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monarisse · 5 months ago

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— The Hex paradox [arthur nightingale x gn!drifter]

Arthur asks, why are you still here.

You can't believe that he thinks you see them as pets.

SFW, second pov, hurt/comfort, misunderstanding, angst with a happy ending | 3.6k

ao3

There is a flex of a hand — meat under the skin is terribly tense, just like their owner. Long unclipped nails, map of the old scars with pigment just a little bit lighter than everything else. Further: burn, raw marks from laser. Further: a contaminated virus from the elder beast of Deimos. Further-

This is just a body that holds your consciousness when there are no more metallic constructs of dead people that should be controlled. It was... actually, not so horrible to unfold the truth behind the creations of Ballas. Or others. There was always something more than you in these turned-to-be-bones metallic wires and engines. Always lurking in shadow; just not enough to be found, but enough to feel the sudden twitch of a cobalt fingers or unknown step of feet. Sometimes, even more: dance with a weapon, full of joy; murmur in an unknown language; search for something behind the back. Unnecessary. Unasked. Unprovoked. But... familiar, almost to the pain in your drifting mind.

It's ironic — that they all called you The Drifter. Not The Operator — not anymore, at least. Even if there was someone, in this time of the universe, who would gladly use this title on you, it would not be the truth. And you will not allow it. Hundreds of years after all of this, there would be a child with angry eyes and a thirst for power, who changed too much and too little to be completely you again. So you give them the future and keep yourself in the past — it seems right. Especially because (it's ill-fitting, it's wrong, and it's foolish, but deep down it's what makes them and you one person), The Operator can't travel here. They ask in rare times together how it was.

And for you, it's never "was." It's still here.

———

After winter, spring and summer together, they became steadier, softer. Smoother. Happier. Amir sleeps better. Angered only by some unnecessary presence before, now Quincy finds serenity, covering your back on missions. Aoi plays on the borrowed piano from the music store, and Eleanor whispers in your mind stories that she read in the past about Great Britain. Sharpened on the edges Lettie, today holds her hand to yours, so her beasts could crawl on the skin of this body with hushed squeaks, smelling with their little noses acid and kerosene, that scaldra pours on you every day. Lettie clicks her tongue in disappointment when she sees a new wound on the meat of shoulder — because in this body you can't heal as fast as they, and it's hypocritical to come out of frame when they're — the Mighty Hex, batch of soldiers of the future, your Friends, in the end — still here. And-

It's so. Fucking. Funny. A snicker falls from your lips before you can stop it.

Lettie furrows her eyebrows. In her eyes — something eats the previous light joke and fills it with thick tension.

"What did he do?" Anita squeaks, runs to her siblings, and you just blink.

"Who?"

Oh, it's not a secret. You... can guess who she talks about. And Lettie knows it.

"¡Pendejo! You know who. Don't play an owl with me."

Sharp teeth of the future crash into each other. Smile on these lips — sugary sweet from lies. This is not something new. How many people "The Great Hero" of the New War has deceived around the years of the Narmer regime?

"Nothing. Why you-"

She smacks your arm.

"Shut up. Don't want to hear your explanations. His brooding takes its toll on you," she painstakingly cleans her fingers from void-touched blood. From all of them, Eleanor is one who can feel lies, but Leticia is... another deal. She doesn't have the need to hear your thoughts. Magic of doctors, you guess.

It's strange that she cares about you. After all, these six are a team. And the seventh angle doesn't belong in the hexagon, even if it forces itself inside.

But, for Lettie, you let it slide. Hold her palm in yours and blink a little bit slower.

"I take care of that. Promise"

———

You know it — even too much of something good can be poisonous. Like trivia: this body was not ready for the delicious food that they have here, so on one night with beer and Hex you threw up in the bathroom on the second floor. But... Compare this and... your genuine worry for Nightingale seems like a wrong play of komi, where no one could win.

Worse: you remember Umbra. His blind eye and this wordless trust between him and The Operator. This wordless care that travels with them everywhere. How could you not feel envy when this child not only found the way from Zariman 10-0, but even saved the frame that could think without Tenno? Well, now you have protoframes. They joke with you in their bones, and they help you when it becomes unbearable — this world, this time, this loop. So why, when you stretch out your hand only how you can, it turns out... It is too much. Or too little.

And... what even happens in this thick skull of his, when he abruptly leaves a conversation on KIM, then agrees on Amir's play and, after... drowns you in questions?

Broadsword

So what is it? Pity? Or are you stupid as well as crazy?

Broadsword

Stop dodging! Why. Are. You. Still. Here?!

There is a reminiscence of a dull ache from Duviri. Another swing of an axe above the head. Endless swirl of colors. And buzzing in the skull. This body trembles, unable to comprehend all emotions from a feverish mind, and you pull your hand to clean your face from... something. Anything.

How could he even ask this shit? Like you some bystander that already left them after a week of knowing, just to start a new adventure far far away. Like you didn't search abandoned markets for his favorite beer, didn't bring special ammunition to Quincy, didn't practice with Aoi and Amir on the transmission of intel. Just some guest, not important to add in their ranks.

Nidus quietly shrieks when you transfer back to him. It is something of a habit. You can't even feel the exact moment when his broad frame already exits the backroom, too busy with boiling emotions inside your mind (the biggest question there: what if Kid would be able to help them without this mess of emotions. What if Hex liked the Operator more?).

Höllvania Central Mall never sleeps. Especially now, when there are not seven, but many more breathing shadows waiting for the other day to live, so... It is a little bit of awakening — see disbelief and caution in the eyes of bystanders when the form of Nidus makes his way from the second floor to the first in one jump. But still not enough to stop the heavy steps of the infested frame.

He's in his usual spot, crouched between some ammo for his rifle and computer, and Arthur... seems a little bit surprised. Like it wasn't you who he wrote just seconds ago.

Pity. He called your carefully crafted relationships with the Hex "pity." And you, yourself: crazy and stupid.

"You could just-" There is something more behind his dazed expression, some dark undertone, but it is not about him. Not anymore.

"How could you," Nidus freezes like a mannequin in the doorframe. This body constructs itself right against Nightingale; scarred fingers cling to his shoulder to feel something else beside the usual eerie words of KIM-messages and hushed phrases under the sick sky. His brows rise up even more now, "How could you even think of something like that!"

Arthur's lips twitch.

Prince of fire Lodun, in all his ugly glory, paints your mind with blood and red.

"It's bothering me already enough time to just let it slide," his words twist something in the pit of your stomach, and Lodun's voice screeches somewhere around the frontal lobe. He shouldn't say such words to you. It is blasphemy. Lie. His hand rips your own from himself almost like you hurt him, and the scar around the palm that he left you with starts to pulsate, "You walk around the Mall like everything is okay and we're not just some dead meat to your future."

He is poisonous. Some sort of divine punishment for you, as if you didn't suffer enough for years and years of survival. There are no more light jokes, no more strange, vigorous words with the undertone of something bigger. Only a stern glance on this body.

Prince Lodun fist his finger and crack another hole in your mind walls.

Body of the Drifter winces.

"Are you fucking kidding?" teeth clacks. The jaw's strained to its limit. All of this time together, just drained in the sink, "What do you think? That I stayed here just to forget about you all in the next minute?"

He doesn't need to say it aloud. The answer is written on his face already, and it's making Lodun more loud in your mind.

"How many times have you already done that?"

Lodun roars. This head is pounding.

"What?!"

It's unbelievable. He looks at you with such a sardonic expression, as if he knows that you did something so bad that you even can't stand with him in one room, and... you want to go right in his head to fucking show Arthur how terribly wrong he is.

The worst of all: he keeps going.

"It's convenient, isn't it? To play "friends" with people you can just leave behind," his grip tightens, and Arthur steps forward. A little more and it would become a fight.

You hold back. Just a little bit, but the patience in this body already wears itself.

"So that's what's stuck in your head?" You snarl, "Not bad enough, don't you think?" One step to him, and you feel — one more, and you can crash in his metallic chest. Eyes squint, "Make me a villain more, why not? Maybe I should take control of one of you and dispose of everyone else, huh?" Luscinia weeps in the corner of your mind with these harsh words, but you are unable to hear her — spiral of Loduns anger in its all-power captured you. There is something of a hurt in Arthur's face. But you only use his own method on him. It's almost like he didn't think of this — that you could use his friends against him or even make him a bystander in the nonexistent massacre.

"You can," his voice drops lower. Grip tightens even more — soon bones in this body would be broken by his fingers. "So I advise you to stop pretending like we're important to you," Nightingale bends his head, and you can see the hues of his blind eye for the first time, "and put us all out of this misery."

You're tugging this hand away — alas, it's not working, and a wave of dull pain passes through the body. He never thought that it was as hard for you as for them.

Luscinia crying. The Sorrowful Soprano of Duviri weeping like a mother who lost something too precious for her, and with Loduns anger, it's too much to feel in one moment. Your mind makes itself the battleground of the old Tales.

You want to say: maybe you're right.

You want to say: maybe I should just leave things like they are.

But... the Hex already made themselves important for you. So much that you gladly would stay here forever, with this ancient technology and people of the past. The Operator has their people. Why shouldn't you have yours?

You take a deep breath. Close tired eyes.

"If you think that I should go, I'll do it." There is something too heavy in these words, so you can't raise this head anymore, with your gaze a little bit blurry. Not from tears, "You all became too important for me, so if it would be better for Hex, I'll be gone to my time."

You know: without you, they will all be dead in the New Year of 1999. The reactor will blow up, and Arthur will bleed on the floor of the radiated room, near the bodies of Aoi and Amir.

And you can just feel the power of Spiral, to send it all back in January, to start again.

"Don't make yourself a martyr. You can leave when you want."

That's it.

You snap.

"My fucking Sol," you twitch this head, "you are as dense as Razorback," Nightingale becomes a little bit puzzled by the unknown comparison, but you continue, "What should I say? "Sorry, Arthur, I stayed here because I know that without me you all will die." Your voice becomes louder and louder; it breaks in some words, and you feel: the dam was broken, "And I developed feelings for you, and all of this embarrassing flirting was so bad because I had never done it before? You know, because I was trapped all of my youth in an endless loop of my own death, and I didn't even think that I could feel something like that"," his grip finally becomes loose, and you break the palm from him, only to point the finger at Arthur, "Everyone knows about it. I thought that you-"

Wait. You thought that he already knew about your feelings for him — it was so obvious that Eleanor even asked you not to think about her brother on united missions. But... You shut this mouth and looked at Arthur. He's... flagger-basted. No more anger in his eyes, only genuine surprise, and — worst of all — he continues to keep silent.

"Great," you roll this eyes. Fuck it. Maybe he knew, just feelings weren't mutual, and Nightingale didn't acknowledge it, to leave things as they were. But now you spelled it all aloud, and there is only one way to turn it back. Maybe... no. You don't want it.

Sol, you should just go to the backroom and decay in some corner.

You take a deep breath.

"I'll be going to throw up somewhere on the second floor from embarrassment," you transfer back to Nidus, "don't message me," and head towards the escalator.

Worst: he didn't even stop you.

———

Quincy screams in your comm and it's almost unbearable how he just throws a stash of Scaldra supply on the garage floor, just to head back to civilians in the old supermarket without another word to you.

Blew up the tank without care of flying too far away to not be hurt; melted one of the other stashes; almost got Kalymos dead. You've gone more hectic. But it's still better than lying on a couch with nausea and a sorrowful expression (it's still better than nothing — you remind yourself — you still feel something, and it's better than apathy).

Funny: if the Kid could see you, they would be furious. Throwing some tantrum about how such a mindless thing would wreck you, The Drifter, to some pathetic ordinary human. They were always like this: more hard than you, more prideful. They could chew Arthur's words and twist them so much that the man would not be sure what he even wants anymore. But the Operator is too far away. And you are too arrogant to travel back to them. Lotus would calm you down, embrace you in a motherly hold; however... you don't want it right now. One thing that surely helps: killing. Scaldra or Techrot — doesn't matter.

"I'm worried about you," tells Aoi when the sharp talons of Garuda give her a package full of CDs, "I heard your argument with Arthur." She seems a little bit sheepish, but... you know, that you actually can trust her. Of all Hex, Aoi is the most understandable. You can tell her all your worries, and she wouldn't laugh or write off your feelings. "It's hard with him sometimes, but Arthur cares about us all," of course he is, "you included."

You hum. The sound comes a little bit muffled.

"I'm sure." No, you're not, but there is no need to talk about it right now. Aoi squints her eyes in disbelief. "Sorry, Aoi. It's between me and him and i-"

"Drifter," his voice is too loud in Aoi's lair, but you don't turn to Nightingale. Maybe he will disappear if you don't acknowledge his presence. "We need to talk," Morohoshi shows some kind of gesture that you don't recognize, with her big finger pointed out, and she shakes her head, smiling.

If there were only two of you, you'd find a reason to just vanish in the air.

Damn. Why is it harder than killing an archon with a bow?

"Alright," you sign. Garuda turns around to Excalibur and he is already heading somewhere in an unknown destination.

What does he want to say? That he made a decision to stay with you on friendly terms so that you could save Hex's lives? That he'll save them by himself? Good luck with that. You'll still be here, even if he wants to banish you from others, just not in his line of sight. And when clocks turn 23:56 without catastrophe, you'll let them go and transfer yourself back to Loid, to solve problems of Deimos.

It's some sort of warehouse — you've never been here before, and it's strange how music from the hall becomes only disoriented muffles when Arthur closes the door. You stand a little bit farther from him than usual — not to make yourself comfortable here.

Arthur leans on some kind of cabinet.

Heavy silence falls on you two.

And when you think that this was a bad idea — to come here with him — Arthur starts talking.

"You know that all my life I was a military man," he spins that damn sword — Arthur's voice... not so loud. He speaks almost carefully, like his words already were chosen before this talk, and... you don't know what to think about. Emotion without name, without personification in Tales of Duviri, born in a pit of stomach, "and... I think I was ready to leave some things behind," he's not looking at you; his gaze stops on scratches on the floor, "because there was not enough time, or... I didn't try to understand others more."

You gulp. Garuda's scales tremble.

"And I tend to search for enemies where there aren't any." Finally, Arthur looks at you. There is more than tiredness from endless nights; quiet longing, a hint of uncertainty, something... tender.

He sighs.

"And," Arthur chuckles, and you grit your own teeth, thrashing about to step from Garuda or stay in her bones, "I'm not even entirely human. I mean, look at me," he gestures at the metal skin of his body, "not a usual choice of the mass."

Still, it's better to talk face to face. Especially on topics like that, you make a decision in one moment, to reappear beside him in another.

"Arthur," your own voice strained with hoarse hesitation, "you're a good person. You shouldn't talk about yourself like that." There is a hint of a smile in the corner of his lips, and Arthur blinks a little bit slower.

"You're always saying such things that give me hope." Spinning of his blade comes to an end, and the warehouse becomes more... steady. Peaceful.

Nightingale clears his throat.

"Did you mean it?" comes almost in a whisper, "that you have... feelings. For me."

