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snowangie · 4 months

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the right side of rock bottom.

a rafe cameron x fem!oc series

summary : nailea boo seeks refuge from the chaos of constant family travels in the tranquil outer banks, only to find herself entangled with rafe cameron. a charismatic yet troubled figure, rafe is captivated by nailea’s mysterious allure. rafe, relentless in his pursuit and explicit in his desires, becomes fixated on making nailea his own, while nailea navigates the intricate dance of desire and restraint. in this tale of love and resilience, set against the backdrop of the outer banks, the pogues and looks, unaware of the brewing storm, find their worlds colliding. the tale weaves through the unpredictable currents of outer banks life, exploring the intertwined destinies of nailea, rafe, and the residents of this coastal haven.

series warnings: swearing, smut, violence, death, mentions of torture, mentions of sexual harassment, weapons, trauma, mental illnesses

genre: angst, romance, enemies to lovers, slow burn, drama, violence, hurt/comfort, smut

auth. note: this series will be quite lengthy, following the actual outer banks storyline from the first season to the third. im so down bad for rafe cameron and i know u guys are too. im gonna keep his psycho ass as it is in this series because its hot asf it probably concerning to think that but idc fr. please don’t forget to interact with me in the replies or pm me and if u have any ideas for this series, any specific scene you would like to see in the coming chapters, don’t hesitate to share. hihi i love u guys and i hope u enjoy. muahhh

chapter one: baby pink convertible

The golden sunlight bathed the Outer Banks beach, casting a warm glow as Nailea Boo emerged from the crystal-clear waves, her raven-black hair clinging to her like a silken veil. Clad in a striking bikini that accentuated her curves, she epitomized the allure of an enigmatic coastal goddess. Not too far away, the Pogues—John B, JJ, Pope, and Kiara—observed her from afar, a silent conversation of curiosity passing between them.

Unbeknownst to the onlookers, Nailea wrestled with an undercurrent of anxiety that accompanied her every step. The crystal-clear waves mirrored the conflicting currents within her. She had perfected the art of the cold demeanor, a shield crafted from years of navigating a world that demanded toughness. Yet, beneath the poised exterior, anxiety churned like the unpredictable tide.

As she emerged from the waves, clad in a striking bikini that accentuated her curves, Nailea felt the weight of scrutinizing gazes. The Pogues, distant observers of her beachside ritual, couldn’t fathom the delicate balance she maintained. Each step was a careful dance between projecting strength and concealing vulnerability.

Meanwhile, on the same beach, the Kooks strolled along the shore. Rafe, Sarah, and Topper, the latter holding Sarah's hand, spotted Nailea. Rafe, ever the provocateur, couldn't resist making his presence known. “Damn, would you look at that,” he remarked, loud enough for Nailea to hear.

The Kooks exchanged glances as Nailea, unperturbed, rolled her eyes at the crude comment. Ignoring the unwelcome attention, she gracefully slipped into her clothes with an air of nonchalance, the fabric became a second skin, shielding her not only from the prying eyes but also from the relentless whispers of doubt that echoed in her mind.

Rafe, however, continued with his brazen demeanor. “Hey, sweetheart, you're gonna make this beach a whole lot prettier. What's your name?” he called out, breaking through the rhythmic sound of the waves

Nailea shot him a withering glance but remained composed. “Not interested,” she replied, her voice carrying a mixture of disinterest and disdain. Brushing off the sand from her clothes, she walked past the Kooks, not sparing them a second glance. Yet, within the fortress of her mind, a voice echoed louder—a whisper that questioned her every move, analyzing whether she had played her part convincingly enough.

As she walked past the Kooks, her mind echoed with the internal dialogue of anxiety. Her car awaited her, a symbol of sophistication and control. To the surprise of both the Pogues and the Kooks, Nailea sauntered toward a sleek baby pink convertible, the epitome of her sophistication. With an effortless poise, she slid into the driver's seat, the engine purring to life. Little did anyone know that behind the wheel, Nailea gripped it tightly, her knuckles betraying the tension within. The car roared, leaving a cloud of dust in its wake as Nailea skillfully navigated her way off the beach.

The Pogues exchanged intrigued glances, while the Kooks were left in the sand, a mix of bewilderment and newfound curiosity etched on their faces. Nailea Boo had made a memorable entrance, leaving an indelible mark on the shores of the Outer Banks.

As Nailea smoothly glided away in her baby pink convertible, the lingering echoes of Rafe's comment hung in the salty air. The Pogues huddled together, their eyes still fixed on the vanishing speck on the horizon. John B, the de facto leader, broke the silence with a raised eyebrow.

“Who the hell is that?” JJ asked, squinting against the sunlight.

Pope, ever the thoughtful one, chimed in, “New around here, for sure. But why does it feel like we just stepped into a whole different league?”

Kiara, her eyebrows knit in curiosity, observed, “Could just be a touron but I could’ve sworn I’ve seen her car a few days ago with the moving trucks.”

John B nodded in agreement, his gaze lingering on the spot where Nailea's convertible had disappeared. “We need to find out who she is.”

Meanwhile, not too far away, the Kooks were left in the wake of Nailea's departure. Rafe's confident smirk remained, but Sarah shot him a disapproving look.

“Really, Rafe? That was so tacky,” Sarah remarked, her eyes narrowing.

Rafe merely shrugged, unapologetic. “Just being honest. She's a total fucking knockout.”

Topper, Sarah's boyfriend, chimed in, “She's definitely got some kind of presence. Did you see the way she handled that? Ignored us like it was nothing.”

Sarah, despite her initial irritation, couldn't help but be intrigued. “Weirdly bold. I wonder what her deal is.”

Back with the Pogues, the discussion continued as they dissected the mysterious newcomer.

“I mean, did you see her car? Who drives a pink fucking convertible around here?” JJ mused, scratching his head.

Pope, ever the voice of reason, offered, “Maybe she's just passing through. But something tells me she's here to stay, at least for a while.”

As the conversations unfolded, Nailea's departure had left an indelible mark on the dynamics of the Outer Banks. Both the Pogues and the Kooks found themselves captivated by the enigmatic stranger who had effortlessly commanded attention and defied expectations.

Nailea, reclining in the plush leather seat of her baby pink convertible, couldn't shake the lingering taste of annoyance that clung to her after the encounter on the beach. The waves of anxiety retreated, only to linger beneath the surface, ready to rise again with each new encounter. Her eyes, framed by long, dark lashes, reflected a mix of indifference and disdain. The Pogues and Kooks, to her discerning gaze, seemed like mere pawns on the chessboard of her life in the Outer Banks.

The "baby pink convertible" symbolizes her, embodying sophistication, elegance, and a hint of rebelliousness. Just like the convertible stands out in the coastal landscape, Nailea is an mysterious foreign figure, distinct from the usual dynamics of the Outer Banks. The choice of a convertible reflects her ability to navigate smoothly through the intricate social landscape, while the color pink adds a touch of femininity and complexity that mirrors her naturally.

As the waves receded behind her and the beach dwindled in the rearview mirror, Nailea couldn't help but roll her eyes at the audacity of the boy who had tried to stake a claim on her attention. “Boys,” she muttered under her breath, the word carrying a blend of dismissal and amusement. To Nailea, they were like moths drawn to the flame, oblivious to the fact that they had no chance of catching it.

Arriving at her now-permanent residence, a grand beach house that exuded sophistication, Nailea exhaled a sigh of relief. The crisp sea breeze ruffled her midnight-blue hair as she strolled into the house, her annoyance dissipating with each step. The modern luxury of the interior contrasted sharply with the rawness of the Outer Banks, a juxtaposition that mirrored Nailea's own complexity.

At dinner, Nailea recounted the beach encounter to her sister, Jennie, and her brother-in-law, Tommy. They sat around a polished mahogany table, clinking wine glasses in a semblance of celebration.

“You won't believe what happened, Jennie,” Nailea began, her voice carrying a blend of exasperation and amusement.

Jennie, her older sister, chuckled knowingly. “Do tell, Nai. Did you bewitch the local boys already?”

Tommy, a man with an easy smile and a genuine affection for Nailea, joined in. “Let me guess, they fell head over heels for you?”

Nailea smirked, recounting the scene with theatrical flair. “This one guy, a big asshole, had the audacity to announce to the world that I made the beach a whole lot prettier. Please.”

Jennie laughed, raising her glass. “Well, you do have a way of leaving an impression.”

Tommy chimed in, “The Pogues and Kooks are in for a ride if they think they can compete with you, Nailea.”

Nailea, sipping her wine, smirked in agreement. “They have no idea what they're dealing with.”

The trio shared a moment of laughter, a shared understanding that the coastal drama unfolding outside their beach house was just the beginning of Nailea's reign in the Outer Banks. Little did the Pogues and Kooks know, they were playing a part in a narrative where Nailea Boo held all the cards, and the stakes were higher than they could imagine.

Under the golden hues of the Outer Banks sunset, Nailea strolled through the neighborhood at Figure Eight, an air of elegance accompanying her every step. Her sleek white cat, Winter, in a pet stroller—a stark contrast to the coastal simplicity. The feline, adorned with a silver collar, gazed out with curious green eyes as Nailea moved with the grace of a city girl navigating unfamiliar terrain.

As Nailea approached a familiar stretch of houses, she found herself just around the block from the Camerons. It was here that her path intersected with Sarah Cameron, who was out for an evening stroll of her own.

Sarah, a vision of Kook elegance, her eyes lit up at the sight of Winter in the pet stroller. “Oh, wow, your cat is adorable!” she exclaimed, a genuine smile breaking through her initial surprise.

Nailea, her eyes momentarily softening as she looked at her beloved cat, replied with a reserved acknowledgment. “Thank you. Her name's Winter.”

Sarah, finding common ground, continued the conversation. “I'm Sarah, by the way. Sarah Cameron.”

“Nailea Boo. You can call me Nai, if you want to,” she replied with a nod, her gaze cool and calculating.

Unexpectedly, the conversation flowed. The soft side of Nailea emerged as she spoke fondly of Winter, her icy exterior momentarily melting. Sarah, intrigued by Nailea's New York origins, shared tales of the privileged Kook lifestyle and the exclusive private school they attended.

As they continued their walk, Sarah extended an invitation, her eyes assessing Nailea's reaction. “There's a beach party tonight. You should come. It'll be fun.”

Nailea, maintaining her guarded demeanor, contemplated the offer. “I'll think about it,” she replied, a hint of mystery in her tone.

Sarah, seemingly unfazed by Nailea's reserved nature, smiled. “Cool. It's at the beach, obviously. Just in case you decide to show up.”

As they parted ways, Sarah couldn't shake the feeling of being both intrigued and threatened by Nailea. The New Yorker's elegance and poise posed a potential challenge to Sarah's status as the Kook princess. Still, an unspoken understanding lingered between them, a connection forged in the simplicity of a beachside conversation and the shared appreciation for a feline companion named Winter.

Sarah, choosing not to divulge their encounter to her Kook friends, felt a mix of curiosity and caution. Little did she know that Nailea's presence would continue to disrupt the carefully crafted dynamics of the Outer Banks, setting the stage for a night filled with unexpected twists at the beach party.

Nailea's arrival at the beach party sent ripples through the crowd, capturing the attention of both the Pogues and the Kooks. The pulsating beat of the music seemed to synchronize with the anticipation in the air. Nailea, clad in a skin-tight black maxi dress that accentuated her curves, moved with an otherworldly grace, her pale skin glowing in the ambient light. Her hair, in a high ponytail, cascaded down like a midnight waterfall, and her face, adorned only with a glittering lipgloss, radiated a quiet confidence.

As she ventured into the heart of the party, the chatter around her died down, replaced by hushed whispers and intrigued glances. The typical Outer Banks attire took a backseat as Nailea's unique style commanded attention. The Pogues, in their casual beachwear, exchanged wide-eyed glances, while the Kooks, draped in preppy elegance, observed her with a mix of fascination and uncertainty.

Nailea, aware of the attention she garnered, remained impervious to the external reactions. Instead, she sought solace in the rhythmic pulse of the music and the cool breeze that carried the scent of the ocean. Each step she took was deliberate, a dance of control amidst the chaos.

Sarah, standing amidst the Kooks, spotted Nailea amidst the shifting crowd. With a warm smile, she called out, “Nai!” Nailea turned, her expression momentarily softening as she acknowledged Sarah's call.

The Kooks exchanged surprised glances as Sarah approached Nailea, a subtle curiosity painting their expressions. Sarah, with an air of familiarity, introduced Nailea to the group. “Guys, this is Nailea. Nai, meet the Kooks.”

Rafe, ever the provocateur, decided to make his move. With confident strides, he approached Nailea, a crooked smile playing on his lips. The crowd parted as he reached her, his eyes locking onto hers with a boldness that rarely faced resistance.

He felt a twinge of jealousy at the seemingly instant connection between Sarah and Nailea, decided to step forward. “The mystery girl’s got a name,” Rafe drawled, his tone a blend of arrogance and charm. An attempt to join the conversation. “Hey there, Nailea. I'm Rafe Cameron, Sarah's charming brother.”

As he approached, Nailea's eyes, like two pools of mystery, met his with an unwavering gaze. The crowd hushed, sensing the collision of two forces—Rafe's brazen charisma and Nailea's enigmatic allure.

Nailea, her eyes narrowing ever so slightly, regarded him with a cool gaze. “I'm well aware.”

Rafe, smirked, undeterred by Nailea's disinterest, continued, “You can call me Rafe, but I’d love it if you’d scream it out for me instead,”

Nailea rolled her eyes at that as she replied, “Rafe, huh? Noted.”

Rafe, interpreting her response as a challenge, decided to add a personal touch. “Actually, how about I call you Nai? You know, like my sister does.”

Nailea's annoyance flickered briefly again across her face. “Nai is reserved for those I permit to use it.”

Rafe, seemingly oblivious to Nailea's subtle defiance, continued his attempts at charm. “Fair enough, Nai. You’re not like the usual crowd around here. So, what brings you to our little slice of paradise?”

Nailea, her patience wearing thin, replied, “Just taking a break from the chaos of the world. Thought the Outer Banks might offer some serenity.”

Rafe, accustomed to effortless conquests, found himself intrigued by the challenge Nailea presented. He reveled in the attention, leaning in slightly. “Serenity, huh? I can assure you, things tend to get a bit wilder when I’m around.”

Nailea’s gaze remained unwavering. “I suppose we’ll see.”

The Kooks, including Topper and the others, observed the interaction with a mix of amusement and curiosity. Sarah, caught between amusement and the realization of the brewing tension, exchanged glances with the Kooks.

Meanwhile, the Pogues, stationed at a distance, watched the unfolding scene with raised eyebrows and exchanged glances. John B, the de facto leader of the Pogues, muttered, “Looks like the Outer Banks is in for a storm.”

As Rafe persisted in his attempts to engage Nailea, the atmosphere became charged with a subtle competition. Nailea, the shining new diamond in the Outer Banks, found herself at the center of attention, a target for Rafe's bold advances and the curiosity of onlooking groups.

As the night wore on at the beach party, the atmosphere became charged with the ebb and flow of conversations, laughter, and the distant crash of waves. Rafe, emboldened by the attention Nailea garnered, decided to take his flirtatious banter to the next level.

Leaning in with a cocky grin, Rafe remarked, "You know, Nai, I can imagine you being quite...pleasing in certain situations." His tone carried a not-so-subtle hint of innuendo, his words intended to provoke a reaction.

Nailea, however, remained unfazed, her expression as cool as the ocean breeze. She met his gaze with a steady, almost indifferent look, and without missing a beat, replied, "Your imagination seems to have quite the vivid spectrum, Rafe."

The Kooks, who overheard the exchange, exchanged glances. Sarah, noticing the tension, shot a disapproving look at her brother, silently signaling him to tone it down.

Undeterred, Rafe persisted with a smug grin. "Come on, Nai, don't tell me you're not the least bit curious."

Nailea, her patience wearing thin once again, simply raised an eyebrow. "Nope."

The Pogues and Kooks observed the dynamic between Rafe and Nailea, sensing a clash of personalities that transcended the usual beach party banter. Nailea, with her poised demeanor, became a fortress against Rafe's advances, navigating the social currents of the Outer Banks with a deliberate grace.

As the night progressed, Rafe's attempts at flirting with Nailea became increasingly audacious. Undeterred by her composed demeanor, he continued to pepper their conversation with suggestive remarks, seemingly determined to break through her unyielding facade.

Rafe, with a smirk that hinted at mischief, leaned in once again. "You know, Nai, there's a lot more to this town than just the scenic views. I could show you some hidden gems." His words carried an obvious undertone, implying a desire for something beyond the ordinary.

Nailea, with an arched eyebrow, responded with a measured tone, "Hidden gems, Rafe? I'm afraid I've already explored more intriguing places than you can offer."

Undeterred by her cool rebuttal, Rafe persisted. "You might be surprised, Nai. The Outer Banks can be quite... a ride.” His eyes bore into hers, a hint of mischief playing in their depths.

As Rafe continued his audacious flirtations, Nailea couldn't deny the magnetic allure he exuded. Inwardly, she admitted to herself that Rafe was undeniably hot, possessing a raw and rugged appeal that resonated with a primal attraction. His features, his confident demeanor—it was impossible to ignore the undeniable charisma that radiated from him.

