"wow you write so consistently!" said nobody ever. listen. i can and will write 3k in a day and then refuse to write a single paragraph for weeks. i hop from wip to wip like i have a personal vendentta against healthy commitment. i started more wips than i continued and continued more wips than i finished. occasionally i randomly deleting huge chunks of my work and rewrite them out of sheer dissatisfication. other times i reconsider why writing, of all things, is my hobby. what is consistency, honestly.
GSGW au where everything is pretty much the same except KSE buys the blood cutlery kit from the Alien shop and creates a glock in the specialised equipment.
Maybe he can get to shoot at Darknesses and other stuff that scares him a lil, as a treat.
heres the thing. i enjoy well done heavy subject matter, you can look at my track record of interests as evidence for that, but i do think writers who wont shut up about how complicated and controversial they are for including ~dark themes~ in their writing need to a christmas carol style be forced to sit down and watch all 4 seasons of 13 reasons why to see what happens if you try to incorporate a bunch of heavy stuff in your work with 0 research or regard for people affected
slight clarification: people in the tags are saying "yea there needs to be levity between heavy moments for a story to be effective", which is also very true! but not what this post is about. this post is about how if you write about abuse and murder and oppression but you dont actually know what youre talking about or have a purpose for including it beside shock value and proving how mature you are your work will read like it was written by a twelve year old
GSGW au where everything is pretty much the same except KSE buys the blood cutlery kit from the Alien shop and creates a glock in the specialised equipment.
Maybe he can get to shoot at Darknesses and other stuff that scares him a lil, as a treat.
There were rumours even from back when 'She' was still a subsidiary god of Flegrea.
Amanises heard about the God 'Who' brought back the sun, well, created the sun to everyone else.
It didn't take too much time for 'Her' to have suspicions about 'Him' being another remnant from the now ancient Earth.
Still when 'She' walked through 'His' divine kingdom and saw the blatant plagiarism of Christianity, it made a tiny part of 'Her' guffaw at the brazenness.
At least it's good to know this kind of backwards gratification can increase humanity. Amanises mused inwardly.
Although this level of surface thought was equivalent to speaking out loud to a Spectator at the level of a Great Old One, 'She' allowed 'Herself' a moment of mirth as 'She' stepped into the chambers.
There was a sense of holiness within.
Tall, arching columns that resembled Greek ruins Amanises from 'Her' travels before the cataclysm, frames that resembled stained glass with designs that had no meaning aside from drawing one's gaze towards an ornate statue in the center.
Despite the inherent cathedral elements, there were domestic furniture.
Amanises could see stands that resembled desks and the 'pews' looking more like comfortable sofas of a soft fabric rather than the wooden structure in a typical church.
'She' saw a priest-like figure sitting on one of the seats facing the statue while looking at a ring between 'His' fingers from the corner of 'Her' eyes.
"You arrived." The God spoke, 'His' hair were an ink-like black with blond roots, 'He' wore a simple robe, almost priestlike, as 'He' turned a small ring,— Envisioned, Amanises assumed.— between 'His' fingers repeatedly.
Had 'She' not known of his rumoured omniscience from 'His' pathway and the earlier greeting, Amanises might have assumed 'He' was ignoring 'Her'.
The ring was a smaller size than 'His' fingers with a design like laurel leaves coiling on the surface dotted by a simple open lotus design.
There were 3 gems in the center, a black and golden-yellow gem with a blue-ish grey one in the middle, the largest middle gem reached the borders of the ring in a swirling pattern.
The skin and fur on 'Her' body suddenly felt humid, it felt as though 'She' was being slowly boiled alive, an increasing and simultaneously decreasing pressure made Amanises endure being akin to a small boat lost in a storm.
Amanises 'concealed' part of the effects on 'Her' body.
…Doesn't change much… As expected of a Great Old One's passive abilities.
Amanises nodded, faintly, 'She' could see some characters carved on the inside of the ring, Amanises thought it looked quite like Chinese character.
The One-Above-The-Sequences turned 'His' head to face 'Her' after a few heartbeats.
"Are 'You' curious?"
'He' ignored whether Amanises replied or not.
'He' spoke, limpid eyes facing the ring once more, although 'His' position was facing Amanises this time, "It's a wedding ring I made for 'My' коханий."
'She' did not ask for elaboration, the cataclysm made whoever 'His' lover was' fate have few options.
And since 'He' had no-one beside 'Him', it meant that 'His' fiancee perished during the cataclysm. Simple as that.
Amanises has grown used to such endings.
"—…'You' needn't be so cautious, after all I must say I consider 'Us' something almost akin to allies for being from the same 'Time'."
"Almost?"
"Such immediate trust is unbecoming of both of 'Us'. I'm certain 'You' and I did not survive this far with naivete."
Amanises gave a non-commital reply to that.
"Haha," 'He' made the sounds of laughing, however it appeared almost uncanny with how empty 'His' eyes were.
…It's a bit hypocritical considering how 'She' also had the same blank face devoid of human emotions most of the times.
'He' looked at 'Her' with those limpid gold eyes that seemed to peer into all 'Her' secrets, desires, and every facet that made 'Her' 'Amanises' like an open book for 'Him' to browse.
"But… Even with such a tentative 'allyship' I'm inclined to assist 'You' in 'Your' request, so long as 'You' agree with one of 'Mine.'" The God explained.
'He' was so genial throughout 'Their' meeting, it almost felt like the two of 'Them' were old friends chatting rather than a Great Old One and an Angel trying to become a True God.
"Shouldn't 'You' state 'Your' terms first? After all how can I agree with 'Our' cooperation with such vague conditions." Amanises pointed out the unspoken difference between 'Them.'
A pair of 'Her' arms crossed 'Themselves' while another with dark fur growing on it reached towards 'Him' in an open motion. The gesture was merely 'Her' pointing out 'His' manners rather than any demand.
