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josephquinnswhore · 1 year

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At Her Mercy

Pairing: Simon “ghost” Riley x Fem! Reader

Summary: you’re needed to help guide the task force 141 group, when you meet ghost, it would tear open your wounds.

Word Count: 6.7k

Content Warning: mentions of murder, childhood abuse, physical violence, ghosting, heartless reader, typical cod violence, child death, bit of physicality between ghost and reader. Ptsd. No happy ending.

Note: I have a lot of requests and I’m sorry I just have so much Simon brain rot I need to get this out of my system. Sorry this is angsty. May be open for p2 idk lol.

You try not to linger around the grave too long after having sat here for 23 minutes, the longer you sat the longer it usually was harder for you to walk away. You couldn’t afford that attachment today; you had a plane to catch. Time didn’t stop for you, the world didn’t stop spinning and you knew you’d have to trudge through the metaphorical mud you often got stuck in again once you’d left; leaving was always the hardest part.

The clock on your wrist didn’t slow for you, the hands tick with each passing second you spent knelt into the unkempt overgrown grass at the cemetery. The headstone was old, in desperate need of a pressure wash to restore it’s original state. The arch shaped stone seemed to stand strong in the structure itself, your fingers had swiped the cobwebs off the top and base of the stone, clearing any critters that tried to make this memorial their home.

You knew you shouldn’t have purchased a whole bouquet of flowers, the bunch of red and orange flowers sat at the base where you’d carefully placed them upon your arrival, a mix of his favourite colours. You’d even purchased him a small gift, a hot wheels car, a red mustang with white stripes across the bonnet. He had always loved cars, playing with them and working on them; he mentioned a dozen times he’d wanted to be a mechanic, now along side him in his coffin; lie his dreams. A life unfulfilled and cut short at no fault of his own. It had been 10 years and 7 days; December 18th was the day your semi-normal but functioning life was stripped away; the day he was taken from you.

“Sorry I couldn’t come see you last week kid, I know I always make sure but things got-complicated. Hope you’ll forgive me.”

Things were definitely complicated. You were contacted by General Shepherd, you knew of him; being he was in charge of several units across the United States Military, including your section. He had a lot of contacts and if you worked for him; there was nothing about you he didn’t know. He directly had asked you to come and command the task force 141 team, alongside a man named Captain John Price.

“John Price is a good man and a damn good Captain.” Shephard stated, hanging off his last word on the laptop he’d called you on, his face could barely look at the camera.

“But?” You question impatiently.

“We fear he may’ve gone soft on the men here. We could use your..” he trails off, looking for the right word to use. “Resourcefulness and ruthlessness.”

“Do you think I’m ruthless, General?” You deadpan. His face pixilated as the wifi on your end fails to keep up.

“I’ve heard many a stories about you, Captain. Plane leaves in two days. John Price will meet you upon your arrival.”

“Copy that. I’ll be in touch General.” You shut your laptop screen, the call automatically ending as it meets the keypad.

You check your watch once more, the action becoming more frequent as the minutes passed, knowing you were cutting it close to missing the plan which left in half an hour to your new workplace.

“Sorry kid I better get going. I miss you everyday, still keep you near to my heart.” Your fingers trace the small ‘m’ letter necklace, the simple silver letter was attached to a small-link chain. Something that spent more time by your bedside table than around your neck these days-something you were ashamed to admit. The small trinket was one of the few items you owned of his, you tried to keep his memory alive as your brain often forgot what he looked like, the sound of his voice and laugh. The day you received this gift was one you’d remember until you died. You pull your mask up to cover the bottom half of your face, reaching underneath your eyes, closing yourself off and your vulnerability.

Christmas Day was always hectic in the household; spending time with your husbands family, his brother and wife, your nephew who was practically your own son.

“Hey, hey! I give up, put me down!” The boy giggled through his fit of laughter, short brown hair brushing the floor as you held him upside down.

“Gotta say the word otherwise you don’t tap out!” You manage through your own burst of laughter, his parents watching on with their own smiles, your husband watches you with a fondness and hope for your own children someday.

“Mercy! Mercy!” The boy squeals, finally. You set him down on the carpet gently, once he stands his cheeks are red and freckles are visible now more than normal.

He walks to the heavily decorated Christmas tree, bends down and precisely plucks a small, messily wrapped gift and hands it to you with a shy smile. The yellow Christmas lights shine in his blue eyes as he watches you expectantly, waiting for you to accept the gift. The first thing you notice is the outrageous amount of tape that secured the wrapping paper, the second was his messy hand writing that had scribbled your name, with a love heart next to his, you tear off the note and secure it in your pant pocket, too valuable not to keep.

“Do you think you can help me open it? I might need your big muscles to help unravel all this tape. Whaddya say?” He grins, nodding, helping you claw at the tape he had fervently taped last night after his parents had finally lent him some money he’d been begging for weeks.

Once the paper is gone, it’s exposed. The small white cardboard top that covered a black velvet box; the brand of a well known jeweller splayed in a cursive font on the box in silver. “This is so sweet!” You hum, completely delighted before you get the chance to even open the gift.

“Just wait till you open it! I think it’s neat.” He boasts proudly. You open the box, a small silver letter ‘m’ shines back at you, casting your reflection in the cursive letter. Before you can question him, he’s already starting to explain.

“It’s for Mercy, it’s something that reminds me of you when you’re not here. We always have so much fun playing together and I hope you like it.”

The tears in your eyes are fluent, your mouth is wet as you fill to the metaphorical brim of the cup with emotion, about to overflow. “Like it? Are you kidding, I love it. I promise we’ll come see you more often okay?”

“Yeah, that would be so neat!”

The memory replays as you’re sitting in the taxi to the Military airport, a junction that’s privately owned and used by few occupants that require urgent travel. The plane is being boarded with flight crew when you arrive; the army plane was one of many you’ve seen before; the dark grey would be a blip in the perfectly blue sky, like the little boy on your mind; his absence was your loss; your dark grey blip.

“Captain, please, let us take care of your luggage. Board the plane swiftly as we are on time and due to depart in 10 minutes.” You offload your giant luggage bag to a low ranking worker, his uniform clear indication he was what the higher ups call a shitkicker, or rookie. They were generally to stupid-or immature to be anything more than a servant, someone to fetch and do basic physical training until they were filtered out; booted or into the military as a low ranking soldier.

“Thanks kid.” You offer the younger man, kindness wouldn’t hurt with the rookies, you’ve been there and were there for two years-they were a necessity in the industry, without them there would be no new soldiers, no people to do the dirty work, like cleaning the toilets and washing the bedsheets.

The inside of the plane was nothing fancy, while it’s seats were mildly stiff and there was a lingering smell of cigarette smoke you didn’t complain, it was better than being seated where the low ranking soldiers were strapped, in the back of the aircraft with the luggage and whatever cargo they were shipping to the next location.

“Anything to drink, madam?” You look up to meet the eyes of a tired stuartess.

“Got any whiskey?” She nods politely and you pull the plastic tray down that’s attached to the seat in front.

“How would you like that made madam?” She’s pouring from a glass bottle, by the look of the honey coloured liquid, it was expensive.

“On the rocks, prepare me a second. Better make it a double.” You grab the drink, throwing it back and swallowing it in one go, the bitterness burned going down your throat, followed by tones of malt and honey.

You hand the glass back to the middle aged woman, she prepares you a double as you ask and you set the cup in front of you.

“If you need our assistance please don’t hesitate to ask, enjoy your flight.”

“Yeah, thanks.” Your voice is rough, the whiskey was harsh on your throat, despite the sweet after taste, it was harsher than you were used to, the ice adding a coolness that made your teeth sensitive with every sip of the liquid.

You pull out a small baggie from your top right pocket of your dark uniform, two small white rounded pills sit at the bottom of the small ziplock plastic bag. You fish out the pills, your fingers a decent size too big for it to be an effortless task. Getting disgruntled and sick of waiting another minute, you tip the baggie upward and crane your neck back into the seat, the two pills falling from the bag onto your tongue. The powdery residue on your tongue is bitter and unpleasant, you don’t take another second to pick up your glass and swallow the pills.

After a few years of using the sleeping pills, you’ve gained a small tolerance, it takes close to 15 before your eyelids start fluttering, the loudness of the aircraft starts to drown out, all the emotion from the gravesite seems to fade away as you fall out of consciousness, you would enjoy the peace as it came; no nightmares, no pain, just blissful ignorance.

You wake just as the plane lands on the runway, the loud screeching of the rubber tyres hitting the tar at great speed. To speed up the process of waking up, you gulp down the last of your whiskey, the beverage barely relieving the dry mouth the pills had caused you on a daily basis. You clear your throat and lick your lips, looking around at the view outside of the moving scenery as the plane circles around to its final stop, where two military grade unimogs full of soldiers await your arrival.

You adjust your black mask, the material clings tight to your chin as it drapes down your neck. A man approaches you as you walk down the giant ramp of the aircraft, the noise ceasing as the engines come to a halt, the blades rotating slowly as they realise their journey has ended. The man stands a few inches taller than you, his brown mutton chops frame his face, blue eyes piercing you with a friendly look that makes you uneasy, the crows feet around his eyes are a knowing sign of his stress. You don’t even want to get started on that stupid hat.

“John Price, Captain John Price. Nice to finally meet your acquaintance.” You shake his extended hand firmly. Believing all you need to know in a person is all in the handshake; take Price for example, he’s firm, friendly, a business man, his hand doesn’t linger for longer than it needs to.

“You can call me Mercy. Glad to finally meet you Captain Price. Shepherd hasn’t informed me much of your men, I hope they’re up to standard.” You begin to walk to the truck, Price has his men load your luggage into the back.

“I firmly believe they are, Captain.” He holds the door open for you to sit in the backseat, an unusually kind gesture for someone you just met.

“Guess we’ll see about that.” You deadpan bluntly. You had seen your fair share of failures in your time, leaders who weren’t harsh enough on their men, who didn’t correct their mistakes or claimed to be a family unit. You hated that dynamic, you weren’t here to build a family or make friends. You were placed here to help the men of this task force with their dedicated mission and get the fuck back to your own unit, you had your own men that relied on you.

“Hope you don’t mind the introductions will be made off base this evening.” You raise an eyebrow, turning to the man beside you.

“Is that so? Where exactly will this off base location be? Is the area secure, will you have men patrolling the area?” These are all necessary questions and this man had looked at you as if you had two heads, which answered your questions for you.

“We can have it arranged Ma’am.” You hum in distaste.

“It would want to be arranged, I don’t leave base unless I know myself and my men are safe. I’m sure you understand Captain.” You already showed no fondness to the man who was supposed to be leading a task force, how incompetent were the men he were in charge of if the Captain himself didn’t pre-organise this off base meeting.

The base was small, a dozen buildings, one awfully large one in which you would assume was medical. One in which you would hope is medical. The trucks come to a stop, you’re grateful for your mask that filters the dust in which stops you from inhaling the swirling storm of dust as you open the door. Your boots leave an indented footprint on the beige dust, the grass growing in patches and the buildings invaded with overgrown weeds that haven’t been touched in what you’d assume were years.

“If you’ll follow me ma’am, I’ll show you around base.” You pull out the small notepad and pen, scribbling down how someone needs to hire a damn maintenance man to clean the weeds and mow the grass.

You come to the largest building which is attached to the other smaller ones in a large D shape. As you walk in, the room is outdated and the stench makes your nose scrunch in disgust under your mask.

“Captain what the fuck is that obnoxious smell?” Price turns to you, slowing his pace to match your own as you look into the windows of the old, outdated rooms, trying to figure out where the smell is coming from.

“This is the mess hall, we used to have people cook for us but they were all fired when the government stopped extra curricula funding.” You frown, speeding your pace through the dirty halls of the building.

“Why hasn’t it been cleaned, or demolished?” You finally exit that part of the building. Price doesn’t have an answer for you. You write some notes in your notepad about the foul stench and lack of use for that building, writing demolish with question marks and drawing a big circle around it.

“This is where we sleep, we have a dozen men on base at the moment, myself and 3 others are the task force 141 team you’ll be working closely with, your room is this one right here.”

You come to a stop, room 5F. He hands you the key, putting a spare in his pocket. Your luggage is sitting outside the door already.

“Keeping the spare key for any particular reason?”

“For emergencies only, we’ve had an incident where someone had a heart attack and locked themselves in. He passed away before we could get to him. Just a precaution, that’s all.”

The room is stuffy when he opens the door, the single bed is topped with a 4 inch mattress and one old flimsy blanket and a flat pillow, you’re grateful you brought your own bedding.

“If you need anything give me a buzz, I’ll text you the address of the bar tonight.” He gestures to a small piece of paper on the wall, sticky taped on all four sides. Written Prices name and mobile number.

