#and also made it impossible to tell that there's blood in the water in those opening shots

[weidli]

i know exactly what i want and who i want to be

[disaster-writer]

Tear You Apart

Pairing: Dabi x Reader

Summary: Someone in the League of Villains has been drugging you and doing things to you, and you were going to find out who

Word Count: 6.5k

Rating: X 18+

Warnings: Dark fic, smut, noncon, dubcon, masochism, sadism, drugging, mentions of exhibitionism/vouyerism

Minors DNI

There was a cockroach on your bedroom floor.

Your bedroom that was technically a small storage room with only a small futon and a lamp.

It was staring at you.

So you stared back, as your tired eyes tried to adjust to the blurry cockroach that sat no more than five inches from your face as you lay in bed.

You felt like you were hit by a truck.

The cockroach glowed in the sunlight that filtered into the room… you were lucky enough to end up with a window at least. Even if the moonlight never did reach far enough into the far corner of the room, leaving your imagination to run rampant in the middle of the night as to what lay within those shadows.

Though, you don’t think your imagination held a light to your reality now.

The room was spinning, you had to keep adjusting your eyes to the disgusting insect in front of you.

You pulled your bedsheet back ever so slightly, your arm broke through the cocoon of blankets you had wrapped yourself in. Slowly you reached your arm out, pointer finger outstretched, and neared the bug. 

You touched it.

Almost immediately the fucking thing scurried, flipped, and chirped over and over again, running rampant all over the floor. Until after what would be an angonizingly long two minutes for the insect, it died.

Each organ shut down one by one, its little body physically unable to function with the amount of pain a single stroke of your finger caused it.

You pulled your arm back into your cocoon and you stared at the dead cockroach.

You don’t remember taking off your gloves last night. That went for the hoodie you always wore to bed… that went for your pants… that went for your underwear.

You also don’t remember drinking anything last night.

But you were hungover.

Your head wouldn’t stop spinning, you felt like you were going to throw up, and everything just fucking hurt. But the general soreness from the hangover didn’t overshadow the burning, throbbing pain that came from between your legs.

Which meant it had happened again.

You felt your eyes watering, burning tears stinging at your tear ducts.

The first time you tried to chalk it up to falling into bad habits again.

Getting black out drunk was no stranger to you. It had always been easier to turn to the bottle than learn how to control your quirk. It dulled your senses, lessened the harm you could inflict, made you forget what it was to be an outcast of society.

It was safer for everyone that way.

But ever since the broker found you, selling you sweet visions of the future. A future you could help fight for by teaming up with the League of Villains. You had fallen hook, line, and sinker. You quit your vices.

But even if you had decided to drink the night away, that didn’t explain the blood and what you could only assume was dried cum that caked the inside of your thighs.

It was even on your face and in your hair.

That’s what had sent you reeling.

No man, woman, animal, or insect could touch you without immediately doubling over to writhe in pain.

So who the fuck managed to put their cock in you.

You had been so caught up in the how that you never stopped to think about the who until now.

You didn’t want to think of the only logical explanation.

One of your comrades was drugging you and raping you in the middle of the night and now that it’s happened twice, there’s no denying it. No more denying what was clearly in front of you no matter how fucking insane or impossible it should have been.

A choked sob clawed at your dry throat.

Joining this ragtag team of villains was the only thing that ever gave you a sense of purpose in your waste of a life. 

You had nothing.

A father that blamed you for your mother’s death. Telling you that all the unending pain you caused her was the reason she put that gun in her mouth. Out on the streets by fifteen, left to mug people with your quirk just to get by. Getting caught by heroes left and right left you with a criminal record. Alcohol had been your only sense of comfort.

You couldn’t leave the League. You can’t go back to that life.

You don’t know how long you laid in bed covered in those dried fluids and waiting for the world to stop spinning, all you knew was that the sun was setting by the time you forced yourself up and your bladder was fucking killing you.

You extracted your naked body from your cocoon, side stepping the dead roach to gather your clothes from last night that were scattered everywhere.

You pulled your thick black hoodie over your head and your black sweatpants up, hiding the blood and cum so that you could properly take care of it in the bathroom. 

You put your gloves on and pulled your hood up and left the room.

~

“She’s alive! No she isn’t!” Was the first thing that greeted you when you had left the bathroom.

”Hey Twice,” you mumbled, trudging past him and to the bar. You sat down.

Sitting hurt.

You barely looked around the room. You didn’t have to see to know that the entirety of the League was hanging out in that bar. These days it seemed you all were just sitting on your asses and twiddling your thumbs, waiting for the opportunity to make a move.

”Would you like a drink?”

You looked up tiredly to Kurogiri who stood behind the bar and shook your head, the amount of sugar in the mocktail you had Kurogiri make for you sometimes would probably make your pounding headache worse, “Water’s fine.”

You folded your arms on the bar counter and buried your face into them.

You didn’t want to be here with any of them right now but going back to your bedroom with those disgusting stains all over your futon also made you sick.

Either way you were trapped.

You didn’t mind the idle chatter from the others though. You could hear Mr. Compress and Spinner talking behind you in the booth. Twice was on the floor with Toga and from the sounds of it was playing around with his quirk and random items from the bar. Kurogiri talked to Shigaraki to your right of the counter and to your left was a normally brooding Dabi.

One of them had raped you.

You heard a ‘clink’ next to your folded arms, and found Kurogiri placing your water in front of you.

”Thanks,” you mumbled, grasping and raising the glass to your dry lips.

You gulped down the water quickly, draining the glass. You were so, extremely dehydrated.

Placing your glass down you looked to the side, only to find Shigaraki staring at you from behind ‘Father’s’ hand.

Shigaraki always fucking stared.

’The fucking virgin just wants to fuck you. Probably wants to see how long he’d last before you make his dick fall off’

That’s what Dabi had told you after watching you shift uncomfortably in your seat under his unwavering gaze your first night there.

You couldn’t deny he was suspect number 1 on your list.

You pulled the drawstrings of your hood, putting your head back down.

”Where were you this morning. We had a meeting.” 

Fuck— now he was talking to you.

”I had a rough morning,” is what you replied with, words muffled by the fabric of your hoodie.

Your heart beat picked up, beginning to hammer in your ribcage as you heard him stand up.

He was moving closer, sitting himself in the seat next to yours.

He had said nothing for a few long beats and the uncomfortable proximity of his body to yours made the hair on the back of your neck stand on end.

”Someone was in your room last night.”  

It felt like the air was knocked out of you. 

You slowly peered up at him through your hood, finding Shigaraki watching in sick satisfaction as if he just caught you red handed.

The accusation hung heavily in the air as you tried to find the words. Was he self admitting? Or did he see something? Did he know who it was?

But he continued before you could respond.

”You told us no one could touch you without your quirk activating but you’re fucking all night and missing meetings in the morning. You lied to us.”

“No—“ you blurted, perhaps slightly too loud. You leaned in closer, “I—I don’t— it’s not my fault,” you panicked, “I don’t know what’s happening— I would never lie to you about something like that, please. The League is all I have.”

He eyed you and the tears that brimmed in your eyes. His scrutinizing gaze unwavering from your face as he decided whether or not to believe your words. 

“Fine,” he muttered.

”Do… do you know who it was?” You asked softly, still not completely sure it still wasn’t him to begin with, but if it wasn’t and he did know…

”You don’t know?” He asked, suddenly starting to scratch at his neck.

”No.” you replied, quickly wiping a tear that fell.

He was about to say something when someone cut in.

”Would you just leave the crybaby alone.”

Dabi.

“I’m not a crybaby,” you muttered, finally leaning away from Shigaraki, barely sparing Dabi a glance. 

Shigaraki started scratching with his other hand now, which meant Kurogiri was near, ready to talk him down from whatever ledge he was currently walking on.

”Yeah, sure,” he remarked sarcastically.

You should just go back to your room. You don’t think you can handle talking to someone else that could possibly be violating you.

Unlike Shigaraki, Dabi barely spared you a glance and rarely talked to you. And although he seemed to be more mentally there than some of your other teammates, you wouldn’t put it past him to hurt you.

He still had a cock after all.

Kurogiri refilled your glass.

”Thanks,” you muttered again, taking a sip.

This was too much. Too suffocating. You needed to be alone even if that meant seeing those stains on your bed.

You stood back up, taking your water with you.

”I’m going back to bed.”

With that, you left the room ignoring the stares and the ‘boos’ that followed after you from Toga for leaving so early.

You’d work with them but for now, they couldn’t be your friends.

Not until you found out which of those fuckers had touched you.

-

You isolated yourself after that.

You went through the motions. You did what you were supposed to. You did the quirk training Shigaraki’s master required of you. You went to the meetings. You tried finding new recruits now and then.

But you stopped hanging out with the others and you only spoke to them if it had to do with business with the League.

Toga and Twice seemed to be the most broken up about it, you had been the closest with those two prior to everything.

But the more you were left with your own thoughts the more everyone became a suspect.

Even Toga. She was a shapeshifter and even if it was unlikely, the fact that she even had the ability to transform into the others set you on edge.

And what if Twice was making clones. You knew he didn’t make clones of himself but what if he made that one exception. Or what if he made a clone of one of the others without them knowing and the clone was the one that raped you and Twice killed it after so not even a real person attacked you and you’re just losing your mind in front of everyone and they have no clue as to why-

‘What if, What if, What if’

You were losing your fucking mind.

You weren’t really even sleeping at night, three hours at most. You were too scared someone was going to sneak in. Whoever it was was clearly somewhat resistant to your quirk and your only line of defense you ever relied on was useless.

But you also refused to leave. You had run from every one of your problems your entire life. You weren’t about to do that here. You needed this— a purpose for your life. Hope for a better future.

You needed a plan.

You needed to figure out who was hurting you. How they were drugging you. How they were touching you.

You had just as much of a right to be here as the rest of them and you weren’t going to be trapped in fear.

You just needed a plan.

~

Dabi sat at the end of the bar, off in his own little world, away from the others and their bonding. Away from their talks about nothing that wouldn’t matter in the end anyway. 

It had been another fucking useless day, just a bunch of “villains” sitting around and hanging out.

His own efforts have proven fruitless, everyone out there was trash and finding new recruits was becoming harder and harder to find with each day.

Cyan eyes glanced at the group, some holding careless smiles and laughing, others brooding in their own little minds as well.

They were all there except you.

You hadn’t around them much these days but slowly and surely you had been coming out of your room more and more again. 

It seemed like you were starting to let your guard down again.

But right now you were busy in that old warehouse the League found for you to quirk train. 

Your training in particular was a cruel affair that he’s had the privilege of sitting in on once or twice.

It was more torture than anything else. Trying to see just how much pain you could inflict on unwitting strangers that had been swept off the streets for that reason and that reason alone.

He couldn’t be sure if you enjoyed it or not. Your face always passive and indecipherable in those moments. But you’d do it anyway. You did whatever ‘ol crusty and his master asked of you.

It pissed him off how willingly you followed after that fucking virgin.

It also pissed him off seeing how much Shigaraki enjoyed that.

Dabi sighed, raising his glass to his lips and taking a swig of the drink.

You’d be back any minute now and you’d be tired, exhausted even.

Maybe you’d want to have a quick drink with the others before heading to bed.

His jaw tensed at the thought and he drained the rest of his glass.

Or maybe you’d go straight to hiding in your room again. Barely sparing a glance or a few words with anyone.

Fuck.

He may have overdone it last time. 

But the sight of you beneath him, his hands spreading your thighs wide open, watching his cock thrusting in and out of your tight little cunt— each barbell pierced into his cock disappearing and reappearing one by one while you babbled whatever came to your inebriated mind, tits jolting with every thrust— it was too much. And Fuck— the way it hurt, every nerve ending a live fucking wire—

”Hey guys,” you mumbled tiredly.

He didn’t even hear the door open.

The others greeted you as he watched you approach them in his peripherals. Some greetings more animated than others, in Toga’s and Twice’s case specifically.

”How was quirk training!?” Toga asked with a toothy grin.

”Fine,” you mumbled, taking a seat at the bar next to Compress.

”Would you like a drink?” Kurogiri asked per routine.

”Yeah, surprise me. Just no alcohol,” you nodded, making Toga cheer, happy to see you spending time with them again. “Don’t get too excited. ‘M not staying up for long, I have more quirk training tomorrow morning so I’m going to bed after this one.”

”Aw boo—,” she grumbled. “No fun.”

”Hey, how’s the gun feel by the way?” Spinner asked.

”Still getting the hang of it, but it feels good. Thanks again.”

”Yeah, no problem.”

The conversation shifted as Twice started telling stories of his more adventurous exploits when he was younger. And there was Shigaraki eye fucking you again.

Dabi watched from the corner of his eye as Kurogiri made your drink.

Weeks had passed since that last time he visited you. Kurogiri had made you only four drinks since then.

And Dabi watched patiently as he poured in each ingredient.

But it was tonight that he used the pineapple juice.

You were the only one in the League that drank the pineapple juice.

He watched him place the glass down in front of you. 

He watched you take a sip.

A grin pulled on the corners of his mouth.

From here on out all he needed to do was wait. And Dabi was nothing if not patient. He had to wait for you to finish the drink, wait to hear you tell everyone you were tired and going to bed, and finally wait as each and every member of the League turned in for the night.

Usually by the time he could sneak into your room you were peacefully asleep. Never expecting Dabi to rouse you from your sleep, surprise taking your features every time.

Tonight was no different.

Just like clockwork you were the first to retreat to your room for the night… but not before draining your glass.

Fuck— he was getting excited.

One by one, each of his comrades decided to call it a night.

First Shigaraki and Kurogiri, then Compress, then Toga, Twice, Spinner…

And that made one.

Dabi cleared his throat, choking back the excited giggle that threatened to escape and climbed to his feet.

It had been too fucking long since he’s been able to indulge like this. With not much else to do these days he had been left with his own imagination and hand for too long.

Like a moth to a flame he found himself at your door, silently pushing it open and slipping inside.

His eyes nearly glowed in the dimly lit room as they landed on your curled up figure, laid peacefully on your futon, fast asleep.

Moonlight was the only thing to illuminate the room.

His cock throbbed, it was painfully hard as it had been for almost an hour now, precum smearing his boxers no doubt.

He palmed himself through his pants as he walked towards your peaceful form, pretty face becoming clearer the closer he got and the more his eyes adjusted to the lighting.

Unceremoniously, he collapsed to the floor, sitting down in front of you, no more than five inches from you. He watched your chest rise and fall with each of your breaths.

Carefully, he picked up a lock of hair and tugged.

You stirred but were far too drugged to wake up from the action.

He dropped the lock, fingertips now reaching for your face— your cheekbone, gently brushing them along your warm skin.

His breath hitched, little electrical shocks started in his fingers and danced up the length of his arm.

”Fuck, got my fucking cock throbbing, crybaby” he panted huskily, “Time to open those pretty eyes of yours now,” he said, giving your shoulder a shake.

“Hmm,” you whined.

”Wake up,” he said again, a harder shake this time.

You blinked your eyes open just slightly, before shutting them again.

You gave a confused hum, “Dabi?” You mumbled.

”That’s right crybaby.”

”What’re—why,” you slurred together.

He pushed your shoulder back— you were so pliant that he was able to effortlessly maneuver you onto your back.

You continued to mumble, trying to make sense in your drug addled mind as to why Dabi was in your room. All the while he was climbing onto the mattress and spreading your thighs as he settled between them. He tugged you down slightly, hooking your legs over his hips and pressing his clothed cock against you.

”Miss me crybaby? I’ve sure missed you,” he grinned, grabbing your gloved hand in his own and guiding it towards the tent in his pants, “See.” He exhaled breathily, using your hand to grasp his cock.

You tried opening your eyes again, waking up a bit more.

”Wha’s happenin’” you murmured, fingers wiggling in his hold as you tried shifting beneath him.

He only hummed, saying nothing as he lifted your hand up. He grasped the middle finger of your glove and pulled.

And just like every other time, your eyes shot open.

”No,” you whined.

”Yes,” he hissed back, pulling your glove completely off and discarding it to the side.

”Can’t touch,” you pulled your hand back and he let you cradle it to your chest. Instead shrugging his jacket off and pulling his shirt off before tossing them with your glove.

”Yes you can,” he grabbed your wrist, placing your hand on his abdomen.

Specifically on the deep purple scars.

Pain radiated from the surface of skin you touched, deep into the tissue. A shockwave of hurt burst from the center of his body, outwards.

His head fell back as a guttural groan clawed its way from his throat.

He ground his cock into you as wave after wave of pain wracked his body.

It was then that your sobs reached his ears.

He dropped your hand but the pain lingered blissfully, though it was dull.

“Fuck.”

The first touch was always the best. 

He grinned as he gazed at your tear stricken face.

”Let’s get you out of this,” he said, tugging your hoodie up.

You struggled but were too weak to stop him, every muscle in your body relaxed from the drugs.

You babbled nonsense, he didn’t even bother to try to make sense of what you were saying, just like every time before. Besides, the blood rushing in his ears was distracting anyway. 

You had no bra on, making his fingers move to the button of your jeans, fumbling with it as he eyed your tits heaving up and down with each of your breaths. He finally yanked them off your legs, along with your panties.

“Why are— does it hurt?” You continued to mumble, “How.”

“Hah—“ A laugh escaped Dabi. Tonight you seemed more concerned about hurting him rather than him stripping you down naked and getting ready to fuck you. “Wanna remember how good I can make you feel?” He asked, fingers now finding your wet cunt, stroking between your folds. That familiar, irresistible pain resumed in his hand as he pet you.

You gasped and wriggled, trying to move up the bed and get away, but the new grip on your hip prevented you from doing so.

Dabi’s head was reeling, pain and pleasure clouded his mind.

You were the only fucking girl that set his nerves ablaze in such a way. If it wasn’t for his vengeance set in a different, higher place he thinks he would never leave the bedroom with you.

Two fingers pressed into your cunt and slid in, making you squeal.

”Dabi no—“ you sobbed, continuing to wriggle in vain. “Why—“

“Shh,” he hushed, “Don’t think, just feel,” his thumb found your clit and rubbed tight little circles into it.

”Stop— I never— I’mma virgin.“

He barked out another laugh.

”You haven’t been a virgin for over a month now crybaby.”

You whimpered and cried, turning your head into your pillow as your voice became higher and higher pitched the longer this went on.

His free hand stroked your body, feeling the curve of your hips and the dip in your waist before gripping your breast. He then dived for the other, latching his lips around your nipple, pain sparking in his lips and tongue and the parts of his chest that brushed against you.

He continued to suck and tug on your nipples as his other hand continued to work you between your legs.

”Why, why, why—“ you cried, “Dabi why.”

”Because you’re mine you fucking idiot— now cum already.” He growled against your breast.

Your back arched as if his voice held any actual authority, and you came. Tears streaking your face with each spasm of your cunt.

When you came back down to earth you were a shivering, sniveling mess.

”See,” he sighed, “That wasn’t so bad now, was it?”

You sniffled, keeping your eyes squeezed shut.

”None of that,” he pulled the hand from between your legs and cupped your face, fingers digging into your cheeks as he smeared your fluids against your face. “No pretending you’re somewhere else. Open your eyes.” You blinked them open slowly, “Good.” He hummed, smacking your cheek lightly and sitting back up.

The pain you inflicted had finally turned into a duller thrum throughout his body. 

Meaning he had to fuck you now for his next fix.

He sucked your sticky wetness from his fingers before undoing his belt then his jeans.

He pulled his cock out, the feeling of it brushing against you making you inch away.

”See that baby?” He grunted, tilting his head back as he stroked his cock and cupped his balls, “You’ve got me so fucking pent up. Makin’ me wait almost an entire month.” He looked back down to you, eyeing you up like an animal. “Ready for my cock crybaby~” he taunted.

The words had fresh tears spilling down your cheeks.

”I’ll take that as a yes.”

He tugged you down by the hips, cock nestling between your folds. He gasped out and jolted at the sensation in his cock. 

There was no separation of the pain and pleasure you inflicted on him. It was one. Indivisible. 

And so much better than anyone else could ever offer.

He gripped his cock and lined it up at your entrance, heart beating rapidly against his ribcage.