However, a conflict raged within Nailea. While acknowledging Rafe's physical attractiveness, his typical boyish behavior and brazen attempts to charm her clashed with her desire for genuine connection and respect. She found herself caught in the crossfire of conflicting emotions—the pull of physical attraction and the push against his persistent advances.

As Rafe spoke about wanting to give her the time of her life in bed, Nailea's internal conflict intensified. She maintained her stoic exterior, a façade concealing the tumultuous thoughts beneath. The provocative proposition echoed in her mind, stirring a whirlwind of conflicting feelings.

On one hand, the allure of Rafe's physicality was undeniable, an instinctive response that threatened to override her calculated composure. Yet, on the other hand, his explicit comments and relentless pursuit grated against her desire for genuine connection, leaving her grappling with a sense of inner turmoil.

Nailea, determined to assert control over the narrative of her interactions in the Outer Banks, silently navigated the storm of conflicting emotions. She maintained her poised exterior while internally grappling with the complexity of desire and the need for mutual understanding.

Nailea, maintaining her poise, shot back with a retort that cut through the suggestive tension. “Surprises, Rafe, are subjective. What might thrill some could be mundane for others.”

The Kooks, including Sarah and Topper, observed the exchange with a mix of amusement and concern. Sarah shot Rafe a disapproving look, silently urging him to rein in his audacious remarks. Meanwhile, the Pogues, stationed at a distance, exchanged intrigued glances, recognizing the unfolding drama between the Outer Banks' biggest womanizer and its newest enigma.

Rafe, undeterred by the silent warnings around him, decided to up the ante. “Nai,” he whispered, his tone laden with suggestion, “I bet I could make your night more memorable than any other you've had here.”

Nailea's eyes flickered with a momentary annoyance, but she remained composed. “Your idea of memorable might not align with mine. I prefer to curate my own experiences.”

Rafe, emboldened by the atmosphere of the beach party, leaned in even closer, his words now a provocative whisper. “Nai, you're playing hard to get. I like a challenge. Let's make tonight unforgettable.”

Nailea's gaze remained steady, but a subtle tightening of her jaw hinted at the building irritation. “No thanks.”

Undeterred, Rafe pressed on with his relentless pursuit. ��Come on, Nai, live a little. I promise you won't regret it.” His words lingered in the air, charged with a daring invitation.

As Rafe continued his suggestive banter, Nailea couldn't escape the subtle physical reactions her body betrayed. A warmth that crept up her skin, a quickening pulse—signs of an involuntary response to the allure of his words and his magnetic presence.

Internally, Nailea scolded herself for the physiological responses that seemed to betray her composed exterior. She chided the involuntary flush in her cheeks and the faint flutter in her stomach, reminding herself of the boundaries she had set and the desire for genuine connection over mere physical attraction.

While maintaining her outward poise, Nailea's internal monologue chastised the subtle betrayals her body exhibited. ‘Control,’ she reminded herself sternly. ‘Don't let his words and charm blur the lines you've drawn.’

The conflict within her intensified—the tug of attraction warring against her insistence on respect and understanding. Nailea found herself in a silent battle, both with Rafe's suggestive advances and her own body's response, as she navigated the intricate dance of desire and restraint in the vibrant chaos of the beach party.

Amidst the pulsating beats of the music and the lively chatter around them, Nailea confronted the internal conflict head-on. The tug-of-war between physical attraction and the need for emotional connection echoed in her mind, a private struggle unfolding beneath the surface of her composed demeanor.

As the night unfolded, Nailea's internal dialogue became a steady mantra, a reminder to maintain control and not succumb to the allure of the moment. The beach party continued, the unresolved tension creating an invisible thread that connected her to Rafe in a complex dance—one where desire and restraint battled for supremacy in the enigmatic landscape of the Outer Banks.

As Rafe persisted with his explicit innuendos, the crowd around them seemed to ebb and flow, the rhythmic beats of the music providing an unpredictable backdrop to their verbal exchange. The Kooks and Pogues, now more openly watching the drama unfold, exchanged speculative glances.

Sarah, growing increasingly uncomfortable with her brother's relentless advances, intervened. “Rafe, maybe it's time to ease up a bit.”

Rafe, however, was not one to back down easily. With a cheeky grin, he retorted, “Just trying to show Nai a good time, sis. She seems like she could use it.”

Nailea, seemingly unmoved by Rafe's persistence, decided to have the final word. “Rafe, a good time is also subjective. Your version and mine might not align. I suggest you redirect your efforts elsewhere.”

The tension between them lingered, creating a palpable energy in the air. Rafe, seemingly oblivious to the line he was treading, continued his flirtatious banter, intent on unraveling the mystery that was Nailea Boo. As the beach party unfolded, the enigmatic dance between the Outer Banks' most renowned womanizer and its new diamond continued, leaving those who witnessed it with a sense of anticipation about the uncharted territories that lay ahead.

The beach party continued, the music creating a lively backdrop to the unfolding drama. The Pogues and Kooks, each with their distinct reactions, witnessed the power play unfold—a clash of personalities that hinted at the intricate dynamics to come in the coastal haven. Nailea's stoic response to Rafe's flirtations only added to her mystique, leaving those who witnessed the exchange with a sense of anticipation about what lay beneath the surface of the mysterious newcomer in the Outer Banks.

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williammorgan45 · 1 month

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You know what time it? It's Realizin' time!

Here it is! The result of the brain rot of @realizinau art and Alan Wake (I took inspiration by drawing this.The games are so cool) so here we are. It's a bit wonky but I think it's decent. Please ignore the little blue spooch on the suit. I made a boo─boo while painting :/

I'm still thinking about on how to name this guy but I have a little of his backstory on how his role would be in the Realizin' AU.

First he's a wolf if you're wondering.

Alright, now into his story: ------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Before being put into the Bigger Bodies Initiative, he was just a child like any other with a mother and father who loved him and loved them back. But after a tragedy to both parents in a car accident, leaving him as the sole survivor of the crash, he was alone in this narrow dark place.

He was put in normal orphange just with many others parentless but he was different to other kids. Just as the kids where loud, energetic full innocence and some didn't apply to the rules he was the opposite. He was quiet, didn't move alot from his bed, his innocence gone for the result of the crash and allways following orders from the caretakers of the orphange.

Since he didn't talk to the other kids besides to the caretakers to see of he was okay and only respond with a nod, a shake or a short phrase, they began calling him names like 'the silent kid', 'downer', 'the staff's pet' and other names behind his back.

He already got used to this new 'life style' on the orphanage. Wake up, breakfast, gaze outside the window of his room, nap, lunch, more gazing outside again, dinner, sleep, repeat.

He told himself that's going to be his life until he was adopted to a new familly.

...That was the plan before him and others kids where called on the hall as their caretaker was explaning that they were getting 'relocated' to a better orphanage. He didn't understand why tho but if they where getthing relocaded to a better orphanage was probably for the best.

...Right?

Him along with other orphans entered the bus that was meant to transport them to the new orphange. The name on the side of the bus caught his attention before entering. Playtime Co. He knew that name. Tha was the name of the company who sell those toys that appered on TV. His guess was that maybe they are expanding or something.

After that, everything where blur and pieces. How he arrived to Home Sweet Home, meeting the staff, Huggy Wuggy, Kissy Missy, Mommy and Daddy Longlegs along with other toys,doing some sort of test of memory and running, being told that he got adopted, on how he was guided to a room with a bed as they put him on the bed before putting anesthesia and how he became...like he is now.

He felt...weird to say the least but he quickly got used being taller and getting used to his new body. A few bumps here and there but he got used to it. Faster than the others. The Doctor thinks to himself.

And before he know it, he got a brand new suit (he allways wanted to wear one when he was older.It made him feel...important.) and got a new... 'job' as the new guard of Playcare and Home Sweet Home. At day he would help some of the staff carry important papers so he was given a mesanger bag to carry those paper more easier and organize smaller toys for the kids and making sure the wasn't something a miss or any complications among the staff and the children. And by the night, he would roam Playcare and Home Sweet home hall's with his trusty flashlight to make sure there wasn't any stray kid or someone suspicious was around.

He took extra careful in the night because he read in a book once that the dark can by tricky and dangerous. But what caught his attention more was one sentance in particular.

"Trust no one in the dark."

After that, he took his night patrols very seriously, with careful steps and eyes all open for anything. Something tells him there something off but rapidly dissmiss the thought.

Sometimes when doing the day shift, some of the kids would run to him and would either drag him to play with them, show him drawings of him or hug him out of nowhere. He would stay still with no idea what to do or react. Thankfully, some of the staff or caretakers would save him from that embarassment and he would fix tie and continue with his duties for today.

Just like before he is still silent with a neutral looks almost all the time. Responding with a nod, shake or short answer to long questions. He would been doing this for 5 years. Making him 15 years old if his math is correct.

None of the staff, the caretakers or even the children have see him smile. Not even once. Always on focus on the task. Some even says he's more of a robot than someone alive.

It would take a miracle to even make him smile.

...Maybe that miracle could be in the form of 8 new Critters know as The Smilling Critters.

Only time will tell...

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

And that's that! (Jesus, that was long.) Anyway, if you read till the end, thanks! 'preaciated! Hoped i could have entertaied you a little. Again, thank to @realizinau for inpriring me to make this little thing and maybe i will do more. But for the mean time...What's the time? Playtime...

#realizin' au #smiling critters oc #oc #oc art #poppy playtime fanart #realizinau

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starsurface · 3 months

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Caregiver Baraka MK1 Hcs??

Oh my gosh Baraka!! I love him!!! :] (I did alter his cannon slightly for these, just a warning!!)

TW: Mention of family death, sharp teeth (?), Tarkat disease

<3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

CG Baraka Hcs

🦴 I'm going to ignore some of the cannon in these, like the fact Tarkatan can get spread by touch (I'm pretty sure that's how cannon works??)

🦴 If we ignore cannon, this man is an absolute cuddle bug!!!

🦴 Absolutely adores any type of physical touch

🦴 If we don't ignore cannon, he'll get you as many stuffies, blankies, anything he can to make up for it

🦴 ^ He'll (maybe) at the very most hold your pinky, but one of his deepest fears is accidently giving you Tarkat and he will not put you through that

🦴 I feel like he'd do best with baby regressors

🦴 There's just something so wholesome and peaceful rocking his little one in his arms, smiling as they sleep peacefully or coe at him

🦴 But that doesn't mean he doesn't like other regression ages, he adores all of them!!

🦴 Running around with a toddler, watching a bigger kid do arts and crafts, a puppy that he can scratch behind the ears

🦴 If you ever made him a bracelet, he might actually sob out of joy

🦴 He's been alone for a long time, so he might be a bit (a LOT) overprotective

🦴 He also lost his entire family to Tarkat, so your very important to him

🦴 If you fell and got a small scrape, it's like the world ended to him

🦴 Only really trusts Syzoth to watch after you

🦴 In the New Era, Tarkatan are still being accepted into public spaces, so you'll spend most times in the colony, mostly in his little living area

🦴 Will always make sure to mind his little spikes on his body

🦴 Will wearingly let you touch them, but only if your a bit bigger

🦴 Does not like punishing you, please don't lash out 🥺

🦴 This man cares so much for you, he doesn't like seeing you cry or be naughty

🦴 If you are naughty though, he'll probably send you to the naughty corner (and most likely serve your sentence with you)

🦴 Doesn't yell but honestly, because of Tarkatan his voice might sound a little scary at times

🦴 But surprisingly, really good at lullabies

🦴 His voice is a little raspy, but there's something about it that can probably make you feel really sleepy

🦴 Favorite CG nicknames are Papa & ‘Raka

🦴 Favorite nicknames for you would be Little One, Young One, Sweetheart, Bub

🦴 Would love to kiss your forehead or boo-boos, but unfortunately his sharp teeth don't really let him :(

🦴 Forehead touches are a big must, however, he can do those

🦴 Favorite activity to do with you if either peek-a-boo, or some sort of fun arts and crafts

🦴 He doesn't do the crafts himself, unless you ask, just kinda watches and praises you

🦴 If you ever drew this man, he would keep the picture either on him at all times, or hang it up proudly on his wall

🦴 Does have days where he feels really down and that he can't be a good Papa for you

🦴 ^ He'll try not to show it, but those days can really get to him :(

🦴 All you gotta do on your part is make him a pretty picture and tell him that he's the best Papa in the world!! How dare he ever doubt himself? >:(

🦴 If we ignore cannon, go crash into him with a hug too, it'd really help

🦴 But he really appreciates his little one's big heart

🦴 Will try to get his little anything they want, but the colony isn't always going the best, unless if we compare it to past timelines but that's unfair

🦴 If his little does want something like a new toy or a better sippy cup, you know he's going to try his best

🦴 Might even ask Kitana or Mileena for help to get it (no one messes with them)

🦴 On the topic of the sisters, they absolutely love 'babysit’ you!! (Which is more of a playdate while Baraka supervises)

🦴 (^ It's not that Baraka doesn't trust them or anything. . . . But what if something happens to you when he's not there?!)

🦴 Will make sure to get you the proper diet you need, most Tarkatans only live off meat

🦴 If he can try to sneak you some candy, he most definitely will

🦴 Anything that makes his baby happy, makes him happy <3

<3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

#age regression #agere #sfw age regression #age regression headcanons #mortal kombat agere #sfw agere #mk agere #age regressor #mk1 #mk1 headcanons #mortal kombat 1 headcanons #mortal kombat #mk baraka #baraka #cg baraka #caregiver baraka #baraka x reader

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doukeshi-kun · 1 month

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Imagine if alt! Gabriel's hypothetical non-existent lover sees Gabriel munching and art n' crafting someone's body, now mutilated. However, instead of becoming fearful and frightened, the reader just says, "Wow, I am blown away by your artist-esque situation!" And skidaddles. That'll be funny, ngl.

Or, alt! Gabriel's hypothetical non-existent lover, [redacted] is an Adam Murray's case, but Alt! Gabriel just kept its mouth shut. So, when the said hypothetical alt! Gabriel's non-existent lover turns into an alternate-esque look alike, crying and shouting at Gabriel to run off, Alt! Gabriel just goes, "It's okay! Peek-a-boo! I'm an alternate just like you!" LMFAOOOOBAJWJSDHD HAHAHAH COOKED. BUDDY IS BURNT. A GONE CASE

Or, Alt! Gabriel's hypothetical non-existent lover dies because the said lover is clumsy. Just "Whoopies daisies!" and got killed by their supposed not-an-alternate friend, an alternate that lives under a rock [sweage system]. That'll be so cute, angst 7/10

Or, the said lover is a shepherd. Who's fooling who? Or, the said shepherd-lover was Alt! Gabriel's hypothetical non-existent lover got reincarnated cause our sweet angel lived a long life. He would've seen one or two repeats. Angst/no comfort or angst/comfort.

I will fool the shepherds ପ(๑>ᴗ<๑)ଓ ☆

Sorry for rambling. Please ignore my grammar mistakes and my odd sentencing. If there are any ｡･(つд`｡)･｡

HYPOTHETICAL NON-EXISTENT LOVER?! I AM THE LOVER 😣

i actually like the thoughts of being shilly with alt!gabe ☹️ like yeeeeh MUNCH THAT BODY UP KING—I MEAN MY LORD 💀 would alt!gabe be supportive to our alternate looks? :( idk he's kinda mean and shit i feel like he's gonna call us ugly and we can't really argue back because bitch is THE lucifer, a literal fallen angel. i would like to have shepherd!reader hoho give us some enemies to lovers kind of shit.

shepherd!reader sounds nice. or something equivalent to it. angel!reader or something... i would like to yearn for him while feeding his ego as the Great Deceiver.

#i feel like... fluff or comfort won't really happen in case of alt!gabe... or maybe i just like being manipulated to hell💀#道化師-says❃ུ۪

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phantomram-b00 · 7 months

Text

So I realize I never did an introduction before, untillll now as spooky season is here so why not make-

Boo!

Gotcha >:) but as I was saying, I thought why not make one now, (and maybe one day I might make those meet the artist, let see)

Soooo, spooky to meet you, I’m Phantomram…BOO

Sorry had to again. But you can call me Phantom or Ram; whichever you prefer or all together, hey, the world is your oysters. Or ostrich. Just a shy yet very talkative ghost that love to talk about good omens. If you ever wanted to talk, you can just please be mindful, I am shy and not the best with conversations but I’m happy to talk. And uh, if you ever want to ask me question whether to get to know be better or ask anything about good omens, Ahh you can ask in the ask my anything box ^^ but I will reveal info here starting now!

About me:

-Age: 21 (or as my family member say, I’m old.)

-Zodiac: I’m an April Aries!

-MBTI: INFP

-🇵🇷

-height: 5’3 (I’mma fun-sized ghost)

- just to add as I wasn’t comfortable at the time but now I am, I’m autistic ^v^

My scary interest:

-GOOD OMENS! (I love this show and also the book as I’m slowly reading it. I’ve watch this back in 2019/2020? And I love it and waited when the second season came and it did and now I’m loving this show and now going to wait patiently for season 3. But for now, this is my main hyperfixation, and I can’t get enough of it. I love it. But I promise I do have other interest to so let continue 😅)

- Art/drawing/(sometimes) writing

- magic/fantasy

- music (my music taste is haha complicate.)

- books (I love them, I wish my attention span a bit better but I do love a good read.)

- horror movies

- dnd

- oversized jackets! (Specifically the one with the zippers) or trench coats.