“Right. Thanks.” You drag your luggage in from outside the door, the wheels are loud on the floor as it squeaks. You begin to unpack your things, deciding to put up the image of your nephew on the bedside table, having cropped out your ex-husband from the image to show the two of you, an image from your last birthday you spent with him.

“I want a corner piece please, please!” The boy pleas, his love for the crispy par burnt edges of your birthday cake were his favourite. You slice him up a large piece, swiping your finger in the delicious yellow frosting that topped his oversized piece. You lean into him and wipe it on his face, earning a groan of protest from him as he retreats from you.

“I’m trying to eat it, not wear it!” You laugh, cutting your family each a slice of the cake your brother-in-laws wife had made. The sunflowers were handcrafted with such delicacy you were saddened to cut into them-let alone eat them.

“Alright, alright, I guess I can leave you unbothered. But just for the moment.” You push his arm with your own gently in a playful manner.

To your surprise, he pulls out a sunflower from beside the seat he sits on, you set the cake down and grasp the flourishing flower, inspecting the beauty and vibrancy of the perfectly bright yellow petals, it had been picked perfectly. Tears pricked your eyes as you held the flower.

“God kid, you know how to make me cry dontcha?” He grins, his mouth full of chocolate mud cake, “good tears, right?” You smiled at your nephew and he smiled back, “right.” Unbeknownst to you in that moment-your brother in law had snapped an image.

A picture you held dear to your heart, and now bedside. You manage to pull yourself away from the image-a painful memory in which all of him had become, yet you had to preserve as there was no one left that would do so. You refused to let his memory die.

You pull your mask down as you near the sink, a crusty mirror hangs above it, barely clear enough for you to see yourself as much more than a blur. You reapply the black paint to your face as some unwelcome tears had fallen and dropped down your cheeks, ruining the pigment of the paint. You brush your teeth, turning the tap on to see a musty brown coloured water before it turns clear, note to self, don’t drink the water unless it’s bottled.

You apply some deodorant before pulling your mask back upward, your hot breath is once again trapped in the confines of the mask as you close yourself off. Your phone vibrates on the bed and you check it’s a text from Price confirming the location of the ‘meeting’. More like a typical military piss up, these men will find any excuse to drink.

Price: “Bar at 112 West Highland Road. Neon green sign out front, be blind to miss it.”

You: “Got it. Be there soon.”

The bar was quieter than you expected, sure it had a few typical rowdy drinks, but nothing like any of the chaos you’d experienced in America. It doesn’t take long for you to spot Price, your eyes scanning every face in the room as if you’ve got facial recognition in your brain, just in case you need to remember. Price stands from his seat, 3 other men sit with him, one is significantly larger than the rest, he’s wearing a black hoodie and jeans, the rest you don’t see as he’s turned towards the bar.

You stand tall as you approach them, people moving out of your way as you barge into their shoulders roughly.

“Glad you could join us tonight. This is the rest of the team, Gaz, Soap and Ghost.” He points to his men and you shake the hand of Gaz first, “nice meeting you Gaz.” He’s got a bright smile that you find hard not to reciprocate.

“I’m John McTavish but you can call me Soap, ma’am.” You raise an eyebrow, two johns? Seriously? You shake his hand, “I’ll keep that in mind, Soap.”

The last man you approach is large, he’s tall and a black baklava with a skull print covers his face. His hoodie is pulled up and a black substance covers his eyes, his blonde lashes untouched as they poke through, his blue eyes are piercing as they stare through you. “Ghost eh, interesting. I like the look.” He looks you up and down before nodding. “Appreciated Captain.” He sets his drink down on the bar and you take a seat in between him and Soap, there feels something familiar about his accent, those beaming blue eyes and blonde eyelashes, but you chalk it up to him being British. “Call me Mercy.”

“How’d ya come up that callsign?” Soap inquires. You exhale deeply, this was going to be a long night.

“Before I answer any damn questions, I need a drink.” The bartender took your order, within the minute you had the drink sitting in front of you, pleading for you to drink it so it could take your pain away for you, deal with the guilt and memories you found to traumatic to continue to think about.

You take a sip and smack your lips. “It was an inside thing between my nephew and I, the name kinda just stuck.”

You finished off your drink and slid it back to the bartender who gave you a refill as you asked. “You got family back home then?” Gaz questions.

Thank god for the refill. “Negative. All deceased.” The men went quiet and you sip on the liquid, it warms you from the inside out, taking away the guilt and stripping you down to where you had no emotion on the topic. They murmur apologies and you feel ghosts gaze on you, his eyes felt dark and sinister, like he was distant from his physical body, he didn’t really feel there.

“You ever marry?” You grit your teeth, your jaw is clenching so hard you can almost feel your teeth grinding. The mention of your husband boils your blood, but also breaks your heart into a million shards.

“Still married, technically. Piece of shit ghosted me when things got hard, haven’t seen him since. First thing I’ll do if I ever see that sorry bastard is serve him the divorce papers I’ve been carrying for half a decade. Cant change my last name without the divorce being finalised.”

You throw your neck back as you finish off your second glass of whiskey. Your bladder feeling full from the beverage, your mind hazy and spinning already, the talk of your husband is making your head ache. You pull of your ID and card, throwing it onto the bench for the bartender, “excuse me a moment while I use the restroom, prepare another drink for when I get back would you?”

The bartender watches you hesitantly and mutters, “sure.”

The bartender tossed your cards back to the bench in front of you, attempting to sit them where you left them, seemingly throwing it too far as your ID rolls off the bar onto the floor beside your stool legs. Soap mutters, “fuckin idiot.” As he picks up your card, setting it back upright in front of your drink, noticing the last name, he does a double take. He thinks his eyes are deceiving him when he sees your last name- Riley. This surely is just a coincidence, right?

“Eh Lt, you seen this lass’ last name, might be a relation to you.” Ghost turns to soap, irritated by his shenanigans, but glances towards the card anyway and can’t take his eyes away from it. He sees you- her. His wife. It’s her face and her name, how did you get this? His wife hated the military, war and fighting, she would never join it, let alone become a Captain of her own army.

He felt his blood boiling, the alcohol in his blood seemed to fuel the fire swirling in his stomach. How wife was killed that night along with the rest of his family- it made him sick to his stomach having to think you could try and come into this talk force and betray him.

“You alright Simon?” Prices voice is unheard, the noise of the bar and the photo of his wife’s face brings back too many painful memories for him to focus on the reality. Memories that plagued his nightmares- of you and him.

“What do you think Si?” She twirls in the blue sundress for him as her hair falls over her shoulders, he can only smile at the sight of her, her beauty was immeasurable to him-incomparable. He had never felt this way before about anyone. In that moment, he remembers how perfect he thinks she would’ve looked swollen with his child.

His hands snaked their away around her waist, pulling her into his body. “You know I think you look fuckin’ perfect baby, always perfect.” She rolls her eyes at his compliment.

“This is a serious matter you know! It’s a wedding, people will be taking pictures that last many lifetimes, you look so handsome and I have to match it.” He remembers cradling her face, forcing her to look him in his eyes, “you look better than I ever could, baby.”

She smiled but shook her head, “no one could ever be more handsome than my husband.” She rubbed her hands up and down his white long sleeve button up shirt, smoothing out the collar which barely had a wrinkle in it post ironing.

“What’d I ever do to deserve you hm?” His voice was a quiet whisper, she’d worked through previous hardships, his struggles and scars she had kissed better and even attempted to stitch up when he’d come home because he blatantly refused to let anyone else touch his body. She had been there through the worst of it, helped him through his family troubles, stayed after he applied for the military and stayed up during the nights he had nightmares, his ptsd was severe for months on end when he first signed up.

“You deserve me Si, more than anything you deserve me.”

“Ghost?” Soaps hand was on his shoulder, shaking him out of his hazy memories of his old wife.

“Need a minute outside.”

As he pushes through the large crowd, he finds you already outside, smoking a cigarette that blows large clouds through the cool night air. You pull down the bottom of your mask, not wanting to be exposed to the larger man. He towers over you, something about his size and silence is both terrifying and has you feeling safe.

“Don’t like people seein’ your face?” You’re surprised when he asks, having not said much to you this evening.

“No one but myself has in a long time.” He leans up against the brick wall, standing too close for your liking beside you.

“You ever get sick of it?” You turn to him, squashing your cigarette underneath your boot, the red light fizzling out on the damp cement.

“Sick of what exactly?” You turn to him, an arm on your hip.

“Bein’ a snake, pretendin’ to be someone you’re not.” This makes you frown, your impatience coming in at an all time high, blood pressure rising as this man insults you.

“If you’ve got something to say, Ghost, I suggest you spit it out.” You snap accusingly, pointing at his chest as you stand tall, keeping eye contact and not intimidated by what he’s doing. You take a step closer and he comes off of the brick wall, standing a foot in front of you.

“You’re the enemy, have to be smarter than to use an ID of someone who is dead!” He snarls, his voice is booming as he swings at you, his fist connects with your stomach and it sends you sliding backwards on the wet cement. You exhale, steadying your breathing after the hit. You lunge towards him, ducking at the last second to avoid is hands trying to grab you, you kick as his knees and one falters, nearly bringing him to the ground, you had quickly figured out his weakness.

He levels himself on his leg, watching you with a look so furious in his eyes you want nothing more than to erase the look from your mind, if you had to accomplish that with violence-so be it.

He pulls out his knife from his boot, you scowl as he does so, “fucking coward, fight like a man!” You yell at him, he ignores you and charges like a raging bull, heavy footsteps slow in comparison to your nimble movements which allows you to narrowly avoid the knife he aimed to plunge into your ribs.

You pulled out your own knife, “wanna fucking okay dirty hm? Come on then you fucking prick! I’m not scared of you, I eat shitheads like you for fucking dinner.” You’re eyeing each other off, circling like predator and prey, although no one knows who is which yet. The rain makes it difficult to see, the drops falling onto your mask make it more difficult to breath through. Through the scuffle part of your hair had fallen out of its plait, the strand of hair irritating and blinding you as it sits in front of your eyes.

“Fuck it.” You growl lowly, tearing off your mask as you cut it with your knife, all while avoiding a blow from Ghosts forward attack, you pull your hair backwards and tuck it behind your ear.

The man freezes in place, his movements stop entirely, the knife falling from his hands, clattering onto the wet sidewalk. As he sees her-you, his wife. Your face is more matured, it’s grown into its features and you have a sternness he doesn’t recognise, eyes as cold as stone as you watch him fall apart before you. He notices a giant scar along your nose that has never been seen before.

“It can’t be, you’re dead, you died-“ he trails off, eyes wide as he watches you like a Hawk.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” You growl, confused and still pent up from the fight.

He doesn’t say anything, he doesn’t mutter a single word, he barely finds the strength to lift his hands to the bottom of his baklava and pulls it off his face, revealing himself for the first time in over a decade. He felt himself crumbling, so vulnerable and exposed to the world, his world-you. His wife and the woman he loved so much-loves.

You stutter for a moment before your face hardens again, you storm forward and shove him, your fists hit his chest so many times you can’t count, he doesn’t react, he just stands like a punching bag for you to let out your Pent up anger. You pull away from him, the thought of touching him and him touching you, made you nauseous.

“You piece of shit! You left me! For better or worse my fucking ass!” You pace the sidewalk, kicking the trash can as a decades worth of emotions come crashing down on you. “You weren’t even there for the funeral Simon! Have you even visited them? Since they’ve died, have you? I see Joseph whenever I get the chance.”

Tears are falling down your face at the thought of him, your nephew Joseph.

“Don’t talk about him.” Simon growls, obviously still a soft spot for him. You roll your eyes, “I thought you were fucking dead with them! When I ran through that house and didn’t find you I thought they’d taken you to fucking get back at me! I chased every piece of intel for years on end trying to find you.” He steps towards you, his big chest heaving. The street lamp above you shines above him, his face looking more scarred and handsome as ever.

“I killed every damn one of those motherfuckers and you were still nowhere to be found. I dedicated the past decade of my life trying to find you and you’re in the fucking military, alive and fine.”

You slap him across the face at his accusation.

“If you think this is me fine Simon Riley, you’re stupidly fucking mistaken. Now get the fuck out of my face! I’m your Captain, you’re dismissed! Get the fuck out of my sight.”

You storm away from him, sheathing your knife into your leg harness. Once you were far away enough and sure he couldn’t see you, you slipped on your mask and sobbed, uncontrollably against the wall of a building in the street, forgetting about the bar, the team and the ID you’d left behind. Screw all that, in the morning you were going home. The rain poured on you, your uniform heavy on your skin as it sticks.

You mindlessly walk until you reach base, not realising how far you’d walked until you ended up standing out the front of your room door with the key in hand ready to unlock the door. You exhale and close the door, removing your mask and grabbing a fist full of wipes to clean the smudged black face paint that had dropped down your neck from the rain and probably your tears. Fuck Simon, you couldn’t stay here, not when he was a constant reminder of the pain, your past was too much to have to relive everyday. The death, blood, the screams, the way he abandoned you.