You tear your gaze from him and put it down, not able to look in his eyes. Yes. It is definitely harder than killing an archon.

Fingers dip in the elbows.

"Yes."

Nothing more. Just a short, clear answer to put any misunderstanding behind.

Remarkably, the stomach stops swirling. All of this body became... calm, like all the worries just disappeared with this one word. Even if Arthur doesn't feel the same, you are glad that you two talked about it. Finally, you can open a new page in-

"It's mutual."

What?

You snap this head to him, and, for the first time in an eternity, you see Arthur smiling. Without some undertone in it, without pressure. Just a clear, happy smile on his scarred face, and you even see some little dimples on his cheeks.

And, maybe it's too early and you should wait some time to do such things, but these hands — your hands — reach out to him, to bury your fingers in his hair and press an uncertain but full-of-burning-emotions kiss to his lips.

It's raw — skin to skin, first too gentle to feel something more than the texture of others, but with every passing moment, all of this bottling adoration for him seeps through the motion. And Arthur answers you, laying his metallic palm in the crook of your neck, to deepen the kiss — he opens his mouth, presses you to himself more, to finally give you something that you wanted too long to confess.

In reality, it's still better than in imagination.

When there is not enough air in your lungs, when your shuddered inhale mixes with his own and both of you break away for a moment, you press your forehead to Arthur's, holding onto his shoulder.

"You know," he starts after a moment of silence, with a voice a little bit rough on the edges. You open your eyes and move your head a little bit to look at him once more. Cold fingers start to play with the strands of your hair. "If someone had told me that I would want to kiss someone from the future who trespassed my mind, I think I would kill them," Arthur breathlessly laughing and-

"Sol, you're unbelievable." You smack his shoulder and move to get out from his grip, but Nightingale presses you even more into himself, and you feel how his laughter starts to seep through your bones.

"You're stuck with me now. No refunds, sweets." Arthur pressed a chaste kiss on the crown of your head, and... you hug him, closing your eyes back.

The Harbinger of Joy, Mathilda, smiles for the first time in what feels like eternity.

#Warframe #warframe 1999 #arthur nightingale #Arthur Nightingale x drifter #Arthur Nightingale x reader #gn!reader #gn!drifter #hurt/comfort #angst with a happy ending #thats what you got for dry ahh texts arthur 🫵🏻🫵🏻🫵🏻#oneshot #drifter: anger who? i know only mu buddy lodun who screams in my head 24/7 #arthur unintentionally helps drifter to claim their body after too many transferences

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icebrooding · 1 year ago

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I adore Cerus, he's a fun villain and was such a powerful threat to even Isgarren. But I think there is an underlying layer of tragedy that comes with his character.

Cerus admired Febe ("Oh, he was the best of us.") long, long after the man's death, and in spite of the fact that anyone aligned with Eparch and his beliefs would view Febe as a traitor. He believed in their autonomy; was an idol to it. Why would Cerus idolise someone so divorced from what his beliefs should be?

Eparch raised Cerus and Deimos both, instilling this violent and cruel nature that is not an inherent trait of kryptis. And Eparch favoured Deimos enough that Cerus developed feelings of inferiority; desperation to match up to Deimos in Eparch's eyes. He is the one stuck between his prized brother and his spoiled sister. While Peitha describes him as having no reservation, it's entirely possible that he was trying to assert himself, being the seemingly overlooked one of his siblings.

Maybe Febe was kind to him. Febe, who was gentle and careful and believed in autonomy. Freedom. He went against what Eparch wanted from the kryptis, and maybe, just maybe, that spoke to a young Cerus who was resentful that Eparch would look any which way but at him.

Cerus would look up to Febe and find he didn't have to compete with Deimos or Peitha to be noticed for once.

And why do I think this is what Febe's relationship was to Cerus? Because of the way Febe died.

Cerus was there with Eparch when Deimos killed Febe in the temple that would be named after him. But why? We know Eparch has a sadistic streak for watching people suffer, but why take Cerus there too?

Unless Eparch was afraid that Cerus had started to drift from his control and towards Febe, and he had to stamp out that possibility in a way he knew would stick. By having Cerus watch his idol be slain in front of him while he could do nothing to intervene, all at the hands of the brother he could, would, never be able to live up to.

"That's what happens when you fight back."

Maybe that's why he did the same to Isgarren all those years later; letting him go for the briefest moments to have to witness Mabon's death with full clarity, but with no way to prevent it. Breaking Isgarren the same way Eparch broke him.

And after that, there is nowhere to go. He pushed those thoughts away of what Febe inspired in him, and Eparch helped. Succumbing to Eparch's grip on him because there is no other choice now. And as hundreds of years pass, he grows to like it. He thrives in the brutality and does what he is ordered to.

But he never forgets his admiration, despite it all. And he still never matches up to Deimos, no matter how hard he tries.

It is even faintly implied that his own mate, Heitor, yearned for Deimos before him. Deimos was once the 'young glaive of House Nephus', implying that 'glaive' may have been a title that Cerus only gained upon his brother's disappearance or death. And through Kanaxai's own words, long before either of them left for Tyria: 'Earlier, the Glaive's hands clasp my shoulders. Prideful. Assuring. Heitor's envy, sumptuous.'

Even up until his dying breath, Cerus never compares to his brother.

And he could have. He could have had it all, presenting Isgarren to Eparch and finally receiving the validation that he was as good as his brother. If not for Peitha.

He would have achieved his dream, if only she hadn't stepped in.

But instead he lost his life, body broken with the aid of his sister like his mind had been broken with the aid of his brother all that time ago in the very same temple devoted to the man he'd idolised.

(This is not a Peitha hate post, I love she)

#text #gw2 #guild wars 2 #cerus #i can find depth in anything just you watch me #my analysis #soto spoilers

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taylorannnx · 1 year ago

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I need to gush about my upcoming game

[Alt text: A graphic with floral corner borders in the bottom left and top right corners with Chefs de Partie written in the center. Above the title reads hashtag Chefs de Partie. Below the title reads served on January 24th 2024 only at DriveThruRPG.]

Chefs de Partie is a co-op minigame for your ongoing RPG campaign that runs on Iron Core. Gather your party and cook a meal together, narrating your successes and failures with either heavenly or disastrous results.

This one page game includes the core rules (written by me) and six recipes that demonstrate how the game interacts with four different systems: D&D 5e, Blades in the Daek, Fate Core, snd Lasers & Feelings. The recipes are written by some of TTRPGs rising stars (literally my dream team!!!):

Austin Taylor, of Secret Mysteries of Nerd Histories fame whose game design you'll have seen in Deimos Academy and Til the Last Gasp

Basil Wright, a Storytelling Collective 2023 Creative Laurette and game designer of Pelegos

Danny Quach, author of Digital THICCNESS, AP superstar, and Roll20 angel

DT 'Honey' Saint, whose food based TTRPG contributions I've admired since she DMed Spice of Life at Roll20 Con three years ago, and whose charity work "Honeybunches of Hope" is incredible

Erin Roberts, a game design role model of mine whose name you may know from Journeys Through the Radiant Citadel

Poorna M, one have of Weave Games, who recently made one of my all time favourite games, a Christmas rom com duet called Love is on the Cards with her design partner Armaan Babu

As if that wasn't enough, we've got the one and only Nala J Wu on graphic design (they have perfectly brought to life my vision of a restaurant menu for the layout) and Marielle Ko from Tales of Sina Una as our editor!

Biggest one page RPG? Maybe (it's A2 dimensions)

Most designers on a one page RPG? Possibly

But cooking is best done with friends and I've implemented that philosophy throughout the creation process. I'm so freaking hyped to bring the world this game (the recipes range from brioche cinnamon rolls to podi masala dosa) because the dish descriptions are something incredible!

My hope is that we reach 51 sales* in the first month. With royalty split and $3.95 per sale, my writers should make $0.10 a word if we reach our target goal. I've priced this so everyone gets paid fairly.

*at full price. There will be options in the game description to buy the game for 50% or 100% off because games shouldn't be gatekept by disposable income.

This game is a little silly downtime activity and I love every contribution with my whole heart. I'm so excited for it to release next month and I hope you consider buying it if you can!

#ttrpg industry #ttrpg design #indie ttrpg #ttrpgs #ttrpg community #project management #dream team #cooking game #im so freaking excited

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mysticstarlightduck · 1 year ago

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WIP Questionnaire Tag

Thanks for the tag @diabolical-blue (here)!

I'll go with Supernova Initiative for this one!

1. What’s the first part of your WIP that you created?

I had wanted to write a science fiction/space opera story for years now! I've always been a huge fan of Star Wars and similar series, and I've always wanted to write something similar! I guess that the actual first part of this WIP I've ever created was the setting - it has remained the same/similar from the first iteration of an idea of this story, while the main characters, title, and plot underwent many, many changes until it all got to the version I'm currently writing!

2. If your story was a TV show, what would the theme song/intro be?

Curiously enough, the Supernova Initiative book series is going to be more akin to a "TV Show" format - like Clone Wars, The Last of Us, or Game of Thrones - than a traditional novel format. That's a bit complicated to explain further, but the gist of it is - the chapters are going to be the "episodes", which in turn will be divided into acts/seasons that take place in specific time frames, with the first (5 episode/chapter) taking place 10 years before the main story!

If I had to choose, I would say that the theme song would be a rather energetic rock/pop song! With a similar vibe to these:

(Check out the full WIP playlist)

I'm Dangerous - The Everlove

Shame! Shame! Shame! - Reinaeiry

Let's Do This - Outskrts

El Dorado - Stellar

Anti-Gravity - Runaground

I think that the song would need to have this rebellious/badass energy, mixed with a generally fun beat and good lyrics that touch on the overall theme/plot of the series! Plus a generally youthful vibe!

3. What are your favorite characters that you made? Why?

I really love most of the main cast from this WIP!!!! But my Top 3 definitely are Jack Tithus, Gabi Ophyria, and Deimos Soll!

Jack is a really sweet, kind, and slightly reckless guy, who is at the same time outgoing, extroverted, and funny when he wants to be. He is defiant towards authority and fiercely protective of those he loves, to a dangerously selfless degree, all of which are tropes/traits I really enjoy in characters.

(Plus, in a way, Jack is one of the characters that kind of holds a condensation of some of my own personality traits, in good and bad ways - which was something accidental at first, but which I then embraced. )

Gabi Ophyria was one of the characters that came to me a bit later during the plotting of this book, which was surprisingly clear to me from the get-go. She's a brash, loud, fierce girl who lets no one talk her down and who believes in fighting for what she believes in. She also has anger issues - which is something she struggles with and eventually overcomes as her arc progresses, especially as she learns to let herself be vulnerable and trust others rather than try to be unbreakable all the time.

Deimos Soll is one of the most badass characters in this WIP and I just adore him. In a superficial, bad summarization, lol he's basically a young adult, alien version of John Wick and honestly is one of my all-time favorite characters I've ever written. He starts out in the backstory chapters as an awkward, fearful teenager lost in a moon he knew nothing about, but eventually grows into the deadliest and most efficient sniper this galaxy has ever seen, and one of the biggest threats to the Junction. I just adore writing introverted badass/morally grey characters who have a heart of gold. One of my favorite tropes!

4. What other pieces of media do you think your fanbase would share?

Definitely other space opera/sci-fi adventures like Star Wars, Star Trek, or Voltron! Those stories introduced me to the space opera science fiction genre which I love so dearly, so I think that pretty much anyone who likes that genre will probably like one of those movies lol. I also think that my future fanbase might also like Six of Crows or the Bad Guys (the DreamWorks movie), as the "found family of misfits working on a heist" trope is a pretty big trope in the first acts of this WIP as well!

5. What has been your biggest struggle with your WIP?

I think the hardest part about this WIP is that its structure is something I haven't seen before - as in, it's essentially a "TV Show but make it a Book Series" at its core. That means I have to improvise a lot with how I structure the story's chapters and how I structure all the events of the story. One good thing about this format I'm trying to recreate is that it is really visual, and I'm a really visual writer/person, so that means I get to make a really vivid world and characters!

6. Are there any animals in your story? Talk about them!

There are! A lot of them actually. Since this is a science fiction/spare opera adventure, a lot of the story involves the main characters traveling from planet to planet, especially during their heist mission and after the plot progresses.

They visit all kinds of planets and thus all kinds of biomes - the dusty mining moons like Cethea III, giant winter desert planets like Ivion, or flourishing forest dwarf planets like Stryxus. Cethea III - the homeworld of the MCs in the backstory chapters - is known for giant elk-like oxen that roams the dusty wasteland, as well as smaller lizard creatures and a few strange, venomous mammals. They also have giant birds, known as Harpies, which have a powerful screech capable of blowing out one's eardrums when too close.

Ivion is a gigantic winter desert, home to equally gigantic winter creatures, ranging from two-headed mountain lynx to absolutely enormous dragon-like creatures that burrow underneath the blanket of ice. It is also known for famously adorable, three-eyed, surprisingly big rodents similar to lemmings, which live in packs.

Stryxus has a biome akin to that of a tropical rainforest, which means the wildlife within it is incredibly varied despite the planet's small size, and that it has a vast variety of insects, mammals, lizards, and all kinds of animals you would expect from that environment. And even some you wouldn't expect.

The oceanic depths of Thallassen, in the heart of the Khosmonian galaxies, host especially gargantuan creatures, from pacific whale-like creatures with four, giant glowing eyes, to monstrous predatory lamprey-like creatures that lurk in the water.

7. How do your characters travel/get around?

The main form of transportation between planets, settlements and galaxies are starships/spaceships of varying shapes, sizes and fuel capabilities. Each planet has its own varied form of in-land transportation, but ranging from different animal mounts, hoverbikes, bullet trains, specialized boats/ships, submarines, and/or especially flying cars in the big cities.

8. What part of your WIP are you working on right now?

I'm currently writing the first draft of this WIP, and am around the third or fourth chapter of the Prologue Act (which consists of five chapters, or episodes). I already have an alpha reader (@sarandipitywrites) who is helping me a lot with ironing out the details of this story! I'm really happy about the progress I'm finally being able to make!

9. What aspects (tropes, maybe?) You think will draw your audience in?

General tropes: Found Family, Heists, Space Exploration, Whump (especially Lab Whump), rebelling against the system, Dystopian Utopia, Secret bioengineering scheme (as the main threat from the villains), loveable cyborgs/robots, etc!

For romance: Friends to Lovers, Rivals/Enemies to Lovers, Grumpy/Sunshine, etc

Familial/Friendship Tropes: Wholesome father-daughter duo (who are a former assassin and his feisty adoptive daughter), Protective Older Brother & Willful Younger Sister, Adoptive Siblings, general group of misfits fighting against an oppressive government, etc.

For more tropes & details, check out the WIP Intro!

10. What are your hopes for your WIP?

I hope I'll be able to finally finish the first draft of this story this year and that I'll publish it (probably self-publishing or something similar!) in the near future! I generally also hope to have a lot of fun writing it, and that other people will have fun reading this too (especially my friends)!

