#and she also HAS A DAMN CAT

[ourolite2]

bitch im losing my mind with this one, y’all ate tf down. new crush ‼️ WHAT THE FUCK IS 4+4? ATEEEEEE. y’all im putting y’all on with this account i love original characters and concepts. these niggas? *chef kiss* — neso.

 . ˚◞♡ 𝒛𝒉𝒂𝒐 𝒋𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒚𝒊 9948 𝒆 — the wandering guardian reaper◞ ₊˚

⊹ ۪ ࣪ ᥫ᭡ “ upside down. you've got to turn yourself upside down to see the world from different perspectives. even i know this. so take my hand and lets go explore the world, with different eyes and different perspectives” ꒱

˖ ࣪ earth: 9948e

˖ ࣪ face claim refs: ( x ) ( x ) ( x ) ( x )

˖ ࣪ species: reaper, future guardian angel 

˖ ࣪ ethnicity: chinese

˖ ࣪ age: 26

˖ ࣪ gender: male

˖ ࣪ mbti: entj

˖ ࣪ aliases: night orchid ( family alias ), the house ghost

˖ ࣪ about: maroon eyes glimmer in the dull moonlight above, mimicking the gleam on a jade hairpin tucked into dark, long locks. a hairpin consisting of a blue orchid extending three silver chains and an array of smaller orchids and clinking around with each of his swift turns throughout the midnight air. these swift movements bring flutters into the dark silk of his hanfu that he decided to don today — and after a closer look at the traditionally-cladded spirits passing to-and-fro, he thanks his choice against his usual sweaters and autumn themed clothing. these long robes also mask his leaned, toned figure and lanky limbs. he shouldn’t be here, he is well aware, but curiosity tickled his soul and so he finds himself wandering the world over yonder with a bright smile on his pretty face; androgynous features composed of soft and sharp facial aspects clear as day, along with beauty marks upon the right corner of his lips and below his left brow. a shine catches his eyes and soon he is whisking away from the food stand he previously set towards and is instead making a beeline for what appears to be a jewellery rack along the market streets of yonder. the turn allows for the moonlight to shine perfectly upon his tanned skin, shimmering upon long silver chains and his septum piercing and ring piercing. a night’s breeze sends his hair behind his shoulders, revealing an array of piercings upon his ears — a pair of standard lobe, upper lobe, transverse and industrial piercings upon both ears, with his left ear bearing two helix piercings whilst the right holds one. delicate, ring-clad fingers gently lift one of the hairpins; his dark nails contrasting the pale jade that he tilts side to side in observation. how much would this cost? did he even have money? what currency did the world over yonder use? a idea pops up in is mind and his lips part in thought, revealing a midline tongue piercing. placing the pin down and promising the yokai store-owner that he would soon return, he rises back to his full height of 6’7” ( 201cm ) and trots back the way he came. the wind blows the silk of his hanfu once more, silk that hides a pair of nipple piercings, along with a navel and a lorum piercing down below. as he flutters around, he searches for his angel. he needs some extra coins.

chaotic and a bit all over the place is the reaper known as zhao jingyi — with a dopey smile on his face and eyes that shine with his free-spirited nature and sometimes obliviousness. a kind-hearted individual is he, compassionate towards those around him while extending great levels of sympathy and empathy. his loud and energetic nature is often what people see when they come to know him, an extroverted man with an at times small attention span that may come off silly to most. however, there is something deeper that lies beneath those bright eyes and gleaming expressions. due to pressure and expectation, jingyi develops the bad habit of bottling up his negative emotions from a young age and instead focuses on the positives: a cause of his hyper and chaotic nature. he can even come off as rather stubborn at times. this often results in mood swings once these emotions get too clouded, of which he cannot help. while others might not expect it, jingyi is in fact quite poetic and detailed orientated. he is fully capable of displaying maturity, in contrast to popular belief and can at times even appear to be quite serene and calm. while his energy levels are typically high, he also have his gentler moments, more than others would think. another surprising trait of jingyi would be his deceptiveness; while he is often viewed as dumb due to the way that he acts, he is in fact quite intelligent yet prefers to keep it to himself — only letting it show when he deems necessary. all-in-all, he is a loveable fluffball. however, do not let his soft looks and childish words fool you — while he appears to be the epitome of an angel he is in fact an absolute menace; another aspect that he hides strikingly well.

born a high-reaper and raised by the leader of the yùe sanctuary and the leader of the zhào clan, zhào jingyi was the oldest of 6 siblings, and was well on his way to become the heir of the yùe sanctuary for reapers and otherworldly beings. forced by his father to train day and night from a very young age, in both swordsmanship and several martial arts, making him struggle to keep up with social life and finding friends outside of the estate. so instead, when he could, he would stick around his younger siblings and always assure that they were happy and felt safe after hours of training, free from their father’s constant demands and harassment. while giving his mother a break from all of the stress she was undergoing by taking away some of the stresses of looking after all of the kids at the same time. being the heir to the sanctuary was certainly no easy feat either, when there were high-expectations and goals to be exceeded every corner you turned to. this would result in jingyi eventually closing off and bottling up his negative emotions and instead display his positive emotions to the max, and in chaotic bursts alike. for the longest time, he didn’t know how to calm himself down again, after years of pretending things were alright and bottling up all of the hurt and stress he was going through — that is until he got together with his boyfriend, alessio agresta arias, who had been around since his childhood, due to their parents being acquainted with one another. the years he was with him were some of the happiest years of his life, really. however, the joy would end when the zhào estate one night was stormed by assassins, sent by the government to kill the leaders of the sanctuary and clan. sacrificing himself in order to protect his family, jingyi took a sword to the heart, while protecting his youngest sister and brother. ”but the story doesn’t end here- hold up.” a hand is slammed onto the cover of the book and jingyi’s face pops into frame, his lips curled up into a grin, eyes close while he happily waves at you. you see, jingyi after his death, passed on to the afterlife and eventually met his guardian angel, rishen o’hara, who had been watching over both him and alessio for a very long time. the two eventually begin to watch over alessio and what he is trying to do in order to resurrect jingyi. ”please alessio. . . let go and move on, i will wait for you here. please.”

