#I GUESS I could just make a generic head shape and paint the face on >:/ or find one that's retexturable

[diabolocracy]

Also I made my boy in SecondLife the best I could.

I can't find any appropriately scruffy-punk clothing for the base I'm using... And it's the most decent skeleton body on SL that is bento enabled and works with Kemono clothes and that skeleton head in particular. Tried to mess with transparency in retexturing some items but the alphas get all fucky and it looks terribad.

Speaking of which there's a surprising lack of bento skulls that aren't overly realistic... And only one decent Gaster head.

[homestuckreplay]

Pesterlog Timestamps

I’ve wondered before about pesterlogs not having timestamps the way real instant messages generally do. Some pesterlogs begin with a timestamp - ‘-- turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering ectoBiologist [EB] at 16:13 --’ (p.26) – but that doesn’t show the time between messages. It might be harder to read and would probably make the screen more cluttered, which is my guess as to why they’re not there, and for the most part it’s extraneous information.

But there’s one pesterlog that I think would really benefit from timestamps for each message, and it’s the late night unanswered messages Dave leaves for Jade on page 829. This page is such a great insight into Dave’s head, and there’s this clear ebb and flow to his thoughts that feels like bursts of frantic typing interspersed with pauses to wait or do other things. We know the messages start at 05:14 Dave’s time (CDT), so here’s what it might look like with timestamps.

05:14 TG: hey

A classic greeting; testing the waters and giving nothing away.

05:17 TG: oh 05:17 TG: youre asleep again arent you 05:17 TG: or do you even know if you are 05:17 TG: i still dont know how that works 05:17 TG: its like nothing means anything 05:17 TG: its so cool getting hella chumped by your coquettish damn riddles all the time 05:18 TG: i dont know why i believe anything you say im like the grand marshal of gross chumpage 05:18 TG: waving around my faggoty chumpductor baton 05:18 TG: assitant director of chumpography 05:18 TG: celebrated author ernest chumpingway 05:18 TG: wait weak 05:19 TG: chumpelstiltskin 05:19 TG: uh 05:20 TG: chumpeldipshit 05:20 TG: yeah

Dave’s first ‘hey’ must come from seeing Jade online, and these kids are very responsive to each other, so it probably only takes a few minutes of no reply before Dave realizes that Jade has fallen asleep while logged in. Instead of a quick ‘talk to you tomorrow’, he quickly descends into rambling about how ‘nothing means anything’ due to Jade’s ‘coquettish damn riddles’. Dave’s emotions don’t show on his face but they do show in his hands (p.464) and it’s not surprising that he lets some things slip in the middle of the night, maybe even hinting at some feelings for Jade.

In Dave’s earlier/later conversation with Jade (p.382) he’s a little thrown off by her powers, but overall staying calm. Here, late at night and without someone to bounce off of, he’s getting frustrated and talking himself into a corner, workshopping his own jokes, maybe coming up with a word he’ll reuse in a comic someday. These messages are very stream of consciousness, and only pause when the chump puns stop flowing through his fingers and need due consideration.

05:22 TG: youre asleep y/n? 05:23 TG: a/s/l? 05:23 TG: s = species 05:23 TG: baboon? 05:23 TG: kangaroo rat? 05:23 TG: if kangaroo rat yiff twice plz

By this point in the story we know about Jade’s interest in furries, and that Dave is (ironically?) supportive of this. I’m sure this is an excellent source of humor for Dave and something he jokes about all the time. I could read lots into the ‘s’ being species here, where it’s typically sex (biological sex, used synonymously with gender) only the traditional ‘s’ isn’t something that’s relevant to Dave. I know that he does not intend that meaning and is just making a furry joke. Maybe these are jokes Jade gets annoyed at, and Dave is poking at this in case she’s ignoring his messages and this gets her to respond.

05:27 TG: ok well youre not saying anything so i guess whether youre nonawake or unasleep or whatever youre just not around and im wasting good material 05:27 TG: even worse im wasting a killer fursona here 05:27 TG: like 05:28 TG: i dont know like a wide open v shaped leotard and a fuck ton of body paint 05:28 TG: some like sinewy back arching cirque du soleil looking motherfucker 05:28 TG: always low to the ground gettin a good prowl on 05:28 TG: like i dropped my keys in the dark 05:28 TG: nimblest son of a bitch who had the gumption to glue a nasty pair of latex cat lips to his face 05:28 TG: for a reason that wasnt a joke

Dave goes into his second set of rambling messages, forgetting that he’s annoyed at Jade as he enters full fursona creation mode. He’s ‘wasting a killer fursona’ but he literally can’t stop himself from doing it – he either doesn’t think of saving his ideas until Jade’s around, or he wants to give her something silly to wake up to. The ‘i dont know like’ gives the sense that Dave started typing not knowing how the sentence would end, and also downplays his ideas before he even gets to them. But as he keeps typing he forgets to be so self conscious for a few messages. He has an artistic vision and a great vocabulary and is using all these evocative words – ‘sinewy’, ‘arching’, ‘prowl’, ‘nimblest’ and ‘gumption’ paint a picture of this proud and athletic creature. One that doesn’t resemble a kangaroo rat at all, which is even better. Dave’s imagination is all over the place.

05:32 TG: jade hey 05:32 TG: where are you 05:32 TG: seriously im sitting here tonight with a fucking bag of kibble jacked open on my lap and primed for goddamn bear 05:32 TG: and youre gone

After running out of steam on his fursona, Dave might try turning his attention elsewhere for a few minutes, and then remember that he’s tired, lonely, and didn’t get any validation on his recent jokes. These are the most heartfelt and open his messages get. I don’t think Pesterchum has a ‘delete’ option, otherwise Jade wouldn’t have seen these ones. Dave’s still got furries on the brain here as he goes straight for an animal metaphor, and once again he’s thinking of himself like the victim of Jade’s attacks, and the bear attack is a lot more visceral than just getting chumped by her riddles. There’s a desperation behind Dave trying to restart the conversation with another ‘hey’ followed by a ‘where are you’ that he knows by now won’t be answered. It’s so lonely, but it doesn’t feel selfish; the ‘bag of kibble’ metaphor reads like Dave knows Jade would enjoy this conversation and he wants her to share in this with him.

05:34 TG: btw my name is Akwete Purrmusk 05:34 TG: hardest buttock in the jungle 05:34 TG: tempered steel

Dave has a disease called ‘commitment to the bit’ and it’s terminal. He also needs to make a quick recovery from those actual feelings he expressed above. By this point in the conversation I have a visual in my mind – it’s a big black cloud in Dave’s mind of all the problems he wants to avoidthinking about, and two shining bats at either side marked ‘talk to Jade?’ and ‘kangaroo rat fursona’ and his thoughts are rapidly ping-ponging back and forth between those to avoid all the bad in the middle. So with Jade not responding to his pleas, of course he returns to his two standards of imagination and wordplay, adding to the slightly cursed but incredibly well drawn mental image of Akwete.

05:38 TG: hey yeah just wanted to give you this remix i finished 05:38 TG: here turntechGodhead [TG] sent gardenGnostic [GG] file "explore remix.mp3" at 05:38

It is at this point in the conversation that we learn Dave had a reason for messaging Jade. He probably wanted to drop this into conversation casually like it was no big deal, and might have distracted himself into forgetting about it until now. It’s also possible he wasn’t intending to send it, but was embarrassed by all his ramblings above, so came up with a quick excuse. ‘Explore’ was originally written by Jade (in-universe) and we learn on the next page that it’s not the first time these two have collaborated. Dave is outwardly confident in his musical abilities (p.339) and has the ready-made excuse of irony that makes it easier for him to share his art, protecting him from negative responses. Jade is also reluctant to criticize others, so all those factors combined means Dave is probably comfortable with sending Jade his remix.

05:41 TG: so yeah 05:42 TG: you dont have to respond to any of that btw 05:42 TG: ill probably forget half the shit i said anyway 05:42 TG: talk to you tomorrow

Maybe Dave’s finally heading to bed, or maybe he doesn’t like to leave things hanging (p.445), but he rounds out the conversation and officially signs off. By both taking the pressure off Jade to respond, and claiming that he’ll forget what he said, Dave denies any importance to his own thoughts. Maybe he hopes Jade will scroll to the bottom and see these messages first, and ignore everything from above. He definitely feels ashamed of some or all of what he’s said – whether it’s the general practice of sending a large volume of messages to someone who’s offline, the hints towards his own loneliness, the possibility that his new fursona could be serious and unironic, the remix as the whole basis for conversation, or all of the above. Dave has a tendency for speaking without thinking and then regretting what he’s said, struggling to meet the high standards of self control that his bro has set for him, and since he can’t go back and fix his slips, this is his only way of correcting them.

Dave’s hope to talk to Jade tomorrow wins out over his embarrassment, and softens the couple of messages before it – Dave is dismissing his own thoughts, not the overall idea of talking to Jade. He’s not the type to send a ‘<3’, but it feels implied.

[ihavetoomanyocsdealwithit]

Stone Heart AU: Scar pt I

As much as Yuu tried, she still ended up in trouble in trouble sometimes. Be it with Ace and Deuce, or just running late from acting as Crowley’s unofficial gopher, it was something. The punishments usually weren't that bad though, sometimes even relaxing.  

Like right now, it was a little bit of a trip down memory lane as she scrubbed the statues down on Main Street. It was odd, having the dreams that she did that painted the Great 7 in shadows instead of light, but it felt...right. Balanced.  

A story about a maid who would be going to a ball was the current dream cycle, though she didn’t get the feeling this one was going to relate to any upcoming overblots. While they didn’t happen as often, she occasionally just dreamt of things like this. While there was a lot to ruminate over, like the stepmother and Professor Trien, right now it was just a catchy little song sung by the fairy stuck in her head.  

“Put it together-” The King of Beasts statue wasn’t in bad shape at least, “and what do you got-” Just had to get the moss out of his eye, “Bippity Boppity Boo!” 

The eye blazed green, cracking open with a clap of thunder!  

Yuu fell, catching herself with her hands. Shit! Did she break it? Damnit, she couldn’t afford- 

Wait. It looked fine. Just a wet statue.  

“Maybe I just need to finish this up.” She muttered. “Lack of sleep must be getting to me.”  

The atmosphere had changed, the tension of a storm about to break open. As she finished the King of Beasts, she clocked her progress and ran, feeling like eyes followed her until she turned the corner.  

Malleus must be in a mood, she thinks, watching the dark clouds forming and the green smoke that seems to be spilling out the fence of Ramshackle. It isn’t the right shade of green though, more muted and not as...saturated? The gate creeks ominously and it doesn’t take her long to notice the figure sitting on the porch of Ramshackle.  

He is hunched over, a shawl tossed over his head that was once bright with color and design, now faded to grays, browns and darker reds like blood. His left eye is as green as the Diasomnia mage crystals, clear and unclouded, and the right faded as the green smoke around him. A gnarled staff is gripped in his hands, a gourd tied to the top with a handful of what might be rib bones along with some sort of dried fruit she thinks.  

This isn’t a harmless man, her instincts can say that much, but...he doesn’t feel like a threat. He could be. He’s choosing not to.  

“How can I help you?” Yuu asks, getting a bit closer. “I don’t think I’ve seen you before. Are you a teacher here?”  

He chuckles, making the pointed beard shake, but it’s not cruel. “I suppose that depends on you. I think you are in need of a teacher. And I am in need of a place to stay.” 

“What do I need to learn?”  

“Magic.”  

“Ha!” Yuu can’t help it, barking a laugh. “You are mistaken. I have no magic of my own.” 

“No, cub, you have magic, just not Wonderland magic. You have the Old magic, older even than General Lilia, the same as I. These teachers cannot help you, but I can.”  

He removes the shawl’s hood from his face, revealing a pair of brown lion ears and a mane that puts Yuu’s hair to shame. Even braided in parts to keep it out of his face, the long black hair stretches all the way down to his curved spine. A tail thumps against the dusty steps,  

“Afterall, you freed me, didn’t you?”  

It takes some explaining, a quick meal shared on her dining room table that feels even more rundown than usual with actual royalty sitting down. Thank the Seven that Grim was asleep beforehand, his new Spelldrive practices tiring him out in the evenings.  

“So, are the others...the same? Petrified?”  

“Yes, though you aren’t ready to free us all just yet. I was an accident, correct?” 

She flinches, nodding. “I mean, I guess? Sometimes I have dreams. Alternate tellings of the stories around here it feels like, or added details? Most of the time they follow an Overblot, but this one just felt like a non-threatening one. I don’t have these as often.”  

“Precognition is a dangerous magic, especially with no guiding tools.” 

“I dont know if-” 

“You dreamt of mine, did you not? Leona Kingscholar? The Phantom still was a part of me, drawn from my form and magic.”  

Yuu blinked, shrugging. “I mean, it didn’t stop it.” 

“No, but you were more prepared. You were willing and ready to accept Leona’s trauma and show compassion because you witnessed me make the exact follies and look at how that ended.” he huffed, taking a sip from his water. 

She hadn’t considered that really. It just felt natural, to show them kindness after all of it. But they were alike. Really alike. And the actions Leona had taken paralleled his perfectly.  

“Do you think if somebody had done so with you, you would have listened?” 

“Oh cub!” He laughed, and this one felt harsher. “I would not have. I was far too hardened. But Leona...he will be better.”  

“Well, I better try and at least get a bed ready for you.” She said, taking both of their dishes. “What do I call you though? King of Beasts is a bit of a mouthful.”  

He tilts his head, as if considering. She gets the dishes loaded and leftovers put away before he finally answers.  

“Taka. My Mother’s Son.” he says. “That’s who I wish to be now.”  

Yuu smiles, sticking out her hand.  

“Nice to meet you, Professor Taka! I look forward to learning from you.”  

For just a moment, he sees Simba, and Nuka and Kovu and Vitani. He sees Shenzi, Banzai and Ed. He sees naive and friendly and believes in him, for as little he has to offer, and still finds him worthy.  

He shakes her hand and hangs his stone heart to air out.  

[kuradex]

I wanna know about your art style. How you draw like that??

i tried putting down considerations as well as a (very) general step by step of what i do; if there's anything more specific you want me to explain lmk i guess?

first off, general (self imposed) constraints / purpose of project -- this informs what i draw & how i draw it

i.e. "kuradex" is pretty different from my normal art (my 5 latest rough illustrations):

or my monster hunter charms:

or my pokemon tcg contest illustrations that im not allowed to show until june (😉):

although i've said its for merch purposes, ive started drawing these because i wanted to practice conveying "liveliness" and noticing key features / nuances of a given design, but i didn't want to spend a large amount of time on each one.

so what i came up with is

i want to draw things on-model in terms of proportions ( + take note of weight / tapering of shapes / etc )

no backgrounds & minimal "props"

experiment with / practice line/texture/color/flow/rhythm/etc

spend <1 hr on each pokemon on average (this is a bit more difficult for me to track, but for example, the cyndaquil line took me less than 42min to color, combined, and means at some point in time instead of focusing on cleaning up the art as much as i can, i stop after cleaning up most of it)

that said, the pose & the rhythm/flow of lines are key in conveying liveliness, and if i have a concept in mind i usually end up going with it, but i may go thru a few if i dont.

i consider pokemon origin / lore or a key point in its design, and if i'm particularly stuck, i try looking up pokemon card illustrations for inspiration. (i noticed the research i do is essentially a truncated version of how Atsushi Furusawa does research before doing an illustration.

