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halos-top-alien-model · 6 months

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Sangheili Bracket Finals

Special propaganda below:

Thel's mind was still on the textual transmission sent to him when a sudden visitor broke his train of thought. It was one of his staff, letting him know that Admiral Lord Hood was making a sudden call request. Already suspecting what brought that on, he gave his approval. Only a few moments later, he was connected to Lord Hood via small holographic messaging - and couldn't even get a greeting out.

"I sincerely apologize for the overreach in boundaries that intern caused. I swear, the unauthorized decision to send that does not reflect at all what the UNSC stands for, and we greatly respect our alliance with the Sangheili."

Thel raised a hand. "I can perfectly see that, Lord Hood. For what other reason would your people be holding an... 'popularity tournament', if not out of respect?"

The grim line Lord Hood's mouth formed suggested there were other reasons, but Thel chose not to pry. Although, admittedly, it did make him curious on just how somehow could intend disrespect over a popularity contest. Perhaps because the nature of only one winner could be seen as an insult to all the losers? Even if most Sangheili did not particularly care about humans' opinions on themselves - either as a species or as individuals - it was probably safe to keep this secret, just to be safe.

"Civilians can take matters down... interesting routes, on social media," Lord Hood continued. "It was already a trend to run these contests over everything imaginable. When someone got the idea to do this with all the known Sangheili individuals, it was decided to hold off on addressing it. No need to bring further attention to it.

"But no one could've imagined someone trying to actively bring it to your attention."

He was clearly mortified. A bit embarrassed, too. And while Thel would love to throw him a bone and allow him to quickly put it out of mind, there was a thought he just couldn't leave unspoken. It was all that had been on his mind in between receiving the "tip" on the contest and Lord Hood's call.

"I see it as a compliment, that so much of your population can see me - and others of my people - so positively, in spite of how young our alliance is. There is one piece of feedback, though, that you could perhaps forward to... 'social media', on my behalf."

Thel could almost swear the shading of Lord Hood's holographic face got brighter, lighter in color. "I can try and pull some strings. Depending on the message."

Leaning closer on his desk, resting his elbows on the surface and interlocking his hands, Thel began, "I can understand why so many humans would vote for me in the case of a popularity poll. I am the one with the closest relationship to your kind, with the most cases of notable - peaceful - interactions, outside of my Covenant career. I am possibly the only Sangheili much of your kind even recognizes on an individual-level.

"But I must make a case for my opponent, Rtas 'Vadum. His leadership and diplomatic abilities surpass my own. He has a way of connecting with those hostile to him in ways I have yet to replicate - the Prelate that initially sought personal vengeance being one such example. It is the reason I trust him so much with the task of searching for the lost San'Shyuum - he is perhaps the only one capable. Capable in finding them and capable in forging peace. And while I am sure his crew are loyal to the Swords of Sanghelios, if they ever had to choose between myself and their shipmaster, I am also sure what their choice would be. And he has earned that loyalty.

"I also must point out his accomplishments - which hold less awkwardness than my own, particularly in the context of relations with humanity. He is the reason the Flood did not infect my fleet at the first discovered Halo, emerging the sole survivor of a perilous situation. His actions at the second Halo, I truly believe, ensured the strength of the Separatists that went on to aid humanity. It was him that did a lot of the rallying, it was him that claimed the crucial Shadow of Intent, and it was him that held our forces together in my absence. Again, his ability with words were valuable in maintaining morale, during the final hours of the Covenant. And his tactical mind, in emerging victorious when the odds were 3-1 against him.

"In conclusion... I feel the victor in this little contest should be him. Not me."

As Thel had explained his reasoning, Lord Hood had crossed his arms, eyes intently focusing. Maybe not necessarily on the Arbiter. When he finally had the opening to speak again, it seemed that he had become the one who couldn't help but let a pressing thought out.

"Really? Him? You're arguing he is the better leader, military man, diplomat - than you? And humanity should recognize that?" His arms uncrossed and went to his sides. "Do you know that to some, laying even a finger on Earth is more egregious than glassing dozens of colonies - even glassing Reach?"

"That is why I said less awkward." He should have braced for this skepticism, especially from Lord Hood. After all, he and Rtas did have a verbal spat that one time. Perhaps Lord Hood could never forgive Thel, but he certainly could maintain peace around him. There were valid reasons - not related to duty - as to why those two's paths never crossed again. Surely, Rtas would feel a bit of the same - he was not apologetic for Africa's partial glassing back then, he certainly wouldn't hold any regrets now. Not with anything related to the Flood.

"Although..." He sighed. "I can see why having a Sangheili other than you receive positive recognition is diplomatically valuable. If the peace between our species is centered solely on you, then it risks falling apart as soon as you're gone."

"Yes... there is also that angle to this."

"I will forward your argument to my colleagues and leave the choice up to them. They're the ones who deal with civilian matters more, anyway."

A funny thing about jointly occupied territory, is that it sometimes meant alien access to humanity's Waypoint - the interstellar network where the current iterations of social media called home. Such access would mean becoming aware of discussions of aliens online - including a certain popularity contest. And such awareness might warrant, to some, the passing of knowledge via word of mouth or transmissions. Even if no one directly told the Arbiter about the contest, it would have reached his ears eventually.

Just like with the Arbiter, there were those curious as to what Rtas' reaction would be like, and it thus reached him, too.

"Of course the Arbiter would win their approval," he said. "He deserves it. His higher reputation amongst humanity aside, he deserves it. He is the Arbiter, the one who freed our people from the Covenant's lies, the one who resurrected the Swords of Sanghelios, the one who proposed the Concert of Worlds. There is nothing I could do that he could not do better.

"Why is this even a contest? Amongst humans, no less? It was his word that kept me from glassing their entire planet, just to stop a Flood outbreak. It was his word back then that caused many Sangheili to ally with humanity, rather than fight both the Covenant and humans. It is his word now that continues to keep many Sangheili from seeking another war. Because he has proven his wisdom, and he has proven his honor. Those who continue to doubt either are fools that hold our people back. And their leaders cannot even match him."

"Well, hold it right there," Stolt, one of his most prominent subordinates despite being an Unggoy, cut in. "Have you seen the rest of this? The Arbiter is trying to convince these humans to vote for you."

Admittedly, he barely even started. When he saw it was nothing but a meaningless popularity poll human civilians were running, he stopped giving it much thought. Partially, it was due to already being convinced of the outcome - that the Arbiter would reign supreme and he would hardly been given notice. The only reason he wasn't questioning the fact that he was even named in this poll in the first place was due to there not being very many notable Sangheili in the human public eye, as far as he could tell. But he and the Shadow of Intent had played an important role in the end of the war, after the alliance had been forged. It wasn't completely out of the question that he garnered a bit of human attention over that - and not just from ONI spies.

It also wasn't out of the question that the Arbiter would speak of him around humans and make them more aware of his existence... such as now. He skimmed through what had been sent until he reached that part, quickly absorbing it.

Then he shook his head. "He is far too humble. A good chunk of this is mere exaggeration. How he even got the impression I was this grand, I have no idea. I am only doing what he asks of me to the best of my abilities. He deserves no less than that, and that does not make me superior. He would excel at all the same tasks had he the time to do them - it is only I who succeeded, because someone had to in his place.

"Besides, he is forgetting some of his own accomplishments that have nothing to do with humans. When he first became Arbiter, he passed his first mission with flying colors. I honestly did not expect him to even survive, pulling off the stunt he did - selflessly cutting the safety cables of that mining facility to draw out his target, while allowing all my men to retreat to safety. He did that knowing I would not come back for an Arbiter - he did it unaware that anyone would."

"Ah, but that was a mission to kill 'Heretics', right?" Stolt said again. "I'm sure the bitterness of knowing they were right all along and didn't need to be killed is why he would never even think that a merit."

"The target is irrelevant. The sentiment of his actions is what matters." Leaning back into his shipmaster's chair, he continued with a softer voice, "And he is wrong. About his talent for speech. And Infinite Succor... The fact I was the only survivor should say enough regarding my leadership in that moment. And the fact I was able to go back into the field, to command troops again... should say enough regarding his ability to speak to those under him. He has earned more loyal soldiers than I - and not entirely because he meets more people than I."

Clearing his throat, his voice hardened again. "Take the colony of Om'a'Varo, for instance. Those who settled on Rak. I believe it is not just him being humble that he's selling himself short - he takes the cases where his words are not enough to be a failing on his part, and not the failing of the other's mind. There are some who will just not listen. But he has gotten many to do so."

"So what I'm hearing is... we need to send in our own message to the humans to counter his?"

Rtas huffed. "That will not be necessary. Even with his endorsement, the humans will still choose him. I am certain of that. In the time we could draft a pointless transmission, we could be using our time and systems for more important tasks. This conversation, too, holds little worth - the only value being a stronger reiteration of what is already known."

With that, Rtas was finished with the subject. Well, almost, maybe. It crossed his mind to maybe, instead of sending his passionate argument to the humans, sneak a bit of the sentiment in his next report. Not obvious enough to distract from the report's actual content, but subtle enough to let the Arbiter know fully well that Rtas had heard him - and strongly disagreed.

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newtafterdark · 9 months

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Please release the black mold theory

I'll do my very best to keep this as short and as coheerend as possible - which will be a feat because Dan & I came up with the details of it throughout hours of going through the "Welcome Home" site.

The "Black Mold Theory" focuses on the black-ish growth that is both visible and referenced in one way or the other on several main- and hidden pages... and how it is a harmful entity towards everyone in the Restoration Project, the puppets & everyone who is interacting with "Welcome Home" in-universe, even just the smallest amount.

Now, why do I call it "black mold" specifically? Well, it looks, behaves and causes harm similarly to black mold in real life.

But with a conscious entity behind it.

The current events start with the WHRP crew receiving items that were part of the production of "Welcome Home" - with the first person to handle them remarking that everything "feels wet".

This continues as more people get brought in to help restore or simply file away art, photos, writing, merch, vinyl records... with now even a proper rule being put in place to "not touch any item with bare hands".

While that is a common rule for handling any old and damaged thing you're trying to restore... it is worrysome that the WHRP are very instant on that rule, as it is something the restoration folks would do so anyway.

Then... look at how the exibition looks like on the "Staff Only" page.

(Please go look through it yourself, it is so well-made! https://www.clownillustration.com/staff-only)

The walls are overgrown with a dark substance, looking either red or blue but mostly black, with clear hand prints on the walls and splatters of it on items & WHRP folks' notes-

It's on so many things, even seemingly pouring out of the safe from the inside. A safe that is seemingly holding old production items that were supposed to be given out as random prizes to the exhibition visiors.

And then there's the entity on the ceiling. You know, the blue-ish black mass clinging to the pipes and more notes by the crew, its fuzzy tendrils reaching out to hold itself in place on said pipes.

To observe? To watch as visitors touch the items that looked so prestine in the daylight, only to be shown to be contaminated with something when the lights are off? To now know that people are carrying parts of it our into the real world and into their own homes through having had hands-on contact with all the items present?

That is horrible enough for the people who touched it in real life - but... what if I told you that we have seen this thing in Home as well? Or more like... under Home?

When the "Welcome Home" site first went online, the mass on the Characters Page below Home looked like this. Something in the depths barely aware of the attention on it as we look into the dark abyss it's in.

Now, after the most recent update? Oh, the abyss is looking right back at us. And the black mass around it is growing as well.

The mold is actively spreading from under Wally's house, leaving him to deal with the brunt of its influence on the world he lives in.

Just how it is in the Real World, it is in the World of Welcome Home. As above... so below. Like the spiral imagery both Wally and the WHRP crew keep sketching on little notes.

