#silhouette mirage spoilers
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zohar is so bigender swag
#silhouette mirage#shyna nera shyna#zohar#zohar metatron#zohar sandalphon#silhouette mirage spoilers#???????????????#ask to tag#my art
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Just finished grinding Assassin's Creed Mirage! WOOHOO! ୧( ಠ Д ಠ )୨
I think it's a deffo wonderful game and a refreshment after the RPG trilogy (it does have RPG elements to it, but still), and it also have some things that are lacking. It reminds me of the good 'ol days, but deffo not on par with the good 'ol days.
Here're some of my thoughts and reviews!
🕌 Sleepy's Assassin's Creed Mirage Review 🗡️
(Spoiler Warning ⚠️ Including the ending ⚠️)
Disclaimer, this is just my personal opinion. You may agree and disagree. I’m just gonna talk a lot because I LOVE Assassin’s Creed with all my heart. Here goes.
VISUALS
(+) Basim Ibn Ishaq, the handsome man that you are… HOLY SHIT (yes I’m adding him as the first plus point of this game what of it). Man's fine AF.
(+) Baghdad’s really beautiful, nuff said. The color palette is PERFECT - displays the warmth of the atmosphere really well, but also just enough greens and many starking hues of flowers.
(+) The waters and environment textures are CRISPY. The detailed patterns on the clothes, the engravings and the state of the arts is really cool. I haven’t really looked a lot into the 800’ Baghdad arts, but I can see lots of good details and art styles. SHOUT OUT TO THE ARTISTS!!
GAMEPLAY - Now here’s what I have a lot to comment on.
(+) Stealth -> I think they did quite good with the stealth. One of the many complaints that I saw on the previous RPG trilogy games was the fact that the main characters/players had no reason to be stealthy, because they can just barge in and defeat the enemies easily. Ubi has marketed the game to be more stealth focused and intentionally made Basim a less of a fighter (make sense, since he came from a thief background, unlike Bayek, Kassandra, and Eivor who are actual trained warriors since they’re kids). However, this brings me to the first lacking point.
(-) Combat -> The combat feels janky. I feel like I’m really fucked up in combat situations if I don’t upgrade my sword and dagger. Like I get it, Basim is not meant to be much of a fighter, but in the beginning parts (or… even the middle parts of the game, let’s be real), I feel like combat is HELL. I forgot the Youtuber who said it, but he said something along the lines of “I’m an assassin, I want to feel like an assassin and want to feel like a badass and can take down many enemies with ease.” And that actually rings true with me. When I’m in combat and countless soldiers are fighting or following me (and I don’t have the smoke bomb with the forgetting effect), I’m most certainly FUCKED.
(+) The fighting style is cool though, it's stylish and the finishing moves are sick af. It could deffo use some work.
(-+) Parkour/Movements - It’s alright. It’s most certainly better than the previous RPG trilogy, but it’s definitely not Unity or Syndicate. Sometimes Basim can do something that I didn’t want and I’ve lost count on how many times I got caught and died just from a mis-movement. I literally don’t understand why they don’t use the Unity parkours and combat styles. Unity’s parkour is smooth, swift, and stylish. It feels GOOD.
(+) Stealing - I’m a loot goblin in games, and believe me, I think I’ve spent like hours just stealing from the entire population of Baghdad that by the end of the game I’m probably richer than the Taxmaster and the whole entire Abbasid Caliphate. It’s fun, it’s easy, but it can sometimes be hard enough to miss. I just hope there’s more variety/difficulty in the stealings in different places – Like maybe in the Round City the diamond thingy is much smaller, or in like for stealing merchants (who has particular fashion/silhouette or have wallets/pouches with different colors) can be harder to steal from but have more rewards and money.
(-+) Map - OKAY. I love the fact that Mirage has a significantly smaller map than that of Odyssey and Valhalla. It’s focused and it’s much more centered. HOWEVER. For a game this caliber, and with this good of a graphic? It’s much too small and it’s too divided between two parts. Hear me out – The graphics are really cool, but I feel like the map is too divided between – either a densely populated city, or just barren lands of desert. I think the map could be much much bigger with much more collectibles and much more variety in the terrains. Like, for example in Black Flag (The S tier game. Argue with a wall), there’re more than one major city, while in Mirage the map is so very centered (Yes I get it it’s the Round City), but I’d love it if there’s another major city that we can travel to, like Damascus, for instace. + I love the Tales of Baghdad. MORE TALES OF BAGHDAD PLEASE.
STORY - nOW THIS… I never liked the stories post - Origins and here's why :
(-) LET 👏 THE ACTORS 👏 DO 👏 MOTION 👏 CAPTURE 👏 - My biggest complaint for the RPG game styles is always about the facial and motion animation. The cutscenes feel DEAD. The eyes are DEAD. I almost can't feel anything. Ubi is rich af, why not use facial capturing? AC3 was the first AC game to use motion capture, and holy shit… it's one of my fave games. Yes. All games, not only AC series. The emotion in their faces, the gestures, the small glances, the little movements - they all decide every character's personality. The reason why I love every AC since AC3-ACOrigins is because the actors pour all their voices, faces, even body movements into the interactions between characters, because they make the stories feel alive. Let the actors be actors. I can rant more but this is already a long post so I'll stop. MOTION 👏 CAPTURE 👏.
(+) I love Basim's origin story. Dude's a 17 year old street thief who got a bit over his head and ended up becoming a fugitive because he killed the fucking caliph himself. That was crazy HAHAHAH anyway even though I think the beginning felt a bit rushed I love it. I just wish they could milk it more.
(+) I love the side characters! Especially Ali (I think he's hot 👉👈 and he's the absolute freedom fighter). Anyway, even though they don’t really do much, they all feel alive and do lots of things (except Roshan prolly HAHAHAH but there's a reason I guess)
(+) Roshan. Mentor and reminds me of Al-Mualim. I particularly love the fact that after all that wise words throughout the game, she literally threatened Basim if he actually went to the underground temple. And when she showed up covered in blood??? And THE TWIST AT THE END??? "Roshan bint La-Ahad". SHE'S ALTAIR'S ANCESTOR. THAT FUCKING SHOCKED ME YOOOO. She's just amazing.
(-) Pacing - I feel like this is because they’re speeding things up (which is a good thing), the pacing is pretty standard in the beginning, but the ending is a bit too high of a rollercoaster mount. The ending went from 0-100 real quick. I feel like we need a more of a climbing storyline. This is why I kind of don’t agree with the ‘centering’ storyline instead of a linear story. Centering styles of story has no climb in the intensity, and because of that we can’t feel the character developments because he’s supposed to stay the same even though we’ve killed like 3 bosses already. And then when all the underlings are dead, finally the boss racks up Basim’s curiosity super duper high that it becomes too sudden.
(-) Weak Villains - The villains since Origins are always hidden and unknown, unlike the previous games where the Templars are literally KNOWN by the people. I want more villains like Haytham tbh, where he literally doesn’t care about the precusor sites and only wants stability in his reign as a Grandmaster. Or if the villains do care about the Pieces of Eden or have a prior interest of the First Civ, at least let them have an actual personality and character, let them be a menace and a threat since the beginning of the game instead of being the NPC’s we kill to finish the game. Let them challenge our beliefs as an Assassin/Hidden Ones. Let the villains actually have an impact to the main storyline. Imagine in the end Basim and Qabiha really went to the underground temple together, and got confronted by Roshan. That’s where the conflict in Basim climaxed! Imagine the emotion! The drama~!
(+) How the stories interlinked with Valhalla. Basim is a sage, and host of Loki who sought revenge to Odin (who wronged him). So I don't think Basim nor Loki are evil per se. They're just gray. Now the stories aren't just about Templars vs Assassin, it's more focused towards the First Civilization. It's a bit hard to keep up but it's nothing a bit of reading/looking up some lore videos wouldn't solve.
MISC
We need more outfits! The outfits are far too few for us to choose from!
Wonderful and mystifying music. Nuff said. Brendan Angelides and Layth Sidiq nailed it. One Republic and Mishaal Tamer’s “Mirage” in on repeat on my Spotify right now.
I love gear chests hunting and all the collectibles. I just wish the map is bigger and there’re more collectibles T_T I’M A LOOT GOBLIN OKAY.
I learn history of Baghdad LFG. I play largely for the stories and not the gameplays, so if there’s a codex entry or any new historical sites I always read it. Learning history doesn’t hurt!
How I can really relate to the real world. I live in Indonesia where 90% of the people is Muslim (I’m a Christian), so when I here familiar words like Alhamdullilah, Assalam’ualaikum and Wa’alaikumsalam, or see the people praying, the Adzan sounds throughout the city, the people praying towards the Ka’bah, it kinda feels like home! Just hope that they add more funny shit to it though, like “Yaallah Basim! Istighfar!” Or “WALLAHI.” Or more Arabic sayings so we can immerse more to the world.
MAKE BASIM DO THE 5 PRAYERS (maybe when we pass time or after a big mission we come back to him finishing a prayer).
FINAL VERDICT - 7.8/10 -> It’s a focused game, and it really did come back to some of the original elements of AC before the RPG trilogy. It’s not too long and casuals can play it without feeling like we have to grind like Odyssey or Valhalla. Deffo would recommend playing it!
Once again, BRING BACK MOTION CAPTURE ‼️‼️‼️🗣️🗣️
If you did play it gimme some thoughts in the comments! Thank you for reading! (人*´∀｀)｡*ﾟ+
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A Conversation (Twst fanfic)
**SPOILERS for Book 7**
Summary: A light that has once touched you would never fade, the magic never vanishes. It seeps into moments of your life, and dwells in the best parts of your heart.
Word count: 1628
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A/N: This is my third fic for the event “Anthems of Old” from @briarvalleyarchives. This piece is inspired by the song "A Coversation" from Mary Poppins Returns.
First fic - They Live in You
Second fic - Love is a Song
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“We haven’t spoken in so long, father,” Silver sets down the cardboard boxes he was carrying with magic and doesn’t bother lighting up the lamps in their empty cottage.
There is no one here to answer him, even though his mind could vividly remember the image of his father being there, hanging from the ceiling, hair dangling, lips grinning, welcoming him home.
He thought he was taking it quite well for a while. He never cried like that after that one time, and he could attend school and go about his life without any big issues. But now that he’s home, all the little pieces Lilia had left scattered in his life come together in a beautifully cruel mirage.
This is wrong. He knows in his mind this is wrong. This was their home. This is his home. He knows that and still he abandons the boxes by the doorway and follows the phantom of his father to the table, sits, and pretends it could talk back.
“Good to see things the way they were,” he starts, a stiff smile pulling at his hardened face. He can see outside the window the tree stump in their front yard on which his father used to leave his woodchopping tool also magical blade carelessly. He can see it has a dent there, now clearly visible because it’s empty.
“Come now, why the frown, my dear?” Silver’s eyes shoot back to the chair across from him, where the imaginary Lilia would laugh in response.
And that was the first magic Silver had known in his life, the greatest magic his father had ever shown him. Whenever his father would laugh and hug him, it would feel like ocean waves cradling him, clouds enfolding his body, moonlight showering over him. It would feel like a great fire with all its mighty strength just gently grazing the skin on his cheek to make him cozy and warm. It would feel like everything was fine.
The imaginary Lilia was halfway across the table, his hands outstretched, almost touching Silver. But as Silver’s fist strikes powerlessly against the table, the mirage vanishes, the magic vanishes.
This is wrong. All this lamenting, all this moping, this isn’t how his father had told him to carry on. And Silver wants to believe that his father had raised him to be strong, strong enough that he could stand up again even if he has lost his whole world, because that was the kind of strength his father had.