His breathing came out hard and laborious, chest rising and falling dramatically as he psyched himself up to push into you.

That initial thrust would have him cumming. It did every time.

Fingers bit into your hips.

“1…” he growled, “2…” he shut his eyes.

”3.” Said the voice behind his ear.

Dabi’s eyes snapped open in time to see the bullet lodge itself between your eyes.

Your dead body turned to sludge, melting beneath him.

His ears rang as the unmistakable feel of a barrel of a gun pressed itself against the back of his head.

You held the gun, standing over Dabi’s kneeling figure.

As the ringing died in both yours and Dabi’s ears, the deafening silence became louder.

Bile crawled up the back of your throat as you looked over his shoulder.

His cock was still hard.

You cocked the gun, the little ‘click’ shattering the silence.

He sighed, shoulders slumping as he pushed his head back, leaning into the gun’s barrel.

”Maybe…” his raspy voice started, “I underestimated you.”

”I could kill you,” you replied coolly, “I should kill you.”

”But you won’t. I’m a pretty big player in all this League of Villains shit and you know that,” he started turning slowly, looking over his shoulder, bathing his profile in a bluish moonlight and illuminating the sick grin he wore, “So what exactly’s the plan then? Huh, crybaby?”

He was taunting you.

You set your jaw tightly and genuinely thought about pulling the trigger.

The nickname made you sick. You thought he was just being an asshole to you in the bar a few weeks ago when he called you that… you wouldn’t have thought it was a twisted little nickname he gave you after assaulting you.

”I want to talk.”

He scoffed, turning around, gazing up at you as he sat leisurely on your futon. He didn’t even bother to tuck his cock back into his pants. “I didn’t come in here to talk.”

”But that’s exactly what’s going to happen asshole or I’m going to tell Shigaraki—“

”He already knows crybaby. He watched.”

You faltered, face completely falling, “He- he what?”

Dabi grinned maliciously at you, “I let him watch last time, especially since you were such a good girl for me the first time I stopped by, taking my cock so well. I figured since he has such a hard time keeping his eyes off you then I’d really give him something to look at.”

“So,” you began shakily, “When he was interrogating me at the bar for missing that meeting—“

”Oh he knew why. He had been jerkin’ it to you the entire night.”

Fuck— tears were starting to collect in your tear ducts.

You blinked quickly in an attempt to hold them back.

You were just so fucking weak. How was it that you found yourself in progressively worse situations your entire life.

Joining these guys was supposed to mean something.

”Why,” you swallowed, gun shaking in your hand, “I thought we were supposed to be teammates.”

”I’d argue that we’re more than that now,” the words felt sinister, making you grow sicker by the second, “Do you want to know what the first thing I thought when the broker introduced you?”

You stayed silent, you didn’t want to play into this little game of his.

”I thought ‘now what cruel motherfucker would make someone that looked like you but wasn’t allowed to be touched’? But then,” he leaned back on his hands, nearly presenting his cock to you, “Once I was balls deep in that tight little virgin cunt, and you were shaking and crying in my arms I realized that you were made for me. I am the only man in this world that can fuck you. Your cunt belongs to me.”

Shit, shit, shit

”Don’t feel too bad though. This isn’t a one way street. I’ve never had pussy that’s made me fucking shake before, and that’s all you crybaby. You’re the only one that can offer me the kind of pain and pleasure that makes me forget about every crappy thing in my life.”

He was getting in your fucking head. 

“You’re insane.” You muttered hoarsely, throat suddenly dry, gun shaking even more in your hands.

”Well, what sane man would want you?”

You don’t know what possessed you, the weeks of anxiety? All the pent up anger he had caused?

Whatever it was, it didn’t matter. You threw the gun across your little room and lunged at Dabi.

He wanted to feel pain? Then you’d show him what actual pain feels like. 

Your inebriated body couldn’t access the full potential of your quirk.

And you hadn’t been quirk training for nothing.

You tackled him to the futon and landed in the muddy remnants of your clone, straddling his waist as you placed both your palms against his bare chest.

Dabi’s hand flew to your wrists as… as a groan left his throat. It wasn’t a scream or a wail, it wasn’t what you expected. And the pinch in his eyebrows was anything but anguish.

His palms were hot but he wasn’t using his quirk to push you away.

You had seen and heard looks of agony and suffering on people more than you’d care to admit, but this was not that.

You pushed against his chest harder, against the deep purple scars and seams of his body, digging your fingers into the stapled flesh and drawing blood.

”Fuck— that’s different,” he groaned out, “Why’s it different.”

”Why aren’t you in more pain,” you snapped, “I’ve made grown men kill themselves after only brushing against my arm just to end their suffering. What the fuck is wrong with you!” You screamed into his face.

He only moaned in response.

Which was when you had realized he had reached down when you weren’t paying attention. He reached between the gap where you had either leg on either side of his body and was fisting his cock. He was jerking himself off while you were hurting him.

A disillusioned laugh escaped your throat, broken and choppy.

This was absurd.

This went against everything you believed about your quirk while growing up.

That your entire identity surrounded the fact that you inflicted pain and everyone and anything would always see you as the villain because of that. You were meant to be avoided and feared, never wanted or desired.

You were losing your goddamned mind.

”You’re a fucking freak,” you suddenly laughed louder at the realization, watching him drag his fist over his cock, the metal barbells of his Jacob’s ladder glinting in the moonlight. “You walk around here all tough and moody, acting like you’re better than everyone else but you’re just as fucking crazy as the rest of them.”

“You’re just as sick,” he choked out with a laugh of his own, “Watching me playing with your clone. You listened to her cry and beg me to stop and you just watched.”

”Shut up,” you hissed. You knew it was wrong, you had promised her you’d stop him before he touched her inappropriately, but when he started you couldn’t bring yourself to end things. 

A twisted part of you wanted to watch and it made you fucking sick.

Just as what you did next made you sick.

You reached down between your legs and grabbed his cock yourself, pushing his own hand away.

He threw his head back, letting out an even louder groan. You could tell this one hurt more than the hand on his chest and it made you smile knowing he was in pain no matter how much pleasure he got from it.

You started jerking him off yourself, listening to his heaving grunts and groans with every stroke of your hand. You paid no mind to the piercings in his cock, if he liked the pain then he could deal with any snagging.

He started tugging on your shirt, pushing it up higher. His hands pawing at your body until one reached your bra, pushing it up to grab your tits.

Your mind felt like it was splitting. You didn’t want him to touch you but you didn’t want to stop him.

But the nail in the coffin was when he tangled a hand in the back of your hair and tugged you down.

He was kissing you.

He tasted like burnt flesh and cigarettes.

His tongue forced itself past your lips and brushed against your own in broad strokes.

You didn’t pull away, you only kissed him back with equal fervor, biting his lips and letting him stick his tongue as far back into your mouth as he wanted to.

You moaned into the kiss, a moan that had been swallowed by his mouth, sending a flutter of excitement in the pit of your stomach.

He broke the kiss. Glowing cyan eyes boring into yours, “Ride me crybaby.”

You sat up, pulling your hoodie over your head and quickly undoing your bra, throwing them to the side as Dabi pulled at your pants.

You smacked his hands away, standing up to work them down your legs yourself before landing on top of him again.

He hissed at the pain as you touched him with a newly exposed body.

You ignored him, grabbing his cock and lining it up at your entrance. You sunk down slowly, adjusting to the size and the feeling of the piercings entering you.

But it wasn’t fast enough for Dabi because he was grabbing at your hips and pulling you down forcefully onto his cock.

You shook and cried out from the pain, collapsing against his chest as you sucked in breath after breath.

But Dabi shook harder from underneath you, pained moans of your name leaving his lips. You watched in curiosity, ignoring your own throbbing pain from between your legs as he started panting, body going slack.

You started laughing, you were pretty sure the fucking freak just came, ”Did you just—?” 

”It’ll get hard again, just start fucking moving,” he grunted, grabbing at your hips.

So you did.

You had no idea what your were doing so you just did whatever felt good, and grinding your clit against his pubic hair felt really good.

The feeling of his cock getting hard inside you again made you dig your fingers into his stapled flesh once more, drawing more blood.

”Shit— ride me better,” he hissed.

”I don’t know how—“

“Shut up,” he spat, holding your hips in a bruising grip as he bent his knees to get some leverage and began to thrust into you from underneath.

“Oh fuck,” you gasped. You had never felt anything like this before.

The next second he was slipping his arms around your back and switching your positions, slipping out of you but you had barely any time to process it as he slammed back into you as he was now hunched over your body.

You yelped at the brutal pace he set, hips pounding against yours. You could feel his balls slapping against your ass and every piercing dragging in and out of you.

Your high pitched, breathy moans mixed with his own deeply pained and pleasured grunts. The sounds of flesh slapping against flesh and all the lewd wet noises that came with every thrust made you blush deeply.

Next he was yanking your leg up, hooking it over his elbow, allowing him to reach deeper inside you.

You threw your head back, “There,” you breathed out.

You were getting close and Dabi could tell by the clenching and unclenching of your cunt. He snaked a hand down and found your clit, rubbing tight circles into it.

“Cum crybaby, show me this cunt belongs to me.”

You fucking hated that nickname. And you hated his entitlement.

You wrapped your hands around his throat, listening to those pained noises that were starting to make your head spin.

He fucked into you even harder.

Everything went white. 

You were cumming and then he was cumming, the two of you shaking in each others arms.

He had slid out with a hiss, collapsing beside you, careful not to touch you.

You stared up at your ceiling, listening to his pants. You turned to look at him.

He really was shaking. 

You reached over and touched his chest, grinning at the now truly pained reaction you got.

He activated his quirk making you hiss and pull away, cradling your now burned hand to your chest.

It was quiet for a few beats.

”Why are you able to touch me?” You finally asked.

”The doctor that put me back together said my pain receptors are fucked.”

”Oh,” that actually… made a lot of sense.

You looked back to him again. Eyeing his profile, following the slope of his nose and the subtle pout of his mouth. You looked at his scars, how the deep purple skin was being held together to his healthy skin by staples. You stared at the swollen seams where the skin was connected.

You were beginning to think he had it wrong.

He was actually made for you.

-

Tear You Apart Prequel (Dabi x Reader x Shigaraki)

Deleted Scene

[lovesick-joey]

Good Job.

"You really went on your own?"

Billy nodded his head vigorously, grinning like a fool even as Batman wiped away the blood off his temple. The older hero shook his head, his stern expression faltering slightly.

"..Get someone to accompany you next time." He grunts, ruffling Billy's hair. "I didn't know you can get hurt.."

Billy scoffs. "You? Don't know? That's impossible!" He exclaims, getting up from the stool he was sitting on. His height nearly towered over the Caped Crusader's. If only I was actually that tall. "But that's besides the point- I've got the whole thing covered! Put those scrawny robots into the spirit realm!"

Batman let out a faint sigh, taking a step back as Billy got back on his feet. "A warning would be nice. It's reckless for you to charge into battle without the others' permission. We haven't even made a plan yet.."

"You have to admit I did pretty good though!" Billy bounced, floating just above the ground. He punches the air. "I defeated all of them on my own! No plans from the rest of the League whatsoever."

As much as Batman disliked the idea of Billy—or anyone on the Justice League for that matter—pursuing a mission without a second opinion, he can't help but smile. He always had a soft spot for the boy, after all. He placed his hand on Billy's shoulder when the false adult returned to stand on solid ground. "You did. You did a good job."

Billy's expression softens, and Batman squeezed his shoulder. "Good job." The man repeated. Then, he looked over at the couches that were set up in the room they were in. Golden Condor sat stiffly, his unmoving eyes transfixed on the both of them, watching.

"Isn't that right, Condor? Don't you think he did a good job?"

Billy knew Batman made the wrong move. Why bother interacting with that jackass?

Golden Condor got up from the couch, but he didn't approach them. Instead, he glared at them from afar. It was mostly directed to Billy, though.

He never liked me, Billy thought. Well, guess what? I never liked you either.

"Don't praise him for doing something normal." Golden Condor spoke in that voice that would always make people grimace. He really needs to drink more water.

It was hard to notice, but Batman's shoulders tensed. "..Normal?" He uttered quizzically. Billy could imagine the look Batman was giving him under that cowl. "You think him going out to fight those robots alone, is normal?"

"It's normal to our standards." Golden Condor crossed his arms, his glare sharpening. "He should be expected to do it and punished if he doesn't."

What the hell, Billy thinks, feeling his heartbeat picking up pace. Batman stiffened. "Don't you dare speak of him that way." The Dark Knight walked over to the obnoxious man with an intimidating stride until the two were a few feet apart. Batman glared up at him. "He put himself in danger to save lives. He should be praised for his initiative, as reckless as it may be. Why can't you tell him he did a good job?"

Golden Condor huffs, looking at Billy, then back at Batman. "Because it's what everyone here does, Batman. It's nothing spectacular- nobody calls us good when we do the things we do. Why should it be any different with him?"

Billy couldn't believe it. Is Condor actually that stupid? It's even more embarrassing that this man is way older than him. A grown man is acting this way.

"And as if," The vigilante continued. "that child has the abilities of the Gods. I've said it before and I'll say it again; he should be expected to do it. He's not putting himself in danger because he's practically invincible."

"Superman has his kryptonite," Batman responded, his voice on edge. "and he's weak to magic. Diana also has her weaknesses and she's a demigod. Everyone on this team has weaknesses—it doesn't matter! You saw the blood on his head! It's still dangerous, Euge- Condor."

Golden Condor took one step closer, his haunting eyes ablaze with barely-concealed ire. "You're just coddling him," He said, his tone rising a little. "he's making you soft. It's pathetic."

Billy swallowed a lump in his throat. For the first time in his life, he was speechless. Batman's eyes narrowed. "I'm treating him with the kindness he deserves, unlike you," He said, jabbing a finger to Golden Condor's chest. The man in turn swatted his hand away. Batman's expression darkened. "you just hate him because he's a kid. I know how you are, Golden Condor."

The tension in the room was palpable. There was a brief intake of breath from Billy. They're going to argue again. They always do. Why does Batman have to go through this?

Golden Condor gritted his teeth. He was practically fuming. His aggression didn't deter Batman, as he continued to face him, his head held high and his chest puffed out.

"You're a fool!" Golden Condor spat at the shorter man's face. "If you keep this up then he's going to grow up thinking he's going to be given everything on a silver platter for doing jack-shit!"

"Just because you've never been praised doesn't mean you can't praise him!" Batman snapped back, unyielding. "Really, that's all that I want you to do; praise him! It's so simple and yet you have to make it difficult! I think he's severely lacking a parent figure who lets him know that he's appreciated—"

Billy's ears blocked out the sounds of their incoherent arguing—he could barely make out the words they were saying to each other. His feet were almost glued to the ground as he watched them, looking at their gestures and their moving mouths. It was a familiar sight with these two.

He could feel ringing in his ears, and Billy averted his eyes to the floor instead.

TGCS ¦ Mr. Hermit ‣ Dragon Eyes

[ghsface]

It's okay to cry. It's okay to not be okay...

Bau team x bau!reader

Sumary: Sometimes I need to remind myself and others that survival doesn’t just mean being okay, it means learning to laugh at what scared us. And if I don’t do it, who else will?

Warnings: mentions of attempted suicide, lots of blood, some dark humor at the end, cuts on arms, bathtub full of blood, no use of t/n (if you don't feel good reading this please don't read it, I also tried to approach this topic with too much care and delicacy and respect, I hope not to offend anyone)

Author's note: September is suicide prevention month. "suicide is a permanent solution to a temporary problem" is something that you always hear people say.. and it's true.

speaking from my personal experience, it's something that was on my mind many months many years ago, and I was able to put those thoughts aside thanks to people who I thought were never going to help me, it was a long and very hard process but now I can tell you that I'm completely fine, once they told me if you have people to write a farewell letter to it's because at least someone cares about you, you may have heard this before but it's true, you will always have someone to support you even if you think you have no one, also once they told me if you ever have these thoughts again or even try again ask for help it doesn't matter who just ask for help, whatever way ask for help, those words marked me almost all of my adolescence tbh and it helped me, I hope that if you are going through this alone, you can talk to me, my messages will always be open for whatever it is help or just talking, feel free to do so, if you read this up to here I really appreciate that you did<333

The BAU team was uneasy. It wasn't often that someone on their team disappeared without a trace, much less you. Emily Prentiss had been the first to notice your absence, as you never missed work without notice. Days ago, you had requested a brief leave for personal matters, but you hadn't returned to the office or answered any calls or messages since. As the days passed, worry turned to fear.

JJ, Spencer, and Emily decided to go to your house, as they could no longer ignore the fact that something wasn't right. The atmosphere in the car was tense. JJ kept his hands tightly on the wheel, while Spencer stared out the window, his mind wandering through thousands of possibilities, each one worse than the last. Emily, in the backseat, checked her phone over and over again, hoping in vain to receive some news from you.

When they arrived at your house, the silence was deathly. The windows were closed, and the door seemed intact, but there was something in the air, something that made them hold their breath. Emily pulled out her gun, and after exchanging a worried look with JJ and Spencer, they decided to go inside.

“anyone home?” JJ shouted as she walked down the hallway to the entrance. There was no response.

Spencer’s heart was pounding as they made their way into the living room. Everything was in order, not a sign of a struggle, but something wasn’t right. Every step they took, every corner they inspected, increased the feeling that something terrible had happened.

It was Emily who first noticed the bathroom door ajar. She approached it slowly, holding her breath, as a dark foreboding took hold of her. Pushing open the door, the scene she found was enough to make her stomach turn.

There you were, in the bathtub, submerged in the red-tinged water. Your arms hung at your sides, covered in deep cuts, blood still slowly flowing from the wounds.

“Oh my God!” JJ exclaimed from the doorway, her voice cracking.

Spencer walked into the room behind her, and for a second, the world seemed to stop. She’d never felt such paralyzing fear, such sharp pain in her chest. The air became thick, almost impossible to breathe.

Emily was the first to react, rushing to you, her hands shaking as she tried to pull your unconscious body out of the water. “Call an ambulance, JJ!” she screamed, trying to stay calm, though her hands were shaking uncontrollably.

Spencer knelt beside you, her eyes flooding with tears. “You can’t do this... you can’t leave us like this,” she whispered, her voice thick with desperation.

JJ tried to call 911, but the desperation in his voice made the words catch in his throat. He finally managed to give the address, but the operator informed him that the ambulance would take a while to arrive due to an accident on the main road. Without wasting any more time, JJ made a decision. “We can’t wait, we have to take her ourselves!”

Without thinking twice, the three of them carried you out of the bathroom, wrapping you in towels to stop the bleeding. Spencer held you, his hands still stained with your blood, as they rushed you to the car.

The trip to the hospital was agony. Every second that passed, every breath you took, or stopped taking, was like a stab in the heart of each of them. Emily, driving at full speed, struggled not to lose concentration while JJ, from the backseat, pressed on your wounds, trying to keep you conscious. Spencer kept talking to you, murmuring words of encouragement, pleading with you not to leave, to stay with them.

Finally, they arrived at the hospital, and the doctors immediately took you into surgery. The BAU team, who had been alerted, arrived soon after. Hotch, Rossi, Morgan, and Garcia joined Emily, JJ, and Spencer in the waiting room. The hours passed slowly, each minute a silent torture as they waited for news from you.

Spencer kept staring at his hands, your words echoing in his mind. He couldn’t shake the image of you, limp and lifeless in that bathtub. He felt helpless, riddled with guilt for not realizing what was happening to you. He loved you, more than he’d ever dared to admit, and the thought of losing you was too painful to bear.

Finally, the doctor emerged from the operating room, his expression grave. “She’s stable for now, but the blood loss was significant. We had to suture multiple wounds and are monitoring for possible nerve damage. It’s a miracle they brought her in on time.”

The relief was palpable, but so was the sadness. They knew that even though you had survived, the battle wasn’t over. They would have to face the reasons why you had gotten to that point, figure out what had happened, and most of all, be there for you, to help you heal.

Spencer walked up to the ICU door, looking at you through the glass. His eyes filled with tears, he rested a hand on the glass. “I’m sorry… I didn’t realize how bad you were,” he whispered, feeling the weight of guilt crushing him.

