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stellar-waves · 1 year ago

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staring down the sun [14]

⏯ chapter index

⚠ warnings: canon-typical violence, mentions of past witnessed sa, mentions of sex trafficking

. . .

silent rage now that fills my lungs

. . .

She’s killed people before. For orders. For self-defense. And then for justice she knew would never come.

It still leaves a bad taste in her mouth, though, taking someone’s life. She’d be lying if she didn’t admit she still has some reservations about the Saints’ approach to justice. Hell, in their first couple of days as vigilantes, they quickly surpassed her total number of kills from her first five years with the CIA.

But being with the brothers helps make the bile at the back of her throat easier to swallow. She knows evil has many faces, sometimes hiding behind feigned innocence. She knows Connor and Murphy have grown past the naive thrill they initially felt. She knows they can navigate the grey area between good and evil.

Destroy all that which is evil, so that which is good may flourish.

Maybe God really did call on them…

Elena looks at her watch, practically holding her breath for the minute hand to land squarely on the 9, when they agreed she would go into action. She exhales quickly as the time ticks into place and inhales while kicking in the door.

Their luck has got to run out eventually, as everything is strangely going to plan again. She enters the building from the alley entrance, firing her Glock at the group of men trying to charge after the boys. A bullet rips into one man’s head, throwing him to the ground instantly. Another man turns his face in her direction, but Elena fires into his chest twice.

One by one, Lombardo’s soldiers fall, encircling the twins with death and blood as they stand back to back with both hands firing. Another man peers around the corner, eyeing Elena, but as he raises his pistol in her direction, Connor shoots him in the head.

The first wave settles, and Connor and Murphy quickly swap out the magazines on their guns and move toward the center of the building, with Elena watching their backs. The trio carefully position themselves against the walls, Connor on one side and Murphy with Elena on the other.

They close in on Lombardo’s office, fast firing at the men guarding the door. A handful of men appear behind them, but Elena and Murphy take them out.

Murphy spins around to catch up to his brother, who is already holding the one and only Anthony Lombardo at gunpoint. Murphy hits Lombardo on the back of the head, hard enough to knock him to the floor, but not hard enough to knock him out—they still need to use him.

“Where are the girls, motherfucker?” Connor hisses as Murphy grabs hold of Lombardo’s shirt, holding the gun in his other hand against the Italian’s temple.

“Is that what you’ve become? Saviors to whores?” Lombardo taunts, prompting Murphy to tighten his grip and press his gun harder into his head.

“The girls, ye son-of-a-bitch!” Murphy yells, his voice overlapping with Connor’s barking, “Where are they?”

Lombardo smiles smugly, nodding at his desk. “The key to their room is over there. They’re down the hall, locked away for safe-keeping.”

Connor looks at Elena, and she grabs the keys from the desk as he points a gun back to the door to cover her. “Let’s go,” Connor instructs, and Murphy drags Lombardo into the hallway.

“Is that why she’s here? This another whore saved by the fucking Saints?” the crime boss taunts again, smiling at Elena.

Suddenly, Connor grabs Lombardo from Murphy and punches him in the nose. The dark-haired twin stops him from full-on wailing on the guy but lets Connor take hold of their hostage.

Lombardo spits blood onto the floor and directs their attention to the pad-locked door in front of them. “Your girls are in there. You can save them, but know there will be others, voi patetici santi.”

You pathetic Saints.

The seediness of where Lombardo keeps the girls compared to the clean, modern aesthetic of his office is enough to make Elena sick to her stomach. She hands the keys to Murphy, keeping an eye on Connor and the pure anger she sees building in his face. He presses his gun harder against Lombardo’s head, his veritas finger poised on the trigger. She shifts her attention as Murphy unlocks the door, revealing a group of close to 30 young girls, ranging from mid-20s to 14 years old if they had to guess.

The memory floods under Elena’s skin, sitting with the girls in that dingy room above the Russian club after one of them was raped. Natasha. The girl was barely 18, and her usually mousy voice had fallen silent as she curled up in the corner. Elena tried to ask her what happened, even though she knew already. She felt that if Natasha said it out loud, it would justify going after Nikolai right then and there. Her eyes scanned the bruises all over Natasha’s body before resting on the blood that soaked her panties. Natasha didn’t need to say anything. Elena asked if it was Nikolai, and when the girl squeezed her eyes shut, tears released down her cheeks. That was all the confirmation she needed.

She didn’t slow down as she left the room and verified with one of the cronies that Nikolai was in his office. “You fucker,” she growled in Russian as she slammed his door shut behind her. Nikolai’s smile was always evil, but somehow, it had reached a darker, more insidious level. He stood up, towering over Elena with his broad body. She didn’t care. She could still take him down. CIA mission be damned, she wanted to destroy him. He grabbed her and shoved her against the wall, ready to repeat his crime as he threw his hand up under her dress. Elena spat in his face and clawed at his arms and hands to let go of her. Nikolai stopped fighting and stared with dark eyes before throwing his fist across her cheek.

“You’re not worth the fight,” he sneered in Russian.

Connor kicks Lombardo so he falls to his knees, drawing Elena’s attention. As he holds the gun with his left hand to the bastard’s head, Connor grabs a tighter hold of the Italian’s shirt collar. He lowers his face close to Lombardo’s ear, with his voice low, angry, and vengeful. “The last thing yer ever going to see are the faces of all these girls ye hurt.”

Turning back to the girls, Elena and Murphy assure them that they will be okay once they get out. Their faces are dirty, tear-stained, and still so frightened. But a glimmer of hope and relief shines in each of their eyes as they’re directed out of the building. One girl resembles Natasha, as if she had been frozen in time and never aged, but her voice carries a Midwestern accent instead. “Thank you,” she softly tells Elena, her brown eyes sparkling as she hesitates before running off with the others.

She shifts her attention back to Connor, his voice still heavy and his eyes dark as he holds Lombardo in place. “Righteous Judge, for sins pollution, grant Thy gift of absolution, ere the day of retribution.”

The Italian appears strangely dejected, perhaps accepting his fate. He rubs his wrist and closes his eyes, taking a short breath as his arrogance fades.

Murphy walks around and raises his gun to mirror his brother, their voices synchronized as they begin their prayer, “And shepherds we shall be…”

Elena looks to the door, watching the girls run out into the night, heading for the Catholic church that agreed to take them in and knowing that Dolly and Duffy have eyes on them along the way.

“…In Nomine Patris, et Fili, Spiritus Sancti.” Two suppressed gunshots fire from the brothers’ hands, effectively killing Lombardo.

But the silence that should follow is broken by a beeping sound.

“The fuck is that?” Murphy says, sharing the same look of confusion and annoyance as Connor.

The asshole must have tripped some security system before Connor and Murphy killed him. Elena and the boys look around quickly, trying to locate the loud beeping. As it seems to be coming from Lombardo’s office, Elena enters first with her gun raised, with Connor and Murphy flanking behind her. But as she takes another step, another strange alert sounds, ricocheting into a new beeping steady like seconds on a clock.

She spins around as a loud mechanical sound cuts in, and a thick steel wall slides in fast, enclosing the room and forcing Murphy to stumble backward. Connor and Elena scream as they rush to grab the separated MacManus twin, but the steel locks into place, and the beeping continues.

Connor pounds on the wall, yelling for his brother, when Elena turns to see the glowing red digital timer sandwiched between stacks of C4 explosives embedded into the wall on the other side of the room…counting down with just under a minute left.

. . .

⏮ [13]

[15] ⏭

#boondock saints fanfic #connor macmanus x oc #the boondock saints #boondock saints #connor macmanus #murphy macmanus #fanfic #staring down the sun #waves of stories

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dutifullybitchyblaze · 3 years ago

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The dragon lady

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peterlorrefanpage · 2 years ago

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“That bland smile of his is ten times as nasty as the frowns from lesser villains . . .”

Italian artist Paolo Garretto drew the above caricature of Peter Lorre to announce his upcoming role in Secret Agent (1936). Source

While Secret Agent was in release in London, the artist Gitano created a portrait of Peter as "The General." Besides paint, he used skeins of black silk, a scarf, a gold earring, a boutonniere, and a tie-pin. Mmm, a tactile Lorre! Source

Speaking of imagery and such, Peter was allegedly gratified by impersonations, whether vocal or artistic. However, he had signed away his screen image as early as 1941:

"Warner Bros. held a patent on Lorre’s physical likeness, caricaturing the actor in animated cartoons that depicted a baby-faced villain with bulging eyes and nasal whine."

May 24, 1941, Warner Bros. released “Hollywood Steps Out,” which featured a gallery of stars. Eying a naked woman clothed only by a bubble, Peter Lorre says, “I haven’t seen such a beautiful bubble since I was a child.”

April 11, 1942: In Dr. Seuss’s “Horton Hatches the Egg,” a Peter Lorre Fish "spots the elephant atop a bird’s nest, pulls out a pistol, and shoots itself in the head, a scene later deleted by several television networks for its violent content."

Other animated appearances include:

“Hair Raising Hare” (June 8, 1946) with Bugs Bunny

“The Birth of a Notion” (April 12, 1947) with Daffy Duck

“Racketeer Rabbit”(September 14, 1946) with Bugs Bunny

Lorre's screen image also appeared in a 13-week episode of a Batman & Robin newspaper strip, entitled "The Two-Bit Dictator of Twin Mills," (October 30, 1944 - January 26, 1945).

Source

It's bugged me since I've known about it that Peter didn't even get any $$ for these images while he was alive - money he sorely could have used. But Warner Bros sure did.

#peter lorre #peter lorre cartoons #peter lorre caricature #Warner Bros exploited him and countless others #retroactive arrgh

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milolov3nutella · 2 years ago

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My Ocs info

ok I make info here so I can pin this. You can ignore this if its in your recommendations.

Cod zombies ocs

Wei Fu Xiu (main) Primis: (20's) Chaotic good /Ultimis: (40's) Lawful good (November 2nd)

• likes spending time with Tak and Tae, has a family of 4.

• Primis: energetic, loyal, always see thing as fun. Kinda immature, loves his family.

• Ultimis: loyal, trustworthy, kinda depressed from his daughter unexpected disappearance. Helped Taeko with the rebellion.

• born into a upper-middle class family. Has a family fan that have spikes. 5'9

• taught to fight by Tak's father.

• the fight-breaker

Taeko Masaki (Takeo's sister) (40's) True Neutral (April 15 / 10 minutes older than Tak)

• Takeo's twin sister. Downright taller than him like 5'11, no one knows why

• loves her brother but still bicker alot with him

• a rebel, while Tak's a patriot.

• has a husband and 2 kids

• looks alot like Tak but female (I cannot imagine)

• loyal, bad temper, loves foods, energetic

Mei Yu Lan (main) Primis: 20's Lawful Good/ Ultimis: 40's Neutral good (9 January)

•They both are loyal, trustworthy and caring. Primis is less merciful and serious while Ultimis is tired but calm.

•work in France to pay for hospital bills

•friends with Kora (my friend's oc) since childhood

•became Xiu's enemy to his spouse

•she like spears, I mean alot

•Ultimis, she is calm, but if she is traumatized by something she won't let it go.

Cod black ops cold war ocs

Andros "Bell" Lenkov (supposedly main, cuz the game let us make him as anyone. But I don't own him.) (40's) Chaotic Neutral (wip)

• loyal, loves cats, trusting (depends),

Height: 5'8

• like the storyline, he is brainwashed by the cia

• (good ending) former kgb, hates the group for lying to him, but forgives them later. Takes a little liking to Adler but still hating him at the same time. Good friends with Sim and Park. Best friends with Hui cause she save him many times and he does the same. Neutral with Woods, Mason and Miles.

• (bad ending) now with Perseus, he is the most loyal agent in the field. Perseus's right hand man. He does miss some of the crew but always returns to the fact that they betrayed him.

Wei Hui Shan (Xiu's granddaughter) (25) Chaotic good (wip 1956)

• Always wants to find her family's friends. Kind of a stalker. 5'6

• loves surprises, join the cia because she believes she can protect her home country, China or Taiwan, depends on the timeline.

• kind, loving, cares alot about her friends, social, airhead. Looks up to Adler, Bell's best friend

Cod modern warfare 2

None yet.