Tagging (gently) @your-absent-father @ray-writes-n-shit @drchenquill, @saltysupercomputer @agirlandherquill

@sleepy-night-child, @kaylinalexanderbooks, @smol-feralgremlin, @oh-no-another-idea, @littleladymab,

@winterandwords, @cowboybrunch, @eccaiia, @sarahlizziewrites, @illarian-rambling

@agirlandherquill, @anoelleart @sm-writes-chaos

@leave-her-a-tome, @writernopal, @anyablackwood, @unstablewifiaccess, @forthesanityofstorytellers

@i-can-even-burn-salad, @cakeinthevoid

@lassiesandiego, @thepeculiarbird, @clairelsonao3, @memento-morri-writes, @starlit-hopes-and-dreams

@the-golden-comet, @elshells

And OPEN TAG

#wip supernova initiative #wip questionnaire #wip questionnaire tag #writers on tumblr #writerblr #writers #my wips #character writing #writeblr #writing #my characters #my writing

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thecertifiedboykisser · 5 months ago

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Mydei.. this beautiful, beautiful man.. what is his deal.

(As before, I have seen no story leaks for this man. Only the vague chrysios heirs are imperfect and that's he immortal but idk if that's confirmed)

This is a longer one, bear with me pls

Unlike the other chrysios heirs that have released, his name doesn't have a direct translation/is related to someone or something in Greek mythos. Tribios and aglaea both have a translation, (from what i could find) Tribios roughly means a a well wore path (fitting with her messenger status and relation to Hermes) and aglaea is a straight up goddesses name.

But for the life of me, I could not find a translation for his name. At least not the full name. Even Mydeimos has nothing, but dei and deimos have some translations.

Starting off with the easer one, 'Dei' means god or deity in Latin, that's easy, but Deimos has a god attached to it! Deimos is one of the sons of ares and aphrodite, along with his brotho phobos, they represent the fear before going into battle. There are also the names of the moons that surround Mars.

(More information below)

Now, his lion aspects also come into play with his relationship to Deimos, as deimos and phobos were portraited with lion aspects/features.

As shown in the image above, in the first trailer introducing the Chrysos heirs, Mydeimos is shown with a line in this like red smoke around him, shown below,

It even says make him roar.

So, what does this all imply? Well, he holds the core flame of strife, and the literally definitely of strife is, "angry or bitter disagreement over fundamental issues; conflict." And the latter part if his name is representive of the fear right before battle, and the fear of loss.

Now, the first part of his name, my, it genuinely has no translations, to Greek or Latin that match, it literally just My in English. It was probably just added to make it sound different from just the gods name, idk.

Now, I can't really make much else with this, as we don't know much about the coreflames and there's no in game text I can pull from and only so much of this is based in real mythos (and i refuse to play honkai impact)

Moving away from the translations and etymology of his name, to the fact that he's one. The last prince. And two. Called two different names,

"I am the crown prince of Kremnos, 'Mydeimos, and also the warrior of Okhema, 'Mydei." If you want to know me better, observe me in battle, or fight me yourself." The exact quote from his splash art. So, let's get into it.

He calls himself the longer name (Deimos) when referring to his royal lineage, which i will talk about here in a moment, and the shorter one (Dei) when talking about him being a warrior.

And with the etymology (that's right, I know big words B} ) it seems like he's calling himself the son of the titan of strife, Nikodor. Which is probably his family's patron titan, or just the titan of kremnos.

Now, when he is calling himself Mydei, it's more like he's referring to himself as the God. Deimos, son of the god of strife, or dei, the god himself. Also, it's sort of a glory thing as well, as he's being portrayed as a god or on the level as the gods as he is probably a really good warrior.

Now I'm also gonna take this chance to talk about kremnos and what that means! Kremnos means, precipice, hanging over a wall or bank, as shown below

Castrum means a roman fortress, so Castrum Kremnos literally means fortress[es] precipice, most likely relating to the fact that it seems that it is on the verge of crumbling with all the patricide that happens (killing ur dad, big no no in Greek times)

"Kremnos, swallowed by mist! City riven between chaos and war! The blood of patricide flows through its royal line, and its god bears the title of calamity."

Another quote from his splash art, what i find interesting here, is the title of calamity line, I'd assume that relates to the titan being one that guards calamitys gate. The mist most likely relates to the black tide that took the titans. City riven between chaos and blood, between. It sits on the precipice, the feelings of fear that come right before the battle. (IT ALL COMES BACK TOGETHER BBY!!)

The bottom, where it shows what city there from and what Titan is interesting here. Because with the titans name it says "Nikodor..?" Like it's unsure. Now I have no fucking clue what this means due to the lack of info. Nikodor has no exact translation, the closes i found was nikodem(?) That means victory to the people. Which could explain it. It's not sure of the victory, but i am gen clueless on this part.

And finally, my fav part, analyzing his splash art:)

So, this looks insane but I'll explain.

All the yellow is stuff we've seen before and the dude in the bg with pink aswell on phanton and ratio (that's right he's back)

The belt with the emblem, the fabric either under it or over it, but generally covering the outer thighs, and in ratio and mydeis case, going up to there back and clasping to there shoulder with some emblem, same as belt, most likely a family crest.

The stuff circled in pink are blue gems, a stark contrast to the warm tones all over his design. Blue is also often related to feelings of loss and fear. (Also, the god damn spirals on the arm cuff) Nikodor seems to be colored blue and white, so I also could be a nod to that, especially since blue seems to be a big color here.

The markings almost look like flames, and with the plate on his knee and his emblems looking like suns, I almost wondered if instead of him have corliations to ares he has ties with Apollo, especially since Apollo is the god of prophesy, and yknow, fear before the war, seeing into the future, that kinda stuff

What i mean with the symbols. The blue one is on his gold jewelry on his back, and the pink one is behind his name. Translation in alt text

He's holding a tattered red flag, in general it means, a warning or no mercy given, fitting for a place driven by war, and it being tattered also shows that it's probably been through alot.

He also looks like he's stepping in a puddle of blood, probably of his fallen comrades, the men are all around him, defending themselves and such, like he's leading them. The sun is behind him (you can tell from the light on the 'blood') like he's looking into the darkness, of war.

TLDR: mydei has alot of ties to fear, war, sitting in the precipice and general uncertainty. I'm defo pulling for him, and I'm so excited for 3.0 and beyond!!

#hsr #honkai star rail #hsr mydei #mydeimos #another hsr theory #mydei #pretty man

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semperintrepida · 7 months ago

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FTH Fic Progress: A Working Title

I've never been the kind of writer with a docs folder full of "Untitled", "Untitled (1)", "Untitled (2)". At the very least, I need a working title, something short and snappy that embodies the concept I'm writing towards.

My novel "The Breaking" had a working title of "Kyklos"—and to be honest, I actually prefer that one to the final title it ended up with.* In ancient Greek, kyklos means cycle or circle, appropriate for a book full of cycles: of violence and abuse, of vengeance, of agriculture and the seasons, of the structure of the narrative... By choosing a working title, I'm stamping it on my draft document as the first thing I see. It's the name of the file and the first line in the text. It grounds me and my intentions for the work.

For this FTH fic, the first word that came to mind was "familiar," as in "evil's familiar face." But it didn't thrill me, even though it adequately described the premise of this story: canon!Kassandra (the "hero") coming face-to-face with her evil AU counterpart, Deimos Kassandra.

So I pulled up my handy dandy Onelook.com, and a dictionary, and wiktionary and started peering down etymological rabbit holes related to the concepts of mirrors and opposites, because that's where my head was at at the time. And after a while I stumbled across "antithesis." That's a good Greek word!

But it still didn't feel right.

I gave it more thought, and eventually, I realized I was approaching this story all wrong: Kassandra and Deimos aren't opposites—they're two faces of the same being.

After that epiphany, the word "resemblance" immediately came to mind, which led to the phrase "states of resemblance." We have a winner!

"States of Resemblance." Is that going to be the final title? I have no idea. I've been known to kick working titles to the curb whenever something better comes along. But I like this one for now.

Next time, we'll talk about first sentences.

More to come!

* Unfortunately, the most common definition of "kyklos" in English has shifted to mean "the cycle of governments in a society" and that's the first thing that pops up in a google search for the word. Since that definition's not what I intended, I changed the final title because I didn't want readers to get confused.

#1400 words into this draft #and desperately trying to keep it from growing into a novella #wip: resemblance #behind the scenes

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cheese-ducks · 1 year ago

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Lord Phobos lore headcanons

His culture doesn't have last names, so his full title is Lord Phobos of Mars (yes, that Mars)

His father's name is Ariars(mix of Ares and Mars), his mother's name is Venera (Venus in Russian), and his twin brother's name is Deimos

He hated royal training and often skipped classes to teach himself guitar

Despite no one thinking he was qualified, he was next in line for the throne (It drove Deimos crazy)

He used sign language and a text to speech voice to communicate during the vow of silence. The text to speech voice was later implanted in his vocal cords (it's the Phobos voice we know today)

He has a close bond with Meouch mostly because he was the first person he ever met that actually liked music. He felt seen and like there was nothing wrong with him. He nearly fainted when Meouch complimented his guitar solos.

He asked Sung to give him human colored hands and to put his text to speech voice in his vocal cords, which took more cybernetics than Sung thought.

The cybernetics messed up his memories which led him to believe he was a fully robotic replica of 'Phobos 1'

This led to the drastic change in personality we see between Phobos 1 and Phobos 2 (the sleeping, the lack of inhibition, the sarcasm, the dumbassness)

With the help of his band mates he eventually regained his memories but continued to go by Phobos 2 and Phibbis because he thought the whole ordeal was funny in retrospect

#twrp #twrp band #lord phobos #phobos lore #twrp headcanons

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zahri-melitor · 1 year ago

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Newish Comics:

Batman and Robin #4: I see we are having yet another flashback to Damian's Terrible Childhood (TM). Also narrowing my eyes at Kirk here. Apparently we are back in our Man-Bat being morally ambiguous era (when will my son, Aaron Langstrom, return from the pit on non-existence??)

Look I don't care what reason Williamson comes up with to convince Damian to go to school I'm just happy to see him attending school! He needs it!

Outsiders #2: I still so very much wish they'd used a different title for this comic. Anyway, underwater submersible adventures! Someone had fun reading all the ways the Titan could have been built better, I think.

Speed Force #2: this remains cute and devoted to fun and continuity (aside from the tragic continued squishing of generations together).

Wesley Dodds: The Sandman #3: I think having this as my introductory Riley Rossmo comic is going really well, as I do actually love the dynamism of the art in how this story is told. Also Tom Napolitano as letterer is doing a BUNCH of work even if there's no hand lettering. It's appreciated! Oh the story? I'm enjoying it. I'm reasonably light on JSA knowledge so I'm just enjoying the ride here.

Action Comics #1060: Etrigan! *kicky feet* Also I really do enjoy Otho-Ra. The B and C plots here are both event stories, if I read this right? Events I'm not reading yet.

World’s Finest Teen Titans #6: I love everyone at this bar. I love Roy and Ollie having a moment. I love Wally threatening to start using trick arrows (to Roy’s outrage). I love Garth breaking my heart and Donna comforting him. I love Karen and Mal being adorable together.

And I love Dick’s speech.

You killed once, you’ll do it again. ... But this ‘end always justifies the means’ crap is your Achilles heel.

Love your work, Dick Grayson.

The Warlord #30: This week in Skartaris the Theran Army is invading Shamballah! But Travis is delayed in telling anyone as he has to fight a leopard in a tree! Then his horse has run off and he swims through a bog, where he gets eaten by a marine dinosaur (he escapes via the power of being The Warlord and stabbing his sword through the dino while in its stomach).

Anyway Travis starts swinging between trees in his race to warn Shamballah, when the tree he's in falls down because a forester cut it down. He convinces the forester to help him spread the warning (though the forester is worried about his family nearby)

They warn the villages, get back together, the Therans are coming, Travis blocks a narrow bridge, and the forester runs back to warn his family...including his very familiar son!

HELLO JOSHUA! I SUSPECT YOU ARE THE REAL JOSHUA AND NOT THE CLONE EVEN THOUGH THE STORY TRIED TO TELL ME YOU WERE THE CLONE. (Having read wikis I also know this is true, but it was also...obvious. From the writing)

Look! Joshua even has his watch armband so there is no way you can confuse him for any other red headed child called Joshua. (Also...great job there Deimos and Deimos' minions, hiding Joshua...right under Tara's nose literally in the surrounding forest of Shamballah. Truly a difficult place to find him).

Oh so we are FULL retconning the 'that's the clone' theory now are we? I mean it was bullshit from the start but you know.

Anyway the forester then tries to save Travis in his final stand by sending a logjam of logs down the stream to knock out Travis' opponents! And there we leave it.

Honestly I don't know why I bother to read any comic that is not The Warlord, it's the greatest. Even though Mike Grell didn't draw any bondage this week.

#z canon read throughs #newish comics

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darkdevasofdestruction · 3 years ago

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Chapter 2: Call Out My Name

It was not a day as any other up on the Mount Olympus, for a unrest took over the Gods, especially their leader, Zeus, who seemed to most affected by the news given by the dreadful Sisters of Fate. Their audacity truly knows no bounds and can move even the most powerful God. He was given a prophecy unlike any other - That there will be a child unlike any other before, a child born with him as a father - A child strong enough that would be able to overthrow his rule, and destroy him, and all the Pantheon living in Olympus.

Thus, something dreadful must be done. The Gods must kill a child.

As always, the selfishness of these omnipotent being did not surprise the Goddess of Nature in the least, thus, she preferred to completely dismiss these rumours and remain in her forest, taking care of the fauna and flora. She was content, having Hermes by her side, and it was a sort of peace that she had never achieved since the moment she was brought into this life. Whether it be temporary bliss or not, she was fine with it.

Until... She heard the title given to the child of the prophecy - It was not enough to know that he was a child of Zeus, for he had many, but there was more.

The Child was the Marked Warrior.

The very Marked Warrior that was destined to be her lover, some day, though his fate was severely altered by those wretches who enjoy toying with people. But there was nothing she could do, for Zeus sent Athena and Ares themselves to wreak havoc down, in Sparta, and terminate the Child's life... And what could a Healing Goddess achieve by attempting to fight against the two most renowned Gods of War? She would only become a broken shell of herself. Still, she could not abandon the poor Child, whose fate became destroyed, because of her own impatience. The Sisters were right, should she not have been so entitled and pitiful, this person would have lived a good life... And now...

Looking down at the mortal world, she could see Sparta already plunged in chaos and engulfed in flames, with Ares and Athena massacring so many innocent people, who needn't be killed, for their own vanity. Though she had always found Ares to be incredibly despicable and unlikeable, Athena was far worse. She was arrogant and selfish, and she never liked her. Worse, they were Zeus's favourite children, and it showed.