Emily and JJ accompanied him, each feeling a mix of relief and pain. They knew the road to your recovery would be long and difficult, but they were determined to be by your side every step of the way, no matter what it took.

When you were finally able to open your eyes days later, the first thing you saw were the tired but relieved faces of your teammates. You knew you had plunged into a darkness that seemed insurmountable, but seeing the people who loved you by your side, you knew you wouldn’t be alone on the road back to the light.

The dim glow of the hospital’s fluorescent lights welcomed you back into the conscious world. Your head hurt, and you felt the weight of the blankets on your body, but what caught your attention the most was the soft sound of someone breathing next to you. You slowly turned your head and met the tired, worried eyes of Spencer, who had been watching over you.

“Spencer…” your voice came out as a whisper, rough from lack of use and medication. You were surprised at how weak you felt, as if a large part of you had vanished.

He sat up instantly, his eyes filling with relief at seeing you awake. “You’re awake…” he said in a tone that reflected a mix of joy and pain. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry... If I had known… If I had noticed something…” The weight of his guilt hit you hard. Even though every fiber of your being was exhausted, you couldn’t let Spencer carry that pain. But before you could answer, the door to the room opened, and Emily and JJ rushed in, closely followed by Hotch and Rossi.

Emily approached you, tears in her eyes, but keeping her composure. “You scared the hell out of us,” she said softly, gently taking your hand. “You don’t have to go through this alone, understand? We’re here for you, always.” JJ sat on the other side of the bed, his blue eyes filled with concern. “Whatever you’re going through… you can tell us. You don’t have to carry this alone.”

The room was filled with a heavy silence, everyone waiting for you to say something, anything to help them understand what had brought you to this point. You knew they were worried, that they wanted to help you, but it wasn’t easy to put into words the storm that had been building inside you.

“I’m sorry,” you murmured, your voice breaking, feeling tears build up in your eyes. “I didn’t want them to know… I didn’t want to be a burden.”

Spencer looked at you in pain, his hands shaking slightly as he took yours. “You would never be a burden to us. Never.”

Hotch, who had been watching silently, stepped forward. His voice was firm, but with a tinge of compassion that he rarely showed. “You don’t have to face this alone. Whatever you’re feeling, whatever led you to this, we’re going to be with you every step of the way.”

Hotch’s words, so simple and full of promise, were what finally broke the dam. The tears you’d been holding back for so long began to flow, and with them came a wave of emotions you’d been suppressing: the despair, the loneliness, the pain that had consumed you in silence.

Emily wrapped her arms around you, holding you with a strength that anchored you in the present. “It’s okay to cry. It’s okay to not be okay,” she whispered, her voice shaking with her own pent-up emotions.

For the first time in what seemed like forever, you felt like you could breathe, if only barely. The lump in your chest didn’t go away entirely, but the presence of your peers, your friends, gave you the strength you needed to start talking, to share what you’d been keeping to yourself.

You told them about the pressure you’d felt, the feeling that you were failing, that you couldn’t live up to expectations. You told them how each day had gotten harder to bear, until one day you just couldn’t take it anymore. The words came out in fits and starts, mixed with sobs, but they listened to each one with patience and understanding.

There was no judgment, just support. And as you spoke, little by little, you began to feel the weight that had been weighing you down begin to lighten, if only a little.

When you finally finished, the silence that followed wasn’t awkward. Spencer was still holding your hand, and his gaze reflected both pain and resolve. “You’re not alone in this. You won’t be anymore,” he said firmly.

Hotch nodded. “We’ll have to work together to get through this, but we will. We’ll help you find the support you need, and we’ll be here for you, too.”

Rossi, who had been watching from the back, came over and gently patted you on the shoulder. “Remember, that’s what family is for, to be there in the worst times and the best too.”

At that moment, although you knew the road ahead would be long and difficult, you also knew that you wouldn’t walk it alone. The team weren't just your colleagues, they were your family, and with them by your side, you began to believe that, perhaps, you could find a way to heal.

And although the darkness still lurked, the light of hope, however small, began to shine again.

ONE YEAR LATER...

1 year into recovery brought with it a new version of you, a version that, while still scarred, both physically and emotionally, was fully committed to moving forward with humor and gratitude. You had rejoined the team fully and found a balance between work, your personal life, and your healing process. Your colleagues had learned to appreciate your new style of humor, even when you surprised them with your comments from time to time.

One afternoon, while you were in the office cafeteria with Emily, JJ, and Garcia, you decided to break the silence with a joke, something you had perfected over those past few months.

“Did you know I’ve developed a new skill?” you said, as you poured yourself a coffee. The three womens looked at you curiously. “Now I can say that I’m an expert in abstract art. I just need something sharp and a bad day.”

There was a moment of surprise, but then Emily was the first to laugh, shaking her head. “You know, no one handles dark humor like you.”

JJ nodded, smiling. “True, but at least now we know you do it with complete command of the situation. Although I will never stop being amazed by your ability to make jokes out of something so serious.”

“Well, my traumas, my jokes,” you said with a wink, and the group burst into laughter. They had learned to take your humor as a sign of your progress, a way to remind yourself and them that you were in control, that you wouldn’t let yourself be overcome by the darkness that once trapped you.

Garcia, who until now had been listening in silence, smiled and gave you a gentle nudge. “You know, I think you should consider writing a self-help book: ‘How to survive work and not go crazy. ’ It could be a best-seller.”

“Sure, with special chapters on how to choose something sharp and how not to use them when you have a bad day,” you joked, and everyone laughed again.

Towards the end of the day, as you were gathering your things to head home, you ran into Rossi in the hallway. He looked at you with his typical knowing expression, but with a spark of amusement in his eyes.

“You know, kid I love seeing you make those jokes. It’s a sign that you’re okay, but it’s also a reminder of how far you’ve come.”

You smiled at him, nodding. “Yeah, Dave, I know. Sometimes, I need to remind myself and others that surviving doesn’t just mean being okay, but learning to laugh at what scared us. And if I don’t do it, who else will?”

Rossi let out a soft laugh. “You know, you can always count on me to be your audience. I’m not as good an audience as Spencer, though.”

“Thanks, Dave. I’ll keep that in mind for my next show.”

As you left, you knew you were surrounded by people who understood you, who supported you, and who accepted every part of you, even the darkest ones. But most importantly, you knew you had found a way to move forward: with a smile on your face, a joke on your lips, and a team that, no matter what, would always be by your side.

And as you walked out the door, ready to face whatever came next, you couldn’t help but make one last comment to yourself. “Well, if I survived the bathtub, I’m ready for anything. I just hope there’s more wine and less blood next time.”

your reblogs and replies are always appreciated dearly🫧

[skullytotheark]

[design drawn by Peachy-cloudds]

My Personal headcanons for The Operator / Slenderman

[warning: a SHIT tone of writing almost sorry not actually]

The Main inspirtation is by the concept of a hivemind plantlike entity, Has this concept been done before for Slender. Yea, Am I still gonna use it? Yea 🤭 [i love eldritch plant beings they're so cool]

-

In World Lore:

An extremely long time ago, A being of unknown origin manifested into the world, Simply appearing out of the blue. Being able to exist on all four layers of existence with no consequence for it's actions. Originally said to be an old folk tale elders would tell to children to scare them, The Operator, although known across the world as multiple names, Some extremely fitting while others were uncreative / unoriginal. The entity within the tale would maintain the same behavior in every culture that was made aware of it. Often stalking heavily wooded areas attempting to lure those who were unexpecting into the forest where it will stalk it's prey until they barely escape or become it's next meal. However even escape was never the last one would see the Operator. As it continued to stalk those who saw it relentlessly until it grows tired of the same torment. Or It claims another life. The operator was once said to be in many books recording folklore; however the pages and stories of encounters with it have simply been erased from existence. As if it tears the pages out itself. Wanting to remain within the darkness where it can watch and wait for those who are unaware.

-

Headcanons:

Spiders tend to make small nests in the small holes that are on slender’s body, These spiders due to long exposure can give you the drowning if they bite you

The Spiral in the center of Slender’s face can hypnotize it’s victims. In my canon it’s how Slender gains most of it’s proxies

The reason Slender can disturb cameras and cause them to break is because of the electric frequency it admits. Similar to how fungi also admit Electric frequencies and is also source of the strange staticy hiss that tends to admit and follow Slender around

Slenderman is just a fae of sorts [which is just a fancy way of saying fairies], The type of fae that typically kidnap children and eat them. In my HC I kinda like to think that it is considered to be one of the first mythical forest spirits [also implying that Slender is old as balls]

-

The Drowning / Slendersickness:

The drowning is a form of “Sickness” one can get when being exposed to the entity known as “The Operator” for a long period of time. It gets its name due to the feeling of choking on water and lack of air in your lungs

Normally you’d have to be in contact or near the Operator to contact the drowning however if one is sick with the drowning the drowning can be easily passed onto you with or without knowing it. Another way to get it is if you are marked by the Operator which can give you Stage 2 Of the drowning within the matter of seconds. The sickness originates from Spores that come from The Operator which are a lesser version of the Operator's final stage "The Tower ''. The following symptoms include Violent coughing [to the point of blood], Vomiting, Violent hallucinations, Trouble breathing, Seizures, Violent outbursts / episodes and dissociating. To summarize it, A Lot of the time Sickness slowly but surely eats away at your humanity until you are but a husk of your former self, Causing you to become aggressive and violent towards others. The Operator then feeds off of the conflict and uses it to make it stronger

-

[Hoody / Brian in the Ark As seen in Entry# 83 At 6:30]

The Ark:

In Later years The Operator managed to make it’s own personal realm, Made to store the souls of those it has killed [or by proxy] and to drive those who enter it insane. Playing hallucinations that are personal to everyone who enters until they either die or find an exit [which is nearly impossible]. The realm as mentioned stores souls of it that have been killed that are being fed on by whatever lies in the pit that resides within the middle of the Ark, These dead victims are often in a paralyzed state where they are unable to move or speak as they slowly but surely melt into the surface of the Ark slowly becoming apart of it. However The Broken are basically souls that the "Ark" isn't able to feed off of since they are impure, Of course the broken are basically just victims of the Operator that have cracks on their body like fragile glass in a way. These souls and bodies are also often use as infinite battery packs for the Operator, Feeding off of the souls makes them more Powerful, The More souls there are the more of a threat it can become

-

[Example image I drew to help explain it kinda]

The Hivemind

The Operator has more than one variant that all act as a single hive mind sharing the same exact thoughts. The following examples are The Tower, The Drones and Hallucination

The Tower: The Tower is the main source of the hivemind, These variants are basically the "Queen Bees" that pop out smaller versions of themselves to scout for food and return it to the Nest. Towers often borrow themselves deep underground where they cannot be touched, often growing extremely giant, For example they can grow to the size of the statue of liberty before stopping. Their tentacles can connect to the roots of trees which allows them to shift the forest at their command, It's also worth noting that the hivemind all share the same thoughts

Drones: The drones are basically mini clones of the hivemind that are produced so the tower doesn't have to expose itself to the outside world and get injured or killed, Their goal is to collect food until the Tower is ready to bloom. But a lot of the time these drones will hypnotize people into doing their biddings for them which is considered to be the norm nowadays. It's also less stress for the drones incase they do not wish to be discovered by the outside world. Drones can also eventually grow into Towers if they live long enough

Hallucinations: These are as you expect, They're the dones way of messing with your head by haunting you and breaking you mentality. They often appear in hallucinations and aren't the actual drones themselves, The main way to tell the difference between a drone and a hallucination is by the color of their tie. Red means that they are physically there attacking you while black means it's not real

-

[lazy doodle by me]

The great blooming / The arrival:

this event is pretty straight forward. So the main reason these towers need to collect so much food and souls is so that they can bloom, Their heads unraveling to reveal a black rose that shoots out a giant cloud of spores that will infect those whoever breathes the spores in. These spores have the regular side effects such as the drowning, However those who are infected with the Tower's Spores are a ticking time bomb waiting to go off. If one is infected long enough their heads will implode into a flower and spread more spores around them

-

[rustedleopard]

I'm so glad you brought up this topic, because I'm studying to be a doctor and I'm very interested in seeing the difference between human and monster biology!юз

Starting from the fact that if Clover had stayed in the dungeon, he probably would not have been able to tell his friends what he needs for life and what he has because he is a child. I can't even imagine the outgrowth of faces and shock at Starlo, Ceroba, and Martlet when, during a dinner together, Clover abruptly stops eating and puts his fingers in his mouth and pulls out a baby tooth, while smiling innocently. Although Clover is lucky, because monster food does not cause allergies.

(if you want to talk about biology, I'll be happy to listen to you!)

While I headcanon that Clover is old enough that they're no longer losing baby teeth, that would still freak their friends out. Because they're bleeding??? But they pulled out their own tooth so casually??? They insist it doesn't hurt but there's still so much blood. And what are they supposed to do with this molar that they have lying around now? What's a tooth fairy? I thought there weren't any monsters left on the Surface? Why does a monster want your teeth???

(Though maybe monsters do lose their baby teeth? It'd probably depend on the type of monster that they are though, because a bird-monster like Martlet doesn't have any teeth so she wouldn't know what's going on.)

I have SO many headcanons on the differences between human and monster biology/physiology that I could fill a novel. I could (and have, over discord w/ a friend) spoken for hours about them. This is a very broad subject that can be explored from so many different angles. Buuuuuut, let's just go with the baseline for this stuff:

One of the biggest differences between humans and monsters is that humans are made of physical matter (like water, blood, organs) while monster bodies appear to be projections of their SOULs combined with dust and magic. That composition makes monsters more resilient to physical matter because their existence isn't so grounded in physical laws and their magic sorta just... bends those laws into operating on cartoon logic. Monsters can do things like suplex boulders and swim in lava and survive in environments with low oxygen and frigid environments as well, things that are either impossible or downright dangerous for a human (though some of this is tied to the type of monster they are. I can't see an ice-type monster fairing well in a lava bath, for example. The types of impossible feats that a monster can pull off also depends on what type of monster they are).

For example: Since I headcanon that Starlo is part fire-monster on his dad's side, if Starlo brought Clover to some hot springs, he'd be chilling in boiling water and be all like "C'mon in, Clover! The temperature is just great! 😃" And Clover would be staring at him in disbelief because... It's boiling water. They will die horribly if they jump in. No way in hell they're sticking so much as a toe in there. (Don't worry, Ceroba and Martlet are used to far more reasonable temperatures and would be like "No. Clover is not going in there. That'll kill them." Ceroba has demonstrated that she's pretty heat resistant though, so I imagine that she'd be in a hot spring that still registers as too warm for a human. Meanwhile Martlet, who lives in Snowdin and has all of these insulating feathers, can tolerate a jacuzzi at best. So it's just the bird and the deputy chilling in their jacuzzi-temperature hot spring together while also going "Wow, our friends are insane for opting to be boiled alive.")

While monsters can handle physical things very well because of their magical physiology, they are VERY vulnerable to emotional matters. Their greatest strength is also their greatest weakness. If a human attacks with the intent to kill, and that killing intent is stronger than their desire to live, that monster is just. Dead. No matter what. (And humans like Frisk can get Determined enough that they basically break reality, so monsters don't stand a chance unless they pull off a DT transformation à la Undyne or Martlet.) Whereas monsters Fall Down if they lose the will to keep going, a person who is severely depressed won't die from being depressed alone. The human's physicality prevents them from dying so easily because they're grounded in physical processes that will keep happening without their input. You can't control your heart beating, it's going to keep doing that whether you want it to or not. A human's body shields/protects them, in a way, that a monster's can't, because all a monster has is their own willpower to rely on.

To their monster friends, Clover would be a very weird kid. Delicate in some ways but exceptionally powerful in others. Clover may not be able to lift up boulders like Ed, but if they so willed it, they could beat Ed in an arm wrestling contest because it's not a matter of strength. It's about willpower. They could snap all of their friends' bones with their hands like twigs, but they struggle to lift their crates of corn when they're working at the Sunnyside farm (at least in the beginning, before they're used to hard labor). I feel like if they lived with their friends, Clover has to learn to restrain themself because if they let themself get careless, they risk hurting them. (Of course Clover would be horrified if they did (if we're looking at Pacifist Clover), that's their friends, they don't want to hurt them. But there's a learning curve to these things and if they're not conscientious then things can go wrong for everyone involved).

And now, a quick list of headcanons (though this isn't even like. A quarter of them, lol):

Monsters cannot remove their SOULs from their bodies like humans can. That'd basically be the equivalent of ripping out their own beating heart, it'd be terrifying. Monsters find humans really strange for that trait yet also find their SOULs exceptionally beautiful.

Monster bodies aren't nearly as heavy/dense as human bodies, because they're not made of as much physical matter (just dust, some water, and perhaps some trace elements). To Clover's friends, they feel very heavy for their size.

Monsters have a passive empathy ability where they're able to perceive the emotions of others, depending on how strongly they're feeling it (thank you Soul Dichromatism for that headcanon). Humans do not possess this ability, obviously, because their physical bodies shield their SOULs (though they gain this empathy ability somewhat when their SOULs are outside of their body, such as when challenged to a fight/upon death. It can be overwhelming and makes the human feel exposed. Despite this, magical attacks still hurt, no matter the feelings/intentions of the caster).

Because humans are so physical, that also shields how they're feeling from other monsters unless those feelings are strong. To a monster, humans feel weird. It's like encountering a person-shaped void with only the occasional flicker of some emotion from them, whereas everyone else is giving off lots of feelings all the time. That's why monsters attack humans: they're curious. They're trying to say hi. They're wondering what's up with this person-shaped void.

Monsters don't have organs like humans do. They'd find the idea of them weird and gross. "What do you mean you just... have worms inside you that squirm around all the time? They're called 'intestines'? What the??? Does it hurt?" The concept of stuff like blood/organ donation would either fascinate ("Wow, you guys can share/support each other. That's so cool, monsters can't do that! Humans can be so friendly to each other!") or disgust them (They imagine a situation like those chimeras from Mother 3 or some sort of horror show).

Monsters don't get diseases either. They can get stuff like sore throats from speaking too much, heat stroke from overheating, poisoning from ingesting poison, etc. But viruses? Bacteria? Parasites? Not familiar with them. Clover catches something like the flu and their poor friends are terrified and confused because they're in pain and exhausted but their friends don't know why. Are they Falling Down? Can humans Fall Down? Oh god, what do we do? And they try to cheer them up and sorta just... give them reasons to live and keep going. "You can't give up now!" "Who else can I trust to be my deputy?!" "Please, live." Poor Clover has to break it to their friends that they're not dying (even though they feel like it) and explain how disease works while also hacking their lungs out and nursing a fever. Luckily they know how to take care of themself, but still...

Monsters can't sustain themselves off human food and vice versa. Monster food heals wounds in both humans and monsters (injuries caused by magic heal without a scar whereas injuries caused by physical objects heal with a scar) and gives a quick burst of energy, but it doesn't have vital nutrients like vitamins and minerals and carbs and fats that a human needs to live. Human food, meanwhile, feels very dense to a monster, is extremely flavorful, and doesn't provide the magic they need to sustain themselves. They can eat it and swallow it, but it's like the equivalent of eating rocks or wood: they can't absorb the nutrients from it because their bodies aren't meant to really digest it. There's also the matter of it having to come out... That's an experience. Eventually, their bodies can adapt to eating it and it stops causing stomach aches, though their portions are always gonna be a bit small. As for how Chara survived Underground? Uh, snail pie made from real snails and lots of it! (I do ignore this headcanon in any instance of Clover living in the Underground with their friends because I don't want to explore the story of "Clover starves to death/dies from nutritional deficiencies while their friends are forced to watch without being able to comprehend why they're dying." But if Clover is living on the Surface where they can access human food, yup. They're gonna have to eat human food.)

I could say more but at this point this post is getting pretty damn long. For the most part, I have humans and monsters operate differently from each other in ways that feel alien to the other party. It would be so easy to just focus on those differences and go "See how humans/monsters work? They're too different from us monsters/humans! Look at how disgusting they are for having XYZ habit/way of working!" and utterly dehumanize the other side based on those. But at their cores, both humans and monsters are emotional and intelligent beings that deserve love and affection. They're not so different from each other if you're casting aside biology/physiology.