Though that silhouette he always chased after is gone, that hand offered to help him get to his feet is no longer there, he can still hear that stern voice echoing, “Stand up, Silver. Stand up.”
Silver gives a glance to the cardboard boxes he left by the doorway. He brought these back from his father’s room in Diasomnia, he promised himself that he would keep these trinkets and knickknacks, he promised himself that he would tidy them up properly. Yet he remains motionless in his seat.
It’s no use. No matter how hard he tries to grab hold, what’s left of his father only continues to slip through his fingers. “Where did you go? Why did you go?” No matter how many times he repeats these questions at the air, no answer would come.
He is tired. Lying down on the table, he lets his eyes close. Maybe he should sleep, he feels so tired…
“Silver?” the horned visitor calls out from the doorway, stopping at the boxes at his feet curiously. No reply came, so he calls again, “Silver.”
Silver’s eyes open sharply at the voice and he bolts up from his seat, standing straight, “Malleus-sama! What brings you here?”
And now Malleus feels bad, his presence makes it difficult for Silver to loosen up, even though he knows the boy needed that more than anything at the moment.
“To check on you,” Malleus says with the mildest tone he can manage, which is quite difficult for him, “Are you alright, Silver? It’s not like you to just leave those boxes at the door.”
“My apologies. I was…” Silver pauses. He doesn’t quite know what he was even doing, “I was… uh…”
“Be at ease,” Malleus walks to the table and taps his finger on Silver’s seat, himself settling in the one next to it, “No need to fret.”
Silver lowers his head in gratitude, but he can’t find the words to reply. He sits quietly with his hands folded.
Malleus frowns at the subtle hints of distress in Silver’s voice and expression, “Is it painful?” he tries to probe, “For you to be back here?”
“No, of course not,” Silver says hastily, “This is my home.” But then he lowers his head again, “It only… feels silent.”
Malleus does not reply. He understands the sentiment but he doesn’t say it. He too had been in the palace’s music room, playing his father’s cello, and even though the beautiful timbre reverberated smoothly off painted stone walls, he had found it silent.
But not for this cottage. His mind can still vividly remember the image of Lilia sitting in front of the fireplace, singing gently a nostalgic lullaby to put a human baby to sleep. He can still hear Lilia’s voice echoing in these wooden walls the way it did in his heart when Lilia had sung the same melody to him as a child. He can be sure Lilia was here, is here, still here.
So Malleus tries to do it how Lilia would. He tries to remember what Lilia sounded like when he spoke softly. He tries to follow how Lilia would crouch down to meet the children’s eyes. He tries to tell Silver what he thinks Lilia would — what he thinks Lilia should’ve said, “Silver, do you remember one of his lullabies that you loved as a child?”
Silver raises his head as he tries to think, “The ‘love is a song’ one? How nostalgic.” He manages a small smile at the memory.
“Yes. ‘Love is a song that never ends’ is how it goes,” Malleus confirms, and continues, “For me, I feel like I can understand what his song means, when I look at you.”
“Me? But how? It’s father’s song…”
“Yes, it’s Lilia’s song for you. You are the one who remembers it, he wanted you to be the one to remember it. You were who he chose to love, and so you are the proof that he had loved.” Malleus shifts his gesture. That was the answer he filled in for Lilia, now he takes in a brief breath, and narrates his own, “When I look at you, Silver, I feel like I can see him too.”
“How can that be true, Malleus-sama?” Silver shakes his head, “I look nothing like father.”
Malleus blinks, and the image he saw of Lilia by the fireplace is swiftly replaced by the image of Lilia standing beside Silver, hugging the human by the shoulders with strength and gentleness, and then he’d stroke Silver’s cheeks, or rest his hand on Silver’s head, and he’d grin like the happiest fae in the world.
“It’s truer than you can imagine,” Malleus smiles, forcing his eyes to return from the image of Lilia back to Silver, “He lives in you, after all.”
“That is not true,” Silver looks away this time, “We only had a decade and a few more years. There was not enough of him that I have taken after. I wish I could live more like him and proudly say that I—”
“You are his son, Silver,” Malleus interrupts. There were many things that Lilia didn’t want to leave behind for Silver, many things that he didn’t want Silver to take after, but that’s beside the point right now. “You are his one and only son. And if you ever have doubts about that, look at your reflection next time you think of him, then you would surely remember how your smile was always meant for him.”
A light that has once touched you would never fade, the magic never vanishes. It seeps into moments of your life, and dwells in the best parts of your heart. Lilia did fumble and falter, and his ways were not the best to say the least, but his song and light and love and magic had still been delivered properly. Lilia’s song will always echo in this cottage, and will never end, for it is a part of what constitutes Silver, a part of what raised Silver to be who he is now.
“I see…” Silver puts a hand to his chest, “There is so much that father had left behind for me.” There is so much of Lilia that he already has. It’s just that he has never looked hard enough in the mirror, never looked hard enough at himself to see it.
“Thank you, Malleus-sama,” Silver bows his head, and when he raises his eyes again he thought he could see Lilia flying beside Malleus, practically glowing with pride, “Thank you for giving me such kind words, words that father might have given me.”
Malleus pauses. Did it sound like that? Did he sound like Lilia? He lets out a breath he didn’t remember holding in. He feels Lilia’s hands on his tensed shoulders, and he muses quietly, “I see. I see Lilia has left behind much for me as well.”
Silver continues, “Would you like to stay for dinner tonight, Malleus-sama? We could invite Sebek as well. I’m sure father would be delighted, if he were here.”
And it was as if they could both hear Lilia’s voice coming from above their heads, hanging from the ceiling, hair dangling, lips grinning, “A wonderful idea, my dear!”
#twisted wonderland#twst silver#malleus draconia#lilia vanrouge#twst writing#twst fanfiction#twst fanfic#twisted wonderland fanfiction#twisted wonderland writing#twst#diasomnia#twst spoilers
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alone.
-> kaedehara kazuha x gn!reader
-> warnings: new event spoilers, kazuha’s past
a/n: ive got a lot of kazu fics lined up sorry in advance lmao
Since leaving the bonsai tree, Kaedehara Kazuha was strangely quiet.
Granted, the samurai was always on the quieter side, but this was different. The aura around him seemed different, and not in a positive way. Despite smiling his way through his mirage and coming to conclusions about his life that seemed to please him, there was still a lingering thought in the back of his mind, floating obviously to everyone who had experienced it with him.
Xinyan and Paimon tried their hardest to lighten the mood on the sail back to the main island, and their antics seemed to work on everyone else. You would laugh along with everybody, but you couldn’t stay completely focused on the conversations at hand. Your eyes constantly flitted towards Kazuha, whose smile still didn’t reach his eyes like usual.
He disappeared once you reached the shore.
Nobody mentioned it, opting to give Kazuha space after he had to practically relive his traumatic past in the length of a day. He was strong, he would get through it and come around when he was ready. That’s what he always did.
You couldn’t help but disagree. As much as everyone told you to leave him be, your worry overtook you. The little nagging voice in the back of your head became too annoying to bear and when the moon was high, you slipped out of your tent and ventured to the other end of the island, finding the silhouette of the very man you were looking for.
You stepped lightly, as if not to startle him before shaking your head. Kazuha was blessed with immaculate senses– he knew you were coming. He could hear your breaths across the island, smell your scent as you came closer. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think that Kazuha could read your mind as well. Despite all of this, he never acknowledged your presence, even after you had sat down beside him. A few moments passed. You breathed in, ready to speak–
“Do you think of me any differently?”
You paused for a second, taken aback. “Why would I?”
“Some people believe that my past is all I am. All I will be. A fighter, a criminal. A failure to the Kaedehara clan.” Red eyes glanced at you, “I do my best to move past all of that, as you can tell, but it’s difficult not to get caught up in the sticky webs that my story spins. I was many things– none of them good.”
“You said it yourself, Kazu. Your past doesn’t define you. It doesn’t matter what other people think of you, you know who you are.”
He hummed. “That doesn’t answer my question, though.”
“It doesn’t?”
“Not at all. I asked, what do you think of me, Y/N?” Kazuha’s body was turned more towards you now, “You’ve seen me at my lowest, when I didn’t know if I should continue fighting or give up and let everything consume me. I was, and still am, a broken man just trying to pick up the pieces and glue them back together. I try to push you all away– to not let anyone see weakness– and yet somehow the Universe decides to open up my past for everyone to see. What does that mean?”
“I think,” You take a small breath, “I think this is the Universe trying to tell you that you’re not alone anymore, Kazuha. We all have been through things, and we’re going to see that if the rest of our mirages open up. But now we know what you’ve been through and see how much you’ve grown, and we can help you get even better. We want to help. I want to help.”
Kazuha stayed quiet, turning his face back towards the vast sea in front of you. His eyes were still cloudy with thought, and you felt a little helpless. As if nothing you were saying was truly getting to him– making him understand that a life of wandering doesn’t mean a life of loneliness.
Then, gentler than the breeze, your pinky grazed against his.
Kazuha snapped his head back towards you and softened. His lips turned just the slightest bit upwards, still not reaching his worried eyes. His own pinky intertwined with yours and in what seemed like a sudden rush of confidence, Kazuha’s hand completely engulfed your own.
“You can let me in, Kazuha. It’s safe. I’m safe.”
“You’re safe.”
No more words were spoken. They weren’t needed. And the closer you slid into Kazuha’s side, the more he was willing to let down his walls. Your head rested on his shoulder, and he prayed that you couldn’t hear the rapid beating of his heart– nervousness. Nervous about the past, the future, and everything in between, but Kazuha knew it would be alright.
He wasn’t alone anymore, after all.
#fic blog#x reader#fanfiction#writing#genshin impact#lay writes#genshin impact x reader#kazuha#kaedehara kazuha#kazuha x reader#kazuha genshin impact
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Silhouette Mirage (1997)
SPOILERS FOR A GAME TWO PEOPLE ON THE ENTIRE PLANET HAVE PLAYED
treasure is one of those strange developers that you don't typically see anymore except for indie circles. they hated marketability and rehashing the same game ideas and IPs over and over again, and when they made a game, they would always strive to make something brand new. this is particularly evident in the japan exclusive sega saturn game silhouette mirage, made by the same internal development team that made the really strange but cool platformer dynamite headdy 3 years prior. and if you thought dynamite heady was strange, then boy howdy…
this game is pretty niche in the catalog of the already niche developer; it has not been rereleased in any form besides a japan exclusive PSN release in 2010. this is a game that strives for originality above all else, almost to it's detriment. as simply put as possible, this is a 2d platformer/run-and-gun... thing. the main gimmick of this game is that there are two types of enemies, silhouettes (blue) and mirages (red). the main character, shyna, has an ambidextrous sprite and can switch between both these elements depending on which way she is facing. if you shoot an enemy of the opposite color, say facing right so that your sprite is red and then shooting a blue enemy, they will take damage and after enough hits, die. but if you shoot an enemy of the same color, it simply drains their spirit (think MP). if they dont have any spirit, they cant perform any special attacks.
there are 7 different weapons, called parasites, named after each of the deadly sins. i tended to use gluttony the most, as it shoots a giant laser for as long as you hold the button (the other weapons tend to be button mashy). but here's the catch; if an enemy drains YOU of all your spirit, it will kill your parasite and you wont be able to use it anymore. how do you get more parasites? a bunny sells them to you for cash. how do you get cash? you go up to an enemy and bash their fucking brains in with your fist, making them drop gold. you can even do this to bosses. there's like 40 different moves in the game like this and rather than being demonstrated to you organically, they are explained only once during a boring tutorial at the beginning of the game. by the time it was over i had already forgotten most of them as some are so situational they're not even worth using.
