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snappleapple · 3 years

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their favorite types of kisses

people in this - dream, georgenotfound, sapnap, wilbur, punz, jschlatt, awesamdude, quackity

headcanon!

the most disgusting fluff i’ve ever written

warning - cursing, i think that’s all but if there is more please do not hesitate to tell me :)

word count - 2k

a/n: okay okay, i might’ve lied earlier about that being my last post but this was short and easy to make which is why i would like to feed my readers this early haha. anyways, enjoy and please disregard the errors in this post, i hate proof reading anything lol. also, i’ve been very indecisive on the title and i might change it later and ooh, my masterlist will be made soon. i’ve just been feeling very unproductive these days. also, please put in requests, i am so bored and dumb therefore there are no ideas in this brain. and if you’d like a part 2, i might add more people for the part 2!anyways, peace!

dream -

i get the feeling that dream’s favorite type of kisses would be cheek kisses

he just likes to watch as you struggle to reach his height

“aw look at those little legs do their thing.”

ends up with you not giving him his kiss

and mans becomes SO pouty

“y/n…come on. don’t be this way.” :(

if you don’t kiss him on the cheek, will also become SO clingy and whiny

“why won’t you KISS ME!”

clenches his fists and stomps away like a teenage girl during puberty

slamming the door to your room

so then you have to go and give him all the kisses he wants

his face is slammed into your pillow

you sit on the side of the bed and pet his hair

leading him to stare up at you with puppy dog eyes

“i will give you all the kisses you want. so stop being so pouty, you big baby.”

will literally leave zero feet of space between you and him

taps his cheek to tell you he wants kisses

when you go on dates, will literally make you stand on your tippy toes to get his kisses

does not bend down at all and actually lifts his head higher to tease you

in other words, clingy but rude hoe

george -

george is a classic romantic

he loves just lip kisses

pecks or lingering ones

he doesn’t care

mans don’t need too many kisses

nor does he need to be too clingy

total opposite of dream and sapnap *ahem clingy ahem*

if he wants a kiss,

he will come over to you and get it

doesn’t get pouty if you’re busy

just waits patiently

doesn’t enjoy it when you interrupt him when he’s streaming so you do your own thing

when you’re watching a movie with him,

he will literally only stare at you with his cute smile

and listen to your every criticism of the movie

he likes to just peck your lips whenever he feels like it

and you’re just not surprised anymore

just likes to stare at your lips whenever you talk

overall, is very sweet but not to an extent with showing affection

sapnap -

omg

sapnap just vibes with neck kisses

it tickles his neck and he loves them

giggles when you pepper kisses along his neck and flushes a deep red

“y/n. stop.” giggles between each word

but when you do, becomes the saddest person in the whole world

“i was joking.” :(

when he’s streaming and he begins to miss you

would leave his room and find you just to get a kiss

just like dream, would get angry if you give him no kisses

“GIVE ME KISSIES!”

very amusing for you

and you love to tease him

“i don’t want to give you kissies.”

continues to stare at you with a large frown until you give in and give him kissies

lsg supremacy but i’ll get into this later hehe

you better give him kisses or you’ll be dealing with a very sad sapnap

sadnap :(

wilbur -

wilbur, wilbur, wilbur

what can i even say

total nose kiss guy

i bet he’ll boop your nose twenty four seven

asks stupid questions just to get your attention

“y/n?”

“yes wilbur?”

“is a hotdog a sandwich?”

“why-“

“boop.”

“did you just say boop while you booped my nose?”

if he’s streaming and you bring him a snack

he will hold your face still and leave kisses on your nose

not too clingy but not too distant

likes to be just right with you

if its snowy outside and your noses get red

makes dumb jokes about he is rudolph and you’re mrs. rudolph

just a lot of smooches from wilby

takes you to a lot of hidden cafes in the city

and while you read, he balances his head on his palm, staring at you in admiration

if you’re insecure about your nose, you legit can’t be around wilbur because he will go on a tangent about how beautiful it is

substantially, soft boy hours all day bro, besides when he gets mad then you leave the hormonal man tf alone

punz -

i don’t see a lot of punz on tumblr so here we go

punz loves hand kisses

not to an extent where he has a hand fetish

god no but just like

when your holding hands, he’ll occasionally pull your hand up to his lips and leave a kiss

lots of hand holding

and i mean lots

constantly gets mad fun of for being a simp but ignores those comments because he genuinely loves you so much

likes it when you play with his hair and messing it up

also likes to compare hand sizes with you

always has a hand on your thigh or your hand in his whenever he is driving somewhere with you

even when you go on dates, always holding hands

no matter how sweaty your hand gets, he will hold on

sometimes if he holds on for too long, you have to tell him to let go

“punz, my hand is super sweaty. lets take a break from the hand holding.”

would flat out decline so you would have to pry your hand out of his

he would also love it when you would kiss his hand

makes him feel all polite and precious LOL

would also wrap his pinky along yours when you walk together

he once came with you to a family gathering for christmas and was so SHY

shy boy held your hand for security while your younger siblings made fun of you

afterwards, when you were under a mistletoe, he kisses you on the lips before kissing you on his favorite part of your body,

your hand

c!jschlatt -

jschlatt is a whole mess

the first time you met, he confessed that he would hate you for as long as you lived because you made fun of his boots

now he says he still strongly dislikes you but you’re more tolerable

doesn’t like it when you make him soft and HATES it when he blushes

“why must you do this to me, mother nature?”

also “hates” it when you even touch him because he “hates” you

when he actually confessed to you that he liked you with his grumpy usual grandpa voice,

you kissed him on his forehead, after he bent down of course

he is an actual giant and threatens to squash you like an ant if he feels the need to

is an absolute monster to you but loves it when you kiss his forehead because it makes him feel secure and loved

likes to watch the wind blow through your hair and mess it up but gives you his hat because he like you being “all pretty and shit”

gets SUPER jealous when you hug children

like for example, when you went over to a family gathering at his house, his cousins came up to hug you

and when you let go of the child, the man child comes and lugs you over his shoulder

gets yelled at by his mom and gives her a sheepish smile before rolling his eyes and throwing you down on the sofa set next to him

his mom doesn’t approve of the way he treats you but you tell her its fine because he’s cute

when you are far from any type of civilization or in the safety and solitude of your own home, he wants kisses on the forehead

pointing up to it and bending down so you could reach it

“y/n, i only love you because of your forehead kisses.”

“you only love me for my kisses?” :(

“mhm.”

actually feels slightly bad

“and because of your personality.”

“thank you-“

“shut up. we don’t talk about this.”

in conclusion, give him his forehead kisses or perish

awesamdude -

sam just adores it when you give him jawline kisses

not because it’s basically the only place you could reach but because it’s a sweet gesture

sam is all about sweetness

i mean have you even seen this man on his stream

he likes to watch you while you have conversations with your friends

not in a creepy way but more like an adoring way

cause man does he love you

i mean not only does he love you but his whole family does

and when you’re alone with sam, you love to bury him underneath all of your love

“i love you sam!”

“no i love you more y/n!”

“NO i LOVE you more!”

“NO i LOVE you MORE!”

“SAM NO. I LOVE YOU MORE!”

“okay thank you sweet pea.”

leaving you a bit confused but happy that he accepts your love

when you cuddle, omg

he never stops peppering kisses all over your face and vice versa because your relationship is disgustingly fluffy

when he lends you one of his sweatshirts, you sure as hell better wear that shit out or else (i am leaving a blank threat here)

sam loves technology but you guys sort of have a system

a system that involves mailing each other love letters rather than texting them

you guys also go on a ton of walks just about anywhere

hand holding is mandatory even though you probably look like a child compared to him

just give sam lots of love and in return, you’ll receive lots of love

quackity -

mans cannot leave you tf alone

likes to do ANYTHING freaky around you

“i will follow you to the ends of the earth, mi amor.” or

“ayy, back off.” if anyone gets too close to you

messes with you twenty four seven and makes it his job to drive you insane

plays horror games at two in the morning for fun

and when he gets scared, hides in the safety of your arms

“mi amor. i’m scared.”

“shut the fuck up and sleep, alex.”

“okay.” shuts up quickly and snuggles deeper into the crook of your neck

loves you so deeply but HATES your cat

“look at that little dumb thing stare at me. you got a problem bro?”

your cat also HATES alex

scratches him all the time and hisses at him

if you think sapnap is babie, wait till you meet alex

“y/n he bit me!”

when you glance down, you don’t even see a scratch

“kiss my boo boo.”

wtf

“what boo boo? there’s nothing there.”

gasps as if you offended him

“this boo boo that your el demonio did to me.”

this man will do anything to get boo boo kisses

istg, you once found him provoking your cat to get some scratches

in alex’s mind, ouchies = kisses from y/n

always has ouchies from god knows where and shows it to you

even though you find it annoying at first, you grow used to it and it sorta becomes your thing with alex

alex is babie and you need to take good care of him :)

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seraphiism · 2 years

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oooo can you do ' you can have my heart if you have the stomach to take it ' ( aleksandra waliszewska ) with kaeya, thank you in advanced!

𓆩 ღ 𓆪 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐀𝐋𝐋

( YOU CAN HAVE MY HEART IF YOU HAVE THE STOMACH TO TAKE IT. )

chara : kaeya alberich fandom : genshin impact quote cr : aleksandra waliszewska a/n : prompt post ( x )

DECREPIT IS THE CORE OF HIS HUMANITY, THIS WOLF AMONG SHEEP. kaeya alberich reeks of holiness & false deifications ; upon his throne there is an unwanted solitude that rests heavy on the crown he bears. he is the show runner in this bloodied theater, the stage drowned in kerosene and bathed in darkness as crimson curtains come to a close.

he is both monster & man, origins and intentions unknown. somewhere in the shreds of a soul renounced lies gold in the sinews of a love cherished. such love is difficult to keep, and how tenderly does it fall from your lips with each kiss you leave against his skin. ( and he shouldn't hold onto it, your love. it's not his to have, but he'll keep it anyway, drown in the sensations of what selfishness means. )

"you play a dangerous game," kaeya murmurs against your knuckles, butterfly kisses trailing along your hands in worship, "capturing my heart like this." he grins. "there are better choices out there, you know."

you tremble under his touch.

"i only want you, though." you whisper, breathless -- almost afraid. intimidated. entranced by the elegance in the way he carries himself in front of you. "it's always been you, kaeya."

there is something terrifying that brews in the beings in his heart -- something that feels too much like love, something that feels too much like betrayal, and something that almost resembles a petrifying ache in the wanting. but there is something, too, that lingers beyond the mist : the undeserving of it all and the fear that you are too good to witness the corruption that hides in the marrows of his bones.

"kaeya alberich." his name falls off the tip of your tongue in warm tones as you pull your hands away from his face, instead using your fingers to trace the apples of his cheeks. heavenly is the smile that falls on your lips, and for a moment, kaeya forgets the buried past that echoes in his footsteps. "may i have your heart?"

you wait, watch as hesitation threatens to break his facade. it cracks -- barely visible, but known and seen. your lips remain sealed, patient as he searches the depths of oneself to understand what he truly wants.

kaeya remembers warm memories ever so fondly. how time passes quickly when you surrender to grief, and how lonely it is, to spend a lifetime in guarded isolation. perhaps this can be a new beginning, an awakening : a happiness that he can obtain and keep for himself.

he places his hand over yours, guides it to his chest. there is a heart beneath it all : the rage, regret, horrors, and a sorrow unspoken. how beautiful that yours beats in time with his. may it always stay this way, he hopes, lips curling in faint happiness as he kisses you.

"i would give it to no one else."

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #kaeya alberich #kaeya x reader #kaeya alberich x reader #this was rly fun to write !! i hope u enjoy it !!!#.: kay #.: req

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factionzero · 3 years

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Maybe the age number 3 with Saturn Girl and Brim 🥺? 👉🏾👈🏾

I should have known your favorite would be the furry ♡♡♡ Short bit of Imra and Brin bonding, can be read as shippy or platonixc :3c

Prompt 3: Letting them lay your head in their lap while they play with your hair. Brin and Imra.

---

Therapy was a word Brin had trouble with. His entire life the term had elicited memories of syringes, of electric shocks and foul medicines.

Therapy was now something else but yet the memories remained. That was partially why he was here in the first place, in what the Legion called the quiet room.

Soft furnishes and recliners, a couch pit where Imra sat ready, waving him over with a soft smile.

As the Legion's on-board psychic, Imra was the most experienced in dealing with others' baggage; she had taken courses to better her own skills in therapy.

The kind that helped rather than hurt. Brin joined her, circling around her a few times before sighing as he fell to his side, head in her lap as he breathed slowly.

She had encouraged him to not repress his instincts entirely, accepting the parts of himself he couldn't change and focusing on the things he most wanted to improve on.

His anger issues, his nightmares that threatened the control he had over the beast within.

'Clear your mind. I can hear you over-thinking already.' Imra teased with the friendly nature he had come to expect from the Legion.

He'd never had friends like this before. Vague memories of rough friend groups back on Zoon and then solitude on Rawl.

He preferred this by a long shot.

'There we go. Now, steady yourself.' She instructed, placing the fingertips of her left hand to her temple while the right were placed on his.

Immediately flashes of memory threatened to overwhelm him. He saw his mother clearer than he had in years, he re-lived the time he raised a chick to adulthood and set it free, how jealous he had been but also relieved.

"You kept that chick safe from your fathers experiments, you gave it a chance at life."

"I've taken too."

Memories of killing for food, the murderous blood lust directed at his father. It made his inner beast roar out.

"You did what you needed to survive and in the end you chose mercy, a choice not many would make."

Imra's voice cut through the cacophony of anger, turning the roiling memories into a gentle pond. He picked out memories he thought she might like.

Showed her the flower grove he would sleep in before it was discovered, an old mine on Zoon that had graffiti that glowed in the dark.

She took it all in, thanking him for showing her. Belatedly he realised her fingers were stroking over his head, petting him like a cat and he purred, melting into the feeling as she helped put the broken pieces of his psyche in order.

"Are you having trouble with your form?"

"I have nightmares and wake up transformed but I'm in control."

"That's wonderful, Brin. You know we would never expect you to use it in battle."

"I know. But if I can protect my friends with it then I feel like it's worth it… Makes me feel like less of a monster."

"One day you'll see what I see."

"And what do you see?"

She showed him, taking him from his mind to hers, showing her the memories she had of that first encounter, the fear turning into thanks, the horror that she shared at his revelations of his father.

She had been angry, furious.

"How could he?" She repeated and Brin moved to nuzzle against her lap.

"You were angry for me…"

"I still am, my friend" she assured him, taking him to happier memories, Brin cooking for the bake sale, playing video games with Chuck.

It was strange to see himself but validating to see that the word monster never came up in her mind at seeing him.

The hand stroking his black hair didn't stop, grounding them both as she severed the link, chain by delicate silver chain. Their minds separate now they stayed in silence and existed for a moment longer in tranquil peace.

#brin londo #imra ardeen #timberwolf #Saturn girl #drabble response #LOSH fanfiction

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thevindicativevordan · 3 years

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My Take on a Superman Video Game

I've seen other people give their takes on how to approach this, and given Superman and video games are two major topics of interest for me, I thought I'd give my pitch.