Fun question! Really scratches that headcanon itch.

[roseride01-blog]

Brothers

The war is over. Sokka has a realization.

Aang and Zuko were his brothers in all but blood, Sokka realized one day. 

It kind of came out of nowhere, one minute he was sharpening his boomerang, then the next, he was staring at the Avatar and the new Fire Lord, practicing fire bending together in the courtyard of the Fire Nation palace.

The look of joy on Aang’s face whenever he fire bent, or bent any element for that matter, the look of quiet pride on Zuko’s face when he watched, student and teacher, both in some sort of spirit harmony or something Aang or Iroh would say. 

But it was the feeling Sokka got when watching them that made him realize this. He felt himself sharing the the pride and joy. Joy at watching two people he loved doing something together, happy and alive (Sokka still had a hard time looking at the scar on Aang’s back, and the bandages hadn’t come off over Zuko’s abdomen. Sokka feel his throat constrict with gratitude because it’s because of Zuko’s sacrifice that Katara is alive to tell him he can get out of bed, but absolutely no training, he was only allowed to coach Aang from the sidelines). 

Aang had become a little brother to him, an incredibly powerful and wise little brother, but still hung on to his childish innocence. Aang was a bright spot in Sokka’s life, someone he didn’t have to keep up a protective pretense around, because Aang could take care of himself. 

He never would never have imagined Crown Prince Zuko of the Fire Nation would become like an older brother to him, but there are so many things that the whole group had accomplished in the last few weeks that would never have been possible without him, his skills, courage or loyalty. So many people close to Sokka would be dead, maybe even himself. He found that as much as he didn’t want to admit it, he had become reliant on Zuko, and the newly crowned monarch had yet to let him down. 

It was only a moment later that another realization hit Sokka, one that made him stop short in his sharpening motions. Something he had never really thought about before. 

In the Water Tribe, family was everything. Family was everything because family was the equivalent of safety. Sokka, while keeping Katara safe, knew she would do the same for him, as would his dad, Bato, and even Gran-Gran. They had each other’s backs, and that was an undeniable fact. 

Aang never even knew his parents. He had told him such, but it never seemed to bother the young air bender. He seemed content with regarding the monks who raised him as his family, wether they were bonded by blood or not. This concept had not changed 100 years later as he unabashedly considered his bending masters, and Sokka, as his family. Aang’s definition of “family,” was not bound by blood, but by action and by love. 

Sokka knew this to be true for Zuko as well, but for an entirely different, and devastating reason.Home, to Sokka, was the one place he knew he would always be safe. His father loved and cared for him, and the love was unconditional. 

Not only was Ozai’s love conditional, those conditions were also almost impossible to meet. Even Azula, a fire  bending prodigy, never really had his love, only his acceptance. 

The one person who was supposed to love Zuko unconditionally, his father, is the one who had hurt him the most. 

Sokka understands Toph a little bit better now, too, through Zuko— to them, family isn’t bound by lineage. Family is where you are understood and accepted, and where you are loved. 

For Zuko, home, family, never meant safety. 

So that moment, the courtyard lit with the late afternoon sun, Sokka came to his third realization, a resolution. 

As Toph said some comment about how Aang’s heartbeat sped up when Katara and Iroh walked out with cold drinks, Katara scoffing at Toph’s comment while Aang turned crimson, and Zuko chastised Toph for distracting him, and Suki laughed, Sokka realized that this was family; himself and Katara, actual siblings, and everyone else who had his protection— because Sokka knew he would do anything to protect the people he cares about. 

“Sokka?” Aang’s voice pulled Sokka back to reality, “Sokka, are you alright?!?”

“Huh?” Sokka hadn’t noticed it before, but as he registered the wetness on his cheeks, he realized he had been crying. 

He met Aang’s eyes, the gray overflowing with concern, and then met Zuko’s, standing next to Aang, gold radiating quiet worry, and abruptly stood up. He crossed the limited space between himself and the other two boys in record speed, before crashing into the two. arms wrapping around Aang’s shoulders and Zuko’s waist. 

It was silent as Sokka just held them to him, his family, his brothers. 

[one-idea]

I love your wado ichimoji pov posts! Your only in whisky peak and show devotion well in an inanimate object well "my dumass son" (affectionately) *less than 2 weeks after starting to travel with others, the captain still believes after them losing badly*: I have 2 to protect now my son and a little king. What I'm really looking forward to 1. resignation at some point is that Sandai Kitetsu is going to continue to be here 2. the treasure trove of Timeskip on Mihawk's creepy would produce 3. sibling time with enma (Christ they have been made by the same person but wados going to be the only voice of reason between the 3).

Thank you so much!!! Sorry this took me a hot minute to respond to.

I really love that au and I want to work on it more.

As I am only in Thriller Bark I can’t speak in earnest about all of your ideas (yet) but I can hit one.

1. Wado excepting that Sandai Kitsune is here to stay.

They come to a begrudging understanding at the end of Whiskey Peak. Wado still doesn’t like Sandai and hopes Zoro gets ride of it, but at least Sandai has respect for the captain now.

It’s Alabaster where Zoro learns to cut steal when the two finally start to have a smidgen of respect for each other. After all Zoro uses all three blades to cut steal, if Sandai was truly a weak blade she would have broken by now.

Through Jaya and Skypia all three blades are focused on protecting Captain and crew. Gaining respect for some of the other crewmates (namely Robin) though throughout it all Wado is still waiting for Zoro to find a better sword.

It isn’t until Water 7 and Enies Lobby. When all three blades are in unity fighting to save one of their own. Because their King and Master wants the Archaeologist back. Because the King has lead them to an incredible fight, a test of their Skills. Because their King keeps asking them to do the impossible with total confidence that they can, they won’t let him down. (The sea train is going to be fun)

It isn’t until Yabashiri is destroyed that Wado realizes she wasn’t ready to lose either companion.

It’s been so long since she had traveled with companions who had voices. These were the first blades Zoro had, besides her, that had distinguishable voices. To hear one of those go out rattles both Wado and Sandai.

The rust man could have grabbed any of them but he grabbed Yabashiri. Her voice was gone. It takes sometime for both Wado and Sandai to come to terms with that.

While Wado is still annoyed with Sandai and her violent tendencies, she’s mellowed under Zoro’s care. Her bloodthirsty now matches his own. And while she does occasionally cry out for blood, it’s normally because of a threat to King or crew. She no longer calls for the blood of just anyone, only outside threats. Problem is those threats haven’t always attacked them yet. (Sandai’s more of a if we kill it before it can attack it can’t hurt them, sort of protector)

Wado and her still butt heads, but Sandai made it this far as a Grade blade, she’s not going anywhere soon.

Once in Thriller Bark, once they gain Shushi, another one of the 21 Great grade blades, a fully realized black blade, and Wado’s sibling to boot. Things get shaken up again.

Where Wado is motherly and protective of her dumb son’s dreams and loved ones. Aligned with Zoro in dream and crew, knowing him the longest and living up his values.

And Kitsune is Zoro’s bloodthirstiness. His violence but also protective fury. Zoro changed her from pure bloodshed to reflect his own violence. She reflects his more aggressive side.

Yabashiri was quite. One to follow Wado’s lead but still had its own personality. In that offered caution. She reflects Zoro’s observation. The ability to tell what is and isn’t a threat and when to act.

Shushi is different. Shushi already had a master take it to the full extent of its power. He is stronger and more durable. Increasing Zoro’s strength and forcing the others to rise to his level. Zoro cannot take this blade farther, rather he must rise to meet its strength and durability. Harding himself and his other blades to become the strong unbreakable protector of the crew.

Wado and Sandai are not (yet) black blades they can still grow and rise with Zoro’s power. Shushi is both a greatly needed boost and a challenge to rise to. He often thinks back on his prior master and compares Zoro to him. (He is quite pleased to be wielded by a descendent of his beloved Shimotsuki Ryuma)

Once I get to Zoro training with Mihawk I’ll talk more about them. But it’s going to be really fun to write all three swords interacting with Yoru. But it’s also going to be hard on Wado. Up until then Zoro favored her as his one sword style blade. But after his time with Mihawk it switches to Shushi. A stronger more durable blade. While the switch makes sense, I’m sure it was a hard transition for both Wado and Zoro. And I’m excited to write on it.

I am so excited to get to Wado and get Enma. It’s a needed change for Zoro to push forward. While Enma has great power on its own, it’s not yet a permanent black blade. There is still room to grow and strengthen along side Zoro. Shushi couldn’t grown anymore. Zoro had mastered it, he rose to the challenge and surpassed it. Now he needs to bring his own blades to the top.

(I really hope one of his blades becomes permanently black by the end of the show. I want it to be Wado)

Right now I’m in Thriller Bark, but the platform im watching on only has the show up to Marineford/ASL adventures so once I get through all of that, I will either rewatch all pre-time skip and start writing my Wado Ichimoji POV au and Reverse Strawhats while I wait for the platform to put up more episodes or I’ll crack and get a new subscription to watch post time skip. Only time will tell.

[rose-of-oz]

𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐃𝐔𝐂𝐈𝐍𝐆… 𝐌𝐘 𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐏𝐈𝐄𝐂𝐄 𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐋 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑, 𝐘𝐀𝐌𝐈 𝐂𝐎𝐑𝐕𝐎

❝ Yami Corvo had lived their entire life surrounded by blood. They had come into the world soaked in their mother’s; they had had it wiped off of them with a warm cloth as a child, after skinning their knees or getting into a fight with other kids. But it wasn’t until they had stumbled across a Devil Fruit as a child and eaten it, gaining the power to manipulate the blood in their own veins and form it into weapons, that the blood that surrounded them had become dirty and tainted. After eating that Devil Fruit, Corvo had become little more than a monster to those around them, even their own parents - they had been taunted, attacked, told that they were nothing but a beast who was only good for killing, until they had even come to believe it themself and run away from the town where they had been born and raised, determined to escape the cruelty of those around them and resigned to becoming a cruel individual themself.

And so they had. Over the years, Corvo had become one of the most feared names in all four Blues, an assassin with a terrifying power who would slaughter whoever they were paid to slaughter and showed no mercy for anyone, the type of person children would use to scare their younger siblings by telling them stories about how the beast lurked under their bed. Not that they wanted to be, deep down, but they had been taught that it was who they were supposed to be, and who were they to doubt those who had told them that for years? So they kept killing, kept fulfilling what they thought was their destiny, hating themself more and more with every job until they were secretly praying that someone would fight back and finally kill them so that they could be put out of their misery… until they were approached with the impossible task of killing Dracule Mihawk, one of Seven Warlords of the Seas.

They had failed, of course - they doubted there were very many people who could possibly kill the world’s greatest swordsman. But Mihawk had also seen something in them as they lay on that beach with his blade at their throat, waiting for the death they had wanted for years, something that made him spare their life and offer them a life travelling with him, causing chaos all over the East Blue and occasionally carrying out the Marines’ dirty work. Corvo would never be able to properly tell anyone why they’d accepted his offer - maybe it was to make him suffer their company as revenge for not killing them the way they’d wanted, more than likely it was because they were desperate for companionship after so many years alone - but they had, and ever since they have travelled the Blues with him, getting into fights and doing the bidding of the Marines where necessary, forming a dangerous duo that has developed a reputation even more infamous than Corvo’s previous one.

And then Mihawk introduces them to Shanks, a pirate captain with ties to the young upstart whose first mate Mihawk has just recently beaten in battle. Shanks, who is bright, jovial, and unfailingly compassionate… and who seems to want to direct his beautiful attention onto Corvo, to spend time with them, no matter how much they don’t deserve it.

The more time they spend in the company of Shanks and his band of Red Hair Pirates, the more light Corvo finds making its way into their world that has been so dark for so long. And the closer they get to Shanks, the more they can feel the gentle, calm waters of his soul washing away the blood that has always stained their own - and no matter how much they’re certain they don’t deserve it, they want nothing more than to let this beautiful, smiling pirate captain break down their walls and wash the blood away completely. ❞

One Piece Taglist: @auxiliarydetective, @starcrossedjedis, @xoteajays, @oneirataxia-girl, @supermarine-silvally.

General Taglist: @hiddenqveendom, @foxesandmagic, @artemisocs, @reyofluke-ocs, @endless-oc-creations, @stanshollaand, @ginevrastilinski-ocs, @luucypevensie, @ginger-grimm, @arrthurpendragon, @fakedatings, @impales, @claryxjackson, @dancingsunflowers-ocs, @eddysocs, @lucys-chen, @ocappreciationtag.

[tempestaslokni]

The Chaos After the Storm

ft. Darcy and Akhila below the cut: Location: The Medcenter

Waking up had never been a bad experience for Lokni, he was more naturally inclined towards being an early-riser. This time, however, was much different. His whole body ached, like he had spent an entire workday of just unloading and reloading hay trucks. His mouth was so dry, like he hadn't drank anything for days. Although sunlight was streaming in through the window, he felt as if he had hardly rested at all, like his body was still on the edge of sleep.

Blearily he shifted his gaze over his surroundings. Lokni recognized the white, sterile roof, as well as the lights that seemed a little too bright, no warmth in that light. He was in the med center. Again.

But why?

His vision came to settle on a fuzzy figure that slowly came into focus. It was Darcy. The memories all began to trickle back, like a crack in a dam, before beginning to pour into his mind. Trying to sit up, he began to speak, his voice rough, and betraying just how exhausted he was. "Why am I here? What happened?" Lokni said, clutching his head as his own voice echoed uncomfortably within his skull. There was someone else there… "Akhila?" Although his vision was still blurry, he could tell by her silhouette, her short hair framing her angular face and features. It would have made sense to anyone, but in that moment, Lokni wasn't quite all there.

As he sat up, all of his muscles groaned in protest, and eventually he gave up, letting his back slam into the metal bars of the cot, which echoed metallically. He didn't even have the energy to make any sound of discomfort. Parched he began slowly, his breath like claws raking over his raw throat, "could I have some water, please?"

Darcy's legs were moving in a speedy, up and down movement, but she didn't even realize it. She was exhausted, could probably fall asleep in a moment if she really allowed herself (which was already something unusual for her), but she didn't even register it (also didn't let Akhila take a look at her either, she was fine, she was always just fine). She was sitting curled up on a chair, watching Lokni, telling herself that he'd wake up. That it was the lightning, the stress of maybe starting to realize that things were so strange around here and they were real, the stress of missing his mom and his life and all of it coming to the surface. Her pushing it all to the surface.

Lokni needed to wake up. He just needed to. Darcy couldn't handle one more person…

But no, this was different. This had to be different.

After what felt like a lifetime, Lokni shifted and his eyes fluttered open and Darcy felt like a whole mountain rolled off of her shoulders. "Akhila, he's waking up!" she called out to the other woman who just momentarily stepped out of the room, and then scrambled up from the chair, going over to Lokni, "Hey, it's okay, you're okay. Well, I'm not actually educated enough to make that assessment, but you're in good hands. You're in the medicenter, Akhila is making sure you're all good."

Her hands hovered near him as he sat up, but he didn't need help - or more like Darcy wasn't sure if he wanted hers after what happened. She looked over at Akhila for a moment and then stepped back. "I'll get you the water, Akhila can check you out."

There was a growing pattern regarding those who were bouncing back to the centre. Akhila knew there was far more chance of it being coincidental. That being said, Akhila felt an unnatural bloom of worry as Darcy appeared with a slumped over Lokni. There was a definitive difference between him, and the others that erred towards hypochondriacs. No less that he was unresponsive and Darcy looked impossibly more strained than usual. Akhila hadn’t left either of them, she’d hovered over him, triple checking his airways. It was certainly one thing for her to make educated guesses, but another for him to return to her catatonic.

It was an unfathomable puzzle because his blood oxygen levels were reading normal. Akhila hovered over him, deliberating whether to wheel out another canister—did they even have another? He was breathing without assistance, but there was a raw edge. His heart rate was well within normal ranges. Yet he was entirely unresponsive. Akhila came to the conclusion it was better to be safe than sorry, she could quickly fetch oxygen whilst Darcy lingered like an omen in a bedside armchair. She told her as much, and took approximately seven long strides out of the room before Darcy called for her.

She flew back. Darcy had sprung up, and had now taken up the mantle of leaning over him. “There’s cups and a dispenser in the reception area.” Akhila informed her. Moving to take up the space beside Lokni’s bed, she clipped the oxygen monitor back onto his finger. “You’re back again.” She’d meant it in jest, but the joke landed flat with her starched delivery. Akhila swiftly moved back to stern as he attempted a leap of freedom. “Take it easy…” She pressed the back of her hand lightly to his forehead, and exhaled noisily through her nose. “Darcy is fetching you water. Lokni do you know where you are?” Start simple, now he was awake the ragged peaks of his breathing were glaringly evident. She’d have to send Darcy to fetch the oxygen too.

Darcy’s voice reverberated throughout his skull as she called for Akhila. Her next words came out like a waterfall, too fast for Lokni to be able to put together in his current state. Akhila was there, checking over him, the friendly gaze that he had come to know from their time fishing together replaced with the one of a professional in their element. Under normal circumstances, he would have been nervous, but at this point he was too exhausted to do much aside of focusing on breathing and staying awake. The exhaustion clung to him like the clutch of winter’s chill, sinking deep into his bones, making his joints ache in ways that he hadn’t felt in years.

Even as his vision swam in and out of focus, he knew Akhila’s voice, recognized what she was asking, “I’m- I’m in the medcenter. Again,” a weak nod of the head in acknowledgment followed, “sorry for the trouble,” he mumbled, his own breath painful against his raw throat and tongue slow like a drunkard’s. There he was, causing her more problems. He was fine, really, he just needed some sleep- his head bobbed as he nearly went back under, but the sound of Akhila giving orders to Darcy brought him back from the edge of sleep.

When Darcy came back with a cup of water he drank deeply, breathing loudly through his nose like he had done as a kid coming in after a summer’s day of playing outside. It felt as if he hadn’t drank anything in days, as if the moisture in his body was expended. When he downed the cup, he turned to Darcy, wiping his chin, “thank you… how did I end up here?”

Darcy has brought Lokni to Akhila for a reason, and yet once Lokni woke up, all Darcy wanted to do was hover and do something even though she was fairly incompetent, she was aware of it.

So she forced herself to step back, spring into action and went to get the water for Lokni, arriving back with a big cup of it just in time to hear Akhila mention that Lokni was here again. The worry spiked even though this was a whole new thing and Darcy pushed it down. What happened to him before was all fine probably, and now he would be fine. Just because of what happened just before she got here - in the simulation, no less, so it wasn't even real, she reminded herself -, it didn't mean anything, especially not that this was all the same. Not at all, for plenty of reasons.

"Here, some water," she handed the cup over to him with an encouraging small smile - him downing it at was a good sign. "I got you here after you-- well, you kinda collapsed on the beach. Didn't want to leave you alone to get help, so I got you back here to Akhila for some help." She was over-simplyfying things, every step was a struggle to get him from the obsidian beach, but he didn't need to hear that now, or just how exhausted she still felt from it. "Akhila, is there anything else I can do to help?" she turned to the other woman instead. "Do you need anything to check him out?"

Akhila observed him, his speech slurried together in a way that was alarming, combined with the spiderlike patterns of raised red. She clicked her tongue, about to tell him not to apologise but Darcy had returned with water. Lokni drank heavily, she pursed her lips to tell him to drink slower. Before she could interject with Darcy’s retelling, Lokni had finished. “Yes, Darcy I need you to fetch an oxygen canister. There’re two in examination room B.” The one she’d spliced off for seeing patients, away from her living quarters. “Green top, it has wheels.” Akhila took the empty cup from him. “Quick about it.” Akhila ordered, incase her steeled over gaze didn’t amass to the urgency for Darcy.

The small ward had a cupboard at one end, and sink. She washed her hands first, gloved and then retrieved a new sterilised mask. “Right Lokni you’ve done this before for me.” She informed him, returning to his bedside. “Slow, deep and steady breaths when you have the mask on. First I need your arm.” Akhila tenderly lifted his right arm, she removed the pulse oximeter, and wrapped the cuff around his bicep. “Bit of pressure.” She announced, already pumping it up by hand. He was a touch low, but nothing that couldn’t be remedied with additional slow fluids in a normal scenario. Unfortunately, this simply wasn’t within the realms of normal.

“How’re you feeling?” She asked, slipping the cuff off and replacing the oximeter. On Darcy’s return she began attaching the relevant pieces, and unwrapping the fresh mask for Lokni to wear. “Remember slow breaths please…count to seven if you can.” Akhila gestured for Darcy to grab another pillow. “Help me prop him up.” She barked, some attempt made to keep her voice down in the close confines of an empty ward. Akhila prayed, silently, he’d suffered no intracerebral hemorrhage, but the clamminess was suggesting otherwise. Shit.

Obediently, Lokni followed Akhila's instructions groggily, raising a heavy arm for her to wrap the cuff around his bicep. "Thank you," he groaned. Her hand felt warm against his skin, and he couldn't help but wonder just how cold he felt to her. Those thoughts trailed off however, as she lifted a mask to his face. Not wanting to cause any more trouble than he already had, his eyes fluttered shut and he began taking deep, long breaths, holding them for a time before exhaling through his nose.

'Count to seven?'Lokni thought skeptically, but attempted to do so nonetheless. As he did so, Darcy recounted how she had "got you here after you- well, you kinda' collapsed on the beach." All of this new information was a blur to him, the actions of those around him almost felt a space ahead, like he was behind in physically occurring time. He had fallen? On the beach of all places? A brief memory of a great flash resonated within his mind, bringing back the pain of the moment. Clutching his shoulder, he peeled back the half-charred fabric of his shirt to reveal the strangest pattern of scarring he had ever seen. It was red and angry, the skin raised and irritated. It almost looked like little vines tracing across where his veins were. Lokni swallowed deeply, not fully understanding the weight of what this meant.

The beach? He thought groggily, what happened at the beach? Snippets began to come to him. The argument. The storm. The lightning. As Akhila asked for Darcy to help prop him up, Lokni fought his protesting muscles until he was upright in a sitting position. "I need you to tell me," he said slowly, leveling his gaze at Darcy, "just what the hell happened back there on that beach." At the time of the strike, Lokni had been between Darcy and the shore. The flash had hit behind the both of them. Had he absorbed the shock?

Akhila ordering her around was probably the best for Darcy, she jumped to get the oxygen mask for her (hesitating momentarily to make sure she grabbed the right thing), and then jumped at the chance to come help get Lokni propped up, her eyes on the scarring on his shoulder, only now seeing it in full. He still had the charred clothes on him before, not ever thinking it would be this obvious, this-- detailed, if a scar could ever be detailed.

And then Lokni asked what happened. Darcy blinked, took a glance over at Akhila, almost as if she was asking if it was even a good idea, but she replied before Akhila could give her any indication. It's not like it would be any help, keeping it from him. "I was telling you about all the different things others could do, or at least what I've seen them do. Selin with the size change, me with the zapping. You started to get… upset? Overwhelmed? I'm not quite sure.

"A storm formed around you, kind of mirroring your emotions." Probably not kind of, but she tried to soften what happened a little bit at least. "And then I called all of the powers exciting and that definitely made you upset. You yelled at me. And that's when the lightning struck and you passed out." Darcy paused, intentionally not looking at Akhila still, just focusing on Lokni instead. "Honestly, it all felt like the storm was your doing. Your emotions reflecting right onto it. It all stopped pretty quickly once you passed out. And then--" she gave a small shrug, "well, then I got you back here."

Akhila was too late to stop him from peeling away the fabric. She’d tentatively wanted to leave it––but what exactly was she supposed to do in this scenario? Everything was reading slightly out of sorts, but within the realms of what might be considered normal. His breathing was hard, but he was doing so without need for intubation. She hoped the oxygen would help, especially if the effects had aggravated his prior condition. Akhila worried her lip, and muttered. “Don’t touch Lokni.” Directed at him, in particular, as she knew that Darcy had been well-enough behaved for the last few hours.

Selin with size changes, Akhila needed to pull Darcy aside later and query this. There was significantly bigger fish to fry right now. Yet, Darcy kept going, feeding him nonsense on nonsense. “Enough of that.” Akhila snapped at her. “Stop with that nonsense.” She hissed, dropping her voice in the hopes that Lokni wouldn’t hear her. Akhila dismissed Darcy, she would deal with her later, by pointedly not looking at her. Instead, Akhila moved to the end of the bed, they’d removed his shoes to make him comfortable. Gingerly Akhila lifted his sock, it came away freely, without the skin sticking. She touched her fingers to the sole of his feet. “Can you feel that Lokni?”

There were far more intricate problems to face into, ones of a delicate nature that Akhila didn’t know how to broach. “Any pins and needles anywhere?” Akhila wished she could defer to a specialist, her knowledge was sparse and unstructured. Every step was about taking the next logical leap. It would be days before they could test to see if he had any cognitive decline as a result of this. He was alive, but really, at what cost? Akhila finally, turned back to Darcy with her voice a hushed murmur. “Being honest…I don't know how he survived, he should've gone into cardiac arrest, not just unresponsive.”

Under normal circumstances, Lokni's foot would have been ticklish, but he was too drained to really do much else aside from focusing on breathing and keeping his eyes open. "I don't feel anything. Usually, I'm ticklish though." Listening to Akhila, who had just told him not to touch the scarring, he lowered the hem of his shirt. That was gonna' leave a nasty mark, he thought absentmindedly. Everything felt so surreal, like his consciousness was hovering over his body, barely attached by a minuscule, invisible thread; as faint as a spider's web. The mask that Akhila held to his face made that sensation fade a bit, anchoring him into his own body.

Darcy's words were… distressing, to say the least. Mirrored my emotions? Lokni pondered her words mentally. Was that true? Or was it just how she had perceived things to be? Similar to how she had thought this whole situation to be "exciting."The thought made Lokni feel a bit nauseous. "The storm stopped? Well, I guess that's a positive," he began to chuckle, which made him cough lightly. Choosing to focus on the last part, Lokni raised a skeptical eyebrow, "but how? I'm heavy." His voice was a low mumble, thought the water was helping to a degree.

When Akhila snapped at Darcy, it reminded Lokni of a mother bear shielding her cubs from danger. Was that all he was now? Some cub that couldn't even take care of himself. A ragged sigh escaped his dry lips. Akhila had turned to say something to Darcy, something that Lokni couldn't quite pick up, but judging by the look on Akhila's face, it couldn't have been good.

This was the worst possible time for Darcy's brain to momentarily go "Akhila is hot when she's stern", especially considering she also got annoyed at the fact that she was trying to shut her down, calling what happened nonsense and all - Darcy decided to focus on that. "It's not nonsense, Akhila, it's what happened. You might not believe it but that doesn't change facts. Some of which are still on his body, visible," she couldn't help but point out the scar.

She gave Lokni a smile an another shrug when he asked how she managed to get him here. "Guess not as heavy as you'd think. Maybe I could have pushed you up to that upper deck after all," she gently teased, thinking back to their first meeting, how they ended up separated on that ship. Darcy never would have guessed she could even help prop him up a deck, let alone get him across the island. "Honestly it was probably the adrenaline after what happened that helped me do it. I knew you needed help but running back here and getting Akhila back to the beach, leaving you alone that long didn't seem like the smart choice. And we still would have had to get you back here anyway."

When Akhila pulled Darcy away, she glanced over at Lokni and then back at the woman trying to keep her face steady. "Which would even support him doing it all somehow. If he has control and is connected to the storm, it could have protected him from that specifically. But isnt it something he should know?" Which really just reminded her and she looked back over to Lokni, "Lokni, how does it feel? Your scar?" It couldn't have been just a simple scar with pains, there had to be more to it, and if it was bad enough of a hit it should have killed him, maybe the scar was the key.

Akhila observed, her hand withdrawing as Lokni declared loss of sensation and cemented her fears regarding his nerve endings. Trouble was mounting, and Darcy was practically carefree as she informed her of the severity. Batting back her concerns that Lokni was the epicentre of it all––and thus, that had relieved him of the worst effects. Akhila worried her lip, there was some plausibility to her theories, Akhila loathed to admit it. However, Darcy’s abstract was not within the realms of reason. If she entertained this line of thinking, Akhila supposed there might be a shred of fantasy-logic to it. Darcy powered ahead, drilling Lokni on how his burns felt.

That was half of it, they should be fresh burns, with a sticky-tacky quality, but the markings had already moved beyond scabbing in some areas. Scar tissue forming with a spider-like quality from the tips of his toes, to his naval. He was healing at a rate of naughts, but then Akhila had seen that elsewhere. Craig had demonstrated that by shirking out of his sling far too early, and whimsically declaring he no longer felt any pain. “One moment…” Akhila left in a flurry, she’d been solely reliant on manual observation methods. In her contemplation, Akhila recalled a storage cupboard that had appeared to be a graveyard of monitors.

She felt foolish for not dragging it out sooner, but half the battle would be interpreting the results. How she longed to have Greene at her side. Akhila wheeled the ECG machine through the corridor and back into the all-but-empty ward. “I will need to remove your shirt for this.” Akhila informed, interrupting their conversation after washing and donning fresh gloves. What remained of his clothing was in tattered ruins. Akhila tentatively lifted the fabric of his shirt to peel it away. Careful incase there was any patches of raw skin. “What do you remember of the incident Lokni?”

In reply to Darcy's quip about getting him up onto the upper deck, Lokni couldn't help but smile weakly. She then followed up with a question about his scar and if it hurt or not. For the first time since awakening, Lokni realized that he wasn't in any pain. The strange scar felt like an old memory, it had happened, but the feelings that he should have felt towards it weren't quite the same as they should've been. "It doesn't hurt, I feel alright aside from being exhausted and parched. Feel like I could sleep for a hundred years," he mumbled in reply, clearing his throat once. It was strange, his body felt heavy, like he was coming out of a deep slumber.

Concerned, Lokni watched as Akhila wheeled in the ECG machine, before asking him to remove his shirt. Obediently, he did so, the fabric was ruined. Not that it mattered, that shirt was already threadbare as it was. Much to Lokni's relief, the shirt didn't stick to his skin, and Akhila was so gentle in helping him. He really appreciated it. Lokni was lost in thought for a moment, trying to recall what had occurred back at the black beach.

"I remember getting mad at somethin,' even now I can't pinpoint exactly what it was. Then there was the lightning, and I turned and saw this- this formation that came from the sand, I remember thinkin' it looked a little like a snake. I don't know if that makes sense." Lokni sighed, feeling a little awkward as Akhila began to press little sticky pads that anchored the ECG machine's wires to his chest. Taking off his shirt was one thing, but being touched was another. It wasn't something that he was accustomed to. Despite his best attempts, his memories drifted back to Alex on the ship. An uncomfortable feeling ebbed down his spine at the memory. It hadn't been a bad experience, just strange to someone like Lokni- going from never being touched that way to the feeling of fleeting, teasing fingertips against his skin. He was thankful that Akhila was firm and professional.

Darcy moved automatically, getting another cup of water for Lokni and handing it over to him when he said he was parched. It was about as much as she could help and add to what was happening here. "Here, drink some more, hopefully it'll help."

She kept watching him as Akhila worked. He looked good. He did look more tired than she's ever seen him before but still, it was almost hard to see the man who was just impossible to wake up so she had to carry him here, somebody who was hit by lightning of some sort. Akhila's words sunk in more and more - he should not be alive. That really just convinced her even more that this had to do with his own special ability, even if the other two didn't believe her.

"What do those machines are telling, Akhila? Is he going to be okay?" And then as Lokni described what he remembered, what he saw, got her even more focused. "A snake? Was it made out of the sand or did it come out of the sand? Did it launch at you or do anything? Can you remember?"

Akhila couldn't help her concern, it had been a long time since she'd treated someone she cared for. Methodically, she placed the electrodes, her memory of undergrad startlingly clear despite her fears. The revelations that Lokni recalled the events before were remarkable, even if he had blights and gaps. Akhila acknowledged them both with a nod, but didn't speak as she hooked up the electrodes.

"Slowly." Akhila advised as Darcy encouraged Lokni to drink. She watched as the machine tick through a print-out, her hand held up tight to her chest until she could rip the print-out away. Akhila whipped out her glasses, taking several steps from the bed, to study under the light. Away from the concern of Darcy. Away from the lost-look Lokni possessed. P waves…Akhila's brows pinched as she tried to recall long forgotten lessons. She could map his QRS complex…the rise and fall, neither broad nor narrow. Everything was average, expected, and totally within the bounds of normality for a young man.

She returned, aided in removing the stickers, and assembling everything back into neat order. "I believe you're an incredibly lucky man Lokni, I'm afraid it does mean I must ask you to stay here for the time being." Akhila couldn't speak of the long-term effects of this, but for now it appeared he was out of the critical realm of danger. "You can stay with him if you like." This she said for Darcy's benefit, before her gaze turned back to Lokni. "When you've rested I'll need to run more tests, in the meantime anything you recall of the moments before I'd like to note down if that's okay with you?" Strange occurences were happening on the island, and they were multiplying by the minute.

Despite his thirst, Lokni obeyed Akhila, taking slow, measured gulps of water, being sure to breathe in between. Darcy's animated voice and attention bounced between him and Akhila like a ping-pong ball on a table. He was having a little trouble keeping up, so he was too tired to try and pull anything meaningful from the back and forth.

"I don't know if it was a real snake or what- looked like rock of some sort, same color as the black sand," Lokni mumbled, clutching his brow, a slight sheen of sweat forming there. He watched as Akhila stood poised, her sharp eyes watching the machine ever-so-slowly tick tick tick until she wrenched it away, turning away from the two of them to examine the paper. The rise and fall of her shoulders between breaths betrayed no reaction. She was as calm and collected as always, at least from what Lokni could tell.

Just when he was about to drift off back to sleep, Akhila returned, taking off the sticky patches from his skin. With Akhila's analysis of the situation, he nodded, sighing but not wanting to ignore the doctor's orders. "Alright, I'll stay a while, but I don't intend to be useless. I'll pull my weight as well." He held her sharp gaze, "just like last time."

[vagabondfandoms]

Falls on Me

Day Two: Afternoon

Rating: Teen (For this Chapter)

Previous Chapters:

Day One: Night 2. Day Two: Morning

Characters: Gale Dekarios, F!Tav: Copper, Karlach and Astarion appear at the end, and Lae'zel, Wyll Ravengard, and Shadowheart are mentioned.

Warnings: N/A, Gale POV, Mentions of chronic pain

Gale asks for the Sword of Justice and ends up with a debate.

---

The pings of pain that usually exist in his body at all times since he got cursed with the orb were increasing in intensity. 

“Soon.” Gale thinks, “He’ll need to absorb a magical item soon.”

At first, Gale was apprehensive about acquiring magical items for his condition. He couldn't predict what kind of people he was traveling with. Were they kind souls who would give up a rare magical item for an ailing wizard? Or ones that hoard their treasures like dragons in a deserted dwarf stronghold on top of a lonely mountain?

In general people on the Material Plane are very… well, materialistic. Gale couldn't really blame them. This world is harsh and you have to have some sort of gumption to get anything in it. Or be lucky enough to be born with it. 

Gale considers himself one of the lucky ones. His father was a well-off shipping mogul in Waterdeep. While Gale was an illegitimate child, his father didn't balk at his duties to take care of his blood at least financially. 

And to be fair, his father could have adored his youngest son but Gale just can't remember. His dad died when he was 10 years old and Gale only has hazy recollections of the man. Most of those memories involved his dad stopping over at his mother's house bearing gifts. Being a little kid he can only remember the joy of receiving the gift and not the reaction from the giver. 

Gale was hoping somebody in his new party was a giver and after spending a day with his new “friends” he had a pretty good guess on who. 

Copper, the Ilmateri monk was both physically strong and tactically minded but also a firm devotee to her god’s tenets of compassion, respect, and willingness to go without. 

While all of Gale's other companions (including himself) picked over the camping supplies to make their personal tents as cozy as possible. The monk just threw together a makeshift tarp held up with sticks and called it good.

Gale was 90% sure that Copper would be willing to go without a magical item in her sack if he asked. He just needs to find the right time between battling goblins, spiders, and people posing as Paladins of Tyr. 

---

They just finished dispatching a small band of goblins dragging a terrified owlbear cub to their outpost in an old temple of Selûne when Gale saw his chance to ask Copper for a magical item.

Everybody else was either busy examining the owlbear cub they just saved or looting the corpses for items when Gale casually made his way over to Copper who was rummaging through her pack.

“Tiring business, isn’t it?” Gale starts. “All this traveling and adventuring.”

Copper looks up at him in surprise, apparently not expecting anybody to talk to her. “Are you tired already?” She stands up, guzzling some water, looking over at him from around the bottle.

“Well, maybe a little,” Gale says half truthfully. “But I was hoping for the chance to talk to you about something, well, rather important.”

Copper’s eyes narrow by a fraction and if Gale wasn’t so invested in starting this conversation he might have missed it. His nerves start to flutter in his stomach. “What if she says no?”

“Consider this a break.” Copper shrugs and tosses Gale her water bottle. “Drink some water, it’s hot out here, and tell me what’s ailing you.”

“Ailing me, ha. If she only knew.” Gale thinks as he unexpectedly catches the glass container coming towards his chest. It was aimed in a way that it would be impossible to drop unless you didn’t even attempt to catch it. Gale muscles the cork out and takes a swig of the cool water. 

“She must have filled it at the stream earlier today.” He considers, the cold water feeling good in his parched throat.

Copper sits down on a fallen log, waiting for Gale to finish. He takes one last gulp, downing the rest of the liquid before tossing the empty bottle back to its owner.

“Soooo, we’ve been on the road together for a while now, haven’t we?” Gale says, trying to make his words sound cheerful. Not desperate or needy. “Survived some perils, overcame some obstacles.”

The monk just raises an eyebrow at him but stays quiet allowing him to speak.

“Anyway, ever since you were kind enough to pull me from that stone, I’ve seen you demonstrate remarkable guile and courage.” Gale continues, half speaking the truth and half buttering the woman up so he could get the magic item in her bag. 

“The way you diffused the tension between Zevlor and Aradin. The way you prevented not one but two murders in the Druid’s Grove…”

“Gale.” Copper cuts in. “Those are things any Ilmateri monk would do for others. I did nothing special.”

“Wellll, I don’t know about that.” Gale playfully argues. “Most of the Ilmateri I’ve met are, well, weepy.”

Copper gives him a chuckle and bows her head, conceding to his point. Even though she follows the Crying God, most of his followers take that epithet too seriously. 

“Back to my point, I’ve grown to trust you enough to tell you something I’ve yet to tell another living soul, except for my cat,” Gale says seriously. “I need your help.  I have this…condition that requires me to consume powerful magical items.” 

To Copper’s credit, she doesn’t even look surprised when Gale tells her this. She just calmly assesses the man. Looking him over for any injuries. “You hide it well.” Copper finally says. “It must be serious if you have to consume powerful artifacts.”

“Yes, it can be deadly serious if I don't acquire the items I need,” Gale says gravely. “That is why I am turning to you. I need your help to find magical items to consume. It is vital. Dare I say it, critical.”

“Where do we find these items?” Copper asks calmly.

“We’ve already done the finding. In fact, you have one in your possession already.” The man says lightheartedly. Pleased this conversation wasn't being rejected outright.

“Soooo… you want me to give you the Sword of Justice?” Copper says, connecting the dots to what Gale wants quickly.  But a scowl appears as a new thought enters her mind. “Karlach doesn't want to use it right now but Lae’zel might.”

“Please, I know that sword was difficult to acquire but it's imperative that I absorb the Weave in that item!” Gale argues, his nerves jumping wildly in his stomach. “It will do far more good turning into a rusted piece of metal after I am done with it than waiting in your pack for somebody to decide to use it.”

Copper looks conflicted. She must hear the desperation in Gale's voice. But to sacrifice such a powerful magical weapon for…what?

“This magical item isn't mine to give.” The monk shakes her head, a sad look on her face. “Can you tell me more about your condition? Maybe I can try and heal it instead of destroying the sword?” Copper tries to reason. 