You sit on the chair beside your desk, grabbing the photograph of you and Joseph before your emotionally exhausted body begins to slump over the desk, eyes fluttering shut before you can remember to take your pills.

You’re preparing Joseph’s things for a bath, his clothes laid down on his bed, his green towel and toothbrush on the bed. You’re about to call him up when you hear the front door bust open.

“Kill every last one of them, I want no survivors. Riley has to pay.” It’s a foreign voice you don’t recognise, the fear of something happening to your family and realising this is the end as they fire the first gunshot. The screams of your brother in law shake the foundation of the house as gunfire rings through the walls, his wife begging through her sobs for these men to stop, “we’ll do anything, please!”

Her pleas are ignored and she too is gunned down, silence fills the house, you sneakily hide in the bedroom closet in Joseph’s room, the door thankfully making no noise as you close the door shut, the old hinges working a charm for the first time ever. You can barely see anything through the tiny cracks of the closet door, the moonlight coming through the window is the only thing you see.

You hear footsteps running down the hall to your direction and you try to even your ragged breathing, you hear more footsteps running up the stairs, the thundering noise beats in your ears. You hear him crying, sobbing as he calls for help, for you to help him. You’re frozen, trembling in place as the kid stands there alone with a gun pointed to him in his own bedroom.

“He’s just a kid, can’t we leave him?” One man says, the other sneers at him, “boss said all of them, especially the kid.”

“No please!” Joseph begs before he’s gunned down, his blood splatters into the closet cracks and onto your face, you flinch and your eyes are wide as your nephew is ruthlessly murdered in front of you. You were too much of a coward to help him, you are compliant in his death.

The man walks closer to the closet, hand rattling on the closet door knob like he’s going to open it, then the sound of police sirens can be heard coming down the street, they’re coming fast and the red and blue lights are seen through the window, illuminating the room and the dead body but feet away from you.

“Hurry up and let’s get out of here. I ain’t goin to prison!” The hand releases the doorknob and trips over Joseph’s body, running downstairs as they escape the consequences.

Your body is trembling, stuck in a back and forth rock of trying to self sooth but to no avail. Your brain replays the scene over and over, him begging for your help and being shot by a couple thugs in a targeted attack.

“M sorry joey.” Is your mantra, you’re repeating it over and over, what starts as a soft whisper becomes a chant that attracts the police.

“Hey, we got a survivor over here!” The officer calls to his colleagues, trying to pry you from the closet. “What’s your name?” His voice is drowned out by your ears ringing, your dissociated state accompanied by the incoherence nonsense that leaves your lips, “mercy.” You mumble, mercy. That’s what you wanted, hoping the muttered word would stop the pain, stop the cruelty and stop the joke.

But it didn’t. Of course it didn’t.

Your eyes shoot open as you’re gasping for air, the scream that leaves your lips is one of genuine terror, your arms are thrashing and shoving the weight you feel on your arm as someone’s hand.

“It’s me, it’s just me.” You recognise his voice, Simon. Your heart is thumping and you sit up from your spot on the chair, pacing the small area in the room that Simon didn’t occupy.

“You have em too?” Your neck snaps around to Simon, glaring at him through your tears and wet face. “Of course I have them, I hear their screams and see Joseph killed in my head over and over on reply, as if it happened yesterday.”

Simon stumbles backward, shocked by your confession. “You- you saw him..” you rubbed your hands over your eyes. “Yes.” Confirming what Simon would never want to hear from you. You watched your nephew die.

“I don’t want you or need you in here Simon, I need you to leave.” He shuffles on his feet, his eyes torn between you and the photograph of you and his nephew on the table you’d just been cradling.

“If you ever want to talk-“ you cut him off with a scoff, irritated by his presence.

“I don’t. Now get out, I’m fine. I’m not here to make amends with you and sure as hell not trying to be your wife again, Simon. You were a shit husband, now please, get out.” You sigh, sitting on your bed, completely exhausted.

Simons heart shatters at your words, every wall he’s built comes crumbling down at his feet, he’s now left truly alone. The hope of you had kept him going- now what does he have? He simply nods, wanting to respect your needs, when he reaches the door you call his name, he’s hopeful when he turns around to see you barely a foot away when you hand him an envelope.

“Sign the divorce papers Simon. Please.”

It feels like his heart has been stomped on the for third time tonight, you were trying to sever the last connection he had to you, his last name. The only proof he had that you were ever his, that his family existed at all; he holds the papers tight in his hand and walks out of your room, leaving you to take out your pills and swallow them dry, having a sleep that’s uninterrupted by those plaguing nightmares, those pills, your poison, you were at her mercy and Simon was at yours.

#Simon Riley #ghost #Simon ghost Riley #call of duty fic #Simon Riley angst #cod #simon riley imagine #Simon x you #simon riley x reader #simon riley x oc #Simon Riley x mercy

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vampire-meta-knight · 4 months

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Goth DIY: Altered Clothing part 2 (final part)

Part 1

This part will be shorter since we have less to cover. But it's still a long post, so I'm putting it under a cut.

Skirts and dresses! The last two dresses and green skirt took the most sewing, but the first dress was as simple as sewing studs on the neckline. The black velvet skirt was altered a bit more to fit me, as it was originally a skirt that had small pleats at the top that made the skirt cling to my stomach and flare out further down, which wasn't flattering on me, so I cut that part off and added a new waistband to get a circle miniskirt, then added lace trim to the hem for extra cuteness and a fancy touch.

Attaching skirts to a crop top is an easy way to make a dress if you don't want to sew one from scratch, but the waistlines did turn out a little wonky, so I use a belt or cardigan to hide that. I also sew a thin line of elastic onto the skirts to gather them before sewing them to the top to make it a little easier and to maintain stretch, since these dresses just pull on. I also don't hang them by the tops, but by draping them through a hanger to avoid stretching out the tops because the skirts are a little heavy (at least mine are, since I added so much to them).

For the green skirt, I added triangular inserts called "godets" to make the skirt flare out, since it was too tight before and didn't swish. I like a good swish.

The skirt with all the lace and pins and grommets and nonsense was one of my earlier projects, so it has three mistakes which I implore you to avoid. One: I didn't line the fabric loops up with the waistband very well, so they look crudely tacked-on. Two: I didn't add any fray check to the holes I made for the grommets, so they stretched out and the grommets are no longer attached to the fabric, just floating there on the ribbon. Three: I didn't stretch the skirt as I sewed on the lace, so now it doesn't stretch in that area; it still fits my waist, but I have to fight with it to get it over my hips. The design is still cute, but I would definitely do it better if I were to make it nowadays.

The half-and-half skirt only has a small alteration, which was actually to make it fit rather than to change how it looked. You see, sometimes you order something online in the same size you always wear from that brand, and sometimes that thing ends up running small and has no stretch. When that happens, when the skirt almost fits you and is just so close to buttoning all the way, get yourself a waistband extender. I made one, but you can also buy them. It's just a piece of elastic with a button on one side and a button hole on the other. Put that on, and BAM! The skirt (or pants) fit you. They won't quite zip up all the way, and it is a noticeable change, so I made a cute lace-covered patch to cover up that alteration so you can't tell I changed anything about it at all.

Now onto the sweaters. I love wearing sweaters in winter, but there seems to be a shortage of goth ones. Nothing a few safety pins and lace trim can't handle! The first three only have safety pins added to them. The coffin ones were done the same way I did my sweatshirts, but this was before I knew about fusible interfacing for appliques, so they got a little wrinkled and don't look as nice. I have a better method now, as detailed in the post I linked. The fabrics were all Halloween fat quarters from Walmart, and I found a picture of a coffin on Google Images as a base to cut out the right shape.

All of these sweaters were thrifted except the two solid black ones with pins--the first one came from Walmart, and the second one was given to me by my mom. Sweaters are plentiful at thrift stores, and they don't even have to be black to be turned into something goth.

That's all of my altered clothing so far, unless there's anything I'm forgetting! Which there easily could be, because I shared about forty garments O-O

I'll share the jewelry I've made next, and then the clothes I've sewn from scratch! This will come sometime in the future, though, because it took awhile to find everything, take pictures of it, and then write about it. And between you and me, I've made a LOOOOOT of jewelry and clothing, so give me some time. As I said in the last post, feel free to message me if you want more detailed instructions or ideas. I'm always happy to help!

Stay crafty!

#diy advice from your local goth #goth diy #goth diy tutorial #diy tutorial #diy #gothgoth #goth #goth subculture #goth fashion #goth clothing #goth fashion diy #crafting #sewing #mine

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jadeite-art · 3 months

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PotO: Erik's house floor plan (book based)

While there already exists a pretty cool floor plan of Erik's house (this one) it's constructed around the idea that there is a shore or rock formation on which the house is built and that it looks like an actual house. That didn't sit with me as the book clearly says that the house is built inside the double casing of the foundation, so I made my own model. And yes, I totally built it in the Sims.

Things we know from Leroux that helped me build the model:

The placement of the house in between the inner and outer wall of the foundation suggests that it would be roughly rectangle-shaped

There must be some kind of small platform on which you could step out from the boat. A hidden mechanism must then move a part of the wall to reveal the actual door to the house, similar to the entrance from the third cellar

The entrance from the Lake opens directly to the drawing room. I'm no expert on Victorian architecture but it appears to me that a drawing room is basically a living and based on some photos of Victorian houses I saw I concluded that there'd be a fireplace and possibly some shelves for books, even if they are not directly mentioned in the novel. Erik would also surely have a rug. Persian of course ;-)

A door in the drawing room leads directly into the Louis-Philippe room. Connected directly to it there is also an en-suite bathroom. There is also an additional door that supposedly leads to the Torture Chamber. There is a fireplace (Erik/Christine mention the scorpion and grasshopper boxes on the mantelpiece), a bed set, some kind of sofa, and a chest of drawers.

Considering how the Torture Chamber is shaped and what it does, as well as the fact that Daroga is unable to find the hidden latch on the wall that the Chamber shares with Louis-Philippe (the wall on which the peeping window must be located) I concluded that the door mentioned by Christine must actually lead to a sort of oddly shaped room/corridor that goes around the chamber where the heating system and mechanical elements are located (this unfortunately couldn't be properly rendered due to the limitations of the game). From there you can access the actual Chamber by pushing a plain frameless door. Since it opens inwards and has no handles, in order to open it from the Chamber, you'd have to resort to some kind of spring system as described in the book.

We know that the dining is accessed from the drawing room. Considering it's the dining, it must also be connected to a kitchen and pantry from which, I'd assume, one could access the cellars with wine, water, and whatever else Erik might keep in there

After dinner, Erik takes Christine's hand and shows her his room. There is no mention of them first going back to the drawing room. That led me to believe that the door to Erik's room is located in the dining room. The drawing room has enough doors as is anyway.

Leroux mentions a pipe organ that takes up an entire wall. I know organs are large but I think it would be the narrower one. Then we have the coffin in the middle (unfortunately the Sims didn't have anything I could use as the canopy), a desk the exact location of which is unknown but I'd place it near the organ, possibly some wardrobe or chest of drawers, and probably a door to another en-suite bathroom as I imagine he wouldn't be using the one attached to the Louis-Philippe.