For people that likes history, join countryballs or u just need to draw hands and legs, then join countryhumans (please don't see the cringe side of the fandom)

Countryhumans (past)

None

Countryhumans

None (cuz I threw them away ;-;)

(Overwatch) 2070 (ish)

Giotto "Ombrello" Ranallo (male) (made on 2030s)

•Advanced omnic, former Italian mafia, calm, loves wine (even tho he cant drink it), classy, 5'8, Damage, Sicily Italy, was fixed and hid by Alina.

•Joined Blackwatch before Overwatch

•weapon: a fedora with spikes, gunbrella (sniper).

•wears an armored suit, he disguised himself to hide from getting killed during the omnic war.

Alina "Soceress" Markovich (female) (29)

•Afro-Ukrainian, 5'10, Support, energetic, caring, 5 May 2051, Kyiv Ukraine

• Ukraine's top medic, a patriot, daughter of a deceased surgeon, in love with sorcery, best friend of Giotto.

• weapon: sorcerer's star (a necklace that grants her the healing power), a random pistol for defense, can transform into air and reappear in a few seconds.

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augfc · 3 years ago

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Rant: Fake Villar Perosa mounts

This is a bit of an odd topic. Readers are probably familiar with the twin-barreled Villar Perosa submachine gun, one of the very first SMGs ever produced. It was designed in around mid-1915 by Colonel Abiel Bethel Revelli, a Piedmontese ordnance officer in the Italian Army who developed the majority of Italy’s automatic weapons in the early 20th century. The Villar Perosa was a twin-barreled, magazine-fed, 9mm blowback machine-gun which incorporated many of the elements by which a submachine gun is defined, although it is often not considered a “true” submachine gun because of its inability to be fired from the shoulder. Combined with this, one reason people will often give for the Villar Perosa not being a real SMG is that it was “designed as an aircraft gun”.

The idea that the Villar Perosa was designed exclusively for aerial use, and was “adapted” into an infantry weapon later on in the war, is not entirely true. When the Villar Perosa was introduced into Italian service in late 1915, it was produced at two different plants - Officine di Villar Perosa (OVP) and Metallurgica Bresciana già Tempini (MBT). The OVP-made models were produced with a flexible pintle mount which was designed to affix to a stand of some kind, usually a tripod. Only these models could be fitted to aircraft. The MBT-made models were built with a large circular unit in the mid-section of the gun which featured a self-contained sighting post and peephole. The circular mid-section wasn’t just made like that because it looked cool, it was specifically designed to slot into a rectangular twin-legged shield mount for prone firing. This method of mounting was protected by Revelli’s patent of 24/09/1915 - this was before the weapon had actually been adopted and issued, thus proving that infantry use for the Villar Perosa was always a consideration since the very beginning and it was not “adapted” into an infantry weapon at a later date.

The circular sighting unit for the MBT Villar Perosa (left) and the shield mount it was designed to affix to (right). Villar Perosas with this sighting unit are NOT designed to be mounted to aircraft.

For comparison, an actual aerial-mounted Villar Perosa, fitted to a Voisin bomber via a single-strut stand with what appears to be a brass catcher underneath the twin ejection ports.

Orders for both the MBT and OVP Villar Perosas were placed in late 1915. The first guns were delivered in April 1916, of which 350 were made by OVP and issued to the Air Force, and 125 were made by MBT and issued to the infantry. By the end of the year, the Italian infantry had been issued 2,000 Villar Perosas, and this number ballooned to around 15,000 by 1918. The vast majority of weapons produced were MBT models for the infantry, and probably only a thousand or so were produced for the Air Force. This is why most Villar Perosas that survive today are infantry-issue models with circular mid-sections.

The distinction between the OVP (aerial service) and MBT (infantry service) Villar Perosas is shown below:

An infantry-service Villar Perosa: the most common type, of which around 15,000 were made. This model is distinguished by a central sighting unit in the shape of a circular disc, from which a shield is designed to mount. Produced by MBT.

An actual aerial-service Villar Perosa - mounted onto a flexible pintle, with elevated front and rear sights instead of a central sighting disc. Produced by OVP. (This example is in the British .455 Webley caliber, but a typical model would be in 9mm Glisenti with curved magazines.)

But the narrative about the Villar Perosa being designed exclusively as an aerial gun is so deeply entrenched that every once in a while, a collector gets their hands on an MBT Villar Perosa and is confused by the fact that there isn’t anywhere to mount the gun to a plane. Rather than resign themselves to the fact that these guns aren’t supposed to be fitted to aircraft (!!!), these people have, instead, stubbornly decided that the gun needs to be modified to fit an aircraft mount.

The first example I’ll show is an actual WW1-period modification, although not an Italian invention. The gun in these pictures is actually an MBT Villar Perosa that was captured by the Austrians and converted into an aerial-service weapon. As can be seen, a pivoting mount has been crudely bolted onto the sighting unit of the weapon, and the mount is affixed to the observation seat of a Phönix C.1 biplane. By late 1917, the Austrians began manufacturing their own copy of the Villar Perosa - known as the Sturm-Pistole - and therefore they stopped relying on captured Villar Perosas.

An Austrian-modified MBT Villar Perosa reconfigured into an aerial service weapon. Capturing an actual aerial service Villar Perosa would have been next to impossible, so the Austrians seem to have improvised with captured infantry models.

This example is currently held by the Heeresgeschichtliches Museum in Vienna. I note it here because, although it is contemporary with the war, it is not an “official” Villar Perosa mount and should not be mistaken for one.

The following contraption is passed off as a “reproduction” aerial mount for the Villar Perosa. It’s not really a repro, though, because no such mount really existed; it is, for all intents and purposes, a fantasy piece. This mount was made in the United States and has passed across several private collections, most recently being sold at Morphy’s in 2019.

The totally fictitious aerial mount for the MBT Villar Perosa, claimed to be a “reproduction”. Complete with a totally necessary aerial-service bipod, supported by thin air.

Essentially this is a pedestal-type stand with an adjustable gunner’s seat. The workmanship is admittedly quite impressive, with a series of pulleys which raise or lower the mount in accordance with the placement of the seat. But the main flaw is the attachment point to the gun itself. It uses a sort of vice-like contraption which is intended to clamp onto the circular mid-section of an MBT Villar Perosa. An MBT Villar Perosa doesn’t like it when you do this, because it’s not supposed to be fitted to an aircraft mount. As stated, actual aerial mounts for the Villar Perosa used a flexible pintle. Morphy’s claimed that this piece is “true to the original design”, but it’s completely made-up. Passing it off as a faithful reproduction of a real device is, in polite terms, misleading.

Finally... a really questionable attempt to bruteforce the MBT Villar Perosa into an aerial gun. This is the example in the collection of Bapty & Co., a British movie armourer.

No, this is NOT how a Villar Perosa should look. Unfortunately, this image gets passed off as a “standard” Villar Perosa quite often.

Similar to the previous mount, it seems that the owners of this gun were so convinced of this weapon’s apparent status as an aerial gun, yet so baffled by the lack of actual aerial mountings, that they decided to just invent their own. So they’ve devised an apparatus that clamps to both receivers and presumably acts as a connecting point for a flexible mount. Even more puzzlingly, an aerial front sight has been fixed to the barrels. This is completely unnecessary, as the circular unit of the MBT Villar Perosa has a self-contained sight post. This is one of the most inexplicable exercise in gun modification that I have ever seen, and it’s pretty baffling that at no point during the abuse of this gun did the owners realize that the "fixes” they were making were totally pointless. Thankfully, it seems to be non-permanent and completely reversible.

So there you have it. A lesson to future owners of Villar Perosas: if it doesn’t have an aerial mount, it’s not supposed to be fitted to a plane.

#guns #firearms #history #ww1 #world war 1 #gunblr

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cyrah-is-cool101 · 2 years ago

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Punch Out AU: Vampire City Au #2

This is the sequel of this post. Please Enjoy!

Cast (Super Punch Out!):

Birdie, alias ‘Yellow Peregrine Falcon’

- Birdie is an American Half Human Vampire but he’s also a Monster Vampire, similar to Hippo but he can turn into a falcon-like beast. He goes by Yellow Peregrine Falcon due to his quick reflexes and sharp killing streak. Birdie is BFFs with Mac and Mika.

Weapon of Choice: N/A

Gabby Jay, alias ‘Ange De La Mort’ (Angel of Death)

- Gabby is a French Hydrokinesis Vampire, a neutral class of vampire that has the ability to manipulate and control liquid water and mold it into any desired shape or form. He is the head waiter of a restaurant and bar called ‘The Devil’s Den’, where vampire and human elites hang out. Gabby is also in charge of a group of undercover assassins that also act as security for the Devil’s Den.

Weapon of Choice: Combat knife (Death’s Blade)

Bob Charlie, alias ‘Music Man’

- Bob is a Jamaican Half Human Vampire but is also a Umbrakinesis Vampire just like Disco. He works part time as a DJ and a vampire killer that targets Were-Hunters at the same time by luring them into any nightclub he works at, he was given the alias of Music Man.

Weapon of Choice: N/A

Dragon Chan, alias ‘The Red Dragon’

- Dragon is a Hong Kongese Monster Vampire, similar to Hippo and Birdie but he can transform into a dragon-like beast and has pyrokinesis abilities, similar to a Pyrokinesis Vampire. Dragon is a skilled fighter like Mac and martial artist, under the mentorship of Hoy Quarlow, a Chinese Vampire who owns a martial arts school for vampires and Dragon is one of his best student.

Weapon of Choice: N/A

Piston Hurricane, alias ‘The Weather Man’

- Piston is a Cuban Atmokinesis Vampire, an elite class of vampire that has the ability to control and manipulate the various forms and aspects of the weather itself. He goes by the Weather Man because whenever he gets annoyed, he would strike fear towards criminals, common or elite.

Weapon of Choice: Sword cane

Masked Muscle, alias ‘N/A’

- MM is a Mexican Cannibal Vampire, similar to Mika and Hugger. He is the owner of an underground wrestling house and organization of vampire killers that hunt down Were-Hunters, common and elite criminals.

Weapon of Choice: N/A

Heike Kagero, alias ‘The Deadly Beauty’

- Heike is a Japanese Kyūketsuki (Vampire), similar to Hondo but he can transform into a kitsune. Heike is a professional dancer, entertaining elites but he also a vampire killer, luring elite criminals, particularly Yakuzas, because of his appearance similar to a woman.

Weapon of Choice: Kabutowari (Skull breaking knife) (Red Sakura)

Mad Clown, alias ‘N/A’

- Clown is an Italian Cannibal Vampire and is also a the mob boss like Hippo who also try to keeps the balance of the underworld and is the owner of a children’s hospital.

Weapon of Choice: Tommy gun

Narcis Prince, alias ‘The Golden Boy’

- Narcis is a British Blue-Blooded Vampire, a noble class of vampire that descend from a long line of royal vampires and has the ability of weapon manipulation. Narcis runs his father’s company after his father was killed by a Were-Hunter and now, he uses his connections to eliminate elite criminals.

Weapon of Choice: Sword (Golden Strike)

Hoy Quarlow, alias ‘Shadow Master’

- Hoy is a Chinese Pyrokinesis Vampire, similar to Bull. As mention, he is the mentor of Dragon and owns a martial arts school for vampires.

Weapon of Choice: Staff

Nick and Rick Bruiser, aliases ‘The Deadly Duo’

(Rick)

(Nick)

- Rick and Nick are American Twin Vampires, a common class of vampire that are born in twins. Rick is the brawns and Nick is the brains, killing off common and elite criminals, giving the title of the Deadly Duo.

Weapons of Choice: Twin pistols

(Rick)

(Nick)

#punch out #Super Punch Out #punch out au

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hypnoticwinter · 3 years ago

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The Adventure of the Eidolon Chapter 13

The trees stretch up seemingly into infinity, their trunks so thick and tall that the canopies cannot be seen, the faint, shimmering mist above swallowing them. Watson cranes his neck higher and squints; he thinks, for just a moment, that he saw something move up there, something sinuous and graceful, leaping between the trees like a lemur.

The air in the Enchanted Woods is thick and humid but not entirely unpleasant. There is a heavy smell of aged wood, almost smoked, as though the whole forest were aromatic herbs and garlic. If Watson closes his eyes and does not move, he can almost imagine that he is in an Italian restaurant.

