#and yet the only method she found was by slowly killing them

[dead-salmon]

thinking ob lb2 again and i'm still so sad that it was messed up so badly when the initial themes were really great

like skadis & odin's (which skadis 2nd interlude elaborates on) selfish love, wanting the world and beings they love to continue living even if it's a cruel existence for them. the way you can compare it to surtrs selfish feelings he has for ophelia, or the love sigurd and brynhild have for one another

skadi & ortlinde being unable to understand their loved ones decisions until it's practically too late. the inability of ophelia, skadi and ortlinde to actually take action until it's much too late. napoleon serving as a symbol of hope in that regard, the rainbow finally spurring ophelia into action.

the from lostbalt manga scene of ophelia admitting that she truly had different wishes in life than where she ended up, apologising for not doing better. skadi grieving over this, over ophelia, as a mother who is in the exact same spot of being unable to leave the duty that was placed on her.

lb2 had potential man, skadi's character has so much potential. it just pisses me off that both the game and fandom reduce her to moe scathach when there's so much that could've been done with her character

[multifandomfanatic02]

"My Little Partner in Crime."

pairing : father!Alastor x daughter!reader

synopsis : you spent nearly 80 years by your father's side without him knowing who you truly were. Don't you think it's about time you told him the truth? Would he despise you?

warnings : weep bitches.

word count : 3,106

          It had been 76 years since she had passed. Yet she remained in the body of a 15 year old girl. In hell, of course no one aged. Not many child sinners were often found in Hell but she was special. While she wasn't an overlord, she was a brilliant mind behind one.

           In life, [Y/N] felt she had been misplaced in the world. So many terrible things had happened at such a young age. She got by though. Through learned methods and maybe a little bit of her genes had helped too.

            She was orphaned at the age of 10 years old. Father died before she was born and mama fell severely ill when she was 10. It was an unfortunate circumstance for such a young child to be in, however it only got worse from there. After both parents had died, she ended up in a very poor fostering system. In which none of the children were treated right. It was so much worse for her.

             [Y/N] was the daughter of an infamous serial killer in Louisiana. Which did not look good to potential foster parents. If her father was a fucking psychopath, what would she be like? In a way, they weren't far off in their speculations. And they proved to be right later on.

            Her mother didn't find out about the love of her life's deeds until he was pronounced dead one eventful night. Gunshot to the head in the midst of burying his own victim. Regardless of what was said about the man, she still loved him all the years after before falling to her own demise. It wasn't like he was a crazed monster, in fact, he likely saved more people than he killed. He only went after the worst of the worst.

            It was obvious that the man loved his wife more than life itself. More than his job. It saddened her knowing that he would never get to meet his daughter. Children were never planned or even talked about between the two considering sex was kind of a sensitive topic for the both of them and for different reasons. So the one time they decided to 'experiment' she ended up conceiving. Funny enough, 6 weeks later was when he died. Neither parents had knowledge of [Y/N] presence yet.

          [Y/N] was scorned throughout the entirety of her foster community. Not for anything she did, no no. But for something her father did. No one wanted her. Regardless, she was happy that she was on her own in a way. Her 4 years in foster care were quite peaceful.

            It wasn't until she was 14 that she had been finally picked out of the system. An old man, maybe in his fifties, had come to get her. The fostering system, not wanting her to continue her stay any longer, kept their dealings with him under wraps so everything stayed out of legal documents.  [Y/N] wasn't adopted, no, she was to become his wife and to bear several of his children. Figures. What else would a man like him want in a child. Women were still known as the caretakers at the time. Nobody in this day and age was evolved like her father whom treated her mother like a queen when they were alive.

            Thankfully it never got too bad before she decided to take her fate into her own hands. She was an avid reader. Her favorite things to read were the medical books found in her room when she was in the system. So she eventually learned a thing or two. It started off with a crushed pill in his drink every morning to stave off his libido. So he was never in the mood to touch her. (Don't ask where she gets the medication, it's a secret.)

               Wearing him down slowly every day and night for the next year before his untimely death. An insulin overdose. It'd be like he died in his sleep. During an autopsy, no one would even know. She grinned ear to ear, feeling the man's pulse disappear from his neck. She took a breath before calling 911 in a faked panic tone. Convincing actually. "Hello? I n-need help. My husband isn't b-breathing, I think he may be dead. Please come save him! He can't die! I love him!" She managed to force tears from her eyes.

             Ultimately, he did indeed pass away and she was finally on her own. I guess it wasn't a totally bad set up since his property, belongings, and money went to [Y/N]. It was short lived, unfortunately. All that money that went to ballrooms and jazz music. It was paradise and worth every penny she thought. Only to die at the age of 15 from an infected fox bite. (Random, right? Just like dad's lol)

           [Y/N] had been in Hell for 76 years. She wasn't well known unlike her companion. Sticking to the man like glue after all this time. She worked well with the Radio Demon. Their minds complemented each other very well. Almost to a point of familiarity. When she first arrived in Hell, it was like she had made a big boom in the talk of the town. She was a mastermind and very talented at killing and pranks. It sparked a lot of the overlords' interest, especially since she wasn't interested in becoming an overlord herself. All she wanted was to enjoy her dark and very humorous afterlife. [Y/N] of course declined all their business proposals, even the famous Vox.

             There was one she couldn't turn away from. He was charming and the two immediately had an unbreakable connection. The connection itself was unreadable but it was there nonetheless. He made a deal with her, promising absolute protection from the exterminators and other overlords and in turn she would help with his dealings. It was a fair trade, the Radio Demon was a bit impulsive with his actions while [Y/N] methodically planned all her own dealings 30 steps ahead. And with her being 15, well, she was thought to be an easy target.

              It was actually strange, they look alike too. The same color scheme, same nose and eyes. Both shared that constant shit-eating grin and composure. The only difference between them being that he's an elk demon while she, a fox demon. It was literally just the tail, antlers, and hairstyle that set them apart.

               Overtime, the radio demon, opened up to her piece by piece. Alastor, that was his name. It didn't take to long for her to come to the realization that he was in fact her beloved father that her mom talked about oh so much. It was clear. It wasn't just their appearance but mannerisms that were so similar. Her name being the same as his mothers surely didn't help either. He thought nothing of it. Alastor didn't know, he was too oblivious to anything that wasn't himself. And up to now, it never felt like the right time to tell him, so it's been a secret.

            Turns out she wasn't the only one to have this realization. Carmilla Carmine along with many other overlords figured it out before even she. Carmilla being a mother herself felt empathy for her and talked to her whenever she needed it. Rosie found a deep love for [Y/N] herself, acting as a mother figure as well. The little darling was just like her bestie, Alastor, how could she not? Other overlords weren't as reasonable and often threatened to use the knowledge as a weapon against her. What would Alastor think? Did he ever want a child? Would he stray away from her if he found out? Often enough, the overlords who threatened her ended up without their lives by her hands by the end of the day.

         Seventy-six years, Alastor had kept [Y/N] by his side every step he took. It wasn't until his powerful fight with Vox that he decided to step away. He disappeared for 7 years without notice. It broke her heart into a million pieces but just like before in life, she marched on and kept her promise to him.

           It wasn't until news arrived in Pentagon city about this Hazbin Hotel that she'd heard Alastor's name after so long. He was working as the host of the hotel. It wasn't often [Y/N] showed emotion but this time she couldn't hold it in, tears streamed down her face. Her sturdy smile began to slowly break apart. It seemed her father was her weakness. While he didn't want to admit it, it was mutual. He left without saying a word to avoid seeing her disappointment in those little eyes of hers. He didn't want her see him so weak. In a way, he subconsciously felt he had some kind of responsibility over her.

            The walk to the hotel was nerve-wracking for [Y/N]. Seeing him after all this time felt bittersweet. She was excited of course but she was awfully upset about his random disappearance.

Knock, knock, knock

        The Princess of Hell had opened the door, to her surprise to see a red and black fox demon with a huge smile on her face. Charlie was suddenly having a flash of deja vu. Where else has she seen this before? In any case, it wasn't the most obvious thing to pop out at her. This girl was a child. There shouldn't be a child in Hell, whose cruel idea was it to send her down here Charlie thought.

          "Princess Charlotte, it's a pleasure to meet you. My name is [Y/N]." She bent down pulling her dress between her fingers to greet her.

           "Just call me Charlie! It's nice to meet you too! Are you here to stay in the hotel? If so we would love to have you here with us. Especially someone as cute as you." Charlie reached out to pinch the young demon's cheeks before composing herself.

           "I actually am, among other things. I was hoping I could be of service to you." Charlie sat questioning her proposal for a second.

             "I'll gladly accept any help I can get but love, you are a child, don't you want to focus on going to heaven and get out of this place?" Charlie bent down to her level and took the girl's hands in her own.

