#Ichor’s chronicles

[bleedingichorhearts]

𝐌𝐞𝐫𝐌𝐚𝐲: 𝐒𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐤 (𝐒𝐌𝐔𝐓)

𝕬𝖚𝖙𝖍𝖔𝖗: Happy late, late Mother’s Day to all the wonderful mothers out there! Have some time to yourself. :)

𝕿𝖆𝖌𝖌𝖊𝖉: @kit-williams, @egrets-not-regrets, @bispecsual, @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan, @sleepyfan-blog.

TW // SMUT/NSFW, Dubcon, Cervix, Yandere Themes, Goggle Translation.

𝚃𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚜𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗:

Маленький мир - Little World (Russian)

|°𝐌𝐞𝐫𝐌𝐚𝐲 𝐂𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐥𝐞𝐬°| |°ᴛᴀɢ ʟɪꜱᴛ ᴀᴘᴘʟɪᴄᴀᴛɪᴏɴ°| • {𝐂𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧} • {𝐆𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐧 𝐁𝐨𝐢’𝐬} • {𝐗𝐞𝐫𝐱𝐞𝐬}

Pushing off a rock, I hurriedly made my way through the rocky coral. Desperate to leave the red waters of this place. Having been here for far too long for my tastes despite that creatures… adamant argument.

He would block any attempt I would make out of his nest, lowly rumbling at me; scolding me for even to attempting to leave before he would usher me back to his nest. His clawed hands gently but firmly leading me back. His eyes never truly moving away from my form that settles back down in his cave.

It confused me at first. Why would he want to keep me in the grounds of his nest? Were their other predators out there? If there was, I’m sure Spartak eats them for breakfast and I’m sure that he does because I have never seen a creature so… muscular like him; strong and huge even. So I let him lead me back to his nest, getting bored when he leaves to do… whatever he does in the sea. Getting fed up and tired of being stuck in the same place over and over again. What was the reason I was in here anyway?

I honestly don’t remember. I’ve have been here for who knows how long? I’ve been very patient with him as well. Not wanting to… anger such a creature like him with bad manners, but I have a deep feeling that’s what he wants. Not to anger him, but to stay with him. It was obvious on what he was doing. I was no idiot to not notice the early stages of entrapment.

Perhaps, if I attempted to communicate with him he would… change his ways of his acts? It was hopeful thinking with his bulky form looming everywhere every time I glanced at him, but the more I stay put in his nest, the more I get eager to leave when he leaves. The more I just want to claw out from underneath his gaze, his hold. It eventually lead me to spill my thoughts out to him right on a silver platter. Too much built up frustration and emotions settling harshly on my shoulders.

Yet, he has still have yet to coo, growl, snarl, rumble at me through out my frustrations towards him and his confiscating ways. His golden eyes never leaving my own when he rises from the water pool; up and over me. His hand carefully settling on my cheek, it had me fumble my words for a moment.

Perhaps, he did not realize what he was doing was wrong to a base line human? Maybe it was in his culture to have a female hang back and care for the nest while he goes out? Oh, but he should know the deference from his female species and my species, it had to be obvious!

“Маленький мир, if I had known you needed more care, I would have provided you more.” He had spoke after my rant to him. His clawed thumb moving up and down against my cheek. Something I haven’t noticed he was doing until after his words.

“This- this is not just about care Spartak! This is about my freedom!” I argued; whined, placing my hand over his that rested on my cheek. His eyes briefly flicking over to the small action. “I want to explore the waters over your territory. I want to be able to swim with you near the surface of the water. I want to touch the warm sands of the beach. I want to go back to the land.”

His thumb stops running across my cheek then. His golden eyes filling with thoughts; narrowing down at me. I was afraid then I have admitted something I shouldn’t have, but it needed to be said. I wasn’t going to be stuck in his cave forever. It was never the plan to.

“Please, Spartak. I am only human.” I beg up to him. Fighting the urge to look away from his own eyes that give nothing away of what he was thinking. I have spilled now, there is no take backs on what I have said to him.

“…Fine, but some… accommodations will be in set in place, Маленький мир.” He huffed after a while of his eerie silence. His body leaning down to my level. His breath tickling my skin. “I hope we can agree to the terms?”

“If reasonable, yes.” I respond quickly, sudden hope rising in my chest. Not completely aware of his praying eyes and his tongue brushing this teeth.

“Разумно... да.(Reasonable... yes.)” He rumbles, siting still for a moment before he shoots forward, taking me by surprise. My heart jumping at his unexpected suddenness as he lips press up against mine. His teeth nicking at my bottom lip as I gasp. Getting a mouth full of tongue from him.

Putting my hands on his jaw for the support. I groan when his tongue brushes up against his nick on my lip, giving it a little sting. His tongue wrapping around my own before he pulls away, a huff escaping me when he does so. His tongue licking his lips with a slight grin on his face.

“Ты связан со мной.(You're connected to me.)” He rumbles out in a different language I have yet to understand myself. My own tounge licking out my own, wounded lips as he leans forwards again, quietly purring next to my ear. “Нет выхода, маленький мир.(There's no way out, little world.)”

I shake my head, pushing off from another rock. Now was not the time to think about the past, I had a sea creature to evade. I possibly had, maybe a few hours before he notices that I’m gone from his nest. Having left from it right before one of his nightly hunts I have patterned him down on.

“Маленький мир!” I felt the waters and rocks rumble around me, my hands gripping the side of the rock as I breathed more air from my small rebreather more than necessary.

Maybe I had less time than I had thought?

“Я думал, у нас есть соглашение?(I thought we had an agreement?)” I could hear him through the water. His tone very… undeterred, very calm. “Что случилось с нашим соглашением?(What happened to our agreement?)”

“Я сделал что-то не так?(Did I do something wrong?)” I can hear the questioning tone in the language, bubbles coming out of the rebreather as I hurried to at least find a hiding spot from him.“Я тебя обидел?(Have I offended you?)”

“Маленький мир, come out. I know you are there.” It sounded like he had whined, a high pitched ring going through the waters before all seemed quiet again. The swiftness of fish swimming through the water not creating a current. The corals not moving a muscle. Even the water seemed still in this darkened area.

It was too still.

My anxiety to get caught suddenly spikes, my hands desperately working up at the rock above me. Having found a falling cave entrance here just a moment prior to the silence, the stillness. Bubbles taking up my view as my neck and back tingles of being watched. My gut flipping in my stomach.

I gasp when sudden weight is pressed against my back, pinning me to the rocky wall in front of me. Bubbles continuously obstructing my vision as I could feel a hand rank up from the bottom to my neck and through my hair. A rumble pressing up against my back. “Нашел тебя, мой маленький мир.(I found you, my little world.)”

Both of his hand keep me pinned in place from head and waist. His chest pressing up against my back. Rumbling all sorts of vibrations through my body. “Возвращайся в мое гнездо.(Come back to my nest.)”

“Не заставляй меня умолять.(Don't make me beg.)” He grumbled, and It’s like I could hear him in my mind, making me feel all lightheaded that I had thought I was losing my oxygen, and out of panic. I’ve managed to grab ahold of a rock above me, dislodging the cave entrance and slashed it back at Spartak behind me.

His hand claws at my back, tearing at my suit as he rears back in surprise. A hiss coming out of him while I made haste to crawl through the opening of the cave, desperate for multiple things. Desperate to leave the water.

“Маленький мир!” He hisses behind me, my body wiggling through the opening and into the cave with a lucky air pocket inside of it. My body breaching the surface as I scramble for any type of land to take a rest on. My body exhausted from all that panic I have felt in that split moment.

I whine when I swim some more and touch the risen, sandy surface of the cave. That I could stand up on another surface than Spartaks nest. My knees failing me as I splash back down into the thin surface of the water, simply resting there for some sort of comfort; relief. My hand taking off my rebreather from my mouth and tossing it somewhere else in the air pocket.

“Твои действия причиняют мне боль, маленький мир.(Your actions hurt me, little world.)” The creature speaks out loud. The sound of water moving behind me bringing a shiver down my spine. “Тем не менее, я их не понимаю.(However, I don't understand them.)”

“Are you… trying courting me? Showing me your Сила?(Strength?)” He asks, his shadow engulfing my body. “Showing me your confidence and bravery?”

His lips press up against my back, starting at my lower back, just above my cheeks. His hands resting on my cheeks, squeezing them together and thumbing them as his lips slowly trace up my back until he gets to my shoulder blade. His cold, slimy tongue lapping up my wound that he created by his own hands, a low rumbling hum coming out of him. “Такое хрупкое маленькое ��ущество.(Such a fragile little creature.)”

I hiss at him through my teeth, my hands forming into fists. Too exhausted to actually say anything much to this sea monster as my wound stings at his… mouthy actions. My body laying pinned across the sands in this cave as he purrs and a coos at me. His hands sliding gently from my cheeks of my diving suit and down my hip dips. His face nuzzling into the back of my neck “Такой прекрасный маленький мир, ты есть.(Such a beautiful little world, you are.)”

“Всегда полон маленьких секретов.(Always full of little secrets.)” He purrs, his breath fanning against my shoulder. His clawed hand carefully tearing any last piece of suit away from me. Leaving me tired and bare underneath him.

“Spartak.” I whisper his name into the layer of water underneath me, unsure for the reason. Maybe I needed to have something else ground me as well? Maybe I felt like I needed to apologize to him? Maybe… I just said it for it to mean a lot more than it does?

I gasp as this cold slick slides between my folds. Slowly going up and down between them, teasing me. Coating my folds with its slick. A spark of arousal shooting from my stomach to my core.

“Я начну этот процесс.(I'll start this process.)” Spartak hums, rocking his hips slowly. His hand squishing my cheeks together then letting the go and watching them bounce. “Чтобы обеспечить нашу связь.(To ensure our connection.)”

His hands suddenly grip at my thighs and pull me down on him. His cock that was teasing my folds slipping straight through. Brushing up against every single nerve as he sheathed himself to my core. A deep rumble vibrating through his chest as I whine out at the unfamiliar feeling of his cock.

It felt… different, almost silky like. Not so… rough, dry, wet? I couldn’t tell if I should be gripping the sands or not, it was so different than what I have expected this to feel like. Oh, but the girth of him was undeniably pleasurable. How his cock did not leave space inside of my pulsing walls untouched.

He thrusts once and that has me griping at my palms. A barely restrained mewl being said into the water as he thrusts again and again. My body rocking with his thrusts. His chest brushing up against my back again, pressing down on me, keeping me in place.

“Это то, что тебе было нужно?(Is that what you needed?)” Spartak hummed, nuzzling into the back of my shoulder, giving it a kiss. His chest vibrating against my back. “To have claimed you as mine?”

He groans when my walls tighten around him, pulling him in. His teeth gently nibbling at my shoulder as he shifts his angle, gaining a cry of his name. A shock of pleasure running through my body.

“Khorne, Это то, что тебе было нужно.(That’s what you needed.)” He mumbles into my skin, his that same spot again and again. Slowly picking up pace. “Чтобы я претендовал на тебя.(For me to claim you.)”

“To have you as my mate.” His tongue laps over my wound again, do doubt needing more… care to it with all his strong movements inside of me. Mewls and moans escaping my lips. “Такая нуждая мелочь.(Such a needy little thing.)”

He thrust a bit more harsher now. Seemingly desperate to hear my endless cry’s of his name. To have me bounce forward to he could drag me back down into his cock that infinitely touched all the right places. Making me feel like some jellyfish underneath him. My thought process only being enraptured with him and the pleasure he brought me.

“Spartak!” I cry out louder, my walls tightening around his cock. His teeth latching onto my shoulder, breaking the skin as he moans out, pushing himself to the hilt. The tip of his cock pressing up against my cervix, pushing his tip through it as his cock twitches inside of me. My mind going numb at the feeling of his hot cum flooding my insides.