The heavily-plated bark of the trees is thick with small, glowing mushrooms, wan pinpricks of malevolent green fluorescing softly in the eternal twilight of the wood, and the roots of the trees are gnarled and thick and strong, plunging into the earth like many-fingered hands, a curious sense of form and shape to them. On that root there, for example, there is a bole that Watson swears looks exactly like a knuckle, and on that one -

A branch snaps behind him and Watson whips around, plunging his hand into his jacket and scrabbling at his empty holster.

The forest is deadly quiet. Behind him the trees stretch off into infinity, the monolithic columns of their trunks still and unmoving. Nothing moves, nothing breathes. Along the path of trampled underbrush Watson has made, nothing scurries away, nothing tries to hide.

And yet Watson is unable to shake the feeling that something is watching him.

Watson emerged into the Dreamlands in roughly the same place Roan had taken him; he had found the same cliff and the same stump he had seen before, and then, knowing it was suicide to try and scramble down the sheer cliff face, had turned around and marched back into the forest, thinking he would be able to just go around, find the spot where the cliff evens out and then head out across the plains to the faint lights far in the distance. But after a few miles of walking, no such place was evident. Although the terrain became rougher and wilder, the cliff did not even out, and instead even widened a little, increasing its grade until Watson wasn’t confident to walk on its very edge, afraid that his weight might cause it to crumble beneath him and send him tumbling down into thin air below, with only sharp rocks and spiked branches to catch him.

Watson glares around at the trees again and then slowly relaxes. The branch, he reasons, could have broken when it fell from the canopy above. The branches there are certainly high enough that that would be a possibility, and if it had fallen on the hard, armored roots of a tree, maybe that would have provided the striking point needed to break it.

Perhaps. But there is still the fact that Watson can feel eyes on him. He tries to dismiss it as mere paranoia, but the feeling persists, intensifies, even. He feels naked without the big, chunky pistol in its holster, but he had awoken in the closet without it, and neither Sherlock nor Nemaides had known where it was. Perhaps, he reasoned, it no longer existed.

Magic, Watson thinks, spitting the word inside his mind like a curse.

With nothing better to do, he turns and walks further into the woods, keeping an alert ear sharp for any other noises behind him, any sort of stealthy slink that might indicate that something is following him.

Watson knows he is lost, but there’s little he can do about it. Returning to the park, if he were even capable of doing so, would be suicide at best. He’s sure that the Twins would have left someone to watch the park, especially if the government were doing their bidding. Again he remembers the two Men in Black types that had emerged from the sedan back in the park and shudders. On some very few occasions he and Sherlock have had occasion to deal with those sorts, and all they had left him with had been a crawling sense of nervousness, of dealing with powers beyond his awareness. The same feeling, oddly enough, that he had experienced when speaking with Nyarlathotep.

Nyarlathotep…it turns out the demon hadn’t been quite the ace in the hole Watson had thought it would be. He had invoked its name at least a dozen times since he had emerged in the Dreamlands, but it had never come to him. He had assumed that his mission was important enough that it would at least show up and help him, but…

There it is again. A soft, subtle sound, just behind him. Again Watson turns, his great meaty hands balling into fists, and he scans the trees, a vein pulsing in his forehead, and again there is nothing behind him. Watson’s eyes narrow.

“Show yourself,” he barks, staring at the trees. The mist makes it difficult to see more than maybe twenty or thirty feet back, and there, right at the edge of his vision, he sees the glow of the mushrooms flicker off, and then back on again. Watson frowns. Why would the - ?

Something moved in front of the mushrooms and then moved away again, he realizes. That’s the only explanation. Mushrooms don’t turn off and then on.

Watson takes a step back and runs into a tree. His foot comes down on a mess of knotted, tangled roots, and he stumbles, but quickly rights himself. He hears, very clearly, a quick scuffling sound from off to his left, but when he looks he sees nothing.

“I’m warning you,” he starts, glaring around at the trees. He licks his lips; his mouth has gone very dry all of a sudden.

Watson’s heart is beating very steadily in his chest. He can hear it pounding in his ears. Just the sound of it makes him angry; angry at himself, for getting so frightened so easily, angry at whatever things are toying with him. Angry at Nyarlathotep, for not coming when he called, as Roan had said he would…

There is a quick patter of footsteps behind him and without even thinking about it, Watson runs.

* * *

“Mistress,” someone says. Nemaides cracks her eye open; Idriya smiles at her.

“Hello,” she murmurs, shutting her eye again. She rolls over on the divan, hugging the pillow tighter beneath her head. The divan creaks as Idriya sits on it and Nemaides wonders how she can have weight, if she is nestled inside of Nemaides and projecting an image outwards.

Idriya’s hand traces up Nemaides’ bare side, and Nemaides, in a sudden burst of movement, reaches out and clutches Idriya to her. The spirit yelps with surprise and for an instant, just an instant, tries to pull away, and Nemaides freezes, her hands around the spirit’s midriff, her cheek pressed against Idriya’s navel. Idriya can feel Nemaides’ eyelashes fluttering against her stomach.

“It’s okay,” Idriya murmurs, putting her own arms around Nemaides with only the slightest hint of hesitation. Nemaides looks up at her, wriggling around so she can put her head in Idriya’s lap.

“Where did you go?” Nemaides asks.

Idriya shrugs. “I needed some time by myself.”

Nemaides chews on that for a moment. “If you want to leave,” she starts, but Idriya shakes her head quickly.

“It isn’t that,” she says.

“You aren’t bound to me or anything,” Nemaides continues. “I didn’t - look, when I stumbled across you, I didn’t treat you how I -“

Idriya sighs. “Don’t let’s talk about it,” she murmurs. Nemaides starts to say something else, but stops herself. Idriya glances downward. “Do you treat all spirits like that?”

Nemaides shuts her eyes. “No, not all.”

“Was it because I was going to try and kill you?”

“No, it wasn’t that.”

“What was it?”

“I didn’t think you had a soul.”

Idriya is silent for a long while. “Why would that matter?” she asks. Nemaides sits up, letting out a little groan as her elbow cracks.

“I grew up in Mu,” she says. “I’m old, Idriya. Not old enough to remember the Elder Things or the Yithians, but old enough to remember plenty of things that even some wizards today have forgotten. I was there when Solomon broke the Seal and let all those demons in from the Elder Dimensions. They didn’t have souls. I guess wherever they were from, they didn’t need souls.” Nemaides says. She starts to say something else, but just shakes her head instead. Idriya thinks she sees something flash behind Nemaides’ eyes, and all of a sudden Idriya can see that age, can feel the weightiness of it in the being next to her. She can feel it like the smell of electricity before a lightning strike, the smell of power heavy around Nemaides’ slender, soft form. Idriya barely suppresses a shudder.

“When Solomon did that, just for the sake of power,” Nemaides says, “I swore never to let it happen again.”

“I’ve never met a demon,” Idriya murmurs.

“You wouldn’t have,” Nemaides says, a wry laugh crinkling her mouth into a grin. “After Solomon broke the Seal, I left his court and gathered a few wizards who knew what would happen if those things were allowed to roam free, and we slaughtered as many of them as we could find. I’m sure we missed some, but we put the fear of Tsathoggua into them,” she says, a sort of bloodthirsty relish in her words. “But we - god, the things they could do. They’re terrible things. Forces of nature. They were never supposed to be here.”

Nemaides smile fades. “You look like one. One of the lesser ones. Your true form, I mean.”

Idriya frowns. “I look like a demon?”

“A little.”

“Oh,” she says, in a small voice. Nemaides reaches out for her and squeezes her thigh.

“When you crept up on me,” she says, “I assumed that you were one. It was - it was stupid, I didn’t think. But I saw you and I just - reacted. I never meant to -“

“Mistress,” Idriya says, her voice like a resolution, “I don’t care.”

“What?”

“I don’t care,” she repeats simply. Idriya gets up, stretching. “You humans always make things so much more complicated than they need to be,” she smiles. “You’ve been good to me, so I’m going to be good to you. Why bother saying any more than that?” she asks. Nemaides stares.

“But I -“

“Mistress,” Idriya repeats, a small smirk spreading across her full, perfect lips. “Shut up.”

Nemaides’ lets out a little gasp of delight, and takes Idriya’s hand. “I can’t tell you how long it’s been since -“ Nemaides says, but Idriya pops up on her tiptoes and kisses Nemaides. Before Nemaides can kiss her back or do more than stare at the flat lids of Idriya’s flashing violet eyes, their lips part.

“Shut up,” Idriya says again, and then holds out her hand. “Come on,” she says. “I found some food.”

And Nemaides, for once in her life, shuts up. She takes Idriya’s warm, firm hand, and lets the spirit lead her deeper into the Other Place, slipping through its dense maze of alleys like water finding its way downhill.

* * *

Watson takes his breaths slowly and evenly, in through the nose, out through the mouth, his feet pounding against the forest floor with the regularity of a metronome. He reaches out with his palm and slaps the trunk of a tree, catching himself on it and using it to change direction without stumbling. The strange ululating calls from behind make it seem as though whatever chases him is right on his heels, but when he glances backwards on a straightaway, a slender path cutting between the trees and affording him twenty feet or so of flat-out sprint, he can see nothing at all.

And yet the footfalls are all around him, pacing him, even, sometimes, ahead of him, and no matter which way he turns, he cannot outstrip them. His stamina is keeping up for now, but he knows that he cannot outlast them, whatever they are.

There seem to be at least five, a whole forestful of footfalls echoing off the trunks, the rabid yips and whines and groans chattering like a lively conversation. Watson clenches his fists and hunches his shoulders, putting an extra squeeze of effort into his aching legs.

There is a soft rummaging ahead of him and Watson looks up, frowning. Before he can change his course, something steps out from behind a tree, an enormous something, a head or two taller than Watson, its arms cocked back like a batter stepping up to the plate. Watson immediately digs in his heels, trying to slow himself before he careens into the thing, but his feet skid on fallen leaves and he feels his balance immediately depart, pitching him headlong towards it.

The thing swings the branch it holds directly into Watson’s face, and he smashes to the ground like a felled tree, insensate. The last thing he is aware of are the yips and chirps and howls growing louder, as two things similar to but not fully like hands take ahold of his ankles and start to drag him deeper into the forest.

* * *

“Idriya,” Nemaides mumbles, her mouth full of oatcake, “where the hell did you even find these?”

Idriya laughs, a high musical sound, a little like a river. “They were just here,” she points, indicating the back room of the ruined inn. The place is so decrepit it’s almost picturesque; the long, benched tables snapped in half by some forgotten, ancient impact; chairs broken like firewood and strewn about the dusty, tiled floor. There are cracked amphorae huddled behind the bar like old bundled babushkas leaning together and gossiping, and the light streaming in the (surprisingly intact) window floods the place in a golden, rosy hue. Nemaides sighs, gesturing with a cake.

“You know what this is, right?”

Idriya gives her a quizzical glance. “An oatcake?”

“No, silly. This is one of the last few places where the Elder Gods stashed food for their legions, back when they were going to use this place to hide soldiers for when the Great Old Ones came.” Nemaides’ eyes flit over the look of complete incomprehension on Idriya’s face. “So, back when the Elder Gods found out that the Great Old Ones were heading to town -“

“Sorry, the who?”

“What?”

“Who are the Elder Gods?” Idriya frowns. Nemaides’ mouth drops open.

“You don’t…you’ve never heard of the Elder Gods?”

Idriya’s eyes narrow. “Is this one of those human things?”

Nemaides snorts. “’Human things?’”

Idriya shakes her head. “Did you want something to drink? There’s a cask of wine back there too.”

“Please,” Nemaides blurts, suddenly acutely aware of how thirsty she is. She watches the sway of Idriya’s hips as the spirit saunters towards the back of the inn. The spirit pauses and then turns back, a little half-smile on her face, and Nemaides looks away quickly.

“You know that it’s only a projection, right?” Idriya asks. “I’m still inside you. I can see where you’re looking.”

Nemaides laughs. “So I should just stare at you?”

“Do what you want,” Idriya smirks, and disappears into the back room.

As Idriya walks back, carrying an amphora, Nemaides makes a point of staring quite openly at her, and snorts, giving Nemaides a sidelong, slanted smile, equally shy and sly. She pours Nemaides a brimming cupful, and Nemaides drinks deeply, then makes a face. “Eurgh,” she grunts. “Did you taste that?”

“Yes,” Idriya says. “Thoroughly awful.”