The human world now looked akin to the deepest parts of the pits of Tartarus, full of despair, everything in ruins, people either running away, shrieking in fear, or fighting, and dying at the merciless hands of those awful Gods that killed anything that they were afraid of. How very pathetic, Katrina thought, as she immediately descended towards the mortal realm and ran towards the bigger commotions, using her powers to try and put out the flames, creating blankets of grass and moss on the ground, hoping it will not be destroyed, to allow the injured to heal. Veins and plants would spurt from the greenland she'd create with each step she'd take, and they would try to hold up the shambling buildings and saving any poor soul that may have been in danger.

By the time she arrived at the fated scene, Ares and Athena had already captured the poor child, struggling and writhing to worm his way out of his grip, calling out for his brother. Kratos. The child let out a war cry and lunged at the God of War with a spear in his hand, but was ultimately swatted away with ease, like a flying pest.

"Enough, Ares! You came here to capture the child of the prophecy! That boy has nothing to do with you! Have you not wrecked enough havoc already?! Are you truly this incorrigible?!" Katrina yelled at him, running to stand protectively in front of the young boy that was now pitifully laying underneath the boards of the house he destroyed. She could hear his weak voice, calling out for his captured brother, Deimos. "Our sister is right. We have accomplished our task. Let us return, now. We still have a lot of work to do." Athena, for once, seemed to agree with her red haired sister, though she spared her no look, instead, choosing to only glare at her brother. "You see so little of what is true. Katrina, step aside, now!" though he took up his weapon in his other hand, the Goddess stood tall, her long, red hair flying around her menacingly, and her green eyes were shining like wildfire. It was not often when they would see the peaceful Goddess this angry, and for once, Ares smirked, pleased at the picture before him. He lived for this kind of rage. He could get drunk on the rage that was bubbling inside of her. "We will meet again soon, sister. And then, you will see, that my words were true." thus, the two turned around and galloped away, leaving the Goddess alone. With a sigh of relief, Katrina swiftly turned around and knelt to the ground, using vines to uplift the heavy wood fallen on the young boy, and once he was trapped no more, she reached out her arms towards him and dragged him out, holding him into a tight embrace. "Fear not, young one. I will protect you. I will not allow anything to harm you any more." her voice was so soft and soothing, that Kratos could feel his body and mind melting into her arms. "Rest now, and I shall heal your wounds. Once you wake up, should you need me again, just call out my name, and I will see to it, one way or another." it was a vow that Kratos knew, she would never break. "Train hard, and conquer everything in your path. You are destined to become the greatest warrior that Sparta ever had. You can succeed in anything you dream." though this was the prophecy for the Marked Warrior, perhaps, with him gone, his brother could take over his work. With his last bit of strength, the young boy pulled away from him, and looked into her eyes. Once he did, he found himself lost completely, and a weird sensation started surging through his veins, as if electrocuted. He couldn't understand what was going on, but he felt trapped in her emerald world, yet for some unknown reason, he had no wish of escaping. "What is your name?"

Her name was going to remain embroidered into his mind, for the rest of his life.

Katrina.

Kratos could feel his mind slipping away, and he fell unconscious in the woman's arms, as she hummed a sweet melody. His fatigueness disappeared, and he had the most restful sleep in his entire life. In honour of his brother, he got a tattoo that would resemble the birth mark he dorned on his face, and eventually, he would conquer every trial presented his way, without fail. Not once, did he call out that Goddess's name, as he wanted all of his achievements to be done by his own hand, yet with her prophecy in mind, he did strive to become the greatest and strongest there was, catching the eye of many of his peers and leaders.

Eventually, he would even fall in love with a beautiful woman that was like no other. A beautiful woman named Lysandra, that was able to calm the tides of rage that clouded his mind, and bring him the peace that he needed. She had become his safe and loving solace, and his life could only get better, once the woman became pregnant and gave birth to their sweet baby girl, Calliope.

Though Katrina could only watch with a burning ache, she only wished happiness and bliss for the happy family. Once the child was born, she even put a beautiful pink flower in her hair, and blessed her to have a successful, healthy and happy life. She even created a baby fox for the girl to play with, and to protect her, in need. Everything was going well... That is, until the dirty hands of the God of War started create misfortune for the Spartan General, and thus, created such an awful skin disease, that, given the Spartan Law, would make them forsake and kill their child, for being too weak.

For the first time, Kratos called out that name he heard when he was a mere child.

Katrina.

And she appeared before him, as he was cradling his child dearly in his arms. His face looked distraught, while his wife was trying to stay strong for both herself, and her husband. The Goddess took the child into her arms and used her powers to cure her... Yet nothing changed. Realization washed over her, and she could only sigh and look away.

"Kratos, have you ever heard of the Ambrosia fruit?" she asked, looking with pity at the small child in her arms. "Is it not said that Gods drink Ambrosia fruit every day, to remain immortal and powerful?" Lysandra asked, shock taking over her, at the mention of said fruit. "Yes, that is exactly right. This is not just a mere disease of the human realm, that I can cure with ease. This was made by a God, and can only be cured by the Gods' greatest cure there is." she explained, dreading to see the pained look on the parents' faces. "But why would the Gods want to curse our dear Calliope? What has she done wrong? Or are they trying to curse us, by harming her?" Kratos remained silent, while only his wife spoke. "They are not cursing you... They are challenging Kratos." the Goddess passed the child to her mother, who sat down on the bed, and the fox went to snuggle to her side. "Challenge... Me?" the man furrowed his brows in confusion. "Remember your childhood? Ares wanted to kill you, but I and Athena opposed. Long ago, Gods would cast plagues on great Heroes' families and villages, as motivation for them to start a quest and retrieve the Ambrosia fruit. Many Gods cursed many people dear to the Heroes just for their sick means of entertainment..." she shook her head, as a means to stop saying any more bad things. "Kratos, you must go and retrieve the Ambrosia fruit from Asclepius's Temple. It is the only way to save sweet Calliope. Here, take this. It is Apollo's Flame. It has the ability to guide you to the Temple... But bear in mind, it will not protect you from what you may encounter. Your own kin will turn against you. Barbarians, foreigners... Maybe even monsters. I do not know, yet the Gods have a sick, twisted sense of humour. You must make haste, Kratos. I can give you no guarantee as to how long she has." she explained, putting her arms on his shoulders and squeezing tightly. The Sisters of Fate truly were the most disgusting beings for allowing such foolishness to take place. "Will you stay here and protect my family?" the man asked, pained and worried for his two beloved girls. "Of course. Worry not, I will not let anyone pass the law before you return. What Ares and Athena did years ago... I am capable of doing the same, need be. Though, I hope my negotiation skills will work in my favour." she reassured, and in that instant, she was engulfed into a suffocating hug, akin to that which she offered him, during his childhood. "Thank you." he said, before releasing her. He knelt in front of his wife and kissed his child on the forehead, before he did the same to Lysandra. "I will return victorious. I will save Calliope no matter what." the display was bittersweet, and once more, Katrina internally swore to protect his family.

Through their waiting, the Goddess did various spells to keep the newborn child in good shape, as much as possible, and when the army came over to retrieve and kill the child, she retaliated, and promised to wreak havoc to Sparta , once again. The fear of Gods was greater than anything, for mortals. However, when the King himself came over, she negotiated that, should the Ambrosia juice work, he would have the last sip - Of course, what greedy king wouldn't agree to having Godly powers? Ha. Fool, Katrina thought. That sip would aid him for nothing.

Often, in her grief, Lysandra would ask the Goddess "What if he does not return? What if he gets killed during the war waged by the Gods?" she would repeat every day and every night, and the Goddess would reassure her. "Worry not, Lysandra, for Kratos would even crawl out from the pits of Tartarus, for you and sweet Calliope. Just have patience, and you will be happy again, together. All three of you." Katrina then conjured another pink flower and put it into the woman's hair, so she would match her dear daughter. After all, the Goddess was bound by an oath to the man, and could feel his life energy surging through her veins.

Thankfully, the painfully long waiting bare fruit, and Kratos returned, as promised, with the cure for his little girl. Once the little one drank the juice, the skin disease immediately vanished, and with that, so did the parents' worry. They celebrated eagerly, holding each other with so much love, while the Goddess could only watch with a smile, and a shattered heart. Though she could not be with her true beloved, at least he Marked Warrior's brother should be happy, despite the hardships.

For his success, Kratos was given the title of Spartan General and was allowed to lead the Army towards many more victories, one after another, without fail, and his legend would follow throughout the land. But that was not for long, as the new General had to fight an army of Barbarians, and he was defeated. Once he realised his life was going to be ended, just like that, he called out to the skies, striking a deal with Ares - A life of servitude, in return of destroying the Barbarian army.

Katrina could not believe her eyes once she took note of what was happening down in the mortal real - How could he be so stupid and pledge his life for such a fickle God? The Barbarian army was defeated, but what of his future? What of his family? Did he not realise how dangerous an implication that would prove?

The hoards of Barbarians were dead with a single swoop, and Kratos's life was now another's. Ares would have his arms be seared tight, with the chains tied to the Blades of Chaos. This meant the beginning of a new chapter in the General's life, as now, he had to abide to His every rule, and travel from land to land, spreading war and death... But he was not realising, he was swiftly succumbing to his rage and anger, and was losing his grip on reality. No matter what the Goddess tried, there was no taking him back. Ares's grip on him was too powerful, and only his demise would liberate the Spartan.

Not even Lysandra, or young Calliope were able to wake him up to reality, for he was too far gone. That is, until his last pillage, where he encountered an Oracle that warned him against massacring the remaining villagers from the Temple of Athena... Yet, of course, the blinded warrior heeded not her call, and went on ahead, shedding innocent blood without a single care in the world.

Until he looked down at his last two victims. Two victims, that were supposed to be back in Sparta, not there. WHY were they there? It made no sense. Was this a delusion? A fake? A nightmare? Or perhaps, he was dead, and forced to live his greatest fears?

He called out Katrina's name, begging her to save them - Perhaps they were still hanging on to a thread of life? But the forlorn expression painted on her face made it clear, there was no hope for the two. "A deal with Ares means you are his, and his alone. Anyone else is a burden, and takes away from you being his perfect warrior puppet." as he cradled his wife's lifeless body, Katrina held Calliope. "Perhaps... Being such an innocent and kind child, she will find her way towards Elysium... And be with all the other children that were taken from this world prematurely." she sighed, caressing her bloodied face. "Have have I done... Why... They were supposed to be back home..." Kratos's pitiful mourning meant nothing to the God of War. "Gods are selfish, Kratos. They never wish true happiness for mortals, unless it benefits them. You happiness was only a hindrance for him, so he took it away." she explained, though in that instance, the God's voice boomed through the ruined temple, revealing that it was him who planted his family in the village, believing that, should he kill them, his heart would harden and he would become the ultimate warrior.

She helped the man cremate their bodies, yet the Oracle was disgusted with his deed, and cursed him, to have his family's ashes bound to his skin, and would become known throughout the land, as the Ghost of Sparta, and every night from that point onwards, he would have nightmares of what he had done. Thus, the Great Spartan General was finally defeated. Driven mad, tortured and uncertain of his surroundings, the warrior found himself captured like a fly in the web of the Furies, as he tried to sever his contract with the God.

His pain, however, was far too great, and with that, his rage grew, and not even the Furies could hold him away from his vengeance. In a moment of hesitation, Kratos was able to escape their bounds, and killed them, thus severing away his ties with the God of War. Perhaps, now it was time to become a Champion of the Gods. Perhaps, it was time to have their favour sway his way, for once.

For five years, Kratos would serve the Gods, performing heroic deeds in their name, to gain favour, until the day that he watched the Sun fall down from the skies, and looking for answers, it was not the Goddess he was so familiar with, but her sister, the Goddess of Wisdom, that would give him the information, so that he could complete the task at hand - Rescue Helios. He had been kidnapped by the God of Dreams, Morpheus, who wanted to plunge Olympus into eternal slumber that would bind both men and Gods. Soon, all will succumb to the black grip of Morpheus.

Through many struggles and discoveries, he ended up going further into the Underworld, only to hear a melody that would haunt all of his dreams. It was a sweet melody that she created, all by herself, the day that Kratos carved the flute for her and the Goddess imbued it with her magic, so that whenever she sang, flowers would bloom and small critters would come along and surround her. Upon seeing her form for the first time in so many long and painful years, he noticed at her feet, the fox was still guarding her, even after death.

In a rush, Kratos jumped off his boat and started chasing after his little girl, calling out her name desperately, only to be met with the Goddess Persephone. Being able to sense his genuine grief, she proposed the idea of a gift, of sorts. If the Spartan is willing to sacrifice his power and weapon, then she will allow him to be reunited with Calliope, in Elysium. An offer, that the father took without a second to spare.

But no gift is ever without a greater price to pay.

As Kratos ends up in the lush gardens of Elysium, he falls to his knees in front of his sweet daughter and embraces her dearly. As soon as he saw her, he realised, that all that he worked for, all that he ever wanted, was finally, within his reach. Years of service to the Gods had not delivered him from his pain, never had it eased the burden of his past... But now, Calliope was found. He cared little that the world was going to suffer - What about all the suffering that HE endured, all this time? He deserved to have a little bit of solace, after going through such torture. He deserved to be selfish and take what he wants.

"Father! Why did you go?!" the girl scolded him, patting at his chest, as if to punish him for being away so long. "I am here now, child, and I will not leave you again." he reassured the young girl, who although smiling, was still pouty and would continue to reprimand him. He had to know how much she missed him, of course!

However, he will soon learn once again, that Katrina's warnings had been truthful, and all Gods are selfish and only go about their own desires, without a single care in the world for the mortal realm. "I have watched over you, pathetic mortals, for a thousand years, and it is always the same! Serving yourself before the needs of others has always been your flaw. But no matter, for now, you serve my purpose." how dare she have the audacity to utter such falsehoods, when the Gods, above all, are the most despicable ones? The more she approach them, Calliope would cling onto his leg, burying her face into his torso, afraid of the Goddess of the Underworld and her menacing words. "It is time for all that came before, to end." she said, as she explained the plan she elaborated so cunningly. Liberating the Titan, Atlas, so that he could kidnap Helios and in turn, destroy the pillar that holds the world, bringing perish to Olympus, plunging the world into Chaos once more... And dying, along with everything that exists. All because she wed a man she did not love, and was betrayed by the Gods. Calliope was softly whimpering from what she was hearing. "In your selfish choice to be with your daughter, you have caused her ruin." this realisation dawned on him hard. No matter how much she wished to be reunited with his family, he was doomed for a life of pain. "Elysium falls too, Kratos. She will perish." "No! I will NOT let the Gods take her from me again!" though he tried to leap on her and kill her, he was easily thrown away by a swat of her hand. Concerned, the little one ran to his side, attempting to help him get up from the ground.

The choice was clear to him, yet impossible to make. To stay with his daughter meant the end of the world... And the end of her. To stop Persephone and Atlas, would mean forsaking his daughter... Forever. While his hatred and anger for the Gods grew ever stronger, he knew there was but one thing to do. Unable to even look her way, and trying to tune out her pleadings and cries, Kratos desperately tried to pry his little girl as gently as he could, so that he could find a way to stop Persephone from achieving her goal. He realised that what he had gained in humanity, he lost in power, and he would need to become the monster he once was, if he was to defeat the Goddess of the Underworld. He would need to become the Ghost of Sparta once again. - Thus, he began slaughtering the innocent souls that roamed Elysium's gardens, gaining all that he had given. If he wanted to save his child, he would need to sacrifice his life with her, so that she may live.

