#yet they both see themselves as ghosts of their old selves just left of this earth to fulfil one last task

[muninnhuginn]

Characters who've shed their old selves, taken on new identities to hide, but are always oh so aware of who they once were. Trying to divide themselves into a clear Before and an After, which leaves them unable to recognise themselves as a culmination of their past and their present. They can only look at themselves through distorted reflections. They try to distance themselves from others, to remain undiscovered and unknown, but always make connections regardless. Relationships with those who know them beyond their current persona, who can see which aspects of old and new are true when they themselves cannot.

#was having thoughts on how mei changsu idealises lin shu and wishes he could return. for all his schemes and success he sees mcs as weak. #whilst li lianhua loathes li xiangyi and refuses to give his past self any allowances. and llh deliberately sets himself apart from lxy #yet they both see themselves as ghosts of their old selves just left of this earth to fulfil one last task #and they both refuse to recognise that their mental compartmentalisation of their selves is a form of denial #that shields them from having to acknowledge that who they are now has changed but some aspects still remain regardless #and they use the compartmentalisation to hate themselves safely without getting (as) called out on it #(I could be so wild and add wu liuqi to this but hey at least in his case he has amnesia as an excuse at the start)

[slightly-gay-pogohammer]

so i keep seeing homestuck mentioned. im gonna ask. what is homestuck??????? (like ik its a web series and was popular in uhhhh the 2010's but aside from the candy corn horns idk anything else. something about a hive swap? idk man help me out gio

Homestuck is a story of a kid and his friends and a game they play together :)

and oh man i can't believe i googled this pic in the year of the lord 2022 but. alas.

yes this is going under read more

OKAY FIRST OF ALL TECHNICALLY SPEAKING?

it's a webcomic except not really. the way it's written is heavily based on old text-based adventure games, with a few panels with art and everything else written underneath, either from the point of view of a narrator or with chatlogues/dialogues of the main characters the comic also has some animation (or "flashes"), some occasional minigames and RPG-like games and songs, some of which made by toby fox

and yes i'd argue that a lot of things in HS aged poorly or weren't well written from the very start but the songs are literally all bangers. like even if you don't follow homestuck i cant not recommend the songs a LOT of stuff was really a product of its time too. like there's a lot of lolrandom humor, occasional jokes that would likely not fly rn that while can be excused with "these are 13 years olds and also like all them is canonically dealing with internalized homophobia, undiagnosed mental health issues or both" some parts really aged like milk

the entire plot is divided in 7 acts, with sub-acts and intermissions between each one of them to "divide" the story in chapters. like the first one is all "outside" the game the, the second introduces more characters, act 5 is the best one, act 7 is only the final flash to conclude the entire story

...and yes okay the story is, again, about a kid and his friends and a game they play together. basically on the 13th of April 2009 best boy John becomes 13 years old and recieves a game to play with his pals. It's a game that literally alters reality and that, once an item in the game is activated, summons a meteor. just roll with it this is how this universe works. "oh the gang needs to save the world then?" nah lmao the world is literally doomed their goal is to reach worlds spawned from the game, become gods, defeat the final boss and create a new universe

of course however things dont go as planned :)

all of this is explained approximately 1% into the whole story by the way

other than this, the kids are also dealing with a bunch of trolls from another world (the candy corn zodiac dudes), a bunch of NPCs from the game, alternate timelines, the literal goddamn author and lots and lots of death. Like HS is kinda infamous for killing of characters left and right. It has it's own set of rules to keep most of them relevant, like introducing ghosts, "dream" selves, the alternate timelines (Dave especially is SUCH a fun time he gets time-related powers and he gets to see SO many version of him dying :) ) or the whole way death works once the characters become gods, in which they can die only if their death is "just" (so if they were fucked up and evil and their death was justified") or "heroic" (so if they sacrifice themselves to protect someone, basically)

and. yes again homestuck isn't a story to take lightly, reading it requires a LOT of critical thinking, but it honestly has some of the best written kid protagonists I've ever read? Like with some duds of course *cough*gamzee*cough*act6vriska*cough*calliope*cough*, but most of them are really well fleshed out, with lots of flaws and good qualities, funny as hell, and for most of them their traumas and problems are integral part of their character growth - and yes while you get kind of used to see them die over and over have some of them Actually Die is. genuinely shocking and hurts so much?

like again shoutout to Dave but also Karkat because they start off as the "cool kid" and "angry kid" tropes and yet they get so much growth, learning to understand their limits and rationalizing traumas from the past. like the very last scene we get with Dave before the final battle is one of the best written pieces of media I've ever read

..........................................you just need to kind of. First of all pull a death of the author since they're kind of a douchebag and also remember that this started in 2009, likely with no intentions of making it a story as big as it ended up being. I don't think I would recommend HS to someone who "wasn't there" not for gatekeeping but specifically because. It's a product of it's time, and I think that if you finish Act 1 (in which basically nothing important happens, if not putting down the bases of the general tone) and aren't into it you likely won't likei t even when it gets so much better since

yes it's a story with very serious topics that WILL take seriously it's characters, but it's also a story that not only would drop everything from a page to another because the author decided to commit character assassination for his fav but. also one of the plot points is that the main villain of the first half went on a murder spree because he didn't want to dress like a clown. one of the plot points is that insane clown posse and guy fieri became presidents. one of the plot points is that the author has a crush on dante basco and rufio from "hook" is mentioned so many goddamn times. a plot point has buckets being used for reproduction. this is a canon line.

so is this one

and also it's a shame that they didn't do anything else afterwards :) that there is no hiveswap even if the kickstarter literally broke a lot of records :) that there is no epilogue :) that there is no sequel :) friendsim can stay but it's on thin fucking ice

TL;DR: homestuck is the most webcomic ever and also the ending was fine you guys are just mean

#gio replies #homestuck #you activated my trap card

[blacknailpolishonguitarstrings]

From Above

Magic was a very interesting thing. Powerful but fickle. Healing and caring in the right hands, yet wicked and deadly in the wrong ones. Dangerous. Magic was convenient, but used to its full potential only by a select few, and more often than not, by the ones in the wrong rather than by the deserving ones. As such, magic held many secrets that had yet to be discovered. Amongst those many unexplored areas, ghosts and death were some of the most obscure branches of magic. Wizards and witches knew next to nothing about the Afterlife. Ghosts were the imprints of departed souls, and could of course stay in the world of the living if they wished to do so, but they were forever attached to one place. What no one knew, or at least, remembered, was that if one poured enough emotion into the remembrance of a certain deceased person, their soul would be able to perceive what was happening in the world of the living at that precise moment. The souls of the dead had constant access to their past, of course, they were capable of thoughts and feelings, and they could see what was happening to everything and everyone in the world of the living, but as time passed, that connection grew feebler and feebler. The Dead distanced themselves from the Living more and more the longer they were gone, drifting further away from that thin barrier of Reality, and only a strong emotional connection could bring them back. That is how James and Lily Potter found their old friend Remus Lupin at their grave.

“James,” said Lily softly, resting a hand on her husband’s shoulder.

The logistics behind their ability to touch and feel each other were still unbeknownst and confusing to her, yet they were both ever so glad for it. Being dead…well it wasn’t fun. You merely existed. A lone, wandering soul. Yes, one was able to see the world and witness just about anything they wished, but that connection was unstable and weak at best. Both Lily and James felt themselves slipping away a tiny bit more with each day that passed, and it was an underlying knowledge, a cold hard truth, that someday they would simply cease to exist and fade into nothingness. But for now, they held on, with every bit of strength left in them to the real world. They had the urgent need to stay “alive” as best as they could, given their condition, for Harry, the son they would never see grow up, for Remus, their best friend, who was all alone now, and for Sirius, the one person who was slowly but surely getting dreadfully closer to James and Lily with every minute he spent in that cell, isolated, lost, in pain.

“What is it, love?” Asked James, looking up from the concert taking place in a small pub in London he was watching.

“Look, over there,” replied Lily, pointing into the far distance.

The world stretched beneath them like a small map they could observe closer whenever they felt like it, skipping from place to place in a matter of seconds. In the direction Lily was pointing towards, a grey, cold, graveyard stood in the middle of a town, namely, Godric’s Hollow. And among the marble tombstones, a lone figure kneeled in front of two joint headstones which shone bright and white in the evening, brand new, adorned with wreaths of white lilies.

Remus Lupin. In front of their graves. Behind her, James gasped.

“It’s him, isn’t it?” He whispered, already knowing the answer.

“I think so…James, do you feel it? The connection?”

“Yeah, I think I do, it’s almost as if he were…pulling us in.”

Suddenly, they found themselves right above the graveyard, with a direct on-look on it.

“I…I feel close to him, I think his magic is calling us towards him or something. Merlin, this is so strange, how does this even work?” Said Lily, puzzled and slightly frustrated.

“I’m afraid I don’t know much more than you. It must be some form of ancient magic, or maybe Death magic, who knows…in any case nothing we were taught at Hogwarts,” answered James thoughtfully.

His wife nodded in agreement, remaining quiet as she watched her best friend below her. Remus’ shoulders were sagging under an invisible pressure, it appeared as if he would sink into the ground on which he was kneeling at any given second. His hands were hidden in the depth of his old, brown, worn-out coat’s pockets.

“They’re probably balled into fists,” thought Lily knowingly.

Oddly enough he wasn’t crying, and he did not look particularly afflicted. On the contrary, he seemed…numb. He was just there. With no purpose, no emotions, no hysterics, no cries, nothing, he was just there.

“I wish we could talk to him, or at least know what’s going on in his mind,” said James abruptly, interrupting her train of thought.