Now... here is the part where I explain in detail why I call this thing "black mold" -

I've had to deal with the influence of black mold on the human body personally... and too much of this haunting entity reminds me of it.

The way black mold grows out in webs and clusters... how it thrives in wet and dark places - something that 100% happened to the items that the WHRP crew got their hands on, because old things rarely get stored in a way that keeps them from receiving lasting damage, especially water damage-

-and what it does to the human brain. Auditory halucinations (the phone ringing to one of the WHRP folks), visual halucinations & nightmares (perhaps the same member recalling a nightmare (?) of them seeing Wally sit at the end of their bed with a phone that kept ringing), sneezing (it's what the moldy bolders of the "Staff Only" page are named too), coughing, nausea, migraines, troubles with breathing, flat-out fainting... and heavy memory issues.

Everything we have seen the WHRP crew deal with... or, at least the person who is writing the newsletter, who also seems to be the person who opened the parcel that started all this - is not just happening in the Real World either. It is happening in Home too.

Memory issues are something Wally himself is dealing with as well, as we can see from the Guest Book sketches he left us so far. He can't seem to remember his past with everyone else in Home, but at least he still remembers that he loves all of his friends dearly & thinks about them a lot, even if he can't reach them right now.

We can hear the difference in Wally's voice recordings as well. To me, there is such a noticable difference to how he sounds in the actual show recordings (when things were still okay™) compared to the soundbits we have gotten through the bugs.

In those, he sounds like breathing is hard for him and like his focus isn't entirely there. Which is something that can happen if you're spending too much time in an area with high humidity, even without mold. It's exhausting to deal with and I feel so sorry for Wally, because he can't physically leave Home right now.

... now, we could leave the horror at that. This is already a dire situation for everyone in-universe.

But... what if this has happened before? What if the mold has spread so far throughout the country (or even other parts of the world) by speading itself through merchandise? And, remember - handling just a bit of something infected with it makes you forget so much already... would forgetting the entire show existed be so out of place now?

It got so much attention and so much of itself out there in the few years so much merch was produced by the Marlow company...

And look at what we're doing now. The WHRP is powered by people with their hands stained with the mold... and we keep spreading it further and further.

With every sticker we get told on the homepage to put on our own homepages, with every fanart, with every type of creative project related that we share online in so many places...

Meanwhile, Wally and his friend have no control over any of it. What can a being made of fabric, locked away in a dark moldy place do? There is no sunshine to dry the mold out. All they can do is yearn to be let out into the light as they try living and surving as the mold is trying to fully taking hold of them.

(It also is interesting how the Sally's house in Home is the only one with lights still on inside too, while everyone else's is dark. Is symbolism of light enough to keep the mold away at least in the world of Welcome Home?)

In my & Dan's opinion, the black mold is using Wally and the others like the puppets they are, Wally especially, because he is the face of the whole project after all.

Perhaps it is even taking advantage of now unfortunately ongoing thing with "mascot horror" on the internet, by focusing so much on him, but that is admittedly a reach on my part.

A last fun thing (genuinely, I'm having so much fun with these horror theories) to think about in combination with this theory that it is mold that wants to spread through merchendise-

Well, the new Makeship plush would be quite the addition to the storytelling of this, wouldn't you think? :)

This is the best way I can explain Dan's and my theory, though I am sure I might've forgotten smaller bits that lead to us crafting this theory. I don't think I will talk more about it because I rather observe than make up things for "Welcome Home", but theorizing with friends is always fun!

Again, this theory is based only on a few things we have gotten shown through the site so far, there is still so much Clown and their team want to show us, so please do not take this theory too seriously!

I for one will be genuinely excited if I have to throw this theory out the window after the next update! I am simply here to enjoy a beautiful and haunting story made by so many skilled folks! :>

#cw black mold poisioning descriptions #newt's ramblings #danstillcreates #welcome home #welcome home spoilers #(just in case folks have not seen the “Staff Only” page)#The Black Mold Theory #long post (past the read more)#again please don't take this as “we're solving WH!!!”#this is just two friends having fun with theories

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freakscircus · 10 months

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got my trip film back this morning - i shot an entire roll at weston hospital, formerly known as the trans-allegheny lunatic asylum in weston, west virginia. weston hospital is no longer a functioning hospital and hasn't been since the 1990s. weston was bought by a wealthy family in the area for the purposes of turning it into a location that could be open to the public. the owners tore down any condemned outbuildings or wings of the hospital that could not be repaired. everything else was fixed up to the point where the hospital looks abandoned, but there is no debris or danger and it is safe enough for visitors. they offer multiple tours - my partner and i opted for the longest tour, which was about 90 minutes of basic history about the hospital and access to all open floors.

i have mixed feelings about TALA/weston. there is a small town built around the hospital, and clearly the town was at its peak when the hospital was still in use. tourism is clearly the main driver to the town now, supported by the asylum tours. the tour we took was okay... the tour guides are quite knowledgeable but they are open that they are not historians or experts on the asylum, and honestly with what they are paid they should not be expected to be. the history tours are sparse - the main draw are paranormal tours, halloween parties, and to my horror there are karaoke parties held in a large room that used to be a communal women's bedroom, similar to photos you may have seen of dozens of women crammed into a space filled with single cot beds.

i understand that it would be highly unrealistic to expect this space to become solely a landmark dedicated to remembering ableism or psychiatric abuse inflicted for over a hundred years. undertaking research done by trained historians is not sustainable and employees with that training would not do minimum wage tour work. the hospital is expensive to maintain and constantly falling apart which requires employing a full time maintenance staff. the big draw is booking the space for events or having people flock to pay for ghost tours. i also understand that not many people are interested in an academic style tour that breaks down the history of the hospital from a disability studies perspective. i understand all of that. but it just feels so wrong to hear a harrowing story about the lobotomies performed here and then in the next breath hear about the parties that corporations throw at the asylum for the spooky novelty. maybe i'm a giant hypocrite myself being icked out then photographing these spaces to post online. i don't really know what the answer is. i suppose i'd rather have this space saved but exploited as opposed to being completely torn down.

i guess my one wish would be more academic work surrounding the hospital. i looked up weston/TALA through my university's academic journal page and there is not one in depth scholarly article about it. there are, however, many ghost story and paranormal books and chapters on the hospital written by laypeople. if i wasn't exhausted trying to write an entire book-length dissertation on a completely different topic, maybe i would try to undertake it myself. there is fascinating disability studies/disability history work being done in canada on lakeshore psychiatric, which was the largest psychiatric hospital in the country. i wish the same would be done for some of the asylums that dot the south. i don't know.

#the one thing they are very respectful and stringent about is that nobody is allowed in the hospital cemetery

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ciaossu-imagines · 5 months

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Could you write something, you’re allowed to choose the format, of Namba going through a zombie apocalypse?

Of course I can! Thank you for sending this in, since I mentioned having a lot of ideas for this that I never thought I'd get the chance to rant about and now I can! I hope you'll all enjoy the ranting!

So, the zombie apocalypse comes to Nanba Prison. There's a couple ways I could see it happening. One way it could go is that a visitor, or even one of the prison staff or guards, could unknowingly have gotten infected on the mainland. Maybe they had a random and bizarre experience with someone already zombified and they blamed the encounter on someone just being high on bath salts. Maybe the food they ate carried the virus needed to create zombies. Whatever way it happened, they unwittingly got exposed to whatever makes people turn into zombies and then, when they did get onto the island, the virus really took hold and they went full zombie and started attacking. While that initial zombie was probably put down and put down relatively quickly, they managed to do some damage and spread the virus to at least a couple more people, who then spread it to a couple more before they could be killed and so on and so forth until it's getting more and more difficult to keep up with putting them out of their misery.

Another way it could happen? It could definitely be an experiment the Otogi's were working on together that went terribly, terribly wrong. I think I prefer the first one a little better, just because in this kind of scenario, the Otogi's would either become some of the first to go zombie or just straight up get killed and that really puts Nanba in a real tight spot as to whether anyone survives because they really need their healers and researchers.

Now, in a way, Nanba is the perfect place for the zombie apocalypse to really break out. It's not only inescapable but it's pretty impenetrable, not only with the high walls and security feature but by the simple fact that it is an island. There's only one way on, one way off really. I think that's something that was banked upon during the first initial outbreak, when things were getting bad but still seemed to be under control. Momo ordered all forms of transportation to the island to cease temporarily but overall, the guards figured their strength and diligence alone could prevent it from spreading.

When things started to spin and the zombies started getting more plentiful in number, too much to easily control and take down, Nanba goes into full lockdown mode. Each building is quarantined, much like how we saw Building 5 during the Enki arc. Travel between different buildings is forbidden and the guards are given the orders. Squash this zombie uprising, protect your prisoners, and prevent any prisoners from trying to escape.

In headquarters, Momoko is in charge, overseeing everything, and really tries to keep a handle on the situation. She plans and oversees this as the commanding chief of an army would and believe me, she puts her army to good use.

Of course, she's only able to do that because Mitsuru is also locked safely in headquarters with her. If it wasn't for Mitsuru's communications and technological skills keeping all the different buildings connected and updates kept coming at hourly intervals, Nanba would likely have fallen completely.

Of course, the Otogi's and KAGU-8 are also within headquarters, commanding their teams in a joint effort operation to figure out what the hell is causing all this, to find a cure for it, and to figure the best way to get that cure out to everyone who might need it.

KAGU-8 actually comes in incredibly useful as well because, as a robot, she is immune to becoming a zombie. She goes out of the building whenever it's deemed safe (as in, she won't let anything in and they know she can't transmit the virus back to them as it's not anything skin to skin contact), acting in a variety of manners. Not only can she give them a better view of the actual situation outside of their building, but she can act as a go-between and aid various buildings in need of support.

Because animals also seem to be completely immune to being turned zombie, Kyakuya, Hiiragi, Tsubaki, Sazanka, and Kikiyou also help KAGU-8 in those kind of roles and they're also a valuable source of intel for Building 4.

And Building 4? It makes itself useful. Not only is Yozakura exceptionally strong and more than capable of taking down a single zombie, but he is a very smart man and knows how to research and investigate. Musashi actually is allowed out of his cell, though he must still be closely supervised every minute, under the orders of the Warden, to help as that is something Musashi excels at as well. Building 4 really dedicates itself to helping Headquarters' research and investigation team as much as they possibly can. Even though Hitoshi isn't really the most skilled at research, they help by taking care of the others, rationing out food while still making sure everyone is fed, and really taking over the supervising of the other guards and the overseeing of the prisoners.

Speaking of food, it becomes clear after the first week or so that travel must be established between the different buildings so that rations and provisions can be shared. Not only that, but after the first building or two fell due to zombies, it became apparent that staff needed to have a way for backup to reach them in case things did start to go bad inside a building.

While Momoko and Hajime will definitely need to have a meeting after this whole thing is over, it's really Building 13's time to shine when it comes to finding ways for the Buildings to safely travel between each other. While Jyugo and the others normally keep their travelling within Building 13, Jyugo has probably snuck around to other buildings without Hajime or the boys noticing, just because he could. And with the inmates of Building 13 really being given a little leniency, and the blueprints to Nanba, it's a walk in the park for them to figure out, test, and secure safe passage between the various buildings. Anyone going between the buildings must be accompanied by a Guard, and honestly Building 13's supervisors and guards have the best reputation and everyone wants them to accompany them. The pure amount of just stupid levels of strength and combat that both Yamato and Hajime have make them more than capable of taking on any zombies that come their way. Seitarou and Tsukumo, meanwhile, actually have really fast reflexes and a kind of stealth that makes them really talented at going safely in between the different buildings and at leading groups between buildings.