Weirdly, with his cock at my cervix never brought any pain to me like it should have. Instead it brought me unforgettable pleasure to shoot all my nerves out, a chocked cry of his name ripping through my mouth. Pleasure filled tears running down my cheeks and mixing with the water below me. I couldn’t even think except how his cock filled me up to the brim, leaking around his cock and dripping down to the waters below.

Spartak feels how his Маленький мир goes limp underneath him, submitting to him. His teeth still latched onto her shoulder as he purrs at her submission. His hips rocking into her walls that gone slick with his seed. Yet, she still pulls at him and his pulsing cock, still feeding her womb with his seed, his mark.

He rocks his hips forward more, a low growl leaving his throat. His Маленький мир whining and shivering underneath him as he pumps more of his mark in her.

He acknowledges the fact he could turn her with his teeth latched into her shoulder like this, but he doesn’t really feel any concern for it. If she doesn’t turn she’ll still be with him either way; land or water. If she turned out to be a creature like him? All the more better to keep her by his side; in the nest with him. To admire and care for his Маленький мир.

“Такой хороший маленький мир.(Such a good little world.)” He groans, his arms locking himself around her smaller body. His mouth coming off her shoulder as he licks at it, savoring her taste between skin and blood before nuzzling into her neck. Inhaling her scent that shifts on him as he purrs into her ear. “You will forever be mine, Маленький мир.”

His маленький мир only whines and mewls up at him when he starts up again. Making sure this his mark took place wherever she try’s to run.

“Мой, мой, мой.(Mine, mine, mine.)”

[riiov]

LOCAL DEVIL

[1stchoir]

tags.

[tenuuchlegch]

artemis is pouting, hidden below a bench outside. there was a loud noise - probably an accidental one, but it scared her nonetheless. when her eyes spot ananke, she frowns. ' there was a loud sound. '

𓆙 Due to her frequent visits here as a child with father, Ananke knew Elpis like the back of own hand. Thus when a certain familiar was reported missing, seat of Azem knew of all the best hiding places one might find her in. Older woman's ability to peer into past and future events also made matters a lot easier, and soon aggravated young lady was found.

- When it came to anything which involved a certain convocation member's wife, Ananke was hesitant to directly intervene. However it was her duty as Azem to traverse star and lend people a helping hand. It could be rather frustrating, at certain points. Nevertheless, for this job traveler deduced she could simply bring wayward individual back to caretakers then leave once task was finished. However, things took some unexpected turn when the loud, disgruntled moo of a minotaur bull being brought in for testing pierced air; startling more human-like creature. So much for approaching quietly. Opting to put on an unperturbed look, she then smiled at the girl.

- "Yes, that would be the sound of another unhappy minotaur," Ananke explained, before taking a knee to lower herself for familiar. "If I may inquire though, why are you in this area of Elpis? Your caretakers are searching everywhere for you, you know."

[saunne]

HSR Theory - Bailu is set up to fail by her Preceptors

or "we may have an ongoing political overthrow attempt"

Okay, I'm relatively new to HSR but I've been going through lore pages up and down for almost 8 hours now and I need to talk about it.

I started by looking into Dan Heng lore (obviously), which of course led me to the whole Dan Feng + Blade + Jing Yuan + High Cloud Quintet etc mess... and you get the general idea. And there are several things that struck me as odd.

And these things make me think that Bailu, the adorable little Vidyadhara supposed to inherit the title "Imbibitor Lunae" formerly carried by Dan Feng/Dan Heng is currently set up to fail by the same Preceptors supposed to guide her.

A bit of Vidyadhara politics

Each ship of the Xianzhou Alliance has at the head of its Vidyadhara community a High Elder, a Vidyadhara who has developed "more draconic features such as horns and a tail" (Only special Vidyadhara can turn into dragons). They are responsible for the well being of their people (Source).

Those High Elders, when young, are tutored by Preceptors, senior Vidyadharas. Bailu is currently under their tutelage, while Dan Feng was tutored by a certain Lady Xuepu.

However, while the High Elders are the rulers, the Preceptors still have some political clout :

In the case where the high elder cannot lead, the Council of Preceptors assume governance in their place : "The Preceptor Council is a stop-gap measure for when the High Elder position is vacant or governance is untenable" (Source)

The Preceptors have the power to strip the current high elder of their name and power and elect a new one in their place should the circumstances deem fit to do so.

Imbibitor Lunae

This title belonged to Dan Feng / Dan Heng before what was named the "Imbibitor Lunae Sedition" the exact details of which are still unknown.

After the Sedition, Dan Feng was captured, and his punishment was carried out: he went through the rebirth process and his subsequent incarnation, Dan Heng, was held in the Shackling Prison for a period of time before being exiled from the Luofu. 

This leaves the seat of High Elder vacant, and thus puts the Preceptors in position of power.

However, Imbibitor Lunae's position is particularly important within the Luofu, as they are the ones tasked with watching over the seal of the Ambrosium Arbor.

Their mastery of cloudhymn magic (Dan Heng's shown ability to split Scalegorge Sea in half) is obviously an important part of that and Bailu showed some talent in cloudhymn magic : "since the high elder has already demonstrated her powers of calling lightning and commanding the waters" (Source).

Bailu's character stories also tell us directly that she is meant to inherit the position of Imbibitor Lunae : "Only after her coming-of-age ceremony will the Preceptors confer the title of Imbibitor Lunae on her."

So, what's wrong in this whole story ?

First Problem : Dragon Transmutation

Jing Yuang is the first to tell us about the "dragon transmutation", a certain power that Dan Feng supposedly possessed that should have passed to Bailu, but didn't.

By logical association, we can assume that this "dragon transmutation" has something to do with the "Transmutation Arcanum": "It is apparent that either her dragon heart is in some way damaged, or the "Transmutation Arcanum" has not been carried through in full."

In the Preceptor Assembly Chronicle Fragment, it is said : "Our solemn responsibility is to confiscate the Transmutation Arcanum and the Orb of Abysm from Dan Feng to uphold the continuation of the Ichor Lines."

Ichor :

The Vidydharas are called Long's Scion because they are their descendants : "It is commonly thought that the source of Vidyadharas' immortality is different from that of Xianzhou natives and Foxians. The Vidyadhara race did not gain immortality from the Plagues Author. Instead, as the descendants of Long the dragon, the majesty of the Permanence flows in their blood." (Source)

However, the two objects mentioned are important, because we learn their use in Bailu's character story : "All past high elders, after receiving the "Orb of Abysm" and the "Transmutation Arcanum", will re-experience the events of their dragon ancestors' lives in dreams. [...] Although such dreams tend to be fragmentary and difficult to understand or interpret, it is after all the only way our kind have of coming close to the Permanence."

Meaning: The High Elders can dream of heir ancestor's life, Long's life, tand thus come closer to their Path, The Permanence.

Also, there is another instance of "transmutation" present in the Vidyadhara's history : "Teacher says that back then, we could use our powers derived from Long to change the form of any creature, as easily as children playing with modeling clay." (Source)

Imbibitor Lunae is known to be a title passed down from generation to generation and there's a strong possibility that it's always been Dan Feng and his previous incarnations, given the statue looking very much like Dan Heng (March even asks if it's of our brother) that we see at Scalegorge: "High Elder Yubie, bearer of the Azure Dragon's legacy, spreading clouds and rain to bless all living souls. Unstunted by 90 rebirths, just as the Alliance remains strong after 300 years." (Source)

This could indicate that the goal of the High Elders could be to recover access to this power granted by Long (which could have disappeared with Long, which would have made the Vidyadhara's home world uninhabitable)… or even to transform one of their High Elder in a new Aeon of Permanence.

Second Problem : Bailu's Power was Sealed

Bailu's particularly draconic appearance is important, given that she has both horns and a tail. Which is an extremely obvious symbol of her power as Vidyadhara (Only special Vidyadhara can turn into dragons).

However, we learn that this power was sealed : "I have instructed one of our finest crafters to make the Dragonhorn Pilory to shackle her tail, to prevent a loss of control over her powers and a repeat of the disaster of the Sedition of Imbibitor Lunae."

But if High Elders are expected to commune with Long's Path, it seems like a terribly counterproductive decision.

Third Problem : Bailu's Growth

Then comes the problem of her growth. As indicated somewhere above, the title of Imbibitor Lunae will only be entrusted to her by the Preceptors when she comes at age.

Except that Bailu is not growing :

"It is the same as regards my own health. It is now six or seven years since I first sprouted horns, but I have not grown taller in that time." (Source)

"Still no physical change in the high elder. She has not grown." (Source)

Which leads to the following statement : "The gist of my reply was that Lady Bailu is still young and in need of the assistance of the Preceptors." Preceptors who, as a reminder, are in power as long as the seat of High Elder is vacant.

This lack of growth is not considered to be of concern "as slow development is common among Vidyadharas", but I'm just going to take the opportunity to slip an idea. I'm sure you've seen Dan Heng's theory of de-aging rather than reincarnating properly ? I will make a post dedicated to this whole de-aging thing but one thing to say :

And if it was not Dan Heng who had rejuvenated, but Bailu who was prevented from growing up ?

Fourth Problem : Preceptors Monitoring

Bailu herself gives us her feelings about the way the Preceptors control her and we can say that she is not really happy about it : "I am sure it is because I have those horrid Preceptors watching over me all the day long. If a child does not get out to run about, how will it grow tall? Healers who read this case study, when will you release me? I am not some truly wicked ne'er-do-well. Why am I so closely guarded?" (Source)

However, there is one sentence that strikes me even more strongly as the Preceptors are deliberately setting up Bailu for failure :

"Are you trying to waste my talents?" (Source)

According to Jing Yuan Characters Story III and IV : Dan Feng, the most recent Imbibitor Lunae, joined the High-Cloud Quintet and together they accomplished many feats: drove out the Borisin invading Thalassa, destroyed the alliance between the Houyhnhnms and Wingweavers in the Abundance Axis, rescued the Xianzhou Yuque and defeated the living planet Ketu Mirage, becoming one of the most prolific Vidyadhara of his time.

While Bailu on the other hand seems to be guarded very closely, restricted to her activities as a healer with her powers sealed and the impossibility of inheriting her title unless she undergoes a growth spurt, which is still long overdue.

Final Problem : Preceptor Assembly Chronicle Fragment

I don't think it can be any obvious than that, honestly. It is said clearly in the text.

"Therefore, I propose that the Luofu Vidyadhara should temporarily move away from the rule of the high elder and instead submit to rule by the council of Preceptors, to ensure [Missing]"

"Xuepu's message rings loud and clear. She wants to take advantage of [Missing] being cut off to completely replace the High Elder position with the Preceptor Council."

"I am in agreement with you. The High Elder system is an outdated one, handing over power to a single chosen one. This has caused countless tragedies in the history of our kind."

So we have at least two Preceptors, Xuepu and Fenghuan, who actively wish to overthrow the solitary rule of the High Elders and instead institute "power to the people" (or in this case the Preceptors).

And with the power vacuum caused by Dan Heng's exile and the fact that his possible successor, Bailu, might not have been born yet/still a tiny child…

Yeah, I think we're seeing a discreet ongoing political overthrow.

Addendum : The Ten-Lords may be involved in the whole scheme (as well as Jing Yuan, which puts certain things said to Dan Heng in a whole different light)

"The elder's voice is youthful, but it sounds weary and emotionless" : The term elder here could refer as a Preceptor instead of a High Elder since they are the "senior" Vidyadharas. I have the feeling that it could be the same people talking with "Unfeeling Voice".

Also, "if you can complete this I can assure you a seat in the council of Preceptors" ?

PLEASE.

[asmaroth]

Cult of the Lamb: All Hidden Lore

i've seen some folks in the tags talking about the lack of discussion of the newly added lore to the game. i figured it was because no one's collected and posted all of them all on tumblr yet, so i took the time to compile and transcribe all the Tablets and Notes into one post.

these are in order of Tablets I-X, Haro's/the meat room's note, Monch's room's note, and Lost Messages I-III. i have transcribed them exactly as they are written, special capitalizations and all. feel free to use as reference!

