#among us unknown parasite

[fancytigercupcake]

Dragon Guardian Angel Emma and Unknown Parasite Emma 🌺🌺🌺✨✨✨💖💖💖

[princepv]

I was extremely embarrassed to finally publish it, because it seemed to me a banal cringe to interfere in this

maverick moon is one of fresh's parasites, initially not having any difference from the others.

at some point fresh visits the alternate universe of the grease maker, leaving some of the parasites there with the aim of temporarily infecting this place.

surprisingly, moon was unlucky to be there: all of his gathered after some time could not withstand the atmosphere filled with nicotine, smoke and other harmful masses.

in turn, he managed to survive in an unknown way for himself - the parasite is broken by the world itself, forcing him to unconsciously copy some codes and replace them in his own with new ones.

the parasite not only gained sanity, but also lost the ability to further infect au, received a tendency to deny the need to live and dark obsessive dreams.

from that moment on he ceases to be just an ordinary parasite, giving himself a name.

due to the inferiority caused by the lack of reproduction of his own kind, he experiences an instinct to care for his fellows, especially those who are unable to stand up for themselves for some reason.

a vagabond junk dealer who steals all sorts of junk and resells it. takes "under his wing" the weak or those living out their last hours of life parasites.

an extremely weak creature - not capable of the same quick reaction as others, smaller in size than most and has only a couple of pistols as a weapon.

however, collecting parasites plays into his hands - he is able to set them on the attacker or scatter them across worlds, as Fresh usually does with his own.

he can be considered a "scavenger" - Mun mainly grabs the bodies of creatures who are barely able to live, literally taking the soul's magic completely for himself. unlike other parasites, he does not let go of the victim until death.

prone to drinking alcoholic beverages, especially vodka. alcohol in any other form, like all parasites - despises. No, there shouldn't have been a joke about the emphasis on vodka, it's just extremely harsh in taste.

he also considers forbidden herbs obscene.

however, he is seen smoking weak cigars from time to time.

small facts

he drinks not because of the desire to seem somehow cool - he wants to distract himself, at least for a while, from heavy thoughts.

like most parasites, Moon has practically no feelings and emotions that are not feigned by him. The exceptions are: fear, rage and awareness of worthlessness.

despite his poor moral state, he continues to look cheerful and positive, will not miss the opportunity to joke or say something for fun.

collecting parasites for himself, he not only uses them for some kind of self-defense, but also treats each one with reverence, showing a sincere desire to take care of them, but does not even remember the death of one or another of his brothers.

He has an extremely low timbre of voice. Something comparable to the sound of a contrabass

his name can be shortened to MaM, which makes a small reference to his unconscious desire to take care of one of his (just replace the letter a with o)

he tried to dye his hair black, but the natural shade still showed through on his hair

he carries a lot of parasites under his clothes, gets along with everyone, and is the "dominant" one among them

Its camouflage is poor due to the fact that it absorbs relatively little energy due to its size and corrupted code. By itself, it is planned as a character ready to "take under the wing" any of the other brothers, including RetroRock shipkids.

[sanctus-ingenium]

What role/niche do dragons fulfill in their environment? Or, if that is [secret]/redacted/Unknown [by universe parameters], are there other, smaller beasts - creatures not within our world, but common in theirs?

I've been meaning to draw a lot of these for a while now and this was a nice prompt thank you :)

Dragons support a large and surprisingly diverse community of animals. The primary producers are the unique photosynthetic cyanobacteria which are found lining the transparent flotation sacs of cloud fleas. 'Cloud fleas' can refer to any type of airborne zooplankton - that is, animals which do not actively fly but rather drift. Pictured is a daphnia type but there are a few others. The bacteria produce lighter than air gases as a byproduct of photosynthesis as well as nutrients for their hosts. The daphnia type pictured retain their large claws and use them to cling onto other individuals, sometimes producing really large structures which can form fantastic shapes at times. This is how they reproduce also (unlike in the water, they can't just externally fertilise eggs because gravity exists)

When they aggregate in large numbers (swarms reaching billions and billions of individuals), they become easy prey for dragons. The dragons capture the fleas using a dense array of rictal bristles. Living in and among the bristles are the monkey birds, a unique species of flightless bird which act as kleptoparasites, stealing the clumps of fleas bound up in dragon mucous before they can be transported to the dragon's mouth. The bristles are so dense that in order to get in there where the fleas are most concentrated, you wouldn't be able to fly. They spend their lives clinging among the bristles with their feet and wing claws, and they make their nests out of woven strands of mucous. New individuals join the birds' colonies when dragons are mating and their bristles come into contact with one another. Bird populations are controlled by hive serpents, who pick them off for a nice snack.

Barnacles and other filter-feeders are common on the windward-facing side of the dragon (what you'd call the front of the dragon). These do not harm the dragons and offer not much useful food for serpents while being very annoying to eat so they're usually left to their own devices.

The vampire chiton exoparasites can be found basically all over a dragon. They find a piece of cuticle that is thin enough to pierce and drill their siphons down into it to suck the watery connective tissue beneath. They are about a foot long and the main food source for hive serpents.

The serpents themselves are mammals. Nearly every dragon hosts a hive. Despite spending most of their lives on their hosts, they are quite strong fliers; they need to be, in order for the young queens to set out to make their own hives. The 'hive' consists of a reproductive pair and 20-50 of their offspring, with the queen being 1.5x larger than the others and by far the most aggressive. They have one tooth, a single elongated tusk which is used like a crowbar to lever the chitons off the dragon's cuticle. When working on the underside of a dragon, it takes a certain amount of skill to catch the chiton before it falls away. The serpent's neck and legs are very strong to produce enough force to dislodge a chiton, which are often so deeply attached that a human with a pickaxe would struggle to knock one off. The chiton is swallowed whole, and the shell digested.

Serpents viciously defend their dragons, controlling parasite populations and fighting off and attacking humans or large metal creatures they perceive as a threat. The name 'serpent' is given to them in the Mezian theocracy because they are associated with sin; hive serpents can be among the most dangerous combatants a holy beast might face. When the dragon has been killed, its serpents will flee and, more often than not, restart their hive on the ground if they aren't killed first. Outside of the theocracy, humans do raise serpents and use them for various tasks - a baby queen is taken from the wild (by killing every other hive member) and raised to imprint on humans. If their diets are not heavily supplemented with calcium carbonate, they fail to thrive.

[feralplantwife]

Erzsebet Bathory- Thematic Character Analysis

I've seen a lot of posts about Erzsebet Bathory, and the general sense is that while her design is cool, she's not very well-developed or impressive from a character standpoint. I agree... Somewhat.

I'm going to get into it below, but the TL;DR version is that from a characterization standpoint, she is weak, but from a thematic standpoint, she is Everything.

Disclaimer: I have not been fortunate enough to play any of the games, so this analysis will focus solely on the show. <3

First, what do vampires mean in storytelling?

A vampire can symbolize many things, but here are the big three: they're a representation of the Other, the unknown (kind of like Frankenstein's Monster), but they can also be a manifestation of carnal, sinful, or deviant desires (think Dorian Grey). The one I'm going to focus on here, as it's the most relevant, is the third main type: the Parasite. Vampires are bloodsucking, gluttonous, selfish starving monsters that consume and consume until there is nothing left (think Robert Baratheon).

This was a theme that was explored in the first series with the Church's opulence and their desire to sacrifice innumerable human lives for the sake of their image and power. Carmilla is the same, but in contention with the Church.

This theme is expanded upon beautifully in Nocturne, with the French Revolution bourgeoise and American colonization and slave trade building upon the themes of the first series. Olrex talks about his home being destroyed, his lover's people being exterminated but holding onto his identity even in undeath. Annette holds onto her Yoruban faith and her Creole heritage taught to her by her mother and fellows even after generations of cultural genocide at the hands of her masters- a combination of more than one old indigenous faith and newer conglomerations of the same. (In this way, one could say that Erzsebet Bathory and Annette are foils!)

How does Erzsebet Bathory fit into this thematically?

Let me explain it like this: Erzsebet Bathory is a white woman dripping in stylized opulence who swallowed an Egyptian god. The truest enemy in this series is colonialism: the consumption of everything and everyone that isn't white and Christian to expand white and Christian ideals and desires using God as a face for their misdeeds- the consumption of people, land, culture, religion, knowledge, kindness. What could not be consumed was destroyed.

In this way, Erzsebet Bathory is the manifestation of all the greatest evils people of color and minorities have ever faced, and continue to face today: that of homogenization, exploitation, and destruction.

The fact that this is expanded by her vampiric elitism builds upon this idea by including all human beings. It's open knowledge among many anthropological circles that colonization destroyed a lot of technology, culture, and knowledge, has held society back, and continues to lead to unnecessary and painful struggle among society (largely due to that fact that many developed nations' governments are still being run by vampires today- how are all my fellow Americans doing as we barrel toward a government shutdown for this very reason?).

Erzsebet Bathory signifies the consumption of the human spirit and the death of mankind, wrapped up in a beautifully terrifying amalgam of every single sin the colonizers ever committed. She's not the ultimate character of Nocturne by a long shot, but she is the ultimate monster.

[alairroux]

Again a week late, but, to my defence. Adulting is hard and I hate it more with each passing year. This chapter is a little bit of a rant at some places, but I hope it all stil fits toghether.

In this chpater I'm trying to finally get back to main course of this fanfiction instead of focusing on the girls. They'll be back, though.

Chapter XVI

"Human-like"

“So, what do we have here?” 

One of the scientists asked, looking at a massive spreadsheet. It looked almost ancient, like it laid something in the archive for way too long to be considered something valuable. After all, they needed to update their information as often as possible. 

“I dug around and found it, it matches the DNA strands we managed to take from that weird thing from the girl. It shouldn’t be possible though, IT has been gone for centuries now, and it died on a completely different version of Earth. Not even this one.” 

The scientist stepped closer to the spreadsheet. His eyes drifted over to “The Perceiver” written in bold letters. Now, that was a problem. That much was clear but it was getting worse as time passed it seemed. Perceiver was one of the Concepts, one of the rulers of multiverse, or even a rule itself. Rule of perception.  Its death went loud among many universes, causing a huge disruption at first, toying with ability to perceive things. Quickly it solved itself out, and luckily they didn’t have to intervene, but it was supposed to stay gone after the forces came back to normal, probably someone else filling in its role. They searched for any traces of its energy, to make sure it's really gone or if it was reborn. For centuries there was nothing and suddenly they got something. A parasite with residue of that DNA. This wasn’t good. Concepts are not reborn, they strive for destruction until only one of them, the strongest one is left. So something had to go terribly wrong that day. 

“You think she might be Its new form? Descendant? Something like this?”

“Highly doubt it. Her DNA is not matching at all to It. Only from that weird thing, parasite. We tried to pull them apart, but it almost caused her to crash and then we observed that it greatly enhances her aggression if we try to pull it away from her body. Like they’re combined on many more levels than just physical.” 

A little hum of acknowledgement. So it wasn’t a reborn form. At least it was good that they could clear that out. It was good, not only because it meant that what they caught and let go into the Void wasn’t a reborn Concept, but also because it meant that a Concept roaming this Earth was very unlikely. 

As long as Concepts stayed in their planes, taking care of rules they had in their hands, everything was usually going smoothly and overall nice. The problem was born, when Concept decided to indwell with humans. Usually it was to teach humans a lesson, a very valuable and bloody one. Each Concept looked completely different from one another, but there was one thing they shared among themselves. They had six pairs of wings. Three big ones, behind their back that could’ve been used as additional functional limbs, not only capable of flying, and three smaller ones on their heads, used to cover multiple eyes. 

It was believed that looking into the eyes of a Concept is an opportunity to learn unknown and ancient facts about the universe, but also almost instant death, as no mind is capable of taking in and comprehending that amount of knowledge. So these ten meters tall creatures cover their eyes to protect those who don’t deserve death. They had a different level of understanding that, it wasn’t pity, it wasn’t mercy, it was simple judgement. You do or do not deserve to die, to be gutted inside out without a single incision. That must have been terrifying. Not only witnessing such monstrosity, but face it and die in almost an instant for others, but probably dying for years on your own, feeling each and every neuron pulled apart, while learning answers to every question that was already asked or was meant to be asked in the future. Beautiful but terrifying death. 

