#Lillian claw her way back

[idalenn]

You are hailed as a hero

Your weapon gave the delivering blow to that great evil and so you are celebrated and lauded as the people's hero. Any tavern you wander into falls into silence when you enter before erupting in cheers and thanks. Children run up to you in the street to hear the grizzly details of how you did it. Is this what you wanted? Or is this admiration all too much?

thanks for the tag @elliewiltarwyn!

tagging @zoroarkthief @paintedscales @improvised-finish @zeloinator @candycryptids and anyone who has wishes to take part!

[angel-graces-world-of-chaos]

I told you so

Author Note: Here's some more of my OC x Bodhi! If you haven't seen my other fic, I highly recommend (find it here). Enjoy and feedback/reblogs/comments/likes are much appreciated xx

Divider by me — if you would like to use it, please tag or credit me x

Word Count: 773-ish

“Shit!” Lillian yells as she sprints through the fortress, ducking between riders as First Wing tries to protect their egg. Seimra snarled angrily in her head as a rider almost lobbed her head off with a sword: be careful!

Yeah, yeah, sorry. Now shush! Lillian hissed back, slamming her shields down to block out further commentary from her blue daggertail. Racing up the steps, the second-year ducked and twisted as she dodged daggers and other weaponry being thrown at her. Panting she reached the top of the stairs to find a group of riders stationed around First Wing’s egg.

“I don’t suppose you’d save me the fight and just hand it over, right?” Lillian grinned, holding her palm up and wiggling her fingers cheekily as she glanced around the room for anything that might help her defeat five riders. “No? Oh well.” With that, she launched herself into the fight, dancing out of the way as the riders tried to take her down. 

Seimra, the rule is, I only have to bring the egg back, right? Lillian asked as she continued to duck and weave between riders. I don’t need to fight them all to get it…

You see? Brain over brawn, silly child.

Yeah, yeah. Ducking a potential fatal blow to the head, Lillian had managed to sneak her way to the egg. Grabbing it, she yelled a quick thank you to the stunned group of riders and sprinted back down the stairs, vaulting onto her dragon from the fortress wall.

Tell the others we have the egg. Lillian smiled, eyes shining brightly as she cradled the egg in her hands. Hopefully they were able to protect our flag as well.

CRACK!

What in the gods was that?! Lillian startled, glancing around across the valley, trying to pin-point the sound. I believe that was Tairn’s rider, Seimra grumbled, moving her head to point at a now smouldering fortress. Your not-mate has requested you land in the valley with the rest of your section and announce the successful retrieval of the egg.

My not-mate? Lillian questioned.

Yes. Cuir’s rider. You have said he is not your mate, despite your wish to be his.

B-bodhi?? You’re talking— SEIMRA!

Seimra huffed, throwing a side glance at her rider, before beginning her descent to the training fields.

HE ISN’T!

Lillian merely received a huff in response, as she jumped down from her dragon and began to walk towards the group of riders that had gathered.

“There she is!” Imogen yelled, grinning wildly as she sprinted towards the blonde. “You got the egg!” Imogen launched her arms around Lillian, jumping up and down, “and we kept the flag! We won!”

Lillian laughed happily, glancing around at the two sections that had gathered around her. “Is Claw Section still out?”

Bodhi answered, shouldering his way through to stand on her other side: “Yeah, Garrick, Violet and Xaden are with them as well. I’m really proud of you.” He whispered the last part, lips brushing her ear gently, before he pulled back and grinned at her, “I wanted to talk to you tonight. Meet at our usual spot?” Lillian nodded, glancing at him before turning back to the rest of the riders.

“Alright listen up! You did well, and given we are the only wing to have succeeded in keeping our flag and capturing an egg, I expect we’ll be the winners of Squad Battle! So! Wash up and ensure all chores are done, then head to dinner! Tail Section, although I’m not your Section Leader, I suggest you do the same!”

Riders cheered and began to head back to the quadrant, chatting happily amongst themselves. “I wish you were our Section Leader.” Imogen sighs, “Garrick’s such a stickler for rules. I bet he’d have made us do other shit first before we could have even thought about food.”

Lillian snorted, “He definitely would. You’ve got a pretty good EXO though…” She nudged Imogen, tilting her head towards Bodhi. “Yeah, but we all know he’d much rather be in your sec—“ Before Imogen could finish, Bodhi had her in a headlock, covering her mouth so she couldn’t say anything. “And that is our cue to head off the field.” Bodhi glared at Imogen, marching towards the quadrant with her still stuck in a headlock.

A nudge pulled Lillian out of her daze and she glanced back at Seimra. What?

I don’t like saying ‘I told you so’, but—

“The hell you don’t, it’s your favourite phrase!” Lillian cried, throwing her hands in the air and almost dropping the egg as she does it. Shit! 

[thelampisaflashlight]

A Cup of Sugar

[Something, something, Copia and his neighbor have a friendly discussion.]

"When I was in school, studying French, our teacher made us read The Stranger by Albert Camus." Jarno says, the cigarette clasped between his fingers becoming a long line of ash, dropping off onto the stone beneath the railing, "...I was not a particularly good student, my pronunciation was always off, but I did okay with reading, understood grammar and that sort of thing... better on paper than in practice, you know?"

He smiles.

"The book, I couldn't tell you if it was an enjoyable read, but it was a short one, a hundred and twenty-three pages or something of the sort, just one, two, three... I never did bother with it. Reading the book, but the opening line always stuck with me." he continues, finally flicking the ash away, brushing his hand over the railing to clean up the bit that had fallen there, "<<Aujourd'hui Maman est morte.>>"

"Today," he says, "Mother has died."

Jarno snuffs out his cigarette and drops the butt into his empty soda can.

"...I think part of the reason I'm so invested in Lillian Hess' case, is because she was like me." he explains, "A poor student, from a working class family... Going nowhere fast."

He leans against the railing, arms folded.

"We were in the same French class, acquaintances at best, but we talked... And it's funny in the way things are also profoundly... unfunny, but I keep thinking of that line when I think of her."

Jarno inhales slow and deep.

"I did not have a crush or some deep connection to Lillian, she and I spoke maybe once in the entire time we were in school together, but since she disappeared, the casual frankness in which others have spoken of her death hits me so..."

He stands up straight rolling his shoulders.

"Back then, it could have been me, and a sick part of me wonders why it wasn't." he sighs, "We had the same routine, neither of us were particularly fit, easy to pick off, and we were the kind of kids that always seemed to just... run away... but Lillian didn't run away, she was taken. I ran... and wound up back here, in this town."

Copia looks out over the rolling fields beyond the abbey's main walls, at the lake and the forest, "To here."

"To here." he nods, facing the older man now, "They want to blame you -your... disciples- for Lillian's disappearance, for her death, even if they never found more than a finger, they still found it in your woods."

"And what do you think happened to Miss. Hess, Mister Sheers?" the father asks, mismatched eyes aglow, "Do you wish to make any claims of foul play?"

Jarno slides his hands into his pockets.

"I have no interest in any of that."

"Then why have you come?"

He withdraws an object wrapped in a tawny terrycloth, carefully, he unfolds it to reveal a wickedly sharp looking claw.

"I know that whatever killed Lillian was not human, nor a hungry bear." he holds the claw out for Copia to examine, "You and I both know what beast this came from."

Copia's face sours as he takes the claw into his gloved hand.

"One of them has tasted human flesh and blood, they've broken their oath... a feral ghoul, or a free one."

"And you know of the ghouls, how?"

Jarno chuckles.

"I grew up there." he points to the lake, passed the buoys that mark the end of the abbey's property, "...I'm your neighbor."

"Our neighbor..." Copia whispers, thoughtful, "Then you've seen quite a lot, haven't you?"

"Enough. I have seen enough." he says, "Enough to know it would be stupid for me to even dream of trying to extort more from you than a cup of sugar."

"But here you are."

He nods.

"As I said... I am your neighbor." Jarno offers his hand, "Consider this an olive branch; A chance to keep you and yours safe, and protect mine as well. The beast that killed Lillian is likely still among your flock... I wish to cull it before more die unnecessarily."

Copia scoffs, smiling slightly, "So you have no fears of the evil cult living behind your house? No concerns over babes stolen in the night for ritualistic sacrifice?"

"You've not bothered me in all the years I have lived here, and, yes, I considered the possibility that you might be dangerous, but I also know it does you no good to kill me here, on your doorstep, especially when the police are watching you all so closely now."

"Fair enough..." Copia hums, "And if we do hunt down this beast, what then? What do you hope to gain from its death?"

"...The other nine claws."

[lena-in-a-red-dress]

Somewhere on here I have AU/idea that instead of dying, Lillian made one last attempt to connect with Lena by confirming how good and how powerful she is-- prompting Lena to reflexively heal Lillian's wounds with her magic.

Today I want to follow this up with another idea... what happens after Lillian survives?

How long would it take for Lillian to decide she can't live with the fact her son is in the Phantom Zone, and begins making plans to find a way to bring him home? And how long before Lena finds her mother plotting to do so?

The confrontation would be bitter, and biting. Lena would be angry, yet full of warning. The risk of giving the phantoms a second chance to prey on earth's population is too great. And what happens if Lillian succeeds without unleashing all hell?

"What, Lex cooks up some other scheme to achieve complete global power? You have to know by now that any world Lex controls would be doomed from the start."

Lillian shakes her head. "That doesn't mean I can allow him to rot in that, that place! It will turn him mad!"

"He's already mad--!"

Lillian's palm cracks across Lena's cheek in a shocking display of outrage. Lena staggers, the blow is so unexpected, but she draws herself up in the next moment, glaring her mother down. Lillian, for her part, is as shocked at her actions as Lena. She's never struck either of her children before today.

"Tell me," Lena levels at her, tone carefully even. "When Lex told you of the previous reality, did he tell you what actually happened there?"

Lillian swallows thickly. He hadn't.

"He let you rot in prison. And when he deemed you a threat, or else simply of no use to him, he made plans to eliminate you, right there in your cell.

"Lex never cared for you, Mother-- nor the adoration you threw at him."

Lena looks Lillian dead in the eye, and in her gaze Lillian finds nothing but honesty. Lena has never been one for subterfuge-- obfuscation, perhaps, but never outright lies. It was never in her nature.

"If you had spent just a fraction of that affection on the child who actually wanted it, well..."

When Lena smirks, the gesture is hollow. Mirthless.

"I guess we wouldn't be where we are right now, would we?"

Lena's gaze has turned melancholy with what-if, and Lillian can't help the spasm of guilt that briefly grips her chest and squeezes. In the next moment, though, her daughter's features harden.

"If you bring Lex back to this plane-- I'll put another bullet in him. And this time, I'll make sure it's in the head."

Before confusion can wash over Lillian, she sees the promise in Lena's eyes, the solemn set of her jaw. She doesn't know anything that happened between her children in the last reality, but looking at Lena now she has no reason the doubt the implications of her daughter's words.

Without another word, Lena turns on her heel and stalks out, her head high and shoulders square. For a moment, Lillian can't help the tiny bit of pride that sparks in her chest-- not for the first time, she sees a little bit of herself in Lena.

Lena's warning tumbles about in Lillian's mind as she turns back to her chaotic workstation, covered with notes and schematics she would never have to ability to manifest on her own. It's clear that Lena would not lend her aid.

Lillian draws to a standstill, staring down the barrel of the decision before her.

Does she continue to claw for the son she's lost, or forge a future with the daughter she'd long cast aside?

Despite the quandary in her thoughts, her heart tugs in the direction of Lena's exit.

Perhaps it's time to give her love to someone capable of returning it.

Finally.

[squidsandlanterns]

A Rotten Wick in a Melting Candle 🕯️

Tw: Mentions of Burning, Character Death.

Mary didn't know how long she was awake for. How long she had been praying for. The candle had been burning for a long time, the light it produced dimming away as the wick became less and less, just as her soul was. She looked out of her bedroom window into the woods below, hoping for a sign. That they'd come back. But she knew. Oh she knew. After all, she killed them.

She obeyed him. She listened to his words, his teachings. Every Sunday, like clockwork she'd be up for church, taking her three children and left the house without her husband.

Her Husband.

Her now dead husband. Her husband who after leaving a rather harsh taped message on a recorder hung himself. Leaving just her and Benjamin.

Her only child that was alive. Her boy.

Last she checked he was in his room sleeping, yet he didn't snore this time. She noticed that he didn't even lay his cross on his table, instead huddled it to his chest, muttering away what the Lord only knows.

A harsh wind suddenly invaded her room and blew out her candle, instantly shrouding the room in darkness. She helped as she heard a crash next to her, whirling around in fear, her eyes darting around the room as she tried to she what fell.

She heard her door open.

Her eyes snapped to the direction of the door, her breathing becoming laboured and coming out in sharp gasps as her body trembled, the sense of absolute dread came upon her. She knew it. She knew they'd come for her. They'd kill her just the way she killed them. They'd strangle her as she tried to claw from their grasp as her pleas fell on deaf—

The door suddenly stopped, it's creaking coming to a halt. No one was behind the door.

Instead, her lantern rolled into her room. A voice whispers to her.

"Lillian?"

There was no answer.

A loud crash could be heard. The windows flew open as a strong wind blew in, adding more chills to her shivering from.

"Ladybug, Ladybug fly way home,"

"Your house is on fire and your children are GONE!"

Then she smelt it.

She saw the smoke. The orange flames. Rising high in a circular form, lashing out at her, scorching her.

She saw there was NO WAY OUT.

She screamed, she cried, she even searched for her last child, her last shard of hope.

But no, he was gone, with his cross and his Bible. His window open, his candle blown out.

They took him.

She was left to burn, left to die. The fire burned her melted her skin, peeling and curling it like candle wax. Her skin tore from her bones, dripping to the floor and drying fast. It was agonizing, so painful. She ran around the house, screaming until she couldn't anymore, she tried to claw at the floor but how could she when her fingers were no more? When all it did was stick to her skin and dry?

And with a final scream, Mary accepted it. Mary accepted her death, as she kneeled, in one last and final prayer of repentance.

For the wages of sin is death, is it not?

______________________________________________________________

Uhhh....have this funny and horribly written little draft I had.....!

I was gonna add more.....but I don't think it'll be good...

But have a piece of an AU I've been trying to cook up outta my head....whew-

[darkershining]

Just watched episode 33 of Wonderful Pretty Cure, in which we get to know Iroha's father a little better.

The episode begins with Iroha's father tending to Witt (the dog from episode 22), before getting ready to move on to Yuki, since Mayu wants to make sure she trimmed her claws correctly. Komugi is out playing in the dog run with other dogs brought to the clinic, including Moca, a new client.

After checking Yuki's claws, and giving a finishing touch with a nail file, Tsuyoshi gets ready to go give Moca a fur trimming, but Moca isn't interested. He decides to join Komugi in playing with Moca in order to get the dog to warm up to him so it'll let him groom their fur.

Satoru stops by, having come to get Daifuku's claws checked. While the group waits in Iroha's room, they ask her about how her dad got into the animal grooming business, noting it's kind of rare to find men in said profession. Iroha's mother stops by bringing snacks for the group, so they ask her about it since Iroha doesn't know.

Yoko explains that she first met him in the park, where he was working to learn about animals so he could get into the animal grooming business, but was having some trouble getting the dogs to trust him. Yoko gave him some tips to speak in a higher voice since a lower voice might come across as aggressive and make the dogs nervous, which is how he developed the voice he uses when addressing the dog clients at the clinic. Since Yoko was also looking to open an animal clinic, she invited him to work with her.

Somewhere in the city, Torame has picked up a Garugaru egg from somewhere, and is observing people walking their dogs, wondering why the dogs put up with having to walk on a leash. He powers up the Garugaru egg, unleashing a pig Gaogaon. Sensing it from a distance, the Cures head out to deal with the situation.

Satoru isn't entirely sure if the Gaogaon is a pig or a boar, but figures that either way, they might be able to calm it down by leading it to a patch of mud near the riverbank, since pigs love playing in mud. The Cures change up their strategy of chasing the pig, instead getting ahead of it, and trying to make a page from Tsuyoshi and speak to the Gaogaon in a cheery voice to lure it to the patch of mud.

The plan works, and upon reaching the patch of mud, the Gaogaon eagerly jumps in to play in it. With the Gaogaon distracted, the Cures are able to purify it, revealing it to be a pig from Niko Garden. Torame exits the scene, while Cure Lillian sends the pig back to Niko Garden.

Returning to the clinic, Tsuyoshi has successfully befriended and given Moca their first trim, with Moca's owner complimenting him on his work. As Tsuyoshi heads inside to take a break after saying good-bye to Moca and their owner, the Cures admire how well Tsuyoshi does his work and Komugi and Yuki both request that their owner brush them later. Niko observes from inside, commenting on everyone's smiles.

Another good episode! Nice to get to know Iroha's parents a little better, including how they first met. Not much else to say about this particular episode.

I'll be looking forward to the next episode!

[disneyanddisneyships]

@gyubby99 fine. I give.

