#The Crimson Cavalier

[sonofcoulson]

1914 Freedom's Five (Limited series)

Victorex Prime or the Scarlet Centurion (a Kang variant) is bored of life in the 40th century, having conquered everything there is to conquer. He has now resorted to conquering various eras of the past to alleviate the boredom. He has been trying to conquer earth during the chaos of WWI, identified as a good point in earth's history. Suitably advanced, but no notable superheroes. He has future tech and future fighters and they are mistaken for ‘martians’ by the public.

The Time Variance Authority aren't pruning regularly yet as this is still the time war, though He Who Remains (not named in the show) has worked out the technology. They have to stop the Scarlet Centurion to finally bring about the sacred timeline. They've stopped him twice and he escaped both times. They know if he continues to mess with this timeline then time eaters (demons from outside of time) will eventually consume it anyway. We will see this take effect in Legion later on.

Revonna Renslayer, a time judge, wants to use the new technology to prune the timeline, Kang variant and all. Mobius wants to try something different to see if the timeline can be saved. 

He tips off an obscure superhero team of the period and they take out a ‘martian’ tripod by themselves, proving to Renslayer that there is a possibility to save this timeline. 

Our heroes have to fight alongside the TVA against the invasion whilst simultaneously staving off being pruned by the same group.

The team are called ‘Freedom's Five’ (cringe) and consist of:

The Crimson Cavalier - Jean-Luc Batroc, an antecedent of Batroc the Leaper from CA:TWS. Equally adept at savate, swordsmanship and proto-parkour athleticism (studied under Georges Hérbert at Reims University in France). He was a criminal in peace time but fights for the freedom of France. (Played by David Belle).

Iron Fist - The Orson Randall version. Orson abandoned his post as protector of  the heavenly city of K'un Lun (luckily they replaced him before the city was attacked). Born in K'un Lun to an American father, he is headstrong and brash but also brave and protective of his comrades. He channels the mystical power from his fists into dual-wield pistols, extending the range and accuracy of his power as well as being an expert martial artist. He replaced the Silver Squire in the Squad. (Played by Brandon Lee).

Phantom Eagle - Karl Kaufmann. American born German who fights for the allies. The aceiest of flying aces and skilled at hand to hand combat too. (Played by Dolph Lundgren)

Sir Steel - Ned Chapel, a Yorkshire blacksmith, worked on the Armatage Estate and was bequeathed the enchanted armour Sir Steel. He is a master swordsman and has near invulnerability from his enchanted armour. His sidekick the Silver Squire is currently injured and therefore absent from the team. (Played by Sean Bean)

Union Jack - A young Lord James Montgomery Falsworth. Studied at Reims with Jean-Luc. Equally adept at the proto-parkour style of athleticism. Dead shot with a pistol and skilled at hand to hand combat. Sometimes converses in French with Jean-Luc. (Played by JJ Feild. Though I'm tempted to replace him with an age appropriate Nigel Havers).

TVA characters:

Judge Revonna Renslayer

Agent Mobius M. Mobius

General Dox

Hunter B-15

Hunter C-20

Hunter X-5

Various hunters and agents, maybe some clerical workers back at the TVA.

Other characters:

Lady Falsworth, the fiancée of James who holds a secret (she is Inhuman).

John Falsworth, younger brother of Lord James. Irked at being second in line for the title.

Ursula Frankenstein, John's love interest, has an ulterior motive for being with John. She is close to making a breakthrough in reanimation and is willing to go to whoever will fund her, including Hydra and mysterious cults.

Scarlet Centurion's warriors

Also Military types of the era

In the end they succeed, with TVA having to wipe everyone's memories of future tech and time travel. The government, with limited information, pass it off as a massive German bombing raid.

The Freedom's Five know it wasn't that, but they don't know what it was.

Back at the TVA, Mobius is disappointed that they had to take their victory away from them. Renslayer reminds him that was the only thing that saved them from being pruned.

[hyakilove129]

Part 3 final

En español

Bueno al final beacon no le tiene miedo a absorbo pero no va a perdonar tan fácil todo lo que le a echo hasta cavalier sabe que no es lindo ver al peque beacon enojado

Lo que le espera absorbo lad

in English

Well in the end beacon is not afraid of absorbing but he will not forgive so easily everything that he has done to him even cavalier knows that it is not nice to see the little beacon angry

What awaits I absorb lad

[splooosh]

“it was a glorious time”

Frank Robbins-Vince Colletta

[tzihomara]

MISSING YOU . . .₊˚⊹

— who knew your bossy house cat could be so . . . needy?

wc. 3.2k , mdni | fem!reader, unestablished relationship, jealous rough sèx, brèeding, degradation, crèampie, full form sukuna, mirror sèx, tigerhybrid!sukuna, possessiveness, intoxication, scenting, squırting, two còck’s, not proofread.

an;. i got so tired writing this… and i don’t even like it. was thinking & listening to this song while writing for him lolz

“quit your unnecessary movement, woman.”

he grumbled hoarsely, thick stripped tail swatting around and thumping the hardwood floors of your apartment. the two you sitting infront of your mirror.

even though ryomen sukuna’s period of reining the world of curses and jujutsu sorcerers, as king of curses, was indeed over, reduced to a mere house pet. he was still, just as commanding and prissy as ever.

all four of his muscular, and tatted arms wrapped around your smaller frame. demanding and beckoning insistently, silently with a grumpy pout, that you had sat in his lap. not knowing you’d soon feel his large and prickly tongue licking, or “grooming” you so he say’s, once you got a bit too comfortable in the warmth of his frame, licking over.. , and over again, relentlessly seeming. paws digging into you possessively.

you had went to a ‘work’ gettogether your boss had setup, have some drink’s, celebrate, and decompress after the hard work that you, and your coworkers had been through during these few specifically taxing weeks. leaving your particularly cavalier house cat, all alone.

when you had drunkenly unlocked your door, stumbling through it, you were immediately met with and faced a heavily displeased, and exasperated cat. predaceous, sharp, deep crimson irisis looking down at you. fumbling around, your inebriated mind had finally registered him infront of you in the dim lights, you had got home late, a bit— completely, caught up being “excessively friendly” as he’d word it, greeting your coworkers and superiors goodbye.

his fluffy ears were pressed flatly against his wispy hair, not ashamed or hesitant to put his discontent on display for you, tail whipping around irritably, nose scrunching up.

you reeked of a scent that wasn’t his, and he just had to fix it. immediately. resisting the urge to pounce and gnaw your neck to bits, like a chew toy. just for your insolence of returning to him in this,…. “state”.

which is how you ended up now, in his hold, his slob sticking and drying to your skin. “ryo ..’ i think ‘m pretty clean now.” you quietly sigh, tempted to accept your fate. and he scowl’s silently. “you still carry that stench on you. perhap’s, you need proper cleaning further.” he utter’s, while you groan in defeat quitely. “don’t.” he hissed. quipping back quickly, “you subjected yourself to this, woman. ridding my scent off of you for whatever absurd and preposterous reason. are you trying to suggest you’re available?” he glower’s. “course ‘mnot trying to. swear i didnt mean to ‘kuna..” you say, a little drunken slur to your word’s.

he hate’s it, the scent of alchol. but he’d rather have it that, than anyone else’s scent on you again. ever.

he huff’s, a bit more lenient, since you’re intoxicated. vulnerable in his eye’s. a foolish human— his. continuing to lick and brush his bristled tongue over you, leaning a little lower and licking at your neck, feeling your pulse point. cleansing you, yet also marking his scent back over you dually. the sensation makes you shudder. he’s given you “tongue bath’s” before, although something about this particularly, feels a little,.. different.

maybe it was your drunken mind seeking out things that weren’t there.

tongue steadily flicking over your neck, causing just a slight blush of pink on the sensitive and thin skin of your neck, from irritation. inhaling into it, taking in the concoction of both your own and his scent mixed. that was significantly better. letting out a rough purr in contentment. “are y’done yet?” you ask, not from impatience , or being bored, merely curious at how far he’d take this with his previous comment. “if it were my choice, which it should be. you’d get a much more thorough cleaning. be fortunate m’letting you off like this, brat.” he huffed into your neck. “but you’ve already been lickin me f’twenty mins, kuna.” you sigh. “privileged it wasn’t’ an hour.” he roll’s his eyes.

tail flickering slightly, curled and thick, brushing against you. four arms wrapped around you begrudgingly loosening, free from his grasp. resting his chin on the crown of your head, ears twitching. you can hear the heavy purrs reverberating in his broad chest, two of the four hands resting on your thigh’s.

this is how it should’ve been, if he knew you’d come home like this, he would’ve kept you in his grasp to prevent it. a cheek rubbing into your head, coming down to softly bite your cheek. a silent demand for your attention.

already becoming needy for you, though he’d never admit it aloud. letting his actions speak subtly. you hum, “mhm?…” replying to his demand, small hand of yours going up to caress his hair, inching towards the two fluffy ears that reside on his head. scratching behind the fluff. a rough mix of purrs and growl’s erupting from his chest, “brat. quit it.” he scowl’s, although does nothing to stop it. he could easily remove himself if he pleased, purr’s betraying his gruff tone and word’s.

you weren’t aware, completely oblivious. naive to how needy he was.

missing your presence more than he’d like to admit when you were gone. all. damn. day, he felt like he was going to drive himself crazy when he found himself in your bedroom. sniffing and inhaling the scent of you. clothes, blankets, panties—anything he could find. rutting and grinding his clothed cock’s into your pillows, mounting and biting down on the soft fluff, imagining it were you instead. hands pulling you tighter, flush to him. and you didn’t protest against it.

your own hands rubbing and softly scratching his ears in just the way he likes, unknowing the affect’s it has on him. you thought he excused himself purely out of embarrassment when you got done scratching him, never thinking of the fact that he get’s unbelievably hard after it. purrs getting heavier, just by a little bit, pressing his cheek into your own. ears twitching. you made him melt. body almost going slack for a minute. letting out just the faintest pant. he felt himself getting worked up already. silence being interrupted by the soft tussling of you adjusting your position, the floor can only be comfortable for so long.

taking notice of your discomfort, two large hands promptly settling you on his lap further more. “better?” he mumbled, cheek still in contact with your own, and you nodded. “mhm, ts’better,” adjusting yourself more, slightly grinding down into his lap to get comfortable. “should prob get off the floor, since you’re finished.”, he kissed his teeth. “y’er own fault for not being able to withstand it. no need to move.” he grumble’s, though he merely didn’t want you to move from his lap, even for a split second. “too feeble.” he sighs, voice a little hoarse. getting a little mouthy. ears pressing to the back of his head. and you roll your eyes and pout. “apologies for not being soooo big, ‘tough n bad like you.”

and he growls.

quietly tsking at your words, lowering his head and delivering a faint bite to side of your neck. fangs scratching the skin. you couldn’t bring yourself to scold your kitty, especially after leaving him oh, so lonely today. your pout deepened, pinching his cheek in response. “hmph.. careful.” you warned softly. his grip tightened on you. his own inner turmoil deepened, the need for you. to suffocate you against the floor, act on his need to mark you, inside and out. it was tempting. licking and nibbling at your neck. “pitiful.” he scoff’s, a larger hand subtly rubbing down into your inner thigh. squeezing the plump flat. tail swishing more feistily.

sukuna wasn’t a gentle nor slow man, it was near impossible for him. but he could try, and he was now. patience slowly wearing thin.

he deepened his bite, provoking a little whine from you. he was fortunate you couldn’t see his expression, the way his eyes nearly rolled back at just that. feeling like he’s on the verge of driving himself into a rut. pressing you further down into his lap, semi hard cock’s already starting to make its appearance with a print. you could feel his damp and hot breath on the back of your neck, and you couldn’t deny the way it made you throb in your inebriated state. already feeling hot and flushed from the alcohol, his clingyness wasn’t lessening the sensation’s you felt. “you’re g’na leave a mark. .” you murmured out. sneering at your word’s. “maybe it’ll get it into y’er head to stop ‘flaunting’ around in other people’s scent. ‘pissin me off.” he jibed, licking a fat wet strip up your neck, to behind your ear. beginning to chew on your bottom lip, eyes narrowing.

you could feel that familiar heat pooling in your stomach already, damp cunt clenching around nothing, to your disappointment.

every single time, he could smell the arousal immediately. having such a sensitive and potent sense of smell.

he snickered. clothed arousal fully hard now, you could feel it. he didn’t even bother to hide it now, warmth pressing against your ass. you couldn’t help but feel your face turn a singular shade deeper. breath catching in your throat, silently gulping and tilting your head back to rest on his shoulder. it was his own sign of permission, a silent granting of consent. you knew you couldn’t hide it and he knew it aswell. if not better than you. panting and breathing heavily into your neck. it got you soaked.

hip’s seeking out friction, clothed cock’s grinding into your ass unabashedly, heaving into your ear with a handsome cackle that’s his laugh. “shiit, woman.” he cursed under his breath, and you let out a little whimper. tiny “o-oh” escaping your lip’s. your already simmering body reacting deliciously to his neediness. flushed cunt drenching your panties already. the two hand’s that were resting comfortably on your thighs traveling up to your hip’s, now at the seam’s of your pants, prying and tugging them down, down, down. balled up and wrinkled at your ankle’s, soon completely off. one hand of the four slipping into your panties, a rough padded finger collecting your slick and rubbing your slit. feeling — her, pulse around them. “s’fuckin needy. greedy girl.” he groaned into your ear. ear’s twitching sensitively.

you haven’t ever gotten this wet, and so quickly. beginning to grind back on his fingers, you could see it. the two of you in this position through the mirror infront of you both, it made your breath hitch. two thick lengthy finger’s suddenly sinking into your cunt, squelching and sucking them in. just two fingers of his make you feel so damn full already, thrusting gently while another finger rubs at your clit, low attentive eye’s watching you through the mirror, heavy purrs against your back. rough fingers massaging just the perfect spots inside your velvety walls. “kuna..’” you mewled softly, and he tightens his hold on your thigh’s, spreading them further apart, tugging your panties aside to watch in the mirror. watching your cunt messily clench around him, your slick running down his hand. dripping on his clothed hard on. fabric damp with precum and your arousal.

breath slightly trembling in your ear, hips still needily pressing his aching cock’s into your ass. tail flickering and slithering to wrap around you leg, keeping it in place. “fuuuck.” he groaned, bordering on a moan. “clenchin’ around my fingers like some slut.” biting a little rougher into your neck. you try to turn your cheek—only to be snatched right back in place, rough padded fingers digging isn’t your cheeks and jaw. forcing you to look at the mess he’s making of you. a laugh melting into a moan. “y’like this, brat? watching y’erself’ drench all over my fingers?” “keep your eye’s on us.” he heave’s. fingers curling impeccably, in justtt- the right spot. feeling that coil in your tummy tighten implausibly tighter. schlick noises of his finger’s and your arousal resonant in the room.