'She' was well aware that 'He' was of a much higher position than 'Hers.'
"I suppose…— My request is rather simple, I won't lie and say it would be easy but, I'm certain you won't refuse."
Smooth strokes of white glides across the large wall as 'He' painted a new mural depicting the Lord's sons.
Menaces, both of 'Them' may be,—And particularly the younger one Ouroboros remarked,— In a painting 'They' appear harmless and innocent.
Patches of shimmering gold stretch above the sky painting a brilliant sun that gave a divine glow against the beings present within the mural.
'He' blended shades together in broad colours that layered on top of each other giving a sense that the mural could reach out and come to life.
Ouroboros continued to layer shades transforming the once divine white wall into an increasingly complex scenery. A moment eternally frozen in time that depicted The Lord and 'His' sons as center.
"'My' коханий would enjoy your works." A smooth voice, rich like a fine-aged wine filled the gentle silence that was previously only containing the soft sound of brush against a wall.
Ouroboros paused, 'He' turned 'His' head towards The Lord, 'He' bowed 'His' head, the hand that did not hold a brush tapped against 'His' chest in a formal greeting.
'He' did not know how long the Lord stood there due to The Lord's control over 'His' psychological invisibility but Ouroboros did not ask.
Ouroboros did not ask about the divine 'коханий' either for none of the King Of Angels were permitted to know any more than The Lord graciously told.
Herabergen's punishment remained an eternal lesson and example for the crime of such arrogance after all.
Ouroboros only lifted 'His' head once The Lord told 'Him' to continue 'His' paintings.
Yet despite the precise and measured strokes of 'His' paintings, Ouroboros' mind wandered back to the fabled 'коханий', a Divine Consort whom is hidden from prying eyes. 'He' only knew of alluded tales passed around The Lord's divine kingdom.
…
Ouroboros wondered once, when 'He' was younger and new to 'His' position.
If the Divine Consort was The Lord's eternal and only spouse, then why were 'They' not present in the scriptures? And a more pressing question.
How come Ouroboros was never ordered to paint a mural to depict 'Them'?
…
As of now, the most common theory was that The 'коханий' was asleep and a potential backlash via believer's imprint was far too risky to have 'Them' be depicted with form.
It's a bit of a lax theory with many holes but it was also the most believable one. Ouroboros mused as 'He' added a particular glint onto Amon's monocle.
A sliver of reflection of the bright sun inside the frame.
"Someday, you'll be able to see 'Him.' Perhaps my 'коханий' will allow you to paint 'Him' 'His' portrait," The Lord mused gazing at the mural of 'His' two children.
The 'коханий' was a 'He'? Ouroboros momentarily pondered The Lord's words, 'He' gazed at the stained handle of 'His' brush, pretending not to notice the way The Lord seemed to pat the painted Amon in the mural.
Amon was The Lord's son, it was evident from the curve of 'His' eyebrows to the contour of 'His' face but unbidden a thought rose from within Ouroboros head.
Maybe, the child resembled 'His' other parent… The thogught made Ouroboros bow 'His' head subconsciously for 'His' supposed heresy of unintentionally finding out a part the 'коханий's' appearance.
The Lord murmured softly that Ouroboros could only vaguely hear the words.
"It's such a shame that 'I' won't be able to see it in person in the future."
The completed mural was gorgeous as always, a brilliant center of The Lord holding 'His' sons with the Kind Of Angels watching on the side.
The background consisted of a brilliant sun in the sky paired with a strange, yet always present fog that gleamed a multitude of iridescent colours, a continuous presence, courtesy of The Lord's request from even the first murals.
And although slightly blasphemous, a young Ouroboros once wondered if the sun existed to compliment the eternal fog rather than the opposite when 'He' painted 'His' first mural.
Medici always prided himself on being one of the first Angels to follow The Lord, 'He' was the one who watched as The Lord rose to 'His' rightful seat of power.
'He' was the one who was The Lord's blade, the one who slayed enemies and protected The Lord's kingdom from the start.
And, 'He' was the first to hear about The Lord's tales of 'His' beloved, 'The Consort Lost To Time' as The Lord put it.
Not Gone, but Lost.
The first tale 'He' told Medici was about how someday The Lord's 'коханий' will wake up and rise above to heights befitting of 'Their' station just as The Lord once did.
The Lord wasn't fond of sharing much tales, a demeanor as such befitted 'His' position of course, only a fool would treat someone who was far below 'His' throne such as Medici as an equal.
Medici knowing of so much of the Consort was simultaneously a show of 'His' long-standing postion and a show of The Lord's graciousness to share a portion of 'His' knowledge.
After all The Lord was a generous deity, one that was praised to have love for the whole world compared to the Ancient Gods who only 'loved' themselves.
But it was also a bit ironic. Medici often thought, that from the Kings of Angels' perspective, the world appeared more of an allegory for a specific 'someone'.
A heretic's idea.
Herabergen was the only one arrogant enough to listen to that idea and challenge it directly by asking The Lord.
The Lord in 'His' mercy simply smiled.
'His' voice at that time was smooth and unperturbed like a rich wine.
When 'He' spoke the subject appeared to be towards Herabergen, that old dragon, but 'His' eyes, a calm lake covered by frost, one that appeared to be coiling inwards towards an inperceptible depth.
The words that left The Lord's lips contained a vast imprint of ancient wisdom honed by lengths of time.
It was both a vague confirmation and a command for the angels to mind their own station when it came to rumours.
Medici nodded softly, 'He' alongside the others were mere 'he' in the presence of The Lord's might, such an order was a reasonable development.
The other subject remains an unsaid thought burrowing deep within however. Medici mused at the time. How in a twist of the idea, the entirety of epochs summed in books, were no more than something akin to a love letter to 'Someone lost.'