Alastor x OC

Warnings: pining, angsty, Mal being utterly in love with her best friend.

Satisfied....?

The wedding had been beautiful.

The sunset theme of it, red orange and yellow, Stood out to the personalities of both Alastor and aponi.

Aponi ate a bite of her food as angel dust and husker stood in the front of the room.

"Ya know, when I first met alastor, I thought he looked like a pimp. Turns out he was a simp," Angel stated.

All right, all right, that's what I'm talking about! Now, everyone give it up For the maid of honor, Angelica Schuyler!

Everyone laughed at Angel dust's cringey joke, even alastor.

Even though it wasn't very good, the humor was there, and angel said it in a way that made everyone laugh.

"Alright, alright! Now, everyone, put your hands, claws, hooves, whateva ya got, together for the maid of Honor! Mal!" Angel announced as he and husk walked away, passing the microphone to mal who took their place on the stage as demons clapped.

A toast to the groom! (To the groom, to the groom, to the groom) To the bride (to the bride!) (To the bride, to the bride) From your sister (Angelica, Angelica, Angelica) Who is always by your side (By your side, by your side) To your union (to the union, to the revolution!) And the hope that you provide (You provide, you provide) May you always (always) Be satisfied (rewind)

"Alright everyone, raise your glass in a toast to the groom!" Mal stated, giving a hidden pained smile at alastor. "To the bride!" She exclaimed as she smiled lovingly at Aponi. "From your best friend, who is always by your side!" She smiled. "To your union, and the hope you provide! And may you always be satisfied!" She stated again before looking into her glass, filled with champagne, as the applause from the room faded out in her mind.

I remember that night, I just might (rewind) I remember that night, I just might (rewind) I remember that night I remember that-

Her smile fell as she seemed to be in a different room, memories playing in front of her as whisps of air and color, or as ghostlike figures before the area zoomed in as if she was watching the star trek movies.

I remember that night, I just might Regret that night for the rest of my days I remember those soldier boys Tripping over themselves to win our praise I remember that dreamlike candlelight Like a dream that you can't quite place But Alexander, I'll never forget the first time I saw your face I have never been the same Intelligent eyes in a hunger-pang frame And when you said "Hi, " I forgot my dang name Set my heart aflame, ev'ry part aflame This is not a game

Her vision blurred until she was standing in the hotel again, the party going on.

She looked and stepped to the side as the dreamlike memory played out and gentledemons attempted to flirt with the firefly demon.

Then she turned to aponi, unable to forget the face she had when Mal saw her look at Alastor.....

She had never been the same....

The yellow eyes of her best friend practically pierced through the crowd.

Mal felt her heart getting bigger, and breaking all at the same time.

You strike me as a woman who has never been satisfied I'm sure I don't know what you mean You forget yourself. You're like me, I'm never satisfied Is that right? I have never been satisfied My name is Angelica Schuyler Alexander Hamilton. Where's your family from? Unimportant, there's a million things I haven't done Just you wait, just you wait So so so

the memory flashed back again to when they were little kids.... when they first met....

"Hello! You look sad!" A smaller lilly stated as she sat next to an even smaller mal.

"You dunno what you're talking about," Mal muttered as she sat with her knees to her chest.

"You're like me! I get sad a lot too!" Lilly exclaimed, innocently.

"..... I'm Mallory," the little Mal stated, reaching out her hand to the girl she noticed just now how pretty she was.

"I'm Lillian!"

The flash back again.... to the party....

"Ah, Mal, lovely to meet you!" Alastor stated, shaking her hand enthusiastically.

"Where exactly are you from?" Mal asked, suspiciously, knowing all the times she had caught the radio demon staring at Lilly.

"I fail to see the importance of that!" Alastor replied before catching the eye of Lilly who was by the stairs.

"I'm not satisfied with that answer," Mal replied.

"Then I'm afraid you'll never be satisfied, my dear!" Alastor exclaimed. "Now, pardon me. I must go find Charlie," he stated before walking away.

Mal followed him with her eyes before turning back to Lilly.

So this is what it feels like to match wits With someone at your level! what the hell is the catch? It's the feeling of freedom, of seeing the light It's Ben Franklin with a key and a kite You see it right? The conversation lasted two minutes, maybe three minutes Everything we said in total agreement It's a dream and it's a bit of a dance A bit of a posture, it's a bit of a stance. He's a bit of a flirt, but I'mma give it a chance I asked about his fam'ly, did you see his answer? His hands started fidgeting, he looked askance He's penniless, he's flying by the seat of his pants

In that moment, Mal knew.... she knew that she would never be able to be with Lilly.....

So... this was the catch of falling in love with your best friend....

The thing that sucked was how free Mal felt with lilly... how comfortable she was...

The conversation with alastor maybe lasted 2 or 3 minutes, and her heart was already breaking.

She didn't stand a chance against him.

He's such a flirt.... Mal noticed how he spoke to a bunny demon.... he was nothing but a lowlife who could never be satisfied.... I mean...m did you see the way he acted when Mal asked about his family? He's hiding something.

Handsome, boy does he know it Peach fuzz and he can't even grow it I wanna take him far away from this place Then I turn and see my sister's face and she is- Helpless And I know she is Helpless And her eyes are just Helpless And I realize three fundamental truths at the exact same time!

Mal turned her attention to Lilly....

Beautiful... but God, she didn't know it....

Mal wished she could take her far away from this place but when aponi turned and saw her face Mal could tell she was-

"Could you talk to him for me?" Aponi asked.

Helpless......

And her eyes were just....

"I just.. I dunno," aponi stated again, looking at alastor with the most lovestruck eyes.

Helpless.......

That's when Mal realized multiple truths at the exact same time.....

Where are you taking me? I'm about to change your life Then by all means, lead the way (Number one!)

"Where, may I ask, are you taking me?" Alastor asked as he walked next to Mal toward Aponi.

"Im.. about to change your death," Mal replied solemnly..

"Ah, then by all means lead the way!" Alastor exclaimed happily.

I'm a girl in a world in which My only job is to marry rich My father has no sons so I'm the one who has to social climb for one So I'm the oldest and the wittiest and the gossip in New York City is insidious. And Alexander is penniless Ha, that doesn't mean I want him any less

The memory stopped, becoming blurry as Mal stood there, looking at Lilly....

She walked up to her frozen figure.

"I'm an overlord in hell whwho'only job is to kill people.... my father had no sons,, so I'm the one who had to social climb for one..... the gossip in hell is insidious... and youre... just Lilly, but.... that doesn't mean I need you any less...." Mal muttered to the frozen image of Lilly.

Elizabeth Schuyler, it's a pleasure to meet you Schuyler? My sister

"Ah, Aponi! What a pleasure it is to see you again!" Alastor exclaimed with a genuine smile, taking Lilly's hands in his.

"Yep... my best friend," Nal muttered, her smile faltering a bit.

He's after me because I'm a Schuyler sister That elevates his status I'd have to be naive to set that aside, Maybe that is why I introduce him to Eliza Now that's his bride Nice going Angelica, he was right, you will never be satisfied

Mal could see through everything.... he's after her cause shes powerful, and could elevate his status...

Mal would have to be naive to set that aside.... but she still talked to him for her... because he seemed to make Lilly happy...

Now she's his bride...

Nice going mal... he's right. You'll never be satisfied.... she thought to herself.

Thank you for all your service If it takes fighting a war for us to meet, it will have been worth it I'll leave you to it

"Thanks for helping Charlie with all the decorations!" Lilly smiled.

"It was practically a war, attempting to help them. But if it takes fighting in a war to see you again, it was worth it," Alastor stated, kissing Aponi's wrist.

Mal held back a scoff... he was smooth....

"Ill.. leave you to it!" She stated, a pained smile on her face before walking away.

I know my sister like I know my own mind You will never find anyone as trusting or as kind If I tell her that I love him she'd be silently resigned He'd be mine She would say "I'm fine", she'd be lying. But when I fantasize at night, it's Alexander's eyes As I romanticize what might have been if I hadn't sized Him up so quickly At least my dear Eliza's his wife At least I keep his eyes in my life

The memory stopped again and Mal stomped up to Alastor, screaming in his face.

"I know Lilly like I know my own mind! You'll never find anyone as trusting or as kind! If I told her that I loved her, she'd treat me different.. she would say she's fine ,but she'd be lying!" Mal yelled.

She stood there for a minute in silence before speaking up again to the frozen face of alastor.

"When I fantasize at night, it's her eyes as I romanticize what mightve been if I hadn't sized you up that quickly......" Mal stated.

At least he'd take care of her.. right?

At least Mal still has Lilly's eyes in her life.... right?

Once again, the room turned blurry and Mal was brought back to reality, Paoli standing in front of her concerned.

"You okay, Mal?" Lilly asked.

Mal put on a fake smile.

To the groom! (To the groom, to the groom, to the groom) To the bride! (To the bride, to the bride, to the bride) From your sister (Angelica, Angelica) Who is always by your side (By your side, by your side) To your union! (To the union, to the revolution) And the hope that you provide (You provide, you provide) May you always (always) Be satisfied (satisfied, satisfied, satisfied) And I know (be satisfied, be satisfied, be satisfied) She'll be happy as his bride (satisfied, satisfied, satisfied) And I know (be satisfied, satisfied, satisfied, satisfied) He will never be satisfied I will never be satisfied

"I'm alright," she stated before turning back to the crowd. "Uh.. where was I? Oh right... to the groom!" Mal exclaimed, holding up her glass again as Lilly went to sit down. "To the bride!" She exclaimed.

Everyone else hesitantly held up their glasses.

"From your best friend who is always by your side! To your union, and the hope that you provide! May you always be satisfied!" Mal smiled before downing her entire glass.

The room applauded.

As Mal walked off the stage she glanced at Alastor and aponi.

She knew.... Lilly would be happy as his bride... and she also knew.... He would never be satisfied... Mal could never be satisfied....

[blue-the-octoling]

I completely understand! It's not selfish in any way, as you did decide to redisign them first!

Very good, lovely angst! Also, I have an idea for how Lillian died! Instead of falling down the well, how about she dies from hypothermia?

this may just be my shifty knowledge of how the weaver children died, but do we get any explanation on why they were killed in the way they were? I mean, I know Tim and Toms death was because they were seen as "children of the devil", but why were Benny, Lillian, and Caleb killed?

Tim says softly sounding more nervous than exhausted like before. The day goes on as normal their mother makes dinner and their father comes back from town but still no sign of Tom. “He’s… ok he probably is just out in the forest… he’ll come back for dinner…” Tim says to himself the sun had set and the homestead was now shrouded in darkness his siblings already inside eating and he reluctantly joins them. But an hour passes, then two, Tim goes out and looks for him against Benny’s warnings Tom comes before himself. He looked all over the homestead, staying outside for hours in search of Tom. Looking high and low checking each spot once… twice… three times over. When he returned home his sibling long since went to bed he finds his mother in their room…. She’s… SHES BURNING TOMS STUFF… “Mama! What.. what are you doing!? What happened to Tom? Where is he?” Tim yells at his mother his mother snapping back “what has to be done! If I want the lord to forgive my sins I must remove all traces of them. Cleanse them in fire. You devils will never see the light of day again and if I have to die to be forgiven then so be it.” With that she lights the pile of Tim and Tom’s clothing, bedding and personal belongings on fire with the candle she used to light the way to her terrible mission. Tim drops to his knees finally realizing what happened to his brother, tears run down his face as he comes to terms with the fact that his bother is dead. Though it doesn’t last long as his sadness melts into pure anger as he stands to his feet, his knife now tightly clutched in his hand as he lunges at his mother, his knife plunging into her side as she’s knocked into the pile of spreading flames. A loud shriek comes from her as she feels his knife be pulled from her flesh before harshly plunged in again, her hair and dress starting to catch ablaze, her screams continuing on and on as he stabs her not even realizing he himself is also catching ablaze. Tom was all he had… the only person who cared… not his mother nor his other siblings… “YOU WITCH. YOU DARE CALL US DEVILS WHEN YOU DO THIS  TO YOUR OWN CHILDREN…!” He growls in pure distain and hatred, the flames spreading from his room to the rest of the house. His mother dead from blood loss he finally stops realizing his situation, the deep burn of his skin, he can barely breathe from the smoke. As the fire spreads more finally overtaking both him and the house completely. He screams with what little strength he has left clawing at his face feeling a hot liquid run out of his eye sockets. He can’t see… his lungs feel heavy and smothered and his skin feels like liquid. He can’t feel… he can’t… he passes out. Outside Benny does a head count, one, two… Tim. Tom. They aren’t there. He holds out hope that they’re just in the woods together. For now making sure that Lillian and Caleb are ok. He couldn’t wake up their father, nor find their mother for now he only care about his siblings. Lillian stuck to his side in fear and Caleb doing the same. For now the only thing Benny can do is calm his siblings down and hold out hope that the other two are ok. 

THATS FUCKING GENUISE SHE DIED BECAUSE OF HYPOTHERMIA THE FALL DIDNT KILL HERE THE COLD DID!! Also no we don’t know anything about how they died just the cause of death.

[skekilla]

https://www.deviantart.com/skekilla/art/Runaway-Train-Act-III-Scene-9-950745755

Let’s get this one down right.

It’d been some time since they had made that pact. They’d left the day after, when BB had finished up Johnny’s leg. A week or so of walking had passed since then, and in that time, they’d drawn closer and closer to the locomotive. Lillian was at the helm the whole way, walking in a dead silence particularly unsettling because it was her who was being so quiet. They all had been quiet, actually. The whole trek had a heavy air about it, but that heaviness pressed a connection between the passengers into being. It sealed their vow to get to the front no matter what. There was no going back now.

It would have been pretty hard to try retreat anyway; the closer they got to the locomotive, the more filled with demons, spirits, things the cars were. To turn tail, you’d have to run through all those yourself, and that was cars on cars worth of running, fending those creatures off all the while. “Be ready for a fight” was right. They’d managed to struggle through so far, though.

They did have to come to a brief stop, however, at the end of this particular car they found themselves in. As Lillian began to slide the door to the side, it quickly sprang out of her hand. It was like an overstuffed suitcase bursting open. Shadowy bodies popped through the crack, pushing it instantly wider. Limbs and claws scraped around each other and a thousand bright eyes flashed at them all. Ed ran forward and slammed the door shut again, holding it closed tight. “Well, that might be a problem,” he said.

Lillian stood there, her chin lowering. “Yes, it might be,” she murmured. “Perhaps you all should think of a plan.” The way she spoke was slow, restrained, as if she was keeping herself from saying something. Johnny didn’t like it at all.

Curtis was up to bat, though; “Alright, see here,” he began. “How many cars do you figure are left, Lillian?”

“Three. All packed like this one. The Conductor doesn’t like to make things easy.”

The sailor drew in a breath. Even his spirit was wavering a little at the challenge. “Fine,” he said, making his voice sound strong anyway. “Me and Ed will lead the charge, and—” A polite but noticeable cough made an interruption. Curtis turned and snapped, “What?”

Out from the group of passengers, Drake stepped forward. “Pardon my intrusion and contradiction,” they said, “but you and Ed should not lead. BB should, with Louise and myself following. We will cleave a thin path that the rest can follow through. You and Ed would best be posted at the sides, with Orla and Nick as well, defending the others as they follow within.”

Curtis’ lip twisted. “Are you crazy?” he exclaimed.

“Well, I don’t know about them, but I’m pretty crazy,” BB cut in, cracking her knuckles. “I can do it.”

“With all due respect, force alone will not propel us through this entire mob,” Eden said, their chilly eyes trained on Curtis. “We must act together, and we must act according to our best abilities. This is how. I assure you, I wish to help to the utmost, and that is why I am finished with silence. So please, trust my strategic sensibilities; they are what I have survived on.”

Curtis stood there for a moment, his whole character dark with weariness and what Johnny knew was a terribly deep fear. Trust. It’s trust. Suddenly, though, their eyes met; Curtis’ gaze flicked to Johnny’s face, as if seeking shelter. Johnny’s breath caught in his throat, but only for a moment. He knew what he needed to do. Ever so slightly, he gave him an encouraging nod. His eyes said to him, louder than any words, “let it all go; trust in them. It’s alright.” As the sailor searched his face his fears softened slowly, like melting ice. His eyes shut for just a moment, a breath escaping his nose.

Finally, he looked back at Drake. “Fine,” he said at last. “We’re all ears.”

The plan made was simple, and it did work, give or take a few issues.

As Drake had said, BB led the charge into the first car, bashing though demons left and right as she went. Behind her ran the two slashers, and boy were they slashing. They cut the way through wide enough for the others to push on, as planned. Those others were Johnny, Sally, Lillian, and the kids, protected on all sides by the big guns—Orla, Curtis, Ed, and Nick. They made quick work of any would-be attackers trying to close in on the line. It all went off without a hitch, except for one thing: managing to get the door open and keep it that way until everyone else was through. The demons were all pressed around the door; they could close in at any minute. Seeing this, Drake stood steadfastly by the exit, even as everyone else ran past.