your hip’s lazily grinding further onto his girthy digit’s, stuttering languidly over them eyeing yourself. it was so humiliating. his fingers acutely rubbing your soft spot. coil inside your tummy snapping, stomach flexing with frantic ragged breath’s, and a whine. dually creaming and squirting incessantly on his finger’s, hip’s trying to pull away in overstimulation. paded finger mercilessly, relentlessly rubbing continuously, vigorously pulling out choked mewl’s and whimpers out you. “k-kunaaaaa’ , w-wait stopsst-opp,” sob’s prettily spilling from you, palms grasping, fingers digging into his wide forearm in attempt to steady yourself. provoking a hiss from him.

you want to escape from this overbearing feeling, but relish in it too. you both know you don’t mean to try and run. and he purr’s with a grumble.

a hand jerking his short’s down, two lengthy cock’s slapping your puffy folds, slicked with your wetness and release, pretty cherry pink tip’s leaking bead’s of precum, dribbling down his cut length. the fact he had matching tatt’s there made you gush. lengthier cock head prodding, nudging at your fold’s and entrance, your drunken mind whirling from the booze and previous overstimulating high from a few seconds ago, two hand’s back grappling at your thighs, hoisting them up infront of the mirror. finding yourself in a headlock. he has you in full nelson, slowly leaning back into the couch. brows furrowed and tail swatting.

you feel his leaking tip continuously pressing, before sinking into you, eliciting a quiet mewl, chin resting on his forearm, purposely keep your heavy head up to watch him. secondary cock still grinding against the fat of your ass. you felt so suffocatingly full, with a stretched that burn so painfully fucking good. pretty glimmering tears welling in your eyes, you don’t know if it’s from the pain or pleasure, a concoction of both. snickering with a small tsk. “should’ve known , y’er sucha’ crybaby.”, his mean teasing making you grip him impossibly tighter. you loved it. “should i go slow f’ya? think you deserve it after comin home to smelling like that’ , brat?” he groaned into your ear, a rhetorical question. he wasn’t going to be nice, and you were somewhat hoping for that. feeling a little defiant. “shut the f-fuck up.’ fuck me already.” you blurted out. and his eye’s narrowed, temporarily stunned by your word’s, it made his cock twitch— both of them.

with a scoff followed by a grunt, hand’s immediately slamming your hips down with a force that might’ve made you regret being hasty if you weren’t just as needy as him. a slurred, much louder whine escaping at the show of force, suddenly feeling his pace pick up after it, not as harsh as before. tip messily kissing the entrance of your cervix, leaving every spot untouched in your wall’s, you could see it. the way his cock bulge’s in your tummy, roughly dragging your hip’s up and down on his length, yet hips still slamming into you. absolutely using you. and you were fucking loving it, shamelessly moaning and babbling incomprehensibly. “f-fuckfuckfuuuuck..rightthereeuuh” watching yourself get pounded into relentlessly, second cock drooling with loads of precum, slick against your ass. drool dribbling out the corner of your mouth, but throat going dry at the same time. a loud groan forged with a purr escaping his throat. “stupid’ fuckin slut. need to learn some damn manner’s.” tail swishing wildly, his size with your grip was driving him feral, you were squeezing him.

if only you could see his pupils expanding. it were as if he’d been given catnip, even so, you & your cunt is the better drug. “suckin’ me up so damn good. like this pussy is mine, shit-“ he growled with a pant. “m-mhm ts’yours kuna- all y-yours, uooh-“, he wasn’t quick to finish no matter what, but he could’ve came right then and there when you said that, a shudder rushing over his body, a palm smushing your face, gripping harshly to turn it, shifting his head to press a sloppy kiss to you. a distraction. feeling his length somehow grow harder than it already was, he was so deep. it hurt just a tad, but in the best way. you weren’t even sure you could moan into his mouth anymore from how good he was digging into you, stretching you impeccably. rubbing in spot’s you had yet to reach on your own, nobody could reach but him. not like he’d let a man get even close to you ever again after this accident. a hand of his spreading your thigh’s further, a predatory glint in them as he looked from the second eye above his cheekbone, watching your cunt take every single inch. tongue licking all around inside your mouth, coating himself in your taste. toe’s clenching, curling , as hard as you could, the pleasure was just so. fucking. much. tiny hand’s retuning to grasp as his forearm, digging your nail’s into him. leaving little crescent’s. your own mark’s. his pace not even faltering once. pulling back with an airy gasp, groaning in your ear. “i own you. own this pretty ‘lil cunt. gonna fuck you full of my cum, brat. ts’ what you want huh? workin me up with that filthy mouth. should put it ta’ work next.”, and you nod absentmindedly, the tear’s that were brimming your eye’s already cascading down your cheek’s. “uuuhuh, wan’ your cubs s-so bad kuna,” you whined through mewl’s and sob’s, close to your second orgasm, so damn close.

he was close already too, just by how obediently you were nodding along to him, like a mindless doll. and he landed the prettiest one. the two of you were just barely hanging on by a thread, his thrusts becoming more sloppy. languid. deep and harsh, feeling his tip nuzzling just a bit dipper into you, hitting your cervix making you yelp in pleasure and pain, your orgasm hitting you like a fucking truck, clenching down on him as that familiar creamy white ring form’s around his cock again, all in his view. feeling you grip like a damn vice was his breaking point, hips stuttering for the last time before a full blown moan escape’s him, hissing as his eye’s so subtly roll back. bottoming out and cumming fucking bucket’s in you, second cock messily spilling on the floor, feeling the hot spurt’s from his tip inside you, lazily, slowly, fucking you through your own and his release, ear’s flickering up, heavy purrs and pant’s in your ear’s and it felt like you weren’t even present on earth. your mind sent whirling at the sensation of him pulsing inside you. slowly pulling out, not flaccid in the slightest yet. a worn whimper slipping from you in disappointment, cunt gaping and clenching around nothing. palms rubbing the inside of your thigh’s, in a trance at the mess he’s made of you. heaving. purr’s and heavy breath’s filling the silence. tossing his head back with a groan. a temporary peace, resting your eye’s for a few minute’s. you felt so exhausted already, ready to call it quit’s in your intoxicated mind. but sukuna had other plan’s, making it noticeable when he slid his second, wider, more girthier cock, into you. stretching you once again. grip seemingly tighter on you. “don’t think i’m done with you. still have hour’s to make up to me, fuckin brat.” he groan’s.

and you certainly did make up for those hour’s you left your poor kitty all alone, needy and without your perfect pussy.

my masterlist for more .ᐟ

[rivalsispunk]

Driving Miss Crazy (Chapter 3 of ongoing series When We’re Alone)

Best friend’s dad!Declan O’Hara, boss!Declan O’Hara x AFAB reader

Series summary: Journalist Declan O’Hara is in need of a personal assistant as his Corinium career skyrockets, and his daughter Taggie has the perfect candidate: her best friend. What seemingly starts as a professional relationship soon snowballs into something both Declan and reader were never expecting and are no longer able to deny.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut, cursing, age gap romance (reader is a few years older than Taggie), mention of male appendages (IYKYK), mentions of male orgasm, pussy pronouns, Tony being a grot, more warnings added per chapter.

Word count: 5.5k !!!

Chapter summary: Working alongside you proves far more difficult for Declan than he anticipated and you're noticing that your handsome, moustached boss is getting a bit antsy.

A/N: This is a chonky chapter!! But hopefully it is well worth the wait. I am livingggggg for tortured Declan and him not being able to keep himself together. As usual, proofread but can't promise clean edits. Enjoy!

© rivalsispunk please do not steal, copy, or translate any of my work onto other platforms!

Chapter Three: Driving Miss Crazy

Your Vauxhall Cavalier’s steering wheel is slick with sweat. It’ll be a miracle if you don’t end up with blisters on your palms from how tight you’re gripping the leather as you make the short drive from your flat to Corinium for your first day as Declan’s assistant. You hadn’t laid eyes on him since you fled the hot tub several days ago, save for watching his show on Thursday evening, brittle embarrassment nestled in your bones after your late-night encounter. Though Taggie’s snoring subsided when you both returned to bed, you were kept awake for hours at the thought of another O’Hara. The finger of whiskey you’d downed buzzed through your veins. Still, Declan’s bourbon-brown eyes boring into yours over the glass seemed to have intoxicated you further to the point where you were unable to close your eyes without seeing his moustache quivering over a miniscule smile. 

Though you were up before the birds the following morning, Declan had already made for Corinium, his Mini Clubman Estate already gone from the drive. It was purposeful, his early leave. After you’d escaped back upstairs with his daughter the night before, he’d made his way to his office, polished off his bottle of whiskey and shamelessly fucked his hand to the image of your lithe legs stretched over the hot tub, and the echo of you promising him you could handle it. The moment he spilled himself over his fist was the moment the mortification consumed him. Mortified at himself for disrespecting his albeit fragmented marriage like that. For disrespecting you like that, and he couldn’t bear to run into you in The Priory’s kitchen the next day and pretend like he hadn’t done so. Luckily for him, you didn’t cross paths all weekend either, thanks to being off shopping for workwear with Taggie, just as he’d requested. Being privy to your usual everyday attire and how uncomfortable you seemed in Maud’s clothing was the only thing keeping Declan from pulling the plug on your hiring. He knew you’d opt for something no-fuss. Conservative, even. Something that would keep his regretful, wandering eye at bay. He just didn’t expect you to make conservative look so fucking sexy.

“Knock, knock,” you greet him, materialising in his office’s doorway. You’re dressed head-to-toe in black: black wide-leg trousers, matching blazer and black Rolling Stones concert T-shirt stamped with the band’s trademark logo. Your hair falls in loose waves, and you’ve accessorised with black pumps, and a megawatt smile lined with crimson red lipstick.

Declan’s breathing hitches. He never stood a bloody chance.

Despite the awkward note you ended your last encounter on, you bury the uneasy feeling as you step into your new boss’ quarters. “Is that mine?” You gesture to where Declan had Seb set up a desk for you in the far corner. He naively thought it would be more efficient to have you work from his office than out on the floor with the rest of the staff, but his cock throbbing against the inside of his zipper now said otherwise.

“Er, no,” Declan says, scrubbing at his freshly shaven jaw. “That’s just—it’s not… I was just trying something out. Redecorating, or something.”

He keeps bumbling excuses while he ushers you out the door. He doesn’t stop until he reaches a desk that clearly belongs to someone else, littered with spreadsheet papers stained with coffee cup rings.

“You can set up here. I’ll have a couple tasks for you soon. I just need to take care of a few things first,” Declan snipes, stalking back to his office before you can get a word in. You tail him, his pert arse in his slacks barely a blip on your radar.

“Are you alright?” you question, your mind straying to the hot tub.

“Yeah, fine. Just grand,” Declan feigns, refusing to meet your eye while he pretends to busy himself with tidying his desk.

“Can I get you anything?” 

A new assistant. “Just a coffee. Black, one sugar. Thanks.”

You can hear Tony Baddingham’s scaly laugh all the way down the hall as you return to Declan’s office. The Corinium director is sprawled out in his chair while his star talent leans against the window frame, cigarette hanging idly from his lips.

“Ah, hello again,” Tony croons your name and you recoil at the sound of it on his tongue. You can feel his eyes trained on your body as you cross the room and place Declan’s coffee beside him on the window sill. He doesn’t thank you, just grunts around his durry. It pisses you off. If he’s uncomfortable around you after what happened at The Priory, so be it. But you’re being professional. Would it kill him to do the same?

You turn your attention back to Tony. “Lord Baddingham. How are you?”

“Better now,” he confesses, rising from Declan’s seat. His stature is imposing as he moves around the desk towards you until you have to tip your head back to look up at him. “It’s good to see Declan made the right decision with his assistant. Though I have to admit, I was hoping you’d wear something a little more like what you had on the last time we met.” He edges closer to Declan, jabbing him in the ribs with his elbow like they’re sharing an inside joke. “A little less Boy George, if you know what I’m saying?” Tony chuckles like he’s just cracked the world’s most hilarious one liner. Your tongue burns to scold him. If it were a grimy git at the local pub who had tried that, you wouldn’t hesitate to tell him where to shove it. While Tony Baddingham was a grimy git and then some, he was also the one to sign off on your future paychecks. So, an obligatory smile will have to do.

Declan isn’t as forgiving. “It’s not a fucking fashion show, Tony,” he snaps.  “She’s here to do research, not walk a bloody runway.” 

“And I don’t disagree with you, Declan, but this is my station, she’s my staff and I’m telling her to wear something more appealing. Just like what you wore to your interview. Now, that,” he leers down at you, and you wonder if he can see the fury buzzing through you. “That was something.” 

“Alright, Tony, that’s enough.” Declan flicks his cigarette into the ashtray on his desk and steps between you and Baddingham. He keeps his eyes on you over Declan’s shoulder, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. 

Declan squares his shoulders, jutting his head toward the door — a silent instruction to his superior. “I’ll see to her, okay?”

As Tony moves out of your immediate vicinity, his gaze rolls down your entire frame before huffing a one syllable laugh. “I’m sure you will,” he tells Declan, then: “My office. Five minutes. Cameron has some evil genius plan for ratings.”

You spend the better part of the morning waiting, making yourself a coffee, then waiting again for Declan to reappear from Tony’s office. He’s yet to return by half-eleven, at which point you stalk back into his office to make yourself at least somewhat busy. You begin emptying his ashtray and clearing his desk of empty coffee cups (and the occasional whiskey glass) before making a start on organising the tree of papers scattered across the rich timber. Half word-processed, the majority strewn with Declan’s skittish handwriting. At the bottom of the mess is some semblance of a to-do list with bullet points in no rational order.

Research agriculture.

Follow up Rupert Campbell-Black wife.

Lunch. Sinister.

Details. Westland. Michael Heseltine.

You doubt Declan has time to even touch any of those tasks with him being MIA all morning, so you park yourself in his desk chair and get to work.

“If I didn’t love this bloody job so much, I’d have half the mind to quit.” The string of Irish twang startles you from your notepad, and Declan appears equally as surprised to see you perched in his place. With a furrow in his brow, he scans the room. “You cleaned up?” He can’t recall a time his office had been as tidy.

“Thought I’d better make myself busy,” you tell him, popping up from the leather seat with your notes. “I hope you don’t mind, but I made a few calls based on your to-do list. No answer from the former Mrs Campbell-Black but I might’ve got somewhere with the Westland research.” You tilt the yellow paper pad in Declan’s direction, thrusting it into his hands despite the scepticism that paints his face. You chew the inside of your cheek while he reviews your notes, only stopping when he looks at you blankly. You can’t tell whether he’s going to thank you for your patience or fire you for sifting through his things.

“You did this? Today?”

You nod.

“Christ almighty. What on earth have I done without you all this time?” 