Out of all the angry Concepts, Perceiver was probably the worst. Sure, It had beautiful wings to cover Its eyes, but so what? Its body was covered in various eyes peering right into your soul, as soon as Its rage began. Multitude of color snatching souls and lives in seconds, monstrosity that didn’t even wield a weapon like others do. Its gaze was Its weapon, the worst of them all, the quickest and sharpest. Because how are you supposed to avoid the overseeing gaze? You can’t. You can;t run and hide, you can’t just cover your eyes, because you’re not fast enough as soon as it appears, you’re dead. They had few images of the not yet woken up Perceiver. Tall, pale figure with majestic wings covered in even more eyes, broken halo, floating around Its neck like a broken collar, gleaming with red light, sharp claws and fangs, It was beautiful but deadly. It was hard to admit, but the TVA among the whole multiverse took a breath of relief as soon as it had fallen. And it was believed that despite its deadliness, Perceiver was the weakest among all the Concepts, weak link of the entire race. It was paralyzing to even think what the others were capable of. The highest rank was held by the Order, Concept of Concepts. Then Matter, Energy and Oblivion. Creators and the  destroyer. Then Gravity, Velocity and Space, holders of existence. And Perception the last, ability to see and judge. All of them also had Veils on their eyes, another layer of protection from the deadly eyes, but once the Veil is torn off, only the wings remain. 

“Then, why was it found in part of her? The infested part?” 

He asked after finally pulling himself out of that rehearsal over the Concepts. 

“We don’t know yet. We’re still working on it. Maybe it’s some sort of contamination? It doesn’t appear to power her up or anything like that. Maybe giver her broader field of vision, but she’s still lacking in fields like strength, speed, no healing whatsoever. I doubt there’s anything really worrying, but…” 

“But?”

“If we’ve found some sort of remains of It, I think we should still report back to the Boss. After all, we've sent the contaminated test subject to the Void, if Cassandra catches onto it… We might have a way harder time stopping her, than the last time.” 

The silence was heavy and suddenly, everything seemed much more serious than just a moment ago. They were pretty used to thinking that Cassandra was gone, and sometimes, just sometimes, they still tended to forget that she was very much back, and still seeped with the same hatred as before.

In the meantime, Alice and Cassandra were back in the Void. The sun was shining through, focused on Alice’s hands as she continued to cut paper into strips to make more paper stars. It was clear that the hangover got to her, not having any mercy on her poor mind and body. She was squinting her eyes each time a bit too much light hit her, causing another spark of headache to hit her and make her regret existing at all. 

“Care to explain anything?” 

“Don’t yell.” Alice huffed at Cassandra. “I have nothing to explain, I also have no idea what happened and now I feel terrible.” 

She sort of curled up into herself, pulling her feet up to rest them on the chair as well, hoping that this will help. She was nauseous, but Alice would rather tear through the fabric of time, thread by thread, than throw up. Nu-uh, no one will force her to do that. She moved the paper strips swiftly in her hands, it was almost a muscle memory for her to make those stars. Great thing to do when you want to pull on your own skin and hurt yourself, it was keeping both her mind and hands busy. 

Cassandra just scoffed in reply. This was ridiculous. She wasn’t even yelling! And she just wanted to learn more about what she saw. About what she went through. It’s not everyday that you just get teleported into Oblivion, even higher rank nothingness than the Void. It was amazing, even if they didn’t manage to stay there for long and ended up in some stupid forest, had to walk back all this way and in the meantime Alice got her hangover. Terrible trip.  Now it was only getting worse, watching this girl indulge in something so pointless was almost hurtful for Cassandra to watch, but she decided to go quiet for a bit longer, to ensure that her little lab rat will feel better before that talk. 

Minutes passed by, filled with distant sounds of chatting people outside and the little sounds of paper being weaved like some kind of fabric. Slowly, Alice was feeling slightly better, the hangover slowly passing, leaving her tired and a little uneasy, but at least not in pain anymore. She was still focused on making the stars, but her mind seemed to be somewhere away. Her eyes empty, unfocused, almost glazed over, she wasn’t there with her mind, wandering countless paths in her mind. 

“I can’t remember much from yesterday, but I can sure remember something that was deeply rooted in your mind. “ She spoke suddenly, turning to face Cassandra and tilting her head a bit to the side. “Why do you want to become more human?” 

That question caught Cassandra slightly off guard. How was she supposed to respond to that? She couldn’t really explain that desire at all, but she wanted to become something more human to fool them better, to leave this dump and destroy humanity from the inside out after time. And to do that, she had to become more human, more deceiving, a better copy of what she had left after her brother. 

“For now there’s only one thing you carry as good as humanity.”

“And what would that be?” Cassandra asked, almost taunting. 

“Brutality.” 

That was another surprise, something she didn’t really expect to hear probably ever. Brutality? How were humans brutal? They were defenseless, weak creatures. 

“I know what you think. Them? Brutal? Having no powers and being brutal? But yes, yes they are. One of the worst I fear. Killing just for the sake of killing, or even worse, for fun. Taking lives of innocent, just for beliefs or just to do it, to show who holds the real power. Animals, babies, elderly. Anyone who is inconvenient, the hatred they spread is more successful than any other poison, because it seeps through everything. Through words, air, water, even through screen, aiming right for the hearts of those who weren;t yet consumed to the last bit of them. And anything forbid you to have a different skin color, beliefs or your sexual orientation varies from the standard cis-het label.” Alice shook her head with a forced, sad laugh. Her eyes focused on the paper stars again. “Don’t you dare be disabled, even worse don’t you dare have an invisible from the  outside disability, and when you’re young? Forget about it! You can’t. You’re young. You have to be full of life, full of dreams and energy. You can’t be in pain. You can’t feel anything else than happiness. You have to match every standard ever set. Everything has to be up to the labels, your looks, sexuality, gender, troubles, amount of partners. What do you mean you're a virgin?Prude.  What do you mean you’re not one? Whore. You want to dye your hair? Are you crazy? All that LGBT propaganda got to you! Do you want mental health help? Shut up! It’s taboo you freak, keep it to yourself. What do you mean black people are normal people? They’re criminals! Shoot them! Kill them. He raped you? No, I know him, he wouldn’t, besides he has a whole life ahead of him, don’t say a word. You’re in debilitating pain every month? Lose some weight and get pregnant, it’ll help. What do you mean you don’t like sports? You like art? A man? Are you gay? Freak!” 

Alice stopped speaking for a short moment, her eyes glazed with tears as she looked outside, sun dancing in her tears almost like it was trying to wipe them away with gentle warmth, to heal some wounds that no one could see but they were going oh so deep. 

“They’re brutal. Of course there are good people, but they’re usually the targets of that poison, and it kills so well…” Alice whispered, before looking back at Cassandra with much softer eyes. “ After all, I doubt even you’re as brutal as them, but it matches to some extent…” 

As much as ridiculous it sounded, Cassandra felt bad for a split second. For being that kind of human. She was used to being perceived as a monster, but that hurt in some different way, a sharp sting she couldn’t really explain, but quickly pushed away, just looking at the girl in front of herself. If anyone else would call her that, they would’ve been dead by now, and it crossed her mind to do that. She even raised her fingers, but put them down just as quickly as she lifted them. Why? She didn’t know. 

[jesncin]

have y’all watched superman: man of tomorrow? what did y’all think, if you did?

I have! If they could put a reviewer quote from me on the poster, it would say "it'd be nice if this movie had more music" because 80% of this movie is so awkwardly dead silent?

The animation style is beautiful, I like the designs! The actors are competent, but they're given a dry script with no music to couple their performance. Long pauses between Lois and Clark that should be romantic are instead rendered super awkward because there's no music. Also some of the transitions and shot designs are jarring to me. My biggest issue with Man of Tomorrow is that it has the ingredients of things I would love in a Superman story: themes of xenophobia, otherness and a Martian Manhunter team up that parallels them as survivors, but it doesn't commit to those things. They're all very awkwardly stitched together in a way that weirdly undermines itself.

There's this quote that Lois says about taking down Lex Luthor: "People with that much power think they wield it over everyone. If you can take that away from them for a moment, you can take it away for good. It's called a power move." And it's such an awkwardly oxymoron way to frame systemic power. It becomes unintentionally funny at times.

Rudy Jones is made other and inhuman by turning into Parasite, but it's a bit weird to pull a parallel between him and the 2 alien immigrant characters when he's an American man. The story tries to talk about xenophobia's relation to fear of the unknown. In Superman's speech at the end, he says that people become so afraid that Aliens Could Be Among Us that they even assumed this All-American-Previously-Serving-In-The-Army-Man was one of those aliens!! I'd much rather a story about xenophobia to center the humanity of the perpetual foreigners instead of having the story tell me to not judge others because they could secretly have been an American white man.

This is made even more comedically awkward when Superman comes to the realization that Parasite doesn't just suck power and knowledge but people's...personhood as well? So he does an appeal to Parasite by basically saying "I know you're a good person Rudy! Not just because you're a decent guy who served in the army and stuff but because there's A BIT OF ME IN YOU! AND I'M GOOD!" The source of sympathy is based on projecting oneself onto the other instead of listening to what they have to say and recognizing their worth on their own.

Martian Manhunter is a plot device with very lightly touched upon themes. He opens up the pyramid hologram device so Clark can have The Talk with his parents, he fakes his death so that Clark can mope in the second act, he comes back in the climax to grab Lex and tell Superman to do everything else. But when he's not doing that, he's being sexy and telling Clark to lay low because they should be extra careful about preserving their existence as the last of their kind. But Clark wants to help people, so we move on. I'm glad they didn't stick here too long though because the movie could've easily slipped into Man of Steel's Superman's Stuck in the Refusal of the Call problem. There could've been a great discussion of how J'onn is more Other compared to Clark who is white-human-passing. Why did J'onn, as a shapeshifter, pick the appearance of a Black man as his human form in this film? Does he relate to how they're othered?

The part where this plot line becomes funny is by the end, Lobo reveals that neither Clark nor J'onn are the last of their kind. Clark watches Lobo leave and says "dang I hope we never see that guy again he sucks" and I kid you not, he turns over to J'onn and says "hey you should follow him". I know it's because he wants J'onn to find other Martians, but lmao it felt like a backhanded way to tell J'onn to gtfo it cracks me up. J'onn asks Clark if he'd like to go to space too and find other Kryptonians, but Clark answers that he already has a home on Earth. So...did Clark just assume that J'onn never found solidarity with humans the way Superman did? It's out of pocket considering how underdeveloped J'onn is. It's that undermined theme again, the narrative empathizes with Clark, but others J'onn without realizing it. This is very common in stories J'onn is in, you get used to it as a Martian Manhunter fan. It's part of why CW Supergirl is such a breath of fresh air.

To bring this back to Lois-I think a very expected evolution of her character is that as she's modernized, writers will drop the early part of her character where's she's marginalized by rampant misogyny (because they think it's archaic and outdated to portray sexism) and just keep the parts where she's jaded and sassy. The result is a Girl Boss Lois Lane, who's jadedness isn't informed by marginalization unique to her. This isn't unique to Man of Tomorrow, many modern Loises have this problem. But at least it's unintentionally funny here.

She keeps talking about "power moves". One of which involves standing Superman up despite scheduling an interview with him. She thinks ghosting Superman will make him desperately tell her everything because he craves her attention as a powerful man. She's also going to write an exposé about him by interviewing the uncooperative Lobo! That'll show him!! She sure is girl boss for forcing the alien immigrant out of the closet again! I think what's funny about her "power move" tactic is that in reality that would only work if Superman had nothing else going on in his life. It's not a power move, it's just unprofessional. If I was a big powerful influential man and was going to be interviewed by a journalist who ghosted me, I wouldn't be seething and tracking her down, I'd just wait for the next journalist who wants to interview me because I'm so important. Apparently that's not the movie's logic though.

So overall, it's a very strange movie! I didn't hate it, but I was very bored because of the lack of music. Extremely sexy Martian Manhunter design though, 10/10.

[yellosnacc]

bigger Central religion post

Journey of the lost souls by an unknown pilgrim

A scene from the story of the "crystal Head".

With the help of a "harpy", the great sinner crosses the bridge to the new land as their sea-born crystal body cracks under the weight of a thousand souls.

If they were to fail, the sky may become richer, but the Uniima will end.

This is a bigger central Foru uniima religion post. All the information here is about the central religion's beliefs, not the world's biology or physics.

Now let's get the context for the painting.

To leave the Physical, one must die at a ripe age so that their wisdom can be put to the test. The glowing triangles are the souls of uniima. They resemble a larva/white and are parasite-like in behavior. After a soul is released out of a body by premature death (or created) it holds onto someone (soul-binds) until it's passed into a new body. Soul bonded can be anything with a soul but uniima souls are picky in what they cling onto and usually pick a parental figure, a friend, or pupil. When the soul senses an empty unii-body, it moves in. Twins/triplets are considered 'one-soul' with special powers.