(& even despite all this i do get stuck sometimes and don't exactly understand a pokemon and just opt for "as cute or cool as i can make it i guess?", but i think it's part of the process...?) (theoretically things that are A Shape should be really easy to draw but with what i want to practice in perspective i find them difficult...)

this is from my latest paid req but these are my first sketches of chesnaught -- i was thinking of how one of its inspirations is a warrior / tanker from RPGs, so i drew a pose where it's shielding its face.

i do another pass and take note of details.

in general i draw overlapping shapes and erase (it's a bit visible on one of the spikes)

because i opt for quickness i start coloring at this point -- i just use a colored "color burn" sketch layer for the "lineart" & colorpick official art & lay down messy flats & set the color layer to 60%

60% multiply layer for shadows. i tend to use both hard and soft brushes

for bigger projects i would use 2-3 shadow layers to create more "layered" shadows

here i use overlay layer (60%). this is just throwing colors at it and seeing what works and doesn't work. i personally prefer to throw red under the eye and a yellow or blue near the top of the head. this is mostly done with a soft brush

before this point, everything is under the rough lines, but now i start drawing/painting over it

i just color pick the colors that have been laid down from the previous steps and clean up / render textures (making the green on its arms look fuzzy) / fixing anything that i forgot or looks too off (i.e. the spike on its shoulder and the way the tail curves)

I could potentially keep cleaning this up, but this is where i usually stop 🫡

[angelthefandomobsessed]

A Potion for a Golden Afternoon - Floyd x Riddle - Chapter 2

A second chapter nearly double the length of the first. I hope you enjoy! (Read the first chapter here)

ஓ๑♡♡๑ஓ

“Floyd!?” Riddle exclaimed, looking at the moray that had just appeared in the room. “What happened!?”

“Goldfishie..?” Floyd questioned, wide eyes focusing on Riddle. “What’re you doing here?”

“Nevermind that, you’re covered in blood!”

Floyd was, in fact, dripping with blood. It had worked its way into his suit, and was smudged around his face.

“Yeah, no duh,” Floyd said, lifting up his red-stained gloves. “This sorta thing happens all the time. It’s not like it’s my blood or anything, so it’s fine!”

Riddle whipped his head back to Azul. “Explain.”

ஓ๑♡♡๑ஓ

(Link to AO3: A Potion for a Golden Afternoon - Angel_Ashido - Twisted-Wonderland (Video Game) [Archive of Our Own])

(Full chapter under the cut)

Chapter 2:

The Shaftlands were far colder than the Queendom of Roses, but Riddle welcomed the fresh air. What was to be his new place of employment sat in the middle of Maquillaville’s vast entertainment district, nestled between five-star hotels, gourmet restaurants, and star-studded theatres.

Azul hadn’t wasted any time in generating notoriety for himself. Divine Grotto was the place to be, judging by the sprawling line waiting to get in.

No, not waiting - hoping.

As far as the man himself, Azul appeared to have bulked up ever so slightly, painting a picture of vivacious health. The swooping cascade of his hair had been allowed to grow around an inch longer, so that it tickled the bottom of his neck. Riddle had no doubt that these new aspects of Azul were, somehow, calculated.

His wardrobe appeared to be mostly black, with accents of purple and gold. From his wide-brimmed hat, to the seashell shaped 24-carat gold hatpin that kept it in place, he was at once a bohemian and a businessman. A crafted persona that allowed him to seamlessly recline into Maquillaville’s upper echelons.

When Riddle had arrived at what was practically his doorstep, Azul had swept out his arms and set his bouncers at ease.

“Riddle, it’s so wonderful to see you!” When Azul floated over to Riddle, his footsteps were as smooth as though he were swimming. The passage of time had been kind to his motor skills, something that Azul had always seemed to struggle with. “It’s been far too long.”

The red-head in question eyed the bouncers, two beastmen who doubled his height. “Indeed, it has been.”

“Oh, don’t mind them,” Azul reassured him. “Come in, come in - allow me to give you the grand tour.”

Riddle followed Azul through the back door of the club and was surrounded by a luscious jazz tune. The establishment was both expensive and elegant, with every detail seeming to sing Azul Ashengrotto.

It was an impressive sight. Of course, Riddle would expect no less from Azul.

The pair weaved through a staff only door and through a narrow corridor. A corridor with no less than four security cameras across its roughly twenty-meter length.

Suspicious, Riddle thought to himself, looking up at them.

Azul noticed that Riddle was beginning to fall behind and turned to him with a well-practiced smile. “Yes, well, good security is of the utmost importance to me. Each camera is linked to a different security company, ensuring that if one goes down, the others remain active.”

“I take it that at least one of these goes back to S.T.Y.X?” Riddle guessed.

For a split second, Azul’s shoulders straightened, and he seemed far more like his old self. 

He let out an airy laugh and made a visible effort to relax once more. “You say the strangest things, Riddle.”

It was somewhat reassuring to know that Riddle could still rattle the so-called merchant from the depths. “How has Idia been? I assume that you are still in contact?”

“What a funny assumption to make,” Azul said. “What makes you think that?”

“Your bracelet. It has a die on it. One of those many-sided ones. You and Idia spent many hours playing board games together, therefore, it must be a gift from him. Or, a part of a set,” Riddle reasoned.

“What if I had made a new board game related acquaintance?” Azul asked. “Is that so hard to believe?”

“That could be the case. But, knowing you, giving up contact with the heir to S.T.Y.X would be unthinkable.”

“Still sharp as ever, I see.” They reached a door, which Riddle followed Azul through. “I suppose I must admit defeat. Yes, I am still in contact with Idia. He is… Well. He is Idia. Going by that metric, he is doing fine.”

“I’m glad to hear that.” Riddle meant that; knowing that his fellow housewarden had gone on to find some level of contentment was a good thing.

They had arrived at what appeared to be an office space. It was a room big enough to fit a medium-sized boat, with a sitting area as well as a wide, neat desk. Striped wallpaper ran the length of three walls, while the fourth was made of glass.

Riddle stepped forward and looked down, seeing a horde of people mingling. Some were dancing, while others were seated and enthralled by their conversational partners. A sound-proofing spell had been worked through the office - in spite of the swinging revelry downstairs, he could have heard a pin-drop.

“Idia confessed to me that he, on occasion, suffers from nightmares about you,” Azul told Riddle after he had locked the door.

“Really? Why is that?”

Azul chuckled at Riddle’s shock. “He was quite frightened of you, during our school years. You had a reputation for your strictness, after all.”

Riddle could not argue with that. 

The chaise-longue that Riddle sank into was an endless black, with clear gemstones studding the back of it. Would this be his life now? A single rose in the dark depths of the ocean, vibrant amidst the shadows. 

Easy prey for the creatures that dwell below.

With a wave of his cane, a tea set appeared on the table before them. Azul set about pouring a cup for each of them before sitting next to Riddle, one leg crossed over the other. 

“Now then, shall we get down to business?” he asked.

“Yes, of course.”

“Excellent.” Azul laced his gloved fingers together. “I won’t intrude upon the details that brought you here, though I must admit I am very curious as to what they may be. Ultimately, I do not believe that your circumstances change much. Ah, but before we continue… You have a medical mage licence, yes?”

Riddle tried to keep his growing suspicions from showing in his expression. “Yes, I do. I am a qualified doctor, though I have also studied law, to an extent.”

“Of course.” Azul’s smile deepened. “I had no doubts that you would go on to achieve great things, Riddle Rosehearts. However, the position that I would place you in is somewhat… unorthodox, with that in mind.”

Unorthodox? Riddle was unsure what to make of that. “How so?”

“Due to your experience as the housewarden of Heartslabyul, as well as your personal qualities, I believe you to be uniquely qualified as an events coordinator.”

An event coordinator? That was… not what Riddle had in mind at all. It didn’t involve back-alley surgeries or brewing illegal potions.

“However, should the need ever arise, I would trust you to be available in other aspects. Having a skilled medical mage around comes with its uses, after all. It is a small price to pay for security, no?”

There it was. Back-alley surgeries were still on the table.

Had Azul implied such a thing years ago, Riddle would have stormed out of the room. Perhaps he would have set the flower arrangement on the table ablaze.

“So long as you afford me deniability against any… ill-mannered affairs, I will make myself useful to you.”

Riddle had changed. He averted his eyes so that he didn’t have to see the bewildered look on Azul’s face.

“I can’t go back there,” Riddle admitted, before Azul could question his willingness to turn a blind eye. “And if I have to spend one more minute in a hospital, I fear I may burn it to the ground.”

“I see,” Azul said, though Riddle suspected that he did not. “Now I feel even more curious…”

It was a subject best avoided. “What would acting as an ‘events coordinator’ entail?”

Azul took a sip of his tea before explaining, “Divine Grotto hosts many esteemed guests. We have a separate area dedicated to private functions for such guests. As the resident event coordinator, you would be required to oversee these functions, as well as assist in their planning. Reaching out to musicians, acquiring menu preferences, finalising invites, and such. I would train you personally, for I require someone who can meet my rigorous standards.”

“And you believe me to be that person?”

“I know you to be that person, Riddle. You run a tight ship - I need more capable individuals such as yourself on my payroll. Speaking of payroll… I would offer you accommodation, as well as a generous wage.”

“That’s… very kind of you.”

It was very kind of Azul. To offer an untrained walk-in such an important position was far from a savvy move. Which meant that Azul must have valued Riddle’s other skills above all else.

Unless there was another, hidden reason.

“If I found that the arrangement no longer suited me, would I be able to terminate my employment here?” Riddle asked.

“Naturally. We don’t hold anybody here against their will, Riddle.”

The last time he had heard that, Ace and Deuce were five percent sea anemone by volume.

“I assume that there’s a contract involved?”

“There would be. You’re welcome to take some time and perform a thorough reading of it.”

It didn’t seem as though Azul was trying to trick him. He was bending over backwards to ensure that Riddle was accommodated. Azul was a smoothtalker by trade, but Riddle had always been able to see through his prettified words.

“I will be certain to,” Riddle replied. “It shouldn’t take me too long… Unless it’s a mighty tome of a thing?”

“No, not at all, it’s just a few pages, plus the usual.”

‘A few pages plus the usual’ sounded like more than a few pages.

Azul stood and sauntered over to a drawer. He pulled out a contract, not the scroll that Riddle had been expecting, but rather a small stack of papers held together by a staple.

“I was expecting something a little more… magical,” Riddle admitted as Azul handed it to him.

Azul gave a short flick of his head in place of a shrug. “Those are saved for special occasions. Deals with a little more… gravitas, shall we say?”

Deals with more at stake, in other words.

Riddle began his initial scan of the paperwork, but was interrupted by a loud, groaning sort of noise. Something that sounded a lot like metal on metal.

“What is that?” Riddle asked, looking towards its source.

It sounded as though it was coming from the space behind Azul’s desk.

“It’s nothing to concern yourself with!” Azul fired. “Perfectly typical of the space!”

The sound grew louder and quicker, until the wallpaper behind Azul’s desk seemed to peel into itself without ripping. It was as though the wallpaper itself was a ghost doing gymnastics - a confusing sight for Riddle, who was beginning to feel the exhaustion of his journey.

Seeming to break through the fabric of reality, a heavy metal door swung through the wall.

“I’m finished, Azul… Blegh, it smells so gross,” whined a voice.

A voice that sent shivers dancing down Riddle’s back.

“Floyd!?” Riddle exclaimed, looking at the moray that had just appeared in the room. “What happened!?”

“Goldfishie..?” Floyd questioned, wide eyes focusing on Riddle. “What’re you doing here?”

“Nevermind that, you’re covered in blood!”

Floyd was, in fact, dripping with blood. It had worked its way into his suit, and was smudged around his face.

“Yeah, no duh,” Floyd said, lifting up his red-stained gloves. “This sorta thing happens all the time. It’s not like it’s my blood or anything, so it’s fine!”

Riddle whipped his head back to Azul. “Explain.”

Azul sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.“Explaining such a thing is.. Complicated.”

“No it’s not,” Floyd observed, unhelpfully. “I beat a guy up, ‘cause it’s my job.”

“Floyd! You can’t just tell people that!” Azul chastised.

“Not like it’s a big deal. If goldfishie’s here, then it means that he’s one of us, right?”

“He hasn’t signed the contract yet, Floyd.”

Riddle looked down at the contract once more. “I take it this is what, ‘The employee will not divulge company information due to the sensitive nature of its clients,’ was alluding to?”

“Among other things… yes.”

“Chill out, Azul, if he rats me out, I’ll just get to squeeze him real hard.” Floyd’s unwavering gaze turned vicious. “That would be fun… Doncha think?”

“That won’t be necessary. I have no intention of doing something like that. For this to be beneficial to me, this business must continue to operate,” Riddle surmised. “Please give me some time to finish reading the contract.”

“Seriously? Aren’t you gonna yell at me?” Floyd asked, his threatening stare morphing to a pout. “That’s no fun…”

“Our dear friend Riddle has found himself down on his luck,” Azul explained. “So much so that he’s willing to set aside his pride. Be kind to him, Floyd. Now, why don’t you head back down and shower?”

“Whaaaat? But that’s no fair, I only just got here!”

“You’re getting the carpet dirty, Floyd.”

Floyd huffed and waved his magical pen. In a flash, the blood was gone, as though it had never been there in the first place. Riddle glanced over to him, and realised that, without the blood drawing away attention, he was much the same, except his hair had grown long enough to be contained as a small ponytail.

Azul scoffed. “Why couldn’t you have done that sooner?”

“Forgot.”

“Could you two please be quiet?” Riddle asked, trying not to sound too annoyed. “You’re making it difficult to concentrate.”

“My apologies. Allow me to step aside for a moment. Floyd, come along.”

Floyd attempted to protest, but was coaxed out of the office by Azul. Finally, Riddle could focus. In between sips of his now cold tea, he read the document once, then twice, and then a third and final time.

Everything appeared to be in order. His soul would remain his own, and the benefits were almost too good to be true. The only real downside was that working with Azul could very well get Riddle killed.

That was a risk he was willing to take. Dying was not the worst thing in the world, though, truth be told, he would rather avoid it.

Riddle sat and observed the patrons of Divine Grotto. The large window framed them as fish in a tank, placed there solely for the amusement of their overseer. Riddle wasn’t good enough to walk amongst them, let alone conduct such a well-oiled machine.

Azul seemed to think that he was, though. Whether that was worth anything was still to be discovered.

When Azul returned to the room, Riddle was more than glad. Being left alone with his thoughts had stopped being comfortable a long time ago.

“I am willing to accept the terms of this contract,” Riddle announced.

Floyd slinked into the room with an easygoing grin plastered across his face. “Really? Yay~ You get to work with me now!”

Before Riddle could so much as blink, Floyd had charged toward him and tackled him into a hug.

“Floyd! Stop that at once. Control yourself!” Azul yelled, trying to wrangle some order back into the situation.

Riddle’s limbs froze. He couldn’t push Floyd off. Floyd was huge, therefore difficult to push off, but Riddle couldn’t bring himself to even try to.

This is… warm, Riddle realised amidst the shock. It feels like… a warm summer’s day.

How long had it been since he had felt like that? Had he ever? Riddle’s life was a feverish blur. Bleak, hollow days. Thunderstorms with nowhere to hide. And then, without warning, sunrays, pure and golden, caressing him with their fervour. Whenever he acclimatised to that blistering heat, it would vanish, returning him to the cold, only worse. Worse because he knew what it meant to be warm - what he was missing.