- mythology.

- Halloween

-Broadway/Movies/Shows

Shows/movies/books/games I love:

- Good omens (love love love!)

- Little shops of horrors

- Soul eater

- Coraline (I do wanna read the book tho)

- Star Wars (I seriously still need to catch up to watch Ahsoka aahhhh! 😭)

- Transformers

- Sally Face

- Percy Jackson (haven’t finished reading but I do like it so far and I can’t wait for the show coming up)

-murder drones

- FNAF (yes I’m excited for the movie coming out, I’ve been waiting for this movie since middle school-)

- MK (mortal Kombat)

- owl house/Amphibia/ducktales/Svtfoe

-TMNT (edit: because I forgot to add this Idek how I forgot this)

And more that I can’t think of. I can’t collect them all, I’m not ash Ketchum or any Pokémon trainer. I’m just a ghost on the internet let me have this.

Four random fact about me:

- when it came to doing the MBTI test, my introvert was almost 100%.

- despite being Latine/Latinx I can’t speak Spanish to save my life 😅

- my mom once banned coraline because it was “too scary”

- I learn about zodiac because of animal crossing of all things

“Can I use the ask me anything?”/dm you?: yes! You can ^^ I know some used it (for the ask me anything at least), but if you want to ask me anything go right ahead. I’m happy to answer (almost) anything you like. As for the dm, sure, especially if you’re a mutual I have here, you can ^v^, just all I ask is please be respectful and be mindful. That literally all I ask from you :))

However what I do not allow on this page and imma make this very clear: if you are racist, homophobic, transphobic or just bottom line don’t care about humans rights or any rights at all. Please go and do fucking better and leave me and my fellow ghostly pals alone. Please and thank you very much.

‼️BOUNDRIES: please do not use my ama for donations ask as scammers are using this tactic. If you disrespect this, I will ignore or delete your ask. Please use my AMA for anything else. Any questions. Please don’t cross this boundaries ‼️

And uhh, I guess that’s all. Have a spooky Friday 🤭

#intro post #introductory post #hi 😅#this was probably long overdue but it here now #hi tumblr #phantomram-b00 #might make a meet the artist

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nostradamus0 · 5 months

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PLEASE READ!

I know this is kinda a long post, but this is really important and it would mean everything to me if even one person paused to read it.

On Wednesday (12/06), the president of my college: the State University of New York at Fredonia, announced plans to discontinue 13 of our major programs.

Like approximately 20 SUNY schools, which are public universities in New York, Fredonia has been sinking further into a financial crisis for nearly 20 years due to a lack of funding and decreasing enrollment. The majority of SUNY funding is given to only 4 schools, and the rest of us get almost nothing. And those in charge of allocating what we do get are trying to invest in programs that our school is not known for.

The SUNY system was designed to spread out specializations among different schools to prevent competition in enrollment and protect all types of programs. Fredonia is a liberal art school. We specialize in education, music, and the arts. And we are good at it. Some of the amazing programs we offer exist almost nowhere else in the country, such as our English Adolescence Education major.

If we cannot stop 13 programs from being cut, it will be devastating to our school, the staff and students, and the surrounding community. Professors will lose their jobs. Enrollment will suffer, and we’ve already lost several thousand students in just the last few years because New York has financially abandoned many SUNY schools. Fredonia is one of several schools to announce many devastating and unnecessary program cuts just within the last few months. Types of pograms that are largely ignored nationwide are being cut, and that will show other schools that those types of majors are not worth investing in.

Here at Fredonia, the programs they want to cut include: several education programs, almost the entirety of our language and language education programs, several art programs, sociology, and philosophy. This will harm the cities of Fredonia, Dunkirk, Jamestown, and others that surround us, because we have an incredibly high, and increasing, Hispanic population. Over 60% of the people in the town I call home are living in extreme poverty, and part of this is because many of them do not speak English.

When I work in our schools with elementary and secondary students, I see every day how many of them struggle with English, how many classrooms have translators and/or fully bilingual curriculums. Many teachers speak or are learning Spanish, in part because their students' parents often do not speak any English. We can’t lose our Spanish and Spanish Education programs. We need to be able to talk to our students.

Revealing these cuts a week before winter break was a deliberate attempt to prevent students and staff from working together to fight for our school and the SUNY system. Professors and department heads are saying they have never experienced a more irresponsibly and cruelly handled announcement in their lives. None of them had any warning. They were all blindsided by the news at the president’s speech yesterday, which had cops in attendance. Students were not invited by the school or warned by the school at all, but several were there because professors invited them. The livestream of the speech was taken down after it ended because the audience responded so loudly and angrily that they didn’t want anyone else to see it.

The president and the cabinet are actively keeping information from the entire staff and student population. His speech included no real data, no sources were provided, and he was intentionally as vague and unclear as possible. He refused to answer any questions and instead said people could submit questions on the Fredonia website, which of course means that they can filter whatever questions they don’t want to answer. He told people to “calm down” and was booed off the stage.

If you’re interested, this article from our student newspaper, The Leader, is being regularly updated with information about Fredonia and the SUNY system, and has a link to the speech that someone preserved by downloading it onto Google Drive.

Yesterday, we held a protest march with at least 200 students, staff members, and UUP union members, which we organized in less than 24 hours. Channel 7 news came to interview people and record the march. (The police department sent an entire unit to watch us, but fortunately didn’t interfere.) We held meetings within the English Department to clear up misinformation, console each other, and make plans to fight for our programs.

We’re gathering data on our financial situation and enrollment, contacting alumni and other SUNY schools, and petitioning our Governor to help fairly distribute SUNY funds. She is fully capable of this and improving the SUNY schools was one of her campaign promises. She has instead dug us further into a pit.

This petition was made by one of our professors to ask the Governor Hochul to help us and other SUNY schools. The description has a lot of really great information, data, and statistics if you want to know more. Fredonia is a small school, but it’s a precious school with fantastic and important programs, and we love it.

But this is bigger than Fredonia. This is about protecting the entire public higher education system in New York. If anyone is willing to quickly sign this petition, it would only take a second and it would mean the world to us. Or even just reblog this post. This will affect more people than I can possibly count and we need help.

#p.

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late-to-the-magnus-archives · 18 days

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Blood and sand - Chapter Four

The Butcher waited.

No one moved.

Don’t be prey.

Luke took a deep breath. He was terrified; but he’d spent much of his life terrified. Terrified of school, of bullies, of police. Terrified of what could happen to him someday, unloved as he knew he was.

Don’t be prey.

He would not. Not anymore. Never again. To hell with this. In fact…

Luke took a breath. “Fuck this,” he said, daring the word more boldly than he felt, his traitorous voice cracking, and climbed into the damned cage.

Written for the @malevolentmadnessmixup. Art by @aktrashpanda.

>>>>READ ON AO3 OR BELOW<<<<

----------

Chapter Four: The Tavern-Keep

In the middle of a blasted land, nothing-brown and pocked with strangely red and star-like craters, a structure slouched like an inebriated criminal. Even from the air, it looked abandoned, uneven, leaning and rotten. Close-up wasn't any better, presenting a view of mismatched wood and metal that looked rescued from a faraway shipwreck. Holes gaped, like through ruined teeth. Please don't be the place, thought Luke, but of course, it was.

The Last Lonely Inn did not deserve its name. While it might be technically correct, the name evoked images of countryside, and fantasy books like The Magical Land of Noom.

It was not like that.

Luke had been very careful to not be flashy on this boat. He felt stupid for having not really believed that his knack would put him in danger, and people he helped would talk. Well, he’d learned his lesson. When he slipped off the boat, the sailors startled, because they’d forgotten he was there.

Gods, it was hot.

Luke tried to stay unseen, unnoticed, beneath notice, but there was a problem with that: everybody in here was three times his size and very loud. Less subtle than a foghorn sounded great, and all, but he had no idea how to do that, and now, felt like everyone was staring at him.

Surely they weren’t. Surely they were not.

“Who the fuck let a mouse in here?” some big bass bully bellowed, followed by laughter.

So much for subtle. Luke hunched and hurried to the bar, face burning, where the tavern-keeper stood—an adult in authority, which had to be safer. The big guy there looked like he could throw half the giants out of this place with one meaty hand. He stared down at Luke, leaned in, and said, “Boo!”

Luke jumped.

Low, cruel laughter rippled over him, like from an enormous rock dropped into water. So much for authority.

Well. The mystery devil-man had told him to grow up. So. Luke pushed back his hood, ignored his burning cheeks, and said, “Do you have tea?”

The tavern-keep looked deeply amused. “No. Water or beer. Beer’s cheaper.”

Luke was low on water. He assumed there would be sustenance at the Games, but who knew? “Water.” He put his canteen on the counter. “Please.” And though it was hard, he met and held the man’s many eyes.

The guy studied him, and Luke could see the exact moment something like pity replaced whatever else he had been feeling. “Sure, kid.” He took the canteen and, never taking it out of sight, produced a pitcher and refilled it. “Six bronze standard or equivalent.”

That was some expensive water.

Luke tried not to seem like he had much than that as he rummaged, finally producing four bronze standard and one square cadet, which was common along the Celephaïs coast.

They disappeared under one of the tavern-man’s many hands at once. “Ship won’t leave for another twenty minutes,” he said, low. “Can still get on it. Go back. Tell whoever dared you to do it that you got here, and old Bart saw you.”

Luke almost took the out.

He could go back. He could make a life in Celephaïs. His knack was a good one; he could make a home, grow up happy and healthy. Maybe make a friend… but he didn’t want to do those things without Parker. “Thank you,” he said, tucking his canteen away. “But I have to do this.”

The guy sighed. “Big prize, huh?”

Luke swallowed. “I need it, sir.”

The guy sighed again and let it go.

Others in this place eyed Luke, speculative, smirking. Luke moved to a stool by the wall and huddled there, trying to be uninteresting.

It turned out the key to being uninteresting was surrounding oneself with loudness.

The would-be warriors boasted and toasted, yelled and called, took up more space than he'd known people could, and trapped attention with gluey focus. They were, they proclaimed, here to win. Often, they declared they’d crush their enemies, or be richest in the world, or stronger than anyone. It was sort of fascinating to listen to.

No one wanted anything but for themselves. Nobody seemed to be wishing for healing (or resurrection) or protection for anyone.

Was that… expected? Was he going to seem weird? Did he have to make up something more banal sounding? Should he tell the truth? Maybe they weren’t telling the truth. Adults lied a lot. They were awfully loud for lying, though, if so.

More importantly, though, was getting an idea just what these people brought to the table.

He saw weapons and spells. Fire; something like electricity. A weird guy with snakes in his arms somehow, which reared up to bite whatever he was holding. Beings with fists like hammers, some weird lady with arms like knives, a green man with a flower for a head who spit poison mist, so many and so much and so scary.

He thought again about burning through the ropes to get free—not at all the intention of that spell, but it had worked. And it had hurt. This was going to hurt. A lot.

He trembled a little as they continued to flex, unsure how to prepare himself. He knew how to deflect bullies; he knew how to be uninteresting to hurt, at least according to his limited experience. So. There had to be a way to prepare for the Games, but he’d be damned if he could think of one.

“You’re young to be in this,” said Bart the tavern-keep.

Luke swallowed. “Not that young.”

Bart made a sort of huff noise that completely dismissed what Luke had to say.

Luke sat up straighter. “I’m not going back. Don’t try to talk me out of this.”

“Oh, I won’t,” said the guy, putting that glass down and picking up another to dry. “Just hate seeing young lives cut so short, is all.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” Luke muttered with an outside-voice sarcasm he never would have dared before he learned magic.

The guy eyed him, four of six eyes fixed.

Luke hunched in his seat.

“Don’t do that,” the guy muttered. “Sit up. No shame. No fear. Don’t be prey. Okay?”

Slowly, Luke sat up, then frowned. “Why are you helping me all of a sudden?”

The keep was silent for a long moment. To the side, two guys with somehow very different bovine features seemed to be focused on attempting to snap one another’s horns off with their teeth. “Well,” Bart said. “I got assigned this post because I have a knack, you see.”

Luke perked up. “What knack?”

“I see what people really want.” Down with that glass, up with another.

Luke stared. Swallowed. “And what do you think I want?”

“Good things.” Bart sighed heavily and leaned on the countertop. “Things that ought not come through violence. Are you sure this is your only course, young man?”

Luke stared. “Yes.” He swallowed. “Good things?”

“Family. Love. Security. Good things you can find without dying for them,” said Bart, who put that glass away and turned to take fresh bread from the oven. The smell permeated the one-room tavern, and anyone not actively fighting turned his way.

Terrible timing. Luke knew his eyes were shiny, but he couldn’t help that. “I have to. He’s dead.”

The keep nodded. “Well. When you get there, you’ll… be wise to make connections.” He considered, and began handing out rolls to anyone who came to the counter and threw down a coin.

Connections? “I’m listening.”

“Get training,” said the keep. “You’ll need it to learn your opponents’ weaknesses.”

The two bull-headed gentlemen decided bread was better than breaking, and joined the queue for rolls.

Luke swallowed around the lump in his throat. “I will, sir. Thank you, sir. It’s more than I expected. How can I repay you?”

“Try not to die,” said the keep, and outside the tavern came a new and terrible sound.

A sound like demon-claws on a chalkboard wrenched into the inn and through Luke’s ears, making his eyes water. The heavy, rattling sound of a substantial wagon followed after, rumbling along, creaking and cracking.

“He’s here!” someone cried, and there were cheers all around. Cheers, but Luke had been in the Dreamlands for months now, and knew what he saw: this was the moment, for whatever reason, that the reality of this situation landed for a lot of these combatants. Fear showed in their feathers and faces; fear, almost like shock.

Luke was ready. A little dizzy, sure, a little unsteady on his feet, but it had been a long few days, most of which were in the air, so hey. Nobody cared if he was wobbly because almost all of them were.

Almost.

One of the bull-headed guys was less bullish than the other, and hung back. The other bull-man went strutting right out to greet whoever ‘he’ was.

The Butcher, Luke guessed.

The door creaked open, sending the bars of daylight that leaked through across the floor, and in its bright opening stood a man. A man who sure looked human to Luke. He applied his knack, reaching into his talent, and yes: this man was human. Weird, though. Some strange power flowed through him, a deep and grimy yellow, something foreign to him that provided… Luke wasn’t sure what.

This human looked… ordinary? A white man, leaning into middle-aged; slightly balding, bearded, just bland. Luke had seen thousands of men just like this.

The man looked around the room, smiling, his light gray-blue eyes dancing from fighter to fighter. “I see,” he said. “Well, this is a pretty muck of a mess, isn’t it? All right, you people, best get moving.”

The guy was Irish? Another Earthling?

The man wasn’t even that tall, but the quiet, careful way everyone moved past him was sobering. Those who seemed unsure followed their wiser peers, side-eyeing this Irishman, keeping their hands to themselves.

Luke wanted to slip out after them all and climb hidden onto whatever the wagon was, but no. No. That would be prey behavior. He held his head high and did not pull up his hood.

This Butcher watched him walk by, unreadable, thoughtful. He seemed so… affable? A smile in his eyes, and a good voice—he hummed lightly as Luke walked by, some tune Luke did not know.

Through the door. Out. So far so good—

Well. That was one hell of a wagon.

Four things pulled it, gray and vaguely equine, but their long, arched necks bore rows of strange, ropey shapes that pulsed as if swallowing every second. Their eyes were solid red; their teeth were long. Their claws dug into the ground, muddy up to their slim, horse-like ankles.

And what they pulled was a cage.

A wide, splintery wooden base, topped with curved bars as if they’d stuck some giant’s rib cage all around, it stood there, clawing at the sky, with one way in or out: a narrow opening where one bone had been removed from its bore. No one had climbed in. Everyone was staring at it.

The Butcher (if that’s who this was) moved to stand beside him, still smiling. “You don’t get in, you don’t go to the Games,” he said mildly.

The braver bull-man snorted heavily, somehow steaming the hot air around his bovine face. “Bullshit.”

Luke decided that probably wasn’t meant to be a pun.

The Butcher smiled. “Oh, is it, now?”

“Maybe these fools can ride in your cage,” said the bull-guy. “I am going to ride up front with you, and if you try to fight me, then you will arrive at the Games less useful to your master for lack of limbs.”

A few would-be fighters moved back. Luke was no fool, and moved with them.

What followed happened very fast.

The Butcher raised one hand and made a come to me motion, and the bull-headed guy did.

There was a moment of gore, a moment of crushing, a moment of human limbs pulled free and bright red blood in the air.

He blinked.

It was all reversed. The bull-guy was on the ground, moaning, as he bled from ragged amputation into the hard-packed sand. So quick. Impossibly quick.

(Luke fought the urge to go and help this fool, knowing he'd reveal his knack, sickened with the feeling of that life bleeding out when he dared do nothing to stop it.)

The Butcher rolled his shoulders and cracked his neck as if just getting warmed up. “Into the cage or back into the tavern,” he said.

Fear like a hand of ice clutched Luke’s throat. He hadn’t even seen the guy move. If this was just the transporter, what chance did he have in the Games?

The Butcher waited.

No one moved.

Don’t be prey.

He would not. Not anymore. Never again. To hell with this. In fact…

Luke took a breath. “Fuck this,” he said, daring the word more boldly than he felt, his traitorous voice cracking, and climbed into the damned cage.