The one depicted to carry this soul mass is the uniiman spiritual leader/s (their historical body and events), sometimes called the Heads, but there's definitely a better name in the native language (slomen and O.s use this name). The Head/s existed for most of the religion's history and is the one to name the 'uniima' (translates "own-one-mind". It's the name of the central people. Because of historical events, it caught on between aliens as the species name). Head/s is immortal because of a "curse" set on them for breaching into the spiritual world thousands of years ago. Since this event, they have been changing bodies and fixing their sins until today. Nowadays, they are considered the wisest, mentally strongest, and morally cleanest soul - an inspiration for everyone (which keeps them in power over Central Foru among other things).

More about the current Heads.

This art comes from an early chapter, only a few hundred years after the creation of people. After the Head dooms the uniima by peaking into the Spiritual, society starts falling faster than it did ever before, finally resulting in the 'death of creature people'. This society was one of constant sin and destruction since no holy parts were remaining (too complicated, let's leave that for another time), so this scene is something of a strange bitter-sweet moment. With both the land and the people gone (yes, land too), the Head is once more reincarnated - being put into a body of melted sand and rock. They collect all the wandering souls unable to ascend and travel to a new land with the help of a half-uniima-half-animal who feels sorry for the people it shares a soul with. This journey is the first major lesson and soul-cleaning of the Head. Now, what is the thing in their jaws?

This motive is common in images with the Head, but it's not very realistic for the time period. These "flesh lists" worn on the lower tongue-hand are a modern-ish invention. People wear these on special occasions. They show all the past lives on a uniima and can get very long in high mortality areas (soul moves until a body reaches the desired age to be final-judged). The significance and uses of these in status get very complicated, but I will keep it simple. A short scarf/list makes one seem strong, with potential, being naturally gifted, and wealthy. A long scarf shows weakness, and a tendency to sin, but also patience, and a wise mind (which in many cases is the most important feature of a person).

In religious art, "scarfs" help mark chapters, but in "Journey of the lost souls" it's to depict the scale of the tragedy.

Lastly, the Heads' stomach. It shows them moving a large "hole" out of their body. This is symbolism for shedding a sin. It's said a mind and body should be able to naturally "regurgitate" any "object" out of their stomach, clean of the evil within it.

Bad nature - sins, bad thoughts (even physical stuff such as poison and drugs), is stored in the stomach. The "hungrier" you are the more evil you have to shed and the more you are controlled by this "evil hunger". Being flagged as a "stomach-thinker" is not calling you a food enjoyer but rather an insane/deranged person. However, some regions consider the stomach the default thinking center (what's a brain?), so it's more like a scale of good to bad stomach.

If anything needs more explaining or isn't explained properly, please inform me in the replies or send me an ask for a dedicated post. Thank you for reading this far <3

[hivemindomega]

'I'm not going to do down THIS rabbit hole' Says I, a fool little notes from an unknown journalist. Mostly an excuse to render some pikmin with my personal headcanons. i love textures.

(captions under readmore because I know this text isn't very readable)

2nd Img: Red Pikmin are the most common Pikmin species in PNF-404, and likely an explorer's first encounter. They are identified by their signature, nose-like facial thorn. Red Pikmin display heightened aggression in comparison to other colors. They use their 'nose' to pierce the hide of their foes, who quickly succumb to the painful assault. Despite this, they are very friendly to spacefarers. Fire is a common defense mechanism, and so it is thought Red Pikmin developed their immunity to prey on the likes of the Fiery Blowhog, and clear up territory by 'borrowing' their fire. 3rd Img: Yellow Pikmin are a common species of surface dwelling Pikmin characterized by their large ear-like appendages. Their light weight and love of high perches hint towards semi-arboreal preferences, although this is mere conjecture.

These Pikmin resist and are attracted by electricity, a trait possibly developed due to their habitat being more susceptible to storms.

They are also known for their hoarding behavior, being avid resource diggers and lovers of shiny objects.

Yellows are the first confirmed case of tool use (bombrocks) among Pikmin. 4rth Img: Blue Pikmin are semi-aquatic and the third most common Pikmin on the surface.

Blue Pikmin appear to have a permanently open, downturned mouth. However, while often used for emoting, this 'mouth' is in fact a gill. It facilitates gas exchange, enabling the Pikmin to operate underwater without suffocating. Like all other Pikmin, a Blue's disgestive system is only suitable for consuming liquids, such as nectar.

Blue Pikmin usually prefer to walk along a body of water's bottom. However, they're capable of incredible bursts of speed by using their powerful stems as a caudal fin, vibrating their leaves through the water. 5th Img: White and Purple Pikmin are rare, cave-dwelling species.

Whites are matched with Winged Pikmin as the smallest species, and the fastest. Their only pigment is the chlorophyll of their leaves and are otherwise albino. A White's main method of defense is their speed, and their poison, lethal enough to kill an adult Bulborb. Their oversized eyes are adapted to the dark. They have a remarkably foul temperament.

Purple Pikmin are incredibly dense. Weighing ten times their size, they have an extremely heavy core, making them powerhouses and also very, very hefty. Their hairlike trichomes are used as whiskers, navigating tunnels and detecting threats by feeling air movement.

Both species often cohabitate, and are known to attach themselves to surface colonies. 6th Img: Winged Pikmin, alo called Pink Pikmin, are a close relative of White Pikmin. However, their small size and large eyes are about where their similarities end. Wings are, notably, naturally ocurring transgenic organisms. By repeatedly preying on flying insects, their host Onion appears to have recombined their DNA into a functional flighted form. The implications of this and the medical applications of Onions are yet unresearched.

Rock Pikmin are part of a classification dubbed 'Hermikmin'. Though coloquially referred to as parasitic, their choice of host (inert stones, usually graphite) make this claim incorrect. Rocks root inside their chosen stone permanently. This makes them very durable, and unappetizing to predators. However, this makes them clumsy and their internal structures are distorted. Rock Pikmin with cracked shells will die quickly without the internal pressure. 7th Img: Ice Pikmin are another subspecies of Hermikmin which have evolved for rooting inside slabs of ice. Even less appetizing than their rocky cousins, Ice Pikmin maintain body temperatures low enough to give would-be predators hypothermia and a bad case of brainfreeze. Their bodies are full of anti-freeze. They are very rare, requiring temperate to sub-zero habitats to maintain homeostasis, and are very vulnerable to fire or heat.

Glow Pikmin are an exclusively nocturnal species. Rather than being seeded from Onions, Glows spawn from a subterranean 'Lumiknoll' that emerges at sundown. They possess many abilities that are hardly explainable by science and are rumored to be unable to die. Glow Pikmin might not be Pikmin at all.

[teecupangel]

Hello dear angle. I'm back with an ask that idk if it's wierd or not. Actaully I'm trying to start a fanfic about a civilizade xenomorph society and I'm turing everthing I like to these cute little parasites. So… I wanted to ask what do you think about an android Desmond with his three white xenomorph ancestors? I've read several comics and novels of alien and what I discovered was that xenomorphs were created to be a biological weapon. So I was thinking what if Desmond android was created by abstergo to controll the xenemorphs. He is like a queen to them because of the DNA they share. In this au the assassin-templair war is not still over. And even in the sky they are trying to take cotroll over the galaxy. What if Desmond works in one of abstergo's labs. Until he saw a xenomorph for the first time in his life. It was pure white with a strange looking mark on its forhead. Some thing about this mark was familiar to him which he didn't know why. The first time he saw it he felt a strong bond between them. He felt so safe around that monster. It felt like family. Like home. He put his hand on the glass. The creature came closer with curiosity and placed its hand where was desmond's. And suddenly something flashed before Desmond's eyes. A face. A man with white cloak that was standing there and staring at him in a kind smile. And then he was in the lab again. He stared at the monster and smiled. "Ezio. So it's your name."

I will leave it from here for you. I belive in you. You can turn this to a movie that worths watching. And mabey it's ezides? I love ezides fanfics and i don't know why. They're kinda apposite but still cute. Your blog is wonderful 🤩

(Thank you! While I cannot promise I can make this a movie worth watching, I will do my best to make this something monster fuckers would at the very least be curious about XD)

It’s not weird. I mean, I’m fine with weird ideas XD

Also, Alien is one of my favorite horror movies.

For this one, what if we just throw away Alien/Prometheus canon and spin this into another AU (mainly because this gives us an excuse to not use the canon explanation of white xenomorphs and the proto xenomorphs.

For this one, let’s set up Abstergo as being sorta in a decline after humanity decided to live among the stars. While they had been focused on profiting and trying to eradicate the Brotherhood, Weyland-Yutani slips pass them and became the juggernaut corporation that more or less controlled human settlements.

DESMOND was meant to be the prototype of an android line that should have exceeded everything Weyland-Yutani approved androids could.

But there were a bit of problem with DESMOND. For one, he appeared too cold, less expressive than the cheapest android and has a hard time understanding orders.

It was a failure.

So Abstergo had to pivot and create a new product. They manage to get samples of Weyland-Yutani’s ‘prized’ secret project and a basic ‘overview’ of what it’s meant to be.

Unfortunately, the samples didn’t have enough genetic information to complete their version and they thought, “Hey, you know what we have? The DNA sample of some dude that died during the 21st century! That might work!”

In their defense, the lead of the project, Dr. Vidic (relation to the late Warren Vidic is unknown), believed in this ‘rumor’ that Sample 17 is the golden ticket to Abstergo’s success. It was the key to the success of the Animus Project. Why not this project as well?

If the human DNA is unusable for this project, Sample 17’s Isu DNA might be what they needed.

For this one, they made three Prototypes to use for different ‘experiments’.

They were called Zero-One, Zero-Two and Zero-Three.

Zero-One is taken to the deepest part of the space station to be experimented on.

Zero-Two is kept in one of the more secured floors to be observed with limited ‘contact’.

Zero-Three is kept on stasis while Zero-One and Zero-Two are being ‘observed’. Once the observation period is over, Zero-Three will be eliminated and dissected to gather more data using what data they gathered from Zero-One and Zero-Two.

DESMOND has been turned into a messenger android, delivering devices and other items and acting similar to someone who takes picture of the person who took a package.

It was one of the few things it could do without having to be supervised the entire time.

It is during one of its delivery to Dr. Vidic that it sees Zero-Two.

There was something about Zero-Two that makes it feel something.

Makes him feel something.

Their first meeting ends with him calling Zero-Two ‘Ezio’.

His Ezio.

DESMOND starts visiting him whenever he has the chance.

And Abstergo sees this all.

Hard not to considering the floor Ezio is in is covered in surveillance tech.

Dr. Vidic thinks this is a good thing.

DESMOND can communicate with Zero-Two. With enough time, DESMOND can be used to control Zero-Two.

No.

Control an army of them.

So he takes DESMOND under his wing and starts to supervise the meetings.

The tried and true method of carrot-and-stick.

With DESMOND being the carrot.

During that time, the team in charge of experimenting of Zero-One fuck up big time.

Maybe they didn’t take in consideration the idea that Zero-One would use its acid blood to destroy its cage.

Maybe they underestimated Zero-One’s intellect and it manages to get them to open the cage by pretending to be sick or dead.

Whatever the reason will be, the end result is the same.

Zero-One kills the team that has been experimenting on it and starts to hunt down everyone in the Space Station.

During this time, Dr Vidic gets the idea of hunting Zero-One using Zero-Two.

And he does it by having DESMOND become bait because he knows Zero-Two will protect DESMOND.

He didn’t take in consideration that DESMOND’s connection might not be exclusive to Zero-Two alone.

So when DESMOND sees Zero-One, he sees him about to kill another Abstergo personnel. The personnel begged for help but DESMOND simply stood there.

Dr. Vidic thought (as he watched the feeds from a drone) that DESMOND is doing as ordered, to find Zero-One and to place himself in danger until Zero-Two gets to his position (Zero-Two has been fashioned with a device that would push a strong sedative inside him in a push of a button, deliberately placed in a part of his body that he cannot use his acid blood to dissolve it)

Zero-One kills the personnel and starts moving to DESMOND’s position on all fours. A predator slowly making its way to its next kill.

That’s when Dr. Vidic sees DESMOND take a step towards Zero-One and reach a hand.

Without any mirror, DESMOND touches Zero-One as he says, “Altaïr?”

“You want to kill them all? Okay.”

“… We can do that.”

.

Unorganized Notes:

They take Ratonhnhaké:ton out of stasis during Altaïr’s rampage and DESMOND stays with him because he hasn’t gotten used to moving yet and is the most vulnerable of the three.

Considering it’s me, I would suggest we just turn this into all three main couples (AltDes, EziDes, ConDes) for triple the ‘fun’.

They feel a connection to DESMOND because he is created to be a complete copy of Sample 17 with an android body. Technically, his ‘genetics’ is more or less in that ‘white fuel’ he creates himself and a bunch of 1s and 0s makes up Sample 17’s entire DNA.