It was only when he felt Floyd’s body tense around him that Riddle realised he was crying.

“Goldfishie…” Floyd murmured, too close to his ear. Far too close.

He pulled back. Through his tears, Riddle could see a worried sort of look on Floyd’s face, like he had just broken a vase. It didn’t suit him one bit.

“It’s not your fault,” Riddle choked. “I… I’m happy.”

Was he?

Riddle didn’t know. It was an easy thing to say. The right thing, judging by the way Floyd slumped back into his usual self.

“You shouldn’t cry if you’re happy,” he said. “You should dance or shout or somethin’.”

“And you shouldn’t dive bomb people, Floyd,” Azul retorted on Riddle’s behalf.

“It’s… fine. I’m alright,” Riddle managed, reigning the tears back in. “As I was saying, I am willing to take the position.”

“Very good,” Azul said, more than happy to breeze past what had just occurred. “Let me fetch you a pen.”

“I have a pen already.” 

‘A magical one’, Riddle didn’t feel the need to voice.

Azul smiled. “Oh, but you’ve never truly used a pen until you’ve brandished one of these. Top of the line fountain pens, the smoothest writers I’ve ever had the joy of holding. The very word ‘luxury’ given form.”

A pen was a pen, but Riddle wasn’t about to hurt his new employer’s feelings.

“Please, enlighten me,” Riddle invited.

Floyd met his eyes with an almost conspiratorial look. The kind of look that seemed exclusive to him and Jade.

“Azul loooooves those pens,” Floyd whispered, though everyone in the room could hear him. “He was suuuuper mad when I broke one of them.”

“Dare I ask how you broke it?”

“I was using them to stage a pen-play. That pen died in the finale, so it got snapped in half.”

Only the most nonsensical answers from Floyd, Riddle was reminded.

Azul returned with a sleek, black pen. “Mad is an understatement. I was positively livid.”

“It was a good play, though.”

“Shockingly coherent, according to Jade.”

“Where is Jade?” Riddle asked, interrupting their revelry.

Floyd was quick to answer, “Kitchen, as usual.”

“An… actual kitchen?”

“Yeah?” Floyd answered. Amusement danced across his eyes. “What other kinds of kitchens are there?”

“The kinds that brew illicit potions?” Azul guessed. “Must you suspect us so, Riddle?”

That wasn’t a denial that they participated in such activities…

Azul handed Riddle the pen. Signing the contract felt far simpler than it should have. He just wrote his name on the line. 

Riddle Rosehearts.

Just like that.

“Wonderful,” Azul said, picking up the contract. “Welcome to the family, Riddle.”

[sunoorintarou]

Catharsis: Vivid

Phos!Reader x (Platonic) Nobara Kugisaki

Warnings: Regret, self blaming, general angst, usual Catharsis warnings

Notes: this was supposed to be smthn cute with Phos and Nobara but ig things happen💀

Nobara's eyes were trained on the bottle of nail polish on her desk. A bottle of dark blue.

She picked up the nail polish, beginning to paint her nails. Unwanted memories began to cloud her vision, memories she could never forget no matter how hard she tried. Memories of you.

"But I don't like nail polish. It smells weird." You had frowned, shaking your head.

It was late at night, and you and Nobara had decided to have a sleepover in her room, gossiping and giggling the entire night thus far.

You had offhandedly mentioned your inexperience with many things, like makeup and nail polish, immediately causing Nobara to want to change that.

"I picked this colour out just for you, though." Nobara pouted, holding a bottle of dark blue polish. The colour perfectly contrasting the bright red she usually wore.

You saw the hope in her eyes, will going weak before nodding, holding your hand out to her.

Nobara immediately perked up, smiling brightly as she began painting your nails.

"There, there! Look how pretty!" She smiled, showing you your perfectly painted and manicured nails.

You glanced from them to her bright face, smiling softly. "Yeah, I guess they're not all that bad."

"Let's take a picture, they look pretty together!"

Nobara paused, setting the bottle of blue nail polish down, watching as it dried.

After that, it was tradition for you to come back to her whenever they chipped or peeled for her to redo them, letting her experiment with different styles and shapes.

Almond shaped with plain deep blue nail polish was your favourite, and she had agreed they suited you the best.

Nobara paused, eyes widening as she looked at her own nails. Almond shaped with deep blue nail polish. A stark contrast to her usual square shaped with shiny red polish and occasional gold designs.

She stood up, walking to her cupboard as she opened it, grabbing her signature bottle of red nail polish. The last time she had gotten one was more than a month ago. She remembered the day vividly. You had chosen that one for her, after all.

The bottle was still full.

She looked over at the blue polish, realising it was the one you had always worn. Her eyes went wide.

It was half empty.

Nobara sighed, putting the red nail polish away and going back to her chair, bringing her knees up to meet her chest as she examined her nails.

She wondered if you were still wearing the same nail polish. Whether you still wore the same perfume she had picked out for you. If you thought of her when you felt sad on those long nights after longer days.

If you remember how she'd stayed in your room with you, holding you close as you cried in her arms. Remember how you'd spilled the beginnings of your true feelings to her and made her swear she'd never tell anyone.

Perhaps if she'd been faster, if she'd questioned you more, if she'd spent more time with you, spoke with you more, held you more. Perhaps you'd still be with her.

After that night, however, she began to doubt. Not you, but herself.

Just how much did she really know about you?

She knew your name, your age, that you liked banana milk, that your favourite Sanrio character was Cinamoroll. She knew you liked sleeping and loved your friends. But that was just material, physical.

Your family, your friends, your life before you came here, your goals, your dreams, your passions, your hobbies. Did you ever have pets? Have you ever had a boyfriend? Did you even want a boyfriend? Marriage? Kids? A family?

Your childhood, where you were from, hell, Nobara didn't even know your surname.

Did she ever, for a moment, really know you?

Were your smiles real? Your laughter? The way you felt about everyone was genuine. That was something she didn't doubt for a second. The way you cared about everyone, making sure no one got left behind, making sure no one ever felt alone.

How was it that you were the one that got left behind first? The one who felt the most alone?

How long had the storm in you brewed til you could no longer ignore it?

Just what had happened? Was it Yukio? Just Yukio? Something told her it was more than that. So what was it?

What was so horrible and twisted, settling under your skin, making it itch and crawl, causing you to scratch at it, scarring your skin, causing you to destroy yourself?

Nobara sighed. Asking herself these questions wouldn't bring you back. No what if or should have would.

Instead, all she could do was lament and pray that in another life, she'd never let you leave. In this life, however, she swore she'd find you and try to atone for her sins. If nothing else, she just wanted you to be happy, even if it was without her.

[brokenstarwishes]

Colors of the Shadows

At request of Dela- here's a little snippet from whats going on while an unconcious birb and sadness are out of comission in a certain rp thread~ TW for mentions of self-harm, self-destruction, and general self-talk.

If yall want more of these tidbits that talk more about Sol, Dela, and their universe I guess let us know???

Mentions of a handful of folks from a server we're in, including @novafollowstheuniverse

Well…Ripping the whole soul out of your chest wasn't what you expected. You couldn't get up even if you wanted to- both your body and the soul itself being so weak, so exhausted after the last month or so of events both in the sketchbook and in general. But that doesn't mean you were entirely unconscious. Just…somewhere else. Somewhere where life and death meet, somewhere where the whispers of the silent can become heard once more. Somewhere…where you could both talk, freely.

"Stars, that hurt." You groaned, a hand on what you…figure was your forehead. Your memories were returning, slowly, just enough for you to know that you were definitely in trouble later. You were dizzy- Stars above were you dizzy- but you could just about make out the…area?…you were in. You weren't…quite sure where you were. Shades of all types danced across your vision, yet formed no shapes- just endless amounts of…colors. It made your head hurt. Just as you were about to get up to question what had truly happened, another groan caught you off guard- jolting a little before turning towards the voice. ( "You aren't the one who had to tear your blinding body apart, shut it." ) Delaisser… Your saddness that had formed more recently from your newer traumas, of scars that still hadn't fully healed- and eventually did take over. Right… in its own grief, it had torn you out of your body. "A little dramatic, aren't we?" That earned you a pointed glare from the shadow, causing a little snicker from your form. In the colored light, you could see it for what it truly was… And…Stars- they looked like a little kid. Hunched over, with half of your soul… baby blue, just a few shades muted. Scars were already starting to form in the tears it had created across his chest, painted a deep red as a result of the broken Wishcraft dagger that had been used. Half…of you.

You…slowly sat down next to them. This wasn't the first time confronting yourself- so this time you weren't nearly as frantic, nearly as horrified. You look down to yourself- half shaded in, with your own half of a soul- bright baby blue. You barely looked present- just barely clinging on to what you had left. You figured if Dela had spent any longer in your body…if you hadn't woken up, you would've been lost entirely. As Delaisser sat up themselves, you glance back over to them…Its bright eyes staring into your softer ones. They looked scared…so scared, so nervous. One of you needed to talk first…so…you guess…

"Guess we know what that knife felt like for It, huh?" You joked, a half smile on your face. You felt the swift bap on your head, causing a laugh. ( "That's not funny, Stars!! You're really messed up, you know that?!" ) "I know…" You sigh, running a hand over your face. Or…lack thereof? You couldn't tell, your brain just outright would not process shapes…let alone features. Dela watched your movement and looked away itself. ( "What was the point of going through all of this again?" ) They asked you, looking at what you figured was the floor. You pause at that…After all, what could you even say to that? "… I guess I just…didn't want to lose anyone else. I lost my partners, my family, my friends, so many times… I couldn't bear to deal with it again- to the point I was willing to throw everything away…just to keep it from happening." You eventually respond, sheepishly. ( "Not that I was much help with that…" ) It admitted, with just as much pensiveness. You laid down, staring at the infinite everything. In this moment- you were…apart of it all. You...guess you had time to kill. Silence fell between you both, for a short time, before you decided to speak again. "Can I ask you something, Del? Can....Can I call you Del?" ( "Not that it's going to matter much, but sure." ) "...What was the point of all of this? The impulsive thoughts, the violent urges, the self loathing-- all of it?" You turned your head slightly, looking at your shadow from the corner of your eye. It seemed to shift a little in discomfort. ( "...I was just saying what you were saying to yourself. Over, and over, and over again. What you wanted to do, over and over again. It's not my fault you have no sense of emotional regulation, Solaris." ) "I-" You pout a little at that last remark, but decide to let it slide for the time being. Besides...it had a point. Everything in Dormont, everything before, and even now- you still didn't know how to contain all your intense emotions without them just...exploding out of you inevitably! "...You're right... I don't. And it ends up often hurting those I want to protect. Even when I have good intentions, or when I think I'm doing things for their benefit- it often just...hurts them." ( "Pyxis, Mal, Nova, Ben, Yourself... You've hurt alot of people- not just by your actions, but by your own assumptions of how they percieve you and how you assume they'll behave." ) You...couldn't argue with that. Tears well up in your eyes, but...you don't cry. You're not even sure if you could, anymore. ( "You have to ask yourself; does that make you a monster? Or does that make you someone who...just needs someone who will work with them?" ) You sat up a little at that. What...what exactly did it mean by that? As if reading your mind, Dela continues. ( "What happened in the aftermath of your huge meltdown in the House? Your family was there for you- even if they were still irritated with you. They understood you aren't a lost cause- just someone who needs time and help. What happened when Mal saw you try to off yourself for the first time? They still eventually forgave you...and even felt guilty themselves about the whole ordeal." ) You listened to it explain, looking away... those were, in fact, things you had done- whether you liked it or not. You still felt the sting of the dagger, felt the exhaustion of all the craft you used- though both could be also be due from practically pulling the same damned stunt a second time... and this time, you weren't sure if you would get a second chance to make it right.

( "My point is- even when you have been at your worst...the people who do truly care about you WOULD be there for you, if you're willing to LET THEM actually be there for you." ) "But...I don't understand... WHY?! I've done so many bad things- things that most people would HATE ME for doing..." ( "Does it matter?" ) "Huh?" ( "Does it really, truly matter why?" ) "Well, yeah but-" ( "They're still going to care about you whether or not you know why they do. It's not going to change how they act- and by doing worse and worse things to try and get that sort of reaction you expect from them you'll just end up pushing them away!" ) "..." ( "Is that what you want?! To be alone again, after everything you went through to get here!?" ) "...No..." You sigh, and admit defeat in that regard. You lay back down, staring at the sky. The colors...they were all so pretty... "But... Don't I deserve it?" ( "Do you?" ) "Stars above, could you give a straight answer for once?!" ( "I'm you, you know the answer to that." ) You groan as Dela lets out a cheeky little laugh. You could just make out the cat-like grin on their features, although it was all blurry- like the watercolor pages of Her sketchbook.

"Isn't this supposed to normally go the opposite way?" You remark, after a beat. Dela gives another laugh- it's a bit rougher than yours, hoarse and exhausted- before it responds. ( "Probably. But I'm also apart of you. Part of you that wants to help..." ) "Yeah, good job at that." ( "Your impulse control is garbage!" ) It pouts at that, crossing its arms (you think) and looking away. You laugh again, and sigh. "...Is any of this going to matter? I mean... you kinda did destroy my body- better or worse. Which, THANKS by the way." ( "Hey it's not my fault you were basically beating on my chest from the inside out! And....And..." ) For the first time since you two had started talking, it didn't seem to have an answer. After a good moment of hesitation, it sighs. ( "...I don't know. That place wasn't exactly relegated by any of the Aspects. It's entirely possible that by doing that we're..." ) You both fall silent.

( "I do get the feeling Nova wouldn't let us die so easily, though..." ) Dela reminds you, and you give a soft laugh and a small nod. "Let's hope she has any idea what she's doing..."

( "You didn't answer your own question, by the way." ) You...pause. You had forgotten the question already, hadn't you? You look away sheepishly, and Dela laughs. ( "Do you deserve to suffer for your actions? Do you deserve to be alone again after all you've done?" ) You sat there for a moment. You...didn't know the answer to that. You wanted to say yes, of course, but that was also because it was you. So...what would Mirabelle say? What would Odile say? What would... What would Isabeau say?

"...No one deserves to suffer the same way I put myself through. Actions do need to have consequences, yes, and that's...that's something I believe in... but the way I go about it is... ineffective at best." ( "-And self destructive at worst." ) Dela finished for you, nodding in agreement. ( "I think its from one of your memories...one of the ones thats faded away, anyway. Something with your family...but you tend to push 'punishment' way past the point of being equal to the crime you've supposedly comitted. It's...it's hurting you, and everyone you care about." ) "But...but what can I even DO about that?!" You remark, frustrated, hiding your head in your hands, "What can I DO about these feelings that are too much- the need to be punished in a way that FEELS equal to what I deserve?! Why can't I just-!?" You were tearing up again, and you...simply sigh. You can't feel the way the tears roll down your cheeks.

"Why can't I just let myself be happy?!"

For a good few minutes, there was silence...after all, what could another half of you say that you didn't already know? Dela thought it over for that time, clearly deep in thought, before eventually giving a shrug. ( "If you're struggling with regulating your self-destructive tendencies...struggling with the need for an equal- fitting- punishment, why not ask those around you? Or do something you actively know is healthy but avoid?" ) "Huh?" ( "I'm not saying shove all of our mental health responsibilities onto them, but maybe asking around for a few ideas might...help. Or at least bring some insight into someone who is more emotionally regulated." ) You...thought about that. And gave a small nod...at the very least- it was worth a shot. More than what you have been doing before.