Building 3 finds their purpose during the apocalypse in several ways. Not only do Honey and Trois team up but they also team up with Ruka under the supervision of Kiji and start to produce various weapons and battle plans and tactics. Honey often collaborates with Building 4, Uno, and even the Warden herself on one occasion when it comes to tactics and plans. But they also do something else that proves useful as the apocalypse wears on. The communications channel gets turned over to Building 3 once a day, where Kiji or other staff from Building 3 just spread positivity, remind everyone of why they're fighting, assure them that things will return to normal, and remind everyone that they also need to take care of themselves. Shower as often as you can, make sure you get your beauty rest, don't forget good skin-care and little mindfulness breaks, just to keep yourself looking and feeling the best you can. After all, if you look and feel good, you can conquer anything, even a horde of zombies.

Building 5 tends to be the building most everyone counts on to actually go out and put those plans and tactics into action. They're really the front-line soldiers of this battle and not without very good reason. Not only are the guards of Building 5 exceptionally physically and mentally strong, but it's inmates are normally quite physically strong and talented fighters in their own rights. Even Qi gets drafted, becoming a sort of combat medic and he's the one to test the zombie antidote, each time the Research Team thinks they have perfected it, out in the field. Other inmates and guards from different buildings do back them up whenever possible, but they are really the ones in charge down on the ground.

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whumpsmith-participates · 19 days

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Medwhump May 2024

Day 18 - Appendicitis

TW: organised crime, (backgrond) character death, poisoning, fever, faining, vomit

@medwhumpmay

Jonas was a punctual person. Or at least he tried to be. Working as a consigliere he had to be. Any imperfection could be seen as a sign of weakness, and any sign of weakness could be seen as an invitation to attack, and any attack posed a threat to his livelyhood.

So when he woke up with a fever one morning, he couldn't just simply call in sick. He had to show up and show everyone that everything was still in perfect working order.

"Jonas, you're late, that's so unlike you!"

Tito dabbed at his mouth with his napkin, having just finished his breakfast when Jonas walked in. Usually he was already there before he even started eating, briefing him on his schedule and any important news from his organisation.

"I apologise," Jonas said, "traffic was abysmal, more so than usual."

"Oh thank goodness," Tito said, "I was beginning to worry the feds had finally gotten to you."

"I would've sent them straight to you, sir," Jonas said, booting up his tablet and opening Tito's schedule.

"That's my boy," Tito said, "we can do the usual ritual while we climb to my office."

Tito's office was located on the highest floor of his manor, the many stairs acting as a deterrent for any intruders, and a way to exhaust visitors so they would think twice before trying anything to harm the head of their organisation.

Having worked for Tito for years, Jonas wasn't usually too bothered by the stairs, not to mention he could always take it easy while Tito huffed and puffed his way to the top, not having the same stamina as pretty much all of his staff.

Today, however, he found himself out of breath too, struggling to keep up with Tito of all people, while climbing the stairs and talking at the same time. Tito noticed right away. Normally Jonas was only one step behind him, but today he was about two or three steps behind and dropping a lot of pauses in his sentences to catch his breath.

"Jonas, are you alright?"

Tito stopped walking, turning back to face his assistant. Jonas simply pulled a hand through his hair before clearing his throat.

"I'm fine," he insisted, "where was I? Oh right, after the meeting with the chiefs, your wife scheduled the rest of your afternoon for family time— For your daughter's cello recital."

"Oh yes, I'm sure she'll play wonderfully," Tito said, continuing up the stairs. Jonas followed, beginning to notice a stinging pain in his lower abdomen, but he could see the guard by Tito's office leering at them, so he put on a strong face and kept up with Tito as he always did.

It was even more important to keep it together during the meeting with the chiefs. They could be considered upper management, important cogs in the machine that kept their organisation running. Important, yet not irreplacable.

Jonas doubted any of the chiefs would have the guts or even the ambition to make a move if he was only a little bit feverish for once, but today's meeting wasn't anything standard, no. Tito had called a meeting to keep them in line, revealing right off the bat that one of them had betrayed him. He gave them the usual speech about trust and disappointment, before ordering the loyal chiefs to restrain the soon-to-be ex-chief.

That was Jonas' cue to open the terrarium behind Tito's desk, catching one of the small, colourful frogs with a pair of tongs and holding it up for everyone to see while Tito explained in gruesome detail what the frog's neurotoxin would do to the traitor.

The older chiefs knew what to expect and what to do, using the traitor's own belt and necktie to tie him to his chair, cutting the buttons off his shirt and pulling it open before taking a safe distance as Jonas placed the frog on the traitor's knee.

He pleaded, apologised, begged for another chance, but Tito didn't even respond. He simply discussed the options for his replacement with the other chiefs, while the frog slowly crawled around on the traitor's leg before it suddenly hopped onto his bare chest.

Jonas retrieved the frog when the man began choking, indicating that the poison was doing its work. He put it back in its terrarium, throwing in a handfull of extra ants as a treat for the frog to hunt after. He was glad his back was facing the room when the pain in his lower abdomen suddenly came with a strong wave of nausea.

He briefly lost track of the conversation, but composed himself in time to pick it back up. Tito instructed the remaining chiefs to get rid of the body, before asking Jonas for a suggestion on what to do with him.

"We could send him to his family so they can bury him," Tito mused, "unless you have a better idea, Jonas?"

"...send him to his successor," Jonas said, "let the way he handles this be his first test."

"Or hers," Tito chimed in.

"Whatever you say, sir."

He watched the remaining chiefs drag out the corpse, waiting for the door to close behind them before loosening his tie a bit and taking a deeper breath than normal.

"What's next on the agenda?" Tito asked obliviously.

"Lunch," Jonas said, "you insisted to go downstairs for lunch, for your health."

"Me and my good ideas," Tito sighed, before getting up from his desk.

Jonas held the door open for him, and closed it behind them, turning to follow Tito down the stairs, but the motion dizzied him, and he had to pause before he would fall down the steps. Maybe while Tito was having lunch he could find someplace private and lay down for a moment, but for now he had to endure the pain and vertigo and make it down the stairs in one piece without falling behind too far.

Which was easier said than done.

Tito noticed Jonas was falling behind again, turning back to check on him, only to see him clutching his stomach and leaning on the railing more than usual.

"Jonas? Are you alright— Good grief!"

He gasped as his assistant suddenly collapsed and rolled down the stairs, and the next one, and the next one... Each guard in the vicinity was alerted by Tito's reaction and the noise and rushed to his aid. Tito didn't hesitate as he quickly and carefully hurried down as well.

"Don't move him!" he said, "call an ambulance! Check if he's breathing, only move him if necessary!"

He had his frogs in the back of his mind. Jonas knew how to handle them, but was there a chance he had accidentally been exposed to their poison? One of the guards carefully checked Jonas without moving him, only for Jonas to start moving himself, convulsing once or twice before coughing up a handful of bile.

"I have to clear the airway, sir," one of the guards said, before rolling Jonas on his side, "he's burning up too— Is this an assassination attempt?!"

"I'm afraid I don't know," Tito said, "just make sure he keeps breathing while we wait for the ambulance— You had a first-aid class, right?"

"Yes, sir," the guard said, "and you're right, it's the best we can do until help gets here."

"Good, good— Oh goodness!" Tito said, turning away as Jonas threw up again. At least that confirmed it wasn't the frogs...hopefully. He just had to trust they'd be able to figure it out at the hospital.

Taking a lil break from the dynamic duo to bully their nemesis instead :3

Masterlist Main account

#medwhump may #day 18 #vv #jonas #tito #unnamed guard nr 1 #unnamed guard nr 2

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hedgiwithapen · 9 months

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DHD: Sylvester wakes up in a body again for the first time after ?? years of being just an agonized screaming brain, and Pat is there, safe and sound, welcoming him back 💖

Btw feel free not to answer ALL of these. I will not be hurt. I’m just clinging prompts at the mighty hedgehog wall.

no I'm answering all of them :)

The pain in his head stopped abruptly. Sylvester wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not. Why had Icicle stopped--had they stopped? Or was this some sick part of the plan, too? His fingers flecked and cramped. All at once, different sensations made themselves known. Gone was the crushing pressure of leather straps pinning his arms and legs to Ito’s cold table. Something heavy was draped over his legs and chest instead, and under his nose, a thin tube pressed cool air up, smelling faintly of plastic. He breathed in. His arm felt bruised. One hand was warm. He didn’t want to open his eyes, find out what Ito and Icicle and that damn gorilla had made him into. “Sylvester? You with me?” a familiar, agonizingly familiar, voice asked from his right. Icicle had been standing there, moments ago. Pat hadn’t been there, so how was he there now? He forced his eyes open. Pat needed to be protected. Pat needed to get out of this. That was his job. Get Pat out.

The room was bright, and white, and sunlit, a window with long fluttering blinds sending shadows across the ceiling. Even the warm air smelled clean, too clean, deliberately so. He couldn’t blink, couldn’t take it in. how had it all changed from Ito’s lair, dust and must and flickering torchlight to this, in moments? Another figure stood next to Pat, Pat who wasn’t bound or bruised, Pat who was holding his hand, and as the shape came into focus, Sylvester Understood. Dr. Charles McNider was here. He was here. Pat was here. “’m sorry,” he mumbled, closing his eyes. “What?” Pat leaned closer, squeezing his hand. It was so warm. Sylvester wasn’t sure why. “Hey, easy Sly. It's me. It’s Pat. You know me. It’s alright. Everything’s alright.” “Was it fast?” he asked, cracking his eyes open again. “Was what fast?” Pat asked, worry making him look older. “When they caught you. I’m sorry, Pat. I should have protected you.” “Sylvester,” Charles broke in, urgently. “It’s alright. The ISA is gone. Icicle, Dragon King, all of them. We beat them.” “No, they killed you. We’re dead.” “We’re not dead,” Pat said. “The Shade saved Charles, and the staff saved your body, and… and a new team saved you. Saved me. It’s ok.” Pat wouldn’t lie. Not about that. Sylvester looked at him closer. “You have a beard.” “Yeah. A lot’s changed. Do you feel up to another visitor?” Sylvester tried to shift in the bed, uncertain. “Rex?” he asked. Rex had made it out… Pat’s eyes dropped. “No,” he said, soft. “But someone’s waited a long time to see you again.” He eased his hand from Sylvester’s, going to the window, and whistled, one long note. A trill responded. The Staff shot through the window, sunlight in its wake, circling the hospital bed and turning over and over in the air before settling down across Sylvester’s lap. “Hello, old friend,” Sylvester whispered. “You kept him safe?” Light bobbled up and down the staff’s length with a cheerful warble. “I did,” Pat echoed.

#dammit hedgi day 2023 #Stargirl #Sylvester Pemberton #Pat Dugan #he loves pat so much! I'm so normal about this!!!

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ipsen · 11 months

Text

Blank Canvas Chapter 6

Read on AO3. Summary: Kaneki breaks the law to see a serial killer. Word Count: 4183 Chapter 7 Chapter 5 Master Post

Kaneki left his and Hide’s apartment at midnight.

What was he doing?

He caught the final trains to travel from the 12th ward to the 23rd.

What was he doing?

Armed with little else but his wits and his bag, he crossed the now-empty streets and into dark alleys as per Takatsuki’s helpful, if cryptic, directions.

What was he doing?