with a lover, jingyi is playful, always running around to confuse you or poke you on spots you’re ticklish throughout the day to watch as your face lights up as one of surprise and happiness. he loves seeing you smile, especially when it’s the shy smiling that he manages to steal from you with his flirtatious behavior and words, or when he’s teasing you and manages to get flustered smiles from you, watching you melt in his touch the moment he switches from teasing to flirting and touching you. he is very physically and verbally affectionate and goes far to make sure you remember that fact. with a hand always grabbing onto you, whether it’s your arms, shoulders, cupping your cheek or giving your thighs or waist small squeezes, he whispers into your ears how much he adores and loves you. how you make his heart burn like the sun and how you are the rivers that cool him down when all gets dry and scolding. being a poet and a songwriter, he is not afraid to write about his passionate and deep love for you and sing or recite it to you, he adores the blush that covers your face and grows deep when he peppers your face with kisses after thoroughly flustering you with his words and singing. he worships you, every part of you. when you insult yourself, he is quick to grab your hands and pull them up to his heart, kissing you deeply while whispering against your lips how every part of you is beautiful. your inside and your outside. he simply will not tolerate hearing you insult yourself in such ways when the insults are far from the truth. he pulls you around in public a lot, on random times of the day, deciding when a point of the day is the best time for a date. he will take you to late night journeys to amusement parks and day time dates to the cute cat café he spotted down the street the other day and oh he can feel the possessiveness rise in his chest whenever someone he dislikes looks at you. so he does what he does best, cuddle and kiss you, to make it known to anyone and everyone around that you are his. he can’t help himself, he needs to make sure nobody thinks they can take you away from him.

when you are alone however, and sometimes in public, his primary love languages are cooking for you, acts of service and affection and buying things for you that you like or that he thinks will look pretty on you. be ready to get spoiled. because this man does not hesitate on spending lots of money on his beloved.

˖ ࣪ strengths: 

˖ ࣪ ଓ soul-reaping: jingyi has the ability to reap more than 500 souls and carry them on his scythe until he can send them away to the afterlife.

˖ ࣪ ଓ vapour teleportation: can shift his physical form into a dark vapour and can move at high speeds towards a different location. 

˖ ࣪ ଓ dark vapor production: produces a dark vapour from his back and shoulders that can blind and disorientate enemies greatly.

˖ ࣪ ଓ hallucinative vapor production: similar to his dark vapour, however causes those that breathe it in to hallucinate; often multiple versions of him.

˖ ࣪ ଓ acrobatic fighting: very flexible and graceful in general, he is able to move his body in a fluid motions and exert his physical form a bit more than others.

˖ ࣪ ଓ illusionary trickery: spells that he has taught himself, the ability to cast certain illusions.

˖ ࣪ ଓ skilled martial artist: trained from a young age in various martial arts and uses a combination of these in combat.

˖ ࣪ ଓ can see souls/ghosts: as a reaper jingyi has the ability to see ghosts, spirits, wraiths, etc. along with the souls of both living and dead.

˖ ࣪ ଓ increased bodily function: advanced strength, speed, agility and durability.

˖ ࣪ ଓ heightened senses: advanced sight, smell, hearing, taste and awareness of surroundings.

˖ ࣪ ଓ healing factor: a dull healing factor that heals his injuries far quicker than an average human

˖ ࣪ ଓ wings: eventually goes on to be a guardian angel in the afterlife and therefore gains a set of large wings that he can use for flight 

˖ ࣪ weaknesses: 

˖ ࣪ ଓ snakes: he has a fear of snakes that developed in the afterlife 

˖ ࣪ ଓ claustrophobia: fear of small or confined spaces.

˖ ࣪ ଓ fainting: should he grow overwhelmed, he is prone to fainting. 

˖ ࣪ relationships: 

˖ ࣪ ଓ alessio agresta arias: boyfriend 

˖ ࣪ ଓ rishen o’hara: guardian angel, boyfriend ( future )

˖ ࣪ ଓ yùe mèng yáo: mother

˖ ࣪ ଓ zhào mùchén: father

˖ ࣪ ଓ zhào hàoyú: younger brother, irish twin

˖ ࣪ ଓ zhào haitao: younger brother

˖ ࣪ ଓ zhào xiyang: younger brother

˖ ࣪ ଓ zhào yizé: younger brother

˖ ࣪ ଓ zhào yŭ xī: younger brother/sister/sibling

˖ ࣪ ଓ shalika vaiysha: younger sister figure 

˖ ࣪ ଓ takara shimada: close friend 

˖ ࣪ extra: 

˖ ࣪ ଓ was the father of a very beautiful and special cat named luna, that he parented together with his boyfriend alessio.

˖ ࣪ ଓ he was in a band and played the drums 

˖ ࣪ ଓ he was a member of the tempest syndicate.

˖ ࣪ ଓ he is fluent in sign language 

˖ ࣪ ଓ he can speak chinese ( mandarin ), spanish, japanese.

˖ ࣪ ଓ passed down a bunch of his poetry books to his irish twin, hàoyú, who now makes songs out of the poems, so that he can give the songs to jingyi.

[captainuranium543]

"jerza would have 1 kid" "jerza would have 3 kids" WRONG!!!!

jerza would adopt 15 fucking cats and unironically call them "fur babies"

[atopvisenyashill]

Fancasts From Atop Visenya’s Hill

-> Natalie Portman (but as Padmé) as Margaery Tyrell

Inside was a miniature painted in the vivid Myrish style, of a lovely young girl with doe's eyes and a cascade of soft brown hair.

[cloverpurr]

saw someone say they're glad moonpaw isn't a nightsun kid, and someone else say they were happy that bay and thrift were moonpaw's parents because "it means there's no more inbreeding". just gonna put this here

oh my god i forgot . sorrelstripe and fernsong are littermates, making thriftear sorrelshine's niece, then making bayshine her cousin

[whumble-beeee]

Hermanitos

The (Un)Official Guide to Hero-Keeping | Cont'd from Part 16

Content: mentioned drugging, mentioned torture, mentioned murder, begging, guns, lady whump kinda?

* * * * * * * *

Excerpt from: The (Un)Official Guide to Hero-Keeping; a self-help guide for villains and bounty-hunters

[‘But what about the police?!’ you may ask in your extreme naïveté. Don’t you even worry your silly little head about those ineffective dweebs! The police may be a problem for small-time criminals and villains who fail to think past tomorrow, but luckily you have the advantage of this book on your side! Simply make sure to set aside part of your budget to pay off the police, and they’ll gladly unsee any shady dealings they may have previously seen. They’re very good at it.

What do you do if you don’t have such funds? Worry not! While this does often muddy the waters and it is advised to simply pay off prospective arrestors if possible, it is not the only way! Overall, it’s very simple and easy to have the police on your side, and an invaluable resource when you find yourself in a tough spot; You may kidnap a loved one or otherwise blackmail a person in a position of power, seduce them, or any of the other very effective tactics! (Refer to Chapter XX: Blackmailing and Manipulation for more information!)]

* * * * * * * *

For this chapter, dialogue translated from Spanish to English will be bracketed and italicized [like this] for ease of understanding.

Also, I made Officer Kalis Brooks and Officer Frida Galleta girlfriends now, instead of Kalis having a one-sided crush like I hinted in the previous chapter :D I might go back and change the previous chapter to reflect that. Eventually. Probably.

* * * * * * * *

“DECLAN CANSANO, WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING?!”

The bounty hunter groaned next to Kalis, cowboy hat flown off somewhere into the aether. “Aughhh, fuck me… Fri–Frida?... What're you–...?”