“Drake, do come quickly!” Louise had called to them. “You’ll be swept away!” “Pay me no mind,” they said. “Go! If I must die, I will on my own terms.”

There was really no time to argue. Louise obliged. They pressed their hand in theirs for just a moment. “Then I bid you good luck!” they said. “Goodbye, my friend, and on behalf of us all, thank you.” A nod was all there was time for before they had to press on, leaving the housekeeper behind to their deathly work.

They made do in that next car; Louise just worked double-time to kill all of the things that closed in on them, emboldened by Drake’s sacrifice. They were keeping it together, but the lack of protection did have its downsides. Just at the end of the car, things went wrong. Out of nowhere, a reaper, bearing the mask of a rat, came flying at BB. The operation’s spearhead was flung aside, but hell if she was giving up then; she was going to fight tooth, nail, bone, all of it. Even still, she was terribly unmatched.

Everyone else was running through the door while it was open, but Lillian hung back. “BB, stop!” the rabbit girl yelled. “You’re not going to win! Stop fighting it!”

“Never!” BB said. “I’ll fight until I die!”

Lillian groaned in dismay and her ears fell. “You’re such an idiot!” she replied.

“This is what I live for,” said the zombie, “and I’m gonna live it to the fullest!”

“Be careful at least.”

“I don’t know the meaning of careful, baby,” she said. “See you on the other side, Lil! Cowabunga!” With that and a sigh, Lillian had to surrender BB to the reaper and turn away to help the rest of them.

Luckily, there was a backup plan: Anne would halt the creatures with her soul magic, parting a path through them all. The problem was that that took a lot out of the little girl; though her eyes flashed that deadly reddish colour, she began to lag a little behind the group. That little bit was just enough, though. Out from the masses, having escaped the grasp of her soul magic, flew another reaper, bearing the mask of a dog. Johnny only caught it out of the corner of his eye, but- oh God, what happened was the most terrible thing he had ever seen. Its claws went right through her.

“Anne!!” Salem screamed. They broke from the rest of the group and caught her as she fell.

The poor girl shuddered in their arms. “At home,” she said between tears, “a-at home, they always said this would be good… but now I don’t want to die, Salem. I don’t want to.”

“It’s going to be okay, Anne! I promise…” Salem was crying too.

“Are you going to leave me?”

“No, I’ll never leave you. W-we’re going together!” With all their strength, they lifted Anne’s little body. They took a step, then another, but before they could take a third, something pulled on their leg and knocked them down. Demons crowded around them, closing in and around the two children. It was a nightmare, all encompassing and dark and horrible. Above the clamour, though, rose a single cry from Salem: “EEEDDD!!”

Though Ed was in the midst of fighting demon after demon, he stopped right in his tracks as he heard them. It was barely an instant before he ran off into the fray, making a beeline for those kids. The last Johnny ever saw of his face was the overwhelming flame of care and love in his eyes as he bolted away.

Now they only had Louise pushing, Curtis, Orla, and Nick defending, and Sally, Lillian, and Johnny within. Of course, though, it wasn’t quite staying in that order. Everything was all falling apart; they were barely moving forward and demons were ripping in at all sides. Johnny had to shoot a few shots here and there—enough to use up what bullets he had, anyway—joining in with the now nonstop fire of Nick’s tommy gun. At one point, a claw grabbed at Sally, yanking her to the edge. However, it was swiftly kicked away by Orla. Their eyes met for just a moment, but nothing could be said then; even a moment’s pause could mean death.

Such was proven by Nick soon after. As he went to reload his gun, something grabbed his arm, and then his leg. He shouted and shook, but it wouldn’t let go. Then, just as he began to be pulled into the dark crowd of demons, a blur of metal sliced clean through the limbs that held him: Louise had slashed through at the last moment. Their move wasn’t without consequences though; the demons retaliated, stabbing them with a hundred little claws.

Nick, for the only time that Johnny had seen since Drake had stopped him from shooting, didn’t look like he had everything under control. He stuck behind with Louise. “Come on, get up!” he said. “Don’t die on me. We gotta go.”

Louise breathed something like a laugh. “I can’t,” they replied. “I shouldn’t. It’s about time for me to go this way, isn’t it?”

Their humour rubbed off a bit on Nick. “I owe you double at least, now,” he joked, though weakly.

“Oh Niccolo,” she said, “you owe me nothing. It was simply the right thing to do, especially for a friend.” Her voice trailed away, and even though Johnny wasn’t looking, he knew she was gone.

Nick straightened up, his tommy gun at his side for just a moment. Then, with a tilt of his head, he raised it and shucked the used up magazine out and slid another in. Over his shoulder, his eyes met Johnny’s, where they were all still fighting onward. “Well, I guess it is the right thing to do,” he said. “I’m done running for my whole life anyway. Keep going, pal! I’ll fill ‘em with daylight!” The absolute explosion of machine gun fire that followed was enough to occupy the swarm and let the rest of them break through to the last door.

[latenightcinephile]

Film #907: ‘The Night of the Hunter’, dir. Charles Laughton, 1955.

Critically panned upon its release in 1955, it took several decades for The Night of the Hunter to be hailed as a classic, but it now enjoys a reputation as an incisive exploration of good and evil in America. Most of this reputation is due to Robert Mitchum's performance as the serial murderer Harry 'Preacher' Powell, who comes to a small town in the South looking for a stash of stolen money. On paper, this sounds like a pretty traditional thriller from the 1950s, but on the screen it's a bizarre pastiche of different inspirations. Some parts of it work well, others seem poised to collapse if the camera lingers any longer on them than strictly necessary. Given this, it's not hard to see why audiences and critics at the time rejected it. With the benefit of hindsight, though, it's clear that Charles Laughton (most famous as an actor; he never directed another film) had an original perspective that he wanted to bring to the screen, even if it doesn't come to fruition as much as it could have.

The Night of the Hunter starts by telling a simple story made up of some very weird parts. Preacher Powell is jailed for a month for stealing a car, and while in prison meets a man awaiting execution for stealing ten thousand dollars and murdering two men. He tries unsuccessfully to learn the whereabouts of the money, and after his release from prison heads to the small town where the man's family lives. In short order he marries his former cellmate's widow Willa (Shelley Winters) and discovers that her two young children are the ones who were entrusted with the money. The youngest, Pearl (Sally Jane Bruce) instantly trusts her new stepfather, but John (Billy Chapin), who swore to his father that the money's location would never be revealed, is instantly suspicious, and with good reason. Powell has been murdering widows for their money for a while now, and his obsessive desire for the spoils of the robbery leads him to increasingly volatile outbursts of rage. After Willa is killed, the children escape downriver, eventually taking refuge with Rachel Cooper (Lillian Gish), a spinster who has been protecting orphans as part of her own spiritual calling. A confrontation between Powell and Cooper ends with Powell arrested and hauled away to his execution, and the children experience a happy Christmas as part of Cooper's family.

What makes this film different from the usual genre fare is that it's less assembled than carefully balanced into a tower. Powell doesn't have any redeeming characteristics, which makes him a poor figure to be aligned with for the opening of the film. When John becomes the central figure, our perspective shifts to a slightly more comfortable vantage point, but there are still large chunks of the film that require knowledge that the viewer possesses but John doesn't, so we never really inhabit the boy's view. The jarring juxtaposition of the serial murderer and the bucolic Huckleberry-Finn-esque town is part of what makes the film compelling, but it's a difficult balancing act and one that the film can't fully commit to. Either Powell has to operate on the logic of the Mark Twain world, or the children have to leave their carefree world behind and enter the maelstrom of adulthood. For a while, it's the latter that happens. Then, with the introduction of Rachel, it's like the film is trying desperately to claw its way back to the status quo. Once Powell is caught, the film doesn't seem to know what to do next. There's an angry mob out for Powell's blood, led by Willa's former employers, but this doesn't seem to be included for any purpose, as Powell is just whisked to his execution, so neither he nor the mob wins. The Christmas scene is there, evidently, to give some happy closure, but that closure was implied anyway so we don't gain anything by having it hammered home. The film spends its last ten minutes, having resolved its main plot, just milling around like it's afraid of what it's doing.

If this was the case, it's not just the film that was alarmed. The film had to go through several adjustment periods to meet the Production Code, and Protestant leaders objected to the idea that Powell might actually be a genuinely religious man. The final film is ambivalent about this: while Powell preaches at revival meetings and is shown in frequent conversations through prayer, he claims to be preaching "the religion the Almighty and me worked out betwixt us" rather than a formal doctrine of Christianity. In other words, he might just be a charlatan, but the film isn't prepared to commit to that interpretation either. More troublingly, in order for Preacher Powell to be the maximum possible threat, he needs to exert an almost supernatural power over women in the film. Willa and, later, one of Rachel's orphans Ruby, are infatuated with Powell despite the clear risks he poses, but before long those misgivings are erased with no real explanations for their change of heart. This makes a certain amount of practical sense - it makes John seem like the only one who sees Powell for the threat he is - but it doesn't make for a plausible world in which this story takes place. Peer pressure from the town can only go so far in Willa's case.

Audiences and critics weren't sure what to make of the assortment of seemingly ill-connected ideas, either. The Night of the Hunter didn't seem to want to be a traditional genre picture, and its more artistic moments spelled box office poison as marketing the film to a particular audience proved impossible. By the same token, it wasn't artistic enough to be an auteur picture (not that the term was in use or widely understood, although coincidentally 1955 was the year the theory was first espoused by Truffaut). The occasional flights of fancy and artistic touches were seen as marks of a poorly-disciplined director, unwilling or unable to make a film that agreed with traditional film principles. Reviews of the time frequently described the film as "weird", "offbeat", and "foggy". While some reviews conceded that the inconsistency in style and tone made the film intriguing, most outlets simply dismissed it.

This is a real shame, because it's those offbeat, German Expressionist-inspired effects that give the best sense of what The Night of the Hunter could have been with a little more courage. There are a few of these moments throughout the film, whether it's the casting of threatening and impossible shadows on the walls of the children's bedroom at night, or a framing of the marital bedroom that makes it clear that Willa is trapped in her relationship with Powell. (Curiously, this shape is replicated later on in the shadow of a birdcage that John sees while they are fleeing downriver. I was prepared to take notes on this similarity but the film doesn't explore it further.) Two moments in particular stand out: one is Birdie (James Steptoe) recalling to himself the discovery of Willa's body, submerged in the river, "with her hair waving soft and lazy like meadow grass under flood water, and that slit in her throat, like she had an extra mouth." The escape down the river is also transcendent, with the harried children fleeing to the boat, Powell left screaming in rage, standing up to his waist in the river. What follows is an eerie musical montage: an impossibly sweet singing voice coming from Pearl while spiderwebs and wildlife occupy large portions of the frame. It reminded me of something from Fantasia.

Seeing this film in the cinema was instructive in this respect: both the above moments were met with murmurs of approval from the audience. But the audience response also demonstrated how haphazard the film is otherwise. Robert Mitchum mostly makes for a pleasingly unhinged villain, but his screams of rage and pain are hammy, and his response to getting a face full of birdshot was nothing short of a Looney Tunes performance. You could argue that the uneven tone makes the more stellar moments stand out further, but if you're deifying the film as a classic surely there ought to be more to it.

Finally, we have to talk about Lillian Gish, who was supposedly brought out of semi-retirement for this film. She's an excellent addition to the cast (this is certainly less problematic than anything D. W. Griffith got her involved with), and the role of Rachel Cooper is a complicated one, because by the time we've reached the character's introduction it's no longer a narrative grounded in realism. Instead, the battle between good and evil that forms the basis of Powell's sermons has become the metaphor for the film. Both Powell and Cooper are driven by a purpose, but Powell's use of Christianity is self-serving and Cooper's is selfless. It's tempting to suspect that this metaphor might have been inflated in the final film due to the concerns that Powell would give Christianity a bad reputation. Regardless, Gish has perhaps the deepest performance of anyone in the film, providing a steady contrast to Powell's hypocrisy without dropping to any of Mitchum's histrionics. I just wish they'd given her more of an arc.

Like the film itself, then, the justifications for including The Night of the Hunter on the list are a carefully-balanced pile of disparate elements: a director who never made another film; a star pulled from the fog of history; some moments of grandeur; a gripping if inconsistent central villain. Laughton apparently watched a lot of Gish's silent films before he started production, aiming to bring some of the magic of the silent films into the talking pictures era. He succeeded at times, and this film is an illuminating watch even if it's not always clear whether what we're watching is splendid or slapdash. Maybe Laughton would have made another film if this one had been better-received. Maybe, though, The Night of the Hunter was the only experience he needed to know that making an entire film is really, really hard work.

[sekhisadventures]

The Battle for Beledar

The City of Threads, Several Hours Ago

Garnal walked into the quarters of the outlanders who had sided with Xal’atath’s Order of Night, the death knight having delivered word of their discovery in the Maddening Deeps to the Harbinger personally.

Sekhi, a seemingly inconsequential vulpera woman, had the power to channel Azeroth’s voice in such a way as to counter the power of the black blood itself. This gave Xal’atath pause. She did not feel that a single adventurer could be much of a threat to her plans, even if Azeroth was able to use them as her mouthpiece, but she did not want the risk so close to her plans coming to fruition for Beledar.

“We have our orders.” he nodded to Xiaren, the pandaren woman nodding as she stood up from the table where she had just finished eating her rations for the day.

“… and?” she asked as, behind her, the sha manifested and leered at Garnal over her shoulder.

“Mistress Xal’atath decrees that the vulpera is not to be allowed to live. We find her, we silence her. Permanently.” he nodded.

Xiaren’s mouth flickered in a small grin before she suppressed the emotion, the sha growling and sinking it’s claws into her shoulders. She had remembered what the song had sounded like to her, she never wanted to hear that again.

The voices, voices long dead from her childhood, from before the darkness and madness and pain, begging and pleading with her to abandon this path. She hated that thought. Revenge against the ‘heroes’ who had caused Pandaria to fall to war, who had robbed her of everything, that was all she wanted now.

“We march within the hour, make ready Xiaren.” stated the death knight as he turned to go.

“Oh I am very ready…” she snarled, flexing her fingers as, behind her, the sha giggled malevolently.

Hallowfall, near the cliffs leading into Azj-kahet

The nerubians swarmed over the edge of the cliffs towards the Arathi lands, lead by their ascended. It had been discovered recently during some covert operations led by Lillian Voss that the ascended were more than just enhanced by their infusions with the Black Blood. Xal’atath could use the blood to take direct control of their minds! Each of the ascended’s eyes glowed with the power of the void, driven into a battle frenzy by the harbinger as they clashed with the defenders.

“Stand fast! Ready another volley of ballista bolts quickly!” shouted General Steelstrike as, behind her, the lamplighters frantically reloaded their weapons. Ahead of them the rest of their solders, along with the earthen of Dornogal and the forces of the Alliance and Horde stood ready.

Among the forces of the Alliance and Horde were the members of Avalon and Savage United. Nelen and Grimo stood together at their head, the worgen man channeling the power of the arcane to blast his foes backwards off the cliffs to fall, screaming and flailing, into the depths of the caverns. The goblin… mostly the same, but less wand waving and more gunpowder.

A familiar roar came from nearby as Galdia tore into another one, a crash of thunder booming through the caves. She had insisted on bringing Zayera with her, her new stormrook companion named for her fallen friend from Draenor. Well, friend… lover… Galdia didn’t bother with titles. She liked Zayera, a lot. Details didn’t matter to her. What did matter to her, and right now her allies, was that the stormrook had the ability to imbue her sword and shield with the power of her elemental might, causing the orc’s strikes to electrocute her foes as much as cut them. Also, the stormrook was a powerful combatant in her own right, and able to help drive back the nerubian’s flying forces. The air around Zayera crackled with lightning, the fliers who came close to her were blown out of the sky!

Standing before Grimo and Nelen were Dareley and Mola’raum, acting as a guard for their ranged allies. Dareley wore a newly forged suit of plate mail, modeled after the Arathi style, to replace the one that Nyloc had aged into rust and tatters while Mola’raum wore his usual mix of trollish clothes and blackened Maldraxxi forged gear. Dareley’s kyrian made sword glowed with a radiance to outshine Beledar at its zenith as he sliced into another advancing nerubian while the blades on Mola’raum’s glave were lit with the baleful power of the Shadowlands, the necrotic energy rotting his foes from within with each strike.

Behind them all was Sekhi, the vulpera piping away on her flute as her fingers worked in a blur along the length of the wooden tool. Each note empowered a huge stormcloud that had formed over the battlefield, and each finished line of her song was punctuated by a blast of lightning arcing down into the nerubian forces!

Despite this, the arachnids pushed onwards. The ascended could no more refuse the will of Xal’atath than they could gravity, their minds utterly overridden by the Harbinger’s power. The rest of the nerubians were driven on by fear of defying her and their Queen. Whether they supported Ansurek or not, now was not the time to question… not if they liked their head where it was when they woke up that morning.