And that was how he, Ken Kaneki, also known as Haise Sasaki, came to stand in front of the fence around Cochlea, the prison for life-sentence and death-row inmates, at 2AM on a midsummer night with Sen Takatsuki.

Apparently, she had a contact on the inside that could get them a conversation with certain inmates, but they had to visit outside of operating hours to do it. Which was definitely illegal and, worst case scenario, could land them in the very prison they were about to enter.

“Um, T-Takatsuki…” He swallowed. “When I said I was ‘curious’ about meeting a serial killer—”

“No time like the present!” Before he could continue, she, in a surprising motion, scrambled up the fence and landed safely on the other side. Oh, she was athletic too. Huh. Wait, this was not the time for that. He— They— really shouldn’t be here.

She wiped her hands on her skirt and glanced up. With the addition of the lights around the prison, he saw she had low-hanging pigtails for tonight. It was a cute look stop. “You coming, Haise? I’m leaving you behind if you don’t.”

“I-I—”

“If you’re worried about getting caught, I’m pretty sure we can take a guard or two.” The burning lights of Cochlea cast a sharp shadow over her face, but Kaneki knew she was grinning. “‘Strength in numbers’ and all that.”

“B-But—”

Takatsuki turned on her heel and started walking away, forcing him to choose between leaving her alone and standing in the dark and quivering in his boots alone.

With his fists like iron and an utter of something between a groan and a warcry, he ran at the fence and scaled it with ease, though he landed with an uncomfortably loud thump.

She whistled. “Impressive. You honestly didn’t strike me as the athletic type.”

“M-My friend’s always dragging me to her judo classes,” he admitted, rubbing his neck.

“Huh…” There was a beat as she digested the information. Was there something weird about that? He hoped not. “I see. Well, come on, then. Don’t wanna be caught with our pants down.”

Right, right. She led him to the side of the visitors’ center. The whole time, his gaze darted this way and that, half-expecting a security guard to round the corner and ruin their lives forever. The past few months had been one thing, but breaking into Washuu property was an entirely different thing. And the way Takatsuki talked about it made it seem like she’d done this before.

Who was she?

They arrived at a small door with a ‘STAFF ONLY’ sign on it. Takatsuki boldly reached out to turn the handle when she noticed something.

“Shit, they added a keypad,” she muttered. “Well, he probably knows it’s us.”

Who was ‘he’? Before Kaneki could ask, she cleared her throat and rapped her knuckles on the door, nearly making him jump out of his skin. “Big Bin!!” she called way too loud. “It’s me!”

“What are you doing?” he practically hissed. “What if someone hears us?!”

She laughed. “We’ll be fine.”

It did nothing to assuage his fears. She took the time to inhale the scent of their new surroundings and did a twirl. It would have been mesmerizing in any other setting. “Exciting, isn’t it?”

Was it? His pounding heart and sweaty feet begged to differ. “We could get arrested…”

“And?” She glanced at him. “They won’t catch us if we’re smart. Plus, Bin will cover us when it comes to security footage, so I wouldn’t worry.”

If everything went according to plan, then yes, Takatsuki made a good point, but—

“You’re already in; I really don’t see the point in lamenting it now.” The door made a clicking noise and she opened it, giving him no choice but to follow her in. “And it’s not like we’re stupid enough to take anyone with us.”

They seemed to have entered some sort of electric room based on the unpainted walls and the loud hum of a large metal box nearby. The lights were dimmer than outside but no less white, and Kaneki occasionally had to duck to avoid a stray pipe going from wall to wall.

They came to another door, and she led him into the main hall, which looked much more visitor-friendly than the outside. He felt a bit more at ease in the space, and took a moment to calm himself and breathe.

There was a reception desk, and manning it was a man with sunglasses and wild black hair, which clashed with the collar shirt and belted pants expected of security guards. “Hey, Sen.” He yawned. “I see you’ve brought company this time.”

“Big Bin!” Takatsuki waved back, trotting to the desk. “This is Haise! He’s my artist.”

“Oh, this is the artist, huh?” Big Bin looked him up and down. “Name’s Bin.”

“P-Pleasure,” Kaneki gave a quick bow.

Big Bin wore a sympathetic smile. “First time, eh? Sen, you sure you shoulda dragged him here? I mean—”

“He’s here, isn’t he?” Takatsuki tapped Kaneki’s arm and made him flinch. “It means he’s got guts.”

Kaneki scratched his head. “I guess…”

Big Bin looked between them for a moment, then shrugged. “Alright, I’ll get you set up with the… Priest, was it?”

Kaneki blanched.

“Yep!” Takatsuki chirped.

—

The Priest, an infamous serial killer otherwise known as Donato Porpora. An immigrant from Russia, his M.O. was an unmarked cross atop the victim’s neatly folded clothing. The body itself was butchered and fed to the orphans he cared for. In a strange twist of fate, that same act of taking lives was the one to save his own; he had taken such good care of the orphans that he was not placed on death row and instead placed in Cochlea for the rest of his life. That was thirteen years ago now.

He was also the one responsible for killing Kurona and Nashiro’s father.

Kaneki and Takatsuki were taken directly to Donato’s cell, where the only thing separating them was a makeshift desk and a sheet of glass with holes on top for ventilation. The rest of the room was made of solid steel. Peering behind the glass, Kaneki noticed the tiny bed Donato slept in, along with a small table against the back wall with various books and writings organized neatly on top of it. For a crazed killer, he was surprisingly organized.

“Sasaki, just so you know,” Big Bin’s words echoed in Kaneki’s head, “he may be out of practice, but he ran a confessional at his orphanage. So whatever you do, don’t let him get inside your head.”

Donato was doing some stretches when Kaneki and Takatsuki walked in.

“Well, well, look who it is,” Donato said, grinning as he took his seat. “I was told I had a visitor, but I suppose it was only ever going to be you.”

Takatsuki gave a practiced smile: the one Kaneki knew as fake. “Hello, Donato.”

He crossed his legs and chuckled. “Come to pick my brain again, then? Though I can’t help but notice you’re not alone this time…”

“This is Haise; he’s my new assistant for my next story.”

Donato made Kaneki feel as though he were being undressed by gaze alone. “Oh? And here I was, thinking you had retired; I’m glad to be wrong. These last three years have been rather… lacking without your work on the shelves.”

“You’re too kind.” She took out her notepad and sat down.

“I must know: why go to me again? I thought everything I told you last time went into The Black Goat’s Egg and The Hanged Man’s MacGuffin.” He grinned.

Kaneki swallowed. He thought the mother’s murders in the story were familiar. The gruesome descriptions when she cut up her latest victim evoked almost a sort of ritualistic carving, like a butcher brutally but cleanly severing a pig’s head. Now he realized those descriptions had had a primary source.

Takatsuki’s expression shifted to one of rare annoyance. She spun her pen between her fingers to focus. “You didn’t tell me everything, so I’m back. Simple as that.”

Donato, brow raised in amusement, gestured for her to continue.

“What’s your opinion on people in your profession getting hired?”

Kaneki gaped at her. Just like that?

Donato just chuckled. “You certainly come up with interesting ideas.”

“I am a writer,” she quipped, returning to that pleasant but tight smile. “I just want to make sure I’m representing your trade properly. Nobody likes a fish out of water unless they want to eat it.”

“Well, I suppose I would be lying if I hadn’t received my fair share of offers in my time,” Donato checked his nails, recalling what might be considered better times, “but if you’re going to ask who those might be, I cannot help you.”

A shadow crossed her expression. “Oh, I don’t need names. I just need to know what sorts of targets you got. Were they political figures? Celebrities? The homeless? Were you offered anything overseas? How about—”

Donato listened carefully to each query, but his gaze wandered to Kaneki soon enough, and Kaneki shifted in his seat.

“Sen,” he said, putting up a hand to stop her. “I will answer your questions, but I will require something in exchange.”

Takatsuki’s brow furrowed, almost like she was glaring. “Depends.”

“I’d like to ask your assistant a few questions. Preferably alone.”

It took all of Kaneki’s willpower not to point at himself. Him? Alone? With a serial killer? Sure, there were measures to make sure Donato didn’t strangle him through the glass and use his bones as a lockpick, but— alone?

“No.”

“No?” Donato repeated.

“You heard me. No.” She stood up. “I guess I’ve wasted my time. Come on, Haise.”

“You haven’t even given him a choice,” Donato pointed out. “At least hear him out.”

She hesitated, but glanced at Kaneki. “What do you think?”

Kaneki frowned. It seemed unlikely they would get another opportunity like this; Donato clearly knew something about what she was asking. It would be key to progressing the story forward. While the main character, Fushimi, and his investigation were generally laid out, the nature of the antagonists— the mysterious lobbyist organization called the Hierophants— and their serial killer partners were still a mystery. If Donato could be of any help, then a simple request seemed paltry in comparison.

Yet for some reason, Takatsuki was ready to give up that information. All because of Kaneki’s inexperience. It was his fault. As usual. Hide still paid Kaneki’s half of the rent. Touka and Yoriko still gave him free pastries. Even at his own job, he still got free meals out of it when he went with— no, he didn’t go with; he followed, like the mindless sheep he was— Takatsuki. He was still a burden.

No more. She needed answers, and he was tired of being helpless.

Takatsuki shrugged. “I guess that’s no deal, Donato. We’ll just be—”

“I’ll do it.”

Now it was her turn to gape at him. “Haise—!”

“I-I’ll do it!” Kaneki declared a little louder.

“What’re you—”

“The boy’s spoken, Sen.” Donato grinned a little wider. “I think we should respect his… tenacity.”

She lingered on Kaneki for a bit longer, searching for something or trying to decide what to say. But nothing came out of her mouth.

“I-I’ll be okay. Really.” Kaneki hated how he stammered, but he wanted to make her feel a bit more confident in him. He had to be his own person.

Eventually, she relented, and she stood up and placed a hand on his shoulder. “I’ll be in the waiting room. Don’t stay any longer than you want to.”

It was reassuring at best, and frightening at worst. “I-I won’t.”

“I mean it, Haise.” There was a strange aspect to her voice, like a trembling tower before it collapsed.

He nodded and gave her his best smile. It was returned half-heartedly.

She shot a look at Donato he couldn’t decipher before stepping out of the room. The light in the room hummed above them, and without Takatsuki’s voice and energy filling the air, Kaneki realized just how suffocating it really was. This atmosphere would drive him crazy if he stayed long enough; he couldn’t even begin to imagine how Donato could live here.

“She’s charming, don’t you think?” Donato looked amused.

“I-I suppose so.” Kaneki rubbed his chin idly. That was an understatement, in his opinion.

“This is your first time in Cochlea, isn’t it? What do you think?”

He shouldn’t answer the first question, but the second one was probably okay. “It’s large.”

“Hm. So it is.” Donato glanced down at Kaneki’s bag. “What do you have in there?”

Definitely don’t answer that.

“Allow me to guess: books.”

Kaneki tensed up, and it was over.

“It was an easy guess, don’t worry. Sen prefers company with other readers.” He stood and walked to the back of the room, picking up one of the books there. “I find myself agreeing; intelligent company is often more pleasing than not.”

Kaneki hated how much he agreed. People who read books and understood their content were surprisingly few and far between. It was why when Rize left him— No, stop that. That’s in the past.

Donato chuckled and took his seat again. “There’s no need to be so tense, Haise. You can be honest with me; it is not as if I will be leaving this place.” He gestured to the egregiously shiny walls and thick glass separating them. “And even if I could, I doubt there is a comfortable life awaiting me. Always on the run, with no way to truly and peacefully enjoy my favorite pastime… No, those days are long gone, and wishing for them will not bring them back.”