Ancient Tablets (Found on Crusades)

Ancient Tablet I

Writings from a time long passed.

"I meant only to survive, and yet she, feathered hand of Great Ones gone, has seen me to be worthy. Oh, First Gods, guide me! I devote myself to you, wholly, body and soul. I will strike down dissent. I will cull doubt. I will nourish this Crown and be worthy of this power. In blood, I swear."

Ancient Tablet II

Writings from a time long passed.

"Great Ones, I find fragments of your power across these vast lands. The blades once gripped by your mighty fists, the tears once fallen from your all-seeing eyes, the ichor that runs through the very veins of the earth... I seek your understanding. I prostrate myself before you. I vow that those who will not serve in their life will serve with their death instead."

Ancient Tablet III

Writings from a time long passed.

"Simple things... silly, almost... creatures seek protection in my shadow, pour faith into my soul and by their devotion I am changed. I was like them, once..."

Ancient Tablet IV

Writings from a time long passed.

"I used to think them strange, these three feathered beasts, unworn and unweathered by the passage of time. To be keepers of Godly tools, and yet not be tempted to Godliness themselves - do they not hunger as we do?

Now, wisened in age, I understand. Hatched beneath the First, they crave no power, seek no other fulfillment, for it is not in their nature. And it is by nature that we must abide."

Ancient Tablet V

Writings from a time long passed.

"My pilgrimage has lead me thus, to the caverns of a Godly skull, remnants of a Great One now decaying into earth. The air here smells sweet, the soil rich and dark... I hear whispers, I feel watched, yet there is naught around, just these strange, small mushrooms, their spots almost like eyes... but that's impossible...?"

Ancient Tablet VI

Writings from a time long passed.

"I had not seen her in some dozen years, perhaps a score, perhaps a hundred. She is changed, alarmingly so, the mutilation of her body naught compared to the madness taking root in her mind. Her kin were indifferent. 'Twas foreseen, the card reader said. I asked, what of her duty? What of the Crowns? What of her very nature?

And the smith answered: it is lost."

Ancient Tablet VII

Writings from a time long passed.

"I have lived long, too long for simple memory and so I must continue to chronicle these histories. Followers rise, bloom, and die, like so much clover on the ground, and my troublesome peers, Gods by a right no longer divine, rise and fall like tides cut free from the moon. One came to my temple, young and ambitious and thirsty for war. I dismissed them. I will not abide by such blasphemy."

Ancient Tablet VIII

Writings from a time long passed.

"Whispers reach my temple. Gods fallen, shrines crumbled, Followers taken, and Crowns simply gone. Our numbers are beginning to dwindle. I do not fear. I will swing my righteous axe, draw my zealous sword, and know that I walk with the blessing of the First at my brow. Heresy shall not be tolerated in these Lands."

Ancient Tablet IX

Writings from a time long passed.

"Yngya cannot be found, and the leaves change no more. 'Tis clear, now, that none shall survive this purging. The Owl has chosen a different tact, one I cannot condone; for regardless of what they threaten, I shall never relinquish my beliefs. They call me the greatest of fanatics, and perchance this is true: for I would rather perish than sacrifice my devotion. Great Ones, I am yours eternally."

Ancient Tablet X

Writings from a time long passed.

"He of havoc, he of blight; she of hunger, they of might. He that lays a soul to rest; five remain of hundreds blessed."

Haro/Meat Room's Note

Offering to the Owl

A prayer to the Hunter.

"Great Hunter, we write this prayer and leave this offering in the hopes you will grant us triumph in our hunt. We vow to take no more than we need, and leave the brooding and the young. May we be swift and silent as you, Hunter."

Monch's Room's Note

Ripped Note

Written in fear, covered in dirt.

"We've been hiding for days. I'm hungry, but I'm too scared to leave this place, though the earth no longer shakes. I didn't know the Bishops could bleed. The fifth... we dare not speak his name. Soon we won't remember it. But he waits. He will always wait."

Lost Messages (Found in Graveyards)

Lost Message I

A torn letter, stained with blood.

"Found a herd. Taken care of. Let the Worm know I seek the next."

Lost Message II

A torn letter, stained with blood.

"One fled my blade. I will find it. The Bishops need not concern themselves. I do as I am told, and only as I am told."

Lost Message III

A torn letter, stained with blood.

"I found the last, hidden deep in the Lands. It followed me, silent, to the ritual grounds. When my task is at last complete, I will bury it with the others."

this is all the lore for now until they possibly add more. enjoy!

[dawnlotus-draws]

LOOK UPON THEM. MY BELOVEDS. my player characters I play the most often. This isn’t even close to all of them. Anyway.

Transcript to the text image and Non transparent art version below the cut ^^

Just 6 of my character collection I fit on a page.. I play so many TTRPGs all week it’s crazy.

Please. If you want to know anything about them, send me asks :3

They will also be on ARTFIGHT so if you will be on the battlefield stop by and say hello!!! :D

I apologize for the Alt Text being a mess, mobile is fighting me on formatting right now, but here the transcript to the image below!

From left to right

Name : Alice Adalhaidus | TTRPG : Vampire the Masquerade | Chronicle : New Orleans by Night | Party name : (work in progress) | Clan : Toreador | Occupation : Cabernet owner | Age : 130 yrs | Personality : ‘Judgemental’ | Summary word(s) : Gaslight Gatekeep Girlboss

Name : Eloise Fulva | TTRPG : Pathfinder | Campaign : Cityfinder | Party name : Corwyn Office | Class : Barbarian/Healer | Occupation : Grade 5 Fixer | Age : 50 yrs | Personality : Stoic | Summary Word : Diplomat

Petra Ichor | TTRPG : DnD | Campaign : One shots | Party : N/A | Class : Grave Cleric | Occupation : Guide | Age : 106 yrs | Personality: Apathetic | Summary word : Puppet

Sparrow Temerity | TTRPG : DnD | Campaign : The Bounciful Band | Party : The Bounciful Band | Class : Fighter | Occupation : Tank/‘wallet’ | Age : 30 yrs | Personality : Optomistic | Summary word : Unlucky

Grelinda Teakettle | TTRPG : DnD | Campaign : One shots | Party : N/A | Class : Fighter (6) Rogue (2) | Occupation : Sniper | Age : 21 yrs | Personality : Caffeinated Teenager | Summary word(s) : Hero in training

Xiao Hua Ya (小花呀) | TTRPG : Call of Cthulhu | Campaign : London and Literature | Party name : Edith’s house for Misfits | Class : Recon | Occupation : Orphan | Age : 14 yrs | Personality : Nosy | Summary word : Gremlin

[medusanova]

Finally getting around to sending this prompt: I'd love to see a mash-up / fusion of Fate and The Shadowhunter Chronicles. Particularly in the context of Sky and Riven being parabatai and how that works in the Fate universe. 👀 (or any of the characters as parabatai would be v cool too- like, Bloom and Aisha maybe?)

There is nothing I love more than the complexities of a parabatai bond — and I could never pass up on a sky/riven moment, especially when I found these as inspiration..

It’s been three years since Sky laid eyes on an Elapid demon. Not since the portal to the dark realm had been closed for good.

Or so they thought.

For a few seconds, it’s the only thing that takes up his vision — a swarm of scaled creatures crawling around Alfea, neither serpent nor insect, their jagged claws buried into the spines of his fellow specialists and tearing them to pieces — before the rune on his neck tingles and the image fades.

Just in time for Sky to duck and roll away from the snap of its teeth.

Amber-colored venom drips to the ground, sizzling into the cobblestone where Sky had been frozen in place just seconds ago.

The demon’s cobra-shaped head turns in his direction, red eyes bleeding violence and hunger, only to stumble back with a piercing shriek when an arrow gets embedded into its neck.

“That sword in your hand? It’s to defend yourself from things like that,” a low voice taunts from behind him. Sky turns in time to see Riven aim another marked arrow, sending a shockwave of an angry yowl through the village when the sharp tip grazes the top of the demon’s head. “Would be bloody helpful if you used it right about now.”

The sardonic words make him smile despite himself, sending the unsettling flashback to the back of his mind. Shaking his head in amusement, he pulls the seraph blade from its scabbard, letting it illuminate his hand with a soft, divine glow.

Running toward the demonic creature, he arcs through the air, dodging a taloned arm, and slices through one of the demon’s legs — just in time to sidestep another one. Taking advantage of his crouched position, Sky pierces his blade through the underside of its belly. It explodes in a shower of burning ichor.

He turns to face his partner. “Two!” he calls out, breathless from the headiness of adrenaline.

“One and a half,” Riven shoots back with a smirk. He plants an arrow into the head of the third and final Elapid and doesn’t even stop to make sure it’s fully banished to the demon realm when he stows his bow away, strutting in Sky’s direction. Cocky bastard. “I helped you with the first one.”

The lightness in Riven’s voice, however, doesn’t match the intensity of his eyes as they absorb every detail about Sky. Gaze determined and evergreen. So intense it never fails to feel like Riven’s hands are slowly checking over every inch of him.

Like it always does, Sky’s heart pounds against the prison of his rib cage at the sight, sending a pulse of warmth down his spine.

It took years for Sky to understand that look. That unwavering stare. Intended to painstakingly ensure the soul bound to Riven’s was uninjured, unharmed. But once he did, once Sky allowed himself to feel the full weight of Riven’s attention, well, it’s been a steady descent since.

Sky does his best to shrug it away as they head back to the institute, tucked away behind a First World trinket shop in the middle of Blackbridge. “But I was the one to kill it.”

“I knew your hero complex would go to your head one day, I just didn’t expect it to be so soon,” Riven teases, bumping his bicep — inked with the rune identical to the one on his neck — into Sky.

“Weren’t you the one who told Silva we didn’t need a team for this patrol?”

Riven scoffs. “Like I could’ve predicted an Elapid nest? I know a higher level of demon activity has been reported, but where the fuck did those even come from?”

It’s a good question, actually. They weren’t even supposed to be on a mission today, just an ordinary patrol. One they’ve done countless times without encountering Elapid-level demons. It’s relatively uneventful most of the time, but today they stumbled upon a swarm of them for the first time in years and Sky—

He thinks of lifeless eyes, of blood-soaked grass squelching beneath his boots as he surveys the loss of his fellow warriors. Of the cries of pain and sorrow pervading through Alfea.

“Sky!” Riven warns urgently, pulling him out of his daze.

His body responds before his mind can even process the words, flattening to the ground as a demon flies through the air just a few feet above him. Sky’s palms sting from the cut of the cobblestones when he clambers to his feet, scanning the area around them for the nearest source of danger.

An Elapid demon comes at him seconds later, swooping with a visceral screech. Sky grunts as he blocks its leg with his seraph blade and pushes it back, his teeth gritting together with effort. From his periphery, he sees another leg loom over him, ready to spear through his body, only for it to get pierced with a marked arrow, exploding in a splash of ichor.

The demon howls and Sky strikes, swinging his sword through its neck. Black-green blood splatters onto him, biting at his exposed skin, but the thrill of killing the demon, of sending it back to the hell it came from, is much more powerful.

He turns to face Riven with a grimace. “Thanks for having my back.”

“Always,” Riven replies easily, and the smile he sends Sky is devastating, entirely out of place on a battlefield. “Except for when it’s Silva. Demons I can handle. Silva’s lectures? You’re on your own, mate.”

Sky’s about to tell him that Silva’s lectures are pretty much exclusively reserved for Riven when he hears an all-too-familiar scuttling sound. He barely has time to lift his sword when there’s a blur of movement, a sickening squelch, and—

Riven screams.

Sky’s body is hollow as he stares at the claw that’s run straight through Riven’s thigh, blood glistening on its black shell. It starts to shudder as though it’s about to jerk upwards – three, two, one, – and tear Riven in half.