You grin, warmth flooding through you with the inadvertent praise. “Suffered?” you jest.

“I’m afraid suffering is part and parcel of the job,” Declan counters, not mentioning how much suffering is ahead for him with you now a part of his team. “You should head home. It’s getting late.” He looks at the window, where the late winter sun has set.

“I was always told to never leave before your boss.” “Darlin’, if that was the case, you’d be here ‘til morning. So, go on,” he swats at your arm with the notepad. “Get home.”

Without another word, you gather up your things — not much, a water bottle and small assortment of pens scattered across Declan’s desk — and throw a small bye in your boss’ direction.

“Don’t worry about Tony,” Declan calls after you. “He was bang out of order.”

You swivel, lean up against the doorframe.“And if he barges in again demanding I wear something more likely to land me on the cover of Playboy?”

A glimmer of you in black garters and barely there lingerie snaps through Declan’s brain. “That’s not what he meant.”

“Isn’t it?” Your arms fold across you. You had a point, and Declan knew it. Tony would have every woman in this office under the age of forty strutting around in nothing but heels and a thong if he could. 

“I’ll deal with him,” the Irishman settles on. He’s rather you covered up for him than dressed down for someone else. “You have my word.”

You bid Declan goodnight with one final, tight-lipped smile, offering the same to Deirdre and Daisy on your way to the elevator.

Outside, the sky is littered with stars, though their brightness is dulled by the stadium-worthy fluorescent lights beaming down on the carpark. There are far fewer cars left in the lot than there were this morning, so you make a beeline across the concrete to where your plum-coloured Vauxhall is sat on the outskirts. You savour the tiny bit of warmth the cab has preserved over the day as you shove the key into the ignition and—

Nothing.

You turn the key over again and get nothing but a singular clank from somewhere under the hood in return.

You try three more times only to get the same result.

Shit. 

You scan the carpark for someone who might be able to help but at this time of night, the chances are slim. Sliding out from your seat, you round the front of your car and unclip the hood, though you have zero clue what exactly it is you’re looking at. You didn’t grow up with a father who’d taught you how to refill your oil or check for leaks. You don’t think you ever saw him with a tool in his hand once. Your parents always sent away for things to get fixed and now, you were cursing them for not imparting an integral practical life skill on you.

“I thought I told you to go home.”

“Jesus Christ!” Your hand flies to your heart as Declan falls into position next to you. “You really need to stop doing that.”

A chuckle wracks through him, his shoulder jostling up against yours. “Car troubles?”

“I think it’s carked it. The ignition won’t turn over.”

“Shove over.” He motions for you to step aside, handing you his briefcase as you comply. A few minutes pass as Declan jostles metal pipes and knocks his knuckles against others, black grease working its way onto his skin. Eventually he steps back and pushes the hood closed with a clatter.

“Yeah, she’s knackered,” he declares, wiping his hands on his trousers. “Grab your things. I’ll drive you home tonight.”

“I can’t believe I’m asking favours on my first day,” you mutter, thanking Declan for what feels like the tenth time in the few minutes you’ve been sitting in his Clubman.

“You’re not askin’. I’m offerin’,” he tells you without taking his eyes off the road. You study him as he drives, all stoic and permanently etched with determination. His knuckles are white as large hands grip the steering wheel, silver wedding band glinting under the streetlights. In the small confines of the car, Declan’s overwhelmed by the soft jasmine scent of your perfume. It reminds him of a breeze through a sunlit garden in summer — fresh, but warm. Inviting, even, making him want to pull over and nuzzle into the crook of your neck so he drowns in it. He clears his throat as the need sets in, filing through his thoughts for something to distract him.

“Your family visit you much?” is what he decides on when he realises he knows little to nothing about you.

“Not at all,” you tell him, a sad laugh tumbling out after your admission. “My father’s a lawyer and my mother’s a psychologist, so they don’t really get much time away. When they do, they’d rather jet off to Spain or Greece or somewhere equally as picturesque.”

“You’re joking.” Declan’s disbelief tugs at the corner of his mouth. “You, coming from the likes of Baddingham and Co?” He had a hard time placing you within the wealth of the city. You were just so humble. So grounded.

“Is it that hard to believe?”

“Yeah, kind of.” “Don’t hold it against me.”

Hold your parents against you? No. Though there were other things that could tempt Declan if he just let himself go.

“But you’re so…” He steals a peek at you, then back to the road, considering his words.

“Go on, I can take it,” you say, anticipating a verbal blow.

I bet you can, he shamelessly admits to himself. Then, out loud: “You’re just not an arsehole, that’s all. Rich folk are usually right pricks.”

You can attest to that. Your parents easily fall into that category. “That might just be the kindest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

“And you don’t have a boyfriend? No uppity intellectual waiting for ya back in the city?” Declan doesn’t know why he asks. You’ve not sent away for anybody, not that he would’ve noticed, but he was sure he’d have heard about a boyfriend in all the hours you spent at The Priory.

“Not anymore.” You say quietly, trilling over the dry skin peeling away at your thumb. Not anymore. Your admission shouldn’t send Declan’s pulse galloping like a racehorse. 

You continue to divulge about Samuel, who you’d met in your second year media law lecture at university.. “His ego didn’t allow for two smart people in the relationship. You know, he told me that my intelligence is what drew him to me in the first place, but turns out he couldn’t handle it in the long run. Everything became a competition and it rotted our relationship from the inside out.”

“Hope you sent him packing.”

You shake your head. “He cut me loose, can you believe it? Got the shits when I got the internship at The Times over him.” As you roll over the hill leading to the village, the Clubman splutters when Declan changes gear, masking the fucking idiot that falls from his lips. How could any man not want you? The notion was beyond him.

“I wouldn’t worry about it. Boys never know what they want,” Declan imparts.

A scoff scratches your throat. “What, and men do?”

You have Declan on that one. He glances at you in the passenger seat, then thinks of the years’ old snapshot of Maud that lives in his wallet.

No, no they don’t.

“I’m just up here on the left.” You gesture to the strip of shops on the left a few moments later. Declan pulls the Clubman to the curb and flicks the engine off. He arches over the steering wheel to get a look at your building through the windscreen, scepticism colouring his features. 

“You live in the butcher’s?”

“I live above the butcher’s.”

“Must smell like a slaughterhouse in there.” 

“Sometimes. It’s not all bad. The man who runs it, Mr Green, gives me a discount on meat. Chucks in a few extra sausages free of charge.”

“Free sausages, eh? Living the life.”

“Well, they’re Lincolnshire, so I’ll say.” That earns a chuckle from your boss, followed by a too right in agreement. You click off your seatbelt and gather your bag in your lap. “Well, thanks again. I appreciate it, Declan.”

“No bother. I’ll swing past in the morning and pick you up.”

You rear back at his offer. “You don’t have to do that. I can get a taxi. Catch the bus.”

“The buses around here are as late as a pregnant woman’s period. Taxi will cost you a small fortune. I’ll pick you up.” There’s no room for discussion or pushback as the Clubman roars back to life. “Seven forty-five, alright?”

Declan wasn’t expecting to have a heart attack before eight AM the following morning, nor was he expecting you to heed Tony’s suggestion, when you step out from your flat in a skirt that cuts mid-thigh, sheer tights and a skin-tight red turtleneck sweater, paired with knee-high black boots. You won’t lie: complying with Tony’s request made your skin itch, but you had a job to do, and you couldn’t do it with Tony constantly breathing down your neck. Declan’s eyes trail over the sheen of your thighs when you slide into the Mini, mouth going dry at the view. He’s about to chide you, make a comment about you already bowing down to the big boss. Then you bring up Michael Heseltine and the Westland notes again, offering your thoughts, and he’s taken again by how fucking clever you are. He can practically hear the cogs in your brain working as he drives you both to Corinium. You sing along to Paul Simon and Heart between ideas, your manicured nails thrumming on your knee in time to the music. 

Declan tells you he’s organised for your car to be towed and fixed up by a local mechanic — a friend who owes me a favour, he says when you protest — and that the work will take a couple of weeks. And so, Tuesday marks the first time in a long time that Declan consistently leaves the office at a reasonable hour, and driving you quickly becomes his favourite part of his days. The pair of you chat about everything under the sun, from your upbringings — you in upper class London and he in backwoods Ireland — to your favourite musicians — George Michael for you, Nat King Cole for him. You don’t ask about Maud and Declan makes no mention of her either, diverting the conversation when anything rears too close to their relationship. He’d much rather talk about his kids; complimenting Taggie’s cooking and homeliness, repeating some crazy story he’d heard from Caitlin when she’d called from boarding school, or bragging about Patrick’s accolades at university. While he was certainly stubborn and sometimes cold, Declan’s love for his children pared all of that back, revealing a proud and honest father. It was one of, if not, your favourite thing about him.

The two weeks your car was in the shop went by too fast for either of your liking, the drives to and from Corinium just not quite feeling right without the other. Your perfume lingers in the Mini, the result of your constant presence, every bit of you woven into the fabric of the seats. If Declan just closes his eyes and takes a deep breath in, it’s like you’re still right there next to him, humming along to the radio or trying to pitch him wild guests for his show. You miss his dorky dad jokes, and Declan misses you giggling at them, your laugh a melody that warmed him from the inside out. You were still at The Priory often enough, helping Taggie prepare catering or the two of you lounging about watching Four Men Went To Mow, but it wasn’t the same for Declan. He much preferred having you to himself. 

While you became more comfortable with each other outside of hours, you and Declan also settled into a rhythm in the office. You fed off one another’s creativity, bolstering ideas and show notes until they were airtight. It only took a week for Declan to relent and set you up at the spare desk. It was easier having you nearby rather than constantly moving between his office whenever you had something to add to your findings. You’d also kept up your more put-together wardrobe; tight skirts, and blouses, and high heels. Not that Declan was complaining, but it made his life just that little bit harder, made him more than a little hot under the collar, whenever you bent over to retrieve a box of files or leaned over his desk to show him some of your findings.

There was a lot you loved about your job — the ability to ogle Declan across his office being up there — but you lived for Thursday nights when Declan’s show aired. Watching it from home on your TV set was one thing, but seeing it unfold live in the studio was beyond your imagination. It was incredible seeing your work behind the scenes put into action, and it was made all the better by Declan; always charismatic, stern and unwavering when the time called for it. He was magic, and no matter how hard you tried, you never could seem to wipe the grin off your face while you stood watching on the sidelines, and Declan loved to see it whenever he glanced in your direction. 

It was rare, unheard of, even, for someone to receive praise from Declan, the journalist’s standards so high that he rarely found anyone who could meet them. But somehow, you did. Your research was thorough, always annotated with further notes and references. You weren’t afraid to get on the phones and track down sources. His show, already a success, was made infinitely better by your addition. Not to mention, your coffee was fantastic. Not even in twenty years of marriage had Maud managed to perfect his preference. Still, he rarely raised his satisfaction with you, a simple good or thanks sufficing. No, he saved his satisfaction for moments he was alone. He’d officially given up willing his throbbing cock to flaccidity when thoughts of you creeped in during the quiet hours, allowing himself the quick gratification before the shame set in.

About a month into your tenure at Corinium, Declan was in a foul pit of a mood. He’d barged into his office already on the warpath. He barked orders at you and spent the better part of the morning criticising an upcoming guest, when he’d spent the previous day praising him. He even had you remake his coffee four times after complaints that it was too sweet or too cold or some other ridiculous excuse, despite making it the same way you did everyday. By the time four PM rolled around, you could count on one hand the times Declan had actually looked at you, each time egged on by a scowl. In your short time at the company, and with Taggie’s advice, you’d learned to let your boss be when the stress of the job got to him. Even if you’d built enough rapport to tell him to pull his head in.

It wasn’t until you were leaving for the day that Declan spoke to you without a growl in his voice. “You did grand today,” he says, the comment shocking you as you stood up from your seat. “I know I’ve been an arse all day. I’m sorry. You did a fantastic job, really.” His dark features were soft as he peered up at you from his desk.

“Mr O’Hara, are you paying me a compliment?” You feign shock, hand flush against your chest as you pretend to be scandalised.

“Don’t get used to it,” he tells you, a smile ghosting over his lips. He turns back to his notes,  but unbeknownst to you, he’s unable to read the muddled words on the page, his brain fixated on the way you cooed Mr O’Hara. All breathy and innocent and unintentionally sultry. You made his name yours.

He hates how much he loves it.

When Declan pulls up to The Priory that night, your Vauxhall is in the drive, and his one thought is that he can’t do this tonight. Can’t do you tonight. It’s late, already half-ten by the time he’s slugging through the door, temples throbbing with a Baddingham-induced headache only made worse by the Duran Duran blasting through the house. 

“Taggie!” he booms, dumping his briefcase and corduroy jacket on a chair by the staircase. All he wants is a shower and a whiskey, maybe a cigar, in bed, and he’ll be damned if he does it with the walls of his home rattling to the soundtrack of his daughter’s mixtape. Declan trudges upstairs, lethargy weighing his legs down as he stalks down the hall towards Taggie’s bedroom. Light pours out of the half-open door, followed by your laughter. “Taggie, Jesus fucking Christ, can you turn that bloody racket—”

The rest of the sentence dies on his tongue when you step into view, your back to the door. The black dress you’d worn to the office is discarded on the floor, the full expanse of your body of full display, safe for a plain black bra and matching high-waisted underwear.

“I don’t know, Tag,” Declan hears you say over the music. “Red or black?” You stretch your arm out of sight to retrieve two short dresses that you then hold up against your body. Freddie Jones had invited all of the neighbouring families and friends to Bar Sinister on Friday night for drinks and karaoke, and you were struggling to decide what to wear. Your usual jeans and tee getups were too casual, and your work attire was too, well, work. The stereo clicks, swapping out Rio for Bon Jovi’s You Give Love a Bad Name, pulling a squeal from the back of your throat. 

“I love this song!” you announce, pipping up and down to the beat. Your back arches slightly with each little leap, the ripple of your muscles accentuated every time you hit the creaking floorboards. He feels like a creep, lurking in the shadows, continuing to watch you through the ajar door as you dance around the room in nothing but your underwear, but he can’t tear his eyes from you. Declan worries his bottom lip between his teeth at the sight of your legs, looking impossibly longer now without clothing, and where they stretch into the sweep of your arse. He wants to take you into his mouth, bite down on your supple flesh, hard, before soothing the inevitable red mark with a sloppy kiss. His cock rouses at the temptation, the feeling of his pulsating tip pushing against his trousers making it difficult for him not to march straight into Taggie’s room and swoop you away to his own so he can show you what he thinks about all day while you’re across his office. 

Reality wracks the back of Declan’s mind. What the fuck is he doing? He if had a pound for every time he caught himself leering at you, feeling that heat coil in him until there was nothing left to do but steal himself away to privacy and relieve himself like a sex-obsessed teenager, he’d have enough to pay of his family’s London leaving debt and then some.