Such a thing was fitting for the Lord's beloved.
"Well fine, but you can shut up about the past now." A groan interjected.
Medici drawled in that tone that was sure to raise one's blood pressure by double… Provided that someone had blood pressure in the first place unlike the pair of vengeful spirits.
"One would think someone like you would at least have the brains to be patient in the answer of your own question." Medici waved 'His' hand in a provoking manner.
"—But, I suppose such a thing would be too difficult for two impatient little princesses. Hah!"
A gash opened on the side of the Man's cheek, it was a fleshy wound that moved around and mimicked the appearance of a mouth.
The visual seemed fitting for a ghastly being hidden under a dark tomb-like place.
"'Princesses..?' 'Hah…?' I suppose a moron laughs at his own jokes doesn't he, actually, need I remind you who was the first to be vanquished among us?"
Another gash curled open in mock pity.
"'We' don't even need to do that, he's already delusional enough to be talking about a Deranged God's supposed 'might. ' Heh heh… If I need to be talking about vanquished, his mind was dead long before the killing making it easy."
The two voices talking in a mocking lilt belonged to Sauron and Einhorn respectively. The duo teaming up to rad down on Medici made an amusing appearance considering how all 3 were stuck in one body.
Medici snorted, the passive provocations of the 2 did nothing to 'Him' "With how weak your attempts to rile me up were, I'll suggest you two to just swallow a demoness potion for utility since the provocateur potion doesn't seem to help you one bit."
'His' eyes widen slightly as if reaching a profound conclusion.
"Ah, but I suppose you two would even prefer having breasts and a wet spot would you?" An insulting cackle filled the air drowning out the loud yells and curses originating from Medici's cheeks at the remark.
Medici was busy drowning his swears and curses under the burn of strong liqueur, a personal preference as his humanity increased from the stress accumulated from his newfound babysitting duty.
Ouroboros was busy replenishing and stocking up his paints and painting supplies on his break.
A task that took a tremendous amount of time considering he preferred making his paints by hand, the time his task took increased considering that the majority of what paints he used came from hard to secure plants or precious beasts.
Such a fixation on supplies came from his rarely-appearing perfectionist attitude about his job given by 'The Lord' it also meant he was likely in some deep jungle or stormy mountain or neverending desert searching for the right shade of… Whatever colour he was searching for.
Herabergen was Aucuses in an old but cherished church made by mortals.
Aucuses was busy preaching about the magnificence of the 'Sun' to the newly initiated King of Angels dragon.
Leodero was off governing and controlling a section of the sea that used to belong to Sony-air-rhythm-whats-his-name to help integrate the rash elves and helping them 'adjust' to their changed and new but old home under the mercy of the Sun.
Sasrir was drowning under paperwork like always. Actually might be the literal term for drowning considering the paperwork was a scant few centimeters from reaching the ceiling…
Sasrir resembled his pathway's degenerate nature by how much he looked like he was on last stage of rotting and decomposition.
Perfect.
Nearly everyone that would interfere with Amon's curiosity in favour of boring adult drivel was unable to interfere one way or another.
Amon checked on the state of 'His' fath-… On the state of the King of Angels, one last time.
Today Amon was embarking on one of 'His' most dangerous adventures just yet.
…Partially on account of 'Me' being 5 months old. Amon mentally tried to justify the risks, for fun.
It wasn't like Amon would have not done this even if 'He' was older, or that it was inherently more dangerous because 'He' was younger it was dangerous irregardless.
Amon contemplated for a moment as 'He' stood on a patch of Overgrown wild grass.
There was a perfectly maintained road that was paved with large stones and small stones of different shades leading to an ancient looking building a couple steps next to 'Him' that 'He' could go on.
Except Amon was 99% sure that road was warded to the Astral World and back judging by the faint spirituality clinging on specific stones that occasionally sparkled like stars.
So, Amon stood on overgrown grass that reached towards the middle of 'His' torso instead. Shame, Amon looked over the paved road with faux mourning, It would be quite fun to pick apart such a complex set of enchantments.
'He' leisurely walked towards a scenery that looked as if wet paint blurred into a kaleidoscope at times, and at others a regular background one would find in the mundane reality.
When 'He' was a short distance away, measured by the yawning maw of 'Authority' that rivaled a divine kingdom's natural defense that reached out like pinpricks of dozens of swords measuring 'His' danger.
Amon smirked slightly, 'He' adjusted 'His' monocle, the glass glinted with a peculiar light. The 'flicker' of light shined with a faint iridescence of colours.
Amon reached out 'His' hand and parasitized a couple blades of grass that quickly died under the 'Authority' given conceptual form repeatedly.
A few seconds passed as Amon continuously used tiny amounts of 'His' beyonder powers, directed at small insignificant beings without sapience or as little intellectual capabilities such as bugs, grass or fallen leaves.
Amon did not 'think' about 'His' actions and used a loophole to simplify 'His' actions as a loop with specialized intermediaries.
Without proper thoughts and only pre-determined actions Amon had greatly reduced 'His' chances of being 'noticed!'
Amon 'parasitized' a caterpillar that was eating grass on the boundary of the barrier. Yet—
When the 'Authority' condensed towards 'Him',— An action that vaporised the caterpillar before the entity was even touched.— Amon was already inside!
The previous parasitism was a lure! 'He' diguised 'His' usage of his cryptologist abilities by having an Amon clone decryptify another Amon in the form of a microbe latched onto 'His' monocle performed the parasitism!
'His' action of reaching out 'His' hand deceived the idea of that being the trigger for the human-shaped clone's parasitism while in actuality that clone was performing decrypting.
