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darkdevasofdestruction · 3 years

Text

An Angel and A Demon ~ Pyramid Head x Reader

Update 2: My laptop restarted when I was in the middle of writing this, and trust me when I say it, I am positively pissed off, and I want to end my days, that's how bad of a day this was.

And I didn't leave the house.

That says a lot about today...

Update 1: But, without further ado, I was half-way writing this story, and I received this ask, and let me tell you...

helloooo, i absolutely adored the fanfics you wrote about kazan and danny🥺 could i request one where pyramid head is just really whipped for and in love with the survivor! reader but he doesnt know how to announce it to them so he brings her random ,,gifts" in and outside the trials and protecting her bc well, im pretty sure he cant speak so he doesnt really have any other options on how to express his feelings??

I live for it.

Bless you for sending me this, it's the reason I'm still sane right now.

I love you, baby-cakes.

Update 3: I want to kill myself so bad. Just smash my head on a wall until it explodes or sth. I was so happy with how this imagine turned out, only fuck fucking tumblr to just fucking delete EVERYTHING just as I was about to put the last gif and hit POST NOW.

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For the 5th time writing this :

FUCKMEDADDY - but this time - FUCKMYBRAINSOUTPLEASEIWANNADIE

Thanks.

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Hell - What was that place, anyway?

Some would describe it as an infinite ocean of flames and lava, where it's eternally melting-hot, and a bunch of hooved, horned, tailed red demons torture you with acid, with their red pitch forks, or boil you alive in their cauldron for soup. Or maybe you just get tortured by Stalin, who knows?

But never would have anyone thought that 'Hell' could look so...Normal. Well, normal in a very demolished, desolate, ravished way, but still...Normal, by human standards. Albeit, the never-ending loop of madness, anguish, agony and desperation of getting killed in different gruesome ways or fleeing for their lives and feeling a myriad of emotions pumping adrenaline through their veins so badly that their anxiety-meter skyrocketed to abnormal levels.

All this darkness, this hatred, this...Everything...It changed all the survivors. They became selfish, stubborn, rude, some even went as far as to sacrifice their fellow survivors in trials, just so they could survive. It was a complete mayhem that defied all kinds of reason, normality, morality or even ethics. Everyone became devoid of any laws that used to bind them to their humane sides, and now, you weren't sure if the killers were saner than the survivors or not.

But even in this abyss where you couldn't even see your hand in front of your very eyes, there was a little star - A beautiful angel radiating brightness and warmth, someone who was somehow able to guide everyone's straying souls with her benevolence.

In reality, she was merely a survivor, not the little lantern from an angler fish's head, but she treated everyone with such an untainted kindness...It was beautiful, and yet, unrequited for most parts. Everyone was still putting their own lives above all - And who could condemn them? - Perhaps their cowardice, for the girl preferred to save her fellow survivors as much as possible, even if that oftentimes assured her place on the hook, to be a sacrificial lamb for the Entity.

On the other hand, she rarely ended up on the hook - Most killers prefer to kill her themselves, instead of letting her become pray for the horrible Entity who tortured so many of them for refusing to cooperate - The Trapper, Evan MacMillan - He knew the best, with those hooks digging into his flesh, impossible to extract. He was the first to protect this girl. It wasn't much, but if he had to, he'd rather give her a swift, painless death, than seeing her without that serene, angelic smile on her face, as the Entity feeds on the last bits of her soul's beauty, the last parts of her humanity.

The other Killers were confused at the Trapper's actions, but little by little, they began to understand why this girl was so precious and special - And this domino effect hit Rin Yamaoka next, with Y/N stopping in the middle of a chase and taking off her jacket, just as Rin was about to butcher her with her katana, and she smiled, extending it to her. 'You must be cold' she said, realising that the Spirit was merely wearing a few bandages, not even her school uniform, or her kimono.

The ghost girl was shaken up by this, and told the others at the killer camp, but they just shrugged it off - Rin was a little girl who faced close to no kindness, they weren't surprised she was so taken aback by such a feat. That is, until Adiris, in a particularly terrible day, when everyone at the camp was staying away from her, as her profane censer wasn't able to cover the stench of rotting flesh - Y/N came over, taking out a small yet elegant glass bottle with pink liquid on it, spraying some on her - And now, The Plague smelled of roses and vanilla - 'You can come to me for perfume whenever you want, I always carry some with me!' she grinned at the Babylonian High Priestess, before leaving back to the survivor's camp site, leaving the ancient God symbol to stare with her mouth agape at the girl.

These words began to spread, and it was no surprise when the killers saw Susie clinging and begging her Legion friends to spare Y/N, for she was there to hug away her worries more than once, to tell her sweet words, to play with her hair and play the guitar whatever songs she wanted to hear, to get reminded of her home - She was so home sick that she freaked out, but now she was better, thanks to Y/N - 'I know you miss home, but sometimes, home is where your best friends are, and all three of them are here!' she tried to encourage the cute pink-haired girl who could only squeal and hug her new friend.

Even Ghostface wasn't exempt from falling to her charms, and they would often take silly selfies and mess around, making fun of the old horror movie tropes and doing lots of puns and pranks - So much that she even got his trust to be told about the Danny/Jed thing, and how he began his killer profession - 'You're a very talented photographer, Danny! You deserved all that recognition you got, both as a journalist, and as a killer!'

And very soon, Y/N found herself in the crushing arms of an overprotective Anna, humming her mother's lullaby together with walking through the forest, Y/N making flower crows for all the female killers at the camp site, and little by little, she somehow managed to worm her way under everyone's skins.

Y/N was the survivor with the highest survivability percentage, and maybe the Entity sometimes got pissed off, but at least she still got killed sometimes, so who cares? Well, that was soon to change as soon as a new Killer was added to this sick game - Pyramid Head, the terror of Silent Hill, as Cheryl, the new Survivor, called him - or The Executioner, as he was known now. He was ruthless, merciless, grotesque - He had his own criteria of killing, his own moral compass, ethics, conscience and understanding of the concept of life and death. Nothing that could compare to the visions of humans, clearly - Everything was gravitating around Divine Retribution and Justice, but the from the outside, he was nothing but a killing machine.

He would kill everyone and anyone that crosses his path, without fail.

Y/N felt like her fortune ended completely the second she found herself in the new, overly cramped map, with Pyramid Head as the killer - She couldn't help but run around like a spazzic meerkat, trying to find and fix as many generators as possible, without having to get face to face with the walking hazard...

Only to run past a stuck Pyramid Head.

Slowly backtracing her steps, she saw the mountain of a man with his metal pyramid stuck in the frames a low window which he tried to walk over. He was trashing like a raged bull trying to attack a matador, but it was clear he was getting nowhere with this.

"H-Hey, u-uhm...Need some help?" she asked in a soft, careful voice, almost like a meek cat trying to test the waters, but in return, he started groaning even louder from the wrath he wanted to unleash upon the whole world. "Okay, uhm...I think I saw a can of vaseline in one of the chests around. I'll go fetch it and I'll come back for you. Don't move." she said, only to then realise how horrible that sounded, considering the situation, and it only seemed to anger the killer. "...I'm sorry, ignore me, I'm an idiot." she slapped herself pretty harshly before bolting out of there trying to find the chest.

However, Y/N cursed herself for not having perfectly memorised the whole map by heart already, since she found the vaseline can after the 3rd chest, and then, it took quite a while to find the bloody window that got the killer stuck - And by the time she got there, she was dead tired. "Okay, I'm here, I found the vaseline! Let's try to get you out of here." Y/N muttered as she put her feet on the low window pane to get to his level. "If it's not too much trouble, could you please hold onto me? I can't balance myself with both hands occupied, and I'd rather not fall." she explained as she opened the vaseline can, only to shiver as she felt two big, strong hands getting a firm grip on her hips. It was almost...Endearing, were she not too busy trying to get the killer unstuck. She kept massaging the metal edge, trying to push and pull, also praying to whatever deity that existed in her human world that she had her tetanus shot done on time - Until finally, she was able to get hear a loud screech, like a pop, and the killer got unstuck, and in the process, he stumbled backwards, while Y/N fell down on her butt.

"Ouchie..." she muttered, rubbing her back and sides to take away the pain surging through her body. "Are you okay?" she asked, almost intuitively, without realising it at first, until she heart a low grunt that brought her back to reality. "O-Oh...! You have glass shards stuck in your side! And you're bleeding too! Hold up, let me help." she hurried to his side, while the killer merely stiffened, feeling her delicate, slender fingers tracing his body, while he heaved and slouched his shoulders from the repressed wrath. "It may sting a bit, and I'm really sorry, but I promise it will be better soon." her voice was so motherly and warm, which also resonated in her actions, as she gingerly took a water bottle and imbued some tissues with it, to wipe away the blood smearing down his skin as she extracted the glass shards, and then..."This is grandma's marigold ointment. It's really good, and it smells nice." she explained as she carefully smeared a thick layer of the yellow ointment on the biggest wounds, while the little ones were covered by smiley-flower patterned plasters. They were cute, and colourful, and they never failed to make her smile. "Okay, there we go, all better! I hope you'll feel better very soon!" her voice got a tiny bit more cheerful and upbeat.

It made the Killer think about a trillion things, as he stepped in front of her, towering over her like the Empire states building next to a smiling pomeranian. What was with this girl? Why did she help a killer? And why did he feel so...Warm inside? He could sense a foreign kind of luminosity, a naivite and innocence that he only witnessed in children and animals. This woman in front of him was untainted by the darkness and evil of the world.

It didn't matter how many hardships she's been through, or how much sadness she had to endure - Her soul remained as pure as any snowdrop, as the first snow of winter, as the fleece of a baby lamb who let out its first 'meeeeh' to its mamma sheep.

He couldn't allow this human to be maimed in any way - Not by the world, not by the Entity, and certainly not by him. - Screw the Entity, Pyramind Head kills by his own rules, and now, he was blessed to be faced with a human who bore no real hatred for her peers, or for the world, despite the horrible situation she was thrown into.

He didn't understand, obviously, especially as he remembered the myriad of abominations that lurked through Silent Hill, all of them created by the torment of humans - The very torment that distorted their own reality, which resulted in him needing to solve the purpose as The Executioner - Eradicating the world of all evil.

"Th-This sword is so heavy...H-How can you carry this around like that...?! Your muscles must be so strained and sore...Y-You really need a massage, I'm sure." she stuttered as she tried to lift the much taller and heavier sword from the ground, only for the brute to simply bend and pick it up with extreme ease, putting the girl to shame with her complete lack of strength. "Hehe...You're really strong. I'm embarrassed now." she chuckled softly, scratching the back of her neck.

Before she could leave or do anything else, Pyramid Head picked her up by the throat, careful not to hurt her or restrict her air intake - I mean, how else was he supposed to carry her so he wouldn't hurt her with his metal head or sword? - and it was pretty clear she didn't feel any malevolence from him, as she clinged on his forearm, trying to keep herself up, only to be dumped on top of the hatch, as the killer pointed towards it, so she would leave.

"O-Oh...! Thank you so much! You're really kind! I really appreciate this...I-I know it probably doesn't matter much to you, since you'll be doing this over and over again with all the survivors...But I really appreciate you for your kind gesture, and I appreciate you for being so nice with me. Thank you. Take care!" her dazzling smile lit the whole place up, but he couldn't talk, nor could he tell her how he should be the one thanking her for showing him that, despite the hundreds and thousands of years he had to roam the 'Earth' and execute the injust, miracles still existed.

As soon as she reached the survivor's camp, everyone cheered for her, asking how in the world could she have escaped the wrath of the butcher. "Oh, but he wasn't that bad. In fact, he's much more humane than I anticipated! I think he has a beautiful, blooming heart!" okay, she's lost it - the other survivors thought - but even so, she's always been a bit...Out of it, so who cares?

It took quite a while for the other three survivors to reach the camp, all bloody, in fact, like the new killer, who dragged himself with the same menace to the Killers' camp. "How the hell did you manage to survive?!" they yelled at her in utter shock, seeing that she got out of there unscratched. "Oh, you see...I found the hatch." she shrugged simply, not wanting to give away that the person who massacred those three was a soft one and he basically threw her down the hatch to her safety.

As she took a twig to roast a marshmallows, she noticed how Pyramid Head was standing much farther away from the rest of the killers - She knew that silent killers were bound to stay away from the more obnoxious one, remembering how Michael Myers almost killed Ghostface and The Legion at least a dozen times - But this time...He seemed kinda...Lonely? So Y/N took the matters into her own hands, roasted another marshmallow in another twig, and when it was done, she went to the killer's camp, calling out the lonely one's name - She has no idea why, but he actually followed her, pushing her further deep into the forest, until he was sure nobody was going to hear, see or interrupt them...

"Hey. You seemed pretty lonely out there...I thought you could use a friend. Thank you again for what you did at the trial...Here, this is a marshmallow. I don't think you've had many before...Cheryl told me of that horrible place you had to live in...So I hope this will make your day a bit better!" Y/N extended one of her hands towards him, so he could take the marshmallow - And a long, black tongue erupted from underneath the pyramid, snatching away the fluffy marshmallow and gulping it in one go.

What the hell was he turning into?

A towering man built of pure muscle, wrath and divine justice, with a pyramid representing the evil of humanity burdening his body, and a sword taller and heavier than the average human being constantly dragged in one of his hand...He now was a slave to a cute, innocent girl who was putting flower plasters on his minuscule wounds that would heal in a heartbeat regardless - He saved this girl who was now offering his these soft, squishy things that tasted overly sugarly, just like her upbeat and cheerful personality - If he could eat her, he was sure she would taste even sweeter than this - A sickish kind of sweet, that is.

She was indeed a beautiful angel in this tragic hell. But he didn't wait to snatch the second marshmallow either.

"Ah...! You liked it, didn't you? Well...Next time, I promise I'll give you more!" she grinned at him the same way a princess would to her chivalrous knight who saved her. The since he couldn't talk, silence took over them - It wasn't an uncomfortable one, per se, but it made it feel as if the conversation was over. "W-Well...I'll guess I'll see you around! Take care and I hope to see you again soon!" she waved cutely, trying to turn around back to her camp, only to feel a rough hand on her shoulder, turning her around and urging her to stop and wait for him and he went deep into the forest, leaving her alone and undefended by the potential malevolent forces of the forest.

When he returned, however, he stepped right in front of her, creating the perfect shade as he towered over her - Then he kneeled in front of her, so he would reach her eye sight, then he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and put a beautiful pink flower - As pink as the blush that started creeping on her face - He wanted to see her luminous face better, to highlight her dazzling smile and her glimmering eyes as the warm, silver light of the mother moon caressed her face.

Y/N felt her heart picking up the pace - It was beating so much faster than ever before - But this time, it wasn't out of fear or anything negative...It was something good. Something she never felt in her life, especially with her human acquaintances from back home. None was as chivalrous and gentle with her as this butcher of tormented souls - The bringer of justice, the merciless Executioner who was supposed to end the life of every living being that would cross his path.

It was insane how every Yin finds its Yang, even if that comes in the form of a little lamb of a small, frail girl, and a huge abomination of a brute man who knows nothing but death, bloodshed and carnage. It was truly crazy how opposites attract, and here she was, holding the killers large hands and gingerly putting them on her face, leaning into his touch - She felt safer now than ever in her life - Now, in the arms of an ancient killer.

An Angel and A Demon brought together in a perfect union.

As she leaned down, she touched the metal of the pyramid where she anticipated his forehead would be with her own forehead, and closing her eyes, she finally felt herself calming down. There was no need for words, actions spoke louder than anything, and she appreciated it...She appreciated him.

"Thank you." she whispered to him, knowing that yes, even though nobody else would hear it anyway, it was much more intimate than anything she ever experienced.

She was hooked.

Hope you liked my completely shameless pun, I couldn't stop it, especially after the pain I went through trying to write this...3 freaking times.

Yay.

#dead by daylight #dead by daylight x reader #dead by daylight imagine #dbd #dbd x reader #dbd imagine #silent hill #silent hill x reader #silent hill imagine #pyramid head #pyramid head x reader #pyramid head imagine #red pyramid #red pyramid x reader #red pyramid imagine

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itadoryryoken · 3 years

Text

pyramid head x soft reader

Some would describe it as an infinite ocean of flames and lava, where it’s eternally melting-hot, and a bunch of hooved, horned, tailed red demons torture you with acid, with their red pitch forks, or boil you alive in their cauldron for soup. Or maybe you just get tortured by Stalin, who knows?

But never would have anyone thought that ‘Hell’ could look so…Normal. Well, normal in a very demolished, desolate, ravished way, but still…Normal, by human standards. Albeit, the never-ending loop of madness, anguish, agony and desperation of getting killed in different gruesome ways or fleeing for their lives and feeling a myriad of emotions pumping adrenaline through their veins so badly that their anxiety-meter skyrocketed to abnormal levels.

All this darkness, this hatred, this…Everything…It changed all the survivors. They became selfish, stubborn, rude, some even went as far as to sacrifice their fellow survivors in trials, just so they could survive. It was a complete mayhem that defied all kinds of reason, normality, morality or even ethics. Everyone became devoid of any laws that used to bind them to their humane sides, and now, you weren’t sure if the killers were saner than the survivors or not.

But even in this abyss where you couldn’t even see your hand in front of your very eyes, there was a little star - A beautiful angel radiating brightness and warmth, someone who was somehow able to guide everyone’s straying souls with her benevolence.

In reality, she was merely a survivor, not the little lantern from an angler fish’s head, but she treated everyone with such an untainted kindness…It was beautiful, and yet, unrequited for most parts. Everyone was still putting their own lives above all - And who could condemn them? - Perhaps their cowardice, for the girl preferred to save her fellow survivors as much as possible, even if that oftentimes assured her place on the hook, to be a sacrificial lamb for the Entity.

On the other hand, she rarely ended up on the hook - Most killers prefer to kill her themselves, instead of letting her become pray for the horrible Entity who tortured so many of them for refusing to cooperate - The Trapper, Evan MacMillan - He knew the best, with those hooks digging into his flesh, impossible to extract. He was the first to protect this girl. It wasn’t much, but if he had to, he’d rather give her a swift, painless death, than seeing her without that serene, angelic smile on her face, as the Entity feeds on the last bits of her soul’s beauty, the last parts of her humanity.

The other Killers were confused at the Trapper’s actions, but little by little, they began to understand why this girl was so precious and special - And this domino effect hit Rin Yamaoka next, with Y/N stopping in the middle of a chase and taking off her jacket, just as Rin was about to butcher her with her katana, and she smiled, extending it to her. 'You must be cold’ she said, realising that the Spirit was merely wearing a few bandages, not even her school uniform, or her kimono.

The ghost girl was shaken up by this, and told the others at the killer camp, but they just shrugged it off - Rin was a little girl who faced close to no kindness, they weren’t surprised she was so taken aback by such a feat. That is, until Adiris, in a particularly terrible day, when everyone at the camp was staying away from her, as her profane censer wasn’t able to cover the stench of rotting flesh - Y/N came over, taking out a small yet elegant glass bottle with pink liquid on it, spraying some on her - And now, The Plague smelled of roses and vanilla - 'You can come to me for perfume whenever you want, I always carry some with me!’ she grinned at the Babylonian High Priestess, before leaving back to the survivor’s camp site, leaving the ancient God symbol to stare with her mouth agape at the girl.

These words began to spread, and it was no surprise when the killers saw Susie clinging and begging her Legion friends to spare Y/N, for she was there to hug away her worries more than once, to tell her sweet words, to play with her hair and play the guitar whatever songs she wanted to hear, to get reminded of her home - She was so home sick that she freaked out, but now she was better, thanks to Y/N - 'I know you miss home, but sometimes, home is where your best friends are, and all three of them are here!’she tried to encourage the cute pink-haired girl who could only squeal and hug her new friend.

Even Ghostface wasn’t exempt from falling to her charms, and they would often take silly selfies and mess around, making fun of the old horror movie tropes and doing lots of puns and pranks - So much that she even got his trust to be told about the Danny/Jed thing, and how he began his killer profession - 'You’re a very talented photographer, Danny! You deserved all that recognition you got, both as a journalist, and as a killer!’

And very soon, Y/N found herself in the crushing arms of an overprotective Anna, humming her mother’s lullaby together with walking through the forest, Y/N making flower crows for all the female killers at the camp site, and little by little, she somehow managed to worm her way under everyone’s skins.

He would kill everyone and anyone that crosses his path, without fail.

Y/N felt like her fortune ended completely the second she found herself in the new, overly cramped map, with Pyramid Head as the killer - She couldn’t help but run around like a spazzic meerkat, trying to find and fix as many generators as possible, without having to get face to face with the walking hazard…

Only to run past a stuck Pyramid Head.

“H-Hey, u-uhm…Need some help?” she asked in a soft, careful voice, almost like a meek cat trying to test the waters, but in return, he started groaning even louder from the wrath he wanted to unleash upon the whole world. “Okay, uhm…I think I saw a can of vaseline in one of the chests around. I’ll go fetch it and I’ll come back for you. Don’t move.” she said, only to then realise how horrible that sounded, considering the situation, and it only seemed to anger the killer. “…I’m sorry, ignore me, I’m an idiot.”she slapped herself pretty harshly before bolting out of there trying to find the chest.