Sky moves without thinking, spinning past his parabatai to sever the leg off at the back, thrusting his sword through the demon’s belly with an anguished, vengeful roar. He doesn’t even care to watch it be banished to the demon realm, and just turns to catch Riven as he collapses backwards, sinking to his knees. Two bound souls on the ground.

“Always the bloody white knight…” he gasps, sounding half out of it already. Sky fumbles for Riven’s hand, his fingers sliding in between his. “A lot of blood, Sky. It’s- my thigh. There’s too much blood.”

“I know,” he says, catching his voice before it cracks. “It’s okay, just- just let me get my stele, okay? We need a healing rune and-“

“N-no. Won’t work. Too much blood.” Riven exhales a short, mirthless laugh. “I don’t- it’s not going to work.”

“It will, okay? You’re going to be fine. Where I go you go, remember?”

“Sky don’t... I’m fine.”

But it’s not. It’s not fucking fine because Sky can feel their parabatai bond weakening by the second. Can feel the life-force that constantly exists within him, the axis of his whole world, fading away.

Riven just rests there on his chest. His breaths shallow, his fingers trembling against Sky’s neck, and his eyes trained on Sky’s face. He flinches when something wet drips onto his cheek, but he still doesn’t look away.

And Sky knows, he knows that a healing rune on Riven’s body isn’t going to be enough to fix him.

He knows that there are some wounds that are fatal wounds — heads crushed by stone, stomachs pierced by swords, hearts stopped with lightning — that are just too big, too permanent to heal. A femoral artery ripped apart by a demon is one of them.

But there’s nothing in this realm, nothing in this world or any world, that can stop him from reaching out with a bloodstained hand to draw one on anyway.

It’s not his best. He’s too shaky, too frenzied to make it his best. The lines aren’t sharp or precise and he can’t even breathe much magic into it like he usually would—

But then the rune glows. Steadily brighter and stronger than he’s ever seen. An iridescent blaze of light that beams through the village and nearly blinds everyone in it.

When it fades, any remaining demons are gone — expelled in a series of cataclysms that reverberate through Sky’s knees — and Riven has stopped bleeding. There’s a spiked claw on the ground next to his thigh and the skin where his wound should be is whole, unmarred. As if he wasn’t just on the brink of death. His puddle of blood is nothing more than a rusted stain that’s faded into his black gear.

Sky feels their parabatai bond flare against Riven’s palm on his neck, red-hot and electric. The rune on his bicep grows as hot on Sky’s chest as the liquid fire in his gaze. He breathes Sky’s name, hushed and reverent.

They haven’t looked away from each other.

Sky doesn’t say anything in reply. He just stares back at Riven, droplets of sweat and pain still caught in his lashes. His chest feels warm, his body heavy. Like he could stay here forever. Riven held close to chest, their feelings burning like heavenly fire through their bond, the rest of the world a universe away.

Sky and Riven. Just Sky and Riven.

There’s a sharp crunch of boots and Silva falls to a crouch beside Sky, startling them both out of their reverie.

“What,” he says in complete bewilderment, “the fuck was that?”

[ladyhindsight]

Over the course of reading the books, it has become apparent that different editions have gone under several revisions. The original City of Bones, when reflected against the changes that have been made over the years to the manuscript, highlights how poor and haphazard the world-building in what would eventually become The Shadowhunter Chronicles was. 

I’ve compared two different e-book versions of City of Bones, one of which appears to be the original text and one that I frankly have no idea which exact edition it is since my physical 2015 repackaged copy also varies from its contents. The left one is the supposedly original and the right one is the newer edition. Tap/click for bigger images since the text is pretty small for being compared side by side. There’s quite a few.

Magnus’ skin color.

Revamping the rune business. The unnamed permanent rune placed on dominant hand that lends extra skill with weapons is turned into the Voyance rune that aids their Sight.

For which the part highlighted with blue is deleted completely. Additionally Jace explaining his hunch about Clary’s Sight has become more rational. This underlines how little the concept of the Sighted was developed in the beginning.

In the long run it wouldn’t have made sense that no mundane in a century was Sighted.

All the stories are true is added.

Added punctuation and Isabelle’s Voyance rune. The original did not make sense either not to highlight any unnamed permanent runes that Isabelle might have/has.

Clary asks Isabelle did Jace bring her to the Institute. In the original, Hodge comes off as furious over Clary messing up the carpet with ichor and blood. This is missing in the newer edition.

Don’t know what is wrong with the “hedge-witch.” Also additional explanation on differences between warlocks and witches.

In the 2007 version the Gray Book is mentioned when Magnus shows a copy of one to Clary in order to jog her memory. In the newer edition, the Covenant Marks are replaced by Marks from the Gray Book.

Corrected probably because the timeline did not originally match.

This is a pretty big one. The original thought was that some random warlock summoned the Angel. Jonathan Shadowhunter as a concept most likely didn’t exist yet.

Added explanation on the Clave.

Relying on my memory and a quick search of the document, Iron Sisters were also not mentioned in the original text. Also the seraph blades were already named, which later on wouldn’t make sense as they just call a random name to activate the blade anyway (though Jace does use Sanvi and Sansanvi later on in both editions).

Changes made to the drawing of runes.

Jace explains to Clary how the Forsaken are made by placing a lot powerful runes on people who don’t have Shadowhunter blood. He also tells that one rune will only burn, which will be later proven wrong since the Starkweather changeling dies from one rune in TID. Hence the change, that even one rune might end up killing an ordinary human.

Concept of the Forsaken revamped in the sense that why the hell would any Downworlder be able to even use Nephilim runes??

Part of Jace and Madame Dorothea’s conversation deleted.

The concept of a “Control” being trashed. Wards added.

We’ve gone over this before. Pangborn and Blackwell were never meant to be warlocks, but it is confusing that Blackwell is purple. This part of the description was deleted, though his later appearance (in the newer edition) still describes him becoming “darker purple” which would mean he was purple in the first place.

I don’t know why this was deleted. Shadowhunters don’t have dental so I guess they don’t sharpen their teeth either.

Myths/Stories

Earlier in the book Jace tells Alec: “When I found her, she was lying on the floor in a pool of blood with a dying demon practically on top of her. I watched as it vanished. If she didn’t kill it, who did?” The original includes this, so it is strange that there would even be “a dead Ravener” when they leave no bodies behind. 

Simon’s dislike of cats is deleted because he has a cat called Yossarian. Clary bumps into it in City of Ashes.

Basically this whole scene which didn’t make much sense to begin with. Mentioned earlier here and here.

The whole “Mortal Cup mostly working on children” angle is omitted and the concept of Ascension revamped. Also the concept of Ascension by that name did not exist.

Same continues here.

In the original text, Jace’s ring is first mentioned in the third chapter when Jace waves at Clary in Java Jones:

“She stared at Jace as she thought it, and he raised his left hand to wave at her. A ring glittered on a slim finger. He got to his feet and began walking, unhurriedly, toward the door. Clary’s lips parted in surprise. He was leaving, just like that.”

The next time it is mention in chapter 10:

“Jace looked down at his hands. They were slim and careful hands, the hands of an artist, not a warrior. The ring she had noticed earlier flashed on his finger. She would have thought there  would have  been  something feminine about  a  boy wearing a ring, but there wasn’t. The ring itself was solid and heavy-looking, made of a dark burned-looking silver with a pattern of stars around the band. The letter W was carved in to it.”

In the revised edition, the ring is first mentioned in the chapter 9, the part that is highlighted with blue. Unlike in the original text, Jace’s ring is not mentioned in the third chapter:

“She stared at Jace as she thought it, and he raised his left hand to wave at her. He got to his feet and began walking, unhurriedly, toward the door. Clary’s lips parted in surprise. He was leaving, just like that.”

Like. Why? The whole sentence is deleted.

Isabelle corrected to Alec because it was Alec who said it, so it was an error in the original version.

Vampire drinking habits revised. Yet human subjugates remain illegal, they only get to drink once and not keep them around.

Magnus’ description changed.

This part of the dialogue deleted.

Witches/Warlocks

My 2015 physical copy also includes Gregor’s ashes, but the e-book has changed this scene so that vampires do not have the habit of turning into bats and dust.

My copy also includes Clary’s musings about ugly vampires which are deleted from the revised version.

This part made me question which version the newer revision is because my 2015 physical copy has the same line as here the original one and lacks the added line of Alec looking horribly ashamed.

Probably changed because why would Clary be expected to travel in any other world than theirs? Especially since Jace has told her only demons are capable of interdimensional travel. Also added attraction to Clary.

Again the “Control” being trashed.

This part of Jace’s words deleted.

And so this as well.

Added greater demon poison so it’s not just any demon poison as the original text led you to believe.

The explanation about Jace’s Wayland/Morgenstern ring is completely changed to cover up the plot hole it created in the original version.

This has also been discussed already.

Rather reflective of the mindset at the time of writing this. Girls be gossiping, indeed.

These are the ones I noticed. I’m still pretty unsure how many revisions the writing has actually gone through and whether my e-book is the latest version of City of Bones. But quite a lot has been changed.

[dyrewrites]

In Honor of WiP Wednesday

And my sad ass not actively working on anything...

Here are all the things what I've planned to write, and have written, because it is my list of all my things (including the terrible way I mark things for what stage they're in).

Word counts are rounded up, and not exact (because I don't care).

A list is handy when you feel you've not done anything, you can look at it and go, "I wrote how many novels this year? No wonder I am tired."

WIPs

*In Progress(needs actual prose down, not just notes) **Drafted (there's an ending and maybe we're reading it over but no edits made yet) ***Revising (actively making changes to the draft) ****Editing (changes made, now we're fixing typos and grammar) $Published (it is done, bitch, stop touching it)

Children of Mar books 1-4

****Weald and Wen (180k)

Wake and Glaer

Flicker and Din

Breath and Heart

Mar Sidestories (?)

Familial Ichor

Lady's Song and Shield

The Siblings

*Heart of Rot

A Study in Stitches

Tale of Morne tales 1-3

***Pale Blood (140k)

*Light Thieves

*Wish

Morne Sidestories (?)

Of Death and Wishes

War for the Slums

Silenced Hearts

Bloodhound Agency Volumes 1-?

**The Case of the Broken Vampire (170k)

The Case of the Bloody Message

The Case of the Mistaken Identity

The Case of the Malignant Mistress

The Case of the Mooning Werewolf

The Case of the Unfaltering Family

Bloodhound Sidestories/Tie-ins

**Before Deluca (200k)

*Yes, Mistress

Chronicles of Ash 1-?

*Notes in the Undersong

Novellas

$In Fog (25k)

$Come, My Pretty (17k)

Game Night

Short Stories

$In the Marrow (4k)

$Don’t Look (7k)

$The Portrait (3k)

$Can’t You See Me? (2k)

$Snowblind (1.5k)

*Got Your Nose

*Breathe

Beneath the Skin

*That's Not Me

*The Roommate

*Tag, You’re It

Undersong

Stand-alone Novels

*Gravedust

*Ruddy Cheeks 

The Wish Thief

*Mr. Friendly

[llaberration]

Coyne's Chronicles: Shadow Over Yfiria- Chapter 31

A horrible, bubbling growl seemed to vibrate through the ground beneath their feet as thick, viscous mud lapped up over the edges of the split where the earth had opened up.

“Get them out of here,” hissed Fez to Heric, his black shape already on the move to get away from the edge.

Heric, shaking off his initial fear reaction, swiftly headbutted Iewan in the back, “GO, GO! RUN!” he shouted, shoving Alan, starting to run with them, nudging them to get them moving.

Coyne followed Fez's lead, sticking close to the dragon, trying not to slip on the sickly, red and green ichor that was lapping over the edge of the now unstable bog. “We should help them...” he began to say, but Fez whipped his head around with an angry hiss that told Coyne in no uncertain terms that his suggestion was not going to be heard, and he followed like a scolded puppy.