In a more… ‘strange’ level, they feel a connection to DESMOND and DESMOND feels a connection with them because they’re the closest species to one another. Both created from Sample 17.

If you want smut in this one, well, they see DESMOND as their Queen and they have the instinct to mate with their Queen because Sample 17’s genetic code had a hardwired ‘order’ of needing to reproduce sexually. (to create Desmond Miles but the order is still there). Otherwise, they feel the need to protect DESMOND and to satisfy his every desire.

The xenomorphs take one more and more characteristics of the ‘target’ ancestor in terms of personality and habits. On the flipside, DESMOND starts acting more… ‘selfish’ the longer he stays with the three.

This would end with the space station succumbing to the xenomorphs but Dr. Vidic manages to send out an SOS before he dies.

This is the part where we can focus on developing DESMOND’s relationship with the xenomorphs (insert smut here if you want).

Then… an Abstergo rescue ship is pinged on the radar and… more cannon fodders as well as the possibility of finally leaving the space station.

The twist is there’s an Assassin aboard the rescue ship and this Assassin would get in contact with DESMOND and realize who he is based on because the Brotherhood never forgot Desmond Miles. (this gives us the chance to make this either (1) DESMOND and the xenomorphs joining the Brotherhood for a sorta morally gray good guys scenario or (2) they kill the Assassin and go on full on corrupted “the world against us” setup)

[mjwiththefangs]

Trickery & Daggers - Chapter 9

In which we tackle arachnophobia. Also on AO3 Masterlist Word count: 4859 Warnings: Biting, arachnophobia, vomiting, knife play

--

“ ‘Vampire spawn, although weaker than the Lords that spawned them, have incredible strength and powers including spider climb. These combined with their affinity with shadows make them a dangerous adversary to face alone.’ Hm, well, fancy that, the little warlock was right.” Astarion reads aloud with a hum. “It would seem that Bastard kept us all starved for more reasons than we knew.”

 The bitterness lances through him, twisting with renewed fury and loathing for the one that turned him and tormented him all these years. So far, the book has been insightful. Not only in teaching him new things about himself, but about other undead also. He had been hoping to find something - anything - to use against Cazador, though so far it's only reiterated what he already knows. Sunlight, silver, a stake through the heart.

 He was amused to discover that lesser zombies will not be hostile if you smell like a corpse. It seems to be unknown if the same is true for greater zombies, being that they only seem to occur alongside necromancers.

 He leafs through the pages, skimming more text and paragraphs on vampires, until he turns another page and raises one brow, curiosity bubbling within him.

 Dhampirs.

 “They’re real?” He murmurs to himself, half-believingly. 

 ‘Often referred to as half-vampires, these creatures are not always the result of a union between a Vampire and a Mortal. ‘

 Now there’s something interesting. He’s assumed dhampirs are such a rarity due to the nigh-impossibiltiy of their conception. But maybe they’re not such an impossibility after all. 

‘Documented instances of dhampiric existence are confirmed but not limited to macabre bargains, necromantic influences and encounters with abstruse immortals.’

 He reads further, torn between amusement and a grimace when he finds that parasites can trigger this transformation through the host indulging its hunger. Well, these tadpoles suddenly have a few more complications or potential consequences. That will make their removal certainly interesting.

 Surely, being a vampire, he’s the only one of the group who is guaranteed to be safe of dhampiric transformation. Although, according to the next page, most studies show that while still sensitive, and in most cases weakened, they can walk in the daylight. Most of the time. The text seems to suggest that it can vary on an individual basis, what traits or powers a dhampir will share with a vampire.

 ‘ Typically, dhampirs can integrate and blend in better than their shadow-sworn kin. ‘

 “Ugh, what an obnoxious way of putting it.” Astarion rolls his eyes and instead returns to reading on what makes such a creature. “... ‘Reincarnation of a vampiric lord ancestor ‘ ? Oh dear, Strahd himself may yet walk among us!” He laughs to himself and then he instantly becomes more sombre, the fun lost, when his eyes fall to the next known cause of transformation.

 ‘Tragedy interrupted the transformation into an immortal.’

He stares accusively at the words for a long moment. His jaw clenches. He snaps the book shut.

Astarion decides he can read more later.

.

 “The sign says Moonhaven.”

“Well, the goblins were calling it Bogrot.”

The jovial chatter between Wyll and Karlach drifts in through the broken doorway of the apothecary.

“There’s a hatch over here. Shall we go down?” Morgana calls, peering over the counter top to the elf flipping through what appears to be a ledger.

 “Hm? Ah. Yes, it sounds like the owner had something hidden in a basement.” He says thoughtfully. Her own curiosity piqued now, she nods, and opens the hatch, descending down the ladder into the dank and stale room below, thankful for her inherited darkvision as she scans around her.

 Astarions boots step noiselessly down the ladder behind her, signalling his arrival. He stalks into the room, wrinkling his nose in disgust.

 “Ugh. It reeks of undead down here.”

 Morgana only hums in agreement. They both search the room, examining books, rummaging through drawers, patting down shelves, until Astarion makes an excited noise and something clunks and drags across the floor behind the bookcase.

 “A secret door.”

 “How cliche.” Morgana says dryly, and he giggles.

 Through the doorway, they find themselves in a cavernous opening, with sunlight leaking through the ceiling, and the thick smell of decay lingering about the coffins.

 Undead.

They exchange a quick glance. Astarion flips his daggers in his hands and crouches low, Morgana’s magic hums to life in her palms, and she takes aim, and nods.

…

 It doesn't take them long, going one by one through each coffin and eliminating the hostile skeletons in each one. Morgana checks all the remains, looting any valuables, while Astarion brushes any remaining bone dust from his clothes with apparent disdain.

 She can hear him muttering under his breath and rolls her eyes, hiding her smile, and wanders deeper into the cavern, halting when she spots something catching the light.

 “Astarion! Over here.”

 When he joins her, she gestures to the shining surface. It takes them longer than either would like to admit to realise they’re looking into a mirror.

 “I keep forgetting your reflection just disappears.” He clicks his tongue.

 She shrugs, scanning the silvery surface. “Honestly it’s rather pleasant to not be the only individual without one.”

 Before he can retort, a presence surges to life within the glass surface, a featureless mask, its hollow voice echoing out.

 “Speak thy na-me.”

Morgana lifts her chin, thinking, and slowly answers “Morgana.”

“I do not kno-w this name. Tell me, are thee an ally of my ma-ster?”

She grimaces and purses her lips.

 How about this…

“I know your master, Ilyn Toth.” She’d found a journal in the other room and quickly skimmed it. He was a former Red Wizard, although he only spoke of ‘Bringing her back.’

 “Ha. Clever little Warlock.” Astarion mutters his approval and she smirks to herself, pleased.

 “Fin-ally. If thee could see any-thing in me, what would it be?”

 Morgana pauses, folding her arms across her chest. What would she want to see in this mirror?

 “...I'd see myself free of this worm.”

“You se-ek to surv-ive.” The voice in the mirror seems pleased with her answer, and without much more to say, it dissipates, allowing the pair access to what appears to be a lab.

 Morgana lifts her chin in wonder, eyeing the large aquatic-looking skeleton hanging from the ceiling and glancing over the various apparatus and discarded, long rotten body parts, now mere bones, littered about the space.

 “What is all th-”

 She squawks indignantly, suddenly jerked back and flails her arms to keep balance. The warlock whirls on the vampire, incredulous, only for him to level her with an unimpressed stare.

“Traps.” He deadpans, pointing, without looking, right where Morgana was about to step. Her face burns briefly with a flash of embarrassment, but she clears her throat, regains her footing and mutters a thanks.

 She can feel his smug eyes on her as she carefully steps around the room, minding her footing this time, and approaches a locked gate.

 Her brows lower into a frown. There’s something magic in there; very old, and very powerful. Grasping at the bars, she tugs.

 It doesn’t budge.

 She clicks her tongue in annoyance. Turning, she reaches into her pockets, fishing out a lockpick and pin. A huff sounds over her shoulder.

 “You can’t pick a lock.”

 Morgana just rolls her eyes, carefully poking around in the lock with the tools. Unblinking, she mutters back “I can pick a pocket, can’t I?”

 “Yes, and you didn’t notice your own pocket getting picked by yours truly.” Astarion counters. “Just move over and let me do it before-”

 The tool snaps, a loud click echoing through the room.

 Morgana sheepishly turns her head up to him, Astarion glaring firmly at her. Relenting, she shuffles over without a word and he swoops down, peering into the lock and then immediately scoffs.

 “You’ve jammed the lock, darling.”

“You… can’t unjam it?” She asks meekly.

 He rises back to his feet, hands on his hips, exasperated. “No. I can’t. It's one thing to break a tool, it's another to break the damn lock in such a distinctly unhelpful manner.” He flaps his arms. “Now we can’t get in there and find what treasure they might have been hiding.”

“You’re incredibly petulant, you know that?” She says dryly, earning another glare. If he were a cat, his tail would be lashing in silent fury. “Look, maybe i can just blast the door,”

 “No. It’s trapped. You really are no good at spotting these things, are you?” 

 She throws her head back at his mocking tone, swallowing her own irritation, when she spots something.

 “Hey…”

 The vampire ignores her, skulking away already.

“Astarion?”

 He stops with a stomp. “What?”

“Did you read that book? The one I gave you?”

She can feel his intense gaze on her, puzzling over her. In her peripheral, he follows her gaze and looks up. The bars reach almost to the high ceilings, but there, near the top, there is a gap.

 “What are you thinking?” He asks, releasing a long sigh.

 “Can you spider climb?”

 “Ugh, this again-”

“Astarion have you even tried?” She levels him with a firm stare and he falters.

“Well, no-”

“Are you hungry?”

He freezes. Slowly meeting her eyes with some lingering trepidation.

He really is like a cat.

“Do you think you could do it if you feed?”

 His eyes dart to the barely-healed marks on her neck and she ignores the zip that his heated look sends up her spine.

 The vampire pauses, considering. “I would be willing to try it.” He says slowly, a silent question in his words.

 Oh. She had expected this, of course. But somehow, it still makes her flush.

She swallows.

 “You… You can feed on me, if you like.”

 His gaze darkens. He steps closer.

Bergamot.

 “If you’re sure, darling.” His voice is low and rough.

Rosemary.

She nods, resisting the urge to bite her lip. He taps a finger under her chin, tilting her face and leaning down.

Brandy.

“Use your words.” His breath ghosts over her skin.

 “Yes.” she whispers, and then his lips brush against her throat, hesitating for a heartbeat, allowing her this moment to change her mind. She holds still, only tipping her head to give him easier access.

 He hums his approval, gentle hands brushing her hair away, and then she gasps as his fangs sink into her neck, arms gripping her tight.

 Like the first time, it’s like ice, chilling and then numbing. Then it feels like she's floating. Her hands wind into his embroidered doublet, holding tight in an attempt to keep herself grounded while his arms snake around and hold her tightly, pressing her body against his and winding his fist into her violet locks.

 It feels… nice. Intimate, maybe. 

 She hears a soft groaning noise from her companion. Then a small moan. Heat sparks through her, even as her fingers start to grow cold.

 He’s been starving for years, she reminds herself, firmly, Of course he’ll enjoy a fresh meal. Although the thought of being meal did nothing for the heat rising to her cheeks.

 He drinks deeply, pulling her lifeblood into himself, savouring each mouthful, and right as her knees begin to go weak, he draws himself back.

 Those intense rubies bore into her, his face still so close. He drags his tongue over the wound, chasing the last drops of her blood, a final pleased groan escaping him, and a soft breathy whine leaves her lips unbidden.

 He looks more alive; there is a faint colour to his cheeks and the tips of his ears are tinted pink. He almost looks like he could be blushing.

 They stay that way for perhaps a moment too long, his arms slow as they release her, moving to her shoulders in an attempt to steady her. The whole time his eyes don't leave hers.

 He must be able to hear the erratic beat of her heart, she’s sure, and maybe she’s a little mortified. It is Morgana who looks away first, mumbling under her breath about the trail of red from the corner of his mouth.

 The vampire suddenly recoils back, as though uncomfortable with her proximity. His tongue darts out to lick up the stray line of blood and the tips of his ears flush a deeper pink.

 “I-” He clears his throat, regaining his composure, “thank you.”

 His attention pointedly turns to the wall, doubt still etched on his features.

 She watches him, wryly, trying to calm her racing pulse and quickly knocks back a healing potion, and gestures with the same hand towards the wall.

 “Well?”

He pouts - actually pouts at her - his mouth twisting into a grimace. “Are we sure spawn can just - walk on walls?”

 “Oh for the love of-” Morgana sighs deeply, one hand now cupping her neck and again waves the bottle as she speaks. “If it fails, I promise to catch you, ok?”