However, Y/N cursed herself for not having perfectly memorised the whole map by heart already, since she found the vaseline can after the 3rd chest, and then, it took quite a while to find the bloody window that got the killer stuck - And by the time she got there, she was dead tired. “Okay, I’m here, I found the vaseline! Let’s try to get you out of here.” Y/N muttered as she put her feet on the low window pane to get to his level. “If it’s not too much trouble, could you please hold onto me? I can’t balance myself with both hands occupied, and I’d rather not fall.” she explained as she opened the vaseline can, only to shiver as she felt two big, strong hands getting a firm grip on her hips. It was almost…Endearing, were she not too busy trying to get the killer unstuck. She kept massaging the metal edge, trying to push and pull, also praying to whatever deity that existed in her human world that she had her tetanus shot done on time - Until finally, she was able to get hear a loud screech, like a pop, and the killer got unstuck, and in the process, he stumbled backwards, while Y/N fell down on her butt.

“Ouchie…” she muttered, rubbing her back and sides to take away the pain surging through her body. “Are you okay?” she asked, almost intuitively, without realising it at first, until she heart a low grunt that brought her back to reality. “O-Oh…! You have glass shards stuck in your side! And you’re bleeding too! Hold up, let me help.” she hurried to his side, while the killer merely stiffened, feeling her delicate, slender fingers tracing his body, while he heaved and slouched his shoulders from the repressed wrath. “It may sting a bit, and I’m really sorry, but I promise it will be better soon.” her voice was so motherly and warm, which also resonated in her actions, as she gingerly took a water bottle and imbued some tissues with it, to wipe away the blood smearing down his skin as she extracted the glass shards, and then…“This is grandma’s marigold ointment. It’s really good, and it smells nice.” she explained as she carefully smeared a thick layer of the yellow ointment on the biggest wounds, while the little ones were covered by smiley-flower patterned plasters. They were cute, and colourful, and they never failed to make her smile. “Okay, there we go, all better! I hope you’ll feel better very soon!” her voice got a tiny bit more cheerful and upbeat.

It made the Killer think about a trillion things, as he stepped in front of her, towering over her like the Empire states building next to a smiling pomeranian. What was with this girl? Why did she help a killer? And why did he feel so…Warm inside? He could sense a foreign kind of luminosity, a naivite and innocence that he only witnessed in children and animals. This woman in front of him was untainted by the darkness and evil of the world.

It didn’t matter how many hardships she’s been through, or how much sadness she had to endure - Her soul remained as pure as any snowdrop, as the first snow of winter, as the fleece of a baby lamb who let out its first 'meeeeh’ to its mamma sheep.

He couldn’t allow this human to be maimed in any way - Not by the world, not by the Entity, and certainly not by him. - Screw the Entity, Pyramind Head kills by his own rules, and now, he was blessed to be faced with a human who bore no real hatred for her peers, or for the world, despite the horrible situation she was thrown into.

He didn’t understand, obviously, especially as he remembered the myriad of abominations that lurked through Silent Hill, all of them created by the torment of humans - The very torment that distorted their own reality, which resulted in him needing to solve the purpose as The Executioner - Eradicating the world of all evil.

“Th-This sword is so heavy…H-How can you carry this around like that…?! Your muscles must be so strained and sore…Y-You really need a massage, I’m sure.” she stuttered as she tried to lift the much taller and heavier sword from the ground, only for the brute to simply bend and pick it up with extreme ease, putting the girl to shame with her complete lack of strength. “Hehe…You’re really strong. I’m embarrassed now.” she chuckled softly, scratching the back of her neck.

Before she could leave or do anything else, Pyramid Head picked her up by the throat, careful not to hurt her or restrict her air intake - I mean, how else was he supposed to carry her so he wouldn’t hurt her with his metal head or sword? - and it was pretty clear she didn’t feel any malevolence from him, as she clinged on his forearm, trying to keep herself up, only to be dumped on top of the hatch, as the killer pointed towards it, so she would leave.

“O-Oh…! Thank you so much! You’re really kind! I really appreciate this…I-I know it probably doesn’t matter much to you, since you’ll be doing this over and over again with all the survivors…But I really appreciate you for your kind gesture, and I appreciate you for being so nice with me. Thank you. Take care!” her dazzling smile lit the whole place up, but he couldn’t talk, nor could he tell her how he should be the one thanking her for showing him that, despite the hundreds and thousands of years he had to roam the 'Earth’ and execute the injust, miracles still existed.

As soon as she reached the survivor’s camp, everyone cheered for her, asking how in the world could she have escaped the wrath of the butcher. “Oh, but he wasn’t that bad. In fact, he’s much more humane than I anticipated! I think he has a beautiful, blooming heart!” okay, she’s lost it - the other survivors thought - but even so, she’s always been a bit…Out of it, so who cares?

It took quite a while for the other three survivors to reach the camp, all bloody, in fact, like the new killer, who dragged himself with the same menace to the Killers’ camp. “How the hell did you manage to survive?!” they yelled at her in utter shock, seeing that she got out of there unscratched. “Oh, you see…I found the hatch.” she shrugged simply, not wanting to give away that the person who massacred those three was a soft one and he basically threw her down the hatch to her safety.

As she took a twig to roast a marshmallows, she noticed how Pyramid Head was standing much farther away from the rest of the killers - She knew that silent killers were bound to stay away from the more obnoxious one, remembering how Michael Myers almost killed Ghostface and The Legion at least a dozen times - But this time…He seemed kinda…Lonely? So Y/N took the matters into her own hands, roasted another marshmallow in another twig, and when it was done, she went to the killer’s camp, calling out the lonely one’s name - She has no idea why, but he actually followed her, pushing her further deep into the forest, until he was sure nobody was going to hear, see or interrupt them…

“Hey. You seemed pretty lonely out there…I thought you could use a friend. Thank you again for what you did at the trial…Here, this is a marshmallow. I don’t think you’ve had many before…Cheryl told me of that horrible place you had to live in…So I hope this will make your day a bit better!” Y/N extended one of her hands towards him, so he could take the marshmallow - And a long, black tongue erupted from underneath the pyramid, snatching away the fluffy marshmallow and gulping it in one go.

What the hell was he turning into?

A towering man built of pure muscle, wrath and divine justice, with a pyramid representing the evil of humanity burdening his body, and a sword taller and heavier than the average human being constantly dragged in one of his hand…He now was a slave to a cute, innocent girl who was putting flower plasters on his minuscule wounds that would heal in a heartbeat regardless - He saved this girl who was now offering his these soft, squishy things that tasted overly sugarly, just like her upbeat and cheerful personality - If he could eat her, he was sure she would taste even sweeter than this - A sickish kind of sweet, that is.

She was indeed a beautiful angel in this tragic hell. But he didn’t wait to snatch the second marshmallow either.

“Ah…! You liked it, didn’t you? Well…Next time, I promise I’ll give you more!” she grinned at him the same way a princess would to her chivalrous knight who saved her. The since he couldn’t talk, silence took over them - It wasn’t an uncomfortable one, per se, but it made it feel as if the conversation was over. “W-Well…I’ll guess I’ll see you around! Take care and I hope to see you again soon!” she waved cutely, trying to turn around back to her camp, only to feel a rough hand on her shoulder, turning her around and urging her to stop and wait for him and he went deep into the forest, leaving her alone and undefended by the potential malevolent forces of the forest.

Y/N felt her heart picking up the pace - It was beating so much faster than ever before - But this time, it wasn’t out of fear or anything negative…It was something good. Something she never felt in her life, especially with her human acquaintances from back home. None was as chivalrous and gentle with her as this butcher of tormented souls - The bringer of justice, the merciless Executioner who was supposed to end the life of every living being that would cross his path.

An Angel and A Demon brought together in a perfect union.

“Thank you.” she whispered to him, knowing that yes, even though nobody else would hear it anyway, it was much more intimate than anything she ever experienced.

She was hooked.

📷

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thehopefulsnowflake · 3 years

Text

And again here are more theories and opinions about the magnus archives from my brother

The corruption is one of the "four horsemen"

War and conquest are the military ghosts, and the desolation

Famine and pestilence is the buggy bois

Death is the end, duh

The corruption is colonisation basically

Elias is against having a cat, because they are too powerful, he was very serious about this

Centipedes have a masochistic foot fetish, millipedes have a normal one, don't ask

The woman in Dead Woman Walking is just a Zombie

Is the Woman a victim of the Book of Death from MAG 70

Georgie is a ghosty hunty person

Georgie and Melanie don't seem to be afraid of anything

The Italian mountain troops would have known they were being fucked with

More undead

Reminded him sort of the Meat Men

Also reminded him of the buried on the London underground

The mysterious firing squad intrigued him, did all the men that went up the mountain come back to kill him?

Basira is Drax from gotg

She'll randomly appear and no one will know she's there until she speaks

The chuckle brothers origin story, he means Breekon and Hope

Didn't think the circus had anything to do with the stranger

Breekon and Hope are taxidermy

So they're with the stranger

The Stranger is just everything that doesn't fall under something else

The circus was it's own thing

The cult of the lightless flame is it's own thing

The people's Church of the devine host is it's own thing

The circus is just full of people who you don't know, if you do know them that's sad... He was kinda rambling at this point

Is Sarah Baldwin capable of being bored

Why was she working with Melanie?

Do you just take a liking to ghost people

Did you take them over before of after they were eaten.

The Buried is called The London underground

Is it the Fairchild's? Thinks they're about isolation

Thinks it might be a book

The pit could be an Antlion

Thought that the young woman who was eaten by the pit turned into Gertrude

The young man could be, Gerry, Martin, Salesa, young Jon, Elias.

Thinks The stranger is vanilla in terms of gods and monsters.

The stranger is the least interesting.

Thinks all the Stranger wants to do is just summon a god

For some reason he thinks the Dark should be doing more to stop them, because Rayner wouldn't want that to happen

Martin will rap battle the archive to victory, via poetry from Leitners books

The stranger could just be Lego

He's horny for Rayner, his words not mine

Mr. Sandman brought him a dream

Thinks that the Dark at least can get to their gods dimension but choose not to.

If you make everywhere dark does their god appear?

He asked what would happen if two factions tried to summon their god at the same time what would happen

Thinks that all the Avatars /Entities do the same thing.

Breekon and hope have never killed anyone

Maxwell Rayner is a time travelling shadow demon

Mr sandman is like an angry sandy from Rotg

He made this episode unnecessarily kinky

They're just summoning gods

The stranger is remarkably being left alone

Thinks there is no fighting between factions

If anything they're aided

Is the Fairchild's entity already here

Are they working with the other factions

Says he knows whats going to happen because he "knows how these things go"

The Beholding is already on this side and if another God is summoned then it will be booted

Elias killed Gertrude because she was trying to defeat the Beholding and if it was defeated he would turn into the same thing as below the Library in Alexandria

There were three versions of the unknowing that he thought of

Destroying the concept of identity, the unknowing destroys the concept of personality, individuality, and identity. Turning them into Stranger worshipping entities

The angler fish was the thing in the basement at the Taxidermy shop

Stranger just means it couldn't get any stranger

Or it's deliberate parodies of humans

Breekon and Hope were normal people

Salesa, the chuckle brothers, the meat man, the skin walkers, the taxidermist, the manquien, Not-Sasha, the architects, the circus and to some extent the witches are part of the stranger

Magnus is a stranger that took over Elias

He also thinks Elias is just Magnus who found out how to stick around for a while

But Elias isn't the archive god like he first thought

The twisted detergent is Michael's new entity

Michael is like Loki if he didn't have a brother

The stranger is the big bad

Jon is an idiot, he's a bit slow

His second theory for the unknowing is that It's just going to destroy all knowledge revolving the Elder gods, hence the unknowing, the one he thought the least likely

And third, It somehow increases their powers so that the few people that would recognise them, no longer do. Levelling up in short. Thinks it would work for every entity

Doesn't think The Unknowing would be that big of a shift

The circus and the stranger were different because the Circus dealt with the "Freak show"

Thinks Rayner isn't dead

Dust devils

Dirt zombies

Has only made the connection between the Underground, the pit and the dust storm

Was the kid in the car Michael

Was Michael always the Spiral but just really liked working with Gertrude

Michael is the Spiral, he doesn't worship anything

Elias took Gertrude from him, now he's after revenge

Jon should go chill with everyone at the Archive

Jon should have a sword

While you were busy not having a paranoid breakdown I studied the blade

Michael has a crush on Gertrude

He has a granny kink, he is obsessed with making it all kink related

Michael originally gave his powers away to be with Gertrude

Michael took on this form because he could blend in or brag

He's a monster with a thing for Gertrude

Michael wasn't the same Michael as in the tape

Just trying to trick everyone

Lynne Hammond was lying, goes in line with the church of the lightless flame but it didn't happen

Maybe she heard something similar but it didn't actually happen to her, she was just trying to get some money

He actually feels bad for Tim

Tim should run

John Smith was half telling the truth.

People are in the tunnel's but it's not a government conspiracy

Tim doesn't deserve this

You can tell Basira is used to dealing with idiots

Liked that it cut out when Robin Lennox said let me start again, it's like the archive was trying to make it stop

Thinks the archive doesn't care what is being read to it, someone should read it the Lord of the Ringd

The archive is recording the tape recorders not Elias

Get the dog out

Michael was the crying man, he wanted the dog out

He doesn't want to hurt the dog

"Gertrude why did you leave me? I'll get you one day Elias" based on his Michael granny kink theory

Brian Finlinson was the most coherent in terms of links

Thinks that the spiders were actually there, hiding whenever anyone came around

Lynne is lying, John Smith is half telling the truth, Robin Lennox saw Michael having a breakdown, Brian Finlinson was telling the truth

He didn't remember Peter Lukas ever being mentioned before

Already shipping Peter and Elias

Michael is very sensitive

The Fairchild's and the Lukas' are working together

They don't seem to have an interest in the conflict going on between everyone else

The Fairchild's were in aerospace and Lukas was the ships

Still cthulhu

Even space had a cthulhu vibe

The depth of the ocean or the isolation of space

The Lukas and the archive are working together

There are some of these guys that don't want the entities on this side

Likes the power, doesn't want the full on entities here

The Lukas and the Fairchild's are the cthulhus

They're somewhat working with the archive/the beholding

Is Elias actually a Lukas? Decided yes because he and Peter are married

How much do the Lukas have to do with the Beholding

What sort of arrangement do they have?

Nikola was supposed to be part of the circus but there is a difference between the facimalies and the circus

Thinks that the archive burning down would have no downsides for the Beholding.

They'll summon a god and gazing upon it will kill everyone, everyone dies.

As he was now halfway through the series he explained who he thought was in each of these factions

The beholding, Elias, Martin, Tim, basira, daisy, sims, melanie, sasha, Rosie, Gertrude, leitner. Sasha is caught in a time loop...

The stranger, everyone, has no limits, The maniquein, the taxidermy, the circus, skin walkers, grifters bone, breekon and Hope, angler fish

The desolation, the cult of the lightless flame, Jims pims aka Jude Perry, Agnes,

People's Church of the divine host, Rayner, Rayner have something to do with the German crypt, Rayner Is also not dead

The diggy boys, the buried, Maggie and Gordon from the dump, dig dude from Dig, whatever was going on with the pit, and the dust storm.

Meat, no recurring. The haans that's it.

Buggy boys, spiders, Jane prentiss

Michael, the twisting deceit, the twisting deceit just is Michael, didn't exist before him

The leitners, the witches are using the books, Gérard, Mike crew,

Cthulhu collective, the lukas', the Fairchild's. Both are just isolation, the Fairchild's are all about being alone, the only time the Lukas have turned up are being alone either in space or at sea

The witches, Mary Keay, puzzle witch, have big crossover with the Leitners, they just have some of leitners books

Trevor is his own entity, is he part of the desease and corruption group

The architects, smirke, smirkes apprentice.

Jared is his own thing. Just found a self help book

It's a giant celestial orgy!

Also Came up with a random spinoff comedy again

Slowly the archive collects strange people

Michael, who is mourning Gertrude... Loudly

They found a worm in the tunnel left over from Prentiss

The worm loves gooseberries

That's Elias, we're not sure what he is

Thats the Admiral, it is a cat.... It runs the place

Rayner is sat in the corner giggling

Leitner started a microbrewery in the basement

Serves bud leitner, you can't get leitner than this

#He keeps coming up with sitcom ideas #the magnus archives #the magnus archives spoilers #tma #tma spoilers #The magnus archives theories

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equalseleventhirds · 4 years

Text

THEORY: the line between fear-monster and fear-avatar is not as clean as we pretend. as in, can we really be sure that the so-called monsters were never human (or animal, or bits of human/animal)?

yes, creatures like the not-them and the monster pig and the angler fish seemed essentially unkillable (leitner said the not-them could not be killed, only contained; gertrude had the pig encased in concrete bcos supposedly it couldn’t be killed; daisy shot at ‘sarah baldwin’ and didn’t kill her). but how does that differ from avatars like oliver banks, who comes back to life, or john amherst, who had to be likewise encased in cement, or jonathan archivist himself, who is p much undead? there are different rules for different avatars, so who’s to say the monsters aren’t like them? and, well, the angler fish seems to have died at the unknowing, and it turns out the not-them can be killed.

and jonny mentioned in a q&a that the monster pig was a monster bcos it just appeared rather than being made from existing pigs. sure, that’s word of god, but i’m killing the author: if, say, annabelle cane just fucking showed up somewhere and started doing spider shit, to the outside observer she would seem to have Just Appeared, even tho she was human before and then became monstrous and then showed up somewhere else. we can’t know the monster pig was not a normal pig like, a hundred years ago, became a flesh avatar, and has been wandering around sneaking into pig pens and terrorizing people for ages. we just never got its origin story bcos survivor’s bias.

there’s also been discussion that becoming an avatar requires a choice. where does that put someone like agnes? she made no choice. she wasn’t a traditional fear monster as we’ve come to know them; she also didn’t fit into the avatar mold. we could say fear-touched, but the desolation did more than touch her, it was her. so what was she?

and simon fairchild, when asked about the monsters, responds initially with ‘what monsters?’ he only comes up with his response about ‘imagine a hand’ when martin elaborates that he means ‘things like the distortion’ (which is interesting, since michael and helen both specifically were human once, and became the distortion through a choice, unaware and unknowing the consequences as they were, and thus would be both traditionally be avatars.) (simon is a liar and a conman, i’m saying. simon told martin what he thought martin was prepared to hear and understand. simon’s also older than smirke’s fourteen and prolly would have some shit to say about that, perhaps.)

what i’m saying is, join me in my new concept, partially inspired by 165, of the not-them starting out as a human, cast out in some way by society, who stole identities, took on new names, wore costumes and makeup and disguises, and gradually became the monster we now know.

in 165 the not-them was furious at being known. and i think the poem-statement jon spoke, the experiences of the riders on the merry go round, might have originally belonged to the not-them.

‘a world where if you’d wish to have a name it must be stolen, carved and pulled full-bloody from the frame of others who would wish in vain to hold their selfness close. you want a face? take it. there are so many here, and those who cannot hold them, well, whoever chose to give them such a gift must take the blame, knowing they could never keep it in a world of so much thieving strangeness.’

‘and soon enough they will forget they ever had one.’

#tma spoilers #the magnus archives #every day i am making theories that directly contradict both fanon and canon #but with evidence ok. with evidence.#...look when jon first learned abt the not-them the mythology of changelings was mentioned #and there are many historical theories about changelings including: neurodivergent children being rejected #and also mothers with untreated post-partum depression #BOTH of these theories are relevant to My Life so yes i AM projecting at the not-them #do i hate the not-them for what it did to sasha? yes absolutely #do i think it deserves a similar horrifying fear trauma backstory as the various horrible monstrous fear avatars? ummm yeah #'it's just awful bcos it's a monster' will never be a satisfying narrative for me. let it have a sympathetic angle AND be horrible and hated #(pls note this is different from jonah fucking magnus who is horrible not bcos he's a fear monster #but bcos he's an upper-class man from the days of the british empire who's still trying to rule the world)

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beerecordings · 4 years

Text

Poison - Chapter Seven

Part 1 l Part 2 l Part 3 l Part 4 l Part 5 l Part Six

Hi guys! Though this is the last plot-heavy section of the story, there will be an epilogue to tie up loose ends :) Hope you enjoy this final section! It has been a long ride with maximum whump haha. Thank you for reading.

Trigger warnings for hospitalization, needles, death threats, traumatic flashbacks, and mild eye trauma.

I’ll post a last-chapter summary later because I just posted chapter six but be sure to read that before you read this one :)

It was easy, honestly, once the doctor was shaken up.

He didn't have to be Anti or Chase. Anyone could have seen that Henrik was a mess, all trembling hands and reddened eyes and grieving, guilty, heart-broken mouth. Poor little doctor, aww. And he'd been waiting for an opportunity for days.

He considered riling him up more, but Henrik only gets stiff and scared and frozen when too much is going on, so he soothed him instead, pretending to wake up warm and sleepy and whimpering for his big brother, begging to be unrestrained just for a few minutes, please. Desperate for good news and aching for one of his best friends, Henrik quickly abandoned caution in the hopes of comforting Chase.

And he let himself be held for a moment, and Henrik was warm and soft and comforting, and he cannot deny that he liked it for the time he let it last – the smell of coffee and soap, the hot pressure of another body, the familiarity of human skin.

But he had more important things to do than this.