If you like the model feel free to use it / reference it in your fanart or fanfic :-)

#poto #phantom of the opera #leroux phantom #erik house #erik poto #phantom house #gaston leroux

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boyfridged · 6 months

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if you got complete control over DC and got to write a Jason solo comic, how would you go about it? or like what would be the story??

you're indulging me!

well, my first preference would probably be writing a jason-never-died elseworld and this is what i'm doing with my series robin vol 2. or something like 80s retroactive but longer, so essentially a robin jay series that we were robbed of.

but i'm presuming you are asking about what i would do with the main timeline... i guess if you've been following me for a while, nothing on this list will come as a surprise, because it's simply a combination of my own meta dressed in plot points... i'm just not sure how i would organise it, since i mostly think about these in terms of fanfiction, so it's a bit fragmented in my head. but i think it would be doable to combine those:

addressing the current mess in canon: unavoidable. i always imagined (and by always i mean i've had that image in my head for at least 5 years now) if i were to write a comicbook script for jay i would start with the classic simple layout showcasing the more sunny (early days robin jay's) version of gotham but with panels shaped like shattered glass imposing on it, displaying different contradicting pieces of canon and culminating with the question of who *the real* jason todd is, as a nod to countdown asking the same. dc actually attempted to do something when the infinite frontier was first introduced, it just wasn't very well executed... (and as far as i know the hypertime is still supposed to be relevant so it would work...)

since i already started talking about countdown it could also contain some multiversal insight into all the other worlds in which jason todd is alive.

or maybe an idea i once dropped here, with the mystical serpentine of magical fog (the one from the lost days and the end of the utrh when jason presumably is brought back to life once again) traveling through the scenes of flashbacks of other characters (perhaps even just a reflections of retcons!) tarnishing jason's memory when he's dead, cut to kid jay literally stirring in the coffin, and finally an adult jason waking up with a jolt in the final scene. so many options.

you get the image. i wish that dc utilised the weirdness of the meta in a serious way, and that the talk of the past was a talk of the history of comics in a sense... as i previously expressed here.

as you all know by now my reading of jason (and batman in general even) is mostly based on the 80s... and so it would be a love letter to this era. i would definitely want to include some robin jay stories there as well, maybe make jason investigate cases that date back to his childhood and are somehow interconnected, creating a bridge between the narratives and reconciling them.

ending what i call the long funeral - jason's era of remaining dead both socially and to the narrative. what i have in mind is an arc in which he is working on a case that seems to have to do with magic/ghosts, but that ultimately turns out to be a case of corruption and plain police brutality. two things here: i would want him to fuck up spectacularly so that he starts questioning his modus operandi and dedication to vigilantism in general. and it would set up the ground for the introduction of abolitionism and link the story to his early ethical framework.

a retirement arc. jason's proper come back to the crime alley and reintroduction to the land of living (the alley might be a graveyard to bruce but it's a home to jason...) and very importantly, a cast of civilians! leslie is definitely back. i would also love to use dana & denise, and maybe even some pre-crisis characters.

i would fridge bruce. put him out of commission basically, death or not. and i'm not saying batman jay era but actually i am saying batman jay era. (i once again can't find a link to the post explaining my bat jay agenda but if it's of your interest i can elaborate.)

a two-face story. about forgiveness or rather about the fact that it never quite passed. and about willis.

the themes... the motifs... you know me. ouroboros and self-mythologization and the sacrifice and catholicism (probably not in a way you think) and family duty. and politics. here you can also guess what i'm thinking about, and it's a revolutionary abolitionist turn.

and to conclude: big words but i would use jason to bring love back to the gotham lore and batman titles in general. he is a character that has always stood in the centre of both values and challenges that the story faced. if he's not treated with consideration and not taken seriously, nothing in it is.

#outbox #i might have answered similar questions before. but probably on my old blog so i can't find it.#anyway. thank you for this lovely question!#jay.zip

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brxkxnhxxrtsclxb · 3 months

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hi :3

i’m making this post to ask if anyone knows where i can get skulltimate secrets 1 draculaura ?? i’m US based if that helps

i’ve recently gotten SS2 fearidescent drac and goreganizer so i’m really happy about that ^_^ i love the coffin shaped locker and organizer. it just really speaks to me♡

anyway having SS2 (contemplating SS3 neon frights) really made me wanna have SS1 mostly for her accessories (WE NEED MF’ing FASHION PACKS MATTEL), but sadly the first drac is so overpriced ://

i wanna say maybe it’s cuz mattel is phasing out this line but for some reason the other ghouls aren’t as overpriced?? if anything they’re well within retail price… is it just because it’s draculaura?? is this why she’s overpriced ?? do i have to somehow fight sellers to bring down her price ?? cuz i don’t wanna do that either sksk

but yeah, if anyone can reply and let me know as to why dracula is so expensive, please do so !! any insight, even if it’s just a personal theory, helps !!

(forgive me for the different names. i tend to shift around a lot in calling draculaura drac or just dracula >.<)

#monster high #monster high g3 #monster high gen 3 dolls #draculaura #monster high skulltimate secrets #skulltimate secrets

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host-club-hq · 2 years

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Indeed: ~Until the Day It Becomes a Pumpkin!~

➼ pairing: kyoya ootori x reader

➼ summary: kyoya may be new to relationships, but he should know that couples' costumes are a must on the famous spooky holiday... even if the rest of the Host Club is matching with you, as well.

➼ word count: 5.2k

➼ what to expect: "Get your hands out of my mouth!"

➼ warnings: slight angst

➼ chapter navigation

➼ talk to my characters!

Under cover of moonlight, shielded by the dense trees above, a horse-drawn carriage travels endlessly down a lonely, winding dirt path in the dead of night. The coachman gently flicks the reigns, gloved hands gripping onto them tightly as his cape flutters in the oncoming wind—the horse whinnies.

At the stroke of midnight, the carriage would change back into a pumpkin. But this particular spell wasn't cast by a fairy godmother.

But that isn't to say that the caster doesn't have a flair for dramatics and a certain love for theatrical behavior.

"Why must Tamaki pick one of the most complicated costume choices?" Kyoya lifts his garment with a grimace, eyes scanning over all of the intricate pieces that go along with it.

You unsheathe your own costume, blinking in slight awe at the sheer regality and magnitude of the details. Tamaki really knows how to pick 'em.

"It is the most seductive of male costume choices along the lines of mythical creatures... I'd say it was a genius choice." You snicker, draping your dress over a full-body mannequin.

This year, Tamaki has sent the Host Club home with their costumes the day before the event in which you're supposed to wear them. But, of course, your father would have a fit if he knew you were playing dress-up with Kyoya. So, you've both decided on your usual spot: the Ootori Estate.

"I guess you're right..." Kyoya unpacks his case of accessories and pulls out a case shaped like a coffin that fits in the palm of his hand.

"He expects us to wear... fangs? Oh, you've got to be kidding me." He tosses them beside him on the sofa haphazardly.

"Live a little, Kyoya." You roll your eyes, dusting off the skirt of your vampire queen gown. The base is a dark, blood red with intricate black lace over top. A corset top piece slims the waist and forces the costume upright. You reach into your accessory case and retrieve an intricate, extravagant necklace decorated with shining rubies that match perfectly. You hang it around the mannequin's neck and clasp it in place. You exhale on one of the rubies, wiping it clean with your sleeve and stepping back to admire your work.

"So you're the vampire queen? Does that make you Tamaki's queen?" Kyoya rolls his eyes to himself, retrieving a male mannequin and dressing it with his costume.

You snicker, "Oh, he wishes. I'm sure he'll act like it, but it only lasts one day." You shrug.

Kyoya hums to himself, adjusting his costume's regency victorian era tie. You catch a glimpse of him from the corner of your eye, watching as he works with furrowed brows, jaw muscles working.

"Something wrong?" You raise a knowing brow.

"No. Why would something be wrong?" Kyoya shrugs to himself, aggressively fiddling with the collar of his costume.

"What? You want me to be your vampire queen? Is that it?" You snicker, propping your hands on your hips.

"I never said that." Kyoya shakes his head.

"But you implied it~" You sing teasingly. You pull out your own case of artificial fangs and inspect them.

Kyoya scoffs, "Whatever. I don't need your agreement."

You laugh, "Pouty today, aren't you?" You pluck out a fang, and the paired ingestion-safe adhesive included.

"I don't pout." He grumbles.

You both step back and admire your costumes side by side. Then, you tilt your heads in sync, both imagining what each of you would look like wearing them.

"Probably the closest we'll get to couples costumes during club hours." You groan.

"Couples costumes? Do you like that stuff?" Kyoya cocks a brow with curiosity.

"Sure. I may not be terribly eager to do it, but I think it would be fun... why, do you not?" You pause mid-step toward your costume to peer back at him.

"I wouldn't object." Kyoya shrugs, crossing his arms.

"Well, unfortunately, we'd have to do that on our own time. Can't have your guests suspecting something." You chuckle.

Kyoya nods, "I know." He does find comfort in the little notion that you will be matching somewhat for Halloween. However, the rest of the club will be matching with you as well... which is less comforting.

"They'd be a little put off if they knew you were off the market." You tease further.

"I suppose you're right." Kyoya digs out a top hat and inspects it skeptically.

You snicker to yourself, "Did you hear about the twins' class throwing that fright night event? The test of courage thing?" You cross your arms.

"No, sounds idiotic." Kyoya scoffs. You throw yourself onto the sofa beside him with a heavy sigh.

"I know. Haruhi asked me to help them out. Can't imagine why. I'm not even in their class."

"Are you going to?" Kyoya raises his head slightly from the back of the sofa to glance at you curiously.

"Mm, probably. I mean, it'll get me out of Tamaki clinging to my side the entire time he's hosting..." You grumble at the thought.

Kyoya smiles fondly, "Understandable."

You turn toward him excitedly, "What are you doing Halloween night?" You bounce on your knees with glee.

"Nothing I can think of... why?" He eyes you skeptically, eyes narrowed.

"Will you stay up late with me and eat all the candy we can stomach?" You clasp your hands together in a pleading motion.

Kyoya groans, "You know I don't care for sweets." He grumbles, waving you off dismissively.

You cross your arms, sighing with an exaggerated roll of your eyes, "... will you stay up late with me and watch me eat all the candy I can stomach?"

"... fine."

Until the Day It Becomes a Pumpkin

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

The Host Club is now open for business...

Music Room #3 has been completely renovated for the famous spooky holiday. Instead of blooming roses on each table, jack-o-lantern candle holders illuminate teacups and refreshments in the new dark atmosphere.

"Trick or treat, girls. Give me candy, or else your blood." Tamaki truly looks ravishing in his vampire cosplay. Or, you should say, he's going to be doing the ravishing. He's very natural with the vampire's stereotypical accent.

Each host matches him, including you and Kyoya. However, you're dressed in your respective gender's attire. You honestly thought that the corset waist would be more uncomfortable than it actually is. And, the faux fangs are quite stable in your mouth despite speaking and even the occasional bite of food. Although, you find yourself stabbing your lips every now and then, and you can't seem to stop licking your tongue over them.

"Halloween might be a week away officially, but here at the Host Club, we start haunting season a little early."

You tap a canine slightly before licking over it, feeling the sharp point with the tip of your tongue.

"How are you holding up with the fangs? I think they give me a 'lithp.'"

Lisp was the word you were going for there, further proving your point.

Kyoya chuckles, crossing his arms the best he can in his largely collared cape, "I don't mind them. But, I have to admit, your outfit is quite fitting." He nods toward you.

You spin gracefully in your dress. You've paired the look with an intricate updo and sensual, smokey makeup.

"'Thankth.' You don't look 'tho' bad 'yourthelf.'" To be honest, you can barely contain yourself when you catch glimpses of him now and then. The fangs make it challenging to keep your mouth shut, so it's constantly agape and paired with hooded eyes...

You... might be getting a little carried away.

"You look just good enough to eat, my dear." Kyoya tosses a wink your way. Your face is immediately up in flames, creeping up your neck and spreading to your ears.

Someone's got the sexy vampire persona down to an art.

"Hey, I'm not a guest; you can't be pulling crap like that." You snicker, waving an authoritative finger his way.

"Oh, Tamaki, you make such a handsome vampire." A guest swoons.

"Those fangs look real." Another practically falls in love with him on the spot. You mean, you can't blame her.

Tamaki strides toward her, taking her cheek in one palm and angling his lips toward the opposite side of her neck, "May I nibble your lovely neck for a treat?"

She quickly plays along, "Oh, no, you mustn't. You'll have to play a trick on me instead." Pink dusts over the apples of her cheeks as she closes her eyes.

"And indeed I shall." Tamaki teases, sending the guests squealing in no time.

"Oh, me next! Me next! Me next! Me next! Me next!"

The twins and Haruhi slide into view mischievously, dressed in their everyday uniforms instead of their vampire cosplay. "Hello!"

Tamaki glances up from the neck of his flustered guest, "Why are you guys late? Hurry up and change."

With prideful smiles, the twins place a hand on each of their hips, "Sorry, Boss. But from now until Halloween-"

"-Count us out."

"Okay?"

"What?!" Tamaki shrieks.

"Count you out?" Honey whines.

"We're on the preparation committee for a special event. Class 1-A is sponsoring it." The twins clarify in sync when they notice your collective confused glances.

"Duty calls, then." Kyoya sighs, holding his trusty notebook close to him, as always.

"Are you 'guyth' 'theriously' leaving 'uth' for a week without the Brotherly Love package? Damn 'fangth'..." You poke and prod at your teeth to find a favorable angle where you can pronounce your 's's correctly.

"Don't worry, Senpai, you'll be coming with us, of course!" The twins pull you over by your arms.

"... 'thay' what?" You cock a curious brow.

"You promised Haruhi you'd help out!" Hikaru reminds.

"Apparently, I 'wath' not aware that I would be 'abthent' from the 'Hotht' Club for a week." You cross your arms with a pout.

Kyoya takes his fingers and angles your chin upward toward him, glancing through your parted lips and to your fangs, "Hm, maybe these aren't applied correctly." He wonders aloud, oblivious to your profound blush that's starting to prickle at your cheeks.

You nearly squeal when he reaches past your lips and adjusts your fangs, twisting them and shoving them slightly tighter on your canines.