Sometime later, once Declan had gathered enough sense, enough strength, to tear himself away from his post outside Taggie’s door, the music in her room recedes low enough that you and your friend can hear each other without yelling.

“I’m going to head home,” you tell Taggie, sluffing out of the robe she let you borrow and back into the ribbed black dress you’d picked out that morning. “Early morning tomorrow and I do not want to catch your dad in another one of his moods again.”

“Fair enough,” your friend relents, passing you the outfits you’d narrowed your options down to. You shove them into your bag, which is already busy with notepads and teabags you bring from home, and tug Taggie into a hug, whispering a farewell into her mess of tawny hair. You slip into the hall and pull her door shut, the walkway enveloped in darkness aside from the small flood of yellow light beaming around the corner. As you head towards the stairs, you notice the light is coming from Declan’s bedroom, where he was probably reading one of those many memoirs or pouring over notes for his show tomorrow night, during which he’d interview the Bishop of London, Right Reverend Graham Leonard. He definitely had a whiskey in hand or by his bedside, and you’re put in mind again of that night the pair of you were in the yard. The memory elicits goosebumps as you pass through the sliver of light and by Declan’s quarters. It’s not until you’re nearing the top of the staircase that you hear a grunt that halts.

What was that?

The noise rouses again, though this time it’s more like a groan, echoing from the room you just passed. You backtrack a few steps — you know you should just be on your way, but you can’t help yourself — and peer into Declan’s room through the slight crack in the door. He’s turned away from you, bracing himself against the dresser by the window. He’s shirtless, and far more tanned than you’d expect for somebody living in England, his back all corded muscle and shoulder blades that pinch together with rigorous movement. His trousers hang low on his hips, low enough that the top of his arse is visible over the waistband, a sparse trail of coarse black hair blooming on his lower back. Under the light, sweat prickles on the back of his neck, and another moan slips from him as he pumps his right arm up and down. It’s only then that you realise what you’ve stumbled upon.

Declan’s none the wiser that you’re watching him the same way he’d done to you not much earlier. His eyes are clamped shut, shielding you from the anguish and pure filth they’re laden with while he lets desire run its course. His breathing is turning almost whimper-like with his frantic movements, while yours shakes deep in your stomach. Saliva pools around your dumb tongue, mouth lax as you observe Declan fist himself with so much savagery his whole body is shaking. It’s like a trainwreck you can’t look away from. A delicious, sordid trainwreck hurtling towards an explosive end.

Then you hear it. Only just. Your name slips from his lips so quietly you wonder if you made it up. 

It’s not the first time Declan has allowed you ownership over him as he tugs himself raw. He’d tried to deny it, tried to morph your image in his mind into Maud’s but it was no use. He was stupid for you. If it’s just him, his hand and his mind, who is it hurting? Nobody has to know. 

But now you do. You know what Declan looks like coming undone, and it’s abundantly clear that it’s you spurring on his animalistic display. An odd sort of pride shoots through you, heat blooming at your core, pussy clenching around nothing as Declan seethes oh, fuck, your name flying out his mouth amid a string of obscenities as he comes. Hot, white ropes spurt over his fist and down his aching length, and his heart bucks against his ribcage as his climax rolls through him, vision flanked white from the intensity of his orgasm. It takes Declan a few moments to gather himself, to come down from his high. He has to squint once he opens his eyes, the well-lit room a stark contrast to the dark corners of his mind. His back burns, as if someone’s stare is boring into him, and his attention snaps to where he foolishly left his door ajar. But the hallway is empty, and he hears your car chug to life in the driveway, followed by the unmistakable crunch of gravel under its tyres.

Eeeeeeeeek, now we're getting somewhere! Thank you for reading! Don't forget to like, comment, reblog if you loved this chapter as much as I did writing it hehe

Previous chapters: Chapter 1: The Interview, Chapter 2: Beneath The Surface

[rubistella]

@relentlessgrief || fucked around and is about to find out

“Well, obviously I am.” Astarion’s tenor was flippant, almost cavalier, as if the idea of rubbing salt into an open wound amused him. Never mind the fact that the ‘wound’ in question belonged to a skeleton. The vampire made no effort to soften his words. Why should he? It wasn’t as though the creature had feelings.

Or so he told himself.

“But we have other differences too,” Astarion continued, voice laced with blatant malice. Crimson eyes appraised the skeleton from skull to phalanges, curiosity peaking. He’d seen it before, the way even a spear through the ribcage didn’t seem to faze the thing. Bone shattered and reformed, yet still...

Astarion half-wondered if holy damage would finally get the job done.

“Some of us may rank among the undead, but can still be killed.” He let the statement steep, a reminder that, despite his vampiric immortality, there were limits.

[empressofmankind]

THE CUT

[Crocodile x Shivs (OC)]

Teen and up ~ 2k / 5 pgs

(A/N): I don't know how to sell you this - It's definitely a Crocodile x Shivs ficlet, but also he isn't in it?! He's mentioned one (1) time.

It's the bad old days prior to the Team Triassic's story line. It's the period between the hushed up Jurassic Park drama (in the aftermath of which Crocodile's accounts got frozen) and the infamous San Diego incident that saw him maimed in the way we all know him to be. That's right, it's 1996 and they're living in San Diego. And not the bella vita.

Tag(s): Suspense. Not-so-veiled threats of violence. Mafia shenanigans. Devil Fruit, whomst? Nothing graphic, this time.

🚬🚬🚬

It had been an typical Monday until just before closing time, when it took an abrupt turn for the worse.

Alfonso had immigrated to San Diego from Marsala three years ago and set up shop near the main street of Little Italy. An excellent spot for a skilled craftsman, and soon people knew where to find him. There had been several regulars today, in for their weekly or biweekly appointment. Some fresh faces, too. He was just wiping his hands on a towel while seeing off his last customer when she entered.

That’s right, a woman.

Dressed as she was in slacks and a vest situation, her face in the shade of a Coppola cap, he’d at first assumed she was a man. After all, all his customers were.

“Lady,” Alfonso said, his surprise evident in his tone. “This is a barbershop.”

Her long fingers lingered on the olive corduroy before she removed her cap to reveal a narrow face and hawkish eyes. Eye, he should say, as a neat leather eyepatch covered the left. She tilted her head like a bird. Or a cat. Perhaps, a cat casing a bird.

“I am aware.”

Her Italian was fluent, but he could not place her accent. She didn’t seem from the neighborhood to him with her red hair and pale skin. Unsure what to make of her, he slipped into the false comfort of his daily routine. She did have her hair cut in a short, flamboyant sort of quiff that had clearly outgrown its ideal length.

“You need a trim, donna?”

“Yes.” She smiled - a self-satisfied, toothy thing more a threat than a reassurance. “Unless you are closed, Alfonso?”

Alfonso frowned and looked her over again. No, he’d remember if he’d met a woman like her. How did she know his name? He shrugged off the unpleasant feeling. Word of mouth, no doubt. If her purpose was a trim, he would provide a trim.

“If there are customers, my doors are open,” he said as he gestured her to his salon chair. He pulled it out for her, but when she sat down, a metallic ‘clang’ rang against the frame. The source was a worn prosthetic, replacing the lower half of her left leg. It was just visible above the neat, two-tone derby when she sat. He busied himself with fashioning his barber cape about her neck and shoulders. If she’d been a man, he’d have assumed she’d lost it in a war, perhaps a severe work accident. What harms threaten a woman’s leg?

The color of her hair was remarkable - lustrous, as copper, and red as spilled wine. And her own, rather than painted as he had first thought. Her roots were as crimson as the rest of it. Yet its texture was rough and stiff as he inspected the grown out quiff. The culprit was hairspray, used amply and regularly, so it would bounce back when she removed her cap. He could determine this because he felt and remedied it on the daily.

“A wax is easier on the hair than a spray,” he said, conversationally, and not for the first time that day. “It holds just as well.” He gauged the length of the now drooping forelock, considering how to prune it into shape. Such an unusual hair shade. A wax would do it good, strengthen its natural shine. If she let it grow, it would be a sight to behold.

“I’ll swipe some from mio capo.”

That gave him pause.

Not the cavalier mention of theft, but whose mouths that particular noun tended to frequent. Then again, their thing, too, was men’s business. He caught her observing him in the mirror. She seemed amused.

He’d never cut a woman’s hair before. He supposed it shouldn’t be any different. Wondered if she would have other expectations of this masculine cut. “Signorina Chiara down the street can cut it proper.”

“Signorina Chiara has paid her protection.”

 Alfonso froze.

He hadn’t forgotten.

Not exactly.

For the past three years, he had made the payment every month on the precise time and day specified. He’d never heard anything, never seen anyone. He gave the envelope with cash to the Mexican girl chewing bubblegum at the corner store, and that was that.

Last week, the day after it was due this month, he realized he forgot to hand over the usual third of his income. He’d been worried, but no one had come. Not the day after that, either. He’d started thinking maybe they hadn’t noticed? His was but a small business. Surely, his few crumpled bills didn’t matter all that much.

She glanced up from the corner of her good eye. “I suggest you don’t ruin it.”

“I’d never, donna.” His hand shook as he combed her hair and lined up his scissors to refresh her haircut. He cut in silence for a while, and she observed him in the mirror. He could sense her gaze on him as snippets of red hair fell to the floor, collecting there like red autumn leaves or spilled blood about a drain.

“Leave the bangs a tad longer,” she said when he was almost done, and he obliged. “Full plate, today?”

“Usual, I would say,” he said as he cut. He’d helped customers all day, but no one had to be turned down.

“Lookin’ after your own, I see,” she surmised, and he noticed the snare around his ankle the moment it closed. “Friend of ours wouldn’t leave us out in the cold.”

He could have suggested that business had slowed down, should have said that income had been scarce.

Too late, now.

“Listen Alfonso.” She rolled her shoulders beneath the barber cape and caught his gaze in the mirror, a flick at their surroundings with her long fingers. “I was told to remind you who got you on solid ground when you arrived here, who helped you set up this little shop.”

She needn’t tell him.

He knew.

For as he watched the last snip of red hair drift to the tiled floor, he realized who sat in his salon chair.

Quello rosso - the red one.

Never had he imagined the Crocodile’s infamous enforcer might be a woman. No one had ever? He’d assumed - expected? He supposed it didn’t matter, now.

“This neighborhood can be rough,” she said as he cautiously tilted her head to trim up the sides. “You wouldn’t want to be without protection.”

“No, signora,” he hastily agreed as he touched the straight razor to the short hair just behind her ear. Unintentionally, his gaze lingered on the slow pulse of veins at the crease of her jaw.

“You seem a smart man, Alfonso.” Her tone was soft and deliberate. “Don’t think stupid thoughts, now.”

Alfonso frowned and coughed, putting the razor down as the fit’s intensity brought fluid up from his lungs. It left as quickly as it had started.

“Scuse,” he managed as he recovered, and rinsed and dried his hands before returning to the task at hand.

He glimpsed her sly smile in the mirror. “It’s been going around.”

He finished the cut, and she seemed well enough pleased with it as she rose and inspected it. “Listen, you bring the missing dough and a little extra for this hassle come Thursday, and I won’t be bringing this suit to the dry-cleaner.” She returned her cap to its proper place and turned to him. “That sound fair to you?”

Less than three days.

She tilted her head, and he felt another coughing fit come on.

“Si, signora,” he agreed in between coughs and his throat cleared. “Thursday, subito.”

She smiled and he hurried to open the door for her.

He didn’t release the breath he’d been holding until she’d crossed the street and disappeared into the alley behind Gino’s. He flipped the sign to ‘closed’ and sank to the ground with his back against the glass door.

‘A little extra for this hassle.’

How much money did they expect?

All of it.

He’d assume all of it. If that wasn’t sufficient… The magnitude of what had happened hit him, and he broke down in sobs. He knew he was lucky if this was all he ever saw of her.

Her.

Never would he have suspected… he marshaled his nerves.

He would not make that mistake again.

🚬🚬🚬

@tiredemomama @feral-artistry @lostfirefly @supermetalfandomfreak @biohazard-inevitable @fanaticsnail @gingernut1314 @katmihawk @momodwriter @dressycobra7 @bronsterbash

[theunkown-yachirusan]

The Crimson Moon

Opening File......

File name : Y/n

.......

Y/n Uchiha the eldest sister of Uchiha Itachi and Uchiha Sasuke. The very well known "Akai me no Kaibutsu" or as "The Red-eyes Monster" of Konoha as that time her team was ambushed by a fully armed Shinobi which her friends and teacher was killed and in the process her Sharingan and then her Mangekyou has appeared and she killed everyone and then a ninja from Konoha saw it all. A 10 year old girl killed an army . Her Susano'o barely was barely complete but it did not failed to protect her. When growing up and rising to rank Jonin she and her brother Itachi become Anbu together.She was then imprisoned by Danzo and sealed her never to be seen by anyone after the massacre of her clan, but years later she was released by the man named 'Madara' and recruited her to Akatsuki. She has hidden herself to anyone but her brother and the organization,but when the war has come she revealed herself and was killed by the hands of Kaguya Otsutsuki but unbeknownst to Kaguya, Y/n was the reincarnation of her.

Upon arriving to Valhalla and meeting Brunhilde she found herself at Japanese Pantheon. Reuniting with many familiar faces that she knows back at her own world, the world of Shinobi and her love ones.

When hearing the news of the rise of the demons, she created an association together with the Demon Slayers and Valkyries and Humanities Champions(during the selection). The leaders Herself, Ubuyashiki and Brunhilde became the three main leaders of the association that will ensure the safety of all the beings.

The association was created even before the announcement of eradication of humanity or even the meeting of all the Gods.

Going back, The three main leaders has planned upon the following and the group that will be called :

Alpha squadron consist of all Shinobi together guarding the Swordsmiths and are assigned to go around every pantheons secretly and investigate if there are demons or suspicious around and will kill in secrecy. This squadron has 3 sector :

the Cavaliers who will kill without any hesitations and is grouped to any squadron or group. They are mostly assigned to protect and/or assassinate.

The Revolutionists consist of Akatsuki members but they are the group who will want changes as they all want to go against the Gods since they want to eradicate humanity they are assigned sometimes for negotiations or stealing. Some of them only agreed because they were going to be paid(hi kakuzu) they are the ones who are also called Protestants. They are mostly assigned to protest and to spread rumors.

The Investigators most likely consist of all kages but there are some who are not kages and is assigned to find any traces of Demons around and any suspicious people.

Beta squadron consist of Demon Slayers the ones who will hunts down Demons along with the Cavalier group. Yoriichi tsugikuni, Michikatsu tsugikuni, Lady Tamayo and Yushiro has also become a part of the corps ever since knowing that demons still roam around.

Delta consist of Human Champions(even Buddha is allowed) and Valkyries they are the ones on the spotlight. It was supposedly only the Valkyries but then the eradication of humanity was announced.