Pastime, as in murder. Cannibalization.

“It is better here, where I get two meals and an hour’s worth of exercise a day. On weekends, I even get taken to see the sky.”

And he would repeat this until he died in this very cell. At that thought, Kaneki’s brow furrowed; even for the man who made Kurona and Nashiro’s lives miserable, it seemed a bit much to treat anyone like that. At some point, even the death penalty seemed more humane. “Is… Is that all…?”

Donato laughed. “Is that pity I detect, Haise? Sen certainly has a strange taste in friends.”

He cradled his hands, and started pressing down on his knuckles, one at a time, with the opposite thumb until it cracked. Kaneki winced each time. He wondered if Donato had strangled Mr. Yasuhisa with those hands. What did it feel like, taking someone away from everyone they cared about? What did it feel like, knowing that one action could permanently change someone you’d never met?

“I was given a copy of both The Black Goat’s Egg and The Hanged Man’s MacGuffin when they were released, as compensation for the information I provided. It was… enlightening, so to speak.”

Crack. Crack.

Perhaps Cochlea had served as inspiration for the latter book. Donato’s routine, if it was true, was lifted directly from reality to be placed on the page, though with some minor changes to appear more cruel and unusual.

“For a moment, I almost felt as though there was finally someone on the other side of my cell that saw me—” Crack. Crack— “or at least, they saw my situation.”

With every finger done, he rested his hands back in his lap and smiled. Kaneki was made even more uncomfortable by it.

“They must have caused quite the stir amongst the masses when they released in the order they did. She always has been a bit of a boat-rocker. Ever since she was young…” Donato trailed off, his gaze passing Kaneki and settling elsewhere. “Ah, but that is not my place to say. We are never truly alone except with our thoughts.”

“You… knew her as a child?” Kaneki couldn’t help but ask.

“Just in passing.” Donato smiled back, but there was a thin coat of poison on his lips. “I do not envy her.”

Kaneki briefly glanced behind him, toward the waiting room. Takatsuki having a hard life was a bit hard to imagine, he had to admit. She was friendly, intelligent, and clearly well off. The idea of someone like that falling through the cracks… Well, maybe it wasn’t so hard after all. Failure due to outside circumstances came to people surprisingly easy. As for the nature of that failure, and how a serial killer like the Priest could know about it— that was the difficult part.

“You seem to still be on edge, Haise.” Donato leaned forward. “I may be out of practice, but I know a thing or two about confessing.”

“N-No thank you…” he muttered, curling his toes in his shoes. “Even if I’m… sympathetic to your plight, you still—”

— killed people. Killed Mr. Yasuhisa. Made Kurona and Nashiro miserable for the rest of their lives. Destroyed homes. Destroyed families and friends. Destroyed.

It earned him another chuckle from Donato. “You seem to be familiar with my work. Am I wrong?”

Kaneki shook his head after some hesitation. “I… know the children of one of your victims.”

“A shame, then.” Donato shrugged. “If it is of any consolation, none of my killings were personal. Not really.”

Kaneki grimaced. It meant nothing. He wasn’t even a victim and it meant nothing.

“I am a survivor, first and foremost. I do what I must to feed who I must, and that includes myself.” Donato’s eyes once again wandered over the exposed parts of Kaneki’s body. “And even if I were out and about, you aren’t nearly close enough to my… type.”

‘Type’, as in ‘victim’. The statement made Kaneki want nothing more than to stand up and leave. But he had to stay so that he— therefore Takatsuki— could get what he had.

“What, um… What is your ‘type’?” he asked quietly.

Donato smirked, as though he were waiting for that question. “What else do you know about my work?”

What was it with meeting people who wanted to test him? “I-I know you fed your victims to the orphans in your care…” he mumbled, fighting a queasy stomach. It was on a documentary Hide and he had watched a long time ago.

“Yes, I did. And what do you know about my orphanage?”

“It was the sole reason you weren’t put on death row.” He rested his chin in his hand. “The orphans were intelligent and… well-fed.”

The orphanage was rather sizable, especially for how it was run by not only a single man, but a priest at that. Feeding all those mouths regularly, even with donations and the other components of a healthy meal—

He glanced up at Donato. “You preferred heavier people.”

Yet as he said it, he also knew that didn’t make sense. He had never met Mr. Yasuhisa in person, but he had seen pictures; Mr. Yasuhisa was wiry in every single one, even in one taken mere weeks before his death.

… Takatsuki had asked if he’d been approached for ‘hiring’. Was Mr. Yasuhisa targeted? And if so, by who?

Donato watched the gears in Kaneki’s brain turn. “Sometimes, Haise, when confronting a ‘child’, one must explore the circumstances of the ‘parent’.”

Kaneki blinked, confused. What did that—

“You will find everything you need in my case file.” He smiled venomously. “Good luck, Haise.”

What? What made him think Kaneki could access a government case file? Maybe it was a riddle; Donato seemed the type to like those. How strange that Kaneki would have something in common with a mass murderer.

He went to the door, but then remembered—

“Mr. Porpora,” he turned back around, “I had a question for you.”

“Oh?” Donato, the convicted serial killer, looked surprised. “Ask away.”

“Why do you help Takatsuki?”

A shadow dashed across his face, lancing through Kaneki and exiting through the door. “Vengeance.”

———

Kaneki found Takatsuki swinging her legs in one of the waiting room chairs, playing with her pen between her nose and lip and reading her notebook. On another day, he would have thought it charming, but Donato’s final words rang in his head, coloring his view.

Vengeance. What did that mean? Combined with her pinpoint question about assassination and the disparity between Donato’s ‘type’ and Mr. Yasuhisa… It couldn’t be a coincidence. She knew something Kaneki didn’t, and she wasn’t telling him.

But why? What wasn’t he supposed to know? Who exactly was he working with?

Who was Sen Takatsuki?

When she saw him shuffle in, she shot up from her seat. “Haise!” She rushed over. “Are you okay?”

“O-Oh, um, yeah.” He was on a slippery slope now; to trip would be to lose everything. “I-It was actually pretty alright…” He needed a plan. He needed—

She gripped either side of his shoulders. “Don’t you ever do that again. Okay?”

What? “What?”

“Donato is dangerous; he’s called the Priest because he was one, and that means he has all the skills that come with it! What you did was stupid and reckless and— and pointless!” She was scowling at him, but her eyes gently wavered. “There’s nothing wrong with a bit of risk-taking, but he doesn’t need a weapon to hurt you.”

Kaneki pursed his lips and looked away. “I-I’m sorry…”

Takatsuki paused, then sighed. “No, no, stop that; I’m sorry. I… got carried away, inviting you here, and I pressured you into doing something you clearly weren’t comfortable with.”

He shook his head and gave a small smile. “Well, we’re already on the other side of the fence, aren’t we?”

“I—!” She sighed again, a defeated smile on her face. “Alright, fine. You got me. Punk…”

He chuckled. “I’ll, uh, take that as a compliment.”

“Sure.” She took out her pen and clicked it a few times. “So, what did Donato tell you?”

Kaneki explained his conversation with Donato to her, but he left out the last part regarding his question and Donato’s answer. She kept her eyes glued to the notebook, taking notes in disquieting focus. She snapped it shut when she was done.

“Alright, be right back; I still have my own questions,” she said, and marched right back into the lion’s den.

Kaneki stared at her back as she disappeared behind the door. She had worried about him and apologized.

She… She cared about him. Him, Ken Kaneki. On some level. Oh, but of course she did. They were coworkers! Coworkers cared about each other. Stupid…

What was he thinking earlier? Donato was a serial killer who probably made his own fun by sending his visitors on wild goose chases. Kaneki, as a new face, was probably a rare opportunity to conjure up something different, especially with Donato’s apparent history with Takatsuki. He was just trying to turn Kaneki against her.

Well, it wouldn’t work.

Vengeance.

It wouldn’t.

———

“It’s rare for you to be so indecisive.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“You don’t want him to find out, yet you brought him here. Counterproductive, if you ask me; it’s new for you. Exciting, even.”

“You’re lecturing me about being counterproductive?”

“… We aren’t talking about me; we’re talking about you. What will you do if he finds out?”

“That’s not important.”

“I thought we promised not to lie in front of each other.”

“It wasn’t a lie.”

“Not to me, hm hm hm… Very well, if you will not tell, allow me to guess. You’re afraid of yourself, yet you want to be known. You want others to know what you are, yet you conceal the truth because you are afraid of being let go. And this boy… You want him, don’t you?”

“…”

“It’s so obvious it’s painful, even to someone like me. You’re so easy to attach yourself to someone who might not even understand you; I thought you would have learned by now. Pitiful.”

“… And what about you?”

“Hm?”

“What. About. You? I know you send Amon letters, and I know he doesn’t respond to you. Why would he? You’re the reason he was sent to yet another orphanage, irreversibly separated from his siblings. You’re the reason he has no father, and you will die as the reason. No matter how many times you get to see the sky, no matter how much you can appreciate that your children are looking at the same sight, you will never see them again. You will die alone and unloved, so really, the only thing pitiful here is you.”

“… There you are, •|».”

“Shut up. Now, about your ‘hirers’…”

———

To: Chie Hello, Chie. Can I ask a favor?

#blank canvas #fanfic #writing #and today's cameo is mr crown the clown himself #donato porpora #it's donato

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kitty-is-writing · 1 year

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Part 5 of Kitty's Pride Month shorts!

This is an older story I wrote for Ace Week a couple of years ago, about Vice-Chief Tironde of Astator. While she has always been comfortable with her identity, it hasn't been easy to explain it to some of her siblings. Here she attempts to get her point across to her polar opposite sister, Hinasi.

🖤🩶🤍💜

🖤🩶🤍💚

Light rain pattered against the windows, joining the soft crackle of the fire to make a soothing background noise. It was the sort of evening Tironde usually enjoyed, the perfect setting to grab a warm blanket, pick up a good book and spend time with her cat Lika. Both cat and book would have to wait this time, however, because her sister was arriving any second for a social call. She wondered how long she would have to endure the gossip and anecdotes about Hinasi’s latest bedmates before she could excuse herself without being rude. She loved her sister, as she did all her siblings, but she did wish Hinasi would be a little less talkative sometimes. Or, at least talk about something more interesting than her ever-changing love life.

The fanfare at the door signalled Hinasi’s arrival, and she sat up a little straighter. Hopefully this wouldn’t last too long. “My dear sister, such a pleasure to see you,” Hinasi said once the formal procession had finished.

“I’m always glad to welcome you here,” she said, waving to the staff member who had just brought in a tray of tea and snacks. “So, how have you been lately? I feel like it’s been forever since we last spoke.”

“Oh, I’ve been just fine. Enjoying the company of a very pleasant man, in fact he’s been a recurring visitor for almost a month now…” Tironde tuned it out slightly, only nodding in places and making vague noises. She knew Hinasi could go on in this vein for some time, as long as nobody interrupted, so it was safe for her to consider her library and imagine herself warm and comfortable in her favourite chair. There was a brief lull in the monologue, and Tironde had an awful feeling she knew what was coming. “So, what about you? Anyone new and exciting in your life?”

She held back a sigh with difficulty. “Just Lika, same as always. You know I’m not into all that, Hinasi.”

“Oh, pish. There must be someone you’re interested in. I noticed a very lovely lady among your guard, I’m sure she’d be happy to warm your bed. Or there’s that baker running the place in the town square, I notice he’s still single…”

“Let me stop you there. I’m aware there are some wonderful people around here, and I appreciate their contributions to Astator’s prosperity and do all I can to ensure their lives are happy and safe. I have no interest in bringing any of them to my bedchamber, and likely never will. I don’t know how many times I’ll have to tell you this.”