Shouting, spotlight, police sirens, sounds and colors and oppressive darkness all melding into one. 

Was Kalis dead? 

That car must have hit her. Yes. Because otherwise that meant that the bounty hunter had saved her WHILE trying to kill her.

And that didn't make any damn sense.

She couldn’t keep track of what was going on around her anymore, the world spinning much too fast for her to comprehend, blackness crushing her in on all sides, threatening to swallow her whole as it crashed over her in tumultuous waves. 

She laid her head down on the pavement with a small groan.

She'd just… sleep for a moment. 

Frida was here. 

Everything would be okay now…

Officer Galleta slid over the hood of the car with practiced ease, shouting and swearing like a sailor as she landed on top of the bounty hunter, literally straddling his legs while still pointing her gun at his head. He dazedly tried to shove back from her.

“I cannot believe you!” she bellowed. “Out of all the selfish, horrible, ungrateful things you've done, that has got to be one of the worst! Killing my girlfriend?! You absolutely dense motherfucker, you bitch, you–”

“Is… is that… Frida?...”

“Si Cabrón, obviously! Who else would it be?!”

“Frita-hermanitaaa~” he giggled in a daze. “Since when do you have a girlfriend?”

“Don’t you ‘Frita-hermanita’ me, you fuck! Take that stupid fucking bandana off, you look like you’re wearing a Halloween costume!” Her voice shook with barely kept-rage, teeth bared and eyes fiery red as she plopped down on the stomach of the bounty hunter and ripped the bandana off his face with venomous fervor. He let out an ‘oomph’ as her knee dug into the soft flesh of his stomach, along with a whiny ‘go away, leave me alone.’ Although the hunter didn’t seem particularly disturbed by it. More… pissy.

“Stop wavin’ that thing around, you’re gonna shoot someone,” the mercenary groaned. He made a half-assed attempt to grab at the gun just as the muzzle shoved into the vulnerable underside of his chin, another hand pinning him to the ground by the lapel of his shirt. He grew still.

“I should be so lucky,” Officer Galleta growled.

God, she’s so hot, Kalis oggled. Pretty pretty.

“I should shoot you right now for what you almost did,” she hissed.

“Oh calm down, you and I both know I wasn’t gonna actually kill her, ya baby. Your fuckass car definitely would have though. I saved her ass. You’re welcome.”

“Right! And now I get the honorable privilege of shoving my gun down your throat instead of watching you slit hers. So yes, thank you Declan, for your extreme altruism.”

“That’s how I roll. I’m sure your girlfriend is grateful too! You should take her out to a lovely candle-lit dinner while I finish my job and take a 20-hour nap. Now let me up.”

Officer Galleta let out a sharp laugh into the chilly night air, bouncing off the trees around them, crystal clear and all-encompassing. “You want me to just let you go? After all that?!”

He opened his mouth, only to stop short, eyes flashing briefly over to Officer Brooks’ half-conscious form. He propped himself up, wholly disregarding the gun shoving into his trachea as he leaned in closer to Frida’s rage-etched features, voice dropping to a gravelly fast mumble.

He whispered, “[Frida, what’re you even doing here? You know what will happen if my boss finds out we talked to each other.]”

“Oh that's rich–”

“[No, Frida!]” he urged. “[Look, I know you’re angry and I’m sorry I made you come all the way out here, but you know what Lana’ll do if she finds out! You’ve seen what will happen, you’ve felt–]” he reached up and gently grasped her shoulder, where Frida immediately slapped his hand away and gripped at the site defensively. “[–what will happen! And look I’m sorry for scaring you and your girlfriend, but whatever you decide to do tonight, I’m leaving with my hostage, because I’d rather not see anyone maimed again, or KILLED, by some cutesy pastel psychopath–]”

Frida shoved her gun further into his neck. “[Shut UP, Declan, I know! I’m gonna let you go, I was just… ]” She took a deep breath, barely restraining her anger. Then she didn’t. She slammed her fist down on his chest, hard. 

“[GOD, FUCK YOU and your terrible life choices!]” 

Declan barely flinched. His hand fell to the melted and twisting flesh that shined off his cheek, his jaw, his neck, his arm in the spotlighting headlights of the police cruiser. Eyes vacant. He sighed, letting himself look past the Frida and stare dead-eyed upward at the cloudless sky. 

The stars look so pretty tonight.

So far removed from the torment of humanity…

“... Can’t say I disagree.”

Frida’s gaze softened slightly. 

He shoulders untensed

She sighed. 

“[Deccy, we… you can’t keep doing this.]”

His gaze flicked downward. He sighed. “[Can you get off of me?]”

“[What would it take? How do I get that woman off your ass?”]

[“Frida, there is no ‘getting her off my ass.’ She knows everything about me, she knows all my secrets, she knows who you are, she knows who I am, what I am... She’ll tell everyone.”]

An unbearable pause.

[“Would that really be so bad?”] Frida finally pleaded. She had no other solution. Declan shot her a look.

Yeah…

“[I’d have to shoot her dead to get rid of her,”] Declan resigned. [“And her bitchy little boyfriend, and whatever fail-safes they have in place. You know that the police won’t help me–]”

“[But I can help you!]

“[–and YOU’RE certainly not allowed to help, because before you say anything, I’m not letting you risk your life for me like that. Period.”] 

Frida went to argue with him, but she just barely caught that stupid little sparkle returning to his stupid red eyes. God dammit. “[Your girlfriend, on the other hand… I mean if you were willing to hit her with your car, maybe she–]”

And Officer Galleta’s spirited anger returned tenfold, voice soaring high above the trees. “You really don't know when to quit, do you?!”

He laughed. “Nahhhh.”

“I’m just trying to help you!”

“Don’t need it, thanks. Let me up.”

“What if I shot you right here and now?”

“Fuckin’ do it! Finish the job your girlfriend couldn’t! Shoot me. Be her knight in shining armor, you won’t!”

Officer Brooks’ eyes shot open. What was all the shouting about?

“All this talk about saving our lives, and you don't even want to save yourself!!”

“Wait, wait, so… huh?” Kalis tried to interject. God, her body hurt so much. Were they… Were they whispering at each other just now?  “What is happening, I don’t– Why were you speaking Spanish?” Kalis groaned, forcing her head to leave behind the cotton balls and clouds. “What did you say?”

“Look, either shoot me or let me up, Frida,” the man deadpanned. “Kill me. I know you want to.”

Frida growled, every muscle in her body tensed, on fire, shaking as she shoved the muzzle of the gun even further into his chin, forcing his head back to grind further into the asphalt. She kept it there for a long while. 

So long. Too long. Holy shit was she actually gonna–

Officer Galleta suddenly yelled out, an enraged howl, and bounded off the bounty hunter, kicking a couple of rocks into the ditch sidelining the road. “Augh, this is just like you! Every single time I try to talk to you, you deflect and refuse to talk even though you’re– AUGH!! I just want to help you Declan! And you pull me into your illegal, unethical bullshit–...” She charged back over to him, holding out her hand for him to grab. “Get up. Now.”