The reason why the caterpillar eating was relevant was because 'He' used the loophole of consumption is equivalent to the act of 'stealing' a different being's nutrients for oneself into 'His' parasitism being a different form of stealing one's identity.—
-Into Amon stealing the identity of that blade of grass, is now equivalent Amon parasitizing the grass itself!
Therefore when the 'Authority' decimated only the parasitized caterpillar, there was a brief moment,—Not even counting as a second,— where the eaten/parasite Amon was touching the inside of the boundary alive.
'He' grasped that moment and swapped the 'status' of Grass Amon's location inside the domain and its safety from being viewed as an 'enemy' to be erased with the main body's location and status as 'enemy'.
Thus, achieving 'His' predetermined set of actions to get inside!
Amon allowed a moment of self-gratification for 'His' immaculate plan, and to check on the loophole of 'enemy status' being eliminated.
Seeing that 'His' existence still inside and relatively unharmed, Amon started to walk towards the now-visible building in the distance.
'He' would have stolen the distance to quicken the journey if not for 'Him' needing to be hidden and nondescript.
Amon leisurely walked, occasionally hiked around the jagged roots of tall trees that grew so high 'He' was unsure if 'He' could have surpassed the trees if 'He' took on 'His' crow form and flew up.
The long path littered with sparkling stones and white chalk lines connecting certain shimmer to one another was one the 'He' followed but never stepped onto.
Nevertheless the limited contact still allowed 'Him' a path to not get lost in the shifting scenery, real yet fake, a psychological illusion at certain spots and a constantly changing physical terrain at other spots.
The attention to detail was something Amon didn't need to be a spectator pathway beyonder to notice the unhealthy obsession behind it.
…Worrying, Amon felt the way the remnants of spiritual energy curled possessively around the air.
The possessiveness was one 'He' believed to be the kind a collector would have towards their most treasured object, a logical idea when Amon was at the border where these… emotions were weaker.
This kind of emotional attachment, Amon used far greater energy to merely walk than was reasonable, I felt less obsession about the blasphemy slate than I do here.
Amon could sense 'His' worms squirming under the burning heat.
—Even the Chaos Sea doesn't get this much territoriality about it! Just what is hidden here!? Amon abruptly stopped where the nature formed a distinct border.
Amon stood on sharp wild grass, eyeinng the meticulously arranged scenery right beyond the border.
The burning heat stops at the edge between nature and paved ground.
Unfortunately, instead of heat of a thousand suns, it was replaced by a spiritual wall.
A very distinguishable spiritual wall that screams the identity of its maker at the top of its lungs.
"…"
…
Amon opened the gates of a nondescript building.
The building was rather tall, but was a boring shade of grey with little decorations aside from the bare minimum of design.
'He' was very much not meant to be able to be even 1 centimeter too close to the spiritual wall, however through a very hidden loophole of familial relation, Amon managed to convince the spiritual wall that 'He' technically wasn't entering but as if the 'concept' of a spiritual barrier involved Amon.
I have abooouutt~ less than 30 minutes to stay here.
Standing on a stairway and using 'His' decrypting ability, Amon noticed that while doors of equal size and appearance were attached to the building in increments.—
Only two were capable of being opened, the one with a door label 3112, and another with the number scratched off. With a quick thought, 'He' chose to go to the one on the upper floor.
Part of the reason was how the 3112 door had the imprint of a Sefirot, Amon is capable of deceiving the spiritual wall but 'He' was certain that at 'His' level right now,—And especially after 'His' recent spiritual drain,— Amon would be recognized immediate.
Amon used the door unlocking ability of a sequence 7 of the Apprentice pathway 'He' stole to open the unlabeled door.
The inside was a rather tiny room, there was a small lift from the entryway. A tiny rug with a word in a language 'He' didn't recognize stopped slightly lopsided near the 'fenced' floor.
Two different pairs of shoes were placed on the lower floor.
One pair was a smooth black colour made of what appeared to be leather placed neatly side by side. Another was a pair of boots stacked haphazardly around as if the owner took them off in a hurry.
Amon guesses that the shoes belonged to two different people judging by the slight difference in size. Or, perhaps the differences mimicked a faceless' need for many disguises?
Amon glanced at the other placements of object, fully taking the scenery.
The walls were a dull, monotone shade of white, although the colours contained a slight blue-grey to it. A painting, highly realistic to the point it resembled a snapshot in time hanged on the wall by the door.
Cups were placed upside down with the exception of two shoddily made clay cups placed side by side on a wooden table.
Handmade? Amon picked up one of the misshapened cup with a rather bad painting on the side of a black oval-like blob with two pointy triangles growing out of the side.
scratched on the bottom of the clay was a zig-zag and a half circle with a line going inside separated by a poked hole.
On the other that was completely painted in blue except for the interior of the cup also had scratches on the bottom, this one was a vertical zigzag and a horizontal zigzag separated by a dot.
Amon wondered what the scratches meant. 'He' placed the two objects back right where they were with no change to position, hiding traces of 'His' actions as much as possible.
Further explorations showed the strange space behind the wooden table to be a kitchen, a simple bathroom with minimal decoration aside from a large mirror.
Two side-facing brushes, a yellow and green were placed next to each other inside a ceramic. The bristles were rather soft giving a strange sensation when Amon ran 'His' thumb through it.
Amon felt disappointed slightly from the lack of things inside the strange room. If anything, the building was more similar to an inn that gave high class rooms with more than just a bed rather than a top secret 'He' expected.
..Perhaps, the one on the lower floor will yield more results, Amon mused as 'He' opened the last door inside the quarters.
Inside it, a large bed, around the size where it was capable of fitting two grown men side by side was the focal point. Next to the bed, there was a drawer with papers and clock scattered on top.
Amon noticed a peculiar addition of a single yellow-ish brown parchment neatly folded in the center.