Hinasi shook her head, a slightly patronising smile on her face. “You’re not still hung up on that Palar, or whatever his name was? I know that was a bad relationship, but not everyone will be like that.”

“Palamir, and it wasn’t a bad relationship, we just wanted different things and couldn’t find enough common ground to make it work.” Most notably, he had wanted a lot of sex, and she found it extremely boring. “He’s doing exceptionally well with his carpentry lately, in fact. I had a new dining table commissioned from him just last week.”

“Oh, so you’re still interested in his wood?” Hinasi gave her a lewd wink. “I must admit, I always did admire the way he handled his tools.”

“He is a skilled artisan, and understands the medium well enough to get the best results possible…” The double meaning sank in after a few seconds. “Oh, Hinasi, do you have to make everything so crude?”

Hinasi snickered into her tea. “Well, you did leave that one wide open for me. Carpentry, honestly.”

What else was she supposed to have said? Palamir was a skilled carpenter, and she was proud her town had such a talented craftsman, so of course she was going to mention it if the subject came up. How did anyone get sexual innuendo from that? Was there any profession that her sister couldn’t turn into a dirty joke? “If you admire his skills with ‘wood’ so much, perhaps you’d like to pay him a visit while you’re here? I’m sure you can find the carpenters’ easily enough, the carved sign is hard to miss.”

Suddenly serious, Hinasi shook her head. “Not happening. You don’t date your siblings’ former partners, no matter how attractive and skilled they are.”

“That seems unfair. I can understand if a relationship ended badly, or if your sibling still has feelings for the person, but Palamir and I finished things amicably, and neither of us thinks of the other as more than an acquaintance. If you’re interested, and bored with your current lovers, I’m sure he’d be glad to meet you.”

“I have more than enough keeping me occupied in Bewein, and I don’t have to travel five days to see them if I fancy a bit of fun.” She waved off the suggestion. “Besides, we were talking about finding you someone. I have no shortage of interested partners, but you’re spending every night with your cat. Your position as Vice-Chief alone should have those seeking favours queueing at the door most nights, if nothing else, and you’re certainly attractive and personable enough that people would be interested in you for that. What are you doing to scare them all off?”

Tironde couldn’t suppress the sigh this time. “The people of Astator understand and respect my lack of interest in pleasures of the flesh.” Unlike you, she just kept herself from saying. “I do have the occasional visitor claiming they have magical genitals that can change my mind, but all of them leave disappointed when I refuse their advances. Honestly, I fail to understand the appeal of exchanging bodily fluids with another person. It seems a lot of effort for very little reward, and I get more enjoyment from reading a good book or spending time with a friend. Lika provides all the comfort I need at night, and doesn’t demand things from me that I’m uncomfortable giving. Why shouldn’t I live the way I’m happy living?”

“How can you be happy when you’re alone?” Hinasi seemed genuinely confused. “I know my choice to move between casual lovers isn’t for everyone, but there must be a match out there for you. Someone else who loves reading and cats, maybe?”

“I’m not alone, Hinasi. I have friends, I have five siblings who I love even when they’re frustrating the Hells out of me, I have a very affectionate pet, and I enjoy taking some time for myself on occasion. Not everyone needs to be surrounded by people to be happy.” She’d lost count of how many times she’d tried to explain this to one or the other of her siblings. Maybe this time it would sink in. “Having another person around all the time, sharing my entire life and expecting to be included in everything, would make me miserable. If I was unhappy with my life, don’t you think I would have done something to change it by now?”

Hinasi furrowed her brow, looking as if someone had just given her an impossible riddle to solve. “I suppose, but aren’t you even a little interested? Curious, at least? I don’t think you’ve ever been with a woman, maybe that’s more to your taste?”

She barely restrained herself from smacking her own forehead. “Hinasi. Listen carefully. I am not interested in men. I am not interested in women. I am not interested in anyone else, regardless of their gender. I find sex vaguely disgusting and incredibly tedious, and would rather have my eyes gouged out with a spoon than participate in it with anyone, whether casually, in a group, or as part of an exclusive relationship. There is nothing in the world that could induce me to do so, short of physical or magical force. If, by some miracle, a person with a similar attitude towards it and an understanding of my need for personal space came along, only then might I consider thinking about the possibility of discussing a hypothetical relationship with them. Please stop trying to push me into situations I am not comfortable with.”

“Alright, fair enough, but what about children? You’ll have to be with someone at least once to conceive, you know. It doesn’t happen by magic.”

“You’re assuming I want children, which I don’t. Aside from anything else, do you really think I’d make a good mother?” Tironde held up a hand to forestall the inevitable ‘biological clock’ argument. “Before you tell me I’m running out of time to reproduce, let me remind you that you’re four years older than me, sleep with anything that moves, and you don’t have a child either. Shouldn’t your clock be ticking louder than mine by now?”

Hinasi raised her hands, ducking her head in an exaggerated surrender. “Okay, I give in, I won’t pester you about this again. I just want my sister to be happy, that’s all.”

“I am, when I’m not being bugged about my imaginary love life.” She smiled, glad the little dispute hadn’t spoiled her sister’s visit. The conversation moved on to other topics then, until Hinasi and her retinue were shown to the guest rooms for the night. Tironde stood, carried the depleted tea tray back to the kitchens and headed for her own rooms, where her closest companion had been waiting all evening.

“Meeeooooow.” Lika lifted her head as the door opened, stretched, and let out a prolonged, complaining sort of meow.

Tironde sat beside her on the bed, scratching behind her ears. “I know, I’m usually snuggled up with you by now. Hinasi kept me talking longer than I thought she would, but never mind. What are we reading tonight, then?”

Lika made a little ‘prrp’ sound, jumped down and wandered over to the books, sniffing at the lower shelves. “Miaow.”

“You like the look of this one?” Tironde pulled out the book Lika had stopped by. It was an old one, a retelling of some of the tribal legends, and one she always enjoyed reading. “Good choice, Lika. Come on then, let’s get comfy and dive in.”

Moments later, they were snuggled in a nest of blankets, Lika purring madly as Tironde lost herself in the ancient stories. She could almost forget the real world existed, in moments like this. Others might feel a desire to share their special moments with another, and that was fine, but hers were hers alone, without a need for intrusion or interruption. Lika was more than enough company for her, and always would be.

#ace #ace pride #asexual #aroace #aromantic #aro pride #lgbtq+#lgbtqia #Kitty's short stories #short story #pride month #pride #aro

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fantasies-fairytales-n-fics · 1 year

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Thranduil and Josie Pt. 116- Cruel Intentions

Summary: Narcisse has dinner with Catherine that leaves him quite sick to his stomach. Legolas and Josie share a sweet moment. Garrett receives an unexpected and unwanted visitor. The enchanted sorcerous Raven is up to her dirty old magic tricks again. Garrett makes a huge mistake that will soon cost him the one thing he holds most dear.

*Warnings* SUPER DARK...Angst, mentions of animal death, violence, language, smut, strong sexual content

Stories Stories Stories Masterlist

Narcisse reluctantly entered his private dining chamber to find Catherine already seated, drinking her wine awaiting his arrival.

"So what is the meaning of this private dinner invitation in my quarters and so late at that?"

"I prefer to end the evening with a fine meal in my belly." she said with a smile and raised her glass to him as he sat down, unphased by her gesture and dug right into his steak that surprisingly tasted rather delicious compared to what his staff usually prepared.

"I appreciate the gesture, but there are many things here that need my attention."

"It seems you have everything here under control."

"I have led armies. Surely those skills count for something. Something more than just occupying you." Narcisse barked in frustration of his time being wasted.

"Perhaps your annoyance stems from not missing out on your duties but from missing your precious lady Josephine and being the grieving widow's hero, fighting her battles?"

Narcisse stopped chewing for a moment to look at her and then continued on.

"I thought we put that particular brand of jealousy to bed."

"I've been watching you Stephane." she said with a devious smile.

"Oh you mean you've been having me followed." he retorted.

"My spies, they saw you and Josephine at your...sanctuary.'

"That was weeks ago and it was nothing more than just tea and conversation on a nice day."

"And just today, you were seen embracing her, near feet from your chambers that I used to occupy with you, but now she sleeps in your bed." she snarled.

(Watch the short video clip of 2:19 below to see what happens or you'll miss out on some good stuff. I thought it was a great scene that should be seen and heard.)

Narcisse leaned on the table to take in what he just learned and encountered. This woman was of pure wickedness which is one of the reasons he was trying to rid of her, but it was no simple task to complete as no one leaves Catherine de Medici, and after the revelation of what Catherine had done to hurt him, he desperately worried for you. There was only one thing he could do to keep you safe from her jealous rage and it would hurt you deeply and possibly make you hate him, but that is the price he was willing to pay when it came to Catherine's wrath. For Narcisse, the fear was not to be hated by her, but to be loved by her.

You laid down on your bed, clutching your moonstone pendant in your hand and cried. To have it back meant everything to you for you now had another part of Thranduil, but what good would it do you without his ring. The two were connected as one, just as you and Thranduil, and each did not have the other. Although the stone had reacted to your touch, you still felt no powers inside of you. You should have been thrilled beyond measure for this gift, but instead, you felt hopeless, defeated.... and so hollow inside.

A knock came to the door.

"Josie...it is Legolas. May I...please come in?"

You looked at Lola and nodded.

As soon as he saw you, he knew something was wrong and came right to you, kneeling at your bedside.

"Josie...I...I had to see you...I do not have words for my behavior. I never meant to hurt you. Please tell me you believe that."

"I'm numb. I feel nothing right now, so it don't matter."

"Of course it matters. You matter to me and I am so sorry for..."

"Legolas, it's not you alright? It's...that."

You looked down at your hand the held the gem.

Legolas eyes widened and then they darted to yours.

"Your moonstone...where did you get this? Was it not in Mirkwood?"

"It was, yes. The crow, that's where he went...and he brought it to me tonight after I had just asked Thranduil for a sign that he was still with me."

You pushed your face into the pillow and began to cry. Legolas laid his hand on your face as he felt his heart break.

"He will always be with you and will always be a part of you as well. I know my words offer you no comfort but I do not know what else to do."

"You don't need to do anything. You lost him too. You shouldn't be trying to comfort me when you're hurting just as much."

"Yes I should. We can comfort each other."

"I haven't been doing a very good job of that have I? I've been selfish as if I am the only one you bears his loss....and even Haldir. They were best friends at one time and when Thranduil had lost his memory, believing that Haldir and him were still that close, that really did a number on them both when his memory returned....where is he? Is he alright?"

"Yes, he is sleeping off the wicked ale." Legolas said with a soft grin.

You lightly chuckled. "Well, I cannot blame either of you for trying to find a temporary escape. I will have to spend some time with Haldir and maybe you two could try being a little nicer to each other. We're all family."

All you could think of in that moment is what your disgusting mother did to Haldir and felt guilty for not being there for him because he certainly wasn't going to talk about it with anyone else. No one knew what happened but you, although you believed Thranduil did.

"You are right Josie. I will try to do better....in fact, I will go check on him when I leave. Try to get some rest if you can and...I am only across the hall. Please...if you need me, come to me. Pinky promise?"

This time you belted out a laugh.

"You remember that huh?"

"I have forgotten nothing you have taught me of your human life."

You raised your hand. "Ok, promise."

Legolas wrapped his hand around your wrist and with his other hand, he curled his little finger around yours, then smiled so sweetly.

"Goodnight Josie."