oh yeah, by the end of the game, there are some enemies and bosses that are neither silhouette OR mirage! you try to shoot them but all your attacks bounce right off. to handle these fucking assholes, you must wait for them to sporadically shoot a projectile at you and use your reflector to slowly chip away at their health over the course of 5 minutes. this is as obnoxious as it sounds.
if the whole two elements thing sounds like ikaruga, well, it is. silhouette mirage was the origin of the polarity switch system in that game, but i feel like it's handled better in ikaruga. i would've much rather had a button press to switch elements im weak/resistant to rather than it having it depend on which direction i'm facing. you CAN press a button to change which side of shyna is red or blue, but the animation for it takes so long and it drains so much of your valuable spirit meter that it's never worth it. oh yeah did i mention your parasite gets weaker the less spirit you have? and in the fucking awful playstation localization by working designs, your spirit meter counts as AMMO!?!?!?!?!?!!!?? just play the saturn version; it's even fan translated now.
okay, so the gameplay is kind of a mess, but how's the everything else like the aesthetics? in a word: very fucking good. the art style is immediately pleasing to the eye with some really nice pixel art, some fun enemy designs, as well as a cute and very likable main character. the music is incredible: it's the same composers as dynamite headdy and guardian heroes, so from that pedigree alone you're guaranteed tons of bangers. the levels you traverse also look really cool, from a nighttime city to a european castle and even a fucked up game show.
the story, as crazy as it is, ultimately goes into very dark and uncomfortable territory, much like a kirby game, and only got more and more interesting as i played. i particularly liked the endings; there are several and rather than just the typical "good ending" or "bad ending", they're both very subjective and what outcome that would be more preferable will depend on the person playing the game. as non-spoilerly as possible: would you rather restore the ruined earth to it's former state but be forgotten by history, or keep it as is and be celebrated and beloved for all of time by the few people that still remain on the planet? holy shit, is this a shin megami tensei game in disguise or what?! the ending to the game has been stuck in my head ever since i beat it, and truthfully, it made the very annoying climax of the game all worth it.
should you play this game? uh, maybe! are you a fan of treasure, namely of ikaruga and/or dynamite headdy? do you like weird, wacky, ultra unconventional games? do you like cutesy games with hidden dark sides? are you jonesin' for more import games to play on the sega saturn? if you answered yes to any of these questions, piraI MEAN LEGALLY OBTAIN THIS GAME anyway you can. don't bother with the american playstation port, as mentioned earlier working designs fucked with it's mechanics making it a chore to play and filled the script with outdated 90's references while simultaneously censoring the dicier content to get that sweet succulent E for everyone rating. it's not perfect, and it's not even the best treasure game on the saturn, but it's guaranteed to be a game unlike anything you've ever played.
7/10
NOTE: working designs gave one of the bosses an arnold schwarzenegger impression voice. seriously. just play the saturn version.
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Watching “The New Scooby-Doo Movies” (1972-1973) + Thoughts
This series comes after Scooby-Doo, Where Are You?
I think the basic premise is that the Scooby Gang gets into a mixture of mysteries and shenanigans with various famous characters (both real and fictional)
Will I finally hear the long sought after “And I would have gotten away with it too, if it weren’t for your meddling kids!” line?
Only one way to find out.
Spoilers under the cut!
PS. Thank you to all who have messaged me with different sources in order to watch this series!! 🥰
Also:
Seeing these messages right after I read a webtoon about a serial killer using social media to hunt his victims down (The Killing Vote. Highly recommend!) may or may not have accidentally scared the living daylights out of me before seeing you guys were just sending me potential Scooby Doo show links. 🤣
Episode 1: Ghastly Ghost Town; Guest Starring: The Three Stooges!
Fun Fact: when I was younger, I watched a collection of videos staring The Three Stooges, some of them starring Shemp instead of the more famous Curly! I thought they were both funny, but I feel bad Shemp had little to no recognition nowadays…
Is it possible to both forget the existence of and be nostalgic for an opening credits sequence? Somehow that is my current feeling.
King Kong, is that you?
Don’t recall Shaggy being the one announcing the guests with the title cards.
Man I missed looking at the background scenery. Flashing Lightning effects are great! Moving clouds are smooth! Analogous purple colors are gorgeo-! Oh wait, I’m supposed to pay attention to the Ghost Town sign, aren’t I?
Man this is hard to understand without captions. (Yes, even in my own language. Leave me alone.)
“Boy, are we ever lost!” “I think we took the wrong turn…er, about 10 miles back.” Well, that would have been helpful to know about 10 miles ago. Also, Frelma just because 😆
Is it me or is the art style slightly different? Shaggy’s face looks less like a cylindrical oval bean and more like a rounded inverted triangle.
“Hey look! I just saw a mirage!!” “At night???” Is Freddy’s voice actor different? He has a higher pitch than before.
Where did all of these animals come from?
Sign says: “Monster Ahead: 1000 yds.” Me: *turns around and walks the opposite direction.*
Random Giant Mechanical bat flies out of no where so that I am force-fed damsel-in-distress Daphne and Fraphne food.
Animation goof: Fred has the WEIRDEST expression drawn on his face while Daphne continues to hold onto him. (The latter part not a goof.)
T-Rex that is most likely an automatron is giving me war flashbacks to that time-travel dinosaur ride in Disney World’s Animal Kingdom. Though I will say I was the only kid around my age that didn’t duck into the safety of the seats when it roared into our faces 😁
Animators/Writers, I get it. You want us to ship Fraphne and have Daphne hide behind a strong manly man. But since you also put Shaggy there, I will elect to interpret this as Shaphne hiding behing the manly man that is Fred, so…😝 🩷
Scooby is part ground/prairie dog/mole confirmed??
Before the mysterious silhouette reveals our trio of comedians, I have to ask: are they the Hanna Barbera versions where they are all androids/cyborgs or something?
The Scooby Gang just watch and laugh at the Stooges flail around and try to stop the orangutan from escaping. Real helpful, I know. Also, Shag and Daph standing next to each other, so Shaphne (Am I weird for scrounging for my ship’s crumbs as opposed to the supposedly canon ship’s full course meal? Yes, yes I am.)
“HEY! AREN’T YOU LARRY, MOE, AND CURLY JOE?” Freddy, I know they’re short but you don’t have to yell out your question when they’re right next to you.
“Look, we need help!” Moe: “A psychiatrist could tell you that.” 🤣🤣🤣🤣
Animation Goof: Moe’s chin moving past his jawline. Also, Shaggy looking bigger than both him and Fred, but that could be because the animators are trying to play with perspective.
Ooh, an amusement park!
So the giant bat thing does not belong to the stooges. Early Batman cameo?
Animation Goof: Curly’s mouth doesn’t move as he speaks.
Tyronne the Tyrannosaurus Rex
Suspicious person peaking at them all through the saloon window is sus.
Frelma moment of the two of them grinning at each other and deciding for the rest of the gang there is a mystery to solve. A couple that plots together, stays together. 🩷
Rhino the giant mean looking employee of the stooges. Friend or Foe? To be determined later.
I cannot believe the Scooby Gang is cheerfully and loudly suggesting to the stooges that they FIRE Rhino WHILE HE’S RIGHT THERE.
Rhino communicated in grunts and snarls. Because of course he does.
The giant T-Rex animatronic —aka Tyronne—looks significantly different from its first appearance in this episode.
Shaphne hiding behind Fred again.
Sheriff(?) comes to arrest or escort the Gang away from the premises, but the teens conveniently ignore him to follow Scooby into the T-Rex.
Tyronne’s insides are much bigger than his outsides. Is this an animatronic or a spaceship???
The sheriff is not actually a sheriff, but the Stooges’ manager who goes by Amos Crutch. I should not suspect him to be the bad guy, but his name isn’t helping me assume otherwise.
Dingbat the little bat is adorable.
Curly says Dingbat goes into a frantic frenzy whenever Crutch is nearby. If that isn’t a head’s up for Crutch’s true nature, I don’t know what is.
Velma the first character to suddenly disappear from the gang instead of Daphne?
ANIMATION GOOF: Fred instructs everyone to go find Velma AS SHE IS WALKING BETWEEN HIM AND DAPHNE. Animators, what are you doing?????
Velma’s and my instincts about Crutch are proven right. Hello Trapdoor, my old friend~
Instead of splitting up in a way that includes the Stooge’s antics with the gang’s shenanigans, the animators and writers split them apart the conventional way : Stooges, Fred + Daphne, and Scoob + Shaggy.
Shaggy and Scoob attempt a coin toss to decide whether or not they try searching a creepy saloon: tails they go in, heads they stay out. It’s also a two-headed quarter.
Quarter decides for them via the combined laws of plot development and shenanigary and bounces/rolls into the saloon anyway.
Liking the effects for the cob/spiderwebs.
Coin falls into piano jukebox to play a song right when Shaggy and Scooby catch up to it.
Animators clearly having a ball with the keyboard. Also compliments to sound effects/music department.
Moe dragging Larry dragging Curly to the Cowboy museum.
Native American figurine placed outside of the entrance might actually be Crutch in disguise, or someone else we haven’t met yet, which brings up several questions.
Of course it’s a wax museum.
Animation Goof: Animators/Artists forgot to complete the cowboy hat for the Jessie James wax figure.
‘Wyatt Earp’ makes a move to attack Stooges.
When and where did Freddy get that flask of water?
Walking cactus from Disney’s Los Tres Cabelleros?
Passing-a-container-of-food-or-beverage-to-your-companion-only-for-it-to-be-secretly-intercepted-by-a-super-obvious-random-character-who-consumes-it-all-without-anyone-noticing-and-creating-a-misunderstanding-between-you-and-your-companion gag
Scooby sneezed so hard, he found a conveniently placed secret door to help move the story along.
I assume the orangutan escaped from his cage again.
Falling-into-a-large-container-or-pile-of-flour-and-get-mistaken-for-a-ghost gag
“What’s the matter? Haven’t you seen a FLOUR child before?”
Animation and Art style are not very consistent nor strong compared to the first series, but I will try not to be picky no promises if it gets too wonky for my taste.
Orangutan woke up and chose to be a troll today.
Shaggy tells Scooby not to be afraid of the massive and weird parade float-sized jack-in-the-box. I need a list of what Shaggy deems scary vs not scary.
“Well, I’ll be a monkey’s uncle!” Fun fact: Orangutans are technically great apes.
“This desert reminds me of a woman.” “Why’s that?” “It goes on and on and on…” 😑 (Fraphne if you like beligerent teasing/flirting(?))
Counting-on-footprints-to-get-back-where-you-started-only-OOPS-someone-erased-them gag.
Daphne has the sense to suspect that the random swimming pool that appeared out of nowhere is a mirage or hologram. Fred? Not so much.
Fraphne handholding. Also, Daphne’s common sense doesn’t extend to distrusting random man-sizes cactuses that appeared out of thin air.
Cactus man attempts manhandling but is caught.
“COME BACK AND FIGHT LIKE A MAN YOU VEGETABLE!” Fun fact: Cacti are apparently both a vegetable and a fruit (according to this site: https://wraxly.com/is-cactus-a-vegetable/#:~:text=However%2C%20a%20question%20often%20pops,plant%20in%20the%20world%2C%20Cactaceae. )
Finally we see Velma. She fell into the mines.
Three stooges nearby, as apparently are Fred + Daphne and Scoob + Shaggy. Since when did the latter four reunite?
Suspicious Indian Chief Figure drawn differently than earlier.