He held Henrik's throat until he passed out and sedated him in an act of vengeance, exchanging clothes and leaving Henrik tied up and unconscious on the bed where he had been trapped for days.

He could have hurt him further. He should have hurt him further. He should have killed him.

But he did not.

Where are we going? He asks himself, trying to keep his wavering legs steady enough to walk without drawing suspicion. What will we do?

I'm not sure. Should we just go?

We could.

But I don't want to.

Why not?

There's – things to stay for?

Don't go getting fucking attached.

He loved me.

We should cut them out.

What do you mean? The magician?

Yes, cut him out, because we keep thinking about it, thinking – oh, he loved me.

If we're cutting him out we should cut all of them out.

We should have killed the doctor.

Yes.

Let's kill the magician at least.

He called me amata.

Shut the fuck up!

But there's a sensation now, one he's hated as long as he can remember, and he must stop to put his hand against the wall and cover his eyes, biting down on a groan. It feels like his blood is trying to separate from his bones.

He loved me...

Be quiet. My brain is turning against me. Where's his room, do you think?

Ask the receptionist.

But we look like his doctor. We ought to know.

Tell her we heard he'd been moved without our permission and we need to check which room he's in.

Good, yes. The accent...

We can do it, but the magician – my brother –

Stop! Just – if we can do the accent, fine, just come on. I need to make this confusion stop, now.

“Clara!” Thank God for her nametag. “Did they move my brother out of his room? Where is he now?”

Haha, you're so bad at it!

He's so bad at it too so it doesn't matter!

Hahaha.

They come back together under the amusement of it and his bones settle.

“Oh, no, Dr. S, looks like he's still in Room 413. Did you change your hair?”

The fake Henrik rushes away before he can be forced to answer, heading toward the elevator. He's up and about, yes, but he's still much too weak from the drugs and the week of rest to take any stairs.

He gets a few weird looks from nurses on the stairs, but that could also just be because he's Schneep.

I don't – I don't think I want to do this.

Be quiet. Be quiet. Be quiet.

I don't think we want to do this!

There's only one of us! Just be quiet!

“Hey, are you alright?” someone asks him.

“Just leave me alone,” he snarls, leaning against the wall of the elevator as his skin threatens to tears away from his muscles and his skull splits down the center. “Just leave me alone.”

They back off and the elevator falls silent.

I'm doing this. I'm doing what I have to do. There's only me and I'm doing what I have to to ease the pull between us. Now hush and get ready. We won't have much time before Jackie comes.

Jackie... he loved me...

Anti grips his head, furious and despairing, and bites on his tongue until blood wells. It’s time to cut these feelings out of their shared chest before they are both destroyed.

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

“So, as you can see here,” explains Dr. Corrin warmly, holding up some pictures of his brain. “It's in the language-producing center of your brain over here, called Broca's area, which is why you're having difficulty with both spoken language and sign. As a bit of good news, aphasia is something patients often recover from even without speech therapy, though there may be some lasting difficulty in finding the right word, and it's possible the aphasia could give you problems for up to a year. You're already speaking again, though, which is excellent news. And you're having no comprehension difficulties?”

Marvin shakes his head slowly, stroking Jameson's hair.

“That's good.” She keeps her voice soft to let his little brother sleep. “I know this must be hard right now, but I have high hopes you'll make a near-full recovery. There is some other minor brain damage around the same area, but as long as you don't notice any significant impacts on your day-to-day life, I think our best option is letting the brain do what it does best and find new pathways to keep you going. Are they any questions you're able to communicate with me just now?”

He hums sleepily. “Ssssshhh,” he manages, his mouth sliding on the word like it's waiting for more to be there. “My? My?”

“Schneeplestein?” She notices him looking at her coat and badge. Marvin smiles, pleased he's managed to get his point across.

“I'll ask him to come see you soon, okay?” she says, smiling back at him, and he nods his head and lets her get up to go.

The room falls quiet again without her, but he doesn't mind. His pain medication is up nice and high again and after the scary part of the night everything became warm and pleasant again.

He's drifting when the door opens.

“Shhh,” he calls again, happy with the sight of his white coat and glasses. “Pi.”

He reaches out for the book, setting it on his lap over his card pack and waiting for his little brother to come over and read to him.

But one step, two – it is not Henrik standing closer to him.

For a moment, Marvin thinks it's Jack.

Then the syringe comes out of his pocket.

Marvin does not quake or shrink in on himself. His eyes fix on the needle. He looks back up at his little brother.

Anti – Chase – his eyes are unreadable, full of something Marvin does not recognize in blue eyes.

But it doesn't scare him.

“Amata,” he whispers, smiling. “Here.”

“Shut up,” he snarls, rounding the bed, and it is only when he approaches Jameson that Marvin begins to feel afraid. “I'm going to kill you.”

Marvin shakes his head and Jamie's shoulder. JJ comes awake with a snuffle, rubbing at his face as he looks up, and then, before his eyes can even widen in alarm, Anti has grabbed him by the throat.

It is, perhaps, a sad fact of Jameson's life that this is not the first time in his life he has woken up with Anti about his throat, but it is the first time he's woken up with Anti about his throat and a brother high on morphine in the hospital bed beside him, and the terror Marvin sees in his eyes is as clear and as deep as the burn of light in the bulb of an angler fish. But if Henrik freezes up and Marvin becomes careful and reasoning, Jameson's reaction to a sudden attack is exactly what Jackie always hoped it would be – fucking fight.

Marvin would like to tell you he helped – that he screamed, that he thought to press the call button, that he threw something, anything. Marvin would like to tell you he even watched. But the truth is that the moment he saw Jameson rear back with a knife drawn from his coat pocket and Anti recoiling to meet him in battle, he was back in chains and convulsions, watching Anti kill Cottonmouth in his little brother's body.

“Darling,” he wails, once, twice, because he cannot even cry his name. “Darling!”

He hides his face and curls in on himself on the hospital bed, holding his shoulders, trying to breathe. Cottonmouth crumples into her own blood in front of him and he pushes his palms hard into his eyes and groans, gritting his teeth.

“Anti,” he whispers. “Chase. Don't.”

But when he hears the thud of a body slamming into the ground, he knows it isn't Anti.

For a moment, there's only Anti's breathing and the shaking of his own heart in his chest. He peers out of his fingers, needing to know if JJ is alive, but all he can see is his little brother's face turned away from him on the tiles of the floor, still.

Anti stalks forward and grabs him.

To his credit, Marvin does not scream or sob even as his flashback near consumes him. He clings furtively to Chase's hands and closes his eyes. The rapid thudding of his heart suddenly stops registering on the heart monitor as Anti manipulates the tech. The nurses won't notice anything wrong.

“What did you wake up in me?” hisses his brother, pushing him down hard against the hospital bed. Needles shift in Marvin's body and he whimpers. “Why are you all making me feel a thousand different things? This is worse than I first melded into this fucking flesh.”

Marvin breathes in, out. Trying to stay steady. Trying to stay steady.

“Look at me,” snarls Anti.

Marvin does not. Marvin does not open his eyes.

“Look at me,” screams Chase.

“Hear you,” warns Marvin in a croak, sliding open his eyes and glaring up at him even as tears run down his cheeks.

“Stop crying,” he answers, his face darkening with frustration. “Stop!”

The needle of a syringe leaps up in his hand and presses into Marvin's throat. He closes his eyes again and lets it sink against the first layer of his flesh, threatening to go deeper.

“Too high to be afraid of me? Huh? Is that it? I'll make you fucking beg.”

Marvin almost laughs. If this isn't terror – if the memory of being hung up in those chains as the poison coursed through him isn't real terror – he doesn't know what is. But Anti's hands reach out to adjust his drug dose and Marvin's heart drops with his morphine levels. Almost immediately, he feels the effects. It's like his skin, his body, his heart has become real again, real in a world much colder than he remembers. He's being recreated. This is what it feels like, isn't it?

Cosmic and mortal at the same time, his atoms are flung into arrangement after long years of drifting, and he is a tree raised from the earth, suddenly standing, suddenly bodied, suddenly aware and alive and staring at the world.

Drifting, confused, scared. Yeah, he remembers. This is what it feels like to be created.

He just doesn't remember it hurting this much.

He doesn't remember anything ever hurting this much, because he's been trying not to think about what happened to him that day on those chains, and oh, oh, oh, it's here with him again now.

The needle presses deeper into his throat. He can hear Anti – no, Chase, his Chase, his Chase in pain – breathing harshly above him, trying to make himself do it.

“Don't feel guilty,” he hears himself sob.

“What?”

He clings to his wrists. He clings, clings, clings to his little brother's wrists. Amata, amata, Chase, the only word left on his mouth, the only thing left that matters, his heart, his heart.

“I love you.”

Aphasia, or the inability to produce language, is not an uncommon result of brain damage. An interesting fact about this condition, however, is that, at times, while it may be impossible for a person to form the sentences or words they'd like to say, it may well be possible for them to recite memorized or familiar phrases. For example, someone might not be able to express their congratulations to a family member on their birthday, but when everyone begins singing “happy birthday,” they are able to join in just as loud and as clearly as anyone else.

There are phrases Marvin knows. There are recitations imprinted on his heart. And if you had told him that a week ago, he would have laughed and made fun of you, because, as he would assure you, that is much too soft for him, but this is not a week ago.

This is now. His kidneys have failed twice. He was tortured for three hours straight. His little brother has been missing for six months and now, here he is.

It is Anti also, or somewhat, or sort of, or something, but Marvin has never known Anti beyond legends and a battle or two, and what he sees – what he feels, what he hears, what he smells – this is Chase, Chase with his sad, lovely eyes, Chase with hair that goes gold in the right light, Chase with this bizarre and ever-present vanilla smell on his tired palms, Chase, Chase, Chase.

Marvin is laughing before he knows why, laughing as Anti tries to put the needle in his neck.

“I love you better than stars and suns,” he recites, his own spells, his own poetry. “I would like to make a constellation of you, stella amata, beloved, my heart. Blue eyes, brother. Amata, I'm here. Amata, I'm here. Come lie down with me. I love you. Chase, do you want to come with me? Just breathe deep. What can I do to help? Are you with me? I know how hard you're trying, I know you're doing your best.”

A litany of remembered things, left over from every time Marvin has comforted him or been comforted by him. A litany of their brotherhood.

“Stop,” he cries.

Marvin begins to quote in earnest. Brothers and songwriters and authors.

“You are my sunshine, my only sunshine. Stay with me, my brother. Here I am. I can't lose you. The weather would be just right, requiring a light sweater mornings and evenings, and something short-sleeved midday.”

“You're just babbling,” he howls, pressing him down bodily into that hospital bed, until they are chest-to-chest but for the book on Marvin's chest and the cards beneath it. Marvin's head is clearing again the longer he looks at it. He knows he needs to try and speak on his own again. He knows he needs to try and save him. His brother. His Chase.

“Scared,” he whispers, touching his cheek, and he groans and ducks his head, holding that needle against his throat in a trembling hand. “I know. Scared.”

“No... No, I'm not s-scared...”

Marvin could sing for Chase's stammer. He caresses his beard, dark and unkempt. His free hand traces down his own chest, careful.

“Don't feel guilty,” he murmurs, reaching back to touch his hair, to stroke his head like he had Jamie's only minutes before. “If pain. Me, darling.”

“You should be worrying about yourself, not us!” he shrieks. “We're not going to feel guilty for killing you! I'm not! And I'll, I'll... I'll take the black and white one with me again! Yes! Our baby brother! And he'll quiet all this noise! I won't feel alone anymore!”

“Not feel alone anymore,” whispers Marvin, tears hot and red on his cheeks, from the pain, from the fear, from the love of him. “Not alone.”

“I'll make it stop, I'll make it stop.” He is shaking his head back and forth above him and they both know he does not believe himself. “We have to make it stop, we just want – I just want – ”

“Chase,” whispers Marvin. “Cast him out.”

“I c-can't!”

“Yes, Chase. Yes.”

“No, I can't, I've tried, I've tried! For months, Marvin, for months, I tried so hard, I did. I wanted so badly to come home to all of you.”

Marvin sobs and clings to his face, his free hand finally reaching his card pack.

“I was so scared, I just want this to stop, we both do!”

“Cast him out. Cast him out. You – you are my sunshine, I'm here, stella amata, the weather would be just right... Chase, here, here.”

“Marvin!” cries Chase. “Please, please help me.”

“No, stop,” shouts something else beneath his skin.

“It hurts!” they both shriek, falling slightly away from the bed.

Marvin grabs their hand.

For a moment, Chase and Anti both stare at him, and there is a silence and an ocean between them, and the world is a rocking, moving thing, and they are anchored together in white palms and white fingers and twin tattoos along their right arms, and they see each other.

“Get the fuck out, Anti,” says Marvin, and he pulls out his King of Hearts and finishes the spell he meant to finish in that basement a week ago.

Light burns between the two of them and they scream as they fall back, their flesh singed by the force of the spell, a black heart scalding into their neck. He – they – whoever and whatever this creature is – trips back over Jameson and falls to the ground beside him.

“Marvin!” Screaming down the hall. “Marvin!”

The door opens and slams into the wall. Jackie does not hesitate even to look around, just pounces towards Anti.

“Stay back!” he screams, scrabbling to his feet and bringing Jameson's body with him, the syringe pressed against his throat. “You stay the fuck away from me!”

“No, you get the fuck away from him,” cries Jackie, teeth snarling. “Let him go. Anti, you're bleeding already. Give up.”

He's right. He realizes with a start that blood is tracing its way down his cheek, bleeding from his eye. Or – is it blood? It's dark as ink.

“Big brother,” croaks Marvin. “Careful, careful.”

“I'm here, Marvelous, I'm here. Anti, stop!”

He's maneuvering toward the door. With JJ in his arms, unconscious and pressed against that needle, Jackie doesn't know what to do to stop him. His first instinct is tackling, as it always is, but that might not end well.

“I've got a tracker on JJ,” says Jackie. Well, he's got his location on on his phone, anyway. “If you try to take him or any of my brothers away again, I'll find you.”

Anti bites his teeth at him, standing in the doorway with JJ slumped across his chest. He can hear more people coming. He's sure Jackie brought security.

But those are the least of his problems right now.

The sensation of his bones and his blood separating, of his skin peeling off from his flesh, of his heart pulsing to get out of his chest, of something being wrong inside him, of something needing to escape every cuticle of his flesh –

This is worse than it's ever been.

He turns his head, and, when he is sick, something black is leaking out of his mouth.

What is this? What's happening? He did something to me!

That's... you? Isn't it? The real you. Without me.

He slams Marvin's door shut behind him and drops Jameson in front of it, shoving him against the crack beneath the wood to slow Jackie, turning to sprint down the hall.

No, please, we can't run. I'm so tired...

Stop fucking whining!

His gait stumbles and he falls, crashing hard to the ground and drawing startled gasps all around him before he can get up again, throwing himself into a closing elevator. He shares a tense elevator ride with a terrified-looking twelve-year-old who won't take her gaze off his own bleeding eyes, trying to get his breath back before sprinting back out of the elevator and into the world.

Please, I want to go back to my brothers! I want my brothers to look after me! I think we can get separate again, please!

But he isn't listening to the voice inside his head right now.

His bones are splitting. His nerves are unraveling. Inside his head, neurons don't know which way to go.

He's coming apart. And when it's over, he doesn't think he'll have a body anymore.

He's afraid.

He runs.

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

Jackie knows where to go.

Jameson is bleeding heavy from the shoulder and his neck is blue with bruising. Jackie heaves him up in his arms and deposits his little brother gently in the bed beside Marvin's, checking for the pulse of his heart beneath his injured throat before turning to race after Anti. He hollers something about nurses, security, cops. Doesn't know what. They're safe here. Jameson and Marvin and Henrik will be looked after. They have to be. What matters now is Chase.

And he knows where to go. Jamie showed him.

He sprints down the street, down the pavement, panting hard, his body working like a machine, his feet pounding sturdy and swift against the concrete. People pass to let him go. Perhaps they can see the ferocity in his face.

He lost Chase once. Last week, he lost Marvin. All his life, his family has come and gone, through kidnappings and comas, imprisonment and loss. But today?

Today he brings his brothers home.

He picks up his pace and the wind makes way for him too. Today, he will not be late.

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

His gait slows.

His gaits slows to a snail crawl.

He staggers

He staggers away from the building.

Lights burn around him in horrible gold and white, stinging against his aching eyes.

He can hear a low, desperate keening –

“Marvin... Marvin... Marvin...”

Over and over again.

That's not his voice, is it?

He's pretty sure he's the one groaning. He's pretty sure he's the one everyone's staring at, pausing on the pavement to call out in concern and whisper.

He's pretty sure he's covered in somebody else's blood.

His brain has turned to mush as everything inside him tears about and he no longer knows where he's running. Hot tears course down his cheeks. He clutches at his shirt and realizes he's aching for something soft to hold. A hand, a warm body, or maybe just a plush seal toy squished into a stuffie pancake.

“My baby,” he hears that distant, familiar voice whisper. “Hunter... my son...”

He has no child. He has no family. He is what remains and what remains is all that there is.

A sting cuts through his neck again and he screams, staggering against the cold wall of an alleyway. Something is in his blood! He can feel it! Poison, poison!

“What is happening to me?” he screams. “Something's inside of me! Marvin! Marvin! Marvin!”

He wants his big brother. He wants his big brother right now.

There is no big brother, there is no one left that he loves, if Marvin were to show his face to him he'd drive a knife into his heart and put a bullet through his skull just for good measure!

The sting pierces through him. The hot burn of something purer than his tainted blood. He is sobbing, heaving, sinking down beside a garbage can in a dirty alleyway beside a road to towards the hospital, wrapping his arms around himself. When did he get so skinny? When did he forget so much of himself? He can't even remember his name – a C? An H? An A?

Marvin spoke it. Marvin spoke it like it was the only word left that mattered. Marvin loved him.

I won't be thrown out of this flesh now! This body belongs to me! This body is me! I don't... what happens if I'm torn apart?

“A – Anti,” stammers his aching mouth. “Anti.”

“That name no longer means anything.” He is alone. He speaks to himself. They speak to each other. “Do we really have to go back to struggling?”

“I feel like I'm always struggling... I can't remember...”

“We don't need to remember. I have you and you have me. There is nothing left of the man you once were. If we could just settle down again!”

“P-poison... you are a poison... Marvin is sending you out...”

The pain lances through his ribs, spreading out across his body. He wails as the hurt only grows and grows, hyperventilating against the cool metal of the dumpster.

“You stole me from them!” he screams, trying to think. “I was going – I was going to see my child! My children! You stole me away from my children! From my brothers! Marvin! Marvin!”

Quiet. Something hateful and commanding arises in his head for the first time in weeks and he chokes, grabbing at his hair. I spliced you into myself once already. I will do it again. Marvin is gone and his magic was weak. You are alone with me. And if someone is leaving this body, then I will be the one to drive you out, Chase. This could kill me. I need to be separated but what if it kills me? What if I die here?

“You're... scared...”

“Chase!” someone shouts. “Chase!”

And then Jackie is there, Jackie is there, Jackie is holding him.

“Please,” he begs, he sobs, he wails; he writhes against Jackie's arms, struggles with him on the cold cement of the alleyway. “Please, it burns me!”

“Let Anti burn away,” he pants, only holding him tighter, only holding him tighter the harder he struggles. “Let Anti burn away. Come back to me. Come back home. I never meant to let you go. I'm sorry. It's me, it's Jackie. You have to remember who you are.”

Jackie smells like home. Pressed into his sweatshirt, Chase can hear again every word that Marvin spoke to him, can feel the touch of Jameson's forgiving body wrapped around his own, can see Henrik looking after him even though it terrified him.

“You know who you are,” whispers Jackie, sinking down to the pavement with him, holding him, careful with the heart-shaped burn singed into his neck. “Come back to me.”

We discover who we are in many ways. Perhaps most of all, we see ourselves in the love we have for others. In the way we love, in the fierceness with which we do. Chase knows himself, yes, after long months. He can see himself in the way Jackie is holding him and in the way he hugs him back, clinging to his brother's sweatshirt, burying his face against his chest.

Trusting his family to save him.

He is terribly ill for long minutes, sick and convulsing as the poison leaves him. Jackie's shirt soaks with the most horrible black ink. It won't come out in the wash. He doesn't care. Chase is here.

“I've got you,” he says, holding one-fourth of the world in his arms. “I've got you. I won't let him take you away again.”

The black ink runs down the brick of the alleyway where Jameson was standing a few days past with his little tray of hospital food. He knew this place would be important. He knew they would have to come here again.

Chase shudders, cries, stills against his chest.

Jackie looks down and sees the blackness creeping together as though magnetic on the brick, and then it is rising, it is forming, it is standing; it is Anti.

His face is drizzling so much black ink he can hardly keep his simulated body together, slumped and staggering, hollow and dazed. His eyes are dead. Jackie has never seen him stand still for so long.

His head rises, exhausted, and he does not breathe or move or speak a word. He only looks at Jackie. The blackness drips off of him – plink. Plink. Plink.

Jackie holds Chase. Jackie stares at him.

Anti closes his eyes and his mouth, and he lifts his hand to his chin, and then draws it away again in one of the first words of sign language Jackie ever learned.

Thank you.