“You’re lucky you don’t have to eat or drink,” Nemaides says, steeling herself for another sip. The bench creaks as Idriya sits down opposite her.

“Do you have to, Mistress?” Idriya asks, watching the graceful lines of Nemaides throat as she swallows another bitter gulp of the wine. “You’re not much more than a spirit yourself.”

“I’m an echo of myself,” Nemaides says, raising a finger. “There’s a difference.”

“If you say so,” Idriya murmurs. Nemaides sets the cup down and watches Idriya carefully. The spirit is making a show of cleaning the dirt from beneath her fingernails. There is a tiny, tiny smile on her face. Nemaides shakes her head.

“Idriya,” she asks, “what do you care about?”

“Hmm?”

“Don’t ‘hmm.’ You’re in my head, you know exactly what I mean.”

Idriya sighs and lets her hands fall. “I’m a spirit. What satisfies me is different from what satisfies you. You’ve never had a spirit like me inhabit you before, have you?”

“I haven’t,” Nemaides admits.

Idriya shrugs. “Emotional energy is all I need to sustain myself. Aside from that, my interests are different from yours. You’re so…so curious about everything. You have a - a need to know everything about everything. And then control it, and use it. And if you can’t, you destroy it. You’re always -“

“Alright,” Nemaides murmurs. “I get it.”

Idriya gives her a soft, tolerant smile. “Tell me about the Elder Gods,” she says. Nemaides snorts.

“Are you just trying to make me feel better by pretending to be interested?”

Idriya reaches out and puts her hand on Nemaides’ cheek. Nemaides knows that it isn’t real; the image Idriya projects outside for her to interact with is just an image, an illusion, beamed into her brain by the real Idriya, loping and alien and strange, curled up inside her and nestled next to her hoary, ancient soul. But that illusory hand is soft and warm and sweet-smelling, and it has a pleasantly reassuring weight to it. “You,” Idriya says, giving Nemaides a threatening stare, “are very difficult to be kind to. Did you know that?”

“I don’t -“

“Shut up,” Idriya says, then continues in one smooth breath. “Mistress, I’m not trying to trick you. There isn’t some kind of scheme or plan to take advantage of you. I want you to be happy. You taste better when you’re happy.”

“What?” Nemaides blurts. “I taste - ?”

“Positive emotions are more pleasant to draw energy from than negative ones,” Idriya says. Nemaides thinks she can detect a hint of annoyance in the Spirit’s high, quick voice, as rapid and vivacious as the crack of a whip. “There, there’s your motive. Satisfied?”

“Idriya, I…”

Idriya raises her eyebrows, waiting for Nemaides to decide what to say. Nemaides breathes out, a quick gusting burst of laughter held under her breath. “Kiss me,” she tells Idriya, and Idriya smiles and leans forward, clearly happy to oblige. The kiss is long and hard and deep, and Idriya lets out a little purr of delight, deep in her throat, when Nemaides knits her fingers into Idriya’s hair and clasps the spirit to her, her tongue slipping into Idriya’s oven-warm mouth and skipping along the smooth, lacquered surface of her teeth. When they break apart Nemaides is gasping slightly and Idriya laughs at the glistening strand of spit that connects their lips. She reaches up and breaks it with a finger.

Her eyes, Nemaides notices, have gone very dark, and her pupils have dilated so wide that she can see a tiny reflection of herself, lurking within them, looking winsome and needy, her mouth open, her cheeks flooded. “Let me make you feel good,” Idriya breathes. Her arms are encircling Nemaides now, and already she can feel a flood of warmth surging towards her groin, like liquid fire pouring down her stomach and her sides.

Nemaides can feel the hair on her thighs standing on end. Idriya squeezes her ass and Nemaides groans and rocks her hips forward, trying to rub against the spirit, and Idriya’s smile widens. She kisses Nemaides again, and when she draws back she spits into her palm and reaches down, tracing along Nemaides’ stomach. Nemaides gasps; the trail of saliva has magnified into something a little like oil, and wherever Idriya’s fingers touch, great starbursts of electricity erupt in Nemaides’ nerves. She has to bite her lip to keep from screaming, the jolt is so sudden and intense. Idriya laughs. “You like?” she asks, her fingers resting on Nemaides’ mound. Nemaides nods frantically.

“Yes,” she grunts, her eloquence deserting her. “Yes, I like. Idriya,” she says, a sudden urgency filling her, her voice nearly a moan of want, her gaze imploring, and Idriya laughs and kneels before her in a quick, sinuous motion, and plunges forward, her tongue darting against Nemaides, raw and wet and eager, and then Nemaides really does scream.

* * *

Watson comes to still jostling along the forest floor, the hands of whatever is dragging him still tight around his ankles, but he has the presence of mind to not call out or struggle. He lies completely limp, listening carefully to the heavy footfalls of the thing carrying him, to the slide and scrape of his suit jacket along the forest floor, to the utter stillness of the forest around him.

The pain is manageable. It’s not actually as bad as he had been expecting; his nose is definitely broken, and his head throbs in time with every jostle and bump. He feels a little concussed, that same familiar glassiness and fragility cast all about his mind like he were frozen in ice and afraid of falling.

He cracks his eyes open and casts a careful glance down at the thing carrying him. It’s a little like a man, but only a little, all rubbery flesh and bulging muscles, banded about its long loping limbs in awkward, inhuman spots. It turns its head to stare back at him and he sees a doglike snout and god, teeth upon teeth upon teeth, layers and layers of them, all stacked on top of each other, interlocking and gnashing and sharp, all razor sharp. It gives Watson the creeps, looking at this thing, loping along, dragging him like he were a felled ox.

He thinks briefly of kicking it, breaking out of its grasp. It’d be easy, he thinks, it isn’t expecting it, but the memory of the chase weighs on him. There’s more than one, he’d bet his life on it, and he doesn’t know if he can take more than one. Hell, he isn’t even sure if he can take just the one. Look at the muscles on that thing! Look at the teeth.

Watson swallows hard, and with no other options forthcoming, allows himself to be dragged deeper into the woods. He watches the spittle drip and sizzle from the dog-thing’s enormous mouth and, for what is perhaps the first time, feels a curl of mortal terror clutching at him.

There is the flickering light of a fire ahead…

* * *

“Come here,” Nemaides gasps, so out of breath that she can barely croak the words. Idriya glances up at her, her nose pressed tightly against the bristly stubble of Nemaides’ pubic hair. “Come here,” she says again, her thighs quivering slightly around Idriya’s ears. “I want to taste you.” Idriya rises to her feet, smirking as she wipes her mouth on the back of her hand. Nemaides tries to stand, but her legs begin to give out beneath her. Idriya darts forward and slips an arm around her back, moving so quickly that all Nemaides can see is a blur of sudden motion. Her yelp strangles itself midway out her throat, and then Idriya cradles her, her slender arms strong and graceful against Nemaides’ bare, sweaty back. “God, I thought -“

“I wouldn’t let you fall,” Idriya breathes. She glances around, clearly looking for a place to put Nemaides, then shakes her head. “Let’s go for a walk,” she says, and then heads for the door. Nemaides starts to wiggle, trying to get down and walk, but Idriya shifts her hand downward and slips a finger into Nemaides, and Nemaides stiffens suddenly, a deep growly moan forcing itself from her throat. Idriya laughs, and then moves her thumb upwards and rubs it against Nemaides’ clit. Nemaides throws her head back, her long wavy cascade of inky hair showering down Idriya’s side.

“Tsathoggua’s teeth,” she murmurs.

Inside of her, Idriya’s fingers sprout and multiply into a dozen, then a hundred tiny appendages, all probing within her. Nemaides jolts in her arms, her eyes widening, but Idriya keeps a firm hold of her. “I didn’t know you could -“ she starts, and then Idriya finds what she was looking for, a tiny patch of rougher flesh, a tiny cluster of nerves, their sensitivity so honed and stretched they sing like violin wires. Idriya sets those tendrils to work prodding and massaging and kissing at it, and Nemaides comes so hard she bursts a blood vessel in her eye.

* * *

The screaming has been interminable for so long now that Watson isn’t fully aware of when it stops. The rough, oily taste of the gag has been growing more and more intolerable, and it has only been through focusing hard on his breathing that he has avoided vomiting. He is afraid that if he looks downwards and sees what the dog-things have done to that poor boy who was tied up when he arrived at their makeshift camp, he will be unable to help himself.

He has been working very diligently on the dirty, worn rope binding his wrists, but it’s no use; the knot is tight, and he’s making no headway at the tiny portion he can reach. Worse, his hands are starting to go numb. Even if he were able to get himself loose, he’d still have to content with the rope binding his ankles.

There is a horrible wet snapping sound and the boy’s voice pitches up even higher into agony. Watson breathes hard through his nose and tries to force himself to be calm. One of the dog-things barks out a hooting sort of laugh and then the screams are cut off entirely in a crescendo of snapping and tearing. It goes on for what feels like ages, and the sounds grow progressively more and more awful. The shattering of bone, the snapping of tendons, the cracking of ribs, Watson thinks he can identify every single one. At last there is silence amid the low roar of the fire, and then something shifts next to him and takes ahold of his legs.

Watson lets out a muffled yelp through the gag as he is dragged forward, closer to the fire, into the light, right next to the few bloody bones that remain of the dog-things’ meal.

* * *

“Oh god,” Idriya is moaning, over and over again, her lip crimson from how hard she’s bitten it, their legs tangled together in a mess of delicate, perfumed skin. Nemaides grins, grinding herself harder against Idriya and the girl’s eyes flash open and stare down at Nemaides, wide and wild, a lascivious grin twisting her pretty face. “Harder,” she groans, and Nemaides laughs. In a flash she has bolted downwards, flailing her legs out of the way and spreading Idriya wide before her, her hands digging into the girl’s plump behind. Idriya shrieks, but the noise quickly turns to an exaggerated groan of pleasure as Nemaides licks at her. Idriya reaches down and grabs a great fistful of Nemaides’ hair and pulls her even tighter, and Nemaides chuckles, relishing the force, relishing the hand cradling her head as she laps in slow concentric circles over Idriya.

She can taste it when Idriya comes, she can feel it in the way the girl’s body crunches even harder against her, the hand on the back of her head fluttering and losing its grip. She stares upwards at Idriya as her face contorts, her mouth open wide in a silent shout, her head thrown back in abandon. She sees Idriya’s abdominal muscles tense and relax, tense and relax, and some part of her feels an infinite gleeful thrill at the sheer amount of control she has, her fingers slipping in and out again and again, her pace increasing until she can feel the long stringy muscle in her arm shriek in protest. I’m going to make her cum, Nemaides thinks, impressed at her ability to even parse such a complicated sentence. I’m going to make her cum so hard, she thinks, and she feels Idriya’s mind press against hers like a warm hug, but shivering, shaky, quivering with the force of Nemaides’ efforts.

Yes, Idriya breathes, the word blossoming unbidden in Nemaides’ head, her voice unsteady but full of something like joy. Nemaides can feel her coming, can feel the exact moment she plunges over the edge, even before she clamps down so tightly on Nemaides’ fingers that she bruises them, even before she screams, a loud shouted “yes!” both from the throat of the illusion and within Nemaides’ head, the spirit’s voice blending with itself in a twinning, harmonizing stereo, even before she arches her back so hard she cracks every single vertebra in her imaginary spine, Nemaides can feel the single instant that forced something uncontrollable out of Idriya.

She watches the whole time, her eyes wide, not daring to blink. Every tiny flick of a facial muscle, every unbidden twitch of a thigh or a calf, every unconscious, autonomic convulsion, Nemaides drinks it all in with a burning urgency, aching somewhere in her breast.

Idriya is humming, she realizes, somewhere in her head. As she watches the illusion fades slowly and then Nemaides is alone, naked, covered in dried sweat and the aftermath of her own numerous orgasms. She looks down at herself and sighs, shaking her head, and starts to get up.

Not alone, Idriya breathes, and Nemaides jumps. The spirit’s voice sounds terribly sleepy, like she’s been wrapped up in fuzzy blankets and just awoke long enough to remember how good the bed felt. Never alone, she says.

And before Nemaides can say anything in reply, from somewhere deep down inside herself, she can feel Idriya’s soul curl around hers, and the warmth of the spirit’s satisfaction is so great that Nemaides is soon panting with the heat of it.