The wood was awful. He got a splinter at once, and was more careful thereafter as he moved to the far side.

The whole thing creaked and leaned as the others climbed aboard; it felt like being on a boat in choppy water, unreliable and tilting. Luke frowned and threaded one arm around the curving rib behind him (and his knack kicked in and verified oh yes this is bone though he could not possibly imagine from what). It was almost as though this wagon was designed to toss people around.

The Butcher (if that was his name) threaded a thick, gruesome chain between the ribs, locking them all in. Humming, he hopped into the driver’s seat. “Go!” he said, and the horse-things took off, leaving the foolish attacker on the sand, indecently torn open and very, very dead.

[chapter five] [masterpost]

#malevolent #malevolent au #malevolent fic #arthur lester #john doe #dennis collins #luke yang #kiy malevolent #malevolent madness mixup #blood and sand fic #kayne malevolent #oscar malevolent

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sourstars · 2 years

Text

simplicity | itadori yuuji.

established relationship (married), mentions of food + getou, nobara, megumi and gojo.

not proofread! please tell me if you’ve found any mistakes, thank you!

For being your my-life-is-totally-together roommate, Itadori is notorious for losing track of time.

Two jobs and class—you don’t know how he manages it but he steps into your early bird rhythm seamlessly, passing you your toothbrush while he does his routine.

You’re a little jealous, knowing even in the morning he looks like he’s all put together; pajamas with wrinkles—his plain white tank top and some basketball shorts, a bright yellow headband with bear ears, and yet he still looks like if someone handed him a sword, he’d go to battle.

(Ever the fighting spirit, this one.)

The face mask he smushes across his face is terrifyingly green. So much so that when you walk in, eyes bleary as you attempt to ignore the irritating florescent light of the bathroom, the double take isn’t enough, you’re staring.

“Good morning, wicked witch of the west.” Your side eye remains as your hands are clumsy trying to squeeze the toothpaste out, eventually letting it drop onto the bristles. You listen as he shuffles, squeezing in behind you at the sink, limbs bumping into each other. “Boo, get your own bathroom, you’re too close,”

In the reflection, you catch him rolling his eyes, the corner of his mouth quirking up. “I would have my own bathroom if you moved out,”

You raise a brow. “So you do want me to move out? I knew it, I’m telling Nobara.” Beginning to brush, you pause in between running the bristles over the flat of your tongue briefly before you catch his eye in the mirror. “You’re stuck with me. Besides, who else will wake up and open the door in the middle of the night?”

“Megumi.”

“He’d leave you out there for the hour and throw some snacks out of the front window.”

“Then it would be Nobara.”

Scooping up some of the water with your palms, you rinse your mouth, swiping your hand down the front of your face and cleaning your brush. “She would leave you out there, point blank,”

“And we’re under the assumption that Satorou would…”

“Not even be home, yes.” Dropping your now clean toothbrush into the designated ‘teeth cup’, as he calls it, you place your palms onto the curve of the sink, watching as Itadori moves behind you, letting his arms wrap around you to turn the sink on and wash his hands. “You’re lucky I love you more than them and let you in every single time,”

“Ah, yes,” You can hear the mirth in his voice, “where would I be without you?”

“Probably be in a ditch, biting off people’s fingers like some rabid animal,”

Itadori laughs then, a sound you can only compare to something short of a gong; that loud, echoing type of laughter that makes your knees shake and ears ring, the type that sends vibrations all through your blood.

(His laughter is like the sea; endless, deep, forever.

Itadori Yuuji has always had a knack for becoming something beyond someone’s comprehension, but a thing they love anyway; like music, like dreams, like art.)

“Is that some sick way of telling me not to bite the hand that feeds me because you’re cooking tonight?”

“You know,” You tap a finger to your chin playfully, savoring the moments that pass. “I didn’t even think of that. Actually, order out tonight,”

“Shameful—maybe I’ll order from Getou’s Cooking Curses. His spring rolls are so good I could pass away a happy man,”

“Is that so?”

“Mhm,” He stops, turning the tap to the sink to the right, making the water cold before he stills, keeping like a statue for a few moments before he lunges in for the kill.

He gathers up what water he can, splashing it against the front of your shirt as you yelp, his arms caging you in. He’s got you grappled, his head dipped low so his cheek is next to yours and he brings it in closer, making them touch skin to mask.

“Yuuji, no! You’re getting your overpriced products all over me,” Squirming for a minute in his arms, you flop over. “Maybe if I play dead long enough, you’ll let me live my life in peace,”

“In peace? Never that. Look up,”

When you do, Yuuji is smiling; pearly whites against ogre green and even though he looks ridiculous—even though the entire situation is ridiculous and you are in love with your roommate and he is the bane of your existence, you can’t help but join him.

Itadori knows the art of intimacy, and perhaps he’s learned it over time, but it wraps around him like a second skin when he takes your chin to push your head to the side, using his hand to swipe away the smudge of product, smiling the whole time.

The minutes go in silence as he cleans your cheek, and you leave the bathroom, and you continue on, but there’s this flutter in your heart you fear is not entirely amiss.

You love him, and yeah, maybe it’s just because he is kind, maybe it’s just because he’s gentle where the world is so rough, but regardless, he is here, with you, in your tiny bathroom with his too-rich-to-be-here items and somehow, that’s good enough.

(Itadori Yuuji is like this plague one cannot rid themselves of; an ailing that appears in the blood, travels to the heart and settles in, making root.)

“Ready?” When it’s time to leave, he waits for you in front of the door with his pink hair mussed and travel mugs of beverages in his hands, keys dangling from a finger. His bag hangs from one shoulder, and again, like always, he waits for you to catch up.

“I don’t want to be late,” He teases, “but you know I can’t leave without you.”

You grin, plucking a cup from one of his hands. “I know,” The world is bright outside; warm. “Just catching up. Sorry it took so long.”

“C’mere.” Kisses are peppered across your face; the highs of your cheeks, your eyelids, the corner of your mouth—no space left untouched by his lips. “Take as long as you need, you know I’ll wait for you.”

“I know.” You chuckle. “You’re like this personified clock.”

“Get in the car, I’ll drive you to work.”

“Yuuji, you’re already ten minutes late.”

“What’s a few more? Let me spend some more time with you before I have to spend my whole day missing you,”

“…Fine. But I get to pick the music.”

(Alright, yeah, your roommate is a plague walking. Yeah, he’s too cheery for his own good and yeah, sometimes he’s a pain in your ass, but you still love him.

Because the only thing better than having a roommate is having the contagious roommate be your gentle husband and your best friend.)

(Crossing your fingers Nobara and Megumi don’t find out.)

reblogs are preferred!

#!ilovequeue #this isn’t any of the fics on my wip page but this was sitting in my drafts please and thank you #wrote this before i went to bed LOL #itadori x y/n #itadori x you #itadori x gn!reader #itadori x reader #itadori yuuji #itadori yuuji x you #jjk x y/n #jjk x gender neutral reader #itadori x gender neutral reader #jjk x gn!reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x gender neutral reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you

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aseriesofunfortunatejan · 1 year

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Reminder to please continue defending artists when their art is stolen or in any way disrespected. It's an unfortunate truth that people will continue to respond negatively when they're being called out. It doesn't matter how nicely you ask, for some reason, when it comes to being called out for art theft or the such, people get extremely defensive.

I've been on both sides: and as someone with good ole Anxiety, it gets a little overwhelming to ask someone to credit the original artist nicely, because I know I will literally be boo-ed and yelled at. Yet, I love artists, and I want to continue showing them that someone is standing up for them - I also know for a fact that many artists have deleted their entire accounts and portfolio because of the ridiculous amount of art theft they endured.

But it's being in the position of the artist that has helped me rationalise how much this happens to everybody, not just me because I'm somehow speaking wrong or my username is too ugly. I have seen people rightfully defend me and be met with insults and many downvotes, even though I, the artist, agreed with them, and their supportive comment was a huge relief to me. This was even more ridiculous since the main example of this I can recall was of someone making a rude, honestly ignorant request of me. The person who told them they couldn't ask that was right, and they were punished for defending me and other artists.

It's baffling to me, and yet; this is a situation in which we have to push through despite our arguments being unpopular. I believe this is mostly due to people being very aggressive and defensive online, as a cultural and general thing. Please continue to defend artists, ask for credits, let people know when they're being blatantly disrespectful to an artist, because having to deal with it all alone WILL make artists stop sharing their art, if not stop creating altogether.

If I knew the solution to make people 1. less ignorant about artists 2. take a chill pill when they're faced with disagreement online, I would have put it into action long ago.

#artists on tumblr #etc #qt as in queue tag

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thoughtportal · 10 months

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I should not know who David Zaslav is. I didn’t know who any of the big media CEOs were back when I was a happy little child, and I shouldn’t have to know who any of them are now. I should be able to fire up HBO Max, see that it’s still called HBO Max, treat myself to two horrible, horrible hours of a “Batgirl” movie, and then read a satisfyingly catty review of it in GQ.

Alas, I’m not that lucky. Because Zaslav is the man in charge of frankencorp Warner Bros. Discovery and, in an impressively short period of time, has managed to f—k up nearly everything within its considerable portfolio. Freelance writer Jason Bailey attempted to note all of those f—k-ups for posterity just this week, when he wrote an article for GQ excoriating Zaslav for his pathetic stewardship of WBD. It noted all of Zaslav’s lowlights, which I will repeat here for reasons that will soon become evident.

Zaslav wrote off that “Batgirl” movie rather than formally release it. He did NOT write off and bury “The Flash,” even though its titular star was an allegedly choke-happy asshole and the movie itself was something that even McG wouldn’t have put his name on (it tanked). He hired a clearly in-over-his-head Chris Licht to oversee CNN, only for Licht to destroy morale within that company even faster than Zaslav could have on his own (Licht has since been fired). And it’s not like CNN was my favorite news source in the universe prior to this. You have to really try to make CNN more inane than it already was. Zaslav did.

FILE: Warner Bros. Discovery CEO David Zaslav visits “Mornings With Maria” at Fox Business Network studios on April 10, 2019, in New York City. Roy Rochlin/Getty Images

All of these changes were not only unwelcome but also NOTICEABLE. Same as if Dan Snyder owned your favorite NFL team. That’s why Zaslav got booed by students at Boston University while trying to give a commencement speech. It’s why striking Writers Guild of America writers, myself included, have made him the face of studio bosses who want to reduce TV and film writing jobs to gig work. It’s why Zaslav’s crimes against both art and basic consumer preferences need to be put on the record. It’s why Bailey wrote what he wrote, and why he was right to do so: posterity, so that we all know who’s to blame for this f—kery and why they deserve to be remanded to a space prison.

This was a damning blog post but also still just a blog post. All damning stuff but all easily ignored if you’re a captain of industry. Lord knows such men have capably ignored similar attempts to own them online.

FILE: David Zaslav attends the 2022 Time 100 Gala on June 8, 2022, in New York City.Dimitrios Kambouris/Getty Images for TIME

Knowing this, GQ could have, should have, stood by its reporter, especially given that he was a freelancer just trying to earn a living. Maybe if former Editor-in-Chief Jim Nelson was still in charge of the place, it would have. That GQ was both thorough and undaunted. But Variety just reported that current Editor-in-Chief Will Welch is attached as a producer on an upcoming Warner Brothers film that’s based on a GQ story and that he was one of the editors Zaslav’s stooges complained to. So it’s not hard to connect the dots as to why his GQ would abandon its journalistic principles just to please Zaslav. (Multiple sources within GQ told SFGATE they weren't even aware of the controversy until it became public; Bailey politely declined to talk to me for this piece.)

As someone who adored working at GQ, I cannot begin to tell you how much all of this disappoints me. I worked for Nelson. I also worked for the people who annihilated Deadspin and just published their first post written by a bot instead of an actual person. I know the difference between these two leadership styles, and it is stark. You can see it right in the product, and you can see it everywhere in Zaslav’s leadership. Not only is this man a terrible CEO, but he’s also an imperious coward who’s more than willing to swat down anyone who dares question his authority. Our worst kind of rich person.

Maybe Zaslav was able to get Welch to back down from public criticism, but my bosses here at SFGATE won’t be similarly cowed. So, for the permanent record, let me state all of this again flatly: David Zaslav is an eel who sucks at his job. He’s destroying HBO. He’s destroyed what bare credibility the DC Universe had left with moviegoers. He’s forced GQ to willingly debase itself. He’s destroyed TCM. And while he couldn’t get Licht to destroy CNN, he’ll find some other pair of docksiders to finish the job.

It’s a fact that, in an age of mass consolidation, no one person could possibly run all of a billion-dollar entertainment conglomerate effectively. But David Zaslav has distinguished himself not only by being unable to run ANY part of one but also by being such a brazen coward about that fact. I shouldn’t know who this man is. But here he is, and now he should deal, in full, with what he’s wrought. He’s a parasite: a terrible CEO, an enemy to artists, and a lousy, horrible graduation speaker to boot. I hope he’s strapped to a chair and forced to watch “The Flash” on repeat for the rest of his pathetic little existence. And no, I’m not deleting this.

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junsei-draws-rotasu · 1 year

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Watching TMNT 2007 movie (live reaction)

Heard lots of hate of the movie yet loves the turtles? I don’t get much from it, beside that Leo is hot, and Donnie got the fruit in this one

Dramatic intro

“An evil born 3000 years ago” It’s Krang isn’t it? Heard Leo turned into a battery in this one lol

Excuse me what? Okay didn’t expect taking over the kingdoms is part of the backstory of this past brotherhood

I’m guessing the Yoalt brotherhood here is the before reincarnation of the turtles. Which is why I’m guessing The turtles are reincarnated, like the IDW comics

Dude, the narrator is just going to ignore the female there? Like, it’s not brotherhood only bruh

Unless she identifies as male then carry on.

Also, what Kikian did, will that be foreshadowing what will Leo do? Yeah, I’m assuming Leo since that guy has a sword.

I guess my reincarnation theory is wrong

Okay, give some context please. It says Central America, and yet the dude says jungle. Is this metaphorical or literal? Im not American

The lady looks like Bell without the yellow dress

It is literal jungle. Why is it called Central America???

Wow, is that guy actually dead?

Wett, my blue -boy!

Is that little boy Casey? It would be cool.

Leo you look… idk what the word for the person who hangs with the trees and has a cloak on

Im assuming this is April

I—

LEONARDO?! Why did you sound like your flirting???

“Well… our strange crowed isn’t the same without you” Gives Leo a look, which Leo looks surprised at.

I— is this the origin of April x Leonardo?

“No, I’m not playing hard to get. I’m telling you , sir, it’s not that kind of phone line” They weren’t kidding Donnie would be the fruit in this version of TMNT

Yeah, children are brutal. I would know, since I used to be the child who bites peoples hand if they pet my head

Damn, Raph looks hot in his vigilante outfit

That voice… did 2012 Raph voice actors 2007 Raph too?!

Yeah, that ‘boo’ sounds familiar

“Your brothers need you Leo. Your brothers are lost without you…” they look fine to me. And Leo thinks so too. But maybe for April, Leo might go

Michealangelo VA sounds like 87 Mikey’s VA

Aw, Mikey missed the old days

Ooooh, Splinter looks so fluffy here!

Bet inside that box is Leo ( and I lost that bet… boo)

Damn, April cleaned up nicely

“Aguila” sounds almost like Eagle in Tagalog

Is Mr. Winters the immortal Kikian?

Damn, Karai. Also, what’s with the animation for the Women? Their waist so so damn thin, it hurts my eyes to look at them

Gargoels! I spelt that wrong but eh.

I’m so used to Casey being so armored up like in 2012. I’m not ready for 2007 Casey to just show up with a bat and mask only. Like—what? What if they kick your groin? At least 12Casey covered that up

Oh, didn’t realized Leo has light brown eye. Same with splinter. And Raph… I guessing all of them have light brown eyes

Ow, just how much Truama does the children gave Mikey 😧

“I think we’re going on the wrong foot here” Ha!

Dramatic entrance! (The low key evil… wait they are considering they wanted to concur every kingdom)

Okay, hold up—Splinter you expect too much! Especially when he just got back! The team would be rusty and of course they wouldn’t be well oiled machine like before! Also, Leo has been gone for almost 2 years! He can’t just heard his brothers like a dog to the sheep after being gone for so long! Also, this turtle haven’t really interacted with anyone!

There are excuses when Leo is out-of touched with his brother for 2 years! You can’t expect a person to stay the same they were before!

Oooh, April knows sword arts? Sweet!

No Nightwatcher outfit, Raph?

Wow, a smoke bomb that shows the ninja running out of t he smoke. Which is cool and lame. I liked it better when they instantly disappeared, but Raph got hit, soooo, fair

Okay, that’s it… Mikey… why is he so… goofy? Like, no serious moments or at least something badass? Is he the butt of the joke here? I’m almost an hour in and he’s just there… joking… like, I didn’t get any badass moments from the fight?

I was right about the Winter guy!

The music is such a bob

“I appreciate your intentions, but you can’t change the world like this!” Leo, I’m assuming a lot here, but, didn’t you and your brother do the same thing?

Man, Leo is quipping left and right here. Arrogant little sh*t (I say this with affection)

“I’m better than you” well damn, didn’t expect that.