The shape, the creature, whatever it was, lunged for the side of the bog and began working to heave itself out, its large body heavy with muck and its shape indistinguishable. It was certainly not the only quilled creature down there, as only a relatively moderate patch of the ground had torn up, and Coyne could still see quills to both sides still beneath the ground, rattling and shaking aggressively with the movement, then starting to suck down and disappear in patches as their owners went deeper to move. He could see the ground starting to bulge and rise in several places with movement beneath, and he gulped nervously, “I think there's more coming up...”

“Don't look at them,” replied Fez, his tone urgent. “Do not look. You have one job now. ONE JOB or this was all for nothing. Now stick close to me and try not to fall in.”

The two of them worked their way delicately around the edge of the still-collapsing pit, being careful not to fall in, as it would be visibly tricky to clamber back out of the semi-liquid mess, and the last thing either of them wanted was to be under there with whatever these beings were.

After an immense struggle, the massive beast, misshapen and slopping thick slime everywhere, had managed to haul itself up onto the land, though the blanket bog was bending from its weight alone, and now it looked out across the landscape with one beady, white eye. There was reason to assume it possessed another eye, but that it was buried under layers of muck, as were all other discernable features of its body. It was large though. Not as large as Heric in his full sized form but a generous forty feet or so from end to end. With a hiss, it began to move.

The weight of its struggle to get out of the mud seemed to fall away from it now as it started to shake off the muck of the mire, and the long form began to lope lop-sidedly on four legs, picking up speed as its movement became more natural. It was almost as though it was running for the first time.

As more of the muck fell away, a shape began to emerge more clearly beneath it. The sharp, bone-coloured quills stood proud along its entire back, all the way down to a heavy tail that dragged on the ground as it thundered along. Four powerful, stocky legs held a swift but clumsy gait, and a long-muzzled, horned head, with forward facing eyes was carried on a long neck that was more than strong enough to hold it absolutely still as it ran, fixated on its target; A target Coyne knew to be Alan, Iewan and Heric. Whether the creature had decided to go after the greater or nearer target was uncertain for Coyne, but he felt a fearful pang in his chest as he spared a glance in the direction of this new horror.

“Focus Coyne!” snapped Fez, nipping his leg as the mimic almost stepped on a collapsing block of mud. “We're almost there.”

Ahead of them, the bleached stone of the hive rose from the mire like a bone from an open fracture, the many marks on the stone once made by the tools of man even more visible at this distance. It was enormous. Much taller than the cathedral that had once stood on these lands at the centre of Indminis, and probably as wide. To their right, a mound of the mud was beginning to split, and a long, barely hinged set of jaws was starting to push through, stained with the filthy red and green mixture of whatever nightmare substance was forming these monsters.

“Fez...” Coyne gestured to it, and the dragon nodded, well aware.

“I know, just come on,” he had reached the side of the hive, and begun to hop up onto the structure, “This is your chance, your only chance. You have one job now, remember?” The dragon pulled Coyne up beside him. “Whatever you hear, whatever happens to us outside... you keep going, get in there as far as you can, and hatch the egg. You understand? That's the only way you help us now,” the glittering purple eyes stared right into his, and Coyne, feeling his throat thick with guilt for not helping the others, nodded.

Fez gave a stern nod as well and shoved the Mimic upwards towards the opening they had pinpointed earlier, then he turned and slid off the stone surface, watching his assistant clambering for a moment before he began to flee back around the still-splitting hole in the bog.

Alan panted as he struggled to keep up with Iewan's much more limber form. He had already been getting into somewhat better shape since this particularly eventful chapter in his life, but he was still a little soft for this much sprinting, and he could feel the ground thudding with heavy, repeated impacts of something large approaching, rocking the fragile earth over the blanket bog. They should have known this was coming, should have seen it coming. It had been too easy...

He could feel that terrified fear locking up his chest and legs the way it had done every time they had found themselves in a confrontation, and he battled to push through it, knowing that if he froze up here, he was almost certainly dead.

Taking deep, shuddering gasps, he tried to focus ahead and not let sheer panic blind him, but in doing so, one of his feet caught on a tump of mud, and he went down hard, his special glasses knocked from his face, causing a blossom of pain in his head as the bright surge of colours shocked him. At first it took a moment to get things in order... a trail of bright green magic, fading like a mist in the air showing him which way Heric had run was the most normal part. It was the ground beneath him that shocked the man.

Where there should only have been dead mud and earth with limited traces of magic, there was a blooming, swirling mass of it. Huge shapes shifted through the liquid contents of the blanket bog, exuding a strange, acidic green magic of their own into the surrounding soup of violent greens and reds. He covered his eyes, grabbing for the glasses and jamming them back onto his face, rolling over to shout at the others. “There's more!” he choked, “There's SO many more!” but his voice was winded and did not carry well, he doubted any of them had heard.

It was at that moment precisely that he recalled a more urgent issue as two loud thuds sounded right behind him, and he twisted to look back, seeing the enormous shape of the muck-creature towering over his prone form.

It had stopped to observe him, its quilled head twitching in an almost birdlike manner as its cold eye took him in from head to toe.

Most of the mud had been shaken off by the pursuit, and Alan was now able to see the full details of his attacker. It was, for all intents and purposes, a dragon... or... like a dragon. It had four legs, large, taloned hands and feet, a long, pointed tail, and what looked to be wings, though these latter were tangled, and dragging heavily on the ground as though useless to it. It was misshapen and lumpy, like a badly remembered drawing of a dragon rather than one possessing of the majesty that the genuine article carried. Its face was hard and bone-like, as though the skull was on the outside, and its jaw hung vacantly open, with no sign of the muscle required to control it at all.

There was also no sign of the bright spark of intelligence that lit the eyes of a dragon, no speck of understanding.

Without warning, the creature shook itself, giving an unpleasant rattling, bubbling sound as it did so, its quills clattering loudly together from the action, then it struck. Lunging forwards, head turned downwards so that its neck-quills were pointed directly at the mage, several of them launching outwards, thunking into the ground around him, forcing Alan to utilise his shield spell to avoid several thoroughly unwanted body piercings. Fortunately, the spell resisted the impacts effectively, though each one hit with sufficient force to push the mage back a little along the mud.

In a brief pause when the creature looked up to see if he had been sufficiently perforated, Alan took the opportunity to get to his feet, an icy cold terror lodged at the bottom of his ribs, making his legs numb... he couldn't run... but he wasn't entirely frozen.

Swiftly, before the creature could strike again, he threw out his hands, muttering a few focus words, pulling the magic in his body to a focus point between his hands and releasing a blast of intense energy. The spell superheated the air in front of him, and he was able to contain and shove the resulting fireball directly at the creature.

As the blast seared through the air, striking it directly in the chest, the beast reared up with a hollow, furious screeching, clawing at the flames on its body before dropping to the ground and starting to writhe, trying to put out the fire.

Now this was magic... the kind of magic the college had forbidden them from ever using. On the grounds that it would limit their abilities down the line if they began to experiment and generalise. As Alan's hands crackled with pure magical potential, the bright point of light within Alan's eyes glittered a little, and he felt warmth returning to his legs. A bright, tingling sensation ran through him, mind and body. It had felt good to utilise that much magic and set it free... Maybe, just maybe, he could do a bit more than just run away. As the creature, still smouldering, got back to its feet and released another barrage of quills at him, Alan dismissed the attack with a wave of his arm and a shield spell before doubling down with another blast of energy, taking a shaky step forwards as this blasted the monstrous creature's loose hanging jaw clear off.

It hissed furiously, and Alan realised that outer skull-jaw had never actually been a part of the monster... it had a genuine jaw beneath the overlarge skull layer, made of scaly, blackened flesh that had been all but invisible. It was almost like they had a second skeleton over their outer form. As he glanced at it again with this in mind, he realised this was precisely what he was looking at. As though someone had dressed a misshapen dragon up inside the skeleton of another, larger dragon, then covered its entire upper body with quills.

He had seen a lot about new creatures over these last days... but he was willing to say with some confidence that this should not exist anywhere. This was something new,, something wrong, possibly constructed by the plague itself to utilise in its attack on the people of Sidkenhall.

Whatever they had interrupted today, they had done so just in time to prevent something much, much worse.

Feeling his legs now fully returned to him, confidence flowing through him as he tapped fully into his magical potential, magic that he had perhaps always known to be there but never dared to touch, and he raised his hands again, preparing to test just what could come out of him now.

He drove the creature back with several arrow-sharp blasts of energy, taking a step to punctuate each one until it let out a high pitched shriek and leapt into the air, demonstrating surprising athletic skill for something with (potentially) two skeletons, and dove straight down at the surface of the blanket bog.

Its sharp snout pierced right through the thin layer of mud, and it tucked down its legs and wings in a visibly well-practiced movement to disappear beneath the surface, leaving a gaping pit into the thick, sticky mud below.

Alan blinked, struggling to catch his balance as the wake of this action caused the ground on which he stood to rock. He could feel movement under there... it was swimming through the mud, no doubt trying to pinpoint where he stood so that it could strike.

The mage was forced to leap to the side as a few quills blasted out of the ground beside him, missing by a mere few inches. He scowled, raised a hand, and pushed his glasses up onto the top of his head, resisting the urge to close his eyes at the sting of the sight fully returning to him. “There you are you little so and so...” he said, as he made out the large form swirling below him, and he put his hands on the ground and began to exude magic into the mud itself, feeling the ground bubble and hiss as he began to heat it.

The creature, visibly stung by his attack, flitted backwards through the mud, and Alan took it as the right moment to retreat, starting to move swiftly across the still-shifting bog's surface.

But they no longer had the attention of just a one or two of these creatures, and as he ran, he glanced backwards to see several of them erupting from the land where he had once stood. More mud than beast, they were slow to start as they began to lope after him, and he felt a touch of fear against his heart again as he watched.

His staring forced him to pause a moment too long, and he let out a surprised shout as one of the beasts suddenly erupted from the mud directly behind him, and he was thrown to the side, clawing to grip the ground securely as he fell directly beside a split, feeling his legs splatter into the thick mud. He could not afford to fall in there.

He grasped desperately at the ground, seeking something securely lodged that he could grip to pull himself back onto secure footing.

It came in the form of a strong, rough hand grabbing his shoulder and yanking him bodily upwards, “What are you doing the plan was to run not start a fight!” Trevor demanded.

“I didn't have a choice!” replied the mage, “It was fight or get pierced.”

There was no time to continue arguing as the nearest beast was already snapping at them with angry, doubt sets of jaws, and Alan released a powerful shot of heat right into its face, pushing it back. “Retreat but back up fighting!” he shouted over the sound.

Trevor, shocked to see the power of the magical energy shooting out of his normally quiet friend's hands, gave a nod, and raised his own hands. His magic was not quite the same as Alan's, they already knew that, but there were a few base attacks he could muster at range, and he tried to hone in on those now, sharp little thorn-like barbs materialising in the air, propelled violently towards their attacker by his magic.

Iewan let out a shout of fear as a huge, spiked head burst from the ground beneath his fleeing form, tossing him aside, rolling and tumbling across the dry ground. With a grotesquely wet sucking noise, the beast lolled its heavy head towards him and began to clamber from the mire, jaws already clicking and snapping, flicking mud this way and that as it struggled out of the muck.

His view of the attacker was blocked by a huge blue form as Heric, free from his self-inflicted shrinking spell, leapt in, his enormously powerful body ramming into the beast horns-first, the force of the impact shattering bone and snapping the neck of the plague creature backwards before it slid back into the muck. “Come on, move!” shouted the dragon, whacking Iewan with his tail.