The rest of their allies were scattered among their forces, but every so often they would catch a glimpse of the familiar bulk of Shalandrae in her bear form as she mauled another attacker, or they’d see the shadowy form of Nitika Darkhoof as she unleashed the power of the Void back against their enemies. It could be hard to pick them out among the other defenders however, every adventurer on the Island seemed to have answered the call to arms!

As the battle raged, Sekhi paused, her ears perking up as she looked around. “That song… Grimo! Nelen! I hear ‘em! Garnal ‘n Xiaren are comin’!” she yipped in warning as the goblin and mage hesitated, looking around the battlefield.

Grimo frowned and lowered his goggles, turning on his NME (necro-mantic energy meter,) but Mola’raum was nearby and there were plenty of other undead in their ranks. Several members of the Ebon Blade, as well as quite a few forsaken. Voss herself was there, and her own power shined like a beacon to the goblin’s sensors… then he looked up and took aim, “INCOMING!” he barked as two nerubian flyers descended.

Astride the spidery fliers were their two foes, Garnal Blackice and Xiaren! The two dodged to the right as Grimo’s rifle cracked off, a blast of buckshot just barely missing Garnal as he snarled and leaned forward, the flier going into a dive.

Xiaren frowned and raised her hands, then slammed them forward. “GO!” she commanded, and ahead of the defenders a voidgate opened and a frenzied scream came from within! Out of the voidgate surged a mob of skardyn, the corrupted earthen rushing towards the defenders!

Dareley swore and lashed out with his sword, the light-blessed metal cutting through the void-corrupted earthen like butter, but Xiaren had clearly been keeping a lot of minions in reserve. More kept coming to join the nerubians!

Garnal drew close, darting to the left as a blast of arcane energy sizzled through the sky, and with a roar he leapt from the flyer and landed behind Grimo and Nelen, right infront of Sekhi! The ground shook with the impact of his landing as the force knocked the vulpera off her feet to land behind him.

Sekhi’s flute went clattering to the ground, the vulpera yipping in shock as she reached for it, then quickly pulled her arm back as the fanged blade of the death knight slammed into the ground between her hand and the wooden instrument.

“The Harbinger has marked you for death vulpera…” growled Garnal as he raised his other blade. Behind him Grimo and Nelen readied their own attacks, but Mola’raum and Dareley were too focused on keeping the nerubians and skardyn back! They couldn’t help!

Sekhi’s ears folded back, but she raised her hands and whistled under her breath, and lighting began to crackle around her fingertips. She wasn’t the novice she was when they went to the Shadowlands anymore, she knew how to fight! “S-stay back!” she barked, baring her teeth at him.

The death knight sneered, an aura of sickly green energies crackling over his armor. Anti-magic, a powerful defensive tool to thwart spellcasters. Sekhi’s lightning would be little more than static to him with that up.

Behind him Nelen unleashed a salvo of arcane missiles, the shield absorbing them all with ease, as Grimo’s rifle crackled off, the bullet ricocheting off his armor with the death knight barely noticing as he raised his sword…

… and with a sudden woosh a cloud soared over the battlefield and a shape landed next to him. With a roar a figure slammed her fist into the joint where his armor plates met, sending Garnal stumbling several feet away, his swing going wide and just missing Sekhi’s muzzle.

Jaie Swiftpaw didn’t hesitate, the pandaren woman rushing forward and landing another series of strikes into his armor, her hands glowing as she channeled the pure energies of life against him! Garnal grimaced, the energy flowing around his armor to attack him directly! She may be using her bare hands against plate armor, but she wasn’t just attacking him with her fists alone! He couldn’t defend against chi!

Sekhi scrambled to her feet as Jaie lashed out with her foot, sending him stumbling backwards. “Jaie! Hot sands that was good timin’…” she nodded, quickly retrieving her flute and holding it tight to her as if scared she’d drop it again.

“I could sense Xiaren, so I knew he had to be here too!” she nodded. If there was one thing every monk recognized it was the aura of one of the sha! There was no forgetting that after Pandaria!

Garnal scowled, the death knight readied his blades, the undead warrior’s eyes darting between the vulpera and pandaren, as well as their goblin and worgen allies. Four on one, not great odds… and they were about to get worse for him.

“Xiaren! TAKE THE VULPERA!” he barked. Before they could react Xiaren’s flyer swooped down and a blast of webbing shot out of its mouth! Sekhi yipped in shock, but nerubian webs were as strong as steel! The silken fibers enclosed her and lifted the struggling vulpine right off her feet as Xiaren soared off towards one of the nearby Arathi villages that had already fallen under assault from their forces.

“SEKHI!” shouted Jaie, glaring at Garnal and then back up at the retreating flyer…

As she did however a blast of light lit up the field nearby. Dareley had sheathed his sword and shield and invoked the light once more, the earthen paladin wielding a hammer of pure holiness now as he unleashed it’s might against the attackers, allowing Mola’raum to fall back.

“Go!” he nodded to the pandaren, pointing his glave towards Xiaren. “I got dis…” he snarled, turning to Garnal. Jaie nodded to him, then pulled out her flying disk and leapt atop it as she raced off after Xiaren and her captive.

Garnal glared at him, standing ready to repeal any assault… but Mola’raum did not raise his weapon. Instead he reached into his pouch, then pulled out a small stone… with the image of a skeleton holding a scythe on it. “Know wut dis be, traitor?” he smirked.

Garnal’s eyes widened. He knew, EVERY death knight knew. He stepped back once, then again, making ready to retreat, but Mola’raum was faster.

“I, Mola’raum of de Ebon Blade, call to ya Reaper!” he roared, his words echoing as the symbol on the stone lit up with a baleful light, “I name Garnal Blackice traitor ta de Ebon Blade! STRIKE HIM DOWN!”

Before Garnal could go further a death’s gate erupted into existence next to Mola’raum and from within its shadowy depths came the clatter of hooves. The Reaper had heard his call, the Reaper was coming!

Garnal grimaced and turned, intent on putting as much distance between himself and the portal as he could… and then from within the shadows erupted a skeletal steed, it’s bones glowing with a crimson aura. Astride it was a woman with deep red hair, a two-handed claymore sheathed upon her back. She was dressed not in armor, but in a suit that a nobleman might have worn. She unsheathed her blade and held it out, standing atop her mount, and then in one fluid motion she leapt from it’s back and landed on the path ahead of Garnal, causing him to stumble to a halt.

“Not so fast!” she laughed, her voice higher pitched than one might expect. “I hear your call Mola’raum! Garnal Blackice, you have been named traitor and now you face the Reaper! Stand and fight or flee and die!” she taunted.

If Garnal could sweat, he would have… the sight of this woman chilled his undead blood even more than it already was. This was a Reaper, the elite of the Ebon Blade, the true loyal knights chosen by Bolivar and his Horsemen to hunt down traitors and mad knights and… deal with them.

Though to some outsiders it would look odd that Garnal was hesitating to attack her… given that she only came up to his waist.

Standing there, her blade’s point aimed towards him as she smirked confidently, was a gnome!

“Nankoz…” he growled, gripping his weapons as he weighed his options…

Nelen’s ears perked up, catching Garnal’s voice. “Nankoz? Why does that name sound familiar…” muttered the magus.

The gnome smirked, “That’s right, you betrayed the Ebon Blade, and now you face Nankoz Scarletspark, queen of the vampyr!” she taunted, then the gnome dove forward and lashed out with her sword as Garnal swore and brought his up just in time to block her weapon, the death knight almost knocked off his feet by the force of the blow! Despite her size, this gnome was strong!

Nelen snapped his fingers, hearing that again. “Wait… wait wait wait… it… that name… it can’t be…” he began, then he yelped and ducked as a blast of shadows flew just past his head, “Right, worry about it later!” he snarled, turning his attention back to the battlefield as Grimo and Mola’raum joined him.

Garnal fought back, but even with his weapons enhanced by the black blood he was being pressed back by his diminutive assailant! She may be a gnome, but she was fast and her sword seemed to weigh almost nothing in her arms, the edge shining with a bloody smear that seemed to never vanish no matter how many times it slammed into his own.

He stumbled back, then grinned as a snarl went up nearby. Nankoz’s head looked up to see a mob of skardyn bearing down on her. The starcursed earthen would attack anyone they saw as a target, and she certainly counted.

She smirked, then ran her hand along the edge of her sword and forced her blood out onto the ground. The spilled blood began to boil, then the puddle of blood suddenly swelled and grew with alarming speed as it surged upwards into a massive monster made of crimson liquid! “GO!” she commanded as the blood beast surged forward into her attackers before she turned back to Garnal… then paused.

She looked to the left, then to the right, but the skardyn had been the distraction he’d needed. Garnal had vanished into the chaos of the battlefield, preferring to take his chances with the other defenders than face down a Reaper.

“Oh sprockets…” she huffed, sheathing her blade. “Well, he’s after Mola’raum and his buddies…” she grinned, and as she did one might notice her canines were sharper than a normal gnome’s. “He’ll be back…” she giggled.

Elsewhere…

The village had all but fallen to the nerubian swarm. Chaos and death were everywhere. It would be the perfect place to get rid of someone troublesome Xiaren reasoned.

Perhaps it would have been better to retreat into the depths of Azj-kahet with her captive, but right now she wasn’t thinking especially clearly. Truth was most times were like that, but now more than normal. She hated that Sekhi’s song had awoken such memories in her, she wanted it silenced.

She landed her flyer and dragged the struggling cocooned vulpera away towards one of the buildings which was on fire from the assault. “Just… toss the fox in there… and let the fire do it’s thing…” she growled, trying hard to keep her emotions smothered as she felt the sha’s claws digging into her.

No emotion, no feeling, just do the deed. Even the tiniest flicker of emotion was food for her shadow, and that shadow was NOT her ally. It would turn on her given the slightest chance.

Suddenly she heard a whistling sound in the air, the woman pausing. Being blind for several years (technically still blind, but she could use the sha’s eyes to see) gave her extremely accurate hearing… and she looked to her left just in time to see Jaie Swiftpaw, on her flying disc, approaching at speed!

Xiaren swore and dove out of the way as Jaie landed and slashed with her spear, the tip severing the threads that the sha-corrupted pandaren had been holding as the sorceress scrambled backwards. Another flick of her speartip and the cocoon split open as Sekhi immediately sat up and gasped for breath, her eyes wide and her knuckles white under her fur from gripping her flute.

“Sekhi… what does her song sound like?” asked Jaie, glaring at Xiaren as the sha sorceress raised her hands, shadows crackling between her fingers.

Sekhi cocked her head, then her ears flicked. “Um… I dunno… th’ sha’s song is really really really loud, ‘n really hungry… but I can barely hear her’s.” she nodded, “She’s forcin’ it down, hard.” she nodded.

Jaie nodded, then stepped forward. “Xiaren. This doesn’t have to end in death. I am a monk. I can use my chi to sever the sha’s hold on you! Surrender, let me help you!” she called to their foe.

Xiaren’s expression grew furious. “Help… always offering help…” she spat, “ITS TOO LATE FOR THAT!” she swore, then shuddered and took a deep breath, forcing the sudden rush of anger back down before the sha could latch onto it. “Nobody helped me for too long… I don’t care about it anymore!” she replied icily, raising her hand as she prepared a blast of shadows.

Jaie grimaced and dove to the side as the blast slammed a hole through one of the half-collapsed houses, Sekhi scrambling the other way.  She didn’t bother summoning the skardyn (all she’d kept in reserve were back at the battlefront anyways.) She wanted to deal with this one herself. Slowly she rose into the air as tendrils of sha-corrupted energies swirled around her, the woman readying another spell… then smirking.

“Nobody saved me… so why should anyone else be saved?” she asked, and a chill went down Jaie’s spine as she took aim, but not at her or Sekhi.

A blast of shadows shot through one of the still intact windows of a nearby house and screams came from inside! Xiaren grinned widely, then blasted through a barricade infront of another house. Moments later a trio of nerubians raced inside, terrified cries coming from the building’s interior!

Jaie glared, “STOP IT! These people have done nothing to you!” she demanded, but Xiaren was airborne now and she couldn’t fight her in midair!

Sekhi could however, the vulpera putting her flute to her muzzle and piping out a quick tune as a bolt of lightning arced down from the cavern roof only for Xiaren’s sha to manifest and bat it away with one massive claw, cackling at them as it did so.

Xairen stared at Jaie, “So what?! I didn’t do anything to anyone, but that didn’t stop what happened to me!” she retorted, her impassive visage cracking as emotion seeped back in. This monk was infuriating! She HATED her. She tried to force it down, but it was a hot searing feeling in her mind. She couldn’t hide it entirely. She spoke of helping her, of what was right… but rightness didn’t save her! Nobody had helped her! She had to deal with her sha all on her own!

She heard a crash nearby… then saw an arathi woman racing through the town towards the road out that would lead away from the battle towards Mereldar… and without thinking she lashed out at her with a burst of sha-corruption. The blast hit the woman full on and she screamed in pain as her mind and body erupted with agony, falling to the ground.

Sekhi and Jaie ran to the fallen woman, but they weren’t the only ones… a young Arathi boy who couldn’t have been more than ten ran from hiding.

“MOM!” he screamed in terror as he fell to his knees at her side.

Jaie rolled the woman onto her back as Sekhi’s ears flicked, the vulpera looking to Jaie, then shaking her head sadly. She couldn’t hear the woman’s song anymore. Xiaren’s spell had killed her.

The boy stared at the woman’s corpse in shock and horror, too young to really process what he was seeing. He began to weep, to try to shake her, to beg her to wake up… for this to just not be real.

Xiaren stared at them. She wanted to shout that this was how it felt, that this was what she had to endure too, that nobody would save them from the void and it’s power… but then she’d seen the child.

Her mind flashed back suddenly to a small village in the Valley of the Four Winds, the mantid swarming over it, laying siege to it as the spawn of the Sha of Fear feasted on the villager’s terror.

She saw another woman, a pandaren woman bleeding out from a mantid blade, and next to her a young pandaren girl crying and screaming for her to wake up and flee, not yet realizing that she was already gone.

A village that had done no wrong, besieged by the insectoid descendants of the aquir and their dark allies… just… like… this.

“I…” whispered Xiaren, “… that… I…” she stammered, unable to halt the sudden surge of conflicting emotions in her mind… and that was all it needed.

"MINE!" roared her Sha as it sank its claws deep into her psyche! "MINE MINE MINE!"

Jaie and Sekhi’s heads snapped up at the sound of Xiaren’s scream as her body erupted with an aura of sha corruption, the voidspawned horror cackling with malevolent glee as the pandaren woman fell to the ground, her hands beginning to twist into claws as the sha attempted to fully possess her!

Jaie leapt to her feet. “Sekhi! Get him out of here!” she shouted as she slid into the ox stance, the vulpera grabbing the arathi boy by the arm and trying to urge him out of the city even as he cried for his mother and tried to drag her body along with them.

There was a swirl of darkness all around Xiaren’s body as she began to manifest visible signs of sha corruption. Learning to control the sha’s power had made her body that much better a host for it. Perhaps that was Xal’atath’s plan, to ensure that if nothing else she could simply unleash the sha upon her and have a monster when she needed it, but in either case the surge of emotions had totally shattered Xiaren’s mental defenses keeping it in check, and the sha held back no longer!

The starcursed pandaren’s head snapped towards Jaie, her ruined eyes wide and wild as her teeth extended into sha-corrupted fangs. She raised her hands and unleashed a wave of darkness as Jaie leapt over it and raced towards her, the monk’s hands glowing with the jade light of purified chi.

Jaie knew she had to stop Xiaren. In her current state she’d level what was left of the village, and any survivors that hadn’t managed to escape yet would meet the same fate as that poor arathi woman on the ground.

Jaie rolled out of the way of another burst of darkness, then leapt aside at another, closing the distance to Xiaren as fast as she could, already able to see the sha monster attached to her even without Nitika’s help. The creature had merged enough with her to manifest almost fully.

Xiaren flailed with more and more blasts of darkness as Jaie sped towards her. Twenty feet, ten… and finally Jaie was close enough for her claws to reach her. Xiaren screamed wordlessly and raised her hands, now more akin to massive talons, ready to bring them down upon the monk, as Jaie lashed out and slammed her hands outwards, one landing on Xiaren’s forehead and the other on her chest, as she unleashed the chi she had been storing into the sorceress!

Time seemed to freeze for them, the chi linking them mind and body as Jaie unleashed her power through Xiaren and at the sha… and as she did she saw something.

She saw a massive swirling sha-monstrosity, its eyes gleaming with malevolence, its body dripping… literally dripping with shadows like some sort of ink or oil.

Buried under it all was a small pandaren child, barely more than a girl.

The girl looked up at her, her expression showing a bone deep exhaustion so painful that the monk could almost feel it herself… and Jaie recognized her face.

Then there was a sudden snap and both pandaren went flying away from each other. Jaie landed in a heap as Xiaren crashed into a wall behind her, the sorceress coughing loudly as the wind was knocked out of her. The claws and fangs were gone, Jaie’s magic had managed to break the Sha’s hold for now. She could almost hear it screaming in thwarted fury.