 One silver brow quirks up, and while he clearly still has his doubts, he resigns himself and tentatively places one foot on the wall.

 Then the other.

 She watches his face morph with surprise, and notes just how round his eyes are when he’s not frowning or flirting. It doesn’t take him long to get the hang of it, some excitement lighting his features as he scurries up the surface, over the bars and deftly snatches something from a pedestal on the other side.

 He returns moments later, hopping down in front of her and brandishing an aged ugly book. She cocks her head.

 “Can I see that?”

 Reluctantly, he hands it over.

 Malevolent magic oozes from the book, two large amethyst eyes on the cover boring into her soul, the wide gaping mouth with its uneven teeth appearing like a trapped scream. The book does not open. But the magic from it resonates in the air. She can feel its putrid pull, back out of the basement and not too far away.

 “There’s some sort of key nearby…” She mumbles, tracing her fingers over the leathery cover. 

 Astarion straightens beside her.

 “Well. We better go find it then.”

.

“There’s something down there?” Wyll peers over the edge of the well, eyeing the depths quizzically. “Are you sure?”

 Honestly, no, she wants to answer, but she can feel that chill touch of magic, the traces luring her down into the well.

 Her lips purse in thought.

 “Try throwing a gold piece down, we'll soon know what's at the bottom then.” She reasons. Astarion makes a disgruntled noise behind her.

 “A copper piece.” She amends. Karlach snickers.

 Wyll, good-natured as always, acquiesces in her request.

 The coin clinks down the well and makes a distinct thump shortly after.

 “It’s empty.” Wyll exclaims, “and not deep either.”

 They all look to her, and Morgana peers over the edge, noting iron rungs in the stone bricks. Steeling herself, she tugs her sleeves over her hands, swings her legs over the edge, and begins the climb down.

 It is dank and dark in the bottom of the well, the sounds of skittering in the distance make her skin crawl, but the magic pull is stronger here. Once again, she is grateful for her darkvision.

 And quickly remembers that at least one of her companions may not be able to see in the dark.

“Wyll,” she keeps her voice low, quiet, wary of the sounds echoing around them, “can you see alright?”

 By the tentative steps he takes to crouch beside her, she would wager that, no, he can't.

“Not as far as the rest of you, but I shall manage.” He responds.

 Karlach and Astarion come to crouch beside them, opposite in their countenance, Astarion’s stealth barely undermined by the soft glow of Karlachs engine.

“Stay close” Morgana tells him, the group steadily working their way into the cave as she follows the tug of necromancy and insatiable curiosity.

 She’s so absorbed in tracing the magic, not taking note of her surroundings, barring the chittering noises sending shivers up her spine, that she stumbles and her foot catches in a strange cocoon.

It’s only then, Wyll diving to help her, Astarion drawing his bow and Karlach brandishing her axe, that she notices the cobwebs surrounding them.

 Panic begins to swell in her chest, and she tugs her foot while Wyll slices through the cocoon. 

 Skittering sounds close in around them, the group staying tightly together. A shadow moves along the wall and Morgana swallows a shriek.

 Her leg finally free, she scrambles to her feet, hands crackling with power, but Wyll grasps her wrist. “The light will attract them.” He whispers, raising his rapier, then turns his head, concentrating, relying on his hearing over his limited vision.

 “Let’s just find this key, and hurry up and get out of here.” Astarion hisses.

 Morgana nods vehemently, squashing her magic down and tempering her impulse.

 Karlach hangs back, axe at the ready, maintaining steady breaths in an attempt to keep her flames down. They inevitably have to squash a couple of ettercaps, Astarion and Morgana hanging back with arrows and suppressed Eldritch Blasts, Wyll fighting alongside Karlach in her flamed fury, cleaving through them, and the few larger spiders that inevitably draw near.

 It seems for a moment as though no more are coming. 

 Until skittering noises rush close and Morgana almost screams.

 If not for the cool hand clapped over her mouth, and yanking her back into the shadows, out of sight. Her heart hammers in her chest, the worm suddenly squirming and Astarion’s voice whispers into her mind at the time as her back is flattened against him.

 “Keep. Still.”

She does. She doesn’t dare to move. Fear spikes through her and she holds her breath.

 Slowly, slowly, the sounds fade, and Astarion releases her, and she gasps, her hands trembling. She whirls to face him, and his eyes drop down. Confused, her own eyes follow to the blade in her trembling hand.

 It’s the first time she’s unsheathed her dagger since waking up on the beach.

 She drops it as though it burns her.

 They both stare at the ornate dagger for a moment, before she snatches it up and quickly re-sheaths it.

 “Th… Thank you.” She says. She brushes herself off, avoiding looking at the vampire, even as his questioning eyes linger, instead scanning for their two horned companions, spotting them a little ways away, wiping off their weapons.

 She waves them over.

 “I don’t think it's far now. Let’s just get this over with.”

 They follow behind her as she follows the trail. Around a corner, she spots it; a pulsing purple gem, seeping with necromancy. 

 But then, just above it, her eyes land on the largest spider she’s ever seen in her life, and all of its many eyes land on her.

 “♐︎◆︎♍︎🙵♓︎■︎♑︎ ♒︎♏︎●︎●︎⬧︎!” She swears in sylvan, and unleashes an eldritch blast.

.

The arachnid matriarch is dead. It must be. Morgana has unloaded three more blasts to its foetid corpse, and when she’s finally certain the bug is definitely dead, she spins on her heels, trips, and unceremoniously heaves, emptying her stomach's contents.

 “Ugh, charming…” 

Without looking, she flips off the grimacing vampire.

 “You doing ok over there, soldier?”

 Morgana retches again, unable to answer Karlach right away, hands now braced on her knees. The warmth from Karlachs hands hovers just over back, offering what little comfort she can without burning her.

 Coughing and gagging, Morgana takes a deep breath, filling her lungs, and finally straightens herself up.

 “Thanks Karlach, I just -” She gulps down another deep breath, this time reaching for her water skin, “I just really hate spiders.”

Wyll guffaws a laugh and quickly covers it with a cough, though his expression still shines with thinly-veiled amusement. Karlach grins.

 “Well! Let’s get out of here and get you some fresh air, eh!”

 She nods her agreement, noting that the purple gem is no longer on the floor, but she can still sense its power looming from the pale elf innocuously dusting himself off and with a minute shake of her head, she trails after Karlach towards the exit.

.

The fresh air does wonders for Morgana’s lingering nausea. Not so much for the clammy uncomfortable feeling of her padded armour sticking to her skin. She wrinkles her nose in distaste.

 “Have we searched all the buildings here?” She asks aloud, turning her head to Karlach. 

 “There’s a few older houses over here, they had some new-looking chests in them.”

 They both turn their heads expectantly to Astarion. Morgana’s mouth twitches into a sly grin.

 “You did say that I can't pick a lock earlier.”

He scowls. “Fine! But if there’s anything valuable, I want the first pick.”

 She chuckles and nods, and so that's how Astarion ends up lockpicking several trunks and chests, making unimpressed quips about how a few had nothing of value, finally stalking off with a huff to find Wyll when he’s done.

 Morgana and Karlach rummage through the chests. She picks a plain looking trunk, and unceremoniously upturns it, emptying its contents, when a flash of violet catches her eye. The half-elf pauses. The trunk did seem new, and it had been sealed, and there’s no musty smell emanating from the garment when she picks it up and examines it.

 “... Hey, Karlach?”

 “Hm?” The tiefling’s head pops up.

 “The area is clear now, right? We can take a break?”

“We cleared out goblins yesterday and now with those beasties today, i don’t see why not -”

 “Good. Keep watch for me for a moment.” Morgana interrupts and quickly strips herself of her padded armour, yanking it over her head and discarding it, ignoring the fresh air on her clammy skin and squirms into the new item, tugging it down. 

 “Holy shit. Your tits look great in that!” Karlach exclaims and Morgana bursts out laughing, smoothing her hands over the corset-esque top and flushing at the sight of her rather ample cleavage.

 “Hells, they don't look too showy, do they?” She laughs nervously.

 Karlach beams at her. “If you've got it, may as well show it off! Though I have to wonder where you've been hiding them!”

Morgana flushes, laughing awkwardly. The garment really does emphasise her assets. She was already somewhat well-endowed, and now, 

 “I look like I’m displaying goods for sale…”

“You look great!” Karlach chortles, “Now come on, Wyll will have lunch ready!”

…

Their lunch should have been uneventful. Or at least, it would have been not for their unwelcome visitor.

 “A devil?! It's bad enough we have worms in our heads, and now there’s a devil after us?!” Astarion splutters.

 “You can’t trust a word he says -” Karlach starts, ferociously.

“There is no good to come of dealing with a devil!” Wyll asserts.

“Let’s just get back to the others,” Morgana reasons, gathering up their things, and ushering them back to camp.

 The whole way, both Wyll and Karlach urge caution with Raphael, the newly acquainted devil in question, each recounting their own less-than-stellar experiences with devils and fiends. 

She allows the pair to take charge in recounting the meeting when they reunite with the rest of their camp. Although first, Lae’zel assess Morgana’s new clothes with the exacting opinion she’s come to expect.

 “This outfit offers no protection. You may not wield a sword, but you still join us in battle.” The warrior assesses, “Although. It certainly adds to your charm. You look… nice.”

 Morgana is briefly taken aback. Regardless, she thanks the warrior, who merely nods her reply and briskly adds that she expects Morgana to join her in weapons training soon, to which Morgana insists she will practise in preparation.

 After today, having to temper her powers to minimise discovery, perhaps she does need to be able to use her weapon when magic is out of the question.

On that note, the warlock glances around, noting her companions in deep discussion regarding the devil. All barring one.

 She knows where to find him, because despite his stealth, he still has the gem on his person and she can follow the magic emanating from it.

 The vampire is sitting beside the river, just on the bank, away from the camp. She approaches him quietly, and when he briefly acknowledges her presence without asking her to leave, she sits beside him.

 They stay in silence for a while, and she wonders when he changed into his camp clothes, watching him observe the river flowing by.

 The half-elf speaks first.

 “So, you might be needing a creepy skin-bound book to go with that eerie jewel in your pocket.”

 His mouth quirks up, amused. “I don’t know what you mean, darling. This is a perfectly good eerie jewel all on its own, don’t you agree?” He produces the amethyst with a flourish, side-eyeing her, and with a flick of his dexterous wrist, it disappears again.

She shakes her head with a smile. “You seemed interested in it, so I left it in your tent on my way by. Just. Be careful. Necromancy is powerful stuff.”

 He scoffs, waving her off. “Oh please, darling, it might have something helpful for an undead like myself. I’d be a fool to pass up that kind of power.”

 She just shrugs, turning back to the river.

 After another beat, she asks him, “Will you spar with me?”

 “Teach you a few little tricks, you mean?” He says suggestively.

 “Honestly, you are such a flirt.”

 “Only with you, you sweet, generous thing.” His silken admission ignites a spark under her skin, and he smirks knowingly.

 In a blink, he rises with all the grace and skill of a practised performer, flicking a dagger free from his waist. Morgana rises to her own feet, inelegantly, and fidgets with her rings, blinking up at Astarion.

 Pointedly, he looks at her still-sheathed blade at her hip. 

“Nach tarraing thu d’airm?” [Will you not draw your weapon?]

She bites her lip. She swallows. Her eyes dart away.

 “Could I borrow one of yours? Mas e do thoil e?” [please?]

 Astarion hums, considering and tilting his chin. “Alright,” he concedes, “dèan gàire orm an uairsin. Carson nach cleachd thu am biodag?” [Humor me then. Why don't you use the dagger?]

 He tosses his blade to her, and she stumbles to catch it, having been mentally translating his Elvish question. He comes at her quickly, swinging a blade with careful precision, and she jerks backwards, thrusting the borrowed blade up with both hands to defend.

 The vampire clicks his tongue, effortlessly batting her away, and holding his own under her chin.

 Just how many times is he going to get a knife to my throat?

He’s watching her expectantly.

She swallows and her throat bobs against the tip of the blade as she does. She licks her lips, readying the words. She speaks slowly, disjointed.

 “B’ e a’ chiad mharbhadh a bh’ agam. Rinn mi na bha agam ri dhèanamh.” [It was my first kill. I did what I had to.]

 Keen red eyes blink with interest.

 “Your pronunciation is awful, darling.” He sighs dramatically, “and your form is simply terrible. A bheil fios agad eadhon mar a chumas tu lann?” [Do you even know how to hold a blade?]

Shame colours her cheeks. “No.” She mutters, momentarily deflating. Then she stands up straighter and squares her shoulders, determined.

“Sin as coireach gu bheil mi ag iarraidh ort teagasg dhomh.” [That’s why I’m asking you to teach me.]