At that precise moment, Remus pulled out his wand and waved it briefly over the headstones. The fresh flowers on the two graves disappeared in small puffs of sparkles, telltale signs of magic, which hung around fleetingly in the air before vanishing as well. He waved his wand again, and several dark green sprouts spurted from its tip, softly dropping to the ground, small roots snaking into the mushy earth. The plants began to grow in size, intertwining until they formed a complex woven arch of spikes and leaves stretching across the two graves. Here and there, pearlescent white flowers bloomed. White roses.

“He remembers,” murmured Lily, tears welling up in her non-existent eyes, pricking her skin, sliding down her cheeks.

“Oh, love, of course, he does. Besides, those lilies were truly atrocious,” James laughed, but through the rumble of his chuckles, Lily could hear the affliction and the sorrow, thick and overwhelming.

She sighed, hugging him.

“If only we could communicate somehow,” she repeated her husband’s words.

There was another curious thing about magic: it had the uncanny knack to listen to one’s feelings, and sometimes, it was lenient and amalgamated. That is how Lily and James found themselves right next to Remus, still invisible, still unperceived, but there nonetheless, with him, instead of above him. They were both too troubled to think about the trick behind it, and for a fleeting moment, it felt as if they were real again. If Lily hadn’t known any better, she would have sworn she felt the chilly autumn wind whisper through her formerly auburn hair, she would have sworn she felt the gravel crunch and roll under her feet, she would have sworn she felt her tears slide down her cheeks and freeze on her clammy skin right before they tipped past her chin, and she would have sworn she felt the texture of Remus’ wool coat under her hand as she placed it longingly on his shoulder, heat radiating from him under her palm. But she knew it was nothing more than a mere wish, sometimes she even wondered if she ever truly felt James’ touch, or if it was yet another fragment of her imagination, a shard of her shattered past. Neither of them was sure anymore, if they still resembled their former selves and had a partly physical form or if they were simple spirits, shadows of people, slivers of energy.

Lily and James stood there for long minutes beside their friend, quiet, not daring to move, just watching him, being there with him. Lily would have given anything to know what was going on in his mind, but he remained silent. Finally, as the last few pale rays of sunlight tinted the grey sky a light golden before being swallowed by the night’s shadows, a hoarse whisper escaped his lips:

“I miss you…I…I’m so alone now and I don’t know what to do.”

His head hung low, dull chestnut curls hiding his face, but Lily could tell he was crying by the slight shake of his shoulders. Her heart tightened, clenched by pain, that is if it still existed somewhere.

“I don’t want to do this anymore,” he continued with more vehemence. “I don’t want to live like this anymore!”

Remus had almost shouted the last few words and looked as if he were about to say something else when the sudden crack of Apparition cut him off. Albus Dumbledore appeared between the gravestones, dressed in dark blue robes, looking tired, eyes wary.

“Remus, I assumed I would find you here. I am very sorry but I must interrupt your mourning, there is an urgent matter I must discuss with you. Will you—“

“Professor,” interrupted Remus, finally looking up.

His eyes were puffy and red, and ill-defined traces of tears lined his hollow, bony cheeks. Lily couldn’t help worriedly noticing how much thinner he had gotten, bones pocking out from beneath his coat.

“Do you believe Black killed James and Lily and Peter?”

Next to her, James flinched at the question; Remus hadn’t called Sirius by his last name in years.

“I…I am afraid all the evidence point to that, nothing is indicating otherwise,” answered Dumbledore quietly but resolutely.

“NO!” Vociferated James. “SIRIUS DID NOT KILL US, PETER, THAT TREACHEROUS RAT DID! SIRIUS WOULD NEVER DO ANYTHING LIKE THIS! HE IS MY BROTHER! HE ISN’T CAPABLE OF MURDERING ANOTHER HUMAN BEING!”

“James! James! They can’t hear you, my love, as unjust as this is there is nothing we can do!” Said Lily sadly, attempting to calm her husband down, yet her voice shook with contained fury.

Remus said nothing for a while, looking pensively into the distance, watching as the sun finally set, but something in his gaze had hardened.

“So he killed them,” he declared at last. “Black killed his best friends, those who gave him everything, and he abandoned me and betrayed me too…”

“No! Remus! Listen, it’s false! It’s not what it looks like! Dammit, Remus, listen to me!” Begged James desperately, trying to grasp his friend’s shoulders, but his hand went right through him, slicing through the air.

“He killed them,” repeated Remus bitterly. “I guess the Black in him won, after all, joined Voldemort, didn’t he?”

“I suppose so, yes,” nodded Dumbledore.

The words hit Lily like a punch in the gut as James sunk with a defeated and miserable sigh next to her.

“Old fool,” he mumbled.

#marauders fanfiction #James and lily are dead #jily #albus dumbledore #remus lupin #remus lupin fanfiction

[melissanovels]

♡ Chapter 5 of TRANSIENT TIME TRAVELLER is out! ♡

○ Read on my Website ○ Read on Tumblr (below) ○ Read on Ao3 ○ Read on Royal Road  ○

TTT  is an LGBTQ+ historical fantasy novel about Aida, a time traveller hellbent on proving the innocence of a 1,200-year-old dead queen, and Lorian, an escaped princess-turned-officer who wants to drain the royal blood from their body, & the two coming together with the help of their mischievous future selves.

♡ Reblogs are appreciated! ♡

Read Chapter 5 Below:

As Lorian walked into an empty classroom and waited for Aida and Mister Omar to leave, she pressed her back into the door and utterly lost it.

She covered her mouth with her gloved hands. She’d done it. She’d finally talked to Aida again. And she hadn’t been so crass as she’d been when they’d first met. The first time had been a complete disaster. With Aida being naked and Lorian open-mouthed staring at her, the curves of her wide hips and ass, her breasts, her face, her eyes. God help her, she’d never seen a woman’s body so openly before. All she’d wanted to do that night was slam her down into bed and do unspeakable things to her, yet what had Aida wanted? To talk about fantasy novels and a queen who’d been dead for 1,200 years. What had Lorian even said that’d led her up to Aida’s bedroom? She’d need to write it down for reference.

Despite being betrothed for more than half of her life, Lorian hadn’t a clue how courting worked. The girls she’d met in the palace were diplomatic and groomed to please her, all peachy smiles and saying whatever they needed to make her happy. She’d tried to court an Aldaían knight a few years back, but she’d only earned her name and her preference of cakes before they’d parted ways.

Aida’s attitude was so defiant, so cheeky and unbecoming that it would’ve sent Lorian’s father into hysterics. She wanted her. She wanted to crack her open and explore her mind and passions and give it back to her a ten-thousand fold.

Lorian dragged her hands down her face. Maybe she’d buy her a history book, really push more into the things she loved, or maybe a ticket to En Tempore Rose. The official one, the one that played in the Colosseum. She’d have to schedule a trip to the city center. She’d wear a cloak.

After she heard Aida run off somewhere, Lorian re-entered the library and backtracked for the books Aida had put away. They were old and leather-bound, with yellow pages that smelled of mothballs: History of Roma: From the Perspective of King Julius II to His People and Hidden Dangers of Visatorre in Roman History.

Lorian put that last one back. Aida was brave to read about history that was so rarely taught in class. Lorian had secretly read about it behind Missus’ Sharma’s back. She’d learned about the lost city-state of Siina and the belligerent queen who killed one of the dead kings, and how they killed and tortured those poor Visatorre people for sport soon afterwards as punishment. Thrown into the Colosseum with a pack of lions without any weapons with which to defend themselves. In this aisle alone, Lorian saw four other books detailing what a plight the Visatorre were to other people not blessed with the ability to travel through time.

She believed. The power to go back in time, acting as a ghost to witness history in the raw way it was intended, only to come back and harbor the pains of going backwards. She’d never understand their full pain, she could only educate herself and hope that that injustice would never happen again in her history.

After skimming through more of Aida’s books and realizing how little of it she retained, Lorian picked up the shortest read and went near the windows for light.

She got to page ten, most of which was a glorified chapter about how great the Roman kings were and are, when she heard someone call her name.

“Lorian, you fuck!”

Between the library and the writing hall was a strip of muddy grass. It was a shortcut between the buildings for her and other officers to travel. Two of them were there, calling for her: Alessio and Matteo, the two assholes she’d befriended that month.

“There he is, little bugger,” Alessio said, catching Lorian’s profile from the window. He climbed onto a rock wall to get closer. “Get out of there and come down. Lunch’s almost over!”

“Alright, alright,” she said, and slotted the book for later.

They were good boys, these two. She liked them enough to hang out with them while not on duty. They didn’t know this, and they never would, but she’d actually known them back at the palace. All officers-in-training had to go through a mandatory training program held by a Constable. Lorian had always favored officers for their rowdiness. She’d watch them work out in secret, sneak peeks at their naked bodies when they’d change. When she’d found that both Alessio and Matteo were working as security details at this academy, her decision had been made. A few faked letters of recommendation and her crafty ability to lie through her teeth and she was enrolled as an officer-in-training in a week.

They’d never known it was her as she paraded around as a young, unfavorable princess with incredibly long hair wearing the dresses she loathed, but she liked to tease them every now again with knowledge she shouldn’t have known.

“Hey, Alessio, have you ever been persuaded to eat worms?”

“Matteo, didn’t you pee yourself after seeing a real lion in captivity?”

“Have you two ever kissed on a dare?”

She’d lied to them, calling herself a good guesser.

She walked out of the library and turned the corner to find her boys, but they weren’t there. The yard was quiet; she heard the teachers writing on the chalkboard from the writing rooms.

She stilled her steps. From her knowledge, she knew nobody could truly vanish from the world for good. Something would always bring you back to where you were meant to be.