( "As for why you can't let yourself be happy... It all comes down to a sense of confidence, Solaris. I don't... WE don't know what it is...but something growing up made us believe that we'll always be responsible for the things happening around us. Isn't it time you let that go?... Let the past go, so that you can face the brighter future?" ) "It's....It's not that simple-" ( "I know... Stars, I know it's not easy. But it's gotta be better than not trying at all--" ) "I AM TRYING!" You exclaimed in frustration, barely feeling the little drips onto your leg, "I've BEEN TRYING to become a better person and STARS ABOVE IT'S SO EXHAUSTING! I try to be the better person, to be the person that can actually HELP people- but people only ever just--!! JUST--!!!" You yell into your hands, just to get the frustration out of your body. Your body- or soul, in this state?- was glowing that bright red color... The same color as broken wishcraft. So...was this anger, then? You'd think about it later- if there even was a 'later' to go to. You wanted to kick SOMETHING, but there was...NOTHING in this weird colored void. So you settled for angrily punching the air a few good times until the glow settled back down. Dela watched your tantrum for a good moment, before sighing and looking down. ( "I... I know you've been trying. The road to getting better isn't linear, remember? Odile told you as much... But, you can't give up yet- yeah? Even just knowing how to move forward is better than not moving forward at all. Eventually, it'll become easier...eventually, it'll become second nature to you. To us." ) "...Why are you helping me, Dels?" You ask, rubbing some of the wetness off your face- tastes like salt?? Why are you able to taste from your hand-- nevermind. ( "Because I don't want to be a monster. Just like you. I just...want to protect us. Protect you, if you'll let me. I just want to move forward. But that's something you have to choose to do- rather than just saying it and moving on." ) Dela gives a small sigh, and looks outward. ( "That's all I've been ever trying to do. Trying to protect us, by going with what you intrinsically think is right... but, obviously, I've realized you aren't exactly the best teacher in protecting yourself." )"Rude." Though, still true. You fall quiet again, for a moment, scooting a bit closer to lean towards the shadow. They sigh, and put a vague motion of their arm over your shoulder in comfort. Weirdly, it felt nice...not quite warm, like the snuggles you were still getting used to- not quite cold like death itself... but something else. Something you couldn't describe. But it was comforting in a way...

If... if this was how things would end for you two, you don't think you'd mind as much. At the very least, you'd finally get some rest.

( "Promise me something, Solaris?" ) You turned to the shadow, it's eye just barely visible even this close. ( "If we get through this... if we somehow don't just keel over entirely... Please. Let others in. Let them help you, let them care about you...let yourself be happy. Please?" ) You...weren't sure if you could promise that. You felt you were still a far ways off from being anywhere close to better...but... "I'll...I'll try. For everyone. I don't know if I can promise to do so for myself, not yet...but I can do so for others sakes. So they won't have to bury a loved one... I can promise that much." Dela smiles at you, and offers a hand. You feel something form as you grab it in turn, a more solid feeling. Your vision seems to finally focus a bit better, just able to makeout Delaisser's face. A small smile, with... way too many teeth for what is definitely a small smile. Your expression softens. You may not be better yet, but you...want to try. You want to try, to make others proud. To make yourself proud. You'll try, and try, and try again if you have to. But you'll do it... if to see that smile. [ You got Memory of Shadows! You'll try to always remember this. ] "If even your own shadow can believe in you, you have to have some hope still, right?"

[templeofvengeance]

[eyes], [hands], [built]

send me a word! || learn all about my muse's physical features!

[eyes]: not just the colour, but the shape, the length of their eyelashes, whether they’re alert or usually half-closed, large or small, sunken into the face, ringed by bags, etc.

... Well--

Khonshu doesn't have eyes by default. Or lashes. Or skin. Just hollow sockets with a black void on the inside. If you asked him (and depending on how bitchy he's feeling) he might say Marc's eyes are his as well, since Marc agreed to be 'his eyes, his hands, his vengeance.' More likely he'd say the moon is his eye, and he can see anything the moonlight touches in one massive panoramic view, the kind of thing only a god's brain is built to be able to process without going nuts.

He did have eyes in his humanoid form and as a falcon, and in both cases they were either black (White sclera, black irises) or solid white. (Maybe they even changed based on the moon phase.) He wore kohl eyeliner in both forms. (Looks a little like how the markings around Ra's eyes look on the falcon form.) As for that secret 'true form,' I mentioned, I've thought of a lot of different designs for his eyes, usually I like the idea that they just look like a void of space with the moon serving as his 'iris.' I imagine he could also do that with his skull if he wanted, looking into his empty sockets and just seeing stars and planets.

[hands]: are they large or small, do they have pianist’s fingers or short stubby ones, do they tend to get sweaty or are they always dry, is the skin rough or delicate, are the nails painted or chewed or sharp, etc.

Finally something he actually has and not something I have to build completely out of headcanons! (As if I don't love doing that.)

So in the comics (and a lot of fanworks), khonshu usually has sharp claws/talons. I go back and forth on it, but in general I stick with the MCU giving him normal hands. It's just a very human detail that I like, and I guess it kind of represents that I play Khon a bit more humanlike. (For better or worse.)

He has large hands relative to a human, but they're in proportion to the rest of his body. Long, skinny fingers, always wrapped like the rest of his body, so no real flesh or nails to speak on. They're not really the hands of a fighter, funnily enough, at least not one that fights by punching. (Khonshu's not the one who does the punching after all, he assigns that job to his Avatars.) Back in Ancient times, I like to imagine he had his nails painted, probably white or gold.

Khonshu actually talks with his hands a good bit, especially around people he likes.

[build]: are they skinny and petite or do they resemble a body builder, are they tall or short or average height, are they lean and wiry, are they overweight, are all of their features proportionate, etc.

Khonshu's build is so awkward. He's clearly given himself some muscle definition (or at least the appearance of flesh and muscle under his wrappings, he doesn't look emaciated) but not a lot. His legs are long, hips and waist are thin, but then his shoulders are super broad. Granted, his cloak looks a lot thicker up on his shoulders so that might be an illusion.

I kind of love it whenever the comics make Khonshu really muscular, especially when he's trying to look scary. Because of course that's what he'd do, wanting to look all buff and powerful as the god of vengeance. MCU Khon can't be bothered with that, it seems. (To be fair, his skull head on a bodybuilder body would look pretty silly.)

I'd give him points for not caring about something shallow just for his image, but Khonshu absolutely cares about being tall. Whether that's casually being 8-10 feet tall, or standing on rooftops, or sitting on cars over people, he loves to tower over people. I might chalk that up to a habit gods just have, used to being literally and metaphorically 'above' humanity. By those standards, Khonshu's actually fairly down-to-earth, willing to stand alongside Marc (or sit in Jake's car) and not just shout at them from above. (I mean he does do that, but. Not exclusively, I'm saying.)

[bluegekk0]

Any tips on how to draw PK's head and horns? I've not been able to figure out a good, consistent way of doing it myself yet.

well, for starters, i significantly simplified their shape. if you compare fpk to canon pk, his design is much rounder, and his horns are considerably shorter. it's mostly a stylistic choice (though the roundness of the horns can be explained in the au), but it makes them much easier to draw + they help to give him a more streamlined look, which fits fpk's lizard aesthetic, although i think it would work with different interpretations as well

this is generally how i approach his headshape. very round and salamander like, with a subtle snout, especially visible from the side. of course, this can vary as i'm very inconsistent when i draw, but this is more or less what i try to go for

his head is very round from the top, and the neck meets the lower jaw at an angle, which allows him to lay his head flat on the ground and gives it a more elongated appearance than what you'd see in a more "human" like neck position

like i said, the horns are probably the biggest deviation from his canon appearance. if you've been following me for a while, you'll notice that i gradually made them shorter and rounder with time, and this is because, well, it's significantly less headache inducing to work with. plus i really like the spade like shape, i think it flows very nicely. when i draw the crown, i start with a dome like shape with lines that are angled towards a singular point, and then just add details + more pronounced tips. if you want a more canon-like look, you can always make them more "wavy" even if you decide to shorten them

different perspectives is something i still struggle with, but i think the design choices i went with make it a little easier. the dome-like shape for the crown becomes a kind of cylinder, and the longer and flatter head also helps with figuring out how he'd look from the bottom (once again, toothless from how to train your dragon comes to the rescue)

the thing that i still haven't figured out is the side horns. i make sure they're visible no matter the angle, but what would they actually look like? i'm afraid this is one of the things that will remain in the "cartoon logic" territory, but i've seen various different interpretations similar to these, so perhaps you'll figure something out. all i know is that, if there's a ridge or a line of spikes on his head, they end somewhere on the lower jaw (they don't go around his entire head). i guess the closest to what i do when i paint would be the smooth ridge, and if i had to choose one option, it would probably be this one. but in most of my art i simply just pretend it's not there haha

i hope this is somewhat helpful. i don't know how to do tutorials and i suck at explaining, but perhaps you'll find some inspiration in these. i tried to sketch out what a more "human like" appearance could look like, with a shorter and flatter face, but it just looks goofy no matter what. sorry haha

[iamfruitie]

Caution and Care Pt. 9

Part 1: Link Prev: Link Next: Link

Quick warning; this does go into discussion of how Mad and Anti were removed from their old pack. Nothing too graphic is described, but there is still talk of some serious topics Main CW is implication of threats of sexual abuse

The Files

The next day, Mad wanted to revisit the library, and Anti couldn’t say no when his mate was bouncing on his feet and purring with his request. Anti also didn’t mind the idea of just sitting and either doing some reading or just relaxing in general since he knew Mad would be happy and safe in a place filled with books.  

Although, despite being told that there was someone who worked in the library, Anti couldn’t help his first reaction being to stand in front of Mad when he saw a man in the room. A glance and sniff told him that the stranger was a beta. His horns were a dark honey brown, with no jewelry or paint. His scent was ink-like, soft yet musky, and a thick cloth was around his eyes. 

“Hello.” The beta greeted, casually slipping a book into place on the shelf. “You must be Anti and Mad.” 

“Yeah,” Anti answered, still keeping his distance and, in turn, keeping Mad away.

“I cannot see you, but I can scent you. You two are scents I haven’t experienced yet. I am aware we had two new omegas join us, so it’s simple logic.” The beta explained. “My name is Host. My main responsibility is to care for the library and sometimes provide my insight to Dark, and, yes, I am also aware of that ironic wording.” There was a light chuckle at the end of his comment. 

“I like him,” Mad said to Anti, smiling, and that was enough to get him to allow Mad to go off on his own. 

Anti sat himself down on one of the couches, able to see Mad and Host from his spot. He really had planned on reading a bit of the book he had brought with him but found himself just watching the two instead, book beside him and ignored. Mad was happy, getting more and more comfortable here, and now had someone who could talk books with him at the level he deserved. He was talking more, looked less scared, smiled, and laughed, and the thought of Mad losing another home caused Anti’s body to itch with anxiety. His throat felt thicker, his face ached while trying to keep it neutral, and his heart raced to the point he feared it would leave his chest. 

When Dark sat next to him, it took Anti a moment to notice, having to yank himself back to the present and look at the alpha. He saw how Dark was looking off at Mad and Host as well, but, with the slight bitterness in his scent, told Anti he was likely looking only at Mad. Anti couldn’t tell what kind of bitterness affected Dark’s scent. Mad could translate. Could tell him if it was fear or anger or nervousness, but all it was to Anti was another rush of worry. 

“You read the files.” Anti guessed.

“I did. Well…Edward is working through them, but I saw the big red stamp on top of them. They’re not subtle, are they?” Dark didn’t look away from Mad yet.

“No…they’re not.” Anti crossed his arms, hugging himself. “Are you going to ask us to leave?”

“Why would I ask you to leave?” Dark finally looked at Anti.

“Cause we’re…” Anti chewed his lip before getting it over with. “Cause we’re infertile.” 

“What does that have to do with you two staying here? The only thing that will change is that Edward and Henrik will work together to make sure that if you two wish to be on suppressants, they will be suitable for you.” 

“Really?” 

“Of course! Why would…” Dark’s voice trailed off, and he sighed. “I have a feeling that information is related to you and Mad’s…” 

“Getting beaten out of our pack?” Anti finished for him, sniffing right after. 

“I still don’t understand.” Dark confessed.

“Look at Mad again. Look at him. He is quite literally the perfect omega for any knothead of an alpha to want. He’s small and soft, and even his horns are curved to make his head the perfect heart shape. He’s also smart as hell with a nose that would make the most trained alpha look like they’re clogged.” Anti sniffed again. “He is perfect, and they wanted him to be pack omega.” 

“They?”

“The alphas, most of them, there was one that was fine, but all the others agreed with the pack alpha that Mad needed to be with him. Imagine an alpha trained from birth with Mad’s abilities? Imagine several. Imagine omegas with Mad’s traits to pass down to even more pups. A pack filled with highly intelligent and skilled members that could take anyone out if they got bored.” 

“You don’t have to talk about this.” Dark noticed how Anti was beginning to shake. 

“But we were already together.” Anti continued as if something was forcing the words out. “Me and Mad were already together, and Mad didn’t want to be with the pack alpha. Mad fucking hated him. A crude, vicious, angry, hothead of a bastard who only saw Mad as a way to strengthen his title rather than someone to love. Saw him as a fucking breeding machine rather than a living person.” Anti dug his nails into his arms. “So Mad told him no, and I told him where to stick his fucked-up idea, so, obviously, they came up with another fucked-up idea.” The laugh that came out was strained. “They said they would allow myself, and Mad to stay a couple, to be able to live peacefully and be provided everything we would need or want. We would both be seen as pack omegas, so we would both get every benefit of the name, and the supposed only trade-off was that Mad was to have the pack alpha’s pups. Bear his pups and allow the other omegas to raise them so we won’t get attached. Five was the magic number. Five pups for a lifetime of peace.”

“Did you tell them no again?” Dark asked, now wondering if getting all of this out would help Anti.

“I did…but Mad said he would do it. He said he was willing to go through that so we could be happy. I-I can’t tell Mad what to do with his body so I let him go. He went to the doctors, and they ran a few tests to make sure everything would be as quick as possible, and that…that was when they found out about Mad.” Anti stared down at the ground. “They panicked, worried there were other omegas with the same trait, so they gathered all of us up and gave us the same test. The others were fine, but I wasn’t. They stamped my file and shoved and locked the two of us into a room while the alphas discussed what to do. No windows, no exit, just a small, dark space while their whispers could just barely be heard through the door.” Anti swallowed and blinked away the tears beginning to form. “They said we were broken. Useless. Wouldn’t be good for anything more than a way for alphas to get their needs out without worries. They were planning horrible things.”

“Anti-”

“-The shit they wanted to do to Mad I-” Anti used the palms of his hands to wipe off his eyes. “-I couldn’t let that happen. So when they opened the doors, I attacked. I lashed out, clawed the fuck out of the pack alpha’s face. I tried to get to his horns, but by that point, I was overwhelmed. I didn’t know there were four of them. I only heard two voices. I thought I could distract them enough for Mad to get away, and I’d figure out what to do with myself after he was safe…but they pinned me down, pinned Mad down. They kicked and spat and cursed, and the pack alpha…” His hand went to his horn, his broken horn. “Mad was spared for the most part. They didn’t want us dead, just damaged enough to be abandoned forever. No one wants a ruined omega.” Anti flinched when there was a touch to his back; glancing over, he saw it was Dark’s hand. He waited. Waited to see what the hand would do, and it threw him off when the touch became a comforting one, gently rubbing small circles and crooning at him. Dark was crooning at him. 