“Better.” His fangs catch the light with his grin. He raises his hand, demonstrating. “Like this, darling.”

 He gives her a moment, watching how those silver eyes scrutinise his hold, his grip, and then she mimics him. She nods. He rushes her again, but this time, she manages to deflect. It’s sloppy, he notes, but with a bit more practice, she can parry effectively.

 “Tha thu nad neach-ionnsachaidh luath.” [You’re a fast learner.]

Her face lights up at his praise. She’s actually enjoying herself. Elvish is much easier to speak when she doesn’t have the time to think about it, she discovers. As for wielding a dagger, it takes concentration, and practice, and by the end of their little training session, she’s more capable of defending herself. And speaking more naturally in Elvish. A double lesson.

 Despite how much skin she has exposed, his blade has not touched her skin once, though, she supposes, Astarion is just that skilled with a blade. It was intentional that he didn't catch or nick her.

 She hands his dagger back to him, chest heaving as she catches her breath. He gives her that signature smirk, taking it back with a thanks.

“You never mentioned that you can speak silvan.”

 Oh? 

“I didn’t.” She answers levelly.

“How is it that a little half-human like yourself is fully fluent in silvan, but not elvish?” He folds his arms, tilting his head with curiosity.

 Morgana laughs breathily. “Fae stuff.”

“Well darling, you shall simply have to tell me more next time we have one of these little… study sessions.” 

 She smiles filled with mirth and amusement. “It’s a date.”

[goldenhallas]

~ Meet my Tav ~

Name: Senna Dekarios (née Thorne) Nicknames: Sen, Cub, Wolfheart Age: 30 Gender: Female (She/Her) Height: 5'7 Race: Wood Elf Class: Druid Background: Outlander Birthplace: Unknown Grew up: Cottage in the High Forest Occupation: Druid of Tall Trees Alignment: Chaotic Good Song: Raised by Wolves by The Interrupters

Just some girl from the woods with leaves in her hair and dirt on her clothes. Like the wolves she was raised with, Senna is swift, agile, a keen strategist and hunter, playful, loyal, and fiercely protective of her pack and the forests she calls home; she is also extremely wary of people she doesn’t know, prone to snarling and snapping when scared, and has abysmal table manners.

Backstory

Senna Thorne (aka Sen) was abandoned in the woods as a babe, and found by a reclusive High Forest Scout, a human man named Rowan Thorne. Rowan took Senna in and raised her among his wolf pack, teaching her archery, hunting, foraging, herbalism, healing and nature magic, as well as instilling in her a reverence for the land and the goddess Mielikki.

After the death of her father when she was 16, Senna couldn't stand to stay in the cottage where she'd grown up any longer. She packed her bag and set out into the woods with her father's last remaining wolf companion, Taran, by her side. She eventually found herself in a place called Tall Trees, a Druid's Grove dedicated to Mielikki. She spent many years here learning druidcraft (including how to wildshape into a wolf), helping guard the Grove and teaching children archery. It’s also where she met her first love, Cariad Holimion; a soft spoken wood elf druid with the wildshape of a stag.

Four years prior to being abducted by mindflayers, Cariad and Senna had a rare break from their duties and snuck away to have a date in the woods when they were set upon by yuan-ti. They fought as hard as they could to protect each other, but Cariad was killed in the fray, while Senna narrowly managed to survive. Wracked with survivor’s guilt and despair at the loss of her beloved, Senna left the High Forest for the first time in her life. She wandered aimlessly for a while, ending up on the Sword Coast, lost, alone and unsure what to do next. That was when she was kidnapped by mindflayers and had one of their tadpoles inserted into her brain. 

Senna is great with animals, nature and magic, but not so much with people, which was never really a problem before now. Faced with the prospect of travelling with six other survivors of the nautiloid crash, all of whom need the parasites in their heads removed just as she does, Senna feels like a fish out of water - or, more aptly, a wolf out of the forest. Wary of strangers but also naturally inclined toward forming a pack and helping people, Senna hesitantly agrees to travel with them, but has absolutely no idea how she of all people ends up being appointed leader of the ragtag bunch of misfits (Mielikki preserve them all). She doesn't expect to survive for very long with a mindflayer tadpole stuck in her head, let alone that she'll find lifelong friends among her tadpoled companions, or that when she pulled a certain wizard from a malfunctioning magical rune, she would feel an irresistible pull to him that would change both their lives forever…

her pinterest

Notes / more info (adding to this as i go!)

Senna was kidnapped at the same time Gale was, they were unwittingly heading right towards each other and would have crossed paths had the mindflayers not intervened

Sennas are yellow flowers, and the name also means “brightness”

Has the social skills of a potato (no rizz but Gale is captivated by her musk & ferocity)

Don't let her grumpy wolf snarl fool you; she has big wet puppy eyes and a heart of gold

Would do anything for a wedge of Waterdhavian cheese

Loves to play the flute by the campfire

The rose tattoo on her neck represents her last name as well as the cottage where she grew up (her father grew climbing roses)

Refuses to use the tadpole. She doesn't like not being in control of her own mind and doesn't trust it for a second.

Senna has always been entirely herself, comfortable in her own skin, and isn't one to doubt herself or feel insecure - except when it comes to Gale's relationship with Mystra. For a while she's like, how can I compete with a literal goddess!? But these fears are put to rest when she realises how much Gale adores her, and how much more meaningful their relationship is due to them being on equal footing and truly wanting what's best for each other

She's sentimental and keeps everything people give her, every letter and every gift; her favourite letter is the one she got from Mirkon after saving him from the harpies

She collects pretty things on her travels like feathers, gems, shells etc and adds them to her hair and clothes / keeps them in her camp chest / gifts them to her companions

Her dad, Rowan, was gruff and reserved but also a gentle sweetheart, and adored his daughter more than anything

Senna always knew that she would long outlive her father, considering she is an elf and he a human, but to lose him when she was still so young was utterly devastating. She thought they would have many years left together, listening to his stories, picking berries in the sunshine, running with the wolves, and then suddenly, he was weak and withered, then just…gone

Senna wakes up before the sun every morning with boundless energy, whistling and humming to herself while she gets ready for the day

She makes all her own clothes

She writes and draws pictures of all the flora and fauna she sees on her travels (that's why she carries a notebook everywhere)

Gale x Senna (weavewolf)

Their favourite date is a picnic in the woods with stargazing; feeding each other cheese and fruit, drinking wine, kissing the taste of strawberry wine out of each other’s mouths, staring up at the sky together, pointing out constellations, and making love bathed in moonlight

Gale felt, as always, that he had to go above and beyond to prove himself worthy to Senna, that he always had to do some huge, grand gesture or woo her with grand feats of magic, but the better he got to know her, the more those insecurities melted away; he could just be himself with her. He didn't have to be perfect. He didn't have to be anything except himself with her. He could just be Gale, nothing more and nothing less. He was all she wanted.

Senna keeps all the poetry Gale writes for her tucked in her various journals

Gale keeps all the drawings Senna does for him in his bag of holding

They love cooking and baking and they collect recipes to make together

Post Game Weavewolf

Their song is Our House by Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young

Senna takes Gale to her old home in the High Forest; the cottage is overgrown with brambles but still intact, so they clear it out together and make it their holiday home, which they come to whenever Senna wants a break from the hustle and bustle of Waterdeep

Gale and Senna split their time between adventuring, living in Gale’s tower in Waterdeep, and living in Senna’s old cottage in the High Forest

Sen takes Gale to the Tall Trees Grove and introduces him to all her old friends; they are all dazzled and charmed by him

They see their tadfriends whenever they can – Astarion comes to stay with them sometimes, they visit Shadowheart on her little farm (Senna loves petting all the animals), they make trips to see Karlach and Wyll in the House of Hope (it’s not hard to get into Hell for an archwizard). Lae’zel pops in by astral projection now and again and very occasionally stops by in person with her son Xan

Gale and Senna don’t have a traditional wedding (they don’t have a traditional relationship) as neither wants a huge fanfare on their special day, they just want to spend it together and with those they love most. They get married a week after Gale asks Sen to marry him, in a small ceremony in the woods with only Tara, Morena, Shadowheart and Astarion in attendance (Wyll and Karlach are busy in hell, Lae’zel is busy with Xan plus leading the rebellion against Vlaakith). I’m sure Elminster visits to congratulate them and share some wine and cheese at some point, too.

Senna naturally wasn’t very comfortable with the idea of living in the city at first, until Gale changed his house for her, magically changing it into an indoor woodland wonderland reminiscent of the High Forest, to make her feel at home. “It's your house too, my love. I want you to feel at home here,” he says to her; then she pounces on him in gratitude and they have hot, passionate sex on a bed of the softest moss, surrounded by butterflies and wild roses.

Over time, Senna warms up to the city, mostly because Gale ensures she doesn’t have to deal with the stresses of city life; everything is at her fingertips when she wants it, but if she doesn’t want to deal with the hustle and bustle, she doesn’t have to; she can just stay in the tower, or she can take one of the portals Gale set up for her directly to High Forest or Ardeep Forest.

Senna and Gale love to take strolls around the city together, once Senna warms up to it; visiting their favourite sweet roll vendor, buying vintage cheeses or various trinkets for their house from local artisans.

They also love attending Waterdeep festivals together, drinking, dancing, playing games and occasionally even chatting to other people (lol). At first the festivals were quite overwhelming for Senna, but she learns to love the joy and community spirit of it all.

Senna adores, and is adored by, Mrs Dekarios; the two frequently have coffee and gossip together

Senna finally won over Tara after growing her some quality catnip

Gale teaches at Blackstaff Academy during the school year and goes on adventures with Senna during the holidays

Gale has fucked Senna over his desk at Blackstaff multiple times

Senna gets into debates with Elminster over the best cheeses when he comes to visit

[fancytigercupcake]

Emma and the Unknown Parasite Emma

[mutable-manifestation]

The Heart of the Matter Ch. 7

Chapter 1 (Parts 1-3), Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6

my understanding of the Guardians of the Universe is that they want to maintain peace in the universe but they’re also kind of assholes, and did some shady shit and had their emotions removed for a while? And then ended up using time fuckery to summon younger Guardians for fresh perspective to help run the corps better/be less asshole-ish.

Idk if Hal in cannon trusts them, but here Hal knows they did some shady shit but also knows they brought in newbies re:time travel to try & be less shady. And he trusts them to mean well even if their methods can be shit, so that’s why he’s trusting that they actually want to help.

(spoiler alert, the Guardians a few billion years ago already decided torture-slavery was a great idea, so bringing in newbies that are their past selves isn’t actually all that helpful)

***

Hal senses the incoming signal long before it arrives in the Batcave to punch him in the face.

He thinks it’s just another Green Lantern, at first.

As much as Oa’s offer of help had been just that - an offer - they’d also tried to impress a sense of importance and urgency on him. That whatever was wrong with Red Hood needed to be managed sooner rather than later. They’d insisted on it, making vague allusions to the danger of leaving it too long.

But Hal had given the Bats a few extra hours to cool off, just in case. So he figures, hey, maybe Oa got antsy and decided he was taking too long.

He feels like an ass putting the guy in a cage when he tries to bolt on them, especially when he looks so terrified.

He does his best to push the feeling aside; the Guardians had warned him that, among their guesses for the cause of whatever was up with him, the symptoms might go beyond simple emotional dysregulation to include psychosis, delusions, and possible hallucinations - among who knows what else.

That he may not be capable of thinking clearly.

Still, he’d hoped he wouldn’t have to restrain him.

Aaaaand of course Bats’ attempt at being comforting falls about as short as is possible.

Hal doesn’t get a chance to reassure the guy. He’s too distracted by the other Lantern; whoever it is is closing in faster than expected.

Closer now, they shine brighter than any Lantern ever has against his senses. He can just feel the faintest brushes of ‘protectiveness,’ even.

Somehow.

Then the only thing he’s feeling is the fist ramming into his nose.

He drops Hood and slams into the far wall, mind swimming with pain and confusion and betrayal.

Except when he looks up he isn’t met with another Green Lantern.

Instead, he meets eyes with a stranger - some kind of glowy meta with a royalty theme or an alien he just isn’t recognizing.

It rubs Hal the wrong way, how he looks at him.

Like Hood had, almost. Plenty of disgust, plenty of horror, but all of the fear is swapped out for rage.

It had felt wrong enough caging Hood, even if he was only trying to help. But now this….

Well there’s an unknown in the batcave holding their possibly-ill-with-a-space-disease-and-or-parasite brother and just attacked their ally, so of course the bats attack, cutting off whatever the unknown might’ve been about to say in favor of avoiding getting punched.

Just as well, Hal figures. They can talk once he’s got the two of them restrained and the uninvited guest isn’t possibly-about-to-punch-someone-else.