There's hope in her eyes that she can fix the dilemma without disappointing anybody. But Gale feels disappointed all the same.

“This condition is not a kind to be healed by any old healing spell.” Gale chastises, annoyance and vulnerability mixing together. “Some of the greatest magical minds came together to find this treatment.”

“You mean you and your cat?” Copper deadpans.

“Well, mainly Tara.” Gale deflates, not wanting to go into detail about his year-long depressive state after Mystra’s rejection.

“You mentioned healing spells won't work. Have you thought of Ki restoration?” Copper supplies helpfully.

“What! Try some quack Eastern Medicine?” Gale laughs, shaking his head. “No, what I need is the Weave.”

Copper huffs, clearly annoyed. “Ki restoration has been around for thousands of years! Instead of using outside magic to heal an injury. Ki restoration uses life force, either your own or another’s, to help strengthen the body from within so it can restore itself to a healthier state.” 

The monk crosses her arms and looks directly at Gale. Almost challenging the man to refute her. “Ki is a highly regarded field of learning just like the Arcane Arts of the Weave.”

“Sorry, I shouldn’t called it a quack medicine.” Gale quickly corrects himself seeing he got his companion worked up with his quick choice of words. “Waterdeep has one of the largest collections of knowledge in the Realms and the libraries do have a small section about Ki. So I have read up on this… energy before. It seems like an adequate way to trick oneself to relax or slightly enhance one’s abilities. But it’s still a lowly form of magic not even regulated by Mystra.”

“Ki is not the Weave. It doesn’t have to be governed by a god since it is an uncontrollable life energy that we can only harness a small fraction of.” Copper counters.

“Mystra...the Weave is everything. They make up ALL creation….”

“Ki is everything too!” Copper blurts out, uncustomed to sharing her thoughts with another person. “It's the life force in ALL living things.”

“Ki is regulated to the body,” Gale says calmly, overlooking the lack of decorum the monk is following for this discussion. Gale did throw out the first insult so he’ll let a little impatience slide. “Like I said, the Weave makes up everything. It’s the air we breathe, the ground we lay our feet on, the sun and stars. The fabric that makes up the entire universe!”

“Untrue.” Copper argues. “The Weave is one part of a whole that makes up the Universe. It's not everything. When the Weave was gone during the Spellplague, life was still created. People and animals were still born! Ki, the life force was still there. We didn’t just keel over and die without the Weave’s presence. How else do humans live when anti-magic fields are up?”

Gale feels tension forming in his jaw but it wasn’t from annoyance. He was getting excited even energized by this argument. He hasn’t had a good debate since he subbed at Black Staff Academy and had to argue with a teacher that they were teaching their class on Illusionary magic wrong. 

Looking down at the young monk, Gale realizes he needs to get down on her level so they can properly debate this. He was just about to kneel down to say his rebuttal when a couple of the party members came over to check on the two humans.

“Copper!!! Come see this little guy we rescued!” Karlach rushes over, full of excitement over the owlbear cub. Then she stops in her tracks, sensing the tension in the air. “Whatcha guys doing?”

“Urgh, they were just discussing something in-tel-lec-tual.” Astarion drags out the syllables in the last word like it is something rotten that needs to be thrown away. “So~ absolutely nothing exciting at all. Unlike this cool new dagger I found on that goblin corpse!!”

“Really, Astarion!” Gale says exasperated. “There’s nothing wrong about wanting to expand one’s mind beyond the material things of this world.”

The elf pops one hip to the side and examines his new treasure. “The only smarts I like are street smarts. At least they are useful to survival.”

“Come on now! I’ve seen you read in your tent at night.” Gale says, partially annoyed at Astarion's retort and partially because he couldn’t continue his conversation with Copper. He had so much he could say about the Weave and the Universe.

“Purely to pass away the hours of boredom,” Astarion says lazily, sliding his new dagger into his belt loop. 

Gale throws the elf a glare. He does not care for this blasé attitude Astarion always has around him.

“Well, I think break time is over.” Copper says as she gets up and brushes bark and moss off her butt. Karlach was already tugging at her sleeves, trying to lead the monk over to the owlbear cub, who was being watched over by Shadowheart, Wyll, and a reluctant Lae’zel.

Before she is fully swept off by the fiery tiefling, Copper catches Gale’s eye. “The sword is not solely mine to give. But don’t be afraid to ask the group if you really need it. They’re more willing to help than you think.”

Contemplating the monk's words, Gale watches his companions pack up their gear. They will be heading out soon to their new destination. Hopeful finding a way to cure the mind-flayer tadpoles in their heads. Gale can't help the small smile that forms on his lips as he watches the group happily give the scared owlbear cub food and affection. 

Maybe there are more givers in his group than he thought.

Author Note:

I like the fact in early access we had to give Gale a powerful magical item like the Sword of Justice for his condition. It gives his struggles more weight since the cost is so great. I'll try to sprinkle in more tidbits from early access as the story continues.

[blackjackkent]

Metagaming slightly here - Rakha would definitely be super aware of the magical presence at the Arcane Tower and would want to make a beeline for it (and it is technically next in the clockwise cycle we're doing), but as I happen to know that it's basically impossible to maneuver the tower without the sussur blooms, we're going to bypass it and come back after we get up there.

So next up instead is the duergar village!

Another place full of death. Rakha's eyes skim over the small settlement, trying to glean what information she can. It's a ragged and makeshift place, made of lashed-together wood and what seem to be bits of bone. An enormous creature's skeleton sits in the water against which the village is placed. The floor at the center is littered with dead bodies and pools of blood.

The bodies are short; some appear to be gnomes like the one they rescued from the windmill above ground. Others are stockier - dwarves, with the same deep blue-grey skin. It's difficult to tell which group was the aggressor - or if they both fought against some other attacker. The huge lizard creature they killed earlier, perhaps?

There's movement on the upper level. Some survivors of whatever battle took place here. Cautiously, Rakha and the others begin to make their way into the open - and (to both their surprise and mine), they're interrupted.

"Too loud, sun-scum." There's a dwarf perched at the edge of one of the upper catwalks. He squints down at her balefully. "Heard you stumbling. Can hear you blinking. Noise gets you eaten down here. Reckon I'll hush you, before something hungry comes along."

Narrator: His fist grips an axe. On his gnarled, grey skin, you see the Absolute's brand.

Rakha stiffens. Absolutists here-- the first they've seen belowground. The cult's reach extends far. Perhaps not surprising, given they are looking for an exit towards the cult's headquarters.

Kill, says the dark urge in her head. For the moment, she is able to ignore it; the beast's reaction to the kuo-toa below still has her tremendously unsettled. Besides... this is an opportunity. They need to know where the cult goes to the surface. This man can tell them.

(A/N: Several options for how to talk to this guy. The Durge option is, "I'm a rabid dirty dog, and I BITE," which is sure something. XD )

Wordlessly she lifts one palm, showing the mark Gut seared into her skin.

[BRANDED] Show him your brand.

"Huh," the man sneers. "Burning those into just anyone now, are they?" He shrugs. "No harm. Every army needs grunts to run in and die first. Even the Absolute's." He leans forward a little, his eyes narrowing. "But spoil my hunt and you're dead."

All right... now he's starting to irritate her, which unfortunately doesn't change her need for his information. "What are you doing here?" she asks between her teeth.

"Told you," the man says coolly. "Hunting. Slave ran away. Took Sergeant Thrinn's boots. Got to kill the slave and fetch back the leather, or the bosses in Moonrise'll have Thrinn's hide."

(A/N: Oh, this is so much fun. I need to do everything out of my previous order like this. I never saw this cutscene at all before and while none of this is new information, it sets it all up from a completely different angle. I love this game.

Also one of the dialogue options here is, "Would you really kill someone for a pair of boots?", which in the context of a Durge playthrough is hilarious.)

Slavers. Karlach explained this concept to her some time ago, in the context of her conscription into the Hells. Forcing work without choice, without pay, without release. Ownership. Karlach left no doubt of her opinion of such people, so Rakha has no interest in helping this man.

So kill... whispers the beast. Climb and grab him by the collar and hurl him down, down, down to snap his neck against the stone...

She gives a sharp shake of her head. "I'm not helping a slave-catcher," she says tightly.

The man snorts. "A bleeding heart, are you? Reckon I'll just roast and eat it."

And then all her restraint is for nothing, because he attacks them anyway.

----

This is my new favorite fight that I have ever experienced in this game, because Gekh Coal here jumped up next to his buddy Lurgan on the next level up, and then Shadowheart cast a spiritual weapon next to them, and then Lurgan, in an attempt to attack the spiritual weapon, cast Glyph of Warding directly under himself and killed both himself and Gekh in the process.

Incredible. 10/10, no notes.

[ashevermor]

After thinking about it for a long time, I decided to upload the fanfic “Dragon Blood” here as well, for those who prefer this app over Wattpad. However, only the English version will be available here. On my Wattpad profile, you can find it in Spanish, English, and Portuguese.

Disclaimer: It’s better if your device is in light mode so the images look better.

you’re on you’re own, kid.

The last thing Altair could remember was a sharp headache that had accompanied her until she regained consciousness. By instinct, she placed a hand on her temple, hoping that perhaps the annoying buzzing would fade away. But it was impossible, and she had no choice but to rub her eyes and try to focus her sight. The place was strangely divine, but she was sure it was some sort of infirmary or something similar. She cursed herself inwardly for acting so irresponsibly in that forest and turned her head, hoping to find her brother. Indeed, Deimos was on another cot a few metres away from her, and the fact that he was sleeping with his mouth wide open made her let out a small laugh. She immediately regretted it after feeling a sharp pain in her lower back.

She mostly felt dazed. Where were they? It was almost impossible to tell; this place resembled no other she had been in before. Everything seemed so sophisticated with the level of detail in each piece of furniture. There were delicate arches, almost like intertwined branches, supporting an ethereal ceiling that filtered a soft, celestial glow. To one side, a panoramic window framed a majestic tree, its leaves casting dancing shadows onto the pearly floor. At the other end, a delicate bridge arched over a channel of crystal-clear waters that reflected the brilliance of the surrounding colours.

She tried to sit up on her cot but only let out a groan of pain that forced her to lie back down. She heard a sound to her right and assumed her brother had woken up, but in reality, it was a shadow approaching, and she couldn't quite make out who it was.

"I wouldn't recommend getting up. I'm almost sure you suffered a fracture," spoke the mysterious woman.

Perhaps it was the drugs they had used to numb the pain or the shock from the fall, but Altair could swear the nurse attending her had skin of a rather peculiar colour. It was blue or a very light sky blue. What stood out the most about her presence, though, were her long, pointed ears. Altair felt the colour rise to her cheeks after realising she had been staring for too long. The nurse approached carefully and examined her arm, which had a rather strange catheter in it.

"Still, you have strong bones," she complimented.

"Uh. Thanks?" Altair responded, quite confused. She wanted to believe it was some kind of joke, but considering that she had indeed been injured, it seemed more than cruel to make such jokes in her state. "Uh, nurse..."

"Ewelein," she introduced herself.

"Ewelein, may I ask you a question?"

"Of course, anything."

"I don't mean to sound rude, but... what are you?" Altair asked, somewhat embarrassed.

Ewelein seemed initially surprised, as if she had remembered something.

"By the Oracle! I'd completely forgotten. You see, it's a bit complicated to explain, and I'd prefer that someone more qualified do it, but you're in good hands, both of you are. Also, I can answer any questions regarding your health." Altair nodded as Ewelein moved closer to a desk covered in paperwork. "We found some cards with your names in your bag. I hope you don't mind that we checked your belongings, it was very important."

"Right, then... Altair, you had some blows to the head and several bruises on your arms and legs. After conducting some tests, I confirmed that you don't have any brain haemorrhages or anything like that, which is excellent news. Deimos, on the other hand, fractured his left arm and has a superficial cut on his right leg."

Altair nodded slightly as she glanced sideways at her brother.

"I know it all seems very overwhelming right now, but the best thing is to remain calm. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'd like to go inform them that you're awake."

Ewelein left without waiting for a response. The young human, for her part, tried to sit up again, though the pain still lingered. When she finally managed it, she stayed silent for a few seconds, waiting for her breathing to stabilise.

"Ouch."

A groan interrupted her thoughts. It came from her side. Deimos had woken up.

"Deimos!" she called urgently, but when she didn't get a response, she repeated louder, "Deimos!"

"Uh...? Agh, my head hurts," her brother murmured as he placed a hand on his forehead, his face contorting in discomfort.

"Oh, both of you are awake."

Ewelein approached again, this time accompanied by a group of figures that Altair and Deimos didn't recognise. Their presence was imposing; each one seemed to radiate an authority that filled the room with palpable tension. A woman with fox ears and several tails led the group. Her eyes sparkled with determination as she looked at the two humans.

"I see you're both awake," the woman said in a firm voice, crossing her arms.

Altair tilted her head, confused. Something about this woman made her think she wasn't used to explaining things with delicacy.

"Where are we?" Altair finally asked, breaking the uncomfortable silence.

The woman sighed, as if she had been expecting that question, and stepped forward.

"My name is Miiko, and I am the leader of the Brilliant Guard," she began, her tone calm, though still carrying an air of authority. "This place, Eldarya, is a parallel world to the one you know, one that you may have heard of in stories or tales.”

Altair felt her heart stop for a moment. Parallel world. What did that mean?

"How did we get here?" Deimos interrupted, his voice hoarse but firm, as he tried to sit up on his cot, ignoring the evident pain.

Miiko looked at him with a flicker of discomfort in her eyes but responded with apparent calm.

"That is... complicated to explain. The important thing now is that you are safe."

"And how do we get home?" Altair pressed, feeling a mixture of desperation and fear beginning to rise in her chest.

Miiko looked away for a moment, as if carefully measuring her words.

"That is something we will discuss in due time," she said finally, avoiding giving a concrete answer. She then turned to a man with blue hair and a clearly weary expression. "Ezarel, give them the potions."

The man, who had remained silent with his arms crossed until now, scoffed before pulling out a couple of glass vials with a glowing liquid inside.

"Always me with these tasks..." he muttered as he approached. He handed one vial to Altair and another to Deimos, with an expression that was somewhere between annoyance and indifference. "Drink it. It will help with your injuries and pain."

Altair took the vial carefully, inspecting the contents before looking at Ezarel with suspicion.

"What is this?"

"A healing potion," he replied with a dry tone. "Don't worry, I'm not going to poison you. If I wanted to, you'd both be dead already."

"Ezarel!" Miiko intervened, shooting him a warning glance.

"Alright, alright, it was just a joke," he defended himself, raising his hands in surrender.

Altair sighed, resigned, and took a sip from the vial. To her surprise, the liquid was sweet and refreshing, and almost immediately, she felt a slight relief in her body.

Deimos, for his part, frowned but drank without saying anything.

Miiko observed both of them closely before continuing.

"Recover your strength. Later, we'll answer your questions, but for now, you must rest. There is much you need to know about Eldarya and your place here."

With those words, the leader of the Brilliant Guard turned to the other members of the guard, gesturing for them to follow. The door closed behind them, leaving the twins alone again in an uncomfortable silence. Altair let out a heavy sigh, feeling how her muscles, which had been tense until then, began to relax. Even the headache, which had been tormenting her since she woke up, was starting to dissipate. Despite the physical relief, her mind remained flooded with questions and concerns.

With effort, she decided to stand up. The movement wasn't easy, and every muscle protested as she rose. However, the moment her feet touched the pearly floor, an unexpected energy coursed through her body, making her feel strangely revitalised. Her first action was to head towards her brother's cot. Deimos looked at her with a mix of fatigue and anxiety.

"I'm scared," he admitted in a whisper, averting his gaze as if it were hard for him to acknowledge it. Upon hearing his words, Altair placed a hand on his shoulder and gently squeezed, trying to convey some strength to him.

"I don't have a good feeling about the fact that they haven't said anything about how we're going to get home," Deimos continued, his voice laden with unease.

"If we can get home," Altair replied with a sombre tone, her eyes reflecting the same uncertainty as his.

"Altair, don't say something like that. We have to go back. There's no other option," Deimos insisted, this time with a bit more firmness, as if trying to convince himself.

"Well, we'd better get out of this place first," she retorted, crossing her arms and staring at the door with determination.

"Don't you think it would be better to wait?" Deimos asked, uneasy. "That Miiko didn't seem exactly friendly."

Altair pressed her lips together, weighing her words. Finally, she shook her head.

"We need answers, Deimos. And if she doesn't want to give them to us..." she paused, her eyes glinting. "Then we'll find another way to get them."

Altair carefully helped Deimos stand up. What worried her most was that he seemed weaker than she was; after all, his injuries were more severe. However, to her surprise, just like her, Deimos seemed revitalised the moment his feet hit the ground. It was a strange sensation, as if the simple act of standing up in this place returned part of their strength.

As her brother tested his balance, Altair approached a mirror near the exit. Her reflection seemed both familiar and, at the same time, bewildering. She was still wearing the same clothes she had chosen that morning: a sports outfit, perfect for going for a run. But the fact that she was still dressed this way contrasted sharply with the place they now found themselves in.

A knot began to form in her throat as she remembered how, just a few hours earlier, she had crossed the door of her house and waved goodbye to her parents before heading out. Her parents... She had barely had time to think about them since she woke up. The avalanche of information and recent events had kept her distracted, but now, worry hit her hard. Still, she took a deep breath, forcing herself to push those thoughts aside. It wasn't the time for lamenting.

With Deimos following closely behind her, both of them left the infirmary, determined to explore this unfamiliar place. They descended a never-ending spiral staircase, its walls seemingly made of crystal and carved wood, until they finally reached a door. Beyond it, they glimpsed a landscape that looked like it came from a dream: towering trees with trunks as wide as houses, and dwellings made from materials Altair couldn't identify.

The fresh air gave her a brief sense of relief, and without thinking, she tried to run forward for a better view. But she didn't get far. As she took a hasty step, she collided with someone who was in her way.

The force of the impact made her stagger, falling backward, only to be caught just in time by Deimos's arms. Dazed, she looked up, meeting the gaze of a tall man with intense green eyes, dressed entirely in white. Altair blinked, recognising him instantly. She had seen him before, with the others who had entered the infirmary.

"Are you alright?" the man asked calmly, leaning slightly towards Altair to ensure she wasn't injured after the collision. "Shouldn't you two be resting? Your injuries weren't exactly minor. I'm surprised to see you both standing."

Altair straightened up quickly, with Deimos still holding her by the shoulders.

"Well, we could say the potion worked its magic," Deimos tried to joke, offering a forced smile. But the man didn't seem to share his sense of humour; instead, he furrowed his brow slightly.

"That's not normal... It was just a basic potion, it should have barely accelerated recovery," he murmured to himself, shaking his head as though trying to dismiss his own doubts. His gaze shifted toward the exit. "Were you planning to go outside?"

"To get some fresh air," Altair answered immediately, her tone hurried, almost too firm.

The man raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced, but didn't insist.

"I'd feel more comfortable if Miiko knew you were alright," he added after a pause.

The mere mention of her name made Altair frown unconsciously, which did not go unnoticed by the stranger.

"Ah, you don't like her," he remarked with a small smile, though his tone was not accusatory.

"Uh? Oh, no, no, it's not that... It's just..." Altair faltered, trying to find the right words.

"She seems hard to deal with," Deimos interrupted, shrugging as if it didn't matter much.

The man let out a soft laugh, though his expression was more resigned than amused.

"I suppose it's not easy to deal with her at first," he admitted. "But don't worry, Miiko has reasons for acting the way she does. It's best to give her time. Come on, this way."

Despite their uncertainty, the twins followed Leiftan down the long corridor, which seemed endless. Eventually, they reached another long staircase, which they climbed in silence. When they reached the top, they found themselves in a monumental room, its glass ceiling letting light pour in, bathing the entire space in an ethereal glow. In the centre of the room, a huge crystal floated, radiating a powerful and perplexing energy.

"Ah, Leiftan," Miiko's voice resonated with authority in the space, as she quickly advanced towards them. Her gaze settled on Altair and Deimos, filled with astonishment. "You're standing, as if nothing happened!"