-By an open window, a large wooden desk was similarly scattered with papers, a few books were arranged on top, a sole image featuring two men together inside a standing frame was by the side; back facing the window.
Amon froze.
'His' bored smirk slid off 'His' face. Inside the image, one featured a very familiar blond man the only differences was the lack black hair running down 'His' head, the man was smiling at the other person in the image.
The other person who looked like Amon.
How?— Amon turned towards the folded piece of parchment, 'He' opened the folds, ; 'His' hands didn't tremble but a small part of 'Him' felt 'His' beliefs shake.
"███"
"…" The words on the parchment was in a language 'He' did not understand. It remained incomprehensible even by using 'His' decrypting abilities.
Amon still scanned his eyes through the words, Amon paused when 'He' saw letters 'He' could understand.
One of the words was 'His' name, Amon, and the other one was—
'Adam'
—'He' immediately stole distance to get away, the parchment immediately hidden inside 'His' sleeves.
Amon paused when 'He' was only able to get to the entrance.
"…!"
'He' squinted 'His' eyes, Amon slowly turned around, Adam was behind 'Him' staring with limpid eyes.
How long was—
"I've been following behind you ever since 'you' thought about Father's King of Angels being occupied," Adam closed 'His' eyes as if disappointed.
'His' smile was still there but it was now visible that 'He' was irritated in the way that was silently telling Amon: 'You can get into trouble yourself, I'm not going to be dragged down with you.'
"You should go put that letter back." Adam says in the tone that booked no arguments.
Amon's splendid reply was-
"Nuh-uh"
Amon stole the location of one of 'His' clones, swapping 'His' locations with 'Himself.'
Amons then collectively stole each other's distances from each other, changing 'His' main body's locations, then using the previous thefts of distance 'He' made a loophole about 'His' location.
Amon then used the loophole to change 'His' coordinates into being in the spirit world, a distraction from Amon actually being in the physical world.
As a result 'His' sight blurred as the world appeared to blend together in saturated colours like a melting oil painting.
The reds became redder, the blues became blue-er, the blacks appeared stronger and the light seemed to devour-
e
v
e
r
y
thing.
Amon sensed as the worlds seem to bleed onto one another, using the spirit world as foundation to 'bug' the system made the resulting loopholes that popped up harder to control, Noted.
'He' detected Adam starting to write a script and created a few more distractions using 'His' clones as 'He' hopped around locations. (Read: Catastrophes to anyone who isn't an angel at minimum.)
"—This is a reasonable development."
"—This is a reasonable development."
Amon heard the words reverbate through the collective 'will' of 'His' clones.
'He' abruptly changed locations with a clone in an attempt to escape only to bump 'His' head.
—? Amon cradled 'His' head, 'His' abilities went haywire apparently seeing as 'He' was not on the coast of a large lake.
"Amon." Amon heard 'His' father's voice.
…Uh, Amon froze, 'He' looked up and saw 'His' father looking at 'Him' with a blank and eerie expression.
'His' father raised an eyebrow, the temperature felt as though it was boiling slowly.
Every single fic update there is an author trying frantically to find the right balance between a nonchalant aside of "leave a comment if you enjoyed =)" and clinging desperately to the coat tails of a random stranger, dragging along behind them on the street wailing "Please, please! I have to know what you thought! I'm desperate to talk to people about this! Ask me about the alliterative repetition! Ask me about the symbolism!"
Klein, in the identity of Sherlock Moriarty, a detective famed for finding lost pets and catching adulterers was in a hidden gathering for Beyonders, trying to find more way to defend himself after his streak of bad luck lately.
Isn't this too ironic? Klein lampooned, the corners of his mouth would have twitched upwards deprecatingly had it not been for the clown's powers.
Sigh, it appears the title 'The King in Yellow and Black who wields good luck' is an empty promise, someone who 'wields' good luck might not have a single good luck streak in their life!
"—I have a low-mid ranking sealed artifact, price is either the formula for sequence 8 potion of the Bard pathway or 800 pounds." A short and stout person under a copper mask spoke.
"A-ah, Sir, Miss, whoever, you must know you have to list it's abilities or else nobody will be willing to buy it." The apothecary with a tendency to provoke others raised his hand and yelled out from his corner.
"Alright." The person in a copper mask showed a small snowglobe that could be covered with 2 hands.
"I call this the Dream globe, once shaken thoroughly or thrown towards a person, the closest person to it will fall into a deep nightmare, if one stays inside for more than 5 minutes the person will die showing a face of extreme fear."
The robed person who Klein believed to be a stout bard paused before speaking again.
"…The negative side is that it has a high chance to make its owner experience those nightmares as well. Oh and it's less effective the higher the sequence."
…The beyonder powers of a Nightmare? Klein immediately recognized the pathway behind it from his time with the Nighthawks.
Although it's quite cheap for the sequence, that's likely from the negative effects. To be frank, even if the negative effects weren't so bad Klein wouldn't have bought it anyways because he couldn't afford it.
"…" Seeing no-one try to buy it the copper-masked person slowly put the artifact back into a silver container.
Following that there were only a couple more deals that ended shortly.
Alongside 1-2 requests, a shoddily attempted 'mission' request was disguised as friendly information shared for the group that ended with people jeering at the poor attempt to get others to do the mission for free.
Soon the meeting came to a close and the "Eye of Wisdom" lead everyone to go out between intervals.
Klein was patiently waiting for his turn to leave when the person who tried to sell the Dream Globe came up to him.
"Hey, you…" The 2 of them stayed in awkward silence for a moment. "…Be careful of dreams for a while… Uh, the artifact reacted to you, oh this is normal it has a living characteristic so sometimes it favours a person."
Klein cuts the conversation "Why didn't you mention it?" "…I thought I'd get less people who'd want it if I did."