* * *

The dog-things grinning down at him are like something out of a Munch painting. Watson knows it’s futile but he struggles anyway, his muscles straining, his shoulder creaking under the stress. One of the creatures reaches out with a wicked talon and casually flips him onto his stomach. Almost immediately the hair on the back of his neck stands on end; he doesn’t know what was better, having to stare at the things and their wide, mirthless smiles, or knowing they’re there behind him, his face pushed into the muddy, bloody dirt, unable to see, unable to breathe -

There is a soft thud, as of an impact, and he feels movement around him. There are a few yips and whines from the dog-things. They shift, circling. Watson tries to roll onto his side to look at what’s going on, but only manages to press himself further into the mud.

One of the dog-things howls and pushes off, darting at something. There is a crackling hiss, and then a swooshing sound, like a blade cutting the air. Watson frowns.

Two things thud to earth on the other side of the clearing, at the same time. Around him, the dog-things back away, whining.

Whatever is on the other side of the clearing cackles, a terrible, wicked sound, but, Watson thinks, clearly human. Despite his best efforts, he begins to hope.

There is a trampling of feet, and then the dog-things beat a retreat, screeching in panicked, craven voices, so close to speech but still so far. The ground thunders with their footfalls, and then falls silent. The fire crackles, the wind whips through the branches, someplace high up…and a pair of quiet, menacing footsteps pad softly to his side.

The flat of a blade prods beneath him, and then with a single flicking motion, turns him onto his back. Watson squints, the brightness of the fire dazzling him. But as his eyes slowly adjust and his vision returns, he blurts out a mute, muffled grunt of surprise.

At first he thinks it is Nemaides, clad in skintight leather, a long sword dripping carmine clutched in her left hand, the curved edge of the blade still thick with gore. He can see the corpse of one of the dog-things, cleft horizontally in two parts at the waist, on the far side of the clearing, its thick ropy intestines coiling out upon themselves.

But as the figure stares down at him, her deathly pale face slowly splitting in a decidedly unpleasant smile, the long, ugly scar on her cheek warping as the muscles beneath it contract, Watson’s high spirits sink all the way down to his boots.

The Assassin crouches down on her haunches, regarding him evenly, taking his chin in her hand and giving him an appraising look. “Now what,” she growls, her voice a low throaty menacing purr, “are you doing here?”

Continue with Chapter 14

Back to Table of Contents

#writing #writeblr #alt lit #lovecraft #sherlock holmes

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single-hot-pirates-in-your-area · 3 years ago

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"The Wailing Mer" (one Galleon), "The Leatherback" (one Dutch Fleut), "The Twin Calfs" (two Schooners)/Lasses of Solitude: Over 320 women and children lead and live in these boats, all led by Giovanna. The "Wailing Mer", a large Galleon ship, is used as the Lasses of Solitude's base, holding tons of ammunition, cannons and treasure. The "Leatherback", a Dutch Fleut, is used as a merchant and trading ship, filled with lesser goods and items, but provides adult services and prostitutes for lonely men out at sea. The "Twin Calfs", two Schooners, are used for raiding, hunting and fishing, and traveling for small groups of women. The Lasses of Solitude is a women-only pirate crew that consists of young women, mothers, children and elderly. Everyone has a role to play on each of the ships, either being cooks in the kitchen, swashbucklers mopping up the floors, inventory keepers, treasurers, "sparrows" in the Crow's nests or nannies taking care of the little ones. Any rivals or thieves that aboard the crew's ships rarely return to theirs alive. Several sloops that consists of two or individual pirates are used as spies that guard the surrounding waters. Each ship has a certain number of row boats, depending on how much weight it can carry.

https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Category:Ship_compartments

https://www.pirateshipvallarta.com/blog/pirate-ship/varieties-of-pirate-ships

Micaela "Siren Mica" Rackham: [27] A woman of aristocratic blood who was stranded at sea during a thunderstorm after her rich uncle's deck boat/ship was turned over by a tsunami, causing it to sink. All of the guests, including her parents, uncle's family, and grandfather, drowned and was taken down with the beloved ship, leaving Micaela as the sole survivor. As she hold on to a barrel for dear life, praying to God for a miracle, sirens found her and pulled her underneath the surface. But before she could become one with the sea in death, they feed her three enchanted siren gems and one mermaid gem that turned her into a half-siren, and now was able to breathe and speak clearly underwater. After the storm passed, Micaela resurfaced. After 2 hours of floating in the water, a small ship passed by. The owner, a solo pirate named Giovanna, helped the poor girl onboard. After spending a week together, discussing about their pasts and futures, Giovanna allowed Micaela to join as a crew member. Micaela is a young adult with slightly tan skin, black hair that fades into a sea-turquoise blue due to the magic of the sirens, and dark brown eyes. As the result of being born into an aristocrat family, Micaela is well-educated in mathematics, history, calligraphy and literature. She knows how to handle different weapons, but prefers her silver cutlass and small pistol. Often times at night, when she can't go to sleep, she'll go out into the deck and sing one of the songs she wrote or wail a sad tune to the sea; her voice is enchanted by the gems to be as emotional and beautiful while she's singing. [Bisexual] (Sea of Thieves/Pirates of the Caribbean)

https://seaofthieves.fandom.com/wiki/Siren

https://seaofthieves.fandom.com/wiki/Siren_Gems

https://seaofthieves.fandom.com/wiki/Merfolk

Captain Giovanna "Gia" Marino: [29] (Italian)

Irie Rasta: [26] (Jamaican) (inventory keeper)

Catalina "the Sparrow" Gorrión: [27] (Spanish/Spaniard) (always in the Crow's nest) (has multiple pet parrots)

Aruna "La Luna" Runaway: [22] (former slave; blacksmith and armorer) (has multiple moon phases tattooed on her arms, torso, and legs)

Ondine: [300?] (A water spirit that protects the crew use hydromancy and black magic)

https://powerlisting.fandom.com/wiki/Water_Magic

#sea of thieves #pirates of the caribbean #ocs #pirates #lady pirates #sirens and mermaids

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kousin-itt · 4 years ago

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I Got Your Back - Part 3

WARNING: Violence and blood in this chapter, along with light implied sexual humor.

Part 3

Block pulled up a holographic screen to display the information as he relayed it to Cavendish and Dakota. “The Triton’s Amulet was a priceless jeweled necklace created by a master jeweler and given to the daughter of a family who was feuding with the jeweler’s family. The feud between the families was full-on bloodshed. I’m talking Montague vs. Capulet level, at each other’s throats at all times. The Triton’s Amulet was a peace offering, a symbol of the friendship between the jeweler and the daughter. It was passed down through the generations until it was donated to a museum, where it was stolen by this man: Tyler Cobalt. Cobalt sells the Triton’s Amulet to a black-market dealer, who later dismantles the necklace and sells the parts for profit. That, gentlemen, is what you are going to prevent.”

“So, we are to prevent the theft of the amulet?” Cavendish guessed.

“Oddly enough, no.” Block said. “See, the Triton’s Amulet being stolen prompts the museum to create better security measures, which later prevents worse thefts from happening. You two are going to tail Cobalt until he steals the amulet, and then you’re going to take the amulet from him before he can sell it.”

“Thieving the thief. I like it.” Dakota chuckled.

“Stay sharp, Chuckles.” Block snapped. “You two won’t have a big window of opportunity. Cobalt steals the amulet late at night and then hops on a plane early the next morning to take the amulet to the black market. Based on our research, Cobalt actually gets killed by the buyer once he gets to the black market; but, ideally, you two dunderheads will retrieve the amulet and Cobalt will be apprehended by the police of his era. Be quick, be careful, and be sneaky.”

Dakota caught the backpack Block tossed to him. Cavendish accepted the paperwork with all their mission information. “We will not let you down, sir.”

“Well, you haven’t so far.” Block shrugged. “But I’m not getting my hopes up. Now get out of here!”

A short while later, the Second-Class Time Travelers were in their time vehicle and speeding off into the time stream.

Dakota fiddled with his seat to get comfortable. “When are we getting our own vehicle? I’m tired of this stupid van.”

“It’s a standard time vehicle for in-training and rookie agents.” Cavendish reasoned. “I’m sure we’ll get a new one once we complete this mission. Besides, it’s not that bad. It’s actually one of the newer models, if I’m not mistaken.”

“Yeah, but the seats could use new stuffing.” Dakota complained.

“If you don’t like it, why don’t you go lay on that mattress you insisted on putting in the back?” Cavendish jerked a thumb behind him. Indeed, the backseats were folded down and there was a twin-size mattress taking up half of the empty space behind them.

“That’s my napping mattress when our missions take too long.” Dakota protested. “If I lay on it now, I’ll fall asleep.”

“I never took you for the type to care.” Cavendish sighed.

“Eh, go boil your head.” Dakota snickered.

“You’re ridiculous.” Cavendish muttered under his breath.

Thankfully, they arrived in the right time and place soon enough. The darkness of the night setting contrasted greatly with the bright colors of the time stream they just exited. Dakota took out the mission file and punched a location into the GPS. Cavendish followed the directions to the museum while Dakota rummaged around in the backpack Block gave them.

“Typical supplies. Rather boring weapons.” Dakota took out two hand pistols, designed appropriately for their current era. Generally, time travelers only used weapons that matched whatever time period they were in, just in case that weapon were to get lost or taken by someone else in that era. Plus, fewer people would ask questions.

“I hope we do not need to use them.” Cavendish was a decent shot, but he despised guns. They had no elegance, no beauty in them. Not to mention it was far too easy for someone to be killed by one.

Dakota hummed in thought. He looked and sounded more focused than Cavendish had seen before. Dakota didn’t like that Block gave them guns. Not because he hated guns, per se, but because he worried about having to use them. Time travelers weren’t supposed to cause deaths in the past unless absolutely necessary.

Cavendish parked the van around the corner from the museum. He and Dakota exited the vehicle and walked up the stairs to the front door of the magnificent building. Dakota pretended to check the hours while covertly investigating the dark interior.

“According to the files, this building’s alarm system only goes off if someone tries to break and enter.” Cavendish said as they walked down the steps.

“But Cobalt gets away and the theft isn’t even discovered until morning.” Dakota remembered that from the file. “How does he get in without tripping the alarm?” He looked ahead and froze, cursing in Italian. Cavendish followed his gaze and saw their target. Cobalt walked towards them, his hands stuffed in his pockets and a cigarette pinched between his lips. He looked inconspicuous, like a barman walking home from a late-night shift.

“Act casual.” Cavendish whispered.

“Does that mean we kiss?” Dakota teased.

Cavendish bit his lip to keep from exploding in indignation and frustration. How can he be joking around at a time like this?! Cavendish wondered. Dakota sniggered again, and the pair kept walking. Cobalt passed them without a second glance.

Smart. Dakota mused. Act like you don’t exist, like you belong where you are now, and most people glance over you. He pulled Cavendish into the next alley they passed, and they watched Cobalt continue down the sidewalk. Once he started climbing the stairs to the museum, Cavendish and Dakota tiptoed closer and hid behind one of the statues out front. They watched in amazement as Cobalt pulled a key from his pocket, unlocked the door to the museum, and strutted inside like he owned the place.

“Clever.” Cavendish tapped his lip in thought as they returned to their van. “Either he stole the key from one of the employees or he found a way to copy it himself.”

“Now we know how he avoided detection until morning.” Dakota said. They sat in their van, moving it only just enough to see the front doors of the museum. “What do you say we jump him when he gets back? Take the amulet, arrest him, and get back home for lunch?”

“Not likely.” Cavendish said. “Did you not see the bulge in his jacket?”

“Was I supposed to see it? What if it’s inappropriate?” Dakota shrugged.

Cavendish face-palmed. Curse his partner’s crude humor. “I’m saying he very clearly had a gun in his pocket. Best if we wait until he comes out. Then, we will follow him home and steal back the Triton’s Amulet while he sleeps. Less chance of us getting shot.”

Dakota checked the time. “Depending on when he gets back and how long it takes to drive there, that only gives us a few hours before his flight in the morning.”

“We can manage.” Cavendish assured.

The confidence in his partner’s voice put Dakota’s mind at ease. They waited, watching the doors until they spotted Cobalt leaving. Cobalt returned to his own car and drove off, with Cavendish and Dakota safely following him. Cobalt left the brightly lit streets and arrived at a dinghy strip of townhouses. Cavendish parked the van in a dark alleyway. Dakota slung their backpack of gear over his shoulder. Cavendish glanced to his satchel in the backseat, and he decided it would be best if he only had his firearm with him. He and Dakota trailed Cobalt’s car to find which building he lived in. Cavendish and Dakota ducked behind some bushes and watched Cobalt park and enter a house. The lights inside came on, and then flipped off fifteen minutes later.

“He’ll probably sleep for a while before his flight.” Dakota guessed. “Let’s get that amulet.”

“Wait a moment. Give him time to really fall asleep.” Cavendish whispered. “If he locked it in a safe, we need time to hack into it.”

“You can crack a safe?” Dakota looked impressed.

“You don’t know everything about me.” Cavendish shrugged with a rather proud smile.

“I hardly know anything about you.” Dakota said. “We really ought to fix that. What’s your favorite food?”

“You really want to do this now?” Cavendish hissed. “What if someone hears us?”

“It’s just past midnight and all the other houses are dark. Relax.” Dakota scoffed.

“I will relax when the mission is complete.” Cavendish declared.

“And then we can talk more? Get to know each other better?” Dakota suggested.

Cavendish opened his mouth to retort, but conflicting words tangled his tongue. Part of him wanted to scoff and assure Dakota that such a thing wasn’t necessary. Another part of him pleaded to say yes. So Cavendish cleared his throat and returned his attention to the house. Despite his mild fear of the dark, he was happy the shadows could mask his discomfort. Why did he find the idea of hanging out with Dakota enjoyable? What was so appealing about the thought that he and this brutish young man could be friends?

Once they agreed it was safe, Cavendish and Dakota snuck up to Cobalt’s house. Dakota picked the lock to the front door, and they crept into the dark house. Dakota handed Cavendish one of the pistols from his backpack. Cavendish gestured for Dakota to go up the stairs, and Dakota nodded to confirm. The pair split off to search the two-level house.

Even in the near-blackness, Cavendish could register the layout of the connected kitchen and living room area. The first word that came to mind was “pathetic.” From the outdated appliances in the kitchen to the weathered easy chair and cheap TV in the living room, Cavendish deduced that Cobalt was a broke loner, which explained why he would steal for profit. If it were different circumstances, Cavendish would entertain the idea of counseling Cobalt instead of leading him to the police. However, Cobalt’s file outlined a history of drug abuse and distribution to high schoolers, so Cavendish felt little pity for the man destined to be arrested that night.

Must focus. Cavendish reminded himself. The sooner Dakota and I find that amulet, the sooner we get out of here.

As Dakota ventured upstairs, Morgan’s lessons echoed in his head. Never step in the middle of the stairs, where creaks are more likely to happen. Keep low to the ground to delay enemy detection. Be aware of everything around you. Listen; do not hear but listen. Dakota felt a tingle go up his spine. He hated silence. He hated the apprehension that came with sneaking around. Any moment now, he might get caught. He wished Cavendish were at his back.

Upstairs, there were three doors, two of which were closed. Snoring came from one door. By reaching into the open door, Dakota could feel a countertop and porcelain sink for a bathroom. Dakota moved deliberately, closer and closer to the closed doors. Since they neighbored each other, Dakota couldn’t tell where the snores came from. After a quick eeny-meeny-miny-moe, Dakota twisted the knob of one door and pushed it open, ever so slowly.

He nearly cursed in Italian again.

Dakota chose the door to the office space, but Cobalt evidently decided to sleep in his rickety office chair before his early flight. Dakota almost shut the door when a glitter caught his eye.

Figures. Dakota silently groaned. The Triton’s Amulet lay on the desk next to Cobalt. Dakota’s mind raced. What would Morgan do? What should he do? What might Cobalt do if Dakota’s plan failed? Dakota had a thought to awaken Cobalt and arrest him, but Block did make it explicitly clear that Cobalt’s fate should rest in the hands of the authorities in this time period. Dakota didn’t much care for the rules. Still, he had no idea if Cobalt had a weapon on him. Better to grab the amulet and get out.

Quietly, Dakota slipped the backpack off his shoulders and set it aside, just in case he had to make a run for it. With his gun trained on Cobalt’s sleeping form, Dakota took the slowest, most silent steps he could manage. He forced his breathing under control to stay quiet. His eyes flickered fast, focusing on Cobalt for a split second and then spending the next half-second staring at the desk so he would not bump into it. Cavendish was still downstairs.

It only took a minute that felt like an hour to reach the desk. Still, Dakota kept his gun pointed at Cobalt. His fingertips gripped the edges of the trident-shaped, jeweled pendent. Dakota lifted the amulet from the desk and slipped it and the chain into his jacket pocket. Dakota moved back to the door, his nerves settling.

He reached the door, and a light cast his shadow against the wall.

Dakota spun around, safety flicked off on his gun, but the brightness of Cobalt’s flashlight blinded him. Cobalt pushed the gun aside and body-slammed Dakota into the wall. He smashed the door against Dakota’s hand and forced him to drop the gun. Dakota shoved Cobalt back and punched him. The flashlight hit Dakota’s face, and he tasted blood. He aimed low and tackled Cobalt like a linebacker, sending them to the ground where they grappled for control. The erratic movement of the light disoriented them. Cobalt may have been similar in build, but he was fueled by desperation, and a desperate man was hard to fight until you found just the right moment to subdue him.

In the poorly lit space, Dakota didn’t see the office chair and tripped over it while trying to escape. The chair landed on top of him, and then so did Cobalt. The flashlight’s beam hit Dakota’s eyes again. The top of the chair’s backrest pressed against his throat, and Cobalt pushed his entire body weight on the chair to keep Dakota pinned.

“Thought you could swipe my prize, huh?” Cobalt sounded as crazy as he looked. “I got someone willing to pay a fortune for that thing, and you are going to pay big time for screwing with me.”

With the chair pressing against his legs, Dakota didn’t have the proper leverage to push or kick it off him. He struggled with all his might, clawing at the poor-quality leather upholstery. He couldn’t get a breath in. His thoughts ran a mile a minute. Where was his gun? Where was Cavendish? What would happen to him if Cobalt realized there was a second intruder in the house?

Dakota fought to stay alive. The room was getting darker. Was the flashlight going out?

“No!”

Cavendish may be lanky in figure, but his full body weight and force of the blow was strong enough to knock Cobalt off Dakota and send both men tumbling across the floor. Dakota coughed harshly, pushing the chair off him. He could just make out Cavendish and Cobalt exchanging punches. Cobalt kept one hand on Cavendish’s gun to keep it away from him. He punched the time traveler in the eye, breaking his glasses. Driven by adrenaline, Cavendish punched back harder. Cobalt managed to get one good hit into Cavendish’s stomach that knocked the wind from him.

Then, Cavendish felt something hard jab him in his ribs. Just before he realized what it was, a gunshot went off, and burning pain coursed through his torso. In shock, Cavendish hit the ground while holding his side. Cobalt had his gun, aimed right at him. Cavendish flinched, preparing himself for another shot that would hopefully kill him immediately.

“Hey!”

Cobalt turned his attention and gun to Dakota. Five shots left Dakota’s gun in quick succession: one hit Cobalt in the forehead, two hit his chest, one hit the wall, and one grazed Cobalt’s shoulder. Cobalt was dead before he hit the floor. Dakota didn’t need to check for a pulse to know that, but he still kicked the gun from the criminal’s hand before he ran to his partner’s side.

#milo murphy's law #balthazar cavendish #vinnie dakota #fanfic

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phantomarchive · 4 years ago

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character files.

full name : Vilja Eveliina Järvi (Vill-yuh Eh-vuh-lee-nuh Yar-vee) titles : V occupation : Merc, streetkid, picking up and being hired for odd jobs that other people don’t want to do, usually from Fixers age : 22 (December 10th, 2054) gender : Female sexuality : Pansexual ethnic group : Finnish spoken languages : Finnish, English, Japanese religion : Atheist height : 5′10″ ; 6′10″-6′2″ in the heels she wears (shoes and boots) body type : Athletic, fit, trim eyes : Blue tattoos : Back piece : Compass // Over her heart : Watercolor waves // Left side : Water & Flowers // Right wrist : EKG Line // Underbust : Watercolor flowers // Verse dependent thigh tattoo : Anchor // Verse dependent arm tattoo : phoenix wrapping around her right arm // Scarification in twin lines up her back and across her shoulder blades, aesthetic but meant to cover actual scars received as a teenager smoking : Started when she was 15, stopped at 18, started again after having Johnny in her head for too long drinking : Frequently, but not usually enough to get drunk hobbies : Working out, cardio & lifting, going to the gun range (particularly with pistols and precision rifles), dabbles a bit in art and likes bright colors, doesn’t think she can sing but likes to sing or hum while working or painting, likes cleaning / fixing / upgrading old guns, tries her hand at making little trinkets but usually just to keep her fidgety hands busy virgin : Nope favourite drink : More of a coffee drinker, medium roast with various creams mixed in. Will drink it black, but prefers it less bitter favourite food : Is very partial to Italian food, especially pasta dishes. Manicotti is a dream of a dish and if she could get some made really well, she’d have it more often favourite music : Eclectic tastes. Will listen to basically anything but definitely enjoys a good beat and a rhythm and tune you can sing or hum to clothing : Ever-changing and relatively unpredictable. Some days it’s bright shirts and short shorts with sneakers, others it’s leather pants and jackets with aviators, and some days it’s sweatpants and tank tops. She loves bright colors, though, and will often have a splash of color, ranging from an accent piece to her entire outfit. Loves shoes and boots with tall heels, usually around 3″-4″. Pants and shorts are preferable, depending on the weather. Doesn’t wear hats often, but will put her hair up in a ponytail or a high bun. Has eyeliner tattoos so she never has to do it herself, but wears eyeshadow and lip gloss in various colors. Midriff tops are some of her favorites.

tagged by : @themechaneer told me to tagging : Anyone who read about V’s back scars, and anyone who wants to do it

REPOST! Don’t reblog

#〘 The city reaches out and embraces you with its vast indifference 【Ｖ】 Muse 〙#〘 The city reaches out and embraces you with its vast indifference 【Ｖ】 Headcanon 〙

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lenawritesjojos · 5 years ago

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Masterlist

I decided to do this so you can find all my works better! :D

Under the cut it’s organized by parts, with the names of the character in bold. If there’s a (hc) right next to it, it means they are headcanons. If there’s nothing, then it’s a scenario :)

Note: here you can find my AO3 accounts! >>> hawthornbrooke and tiny_mudkip (not jjba)

Phantom Blood:

Dio Brando

Dio Brando with a tomboyish childhood friend (hc)

Dio Brando x reader, Christmas scenario

Pre-vampire Dio Brando with a headstrong wife (hc)

Jonathan, Dio and Jotaro reacting to their s/o asking them to dance with them (hc)

Jonathan Joestar

Jonathan with an insecure s/o

Jonathan with insecure reader about their accent and voice (hc)

“I do” kiss (kiss prompt #18)

Jonathan, Dio and Jotaro reacting to their s/o asking them to dance with them (hc)

Battle Tendency:

Joseph Joestar

Young Joseph fluff (hc)

Study session with Joseph

Joseph with a chubby and insecure reader (hc)

Unconventionality - Werewolf!Joseph x Vampire!Reader scenario

Staring contest (x reader)

Caesar Zeppeli

Caesar Zeppeli with a daughter (hc)

Josuke, Mista and Caesar having a crush on you while you tease them verbally (hc)

Suzie Q

Caught off-guard kiss scenario (kiss prompt #56)

Misc.

Joseph and Caesar with a s/o who suffers from Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome (hc)

Stardust Crusaders:

Jotaro Kujo

Jotaro x reader fluffy scenario

Stand fight with Jotaro

Jotaro falling for his complete opposite

Jotaro and reader reunite and he still has feelings for you

Baby Jotaro with his grandparents fluff (hc)

General Jotaro fluff headcanons

Jealous!Jotaro with fem s/o (hc)

Josuke and Jotaro reacting to an asexual s/o (hc)

Jonathan, Dio and Jotaro reacting to their s/o asking them to dance with them (hc)

DIO

DIO with a small, shy and loving s/o (hc)

Sleepy car ride with DIO

DIO with a maid s/o (hc)

DIO with a daughter (hc)

DIO with a fem s/o with an ambitious nature but who’s also kind and values her own beliefs (hc)

Height difference kisses (kiss prompt #73)

Modern AU Dio with doctor!s/o and Giorno as their son (hc)

Joseph Joestar

Sleeping headcanons for old Joseph

Fluff headcanons for old Joseph

Old Joseph with a shy s/o (hc)

Old Joseph dating someone younger with an obvious age gap (hc)

Mohammed Avdol

Study issues - scenario with Abdul

Jean-Pierre Polnareff

Polnareff with a girly s/o meeting the gang (hc)

Noriaki Kakyoin

Josuke, Giorno and Kakyoin reacting to their s/o playing with their hair (hc)

Crusaders

Crusaders + DIO with a s/o who loves Christmas (hc)

Kinds of girls the Crusaders would like

The Crusaders being there for you when your dog is very sick (hc)

The Crusaders meeting the reader, a child with demonic powers (hc)

The Crusaders reacting to the reader being a mermaid (hc)

The Crusaders with a nb boyfriend who makes jokes and is silly (hc)

Jotaro and Kakyoin fighting against each other to win reader’s love (hc)

Crusaders finding out their s/o is into knife play (hc)

Jotaro’s s/o with allergy attacks + Crusaders (hc) (Thomas)

Diamond is Unbreakable:

Josuke Higashikata

Holding hands with Josuke

Dumbasses in love

Josuke and Jotaro reacting to an asexual s/o (hc)

Josuke, Giorno and Kakyoin reacting to their s/o playing with their hair (hc)

Josuke, Mista and Caesar having a crush on you while you tease them verbally (hc)

Josuke, Johnny and Gyro with a s/o insecure of having small tits (hc)

Hypothermia - Josuke scenario

Josuke and Narancia with a s/o who loves cats and has one (hc)

4taro

The woods, modern AU scenario with Jotaro

Stopping the kiss to say “I’m sorry are you sure you-” (kiss prompt #67)

Accidentally witnessed kiss + Hiding/hoping not to be caught kiss (prompts #40 and #52)

Fluffy platonic headcanons with reader who likes marine biology (hc)

Jotaro with a witch!reader (hc)

Kira Yoshikage

Kira Yoshikage with a similar personality s/o (hc)

Kira seeing his s/o’s hands in a bad state

Kira with a shy girl who has a crush on him (hc)

Kira with a girlfriend who has a hand kink too (hc)

Akira Otoishi

Getting shot by Akira with the arrow

Kishibe Rohan

Rohan with an artist s/o who is a fan of his manga (hc)

Okuyasu Nijimura

Okuyasu and reader pinning over each other (hc)

Misc.

Josuke and Okuyasu with a dumbass energy reader (hc)

Coming out as FTM to the gang (hc)

Vento Aureo:

Giorno Giovanna

Giorno with a tomboyish s/o (hc)

Fem s/o confessing her feelings for Giorno

Giorno with a s/o who wants to be a princess (hc)

Giorno with a stubborn fem s/o (hc)

Giorno with a tsundere fem s/o (hc)

Daddy issues (fluff, sfw)

Giorno with a s/o who has a strong stand and selfless personality (hc)

Josuke, Giorno and Kakyoin reacting to their s/o playing with their hair (hc)

You being like a mother/older sister figure to Giorno (hc)

Giorno with a s/o who suffers from depression and PTSD (hc)

Bruno Bucciarati

Small scenario/discussion with Bruno and Sticky Fingers

Hooking up with Bruno and him later being your boss

Guido Mista

Mista with a s/o who spoils the Sex Pistols (hc)

Fooling around - tsundere!s/o scenario

Josuke, Mista and Caesar having a crush on you while you tease them verbally (hc)

First date - Mista x future!s/o scenario

Narancia Ghirga

Secret Santa with Narancia

Reader being Fugo’s twin sister and dating Narancia (hc)

Narancia going on an undercover mission with his crush (hc)

Josuke and Narancia with a s/o who loves cats and has one (hc)

Late-night spooning - x male!reader

Hero - x gender neutral!reader

Leone Abbacchio

Abbacchio finding out his s/o named their Wooloo ‘Leone’ (hc)

Puppy love

Abbacchio with flat chested, self conscious s/o (hc)

Pannacotta Fugo

Height difference kisses (kiss prompt #73)

Fugo comforting his crush who is going through a breakup (hc)

Risotto Nero

Risotto with a very affectionate cat (hc)

Car singing session

NSFW with a new smol member of la Squadra.

Diavolo

Diavolo with a blind s/o (hc)

Prosciutto

Prosciutto with a (stereotypical) Russian girlfriend (hc)

Misc.

Bucci gang reacting to their s/o in a big production (hc)

Mista and Abbacchio with a s/o who gets cold easily (hc)

Scents the Bucci Gang prefer

Doppio and Diavolo with a s/o who is slowly dying (hc)

Bucci gang with a Mexican s/o (hc)

Bruno, Abbacchio and Mista practicing their lines in front of a mirror before asking s/o out on their first date

Giorno, Risotto and Abbacchio with a 4ft tall s/o (hc)

Morning routine of the Bucci Gang

Stone Ocean:

Jolyne Cujoh

Walk of shame, scenario with Jolyne

Jolyne with a fem s/o who’s insecure about being intimate (hc)

Jolyne with a s/o whose stand can turn them invisible and make them phase through things (hc)

Narciso Anasui

NSFW headcanons with Anasui and a sub fem s/o (hc)

Part 6 Jotaro

Jolyne’s friend having a crush on DILF Jotaro (hc)

Misc.

Memes shared in Jolyne, Hermes and Foo Fighter’s groupchat

Steel Ball Run:

Johnny Joestar

First time insecurities

Gyro Zeppeli

Italian comfort - x reader scenario

Cuddles and teddy bears - x reader scenario

Diego Brando

Relationship headcanons with a small, gentle and motherly s/o (hc)

Diego Brando fluff headcanons (hc)

Diego Brando with a quiet s/o who loves zoology and art (hc)

Hot Pants

Relationship headcanons for Hot Pants

Misc.

Diego and Gyro with a s/o with acne (hc)

Johnny and Diego with a jumpy and shy s/o (hc)

Josuke, Johnny and Gyro with a s/o insecure of having small tits (hc)

Johnny, Gyro and Diego with a s/o who’s on their period (hc)

JoJolion:

Other:

The JoJos with a polyglot s/o (hc)

Scents the JoJos like (hc)

JoJos’ cuddling headcanons

JoJos reacting to the reader being carried away by a flock of birds (hc) (Thomas)

Surprise kiss scenarios with 1-5 JoJos

Tickle fight headcanons with the JoJos (hc)

1-6 JoJos meeting a long lost relative (hc)

Emoji headcanons

Caesar Zeppeli

DIO: 1, 2, 3, 4

Kira Yoshikage: 1, 2

Akira Otoishi(DiU)

Pannacotta Fugo

Weather Report

Bruno Bucciarati

#masterlist #jojo's bizarre adventure #jjba

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wheremytwinwatches · 5 years ago

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[Where My Twin Watches]: Full Metal Alchemist Brotherhood Episode 15

Blargage. Sorry about the pause guys, work got crazy there for a while. For the record, I understand that there is a second season to Brotherhood (for some reason broken up into multiple parts on iTunes), I was just expecting that there would be an intro change at the season halfway point cause I’ve gotten used to that from other anime. Granted, the ones that come to mind are one-season or currently-only-one-season shows like KlK or AoT, so that perspective’s probably a little skewed. Onwards with Brotherhood!

Episode 15 - Envoy from the East We open in a city at ni- wait, what’s with the electricity? I thought the Terminator died last episode? Ah, an Alchemist duel, got it. In the alleyway the smoke clears to show what. What is this. Why am I looking at an Evil Mister Monopoly?

Mr. Monopoly is chuckling as he fights oh hai Scar, how’s it going? No sunglasses? Heeey, this episode doesn’t have any subtitles. How am I supposed to spell this guy’s name then? (currently boasting that he’s the Silver Alchemist, name sounds vaguely Italian) Whatever, I’ll just stick with Mr. Monopoly. Not like he’ll be around much longer, facing Scar. Mr. Monopoly is certainly living up to his name, Transmuting numerous presumably silver weapons to fling at Scar. Doing fairly well too, dodging the Ishvalan’s attacks when he has a peg leg. Captain Monopoly, then? But it doesn’t last, one scratch is exchanged for a broken peg leg, the Silver Alchemist takes a bath and gets a Face Death Grab. Bye, Captain Monopoly! Ooh, new intro! Seems we’ve got a guy singing the intro this time, pale-shaded Al and Ed before we get normal-colored Ed on a hill reaching towards the sun/title. Hey, the captions are back! Wait no, it’s the gossiping at Central from last episode, Roy walking through the hallway. Guess the captions are broken this episode, turning them off. Odd. Intro continues with clouded skies, Ed and Al sitting under a tree- suddenly panda? Yeah there’s a little girl with a little panda on her head, striking martial arts poses. The titular “Envoy from the East”? Now another new character, older black-haired guy with a ponytail and sword standing on some ruins, what looks like a pair of ninjas drop into the scene before we transition. Quick shots of Roy’s Crew (Havoc, Furey, two others I don’t remember but one appears to be a Big Eater, and Riza) and Roy himself. Now we’re back to Ed glaring at the camera, a clear shot of Hohenheim/Papa Elric glancing back? Ooooh, they’re looking at each other in a graveyard, no doubt over whose grave is between them. Shot of metal-armed Ed getting pulled into the Gate, while a human right hand reaches for him? Dunno if symbolic or if he frak’d up again. Winry is sitting at a desk next to a picture board, we see the Elric Family with Papa Elric’s face still covered. Quick scenes of Scar surrounded by flames (“dang it, I did leave the stove on”), Lust and Gluttony on a rooftop at night (what the heck is up with Gluttony’s face?!), a dark red-eyed face surrounded by screaming masks (charming), an Uroborus left eye that I recognize as Bradley/Wrath, and Father/clearly Papa Elric sitting in his Pipe Chair holding a cup of “wine”. What is his deal, even? More fight scenes, Ed earthbending at Envy and Gluttony, Bradley firebending at Lust, werewolves charging at Panda Girl? Who’s got some neat Alchemy moves, cool! Then we get Bradley swordfighting Sword Man and the ninjas, who are actually getting in some hits? Seeing as we know that Bradley is a Goth now, this makes me very happy! Then Screaming!Scar fighting Screaming!Ed, screen whites out from their attack before we get Ed closing his watch (Don’t Forget Oct. 11), and the Elric Brothers walk along a traintrack into a desert. Episode proper continues with Scar, who does not seem happy and is asking “Who is this?” Inside the dilapidated house is that weasly guy from last episode who led the bounty hunters to Scar, is Scar crashing at his place? There’s also Intro!Girl, who politely introduces herself (going without captions here, apologies for misspelling) as Mei-Chang. And that is a little panda she has with her. Cute! Mei-Chang’s saying that “Master Yoki” (Scar shoots Yoki a look at this) found her collapsed by the side of the road and brought her to the house. Scar tries to shoo her out as she’s feeling better now, but Mei sees that Scar’s leg is cut, and says that she’ll close the wound. She sets up a standard circle-star TC, but puts shuriken at the corners? Oooh, we get to see foreign Alchemy styles now, neat! Scar and Yoki are shocked to see the injury healed so quickly, Mei says that’s it a skill called (please forgive the spelling, not having captions is really annoying) “Alcahestiry from the land of Shing”. Yoki scoffs at Mei’s claim that she crossed the desert from the east, Mei insists that she did it along with Shao-Mei (Assuming the tiny panda here). Scar is shocked when said panda looks back at Scar while Mei’s saying all this, he reaches out to either Hand O’ Doom it or pet it, I can’t tell which. Mei looks back though, and Scar freezes. Which means Mei sees his tattooed arm and identifies it as Alcahestiry? Ooh, Scar family backstory! Scar says that his brother researched both Alchemy and Alcahestiry (so there’s a distinction between the practices, then). Mei is very complimentary of his brother’s skill. Methinks that Scar doesn’t like to think about how he got the tattoo, though. Yoki notes that with Scar healed they can continue on to Central, Mei invites herself along. Saying something about immortality? Yoki dismisses her, and gets a bite from the panda for his rudeness. Ha! We get a mental monologue from Mei that she knows immortality doesn’t work with Alcahestiry, but it is possible through alchemy (Yoki’s behind her still screaming about the panda eating his hand, Scar’s sitting clearly already Done With This). That’s why Mei’s here, to meet the man she’s heard so much about. Wait, what’s with the roses and music… uh oh. Oh dear Leto no. Mei’s got a crush on Edward Elric. As cute as that is, I think Ed’s a little old for you, dear. Also, Winry. Central at night now, a blond woman (looks kinda like Riza) is walking her dog through an alleyway when the dog spins around and starts growling. Creepy laughing? Aw crap I know that hollow-voice, that’s Barry the Chopper! Run! Wait… ha! Ok, sorry for not recognizing you properly Riza, haven’t seen you out of uniform before. When faced with a Soul Armor serial killer, Riza just pulls a pistol from her groceries and starts blasting at the panicking Barry. Who tries to freak her out by removing his helmet? Pfft, sorry dude. That might work for some civilians, but Hawkeye knows Al. She just blasts his helmet away. Which makes Barry start crushing on Riza? Ew, no. Also, props to the dog who’s gnawing at Barry’s cloak. We’re at a warehouse now, puppy standing guard as it seems that Barry’s being questioned by Roy and his Totally Non-Military Civilian Friends. With Barry the crew’s got the lead on the secret lab that Bradley ordered Armstrong not to discuss. Now that Roy’s clued into the military producing Philosopher Stones, he wants to investigate the researchers- but it seems that when their research was done they got used to make Stones as well. Roy also asks if Barry was the one who killed Hughes, but that’s a dead end. Hey, it’s Rush Valley! Finally, we get to see Winry again. How’s her apprenticeship going? The mechanist is walking out of a story when she hears a familiar voice: Edward! Who’s reeeealy hoping that she’s in a generous mood today. Because yeah, Ed’s arm took a bit of a beating in the last episodes. Winry is not happy about this. Later, Winry is patching up Ed’s arm (who is slumped on a table, blood-stained wrench by his side), chiding him for getting into trouble even when their pickpocket acquaintance has an honest job as an odd-job woman. As for the brothers, they’ve made some progress but can’t give any details. Winry’s dones with the patch-job, but still needs a few parts to finish it, so until then she shoo’s the two out to kill some time. Ed’s complaining about there being nothing to do as a non-engineer in a town of nothing but automail shops. But Al’s found something in an alleyway. Aw, do we get a cute “caring for a stray cat” episode? Actually, wasn’t there a white cat in the credits scene? Oh! Not a cat then, rather an unconscious Intro-Sequence character in the form of Sword Guy. And rather than an extended healing sequence, we cut right to the guy (who sounds an awful lot like Vic from Red vs Blue) chattering away at a table piled with dishes, saying that they shouldn’t quibble about who’s paying (not him). Sword Guy says that he’s from Shing (sorry, actual map shows up saying that it’s Xing), and he crossed the desert to visit the ruins of Xerxes. *notes namedrop for future episodes, there’s no way that mention won’t pay off later* Sword Guy (when are we getting his actual name?) is info-dumping about Alcahestiry, saying that it’s actually Alchemy, or probably closer to Bio-Alchemy given the emphasis in Xing for healing. Ed remarks that for Amestris it’s more for military, what with border skirmishes to the south (Aerugo) and west (Creta), with a huge country Drachma to the north, with a sort of Russian Agreement: tentative non-aggression treaty and there’s a wintery mountain range between them, but relations are dicey. Finally there are introductions, Sword Guy says he’s Ling-Yao. Buuuut he’s not actually an Alcahestrist, he’s just in town looking for something: *dramatic eye opening* The Philosopher’s Stone. Aw come on, I was just starting to like this guy. Don’t tell me he’s another “Immortality at the expense of other lives” jerk. Ed claims that he doesn’t know anything, Ling wonders if they’re lying, snaps his fingers and SUDDENLY NINJAS!