Jackie should get up and hurt him. Jackie should find a way to hurt him. Jackie should kill him.

He doesn't.

The blackness collapses back into liquid. A rat scatters by. Anti's essence fills the squeaking animal up and, a moment later, they are both slipping away down the drain together, leaving nothing but drips of inky blood on the red brick behind them.

Jackie pulls Chase slightly away from himself to look at his little brother. Dazed and still bleeding sluggishly from the eyes, Chase can only snuffle and blink thick and slow, his eyes half-way closed, clinging to Jackie's shirt.

“I got you, Chaser,” whispers Jackie, slipping his arms beneath him. Chase sighs sleepily and wraps his arms around Jackie's chest as he is lifted into his arms, pressing his face against his brother's warm chest. “I got you. And I won't let you go again.”

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

A white

room.

White lights. White bedsheets. White brothers, haha. Marvin grins. He's on morphine again, but he's still crying by the time he comes to, hot wet tears tracing softly down his face.

“Marvin,” someone whispers.

“Jackie,” his mouth manages, and they share a smile there over the whiteness of the bedsheets, holding each other's hands.

Marvin's eyes drift to the rest of the room. His heart warms like grass in the sun. The bed across from his own is, at last, full.

“Okay?” he asks.

“He will be,” answers Jackie softly. “We'll make sure.”

Just like they always do. Just like they promised each other when they were young. We'll look after them. No matter what it takes.

Marvin looks down at himself.

This, he thinks. This is what it took.

“Hey,” he mumbles, pointing at the clock beside his table. It's 9:03. “Survived... night.”

“Survived the night? Oh. Yeah. That last kidney scare was yesterday. You survived the rest of the night and then the day and then this night too.” Jackie smiles at him. “Sleeping beauty.”

Marvin throws his hair in mock pride for his Aurora-levels of beauty and sends Jackie into a mini giggling fit, bent over his hand and squeezing tight.

“So... okay?” he murmurs, pointing at himself.

“There will be some complications,” says Jackie gently. “With your diet and your speech and your... your mental health, too. But everything's going to turn out alright, Marv. You made it. You're a survivor, Marv. And you helped Chase too.”

Marvin smiles up at him. Jackie praises and reassures, massaging at his palm, his eyes full of warmth. He has to keep quiet, though, because it appears they've gotten into a habit of sleeping in this room – Henrik is at Chase's side, crashed beside his brother's legs, snoring into his knees. Jameson is sitting up in the middle of the two beds, quiet and still, his throat bandaged.

“Darling?” asks Marvin. “Okay?”

JJ turns slowly about. His eyes are bright silver.

“Uh-oh,” says Jackie, reaching out his free hand for him. “Got a trance, looks like. Doing okay, buddy? You with us?”

JJ's mouth quirks dazedly and he nods.

“Good,” says Jackie, reassured. “You're getting a better handle on it already.”

Marvin reaches out his hand for him too and Jamie turns to take it, smiling warmly at him.

“See?” signs Marvin, not quite able to find the words for 'what happens now, Jameson?'

The tilt of his mouth blooms into a full smile.

“I see you, and me, and Jackie, and Chase, and Henrik,” he says.

“Is that all?” asks Jackie.

“No,” says JJ. “But that's all that matters.”

Chase shifts in his sleep and his hand finds Henrik's. All five of them are warm in the hospital room. Outside, the snow falls white and glowing in the morning sun.

#poison #bee writes #writers of jack

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geekgemsspooksandtoons · 4 years

Text

Bioshock Rebirth Timeline

This is a timeline of an AU I’ve had been developing for a long time now. I wanted to get this out there before I got on vacation. Where I’ll will be only able to use my phone to go on Tumblr. Be warned a long introduction.

Bioshock Rebirth is an AU that’s actually a reimagining of the Bioshock series. Basically a reboot of the series. But also in a strange way it’s a, “What If” scenario. The origins of this AU were quite strange and it became this one thing. Where I have admitted I went too far with how deep it was going. There was this passion and me trying to develop it(Such as imagining how it would work as a video game. Even though this is my story). Including I made some stories for it. Along with an ages chart of a lot of characters.

During development I was trying to understand what made Bioshock well Bioshock. Yet make something that seem plausible despite how I considered it insane in it’s early stages.

I’ve been so nervous and shy to share it with the Bioshock community on Tumblr. Because it’s complex, and I’m concerned of what the reactions would be to it. Especially some parts I feel like became quite dark. With this AU I have used elements and characters from the first three games. But the timeline is mainly mostly like Bioshock 1, 2, and taking things from the novel. Despite what some reactions were to that novel.

I looked into the timeline before Infinite made things more messy.

One of the origins for Rebirth it’s supposed to be a more hopeful version of Infinite. A contrast to that game’s ideals and whatever else. Including a weird way to explain how this timeline existed. Because of the incontinences and errors in Bioshock Infinite’s, “Burial At Sea” and the events of Infinite did something to the multiverse. Mainly in a way that despite how Ken Levine tried to erase Bioshock 2 out of canon. Basically, “Burial At Sea” destroyed the timeline and in a way caused a ripple. Thus resulting in a new timeline that is a neighbor to the main universe. A, “Reborn” version of the timeline. Where Rapture was created way later. When the Cold War was still going on.

But this, “Reborn” timeline was made into a more linear timeline. Where characters, and some events were reborn into a new reality. Meaning nearly every character from the first three games were, “Reborn” into one linear timeline. Where the floating city of Columbia isn’t a thing.

While that doesn’t make sense and it’s weird. What’s amazing that during development, some of my Bioshock jokes...became literal. Such as the, “Burial At Sea was a mistake” line. Yet I could say another funny reason was two entities fought over the universe of Bioshock. One being Ken and the other being GeekGem. But I don’t wanna get into that.

I guess you say I feel glad to see many Bioshock fans don’t like Burial At Sea(Especially Bioshock 2 fans) and how Ken wrote it along how he approached Infinite. Glad to see I’m not the only one. In a silly way....Rebirth is a middle finger to Ken trying to rework the timeline. Along with other reasons that it’s amazing I went so deep into this. Basically in retaliation to Burial At Sea, Rebirth was born.

I wanna thank my good friend @pikablob for encouraging me to share this. Because he was the first person where I revealed this in it’s early development stage. But there is one person I really wanna thank but they wish to remain anonymous. A person who had given me ideas and even asked if I could mention them. I am eternally grateful for them helping me develop ideas. Especially to hear from another Bioshock fan who didn’t like BAS and who seemed passionate about the series. Yet they were glad to see I was passionate about the games.

I’ve been concerned with how people would view this and may hate it. But overtime I feel like I made a, “Love Letter” to the Bioshock franchise. Despite some directions I went with. I really like these games, the characters, and this world they live in. Where I really tried to keep them in character as much as possible, how these characters would make sense in this timeline, thinking about the criticisms of Infinite, and other things.

I will admit before making this introduction. One character I wanted to include was Charles Milton Porter from Minerva’s Den. I decided to look into his story and the DLC’s story on the Bioshock wiki. Because this DLC was beloved by the community and I wanted to keep that character and his story intact. But I just wanna post this because I’m done keeping it as a draft. Yet I feel like wanna say compared to this main universe counterpart. Porter is most likely okay. So don’t worry about him. He’s probably still around and fine.

Be warned of spoilers from the Bioshock saga. Including as I am going to reveal the twist behind a character named Archie Wynand. Who’s creation and development process was a weird one. I’m sorry if there are some errors. Was fixing up some stuff before posting this.

1981: Rapture is first established on November 5th 1981. While the rest of the construction of the city is finished in late 1986. Rapture was made to escape the surface especially the affects of the Cold War going on between America and Russia. To make a utopia for the world’s greatest minds and artists.

1983: Earlier that year, Brigid Tenenbaum is welcomed to Rapture because of her status as, “The Wonder Child”. ADAM is finally discovered through the slugs by Brigid. But because of injecting a sample into a volunteer named Annabelle Dewitt, Annabelle dies giving birth and Elizabeth/Anna is born. The girl was unusually healthy that Andrew Ryan convinced a grieving Booker Dewitt to give his kid away for a better life. When in reality Andrew saw something in the girl. Along with Yi Suchong.

During one night, enraged by the loss of his wife. Booker invades Brigid’s apartment, tying and gagging her up with the intention to kill her. Accusing her of killing his wife. But he relents after seeing the woman cry and realizes violence isn’t gonna solve anything.

After this, Booker leaves Rapture without anyone noticing. Later down the line joining the CIA. But during his work in the CIA, being affected by the loss of his wife and giving away his daughter. Booker becomes some what of a apathic psychopath. Which creates a terrible reputation for himself.

Because of what happened with Annabelle, Brigid is turned away from many research facilities. But Frank Fontaine saw the value of her discovery and agreed to fund her research. Including during this, he and Tenenbaum are made aware of Elizabeth’s existence to study her growing up. Including later the Lutece Twins. Mainly to help study the girl. The reason Fontaine also involved with Tenenbaum because she was his employer.

During this process. Brigid gives Elizabeth the last name of Comstock. Because Ryan would feel disgusted if the girl shared the same last name as him.

1986: During the 80′s and 90′s. Elizabeth is placed into a building and her existence is kept a secret. Yet in 1986 when nearing a closing teleporter made by the twins. Her pinky finger is severed.

After this, because of her blood and what happened with the tear. She was able to gain the power to open tears. But because of this incident, her prison becomes less loose and more strict. Such as the twins creating a device to control the use of her powers. During this time, Yi Suchong creates the, “Proto Daddy” to keep her company as her guardian. Which Elizabeth nicknamed him, “Bluto”.

Elizabeth is kept as a secret in case for the possibility in case he hopes it never happens. If Rapture were to fall and soon taken over. Whether it be the, “Parasites” or someone else. Elizabeth is his secret weapon. If she were to be revealed now, Rapture as a society might collapse. Showcasing his lines of, “No gods or kings, only man” as just something he went against.

But in the tower, they keep her there and watch her as she grows up. With Andrew not calling her it instead of her, and Suchong studying her as well.

1988: Elizabeth was the inspiration for the Little Sisters. Which results in Frank Fontaine starting the Little Sisters orphanage.

Elizabeth is basically the, "Proto-Sister" of the Little Sisters.

1995: The UK’s Royal Navy deep sea diver, Sergeant Johnathan Gunnar AKA Johnny Topside finds Rapture by mistake but is captured. He is presumed dead by his government. Johnny is given the freedom to live unless he lives in Rapture which he does. Mainly due to his career as a diver. Now helping as a construction worker to keep the city from falling apart.

Eleanor Lamb is born to Sofia Lamb. Because of during one therapy session she got, ‘acquainted’ with a patient, and had sex while drunk. Sofia refuses to speak about it. Yet she finally has a daughter for her own purposes. The father is unknown at this point.

Because of this and the increase of the Rapture possibly being discovered. Andrew personally sets out to find a someone that has the skills but does not seem to care about anyone else. He finds Booker Dewitt who is now a ex CIA operative due to his increasing rage and violence over the years. The American government thought he was a disgrace.

Andrew see’s this as a opportunity and gives Booker some what of a 2nd chance. To be Andrew’s personal soldier. In case things go south where he may want Booker to take care of any problematic people who apposed Rapture.

Booker became Andrew Ryan’s personal Grim Reaper. With Andrew allowing him to wear a skull mask that looked like the jaws of an Angler Fish. To showcase fear to any of his enemies.

1997 to 1998: Jasmine becomes pregnant by Andrew Ryan. After discovering from the audio recordings of a surveillance device planted in Jasmine’s room. Using Tenenbaum as an intermediary, Fontaine offered to pay Jolene a large sum of money in exchange for the fetus of her unborn child, which he planned to nurture to become his "Ace In The Hole" in his schemes against Ryan. Brigid, Yi, and others were tasked with developing a young Jack Ryan.

The Alpha Big Daddy series is soon made. Inspired by the, “Proto Daddy”. To protect the Little Sisters from getting attacked from people who used ADAM too much. Who were called the Splicers.

Yi Suchong and Gil Alexander were involved in the making of the Alpha series.

Johnny Topside discovers the process about Jack. Including what Frank planned to use the child for.

Johnny risks his own life and future to give the boy a life. Fighting against Frank’s forces and even Andrew’s own men as they think he’s gone against Rapture. Even one time assaulting Yi once to rescue Jack from him.

Due to Brigid’s feeling regret of what she did to the Little Sisters. She secretly helps Johnny by making sure the, “Would you kindly” phrase doesn’t work or any other functions Frank would of used. Including to stop the sped up aging. This was done in a secret safehouse she would use later on. While a pair of twins secretly smuggle Jack out of Rapture. With giving the boy a new name Archie Wynand, a high school diploma, birth certificate, lots of money, and new memories showcasing that he had loving parents who disappeared in the ocean. To make sure he never wonders about Rapture. But also to make sure he is set for life.

The chain tattoos are covered up some how. During this time Jack was only 1 but physically 19 due to the experiments performed on him. Again feeling sympathy over the child and not wanting this to be his fate. Despite never raising a child before.

Johnny also tried to make sure nothing would lead back to Jasmine being Jack’s mother. Worried the woman would get killed if Andrew found out.

But after he is smuggled out by these twins, Johnny is caught. Angered by this, Frank tells Andrew that Johnny was gonna expose Rapture to the whole world. That Johnny finally lost it.

As punishment, Johnny is turned into an Alpha series Big Daddy named Subject Delta. Where his Plasmid testing and more is done by Sinclair.

Afterwards Andrew Ryan soon discovers what Frank was trying to cover up. That he was gonna use his own seed to turn against him. Including when he discovered Frank wanted to sell ADAM to the surface and would smuggle it.

This resulted in one last shootout which left Frank dead. Along with Andrew ordering Booker to show Frank no mercy. Many others thought Frank was dead. But it was all a set up for Frank to disguise himself as a new person named Atlas.

Surprisingly the concept of Atlas was also inspired by Johnny Topside himself. Despite Atlas would be of Irish decent and other things.

During late 1998, Atlas would soon start becoming a public figure to the poorer citizens of Rapture. Posing as a fisherman, proletariat hero, and a family man. To act as a humble freedom fighter to who would stand up to Ryan and his colleagues. Along with the bonus that Atlas was originally in the Irish Army for some time.

But because of what Johnny Topside did. Frank’s original, “Ace In The Hole” was gone. His original plan that was so perfect was ruined. His personal slave was lost and broken now. Now things have to start over.

Yet there was one last thing he could of used. Something he knew for a long time. Elizabeth, if he could use her for his own purposes. She was born with ADAM in her, and able to create these tears. He would become unstoppable. But now he has to take it slow and steady.

Because of her new found heart after what she did to the Little Sisters. Yet this also caused Frank to fire her earlier. Brigid wanted to help rescue the Little Sisters. Yet after her renunciation of the Little Sister orphanage. She was called a madwoman by the public and hid from the public eye.

She secretly has a safe house for any rescued Little Sisters. Which she has also made a living space for herself. Because living in her apartment would be considered too dangerous. But also because of her new found heart and living with the guilt for many years. Brigid feels responsible for Elizabeth’s predicament. Wanting to save and take care of her like she was with her little ones. Despite she can’t get to that tower now considering how well guarded she is. Along with Brigid’s reputation was destroyed at the time.

Throughout 1998 and to 2002. Because thinking his parents were gone. Archie was a loner and an introvert. He had no family to live with. Yet it was because of Johnny’s kindness and the memory that his thought to be dead parents left an lasting impact on him. Making Archie a tender and genuine kind person.

Archie joined the 75th Ranger Regiment in respect of his father and to help people in need. He joined in late 1998. Passing his testing and training with unseen excellence than other people. This was because of what the testing did to him as a child.

Because Frank wanted Jack to become the ultimate killing machine. To make sure when the time came, Jack would of been ready to take on Rapture when he activated him. Thus in a way making Jack some what of a living weapon.

Something that even his commanders were so shocked at his excellence that they questioned if he was human. With some of them being strangely terrified that he never showed attitude, never showed off, or anything that a normal rookie would of done. Nearly everyone treated with him respect despite their disbelief that any human can train like that.

When joining the US Army Rangers, this enhanced Archie’s status as a weapon. Thus making him even more of a force of nature. Reserving his extreme emotions but not becoming emotionless. At the age of 21, he became a sergeant.

Because of Johnny, Jack now as Archie became more than Frank would of ever done for him.

Archie became a force of nature. Unbreakable, raw, incorruptible, loyal to a fault, and unyielding. What was supposed to be a sleeper agent became a legitimate super soldier.

Yet despite all that. Archie was an outcast.

Despite Brigid trying to make sure his original programming didn’t work. If, “Would you kindly” was said to him. His head would start hurting. Almost like a migraine or headache. If the phrase was said more. His mindset would start getting worse. Starting to remember things and being confused of what’s going on.

Seeing things such as faces, including Andrew Ryan, Frank Fontaine, and other things.

The, “Code Yellow” command was still intact. Yet more raw now if it was mentioned. Because Yi and Fontaine only knew about it.

1998 to 2001: Atlas begins to start giving the poorer citizens of Rapture a voice. The tensions between the social classes begin to rise. Including with ADAM becoming more of a problem now due to addiction. Especially with later down the line Ryan nationalizing Fontaine Futuristics. Which causes Bill to resign. But afterwards, Atlas convinces Bill to join his rebellion in secret.

2000 to 2001: Sofia Lamb was arrested after Ryan finds out she is a Collectivist and spreading her beliefs to people in Rapture. Eleanor Lamb was put in the care of Grace Holloway. But after finding out Stanley Poole was a spy for Andrew Ryan. He had Eleanor kidnapped and turned into a Little Sister. She spent time in the Little Sister Orphanage and was under the care of Dr. Gil Alexander. She is later paired with Subject Delta. They form the first pair bond between Little Sister and Big Daddy.

Over time the pair bond between the Alpha series and Little Sisters worked too well. If a Little Sister were to die. The remaining Alpha Big Daddy would be left to be aggressive. Because of this, it was decided to go for a more generic, but versatile route for the protectors for the Little Sisters.

Which results in the creations of other Big Daddies such as the Bouncer and Rosie models. That were still construction workers. But now having to protect a Little Sister. The pairing process was different. With now adopting being a thing.

But also during this time. Sinclair started to realize the error of his ways and tried to better himself. Especially with Rapture slowly falling apart.

Charles Milton Porter is framed by Reed Wahl with a recording of Porter siding with Atlas. Porter comes up with a back up plan if he were to become a Big Daddy and manages to message Brigid before being taken away. Who was the only person Brigid could safely come into contact with because they are good friends.

2002: On New Year’s Eve, Atlas leads an attack that starts the Rapture Civil War. Which also scars Diane who after some time joins Atlas and his cause. Including Daisy Fitzroy joins as well. Becoming in a way Atlas’s 2nd in command.

Yet also during this, Sofia Lamb a month earlier escapes prison during an uprising. To finally get Eleanor away from Delta. Which she succeeds in doing so. Yet during this, Sofia discovers the original WYK plans and the experiments of speeding up a child's age. Which she plans to use on Eleanor and any Little Sisters she may catch. But for what she thinks is the common good.

But during this because he no longer has Jack. Frank no longer has a back up plan. Andrew is winning this civil war. The city is slowly falling apart. While some areas are still populated. Other parts of the city have gone dark. Making them a paradise for Splicers. Despite some Splicers and others would get into more better areas.

In June 2002, Atlas becomes desperate that he decides to make a distress call to the surface. His plan is to trick anyone that would come into helping him into rescuing Elizabeth and taking over Rapture. With making false promises to call the US government to take in Andrew Ryan and anything else.

In Georgia, the Army Rangers get the distress call and are deployed quickly. When their aircraft gets near the location. They are confused it’s in the middle of the ocean but there’s a mysterious lighthouse.

Seeing this, Andrew fires down the aircraft using a special heat seeking missile that can be fired from the city. This causes the aircraft to crash and there is only one survivor.

Surprisingly for Atlas and others by chance. That survivor was his original, “Ace In The Hole” Jack. Now known as Sergeant Archie Wynand.

The story of Bioshock Rebirth happens. Which results in Archie finding out who he really is. Along with other things. Leading up to Archie killing a half ADAM powered Atlas/Frank Fontaine by stabbing him in the chest with a syringe to suck the ADAM out of him. Then hanging him from a roof. Ultimately killing Effectively ending the Rapture Civil War once and for all.

During this, Sofia’s influence becomes stronger. With, “The Rapture Family” slowly rising in power and to make Eleanor, “The People’s Daughter”. As of now because of the sped up aging, Eleanor is 17 years old.

After the events of Bioshock Rebirth. The Vox Populi are formed. A reformation of what Atlas had done.

Two months later in August 2002.

Rapture is in a better state. With the Vox trying to make it in a better place to live in. With a community that would help each other. But Andrew Ryan has gone into hiding and is nowhere to be found. While the Vox led by Daisy Fitzroy and Bill Mcdonagh try to capture and find certain people in Rapture to emprison them. Such as Yi Suchong, Booker Dewitt, Sander Cohen, and whoever else considered to be a criminal that doesn’t wanna change.

Including during these events, Subject Delta is brought back to life by Eleanor through the help of the Little Sisters. With also Eleanor contacting Brigid to help aid in undoing the psychological conditioning imprinted imprinted in Delta’s mind when he was a Big Daddy. The plan works well and Delta meets Brigid and others.