Stooges flee into the mine, and I am confused if the random black scenes are intentional or if the source I’m using to watch the episodes had a faulty upload.
Shaphne standing together as the Gang sans Velma try to figure out the source of the noise.
Crutch and Rhino supposedly in saloon bc ShaFrephne and Scooby see their silhouettes through the window. Color me suspicious.
What was the point of reuniting the four of them only to have Fred + Daphne fall through a trapdoor mere moments later?
Are the antagonists just the townspeople who want the Stooges and their contraptions gone???
“Scoob, have you flipped your fur wig?!”
Fred and Daphne reunited with/found Velma by landing on top of her back. Velma is the strongest confirmed again?
Shaggy’s response to finding out that the Gunslinger from Wax Museum is actually a robot? “The fastest short circuit in the West.”
Animation Goof: Moe’s voice commands one of the other stooges to put the brakes on the mining cart they are stuck in, Larry’s voice agrees, and Curly’s voice comes out of MOE as HE puts the brakes on.
Three Stooges reunite with Fred+Daph+Velma
Glowy special effects are glowy.
The power of Velma’s sneeze makes a rockslide in the mines.
“We’ll be [stuck in] here forever!” Moe: There’s no such thing as forever.” “There isn’t?” “No, just eternity. 🤪”
Frelma moment of Velma hugging Freddy from behind! (At least that’s what it looks like from her hand placement on his waist.)
The paint stokes on the background look really messy in some places.
Shaggy forgot to tone down his strength and accidentally launches the trapped Scooby from a well all the way to the mechanical T-Rex.
Okay why are Fraphlma being so weird and bobbing up and down while the Stooges do all of the hard work of digging a way out of the mine tunnel?
“Oh Shag!…Can you hear me?…” “🤨? I must be dreaming. That sounds like Fred.” “Shag?…Scooby Doo?…Can you hear me?…” “😳!THAT’S DAPHNE’S VOICE!! COME ON!!!” Look, how am I not supposed to take this moment as Shaphne when Shaggy hears Fred’s voice calling out to him from who knows where and assumes he’s only imagining it, only to come RUNNING when he recognizes Daphne’s voice calling?!
Animation or Editing Goof: The area around Fred’s mouth sure is glitchy.
I guess it’s possible for three grown short guys + three taller teenagers to stack three mining carts on top of each other and not fall as they stand in the top one. I still call shenanigans.
“Don’t move!” As he and Scooby try to find a way to help them out of the cave in. Moe: “ ‘Don’t move?’ Where does he think we’re going???”
Animation Goof: Shaggy accidentally reminds me he can do ventriloquism because he’s talking without opening his mouth for no reason.
Shaggy does the smart thing and attempts to go to the seemingly valid authority adult figures in town for help. Unfortunately, my suspicions are confirmed that the Crutch and Rhino figures we saw earlier in the Saloon are dummies (and I mean that in a non-insulting way; the figures are literally dummies.)
Animation Goof: Scoob’s finger flick powerful enough to knock one of the dummies over despite not touching it.
Unnecessary filler slapstick despite the stakes.
Animation Goof: Sudden shift in background implies Scoob and Shaggy are now outside despite no movement, no transition, and holding the same conversation without a break.
More unnecessary shenanigans. “Cut that out! You’re supposed to be thinking of a way to rescue Velma!” Weird editing that accidentally eliminated the rest of the party in need, or Shelma moment?
After filler moments of Shaggy pressuring Scooby to come up with a rescue plan, Scooby’s suggestion via charades to use Tyrone the T-Rex to dig the others out is the one Shaggy claims. #friendshipgoals everybody.
At least he gives Scooby the credit.
MOAR filler shenanigans, everybody. Tbf, neither of them know how to properly man a mechanical T-Rex. At least we see a figure-skating T-Rex.
Because the Stooges are the Stooges, only they get the honor of being plucked out of the dug whole by the T-Rex like a mother cat or dog picking up her litter.
We see non mannequin/robot versions of the Native American Chief and the Gunslinger. They look like they’re crooks. Was any hint of thieving foreshadowed earlier? I don’t think so.
Also, “Those darn kids…” instead of “You meddling kids!” 😑
Daphne holding onto Fred’s arm again in case we forgot we’re supposed to ship Fraphne or that she’s the damsel in distress.
Giant bat. Because oh yeah. That was a thing earlier from the beginning of this episode.
Artists and/or Writers of this episode. We already know you want us to see Fraphne and that the conventionally pretty girl is supposed to be clinging to the conventionally handsome guy of the group in fright/apprehension whenever ANYTHING happens.
Unfortunately for everyone, I watched these episodes from the very beginning, and seeing how Daphne was initially more plucky + her maybe accidental chemistry with Shaggy and Velma’s accidental chemistry with Fred made me biased 🤡
Broken T-Rex.
Grammar Error: Why does my keyboard think I’m typing T-Rez whenever I try typing T-Rex?
Animation Goof: T-Rex suddenly a lot smaller next to the stooges.
Indian Chief figure that was drawn differently at one point is explained via projector conveniently found by Stooges.
T-Rex is working again.
Is the guy dressed up like the Chief seriously named Geronimo?
Shaggy and Scooby drop an avalanche of rocks onto the Batmobile the antagonists’s getaway Bat car, so the bad guys are stopped via almost manslaughter. Yay?
Also, they drop them from who knows how many stories high. This makes them crash through the ceiling of the jail. Wowzers.
“It’s Crutch and Rhino!” He says as he watches the above unfold from a distance.
Also, the Gunslinger’s angular face is now changed to Crutch’s doughy one (and yes, the real gunslinger looked like the robot one up until the “unmasking”), and Native American’s skin is now as pale as Rhino’s.
The bad guys’ motivation was that somehow there was now uranium in this town. If Uranium was a mentioned plot point in this episode, it completely flew over my head.
Dingbat is now a girl all of a sudden?
Also she apparently detected the Uranium dust on Crutch and that’s why she acted weird, including when Curly was suddenly glowing.
I still prefer my original theory that the antagonists were the townspeople who didn’t like the Stooges contraptions and attempts to make an amusement park/zoo as opposed to the actual antagonists and their motivations, but the Stooges’ completed park/zoo does look fun and cute!
Look, the real sheriff!
Shaggy and Scooby are rewarded with Uranium and a superhero sandwich, which they actually share this time (the sandwich, not the uranium!)
Day 26 of no “And I would have gotten away with it too, if it weren’t for you medding kids!”
#shenanigans#scooby doo#scooby doo where are you#scooby dooby doo#the new scooby doo movies#the three stooges#shaggy norville rodgers#norville shaggy rogers#daphne blake#velma dinkley#fred jones#fraphne#shaphne#frelma#shelma
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youtube
Spoilers for one of the endings of the game. Listening to Shou Rin Tou Shogouban, an arrangement album from 2018 that arranges various Treasure video game songs by Nazo2 Unit. This is an arrangement of one of the ending songs from Silhouette Mirage and I couldn't resist adding it to the fmv.
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JJK Week Day 4: Mythology
Prompt by @jujutsukaisenweek
Geto Suguru forms his own pack and pacts. You, an unsuspecting guest, will fit in nicely with them and his plans...
WC: 2.1k
Warnings: Suggestive themes, alcohol
You hate it here, wherever here is.
Try to take stock, you think, through the fog of your surroundings.
What did your senses tell you? Could you even trust them?
But you had nothing, and no one else, to rely on.
Start with sight, any rational minded person's go-to, but it had already failed you. There were only mirages of shadow and scarlet, silhouettes under the strobe lights merging into writhing bodies.
Then taste, the most immediate, and perhaps the thing most responsible for your predicament in the first place. Your tongue's drenched in kerosene, alcohol and arson a match made and struck in the hell of your belly, there's tequila burning raw in your throat. The acid sting of lime doesn't so much ameliorate as distract from the flames licking up your gullet, inferno churning in your gut. Why the shit were you drinking so much anyway? Must've been trying to forget something. Or someone.
Crap, you'd almost been successful, before asking that question.
You shove the image of them from your mind. Focus.
You use your nose next, and wish you didn't. It's an olfactory assault; the heavy headiness of pot and weed, aggressively saline stench of sweat, blended with the nauseatingly sweet odour from some idiot who decided lighting a pumpkin-spice candle was appropriate for the occasion, or would help with the putrid miasma of smells.
Spoiler alert, it didn't.
Your stomach flips, and you want to retch. No, anything but that - pay attention to any other sensation besides the one your skin is shrieking at you.
That left...listening then. Another useless hint. Apart from the odd muffled moan or yell, everything is indistinct and melted into some Avicii wannabe's idea of music. You don't so much hear as feel the gloomy bass beating against your feet through the floorboards, and bouncing off the walls. A dizzying tempo that matches the thump of your heartbeat, or was it the other way around? You don't know, but you resent either conclusion as the pounding reaches your head, an unwelcome rhythm rattling within the confines of your cranium that makes you want to scream - probably no would hear you above this din anyway so why not just let it all out -
"Pardon."
And there's a sound which might as well be physical. A voice you feel pressing deep in your gut, even as it ghosts against the shell of your ear. You don't know who it belongs to, but it's the only clear thing you've heard tonight, a beacon that sets off butterflies in your belly with its swirling whirlpool of ill-advised liquor indulgences. Wings dewy with wine and whiskey and who knows what else you've guzzled this evening, they twitch weakly as they emerge from their cocoons of complacence.
All it takes is a single flap to herald chaos, or to set things in motion.
"You okay?"
Touch - your final clue. Feelers extend feebly, your fingers brush against...fur? Silk? Warmth, in both cases. Only that much is evident.
"You don't look so good, Ms. Red."
"I'm fine."
"Wait here."
Don't leave, is what you don't say as the heat slips from your hand. You don't know how much time passes before something narrow and cold presses back into your palm, icy droplets condensing to drip between your knuckles. You shake your head.
"Can't..."
"What?"
You don't know what sense this is, certainly not one of the compromised five, but you can tell by some shift in the air the stranger has leaned forward, closing the distance between you two, but not coming into contact with any part of your body. Perhaps it's the heat radiating off of them that you feel.
"Can't...don't want anymore to drink."
"It's water."
You wonder if your ears have decided to function again, did you detect a note of kindness in their tone? You've heard stories about nice guys though. Hell, you've lived them. Or survived them, somehow. Barely. So you should know better.
You raise the bottle to illuminate it through some slant of a dim, distant lamp but you're back to square one. Again, your vision is unreliable. The liquid is clear at least, based off its crimson tint, the mood lighting refracting through it. And it doesn't smell much like anything. You know the flavour would be neutral as well - and that was the risk, wasn't it?
"Do you want to head out for some fresh air instead, Ms. Red?" the stranger inquires, picking up on your hesitance. You nod.
"Pass me the bottle for now."
As it slips from your grasp you feel the curl of broad, thick fingers take its place, pulling you along through crowds that were probably too caught up in their own licentious pursuits to hear some intoxicated, vulnerable woman scream - they'd be unable to distinguish it from more mutually agreed upon libidinous cacophonies anyway, or they wouldn't care to make that distinction.
But you're being paranoid, the stranger's expressed nothing except concern and civility. Besides, their grasp seems gentle, even if their nails scrape a little long against your palm.
In mere minutes, you've been lead onto a balcony, escaping the previous haze of the room's atmosphere, and your labyrinthine thoughts. You fill your lungs with the cool night air, before opening your eyes to identify this Ariadne of yours.