At that moment, Kratos knew his destiny was not with Calliope. He could only look away from her sobbing, screaming form that lay on the grass, pitifully calling out for him to return to her. She was lonely, and afraid, and she needed her father back to hold her and protect her. The Fates were never that kind.

Gripping his weapons, he ran away out of Elysium, in pursue of Persephone and Atlas, and upon defeating the Goddess, he heard her say something that would stick with him, forever. "Your suffering will never end, Ghost of Sparta. But if you ever want to blame someone for your grief, blame that Goddess you are so blindly fond of. Perhaps she cursed you, instead of blessing you. Do you not know that one who preaches about others, is often, rotten to the core?" were her dying words.

Still, they meant nothing to him, at the moment, for he was mourning his daughter once more. Once he went down, to face Atlas, carrying the world on his shoulders, chained and doomed forever, he remained quiet - Yet, the Titan, did not. "Perhaps you believe the Olympians will help you. But I ask - Where are your Gods now, Kratos? Why do they not come to your aid?" he challenged him, not only taunting, but planting the seeds of doubt and revenge into his heart. "I do not need the aid of the Gods, Atlas!" the man yelled out at him. "But my path is clear to me. I will serve them, and they WILL keep their promise to free me from my past!" it seemed as though the mortal was trying to convince himself of these words. "I ask you, Spartan - What good is the promise of an Olympian?" this question made Kratos realise, he was powerless, before the Pantheon. "It is all I have, Atlas!" he called out, his voice breaking, almost close to outright crying. "We will meet again, Spartan. The Fates have deemed it. One day, you will regret what you have done here. The Sisters toy with mortals and Olympians alike, Spartan. That Olympian woman who treasures you so had faced their cruelty, she should know better and warn you." were the last words that Atlas addressed to the mortal, yet once again, they referenced the Goddess of Kindness that promised to protect him long ago.

He could not understand though, why were these two warning him about Katrina? What is it about the Fates, and curses? Surely, if she had cursed him, he would have been long dead - Only they knew how many times he was close to death. And as of cursing his family... Calliope would have been long dead, should she not have told him about the Ambrosia fruit, and given him Apollo's Flame to guide him, so that could not be it. Still, perhaps some day, he would ask her about her involvement with the Sisters of Fate. He needs to have his past erased, and though she told him she does not have such powers, he still hopes that, some day soon, some God will finally liberate him from the shackles of his past.

Kratos now returned back to the mortal realm, a hero, having saved humanity, yet that meant little to him. By forsaking his daughter, he had abandoned the only person he ever cared for, and broke his promise to his wife about protecting them with his life. What he had long sought and finally found, was now, forever lost.

Lost, as all his thoughts, and non-existent, as all the answers that he was seeking for - And for five more years, he would be serving the Gods once more...

Until the fated task of killing the God of War had finally been given.

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#god of war x reader #god of war imagine #god of war #kratos imagine #kratos x reader #kratos #calliope #lysandra #athena #ares #zeus #deicide

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unidentifiedtomdoe · 3 years ago

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Remaking the Sailor Moon AU, in honor of me getting all of the Classic/90s Manga

Fun Facts about this AU!

At first the Sailor Guardians eyes and hair could have changed colors, but the idea was scrapped. I kept the idea though. Kokichi's eyes change to a golden color and loses the colored tips, while Kaito's hair darkens and his eyes change to a pink color.

Kokichi is a girl in this AU, but she's mistaken for a guy since the first time she went to their highschool, she wore the men's uniform since she had been running late and she did sort of look like a guy. She hasn't corrected anybody, and her teachers refer to her just as "Ouma"

Kaito, Maki, Shuichi, Rantaro, Tsumugi, Angie, Kaede, Miu and Kiibo have been switched around. Kiibo and Miu switched to be humans rather than take Artemis and Luna's place. Miu took the place of Sailor Mercury while Kaede became Sailor Venus. Maki became Sailor Mars instead of being Sailor Saturn while Kaito lost his connection to Sailor Mars and purely became Tuxedo Mask. Angie, Shuichi, Kiibo and Rantaro are just normal students but Rantaro and Shuichi know about their friends having Sailor Crystals.

Kaede transfers to the class later on into the story.

The cats are MonoTaro and MonoPhanie. Maki on the other hand has 2 dogs instead of Crows. They're named Phobos and Deimos like the crows but Phobos is a nice goofy dog while Deimos is like a rabid chihuahua.

Kokichi and Rantaro call Miu "Irumau". It's because she always signs stuff with a mouse so they added the first part of Mausu to her name. Kokichi and Rantaro's nicknames aren't as clever so they just get their first names.

I felt like Mamoru's insecurity in Sailor Moon is like Kaito's in v3 so that's another reason why Kaito gained the Tuxedo Mask title and Maki got the Sailor Mars place.

Maki can't read fire or banish evil spirits like Rei did. Instead she's a very sharp shooter and has been known to not miss her target.

Miu isn't a full scale inventor, but still loves to tinker with random clocks or calculators.

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e1dritchqueer · 2 years ago

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1, 2, 3, for Callisto! :D

1. What is your ocs full name? Does this name have any special meaning/history? Callisto Noa! For meaning, it's kinda twofold. Callisto the moon/greek myth dosen't exist in the setting of the UNITYxEclipse game as we thought it'd be interesting if "earth" wasn't... our Earth with all the same things (This was espcieally apparent when devolping the Chorus (a space theocracy about mechs being seen as gods among other things)) however spacey names/names of celestial bodies are really cool and it's a great scource of sci fi names (especially named geographic features of planets). I largely chose it because I thought it sounded cool and fit the character I had in my mind. To Callisto herself though, it's incredibly important. It's a name she chose and is very important to her because it's hers. Callisto is a character who at the current moment, is filled with feelings of inadequecy and feel like she doesn't deserve/is worthy of anything, so she often doesn't allow herself those things. However, her name is one of the few things that she sees as hers, despite it all, She's still Callisto. And that idea of names/identity is something I want to play around with alot, especially with regards to the stuff with her nickname/callsign!!

Also one short note, I chose her last name "Noa" from the Mobile Suit Gundam Character Bright Noa, mainly bc it sounded cool and I love how Tomino does sci fi names

2. Does your oc have any nicknames? How did they get these nicknames? The only thing close to a nickname she has at the moment is Wraith, her callsign. And oh do I have a lot of thoughts about it. A big part of Callisto is the fact that she is inhabiting a facade and that nickname is very much part of it. The thing is, the "Wraith" is an Ascencian (space fascists) pilot named Argyre Zephra Solis and his mech the Wraith of Deimos (it has a loonger title of it's "acchivements" bc well it's a fascist weapon of war), a feared name and part of one of the most powerful Leviathan (a leviathan is their name for like... the in world equivalent of an Eva/Gundam) squads on the Unity Ring. "Wriath" is a "war hero" and big symbol for the Ascencians + their war effort. "Wraith" is what Callisto has been running from; the war, empire, fascisim. The other thing is, the Wraith is dead. Argyre died in the assult Callisto was conscripted in. Callisto hid in the mech's bloodied cockpit to stay safe. The next time she opens her eyes she is the only mech standing in a quiet battlefield. And her hands were gripping the controls The Ascencians/Argyre's Squad open the cockpit and find someone who is def not Argye, and she's imprisoned.

The thing is, according to like... Ascencian rehetoric about the bond between a Pilot and a Leviathan, this should be impossible. To them, (something we established in worldbuilding is none of the factions have a correct idea of what a pilot's bond with their mech is) pilots are like... "chess kids"/newtypes, and Callisto is not one of them and the public knowledge of that would be catastrophic to their rhetoric. However the process of finding a Pilot compatable with a Leviathan is hard, it's not something you can force (but oh have they tried), the knowledge Argyre died in some conflict he should have won is also an unpleasent pill to swallow, so what do the Ascencians do? They make Callisto the Wraith. Till they find a real replacement, Callisto inahbits the facade of this symbol of war, a symbol she has tried running from but can't. This idea of The Wraith being tied to Callisto is something I'm trying to explore through play, even free, having espaped, she still can't change the callsign somehow, she's still bonded to the Wraith of Deimos (a Ascencian symbol), and both of them are still a knife of war. It's something she (and Deimos) despratley want to escape. Ideas of like... subverting/destroying/transforming symbols/fighting against fascist rhetoric and the ideas is something that I've been very much wanting to explore with this character. I feel like a big part of Callisto's journey is slowly becoming someone who can have agency with her identity again rather than being someone who's identity/worth (being seen as a weapon to be used, the wraith, a knife, a dog of war, etc.) deterimed by others.

Sorry, that was a REALLY long explanation for that one nickname lmao. I just have A LOT of thoughts about what Callisto being the Wraith means

3. How old is your oc? She's in her earlyish 20s! I feel around 24 or something.

OC Ask Game- The Baiscs

#girls will literally write so so so much about simple questions lmao #I may be extremely autistic about callisto #ty for the ask! :3 #oc: callisto noa #UNITYxEclipse #beam saber #ella

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recorder-of-madness · 3 years ago

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A Love made of Delirium - Chapter One

Word Count - 2,703

TRIGGER WARNING - Physical Violence, Gun Violence, Bullet wound, Themes of self isolation'

Note - This is gonna be a self indulgent fanfic with my madness combat employer persona lmao, Kinda making it as a present for myself. I've been doing really well at work lately ( it's been pretty stressful so. ) and thought I deserved a treat. So fuck you, here is my ' i get to be cringe ' pass for the week. Also relationship wise for the fic I don't know yet so uhhhhhhh surprise you later I guess. I just like them all and can't decide +( This is also gonna be a yandere / have yandere elements because fuck you. I'm coping <3

They lingered at their computer, Staring at the latest work as they stretched. A full report on what they had observed from one of the many monitors of the machine. papers littered the floor while large drawers, filled with folders going back a couple years were all over the room. Photos and tapes were in their own respective piles, some were polaroid while others were shitty print outs. Some tapes were kept on vhs while others were on CDs. Each of the screens currently surrounding them either had their own DVD or vhs player. The room was only illuminated by the screens and the glowing eyes of the employer who sat in the middle of everything.

Most had not heard of the Recorder. Why? Well the name was evidence enough. A recorder simply observes and does not fool around in the endeavours they watch - only to examine and record that of what happened, a witness. Many things around Nevada did happen and sometimes they would feel bad, a sense of empathy that most, if not all, lacked. No matter how many times they perceived death: The guilt would linger. If they had been there, Would they be able to stop something from happening? They shook their head, trying to push away the moral dilemma that perplexed them day in and day out. ' That is not your job ' their thoughts replied, which they would nod in agreement with.

They pinched their nose bridge, Shivers running down their spine as they glanced away from the screen for a moment. When was the last time they had left their room? Well, They did not have reason to for so long and no one really knew their location outside of fellow employers but again. They had no idea of the others location either.

For a moment, For the first time in a while, The Recorder took a moment to consider a break. A lot could happen in a moment; Much less in a half an hour break. Then they would have to catch up and possibly miss something important. Like with the ongoing story of Hank J. Wimbledon vs the A.A.H.W. The fights that would take place were a amazement to behold. They were always so awestruck with how one man could take down a literal army. Then his co-workers, They would refer to them as friends but... from the body language they observed: he seemed to mostly stick to himself. An enigma among many Nevadans.

Sanford, Deimos: A duo of total destruction. They remembered watching the two first meet on one of their many screens and since then: They had observed just how close people can become. It was adorable to watch and a nice break from the usual cutting and tearing which was always put up onto at least one of the screens. Then there was the infamous 2BDamned, From what they recall, He wasn't even a real doctor yet the title of " Doc " was bestowed due to his vast but limited medical knowledge. He could heal someone up very well and was also a bit on the tech side of things. Very calculated in everything he did, It was always exciting to see exactly what plans he'd come up with.

The Recorder promptly had a file on each, but not just them. Almost everyone in Nevada, who'd come and gone, were stored in neat little folders accompanied by tapes and photos of the respected individuals. They hoped that if they knew, That the grunts that had died for nothing would find solace that someone would remember them: in a way there memory would be alive every time they read back through the folder, replayed a tape or simply gazed as the small photo attached to the front. They'd briefly thought about death, How perhaps the deliberator would free them from their mortal body and then stygian would escort them to the other place. Just another face in the endless piles they had recorded.

They had wandered over to the ladder, leading out the bunker. It was in the middle of nowhere and in all their years of being down here, No one but themselves entered or ever found it. Not that they minded, having no one around. It made it easier to focus on recording all the little details. Sometimes, they feared that maybe they had developed Para social relationships with some after being down here, watching so many grunts day in day out. It wouldn't be surprising but the thought was scary in itself.

' Maybe just a moment outside wouldn't hurt. ' they told themself, beginning to climb up the ladder. Each bar squeaked as new weight was put on it, Causing some discomfort. They mumbled something about having to get some oil. they continued, trying to block out the reoccurring screeches the ladder let out as they made their way up. Once they had reached the top, all that stood in the way was the turning wheel. Covered in cobwebs which made them shiver lightly

After a brief inspection to make sure there were no insect's hiding around, they turned the latch. It creaked loudly, not helping that they were next to it. Physically recoiling at the noise as they continued to turn it. it opened with a pop and for the first time in a long time, fresh air swooped into the bunker and into the recorder's lungs. Only to squeal as they realized the sun was pelting down on them. They shut their eyes tight, not used to the natural light. Whining to themself, feeling around as they attempted to climb out the rest of the way. Eventually they rolled onto their side: eyes fluttering open and shut as they attempted to become accustomed to the bright red Nevadan sun, unsure if they had missed it.

It took them a good 5 minutes to get used to it, redoing the eyes shutting and opening until they could stand the light once more. They took in their surroundings, glancing back at the once shut hatch. it was usually covered in sand, buried in the Nevadan desert. A light breeze blew past as they sat in the sand around them, grainy and slightly uncomfortable but a good change from the cold concrete floor. They dug their hands into the ground, rediscovering the way it fell through their fingers, eyes almost lighting up. How they had forgotten the beauty of the outside. Only being able to enjoy so through a screen. They tossed the sand up into the air before it fell, snickering lightly in amusement.

They dig their hands back in, leaning back to sit as they looked around. Nothing but desert really. The nearest thing was the old road nearby. It was a while away but visible from this distance. However, they squinted their eyes when they caught an interesting view. A vehicle was driving down the road. huh. Out of curiosity, they stood up to try and get a better view. It looked to be just that. A simple truck - most likely carrying supplies to whatever group owned it. Although it did seem odd when it stopped in the middle of the road, right in front of where they were standing vertical of it. Sure, they must have saw them from a distance but why stop.