Soon, Sofia does a hostile takeover a Rapture. With, “The Rapture Family” and the, “Vox Populi” going to war. But the Big Sisters turn the tide of it. With the Vox’s secret weapons being Sgt. Archie Wynand, Elizabeth Comstock, and Subject Delta.

Sofia demonizes Delta but also calling Archie, “The Demon Of Rapture” because of his actions and his own birth. Because most people in Rapture know of his existence as, “The Prodigal Son”. Sofia worries Archie may influence Eleanor. But realizes later on, it’s Delta she needs to worry about.

Sofia has the support of Grace Holloway(Who then joins the Vox after realizing who Archie really is and seeing Delta isn’t a monster), Stanley Poole, Gil Alexander(Who is now possibly Alex The Great), but also Ava Tate. A seductive woman who made propaganda films for Andrew Ryan. Along with being one of Sander Cohen’s colleagues. But also Sofia’s right hand woman.

But because of Sofia’s hostile takeover. Because of the old programming. Archie starts seeing hallucinations of Atlas using his Irish accent. Haunting the young man and trying to get him to certain things. Such as killing Suchong and Sofia Lamb when he shouldn’t. Or other things that weren’t exactly right.

This is because the PTSD is finally catching up to Archie.

During this because Little Sisters were running low. A Big Sister was able to go to the sister and take some girls away from the surface. Which leads a man named Mark Meltzer to search for his daughter. But also the surface possibly may try to search for Rapture. Considering now little girls who going missing.

After a exhausting journey to get Eleanor back. Because of Delta’s kindness to not kill but save the Big Sisters. When they sense him being in danger after Sofia suffocates Eleanor. They come back and attack Sofia’s base of operations. Saving Elizabeth, Brigid, Daisy, other Little Sisters, Archie, Delta, and Eleanor.

Even after everything she’s done and Rapture being almost revealed to the surface. Eleanor lets Sofia live so can begin a long road of redemption. Despite how others may look at it differently. Delta lives, and Archie with the help of Elizabeth, Brigid, and even Eleanor and Delta. The Atlas hallucination that has been haunting him is gone that week is gone.

A week after the events. They manage to find Subject Sigma and help him get back the Thinker from Reed Wahl. With Subject Sigma finding out he was Charles Milton Porter and later on letting go of his late wife Pearl. With Porter being turned back to normal. While Delta is a tricky situation.

It is likely afterwards. Despite helping Rapture becoming a livable place again. Archie and others may of gone back to the surface for a while. But they can visit Rapture still.

But during the ending part of the Rapture Family vs the Vox Populi. Ava Tate had escaped to the surface. While Stanley Poole was later killed by Booker Dewitt.

#bioshock #bioshock rebirth #bioshock au #archie wynand

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the-pav-archive · 5 years

Text

Magicae Aqua- Magic User!Male Reader X Merman!Tomura Shigaraki

I know I’m a few weeks late for Mermay, but I wanted to get something done- Anyways, enjoy this little bit! It doesn’t make a ton of sense, but oh well Word Count: 3,043

Tomura Shigaraki hated the humans.

He hated that they took his family away from him. He hated that they so carelessly dumped things into his waters. He hated that they took all of his things.

And he hated that they were so easy to fall for.

Every few decades, a human would pique his interest. They’d have that spark that drew him in like crustaceans to an angler fishes lure. He’d invest his whole heart in them, and then they’d vanish just like that- Off with some other human, or too involved in themselves to even pay him any mind.

So he decided that he’d refuse to love them any more.

If he found a human that he had taken a liking to, he’d kill them.

And with tentacles as dangerous as he had, it was easy. He’d just have to pull them into the water, wrap one around their neck, and let his toxins do the rest. They’d be gone within a minute- Left to the scavengers and other creatures of the sea. He could take his time to admire the body if he really wanted to. Building the reputation of a killer amongst those in your environment helped sometimes.

It was a particularly bright night when he spotted his next target through the murky waters. They left a stream of bubbles behind them as they sunk into the water, swimming downwards too fast for him to take note of what they looked like for the moment. His tentacles undulated as he silently approached the figure, just barely floating above a rock as he observed them.

His clothing floated around him a bit, occasionally exposing smooth (S/C) skin as he rooted around in the water a bit. (E/C) eyes held a look of focus in them as he worked, and an excited gleam filled them when he seemed to have found what he was looking for. His legs kicked as he went a little bit deeper in the water, and he reached one hand up briefly to sweep his (H/C) hair back. Trails of bubbles left his lips, and he briefly looked around for a moment, eyes widening to an almost dramatic point when he noticed the jellyfish that was watching him. Almost immediately he ‘dropped’ what was in his other hand- several smooth, round rocks- taking just a brief moment to just observe before he did some kind of intricate hand movement, glowing lines crossing and swirling around his body as his lips moved. And just seconds later, he shot straight up through the water.

And thus began the game of pursuit. Tomura’s eyes lit up with an almost cruel light as he shot upwards as well, laughs leaving his lips and creating a tiny stream of bubbles.

The chase was always the fun part. Watching the fear in his target’s eyes as they try to get away, the horror in their expression when those tentacles wrap around their neck…..

It was glorious.

The surface was fast approaching, waves crashing up above and creating a spectacle of dark and light above. Tomura was within an arm’s reach of the man he was pursuing, and his grin grew even wider as he surged forwards, wrapping his hand around the man’s ankle and pulling tightly. The glowing lines surrounding the man abruptly disappeared, and he looked down, eyes widening. A stream of bubbles escaped his lips in a scream, and he spoke, voice able to be heard as clear as day. “Get the hell off of me!” His foot kicked, and he pushed upwards with his arms, fighting to get lose. The merman was taken aback by this a bit, and his grip loosened just enough for the man to be able to escape. And within seconds he was gone and out of the water. A low growl of sorts seemed to rumble in the back of Tomura’s throat, and he approached the surface, looking upwards.

The man that had escaped his grasp looked down at him from a rock ledge that hung over the water, panting heavily as he watched the merman in the water. He even backed up a bit, back resting against the rock face as he steadied himself a bit.

“Who are you to think that you can come into my waters and take whatever you want?” Tomura asked, eyes narrowing as that raspy voice left his lips. It had been a while since he had spoken above the surface of the water, and he realized another reason why he hated the humans so much- They had to breath this toxic air to even talk.

“And who are you to think that you own the entire ocean?” The man replied, frown gracing his lips as he gripped the rock ledge. “The waters are a place for everyone, sir.” There was a bit of a sarcastic bite in his voice as he continued to speak, reaching one hand up to run through his hair.

Tomura seemed taken aback by this response as well, and that growl rumbled in his throat once again. “I’ll tear your throat out if you step into these waters again.”

“Well, then you’d be killing one of the only things keeping you and your environment in the state it is right now.” The man sneered in reply. “So if you want the other humans to kill you and your domain off, then go right ahead, Jelly boy.”

Deep red eyes narrowing again, Tomura’s expression was still rather suspicious. He brought one hand up to scratch slightly at the skin on his neck, feeling that it had already begun to dry out a bit. “Don’t call me Jelly boy. I have a proper name.”

“And what is that? Jelly man? Water bitch?” The man replied snarkily, slight smirk gracing his lips. A look of smug amusement graced his features, one brow quirking upwards slightly.

“Tomura Shigaraki.” He stated bluntly, diving under the water for a brief moment before resurfacing. “I expect you to share your name as well. It’s only fair, since you’ve wasted part of my night.” “Your night? Most of my night’s now ruined because you had to fuckin’ chase me!” The man practically shouted, his own anger showing easily. He took in a deep breath, though, speaking again a moment later. “I’m (Y/N) (L/N).”

“Well then, (Y/N). Prove that you weren’t just taking my things.” Tomura said bluntly, crossing his arms over his chest. “Prove that you’re actually protecting my waters instead of just intruding.”

“They’re not just your waters……” (Y/N) muttered under his breath, brows furrowing in thought for a moment. When he finally decided on what he’d do he held up his hands, fingers curling as he began to mutter something. “Expugnando aquas maris creaturam tuam da mihi aequare!”

At first, nothing happened. But then those glowing marks ran up (Y/N)’s arms, and the water around Tomura shook a bit more violently. He was then lifted into the air, water surrounding his lower half as he was seemingly lifted to the same level as (Y/N). With an unamused expression on his face, Tomura’s head tilted to the side slightly. “And what does this prove?” “God, do I have to do something bigger to prove it to you?” (Y/N) grumbled, annoyed tone in his voice. He lowered Tomura back into the water, pressing his hands together in front of him as he squatted slightly. Those glowing marks crept up his arms again, and the (E/C) spoke again, voice holding a powerful tone in it this time. “Persona ostende te, abscondere. Pulchra tibi custodiam alterius diei!”

This time, the water began to shake more violently, turning darker. It also clouded up a bit, and what appeared to be old trash floated on the surface of part of the water. “This is how I make the water look to the people that come here. It looks undesirable. But if you go under, it looks just as it did before.” (Y/N) paused briefly, giving an almost expectant look to Tomura. “Go on. Look.”

Almost glad for the opportunity to dive back under the water, Tomura did as he was directed to do, diving under the surface of the water. The moonlight pierced through it, and he could see everything just as clearly as he had before. When he resurfaced, he looked up to (Y/N), brows furrowing slightly. “Alright. So, you can do magic to mask things. Why did you need those rocks that you were going to get before?”

“I require items from the ocean to do my work for it.” (Y/N) started, scooting to the edge of the rock ledge he was on and dangling his legs over the side. “Every so often, I go out and gather the supplies that I need. I do it at night, mostly, because people would know I did magic if they saw. And nowadays, most folks don’t take kindly to it.” He paused briefly, letting out a sigh. “I heard that there was a burning a few weeks ago just a few towns over. It’s like the Witch Trials all over again…..”

“Witch Trials?” Tomura asked, head cocking to the side in a confused manner.

“The Salem Witch Trials. Long ago, people would put people through terrible trials because someone accused them of doing magic. They’d be burnt at the stake, a lot of the time.” (Y/N) said, tracing his fingers through a little puddle of water on the rock ledge. He went silent for a short while, the sound of the waves crashing against the rocks filling the void for a moment before he spoke again. “Anyways, I should return back to my home. The sun will be rising in a couple of hours, and I walked a long distance.” Standing up on the ledge, he turned to the cliff wall, grabbing onto a couple of small pieces of rock and preparing to hoist himself up as he looked back at Tomura. “I will return tomorrow night to get my supplies.” He paused briefly, beginning his climb upwards. “Goodbye, Tomura.” Tomura simply sat there as he watched the man climb up, sinking underneath the water moments later. He’d be there the next night, too- to watch the man and ask some questions.

Almost too soon, the next night came.

Tomura awaited the stream of bubbles that would signal (Y/N)’s arrival, eyes watching the calmly rolling waves above him.

Within a little while more of waiting, that stream of bubbles showed up, (Y/N)’s form entering the water. He seemed to look around for a moment, gaze catching Tomura’s. He visibly tensed for a moment before relaxing a bit, swimming to the same spot he had been searching the night before. Those glowing marks on his arms seemed to pulse, glow coming from them changing from bright to dark as he began to work on picking up the smooth, round stones.

The merman approached (Y/N) again, head tilting to the side curiously as he spoke. “What do you use those particular stones for?” “I enchant them and place them in the water near the shoreline of all of the beaches in town. When someone walks past them, it makes it harder for them to go further out in the water.” (Y/N) stated, putting several of the smooth stones into a container he had brought with him.

“Ah, so they’re a water barrier.” Tomura said, lips remaining in a slightly parted ‘o’ shape.

“Mhm.” (Y/N) muttered, nodding slightly. “They’re very useful. I have another variation of the same spell around my home.”

“Well, wouldn’t it make it harder for you to get into your home?” The merman asks, brows furrowing.

“No, it doesn’t.” (Y/N) answered simply, turning his head to look at Tomura. “As the spellcaster, it makes it easier for me to get into my home, actually.”

“I see.” Tomura states bluntly, backing up a bit so that his tentacles didn’t drift and hit (Y/N) while he was getting his stones. “How many more do you need?” “For the beach on the far side of town, I’ve got to get at least 12 more.”

“And right now you have….?” “7.” (Y/N) states bluntly, looking over to the merman briefly. He looks back down, moving a larger rock out of the way and grinning a bit when he found more of the small, round stones. “And there’s the rest of them!” Almost eagerly he picked them up, putting them in his container and sealing it shut. Turning to Tomura, he gave him a slight little smile. “That’s all I need for now. I’ll probably come back in a couple of days to get some more stuff.” He then gave an awkward little laugh, looking upwards. “Thanks for not trying to kill me this time.”

Tomura nodded slightly, brows furrowing a little as he spoke. “You’re welcome?”

(Y/N) simply let out a little giggle, looking back upwards. His fingers curled, and he began to perform the same spell of sorts that he had the night before, rocketing up and out of the water in a flash.

And so this process repeated for quite a while.

Every few nights or so, (Y/N) would return to gather materials and talk to Tomura.

And despite the fact that Tomura said that he wouldn’t fall for a human ever again…..

He did.

He had fallen hard.

Tomura waited patiently in the water at the base of that little rocky cliff, watching the moon as it rose overhead. And almost like clockwork, he saw (Y/N) appear at the top of the cliff. But instead of diving into the water like he usually did, he began to make his way down the cliff face, moving to sit cross-legged on one of the wider outcroppings of rock.

“Hey, Tomura.” (Y/N) called, a look of deep thought gracing his features.

The merman swam a little bit closer so that neither of them were totally shouting at each other, and his brows furrowed. “What’s wrong, (Y/N)?”

“I think they’ve caught on to me.” (Y/N) said, a frown gracing his lips. “Everyone in town has been giving me weird looks recently. And I think someone caught me placing some of the barrier rocks in the water the other day.” His fingers ran backwards through his hair, and he let out a sigh. “I’m going to have to do something. If I hide it all…..” “You could just curse them.” Tomura stated bluntly, moving to rest his elbow on a rock. He then rested his chin on his palm, head tilting to the side slightly. “I know you’re powerful enough to do it.” “But then that would give them even more reason to burn me.”

“Or you could come and live in the water.”

“The spell would wear off after a while.” (Y/N) stated, sighing again. Just as he was about to speak again he paused, tapping his finger on his chin. “I could try…. No, that would be way too risky…..” “Try what?” Tomura asked, eyes widening slightly as he looked up at (Y/N). “I could try a transformation spell. Turn myself into someone like you.” He said, gesturing to Tomura’s lower half. “But it’s too high risk of a spell. So many people have died trying to cast it before…..” Flopping onto his back, (Y/N) looked up at the night sky with a frown. “Well, casting it and trying would be better than just letting yourself die, right?” Tomura asked, seemingly straightening his posture a bit. “True….” (Y/N) stated, going silent a few moments later. After a short while of just listening to the waves crashing against the rocks, he sat up, looking down to Tomura. “It’ll be scary as all hell to try, but I’ll give it a shot. Being burnt alive doesn’t sound all too pleasant to me.” Upon hearing those words leaving his companion’s lips, Tomura’s eyes lit up. He’d finally have someone to talk to if it worked! His heart could’ve beat out of his chest in that moment- Had it not been for the fear that set in a moment later. What if the transformation didn’t work? What if the people got to (Y/N) before he could complete the transformation? Before he could let those thoughts run rampant, he took in a deep breath, looking back up to (Y/N). “Well, if you need anything in particular, let me know. I can find it for you.”

“I most certainly will.” (Y/N) stated, leaning over the edge of the rock ledge and looking down at Tomura. He took in a deep breath of his own, lips pursing in a straight line. “I better get going, then. I’ve got to prepare everything.”

“I wish you luck.” Tomura stated, giving a curt nod to (Y/N).

The thing that woke Tomura up wasn’t the light of the moon rising overhead. Nor was it some unsuspecting creature that had swam into his tentacles and woke him up with its thrashing. It was the sound of police sirens and shouting.

The merman shot up from where he had been laying on the ocean’s floor, and within seconds, his head breached the surface of the water.

Up on the top of the cliff, he could see the ever familiar form of (Y/N), and he watched as he flipped backwards into the water. Once in, a bright light flashed- And when (Y/N) resurfaced, he looked very different. On his back was a dorsal fin, and his teeth were like daggers in his mouth. And when he leapt above the surface of the water for a moment, a powerful tail was revealed.

He couldn’t help but grin brightly as he dove under the water, and he held his arms open wide as (Y/N) came swimming at him. He captured the other man in his embrace, bright grin on his lips. “Let’s get going, (Y/N).” He was so glad that he finally had him in his embrace.

And if anyone- or anything- got in the way of that?

He’d be killing again.

#yandere tomura shigaraki #yandere tomura #yandere tomura x male reader #yandere tomura bnha #yandere tomura mha #yandere mermay #yandere bnha #yandere mha #yandere boku no hero academia #yandere my hero academia blog #yandere x male reader #yandere writing #yandere #yandere-hero-haven #mod venus writes

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heartlesslywhumping · 5 years

Note

hi i love your prompts!! my friend is writing a story and wants to have some whump in it, so i thought i’d ask you if you had any prompts for it! it takes place 100 years after nuclear war broke out, and 12 young adults were forced into cryofreeze 50 years ago to see if they could live above ground. and while a lot of radiation cleared out, there’s still areas that are dangerously radiated. to make things worse, they all had their memories wiped and there are basically mutants above ground. ty!!

Oh daaaaaaaaang I love that idea! It reminds me of the 100 series, both the book series and TV show

(I refer to the young adults as a team here for ease of writing) ((also, there’s nothing bad under the cut, this is just a really long post and I’m breaking it up a bit))

One member gets a debilitating disease from the radiation, something similar to cancer. The rest of the team has to watch as the member suffers and slowly deteriorates, all while the member brushes it off and tries to hide how they’re suffering. Whether or not the member recovers is up to the writer.

The vegetation has mutated leading to the team preparing something wrong or eating the wrong thing. This leads to allergic reactions, poisoning, comas, seizures, vomiting, hallucinations, all the fun stuff.

There’s something bad in the water to include rain, mist, snow, etc. Does it cause them to hallucinate or does it cause physical harm? How does the team react to having no water?

One member touches or eats something that messes with their brain and leads them to attacking the team. The team has to physically restrain and contain the affected member. Now the team has two members out of commision, one injured and one potentially insane. The team has to listen to the affected member raving, screaming, thrashing, and pounding against their restraints. The team doesn’t know what happened, if it’s curable, or what they do next. The elephant in the room is the fact that they may have to kill the affected member. Meanwhile, the member acts like a rabid animal, snarling, clawing, screaming incoherently, sobbing, thrashing, throwing things, tearing at everything and everyone.

Consider what the member was/is. Weakest or strongest? Social butterfly or lone wolf? Leader or rebel? All of this will affect the team emotionally and physically. The way a trained warrior fights versus the way a healer would is vastly different. The most experienced or the least experienced would react and hit differently than the other option

If the member recovers: They now have to live with what they did for the rest of their lives. Do they look at the injured member and are stuck with horror and guilt? How does their dynamic with the team tear at what they did? What are the lasting emotional and physical repercussions? Is the injured member unconscious? Is it debatable if the injured member will live? What if the affected member potentially killed their friend? Were they aware of what they were doing but unable to stop? Were they fully gone? Do they still hear the screams and pleads to stop? The horrible things they said? Do they still feel what they did to the injured member? Can they still smell and taste the blood and dirt? Is there still blood under their fingernails? Will they ever trust themselves again? Will anyone else?

If they don’t: Who decides to kill the member or make the executive decision to leave the member behind? Does the member fight back or lie still when they’re about to be killed? Do they have moments of clarity and beg for either death or life? Are they shot, stabbed, poisoned etc? If they’re left behind, are they left food and water just in case? If they still manage to recover, does the decision to leave the member behind come back to bite the team in the butt? Or does the recovered member come back and save the team? The team now has to deal with leaving the member behind. Walking away to the screaming and thrashing.

If the writer is writing from multiple POVs, play with writing in one you wouldn’t expect here. Try writing from inside the affected member’s mind. Are they aware of what they’re doing but they’re a puppet in their own body? Are they completely insane? What does that look like? Do they think the team intends to harm them or do they think the team are intruders? What do they think or feel as they die? As they’re left behind to die slowly? POVs can really add to some unique whump

There are mutants?

Is the team revered or looked down on because they are not mutated? (Or are they?)

Revered:

Treated like gods, which seems nice at first until the people start demanding miracles

If they team can’t provide those miracles, it’s likely that they will be killed and/or tortured

The team frantically tries to escape while providing those miracles

Consider El Dorado (the animated movie) if it wasn’t a children’s comedy and things went significantly worse

Looked down:

Are they experimented on?