Okay, this fight feels like they’re ready to kill each other for real. I mean, as a person with siblings, we do fight, but always have to hold back to not injure ourselves much, but this feels like real murder intent

So, Raph just realized he hurt his brother, and almost killed him…

Oh, so this is the scene where Leo gets kidnapped and turned into a battery

I’m sorry, but that “NOOOOO” is so fucking dramatic and I can’t take it seriously 🫥

What’s with this Splinter on Kneeling?

‼️SPLINTER! YOU DONT TELL YOUR SON/STUDENT HE’S NOT THE FAVORITE! WTF🤬 ! Even if you say he isn’t your least favorite son, you are IMPLYING you DO have a least favorite!

Oh? Are we finally getting an over due moment from Mikey? I hope so, if the writers messed this up on Mikey having a emotional serious moment, I don’t know what I’ll do

Raph, that’s more of a goal than a plan

It finally hit me, the General “Aguila” sounds like the Shredder 2012

“Come to Daddy” I THOUGHT Ya’ll ARE JOKING WHEN HE SAID THIS!! I almost chocked!

I would agree with Karai, but you gotta admit. They’re a couple when they’re fighting in important matter of times

Huh, so the Krang isn’t the villain, shocking.

And finished! I wish Mikey and Donnie get more screen time tho

#tmnt #tmnt 2007 #teenage mutant ninja turtles 2007

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sushigal007 · 2 years

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Ugh, sorry this took so long, I wrote half of this and then Tumblr ate it. So! Over to the Ramaswami’s, where Priya is demonstrating why Tumblr needs a NSFW toggle.

Don’t ask where she’s hiding that mobile phone.

Secret Sue: Just so you know, we do have a dress code, and that dress code is clothes.

Anyway, here’s Rani! Probably.

Adequate parenting? In MY game?

Well... sometimes.

Clyde: This, by the way, is why I end up becoming the evil twin.

And here’s Sanjay, thrilled about snow. Sanjay: It’s so cool! Getting the dad jokes in early, I see.

Matthew: Please invite me in before my chain mail rusts.

Competent Nanny - The Legend Continues!

Matthew: But can she powder this ass!?

Marissa: Eggs though?

Sanjay: I could sleep. So do it, I’m not stopping you.

Sanjay: You’re sure as shit not helping me.

That’s not a bed.

That’s also... hmm... Sanjay and Priya:

Oh, OK, seems I can’t interact with the bed, oops! I’ll just do a lil force error aaaaand...

Success!

Nanny: How do you suck so badly at this, Matt?

Ballet!

Hi Lazlo! Lazlo: HACK HACK COUGH COUGH. Bye Lazlo!

Priya: I mean, the great thing about a Victoria Sponge is that it uses basic ingredients and doesn’t cost much. Who wants to waste £40 and a whole day whipping up a mad trifle though?

Clyde grows up! He’s a fancy little guy!

And it’s straight on the pot.

Rani next!

Priya: I AM NOT HAVING A GOOD TIME!

Nothing a little TV time with Mary-Sue can’t fix.

Or, y’know, that works too.

So nice to see that parenthood hasn’t affected their love life.

Even though it’s trying really hard.

Baby goes on floor?

Baby goes on floor.

Sanjay: Can you not flush the toilet when I’m showering!? Priya: Maybe you should not shower when I’m using the toilet?

Nanny: Who needs outerwear when there’s men this hot out?

Toddler training!

Toddler trained!

Is there some reason you decided to grill sausages in the snow? Sanjay: It seemed like a good idea at the time.

Nanny: Peek a boo!

And then more toddler training.

Clyde: That’s right, give me the good shit.

Speaking of... Sanjay: You disgust me.

Priya: Wanna take a break from childcare and make out? Sanjay: Absolutely!

Sanjay: *motorboats*

Then back to childcare.

Decided it was about time I gave the nanny a nice, comfy makeover. Carmen: Maybe next you can try remembering my name. I’ll give it a go!

Well that was a fucking waste of time, wasn’t it.

Oh, in case you were wondering, Clyde really wasn’t joking about being the evil twin.

Jesus Christ, Clyde.

He does have his adorable moments though. Clyde: GET DOWN HERE SO I CAN EAT YOU.

Townie: Ugliest man alive. Sanjay: I don’t have to take this from a townie with glitch-tone hair.

Today I learned Sims can hold toddlers while they learn charisma!

More of this.

Priya: Ew, disgusting. Time to clean.

Once again, that was a fucking waste of time, wasn’t it.

Clyde: Bitch.

Priya: Nope nope nope I already cleaned that toilet twice.

Clyde: You were done with that, right? Rani: No!

Clyde: Wow, that’s too bad, ‘cause it’s mine now.

Rani: BETRAYAL!

Sanjay: Damn, did she throw up in here too? Quite possibly.

But before we have to deal with any new babies, let’s deal with the old ones.

First to grow up is Clyde. Clyde: I wish Matthew was my dad.

Nope.

Natasha: But is it art?

And then it’s Rani’s turn.

I’m just... going to ignore that. They’re getting new clothes anyway.

Sanjay: Hey, cutie.

Heather: True love. You’re at his kid’s birthday- Heather: TRUE. LOVE.

Anyway, here’s Clyde with clothes. For some reason, he looks permanently exhausted. Clyde: Evil is a full time job. Yeah OK shut up, Megamind.

And here’s Rani. She also looks knackered. Rani: It’s hard work being the good one.

Clyde: *torment*torment*torment* Rani: For example, I have to put up with this bullshit.

There’s always time for ponies though.

This would be a cute family picture if half of these people weren’t random gatecrashing strangers.

Pop!

So now Priya’s showing, I let her relax at home while Sanjay took the twins to the park.

Clyde: I’m in space, maaaan!

Rani: Tee hee.

And then Sanjay abandons his children to go gambling. Sanjay: Hey, could be worse, this could be that strip poker table you have. True!

The twins rolled a want for playground equipment and now Rani lives there.

Ah, now this is a nice family bonding picture.

And I couldn’t not post a nice, family dinner, could I?

Another pop!

But for now we’ll leave Priya and Sanjay literally necking. Sanjay: Honestly, I have zero complaints about the height mod, I’m exactly where I want to be.

Uberhood Index

#sims 2 #premades #Uberhood #Ramaswami

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saltypiss · 4 months

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"Aw man, I hate when Windows auto updates"

You fucking dipshit, using such HARMFUL dialogue like "auto update" anyone who's not hateful or bigotted knows to call it "Eventual Updates" and the fact you'd so WILLINGLY and NATURALLY say it shows just how much you hate windows people and how UNWILLING you are to learn all our intricate Bible Long Philosophy. As you know, anything less than full devotion is frowned upon with cancellation.

That's what it feels like when you say anything mildly related to trans people. Ignorance is treated as malice. And not one fucking soul is going to learn something that feels so cult-ish and Insider Knowledge driven.

Ya'll aren't special. Nothing but love from communities and protections online, nothing but positivity and inside joke labels, it's impossible, to learn anything, about you fuckers when you make it feel like a furry fanbase with codewords and shit. Doesn't help that most of it causes people disgust, whether dipshitted or personal, but my god man. Nothing. Is easy about trans people.

If you can't explain to a grandma who's actually listening, then you cannot explain it to anyone. Instead, ya'll explain shit like they should just KNOW and not knowing is a sin.

Trans people online REALLY are dedicated to giving themselves a bad image and then being mad when people aren't on the 7th level of hell in their ideology.

Like, man, nobody is going to accept the kid that demands to be called superman but is a violent little shit that gets mad at the pronunciation of "super man" and the colors being mildly off. Not one soul.

Consciously done or not, god damn everytime someone talks about ya'll, it's out of fear. I've got shit going on in my life, so my trans identity is in the backburner of all mental disorders, but my FUCKING god, the FEAR to just say shit around me like, buddy, most of what trans people say matters deeply to them, matters only deeply to THEM, not all of them. Not even remotely someone rational like me.

Lemme put it to you this way: People Want To Be Good.

You make it actually impossible to find reason or patience to talk to you. People should NEVER tip toe around you, you fucking narccissist. But that's what ya'll have decided to foster. Fear. Not knowledge. Unless you're trans and fully commited, you're "bad"

Seriously, your problems are your problems. And I think Trans people are gonna have to have that lesson crammed into them, because before I hear about cancer research, or a cure for Aids, before I hear any news about politics or anything art, before I get an update notification for my online order, I hear about trans people.

And it's always. Always. The dumbest shit.

You have dysphoria. Congrats. I know someone who's married to an insane person that tried to kill them, but stays solely to keep their kid safe and the systems aren't working because it's America, he's the only one who works, and he's clearly, only ever suffering. Everyday is work, everyday is anxiety, everyday is pain. Everyday is taking care of a kid by himself.

But please, let's not take time to hear their problems, tell me how MatPat personally bullied you. Tell me how someone clueless didn't label you right and it stuck with you alllll week. Please tell me how your problems are worse than anything else in america. Oh boo hoo. Boo hoo hoo. Woe is the trans person, again, again again, again.

Oh please, do put trigger warnings on everything, because everyone is as sheltered and healthy as you are, we have to put warning labels on words on the internet because god forbid people block tags or grow the fuck up. God forbid we say suicide instead of "unalive" or some pathetic shit.

Seriously outside of republican politics, trans people really have it better than any ANY other minority out there. You aren't hated for your looks, you hate your looks, and now, that's EVERYONE'S problem because the special prodigy minority stepped into the room. Make way, make room, Everyone Else, the trans person was mislabeled on an anonymous forum, every coddle them!

But by the sounds of things, you'd think we're back in the 50s and the blacks are trans. But uh, as far as I see, Florida is a shithole as always, and everywhere else is incapable of learning or normalizing because trans people accept NOTHING less than 250% maximum attention, affection, and knowledge.

Christ alive man. Just grow the fuck up and recognize the world doesn't fucking revolve around us. I hope to god this trans shit is a fad for most of you, because fuck me, trans people suck. They just do, and it's because you LOUDLY exclaim yourself to represent all, but you hardly represent anything but your own bigotry. Please. Just shut the fuck up, stop causing harm, and focus on literally anyone but MatPat ffs, the most frail, sick, dying kitten of a personality to attack over your shitty cult ideology.

Let's focus on the people causing harm, not people that mildly offended you out of their own ignorance you CHOSE to percieve as Vitriolic Hate.

#trans #bro the worst is your roommate walking on eggshells just discussing the latest trans insanity #like buddy I know #I'm broken in the same way as them just not the same ways #it's like trans people make all of their problems into a trans specific issue #and like understand your problems are never mine and I don't care about you #i care about a lot of people #but I have no patience for narcissists #which is most of the fanbase at this point due to people coddling the fuck out of them #like the thing that gets me is even if they were right about bigotry most of the time #it's so personal and/or mild I can't help but be embarrassed for the entire base #sorry but unfortunately not everyone can be online 24/7 and informed as you #maybe #you could try just discussing it #instead of trying to cancel them #maybe then #people won't be pissy towards trans people #but as it stands #on the internet Trans People are allowed to bully people for being ignorant #no one else is allowed #seriously go look at some forums and posts on other sites #just fucked up

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criticalgamingchannel97-blog · 1 year

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The Barefoot Girl - Academy Showdown Short Story

IT WAS 9:30 PM. A full moon. A smaller red ‘moon’, known simply as The Yolk, was hovering just beneath it. The fair weather of the day had given way to a harsh chill by nightfall, making him grateful that he had listened to Christy and worn his long thermal black jacket over his skin-tight suit. He sauntered through the cemetery, reading the engraved names on each tombstone he passed. Conrad Kittles...Meredith Patterson...Francois DuBois… He'd read up to ten different people before the next one stopped him dead in his tracks. A massive tombstone stood before him. It bore the symbol of a black dragon, belonging to one of Taqora's most powerful families. That is, until four years ago when a terrible massacre wiped out all but one of their members. A massacre that had become synonymous with their name ever since.

“Kageryuu...” As Amos read that name aloud, his skin tingled. He tightened his lips and sank to his knees, forming a seiza sitting position before bowing in honor of the fallen clan. While he didn't know anyone in the family personally, he always felt a strong connection to his fellow countrymen.

“Yasuraka ni nemutte kudasai.” Let all the souls here rest in peace. From afar, he could almost feel his sister Frida's silent judgment, but he chose to ignore it.

“Huh?”

Just then, a few will-o'-the-wisps emerged from the Kageryuu gravesite, one of which levitated over to Amos.

I must report this to Kaname-senpai.

He stared at the lone specter for a while then nodded before standing up, adjusting his headset, and flicking a switch.

“Wolf to The Garden. Come in, Grand Fisher.”

After nearly fifteen seconds of silence, a teenage girl about two years his senior responded.

“Go for Grand Fisher. Report.”

“I’ve arrived at Holden Cemetery,” Amos began. “The thermal scanner didn’t show any signs of life...”

"Well, duh,” Kaname chortled to herself. There was a brief pause, perhaps to see if Amos would bite. When he didn’t, she cleared her throat. “Sorry, bad joke. Please continue.”

“But, I did happen upon a specter. It is now known that Subject-724 is residing here. The spiritual pressure is quite strong.”

“Really? Are you sure?”

Amos nodded. “Positive. If she were to hide out anywhere, it’d be a place with a plentiful amount of souls.”

“Understood,” Kaname said, “So what now?”

“Gather as many souls as I can find so I can face her head-on.”

“Sounds like a plan!”

His target, Subject-724, was the human subject of their client, The Grimm. Female, blonde hair, short of stature, and an extremely powerful soul mage, S-Class. The target escaped from the client’s underground laboratory, leaving many corpses of failed experiments and unlucky lab assistants in its wake. Not even an ounce of blood was spilled at the scene.

For five long years, Amos had been trained in the art of assassination. He made it a habit to come prepared every time he was deployed. No matter his target’s size, strength, or experience, he did well to study their strengths and weaknesses down to the last detail before setting out.

“Hey, so I’ve been curious,” Kaname began, changing the subject. “When you were coming up with your codename, what gave you the idea for ‘Wolf’?”

“Your sister was the one who had proposed it to me.”

“Oh, you don’t say!”

“Yeah. I wanted to go with Ghost Charmer, but she told me that it was ‘too on the nose.’”

Kaname couldn’t stop herself from chuckling. “Wow, didn’t know my little sister had that much of an influence over you,” she teased. “Sounds to me like she’s got you wrapped around her little finger.”

Amos felt a wellspring of heat wash over his face. “Uh... it isn’t like that, Senpai, I promise. I just thought the name was fitting.”

“Ha, whatever you say loverboy! I know you’re blushing.”

“Please stop.”

“Uh-uh!”

Kaname was so immersed in her teasing, that nothing could prepare her for what came next.

“Boo!!”

“Kyaahh!!”

The sudden noise on Kaname’s end made her yelp. These antics were not foreign to Amos. Only one person in all of Eden Academy could get that kind of reaction out of her. Sounds like Christy just clocked in. Thank the gods for her.

“Chris-er-Twin Drills!” Kaname yelled, still catching her breath. “I thought I told you to stop sneaking up on me like that! You tryin' to make me have an accident, girl?!”

Inessential information, Senpai…

“Wow, you actually went ‘kyaahh!’ Gods, that was lush!” Christy laughed her machine gun-like laugh. This was usually accompanied by her holding her stomach, but Amos couldn't tell, what with being five thousand miles away and all. “I’m sorry, but you just make it too easy, K,” she went on, pleading her case. “And besides, your reactions are priceless. What would you expect me to do, not act on such a golden opportunity?”

“That would very much be preferred, thank you.”

“Bah! You’re no fun.”

“Well, there’ll be time for that later, hop on a set and help me out here.”

“Roger!”

There was a small hum emitting from Amos’ headset. Christy had opened a channel of her own.

“Twin Drills to Wolf,” Christy called, sounding much clearer than before.

“Go for Wolf.”

“Feel around your headset for a tiny button.”

Amos did as he was told. He tried to reach up with his only hand and feel around for the button but to no avail. After a few more failed attempts, he simply removed his headset to find a tiny yellow button. He sighed at his inadequacy as he used his thumb to press the button and quickly put the headset back on.

“Oh hey, we got a visual!” Kaname cheered. “Nice one, T.D.!”

Amos was still a bit confused. “Uh, so did I activate some sort of camera?”

“Uh-huh!” Christy beamed proudly. Amos could tell that she was grinning. “K and I can now see exactly what you’re seeing. So when we go into radio silence, we’ll be able to keep up with the action.”

“I see,” Amos said, sounding impressed. “This will help quite a bit during these missions moving forward.”

“W-Well, I remembered you were talking about having difficulty fighting and briefing simultaneously, so I figured this would help you focus on your missions. No big deal.”

“It is. Thanks, Twin Drills, I very much appreciate it.”

There was a long pause. A second longer and Amos would’ve assumed he had lost connection if Christy hadn’t spoken up.

“Hmph! As you should!” she scoffed. “But, don’t let this one little favor go to your head.”

“One? Seriously?” Kaname chuckled. “So what about all those times you helped him clean the dorm hallways?”

"Th-that's only because those hallways are massive! No one can clean all that by themselves!"

“Ms. Yamamoto does.”

“Ms. Yamamoto is a professional janitor in the Queen’s uniform and she has two hands!”

“Hm, true that....”

While the girls were bickering, Amos had made quite a bit of ground, all the while finding and contracting will-o'-the-wisps and other spirits that had yet to pass on. She has to be here, he told himself, but why isn’t my mana detection working? Is her spiritual connection that much stronger?