"Strange, isn't it?" Leiftan responded, his tone barely hiding his curiosity.

"More like interesting," Miiko corrected, her eyes still fixed on them. After a brief moment of contemplation, she added, "Now that you're here, I'd like to speak with you about something important, privately."

Leiftan nodded, understanding the unspoken message. After giving them one last inquisitive glance, he left the room without saying another word.

The atmosphere became tense once they were left alone with Miiko, though her expression seemed less hostile than before.

"I apologize for my behavior earlier," she began, her tone more conciliatory. "It's strange to have humans here in Eldarya. And yet, at least a couple of months ago, a human arrived here before you. She's currently on a mission, otherwise, I would have had her speak with you as well."

Miiko gestured for them to approach the crystal. Altair and Deimos exchanged a glance, hesitating for a moment before obeying.

"You see, this crystal is very important to us in Eldarya," she continued, pointing to it with reverence. "When you arrived, you fell right into this room. You didn't wake up here because your injuries were severe, but... something extraordinary happened. The spirit of the crystal, the Oracle, awoke and pointed to you."

Altair frowned while Deimos tilted his head, clearly confused.

"It's curious because the same thing happened with Gardienne, the human who arrived before you," Miiko went on, a faint nostalgic smile on her face. "At first, her presence wasn't welcomed, until we realized she had some sort of connection with the Oracle."

Miiko paused, letting her words sink in with the twins.

"I'll be totally honest with you: our world is in a troubling imbalance. Events like these give us hope. What I'm trying to say is that, given what happened, it's possible that you two have some connection with the Oracle as well."

Altair blinked, trying to process what she had just heard, while Deimos squinted, trying to find logic in what seemed like a fantastic tale.

"Sorry if I sound blunt, but... we're not magical."

Miiko gave a wry smile, as if sharing a silent complicity.

"That's another crucial point. We believe you are. But please, understand, this is something so vast it can't be absorbed in a single day."

"What really matters, though," Deimos interrupted, his tone grave, "is whether we'll have the chance to return home."

"For now, I'm afraid it's almost impossible," Miiko said, noticing the uncomfortable looks from the humans. Despite this, she decided to continue before the emotions started to overflow. "You're currently in Eel's lands, at the Headquarters. We are tasked with protecting and overseeing all of Eldarya. It's a complex job, but I'll have Kero explain it to you later... Either way, you have two options: wait until we find a way to send you back, which I see as unlikely, or join us."

Altair swallowed. Perhaps the excitement of the moment had clouded her mind, but until this point, she hadn't fully understood that she was truly in another world. And now, hearing that she couldn't return to her previous life, the news was, without a doubt, overwhelming. Both she and Deimos knew how to keep their emotions in check, which gave them some calm; at least they wouldn't cause a scene at that exact moment. They looked at each other, as they always did when an important decision was to be made. And it was Deimos who broke the silence.

"What do we need to do to join?"

Miiko, apparently relieved, nodded with a faint smile.

"The test is quite simple. Kero will be waiting for you downstairs. Once you're ready, come see me."

Both nodded and left the room. Deimos wasn't sure if it was due to the sudden turn of events, but he descended the stairs with less enthusiasm, struggling to hold back the tears that threatened to fall. When they reached the bottom, the man they assumed to be Kero was watching them with slight concern. Altair noticed the horn protruding from his forehead and the tail peeking out from behind. After all, she would have to get used to the peculiarities of the world she was now in, where everything seemed different.

"Uh, Kero?" asked Deimos, approaching cautiously.

"Oh, yes. A-Actually, my name is Keroshane, but Kero is a simpler nickname," he introduced himself, a bit nervous. "You're Deimos and Altair, right? We hadn't met before, but your names are known throughout the Headquarters."

"Is that a good thing?" asked Altair, somewhat hesitantly.

"Well, the members of the Guards are quite curious, to put it mildly," Kero replied, a shy smile curving his lips.

"Guards?" Deimos asked, seeking clarification.

"Ah, right... Well, that would be a good starting point to explain a few things. It's a bit complicated, but I'll try to make it as clear as possible. You see, we're in the lands of Eel, and we, inside this building, are responsible for protecting Eldarya. We are divided into different Guards. I belong to the Shining Guard. Then there's the Obsidian, Shadow, and Absinthe; each one handles different tasks, but all together, they make the system work," Kero explained. Altair couldn't help but notice the strong English accent he had, especially from the north of England. His words flowed quickly, but since his pronunciation was quite clear, it wasn't difficult to understand. "To join the Eel Guard, you'll have to take a test that will determine which of the other guards you can belong to. Except for the Shining Guard, of course, you could join it, but you'd have to work much harder."

"I see. So, the members of the Guards help protect Eldarya, and the Headquarters provides housing and food in return," Altair speculated, trying to organize her thoughts.

"Oh, of course, the Headquarters handles all the supplies," Kero confirmed. "Still, in our village, there are shops where you can buy with your monthly salary. At first, it will be small, but it will increase as you rise in rank within the guards."

"Sounds simple enough, at least. But I'm sure it won't be. Are we doing the test now?" Deimos asked, with a slight smile.

"Y-Yes! It's in the Library. Usually, I'm the one who handles that, but my partner is free, so I think she'll help us out."

The twins followed him to the Library, which, to Altair, was the most fantastic place she had seen. Of all the places she had been to so far, this was the only one that truly radiated magic. She couldn't help but feel captivated by the books on the shelves, but she told herself she would have time to explore them later. Kero's partner, Ykhar, turned out to be an incredibly optimistic girl. Her contagious energy made both of them smile more than once. The questionnaire was quite simple, although the questions seemed strange to them. However, they both answered in a way that was coherent enough, despite having no real idea of what it meant to belong to one of the guards. They weren't particularly excited to know which guard they would end up in. In the end, Altair was placed in the Obsidian Guard, and Deimos in the Absinthe Guard. According to Kero, the questionnaire was very effective, so they should be satisfied with the results. As instructed, they went to see Miiko, who seemed quite enthusiastic.

"It's fantastic. Honestly, I expected those results," Miiko said, walking toward them with a pile of clothes in her hands. "Since you'll be staying here indefinitely, it's best if you dress for the occasion. Your rooms won't be ready until the end of the day, but you can take this time to explore the area."

Both nodded, grateful for the opportunity.

"Thank you, Miiko," Altair thanked her with a smile.

In truth, Altair had expected to meet someone who would show them around while they looked for an exit. At least, she thought, someone would give them a guided tour, and she wouldn't have to be lost in her thoughts the whole time. That would keep her busy and prevent her from thinking too much about her home and parents. After all, if her mind was distracted, she wouldn't think about anything else. It seemed like fate was smiling upon her when she crossed paths with the same man who had given them that revitalizing potion, accompanied by two other men. One had black hair, and the other, a large man with white hair. Altair didn't want to approach, but Deimos didn't give her another option.

"Uh, Ezarel, right? Thanks for that potion, it actually worked pretty well," Deimos said, breaking the silence.

The three men looked at them in astonishment, from top to bottom.

"I know my potions are excellent, but I don't understand how you're so... well," Ezarel commented, frowning.

"It's a relief, with that pretty face of yours," the man with black hair complimented, smiling at Altair.

"Are you talking about me?" Deimos asked, which made the three men burst out laughing, while the man with black hair blushed slightly, embarrassed.

"It's good to see you in shape, at least," said the tallest man, his voice calm despite his imposing size.

"Yes, we even did the Guard test," Deimos commented, in a more relaxed tone.

"Oh? That must be why Miiko called us so suddenly," Ezarel said after a few seconds of staring at them. Then he spoke with a slight smile. "Well then... which one did you end up in?"

"Absinthe."

"Obsidian."

Altair noticed a flash in the eyes of the tallest man, followed by what seemed like a subtle smile.

"I'm surprised," he began. "We're not as demanding as the Shadow Guard, but I won't lie to you and say it's easy. I'm the Guard leader, I expect you to contribute, Altair."

Although he seemed serious, Altair took the comment as something positive.

"Uh, thanks..." she responded, a little shy.

"Valkyon," the white-haired man introduced himself with a slight bow of his head.

"Thank you, Valkyon," Altair replied, giving him a small smile.

"Well, the same to you, human," Ezarel said to Deimos playfully. "It may seem easy, but I assure you my Guard is just as demanding as the others."

"I won't disappoint you, boss," Deimos responded with a confident smile.

"A shame neither of you ended up in mine, I was curious to see what you're made of," the man with black hair lamented. "By the way, my name is Nevra. I thought it would be rude for me to know yours but you not knowing mine. What were you doing around here, after all? Do you have a mission yet?"

"Oh, no. We just wanted to look around. I'm afraid we don't really know where to go first," Altair responded, glancing around.

"We can help you, after our meeting," Nevra offered with a smile.

"'We'... sounds like a pack," Ezarel commented with a slight complaint.

"You can join us if you want," Nevra said unenthusiastically. "After our meeting, of course."

"Oh, we'll wait over there then," Deimos pointed to the stairs leading to the exit, without much hurry.

Altair and Deimos sat on one of the stone steps, letting the calm of the moment envelop them. Though their conversation with the Guard leaders had been brief, it had given them a lot to think about. They remained silent, watching how the light filtered through the stained-glass windows, filling the hallway with colors. Deimos tapped his fingers on his knee while Altair held the pile of clothes Miiko had given them, playing with the edges of the fabric.

"Have you noticed how everyone seems so... serene here?" Altair finally asked, breaking the silence.

"I guess they've been used to this for years. We're the weird ones here," Deimos replied with a slight shrug.

Before Altair could respond, they heard a soft trot echoing through the hallway. Turning, they saw Kero approaching quickly.

"Ah, here you are! I've been looking for you everywhere," Kero said, stopping in front of them as he adjusted his glasses nervously. "We need to sort something out before you start officially in the Guards."

"Sort out what?" Deimos asked, standing up immediately with a furrowed brow.

Kero sighed, somewhat embarrassed.

"Well... there's one more test to be done, but... there's a small logistical issue."

"What kind of test?" Altair asked, intrigued.

"It's the test to determine which familiar will be most compatible with you," Kero explained, his tail moving with some unease. "Familiars are magical creatures that accompany members of the Cuartel. They help with missions, explorations, or even bring tools when needed. It's a special connection between you and these creatures."

"Magical creatures?" Altair raised an eyebrow, interested. "How does that work?"

"Normally, we use familiar eggs that are kept in the Cuartel. However..." Kero looked down with a sigh, clearly embarrassed. "We've run out of eggs for the new recruits."

Deimos blinked, confused.

"And what does that mean for us?"

"Well, you'll have to wait a few weeks. We're expecting a new batch of magical eggs, but until then, you won't be able to take the test," Kero explained, gesturing with his hands as if trying to reassure them. "But don't worry, you can start with your basic activities in the meantime."

"And what are these magical creatures like?" Altair asked, intrigued.

Kero smiled, his enthusiasm returning a little with the topic.

"Oh, they're wonderful. They can be anything from small fire foxes to glowing aquatic creatures. Each one has unique abilities that complement their guardian's strengths. Over time, the connection becomes so strong that you can even understand each other without words."

Altair crossed her arms, processing what she was hearing.

"Interesting... though I wasn't expecting this."

"Neither was I, but I guess there's no choice," Deimos added with a sigh.

"Exactly, but I promise you it will be an experience worth waiting for," Kero assured them with a smile. "In the meantime, if you need help with anything else, don't hesitate to look for me."

Altair and Deimos nodded, thanking him for the explanation. As Kero walked away, Altair looked at her brother and smiled slightly.

"Well, at least it'll be exciting to see what kind of magical creature we get."

Deimos chuckled.

"I hope mine is something impressive. Though, with our luck, maybe I'll get something like... a mouse."

They both burst out laughing, letting the humor ease the tension of the moment.

In Earth, going for a walk with your boss was something hard to imagine, almost surreal. Altair never thought such a thing would happen to her, but considering they weren't on Earth but in Eldarya, a world full of surprises, everything seemed possible. Now, the three leaders of the Guards had guided them through the Headquarters, the City of Eel, the beach, and the surroundings, which turned out to be much more imposing than Altair had imagined.

She hadn't had time to change; in fact, she didn't even know where she could do so, so she was still carrying the clothes Miiko had handed them. With each step, her feet grew heavier, until Nevra suggested they stop to rest under the cherry tree. Altair sighed with relief, silently thanking the pause. She wasn't sure how much longer she could keep walking.

"We can stop here for a while. Looks like you two are already at your limit," Nevra commented.

"'At their limit'? I think that's an understatement. Do you always walk this much around here or are you just testing us?" Altair dropped heavily to the ground, not bothering to hide her exhaustion.

"Oh, of course, because this is the worst thing that could happen to you. If walking exhausts you, I wonder what you'll do when the real training starts. Are all humans so... delicate on Earth?" Ezarel raised an eyebrow, his usual sarcastic tone evident.

"Sure, because on Earth, we spend the day fighting dragons and gathering magical plants." Deimos sat down next to Altair, crossing his arms with obvious fatigue.

"At least you've got some spirit," Nevra smiled, leaning against the cherry tree. "Though I'd say you're more prepared to rest than to act."

"Do you want me to applaud you for that observation, or was that an attempt to motivate us?" Altair shot him a narrowed-eyed look, her tone dripping with irony.

"Enough, Nevra. Let them breathe a little before we move on." Valkyon shook his head, though a slight smile tugged at his lips.

"Thank you. At least someone here has some compassion."

"Compassion... don't confuse it. The last thing you'd want is for Valkyon to decide to train you himself. Believe me, you'd rather walk until dawn than go through that."

"And you?" Deimos turned to Ezarel with a half-smile. "You don't seem like the type to sweat through training."

"Because I don't need to. Some of us are born with talent, others... well, need to walk a lot." Ezarel shrugged with a mocking smile that only irritated Altair further.

"Is this rest or mental training? Because I feel like I'm losing at both." Altair closed her eyes, resting her head against the tree trunk.

"Welcome to Eldarya." Nevra chuckled softly, crossing his arms as he clearly enjoyed the situation.

"By the way," Valkyon's deep voice broke up the small argument. "We still haven't talked about how you ended up here. How did you two end up in Eldarya?"

Ezarel smiled with a touch of sarcasm, resting his elbow on his knee. "Yes, because it doesn't seem like you two are exactly experts in portals or magic."

"I don't get it either," Deimos replied, crossing his arms. "Altair and I went for a walk. It's something we do often to clear our minds. We live in a house surrounded by forest, so it's easy."

"But that time was... different," Altair interrupted, her tone softer as she looked down at the ground. "I remember walking, hearing Deimos's steps behind me, but then everything just... felt weird."

"Weird?" Nevra asked, leaning slightly toward her, curiosity reflected in his eyes that seemed to analyze everything.

"It was like the air changed." Deimos furrowed his brow, looking at his sister before continuing. "There was a moment when the forest didn't feel... real."

"And after that, I don't remember anything." Altair placed a hand on her forehead, closing her eyes with a slight grimace of pain. "Every time I try to think about it, my head hurts. Like something's buried there, but I can't reach it."

"Same here." Deimos touched his temple, uneasy. "It's like a void in our memory. But when we woke up... we were already here."

There was a moment of silence, interrupted only by the soft rustling of leaves in the wind. The three leaders exchanged glances, their expressions more serious than usual.

"That doesn't sound like a simple accident," Nevra finally said, his previously carefree tone completely gone.

"Nothing in Eldarya is," Ezarel crossed his arms, looking at the twins as if trying to solve a puzzle. "If you both experienced the same thing, there's probably something... or someone behind all this."

"Not now," Valkyon intervened firmly. "For now, you need to rest. There'll be time to investigate later."

Altair nodded, silently relieved that the conversation had come to an end. However, a slight regret washed over her as the silence settled among them. She looked up at the sky, taking in the beautiful sunset before her, and a deep sense of nostalgia coursed through her body. The sky was the only thing that reminded her of home, even if in this world, it was a thousand times more majestic than on Earth.

"Such a shame we can't have our familiars, at least for a few weeks," Deimos lamented, lying down on the grass.

"Huh? Didn't they give you your eggs?" Valkyon asked, surprised.

"Kero told us they ran out of eggs for the new recruits," Altair sighed. "It's a shame, I saw some while we were walking and they're so cute. Do you guys have them too?"

"All recruits must have one," Ezarel clarified. "It's a shame. There will be missions you can't carry out without a familiar."

"How optimistic," Altair thought, rolling her eyes. Despite everything, she decided not to dwell on the matter. Lately, she tried to avoid negative thoughts, knowing that otherwise, she'd end up crying, and that wasn't the plan.

"Here they are! I searched for you like crazy!" Ykhar exclaimed, arriving in front of them, her cheeks flushed. "Your rooms are ready. We tried to place you as close as possible, but it wasn't possible. Deimos, your room is next to Valkyon's, and Altair, yours is next to Miiko's.

Altair gave a sarcastic smile; the situation seemed amusing to her. At least she'd have a private place to sort her thoughts, change, and above all, reflect on everything that was happening. Though she wanted to absorb every detail of this world right now, she knew she needed a few hours of rest.

"Will you guide us?" Altair asked, looking at Ykhar. The rabbit girl nodded eagerly and started walking, followed by Deimos. Before joining them, Altair gave one last glance at the Guard leaders.

"Thanks for the walk, guys."

Ykhar led them through the corridors of the headquarters, speaking quickly about some details that Altair barely managed to follow through the decorations and the twists they took. Altair walked in silence, only listening to what was necessary, while Deimos seemed more interested in memorizing the path. Finally, they arrived at a fork in the hallway where Ykhar stopped.

"This is it," she said excitedly, pointing to two opposite doors in the hallway. "Deimos, this is your room, right next to Valkyon's. And Altair, yours is over here," she indicated a slightly farther door. "It's next to Miiko's."

Deimos nodded briefly before heading toward his door. Ykhar, as if sensing the discomfort in the air, gave Altair a couple of quick instructions about how to call someone if she needed help and then left with Deimos, leaving her alone in front of her room.

She sighed, relieved to finally be alone. She pushed the door open and entered slowly, closing it behind her. The room was small but cozy, with a simple bed, a desk, and a window that overlooked the forest. She leaned against the door and let her body slide to the floor. The weight of the day, the homesickness, and the uncertainty of everything around her became unbearable. Without holding back any longer, Altair let out a few tears, which quickly turned into silent sobs. She covered her face with her hands, allowing herself a few moments of vulnerability that she had repressed so much.

"Just for a while," she told herself through trembling sighs. "Just for a while, and then I'll move on."

The calmness of the room, along with her fatigue, began to soothe her emotions. When she finally calmed down, she wiped her tears with her sleeves and stood up. It was then that a thought suddenly hit her: I didn't ask Ykhar where the showers are.

With a frustrated sigh, she headed for the door, determined to find someone who could help her. As she hurriedly opened it, she bumped into someone.

"Oh! I'm sorry," she apologized, looking up.

In front of her was Leiftan, who seemed surprised as he looked at her.

"Are you okay?" he asked gently, leaning down a bit to observe her better. "Your eyes are red."

Altair quickly looked away, pretending to be distracted by something else.

"Oh, yes, I'm fine. It's just the exhaustion," she said, forcing a smile before abruptly changing the subject. "By the way, do you know where the showers are?"

Leiftan looked at her for a few more seconds, clearly hesitant, but finally nodded.

"Yeah, they're at the end of the hallway, to the right. It's easy to find.

"Thanks," Altair replied, making an effort to sound upbeat as she passed by him. She could feel his gaze on her back, but she refused to stop or offer further explanation.

When she reached the showers, the dim light of the torches illuminated the area. A faint murmur of water told her someone was already inside. As she entered, she noticed that Deimos was finishing adjusting the towels on a nearby bench.

"Did you get lost looking for the showers too?" he joked upon seeing her.

"No, I actually didn't ask earlier," she admitted, crossing her arms uncomfortably.

Deimos raised an eyebrow as he looked at her more closely.

"Are you okay? Your eyes are a bit red."

Altair let out a light, forced laugh as she shook her head.

"Oh, it's probably just exhaustion. It's been a long day."

Deimos looked at her with a bit of skepticism, but he didn't press further. Instead, he pointed to one of the empty stalls.