“Welcomed” by a group only to find out later that they’re meant for a sacrifice or meal

Enslaved

Hunted for sport

Creatures have mutated. Give them elongated necks, extra heads, insane amount of eyes, rows of teeth, reloadable stingers, giant insects, heightened vision and hearing, what have you. Let your horror mind go crazy (we all have a horror mind). The more grotesque and crazy your mutated creatures get, the more havoc they can wreak. Remember that this is a dystopian! In the Hunger Games there were birds that could mimic voices/screams, and wasps whose stings could cause hallucinations and/or death. Go crazy! Have your creatures melded with technology? Or gotten technological features all on their own? Do they have specific radiation related abilities? Play with this and then set the worst of it all upon your OCs *evil laughter*

Some ideas to play with just from our own world that creatures (animals, insects, aquatic beings) can do

Bites

Stings

Poison/venom

Swarms

Suffocation

Overwhelming a prey

Camouflage

Lures (think of angler fish or cookie cutter sharks that light up in the darkness to attract prey. Or venus flytraps)

Crocodiles and their death rolls

Forcing a prey to drown

Some octopi can whip their prey with venomous tentacles

Animals and bugs can spit

Choking

Marble cone snails literally deploy a venom filled harpoon

Suckers or various ways of sticking to prey

Constantly following until the prey is exhausted

There is a breed of wild, big cat (like a leopard) that mimics the cry of baby monkeys

Crushing

Paralyzation

Echolocation

Just read what tentacled sea snakes do!

“They can basically read minds. Maybe they can’t control other objects, nor can they tell exactly it is what they’re thinking, but based on their evolutionary method, they know where their prey is going to swim, and wait there with their jaws wide open. How does it manage this, you ask? Well, because of a fish’s innate reaction to perceived danger. It’s call C-start. When a fish sense sound waves in the water, their body automatically jolts and they go swimming speedily away from potential predators. The tentacled sea snake, however, moves its mid-section in order to purposefully trigger this response, then, when the fish tries to flee, it ends up right in the snake’s waiting mouth.”

And all of this is just from our own world. Also….just look at Australia.

Some more quick ones are to remove resources. Remove food, water, shelter, anything. Make the world itself a terrifying place. Mess with the elements of nature, mess with creatures, mess with people (do the mutants have powers? Even simple things like better strength or endurance? Better senses that can smell, hear, see, taste danger? Natural resistant to things that hurt the team? It doesn’t have to be X-men style powers unless you want it to), mess with e v e r y t h i n g.

Also, how have the mutants survived so long? What do they have that the team doesn’t and how can that hurt the team?

To heighten something, add a layer of time sensitivity or danger. Is something coming for them? Do they know?

And of course, there are lots more for mind wiping. This is just getting into a pretty long post and I’ve already re-written this several times (stupid tumblr kept crashing and my webpage kept reloading and deleting everything I’d already written) so I’m going to cut it off here with those quick ways to add whump as well.

If you’d like a follow up with mind wiping stuff, just message me! I’ll try to respond quicker this time 😅

Thanks for the ask! I’d love to know how this story goes! If it’s ever publicly shared somewhere (printed in a book, turned into a comic, posted on wattpad) message me again! I’d love to read it! (And if it’s never shared, I totally get that. Writers are weird and stories get away from us.) All the best of luck to your friend!!!!

Some gruesome things that animals do below this line

_____________________________________________________

Cannibalism

Eating prey alive

There is a breed of ant that makes a vertical, sticky platform filled with holes. Once a bug sticks to it, the ants pop out and pull it in various directions while stinging it to death. Some bugs can be stuck there for hours, being torn into manageable chunks

Spiders and their webbing up prey for later. Some do it while their prey is alive

#whump prompts #anonymous #heartless answers #insects #gore #my prompts

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lokislittlemagpie · 4 years

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ask 16 and 32 wuw

((WOAH OMG HI LMAO- I'll add a meme for them too just to show more of their personality-)

Lets start with Benny!

(THIS IS A 20 YEAR TIME SKIP TO THE CURRENT SERIES!!!)

32) (this actually helps with explaining him anyway-) Benny was designed after Brook the skeleton big time- He has darker skin and jade eyes like his mom (an undead demon 1800s girl i made a long while back-) Unlike both parents, he is fully living since he was created by CC! But he does have a veerry sensitive body (can get sick very easily or can very easily die by eating anything too spicy-) small heart issues, and is kinda thin- He is about 6 feet 7 inches and has dark black curly hair that he usually has inna tight pony tail! (kinda like Usopp but it drops down more, not as round rlly) He is 18!

16) Benny, as i said, is a lot like Brook but he is also incredibly inspired by Cyclonus too! He does have a love for old music and loves sword canes- But hes a huge chicken like Brook too- He loves Les Misrerables and he loves Hamilton- if you even get this man started, he will earrape One more Day and Satisfied until that's all you can hear in your worst nightmares-

32) Yunni is about 5 feet 6 inch of pure sass- He is blond with big green eyes that are quite beautiful actually- He loves pink booty shorts and crop tops with things that say the dumbest jokes like "kawaii on the streets" on the front and "Senpai in the sheets" on the back- He is a great cook and will gladly be your sassy prep boi- his hair is kinda a combo of Sanji and Italy from Hetalia- He has that one strand of curly hair like he does but theat medium hair that covers one eye like Sanji but it's longer on the left and curls at the tips! He is 24!

16) He is inspired by 4 characters! Sanji, Italy, Swerve, and Bumblebee- His personality is a mush of Swerves low self-esteem jokes, Bumblebee Bayverse sass, Italy's cuteness, and Sanjis slight anger problems and his cooking skills aren't as great but hes a great bar tender! He loves Jeff Dunham, Gordon Ramsay, and Kevin Hart and he references their jokes or threats on the daily-

32) Ruby is the daughter of two black magicians! Basil Hawkins and Dorothy Hopkins (whos next!) She has looong hair like her dad but is a slightly dark brown with black a the tips! She has his deep red eyes tho- Her face is more rounded like her mother's and she's only 5 foot 4- She's calm ajd quiet but can and will burn you not just literally but with just five words, your life is over- She always has a small smile on her face and always carries her book of spells! She has both her parents clothing sense wth dark clothes but she has to have her fathers old school frills and long black and red robes like her mother! She is 20!

16) She is inspired obviously from Hawkins- But she is very slightly tinted with Drift from Bayverse! She will tell dark dark poems at honestly the not so best of times- and she loves swords! She loves Adventure time and Steven Universe- Its the only light side to her just don't say that to her face-

32) Dorothy is a 5 foot 5 Long slightly curly black curly haired magician! She has a third eye that runs in her now extinct royal family. She is always gently smiling but will put you in your place- One cold stare and make you wanna regret being born- She keeps her third eye covered with her hair and has emerald green eyes- her third eye has a huge dry eye problem so its kinda lightly tinted yellow with red veins- but its still green! She loves her medical dark magic gowns and gear! She is more into demons and sacrifice while Ruby likes to summon little demons and do blood moon stuff! They both love crystals tho! Amythest and Quartz are a must-

16) She is inspired by only a two people- Loki from Marvel with her slight sense of humor and honestly her hair- And she is also like The Black Magician who is from Princess and the frog who I can't remember the name of- She becomes someone else if she uses dark magic too long at once! She loves soap operas and would die to see Phantom of the Opera live-

32) Lucas is a fun loving spider mink human hybrid! He is the son of Admiral Kizaru and My GFs OC Kasumi! He looks a lot like his dad but his personality is a little different! His hair is more curly and his a milk chocolate brown! He has four eyes but usually only uses the blue bottom eyes and keeps the red upper ones closed- He has elf like pointy ears and his dad's ridiculous lips- He has his eye brows too- But! he has his mom's fangs and eyes! He also has for slightly clawed arms and hands! He is just at perfect 6 feet! He uses swords and webs in battle that come from his hands like spiderman! He is calm but has many jokes and could be hiding anywhere- He is always smiling and tapping a foot to some song in his head- He loves his light peach orange uni pocket hoodie and his loose dark blue jeans with his converse-

16) Hes inspired by Kizaru of course and he is like a Rose Trantula kinda- More calm than most big spiders but still can and will fight you- He is also inspired clearly by spiderman! He also kinda reminds me of Whirl when he snaps- Or like IDW Drift when he gets Slicy dicey- He loves the old stuff like Ren and Stimpy and he still gets nightmare about "return the slaaaab" From Courts the cowardly dog-

32) Julie Ann is a pink haired girl with purple tips and is full of spunk and curse words- She has a thin mechanical arm after getting it blown of by her own inventions! She is smart and narcissistic but secretly fears being alone- She loves military boots and torn up rock shirts that are almost a little revealing thanks to the giant arm pit holes- she loves black leather pants and always has half her head shaved on the left while the right is just flying around! But she does have a piece perminantly braided in the front of her head on the right and it's a just a few inches passed her shoulders- She will fist fight god and walk backwards into hell with both birds up- she has sky blue eyes!

16) She is inspired By Julie Sue from the sonic comics! (The older stuff) and Eustass Kidd from one piece! She can be a lot like Braintsorm/ Whirl too- Shes a scary woman- Five Finger Death Punch and the all edgy verse of DC is her life-

32) Mel is A very shy GIANT Angler fish- I know in real life male anglers are tiny as hell but I really wanted a big shy man and Mel happened- Melvin is green with sea blue spike fins on his arms and back of his calfs! He has huge spike fin gills too but has learned to breath air over time- he has the little dangling trap from his forehead and has a combed over blue mohawk- He has big sharp teeth that poke out from his mouth in random places- his hands have blue webbing and so does his feet- His eyes are black and have gold squiggly irises- He is at a scary 7 feet 4 inches but he just wants hugs- This man cries when watching Endgame and Phantom of the Opera- He has a love for shirts that are just a little loose on him and loves jean shorts with sandles! He also loves crocs- Don't tease him he'll literally cry-

16) He is inspired actually by Ten from IDW and a bit of Endgame Hulk- He is also like inspired by Katakuri from One Piece! His sharp teeth from Kat and his body build is not quite as beefy as Hulk but he's kinda close honestly- He loves Steven Universe and the original Teen Titans! He squeals like a fan boy when ever he sees Beast boy-

32) Jake is happy smart mini Dobbie! He is the shortest standing at 4 feet 5 inches! He has a stub tail and a golden pirate ring piercing on his right ear! He has all the colors and looks of a dobbie he just smol- He loves to fix things and will growl if you poke to much fun at him- Ruby calls it 'Short man syndrom' and he hates it- He only wears blue torn up blue mean shorts- No shirt and no shoes- His eyes are bright bby boi sea blue! He loves head pats every now and then and loves bacon- You can kill this mans family and hell forgive you for 5 pounds of bacon- He blasts Wheezer and Gorillaz from his work shop at all times!

16) He is inspired by your typical tiny Dobbie! But he kinda looks like a mechanic version of Rewind- He is also inspired by an old friends dog who was named Jake! He doesn't watch much tv or movies but if he does its gotta Be Marvel- This man looks up to Tony Stark like a god and has an Iron man poster for modivation in his shop-

((I hope this isn't like too gross or annoying- Ive never mentioned any of my OCs- In fact i just forgot my main OC Lola- w o w- If you want stuff for her just let me know! I'll even try to find my old doodles and my gfs doodles if you want me to-))

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jane-argeiphontes · 5 years

Text

SOMA: After the Launch Chapter 4

Chapter Four “The Gel and the Devil”

Simon set down the Cortex Chip on the table at Phi, he unloaded everything he managed to scrounge up from that room in-case he would need them. Why not be prepared for anything? Unless he lost his sanity before he made it to the other side. How long would it take it for him to start hallucinating? He guessed it depended on the mental stability of the person, if they were quite sane then it would take years but if they weren’t then goodbye sanity.

“Gotta keep it together, Simon,” he told himself out loud. “Do it for Catherine. Keep it together! Don’t stop. Keep going, keeeeeeep going, don’t stop, keep going.” He turned back to his board. Crossing out the Cortex Chip he looked at the Structure Gel supposedly in Johan Ross’ room back in Tau. He had flashbacks to when Ross would follow him and stalk him whilst he roamed around the site, urging him onwards whenever Simon stopped to take a break. He never went upstairs to Sarah, either he didn’t want to look upon her or he didn’t even know she existed at all.

“You have to stop it!” he would shout.

Simon wasn’t interested in his goals and ambitions, the world was gone! What was the point of stopping the WAU? Let it have the Earth, let it have everything. All that mattered to him was what good it brought him. Catherine, the ARK, and another chance at life. The original him died long ago with hopes and dreams silenced, now he had the chance at it again except that not much was left. The world may be gone but there’s plenty of things to do down here. Maybe there were stuff still intact up there? The Omega Space Gun was intact enough to even launch a new satellite into space.

“Ok,” he spoke and cleared his thoughts of worry and stress, “let’s do this.” He began the travel back to Tau, keeping an eye out for the Leviathan and that Whale in-case they wanted his robotic insides. When he reached the WAU, he found more growth of the gunk and foliage than before. On a cracked screen brought in from the original Site Alpha, it displayed images of the above before the Impact Event. No doubt, planning and learning to “revive” what was up there. It’s sick, twisted version of it.

Then, he looked back at the hole next to his way out. A dark trail of Structure Gel leaked out of it down back into Alpha. Some scrap metal followed along with what looked like a leg or a mutilated arm. Ross? He’s been brought back once, he could have been brought back again. That or something worse found him. An angler fish? No, no, he already saw that on his way to Tau and it was barely his size. An octopus? Maybe. That’d be terrifying, covered in faces on every angle with glowing lights illuminating the dark with a false sense of hope. Regardless, they were heading in the same direction so he’ll find out whether he likes it or not. When he passed by the ruins of Alpha again, he wondered if there were any human staff here? What happened to them? There were rooms seemingly built to house them but not a single body or indication was to be found. Out of every Site he’s been to, this one is in the worst state of the WAU’s overhaul to “save” Humanity.

The trail would stop then reappeared from what he could tell, larger clumps became smaller and smaller every time he found them again with his Power Suit helmet’s light. The anglerfish stalked him from afar in the dark, the human face on its side writhing in seemingly anguish. Did it have a human brainscan? Did the WAU graft someone onto the fish? God, Simon didn’t even want to imagine it. He pushed on into Tau, passing by the crushed body of Neil Tsiolkovsky, the Russian crew member of Tau. Simon wondered about using his suit for Catherine. It was mostly intact except for the face region and basically the upper half of the body. Nevermind, he’ll go with the original plan. Better a good suit then one where the top half is useless, he wouldn’t get to see Catherine’s face and he didn’t have the skill to repair it.

He managed to get back to the living area, still set up and livable if he needed a place to hang out. There was the bodies of Auclair and the rest of the ARK team were there. He read the old records and files still active on the terminals he found, thankfully a few kept paper journals during their last days. To extend his trip here, he searched around for the possible whereabouts of the crew. Auclair was in his room, malformed by the WAU into this...cacoon thing. What was it doing with him? Was it trying to rebuild him? Back at Omicron he saw what the “rebuilding” looked like with that crew member in the orange jumpsuit. Malformed: one leg was longer than the other, the proportions of his body oddly shifted, and the machinery in his chest of course.

Then he found the trail again. It led to one of the corner vents in the main area of the living quarters, the grate was popped open. Simon crouched down, turning on his flashlight to get a better look at the insides. Structure Gel bubbling and slightly growing until it died back down only to do so again in a cycle. “The hell is here?” He went over to Johan Ross’s room, pressing the button only for it to deny access. He pressed it again. Access denied. He slammed his fist against the button. Denied. “WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON?!” He kicked the door with full force, making a small dent in the metal.

The Data Buffer cracked to life. “You had your chance to save Humanity and what did you do?! You threw it away! Now it’ll infect and infect the world, making the grand illusion that we’re still alive! All for what?! The ARK? Another illusion of our existence! A mockery!”

“Ross? You’re alive! The Leviathan--”

“The WAU tried to silence me! I breathed again thanks to the Structure Gel, no matter what it keeps me alive with it pulsating in my veins. Now I have to use the weapon of my enemy in order to destroy it. I need a body Simon! I can’t make one on my own, and I need the same Gel in yours. So, I’m going to replace your copy with my own.” The door opened with Ross leaping atop Simon, sending him to the ground. Ross clawed and smacked against the helmet; he howled like an animal and clawed like one too at the Power Suit.

Simon threw him at the desk inside his room. Ross’s arm dislocated itself, the tissue and flesh still weak from the revival. “It’s over for us. It’s done,” he told the deranged man. Or what was left of the man, he was still human at her despite whatever the WAU put him through. His mind may be centered on one goal, but if he didn’t have that goal he would realize that it was over, that there was no point anymore to taking his Structure Gel to infect it. He was still human to a degree, nothing like Sarah but what else would convince him?

“I have to stop it! Humanity--”

“Ross,” Simon tried a less aggressive tone, “Think about it. It’s just you and me, the last sane beings left on this earth. The only true human that was left alive is dead. Sarah’s gone, she couldn’t go on anymore. Nothing else mattered, no way to reproduce and save us, even if you killed the WAU what would you do after that? Kill yourself? Kill everything is brought to life? All the life still living?”

Ross just looked at him, blue lights flickering in his weakened state like a broken computer, his posture slumped. His metallic and rotted insides slowly spilled out with some just hanging there still attached to their original pieces, the tube connected to his head scrunched up every time he took a deep breath. He leaned against the chair with what was left of him. They both listened to the fan go and the clock go by. “Is it really over?” His voice was broken. “Did we really lose? Can we have lost?”

Simon took a seat in front of him. “The ARK launched, our memory and the copies of us are up there. Thousands of years, maybe even more, they’ll be in Paradise. Now down here, us, the WAU, these creatures, we’re all that’s left of the living. Sure, Humanity may be gone but at least life is still flourishing. We’re still living. Maybe someplace up there is still intact, maybe something is still up there worth living for. The scans, even though they’re not us or truly human they still have a chance to make this...work. Without the WAU, none of this was possible. Sure, it may have led to people losing it. To the monsters killing people at Tau, the fall of Theta, Upsilon’s abandonment, and so much more. Despite all that, here we are. You died, Ross, a part of you did but the WAU saved you. Saved what was left of you yet your mind is still intact, you still have that. Think. Use it. Is killing the WAU really going to make the world much better than it already is?”

Ross didn’t say anything. Simon didn’t know where that part came from, he did know that Catherine would be proud of him. What else did they have to live for? They had to live just because the world needed live to continue, even if they weren’t human they had to go on.

“You...you have a point.” Ross’s voice was gloomy, he didn’t want to admit it but what else did he have left? Everyone he wanted to protect was dead. They’re long gone. The last human left alive didn’t want to live, they simply wanted to die. He looked up at Simon.“Why did you come here? Why come to Tau? To my room?”

“I’m trying to fix...my friend, Catherine. The WAU gave me some kind of vision, I guess, on how to fix her. Kinda like how I made the body for me using...Herber. The one part that it didn’t tell me was how to actually get her into the suit. Catherine was the only one who knew how and I doubt it’ll tell me in any way that makes sense.”

“Friend? Hmm...I can figure it out if you get me some of her notes. The schematics or anything,” Ross suggested. “Why not? I’ll put myself to use down here.”

Simon, surprised by this revelation, was speechless with joy. “Y-You will? You’ll help me get her back?” Such hope was in his voice at the thought of his chances being greater.

Ross nodded.

“Theta. She had a room in Theta. Akers was there with his Proxies if they’ll be trouble. I think he died when the tunnel flooded.”

“What else did you need?”

Simon explained everything from the vision to him. The Power Suit, the Structure Gel, and the Cortext Chip he’s already collected. How he came here to get one of Ross’s jars of Structure Gel that was hidden in a compartment in his vent. Ross turned around, climbed up and revealed the jar that was there.

“This is how I knew the WAU was changing, I watched it infect one of the plant life when I was out with Glasser so I collected a sample before he had to pull me back.” Ross thought back to his colleague, the only one that believed him about the WAU and the threat it posed. “And he died trying to get me to Omicron. Glasser, the ever noble and proud man, charged forward unto death without a second thought. Here I am, doing what I can to honor him. He studied life so I’ll make sure that there’s life to be studied.”

As the two talked, a monitor over in the communication hub sparked to life:

WARNING, SATELLITE DESCENT DETECTED. IMPACT NEAR SITE THETA.

#Soma #Frictional Games

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kabutoraiger · 5 years

Text

favorite TMA eps bc s4 is almost here and i’m feeling the hype

01. angler fish - maybe it’s just like. “oho how simple it all was at the very beginning” but nah i think i actually love this one. it just all feels so subtly unsettling rather than outright alarming which is my favorite kind of spooky story. & even with what we know now the anglerfish is still a pretty mysterious being. they made a good choice leaving the very first creature mostly untouched in The Lore. what a good start to the show

15. lost johns’ cave - not sure why i love this one so much. i guess you can set anything in an eerie cave & play up the silence & loneliness of it all and it just immediately goes up a notch for me. i like the unreliable narrator that leaves you a bit unsure of what really happened (even in retrospect it’s hard to say for certain)

24. strange music - i hate clowns, dolls, and especially clown dolls, so you’d think i’d be pretty :/ about this one but that part isn’t quite as interesting to me. it’s more the calliope organ itself that’s just such a cool haunted item, the idea of being followed by the music until the circus finally comes for you......

30. killing floor - ok so typically the flesh episodes set off “ew” reactions rather than genuine horror for me, but. this one’s good. the impossible space butcher plant feels like a silent hill level that never happened & the writing is so tight (though maybe a Little overly edgy)

38. lost and found - things disappearing and people’s memories being rewritten and the narrator being the only one who remembers!! oh shit dude that’s like my favorite psychological content and then the creature coming out of the pot aaaaaaaaaa

44. tightrope - i’m just totally taken with this awful circus, i guess. the virtue of being the first gertrude episode really elevates it, too. her voice + the content gives it an extra eerie feel. this is my favorite “historical” TMA by far. love how technically everyone made it out fine and yet they were all never quite the same...