Amos surveyed the area around him after each step as there was a good chance that the target was made aware of his arrival. While he did not doubt that Frida would be quick enough to intercept a potential attack, it was better to be safe than sorry.

“Okay, then,” Amos heard Kaname say, “how about all the times you wake him up early, do his laundry, or bring him food?”

“Um, he’ll sleep all day if I don’t, his flat’s always a total mess whenever I arrive, plus he can’t necessarily work a stove and I’m no Marsha Steward, so I have little to no choice!”

By the time Amos returned to their conversation, the girls were still arguing. Although only five minutes had passed, he had already forgotten the topic of their discussion.

“Okay, okay,” Kaname said, having had far too much fun at this point. “So why does it have to be you?”

“Huh? K, what are you…?”

“I mean, there are plenty of people who've got Wolf's back,” she pointed out. “Hell, one of whom could quite literally give him a hand. Yet you always take it upon yourself to help him instead. Hmm… I guess you could say I'm curious as to why that is... ”

Oh, that’s right, he thought to himself as a bit of pondering brought the subject back to the forefront.

“Th-th-that’s…w-w-well… you see...” Christy went into one of her stammering fits while Kaname simply just laughed. Amos took this opportunity to chime in.

“Hey, uh... For what it's worth, I don't mind it when Twin Drills helps me out. I'm always busy, and it's not like I can just call upon the spirits to do my chores. Things were a bit rough when I first arrived in Cambridge, so it's nice to have an extra pair of hands from time to time…”

“......”

His statement came so abruptly that the girls had fallen silent. Amos was seriously beginning to doubt the quality of these headsets. Kaname had claimed they were “brand-spanking-new” and “top-notch”, but after nearly five hours in the field, they've proven to be anything but.

His concerns were quickly dispelled when he finally heard Kaname and Christy speak.

“Oh… my… gods…”

“You... you idiot…”

“That was the sweetest thing I've ever heard anyone say about... well, about anyone! Things appear to be looking up for you, Twin Drills. Don't let this chance go to waste or you'll regre—Ow!!”

Kaname was interrupted by the sudden sound of rapid and heavy pounding against flesh. The perpetrator must have been Christy, as she was cursing something in her native Zelsh in sync with the pounding.

“Ah! Hey, that hurts like hell, you little shit!” Kaname cursed back in the Common Tongue. “I’m so gonna get you for that later…”

Christy's frequency wavered slightly as she blew a raspberry at her upperclassman. Amos sighed and rolled his eyes. At this rate, they'll probably kill each other before I've even pinned down the target's location. He’d imagine an outsider would have difficulty discerning how these two even became friends in the first place…

Suddenly, a low melodic hum drew him out of his reverie. Amos came to a halt and listened. The hum was distant, but not too far off. As he shifted his gaze from side to side in search of the sound’s origin, he felt the facet joints in his neck crack.

“Wolf...?” Kaname called.

“You've been quiet for a while,” Christy said. “What’s wrong?”

“Shh!” Amos pointlessly brought his index finger to his lips. “Listen…”

“......”

The girls simmered down and sharpened their ears. The humming was dulcet, graceful, almost angelic. Akin to a merrow performing Siren's Song to lure in its prey. With each stride Amos took, its volume increased. It was now clear to him that the sound was coming from just ahead. After a few seconds, Christy spoke.

“Is that a… a children’s nursery rhyme?” The tremble in her voice made her perturbation quite clear.

“Mm, not any I recognize...” Kaname paused, perhaps giving the humming another listen. “Ah, it’s a desert elven folk song... S’hara of the Dunes, I think?” Her conclusion seemed to elicit an audible shudder from the younger girl.

“Ugh, humming an old dreary folk tune from Lai-Fatt Desert… In a cemetery… In the dead of night?! Uh-uh, that’s uber-creepy, no matter how you slice it. You’d best be on your guard, Amos!”

The boy nodded. “Will do.”

Amos trudged on. He was only a few steps away from a tunnel of densely planted shrubs when he felt a faint tinge of aura. He sank to a knee and pressed his open palm against the wet grass. As soon as he made contact, a powerful flow of mana began to emanate from just beyond the tunnel. And as he watched the energy swirl and flow around his arm, he began to feel a sense of familiarity. The same feeling he got when making contact with wayward souls. There was no longer a single doubt in his mind.

Bingo.

“Mm. I believe I've just found our target, Grand Fisher,” Amos reported. “She’s dead ahead.”

“Copy that,” Kaname said. “Okay…” She took a deep breath and then continued. “Now remember, Wolf, Subject-724 is an S-Class target, capable of killing an enraged manticore in less than five seconds, unlike anything you've ever seen on the Junior team. If there's even a single misstep, the mission won't be the only thing in jeopardy. We'll be keeping an eye out, so call us again if things get hairy. And please… be careful.”

“And you’d better use your damned brain for once!” Christy demanded. “If you mess around and die, so help me, I’ll curse your name for the rest of my life! Am I understood?!”

“But you kind of already do that, T.D. Quite often if we’re being honest.”

“Then I’ll do it twice as much!!”

Christy was one of the first friends that Amos ever had. As far as he could remember, anyway. They met around five years ago when he was brought to the continent for the first time. Things were a bit rocky at first as he struggled immensely with the Common Tongue, leading to numerous misunderstandings between them. Once Christy, a native Zelsh speaker, learned of his background, she could relate to his struggle to learn a second language and decided to take it upon herself to help him improve. Since then, he's frequently found her at his apartment with either food or a laundry basket. He considered himself fortunate to have met her and was eternally grateful for all she has done.

They then met Kaname Fischer when they were recruited to The Order of Eve's Junior Squad in primary school nearly two years ago. The headmaster of Eden Academy insisted that building trust with the faction's support team would be beneficial to their development. They worked together to complete ten missions, with the team guiding them every step of the way. Kaname, a freshman at the time, was the only member left, as the majority of the faction and support members had graduated or perished before her two lowerclassmen became official members. They've all since remained good friends.

Amos felt the corners of his mouth curl up. This was his first major assignment as a member of The Order of Eve, and it was unquestionably his most difficult one yet. The rest of his comrades were not skilled in soul magic, so they couldn't help him against Subject-724. Aside from Frida, who remained on standby, Amos was practically alone. He was grateful to hear familiar voices throughout his journey.

“I will, Senpai,” he finally said. “And don’t worry Twin Drills, you’re understood. I promise to be careful. Talk to you guys, soon.”

“Over and out,” Kaname responded.

The boy shut off his radio and put away his square-rimmed spectacles. He scanned the cemetery once more as he combed his fingers through his long, pale white mane. Standing up, he let his thermal black jacket drop to the ground. He pressed his palm against the center of his chest, closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and recited the words:

O’ spirits... O’ spirits of Holden. With my lifeforce as tribute, I call upon thee, for I have a task that must be sought through.

Will-o'-the-wisps flickered around the stump where his left arm once was. Sickly pale blue flesh materialized in the shape of a human arm, contrasting with his dark skin. From this new arm burst out five thin tree-root digits black as the night sky.

O’ Spirits… Dear spirits of Holden. For this, you have my utmost gratitude.

Amos was thankful that the spirits were still receptive to his call. He had been left on the verge of exhaustion from hours of intense sparring with his sisters just days prior. He removed the chains from his sheath, and held it to his side, gripping it tightly in his new temporary hand.

He concentrated on his breathing, then continued down the path of tall shrubbery, employing the foot roll technique from his stealth training in primary school. The humming grew louder and louder. Before he knew it, he had reached the end of the path. He slowly peeked around the corner and saw her.

A teenage girl wearing a white lace sundress sat on a large semi-collapsed tombstone. Her bare feet dangled over the edge, kicking to the rhythm of the melody. As she sang, the girl moved her head from side to side, and a swarm of will-o'-the-wisps danced all around her. There were so many that Amos couldn't keep track of them all. They always seemed to increase in number wherever he looked.

No wonder her mana was difficult to detect.

Without another word, Amos gripped the hilt of his sword, sizing up his target as he prepared to draw. Just as he began to pull the blade from the sheath, the girl’s tune came to an abrupt end.

“The spirits are certainly lively this time of night... wouldn’t you agree?”

Shit.

Amos ground his teeth and sheathed his sword before stepping out of his spot. The girl lowered her chin as she turned to stare at her would-be assailant. Upon her gaze, Amos became lost in the girl’s emerald-colored eyes, following their every move until suddenly, he could see himself from a bird's eye view.

Huh? What the…?

It felt as if some outside force had ripped his soul right out of his body. He could no longer feel the cool night air, nor could he feel the heavy breaths his body was taking. Amos had fought powerful mages, warriors, and gangsters of many races as well as some of the continent’s most feared monsters, but none of them had ever made him react like this.

No... I can’t let her take me...

Amos focused his mana and after a bit of a struggle, he suddenly found himself back in his body and let out a sharp gasp. His heart raced as a cold sweat ran down his face. After regaining his composure, he gave the girl a once-over, noticing the welts and bruises on her legs as she playfully kicked them back and forth. Soon the moonlight had completely diffused the darkness surrounding them, lighting up the entire cemetery. The girl's pale blonde hair appeared to illuminate in the moon's radiance.

It was odd, the sight was certainly breathtaking, yet the boy still felt a chill run up his spine.

“Hm... you don’t look so well, stranger…” The girl wore a puzzled look as she tilted her head. “Is everything all right...?” Her voice was dreamy and distant as if she wasn’t speaking to Amos at all. It made her question sound all the more condescending. She then turned to her league of will-o'-the-wisps, who indulged her with a cacophony of chirps, which made her giggle. “Yes, yes... he certainly is much stronger than I pegged him to be…”

The girl stopped kicking her feet. She let out a playful grunt of effort as she pushed herself off the tombstone, landing gracefully in the cold, damp grassy field below. At that precise moment, Amos found his new right hand gripping the hilt of his weapon, preparing to draw it should the girl decide to make any sudden movements toward him.

“My, oh my, he’s like a spooked horse! How cute...” The girl giggled, looking the boy up and down. “Half-Hōjinese… half-Anubian?" She turned to her wisps for an answer. They chittered and chirped vigorously as if providing a matter-of-fact response. “Yes, yes, you're right, Anubians don't have white hair… Ah, eyes of amethyst... Perhaps he's Zemian, then? Mm. So he is of bi-ethnic heritage like my brothers and me… Interesting...”

The unfamiliar term made Amos scrunch his face. Zemian?

“Hmm, and then there's that queer aura of yours…” The girl was suddenly speaking to him again; the intonation in her voice was more direct. She rubbed her chin in thought, eyes wide with wonder. “I detect an immense amount of spectral energy coursing through you… And that’s not all, despite making eye contact with me, your soul managed to return to your body… I have never seen such a thing... Anyone else would've simply perished from my Soul Extraction spell, but you…”

“......”

The wisps chirped again, this time in a joyous manner as if confirming her hunch. The barefoot girl grinned at the boy, her eyes dazzling as she slowly raised her right arm and pointed at him. “...Yes… Then it must be so... You are just like me...”

“......”

There was such an air of sureness in the way she appraised the young man standing before her. Amos eyed the girl carefully, looking her up and down for any signs of additional movement. Something was completely off about her. The way she walked, the way she talked, even the way she smiled. Everything she did felt uncanny, like a piece of her just simply wasn’t there. Amos was slowly, but surely starting to see why the headmaster and his associates were calling for this girl’s execution.

“Such unpredictability could prove dangerous if left to roam about as it pleases,” the headmaster explained.

Soul Extraction... No wonder nobody else could track the girl down. With a spell that powerful, she was able to destroy the lab and escape without leaving any traceable DNA. For someone subject to harsh experimentation, it was understandable that she'd develop a firm grasp of her powers. And with all those victims, she had a plethora of new souls at her disposal, far more than Amos could ever hope to stand against.

Fighting her alone will prove difficult, but wearing her down appears to be my best course of action, Amos deduced. She managed to catch him off guard earlier. If he repeated that mistake, he was as good as dead. And it wasn't a stretch to conclude that he'd be no good to her if he was dead. That I know better than anyone.

“Hm… You appear to be high-strung, kinsman,” the girl observed. “Tell me… could this perhaps be your first time… meeting someone else who can communicate with the dead?”

“......”

Amos didn’t answer. Or, more accurately, he couldn't. His esophagus had gone bone dry. In truth, this was his first encounter with another spectral mage, or someone of the 'whisperer' class, as the headmaster liked to call it. For a long time, he thought he was the sole whisperer in not only Empyrea but the Holy Kingdoms entirely. Clerics and onmyouji, mages who use divine magic to purify corrupt spirits, were quite prevalent on the continent given its namesake, but whisperers, those who form contracts with wayward souls and use their power to meet their ends, were almost non-existent.

“Oh, so it is!” The blonde girl smiled, her frostbitten hands caressing a small wisp. “It is also my first time meeting someone like me! I struggled at first against the monsters they threw at me, but once I figured out how to use my mana, fighting them became a lot of fun! But after a while... it became tiresome...”

She paused for a moment, lowering her gaze.

“Say... let me ask you a question, kinsman...” Her voice sounded much clearer, and more engaged than before. Again, her eyes met his. This time, Amos did not feel the same sensation as before. She gave him a look as if waiting for him to grant permission. When he said nothing, she continued.

“If your life… and everyone in it was suddenly taken away from you in a single day…” Her smile had faded. In its place, a solemn look of remembrance. “...what would you do… if it meant that you could see them again?”

“......”

It was a question that Amos had not expected. On one hand, he had no memory of his past life, his parents, his hometown in Northern Hōjo, or even how he lost his left arm. On the other, just like the girl, there was also that strong sense of yearning. So in a way, he felt like he could relate. The girl maintained her gaze, this time with her eyebrows raised, lips tightened. It seemed as though she was genuinely seeking an answer.

“I don't remember much about my past,” Amos finally said, “Nor do I remember anyone in it. But if getting those answers was at stake..." He then drew his Chokuto sword. A 27.5-inch blade with a hilt of 26 centimeters. His contracted spirits gathered around it, forming a rippling blue aura. “...then I would gladly go to any length to have them.”

Nodding at the boy's resolve, the girl released the little blue wisp from her grasp. She watched as it rejoined the others. A warm smile spread across her face. “I see…”

She inhaled deeply. A foreboding aura began to encircle her entire body in the blink of an eye. The will-o'-the-wisps danced around her again, this time more ferociously.

“I wish to know your name, kinsman… Could you please tell me?”

“It’s Amos… Amos Naragishi.”

“Well, then Naragishi-san… I believe I shall follow in your footsteps. If it means seeing my friends... seeing my brothers... then I… Nanaya Kusanagi… shall see this through…”

Kusanagi?

She closed her eyes and levitated into the air, holding both of her hands to the night sky. Her eyes then shot open, casting down upon him, with an expression Amos could only describe as dark… brimming with sheer malice. A bit jarring for a girl who was all smiles just moments prior.

“...with no regrets!!”

Suddenly, Amos sensed an overwhelming presence from above and looked up—floating over his head was a swarm of will-o'-the-wisps. When he looked around, he noticed that more spirits were rising from their graves and floating towards Nanaya, joining the others. At this point, there were far more than Amos could count. They grew in size, with some forming an arch around their new host, chirping in unison as they did so. Soon, the spirits began to morph, save for the ones surrounding her. Amos could make out a few knives, swords, spears, halberds, and even a few handguns, and assault rifles. It was at this point that he wondered just how the hell someone capable of all this had been contained for four years up until now.

This is going to get ugly…

He took a deep breath, raised his sword into a high stance, and channeled the mana coursing through his body, preparing for his target's—no, his opponent's—first move. The bladed weapons danced around the girl, while the long-ranged weapons hovered nearby. A few aura swords darted toward him a split second later. He ducked the first three, dodged the next two, and swung on the final one, sending it flying far to the left. When he looked up, he saw two aura halberds descending at full speed.

As he rolled out of the way, he was surrounded by at least 30 more bladed weapons from all sides.

There’s no end to them!

Nanaya lowered her hands as the weapons sped toward him. Amos sank to his knees, his sword at his side. As he closed his eyes, mana flowed through his veins.

Tutela...

The spirits Amos summoned gathered around him to form a shield, deflecting the oncoming volley of weapons. Some of them had pierced the ground around him, sticking out before quickly dissipating. He knew he couldn't keep this up for long; a few more attacks like that, and the shield would surely come crashing down. Before he could recover, a few more weapons were hurled at him, and they were low enough to slip through the gap between his shield and the ground.

This is bad!

Calling off the shield. Amos rolled to his left, dodging all but one Wiccastrean athame cleverly hidden behind an Empyrean great sword. The smaller blade slashed his side, sending a searing-hot pain shooting through his body.

“Guh...!”

Assault rifles and handguns followed. They fired at him with extreme haste. Amos took his sword and rotated it clockwise with both hands, deflecting a hail of orange bullets. These were not the typical guns he had to deal with on a regular basis. For starters, these weapons usually had people manning them, making it relatively easy to deflect their bullets back at the wielder. Those guns also had to reload when their clips or magazines exhausted their rounds—the marksman behind these guns, on the other hand, was currently in the air about 120 feet above the conflict, with no reloading time to speak of. Amos was partially impressed.

Her spectral domain is certainly more extensive than mine…

Knowing he couldn't spin his sword any longer, he broke away and bolted to the right, the transparent bullets close behind.