But then Brunhilde, Lord Ubuyashiki and Y/n found their selves at the presence of the creators of their world. Along with Nyx, her husband Erebus ,along with the Titans and the rest of the creators has blessed those who are to protect everyone. Which Blessed all those who are in the association. Especially. You.

The Alpha and Beta squad is not to be seen, they are only the darkness and shadow of the Delta squad. They are the ones who will guard down the whole place and every pantheons and never to be seen. No one, not even the Gods has noticed their existence. Except to the God of Underworld.

But before the creation of the association, she asked Brunhilde if she can work at the Norse Pantheon to which she agreed. And informed the Gods rather late.

Her duty at the Norse Pantheon is a maid which was quickly makes everyone question...even Odin was left questioning as to why such a human herself wound want to work...since...working there would be endless. And no human can last forever. or are they?

And the eyes of the Storm meets the incarnation of Otsutsuki Kaguya.

|

[hyakilove129]

Part 1

En español

Bueno unos garabatos que hice cómic no me salieron muy bien ya que iba en taxi

in English

Well, some doodles that I did comic did not come out very well since I was in a taxi

Part 2

En español

Bueno beacon ya no le tiene tanto miedo a absorbó pero cavalier si

Absorbo lad trata de llevarse mejor con ellos ahora solo es una pequeña visita le pone incómodo beacon

in English

Well beacon is no longer so afraid of absorbed but cavalier is

I absorb lad tries to get along with them better now it's just a small visit makes him uncomfortable beacon

[four-loose-screws]

FE2 Novelization Translation - Prologue

If you would like to start from the beginning, read a missed part, etc., click here!

FE Game Script Translations - FE Novel Translations - Original FE Support Conversations

If you are interested in donating to support my work, please check out my Ko-fi here. Thank you!

———————————

Prologue

Darkness ravaged the sky.

Sometimes, a bright light flickered in that darkness and made a noise like that of a silver sword, as if writhing at the sudden realization of its own ugliness.

Beings with the ability to breathe fire knew their flames drew this darkness in closer, and also that the flames of their enemy’s suffering raged beyond trails as crimson red as blood.

The overwhelming waves of their screams, sobs, and wails blended with the great rumbling of the thunder splitting the sky, as dark clouds spewed forth lightning.

Raindrops as thick as an ancient tree trunk pelted the ground and ran across the earth, their muddy streams as fierce as a dragon, bending the knees of those clad in armor.

And the storm blew mercilessly against the dead, unfolding their arms their friends had placed at their chests, and scattering the flowers offered to them.

Why were the heavens going so mad that they birthed such a pure darkness and violent thunderstorm? If units are born to fight, then why were the heavens so angry?

Because the burden units bear is to plot the right course of history and fate. Nothing more, nothing less. They are not actually born to fight.

The heavens were angry at themselves for bestowing upon units a fate in which they are forced to perpetually fight.

ー

…That is the tale of those who fight. From the moment they are born from their mother's womb, they already bear the tragic burden of the tale told by those called units.

They believe with all of their hearts in the path they walk, and continuously fight, not once ever compromising with those who would block their path. It is a pure, genuine way of life, and the people honor that purity. That is how those who fight became known as units, from unity, as they unite people together.

Units. Why did the people decide they were different, and choose to call them by a separate name? Because they are such absolute and perfect human beings that 'unit' came to take on its own meaning. Although sometimes, that definition is filled with the sadness of their utter loneliness.

Units are the children of the two gods that founded the continent of Valentia in ancient times, Earth Mother Mila and War Father Duma, polar opposites of each other. Strange as it is, the units, both those that become enemy and ally, at the same time, and with the same devotion, worship those two gods.

Their worship is not only the method that grants them skills of the soul, brings their soul peace, and makes their soul stronger. Devoting themselves to the gods both changes their souls and immediately resculpts their bodies.

Their devotion to Earth Mother Mila and War Father Duma is the foundation for their strong bodies, combat prowess, and sometimes even their abilities to control sacred beasts. They exist on another level far higher than any normal human could achieve. Their great power is Mila's will for them, and their lust for battle is Duma's. Each unit's will becomes one with that of the gods, and they undergo a transformation not unlike a caterpillar's metamorphosis into a butterfly.

One example of a unit is the 'Cavalier,' a type of knight that attacks their enemies from atop a sacred horse. A Cavalier can become a 'Paladin,' which grants them new combat abilities and even greater mobility. Finally, they can ascend to another level even further beyond that, 'Gold Knight,' which turns their internal organs the color of gold. For those who become Gold Knight, both the unit themself and their sacred horse can breathe normally even under water.

That is the basic nature of their transformations into higher beings, which the units call "transcendence."

Despite any differences between them, all units hold the same belief in the two gods. That belief is the basis for their desire to transcend into higher beings, and the hard work they devote themselves to every day towards achieving their ultimate combat form.

But if that is so, then why must units fight each other? If you ask them, the answer they will likely give you, and the one they believe in, is this: though no one remembers why or when it started, history has always divided humanity into the defeated and those who defeated them. And so, the question traces back once again to ancient times. And if we ask ourselves who weaves history, then we find ourselves directing the question towards the gods. The two gods that founded the continent of Valentina are polar opposites. They created the units, and so none other than Duma and Mila themselves could be the answer as to who gave units their fate that forces them to fight each other.

Though she fought, Mila's true purpose was creation, and so she grieved the need for war, instead desiring to rule her country through kindness and love. Hers is the gentle and beautiful Kingdom of Zofia.

In direct contrast, Duma believes that war nurtures people like milk does a baby, and desires to rule a country guided by that ideal. His is the Rigelian Empire, home of countless valiant knights.

Because Valentina was the world birthed by two such gods as Duma and Mila, they were fated to rule as polar opposites over the north and the south. Zofia was established in the lands to the south, and Rigel the lands of the north. And so, as Valentina was one continent home to two nations incompatible in their ways of life, it became necessary to establish a treaty.

The Divine Accord stated that the two nations must understand each other - or at least ignore each other - and one must never invade the other. Duma and Mila, unaware of the characteristics of human nature, formed this vow called the Divine Accord, and ruled over Valentina.

But Duma and Mila are different. They had always been different. When water and oil are put together in a pot, they repel each other, separate, then stabilize. At first, they exist in harmony. But once the oil becomes dirty, the water becomes dirty. The boundary between them gradually disappears, and they mix. The resulting liquid becomes cloudy and muddy where the two meet, causing the two incompatible personalities to sharpen the fearful fangs they bear towards each other.

The Divine Accord was nothing more than a short-lived illusion. This mistake of theirs caused Mila and Duma to once again become hostile towards each other.

Meaning that Valentina was now on the verge of its most violent war yet since the dawn of its history.

[annawayne]

Victorian AU The lady and the gardener.

All boundaries are made by people for people. The curved line on the map leads to a conflict between countries, the wooden fence marks the boundary of someone's mansion, the old bridge divides the city into two different world, the social status dictates how to live and tries to kill even hints of love between two from different worlds. But there are no barriers to love- it's like the wind wanders around, invisible and full of force. Someone is blessed with the gentle breeze of quiet life, while others find themselves in the untamed tornado of passion. Sometimes, it's the instant blow, like a spark - blinding chaos of sensations. At times, it's the steady air of slow burn, but periodically it fades away like the strong tempest dissolve into the calmness. Then there are times when it's just the oxygen to breath, the natural, essential, element of living. That's why the wild wind brought them together, carrying their hearts above all the obstacles and barricades.

The weight of the noble name of Leonhart was always one of Annie's the heaviest accessories - it hangs on her shoulders like the iron shall, each letter engraving into her skin like the permanent ink without a way to wash it away, dictating her surroundings and her future. But love doesn't ask as it sinks further, right there, where each erratic ta-BUM is ready to rip apart her ribs when she sees the blond mop, the hazel eyes and the warmest smile of her father's mansion gardener.

Their secret relationship smells like the morning fog, when they meet in the maze Armin takes care of; it hides in the almost ghost glance across the room when they're surrounded by people; it wanders in the velvet touch of the shadows; in longing kisses between the green of the garden; in sweat on their bare bodies when one of them sneak into the room of another.

Their love - forbidden by society and blessed by nature - doesn't witness sunny rays or clear sky, but every time Annie puts roses in her hair and on her hat, she knows they will carry their affection beyond any borders this life forces onto them. Only she knows the gorgeous field of roses, the snowy with the feeble hint of blues, he is growing for her and her only.

Armin found this sort some years ago, and, following his words, he "wanted her to have something to remember him even when he is not by her side". It started as a small bush, such a contrast between crimson red and sunrise orange roses as if in the middle of the gorgeous richness of autumn colors suddenly the winter decided to appear with snow. However, Armin didn't stop - just at the end of the plant maze, there's a spot of their secret dates under the weeping tree, and it's flooding now in the sea of roses .

Annie would pick a few flowers from the bouquets Armin presents her with a shy smile while avoiding her gaze. He would mumble something about how sorry he is about not giving her something more beautiful, about his clothes she knew he always wears the best of them on their dates, being so shallow, something about being a commoner, something… Something, that doesn't matter for her, because when others give her their artificial attention, Armin gave her his soul and body, when someone presents her a small flower, he gives her a whole field.

Even when the palm of someone who her father wants to see as her husband touches her waist in a dance during the ball, even when the dull compliments like the script from the cheap novel fly from the mouth of another potential cavalier her father sent, even when their clothes are so heavy decorated like the palace, even…even in every circumstance, Annie wears roses he grows for her and silently declares to everyone that her heart already belongs to someone. All these gallants would say her eyes are the sky, the ocean, the lake, the winter…but only her Armin knows the truest color of her eyes.

"The moonlight crystal", he says in a lazy whisper, brushing some wet strands from her flushed face. Her bare frame shines in the silky haze of the night, breaking through the window of his small cabin at the end of the mansion yard, and the smile, her genuine one, adorns her face with the sensible lace of her sincere affection. And when someone at the ball would ask about the name of the roses in her hair, Annie would tilt her chin, a proud smile would curve her lips, and the words, full of adoration and respect, would fly like petals,

"The moonlight crystal".

BONUS Victorian photo version,

[chipen]

drip, drip, drip .. the fall of droplets against concrete fills the air, you can hear the splatter of it as it collides against the hard surface, how it alters the color from grey to a dark crimson. all you can think as you look at this is 'it'll stain'. sure, the rain will wash most of it away soon, when the storm clouds fill the sky and cleanse the earth again, but until then, it'll still be stained; a remanent of this incident will be left, an imprint of what occurred. you stand up on jellified legs, clenching your teeth together when a flare of pain erupts in your knee (either you landed too harsh or your arthritis is acting up again). you can feel a warmth spread 'cross face as the blood trickles down from exposed wound on forehead, spilling down your face in thin streams. the wooziness that blood loss brings is there but you ignore it. like always, you push onwards, acting almost indifferent about the whole affair. " i do it just for you. " monotone voice still manages to retain that sarcastic lilt, reaching up to swipe at brow line with sleeve, annoyed that you'll have to handwash your costume once your home to get that blood out of it. your hands will freeze from the cold water as you try and get very bit of blood out (which is made harder by the dark fabric of it). you sigh a bit just knowing you won't be sleeping much at all. your gaze finally settles onto him, no longer occupying eyes with bloody cement or the wetness of your sleeve, face void of emotion as you wait for him to speak. the silence doesn't bother you as it blankets over, used to the feeling and finding comfort in the quiet; you weren't much of a conversationist anyways. though, the metallic scent in the air is starting to get to you a little and it's taking everything in you not to lean against the wall, a slight tremble from exhaustion and pain. / con't @bulletshot

RARE  -  THESE  DAYS,  THAT  YOU  CHOOSE  TO  TAKE  the  night  shift.  but  sometimes  the  memories  curdled  beneath  the  skin  like  spoiled  milk,  sometimes  that  same  dream  haunts  you  over  and  over  again,  and  the  empty  house  with  only  your  eldest  son's  shrine  greets  you  when  you  come  home.  it's  better  to  be  away.  you  see  it  their  faces,  and  it's  undoubtedly  better  for  you  in  the  end  too.  but  that  doesn't  mean  you're  not  chased  out  the  front  door  by  phantoms,  back  into  the  city  streets  at  one  am  with  the  comforting  heat  of  your  flames  the  only  balm.  on  nights  like  this  -  the  sky  yawns  wide  and  sheds  tears  for  the  lives  you  wrecked  with  bare,  open  palms.

but  he's  the  one  bleeding.

you  stare  down  at  him  -  blue  eyes  lit  stark  beneath  the  curtain  of  your  flame.  steam  rises  from  your  body  beneath  water  droplets,  and  your  youngest  son's  illustrious  teacher  looks  the  part  of  a  bloody  wet  cat.  he's  never  without  his  verbal  sabers  though,  and  for  that  you  feel  no  small  amount  of  respect  as  well.

❝ if  you  wanted  my  attention,  you  could  have  just  called. ❞  it's  almost  like  a  joke  -  except  you  don't  really  do  that,  not  anymore.  instead  -  you  dull  the  flames  upon  your  body,  reaching  out  with  cavalier  intent.  the  flame  patterned  cloth  is  produced  from  utility  pouch,  and  you  fold  it  neatly.  giant,  surprisingly  gentle  hands  smooth  away  inky,  blood  and  rain  damp  hair,  before  you  press  navy  cloth  to  that  leaking  wound.  you  step  closer,  unnatural  warmth  hopefully  a  balm,  before  turning  the  cloth  over  to  press  the  clean  side  to  the  still  leaking  cut.  ❝ not  too  deep,  but  judging  by  your  clothes  i  guess  you  took  other  hits. ❞  no  disapproval  -  just  a  statement  of  fact  -  and  you  pause  only  long  enough  to  glance  towards  the  rainy  night  sky.

❝ come,  my  agency  isn't  far. ❞  it's  not  really  a  suggestion,  but  he  should  be  grateful  you're  polite  about  it,  offering  a  steadying  arm  devoid  of  hellflame,  ❝ you'll  catch  your  death  out  here,  and  your  quirk  is  too  valuable  for  that. ❞

[gasha40k]

At long last! It’s been a while since my last post, although I’m sure I could probably start every post by saying that. Warhammer has taken a back-burner position in my life for the past few months. I haven’t played a game of 40k since October! If I���m honest, this is primarily because of money. I’ll spare everyone the rant and say that 40k’s prohibitively expensive nature has become, well, prohibiting, I guess. But that being said, the fixation always returns. And return it has! In the last however-many-months since my last post, I’ve spent most of my 40k time playing Kill Team and avoiding finishing my reading of Angron: The Red Angel, but I’ve done a little bit of fun stuff on the side that I’d like to share.