So first off, I’m giving him a health bar. Yes I know some people will b**** and no I don’t care. I don’t care what people who get their Superman knowledge from YouTube or Instagram “fact” pages think about the character, and all the other attempts such as the city health bar in the Returns game didn’t satisfy me. So right off the bat he’s getting a health bar. Second: it’s time to start showing casuals areas of Superman lore they either don’t know about or aren’t very familiar with. The reason for that is people think they “know” Superman so we need to immediately show something they DON’T know about or HAVEN’T seen already to get them to not immediately dismiss Superman out of hand based on memes or whatever. Which leads into my third creative point. Third: I’m not setting the first game in Metropolis. The Arkham games didn’t immediately throw you into an open world Gotham, they built up to it. The Spider-Man PS4 game started off with an open world because they were able to build upon dozens of Spider-Man games that laid the ground work for them. The first Superman game in decades needs to avoid biting off more than it can chew, and throwing Superman into an open world feels like a bad idea. So where can it be? Well there are options. There’s Warworld. There’s Apokolips. But I think the best location is one that’s intrinsically tied to Superman and his Kryptonian background, and serves as a nice counterpart to Batman starting out in Arkham Asylum: The Phantom Zone

The Asylum was a great starting point for Batman for a couple reason: 1. It’s the iconic prison where Batman leaves his Rogues, 2. It’s gothic and horror esque vibe crafts the perfect atmosphere, and 3. it’s place as a center for examining the mind makes it great for exploring Batman’s mental state. For similar reason the PZ is the perfect place to start off Superman: 1. It likewise is an iconic prison for Superman Rogues 2. It’s science fiction and horror mixed together which crafts the perfect atmosphere for Superman to kick ass or be introspective, and 3. It lets Kal come face to face with his Kryptonian heritage in the nastiest way possible as he’s dumped into a place filled with prisoners his father helped exile as well as all the other monsters and criminals other races have dumped there. So he’s going to the Zone but how does he get there and what’s the story? It would be boring if he just walked in. Here’s the pitch: It’s Year 2 of Superman’s career. He’s already established himself as a hero in Metropolis and worldwide. The public knows he claims to mean them no harm and that he only seems to do good deeds, but they know very little about his origins and are divided as to his true intentions. The problem is Clark himself doesn’t really know his origins either beyond knowing he’s an alien from another planet. His only relics from his home planet are the rocket, a tablet written in a language he can’t read, and a curious device that doesn’t seem to have any use. As a show of goodwill, and because he hasn’t made any progress understanding them himself, Clark turns the tablet and the device over to STAR Labs for study. One day as he’s beating down some Intergang thugs, reality twists, and suddenly Clark finds himself in a place that is definitely not Metropolis. The “earth” is chalk white, the sky is a purple, green lightning flashes around as far as he can see, and where the sun should be there’s instead a black hole. Somehow Clark and the terrified Intergang thugs have ended up in the Phantom Zone with no idea of how they got there and how to get back.

The thugs accuse Clark of transporting them there and attack him, with Clark suddenly realizing his powers are fading in this place with no sunlight. Luckily a stranger arrives and aids Clark in dispatching the thugs. Clark thanks him for his aid and then asks who he is. The stranger pauses and tells Clark: “My name is Dru-Zod, a general of Krypton”. He raises a hand for Clark to shake. “I was a friend of your father, Kal-El”. Zod tells Kal about the place he’s in, and his history with it. He tells him that other humans have been brought here as well besides the Intergang thugs, including many of Clark’s foes. Zod informs Clark that the likely culprit for their arrival to the PZ is the very first prisoner Jor-El ever banished to the Phantom Zone: Xa-Du the Phantom King, who has spent so long imprisoned that he seems to have obtained a degree of control over the Zone that gives him strange powers. Kal is told that if he does not collect the scattered humans and escape the Zone soon, he and the humans will become trapped there, as anyone who spends too long in the Zone eventually becomes unable to leave without special equipment on the other side to bring them back, thanks to the way the Zone warps the inhabitants. Kal’s mission is clear: Collect the scattered humans, defeat and pacify his foes trapped there with him so they can be brought back as well, and defeat the Phantom King before he tears a hole between the Zone and the real world that could cause catastrophe for Earth. That’s the basic story pitch, next I’ll go into gameplay mechanics and what Rogues I’d use.

Clark starts the game having been de powered back to “Golden Age” power levels due to there being no sun in the PZ. Zod teaches him about Sunstones that grow naturally in the PZ, which will allow him to slowly re-empower himself. The Sunstones ward off the PZ’s influence and basically act as perk points for Clark to unlock and upgrade his powers. At the start he can’t fly, he can only run and leap. Zod acts as Kal’s mentor throughout the game, teaching him about Kryptonian history and how to read the language. He also tutors him in the dangers of the Phantom Zone as well as training him to hone his powers. Kal gets the feeling there’s more to Zod than he’s letting on though, and some of his comments raise Kal’s suspicions. The base of the game is the Fortress of Solitude.

It’s backstory is that when Jor-El first discovered the PZ, he built the FoS as a research outpost to study the place. It’s packed full of Kryptonian tech and it has the ability to shift back into the natural world. Zod couldn’t use it because it’s caretaker Kelex only responds to House El members. However it won’t shift back until it judges its user “sterilized” in order to avoid contaminating the natural world with the Zone’s influence. Because Kal was brought over so suddenly and without the proper tech, he has to use Sunstones to purge the Zone from his body before the Fortress will respond to his commands. This is a nice way of tying the gameplay and story together. Kal needs the stones to save the civilians and to go home, which helps explain why he might do side quests rather than stick with just the main questline. Civilians Superman has to rescue in the Zone: Lois Lane, Perry White, Jimmy Olsen, Dr. Veritas, Ron Troupe, Dr. John Henry Irons, Dr. Hamilton, Bibbo, Dr. Hank Henshaw and his family, Commissioner Henderson, Captain Maggie Sawyer, Detective Turpin, members of the Newskids Legion, Morgan Edge, and other OCs or nameless civilians. Kal also meets Krypto, who was transported into the Zone by Jor-El in order to watch over the Fortress as its guard, in order to keep it safe so that Kal might one day reclaim it. Rogues: Some of Superman’s Rogues have been teleported to the PZ as well, and unfortunately they have their own plans for escaping the Zone, even if it means they have to kill Superman to do it.

Metallo: John Corbyn is a cyborg soldier that served in the US Army under Sam Lane and was created as the government’s Anti-Superman deterrent. After a fight with Superman in his early career left him crippled, he was bonded to a nanosuit that equips him with various weaponry capable of killing Superman. He believes Superman transported everyone there as part of a first strike against humanity. Parasite: A Lexcorp lab experiment gone horribly wrong, Rudy Jones is a science fiction vampire who needs to kill to sustain himself. He absorbs the memories and skills of whoever he kills, and he is able to transform his body into various weapons (think Alex Mercer from [PROTOTYPE] to know what I mean). He’s hunting the civilians to feed on and has his eye on Superman as well. Livewire: Leslie was a vlogger with a far looser code of ethics than Clark. Her “reporting” eventually angered the wrong people who attempted to have her assassinated. Instead Leslie ended up with powers over electromagnetism, and a grudge against Morgan Edge who she believes was behind the Intergang hit on her. Edge is her target but she doesn’t mind stepping over Superman’s corpse if she has to. The Terran (Terra-Man): Krypton wasn’t the only planet to discover the Phantom Zone. One alien race banished the immortal hunter known as the Terran, whose human name was Tobias before he was abducted by aliens who were interested in the potential of the human meta gene and wanted to experiment on him. Their experiment was a success and Tobias broke free, using their own weaponry to hunt them down and carve a bloody path across the stars. Eventually he was transported to the PZ and is now desperate to escape. Mr. Mxy: Who is this creature? Neither a human nor seemingly an alien prisoner of the PZ, Mxy engages Clark in a series of puzzles that reveal secrets about the PZ... and foretell of threats to come. Red Cloud: An enforcer for the Invisible Mafia, her only loyalty is to her boss Leone. Her identity is a secret from Clark for now and she intends for it to remain that way. Silver Banshee: Not every human teleported to the PZ was unchanged. Some reacted much more strongly to the Zone’s influence. One former human has now been twisted into the sinister Silver Banshee, driven insane by the whispers in the Zone and the alterations to her body. She poses a formidable threat to Clark in her current state. Xa-Du: The Phantom King and first prisoner of the Phantom Zone sent from Krypton. Zod claims he was insane even before he was sent here but his incarceration has done nothing to improve his health if so. Gleefully plotting his return to the real world, Xa’s only desire is to raise an army of super zombies with himself as their Necrogod ruler. His time in the Zone has given him control over the degraded Phantoms, and he can channel the energies permeating the Zone into a variety of attacks (basically he’s a space necromancer). His aim is to corrupt Kal-El and the Fortress and use both to travel to Earth and he will never stop hunting Kal. Non boss mooks for Clark to fight: Phantoms - Some of the inhabitants of the Zone have degenerated into the ghostly Phantoms, their only desire to spread their suffering to others. They have been so warped by the Zone they’ve become a part of it and are thus incapable of permanently dying. Shades - Much more powerful Phantoms, Shades retain some memory of their former lives and posses some of their former skills. They serve as the elite of Xa-DU’s forces. Shadowbreed - Native creatures of the PZ, these beings feed on the light of the SunStones and thus see Clark as a meal as well. They possess various animals of the PZ to attack and feed on him. Eradicators - Once these machines served House El in their study of this place acting as defenders. But time has eroded their programming and they now seek to destroy even the Last Son of their old House.

That's the basic of my pitch, I think it's a fairly manageable one that addresses a lot of the arguments you get from people about why a game "wouldn't work" or whatever.

#superman #the phantom zone #supermangame #krypto the superdog #fortress of solitude

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ncass-lunarium · 2 years

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Where do you think your fascination with vampires comes from?

That is a fantastic question - and one that is weirdly complicated for me to answer. I hope you're ready for the wall of text and labyrinth of reasoning that comes with asking someone about a core part of themselves.

I always thought vampires were super cool growing up and I guess in a sense identified with them - I naturally had dark hair, pale skin, long nails, and perpetually cold hands (that's just bad circulation - I got better). I was also a huge loner in school, so there's that sort of "power in solitude" thing that vampires have going on - after all, vampires find power in the shadows and don't need strong allies to pose a huge threat. (I am pleased to report, however, that I am no longer a huge loner - now I content myself with being a strong introvert with a handful of friends.) Lame as it might sound, identifying with a mythical creature like that was a way to feel strong during a time when I felt I had no control over my life.

…Plus, I’ve always cherished the silence and starry sky of nighttime. I find the afternoon hours far too busy, and the afternoon heat in the areas I lived all my life is crushing. As a not-so-wise man once put it, "The sun sucks."

An assortment of writing-related reasons:

* vampires possess humanoid intelligence, often portrayed as highly intelligent, which is fun for long-term schemes and makes them more interesting to write than some other monsters

* vampires are capable of possessing a moral compass (or not), so they're flexible as characters

* vampires have functional immortality, often undone by tragic folly which is always fun to write

* any human can become a vampire, further increasing the potential for drama

Various personal reasons:

* I'm a big fan of Gothic horror and by extension the "traditional" vampire stories like Dracula and Carmilla (even though they both have issues stemming from the time period).

* My parents had the first three of Anne Rice's Lestat books in the house. (I liked the first two well enough, but I never got around to finishing Queen of the Damned.)

* My father played the Vampire: The Masquerade tabletop game as a kid, but I was never allowed to play or watch because of its obviously mature elements. In a sense, that just added an air of mystery to the game for me. There were a few trading cards from VtM floating around the house, though. (White Lily was my favorite - can't recall any others.)

* I'm a big fan of the Castlevania games, especially the GBA ones. The PS2 games in particular had fantastic atmosphere.

* It might be a bit basic, but traditional vampires have a cool aesthetic. (I probably would have been a goth in school if I could have afforded it.)

* I’m basically nocturnal. As I write this, the sun is rising, and I need to sleep so I can go to work in the evening.

...Now, with all this being said, I am capable of writing things that aren't vampire-related, I promise! I just happen to be writing a very vampire-related saga right now, and it keeps spiralling out of control just a little bit in the way that creativity does.

#big ramble #i need sleep #it's morning

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ilkkawhat · 3 years

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to fall on deaf ears

[prompted by myself, using "I never ask for help because I'm not sure I know how." + "It's alright to feel broken every once and a while. And it's alright to take time to heal." off of that prompts list to expand on a vague idea I got from a dream a few months ago. read on ao3 here or continue below]

“If you got a callout tomorrow to the restaurant where you got shot and Officer Clark died, could you focus?”

He pretends that it’s just like any other restaurant that serves them up a crime scene. He ignores that even while the name of the restaurant had changed, just as he had changed his exterior style with a buzzed head, the insides were still the same. There’s still the slits of warm, golden yellow light lining the walls, radiating a gentle glow to add to the elegant, intimate atmosphere.

There’s still the brick tunnel that’s overlit with fluorescence, a segue into the kitchen where it all started.

Where it all went so horribly wrong.

He can still see the pool of blood seeping down the corridor. Spreading to the walls under an imposing shadow answering his desperate calls that fall on dead ears.

He can still smell the gunpowder.

“Could you be there for your team?”

Sara puts a hand on his shoulder, gently shaking him. She gives him a look and he shrugs her off, eyes fluttering and plastering on a smile to indicate he’s fine.

He gets to work.

“Would you want you backing you up right now?”

He thinks he’s okay, just one step at a time. One breath at a time. There’s no more threat, the restaurant has been cleared so they can investigate the body lying motionless on the floor.

A body lying in a pool of blood. Arms spread, eyes closed.

A discarded weapon just out of reach.

A body that doesn’t just look like him…

It is him.

A shaky laugh mingles with a sharp breath, shaking his head in disbelief, he thinks about pinching himself because he must be dreaming, he’ll wake up in just a minute and get his assignment to an unrelated case that doesn’t have his name written anywhere except for his signature on the field report.

But even as he falls to the floor out of a reflex—the same reflex he had in a house of a hoarder—when there’s a loud crash from the kitchen that sounds not completely, but still close enough to a gunshot, he realizes this isn’t a dream.

It’s a waking nightmare.

“Nick!” Sara calls, reaching out her arms after Nick immediately backs away, shielding his shot arm with his other. An embarrassing whimper mixes with his cry—his plea of “No!” and Sara eventually gives up as he huddles himself under a table, a small table that would seat a couple on a date that he then knocks over to protect himself with the same barricade that Ray and Papa—the real target of the mad doctor who viewed Nick as nothing but a nuisance in his way, and treated him as such when he shot him without any sort of hesitation or bargaining or empty threat of telling him to back off—which he wouldn’t have done anyway, of course, but perhaps in hindsight, in another dimension, perhaps he would find himself behind the safety of the table. Perhaps he would have been able to fire a few more shots to incapacitate the serial killer.

“Nick—” Sara starts again.

“Get down!” Nick warns her, because there’s a shadow approaching from the kitchen—he readies his gun—his finger on the trigger—

“Nick, no!”

Sara bats the gun out of Nick’s hand, but the damage is done. A shot is fired, and it’s fortunately a miss, lodging its way into the cemented wall of bricks, engulfed in the shadow cast by one of the stationed uniforms meant to babysit the CSIs as they conduct their investigation.

“Jesus Christ, Stokes! What, did you think I was a ghost or something?” the officer sneers with a red face, and Sara shoots the man a sharp glare before placing herself in front of Nick.

Any words he may have had to bite back were lost anyway to his hyperventilation, still trapped in the morbidly vivid flashback of the shooting. Clark’s shooting. His shooting.

This wasn’t just any restaurant.

This is where he was shot.

And this is where Nick Stokes almost died.

That’s his reasoning for his unfortunate reaction to what he thought was a real threat, but just as before, his call falls on deaf ears and he’s exiled from the restaurant and stripped of his defenses.

Catherine soon rolls up with the coroner, having been called immediately. Their eyes only just meet as she gets an earful from Brass, who is ranting on about how she should have known better than to send Nick there, especially not after what had happened.

Nick did have to wonder if this was some spiteful attempt to show him that no, he’s not fine. That he needs to go back to therapy. That he has a twisted definition of recovery to the point where he thinks he’s already recovered when really, there’s still blood on his hands and a hole dangerously close to his heart.

And to make matters somehow even worse, the next scene he’s sent to after a brief suspension that’s sugar coated as “mandatory vacation,” is with the good doctor himself, and across the street from the Clark family.

They are among the prying bystanders that flock the perimeter of the crime scene tape. He approaches them, because he feels they are owed an explanation, not just for the horrors that happened on their street, but for the horrors of the past that he never got a chance to testify to. Not to them, at least. They didn’t want to hear him.

And unsurprisingly, they don’t want to hear him now either.