He stood up, then bent down and kissed your forehead as his palm laid upon your cheek. You stared at each other for a moment, then he smiled and left.

You sighed and kissed the moonstone, then closed your eyes wishing for a better day tomorrow.

Although Raven had told Thranduil she had people to visit, she only had one in mind as she landed on Devil's island. Garrett. She was taking one hell of a risk coming to see him when he hated her guts and could easily take her on with no effort in a battle, but he still had her heart, her one true love and King that she so desired... she had wished for a King like him with the spell she used but had went terribly wrong and delivered her Jareth instead. Definitely karma she supposed but now she planned on getting what she's always wanted, one way or another....and it would hurt you too. Killing two birds with one stone she figured and giggled.

She glided up to the roof and went in through a window that was ajar, then followed Garrett's scent to locate his chambers. It was the witching hour and she knew him and his clan would be out getting their dinner. Her plan was to surprise him when he returned, knowing he would be less grumpy on a full stomach which made him more manageable. She also knew he wasn't getting laid and that could also be a bonus for her if she played her cards right.

Raven found his bedroom and walked around studying his belongings. One thing that caught her eye were pictures pinned on the wall that appeared to be Garrett when he was a child. Garrett never spoke of that life to anyone, not even her. He didn't want to remember it so to see that he had photos and kept them out in the open blew her mind. The one with the guitar was interesting because he still played, so that was one thing he carried over with him in his rebirth. He tried to teach her when she was a child but she could never grasp it, nor was that of any interest to her. Back then, he cared about her and she believed he was trying to show her what it was like to be a child and not just a cold blooded killer. That was another thing Garrett took with him, his good heart, which is why he butted heads with her father, Craven, so much.

She then moved on to a bookcase filled with old hardbacks. Garrett used to read to her all the time, which that part stuck with her as she got older, but what else did she have to do while being locked away in Lestat's mausoleum for nine years. She missed those days, when she actually meant something to her G....but that all changed when he met and fell in love with you.

The next thing she saw left her frazzled. On the wall, over his bed was the painting Marius did of him that you asked him to do. She figured Marius must have brought it to Garrett way before the fire ever took place. She couldn't believe her eyes because she was there when Garrett first saw it and his reaction was none other than despair, which was what she had intended to happen. Garrett hated it, so why was it hanging in his bedroom?

As she moved on, boom! She was flung through the air and pinned up against the wall by her neck.

"Well well well, look what the cat dragged in. You are one useless dhampir. You should have smelled me coming. I picked up your foul stench at the bottom of the mountain." Garrett snarked as his eyes burned of fiery lava.

"G...let...me...go..." Raven coughed out as she gasped for air.

"And if I don't? What are you going to do about it? Set me on fire? You wouldn't do that to your good buddy G now would you Clover?"

"Whh...why n..not? You..have no..p..problem choking..m..me all the...f...fucking...time."

Garrett grinned and threw her to the ground.

"Old habits die hard."

"Now..you have three seconds to tell me what the fuck you are doing here before I finish what I started."

Raven cautiously stood up and regrouped herself.

"Jesus G, have you lost every bit of feelings you ever had for me? We used to be so tight."

"Every...single...ounce." he quipped.

"That's just cold."

"And that is what I am, am I not? Cold, dead and heartless....kinda like you." he said in a grizzly tone as he slowly walked towards her.

"No G, you're not! Remember?" she shouted as she became backed against a wall, then played on his human emotions. "This is not you. The real G is not a murderer."

Garrett bellowed in laughter. "Is this really how you are going to try to save your pathetic little life? You know damn well I don't care for you anymore and you also know damn well why. Remember??? I don't kill good people, only bad ones and everyone knows there isn't a good bone in your scrawny body. After what you have done to Josephine, I would snap your neck like a twig and feed you to the wargs piece by piece. or maybe just return you alive back to your ever so loving goblin King."

"NO!....Please...no. I...I can't go back there." Raven whimpered in fear.

Garrett tilted his head. "Well now, this is interesting. The fierce and heartless dhampir is truly scared. Now why would you ever fear Jareth? Tell me, what was your first clue Velma? I mean, you obviously must be blind as a bat to take up with a King who is deader than I'll ever be and by far, more evil than you. Can't get any worse than that."

"This is where Raven knew she had to do something to find Garrett's G spot, per se...his human side.

'Yes it can..." she snapped and ripped her shirt off, then turned her back to him.

Garrett's eyes widened...not from pity, but just plain shock at all the scars on her back.

"Please...please don't make me go back there. This is only one of the disgusting things he has done to me."

"Are you really attempting to make me feel sorry for you? You have brought all of this on yourself. Are you forgetting the disgusting things you do to others?? Karma is the only friend you have and even she hates your fucking guts...and why?? because you're just a shitty ass person with no soul."

Raven dropped to her knees and began to sob.

'Oh please...Get...up! You're making me sick and I just ate."

Raven jumped up and turned to him with her bare breasts in plain view.

"You know what it's like to be scarred! I have seen them! When I was a child...on your chest!" she shouted with a tear streaked face as she pointed at him. "So now who's a shitty person??"

"Don't play this game with me....and do not compare me to you....ever! You see, the difference between you and me on that aspect is that mine came from an accident. What's your excuse?? I'd like to hear how your scars were an accident too!"

"Wellll....um...because...because I conjured Jareth....by ACCIDENT...I...I was trying to stupidly find me a King like......like you."

Garrett stared at her for a few seconds and then burst into laughter. "Yep, karma most certainly and absolutely one hundred and fifty thousand percent hates you."

Raven began to huff through gritted teeth and her eyes glowed orange as she began to shake.

"Stop laughing at me!!!!"

She whipped her arm up and hurled Garrett against the wall.

"Ohhh, you shouldn't have done that." he sneered as he whisked back up, glaring her down, his red eyes now bursting at the seems for her blood.

He too whipped his arm out and sent her catapulting into his night stand, shattering the vase that you had thrown at him while practicing your magic.

Raven was stunned by the blow and Garrett was now beyond livid because he was saving that vase for sentimental reasons.

"Now look what you've gone and made me do!! This ends now!"

He began to grab a dagger to cut her heart out because he truly did not want to taste her wretched blood, when suddenly Raven spoke...but not in her voice....but yours.

"Garrett, it's me! please don't hurt me. You...love me, remember?"

His head spun to her so fast, his neck cracked.

Raven stood up and as she did, she morphed into you.

Garrett stumbled backwards and gasped. "You stop this right now! I know who you are you evil sadistic witch!"

"Well, if you know so much, why are standing there frozen?" she said as she walked towards him seductively, her breasts full and her nipples hard. "It is I...Josephine. Are you blind as a bat?" she giggled. "Garrett....I love you. Don't you love me too?"

"Stop! Don't you say that!" he shouted as he began to tremble.

"Why not? Isn't it what you have longed to hear? I love you Garrett. You are my true King. Take me Garrett, make me your Queen....right now."

Raven now stood before him and took his hand. "Touch me...then you'll know the truth."

She brought his hand up and placed it over her breast. He gasped heavily and couldn't move as his eyes turned to his human blue and filled with tears.

"J...Jos..Josephine?"

"Yes my love. It is me. Make love to me Garrett. I have waited so long for you. I need you. Please Garrett. Kiss me...." she said as she stretched her body up against him, begging for his lips.

He brought his shaking hand up to her cheek, almost afraid to touch her and desperately trying to focus.

"Here...let me help you."

She pulled his head down and planted a passionate kiss on his lips, then slowly slid her tongue into his mouth.

Garrett swiftly pushed her back with remembering eyes. "You....you taste like..."

"Like what baby?" she smiled with your smile.

That did it. He pushed her against the wall and kissed her hard and deep, grinding his full attention cock against her. She lifted her leg up his thigh and he grabbed it, then grabbed her other one and hoisted her up. She wrapped her legs around him and began thrusting against his cock.

"Now Garrett...I want you now!"

She tore at his belt buckle but couldn't get it undone.

"Move." he snapped as he jerked her hands away and aggressively unbuckled his belt. He put her down and yanked her pants to her ankles in which she quickly stepped out of. Garrett then lifted her back up and began slipping his pants down.

"That's it baby...fuck me G..."

Garrett halted as if he had been tased and stared at her, dead in the eyes.....then dropped her.

"You..." he snarled. "You repulsive parasite."

Both of his hands gripped her neck as he slowly lifted her off the ground.

"G...Garrett....n...no....d...don't." she sputtered as she kicked her legs. "It's me. Josephine!"

"Don't you speak her name! First and foremost, she is nothing, NOTHING like this, a bitch in heat....and second, I would never take her in such a manner. I would make LOVE to her."

Raven choked out a laugh. "Is that w...what you're c...calling it..n..now when the mm...manner you t...took her in b...before w..was against her w..will."

Garrett released her in shock of her statement and turned away.

"That...is not how it was!" he barked.

"Oh? Ohhhh, that's right. You poisoned her with your blood and made her want you, so that makes it legit?"

Garrett spun around so fast, Raven screamed and jumped back.

"You mean like you what you were just doing to me?! Poisoning me with your black magic, making me believe you were Josephine??"

"Oh stop being such a big baby G! She is never going to want you. The only way you would ever have her is to do the same thing to her all over again. She will always pine for that perfect King of hers which isn't you. You're nothing like him....but you're just like me. We are kindred spirits, don't you see that by now? I don't judge you like she and her entire little fucking elven clan do, even after what you do to me....I actually love you G!!....and I am here and I want you, no strings attached. Isn't that what you want? To be loved? You'll never be good enough for her and you know it. She will never get over Thranduil and if by any chance in the world, she ever did want you...you would always be second, never first in her heart, even with him dead and gone....she will NEVER love you..."

"Shut up!! Shut your mouth! I would rather live all of eternity than to ever be with you. You don't know a thing about love! In fact, you're not even capable of it. You killed children and have no remorse!! I am just an obsession of yours and you can't stand the fact that I do....not....want...you!!"

"Is that so? Then why is your cock still raging hard and what are you going to do about it? The usual? Rosy palm and her 5 sisters?" She quipped as she grabbed it over his pants. "God, G...just live a little and have some sex, nothing more. It will do you good because you're wound like a fucking top."

His nose was flaring as he breathed like he had ran a mile, then shoved her back against the wall, stripping his pants down.

"This means nothing." he reeled and spun her around so he didn't have to see her face. He spread her legs as she grinned from ear to ear, then thrusted into her.

"Ahhhh yes!!! Yes G....yes!!"

He slammed his hand on the wall and groaned as he slid into her fully, then began pumping her hard and deep, making her pant and scream with every inward stroke.

"That's it G, I...I'm almost there....keep...going..."

Garrett sped up with only the intention of his own release and he certainly wasn't going to do so inside of her. He began to unravel and withdrew before she could climax, expelling his fluid onto the floor as he grunted deeply through every vigorous pulse.

Raven spun around completely dumbfounded. "Garrett what the fuck?? I wasn't done...keep going! I need to finish too!"

"Finish by yourself." he smugly smirked.

"You ASSHOLE!" Raven screamed and whipped him hard across the room into a pillar, knocking him out cold.

She stood over him, glowering down. "I suppose it's better this way because I am sure you would have tried to kill me afterwards anyways....and unfortunately, I do have to go back to hell on earth before Jareth knows I am gone. You'll pay for this G....soon."

She knelt down, kissed his lips, then dressed and took off, purposely leaving something behind.

One thing Garrett wasn't thinking of during his bout of pleasure was the fact of his blood that's in you, which he had reminded you of during his last visit with you. It was how he entered your dream and fended off Jadis....but it also meant you had access to his mind as well....and his thoughts of you had been loud and clear during his play time.