First time using colored primer went pretty well! Certainly saved me a lot of time and Mephiston Red paint

Angron is progressing! Since my last post I’ve primed him and most of his subassemblies. I’m painting him sort of in half, with his left arm and wing detached, as well as his bronze armor plating. I’m doing this so that I can get in and color the backsides of his wings properly.

This guy has been a big challenge so far. A model this large is both imposing and resource-intensive, and I’ve done literally no painting as of recent, so I’m likely not going to finish him for a long while, but I’m excited for when I eventually do.

Formerly known as Urayen’s Reavers, the Eclipse Cavaliers are a band of opportunistic Aeldari Corsairs who all seek one thing and one thing alone: profit

Moving on. As I mentioned previously, I started playing Kill Team this year, and I gotta say, KT fucking rocks! The rules are super approachable and the small scale of the game allows for much more focused and cinematic battles. It’s also a lot quicker, which makes it much easier to get pickup games in, which means I can actually play some 40k sometimes nowadays.

These xenos boys are known as the Eclipse Cavaliers. They’re a band of scumbag Corsairs and my squad of choice. I’ve written a lot of backstory for these boys so as to texture my games a bit more for myself, so I’m gonna put all that stuff in another post where I can talk about these characters in a bit more detail.

The 2nd Company is lead by the boisterous Captain Zaraf Gorfried Redfale. They specialize in the utilization of heavy war implements, such as Gravis armor, tanks, and artillery vehicles

Now that we’re onto more conceptual subject matter, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about how the Thunderbearers actually function as a Chapter. Each Company of the Thunderbearers controls a massive warfleet—much larger than the average fleet of most Successor Chapters—and acts as a semi-autonomous fighting force in and of itself, with the ability to prosecute independent campaigns so long as they remain aligned and in accordance with the Chapter as a whole. The 1st Company is functionally the “core” of the Chapter, made up of the Chapter’s command fleet, veteran company, and portions of the 10th.

The 2nd Company is technically the first of the Chapter’s autonomous fighting forces, and they’re also the only Company for which I own a Captain (the big Gravis fucker who I show off pretty often). The 2nd Company’s culture can largely be sourced to that of a feudal desert world known as Manticore. As the 2nd Company makes up a good amount of the Chapter’s infantry regiments, I felt it necessary to give them their own heraldry.

The special heraldry on their armor pays respect to Manticore in a few different ways. First and foremost, the red armor is a visual homage to the cold, crimson dunes that cover Manticore, but secondarily, it is a holdover tradition that comes from Manticoran warrior culture, wherein it was standard practice to color one’s armor with any number of red pigments so as to camouflage themselves in the dunes. Over time, different colorations of red grew to signify different things, with the 2nd Company’s crimson and gold coming to represent wealth and nobility.

I think that having a squad or two with a splash of red will really make my Space Marines pop out a little bit, and will definitely add some variation into my annoyingly uniform army. I’m thinking of doing little streaks of red on a few of the vehicles, as well, which will make them stand out too.

Speaking of vehicles, the Thunderbearers have received some reinforcements!

This is a Ballistus Dreadnought that I got my hands on through a friend of mine who was selling his Astartes. I kitbashed him a little but tried not to overdo it with the baubles, since my Redemptor is a bit of a piece. Design-wise, I tried to make this a sort of “Primaris update” of one of my first models, Big Harold.

The Aurum Eternatus, one of the Chapter’s most sanctified relics, is a Venerable Dreadnought whose chassis contains the body of the previous fallen Chapter-Master

The thing that I like the most about the Venerable Dreadnought is the ornate look to it. It’s got a lot of trim and fancy panels everywhere and kind of looks like a church-mech.

This aesthetic choice is most noticeable in the lascannon, in my opinion. Combined with the gold trim, the cool indented archway designs on the side panel of the las sorta gives “Gothic castle wall.”

While I couldn’t really replicate the trim, I did use a bunch of bits from the Venerable Dreadnought kit to up the Gothic factor. There’s also a noticeable lack of purity seals on Big Harold, which was something that I absolutely had to remedy. There’s 7 seals! Now we’ve got a proper 7-times blessed Primaris-scale lascannon to snipe tanks with.

Harold has sort of fallen out of use in my lists recently because, uh, Venerable Dreadnoughts do not exist anymore. Awesome! The older Dreads just aren’t as good as Redemptors as well, so Harold has sort of retired to a more ritualistic position on the Chapter.

In his stead, though, we’ve got quite a few new additions to the army alongside our Ballistus. Not included here is another drop pod and a bunch of new infantry units.

Sternguard Veterans of the Thunderbearers 1st Company

Here’s one of ‘em! This is my first squad of Sternguard Veterans, but I’m in the process of building another. Like the Ballistus, these dudes are as of yet unnamed, but I like them quite a bit! To be critical, though, I think I overdid it with some of the bits, but I’m sure the silhouettes will look less obnoxious once they’re all painted and voluminous.

My favorite of the bunch is probably the Veteran Sergeant. His heroic pose and classic bits give “default Space Marine.” And the Veteran on the left is using a bit of a unique shoulder pad that may or may not be a cleansed and sanctified Chaos relic, which may or may not be a common practice in the Thunderbearers Reclusiam Cataegis.

Next post will include the Eclipse Cavaliers and a new Thunderbearers character guy.

[ariesgamesandminis]

Another round of restocks for BattleTech from Iron Wind Metals!

10-038 Command Lance 10-040 Assault Lance 10-042 Fire Lance 10-043 Support Lance 20-028 Lola I/II Destroyer 20-041 Vincent MK 39 Corvette 20-193 Texas Battleship (3057) 20-204 Ninja-To NJT-2 20-214 Bloodhound B1-HND 20-239 Verfolger VR5-R 20-249 Cronus CNS-5M 20-275 Heavy Tracked APC (2) 20-305 Scorpion Light Tank (2) 20-320 Ryoken "Stormcrow" Prime / B 20-328 Legionnaire LGN-2D / LGN-2K 20-346 Crimson Hawk 20-409 Joust Medium Tank (2) 20-5004 Wolverine II WVR-7H 20-5048 Beowulf IIC 20-5070 Shen Yi SHY-3B 20-5083 Warwolf Prime 20-5102 Eyrie 20-5123 Wendigo Prime 20-5124 Quasimodo QSM-3D 20-5162 Anzu ZU-G60 / ZU-J70 20-5186 Thunderbolt TDR-5S 20-5194 Sojourner Prime 20-5203 Ryoken (Stormcrow) TC / B 20-5215 Mastodon Prime 20-5220 Jade Phoenix A 20-669 Anvil ANV-3M 20-701 Sparrowhawk Fighter SPR-H5 20-703 Stuka Fighter STU-K5 20-733 Oro Heavy Tank (2) 20-750 Rommel / Patton Tank (2) 20-769 Excalibur EXC-B2 20-775 Wyvern WVE-5N 20-778 Crockett / Katana CRK-5003-1 20-800 Hex Bases (4) 20-802 Mongoose MON-66 20-885 Hermes II HER-2S 20-905 Blackjack BJ2-O 20-932 Vindicator VND-1R 20-940 Great Wyrm 20-944 Yeoman YMN-6Y 20-995 Legacy LGC-01 99-201 Large Flat Top Hex Base #1 99-202 Large Flat Top Hex Base #2 99-207 Large Flat Top Hex Base #3 99-500 Small Bunker 99-600 Small Missile Launcher Turret BT-005 Grenadier Battle Armor BT-026 Union (2708) BT-028 Cavalier Battle Armor BT-078 Slayer Micro Fighter BT-094 Kirghiz Micro Fighter BT-096 Stuka Micro Fighter BT-128 Tornado Battle Armor BT-149 Eisensturm Micro Fighter BT-173 Sai Micro Fighter BT-182 Sovetskii Soyuz Heavy Cruiser (2750) BT-187 Djinn Battle Armor BT-248 Zero Mech Scale Fighter BT-298 Ares ARS-V1B Hades BT-299 Ares ARS-V1C Aphrodite BT-300 Ares ARS-V1D Hephaestus BT-371 Davion Infantry (3) BT-381 Basic Inner Sphere Battle Armor (3) BT-425 Uziel UZL-8S BT-469 Sojourner B CE-005 Wraith TR2-X Tripod Six Pack 20-215C Ostsol Arm Sprue 20-616C Grand Titan Left Arm

[pyropsychiccollector]

Fairy Tail - Fervent Crimson Flame plotline notes (part 3)

Tartaros Arc:

            - There’s a few lulls before this arc begins in earnest… Gajeel and Rogue bond. Rusty Rose becomes acquainted with Rufus. Azuma becomes something akin to an enforcer for Erza on particularly tough jobs; he becomes acquainted with Team Crimson Flame, but doesn’t necessarily join in an official capacity. Sorano, Lucy, and Yukino still get together for that “Eclipse Spirit” arc, and the ones to backup the Celestial Wizards are Racer, Midnight, Cobra, Richard, Natsu, Wendy, Kagura, and Simon. For the “Sun Village” arc, it’s tackled by Natsu, Gray, Mira, Juvia, Elfman, Lisanna, Meredy, and Ultear.

            - The “Sun Village” arc begins with Warrod calling Natsu and Gray for a job. They’re free to bring their friends, although at the time Natsu’s team is mostly out on separate jobs, so only Ultear and Meredy are able to come along. Team Mira decides to tag along with Gray, however. When they get to Warrod’s abode, Natsu greets him so casually, which Ultear and Mira get a little twitchy about. But Warrod enjoys Natsu’s cavalier attitude, having met the lad on multiple occasions because of Serena taking a shining to him. Warrod asks after his “sprouts”, who are settling into Fairy Tail at their own paces. Gray eventually gets impatient, asking about the job, and Warrod fills them in while explaining his own… hobbies. Before he helps them reach the village, Mira asks about him being a Founder of Fairy Tail, if he’s ever thought about returning to the guild over the years. But Warrod has possessed bountiful confidence in their abilities to take care of themselves, knowing that young Makarov had things well in hand, and he has just as much faith in Erza as he saw how she performed during the games. Fairy Tail doesn’t need a fossil like him, but he’s thrilled with the progress they’re making on eliminating the Balam Alliance.

            - Natsu and co. soon learn that the Treasure Hunter trio has their best chance of freeing the village through a bottle of Moon Drip… And Minerva has come along with a Succubus Eye member to get revenge for the Grand Magic Games’ outcome. Ultear stays behind to learn more about the Sun Village, leaving the trio to the rest of their team to pursue. Unfortunately for the trio, they decide to split up with two staying behind to slow the group of Fairy Tail mages… And only Gray, Juvia, Lisanna, and Elfman stay behind. Natsu, Meredy, and Mira soar in pursuit of the remaining treasure hunter who’s still running. Elfman and Lisanna take on Hammer Rala, Gray and Juvia take on Sword Hiroshi, and Natsu, Meredy, and Mira take on Sniper Drake.

            - They make short work of the treasure hunters… But the Moon Drip gets shattered mid-fight, and it was never going to be enough to free the Eternal Flame. Ultear is slowly piecing together what happened to the village when it was iced over, but there’s not enough clues to get the whole truth, much less reverse what’s happened. Minerva confronts Ultear once Doriate has used his power to de-age her; Ultear knows that she’s at a clear disadvantage the way she is, so she focuses on evasive maneuvers. Unfortunately for Minerva, Ultear trained pretty harshly as a child, so while Ultear is handicapped, she’s still a fierce fighter with Ice Make Magic. Meanwhile, Doriate tries crushing the other Fairy Tail mages, de-aging them… But Gray manages to channel Devil Slaying Magic through the ice, and eventually manages to defeat Doriate, who gets eaten by his flying comrade. Once they’re back to normal, Natsu pummels the flying enemy, and Ultear makes short work of Minerva, who beats a hasty retreat.

- Ultear connects back up with everyone, and they make it to the Eternal Flame as Gray melts the ice and Natsu feeds it some fire to help it out. Without Wendy, they’re not able to channel Atlas Flame’s spirit… But with all the power that Natsu fed it, the Flame subconsciously frees the village, and the giants fill the mages in on the single man that came and froze everything. He was here on a demon hunt… But clearly, the Eternal Flame isn’t a demon; it’s not even alive. Natsu still deduces it’s the remnants of Atlas Flame, some of his spirit living on… And he feeds the flame some more power before leaving with his friends. Ultear is curious about this “Devil Slaying Magic”, but Gray can’t really explain it too well  how he was able to channel it… With the ice gone, it’s not like Ultear can try it for herself… But she muses that if that man is still out there, perhaps they’ll deal with him someday. Minerva returns to Succubus Eye headquarters to find her guildmates all dead, Kyoka’s handiwork as she tried to enhance them. She attempts to enhance Minerva…

            - The Fairy Tail team returns to Warrod on foot, and he shares a night of fellowship with them now that their mission is complete. He shares Mavis’s words with them, her feelings as Fairy Tail’s First Master. Warrod can see perfectly well that they embody that same passionate spirit, even in Ultear who expresses modesty over her time in Fairy Tail. Warrod doesn’t have information on END, but he suspects Tartaros is harboring a Demon from the Book of Zeref, and they share what his “sprouts” knew about Tartaros… Information they never shared with him out of pride. Warrod appreciates the sentiment, but there’s not much he can do with it, retired as he is. Still, he has faith that Fairy Tail will bring down the last key member of the Balam Alliance…

            - With Jellal dead, Tartaros needs only to kill two more Councilors before Face is unleashed. Kyouka has Crawford locate the retired Councilmen, and he also begins work on transferring them to himself… It’ll take a while.

            - … That said, there is nothing to stop Jackal, Tempester, Ezel, Torafuzar, and even Sayla from going out to tackle their agenda imprecisely. Kyouka, Franmaith, Silver, and Keyes stay behind at headquarters. Jackal attacks the Council as they meet to discuss Tartaros; and the others go after members that retired within the past seven years. Mest attempts to save Councilman Org and Lahar… But Jackal ends up killing him. The attack on the Council is heard far and wide, advertised in the newspapers in the coming days.

            - Laxus and the Thunder Legion repel Tempester, as they are conveniently around helping Yajima and Makarov out with the restaurant, but like in canon… there are the Bane Particles they get infected with. Laxus sucks up most of the toxins, but it’s still going to be a rough recovery for all of them. When the Thunder Legion, Yajima, and Makarov are rushed to Fairy Tail’s infirmary, and officials move too disinfect the area where Tempester exploded, many members of Fairy Tail are present, concerned for their friends’ lives.   