Dark tresses frame their face in loose strands, but that's where the similarities end. He cuts an imposing figure, skin looking as if he's been carved from alabaster, with deep set obsidian eyes, regarding you down the flint-edged bridge of his nose, even thinner brows lightly knit together. The almost imperceptible crease to his expression is the only indication that the face isn't made of marble, that it is, in fact, a mortal towering before you.
Or bending slightly over you, as it were.
The man repeats the second thing he had said in your initial encounter.
"Are you okay?"
You nod again, wordlessly. The stranger takes a swig from the bottle, and you gulp at the way the column of his neck arches, a single bead of moisture spills from the corners of his lips, glistening in the moonlight, a pearl rolling its way to settle in the dip of his sternum. You're no longer worried if it genuinely is water, or has turned into wine, or some other substance, you ache to lick this miracle off his clavicle, feel it thrum in your bloodstream.
"See, it's safe."
The reassurance snaps you out of your reverie. Your gaze is drawn to the proffered bottle extended to you between his middle and index fingers. You accept it unthinkingly this time, drinking deeply.
You almost spit it out immediately. What the hell, it's bitter.
Your grip on the bottle tightens as you frantically cast about for a pillar to smash it against, maybe you could wield the jagged end against him before you got too woozy and the drugs got a hold.
"Oh shit sorry, musn't have washed it out properly enough. Was kinda in a rush." The man laughs, and it isn't sinister at all, not like what you were expecting. It sounds...surprisingly sheepish, if you had to warrant a guess.
You transfer your glare from the bottle to him.
"There's residual soap in this?"
"Residual Sapporo," he corrects, and you glance suspiciously at the bottle. The label checks out. Anyway, if his intentions were insidious, you wouldn't detect anything, especially not an alkaline acerbity.
"What do you mean you were in a rush?"
"You looked a little overwhelmed back there, is all."
"I'm just 'whelmed now, thanks," you mutter, grimacing at the trace notes of diluted beer as you take a small sip. Another chuckle, this time at your curious turn of phrase. Was there something in this after all? Why did your face feel hot suddenly?
There's a beat before the stranger says, "Y'know, you don't have to keep scrunching up that pretty face of yours. I could go back inside and get you a proper glass of-"
"No! I need y-" Your recently alcohol addled brain can only stop one thing at once, your mouth or the hand that's already shot out to catch the stranger's sleeve. You see it's already made an executive decision without your input, and you hastily attempt to reverse it.
Your arm drops swiftly back to your side as you mumble, "I just needed the fresh air, like you said."
"Sure you don't want some space with that fresh air?" The stranger says, and you wonder how the sincerity of such a benign offer is apparent, even accompanied with that teasing tone.
You lower your eyes and shake your head.
"As you wish, Ms. Red," he hums.
A twinge of annoyance has your gaze flicking back up to him like a spring loaded switchblade. "Why do you keep calling me that?"
"Isn't that the look you were going for?" His pointer finger gestures up and down in your general direction, his placating smile somehow even more insufferable than his remark.
"I forgot about it."
"Really, with the corset and all? Forgot about it?" he echoes, gaze narrowing as it drops low, tracking your silhouette. You will your chest not to heave and draw further attention; if you were having difficulty breathing, you're definitely attributing to the taut leather loops gathered behind your back - nope, it's not anything else. At all.
"I doubt many people would be forgetting your appearance."
You try not to imagine what vaults he might be locking this memory of you behind, in his personal bank.
"After all," he adds, "Most of the fickle folks here didn't even bother with costumes, despite what it said on the invite."
"Yea, I should have just draped a curtain over myself with two holes."
There's a slight pause, the kind that stretches into infinity between two individuals when one person just realizes what something sounds like, and the other is deeply regretting being born with the capacity for speech.
You expect the stranger's short, sharp exhale to precede some crass remark but instead he simply says, "I suspect that wouldn't have been as flattering a look for you."
Grinning in relief, you retort, "I should leave the flattering to others, huh?"
"Considering everyone else's get up, or lack thereof, they're in no position to judge."
"Oh, they're in scary costumes all right."
"Hm?"
"As STD carriers."
"Oh, guess I found the one person in a position to judge, or be judgy," he smirks.
"Well, your costume's pretty elaborate too, so you can approach the bench. Judge alongside me, it's fun."
"Are you courting me, Ms. Red?"
You roll your eyes at him, hiding a smile as you lift the bottle to your lips again. Strangely, it didn't taste as bitter as before.
"Fine, fine. I'll stop with the nicknames if it irks you so much, but then what should I call you instead?"
You hesitate, having a premonition of the direction this evening is headed in. He didn't really need to know your name, any more than you needed to know his. It's not like either would be getting saved under a phone number. Still, you remember the way your name had last been gasped, a long time ago now, though not long enough. You want to banish that particular memory, maybe by replacing it. So you tell him.
"And what about you, Wolf Boy?" you whisper, taking a step closer to the stranger.
He tuts, and you feel the scrape of his so-called claw beneath your jaw.
"Wolfman," he murmurs, loosening the cape around your shoulders.
"You're being very...convincing, Wolfman," you oblige him with a shudder down your spine that doesn't go unnoticed. You reach a hand up to fondle his pair of incredibly realistic looking, pointed ears, finding them warm and soft to your touch, like any other pet dog's. The stranger stiffens, tips of those ears pricking up before he seems to melt underneath the way you scratch them lightly, a strangled growl reverberating from the depths of his muscular chest, fabric of his shirt already straining against it. And then, you feel something brush by your waist, a black and bushy...tail? It's already winding around your hips. You giggle, wondering at the mechanics and lengths this man's gone to to make his costume so legitimate. You always admired commitment, in any case.
"It's a full moon tonight," you observe, tangling your fingers in the luxuriantly soft fur of his tail. "Does it make for good hunting?"
"You tell me," he murmurs, nuzzling against your nape, inhaling your scent.
"I a-always thought ol' Luna wasn't on the wolf's side. Makes predators too obvious to their prey, no?"
You feel the stranger's smirk track along your throat, quickly followed by the pinch of two canines around your jugular with its staccato pulse of impulse, blindly obeyed.
"By the time they notice, it's often too late."
~~~
A/N: Want more spice? More specters? Vampire besties? Trick, treat or threat? Here's the spooky, sexy sequel to this story, where Suguru introduces you to his supernatural friends...
p.s. That date also coincides with the Kinktober prompt: B I T E
#jujutsu kaisen#jjkweek2021#jjk#getou suguru x you#getou suguru x reader#geto x y/n#geto suguru#geto x you#geto x reader#suguru x you#suguru x reader#suguru smut
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DAZAI X CHUUYA FANFICTION: ONE-SHOT [DREAM]
A/N: Slight BEAST, Stormbringer, and Fifteen LNs spoilers!!
This is also posted in...
Wattpad: https://www.wattpad.com/1127082473-dazai-x-chuuya-fanfictions-one-shots-dream
and
Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/33771124
***
Nakahara Chuuya was robbed of the chance to experience dreaming. What existed beyond his tightly closed eyes was a world of nothingness. He was already used to it. After all, his very life started inside a bluish-black darkness where his shapeless figure had floated aimlessly, devoid of anything belonging to a human.
Two blue worn-out orbs, like that of the color of daybreak, suddenly flung open, their owner’s vision landing on his apartment’s white ceiling. If that day was a normal day, he would probably drown in the sea of nostalgia, mentally hearing his old friend’s senseless shenanigans even before the sun had decided to peek above the eastern horizon. A series of knocks would also follow shortly, that certain person waiting outside inviting him to join a mission (and let Chuuya swim back home afterward)
But that day was definitely not a normal one…
Because Nakahara Chuuya had dreamed of something.
Or at least, that was what it felt like.
He was not even sure if that was a dream. It could pass as a faint mirage, silently disintegrating the more he thought of it. Like an early morning mist, it disappeared before it could even take a proper form. Senseless figures, as illusory as a shadow, became phantoms lurking in his subconscious.
That dream didn’t have any shred of reality anyway. It was not a matter to concern himself into, he thought, trying to assure himself with negligence.
He took the liberty to do his morning rituals. The slanted rays of early morning permeated through the unit’s window, illuminating the dimly lit interior. Chuuya didn’t even bother to flick his lights open. Donning his usual outfit, he took off.
He soon reached the Port Mafia main headquarters. Passing through the hallway, his subordinates bowed a little and offered a small greeting. Some looked with complete admiration, others with imposed kindness but underlying envy. However, he paid no heed as he strode to his office. Slumping on his chair, he forcefully did a mountain of paperwork.
It would be bad for an executive to slack off during working hours, right?
The whole day passed, him completely running out of gas. The dispute between the Port Mafia, Armed Detective Agency, and an American underground organization, the Guild, was still raging on. Fights between the three parties were rampant, countless streets in the city of Yokohama were all bent out of shape. Radial cracks were planted everywhere, utility poles prostrated like bamboos cowering in fear against the wind, and cadavers of men in black suits laid lifeless along the asphalt road stained in blood. It was all to protect the mafia’s main base and distribution channels, the organization’s soul itself.
Shortly after, the abduction of Q led to a big catastrophe. People were inflicted by the kid’s curse, including a myriad of mafia members. Thanks to the Armed Detective Agency’s efforts and Dazai’s No Longer Human, the city was saved temporarily. As long as Q was still in the Guild’s hands, they could still launch a wide-scale attack. The same thing would unfold over and over again like a song played on loop until all sane humans were wiped out. Francis Fitzgerald, the leader of the Guild, would then enjoy his cup of tea while looking below the hell he himself had created.
That was why the esteemed leaders of the agency, Yukichi Fukuzawa, and the mafia, Mori Ougai, held a secret meeting that morning, all to propose an alliance and retrieve Q. The two forged an agreement and everything was settled.
Chuuya, on the other hand, thought that it was rather unsettling.
It was fine as long as it would reduce the number of his people stuffed in cheap caskets and black body bags, but why did he have to work with his ex-partner for that day’s joint operation? The mere thought of it made him want to vomit blood. He could still remember how that fucker toyed with him in the mafia’s underground dungeon. That was an oddly annoying way to celebrate a reunion with your partner if he might add.
And just like that, nightfall came.
The nearby moonlit forest gently danced along with the breeze’s unheard beat. An abandoned warehouse stood still in the middle, time chipping its remaining life away. Green mosses and ivies sprouted on its brick walls, scenery remained unchanged like the day before and even before that.
It was rather an uneventful night.
Until everything was flooded by white lights... all focused on a lone, slender brunet.
An ambush. As predicted by the Guild’s skilled tactician.
But the event that unfolded next was definitely not included in the tactician’s report.
A huge chunk of rock had fallen from the sky like a meteorite. Particles of dust were sent flying, obstructing the Guild frontline's sight. A small figure slowly walked near ground zero as if he was taking a carefree stroll in a crowded park. Guns were aimed at the unfazed newcomer. His eyes were only looking straight ahead, trying to find something - someone - midst his murky vision.
The floating dust particles soon created a dim contour of a tall man.
Chuuya’s piercing orbs were gazing straightly at the figure, but it was not looking at anything in particular. He was perceiving something different, something coming from the depths of his mind.
Like a bubble rising in a stream, his dream that morning had started to resurface.
Dazai, in that eccentric dream, was clad in a long, black trench coat with a knee-length, untied maroon scarf hanging over his shoulders. Dazai’s attire had reminded Chuuya of that of the boss. He was slumping, face down, near the Port Mafia’s building. One would think that he already fell asleep in the middle of the road or was waiting for a car to crush his body and die on the spot (which sounded so extremely painful so he probably wouldn’t do it).
He didn’t need a car to finish himself off anyway.