              "Don't let her age fool you, my dear. She is a very capable demon. In fact, better than most overlords I know." The familiar radio static voice tickled [Y/N] ears as Alastor materialized behind Charlie. He smiled genuinely as he held out his arms, waiting for her embrace. Tears suddenly streamed down as she ran into his arms. The two holding onto each other as if one of them would disappear forever.

               "I apologize for my sudden departure, darling. I hope you know that I would never leave you willingly. It was the only way I could keep my side of the deal." He stroked her hair in attempt to calm her sobbing. She couldn't say anything, she had already forgiven him a while back. Alastor couldn't do anything to make her hate him.

               "Alastor aren't you going to introduce us? Who's this sweet thing?" Angel dust walked to the doors to join him and Charlie. The rest of the sinners in the lobby following suit.

              "I guess you could say she is my partner in crime. This little darling has been by my side for nearly 80 years. I owe a lot of my victories to her truth be told." Everyone stood around confused, expecting a different answer. There's absolutely no way she could JUST be his partner they look too much ali-

             "Al, is that.. is that all she is?" [Y/N] sent vaggie daggering eyes as a warning not to continue her statement. Getting the hint, Vaggie backed off and went to sit on the couch in the center of the room. "Nevermind, forget I said anything."   

              "Hey [Y/N], it's been a few months. How you holding up. Still getting into trouble I hear." Husk gives the fox demon some pats on the head.

               "It's nice to see you again Husker, I would like to thank you for looking out for me these past few years." Her grin grew looking up at the fluffy demon.

             "Just doing what the boss told me." Alastor often had souls he was contracted with look after her in his absence. There wasn't much he could do, but knowing she was safe and sound and thriving eased his cold heart. It wasn't often he found himself tied to someone. But there he was, worried for the safety of someone else. A child no less. It took a while to understand his feelings but he eventually did accept it. He cared about someone other than himself.

               Introductions to the residents went smoothly, all of them having such lively personalities she thought. What an amazing new family to have. Besides missing Mama, this was much better than what she had in life ironic as it is.

           The times were changing and everything felt still, peaceful. [Y/N] had an amazing new family and business. Angel Dust being like an amazing big brother and Charlie like an amazing older sister. However the biggest change was how close she got to Alastor. He insisted her bedroom be near his radio tower so he could watch over her. It was so out of character for the residents that have only known him since he joined the hotel staff.

              She was back to being glued to his hip. Her charm helping to gain more residents with her adorableness. It brought on a whole lot of business deals for the feared radio demon as well. Everything was perfect. Something still weighed on [Y/N]'s heart. Alastor needed to know the truth. Why the two of them have such a strong connection. And why they can't seem to ever let each other go. It's not something easily brought up in conversation. Thankfully, luck was on her side one day during one of their business outings.

           "So.. do we have a deal?" Alastor held his hand out to damaged overlord. The enemy's eyes flickered over to the fox demon, causing a distraction. Long enough for his partner to sneak a gun to the young girl's temple. Her composure stabled, a smile creeping on her face.

            "Before I agree to this deal, you are going to hear me out. Or my partner here will end the little girl's life. And you'll be pickingup brain matter off the ground." Alastor's eye twitched, returning his hands to the top of his cane. His expression eased back into his typical smile, seeing her unfazed by the imminent threat.

         "Fine. What do you want?" The man smiled seeing Alastor accept his conditions.

           "[Y/N]. I want the girl." The Radio Demon's breath hitched in his throat upon hearing the request. Never. Never in a million years, he thought. "You see that BITCH had me killed. Secretly drugging me for a year. Didn't think I would have noticed, huh? She never payed for it, she never had to answerfor her crime. Got her out of that shithole of a foster care and this is what I get?"

            He forcibly grabbed the collar of her prim and proper dress, picking her up to his face. Her ears folded to the back of her head, scowling at the man now. "You were going to make me a child bride."

         "You are a woman. You do what I say. If you don't accept my proposal, I'll tell daddy here your little secret. Won't he be surprised." Her eyes turned red at his words, both her and Alastor, in his demon form, shoving an arm through the man's chest in unison. All he felt in that moment was fear, dying for a second time.

            It took a second for the man's words to process in Alastor's head. Secret? What secret? He didn't want to pry but it was obviously tearing [Y/N] up inside. Her expression said it all. All he wanted was to know she was okay. It was time to let him know. And whatever decision he made, she was going to be okay with.

           "There's something I need to tell you."

           "Darling, you don't have to tell me anything if you are not comfortable. That fuck was just trying to get under your skin." And it worked.

             "No. You need to know." [Y/N]'s lip began to quiver in fear. Scared she was suddenly going to be a disappointment. How could she keep this a secret for so long. He had the right to know. Now. "My name is [first name] [Shared last name]. I..  I am your daughter."

                The gears in his head turned as he tried to process the new information. When something suddenly clicked in his head. The love of his life just before he died, was constantly sick and had been for a few weeks. Alastor had just thought she had a cold and constantly doted on her, trying to provide the best medicine he could.. hm.. find. She never took it thankfully. She was pregnant.

           He hadn't thought about it before now but it has come to his attention that the reason why he cared for this child so much was because she reminded him of his wife. She was careful with every decision, she was always calm in every situation she's been in, and they both had that beautiful fire in their eyes. The fire that let everyone know that they weren't going to submit to nobody. The dynamic between him and his wife wasn't much different from the dynamic between him and his daughter.

              Why hadn't Alastor seen it before. [Y/N] was obviously named after his mother. The girl was literally his mini me. He couldn't help but let a tear or two drop from his eyes before bending his knees to look at her at her level.

            "Tell me... what uh. What happened to your mother?" Alastor held the girl's cheek in his hand caressing it gently and wiping away her own tears, slightly smearing the blood on his hand.

             "Mama died of the influenza virus when I was 10. I'm sure she's in Heaven, having the time of her life." Alastor pulled his daughter into a tight embrace, never wanting to let go.

            "After all this time, I've had a precious piece of her with me. And I won't ever leave you alone again."

A/N: Yall let me know if you liked this concept, this was fun to do. I know it's kind of out of character for Alastor but I hope it healed something in y'all with daddy issues 🙏

[wordsbymae]

Saviour Complex- goddess!Reader x Warrior

Plot: Reader is a young goddess, still yet to come into her full power. The patron goddess of innocence and compassion, she resides deep within the forest, caring for any lost souls who come her way. Destruction finds its way to her lands, as the Emperor's men flood the forest, tasked with cutting down anyone who refuses to denounce their heathen ways. One warrior finds the reader's temple, and tasks himself with 'saving' the reader from herself.

TW: Loosely based on posiden and medusa, which if you know is a trigger warning all on its on, SA, Implied non/con, talks of religion and religious genocide. Neither the warrior's or reader's religions (so to speak) are actual practised or once practiced religions. They are completely made up. Sexual talk. This fic is from the warrior's point of view so very much misogynistic, ignorant, and him being a dick. Also breeding is mentioned (a few times, opps) I see the warrior as Pedro Pascal as Pero Trovar

Notes: This was meant to be priestess reader but I liked this idea better. Enjoy!

He would hardly call the temple before him a temple. It was nothing more than some stones and arches pilled together, hidden under the canopy of a great oak. It was not as old as the other temples he and his comrades had pulled down. The other's, older and more grand than the one in front of him, were infested by savage heathens. They had been dozens of them milling around the great stone pillars. Some leaving tokens of good faith, other's seeming to be in constant service to their wild gods.

This land he found himself in was not under the watchful gaze of the Eye. Nor were they subjects of the Emperor. Instead they worshipped petty gods and goddesses, born from mortal parent's, given gifts of power from Mother Wild. The gifts given depended on their actions as growing gods. Raised as mortals until their 20th nameday, when Mother Wild gives them her final gift, immortality. At least, immortality to a point.

They age as mortals do, but the hands of time pass ever slowly by. As they watch their family and friends grow grey and old, only days have the wild gods aged. It is said that they can one day grow old, grey and tired, succumbing to death as all living things do. But none had ever yet to reach such an age. Gods were able to be killed but it took strength and numbers to do so, and the sword of Caleen, the first wild god ever born. Caleen's own blood had been mixed with the metal, creating a sword capable of penetrating through the gifts given to them. The sword, gifted to him by the Emperor, lay dormant in its sheath by the warrior's side. It was the only method known to truly kill a wild god.

Until then, the only way to defeat a god without the sword was to force them to act in a way that went against their patronage. Salios, once god of law and order, had his gifts ripped from him by Mother Wild, when he unjustly killed an innocent man. Without his gifts, age and sickness came for him thousands, if not hundreds of thousands, of years before he should have perished as a god. Yet such an act had not occurred for hundreds of years, least of all forced by human hand. So these wild gods reigned over their forgotten wood, almighty in power and reverence.

It was heresy.