"…"
"…"
Klein felt momentarily speechless.
Isn't this a bit too far? Klein lampooned, lamenting at both his bad luck and cursing the audacity of the person who tried to sell the artifact in his heart.
"Oh don't worry it'll wear off in a week at most. And it won't all be nightmares too! It could be good dreams, the whole point is just trying to trap you in it forever." The copper-masked beyonder did a 'thumbs up' and 'invention' by Roselle that rose Klein's blood pressure every time.
Klein resisted the urge to yell at the one in front of him that it wasn't a matter of 'not worrying' when The "Eye of Wisdom" told him that it was his turn to leave.
Hearing that, Klein did a breathing excercise his mom used to do and asked the beyonder if there was anything else.
"No… It's a very superficial attachment, heh heh, if you believe in the Eternal Blazing Sun, or know a beyonder with the powers to 'cleanse' that would remove any remnant harm."
Klein nodded and turned to follow the way out. Once I go back perhaps I'll go to the space above the Grey Fog to see if it could cleanse it.
To him, there was still the Sun Brooch and there was the chance to make new sun charms, of course they won't be as good as the Flaring Sun charms from Tingen but the charms could provide some back up help.
Klein planned a few more methods to rid himself of the 'attachment' from the sealed artifact, feeling as though there was someone faintly laughing at him.
…Grisha would tease me about this if he knew. The sudden thought made Zhou Mingrui freeze. After a few heartbeats Klein continued walking albeit slower than before.
If I… If I never did the Luck Enhancement Ritual, would I still have been in my Old world with Grisha…?
Back in Tingen, A family was chatting, laughter interrupting every few sentences, 3 siblings were joinged by a young blond. Maybe Melissa and Grisha would have chatted about sciences. Maybe Klein would've jokingly teased about their smarts.
Grisha would team with Klein against Seeka and Frye in cards, ah, he likely wouldn't be much help. Grisha had a habit of paying too much attention to his own plans to recognize other's.
Maybe he—
…What's the point of thinking about this? All I can do is strive to go home faster.
Klein inwardly sighed, lately he's been seeing his lover whenever he slept, the imaginings made him briefly wonder if this was a subconcious divination of sort, or maybe a yearning for Grisha instead.
He did attempt to find out but the vast variety of experiences,— ranging from simple retellings of their past romance, to a very weird…experience where Grisha prostrated and apologized for cheating,— made the divination obsolete.
Klein pushed the matters into the back of his head with some cogitation.
Yet, unbiddened, His day was interrupted by countless 'what ifs?' centered around a certain Blond Ukrainian.
The only good thing about being alone here is that it's better that Grisha is safe and at home rather than me. The corners of Klein's lip twitched.
A while after Klein got home he poured himself a cup of coffee, one sweetened, tinged with just the slightest hint of cream.
Zhou Mingrui felt the curl of fog come from his breath before he fully stepped outside his apartment. The thick jacket he had on swayed gently with the wind rushing like a playful tease.
Grisha was already standing by entrance at the bottom. He fussed with the hems of his sleeves as he waited, grooming himself last minutely.
He saw Mingrui come out and smiled gently.
"A-rui." He spoke, his accent a gentle trace through the vowels.
Zhou liked the accent, he thought it gave Grisha a subtle charm, …Not that I'd ever tell him that. His big head barely fits the doorframe!
Zhou Mingrui's face twitched, he murmured, "Hey." Leaning his head toward's Grisha's and walked together towards their destination.
Sometime along the way Grisha held his hand, it was such a subtle action it took Zhou a moment to catch on.
He felt a tinge of worry that 2 men walking while holding hands would be an eye catching matter but the sights of other people around them made him feel like an NPC in a game.
There was a blonde lady having a conversation with a weirdly intelligent looking golden retriever. An old man with a beard and side burn,— just one side,— that resembled wolf fur chatting with a lady Mingrui assumes to be his sister.
A long, red haired and handsome man with gashes on his cheek being chased by 2 other burly yet handsome men and hit by a rolled up newspaper and a purple high-heeled sandal.
The sight of the man being chased made Zhou worried but hearing the provocations that came out of the guy's mouth made him want to beat the red-head himself.
It took a great deal of maturity that allowed Mingrui to resist joining the chase and ganging up on the provoker.
Aside from that there was this artist painting large mural covering an entire wall who had a relatively large crowd watching him.
Grisha and him stopped for a moment to watch the progression of the mural beside 2 other blonds before continuing their way.
As they walked past, Zhou Mingrui saw a signature on the edge of the painting. "-By Ouroboros."
Zhou made a mental note to look up that name later to search for the artist.
The pair of men continued walking, occasionally taking a short stop here or there to catch some unusual sights.
"Ah, Mingrui, over there is the new Cathedral, they just finished building it a few weeks ago."
Grisha pointed at a church that resembled more like a castle with religious elements from the 19th century rather than a newly established cathedral as of a couple weeks.
Mingrui whispered to Grisha, "If you hadn't told me, and if I hadn't been here before I would have assumed this was an ancient chapel rather than a modern building."
"pfft—" The Ukrainian blond coughed, snickers bubbling from Grisha's throat, albeit slightly muffled by the man's palm.
A soft chuckle left Zhou's lips at his colleague's odd sense of humour.
Zhou Mingrui turned his head back away from Grisha and onto a bench in front the Cathedral's gate where a gentle-looking blond priest holding a chubby crow with a ring of white around its right eye like a monocle sat.
When that those 2 sit there? Mingrui felt a bit of confusion, he glanced at Grisha about to ask before having a second-thought at Grisha's furrowed brows and reddened face from trying not to laugh.
"'His' name is Amon." The priest with limpid eyes wearing a cross spoke out, walking towards them. The crow waddled beside the man like a polite goblin with feathers in a monocle.