"Get your hands out of my mouth!" You blink, "Hands... hands... oh, hey, you fixed it." You smile appreciatively.

"Stop overreacting, y/n-Senpai." The twins grumble disappointingly at your adamancy to push Kyoya away so quickly.

"Not like you two haven't swapped spit before." Hikaru reminds.

You shudder, "Oh, God, why would you say it like that?" You genuinely want to strangle them to death sometimes.

"I will not have such filthy talk coming out of your mouths! Leave my vampire queen alone!" Tamaki hollers, pulling you by your wrist to his side.

"Be careful, Boss-" Hikaru snickers.

"- you don't wanna invoke the wrath of Kyoya-Senpai." Kaoru finishes mischievously.

Kyoya raises an uninterested brow, "My wrath?" He parrots boredly.

"Anyways, we'll probably be stealing her away at some point!" The twins wave with feigned innocent smiles.

"Good luck without us here for a week." They begin to depart.

"You have fun." Honey waves with a toothy, fanged smile. Tamaki is quick to notice that they're dragging Haruhi with them.

"Hold on! Why is Haruhi going?" His voice shakes.

Hikaru turns over his shoulder with a terrifying dark grin, "Well, Boss, she is in our class, you know."

"Oh. The special event is an after-dark Test-Of-Courage Tournament." Kaoru conveniently remembers that they'd forgotten to disclose that tiny detail.

Tamaki exclaims in horror, "After... dark?" You can see the gears working in his brain as he imagines Haruhi clinging to the devilish twins in fear throughout the tournament.

"Haruhi... You're not going to take part in this, are you?" Tamaki stumbles dramatically.

"For decency's sake, tell me you won't!" Tamaki pleads desperately.

Haruhi raises her hands in defense, "Calm down, Senpai. It's just some harmless fun." She grins. All the while, Hikaru stands behind Haruhi with a hand on her shoulder, an evil grin gracing his features, as Kaoru watches the scene unfold with little to no expression.

"Harmless. She thinks it's- harmless?!" Tamaki fears that she may not understand just what the twins have in store for her.

"Oh, why me?" He wails woefully. He regains his composure and grabs Haruhi by the shoulders, "You don't go! You can't! Daddy doesn't like it."

Your gaze softens, and you gently shift your weight.

This is the magic spell.

The passengers inside the elegant carriage are revealed to be each member of the Host Club, pulled by the coachman, revealed to be Tamaki himself.

We may just be members of a host club- but Tamaki calls Haruhi and I his daughters and imagines us to be members of his family.

"Okay, time to go now," Kaoru announces bluntly.

"Boss, adieu!" The trio disappears through the dark doorway.

"Wait! I could be a valuable asset to the planning committee! Let me come too!" Tamaki begs. But it's too late; the twins have already successfully kidnapped Haruhi for their horror tournament.

A maniacal laugh sounds from a coffin in the corner, startling Tamaki. It swings open to reveal none other than Nekozawa and his Belzenef puppet.

"Nekozawa-Senpai, when did you-?"

"Well, now, isn't this interesting." Belzenef nods in agreement.

You deadpan, "He's in his element this month."

"It would seem so." Kyoya agrees by your side.

"What was that? You think it sounds like fun, Belzenef? You may just be on to something there. If it's fear they want, the Black Magic Club will be happy to oblige. After all, what's Halloween without a healthy dose of pure, unadulterated terror?" Belzenef moves to Nekozawa's words.

With a horror-film-worthy cackle, the coffin swings shut, and Nekozawa disappears just as suddenly as he'd come.

"Why do I have a feeling we'll be participating in this event after all...?" You peek at Kyoya curiously.

"Knowing Tamaki... we'll be participating without a doubt."

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

Just like you predicted... here you are, guided by Nekozawa, on the night of the tournament.

You're standing at the top of the stairs in a dark hallway, supposedly where the twins and Haruhi's team is, including their Class Representative, who seems to be scared soulless by every noise or slight breeze that passes him by. Tamaki crouches behind a hidden wall, fussing with your costume.

You stand in utter confusion, holding a thick plastic skull that you've been given by the Black Magic Club's owner himself. They've put you in a wig of ratty, jet black, disheveled hair and a torn-up old white sheet with makeshift arm holes. You grimace at your own appearance.

"What the hell am I even supposed to be? How did I end up here...?" You grumble, tucking the skull under your arm.

"Be quiet; your cue is soon." Nekozawa hushes you with a sinister grin.

Tamaki pulls you toward him to ruffle your hair, making it more tangled and messy, "Hey! Stop that!" You scold in a harsh whisper, swatting his hand away.

"You need to look scary!" Tamaki reminds with a profound pout.

"Leave it alone."

Down the stairs, you can hear Team B speaking to each other.

"Did you see that? That creepy shadow just now, outside the window?" Haruhi's voice trembles slightly, her expression extremely exasperated.

"Aw, come on! Not you too, Fujioka! Knock it off, would ya?" Their class representative panics loudly.

"Throw the skull!" Nekozawa whispers. You shrug and toss it around the corner and down the steps.

It tumbles down loudly, catching the attention of the entire team as they wordlessly watch it clink down each step and roll to their feet.

They shriek when they realize what it is and that it's not anything they've done.

"No way. It's a sneak attack from those A-team hacks." Kaoru remains on high alert, staring at the skull in utter horror. You find it difficult to keep a laugh to yourself.

"Hey! It's not your turn, guys! Follow the rules~!" Hikaru reminds fearfully, mustering up his strength and punting the skull back up the stairs in retaliation. It ricochets off the walls and nearly hits you and Tamaki both.

You both duck urgently, watching the skull fall limp after it catapults over your heads.

"That's some kick. Might even put yours to shame-"

"That's your cue! Get out there!" Nekozawa shoves you in the direction from which you're supposed to appear.

"Yeah, you show 'em!" Kaoru claps.

You sigh, allowing your upper half to fall limp and your arms drape at the joints, flipping your head over to hide your face with your disheveled wig. You shuffle out from your hiding place as if you had a limp, moaning, "My skull..." You can barely take yourself seriously.

The team of first years freezes immediately, eyes daring to glance up to find you slowly coming to the top of the stairs.

"My skull... my skull." You stop just before the stairs descend, and the clock tower chimes at the opportune moment.

"Could it be... The Clock Tower Witch?" Their class representative trembles violently.

In the most hoarse voice you can manage, "Why did you kick..." You lift your head slowly, craning your neck to allow the wig to fall apart, revealing one of your menacing eyes, "My skull?!" You demand. Your face is painted with red, fake blood, and your complexion is covered in white powder.

Team B shrieks, and the group splits up, making beelines for either opposite direction down the hallway.

You cough, patting your chest, "Oh, God. That hurt." You rub your throat with a frown.

"Good job, y/n! Now, for our next phase!" Nekozawa grabs you by the arm, dragging you off for a costume change.

"Hey, wait-!"

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

Next thing you know, you're back in your vampire queen costume, fangs and all, following Nekozawa at his heels, awaiting his next instruction, "Why am I being dragged every which way for this tournament? I only promised to help."

"Exactly. You're helping with phase two- the trap." Nekozawa chuckles sinisterly.

"A trap? I thought this was a tournament-" All of a sudden, Nekozawa takes you by your shoulders and shoves you out into a hallway. You nearly fall to the floor with a yelp, managing to regain your balance and turning to him furiously.

"What the-"

A shriek comes from behind you, and you turn to find Hikaru sprinting down the hallway haphazardly.

"Whoa, y/n! Watch out!" Before you know it, Hikaru's tripped over a tripwire and triggered a rope-bound cage, springing from the floor and capturing the two of you in its confines. You grunt, eyes shut tightly, bracing for impact. Finally, you manage to wrap your fingers around a knot in one of the holes, attempting to hoist yourself up.

Hikaru manages to open his eyes, finding you far closer than he expected. A faint shade of pink blooms over his cheeks at the proximity, letting out an audibly hitched breath.

From behind a concealed corner and down the hallway, Nekozawa chuckles triumphantly, "My fright strategy was perfection itself. Hm..." He turns to find a figure leaning casually against the wall. It happens to be your boyfriend; a flashlight aimed directly at a book as he squints in his efforts to read the pages.

"Kyoya, you're not joining in on the fun?" Nekozawa shoves Belzenef slightly in his direction questioningly.

"I am not. I'm simply here to ensure that y/n doesn't get into any trouble." He mutters uninterestedly.

Nekozawa snickers to himself, "If you consider 'trouble' tangled up in a net with one of the Hitachiin brothers, I think you might be surprised."

Kyoya glances up, eyes hooded menacingly, as he snaps his book shut and flicks off his flashlight.

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

Hikaru groans, "Ow! This was supposed to be a tournament, not a hunt!"

He gasps, "Kaoru! Where is he? I've got to find Kaoru!" Hikaru flails his limbs about, smacking you in the face in the process.

"Hey, calm down! You're not helping in the slightest; hold still!" You urge, shoving his arms away and shielding your face from any more oncoming blows.

"Where did you even come from?" Hikaru grumbles as you manage to sit up.

"Patrolling as a chaperone. Now, hold on." You answer quickly, lacking amusement. You let your jaw fall slack and pluck out one of your fangs, licking over your canine briefly before poking the tip. It's undoubtedly sharp enough to cut through the cheap rope.

"I can try to saw the rope with my fang, but it might not work." You shrug.

"That's definitely not gonna work." Hikaru deadpans.

"That's a lot of talk for someone stuck in a net. Now shut your smart mouth and let me do this."

"What do you mean 'my smart mouth'? Kaoru has one, too, you know."

You snort, "Apart from you? Not at all. Couldn't say the same for you. When it's just you, it actually gets worse." You snicker.

"Oh, yeah?" Hikaru tries his hardest to avoid your accusing eyes, sweating from the brow.

"Now sit tight; this'll take a moment." You reach over him and lean toward the thinnest part in the net. You steady your fang against it and begin to saw back and forth.

Unbeknownst to you, beneath you, Hikaru can't help his abashed gaze at your chest, leaning over him in this embarrassingly awkward position.

"What are you doing?" He questions in a strange, sing-song tone.

"Bite your tongue, don't be a child. Despite the awkward position, this'll only take a second." You grumble, sawing back and forth until your arm begins to ache.

"No. It's alright. Take your time." Hikaru lets out breathily. You roll your eyes, doing your best to ignore him.

Meanwhile, Tamaki, Kyoya, and Nekozawa are the only onlookers to your and Hikaru's precarious situation.

"Kyoya! How could you allow this?!" Tamaki whimpers, tears flowing down his cheek, similar to a flowing river.

"How, indeed?" Kyoya grumbles to himself, propping a hand on his hip with an exasperated sigh.

Both you and Hikaru yell with shock as the net suddenly gives out, and you both go crashing to the ground. The moment Hikaru is free, he goes tearing off down the hall, wailing Kaoru's name desperately. It's not long before he disappears.

You dust your hands off, rolling your eyes and wrenching your other fang out of your mouth so that you no longer have the uncomfortable feeling of a snaggletooth.

"That was sufficiently uncomfortable..." Your posture sags tiredly. Your muscles suddenly ache now that you have the time to spare them a thought. This is not how you thought you'd be spending your Halloween. You honestly believed you'd be cuddled up in your bed by now, watching horror movies that scare the living daylights out of you, surrounded by a mess of candy and their wrappers.

"Let's get you into something more comfortable, then." A phantom voice prompts you to spin around and face it. Your reaction is only natural when you're stranded in a dark hallway on one of the most bone-chilling days of the year.

But, you're met with nothing but the calming sight of a familiar face before he turns you around by your shoulder and leads you down the hallway. You sigh tiredly, "Please." You insist.

"You've done your fair share of work for today; it's up to the rest of the club how the tournament goes." Kyoya leads you to the nearby clubroom where you've stored a change of clothes.

You nearly stumble over your feet at your fatigue, finding your bag of comfortable clothes with hooded eyes and already pulling at the pins that hold up your elegant hairstyle. Locks of hair fall before your eyes, and you groan at the relieved tension it provides.

You manage to change out of your extravagant outfit fairly quickly, slipping on a pair of cotton shorts and a t-shirt that's far too large for you. But, to be honest, it might be Kyoya's. You're not entirely sure, actually. You pull the collar to your nose and inhale.

Yeah, this is Kyoya's shirt. You smile fondly. Then, you push open the door to the back room to find him seated in a chair, notebook open to the next page, and his pen dancing across the paper.

You slowly but surely reach him, tossing your arms around his shoulders from behind and leaning your weight on his back, pressing your cheek to his.

"You're back. How do you feel?" Kyoya turns to find your face in extremely close proximity to his, fighting a tint of pink as hard as he can.

"Better." You kiss his cheek and proceed to bury your face in the junction where his shoulder meets his neck. Well, as much as you can, as it's covered by his uniform.