Nanaya could be heard cackling with glee. “Oh, this is most riveting, Naragishi-san!! It has been far too long since I've had an opponent of your caliber!!”

A Zelsh great sword and a dwarven battle ax materialized ahead of him, and Nanaya flung them at his head with a swift flick of the wrist.

Amos needed to act quickly. He took a large diagonal step to the left with his right leg, then stepped forward with his back foot, turning 180 degrees. He swung his back foot around, striking a brief eagle pose before launching himself into the air with his arms and right leg. He wrapped both arms to the left, which allowed him to rotate in midair. He could see the great sword zip past his head, indicating that the battle-ax wasn't far behind. As he made a full rotation, he noticed the ax spinning just below him, only a few centimeters away from where his feet would land—he had timed this perfectly.

And now for the tricky part…

Both feet landed square on the heel and the butt of the battle ax, he then bent both of his knees and focused all of his innate strength and a little mana on this next leap. Like an eagle, he soared, evading the bullets that pelted the ax below by a hairbreadth.

“Hup!”

He wasn’t nearly as high as he needed to be, so he called forth his newly acquired will-o'-the-wisps. The first wisp formed a flat platform, and the rest quickly followed suit, forming a makeshift staircase that lifted Amos higher and higher into the air. He gripped his sword and readied it as the spirits assisted him in rising high enough to charge directly at Nanaya.

“......!”

The girl exclaimed as a wisp from her arch instantly transformed into a katana. Its orange ‘steel’ flashed as it clashed with Amos’ Chokuto in one swift motion.

“......”

To keep Amos at Nanaya's level, his blue-flaming friends formed a large platform beneath his feet. He swung again, this time aiming low, but the katana deflected it. He aimed high, then mid, and then low again. Same result. He then hurled a flurry of swings at the girl only to be matched blow for blow by the invisible swordsman defending her, sparks flying as their blades clashed fiercely.

No doubt about it… this spirit was a master swordsman.

Amos made for a diagonal slash, but the invisible swordsman parried the attempt with such force, Amos’ arms were launched upward, leaving his torso wide open. The swordsman wasted no time in thrusting its katana toward his midsection. Amos quickly spun to avoid the fatal blow, only to find himself surrounded by a new bevy of weapons appearing out of thin air.

What?!

The weapons vanished as quickly as they appeared, reappearing at a lower altitude before lunging in a sudden burst. Amos sidestepped, ducked, dodged, and parried weapon after weapon, but as each one fell, a new one appeared in its place. He’d only managed to avoid a few more before the rest of them ran through him from all sides, perforating his flesh like a pincushion.

His eyes widened. As he cried out, that searing-hot pain, worse than the last, coursed through him.

“Aaaaagh!!!”

His spectral platform gave way. Nanaya giggled playfully, raising her right arm in the air as she watched the boy fall.

“This... has been quite fun, Naragishi-san,” the girl smiled warmly. “The most fun I’ve had in a long time. Thus, I have decided that you shall become a part of my domain.”

Amos’ breath caught in his throat—as he noticed an even greater number of aura weapons were suspended in the air. Nanaya had rematerialized the weapons that had just pierced his flesh and added them to the collective. She seemed dead set on making quick work of the boy. He became aware of a few orange spheres encircling his body and realized he was no longer falling but being held in midair.

“This will only take a moment...we will be reunited soon...”

With that, Nanaya flicked her wrist downward as the weapons began to rain down on him.

Here they come…

As the weapons drew closer and closer, Amos fought through the pain and let his mana flow through his body.

Christy’s going to curse my name forever if I fail, huh? He thought of the turmoil he put his friend through the last time he returned with a serious injury. He then remembered that she installed a camera in his headset. Who am I fooling? She’s probably cursing my name right this second!

The aura weapons were only mere inches away from him now. He no longer had any other choice. I had hoped that I wouldn’t have to use this, but...

Amos shut his eyes and spread his limbs. Then, for a brief moment, all sounds came to a halt, and he could no longer feel the cool night air as if time itself was at a standstill. After a few moments, his eyes snapped open to find himself surrounded by luminescent white walls that seemed to expand indefinitely. Without a moment’s hesitation, he began his mantra, calling forth an entity far greater than any spirit:

O’ Mother… O’ Mother of Terra... grace me with the phantom's reflection, so that I may embody your strength in my time of need…

Will-o'-the-wisps began to dance and swarm around him, eventually congregating and forming the silhouette of what Amos thought to be the visage of a pregnant woman. The boy had no need for confirmation, for he knew full well who his eyes gazed upon. After a long pause, the entity finally spoke:

Very well, child... I acknowledge your resolve... Heed my power with honor and grace.

The entity then turned to face the boy. It extended its arm and reached for him. The warmness of its giant index finger brought a tingle to his cheeks. Then, in a flash, Amos could make out a large face smiling back at him; bronze skin with hair as verdant as tree leaves in Springtime, and a massive multicolored eye of a brown, green, and blue variety. Its tone was so vibrant, that he could've sworn that he was peering in at the planet Terra itself. This bizarre yet beautiful sight, however, lasted only a fraction of a second, and any recollection of what the boy may have seen would soon fade from his subconscious. Gone from the ether and without a trace.

Huh? Where am…? Oh… That’s right…

Shaken from his momentary trance, Amos looked around. Grimacing, he rubbed at his forehead as the memory of where he was found its way back to him. With a nod, Amos turned towards the entity, now back in its silhouette form, and bowed deeply, giving his thanks:

O’ Mother… Dear Mother of Terra… for this, you have my utmost gratitude.

With this affirmation, Amos felt his being return to the waking realm as the hands of time began to move once more. Now back in the physical plane, his eyes shot open as he uttered the words:

“Spectral… Counter!!”

Just then, he noticed that the aura weapons closing in on him were no longer visible. In their place a large amount of spectral energy. It wrapped around his temporary arm, merging with the power bestowed upon him by the spirits of Holden Cemetery. To add to the craziness, Amos' ears were filled with a cacophony of voices. Love. Laughter. Tragedy. Sorrow. He didn’t even have the time to comprehend any of it as all of that energy quickly expelled itself from its host, forming a massive orange sphere.

“Wh-what… ?!” Nanaya's mouth hung agape as she stared down at the phenomenon. She couldn't believe her eyes. All told, neither could Amos. He'd used this ability against formidable opponents numerous times, but it'd never done anything like this before.

What is this…?

In seconds, the sphere emitted a rapid, tempestuous gale knocking Amos to the ground and launching itself with unrelenting force toward Nanaya.

“Aahhhh!!”

The girl screamed as the impact created an ear-splitting explosion. Its grand force pushed Amos back a few yards upon landing. As he recovered, he noticed Nanaya's body crashing to the ground a few yards away. He took this time to examine himself. He was losing a lot of blood, and his body ached every time he heaved in a breath. I need to close these wounds, he thought, seeking help from the spirits of his domain. However, not a single one responded. Amos also came to realize that he could no longer feel their presence either. Looking over to his left, he was surprised to find that his temporary arm had reverted to his usual stump of flesh.

Odd… I didn’t end the contract, yet they disappeared anyway…

This perplexed him. Normally when the energy thrown at him reached a certain threshold, his Spectral Counter would redirect it. The more powerful the energy, the more difficult the feat. This time, however, it did more than that; it also took the spiritual energy he had gathered before the battle. Something he had never known it to do before.

Was it because those spirits had merged with my domain?

“No!! This… This can't be so!”

The sound of someone crying interrupted his thoughts. He turned to see that it was Nanaya. Her sundress was torn, tattered, and covered in mud. She was on her knees, frantically sweeping her hands across the marshy ground near a slew of tombstones.

“No… no… I… I can’t feel them anymore… Where have they gone? Where?!”

The girl sobbed uncontrollably, nearly hyperventilating, as she surveyed the cemetery, becoming increasingly agitated with each passing second. Amos realized that this was his chance to complete the mission. He grabbed his sword with his lone arm and moved swiftly across the yard toward his target.

Sorry, Frida, I may not need your help after all.

Nanaya silently stood up, her back to him. Pressing on, he prepared to thrust through the girl’s trapezius, which would then penetrate her heart, an effective finishing blow. He was only inches away when he was pushed back by a turbulent force.

“Whoa!” Amos managed to catch himself and gather his bearings before glaring up at the girl.

“You…” Nanaya said, her voice cold and monotone. Her small hands knotted in fists and shook violently. “What did you do…?”

Amos stopped. Perplexed by her question.

“What are you talking about?”

The girl squared around to face the boy, her blonde hair adhering to her tear-stained face, shoulders heaving as she struggled to take in air. Her face contorted into a stony glare that rivaled any of her previous expressions.

“WHAT DID YOU DO TO MY FRIENDS?!”

“—!”

Amos was taken aback by her outburst. It was rife with anguish and hatred. The girl was now brimming with mana, the flower-shaped rune sigil on her left leg glowing bright orange and the air around them began to shift. Amos couldn't detect any spectral energy; this was her power, and hers alone.

This bodes ill…

Nanaya lowered her head, scowling at the damp dirt beneath her feet. “My friends…My...precious friends…” she muttered, her voice trembling as she wiped the bottom of one foot on top of the other. “They’re gone...and it is all your fault…”

“What do you mean, they’re gone? You aren’t making any sense!” Amos didn't intend for that much bass to be in his voice, but he couldn’t piece together what this girl was getting at and it was wearing on his patience. Instantly, Nanaya’s head shot up and snapped in his direction. Her eyes shimmered.

“This was their place! Their home!!” Her voice shook even more as she yelled. She dragged an arm across her face, attempting to wipe away the tears. “We were but humble guests in their resting place…and you drove them away…How could you?!”

Amos couldn't believe his ears. The realization hit him. “No… No, no, no... You…You don't mean I—”

“This was the only connection they had left to this world… It wasn’t their time yet!” Nanaya's tears streamed down her cheeks as she gazed from the ground, eyeing a harrowed Amos with disgust. “... And now… Now they can never hope to pass on…” Her body shook with sobs. “You…Because of your actions…My friends…they are forever lost! I was mistaken…you are nothing like me… Leave this place!!”

Her harsh words pierced him like a hot dagger, cutting deeper than the aura weapons he'd taken moments before. Amos had no intention of banishing those spirits from this realm. He shouldn't have been able to do such a thing, as far as he knew. He felt his heart sink to his stomach. As horrid a revelation as it was, he still had a job to do. Amos had mana to spare, but his proficiency in other forms of magic was lacking. His all-around specialty was soul magic, and with the cemetery now completely exorcised, he was barely stronger than the average human teenager.

Amos stood his ground, his sword in midstance. His act of defiance only seemed to incense the girl further.

“I said, leave!!” she roared. Before Amos could act, she was already upon him with shocking suddenness. Something jabbed sharply into his solar plexus.

“Gah!”

As a result of the impact, blood erupted from his esophagus, forcing him to lean forward and drop his sword. His gaze was drawn downward as a result of his new precarious position. He didn't have to guess what had hit him so hard. Nanaya was standing on one leg, her right knee pressing against his injured midsection.

Amos channeled the adrenaline in his legs and drew back, but only by a couple of feet.

The girl came in with a swift left hook, he dodged and grabbed her arm, attempting to throw her over, but the sharp pain in his side allowed her to quickly break away. She threw a right hook that was quickly revealed to be a feint before gutting him with another knee strike, this time with her left.

“Gahhh!!”

Although he stood at about five feet ten inches, his five-inch height advantage over Nanaya proved detrimental, making it easy for her to sneak in her knee attacks. That, combined with her incredible speed, turned her into a force to be reckoned with. Soul magic or no.

Amos knew it was coming, but enduring the pain was a necessary sacrifice in order to lower the target's guard. He coughed up some more blood. His body began to feel numb, senses fading.

No… not yet!

He quickly dropped to a knee before sweeping his right leg, taking Nanaya’s left leg from under her. The force of his sweep pushed her up a few extra inches. Before she could fall, he reached out and grabbed her right ankle, yanked her over, and slammed her face-first into the ground.

“Ahhh!!”

With his target's ankle pressed under his boot, Amos reached down and pulled a large bayonet from the holster on his right leg, bringing it down on Nanaya's back. A strong gust of wind pushed back at the boy's downward stab, knocking the weapon from his grasp. Nanaya then rolled away from her captor. She quickly rose to her feet and brushed herself off.

“......”

She dashed forward again in a burst of speed, but Amos was ready this time. Using all the strength he could muster, he struck the girl in the face with his stump before pivoting around to her back. His arm then encircled her neck, the crook of his elbow resting on her trachea. As he anticipated, she tried to push him away by expelling her aura, so he cast another defensive spell, this time a barrier around himself to soften the impact.

“Nice try…” Amos rasped, trying his damndest not to cough. “Like I'd fall for that again…”

“Be silent!!”

She then fought back physically, scratching, clawing, and biting through his flesh. He didn’t budge, but he could only resist for so long.

“Let... go!!” Nanaya grimaced, her fingernails digging deep into his arm.

She was starting to waver, Amos felt her muscles loosening as she struggled to remain on her feet, her heart was racing as it sought oxygen from her lungs. Her lack of experience with hand-to-hand combat had reared its head, just as the report predicted. Her affinity for aero magic gave her strength and speed, but without the discipline to back it up, she would be outmaneuvered every time she faced a trained opponent. If Amos still had his spectral arm, he simply could have snapped her neck and been done with it all, but he was already pushing himself far beyond his limits. Putting the target to sleep to weaken her before the kill appeared to be his only remaining option. ��

“Look at me…” the girl rasped, “So much time has passed… and I’m still making things… harder for myself…”

“Shut it!” Amos tightened the chokehold, trying to expel what little oxygen she had left to produce. The barefoot girl simply chuckled before entering a brief coughing fit. Her nails were still digging into his arm. And then, a gust of wind swept past them. This sudden change in the air around them seemed to provide the girl an opportunity to fill her lungs.

“I-If…If onii-chan could see me now…” Nanaya continued. She clenched her right fist, now brimmed with orange energy. “...Surely…he would scold me for being so thoughtless…I can't have that… Can I?”

Amos tried to apply more pressure to the smaller target's neck, but no matter how hard he squeezed, all he could feel was the girl's mana circulation as its intensity began to rise at an alarming rate.

This energy… Where is she getting it from?!

“Matsuga!!” Nanaya croaked as a swirling sphere of energy formed around her fist. The air once again shifted around the two of them. She then threw her fist back, pounding Amos square across the face.

“Augh!!”

The sphere gyrated furiously, grinding into his skin before a powerful gale sent him flying backward. He slid violently against the ground, head, and limbs hitting a few jagged rocks before slamming back first into a tall tombstone.

“Gahh!!”

The spine-crushing impact forced him to cough up more blood and vomit. His forehead was now wounded, throbbing vigorously. His vision was slowly becoming stained with red. He looked over at his target. She was coughing violently, trying to calm her labored breathing.

“You said... you’d do anything... to get the answers that you seek…” Nanaya panted heavily, she now sported a swollen left eye and bright-red liquid ran down her bruised nose. Amos' offense had done quite a number on her face.

“Well, then…”

The girl took to the sky. Once she was high enough, she closed her eyes and channeled her mana, emitting a massive sphere of red aura floating just above her head. It began to take on a new shape, stretching outward as it was ovated into wedged-shaped layers. From where Amos was seated, he could make out the sphere’s shape.

“Let me show you my resolve!!”

Amos sat there staggered as he stared up at the large object. A flower?… No… a chrysanthemum × morifolium?

Nanaya grinned before bringing both of her arms downward. A mighty gale followed, nearing the wind speed of an F5 Tornado. The wind rushed through the cemetery as the roots of nearby bushes and shrubs and trees held on to the soil for dear life. The force pinned Amos to the tombstone as if holding him in place for the oncoming attack.

“Matsuga…” she uttered as her eyes produced an emerald luminescence. Her pale sundress and long golden tresses danced in the maelstrom.

Damn… She put everything she had into that previous attack… And she still has enough energy to spare?

With all feeling gone in his arms and legs, Amos could not move, let alone fight against this powerful wind. He could only watch as the red ball of aura shaped itself and dispersed into multiple flowers.

I never stood a chance…

“...HANA!!!!!!” The girl roared as the flowers rained down on him. The suffocating aura seeping from them told Amos that he would not survive should this attack land; the sheer amount of red light illuminating the cemetery around him was bound to get caught in the blast as well.

Suddenly, a humanoid figure in black dropped down from the sky, landing in front of Amos. Even with his crimson mask and blurred vision, he could make out the ethereal features of the girl staring back at him.

“...Fr… Frida?”

She nodded before standing up straight and turning to face the threat bearing down upon them.

The girl quickly shed her tops and began to change her form. Her skin transmogrified into sickly pale blue flesh, similar to Amos' temporary arm. She then stuck both hands into her chest and proceeded to rip open her torso, which made a gross peeling sound. The harsh snapping of bone filled the air as her rib cage sprung open like a bear trap, revealing an ominous black rift in the center.

“What?!” Nanaya's eyes widened in both wonder and fear.

The rift then began to vacuum the large sphere. The magnificent gale didn't seem to phase the undead girl one bit as her feet remained planted firmly on the ground. Nanaya watched helplessly as her strongest attack was being drawn into the girl's body.

“......”