These 'almighty' beings were nothing but demons, given unholy power by the forces of darkness. Born human, yet corrupted by power. It was unnatural, it was all that went against the teachings of the Eye. Humans were sinful creatures, and the more power one had, the more corrupted they became.

The warrior grimaced as he walked up to the temple. A stupid move if he was being honest. He was here alone after being separated from his battalion. But he needed a place to shelter the coming storm, the air thick with the scent of rain. He would rather face a barbarian than freeze in the wilderness. The temple seemed to be empty, no worshippers leaving offers or priests caring after the god. It was quiet and lonesome. Yet strangely welcoming. He could feel warmth emerging from inside the temple, the scent of delicate florals dancing through the air.

He hesitated at the threshold of the temple, it was clean and well looked after. The walls were lined with soft candlelight, and murals of prancing deer and maidens dancing through the woods. A statue of a woman stood silent in the middle, bathed in dark sunlight by a round hole in the roof. The statue was covered in crowns of flowers. Some placed on her bowed head, others hooked onto her arms as they reach outwards, palms facing towards the sky. Gifts of pearls, lilies and feathers of pure white were placed delicately at the foot of the statue.

He did not care to learn these savage gods names. There were hundreds of them, some more powerful than others. Some given patronage over small, worthless things. He had laughed for hours when he discovered that there was a patron god of footprints. Whoever this temple was erected for, was loved yes, but not revered.

The warrior walks deeper into the temple, becoming enveloped in a sense of peace and compassion at the care given to this little goddess. He grunts in frustration, these stupid gods and their stupid 'gifts'. When he and his brothers in arms desecrated the patron god of fear's temple, the battle was nearly lost as they nearly fell to the wild gods powers. Fear racing through their ranks. Just being in the presence of a god was enough for their powers to linger in the air, effecting a mortal humans thoughts and feelings.

This little goddess must still be here.

Rain began to fall from the heavens, it came down with a fury. Yet, the rain that fell through the hole came down in fat, gentle drops upon the statue of the goddess. Water drippled down her stone face, the warrior had to admit this little goddess was quite the beauty. If her statue was anything to go by. He walks deeper into the sanctuary, closer towards the statue. He stops just in front of her image, breathing in deeper at what he can only imagine is her scent, sweet yet comforting, there was an earthiness to it too. He reaches out to caress the stone cheek of his little goddess. What a pretty thing she was.

He kneels to take in the sight of the gifts offered to her. There were the pearls, feathers and lilies he had seen before. But now he could see spools of white wool, wrapped in ribbon, and carvings of hearts, flowers and dozens of names circling the statue.

Lightly touching the most prominent of the carved names, he allowed himself a grin. He had found the wild goddess of innocence and compassion.

He had found you.

You were the youngest of the gods, only decades since you were gifted your immortality. Yet, you had quickly become beloved by your worshippers. The patron goddess of innocence and compassion, you resided deep within the forgotten woods, caring for the animals of the forest and any travellers who crossed your path. It is said that only those in needing of help or guidance, and children looking for a home could find you. The delicate smell of flowers leading the way to your temple. The names carved upon the stone at your feet were those you had cared for over the years. Travellers lost and afraid. Children without parents or care. Women hiding from vengeful men. And men scarred by life itself. All found their way to you, to your compassionate and pure hands.

You were the last of the major gods that the warrior and his men were yet to find. Your brothers and sisters before you had fallen. Some had run like cowards leaving their temples, and their followers, to burn into the night. Others, slaughtered by his hand. Time may only harm the wild gods so much, but Caleen's sword is a deadlier foe than time itself. It filled him with joy remembering plunging Caleen's own sword into the first wild god's heart. He was the first of the wild gods and as such he was the first to fall.

The warrior stood to his full height quickly as soft footsteps made their way through the temple. They came to a stop, the owner hidden by darkness still.

Outside the storm raged on.

"That you little goddess?" the warrior jested, hand coming to rest lazily on his sword's pummel. He stepped around the statue, giving a slight kick at a doll that was laid carefully at its feet.

The sound of hesitant shuffling could be heard. His little goddess was nervous.

"May I see your face, dear one? I have come a long, long way to find you. I wish not to leave this place without seeing your face, it would break this poor soldiers heart" he pouted in fake hurt, creeping towards you as a wolf moves closer to its prey.

"Who are you?" you ask, voice calm and strong. Yet, he could sense fear in your words.

"Just a poor soldier, a lost traveller if you will. Seeking the care and compassion of your grace" he answers, bowing slightly. He toys with his pummel, he had a feeling he would not need to draw it this day.

"Are you hurt?" you plead, taking a closer step towards him, your sense of empathy and compassion shinning through.

The warrior saw his chance, and he was going to take it.

"Not physically your grace, but I have not yet broken my fast or had a drop of water in days." he furrows his brow, grimacing and holding his stomach with his free hand.

"Oh! Your poor thing!" you exclaim, rushing forward to meet him. Once in the light, the warrior damned the creator of the sculpture for failing to capture your beauty. The statue was nothing in comparison to you. Your hair was thick and healthy, framing your face perfectly. Your skin soft and supple. Lips dewy and oh so kissable.

Your were the most beautiful woman he had seen in his entire life.

And here you were, all his for the taking. You were dressed as a goddess deemed fit, perfectly tailored and fetchingly so. But all he could think about was ripping it from you in a daze of lust. You rushed up to him and guided him deeper into your temple. He only realised that the temple was much larger than it seemed when he was outside. These wild gods and their tricks. You cooed to him the entire time. Stating there would be a warm bath and fresh fruit and clear spring water for him in his room. You hadn't even noticed his weapon, or if you had, you truly were the patron god of innocence.

He allowed you to fuss over him. Allowed you to lead him deeper into your temple, until you reached an open court yard, filled with plants of all colours and sizes, soft grass below his feet. At one end a statue of Mother Wild stood, vines and flowers blooming across her figure. In the centre of it was a beautiful flowering tree, more gifts had been left here to.

He stopped you from leading him further on, his eyes set on this tree. There was magic in its very fibre, unnatural power. He could feel it.

"Everything ok soldier?" you try, hand coming to rest on his back. He flinches at the contact, it was so soft and kind. No one had touched him with such care before.

"What is this tree?" he turns to you.

"Oh! Its a magnolia tree" you grin

"No, I know that, why is it here, and why.." he stops himself, he was going to ask you why he felt power radiating from it. "why are there gifts at its base."

You give him a soft smile, gently grabbing his hand you lead you to its base. You softly bring yourself and him to the ground. White flowers fell softly to the ground. You reached a hand out to touch the bark, closing your eyes, before reopening them to look at the warrior.

"Here, give me your hand"

Without thought he places his hand in yours.

What wicked spell have you put him under.

And why does he not care to know.

With your gentle touch on his, the warrior felt heat rise deep inside him. You placed his hand on the bark, yours overlapping his.

"Do you feel it?" you whisper, voice soft and kind.

Of course he could feel it. Pure innocence, unbridled compassion and love.

He hated it.

"This tree is an extension of myself. The day I was born, when my parent's realised who and what I was, they planted this tree. They understood that they and all those who I love would grow old, die and leave me alone. This was their way of giving me a companion. The day I received my gifts and my patronage was the day I laid my parents to rest under this tree's shadow."

He watches in silence as tears well up in your eyes.

"I hadn't even turned four and ten springs yet, when...when they attacked. They were raiders from the south. Brutes, really. My parent's told me to flee, but there were younger children, pregnant women and injured men who couldn't flee, or didn't know where to flee to. So while the warriors in my village tried the best they could to defend us. I went back and forth between this tree and the village, carrying, dragging and leading all those I could to the safety of the great oak that shadows my temple. When I went back the last time, there was nothing left. Our warriors were slain and my parents...."

You break off, tears trickling down. He feels the sudden urge to wipe them from your cheek. He lets himself have the honour of doing so, and your let yourself have the pleasure of him touching you.

"Anyway, there wasn't much else I could do, so I brought them here, buried them, and cared for the survivors the best I could. It was then I was given my gifts, for my compassion for my people and my innocence in the face of death, I was given my patronage. We rebuilt our village, and life was good. But the years after I was given my final gift, were... difficult to say the least. Watching my friends grow old, have families of their own. Then watching their children age and grow grey. I... it was difficult."

You give him a pointed stare, now turning your back onto the tree and rested upon it. He removes his hand from the bark, mirroring your actions.

"Can I tell you a secret?" you plea, eyes big and soft.

"Of course my little goddess, I will take it to my grave." he sternly replies, practically giving you his oath as a holy warrior of the Eye. You thought he was joking, jesting with you after such an emotional story. You gave him a giggle and playfully smacked his chest.

"No need for that, but thank you." you trail off, thoughts of long ago in mind. He nudges you softly, eager to learn your secret.

You look back up and him and sigh, turning off into space.

"Sometimes, when I have no one to look after, and its been months, sometimes years, even, since someone has walked through my temple's door. I wish I wasn't born a goddess. I wish I could grow old, fall in love, marry, have children of my own." you look down, playing with your hands.

The warrior was troubled, yet excitement grew. You could be saved. You wished to be without the corruption of the dark forces that ran through your very being.

"But you could start a family. I have heard tales of demigods"

"Yes, but I can't" you stress turning to him. "I am the goddess of innocence, not just compassion. To bare a child would mean I am no longer innocent, therefore my powers would be stripped from me. I would be mortal again."

You huff in frustration. Even if you were able to have a child, it would still grow old, and you would be left to bury another one of your kin below your beloved tree.

The warrior was delighted. Overjoyed, perfectly happy with this news. Some gods had gifts that were hard to strip from them. How do you make the god of footprints go against footprints? Cut off their feet? Unless....

No he's getting distracted. Here he was being given his own gift, from his god. The Eye was testing him, for sure. Allow a wild goddess to continue her wicked magic, or save the mortal within. You already told him you wished to be free of your curse, the burden placed on you the moment you were born. All he had to do was take your maidenhead. Put his seed in your womb and watch it grow. And what a fine mother you would be. You had spent decades being a mother to hundreds, so what more a burden would a few of your own be. In fact he was sure your would revile in it.

You were practically begging him to fill you with his seed, with those big, soft eyes and those curves that screamed at him to take you. He was without a wife, he would have to break you in for sure. You were a wild one of course. But with a few whelps to look after and one surely in your belly, how much could you defy him?

His cock began to stir. His eyes laden with lust. You look up at him once more, brow furrowing at his darkened eyes.

"Is everything okay soldier?" you sweetly ask, actually concerned for his wellbeing.

"Let me give you the life you want, little heathen" he begs, pushing you down onto the soft grass below the tree.

"What? No! Get off!" you plead, pushing against him. He tightens his grip on your wrists.

"Give me the honour of cleansing you of your dark powers, instead allow me to gift you the honour of carrying my seed." He growls, coming down to give you a lust filled kiss.

You bite his tongue with a vengeance, the taste of blood trickles onto your tongue.

"Mother!" you scream, turning onto your belly. Reaching for the silent statue of Mother Wild. She sat impartial, watching silent and cold. You begin to sob, as the warrior pulls your hips and ass into his crotch.

"Shh, shh little goddess, it will all be over soon. You shall be my sweet wife and you shall grow fat with my child." he comforts, his words tasting like iron on your lips.

"No!" you cry, elbowing him in the nose. You get up to run, straight towards Mother Wild, you drop in front of her and beg for her help.

"Help me Mother Wild. Please!"

You were only gifted the power of healing and other small gifts that now seem useless. What could were they against a man like this? The warrior gets up with blood streaming down his chin.

"My! The little heathen has some bite, huh" he sneers, pulling his sword from its sheath. You turn to look at him in fear, surely that was not what you think it is.

"Recognise this? I drove it through your first wild gods heart, and many more of your brother and sisters since then. I wish not to harm you little goddess, but if you do not renounce your claim to your wicked birth right, then I will be forced to kill you." He almost grins at the sight of you kneeling and afraid.

'That's it heathen, fear me, fear the holy Eye.'

You turn to Mother Wild once more, pleading and begging for protection.

Nothing happens.

You sob as you are ripped from your place by the statue and dragged back to the ground under your tree. You are pushed onto the soft grass, for a moment you forget what is happening, and you are young again, watching the sky through the leaves of your tree. Your parents are still alive, you had yet to be given your gifts, and you can kid yourself into thinking life will be like this forever. You are broken from your daze as Caleen's sword is plunged into the soft dirt by your head, and you are quickly reminded what madness you found yourself in. You stare up at the warrior in front of you, fat tears rolling down your cheeks. He kneels down onto you. His blood drools out of his mouth, dripping down his chin. His eyes are filled with lust and pride.

What an evil, wicked man.

You choke back a sob in fear of what is to happen next.

"My dear one, do not cry for the life you are renouncing, cry with joy for the life we are to create." He shushes you gently, a rough hand caressing your tear stained cheeks.

"What poetry is this, that you should lose your gift of innocence the very place it was given"

[acradelius]

Good morning or Good evening ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ , can I request a Moira O'Deorain x Fem!Reader? , where the reader is kidnapped and violent things happen but she comes to our rescue so brave and concerned? thank yoooooouuuu ♡♡♡♡♡

"I'm Here Now, Coinín"

Fandom: Overwatch / Overwatch 2

Pairing: Moira O'Deorain x Gender Neutral! Reader

Rating: Lime [🟢] - (Equivalent to PG-13)

Warnings/Mention Ofs: Established Relationship, Female x Gender Neutral! Reader, They/Them Pronouns For Reader, "Lost Puppy/Blind Follower"! Reader If You Squint, Kidnapping, Mention of Interrogation, Mention of Pharmacological Interrogation/Torture/Methods, Forced Drug Usage, Mentions Of Broken Bones, Mention Of Deprivation Of Senses, Mentions Of Waterboarding, Caring/Gentle! Moira, Slight Praise.

Word Count: 951 Words

If you'd like to be tagged for all posts, certain fandom posts, or certain character posts then feel free to message me!

Whether it would be traversing throughout the nine layers of Hell itself or going on what is hoped to be a simplistic shopping trip to the local farmer’s market, they could be found directly by her side. It could be labeled as a suicide mission with a ninety-nine percent chance of not making it back alive or sitting next to each other on the couch in the laboratory office, they could still be found directly by her side. It was quite obvious that it didn't matter the location or the situation, (Y/N) could always be found directly by Moira’s side. Therefore, when Moira had left the disappointment that she called Overwatch, (Y/N) uprooted themselves and followed her into the hands of Talon without any questions or hesitations.

Yet, being a part of Talon’s inner council meant that there were some things that had to be discussed or dealt with where only Moira could attend, having to leave (Y/N) alone for the night to entertain themselves until Moira was to get back. “The less people that are aware of the situation, the less danger that you will be in, my Coinín,” Moira would respond when having been asked by (Y/N) why they couldn’t attend as well. Typically that would mean that they would have to entertain themselves within the comforts of one of the many safehouses that Talon occupied, but (Y/N) was feeling more adventurous, deciding to spend the night exploring the city. Unfortunately, the night didn’t end as (Y/N) would’ve expected, and ended up getting captured by some former Overwatch operators to be interrogated for information about Talon and their next plans of operation.

How long has it been since that night? How long has it been since (Y/N) had been snatched away from their late night stroll around the city to pass the time until Moira was to come back home? These Overwatch operators, some of them being former coworkers and former companions, refused to tell (Y/N). It didn’t help that the interrogation and the increasingly violent methods that they were using in an attempt to extract information was making it seem as if time was going by ever so slowly, but that was also a part of the methods as well. Each different person brought in to interrogate (Y/N) had various methods to use, some more dangerous and risky than the others, but they all knew that they couldn’t just outright kill (Y/N) as a final tactic.

Using pharmacological torture upon them and trying to pry information while (Y/N)’s in a drugged out haze, breaking bones varying from fingers and toes to an arm and a leg, trying to deprive them of their senses to where they could only focus on the darkness and the pain but forcing (Y/N) to stay awake to endure it all. Now they are attempting to force (Y/N) to submit and give them the information that they’re seeking through waterboarding, listening as the former member coughs out and gasps for air through the drenched cloth on their face. While there’s an expectation of that extremely cold water to attempt to suffocate them once again, that expectation never comes. There’s some slight confusion, a slight jolt from (Y/N) as there’s fingers frantically brushing across their skin, beginning to pull at the binds that hold them down to the chair and the items that were used to deprive (Y/N) of their senses.

It takes some moments for some stability to come to (Y/N) from being disoriented by the sudden rush of their senses coming back to them, grunting slightly while scrunching their eyes closed at the blinding light that surrounds them. There’s a voice, a voice that’s recognizable but between the blaring alarms, the undeniable sounds of fighting taking place within the background, it’s hard to make out what exactly is being said. “..M-Moira..?” Moia’s name slips past (Y/N)’s lips in a soft whisper while lifting their head in order to look at the person, and being confirmed that’s exactly who it was. “Don’t you worry, little Coinín. I’ll be taking you back home, making sure that you get the best treatment.” Typically being calm outwardly, it doesn’t take much for (Y/N) to know that internally Moira’s panicking, concerned about the amount of damage that’s been done, but she continues to hold her head up high and deal with the occasional enemy that crosses her path as she proceeds to carry (Y/N) to the dropship for evacuation.