The Nevadan desert stood still for a moment. Just a moment as they leaned closer, only to be shot back with a force. Their ears rung as they seemed to focus on the large bang so far away. A pain in their shoulder spread through their body. Neon green fluids began to bleed out of their wound, momentarily reaching out to touch it. They prodded it for a moment before whining and quickly retracting their hand from the wound. ' Fuck ' was all their mind could think, over and over the word repeated as they gazed back to the truck.

Red goggles stood out on the grey horizon. The dark figure slowly, but surely, making their way over. Their blood ran cold, Of-fucking-course. The ONE time they took a break. They fumbled back, Quickly getting onto their feet and scrambling back down the ladder. Not daring to look back at the large male on his way. The pain in their shoulder was quickly taken over by adrenaline, Climbing down the ladder. The squeaks of each only made their panic worse as they tried to close the hatch. Digging their claws in as they fumbled with each turn. It was hard thanks to the damaged shoulder but they hoped it would be strong enough to deter him from following them.

They climbed down the ladder, Stumbling as they reached the floor. Then everything went quiet, Everything apart from the screens their job was too observe. Taking a step back from the whole, shaking violently. Although, familiar voices quickly picked up from made then stop in their tracks.

" Hank. Hold on, what the fuck did you shoot " A voice called above the other screens, that being Deimos. A voice they'd grown to recognise from their years of watching.

" Shit. what is this? " The voice of his partner, Sanford then came from it too, prompting The Recorder to gently side step into view of the screen. Their the three were, outside the hatch and staring at it. Sanford was hunched over, but clearly motioning to some of their own splattered blood.

" Looks like someone burst open a glowstick " Deimos snickered reaching down and touching the liquid, Bringing it up to his face for a sniff. Sanford's features distorted with disgust as he smacked the back of the other's head.

" Don't fucking do that, bozo. For all we know it's poisonous " He responded only for Deimos to shrug in response. Seemingly taken aback by the familiar smell but different colour.

" Smells... like blood to me " He hummed, staring with integument more as he turned to the large male. Hank was looming over the entrance, unmoving and it only made the Recorder more anxious: feeling their heart beating out their chest: it rang in their ears. For a moment they feared Hank could hear it, echoing down here. He was a man on a mission, beginning to attempt to pry the hatch open. Thankfully, A younger Recorder was as paranoid as they were distrustful: So having an opening on the top was a big no no. At least not a visible one: there was the option for a code but they had never told anyone it outside their fellow employers. His attempts echoed down into the room, causing the Recorder to jolt: looking around for a weapon as they listened to the voices.

" Hank. I don't think that's gonna work. " Sanford responded to the others' actions, An audible huff of annoyance released from the other. That didn't stop them from their scrambling though. Fishing through everything Checking the drawers lining the wall. All came up with nothing. ' Am I really this defenceless? ' they thought as they recalled the tapes where each three had went around killing others. the way they done so without mercy. Will their head be squashed, stabbed? Perhaps their very flesh would be ripped from it's rightful place on their skin: Scratched and left to bleed out. Or perhaps everything they had work to record would be burned. No one would even know.

" Hey, Hey, Hey~, there's a code back here. I'll have it open in a jiff. Just let me.... " Deimos' voice trailed off, only heightening the anxiety they felt. Their form became goopier as tears began to gush from their eyes. They didn't want to die, Why did they have to go outside? Sobs of terror left their mouth as they collapsed to the floor. Gripping at their clothing and staring at the ladder. No... Please don't.

" Bingo! " And it was all over. They heard Deimos' voice as the screen turned to static: Indicating he was close enough to be observed from a first person stand point with them. The Recorder scrambled back under their desk, wrapping their arms around their legs. Mumbling for help, for someone to save them from their fate. They coudl hear the ladder creaking, even more dreadful than before knowing exactly who was making those sounds.

It didn't take them long for the group to find them, easily following the sound of crying and bright blood. Hank was already reaching a hand under the desk and snatching them up by the ankle before they could scream. Desperately grabbing onto anything that would stop him. Digging their claws into the table in some sort of desperate way to save themselves. At least not wanting to die in the same room they had been locked up for years. The Recorder continuing to get goopier, small black splotches falling onto the ground as they were held upside down by the ankle. As if some sort of prize Hank had hunted down for sport. He was much more intimidating and larger than they could ever imagine. After watching him for so long on that screen.

Sanford and Deimos watched with light amusement. Possibly because everyone could easily tell that from the appearance: The thing they had found was an employer. Down to the black skin and bright lime green eyes, glowing with fear. They definitely had to be one. Deimos grinned widely as he made his way over, Crouching down to their eye level as the recorder blubbered their speech, Their words not coherently stringing together.

" You're awfully small for an employer, aren't ya? " He tilted his head to mock them, finding great pleasure in their sobbing. He wasn't wrong. The recorder was absurdly short compared to most things in Nevada and the employers were no expectation. All of them stood well over 6 ft while the recorder was only at a simple 5'5. He poked their cheek only to flinch back, black goo decorating his finger tip. He rubbed it in-between his thumb and index finger: squinting to get a better look before wiping it onto his clothes.

" Fucking nasty. " Deimos murmured, glaring daggers at the Recorder who only shrunk under his gaze as they whimpered out an apology.

" I'm sorry, I'm sorry, please don't kill me " they hiccupped, still squirming lightly in Hank's grip which only caused his grip to tighten. The blood rush to their head was starting to kick in, making it both easier to think but their thoughts equally blurry. The bullet wound was bleeding slightly more than before from the sudden rush of inundation build up around it hurt more.

" I'll do whatever you want! " they added on which seemed to catch the attention of all three.

" Anything? " Sanford repeated as his head tilted in their direction: He had been taking a moment to look through the drawers of folders in the back before the words caught his ears. The phrase was familiar... but a begging employer was such a rare sight. It was definitely welcomed though.

The Recorder nodded profusely, not bothering to think of reproductions. They just wanted to live. They needed to live was all their head screamed at them. No matter the cost: that's what they told themself as they heaved through tears.

" Well. For now... Why don't you take a nap? " Deimos responded. With that, Hank seemed to shift their weight, moving to hold them up by the collar and directly in his face. The Recorder's eyes went wide, Squirming more out of terror as for the first time: They were facing Hank J. Wimbleton face to face. They only melted more, Similar to that of an ice-cream you might have left in the sun: Starting to have more little black drops melt of them and onto the paper covered floor: ruining their progress. under his gaze. They couldn't see his eyes but they cold feel those cold, crazed eyes never leaving their face. He reeled his head back carefully and for a moment: The Recorder felt a wave of calm wash over them. Was he going to just... let them go? the thought was interrupted by Hank as he moved his head back with immense force, slamming it down into their forehead as all went black.

#A Love made of Delirium #yandere madness combat #madness combat oc #madness combat sona #cw yandere #yandere cw

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deliahscrush2003 · 4 years ago

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Fandom: Star Wars: The Clone Wars.

Face Claim: Timothée Chalamet.

Fic Series: The Seda Series.

Fic Playlist: The Seda Series Playlist.

Story Board: The Seda Series.

Pinterest Board: Rivin Nox.

Headcannons: 1 | 2 | 3 |

Concept Art: 1 |

Moodboard: 1 |

Full Name: Rivin of House Nox.

Nicknames: Nox (Serina).

Title:

His Grace, Duke Nox of Serenno.

Separatist Representative Rivin Nox of Serenno.

Gender: Male.

DOB: Quintus 25, 38 BBY.

Star sign: Gemini.

Age: 16 (22 BBY) 17B (21 BBY) 18 (20 BBY) 19 (19 BBY)

Affiliation: Confederacy of Independent Systems, Count Dooku, House Nox, Serenno.

Occupation: Serennian Nobleman of House Nox, Head of House Nox, Separatist Representative of Serenno.

Sexuality: Bisexual.

Homeworld: Serenno.

Species: Human Force-Sensitive.

Location: Carannia, Serenno. The Outer Rim.

Moral Alignment: Lawful Neutral.

MBTI: ESTJ - Executive.

Background:

In a galaxy far, far away...

Rivin Nox and his sister, Afrina, were born in the year 38 BBy to Duke Deimos and Duchess Anya of House Nox. He grew up in the capital city of Carannia in their manor house off the shoreline of the Belsallian Sea where he and his sister would spend their time as young children.

As the eldest son of a noble house, Rivin was tutored by the best scholars in Serenno, preparing for the day he would take over his father as Duke and Head of House Nox, mastering knowledge of politics, languages of the Outer Rim, the history of the Galactic Republic, the planetary systems, and the culture of non-human species.

In the year 24 BBY when Rivin and Afina were just 14, they lost their mother and grandmother when their ship was ambushed by Republican officers who were given misinformed, believing that the ship belonged to the Hutts and was carrying dangerous contraband.

In his grief, Rivin grew close to his great-uncle, Count Dooku, who reinforced the young boy's anger in the Republic by teaching him that the Republic was inherently corrupt, instilling ideas of a system lost to chaos and grave injustice.

Rivin began to despise the Republic for their insincere response to the deaths of his grandmother and mother. As someone who was raised on values of extreme justice and honour, he interpreted the inaction on the Republic's behalf as a lazy and cowardly response, only furthering his belief that it was time for a chance.

Rivin believed that the system no longer could be trusted and that a new system needed to be put into place. When Count Dooku introduced the Confederacy of Independent Systems to the Great Assembly House where the Serennian Lords held Council. It Rivin that convinced his father to agree to the movement, supporting his uncle's cause wholeheartedly.

Additionally, following the deaths of his mother and grandmother, he became Dooku's apprentice after showing potential with the Force. He cultivated his ability to sense the Force and was given his great-uncle's lightsaber, replacing the curved handle with a crossguard hilt.

Curiously, his uncle refrained from teaching him any codes that aligned with either the Jedi or the Sith, allowing him to adopt his own beliefs of honour and order as a Force-User, neither dark side or light side.

This allowed him to make appearances within the Great Assembly House, and later the Separatist Council, without betraying his lessons with his uncle, as he bore none of the features synonymous with either Jedi or Sith with the exception of his lightsaber which he kept hidden under his Serennian cloak.

By the time the Clone Wars begun in the year 22 BBY, Rivin (16) was attending Separatist council meetings alongside his father and uncle, learning the politics of the Confederacy while exposed to the lengths they were forced to go to in order to maintain their beliefs in an order free of corruption.

However, Serenno was one of the few planets protected from the Republic's wrath. Therefore, Rivin did not see much of the war outside of the film clips the Confederacy aired on their planet, showing the monstrous brutality of the Republic's clone army as they swept across the Outer Rim and overthrew planetary governments to instil the Chancellor's mindless puppets.

That all changed the following year after his father, Duke Deimos, abdicated from Head of the House and Rivin (17) preceded him. Rivin took his spot in the Great Assembly House and as Serenno's representative in the Separatist Council, a feat that Dooku notably approved of, citing that the Confederacy could only benefit from the perspectives of the youth.

A few months later, Rivin was given his first mission by his uncle.

Following the proposal of peace-talks put forth by Senator Bonteri of Onderon, Rivin was approached by his uncle with evidence that Mina Bonteri was in communication with renown Republic senator, Padme Amidala of Naboo, in company with two Jedi.

Dooku charged Rivin with executing Mina Bonteri for treason and sent him to Raxus along with a two bounty hunters to complete his mission.

Family:

Count Dooku of House Serenno (great-uncle)

Lady Jenza of House Serenno (grandmother) †

Anya, Duchess of House Nox (formerly Serenno) (mother) †

Duke Deimos of House Nox (father)

Lady Afina of House Nox (twin sister)

Friends:

Lady Afina of House Nox (his only friend, because he's lame)

Frenemy:

Lux Bonteri of Onderon (makes a good team when Lux gets over that one time Nox was sent to kill his mom)

Jedi Padawan Ahsoka Tano of the Jedi Order (gets along when Serina is concerned otherwise its sabers out and threats are flying)

Enemies:

The Republic (currently)

The Jedi Order (currently)

Love Interest:

Serina Seda (enemies, occasional ally, the girl who kicked his ass)

FUN FACTS:

• blue lightsaber with a crossguard hilt • has a faint scar over his left eye • thinks almost dying together is an ideal first date • touchstarved • will go along with schemes out of boredom • is charming and very popular in the political circles • values honour and reliability • business and pleasure • believes that the Republic is a source of chaos and corruption, and that order must be restored • doesn't consider himself a Sith but a Force-User • is a twin • calling you a 'debt' is as close as he comes to admitting he's in love • kaz brekker but with a real nice cloak and with gloves off™ •

[ [ If you have any questions about Rivin Nox, don't be afraid to drop an asks in the inbox ] ]

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that-gt-and-vore-stuffs · 4 years ago

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Experiment 05SB

Alternatively titled “I’m sorry 2B don’t hate me please”

I hath given in to the M4dc0m brain rot at the cost of me now having written a 7k+ word fic because I’m not confident enough in my art skills to draw it at the moment. Here we go!

Oh, there’s also implied fatal in this (it’s of unnamed characters, plus this is M4dc0m, but I’ve gotta say it. I guess you could take it as reformation if you really wanted to.). Mentions of blood I guess?

As always, Vore under the cut :)

“Ey 2b? You there?” Deimos’s voice crackled to life through the plastic earpiece currently jammed into his left ear, yanking the hacker and unofficial ‘team medic’ as he was called once (much to his own confusion. Sure, he knew basic medical but by no means was he any sort of doctor) back into reality. A brief moment passed in the silence of his room, more often called ‘the lab’, of their base before everything came crashing back at once. Deimos, Sanford, and Hank were out raiding a A.A.H.W warehouse at his instruction. Meaning he was alone in their base, also known as a breaking down appartement they had taken shelter in. It had electricity and provided shelter from the harsh hell scape that had once been the state of Nevada. A dark red sunless sky overhead, vegetation and any ecosystems completely wiped out from what they’d seen, bandits and zeds equally ready to eat the nearest person if it meant living another day, the Agency hunting you down if they thought you’d possibly be working against them or with the infamous Hank J. Wimbleton, and having little to no essential resources for days at a time to top it all off like some twisted cherry on this sick cake. Home sweet fucking home.

“Doc? Helllloooo?” Shit, right. Deimos.

“Sorry, I’m here. What is it Deimos?”

“And the medic lives!” The small cheer was accompanied by laughter from the smallest member of the team. Jebus, how was he able to joke in even the most dire situations?

“Just get to the point, chucklehead.” 2b could hear Sanford add in over the static, the man’s laughter just barely making it to tired ears.

“Right right, sorry man. Anyway, if we wanted to get food on the way back would you say no?” Pardon? There was no way he was hearing that right. There were several reasons why he couldn’t be hearing that right. A. food wasn’t by any means the easiest thing to come by in this hellhole, B. restaurants weren’t really a common thing anymore so those were out of the picture, and C. there’s no way they could p- actually, scratch that last one. Robbing a corpse wouldn’t be the weirdest thing that those three had done. Not by a long shot. Still though, how was he supposed to respond to that request?

“…what?” Apparently by asking the first word on his mind.