Jaie got to her feet shakily, “That… you…” she stammered.

Xiaren stared at her, then roared and blasted a stream of shadows in her direction before slamming her other hand on the wall behind her, tearing open a voidgate. “STAY AWAY FROM ME!” she shrieked before she dove through it, the portal snapping shut behind her.

Jaie stared at where she’d been, her mind reeling with what she’d seen. Xiaren had done horrible things, but… under it all, under all the rage and fury… she was still that pandaren child. She had never moved on from that day, she had never had the chance to heal and grow. The sha had forced her to stay, for years and years, the same helpless pandaren child who had lost her family to the mantid.

Jaie looked towards the body of the arathi woman Xiaren had killed, then back to where she’d vanished, and shook her head. Whatever the reasons, Xiaren was dangerous. They had to find a way to stop her. Jaie wanted that to be purging her sha and freeing her from her torment… but… it may come down to simply stopping her before her madness cost any more lives.

Next Story

Previous Story

[featherymainffins]

Actually fuck it here's the rest of how it would go but it's a bit of a speedrun because I'd need 5k+ words to do it right:

For a brief moment, her eyes shine bright pink and the scene changes.

Mud coats your legs. The unpleasant opaque liquid makes her thighs disappear. The dark nearly makes her whole body disappear.

That's right, it's dark.

You barely make out the outline of her arms, but the stitches, the stitches radiate a new light. You should know how far they go, how they separate her forearms in perfect halves, how they split her torso like a pig to slaughter, yet this is the first time you properly notice.

"Hey," rings in your ears as her face comes into focus mere inches away from yours, "would you kill me?"

"What?" is all you can manage.

A smile

grin

grimace

laughing maw splits her face in half, just another stitch, except this one is pure black, a darkness to consume all darkness. Her neck bends in an angle not fit for the living.

"Will you not kill me?" her eyebrows squish, forming waves and hills separating them.

Before you can say anything, her nails dig into your arms. A cold liquid reluctantly makes its way to your elbows.

"Come on, will you not kill me? Would you be so kind? My task is over, it is all over...right?" that hole of a mouth spits.

Her eyes widen, two stethoscopes staring at you with intense primal emotions you cannot place. The wider they are, the stronger her grip becomes.

"It is over, therefore it is my time to die. So kill me. Just kill me."

The milliseconds that precede your words feel like centuries. Centuries in a darkness illuminated by nothing but several pieces of thread glowing neon pink.

"Why do I have to do it?" you ask.

At this, Liliana pauses. Her eyes, previously wild and present, stay still. They glaze over as if she was deep in thought or somewhere else.

You aren't sure how it happens or why, but where there was an abyss, there are normal lips again. Dry, chapped and pale but otherwise normal human lips. The eyebrows, too, regain a certain degree of humanity, the waves slowly morphing into much less noticeable curves. Even the darkness around you two turns a hue more appropriate for the night.

Before, you were starting to feel like there was nothing. Nothing but the woman in front of you and the mud below and the fully black sky above. But now it's just dark and if you squint, you can see a few stars in the sky, shining just as bright as your eyes.

The stitches still shine too.

"You do not have to do it," her voice is barely audible and her head hangs low. "If it is unpleasant to you, then do not do it."

Coming back to her senses, her claws remove themselves from your flesh. The liquid beneath your feet splashes as the distance between the two of you increases and the distance between Liliana's hands and arms decreases.

"I can very well simply leave the vessel. Quite the anticlimactic ending of a show though," she cracks a smile. "I was hoping for a proper end. A proper climax before the curtains close."

She turns away for a moment, her eyes looking up towards the sky. The smile stays on but you suspect the meaning behind it is on its way home. Her knees seem to buckle, a slight tremble overcoming the legs, and you consider whether or not you should catch her. Despite appearances, nothing happens.

"When I was but a child, I used to play here. I remember using a twig to draw shapes in the wet ground surrounding the swamp. I imagined myself drowning in the water, sinking to the very bottom, gasping for breath, for air that could never come, dying with my dress flowing around me. It was a truly pleasant day dream."

You don't know what to say to that (you do, but, maybe for the first time in your life, you keep your mouth shut) so you say the only other thing that you can think of: "I didn't know sutures could be that colour."

Her eyes trail to her forearms and chest almost immediately.

"Purple?" she inquires with furrowed eyebrows.

"They're pink, Lillian," you give her a few seconds to digest that. "They're a truly bright fuchsia pink, like some kind of glitter-decorated star stickers you give to children."

"...Oh," is all you get in response, her gaze firmly planted on the Xs on her chest. "Well, do you want to be the star of this show?"

You think about it.

The sky begins to darken once more.

You think about what you want to do and about what you should do. You think about teasing her, asking her who allowed her to die. You think about the possible outcomes of that and decide against it.

It's getting cold. You think about how much colder it could be. You think about your legs and ask yourself if they aren't starting to freeze in the swamp. You think about the murky waters.

"Get out of the water."

"I would prefer to die in it. Aqua vitae and all that, and I am not talking about alcohol right now."

You think about the lack of a weapon. About how her eyes reflect the sky - empty and still, not dead but not alive. You think about the radioactive glow of the coating of her fresh-yet-old wounds.

"I've always preferred 'Per aspera ad astra'. Hand me a sharp rock," you all but bark.

She shoots you a look. For a brief moment. For a moment that cannot be longer than a second and that can definitely be shorter. For a fraction of the click of a watch, the way she moves her body, the way she looks at you, the way her facial muscles twitch suggest she has realised something. But then...then it's gone.

The next thing you know, there's a rock in your hand.

The sky is a void with nothing in it. The swamp is an opaque abyss of static unlife. Despite standing right before Liliana, you would not be able to see a single hair on her head were it not for those threads, now the sole source of light. They form a constellation whose only mission is to shine brighter than the moon or the sun. The light overpowers her blue skin, coating her in the colour of roses. Or blood before a boy could wear the real colour of blood.

And then the curtain closes. The narrative ends. Ophelia has drowned, Eurydice will never see the light of day, Niobe has died. The curtain closes on the stage.

Realised Liliana is so funny for real because in a true inversion fashion she wants to die so so bad.

In the fangame you'd probably have to spend an unimaginable amount of time convincing a certain guy that nothing lasts forever and that it's better for him to accept peace and move on.

You'd have to convince Liliana "I'm a shield and Aesop's turtle" not to off herself. I am convinced that in AU AU AU, as far as the endings of the equivalent of the second installment go, she'd just...die in the evil endings. The little montages you get are whimsical and meme-y (well except for that one plot relevant ending). Well hers wouldn't be.

They'd start like that at first. A little retreat to a lake. A beautiful crystal clear lake with a waterfall nearby, nothing flashy, nothing famous. Nothing crowded. If you find it lacks the wacky vibe of canon, you are free to imagine a few badly cropped jpgs of seagulls hastily pasted into the scene. A funny little montage of your hijinks. Maybe she's holding up a giant lobster in one of them. Maybe she caught it with her teeth. Maybe you did.

And then she turns to you. That's wrong.

Her head turns to you, the creases on her neck a little too stiff, too dry. Something has changed.

What is it?

"Hey," she says.

What is different?

"I have a favour to ask," her voice carries through the air.

Now her whole body turns towards you. With a loud splash, her legs move her towards you, the lake almost making it look like she has no legs at all; a floating ghost haunting your present as much as your past.

Your ears pick it up first. Splash splash. You listen closely. Splash splash. You listen urgently.

"My dear friend," those words reach your ears.

Nothing else does.

The water is perfectly still. No waves singing their song. No sound of the water moving over stones and pebbles. No falling water to be heard. No birds nor frogs to start a choir. No rustling trees. No falling leaves for the wind to drum with. All is quiet.

"Would you do the honours and kill me?"

I realised that at this point I'm just writing a wholeass scene. I'm not gonna do that so godspeed and goodbye.

[unholyplumpprincess]

Courtship Rules

For the lovley @beansapalooza for some alien fucking! For Science!

Summary: You are a scientist on a team of four sent to live on a planet where xenomorphs inhabit. You are all to have your studies on them, everyone has their own thing. You? Well. You study their breeding habits. Perhaps getting a little TOO close to that knowledge. But, what better way to study than hands on? Or. In which a xenomorph recognizes you from its past and believes you to be its mate. Who are you to refuse getting stuffed full of eggs? All in the name of science, of course.

Reblogs > Likes. Minors and ageless blogs will be blocked, have your age in your bio to interact!

Fandom: Aliens - Aliens VS Predators

Relationship: Xenomorph/Reader

Warnings: NSFT/R18+, Reader is gn and has a vulva + is chubby, oviposition/ovipositors, knotting, brief brief mentions of mild gore that’s canon typical, breeding, you get stuffed with alien eggs!

Words: 8.7k

_________

The mission relayed to you had been one of great importance. But it came with great dangers, dangers that you were all aware of.  

There were four of you total, almost all scientists in your own regard. A handful of teams had come into contact with the creatures you were now studying. And all those teams had wound up dead.  

One of those teams, years ago who had first come into contact with them, didn’t know what they were up against or what they were bringing back. Another team had been sent to wipe them out, claiming them to be parasites, with only one survivor to return to tell the tale. Another team had been sent out as a means to take one or two back to study in cages on their ships, once again did not go well. Another team sent to explore their home planet, weapons in hand because exterminating the species had been the only thing on their mind. Then another team, and another, and another...  

Other teams were documented, more and more who wanted to quietly try and study or eliminate them. All failed. All dead.  

~Rest under the cut~

All marked in the files and reports you had read with big red stamps over pictures of people just like you reading ‘deceased’. Graphic images of rib cages and stomachs burst open and people hanging in this thick, black goop. Holes stabbed straight through the hearts or the forehead. These aliens, classified under the term Xenomorph, were quick killing predators who were used to getting what they needed to survive.  

They were bred that way, for fighting and survival.  

Your team was to study them. All of you had different projects given to you. Your team consisted of: Lillian, a tall woman with wild curls of deep red down her back and warm brown skin with a smile that could break hearts. She studied how they lived through the hive, their ranking, and what was the importance of all of their systems. This also included breaking down their anatomy and worked hand in hand with you.  

Frankie, a short haired nonbinary person with a deep olive skin tone and a soft, shy personality that could become booming once excited. They were in charge of monitoring and studying the physical data that came in through either physical  samples  of the hive or sediment from the planet to see if there was a connection. Different points of study depending on the surrounding climates.  

And Mavrick, who was on the way taller side of all of you and needed to duck to get around your ship. A man with sharp teeth and charmingly an asshole, with wild hair and quite the affinity for Frankie. Who was, as far as you knew, married to them. He wasn’t a researcher, but an engineer who kept your ship intact and in one piece, in charge of sending messages out when supplies were needed.  

And you? Well. You studied their breeding habits. There had been question that if a Queen was not involved, how did they breed? However, this hive didn’t have a queen. Two years ago, when your team was sent here, they did. But she passed away and became one with the hive walls. It had brought a concern to all of you thinking that there was no survival to continue so therefor no mission, and yet, it seemed in record time, they evolved in peculiar ways.  

The xenomorphs before both exhibited both internal and external genitalia, but they didn’t seem to actually  use  said genitalia until recently when the Queen had died. Xenomorphs lived in freezing cold environments, their bodies just as cold blooded despite their blood being so high in acidity that it could melt a floor. Yet, even with these factors, they adapted to fit the environments they were in. Whether warm or cold.  

Through varied, new studies on these peculiar evolutions, xenomorphs with internal genitalia could hold the eggs given to them by their external genitalia counterparts.  But,  the problem is the eggs don’t tend to survive unless the xenomorph stays warm enough for them to incubate. And refusing to leave their freezing cold hive meant there was no chance they could keep their bodies warm.  

Curiosity and in the name of science had led your team to carefully place blankets near their hive. And with cameras you had been able to see how they built nests with these. The xenomorphs carrying the eggs staying warmed and inside of them in order to incubate these eggs until they could lay them. With trial and error, the xenomorphs learned that their bodies had to stay warm in order to hatch the eggs they now carried.  

However, that could be too big a trial for a xenomorph always on the go and within the hive. They needed something more permanent that wasn’t hindering for them.  

The older, bigger eggs from the Queen used to hatch with what was called ‘Face huggers’ due to their spider leg appearance and long tails. Other creatures on the planet were captured in their hive and used as hosts for these beings to lay their eggs and then curl up and die. It took either days or weeks depending on the size- or rank- of the xenomorph before the ‘chest burster’ would emerge and crack through the rib cage or abdomen of its host. Which left the xenomorphs to do very little than simply capture live prey and let the face huggers do the rest.  

This new evolution for their spawn to continue required more work. And yet, the eggs that hatched from these evolved ones were what used to be deemed as ‘chest  bursters’. Which took out the need for face huggers, so eliminating a step. Curiously, these young xenomorphs were hatched warm blooded and then developed to be cold blooded as they grew and adapted to their environment. Another proof of their steps in adaptability to fit the climates that surrounded them.  

That’s what you and Lillian had been studying together, the new evolution of xenomorphs and how their bodies had adjusted as well as breeding patterns. It also seemed that the xenomorphs were now trying to branch out into warmer areas of the planet where beasts were, another study that Frankie was making note of. It made sense that the warm-blooded beings would be warm and could keep their eggs alive without needing to do all that work of blankets and trying to keep their own bodies warm. It saved a step.  

However, the current study conducted by your team was monitoring  how  these creatures were going to use these beasts to their advantage.  

There were cameras in the dark hive that let you guys see what was happening. But all of you had also figured out that a year in that you could suit up entirely head to toe and use the collected pheromones from the xenomorphs to mask that you were in the hive. It made physical data collection a lot easier, and less suspicious than sending in a humming drone to collect the data in a little basket. 

Those got destroyed quite frequently by a well-aimed, sharp tail.  

Though, it was still an unnerving task having to go into the hive. Going in the dark with only the screen on your goggles to see through the dark of the rooms or the small beams of light coming in from the ceiling. Hearing the taps of claws passing by as they worked through the hive. Sometimes there would be a hiss and you had to ensure you didn’t stiffen up or jump to draw attention to yourselves. Any sort of abnormality in behavior could be seen as an infiltrator.  

The first time your team had done this, you went in a full group of four. It had been a scary time as you carefully moved in a group. But for the most part the xenomorphs thought you must have been a bigger drone worker, because they’d pass you guys by without so much as a glance or hesitation.  

The jig had almost been up when you all had made it to the egg room, one of the warm-blooded creatures stuck on the wall suddenly howling out and a chest burster breaking from it.  

Mavrick had drawn his gun first out of reflex, no sound from any of you as to not alert the hive. You understood as the reaction was only natural because you guys knew how dangerous they could all be. Yet, for some reason you had quickly scooped up the chest burster and held it to your chest. Vigorously shaking your head for reasons other than the fact it would have alerted the others to investigate and perhaps slaughter your team. Reason that, to this day, you couldn’t quite pinpoint why you did it.  

The chest burster looked...different than the others. Its crown wasn’t smooth, but tall and pointed- very much like, well, a crown. It looked similar to a Queen xenomorph child, but there would be no need for a queen, and this one wasn’t quite big enough to classify as even that. Perhaps some new evolved version of a higher rank?  

Regardless of these questions, you quickly had run to one of the small holes that led to another room. Gently, you’d set the shockingly quiet and non-squirming chest burster down, quickly shooing it off.  

You can’t help but feel like it lingered to look at you- but you knew these creatures were very well almost near blind, fairly near sighted. Everything seen in a blurry black and white for them. There was no way it could have seen you in that grand of detail- and your team wasn’t sure about how well their memories held at that time.  So,  there was no  guarantee  it was trying to actually see or remember you in some way.  

It had been a scary moment for all of you. Your human instincts all told you to run or to kill it, and yet you felt this pull to keep it alive. Perhaps it was just because you had been studying them for so long that you were attached to this hive. That would make sense, even if you knew that at a moment’s notice the xenomorphs would take you out for infiltrating. A clean, swift death from either a  tail or  their strange miniature mouths.  

Sort of how people back on Earth would care for a lion pride, knowing full well they could be killed if they so much as stopped feeding them.  

Today, a year later, you have to go into the hive. You do this as often as you could, nearly once a week in order to collect physical data. Since you’re the only one who feels particularly brave enough to do it so often, you don’t mind the everyday suit up in order to get better data on all of your studies.  

However, the reason today was due to one of the cameras having fallen off the wall of the hive looking into the nesting room. It was crucial to have it up, especially since you were focusing on studying their new mating and breeding habits. One of which being how they were trying to figure out how to use beasts like they had in the past to hold their eggs. But, the  old-fashioned  way of a face hugger implanting it in their chest clearly wasn’t  going  to happen.  

Pheromones are sprayed across your  pitch-black  suit and helmet to ensure you blended in with the hive. The helmet was unnecessary for planet survival, but necessary in case of an accident; Oxygen was clean and the air was as cold as a fresh winter day, but it allowed you to see in the dim space of their hive, as well as protected your head if you got knocked over.  