“You’re not ruined, Anti. You’re not broken or useless. You and Mad were brought into this pack, and there will never be any plans to have you two removed unless you choose to leave yourselves. You have a choice. You will always have choices.” Dark saw how Anti stared at him with wide eyes. “I will do everything I can to keep you and Mad safe. Even at the cost of my life, you two will be safe.” 

Safe.

Safe.

He and Mad were safe here. He and Mad were welcomed here. 

The pack alpha here was kind to his people, caring, and wanting the best for all of them.

They were safe.

Anti finally snapped, throwing himself forward and breaking into a fit of sobs into Dark’s chest. 

Dark immediately wrapped his arms around Anti in a hug, feeling the omega gripping the fabric of his blazer, tears already soaking through part of his shirt. 

Mad came over to the couch, confused as to why Anti was crying, but didn’t question when Anti yanked him into the hug. He shifted to get more comfortable and hugged Anti, softly purring to help soothe him. Dark adjusted his arms so he now held both omegas, Anti still crying on him while an arm clung to Mad.

Dark looked down at the two and decided right then and there, that they were his.

And no one would ever take that away from him. 

[fried-cicadas]

Leeching

Maroon heaved as he laid curled against the devil’s door, his claws trying to sink into the wood. He had bitten his fingernails down to the bed in an anxious frenzy, twitching violently. Violet had left him in her bed, giving him nothing but a kiss on the cheek. He had tried to lick any moisture left from her lips, but his skin was tauntingly dry. After an agonizing amount of time of trembling, he had crawled to the door, weeping as he found it wouldn’t open.

It had been a soft spring morning when Maroon had met the woman that would be his undoing. His brother’s fiancée had recommended him a candy shop in a small house in the historical district of their town. Blushing Chocolates was situated in a little home with pale yellow walls and white painted shutters, the purple peonies outside in perfect bloom. He had gone to get their mother some chocolates for Mother’s Day, with no intention of anything more. That was until he saw her.

Violet sat behind the front counter, like a mundane angel. She wore white lace and silk, realistically very impractical for handling chocolate, but she made her elegant clothes seem natural. Her wavy chestnut hair was pinned into a heart-shaped bun, allowing for a full view of her face. As Maroon stepped closer, he saw that underneath the layers of her plump make-up, she had strange purple eyes, like misty lavender fields. They looked at him with curiosity.

“What can I get for you?”

Her voice was deep and rich, a blessing to the ears. Maroon felt his heart being drawn into the mellow lighting and candy displays. He tried to force words just as strong as hers, but instead they came out strangled.

“H-hello…I’m looking to buy some chocolates for my mother.”

Violet smiled, bringing out a card with all the different confections labeled. She leaned over the counter, handing it to Maroon.

“What kinds of things does your mom like?”

The woman batted her eyes at him, making his face go red. The man awkwardly rubbed his head.

“She’s always like fruit, except citruses because she’s allergic…do you…?”

Violet had leaned down, picking out a square-shaped chocolate with a small, red dried fruit. She raised the candy to his face, expecting him to take a bite.

“No thank you, I…” 

Maroon stuttered, looking down at her pouting face, embarrassed. That situation had felt like a dream, like there wasn’t any way it could have possibly been happening. But Violet was unfortunately a very real cruelty of the world. 

“This is just a sample. Just so you can taste the quality of what you’re buying.”

The woman’s eyes watered, seemingly offended by his refusal. His already weak will collapsed, and he took a bite of the confection. It was rich, a mousse of some kind of berry melting in his mouth. Cranberry, if he had to guess. There was a slight bitterness to the chocolate, which made for a more complex flavor. It was the most enchanting thing Maroon had ever eaten. He hadn’t even noticed that he closed his eyes to savor the taste until he opened them again to look at Violet.

“How was it?”

Violet phrased it was a rhetorical question, like she knew the effect of her work. Before Maroon could stop himself, he looked down at the case.

“Could I have a box of sixteen chocolates? Four of these, four of the strawberry, four of the blueberry, and could the last four be pomegranate?”

The confectioner smiled, grabbing a brown box and reaching down for the candies he asked for. Once she had filled all the indentations of the box, she carefully placed the lid on it, before grabbing a roll of golden ribbon to tie it. She placed it to the side, leaning back over the counter, her face close to Maroon’s.

“What do you prefer in your palette?”

The man bit his lip, looking down.

“I’m alright, thank you--”

Violet giggled, causing Maroon’s heart to skip several beats.

“It’s on me. Do you like acidity, like espresso, or sweeter flavors?”

Maroon licked his lips, his mouth unknowingly watering. He considered what he generally ate the rare times he indulged in candies. 

“I like vanilla.”

He watched Violet smile, a little embarrassed by his boring choice.

“Hmm…a classic for a classic man?”

Maroon felt his face heat up, despite having a feeling that the comment was a backhanded compliment. Violet backed away, fishing him the chocolate lure that would have him coming back to her. She handed him the vanilla cream confections in a heart-shaped box, along with the box for his mother. As he paid, he found himself staring at her again. Every part of her seemed delicate, but in a composed way, like the refined beauty of a violin. The wood of the instrument was thin and easy to break, but had a power unique to itself to affect people deeply.

“What’s your name?”

Maroon stared into her lilac eyes, which were twinkling with something he had mistaken for affection at the time.

“Violet.”

Maroon’s mother had loved the chocolates, having consumed them incredibly quickly despite telling herself she would save them. He had a similar issue with the confections Violet had given to him for free as well, barely making it three days. Everything he ate besides them tasted plain in comparison, even red meat like steak seeming dull. Against his better judgment, he had gone to the store to buy a generic bar of dark chocolate, but it had been almost inedible, making him nauseous. It didn’t help that when he went to bed, his dreams were filled with Violet, her face and voice taunting him in his subconscious. He hardly made it a week until he was back at Blushing Chocolates, standing in front of Violet.

He couldn’t remember that second meeting well. He was unusually fidgety, possibly coming off a bit desperate. Violet had offered to let him see her equipment and process, and one thing led to another and then he was laying on her couch, with her on top of him. She had stopped before she had done anything, before saying something strange.

“There are consequences to everything humans do these days. Some actions you take, you won’t be able to undo. That’s why men like you should act with caution, do you think?”

Violet’s face was unbearably close to Maroon’s, her breath hot in the air. It was intoxicating, the frenzy inside him. He wasn’t in the mind to consider her words, specifically ones like “humans”, “caution”, or “unable to undo”. He pulled the woman into a kiss.

Maroon’s eyes widened in shock as he tasted her, her saliva like raw sugar on his tongue. Once he initiated it, Violet didn’t hold back, like she had been waiting for him to make his move. His senses were so overwhelmed that he could see stars in his vision, his fingers tingling with the energy trapped in his body. Retrospectively, Maroon could pinpoint that as the moment where he sold his soul for a kiss. When he had made it back to his house, his clothes a mess and lipstick all over his face, he felt drunk on attention, his brain refusing to fall asleep when he went to bed. He was consumed by a lustful madness that would last for days, plaguing his every thought.

Later that week, however, the fuzzy feeling in Maroon’s limbs was replaced by a certain itchiness, his nails often scratching his skin until it was red. He struggled to find the appetite to eat even the bare minimum to stay afloat. His mouth would water constantly, forcing him to swallow often enough that it would make his throat sore. It became difficult to focus at work, and to relax in his downtime. After another week, he resolved to himself that he needed Violet’s touch if he was going to get anything done.

The third time he went to Violet’s store, he wasn’t in the mood for pleasantries. Violet had laughed at him.

“How impatient. I wonder how long you’re going to last.”

She had still indulged him, making out with him in her kitchen, surrounded by a dizzying smell of chocolate. The hit of her saliva made him simultaneously sick and elated, a taste sweet enough to make his teeth ache. He started coming back to her every week, then every three days, before needing her love every day. He had barely put up any resistance before it was too late. He knew there was something about her that was addicting, making it impossible for him to live without her. He could tell she knew it too, especially when she started to withhold her attention.

It had been a smothering July day, the grass all over town tinged with yellow. Maroon was drenched in sweat as he entered Blushing Chocolates, sighing in relief as the air conditioning hit him. He looked to Violet behind the front counter, who gave him a look of disgust. 

“I hope you don’t expect me to touch you like that.”

Her words had been a slap to the face, Maroon’s mouth hanging open in shock. He expected her to laugh it off, but she continued, her purple eyes narrowed.

“You’re like a fat leech. All you do is take from me. What worth do you have to me?”

Maroon didn’t know what to say. Violet had never indicated she wanted more than he gave her, whatever that had been. 

“Get out of my face, you roach.”

The woman shooed him away, like looking at him caused her pain. He gulped, her attention on him making him uncomfortable. He left without any words, trying to ignore the pain inside him as he drove home. He tried to spend the next week as though he never met her, even as his body began to fall apart. Maroon would tremble constantly, vomiting up almost everything he ate. His arms were raw with scratches, enough so that he would have to wear long sleeves in the sweltering heat to hide it from his family and coworkers. The skin under his eyes became a darker and greener color as he went more and more days without sleep, too on edge to relax his body enough to let him drift off. He was in a genuine hell, one where his own physical form was betraying him.

In the midst of his endless nightmare of consciousness, he began to question what Violet could be. At first he thought that his memory of certain things about the woman was just paranoia or bitterness, but as days crawled agonizingly slowly, Maroon became more and more certain of the truth. A quick search online told him that purple eyes were not natural, which while it was possible Violet just wore colored contacts, in combination with other observations, it seemed less and less likely. He also noticed that the drug-like hit he got from seeing her wasn’t from sex, that only gave him the normal satisfaction from the activity. No, the thing that kept him coming back was her kiss, the sugary treat of her saliva. She had even used the word “human” as if that word didn’t describe her, which she only used while warning him of how things could turn out if he wasn’t careful. A heeding he cut off in order to kiss her, an act of pure stupidity he could do nothing but curse himself about as his body withered away. Violet was not human, she was either something supernatural or demonic that enjoyed making men suffer. 

That revelation did not make enduring the pain living without her caused, nor did it ease the dangerous symptoms Maroon was exhibiting. After the rapid loss of weight and spells of lightheadedness that made him unable to perform at his job, he realized things would not improve. Well, unless he considered the sweet release of death as an improvement. He was going to die unless he went back to Violet, begging her for her kiss of poison, restarting the cycle again. His pride, however tiny it was, wanted to resist, but his brain knew that wouldn’t end well. Maroon imagined his mother and brother coming to his funeral, mourning his death of a quick and mysterious illness. He forced himself into his car, praying his lack of focus wouldn’t cause him to get into an accident in the five minutes it took to get to Blushing Chocolates.

When he walked inside, needing to lean against the wall for support, Violet greeted him with a smug smile, any form of niceties gone. She flipped the open sign to closed, before leading him behind the counter.

“You’re looking pale as a corpse, honey. Probably feeling it too.”

Maroon tried to ignore her, following her up the stairs to where she lived. She pointed to her bedroom, which he’d been in many times before.

“Lay on the bed. I’ll be there in a bit.”

She gave him a small peck on the cheek, before pushing him into the room and slamming the door shut. Maroon stumbled, falling onto his side, barely having the energy to lift his head. But he knew he was at her mercy, and the only chance he had to get what he wanted, what he needed, was to follow her rules. He dragged himself to her bed, collapsing onto her lilac, silk sheets. His body twitches constantly, his stomach crying for help. He was a pathetic worm, a broken doll on his deathbed due to the consequences of his own actions. Her kiss had been too dry to get any saliva from, and what he could have sworn was an hour past. 

With nothing to pass the sickening time of waiting, a terrible thought began to form in his mind. Why did he have to play her game? If he could just sneak up on her, he could force her to kiss him. Normally, he would never even think of it, but that bitch wasn’t even human. She was something evil, something that fed off his suffering. The anger built up inside him gave him false confidence, making him attempt to walk to the door, before tripping and giving out, curling up against the door. Ugly tears ran down his face as he began to question his sanity.

Maroon barely noticed when the door creaked open, Violet looming above him. She didn’t hold back the giggle that erupted from her when he saw him in the fetal position, crying.

“Oh, you stupid boy. Got yourself in a mess you can’t get out of. Are you hoping I’ll clean it up for you?”

Violet grabbed his wrist, dragging him back to her bed. Maroon groaned as she dumped him onto the mattress, wincing as she pinned him down, her hands around his neck.

“Like a sick dog. If it weren’t my job to cause sinful humans suffering, maybe I’d feel kind enough to put you out of your misery.”

Maroon rasped out only one word, it was all the effort his body had the strength to give.

“Please.”

The lavender eyes above him stared down in contempt, her upper lip curled.

“Demons are all about deals and consent and I tried to warn you about the consequences, but you’re a bit dim, so I’ll make sure you fully understand this time. I am a demon, not a demon of lust, mind you, I am a demon of gluttony. My saliva acts as a physical contract of sorts. It's a highly addictive drug that once you digest a certain amount, you need to regularly consume that much or else you will start having withdrawal symptoms. I put little bits of myself into the chocolates I make, not enough to harm anyone, but just enough to bring them coming back for more so I can make money and continue my passion. Because chocolate making is something I love, I would be happy to do it and experiment with it for centuries.”

Violet laughed slowly, as if she thought of a small joke. Or maybe she thought everything was a joke.

“I can’t force people to eat my chocolates, so I have to coerce them like any good saleswoman. But there’s a certain expectation of how many contracts I need. There’s also an expectation of contracts with a more severe nature.”

The demon scowled, like seeing Maroon revolted her. He thought bitterly that she didn’t have to do this to him, to get involved with him. Violet, however, reacted as if she could hear his blame on her.

“Submissive men like you are always hiding an uglier side. You were only into me for my body and because I was nice to you. You used me, even if I was using you. I wasn’t lying when I said you’re disgusting. You are the filth of men walking, you just don’t have the bravery to be upfront with your sin. You kissed me with such greed, like you thought you deserved me.”

Violet gave a long pause, before spitting on Maroon’s face. She got off of him, giving him a dirty look. The man didn’t wait to lick her saliva, his eyes widening when he got the substance he had been waiting for.

“That should be enough to let you think clearly, you fucking parasite. Enough to make you seriously consider if you want to continue the never ending loop that is addiction. Or if you want to try and see if you can wean yourself off of me. Or maybe you’ll do me a favor and end your miserable existence. But if you choose that option, I won’t do it for you. Until you decide, get out of my sight.”

Maroon was not the man he needed to be, he was a man who didn’t know how to resist anything. That night, he accepted he would go back to Violet for the rest of his life, never leave their town or get married to another woman. He knew the truth, knew what that demon would do when she sold her chocolates, or flirted with other men. Over time, the jealousy would build and he would solve that problem with alcohol, despite how little flavor it had to him. Even the kiss of a demon became numb, his life melting away into a monotony of work and an empty home. He was distant from his family and coworkers, the only person he was close to physically was Violet, but all she felt towards him was repulsion. Of course she did, he blamed her for everything wrong in his life. He did not attempt to change, to become someone she could even pretend to care about. He just let decades pass him by, drinking and wasting space feeling bad about himself until he got into a fatal car accident involving alcohol at the age of forty-seven. Violet laughed when she saw the news headline of his passing, knowing full well where he was going.