And yeah, okay, he also might have a broken nose and not be in the best mood about it - and holy shit does the guy have a mean right hook.

But in his defense, Bats’ other kids are putting themselves at risk taking swings at the guy. If Hal just stands there and watches because the guy ‘might want to talk, actually’ now, Bats’ll kill him.

He waits for them to get clear before he heads in baseball-bat-first, hoping to herd the guy back into a nearby corner so he can more easily get a cage around him - something made a lot harder by a flying target.

Instead, the guy takes Hood and flees through the ceiling.

Hal stops his attack just in time to avoid battering the cave walls.

He curses under his breath, floating back down to poke at his tender nose, flinching at the sharp sting of it - healing, of course, but still plenty sore.

“What exactly did Hood say to you earlier,” he starts, interrupting whatever Batman was about to say to Oracle. “Because I’m beginning to think something is wrong. And not in the ‘space disease and/or parasite’ kind of way. Unless space diseases and/or parasites that mimic Green Lantern ring signals can somehow give people phasing powers - and whatever else that guy’s deal was. Because he gave off the same feeling Hood did, and he looked more pissed than scared. Which reeeeeally isn’t lining up with my expectations here.”

“We can learn more after we find the unknown and rescue Hood,” Batman answers, turning back towards Oracle.

He is, again, interrupted before he can speak.

“He just was rescued!” Nightwing all but howls. “From us! What Jason said earlier was that he thought your ring was a damn soul! If that’s the second person you’ve sensed like that, what if he was right!?”

“That doesn’t make any sense!” Red Robin yells, throwing his hands up in frustration before Hal could formulate a response. “I mean, what, do we not have souls?”

“Little Wing is still in a fragile state from the pits! For all we know his soul is just- exposed or something and YOU-” Nightwing whirls on Hal, poking a finger towards his face “-are some kind of- some kind of soul-battery using necromancer!”

Hal grimaces at that, looking at his ring and feeling more than a little unease.

He really hopes this is all some kind of misunderstanding.

“We can talk about this later. It is far more likely that Red Hood was just kidnapped than rescued. We need to find him now.”

“They’re in Gotham.”

Oracle and Hal trade looks at the accidental jinx.

Hal can clearly see the blinking red dot on the open screen, so he explains. “I can still sense them. Lanterns have a pretty big radius for sensing each other, and this new guy is…bright, for lack of a better word. Like staring into the sun - y’know, without the whole ‘searing pain and vision damage’ thing.”

“He certainly didn’t travel far,” she muses. “If he can sense you back, it’s possible he wants to talk.”

“Other than the initial blow to Green Lantern, the unknown made no attempt to fight back,” Robin notes. “Merely dodging.”

“He: opened mouth. Possibly: wanted to talk.” Orphan adds.

“Sure has a funny way of showing it,” Hal rubs his nose - mostly healed, thankfully.

“Yes, well, you did have my brother in a cage,” Nightwing says cooly.

Hal winces

“I thought he was having a health crisis! I was trying to help!”

“Help by-!”

“Take it easy,” Oracle interrupts. “Jordan might’ve caged him, but we didn’t exactly do anything about it either. We all messed up today. The path to hell is paved with good intentions, as they say. Let’s see if we can undo some of the road work, hm?”

She pulls up two feeds - a security camera inside of a café and one watching an intersection.

“His signal is coming from a populated café, plenty of foot traffic and no distress calls in the area - a regular Gotham miracle. I glimpsed him passing through the corner of the street cam in civvies, likely to the outdoor seating area, given the coffee he was holding. He also appeared to be talking to someone off-screen. So either he managed to get away from the possible-kidnapper, or we’re made and the person is probably friendly. Either way, we have an excuse to be there in civvies. I could go for some coffee. But first,” she spins around, putting her back to the batcomputer. “Let’s talk Lantern Corps.”

---------------------

Hal explains what he knows about the Lantern Rings, about the battery, about Oa.

He…doesn’t know much. Certainly not enough to sate the endless curiosity of someone like Gotham’s heroes.

He knows how the rings work, the general ‘hows’ of it - that they’re based on willpower, that they are largely self-sustaining, that they very rarely need a recharge on Oa.

He doesn’t know details.

‘Power source’ is way too vague. Way, way too vague when ‘literal souls’ has a possibility of being the answer.

Even if it is, like, a 0.00000000001% chance possibility. Hal would like a solid zero, please and thanks.

(Signal asks what it says about the Guardians' intentions for Hood if the rings are powered by souls, which sets everyone even more on edge.

And Hal…knows the Guardians care about peace in the Universe. He isn’t sure how far they would go to achieve that, but he already knows the answer is ‘too far.’

Knows when the rings were made. Knows the ‘younger’ Guardians they brought in to improve things were from after that time.

…He really hopes Glowstick Guy actually just also has a space parasite.)

Spoiler suggests asking ‘Mr Space Prince.’

They can all agree the guy probably has at least some of the answers they need, here, but they’re all hesitant to go charging in.

They don’t want to make Hood feel trapped.

(Nobody wants to make the same mistake a second time. Even without Glowstick’s intervention, it only took a little distance from the situation for them to start berating themselves about jumping the gun.

The sense of urgency the Guardians have given him - and that he had in turn given the Bats - was a lot more suspicious with this new context. Artificial. Insidious, if Hood’s feeling about his ring was correct.

And oh wow Hal had never wanted a Bat to be wrong as bad as he did right now, a chill of unease trailing up his spine at the thought.)

Instead, they contact the other Lanterns - no information about the ongoing case, just framing it as Batman’s incessant Need To Know Things getting the better of him.

All of the others were off-planet when the party happened, Hal being the only Lantern that could make it - the schedules wouldn’t line up for everyone to meet him at once no matter how they worked it. With so many people in the League, barring high-level threats? Thems the breaks - so they’d intended to meet Hood individually at a later time.

This meant none of them knew what had happened yet, so no worries about them reporting back Oa.

Which would be very important to avoid if it turned out the Guardians had….

Well, suffice to say it was a good thing they were in the dark. Where Hal would like to keep them until he knew for sure one way or another.

None of them know any more than Hal does.

Judging by the cameras around the café, Hood is still there.

They want to give him more time to cool off from the inevitable…maybe anger, maybe fear. They doubt any of their presences would help at this point.

But answers might. He’d been terrified not knowing why he was so scared.

When they ask to run some tests on his ring, Hal offers it up willingly.

---------------------

Tests don’t help.

Whatever energy the ring gives off interferes with the scanners, leaving them with nothing but junk data.

Signal’s vision is of no use - it’s just a ring, stable in his vision as any other inanimate object, if a bit brighter. But that would be expected even without souls being thrown into the mix.

And of course, with their ever-incredible luck, the JLD are all unreachable.

Two hours later and they haven’t learned anything they didn’t already know.

Two hours closer to the Guardians learning something is up; a disastrous outcome if it is a worst-case scenario.

Hal can’t join them, of course, since Hood wants to keep his secret identity a secret.

However, Nightwing promptly vetoes any of them going.

“We are going to call him,” Nightwing doesn’t demand, he states. “We are going to apologize, and we are going to ask if he’s willing to talk - in person or otherwise. We are not going to make him trust us any less than he already does - assuming there’s anything left to damage.”

The last part is a mutter, but everyone hears him loud and clear, grimacing or fidgeting their weapons or shifting from foot-to-foot.

They make the call on the batcomputer - after making Hal swear on his life to remain silent, lest he set him off somehow.

For all that they called, all of them are shocked when Hood actually picks up.

“I know what’s going on, if you’re willing to actually listen to what I have to say this time.”

A collective wince.

“Little Wing, I’m s-”

“Save it.” Hood snaps venomously, cutting off Nightwing’s attempt to apologize. “The only reason I am talking to you instead of shooting you all in the fucking kneecaps and promptly fucking off for the rest of eternity is because there is some major shit happening right now and Danny insists on trying the ‘talking things out’ option first. Civvies. My apartment. 30 minutes. Bring everyone, and tell Green Lantern his ass had better be there. And if it turns out he knew anything about this? May God have mercy on his soul, because I won’t.”

And on that incredibly ominous note, the call cuts off.

“Well that went well,” Hal deadpans.

“Considering my kneecaps are still bullet free, I’d say it actually did,” Red Robin says, voice tinged with disbelief. “Given what he was like at his worst and everything that just happened? That was downright civil.”

“Not instilling a lot of confidence here, Red.”

“Then take confidence in your continued cluelessness,” Robin offers from the base of the stairs. “And hurry up, we have a meeting to make.”

***

Gee, I wonder what the JLD could be so busy with

Up Next: Jason gets the scoop on the Lanterns, freaks out, debates the merits reverting to the ol' head-in-a-bag technique. The apartment meeting happens. GL & the batfam get to have a turn with the panic (and round 2 of beating themselves up)

Tags:

@skulld3mort-1fan @kyrianclawraith @jesimilu @bleuyellow93 @ocearnawrites @undead-essence @violet-catsarelife @sunsetdew0101 @tsukihimeyfan @the-legal-shipper @spideypoolalways @mariendall @jesus-camp-the-sequel @jotaroslooseeyebrowhair @akikoyuii @mrowsters @do3y @aikoiya @joaniejustwokeup @wwwwyamd @fox-sama97 @britcision @tealty @apersond @v-inari

[spacetrashpile]

Masterlist of MOTW Resources

Have you ever wanted to play MOTW but had trouble finding the resources for the game? Well, here you go, PDFs of everything you might need in one place! As inspired by @freemotwresources's Masterlist of Playbooks. A list of everything in the folder can be found below the cut.

GAME MECHANICS

Revised Mystery Worksheet: The latest version of the "mystery planning" worksheet, a fillable sheet to help the Keeper plan each mystery.

Revised Hunter Reference Sheet: A reference sheet for all the moves every Hunter can do, plus some extra +Weird moves for Hunters that cannot Use Magic, as well as some more specific Magic options. There is also some other tips for running the mystery as the Keeper.

Playbooks and Teambooks: A list of all (official) MOTW Playbooks giving ratings to each Hunter's skill with fighting (Action), skill with research and other aspects of mystery hunting (Mystery), how many weird powers they get or strange things happen around them (Odd), how much the inclusion of the playbook will influence the game's story (Story), and how much the playbook needs the rest of their team to succeed (Team). Basically just a guide on how the official playbooks will affect the game.

PLAYBOOKS (OFFICIAL)

The Chosen: Your character is the chosen one in a prophecy.

The Crooked: Your character is a criminal.

The Divine: Your character has powers from and/or is chosen by a deity.

The Expert: Your character specializes in monster hunting.

The Flake: Your character is a conspiracy theorist.

The Gumshoe: Your character is a detective.

The Hex: Your character is a self taught magic user who's magic has terrible side effects.

The Initiate: Your character is a cultist.

The Monstrous: Your character is a monster.

The Mundane: Your character is a normal person.

The Pararomantic: Your character is in a relationship with a monster.

The Professional: Your character works for a monster hunting agency.

The Searcher: Your character is dedicated to studying the unknown.

The Snoop: Your character is a reporter.

The Spell-Slinger: Your character is a magic user.

The Spooktacular: Your character is or was apart of a creepy circus.

The Spooky: Your character has powers from a mysterious source.

The Wronged: Your character's loved one was killed by a monster.

PLAYBOOKS (UNOFFICIAL)

The Apprentice: Your character has a mentor.

The Athlete: Your character is a student athlete.

The Big Game Hunter: Your character hunts monsters for sport.

The Braggart: Your character is "too good" for the other hunters.

The Brat: Your character is a trained hunter in a child's body.

The Constructed: Your character is an inhuman construct.

The Cryptid: Your character is a cryptid/urban legend.

The Cryptozoologist: Your character studies monsters.

The Deathless: Your character is hard to kill.

The Demonic: Your character makes demonic pacts with people.

The Displaced: Your character has time traveled here from the future and doesn't know why.

The Doomed: Your character has run out of luck as is about to die.

The Earthbound: Your character gets power from the earth.

The Exile: Your character is a monster hunter from the past sent to the future.

The Foreigner: Your character is an extraterrestrial living among humans.

The Hard Case: Your character has been in the game for a while and has many skills as a result.

The Henderson: Your character is a crazy old person.

The Mad Scientist: Your character specializes in the science of the supernatural.

The Meddling Kid: Your character is a Scooby-Doo style meddling kid.

The Mystic: Your character practices magic how most Wiccans/witches practice today.

The Operative: Your character used to be The Professional, but has left their agency.

The Ordained: Your character is apart of a supernatural/magical religion.

The Parasite: Your character is a parasite who's stolen the corpse of a dead hunter.

The Pest: Your character is extremely annoying.

The Protector: Your character is dedicated to protecting someone.