The children hug around their mother, and Clark’s widowed wife spits in Nick’s face before he can even open his mouth. The nearby uniforms don’t stop try to stop the commotion, as murmurs through the crowd then break out, “is that the CSI that killed Clark?”

He knows they wouldn’t listen to the truth even if he told them.

He nods as respectfully as he can, before turning away and coiling his fist as he walks back towards Ray.

“You okay?” Ray asks in a careful voice.

“Yeah, yeah, fine,” Nick shakes off.

“That was Officer Clark’s family, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah...Ye—” Nick stops mid sentence, losing his breath and his face contorts into a reluctant cry that he pushes back down into his chest, pressurizing the pulsing wound that stings near his heart. He shakes his head and keeps walking, not allowing himself to break down in front of his esteemed colleague, let alone the general public.

He’ll hold it in, as he always does, until he’s safe in the privacy of his own home.

But as he’ll soon come to find out, that privacy is just as much of a facade as the bravado he continues to put on in order to do his job.

So instead, he settles for the brief moments of privacy he gets in the locker room, which has always acted as a sort of sanctuary for him, dating back to his days on the football field in high school, or the baseball field in college. The time to reflect after a long and grueling game, the adrenaline having sweated out of his body and he gets a moment to think to himself before he has to either celebrate a win or mourn a loss with the rest of the team. The rest of his family.

The time to gather himself before he goes to a home that’s not a true home.

It’s a broken one.

A home where monsters spy on him. Where demons attack him.

Where he can’t sleep without fearing that the wrong move will blow it all up.

“Nicky?”

He lifts his head, and drops the shirt that he was holding in his hands.

“Were...you listening to anything I just said?” Catherine asks in a slow voice.

“Yuh-huh,” Nick smiles as he picks up the shirt, quickly putting it on to cover the scars that seem to scream out of his skin.

He hopes that she doesn’t pick it up too, and realize that it’s the same shirt he wore the day Warrick died.

“You seemed like you got lost for a minute,” she smiles sweetly at him, scratching the top of his head. “What’s the matter?”

“What do you mean? Nothing’s the matter.”

“Nick. I’ve known you for over eleven years now,” Catherine sighs. “You may look like you have a healthy body, but that tired look in your eyes tells me...you don’t have a healthy mind.”

He meets her eyes, glistening with the same softness that his mother had on the night that she came home to find him sitting in the dark.

And for once, he tells the truth in a call that falls on listening ears.

“I never ask for help because I’m not sure I know how,” Nick admits, his eyes still transfixed on the shaking hands in front of him. “I just...I still feel so...so…”

Broken.

Catherine sits down next to Nick, taking one of his fidgeting hands and curling her fingers between his. She wraps her other arm around his shoulder, hugs him tight to her body.

“It’s alright to feel broken every once and a while,” she tells him. “And it’s alright to take time to heal.”

Nick nods silently, his lips quivering as he tries to stop the flood of tears by shutting his eyelids, but one still rolls down his cheek on the side of his face and onto the hand that’s holding him.

“And you will heal,” she assures him. “I promise.”

He hasn’t healed from the shooting, no matter how much he pretends that it didn’t affect him.

The ghost of Officer Clark still haunts him, as well as the souls he’s taken by his own bullets.

He hasn’t healed from being buried alive almost six years ago, his newfound claustrophobia and aversion to fire ants in particular conflicting with the longing for solitude and his new passion for entomology.

He still hears Walter Gordon’s voice telling him what’s going to happen every time he’s trapped by a green light.

Even though it was a long time ago, he hasn’t healed from the slow burning terror of being stalked. Before he moved out of the house, he would slowly discover things that Crane had moved, altered or even taken from him.

Yet he still has one of his jackets that Crane had “graciously” picked up from the dry cleaner’s.

And he’s definitely had plenty of guns shoved in his face, and with every new barrel he stares down he feels himself transforming into something hard, something that will take a lot more to damage—but he still hasn’t healed from that very first time outside of the training field.

He wonders, if Holly Gribbs hadn’t died, would he have died in her place?

“It just feels like I never will,” his voice, fully warbled in a sob that tangles his throat. “I-I haven’t f-for years.”

And he will never heal from the childhood trauma that he’s done everything he could to drown with repression, only for it to resurface with the same ease as a beach ball floating in water. Following him. Bumping into him, reminding him of what happened that night and what was taken from him.

“You will, Nicky. You most definitely will. And I’ll be here, we’ll all be here for you until you do.”

She cups his head to her chest and lets him release the tangled web that’s ensnared him, only letting him go when he feels he’s ready, and helps him stand back up and take his first step into a full recovery.

#csi fic #nick stokes #catherine willows #sara sidle #ray langston #csi 10x23 #mk.fic #mk.op #i was gonna cheekily send the prompts as an ask to myself but lol i figured that'd be a bit lame #(you can actually legit send asks to yourself and not on anon)#sorry i like to see you suffer nick #nick and catherine #also i haven't written a lot of nick and cath fics

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aforrestofstuff · 4 years

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I’ve been looking at your posts for a while now and I love your Headcanons so much! I only made an acc today just to thank you for making these! Also I’ve also seen your A03 acc and read your fanfics there and I think you’re a great writer! I wrote a huge comment on one of your stories just rambling about how much I like your tumblr and works but I don’t think it sent cause I don’t have an A03 :( today I’m 15 and I was wondering if you’d make Headcanons for how you think S Class heroes would celebrate their birthdays (if that’s alright of course I don’t wanna make you do anything you don’t wanna) and also just a question, why don’t you do PPP headcanons at all? He’s an S Class Hero and I think he’s the only hero you skip out on. Other then that, keep making these headcanons cause they are great and inspire me for my own OPM crack storie book I created (Random One Punch Man Crack Fanfictions on Wattpad i only wrote one story there and only said it if you’re interested)

Thank you thank you thank you so much. I’ve already sent you a dm but I just wanted to say it again because I’m literally vibrating with happiness. Happy birthday <3.

Birthday Headcanons:

Terrible Tornado: Sticks a candle in a store-bought cupcake and calls it a day. She’ll go get her nails and hair done, buy herself a new dress, and just spend the entire time relaxing. Fubuki used to throw her parties when they were kids but she doesn’t really expect that from her anymore.

Silverfang: His disciples used to get together and throw him a surprise party every year. However, ever since the Garou Incident, Charanko will take it upon himself to fill the void somewhat and scrape together enough money to buy a cake (or the ingredients to make one) and a small gift. Silverfang can go both ways: he likes people but he can also be quiet and reflective. So, he has a great time regardless of whether or not he has a party and spends the day enjoying nature, meditating, and being thankful for living as long as he has.

Atomic Samurai: He’s not antisocial by any stretch of the word but he prefers to celebrate this day only with those closest to him. He and his disciples do something new every year and it’s always grounded and casual. Sometimes they’ll all go out to drink, sometimes Okama and Iaian will prepare a feast, sometimes they’ll have lighthearted competitions on who’s the best swordsmaster (with weird contests like who can balance their sheaths on their head the longest and who can catch the hilt of their blade after doing a backflip 3 consecutive times). Good times all around. However, if someone mentions Atomic Samurai’s age, he will sass them to oblivion.

Child Emperor: He doesn’t really plan to do anything out of the ordinary. It’s mostly just business as usual on his birthday. But after meeting Zombieman, however, he practically gets dragged out of the lab and into something special each year. Whether it’s a horror movie marathon, a late-night drive to catch a glittering view of the city, or just chilling and stuffing themselves on sweets, it makes Zombieman a little sad to see wasted youth knowing his life (and age) is as fucked up as it is so he tries to make the kid have at least a little fun the best he can. Child Emperor always has a great time and he now sees the importance of valuing youth and no longer shows shame in pausing his work and enjoying himself every once and a while.

Metal Knight: When he wakes up on his birthday, his alarm clock plays a little tune. That’s about it. He sees no real importance behind age or youth or seniority because as long as he’s at his height of intellect, nothing else matters. Gotta build them robots. It’s business as usual.

King: Holy shit. Shut the blinds. Lock the doors. Silence the phones. It’s game time, baby. Twenty-four hours of blue screen madness. He pigs out on chips, soda, buys himself a cake, and absolutely revels in solitude. He calls his mom each year and they talk for hours on end. She tells him how proud she is of him being a kickass hero and killing monsters and he dies a little inside each time but he loves her nonetheless and keeps up the facade for her sake. She sends him a card with a few coupons and a love-filled note about how much she adores him. He nearly cries each year upon receiving it.

Zombieman: He buys the best cigars he can find, cooks himself a massive T-bone, drinks an entire six-pack of beer, and reclines while watching crime movies. He wears sweatpants, polishes his weaponry, plays Mötley Crüe loud enough for his neighbors to yell at him for it, and just has a great time all by himself. He doesn’t really like parties or get-togethers and even sometimes has to take a break from Child Emperor. This is his day to recharge his social battery and sleep for seventeen hours. This is his day to get absolutely wasted on expensive alcohol and accidentally hotbox his own house. This is his day.

Drive Knight: Pretty much the same as Metal Knight. Whenever the clock strikes midnight on his birthday, a little tune plays in his processing unit and that’s about the end of it.

Pig God: Every restaurant in the damn country has a special on his birthday. He just goes around collecting free food, taking pictures with fans, and eats until he can’t eat anymore (which is a lot). The restaurants he visits have pictures of him eating their food on the walls; he’s become a bit of a indication that if he visits a somewhere to eat, the food’s gotta be bomb as hell. He doesn’t really do anything other than that. He doesn’t really strike up conversation or anything, he just eats in silent contentment and that’s enough for everyone to have a good time.

Superalloy Darkshine: He’s a fan favorite as well. Social media will be blowing up with birthday messages, he’ll be trending on whatever the OPM universe equivalent of Twitter is, and he’ll waste no time going out to meet his fans and spreading birthday happiness. He’ll eat cake, drink with strangers, share laughs and smile without stopping. People will give him little gifts and free food and he accepts it all graciously. Everyone’s invited. Good times all around.

Watchdog Man: This is one of the few days of the year in which he takes the day off from protecting City Q. He’ll just sleep a full twenty-four hours and resume his duty the next day like clockwork each year. Sometimes passerby will leave him little gifts on his podium like meats and dog treats but he doesn’t really take any of it since he’s really particular about what he eats.

Flashy Flash: On this day, he spends time reflecting on how much he’s improved since last year and adopts an extra-vigorous training regimen for the next twenty-four hours. One year, he climbed a mountain in sub-zero temperatures. Another, he ran across a saltwater lake without breaking the surface tension of the water. He spends it alone, occasionally has a drink, and that’s about it. Sometimes he’ll go out to have a nice dinner but that’s only on years he believes he’s deserved it.

Demon Cyborg: He doesn’t really care about his birthday. This makes Doctor Kuseno kind of sad because he believes that Genos is still a kid who deserves to enjoy his birthday like one. So, he does what he can to make the day somewhat special while also pertaining to what Genos could want. This is very hard because Genos never outright says he wishes for anything and that means Kuseno has to do a lot of guesswork. It varies year to year, but the best gift he’s ever given Genos was the sense of taste so the kid could eat birthday cake and enjoy it. Genos isn’t too fond of sweets, he much prefers fruits over cakes, but nevertheless, he was so happy to get one step closer to humanity that something malfunctioned in his head and his hands wouldn’t stop shaking for a whole week.

Metal Bat: Go hard or go home. This fuckin kid pulls an all-nighter with Zenko on the weekend of his birthday to stay inside, build a pillow fort, and play video games. They order pizza, do prank calls, play fighting games, and when the sun comes out they get a couple hours of sleep before riding out again at the height of a sugar high to go to the local carnival (he’s a summer baby) and spend a paycheck’s worth of cash. Once they come home, they collapse in Bad’s bed together, curl up, and fall asleep to some movies.

Tanktop Master: He and the Tanktop Gang have an all-out birthday bash. Everyone and their grandma is invited. There’s food, alcohol, and sports playing on the television in the host’s house (each of them take turns every year). The first few hours of partying, everyone’s having lighthearted fun and watching sports and drinking lightly (Tanktoppers drink responsibly). After that, everyone kind of calms down and they all gather around in the living room and sit on the floor together and just talk about what a great year it is to be alive. They catch up, share stories, eat snacks, and wish Tanktop Master the happiest of birthdays. He absolutely adores spending time with his friends and gives a toast to everyone and their hard work. After that, he goes home and calls his mom before going to bed.

Puri-Puri Prisoner: He and his boyfriend share a slice of birthday cake from the prison cafeteria with a single candle stuck into it. His boyfriend gives him crochet and knitting lessons, they and the other prisoners dance to some music, and the guards give him a pat on the back along with some birthday wishes. That’s about it. There’s only so much he can do in prison, but he makes it work with what he has and has the time of his life nevertheless. Angel Hugs all around.

And to answer your question about PPP, I straight up just forgot he existed akshshshs. I’ll be brainstorming some stuff about him soon. Love you lots 💞💞💞💕

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elmidol · 4 years

Text

The Entangled Strings of Twin Puppets

Three Blind Tooke Part Two Precarious Harmony

Read on AO3

Warnings: nonexplicit mentions of previous noncon situations

In the long pauses before death, we seek solitude in the silence.

There are no poems, no words at all for us to hear.

Merely a look that ties us all together until at last it is gone.

Be careful not to blink, for those long pauses are fleeting moments.

Three Blind Tooke

Part Two: Precarious Harmony

Chapter Twenty-Five: The Entangled Strings of Twin Puppets

You had spent years training with the Resistance in order to deliver a kill shot to one of the New Republic’s most formidable foes: Kylo Ren. He was an enemy the New Republic had been oblivious to, much in the same way they had denied the threat posed by the First Order. That had, ultimately, been their undoing; Starkiller Base, prior to its destruction, had obliterated the entire Hosnian System, the Galactic Senate along with it. Your mother had perished that day. Your father had already passed away during the time you had been absent, though this you had not learned until after you had been taken captive by Kylo Ren. Your body was not the same after the attack that had nearly left you dead; the lightsaber wound had compromised your body. And so now you were to retrain yourself—both physically and emotionally—in order to discover a new means of killing the man that was your captor—your host.

It was ironic, that you were in some twisted way the guest of someone who had imprisoned you. Had done unspeakable things to you—all in order to break you down. The horrors of war were something that not all could understand. The sights that were faced by those at the forefront. The acts committed, all said to be for the sake of the greater good. Each side had its own idea as to what that greater good would be. There were always those torn in the middle. People so conflicted over their morals that they were ripped apart—at times, solely figuratively, while other times a literal instance of this would occur. It was not only the acts or words of the leaders of either side that led to this. For example, General Leia was the mother of Kylo Ren. The man who had formerly been Ben Solo; a fact you had learned only after being made his prisoner. You had been trained to kill him, all the while your general had not wished this. Splinter cells. Every piece working to do what they believed would help the cause.

Ultimately hurting one another. It had broken you completely in ways—to find that you could have compassion for an enemy…empathy. You despised his methods though you understood where they came from.

Both a prisoner and a guest of the Master of the Knights of Ren, you were presently alone in his living quarters. The door was locked, this you well knew, and yet it was not to keep you in. No, it was locked in order to keep out a specific individual.

You had heard much of the First Order’s General Hux prior to meeting the man. When you had spoken with him, you had eventually admitted your respect for him—as a leader, though his ideals were anything but those held by you. You despised what he stood for, and yet… It was with revulsion that you had to admit to yourself yet again that you had allowed the man to touch you, to have sex with you, and on more than one occasion. That he was your enemy was of no consequence; that did not toke the fires of your anger. It was that he had ordered the destruction of the Hosnian system, had essentially ordered your mother’s death—you had had sex with your mother’s killer.

When at last you finished with Kylo Ren, when you were able to kill the man who had stolen your freedom, you would deal with the redhead. You executed another four sit-ups then allowed yourself to lie down to relax. Your stamina was lacking. All the while Kylo Ren was healing from his injuries; his training with his Master would begin within mere days.