"If we want to make it to my place before the tournament ends and they lock us in, we should leave now." He insists, involuntarily scrunching his nose as you rub your own nose against his cheek with a chuckle.

"We're going to your place?" You parrot, pulling back just enough to see his face.

"I thought you wanted me to watch you eat all the candy you could stomach," Kyoya recalls with a poorly fought fond smile.

"I didn't think you would remember that." You hum, peeking around him just slightly, coming face to face with him.

"Would I have purchased candy if I'd forgotten?"

Kyoya revels in the way your eyes light up, "You're the best." You don't leave before taking hold of his chin and pressing a quick kiss to his lips.

Kyoya blinks as you scurry to gather the remainder of your things, simply unable to tear his eyes away from you as you move about.

He isn't shaken from his trance until you turn to him, bag slung over your shoulder and glancing at him expectantly.

"Going to sit there wide-eyed? Come on." You wave gently with a bright smile.

Kyoya rolls his eyes, despite doing exactly as he's told. He shoves his notebook into his blazer pocket and trades it out for his hand in yours instead. Your brows furrow, glancing up at him.

He knows exactly what you mean by that, "There's no one around." He shrugs, glancing at you through his peripheral vision.

You beam, tucking your lip in your teeth and managing to rip your gaze from his at long last.

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

Tucked under a blanket and surrounded by empty candy wrappers, you subconsciously clutch onto Kyoya's arm as your eyes are glued to the screen across from his bed. Kyoya doesn't typically have a television at the foot of his mattress, but there's nothing his staff can't do when he asks for it... and there's nothing he won't ask for you.

The jump-scares on the screen don't make Kyoya flinch, gasp, or even blink in the slightest. But, he can hardly contain a warm fluttering in his heart whenever your grip tightens. Asia indeed makes some of the most horrifying films ever created, but Kyoya's practically sat through them all. Korean, Japanese, you name it... he has two older brothers, after all.

"Maybe we should watch a western horror film... something more American?" Kyoya suggests after one of your countless flinches paired with a little gasp.

You shake your head, tossing aside an Anpanman candy wrapper and chewing slowly, "I can take it; it's okay." You wave him off dismissively, not sparing him a glance.

Kyoya rolls his eyes at your persistence, brushing aside one of the many wrappers on his lap, "You're cleaning this up, you know." He reminds.

You ignore him entirely, unable to tear your gaze from the screen, and anxiously await the next jump-scare to come.

As the film progresses, Kyoya nearly flinches at the appearance of a beastly ghoul. But, to his surprise, you don't move an inch. Your hand is still gripping tightly to his arm, but now your head is pressed against his shoulder. Kyoya raises a brow at your lack of mobility, glancing down to find that your eyes are gently shut. You have 'candy-induced-coma' written all over your sleep-ridden features.

Kyoya scoffs to himself. He plucks the half-eaten American chocolate bar from your pliant fingers and wraps it back up carefully, placing it to the side and sweeping the remaining wrappers away from the both of you. He's afraid that turning off the television will rouse you from REM, which seems to be your current sleep stage, and he knows that it's quite the pleasurable stage to be in.

Kyoya simply rids himself of his glasses and attempts to slide farther under the blankets next to you. What makes him freeze is the sound of your sleepy hum and your arms slithering around his torso tightly, pressing your cheek to his chest and settling just like that.

Kyoya releases a hitched breath, waiting for your next move that never comes. Instead, he blinks disorientedly, trying to decide whether or not your closeness makes him uncomfortable. But when you inhale and exhale deeply, looking so peaceful, his indecisiveness is settled.

He knows you'd never let him live it down if you knew he was allowing you to cling to him like this. Luckily, you're far too lost to the sweet succor of sleep to even begin to acknowledge your situation.

The fond smile tugging at Kyoya's lips settles quickly into a frown when he realizes that not all moments like this can last forever. You'll probably wake in the morning, horrified that you're not in your own bed, and rush to tell your father what happened before he can assume the worst.

Nothing is forever, Kyoya reminds himself. The bitter harshness of reality erases his simper from his cheeks, and the warm feeling in his chest is replaced with the dread of moments yet to come.

Relationships are ever-changing, and ours is bound to take a turn for better or worse.

And when that happens... I don't know what I'll do.

Kyoya's digital clock hits midnight.

🎵I run and run a thousand miles, and I am barely breathing. Only the fuel of a passionate heart keeps this body strong and moving forward.

Could it be I found a place to rest? How far until I’m OK?

Trees of the town reveal the time has come once again to shift our shade and colors. 🎵

🎵The world always changes around us but weakness will always remain;

Through all the pain, believe in who we are right here and now! 🎵

🎵Raise one hand to the sky; raise them both lift them high!!

And you’ll cut through the darkness make it go!

The time to start is now! And I can show you how.

Start with me, and the world will be even bigger than ever before. 🎵

♡Next time, on Indeed...♡

It seems you've attracted the attention of a certain… candidate. Although Kyoya knows where your heart belongs, he wishes your pursuer knew as well…

♡We'll see you then!! ♡

want to read more? here's my ouran masterlist 🌹

and here's my bts blog💜

want me to write something you want to see? request something💌

have any questions? talk to my characters!🙏🏻

Adieu~ 🌹🌹🌹

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monstersinthecosmos · 20 days

Note

stealing your question as promised: what authors do you think shaped your writing the most when you were first starting?

-mothmage

sdjkgas in middle school my favorite authors were Anne Rice and Francesca Lia Block and I think they have SENSUALITY in common even though their writing styles are SO opposite. As a teen when I was first writing I think I learned so much from both of them, like the seriousness and drama of AR but at the same time, FLB is so concise and punchy and sometimes her books are like these waterfalls of adjectives and I tried to think in that way too! Like I'm a very visual person so FLB books were like fucking crack for me, just heaps and heaps of descriptions of color and glittery and starry night skies and flowers growing where they shouldn't and it feels like poetry!

(I opened a random FLB book off my shelf and this is what I mean: We walked up and down the hills until our legs ached, then rode the trolley car to feel rushes of salty, misty air. We had picnics and fed the swans on the lake under the flowering terra-cotta arches, drank tea and ate pastries in rooms with cupids and rosebuds painted on the walls, strolled through the park, green-dazzled, fragrance-drunk, gasped at treasures gleaming gold in the half-lit glass cases of the museum. Then we'd return with spices, fruits and vegetables from Chinatown, seafood and baguettes from the wharf.

Her writing is so simple but it's just like heaps and heaps of sensory details !! And it's an interesting spectrum between her & AR to see how much you can say and like what type of efficiency you can find, because both of them give me that same feeling and feel so sensuous to me. I WANT TO KNOW WHAT EVERYTHING LOOKS LIKE AND SMELLS LIKE AND SOUNDS LIKE, TAKE ME THERE!

So as a teen I think I was learning a lot from them both and like I remember a fic I wrote with someone at a mall and it was like my FLB moment, I was like OMG I MUST MENTION THE TACO SMELL IN THE FOOD COURT AND THE PERFUME KIOSK AND THE HOUSE MUSIC BLASTING FROM A HAT SHOP AND THE CRUNCHY SUGAR ON A PRETZEL! And that's something that's stuck with me a lot, I think. I always want to tell you how things feel and smell like we're going on a journey, okay!

They both also have a way of treating cities/locations like characters--FLB actually does this quite literally by describing cities as if they're women (like LA is a blonde woman with big sunglasses and NYC has dyed black hair with severe red lipstick that stains on her cigarette butts, etc something like that) and it feels really specific and made me think a lot about locations and settings and how they affect the characters and story! They were also both the first books I ever read with queer people! FLB's short story Dragons in Manhattan was the first story I ever read with a trans person back when I was like 12 or 13.

AND THEN as a final nail in the coffin LOL I read I Know This Much is True by Wally Lamb when I was in 9th or 10th grade and it just really like !! IDK broke my head open for character voice. I don't think I'd read it so well done before, or maybe not noticed before. LIKE I MEAN this entire concept is like asking what did WE discover as kids or whatever, like so much of it is happenstance and if it hadn't been these authors it would've been someone else, and it's not like I stopped reading LOL like I still learn things from reading all the time! But Wally Lamb really brought this home for me. Like the way he writes Dominick's narration is just so like cynical and rugged and full of hurt and it made me think a lot about like how to profile a character with the language we use. I don't think FLB does this too much bc her writing is so breezy anyway and AR is so wordy that I don't think I could pick up on it as a teenager. I get more nuance now and see it better but it's there's a base level of like fanciness and purple prose that can be hard to see through on the first try, at least for me as a teen.

ANYWAY SORRY THAT WAS A REALLY LONG RESPONSE I JUST GOT REALLY EXCITED but Anne Rice + FLB + Wally Lamb wombo combo for emotionally torturous sensory overload cynical guttermouth style.

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glazedtrash721 · 11 months

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GOLLY it's been a minute! But alas, I have returned with gifts! Said gifts consist of my Welcome Home self insert, but if she was in @clownsuu 's Mob AU!! Hooray!

This young member of the Neighborhood is, while incredibly meek and anxious, also extremely loyal and willing to do what it takes to protect those she cares about and to do what she's told. Eager to please, this keeps her well on Wally's good side, which benefits her greatly by keeping her out of a coffin for the time being. She originally came from another group that I made up called the Company, which explains the bar code on the base of her neck (as seen in the previous set of drawings) and much of her anxiety and lack of self identity. Though not the greatest at fighting, she can become quite violent when the others are at risk or in danger. So watch out, because she will start swinging! And boy, does she swing hard! Willow is also known for being oblivious to lots of things, while being extremely observant of how others feel. She is quite good at reading a room or how someone feels, and she is always quick to act or react accordingly.

Relationship charts and disguises under the cut!

Here's the relationship charts! Credit again goes to @clownsuu lol

Willow probably gets along best with Poppy, Eddie, Frank, and Howdy. She's terrified of Wally, but is still eager to impress him and (hopfully) build a stronger platonic relationship with him. She's also incredibly intimidated by Barnaby, and while she gets along with Sally and Julie, she finds them a little too experimental with her. She's only really heard of Doc and Robbie, but I feel like she would feel a combination of how she feels towards Howdy and Sally towards Robbie, that being interested, but exhausted and intimidated by his sheer amount of chaotic energy.

Likewise, Poppy, Eddie, and Frank probably like her the most in return. Howdy, as expected, is pretty neutral, but he finds her interesting. Wally doesn't dislike her either, primarily because she is incredibly loyal and obedient to him and the Neighborhood, and he finds her near-constant state of fear fun to observe. Barnaby and Sally find her a tad boring, and Julie, while also thinking Willow should lighten up a bit, is also pretty curious about her. Doc wouldn't pay much attention to her if he knew her any better, and I feel that Robbie would also find her a bit boring, but would be very interested in trying to get her to react to certain things.

Now, on the off occasion that the gang needs to get into disguises, this is what Willow's get-up would be! She's a bit of a "starving artist" of sorts, setting up an easel and canvas wherever she's told to (primarily by Wally), as she sits and observes her surroundings. She can also be used to look out for certain people and their whereabouts, as she can record her observations in her art through a sort of code that she created where certain colors, shapes, and even representational things represent different things. It's also easy for her to communicate with others, as well as have them communicate with her with little to no suspicion, so she's also a sort of "middle man" within the disguised group.

So yeah! There's Mob AU Willow!! Don't be surprised if I make more stuff about this AU, I absolutely LOVE it and it's been spinning in my brain like how a frozen single serving of veggie lasagna spins in the microwave. So! You best get used to this, because there may be more to come! :D

#welcome home #welcomehome #welcome home au #welcome home mob au #art #digital art #my art #welcome home oc #welcome home self insert #oc #AAAAAAHHHHHHH I LOVE THIS AU SO MUCH #I have done so much exessive daydreaming about this AU like no cap frfr #she's just a little silly #so so silly #also constantly afraid for her life #honestly? me too sis #that's because she's basically me!#not my au #I WISH I was as creative as clownsuu GOLLY GEE WILLIKERS

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f1-alldayeveryday · 11 months

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I was laying around bored and I thought,

What type of nails would the F1 drivers get?

So this is my long post about what nails each of them would get, including some added bonuses ;). I will be providing some pictures but others probably won’t need it. This is all based on my own opinion of nails. So basically no one will be getting plain white french tips because I really don’t like them :(

I will be using the names of all the different shaped nails and for those who don’t know them, you can look here for reference > Shape&Length sheet

(This is going to have to be four parts because of tumblrs photo limit😒)

Pt -1

1.Max Verstappen

I think Max has enough confidence to get some extensions. He only goes for poly gel feeling like it’s less of a commitment than acrylic. He’d be ok if they were the same shape as the pic if anything just a little shorter for practicality and more rounded than pointed. He def gets a gold design (for the second pic it would be a navy blue for rbr) and probably shove the number one in there somewhere just because in the moment he’s radiating fierce confidence. But after he would be shy but proud enough of them to show to everyone he talks to.