"Well, lucky you made it. The water's pretty warm, and I think you need it more than I do."

"Thanks," she said, relieved that there were no more questions. Without saying anything more, she grabbed one of the towels and stepped into one of the showers, letting the sound of the running water drown out any other thoughts that might arise.

The warmth of the water enveloped her almost immediately, relaxing her tense muscles. She closed her eyes, letting the drops fall over her face while she tried to calm her mind once more. When she stepped out of the shower, Altair found the changing room empty. Deimos was no longer there. She looked around, slightly confused, before realizing that the water had stopped running and that the steam was beginning to dissipate. She guessed she had spent at least an hour and a half in the shower.

"Damn, that long?" she muttered to herself, feeling the heat rise in her cheeks.

She hurried to get dressed, still somewhat embarrassed by losing track of time. As she made her way back to her room, the hallways were quieter than before, and the soft light from the torches created long shadows on the walls. The fatigue weighed down on her shoulders once more, but this time she felt a little lighter, as if the hot water had washed away something more than just the sweat and dirt of the day.

When she opened the door to her room, she noticed something strange. On top of her bed was a small, odd little bed made of wood and straw, carefully woven together. Next to it, a black egg with violet spots rested on a soft cloth. There was also a folded note beside it.

Altair approached carefully, took the note, and unfolded it. Her pulse quickened as she read the words:

"I know what it feels like to start over without a companion, so I thought you might need one. You can ask at the market about this familiar and what to feed it. I hope you like it. —V."

For a moment, she stood frozen, reading and rereading the note. Her fingers trembled slightly as she looked at the egg, its dark, vibrant colors reflecting the dim light of her lamp.

A whirlwind of emotions stirred in her chest. Surprise, gratitude, and an unexpected warmth mixed with a slight lump in her throat. Altair knew she shouldn't cry again, but she couldn't stop a tear from sliding down her cheek. Someone had taken the time to think of her, her situation, and that simple gesture broke down a small barrier she had tried to build throughout the day.

Carefully, she sat on the bed and brought the egg closer, inspecting it. The violet spots seemed to glow faintly under the light, as if it had a life of its own.

"Thank you..." she whispered softly, though she wasn't sure if the words were for "V," for the egg, or for this unexpected moment of comfort in a day full of uncertainty.

She placed the note on the desk, and with a faint smile that barely formed, she decided that the first thing she would do the next day was to investigate her new companion. For now, she could only wait, but this time, the fatigue she felt wasn't accompanied by loneliness.

She lay down on the bed, looking at the egg one last time before closing her eyes. For the first time since arriving, she allowed herself to feel something close to hope.

[seasons-beatings]

Happy holidays, @string-of-broken-hearts!

Alistair Finley knew there was a certain way their owner liked things. How to walk, how to talk, and how to praise their master were skills that they honed. Everything was to be perfect, or else. They also knew there were times they were given impossible tasks, it hurt them, wanting nothing more than to please their owner. Today was the day they were given an impossible task. Standing before him, his master dug a heel into their hand as they knelt in front of him.

“Useless thing.” Atlas sneered as he looked down at his pet, raising the same foot and stomping on the hand. He grinned once he heard a pop of bone, along with a shrill scream from Alistair. It truly warmed the soul.

“You can’t even clean up after yourself.” Atlas had lost his temper on Alistair, as he often does, causing his sitting room to become much bloodier. An issue considering that he would be receiving guests later in the week. So of course a day later Atlas had Alistair on the floor scrubbing away blood with a wet rag and a single bucket of water. Alistair had not cleaned it well, blood was not so easy to get off of carpet.

That didn’t really matter. He could just hire someone to clean it up. Atlas was simply angry at the moment.

Anger that never really went away with every hit, with every insult, with every order. He kicks Alistair away from him. “You should be honored, your punishment will be light.” His smirk grew wider as he watched Alistair shake, trying to appeal to him. Telling him that’d they’d love nothing more than to be good. To be pliant and sweet and have nothing but their master’s orders in their head.

It almost made him mad. Almost. Instead, Atlas just sneered. “Well, pet, I don’t care how upset you are at your own incompetence. You will do as a say to a T. Nothing more and nothing less. We’ve been through the motions.” He grabbed Alistair’s chin, watching tears roll down their face. The fear was clear as day, the poor thing wore their heart on their sleeves. Stupid, but very cathartic for Atlas.

Light punishment meant no blood was being drawn, though the sight of Alistair covered in their own blood was a treat. The feeling of simply hitting them was a delight. Alistair’s own cries and pleads fall onto deaf ears as blow after blow lands on them. Even more bruises sure to bloom after.

It was after a few minutes that Atlas snapped out of bliss and figured that he ought to get a tool, a cane. He didn’t have to go very far, he had concocted this entire situation somewhat prepared.

Alistair could only watch as their owner brought out a cane, and ordered them to kneel properly. They had already gotten whipped, wounds having barely scabbed over, the cane only aggravated those wounds. They felt himself get dizzy at the thought of getting blood over his master’s floors again. Fortunately, they didn’t. Their back just got slick with sweat and blood. That relieved them, helping their consciousness fade into darkness. They slumped into down, head thumping against the wood floor.

They could only hope their master would be more merciful tomorrow.

[nerendus]

📌 Marika and Godwyn grief and mourning

Thank you! Fic can also be read here.

Black ichor flows from the corner of his pale eyelids and saturates the embroidered nightgown barely clinging to the frame of his mother. A foreign fragrance emits from the body—not the hasty decay of flesh found on the battlefield, but a pleasant scent. The scent that often lingers on the clothes of her youngest set of children after they have spent the day collecting altus blooms and river water to create ‘potions’ for their attendants whenever they do not receive an acceptable answer. The scent of funeral processions before the Erdtree. 

Hurried footsteps reach the threshold of Godwyn’s bedchamber and abruptly stop right before they could walk in. A man coughs, “Your…Your Majesty, by funerary standards, the divine must not interfere with the deceased. Death sullies even the holiest of the blessed. Please, allow your handmaiden to tend to…to his corpse. There is nothing within her to be befouled.”

Atop the golden rotundas, stewards frantically ring the bells to awaken the people of Leyndell. Her son’s chamber is silent, but within hours, she will be amongst the crowd of noblemen and beggars alike sobbing as one large group of mourners—to reassure their faith, calm them down, return her city to the peace and quiet they’ve had for years. Her son lays dead in her arms, and she is the one to pass comfort to the people like a street vendor that sells his wares for next to nothing.

With a black-stained hand, Marika brushes the golden strands of hair out of her son’s face as she speaks, “I have stood upon fields of death where the snow is thick with blood. I have walked through those swamps of mould to carry back the remains of young soldiers to their grieving compatriots that will not accept their passing. Have I not returned to our Holy City unharmed? Am I less pure for holding the body of a demigod when I have remained unsullied by those of lesser blood?”

The man stammers, “Your Majesty, what is it that you…?”

She waves a hand in the air. “Send the high priest if you feel inclined to separate a mother from her son. Otherwise, tell him to pray with our subjects.” Her hand collapses to Godwyn’s chest when the shadow in the threshold disappears. His body still holds warmth—the last stretch of divinity burning his blood with being faced with the impossible.

Treachery hangs heavy in the air  like the suffocating swamp below Liurnia, but she will not speak of the hatred that remains—of the women who once shared her own blood, of the cruel marking they left scorched into his flesh. The Greater Will taught her that death for a queen is a tool. As she carried the burned body of a young soldier to his friends, she did it for them to finally accept his death and return to the battlefield with a clear mind.

But she holds not the body of a young farmer that dreamed of becoming a fighter, she’s holding her son. The boy who spent his youth creating crude weapons out of sticks and stones and holding mock battles with his parents that always let him win. There is no fight in her left. The Carians can cannibalise themselves with the discourse of their alliances to both the Sellian and Leyndellian settlements for all she cares. Her other half is guaranteed to ruin all progress they’ve made in settling disagreements. All that she has fought for no longer matters.

Even as he grew to bear an imposing figure like his father, his mother was never unable to carry his weight. As she takes his head into her arms, all the weight and years of training disappears. She rocks the body of an infant back and forth with the hum of a song she never knew the lyrics to. He does not take up a strand of her hair and bite down like he used to, for he is deep in slumber. The sounds of crying in the corridor are of maidens overjoyed with the news of the firstborn’s birth.

Marika kisses the brow of her son as she cradles him one last time.

Accepting requests, here.

[hqmillioncorn]

Don't Cry over Spilled Milk!

Babycorn turned to look at where the scream had come from. She had been picking flowers a few seconds ago but if there was a scream that near to her and in the middle of Gridania, there was only one explanation. As it turned out her guess was right. There was Cherrypit, reconfiguring his face and in front of a hyperventilating midlander.  Babycorn rushed up and put herself between the midlander and Cherrypit. “Sorry! Sorry! About that! Cherrypit just really likes to scare people using…Glamours!” Of course that was the biggest lie in the world but her friends had helped her come up with it to minimize the amount of people asking what Cherrypit was.  “And he’s very sorry!” Babycorn looked down at Cherrypit with a smile. “Aren’t you Cherrypit?” Cherrypit looked straight at the midlander and nodded. He wasn’t sorry at all. 

ffxiv write day 28: deleterious with @windupnamazu 's butter

babycorn wake up you fricked up big time and in butters room no less

Having practically raised Cherrypit since she was young made Babycorn very good at apologizing to people for any damage he caused. Whether it be property damage or emotional damage, Babycorn was always ready to take responsibility for it. There was no world where she was going to let Cherrypit take the brunt of people’s anger. 

But. Ironically. Babycorn was very bad at taking responsibility for things she did herself. 

Because if someone found out she broke something or god forbid killed another person in cold blood surely the entire world would turn against her again and chase her down another alleyway to corner her again. Call it an overreaction but Babycorn was adamant in her stance. 

Truly the only way to take care of something she might have accidentally broken was to run away and hide. Sometimes she would go so far as to bribe any witnesses (usually the younger ones) with any yummy snacks on hand just to make sure no one told on her. 

Lately she was a big fan of erasing her mistakes. Sadly that was one method that had its limits. Those limits were called ‘If she used her powers too much she would pass out on the ground and get scolded for doing it.’ 

Which was the reason why she was currently hiding inside of a closet in Butter’s inn room in the For’ard cabins. . 

“Sniffle.” Babycorn said out loud. The closest was dark and kind of cramped but it was the only place she could hide where no one would find her. If she dared to step outside then Butter and Pancake would be outside ready to ambush and kill her with rocks (literally.) Maybe she deserved what was coming to her considering what she had done.

Or rather what her tail had done. 

Right now Babycorn was hugging onto it tightly. Both for the emotional support and to make sure it didn’t cause any more destruction. While it was true that Babycorn was starting to feel a little better about having horns and a tail that weren’t going away for now, her control over her tail was almost nothing.  

It would twitch and grab things on its own if she wasn’t putting her full concentration on moving it. And asking for Babycorn to concentrate on one thing and one thing alone was a lot like asking moogle to walk somewhere instead of flying.  Frankly impossible and way too much trouble. 

Babycorn leaned back against the wall of the closet. “If Butter finds out what I did…He’s gonna hate me for the rest of foreveeeerr…!” Her eyes were watering just thinking about the possibility. Butter would probably get so mad he would kick Babycorn out and tell her that he never wanted to see her again and that for sure meant that he would also never hold her hand ever again too. 

The very thought of that was making Babycorn despair about something that hadn’t even happened yet. 

A sudden noise outside made Babycorn jump, her horns getting tangled up in some clothes hanging right above her. As carefully as she could, Babycorn crawled over to the door and creaked it open just an itty bitty bit. 

“Is there anyone out there Cherry?”

In her infinite wisdom she had given Cherrypit the important job of guard duty. So while he was busy playing with his wooden blocks he was also doing the very important job of making sure Butter and Pancake didn’t know she was hiding. 

Cherrypit turned to look at his sister and shook his head. “No person! No! No!” There hadn’t been any sign of any people aside from the few people walking by that Cherrypit could see from under the door. He was reading each and every person’s mind just to make sure it wasn’t Butter or Pancake. Or even Cinnamon. 

Honestly, Cherrypit had no idea really why his sister was hiding in a closet or why he was supposed to tell her if he heard Butter or Pancake coming. Oh well. He would always listen to her either way and Cherrypit was having fun either way. So it was a win win. 

Babycorn let out the breath she was holding in. “Phew. That’s good…” Then Babycorn scuttled back into the closet. 

Right now her plan only had one step. That which was she was going to hide inside the storage closet for the rest of her life and only then would Butter never ever get angry with her.  

It took only a few minutes for her plan to crumble before her very eyes. And it all started with Cherrypit opening the door and peeking inside. He was starting to wonder if there was something really cool in there that he was missing out on, like a yummy snack or something. 

“Bebe? Bebe? What doing?” He crawled up closer to her to see what she was doing and ended up forgetting what he was doing halfway and just hugged her instead. “Hi Bebe!”

“Cherryyy!! Noooo!” Though she was desperate she wasn’t about to push Cherrypit out of hugging her. Instead she would just panic and die. “Okay Cherry, can you go back outside and make sure that-!” 

Babycorn was interrupted by the sound of a doorknob turning. Because as it turned out, not only had Cherrypit also opened the door to see what Babycorn was doing, he was also coming to warn her that both Butter and Pancake were home. 

“Wait-!!” Babycorn held her hand out to try and stop the door but it was too late. 

The door opened and Babycorn tumbled right out, alongside Cherrypit. Who was having a lot more fun than her. “Weeeeee!” Cherrypit cried out as he rolled on the floor like a ball. Pancake bent down and caught him in her arms. “Gotcha!” Years of playing with Cherrypit had prepared her for things like this. 

Meanwhile Babycorn was just lying on the floor, flat on her face and unmoving. Desperately hoping no one would see her. Instead she felt someone pet the top of her head. “Babycorn? Are you okay?” The sound of Butter’s concerned voice caused her to spring back to her feet. “AHAhahaha! Hi B-Butts!!” Babycorn said a little louder than she meant to. “F-Funny seeing you here?!” 

“Um, this is our room?” Cinnamon pointed out. “I really think it's much weirder to see you here instead of us.” A thought crossed her mind as she smirked. “...Or are we interrupting an intimate moment between you and Butter??” 

Butter grabbed Cinnamon from the air and threw her over his shoulder. “Don’t listen to her.” 

Of course no cookie fairies were harmed during this action. Cinnamon simply bounced off the wall and flew back, a smirk still on her face. 

“A-Anyway-!” Butter stepped up closer to Babycorn, “Um..So what were you doing here anyway?” He stretched out his arm to pat her head, checking for any bumps that she might have gotten falling out of the closet. “Do you need help with something? I can help with whatever!” Butter grinned. 

Babycorn felt her face starting to get warmer.  “Err um uhhhhh….!” There was just something about what was going on that was fluttering her more than she had ever been flustered. The fear of Butter hating her had been violently pushed to the back of her mind. Replaced with thoughts of her and Butter going out to eat somewhere, holding hands. For whatever reason.

“I’m fine!” Babycorn yelled out suddenly. Her horns had turned themselves a hot shade of pink. Nobody was sure what that meant. 

Pancake looked upon the scene, mentally taking down notes in her head to share with Linnet later. “Your sister is pretty weird–huh Cherry?” She whispered to the toddler she was carrying in her arms. Cherrypit giggled and nodded. Babycorn might be a little weird but he still loved her all the same, and of course so did Pancake. 

“Babycorn? Are you sure you’re okay?” Butter had to ask. It looked like she had been crying. If there was anything he could do to help her feel better, he would do it. Be it climbing the highest mountain to get a once in a lifetime cup of pudding to crossing the widest river in the universe to reach a delicious drink for her. He was definitely normal by the way. 

“I’m fiiiiiiiiine!!” Babycorn said lying through her teeth. It was very easy to tell when she was lying. “I’m not lying by the way!” She smiled very suspiciously. 

Of course Butter knew Babycorn was lying but if it made her happier to believe her then he would. “Okay…! I’m glad you’re okay.” 

“I’m glad y-you’re okay too…” For some reason Babycorn couldn’t get herself to stare at Butter. That was strange, she had never had this kind of problem before. Maybe she was sick? Yeah. That was probably it…

Pancake decided she had enough of watching her brother and hopefully future sister-in-law flirt in front of her. “If you need me I’m gonna go get a snack with Cherry.“ Before she could even take the first step–Babycorn zipped right in front of her to block her way. “N-No you can’t I…!!” 

Babycorn couldn’t figure out what to say next. “Um…You…I…”

Cinnamon grew suspicious. “Did you eat all our snacks again?” This had happened more than once. More than twice even. “If that’s the case we can just buy more. With the allowance they get from Lunya we got enough to buy an entire store’s stock front and back.” 

“But Lunya said we have to save our money and not spend it all right away?” Pancake brought up. 

“You really gonna take advice from someone who doesn’t follow her own advice?”

“Hmm. Good point.” 

By now Babycorn had pretty much accepted her fate. She sniffled, wiping some tears from her eyes and snot from her nose. “A-Are you gonna throw rocks at me? Or are you gonna chase me away? O-O-Or…?” Twelve forbid there was a knife somewhere at hand’s reach.

“What?!” Butter could hardly believe what he was hearing. In fact he didn’t believe it at all. “Why would we do that?! We would never do anything like that!!” The very idea of it was making Butter wonder if someone had ever done that do Babycorn before. 

If there were people that had–then Butter would make sure to find them and kill them himself. 

“It's cause…cause…” Babycorn looked down at the ground in shame. Her tail slumped down to the ground. “C-Cause…”

“Cause…?” Butter hesitated a bit. 

“I knocked over your juice pitcheeeeeer!!!” Babycorn wailed loudly. “I-I-I didn’t mean to! I was just turning around and my stupid tail knocked it over and it spilled juice everywhere!!” She continued to wail and cry as loudly as she could. 

Cinnamon looked around, true to Babycorn’s words the pitcher was on the ground, scattered and broken into pieces. “So that’s why it smells like fruit punch in here.” 

Without even missing a beat Butter slowly took Babycorn’s hands in his. “We’re not going to do any of that. I promise. Nothing you could do would make us, any of us, do something like that.” Butter looked straight at her, his voice firm to make sure that Babycorn was listening to him. 

“R-Really…?” Babycorn couldn’t stop herself from asking, “No matter what I turn into?”

Butter smiled, “No matter what you turn into.” There was confidence in Butter’s voice. His face wasn’t feeling warm but his heart was overflowing with love. “Babycorn Corn. I want you to know that no matter what you do or what you turn into. Or even where you go, I’ll be by your side.” He paused, “If you want me to, that is.”

“Of course!” Babycorn held Butter’s hands as tightly as she could. Which wasn’t very tight at all, considering her minimal strength. “I always wanna go everywhere with you!” Having Butter at her side made her happy. Even if it felt like her heart was going to explode sometimes when she held his hand.

“Me too!” Butter grinned. 

Pancake cleared her throat, cutting through the atmosphere. “Hey? What happened to us?” She said with a playful smile on her face. “Can you believe this Cherrypit? Let’s leave these two lovebirds alone.” Pancake turned away, nose in the air and walked over to the beach chairs on the other side of their room. 

“Wait-! No! I! I mean we’re not-!!! I mean-! I’m-!” This time Butter’s face flushed a light pink, he brought his hands up to his cheeks and turned away. “I-I’m just gonna clean up! Sorry! Excuse me!” Butter grabbed the closest towel he could then walked over to the juice puddle on the ground. 

Babycorn jumped into action. “Oh! I’ll help!” Her tail wagged from side to side behind her as she walked behind Butter.

Pancake watched from afar and sighed. She had always wanted Butter to be brave and confess his feelings to Babycorn and though he’d made a lot of progress Pancake never imagined the end result would be so…Embarrassing. 

Then again. Butter was always a little embarrassing to watch. 

Pancake handed Cherrypit a cookie for him to chew on. “I really thought she was gonna say she finally ate Cinnamon or something.”

Cinnamon flew right beside Pancake and waved her sleeves up and down. “Hellooo?! I’m right here!!” She angrily chimed at her.