Motivated back to his feet, Iewan began to run once more, his skinny frame struggling to keep up a flat out sprint for such a sustained period of time. He was tough, and always had been, but the toll on his body from everything he had already gone through had been a heavy one, and now he was pushing his limits, wondering if he just shouldn't have come along. He had known he was only going to get in the way but... he had felt obligated to join in once he had discovered his immunity. Just in case he was able to provide something useful...

He dodged to the side as another creature made a grab for him through a hole in the muck, and carried on going, seeing Heric running alongside, a short distance away. “Where are the others?!” he shouted at the Sea dragon.

Heric paused a moment to look around, raising his head high, “I don't see them...”

“You have to help them!”

“Let's get you out of here first,” replied Heric firmly, “then I'll worry about the others.”

Iewan wanted to object, but he was quickly finding that shouting and running at the same time was difficult for him. His chest was tight, and his legs were so heavy from the sprint... he couldn't seem to catch his breath. But he could feel the ground continuing to shift beneath his feet as the creatures moved below, preparing their next attack. He had to keep moving. Whatever it took he had to keep moving.

Heric drew ahead easily, his long, four legged strides covering far more ground than the human's ever could. His body was a lot heavier though, creating much louder impacts as his clawed feet struck the ground. His first instinct was to fly, to avoid this, but he would be leaving Iewan. Right now, his friend was covered in the filth and dust of the bog and the plague around them... picking him up with his mouth, even with care, would open him up to almost certainly getting infected. Flying wasn't an option either really, it would leave him completely open to strike from any one of possibly thousands of sharp quills. So for now, he remained on the ground, waiting to feel firmer earth beneath his claws that would mean it was safe to fly.

Suddenly, the ground before him split apart, and a huge, misshapen, bony mass burst out of it. The creatures were growing more adept at moving in and out of the bog's semi-liquid, and this one got itself up onto the ground much faster than they had expected, blocking his path. The blue dragon skidded to a halt to avoid slipping into the torn ground, leaping over it instead, using his wings to co-ordinate a crash into the other side. A safe landing, that put him directly in the firing line for the beast that had leapt free.

The creature wasted no time taking advantage of its free attack, and when it came, the blow was swift and brutal, the creature swung its bone-heavy head like a weapon, caring nothing for its own safety. The force of the swing was so great that Iewan felt the bone-shattering impact through the ground, and Heric's huge frame went down hard. One of the sea dragon's huge ram horns had splintered and snapped off, drawing a high pitched roar of pain and surprise as the blue form slammed into the bog's fragile surface, claws scrambling to regain his balance.

Iewan froze as he watched the dragon fall, shocked to see his friend knocked down in such a ruthless attack. He had seen dragons in formal disagreement fights, and he had seen the Sea dragons fight Kheasceans, but he had never seen something so recklessly strike that hard. This was not a creature concerned with its own life, this was something else... something wild. He gasped as he saw the massive creature shake itself, its head strangely tilted to one side, but showing no sign of pain. Then it bent its head downwards, and began to angle its spiked hackles towards the still-stunned Heric. The human felt a sharp pinch of anger overshadowing his fear, and he found himself racing towards the monstrous form. He didn't have a plan, he didn't know what he was going to do, but he wasn't going to just stand there and watch it perforate his friend.

The creature spotted him easily, but clearly assessed him to be a significantly lesser threat than Heric, and after a brief, blubbling hiss at him, it continued to position its neck to pierce Heric with its quills.

Not knowing what else to do, and wishing he had had the foresight to ask for a weapon of some kind, Iewan reached the huge creature's front leg, almost fell over against it, and swung at it with an angry fist. The impact was pathetically weak against the powerfully tensed, mud coated muscles of the creature, but Iewan hoped he could at least cause a distraction.

With some limited understanding of what was going on through their shared link, Gut reacted as well, his snakelike head shooting out of the man's robe and biting down hard on the creature's forelimb.

It didn't even seem to notice, but Gut was not done. The Kheascean reached out his long tentacles, wrapping them around the leg firmly and securely, pinning Iewan against the creature as bit down harder, his long teeth extending fully, sinking deep in between the black scales.

For some reason, this, the creature noticed, letting out a surprised shriek, it tried to withdraw its leg, but Gut was held on as though he was glued in place.

Iewan, hanging on for dear life now, grimaced as he felt a sudden pain shoot through his head, feeling a strange aching in his arm, seeing flashes of bright, confusing images in his mind. He struggled to understand what was happening, disorientated. “You... won't... have him...” he managed to utter, keeping his mind focused on the reason he had done this. He was giving Heric a chance to get away, to run. “HERIC GO. HELP THE OTHERS!” he yelled, struggling through the confusing sensation that he was losing himself into something that felt like wading into tar. His face screwed up in concentration as he heard the creature let out an angry, confused shrieking that seemed suddenly so loud to his ears that it actually hurt. His senses were assaulted by another bright, confusing barrage of images he didn't understand... blue, brown and blinding brightness rolled into one disorientating kaleidoscope overlayed on his own vision. He let out a groan, clutching more firmly to the leg, trying to anchor himself, not sure what was happening. He couldn't let go. Gut's tentacles had secured such a firm grip he could have sworn the Kheascean had glued itself to the beast.

Heric, managing to regain his balance after the heavy blow to his head, heaved himself to his feet, stumbling a little awkwardly, blinking blood out of his damaged eye where the creature had struck. He looked over just in time to take in the scene of Iewan distracting the creature, preventing it from finishing him off with those needle sharp quills. The beast was in visible distress, trying to shake the far smaller form away from its leg, letting out hollow shrieks as it stumbled here and there. It seemed confused, disorientated... perhaps the blow it had taken to strike him down had damaged its brain?

The Sea dragon braced his position, preparing to attack, but before he could, the tormented creature suddenly lunged forwards and down through the opened ground, back into the mire to try and escape its attackers.

Heric leapt forwards, trying to grab or stop the creature, but it was much quicker than he, and before he could even reach the rift, it was gone, the surface bubbling lightly where the shape had dissappeared. “Iewan!” shouted the Sea dragon, batting at the surface, but his friend was nowhere to be seen. He went stock still, staring at the surface, his good eye searching for any sign that Iewan would surface... but there was nothing. The muck settled into stillness.

Heric let out a high pitched whine of upset, turning in an anxious circle, uncertain what to do. Sea dragons were excellent swimmers, but this was not water. This was plagued, infected, muck... he knew it was already possible he might be infected from the creature attacking him, but there was no certainty of it, as it had been a blunt impact, not a bite or a perforation from the quills... and the thought of leaping into the filthy blackness of the mud was primordially terrifying to the dragon.

As he was struggling with his decision, he heard a shout from not too distant, and raised his head, seeing a blast of magic, or the top of it, across the landscape. The mages... they were in trouble. He glanced at the mire, then back in the direction of the shouting, weighing his choices. If he leapt in there... there was absolutely no guarantee he could save Iewan, and he was guaranteed to come out infected. But the mages, there was a better chance of him saving.

He turned, then hesitated, the thought of leaving anyone to a fate like that abhorrent to him, but his good sense won out, and he began to run towards the shouting and magical blasts, telling himself it was what Iewan had wanted, what he'd told him to do. He should have left the human behind with Belfus. He'd have been furious but... he'd have been alive. How very disappointed with his son Ridgar would be.

One of the misshapen, spiky creatures bore down on Alan's fleeing form, snapping its jaws at him. He drew a blast of superheated energy out of the air and shot directly at the back of its neck, trying to burn or blast off as many quills as possible. Each one of those gone was a lowered risk of infection or getting shot while escaping.

Trevor dragged him along a little roughly, the druid's focus on fleeing. They were almost at the edge of the blanket bog, where the ground, though still plagued, was at least solid, which would erase the natural ground advantage these creatures had. The druid had run out of the energy to keep flinging spells a while ago, but Alan seemed to be an endless source of them, which was working alright, allowing Trevor to focus on steering them out of there while Alan kept driving the creatures back.

But now, with the edge in sight, their pursuers seemed to have doubled their efforts, they were attacking faster, and in multiples now. Trevor gave Alan a shove to the side as the ground beside them was suddenly perforated by a patch of sharpened quills. The ancient, taken off balance, sprawled on the ground, and Trevor let out a shout of dismay as he saw the floor shift where his friend had fallen. “Get moving!” he shouted, lunging for Alan, grabbing the man's arms just in time for the broken earth to fall away, letting the other mage's legs splash into the muck.

They locked arms and Trevor heaved the heavier man out, falling backwards onto his bum from the effort, but immediately working to regain his footing. “Come on... the edge of the mire is right there...” he was cut off as a large, clawed hand burst from the mud, slamming down on Alan's legs, gripping onto the robe and trying to drag him back in to the mire.

The druid let out a shout of alarm, and grabbed for his friend, trying to drag him back up onto land, but the strength of the other creature was not comparable with his own, and he felt Alan slipping. Hearing his friend give a shout of fear, the man reacted the only way he could, he closed his eyes and called on Ralph to help him out.

Though his hands lost grip on Alan almost immediately as he began to transform into the colossal snake, he wasted no time using his elongating body instead, coiling around the mage. The monstrous snake was nothing but pure muscle, and had no trouble pulling Alan free of the grasping claws. He dragged his friend away from the hole, dumping him onto his feet and lunging to start moving away from the danger. He didn't have the concentration to change back immediately, he just needed to get away from their pursuers, and ensure Alan did the same.

Despite the speed of the powerful shape, it was not quite enough to get him out of danger in time, and as he butted Alan with his nose to keep the other mage moving, he felt a sharp pinch of agony in his side. He swung back to see a muddied, filthy shape half in and half out of the mire, jaws buried into one of his coils. He swished his body like a whip, writhing to twist free of the bite, but the strength of the beast was uncanny, and it hung on grimly.

Suddenly, a huge blue shape descended on the threat, long clawed hands crashing into the sides of the skull and ripping it free of the snake's side. “RUN,” Heric's command was cold, hard and did not authorise any argument. Not that Trevor would have argued. He took his freedom and moved with it, butting Alan onwards with his snout to keep the other mage running as he fled, not yet taking the time to consider what had happened. Heric thudded along after them, long claws gouging the ground as he accelerated, the end of the chase in sight, trying not to think about what he had left behind.

Fez, still maintaining his small form, snuck silently across the blanket bog, frowning as he came across a huge tear in the ground. The others had clearly drawn a lot of attention away from them, whether intentionally or not, they had allowed him and Coyne to make their way. He felt guilt tearing at him as he continued to scurry across the land, his small feet making barely any sound as he took care to be silent in every movement. He could hear and feel little ripples of movement in the bog still beneath him, but had quickly realised that it was sound that drew the ire of the predators. He felt as though he had behaved recklessly by sending Trevor out as a distraction, at least without properly taking in the details of the situation. Ultimately they had succeed in getting Coyne into the hive but he was suddenly asking himself whether he had underestimated his attachment to the mages. He had always had such a nonchalant attitude to taking assistants. He had taken them on out of some sense of 'these might be useful to me' in the same way he collected precious metals like most of his kind. He had not actually taken a lot of time to check himself and realise that it wasn't at all like that. It was true, they needed to do this at any cost, but the cost suddenly seemed like it might have gotten a bit high for him.

He continued on his way, following the trail of Heric's heavy footprints, the most prominent trail to go after. Here and there he had to stop and study an area of scrabbling and scraping around a hole in the bog, made harder by the slow collapse of the surface layer down into the mire, but he always managed to find the trail on the other side and continue.

He stopped when he came across a much larger, messier scrap site, giving a surprised little snort as he saw a chunk of shattered blue horn. He stopped and hunkered down in place, studying the scene as a forlorn chunk of desolate ground came loose, and slowly sank away into the huge rift in the bog. The liquid here was not quite as vividly red and green as that which was directly outside the hive, but was a thick, threatening black-brown. It didn't move quite like water, behaving more like a thick, viscous sludge.