2. Lando Norris

Lando doesn't rlly have the confidence when getting nails. He likes the idea but is kinda scared of doing too much. He wants plain but doesn't want to be basic so he settles on the popular water effect nails. Mostly so from afar it passed as plain blue nails but he can still say he got a design.

3.Charles Leclerc

Let's be real with as much heartbreak as he's gotten from them he stays a loyal Ferrari girlie. He'd get the first one being abstract Ferrari nails with yellow lines instead of white. The second one however he would get but instead of LV logo's it'd be the prancing horse with either a yellow sheer base or a red sheer base. Both would be medium acrylic, either box or coffin shaped!

4.Carlos Sainz

Carlos is a little too traditional (slightly self conscious) to be getting anything too dramatic. He'd go with a plain gel manicure, probably a deep red. Really it'd be a clear gel but he'll get some color to not seem too much of a pussy. He'll also probably bite it all off in a few days for sure.

(No photo because you can imagine what a deep Ferrari/chili red nail polish looks like)

5. Lewis Hamilton

Let's be real Lewis would be down to rock any sort of set. Only steering away from longer sets because they're just too impractical for him. I feel like charms aren't really his thing but does like the feel of the 3D texture with the blobs. He would totally love to rock a bunch of colors. He'd get this array of colors air brushed on with metallic accents on top cause he's down like that (also he would try and match his outfit to it a few times).

6.Alex Albon

Honestly him getting his nails done wouldn't even be up to him. He'd accompany Lily to an appointment and then come out with his own nails down. It would def be matched to whatever her set is. He's just bf coded like That.

Pt-1, Pt-2, Pt-3, Pt-4, shape&length sheet

#formula 1 #f1 #formula one #nails #Max Verstappen #Carlos Sainz #charles leclerc #Lando Norris #Lewis Hamilton #Alex Albon

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samsvenn · 2 years

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𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐚𝐤𝐚𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐬' 𝐃𝐢𝐚𝐫𝐲 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬

karl gave each of the boys diaries. little do they know that each diary was infused with magic so he could peek through some pages. each of the brothers HAVE to wrote something within an allotted time or they have to suffer consequences; a motivator for them to not just scribble on one page and never look inside it again after completing an 'entry'

𝐒𝐡𝐮

“today was nothing special. just like everyday. i wish the house was quiet

but just like everyday wishing it’ll never come true Laito played something on the piano. i remember it from when he just just a child.

but like everyone in this ragged house i don’t want to be burdened of what happened in that godforsaken castle.”

-Shu

Shu’s diary is full of wiggly, barely legible lines. He uses cursive and doesn't let his pen lift off from the word he’s currently writing unless it’s for a space. It’s so small and swooshy that only some pages can be read by him and no one other than him.

He writes the date on the left; just the month and day, nothing more.

Everything is to the left so that he won’t waste more time shifting his arm. He likes to waste energy but only on his accord.

His diary looks like an antique: old yellowed leathered where even the smallest bit of dust is visible, pages so thin and brittle that you’re scared to turn them but can’t stop, there’s a small place in the center to place a photo but that place was removed and scrubbed off with alcohol to erase its existence because a certain blonde doesn’t want to be reminded of how detached he is socially.

Funnily enough, his signature is shaped like a music clef. It’s smaller compared to the rest of the others and if the ‘H’ wasn’t there, it’d totally be just a bunch of wavy lines he compiled while trying to not nod off.

Most of the stuff in his diary is three paragraphs or less.

Uses a water-based felt tip marker. He doesn’t like scratchy feeling markers and he doesn’t like those pens where you have to press really hard just for them to write. The kind he chose is also a motivator for him to write from how frictionless and buttery smooth it glides on paper. Color doesn’t matter for Shu. But because it’s water-based, the ink may fade and it’ll even be more opaque since Shu hardly put any pressure on his pens when he writes.

It’s like that pen you had in school where you felt like you could write a whole novelette in the span of one period just because it was so good.

The stuff he writes in his diary are all mostly pet peeves he has from living in the manor.

That is if he decides to write. This man is NOT consistent at all. Sometimes he’ll write an entry four days later and others, he’ll write back an entry two months and a blue moon after that.

Dust had collected between the pageswhen he accidentally left it out under his bed and forgot about it.

He definitely has ink blobs on his pages.

Doesn’t like to read back on the previous entries. It only burdens him by reminding him of what he can’t have and what he can’t solve so it’s all just a personal vent book that he’ll either burn or discard by locking it away in Cordelia’s abandoned walk-in closet because none of the triplets dare to walk inside there, Reiji hates the stench of the strong potent perfumes that had alcohol as a major ingredient and Subaru’s afraid to even touch Shu’s book; in fear of what would happen if he did.

𝐒𝐮𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐮

"Fuck SCHOOL FUCK Reiji Fuck EVERYONE IN This DAMNED House" -Subaru

"School was a bitch Teacher sucked ass Ayato is just like his mom dumb and a whore for attention My coffin is my escape and he put itching power in it Gonna go and cut his jersey"

-Subaru

Uses sharpies. It’s either dark blue or black for color. He doesn’t like to write in warm colors because it reminds him of the triplet’s hairs and that thought is enough to get his blood boiling since already they tease him relentlessly like their job.

Uses a jumbo/king sized one because he likes to grip it with all five fingers; similar to that of a drummer’s. It also fits his hands better because the regular one slips away too often in his grip when his hands get sweaty.

His handwriting looks like graffiti: some letters are boxy, some are wide, lots of scribbles and doodles here and there. He thought it was cool and went along with it.

It doesn't look uniform too. He writes quick and there's no straight formation. His words droop at the end or some words in the middle are higher than the others.

His “F” strokes are very elongated and any sharp-edged letter for that sake. It helps him relieve a little bit of pent up anger as he drags the writing strokes through the page, almost ripping two pages beneath it.

He likes to hear his markers squeak. There’s a satisfaction knowing that he could theoretically make any object cry out from his immeasurable strength.

He considers humans as objects so think of that how you will.

His diary is also full of venting. Honestly, I think that every Sakamaki vents using their diary which is why they’re so protective over it. He hides his diary where he hides his foot fetish magazines. Ayato and Laito thought that they hit the jackpot when they found Subaru’s Playboy stash but little do they know that there was a bigger steal they could’ve exposed if they spent more time looking at the bottom of his rancid dirty underwear bin.

I feel bad for anyone who has accidentally touched his diary tbh

Keep this man at a distance if you see him with his diary in his hand. If you don’t want to, then I’m sorry to tell you this but you and Laito both have something in common: a scent kink.

Writes about what made him mad that day and who caused it.

Also writes about his least favorite teachers and his plans on how to get them fired. Subaru stole the panties of a hookup Laito had from school and placed it inside his Latin Teacher’s desk. The Latin Teacher commented on how Subaru’s attire was “Not fit for a prestigious school. Or, any school for that fact”.

The teacher was not only fired, but got sued and is now a registered se❌ offender as a result. Now, he can’t enter any schools within a 45 radius.

He’s very sensitive when it comes to his appearance as a result of his upbringing with Christa so he is HIGHLY explosive and volatile on any comments he’ll receive, especially sly pompous remarks.

His diary looks like all of the pages are about to fall off at any given moment. Pieces of invisible tape has been detected at the spine in an effort to have a quick solution to the problem. The front cover is holding on for dear life and it’s so wrinkled that even a granny would look young compared to it. It’s thick and the weight is unusual for a diary. Subaru has a LOT to write about so the thickness isn’t only a great cover up for the ink that has bleed through the pages, but a cover-up for the emotional vulnerable hidden deep in random pages out of 550.

#diabolik lovers #diahell #diabolik lovers fandom #dl #rejet #diabolik boys #diaboys #dialovers #diabolik lovers headcanons #headcanons #shu sakamaki #subaru sakamaki #sakamaki

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morbsxadorbs · 9 months

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okay, so!

I know I’ve been talking about a @morvantmortuary ita bag for ages now, but I haven’t posted any photos! this is bc I kept having to migrate it between base bags due to my own indecisiveness/occasional misfortune - I’d find one that I really liked and wear it for a while, but then before long I’d spot another base come down into my price range, but then not long after the zipper would come undone and be nonfunctional, etc. it really felt like I was maybe cursed there for a hot minute :’D

but so today, I finally got a pretty solid-feeling nylon coffin base I ordered not long ago, and it was actually cheaper than the previous coffin-shaped base I’d ordered!!

so I decided I would just go ahead and take photos now, before anything happens to it when I wear it out tonight lmao

Ta-da! here it is, in all its glory. it’s a little lumpy bc I’ve already got all my stuff in there, but I think it works for a more ‘casual outing’ bag.

more photos below to save space 🖤

here’s a tour of the pins in the insert:

so of course as I’m tallying these up, I’m realizing just how many of them are pieces I’ve collected like a magpie over the years :’D but I did go back and find sources for the ones I could!!

I got the Cafe du Monde button and the embalming machine on two separate trips to NOLA, one before I started grad school and one after.

I’m pretty sure I got the hearse and the scythe at an Oddities show in Austin after COVID wound down a bit (but I know the artist for the scythe is BatsintheBelfry on etsy, and I love a lot of their stuff!).

the MCR pin is from a hipdot preorder years ago, the knife was from a kickstarter preorder around the same time, and the love letter (which has more to do with the manuscript version) was a birthday present before I started grad school. (I think it might have come from Maya Kern’s store??? I’m not sure.)

the Horror heart was also I think a lucky freebie in an order for a little outfit for chibi!Maxi.

the death’s head is from VeronaBlack on etsy

the Maggie skele-kitty is from queerwatercolors on etsy

the Eat Racists alligator is from lostlustsupply on etsy

and the bi bracelet I turned into a zipper pull is from FlorenceMaeHandmade, also on etsy

and then we had a lot of room on the side hinge, so I added some pinback buttons that didn’t work on the insert:

the bi heart was I’m pretty sure a xmas present from my favorite ex

the Final Survivor pin is from BearBonesArt on etsy, who does a lot of really cute slasher-related stuff. (it’s more mint-colored than it looks in the photo, my house lighting is just odd.)

and the reassuring reaper pin is from DanyelleOrwickArt on etsy. it’s probably one of my favorites, and she has a whole collection of them that I want to buy the rest of when I have the cash 🖤 maybe at my next job lmao

we did try putting all the tiny!Morvants in the display window! but, uh. :’D

it’s maybe. a little cramped in there. (they did used to call these kinds of coffins toe-pinchers, after all!)

so we might go with something like this for our Outing this evening:

(at least until we’re seated and the lights go down lol.)

while I’m mentioning artists, just a reminder that I got the tiny!Morvants (and stunt!Maxi, who is still undergoing a repair spa stay) from NoizFoxy on etsy! they were a joy to work with each and every time, they were super thoughtful when it came to details, and they always kept me updated in the process, so if you ever decide you want a small friend of your own (be it OC or blorbo), I would recommend them when they have an open listing 🥰

okay! thanks for letting me babble about this, I know it’s super niche but I’m just happy it got put together!! I’m looking forward to wearing it out later 👻🖤

#rae’s plush problem #ita bags #doll ita bag #ita bag #morvant mortuary #horror ita bag #the misadventures of the tiny!morvants #horror oc #horror ocs #slasher oc #slasher ocs #make ita bags of your own original series friends; be your own weird fan 😅🖤

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jo-harrington · 7 months

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Inspired by @storiesbyrhi and The Grimoire companion to Burning Yarrow.

As Above, So Below is a Kas!Eddie AU based on Van Helsing (2004) that mainly takes place in a post Season 5 world and contains many Easter eggs and references to Religion, Catholicism, Mythology, Dungeons and Dragons, Literature, and other Media. The story can be enjoyed with or without previous knowledge of all, and most overt references will be explained within the chapters themselves.

If there are things you see that make you pause, please look for explanations. Some may have linked sources. (References are organized in chapter order and will be updated upon the release of a new chapter.)

If there are any additional references that I might have missed, please let me know.

Please note before you continue, this story is one that has and will continue to criticize religion heavily. But oftentimes, in order to criticize something, it must also be used as a tool. AASB is not meant to proselytize in any way shape or form. It's only for fucking vampires.

Story-wide References and Headcanons

The Knight - Original Female Character, written in the 2nd Person POV (you/your). The knight has few, if any, physical descriptors and is unnamed. Although the transition to an OC was done for inclusivity, this has evolved into a stylistic choice. The Knight is all but unknown to everyone except Eddie. She even struggles to know herself. She has a loss of identity, has been used as a tool, and has been stripped of autonomy for most of her life and she is looking to finally take control. This is her story.