Zhou politely smiled back, "Well, hello there Amon."
Grisha nodded in greetings to the priest and crow both.
The gentle-mannered priest smiled and asked "Have the 2 of you been walking for a while?"
Mingrui opened his mouth to say that it 'hasn't been that long' before closing his mouth in confusion.
'Klein' turned his head around to look where they came from.
A large expanse of Shanghai stretched behind them.
"It's only been…" Klein felt his voice echo in silence as the people, Grisha, the blond priest, Amon, the crow with a white ring like a monocle around his right eye blurred like a saturated oil painting.
The dream felt silent before it melted and evaporated into pristine fog.
"Klein," Leonard started, voice smooth but tense, his hands fidgeting with his red gloves.
"…Yes?"
"Were you ever going to tell me that your ex-fiancee is the True Creator or was I supposed to find that out from a bunch of mad Aurora Order cultists trying to kidnap you."
"……Grisha is who?"
A/N:
Klein: I can explain- (‘◉⌓◉’)
Leonard: Are you sure this explanation won't make things worse?
Klein: … I can no longer explain ⁄(⁄ ⁄•⁄-⁄•⁄ ⁄)⁄
----------
FIRST CHAPTER DONE LESSGOO
sigh, over 1.4k words, but I also deleted like 5k worth of content because of the damn confession scene so really I don't know if this is gud or bad.... Anyways first chapter below<3
Elder Lovia coughed out a bit of flesh, the words freshly imprinted onto her memory rang.
Puzzled, the Elder in purple robes tilted her head, "The Fool who doesn't belong in this era?"
…
Somewhere, in a place with red skies that loomed above like a cave of dark red flesh; a man was hung upside by chains upon a resplendent cross.
Feathers fell softly in the seemingly endless place. It was a serene and beautiful image, it was a grotesque and horrifying image, the sight that remained unchanged stuttered for the first time in a long time.
The man, known by many as the True Creator, rattled in 'His' bindings.
'His' gaze fixated on an "imprint" that left the faint presence of fog and squirming maggots for an indiscernible amount of time.
It was almost ironic, had 'He' been just a smidge weaker, had the presence behind the interference inject just a smidge less spirituality, had a single change during the encounter between the boy in the Forsaken Land of Gods this would not have had happened.
Softly and quietly, the "image" of fog and worms and whispered secrets behind a resplendent castle dispersed as though it had never been there at all.
Not a single speck of the Divine Realm was altered, black feathers still fell faithfully from the skies, blood, thick and dense still clung onto the Hanged man's frame.
But the ever present razings within shifted just slightly.
It didn't stop, the crazed murmurs never did.
It simply…
Condensed; The previously chaotic backdrop of forbidden knowledge, the loud vengeful promises of a betrayal oh so blasphemous, and the soft, almost sweet yearning for a past forgotten to time.
Quieted towards a specific obsession; the anchor of worship by a man who once commanded thousands and still does.
A worship aimed at a being who the grand machinations of epochs was devoutly presented towards, a being who received love letters in the form of whole epochs.
The anchor remained an ever present hum in the back of 'His' mind, twisted and deformed as it was the once pure 'love' remained, similarly twisted by isolation by time.
The man rattled in 'His' chains binding 'Him' to a cross hanging above the sky again and again.
'He' leaned towards the 'position' where the conjured "image" dissipated, 'His' eye widened, the movement had skin cracking bits of dried blood with its shift.
The man who's name was forgotten against the bearing of divinity uttered a name that 'He', 'Himself' refused to forget.
"…Mingrui?" The name had been an ever present echo in 'His' divine kingdom, yet for the first time in a long time the underlying tone was not somber and grieving but hopeful instead.
The scent of disinfectant lingers around the sterile lab, the smell faintly pressing against the entirety of the building in differing quantities.
Two overworked young men stayed in overtime, an occasional leaving to fetch coffee from down the hall here and there.
Two cups, one sweetened, another stayed dark.
It was a mundane ritual between the two.
One of the men, Zhou Mingrui was a software engineer, small curses murmured during a particular time where the code refused to work stopped midway as a warm cup of coffee lightly tapped his cheek, soft as a kiss.
"Hm? I might not be fluent in Mandarin but even I can sense that the fairy's not happy." The sentence in english was spoken by the other man.
The word 'fairy' was an ongoing joke between them about a variety of linguistic humour.
Zhou Mingrui sighed in defeat.
His hand went to grab the cup from the blond's hands before the man suddenly placed down the 2 cups of coffee down on the desk table.
Peeking at the containers, he found out that one was slightly… Different.
They both appeared to be similar shades of wet dirt (as was all cheap coffee found in office lounges of course.)
—However one had a green hand-cover decorated by watercolour leaves and smelled sweet almost like… Honey?
"…Grisha?"
"Mhm."
"Did you buy this from the cafe I told you about?"
"Hmmm…" The blond pretended to seriously ponder the question.
A look of serious concentration that,—although not entirely out of place in the Nuclear research center, a collaboration between China and Ukraine in 2015.— was quite exaggerated for the question.
Zhou Mingrui stared flatly at Grisha; Grisha stroked an imaginary long beard evident by how his fingers were grasping at the air.
"Perhaps…" A somber baritone prompted.
Zhou Mingrui quirked an eyebrow, irritating and nonworking code forgotten in the shared moment between 2 men.
"…I might've gone in the morning, it might've been kind of foggy by the way, And! I might've nearly got lost!" Grisha nods as if saying 'could you believe it?'
Zhou Mingrui snorted, taking a sip from the store-bought coffee.
Pretty good… sigh, had I been a woman, I would've assumed Grisha was in love with me! Zhou Lampooned, sighing about the taller man's antics.