The Cave dragon made a few quick calculations of the claw marks around the place, relieved when he concluded that although there had been a fight here, nobody looked to have been dragged in. The clawmarks around the opening looked only as though something had come out, not been dragged back. Clearly though, there had been a fight here. He could see Heric had left though, so perhaps their blue companion was yet safe. He hoped so.

He slunk forwards, beginning to move around the hole, heading back to regain his place on Heric's trail, his purple eyes narrowing on the opening as it bubbled suspiciously. He tensed, the long spines along his back standing a little straighter on end as he moved, muscles steely, and ready to react. He was just past the point of no return, closest to the disintegrating edge of the mire when the bubbling intensified, and a huge shape burst out of the black mud with a shriek.

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Yeahhhh… things aren't going fine are they…

[bleedingichorhearts]

𝐌𝐞𝐫𝐌𝐚𝐲 𝐂𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧: 𝐒𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐫

𝕬𝖚𝖙𝖍𝖔𝖗: For those who are dangerously curious and greed for their appearance.

𝕿𝖆𝖌𝖌𝖊𝖉: @kit-williams, @egrets-not-regrets, @bispecsual, @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan, @sleepyfan-blog.

TW // SMUT/NSFW, Yandere Themes.

|°𝐌𝐞𝐫𝐌𝐚𝐲 𝐂𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐥𝐞𝐬°| |°ᴛᴀɢ ʟɪꜱᴛ ᴀᴘᴘʟɪᴄᴀᴛɪᴏɴ°| • {𝐒𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐫}

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫: 𝐒𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐫

A creature of the unknown. No one knows where it comes from. No one knows where it goes or spawns. No one even knows what it looks like; not having a chance to return back alive with nothing but a ripped rope and a bloody end. Its patrols a waste land beneath an abandoned aquarium, the cold and dark seabed filled with nothing but a few rock, smoothness sand and skeletons of its prime victims of the deep. Something they can’t classify as well, never having a chance to.

One might say it has two or one pair of arms; base off of camera evidence that quickly gets distorted and destroyed. When in reality it’s both. It’s has two pairs of arms that smooth perfectly into a bulky one, white and grey scales shifting around to connect the two together with a shark like tail providing all the more strength to launch itself at its opponent. Its eyes would probably be the most capturing part of this creature, its glowing white eyes luring you in like an anglerfish. Non can look away until it’s too late. Despite it having a shark-like tail, this beast is heavily armored with his own scales shifting along his body, distorting the water around it. So, it is best to never encounter such a creature for it will have you before you will have it.

𝐍𝐞𝐮𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐥 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬:

Protec, protec, protec! This Solor here is all about protecting you; since you nearly died in his domain to one of those deep creatures he hunts. He is not taking that chance again! He feels like he must protect your vulnerable skin with his much stronger scales. Having himself wrapped around you anytime he could get, or just hover over your shoulder. He doesn’t mind either one.

At least this sea monster doesn’t regurgitate its food and hunts for it instead. Extending his clawed hands out at you showing you 4 different fish species to pick from and he’ll just eat the other three or store them. Watching curiously on how these humans eat. What if he fed you mouth to mouth? Would you like that?

To go to sleep without Solor around is impossible. He is always wrapped around you when you’re sleeping. His head close to your chest, listening to your heartbeat as he would purr out in content. You are not hurt or dying under his watch, good. That means you are doing well underneath his care and protection. Not to mention your body is warmer to his colder scales. He could stay wrapped around you all day if he could.

Will offer the skeletons of the deep to present to you. His chest puffing out more if it a much bigger and newer one. You have no idea where you would put this skull of this horrid creature that bit your shoulder off, but if it makes Solor happy that you’ll take it? That’s all that matters. Maybe you can escape out quicker? Ah, nope, nope. He still caught you and grounded you in his nest, low rumbling sounds coming out of Solor as he wraps himself around you once more. You know you are getting scolded by him, but you can’t understand him. So it’s mostly him talking to himself.

Fun is not exactly this sea monsters… behavior, but if he must entertain you he’ll try having you hunt with him, but quickly figures out you are not… hunter material. Hmm, perhaps his little maiden would like to explore the dark depths under the aquarium? Yes? Just don’t leave you? Little maiden, he will never leave you. You are his little mate after all.

𝐒𝐦𝐮𝐭 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬:

When he first smelt your arousal this beast nearly pounced on you from the shadows, but watched with curiosity when you seemed to be pleasuring yourself in his nest when he goes out. Coating your scent over his and he purrs at the sight, spooking you when you gasp and turn away from him your skin turning red. Don’t hide from him, little maiden. He only wishes to fulfill your desires in his nest where both of your scents will wrap around one another.

Speaking of wrapping, since this Solor likes to wrap around you so much, he likes to keep you in place there too with his double cock pleasuring you in both holes. His chest up against your smaller, softer back with a set of arms on your waist and his other set of arms massaging your plump breasts. His sharp teeth attacking your neck as you would cry out to him, your head throwing back into his shoulder giving him more access to mark you up as his.

Sea monster loves to mark you up anyway that he can whether it would be visible or not. Inside of you are not. He’s marking you up and down. From his little nips and hickys from your inner thighs, all the way up to your already marked up neck. You are not escaping his hold or his domain.

If you do manage to escape his grasp. Do be careful of which waters you tread into or remotely close to. That little disorientation in the water he does also affects how he senses things. So don’t be surprised when he suddenly bursts out of the water and pins you to the ground, snarling all sorts of “nonsense” into your skin while he fucks you anyway he likes. Bent? Curled? On his face? He’s making you too weak to move on him again, and he won’t mind doing it again too.

When he said you were his mate? He really, really meant it. He wants to court you, breed you. He’ll have you stuffed with his clutch in no time when his rut/mating times comes. That urge to breed you over and over again coming at him full force. You’ll be nest bound for the next… however long the eggs decide to stay in your womb. Within that time, Solor is overly affectionate, providing you all your favorite fish and more of his semen to keep you nice and full and fertilized for your possible younglings.

[sunlight-forsaken]

in celebration of 4.5 (/hj? I don’t know how I feel about the chronicled banner just yet) and me redoing all of Childe’s artifacts, I have brought some of my Ajax headcanons :]

- he is simultaneously touch averse and starved:

Having grown up in a large, tight knit family, touch was always a display of casual affection or closeness. Stuff like- wrestling with his older siblings/cousins/friends, playing/styling hair, tugging on sleeves in crowds, hugs or cuddles when storms got real bad, his father clasping a firm hand on his shoulder, etc etc.

However, as one expects, the abyss really, REALLY fucked him up about it. Most, if not all touch down there of course equates to pain- but that’s not actually his biggest issue with it (especially nowadays). It’s just- he had to do a LOT to survive down there. Gutting creatures, for one- weapons are not exactly hard to come by down there, but there were plenty of moments where he was either desperate enough or seeking the thrill (in the way of the hunt/battle) enough that left him with his hands covered with gore and entrails. The feeling of drying blood on his skin, the feeling of rotting flesh stuck under his nails- that feeling never quite left him, no matter how long it’s been, no matter how hard or often he washes his hands. It doesn’t bother him much in his day to day, after the initial acceptance of what came out of the abyss in his place, but he discovered the hard way that any at attempt touch will make the feeling very apparent, and make him very nauseous. All he can imagine instead of the usual dark ichor of abyssal creatures is red, terrifyingly human red covering his hands.

He loves his family very, very much. Nothing quite messes with his head like the idea that he’d ever turn his monstrous behaviours on them.

It’s gotten better over the years, the ability to push through these thoughts for the sake of being able to hold the people he cares for- particularly his younger siblings who tend to initiate, still under the illusion he’s just like the rest of their family- but touch is no longer as casual for him as it used to be. He still craves it, that form of affection, as it’s how he grew up, but he cannot stomach it very well, if he’s not prepared or careful.

- the whole, like, constantly feeling gore on his hands thing? Yeah that’s part of the reason why he wears gloves. It’s a little less distracting when he can pass off the coated sensation as simply just a side effect of the accessory

- his hands are incredibly scarred up from learning how to fight, going farther than simple callouses; he has plenty of cuts and nicks from battle, sure, but a good chunk actually just came from his own reckless behaviour- c’mon, look at his melee attack sequence and try to tell me he wouldn’t try to show off too much too soon- therefore end up getting himself hurt in the process. Also, figuring out how to manifest blades out of hydro probably contributed a lot to these sorts of injuries. On top of having to balance which part is pointy ouchie hydro and which part he can hold, he also has just enough non-self-preservation to check wether the blades are sharp by poking at it with his finger, lmao.

- The gloves come in to play here as well; both to cover existing scars (mostly from his family, as he wants to keep up his facade to the littles as much as possible, and appear less like a weapon of war to the others, if only so that he can pretend they still see their son and brother when they look at him) and to prevent new ones - though luckily nowadays, he’s much less prone to accidentally injure himself when trying a new weapon or fighting style

… there was supposed to be more, but for some reason this became very fixated on his hands?

[abookishdreamer]

Character Intro: Pothos (Kingdom of Ichor)

Nicknames- The Lover by the people of Olympius

Sweetheart by Zeuxo

Age- 19 (immortal)

Location- Cyprus, Olympius

Personality- He's a bit serious, idealistic, deeply feeling, empathetic, & authentic- an individualistic being who follows his own path that has an appreciation for the beautiful. He can also be dramatic, moody, & self-absorbed sometimes. He's pansexual and is currently single.

He has the standard abilities of a god except shapeshifting. As the god of longing & yearning his other powers/abilities include flight (due to his wings- one is light magenta while the other is light blue), invisibility, having an innate sense of a being's crush/infatuation, cardiology manipulation (can manipulate the heartbeat of a being's), having an innate sense of the location of a being he cares about, and truth inducement (by way of a kiss).

Pothos lives on his own in a secluded cliffside beach house in the state of Cyprus- the "backyard" being Mesaoria Beach. The interior design is classic and romantic with lots of lacy & silk floor length curtains, floral print wallpaper, soft lighting (like dimmers), crystal and gold chandeliers, antique Victorian style furniture pieces, leather & velvet furniture in warm neutral tones, as well as a four-poster bed covered in silk and satin pillows & sheets in his bedroom. There's vintage paintings and his own scluptures throughout the house.

Roses, ranunculus, hydrangeas, & hyacinths are his favorite flowers.

Members of Pothos' immediate family includes his mother Zeuxo (goddess of marriage), his step-father Imbrasos, god of his namesake river in Samos, and his new stepsister Ocroe. He's aware of his biological father- a merman named Aegeus who died while fighting in the Battle of the Aegean Sea during the Titanomachy.

When in open water, he's able to generate a tail which is covered in silver-violet scales.

From a young age as a godling, Pothos was never comfortable with his feminine energy or his status as a soon-to-be goddess. He hated when his mother fussed over his long curly dark hair (which was decorated with bows) or placed him in the standard young girl outfit of the time consisting of knee length lace dresses, white stockings, & buckled shoes. When playing outside he would intentionally stain his pinafore dress with dirt and mud. The only respite for Pothos during his childhood was the time dedicated to his piano lessons & poetry.

Things became more uncomfortable for him after his induction ceremony. From the unwanted male attention of the public to the offers of marriage from some of the male deities. The only person who saw Pothos for the being he really was was his close friend Aerin (goddess of the ethereal), who was going through something similar. They understood each other.

One night during the 40's, Pothos & Aerin dressed in drag as they went to an underground gay club. It was at this point when things finally became clear for him.

It wasn't till many decades later, brought on by the public transition of Aerin, that Pothos felt the need to be honest with the most important being in his life- his mother. Zeuxo's initial reaction was a quiet and confused sounding "Oh." Though disappointed, Pothos didn't push her. A short time later, he moved out.

He initially celebrated his coming out by burning all of his old clothes in a BIG bonfire with Aerin.