He grabbed her hand back and popped right up to standing, dusting himself off as Officer Brooks stared at them, mouth literally agape. She hadn’t– She just– 

“You look like shit, by the way,” Officer Galleta commented. 

“I feel like shit," Declan chuckled. "Haven’t slept in like three days–” 

“And you’re fuckin’ high, too.” 

“Ehhhhhh, you caught me.” 

“Frida?... What’s going on?” Kalis tried to interject again. Her voice felt so small. She could barely hold back her tears, her chest felt like it was splitting open. 

Frida was a dirty cop…?

“Can you at least pretend to care about your own life as much as I do?” Officer Galleta snarked.

He scoffed. “Yeah, care so much that you’d pull a gun on me and threaten to kill me?”

Her mouth fell open, speechless for a moment. 

”I– I–... You–”

“Wouldn’t have actually died? Just like your girlfriend wouldn’t have?”

“No! I-I wasn’t actually gonna shoot you!”

“Right,” the mercenary deadpanned. “You were just gonna hit us both with your car so I couldn’t even save her.”

“Well it worked, didn’t it?!” Galleta cried. “You saved her from getting hit! And no one had to die at all! This isn't just about your life, asshole! It’s about mine, it’s about my girlfriend’s, our family’s, the people that you kidnap and torture!”

“Oh fuck off, Frida. Having to deal with you is worse than having to torture people, truly.”

“Stop doing it and you won't have to deal with either!”

“Or,” Declan spat. “YOU could leave me alone. Like I keep asking you to!”

Frida’s jaw might as well have been on the floor. “I'm not leaving you alone just because you can't get away from some psycho bitch you fell for ten years ago!”

The bounty hunter’s eyes went wide. “Oh! Sorry for thinking I could actually love someone countless years ago! So sorry for my naivete! Maybe you should inform your secret girlfriend of the Cansano family curse before she gets tortured and murdered too!” 

“Oh no, you’re the one who let her get into your pants BEFORE you knew she was fucking insane and then find out about your stupid little secret–” 

“No, I’m the one trying to make sure you don’t get turned into a lab rat or brutally tortured and murdered because you don’t understand how fucking insane she can be–” 

“–and saw an opportunity to exploit your ‘oh I can’t actually KILL people, I’ll murder them with my stupid little cowboy gun–” 

“– even though you were literally there when she threw acid on us and I protected you–” 

“–then make them feel better’ BULLSHIT WHEN WE BOTH KNOW IT COULD BE USED FOR SO MUCH GOOD BUT INSTEAD–” 

“–because that’s what family DOES INSTEAD OF BECOMING A FUCKING TRAITOR–” 

“–YOU BENT TO HER WILL UNTIL I LITERALLY HAD TO CHANGE MY NAME–”

“–WHO SELLS OUT YOUR HER FAMILY JUST TO WORK FOR THE GOVERNMENT–”

“SHUT UP!!” Kalis screeched out, hands pressing into her ears to block out the dizzying noise. Both their attentions turned to her at once, their childish shouting match thankfully screeched to a grinding halt. A dirty cop and a bounty hunter, staring at her. Enemies. Villains.

“Frida!” Kalis cried. “I-I– I don't– what's going on with you?”

Frida’s face melted into a mask of terror as she took in Kalis’s prone form, still sprawled out where the bounty hunter had dove them both out of the way of her oncoming car. “Kalis! Oh my god, I’m so sorry, are you okay?”

Kalis skittered away from the cop. “What is happening?! Why– Why are you talking to him like that?! Why were you yelling?”

“I–” Galleta’s breath petered out. “Kalis, I know this looks bad–”

“You’re a dirty cop!”

“I’m not a dirty–”

The bounty hunter scoffed under his breath: “You kind of are though–” 

“Shut up!” The two cops yelled at him in unison. He flipped up his hands in surrender and turned to walk away.

“Hey, no, get back here!” Kalis yelled.

The hunter stopped in his tracks and sighed. “Can we please get on with this, I have places to–”

“No! You’re going to prison!” She turned to Officer Galleta. “Look, Frida, I don’t know what’s going on with you and him, but– but– He kidnapped and tortured a boy, Frida! You can’t tell me you’re on his side! I don’t care if he’s like, I don’t know, a love affair, or he’s blackmailing you, or whatever you’ve got going on, but you can’t just sit idly by–”

A barking laugh echoed up and down the highway, a sound that rang off the asphalt and successfully started fringing on Kalis’ absolute last nerve. “Love affair!” the mercenary snorted. “Fuckin’ love affair, holy shit, a love affair! She thinks I’m your boyfriend, Frida! God, no, that would be the day! Shit man, fuck that, fuck that…”

Kalis narrowed her eyes on the cackling man. “I don’t see what’s so funny.”

He shook his head. “She’s not my girlfriend, chica. She’s my sister.”

Another pause.

Oh.

Oh. 

Wait, no. 

What?

“I–...” she looked over to Officer Galleta. Frida. Her love. “Huh?” 

Frida took that small step toward Kalis. “I can explain. But I’d never hurt you, and I’m not on his side. I’m on yours. I promise.”

“I don’t–” She wanted so desperately to believe her. So, so bad. “Are you a part of a crime family?...”

“No, I’m–”

“Technically you are–”

“Declan!” Frida snapped. “I swear to god, shut the fuck up.” 

He rolled his eyes and turned his attention elsewhere, while his sister purposefully looked toward her baffled partner. “Look, please understand, I’m not letting him go because he’s my brother, there’s so much–”

Kalis’ eyes widened. “Who said anything about letting him go?”

The color drained from Frida’s face. 

“I– I mean… I’m not–...”  She took a deep, shaking breath, then started talking at about a million miles a second. 

“Look, just listen for a second, you have to understand, lives are at stake here, my life, your life, Declan’s, so many others, I need you to understand I’m trying to make sure no one gets hurt–”

Officer Galleta’s voice faded into the back of Kalis’ mind, static filling her head like thousands of angry bees, only directed by the thunderous pounding of her own heart. It was a strange case indeed, the case of the Traitorous Girlfriend and the Bounty Hunter. The facts and the lies were strewn up across the wall as one, connected haphazardly with spools of knotted red string. Too much, too fast, Kalis couldn’t handle it all, help help–

Stick to the facts, detective:

Frida had a secret villain brother. She was in a crime family? She was a dirty cop. She was a liar. She was just trying to help. Apparently. But what are the promises of a liar if not absolutely meaningless, that of a scoundrel, a fiend? She also wanted to send that boy to his death. She wanted to let a man who captures and kills and tortures set free. She wanted to let him go. She was a liar. She didn’t care that he tried to kill Kalis. She betrayed Kalis. She lied. She just wanted to keep her loved ones safe. She’s a liar. A dirty cop. A liar. A criminal. A liar, she lied, what else had she lied about, was she capable of more, was she capable of killing? Would she just stand by and let her brother kill her girlfriend? Would she help, would she help him torture, HAS she helped him torture, she would kill, liar, killer, betrayal–

Frenzy, frenzy, what was up or down, was was going in with the world–

Human life at stake?