Patience. It was a mantra that was repeated in your head six times before you thought to yourself: the Rule of Two. This was what Ren had equated your arrangement with him to. He well knew that your intentions were to become stronger and kill him. All the while he used this as a means to strengthen himself. A façade of harmony.

The two of you.

He wanted to be the center of your world, as he had been for so long. General Hux would be a distraction, his very presence a threat to that rule of two. You grit your teeth and started to raise your torso. Another set of four sit-ups. It was taking its toll on your body, which was out of shape. Sweat dripped down your back. General Hux could not be your focus as much as Kylo Ren. That would render you sloppy, as you had been in the past. Focusing on too much at once. Not being patient.

There is no Resistance, you said in your head. The members of the Resistance would bench you if they could; take what information you were able to provide, yet allow you to assist no further.

In a way, you understood why this would be. It was not only your body that was compromised. You remained steadfast in your loyalties. Still, you could not deny that empathy. That compassion. Understanding your enemy and knowing that there were certain aspects of him that you could… You broke off that thought, afraid of it. Such a terrifying thing, learning that you could hate a number of individuals for what they did…yet care for specific members of that establishment as well.

Why did you kill my comrades? you wanted to ask despite knowing the answer. The sting would never fade. You would always sit there, shell-shocked in the face of the outcome.

You were now acting on your own. It would benefit the Resistance, the galaxy, and yet you were no longer under the rules that had governed your actions in the past. The rules of the New Republic itself. But fuck if my body isn’t resisting me...

You collapsed onto your back again. Tears of frustration stung your eyes. You had known ahead of time that it would take more than a single exercise session to get to where you needed to be. New limits. New rules. Finding a way to balance your loyalties and your heart.

The Rule of Two.

Panting, you listened passively to a quiet beeping that was coming from the device beside your head. The electronic tooke pet Kylo Ren had provided you as a form of entertainment. You reached to the side, lifted the device, and played a small game with the tooke. Your heart took a few moments longer to return to a normal pace. You felt utterly drained of energy, which caused your frown to spread further. You fed the electronic pet, set down the device, and placed both your hands atop your stomach, one above the other.

“You can do this,” you said to yourself. “Just relax. Patience…patience…”

Stars, you thought, you had been in isolation for part of your training as well as while imprisoned. With nothing to do. Biding your time. That had been before you had learned of your father’s demise. Before your mother had been murdered by the actions of the First Order.

A beeping drew you out of your thoughts. You rolled up into a sitting position as Kylo Ren was putting in the code to enter his quarters. And then you were on your feet when the doors opened—and you felt your stomach drop. The nozzle of a blaster was pointed your way. Not Ren. In the place of one monster was another. You lifted your hands into the air to show that you were surrendering—temporarily. A shiver caused your teeth to chatter together. The sweat that had poured from your body during your exercises now assisted in making you too cold.

You glowered at the man holding onto the blaster that was pointed in your direction. “As if I could not get any code that has to do with my ship, tooka,” General Hux said through his snarl. You kept your hands raised in the air for half a second longer before slowly lowering your limbs. Your eyes darted away from his face to the blaster. He seemed to want you alive, which meant it would be set to stun rather than kill. Even if you managed to wrest the weapon out of his grasp, it would do you no good; you recalled that it was encrypted to work only with his fingerprints. The redhead tilted his head back and stared down the length of his nose at you. “You will come out of this room now.”

“You’re…taking me hostage?” you asked mockingly. As if you were a free woman to begin with. You snorted at the thought.

“You may relax if you believe it is my intention to rape you,” he said evenly. You barked out a bitter laugh at that.

“No, General. You do far worse than that, don’t you?” The corner of his mouth twitched, however his expression did not twist away from the frown that was plastered there. You took a step forward towards the open door of Ren’s quarters. The moment you left the sanctity of this room, the moment you were truly taken into custody by the general of the First Order instead of the Master of the Knights of Ren—that would change the game once more. There would be no Rule of Two. There would be three of you once more at that point.

A fresh wave of sweat began to form, beading on your flesh. This time it was from apprehension rather than exertion. Forced upon you instead of self-induced. You began to slide one foot backwards only to pause in your movements. General Hux had quirked a brow, challenging you with that expression.

“Are you content with being a small tooke then?” You narrowed your eyes while you watched him, more suspicion welling up inside of you. “A tooka, at least, has claws and teeth.”

“A tooke can defeat a rancor.”

“If the rancor first consumes it. Toxic… If you plan on eliminating me as well—and I am certain you are—you won’t be so reckless.”

Kriff, you thought as your heart fluttered in your chest. Kriff…he has a point. Or is he just that eloquent? So deceptive?

“You haven’t a choice when it comes down to it. I plan on taking you, whether you’re stunned and I am dragging you, or be it by you walking out of there.” Aware that it would do your compromised body excessive harm, and thus damper your plans, to even be stunned, you slid your foot forward this time. Then, lifting the limb, you took the first step towards the redhead. He said nothing, his face not betraying anything either. The man was observing you as he had so often in the past. Calculating. He knew better than to underestimate you.

You entered the hallway, fully exiting the quarters of Kylo Ren, and the door closed behind you. By then your heart was starting to race again. What sort of sick game were you being thrust into now? This was where General Hux was the player. Perhaps you were only his pawn, as you had been in the past. He waited until you were in front of him then gestured that you keep walking. The gun was pointed at your back.

You had at long last accepted Ren’s suggestion that you were, in some twisted way, his guest—and now you were being stolen away. Another hitch in your plans. No matter, you told yourself; you would adapt to the situation, as you had been forced to do ever since your capture.

“Did it thrill you, knowing that you were ordering my mother’s death?” you asked when the pair of you turned down the second hallway. You were not entirely certain where it was he was taking you. This was not the way to the general’s quarters; you had been there enough times to know better. General Hux did not respond to your inquiry, which caused your face to grow hot in frustration. Anger welled up inside of you. Knowing better than to unleash your rage, knowing that he had the upper hand and would simply shoot you there, you addressed him in a different fashion. “I hear your precious Starkiller Base was destroyed. Good riddance.”

“It is not often I am in the company of such a bitter woman.” A pause. “Turn left here.” You rolled your eyes though you complied all the same. Where? Where? Where am I going? “I do not understand Supreme Leader’s insistence on keeping Ren, on my rescuing him before the destruction of the planet.”

Ah, is this why he’s kidnapping me? It does not seem like him to be so petty. He must have other plans.

“And you…”

“Me?” you asked under your breath, grumbling now. After your mini workout, you were exhausted, though you refused to admit this to the man. In truth, you were nearly ready to collapse.

“You survived his blade in the past,” General Hux replied. You glanced over your shoulder, stumbling your next step. “Not that it hasn’t taken its toll.”

“Do you plan on experimenting on me? To prepare yourself for battle…against Ren?” No response. Not even a twitch. “Do you fancy yourself above him? Or is it… You seem to think so highly of yourself. I don’t see you as being content with being…not only under Ren, but the Supreme Leader as well. Your ideals may be the same, but there can only be one.”

“Has Ren taught you otherwise? That there can be…two, perhaps? Sith lore holds little interest for me, tooka, but I do know enough. He is merely toying with you.”

“You’re not doing anything different. Using me to your own advantage.”

You waited, leaving off on that note to see how he would react. Once more you were met with silence. Your walk was cut short when he directed you to face a door. General Hux reached past you, typing in a code that caused the door to open, and pressed the nozzle of the gun against you to urge you inside. You did not dare disobey, not giving up hope that you could eventually kill this man and the other.

There was not much inside the room. An interrogation table, a chair, and supplies set out on a ledge. “Before your mind goes to places it need not, I do not plan on harming you either. You can be useful to me.”

“Because you want Ren dead?”

“Yes—and that is hardly a secret. Neither of us is exactly fond of the other.” You turned around to face him at long last. General Hux lowered his weapon. “You’re interested to hear what I have to say.” Your bottom lip trembled as a wave of emotions went through you. This was your mother’s executioner. “Not all Sith have only a single teacher. And Ren is no Sith. His Rule of Two is a farce. I do understand the similarities. For you to reject my help… I suppose we would have our own duo as well. Wherein we wish to kill the other. Are using one another for our own purposes.”

It was supposed to have been just Kylo Ren and you. The Rule of Two. A third party. A second Rule of Two. That did not add up.

He was ruining everything.

He was perhaps your only means of defeating Kylo Ren, who would be receiving help from an outside party as well—Snoke. In a way, it only made sense. You would be allowed to discover some of General Hux’s weaknesses as well.

“You really don’t care that you’re responsible for my mother’s death.”

“I do not.”

You curled your hands into fists and grit your teeth. It took you a few moments to gather yourself. “This plan of yours—Ren will know.”

“His paranoia will be useful. He wants you. While he says that he would be willing to kill you, I doubt the sincerity in his words. Now, I need an answer, tooka.”

“Fine.” You felt numb saying it.

There had been two.

And now there were three—soon to be four, when Supreme Leader began his training. Puppets often did not know the identity of the true puppet master. There were layers of veils and curtains, each blocking the view one needed in order to see who it was that happened to be pulling the strings. You had the unfortunate advantage of knowing exactly who was pulling your strings. Kylo Ren and General Hux were the guilty parties. In the past, the Resistance had dictated your actions. Supreme Leader Snoke was doing all he could to manage the strings that held the Knight and General. All three of you, puppets in a play. The puppet master could be murdered, could become too confident in his role. Without his puppets, he would be nothing.

Thus with General Hux revealing his readiness to play against Kylo Ren, you were happy to jump at the chance to assist him. These two puppets. The main attractions of Snoke’s play. While you made an educated guess that more puppets were behind the scenes, you would leave them to the Resistance. Your focus would remain on where you could do the most damage, be effective in any way given that you were at the disadvantage with your health as it was.

At least now you would be allowed to use the First Order’s training facilities—within reason. General Hux was clever, and you sincerely doubted he would give you too much slack. That would be a noose around his throat.

General Hux was more than happy to display the smoking gun before Ren. You. You were a plaything for either of them. A willing puppet. It was the only semblance of freedom for you. This was your mindset as you crossed down the hallways and corridors of the Finalizer. You could hardly walk straight. Exhaustion from your meager exercise routine was setting in. You were equally drained on an emotional level. How long had you been playing this game with the two?

It had been longer with Ren than Hux. The Force user had snatched you from the fires of death—quite literally.

A monster that fed on the innocent; that had been the cause of many nightmares for you as a child. It had supposedly lived underneath one’s bed. If one were to place their foot over the edge of the bed, they could feel the monster’s breath. It had terrified you when you were younger. Caused you to rush to and from the bathroom when you found the need to use a toilet. As you grew older, your monsters changed shape—they became real.

The monster you had spent years training to hunt had taken your virginity. He had raped you on more than one occasion… And then you had had sex with him of your own accord—in a way. Being that you were a prisoner, your consent would be under scrutiny by many, and rightly so. The ability to consent meant you had freedom. Ironically, Kylo Ren granted you that amount of freedom, moreso now that you understood what it meant to be his guest.

Your host and captor was in his quarters when you arrived. He was seated on the edge of the bed, his elbows resting on his knees as he took you in. No mask, you noted. “You already know.” The words slipped from your tongue easily enough, and Kylo Ren offered a simple nod in response. “If the enemy of my enemy is my friend…that would mean both you and the General are my friends.”

“Ironic…” His voice trailed off, his thought not entirely spoken. It was strange, the familiarity you felt while with him. Alone. He had kept you isolated save for when he desired your company. You had learned to enjoy his touch, while at the same time you recoiled from it. Over time you had come to understand him, his brokenness. In a former life of his, he had been the son of your General Organa. Funny; she had never revealed that her son was your enemy. “You’re a resourceful woman…and the general is cunning. I should have suspected such results sooner.”

It took a great man to admit he was wrong. You admired your enemies’ strengths. Doing otherwise would be foolish, and allow them to gain the advantage.

“That first time you forced your way into my head… Why did you memorize the memories I pushed forward to keep you away from information on the Resistance?”

“I could feel you dying,” Kylo Ren stated simply. Your mind wandered once more to the way the lightsaber had felt piercing through your flesh. The smell of burning bodies, your comrades being incinerated in order to become a part of Ren’s ash collection. You had lain there waiting for your turn. Buried underneath the corpses of your fallen allies, you had anticipated it. Had welcomed death though a small portion of you had feared it as well. “In the Force… A light flickering in and out, fading… I reached out towards you—and when I discovered that it was you, the long-distance shooter that had taken my blade, I grew curious.

“I believed you would be easy to break. That it would be no trouble to take from your mind information on the Resistance, on the cell you were a part of. Those who have attempted to block me out in the past never offered up such personal information. It is with reluctance that I enter the minds of others…”

“You enjoy entering my head though?” you asked, the beginning of your question filled with a level of animosity that dwindled as you neared the end. It was hitting you in full, the meaning behind your own words. He enjoyed you. It was not as though these thoughts hadn’t floated through your mind before; you knew a part of him cared for you. This new depth made you uncomfortable. Admitting to yourself that, had the two of you been aligned with one another, the pair of you would have possibly loved each other.

Shrinking away from the thought, you transferred your gaze to the wall behind Kylo Ren. It was so plain. Sometimes you missed being on a planet. Even when you had been with the Resistance, you had felt homesick. Home is where the heart is.

Your parents were dead. You had been fighting for them—for everyone, but for them especially. You crossed Ren’s quarters until you arrived at the surface that had so held your gaze. Kylo Ren did nothing to deter you. He remained silent; the only noise coming from him was his breathing. It was familiar to you, relaxing. A part of you wondered why it was General Hux had once more forced his way into your life. It would benefit you, to be certain; and yet, in some ways, it had come too soon. There were pros and cons to the deal you had with him. Accepting his help as you were… You shook your head again.

“Before… When you had first captured me, I had been able to exercise for a slightly longer duration before tiring. Am I worse now? Will things continue this way?” In a way, you were speaking to yourself. Yet you did not mind Kylo Ren listening in on your musings. “Accepting the General’s assistance… He may provide the medical care I need as well, which is the only way I can hope to defeat you.”

“I hardly fault you for placing yourself into a position that will be to your advantage.” Hearing him say this caused your mind to stop racing. You lifted both your hands, running them along the top of your head. “It is no different than my own training.” You half turned to stare at his back. You wondered if he sometimes watched you simply by using the Force. He had already stated that he felt for you, that that was how he had discovered you were the one still alive. Which meant he had quite probably been meditating as your comrades had been placed into that furnace.

You had dreamed of what it would have been like to be burned alive. Those were never nightmares for you. Bad dreams, perhaps; but you would not label them as nightmares. At that point in time, you had been in a poorer position, had not accepted that you and Ren could use one another. The majority of the time you were with him, you had dreamed of home. Alas, when you had returned to Naboo, it had been…unpleasant at best. A nightmare, your mind supplied.

Kylo Ren rose from the bed while you watched him. The man moved towards the refresher, into which he disappeared. You crossed the room as well. Stripping out of your clothes, you set both your hands on the mattress. You wore only your underwear. This allowed you to stare down at your scars. The one from where Kylo Ren had pierced you, and another where he had singed you in the side with his lightsaber while interrogating another Resistance member. You grit your teeth at that memory. The man had broken, spilling secrets you had insisted he could hold—you could have taken it, even if it had meant your death.

You slipped your hands along the mattress as you climbed onto the bed in full. Your abdomen was sore. Fatigue was setting in. Hmm… It’s close to time for a new chip… Could that be the cause? The endometriosis…all my internal injuries… The doctor said… Each of your thoughts trailed off, though they strung together quite nicely. You laid down on the bed, curling up on your side so that you could properly watch the door to the refresher.

It was part of your arrangement with Kylo Ren that your medical needs would be taken care of. You curled your arms around your midsection. Having believed that he was simply using the toilet, you clicked your tongue against the roof of your mouth in annoyance upon hearing the shower turn on. He would be cleaning his wounds and changing his bandages. You did not want to wait that long to ask him the questions that had arisen in your mind. Thus you shimmied to the opposite edge, dangled your legs over the side of the bed, and moved up onto your feet.