            - With Tartaros making their move, Erza rallies the Guild for this last major battle with the Balam Alliance. Natsu, the Strauss Siblings, Gray, Juvia, Simon, Meredy, Wendy, Kagura, Gajeel, Levy, Jet, Droy, Lucy, Loke, Capricorn, Erik, Kinana, Wally, Richard, Sho, Cana, Millianna, and Azuma are all there in the infirmary to see the infected patients for themselves. Macao, Wakaba, Romeo, Warren, Max, Laki, the dancer, Nab, and the Exceeds are also there. Sawyer, Macbeth, Sorano, Rusty Rose, and Ultear are all right outside, listening in. They win this, that coalition of Dark Guilds will be much more disorganized. But that said… there is much for them to do, including getting the blood Porlyusica needs to heal Makarov, Yajima, Laxus, and the Thunder Legion. Erza sends out messages to Allies such as Blue Pegasus, Sabertooth, Lamia Scale, and Quatro Cerberus to get reinforcements for this fight; though because she’s just sending them out now, Ultear proposes that they get help from a more… unlikely source. And so Erza gives her the go-ahead to take Simon and Meredy to go negotiate with the Rune Knights to release a certain prisoner…

            - Meanwhile, poring over the information they have on-hand, they learn the retired Chairman is missing – even from his secret home, after they go to look for him there – and so Erza has Natsu get to work tracking him down, as only he could answer as to why Tartaros is going after Councilors. Ultear has no idea, and nearly all the other Councilors, past and present, have been slaughtered by Tartaros. Gajeel is depressed at Belno’s passing, and Sayla gets the drop on Lucy’s group as they arrive too late to save Michello, deeming it interesting enough to capture a Celestial Wizard and keep the Spirits at bay. Jet and Droy try to save her, but Sayla incapacitates all of them and whisks them away to Tartaros.

            - Erza leaves the Guild to go support Natsu who may have a lead on Tartaros’ headquarters. While she’s away, Jackal moves in to attack Fairy Tail due to them being the ‘biggest obstacle’ to their plans. They have a harder time beating him back with diminished manpower; it’s only after Azuma, Rusty Rose, Elfman, and Lisanna work together that they’re able to get him to self-detonate, which regrettably takes the Guild Hall with him – though Cana and Sho are able to save everyone with their Card Dimensions, and the Exceeds will eventually take them to attack Tartaros when Natsu and Erza have a concrete location for Tartaros’ base.

            - Upon arrival at Tartaros’ base, Natsu, Erza, and Happy encounter Franmaith, who proves to be a troublesome opponent. Yet they find a way to defeat him after he reveals some details of his Curse off-handedly. No sooner do they do that, however, than do Keyes and Silver arrive upon hearing the scuffle. Understandably, Natsu, Erza, and Happy retreat when their Magic has little effect on these new foes – though they do take note Silver’s uncanny resemblance to Gray…

            - The Exceeds are en route with Fairy Tail’s forces, as are Ezel, Torafuzar, and Sayla upon hearing from Crawford that they took out the two Councilors holding the Keys to Face. Natsu and Erza might have ‘retreated’, but only to the point that they were flying around Tartaros’ base. They eventually find another entry point and beat back the grunts guarding the entrance, unwittingly giving their Guild an opening to invade the base.

            - Mira, Gray, Erik, Richard, Macbeth, Sawyer, Sorano, Rusty Rose, and Azuma lead the charge inside Cube after their forces land. Though honor might have held them back from attacking Tartaros before, the former Dark Guild members are past the point of holding back. They’ve attained better futures, and Tartaros is attempting to wipe out all Magic from the continent… Tartaros made an enemy of everyone. Mira and Azuma eventually find themselves in Hell’s Core, where Jackal is almost regenerated, and Franmalth is beginning the process (Tempester is already up and about again). Lucy was also stuffed in a vat to attempt to make her into a demon, but the process has barely started. The two handily defeat Lamy, but that gives Jackal enough time to emerge and start his counterattack. Eventually, Azuma keeps him at bay long enough for Mira to destroy Hell’s Core, preventing Franmalth from (fully) regenerating and any of the other Demon Gates who eventually get beaten. Some form of backup arrives for Jackal in the form of Sayla, and Macbeth arrives to give Azuma a reprieve from Jackal, who just about overwhelmed him.

            - The Rune Knights are against releasing Hades due to Tartaros raising hell. Still, Ultear makes leverage out of her former Councilwoman status, as one of the remnants of Ishgar’s old guard; she will take full responsibility if all goes wrong, but they NEED his help in this dark houor. Hades is only mildly surprised at his old student’s arrival, and makes no moves to attack once he’s free of his cell, to Simon and Meredy’s shock. Ultear is confused by Hades’ fond attitude towards her and how casually he asks after Rusty, Azuma, and Meredy, but he reveals that this is part of his concessions for being beaten by Makarov and his children. If Fairy Tail is approaching their fallen foes for assistance, then there is only one thing left for Hades to do. He heard from Warrod about Tartaros potentially cannibalizing its allies, and that led Hades to declare their pact with Tartaros ‘broken’; and therefore, reparations were in order. He had little doubt that Fairy Tail would wage war with Tartaros directly… so there was no point in heading there; though he welcomes Ultear, Meredy, and Simon to try if they must. Unable to contain their curiosity (and wariness), they follow Hades to see what he would do instead.   

            - Kyouka makes the same mistake as in canon and kills off Crawford before he can detonate Face remotely. This gives Erza the time to attack her, while she sends Wendy to dismantle Face before one of the Demon Gates can get to it. Kyouka similarly sends Ezel to beat the Sky Dragon Slayer to their prize. Inevitably, Wendy defeats Ezel and dismantles Face, but Mard Geer uses Alegria in retaliation to dispose of the Fairy Tail mages.

            - Lucy has her moment like in canon, Sorano is also a survivor and aids her against Jackal and Torafuzar; there are still seven Demon Gates prowling around, and the Spirit King gets summoned and obliterates Cube, scattering Tartaros’ forces and gaining Mard Geer’s attention.

            - Jackal was going to finish Lucy and Sorano off, but he gets intercepted by Kagura, Sawyer, and Richard, who defeat the Demon Gate in his weakened state. However, Torafuzar shows up to strike them down, and gets intercepted by Gajeel and Rusty Rose. Then Keyes arrives and gets intercepted by Juvia and Erik. Silver arrives and gets intercepted by Gray and Azuma. And finally, Tempester shows up and gets intercepted by Natsu.

            - Silver separates Gray from the pack; and similarly, Natsu separates Tempester from the others when it’s revealed he was the one to contaminate Gramps, Mr. Yajima, and the Thunder Legion; Azuma and Sorano race off to help him out (Sorano briefly having Sawyer carry her to catch up to Natsu). This leaves Gajeel, Kagura, Rusty Rose, Richard, Erik and Juvia to fight Keyes and Torafuzar, to keep them from killing Lucy. Sawyer goes to back up Gray after dropping off Sorano; though the Ice Make mage really isn’t in the mood considering who the enemy before them is. They beat Silver, but Gray quickly learns that if Keyes is defeated, his father will ‘die’; Juvia, Erik, and Richard beat Keyes when the others struggle against his Curse, but that does leave them vulnerable to Torafuzar, so it’s up to Gajeel, Rusty Rose, and Kagura to take him down. They come to discover steel is sharp enough to cut through the demon, and even with Torafuzar flooding the ruins, they manage to strike him down – though unknown to them, Torafuzar barely managed to cling onto life as he lay defeated.

            - Mira and Sayla pick up their battle again, as does Erza and Kyoka. Minerva intercedes on this battle, wishing to get revenge on Erza… But she comes to listen to Erza’s words, and Kyoko mortally wounds her for betraying Tartaros, picking up the battle with Erza in earnest.  Kyoka is defeated by the redhead… And through Macbeth’s timely assist, Mira manages to bring down Sayla, who’s kept alive in a weakened state.

            - After he gets some of the blood needed for Porlyusica, Natsu beats Tempester with Sorano and Azuma’s help (Gray saves them by freezing the Bane Particles in the air). Mard Geer ends up in a stalemate with the Celestial Spirit King, but Lucy’s power runs out, and the King must return to the Spirit World. But before Mard Geer can move on to annihilate the Fairies who have taken out his Nine Demon Gates, he gets confronted by Sting and Rogue, who have charged ahead of their Guild to help out Fairy Tail, while the others try and help take out some of the Faces that have recently risen up.

            - In Magnolia, Hades and co. arrive at the ruins of the Fairy Tail Guild Hall, where he goes to ‘release the light’ in order to deal with the Faces. Ultear, Simon, and Meredy are hesitant when Hades clarifies what Lumen Histoire – or rather, Fairy Heart is. Ultear recognizes the unstable weapon that Fairy Heart is, and orders Hades to desist with his plans; there is a tense standoff with Hades and Ultear as he declares it to be the only way to stop the Faces. Hades muses that Ultear has soiled her hands in blood before, she has no excuse to hold back when an entire continent is riding on this. Ultear fires back that unleashing a veritable bomb like Fairy Heart could crush Magnolia and all the towns around it if used… Hades declares it to be a numbers game at that point; a few towns versus a whole continent, who would you save? But Ultear is not moved; the moment you treat any human lives as mere sacrifices for the “greater good”, you become one with the darkness you swore to fight against. Hades asks how Ultear can follow that thorny path of light when she herself has already committed so many atrocities… And she explains that it was thanks to being exposed to Natsu and Gray… Though ultimately, it was Zeref himself who pointed out the uselessness and futility of Grimoire Heart’s endeavors, how all their “sacrifices” of countless people were just the mad ravings of cultists, not a single sacrifice was worth what they were building towards. Being with Natsu and Gray… and Fairy Tail as a whole… She was filled with a warmth that the Balam Alliance stole her away from just because she was “useful”. Hades does not deny his part in dragging her down to the darkness with him; he’s merely floored that she could rise up again in spite of everything. Even Meldy possesses a vitality that she hadn’t while a part of Grimoire Heart, and it’s jarring to bear witness to. For these reasons, he uses a spell to mentally nudge Simon to get Ultear and Meldy far away from here; it’s a dirty trick, but Ultear misunderstands his intentions as Hades merely stuck in his ways. Even with Simon teleporting them out of Magnolia, toward the ruins of Tartaros, Ultear rushes back on-foot to stop Hades… But her sinking stomach is a good indicator that even she knows she’ll be too late to stop him. Still… Hades only uses Fairy Heart to systematically obliterate all of the Faces scattered around the continent. And much to Ultear’s shock, the immense power doesn’t flatten Magnolia, it’s a controlled scatter-blast that she can’t help but be amazed by. … But when she manages to get back to Fairy Tail’s ruins… She finds Hades on his deathbed. Fairy Heart didn’t take any lives… because he made himself a catalyst for unleashing the potent magic. And no mere human can handle that much power, not for very long… And Hades was already frail because his Devil’s Heart was so weakened.  In the end, Hades was always going to sacrifice himself; it was his atonement to Mavis and Makarov… But hearing Ultear so passionate, so determined to do the right thing… Precht became confident and unwavering in his decision. He forsakes the name Hades in his final moments, reluctantly accepting his original name once more. Precht implores Ultear to help Erza look after the guild… Even Makarov has retired, so Precht has no business sticking his nose in their business anymore. It's time for a new generation to make its mark on the world, and he can only hope that his mistakes have not doomed Mavis’s guild. In spite of her resolve to not cry for Precht breathing his last… Ultear sheds many tears. Even if he used her, Precht had still taken her in; taught her magic, allowed her to take care of Meldy… She will never forgive the Balam Alliance for separating her from her mother, but like it or not she had a bond with Precht. He was the closest thing to a father that she ever had… Makarov picked up where he left off, but Precht had been there first. She weeps over Precht’s death… But thanks him for saving everyone.

            - Enraged at the plan completely falling apart, Mard Geer aims to eliminate both Fairy Tail and Sabertooth for interfering, but his puppet Jiemma gets taken down by Sting and Rogue, and he himself gets taken down by Natsu and Gray. They think they’ve won, but Acnologia descends, and the Dragon of the Apocalypse once more proves to be too much for the members of Fairy Tail. It is only when Igneel emerges from Natsu that they seem to stand a fighting chance; even moreso when Grandeeney, Metalicana, Weisslogia, and Skiadrum emerge from Wendy, Gajeel, Sting, and Rogue. As the dragons fight to save Fairy Tail and their allies, Zeref also arrives on the scene. He congratulates Natsu and Fairy Tail on defeating his library… Mard Geer is severely weakened after losing, but he makes a last ditch effort to summon END by opening the book, seal be damned he needed to TRY. Zeref, Natsu, and Gray are all shocked at this desperate move as opening the Book causes magic seals to burst out into the air relentlessly and for Natsu’s memories to return to him, and Zeref quickly becomes enraged at Mard Geer. He turns the Demon King back into a book, but before he can incinerate Mard Geer… Natsu gets in his way. Tartaros was HIS guild long ago, and though his memories are just returning he won’t let Zeref do as he pleases anymore. Fairy Tail and countless others have suffered because of Zeref, and this needs to end now. Still, Zeref manages to reclaim the book and seal it shut once more before Natsu can regain too much of his past and powers. This puts Natsu back in an amnesiac state, and Zeref puts Gray to sleep after wiping his memories of this encounter as well. It certainly wouldn’t do for either Natsu or Gray to remember any of this… He considers executing Mard Geer for overstepping his bounds… Yet to honor how far Natsu has come, he spares the Demon King. Tartaros is in shambles, and likely won’t pose a problem to him in the coming war. He restores Mard Geer to his humanoid form, and departs in a fateful gust of wind.

            - Despite the numbers, Acnologia still massacres his five enemy dragons and then leaves without annihilating the Fairy Tail members (though notably, Igneel still tore off Acnologia’s arm). In their dying moments, the dragons impart the truth of what they did to their Dragon Slayers, and Natsu still retains a bit of Igneel’s power. Natsu experiences Igneel’s farewell in a dream, which he rushes to wake up from and go to his dad… But it’s too late. Igneel fades away…

- Fairy Tail regroups, and Erza learns that Fairy Heart was used by Hades, which initially makes her furious that Ultear ALLOWED him to do something so reckless… But when she hears Ultear’s account, she grimly accepts that Precht managed to do something noble in the end. It doesn’t erase all of his sins that he committed over the past decades…  But without his sacrifice, Face would have activated and left them vulnerable to Tartaros and Acnologia. Meredy, Rusty Rose, and Azuma take Precht’s death pretty hard… But Azuma was fully aware the old man didn’t have much longer anyway. There’s no shame in dying like Precht did.