And if you did get knocked over, you’d rather that the hive members would have to try to work for their kill at least.  

You keep your cool as you head out of the ship, a camera installed in the front of your suit ensuring that your team could monitor if something went wrong. You keep quiet as you navigate the halls as easily as you would your ship once inside the hive, making sure to keep moving when you hear the taps of claws. If you startled or held still, they would know something was up, so you keep as if you are one of them. As you always did.  

The nesting room is a larger room in the center of the hive, the ceiling open to allow light to be mainly focused here with only spider webs of black goop keeping the hive connected above. Five nesting areas of craters are scattered about with furs from beasts stacked in some or blankets your team had left out. But what’s the most interesting is on the wall is a large beast, looking akin to a saber tooth tiger with far too many eyes and too many tails to be one.  

It was alive. Breathing. Encased in the black goop with four dark gray eggs almost swaddled against its abdomen with more of the hard-black material they used to build their hive. Like a makeshift incubator without killing the beast. That was...interesting. They had tried killing these beasts before, tearing open their abdomens or chests to put their eggs, but they must have learned that the bodies became too cold after a few hours.  

Your eyes light up when you realize they’re going against their very nature to maul upon sight- learning to adapt to keep their species going. Even if it means going against what they were bred to do.  

You spy the camera on the ground near the snoozing beast and carefully creep up. You move it around in your grasp to check for damages, only spotting a slight scratch on the outer edge of it, but thankfully not the lens. That was good, it meant replacement wasn’t necessary and you could just get it back up without needing to go back to your ship for repairs.  

But your train of thought is paused when you hear the beast let out a low, slow growl.  

Your heart pounds, eyes moving up slowly and carefully whilst keeping your body still to not alert it. You soon see its eyes are still closed.  

It was a snore.  

Okay, okay that was fine! Cool, don’t make that sound again, thanks!  

You let out a breath you’d been holding, practically feeling your team do the same when you give a thumbs up to the camera in your grasp after you turn it on. You move towards the back of the room near the nests to mount it on the wall with a sticky adhesive, positioning it to be just right.  

That’s when you hear a different noise right behind you when you take one step back to admire your handiwork. You freeze when you hear the quiet, near nonexistent tapping of claws behind you. Normally when the xenomorphs were walking, you could hear them. This was a deliberate drag of a tail, near silence. The only time they would be quiet is if...  

Is if they were hunting.  

Your heart is pounding heavily in your ears, your hands shaking by your sides and your breath quickening. You swallow heavily, remembering their body language and how they responded to quick movement. You don’t move a muscle, hearing the low hiss of warning behind you and the drag of its tail sound lighter as it’s lifted.  

You tuck and roll to the right just as quick as the tail stabs just where you were standing, narrowly missing the camera on the wall. You yelp when you land yourself in one of the craters of their nests, scrambling back on your elbows and watching the xenomorph crawl after you with that same high hiss of warning.  

You were an intruder in their nesting ground. That was the biggest offense.   

Your lips quiver, vision blurring with fat tears when it crawls overtop you. Its large body frames your own with its long head lowering down towards your helmet. Its mouth of razor-sharp teeth opening and its miniature mouth poised to strike your helmet to attempt to get through the thick glass.  

You knew coming into this that this was dangerous. All of this was dangerous. You can’t even blame the xenomorph. As far as it knew, you were an intruder who just planted something inside of its home. You don’t fear this death, but your heart still races and tears still slide down your cheeks with your instincts to move, to run, to flee.  

And then suddenly. There’s a blur of black as it gets knocked to the side by a much bigger xenomorph.  

It stands a good foot taller than the average six foot they normally are. Its body wider and girthier, circling its hive member with a louder and deeper sounding hiss that reverberates in the room. The smaller one hisses back in a weaker tone, looking over towards your direction and then whipping its head back at the larger xenomorph. Their body language is loud and obvious, an argument of if you were an intruder or not.  

The larger one acts as if this was an argument between hive members and breaking it up.  

The smaller one still bristled and looking at you like trying to prove you didn’t belong there.  

It’s with a slam of the larger one’s thicker tail does the smaller finally scuttle off back down a hallway. You weren’t a threat, you weren’t a danger enough to keep arguing over.  

Your heart is racing as you consider what the fuck just happened. Maybe this larger one wanted to end you instead? Maybe that was its job? Its job was protector, you knew that much from its size. You can’t even think clearly, watching as its head now turns towards you without a single snarl on its face. Except- curious. You...you know this one. With its tall crown flaring out much to look like a crown, like a miniature Queen.  

The chest burster you had practically rescued; You’d only caught glimpses of it as an adult on the cameras. Lillian knew more about it than you, she nicknamed it The Knight.  

No way it could remember you, right? Xenomorphs were based mostly on scent, this was true, but you’d used pheromones then and you definitely used them now. They didn’t pack bond like humans...did they? And even if they did, would it recognize you by your suit alone?  

That would definitely be a new evolutionary trait- but then again, the beast on the wall wasn’t killed either but being used for its heat and kept alive.  

Regardless, the xenomorph is stalking closer, but slower. Not prowling as if making sure to make noise as if it wanted to be sure you saw it. You swallow thickly, flinching when its long fingers outstretch towards your helmet. Its long, wide crowned head cocks. A small, almost trilling noise from its throat as it slowly moves itself into the nest you were currently still lying in. It doesn’t move to be on top of you, instead moving towards your side, gently nudging your side as if to urge you to get out.  

O-oh?  

You move as guided, helped out of the little crater with it again making that same sound as if it was pleased you did what it wanted. You’re still high off your fear, not quite thinking of anything else besides your shaky legs as you climb out. The alien behind you nudges your back with its head, a fond gesture you don’t even think about at first until it’s scooping you up. You don’t make a sound, fearing that yelping would anger it in some way but. But there was something about this...  

You realize how it’s holding you. Cradled to its chest just like you had that little chest burster. It marches purposefully through the hive, back the way you came and keeping you tucked close with a firm grasp. Just like you had done to it to protect it from your team. It was protecting you from the hive just in case the drone had summoned others. Its body language purposeful.  

As it walks, you contemplate what just happened. A drone got angry, went to attack you, and the Knight defended you. Okay, so it must have remembered you, but that trill.  

Why did you know that sound? They only made that sound if--  

Mate.  

It thinks you’re its mate.  

Or rather, trying to court you into being its mate.  

You note it turns a new way down the hive structure. Not towards the exit, but instead to its own area. It has a similar crater in the ground with furs lovingly skinned off beasts piled in said nest. The room is wide, dome shaped almost with a beam of light streaming from up above and into the center of the nest.  

Only higher ranked xenomorphs had their own spaces, especially to breed and nest, whilst the drones used the center room.  

You’re set down oh so carefully into the wide nest that was built bigger than the others for reasons you can only assume is because how big this xenomorph was. It trills once again, but doesn’t follow you into the nest. Moving to lie curled around the edge of it with its head turned towards you and lying on its side to expose its belly and keep its tail far from you. The body language was familiar to you with courtships. ‘I am not a threat’ it’s practically yelling. You almost laugh at how silly this display seems to you as a human, but can’t help the nervousness in your throat.  

“H-hi-” You manage to croak out finally, feeling silly for even deciding to speak.  But,  it merely lifts its head slightly, as if to show you it’s listening. It lets out a low noise in its throat, a sort of snort as if trying to mimic the thickness of your voice. Another sign it was trying to court you with mimicry, despite not having the right vocal  cords  to sound how you sounded.  

It had to know you were another species, right? The pheromones on your suits would mimic a xenomorph, sure, but it carried you in a way that said it knew you were softer in flesh. It would feel that when touching you. It would feel you were much warmer- and maybe that was the key, you realize, it knew you were warmer and could hold its...its eggs without any trouble.  

You cannot place why that does not turn you off or make you frightened in the slightest.  

You can only imagine your team screaming back on the ship with the camera feed in your suit right now. You imagine Lillian is trying to jot down this data as quick as she can in her many, many journals.  

You swallow thickly, remembering all the different noises to indicate certain things. You release a low hiss yourself, pressing your tongue to the roof of your mouth and letting air escape through a small part of your teeth to sound subtle, quiet. ‘Scared’ yours says ‘Not ready’.  

Immediately, the xenomorph perks its head up, slowly rolling back onto its abdomen and hissing the same sound back with a cock of its head. Xenomorphs didn’t take each other without consent, they courted each other much like humans would. And it takes your consent with a question, as if asking if you are sure, and once you repeat the sound followed by a whimper, it sits right up.  

There’s no anger in its movements as it comes closer to your helmet, gently tapping the roundness of its head against your helmet. ‘I will wait’ it says without saying a word. And once more you are offered to come out of the nest, gathered into its arms, set foot through the hive and set just at the mouth of the hive where you had come in.  

It knew you weren’t of its kind. Or else it would have led you right back into the hive. It knew you didn’t belong there. How curious—how smart this creature was.  

 You can’t help but look back at it as it waits by the door, seeming to watch you leave until you leave its near sighted vision. It crawls back into the hive as you race back to your ship with a pounding heart and a sense of longing lingering over your body.  

When you come inside, decontamination processes occur before you can put your suit away and enter the ship safely. Lillian is jumping on you first, to no surprise. You’re dizzy with her hands fretting over you, question after question until she cups your face and wipes away your dried tears. “Are you alright, my dear? I can’t imagine how frightening that was- but oh, how interesting! That is the same creature you had saved, correct?”  

You  kind of vaguely nod to her questions, letting her guide you into your quarters instead. She leaves you to rest when you clearly need your space to think, stroking your cheek fondly and telling you if you need anything, you know you can yell for any of them. But, by the end of the night when dinner is shared between all of you, Mavrick really outdoing himself in the kitchen as always, you manage to share the details.  

From all of your combined studies, you all agree that this was courtship. There was no fear in denying a xenomorph, they all accepted rejections just like a human might without any bloodshed.  But,  Frankie does point something out that’s interesting. “If the xenomorph does lay its eggs in you, wouldn’t that make studying them easier? I mean, if we bring the eggs on board and they hatch, what if they pack bond due to their evolutionary traits?”  

That makes everyone at the table pause to look at them. Watching as they pop a mouthful of chili in their mouth only to notice everyone’s looking at them. They fluster, cheeks warming and covering their mouth with the back of their hand when they speak, their southern accent thicker now. “W-what? I’m just  sayin ’ it’d be easier than trynna collect a sample from an angry alien in the hive!”  

“Frankie. I think that’s the smartest thing you’ve said all year.” You tease lightly, soft laughter from your chest when they shoot you daggers.  

“Why, thank you. I’m glad that saying ‘go get railed by an alien’ is considered a smart option to you.” They huff, earning them a kiss atop their head from Mavrick to soothe their feigned upset attitude.  

After dinner, you help clean up, settling at the table with everyone as you all game plan.  

You weren’t against being mated to a xenomorph, they were your life already, and maybe having one bonded to you would help a lot in your gathered research. Not to mention, sexual repression was high in the ship- unless you were Frankie and Mavrick who most definitely went at it like rabbits when no one was looking. You? Lillian? Nada. Zip. Maybe some alien dick wasn’t so bad for you, although the idea of eggs being inside you should have been terrifying, you can’t help but feel...excited.  

Wow. You really were sexually frustrated, huh?  

Allow the Knight to court you. You could test your limitations within the hive due to it being higher ranking, it would argue against others attacking you. Allow the Knight to, well, mate with you and pray it lets you go back to your ship instead of insisting you stay in the hive. And double pray that the eggs come out and you don’t risk a chest burster becoming a Womb burster.  

What a terrifying thought.  

“Well. Ladies, gentlemen, Frankie. Let’s go make some alien babies, huh?” You announce at the end of it all, earning laughter all around and new excitement buzzing in the air of a new project.  

Operation: “Romance an alien” was a go.  

--  

You don’t have to look very far. When you wake and suit up, you don’t use the pheromones this time. You hear that same deep trill right outside the ship door and the same loud drag of its tail to alert you to its location. You don’t jump back in fear this time or flinch when it gently bumps its head to your helmet, seeming satisfied of your safety. But you do note how it seems to inhale your scent, lowering its head down to the chest of your suit where you must radiate the most heat. Lowering towards your stomach before it moves back to its original position.  

Memorizing you or scenting you, you couldn’t tell.  

You follow it into the hive the distance away, occasionally seeing it stop to wait for you. Its head lightly tilted to seemingly hear for your footsteps before proceeding. Once you get to the mouth, it hisses high enough and long through the hallways and you hear the piercing noises come right back, a noise you would hear more often coming in.  

‘Do not harm what I have brought back’. Says the Knight’s hiss.  

‘We shall not harm nor alert.’ Says the reply back from the hive.  

Normally reserved for the beasts they brought back from around the planet to indicate this creature was to stay alive. You wonder if there was other intelligent life on the planet that they were also trying to court. The planet was huge and vast, and your team’s main focus had been on the xenomorphs rather than branching out too far unless necessary. It could be possible there was other intelligent life that was hiding around and being attempted to be used as a breeder or mate.  

Once more you are taken to the room where it resided. It doesn’t move you this time, but it does lie on the mouth of the nest once more. Lying on its side, tail moved far behind it, resting its head on one of its skeletal arms. One of its  legs  rests behind the other, exposing the hardly noticeable slit between its legs.  

There were no outward appearance indicators of what genitalia a xenomorph had, only certain body language when courting. It wasn’t going into the nest or resting on all fours, this behavior it was currently exhibiting indicated external genitalia. Which meant your hunch was right about it wanting to lay its eggs in you.  

You show your interest by moving into the nest and the xenomorph reacts with an almost purring growl in its throat of approval. It doesn’t move at all, waiting for you to make your courting gesture.  

If you were a xenomorph, you’d show your interest by exposing yourself however you could. But you instead hiss again. ‘Want to, unsure still’ to allow it to realize you were interested but weren’t satisfied with the length of courting. Once more it trills, rolling onto its abdomen to no longer expose itself and offering its head lowered to you to instead bump your helmet affectionately again. Indicating its patience but determination.  

This is the game you play for an entire month of letting the hive become so used to your presence that pheromones were no longer needed on your suit. This xenomorph waits for you outside your ship every day, waiting to court you in traditional fashions. Furs from skinned beasts are left outside your ship in a pile, different meats placed carefully and frozen nearby, all organs carefully chosen.  

Yet, interesting new additions to the courtship occur. Foliage. Of flowers that you had in your own room. It must have found the same flowers you had, knowing that these clung to your scent so you must have liked them, and left them lovingly atop a pile of furs.  

Xenomorphs were one of the most intelligent life forms out there, and how they learned to adapt to overcome certain obstacles- such as courting a different species- was always so shocking to your team.  

It also started to understand what you were saying, it felt like. Or perhaps it was only understanding the tone at which you said things, you were unsure still. Lillian was trying to decipher that over the details she could see from the camera in your suit.  

Mavrick had cracked a joke that if it was horny enough, maybe it was just desperate to find out if you were saying ‘yes’ yet. To which Frankie had given him a look that resulted in him pouting. For reasons you can only assume meant that they were telling him ‘no head later’.  

The gifts you received over the course of its courtship were: Varied and healthy organs from beasts, flowers- which you had experimented with and got new flowers for your room and it brought you the same flowers you had each time, furs that were carefully skinned and cleaned, and curiously shiny objects. This could be from rocks to gems to things that looked like amber. It was a fascinating development, and well, you were rather smitten with the Knight yourself.  

You’d gotten closer to the point not only could you enter the hive without pheromones, you could also take off your helmet once in its nest. The first time you had done it your heart had been racing out of your chest when it had gently trilled at you. It had rested your foreheads together, obviously taking note that you were warm and no longer encased in a bubble. Its long fingers had gently caressed your face, seeming to outline you as best as it could. It didn’t seem upset by what it found either.  

Now, you’ve exited the ship. Fully suited up and already seeing the Knight waiting for you patiently. It makes that same trill it always does, crawling on all fours towards you before standing to its impressive height. It hunches over more towards your much smaller height, cocking its head when it gently presses its head to yours. You laugh softly when it snorts against your helmet, clearly frustrated you have it on.  

“C’mon, big guy, it’s too cold!” You try to explain. It pauses to take in your voice, mimicking the same tone you say ‘cold’ in with a low grunt. You roll your eyes, hooking your fingers under your helmet as it makes a low hiss with the movement. The xenomorph trills, already ducking its head to help nudge it back and waiting impatiently. You can’t help but smile as its head tilts until you press your warm lips to the smooth front of its head. Immediately it trills, satisfied with getting what it wanted and turning back towards its hive to begin guiding you in.  

You have a bag with you today full of little things like lubricant and a few toys. Foreplay wasn’t really in the books for xenomorphs and you’d spent the better part of this morning preparing for this already.  