The door was not locked, not that you had expected it to be. Kylo Ren wanted to be kept on his toes with you. Allow you chances to attack—only now, you would bide your time more and not be foolish in your attempts. You pushed open the door and walked over to the toilet. You sat on the closed lid, your arms once more around your midsection.

“When will the chip be switched?” you asked, ensuring that your voice was loud enough to carry over the sound of the spray. Kylo Ren merely muttered out your name. You waited for several seconds before deciding to humor him. Your hands pushed down your panties and then you busied yourself with unhooking your bra. You climbed into the steaming shower with him.

Immediately you were pleased that you did so. The warmth felt great on your body. Ren did not make it a point to touch you, nor did he deliberately avoid you. He brushed against you here and there as he washed himself. You were allowed to remain under the spray for the most part, save for when the man required it to rinse off soap. Ren once more stepped into the spray, and you pressed your front against his back.

“A physical exam is scheduled for tomorrow,” he said. “It may not be due to the need for a replacement chip, although the possibility is likely… You’ve adjusted the way you had been exercising. You have hardly taken into consideration that the majority of your training occurred prior to your death.”

That was true, you noted, setting your palms flat against his shoulder blades. The man hardly flinched under your touch, though he did tense a little. He was not one who enjoyed others touching him without his permission. You had taken note of this; it was a reason you had always been baffled by the fact that he often had contact with you. Kylo Ren shifted around, turning so that your hands were on his chest. You tilted back your head to peer up at his face.

The scar was faint, yet it was there. Your eyes traveled along it before you met his gaze in full. “That was your fault.” That you had died—he had placed you in the care of Miovtha. And that you had lived; his reaction to your death… “Had I been on… That is to say—if either of us had been on the opposite side with the other…me with the First Order, or you with the Resistance…”

“Are you looking for affection due to losing your parents?” He often deflected when it came to anything remotely sentimental. Your eyes dropped to his chest, and you rested your head there. This man had killed his father; he had told you as much, had chastised you for even momentarily mourning Han Solo. Your hands shifted down to the light scar that was the remains of his bowcaster wound. He had used a generous amount of bacta and other ointments to reduce the visibility of the scar. In truth, it was still in the process of healing. “Mm… that isn’t it at all. You are truly curious about me… How sweet.”

In the past, you would have cursed him for implying such a thing. More and more, however, you were discovering how alike the two of you were in certain respects. Devoted to the cause; on opposite sides of this war. “Complimenting you in any manner is a waste. You’re arrogant,” you shot. Ren’s response was to grunt then cup your face in his hands. He smirked down at you when he tilted your head back so that you were forced to meet his gaze. You narrowed your eyes half-heartedly at him. “You have theorized that Snoke will not order you to kill me… He may eventually.” Your mind could not fully escape from the memory of him murdering his own father; though you had not seen it with your own eyes, your imagination provided plenty enough of a visual.

“I have already informed you, tooke: you help to increase my power. Killing you would be a waste.” Your bottom lip quivered at that. How many of your allies had this man killed? He murdered countless on the battlefield—yet your death would be a waste? It was a disgusting compliment you wished could not have been bestowed upon you. Kylo Ren’s mouth found yours. Though you did not respond, you did nothing to push him away either. He kissed you only that single time, and then left your mouth and his in close proximity. “Were you ever in love, tooke?”

Despite the hot spray of water, you felt a sudden chill. There was a sort of desperation in his voice as he posed the question. As though he wished to own you entirely, be the only individual you had ever considered spending your life with—even if another reality would have had to have existed.

“Not like that,” you said, knowing it would do you little good to lie. He had been in your mind before, and he would quite likely visit it many times more. Ren dipped his chin a fraction of an inch. His suspicions had been confirmed. The hands that were cupping your face dropped to his sides.

Kylo Ren turned around, shutting off the shower and then reaching out to grab a towel for himself. After wrapping the cloth around his waist, the Force user seized the spare towel and gave it to you. You clutched the towel against your chest. It took you a few moments longer before you fully snapped back to the present and proceeded to dry yourself.

“I will show you, Tooke, how sentiment is a weakness. It will be your downfall.”

You stared after him as he exited the refresher. You were still drying off at that point. Shaking your head, you could not help but wonder if sentiment would be his downfall. You wrapped the towel about your body, your bare feel pattering on the floor as you walked over to the exit.

“Do you believe that I won’t be able to kill you…because you were my first? Because I think about how it might have been?” You dropped the towel when you arrived at the edge of the bed. Kylo Ren, as naked as you, sat atop the blankets. He was cross-legged when you knelt at his side. Your hands were on his thigh, and you felt his gaze lingering on the two tattoos of his names. His fingers trailed along the tattoo of Ben Solo. “I used to pretend that you could be him… But no one can return to the past. It doesn’t work like that, no matter how much we want to cling onto things. I may be sentimental…but I’m learning. I understand that now.”

“You had to die to learn,” he said, his tone one of mocking.

You tilted your head to the side, cringing as you fought off a wave of pain. “You did as well. It may have been on a more…figurative level…but—“ You were forced to swallow your next words when the man’s hand flew to the back of your head, and he tugged you forward, your lips meeting his. Both of you kept your eyes open, your tongues battling for dominance. Your fingertips dug into the flesh of his thigh. His tongue pressed down on yours, forcing you to submit to him.

The moment you stopped fighting, Ren broke away. “You are afraid, tooke. What will you do once you at last kill me? The general is working alongside you for the time being, however you have to be more on guard with him… Which leads me to wonder: do you plan on using him to strengthen yourself…only to betray him first. Once he is out of the way, you will kill me—or die trying.”

You flinched, ripping yourself away from him entirely. Your heart was pounding in your chest, racing and drumming in your ears. He had read you like an open book without first invading your mind. The two of you knew one another too well. Which meant that your own suspicions were likely true: that a part of this man loved you. You gulped at the thought, the realization.

“Which memory was it?” you asked, your voice so small. Ren’s wide eyes searched your face, as though the man was looking for an out. Snoke’s pupil and you: two puppets becoming further and further entangled with one another. General Hux’s strings, likewise, were adding to that tangled mess. If the three of you were not careful, your movements would be limited and the puppet master would cut your strings—not to free you, but to instead break you, burn you, eliminate you. “Which memory made you want me?”

“How devoted you were to your parents. That you would throw away your life, your freedom…to save them.” You furrowed your brow at the mention of freedom. Kylo Ren chuckled. “Joining the Resistance meant you had to sacrifice so much. The idea of even having a family of your own… You were willing to put that off indefinitely to further the ideals of your mother and father. Your relationship with them was…interesting. The way you disagreed with much, and yet… You were so devoted.”

Ironic, that this was what he told you; given that his devotion continued to endear him to you in a way.

“I am still devoted,” you argued. Kylo Ren nodded, a smile spreading on his face. You refused to back down as you had in the past, did not lower your gaze. You were devoted: to the cause of destroying him. In a twisted way, you were devoted to Kylo Ren. “This is all a mess.”

“You have proven on more than one occasion that you easily adapt,” he drawled. You sighed and started to run your fingers through your hair. “Would you like to eat with me, tooke?”

Deflection yet again, though this time in a different manner. He acted as though he did not long for your company, phrased his requests as inquiries to make it seem as though you were the one who needed this. General Hux was not the only individual making your job more difficult than it should be. You were far too drawn to your captor in the same way he was drawn to you. Respect and longing. Neither of you could allow sentiment to interfere with your jobs. Perhaps, you thought, that was why Kylo Ren committed monstrous deeds. The man who had once been nothing more than a creature; Ren stared at you with those wide eyes, as though he was pleading with you.

“Yes,” you replied.

Ren lifted up his datapad from the bedside table, flicking through a few screens. You guessed that he was putting in an order for food. When he had finished with this task, the Force user went to his closet. He pulled on a pair of loose pants then grabbed out a large shirt and a pair of your panties. You dressed when these two clothing items were tossed over to you. Ren rejoined you on the bed, the man closing his eyes while lying beside you. You watched him.

“Why did you warn me?” His eyes reopened, and the man was staring at you with a questioning look. “All those times, hinting that I would not be free even if I escaped… You dropped hints that you were, in some twisted way, being merciful with how you were treating me. Allowing me those moments to try to kill you. Why?”

“It does not matter.”

Funny, you thought; he said that sentiment did not matter.

You sighed and looked to the door so that you could watch for the food to arrive. All the while your mind continued to sort through events in your life since your capture. How this man purposely antagonized you. Hurt you—tried make you hate him in some ways whist also dissuading you from demonizing him. He wished to be viewed as human though he respected your need to kill him. You would never give up fighting, not really. Yet you sometimes longed for death.

He’s like me… I hate it.

#kylo ren x reader #kylo x reader #three blind tooke #kylo ren smut #kylo ren imagine #elmidolfanfic #precarious harmony

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formalmess · 4 years

Text

For Your Entertainment ~ Chapter Thirteen (Finale)

Summary: The show comes to an end.

Warnings: Gore, Character Death, Murder

“Ahahahaha!”

Dimentio’s maddened laughter echoed into the rumbling air of the late evening, his bright yellow eye examining the man cowering before him. Luigi whimpered in terror, lifting one shaky hand as though to defend himself.

“N-No… you c-can’t...”

Mortified, Luigi scooted back as Dimentio moved to approach him. However, the jester made no motions or indications he’d attack him. He merely surveyed his remaining audience member from afar, the smile on his face twisted upward.

“Ahaha… How scared you must be, like an infant crying out for help in an overflowing bathtub!” Dimentio chuckled, lowering his floating form to stand atop the roof.

His jester garb was stained with blood, dark blotches over hues of sparkling purple and yellow. The bells on his hat jingled as he moved, shifting his gaze.

“No… you c-can’t… n-no… no, no, no… can’t be… you aren’t real…”

“Why, I can't help but say I’m offended, Luigi. I am no mere illusion!” Dimentio smiled, making a dramatic motion with his arms as sparks appeared at his fingertips. “I can assure you, I am very corporeal. But, I compel you to have no fear, man in green. I even brought you a gift, as some consolation.”

Dimentio lifted something small, the tiny object twinkling as it reflected the light of the moon. Revealing the small band of gold squeezed between his fingers, Dimentio threw it to the ground casually in front of Luigi.

Luigi immediately regained himself, hastily scrambling to catch the ring as it clinked and rolled along the shingles of the roof, narrowing falling off. Luigi snatched it up, gasping for air. He held the ring close, clutching a fist protectively around it.

Luigi breathed a short gasp of relief before flinching in fear as he felt a pressure clamp down on his shoulder.

“I suppose your union didn’t last as long as you thought it would, hm? A shame.” Dimentio laughed in Luigi’s ear.

Luigi wept silently, eyes hazy as he ran his fingers over the dried blood on the ring, blue darkened stains coating it.

“P-Peasley...” He choked on his painful cries, hiccuping as his shoulders heaved. “No... no, no, I-I... he... w-why...?”

“I must say,” Dimentio removed his hand from Luigi’s shoulder, circling around the shivering man to face him in the eyes. “The foolish prince lasted much longer than I expected! And you really have to admit, Luigi, it was quite a fun trick!”

“You…” Luigi inhaled, holding back tears. “Y-You took e-everything… f-from me…”

“Well, that was the point, was it not? I’m simply keeping with my promise from the beginning. Don’t you remember my letter?” Dimentio chuckled, leaning forward. “To think, all that time from then to now has led up to this very moment! Our confrontation, alone, without any interference from your so-called 'loved ones'…”

“M-Murderer...” Luigi finally managed to spit out, trying to raise his body in defiance.

“Ah, there’s no need to hurt my fragile feelings!” Dimentio whined childishly before bursting into laughter. “Why, this show was orchestrated purely for your entertainment! I acted the part accordingly, and you should really appreciate your host’s efforts.”

A whimper was all Luigi could get out in response, breaking down into hurried sobs and shrieks.

“Why couldn’t you just let me d-die?! W-What now…? Y-You’re just going to keep tormenting m-me…? Is that what you want?!”

The abrupt scream left Dimentio silenced, for a moment. He paused, curling his fingers.

“...Not exactly. Though that may have been my initial goal, tormenting you and watching you fall apart, it is no longer what I seek. But I cannot lie, that would be quite the amusing thing to watch!”

Dimentio’s floaty tone danced in the wind, practically twisting around Luigi and asphyxiating him as the evening air grew thick.

“But, no. You see, as I sat rotting away in the deepest and darkest pit of the Underwhere, locked up in a damp and cold cell with only my thoughts as accompaniment, I couldn’t help but begin to think and ponder on what had led to my demise...”

Luigi cautiously watched as Dimentio moved. The harlequin clicked his fingers together, almost anxiously.

“My plan should have gone perfectly! I should have been able to easily wipe out all dimensions! But all my efforts were swiftly foiled by some wandering heroes and the power of...” Dimentio cringed, gagging. “Love.”

He brushed himself off, clearing his throat.

“But-! As I started to think, I finally understood my shortcomings, and strangely enough, they all seemed to circle right back to... you…”

Dimentio’s tone snarled and lowered dangerously, a shiver crawling up Luigi’s spine.

”YOU were the reason everything went wrong. You were weak. Weak, afraid, and powerless. You were unable to create a being capable of destroying all worlds, even with mine and the Chaos Heart’s influence.” Dimentio spat, looming over Luigi as every word he spoke dripped with absolute hatred. Luigi continued to cower in fear, not wanting to further enrage the jester standing before him.

“But… I couldn’t stop thinking. You were supposed to have been the perfect vessel as foretold, and yet I still failed. So, tell me, man in green, how could that be?”

Dimentio’s tone softened, the harlequin lowering himself back to the ground as he relaxed and exhaled. Momentarily, he waited, simply letting the breeze past by. His cape gently swayed in the wind.

"Forgive me, plumber, if I’m moving through all this too quickly. I suppose you must be wondering why I saved your life in the first place, correct…?"

Dimentio amusedly lifted a finger to his cheek, grinning.

”Certainly, you must think I want nothing more than to see you as a colorful splatter on the ground, right?" His voice fell to almost a whisper, but still maintained that ever-familiar malicious tone to it. "Wouldn’t it be better to let you live and suffer, than to let you perish and fall to such an unceremonious fate?”

The jester snickered before allowing his tone to become serious.

“I have no intentions of seeing harm come to you, Luigi. Instead, I wanted to offer you something… something you refused ever so long ago.”

“W-What are you talking about?”

“Well, why else would I be here? Why else would I have saved you from such an early demise?” Dimentio laughed, amused. “Why, I’m here to ask if you’ll join me!”

Luigi froze. “...W-What?”

“Ahaha, as I previously questioned, how was it that I failed even when I was supposed to be an invincible and perfect being of destruction? With the ideal vessel and the Chaos Heart in my hands, there was no possible way I could fail… That is, unless, there were complications with the man I supposedly had under my control.”

Luigi stiffened.

“Think about it. Even if I was controlling you with that Floro Sprout, those little seedlings can only last so long. They’re not meant to control people for such extended periods of time, especially under such strenuous conditions. I couldn’t keep you restrained to the Chaos Heart forever.”

Dimentio smiled, floating toward Luigi and getting close to his face, his laughter ringing in his ears.

“So… that’s when I came to the conclusion that I had to make you willingly agree to working with me again, in order to create a perfect world!”

“W-What?”

“All I had to do was escape from the Underwhere and concoct a show meant to make you bend, and break, and ultimately… shatter…!” Dimentio explained maliciously. “Then, the fertile subconscious of your mind would be rather easy to take hold of! Just a bit of coaxing is necessary, hm?”

Tears beginning to streak down Luigi’s face. The terrified brunette could only shake his head in terror. “N-No…”

“Ahahaha! As I told you before, you and I both contain parts of each other within our souls. Being fused together has that effect, wouldn’t you believe?” Dimentio’s grin stretched unnaturally.

“We each hold shadows of the Chaos Heart inside of us, pulsing and thumping away within our own chests. It controls parts of you, as much as you may hate to admit it. Much like how you hate to admit that we are much more alike than you want to believe. We’re apart of one another, Luigi.”