[rinwellisathing]

Paint The Lines, Cut The Flesh: Part 11

As the party approached the towers, Sentry at the front, the guards at the steps inclined their heads. “W...Welcome back, sir!” Sentry blinked as he looked at the two. Completely unfamiliar to him, a pair of humans he couldn't recall seeing before in his life. But then again, if they claimed to recognize him, that could be useful, a way in without too much trouble. “Ah, thanks. Brought a new group of True Souls and all that. Praise the Absolute.” He gave a care free little salute as he walked past. The rest of the party followed somewhat hesitantly, confusion apparent on their faces, but as they weren't stopped and the guards didn't offer a second glance their way, it seemed unwise to question it. The entrance hall was vast with high ceilings and various groups of people milling about up to a wide array of tasks from buying and selling to drinking, to playing games of chance. Sentry paused a moment, unsure of which doorway to enter, scratching the back of his neck as he thought it over, turning his head as he felt a hand on his shoulder. “Kroger, Karlach, and I are going to go look for Jaina.” Wyll whispered, his expression solemn and determined as he tilted his head subtly in the direction prisoners were being led in. Sentry nodded his approval.

“That makes sense...Huh...guess I'll head the other way then.” He turned his eyes towards what appeared to be a kitchen. “I'd better follow along and make sure you don't drink something toxic again.” Astarion's fingers brushed Sentry's arm as he joined him, walking side by side with him through the doorway, leaving Lae'zel, Octavia, Gale, and Shadowheart in the entryway together. “I would love to figure out if they've got a library here.” Octavia suggested, bouncing on the soles of her feet eagerly. “Not a bad idea, with any luck we'll find some information about what makes this General Thorm tick.” Gale agreed, looking in the direction of the meeting hall ahead and its winding stair case. “I would hazard a guess it's upstairs and far from the prying eyes of this group.” Lae'zel frowned, but followed the two wizards, Shadowheart close behind. Both knew leaving a pair of curious wizards unattended in a necromancer's den was not a particularly wise course of action. --- Sentry peeked through the doorway of the kitchen, his lips curling into a delighted smile at the sight of three large, healthy gnolls milling about stirring pots and occasionally sweeping absently at the floor. “Oh! They're beautiful! Look, Astarion! Those markings, the fur texture...this breed comes from a little wooded area near Neverwinter. They're fiercely loyal and did you know there's a legend that one of their matriarchs nursed a great hero?” “How is it you don't remember how you got aboard the Nautiloid, but you've an encyclopedic knowledge of gnolls?” Astarion raised a brow, staring in disbelief at Sentry. “Well, I remember about gnolls. I feel like I've got a sort of kinship with them.” He explained. “They just feel like family to me, I can't really explain it...I'm going to go introduce myself.” Before Astarion could yank him back or remind him to exercise just a little subtlety, Sentry was walking into the kitchen and towards the gnolls, pausing briefly and turning his head as he noticed a gnomish woman chastising one of them.

“Now Barnabus, we use a spoon to stir the soup, forget the axe, love.” She cooed. “Well, maybe the axe gives it more flavor, did you think about that?” Sentry cut in, arms folded across his chest. “Gods, we're finished.” Astarion clapped a hand across his face and shook his head as he watched Sentry insert himself into the conversation. “Also Barnabus isn't a common name for a gnoll, it's hard on their mouth shape. Why're you calling him that?” Sentry added. “It's the power The Absolute gave me. I've civilized these gnolls, taught them a kinder, gentler way. Would you like to see?” The gnome folded her hands with a smile Sentry found particularly unsettling. Sentry was about to reply, his expression incredulous and indignant, but Astarion grabbed Sentry's arm and stepped up beside him. “We'd love to. Show us your gnoll taming tricks.” The vampire gave an unctuous smile, pouring on the charm as he whispered to Sentry through gritted teeth “Don't start something we can't get ourselves out of, darling.” Sentry gave a sour frown and rolled his eyes, but stood there beside Astarion, watching the gnome intently. “Oh, what shall I have Barnabus do?” She asked, tilting her head in thought. “I know!” Sentry felt the woman's mind connecting to the gnolls and in that moment, he felt a moment of weakness in her hold. He could see himself in his mind's eye reaching out to caress the strand of consciousness connecting her to Barnabus and without hesitation, he gripped and tugged, snapping it like an overused lute string. The gnoll fixed his gaze on the gnome, a growl escaping his lips as he raised up his claws to attack, the gnomes eyes widening as she staggered backwards, stammering out a protest that died on her lips as she was mauled. Sentry gave a contented smile and looked up at the gnoll. “Stunning, really just amazing creatures you are...” He patted the gnoll's shoulder fondly, the feeling of the fur beneath his fingers was familiar, comforting. “Maaaaster retuuurns.” The gnoll cackled. “Mooore prey sooon?” “Anything you want, sweet boy.” Sentry nodded his head. “Ti'ka be happy tooo see youuuu....We tell heeeer you back.” The gnoll licked Sentry's face, leaving a long, slimy trail of slobber, which the tiefling didn't seem to mind at all, gently patting at the gnoll's snout with a happy smile and laugh.

Astarion folded his arms across his chest, watching the scene before him. He should have been disgusted, he should have been annoyed, but he had to admit, he liked seeing Sentry like this. It was...dare he admit it? Cute. --- The smell of blood was heavy in the air when Wyll, Kroger, and Karlach made their way down the stairs into the dungeons. The floors were running red and the bodies of the guards were strewn across the stone floor, weapons broken, bodies seemingly trampled and punctured as though with hundreds of tiny spikes. A wooden door to the left had been bashed in as though by massive hooves and strange prints were visible in the blood. The three looked to the room, approaching slowly. Before they entered, a tiefling woman, tall and imposing, loomed in the doorway, holding an injured drow woman gingerly to her, one arm slung over her shoulder. Her bright violet eyes stared straight ahead at the party and an unnatural cold seemed to engulf her deep purple skin and her pale white braids. The silence was deafening and seemed to last terribly long. She regarded the group like a hunting predator and then took a step towards them, her eyes meeting with Wyll's. “They say the enemy of my enemy is my friend....Ketheric Thorm and my sister made an enemy of me when they hurt her....” The tiefling began. “Let her recover in your camp, I will join her there and tell you what I know...” Wyll paused a moment, considering the offer. They needed all the help they could get, but then again, he recognized the drow. She had been one of the leaders back at the goblin camp, one of the ones who would have killed the tiefling refugees as well as the druids. Still, if this woman could help, if the information she had could rescue Jaina, that was worth it. He nodded. “Alright.”

The tiefling woman nodded in reply before pausing to add. “Oh, the warden is dead as well, by the way...There are digging tools in her old office belonging to some of the prisoners...Behind the walls there was a dock, perhaps they can escape by boat...no one is here to stop them anyway.” “Thank you.” Wyll replied quietly. --- Sentry gently pushed open the door at the other end of the kitchen and slowly walked through the door, Astarion still behind him. Immediately, both men paused, pupils dilating as the scent of blood hit their nostrils. The room was relatively clean apart from the clutter of storage crates and alchemical tools, and yet the scent permeated the air. Sentry closed his eyes and let himself drift a moment as another memory swam into focus. He was young, maybe fifteen or sixteen, and he sat cross legged on a stone floor with a girl five or six years younger than he was, everything about her pale and colorless except the red marbling of her white skin and the pale gold of her hair. “Now see, Orin? The blood goes into this mixture, which keeps it from drying up too quick....” He held up a small glass bottle. “Cork it like so...” He popped a cork into the top. “And then we simply shake it to mix it all up.” He grinned, passing her a vial of a clear liquid and gesturing to the limp corpse of a dwarf beside them. “Now you try.” The little girl copied Sentry's instructions slowly and carefully, her brow furrowed with concentration to get it just right. “Like this, slaughter-kin?” She asked. “Yeah, that's it! Maybe Tomi even has something to play around with the colors a bit too, but you've got it!” He beamed. “I can't wait to see what you make with it.”

The memory faded and Sentry found himself back in the present, watching a drow woman working at a bench laden with mixtures and vials. She noticed him and approached with an unsettling smile on her face. “Ah, True Soul...I wonder if you might be willing to assist me in an experiment. You would be adequately compensated, of course.” She grinned. Sentry noticed her eyes danced past him to Astarion fairly often, the vampire hadn't quite noticed yet, but Sentry instinctively stepped in front of him. “That depends entirely on what sort of experiment.” Sentry folded his arms across his chest and looked over at her work bench, trying to get an idea of what she was playing at. “I need blood that has been touched by The Absolute...”She began. Sentry's eyes fell on bits of discolored brain matter and chopped up tendrils on the bench and he raised an eyebrow. “Don't play coy, you know about the tadpoles. You want blood from someone who's been infected by a mindflayer. That's why you're messing around with intellect devourer parts. But fine. A little bit of my blood won't kill me and I suppose I could use every advantage I can get.” He held out his arm to her. “Wonderful...You may feel a slight pinch....just a little prick...There!” She drew a small amount of blood from the tiefling and turned, bringing it back to her table. The clink of glass and the bubbling of liquid was the only sound for a moment and then she returned, handing Sentry a potion. “For your troubles....although...I do have a far more powerful potion, one of a kind really...and I could offer it to you if only...well, that vampire, he's yours, is he?” She nodded towards Astarion. Sentry blinked, looking back to Astarion and then to the woman. “He's a person.” “That's not what I asked.” The woman replied. “You're his master?” “No, he can do what he wants.” Sentry was beginning to like this woman less and less with ever passing moment as he bristled with annoyance. He looked back at Astarion, noticing that he was now paying full attention to what was going on. “Well, any way ever since I was a little girl, I've wanted to be bitten by a vampire...if he'll bite me, I'll give you the potion I mentioned.” She continued, gazing past Sentry at Astarion with a look of intense lust in her dark eyes.

Astarion gave a hollow laugh and shook his head. “You want me to bite you?” He looked incredulously at the woman for a moment, then at Sentry, and finally shook his head. “Hmm no...sorry, I'm afraid I'll have to decline.” His eyes focused on Sentry for a moment and the tiefling noted a look of fear in his eyes. “What?! But this is a one of a kind offer.” The woman scoffed, turning to Sentry. “Talk to your pet, make him see reason!” Sentry glared down at the drow, drawing himself to his full height and folding his arms sternly across his chest. “He said no. That's the end of it.” There was a threatening edge to Sentry's voice, one that brooked no argument. Astarion visibly calmed, but stayed behind the paladin for the moment. “Fine. It's your loss.” The woman sniffed, turning back to her work. As the two men left the room, Sentry paused and turned to look Astarion over, he could see the vampire was shaking just a bit and frowned. “Are you alright?” He asked, his expression softening to a look of a concern. “That woman was....a lot...right?” Astarion winced, looking away. “Let's....let's talk about this later...somewhere less open.” The tiefling nodded his head. “Yeah, sure. Sorry. Should we go find Wyll and the others? If they've found the prisoners, they could probably use some help.” Astarion gave a small nod, following Sentry.

--- Sentry had to focus intently to fight down the anger at the way that woman had treated Astarion. He could feel it boiling in his veins. It gnawed at him, painfully dragging another long forgotten memory to mind.

He was small, nowhere near the imposing figure he cut now. He felt a tightness at his chest where he could feel thick linen bandages wrapped, binding it down. The feeling of heaviness at his chest beneath those bandages sent a wave of nausea and wrongness through him. His body ached and he could feel a cold, hard floor beneath him in the small, dark room he was contained in. His silver hair was long and hung limp down his back and over his face, which had yet to gain its prominent burn scar. He was vulnerable, naked except for those bandages and a small sash wrapped around his waist. He heard voices approaching the room. A hissing whisper of a woman's voice, eager and excited first. “It is an honor you've come to us, my lord! I assure you, she is ripe and ready for you.” The woman simpered, voice quivering in awe as the footsteps drew closer to the door. “Hm...good...and do not worry if she should put up a fight...I think I would prefer it.” A deep male voice replied. The door swung open and Sentry could see a tall, imposing figure in armor standing beside a tiefling woman with horns like his, her head shaved and marked with Bhaalist symbols in ink and scar. Her deep violet eyes gazed down on him with a mixture of pride and envy. The man's yellow eyes held a terrifying lust that made Sentry's stomach turn as he scurried back against the wall, his back pressing against the hard stone with nowhere else to go. “No...please...I...I can't...I still hurt....Mother, please....” His voice was high and young, and he knew that he was afraid, beginning to panic. His tail was raised and twitching back and forth and his mismatched eyes were wide in terror as he looked at the man who was so much larger than him. Even if he did try to fight back, it wouldn't matter. His sharp nails dug into the ground beneath him. “Hush, girl! This is an honor. Lord Sarevok himself has come to make use of you. Imagine the bounty you would provide your father if this union bears fruit.” The woman's smile was manic and wild as she stepped back, letting the armored man enter the room and then shutting the door as she left.

Sentry closed his eyes tightly and bit his lip, his heart hammering in his chest as the man's footsteps approached and a large, thick hand wrapped around his throat. “Come now, Vereena...Do as father commands. He made you for this.” The man's voice was like the growling purr of a predatory jungle cat, his grip was iron, inescapable. Sentry's only choice was to let his mind drift away as he became vaguely aware of his body being laid down on the cold, hard ground, and his legs being spread. And then there was only pain. --- “Sentry?” Sentry's eyes blinked rapidly and he gave a sudden yelp of surprise before realizing he was standing face to face with Karlach and Wyll, Astarion still standing by his side and Kroger staggering back, releasing his wrist which he'd been holding.

“When did I get here?” Sentry asked, rubbing his head awkwardly, fingers brushing over the stubble of the shaved areas and the jagged, cruel scar at the back of his skull. “We were on our way to look for the others and you were oddly quiet and pensive, so I just followed along, I assumed you had another of your headaches or something.” Astarion explained. “Then, when we ran into Karlach, you proceeded to just stand there and stare into space, the others arrived and you still didn't react, so the good doctor here decided to examine you.” He gestured to Kroger. “It was all quite dramatic.” “You okay, soldier?” Karlach asked, examining Sentry's face closely for signs of pain or illness. “You didn't look so well and then you kinda just cried out a bit...I guess it's a good thing we're in the dungeons so that sound isn't out of the ordinary to hear.” “Any sign of Jaina?” Sentry asked, looking around the entry way, taking in the blood and corpses that still littered the floor. Wyll shook his head, worry obvious across his face. “Not a trace of her...But, we did find the Iron Hands as well as some of the Tieflings, they're working on breaking through the walls to get to some docks on the other side, we can guide them to Last Light across the water once we have access to a boat.” “It was our task to ensure all the guards were well and truly dead and the scrying eyes were inactive.” Kroger added. “Not that it was much work, considering someone had arrived before us to free a prisoner and slaughtered most of them.”