You’d been filled with anticipation all week for this, showing your interest throughout the week to the Knight who had clearly been eager at you wanting to move forward. You spent this morning edging yourself, fitting larger and larger toys in you with trembles of your thighs and frustration when you never let yourself cum. Xenomorphs were very kind about making sure each got their own. It was being shown in recent of your studies that a lot of them had sex just for the pleasure of it, too.  

You can only hope the same hospitality is spared to you.  

You know that it can smell your arousal. They had great senses of smell, and the one who saw you as a mate should have known your scent inside and out by now. You’d think xenomorphs weren’t the cuddling or kissing type, but turns out at least this one appreciated them. You think you’d never seen an alien more at ease than when you were showing it how to hold you, hitching your own leg over its waist and hearing it make such happy sounds in its throat.  

Spooning an alien. Who’d have thought?  

Now, as you’re escorted into the hive and into its nest, the courtship begins properly. Once again it lies on the edge of the crater of its nest, one leg behind the other, head resting on its arm and exposing its slit that you can already see leaking this translucent black fluid. Oh, it definitely smelled you. That only makes a shudder wrack through you at the very thought of its patience and desperation.  

You very slowly remove your helmet and set it to the side, stepping into the nest as your fingers find the zipper of your suit. You quietly apologize to Lillian in your head when you shut off the camera along the way, no way did you want them to see this. You’d try and write a detailed report just for her once you got past the embarrassment.  

The suit slides off your shoulders and you set it with your helmet. Patient as ever, the Knight only trills at you as it always does, but you notice its head lift ever so slightly to scent the air. You even get the pleasure of watching the head of its ovipositor slip out of its slit, seeing how it was already drooling with lubrication and desire. Your mouth waters, tempted to show it that there was more warmth to you than just your cunt, but you decide that was for another time.  

 Preferably when it had no eggs that could potentially be slid down your throat.  

Under your suit you wore a tight black tanktop and gray sweatpants, super simple and warm. Your scent must be louder when you remove your suit in full because the sound that the Knight makes sounds like a growl. You gently press your warm hand to the smoothness of its head, soothing it softly. “Shhh. Wait, be patient.” Murmured from your lips, and once more you’re not sure if it understands or just responds to your tone, but it huffs through its nostrils and lies its head back.  

You work out of your top, nipples already tightening with the chilled air. Your fingers run over your soft abdomen, something that always made you smile at your own squishiness. The Knight seemed to like it too, if it constantly trying to press its head against your softness was any indication. Your thumbs hitch in your waistband, sliding them down your rounded thighs with your underwear following with a sliver of slick sticking to it. It makes your face flush at realizing how wet you were.  

You shouldn’t tease, you know you shouldn’t. But you can’t help but take your underwear and hold it in front of its face. Watching its head follow the scent and a low, hungering hiss sliding from its teeth as its hands snatch the fabric from you. It presses the article to its face to inhale deeply, releasing a low growling exhale as its ovipositor slides fully out of its slit.  

Their cocks were always beautiful to you. It was especially thick at the base and coming up almost like a rounded knot that’s to keep them intact to their partner to not lose any eggs, coming all the way up to a tapered head. Ribbed patterns line beneath the head down to the base, where you know it can expand for the eggs to be lain with ease. The slit on the head is wide for the same reasons, leaking this translucent black fluid like it is now in preparation for you. The knot looked as thick as your wrist, doable but definitely going to be a strain, its length looking about seven or eight inches which made you tremble already.  

How...how deep could it lay its eggs in a human? Internal organed xenomorphs had no cervix, no hinderance to this sort of thing. Your breath catches at the anticipation of the very thought it could fit deeper into you. You knew its lubrication also doubled as a muscle relaxer, helping ease their longer and thicker cocks deep within their mates. Would it be enough to ease you to take their eggs into your womb?  

A low hiss reaches your ears and your eyes quickly dart to its face rather than its cock you were eyeing shamelessly. Seems your underwear isn’t doing it anymore. It slowly rises, waiting for you to reject, but you lie back in the soft furs instead, spreading open your legs with a small tremor when you part them.  

Its much larger body pulls itself on top of yours, its smooth head starting at your knees and lifting until it can find your cunt.  Its  cold breath exhales across your flushed and wet flesh, making your hips come up without thinking and pressing to its mouth.  

You can see drool coming down its chin, lifting its head with great resistance to nose at your soft abdomen like it loved so much. It buries its face there, scenting you before its head comes up with almost nuzzle-like gestures at your breasts. It seemed to like the softness you had and you can't help the soft laugh you emit. It felt so...normal to be nuzzled up on.  

You’re suddenly gripped then with a yelp from your lips. Rolled onto your abdomen and your hips being pulled up by bony, long fingers. You’re glad you prepped with toys earlier, feeling the tapered head slide against your lower lips and slipping across your clit in a missed thrust.  

A swear falls from your lips, reaching under you with shaky fingers until you wrap your fingers around its cock. The reaction is instant, a trill falling from its throat and attempting to fuck against your palm. “Wait,  you  big doofus-” You grumble mostly to yourself, but the Knight mimics your tone back how you say ‘wait’, its hips pausing as if confused. Questioning you.  

It gives you time to draw your hips up into its grip, sliding its cock down against you until it catches on your hole. The thrust it gives immediately is sloppy and excited, entering you a few inches before it moves slower. You moan low in your throat, burying your face in your crossed arms under your head as you lean back down, your entire body shaking.  

Its cock wasn’t fleshly like a human’s, almost like a harder silicone feeling made to morph to the shape of your body. It felt cold in comparison to your body, and you can only imagine how hot you feel to it.  

There’s a slow press into you now, its claws digging into your hips and definitely making you bleed. You don’t mind the sharp pain. Though, you do smile when you feel it press at the back of your neck with its cold face. Sweet thing wanting your attention. You lift yourself up onto your hands instead, bowing your back as you reach up and behind you to cup under its jaw to draw its head over your shoulder. The hiss you hear by your face is low and wanting when you clench your inner walls around it, sighing out yourself. “Good. There you go, baby, nice and slow.”   

You’re not sure if you’re speaking to fill the silence or because it seems fond of your voice anymore. Regardless, it works in your favor when you hear a soft trill, its hips moving just as slow in little humps to enter you fully. The knot rests outside you for now, pressing to the rim of your hole but not entering just yet.  

Your head drops and your shoulders heave. You felt so full, something exhilarating about this whole thing. Your thoughts are soon put on pause when you feel its hands press around your abdomen with a tug. You follow the motion, sitting up on your knees and feeling it splay its own long legs out to follow your lower body to accommodate size difference. You’re held back against it, your back to its chest as its arms encircle you like it loved to do. Your hand remains on its jaw, stroking with your thumb in one of the crevices there.  

A cooing noise falls from it and you mimic the sound, resting your cheek against its head as its hips start to hump up into you. You don’t feel any pain, its own lubrication working quick with your own. All you feel is wet and heat pooling in your lower abdomen with each desperate hump up into you. Soft sighs fall from your lips, way different from the growling and hissing you hear nearby your ear with its drool dripping onto the furs below you and onto your shoulder.  

Your free hand reaches down, sliding down past its hand and down to your clit to rub it in circles in sync with its thrusts. It starts to get a bit harder now that you’re squeezing down on it, a moan falling from your lips and your head falling back to its shoulder. You’re aware you’re baring your throat, and it seems the Knight does as well when fingers come up to circle your neck. They don’t squeeze, holding you there with its other hand digging its nails into your hip as its hips slam against you harder.  

Possessive.  

“Fuck-” You hiss out, your body already as your first orgasm hits you. Your fingers circle your clit harder until it’s too much, drawing your hand away to reach behind yourself to grab at the xenomorph’s hip to encourage it to be rougher.   

You don’t get the brutal breeding you expect and desire. Instead, it stops. Slamming deep into you and forcing its knot into you. No pain, but a deep pressure widening you out making a cry fall from your lips, arching your back only to get yanked right back with a low, rumbling growl from its chest. Possessive and quiet.  

You weren’t going anywhere.  

You hold still like forced to, its low snarls settling and its hand on your hip leaving. Its head bows to look down your body as its fingers find your clit to mimic what you had been doing to yourself. God, you always forgot how  intelligent  they were.  

“Ss--shit-” You shudder, your head falling back against its shoulder as soft cries leave you, pushing past your harsh panting. It croons softly in its throat, turning its head to gently bonk your cheek with its head until you turn your head to press soft kisses across the hard carapace. Up until you’re gasping, your abdomen starting to get taut.  

“Oh God, yes, yes, yes like that,  just like that,” You’re whimpering out when it applies more pressure, your knees locking as another orgasm rips through you with ease. You scramble with the  intensity , your free hand gripping its wrist when its fingers keep moving. A sharp whimper leaves you, but it seems to decipher it’s not from pain because the hand on your throat tightens briefly. Quietly telling you not to move as your cunt squeezes around its cock and knot, contracting with every flick of its fingers like it had seen you doing.  

Oh, it liked that your body tightened around it. Filthy little thing was doing it on purpose.  

“Ah, ah, ah-” Soft moaning whines fall from your lips again, shamefully even more turned on by the threat of its claws on your neck. You press your body back against its hard one, only giving more of an opening to your body that it takes with pleasure. Experimenting with circling your clit and the pressure you had put until you’re crying out and straining against the hand on your throat as you cum a third time in record succession.  

Its hand only moves from your clit so it can grab your hip to hold you flush back against it. It can’t move much in you, not with its knot filling you and holding you together, but that doesn’t seem to stop it from humping against your frantically. You’re so out of it, drooling and your eyes fluttering that you hardly feel when the base of its ovipositor begins to fill out a little bigger than its knot.  

You get your answer from earlier on if you would be relaxed enough, because you feel an odd stretch in your lower abdomen. Not painful, just a little odd. You know from experience that their eggs are just about the size of your fist and they could lay up to four. But this xenomorph was bigger and a higher rank. Which could mean that it would have only one or two eggs. You thank your luck on that one, unsure of how many your body could hold.  

“Oh-” You gasp out when you feel it settle into you fully. It’s got a weight to it, felt more with how the xenomorph tries to huddle against your body closer. One of its hands sliding up from your hip to rest on your lower abdomen where it presses lightly over where the pressure rested. You whimper as you’re guided back onto all fours, bracing yourself on your arms and letting your chest rest on your crossed arms again.  

The second egg you can feel when you close your eyes. Again, no pain, just a sliding, thicker pressure up your inner walls until that pressure is thicker in your lower abdomen. There are teeth hovering above the crook of your neck that makes you stiffen, but you’re so out of it you tilt your head and plead with it to bite you. You don’t get that pain, only its face pressing against your neck like it so desperately wanted to but knew it was a bad idea.  

There are a few more violent grinds against your ass before you hear a snarl ripping out of it, going into a high hiss as it cums inside you. Its cum was thick for reasons such as this, made to be thick enough it could help the eggs stick in you and keep you numbed up. You can feel each harsh pulse of its cock as thick ribbons of cum spill into you, spilling out past its knot and onto the furs underneath you and on your inner thighs.  

There’s a moment where you two rest like that. You, overstimulated and practically fuck drunk right now, comfortable with your hips still held high in the air. The Knight, with its arms encircling your waist and applying its weight on your back to relax with lazy rolls of its hips as its orgasm still trails out of it.   

After a few minutes, it slides out of you nice and slow with only some thick cum drooling out of you. You had planned to maybe leave the hive, go and lie down on a table and have Lillian examine you, but you can’t find the strength in your shaking legs. And with the way  it's  now guiding you to lie spooned against its chest all tucked up, you’re going to assume you’re not allowed to leave yet anyway.  

It presses against the top of your head with its face, hands resting protectively over your lower abdomen where you can feel your abdomen bulging out slightly. You whine softly in your throat, grumbling about the cold which gathers its attention to briefly let go of you and pulling three furs atop your body. Right before it goes back to holding you with a satisfied, low trill.  

Guess that answered your question on if it was starting to understand you too, huh?  

You’ll tell Lillian all about it, you think as your eyelids grow heavier and heavier.   

Maybe your alien children can learn to understand English too, are your last thoughts with a smile on your face as you slip into a warmed sleep. Knowing you are safe with the extraterrestrial predator that knocked you up’s embrace.   

[autisticlenaluthor]

okie new prompt in case you’re still taking them: cuddles cuddles cuddles

this is actually a scene from library au that meant to be included a few chapters back but i ended up forgetting about. i love it though and it is literally 100% cuddles

---

Lena frowned; rested her head below Kara’s chin. As her eyes shut, tears began to overflow once more. The heaviness in her chest was too overbearing. So oppressive that even after weeks of trudging through, it was hard to remember there was still an end in sight.

Over the past few days, so much of her being had been drained that now, the mere task of keeping herself conscious had become almost intolerable. So Lena just sat there, silent and still as Kara held her, and absorbed the feeling over her forbearing touch.

“Okay?” Kara signed against Lena’s arm, doing her best to check-in without having Lena open her eyes.

They’d been sitting together for some time now, talking and muddling through. It was the first time all week she’d mentioned what happened at the manor, the first time she’d allow herself to acknowledge her birth mother in front of Kara. 

“Lena?” This time Kara didn’t sign, just spoke. 

But Lena picked up on the vibrations. She hummed in response and nodded, holding her own hand up to Kara’s chest and resting it there so she could talk when she was ready.

She hadn’t signed much so far, but Kara never pushed Lena to explain. She’d let Lena stay with her in silence for as long as she needed, content with just the notion of being together. For that, Lena could already feel a piece of the weight lifted off her shoulders.

Every minute since the discovery at the manor, Lena had spent with Lex and Lillian sitting on her shoulders. She’d gone through the box again, this time more thoroughly so she’d be able to look at everything in one sitting. Inside, Lena had found VHS tapes she couldn’t yet bring herself to watch, items of clothing she’d worn as a toddler, and information on the savings account her mom had set up with a small college fund. A week had passed since the initial incident, but still, Lena was stuck in that hole, desperately trying to claw her way out.

“I’m so sorry about all this, honey,” Kara whispered.

She stroked Lena’s wispy curls, drawing in a long, steady breath as she pressed an ephemeral kiss to her hairline. Lena managed the slightest smile at the touch. She moved her hand across Kara’s chest, stopping once she could feel the steady rhythm of Kara’s heart against her palm. It reminded her of a drum, pounding out a steady rhythm just for her.

“I wish you didn’t have to deal with this. I wish I...” Kara sighed, traced the pink patches beneath Lena’s eyes, and brushed away her tears. “I don’t know…”

Lena nodded in acknowledgment. She almost didn’t mind not knowing what Kara was saying. She knew that she was speaking, that she was there, and that in itself was enough.

Lena was sure if the world allowed her, she’d lie there with Kara forever. All she wanted was that momentary calmness she got when they were together, that shred of tranquility powerful enough that for just a second, Lena could forget about the world above and simply exist.

It was everything she could’ve asked for. To exist with Kara and not have to keep forcing herself through the trenches. To stop having to figure out what was real and what wasn’t, to stop being so weak in the knees that she couldn’t help but blame herself every time something went wrong.

Balling her hand into a fist, Lena made a circular motion against Kara’s chest. She did it over and over again, repeating the word with the hope that maybe if she did it enough, it would finally mean something. 

It didn’t take long before Kara tapped her shoulder. She lifted Lena’s chin with her finger, smiling sadly when she saw the tears that stained her face. 

“Why?” She signed. She only used one hand. The other cupped Lena’s cheek in her palm. “Why are you sorry?” 

Lena sniffed and shrugged. A fresh tear rolled out, her face crumbling once more. 

“Because I’m a mess… making you hold me like—”

“—Like you deserve to be held.” 

Kara took Lena’s hand in hers, setting it on her lap before she could argue. 

“Because you do,” she signed. “Just like you deserve to be loved, and taken care of and—”

Lena shook her head. 

“You do,” Kara signed, offering the most gentle smile. “You can argue all you want but I know I’m right. And I know you’re stubborn, but I think you underestimate how persistent I am, Lena.” 

Lena hesitated, carefully considering Kara’s words. She knew she could persist. Maybe part of her still wanted to. But even so, she didn’t have to. Didn’t want to.  

Growing up, everyone had always told her the same thing. Lena wasn’t good enough, wasn’t smart enough, or strong enough. She deserved to be punished and berated and humiliated and put in her place so she wouldn’t act so-- so unbearably Lena.

She’d gotten it her entire life. From every single person who crossed her path-- they always found a way to critique her. 

But now, Kara was saying exactly the opposite. Her words dripped with care, hands warm with merciful touch that Lena could bask in forever. She couldn’t fathom why, but Kara truly seemed to believe every good thing she said. And maybe, on some level, if Lena could believe all those insults that had been forced down her throat for decades on end, she could at least try to believe Kara, too.

So instead of fighting, Lena allowed her head to fall back against Kara’s chest as she reclaimed the spot where she now knew she was safest. 

“I’m right here,” Kara whispered and welcomed Lena into her embrace once more. Lena wrapped her arms around Kara’s neck, burying her face in the crook by her jaw. She repeated Kara’s words in her head as she cried, willing herself with all her might to let them exist without protest. 