A twig snapped behind her, and she was put into a chokehold that stole away her breath. She could’ve gotten out of it easily, but she didn’t want to hurt who, from their laughing, she knew was Alessio. Alessio was a redhead with more power than Lorian believed him to have. Matteo, on the other hand, was softer, with dark, floppy hair and innocent eyes.

Laughing, Lorian took out her rapier and used the butt of the sword to knock the wind out of Alessio.

Alessio gagged and let her go. “Ow! You ass.”

“You attacked me.” She lightly kicked him for good measure. “What’re we doing now?”

“Late lunch,” Matteo said, and shared a loaf of bread. They weren’t students, but through their enlistment, they were given a dorm room that she shared with Alessio and Matteo and three simple meals ordained by their royal regimen. Sometimes, if they wooed the right girl or boy, they’d get sweets and even alcohol, something that was forbidden to officers. All three of them had already gotten drunk in that month alone.

They walked to their preferred eating space that the Academy cheekily called “The Defense Wall.” It separated the school from the villainous farmlands of lazy cows and stupid chickens. What used to be a formidable, three-meter tall fortress from a time period Aida probably knew about was now a blockage from the smelly farm animals that provided the school a portion of their eggs, milk, cheese, and occasional meat.

Lorian hopped atop an abandoned wagon of hay to scale the tall wall. Alessio followed her, and they needed to help Matteo make it due to his size. There, they shared their bread and butter and made horrible jokes for hours that, if any other officer heard them say, they would’ve had their hands whipped. Lorian had had her fair share of that back home and was keen not to get struck again for misbehaving.

As Lorian dined, Alessio asked her, “Why do you always spend your time in those libraries? You never read.”

It was true, Lorian wasn’t so much a learned soul as her mother and father pretended she was. She was a physical person who liked getting her hands dirty in order to understand something abstract. This had been her fourth trip to the library that week. The first attempt to find and talk to Aida had failed miserably and she was left hiding behind a bookshelf to spy on her. The other try and Aida hadn’t even been there. The girl kept Lorian on a leash and Lorian had no problem with that. “I do read. I know a great deal of things, much more than you do.”

“Then name two books you’ve loved over the past year. No, five authors, and no poets.”

“You try that. When’s the last time you ever picked up a book?” Lorian reached to pull on Alessio’s hair, but he jerked away and stuffed his mouth with his dry loaf end.

“That Miss spends her time there, doesn’t she?” Matteo asked. “That Aida girl.”

“The traveller?” Alessio asked. “She’s a weird one. I’ve talked with some of the girls in her class, and they say she’s really weird. I heard she’s gonna get the nix, you know?” He made a mark across his neck. “Cut out.”

“What do you mean?” Lorian asked.

“I heard it from my father, and he heard it from Constable Carmine. Word from the Lion is that he’s gonna bar those types of people from secondary education.”

Lorian’s ears heated up. “Carmine said that? And the king agreed to it? When?”

Alessio slowed his chewing at Lorian’s mention of Carmine’s name without his title. She had to stop doing that, being so informal about a man she shouldn’t have known so personally. “That’s just what I heard from my dad, so I think it’s true.”

Lorian rubbed her neck. She knew Carmine well enough to forgo titles when she’d address him in the palace, but after being promoted to Constable, she couldn’t say if this was something he’d enforce under the king’s orders or not. He’d exchange his heart for his duty.

But she wouldn’t have put this horrendous action past her father. He was the most racist, hurtful, selfish person she’d ever known, and she hated herself that parts of his speech and behaviors had sunk into her own bones. It took a great deal of unlearning to undo all of those negative stereotypes, and it took her finally leaving the house and joining the ranks to realize how real Visatorre people lived and how awful the world was to them.

“What’s to happen to her?” Matteo asked when they went silent.

“Dunno,” Alessio said. “Kick her out? There’s only a few of those people here, so it’s not like we’d notice right away.”

“But that’s not fair,” Lorian said. “She hasn’t done anything.”

“That’s not gonna stop them, you know that.”

“Then…I’ll stop them,” she promised, and tried mimicking how confident Aida sounded whenever she opened her mouth. “It’s not right. Do you know Miss Mirko uses a cane because of her illness—” She bit her cheek. “Uh, affliction. Can you imagine walking around with a cane at our age? It’s uncouth to belittle those who were born with advantages we weren’t given.”

Alessio pulled a face. “Don’t act high and mighty to me. This wasn’t my decision, I’m just the fucking messenger. And it’s not like we can change this.”

“Say I become a leading Constable, then,” Lorian argued. “I’d rewrite the rules to make them fair for everyone.”

“You wanna be a Constable?”

“Don’t you? Isn’t that the goal of being an officer, to one day be a Constable?”

“Eh, not really. Not for me, anyway. I just needed to get away from my mother, and this was the best option. To be a Constable means you have to put in ten, sometimes fifteen-hour-days and be on the king’s every beck and call. Thanks, but I’m good just being ordered around for simple things.”

“And I wanted to become stronger like my brothers are, but I don’t think I’m strong enough to do everything a Constable does,” Matteo said, and he looked across the field towards the water well. “Oh.”

Alessio and Lorian followed his intent gaze.

“Speak of the devil,” Alessio said.

Stomping down the fields, dress lifted to keep from stepping in cow droppings, was Aida on a mission. Her hands were bunched up in her dress, her teeth grit, and she was mumbling something to herself as her heels plowed through the dry mud. She’d lost her cane, shortening her steps.

Lorian brushed the crumbs off of her chest and stood up higher to better see her. She always walked with such determination, like she truly did not care how other people saw her. Lorian wanted to walk like that one day.

“Do you need a hand, Miss?” Alessio called out.

“Fuck off!” Aida yelled back.

Alessio tensed up. “What the fuck’s her problem?” he muttered.

“S-she isn’t allowed to talk to us like that,” Matteo said meekly. “What should we do?”

“We need to stop her. Hey—”

Lorian palmed Alessio’s chest, almost knocking him off completely before clutching his jacket and keeping him vertical.

“Ow! Lorian, what’s with you today?”

Lorian stared intently at Aida.

Silent tears were running down Aida’s cheeks as she walked. She wasn’t sobbing or weeping, the tears were simply there, though it was hard to tell why she was crying in the first place. It looked like she was off to kill somebody.

When she was out of sight and then some, Lorian got up, told her friends that she was thirsty, and secretly tailed Aida down her chosen path.

#Transient Time Traveller #art #original character #lgbtq #cottagecore #queer #aida #lorian #alessio #matteo #fantasy #original #original art #oc #novel #writing #ttt #royal road #ao3 #archive of our own #Alessio: >:OOO

[queensdivas]

Hidden Blade Chapter 1

Y’all I’ve been to excited for this because I loved this movie with a passion. (Nothing beats Bohrap btw but damn 6 Underground was awesome not just because of Ben. Though he really made the movie even better.) If you’d like to be tagged in future chapters please hmu! 

Please enjoy and I’ll see you guys in the next chapter or one of my updates. I’m on a train ride to London from Edinburgh so it’s about five hours. I plan on getting a crap done this ride so you might be seeing multiple updates! 

Enjoy! 

Next Chapter

Masterlist

Governments should always be in fear of who they govern over..those who are being governed should never be living in fear of who they are ruled over. Yet we live in a world where those in power abuse it badly so they can live the lavish life of the vices, greed, lust, and even the gluttony of having everything at their feet. Those who suffer under those sadly are living in a society in fear, hate, and uncertainty of whether they’ll be okay by the end of the day. 

That’s where I come in. 

You have to start somewhere small in order to cause a chain reaction. That lovely snowball effect. I start small by cutting off the suppliers resources, such as their plants, dirty shacks, and even the old warehouses. Once the resources are extinguished, I then move up to those in high up positions in order to really cause the rolling to begin. 

Yet I was given an opportunity to do a little more good with a lot less strings attached. Who doesn’t love a little more freedom. But what I was offered was complete freedom and who wouldn’t want complete freedom. 

You ever played the Assassins Creed games? I like to consider myself a walking version of that except no magical abilities, no special creed, or even a long line of ancestors that are meant to look similar and only the first three or four games nailed the similarities. Not the point. For those of you who’ve never heard of those games, imagine someone who's able to scale an entire flat building, stand on top of a metal cross, and even have some really cool equipment to help get the job done. We’ll be getting to those a little later. 

My name is eight. The Assassin. 

What’s the difference between a Hitman and Assassin you ask? One gets paid to do any form of killing for money, the other one does it for either political or religious reasons in this world of ours. But you both kill people? True. Never declared myself a saint anyhow in this world so shush! Story time! 

I pulled up to one of the abandoned planes to turn off my 4runner and climb out. Love the whole abandoned airfield look for the hideout. Really gives that fast and furious sort of vibe. How many movies are in the series anyhow? 

A ram truck came pulling up next to my 4runner as I began grabbing all my junk to hopefully store somewhere that was a little more secure than my new apartment here in California. Keeping a bunch of ropes, weapons, and my vast amount of foreign fruit would get me busted and I certainly love my Nectarine! 

“Glad to know I wasn’t the only one brought into this little adventure.” He appeared in front of me as I swung my duffle bag right on my shoulder. I closed the door as I turned to see him all dressed in american/military gear. An American soldier? Real power move.  

“Glad to see we got ourselves a soldier. Eight.” I held my hand out to him as he shook it. 

“Seven. At Least according to that dude.” He pointed as one came out of a tiny airplane and smiled. 

“Weird to see you not looking like a GAP model.” He showed up at my apartment in Israel looking like he walked out of Sunday church for some god knows reason. At first I thought he was apart of Jehovah's witness but as you can see we’re about to kill some mother fuckers.

“Ah really funny. Come meet the rest of us oh so lovely fellow campers.” We walked into the base as a women with blonde hair was reading a map while another woman was reading what looked like some sort of medical book. 