*Sigh* Yep, Ling smirks and says he want’s to achieve immortality. Well we did kill off Greed last episode, I guess we needed someone to take his place. Mid-episode pause here, we get character portraits for May Chang (w/ Shao May) and Ling Yao. Ok, so got Sword Man’s name right, I blame Avatar for mistyping May’s name. Back to the show, Ling’s telling Ed to spill the beans, Ed bluffs that it’s a bunch of nonsense. Then he breaks free nope boot to the head. Al gets tossed too, these guys are no joke. But if they can survive Teacher, they can survive these ninjas! Across the city pickpocket-girl (sorry I can’t remember your name) notices the sparks and smoke from the fight, and Ling just laughs as he sees the fight move away and orders some dessert. Sliding along some awfully large pipes now Ed transmutes a metal staff (and of course damaging the infrastructure like that causes no immediate problems), but Silent Ninja is easily beating Ed in this close-quarters combat. Experience fighting other Alchemists? Ed rants about getting attacked just because he didn’t give them information, “you and your boss with the freaky closed eyes”- wow ok Silent Ninja really didn’t like that, tried to poke out Ed’s eyes. Yeesh. Aw, poor baby Ed. He was so proud to finally land a hit on Silent Ninja, but nope another boot to the head. But now that Ed’s seen that Silent Ninja’s weakness is insulting Ling (hmmm, sudden suspicions about Silent Ninja from that), he has a plan. Begin the trolling! On Al’s side of the fight, he’s running down the street when pickpocket girl starts calmly jogging along side him. Al’s happy to see Paninya (thank you!) again, asks her for a favor. Mustache Ninja is thinking about how “every living person emits a flow of ki”, but he doesn’t sense any from Al. So he doesn’t know that Al’s a Soul Armor, then? Quick Al, pull a Barry and remove your helmet! Suddenly Al and Paninya turn around, Mustache scoffs at the aid of one person- and we’re back to Ed vs Silent. Ed is doing what he does best and annoying the crap out of his opponent, a dodge and gutpunch later he’s got Silent by the mask and yup no surprises here that Silent is a lady. Ed is shocked (shocked I say) that he’s been fighting a girl. Buddy, you of all people should be aware that the ladies are some of the biggest badasses in this show. Riza, Winry, Teacher, a quick flash of Paninya aiming her cannon-knee… and Silent’s now neutralized Ed’s arm and dropped a grenade in his face. Ouch. The townfolk panic at the dual explosions (really? You lot live in a town revolving around Automail, I’d think you’d be used to events like this), Mustache is thinking that this county is a force to be reckoned with, when Al swoops in and binds him to the town’s sign and demasks him. Mustache is surprised to see “Alkahistry without an array”, reminder at how special the brothers are to Transmute without TCs. On brother’s end… things could be going a little better. We see Ed’s mechanical arm reaching up through rubble as Silent walks up, and now I need a new name for her as she complains that she overdid it and that Master Ling will be furious- aha, the arm’s detached! A snare is sprung and the ninja’s hoisted into the air, Ed reclaims his arm and chides her for using a weapon that would have killed anyone else. Callback to the island, setting traps for rabbits. Nice continuity! Al and Paninya arrive with Mustache in hand- And then Sword Man shows up all chipper, complimenting their skills and offering them jobs to take over the country. Ed’s giving this the proper response, when… uh oh. The townfolk aren’t very happy right now, somebody’s gonna have to cover all these damages. Ed points to Ling, who suddenly can’t speak Amestrisian good and skedadles. And of course in the few seconds we looked away from the ninjas there’s nothing but cut ropes now.

Welp, now to fix everything back up- oh right, Ed’s armless. Wait, why is it surprising that Al can Transmute without a TC now? This is a recent thing? I honestly thought he could do it from the beginning, my bad. Aw, chin up Ed. Just because your younger brother is taller than you and now he’s got your super special no-TC style as well, it doesn’t mean you aren’t important. Just… less so. Poor, poor Ed, collapsing in despair and writing something in blood. No subtitles here, can someone translate for me? Later that day, the Elric Brothers return to the AutoMail shop where Winry is apprenticing, and guess who they find? [Ling]: “Hello, we meet again!”

Ed immediately bashes Ling over the head with his detached arm, who just tries acting all friendly. Still hoping to hire the brothers? Ah, info on the ninjas! I’m approximating the girl’s name as Lahn-Fahn, and the old man is Fu. Their family (so they’re related? Father/daughter?) has served his for generations, and are quite good as we’ve seen. So what about Sword Man, what’s Ling’s deal that he has ninjas working for his family? (Also, this guy in a purple shirt and suspenders drinking tea with Ling, another employee?) Oh, Ling’s “the Emperor’s son”! The Elrics… burst out laughing? Ling’s a little nonplussed about this reaction, but the Elrics explain that they just didn’t see it coming, that the guy who they found collapsed in an alley and mooched food off of them is a prince. Lahn-Fahn does not approve of this disrespect, yikes. Oh, a lesson in Xing politics, the country’s broken up into 50 clans, and the Emperor gets married to a daughter of each of the clan leaders (yikes). Currently Ling shares the prestigious title of Prince with 23 other sons, with him at #12. Obviously this family setup makes succession complicated, and with the current Emperor’s health iffy all the clans are working to gain favor. Ling’s attempt is to discover immortality, I’m assuming for himself to increase his own survival rather than give it to dear old pops and never get the job. So he asks again for info, Ed refuses to say anything, and the noble Prince immediately latches onto Ed and declares that he’s sticking around until Ed cracks. Ed beings wailing on Ling with his arm, Lahn-Fahn prepares to respond to this aggression- Uh oh. Winry’s just arrived, talking about how there was some sort of fight on Main Street. Just in time to see Ed waving around the broken arm she’d fixed earlier that day. Ling watches with a vapid grin as tools go flying and Ed pleads for nonexistent mercy, until Fu pokes his head through the window for his young lord. On the rooftop, Fu asks why Ling is acting subservient to a commoner, Ling just says that with the fate of 500,000 clansmen on the line a little bowing is a small price to pay. Huh. So is his clan at risk if he doesn’t become Emperor? Inside the shop Winry’s asking where Ed plans to go and break his automail this time, working away at the arm as Purple-Shirt looks on (I’m assuming that he’s the mechanic Winry’s working for right now). Al mentions that they’re planning on continuing their investigations in Central, Winry asks to go along to- uuuuuuuuuuuuugh. [Winry]: “I’d like to go see the Hughes’ family again.” Whyyyyy. Why must these poor kids be heading towards such bad news? Ugh, the scene where they’re told what happened is going to be excruciating. Al asks about Winry’s work in Rush Valley, Purple-Shirt (who Winry calls Mr. Garfield and who I now headcanon as having tea and discussing prototypes with Leeron) encourages her to take a break. [Ed]: “Okay, we’ll all go!” [Al]: “Central, here we come!” [Winry]: *Cheerful giggle* [Ling]: “Oh, we’re going to Central? How exciting!” Snrk. Cut to a wagon, with a sleeping May and Shao in the back (based on tropes I can guess that May’s a half-sister Xing Princess who’s off to try and find the secret of immortality like Ling, although I’d be impressed if the writer subverted expectations by having them be unrelated). Yoki’s chattering about how he doesn’t know Scar’s name, the Ishvalan says that names among his people are considered sacred gifts from God. But he’s renounced his name, and snaps at Yoki to keep moving. [Scar]: “I am walking down a path with no return. So I will leave behind me every gift I have received from God.” New credits sequence! Singing is a mix of English and Japanese, a view of the countryside behind a short white-stone wall. Winry’s standing against a blue cloudy sky with hair blowing, Ed’s looking away from the camera in his red cloak, same with Al, shot of their burnt-down house. The new characters of Ling and his Ninjas get dramatic determined poses, May and Shao get their own against a sunset background. Flashback of Baby!Ed and Baby!Al shopping for groceries, then walking along a path back home as the sun sets. Return to the wall of pictures (with Papa!Elric’s face still covered, come on show we know what he looks like), and then Papa!Elric looking away from the camera towards Central. And back to present Ed and Al walking towards the horizon, sequence ends with a night-time shot of the Rockbell’s home. Alright! New characters from Xing promise some new shenanigans, with everyone going back to Central I’d say things are coming to a head but we’re only a little over halfway through the first season. Bleh, our poor babies learning about Hughes is going to be awful, can we get that out of the way soon so it’s not hanging over our heads anymore? Assuming that they manage to get back home next episode and aren’t delayed by filler, we’ll see how things shake out in Central.

#wmtw #where my twin watches #ranubis #full metal alchemist #full metal alchemist brotherhood #fmab #fmab 15

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