As the sun was rising, you awoke in a panic, calling out only one word.

"Garrett!"

@redeemer46

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ihatecoconut · 1 year

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Miranda

Also available on AO3!

To say that there was outcry when Unity Kincaid was discovered to be pregnant would be… untrue. There was horror, definitely, and whispered fears among the female staff on the Encephalitis lethargica ward and there was a quickly created divide between them and the men who did rounds. But outcry? Not so much, it was covered up, very fast, hidden even from Unity’s aging parents who did not need to know that the hospital they had placed their trust in had failed to keep their daughter safe.

Desire watched it all go down. They had assumed the form of a female nurse and sat, in the break room, listening to some of the others sob, and didn’t quite regret their actions.

“We have to do tests on the other female patients.” One of the nurses whispered, once. Her name was Emma and she had been on the ward for as long as the sickness had been around, originally as a visitor to her brother and later as a trained nurse.

Quiet vials of blood were taken, sent to the labs, and checked.

All came back negative.

The women on the ward sighed a collective sigh of relief. Desire curled up next to Unity’s bed and watched her stomach slowly swell.

(Desire sat next to their wife and listened to her excitedly talk about names for their baby, watched as she tried and failed at knitting little boots, laughed with her and secretly went out to buy some from a woman in the waking world.)

The mistrust on the ward never settled, especially not after several of the men asked to ‘help’ when Unity went into labour.

Using to power of the nurses that wanted those men to be hurt, to regret their choices, Desire sent them miserable things. If they called in one or two favours to their twin, well that was between the two of them.

They sat at Unity’s side, held her hand, pushed her shoulders back down when she tried to move, to writhe away from the pain, and wiped the sweat away from her brow.

(Desire held their wife’s hand, stroked her hair, whispered encouragement and jokes to help her, promised that they would get through it together.

“If we’re doing this together,” Unity gasped out at one point, “you can carry the next one.”

Desire pressed a kiss to her forehead and ignored the aching want inside them. “Whatever you want, my love.”)

Imbued with the power of an Endless, the baby girl came out shockingly healthy and with an incredible set of lungs. The women gathered around Unity cried, laughed, whispered promises that she was done.

Desire ached with the need to reach out and hold their child.

(Desire leaned in to their wife, peering down at the tiny baby that blinked up at the two of them, so unaware of how angry her waking counterpart was.

“Oh, she’s beautiful,” Unity whispered, stroking over the tiny fingers that stretched, confused.

“Looks just like you.” Desire replied, reaching around to cradle them both close.

Unity laughed, “Flatterer.”

“What do you want to call her?”)

“It’s a girl,” the nurse said, wrapping her efficiently in swaddling cloth.

“She needs a name.” One of the others said.

“Oh, don’t be ridiculous, the orphanage can name her.”

(“Miranda,” Unity said, thoughtful. “I’ve always liked that name.”

Despite everything, Desire smiles, “Hello Miranda.”)

“What about Miranda?” They say, before they can stop themself. “Just a basic name.”

One of the nurses – Desire never bothered to learn her name – softens slightly, as if she can see straight through Desire. “Sure, we can suggest Miranda.”

Another squeezes their shoulder. “She’ll be in good hands at the orphanage, she’ll find a nice family.”

Desire doesn’t say that she has a nice family, just nods, rises, and walks away. They can leave this place now, they’ve done what they needed to do and set the downfall of their brother into motion.

Still, they stay three more weeks to make sure Unity recovers.

#sandman #the sandman #sandman comics #sandman fanfiction #sandman fandom #desire of the endless #unity kincaid #miranda walker #miranda kincaid #writer #writing #my writing #writers #writblr #writeblr #writers of tumblr #write #fanfiction

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nancypullen · 1 year

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Thursday

Hey there! Remember me? I disappeared for a few days, but here we are again - get comfy, we’ll chat. Yesterday we climbed out of our rut (honestly, it’s a lovely rut) and pointed the car toward the mighty Atlantic Ocean. We decided to see what all the fuss is about Rehobeth Beach, and also to find a particular bookstore where David Sedaris will be signing on May 30th (we have tickets and I’m excited!). Rehobeth Beach is 48 miles from Denton, and it was a beautiful day for a drive - so off we went. I get it now. Wide beaches of clean sand, clear water, and a boardwalk that rivals any I’ve ever seen. Restaurants, arcades, and the shops, oh my, the shops! Did I take photos? Not many. I’ll have to raid whatever the mister snapped. I was too busy poking around in alleys like this.

Hundreds and hundreds of unique shops, really diverse dining options, and everything from scooter rentals to paddleboards. I knew exactly where we’d be having lunch when I saw this spot.

Go Fish, a true British fish & chips place. Mickey is a sucker for fish & chips. Me, not so much, but I figured there’d be something else on the menu. It was charming inside and The Beatles were playing on the sound system. All good signs.

We sat in a booth and thoroughly enjoyed our lunch. Mickey raved about the fish & chips and I had a hearty plate of bangers and mash. It made me glad I’d skipped breakfast.

After lunch we strolled down the main drag and found the bookstore, BrowseAbout Books. What a delightful store! Super friendly staff, eager with recommendations, an amazing inventory (even a wonderful children’s section), home decor, cards, tees, etc. I love a good independent bookstore.

They truly offer something for everyone. So we checked that off our list and we’ll be back there on May 30th.

The ticket includes a cop of the book, which I already have, so I’ll just have him sign my copy for Matt. Matt and I went to see David Sedaris in Nashville many years ago and had a ball. We gave him a rubber hand to sign. It made him laugh. If you know, you know. If you don’t, read this. https://www.newyorker.com/magazine/2003/03/10/whos-the-chef Anywayyyy, after exiting BrowseAbout Books we walked around, visited a few more shops, got a sweet treat (ice cream cone for Mickey, caramel popcorn for me) and headed home. The road west is lined with shopping opportunities and I asked the mister to pull into Home Goods. It’s my church and I’ve been missing services. I needed to fill my soul. And I did. It didn’t take much. I bought three small things.

A small picture frame to hold a sweet photo of Little Miss.

This adorable little bird who will keep me company in my spot on the porch.

There she is by the flowers, looking ready to burst into song.

And finally, these pretty bells to sway in the breeze - also for my spot.

A whole bag of happy for just $30. Did I need to spend it? No. DO these things make me smile and lift my heart? Absolutely yes. Some women drink wine, some spend a fortune on hair and nails, I buy birds and shiny things.

Speaking of birds, they love the new fence. I swear, our feathered visitors have increased since we put the fence up. The local cats can’t hide as well, so maybe they feel safer. Any way you slice it, I have more bird song and a prettier yard. Winning!

I took three of the containers that I normally use on porch railings and put them on the fence. I love it.

Feeders, a bath, and blooms. It’s birdie paradise. I’ll probably add some pink or red flowers to those containers, but I like them just fine so far. Stanley still stops by for a drink. I think he loves cool water with just a hint of bird butt.

Time to weedeat. So there ya’ have it, a little bit of happy from our patch to yours. I’m going to make a little lunch and go sit in my spot on the porch. It’s a good day for doing nothing. Sending out love. Stay safe, stay well. XOXO - Nancy

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dollypardonne · 10 months

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midnight hospitals, early dawn rooftops.

trigger warnings: implication of ideation and attempts

it's those moments before crying, when your breath gets shallow and you feel your eyes burn from holding it back. your heart leaps like it wants to burst open your chest and your lips quiver with every gasp for air, then the waterworks follow after despite how much effort you've made in suppressing them. it happens a lot that these sensations have become innate to me.

after a good cry, i'm journalling all my heartache today. but i write, and write, and write. it never seems to be enough.

yesterday i fell down in the middle of my aerial pilates routine and incurred an injury under my eye. it's not a huge one so i managed to go about my day just wearing a bandage over it. but then i kept feeling some tenderness in my lower back. i ignored it for as long as i could because there was so much work to be done. there is a lot that i still have to do, and it's regretful that i'm wasting it away here at the hospital. but my mum kept insisting that i get it checked, because i was incessantly protesting about it. i hadn't even realised how much i talked about it. part of me wishes i didn't, because i was admitted that same night and i spent the dead of it wallowing in my sorrow.

i don't hate hospitals. ending up in these halls so often, everything has become familiar. honestly, getting admitted is almost always like a retreat. no decisions apart from medical ones, a lot of them i personally don't have to worry about. no work deadlines, no housework—though i do miss my babies kai and kuma. three meals, clean sheets, and a call bell. attention only takes a push of a button for an anxiety-ridden person like me. what i dislike is when i start to form an attachment to this kind of medical attention. when i'm here, i'm safe and cared for. sometimes i even make friends.

once i met another patient whose heart would beat irregularly. i'd say i can't remember what the illness was called but now that i think about it, i was never told nor did i ever ask. she would hoard food in her night table; food that she'd stolen off her roommates' trays. at some point, she had bugs in the room that she'd been moved to because of her food spoiling in the drawer. she was a difficult person but i thought it was something we had in common, just in a different sense.

she wore see through nighties, no underwear, not even a robe. she would walk in the halls just like that. i thought it was funny. the staff thought otherwise. she never had any visitors during her stay that i was around for either. i remember every resident sighing in relief the moment she got discharged. i felt bad and i expressed that to one of them, only for them to say she'll show up again and i have nothing to feel sorry for. they continued on to tell me that her condition was self-induced. what was it called? marchartsen? manchansin? manchester syndrome. something like that.

i started to wonder if i had that, too. with how much i frequented, i almost feel like i'm making it all up, that there's nothing really wrong with me, and somehow everyone's just validating me because they're scared of what i'd do to myself. i'm scared of what i'd do to myself. it's not really easy being in my head. one could argue others have it worse, like my old friend. but maybe that's why i sympathised as much as i did.

these copious amounts of thinking had my head spinning. my hands started getting numb, then my legs, then the rest of my body followed suit. i could feel a sting creeping up my cheeks and swallowing my ears right after. it was unbearable and the thought of me becoming paralysed had me respiring. i couldn't hear anything else but those audible breaths and the rapid beating of my heart. that loss of control, this great fear of mine. i know it's just a hitch. i know it's all supposed to pass and i just have to ride it out. but in those moments of struggle, i'd always feel desperate.

and this time, i was desperate enough to make it stop and my unsound mind could only come up with one quick fix. one that didn't need the press of a button. one that didn't need anyone's assistance. and if this is how i go, i'd be at peace with that; not bothering someone for once in my life—my life where i abundantly convinced myself that i was self-sufficient.

conveniently, it was early morning. rooftop doors aren't usually kept open in places like these, so seeing it unlocked—unbolted—i took that as a sign. maybe this is something that i have to do. maybe finally, i can be free from this constant ache in my chest, free from these intense fluctuations in my emotions, free from this all-consuming pain.

but i figured the odds of seeing someone else beat me to getting there was unsurprisingly high. it was someone familiar, in fact. no, not the friend i'd been talking about. just someone who would visit you in your dreams. she didn't even look like a patient, or i doubt she could have been, considering she was garbed in full black clothing. she looked formal and professional, uptight even. she never once looked at me in the eyes or even turned to see who i was. i just remember she spoke in tongues. i couldn't tell you what she said exactly even if i tried. i was spiraling mentally, i'll blame it on that. but the confusion took over that overwhelming swirl. it sobered me up, i think.

now i'm here, wondering how i'd gotten so close and backed out once again. maybe that person, whoever it was—maybe she was my savior.

#voiceover: jennie #tw #cw #drabble: jennie

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