“Ladies this is seven and eight our newest batch of newbies. The one reading the map is two and in the cap is five. Not sure where the other two are but I imagine they’ll be showing up sometime soon.” I gave them a small wave as I put my bag on the ground next to the large table. 

“Look who finally showed up. Four this is seven and eight our eyes from the sky.” He tossed his hoodie down on the table as he gave us a small smile. The last member came into the room which is what I’m assuming was three. 

“There’s this trick that we all do to get through our day. We take a box and into that box, we place all the horrors of the world, all the wrongs humans do to one another. And then we close the box and pretend it doesn’t exist. Only some of us spend too much time inside the box. We’ve lost our ability to pretend. We know there’s too much unfinished business in this messed up world. Our job as ghosts is to do the dirty work the living can’t or won’t. And we do it from here. This is our haunted house. It’s a lot like the Batcave, except it’s nothing like the Batcave. Seven, eight. You’re dead. You’re gonna be restricted to cities that you’ve never visited before. People that you’ve never met. All of course your fellow ghost, none of whom you’ll know by name, only number, for safety, and so no one gets too close.” I mean. All we need is a butler, some random child to say “geez guys” and I think we would be set. 

“So basically what we’re doing is a sense of a justice league but with no moral codes?” Asking as One nodded. 

“Yes. Except Wonder Women uses guns and Batman is okay with killing people.” I..okay that works. 

“Each one of us has our own little gifts we bring to the table and now that we’ve required you two, we now officially have a set team.” 

“We’re like the A-Team but on steroids except Mr. T is this guy.” The Spainard commented as everyone just stared him down. 

“In your vast dreams.” One commented.

“Will we be required to wear matching rings?” Asking which made I believe his name is four chuckle a little. 

“Funny. Alright c’mon I wanna show you two something.” We all followed him into another room where a wall covered with nine pieces of paper with a single roman numerals on each one. 

“This is our target hitboard. These nine fuckers have been placing too much shit inside the box. So now they answer to us. Target number one: this prick. The Dictator of Turgistan Roach Alimov.” I walked over to his photo and began studying the guy. Radiates small dick energy already from all the work I’ve done over there, kind of like Kim Jong-Un except he doesn’t flaunt his money. 

“God I’m really craving french fries. Can we finish this over at Luckies?” I believe he’s three asked the group as I began walking past the other eight pieces of paper as I lightly saw their faces. Efrain Gracian. He runs the largest drug cartel in Mexico and has been killing a shit ton of innocent people in their villages. Oh my god they put Kim Jon-Un on their target list hell yeah. 

“So we plan on just killing all these pricks because they keep shitting on their countries and the rest of the world?” Leaning against the wall facing them as one nodded. 