“Hey, I learned some new signs, can I show you?” Kara asked when she felt Lena tense back up against her.

Lena couldn’t see Kara’s face, but from the phrase alone, she could imagine the nervous smile she must’ve worn, the hope in her expression that Lena would say yes. So she curled even closer into Kara’s chest, a whimper escaping her lips as she nodded and lifted her hand. 

“Yes, of course,” Lena signed. She let Kara adjust her so she was seated upright on her thighs. This way, Lena would see what she was signing without her movement becoming restricted, but could still lay sideways with her head on Kara’s shoulder. 

“This one’s my favorite, I like doing it for fun,” Kara said. She bent her arm at the elbow, made a light fist with her hand, and extended her index finger. She moved it forward in a hopping motion, repeating the gesture a few times just for extra emphasis. 

“Dinosaur,” Lena signed back. She could feel Kara laughing, the gentle vibrations enough to bring a smile to her lips.

“It looks like a real dinosaur,” Kara commented. She made the sign with her left hand and wiggled her index finger. “That part’s the head.” 

Lena nodded and chuckled tearfully, repeating the motion and moving her hand towards Kara’s. She touched her index finger— or neck of the imaginary dinosaur, to Kara’s, laughing quietly to herself at the gesture. 

“My dinosaur gives yours a kiss,” she signed upon noticing Kara’s confused expression. 

“Oh.” Kara smiled and brushed her finger against Lena’s once more. 

“What’s your favorite sign?” She asked. 

Lena shrugged. “Hug?”

Kara wasn’t sure if Lena was using that as an example, or if she was asking for one. But she decided to go with the latter and wrap Lena up in her arms. Lena accepted the contact and draped her arms around Kara’s neck, burrowing her face in the small of her neck. 

It didn’t take long for her to snuggle even closer, to hold Kara as tightly as she could, and hope they could stay like this for just a little while longer.

When she finally pulled away she looked at Kara, eyes glistening with tears as she smiled. 

“That wasn’t what you meant, was it?” Kara asked. 

Lena shrugged once more, this time, laughing when she saw how hard Kara was trying to work the whole thing out in her head. 

“You know, I’m starting to think you didn’t want to show me your favorite sign, you just wanted me to hug you.” 

“Really?” Lena quirked an eyebrow. “You think I’m just using you for cuddles?” 

Kara nodded and sighed dramatically. “It’s really unfortunate too; I thought we had something great here. But alas, all you really wanted was to be held in my strong, Kryptonian arms, and--” 

Lena pushed down Kara’s hands. She began to laugh even louder at the Totally Real look of offense that had crossed Kara’s face and shook her head. 

“Stop!” She signed, dragging out the word as she giggled. 

“Make me,” Kara teased.

“Okay.” 

Without giving it a second thought, Lena reached out and took hold of Kara’s face to pull her close. She couldn’t help but laugh again as she kissed her, giggles that still hadn’t subsided by the time she pulled away. 

“What?” Kara asked. “What’s so funny?” 

“Nothing, that’s just what the hearing people do in movies,” Lena explained. “It doesn’t really work if the words are coming from your hands, not your mouth.” 

“Yeah, I guess that’s true,” Kara signed with a chuckle. “But still, feel free to get me to stop talking like that, any time.” 

“Oh, I will.” 

Kara smiled as Lena leaned back against her. 

“Are you feeling any better?” 

Lena shook her head. “Not yet, no. But I think now, I’m starting to feel like this… whatever it is… like it won’t be with me forever.” 

Kara hummed, nodding. “Well, at least, that’s something.”

[ldss-interactive]

At Alter’s End: A CYOA Novel

Overview:

Trentworth, Maine. A town of ten thousand southeast of Ellsworth and North of Bayside. Its only bragging point since its conception in 1867 was being a shoreline city and cheaper than any of the other big tourist towns. Nothing ever happened here, besides the occasional drowning or fishing trip accident, until the killings started. They lasted five years in total and 48 people were lost to the killer’s sick desires. Robert Hall terrorized this small town, slipping under the radar by focusing on those considered “undesirable”; sex workers, orphans, drug addicts, and the like. Now ten years later, ten years after the killer has been put behind bars, murders have begun again. A copycat killer has come to Trentworth. And they seem to be targeting the ones left behind, still trying to pick up the shattered pieces of their lives…

You take the role of a highschool senior; your parents having died in a home fire shortly before the killer was put behind bars and now under the care of your workaholic aunt. Make allies of your classmates or attempt to go it alone, clear your parents’ name from their believed involvement with the killer or fight to put the past behind you, deal with the skeletons in your closet and mind or bury them deeper... Oh, and make sure your history project is turned in on time. With two young siblings depending on you and a whole host of problems a highschool student should never have to deal with, can you survive this nightmare made real?

Trigger Warnings: This game will go into very heavy topics including the following; murder, death, various mental health issues (such as PTSD, depression, and anxiety), abandonment, gambling, various types of drug addiction, self harm mentions (not happening to the MC or shown in graphic detail), suicide, sex work, child abuse (mental, emotional, and physical), and dangerous situations. This is a murder mystery/thriller, it is NOT intended for audiences below 18.

Hello! Thank you for showing interest in At Alter’s End. This is a Choose Your Own Adventure style novel in the Thriller and Murder Mystery genres. It would also fit nicely in the Drama genre as well, but Drama is not the focus. This will be a rather lengthy project, with fifteen chapters plus a prologue and epilogue planned.

You take on the role of a senior at Trentworth High. Join an after-school activity, take care of your younger siblings, prepare for finals, get a part time job, find a date to homecoming, and survive your worst nightmare come to life. The copycat killer is targeting the students of your school and no one is safe. With the police dragging their feet, no help coming any time soon from any higher up law enforcement, and the locals refusing to acknowledge the possibility of a copycat killer, it’s up to you and your classmates to find the person responsible...before it’s too late.

- You can play as female, male, nonbinary, or trans!

- You can be straight, gay, or bisexual!

- A highly customizable MC including hair color, eye color, skin color, hair length, height, and personality and interests!

- The ability to choose which mental illness the MC suffers from due to the trauma of their past from the following:

Anxiety, Depression, or PTSD.

- The MC is deaf in their right ear ear due to the way in which their parents died; this is not something that can be changed.

- Choose from 7 different official after-school activities! Trentworth Volunteers, Up and Coming Artists, National Debate Society, National Honors Society, Co-Ed Varsity Basketball, Creative Writing, and Trentworth Gardeners!

- Bond with your classmates, explore your town, and help raise your younger siblings!

- Rescue your parents’ bakery from corporate clutches or let it go!

- Find the killer, stop the murders, and put a stop to the rumors that have plagued your every step for 10 years!

Vanya: Oldest adoptive twin sibling to MC’s adoptive siblings, 6 years younger than MC. Strong-headed, intelligent, and always getting into trouble. She looks after her brother and MC in the ways she can.

Ajay: Youngest adoptive twin sibling to MC’s adoptive sibling, 6 years younger than MC. Nearly completely blind since birth, he enjoys painting and other artistic endeavors. Obedient yet opinionated.

Aunt Emma: The workaholic aunt that takes custody of MC and their younger siblings after the death of their parents. Well meaning but absent most of the time on business trips or at the office.

Kwan Hall: An adoptive relative to Robert Hall; aloof, intelligent, and completely ostracized by Trentworth as a whole. When the killings start again the town’s attention is immediately turned on Kwan. He’s the first to begin investigating the killings when the police prove their incompetence. He is of Korean descent, standing at 5’6” with dark hair and dark eyes. His most notable feature is the long scar that stretches from his forehead’s hairline, down his left temple, and ends just below his jawline and the constant disinterest on his face. He is asexual in that he doesn’t experience sexual attraction at all. He is also bisexual.

Alessia D’Agostina: Trentworth High’s school president. She’s clawed her way tooth and nail up to earn the respect of both the school faculty and her fellow classmates; she’s strong-willed, dependable, and always looks at things through a logical lens. When she sees her classmates dying, she takes it upon herself to try and stop this once and for all. With dark skin, deep brown eyes, long braided hair, and standing at 5’8” her confidence and sense of self always make sure she stands out from the crowd. Alessia is bisexual.

Georgiy Kuzmin: Twin brother to Anastasiya Kuzmin; he is, in the kindest way possible, not the brightest bulb in the box. Yet he always means well and is more than willing to offer a helping hand. As the co-captain of the basketball team, captain of the baseball team, and the star of the swim team, Georgiy is one of the most popular and well beloved students at Trentworth High. When he realizes his friends are in danger, he willingly throws himself into the investigation to do all he can to help. With fair skin, dirty blond hair, bubbly green eyes, and standing at 6’1” he cuts an approachable figure to anyone who knows him. Georgiy is gay.

Anastasiya Kuzmin: Twin sister to Georgiy Kuzmin: she and her brother are alike in so many ways apart from just appearance. Anastasiya, who goes by Ana more often than not, is head of the Co-Ed Varsity Basketball team, the Girls’ softball team, and the Tennis team. Just as popular and loved as her brother, Ana may not be the smartest but she makes up for it with passion and dedication. Like her brother, she has fairer skin, dirty blond hair, and bright green eyes. Also like her brother, she felt she couldn’t just sit around while her friends were put in danger and agreed to join the investigation. Ana is gay and demiromantic, meaning she only gains feelings for someone after having a strong relationship with them.

Lillian Triano: A quiet, withdrawn girl who mainly keeps to herself. Due to the fact that Trentworth High demands for every senior to be apart of an elective, she is mainly seen in afterschool reading club run by Ms. Habeeb. She’s MC’s closest friend, having been one of the only people who didn’t believe the rumors that MC’s parents were assisting Robert Hall in his murders. She has an olive complexion, brown eyes, a heavy dose of freckles, and stands at 5’1”. Lillian is gay.

Jasmine Abernathy: Jasmine is Trentworth High’s self proclaimed “Best news source!” After the school newspaper was disbanded, Jasmine took it upon herself to keep freedom of the press alive. She’s fierce in her pursuit of the truth and never one to back down from a fight, though her rash attitude can get her into some sticky situations on occasion. With vibrant red hair, dark brown eyes, and standing at 5’3” she puts the term “fire” in Fire Signs. (She’s an Aries in astrology!) When the copycat killings began, it was no surprise when she took the case head on. Jasmine is bisexual.

Asa San Nicholas: Asa is the oldest of a set of triplets; they’re the type to march to the beat of their own drum, often not listening to what anyone has to say about themselves or their interests. Asa is a firm believer in the paranormal and it isn’t uncommon to find them indulging in their interest in various ways. “The spirits are distrubed. These deaths aren’t meant to happen.” Asa’s reason for getting involved seems to tie directly back to their “connection” with the spirits of the town. Asa has black hair, most often tied in a ponytail, hazel eyes, and an olive skin tone. At 6’4” they tower over most everyone...something they seem to enjoy a great deal. Asa doesn’t see gender and is interested in people regardless of how they present.

Leo San Nicholas: The middle of the triplets. They are genderfluid, okay with any pronouns. Leo is, for lack of a better word, eccentric. A bit of an adrenaline junkie, you can often find them cliff diving or giving their siblings heart attacks by playing russian roulette with a chocolate gun. To them, it isn’t fun if there isn’t a little danger involved; naturally, an investigation into a serial killer scratches that itch quite nicely. Their black hair is clipped short, multiple piercings visible on each ear, and their heterochromatic hazel and green eyes are often stated to stare through a person. Although Leo is genderfluid, they are only interested in people who present as female.

The demo is upcoming! When it is available I will make a post announcing it! I will also update this post with the link! This game is written in choicescript; the demo will be published on Dashingdon and the final game will be published for free on itch.io. I am open for questions regarding this game/novel and once the demo is published I will also be publishing a link to my Ko-fi! Until then, please don’t hesitate to ask if you have any questions!

[lemonbeemon]

Dr Stone Quirk Headcanons: Manga Spoilers!

A bullet list of what I imagine the Dr Stone casts mha quirks would be and how they'd live in a Quirk Society. These are free to use and I'd love to read any published works that use them!

Senku:

This is a Quirk list but everyone's favorite leek boy is definitely Quirkless

Got into the UA support course on recommendations from American idol Lillian Wienberg and part-time Hero Xeno Wingfield

It's likely only school staff are aware of his Quirkless-ness(?). Though some childhood friends probably know.

Thoroughly disappointed with the public's disinterest in space exploration, and still wants to be an astronaut someday.

Geeks out over the functionality of quirks, doesn't care how flashy a quirk is it just has to be functional

Taiju:

Quirk Name: "Powerhouse"

Composite type quirk

His quirk allows both his strength and stamina to increase when his heart rate is raised

Especially resistant to suprise attacks and deadly villains

In the hero course, wants to save everyone because his own parents died when he was young

His laid back personality and daily meditations keep his risk of heart failure low!

Yuzuriha:

Quirk Name: "Reassemble"

Emitter type Quirk

She can revert any nonliving object to its original components or repair broken objects

Her Quirk is versatile but limited, she can't bring back the dead or reduce people to micro organisms

Her Quirk can get in the way if it activates while she's crafting and set her back on a project

In the hero course but helps draft up ideas fo the support course when asked

Plans to run her own hero agency to fund a designer clothes line

Only interested in everyday wear, hence why she's not in the support course

Tsukasa:

Quirk Name: "Lion's Call"

Composite type Quirk

The activation of his Quirk temporarily increases his physical and mental prowess, combined with his inherent physical ability this makes him the ultimate warrior!

After joining the hero course he's determined to make a name for himself and (more importantly) make money

Chrome:

Quirk Name: "Detect"

Emitter type Quirk

He can detect and identify any mineral in a 200 meter range

His parents run a successful mining company and are supporting his chosen career path

In the support course with Senku, they met while sharing the lab after hours

The literal cliche of getting ramen after school

Asagiri Gen:

Yes I did just full name this man

Quirk Name: "Sleight of Hand"

Emitter type Quirk

He can convince anyone to obey simple commands or trust him by emitting a sweet smelling odor from his palms

Got into the UA hero course on recommendations but enjoys spending time in the support course labs

Everything he touches smells vaguely sweet, which can make sneaking around difficult

Ukyo:

Hero Name: "ソナー" or "Sonar" to his American fans

Quirk Name: "Sonar Hearing"

Hetromorphic type Quirk

A young hero known for his rational decision making and for how quickly he gained fame after his debut

Specializes in rescue, though he's no stranger to working alongside more seasoned heroes in battle when needed

Uses his Qurik to detect oncoming disasters and locate civilians/criminals

Uses a support item in the shape of a bow, along with many trick arrows (Green Arrow style)

His biggest expense is buying new hats, loses them constantly in the line of duty

Hyoga:

Qurik Name: "Vertigo"

Hetromorphic type Quirk

He activates his quirk by making and maintaining eye contact with his opponent

When combined with his favored support item, a kudayari, his quirk can be deadly

One of the hero courses top academic students

Refuses to be seen without his favourite black face mask, likely has scarring from a villain (or heroes) Quirk

This boy scream UA traitor, which could be fun

Homura:

Quirk Name: "Contortion"

Composite/Hetromorphic type Quirk

She can bend her body into any shape and fit into very small spaces

A soft spot for sweets, probably participates in White Day (Japanese Valentine's basically)

More comfortable and skilled with her Quirk than most in the hero course, her studies are lacking however

Very reserved and hopes to become Hyoga's sidekick one day

Kohaku:

I struggled with this one but just couldn't stand to leave her out

Quirk Name: "Dual Blades"

Composite type Quirk

She can unsheath short blades from her forearms

Her fighting style is unstructured and relentless, but will become refined over the course of her training

When she was born her parents assumed enhanced eyesight was her Quirk, until she nearly decapitated her father after manifesting her Quirk at age 4

A foreign exchange student from America, looks suspiciously like a certain Idol (I love the whole aunt/niece thing in modern aus okay)

Hopes to fund her sisters medical bills through working as a hero

Dr Xeno:

Quirk Name: "Laceration"

Hetromorphic type Quirk

He has long claws made out of a flexible, unknown alloy

Attended an American hero academy with his childhood friend Stanley

Has an utter lack of interest for heroics, only works as a hero if the situation is dire (Think Metal Knight from One Punch)

Struggles with hand cramps due to how heavy his claw like nails are

His Quirk gets in the way of typing and writing, so he records alot of his ideas for prosperity (Cue the villainous monologue)

Stanley Snyder:

Quirk Name: "Cheap Shot"

Emitter type Quirk

He can lock onto any target within his line of sight and fire a guaranteed shot, at the cost of violent recoil

His Quirk is often a once per day thing as overuse harms his shoulder and accompanying tendons

Attended an American hero academy with Xeno, but went into the military after graduating

Whyman:

I'm serious if you're an anime only stop reading now

Quirk Name: "Petrification"

Y'all I really don't think I need to elaborate, think of him as a One for All type villain (but cooler because he's sticking to a single theme, more isn't always better)