“We saw that one hotdog vendor on the way here and we’re all starving. Can we or can we not get hotdogs on the way back?” Oh. That’s what Deimos ment. How on earth had that hotdog vendor not been killed yet?

“Is this a genuine ‘we’ or is it a ‘me’, Deimos?” That seemed like a more fair and answerable question.

“Hey I-!”

“It’s a genuine ‘we’ Doc,” Sanford’s voice chimed in. By the cursing in the background 2b could imagine that he had flipped up Deimos’s mic to temporarily mute him in the realm of their earpieces. “Pretty sure one of our stomachs gave us away to the last group of agents we had to take out. Not gonna point fingers but I’m pretty sure it was Hank- Ack! I’m just saying!”

“Thought we weren’t pointing fingers.” There was the third voice. Rough from years of fighting yet still all too recognizable as Hank. The same Hank J. Wimbleton on the wanted posters that scattered the walls of almost every nearby building, wanted dead by the Auditor and his whole agency. He must’ve smacked Sanford for his comment. Well at least he didn’t do worse, whether on purpose or accident.

“We aren’t. Now Cmon Doc, you never answered my question.” Hearing the other hacker’s voice ask for an answer again 2b sighed. Always eager, wasn’t he? How the man had seemingly endless energy on missions would forever remain a mystery to him, Jebus be damned.

“I don’t really care what you do on the way back so long as you all come back in one piece and with the stuff I sent you there for. Understood?”

“Aye aye, Captain Doc! Over and out!” And there they went. The earpiece went dead, leaving 2b on his own once again once he flicked up his own mic. Back to silence. Sweet sweet silence. It wasn’t often they got that in their shared apartment of a base. Someone was always awake, someone was always saying something. It was never really quiet unless you were lucky enough to be the only one awake. 2BDamned had seen plenty of those rare times, if only because he overworked himself and didn’t sleep. So maybe it was one of his less than desirable qualities, when living in a hellscape being ten steps ahead of the agency trying to kill you is always good. He had to keep that up, on top of keeping the others alive and well.

And then there was his little experiment. That also was taking a toll on how little he slept. Not all that long ago the trio had returned from a mission with the data he had requested and more. Specifically a duffel bag full of seemingly shrunken grunts and two only slightly bigger shrunken MAGs. Pft, how funny it was to say that. A shrunken MAG. Hell, he wouldn’t believe it if you told him with no proof. The idea seemed insane. Oh but it wasn't. Not by a long shot if the cages sitting on one of his tables said anything. Normally he’d call such a thing like keeping people in cages inhumane, not that there were many humane things in this hellhole to begin with. He’d expect keeping them in cages that probably used to be for pets to be a move pulled by the Agency, not himself, however he had to make do with what they could find and had access to. Also known as: not much at all. He wanted to study them after all. Letting them free was just not an option.

Now that probably sounds bad, studying living beings like himself, but one couldn’t blame 2b when you considered his situation (at least he hopes one couldn’t). Somehow the Agency found a way to shrink living beings. That’s power that could be used against him and the others to make everything turn for the worst, something which he wanted to avoid at all costs. However, if one of his teammates or himself were to be shrunken on a mission it would be possibly lifesaving to know how to reverse the effects. Plus, having the power to shrink enemies on their side could certainly prove useful. All that being said, he needed these few alive in order to try and figure out what caused them to be how they were. Hence the repurposed, beat up pet cages. Two of them to be exact. One held the grunts and the other for the two MAG agents. None of them had killed each other yet, so that was nice. A few simple experiments and a dissection of a grunt that had been dead upon arrival to him proved that they still functioned as they would if they were their normal size. Just on a smaller scale. He had sent Hank, Deimos, and Sanford out for supplies today, yes, though if they found any information regarding the shrinking of their little ‘guests’ then they were to bring it to him. With no information on that though, he had to continue his other work. Tired eyes met the screen through red goggles. Moments later his head found itself cushioned in the crook of one of his arms.

“What the hell.” 2b grumbled, a fresh headache slowly starting to pound against the inside of his skull. What the hell was up with him? He should be fine. This was only his second day without proper ‘longer-then-15-minutes’ sleep. He’d gone longer before, he should be able to function. Why was the screen giving him such a headache now of all times? He needed to get stuff done. He needed to finish up this…this……what was he working on again? Hold on, no, he should remember. This shouldn’t be slipping his mind like it is. Maybe if he just thought back a few minutes. It would come back to him, right?

“Ok right before Deimos called, what was I doing?” 2b thought out loud to himself, trying his hardest to recall what had happened prior to the call from his allies. ”I was sitting here…then Deimos called in. Wait, no. Go back. From the top. Since…however long ago I’ve been sitting here, working on…what was I working on before Deimos asked about getting food? I sent them on the raid, didn’t eat, got to work and- no. That’s not it. Why can’t I just-“

Gggnnnnnnrrrr…

Oh well fuck him. That’s why he couldn’t focus. 2b groaned, not bothering to hide the noise as of now. He was alone, no one would hear him or tease him. Unless you would count the shrunken men in the cages, however it wasn’t likely they’d say anything. When you’re the size of a rat, spare the MAGs who were more rabbit sized, to your captor pissing them off seemed like the worst thing one could do. Clearly the hacker wasn’t at all in the mood to deal with teasing, so their mouths remained shut. That left 2b alone to deal with his complaining stomach, a feat which proved easier said than done when one was going off a day and a half without properly sleeping. He couldn’t even remember the last time he ate something. It was all just fuzzing together at this point.

Pushing himself off his desk 2b flopped back into the worn chair he’d been sitting in for God knows how long. Relaxing into the backrest was certainly more comfortable than being hunched over a laptop screen typing away like he had been for the past day or two. A hand fell to rest over his stomach while the other removed his goggles. Those were not helping the blooming headache. A low growl from his stomach drew a small hiss through his teeth, the sound being accompanied by a familiar empty cramping.

“Oh you can shut up.” He grumbled at the organ half heartedly, “It’s not like I can eat anything right now. There’s a reason I sent Hank and the others out.” His stomach growled back, the empty sound ringing in the hacker’s ears. He needed to eat, that was undeniable. The problem was getting something to eat. He had few options, none of which he particularly liked. Option 1. going out to look for something even slightly edible on his own, option 2. wait and hope the others found and brought back food, or option 3. contact the others through his headset and ask them to get him something on the way back. The first option was clearly undesirable on its own and the other two weren’t much better. Sure, asking them to grab something for him would probably be easiest and most logical, however he was almost certain that they didn’t want to hear that out of the blue in the middle of a fight. That and he didn’t want to deal with any teasing that might come along with asking. He wasn’t about to take that chance when he had things to do. He couldn’t remember those things at the moment, sure, but they were still things he had to do! So asking was not an available option at the moment. That left waiting and hoping for the best.

Rrrrrrrnnngggggg….

“I know. I don’t like the idea either.” 2b sighed as he spun around in his chair, gently patting his stomach. He needed to get out of his chair, even if it was just a walk around his room. He needed something after a day and a half straight of sitting there hunched over staring at a screen. Maybe it’d help with the headache if he was lucky. Probably wouldn’t but hey a man could dream. With a small grunt of effort the hacker found himself on his feet, his balance wobbling and legs feeling like brittle pasta beneath him. Ah, that's what I wanted to do earlier. Go figure taking breaks gets ignored by my brain. “However, I do believe it’ll end with the best result. I’m sure they’ll be home soon anyway.”

They wouldn’t. That was a lie, to himself and to his stomach alike. He likely had a few more hours alone, maybe two at least. The A.A.H.W warehouse he’d sent them to was big and if you account for fighting delays and them stopping on the way back then the chance of them being back in the next two hours would be some sort of miracle. By the way his stomach reacted every time he brushed over the thought that the trio was getting food on the way back then he wasn’t going to be looking so hot by the time they arrived back. Oh he was going to get the short end of the stick no matter what he did, wasn’t he? Talk about luck. 2b sighed, running a hand up and through his hair as he walked along one of the walls of his small room. His stomach clearly wasn’t shutting up any time soon so the next best course of action would be to ignore it. Maybe that would help him wait it out. What could he focus on? There was work, he could clean up a little bit maybe, or he could focus on the rattling coming from the cages and-

Hold on.

That most certainly wasn’t right. 2b cocked an eyebrow, crossing the room to where the three cages were placed. Quite the interesting scene was playing out before him. From what he could see a few of the shrunken grunts were teaming up to try and break out of the cages. This wasn’t their first little escape attempt, no, but it interested him enough as he stood there watching and attempting to grab his tablet at the same time. Eventually he had succeeded, opening up a new document to scribble down a few notes.

Title: Log 073SB

Time: 6:34 pm, xx/xx/xx

Author: 2BDamned

Note: Grunts working together to attempt escape. MAG agent seems to be attempting to cause a distraction by rattling the wall of the cage. Or perhaps they just want out. Very annoying either way. None seem bothered by my presence.

Satisfied with his little note, 2b closed the tablet and set it down on the counter next to one of the cages. Whether it was him being too rough with setting the tablet down or the low grumble from his stomach that startled the cage of grunts was up for debate, but currently he couldn’t find it in himself to care. Right now he needed to have a chat with the little troublemakers. Without hesitation the unofficial medic reached forward, opening the little hinged door located on top of the cage with ease compared to what the grunts inside were attempting before. He didn’t think twice before he reached in and grabbed the two topmost grunts from the pile of attempted escapees before retracting his hand, repeating the process with his other hand, and finally closing the cage. Hands now full, each holding two fighting bodies, the hacker sighed.

“Escape huh? How many times have you already tried that and it didn’t work?” 2b asked, a less than impressed tone lacing his voice. Sure, he needed a distraction from his stomach but he didn’t want to have to deal with escape attempts left and right for the next however long. “What made you think it’d go any different this time?”

There was a moment of silence before a soft voice spoke up, one that clearly hadn’t been used recently. One of the grunts in his left hand. “W-we figured i-if we actually tried and w-worked together then maybe we’d b-be able to manage a successful…e-escape…”

“Really now? Interesting.” 2b mumbled, looking over the grunt in his hand. They were all so small. You’d think he’d have gotten used to their size by now but every time he held one it seemed to slap him in the face. Offing them if they got too rowdy wouldn’t be hard at all. Wouldn’t need to use anything to begin with. How crazy it was. “Though I’m not sure I can let this slide as I have with previous instances.”

“W-what?” His response seemed to temporarily stun the four in his hands, most likely because of how it was different from his previous comments on their attempted escapes. A shiver passed over them like a wave while the hacker only nodded.

“Your previous attempts at escape. While I can understand why one would try I’ve made it quite clear that successful escapes won’t be happening nor tolerated, correct? I need to prove my point here because you all clearly don’t understand words.” He shifted on his feet slightly, a new question wracking his brain. What could he do to show he wasn’t going to deal with constant escape attempts? It had to be something that stuck, seeing as they clearly didn’t understand his earlier comments about escape not being tolerated. Only a few moments of silence passed before his lips were moving again. “You four are going somewhere else. A stronger holding space. If any of the others try anything they’ll join you. Simple, yet effective.” Or it would be if he knew exactly where he planned to stick these four. What did he have that could serve as a stronger cell for them? The cages were already pretty secure in terms of what he could work with. He just needed something stronger, close to him, hard to escape, and threatening that held a sense of danger with it. But what could that be? His eyes darted around the makeshift lab, trying to find something.

Grrrrroowwwllll…

2b’s eyes slowly scanned down from his shaking captives to his stomach. For a moment he just stared, eyes lacking any readable emotion. Well now that was certainly an option. It fit his criteria. Almost too well. Strong, hard to escape, close to him, and it held a sense of danger. Under his mask his torn and scared lips quirked up into a little smirk. “Mmhm. That’ll do quite nicely, in fact~”

The final moments of peace were shattered as the meaning of his words collided with his captives like a well aimed punch to the gut. Hearts sunk to their feet like rocks in water, despair rearing it’s head in their struggles. Those fortunate enough to remain in the cages simply watched with a muted horror as the four bodies were tossed onto the table and held down with little to no effort. The hacker wasted no time removing the mask and bandages that usually covered his mouth, tossing the fabrics haphazardly beside his discarded tablet. Despite the word fresh being the last thing he’d use to describe the Nevada air, 2b knew he’d be lying if he said it wasn’t nice to just breathe the air in alone and not through the layers of fabric like he often did. With the temporary roadblock now gone his eyes drifted downward to the bodies pinned beneath his hand.

“Well, I believe that eliminates any preventable issues we could encounter here.” He hummed softly, plucking the grunt who was covered by his hand the least up into the air. It certainly was odd to watch the little body squirm and fight against him, all attacks on the two fingers holding it proving futile. Their only hope seemed to be 2b letting them go, something which proved less and less likely the longer they studied the look in the hackers eyes. It wasn’t a look one ever wanted to find themself on the receiving end of. The sight of sharp teeth, glimmering with saliva through grinning lips, certainly did not help to lower the grunt’s heart rate at all. 2b simply clicked his tongue. “Meaning stalling time is up. Stay still, won’t you?”

The grunt did not, in fact, stay still. It was impossible to do so as far as they knew when you had a spit soaked tongue dragging up every inch of your front, sharp daggers of teeth only millimeters from their face. A deafening silence washed over the others, only being broken by a small pleased hum from their normal sized captor.

“Not bad…” the man mumbled, dragging his tongue up the squirming grunt yet again. A small voice in the back of his mind, his voice of reason, yelled out the obvious loud and clear to him plenty of times: this was wrong. It wasn’t right to be doing what he was about to do. This was stooping down to the bandits level, something he never intended to do unless absolutely necessary. He shouldn’t be enjoying the taste of another living being like this. And yet…here he was. Ignoring any logic and reason in his mind to proceed with this. Thank goodness he was alone. 2b didn’t even want to think about what the others might say if they were to see him how he was now. Shaking his head softly he shoved away the thought, opening his jaw as far as the joint and scarred tissue that made up his cheeks would allow. He wasn’t sure whether to be impressed or concerned with how easily the small body slipped into his mouth.

Despite their best efforts to squirm free of their new confinement, the slippery surroundings of the unofficial doctor’s maw proved to have horrible traction. Saliva dropped onto the unfortunate grunt’s head from above while they desperately tried to crawl out of the dark cavern. Feet scrambled on the soaked surface of their predator’s tongue as the muscle moved and flipped them around as if they were some piece of candy, all while their hands desperately tried to keep as little of them between the axe like teeth. One bite and they were done for, a terrifying thought. Through it all only three sounds were ever heard from those lucky enough to not be in the current grunt’s position. The sickening sounds of soaked struggle, terrified yelps from the grunt stuck within 2b’s jaws, and the occasional hum from the man himself. The torture, as those watching from the cage would describe it, seemed to continue for hours and hours on end.

Glk

Glp~

Until it all stopped with two simple swallows and a collective gasp of horror from those watching. The relaxed posture of the man they all watched failed to help their situation.