“I say we finish this thing at Luckies. I’m really feeling a shitty beer to set the mood of introductions.” One began walking out of the fort as everyone else followed except for me as I looked at the wall again. Figured there would be less on the board in all honesty. 

~~~

I slipped into the booth with myself facing the middle of the window and the inside of the restaurant, seven sitting to my left while four was on my right. To think that I’m now officially dead and I cut all my ties off when I left home so no funeral. Bet they thought I was already dead anyhow so this works nicely. 

“So what do you bring to the table?” I was asked as I tossed my car keys on the table. 

“The soundless steps of a killer is what I bring to the table. You guys make a shit ton of noise if I think I know who you are. I’m assuming you guys we’re the one destroying Florence?” His eyes widened a little which makes my assumption correct cause these fuckers really had fun in Florence. 

“Florence was an absolute disaster.” He stopped talking as the waiter came to the group. 

“A round of Heineken for everyone. Then whatever else they want.” I ordered as everyone smiled a little as they began ordering their preferred drinks. 

“Figured you’d be a good match since you graciously just bought us all drinks. So if you’re a soundless killer, who have you eliminated?” You can thank the new democracy in South Sudan, and ending an entire sex trafficking operation in Chad. Both we’re super difficult to achieve but damn I did an awesome job. Both were run by major cunts obviously and took months of planning to even get close to them. 

“Who do you think got rid of the cunt from South Sudan?” Seven looked over at me then leaned across the table. 

“You killed Zafir Bahri?” Seven asked as I nodded. 

“Yup. Yet it was one of my most difficult assassinations since I had to make a break for it in the countryside. Kind of stuck out like a sore thumb till I made it to a reservation station.” The waitress came with the first round of beers. Four took a big gulp of his beer then sighed. 

“Alright if we’re going to show off what our past selves have done. I got the chance to steal a 5.0 carat ruby necklace that had two smaller diamonds that were about 4.2 carats that was about 100,000 dollars worth.” Yet he’s sitting here in an American restaurant drinking some shitty beer and eating high heart attack food? Sounds about right. 

“And here you are in America drinking Heineken and about to eat a very greasy double cheeseburger. Cheers” I grabbed my bottle as he did for us to clink our bottles together. Four seems super chill actually and now I’m kind of curious how he pulled off that heist. 

“So. What’s the absolute best thing about being dead? I mean you don’t have to pay taxes anymore.” Seven asked the entire group as they all had an inner conversation with themselves about the best part of being deceased. 

“No more dmv lines, no more shopping for Christmas.” Christmas has always been stressful for my old life and I didn’t even celebrate it!

“Or backstabbing girlfriends.” Raising my eyebrow at four. Damn someone broke his little heart. I’d play the worlds saddest song on the tiniest violin but not sure if he would get the reference. 

“They should make an “Out of office” reply for dead people. Sorry I’m away from the planet right now. I’m fucking dead.” That’s a bit much but if it makes her feel better about being dead then let her do her own thing. 

“No more tax, no more criminal records, no more getting arrested by the pigs just for being naked and or just the usual stuff. You know, being naked, getting drunk. Casual stuff.” How is being naked casual? Since when is being naked considered casual in any standard? 

“Umm. How is being naked any form of being casual?” He took a drink of his beer as he licked his lips.

“Ya know. Just walking around naked on your balcony or even on your front porch. It’s a casual thing.” I..I still don’t see that as a casual thing. Around the house yes because oversized t-shirt and underwear is always a comfy.

“Is that like when Jersey people say it’s a jersey thing?” Before he could answer One chuckled a little. 

“Guys. You’re all wrong. The best thing about being dead is the freedom. I mean, we’re all gonna die. May as well do it while we’re alive, right? When you’re young, you lock yourself into all of these bad decisions. Marriages, mortgages, and all that kind of stuff. But you die. It’s all escaped. Poof! Gone! From that point forward, all that matters is what you choose. The point is that we should bring seven and eight behind the curtain. You wanna hand me those over there?” Three handed him a bunch of plastic cups as leaned a little more forward on the table. I looked out of the corner of my eye to see him quickly glancing away back at the demonstration. Guess he’s kind of cute, not exactly sure how getting involved with people on the team is viewed. Rather avoid the whole situation. 

“Alright here. A little deminsation, no technology. So this is how to stage a coup in three not so easy steps. Alright you got a country, Turgistan right? These are the people, nice people, going about, doing their thing. Then you got the four generals, cuatro cunts, very bad guys. But there’s one worse guy. That’s the piece of shit dictator, right there at the top.” Sounds about right. That was basically the entire set up in South Sudan. 

“Don’t forget his brother.” Brother? Oh yeah, the guy has a brother that basically has been isolated or off the face of the earth at this point. Gotta love it when Governments hide those wanting a better world, or hiding sick pedophiles when they fake suicides so they don’t go to prison or end up being executed. 

“Democracy loving brother.” So we’ve got a shitty dictator and a loving democratic. Of freakin’ course!

“He’s the key. So we’re gonna hit the four generals. They’re gonna lead us to the brother.” 

“You kill top Generals, you fuck the dictators day.” Three shoved a few French fries in his mouth. 

“Can confirm.” I took a big gulp of my beer as I leaned back against the booth.

“Second thing we're gonna do is free the brother. And the last thing we’re gonna do is we’re gonna say goodbye to piece of shit dictator and hello to democracy loving brother.”

“It all goes down in four months, El Dia de los Muertos, The Day of the Dead.” Kinky.

“Oh that’s it?” Seven and I looked at each other for the both of us to nod in approval of the plan. 

“Um well that’s pretty simple ya know. The cups.” I took a drink of my beer as I began mentally seeing the whole plan in my head. 

“Wonderful presentation.” We’re gonna die aren’t we?

“So we’re all gonna die?” At this point I say that’s a hard yes. 

“Not me.” What confidence she has because there’s something about her that just kind of scares the shit out of me. Must be something federal in her former life.

“She’s not, we all are. Painfully.” Peachy. Real fucking peachy. But hey I’m already technically dead so this works out perfectly in the end. Just when my body shows up at someones house or is found floating on the coast, going to be quite a headache trying to figure out since I’m already dead. 

Maybe I should be more optimistic with this new life. Could be worse. I could be stuck in a work camp in Siberia. Maybe we just see where this goes and if it doesn’t end well I just disappear into the unknown. Sounds like an absolute plan! 

Taglist:

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#6 Underground #6 Underground Four #6 Underground Billy #Ben Hardy 6 Underground #6 Underground Fic #6 Underground fan fic #Four x Reader #Four/Billy x reader #Four/Billy #Ben Hardy #Ben Hardy x reader #Billy x reader

[nuka-zombie-archive]

the question (maybe the first thing that came were the bones)

When a child gets told evil runs through their veins as though poison runs through a snake, only trickled out when they bleed, would they ever assume they could be better than their ancestors that brought them said evil?

Would the little girl, with fire in place of hair and heart, and bruises that marred her skin like they were always a part of her being, ever think to herself why she was born this way? Why she was suddenly nothing more than a doll, a prop for mother dearest to use for her fantasies of a childhood she never got to experience?

Would the little boy, not old enough to fully grasp the concept of death and despair just yet, ever ask himself why he was thought of as expendable? Why he was never allowed to see the sun and feel the droplets of rain on his skin, like all the other children his age had done so many times by then?

The questions were always met with the same response. "Does it matter? You need to be put in line. You need to be corrected. You were simply born wrong, and now we must all suffer because of it."

The maid and the mother had an uncanny likeness to them, one where they look different, with different hairs and faces and gestures and dresses, but their eyes were the same. Their eyes were always filled with red bubbling hate as their words overflowed and spilled out and they lashed out like rabid wolves, tearing, gnawing at the soft skin of the children's hearts until they were finally able to compose themselves.

Until their manners got the better of them and the silent seething anger was once again left to brew in their chests, awaiting for the next time the children slipped up so they might pour it over them like liquid metals pour into anthills, suffocating them in their endless hate.

There was nothing they could do, so, naturally, they did what they could. The coping was different for them, and it was mostly because one actually knew what true love felt like, while the other was left in darkness and left behind.

One is always left behind, when it comes to those two, but both have the scars to prove that, in a game rigged from the start, you can't win either way. That there was no way to disobey the rules when the one in control constantly changes them to benefit the situation.

That was just one of the many important lessons they've learned over the years, if not the most important one.

The next most important lesson was that no one truly cared about or for them.

No one cared enough when a child was born evil, or deemed evil from a young age.

No one batted an eye when the girl who had once been as bright as the sun, ready to face any odds with a smile on her face, suddenly became quiet, reserved, trying to hide her knees in shame, became a fading light, flickering in and out of existence. They were just waiting for it to go out once and for all. No one cared if they were not getting inconvenienced. No one raised a brow when the boy with quiet determination in his eyes and wisdom beyond his years had gotten too sick to leave his bed, had gotten strange new scars on his hands and arms, became pale enough to be considered more a ghost than a corporeal being. They were just waiting for him to disappear once and for all. No one cared if no one knew about the problem.

No one cared.

And perhaps they could've been better off together. Or perhaps they'd only realize that they were truly alone in this world when they finally found out that not even their sibling cared for them.

But there was always an escape plan, even if it was not obvious right away. 

Perhaps they could build from that apathy. At least, they could try. They could build off the corpses and and shells of their old selves they've changed through the years, looking at their now soulless eyes as they turn bone into dust and then into stone.

Building blocks were always the hardest to make and set, after all.

And one day, maybe, they'd build something good out of the ruins of themselves.

Or they would never get a chance to try, as the fire that burned within them all consumed them and set them ablaze, leaving only the flesh behind.

#addelaise vorelis #llewyn rava #REALLY OLD WRITING ALERT #but i wanted to post something so yeehaw #my writing

[missjackil]

My 14x13 Opinion

Lebanon The 300th Episode

I am so proud of this episode and so blown away by how awesome these last 4 episodes have been! Might be an unpopular opinion guys but I really like this season! Sure its had some duds like Optimism and The Scar (Though The Scar had a great broment) but I thought we’d be getting Leader!Sam this season but we have emotionally wrecked!Sam instead, and Im here for that! Needless to say I LOVED this episode, I was so pleased with pretty much everything and I have no big complaints, so lets have at it! I enjoyed the lightness of the beginning, and getting a look at the town. Im so pleased they FINALLY noted that Lebanon KS is the geographical center of the country! So the boys can get anywhere in the country within a day and a half. Its kinda weird though that Lebanon seems to have 3 different post offices. The one from Something About Mary, the one from The Spear, and now this one. LOL thats no big deal so lets move along. 

It was funny that the dude in the pawn shop committed suicide by Winchester, which of course is trying to, or successfully killing one gets you killed by the other, and Dean acknowledges that they all talk too much LOL.

The kids talking about the rumors about the boys was fun but I really wasnt impressed by “cool chick” Max. I liked the boy in the hat though, he was great. Stealing Baby is also suicide by Winchester but Sam and Dean dont go around killing teenagers so, they got lucky. 

I was amuzed by the ghost of John Wayne Gacey clown, and Dean being all “You love serial killers but hate clowns!” and Sam being like “I get it Dean” but Im really glad they didnt make Sam act like he was scared like the other times before. It just wouldnt have fit well into this episode I dont think. Saving Dean is more urgent than a clown fear right? 