The Risen: Your character has come back from the dead.

The Science Guy: Your character does science.

The Scout: Your character is a girl/boy scout.

The Secret Seeker: Your character finds and keeps secrets.

The Sidekick: Your character is the sidekick to another Hunter. (similar to the Apprentice but plays differently and made by different people)

The Skeptic: Your character is a skeptic monster hunter.

The Star: Your character is a famous musician.

The Stranded: Your character spent a long time stranded in strange lands.

The Summoned: Your character was summoned to bring the apocalypse, but doesn't want to.

The Thrillseeker: Your character hunts monsters for fun.

The Time Traveler: Your character has time traveled from the future to help the other Hunters save the world.

The Tracker: Your character specializes in tracking things down.

The Traveler: Your character comes from an apocalyptic future.

The Unkindled: Your character is a fallen hero brought back from the dead. (A tribute to the Dark Souls game)

The Veteran: Your character is a grizzled monster hunter who's getting too old for this.

NOTE: The Brat, Foreigner, Parasite, Stranded, and Unkindled playbooks are all found in the same PDF.

[archive-of-fear]

Name: The Organism

Source: The Thing (1982)

Category: Creature

Alignment: The Stranger, the Flesh

Description: The Organism (or Imposter/Alien/Thing etc) is a hive-mind of parasitic cells with the ability to shapeshift, replicate, and mimic any living organism whose DNA it has come into contact with. It can infect and assimilate any organic host by introducing it’s own cell into their system and having it take over their cells, effectively turning the host into another instance of itself. When it successfully assimilates a host, it will pretend to be the original person or animal for as long as possible and subtly infect anyone around it. It can often perfectly imitate whatever organism it has taken over/replicated, going as far as to be able to display their personality and recall memories. This is likely due to the brain still being in tact, which then further blurs the line between the original host’s consciousness and assimilated one. It’s ultimate goals beyond survival and assimilation are unknown.

While the Organism can be damaged and injured, it can only be truly destroyed on a cellular level, such as fire and acid. It can maintain and sustain a body that lacks any amount of vital organs. It appears to be able to retain the DNA of past hosts. It typically will not fully mimic a species it has taken on in the past, instead preferring to use pieces and parts to alter it’s current body. It is, however, somewhat limited to which form it is currently taking. It has been shown to inherent the physical problems a host might’ve had, as shown when it imitating Norris, it suffers from a heart attack during a confrontation with MacReady (as this put it in a position where it was forced to reveal itself, I doubt this was a choice they made). Shapeshifting for them is a slow, grotesque process, thus it is more advantageous for the Organism to remain hidden among it’s host’s species/group. It’s ability to perfectly mimic someone in both personality and physicality make it nearly impossible to differentiate from anyone else.

[crimsonlyinglilly]

No. 27: VOICELESS

Laboratory | Muzzled | “I have no mouth and I must scream.”

Here's Day 27 of @whumptober 2024, late again

back to Freedom in Fur

follows Guilt Set 2x06 of The Originals

---

Elijah struggled to open his eyes to glare at the chains that once held him.

The weakness mother’s spell had caused him, or as he was forced to accept had returned to him as he recognised the familiarity of the aching exhaustion his body felt, had left him in a losing battle to remain awake.

And in his sleep he was running from the beast she had forced him to realise he was and the howling shadow he was starting to think was the death he should have died at six.

It was hard to deny Mother tale as he had felt the link, one he wasn’t aware of, to Niklaus break during the spell. She had left afterward, leaving him alone to feel his strength sap away. To remember the faint memories of illness before Niklaus’ birth or realise the memories of aching chest with every breath and shaking limbs weren’t from a bad illness but his normal life.

She had returned later to give him the choice of a new body and he had refused, even when she unchained him to show how weak he had become as he had followed into her arms and hadn’t been able to push her away.

She had laid him on the floor gently, claiming regret at being forced to do this to him and trying to convince him to agree to her plan, to steal another’s body, in return he had aimed cruel words at her weak points, smirked as he enraged her.

Even made physically weak and useless he always knew where to strike with his words.

Of course, her apparent regret failed to remain after that and she threw more unknown truths at him, forcing him to remember his worst acts, things he had hidden from himself.

He had killed Tatia.

The horror and his denial had proven too much for his weakened body and he had passed out.

When he had woken next and he still refused, she rambled about the child he once was as he had laid there helpless before she had muttered another spell and slit his throat to force him to relive his monstrous acts.

When he had woken after that it was his mother watching him asking him if he had come to accept her deal. He once again refused but found it difficult to get the words out, even that zapped the little strength he had and he fell back into the dark.

To the woods, to feeling young and small, to facing the worst of himself and running from a hunting shadow.

That was the start of the cycle that now had him glaring at the chains above him as he felt his strength fail him again, he was barely aware of Esther and Finn in his brief moments of consciousness.

There was a level of horror in this he wasn't allowing himself to think of, because if he did he'd give in and accept. It wasn't the uselessness his current state left him feeling like, or the bone deep exhaustion and aches, or the helplessness as he could do nothing to escape her soft touches.

It was the lack of an end, even with the weakness he could not die without a white oak.

Neither he or Niklaus had been aware of the link but now broken Elijah was very aware of its absence and the knowledge there was no fixing it.

He had been a parasite surviving off Niklaus’ strength and was without it he was being used a bit to lure Niklaus to Esther.

He starts to catch some sort of noise from outside, his supernatural senses still working even as everything fails, but he finds himself drifting off despite it.

—

Elijah found himself in his mind, the white hallway of many doors, a familiar red door standing stark among them.

“You've come to me.” His own voice called he could hear the cruel smirk in his voice. “That makes this easier.”

He looked up at the cold amused expression of himself.

A low growl came from his other side making him look from the bloody beast in a suit to the shadow that had been chasing him.

A large black wolf snarled, teeth bared.

He threw himself forward and through the plain white door unsurprised to find himself in the woods again, he didn't stop and kept running.

—

Klaus’ concern of a dead man’s return vanishes when he finds Elijah, unchained and still on the floor. Without hesitation he found himself on his knees beside him and lifting his brother up to wake him, looking around to find nothing keeping his brother down.

“Wake up, brother.” he called, placing a hand on his brother’s cheek, something about the picture was wrong even as his mind failed to find what it was. “Elijah. I'm here.” he added as gently shook him.

“He won't wake.” the soft words came from behind him as he froze, turned to look as Esther stepped towards them “And even when he does he’ll be too weak. Which gives you and I one last chance to discuss my offer.”

Klaus swallowed his rage, furious at the sight of her, at her confidence as he carefully laid Elijah back down. 

even when he does, he’ll be too weak. 

“What have you done?” he asked calmly as he checked over his brother’s body, there was blood from his capture and from a slit throat but everything was healed, there appeared nothing to keep his brother unresponsive, “You promised me Elijah's safe return.”

 “I broke the link between you.” Esther answered, making him blink at her.

“What link?” He started before the ghost from outside returned to his mind “is this all a trick, just like that ghoulish atrocity outside claiming to be my father, back from the dead?

“Your father's return is real.” she told him, and he hated the shiver of hope that grew inside him, hope and pain, weakness he couldn’t have now, with his family in danger, Esther and Finn aiming for Hope, Elijah-

Something was off with Elijah beyond his unresponsiveness and he didn’t know what it was.

 “I pulled him from the Other Side before it collapsed,” she spoke again, pulling his attention from Elijah “and left him in the Bayou to join the wolves. And, I used the execution of one of his own to draw him here, where I knew he'd find you.”

“To what end?” he hissed, “Besides my torment?”

“ I brought him here to be the father you never had.” she appealed to him as he stared up at her in disbelief and rage, ignoring the burning of his eyes “To teach you to be the man you always longed to be. Once you are remade as a werewolf, you can join him.”

He forced himself to stand up and step away from Elijah Esther’s words making it hard to think past the rushing sound of his blood and pure incensed rage.

All his life she made him live a lie, to protect herself, left him to face Mikael’s cruelty, made him into a vampire and sealed half of himself away. And now she was offering the Father she kept from him to make up for killing Hayley taking and torturing his brother, going after his daughter.

The best parts of him and Esther had targeted them and she thought the gift of a long briefed longed for daydream would make up for it.

“His return changes nothing.” he told her slowly as he stepped closer.

"It changes everything. It is my gift to you, Niklaus. " she started unaware that every word just grew his hatred for her.

A gift? a man he didn't know because of Her to replace his Daughter. Elijah blooded and still, left on the floor, deaf to him, no doubt having under suffered her.

"This offer is your last chance at salvation." his mother-Esther just kept talking, "Reject me now, and you will live out your endless days unloved and alone. Do not refuse me out of some ancient spite--"

"Not spite. Hatred." he interrupted her. "A pure and perfect hatred that's greater now than the day I first took your life!" he snapped his voice raising as he spoke.

–

Elijah managed to open his eyes again back to the stone and chains, muffled words got his attention before Esther's frustrated voice carried itself to him before it was cut off by a thump.

“BECAUSE YOU CAME FOR MY CHILD! MY DAUGHTER! Your own blood!” roared a voice he knew too well.

Niklaus, he tried to speak to find himself voiceless, the word getting stuck in his throat, for a terrified moment he feared the weakness had spread leaving him mute before he realised it was his body struggling to breathe.

“You- don't- understand!” Esther choked out and Elijah allowed himself the pleasure that he wasn’t alone in his struggles even as he noticed his eye lids getting heavier.

“MY. CHILD!” Klaus shouted the words bouncing off stone and Elijah hated that even that volume wasn’t enough to keep him awake.

“Niklaus! I ha-” Esther gasped as she tried to argue but Elijah heard no more as he fell back into the woods before he could get either of their attention.

—

Klaus ignored the pain in his head, tightening his grip around her throat.

“You declared war when you came after my family.” he told her, taking a breath and all he smelt was copper from his nose bleed “And, for that, I will make you suffer as only I can.” he smirked as he listened to her wheeze, “After all, I am my mother's son.” he sneered as he threw her to the ground, barley glance to her struggling to catch her breath before returning to the more important person.

He lifted Elijah careful and left without another look at her.

It’s only as he steps out the crypt that he finally noticed the thing about Elijah’s stillness that had bothered him, Elijah breathing was wrong.

Even in his sleep Elijah’s breathed, unnatural for him and his siblings but it was worse than that, Klaus could feel each hitched breath under his hand, hear his brother’s lungs laboured as they struggled.

He was torn between returning to Esther to demand answers and getting Elijah as far from her as possible.

It was the small movement that made his mind up as Elijah woke for a moment looking at him, his lips shaping his name. Elijah lost consciousness again before either of them managed to say a word.

He bypasses the rest of the compound to arrive in Elijah's room, laying him carefully on his bed. 

He leaves his hand on his brother’s head, running figures over his hair and waits on the tiny hope that the change in position would fix his brother’s unnatural breathing.

It doesn’t and he finds himself snarling at his own weakness- uselessness as Elijah sleeps on.

“What's wrong with him?” Hayley asked when she returned to the compound to find Klaus hovering over his brother, still sleeping on the bed, still struggling to breath.

“I don't know.” he admits to her barely looking away from his brother’s chest, the blood stained white chest rising  and falling inconsistently “this may be another attempt to force my hand to join her beside my father’s return.” he added

“Mikael?” she asked her hand on his shoulder forcing him to look from Elijah to see her.

“No.” he corrected, she blinked.

“Your- blood father the-” she started slowly.

“Wolf,” he finished for her, the sheer unthinkable foolishness of his mother’s plan bringing a bitter chuckle as he rethought of if, it was either laugh for break something and Elijah would disapproved of the latter, “yes she thought him enough to buy my-”

“Niklaus” a barely there whisper made them both freeze and they spun.

In the blink of an eye, they both of them were by the bed.

“Elijah!” They called in time with each other as they found him awake on the bed. Both gave him space to sit up, but Elijah made no attempt to move; instead he just stared at them, as if even that took too much effort.

What had Esther done? Something shuddered inside Klaus like terror.

—

“Get him.” Elijah wheezed, chest aching with even that much.

“What- Elijah what has mother done to you?” Niklaus demanded, his hand on Elijah's cheek.

“Your father.” he choked, exhaustion swallowing him already, “He knows. help.” 

“We will” Hayley promised as her hand curled around his own limp one and wished he had more time, more strength to return that comfort, but he knew he was running out of both so he kept his eye on Niklaus’.

“Link.” He managed before he lost his battle to stay awake, unseen to Elijah, Klaus’ eyes widened.

---

Elijah stumbled over a branch and started running as he found himself in the woods, the lighter sound of his little brother giggles echoing from in front of him.

“You cannot catch me, Elijah!” Niklaus shouts young and bright.

Elijah feels like he had forgotten something.