Pothos' transition began not too long after and he chronicled a lot of his journey on Fatestagram- his haircut, his newly developed workout regimen, the development of facial & body hair, the deepening of his voice, and his top procedure. He made his official debut as a god on the cover of The Rainbow Room magazine, proudly & confidently showing off his naked chest.

He now looks forward to his morning rountine which now includes shaving and applying aftershave.

Pothos can play the piano, violin, & lyre.

A typical breakfast for him his a breakfast wrap (added with scrambled eggs, sun dried tomatoes, extra spinach, and feta cheese) along with a cup of yogurt (topped with granola) & a homemade protein shake. He also likes a plate of smoked salmon, turkey bacon, and hash browns & Golly Grains caramel curls cereal.

Pothos is fluent in French, Cypriot, and Latin.

Every few months he visits the doctor's office of Paean (goddess of physicians) for ambrosia hormone therapy.

Pothos' fashion style is a mix of casual, androgynous, & romantic. Staples in his closet include pastel hues, embroidered collared shirts, ripped slouchy jeans, stamenent quote tees, silk dress pants, oxfords, and sneakers.

His relationship with his mom has changed drastically since his transition. Zeuxo has made the effort to respect Pothos' pronouns, but has slipped up absentmindedly. He knows that she doesn't do it on purpose or out of disrespect, so he mostly doesn't mind it. Instead of saying "my daughter" or "my son," Zeuxo refers to Pothos as "my child." He looks forward to small dish of keftedes his mom brings over when she visits and when they go swimming & surfing on the beach afterwards.

A go-to drink for him is a vodka soda. He also likes beer, classic martinis, bellinis, champagne, red wine, cola, white wine, earl grey tea, cherry vanilla milkshakes from The Frozen Spoon, and mezcal margaritas. Usuals from The Roasted Bean are a large iced tea, a large lemonade, an olympian sized iced green tea, & a cafe au lait.

Pothos is aware of his position and privilege as a "passing" trans deity/being. With the help of his step-father, he donated a quarter of a million drachmas to the gender affirming clinic in downtown New Olympus.

He has a good relationship with his step-father Imbrasos. They go sailing sometimes and he was the one who taught Pothos how to shave.

He quickly blocks & deletes profiles and messages of beings on Fatestagram that leaves behind rude comments or invasive personal questions about his genitalia.

The club sandwich is his favorite thing to get at The Bread Box.

The majority of the money he earns is through his accomplishments as a professional writer. Aside from being a contributing writer to The Rainbow Room magazine as well as Kytheiria, Pothos has published a few poetry collection books- with his most popular one being Love Stained Lips. Intimacy, romantic relationships, identity, sexual agency, love, and consent are major themes in his work. He's also a talented vocalist, primarily providing background vocals on the songs of Apollo (god of the sun, music, poetry, healing, medicine, archery, plague, light, & knowledge). Pothos also models for/endorses Maison du Drame, andro-cene, ViVoTrack, & Bow + Arrow. He's also an intimacy coordinator in Olympius' film industry!

He wholeheartedly believes that kissing is the most intimate act, next to lovemaking. He also believes that the strongest and most meaningful height of climax happens when a heart's G-spot is reached.

A guilty pleasure for him is an order of steak (well done) served with crispy salt & vinegar fries.

Pothos' first time was with Aerin, before either of their transitions. He looks back on that moment fondly because it was something that mattered and still matters to them. He appreaciates how gentle she was & how often she checked in.

In the pantheon he's also good friends with Himeros (god of impetuous love), Aphrodite (goddess of love & beauty), The Graces, Ditus (god of bisexuality, effeminacy, & fertility), Ganymede (god of homosexual love & desire), Naeus (god of weddings), The Muses, Philyra (goddess of perfume, paper, & beauty), Deipneus (god of cooking & breadmaking), Nephele (goddess of clouds), Hedylogos (god of sweet talk & flattery), Aoide (goddess of voice & song), Dionysus (god of wine), Móda (goddess of fashion), and Gelos (god of laughter).

He's also aware of the youngest trans deity in the pantheon Philautia (goddess of self love).

Pothos sometimes uses the professional cuddle services of Paregoros (goddess of soothing words).

He's been a guest DJ at Neon Palace, the hottest & most well known gay club in New Olympus!

In the past he's had prolonged makeout sessions with Euphrosyne (grace of joy), Móda, and Melpomene (muse of tragedy). Everyone knew what it was & meant. Pothos really enjoys the act of kissing.

He's been one of the subjects in Euphrosyne's photgraphy exhibit.

There have been weekends that he spent with Aphrodite, laying with her her in her bed while they eat tons of chocolate and watch a chick-flick & rom-com movie marathon on TV.

Lately Pothos has been thinking about adapting Love Stained Lips into an anthology short films using various forms of animation.

He's extremely selective about the beings he chooses for a hookup- which he partakes in every once in a while. He's not into the idea of threesomes or group sex because he eants to enjoy giving all of his attention and pleasure to one.

Pothos' latest crush/infatuation is Alke (goddess of courage). Her bold courage & personality was initially appealing, but things shifted after he had a fantasy of them making out in the rain. Pothos hasn't initiated a conversation with her or asked her out because he's worried that she's not open to dating a trans being.

His all time favorite meal is meditteraean baked fish with steamed vegetables.

In his free time Pothos enjoys reading, working on his writing, listening to music, sculpting, basketball, going to the opera, sunbathing, football (soccer), photography, volleyball, going to the cinema, hiking, and hanging out with friends.

"Thinking of you keeps me awake. Dreaming of you keeps me asleep. Being with you keeps me alive."

[obraveyouth]

❛ isn’t it warming you, the world going up in flames? ❜

❝ △ &. 𝐡𝐨𝐳𝐢𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐲𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐬 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬.

transcription  of  ballads  and  oral  tradition  full  of  fable  and  mythos  was  the  least  unerring  way  to  transmit  the  chronicle  of  the  world’s  populace     —     pieces  of  hoodwinked  certitude  solely  foretold  by  the  battlefield’s  conqueror  in  a  triumph  scribed  in  slain  ichor.      when  was  not  the  world  flickering?      when  wasn’t  link’s  prerecorded  destiny  paved  in  carnage  and  slaughter?     ( it  always  had  been  and  as  forebode,  would  always  be  just  so ):     balsam  poplars  wept  a  fallen  hero’s  hymn  of  spring  born  viridescent    ( all  hoary  and  clareta ):     vernal  equinox  gave  cloudburst  of  damp  cotyledon  and  sun  beamed  achromatic  tributary  flowed     ,     as  sanctified  hylia  scripture  in  the  ever  revered  and  ever  worshipped  hidden  scared  realm  of  golden  goddesses  and  a  mortal  worn  deity.    a  courage  baring  luminary  written  out  of  the  ancient  gospel  narrative    ( a  holy  text  he’d  never  desired  to  be  apart  of ):     casted  aside  from  his  known  existence  by  the  completion  of  a  role  bounded  soul  but  a  flesh  and  bone  unshackled  to  legislation  nor  homeland.  itinerant  woven  core  served  as  remnants  of  a what  if eulogy.

femme  fatale  sprouted  verity  as  bethlehem  exclaimed  praises  of  a  newly  green  clad  incarnated  savior,  a  brave  adolescent  and  a  proud  beatific  eyed  beast.  that  is,  her  eyes  spoke  of  life  and  ruin    ( of  desert  flora  and  a  million  ghost  eyes ):     a  look  of  a  bygone  paradisal  era  once  gulped  in  earnest  by  a  harsh  solar  radiation  that  held  the  comforts  of  battle  and  home.     ❝ but  wha  can  i  do  of  it  but  extinguish  da  embers.  no  betta  would  i  be  than  any  otha  if  i  gave  into the  worst  parts  of  me. ❞     perhaps     ,     link     ,     too  had  a  bit  more  warfare  than  peaceful  aspiration  inside.      perhaps  perpetual  viridity  held  more  ache  than  contentment  ( but,  truly,  was  dawn  and  dusk  courage  ever  gratified?  had  he  ever  been? ):     maybe     ,  he  too     ,     wanted  to  see  all  of  golden  creation  burn.      conceivably  who  could  see  fault  in  all  of  his  vexation  and  rightfully  contained  fury.     a  mere  puppet  to  be  used  then  discarded  until  the  kingdom  saw  need  of  him  again     ,     until  destiny  bore  another  of  valorous  pneuma  once  more.     the  hero  of  twilight’s  tombstone  was  already  moss  pelted  prior  to  his  first  breath     ,     a  living  necropolis  of  antiquity.

even  if  link  yearned  for  it     ,     even  if  he  contemplated  it.     proud  green  garb  adorned  proscribed  all  prospects.     for     ,      those  pure  of  heart  could  still  falter     ,     could  still  be  led  astray.      sacrilegious  articulation  may  boil  from  behind  teeth  but  the  aptitude  to  act  in  spite  of anger    ,    hatred    ,    rage    ,     and  abhorrence    —    is  what  made  the  goddesses  newest  chosen  hero   ,     albeit  an  oxymoron  of  a  divine  and  impious  exemplar.      it  had  been  said  that  courage  was  the  magic  that  turns  dreams  into  reality     ,      but  what  if  the  reality  one sought  was  one  steeped  by  the  embrace  of  netherworld  eclipsed  embers?  ❝ da  world  gives  me  nothin’  but  misfortunes.     it  takes  when  ‘m  ‘pposed  ta  give  and  give.     wha  am  i  if  i  stop  givin’     ,      what  am  i  if  i  wanna  be  the  one  ta  set  da  world  ablaze  too? ❞

[pinpieper]

THE ICOUROUS CHRONICLES: Part one:

ok well here is the beginning prologue whatever the heck of my characters from the Ichorous Chronicles. inspired by DOAI, check out Pastra's work btw, he is a really good creator, ok, so I'm going to try desperately to narrate this in a cool manner... let's do this:

YOU HAVE ACCESED THE ADSO DATABASE: ENTER A COMMAND:

access file: <ichortranscript1>

WARNING, THIS FILE REQUIRES VALID ADSO CREDENTIALS TO ACCESS: ENTER USER CRENDENTIALS: USER: jOan_sim97 PASSWORD: GT%#@t123976hj1 CREDENTIALS VALID:

WELCOME: JOAN SIMMONS

[TRANSCRIPT START]

when one hears the term Tulpa, one immediately is brought to the concept of an imaginary friend or sleep paralysis demons, creatures formed from belief, this is not the context in which we at ADSO (the Anomaly Documentation and Study Organization) use this word. we here at ADSO are similar in concept to the (entirely fictional) SCP Foundation, however due to certain limitations, we are unable to contain anomalies, instead we document them such that the public becomes aware and safe such that they can protect themselves. (In hindsight our organizational structure is more like that of The Serpent's Hand)

Our motto, fittingly enough is this:

""In tenebris cadimus, ut illuminemus.""

or

"In the dark we fall to make it light."

anyways. Back to the topic of tulpas (pulls out old binder with yellowing pages). See, when tragedy of some sort strikes, and enough grief or similar emotions, it can, warp reality and create a substance called ichor. this stuff can surround and absorb humans or other creatures, very, VERY rarely can the emotions of only one creature create a tulpa, a tulpa has a body made entirely of ichor, resulting in most parts of the body absorbing all light and appearing pitch black, all tulpas share a few common characteristics, namely:

-They all have empty eye sockets with yellow irises and large pupils, save for those that don't have visible eyes.

-The body of a tulpa will, without fail, warp in order to reflect the circumstances of creation.

-Most tulpas have no lower limbs, but instead their bodies fade into a pool of ichor on the ground, as if they were melting or dissolving, (the tulpa known as "The Taker" is a notable exception, given that it has fully developed legs).

-tulpas due to not being fully physical are capable of de-manifesting and remanifesting (with limitations varying).

anyways, I have another event to attend, this is Pieper, signing off.

[TRANSCRIPT END]

NOTE: This document has been shadow-edited several times and is now OBSOLETE