His bandages covering his left eye were dyed in dark red, his maroon scarf soaked in blood the same color as it. Grey matters were scattered along the pavement. Like a still painting, Dazai laid in the middle of his own pool of blood, the wind gently caressing his pale face.
He was already gone.
He had committed suicide.
As that dream continued to dissipate, the silhouette’s details got clearer and clearer. It could be compared to that one scene of Plato’s The Allegory of the Cave as a prisoner had started to view the world in a deeper sense of being.
That beige trench coat.
That unkempt brown hair.
That body covered in bandages.
That asshole Dazai. Alive and kicking.
Chuuya couldn’t help but heave a sigh, his lips slowly curving to a small smile. He soon reverted it back to its proper place after making their foes kiss the forest ground with gravity.
Facing Dazai, he took a deep breath, preparing himself to launch the first phase of their usual banter.
“Let me set one thing straight. Once I’m done taking out the trash, you’re next.”
- END -
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Just A Babysitter. (Part Eight.)
The Lost Boys x reader
Warnings: mentions of death, blood imagery, mentions of hallucinations,
Context: No spoilers this time ;))
A/N: This is definetly the last part of the story, so I'm sorry it's so short, but thank you for showing so much support in regards to it, I never expected it to do so well.😊💛
Part One , Part Two , Part Three , Part Four , Part Five , Part Six , Part Seven
Masterlist
For once, I manage to sleep, uninterrupted, for the entire day, my body trying its best to recuperate after the events of the day before, grief still rampant in my subconscience, though I don't dream at all, my head oddly empty. When I finally come to again, the air around me is freezing, goosebumps rising along my exposed skin as I sit upright, stretching out my cramping muscles as I go, my neck paining me from the awkward position I fell asleep in. It doesn't take long for the loneliness to set in again, quickly making itself known to me as quickly as possible, drawing a sigh of despair from me, my head aching from the amount of crying I did the night before, my body intensely dehydrated.
Deciding to get something to drink, I pull myself upright and walk back into the bedroom, not bothering to look back at the ashy remains that should have gathered on the cold, hard ground, my eyes swiftly adjusting to the darkened interior of my room as I go to the bed. On my way in, I cast my eyes to the side, where I left David's corpse, only to halt in my step when I notice the lack of a shadowy shape. It's gone.
Freezing in place, I stare at the spot, incredulous and confused, trying to think up a solution as to the missing vampire; did Michael and Star come back in the day to properly dispose of the bodies? No, they would've woken me up, and they would've taken the fourth, which I noticed is still in the main room. There is nothing in its place to signify it was ever there, no blood stain on the floor, no dirt where his boots trailed across the floor when I dragged him over, nothing. In confusion, I edge over to the spot, eyeing it suspiciously, my head spinning in its grieving state, the water forgotten as I leave the room, suddenly feeling unsafe alone in the cave. As I enter the main room again, however, I come to a halt, noticing that the braziers have been lit again.
Fear starts to creep into my mind, my muscles tensing as I move, ever so slowly, back into the large room, my eyes flicking all over the place to gauge where the intruder is, before coming to rest on the spot where there should be two piles of ash, only to see that the floor is completely ash-free. It's only when I hear a footstep behind me that I straighten, body ready to fight if it has to. I turn on my heel, my eyes swiftly finding the shadowy silhouettes of four people, each of which have heart-wrenchingly familiar frames. I don't say anything until they come into the light, at which point my heart skips a beat, my breath hitching in pain as I take in the people standing there, believing my brain is now hallucinating.
There, in all their vampiric glory, are David, Dwayne, Marko and Paul, faces lined with worry and concern, eyes all fixed on me.
I don't know what to think. A part of me, a minuscule part of me, hopes that this is real, that they're really standing there, waiting for me to react, but a larger, more rational part is telling me that I'm hallucinating, that the lack of water I've drunk is finally getting to my head, and that I'm in denial. My heartbeat is pounding in my ears, the sound deafening as the silence in the room drags on, my eyes flicking between them, refusing to believe that they're actually there, waiting for them to disappear and leave me alone with their vanishing bodies. I reach up and rub my eyes, trying to blink away the mirages in my vision, knowing I'm only seeing what I want to see.
"Come on, say something (Y/n)." The image of Paul speaks to me, blue eyes wide and fearful for some reason, the tall, blonde vampire watching me for a reaction.
I shake my head, unwilling to give in to the images in my head, trying to dislodge their shapes from reality.
"Please, (Y/n). Tell us what you're thinking, or how you're feeling, just say anything!" Marko pleads, biting his thumb nervously. I almost laugh at how accurately my mind remembers them and their mannerisms, but I still stay quiet.
Turning around, I stare at the wall, ignoring them as much as I can, trying not to cry again, taking very deep breaths to calm myself and my racing heart, anger flaring up in me when one of them speaks again.
"(Y/n)? Plea-" It's Paul again, but I don't let him finish, clapping my hands to my ears to block out the sounds.
"Shut up! Get out of my head! Leave me alone!" I snap at myself, slapping myself across the face in an attempt to bring myself back to sanity.
"What're you doing?! Stop, we're right here!" Marko's voice interrupts my muttering again, only to be cut off by my volatile tone once more.
"No, you're not! You're just hallucinations, you're not real! You aren't really there! Leave me alone!"
There is silence behind me, the quiet making me feel slightly relieved, believing the images to be gone, until I feel an icy hand placed on my shoulder, the sensation almost too real to be something my mind has conjured up. Under the touch, I stiffen, my muscles tensing in fear, half expecting it to belong to some intruder who has heard me shouting to myself, so I'm almost surprised to find David stepping around to the front of me, icy blue eyes scrutinizing my facial expressions.
Instantly, I start to writhe in his grip, crying out when he secures me in place with his other hand, the emotion finally taking over as tears of grief resurface, spilling over my cheeks again, my mind still fighting to stay sane.
"(Y/n), calm down! We're real, we're actually here! Look, you can feel me, can't you? You can feel this," The blonde vampire soothes me, lifting one hand to cup my face, the frigid temperature of his skin as familiar to me as anything, "And this."
He finishes by pulling me into an embrace, crushing my body into his own, wrapping his arms around my shaking form as I cry into him, finally believing that this is really happening, tears of relief replacing the distraught ones from before, disbelief and happiness rampant in my mind. My hands clutch at his shirt and jacket, trying to feel how alive and real he is, feeling the taut muscles under his clothes and breathing in the smell that I've always loved about him. Three other pairs of arms wrap around me, their bodies pressing into mine as I continue to sob in happiness, their presences reassuring me, fending off the overwhelming loneliness and isolation that had previously set in, each of them catching me as my knees give out. A sudden wave of nausea sweeps through me, my body still trying to recover from the dehydration and shock, black spots dancing across my vision as I struggle to stay conscious, physically focusing on my breathing to make sure I don't hyperventilate. David pulls away, clearly having heard my suddenly heavy breathing, worry etched into his face.
"Come on, kitten, let's get you something to drink." He murmurs to me, gesturing to Marko to go to my room where he knows I have some water, quickly asking Paul and Dwayne to clear my armchair. Instantly, the three vampires rush to do their jobs, David swiftly picking me up, cradling me against his chest as he watches me, blue eyes soft and caring.
I soon find myself sat in my armchair with the neck of my bottle of water pressed to my lips, cool water spilling onto my tongue as Marko feeds it to me, a small smile on his face, the others watching me anxiously, Paul's leg bouncing nervously as it always does when he's unsure of something. As soon as I regain my composure, I look them all over, taking note of how untouched they appear, as if the last two nights never happened.
"How the hell are you three still alive?" I manage to get out, my voice hoarse from screaming.
"I used mind tricks to think they killed us all." David confirms, looking slightly smug with himself, as well as guilty, knowing he put me through a lot of pain.
"Why?" I inquire, frowning slightly.
"What do you mean, why?"
"Well, why did you convince them that you were dead? Why not just kill them?" I clarify, taking another sip of water.
"Because we need them to lower their guard properly before we take them on for real. Half-vampires can be more dangerous than us, simply because they haven't learnt to control their new strength. We also just wanted to be dramatic." The platinum blonde explains, wincing when I spit out the water in my mouth.
"You did all that just to be dramatic?!" I exclaim, annoyed at this confession.
"...Maybe." He says quietly, before defending himself again, "Mindtricking them was the only thing I could come up with when they first showed up. We heard the loud noise from the main room and only just managed to get out in time. We didn't want to risk the kids looking harder for us, so I messed with their heads to get them off our backs."
I think this through, seeing his logic but still upset over one thing.
"Ok, so why did you have to do the same to me? And who the hell is that?" I question, gesturing to the shrivelled body a little way away.
This time, Dwayne interjects, giving me an apologetic look even as the others do the same.
"That's Max, the head vampire, their original target. And as for your first question, your reaction had to be real for them to believe we were really dead, and they did. They stayed back for a bit to see if you would leave the cave. Hearing you really broke our hearts, it was terrible." The brunette admits, clenching his jaw at the memory.
"Yeah, I couldn't stand it." Marko agrees, biting his thumb again.
"We are never leaving you again so that we never have to hear those horrible sounds again." Paul chips in, coming over to me so that he can drape his lanky frame over the back of the armchair, his hair tickling my neck.
"Swear to me." My voice is decisive, needing that reassurance from them, needing to be sure that I'll never be alone again.
"We swear." David assures me, the others adding their agreements to his.
"Thank you." I say to them all, smiling at the four vampires, "What now?"
"Well, now that you know we're still alive and kicking, we can go give Michael and his friends a little surprise." Marko smirks, David chuckling at the younger vampire's eagerness.
"Of course, but we have a proposition for you first." The leader says, looking me in the eye.
"What is it?" I frown at his words, a little confused.
"We were wondering if you'd like to join us properly."
I'm silent for a minute, shocked by what he's offering, surprised that he thinks I'm ready.
"As a vampire?" The four of them nod, Paul starting to rub soothing circles into my skin, "Are you sure?"
"Of course we are. We think you'd make a great vampire, and you've never been too opposed to the idea either." Paul reasons, his hands continuing their motions.
"Well in that case, sure, I'll do it. It'll make a great surprise for them." I smirk, looking around at them as Marko hands me the jewelled bottle I know so well.
"Bottoms up."
*
The loud noises of the Boardwalk are harsh in my newly sensitive ears, but I manage to keep myself under control for the most part, even as the strong smells assault my nose, the bodies around me driving me insane. From my position leaning against my motorcycle, I watch the crowd, as if waiting for someone to appear, even though I can tell exactly who is approaching me just from the voice that accompanies them.
"(Y/n)? What're you doing here?" Michael asks, sounding confused and surprised at my appearance.
Clenching my jaw, I look over at him, keeping my expression neutral as I take in the brunette coming towards me, Star holding onto his arm as she walks with him, her own arm around the shoulders of Laddie, who looks happy to see me. As he nears, the young boy runs over and wraps his arms around my midriff, holding me tightly.
"I'm waiting for my friends." I respond coolly, returning Laddie's embrace gladly, as I know it'll likely be the last time it ever happens.
"Your friends? Who?" Star queries, sounding confused, a frown on her face.
"Oh, you know them very well." I promise her, looking over to my right, where I've just heard David and the boys emerge from the comic shop, Paul and Marko pushing each other around as they always do, "They've arrived, I'd better go. I'll see you around." I smirk, ruffling Laddie's hair as I go, pushing off my motorcycle and going to leave them, only to be stopped by a hand on my arm.
"Are you alright, (Y/n)?" Michael checks with me, expression confused by my attitude.
I turn back to him with a grin.