“..Are you absolutely sure that you’re not in need of anything to eat or drink? Maybe even just a couple more pain killers to dull the pain some more?” Moira questions her injured partner within her arms once they make it into the dropship and settle into some seats. Despite that there’s the fabrication of giving life and taking life at Moira’s hands, their gentle as they caress (Y/N)’s cheeks, gentle brushing across their skin to access damages, Moira healing what she can of (Y/N)’s body at that moment. There’s a smile upon (Y/N)’s lips as they shake their head in response to Moira’s question, struggling to keep their eyes open due to the physical and mental exhaustion they were dealing with. “You’re doing well, you know that? Doing so well, I’m so proud of you for holding out as long as you did despite what they’ve done to you.” There’s a smile that graces Moira’s lips, a rare occurrence, before she leans down and places a gentle kiss upon (Y/N)’s forehead, running her fingers through their hair. “ Now, rest.”

[my-makeshift-masquerade]

Springdad AU Headcanons Up For Grabs

Why? Because I can? Credit for the AU to @skeletoninthemelonland as per usual! While trying to figure out how my OC would fit into this universe my love of worldbuilding got in the way… So these headcanons may not even be accurate or confirmed by the AU’s original creator. They are just ideas I’m throwing at the wall.

General Headcanons

For some reason, (cough cough this mysterious hunter character cough cough) I suspect there is a dark history of how humans treated these sapient humanoid animals in the past.

Perhaps hunting them used to be a lot more common? Perhaps they were sold to rich humans or circuses once upon a time? (I am talking like a hundred or so years ago, here…)

I imagine the two groups coexisting or having blended families is relatively new in society at large, only happening in the last century. Maybe some on both sides are still hesitant about it or outright against it.

Not to get too political, but I can see their being a lot of bigotry around it in cities at least. The rural areas were likely founded by the sapient humanoid animals, so they would be more tolerant.

Orphanages end up with a lot more orphans like Evan and Micheal than they do human orphans for this reason. There is still a lot of shady stuff happening underground that these kids end up being rescued from.

On a more positive note, I imagine these blended families are the best sorts of families: bound by love and not blood. The best family is the one you choose after all! They typically seek out rural communities to live in peace.

Staff at these orphanages have a lot of methods to weed out suspicious figures who may want to harm the orphans, and they especially look out for any human only wanting to adopt an animal orphan.

Parents like Henry and William are beloved by the orphanages for giving any child a chance at a good home, regardless of species. Even if they may only adopt one or a few, those kids have a good family now.

Lots of seasonal festivals happen in the rural communities and raise money for any nearby orphanage, as many residents build their blended families through adoption. This is mostly lower level though, and doesn’t reach those like the directors.

Rebecca Backstory Headcanons

She was taken from her biological parents by humans. Perhaps hunters? After they killed her parents, they had planned to sell her off to the highest bidders who could do with her as they wished.

The little rabbit was neglected emotionally. Though all her physical needs were met to keep her alive, she wouldn’t have anyone come comfort her if she cried, or show her actual genuine love.

These humans were soon discovered and charged with kidnapping, leading to Rebecca ending up at the orphanage. This was around the same time Micheal and Evan arrived as well.

The only other orphans she really warmed up to were Evan and Micheal. They were the new arrivals and got lumped together often, especially Evan and Rebecca, who had to share a bed to save space.

During the orphanage fire, Rebecca was one of the few children unaccounted for. Her instincts to hide made her impossible to find until after the fire was completely extinguished.

She did go to the hospital briefly for some minor injuries, then returned to the orphanage to find Evan and Micheal were gone. This led her to feel more afraid even as the other orphans tried to help.

This little bunny is observant and timid, always on alert. She enjoys blankets and stuffed animals/pillows. She cries quietly due to her past teaching her nobody comes if she cries loudly.

Springdad doesn’t know her past just yet, but he could always ask someone who does. Micheal knows the general idea of her past since he helped watch her and Evan at the orphanage.

Rebecca only started to trust William after Evan showed how comfortable he was. From there, the other rabbit instantly became her new guardian. She is slowly bonding with Elizabeth and Alice, too!

[byrdstrolls]

These people are who you know them to be. This story will begin the only way it can. 

Hanagi Cheong is at work, messaging Bee on her computer. She is typing, slowly, methodically. Sometimes pausing to simply stare at the screen. Sometimes pausing to backspace and start over. No matter how she spins it, it will be clear to the violetblood she is in desperate need of someone competent in statistics. Bee’s minor Hanagi has a habit of mocking as useless. She will likely not shut up about it for a thousand sweeps. Yet this silly, caliginous worry is but a mask for a deeper, more pressing one.

[HEY] The message reads. [I’VE BEEN FUCKING, SIFTING THROUGH THE NUMBERS WE GOT FROM WHEN I DID THAT HACKING AT THE ACADEMY. ABOUT ABIDEL, AND THE INTOXICANT, AND I COULD USE A FRESH SET OF EYES TO CONFIRM YOU’RE SEEING WHAT I’M SEEING.]

The doctor's head rests on her arched hands, the husktops glow lighting up her glasses. How much exactly does she trust the violetblood progress here? She does not worry about Bee turning them into the fleet. She worries about her slipping onto this project and gripping it so tightly in manic paranoia and fear and guilt she doesn’t sleep for weeks. But how much longer can she talk to nobody about what she has found, what she has seen? Monark is not the only one susceptible to paranoia. And every time she dares venture into these files, Hanagi only finds more reasons to be afraid. Slowly, she lifts her head, and presses send. 

[are you Sure?] Bee answers, a couple minutes later. 

[WHY ASK ME? DO YOU THINK YOU CAN HANDLE IT?]

[i’m not always a Successful Arbitrator of what i can and Cannot handle.]

[WELL NEITHER AM I. YOU KNOW I WOULDN’T BE HERE IF I WASN’T DESPERATE.]

[am I interpreting it here correctly, that you’re coming to me with a Statistics related problem? :)<]

[HA HA HA. LIVE IT UP.]

[It’s Almost As If There Are Compelling Reasons For Someone To Minor In Such A Thing]

[DON’T TAKE THIS JUST OUT OF SPITE AND PRIDE IF YOU CAN’T HANDLE IT.]

[i can handle Math.]

[IT’S NOT JUST MATH. IT’S A LOT OF SHIT. OKAY? IT’S HORRIFYING.]

[hanagi,]

[i’ve got your back. i’ll tap out if i need. Okay?] 

Hanagi pauses, and then links her to the drive where her ongoing snooping has been taking place.

.

.

.

.

.

[Hanagi.] Bee says, several hours later.

[UH OH, WHY ARE WE USING THE MORE SECURE CHANNEL?]

[when you asked me to Confirm what you were seeing in this data, what Exactly did you want me to confirm?]

[WELL, FROM MY BAREBONES CURSORY GLANCE IT REALLY SEEMED LIKE THEY SAID SHE HAD KILLED LIKE, FORTY SEVEN PSSIONICS IN THE LAST SWEEP. WHICH FELT VERY HIGH TO ME. I COULDN’T STOMACH LOOKING DEEPER]

[i don’t have Good News]

[LAY IT ON ME MISS STATISTICS.]

[i don’t know if this is complicated enough to Actually count as statistics, Doctor, more me Looking at something you didn’t want to look at, but sure]

[in ∅ ∈ KFx]

[those forty seven encrypted files are not individual patients. they are groups.]

[WHAT?]

[she killed 47 groups of four pssionics. there would be two controls and two standards in each group. after the two standards died, and she had her data, she’d make the remaining unaffected control trolls the new standard group for two new control pssionics. she repeated this process 47 times, killing a total of 98 pssionics.]

[...]

[FUCK]

[the amount of energy she’s siphoning off into those two suns. is Insane. you were right about her bullshitting her averages. whatever she’s doing to those pssionics, Really Works.]

[YOU’RE SURE?]

[that’s not even the half of it, Hanagi. can you come Home? i feel like i’m losing my mind looking at these files.]

[OF COURSE.]

.

.

.

.

.

“You should really go to bed, Hanagi,” Bee says, several hours later.

“I can’t believe you’re fucking saying that to me.” Hanagi retorts. 

“How the student becomes the teacher.” The violetblood says, continuing to pin stuff on the ongoing corkboard the two of them had put up. 

“I’ll be fine.” 

“You have work in four hours.”

“And you don’t?”

“We’re… in over our heads.”

“You think I’ve never pulled a fucking all nighter before? I went to med school.” 

“I mean we're in over our heads with this, Hanagi.” She huffs, rapping her knuckle on the board. “So The Intoxicant has, for sweeps, been synthesizing Abidel’s blood to create a dangerous addictive and incredibly powerful pssionic enhancer.”

“So?” She retorts.

“So how are we going to get Abby out?” She says. “WIthout alerting her? Without her turning up every rock in the universe to find the troll on top which this entire deranged plan centers?” Bee says, gesturing. 

“A bridge we’ll cross when we get to it.” 

“Why am I the voice of reason here?” She says. 

“It was your plan. You’d give up so easily?”

“We’d need help to do this. A lot of it.” She answers. 

“How can you just look at this shit? I’m a doctor. You’re a scientist.” 

“A stretch of the definition of the word. I had a bachelors. You don’t need a job to feel empathy. I’m a person, Hanagi. Any person with a bloodpusher couldn’t stand to look at this but needs to. If I didn’t want to be here I wouldn’t be.” 

“I’ll call in sick,” Hanagi says. 

“Your grave” She answers. And the girls continue to work in silence. 

.

.

.

.

.

“You get it too, don’t you?” Hanagi says, curled up in a ball as the sun sets, marking the early beginning of the next night. “You understand from these charts-” 

“I know how close she is.” Bee answers, morosely. As much of a statistician as she ever was.

“What are you looking at?” Cheong prompts, glancing over her shoulder. 

“Longse’s history with the fleet. So we know what we’re dealing with.” She replies, typing. “You know. Big picture.” 

A lot of the documents of The Intoxicants rise to power are public. A career that kicked off with a long stint in the propaganda ministries, an exponential rise to head of the department. Only for her to resign at the top of her game. A grant for scientific achievement and funding, a long hundred sweeps spent in the field, where Longse would throw out new chemical and physical weapon patents every ten or so sweeps. This constant juggling of her life as a general, and a scientist, and a politician, continues for centuries. Longse seems well inclined to give others the spotlight. She has quietly been perfecting her work for a lifetime, her accomplishments becoming more impressive as the centuries pass by. 

Right about 50 sweeps ago, there is a black hole in the data. 

It makes sense, knowing how much about this colony's existence had been carefully kept from the public eye. Maybe they should have quit looking then. Yet, with the morbid curiosity that keeps trolls eyes on car wrecks happening on the street, the two women keep digging. Into deeply classified documents. By about 25 sweeps ago, the war on this planet had been long since over. But that doesn’t mean The Intoxicant stopped bombing it, no. The entire planet was repurposed as a massive weapons testing ground for the inventor, getting her fleet patents at an unprecedented rate, until eventually, she blew it up, six sweeps ago, beyond repair. You see, after Hascha had been discharged from the fleet for his embarrassing surrender and consequent defeat, the fleet's ruling control over Corsica had been given fully to Faeria Longse. 

They are silent as they both stare at Bee’s Husktop screen. They know the name of Mondes' colony as well as any of the Cheongs. The two of them remain here for a long while, or a short while. In the end they can’t recall how long it was. The borders of minutes are blurred the less a mind has sleep. It’s even more difficult to define time when trying to understand something that feels so much bigger than it. It has started to really sink in for both of them now. The genocide of the past. The genocide of the present. 

The looming chilling prophecy of the genocide of the future. 

.

.

.

.

.

There is a knock at the door. 

“Hanagi?” Mondes asks. 

“Yeah? What? What are you doing up this late?” she calls back. 

“I’m up the same time I always am.” The oliveblood says, entering the room the two shared, illuminating it with a sudden burst of hallway light. Hanagi groans, squinting, and Bee hurriedly shuts her husktop. 

“Did you guys stay up all day?” He asks. 

The man stands there for a second, processing what the girls have done to their room. 

“...okay” He says slowly. “Just what exactly am I looking at here?”

“It’s a lot,” Hanagi manages. 

“Yeah, we don’t wanna dump it on you right before class.” Bee pipes up.

“Mondes doesn’t have class.” Hanagi reminds.

“It’s summer” He retorts, folding his arms. “I’ve been out for nearly a perigee. Did you really not notice?” 

“I have a full time job,” Bee says. 

“Fine. I’ll give you that one. But do I really not get an explanation for this? You’re being so suspicious.” 

Hanagi gestures at their asymmetric piles of paper and corkboard.

“This was ME” She defends. “ALL MY shit. And Bee told me to go to bed. I didn’t listen.” 

“You both have work in thirty minutes” Mondes replies. “I’m gonna call you in so you don’t pass out midway through a fitting and put someone's leg on backwards. Or pour boiling coffee on yourself”

“Ha Ha Ha.” Hanagi complains. “Ha. Fine.” 

“Go to bed” Mondes orders. “And as soon as your pans are both working again, tell me what the fuck you’re doing.” He finishes, and exits the room.

.

.

.

.

.

Two six hour naps later, Hanagi sits at the end of the kitchen tables as Bee makes her coffee across the room. 

“I’m trying to think, of how to fucking say this” She exhales. The two of them continue to move through space as if in some kind of shock. Dissociative and careful. 

“Okay” The rust huffs as Bee sets down a mug in front of her. 

“From the beginning,” She says. “When Bee was at the fleet academy she met a limeblood there, Abidel Tevian, a pssionic amplifier who Nandor put through a lot of horrifying cybernetic augmentation to their physical body.” She pauses. 

“...okay” Mondes says, his hands laying immovable at the table. 

“Bee, since she was revived, has wanted to rescue them. I agreed, knowing it would be difficult and maybe risky, but not able to stand such a malpractice, terrifying misuse of prosthetics technology. So lately, I’ve been poking around Fleet files to find more information on this.”

“Okay.” Mondes repeats. 

“And we kind of just found” Hanagi cuts herself off, silent for a moment before continuing.

“-something that really raises both the stakes and the difficulty of this situation.” 

“Ah,” He responds

Hanagi glances at him, and then back at Bee. “Tap out.” She says, requesting Bee take over the explanation. “You know the math better.” She lies, not wanting to dive too deep into what she had seen, that all consuming sinking feeling in her chest.

“Okay.” Bee answers “Do you know the fleet general, The Intoxicant?”

Mondes blinks, momentarily, a rapid surge of emotion consuming him. 

“Yes.” He says quietly. 

The girls share a glance as if not sure how deep Mondes’s knowledge went, not sure how to continue. He doesn’t not elaborate. So, eventually, Bee continues. 

“Okay” She says, poised like a soldier giving a report. Having more practice than Hanagi in weaponizing her detachment against her horror and grief. 

“Since Abby was a grub, The Intoxicant has been synthesizing their blood to make a pssionic enhancer. An incredibly powerful one. That increases output by tenfold. It is addictive to the user, to the point the physical dependance makes their bodies degrade until death. The formula works, Longse is just attempting to make it safe past a certain threshold. She has calculated the budget of the Alternian fleet. She has calculated how much the increased energy output would benefit them financially. And how much the short life spans of pssionics would lose them money. And by way of these variables, and many more, created an …equation” Bee pauses to breathe, for just a moment.

“...An equation that can be solved to discover the ideal number of sweeps the pssionics need to last. If they live to this certain point, that's when the enhancer begins to be well worth its financial detriments, and actually starts saving the fleet a lot of money. After she reaches this point, Longse intends to patent the enhancer, and… roll it out to be used by the fleet. Something that would increase the fleets financial gain from their contest, but also increase the pace the fleet burns through pssionics dramatically. It would make their lives absolutely miserable, and more difficult to escape, due the formula’s addictive qualities, and due to the fleet being the only one that has access to Abidel, and the patent for Culucaminegic Ampheparietakinetic Pssiopote-” She narrates, with all the range of emotion of a text to speech program. 

“You don’t have to say the whole fucking thing, Bee. Longse just calls it CAP in her notes.” Hanagi pitches in, bristling at her formality. 

“I’m sorry.” Bee pauses, continuing to act so reservedly. “CAP’s patent” She says, “I just wanted to give you a better idea of it’s chemical makeup. Longse accomplishing this would be bad, because-” 

“I don’t need to know it’s chemical makeup… But I think I understand why it’s bad.” Mondes says softly. “What are we gonna do?” 

“You’re-” Hanagi stumbles. “Not gonna tell us not to do this shit?” 

“Why would I tell you not to try and stop a genocide?” He says quietly. 

“Okay but” Hanagi stumbles. “The fucking scale of this thing is- are we really gonna play those odds again? We were SECONDS from dying in the prison break.” She says, seeming to have become more trepidatious since getting some real sleep.

“Well,” Bee begins. Funny, how they seem to have switched places in the argument since waking. “Considering-” She continues. 

“I just! I’m a fucking prosthetics doctor! I’m not a fucking, rebel mastermind. We barely scraped by. Barely.” She rambles.

“Give yourself a little credit Hanagi” Bee replies, stubbornly. “You had five nights. You made it work. Even in her most generous estimates, The Intoxicant thinks it will take few perigees for CAP to go public. You had no resources when you broke into the prison. Right now, we have money. We have access to Longse and Nandor’s files. We have connections with several talented individuals. And most importantly. We have time.”

“Says Bee Monark, the voice of reason” Hanagi retorts, bitingly. 

“You said the same thing” She retorts. “Last night. Bridges we’ll cross when we get to them. But now that Mondes is in the room we’re not friends anymore?”

“Did you want me to tell you not to do it?” Mondes answers, after a pause. “Do you want me to say no, it’s totally fine if everyone in this room just forgets what they know? I won’t.”

There is a long silence. Neither Hanagi nor Bee able to think of how to respond to that. Hanagi stares at the foam of her coffee, it is probably getting cold by now. Losing herself in the intricacies of lines of the heart in bubbles. Watching them pop and fade at a snails pace.

“I don’t even know where to fucking start to try.” Hanagi says, setting down her mug, having drunk none of it. “We’d need so many things. We’d need to know a way to get to her satellite without being tracked by the fleet.”

“I can rig Mondes’s ship to be more stealthy.” Bee offers. 

“Okay, but, we still gotta find the plans for the satellite, figure out how to break into it. We might need a guy on the inside, honestly! We gotta figure out how to survive the security measures. How to have alibis. How to keep this all secret after having been- in the public eye for so long!”

“Maybe we could make some kind of smoke screen.” Bee says, ever the tactician. Mondes has stood up silently, and is pacing. 

“Something to distract the Alternian public and cloak our actions.” She elaborates. 

Mondes has pulled a tiny paper card, long since forgotten, from a pocket in his wallet. Holding it in his hands as he paces. 

“Like, start some drama with one of the other siblings or some shit?” Hanagi extrapolates. 

Mondes halts suddenly. 

“Okay” He says. “I’ve got it” 

The other two trolls stare at him. 

“What?” Bee asks. 

The oliveblood sits back down. He places his old music teacher's card on the table. 

“It’s probably get a lot of media attention,” He says. “If I attempted to be the first lowblood to enter a very prestigious orchestra contest, wouldn’t it?”

[rosemaryblossoms]

Once there was a greedy old man who wanted power more than anything, there was something else he wanted but he couldn’t get it with money at all and which made it “difficult” for him. He wanted someone to teach his methods to, Someone to spread his legacy with a bloody red R. He first used a beautiful rose and a magenta buddleia but they weren’t enough for him. Together they were strong but weren’t strong as he wanted to be. They failed him far too many times. He ignored the buddleia and her pleads as well as the handsome rose and left them behind locked up and beheaded Meowth their beloved cat and partner. Later on he found another pretty flower, a pink water lily. She was strong as her two legendary companions and passionate with her work, so he simply plucked her away from them and began to work. His scientists worked and worked to give him the perfect heiress, it was difficult because of how she fought but with a few clips of her petals and she was new. She succeeded at first as her once colorful spirit in her petals slowly died out but she failed her final test so she was locked up with the others, never to go back home again. He was angry, he had succeeded before, why was he failing now he thought. He research and looked over everything until a few colors caught his eye. Red, Bue, and Purple would race his mind. Red, Blue, Red, Purple swirled in his mind like an epiphany. A legend, another Legend, and a determined one to be a legend. The two were strong, the third wasn’t as strong but he had determination to be as strong. He went to his basement to see the others, instead of hushing their shouts and cries of pain he listened only to the water lily like a song, a song he could try to play. One day he went out and played the familiar song to them from a far, each captivated by the familiar call causing them to go into the grasp of the darkness. They were trapped and he knew it, he got them, it was hard with how hard the fought and screamed but he did it, the Pokémon were confiscated and trapped as well but far from their trainers. He finally did it he was going to make the perfect heir and the perfect weapon, it was going to be beautiful, he could just see his future now. The strong figure ruling over under his power, it was so beautiful to him.

When I woke up, I was “beautiful”. I was sore and felt like throwing my guts out at both my feelings and the sight of me. I could still hear there cries and their screams of pain. I could hear there voices in my head screaming at him about what he did to them.

I felt their memories and vibrations of their voices bubbling in my head to the point I felt it was going to burst. I could feel all their tears on my face as I processed every thing when I woke up. As I was trained, a new mind formed with their’s, giving me my own voice in a way slowly but I was yet to fully have my voice because it was taken away from me over and over again. He took away our Freedom, He took away our legacy, and He took us from our families and friends. He took our voices to make a new one. Blue, Silver, Red, The trainers in my head. The ones who guided me to lead him into a false sense of security. We worked together with the others and killed them all dead, they took us from our families so we took them from theirs.

Lavender, Magenta, Purple, Blue, Red, and Green were the last colors they all have seen before going into a deep and permanent sleep. He was the the last one left, and he was dead. But we had no where to go so we made the fucked up facility our home and the Pokéball our beds.

[lya-dustin]

All is bliss

Chapter 6

Rated M🔞

Gif by @alicentloyalist

Taglist: @mercedesdecorazon @darylandbethfanforever9 @aemondx @sweethoneyblossom1

Alicent knows that no matter how much she does to keep Aemma’s tryst with her lover a secret, it will not be a secret to one man.

Larys Strong knew everything and lived in eternal competition with Mysaria of Lys who outwitted him at every turn.

“A fine solution to our prince's problem. Unless the babe is born with a sapphire instead of an eye, no one would be the wiser.” The Master of Whisperers comments as they observe the court from her window.

Aegon had not revealed the identity of Aemma’s lover.

Aegon had said he had found the perfect man for the job and she trusted him with it.

The servants had not seen who left the library as the occupants had left through secret corridors leading to other places in Maegor’s Holdfast.

But nothing can hide from the gods, nor Larys Strong.

Aemond and Aemma were close, how could they not be?

Aemond had been scarcely a year old when Aemma had been born.

They had shared a wetnurse and a cradle.

Rhaenyra had wanted Aemond to wed Aemma even after her sons took his eye.

Alicent knew her only chance to take the crown for Aegon was to marry him to Rhaenyra’s daughter.

It had to be done and look how the gods laugh at her.

Below them Aemma is wooed by the wrong prince.

Aemond offers her a daisy he picked from the small bunch by the bench they sit on.

Aemma gives a small smile in return and cannot look away from him as if wishing to say something, but does not have the courage.

While it is in everyone’s interest that a child is procured and that he looks the right way, Alicent cannot condemn her own son for adultery should it come to that.

The gods laugh at the plans of mortal men.

Aemond says something that has the princess look away with a pained look, but he stops her by gently tilting her chin up.

She fights with herself and yet it is her desire to be loved that wins.

And what better way to say yes than with a kiss.

Aemond is gentle and caring with her, taking things slowly so she cannot run away in fright.

If only, those words can be heard even if no one has spoken.

Alicent had lain with Criston once; she had never experienced a man having such adoration nor desire for her and she knew it could never happen again.

“A shame they could not be wed, your grace, such love should not be someone’s dirty secret.” The Clubfoot said knowing she’d give anything to keep this quiet.

The moontea doesn’t always work, Rhaenyra’s three bastards were proof of that, or so she lied to the knight.

The truth was, Alicent never cared for men.

The night at grandfather’s unused library was a mistake.

A glorious and beautiful mistake, but a mistake.

She had bitten his shoulder to keep herself from crying out his name in ecstasy and she’d wept when he brought her to glory with his tongue on her button.

It had been something she’d treasure for the rest of her life and could never happen again.

And yet when he gives her a daisy to let her know he understood if she said no, she finds herself saying yes.

No one can see them here, so she kissed him like she needed him more than air.

And it feels good, just as it had two nights ago.

She shouldn’t do this.

The rules are different for men and women. He would get a slap on the wrist and she stoned for adultery had they been anyone else.

For members of the royal family even the children born from sin are to be executed.

It was why mother feared the Greens who salivate at the thought of killing them all.

Should their trysts produce a babe, he would be put to death and they would die with him.

She needs a way to prevent it from happening. Luckily many women in court knew of methods they claimed had worked and spoke freely of it in certain company.

But who would be able to tell the child isn’t Aegon’s? A voice in her head asked her.

And wasn’t the Valyrian word for uncle and father the same word?

Mother had used her status and grandfather to get away with her affair, Aemma did not have that card up her sleeve should it happen.

But she does have something else, the fact that Alicent would do anything to protect her sons and Aegon’s claim to the Throne.

Even Otto Hightower could not risk Aegon dying without issue.

If this didn’t run such a high risk for failure, she would laugh at the irony.

“Meet me in my mother’s apartments after supper, no one will bother us there.” Aemma knows there are better places, but that will do for now.

“I need you to cuckold my son.” Alicent had said during their lunch.

She had been reading so she had not paid her much attention, and yet snapped her book shut at her words.

“What?” the princess asked the queen who looks ashamed of herself and yet swallowed such feelings to repeat her words.

“He cannot die without heirs and you would never succeed in seeking out an annulment.” The queen said holding the letters she had written just after meeting with Aemond.

Infertility was a reason to be granted an annulment.

The girl had lied in her letters claiming she may be at fault hoping to marry Aemond instead of having an affair.

But that would never happen.

Her faction needed to uphold Aegon’s rights as a firstborn son.

A second son superseding the first born would have them dropping like flies.