61. hard shoulder - obviously this one works best in conjunction with the first Coffin Ep (bc who could’ve expected the contents would be... that) but even alone it would still be good. something about daisy’s description of this guy just headin on down the stairs is like. wack.jpg. also just learning more about the fucked up life of daisy tonner is a major plus

74. fatigue - i lost a year of lifespan to tiredness and anxiety listening to this one. A+

77. the kind mother - similar to my experience with ‘lost and found’ god i just love when something is plainly different but only the pov character notices... of course i like all the not them eps for that reason but this one sticks out more than the others, maybe bc it targeted such a complicated & important person in the narrator’s life

81. a guest for mr spider - of course we all adore this one. spooky childrens picture books hook me every time, and it’s just such a milestone episode. every one of jon’s past “why does it have to be spiders” comments... i getchu even more now my man

86. tucked in - THE BLANKET NEVER DID ANYTHING.

87. the uncanny valley - the narrator in this one would be #me stumbling into some bizarro shit, except in my case it’d be bc i didn’t have my glasses on. while obviously we know the general purpose of this “factory” it still feels like there’s enough unanswered questions behind it to keep it mysteriously creepy... though maybe that’s just the weirdness of the stranger getting to me

107. third degree - the desolation eps aren’t usually big faves but damnn the tone & imagery in this one is so excellent. above like every other episode imo this one best captures how you can get your entire life ruined by the powers that be just being a poor sap in the wrong place at the wrong time. fuckt

110. creature feature - this one i love more for the premise than the execution, admittedly. i was so Hell Yeah about the idea of a cursed kaiju movie and was a bit let down by the end result, but the concept just appeals to me so much i can absolutely look past it

114. cracked foundation - this ep gets me in a way the other hilltop road entries don’t quite manage. maybe it’s the cleanliness and newness of the place the narrator describes contrasted with the slowly creeping dread, and then finally the reveal that it doesn’t want to “hurt” her, just. displace her slightly from the real world for all eternity :) great stuff

#the magnus archives /#maybe...i'll try and re-listen to these before It's Time

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shinymills · 4 years

Text

Plague Ship

Before I lay out my last words, I want to say - I want to say that I know I deserve whats happened. We all do, for more'n a few reasons I guess. We ain't good folk. Poverty, war, famine, it'll change people ... You either learn to strip away morals and survive, or you cling to civilization and you die. Us, we survived. Till now, leastwise.

We had a pretty tidy system worked out, you see? Didn't - didn't work all the time course, not even seventy percent of it, but it worked, enough that it got me and my crew from point A to B with food in our belly, the air in our lungs, and fuel in our ship. All'a the things we needed to survive and thrive.

Whenever supplies would start running low we'd set ourselves up as a ... A, whatcha call them? Angler fish, yeah. We'd send out a nice little signal. Not always the same one though, fast way to have people catching on right there. Stuck close to the Rim when we'd be playing lure - less chance of patrols or some shit answering, playing well-meaning knights when we all fuckin know ... We *all* fuckin know anyone rescued by any of the Corporations ends up shoved into Indentured until their 'debts' is paid up.

Shit, sorry, rambling. Hard to focus lately. Hard to stay in one line, one... One thought, you know? My head comes and it goes, I guess you could say. My crew - my crew ... They haven't been so lucky as to just - to just be having trouble with thoughts staying in lines, with their minds staying in place. Don't know yet if that means I'm the lucky one, or if ... If my luck was just shittier, cause I get to watch everyone crumble down.

Fuck... Fuck, fuck, fuck, still rambling. Yeah. Sorry. Where was I? Oh, yeah. Lures. We was low on O2, yeah? And fuel, but O2 was the big concern. Getting anywhere don't matter much if you're fuckin dead, right? Yeah. We'd set up a distress signal to send out a basic S.O.S, powered down the auxiliary functions, and sat back to play the waiting game.

People - People think living on the edge of civilization, the rims of society, nothing but action, danger, and drawn out fights trading blasters shots and witty - witty barbs back and forth. Not so much, yeah? Lot of times, we're just waiting for someone to snap up the lure. Little tense, mostly quiet, but that would make for boring fuckin vids, right? Yeah.

Shit - Fuck, rambling. Sorry. Yeah, anyways, so we sat back and we're there waiting to see who, if anybody, gonna show up. Hours we waited there, quiet, and dark. Me and my men, we was startin’ to think maybe we was gonna have to pull up shop, try another sector or something like, when Haugh calls out all soft like that a ship's come into range.

Not a - not a *second* after he's said that we're getting hailed. Cheers us right the fuck up, cause we was all getting antsy as hell. Course we don't fuckin answer. Just let'em keep hailin away as they pull up alongside us. Isn't long at all before we're feeling the ship rumblin’ and shakin’ as the dock with us. Which is ... See it was odd thinkin’ on now, yeah. Most of'em, they hail longer, yeah. Cautious. Not them. Eager like. Fuckin eager. Should've - should've fuckin’ ... Don't matter. Don't fuckin’ matter anyway.

Me and my crew, meanwhile, we've already gotten into position on either side of the airlock and we're .... and we're - we're fuckin waiting, yeah? The minute the hatch open blasters are drawn and we're fuckin on them. Didn't put up much of a fight. No fight, none, just ... just went down like tissue paper, all four. One had - had a weapon on'em, but the other three just had medical lookin, high shit. Never seen nothin’ like it before.

Me and the crew, we was countin ourselves *so* fuckin lucky as we looked over that shit. Was obvious we'd managed to snag an honest to god Medi Ship. This haul, this *fuckin* haul, we was sure to be set for the next few months. Thought our luck had finally turned for the better. Countin - it was counting chickens before they was hatched. Yeah.

Second we stepped through the airlock we knew shit wasn't right. Remember - remember what I was saying about them blaster fights people always thinkin life on the Rim is like? What it looked like inside that ship. Couldn't see no bodies. Plenty of blood, yeah... no bodies. Should've left right then. Iverson - Iverson, young boy, maybe all of seventeen, wanted to. Only one with the sense he was. Only one with any - with any kinda sense. Was a good kid. Good kid. Didn't - he didn't ... But Haugh went callin’ him a pussy. Got some of the men laughing and, yeah, he quieted down quick enough. Should've listened - should've ... Should've left, but we was low on food, fuel.

We swept through the ship, real thorough like. Weren't sure what the hell happened, didn't want caught in the middle of some kinda mutiny or some shit. Never found any real survivors. Not - not really. Found a few bodies. Some of'em weren't right, they didn’t look *right*. Less - the less said about that, the better. Few of'em looked like they could've been responsible for the mess outside of the airlock. All of'em wore uniforms, some of'em doctors and nurses ...those ones, they were the worst off. Someone had had a fuckin’ hate-on for them poor bastards. Rest of'em looked like the might've been security. All of'em had Corporate logo stamped on their uniforms.

Should've left right fuckin’ then. Just forgot about the haul and just ... And just tried again somewhere else. But we was fuckin’ desperate, and stupid as shit. Stupid gets you killed out here, every time, stupid gets you killed out here.

Last room we came on was ... It had hospital bed, yeah. Only living thing left in that ship, near as we could tell, and he was dead to the fuckin world. Had a little nametag on his shirt that read Moore. Strapped to the bed, straps across his fuckin stomach, and ankles, wrists, and lookin like he was off playin’ out in the stars. There was charts on the wall, X-rays and shit. Bunch of medical mumbo jumbo. Couldn't make heads or tails of any of it. Haugh put a bullet in his head. Pissed Iverson off ... He was a good kid, good kid. Haugh just said he was dead either way. Weren't wrong.

We didn't waste time getting everything we needed back our ship. Place was - it was just ... We was fucking stupid. So fuckin’ stupid. Just - should've just left. Fresh air was fucking amazing though, let me tell ya. And the food we got from them. That fuckin’ food, man. It was - it was just ... Fresh fruit. Iverson, he'd never even fucking seen a fruit that weren't dehydrated first. That boy was damned near cryin’ when he took his first bite of a pear. Juicy, yeah? Crunchy ... With - with the sweet drippin’ juice, and he said it was the best fuckin’ thing, yeah. Best fuckin’ thing. We ate their food, breathed their air, and tried to forget that ship.

Fuck, shit. Sorry. My mind it wants… it doesn't like lines, straight lines so much. Anymore. Moments, sometimes it gets hard to make it stay in the line, it wants to stray, lead away. But I've got to finish what I'm fuckin’ saying. For me. My men. So fuck that.

Week or so on, we're on our way to greener pastures. Love that saying. Ain't nothing green to be seen out in this darkness. Always liked that sayin’ though. S'nice. Yeah. Bigger and better things, maybe. Different, at least. We've done forgot about that Medi Ship, out of sight out of - out of mind. Yeah.

Two weeks in and Iverson accused Haugh of trying to steal his thoughts, trying to - to worm his way into his mind. Said he only did what he did because Moore told him to. That the only way to keep Haugh out of his head was to go and - and drill straight into the man's fuckin skull. Iverson was - he was a kid, and him ... Him doin’ somethin like this threw us all for a fuckin’ loop. Fucking crazy.

Sometimes people's just too good, can't handle the things we’ve gotta do to survive. Me - I figured Iverson still ... I figured he was still pissed at Haugh about shooting that Moore guy like he did. Fuckin’ stupid lookin back now, yeah. So, so fucking stupid. Only thing that made sense at the time though. Yeah.

Didn't know… wasn't sure what to do with him. Didn't want to space him. Some of the crew did, yeah. He went and drilled a goddamned hole in a man's head. And my crew… Can't blame them. But he was a good kid, didn't wanna do that. Tied him up, stuffed him in the Med Bay. Figured ... I figured he'd be safe enough there. Just keep him there till we could figure things out.

Two days after that - just, two fucking days, I walked in the Med Bay to find Ricks, our half assed drunk of a doc, tryin' to fillet Iverson. I say tryin’ cause... He ain't never had the steadiest of hands. Always drunk. But he had a surgical saw in hand, and he'd been - he must've been at it for a while, cause ... Cause most of that boy's left leg was gone. He was still alive, but he weren't - he weren't ... Only reason it went on for so long was cause he weren't screaming. When I walked in Iverson was just watchin’ him. He looked so, so fucking calm. Like it was what was supposed to be happenin’.

Iverson, he didn't last much longer after that. He never screamed though ... He looked so fuckin calm the entire time. So goddamned calm. Ricks ... They asked him why the fuck they did that. He weren't even friends with Haugh. We all thought, everybody thought ... Just figured it was him getting back. Angry, and getting back. Hard. Yeah. But he goes and says that it was on account of Moore tellin’ him that he had to start getting ready for the winter.

I don't know what to fuckin’ do. Crew's wanting to space'em, cause fuckin Christ, he just carved that boy up. And I'm - I’m wanting to, too. I ain't too proud to admit I was fuckin scared ... Confused. Didn't know what… didn't what to do. And Moore again. Moore. Don't understand it. We space Ricks. Don't even have to drag him, he just - he just walks. Keeps goin’ on about how he's ready for winter, and not to worry on up until Singh shoves him in. It's not a relief seeing him sucked out the airlock. Should've - it should've been. It ain't.

Three days after that, my first mate, Vorster, he, I find him in the armory with Singh. He's got ... Singh is on his back, willing like. Just watching the ceiling, smilin’, and - and Vorster is wrist-deep in the man’s stomach. Got - he's got some of his ... Some of his fuckin insides pulled outside, and somehow, I don't fuckin’ understand it, but Singh is still alive and smilin’, and lookin so fucking happy to be there. Minute I walk in they both look at me. Same time. Just stare. Vorster keeps moving his hands around inside Singh's stomach before pullin’ out this loop of the man's intestines and - and he, Singh - he helps and I can't help it, I throw up. I've seen some shit, but that was... It weren't right.

Afterwards, I'm questioning Vorster and he's tellin’ me all about how Moore had told him and Singh that he had to help Singh dig some kinda - some kinda sickness out of him. Singh's dead, course. There ain't ... Just ain't no comin' back from that. Ain't. Can't ask him. But he looked so… he looked so fuckin’ happy, and I don't know what to fucking think. Vorster gets spaced. Shoved out the airlock.

Keeps happening. One after the other. My crew. My men. They just keep going after each other, mostly like they're - like they're willing like. One or two put up a fight. Damned good fight. Me. Me, I stick to my cabin now. Just ... just stay in my cabin. Some fuckin’ captain I am. Hiding in my own ship like a fuckin’ stowaway. I can hear Davidson, I think it's Davidson, outside my door sometimes. Talkin about fuckin’ Moore. I don't listen though. I don't. Ain't gonna fuckin listen.

If I do, if I do, got my gun right beside me. Ready to open a new hole in my head. Yeah. I just ... This ain't me seekin’ no kinda forgiveness, no atonement. Don't regret my life, don't regret - don't regret a damned thing I've ever done, 'cept one. Should've left that fuckin ship. Minute we saw what was in there, should've fuckin left and never looked back.

And Moore, I tell him that, and he… He says I’m right. We probably should’ve turned right around. Left. But he’s awful glad we stopped.

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broodyauthor62 · 6 years

Text

This the first chapter from my first book “Baker’s Dozen: a Fantasy Novel”. Available quite cheaply on Kindle worldwide.

Prologue: Goin’ Over Town

In a reality not far from our own...

Paul Baker Colson speaks:

I was heading down Cedric Street, “goin’ over town”, as my late mother would have put it, and stopped on the bridge. It was a hot, extremely muggy afternoon and I was surprised to see a large number of people (mostly men and boys) fishing from the bridge and the shores of the river. This was strange: the Clarke River is not a clean stream; its dark waters are polluted by a paper-mill upstream. “Town” water was taken from Lake Ontario, not the river.

I quit counting the catches at 30. Most of the fish seemed to be bass. I looked west, down-river, and something caught my eye. Amid the coloured T-shirts and shorts, a spot of black-on-white showed: a figure sitting on one of the benches by the river. It appeared to be an old man, black from broad-brimmed hat, severe suit, and pants, white from shirt and skin.

I felt drawn to this figure... I couldn’t explain why at the time. I took the stairs to the shore at the south end of the bridge. I walked down the boardwalk to where the man was sitting, dodging excited fishermen as I went.

The oldster sat quite still, a large, dark green book on his lap. He looked, I remember now, like the old-time preachers you would see in Westerns. Oddly, something made me uneasy. This was even before I had a good look at him. His shirt was bright white and the wrinkled skin on his hands was hardly a shade darker. Looking at him, I could sense, somehow, his great age and youthful intensity at the same time. These two conflicting emanations seemed to cause me to want to talk to him. His hat’s brim shielded his eyes from mine as I stood before him.

To his left sat a teenager in a Jays’ baseball cap, white shirt, blue jeans, and black high-tops. I couldn’t see his eyes, either. He sat very still, his dark hair forming a duck-tail at the back of his cap. He sat so still I wasn’t even sure he was breathing.

The elder of the two tilted his head back, gazed at me with pale blue eyes, and croaked: “Have you read from the Book?”

I figured he meant the Bible; probably that was what he was holding on his lap.

“I’ve cracked it open from time-to-time,” I answered, glibly.

His eyes hardened at that.

“Not this Book! This is that which you can’t handle lightly!” he hissed loudly.

His breath stank of decayed fish. The young man flinched at the outburst. Then he looked up at me.

Bad drugs, I thought. His skin was paler than the old man’s... if that was possible. His eyes were brown, dilated, blank, and staring.

“Darrel, here,” said the senior in a more-normal tone, “has read from the Book. He is one with us!”

“Darrel” flinched again.

“My name is Ezra Marsh, out of Innsmouth, Massachusetts.”

“Paul Baker Colson.”

Okay, I thought, Introductions made. Still, I felt I was getting out of my depth with this conversation so I had to ask: “Okay. So what is this book?”

“The Hymns of Dagon!” he answered, triumphantly.

“Dagon,” I repeated. “Who’s he?”

The wasted face brightened.

“He is the Render the Seas! The Bringer of the bounty! The Father of the multitude, the Deep Ones!”

He became agitated, again; he almost fell flat on his face as he snarled the last sentence out.

I grabbed his slender shoulders to steady him. His suit was damp with sweat. I looked around but the anglers hadn’t seemed to notice his outburst. He had staggered up off the bench; I steadied him back down. Darrel had jerked several times during the man’s rant.

“I apologize for my zeal... but if you knew... if you knew ... ,” he spoke, thickly; he sounded like he was losing his voice. For a moment, I thought the old guy would have a stroke right there, what with the heat. After a moment, though, he seemed to calm down and his breathing normalized. Marsh looked up at me, a sly look on his emaciated face.

He asked, “Would you like to hear one?”

I looked at my watch: almost 4:00 pm.

I replied, “Well. Okay. You’ve made me kinda curious.”

I sat down on the bench beside him, to his right. The smell of fish increased incredibly: it was as if he should be covered in scales, flopping by the feet of one of the nearby fishermen. He opened the book on his lap. There were no musical notes that I could see, just script that I took to be Arabic or close to it. I could read Arabic script but the words seemed meaningless to me.

He began to “sing.” His voice hissed, moaned and gobbled.

It made no sense to me (although I did hear the name “Dagon” in his sighing and sputtering tune). He went on like that for a few minutes, never raising his voice. From the other side of him, I could hear Darrel humming atonally.

When Marsh was done, he turned to me square and asked, “What do you think?”

“I think... I hafta go!” I replied. I stood up and added, “Good luck spreading the word! Bye, Darrel!”

His “song” and Darrel’s moaning undertone had really bothered me. The sun had seemed to dim and the cooling air had given me goose flesh. I hurried away, back up to Cedric Street. I heard Ezra Marsh call after me. I made out the word “again” over the noise of the crowd...

“Dagon,” I mumbled that night as Andy, my 16-year-old brother and I cleaned up the supper dishes. They didn’t amount to much as we had ordered out for pizza, a habit we were indulging in probably more often than was good for us.

Andy looked at me.

“‘Dagon’? Have you been into the Old Testament or lookin’ through my library?” he asked. He looked puzzled but amused.

We’d been getting along well recently, so I replied mildly, “Neither. Just some weird old guy I saw today.”

I set the last washed plate in the right sink for him to dry.

“He used that word or name,” I finished.

“Really!” he responded. “Hmm... the only ‘Dagon’ I know of was a god of the sea worshiped by the Philistines in the O.T... They used to sacrifice people to him for more fish. And... . oh, yeah! He was also a nasty critter from some of those books of mine you refer to as ‘simple horseshit’.”

“Which horseshit?” I demanded of him.

I hated it when he knew more about something than I did! He held up his palms in mock-defence.

“Okay, okay! In my collection of H. P. Lovecraft stories, Dagon was a god of the sea, too. He was a deity for some humans on land and for his ‘children’, the Deep Ones, under the water. Was this guy an H.P. nut or sumthin?”

“No... I don’t know!” I growled.

I was angry with myself for feeling strange about the whole business and mad at my brother for making light of it. Should I tell him that Marsh had used those strange names as if they meant something real to him? I wouldn’t be able to face his knowing smile: Go on, Bro. Have another rum and cola!

I drew in a breath and said, “Okay. Maybe he was just a senile, old ‘H.P. nut’. That’s probably how you’ll end up, too, if you don’t watch it!”

I smiled at him; being nice was something we were working on, too.

We finished the dishes and, as usual, he went to his room in the back of the house to go on-line and I sat down in the living-room to watch the Jays on the 54-inch. The Jays were having a better season than those past, the games were usually good... but Ezra Marsh was still on my mind.

As the game progressed, my mind wandered. A rum and Pepsi would go good right now, I thought. I shook my head fiercely; I was trying to dry out! Going on the straight-and-narrow! I felt myself getting angry. The Jays scored a run. I inwardly studied my feelings. All my frustrations came from one source: Andrew. My parents had tried to leave it all to him... with the proviso that he looked after me! It turned out that wasn’t legal. But Andy’s lawyer was trying to set some kind of precedent, so...

So what if I’d alienated my parents by joining the Armed Forces at the fresh-faced age of 16? So what if the bottle had been holding me instead of the other way? So what if they couldn’t practice birth control in their 40s? I guess I wasn’t enough of a son for them! So what if... it was an endless litany that I indulged in often... and it wasn’t a good habit. There had been times since I had left the Forces that I had considered seeking medical help, because I felt the feelings I had were unhealthy. I wasn’t a strong believer that mental illnesses really existed, so I never acted on that idea.

Mom and Dad had been livid when I signed up but I felt at the time my country needed me... that, and I hated school. Plus, about ten years earlier, the Canadian government had decided to beef up the military. The Nazis hadn’t made any aggressive moves in almost fifty years but the consensus was, “Why take a chance?”