Mingrui set the cup down and looked back onto the laptop, he was purposely not looking at Grisha's face for this.
…
The room felt quieter, a tension that didn't have a name (or maybe did) still lingers.
…
Mingrui continued working on the code, albeit less frustrated. Grisha was typing something on the laptop on the desk next to Zhou Mingrui.
The room was silent save for the tapping of keys and rustle of papers.
An interjection was spoken here or there, but otherwise the two stayed focused.
After all they both wanted to go home.
Mingrui took another sip of his coffee, rubbing the space between his eyes when the code started to look like swirls in an unknown language.
"Hey," Mingrui began, voice cutting through a thick atmosphere he didn't want to think about.
Grisha nodded, a silent gesture for him to continue.
"…"
Zhou tapped his index finger against the nail on his thumb habitually.
"…That cafe I told you about,— the one you went to this morning.—"
"—The one I might've gone to." Grisha cuts off the sentence, rolling his chair sideways to face Zhou and pointing a finger at the sky.
Mingrui took a breath, This conversation is going nowhere. "Yes, yes the one you might've gone too. The point is I checked their website, and they're having a new product. It's some type of meat pie?"
"—And," Zhou Mingrui continued, "I wanted to ask if you'd go there with me to try it out… but since you might've already went…"
He let the silence stretch.
…Perhaps letting the conversation go nowhere was better than this, I joked about Grisha acting almost like a smitten school girl with the gifts but I myself am acting like some clingy lover.As Zhou began regretting, the air stuttered as a voice spoke.
"And if we are?" Grisha had a faint blush on his ears.
His hands laid awkwardly half hovering over objects. The hum of the machines felt quieter and louder at the same time.
It felt like the building became a fragile backdrop for the 2 men.
"If I… were truly smittened, and if you, we were a pair of clingy lovers like you said…" I said that out loud?!— "Would it be that bad?"
Y'all if you're American please email your politicians and senators against the parents decide act. I'm fucking begging because we're reaching a tipping point.
Quick and easy link to both find your congressmen/women and giving you a quick and easy way to copy / paste the message into it. You want to oppose. It's an act that will demand that all major OS makers integrate a direct forced age verification control into all OS.
I received a comment on this that I figured would be very helpful- it's a template for communicating with your representatives. Be sure to use it for reference
Dear Representative [Name],
I am writing to express my strong opposition to H.R. 8250 (The "Parents Decide Act"). As your constituent and a concerned citizen, I believe this bill introduces unprecedented risks to digital privacy and security.
Specifically, I am alarmed by:
SEC. 2(a)(1)(B): Requiring age verification to even use an operating system creates a mandatory "hardware lockout" that ends anonymous computing and forces users to hand over sensitive identification data to major corporations just to power on their devices.
SEC. 2(a)(3): Mandating that OS providers create a system for all app developers to access verification data is a massive security vulnerability. This effectively creates a centralized API of user identities accessible to thousands of third-party developers, many of whom may lack adequate data protection.
This bill does not protect children; it creates a centralized surveillance infrastructure at the OS level. I urge you to protect the privacy of your constituents and vote NO on H.R. 8250.
This is a hell that us down under in Australia are already living in, and it’s not even effective at what it claims to do in protecting children.
Given that, in the wake of this mandatory identification policy, my country seems to be moving to hand over its citizens biometric data, like fingerprints, Face ID files, and identification documents, over to the USA and to ICE to maintain the visa free travel (ESTA) we have, I strongly urge any US resident to send these emails, or make calls.
But if you can’t do that, the most powerful thing you can do is spread the word. Tell your friends, family, coworkers, anyone who can help.
My reach will likely be small, and so I don’t know if this will mean very much in the grand scheme of things, but I cannot stand to see this tracking happen to another population as it did to mine.
And if you think it won’t affect you, it will. All anonymity goes out the window when your accounts can be linked via your personal ID
I wish you all luck in preventing this act from going through.
Adding onto this because this could have horror potential too actually, Adam could also be the one making the dreams (it'd actually be a little easier for him I think? because of the Dreamweaver/dreamwalker sequences)
I think Adam and TC would likely have some tacit agreement due to how they're the same person atp in LOTM timeline, maybe? Also poor Klein but what if Adam and TC takes turns almost or just have random moments where one dream it's adam, couple dreams are TC, a few dreams being Adam's design again etc and make him so confused in his own dreams because they act quite different despite being the same.
And it could be an 'imperfect' dreamworld too, like, if someone is dead in real life or in dream world they could be alive next dream and that would mentally suck so bad from the dissociation.
Also neither Adam or TC have good/perfect morals as stated many times in canon due to how long they've been divine and other reasons too.
So I feel that they'd absolutely mess up at least once like REALLY badly, (accidentally/intentionally killing off a dream character only to immediately revive them because Klein got sad or SMTH) only to either place a mental cue to Klein to forgive them or just shrugging it off/rewinding the moment.
But the trauma would very likely stick, and then Klein is just gradually starting to experience a softcore/slow psychological horror in a seemingly perfect Dreamworld, coupled with the cosmic horror that is regular LOTM.
While Adam &/or TC is just having a 'romance' with their lover with ominous background plotting.
Silly Little GSGW au where KSE was a magical boy before going to DER, hahahahahahahahaha am I crashing out from canon? Yes I am, will I be obsessing over this silly lil crack au of Magical Boy Kim Soleum as a coping mechanism?
Au where kse existed in a universe that has magical boys and girls, braun has an enemy for a good friend status aka kse's familiar thingy that u see in kids anime thats the magical persons sidekick.
Whos also coincidentally a fluffy cat, is this foreshadowing? Who knows not KSE that's for sure.
Kse used to be the geeky/nerdy kind of magical person who's secretly a superfan of DER before going to the pop up shop in diguise so that people wont realise he's actually:
