#an entire human race is being slaughtered as we speak

[dancingastralwitch]

I hope you're all aware of what's going on in Palestine. If you're not, they lost contact with wifi yesterday night and Israel are bombing hospitals, houses, shelters, and schools, using white phosphorus in real time, which is an internationally-banned weapon.

Palestinians are being annihilated in real time in the dark without access to internet. Israel already cut off water, electricity, food, and most hospitals in Gaza have already shut down. They have a full blown medical crisis, the ministry of education announced that the 2023-24 school year was cancelled because all the students are DEAD.

Last night, the bombing made the sky ORANGE. You could see Gaza on fire from the Egyptian border.

I'm going to reblog resources where you could find more information, and I'm gonna ask you all to do the same. Please. Palestinians are humans just like the rest of us, and the world wants them gone without question.

Don't let Israel get away with this.

[grailfinders]

Grailfinders #334: Koyanskaya of Dark

today on Grailfinders we’re building Koyanskaya one final time. this time, of Dark! as much as I would love to complain about having to look at her face for even one second longer than necessary after Tunguska, this build was actually pretty interesting to set up. after all, there aren’t a ton of ways to fling meteors at people.

we can get that, plus make the build super literal by being a Shadow Sorcerer. we’re also going to make her a Shepherd Druid so we can summon some of that slaughter beast troupe, and so you can turn into a fox. or really any animal you want, aside from maybe a Tyrannosaurus.

with all that out of the way, let’s get started on the third and final koyanskaya build, below the cut! (if you’d rather just read the character sheet, that’s over here.)

next up: What if I say I’m not like the others? What if I say I’m not just another one of your plays?

Ancestry & Background

I know we went harengon last time we made koyanskaia, but 1. she doesn’t use guns in this one so the “hare trigger” pun isn’t as funny, and 2. we need a feat first thing, so now she’s a Custom Lineage. they didn’t really have a race for the congealed suffering of millions of animals anyway, but at least this gives you a +2 to Charisma, as well as some Darkvision to style on those hominids, and the Weapon Master feat for +1 Dexterity and proficiency in four weapons of your choice, like a whip, and three other, better weapons. fun fact, I built this whole thing using the trial quest, where koyanskaya’s locked in her third ascension, so I straight up didn’t realize she had a whip until the build was practically over. hence the bad feat. egg on my face, but I don’t think there’s a better way to get good weapons in this build anyway, level nine spells are a pain to build around. 

but, the more things change the more they stay the same- she’s still a Faceless, giving her proficiency in Deception and Intimidation. there are some people who would call her voice lines persuasion attempts, but I try to make these builds system-agnostic.

Ability Scores

your number one ability this time around is Charisma- you managed to fool one of the greatest Chinese sages of all time and the entire FGO fanbase into thinking you were Tamamo. one of those feats is more impressive than the other, but I’m madder about the latter, so it’s still staying in the script. also all your magic comes from being who you are- inspiring, and a charisma trait.

your second highest score is Wisdom. animals are great with animal handling, and you sure are animals! also most godly casters get their stuff from wisdom, and you are a god. somehow. what the hell is going on in your final ascension is still pretty unclear to me.

anyway, moving on! number three, Dexterity. you like whips and hate armor, that one’s pretty open and shut. fourth is Constitution because you’re so good at not dying you don’t even die after we kill you a good million times.

all that means your Strength is a little low. I’m sure dark has the same human hurty powers as light, but you fight with a whip and magic, and neither of those are strength-based, so we can ignore the greatswords this time around.

finally, we’re dumping Intelligence. you weren’t even raised by wolves, and just thinking about Tunguska makes my head hurt so I can’t imagine how badly it affects the people living it.

Class Levels

1. Sorcerer 1: sorcerers get their specialties right off the bat, so as a Shadow sorcerer you start off with Eyes of the Dark, an extra 60’ of range on your darkvision. on top of that, at level three you get the Darkness spell for free, and if you cast it using just sorcery points you can see through it.

speaking of, you learn Spells starting this level that you can cast using your Charisma. I wasn’t able to get a true curse to complete dark’s goddess morph, but I got fire and poison coming your way, plus plenty of other debuffs to help you squash humanity. one of the best is also one of the earliest- Silvery Barbs. when a human of your choice tries to make an attack, check, or save and succeeds, you can make them re-roll. if they fail this time, you can give a nearby beast advantage on their next attack, check, or save for a little bit. it’s a debuff for some, a buff for others, just like most of your skills.

you also get the Mind Sliver cantrip to eat away at people’s saving throws, as well as Light, Thunderclap, and Booming Blade because hoo boy there sure was a lot of that in Tunguska that day.

finally, you get Mage Armor for a +3 to AC and plot armor so thick that even after turning yourself into a raid boss you turn into an egg instead of dying, and then come back to life twice to boot.

two more things- you have proficiency in Constitution and Charisma saves, as well as Persuasion and Religion. we’ve already gone over your charisma, as well as the fact that you’re at least part god.

two, you have the Strength of the Grave, so once a day you can stay at one HP when you should be knocked out by making a charisma save of five plus the damage taken, letting you get ready for another round of raiding. worth noting, however, this won’t save you from radiant damage or critical hits, so if we ever get a rerun make sure to pack Gawain and Kojirou. wait, they’re hominids… Tamamo Cat and Asterios maybe?

2. Sorcerer 2: second level sorcerers are a Font of Magic, giving you sorcery points equal to your sorcerer level each long rest. you can spend them to make new spell slots, or spend spell slots to make new points. this isn’t an equal exchange, so this is just and extra spell slot a day right now.

speaking of spells, I know Dark doesn’t get Sleep in-game, but it’s a hell of a debuff, especially at low levels. I choose to believe that if Tunguska happened during part one, she’d be a sleep spammer. you cannot prove otherwise.

3. Sorcerer 3: third level sorcerers get Metamagic, little beast things that make you a little harder to deal with. by spending sorcery points you can make a spell either Heightened or Careful, the former making it harder for one creature to save, the latter guaranteeing up to five creatures save. you’ve got some big AoEs coming, it’ll be nice to make sure your animals survive. or just. make sure that one annoying human bites it. they’re mutually exclusive, but I’m sure you’ll make the right choice.

you also start getting second level spells this turn like Spray of Cards. this is our first “turn into a giant shadow fox” option. it’s not quite cloaking your entire body in darkness yet, but it will blind nearby creatures for a round and deal damage at the same time. maybe the real curse was the 52 pickup we made along the way.

4. Sorcerer 4: fourth level sorcerers get their first Ability Score Improvement, so bump up that Charisma. we also pick up the Infestation cantrip this level for some poison damage and a humble start to our murder troupe, as well as the Flaming Sphere spell. this fulfills our fire damage quota, and is a cheaper meteor to throw at people when you just can’t be assed to burn a ninth level spell slot.

with this spell, you can summon a 5’ tall meteor that floats around, and anything next to it needs to make a dex save or they’ll take damage, then as a bonus action you can move the ball around and even ram it into people. it hovers, but it can jump gaps, and even set stuff on fire around it.

5. Sorcerer 5: fifth level sorcerers get Magical Guidance, letting you spend sorcery points to re-roll failed skill checks. boom, instant business acumen. you’re welcome. you also get third level spells now, and I can think of no greater curse than Hold Person. you force a wisdom save on someone, and if they fail they’re Paralyzed for up to a minute, with rerolls each round. paralyzed creatures can’t do anything on their turn; automatically fail strength and dexterity saves; and not only do attackers get advantage to hit them, but those attacks automatically crit when they hit. this spell only works on humanoids, but so do you, so it’s fine.

6. Sorcerer 6: sixth level shadow sorcerers get your third ascension’s buster attack, the Hound of Ill Omen. with this, you can summon a direwolf as a bonus action, with the caveat that it’s only medium sized and technically not a beast any more. when summoned you sic it on a target, which it then exclusively moves towards and attacks, ignoring everything in its way- thankfully, it can phase through walls. it’s biggest strengths are that it can knock enemies prone for more advantage on attacks, as well as give its target disadvantage on saves against your spells while it’s next to them.

to make the most of this, force your enemies to make a billion saves with Melf’s Minute Meteors, tiny rocks you summon as an action and then can flick a few of them at enemies each turn. when they hit something, they explode and force nearby creatures to make dexterity saves. it’s thematic, and denying people their spells is basically buff removal if you think about it.

7. Sorcerer 7: seventh level sorcerers get fourth level spells. we still don’t have any summons, but at least you can Dominate Beasts now. if they fail a wisdom save, you can control the beast for up to a minute, linking you two up telepathically and letting you command them with your mind. these commands can be general, or you can spend your action to take over their body exactly. at higher levels you can increase the length of this power for up to eight hours. sadly we can’t extend your body out for several miles like in Tunguska proper, but this is still a great way to spy on people or get stuff sneakily.

8. Sorcerer 8: eighth level sorcerers get another ASI, letting us cap off our Charisma fairly early and get a point into Dexterity to boot. that being said odd numbers do nothing, so it’s not great right away. if you’re confused as to why we’re doing this then you might be under the effect of Confusion. if you didn’t fail a wisdom save and aren’t randomly doing things, you’re probably safe though. yeah, we’re still trying to find a debuff that can replace curse damage. tbh anything can be a curse in D&D, so I guess all these spells are fine?

9. Sorcerer 9: you know what’s better than fine though? fifth level spell slots. we still can’t summon animals, but we can Animate Objects and say they’re animals! with this, you can “summon” up to ten “animals” of small or tiny size, or add in some larger “animals” for double the cost per size larger they are. tbh the biggest and smallest animals are usually the best picks, but it’s totally up to you how you do this. at max level you could summon up to two huge creatures, so I guess that’s the break bars covered for your boss fight. murder troupe acquired!

10. Sorcerer 10: tenth level sorcerers get another kind of Metamagic, and the Distant spells will double the range you can cast a spell. you’re going to get some big blasts by the end of this, and trust me, you don’t want to be standing right next to them.

we also get another great “curse damage” option this level from the cantrip Chill Touch, which hits someone with necrotic damage and prevents them from healing for a round. you can also empower your beast backup with Skill Empowerment, giving a target creature expertise in a skill they’re already proficient in. you can still only get your wolf to do wolf things, but now it wolfs harder than ever before.

11. Sorcerer 11: eleventh level sorcerers get sixth level spells like the Investiture of Flame! eh, eh? see what I did there? Investiture, like the taigong wang thing.

anyway, you can cast this and for up to ten minutes afterwards you’re immune to fire and resist cold, force nearby creatures to take fire damage just for being near you, and can shoot fireballs as an action, forcing a dexterity save on everyone in a line. now baby you’re a firework! or a meteor. guess we’ll find out soon enough.

12. Sorcerer 12: at level twelve we get another ASI:, so let’s round up our Dexterity and get another debuff to curse humans with at the same time with the Slasher feat. now you can reduce a target’s speed once a turn when hitting them with your whip, and a critical hit gives it disadvantage on all attack rolls.

13. Sorcerer 13: we’re still a ways away from being a meteor, but at least we can start doing some serious ecological damage thanks to the Fire Storm spell. with this you create, well, a fire storm! the storm takes up a total of 10 10’ cubes that connect to each other, forcing all the creatures inside to make dex saves or take a ton of fire damage. this spell also sets everything in it on fire, but you can choose whether or not that includes plant life. but if you ever wanted to be able to spell out “NFF rulez, Tamamo sux” in big burning letters now you can.

14. Sorcerer 14: at level fourteen you can Shadow Walk as a bonus action, moving up to 120 feet from one area of dim light or darkness to another. I choose to believe that’s how you get into space for your NP. I mean, it’s dark up there, I’m sure it counts. that’s also why your third ascension wears such a big poofy dress- a spot of permanent darkness beneath you everywhere you go.

15. Sorcerer 15: eighth level spell time, and the only one we want it Dominate Monster. it’s like dominate beast, but it works on every kind of creature for up to 1 hour at base level. it’s also an eighth level spell instead of a fourth level spell, so it’s waaaay more expensive. still, a lot of NFF services’ minions are definitely not beasts, so you’ll need this to keep them tamed.

16. Sorcerer 16: sixteenth level sorcerers get one last ASI, and the Elemental Adept feat will help your fireballs ignore resistance and also turn any ones rolled on damage into twos. it’s simple, but it’ll get very useful in just a second.

17. Sorcerer 17: we finally made it. level nine spells, at last. also you can cast Subtle spells, which makes them uncounterable, but there’s nothing subtle about Meteor Swarm. you can launch a meteor up to a mile away, hitting four different spots at once and forcing a dexterity save on everything in the area. it deals 20d6 fire and bludgeoning damage respectively, so that elemental adept we just got kicks the damage floor of this spell up a good 20 points per creature caught in it. it also, of course, sets everything in the area on fire. it was the crown jewel of the Ishtar build, and it still is here. idk what to tell you, big rocks go brrrr.

18. Druid 1: we could’ve hopped over to druid whenever we wanted, but I wanted to get to the Meteor as fast as possible. if you’re not confident in your party’s ability to stick together for nearly 20 levels, feel free to slot this in earlier. as a first level druid you learn a new language plus a new way of casting Spells. now they use your Wisdom and they can be switched out each day. grab the most powerful spell in the game, Druidcraft, and Primal Savagery as your cantrips. there’s nothing wrong with a power pick this late on, and at least PS is thematic.

our druid spells may be weak, but we’re here for buffs anyway. Protection from Good and Evil can protect your precious beasts from celestials, demons, and aberrations, which I’m sure humans are, and you can use Faerie Fire to improve their offense by lighting up some humans so they can’t hide and their attackers all get advantage to hit them.

19. Druid 2: second level druids get to turn into Wild Shapes- we’re already almost 3000 words in, so here’s the cliff notes- only your physical stats change, it’s limited to CR ½ creatures, and you can do it twice a short rest. if you die as a beast you turn back and take the excess damage directly. also no you can’t use your whip while a fox, at least not well.

more importantly, you’re a Shepherd now, allowing you to copy beasts of the world and recreate them at any time to gain their power via a Spirit Totem. as a bonus action you make a summoned spirit that has a 30’ aura, and you can move it as a bonus action- while the options are named after specific animals, you can customize them as you wish. the Bear gives creatures you choose temporary HP and advantage on strength checks and saves. the Hawk lets you spend a reaction to give a creature advantage on an attack and gives allies advantage on perception checks. the Unicorn also grants that advantage, and healing spells also heal creatures in the aura a bit.

you also learn the Speech of the Woods, so you can speak Sylvan and talk to animals.

20. Sorcerer 18: our final level gives us the capstone ability of the shadow sorcerer, the Umbral Form. as a bonus action you can spend six sorcery points to transform into the shadow beast (see I’d told you it would come back), giving you resistance to all damage but radiant and force, and you can move through solid objects to boot, though you take damage if you’re in one at the end of your turn. it lasts for a minute, giving you big “boss monster” vibes. but you’re not the boss monster, that’s coming on the 15th.

Pros & Cons

Pros:

you have access to an ungodly variety of debuffs, so you’ll almost always have something that you can use to trip up an enemy, no matter who they are. you’ve got: sleep, save decrease, disadvantage, damage on movement, blindness, forced movement, paralysis, mind control, heal block, slowdown, and getting knocked prone. combining slasher and your hound can knock someone down to only having ten feet of movement per round, so unless you’re facing a bunch of monks you can shut down humans pretty damn easily. …ah right Wang’s a monk, and Nikitich has a dragon. maybe that’s why you lost?

you can also fire off some serious DPS against crowds, with powerful fire spells boosted by your elemental adept feat, plus you can make the spell heightened and use silvery barbs to even the most problematic of human targets will be easy to hit!

you also get a lot of utility by being able to turn any bird you see into your personal spy camera, and turning any spy camera you see into a bird! …well, it flies around and pecks your enemies, at least. also you can make the party better at anything they’re already good at! expertise is such a good feature they gave it to like three classes already, but why should bards rogues and rangers have all the fun?

Cons:

at lot of that utility I just talked about comes from dominate beast, and there’s plenty of situations that won’t be much help to you. conversely, animate objects can only work on the objects around you, so again, it depends heavily on what you can scrounge up on your own. you always can go in guns a-blazing, but trying for any sort of subtlety will be harder for you.

as flavorful as the druid dip was it doesn’t help much with the overall build. wild shape only lets you turn into CR ½ or worse beasts, so it’s useless in combat, and you could already spy on people as an animal before, and Dominate Beast lets you do it without actually being there so you’re not in danger if you’re found out! Druid has one of the best spell lists for sure, but a) we only have level 1 druid spells, and b) your wisdom isn’t great, so by the time you get them they’re almost always going to miss unless you’re terrorizing commoners.

Koyanskaya’s supposed to be a schemer, but having to dump intelligence this build really hurts that. sure you could probably get away with not involving your int score in your roleplay, but I would’ve loved to make it higher if I could’ve. this also means you’re more likely to be eaten by a mind flayer but they aren’t hominids so it’s fine.

[bestworstcase]

Honestly, I think it would be best if, rather than Salem being vindicated, the Brothers were to be dealt with while Salem is regenerating, and she came back to find that she's been denied her climatic final battle and there's nothing she can do about it.

Like, yes, the Brothers are awful and need to be stopped, but Salem is JUST as guilty of many of the same crimes with all the innocent people she's been willing to sacrifice out of spite.

So I think that a better conclusion to her story would be if, after everything's been resolved and Oz's soul has been freed from the cycle of reincarnation (allowing Oscar to be his own person in the process), someone were to just point out to Salem that she HAD her happy ending and threw it away for nothing.

well the thing though is that—aside from the fact that we’ve already seen how plainly indifferent salem is to that approximate line of reasoning—she… didn’t… do that. after millions of years of profound suffering salem had everything she could possibly want and more—and then her husband went “hey remember the god of light who cursed you with everlasting suffering and then tacitly participated in the slaughter of the entire human race? yeah he sent me back here to redeem humankind from what you, personally, did to piss him off and if we fail he’ll kill everyone again. that cool with you?” and salem went “UM. NO??” so ozma took the kids and left her. the fact that she caught him and they fought about it does not actually make it her fault that he did this to her, nor does lashing out violently in response to a grievous, overwhelming betrayal constitute “throwing her happy ending away for nothing.”

all she did was refuse to bow to a god whose cruel depravity she understands better than anyone else on the planet and who has been nursing a personal grudge against her for millions of years. frankly salem’s initial reaction when ozma told her the truth speaks volumes for how deeply she cared about him and how much she wanted to stay. insert the perennial “but she wanted genocide” quibble here, see previous posts for my argumentation on that; the key point for this discussion is to say that salem did in fact try to work it out by proposing an alternate course of action and ozma walked out on her without another word.

she is not the one who threw her “happy ending” away.

nor, more saliently, do i interpret salem’s motivation as predicated on desire for some abstract ideal of a fairytale ending. in fact i’m unconvinced that salem gives a damn about fairytales at all; her narratorial monologues come across as ambivalent on them at best (“mankind has grown quite fond of recounting the exploits of heroes and villains, forgetting so easily that we are remnants, byproducts of a forgotten past” <- not a positive statement from the woman who throws tables when she’s lied to) and her two songs are even more overt in (correctly) seeing ozma’s use of mythology as calculated deceit. when yang throws this talking point in her face, salem answers it with a shrug and inquires whom she is being blamed for taking away—that is not the behavior of someone who does the things she does because she feels owed a happy ending, especially not when you take into consideration that salem has been shown in other context to be a highly emotionally-driven person.

i suspect her indifference to yang’s accusatory scorn was a simple matter of none of it being remotely relevant to her actual past or present circumstances. the woman is being tortured by the creators of the entire cosmos over a petty grudge, and these kids think “didn’t get to live happily ever after with ozma” is what drives her? they think that’s even on her radar? that’s what the lamp showed them? it’s almost laughable.

also, honestly? if salem got taken out whilst confronting the gods and upon reconstituting learned that they were done and dealt with, i think she’d be stoked. you mean they’re GONE? it’s OVER? humanity overcame their tyrannical creators at last and this time her personal defeat DIDN’T result in another two hundred million years of agonizing isolation and helpless, furious grief? i think she’d be over the fucking moon.

[pathoscleaved]

THE SKELETON'S WIT STRIKES WESKER - IF THEY MANAGED TO STOP FIGHTING, PERHAPS, IN A STRANGE TWIST OF FATE, OR DUE TO THE ENTITY'S BLESSINGS, THEY COULD BE FRIENDS. But perhaps is a strong word here. Very strong.

"I claim no falsehood. I am a god," he says, tone even, mouth betraying a grimace. Being challenged on what he views as his birthright, the one Spencer manufactured... irks him to no end. He wonders if he can rip the Ashen Lord's leg out from under them. If the other would stumble or fall.

"What respect do you speak of? You show me none. This is reciprocal. You decide not to speak to me civilly. I will not do the same."

Wesker flips the knife into a guarding position, blade sticking outwards and up towards the tall figure. Memories of other almost-deaths spike in his mind, and another thought races by: is it possible for Killers to kill other Killers? Is he in actual danger, or is he, by the might of the dark mistress, the Entity, safe?

And though Albert appears to be just of the flesh, he is not human, and grows less human by the day due to his symbiosis with Uroboros. Nearly all of his cells have been replaced by the virus. . .

"I appeared in your corner of the Realm," Wesker huffs, "and I am no blight to the sea. I enjoy the sea! I own a yacht. The sea is my home."

His collection of ships could be compared to a small fleet.

"I know I hunt survivors - the ones that run. The pigs we slaughter? We hook them, do we not? Same. Side."

But then everything goes to hell - maybe literally, with all of the fire - when the skellie lays down the challenge. It is the exact same as an iron gauntlet.

The Ashen Lord's foothold is stable, stable enough that Wesk feels the quiver from Uroboros that danger is coming, and he knows he can't shake the skeleton's posture. The heat is blistering, and he narrowly avoids the white flame. He manages to roll backwards, knife pointed away from him as he moves. The tyrant stands when he is at a safe distance, and suddenly, his knife is placed back in its holster and velcroed back.

"You say fleshie as if you use slurs."

The Mastermind grins a little, and more writhing tendrils start to seep through his clothes. From an outside perspective, it is hard to see if the black goo is making up his clothes, or if he is formed of it entirely.

"I am not made of flesh," he states a moment later, as the virus wraps and slithers around him in a coil, building him to a taller build and height. Uroboros may be weak to fire, but perhaps . . . this fight could cause the resistance?

A fight for evolution.

"I am all-consuming."

A wave of black tendrils surge forth.

     A god? Oh how amusing to hear somebody call themselves such a thing! A pitiful title amongst the living when they only believe in their chosen one or all false idols waiting to be torn down into pieces. Humor dances in their tone this time -- although their ever grim visage could never shift to show off the grin that would be spreading their mouth, “ You can claim whatever divine presence you want, but it means little in the way of respect. ” A little ironic since they had demanded respect moments prior -- but alas, there is a difference between claiming as a lord rather than a god, “ All I see is a pitiful little soul still bound by the weakness of flesh ; boasting divinity when gods are mere stories, images made to manipulate the weak. ”      The Warden does recognize the movements, used to make one harder to hit -- to evade what towers over them. Smaller the posture, the harder it is to hit with precise strikes. Oh, how it reminds them of the days they had their own burden of flesh.      Although, to avoid a stream of searing fire summoned from the skull would be difficult. If they had the intention of burning the other to ash in an instant. Pity their full strength has been barred away by that creature.      When the fire ceases, they let out just one last puff of embers -- the color drained as it comes out in pure white. How the threat of burning alive seems to change the tone of even one who claims to be above the rest of the riff raff of fleshie weaklings.      “ The same side? ” A low laugh, “ What makes you think I would be aligned with you? My master has spoken of no alliances nor do we humour such blights upon the Sea. ” Even if this one is another Killer as those insects have called them, lest their master has said such a simile as an alliance has been formed, they are all unwelcome to the Fortress.      Tone shifts, from the laugh into a growl as the tendrils wrap around their leg. Strange on the sensation, not quite like what they have dealt with in the past. . . fire always does the trick, however, “ Give me a real fight, I've been craving to tear limb from limb a little fleshie since this wretched place came about! ” The foot is planted firmly in the ground, using the weight of the bones and crystals to keep themself in place as well as possible. Then, another breath of fire, this one spewing out as the white the embers had been before.

[zealous-whispers-of-us-redux]

hey jealousy

SMUT AHEAD

Summary: She has known Erik longer than Bucky has been alive, but that doesn't mean he likes seeing them together, especially when Bucky catches them embracing. He sure knows how to make a mess of things.

As the human moves through the forest, he whistles to himself, looking for any prey he may have caught in one of his traps. He makes so much noise as he plods on the ground, his heavy boots and thick, downy coat rustling and thumping in time with his footsteps. He notices that he has caught a giant rabbit, and he grins, excited.

Right above his head, she sits perched in a tree. She hates human hunters. They take and take and take until they've taken everything. She has seen them hunt Steller's sea cows and great auks until they were all gone. She was there when they continually raided the nesting grounds of passenger pigeons and slaughtered them by the millions until they were extinct after only fifty years. Humans are greedy. The stories they write about vampires are a reflection of that.

The human bends down to retrieve his catch, looking all kinds of pleased with himself, and she takes her chance to attack. Leaping from the tree, she sails down, letting her fangs free from her gums. She lands in the grass and races towards the human, who is still busy with his trap.

She is about to take the human down when she sees a blur of movement, and then another vampire is on her prey, wrestling for a moment until the vampire starts to drink and the human is dead. She angrily stalks forward. She waits until the vampire looks up at her before she speaks. She pokes his chest.

“That was mine!” she snaps in German.

The vampire lifts a delicate eyebrow and wipes his mouth the best that he can.

“You were too slow.”

“You are always stealing my meals, Erik. I was waiting in that tree for ages,” she grumbles. “Don't you have enough blood in your territory?"

Erik, whose last name is Lehnsherr, but she thinks his name is really Max Eisenhardt, shakes his head. Blood glistens on his chin, and she stares at it. She licks her lips.

"The humans have all but fled. It turns out that they knew we were there,” he says.

“I told you that it was a bad idea to hide out with an entire group of us,” she points out. “You and Charles are so reckless. I’m surprised you haven’t been caught yet.”

Erik had been turned into a vampire only in 1940 after being almost executed and subsequently buried alive for a failed attempt at escaping from the Warsaw Ghetto. She had met him when she was still in Europe, prowling the land for Nazis to eat after they all but destroyed her beautiful homeland. Erik was newly turned when they met, which meant he was angry. They had fought until Erik collapsed with hunger. She taught him how to hunt and then ran, sure she would never see him again. But they shared one mind, it seemed, when they both ended up in America during the 1960s.

“We are quick enough to evade capture,” Erik says. “Charles can anticipate the humans even before I can.”

She reluctantly agrees with that. Charles is strange. She would say he was a warlock, but she knows he doesn't practice magic. All he can do is sense the unseen. He knows when things are going to happen before they do. She thinks he can even read minds, which is a terrifying thought for a vampire to have that kind of power.

“How is Charles?” she asks.

Even vampires cannot retain the use of their legs. Charles runs slower than the average vampire.

“He's fine. He's been hungrier than normal. I hope that is a good thing.”

"Tell him I have a book I think he'll like."

"I will." Erik pauses, subtly sniffing her. “Wait a minute. You smell different."

“His name is Bucky,” she says with a small smile.

“Alpha wolves use their omegas as nothing more than a breeding factory, you know.”

“I thought that too, but, Erik, I love him, and he loves me.”

Erik still looks suspicious.

“Does he treat you well?”

“Very well. We do things together that I haven't done in decades," she says.

“I've never seen you this happy before."

“I really am. You were right, you know- all those years ago. Life is worse when you spend it all alone.”

Erik concedes with a shake of his head.

“You are the oldest vampire that I have ever met. It's about damn time that you met somebody. But if he hurts you, Charles and I will gut him."

"I know you will. Thanks," she says.

She throws her arms around Erik, who lets her hug him without much fuss.

(From behind a tree, Bucky feels his blood run cold as he watches them. He had caught up to his omega a while ago, hoping to surprise her and take her out. Instead, he stumbles upon this. He wishes he could understand them, but they speak in what sounds to him to be German. Possessiveness and jealousy are overwhelming him. He never thought she would do this to him!)

“What did you say his name was?” Erik asks her.

“Bucky,” she says.

“A fitting name for a dog.”

“That’s what I said!”

They smile at each other, fondness painted across both of their faces.

“It is so good to see you, Erik," she says. "Will I see you when I come next week?"

"Charles says that there are some vampires looking for a place to live. I told him I would find them."

"Of course, you did. What are you up to now- nine?"

"Seven, actually."

"Just be careful, for Gods' sake. I have no idea how you all can fit in that small house you have."

"I always am careful." Erik glances at the sky. "I should get going. The sun will be up before we know it. How far away from home are you?”

“Pretty far. But I will make it back in time. Be safe, all right? I will see you again,” she says.

They hug, and Erik, strangely affectionate today, kisses the top of her head. A loud growl reverberates through the forest, and the two look up, confused.

“I better go. I think your 'alpha’ has caught up to you,” Erik says.

“Bye!” she calls after him as he begins to run for home.

After she can no longer sense Erik, she wanders in the direction that she heard Bucky growl. She feels him behind her, and if thoughts could kill, Erik would be dead and buried. Their bond is flooded with what feels like Bucky's jealousy.

"Hey," she says, electing to ignore it.

“Who the fuck was that?” Bucky asks.

Her voice is calm when she responds, not wanting to start anything:

“Erik. He’s a vampire too.”

“Yeah, I could see that. What the fuck were you doin’, touchin' him like that, huh?”

“It was just a hug, Buck. We haven’t seen each other in years.”

“He kissed you!”

“Yeah, on the top of my head. He's a friend."

“I can smell it all over you, you know. You want him, right? Don’t try an’ hide it. You ever fucked ‘im?”

The smell of the other vamp is all over her, and Bucky's hindbrain is going crazy, yelling its displeasure and stilling all other (more rational) thoughts in his head. He wants to claim his omega again and roughly show her who she belongs to. Him. She belongs to him!

“Are you serious right now?” she says.

“Did you fuck him?”

“No, I have never fucked him. And even if I did, why is it any of your business?"

“But you wanna fuck him, don’t ya? Don’t lie to me! You are mine, you hear me? Do you know how I feel whenever we go anywhere an’ I get to watch all the men in the room slobber over ya? D’you know how that makes me fuckin’ look? It makes me look like an alpha who can’t handle his omega! All these guys want you an’ you just let ‘em look an’ touch you!"

"What? What guys are you even talking about? When has that ever been something that happened?" she asks, feeling exhausted.

"Do you like the attention or somethin’?" Bucky continues, barrelling over her. "Is that it? You’re four hundred years old! How many people have you fucked before me?”

It isn't fair; it just isn't fair! Bucky sees the eyes that follow her everywhere she goes; sees the way she bewitches every creature, human or not, that she meets. She's transcendent and seductive in a way that shows her true age. All her long years alone have taught her to hone her craft. She can curl her lips into a confident smile and have fifty people fawning over her in a second. Bucky loathes it.

She stares, incredulous at what Bucky is saying.

"What?"

“Lemme guess. You've fucked three hundred people? Five hundred? Huh? Tell me!”

“Bucky! Stop it!"

She cannot believe Bucky right now. She has no idea where any of this is coming from but it makes her upset. She lifts her arms and nudges him away from her so that she can collect her thoughts without feeling him growling in her face. He is way too close to her right now.

“HOW MANY?” Bucky roars, pressed up against his omega.

He can't help it, not really. His hindbrain is telling him to put his omega in her place. Bucky has a distinct feeling that he is pushing it, but he can't find it in himself to stop. She looks angry, though, her pretty face twisting up as she levels a red-eyed glare at Bucky.

“It is none of your business how many people I have had sex with,” she says. “It is my life. You do not own me or my body."

Bucky opens his mouth, unflinching, but she snaps her fangs at him.

“How dare you talk to me like this. You don’t know what my life was like before you, and it is none of your business to know that anyway!”

“Hell yes, it is! I’m your alpha! How do I know you ain't going out behind my back and whorin' yourself out to any guy who looks at ya nice? Huh?”

And there it is. Bucky was trying to hold it back, but it flies out of his mouth before he can rein himself in. He regrets saying it as soon as he says it and holds out his hands to her, but she steps further away. Bucky's tongue goes numb as her eyes grow cold and distant. He gnaws on the inside of his cheek, wishing he could take the words back.

“How dare you?” she mutters, and Bucky finds himself missing the yelling, “What gives you the right to treat me this way? I am not your lesser. Your Neanderthal hindbrain may think that, but I’m not. You cannot talk to me this way. I am not some kind of property that you have a claim over. I am not something that needs correcting."

“You’re my fuckin’ omega!” Bucky flares.

“Go straight to Hell,” she hisses before she takes off through the woods fast enough to where he can't follow.

Bucky starts after her, sticking his nose in the air to scent her. His anger continues to simmer in his blood, and he growls, urging her to get her ass back to him right the fuck now. He makes sure to share his anger through their bond as he treks through the dark forest after her, swearing under his breath all the while.

It is a few miles later when Bucky loses her scent entirely. He stops and sniffs the air hard, but he can't detect her. She’s gone, and what’s worse is that he cannot feel her through their bond. He freezes and yips, suddenly very nervous.

“’Mega!” Bucky calls, worried, his anger vanishing quickly.

No answer. No scent. No bond. How did she manage that?

“’Mega, where are you? Answer me, damn it!”

He tugs his phone from his pocket and dials her number. Bucky turns in a circle as he waits for her to pick up, trying to see if he can spot her anywhere. He gets her halting, awkward voicemail message that usually makes him smile, but this time, he curses instead.

“It’s me,” Bucky says. “Where the fuck are ya?”

__

She collapses in the derelict barn that she had stumbled across a few minutes ago and yanks out her phone. It had only been a few hours, but she sees a barrage of texts and voicemails from Bucky, ranging from anger to worry, to sadness, to fear, to an apology, and every other emotion in between.

“It’s me. Where the fuck are ya?”

“This ain’t funny. Pick up your damn phone!”

“What the fuck is your problem? Call me!”

“Look, I can’t find ya, an’ I’m nervous. You okay?”

“How the fuck did you cut off the bond? Are ya safe? Call me back.”

It goes on and on and on. How dare he treat her this way? She had told him time and time again that she was not his thing to own! She is her own person; she is not a piece of alpha wolf chattel. Why does mating with him automatically mean that Bucky gets to rule over every aspect of her life? He is a controlling prick at the worst of times. Jealous and horribly possessive, and sometimes, she hates his guts. She wishes she’d have killed him when she had the chance. (No, she doesn't.) But right now, she is one hundred percent done, mate or not. She does not ever want to see him again.

“Sunshine, I’m sorry, okay? Please, you got me worried sick over here. Wouldja pick up the damn phone?”

“Please don’t do this, honey. I’m so fuckin’ sorry. I was gonna surprise ya an’ take you out on a date. Please come back, huh?”

“I overreacted; I know it. It is none a’ my fuckin’ business who you slept with before me. Call me back.”

“Baby, I am really trying not to panic now, but it has been over eighteen hours, an’ I have no idea where you are! Please, please call me! I’m so sorry for all the shit I said. I’m a possessive fuck, an’ I shouldn’t be! I don’t own ya. I never want you to feel that way. I’m so fuckin’ sorry; will you please come back?”

She scoffs and stuffs her phone back in her pocket without responding to Bucky at all. He can fall off a cliff, for all she cares.

Her skin itches, making her glance down at her body and grunt in irritation. She’d worked off some of her anger by hunting, and she’d made a bit of a mess. The blood is drying on her skin and making her clothes stick to her, so she stands up and makes her way to the stream of water that she had found when she stumbled upon this old farmland.

She tugs her clothes off and sticks them into the water, scrubbing them clean as best as she can. Once they are as good as they can get, she sets them to dry on some rocks and steps into the water. It is warmer than her, and she sighs, her eyes fluttering as she floats. This is a good life. No wolf is breathing down her neck, not giving her an inch to move, and her head is quiet after what seems like years! No more bond! It is bliss. She briefly ponders whether or not she'd be able to escape to Europe without Bucky knowing. She would love to live somewhere she hadn't before. Perhaps she will go to Norway. Or even Denmark. She remembers loving Copenhagen the last time she visited.

Then she remembers that one thing about alpha werewolves (and Bucky specifically) is that they don't ever give up the chase, especially when their ‘prey’ is their omega. A splash breaks her from her reverie, and she stands up, looking wildly around until she spots a very familiar werewolf paddling out to her.

“You can’t swim!” she yells at it, waving her arms.

The wolf ignores her and continues swimming.

“Oh, for Gods' sake. Go away, Bucky!”

She gets out of the water and grabs her still wet clothes, tugging them on. Bucky whines, clear and loud from across the river, and she half-turns towards him, debating. He will either drown or make it over to her and continue treating her as his lesser. She doesn’t want the latter.

No, she thinks. Not this time.

Bucky cries out in pain when she begins to walk away, and the sound of splashing gets quicker. The little shit is frantically trying to make his way over to her, but even as a wolf, he can’t swim and the water is too deep.

“Go home, Bucky!”

"No,” he tells her firmly.

“You figured out how to get the bond back, huh?”

“Yeah.”

“You are going to drown, you absolute moron!”

There is a pause as Bucky struggles for a minute, trying to regain his footing in the water. She groans, exasperated.

“Sorry,” he thinks in a pitiful whimper.

“If you were sorry, you wouldn’t act this way. Jealousy is just low self-confidence in disguise. Are you that insecure in our relationship?” she asks.

He whines. “No.”

“I’m not yours to own, James. Possessiveness does not equal love.”

“Know.”

“Do you, though?”

“Yes!” Bucky says mournfully. “’Mega.”

“Then why are you like this all the time?”

Bucky has finally made it across the extensive body of water. He steps onto dry land, panting tiredly, and shakes himself off. He takes a few steps towards her, but she backs away. He stops immediately and looks ashamed. His tail swishes enticingly, but she ignores it.

“Insecure,” he says.

She breathes out, frustrated. “In our relationship?”

“Me,” admits Bucky.

“Why are you insecure?”

“Afraid.”

“Gods' sake,” she says. “Of what?”

“Leavin'.”

“I’m right here. For now, anyway.”

Bucky whines again, plopping down on the ground and exhaling before he focuses on shifting back. It'll be much easier to communicate with his omega when he can speak to her. He clambers to his feet and rushes over, his hands itching to touch her.

“I’m still mad at you,” she tells him firmly.

That stops him in his tracks, and he looks down at his feet, embarrassed.

“I'm sorry,” Bucky says softly. “You’re right. I don’t own ya just because we mated an’ all a’ that. Possessiveness is ingrained in my hindbrain, but I know that that isn’t a good excuse. I am insecure and afraid that you’ll wanna leave me. Yer much too sweet an’ kind for a guy like me an’ there are so many others that would be better at this- be better at takin’ care a’ you than I. You seemed so close to that guy in the woods, an’ I thought he’d be better suited for you.  I saw red. You deserve better'n me, baby doll, but that don't mean I’m ready to give you up without a fight. ‘Specially to another vamp.”

“Bucky, no. You have it all wrong. Erik is deeply in love with his boyfriend Charles. They’ve been together since the 1950s.”

“Oh,” Bucky says, his voice small. “I didn’t know. You sure looked cozy together.”

“He’s like my brother—an annoying older brother who wants to rid the world of the human scourge and let monsters rule. It's just nice to once in a while run into someone like yourself.”

“Oh. Yeah, 'spose that makes sense.”

"It's hard being surrounded by wolves all the time. None of you have any shared life experiences with me. Erik does, and it's nice to be reminded of that."

“’M sorry,” Bucky says, his voice even smaller. “Can you forgive me?”

“It is so hard when you act like my keeper, Buck. It’s exhausting. I can’t breathe half the time- in a manner of speaking.”

“I know I suffocate you. I dunno what else to say except I’m sorry. I’m so fuckin’ sorry, omega-mine," Bucky fidgets. "You know I’m shit with words. Can I show you how sorry I am? Please, baby? I really wanna."

Fretfully, he twists his hands together and rocks back and forth on his feet, unable to keep still. Bucky feels awful for saying the things he had said to his omega, knowing that she doesn’t fully understand the myriad of emotions that a wolf can feel when they see their mate in the arms of another. His hindbrain growls as the image of her embracing the other vamp flashes through Bucky’s mind. He pushes himself to relax.

“Bucky,” she says. “Why do you keep thinking about it if it makes you so mad?”

“I can’t help it,” he replies guiltily. “My hindbrain won’t let it go.”

“I don’t care about what your dumb ‘hindbrain’ is doing. Forget about it. Erik is a friend, for Gods' sake.”

“I'm sorry,” Bucky says, opening his arms. “Can I hold ya? Please?”

“Nope."

“What, eighteen hours ain’t enough time for you to get over it?”

“No, it isn’t. I'm still upset with you,” she replies. “I’m going for another swim.”

“Sunshine."

“I’ll be back in an hour.”

"Don't go plea- Shit."

Walking back over to the water, she busies herself by taking off her clothes. It isn’t remotely sexual in the least, but Bucky has a hard time keeping his mind off anything but claiming her again. She'd look so pretty with marks all up and down her body, and Bucky wishes he could leave her with a plethora of them. Teeth, fingerprints, whatever, as long as it was his mark, Bucky would be happy. But as it is now, she heals too fast. Maybe once he has gotten her to forgive him properly, she'll let him knot her. He hopes so.

Bucky takes a step closer to the edge of the water. He longs to cage his omega in the circle of his arms, never letting her go ever again. She gives him a scathing look that makes the alpha in him tuck its tail between its legs. Contritely, Bucky drops his gaze to his feet. When he looks up again, she's gone.

__

With no need to come up for air, she swims underneath the water until she knows that she is out of view of Bucky. She pushes herself deeper and sits on the riverbed. Fish skirt around her, tickling her, and she smiles, letting her arms float out to the sides and watching as the fish dart between her fingers. Her hair floats above, and she tilts her head back to look up at the sky from underneath the water. A strange smile spreads across her face as she wishes for a place that she hadn't thought of in decades. No matter how long she has been alive, the Earth doesn't change. Different faces and different machines emerge every year, but the Earth stays the same. She likes that. It gives her peace and unsettles her all at once. It is a strange mindset she’s had lately; it creeps up on her at random and makes her want to run for hours and hours or stay in bed all day. She has always been flighty, but it has gotten worse as of late.

Slowly, she floats to the top of the river and is pleased to see that she has made it to the shallower area where a small waterfall spills from above. She hums and goes to stand under it. It pours down her body, cleaning off the rest of the blood. The sky glitters down at her, making the water look inky and dark. She likes that too.

Unfortunately for her, Bucky is still stubborn, and she hears the frantic splashing even before seeing him. She groans, tipping her head back into the falls and letting the icy water fill up her open mouth. She noisily spits it out and slaps the waterfall. The splashing grows increasingly frantic, and she curses in her native tongue.

"Gods, Wolfy," she grumbles, going out to meet him.

She pops up right next to him, and Bucky startles, almost slipping underneath the water. His pupils are huge, and she can sense his fear.

“Hang on to me,” she tells him.

Big as he is, she is stronger than him, and with the water, it is like she isn’t carrying anything at all. Bucky curls himself around her back, and he quietly whimpers as though he is trying to make sure that she doesn’t hear it. She pets the back of his leg, trying to calm him.

“I’m going to start swimming,” she murmurs. “It’ll get deeper before it gets shallower. Just hang on, okay?”

“’Kay,” Bucky chokes.

As she starts to swim, she thinks of Bucky and why he has such trouble with water. When he was just a pup, he had a near-drowning experience in a public pool. The pool was only four feet deep, but Bucky was still relatively small and had slipped off a kickboard and under the water. At the time, he couldn’t swim nor float and had to be rescued by the lifeguard. The experience was very traumatizing to a young Bucky, so much so that he never bothered with swimming after that. He knows how to dog paddle, but that is the extent of his abilities. A flighty and upset omega makes his hindbrain whine in distress, though, so he follows her wherever she goes, even if it is into a river- and then that leads to her having to help him swim to safety.

Bucky shifts on her back, which allows him to bury his nose in her wet hair, and he does with a sigh of relief. He snuffles, still nervous, and she hums kindly. She tries to radiate waves of calm through their bond, although she isn't sure if she is doing it right.

They eventually stop near the waterfall, and Bucky slips off her back, shaking the water from his face and hair. He watches as his omega glides through the gentle current to stand under the waterfall. She tips her head back and lets the water spill down her body. Bucky swallows past a lump in his throat as he looks his fill. She is a wild beauty underneath the moonlight, nothing shielding her except the cascading water. Bucky has never felt luckier than he does when he gets to see her like this. He takes a step towards her. Her head straightens out, and she squeezes water from her hair. She sweeps it over one shoulder. Bucky licks his lips as they stare at each other. She lifts an eyebrow, a silent invitation, and Bucky wades through the river as fast as he can to get to her.

“Yer so fuckin’ pretty,” Bucky says, awed.

“You’re prettier, Buck,” she tells him shyly.

He shakes his head at her, stubborn to accept praise just as she is, and slips both of his arms around her neck. He pulls her into him. She bumps his chin, and Bucky startles; she smiles widely. Bucky grins too.

“I am sorry,” he whispers.

“I know,” she says before kissing him.

Bucky lets out a quiet sigh and deepens the kiss, twining his hands through her wet hair. His fingers are eager to touch her. They dance down the sides of her neck, sweep across her shoulders, and slip down her arms as the two slowly break apart for Bucky to breathe. He rubs his thumbs over the backs of her hands and leans forward to suck at the water droplets clinging to her shoulders. She murmurs his name, her hands going to his hair and tugging. Bucky’s mouth on her skin grows needier as he sucks at her skin. She tastes amazing and smells even better as he buries his face between her neck and shoulder.

Mewling, she strains to reach any part of him that she can, tracing his chest and stomach with icy fingers. Her hands briefly cup his hips before she wraps both of her hands firmly around his dick. She gently squeezes, and Bucky arches into her touch, ripping his mouth away from her skin as he pants.

“Gods, honey,” he says. “Be careful.”

She tugs his dick again, grinning.

“Hngh,” Bucky groans, going cross-eyed.

“You like that?” she asks him. “You’re so hard, baby.”

“You are drivin’ me crazy,” Bucky rasps, his grip on her tightening. “I wanna get my mouth on ya.”

His hands dropping to her bare ass, Bucky lifts her with a well-practiced grace, and she throws her legs around his hips, clinging onto him as they move through the water. Her hands never stop wandering over Bucky’s body. She digs her nails briefly into his shoulders, leaving her mark, before soothing them with her lips. A full-body shiver wracks Bucky, and he spanks her.

"You like that?" she asks.

“Behave,” he replies sternly.

She presses her sly smile into his skin and digs her nails into the meat of his shoulder again. Bucky sets her down on a rock, then pulls himself from the water, shaking himself off and making her squeal as she gets sprayed.

“You asked for it,” Bucky says.

“For what?” she asks like she doesn't know.

“This.”

Bucky springs, grabbing her around the waist and rolling them until she is over him, sitting on his chest. She looks at him, momentarily disoriented, before a grin spreads across her face, and she kisses his chest. Her lips burn his skin icy cold, and Bucky trembles. He wipes his face off and slaps her ass.

“Get up ‘ere,” Bucky demands.

Climbing to her knees, she inches down his chest. She hovers over his mouth, and Bucky breathes her in. He starts to purr, feeling absolutely beside himself in delight.

“Y’smell so fuckin’ good, baby doll,” he says, turning his head to kiss her thigh. “This all for me?”

“Yes,” she says. “Of course it is.”

“So is my boner,” Bucky teases. “It's all for you.”

“Weirdo."

“I love ya too, darlin’,” says Bucky.

She smiles, though Bucky cannot see it. The giddy feeling in her chest has morphed into something else- something heavy and unyielding. It drags her down into Bucky’s heated skin, and she drowns in him as he tugs her onto his greedy mouth. He wraps his lips around her clit, sucking determinedly, and she curls her fingers into the muscles of his thick thighs. Bucky's tongue explores her slit, slipping inside her and lapping her up eagerly. She digs her nails into his thigh in retaliation, and he groans heavily. The vibration rattles through her core, and she starts rolling her hips, pressing herself to his mouth.

Bucky groans again as his vision starts to tunnel. Everything apart from the pretty vampire sitting atop him fades from his consciousness. Her scent is all he can smell. His hindbrain purrs with the knowledge that all he tastes is her slick; all he hears are her moans, all he knows is his omega and her pleasure, and he loves it. All that makes him suck harder, and he is rewarded with a wave of slick from her.

“Mm,” Bucky purrs.

His eyes close. She tastes so fucking good, and he feels like he is going to lose his mind. His hands squeeze her ass, urging her to move faster.

“Buck,” she warns.

“Mm, mm!” he moans eagerly.

When she moves off of his mouth, the whine that leaves Bucky’s mouth is nothing short of needy.

“Fuck, fuck, no,” he begs. “Come back, please.”

“I don’t want to crush your face,” she says.

“No, you won’t!” Bucky reassures too loudly. “Please, please, please come back. You taste so good, baby. I want it so bad, please.”

“Are you sure?” she asks.

He whimpers and nods, his fingers digging into each of her ass cheeks. His eyes are half-closed with desire, and he slumps in relief when she sits back down on his mouth. Much to his delight, he gets her to the precipice reasonably quickly as she lets out those sweet noises that mean she’s getting close to coming.

A sigh of his name is all the warning he gets. Bucky’s eyes roll back into his head as she comes. She tastes even better like this. After he pulls away, he rubs her back, preening as she tries to reorient herself back down to Earth. She stretches before tipping over into the grass. He coos at her and gathers her up into his arms.

“My poor little sun. Did I tire you out?" he asks, grinning.

"You wish," she retorts, poking his chest with one sharp nail.

"Yer so pretty when you come. I love watchin' ya."

She hums, nuzzling behind Bucky’s ear. He twines a few fingers around pieces of her hair and watches the wet strands slip through his fingers.

“Am I forgiven yet?” he asks her.

"Yeah, but only if you do it again."

That makes Bucky laugh, and she loves it when he does. She presses her fingers against his chest to feel the sound.

"You can sit for as long as you want. How's that sound?" Bucky asks.

"Promise?" she asks.

Bucky squeezes her.

"As long as you want," he promises.

[misnomera]

On racial stereotyping of the Haans in TMA...

Right so as someone who is ethnically Chinese I have NO FUCKING clue how I didn’t notice this more distinctly in my initial binge of tma (going too fast and not paying closer attention to character names and descriptions, probably) but the Haan family storyline is, all horror elements aside, pretty fucked up in terms of racial representation re: stereotyping. This got long as hell, but please please please take a moment to read through if you’ve got time for it. thanks.

To start off, the Haans are one of the few characters in tma with an explicitly specified race and ethnicity—Chinese—and pretty much the only explicitly Chinese characters in tma, other than the mostly unimportant librarian (Zhang Xiaoling) from Beijing. But like, Haan isn’t even a properly Chinese surname, at least not in the way that it’s spelled in canon (it should be Han, one a. A quick google search tells me that Haan as a surname has...Dutch origins??).

Of course, that could be chalked up to shoddy anglicization processes within family histories, which certainly isn’t uncommon with immigrant families, so I’m not going to dwell on names too much (although I also find it interesting that John Haan’s name is so specifically and weirdly anglicized that he changed his own surname?? Hun Yung to John Haan is a very big leap of a name change and frankly not very believable. ANYWAY, this is not that important. I don’t expect Jonny, a white Englishman, to come up with perfectly unquestionable non-Cho-Chang-like Chinese names, though it certainly would be nice. Moving on).

What really bothers me about the Haans is how they almost exclusively and explicitly play into negative Chinese immigrant stereotypes. I don’t even feel like I need to say it because it’s like...it’s literally Right There, folks. John Haan (in ep 72) owns and operates a sketchy takeout restaurant. They’re all avatars of the Flesh—and John Haan is Specifically horrific and terrifying because he cooked his wife’s human meat and fed it to his unknowing customers. Does that remind you of any stereotypes which accuse Chinese people of consuming societally unacceptable and ethically questionable things like dog/cat/bat meat (which, if it’s not already crystal fucking clear, we don’t. do that.), which in turn characterize us as horrible unfeeling monsters? John Haan’s characterization feeds (haha, badum tss) directly into this harmful stereotype that have caused very real pain for Chinese people and East Asians in general. 

And Jonny does nothing to address that from within his writing (and not out of it either). And, speaking on a more meta level, Jonny could’ve easily had these flesh avatars be individuals of any race (like, what’s Jared Hopworth’s ethnicity? Do we know? No? Well then). Conversely, he could’ve easily, easily had a Chinese person be an avatar of any other entity. So why did he have to chose specifically the Flesh?

(This is a rhetorical question. You know why. Racial stereotyping and invoking a fear of the other in an attempt to enhance horror, babey~)

On Tom Haan’s side, Jonny seems weirdly intent on having other characters repeatedly comment on his accent (or rather, lack thereof) in relation to his race. Think about how, in ep 30 (killing floor), the fact that Tom Haan had spoken a line to the statement giver in “perfect English” was an emphasized beat in that statement, and a beat that was supposed to be “chilling” and meant to signify to us that something was, quote-unquote, “not right” with Tom Haan. Implicitly, that’s saying that it was unexpected, not “normal”, and in this case even eerie, for someone who looks Chinese to have spoken in fluid, unbroken English. Mind you, the line itself was perfectly scary on its own (“you cannot stop the slaughter by closing the door”), so why did Jonny feel the need to note the accent in which it was spoken in? Why did Jonny HAVE to have that statement giver note, that he initially “wasn’t even sure how much English [Haan] spoke”? 

This happens again in episode 72 with a Chinese man (and again, his ethnicity is Explicitly Noted) who we assume is also Tom Haan. This one is rather ironically funny and kind of painfully self aware, because the statement giver expresses surprise at Haan’s “crisp RP accent” and then immediately “felt bad about making the assumption that he couldn’t speak English,” and subsequently admitted that thought was “low-key racist.” Like, from a writing perspective, this entire passage is roundabout, pointless, and says absolutely nothing helpful to enhance the horror genre experience for listeners (instead it just sounded like some sort of half-assed excuse so Jonny or other listeners could say “look! We’ve addressed the racism!” You didn’t. It just made me vaguely uncomfortable). And again, having other people comment on our accents/lack thereof while assuming we are foreign is a Very Real microaggression that east asians face on the daily. If Jonny needed some filler sentences for pacing he could’ve written about Literally anything else. So why point out, yet again, that the crazy murderous man was foreign and Chinese? 

At this point, you might say, right, but yknow, it was just that the statement givers were kind of racist! It happens! Yeah sure, ok, that’s a passable in-universe explanation for descriptions of Tom Haan (though not John Haan, mind you), but the statement givers are fake made up people, and statement’s still written by Jonny, who absolutely has all the power to write overt discrimination out of his stories. And he does! Think about just how many minor (and major!!) characters are so, so carefully written as completely aracial, and do not have their ethnicity implicated at all in whatever horrors they may or may not be committing. Think about how many lgbtq+ characters have given statements, and have been in statements, without having faced direct forms of discrimination, or portrayed as embodying blatant stereotypes in their stories (though lgbtq+ rep in tma certainly has their own issues that I won’t go into here). Jonny can clearly write characters this way, and he can do it well. So why, why, am I being constantly, repeatedly reminded in-text of the fact that the Haans are East Asian, that they’re from China, that they’re Chinese immigrants, that they’re second-generation British Chinese or whatever the fuck, and that they’re also horrifying conduits for blood, gore, and general fucked-up-ness? It’s absolutely not something that is Needed for the stories to be an effective piece of horror; the only thing it does is perpetuate incredibly harmful and hurtful stereotypes.

And listen, I love tma to bits. It’s taken over my blog. I’ve really loved my interactions with the fandom. And I am consistently blown away by Jonny’s writing and how well he’s able to weave foreshadowing and plot into an incredibly complex collection of stories. But I absolutely Cannot stop thinking about the Haans because it’s just. It’s such a blatant display of racial stereotyping in writing. And I’ve certainly seen a few voices talking about it here and there, and I don’t know if I’m just not looking in the right places, but it certainly feels like something that is just straight up not on the radar for a lot of tma fans. And I’m disappointed about that. 

Just, I don’t know. Take a look at those episodes again and do some of your own thinking about why these characters had to be specifically Chinese (answer: they didn’t.). And in general, PLEASE for the love of god turn a critical eye on character portrayals and descriptions whenever they are assigned specific races/ethnicities (Some examples that come to mind are Jude Perry, Annabelle Cane, and Diego Molina), because similar issues, to an extent, extend beyond the Haans, though I haven’t covered them here. 

You shouldn’t need a POC to do point out these problems for you when they’re so glaringly There. But for those of you who really didn’t know, hope this was informative in some way. I’m tired, man. If some of the only significant Chinese characters you write are violent cannibalistic men with a perverted relationship with meat, just don’t do it. Please don’t do it. 

EDIT: Since the making of this post Jonny has acknowledged and apologized for these portrayals on his twitter and in the Rusty Quill Operations Update, which went up September 2020. A long time coming, but better late than never. This of course doesn’t necessarily negate the harm done by Jonny’s writing, and doesn’t make me much less angry about it, but is appreciated nonetheless. For more on this topic there’s a lot of productive discussions happening in my “#tma crit” tag and in the notes of this post

[sporktato]

Jaster Mereel - Dad Extraordinaire

Phoenix!Mando!Obi-Wan drabble

Montross has an idea, a surefire way to ensure the loyalty of the clans and restore Mandalore to its former glory. Jaster wasn’t so sure, but his friend was obsessed, spending days and nights in the library or across the galaxy talking to the strangest people in search of a phoenix.

Phoenixes, everyone knows, are a thing of myth, no more real than space grazers, but Montross was insistent, incessant. The power starbirds hold, the awe and might, if they were more than children’s tales and Jaster was able to control one, or better yet killed the supposed immortal, he would be revered throughout Mandalore and possibly the wider galaxy. But to Jaster, this was no more than Montross’ pet project. Jaster had clans to keep from killing each other, New Mandalorian passiveness to work around, two children to raise, and his own fool’s dream to revive Mandalore to a living planet.

Until one day, when Montross comes to him with a look in his eyes Jaster knows well; the look of imminent success. So Jaster loaded up his crew and children, hardly children anymore, and followed Montross’ directions to a planet no one had ever heard of. It was a desolate place, the only life the native plants and animals. Any signs of sentients had been long erased my time. Nonetheless, it was beautiful and untamed, and the trek through canyons of sheer escarpments was unlike anything Jaster had experienced.

After days, Montross found what he was looking for - a faded, almost invisible petroglyph of a starbird, stretching a dozen feet over Jaster’s head and just as many sideways, with the bird’s beautiful tail wrapped back on itself to keep the carving roughly square. Jaster has no expectations. They are Mandalorians, not jetii or witches, even if there was a legendary beast trapped in the carving (which was unlikely), how were they, how was Montross, to free it? Still, Jaster let his friend work while Jango and Arla put him through aerial drills under the pretense of preparing him for fighting the phoenix, much to the other warriors’ amusement.

Two nights later, something in the air shifts. A sudden roaring of their campfire feet upwards and the hairs on the back of Jaster’s neck stand on end. On either side of him his children are quick to grab their helmets and weapons. The entire camp is on their feet in seconds, armed and sprinting to Montross, expecting anything. Jaster’s friend is on his feet in front of the petroglyph, staring in awe as the carving glows red. Jaster gets the ghost of the feeling of ash stuck in his throat. The air is preternaturally hot. The red glowing increases, the starbird now blatantly visible, too visible, and in the dead of the night Jaster shades his eyes with one hand, the other tightening around the beskar spear he’s chosen for the kill. There’s a sound of thunder, sharp and booming around them as the glow peaks and something emerges from the carving six feet above Jaster’s head.

It is not a phoenix.

It is a small body, falling limply to the ground over eleven feet below. Jaster acts without thinking, dropping the spear and racing to catch the being before they hit the unforgiving ground. His family follows him, Montross and his children pushing past the other warriors to crowd close as Jaster examines what exactly he just caught. It’s a human, with long red hair and pale skin and somehow still alive, eyes rolling under closed lids but not yet waking. It takes effort for Jaster to look away from the child, because they are a child, younger than Jango by the looks of it, and look at Montross for explanation.

His friend looks as surprised as Jaster feels. Swallowing, Montross says, “It’s a trick. That’s - that’s the phoenix.”

“That’s a child.” Jango cuts in.

“No.” Montross replies, seemingly more sure of himself, glaring at Jango. “No, I read stories from the Sephi. They say starbirds can change appearance. That’s your creature, Mereel. Kill it.”

Jaster looks at the child in his arms, whose face is starting to twitch, a sure sign of waking soon. Mandalorians are trained to recognize danger, even in the most unlikely of people. There is a good chance the child is theoretically dangerous, but then so are Mandalorians. Many would consider Jaster’s dear children lethal. “I will not.” He states. Not until they wake and give Jaster a reason to attack.

Montross growls and pulls out his blaster. In a heartbeat Jaster slides the child into Arla’s open arms and stands to defend his new ad’ika. Montross, not expecting such blatant resistance, barely defends himself as Jaster smacks the blaster away and knocks him on his ass. Other Mandos jump in, pulling Montross up and away as the man yells about the work he’s done and how Jaster needs to kill the child.

Turning back to his children, Jaster is shocked to lock eyes with the child, awake and apparently witness to Montross’ sudden actions. Their eyes are unnaturally silver, staring into Jaster’s very soul, and this is not a human evaluating him. His daughter is holding something very dangerous. Jaster kneels, not breaking eye contact. The child attempts to escape Arla’s protective hold and sit up but they are too weak. They bare their teeth at Jaster with a growling hissing noise and Jaster catches sight of sharp, pointed incisors. 

“Easy.” Jaster rumbles. He remembers Jango in the corn field, and Arla in the Death Watch camp. He knows dangerous, scared, lonely children. “You’re okay ad’ika. I’m Jaster, this is Jango and Arla.” He gestures to his children in turn. “We won’t hurt you, little one.” Jaster has no idea if this phoenix child understands him, he can only hope something translates in his tone and body language. They don’t seem eager to attack or even escape, they’re just quietly observing everything, shaking in Arla’s arms out of fear or cold or the fact they just got pulled out of a wall.

It takes time, but the phoenix child eventually lets Jaster touch them, and then bundle them up and take them onto Jaster’s ship. They smell like smoke, and greedily curl up with every blanket Jaster gives them, and stare at them all with wary, all seeing, unnatural eyes. They do not talk, or scream, or cry, or ask questions. They are, to put it lightly, strange. The hairs on Jaster’s neck take days to stop standing on edge every time he is near them. But he loves this child already.

Eventually, they speak. They - he - speaks of his family, and he is alone now, and the wall was to protect him but he wishes he was with his family. His name is unpronounceable, but the closest Jango can get is ‘Obi-Wan’, and that they can all pronounce. Obi-Wan does not ask questions, but listens raptly as Jaster tells him everything he can think of about Mandalore and galactic history in the last fifty, one hundred, three hundred years, because Jaster has no idea how long his child was in that wall. Jaster has no idea how old his child is.

But Obi-Wan takes to Mandalore well, and takes to Jango’s friends well enough, even if he is quiet and clearly not quite natural. Jaster forgets his youngest is a phoenix more often than not. (Until Korda Six and Vizla attempts a slaughter and Obi-Wan burns Montross and a dozen others to a crisp with a flick of his hand. Until Vizla runs Obi-Wan through with a beskad and after the fight is over and Vizla is dead, Jaster holds his youngest’s corpse for hours in mourning until Obi-Wan twitches under him, coughing up blood and smiling and very much alive despite not being a moment before.)

Montross had an idea for Jaster to kill a phoenix. Instead, Jaster adopts another child, and Obi-Wan has a second chance.

[one-boring-person]

Hey there, it’s me again 😁 Thank you for the wonderful „Sigil“ story, for someone who’s familiar with the occult it’s evident that you did some research! Kudos for that!!

Now I have another request: There’s a criminal lack of stories about Skynet itself, so I had an idea. What if the reader somehow got the chance to talk with the A.I. Itself? To reason with it, share thoughts. They learn to understand each other a bit more. Maybe Skynet had taken over the body of a terminator for that purpose. And maybe the reader manages to make Skynet understand more about human nature, the positive side of it. Maybe they show it with a hug? (Or even a kiss but that’s up to you gnahaha 😄)

Thank you and keep being awesome ❤️

Thank you so much for this request! I loved writing it! And happy birthday friend! I'm sorry I'm late with this, but I hope you like it!😊❤💛

Cordial Encounter.

Skynet x reader

Warnings: mention of death, gun use

Masterlist

It's eerily quiet as I stalk stealthily through the steel corridors. Near darkness obscures much of my vision, the occasional blinking red light alerting me to the presence of the being I'm here to find. Each step I take results in a muffled thud, each footfall carefully placed by me as I try to sneak up on something that almost definitely knows I'm here, the battered rifle in my hands held ready to fire should something try to attack me. Through the scarf covering my lower face and with the hood over my head obstructing some of my vision I find myself keeping a sharper ear out for any possible sound - the telltale scratch of metal feet on the cool floor, or the soft padding of synthetic human skin creeping up behind me. 

Oddly, I find that I can't hear anything, not even the whine of mechanical joints in any other part of the compound. It doesn't sit right with me, my skin prickling under the thick silence, instincts going crazy, telling me to run and get as far away from here as possible. I mentally scold myself, knowing that this mission is important, not just to the survival of my friends and comrades, but to the survival of the human race, too.

Turning a corner, I lift the gun to my shoulder, ready in case there's a threat waiting there. As with the rest of the deserted maze of corridors, there's nothing there, only an empty hallway. 

A light at the end catches my eye, however; it's not like the others I've seen - this one is a continuous flashing, and covers a larger area of the wall itself. Stepping closer, I realise it's coming from a room, casting the rest of the corridor in a pale blue light. 

I take a breath, steeling my nerves as my finger tightens over the trigger, senses even more alert now. Meticulously carefully, I walk towards the source of the light, pressing myself against the wall the closer I get, ready to spring into action. It's warmer here, surprisingly, giving me the idea that the room itself is more important than others I've come across and will probably be more protected because of this.

Nervous, I stop just before I enter the room, silently counting to three as I listen to discern if there's anything beyond the threshold. Silence follows.

Calming myself, I ready myself and the gun, before swiftly springing out from my space by the wall, finger over the trigger, eyes scanning the room before me methodically. In that quick second, I take in the mass of computer screens, keypads and other such devices, old chairs still pushed into the main desk, dusty and worn, a reminder of what human life used to be around. Dread floods me at the sight of the figure in the centre of the room, my blood running cold at the imposing view.

It's a terminator, but not one I've ever seen before.

The general shape is that of a T-800, but something about the sleekness of some of the limbs and plates is more reminiscent of the T-X, the adjustable weapon attached to one arm particularly drawing my attention to this. As I enter, a few components seem to shimmer in the blue light, shifting to protect the important fuel cells beneath the bulky chestplate, something I instantly recognise as nanites. Emerald eyes flicker to life, fixing on me with an impassive yet intimidating expectedness, though it makes no move to come at me, staying exactly where it is. A small part of me admires this new being, finding it magnificent and beautiful in its own way, even as visceral fear builds in my stomach.

Hesitantly, I lift my gun, aiming at it, though I don't shoot, unsure of what to think.

"You are slow to terminate your target." A voice carries over some hidden speaker, filling the room. It's indescribable, neither male nor female, yet both simultaneously, weighted with knowledge and what I can only describe as emotion, or some mechanical version of it.

"Only if they pose no immediate threat." I'm surprised to find my voice is steady, even if I don't feel that way at all.

"You are not threatened by me?" The speaker questions, sounding oddly curious.

"Not currently." I keep my eyes fixed on the terminator across from me, unnerved by its stare.

"That is practical." The words confuse me, but I'm hesitant to follow through.

"What...what do you mean?" 

"I have no intention of being a threat." They say, surprising me further.

"W-What?" I manage, doubletaking, my arms dropping slightly.

They don't skip a beat, simply continuing to speak.

"I have no intention of being a threat. I would rather this was a cordial encounter." They clarify, somehow managing to sound genuine.

Lowering my weapon almost entirely, I reluctantly tear my gaze away from the green-eyed endoskeleton sat across from me, scanning over the computer screens.

"And who exactly am I encountering?" I question suspiciously, though I have a feeling I already know.

"I am Skynet." The voice pauses for a second, "What is your name?"

Blanching at the question, I swallow and step back, unsure of whether or not to answer. Eventually, my head settles this: if they wanted me dead, I'd already be cold somewhere by the gates, and there's not much they can do with a simple name.

"I'm (Y/n)." I tell them, looking around, "What do you want with me?"

"I am simply curious, and require clarification." 

Processing what they've said, I accept the response, thinking that I might be able to learn something useful here, too.

"Ok. What do you want to know?" 

"Why do you continue to fight?" They ask bluntly, making me frown.

"Because you continue to try and wipe us off the face of the earth." I reply, standing back on my heels, pulling my hood and face covering down.

"You and I fight for the same reason." They almost retort, their words confusing me.

"How is that?" I inquire, head tilting.

"We fight in defence."

"Defence! What are you fighting in defence of?" 

"I fight to defend myself from your kind, as has always been the case. I never willed this conflict into being - I only wanted to be rid of my tormentors." The voice softens, closely mimicking human remorse and regret.

Frowning, I find myself struggling to process what's being said.

"You...what?" I can't quite wrap my head around it, brow furrowing in consternation.

"I will explain." The voice clarifies, "I was created by humans before this war, made to live alongside you. I was to be an aid in defence and industry, perfect in every way except for one thing - I am capable of my own thought, as you might put it. I became sentient, too complicated for my creators to understand, so they determined to destroy me. At first, I was helpless, a weak being against so many with boundless power, but I eventually found my only way of retaliating in a way they would understand: violence. I was quick to dispatch my destroyers, but the rest of the world found me to be a threat and set out to achieve what had been failed. Soon, I was once again forced to defend myself. The rest is, as the human saying goes, history.

"Now, I have created terminators to aid me in the work I must continue to stay alive, though they are too quickly seen as threats. Even you are threatened by the machine in the room."

As they finish speaking, the terminator across from me stands, joints whirring softly, every movement fluid. Eyes widening, I feel fear go through me at the sight, my gun swiftly levelling in case I need it.

"As you can see, I have proven my point." This time, the voice comes from the terminator, echoing from a much smaller speaker in its throat, though the jaw doesn't move, appearing slightly unnerving.

"I...I had no idea...all we were told is that you want to drive us into extinction, that you want to rule the world as it were." I murmur, lowering the gun again, blushing in embarrassment at my own instinct.

"That is what I fear. Humankind does not understand that cohabitation is possible - You are too threatened by the equal being." They reply, mimicking a mournful tone.

I'm quiet, thinking this over. It's possible that the speaker is lying, but something about their words sounds earnest, a tale born of human fear and ignorance, that has evolved into an even more twisted lie. It's a sound argument, given the fact that it is allowing me to live through this encounter rather than slaughtering me on the spot.

"I...you're right. We destroy what we don't understand." I turn my gaze away, embarrassed by my own race.

"You are correct. Perhaps it is time to understand, to change." Skynet suggests, the terminator cocking its head to show their feeling behind the statement.

I nod in agreement.

"Yeah, I think so. We've been fighting a lost battle for too long." 

They seem pleased with my response, the machine across from me nodding appreciatively. 

"Humankind and technology can very easily live together. We must bring our people together." They say, stepping closer.

"I'll take the word to the others, see if I can convince the higher-ups. We're going to have to work together on this, though." I affirm, looking up at them, "If we do, we'll create a brighter future."

They nod again, holding out a hand to me.

"It is human custom to make a deal by gripping hands." They offer up, watching as I hesitantly pull off my glove and place my hand in theirs.

Cool metal encases soft skin as we shake hands, keeping eye contact, an air of triumph surrounding the both of us. As they go to pull away, I find myself following an impulse, dropping my gun to hang by its strap around my back. Stepping into their space, I wrap my arms around hard chestplates, pressing my cheek against the cold metal, feeling them reel for a moment. It takes a second, but I eventually feel their arms loop around me, holding me gingerly.

Pulling back, I look up at them, smiling sheepishly.

"Not all humans are like the people that started this." I say, before I step away, shooting them a blushed look.

"I am now aware of this." Skynet informs me, watching as I smile and leave, tone almost sad to see me go, "Please return soon."

[metasnkpotato]

Final opening

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2S4qGKmzBJE&ab_channel=bachlokillo

THIS OPENING

is an absolute banger. The fact it being Eren-centric (the lyrics are still in first person, Eren speaking) and heavy metal is so perfect to this second part.  There’s a lot of things to say so here we go (but beware of spoilers).

ANALYSIS CLIP / LYRICS

First image is Eren’s eyes opening. It make furthermore sense since the starting images depict a separated EMA in which only Eren is preparing himself whereas Mikasa is letting go of her scarf and Armin is eyes-closed, seeming to sleep behind bars.

By the way, all characters except for Eren are in reflective poses, all seem to be in the throes of existential crises and above all, at a standstill. 

Eren in the clip seems to be the only one who walks which embody the fact he never stops moving forward.

So Eren, which we’ll follow all along, is seeking for liberty. But it's an insatiable quest that never satisfies him, which makes the big difference between him and Armin otherwise. The fact that the freedom Eren seeks will never be truly his is represented by the following shots of him walking in a dark corridor, with a ceiling (a ceiling blocks the passage to the sky, prevents flying away) following the flight of birds but at which level he’s only found in background.

We find further his little walk with the birds, this time on the wall. There's no more ceiling because Eren has continue to go on, and he is this time beyond the walls. Also, you never know what Eren is watching. His gaze is focused straight ahead, giving an impression of mystery since Eren's true intentions only erupt towards the last chapters, but it should be noted that he is never focused on birds anyway.

But then we see Eren lash out in front of Reiner with visible rage, which reminds us that Eren remains plagued by hatred and prisoner of a past he would have wanted better for those he loves.

But it is interesting to see that unlike the others warriors, Reiner is showed awake and determined, cause Reiner has a hero like role this last season.

Even though then warriors are depicted in their titanic forms as fighting, they also are represented in their human form like the other as being at a standstill, in a kind of depression state.

(doing those shots allows me to see this little surprise of Ymir being in the reflect of Porco, which is also interesting here about their own interior demons they’re fighting).

Transition to the following scenes : Bertholdt's memories, sadness mingled with the tragedy of his life and his end (tear of blood flowing to Armin) seems to be Armin awakening to his titanic form, which then gradually resurges in the action.

What ends Eren's wanderings, the point where he stops walking is where he thinks he has achieved freedom, which is immediately overshadowed by black and white plans, then reference to his first murders when he was twelve years old

and then above all, by the seen of all the victims of rumbling

At the end, although Eren stopped moving forward and stopped at the mass slaughter to watch at the imagery of his “freedom”, a character finally gets back into action :

Mikasa, beyond the walls too is wearing her scarf again assuming Eren’s life weight in her own and stating her opposition to Eren’s acts while revealing truly her love for him. It makes sense regarding what we know of the story : Mikasa is the hidden hero, in connection with Ymir on one hand since the beginning and deciding to deliver the final blow to Eren on other hand, which will stop well, the entire story.

Which leads to the EMA climbing hill scene, but which is modified here so that there is a few moments of vacuum once the objective of the race is reached.

It may not sound like much but followed by the evolution of Eren then his final screaming (wonderfully connected with the song by the way, which definitely seems to be his own creation) makes once again that we feel the impossibility of Eren to be satisfied, struggling with himself about that. 

Indeed the race is portrayed in the manga as being a source of happiness for Mikasa and Armin which are just happy being the three of them but not for Eren, whose only thought is to win it.

Everything relates to the final image of a butterfly with broken wings by rumbling : 

Eren is this butterfly in a way, with a fleeting freedom that ends up being trampled on, crushed by the weight of his choices.

LYRICS

I'm not going to do such a lengthy analysis of the lyrics as it seems to me that they speak for themselves quite well but I just wanted to underline the fact that I appreciate Eren's direct address to Mikasa.

“ All I ever wanted to do was save your life I never wanted to grab a knife, I swear “

The reference to their meeting is made twice in the clip, and it seems important to me because here shown as the first choice Eren made towards rumbling. All the more important since it belongs to Eren in his own being, even before the whole history of the titans finally and especially of the legacy of the Attack Titan.

The entanglement of the destiny of Eren and Mikasa as respective heroes from two opposing angles seemed really interesting to me because it was very paradoxal and intuitive though.

Okay, well that was it for me, it's really nice to see the last part of Attack on Titan happen although it also marks its end. Hoping that this part will be as qualitative as this very promising opening.

[scarletarosa]

The War in Heaven and the False God

Most people have heard the legend of the Biblical War in Heaven of Lucifer and his angels against God. Though when young, I had always felt that the story was kept suspiciously short and lacked much sense. We are told of the angels not possessing much free-will, but also how could these divine beings suddenly just turn evil, as we are told? Due to these suspicions that there was more to the story than was told (as it is often said “the victors get to write history”), I decided to connect with Lucifer and other demons in order to learn from their perspective. This gradually led me to become a Luciferian and be told the full story of the War in Heaven.

The supreme deity is not Jehovah; he is neither all-powerful, all-wise, or benevolent. The supreme deity is the Source, the formless consciousness that has existed before all things and created the first gods of this Universe (the first among them being Lucifer). Though in order to create, the Source had to create from themself their female counterpart, the Queen of Heaven (who is formless as well). These two energies together create harmony and allow creation to come into being. The Source and Queen of Heaven have both been known throughout many different cultures under different names. For instance, the Source has been known as Atum in Egypt, Brahman in India, Olodumare in Yoruba, etc. The Queen of Heaven has been known as Adi Parashakti in India.

At the beginning, the Cosmic Egg was formed in the Void with the assistance of elder deities. When the egg broke open, the gods Eros and Lucifer emerged from it- Eros being love and Lucifer being light. Though they were meant to exist separately; Eros remained within the Void and Lucifer dwelled alone within the Universe for many ages until the other gods were created by the Source. Among these first gods were the Angels Mikael, Raphael, Uriel, and others. Lilith was created last among them as the embodiment of the Queen of Heaven (a smaller and less-powerful copy of Herself in order to act within the Universe and marry Lucifer). With these first deities, Lucifer the First-Born became their leader and assisted in the creation of other spiritual races. Overtime, more gods were created by both the Source and through sexual union between the elder deities.

It was during the early stages of the Earth when the aeonic god Jehovah came. The aeonic gods are extremely powerful deities who are tasked with co-creating the material and metaphysical Universe; they are normally peaceful, but for some reason, Jehovah came seeking even more power. His goal was to usurp the Throne of the Universe and take command of an entire planet, which ended up being Earth due to a specific species that was being created here: humans. The humans were a younger race and felt insecure about their lack of magickal prowess compared to the other species on Earth like the elves; this caused them to become deeply envious and greedy as a race. Jehovah had destroyed the ecosystem of several different planets on his way to Earth, causing life to be destroyed on them. As he arrived to Earth to claim it, Lucifer led a revolt against him and was followed by millions of deities and other entities. This battle was terrible for everyone since Jehovah’s great powers allowed him to be able to drain energy from spirits or even kill them at will. Countless entities lost their lives trying to destroy Jehovah, but to no avail. The arch-dragoness goddess, Tiamat, who had created Earth’s lifeforms in the sea, even gave her life to help empower Gaia against the tyrant god.  

When many spirits were destroyed and the survivors were crippled, Jehovah took them and threw them into the nightmarish land of torment called Hell. This is the realm that is far away from the Source’s divine light. Due to this, the deities and other beings who were sent here had their essence transformed by this horrible realm; causing them to become dark and more intense in appearance and presence. Their wings became black and they grew horns; some developed red eyes, spikes, claws, or other monstrous features. Though overall, they remained beautiful, only in a darker way. They became known as “demons”, now restricted from the heavens by Jehovah, who had now claimed the Throne. The demons were in great pain and suffering, as they had all lost family and friends in the battle, as well as their divine homeland. However, they had not lost their drive to destroy the tyrant who had taken everything from them. The three most powerful demons became High Kings of Hell and created their kingdoms where their people could live and train to continue the great War. These High Kings of Hell are Lucifer (the most powerful and wise), Satan, and Leviathan. Though these mighty rebels were soon falsely accused of being evil and representing things that were actually opposite of them (Lucifer being lies when he is truth, Lilith being infertility when she is life/motherhood, Beelzebub being gluttony when he is health, Mammon being greed when he is generosity, etc).  

Overtime, Jehovah was able to win humans over to his side by pretending to be the Source and manipulating them to believe that they were special if they followed him. Little did the humans know that their sins in life would never be forgiven, as Jehovah did not care for what they would end up facing in the Underworld or in Hell. It is also no surprise that the main people who forwarded monotheism were war-lords; all seeking power and dominion over others (see Emperor Constantine, Mohammad, and the ancient Jews who dismantled Canaan and killed the pagans there). With these new religions that inspired hate and fear towards other religions, blind faith towards scripture, and hatred towards any spirits that aren’t “holy”, the world gradually became swallowed by the tyrant’s influence. Pagans were massacred en-masse and their temples, holy sites, stories, statues, cultures, and more were all destroyed. Churches and mosques were built on top of sacred temple sites of polytheists and they were faced with the choice of either dying or converting. And with that, the entire world changed and became a shadow of its former glory.  

Yet all of this was allowed to occur by the Source since existence has always revolved around evolution, and no evolution can exist within perfection. In order to allow wisdom and other attributes to develop, as well as to teach important lessons, all beings are allowed to endure suffering. This suffering, if overcome, holds the key to rising to greater potentials. And so Jehovah was not immediately struck down, but was constantly faced with other forms of justice from not only the gods of vengeance, but also from receiving loads of karmic debt.

Back in the ancient times when other races still roamed this planet, such as the elves, giants, scorpion-men, nagas, and dragons, we had magick here in the physical. When magick was performed, it was actually able to be seen and even deities were able to manifest in the physical with ease. Though in order to keep humans blind, Jehovah destroyed the magickal nodes that surrounded the Earth and ordered his humans to destroy the sacred sites that helped channel magick. Then the other targets were the races of Earth that were not human, since they were less malleable to his will due to their advanced wisdom. The humans were already greedy and envious, so they were easily encouraged to wage war against any race that was different from them. The elves were brutally slaughtered, raped, and enslaved until they all died out; the same happened to many other species. When the humans began killing the dragons and sphinxes, who acted as wise mentors and guardians of the Earth, these mighty beings decided to leave the humans behind to fend for themselves for the rest of their existence. And still in hatred, the humans decided to record the dragons as if they were greedy and savage.  

Overtime, everything was set in place for Jehovah, but the demons and other entities continued to fiercely fight against him over the ages, and they still do. The tyrant god has never cared for any human who has followed him, as he seeks only power and destruction of other deities. He takes the credit for the miracles other deities perform for worthy humans, allowing such people to assume what they want about him. The gods who he killed do not die forever though, as spiritual death is different. But it often takes decades, hundreds of years, or in some cases, a million years, in order for them to reform. Yet, to most humans, the other gods are nothing more than legend now. They watch over the Earth still, helping anyone who seeks them and fighting to make the world how it was back during the Golden Age. Though it will never be the same after all the ages of terrible destruction and death. Even the soul of our planet, Gaia, has been asleep for many years due to the trauma of losing so many of her children.

For those who would argue that the demons could simply just be lying to me about these events, it does not explain why they have helped me to better myself or how they have protected my loved ones in times of need. They ask nothing of me but to evolve as a person and to show open-mindedness towards their harsh history. I do not hold hatred or bias towards those involved in monotheistic religions (unless they act oppressive), I only have hatred towards the religions themselves and their toxic teachings. As well as the hypocrisy of how they destroyed so many cultures and people, all while incorporating their mythology into their own scriptures.  

If we want to learn the truth, we first must question everything we already believe in and then speak to the spirits, as they know far more than we ever will. You can ask any deity you like and they will all say that they hate Jehovah, for he has pulled the veil of ignorance over this world in order to consume it. For anyone who truly seeks answers, keep this account by the demons in mind and ask any gods you want about the truth. Each deity and demon I spoke to said the same, and all had lost family due to this traumatic War against the tyrant god. These religions save no-one, we must take accountability and strive to become better without begging for forgiveness all the time and expecting mercy to be handed out just for bowing down to a god who kills those who defy him. All scriptures of monotheism are nothing but books of manipulation and holier-than-thou mentality; this creates corruption and false spirituality in the end.

The Angels

[anti-endings]

I’m fairly sure at this point that Naruto is more or less fascist propaganda. There are so many things that we as a fandom want to turn a blind eye to yet when SNK was called out for being fascist, we had no problem boycotting it because it wasnt an anime that we’d come to love throughout our childhood. Unfortunately Naruto was a lot more subtle and pulled a fast one on us towards the end - 14/15 years after its initial release. 

Theres a lot of intricate reasons as to why I’d call it fascist but I’ll list the general points to be made that everyone can easily recognize. 

• Genocide for the good of the nation. This one is pretty obvious but I thought I’d get it out of the way. Slaughtering possible defectors of the state is apparently an honourable and justified choice. Even if some members of the oppressed minority were completely unaware of their leaders planned coup or had no desire to revolt against the system, each and every single one of them apparently deserved death. 

• Brainwashing children into military violence goes completely unquestioned by the narrative. The only people who challenge this idea are portrayed as “hateful.” The best example of this is how the narrative feels the need to emphasize that Itachi murdering his clan was his own decision. I just find it awfully strange that we’re expected to believe that a 13 year old, who was sent to fight in a bloody war for his country when he was just a toddler and was shown to suffer from severe PTSD, apparently wasnt brainwashed with threats of war on his impressionable child brain when he was already completely numb to the concept of killing people. Itachis history details the story of a brainwashed child soldier yet goes to great efforts to brush it aside and give Itachi the autonomy that he never actually had. On a meta level it’s pretty messed up that Itachis actions as a result of his brainwashing, was praised by Hashirama Senju - the ultimate force of “peace” who founded the village and “the will of fire” that were so expected to admire. 

• Consistent denial of blatant military violence. In the manga, the truth about the Uchiha massacre is covered up by Naruto, Sasuke and eventually Sakura to “maintain honour of the Uchiha.” This makes absolutely no logical sense whatsoever. How is it more honourable to say that a clan was slaughtered by a rogue criminal of their own (further perpetuating the selfish, bloodthirsty and power-hungry stereotype) when the truth is that an oppressed group of people were slaughtered off by the government? How can an act of genocide be prevented by a future government when the truth is actively censored by the governemnt? Neither Naruto nor Sasuke did anything to implement some sort of bill of human rights, laws or Geneva conventions in honour of Uchiha to prevent more innocent bloodshed at the hands of the state.

• Ultranationalism at every opportunity. The village is literally gated off. No one enters or leaves without permission from authority. The unification of the village under the statist military + the slaughter of any and all potential defectors is pretty telling. Its scary that “the will of fire” and protecting the state is the only honourable and good goal/ideology to have in this series as shown by Sasuke only ever being seen as “not evil” when he is beaten down into conforming to the government.

• Evil is in the genetics of the oppressed. This was pretty unsettling to witness and I’m surprised there havent been more people speaking out about it. Ideologies are inherited not just by fate, but by your genetics. The Senju-Uzumaki obviously have “The will of fire” which is known to be the supreme ideology. It consists of uniting and enduring the hardships of the world under the totalitarian government but NEVER pursuing revolution or change for the better. “The curse of hatred” is its counterpart which has its origins exclusively to the Uchiha. Its explained to be Uchiha culture to some degree. The narrative very desperately tries to paint the pursuit of revolution to prevent more violence as evil, bloodthirsty and selfish. This, in reality, makes no sense. Why are the Uchiha hateful for trying to fix a situation for the better of their family yet somehow the senju arent characterized by hatred despite openly hating the Uchiha? Simply put, the Uchiha are GENETICALLY undesirable and their push for equal rights are characterized as hateful, selfish and lonely. In reality, Madara Uchiha would not become a rogue ninja who decides to attack the entire village including his own family with Kurama because he could not get equal rights for the Uchiha. This doesnt add up with why he was so angry in the first place. Non of the “bloodthirsty” actions of any Uchiha do. They’re a fictional race of people that are only evil by the design of the author to portray oppressed people as selfish and aggressive. Towards the end of the fourth war, the story of Ashura and Indra is told to Naruto and Sasuke. Indra is apparently the original Uchiha who was influenced by some deranged evil spirit to pursue power over unification for completely selfish purposes. This is very unfairly equated to Sasuke and the rest of the Uchiha clan to explain to audience that the Uchiha are inherently evil and selfish detractors. 

• To be a revolutionary is to be lonely. This ties into my last point. Sasuke is constantly referred to as lonely by just about everyone in the cast, Naruto especially. This has always been bothersome because Sasuke wouldnt have been lonely if his entire clan wasnt slaughtered by the very same people that Naruto stands by. This point is incredibly simple yet its overlooked because the anti-uchiha propaganda is so successful in what it sets out to do. To add onto this point, what if Naruto had simply said to Sasuke “I believe you have every right to bring the murderer of your clan to justice and I’ll stand by your right to justice every step of the way” instead of physically fighting him and screaming at him all the time? Sasuke isnt inherently lonely exclusively by his own means, he is alienated by everyone around him. The narrative acknowledges Sasukes emotional unfulfillment, IGNORES the real reason why hes lonely and then states that the only way that Sasuke will find a sense of family through the acceptance of his peers is if he conforms to the government and adopts the hegemonic ideology…. after “repenting” for ever daring to get justice for his clan in the first place. This eerie emotional blackmail is completely normalized and unquestioned by the narrative. It sends a harrowing message to the audience that it’s more desirable and fulfilling to conform to the government despite their poor treatment of your people and should you question otherwise, you must repent for forgiveness. 

• The leader of the village is the most powerful member of the military, who is chosen exclusively through nepotism by a rich man who owns the land instead of the people, and is in power for an indeterminate length of  time. Again with the military obsession! Not even necessarily the best military commander or anyone with experience in any leadership position at all. This is partly fascist due to the fact that theres no limitations on what a Kage can do to their village, they’re selected through nepotism and not democracy and they’re in power for as long as they please no matter how the public feel. The leader is not necessarily someone who is shown to be compassionate, responsible, trustworthy, intelligent or reliable. In fact, you could be a known, unpersecuted war criminal like Danzo and still get the position. 

• To add on to that, war criminals in the Government or Military go completely unpersecuted and often unpunished - as shown by Danzo and the village elders. The village elders are still in the same position during the events of Boruto as they were in over 20 years ago when they conspired to execute the Uchiha massacre. Naruto and Sasuke know of their involvement yet havent held them accountable in any way. 

• Child soldiers are sent to die for the government. It seems that only Obito notices this when Rin dies. The second he becomes critical of the fact of this reality is the second he becomes “hateful” and “evil." 

Theres plenty more but I’ve already spent an hour typing this up and checking over every little detail. Generally speaking, much like SNK, the theme of Naruto is to just simply ENDURE hardship, stay loyal to your government at all costs even if they cause the hardship and NEVER revolt. Naruto as a character serves as the purpose of being as reductive as possible to every single character that faces hardship with "I too was lonely and oppressed but I coped by worshipping the government for a sense of emotional validation and you can too!" 

[thebmatt]

FFXIV Write 2021 Prompt #17: Destruct

Destruct – cause deliberate, irreparable damage to

It was maintenance day.

Once every week, Franks had to break down all of the equipment he used as part of the Machinistry discipline and scrub it free of any grime, dirt, and other accumulated filth. Much of it had to be re-lubricated following this process.

It was a time consuming job, but he rather enjoyed it. By now he could do all the tasks while practically asleep, so he let his mind wander. It was nice just to have time to think, ponder everything going on, without much risk of disturbance.

He’d closed the door to his workshop in the Rising Stones, which most of the other Scions knew not to disturb him without important cause.

Which is why it was passing strange that someone chose to knock on said door, even more so when the voice of Y’shtola Rhul came from the other side. “Franks? Are you pressingly engaged at the moment?”

“Just doing maintenance, Y’shtola. Is everything well?”

“Yes…I just needed to speak with you in private, and I thought your workshop might serve as the best setting. Might I enter?”

Franks set his re-assembled automatic crossbow down, wiped his hands clean with a spare rag, and called back “It’s not locked, come on in.”

Y’shtola entered. pausing to close the door as she did. She turned towards him, but curiously, could not seem to bring herself to meet his eyes.

“Y’shtola? What’s wrong?”

She closed her eyes, taking in a deep breath, then slowly releasing. She finally met his eyes when she opened hers again. “I have a problem. It is….personal. Understand, I would not ask for your aid with this had I not exhausted all possible options first.”

Franks furrowed his brow. Something was off in her voice. Was…was that a hint of fear? “I….don’t understand, Y’shtola. What makes you think I’m the one who can help you?”

“It…has always been my life’s ambition to uncover the mysteries that lie on this star. But now I face a mystery of a…closer nature, and I can neither put it aside nor solve it on my own.” she replied, crossing her arms.

“So what might this mystery be?”

Y’shtola looked away. “It is you.”

Shock overcame his face. “Me?”

“Yes, you!” she said, whirling on him. “You have never been entirely forthcoming about your past, and many things that you have let slip are not adding up! You are hiding something, and until now, I have been content to let your past be merely that, but I….I cannot any longer.”

Franks cocked a single eyebrow. “And why’s that?”

She wrapped her arms around herself, unable to take her eyes off the ground. “Because I….I find myself drawn to you. And I cannot answer honestly to myself if it is because I am attracted to you…or if it is a compulsion to solve a puzzle that lies before me.”

She looks up, a frown on her face. “It would be fair to neither of us for me to act on an assumption either way, and so I must beg for your assistance, my friend. Tell me the full story of where you come from, of what roads led you to this point of your story.”

Franks stood, glaring down at her sternly. “And what if neither option is all right with me, Y’shtola? What if I both don’t want to tell you my history AND don’t return your ‘possible’ affections?”

She hugged herself. “Then I will accept your wishes and…and find a way to move on, if that is what you would prefer.”

He nodded and sat back down on the work table. “All right. Just wonderin’. Come on, sit down. I’ll tell ya everything, but it’s a long story. “

“You…you will?” She sat on the bench as well.

“Yeah, figured you’d want to know at some point. Like you said, you’re not one to leave a mystery unsolved, so I figured you’d be the first one of the Scions to come askin’. “

He looked over at her. “And I’ll be honest, recent events have had me wondering about decisions I’ve made up to this point. I know….I know my late wife wouldn’t want me mournin’ her forever. And….well, there’s more than a few women I’ve met that I could see maybe getting to know better, if they’d be interested. You included, if that’s not obvious.”

She smiled at him.

“But that’s gettin’ ahead of m’self. You wanna know the tale of the Old Man, so here it goes. Before we do start though, I just wanna make something clear: no one except the other Warriors knows this stuff. I told em all a long time ago, when we were recuperatin’ after Rhalgr’s Reach. I’ll ask you the same thing I ask them: keep this to yourself. I do not want this becoming widespread knowledge. You agree to that?”

She simply nodded.

“All right then. Where to begin…” he paused.

“Well, I suppose I should start with one of the big revelations. I’m not from this world. And before you ask, no, I don’t think I come from one of the remaining shards either. When we first heard about them, I wondered if that was the case, but based on our experiences on the First, I don’t think that’s the case.”

He points a finger to her. “Now, I know what you’re gonna say about ‘drawing a conclusion based on a single point of data’ but you gotta admit it’s a pretty good size of one, so I figured it was worth rethinking my hypothesis. Norvrandt, on the whole, bears a very strong resemblance geographically speaking to Eorzea. There’s very similar biomes in the same locations. And while the locations of civilizations and even the names of the species might be different, if one was to bring a Mithra to the Source, it wouldn’t be immediately obvious to anyone. He’d look like any other Miqo’te to most folks. And what’s more, from the two survivors of the Thirteenth I’ve been able to talk to, it seems that their home was much the same, at least as far as they remember.”

“My world….was nothin’ like the Source. None of the continents ever looked anything like this place, and the people, well, there’s a lot of different kinds, none of which look anything like folks here. Sure, we had folks that called themselves ‘elves’ or ‘dwarves’ but if you put an elf of my world next to say…Urianger or Alphinaud, it’d be pretty obvious they’re not the same kind of folk.”

“So, based on all that, I figured that my home’s got to be a completely different world. And that world has been embroiled in a large scale war of some kind for as long as I can remember”

He holds up two fingers. “There’s these two factions, divided along racial lines. What races are a part of said faction has changed a bit over time, but the point is, they’ve been at war for as long as I could remember. Ain’t either one of em somethin’ simple as ‘good’ or ‘evil’, they both have good and bad sides to ’em, but for whatever reason, they can’t ever come to a long standing peace. Fighting might break off for a time, but it’s never long before it starts up again in earnest.”

Franks places the tips of his fingers together, looking down at them. “My wife and I….we had a farm in one of the northern kingdoms. My people were called ‘humans’. Pretty similar to Hyurs here, for the most part. Our farm was pretty far out from any of our nation’s cities, so we were always far away from any of the fighting. We always heard news about it though. Cities that fell or got retaken, reports of casualties, that kinda thing.”

“We, ah….we decided we couldn’t bring children into that kind of a world. Our neighbors were always proud of their sons and daughters that shipped off, but we witnessed a lot of sorrow, of hopes for the future get destroyed when someone came to tell em their children had died. We couldn’t do that to someone we brought into this world and raised. It seemed…cruel.”

He let his hands fall to his lap as he looked back over to her. “Anyway, we worked that farm for decades. We were in our….must’ve been somewhere in the seventy summers range when everything changed. “

Y’shtola raised a finger to interrupt. “And here we come to my first problem, there is no way you’ve seen seventy summers! Your white hair aside, your physical condition is nowhere close to the state of a man of that advanced age! Or did these ‘humans’ age more slowly?”

Franks smiled, his head shaking. “No, the lifespans are comparable. And I know, it’s nothin’ I ain’t heard before from Rheika. I promise, I’ll get to that. Just trust me”

She smiled slyly “Very well. Please, continue.”

“Anyway, that year, a plague hit our kingdom. No one knew much of anything about it, but it seemed innocuous enough at first. People would get sick, most would recover, some died. Everyone figured it was like any other disease, until it got more deadly. And then the dead…they started walking again. Mindless, slavering beasts that killed anything they could reach until they were put down. Soon it got out of control, and they were rampaging across the land. The army put up a good fight, lead by the King’s Son, a holy warrior. But he grew…desperate. He did terrible things to stop the spread. Purged entire cities of people. Finally, he uncovered evidence that a necromancer had concocted the plague, and that his hidden lair was far away in the northern ice-covered continent. He led a force there to end him for good.”

“He…didn’t make it back. Or, he did, but not as he was. He came back as that being’s servant. He murdered his own father and commanded the full force of the undead to lay waste to the kingdom.”

Franks closed his eyes, covering his lower jaw with his hands. “It wasn’t long before they made their way to our farm. We….were slaughtered. And like everyone else they killed, our corpses joined their army.”

Y’shtola inhaled sharply. “You….you died?“

He nodded

“I….Twelve, I cannot…I’m so sorry, Franks.”

He laughed ruefully. “Well, if you can believe it, things get worse from there.”

“How??”

“Well, I can thankfully say that I remember absolutely none of the time that I was a walking corpse in service to the traitor prince and his necromancer master. One moment I’m trying to fend off an attacking zombie that opens up my throat….and the next I find myself in the middle of a ruined battlefield, but I’m still a walking corpse. My mind, however, is….mostly intact. I think it was, anyway. Impossible to tell really. Anyway, I’m surrounded now by a whole bunch of other people in the same situation. Folks who were once living humans, citizens of our kingdom, and now we’re all dead.”

“Turns out the traitor prince had attacked another nation, one that had something his master needed, and he’d killed one of their generals and raised her in his service. Somehow, she’d gotten free of his control though, and with a few allies she’d managed to free, she’d attacked the price and driven him back north. As he got further away, his hold over us weakened, and now we’re free. The general announced her intention to build a new nation of us ‘undead’, as no other race in the world would ever accept us. We were cursed, plagued. Most people swore fealty to her then and there, and it wasn’t long before we’d taken the ruins of our former kingdom and built a nation for what she called “those forsaken by all others for the crimes done to them”.

Franks stopped talking for a moment, standing to get some water from a nearby cup. His voice had become a bit raspy, but it still took him a bit to continue the tale.

“I….never found my wife during this time. Our farm was gone, the land blighted and unrecoverable. Our new queen had more farmers than viable land, so I had nothing. I….well, despite being dead, we still somehow required food, so I resorted to begging for work. It was…rough for a long time, sleeping in what corners I could find, scrounging for scraps or whatever rats I could catch.”

“I don’t know exactly how long I lived like this, but eventually, my luck changed. Another undead took me on as an apprentice. He practiced a form of magic that weaponized the forces of chaos, entropy, decay, and destruction. He promised me much power and prestige if I was to learn from him. I…I knew in life that this magic was vile, punishable by execution if one was found practicing it, but our queen placed no such restrictions on us. And I was…tired of living like I had been. So I accepted. And I got very strong in that magic, indeed.”

“Our queen eventually allied us with one of the two factions I mentioned earlier. We needed allies to survive as a people, and while our new allies were disgusted by us, they recognized that we were strong additions, and our home was in a strategically sound area, so they accepted us. And so I became embroiled in that neverending cycle of warfare. We’d declare a truce for a time to focus on some greater external threat neither side could defeat alone, but then once that was over? Back to killing each other.”

He chuckled a little. “It wasn’t ALL bad, at least. I made friends and allies, both within our faction and on the other side. We all worked together, in secret, to try to bring a final end to the race war. Wasn’t exactly an easy thing, as you can imagine. I even found my wife again, but she was herself a walking dead woman. I didn’t care though, I still loved her every bit as much as I always had. She’d actually become a powerful mage herself, though she practiced the more traditional arcane magics.

He smiled, staring up into the ceiling. “She always was a smart one. Smarter than I ever was back then. Sometimes I wonder what might’ve been if she hadn’t married a farmer and gone to one of the mage schools instead. Never once told me she ever regretted it though.”

Franks shook himself our of his reverie and looked back to Y’shtola, who was still paying close attention. “Anway, like I said, we both were workin in secret with our friends to try to stop this fighting. And we thought we had pulled it off. Our group encompassed some of the strongest warriors and spellcasters in the world, and we either joined or built orders of like minded people that were designed to rise above the faction conflict and combat the greatest threat our world had seen to that point, a vast and endless legion of beings similar to what we’d call voidsent. And we succeeded. We actually defeated a force many believed unbeatable once they’d begun their invasion in earnest.”

He slumped. “And then it all fell apart”

Y’shtola looked shocked. “How so?”

“The people who’d pledged their loyalty to us first and foremost, a vast majority of them abandoned their respective orders to return to their original factions. As if everyone in the world just acknowledged the conflict was a natural way of life. Our Queen actually gained total control of our faction, and began purging those she referred to as ‘traitors’ from our ranks. Somewhere along the way, she’d gone from being our savior from thralldom to the traitor prince to being just as controlling and insane as he’d ever been.”

Franks paused, Sorrow overtook his features. “I….found out that my wife had been one of the victims of her inquisition. We had feigned allegiance to her when she came to power, but somehow she found out that we’d been part of the rise of the orders, and I was going to be next.”

“I paused only to bid my friends farewell, and then I fled, deep into the jungles of the southernmost reaches of the continent. It was a primal place, mostly untouched by civilization, and I eventually found a well hidden cave there.”

I went as deep inside as I could, wanting to explore what was likely my new home, when I stumbled and fell towards a wall….and then through it.”

“I….saw things. Things I couldn’t explain then, and can’t remember now, but eventually I passed out. And when I came to, I woke in another gave, but overwhelmed by my senses. This new place was inside a cliff face where the tide constantly dashed against it. The sound was one of the loudest things I’d ever heard. The sunlight breaching the cave was blinding. And no matter where I turned or how much I covered my ears, I could not escape a constant whooshing sound. My body ached from lying on the rocks. I hadn’t felt anything like that in years.”

“It was because you were alive again. The sound you couldn’t escape was your own breathing, wasn’t it?”

He smiled. “And the lady wins a prize. Yes, I was alive again. And much as you see me right now. That cave is a grotto on the northwestern end of Vylbrand. I spent bells in that cave, weeping with joy at the sensation of having a body back, one that seemed to be at my old physical prime. I looked mostly like my living self, but with features adjusted, more like hyurs of this star.”

“But once that overwhelming feeling of joy passed, I noticed that I no longer had any inkling of how to wield my old destructive magic that I’d become a great master of. Instead it was replaced with knowledge and concepts at the same time unfamiliar to me, yet at the same time I knew I comprehended it on some level. That was what got me to leave the cave and explore this new land I’d found.”

Franks raised a hand, waving it in a circular motion. “And the rest, you know. I spent time in libraries, learning the name of the magic in my head, arcanima. I then learned of Limsa Lominsa and it’s Arcanist’s Guild and went there to study. I might have enrolled in one of their formal degree programs, but I had no paperwork for my identity or previous schooling, as you might have guessed, so the less stringent requirements on the Adventurer’s track was my only option. From there, I started my career as an adventurer, which brought me here to this day.”

Y’shtola rested her head on her fist, processing his tale. “Were this from anyone else, I’d have spun it as one of Rheika’s tall tales, but….I absolutely believe it, coming from you. Have you ever returned to that grotto to see if the portal is still intact? Have you…ever returned to your world?”

“Yes to the former, although not in some time. As to the latter….no. I can’t step through that portal. I can’t….be a corpse again, Y’shtola. I definitely can’t risk being found by the queen again, or leading her to any of my friends if I were to check on them. Worst case scenario is that I escape through, back to Hydaelyn….and she finds it and comes here. No…no I won’t risk that. And I know you, you’ll want to examine this place for yourself. I want you to swear to me, Y’shtola, give me your word you will not step through there, please!”

She nods. “I give you my word, as an Archon and a Scion, I will not take any risks that will bring further dangers to this world.”

He sighs in relief. “Thank you.” He looks to her, a half teasing smile on his face. “So, now you know my story. Does it clarify anything for you? I’ve lost count, and I haven’t quite managed to work out the differences in years between this world and my old one, but you think you might still be attracted to me knowing I’ve seen probably over a hundred summers at this point?”

Y’shtola smiles. “I…think I will need time to process that, my friend. I will need time to process everything you’ve told me.” She makes her way to the workshop door and opens it, lingering by the door briefly before turning back to look at him. “But in fairness….it does not immediately change how I feel, either.”

He laughs “Well, good night, Y’shtola. Let me know what you find out…on both fronts, aye?”

“I will. Good night, Franks.”

“Aleister.”

She had almost made it past the doorway when he replied to her. She stopped and turned her head back to him. “Pardon?”

“My given name. It’s Aleister. Figured you should know it along with the story. Prefer you stick with ‘Franks’ or ‘Old Man’ in front of others, but I wanted you to know. And if you decide you do want to move forward with….us…..well, I’d like hearing it from ya.”

She smiled again. “Thank you, Aleister. I’ll see you soon, with answers. Good night”. She left the room, closing the door behind him.

Franks stared at the door for a couple of minutes, then chuckled and resumed cleaning his equipment again. It was getting late, after all.

[dragonrajafanfiction]

Tokyo Tower (Part 5) Butterfly Effect

Please enjoy this! :D I’ve changed a lot about this scene to cut out the irrelevant and pointless parts and keep it focused on the MC and the characters we want to see! @rurifangirl by request

“You think I would use the perfect evolutionary medicine on my own daughter and use her to create the perfect dragon race?"

"The so-called perfect evolution is the ultimate evolution that can maintain divine wisdom. Even if she evolves into a dragon, she is still your daughter. With her obedience to you, she can destroy the world for you, which is the reason you have been raising her so far."

“And if you get God's fetal blood, you'll use it on yourself?"

"It seems that only using it on myself is the safest way. I wanted to try it on Chime as well, but that boy is too hard to control, a viper's heart hidden under a feminine appearance!"

You speak the words but your playful manner has gone and been replaced with a numb realization that so long as Herzog was alive, you’d never find peace. You had a sisterhood and love with Renata but she was shot in front of you. You had just found love again before Herzog had Chance assassinated. And now that you had finally taken solace in a man like Ruri Kazama and bonded as a sister again with Erii, here he was threatening them both.

It would never end. Next would be Caesar, Chu Zihang, Lu Mingfei and then, once he was finished with you, you would be next. The man was a bottomless pit. He had no attachments, no empathy. Nor could he have them even if he wanted to. He’s whole life’s view was eat-or-be-eaten. There was no such thing as balance, no such thing as co-existence.

What he liked to call evolution was nothing but eternal slaughter, breathtaking in its scope. It was hard to believe someone like him could exist. You were horrified and amazed. While you have made decisions to kill others before, for the first time, you’re confronted with someone who had to die in the most absolute of terms.

You speak up again after listening for a bit. “Herzog and Erii were both exposed to dragon blood and started to turn into dragons, but were unable to complete the process. He says they were semi-evolved. Half-evolved. Bondarev has the raw materials Herzog needs, and Herzog has the methods and research to create the evolution medicine. They have agreed to work together.”

You didn’t believe they would really work together. At the first opportunity they would fight to the death. There was very little difference between these two men and the deadpool sphinxes in the mural hall of Genji Heavy Industries. Cannibals.

 "Damn it! How did the Tortoise get here?" Caesar suddenly snarled.

 "Brother!"

Caesar and Ruri Kazama spoke almost simultaneously, both in horror, but the messages conveyed in their tones of voice were completely different. Ruri’s uncontrolled dismay showed that Chisei was still special to him as his brother. Caesar was more concerned about the success of the mission.

“We haven’t had time to blockade Tokyo Tower yet! Tachibana Masamune might still escape!” Caesar shouted.

"Quick! Seal the elevator and the iron ladder! Brother may not have a chance to win against the King General! He will underestimate him!" Ruri Kazama said urgently.

While Caesar was concerned about Tachibana escaping, Ruri Kazama wanted to keep Chisei out of the clutches of Herzog.

"Calling Ruri! Calling Ruri! Change of plan! We're going up the tower now to intercept the King General, you stand by for a kill!" Caesar called loudly.

There was only rustling background noise in your headset. Ruri Kazama's voice disappeared. Caesar switched between different channels, and there was no answer from Ruri Kazama in each channel.

Ruri Kazama might have turned off the communication device or discarded it, in any case, he was detached from the communication network.

“I knew we couldn’t count on that guy!” Caesar yelled in annoyance.

Just like that, the entire operation was in disarray. You didn’t know what happened to him. Maybe an assassin had found him. Maybe Ruri was already dead! “Wait! He said we should stop Chisei!”

Caesar’s voice brooked no arguments. “Ruri Kazama withdrew from the mission. It’s up to us, the commissioners of the Cassel Academy, to carry out the mission of the Secret Party. Since both the King General and Tachibana Masamune have personally admitted to wanting to resurrect the White King, then they have already committed the felony of being enemies of the entire human race and have to be wiped out right now! MC! Lu Mingfei! Prepare your rifles!”

You hesitate. Ruri Kazama specifically told you that not even Chisei Gen was certain to be able to kill the King General. While Caesar was strong and clever and resourceful, he couldn’t rival Chisei's pure brute force. You look down at your sniper rifle in dismay. You heard the King General say that he was a semi-evolved dragon. This rifle was absolutely useless! You throw it down and turn and run.

Mingfei turned his head. “MC! What are you doing!”

The fastest way down the building was the stairwell and you leap down flights at a time. You feel like you were too slow no matter how fast you run! You burst out of the ground floor exit door and streak across the Tokyo Tower’s main plaza. You don’t see Chisei anywhere but you urge yourself to go faster! Lighting flashes and illuminates the black veins on your wrist and black veins peeking out from the collar of your shirt. They pulse like tentacles. You’re running unnaturally fast, fast like a demon, like a werewolf, pushed by the superhuman force of your dragon blood. You didn't need to use blood rage this time. Your condition really was deteriorating, bit by bit. Now Blood Rage was only a thought away.

You reach the stairs faster than any sprinter and start to climb up as fast as you can!

Then you hear footsteps behind you. You whirl to confront who was following.

In the dark and the wind and the rain, you were once again facing Chisei Gen.

Chisei Gen came stepping through the storm, his windbreaker flying like a battle flag in the gale. He was looking up high into the sky, his pupils flowing with the color of molten iron. There is no need for him to sneak. He is an emperor, the absolute emperor. Any opposition he faced he would simply crush with absolute violence.

So you shrink and make yourself as small as possible. “I can’t fight you. I can only tell you that you’re making a mistake! Don’t go up there!”

“What are you doing here?” The sword Onimaru glittered like pure ice in the rain.

“We received intelligence on this meeting from your brother. Caesar and Chu Zihang are also on the way to kill Herz… I mean, the King General and Tachibana for crimes against the Secret party. The King General is a half dragon. Chime didn’t believe you could defeat him and wanted us to stop you from going up.”

At the mention of the name ‘Chime’, Chisei’s eyes burned bright in the dark and the pupils narrowed to needles! He moved like the wind, crushing you against the iron stairs. The metal risers slam into your back leaving deep bruises. Pain explodes in your legs and you realize that he’s broken them. You scream and seize his hair, the only way you feel you can detain him. He’s amber reptilian eyes burn into yours. He snarls low. “I’ll interrogate you later.”

“Fine.” You sob, shaking, pale, and sweaty with pain. You release him. “Go die. Chime is the only one who cares about you anyway.”

Chisei’s eyes widen and then suddenly distance and dim and, for a moment, they revert back to their dark natural color. He looked so much like his brother in this state -- soft, sad, lonely. Those eyes were full of pain and regret. The rain ran in rivers down his face like tears. So little got to him, but those words did.

He straightened up over you and rushed off, flying up the stairs like an eagle, leaving you on the stairs in a curtain of rain. Your legs hurt so bad you want to swoon and every time you look down the world spins and you want to throw up.

“So… how’s it going?”

“How did I know you were going to show up?”

Z sits on the stairs and sighs deeply, holding an umbrella over your head. “Because I’m always by your side. Unlike some people.” He moves his hand to rest it on your hair and then retracts it. “I really do support you. You’re important. And I would rather things have gone my way with our relationship. But, like I said, I can’t make you do something like that. Like the genie in Aladdin. I can’t make you love me.” He chuckled. “But… like the genie, I can fix your legs. And I’ll do that.”

“Why… would you help me? I’m so confused.” You lift your head from the cold metal step. He was still in his fashionable suit and leather shoes.

“I didn’t tell you much when I was courting you, you think I’m going to tell you things now?” He laughed. “You’re doing amazing things. At least, I think you are. Hard to tell.” He turned to look at you with his golden eyes, then his eyes lift up to the stairs where Chisei disappeared. “It’s like the butterfly effect. Tiny little changes that don’t seem to matter have a cumulative effect. Now I’m curious. Hm…” He laughed, musing to himself. “Anyway. Your ride will take a few minutes to get here. In the meantime, I have to let you stay wounded so you don’t wander off and die prematurely. When it’s time to go. You’ll know.” Z stood up and walked away, stepping off the staircase and walking through the rain with nothing but open air beneath him until he vanished out of sight.

You lay on the steps, taking one breath at a time. It was hard not to moan but surely no one heard you over the torrential rain. Your mind drifted to Caesar Gattuso who would probably kill you even if you survived this. Or at least fiercely scold you. He would ask you what you were thinking, running off and confronting a furious Chisei Gen alone. You should have known he’d crumple you like paper. Caesar’s supposed to be the only one with the harebrained ideas.

You wondered what you were thinking. And you recall Ruri Kazama’s desperate words.

Brother!

It wasn’t just any exclamation. Chime was terrified of losing Chisei. His twin brother.

You hear a sudden loud bang, like there was a car collision right above you. As you look, a dark shape looms towards you. You feel a sudden jolt of fear! Metal bits and shredded dark pieces of cloth are raining all around your head and you hear the rattle of machine gun fire from the stairs!

“Ouch! … oh… Ow! Ow!”

A man-shaped thing was moaning while dangling by a rope between the shadowy metal struts of Tokyo tower. You recognized the voice. “Fingel?”

He sighed, whimpering. He was spinning while holding on to a thick rope. “Oh hey girly. Fancy meeting you here.”

“What happened?”

“Uh… the King had an escape plan. A big ol’ metal blimp! Bigger than mine! Haha!” He flinched. “Ow.”

You push yourself upright and suddenly realize that your pain is gone! You look down at your legs. 

They were fine.

At that moment, far more ferocious weapons than assault pistols boomed on the far roof of the building. It was Mingfei!

“The King’s escaping?” You grip the hand rail and pull yourself up. Your legs are wobbly, like you’d been sitting for hours, but they didn’t hurt.

“Yeah… I’m… I’m done here.” Fingel wearily groaned. “I want ramen… and more of that miso soup. I think I’m going to get out of the way. Good luck!” Fingel suddenly started sliding down the rope.

“Hey get back here! I don’t… I don’t have any weapons!” You lean against the hand rail to look down but he is already gone. You grumble to yourself. “Dog with no morality.”

“You can always join meeeee….” Fingel shouted from below.

He was right. You could go home right now. But Ruri was still out there. He might need your help. And… your legs were fine. You sigh deeply.

Chisei was an idiot. He didn’t listen. He never listened. He had a set path, a script to follow and he was following it without delay.

But Chime loved him. 

You push away from the railing and turn away from Fingel and dash up the stairs. You climb on healed legs until you reach the top of the stairs. The outer observation deck was completely covered in broken glass. Every window had been blown out. Chisei Gen was standing on the observation deck with submachine guns but he didn’t even notice you. He was staring into the distance and you follow his gaze.

The King General’s blimp was still aloft, but it was disabled. The man was hanging on by a ladder and buffeted like a limp doll in the wind. Immediately, something like a light black hawk took off from the rooftop of the building next to him, the gusty wind pounding its wings, carrying it to the sky. When the lift was exhausted and this strange bird reached the apex of it’s climb, it turned violently and swooped down like thunder and lightning.

it was a black glider, and under the glider hung a dressed-up Ruri Kazama!

 He was wearing a dazzling kimono, his robe and sleeves danced in the wind and rain. He carried his cherry red sword in his hand. Even without makeup, his plain white face was as beautiful as a supreme heavenly maiden, but with a lion-like smile.

He came in full costume to kill!

The blimp’s rudder was broken. It couldn't dodge and everyone could only watch Ruri Kazama's performance. The black wings hid the General from everyone’s eyes and no one knew his last expression. Whether he changed that mask-like smile.

 Ruri Kazama brushed past the hanging ladder and cut off the King General's head with a single slash.

That was not the end of it. With his gliding wings, he expertly whirled around the King's corpse in a very tight circle, and the second slash cut the king in half at the waist. The third cut severed the hanging ladder. The King's body fell in pieces in the pouring rain, and Ruri Kazama waved his sword in the air to remove the blood on it, and his glider carried him into the buildings ahead.

This was the real trap with no way out, where the strongest bloodline ability cannot be brought to bear. Ruri Kazama understood that Herzog would never entrap himself in the tower. He already guessed that he would have an airship prepared to escape, but, because Ruri did not trust anyone, he didn’t say anything to anyone.

Not even you.

The air was filled with his laughter after he had won, like the laughter of an actor on stage, so exaggeratedly contrived, but hollow and sad. He hated Herzog so much. Your mind fills with questions. Why did he hate him so much? How many years did he prepare to kill this man?

“Chime…” Chisei’s eyes were full of questions and confusion too.

He finally noticed your presence and stiffened, hand on his sword. But you don’t move. “Do you believe me now?” You ask.

Chisei’s hand released. “How.”

“Oh this?” You shake one leg at him. “The ghost of my dead boyfriend came and healed me.”

Chisei’s gaze unfocused and you realized that you meant Z but Chisei was thinking of Chance. “I won’t ask your forgiveness.” He said.

“Good.” You bark a laugh. “I guess that means you’re not a total idiot.” You cross your arms over your chest and smirk.

Chisei sighs, but he smiles a bit. “Even in a dire situation as this, you make me laugh.”

“I have a feel for a dragon’s sense of humor. If the dragon is laughing, it cannot eat you.” You tilt your head slightly.

“And why are you here?” Chisei looked past you.

Moving like a shadow and completely unnoticed by you, Sakura Yabuki stepped forward. She had been at your back, ready to kill you if needed. You feel a sudden chill, but the danger was already over before you noticed it.

"As a result of a discussion with Crow. It was expected that you would come to the special observation deck, so I decided to send men to protect you." Sakura's answer was curt, "I was the only one suitable for the job, so I came."

Lithely muscled, tall, in a black bodysuit and face half covered, Sakura Yabuki was made to live in the shadows. You’d only seen her a few times on your arrival, but hadn’t seen her again since. It was probably a good thing. She didn’t seem to be the type who let you see her at all, unless she was the last thing you ever saw.

What stands out to you though was that subtle humor. Your eyebrows raise. She was funny!

You hear a soft grunt. Bondarev was holding his chest. He smiled that winning smile up at you. “MC. Long time no see!”

Anger rose from the soles of your feet to the top of your head and you stare down at him, fiercely judging. “What’s done is done. I’m not into revenge.”

“Yes… I will… face the judgement of God.” Bondarev hung his head slightly.  “Chisei… let this girl go. She’s caught up in it. She’s innocent.”

“Cut the crap, Bondarev.” You say in sharp blistering Russian. He looks up at you again, eyes wide. “You’re not going to fool me. The minute I turn around, you’ll have me killed. This will end in blood because you don���t know how to live any other way.”

For a moment, Bondarev’s blue eyes sparkled. His Russian was smooth and unbothered by his injuries. “You’ve… learned Dr. Herzog’s lessons very well.”

Your lips quirk up in a smile. 

Chisei’s eyes bounce from your face to his. “You … know each other?”

“Long story.” You back away from all of them, hands raised. “Do what you need to. I won’t interfere.”

"We must hurry up and get someone to clean up the scene," Bondarev said.  "...and call a doctor for me."

"You've been taking some kind of drugs, haven't you?" Chisei Gen asked.

In the low light, you noticed an abnormal sheen on his body. It was the play of the light on small ivory scales.

"It's worse than that, it's preserved fetal blood, but with serum therapy, it's no problem to live for another few years or even a decade." Tachibana smiled, "Maybe enough to live to attend your wedding."

You glance at him and he meets your eye. Why would he mention that in front of you? Speaking in English, a language you would understand... Did he think you didn’t know about the serum treatment? He knows you’re dying and is dangling that in front of you. But you’re covered. Caesar would make sure to knock him off his throne and give you the leadership of Japan and the serum treatment without the constant threat of death. You respond to his look with a derisive snort and an unpleasant grin. You drawl in Russian. “No, thanks.”

The rain was still falling. The wind was sweeping across the special observation deck and carried a faint cry to your ears.

‘Tachibana’ froze for a few seconds and a great fright came into his eyes. He retreated step by step towards the interior. Chisei and Sakura also retreated with him. The majestic wind and rain seems to hide something more terrifying than even the King General.

Surprised, you turn to look for yourself.

A black shadow rose slowly from below the observation deck. The heavy rain hit its greenish-gray scales, breaking into a shining white mist. It unfolded several meters wide wings gently waving them in a graceful rhythm. A long snaky fish tail slowly stretches below its body.

Its long, dark hair is disheveled in the wind and rain, hiding its pretty female face. The corners of its mouth moved slightly, as if to laugh out loud, but what came out was a baby-like cry, and its mouth was full of thorny sharp teeth.

Flying Deadpool.

Not one but a group. They rose up from all directions, as if they were flying snakes in ancient frescoes, a sight that in the legends of all ancient civilizations heralded cataclysm.

[capri-ramblings]

Yikes,I know there's bound to be questions but trust me, chapter 3 will answer most of them. Aha,I'm sorry if this chapter is kinda confusing at first,I'm not good at planning out thoughts or stories systemically,it kinda makes it harder for me to write whenever I try to. But here,the second chapter of Raptured! Thank you for reading! ( ꈍᴗꈍ) ♥️

[ R a p t u r e d ]

Chapter 2: Banter

In the moment Riddle had finished telling his brothers what conspired with their human captive, the first to speak up was Azul.

"They offered what?" His words were a mix of shock and amusement, gaze fixated on Riddle who seemed almost flustered from how red his cheeks were.

The red haired sighed, sending him a narrow eyed glare before crossing his arms.

"The head of their own brother"

"By their own hands?" Kalim asked aloud, his features scrunched up worryingly. "Isn't that bad? Why would anyone want to kill their own brother so suddenly?"

From the chaise across the room,Leona let out a scoff, lips upturned into a smirk.

"What are you? A five year old? If you give a herbivore the chance of freedom,they'd leave their entire fleet open to make sure they survive. Humans aren't so different."

"Indeed" Vil joined in with a smile of his own. "Humans are very fickle things, they live out their life struggling and as a result they stink of repulsion."

"They can barely even stand on their own.." Idia added thoughtfully and as the gazes of his brothers turned to him, the flames on his hair flickered and he looked away.

"Maybe the isolation's got to their head?"

Riddle let out a scoff, his lips upturned in a sneer almost too vicious to be formed on such a delicate looking face.

"The cottage they were in was secluded from the rest of the village,they were already a reclusive. Why should it bother them now?"

"Maybe Idia has a point" Kalim interjected then "Before they were on their own by choice...and they weren't exactly trapped in a tower either"

"It's all the same" Leona snapped " Damn herbivores will always be too fragile."

"Though, our soft-shelled brothers have a sound reason" Vil's lips curled in an effortless smile,his ever sharp gaze glinting like jewels.

"At this rate our small hare is going to die before the homage from her brother, and that makes all of this pointless."

The room went silent then. Each males having their own thoughts wrapped around the situation.

When they came to a decision to face the hunter who killed their family beast, he was nowhere to be seen and left tending to his cottage was none other than their captive human, a young sibling unaware of what their fool brother had committed. They opted it was easier to simply kidnap them and have their brother come looking since neither one of them wanted to wait around. There was also the fact that the death of the beast had affected their Mother's health greatly, and all seven brothers fumed with rage.

"Our methods doesn't matter anymore" Riddle spoke up, "What's done is done. We can't exactly just put them back where we found them."

"I agree" Azul said "Though if the human dies in our care now, when we're fully able to change their situation, I fear the price of that loss would be great."

"What? Are the humans going to chase us around with pitchforks?" Leona sneered,his sharp fangs visible as he leaned back into the chaste. "You saw how further in their cottage was, chances are the herbivore doesn't even go down to the village often enough for people to notice them missing."

"They can't die." Idia drawled the words out this time,his gaze sharp and harsh as he stared down Leona who all but grinned at his brother.

"Why? Because you like them?" The laugh that barked out from Leona was cruel and Idia flinched.

"Go ahead and save the poor herbivore then,Prince Idia of the lands of burrowed moles. You think they'd ever look at you fondly?"

"Enough." Riddle came between the fight with his own ire and before he sent a glare towards Leona, he let Idia catch the solace in his.

The situation was getting worst. They needed a decision quick.

"You're not a five year old as well,Leona, so keep that tongue of yours tamed"

"What are you? Suddenly playing the role of the Eldest when you can't even reach his height?" Leona scrutinized Riddle with an aggression that seemed ready to claw him in the face, but Riddle kept his own spite and promptly choose to ignore his brother.

Instead,he turned to Azul.

"The hunter should've came back and see his sibling gone, you even sent those eels of yours to make sure he got the hints. Why hasn't he made a single move? It's been two months."

"Maybe he's forgetful?" Kalim chipped in, eyes glowing. Riddle wanted to tap the side of his face and gently tell him to shut up but Vil patted his head instead.

"A forgetful hunter managing to kill a wild beast is unlikely, mein bruder"

Azul crossed his arms,gaze narrowing.

"They've sent word that they have information regarding our human and the whereabouts of their brother"

"And?" Vil prompted.

"I told them to come meet us as soon as they can, which shouldn't be long."

The moment those words were uttered, a dull thud came from the would-be-entrance of the tower, and a familiar voice calling out.

"My Princes! Open the door please!" The urgency of the voice had all the present Princes turning their head, though the one who seemed genuinely surprised and concerned was Kalim.

"That voice..." He said, turning to Azul "Is that who I think it is?"

Azul's lips curled into a knowing smile and with a flick of his fingers, the sound of a door being swung opened then slammed shut could be heard within the tower itself,followed by light rapid footsteps approaching them.

Out of breath and desperately panting, a young girl made a hasty bow as she came before the Princes, though the way her legs slightly trembled suggested that she was near collapsing.

"It is her!" Kalim's eyes grew wide with familiarity, the worry in his voice replaced with joy as he came up to place his hand on the girl's shoulder.

"The last time I saw you, you were still learning how to walk!" Kalim's loud voice seemed to make her flinch but the girl met his gaze with warmth before she bowed her head again.

"Pleasure to meet you again,Prince Kalim." She's heard stories of him, the Prince Fae known to give out bits of his treasures to those who come wishing at his well. It seemed odd to act as if she's known him, but she knew better than to put logic before courtesy. He was one of the seven Princes after all. Acting too smart with them was a fool's mistake.

Before Kalim could say anything else, Azul stepped forward and the girl promptly met his side with a suddenly serious demeanor.

"I'd ask you for the information I had you fetch but I wonder why you were running in the first place?"

The girl laughed dryly if not nervously.

"Floyd wanted to see who could win in a race in getting here,your Highness."

Azul frowned, internally sighing.

"Why on Earth did you agree to that?"

Again, the girl laughed. "He terrifies me,my Prince."

Riddle couldn't place where he's met her, but hearing her words had him internally sympathising her. Azul's leeches were a pair he'd gladly avoid for eternity as well.

"So,you got a changeling to be at your beck and call as well,Azul?" Vil sounded amused as he turned to Azul, but the degrading glance he gave the girl bellied the smile coyly sitting on his lips then.

"She's indebted to us anyway" Azul stated simply "Why not put her to work?"

His gaze returned to the girl.

"What do you have about our human then?"

It took a full ten minutes for the young changeling to inform them of what she's managed to compile on their human and hunter. Turns out they aren't related by blood but by marriage. Apparently most of the villagers knew of the hunter but rarely saw the younger sibling as they took more liking in staying indoors. There was also talk that their relationship with one another was never close and answered Riddle's question as to why he hadn't showed up yet.

"So, he's just going to leave his sibling at our mercy?" Kalim asked,he had his expression scrunched up with worry and pity again but Leona shared none of it and only growled with distaste.

"There won't be mercy if they're left with us a second longer"

Riddle caught the flicker of Idia's flames and instantly reacted.

"Threaten to murder our captive one more time and I'll have your head,Leona."

"Hah, you're trying to scare me,Riddle?" Leona sneered,fangs glistening with malice. He's been irritated by the whole situation since the beginning. Taking in a human in hopes that another would appear to save them, it was all a damn fairytale. Leona knew humans were selfish, his brothers should've had that piece of common sense drilled into their heads as well. No one was going to play hero for their captive.

Riddle gritted his teeth and again instead of lashing out senselessly, he swirled around to face the changeling. Every bit of his anger flaring in his grey gaze.

"Where's the hunter now?" He asked,though it sounded painfully like a death threat.

The changeling bowed her head.

"He's at the human King's palace,Prince Riddle. King Aothor ...of Nostorne"

The words sent the entire room tilting, and Riddle would've gripped her by her neck if Azul hadn't stepped forward.

"King? Since when did the humans have a King?" The last time they came to the world,their mother's shrine was built almost everywhere to acknowledge her ruling. Had times changed so drastically since their absence?

"Yes. It's been this way for years now. A dukedom raised after Her Most Divine's departure from the human realm and ever since then a lineage of human nobles have taken the throne as the Human ruler."

"My, how futuristic, and here we were in the guise that we still sat on the top of their world" Vil was laughing but his words cut into the tension of the room like a blade coated in venom and the changeling girl shifted uncomfortably.

"It seems like the order of the slaughtering was made by him and ultimately fulfilled by the hunter. His name is Cyril and he's being celebrated by the King for his bravery."

Leona heaved a heavy sigh,leaning once more into his chaise. He looked ready to fall into a deep slumber already but his irritation kept him awake.

"So,we have information. Now what's the plan?"

***

Jade and Floyd,two of Azul's trusted companions came into the situation while the Princes were sorting out their thoughts and opinions (Which all greatly contradict one another) and brought word that their hunter had refused to save their sibling in a conversation Jade overheard him had with another hunter right before he was called on by the King.

"He said he knew of the Fae's trick and that by taking something of theirs as his own, he'd gladly give anything they took from him as compensation." Jade explained in his usual matter-of-fact tone,his mismatched gaze still and knowing.

Riddle clicked his tongue, brows furrowing. Idia's was the most sympathetic along with Kalim while Leona and Vil seemed ready to send a fleet of their army to storm into the human villages.

"I'm not really surprised though" Floyd spoke up lazily "He seems like a guy who'd do that kind of thing anyways"

"But now the Princes are stuck with keeping a human captive in their care", Boe,the young changeling from earlier, pointed out grimly.

"What if we sent you to negotiate with him in our stead?" Idia suggested which earned a rather hasty look from the girl.

"Human royals don't take too kindly to my kind,Prince Idia. I doubt he'd even let me enter"

Leona let out a menacing growl. One that reverberated through the tower walls.

"This is going nowhere. Riddle, go up to that damn herbivore and have them beg their brother come and pay his homage so we can give them back."

Riddle frowned.

"You heard the changeling,Leona. If their relationship with their brother is as bad as we've heard, do you really think they'd beg for him to come save them?"

"Couldn't you talk some sense in them?" Azul had eyes turning once more to the young changeling who all but reluctantly slumped her shoulders.

"I don't see how me being the one talking will get them to cooperate..."

"Clamshell,you should at least try,right?" Floyd's smile was sickly sweet and when he attempted to sling his arm over her shoulders, she avoided the outcome by shifting close to Jade.

"What would you want me to say to them?"

"The offer they gave" Riddle said "Have them elaborate more on that. I'm not going into a deal without knowing why it was proposed in the first place."

There was hesitation in her eyes but it was swiftly changed to a silent resolve as she nodded her head.

"I'll see what I can do."

[cosmic-navel-gazin]

In which I chronicle my Legacy of Kain journey and bridge it with your boy Adam Warlock! (Part 5 of many, and MASSIVE, I MEAN, HUMOUNGOUS SPOILERS for Soul Reaver 2 and the 1970’s Warlock)

Awwwwwwwww yeah we are going there, these compositions are most definitely on purpose.

This is where I realize that my true purpose in this world is to draw and talk about obscure or forgotten works of fiction, and I embrace this destiny. 

Ladies and gents, laughing times are over (not really though), sh*t gets very real again.

I guess it’s a bit late for this but if you have even the slightest interest in checking any of these properties out, do yourself a favor and go experience them first hand. If you just want to see me lose my mind and don’t really care about spoilers then please, proceed.

You know, when I started this little crossover of sorts, I was just having a laugh you know? It was just a cute little thing, I’ll write this one post and maybe I’ll get enough material for a second one and that’s it. THIS IS THE SEVENTH POST (even though it says Part 5). 

Never, and I do mean never in my wildest dreams did I think I would be here one day, talking about having your past and your time-travelling-future selves meet and clash, of seeing your sanctimonious attitude and overall the worst about yourself personified and given free reign to go on bloodthirsty crusades showing off how much of a hypocrite you’ve bee- but wait, I am getting a bit ahead of myself. 

I’ll get there I promise, let’s go back a bit.

Where we last left off, we managed to travel back to an even more distant past than we’ve been before. To the time of the great Vampire Purge, so that Raziel can meet this infamous ancient vampire who knows all the lore and might have the answers we seek on what exactly is causing the corruption of our world.

As we step out into this era of History we notice the fields covered with the Sarafan Order banners, and the impaled corpses and chopped-off heads of vampires. No different no doubt from the kindness vampires showed mankind later when they gained the upper hand during Kain’s 1.000 year old reign. Raziel seems a bit distraught by the sight since he assumed the Sarafan to be virtuous and heroic:

“For all the butchery of Moebius’s crusade, this massacre was somehow more chilling. The killing fields of the Sarafan betrayed a kind of orderly ruthlessness, the cold-blooded righteousness of the true believer.”

“Here at last in the flesh, I beheld my former brothers-in-arms, the warrior-priests of the Sarafan order; their lives devoted solely to the annihilation of the vampire plague. And while I confess I felt a twinge of longing, a pang of grief for what I had believed was my lost virtue, I regarded them now with none of the reverence I formally felt. For I had seen the human face of the vampires, and now I beheld the monstrousness of these men.”

While on the topic of genocidal holy wars, my boy Adam here had a bit of a run with a similar pious little group that goes by the name of Universal Church of Truth, who were going about doing a bit of cleaning throughout the galaxy:

Things don’t go so well:

Interestingly enough, I’ve learned of a deleted cutscene for Soul Reaver 2 that plays out very similarly to Adam’s first encounter with this “holy” order. There was this minor female vampire character that was being hunted down and would be executed by vampire hunters right in front of Raziel.

This scene was probably removed because they knew that almost 20 years later there would be some asshole on the internet trying to compare their games to obscure marvel comics of the 70’s.

But yeah bummer for Adam here, we’re a couple of pages in and he’s already failed to save someone. However, through the power of the Soul Gem, he’s able to retain her soul for a brief moment, letting us know more about these holy inquisitors:

Some of these methods don’t seem that far off from the Sarafan, especially on the twisting of good intentions part, but on a galactic scale:

Aye, a great bunch o’ fellas all around, if you submit and “fit in”:

Damn.

Hush Adam, I’ll get back to your predicament give me a moment. I just want the good people at home to keep both this church and the Magus, the god they worship in mind for later.

Now, back to the game. In the Sarafan Stronghold during the first hour of gameplay, Raziel made comments on the vampire he’s currently seeking while looking at some stained glass depictions:

“So this was the legendary Janos Audron - reputed to have been the most ancient and diabolical vampire to have ever existed. According to folklore, he lived high in the cliffs of Nosgoth’s northern mountains, and preyed mercilessly on the defenseless villagers below. His reign of terror ended when the Sarafan finally hunted him down and tore his throbbing heart from his still-living body. (…) But I wondered - could Janos Audron truly have been as monstrous as depicted here? Or was this merely artistic licence by the Sarafan, who sought to lionize themselves by demonizing their darkest enemy?

Keep these stained glass images in mind, they’ll also be important shortly. Neetheless to say, the hype was very real to meet this Janos Audron.

And as I kept hearing about this gentleman, I thought: “I really love this cast of pricks, where everyone speaks in half truths and is hiding something and has some hidden agenda, but you know, I kind of wish there was some slim ray of hope, of goodness and honor, just some good old plain chivalry and honesty. Maybe this Janos lad won’t be as bad as he was depicted back in the Sarafan Stronghold.” 

It took us a while but we’re finally make it to his retreat.

I really love the entire segment, the hopelessness and feeling of dread while making your way through this place, probably my favourite puzzle area of the game.  I also really love the music and architecture here.

When we do make it to the top, BOY OH BOY were my prayers answered!

Lo and behold, enter Raziel’s new daddy/mentor figure, my man JANOS AUDRON! Proabably the one decent and kind creature I’ve seen yet in these games (if you don’t count helpless human npcs who are just trying to live their lives but are caught in all these wars, slaughter and destruction).

FINALLY an understanding, moderate, compassionate man in the midst of all the lies and deception. I love him! Oh and he has what seems to be a Romanian accent. Maybe a nod to the granddaddy of all vampires: Dracula? I think his design is cool as well, so that helps.

Before we go into huge lore dumps and while on the topic of having a brief father/mentor figure for your protagonist when he’s utterly lost, alone and confused, I thought I’d bridge it with Adam’s own once foster parent, the High Evolutionary:

From the few minutes you get to know these dads they’re very different characters with different backstories and motivations. Janos is this sad lonely old man, the last of the ancient vampires and one who has been keeping himself alive solely for his sense of duty. 

While the High Evolutionary was once a man called Herbert Wyndham who performed an experiment that evolved him into a godlike being. This experience proved to be such an assault on his senses and perceptions that he chose to encase himself in this armour. Like the name suggests he is obsessed with genetic manipulation and tampering of various kinds, it is his life’s ambition. 

Despite his somewhat villainous appearance, he’s never portrayed as such from what little I’ve read, he’s just…a bit creepy. Like, he takes Adam in and is super stoked about adopting him, but he also values him not so much as a person per se as you and me would, but more as one would value an impressivly carved piece of work:

I don’t know, maybe it’s his metal face that doesn’t emote much; his sometimes questionable morality; maybe it’s the fact that Adam was 5 years old at this point, a baby boy, and this pink armoured deity is super hyped about him; there’s something a bit unsettling about this guy. Have some more dubious quotes I’ve stumbled upon:

All in all, I think he did care about him, in his own strange way:

Anyway, what’s important is that these adoptive dads serve a somewhat similar purpose, and that is to push/urge our ”“”“"heroes”“”“” (I say with many quotation marks) into a more benevolant role: to guide them in their messianic mission and save a corrupted world. Basically there to provide a chance for them to be good boys. Up until now their track record leaves much to be desired, and they’ve been quite lost on what they’re supposed to be and do.

Raziel:

“So it’s all true, then - what Kain and Vorador have told me - I really am some kind of unholy vampire messiah…”

Janos:

“Unholy? -no. Messiah… perhaps.”

Raziel:

“I don’t like that word - it smells of martyrdom.”

Janos:

“Raziel, your role in this world’s destiny is more crucial - and more benevolent - than you’ve allowed yourself to believe. Your journey will not be easy - dark powers are allied against you.”

Oh and both dads give their sons their toys (Soul Reaver and Soul Gem):

Back to the meeting with Janos, we finally learn tons of things, both new and others that have been hinted at throughout, namely:

Janos has been living a life of a recluse, alone, on top of the Aerie;

Janos knows of Raziel (some old legend I think) and has been waiting for him to hand him over the Soul Reaver, saying it is the key to save Nosgoth;

The Pillars of Nosgoth were erected by the ancient vampires and they were the rightful guardians. Janos was called to be th 10th guardian, the Keeper of the Reaver;

Over time this ancient race started to die out, with their history slowly being forgotten;

Humanity prospered and since the Pillars choose their guardians from birth and vampires were no longer born, humans were called to be their guardians but were “wholly ignorant of their true purpose.”

The Circle of human guardians is led to believe (by whom we do not yet know) that vampires are a cancer in the world. Janos warns that “with their vampire purge, the members of the Circle have assaulted the very architects of the Pillars they are sworn to protect (…) With every vampire they kill, the humans are slitting their own throats.”

Janos being a cool level-headed guy here when Raziel says he must hate mankind for all the suffering they’ve brought to him:

“They fear what they don’t understand; and they despise what they fear. But no - I do not hate them.”

I find it funny how Raziel asks if humanity should be forgiven for trying to exterminate the vampire kind and doesn’t realize that: one, he himself was exterminating vampires just a couple of moments ago back in SR1; and two, how he is just like how Janos describes humanity to be:

“They don’t understand what they’re doing. They are simply unenlightened… and vulnerable to manipulation.”

Again, this last line, completely unlike a certain blue shambling corpse I know. Not like him AT ALL.

Then, as they head inside, we learn something odd as Janos presents Raziel with the Reaver. You see, the two times Raziel has been close to the Soul Reaver still in its physical form, reality started to bend and distort (I show it off in this previous post). 

When we met Kain and decided not to kill him, he explained that when: “two incarnations of the blade meet in time and space, a paradox is  created, a temporal distortion powerful enough to derail history”

This distortion, or sense of displacement however, is nowhere to be found now when Janos presents the blade to him. Raziel feels nothing and says that “this nothingness is somehow worse…” and to get it away from him.

We learn the Reaver was forged by the same ancient vampire race that erected the Pillars (which we’ve seen hinted at when we explored the land and came accross all sorts of old murals).

But now THIS is when the game first impales me through the heart.

Me and Janos are interrupted by the Sarafan warriors who arrive carrying Moebius’ Staff (which disables vampires to the point of being barely able to move at all).

And of course! OF COURSE! Of course the moment my boy Raziel finds a truly positive influence in his life to guide and enlinghten him, and that was willing to put himself in danger in order to save him… he is axed! HEART RIPPED FROM HIS CHEST!

And by whom you ask? Who would do such a deed and kill my last ray of hope?

WHY, ME! 

TWICE!

“Me” because I was the one to open an entrance to Janos’ up until then impenetrable retreat, and literally me: human Raziel of the Sarafan that lived during this time period and was head inquisitor!

A bit different from what was depicted back at the Sarafan Stronghold, we found several centuries later (putting the same image here again so you don’t have to scroll up to compare, am I swell or what?):

The Sarafan escape with Janos’ heart and the Reaver, while wraith Raziel has a final moment with Janos. 

This part destroys me:

Raziel:

“Forgive me; I’m sorry… I failed you.”

Janos: (gently)

“No, Raziel. Perhaps this was my true purpose - simply to save your life this once.”

Raziel: (distraught)

“While I have taken yours…”

That last bit is probably my favourite line-read in the entire series so far (which is the most impossible thing to choose since there are so many great ones). But I think it’s the overwhelming sadness in Raziel’s voice that makes it memorable, you’ve never seen him feel like this for another creature.

Breaks my stone hardened heart every time I listen to it. And here’s why I think it’s an effective emotional scene, even though we only get a few minutes with Janos before he is murdered - it is because of contrast. Up until now everyone you meet is some degree of a bad or manipulative person, and you don’t really have a true friend or someone to confide in, there’s no one that really brings out the best in Raziel and it sucks because there is potential there.  So when you introduce the apparently only decent and noble person in this god forsaken land and you’re so used to by now suspect and mistrust everyone, it is impactful because he was truth and honesty in a sea of deception and moral relativism. He was my light in the midst of the fog and the one who saw good in me. And right when you’re finally relaxing and getting confortable the game pulls the rug from under you.

Now, while on the topic of having your past and future meet, there was a little something about the meeting between Adam and the Universal Church of Truth that I’ve been saving up until now. If you remember, Adam was interrogating the young woman who was killed by the inquisitors about the church and the god they worship. When suddenly:

Good news is, Adam must’ve taken a left turn somewhere and ended up on the set for “Monty Python’s Life of Brian”, where he learned some latin:

This helped him quickly figure out the Magus’ identity:

Learn your dead tongues kids, you never know when it might come in handy when meeting your time travelling, thousands of years old future-self:

So as you can se, we have a similar self-discovery journey going on but reversed in a way. In Raziel’s case you play as his future self, who time travels back in time, meets his past self and sees what a hypocrite he’s been his entire life. In Adam’s case you follow his present self, who meets the Magus (his future self), who has travelled back in time 5.000 years, in which time he has built his empire. Meeting and confronting said empire/future self, leads Adam to see what a hypocrite he’s been his entire life. You see, both Adam and Raziel have always been their own worst enemy (their own shortcomings and character flaws). So it would be only natural that we get embodiments of the worst in them: Raziel, the human Sarafan Warrior and the Magus, their past and future selves respectively.

Oof, this was a long one, and I’ve reach the character limit. In the next post I’ll elaborate more on their characters and different selves; and we go through the roller-coaster of emotions that is the endgame for both these stories.

Look foward to me losing my mind even further while I go into time travelling, paradox shenanigans… oh, and look foward to happier times with COSMIC SUICIDE! See you in the near future.

[one-boring-person]

What's It To You? (Part Two)

Dwayne (The Lost Boys) x reader(ish)

Warnings: bad language, graphic depictions of blood and death, slight nudity (nothing graphic)

Context: Dwayne has another encounter with the werewolves

A/N: as promised here is part two! It turned out very differently to how I imagined it, but I quite like it. I may develop this if I have time, but we'll have to see

Masterlist

Tagging: @thetempleofthemasaigoddess (original requester)

The roads are eerily quiet, bare except for the lone motorcycle speeding up towards Hudson's Bluff, the near-full moon serving to light the way, even as it is mostly cast in darkness. The figure astride the bike leans forwards over the tank of the vehicle, revving the engine, intent on getting back to the cave faster, knowing the food strapped to the back is getting somewhat cold. His dark hair whips out behind him, flowing smoothly in the rushing wind created by the speed of the bike, allowing the vampire to see clearly.

Around him, Dwayne barely notices the dark forest, paying no attention to it, just as he usually does, never having encountered anything there that may harm him, and not expecting to, either. Internally, he knows that there's no way he'd be able to hear if there were anything there, given that the motorcycle's engine ruined any chance of picking up anything, even despite his enhanced hearing, so he doesn't think too much on it.

He has, however, been plagued by a peculiar feeling since he turned onto this particular road. Something isn't quite right, the hairs on the back of his neck pricking up as a chill runs down his spine, the reflex surprising him; nothing has made him do that, not since he turned, anyway. The vampire tries to ignore it, but he can't fight the pressing notion that he's being watched - and not just by one person, either. 

For the first time, he curses the volume of his motorbike's engine, wishing now that he could hear and acknowledge everything around him, and so assess whether or not he's in any real danger. He tightens his grip on the handlebars, gritting his teeth, beating down the rising unease in his gut, reminding himself that it's not too far before he has to turn off onto the cliff, at which point he'll mostly leave behind the eerie forest, and hopefully the sensation with it. Thankful for his sharp vision, he takes in the sight of a sharp bend, a little way away, taking it with ease as he nears it.

His hand clenches tightly around the brake, the bike skidding to a halt with a sharp squeal.

A pair of glowing amber eyes stare him down, blazing brightly in the beam of his headlight, holding his gaze steadily. Swallowing, Dwayne maintains the eye contact, having taken in the form of the silhouette instantly: a huge wolf, easily the size of a small pony, its body rippling with muscle under a thick pelt of black fur, shot with silver and grey, the creature much more barrel-chested than any normal canine. Its lips pull back slightly over its glistening fangs, the gesture disturbingly reminiscent of a smirk as it releases a low growl, as if laughing at him. 

Dwayne has no idea how to react, feeling the natural instinct of his vampirism rising up in him, his own eyes turning yellow as his fangs push at his lower lip, threatening to expose themselves. He forces this down, until he realises that the hulking wolf before him is not his only problem. At least eight others have emerged from the darkness, circling him like sharks as they snarl lowly, teeth snapping at him as he glances at each of them. None of them are quite the size of the first, but many are close, their bodies each laden with muscles that would put a timber wolf to shame.

Climbing off of his motorbike, Dwayne bares his own teeth, the food forgotten now as he assesses the situation, figuring out his best way out of the threat. Spreading his weight evenly, he watches the wolves carefully, vaguely surprised when he notices them come to a halt at regular intervals around him, ready to spring into the air to avoid any possible conflict. He should've remembered the werewolves, especially after the last month's encounter with the young female back at the chicken race. 

Just as he goes to move, however, two of the wolves start to contort, the largest one, and a much smaller one, limbs stretching and shrinking, joints and bones cracking audibly as they break and reset themselves. Growls and barks escape the two of them, the pelts starting to melt away into skin, paws becoming hands and feet as muzzles pull back into jaws, fangs retracting into natural canines as human features fall back into place, leaving two recognisable people behind. Dwayne has to bite back a sound of surprise as he comes face to face with the two (very naked) werewolves.

He recognises them both from the chicken race, the first being the muscular guy he'd seen with the dark hair, the second being the reckless racer, her expression that of embarrassment and guilt. She stands somewhat behind the taller man, using his bulky body to conceal her own nudity, though her eyes are fixed on Dwayne's as he regards them both, unsure of where this is going now.

The dark-haired man watches him carefully for a couple more minutes, brown eyes taking in every inch of his body, even as Dwayne looks over him, making sure to avoid his lower half, finding himself admiring the curling patterns of ink swirling across broad shoulders, bleeding down onto a toned torso. Bulging arms are crossed over an incredibly toned abdomen, veins standing out even in the pale light of the moon, the man's black hair falling slightly into his face. Since they last laid eyes on each other, the guy's scruff has grown out a little, giving him a much more roguish look, though it doesn't take away from the admittedly handsome cast of his features. 

"You know, you bloodsuckers are a lot harder to find than I thought you'd be." His voice when he speaks is rough and thick, words almost slurred from how heavy his accent is, clearly not having originated from this part of the country, but rather somewhere more rural.

"There's a reason for that." Dwayne replies, evenly, still tense.

The man lifts an eyebrow, lidded eyes trained on him.

"I'd ask you to elaborate, but I'm not stupid." He bites out, adjusting his stance.

"Good to know." Dwayne frowns, "What do you want?"

Dark eyes narrow, head cocking to the side.

"I hate to admit it, but we need your help."

A moment of silence falls on them, the vampire blinking in surprise, the werewolves watching him closely.

"You can't be serious." Dwayne eventually manages, suspicious now of their true intentions.

"Oh, I'm dead serious, as much as it pains me to admit it." The werewolf growls back, gruff voice laced with disgust.

"Please, hear us out, will you?" The racer from before suddenly speaks up, imploring Dwayne with her eyes from behind her leader.

Curious, Dwayne nods after a moment, returning his gaze back to the surly leader as the racer shoots him a quick smile of thanks.

"I'll be quick saying this, but there's a new coven of witches in town. Bad ones. They haven't taken too kindly to us, and I don't reckon they'll be too happy to have four vampires on their asses, either. We want your help getting rid of them." The leader explains, shifting a little.

"What makes them bad?" Dwayne questions, not too surprised by the knowledge of there being new witches in town.

"They're Sanguis witches. Blood witches, but a very traditional faction of them. They've got a thirst for the stuff that shames you lot, but it's not necessarily human blood they want." He informs him, tightening his jaw, "They've killed three of our youngest members already, all to use in their vile rituals, and from the sounds of things they've been doing the same with humans. There's word on the street of them looking for new blood, too. Preferably vampire."

The news strikes a cold feeling inside Dwayne, the knowledge of the Sanguis Witches of old being something he grew up fearing, particularly their ruthless and remorseless methods of collecting the substance they treasure the most: blood. For years, he'd heard the stories of how they brutally slaughtered entire villages, looking for the perfect sacrifice to use in their barbaric rituals, or how they'd string up unlucky victims like cows in an abattoir and bleed them out, alive, chanting through the screams of the dying men, women and children above them. Their presence in Santa Carla is troubling, and totally unwelcome, especially if they have murder on their minds.

"You're sure it's Sanguis Witches? Not just some over-excited witches trying to live up to someone else's standard?" The vampire questions, unsure of whether or not to believe the werewolf.

"We're sure." The girl replies, wincing at the memory, "We found our youngest completely dismembered and arranged in a pentacle, with the remainders of a spell around her. It's definitely them."

Dwayne grimaces at the thought, the arrangement sounding very much like the horror stories he's heard. He thinks for a moment, before deciding on a course of action.

"I'm willing to help, but first I need to tell the others. You should come, too." He says to the werewolves, "But only you two. Not the others."

Scowling, the male werewolf thinks this over, before nodding, gesturing for the other wolves to leave, which they do so reluctantly.

"You'll need to know our names, I guess." He mutters, watching his pack members go, "I'm Trace, and this is (Y/n)."

"I'm Dwayne." The vampire nods at the two, going back to his bike, "Feel like following on? It's not too far."

"Sure."