            - Even so, Magnolia is in tatters from Tartaros crashing nearby, the Guild Hall is obliterated, and both Zeref and Acnologia are still threats on the horizon. Unbeknownst to Fairy Tail, Mard Geer has gathered Sayla, Torafuzar, and Franmalth and bitterly departed the town. Unlike Natsu and Gray, Mard Geer is able to recollect some of his memories when Zeref appeared… He knows that through his last ditch action, the Dragon Slayer Natsu was affected by the Book of END. … Meaning that Natsu is the Master they’ve been searching for. Mard Geer already deduced why they were all “returning” to Zeref, but the final piece they were missing was END, and he was right there. And now that the Demons of Tartaros remember their ultimate goal, it makes their clash with Fairy Tail all the more bitter, wasteful, and frustrating. They never should have fought the Fairies… Mard Geer in particular is furious. Not because they killed senselessly; he could care less about that… At least if it had led to accomplishing their ultimate goal. But all that came out of this venture was their forces getting obliterated, barely a third of the Demon Gates remaining. Master END was right there all along, Fairy Tail was his new home. Mard Geer has no business facing their Master, not when he won’t even understand or remember that they were allies… But the four of them will not cause trouble for Natsu anymore. They will leave Fairy Tail alone. … And they will raze Zeref utterly and completely, as they were designed for that task alone. Franmalth, Torafuzar, and Sayla all echo his determination, all having distant memories of their Master and how they were all comrades in arms. For Natsu to fall into the hands of Fairy Tail… It makes sense, given how much of a family they are. Sayla especially misses her Master… But they brought this on themselves, and must carry on alone.

            - Makarov attempts to advise Erza to disband Fairy Tail, as he knows precisely who their next big enemy will be, aside from Zeref and Acnologia. However, Erza declines his advice on several grounds. For one, they pretty much splintered the Balam Alliance; all that’s left is to hunt down the remaining minor Guilds, who will be in disarray now. Secondly, Tartaros affected them deeply – they needed each other more than ever. Thirdly, by keeping the Guild united after this struggle, they will give hope to Fiore and all of Ishgar as a whole. Whatever looming threat may be on the horizon, they can take it together. Makarov is impressed by her resolve, though he goes on to tell her just what has him so worried. Yet despite telling her this, Erza remains confident in her decision; Makarov once more leaves the Guild in her capable hands and goes off to Alvarez to buy Fairy Tail as much time as he can.

            - Erza, Ryo, and Mikoto comfort both Natsu and Wendy for their losses; Levy comforts Gajeel and Lucy; and Juvia comforts Gray. Like Makarov, the Thunder Legion and Yajima made full recoveries. Having experienced crushing defeats before, the former Oracion Seis and Grimoire Heart members help Fairy Tail to bounce back. Sorano helps comfort Lucy; Sawyer, Macbeth, Richard, Wally, Erik, Kinana, Rusty Rose, and Azuma help with construction efforts; Meredy comforts Juvia and Gray; Ultear comforts both Gray and Natsu. Yukino hears about what happened with Aquarius and Lucy, and also stops on by to comfort her with Sorano. Minerva rejoins Sabertooth, tearfully overwhelmed at the warm welcome she receives; in the coming days, she and Sting go to Yukino to properly apologize for her father excommunicating her from Sabertooth. Sting’s already apologized plenty, but it means a lot that Minerva is making an effort, and Yukino reiterates she’s still happy with Mermaid Heel… But she knows that they’ll make Sabertooth into a better guild. Flare, Blue Pegasus, Lamia Scale, and Quatro Cerberus send Fairy Tail their condolences for their losses… It takes Ultear some time, but she gets the Guild Hall back to its original state, and restores much of Magnolia as well. There are still mental and emotional scars from this latest conflict, but for the most part the physical damage is taken care of… Erza approaches Simon, Meldy, and Ultear since they’re the only other ones besides her and Natsu that know about Fairy Heart. Makarov would force them to forget about the guild’s greatest secret… But with Mest gone, there’s not a way for Erza to make them forget; nor would Erza want to do that, even if she was able to. Erza knows the Fairy Heart must remain top secret, but she trusts Natsu, Simon, Meldy, and Ultear to not go spreading it around. The rest of the continent is unaware of the exact circumstances of Face getting wiped off the map, and Erza intends on keeping it that way; if she had it her way, Fairy Heart would be dismantled and the First Master properly buried… Alas, Erza doesn’t even know where to begin with those efforts. She’s tried breaking through the crystal before, but it’s going to take a lot of power to wreck it… And with the guild recently restored, Erza’s not in a mood to attempt destroying the crystal. They just… need to keep it a secret a while longer. Everyone has a lot of work ahead of them, more threats to deal with… But Fairy Tail is ready to face the future together.

[minusgangtime]

TW: descriptions of body horror and gore.

Sprunki crew horror body conditions.

Shelby (survivor)

Nala (missing hands and eyes)

Casper (torn out wings.)

Midnight (torn out ears and tail,burnt skin and missing one eye.)

Pinkie (torn open)

Temp (survivor)

Sunny (burnt)

Simba (head cracked open)

Herb (eyes popped out)

Seasalt (suffocation)

Lavender (mouth torn out.)

Blaze (burnt)

Snow ( got monocromed)

Nightfall (skin torn apart.)

Galaxy (survived)

Penny (chopped apart

Sweetie ( stomach torn open)

Coral (torn out arms)

Shade (eyes sliced.)

Kiara (survivor)

Thunder (head cracked open.)

Oreo (brain torn out.)

Cloud (insides and hair torn out.)

Snowball (teeth and eyes torn out)

Flambé (burnt)

Ella (mouth ripped out and crown stabbed into head.)

Leo (pipes stabbed into him.)

Elly (survivor,covered in blood.)

Lapis (torn open,carved smile and eyes torn out.)

Zack (eyes torn out.)

Emreld (legs and arms torn out.)

Xavier (survivor)

Eda (survivor)

Ghost (survivor)

Cali (survivor.)

German Shepard - gallace (one half of his face torn out.)

Bulldog -Chase (heart missing.)

Golden retriever - Goldie (mouth torn out)

Husky -cookie (survivor)

Chuwalla-rascal (legs and mouth torn out)

Wiener dog -biscuit (legs torn out)

Bichon (poofy pooch) -marshmallow (most hair torn out/revealed brain)

Pomeranian -Cheeto (legs and mouth torn out.)

Yorkshire terrier -buck (legs torn out)

Corgi - pixie (tail snd ears torn out)

Sheltie-Sadie (hair torn out/exposed brain)

Shiba Inu-janko (tail torn out,slit throat)

Samoyed-taffy (torn out hair/exposed brain)

Poodle -jewel (torn out hair/brain exposed,torn out legs)

Australian shepered-Brutus (arms and legs torn out.)

Chow chow-crunchie (hair torn out/exposed brain)

Cavalier king- Charles (ears torn out.)

Black pup-spot (slit throat.)

Alaskan malamute -Everest (cracked open head.)

Bernese mountain dog-toasty (torn off feet.)

Lollipop (head impaled on bars)

Derpy (eyes torn out)

Bloom (survivor)

Inkie (missing skin)

Blinkie (arms chopped off.)

Minkie (eyeless and wide toothy grin.)

Onyx (survivor)

Thomas (deadname: Sarah) (face torn off.)

Maud (eyes torn out.)

Crimson (cut open)

Sugar (cut open.)

Mulan (deadname: moldo) (legs cut off.)

Babs (survivor)

Kiki (key stabbed deep into head)

Stella (skinless and carved open.)

Cascade (shot several times.)

Cupcake (missing insides and eyes.)

Lily (flowers in eyes)

Blossom (skin ripped off face)

Rouge (ripped off tail and arms)

Diane (hung)

Hazel (plants growing out of body)

Starry (burn marks and eyes missing)

Izzy (exploded head)

Zippy (half of head missing.)

Swirl (mouth torn out)

Misty (heart missing and bloody eyes)

Poochi (eyes and mouth torn out)

Aqua (insides ripped out)

Nova (missing eyes)

Skye (legs missing)

Cosmo (face ripped out)

Nimona (survivor)

Zapp (missing arms)

Amber (burnt)

Celeste (broken apart)

Gloopy (survivor)

Aurora (missing eyes)

Petal (roots coming out mouth and eyes)

Maleficent (survivor)

Dory (survivor)

Smolder (horns and wings torn out)

Breezy (wings abd eyes torn out.)

Bella (wings and arms torn out)

Frost (torn open)

Pollen (nose and mouth skin gone)

Quartz (torn open)

Flour (survivor)

Clover (eyes hanging on roots)

Nova (eye area torn apart)

s’mores (survivor)

cocoa (survivor)

moon (face skin removed)

Scott (head trama/brain revealed)

Vress (tail ripped out)

Tuxie (eyes and teeth ripped out)

Screwball (half face gone)

Rattle (slit throat and missing tail)

Wallace (eyes missing)

Willow (covered in metal bars)

Mars (survived)

Sammy (survived)

Rosie (survived)

Dumbo (survived)

Eve (survived)

Molly (survived)

Glimmer (bottom half gone)

Ray (missing arms)

Nothing (survived)

Feather (survived)

Hover (survived)

Peppermint (missing legs)

Cozy (survived)

Fruity pebbles-flint (bloody eyes/cracked head)

Coco pebbles-pebbles (missing eyes)

Coco puffs-puffy (insane and bloody)

Crunch-calico (cracked open head)

Apple Jacks-applejack (missing eyes/carved smile mouth)

Corn flakes-chipper (beheaded)

Frosted Flakes-frosty (shot)

Lucky charms-charmy (cut open/drained of color)

Honey Nut Cheerios-honey (torn off wings and tail)

Hash brown-luke (skinned)

Pancake-fluffy (head cracked open and several cuts)

Waffles-cubic (missing arm,half tail is gone and head cracked open)

Coffee-decaf (missing eyes)

Frapeechino-Java ( torn open)

Poptart-fruity (half face gone)

Rice crispy treats-Maria (shot)

Glazed donut-glaze (gaping mouth)

Frosted donut-frosting (torn open)

PB and J sandwitch-jelly (half skin gone)

Ham and cheese sandwitch-Gouda (sliced head)

Blue Doritos-spices (holes all over body)

Doritos-spicy (burnt)

Lays-salter (face torn off)

Fritos-twirl (spine out of body)

Cheetos-tigress (torn out leg and bite marks)

Popcorn-butter (head trama/bloody head/body)

Grilled cheese-jaffle (melted eyes/bloody)

Fries-Louis (burnt)

White rice-grain (bite marks everywhere)

Corn dog-Apollo (torn open head)

Pudding-pudding (melted eyes/bloody)

Spagettios-raggy (head trans/bloody)

Mac n cheese-cheesy (boiled)

Spaghetti-noodle (hung)

Chicken-crispy (burnt)

Burger-Mac (torn open)

Chicken nuggets-Nuggies (survivor)

Quesadillas-Antonio (torn open/blood pouring out)

Pizza-ceesers (covered in holes)

Cheese pizza-cheddar (partially skinned)

Pineapple pizza-domino (survivor)

Pasta-pasta (partially skinned)

Hot dog-cinder (burnt)

Diet Coke/pepsi-cole (allergic reaction/stomach burst open)

Fanta-Fanta (covered in holes)

Root beer-float (torn open)

DR pepper-pepper (bloody head/covered in holes)

Beer-helga (torn open/cracked open head)

Hot chocolate-steamy (torn off hands and burnt)

Tea-melody (stabbed)

Milk-milky (survivor)

Sprite-sprite (stomach burst open)

Gatoraid-suprise (survivor)

Smores-cracker (melted eyes)

Cookies-chip (bite marks on body,holes all over body)

M&Ms-lulu (gapping mouth)

Skittles-rainbow (bleeding eyes,mouth and nose)

Chocolate ice cream-brownie (melted eyes)

Vanilla ice cream-cream (clear bleeding eyes)

Mint ice cream-minty (holes all over body)

Cookies and cream-reo (torn open)

Peanut butter and chocolate-luz (half skeleton)

Chocolate milk shake-yogurt (frostbite/bloody eyes)

Vanilla milk shake-vanilla (bloody)

Reese’s-Reese’s (head cracked open)

Milkyway-Carmel (organs hanging out.)

Milk duds-bean (cuts on body)

Jelly beans-chewy (bitten off skin,bloody eyes.)

Butterfingers-butterfinger (scratched)

100 grand-trixie (holes in skin/hanging organs)

Twix-twister (ripped off arms)

Swirl ice cream-Neapolitan (half skeleton)

Lava cake-magma (melted eyes and bleeding head)

Candy corn-candy (carved open)

Mint cookies-Lyra (head cracked open)

Swamp fever-petunia (flowers spurting out of eye)

Poison joke-indigo (survivor)

Imposter parasite-fungle (exposed mouth flesh)

Black tree virus-ivy (ripped out arms)

Mushroom infection-mushy (ripped apart face skin)

Metal virus-silver (survivor)

Immortal infliction-rarity (survivor)

Phantom ruby-infinite (survivor)

Cyberspace-sage (survivor)

Frankenstein-frank (torn off limbs)

Panther-Luna (survivor)

Lynx-Celia (survivor)

Caracal-susano (survivor)

Alien kitty-vee (survivor)

Tiny fluffy cat with tiny legs-squishy (legs removed.)

Siamese cat-sable (legs and eyes removed)

Munchkin kitty- munchie (arms and legs removed)

Trans kitty-belle (head cracked open)

Lesbian kitty-ruby (burnt)

Asexual kitty-violet (hung,eyes removed)

Aroace-Ari (run over,sliced open)

Bisexual-twilight (spine sticking out of back.)

Aromantic-matcha (head cracked open,one eye missing.)

Gay cat (blue)-pretzel (snapped off tail and broken leg)

Gay cat (rainbow) -pickle (missing eyes)

Genderfluid cat-cadence (sliced head and missing arms.)

Nonbinary cat-Bao (missing eyes.)

Poly cat-yuno (shot in the head,half head missing,chest is open)

Pansexual cat: pancake (tail and ears are torn off.)

Eevee shiny: Sophia (mouth skin is missing,tail is missing and half her hair is ripped out.)

Espeon: espurr (shot in the head,one tail is ripped out.)

Leafeon: leafy (vines are sprouting from eyes and tail is missing.)

Umbreon: umbra (survived)

Jolteon: bolt (ears are torn out,tail and hair were pulled out.)

Vaporeon: Ariel (tail and gills were ripped out)

Flareon: flare (burnt)

Glaceon: glacier (icicles impale the body.)

Sylveon: twinkle (survivor)

Ghost: obsidian (survivor

Rock: marble (arm and ear are broken off.)

Cloud: eclipse (survivor)

Fighting: bandana (deep scratches are where his bandannas once were,ripped out eyes.)

Poison:limestone (survivor)

Ground: peaches (arms and tail ripped off.)

Dragon:spiky (survivor)

Bug: flutter (antennas and wings ripped off.)

Steel: rocky (survivor)

Bonus: all the gangs kids also survived without a scratch thanks to there parents brave efforts..

-mod shelby

(Lemme join in on this, even tho we already know what happened

Beta - Victim, Got cuts all over his body

MB - Victim, Hung by a rope by his neck

Blue - Survivor(?), Has a tire mark on his body but is unfazed since he's already dead

Pico - Victim, Got shot multiple times

Girlfriend - Survivor, Has no injuries cuz- demon and was able to escape)