Moving on to the meat, and this was as meaty as an episode can get! Dad comes because Dean makes a wish. It seems Dean’s desire to have his family together is more of a desire than getting ole Mike out of his head, and thats really pretty sweet. Dad recognizes the boys right away, which is cool especially since Sam looks NOTHING like he did back in 05, let alone 03 but John says “What happened to you?” I reckon they aged 15+ yrs Pops!

The boys give Dad the nutshell version of their lives over shots of whiskey, because, how else could you do it? But man, John’s face when he hears Mary’s voice was amazing! And I dont even like Mary but, good lord if she didnt nail these scenes!  My hear crumbled, their reunion kiss was completely believable even though we never saw them kiss on the show before. I saw some of you whine that John didnt ask permission first... really? I could see if they were gonna have sex, but when does anyone on TV ever ask to kiss someone?? Not very often. It was by far the most romantic thing Ive ever seen on this show, 

Like typical Winchesters, Dean is sucked into whats right before him and Sam is worried about the big picture. But Sam doesnt lean too hard on Dean about it, lets all have the nice family dinner we’ve never had. 

While compiling a shopping list with Mom, Dean leaves Sam alone with Dad. This scene was .... WOW... so well written and brilliantly acted. I had been wondering how Sam and John would hash things out and this was so much better than I invisioned. Its so in character for the Sam we have watched grow over the last 14 years to get over the bad and focus on the good, because those you love can be taken away in a heartbeat and being left with hard feelings is the worst. All he can think of is seeing Dad dead on the floor and he never got to say goodbye. and he never got to smooth things over. Sams emotions were raw and real! Jared really let Sam feel it, all the regret and anger and loneliness, melts away and turns into “but you loved us.... and thats enough” It was so refreshing to get so much emotional POV from Sam. Something we;ve gotten more of this season than we ever have. It hurts like a mother... but its worth it. 

After the heart shattering talk, Sam composes himself and tells Dean hes right. This was a good thing even if its jut temporary. He asks Dean if he wants company for shopping, and this is like Sam wanting to hold on to his rock (Dean). This is precious.

The boys leave Mom and Dad alone, and go shopping. Now we discover that the timeline has shifted and they have alternate selves. Dean is a wanted criminal and Sam, omg lol Sam is flaming TED talking douchebag that wears turtlenecks, loves Kale, doesnt drink coffee, and doesnt see the need for hobbies or family. But, I gotta say hes lovely in glasses 😎

This inevitably means that not only will Mom disappear, but the boys wont have the relationship they do, and we know, thats a fate worse than the universe exploding. Meanwhile we get a guest appearance by Zachariah and Cas, and Cas is back to S4-ish Cas and possibly even more of a dick. Sam and Dean find them as theyre about to kill the teenagers from earlier and save them. Cas of course doesnt know them from Adam but Zach does. A fight ensues and I just have to state very clearly that Dean went after cas with the angel blade with no second thoughts. Zach attacks Sam and tries to kill him, but Sam kills him instead. Now thats poetic to have been killed by both Winchesters at different times! 

Now Cas is trying to kil Sam, which as we know, never goes over well with Dean, but Cas really nails Sam HARD in the face and Sam spews blood all over! That was pretty graphic and dramatic! Well full strength douchebag angel or not, Dean doesnt let you beat on Sam. so heattacks Cas, and Cas is about to kill Dean. There is no “Cas its me!! Fight this!! I love you!!” like all the hellers wanted and predicted LMAO instead Sam writes a sigil with his blood and zaps Cas away.

Back at home, yet another highly emotional scene as Sam tells Mom why they have to let Dad go... she would just fade away and they would become their “other” selves. Mary cries real tears. and Sam overflows again. God my heart!! Dean talks to Dad and Dad is more than willing to lay his life down for Mom. They all sit solomly at the dinner table. Oddly enough Sam is the only one eating, and Im sure theres meta in there somewhere.... all I can think of at the moment is that hes distracting himself from the painful slence, and hes the only one who never really had Winchester Surprise. John decides to lighten the mood and be grateful for this time, and they all follow suit. And it was glorious!! My boys laughing and eating and enjoying themselves with mom and dad, I just dont know what words to give this scene! 

Afterwards, Sam and Dean are washing dishes together #husbros and they briefly discuss keeping it the way it is. I mean really.... Mom may disappear and they wont be insanely co-dependent, but Michael wont be in Dean’s head anymore, because nothing leading up to it would have ever happened. Dean says hes good with who he is, and hes good with who Sam is, and hes just too old to want to change it. 

The farewell scene was nothing less than earth shattering painful. Dean was surprisingly calm and stoic, though he had many tears. It was as if on purpose, he let Sam and Mom have all the emotions. John hugs his sons one last time. and tells them he’s so proud of them, Poor Sam is gutted. He cant even pretend he isnt crying. Dad tells them he loves them. Dean says he loves him too. Sam cant get words out so he wipes his face and nods. In a beautiful paralell from the old days when John told Dean “Take care of Sammy” and Dean answers “I always do” John says “Take care of each other” and Sam answers “We always do”😭😭😭😭😭😭John takes Mary’s hand and Sam in obvious pain crushes the pearl and Dad fades away. He wakes up in Baby back in 2003 believing he had a good dream. 

Now we have to wait a freakin month for the next episode. But Ill be ok. I think I need a break from all the emotions of the last several episodes because the next couple will probably be less dramatic. This is ok, if every episode was this emotional, even that would get old fast. We only have 7 episodes left and I dont want to rush to the end of the season for a freakin 6 month hiatus!! AGGGHHHHH!! 

Overall I am in love with this episode. It may have moved itself into first place but it has at least tied. This episode definitely met and exceeded my expectations, and last week I thought it wouldnt be able to beat that one. Im so proud of SPN, the writers, and the cast of this episode Ill give them all a standing ovation 👏👏👏👏👍💖 I think its abundantly clear now that Dabb DOES care about the brother bond and doesnt give a rats ass about dean/cas in fact it looks as if the next few episodes might be Dean lite... but we never really know till we watch the episodes.

In conclusion. on a scale from Bloodlines to Who We Are, Lebanon is a 10. Well done show.... well done! Now onward to the 400th episode!!

#14x13 spoilers #spn 300 spoilers #best episode ever

[heavenofficialsbl]

H.O.B. Chapter 9

The Mountain’s Locked Ancient Temple, The Forest of Hanging Corpses part i

Note: I totally just noticed that this posted to my man blog instead of my HOB blog ~whoops~ I couldn’t find it and thought I had lost the whole thing :’(

Guys I’m starting to get way too into this story now, I can’t even wait a full day to work on the next chapter. Gotta read NOW

P.S. this chapters title sounds sweeet

Okay yeah so Little Ying is totally the ghost dude. Shes gotta be. Why would she have come with them? They also didn’t now that she was there. She would have wanted to come up WITH them, not behind them, since she was so terrified of the bridegroom story. They would have known if she was walking with them

“Secretly followed”

What if the bridegroom is clinging to Xie Lian or something..? Why are Fu Yao and Nan Feng looking at him so oddly? They knew he had been dressed up for the mission, there shouldn’t be any reason to be weirded out by it. It was also their idea, so it’s not like they could think it was HIS kink or something

OH HES JUST SO PRETTY THEY DON’T KNOW WHAT TO DO THEY’RE CONFUSED. I forgot he had had his veil on, so they hadn’t seen his makeup

Oh my god this is great, he making them questions themselves so hardcore! Haahhh our MCs and their face makeup

I wonder if Ling Wen had known (I don’t see why she wouldn’t know) that there was a Ming Guang Temple on the mountain, and if she had thought it was curious that the prayers hadn’t come from there. I also feel like shes so busy it was just not something that ocured to her

Is he asking why they wouldn’t build another temple for the same martial god, and instead built a temple for a different martial god? Like they had given up on Ming Guang or..?

Well some little nosy rat decided to go and poke around in the hornets nest. Foolish humans

I hope they hold down their waists and give them a beating

Of course they’re all dead! You can’t act all high and mighty, like you know whats going on, and then be so shocked!

“Buy them back”? You’re really going to SELL the corpses back to their families? What a terrible person

And Xie Lian is STILL trying to warn/help them. He’s a GOOD PERSON

Oh yeah, don’t want them going inside to steal your corpse brides?

Well if he’s been warning them and they continue to do what he says NOT to do, they can’t really be blamed for it

God, they really have zero respect for women or for the dead. First they’re afraid, and now they’re daring each other to touch the brides’ faces

He even wanted to grope this girl a few more times.

EEEEAAAAAAAAAGGHHHHHHHHHHHH SHES DEAD STOP TOUCHING HER

Wait when did she grab a rock? And how did she manage to hit his head as she was being lifted and moved? She’s got some strength to put a hole in his head

Okay so now why would she confess if she hadn’t thrown it? Unless… I’m thinking of the scene from Harry Potter, where Hermione throws the stone into Hagrids house to warn her and Harry’s past selves that they needed to get out of there. Thar be magic afoot

ITS BLOOD RAIN maybe. Hey, they’re lucky they’re alive

OH THE CORPSES ARE HANGING AND DRIPPING HELL YES

Upside-down? Very interesting

They were all frightened so badly, they completely blanked out as not a single voice could be heard. And when Nan Feng and Fu Yao walked over and saw this sight, both of their gazes became focused.

The difference between made-up strength and actual, experience-based strength. The big buff men thought they were so prepared for this, but they couldn’t have been more wrong

Ohh, so they know exactly who it is

So they knew of his existence, but hadn’t taken care of him? Curious, I wonder if there’s a reason behind it. For something “near devastation” to be assessed and left alive

If it was a ‘Devastation’, then it was a ‘Devastation’. If it wasn’t, then it wasn’t.

People just want to make it sound more frightening or more impressive than it is. Not that a ‘wrath’ level lacks terror or impressiveness. I like how straightforward he is. I would consider myself a realist, and I get the feeling that Xie Lian is as well. It’s a great thing to be when you’re dealing with these types of things, not entertaining fantasies or the like, which could get you in a worse position or even killed

That’s why the ‘rain’ had been so short and sudden: it was just a “grove” of bodies

I said before: it’s always the butterflies!

Uh-oh, our gentleman seems to have quite a nasty reputation for the boys to immediately want to leave. Not even a forest of dead, bleeding bodies could bother them

“… no more than a wrath” “just a near devastation, and would only give us a headache”

How terrifying is this guy for them to not bat an eye about leaving the two wrath level (remember, each can take out a city, thousands of people) creatures?

Sending the two boys back and staying himself makes more sense. I don’t know how old these kids are (it said they looked about 18 or 19 but that’s just how they physically look) but Xie Lian is over 800, and has a lot of experience

Ohhh boy, what have they caught now?

Well, again, thank you Xie Lian for not immediately believing ghost tales and not assuming that, because a person like this does exist, he’s obviously the bridegroom

He must have thrown the rock earlier, but still not sure why. It didn’t have too much of an effect, it made the youngster bleed but he’s still alive. He hadn’t continued attacking them so he wasn’t trying to kill. Maybe he was trying to draw them outside or distract them somehow?

Maybe Little Ying had been taking care of him? That’s why he had thrown the rock, because she was in trouble?

Maybe they’re the same person?

YES SLAP HIM no one wants to hear him anymore

Hes asking the boy, yet shes responding like hes asking her

Though I do have to warn that, even if you’ve been taking care of someone for a while, you still might not know their whole story. Especially like this kid, who doesn’t talk. Just because Little Ying has spent some time with him doesn’t mean she knows for SURE he didn’t kill anyone, unless she knows who DID, and it wasn’t him

There really is a lot going on, I don’t blame you for getting dizzy, Xie Lian

Apparently, it is all clear to him now

He had just been thinking about how simple it was to hide in a group with many people, so it makes sense that the bridegroom would hid among the other brides!