"Absolutely." I flash my eyes at him, relishing in the sudden fear in their faces before I leave them, joining the boys with a huge grin, laughing with them.
"This will be fun." David murmurs to me, wrapping an arm around my waist as he presses a kiss to the side of my head, the others moving in to give me a peck on the cheek.
"Oh, it will be. Let's mess with them some more." I suggest, giggling with them as we move off into the crowd, ready to torment the Emersons for the rest of the night.
#joel schumacher#the lost boys#vampire#david(thelostboys)#paul(the lost boys)#dwayne(the lost boys)#kiefer sutherland#marko(the lost boys)#santa carla#star(the lost boys)#complete
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The character(s) Silhouette/Mirage from my game Gentille Alouette
-story below (spoiler but I dont think anyone here will actually play the game that far anyway)
Silhouette is an air headed dreamer who believes in fairies and wizards wants to be a magician in the wonderland circus. Her twin sister Mirage, while realistic and scientific, loves her sister and wants her dream to come true. Silhouette's main magic act is teleporting which she actually does by switching places with her twin sister who then parades around AS Silhouette until they switch again. No one in the circus knows that Mirage even exists, but it's a small price to pay for her sister's happiness.
#silhouette mirage#silhouette#mirage#Gentille Alouette#huyosumi#jester#mask#OBVIOUS refrence to underrated game SILHOUETTE MIRAGE#and also NiGHTS
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that one loading screencap of armageddon in the intro cutscene is like if pacman had a wig—wait, hold the phone, shyna is called sinna neutlarva sinner in the japanese ending cutscene credits!
@canidaedreams64
it's always the credits sequences that come up behind you with a baseball bat
still have no idea where that name comes from, though. how does one get "sinna neutlarva sinner" from "shaina nera shaina"? sinna neutlarva sinner would probably be "shinna neutorāba shinnā" in japanese—still notably different...,,,?
#silhouette mirage#silhouette mirage spoilers#???#romanisations of the characters' names are not given in the japanese manual; only the guidebook! so this was easily missed
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Don’t Do Anything Stupid
Fandom: SPN
whump/ speculative fic based on spoilers/ pre-season 14 / 2k / Gen / PG-13
Characters: Castiel, Michael, Dean, Jack (backgound Sam, Mary, Bobby)
Warnings: aftermath of violence
Summary: “DO IT,” Castiel commanded, and Jack gulped past the knot in his throat, slammed his bloodied hand on the banishing sigil, and activated it.
He barely caught a glimpse of Michael’s widening eyes before the archangel was forcibly ejected from the bunker, dragging Castiel right along with him.
“DO IT,” Castiel commanded, and Jack gulped past the knot in his throat, slammed his bloodied hand on the banishing sigil, and activated it.
He barely caught a glimpse of Michael’s widening eyes before the archangel was forcibly ejected from the bunker, dragging Castiel right along with him.
When the flash from the spell faded out, Jack was surrounded only by the red emergency lights and the dull, anxious rumbling of the alarm. He looked down at his leg, splayed out in front of him, broken and twisted. It hurt, more than stabbing used to hurt him, but he suspected still less than what it would feel to a full human. He had managed to crawl all the way to the wall with it, but now he felt the strong desire to be helped and comforted, and not move anymore.
“Sam?” he called, his voice quivering. He could barely make out a hand and an arm sticking out from underneath a toppled bookcase, across the room. He got no reply.
“M-Mary?” he tried, craning his neck to look through the remnants of the door. “Bobby?”
Nobody answered him.
The alarm kept going.
Jack sniffed. Tears were starting to stream down his eyes, fat and salty. “Anyone?” he whispered, hugging himself, and wishing he could just make things move like he used to.
“Castiel,” he finally prayed, “please come back; I need you.”
They splash-landed in the northern Atlantic, tangled together like a poisonous vine and an ancient stone, startling a pod of whales. The large animals scattered, surprisingly agile for their volume. If Michael needed to conquer the depth of the oceans, he’d consider taking one of them as his vessel.
Human forms were so woefully inept for underwater battles. He felt even more constrained and limited than usual, and the cold, wet clothes actively bothered him.
He shook himself free of the seraph and took flight, heading back to the continental mass of northern America. He could have killed him, but it felt more satisfying to let that wingless, annoying pest find his way back with his human limbs.
Only, as he made a graceful touch down in a luscious field of wheat, he realized Castiel had managed to somehow cling to him, enough to ride his wake and tumble down only a few feet away, sowing a deep trench in the earth and spoiling the majestic landscape. Typical.
Now thoroughly irritated, he advanced on this version of his brother and grabbed him by the neck, yanking him up to his eye level.
Michael didn’t consider himself particularly squeamish, or sentimental, or any of that human nonsense, but he did find it uncomfortable to come face to face with just how low an angel could fall. If the broken creature in front of him could still be called an angel.
He wasn’t, he considered, that different from the real Castiel, at least as far as damage could be assessed, but of course Castiel had endured his own twisting and mangling to become a better soldier, while this sorry excuse of an imitation had gone completely in the other direction.
The merciful thing would have been to snap his fingers and incinerate him on the spot. And in the midst of warfare that’s exactly what he would have done. But his purpose now was intelligence-gathering, and it occurred to him that he wouldn’t find any another specimen quite like this. His circumstances were not just rare, but unique, and perhaps he could still do some good as a topic of study.
This, though, meant finding a way to stop him from pestering Michael until he was ready to open the rift again and call his army and his specialists.
The pathetic little abomination regarded him coolly from his one functioning eye, the other swollen shut and bloodied. He didn’t seem to have the energy to shed the icy water from his vessel, or the mud he’d rolled into.
Disgusting. Michael wondered if this emotion was what humans called ‘gagging’.
“I know he’s dead,” he growled, “he was dead the moment you stepped inside. All I ask is that you release his soul. You have the body. Let him rest in Heaven, he’s earned it.”
Michael chuckled. He had to admit, if only to himself, that he was surprised.
“That’s all? Is that why you’ve been dogging my every step? Just to get rid of Dean Winchester’s soul?”
“To free him,” Castiel countered firmly. “I know what it means for a human soul to be trapped with an angel…”
“Careful.” He did want to let him live, but his patience had limits, and he couldn’t outright ignore blasphemy.
“Let him go, Michael,” he whispered, and something deep inside him twinged.
Michael blinked. “If that’s all you’re asking, you’re wasting your time, “ he explained, not unkindly. “I already sent Dean Winchester to his own pocket of Heaven the moment I took over. I’m more considerate of my vessels than some of my brothers.”
Castiel narrowed his eye. “That’s… not possible.”
“Fine,” he sighed. “I’ll show you.”
The place wasn’t much different, only somehow more. A wide field of high grass bathed in the golden light of the fading sun. A cabin, in the middle, and on the outskirts a deep green forest. Snow-capped mountains on the horizon. A peaceful lake, with a wooden pier that went all the way up to the cabin’s porch.
And on the pier, looking resplendent in his carefully tailored surroundings, Dean Winchester was walking home with an empty beer cooler and four freshly caught trouts.
“There he is,” Michael pointed out unnecessarily. Castiel had immediately and unerringly found his target the moment their surroundings had coalesced around them, his very atoms vibrating and straining in that direction. “Careful,” Michael warned again, actually starting to pity the poor wretch. “I didn’t say you could talk to him.”
They watched silently from afar as Dean reached his porch, and was greeted by his mother, who came out to relieve him of the fish and to warn him to shower before dinner. Next the nephilim rounded the house with an armful of wood, chattering excitedly about managing the barbeque on his own. And finally Sam Winchester came out with two cold, sweating beers. He handed one to his brother, they toasted, and then they stood for a while in silence, looking out at the glorious landscape.
Michael felt just a touch of pride at the idyllic scene.
“Satisfied?”
The seraph hunched under his grip, but then he managed to surprise Michael once again.
Castiel gave him a sideways look and chuckled darkly. “This isn’t Heaven,” he declared.
“How-?” Michael spluttered, not bothering to deny it.
“This isn’t a memory, it never happened.”
“What does it matter, and how would you even know?”
“In your universe things may be different, but in ours Heaven is strictly an endless repeat of good memories… and I know all about Dean. You can’t fool me.”
Michael scowled. So much for being magnanimous.
“But thanks for taking me this close,” Castiel smirked, and stuffed something in his breast pocket.
For the second time in as many hours, Michael was unceremoniously yanked away from the place he meant to be, but this time he was on his own.
Furious, he took a moment to gather himself and inspect the content of his pocket.
A tightly knotted pouch. Witchcraft. Michael swore bombastically in Enochian. Was there no low the treacherous little mongrel wouldn’t sink to? Oh, but he’d make him pay.
He concentrated, and an anemic tendril of smoke snaked out of the pouch.
Michael huffed. It might take him a while, but he’d make him pay dearly.
One minute Dean was sipping his beer and the next it crumpled into dust in his hand. Everything and everyone around him wavered and faded away like a mirage, leaving behind only dunes of grey, scorched sand. Even the sound had ceased to be, like vacuum in outer space.
What the… he thought, slapping his hand to the small of his back, wishing he had a weapon.
He spun around, looking everywhere, but the landscape spun with him, and the wind picked up, spitting soil in his face.
Still, some form of nameless instinct told him something was approaching. He squinted and tried to shield his face as best as he could, straining his eyes.
There.
A darker point, a silhouette, a figure right in front of him. He couldn’t make out any features, but he knew.
Cas! he tried calling, but the silence wouldn’t budge. He broke out into a jog, a clumsy parody of a run on the uneven ground, which sucked at his feet and held him fast, making him as slow as a car on an empty tank.
Cas was fighting his damnest to reach him as well. Dean could see him now, beaten half to hell, urgently trying to shout something. But Dean couldn’t hear him, and he couldn’t read his lips.
They were nearly there. Dean reached out his hand, and he saw Castiel do the same. A couple of inches and their fingertips would have touched. Cas mouthed the only word Dean understood: No!, and suddenly the whole world seemingly rebooted.
Dean was on his perfect porch again, with his perfectly cold beer, looking out at his perfectly peaceful lake.
Castiel was standing next to him, smiling benevolently. He looked healthy, powerful, put together. Windswept and tanned, but then he used to always look like that at his most angelic.
“Hello, Dean.”
“Cas! What the hell?”
“My apologies. I wanted to visit you, but I fear my presence-“
“Is ‘disruptive’, yeah, you’ve said before.” Dean took a swig of his beer. It was the exact kind of tangy that he preferred. He had to make an effort to choke it down with a neutral face. “Are you staying for dinner?”
Castiel looked at him fondly, like a teacher would a slow but hardworking child. “I can’t. I have a rather delicate matter I have to attend to. I just wanted to let you know that I’ve been to see your brother and your mother, and I found them both well. He’s entering his second semester of law school with an impressive score, for a working student. And she is looking for a house with Bobby Singer. I am under the impression that they are willing to settle down together.”
Dean nodded. “Second semester, huh? Wow, has it already been that long?”
“Time flows differently in Heaven. You needn’t trouble yourself with it, anyway. Human lifespans are so brief, especially seen from here. Soon enough they’ll outlive theirs, and join you here. Then you’ll be together forever.”
“Creepy, Castiel. Creepy.” Dean put down his beer, no longer able to pretend to enjoy it. “And Jack?”
For the briefest of moments, Castiel’s serene smile wavered, but he rallied like a champ. “Hunting, doing much good to honor your memory. Though since you sacrificed yourself to save the world, hunter jobs have gotten scarce and far in between. I’m afraid he might eventually drop out of them altogether.”
“No, that would be good. Nothing good comes from a kid hunting.”