“No… I would n-never help you… y-you m-monster…! I-I’m not like… y-you…!”

“Hmm, hmm. That’s what I expected you to say.” Dimentio’s smile refused to waver. “So, what’s the alternative, man in green? A life of solitude, constantly shrouded in eternal darkness and suffering as the rest of the world grows weary from despair? Perhaps end your game to cease the pain? What good would that do? Everyone is mourning the tragedy left in the wake of the show, and you’ll just let that continue? Think of your poor brother, Luigi. Imagine how upset he would be.”

”You…” Luigi inhaled shakily, voice practically inaudible now. “Y-You j-just want to destroy i-it all…”

“If you were to join me, Luigi, all of the sorrow you’ve ever experienced could disappear. This world could start over. It would be a clean and empty slate for us, to conjure a perfect world without pain or suffering. No one would cry out for answers and beg some deity for salvation in the horror of hardship, like a desperate peasant at the feet of a malevenont ruler. Everyone would be happy, and perfect. Nothing would be out of place, or incorrect.”

“S-Shut up…”

Dimentio grinned. “You may keep up that act for as long as you wish, but I know your true emotions. I’m sure Mr. L had to have come from somewhere, right? That deep resentment you hold in your heart against your brother’s neverending fame, and the world that has wronged you… always left behind and discarded in favor of your much-loved heroic sibling? Wouldn’t you love to be the hero for once? You’d be more than that, even. You’d be a King. A God.”

“N-No… stop…”

“Even now, the Chaos Heart stirs within you, begging to be used to its full potential yet again! Who are you to refuse it’s call?” Dimentio pressed a hand down on Luigi’s chest for only a moment, just to feel the panicked beats within.

“You could BE something, Luigi. You could be so much more than what you are now, a second choice to everyone. A joke.”

Luigi’s head was cloudy, his thoughts jumbling. His heart was pounding hard against his ribcage, threatening to tear apart his chest and rip out of his body. He couldn’t breathe steadily anymore.

“Stop it, stop it, s-stop it…” Luigi shoved Dimentio aside, trying to stand up now, wobbling.

“If not for yourself, then what of those who are suffering? What of those who died?” Dimentio’s smile finally turned to a frown. “After all, it’s your fault they’re dead. You didn’t protect them. You were weak. You failed them.”

“STOP!”

“But, that doesn’t mean you can’t try again. You could restart everything. In our perfect world, we could bring them back!” Dimentio exclaimed excitedly, lifting his hands.

”Y-You’re lying…! YOU’RE LYING!”

“I can’t promise they’d be perfect duplicates, but they’d be enough for you. They’d contain all the traits you loved about them, beings created just to adore and admire you. You’d be their ruler, as you brought them life. They’d forever live in your debt, always be there to listen to you when you needed them… You could bring them all back, Luigi. You could undo this, if you just work with me.”

Luigi went to scream something in protest, but all that emerged from his throat was a strangled shriek. He sputtered, bursting into quivering sobs.

“Please… I-I don’t… no...”

“We can make a perfect world. If we work together once more, we’ll have complete control over these pitiful dimensions. We could end the pain and suffering of this world, and create a perfect one in its place. Anything you desire could be possible.”

Dimentio outstretched his hand.

“So what do you say, man in green?” Dimentio grinned. “Shall we make a perfect world?”

“No… wrong… m-monster…”

“What else do you have to live for? Your brother? Oh, let’s be honest here. He couldn’t care less about you, Luigi. You didn’t even think or care to tell him of all the suffering you’ve had to endure. Your bond isn’t admirable. It’s weak, much like you. Wouldn’t you much rather prefer it to be flawless, without any imperfections?”

Luigi couldn’t think anymore. His chest ached. He felt like throwing up. His head spun, his heart and mind pulsing and pounding painfully.

He didn’t know what was happening. Everything hurt.

“Come now, Luigi.” Dimentio moved closer, floating down to stand in front of him, moving his hand slightly. He smiled, seeming oddly genuine. “Everything will be better if you just agree.”

Luigi shifted, moving his hands from his sides.

He let Peasley’s wedding ring slip out of his fingers, the small item clinking unceremoniously as it rolled away and out of sight.

Luigi no longer cared. This world meant nothing to him.

The next world… his world… It would truly be perfect. He could make everything right again.

Luigi took Dimentio’s hand, to which he was met with a maddened laugh.

“Ahahahaha! Excellent!”

Luigi was limp, allowing the smiling jester to lift him up to his feet.

“You made the right choice, Luigi.” Dimentio explained, chuckling darkly. “Once all worlds fall, they’ll be recreated in our perfect image, and we will have complete control over all. There will no longer be sadness or pain. You will feel truly invincible.”

Dimentio paused, his malicious smile widening as he stared down at his broken puppet, the brunette’s blue eyes dulled and sunken against his pale features.

“Ah,” Dimentio smiled, narrowing his eyes gleefully as he giggled. “But there’s just one little thing we need to take care of first… Come now.”

Dimentio turned, noticing Luigi’s sluggish hesitation. The jester guided him along, lifting a gloved finger and pointing toward the sun creeping over the horizon.

“Perfect timing, in fact.” He lifted a hand, turning his head. “See, I had mentioned the audience participation component, had I not? My show isn’t over just yet, Luigi…”

Dimentio laughed cruelly.

“Why, we’ve still yet to have our finale!”

- - - - - - - - - -

There was a sturdy knock upon the front door, the sound briefly resounding off the walls of the aging home that two famed brothers had lived in for many years.

“Coming!”

Luigi barely reacted to the shout, his eyes lidded as he slowly glanced up. His hands trembled at his side, skin pale and clamping at the fabric of his pants anxiously as his body quivered. The front porch creaked under his weight as he stepped back slightly, his dull eyes lifting as the doorknob clicked.

“Who’s there-...?”

Mario loudly gasped as he joyfully leapt forward, pulling Luigi into his arms.

“Weegie!”

Luigi didn’t react.

“Weeg! It’s-a so good to see you, bro!” Mario examined his brother at arm’s length, smiling. “How are you feeling? Any better?”

Luigi didn’t respond, only nodding. He moved to step past Mario.

“You look a little better. But, if you aren’t, just lemme know.” Mario smiled warmly, noticing Luigi’s movements. He quickly straightened his shoulders, moving aside to let Luigi in. “Any news with Peasley?”

Luigi refused to answer.

“Bro? You okay?”

Luigi still didn’t talk, only nodding.

“If you say so… eheh, y-you’re-a kinda freaking me out, bro.” Mario nervously chuckled when Luigi still gave no reaction. He rubbed the back of his neck, trying to start a conversation. “I-I, uh, I tried to find out what happened to the Princess, but I still haven’t been able to figure much out… Did you?”

Luigi didn’t even face his brother now, only breathing as he looked away, as though he were staring intently at the wall.

”Luigi…?”

Mario slowly reached for his brother, moving to grip his shoulder and steady him.

”Weeg. Hey. Do you need to talk? I’m right here, don’t worry, I-“

As soon as Mario placed his hand on his younger brother’s shoulder, Luigi stiffened and spun around, grabbing onto Mario’s forearm. Mario fearfully stared at his brother, trying to slip out of his tight grip. He’d never seen Luigi acting so strange before.

“B-Bro? Hey, let go of me-”

Luigi’s grip was impossibly tight, digging into skin as he shoved his brother to the side, a light spark of static electricity coursing through Mario’s body as he was flung back into a nearby bookshelf. He hit the wall with a faint crack, the shelf nearly tumbling on top of him. Mario hastily moved out of the way, eyes wide as he breathed in heavy spurts. Feverishly, he glanced up at his younger brother, terrified.

“Luigi?!”

Luigi stood tall, huffing as he tried to gather air into his lungs. He glanced down, dull eyes unmoving as he stared at his elder brother. Mario shivered as he limped forward, trying to stand.

“Weeg, w-what in Grambi’s name has gotten into you?”

“Mario...” was all Luigi could choke out before his words shattered into fractured mumbles. “I... He…”

Mario tried to stand, grabbing onto Luigi’s arms and screaming for some sort of coherent response. “Luigi, what’s wrong with you?!”

Luigi grit his teeth, releasing a growl as he shoved Mario off of him and grabbed his arm, nearly snapping it out of place as he pushed him back down to the ground.

Mario groaned, squeezing his eyes in pain, trying to stand again. His limbs quivered as he tried to lift himself back up. Luigi simply watched his efforts, unmoving.

“Bro, help me… please…” Mario attempted. “L-Luigi…?”

“Ahahahahaha! What a fun reunion!”

Mario glanced up, horrified as all the fears he’d been trying to push away struck his heart at once. He gasped for air, a glare tightening on his face as he screamed, terror soon replaced with rage.

“Y-YOU!”

“Yes, yes. Me.” Dimentio jubilantly spoke, folding his hands as he landed in front of the struggling Mario. “The master of dimensions and pleaser of crowds! The magical and fantastical Diment-”

“You bastard!” Mario screamed as he interrupted Dimentio’s spiel. He heaved, trying to force himself back up to his feet. Traces of static and electricity pulsed at his limbs, forcing his efforts to be quite minimal. He caught Luigi’s gaze, his brother now standing behind Dimentio. “What have you done to him?!”

“Why, I’m just putting on a harmless show, hero.” Dimentio lazily moved his hand, smiling. “What’s so wrong in that? I did nothing to harm your brother.”

Dimentio laughed as Mario finally forced himself up, the hero screaming as he moved to punch Dimentio square in the face. But before the blow could land, Dimentio snapped his fingers and trapped him in a golden box, effortlessly stopping any of Mario’s efforts.

”Suppose you’re just as weak as your brother, then, hm?” Dimentio chuckled as he floated backward, circling around Luigi. “Guess it runs in the family!”

“GET AWAY FROM MY BROTHER!” Mario shrieked, pounding against the glass of the yellow box. “LEAVE HIM ALONE!”

“Ah, Mario, but the dear man in green gave himself up willingly to work at my side. He wants to end all worlds with me.”

”YOU’RE LYING!” Mario shoved his weight against the box repeatedly, crying out. “LUIGI!”

“Isn’t it sad? He didn’t tell you anything. Nothing, absolutely nothing, about how much pain he was in. He was suffering so much, and you didn’t so much as bat an eye. He tried to end his own life, and you had no idea. Some brotherly bond you had, hm~?” Dimentio cackled madly, raising his fingers, poised to snap at any moment. “I’m sure you’d much prefer it if I just put you out of your misery.”

Mario paused, shrinking back momentarily. He glanced up, staring at Luigi. A stab of guilt drove through his chest, tears slipping down his cheeks as his expression relaxed.

”Luigi…” He inaudibly mouthed before raising his voice, tears forming in his eyes. His voice trailed off. He’d never felt so ashamed. “I’m s-sorry... I’m so sorry… I should’ve known better…!”

Luigi turned away.

”Bro, you have to snap out of it! He isn’t going to help, he just wants to hurt you! He’s going to kill everyone!”

“That IS the point, Mario. Luigi is well aware. Don’t act like your brother’s so dense, dear hero in red.” Dimentio chided, lifting a finger. “We’re going to construct a perfect world. Just like I originally wanted. It’s ALL I’ve ever wanted.”

His laughter rang out through the Mario brothers’ old home like poison, the malice of months spent suffering and imprisoned seeping through his words and into the floorboards and creaking walls, binding himself into their abode.

“Besides, Mario… I’m afraid there’s no chance I’ll be granting you mercy today. Why…”

Dimentio smiled.

“YOU are our finale, after all!”

He laughed as he finally snapped his fingers, an ear-shatteringly loud BANG ringing out through the small house. Luigi shut his eyes instinctively to shield himself from any debris, lifting his arms to hide his face. He shivered slightly as he slowly realized Mario was still lying there, just on the ground, his chest rising and falling.

Dimentio hadn’t meant to end his game. His explosion had only been just powerful enough to briefly knock Mario unconscious.

It was just enough time to prepare for the final act.

- - - - - - - - - -

Mario awoke groggily, eyes flickering as he came to. He was still lying on the ground, limbs heavy as he tried to roll over or stand, finding himself unable to.

“Had a nice rest, did you, hero?”

Mario trembled in anger as he glanced up, meeting eyes with the mismatched gaze of the malevolent jester whom he’d had brief nightmares about during his forced slumber. He seemed preoccupied.

“It’s always nice when the participant has plenty of energy for the show.” Dimentio explained gently as he started working on something just outside of Mario’s view. “Wouldn’t want it to be boring, now, would we?”

A thick scent enveloped the air surrounding the two, the foul-smelling odor forcing Mario to scrunch up his nose.

“Where… is… m-my brother?” Mario coughed up thin strands of saliva mixed with blood, trying to force himself into standing. All attempts left him exhausted, lying on the ground and sputtering for air.

“Elsewhere. He’s preparing for his cue.” Dimentio smiled. “In the meantime, I wanted to show you something while we were waiting.”

Mario’s hazy vision left him unable to comprehend where Dimentio was moving, his gaze naturally falling toward the ground as he attempted studying his breathing.

A blur of gold, with accents of sapphire and crimson, was placed in front of his eyes. His mind stirred.

“I wanted to keep it as a personal trophy. A prize, if you will. But… I think you’d appreciate it more.”

Mario’s chest tightened, tears slipping down his cheeks.

It was the Princess’s crown.

“P-Princess…” Mario whispered in disbelief, almost as though this was all some cruel trick. “No… no, she… My Princess…”

“She lasted long. I’ll grant you that knowledge. Ah, if we had time, I’d be willing to show you her whole demise. It was quite a fun part of our show…” Dimentio grinned, noticing Mario’s complexion, paling horrifically as he came to terms with what had happened and who he had failed. “And I see you’re breaking apart too, like a vase knocked over by a careless toddler on a summer day.”

“Peach…”

Dimentio turned with a hum and smile, his yellow eye flickering as he tilted his head. Bells jingled, the jester standing tall to attention.

“I believe it’s time, then. We mustn’t waste a single second more.” Dimentio faced Mario. “Oh, do forgive me, dear red hero. I’m just so eager to finally have my perfect world~!”

Dimentio lifted his hands, sparks pulsing at his fingertips.

“It’s time for our grand finale! Luigi...! That’s your cue!”

Mario glanced up, mortified as he watched his younger brother approach. Luigi started forward mechanically, the light sound of liquid trickling following his steps. Mario’s eyes widened, quickly realizing Luigi was pouring a trail of gasoline at his side.

“L-Luigi… n-no…” Mario whispered in protest. All he could think about was how he had failed his brother. He didn’t protect him from Dimentio and all the tricks he had up his sleeve. He didn’t protect the Princess. He didn’t protect anyone.

He wasn’t a hero at all.

“All it’ll take is a single spark, Luigi.”

Dimentio’s taunting voice quickly brought Mario out of his thoughts.

Luigi fiddled with his hands, breathing heavily. Every part of him was screaming, begging him to come to his senses and stop this madness. They told him Dimentio was lying, and he would never let him recreate the world he wanted. They warned him to just grab his brother and run far away.

But, the piece of the Chaos Heart that stirred deep within his chest had the loudest voice of all.

Finish the show.

“Every show must come to an end, Luigi.” Dimentio reminded. “Prove yourself.”

Mario’s cries and pleads went unheard as Luigi’s mind numbed, thoughts growing unbearable. He crouched down, leaning over to the growing pile of gasoline he’d created at his feet.

A single electrical spark appeared at his fingertips, briefly alighting his palms and trembling fingers. The tiny sparks hit the gasoline lining the ground, steadily growing quick flames, each sprouting from the spot he’d touched.

“Our grand finale is finally set into motion!” Dimentio laughed, eyes narrowing excitedly as he clapped his hands together. “What a magnificent light show!”

Luigi felt lost, feeling the need to remain, to sit by his brother’s side and perish in the crackling flames beside him. The fire moved fast, consuming and engulfing each of the wooden boards of the house. Impossibly fast.

Mario screamed in terror, trying to get up and run away, but to no avail. He glanced up at his brother, sobbing his name for some hope, some chance he might still be there.