As soon as the attack was fully absorbed, the undead girl's midsection made a gross squelching sound as it closed itself back up. She shifted back to her original appearance and threw her crimson shirt and black leather jacket back on as quickly as she removed them. Her Bon Appetit ability required her to be half nude from the waist up. Replacing her ruined clothes after every use would get quite expensive, so this was the best solution. Any normal person would have found the whole prospect embarrassing or unbecoming. Not this girl.

“Hmm.”

The girl then turned to gaze down at Amos. She had limestone skin, round pale green eyes, and long jet black hair tied into a single Artorian braid with a crimson ribbon on top. On the surface, Frida McCoy appeared to be the quintessential teenage beauty, but her speech easily betrayed her true age. Her aforementioned tops were paired with a black and white grid textured skirt, black leggings, and a pair of black platform boots. This outfit was a bit outside of the usual dress protocol for Eden Academy, let alone Order of Eve missions, but no one would dare tell the headmaster’s eldest ward what to do.

“Another one??” Nanaya growled.

After belching out a tiny orb of red light, which quickly dissipated, Frida's gaze shifted up at Nanaya, who was still in a state of utter disbelief. However, upon receiving the black-haired girl's gaze, she quickly returned the sentiment with an icy glare of her own. Amos could feel an overwhelming amount of aura emanating between both parties.

Nanaya brought her gaze over to Amos, back to Frida, then back to him. At that moment, Amos could tell what questions were swarming through her head judging by her dazed expression: Who was this strange girl? Where did she come from? And how was she able to absorb her strongest attack in mere seconds? His role was never to try and eliminate Subject-724 outright, all he had to do was to soften her up a bit until Frida swooped in for the kill. At least, that had been the plan they discussed just days prior. Her cue was far overdue.

Frida raised a hand to the air. Black aura coursed through her petite body as she made to cast a spell. While the cemetery no longer oozed with paranormal activity, a skilled necromancer like Frida, however, still had thousands of corpses at her disposal, putting Nanaya at a huge disadvantage.

The blonde girl's breath caught in her throat. Realizing the looming danger, she clenched her fists and muttered something to herself before swinging her arm clockwise. Suddenly, a giant rift opened up beside her, flowing with immense astral energy.

Amos' eyes widened. “A portal!?”

“She intends to flee!” Frida immediately lowered her arm, canceling her Raise Undead spell, but it was too late. Without hesitation, the girl swooped into the portal. Its surface rippled as her body passed through it, and her feet were the last thing they saw before her form completely vanished beyond the rift.

“Damn.” Frida clicked her tongue in annoyance as a pair of large bat-like wings sprouted from her back. Crouching, she balanced on the balls of her feet, preparing to leap into the air and give chase.

“Wait!” Amos called out to his sister, raising a hand to halt her. “Let her go.”

“Hm?” The jet-black girl furrowed an eyebrow. Watching the portal close, her large green eyes then flicked over to the boy, shooting a searching glance. After a few seconds, she snapped her fingers before pointing at him.

“Tracking device?”

“On the hem of her dress... It should pick up her location shortly…” The boy nodded before changing the subject. “You sure took your sweet time.” He grimaced, applying pressure to the wounds he was able to reach. “I know you were only testing me… but did you really... have to let her beat me to a pulp like that?”

“What was it that you were thinking before?” his sister asked with a rather dull look on her face, her voice devoid of any real emotion. Amos however knew her long enough to know when he was about to be mocked. She placed a finger on her chin, adding insult to injury. “‘Sorry, Frida, I may not need your help after all.’ It was something along those lines, yes?”

“That was a… a temporary lapse in judgment,” He smiled weakly, blood running down his mouth as he looked up at the girl. His head had hurt so much, that he had nearly forgotten that his mind had been intertwined with hers long ago. For as long as someone shares a blood pact with a vampire, the familiar's mind, body, and soul become an extension of their sire. Ergo, the sire can always see what their familiar sees, feel their every emotion, and hear just about every little thought that comes to mind.

“Uh-huh,” Frida said as she stood over him, dangling a bottle of green potion above his head. “Here, I need blood from you, so drink up.”

“Oh right. Th-thanks,” Amos said before he tried and failed to reach for the bottle. “H-Hey. I can't really feel my arm. Could you… help me out a bit?”

Frida sighed as she set down the bottle beside her before grabbing Amos and propping him down from the tombstone, laying him flat on his back.

“Ow, ow, ow!!” he yelled, raising his hand as high as he could in protest. “Please be gentle.”

“Beggars cannot be choosers.”

Frida sank to her knees. With the potion bottle in hand, she removed the cork…

“H-Hey, wait! You're supposed to shake those first! And you could at least sit me up before you—”

...and shoved the bottle into his mouth.

Amos coughed violently as he guzzled down the potion. As soon as the bottle was emptied, Frida sat him up and smacked his back a couple of times. His wounds were quickly beginning to disappear.

"There, there,” she said dryly as her brother continued to cough. “Did it go down okay?”

Does it look like it went down okay?!

“Augh! Well, that wasn't intentional at all, I'm sure,” Amos cringed. “And what's with this strange behavior? Watching you attempting to play ‘mother’ in any way shape or form is simply…off-putting to say the least.”

"Hmph. Well, you are most welcome, my dear brother." There was a heavy layer of sarcasm in her voice as she crawled between his legs. "Now, hold still…"

Frida drew closer, ripped the collar off of his skin-tight suit, extended her jaws, and sank her razor-sharp fangs into his exposed neck. Amos, who was used to having two-inch fangs lodged in his flesh by now, still found himself wincing ever so slightly.

(That Spectral Counter… It was much grander than the ones from previous missions.)

Frida's thoughts spoke to Amos, flowing through the boy's subconscious as she fed. Their telepathic bond was so strong, that only the world's most powerful psychics could pick up on their frequency.

(It is a sign that you are growing much stronger.)

(Do you really think so?) Amos answered. He didn't feel any stronger. If anything, his exchange with Nanaya proved that he still had a ways to go. No matter what he threw at her, she always seemed to have a counter. As frustrated as he was about that, of all things, the girl's outburst was still fresh on his mind. His physical wounds may have healed, but this wound felt different entirely.

(Worry not about what that girl said.) Surprisingly, Frida’s words sounded almost comforting. (Exorcising souls is a tremendous feat. Soon you will be strong enough to lift my curse.)

Amos gave a slight nod. The curse. Of course. That's what this all boiled down to in the end. Long ago, when the world was much different, his sister was born to a vampire and a lycan, making her a werepyre. Conception between the two races was forbidden at the time, and her hybrid blood had made her a pariah among the monster races, who deemed her an abomination. For the crime of simply existing, the Witches Council had cursed Frida with eternal life. She was then abandoned in the Great Forest of Everwood where she would spend this eternity terrorizing its inhabitants. However, the half-breed girl was soon discovered by the headmaster. With the promise of finding a way to break her curse, he took the werepyre girl in and raised her as his first ward for the next millennium.

Then, just five years ago, the headmaster approached the boy himself. Amos had no recollection of his life before that point, only his name and age. According to the master, his spectral magic was the key to freeing his sister from her curse and finally putting her to rest. This task was the main reason he was brought to this continent. Simply put, he had to do it if he wanted to remember everything.

He had only gotten this far because of Frida's training. The least he could do to repay the girl was to break her curse. I need to get stronger, he told himself. Her entire life, she has been denied the very thing that every person will one day experience. She's lived a long life, seen everything there is to see, and done everything there is to do. My sister is overdue for a well-earned rest... That much I owe her.

Amos resurfaced from his trance and found himself back in the cemetery. The brush in front of them swayed to and fro as a gust of wind blew upward and through the taller trees, shaking and rattling their poplar leaves. The cool breeze caressing his cheeks felt nice and refreshing after the agonizing pain he'd been through just moments before. He then lowered his gaze, eyes fixed on the one he called his sister. As expected, the werepyre girl was still feeding. In fact, she had been feeding for so long that his neck had grown numb. Even though the moonlight was now farther away, Frida's jet-black mane still glistened and sparkled under the luminescent beam, a lot like their target's hair had done forty minutes prior. Amos found himself momentarily enraptured by the rare sight, before quickly shaking his head in self-admonition.

While his sister continued her late-night bloody buffet, he reached up and flicked a familiar switch on his headset. “Wolf to The Garden…Come in Grand Fisher.”

Kaname answered the transmission almost immediately. “Wolf!!” she cried. There was a great deal of relief in her voice. “Thank the gods you’re alright! The feed got cut when you were engaging the target. We'd already thought the worst..."

"Yeah, sorry about that. Frida's with me now, so it's all good." He immediately thought of Christy when he asked his next question. "How much did you guys see?"

"We saw just about everything up until you got knocked away by that Matsuga…" There was a slight tremble in her voice. Their Eve comrades were like family to Kaname, Amos, especially so. And for a brief moment, she honestly thought that she had lost a little brother. "...and the camera died right when the target was going in for the kill.”

“Oh… and Twin Drills…?”

Kaname hesitated for a moment. “Yeah, she, um…” Amos could hear what sounded like a door being slammed in the background. “She just stepped out. I think it's safe to say that she may need a bit of time to herself.”

“I... I see...” Guilt washed over Amos. He knew all too well that he had a brutal tongue-lashing to look forward to when he got back home. Of course, she's angry. I broke my promise, why wouldn't she be? Sighing heavily at his looming troubles, he pulled out a handheld tablet. “The target managed to portal out of here. I'd placed a tracking device on her dress beforehand. I'm sending the map your way, now."

“Alright… Got it!” Kaname beamed before something immediately made her groan. “Ugh, wait, it needs to buffer first… This will take a sec.”

Kusanagi...

This may not have been the best time, but Amos couldn’t shake this nagging feeling, so he needed to ask. “Hey, so that girl… She said her name was Nanaya Kusanagi. You don't think…?”

“Hard to say for sure, but her appearance and DNA profile checks out. We can't really ignore her use of the Matsuga, either. It's a Kusanagi bloodline technique, after all.” She paused for a moment, perhaps to gather her thoughts. “Either we're dealing with a perfect clone created by those sickos… er, sorry, I mean our clients. Or we’ve all been lied to.”

“I see.”

Amos had detected an unusual note of bitterness in Kaname's voice as she spoke. That alone told him that none of this was sitting well with her, either. Thinking back to the headmaster’s urgency when he issued this mission, Amos didn’t need her to say it outright. All signs pointed to the latter. Nanaya Kusanagi's existence would only serve to reopen a case that the world was already trying to forget.

“If your life… and everyone in it was suddenly taken away from you in a single day...what would you do… if it meant that you could see them again?”

The blonde girl's question still lingered in his mind. Numerous questions of his own began to pile up, as Kaname's voice snapped him back to reality.

“I know what you’re thinking, Wolf. And trust me, I feel the same way, but we can't afford to dwell on that right now. We still have a job to do, don't we?”

“Yes, Senpai. We certainly do.”

He found the sincerity of his upperclassman's words comforting. After a few passing seconds, Kaname spoke again.

“Ah! It’s finally done… Ooh, it looks like she wound up in Marlia City."

"Enemy territory?” Frida queried as she finished her drink, licking the leftover blood from her lips. “Not ideal, but nowhere near a problem."

Well, it's about time she came up for air!

"Um, they have Project Galanga and Stardom as their protectors," said Amos matter-of-factly.

"Your point?"

“My point is if either of those factions were to catch wind of us, we’d have no other choice but to deal with them. Need I remind you that Project Galanga has Black Fang as their leader?”

"Hmm." Frida thought about it some more as she pulled a large band-aid from her pocket, peeled it from its wrapping, and stuck it over the boy's fresh bite mark. She then crossed her arms and frowned. “Black Fang… now there is a name. With a man like that at the helm, they do make quite the formidable faction… I suppose that may prove a bit of a problem.”

Amos tilted his head quizzically. "You suppose? The guy wrestles drop bears for fun and has even killed 20-foot-tall nightwalkers, and you’re telling me that you suppose?" He shook his head in disbelief. "I'm all for a good challenge, you know this, but for the sake of the mission, I don't think we're properly equipped to handle them."

Frida looked disappointed. “To think… that an incredibly craven response would come from one of my students. And from my own brother no less… Surely you did not learn such things from me.”

“Wha…?” Amos gaped at his older sister. “Cr-Craven?!” He was appalled, yet unsurprised at the habitual callousness of her remarks. “That isn’t craven, sister, it's just common sense!”

“Excuses.”

“Why do I even try?”

“Alright, you two, enough of your squabbling,” Kaname reprimanded with a light chuckle. “I’ve already dispatched Nano-chan and Spitfire. According to their intel, both Project Galanga and Stardom are currently preoccupied with another assignment near Everwood, so direct confrontation is avoidable. They've just uploaded their rendezvous point to our database. Be sure to meet with them there.”

A green ‘X’ icon appeared on Amos’ screen. He nodded.

“Got it.”

The plan was crystal clear. Right next to Marlia City was a town called Little Hōjo. The place was chock full of Kannagi and Onmyoji, meaning the number of wayward souls in that general area was significantly smaller than that of Holden Cemetery. Their target’s spectral magic wouldn’t be as powerful without a large pool of souls in her domain, thus, overwhelming her with numbers was the ideal strategy.

“And Wolf?” Kaname continued. “One more thing.”

“Yeah?”

“You'll talk to Twin Drills when you get back, won't you? After she calms down, I mean.”

“Of course, I will, Senpai.” He answered her with no hesitation. Frida didn't say anything, but he could feel her eyes boring into him.

“Good. ‘Cause I need you guys on the same page if we're going to be working together.” Kaname spoke in a very frank tone. “Sometimes she can be a bit much, but she does mean well. You should know this by now. I'm sure you guys can come to some sort of an understanding if you just talked to each other more, y'know?”

“Understood,” he affirmed, feeling a wave of newfound confidence. “That's what I'm hoping for as well. Although… This isn't the first time I've angered her like this. Are you sure she'd even hear me out?”

“Definitely! Well… I mean after she's done pumping you full of holes if we're being honest.”

Unfortunately, that confidence didn’t last very long.

“You just had to go and make it scary again, didn't you, Senpai?”

“Tee-hee!”

Amos thought it best to cross that bridge when he came to it. In the meantime, they still had a target to eliminate. He looked over to Frida and gave her a nod.

“You ready, partner?”

“I am always ready,” Frida stated coldly. “You are the one who always needs tending to.”

“Well, I’m sorry that we all can't have your absolute healing factor, sis,” Amos mocked, walking over to pick up his sword and return it to its sheath. "And besides, what do you mean that I always need tending to? Did I not just feed you??”

“That... is expected when you enter a blood pact with my kind,” she remarked. "You are merely fulfilling a legal obligation.”

“What does that have to do with…? Ugh! Whatever.” As he walked back over to her, Amos heaved a sigh, realizing there was no point in arguing with someone who could kill him, resurrect him, and then kill him again. While she had never done this to him, he'd seen her do it to others. Amos knew he was valuable to Frida, but given her mastery in necromancy and the utter ferocity of her wrath, chances were, even he wasn't safe. And he for one, didn't dare test his luck.

Ungrateful old hag… Just then, a thought he had fought hard to suppress slipped out into their shared mind. Shocked by his carelessness, Amos clamped his hand over his mouth as if he'd said the insult aloud. Frida's head snapped in his direction, her green wolf-like eyes emitting a faint glow.

(I heard that.)

(I, uh... No, you didn't.)

(I most certainly did.)

(Did not.)

(Did so.)

As their strange telepathic sibling row ended in a momentary draw, Frida spread her wings once again and walked over to the boy. “Mm. We have dawdled long enough,” she said. “I shall deal with you later. At present, let us refocus on our mission. Now, on your knees.”

Amos knelt before her, his arm stretched out to the side. The werepyre circled the boy and knelt behind him, her chin resting on his shoulder. She then wrapped her thin arms around his waist, securing him. Frida readied her wings as she extended her right knee, her foot flat on the ground. She was getting ready to take off.

The boy nodded. “Alright, let's do this!”

“Amos, do not shout when you are so close to my ears. It is quite distracting.”

“S-Sorry.”

With that, Frida's wings beat frantically a few times before she used her right foot to launch them into the cold night air. As they soared higher and higher, Amos took in his surroundings. In no time at all, the shrubs, trees, and tombstones below became indiscernible. As the two began their flight down south, Amos glanced over to his left and peered down at his amputation.

Images of Nanaya's face flashed through his mind's eye. At once, the girl was standing across from him in the endless void. Her eyes welled up and tears streamed down her cheeks. Her lips were moving. He couldn't hear her, but somehow he still made out the words: Why? Why did you do it? How could you? Her gaze was drawn deep into his soul, searching for an answer. Unable to come up with one, Amos simply stared back in silence, hating himself for it. A sudden gust of wind broke the awkward hush between them, and the gale swept at her long blonde hair. And then, she was gone.

Huh…? No, wait, come back!

In the blink of an eye, Amos was once again soaring through the night in the clutches of the werepyre girl, the moon, and The Yolk in full view. Amos cursed under his breath, he still didn't have a firm grasp on his Spectral Counter and this frustrated him. Despite his sister's words of encouragement, the barefoot girl's tears remained vivid in his head, her harsh words echoed in his ears.

“You…Because of your actions…My friends…they are forever lost! I was mistaken…you are nothing like me…”

Those words had bothered him something fierce and he still couldn't make sense of any of it. No one had ever made him feel this way before. And little did he know... a violent storm was beginning to brew inside his chest.

END

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