Ugh Now this mystery man is getting even more intriguing! I need more D:

Thanks for reading!

-Bee

#HOB Liveblog #heaven officials blessing

[jettremy]

11 for cas!

( * seven minutes in heaven . )

                    ➥  (   11.  )  needy, hungry kiss.

            WHEN YOU LOSE EVERYTHING & all at once, it’s laborious & nearly impossible to escape a mindset so disturbing, jaundiced & detrimental. you morph into an ominous, dark thundercloud, spreading your electrifying negativity like a virus via air particles. those whom you haven’t pushed away yet, you’re poisoning with your blackened blood that’s being paradoxically pumped by the sheer N O T H I N G N E S S between your rotting lungs. you inject your venom into their pristine flesh with every graze of your lips & teeth against their body while hidden beneath thin sheets. all of your friends you’ve abandoned, determining that you’ve acquired a peculiar taste for the menacing touch of self-hatred, the strangling embrace of solitude & the deadly kiss of depression, a taste none of them would understand. you resort to numerous unfit lovers whom you throw away when they fail to make you feel ANYTHING, even if it’s repulsion. you’ve become erratically violent towards your own skin & bones, mutilating & scorching not only your own costume but the world around you as well   ——   seeing something consumed by flames is comforting & calming, makes you feel as if the destroyed object might sense a sliver of what your insides are going through constantly, or at least when they’re not numbed by the substances that will steal your life away prematurely. all of it jeremy has tasted on his tongue, felt on his skin. all it took was a single summer for him to lose two of the most substantial people of his life and for everything to turn to shit. so far, he’s been through three notable phases & all of them could be linked to a particular love interest of his.

CASSIUS HWANG   ——   the happiest version of jeremy. back then, everything was normal &, most importantly, easy & painless. he often dreams of the life he used to have & is desperate to experience it all over again.

RHEE TAEMIN   ——   the worst version of him, one that he wants to erase from his own memory. one that he’s ashamed of, one that he despises with every single cell of his lanky body. occasionally he’s tempted to fall back into his old ways, but, thankfully, he’s regained enough strength to pull himself up every single time & escape his old vices’ vicious claws.

KERRY HIMURA   ——   the newest version of the artistic male, one that’s yet to be fully explored because he’s stuck healing & finding himself all over again. it’s as if he’s walking on thin ice, deathly afraid of potentially relapsing to his second phase, when all he wants to do is be who he was while dating cas. he masks his true sensitivity with jokes, too busy teasing people to form DEEP, emotional connections with them.

            EXTREMELY INFREQUENT ARE THE INSTANCES when the four of them find themselves in the same room, when all of jeremy’s emotions and old selves come crashing together, his various identities colliding and threatening to D E M O L I S H anything and anyone, guilty or innocent, that’s in their way with an overwhelming, disastrous force. he’s on edge whilst appearing to be comfortable on cassius’ sofa, his feelings confusing the living fuck out of him as his wild eyes try to take in everything that’s going on around him. the only indicator that he might be feeling UNEASY is his left leg which is mercilessly bouncing, though, if you know jeremy, you know that’s one of his many, many annoying habits that he can’t seem to shake off. on days when it’s just too hard to breathe, jeremy skips out on these cutesy get-togethers and exchanges them for a night of spray painting and liquor abuse. however, today’s too special for him to ghost on his friends, both in an unexpected, unannounced manner & with a fake excuse. a long time ago, this date used to be one of the most I M P O R T A N T ones to him   ——   CAS’ BIRTHDAY. days before it, jeremy would prepare gifts for his then boyfriend, little drawings and paintings, he’d rehears playing his favourite songs on his old, beat-up & sticker-covered acoustic guitar, even when he wasn’t the biggest fan of said tunes. he’d treat him like a king on that day, perhaps only a smidge more than he normally would on any other   ——   he always made sure that cassius was feeling good and was treated properly. whilst recalling some of their joint memories that he holds very dear, like piercing cas’ nose and inking up his skin ( a sign of TRUST in jeremy’s eyes ), or having him lovingly hold remy’s hand when a piercer stuck a needle through his privates, his often red-rimmed, black oak bark orbs are tirelessly following the birthday boy who’s dressed up so nicely. even jeremy found it in him to put on a proper outfit for this occasion   ——   a dark rose gold silk dress shirt embellished with onyx embroidery on its collar & the very ends of its sleeves ( dae did make him laugh previously by saying it looked like a delicious, mouth-watering raspberry adorn with the sun’s breathtaking golden glow ) paired with tight charcoal jeans that beautifully show that he never skips leg day at the gym. they carry his characteristic edge & rebellion, since they’re tastefully ripped. when he talked to the blond, they might have told him that the fashion major of the group would surely find him attractive in this outfit, which might have caused him to smile secretly. his stomach was tied in knots at the thought of kerry’s reaction & impression of his garments which he assumed she’d keep to herself. chimlin did surprise him with her obnoxious ‘ OMG LEE, YOU CLEANED UP NICELY ’ which earned her a scoff from jeremy who stated that he had a good fashion sense, but that he preferred his cozy, oversized sweatshirts. though, surely everyone would argue that tight-fitted shirts like this one, which show off his lean waist & broad shoulders, suit him far better. 

            THEY’RE ALL SUPPOSED TO BE pregaming before going out to celebrate cassius’ birthday, but the architect has done his fair share of prepregaming all alone in his bedroom before kerry, bless her heart, came to notify him that it was time for them to leave & go to the mansion next door. though he was, at first, buzzing around the little brunette, complimenting her new hairdo & expressing that he could never in his life decide whether it fits her better than blonde locks or not, once he stepped into his ex’s house, it all stopped abruptly. the two men from his past aggressively dragged his thoughts & feelings away from kerry, mostly because seeing them in the same room always reminds him of how defeating it feels to hurt or be hurt by another person. he realises how badly he’d burn her if she came too close, how she’d get swallowed by his endless darkness if she peeked into his heart   ——   HE’D DESTROY HER. she doesn’t deserve that. thankfully, he’s not in the limelight tonight, resulting into no one noticing how mopey he’s become whilst sitting on this damned overpriced sofa and gulping some fancy-ass, well-aged whiskey. he’s not sure exactly whose idea was it to engage in many different drinking games, but he sure does pick up on chimlin trying to persuade them to play seven nights in heaven   ——   sure that childish bitch would propose that, a lover of all things dramatic & secretive. he witnesses her hand the empty whiskey bottle to the peach-haired man, encouraging him to give it a spin. it unsettles the tattoo artist who immediately recalls his ex-boyfriend crawling out of a closet with a blossoming bruise on his neck, made by no other than han yeseul. he’s well aware of the fact that he doesn’t get to be J E A L O U S, mostly because that night he got marked up by kerry and, yes, he fucking liked it, but it still made him feel uncomfortable, tightened his chest significantly. he knows that during these past three years cas must have dated, loved, screwed who knows how many people   ——   it’s something inevitable   ——   but the thought of him loving someone else shatters his whole being, mostly because he hasn’t been able to have true feelings for anyone ever since they parted ways. perhaps because he didn’t get proper closure.

            HE’S ITCHING FOR A CIGARETTE, a glorious death stick that would ease his nerves while the bottle’s spinning on the floor, making him queasy as he thinks about all the possible outcomes of this situation. he knows that cas doesn’t mind that he smokes, but this happens to be junhyuk’s house as well & he has no fucking clue how the writer feels about having one lit in his home. this is why jeremy ends up anxiously drumming his tattooed, slender fingers on his knees instead. he could deal with cas going into that stupid closet with dae, jaewon, jaesung, dylan and kerry. everyone else ? it’s a strong no from him, considering that yeseul, rin and chim could do who the fuck knows what with him, jun is obviously into him, and … having taemin & cas in a small closet together ? a war would happen and there’d be only ONE survivor   ——-   yes, he’s the one to blame for that as well. his lids shield his eyes from the bottle, protecting them from what’s about to happen & his head falls back   ——   he’s not even tipsy at this point which SHOULDN’T come as a surprise to anyone since he’s quite experienced in this domain, his body used to all sorts of opiates that it’s begun to welcome them as if they’re a normal part of his system. having tuned everyone out for a mere second as he braces himself for the worst, he suddenly senses a shove to his ribs   ——   he’s being elbowed by none other than daehyun for a reason still unknown to the older male. as soon as his chestnuts are revealed, they’re faced with the opening of the glass bottle, which is pointing at him, & numerous sets of eyes boring into him   ——   F U C K. act cool. act fucking cool. this ? this is the last thing he thought would happen. jeremy forces out an exasperated sigh and theatrically reacts as if he’s done with their childish bullshit when in reality his heart’s shaking in terror in its cavity, like a leaf repeatedly hit with light wind. he pushes himself up & off the elegant piece of furniture casually, his body moving unhurriedly, and refuses to allow anyone to see how solicitous he is about what’s in his and cassius’ near future.

           JEREMY’S MASK FALLS AS SOON AS the door closes behind him & he’s all alone with his former lover. his beaming smile lights up the darkness of the tight place they’ve been shoved in, his whole expression indicating that he’s nothing but amused & sated. he reminds himself not to lean back & hit the wood in order to prevent the others from being suspicious of what they’re doing.          ❛     oh me, oh my … all alone with the birthday boy ? me ? how did i get so lucky ?     ❜         it occurs to him that he has no idea what cas is feeling towards him at this point, or if he has any feelings left for him after all this time. hell, he has no clue what the fuck his own mutilated, bleeding heart wants. still, he takes a courageous step forward, carefully presses the older against the closet wall and snakes his arms around his neck. it feels delightful doing it to someone else for once. although his go to type are petite girls & boys alike ( exhibit a, KERRY   —–   exhibit b, TAEMIN ), he’s always loved his and cassius’ height difference, basked in feeling small for the first time in his life in the taller man’s arms, adored how he could feel like a protectee rather than a protector, even though cas is much softer & sweeter than jeremy is. it’s good not to get neck & back cramps from leaning down so much, even more amazing having to look up in order to see his handsome features.        ❛    this must be the best present you’ve gotten thus far, but the night is full of surprises, cassie.     ❜         a whisper taunts cas’ earlobe, along with a set of incisors that graze it dangerously. his desire leads him to the jawline he’s explored many, many times ( much like every other spot of the radio host’s body ), his naturally pouty lips planting kisses on their path to jeremy’s final goal. a pair of nostalgic, desperate hands caresses cas’ sides and then goes all the way down to POSSESSIVELY cup the curve of his back, squeezing hard enough to make their hips clash together, and perhaps earn a gasp.         ❛     do you still have that little tattoo i gave you down there ?     ❜         of course it couldn’t have disappeared on its own, like cas did from jeremy’s life, and the younger truly doubts cas would go through all that pain just to get it removed, but he needs to ask, his question making his smirking lips brush against the other’s   ——   he doesn’t cave in just yet, though, he waits for the answer to his teasing. in a pointless attempt to bring his F R I E N D closer, he rests one of his hand on the back of the taller’s neck, and with a hard grip on his thigh, brings his leg up and around his own waist, pressing cas into the wall. immediately after connecting their mouths for the first time after three years, jeremy has to pull back to catch a breath because the overwhelming, much needed contact sucked all the air out of him with its intensity. like a starved animal, he eyes the other’s parted, glossy lips ravenously, along with his somewhat hooded soul windows, & his irresistible expression pushes jeremy into a lip-lock that promises to provoke a spontaneous combustion. his blood vessels are boiling, body shaking as his tongue licks between cas’ precious pillowy softness, tugging on his bottom pinkness afterwards. using his exceptional upper body strength, he picks cas up for a few seconds, just enough for him to crouch and sit on the floor with cas on his lap because ... why exactly would he be standing if he can be comfortable on the ground while sharing needy kisses with the birthday boy ? jeremy slowly dials down on the desperateness, savouring the moment while he can. he pulls away, his hands going up to the other’s face. he brushes his knuckles against his cheek which leads him to gently cradling both of them and tracing cas’ adorable dimple with his thumb.         ❛     happy birthday, cas.     ❜         he whispers softly, pressing their lips  together in a fond, lingering peck. his eyes are shut, his brain going back to the texts they exchanged the other day, when cas asked him whether he was still in love with him. this, this very moment is when jeremy’s insides start PAINING HIM UNBEARABLY.