“H….huhh…that was..” the uncertified medic breathed, breaking the silence. His free hand lazily felt down his throat, tracing where he could feel the squirming body slip further down by the second. It didn’t take a genius to decipher that the less angry sounding gurgle from the man’s stomach signaled the end of the unfortunate grunt’s descent. With eyes widened just beyond his natural look 2b gently pressed his stomach. How interesting it was, as morbid as it might sound, to feel something squirming around inside the organ. Before he could even stop to consider a better way to word his thoughts, he finished his sentence. Just not in the way the grunts wanted to hear. “…incredibly easy.”

The last thing any of the remaining grunts wanted to see was those eyes scan up slowly before locking on them as if they were some sort of dessert. The clearly out of place smile on the man’s face didn’t help the feeling of impending doom either. If anything it only made it worse as a rough hand plucked another grunt from the selected three that had remained under his hand. Down, beneath his newfound curiosity and odd urge to continue what he was doing, 2b knew he should have been more concerned about how easy this was coming to him. No sane person would take so calmly to swallowing living beings, especially not of his own kind. Yet here he was, smirking as he licked over his scarred lips with cold eyes locked onto the small shaking body like a cat would after spotting a mouse. Looking at their sizes in comparison to one another? The simile was scarily accurate. Through his whole little mental debate the hacker found it all too easy to slip the small body into his mouth, licking it over to draw out as much of that strangely addicting taste before slowly beginning to nudge it back. Just bit by bit until it was far enough.

Glrk

Grk~

“Two down…haahhh…two to go…” the hacker sighed as he traced the lump down his throat. There was a waiting period once more but it didn’t last long before the shiver inducing gurgle signified where the poor soul had ended up. How the man hadn’t gotten sick yet was beyond the understanding of those who witnessed the event and even the man himself. Surely he should feel at least a little nauseous with two rat sized bodies squirming within his stomach. Nausea and fullness were the two sensations he had expected by now and yet neither had shown their face yet. Deep within his mind, from an area he didn’t even know existed until it spoke, a voice urged him to test his limits. 2b had shaken that idea off nearly immediately. As….enticing as that idea was, he still needed a few of the shrunken grunts alive and well to continue his attempts to recreate and reverse however the Agency had shrunken them before. Four however….well that wasn’t the biggest loss in the world if something happened to go wrong. Leaning a little more heavily over the table he grabbed one of the last two grunts, shoving the struggling body into his mouth head first. Quite the sight it was to watch flailing legs be slurped into someone’s mouth like nothing more than wet noodles. Interesting and horrifying.

Glp

Glrk~

Though compared to seeing someone who had been beside you ten minutes ago disappear down your captor’s throat as nothing more than a barely visible lump would top it in the scarring scale. Nothing could compare to that sight. Good god was it terrifying. The reality that escape was impossible was all but cemented into the remaining grunts' brains now, as that had been what had gotten their companions into this situation in the first place. This was happening because their capturer wanted to prove his point that attempted escape would not be tolerated. At this point they were convinced they’d have to have a death wish to attempt escape now. Especially when their conditions weren’t horrible compared to what they could be in, something which hadn’t crossed their minds till now. Now don’t take their words wrong, by no means did they want to stay here. Especially not now. However, if it meant living another day and not ending up as lunch? Staying definitely was the preferable option.

“One to go. Damn.” The hacker's voice snapped all attention back to him. His position had changed, now leaning back on the table as he looked over the struggling form in his hands. The words seemed to flow from his mouth without too much thought needed behind them. They just felt…right. It was a feeling he never expected to experience in such a context that he was now, much less to have it almost piloting him as it felt now, but he was nearly willing to say he welcomed it. He wasn't well acquainted with the idea of eating living beings after all, so the subconscious help to ease the process along wasn’t something he’d push away. Not unless it were to cause an issue that is. However, nothing of the sort had happened yet, meaning he was going to keep letting his actions flow naturally.

Just as he had with the three before this one, 2b wasted little time starting towards his goal. Raising the grunt just above his head the man dangled the flailing body over his open mouth, a sight that he could assume would terrify anyone in the grunt’s position. All went smoothly as he lowered the small body in. That is until the grunt, having seen an opportunity and taken it, grabbed and yanked down his mic. While he tried to react as quickly as possible, he could only pray the microphone had not managed to pick up the gag he’d made after panic and shock had caused him to jolt forward and send the grunt to the back of his throat. He flipped up the mic as fast as he could, trying to determine the best course of action one could take with a squirming body halfway down their throat and a possibility of having just been ratted out to the others by their lunch. He was screwed were they to find out, what with how at least two of the three always seemed to be looking for teasing ammunition. That and this….well this wasn’t exactly normal, you know.

“Doc? Is everything ok over there?” Fuck. That wasn’t good. Ignoring the sinking feeling of dread in his chest the best he could, 2b took a deep breath and forced the fourth grunt down with a swallow that took a little more effort then he felt it should’ve. Flipping down the mic, he answered.

“Damnit- yes. I'm fine, Sanford. Don’t worry.” The sentence had to be his least convincing lie yet. Between his heavy breathing and dryness in his throat he could tell his voice wasn’t helping him in any way. Now he didn’t take his teammates for idiots, despite how it sure seemed like they were sometimes, but in the moment he found himself wishing they were.

“You sure? You don’t sound all that fine. Did something happen back at base?” The worry beginning to lace the man’s voice through the static filled earpiece only served to worsen the feeling of dread in 2b’s chest. He needed to get Sanford, and the others who were no doubt listening, off the idea something had happened. He needed to deal with the whole I-just-swallowed-four-people-alive thing before they came back, so them returning early was not in the plan.

“No, nothing happened.” He shot back, only realizing the speed in his voice wasn’t too reassuring after he said it. Ok, what was a believable excuse for why he sounded like he did? “I just…spilt coffee on my legs after burning my mouth. Must’ve knocked the mic down in the process.” With a hand to his chest the hacker forced a soft swallow, trying to at least get rid of the uncomfortable dryness that had settled in the back of his throat. Please say they believed that.

“Pft, really? Damn, wish I could’ve seen that. Think you looked like one of those old cartoons, Doc?” Phew, crisis averted.

“Real funny, Deimos. Get back to your mission.” 2b shook his head at the comment. At least they seemed to believe him. It was worth it, even if the mental image of those over exaggerated cartoon characters was now going to show up whenever he even slightly burnt his mouth on coffee. Oh well, some sacrifices must be made.

“Alright alright. We’re going.” The man on the other end laughed. Those idiots. Damn his heart caring for them, now he was attached. “See you when we get back. Over and out, Doc!” And there they went.

Fighting off his own soft laughter, 2b flipped up his mic. A soft sigh escaped him before he could even think to stop it. That could’ve been horrible. While one hand softly rubbed at his neck, sore from what he had to guess was the miniature disaster that just took place, the other gently laid itself over his stomach. The four inside never seemed to stop moving, constantly squirming and slipping about. There were a handful of reasons he could assume was the cause, though the most likely was that being shoved into a soaking wet moving sack with three of your colleagues provided little traction or ability to get comfortable. That and panic. Panic was probably a rather big factor in how they were feeling. 2b, on the other hand, had to be feeling the exact opposite of how they were. The warm weight of his four ‘victims’ was a welcome sensation within the previously empty pit of his stomach. As twisted as he knew it sounded, he would’ve been confident saying that what he was feeling was honestly satisfactory. Why having living beings stretch and actually round out his stomach in a barely noticeable way was causing this feeling was a mystery to him, but at the moment he couldn’t find it in himself to care. Not when it felt this nice.

“I hope I’ve made my point clear.” The unofficial medic hummed, looking over to the grunt filled cage. They had backed away from him by now, huddled in the back most corner of their confines. The sight drew a genuine laugh from the man they all seemed to fear ten times more than before. Well that was proof if he’d ever seen it. Looks like their escape wasn’t something he had to worry about any more. So maybe he sacrificed a little of his ‘I’m not going to hurt you’ act for this. It was worth it in his eyes. And besides, he was probably the most gentle with them out of his whole little gang. If they wanted to be left with one of the others then go ahead. Although being left with the mercenary who you were created to kill didn’t sound like the most fun time to him. Smirking, he collected his goggles, mask, and tablet from the table. “It seems I have. Glad we could have this little -hic!- chat. Heh.”

He gave the cage a pat, the rattling of the metal only serving to scare the grunts further back in the ball of bodies they’d curled into, before turning to walk back to his desk. He needed to sit down. Standing apparently became a lot harder when you had four people fighting against your insides. Thinking back, he didn’t know what he would have expected. Did he stumble a little bit trying to get back to his desk? Yes, he did. It was like he forgot how to walk in all honesty. Another reason he was glad he was alone in their base. Like most things though it proved worth it when he finally collapsed into the worn chair he used for work. Without thinking twice he opened his tablet and started a new log.

—————————

“Doc! We’re back!” The call rang out through the appartement, followed by three sets of footsteps marching their way in and the door slamming shut perhaps a little stronger than needed. As the hinges of the door stopped rattling the three expected to hear a displeased groan, followed by the ruffled form of 2b appearing in the hallway to scold them for being so aggressive or something like tracking blood into the base. Honestly, why he still bothered was a mystery to them, at least Sanford and Deimos for they had zero clue what went on in Hank’s head, for the most part. They were mercenaries, fighters, people looking to not end up with their brains splattered on the wall or something worse. They were going to be bloody upon returning, even if that blood wasn’t their own. It wasn’t like their floors were carpet or anything either. In the end though they never bothered to fight the scoldings. No use making the unofficial medic mad, especially if they needed help. The lack of disgruntled medic in the hallway or at least yelling when silence returned to the room was worrying. After a minute or two with nothing spoken and no ruffled hacker to be seen, Deimos tried again to call him.

“2b?” He called out, peering down the hallway which led to their rooms. There wasn’t any blood on the walls, a good sign to start, and no bullet holes that weren’t there before. Unless the Agency suddenly learned how to do stealth missions, something he and he knew the other two were hoping wasn’t the case, he had hopes. Again, no response from the man. Gun still in his hand he took one glance back to the others, a silent ‘follow me’, before continuing down the hallway. Although Deimos had made it to the closed door first he’d been pushed past by the red goggle wearing giant as he reached for the doorknob. Hank had been the one to open the door to 2b’s room. He’d also been the first of the trio to feel the tension in his shoulders drop. It wasn’t long after he had relaxed that he was shoved into the room by two bodies trying to get in and see any damage that could’ve been done while they were gone. The sight of 2BDamned softly snoring away in his chair, nothing in the room seeming out of place, was most certainly a welcome one.

“Ah. So that’s why he isn’t barking us up a tree for your entrance, Dei.” Sanford hummed with a laugh, careful to watch his volume. If there was one thing he didn’t want to deal with after their mission it was a cranky Doc who got woken up by them. It wasn’t a secret he didn’t necessarily sleep after all and there was no way he could survive off coffee like he seemed to silently claim he could sometimes. They all had times when their sleep schedules were fucked.

“Oh shut up, ‘Ford.” Deimos shot back with a playful punch to the man’s bicep. “It’s not like I’m the one who slammed the door. That’s what he would’ve been on our asses about.”

“You slammed it open then yelled loud enough for all of Nevada to hear you. Don’t act like you’re innocent!”

As the two’s words morphed into friendly bickering Hank took it upon himself to deliver the bit of what they got that couldn’t stay in the duffle bag slung over his shoulder at the moment. Buried in the pocket of his jacket was a small object. Something he hadn’t expected to find, but had snagged nonetheless when it had been pointed out by Deimos. For a second as he walked over to the man a rough hand dug around fabric, fingers gripping plastic as he arrived at his destination. Without thinking he tossed the USB onto the hacker’s desk, eyes wandering over small things like the empty coffee mug or discarded goggles. Behind red-tinted goggles they landed on the man’s tablet, the screen now illuminated thanks to what he could assume had been the small drive hitting the desk. Prying wasn’t something he often did when it came to his teammates, respecting their privacy as they often did his, but after a certain word caught his eye he couldn’t help but read the log that had popped up.

Title: Experiment 05SB

Time: 7:42 pm, xx/xx/xx

Author: 2BDamned

Note: I…cannot believe I’m about to write this. This is update one of Experiment 05SB, an experiment started without much if any bit of a proper plan behind it. Phase I, I suppose you could call it, was a success. The shrunken grunts are, in fact, small enough to swallow whole and…alive. MAGs have not yet been confirmed to be the same way, though I’m sure that answer will show itself one day. I am unsure why I am able to keep four of them down without feeling nauseated, but I can. I will update at a later time when more information has presented itself.

The log ended there, eyes falling away from the screen as Hank’s mind worked to process the information it had just been given. According to what had been written before the man had fallen victim to sleep, it was not only possible to swallow the shrunken beings sitting in one of the cages behind him, but the unofficial doctor had done it himself. Four times to be exact. Curiosity grabbed control of his eyes, slowly panning them up to the cage of grunts who looked noticeably more terrified than they usually did. Had they seen the whole thing go down? His mind continued to wander, finding new questions like how on earth the hacker had managed to keep living and no doubt moving beings down like the log said he did. That is unless he’d spit them up before falling asleep. However that seemed highly unlikely-

“Snooping around Doc’s stuff, are we Hank~?” When Deimos had appeared behind him was beyond the mercenary, though the shock of hearing his voice out of the blue was enough to startle him into quickly powering off 2b’s tablet and whipping around to face the two that now stood across with him with far too smug looks on their faces for his liking.

“Woah there, big guy! We didn’t mean any trouble.” Sanford cooed, the fucking Chad cooed, holding his hands up as if he was under some sort of arrest. “Just wanted to know what you were reading over here is all~.”

“Yeah, exactly. I never expected to find you clicking through Doc��s diary.” Deimos added on nearly flawlessly. Sometimes he really hated how well they worked together. Namely when it was against him. “So, was it a love confession~?”

Hank sighed, glaring at the two through his goggles. He sure fucking hoped they could see the look on his face, despite most of it being covered by bandages and his mask. Because he was not amused and he wanted them to know it.

“No, not a love confession, you morons.” He groaned, shaking his head. Telling them straight off what it said would probably be horrible. At the moment he was still having a few difficulties understanding parts of what he read. Lying just seemed like the best choice overall. It wasn’t like he’d be the only one doing so, after all. It sure seemed like 2b did to them over the mic. Speaking of the man, Hank turned around to take a good look at him. At first glance he seemed like he normally did when he passed out in his chair from overworking himself like this. It was only when Hank took an extra second to look and let the information in his brain guide him did he see the slightly out of place softness around the sleeping hacker’s stomach. Unable to help himself Hank felt his ruined remaining lip quirk up into a small smirk under his mask as he turned around to shove the Dumbass Duo out of the room so 2b could sleep.

“Bunch��a nonsense, is all. Now move. I don’t wanna deal with him if you idiots wake him up and we still have shit to put away.”

#soft vore #mawedness combat #hahaha finally!#I’ve been waiting to use that tag #implied fatal #oopsie #it’s no named character so I guess it’s not bad #I mean this is in the M4dc0m universe so don’t expect my works with these fuckers to be as sunshine as some of my N3ws¡3s ones were #2b I do hope you won’t hate me for this if you can see it

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