Sentry looked past Kroger, his eyes focused on the damage to the corpses. Slowly, he slipped past the rest of the party and knelt down, examining the wounds. “These guards were trampled...The thing that killed them was giving off an abnormal chill...and on top of that, it had something sharp extending from its hooves...” He explained. “Look, some of the blood is even frozen...Whatever did this is not something to be played around with...” He frowned curiously, trying to consider what kind of creature it may have been. He had a feeling he'd encountered it before, but his scarred and damaged brain couldn't quite remember. The sound of stone collapsing interrupted any attempt at further thought as the party turned in the direction of the noise. A familiar dark haired tiefling woman poking her head out from the cell and calling to them. “We've broken through! Are you coming?” “Hells yeah!” Karlach pumped a fist triumphantly. “Let's get these guys back to the inn and regroup.” She hurried towards the cells and the newly formed hole in the wall, Sentry following close behind with Astarion not far behind. “But what about Gale and Shadowheart? And my sisters?” Kroger frowned, looking back towards the stairs. “If you prefer, you and I can rejoin them. After all, the boat already seems quite full.” Wyll offered, placing a hand on Kroger's shoulder. “Just one moment...” Kroger nodded. “Sentry!” He called after the paladin, who stopped and turned around. “I found this in the House of Healing! It's got the name Octavia mentioned carved in it. Bring it to Halsin!” He removed a small lute from his pack and ran a few paces forward, tossing it to Sentry, who caught it and nodded his understanding.

“Thanks, doctor.” Sentry turned and continued on his way to the docks. --- Ketheric regarded Jaina solemnly, absently running a hand over the smooth, skeletal head of his faithful hound which padded up alongside him. “Miss Thalassia, you make it a point to assure me I can't be a monster because I am a loving father, but that's just it...it is possible to be both, it's only a matter of how far a father is pushed for love of his child.” Jaina gave a gentle frown and took another sip of wine. “I didn't imply that, I only meant that it's never too late.” She explained. “You can make a different choice, follow a new path. Isobel is alive and well now and if she's all that matters to you, which I truly believe she is, then her love and approval are more important than whatever promises you made to Myrkul, to this Absolute.” Ketheric gave a hollow smirk and shook his head. “You don't even know what The Absolute truly is and you presume it couldn't rip my daughter away from me as easily as she was returned?” “Any evil can be defeated.” Jaina replied matter of factly. “It's only a matter of knowing it and discerning its weaknesses. Besides, even in fighting a god, numbers and resources matter.” “You truly don't know what you're suggesting...”The general shook his head. “But anyway, your friends still haven't come to your rescue, so indulge me in another story to pass the time.” Jaina thought a moment and nodded her head. “As I mentioned, my twin brother and I grew up on the island my father's crew called home. We were happy there, safe.” She smiled fondly, toying with her glass in her hands as she recalled. “We wanted so much to be pirates like our parents when we grew up...My father used to set his cutlasses at the blacksmith shop to be tended to after every voyage and the blacksmith was an older man, prone to aches and pains, and so Tibs and I learned how often he needed to sit down out of view of the counter and we stole the cutlasses to play with....We fought across the beach...”

Their swords clashed together on the beach as they ran after one another, their laughter echoing across the sands. Jaina's long sunshine colored hair rippled in the wind behind her as she played. Tibs own sandy hair was pulled back into a ponytail out of his face and both were dressed in simple linen tunics and trousers, barefoot as they dashed across the warm sand. “Surrender, villain!” Tibs laughed as he thrust his sword forward, his laughter faded and his bright smile slid into a look of horror, his eyes wide as they fell on his cutlass slipped directly through his sister's chest, blood blossoming on her white tunic as she staggered backwards and slid to her knees, blue eyes going cloudy as her hand shakily moved to the wound, staining her grey-blue skin with blood as she collapsed into the salty surf. “No...Oh no...Jaina...please don't die...please don't die, I'm gonna go get mom and dad!” The boy sniffled, staggering back from his sister's limp body and turning to run, kicking up a cloud of sand as he run, tears streaming down his face. “Such a worthless sacrifice....Small, weak, just a slip of a thing...” A voice hissed from behind Jaina. Her eyes flew open and she was beneath the waves, deep in the dark and floating, her long hair floating above her as she hung suspended there. Her skin's shark-like qualities becoming far more obvious under the sea. Strange finlike growths bloomed from her elbows, wrists, and ankles as she floated there. Long black hair swished like seaweed past her and a face with deep, eloquent black eyes examined her intently and the thin, fish-like lips curved into a wicked smile, the grin revealing long, sharp, needle like teeth. The woman's legs ended in long tendrils like an octopus' legs and her body was covered in shimmering scales and elegant fins.

“And yet....you come from oh so loyal a family line...And you've a capacity for rage....What a fine conduit you could be, my little guppy...”The woman cooed, a long nailed finger, the texture of a jagged, shattered seashell tapping Jaina's tiny, freckled nose, the woman's expression clearly savoring Jaina's look of fear. “Yes, I think that suits me....” She turned and waved a hand carelessly as she began to swim away. “Now run along, child...mother is calling.” Her laughter echoed as Jaina's vision began to blur and fade again. “And when I woke up, mother was cradling me in her arms and trying with all her strength to heal me.” Jaina explained, raising her head to look Ketheric in the eye. The half elf regarded the young tiefling, his expression empty, unreadable as he looked her in the eyes. “But you see, there is the difference between myself and your own parents, miss Thalassia...You were returned to them....It took me three gods to bring my Isobel back. Only Myrkul did not deny me...And as such, he has never had a more faithful servant.” --- As the boat pulled into the docks of The Last Light Inn, Sentry climbed out first and held out a hand for the other passengers, helping them each out in turn. Karlach grinned and laughed out loud when it came to her turn. “Well thank you, Sir Ojeda. Makin' me feel like a damn Princess here.” Karlach chuckled, grabbing Sentry's hand and pulling herself onto the docks before them. She gave him a joking little curtsy as they joined the rescued prisoners on dry land. Sentry folded his arms and rolled his eyes as the Harpers checked the prisoners for tadpole influence, though he had to admit that he was relieved when they found none and he smiled as he watched them make their way into the inn to rejoin with their loved ones. He watched Alfira and Lakrissa hug eachother tightly, he watched Rolan and his siblings reunite, sure to stand back from them and avoid interrupting. He examined the lute Kroger had given him and took a deep breath, making his way towards the makeshift infirmary where Halsin was waiting, still tending the unconscious Flaming Fist.

“Hey...”He smiled gently at the druid, reaching out gently to him. “Kroger found this in Reithwin...It's got this guy's name on it, maybe it could help?” Halsin beamed at Sentry. “Music can often trigger memories, so perhaps it could serve to wake him up as well. Play a few notes.” He suggested, the excitement in his voice far from hidden. Sentry bit his lip, about to protest. He wasn't much of a musician, but seeing Halsin's eyes on him in this moment, he had to try. With a deep breath, he plucked the strings gently a few times, watching anxiously for just a moment before the human jolted upright in his bed. “Thaniel is in danger! He's still trapped in the Shadowfell!” The man gasped. “Whoa, hey....calm down, buddy...Halsin is a druid, he can help your friend.” Sentry assured the man, patting his shoulder gently. “Halsin?” “Any information you can give me will help me to find him, any small clue to where he might be...” Halsin added gently but urgently. The man thought a moment and took a deep breath. “There...there was lavender...every time Thaniel was near, I could smell lavender.” He recalled.

“I can work with that.” Halsin nodded, standing up and looking to Sentry. “You've done so much for me so far, but I'm afraid I must rely on you once more, my friend.” He took Sentry's hand in his, the tiefling blushed and looked up into Halsin's eyes, vaguely considering how seldom it was that he was the one looking up. --- The two made their way out to the edge of the water behind the inn, Sentry watched as Halsin climbed up on a small hill and turned to face him. “I have communed with Silvanus for years to learn this spell...it is something that I, and I alone must do.” Sentry regarded him with concern, reaching out to Halsin. “But you'll be by yourself...what if there's trouble....please, there has to be a way I can help...” The tiefling took the larger elf's hand gently. Halsin gave Sentry's had a reassuring squeeze and looked deeply into his eyes. “You will be the light that guides me home.” A smile crossed Sentry's face and he nodded. “You can count on me...I mean...I am a paladin, being a guiding light is kind of my specialty.” He grinned, gently letting go of Halsin's hand as he walked off into the portal leaving Sentry standing before it. Sentry watched the portal anxiously, waiting for Halsin's return, until he heard a sound behind him and turned around to face several shadow creatures skulking towards him. He cursed quietly under his breath and drew his axe.

It felt like hours and Sentry was battered and bleeding, down on one knee in front of the portal, blood dripping from his nose and mouth as the shadow creatures closed in on him, but he couldn't give up, Halsin had not returned yet. He gripped his axe tightly and winced, staggering to his feet, swaying slightly. “I made a promise...I'll defend this portal till my last breath.” He spit blood onto the ground in front of him, the coppery taste still filling his mouth, and he braced himself for another attack. Then, as quickly as it had begun, a blinding light issued from the portal and with a feral screech, the creatures fell to ash around him as Halsin stepped out of the portal, an unconscious child in his arms. Sentry looked up at him with relief and smiled before he collapsed on the ground at his feet, the world spinning out of focus. --- When Sentry opened his eyes, he was laying on a bedroll in the camp, Halsin was kneeling beside him while Astarion stood by, arms folded across his chest as he gazed with worry at Sentry. Karlach was tending the fire and it seemed the others had made their way back to camp as Kroger approached with his pack and sat down next to Sentry, beginning to apply various salves to his wounds.

“What I don't understand is why neither of you thought to ask any of the rest of us for help. Sentry's not a one man army and he isn't invincible. You put him in serious danger expecting him to guard you alone!” Astarion frowned. “Is that concern I hear?” Sentry grinned. “Oh don't give me that, you know damn well I need you for whatever Raphael intends to ask of me.” His red eyes darted away from Sentry, but the tiefling could tell he was covering up how he felt. “Nope, you were worried about me.” Sentry chuckled. “Admit it, you'd be upset if I died.” “I believe most of us would be.” Halsin cut in. “I'm sorry I put you in danger, Sentry...But now I'm free to accompany you and do my part in ending this curse. Once you've healed properly, I'll be by your side should you need me.” “I'll be fine, you're all fussing over me like I'm fragile.” Sentry slowly began to sit up only for a deceptively strong green skinned hand to press him back down. “Stay. You're going to re-open your wounds, I haven't had a chance to close them yet because they need to be disinfected first.” Kroger insisted. “You are worse than a child.” “Speaking of children, Halsin, how's that kid you rescued?” Sentry asked as Kroger continued to clean and disinfect his wounds before slowly beginning to close them with his magic. Halsin sighed and shook his head. “Thaniel is stable, however it's like there's a part of him missing...We must find it...But rest assured, I will be at your side every step of the way.” “But that is a task for tomorrow, for now, sleep.” Kroger insisted as he packed up his supplies and got to his feet, his large, luminous green eyes staring Sentry down as he pointed a finger accusingly at him.

Sentry rolled his eyes with a sigh, but laid back down on his bed roll and closed his eyes as the rest of his companions dispersed to their various sleeping spaces. --- Sentry's eyes flew open only a few hours later and he could feel the world spinning around him. He looked over at the mat Astarion lay meditating on and began to walk towards it as though in a trance. His hand wanted to go for his axe, but he pushed the urge down and roughly shook the elf, who blearily shook off his trance. “Hello darling, looking for a cuddle?” He gave a charming smile as he sat up, looking up at Sentry. “No time for joking, you're in real danger...That curse...the one that made me kill the bard....it wants me to kill you...if we don't stop me, you'll die...I....I don't want you to die...” Sentry bit his lip nervously, his body beginning to tremble a bit. Astarion raised a brow. “I see...That certainly IS a dilemma...” He paced around Sentry for a moment, frowning deep in thought. “One moment...” He headed back to his tent and returned shortly with a length of rope. “Astarion, this is no time for kinky games.” Sentry frowned. “You're in danger!” The elf sighed dramatically and rolled his eyes. “Rope has many, many uses, dear Sentry. Right now, we're going to use it to keep you from doing anything you'll regret, now arms behind your back, darling. I promise I'll be as gentle as I can.”

A moment later, Sentry as bound like a tightly packed bed roll and laid on his side, a gag of white cloth tied around his mouth as he struggled and squirmed, drooling and snarling. Every now and then he managed to break through the haze and give Astarion an apologetic look or a sad smile. The elf, to his credit, never left Sentry's side, even occasionally running a hand through his silver hair comfortingly despite the risk. The last thing Sentry managed before falling unconscious fully was a grateful smile.

[brokenmusicboxwolfe]

Well, at least I have FINALLY gotten Mom’s Mother’s Day stuff mailed.

I had a devil of a time with it.

The sculpey made me frustrated beyond belief. At least six years old, hard as rock, hours of grinding with my fingers getting raw, and I worked enough into usable shape. Then the sculpey would NOT stick to itself. It was mushy in my hot hands, yet would crack at the same time. I tried to get around the attaching things like heads and arms, I tried to make them from one lump of sculpey. That doesn’t ever go well for me. I had to sculpt aspects out of natural sculpting order. I was too ambitious for the materials, which made it even worse.

It looked awful. Rough sculpting , with squished bits and cracks.

And then I had to paint it.

UGH. Dried up paint, worn out brushes, I actually sat on a brush breaking it in half…..

Let’s just say that at one point I painted the eyes on one face from 7:30 pm till 4 am. I was washing it off and starting over repeatedly, then had to redo the face. Paint built up. And guess what? It still took me two hours the next day before I threw my hands up and declared “It’ll do…maybe.” I have NEVER had so much trouble painting a damn face. Worst eyes ever! I’ve made a mermaid with eyes more suited to a frog!!

Any other time it would be okay. I’d just pick the best from several options. This time everything took so much longer than usual, and I have been so overwhelmingly busy, that I couldn’t even finish a back up. I have one, but it’s only half painted and too fragile to mail anyone. No choices.

Honestly, it should have been one night getting sculpey usable, one night to sculpt, one night for adjustments and baking, two nights to paint, and one night for any final touchups and pics. I have spent double that! Everything was so hard. I may have screamed in frustration a few time.

Then, making it all worse, it turned out I couldn’t afford to buy a card, so I would have to make a card.

A card from the stuff I had. Old stuff. Stuff I’d had to pack away 10yrs ago. The markers had dried up. The paper wouldn’t work with the colored pencils. I used a glue gun to attach flowers I made from tissue paper and pipe cleaner stems, only to get hot glue all over the damn place, including me (Lots. OUCH!) and the floor (joining a lot of paint). I added glitter, but the glue I used for that took so long to dry (still damp 24hrs later!) that it was touch and go if I could pack it before the post office closed at 5pm.

Oh god, I made better cards when I was four! And would you believe I spent five hours trying to make these disasters??

So I devoted many, many hours to making Mom’s gift and cards, and it all ended up an ugly mess!!!

I sure hope Mom sees the love behind it all and not the hideous reality. I wish I weren’t so utterly disappointed in what I made.

**sigh**

But, it’s mailed in time to get to her. I guess that counts for something.

Maybe.

I wish I could just buy her something, rather than trust myself to make something worthy of her. Most the time it works out, but sometimes…… Well, generic grocery store flowers would be an improvement !

[toska-writes]

“Shiny”

Summary: After a few complains from worried troopers your master ordered armor for the 2 of you. And now some boy were excited to help you customize!

Paring: Cody+212th x Reader (guess what?!? Plaaaaaaaaatonic!!! WOO)

Warning: None! Just teeth rotting fluff!

Word Count: 1375

Read here on ao3! (✩)

You wouldn’t say your reckless on the battlefield, nor was your master Obi-Wan Kenobi. It just seemed when it came down to it all you were shot at a lot.

Like all the time.

So after a few bullets caught in the ribs or the arms here and there worried some troopers of the well being of their beloved Commander and General.