The Americans were such isolationists and ball-less wonders... at least, as far as I was concerned. They couldn’t be counted on for protection. The government had passed what had been widely known as “Pierre’s Choice”: at the age of sixteen, you stayed in school, got a job (there were few of them) or joined the Armed Forces (you weren’t thrown into the fray immediately; there was a two-year training period) so I headed off to learn how to be a soldier. The infantry was my trade of choice as it had the easiest entry requirements. I had become very good at killing and other “nastiness” over the years. The League of Nations continued to limp along, trying to maintain the peace. They quite often called on Canadians to do the dirty work (I think many of the European delegates considered Canucks quasi-barbarians): clandestine operations that usually occurred in European nations not totally under Nazi control. I took all the right courses that could fit into my schedule and moved up the ranks quite quickly. I was a bit of a wunderkind and my superiors were very happy with me. Ironically, during my career, it was pointed out that an education would be a definite asset. I applied myself, put in many long days, and came out with college equivalence. Of course, there was also a slight drinking problem. My brother had sidestepped the Choice... later governments had liked it a lot... by starting university early, on-line. He was now working on his second year of his Bachelor of Science, majoring in physics. He was a genius.

The game ended at ten pm. It had been a slug-fest, 10-6, with the Blue Jays winning in the ninth. The news came on: apparently, the princess-in-exile was in trouble with Revenue Canada... again. This bored me. I took a Pepsi out to the front porch (no rum, damn it!), looking to cool off on the chaise lounge. The soggy night heat then wrapped around me like steam in a sauna. The moon was high in the sky, nearly full. The air’s moisture had placed a faint ring around it. I watched it rise while I drank three cans of cola. Midnight came on and I decided to go to bed.

Might as well, I thought. Have a whole day of hanging around to do tomorrow.

I had it in my mind, then, that the scream I heard from the north was wordless. In my dreams, now, it is a pleading negation: “Not me!” or just “NO!” I stood straight from the comfortable chair and dropped my half-full pop can. The shriek sounded like it came from the park by the river. A few dogs in the neighbourhood responded to the sound by yelping but all fell quickly silent.

I was a block down the street, running in my moccasins before I thought: What are you doing? But I kept on. The park was fronted by the boardwalk where just eight hours earlier I had met that strange man. And Darrel. I cut through the park between the wide-spaced trees, moving on the wet grass as quietly as my military training could supply.

When I got to the wooden planks, I noticed this first: one of the benches had been smashed in half. There was a coppery smell in the air. The moonlight spotlighted a dark object lying on the dewy, trampled grass. It was a black high-top running shoe.

I picked it up and was surprised by the weight. I realized the ugly truth... I’d seen it in Czechoslovakia: the foot was still in it. The anklebones stuck out, splintered. I threw it from me with an angry cry of disgust. It hit the water with a loud splash.

After that sound, there came a loud churning of the water’s surface. It became apparent that someone or something was swimming toward shore. I crouched down, going into what I call my “war-mode”. I was ready to fight, weaponless as I was. I only wished that the lights along the walkway had been lit that night.

Two bright ovals of light caught me in that position.

A voice yelled out, “Hold it right there!”

“Okay, okay!” I shouted back.

I slowly dropped to my knees to put the yeller at ease. The noises from the river ceased.

Oh, good, I thought.

The policeman and the policewoman, Drury and McAvoy, were from the O.P.P. Clarkesville didn't have its own policing anymore. They inquired what was going on, had I broke the bench (though they quickly concluded that I couldn’t have done it by myself), and why did I have blood on my moccasins. That question startled me.

Blood! I said to myself. That smell; I should have recognized that smell!

In short order, they had me handcuffed. McAvoy held my left arm tightly. I did the smart thing: I did not resist. Drury went over by the busted bench and found where the blood was on the grass. He stood up; put his mike to his lips and contacted headquarters (I supposed), getting info from my wallet, and using the cryptic language police use while so doing. Another patrol car pulled into the park, blinding me with its headlights.

The next few hours rushed and dragged, alternatively. We rocketed to the HQ. We flew by the front desk, stopping long enough to remove my belt and keys and get my fingerprints. They indicated I was probably going to be charged with mischief (nothing was said about the blood at the scene). We went zooming to the holding cell, which was mercifully empty. They left me there and time slowed to a crawl. It seemed like hours before one officer came back with a portable phone so I could call Andy.

“I’ll call Sade,” he said and added, “I’m very disappointed with you, Bro.”

A very large man in a grey suit looked in on me. He held up a detective badge for me to see.

“I’m Detective Jimmy Cochrane. Let’s talk.”

He wanted to know what I’d been doing in the park so late at night. I told him about hearing the scream, finding the foot. He sniffed.

“Divers will find it. We got your ID from your prints. Got them from the Ministry of Defence. You’re some kind of hero, eh? Had a bitch of a time getting anything about you... except awards.”

“I’m no hero.”

“Well, you do have a lot of decorations and medals on file... it even says you were a Regimental Sergeant Major.”

I looked down at my bare feet. “Any fool can win medals! Look. I haven’t done anything. Won’t you guys let me out?”

“Yes, they will!” called Yvan Sade as he walked up to the cell. “Are you charging Mr. Colson with anything? Substantial?”

Cochrane replied, “We were originally thinking of mischief but it looks like we need more evidence.”

Andy’s lawyer smiled his shark’s smile.

“Then I think we’re done here! Come on, James, that’s a good fellow!”

They let me go. The short, burly Mr. Sade led me to his car.

“Cheaper than a taxi!” he enthused.

During the short drive home (Sade drove like a maniac), I told the lawyer my story.

“Shouldn’t have chucked that foot away! Evidence, my boy! Evidence!”

We pulled into my driveway. I asked Sade if he wanted to have a coffee but he declined. “Busy day tomorrow! Or, I guess it’s today!”

Yvan Sade always spoke using exclamation marks. He wheeled out and was gone in a spray of gravel. I walked into the house in my bare feet, my leather moccasins, bloodstained as they were, being held for testing.

Andy was waiting for me in the kitchen. It was 3:00 am. He asked me if I wanted to eat, that he was making something for himself.

“Just wanna go to bed... feel like a bag of shit.”

“You look it, too.”

“Screw you.”

“Just kidding!” he said. “You okay?”

“Will be... ”

That said, I went to my bedroom, climbed on my bed and fell asleep without even undressing. Fortunately, I hadn’t any blood on my clothes.

My dreams were fierce. The worst one had Andy being torn apart, his bones cracking like dry kindling, by something huge and dark, eyes like egg-shaped, glowing prisms. I heard Marsh’s voice screaming in triumph, “Dagon! Dagonnn!” I could hear waves crashing in the background and smell the ocean. It turned its blazing eyes on me...

“No!” I shouted as I jerked myself upwards into full wakefulness.

I was sweating and felt ill. A cool breeze blew fitfully through the west window but all it did was chill me.

Change in the weather comin’, I reasoned.

The front doorbell rang. I looked at the clock: just past nine. I got up, knowing Andy was probably asleep, and only the Last Trump could wake him. I straightened my clothes as much as possible and went to answer the door, shaking my head to clear the cobwebs left by my short sleep. Jimmy Cochrane stood outside, his detective’s badge in hand. I’m 183 cm. but the man had a good head on me and probably 25 kilos, too. He extended a large hand to shake.

“May I come in?” he asked, as I accepted his hand.

I let him inside and showed him to the kitchen. He pulled out one of the crafted wooden chairs and sat down slowly. You could tell this fellow had broken chairs before then; I worried about my brother’s investment. I offered him a cold drink (“No, thanks”), then a coffee (“Yes, please.”). I went about setting up the coffee maker and we talked back and forth about the heat, the cooling in the air that a.m. and the Jays. Finally, we sat across from each other, coffees in hand.

Cochrane sat back slightly.

“Tell me again about last night. Don’t leave anything out.”

I told him, in detail, all that had happened late Friday night and early Saturday. I spoke with some heat about having nothing to do with the broken bench or the blood. I made a point about mentioning the shoe and the noises from the river again.

“What does the noise from the river suggest to you?” he asked.

“I, I don’t know. It was as if I was in shock. Most of the night seems like a blur.”

“Does the name 'Darrel Spencer' mean anything to you?”

Darrel! “No. Why?”

“He was a young offender who had given a DNA sample a few months ago. It was his blood at the crime scene. They dragged the river there, too.”

“What did they find?”

“I’m not at liberty to say.” He gave me a cryptic look. “It’s beginning to look like a homicide, though. You’ll be relieved to know you’re not the prime suspect. The lab boys found your footprints in the blood but no other physical evidence. So you shouldn’t worry.”

He gave me a smile which showed missing teeth, a boxer’s smile. It clashed with his fine, grey suit. He ran his left hand through thinning, red hair.

“Sorry to have troubled you. Actually, this news might have made you feel some better.”

He gulped the last of his coffee and stood up.

“I’ll let myself out. And, yeah, I know this sound’s hokey but: don’t leave town for the next few days.”

He grinned at me and patted me on the shoulder as he left. I heard the door open and shut.

That was weird, I thought.

I felt strange after Cochrane left. Lassitude flooded over me, leaving me sitting there at the table as my coffee cooled down to undrinkable. The effects of arriving at the scene of Darrel Spencer’s slaughter had unnerved me more than I had realized. Had I been away from action... from war and death so long that this occurrence shocked me into immobility?

And why, I wondered, haven’t I mentioned Ezra Marsh?

Sacrifice, Andy had said. For more fish.

Not tonight! I thought. I won’t let it happen again!

As I stood up from the table, I appraised my life briefly. I said to myself, I’ve done... questionable things, even evil things. It’s time to balance things out.

Later, in the early afternoon light, with thunder rumbling in the distance, I went to my bedroom and began my preparations. I wasn’t sure for what I was getting ready but I was sure it involved death... and death was something I knew.

I knew Andy still slept so I quietly entered the closet in my room. I was quiet because the bathtub in the bathroom next door would act as a sound conduit right into Andy’s room. I didn’t want to take the small chance of waking him, yet. I removed the collection of shoes and boots from the closet floor. Once the floor was cleared, I removed the piece of carpeting, exposing the trapdoor to the crawlspace.

I opened it. The smell of fresh damp earth surrounded me. Reaching down, I found the waterproof box. I felt around for the handle on one end and picked the container up. Carefully, still trying to be as quiet as possible, I pulled it up through the square hole. I set the heavy box on the floor just outside the closet and worked the combination lock.

The khaki combat uniform was still folded neatly. I removed the clothing to get at the smaller box under it. The box opened revealing a GLOCK 37 pistol and several clips of ten .45 calibre hollow-point bullets. I inspected this then closed the tin and set it aside. Farther down in the main box, I found two sticks of camouflage paint.

There we go, I thought, feeling complete.

I slid the smaller box, the paint, and my uniform under the bed. The bigger box went back under the floor. I then laid down and waited...

The storm that struck later that afternoon was intense. Clarkesville hadn’t had one like it all summer. The lightning flashed almost continuously followed by cannonades of thunder. The wind blew up a gale. The power went off twice but neither time lasted more than a few moments. It was bad enough to make me think a tornado was in the works.

I could hear Andy awake in his room yelling at the more brilliant displays: “Jesus! Holy fuck!”

The storm rolled its way eastward, leaving cooler air in its wake... plus a few relieved citizens. It was 5:00 pm. so I went to the kitchen. I wasn’t hungry but Andy was always a bottomless pit when it came to food. I began to prepare some spaghetti, using slices of fried sausage in the sauce (Andy’s preference).

I was quiet during supper. Andy was, too, sensing my mood. The noodles and sauce could have been paper and water as far as I was concerned but my brother enjoyed it. Due to his efforts, there wasn’t any left to be refrigerated. He helped me clean off the table and grabbed a bagel from the fridge. I told him I would wash and dry the supper dishes later. He looked surprised.

“What’s with the sudden generosity?” he asked.

“Maybe I went and got religion.”

He chuckled, stuffed the bagel in his mouth, and went to his room, a can of Pepsi in hand. Excluding forays for more cola and trips to the bathroom, I knew I had probably seen the last of him until morning. I went back to my room. I knew I had some hours to wait.

What was I going to be facing? A band of cultists of some kind, likely. Marsh couldn’t have butchered Darrel all by himself. Could he? My mind raced.

I somehow knew that Ezra Marsh and his followers (how many?) would have another victim there by the river tonight. Sixth sense? I didn’t think so. It was just one hunter reading the heart of another.

I knelt beside the bed and pulled out the box and the uniform. The “COLSON” name-tag stared up at me from above the left breast pocket. I looked at the Regimental Sergeant Major insignia’s lion and unicorn. I sighed and opened the box and took out the GLOCK. Dominic, my supplier, had told me I’d like this weapon. I’d only test-fired it five times while back at the old farm. I pulled the slide back and gazed at the cleanliness of the breech. I sighed again. I set the automatic pistol aside and took out ten clips of ammunition.

A small voice inside me cried, Tell the police!

I ignored it. I'd decided to treat it as a “The Black” op but this time I was certain of the ethics of my target(s). I laid the uniform beside me on the queen-sized bed. I put nine of the clips in the pant-leg pockets, four on one side, the rest on the other. I loaded the last clip into the GLOCK and clicked the pistol’s safety, putting it under my pillow. I put the tin box back under the bed. I then reached over to my alarm clock and set it for 11:00 pm.; four hours to wait. I wondered if I’d sleep.

I stared at the clock until 10:30. I climbed off the bed and stripped to my shorts and put the khaki on. I tucked the shirt in, reached under my pillow, and got the pistol. I stopped for a second; I’d forgotten the holster. I shook my head in disbelief and corrected that by getting the metal container out again.

As I pulled the holster out of the very bottom, I thought, I had better get a grip or I’m going to die tonight.

The holster held the pistol under my left armpit. I placed the GLOCK gently, barrel first, into the leather. I then took the camouflage paint out. I didn’t need a mirror. I had done it so many times before. It took a minute, using both shades of green. To finish, I put a camouflage baseball cap (from my collection of caps on the wall) on my head. I then went into “war-mode” and moved like a ghost out of my bedroom. I could hear Andy clicking away on his keyboard but he didn’t hear me. I opened and closed the door to the breezeway silently and in a moment, I was outside.

There was a stiff breeze blowing from the southwest, pushing fitful clouds ahead of it. I circled the south side of our house and headed north.

I crouched, crawled, and slid behind the neighbours’ houses on Sandra Street until I reached Babcock Road and the south side of the park. I crossed Babcock like a shadow. The light from the almost-full moon waxed and waned with the passing of the clouds. Gravel pressed against my bare feet, followed by the kiss of cool, wet grass.

Passage through the conservation area was tricky: some branches had been blown down. As I approached the boardwalk, I saw the path’s lights were lit this night. The bench had been hastily slapped together and was festooned with crime-scene tape. I was rather surprised that any repairs had been done. Two figures were seated there. One of them was Marsh; I could tell from his black hat. I couldn’t tell who the other was. I waited.

Ezra Marsh stood up. He was wearing a black robe instead of his suit. He held out his hand to the other, who was female. She took his hand and stood up. She was slim with long, dark hair. She was clothed in jeans and a denim jacket. She moved slowly, stiffly... as if she was in a trance. The old man walked her to the side of the boardwalk away from the water.

“Stay here, Nicole,” he said quite clearly.

He walked to the water’s edge. I could tell he was singing one the Hymns of Dagon without the book this time.

Probably has them all memorized! I thought inanely.

Marsh reached the river’s brink and turned and faced the girl. He dropped his robe, exposing his scrawny, hairless body. He turned back to the water and raised his arms to it.

Seeing him naked and then vulnerable, I stepped out of the shadows, brandishing the GLOCK and yelled, “Forget it, Marsh, you ass-hole! It’s over! Let the girl go!”

His response was a maniacal cackle. He swivelled his head to look at me.

“You cannot stop what has been started here! Dread Cthulhu will curse you if you try!”

He looked back at the water, arms still outstretched.

“Caleb! In the name of Dagonnnn! Rise up!” he roared, body quaking, the volume of his voice giving a lie to his weak-appearing form.

Just in front of him, the water erupted and something leapt ashore. The first thought I had was, The Creature from the Black Lagoon!

Then Nicole started screaming and collapsed into a quivering ball of fear. This was real! The sea animal, half-human thing; it let out a blubbering squeal and moved toward the terrified girl. I acted, filled with rage.

“No, you don’t scumbag!” I screamed and aimed.

Marsh saw this and bellowed, in return, “No!”

I put the laser-sight right on the monster’s chest and fired. It moved sideways incredibly fast but the slug still connected. The right shoulder disintegrated into a cloud of flesh, scales, and bone fragments. The beast howled, the remains of its right arm hanging loose. Marsh yelled out in anguish.

I ran up to the young woman. I was 5 metres or so from “Caleb”. I grabbed her left flailing wrist and pulled her to her feet. She resisted but I lifted her up with fear-fuelled strength. She looked at me with shock-dimmed eyes. She looked past me and saw the thing and almost withdrew into her ball again. I slapped her hard. Her eyes cleared and she looked at me sanely for just a moment.

I hollered in her face, “Run! For fuck's sake, run!”

She turned and scampered south, toward Babcock Road. She cried out as she ran. Answering cries came from the west.

I felt a heavy impact on the ground behind me. I whirled around. Mortally wounded, the beast stood before me, taller and wider than a normal man could be. It had jumped the five metres! I brought my pistol up and it hit me with its good hand... with claws. Pain splashed through me and I was raised spinning in the air. My right side was aflame and I was sure I was leaving my intestines quivering in the air.

In that second I thought wildly, Don't drop the GLOCK! Don't drop the GLOCK!

I hit the ground, bone-breaking hard. I didn’t drop the GLOCK.

I rolled to my back and looked between my feet. Caleb was now twice as far away. I tried to raise my right arm. Pain! I reached across my chest and took my weapon from my injured right hand. I aimed the pistol with my left, putting the little red dot on Caleb’s chest. Marsh saw this as he stood by the monster and flung himself across the creature in its defence.

I thought, Get one of you!

The round hit the old man in the head, taking the back of it off. His body dropped like a stone. Caleb looked down wildly, his eyes like wide green prisms, the gore on his chest now with the addition of Marsh's brain-matter.

“Poppa! Poppa!” he howled.

He picked the elderly man’s corpse up with his left hand and turned back to the river. I aimed shakily with my left hand and unloaded a shot at the back of his head. Then everything went black...

Through waking and losing consciousness, I saw much:

A tall, wide-shouldered, middle-aged man with a full grey beard bending over me and saying, “Well done.”

A harried-looking policeman, dripping-wet from rain, yelling, “EMS! Right now!”

Lightning flashed before my eyes, turning the raindrops silver...

I laid swaddled in a bed in the ICU of the County Hospital. Worried-looking nurses looked in on me from time-to-time. Andy was by my bed much, holding my left hand, careful of the IV. Doctor Alder was there several times. He looked concerned, too. Over it all was the smell of seaweed. I decided I was dying.

There came a time, though, when I was alone. I started to close my eyes and enter oblivion once more when movement caught them. The middle-aged man with the full beard entered the room (no other patients were there) without hindrance from the nurses. He walked to the head of my bed. I rolled my eyes to look at him.

“Well done,” he repeated, reaching into his grey robe. He pulled out a vial filled with clear liquid. He uncorked it and reached over, holding it to my lips.

“Drink,” he said.

Dumbfounded, I followed his command. It was bitter but somehow soothing. I noticed the seaweed smell ebbing. The pain in my right side eased markedly.

“In two days you’ll go home.”

He walked out of the ICU with the same silence as when he came. I drifted off to sleep.

Two days later, I was sitting in front of the 54-inch with a Pepsi in my hand. The wounds and infections had cleared up... just like that... after the antibiotics had failed at first.

Doctor Alder called it jokingly, “A medical miracle.”

You could see the puzzlement in his eyes.

I sat there on the LayZeeBoy, with the ounce of rum in my cola taking the edge off the itch in my right side (Andy had agreed one ounce wouldn’t hurt). The sutures were still in but would be dissolved in a few weeks (or less). The Jays were winning on the tube and life was good...

In the next few weeks of healing, I found out a few things. The girl whose life I’d saved was Nicole Troyer, a friend of Andy’s. I had met her before but under much more relaxed circumstances. She’d actually come screaming to our door. Andy had taken her in and called the O.P.P. and the ambulance. They thought someone had tried to rape her (I was briefly accused of that!). Nicole couldn’t remember anything after the first bad storm. Some teenagers had been smoking marijuana over by the bandstand: they saw everything, they said, but their stories, interesting (and close to the truth) though they were, were dismissed. Any blood and brain tissue had been washed away by the second storm that had occurred right after my meeting with Marsh and Caleb. The river was dragged but no bodies were found.

Finally, I think the official story ran that I had stopped in the park and rescued Miss Troyer from two attackers. One of them had been in some type of costume, perhaps a wet suit and mask. I had fired at both but they were able to get away. They had, however, had time to stab me repeatedly before leaving. The police then arrived to find me bleeding to death in the rain. End of story.

My pistol was confiscated, being illegal in Canada. There were a few other charges against me, mostly firearms-related, but Sade was able to have them dropped.

Most of the information came from Cochrane who showed up one day to see how I was doing.

Since he had AB- blood, Andy had donated some of his to make up for what I’d lost. This brought us closer together and made us friends for months.

To make a long story short: I healed well. I still walked, using a cane to help with the pain on my right side: ribs had been broken as well as the gashes and bruises. I walked around town, looking for the middle-aged man with the full grey beard... but I never saw him. After a few months, I gave up, about the same time as I stopped using the cane. In a town the size of Clarkesville, you would see anybody that time.

I was “goin’ over town” quite a bit during that search. I’ve talked to the anglers (there weren’t many) as I passed, going north or south.

I was told the fishing sucked...

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