#i'm sorry #this boy is a mess #and i love the fact that he overthinks yet comes off as a thoughtless idiot ?? #( cas. ) #riotvcn #( meme: done. )

[soulstream-rp]

Welcome Hillary! We are happy that you are joining us in Soulstream. Isaac is definitely a great addition to the RP (and our first Tuner OC!) We are excited to see how being a deaf Tuner would be played, and how his plot will progress.  Please make sure to follow everyone on our masterlist and our gossip blog. Follow the tags for announcements, starters, follows & unfollows, as well as events. Also, make sure that your submit is activated for OOC chat link purposes.

OOC Info.

Name: Hillary

Age: 25

Preferred Pronoun: she/her

Timezone: EST

Tumblr Contact Info: persephoning.tumblr.com

Activity Scale (1-10): (please add an explanation) 6/10, as I’m a working adult and sometimes the muse just isn’t there.

IC Info. Original Character

Character Name: Isaac Morgenstern

Age: 30

Character Type: Tuner

True Name: “Panacea”

FC: Bob Morley

Sexuality: Pansexual

Date & Place of Birth: February 1st, 1987

Occupation: Medical Researcher

Family:

Sarah Morgenstern (adoptive mother) Tania D’Angelo (adoptive mother)

Connections: I spoke at length with Admin Rhi about a close friendship between Isaac and Miguel Soto, but whether or not that would/should be on his bio is up to her entirely.

Background:

What he would want to make clear (in the conversation he never has, in the explanation that he dreads giving) is that he always has the consent of the people that he takes on as vessels once his latest has started to buckle under the wear and tear of his abilities. Isaac is an old Tuner, he has long since lost count of the years that he has existed, but he remembers the people who have given him their lives to use as his own, even if their names have melted into memory and he only has tiny fragments of the lives of the oldest left. He has their consent and often their sympathy, as he has never taken on a vessel without befriending them first, and it is, in his experience, quite difficult to say no to someone you consider a friend when they’re explaining to you the many ways in which they are dying. What clinches it is that he has always worked in the medical field one way or another, and he has always taken vessels who do the same, counting on the camraderie of the battlefield, the hospital, or the clinic to bind them further.

It makes things easier, both on them when the time comes for him to reveal his gifts and make his case, and on himself, when he has time to reflect on the number of lives he has taken over in his time. Isaac Morgenstern is one such life, a pre-med student at a local university that he befriended ten years ago when his last vessel was fading from overuse. There are some among his kind who prefer to take from the restless or from those who had been seeking to end their lives, but Panacea convinced Isaac on three fronts: curiosity, generosity of spirit, and guilt of the highest order. In truth, he might have lied to the boy a little. He had no way of knowing if the transfer of Isaac’s body to his soul would reverse his deafness, and so it was lucky that that boy had no way of knowing otherwise once the deed was done and the Name was merged with himself. Isaac has done far more healing and twice as much good since then as he could have as a plain mortal, and it is that fact that he clings to when their own guilt starts to nag at them. True, he had misused his vessel that last time and burned their energy too far and too fast, but the lives that he had saved by doing so, they were worth something, weren’t they?

On the whole, he tries not to think about it at all. He keeps his adoptive mothers at a comfortable distance, with occasional uncomfortable phone calls to bridge the thousands of miles that he has put between them since taking over his life ten years ago. It was easier to be around them when he was freshly reborn, when Isaac’s memories reigned supreme in this vessel’s mind, but those days have long gone by now. He thought it best to leave after graduation, to dart across the country and create a new Isaac in a new place, with just enough of a veneer of the old to please the women who gave him access to the boy’s trust fund. The people of Port Ashborne know a different Isaac to that of the people who knew him in his younger years, but there are enough similiarities between the Tuner and the man that he could pass if he were so unlucky as to bump into an old school friend or distant relative. That isn’t too difficult, but communicating with spirits?

That was exceptionally difficult to finagle after centuries of being able to hear and speak to them at will. There were a lot of very frustrated souls in the beginning, quite a few thrown objects and scrawled messages on the floor of his dorm room in Sharpie when he tried to ignore them for a time. Since then he’s learned to adapt, there are whiteboards left all over his apartment for their use and his, as well as a tablet computer that he carries around to help him communicate with the less dead members of society. He isn’t as fast as he used to be, as far as his Tuner duties to the Soulstream go, but his healing ability continues unimpeded. After all, you don’t need to hear or speak to a person to see that they’re injured, even though he doesn’t actively seek out mortals to heal anymore. This too shall pass, this vessel too shall decay and be worn down by the demands of his ability, but until then, he’s satisfied with where and whom he is for right now.

Additional Information:

When stressed or sleepless (though most often both), Isaac has a habit of getting up in the wee hours of the morning to bake or cook, often in the sort of quantities that even his chest freezer can’t handle. He feels that it helps him untangle problems, for there is comfort to be found in the completion of that task. It’s also something that doesn’t really require him to think, and so the rhythmic nature of cooking can help him force a solution out of his mind. It helps him bond with his coworkers as well, being a constant source of free lasagna or brownies.

Since he isn’t actually practicing medicine this time around, Isaac finds that he spends more time than usual working with spirits of the dead and guiding them back to the Soulstream. That’s more difficult these days, but he found that learning how to jump those hurdles improved his ability to communicate with the living as well. Isaac himself could passably lip read and knew ASL before he became a Tuner, though it’s far easier to type or write. He carries a tablet with him always for this purpose.

Personality:

In truth, Isaac isn’t all that sure anymore where his True self, his Tuner self, and the personality of his vessel ends. By nature he is kind and gentle, but he can also be harshly pragmatic and selfish when needs must. He will burn the lives of his vessels down faster than average to heal those who need it, but he also will actively target those he befriends in order to find a proper vessel for the time when his own starts to fail. The continuation of his work, of his healing and his shepherding of the souls of the dead back to the Stream, that is far more important to him than the autonomy of most any other mortal. (Whether or not this is a fear of the void, the death that would come if he didn’t so carefully plan out his future vessels, remains to be seen.) If the situation requires it, he has no problem with using guilt and his keen observation skills to manipulate someone to get his way.

Skills:

Like his true name implies, Isaac can heal almost any wound from the minor to the grievous by touch and focus alone, but there are limitations. He can’t heal his own vessel, and the healing he does is wholly dependant on the energy of that vessel. If he’s careful and doesn’t use more energy than his vessel could possibly take in by eating or sleeping in one day, he doesn’t damage their bodies, but that is an art that he has yet to master. As it stands now, he tends to use his vessels up far earlier than others of his kind and thus shortens their lifespans with every person he heals. His rationale is that his healing is in fact a thousand times more effective than any healing that those healthcare workers that are his preferred vessels could have managed themselves, and that with the hours that the average healthcare worker puts in every week, he’s only increasing the pace at which they wear themselves down. Or so he tells himself.

Isaac Morgenstern was of average build when he became a Tuner, but like many Tuners, he’s stronger than average and has better reflexes, sharper senses (except hearing of course). However, he doesn’t heal as quickly as some of them do. Faster than a mortal, but not as fast as some, which he thinks might just have something to do with the machinery of his ability. Not the worst thing in the world.

Since the vast majority of his past selves have worked in medicine or healing, Isaac is exceptionally skilled at his chosen profession, and would be more obviously so to others if he still practiced face to face. This vessel’s limitations have made that rather impossible though, and though that is somewhat disappointing, it does mean that he isn’t using his healing as much as he used to.

Sample Paragraph: 

He could have borne the rattling of the dishes, the occasional angry message scrawled on the kitchen counter in ketchup as he tried to grapple with the ghost that had invited itself into his new apartment, but waking up at three in the morning because it had decided to turn on all the taps in his bathroom to the point that there was an inch of water on the floor was a tad too far. Isaac had left notes, he had encouraged the ghostly young woman to use the large rolling whiteboard in the living room to tell him what it was that was keeping them here on Earth, but this one had refused to follow his directions at every turn. That and the bill he received from the plumber later on made it clear that he had to take some more drastic measures to ferry this soul back to the Stream. At the Target later that day he bought groceries, fresh dry erase markers, and of all things, a Ouija board. They could yell all they liked (and he knew they were yelling, the vibrations were unmistakable even if that was all he could pick up on), but if they lost him his security deposit, he was going to be pissed.

The rattling started again as he was finishing up with putting groceries away, and Isaac made a vague disgruntled noise as he shut the refrigerator. A friend at work had recommended an app that would take text and make it into a computerized voice, but he set the Ouija board out on the kitchen island as well. Better to be overprepared than not at all, as far as he was concerned. Something must have worked though, for not thirty seconds after he had typed ‘I know what you are, but I’m deaf, so yelling isn’t going to help either of us’, the plate that had been levitating behind him fell into the sink with a splintering crash as the girl glared at him. ‘You’re going to have to write on the board or use this stupid game to talk to me’ got him an icy breath of air on the back of his neck, but ‘You can’t move on unless you talk to me’ finally made her pick up the dry erase marker. If this worked, he was going to have to bake Minh a small bakery’s worth of stuff, but it would be worth it.

At first he was relieved to see that she was writing on the whiteboard, but then? Then he was disheartened, if not actively upset by the contents of what was written there in harsh red letters. ‘What if I don’t want to move on? What if I’m afraid?’ the ghost’s message read, and Isaac sighed as he slid off of the kitchen stool that he had been sitting on earlier. Tablet in hand, he erased what had been written before and tried to type out an answer. There honestly wasn’t a good answer to those questions, not one that he wouldn’t have to sweeten and frame as carefully as possible. ‘We all are, one way or another’ the tablet said, and then Isaac erased the message so that he could continue the conversation. Maybe a little truth would help here, and so he typed out ‘Even me’ before tapping the play button once more. ‘This isn’t your world anymore, but I can tell you about the world that is. And I can take you there, once we’re done.’ The pause that followed that statement seemed to go on forever, and for a moment Isaac thought she had been scared off by the very idea of being helped along. He was just about to drop his tablet on the counter in defeat when the ghost scrawled ‘Okay’ on the board. He could work with that, and maybe, just maybe he could get them out of here before they entirely destroyed the apartment. Maybe was good enough for now.

#sost:accepted