*Cough cough Cody cough*

Your comm buzzed as you made your way to the training rooms to meet your master, it was odd though because you were supposed to meet with Obi-wan later for your scheduled training.

“Hello master. Cody” You waved to them both already eyeing the boxes that layer by their feet. “What’s this? I though training wasn’t until 01600.” You stopped in front of the two.

Obi-wan let out a laugh and then explained. “We finally got our shipment in, apparently the GAR thought it be a good idea for some armor for the two of us Y/N” He with the help of Cody opened the two packages. “Even if it’s minimal it’s still better then none.”

“You can say that again.” Cody said under his breath.

“Aww Cod’ika gets nervous when we’re shot at.” You joked bumping arms with him.

Obi-wan passed you a breast plate with shoulder coverage as well, some arm and hand braces were included. He himself also had a set similar.

Your mouth hung open as you ran a hand over the white plaster. All the possibilities running through your head.

The awe clearly showed on your face and for the second time your master laughed. “Please go enjoy decorating it Y/N it’s lovely to see you this happy.” Obi-wan placed a hand on your shoulder

You bowed slightly trying not to drop everything you had in your hands and smiled at Cody hoping he would follow you.

“Everyone is quite excited to help with the painting.” Cody strolled next to you. “It’ll be good to touch up our own armor as well.”

You laughed as you started to run a little faster down the hall, making Cody try to keep up with you.

“Slow down there Shiny before you drop something.”

You turned to look at him. “Oh no don’t you start that-“

Cody’s cheerful laugh cut through your sentence. “Sorry sir buts it’s the perfect opportunity.”

You rolled your eyes as the pair of you turned down one more corridor and were finally met with the doors to the 212th barracks.

“Hey commander.” You herd Boil as he started to lay some tarps around the floor of the conman room.

You saw Trapper watching from a perch on one of the couches “We don’t want anything getting ruined now do we.”

Boil and Crys joined the commotion in the room arguing quite loudly as they fought over what seemed to be a can of paint.

“No no the shades all wrong! It’s brighter than that.”

“Are you color blind or something Vod? Maybe got hit one too many times?”

You laughed at the too rolling your eyes simultaneously with Cody.

You finally dropped all the fresh armor on the trap after Waxer finally got it nice and smooth.

Wooley, Longshot, and Gearshift all stumbled into the room, arms filled with piles of armor. Some were definitely in better shape than others.

You flashed them an excited smile with everyone joining you around the pot of orange paint that was so special to the entire battalion.

Peel finally joined the group with extra colors such as red, white, and black.

“Now let’s get started.” Cody clapped and everyone dug through the pile to find their own individual armor.

You grabbed the center piece and started at it for a moment. Carefully you reached for a paintbrush, chatter from your brothers around the room filled your ears.

“You know cyare if you wanted I could help you make your own sun design and then we could match.” Cody suggest grabbing a paint brush of his own.

“I love that idea Kotes!” You smiled back finally getting brave enough to dip your brush into the orange paint.

Waxed and Boil chimed in. “Could we do a form arm brace if the commanders getting the chest plate?”

“Of course, and if anyone else wants to do the other feel free.” You added. The brush touched down on the white, you mapped out half a circle at the cut off that would be right about your belly button.

One more stroke, then another. “Kriff.” You swore quickly, a rouge line got away from you.

“Woah there shiny need some help.” Waxer leaned over your shoulder.

“Really everyone’s doing that now?” You asked in question of the nickname.

“Why wouldn’t we?” Waxer questioned again now bending down, grabbing your paint brush to assist you.

You watched him for a moment before he went back to work on the other part of the set with Boil again.

About a quarter inch above the half circle you made another think line, making a ring.

Cody joined now in the painting of the rays that matched his own sunshine. At one point even Wooley joined trying to speed up the process.

You looked up to see that Waxer and Boil now finished their respective brace, it was in the geometric points that adorned the patterns of their own armor.

The other brace was being occupied by Gearshift who was painting a small ring of yellow that would circle the area where you could put your comm.

The armor was coming together now, every seemed to be just finished up their touch-ups when you announced ‘done’ very proudly.

“Wow it’s looking good commander.” Trapper smiled.

“Yea not bad for your first time Shiny.” Crys laughed with his brother.

“Now how longs that gonna last? Hmm?” You questioned leaning back into Cody as the armor had to dry.

“At least until the first campaign you wear it in.” Cody explain. “Until then your the teams new Shiny.”

The woosh of mechanical doors made everyone freeze. “Huh it seems the council meeting made me miss all the fun.” Obi-wan came to sit down beside you a Cody, resting a hand on the other man’s thigh.

Chatter filled the air once again as the group waited for the paint to finish drying on all of them.

After some time passed your master said. “Well now Y/N I hope you plan on trying it on for us.”

You couldn’t agree more, just up from your spot of the floor you rushed to the newly dried armor and slipped the first piece over your head. The clasp in the front was definitely easier than the ones in the back, thankfully Longshot was there to click them in for you.

The left shoulder covering was designed with the Jedi Order symbol in red matching the one your master also had. The other was the same stark white that you started with.

You slipped on the arm and fore arm piece each side coming together nicely.

Some cheers went up around the room as you spun round for them all to see.

“Now where’s the lightsaber holder on that one?” Cody quipped.

Obi-wan leaned into him to try and suppress his laughter.

The armor felt right, how you fought so many battles before without it was insane.

“Oh one more thing.” You added before you forgot, unhooking the front chest piece you laid it in the middle of the room. “Everyone needs to sign it.” You pointed to the empty backside still without marking.

Obi-wan and Cody were the first the sign. The Boil, followed by Waxer in what could be argued as an obnoxiously large font.

Soon everyone finished there signature, some neater than others but it was the different personality’s they all had that really blew you away. No it was just to get the other troopers that weren’t here to sign it as well.

“It looks pretty good for a shiny.” Cody came up to you as you clicked the armor back into place, he did the same with his own.

The two of you stood side by side, the painted suns never seemed brighter

[erin-bo-berin]

i love your whole dad!steve concept it truly makes my heart burst! set in the singlemom!reader verse, could you do something where it’s steve’s birthday and the reader surprises him with an adoption certificate asking him to adopt the baby?

That would be the CUTEST THING. Oh yes, I’m so excited for this! I have to use this gif because imagine how stunned and surprised and just shocked in general he would be. My heart 😭 (also, fun fact: I ended up including my little fur baby’s name in here)

“Surprise!”

“Jesus Christ! You scared the shi- uh crap out of me!”

Steve put a hand to his chest, eyeing the toddler in your arms, glad he’d caught the swear just in time. These days, she was repeating anything she heard so he’d tried to be extra careful what he said when he was around her.

“Happy birthday, Steve,” you smiled, putting the little girl in your arms down so she could greet him too.

She went flying the short distance between you and Steve, running over to him to hug his legs.

“Happee birfday daddy!” she squealed, wrapping her small arms around his legs.

He smiled, bending down to pick her up.

“Thank you baby girl and mommy,” he said looking over at you, the smile lighting his face.

“I got you pwesent,” she said, beaming up at her daddy.

“Did you now? What did you get me? Hmm, a tie?”

She shook her head emphatically.

You raised a brow, amused, “You? I’m a tie?”

He stuck his tongue out at you, playfully.

“Let’s see,” Steve resumed his guessing game with his and your daughter, “Is it…a book?”

“No!” she grinned.

“Is it your favorite stuffed bunny named Hoppy?”

“No, silwee!” she giggled.

Still working on her pronunciation of the word, “silly” came out much cuter and funnier than it should’ve, causing Steve to laugh with joy.

“Is it a million kisses for daddy?” he asked again, then started attacking her face with kisses, giving her numerous ones all over her face.

The little girl squealed with joy. It was one of her favorite things her daddy did, was give kisses.

“Mommy have pwesent,” she finally said when Steve stopped, pointing towards you.

You held a print out caked shaped design that the toddler had “painted”. But, at the top, you’d done a little activity with her. You’d dipped her entire finger into different paints and made a few “candles” out of her finger prints at the top of the cake. It had turned out adorable.

“What is this?” Steve asked, taking the picture, looking at it.

The smile hadn’t left his face yet, but it grew even brighter as he looked at the picture.

“Did you do this for me, sweetie?” he asked.

Your daughter nodded with a smile.

“Mommy hepped.”

“Mommy helped?” he translated.

“Yesh.”

“Well, I love it,” he kissed the top of her head, “Thank you so much princess.”

“You welcome, daddy.”

“The kids, Robin, Eddie, Nancy and Joyce all dropped off their presents earlier,” you chuckled, nodding to the pile of wrapped presents and gift bags on the couch, “The living room looks like Christmas currently.”

Joyce and Mrs. Wheeler were hosting a cook out party for Steve at the Wheeler’s house this weekend for everyone to gather and celebrate your boyfriend, but most of the gang had decided to drop off their gifts for him early, on his actual birthday. Today, he was celebrating with you and your daughter.

“Well I guess that means someone is going to have to help open all those presents. Who should it be?” Steve tapped his chin, thinking.

“Meme! Meme! Meme! Pwease, daddy?”

“Well, since you asked so nicely, of course you can.”

He kissed her cheek.

“What’s for dinner? It smells amazing in here,” he said, following you further into the kitchen.

“I fixed spaghetti since the munchkin requested it,” you said, sparing the little girl an amused glance, “I hope that’s okay.”

“Pagetti!” she cheered.

“Well, then I’m in luck because your spaghetti is my favorite,” he smiled, giving you a kiss as well.

“No,” your baby whined, trying to pull Steve’s face away from you.

She was currently going through a bit of a jealous phase where she wanted Steve’s attention at all times.

“Hey, now that’s not nice, sweetheart. There’s enough of daddy to share okay? See, look. I can give you a kiss as well.”

He kissed her cheek, then her forehead to prove his point.

“Now, can you say sorry to mommy?”

“I sowwy,” she frowned, not liking to upset either one of you.

“It’s okay sweetheart,” you soothed, running a hand over her hair.

“Go get cleaned up, dinner is almost ready, okay?” you told Steve.

“You heard what mommy said. Let’s go wash our hands okay?” he bounced her in his arms.

“Oh I got a present for you, too, but I’ll give it to you later, if that’s alright?” you said.

“Oh,” he smirked, “That’s more than alright.”

“Steve!” you huffed, hitting his chest playfully, “That’s not what I meant.”

“Alright, but can it be arranged? It is my birthday after all. I deserve some dessert.”

He gave you a grin, with a suggestive little wiggle of his brows before he walked out with the little girl, heading towards the bathroom.

“Besides cake, I mean!” he hollered.

You laughed, shaking your head at the audacity of him.

•

It wasn’t until after yours and Steve’s daughter was down for the night that you got the chance to give Steve your present.

True to his word, he’d let her help him open his gifts. She was a mess after the spaghetti dinner though, so bath time came first. Per Steve’s request, you and he gave her a bath together. She absolutely loved the extra attention, having both mom and dad with her for bath time was a rare occurrence. It was usually one or the other.

While Steve got her into her pajamas, you drained the bathwater and cleaned up the bathroom, not leaving it for later when you knew you’d be too tired to deal with the mess.

With hair still wet from the bath and in fresh pajamas, Steve set her in his lap and let her help him open presents. He let her pick which one to start with and it was off from there. You had a kick watching both of them, the toddler just as excited as Steve was. You appreciated how he included her in so much; you appreciated it more than he probably knew.

It wasn’t until the last few presents that her energy drained and the tell-tale signs of her sleepiness kicked in. She was yawning and rubbing her eyes, beginning to fuss at the mention of bedtime.

She fell fast asleep just before the last present and after opening it as quietly as he could—even though it didn’t disturb her the slightest—Steve carried her to bed and tucked her in.

He was tidying up the floor when you walked back in the room, picking up the pieces of wrapping paper and tissue paper from gift bags that had been carelessly thrown by an excited two and a half year old.

You hid the gift behind your back as you entered, biting your lip nervously. You were afraid that he might not like it as much as you’d hoped he would when you’d first received it. It was a medium sized rectangular gift box, wrapped in birthday wrapping paper, but it was what was inside that was the true gift.

Steve was chuckling to himself when you first entered and now he looked up, seeing you, filling you in on what was amusing him so much.

“I can’t believe Henderson got me four cans of Farrah Fawcett hairspray. What a kid.”

“Steve? Why don’t you sit down?”

Sensing your somber mood, he sat on the couch.

“What’s up?”

You sat down next to him, revealing the present from behind your back.

“Happy birthday.”

“Sweetheart, you didn’t have to get me anything,” he smiled, wrapping an arm around you, pulling you into him before kissing your temple.

“I know. But I wanted to. Go ahead, open it.”

He tore into the wrapping paper at a much more normal speed than that of the excited toddler earlier. He peeled away the wrapping to see the gift box you knew was underneath. He peered at you curiously before lifting the lid.

Inside, nestled in tissue paper was a small stack of papers. Steve’s brows crinkled in confusion as his eyes scanned over the paper on top.

“What’s this?” he asked.

He looked back down at his gift, his eyes widening when they landed on the word “adoption”.

“Is this…?” he started, not quite sure how to finish his sentence.

“It’s adoption papers. To legally adopt baby girl. Make her a Harrington,” you finished for him.

He stared at you, blinking. Then he set the box aside, taking your face in his hands. His thumbs stroked your cheeks gently.

“Are you sure?” he whispered.

You saw tears in his eyes. You also saw a smile on his face. He was so happy and that erased any nerves you’d felt before he’d opened it.

“I’ve never been so sure of anything in my life.”

He kissed you then, holding your face firmly in his hands, trying to convey his gratefulness, his happiness, his love, in the single kiss.

As if that hadn’t been enough, he made sure you knew his answer when you two had parted.

“I’d love to adopt her.”

It was the best birthday Steve had ever had.

[heartfullofleeches]

Clown Reader reminds me of those old cartoons that were supposed to teach children stuff and shit. I keep imagining them going to an event about their show and they accidentally come face to face with their yandere, who was been taking photos of them the whole time. While Reader is asking if they came with a child or sibling since they are "a little too old to be here" the wandered is frozen in place as their crush is finally talking and noticing them lol

"Hey there. You're a little older than our usual audience. Babysitting a family member?"

The fan in question freezes in place; tightly clutching their camera and a small piece of paper. They had wondered from the general area to avoid suspicion, but at the same time you stepped away from the meet and greet area to do some walking around; catching them off guard with a sneak attack - and sending them into cardiac arrest.

What do they do? What do they say? You really do smell like pumpkin pie, just like your third episode said, and you're way cuter up close than they could ever have dreamed. In the mass of their fan-crazed hysteria, you sneak a look at the paper.

"What do you have there, friend?"

Their camera was a modern day Polaroid; the snapping as many pictures as possible between intervals of processing time and shoving them in their bag. This page was none other than a small piece of the large collection that they had conjured that afternoon. Smiling, you pull the flower shaped pen from your shirt pocket; the red flags flying over head like arrows.

"For the little one, I'm guessing? Or maybe yourself? No judging here. I'm on break, but at the same time there never really is one from making people smile."

You sign the picture; finishing your signature with a winking smiley face and a wish for a swell day. You hand it back to them; fingers brushing against theirs momentarily. Their weight almost comes too much for their legs to carry as you continue to flash your prized smile. Even with the ring of red paint around them, your lips looked sweeter than you smelled. Maybe even enhanced it. They clear their throat.

"U-uh... well. I'm actually here for the local children's hospital. Do you mind signing a few more? Maybe a dozen... or two?"