Knights of the Holy Order - A fictional group modeled after an organization of the same name from Van Helsing (2004). A collection of individuals with abilities (akin to Eleven/Kali/Henry etc.) who strive to rid the world of Darkness and protect the Light. Though the group is not tied to any one religious affiliation, the belief is that these individuals were given their abilities by a "God" and therefore receive missions and tasks through leadership figures from predominantly Western religions. Although they share an understanding that all beliefs are valid and have weight in the "mortal realm."

Hyacinth - A blue-purple spring-blooming flower that symbolizes the desire for forgiveness.

Gabriel the Archangel - An angel with the power to announce God's will to humans. Though revered as a Saint in Christianity/Catholicism, angels and Gabriel specifically have been mentioned and used as messengers in Judaism and Islam as well.

Saint - A figure in Catholicism and Orthodox Christian religions that is holy or virtuous and acknowledged as being in Heaven after death. Saints typically have a "patronage," meaning there is something tied to their life that they "oversee." (eg. Saint Anthony of Padua was a Franciscan monk in the 13th Century who was given sainthood and holds patronage over Lost Items and Lost People.)

Mickey Caldwell & Jack Shephard - Minor OCs and classmates of Eddie's that make up "Corroded Coffin V1" prior to Eddie's failing senior year the first time. Both boys move away from Hawkins for college in the Summer of 1984. Mickey is the original drummer, and Jack is the original Bass player.

"Reefer" Rick Lipton - Rick Lipton, though a canon character from Season 4 of Stranger Things, is written as a minor OC. He is a Vietnam veteran, he used to date Eddie's mom before she passed, and Eddie views him as a pseudo step-dad.

Feast Day - A day on the Catholic calendar devoted to the celebration or veneration of something or someone important to the faith.

Numerology - The belief that there is a divine relevance between numbers and coinciding events.

Prequels: Heaven, Hell, & Purgatory

Paladin - Playable character class in DnD; the character is a knight who has devoted themselves to goodness and light and fights in service of a deity. The Paladin has a code of conduct and are expected to embody goodness. In older editions of DnD, if the Paladin conducted dark or evil acts, they would lose their holy abilities.

Book of Revelation - The final book in the Christian Bible, often refuted, that supposedly predicts the apocalypse.

Purgatory - A place or state of suffering in which sinners atone before going to Heaven.

September 8 - Feast Day of the Nativity of the Virgin Mary

September 15 - Feast Day of Our Lady of Sorrows

September 21 - Feast Day of Saint Matthew, a sinner turned saint.

September 23 - Feast of Saint Pio of Pietrelcina, who reportedly could heal by touch.

September 29 - Feast Day of the Archangels Gabriel, Raphael, and Michael

1987 Whittier Narrows Earthquake - Real life event, occurred October 1st, 1987 in the San Gabriel Valley of California.

21 - A number symbolizing a new era of life. Biblically it also symbolizes great strife, sin, and rebellion.

Prologue: Annunciation

March 25 - Feast of the Annunciation

Annunciation - The event signifying Gabriel the Archangel's visit to the Virgin Mary to inform her of her Holy Fate.

Doctor Anton Phibes - A character from the 1971 Cult Classic, The Abominable Doctor Phibes starring Vincent Price. In the film, Phibes uses the Ten Plagues of Egypt in a ritual to resurrect his dead wife.

Jinette - A character from Van Helsing (2004). Jinette is an Archbishop, then Cardinal, in the Catholic Church for the diocese of Los Angeles. While members of the Holy Order are in Los Angeles, he is their contact and delivers missions and tasks for them.

March 27, 1986 - Canonically, the day of Eddie Munson's Death.

March 30, 1986 - Easter Sunday, and in-universe, the day Eddie Munson rises in the Upside Down as Kas.

Beelzebub - A winged demon that is considered the "Lord of the Flyers."

Asmodeus - A "Prince of demons" representative of temptation and lust. Asmodeus has been referred to as a "puppet."

Chapter 1: Illumination

Illumination - Historically, Illuminated Manuscripts are documents that have been decorated and gilded and then used as a frontispiece in books such as a Bible. They contain prayers, illustrations, dedications, proclamations, and often times, summarizations of a story or introductions to their characters.

Mission San Gabriel Arcángel - A Californian mission in San Gabriel Valley that was damaged during the Whittier Narrows Earthquake.

San Gabriel Playhouse/Civic Center - A structure across from the Mission San Gabriel Arcangel that sustained damage to the bell towers on October 5, 1987 due to aftershocks from the earthquake.

Our Lady of Mount Carmel - A name given to the Virgin Mary during her Patronage of the Carmelite Order. Scapulars (sacramental garments) of Our Lady of Mount Carmel protect wearers from "suffering in eternal fire."

Parish of Our Lady of Mount Carmel - A Catholic Church located in Melrose Park, a suburb of Chicago, Illinois. The chapel was built in 1894.

Bungalow - A style of residential architecture in Chicago and surrounding suburbs, built primarily between 1910 and 1940.

Cornicello - A Southern Italian symbol for good luck and protection against evil.

Order of Minims - A Roman Catholic Order of friars founded by Saint Francis of Paola, known for their vow of humility, poverty, charity and devoted faith. Their habit consists of a black wool tunic belted with a tasseled cord tied 4 times to signify each vow.

Agnosticism - The belief of a God or the divine, but understanding that it is unknown or unknowable. The Knights of the Holy Order both have personal religious affiliations and beliefs, but also operate under blanket agnosticism.

Italian Diaspora - A surge of poor immigrants from Southern Italy to America in the late 19th century and early 20th century.

Beatification - A declaration by the Pope that someone is in Heaven and in a state of Bliss, usually as a step to Sainthood and public veneration.

Ancestral Sin - Occasionally used to refer to the Original Sin of Adam, however the belief that the sins of the father will then translate to the children. Present in most spiritual systems and religions. Psychologists and philosophers believe that failure of morality is simply a flaw of human nature.

Chapter 2: Descendió a los Infiernos

Misa Criolla - See here.

Misapplying Quotes from the Bible - Gabriel, in the story, will often misquote things from the Bible or utilize them in the way that best serves the plot of the story/the string of fate. This speaks to humanity's inability to understand the Divine and the misuse of Biblical quotes to achieve personal means, as well as the belief that holy scriptures were not written by anything or anyone divine, but by mortal men.

Michael the Archangel - Another archangel and saint, like Gabriel, and a protector and warrior. Often times, prayed to to protect people in Battle. Historically, Joan of Arc was said to have visions of Michael.

Oath of the Holy Order - A bastardization of the Prayer to Saint Michael. (You're welcome. This is a story about criticism of religion. Where have you been?)

The Necrodome - An episode from the Canadian TV Series Blood Ties, about a detective and her vampire sidekick. The episode features people being reanimated to fight in an underground boxing ring for the undead.

Constance Hatchaway - The murderous bride featured in Disney's Haunted Mansion. The ride and movies are mainly set in New Orleans.

Attack on the Town Square by the Brides of Dracula - A scene from Van Helsing (2004).

Chapter 3: Crucible

The Crucible - A play by Arthur Miller about the Salem Witch Trials in 1692 and an allegory for McCarthyism.

Crucible - A situation of severe trial, or in which different elements interact, leading to the creation of something new.

Crucible - A ceramic or metal container in which metals or other substances may be melted or subjected to very high pressure and temperatures.

Stigmata - The bodily marks, sores, or sensations of pain in locations corresponding to the crucifixion wounds on the hands, feet, and heart. (I am purposely ignoring Jesus in this story except for certain instances.)

Catholic Guilt - The thing that drives Matt Murdock insane...just kidding, here is a good article.

Anthropophagous - A monster featured in the Monstrumologist series by Rick Yancey that is shaped like a headless man, with a mouth in its stomach. Is this series problematic? Tad Bit. Is this monster terrifying? Yes.

Brides of Dracula - Three "sisters" from Bram Stoker's Dracula that live in Dracula's castle and are used as tools of temptation. They have the ability to entrance and seduce and are considered secondary antagonists. They have been depicted in plenty of vampire media, including Van Helsing (2004). Although the visual interpretation of the three brides are Chrissy, Heather, and Barb, the literal three brides of AASB are Chrissy, Fred, and Patrick.

Chapter 4: Malum Malus

Napoleonic Wars - A series of conflicts fought by Napoleon and the French empire after the French Revolution. Napoleon invaded the Papal States in 1809 and imprisoned Pope Pius VII for signing the Concordat of 1801 which guaranteed Catholics would have religious freedom in the new French Empire (as religion was seen as anti-empirical). After his exile Pius reformed much of the Catholic Church (and also did a lot of bad things in the name of God. Popes really suck, man.)

Antichrist - A prophesied figure who will oppose Jesus Christ in an impending apocalypse.

Vomiting Dirt - Symbolic of releasing negative feelings and emotions. From a religious perspective, it shows signs of losing sight of your faith and your values. In dream interpretation, if one vomits dirt in a dream, they must take time to reflect on their past and reconnect with people they've wronged to apologize or mend the relationship.

SOS - Save our Souls or Save our Ship, SOS is a well-known distress signal. It is three short taps followed by three long taps, and then three short taps again.

Chapter 5: Via Domus

Via Domus - Latin for "The Way Home." The chapter is named after the video game Lost: Via Domus, which is connected to the 2004 TV Series Lost. Lost has many biblical and philosophical themes, and while the characters always strive to find a way to return home, home seemed to be right where they were the whole time.

"God is Dead" - A philosophical statement made by Nietzsche, signifying that the belief of God has become so paramount and such a norm in society that people weigh all of their moral bearings on, that god is dead. Also spoken by John Proctor in The Crucible; John, a God-fearing man, becomes disillusioned during the persecution of his neighbors and himself that he believes the idea of a God, who upholds justice for the innocent, must be dead.

"Lord I am not worthy to receive you..." - This is taken from Matthew 8:8. During a Catholic mass it is said before communion; the belief is that the blessing of taking God/Jesus into your body through communion is such a blessing that no matter how holy you are, you are not worthy of it. In AASB, the Knight is quite literally believed to be a cursed and unholy being that is still gifted with holy light; in this moment, where just minutes prior she denounced God--and has slowly been coming to this conclusion for her entire life--she is looking for her faith to save her. It is, quite literally, the last line of defense against "Kas."

Chapter 6: Revelation

Revelation - A surprising or previously unknown fact, especially one that is revealed in a shocking or dramatic way. In philosophical/religious context, the act of a divine or supernatural disclosure of something to humans. There are several revelations in Chapter 6, both subtle and obvious. (Additionally, see previous reference to Book of Revelation from the Prequels.)

3 - The number 3 in numerology and in religious context represents wholeness and divine completeness. 3 sides of a triangle and the triangle is the most stable and strong shape. Father-Son-and-Holy-Spirit, 3 Kings, 3 Prayers in the Garden of Gethsemane before Jesus was arrested. 3 is also the number that is referred to most frequently in the book of Revelation.

Cerberus - In Greek Mythology, the multi-headed hound of Hades who guards the doors of the Underworld.

"What is it you want, Mary..." - Quote from the movie It's a Wonderful Life, which plays on themes of love, friendship, faith, and happiness/dissatisfaction.

"I Am Hollow..." - Speech said by Dracula to his Brides in Van Helsing.

Sweetest Day - Sweetest Day 1987 was actually celebrated on October 17th.

John Winthrop - Founder of the Massachusetts Bay colony and a prominent figure in Puritanism. Notably quoted for describing the colony as a "city on a hill" with shining moral example for the rest of the world. (*cough* bullshit *cough*)

Sacrament - In Christianity, a ceremony or ritual that is used to impart divine grace upon someone to varying degrees. Baptism, Communion, confession/penance, anointing, etc.

First Communion - First Holy Communion is one of the three sacraments a Catholic (and other varied christian denominations) and rite of passage when a child is old enough to understand the Mystery of Faith and take on responsibility/acceptance of their sins and process of forgiveness for themselves. In AASB, the Knight never went through any of the sacraments because she has always needed to take on her own sins/forgiveness and that of her ancestors. Communion wouldn't be necessary. (Or would it? The church seems to enjoy keeping this curse hanging over her head/family's head.)

Monk's Chant From Monty Python and the Holy Grail - Literal translation "merciful Lord, grant them rest." Would probably be one of the truly religious-adjacent references Eddie would recognize. The movie itself carries this meaning of "if you don't give up you'll never lose" while also MOCKING that idea.

"This is my blood..." - The knight quotes/bastardizes the line from Matthew 26:28, said by Jesus during the last supper, and recited ahead of the Rite of Communion in the Catholic Church. She is setting up a covenant of forgiveness between herself and Eddie.

Covenant - A promise, an agreement, bound by a seal. Biblically, there are many covenants made between religious figures and God.

The Ballroom Scene - An interpretation of the scene between Dracula and Anna Valerious from Van Helsing.

#aasb #as above so below #Eddie munson fic #kas!eddie #tw: religious themes

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