“He’s not-“ Castiel pulled his smile back up. “You needn’t worry about him. He’s still basically unkillable.”
“Oh, good,” Dean quipped, unable to help himself. Before Castiel could fully narrow his eyes, he hurried on: “it was good to see you, buddy. Thanks for stopping by. Don’t be a stranger, eh?”
Castiel smiled beatifically again, and inclined his head. “I come as often as I can, Dean, but this isn’t my place. It’s meant for humans, not angels. Besides, don’t you already have all the company you need?”
From behind the windows, Dean could make out Sam, Mary and Jack’s faces, peering out and waiting for their cue.
Dean nodded, grinning wide with all his teeth. “Yep, I have everything I could ever want here. That’s what paradise is for, isn’t it?”
“Indeed it is, Dean Winchester. Indeed it is.” Castiel clapped him on his right shoulder, and vanished with a faint sound of flapping wings.
Sam, Mary and Jack walked out, watching him silently and unblinkingly.
Dean gulped, and quickly walked out on the pier on his own. They never followed him there, unless he took them. The edge on the lake was the only place he could be alone.
When he reached it he sat down, gripping the worn wood until his hands stopped shaking.
The others remained at the house. Dean could hear them busying themselves with the barbeque. The fish already smelled delicious.
Keeping his back ramrod-straight, he hooked his foot on a piece of string hanging down into the water, brought it up to his hand, and then pulled the mason jar attached to it from under the murky lake.
There was a journal inside, and a pen. Dean opened it and stared at the first page.
DEAD.
Slowly, he put a question mark next to it.
On the next page there was Djinn?
He added another strikethrough.
Under it there was how much time? Hours Days Weeks
He crossed out Weeks and wrote Months?
And on the third page:
Where is the real Cas?
He underlined ‘real’, and added searching, and also in danger?
He closed his eyes and exhaled. He didn’t dare pray, in case the fake Castiel heard him, but he turned to the last page and wrote: don’t do anything stupid.
Don’t do anything stupid.
Yeah. If only.
#spn fic#My fic#dean winchester#castiel#Jack Kline#dean and cas#michael!dean#pre-season 14#h/c#whump
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Not stretch panic related but treasure related.
Just finished watching a full playthrough of silhouette mirage and omg it was so good..... I almost cried at the ending! (I suppose it was the true ending..) I thought the alternate endings would be really depressing but they were so full of hope! I loved the animated endings too! I really wanna go re-listen to the credits theme...
I loved all the characters, story and style, ahhh so amazing. It's totally become one of my fave games recently!! My only gripe is that literally every character (spoilers) except shyna dies.. but that's what happy ending aus are for!
Sorry for the ramble! I'm on such a happy high!! ^^
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Price of Rebirth
Story for my JC, Suzuka Hamasaki. Takes place pre-Voss; major spoilers ahead.
There was no reason to believe that Senator Tobas Grell was anything but healthy. His chest moved steadily in time with his breaths. His eyes were open, blinked regularly. His body showed no sign of fever or malaise. And his skin remained a healthy shade of white common for the Sarkhai.
But he was gone, somehow, still, after days away from the hands of that sith Lord Stark. No matter what I tried to do, no manner of medicine or meditation or healing powers of the Force, I couldn’t make him regain his mind. I reached and reached as far as I could, and even farther still to try and retrieve his sense of self, but though I thought I could see it deeper down in the depths of his own mind, it was retreated, and cold. I could not even touch it.
I pulled out of my focus on a seat by the side of my own bed, where Senator Grell laid. He looked the same, no worse yet no better. He remained plump and vivid as ever, due to the drip and the IV strapped to his arm that Tharan had wheeled in from the medical bay. His body wasn’t deteriorating, no - but I could sense him disappearing and fading. A healthy body yet a broken mind, further broken by its own comatose.
“He doesn’t look any better.”
I lifted my gaze to the doorway. Nadia stood there, clutching at her sleeves and biting at her lower lip. I shook my head.
“I’m doing everything I can, Nadia.”
“There has to be more! Anything! Maybe I- if my powers-!” she fisted her hands tighter in her own robes, so much so I worried that they might rip. Ferocious tears bloomed in her eyes; she blotted at them with her sleeves. I raised a hand to try and give her a gentle push, motivation to leave, but I could feel her resist. I could see the look in her eyes turn even angrier.
“You’re trying to push me away, Master Suzuka!”
“There’s nothing you can do right now, Nadia. I need time.”
“We don’t have time! We need my father back! I need my father back!” she stomped her foot, hard enough for the floor to suddenly dent. She glowed with the Force. It was clear she wouldn’t leave of her own volition - so I reached out with my mind, and found Alauni’s.
Nadia is upset. I need you to take her away.
Nadia glared at me, and I gave her an even stare in return. Silence prevailws among the sound of the engine and the general noise of the ship. Yet, I heard footsteps approach, and watch a pale green hand touch Nadia’s shoulder.
“Nadia, we need you in the conference room. There are certain treaties you should overlook.”
Nadia whirled on her heel and spat in Alauni’s face. “I don’t want to go over treaties-!”
“Go with her, Nadia. There’s nothing you can do here.”
“I’m not leaving! I’m not leaving my father’s side while he’s-!” Nadia stopped with her lower lip trembling. I heard heavier footsteps from outside. I watched as scaled arms grabbed Nadia, and Nadia shrieked. “NO! PUT ME DOWN, QYZEN! FATHER!!”
I listened to the footsteps receding, along with the sounds of Nadia’s screams, down the corridor and away. I sighed. Alauni peeked her head in the doorway, and gave me a look.
“She’s still grieving, Barsen’thor.”
“She still hadn’t accepted that she may have to be the Senator now.”
We gave each other an even look. Alauni nodded, and disappeared out the door. The door phased shut behind her. Though for as at-odds as we had been when we first met, I thanked, we’d become better acquainted, enough so that she respected my privacy. For that, I was grateful.
I got up from my chair and paced.
I need a solution. Now.
Though it was clear that Tobas Grell was remaining, in some amount, healthy, it was also abundantly clear that his daughter was not. It was clear in how little she ate, how little she slept, and how often she’d come to my room looking for hours and hours of silence simply staring at his body. Her cheeks were becoming hollow; she was already rail-thin, but I could sense her thinness beginning to reach extremes, body fighting to hold onto slim remnants of fat and muscle. She spoke with nobody. She did nothing but argue. And the duties of Senator for Sarkhai lay in tatters on the conference room’s floor.
It was abundantly obvious that the matter of Tobas Grell had to be settled immediately, not just for his sake, but for his daughter’s. But no matter the manner or method I reached for, it all seemed to fail. Medicine did nothing for his mind. My meditations on his mind did little else but push his consciousness to retreat further. And no manner of shielding would step between the extremity of his trauma and his rational mind.
The carpeted floor cushioned my bare feet. The recycled air smelled of must, weeks away from any planet to pull air from. All lights seemed muted, my own mind in a daze from all my attempts at ease. And my eyes felt heavy with the loss of sleep I, too, had experienced.
What if I left his mind alone, I wondered. Would he return, of his own volition? But no: it would take weeks, nay, months, for him to regain a sense of consciousness again, never mind the full strength of his self-will. And what would be of Nadia then? Nothing but such a long period to continue waiting, to continue fasting, to continue to push her body to impossible limits. She’s falling deep into her grief, I thought to myself. Grief was such a strong motivator. I remembered it well, mourning the deaths of my own parents.
I stopped in front of a mirror, one illicit within the realm of the Jedi. I stared at my own tired eyes, at the rumples of my lounging robes, at the disarray of my hair. I looked no worse than Nadia, for sure. But I looked weak. The truth was, even my own attempts were beginning to wear down my own mind. I could only keep up such presence for so long, and my power was beginning to wane. What more could I do, what more than what I’d already done?
Deep down, I knew.
There remain the rituals to return the dead to the living, Suzuka.
My eyes widened at the mirage behind me. The common mirage I’d seen since I was young; the mirage I’d developed alongside my own sense of the Force. A black shadow, churning with the red of blood, mimicking my own silhouette, outstretching its hand. I felt my body stiffen. I held my breath, for hope of hiding my own fear.
You know there are darker and deeper rituals to bring him to the surface again, and you know you have the strength to perform them.
I close my eyes and take a deep inhale. My mind rifles through all the titles of texts I’d held in my hands, all the forbidden words that my eyes had taken in for my mind to comprehend. Texts that were never to be in Jedi libraries, or Jedi teachings. Texts that were, be it dangerous to say, even sithlike in memory. Yes - yes, I could remember, could remember the words and the ingredients and the incantations to make a mind return. I could remember the bloody sacrifices to bring somebody from the brink. I could remember the warnings, of the Force’s weight, and its desire to consume the user whole.
I remember feeling the Force’s full weight, and feeling strong.
“But what would I do,” I said aloud, “If it failed?” For there were punishments for Jedi who failed, oh, were their punishments. Even greater numbers of Jedi, stronger ones, had come together for such a task and failed. The abominations of the Sith fell upon them, and worse. Horrific contortions and constructions of ugly creatures, bent and bred from the Force’s most deadliest feedings, surviving solely through the sheer will to live, surviving through pain and a distinct heartlessness that came from the suffering no man could ever imagine bestowed. Stronger Jedi than I have fallen, I thought, yet the option remained. Remained, in the hand of the Dark Side that sought to take my own.
I suddenly remembered Balmorra. The president, and his own mind destroyed. Then, there had been no hope of his recovery, nothing but a slow and painful death in which he’d be unable to pass on his position to another. But Zenith and I, we had made it work, had pieced enough of his mind together with the barest of technologies to give him the strength to pass his title on.
And then after, when nobody had seen, I’d . . . laid him to rest.
But we didn’t have that technology upon the ship, I thought to myself. But Grell’s position would be passed on, regardless, to his daughter - that I remembered. If this were Balmorra and the same scenario as before, all would be done. All done, except for . . .
. . . and that would end the suffering. For all of us.
I opened my eyes. They were a solid green in the mirror. The figure of the Dark Side remained, but I turned from the mirror, away from its gaze, and walked past it to the head of my bed.
Senator Grell’s eyes were still open. I reached out with both my hands, shaking, and laid them over his gaze. I tried to pretend that my voice didn’t shake too.
“I’m deeply sorry, my friend. And . . . to you. Nadia.”
***
Screaming. I sat up from my bed in the core of the ship in the dark of the night. I can hear it, loud and clear, as well as the flooding of the Force from the bedroom of my ship.
“FATHER’S GONE! HE’S GONE - NO, ALAUNI, NO! I CAN’T DO THIS! FATHER!”
The sobbing was gross, gross and violent. But I was awake, and everybody would come to me now, I knew it. I shake my head, and push myself out of bed. I gave what I thought to be a quick glimpse to the mirror across from me, and nearly fainted at what I saw.
My eyes were the color of a poisonous purple.
I blinked once, and it cleared back to their normal, healthy green. I stood and stared in shock - maybe in awe. But the noise escalated, the screamings growing worse, and I simply sighed as I finally turn away, and left my room and to the stairs.
This had been my choice, I remembered - the choice to end the suffering, before it caused further chaos.
And if the result was to brand me a sinner . . . I would take it.
#swtor#star wars the old republic#suzuka hamasaki#jedi consular#senator grell#nadia grell#tobas grell#alauni#qyzen#grief#death#temptation#dark jedi#major character death#mental illness#my writing#fanfiction#aka i'm an awful human being and this is absolutely what suzuka did#also this makes more sense than what they did in story which was to immediately give up#that's not a spoiler so i'm gonna leave it at that#just read it i think it's okay
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