Stan.

Stan was at stake.

Save Stan. That’s all that mattered. Who cared about her stupid life anyway?

She grabbed Frida roughly, desperately grasping at her shirt and yanking her toward the car that held the prisoner. “Frida! Please! He's a kidnapper!”

If she could just show her. 

If Frida could just see.

“He kidnapped a boy, he kidnapped a super, he tortured him, you should see the things that he’s done to that boy! You can’t let him go, you haven’t seen what he's done, he’s a monster!”

“Not a boy,” the bounty hunter lulled, popping back up from where he’d apparently disappeared behind the cruiser that almost hit them. With that stupid fuck-ass cowboy hat on again.

“Excuse me?” she asked incredulously.

“He’s not a boy,” he repeated, meandering back to them. “He’s 22. He’s an adult.”

No no no no no no no, Kalis, stay focused, he’s trying to throw you off your game.

She grabbed her love’s sleeve, pleading. “His name’s Stan, Frida! Stan! I met him, I talked to him, he’s scared, he’s hurt, he’s drugged, he doesn’t even understand what’s going on right now. You brother, that man right there, he tortured him, Frida! He’s bruised and bloody and he has broken bones, he’s collared so he can’t use his powers and your brother dragged him around by that collar he’s a monster Frida, please, we can save him!”

The bounty hunter’s face shifted in her periphery. Angry. Tense.

Focus on your love. You can save the boy, you can save them both.

Frida tried to reason with her, voice slow and pleading: “...Kalis… I know. I know what he does. What he's done–”

No no NO NONONONO!!

“What happens when I see that boy on the news one day?!” Kalis pleaded, literally grabbing Fridas hands and sinking to her knees. “That he was found dead, when I see the report of every gruesome torture he was put through before he was found, and I see him there and knew that I could’ve done something about it, but I let him go? What do I do then, Frida?”

No response. Not some smartass retort from the bounty hunter, not some vile, pleading words to understand from Frida. 

Nothing.

“I promised hi-im,” Kalis wept. “I promised him I’d save him. Please Fri-ida. I-I can’t do this without you, I can't, I need you.”

Frida stared at the ground. She shivered.

“I can’t–” Frida took a large gasp in, voice shaking almost as much as her body. “I can’t– Let–... You. Die.”

The wrathful bounty hunter himself piped up: “I’ll do my best to make sure he’s treated well, yeah?... That’s the best I can do. That’s all I can do.”

His voice was so gentle.

The voice of someone who cared.

The voice of someone placating.

The voice of someone trying to get their way.

Her jaw clenched, so hard she thought her teeth would shatter.

“You… are both… under arrest,” she whispered. 

She reached for her holster. Empty. Shit shit shit shit shit– she jerkily fumbled around her pocket and crashed up to her feet in a frenzy, barely managing to get a proper hold on the mercenary’s confiscated gun before brandishing it directly at the bounty hunter and the dirty cop, the traitor.

The mercenary’s eyes widened. Then narrowed. “That’s my gun.”

“You’re under arrest, you’re both–!” she pointed the gun at Officer Galleta, who took a few shocked steps back. “ –under arrest! For attempted murder of an officer, for aiding and abetting, for corruption, for betrayal, for lying, for everything! Both of you! On the ground! NOW!!”

Silence.

A look passed between the siblings, from the bounty hunter to his partner in crime.

A certain gleam in their eyes,

“Drop your weapons, and get on the ground. Now!” 

“[Frida, that gun doesn’t have any bullets in it,]” the bounty hunter muttered under his breath. 

Officer Galleta’s eyes went wide. She looked to her brother. He nodded. 

She knew that sparkle in his eyes.

God. Fucking. Dammit.

“[I better see you again. Fuck you.]”

“[Love you too. Thank you.]”

“Shut up!” Officer Brooks shouted. “No talking, put your hands–”

Officer Brooks screeched in surprise, in fear, in heart-pounding, blood-racing fear as Officer Galleta broke into a sprint and lunged at her. 

And she accidentally pulled the trigger of the deadly gun grasped in her hands.

At the one she loved.

No.

NO. 

NONONONONONO–

She screamed.

Click.

And she slammed into the ground, all breath knocked out of her violently, her girlfriend scrambling on top of her to pin her down, Kalis scrambling and screeching under that to get up, grappling and shrieking until the muzzle of a standard-issue police gun dug into her chest.

She froze.

Done.

It was over so quickly.

From so close, Kalis could see the tears in Officer Galleta’s eyes.

Her voice cracked.

“Frida… Please… Don’t–”

The bounty hunter swooped by, crouching down just enough as he sprinted to grab his gun and kept running toward his truck. He didn’t look back.

“NO!!” Kalis screamed into the inky black nothingness of the night, into the ghostly white and shadowed and tear-stained face of the person she had trusted most in this world, loud enough that it woke Stan up from his drug-induced haze for the shortest of moments and made him look around in confusion at the sorrowful screams that surrounded him, make him struggle as the driver side door slammed open and shut and Declan scrambled with almost unbelievable abandon to get the engine to turn over.

And Stan cowered away from him, insurmountable fear worming through his mind: He’s going to hurt me again.

“Frida!” Kalis gasped. “Frida, Frida, please, we have to save him, we have to save that boy, we still have time we can still save him let me up let me go please please PLEASE DON’T DO THIS I PROMISED!! I PROMISED HIM FRIDA! I PROMISED I WOULD SAVE HIM I PROMISED PLEASE DON'T MAKE ME A LIAR–”

Officer Galleta didn't say anything. She couldn't. She was frozen to the spot, paralyzed. Except for the minute shudder of her chest, except for the tears that started to fall.

And they stayed like that until the truck of Declan Cansano rumbled to life and screeched off into the night.

* * * * * * * *

Next (when posted)

AND if you'd like to know what's happening in the sludge that is Stan's mind during this scene, check out this drabble!: This Edible Ain't Shiiiiiii~~ (*enters warp space*)

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@paperprinxe | @tippytappytyping | @chaotic-orphan | @notactuallyluska | @lumpofsand

@watermelons-dont-grow-on-trees | @whumpwhittler | @thelazywitchphotographer

(If you'd like to be added or subtracted from the taglist, don't be afraid to ask!)

[morningmask27]

Honestly I'm also not fully happy with what they did with Whis this book

[catsafari25]

A/N: Hello again, and with this I think (?) I may have succeeded in writing enough bionicle fic to get it out of my system (unless another plot bunny hits me like a cannonball, but... eh, we'll see) and thus, here is the companion piece to the Vakama & Roodaka oneshot.

This time, exploring the scene where Vakama entered the Great Temple, from his side of things! This was also partially inspired by the scene in Challenge of the Hordika where Nokama is almost physically repulsed in trying to enter the Great Temple :)

x

In the tunnels beneath the temple, Vakama must stoop.

At first he shuffles, mutated arm tucked against him and his sole hand brushing only briefly along the floor to steady himself, but the passages are dark and deep and lined with creatures which seek out the weak. The eyes that watch him are not hungry. They keep their bellies too full for that.

In the end, it is easier quicker to drop to all fours, to share the weight between claw and tool that feet alone cannot. His altered form folds into the new stance with frightening familiarity. It's comfortable.

Natural.

The crown of his mask grazes the tunnel's ceiling, but only in passing. His gait is sure. Well. Surer than the ungainly slouch it had been before.

It was said – back when Matoran were awake to say such things – that even the strongest swimmers of Ga-Metru would hesitate before plunging into the depths of the protodermis sea. Not because the creatures there had any fondness for the taste of Matoran. In truth, it was thought that the rahi actively disliked the flavour. No, it was because the way Matoran swam was indistinguishable from the rahi's usual prey. Only when they had sunk tooth and jaw into their meal would they realise their mistake.

It was an annoying, if harmless mistake for the rahi.

Matoran couldn't say the same.

Vakama's early crawl through the passage had been like that of a Matoran swimmer: functional, but slow and indiscernible from wounded prey. Creatures drag themselves down into these depths to die, in hopes that they will be devoured only when they are too far gone to feel it. The eyes are patient. They will wait to see if this newcomer is similarly inclined.

And so when Vakama drops to his haunches, the eyes blink. Reassess. He moves less like the hunted and more like the hunter now, more predator than prey, and the eyes – and teeth – keep their distance after that.

The path Vakama stalks through was once a protodermis pipe, made obsolete even before the cataclysm. Newer conduits had been built, more efficient, more resilient, and this one had been disconnected but never dismantled. When he reaches its origin, it takes some effort – and his blazer claw – to break the seal across the hatchway, but when he does, one of the temple's protodermis purification chambers looms above him.

The room beyond is quiet.

Unmarked.

He doesn't realise he's stopped until the chittering of his audience draws closer. The snarl he throws back echoes off the pipe's walls, and the eyes retreat, but do not leave.

Vakama curls his hand around the lip of the hatch, and then falters.

Something is wrong.

It's not a pain, because the feeling does not hurt as it ought, but something is undeniably, fundamentally wrong. It causes his breath to catch, his hand to flinch, and it would be so easy, so easy, to turn and walk away, only...

Only he came here for a reason.

The wrongness flares, amplified for a moment, and then he pulls himself up. The eyes watch, but do not follow. Do they feel it too? Can even such base creatures sense the innate malice the temple exudes?

He clambers out of the purification chamber – empty and abandoned now – and stumbles upon his landing. He catches himself, but does not rise back to his feet.

Wrong.

This is wrong.

And at the edge of the wrongness there is a strange sort of terror. It dreads the same way the fire fears the sea, the same way the prey fears the predator; it is the meeting of two primally antithetical forces where only one can survive. It whispers turn back through his mind.

He moves into the next room.

It's one he knows well. Light filters down from the rot-stained windows, centering – as it had the day he'd first seen it – on the suva, and casting long sentinel shadows of the columns standing to attention around it. A crack mars the suva, its stone dome now split cleanly in two from the quakes, and – drawn by some desire he cannot identify (instinct, curiosity... nostalgia?) – he approaches.

It seems so small now. Even bowed and altered in his Hordika form, he looms over the Ta-Metru symbol he'd once had to stretch to reach.

Unbidden, his hand moves to the niche where once he'd placed a Toa Stone – where once he had though himself chosen, duty-bound, destiny-gifted – and falters a breath from the stone.

The wrongness spikes.

Screams.

And with a twist of something he will not call horror, he understands it is not originating from himself.

But from the temple.

It is repulsion. It's alienation. It's recognising him, but as other, as rahi.

It's disgust that a monster would dare enter its sanctuary.

In the Ta-Metru carving, stone once polished to the point of fragmented reflection, he sees a glimmer of his own face. Neither Toa nor Matoran. Nothing blessed by Mata Nui.

Vakama recoils.

And then a wave of his own disgust, propelled by that fury that runs so close to the surface now, rolls through him. If you didn't want us as the Toa, you should've stopped Makuta from choosing us, he thinks, and digs his claws into the stonework.

The wrongness sings.

But he knows it for what it is now, and his morphed, clawed hand gorges scars through the carving. The stone is soft. Its makers had never imagined someone would take a blade to it.

There comes a tapping from across the room, echoing brazenly off the ancient stone walls, and Vakama retreats instinctively into the shadows. A Rahaga enters.

Norik?

No, this Rahaga's armour is more akin to a Po-Matoran than a Ta-Matoran's, the colour of dust and stone. Vakama tries to recall the Rahaga's name – and then dismisses the attempt.

It won't matter, in the end.

The Rahaga walks as he always has, stooped and slow, but clearly unhindered by the temple. He passes by the suva and runs one gnarled hand across the stonework, his movements marred by curiosity rather than reverence.

The rage arrives a fully-formed creation. It drowns out the wrongness, floods the apprehension, and he is moving before he's decided that this is the path he wants.

It is not pain, for it does not hurt as it ought.

But it does still hurt.

x

Whatever the Rahaga might once have been, they are old and weak now. Four are captured before Vakama's rage has a chance to cool, but the ire is no less dangerous when it does.

(That's the thing about Ta-Metru; it's not a place of fire so much as it is of magma. And magma doesn't extinguish with the cold; it sets. It moors itself into place, an unmovable, burning force.)

The rage settles, solidifies around his heart and lungs and carves a home between his breaths.

(Magma is not fire. It does not leap blindly from one source to the next. Instead it advances. Slowly. Steadily. It finds a channel, a destination, and it engulfs all in its path until it reaches it.)

He finds the last two remaining Rahaga, pathetically ignorant to their brothers' fates and still scavenging the temple for answers. He hears the way Norik appraises his sister's translation, relief clear in his voice that they are one step further on this wild rahi chase. Relief, surely, that the Rahaga are one step closer to regaining their Toa form.

(And Vakama's anger has found its destination.)

He does not descend on the Rahaga's leader the way he has the others. No. Norik will know what's coming for him first. He gets to fear. Vakama waits until Gaaki has gone, until Norik is alone, and then he circles. The wrongness thrums in his veins, weighing him down and labouring his breaths. It doesn't matter. Let Norik hear his approach.

Norik doesn't try to run. Vakama will give him that much. (A wise choice. Vakama intends for this encounter to last, but if Norik runs, Vakama cannot be sure he won't chase.) Instead, the malformed once-Toa calls out and actually tries to approach him. Stupid. Doesn't he know that he won't win any fight, transformed as he is? As both of them are? No, instead, he tries to talk. As if they are equals, as if Norik has done anything to deserve his respect rather than his scorn. As if he has earned the temple's forgiveness for his trespassing.

Even when Vakama raises the fate of Norik's fellow Rahaga, Norik attempts to sway him with the illusion of reason, talking of duty and unity, as if he's not using the other Toa Hordika to chase after a rahi myth for his own desires. As if their roles are in any way comparable, both Toa of Fire once, both leaders, it's true, but Vakama hasn't forgone his duty to chase after selfish needs.

And it stops now.

Vakama circles closer, and Norik is still talking, unease in his voice, but not fear. Still searching for the right words to turn Vakama to his bidding as he has the other Toa Hordika. Ever the voice of two-faced logic.

Why won't he just shut up?

Does Norik think him to be as gullible as the others? As quick to desert his duty as them?

And Vakama knows he wants – needs – to shake that assurance, that arrogance out of Norik. Needs to see that facade of self-righteous wisdom crumble into the terror of his situation.

The growl begins deep in his chest and, unleashed, it becomes a roar. He rears out of the darkness, into the weak sphere of light surrounding Norik – and there, there he finally sees true fear fill the old fool's eyes.

Something slams into Vakama and he reels, his roar cut short. His hand reaches automatically, defensively, to his mask. He finds only water there. It clings to him, imbued with some sort of power – he can feel something other in it – but otherwise impotent.

"Leave my brother alone," Gaaki snarls. She stands in the doorway, small and hopelessly overpowered, but her shoulders are tensed with a stubborness Vakama recognises. Already, her spinner is powering up for another shot.

Well. Two can play at that game.

Vakama's rhotuka fires into motion, but the water has seeped into the mechanism, and dowses the fire before it has a chance to catch. He gives it a withering look, before turning the expression onto Gaaki. "Very clever."

Another water spinner hits him, but this time he is braced for it and all it does is wash harmlessly off him.

"Is that all you have?" he asks. His blazer claw splutters, but the claws on his hand flex. After all, there's more than one way to defang a muaka...

Gaaki steps back. Good. She knows she's outmatched. "It's a devastating attack underwater," she offers, and her words are strong but there is a cracked edge to them.

"Then you'd better start finding a puddle," Vakama growls, "before my claws find you," and he drops into a run, feet pounding and fangs bared and that ever-present wrongness humming about him.

She doesn't flee. Just like Norik, she stands her ground, gnarled fingers wrapped tight around her staff. Her eyes are hard, but he sees the way her hands shake.

How long will her resolve last, Vakama wonders. Before or after the claws find their mark?

He never finds out.

He's knocked off his feet before he reaches her, and when he hits the ground, ropes of energy pin him to the earth, like a water-bound rahi caught in a net.

What–

Norik.

He'd forgotten Norik.

He thrashes against the restraints, but they hold strong – for now. His blazer claw splutters again, but it does nothing to the energy that binds him.

He stills as he hears footsteps approach.

The two Rahaga hobble into his line of sight. Gaaki is breathing hard, as if only now is she allowing herself to feel the fear. "You left that late, Norik," she says, and even the breath that follows sounds more like a shaken wheeze than a nervous laugh. "Almost too late."

"I only had the one shot. I couldn't afford to miss," Norik replies. "He's got our brothers. Gaaki, go find–"

"I'm not leaving you alone with him," she retorts. "I only went for a moment before, and look what would have happened if I hadn't returned."

Vakama tilts his head as well as the energy net will allow. He grins at the Rahaga, anger curdling it into a sneer. "Yes, Gaaki, you're very good bait, congratulations." He shifts his gaze to Norik. "But you've always been so good at getting others to do your dirty work, haven't you, Norik?"

Norik doesn't even have the decency of guilt. Instead, he simply looks tired. "Whatever you think you know–"

"I know the truth! You don't care about the Matoran, you only care about yourselves!" He strains against the ropes, and although they do not break, there's a little more give in them than before. He slumps back to the ground, breathing hard. "You might have the other Toa fooled. You might even have the temple fooled, but not me," he growls, and the temple's hatred presses down on him, straining his last words.

Gaaki places a frail hand on her brother's arm. "Norik," she says, and there is such unbearable sorrow in her voice. "He looks in pain."

"It's not my doing," Norik assures her softly. "My snare spinner only binds."

Vakama snarls. "I don't need pity from the likes of you. I know what you are."

"We're allies, Vakama," Norik says, in that insufferably reasonable way of his. "Friends."

"You're frauds," Vakama snaps. He twists against his restraints. They slacken, just a touch. "Liars. You don't deserve to walk these floors."

And the Rahaga stand there, unburdened by the temple's hate, strangers to this land, to Metru Nui, and yet it is Vakama the temple repulses? After everything he has forgone, the life he's abandoned, the friendships he's lost, Mata Nui punishes him?

His rhotuka fires off a fire spinner, and it goes wide, cracks a wall. Norik and Gaaki stumble back, Norik preparing another snare shot, but the energy net holding Vakama snaps. Vakama lurches forward, suddenly free, and slams into Norik.

The snare spinner wraps itself around a column. It lights up the room with crackling energy.

A blast of water grazes past his shoulder, too shy of hitting Norik to commit to taking the easy shot, and Vakama reels towards Gaaki. He fires with a snarl, but hears the snare spinner coming again and ducks at the last moment.

Again his own attack misses and the shot cleaves clean through a wall. Something on the other side begins to smoulder.

Then it begins to rumble.

It's a low sound at first, as deep as the earth and just as vast. Almost like a distant growl. But then the cracks begin to spiral out across the roof, along the columns, and the room buckles.

The light flickers. The frames of the high windows above collapse.

The world becomes fragmented, filled with flickering images. Falling masonry and toppling pillars and dust – but the sounds never relent. Even in the depths of the passing darkness, the thunder continues.

And when the dust settles, so does an awful silence.

Vakama straightens, or does his best approximation of it. Fragments of cracked protodermis fall from his shoulders, his head, his back. He withdraws the hand which has somehow found itself raised above Gaaki, knocking aside the stone slab caught against his arm.

Where's Norik?

Both Hordika and Rahaga stand side by side, that quietness disturbed only by the skittering of stone shards settling. There is wrongness in his breath, his head, and it's impossible to separate where the temple's ends and his begins. But any moment now, Norik will reappear from the wreckage, bearing that ever-same holier-than-thou look, and the anger will rise anew in Vakama.

Any.

Moment.

Now.

"You've killed him," Gaaki says, and her voice breaks that terrible stillness. She draws in a half-breath that cracks into a sob. "You've... oh, Norik..."

No.

No, it was an accident. He hadn't meant to– Norik had simply been in the wrong place. It wasn't as if he'd taken a blazer claw to Norik, or hit him directly with a fire spinner. He'd only meant to... what? What had he only meant to do?

Something swings towards him and he grabs the staff before he even registers what it is.

"He's not dead," Vakama says, and maybe if he says it, he might even believe it. He snaps his gaze to Gaaki, as if her grief is bringing it to pass. "He's not. He's not as easy to kill as that. When the others– when the Toa find him, he'll be fine. Fools like him always find a way to survive."

Gaaki attempts to pull her staff free, but her strength is no match for Vakama's. He wretches it out of her grasp and tosses it aside.

"Stop that."

She doesn't listen to him, only steps back and charges up her rhotuka. The grief in her eyes fogs into hatred.

The water spinner hits him but does little more than rock him.

"Stop."

Gaaki screams, a sound of rage and anguish, and releases a volley of spinners as ineffectual as the first.

Vakama's patience – or whatever had held him in place until now – snaps. He lunges forward. His claws close around the joints of Gaaki's rhotuka and pins the mechanisms harmlessly into place, in the same manner one might pick up a baby ussal crab by the widest edge of its shell. She thrashes, but Vakama's grip holds.

"I said, stop," he snarls.

She's breathing hard, her gasps sharp-edged with agony. "You killed him," she says, voice hoarse and hateful.

His insides twist, and – Gaaki hauled by his side – he starts the ascent to where the rest of the Rahaga are trapped. He doesn't look back to the rubble. Doesn't glance for one last glimpse of Norik's resting place.

He's not dead. He's not dead he's not dead he's not

The wrongness, the hatred, has woven so deep into him, it's almost a part of him now.

Toa don't kill. Vakama can't remember who taught him that (he recalls, briefly, the flash of a gold mask, but it comes with pain – grief – and he pushes it aside before it can take root) but it gnaws at him like a trapped stone rat. Toa don't kill.

But he was never meant to be one.

And if the Great Temple – if Mata Nui – thinks a mistake was made in Vakama's destiny....

Well. That's somebody else's problem.

x

The Hordika that returns to Roodaka is different from the one she sent out. There's something new in his eyes... or perhaps something lost.

"How was the temple, Vakama?" she asks when it's just the two of them.

He looks to her. Beneath the anger, beneath the rahi, there's almost a haunted look to those eyes. It vanishes a moment later, but Roodaka never doubts her own eyes.

"Unwelcoming," he replies, and Roodaka smiles. She could have suggested Vakama pick the Rahaga off one by one in the chaos of Metru Nui, outside where her Visorak could have been an aid... but the temple had been too good an opportunity to miss.

"Good." She sets a hand on his shoulder. "You owe no loyalty to Mata Nui, Vakama. Not anymore."

He rolls his shoulder, but not sharp enough to dislodge Roodaka's hand.

"One thing I do not understand," she says. "What happened to the sixth Rahaga?"

The Toa growls. It is a gutteral sound, rooted deep in the chest and at home in a way it wasn't before. "You wanted a message left for the other Toa. I needed a messenger."

"Alive?"

Vakama shrugs his shoulder again, and this time she lets him roll her hand loose. "Does it matter, so long as they understand?" he growls.

No, Roodaka concedes as she surveys the remains of the Toa before her. She supposes not.

[cruesuffix]

Still thinking about cat!Mick...

The thought of him fighting with his brothers is so amusing to me, especially if momma deal has to intervene. Or maybe him fighting with people at school....we know he wasn't a perfect student, especially cause he threatened a teacher(that teacher was low-key a wuss, done called the cops on a 14 year old). Just him getting into an altercation with another student and he's all pissed. His tail puffed up, ears back, he's hissing and yowling and nobody knows what to do because they don't wanna get scratched tf up.

YAYYY CAT!MICK IS BACK!! anon i have to stay that i too still think about cat!mick so much!! and this is such an amazing little prompt!!!

(side note: you are so right anon!! i never really thought about that… some grown ass man was terrified of a 14 year old mick mars to the point he called the cops on this random ass kid… absolutely hilarious lmaooo yeah he was a damn wuss!)

now don’t quote me on this but mick actually admitted to getting into fights in school when he was a kid. don’t know if he grew out of it when he hit high school or continued to fight with other students but… let’s pretend he did continue his little crusade of violence. i mean it goes along with our hc that he was an orange cat when he was younger soooo perfect!! he’s the kid in school who no one wants to piss off. especially because he’s all spry and jumpy cause he’s part cat.

i think they mainly realize as long as you don’t touch him and just stay nice, he won’t bite (literally). it took a couple of curious kids who couldn’t help but pull his tail or try to touch his ears for everyone to realize: “don’t touch the cat boy!”

still, one day some kid starts heckling him. maybe he doesn’t realize how powerful mick is, but it doesn’t matter cause little kitten mick start wailing on this poor kid. tail all puffed up and back arched, he just goes to town clawing the shit out of this kid, with the rest of the school kids watching them. anyone who tries to stop him gets hissed at, which makes them immediately back the FUCK up. he’d be yowling the whole time cause… how dare you even try to fuck with him?? (wait last minute addition: I now have an image of a teacher running up and pulling mick away from the other student by the scruff of his neck lmaooo)

poor kid has to admit defeat and walk back to school (or if it was after school: walk back home) and have to explain why he’s got cat scratches all up and down his arms. you probably wouldn’t be able to count the amount of times momma deal gets called to the school to discuss her son’s behaviour lmaooo just constant “your son scratched up another kid… again.”

weird to say but this is still pretty cute anon!! i love that evil little kitten… a little chaotic orange kitty mick that won’t hesitate to put paws on whoever’s troubling him <3333

[pa-pa-plasma]

kind of frustrating that people took "fat does not equal unhealthy" to mean "fat is not unhealthy." sometimes being obese IS unhealthy & excess fat can cause a lot of problems. ignoring health issues isn't progressive. real "oranges kill people with depression" moment

[madqueenalanna]

we have a client at work whose "type" is like black pitty mixes (she keeps getting them) and she came in w one the other day and my coworker was like "that's great cause there's that black dog syndrome" and the client was like "oh yeah i have that i love these black dogs" and my coworker was like "no it's about how black dogs are way less likely to get adopted in general" (i added "black cats too") and the client was like ??? WHAT???? FOR REAL??? i love that she's so obsessed w her (gorgeous, well behaved) dogs that she couldn't even conceive of a world where people didn't like them

[loregoddess]

damn I knew the Nibelheim section was gonna be kinda sad, but did the devs really, really have to go and make it sadder?

[kohakhearts]

my worst capricorn trait? workaholic

[micamone]

hey guys

[7-oh-ta1]

I just went on a buying spreeeee I'm so sorry bank account 😭😭😭😭😭

[lesbeid0u]

[mutalune]

hey siri how do I stop feeling gutwrenchingly anxious in the guilt way for using the treatment methods available to me to not be in constant misery