Luigi’s heart stiffened. He moved, reaching out to his brother.

But, Dimentio lunged forward and grabbed Luigi by the wrist. He snapped his fingers and the two teleported outside of the house to safety, watching as the old house was quickly engulfed by the growing flames.

Dimentio dropped Luigi to the ground carelessly, chuckling.

“Our show started off so small! And now, we end with such a huge finale! What a performance!”

They watched from a safe distance.

Dimentio cackled in delight as smoke began to pour from the windows and cracks in the wood along the sides of the wooden house, once occupied by the famous Mario brothers. They’d resided in that house for years, having lived out many of their years together, promising each other plentiful and exciting futures.

It was all squandered as the house burst into flame. The flames danced excitedly, growing larger in accompaniment to the sounds of screaming from within.

Luigi felt the need to cry, but no tears emerged from his eyes. He exhaled shakily, staring at Dimentio, who was laughing madly as the light of the fiery blaze reflected upon the shiny porcelain of his mask.

Sparks burst and exploded along the bright destruction presented before him, wooden boards creaking and cracking.

And through all the crackling fire and bustling embers, Luigi could hear the horrified and pained screams of his burning brother.

Luigi whimpered and hid his gaze, burying his eyes in his dirtied gloves, falling to his knees on the dirt ground.

“What a lovely display. A show-stopper, indeed...” Dimentio mused, delighted with the horrific display as he surveyed the damage.

The roaring and rumbling flames claimed the aging house, Mario’s screams having now ceased.

Luigi felt his chest tighten.

So many were lost now. His friends. His love. His family…!

It was all his fault. It was all his fault. It was all his fault.

Two Toad siblings who had a bond unbreakable compared to his own. An old friend whom had only wanted to see him happy. A friend who had once been his enemy. A young royal who had only wanted to help. His closest friends who had been with him for years, promising his safety.

His mentor. His husband. His brother.

He’d pushed all of them away.

It was his fault they were gone.

All gone.

His mind and heart pulsed. He nearly toppled over, heaving for air. He couldn’t so much as see anymore.

He passed out.

- - - - - - - - - -

“Luigi...?”

He shifted, awakening to a bright light. Everything was warm. Comfortingly warm. It felt safe.

“Luigi, wake up now...”

Luigi’s eyes slowly opened, a brilliant whiteness in front of his gaze. He trembled and inhaled, trying to see past his misty vision.

“What…?”

“The show isn’t quite over yet… Your role isn’t finished.”

Luigi bolted upright, Dimentio’s masked smile greeting him as he finally adjusted to the brightness around him. He didn’t quite know where he was, but it felt familiar.

Dimentio lifted Luigi to his feet. He wobbled slightly as he stood in the blankness surrounding him.

“Now, now, Luigi... It’s time for our next show. This performance isn’t stopping so soon. It’s a show that will continue on throughout centuries. And we’ll be the ones onstage, orchestrating it all…”

Dimentio lifted Luigi’s chin, pulling him forward to walk through the nothingness.

“Come now, man in green. It’s time to take our bow. And then, we can work on finally creating our perfect world.”

Dimentio turned around as Luigi finally looked up.

And Luigi was smiling, his grin matching Dimentio’s own twisted expression.

Everything would be okay. Luigi knew he would make things perfect, for everyone. Everything would be okay.

And though sorrow and tragedy followed their footsteps as they traversed through nothing, they maintained one thought as they continued onward.

“The show must go on.”

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

A/N: And thus, the curtain of our story comes to a close... For all those who read along with this little tale, I do so hope you enjoyed, and I hope you had as much fun reading it as I did writing it. Thanks for sticking around!

#super paper mario #super mario bros #luigi #dimentio #mario #peasley #my fics #writing #tw gore #tw murder #for your entertainment #ill prolly be posting more mario related fics here #from here on out #if anyone is interested #:p #but seriously thanks for reading if ya made it this far #yall the real mvps #tysm for supporting the luigi suffering story

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starlling-writes · 4 years

Text

Turn Around

- Neutral Human x Neutral Monster (not really romantic, but some suggestions of it) - Dark-ish fantasy - 3,700 words - Teen [PG-13] - Contains: swearing; mild instances of violence; mild suggestive themes; ambiguous ending – potential suicidal interpretation; trypophobia mention (when you read the line, “Tonight we were watching a random monster B-movie,” skip to the next paragraph to avoid the description) - Inspired by this prompt [pictured below] from @write-it-motherfuckers - Writing Masterlist

My first memory of the rule was when I was a toddler and my parents were teaching me how to turn around. If I turned to the side, I just had to keep my focus straight ahead. If I turned more than ninety degrees, then I had to close my eyes, turn, and only when I was facing the direction I needed to go could I open my eyes again.

Back then it didn’t seem an odd thing to specifically teach a child. I was an infant—incapable of the cognition to ask such questions. But they taught me that I couldn’t carelessly turn around. They taught me it was rude and wrong to just glance over my shoulder.

Just before my fifth birthday, my parents were dead strict about one rule: I must never look behind me. It’s a matter of life and death, they’d lecture but never explained any more than that. I could still look in mirrors and use cameras and such. It was only direct observation behind myself that I couldn’t do.

They tested me, calling to me from behind on the days leading up to my birthday. But by then their teachings were so ingrained in me. It instantly became clear how serious I needed to treat this after I turned five. It also radically changed the kind of childhood I led.

My next day back at kindergarten was a disaster. Half the other kids started screaming, crying when I entered the classroom. No one would come close to me. The teacher did her best to calm them but it’s hard to sooth children when you yourself are so obviously unnerved and weary.

My parents started homeschooling me then.

It wasn’t all bad. For first grade, they set up a special stream of the classroom for me. It was almost like I was there. I could see everyone; they could see me on a screen. And no one screamed. They asked if I was a robot—I was just a face on screen and a voice over speakers—but they weren’t afraid of me. For classes like gym and art, special teachers came to our home.

It was lonely, never having anyone to play with now. But I favored the solitude to their cries.

To my parents’ chagrins, I became numb to everyone’s reactions rather quickly. It was only ever an issue around younger kids anyways. Most older children and adults could control themselves and keep their reactions to looks and quick excuses to leave.

As a teenager, I got cocky about whatever it was that everyone saw behind me. I pushed the boundaries of everything. I stayed out late and walked home alone. I snuck into concerts I was too young for. Every situation that I should have feared being in, I sought out. No one ever messed with me; and that gave me a small invincibility complex.

When I was seventeen, I finally had my first experience in love. I was at some horror punk show and this guy kept looking over at me all night and smiling. It was weird, but it was a nice change from the looks of fright and aversion. When the bands were switching out he approached me and started flirting with me. I was so taken aback that someone was showing interest in me that I didn’t give any thought about if I was actually attracted to him—I wasn’t in a position to be picky. We talked and danced all night. After the event closed, we loitered in the parking lot. He even kissed me.

It was the best night of my life. But then he asked me something that was… just wrong.

“So uh, did you sell your soul to that thing or something?”

“What?”

“That freaky thing behind you,” he gestured around me. “Have you ever killed someone with it?”

It became quickly clear that he wasn’t interested in me at all. I thought I had noticed his gaze drifting behind me throughout the night; but I had written it off as him enjoying the event. The questions became more invasive as I fumbled around noncommittal answers.

Then he got aggressive. Being even less accustomed to physical contact with people, I flipped out. I screamed and shut my eyes and flailed. I fell on the ground and scurried until I felt grass. I got up and looked back at where the asshole and I had been talking. He was lying prone on the ground. Silent. Unmoving. Half of me wanted to see what happened to him. The other half wanted to run home and forget I ever met him.

The latter side won.

Back home, I crept into the bathroom. I stripped to my underwear and braced my hands on either side of the sink, doing my best to calm down. It was stupid to think someone had genuine interest in me. I glared at my reflection. Like always, I saw nothing behind me. “The fucking hell are you?” I mumbled aloud.

If you want to know so badly, look and see.

I jumped back and almost, almost, looked over my shoulder at the sudden new voice. It could speak? It was sentient? My heart was thundering like a herd of wild mustangs. All this time I could talk to it. Why had my parents never mentioned that? It took me a minute to find my ability to speak. “What… what’s your name?”

It chuckled impishly, the sound moving from my right side to my left. So many years, and now you ask?

“I didn’t know I could talk to you,” I defended. “You’ve been with me most my life; you should know I haven’t been told anything about you even when I asked.”

It simply hummed affirmatively.

“What will happen if I look at you?” I wasn’t expecting to get an answer but I had to ask.

Turn and find out.

As I figured. Now that my shock subsided, I turned on the faucet. “Why are you following me?” I splashed water on my face as I waited for its answer, but I didn’t receive one. I patted my face dry then went to my room. “Am I cursed?”

—“Did my parents make a deal with a demon or something?”

—“Do you hate having to follow me?”

—“How old are you?

Each question I came up with was met with silence. It was a jerk move considering the thing gave my crap not even five minutes ago for never talking to it before. I grabbed a pillow off my bed and chucked it behind me. It let out a single snort. I sighed in defeat and curled up on the window seat, staring out at the view I’d grown to hate over the years.

“Are you lonely too?”

Just when I thought I’d still get only silence, it responded. At times.

It was a bit weird, but I was happy to hear its answer. Then an urge came over me. It had been so long since I had a connection with someone—I was not counting tonight with that creep. Maybe, just maybe, we could at least be friendlier. “What would you like me to call you?”

Why are you persistent to learn about me?

“Why not?” I shrugged. “We’re stuck together. You’ve had no choice in learning things about me. And I doubt you get an opportunity to chat with other… whatever you are.”

It—they? I didn’t know how to address it/them—was silent again. What did it say that even the monster that followed me didn’t want to be my friend? I shut my eyes and started playing music in my mind.

Zastrozuth.

From that night on, Zastrozuth and I grew closer. They weren’t the most talkative, but neither was I. Now their presence held a level of comfort. And when I moved away from home, I didn’t feel lonely.

Zas was great at helping me hang things straight. They also helped me when I was too indecisive to make a choice on dinner, or on my outfit. While we only had little moments like this, they were the deepest connections I had ever had. I cherished them.

Perhaps a bit too much, as the years went on.

It was a rainy, autumn evening. I was home watching movies with Zas. Tonight we were watching a random monster B-movie. The FX makeup was pretty on point, which made me cringe and gag a bit when a trypophobic’s nightmare showed up oozing slime out of its many holes. I didn’t have that phobia but this thing—yeesh! Anyone would be creeped out by it.

While imagining what touching that monster would feel like, my thoughts ended up drifting to Zas. What did they feel like? Were they furry, or scaly, or slimy? I wasn’t even sure if they had a physical form. Presumably, they were a phantom following behind me; but that doesn’t mean they were always like that.

“Can I touch you?” I absently asked before I could stop myself. The moment the words left my lips I cringed and clarified, “Like, if I reached behind me right now—would I feel you?”

No.

“Oh.” I should have guessed. But like with all the questions I had about Zas, I had to ask—my curiosity about them was unrelenting.

Then they asked, Do you want to touch me?

Heat rose to my cheeks. The way they said it just sent my mind straying towards red lights. “I didn’t mean it like that,” I defended.

Like what?

Nope. I was not playing that game. They might not be able to control the way their voice made the words sound, but they’d been in this world long enough to understand the implications of their wording. Maybe it was my lack of human interaction that made it feel… intimate. Regardless, the idea joined the many curiosities I had about Zas.

This was not how movie night was supposed to go!

“Never mind,” I said, no longer wanting to be in this conversation. “It was just a random question that came to mind.” I shouldn’t have asked. I adjusted and snuggled deeper into the couch cushion. This movie was failing to grab my attention anymore.

I can ask.

“Huh?”

While you sleep. I can ask if there is a way.

“Oh. Um… Sure, I guess. You don’t have to, but it’s up to you,” I floundered. So many more questions flooded my mind. But I kept them all to myself. As much as I wanted to learn more, I would never know much about Zastrozuth. It was for the best. Probably.

When I woke up the next morning, I already wanted it to be over. “Morning, Zas,” I yawned.

You did not rest well.

“Nope.” My straying thoughts had kept me awake for hours. Then I had unnerving dreams that I couldn’t remember the details of now but left a haunting impression. It didn’t help when I remembered what we had talked about last night. I stretched then curled back up on my side, tugging my blanket up to my chin. I didn’t expect to feel this anxious. “Any news?”

It could be done. But it would require manifesting on your plane.

“And what would that mean exactly?”

I’m unaware if I’ll be able to demanifest afterwards. If I can’t, you’d see me in mirrors and cameras.

“Would… would that trigger the thing? If I saw you that way—would that still count?”

I am unaware.

“I see.” So either things could stay how they are, or I could give up mirrors and selfies so I could touch them. Then I realized something else. “Would it be difficult for you to follow me if you manifested?”

There was a pause before they answered.

It would be an adjustment.

“So yes,” I sighed. I sat up and scratched my head, frustrated by this decision. I kicked off my blanket and started to get ready for the day.

This would be a major decision.

Zas didn’t bring it up again, but it weighed heavy on my mind the rest of the morning. I tried to push it from my thoughts but it would creep back up. “What do you think?” I suddenly asked them.

Think of what?

“About the manifesting thing. Is it even something you’d want?”

They took their time thinking it over then finally exhaled in a frustrated, overthinking manner. I am not sure.

“Well if it’s something that you don’t want, I’m not going to ask it of you. If you ever decided that you’d like to, then we can talk about it more then. Sound good?”

Their gentle breath on my neck made me shiver. It wasn’t often they were close enough for me to feel their presence. You’re an odd human.

“You’re only noticing this now?” I snickered. Their answering growl made me laugh more.

A few years later, I found a cheap, little house in the middle of nowhere to rent. It was ironic that I sought such solitude now when I had despised it as a kid. But this solitude was different. This house was mine. In this space, I had no worries. Unlike with my previous apartments, I didn’t have neighbors—no one around to side-eye me. This solitude was freedom.

On a gorgeous, sunny day, I decided to venture down to the lake that was a short bike ride away. A couple of the locals had houses along its perimeter but they were spaced out enough that I didn’t feel worried about anyone seeing and bothering Zas and me. The water was still on the nippy side but I swam anyway—or rather, awkwardly doggy-paddled since I never had lessons.

Swimming didn’t last long. Between my lack of athleticism and the chilly waters, I soon retreated to my towel on the shore. “Hey, Zas?” I asked while sunning myself.

Yes?

“Do you ever think about that one question I had asked?”

Be specific or I will eat you.

I snorted, unfazed by their dark humor. “About touching,” I said. The creepy feel of seaweed brushing my legs when I was swimming brought my train of thought back to that question. I wiggled my toes in the sand while I waited for their answer.

A time or two.

“And your thoughts?” I cautiously asked.

This wasn’t the first time I had thought about it since the night I asked. I wouldn’t admit it, but it was partially why I moved here; why I didn’t have stainless steel appliances; why the bathroom mirror was the only one in the house. It was all in case Zas manifested and reflections of them now triggered the spell between us.

Do… you still desire it?

I was not ready for that, so I deflected. “That’s not an answer.”

They gruffly sighed. The longer they didn’t answer, the more I wished I hadn’t brought it up. Then…

Say the word.

A shiver pulsed through me. Was this really happening? This precipice we now danced on made my heart thunder in my ears. I took a deep breath to try to calm it. “Do it.”

The gentle breeze that had been dancing around us swelled into a dizzying gust. For a moment, it felt like I couldn’t breathe. I shut my eyes and waited.

The wind stilled. I could feel Zas’s shadow over me, blocking the sun from my back. Their breath ruffled my hair. I reached my hand slightly behind me, my fingers splayed.

They took my hand.

It was foolish how giddy it made me feel. Then again, I was touched starved for nearly all my life. Whatever this was probably wouldn’t be healthy under normal circumstances. But my life, and our relationship, was far from it.

“How does it feel?”

Strange. But… not in a bad way.

That night, I slept curled in their large arms.

Exactly eight days later, the first incident occurred. Zas and I were walking to get the mail. I didn’t notice anything, but when they told me to stop, I did.

Close your eyes. Don’t open them until I tell you.

Again, I obeyed without question. My anxiety rocketed as I strained to hear something, anything, that could give me a clue to what was going on. Nothing. There was nothing for so long. “Zas?” I whispered.

No answer.

Panic began settling in. Did they leave me? What was happening? What if something happened to them? My chest tightened as endless questions rushed through my mind. I feared the worse. It was tempting to open my eyes, but I kept them such as Zas ordered. I had to have faith in them. I had to…

Heavy panting rumbled behind me, making me jump. For all my desire to hear anything again, I wasn’t thrilled with getting my wish now. Something thick squelched on the ground—drool? Blood? Something more unsettling? I trembled with each vicious breath I heard.

You may look now.

The breath I was holding shuddered out of me. “What happened? You sound hurt.”

It was a moment before they answered, as if they needed to muster the strength to talk. Some creatures… reavers, appeared. I have dealt with them.

“You’ve never mentioned them before.”

They’ve never been around before.

“Why now?—oh…” The moment I asked, the obvious answer popped in my head. Zas was corporeal. I cleared my throat. “So this is one of the consequences, huh?”

There might be another reason. However, that seems the likeliest case.

“And let me guess—there’s no way to stop them from coming?”

No.

“Fuckin’ great,” I muttered, then continued on with the original reason we were out here. I hated the thought of Zas needing to fight off creatures for me. It trudged up all the guilt I’ve felt about asking them to manifest. What else was going to happen now?

In the coming days and nights, more creatures were drawn to us. Zas took care of them all. Horrors plagued my dreams and I’d scream myself awake. Zas held and calmed me until I could sleep again. I started jumping at little sounds. Silence was equally unnerving. Zas did what they could to settle my nerves, but the bit of peace never lasted.

After a few months of this, I had had enough. Then I came up with a plan.

I called up my parents. It had been a bit since we last caught up. I told them all about the house and how I loved being out here. I left out Zas becoming physical, and the other creatures now drawn to us. They would only worried.

“So um—I called because I need you guys to come watch my house for a bit. Can you do that?”

“I have to request off,” mom slowly started, notably concerned. “But sure. We can do that honey.”

“Thanks. Just let me know when you can make it and I can get everything ready.”

Mom dragged the conversation out long enough that, after I hung up, I groaned and face-planted onto the couch.

If talking to your parents is so exhausting, why invite them here?

“Like I said on the phone—I need them to watch the house.”

And why is that?

“You’ll see,” I chirped. It was a surprise. One that even I wasn’t sure how would play out.

I waited outside on the day my parents were to arrive. The late-summer sun blazed overhead, though the winds of a coming storm blew softly through the trees. Hopefully my parents would get here before it hit.

I drummed my fingers on the hood of my car. It had been years since my parents last saw me—saw Zas. How would they react now? Hopefully, they wouldn’t notice they’re physical. That was why I waited by my car, so Zas could already be inside, prepared to go.

When they arrived, Mom talked a bunch while Dad remained mostly silent. He kept glancing at Zas—could he tell? Mom, on the other hand, seemed to avoid looking at Zas and me all together. At least neither of them tried to fake that things were better than they were.

To everyone’s relief, I didn’t draw the moment out. I said my goodbyes, got in my car and drove off towards town.

But, I never made it to town.

Halfway down to the main road, I pulled over next to a field. Without a word to Zas, I got out and walked into the tall grass. Closing my eyes, I turned my face up to the sky and spun around in a couple circles. I soaked in the moment. “I’m ready,” I murmured.

For?

I opened my eyes and gazed at the pure blue sky striated by thin, wispy clouds. I couldn’t have asked for a more poetically beautiful day. I reached back until my hand found theirs, our fingers naturally entwining. “To look.”

There was a long pause. Are you sure?

“Yes.” I explained all my thoughts from over the past few months; about the letter I left my parents telling them about my decision. That was the real reason I asked them to come. Since I didn’t know what was going to happen, I left my keys there and the details for my personal accounts just in case. It had been a challenge to arrange everything without tipping Zas off to my plan. I didn’t think they would try to dissuade me, per se. But this… this wasn’t something I had wanted any input on.

“So since I’m going to look at you, can you tell me what’s going to happen?”

They chuckled. No.

I shrugged. “Worth a shot.” I took a long, steadying breath. “If this is my last moment, I just wanna say that I’ve enjoyed our time together.”

Me too, little one.

I felt their touch brush my arm. The butterflies I had settled. The things I feared all my life no longer worried me. After everything we had been through, I trusted them.

I turned around and looked at Zastrozuth.

— — —

Masterlist

#prompt response #writeblr #shadow monster #monster love #demon #shadow demon #monster x human #short story #haunted #personal demons

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recessgames · 4 years

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Abomination: The Heir of Frankenstein is a competitive game of strategic monster building for 2-4 players, inspired by Mary Shelley's classic novel of gothic horror. In the game, the creature demands your help to accomplish what his own creator would not: to bring to life an abomination like itself, a companion to end its miserable solitude. Through worker placement and careful management of decomposing resources, you'll gather materials from the cemeteries and morgues around the city, conduct valuable research at the Academy of Science, hire less-than-reputable associates, and toil away in your lab — all in an effort to assemble a new form of life and infuse it with a "spark of being". Do well, and the creature may reward you during one of its surprise visits; do poorly, and you may come to regret not putting forth more effort. Narrative elements come into play throughout the game, guided by your decisions, leading to potentially unsavory outcomes.

https://shop.recess.games/abomination-the-heir-of-frankenstein.html

#frankenstein day #board game #boardgames #playmoregames #board games #play more game #play more games #frankenstiensmonster #frankenstein monster #Mary Shelly #recess games

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markstify · 4 years

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Nico Di Angelo is the best character from the Riordanverse and this is why:

I originally wrote this as an answer in Everything Percy Jackson space.

Nico di Angelo.

Yup. His character development was outstanding in all the novels. Even though he wasn’t one of the 7 heroes, he had a quite a few chapters made to dwell on his past, and his life in general.

He started as a immature, young kid, who liked a game and didn’t think much about life. He was from the 1900s, and added on top of that, didn’t remember his past.

Imagine the shock you receive when your teacher turns into a monster and you get saved by a dude in a sword. It was his favorite game in real life. He instantly had a crush on Percy.

Soon after arriving at Camp Half Blood, his sister goes away from him, his only family, to the Hunters of Artemis.

Bianca then goes on a quest, where as the least he could do was ask Percy to take care of her. He trusted Percy, and Percy failed him.

His anger can be seen on Percy’s arrival towards the end of the Titan’s curse. But he didn’t take it out on Percy because he loved him. He went away to the shadows, a child of Hades. He began realizing his power, and that he would never fit in. He would never be accepted.

He went to the shadows, embraced spirits, talked to the ghost of Minos. He went into the Labyrinth, to return his sister back from the dead, only to find Percy back.

He discovered most of his powers in solitude, away from the others. On finding about that his sister didn’t want to come back, he forgave Percy.

But everything wasn’t done. Oh no.

He wanted to know more about his family. His past. Understandable. But his father, Hades, tricked him into bringing Percy into the underworld.

Sure, Percy got the Achilles stuff, but he got captured by Hades, thanks to Nico. Nico lost Percy’s trust.

During the Battle of Manhattan, all the gods were away, fighting with Typhon, when Olympus was unguarded. This is when Nico brings his first major change into the story. He convinces his father to bring his army to protect Olympus from Kronos’s army.

In doing so, he breaks the curse on the Oracle, and Hades gets recognized for his help. Also, children of Hades started getting accepted.

His heart breaks to see Percy and Annabeth together. But he couldn’t do anything and kept his anguish to himself.

Then Nico goes away again, and this time, his father brings him to the Roman camp, where he brings his sister Hazel back from the dead and meets Percy who had been stripped of his memory.

After Percy’s quest, Nico went away to the Doors of Death, only to be captured by Gaia’s forces. He went to Tartarus and was just inches away from going Insane. Also, he went to Tartarus alone, whereas Percy and Annabeth had each other. Keep in mind that since the underworld was Nico’s realm, the mist didn’t work on him and he saw the true horror of Tartarus.

I REPEAT HE WILLINGLY WENT INTO TARTARUS.

He was taken prisoner by the Twin giants, kept in a jar where he survived off Persephone’s pomegranates. He was just about to die when he was saved by the Argo II’s crew.

He was extremely weak, and took awhile to recover. In this time, he was utterly helpless.

He recovered, only to see Percy and Annabeth go to Tartarus. While going down, Percy made Nico promise he’ll bring the rest of the crew to the Doors of Death from the mortal side.

Also, he kept contact with Bob, the Titan, the main guy behind Percy’s and Annabeth’s survival in Tartarus.

The promise had been made, and Nico had to stay with the crew, where he was seen as the outsider, and was subjected to Leo’s cruel jokes (yeah). An example -

The only person he could talk to was Hazel. Despite Jason’s innumerable efforts, Nico wouldn’t share much about him, and kept out of conversations unless it was absolutely necessary. He was kinda the mystery guy, it came with being a child of Hades and stuff.

Then came his encounter with Cupid. His deepest secret came out in front of Jason, without his consent. He was forced to come out when he obviously wasn’t comfortable with it himself and in front of someone he didn’t know that well

He led the crew into the Necromancer, where they fought armies.

After all of this shit, he went half of the world, SHADOW TRAVELLING (which drained his energy so much that he passed out for 2 - 3 days every time) with Reyna, Coach and a whole 40 foot tall statue of Athena.

He shadow traveled so much that he literally started going into the shadows. It drained out his energy, even Reyna couldn’t help him sometimes. He comforted her in times of distress.

He helps those demigods who barely noticed him to the point that he almost kills himself.

After all that shit, he finally came out as gay, and we finally got a LGBT person in our story. He found Will Solace.

This not the end, no. He helped Apollo, even though the gods had been nothing but mean to him.

He is an inspiration and even though no one accepts you, even though things work out, it’s YOUR choices that make you a hero.

and Nico was a hero.

"Not a word about the shirt. Not one word."

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beholdthishotmess · 5 years

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Reflections on 131 Flesh

I want to start off by admitting that this episode is a clear 180 from what I was expecting. The last few have been divebombing into what felt like a spiral (badum CHING) of despair, and while there’s a bit of awkward painful bits at the beginning here, I actually found this to be one of the most POSITIVE in a lot of ways. And a damn good sign, in the larger episode run, for what is to come.

Starting, of course, with Melanie.

There were three major things that I got from this discussion with Melanie. The first is a sinking suspicion that Melanie could very well live where Tim, the other character who was clearly motivated by rage and anger, ended up falling. And that isn’t a slight on Tim but as much as I love him, Tim died still bitter and still angry. Tim died alone, in every single possible sense, and as we recall the importance of anchors, as we look back on Georgie’s words, and as we think on Literally The Most Important Horror Trope There is...

Never Split Up.

Melanie here has chosen not to go it alone. Even when it’s hard, even when she’s livid at both of the other people here, even when her alternatives to solitude basically include at least two monsters... Melanie has decided to move forward. Melanie approached Jon, after Jon gave her the necessary space, and while she said her piece to him and vented her spleen over what he’d done and how she felt about it, she nevertheless moved to help him and offered him the first bit of actual genuine hospitality and concern that we’ve seen to Jon all season since Georgie walked out.

The second thing I got was that this is when we’re really going to delve into the monsters a little, what it means to be a monster, how ‘human’ they are and how monstrous and where the truly terrifying bits are. Melanie wanted the bullet, Melanie wanted her anger and the power and strength it gave her (supernaturally and normally) but she also became very well aware only after it was removed that the anger and the ‘strength’ it gave her was a double edged sword. The anger ‘powered’ her to make Ghost Hunt UK but it was also anger that destroyed it in the end. Her anger was the perfect tool until it ‘slipped out and hurt someone’ and now she’s ACKNOWLEDGING it. She acknowledges what the bullet gave her but she ALSO acknowledges that it was a crutch. She was USING it just as it was using her. And while it was helpful and it felt good, that doesn’t make it a good thing. (I’m reminded just a little of one of my favorite TV shows, Crazy Ex-Girlfrlend, and how they used the phrase ‘like glitter exploding inside of me’ as a sign that a character had an unhealthy obsession).

And, of course, the third is that Melanie is kind of done with the blame game. Last season, any chance Melanie got, she threw her presence into Jon’s face, and just at the beginning of this season, she was more than willing to use Tim’s death as a weapon against him. But whenever Jon tried to start ‘fixing’ things or seeing a bright side, she shut him up. She didn’t want his comfort but she also wasn’t letting him take any blame or guilt from it. When he tried to assume THAT, she was just as quick to snap back at him. YES, Jon made a choice and YES, it had consequences. But the most important thing came back around to where it left them then and what they were going to do and the fact that right down to it, all they have is each other.

I absolutely loved her and Helen as well. And just, Helen in general. Which brings me to my next point.

Namely that Helen refuses the dichotomy of human vs. monster that’s been terrifying Jon for the last season or so. She is Helen and she is different from the Helen who she was, but she’s also still Helen. She’s making her choice to help the Archives, making choices about what she wants to do and who she wants to be and clearly who to make friends with. She won’t allow Jon to put her in a box or a category and she won’t let Jon do that to himself either because They Are Lies. Instead of the breezy reassurances of Elias asking ‘what is human, really?’ we got instead the cold hard fact that backs up Jon’s own words: he feels different but he doesn’t know where the differences begin or end.

But that’s true of ANYONE. Every day, we’re constantly changing and growing and our experiences make us different people. We’re NOT the same person who went to sleep the night before and we’re not supposed to be. Jon’s so worried about losing who he is if he becomes a monster without realizing that one might not be the result of the other so much as Some People Are Willing To Take Any Excuse. And even for those needs that are part of their purpose (like Michael mentioned in earlier seasons) is it scarier or less scary when monsters have very human, very understandable grudges?

Jude killed a man and ruined his life while she was still human. HUMANS kill people and ruin their lives. And she spared Jon’s life because she felt indebted to Elias over a very HUMAN love for Agnes and a visceral appreciation for the fact that Elias killed Gertrude.

We’ve just had three pieces of information recently drop on us to make us SERIOUSLY consider what kind of person Gertrude was (willing to kill an innocent woman and victim who might have seen her? Jan Kilbride?) and she even seemed to delight in it a little even though who knows how many of the Flesh’s ‘assistants’ were there willingly or not. Gertrude was practically giggling about her explosives and making smirky comments about Lucia’s nightmares no longer bothering her, meanwhile the one person we know (confirmed) that Helen’s ever tried to kill she felt awful about. We don’t know if she’s tried to eat anyone else OTHER than Jared. Who’s to say she has?

What is a monster? What ISN’T a monster? And how easy is it to look at what fears (literally) can make us into and use them to excuse monstrous behavior. How easy is it to look at the world and say ‘well, I did it because that’s just what I am?’ as opposed to acknowledging that you’ve always got something of a choice. Being different than you started, having powers, being 90 degrees from normal... is that really what makes a ‘monster’ or is it just an easier excuse?

This was backed up by Jared “Fuck your Ritual” Hopworth who likes the world as it is. Who had no interest in changing things, and who’s even found some less horrific ways to practice his craft (look, the gym was terrifying, but the people there WERE actually happy, like, it’s fucked up no lie but he Wasn’t Actually Murdering People). Who yeah, is a violent serial killer, no excuses here, but he’s a violent serial killer in the sort of almost mundane way that makes him bizarrely more interesting.

There’s a lot of interesting lore things going on here, the rib bit definitely making me curious as to what our Archivist is going to end up looped into, and we’re probably going into the coffin next week because apparently 12 episodes is when a new season decides to throw us a curveball but I also think this episode had a lot of interesting shit to say about monsters and people and a reminder that these things aren’t pure ‘evil’ so much as about ‘fear’ and how that context can make for some interesting changes in the understanding of how they interact with human beings as the plot progresses.

#tma spoilers #the magnus archives #tma 131

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