“So you want me to do what you condemn my mother for doing.” Aemma looks at her with a suspicious eyebrow smelling a trap. “I won’t do it, your grace.”

“My son knows you fucked his brother.” Alicent had not wished to play that card, but she must.

She did not want to do this, but she has no choice. “He is willing to allow it for the sake of the crown and because he believes it will make you love him when he pretends to be oblivious to it.”

Aemma would never love Aegon, he was used to having people fawn over him and doing absolutely nothing to deserve it.

His feelings do not matter, only his consent does.

“I cannot take your word for it, your grace. I will speak to Aegon about it.” The princess argued thinking surely this was trap.

“He would deny it. You know he would.” The queen knows her imbecile of a son.

But he is still her son and she loves him enough to damn herself in the seventh pit of hell to make sure he becomes king.

After an indignant silence, Aemma agrees to have Aemond’s child.

“The things I do for you, child.” Teora grumbled as she donned a servant’s clothes and accompanied an incognito princess as they went to an apothecary down in the city.

They came here to find a fertility tonic, or so she told her goodmother, the Kingsguard assigned to them and her husband, who went along with the lie.

When Teora did not buy into her lies, the girl admitted the truth.

She had begun an affair with someone on her goodmother’s suggestion given Aegon’s seed serves no other purpose except for making a mess now.

The queen wants a child and her knowing said child would be bastard born puts them in a bind.

One move against them and the secret is revealed.

So they are to procure the potion the Summer Island Princess uses to keep a good three to five years between pregnancies.

Luckily that Summer Islander she buys it from also sells fertility tonics that don’t work providing a good cover for a good price.

“I must do this, I cannot be turned into a second version of my mother for their personal gain.

Aegon must not have heirs and I cannot have a sword hanging over my neck by giving him one.” The princess said as they took the tonics from the apothecary's wife who gave loud instructions for the tonic she did not buy.

[nebulousfishgills]

🌵

You know what, let's shake it up a little, snippet from my Baldur's Gate 3 playthrough fic since that's currently the only major thing I have going on that I've worked on recently (school, work, and getting on antidepressants saps you, aight?)

It was dark. The area around her rumbled and shook, although she couldn't pinpoint precicely where she was. There was a distinct smell, something putrid and... vaguely garlic-ish. She was aware of her body, standing somewhat upright in... something cylindrical. She flexed her fingers, her eyelids fluttering. It was disorienting, a distinct feeling of almost... emptiness.

She heard a hiss and the walls around her shifted. With a groan, she slightly sat up, her eyes opening. Her vision was blurry, but the world around her was dark save for the spots of fire in the corners. Purple light streamed from various places, lanterns of sorts. She studied the casing she'd been in, the texture something akin to a wet undersea creature. She recognized the structure of the pod, matching the architecture of the room beyond.

Il... Illithid... That's the term, right?

She pushed herself out of the pod and landed on her feet to the floor below. That's when the headache hit her, pounding and humming. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to banish the feeling. All that did was aggrivate the pounding. Though, when she tried to think past the headache, she found there was almost a fog. A void where a large part of her memory should be. It was strange, having no recollection of how she ended up in this place or... really much of anything beyond random bits of irrelevant information. She was able to pull Illithids out of the void, but how she knew such information was lost on her.

As for things about herself, only a few things sprung to mind. She felt magic thrumming beneath her fingertips, an inherent understanding of the... the Weave, that's what it was called. The fabric of magic. She was a sorcerer of sorts, and having rested her hand against her forehead in a futile attempt at banishing the headache, she felt scales. Her magic must have come from a draconic ancestor. The burn in her fingertips told her it was a fire dragon. Though, from the void all she could recall were a few spells. Basic ones as if she were some beginner. How old was she? Twenty-six? Twenty-seven? She shouldn't be a novice spell caster. Yet, all she could recall were five or six basic spells. Children had better knowledge than she did.

Lucky for her, her name didn't seem lost on her. Airetos. At least she had that piece of herself. It didn't come close to answering any of her questions, though. Who was she, how did she end up aboard an Illithid ship? Did someone do this to her? Who?

She felt the blood pulse in her head, somehow both sating and aggrivating her headache. Her limbs twitched, her sharp teeth ground against each other. If someone had done this to her, she would find them and ensure their suffering was long and painful. Airetos indulged herself in at least eight different methods of torture for her faceless attacker. Whipping them into a bloody pulp with their own spine stuck out as a favorite, leaving them to die slowly.

Killing. Now, that sounded like a good idea.

She pondered the beautiful image in her mind for a minute before her lips pursed. Now, while she had very little recollection of much of anything, she knew normal people didn't often indulge in such barbaric fantasies. Then again, maybe she wasn't normal. Something felt very... correct, almost gratifying imagining such things. As natural as breathing.

For the moment, though, such fantasies could only remain fantasies as long as she stood around like an idiot instead of getting her bearing and, perhaps more importantly, escaping. Though she knew little, she did know that nobody that ended up captured by Illithids by choice. It was best to escape as soon as possible, lest something far worse happen.

Whatever the slimy, tentacled freaks wanted with her, she wouldn't let them indulge. Of course, that raised the question of what they did want with her. Was she just another captive or was there something unique about her?

She pondered the question as she approached a brine pool nearby, glowing yellow.

[chidoroki]

182 Days of TPN - Day 128

Chapter 128: "I've Decided"

I love Emma so much for this. She agrees that the annihilation would be a smart way to ensure that their family can live safely and happily in this world, but it is by no means the best way to reach that future. I understand Norman's drive for revenge on the aristocrats and those who play an active part of keeping the farm systems running, but the whole method to achieve that is just morally wrong, especially to attack those who are innocently going about their days as normal. (during this part of the conversation, the anime has "Existence of an Insider" playing, which famously played in s1ep5 when Ray reveals he's a double agent to Norman, so it's almost like roles switched in regards to whom we're supposed to be cautious about.)

She also agrees that escaping into the human world may be dangerous for them as well since they dunno how well they'll be accepted there, but still wishes to take that chance. Their whole journey up to this point was full of risks, optimism and resolve, so naturally Emma is willing to put her beliefs into such an iffy idea. All that is quite similar to her reasoning later in ch178 when they're all about to cross over actually and if it was for this recent ask I may not have thought about this just now. (perhaps that's another reason Ray chooses to trust in Emma so strongly, as he's heard her speak similar truths before during this moment.)

Anime is wild for having Norman make a comment like that. Naturally I love Ray getting angry at him for it.

Lowkey funny to me how it's the thought of not having Emma smile anymore that causes Norman to be like "oh wait, I certainly can't have that," and proceeds to talk through the situation more openly about a sort of compromise.

Maybe I'm the idiot, but how would you exactly defeat the demons without killing them? It's not like you could mortally wound them since they'll regenerate quickly, yeah? (unless we're chatting about Norman's drug that has yet to be revealed, since that forces them to degenerate. though that'll still lead them to death, just slowly. idk. this is why i write these out days beforehand so i can think and try to make sense of random shit like this.)

Norman, I regret to inform you that you're in a fantasy type manga. Impossible things are gonna happen no matter what you wanna believe.

He goes through this whole spiel about the Seven Walls being a total mystery and claims there's absolutely no proof of the place actually existing and Emma fires back telling him they've basically found the entrance already and it's such a perfect in-your-face moment for her and I love it.

The way her grip tightens on him.. aahh she wants to take the pressure off him so badly so he can just be Norman again instead of the WM persona and it hurts!

Hug her! Hug her, you fool! She needs many hugs!

How can you expect to her relax with that fake smile on your face? If ya wanted to be convincing you should've just HUGGED HER. (i'm surprisingly passionate about this moment suddenly, dunno why.)

Perhaps it because it didn't happen in the anime that I'm fond of the embrace now? Instead we get Emma just reaching for his hand.

And after she asks Norman if the annihilation is truly what he wants and if it's tough carry everything by himself, he simply replies with "no" followed by the below. Like damn boy, and here I thought manga Norman was being harsh.

Spoilers: he did, in fact, not think about it when Emma returned. In his defense, she arrived a bit too late. But also in her defense, a lotta things happened at the Seven Walls.

Enjoy the brief happiness while you can.

My boy gets sidelined so hard during this chapter that despite all the chatter that's going on, he only got about seven total speech bubbles.

Favorite panel/moment:

I'm afraid Norman fails to understand that Emma is gonna make her own agreement between them whether he likes it or not.

I absolutely love the way Norman freaks out, even if it's definitely a valid concern about if they could actually return from the Seven Walls. C'mon boss, this is Emma we're talking about here, of course her plan is gonna be reckless. He should've expected that.

She's got a fair point about the first Ratri being able to return. And I'll never get over how she thinks this task/burden she volunteers for is simple. Emma is amazing. Crazy, but we love her.

In the anime it had the trio agree to find Sonju & Mujika instead (since the Seven Walls really don't exist in that silly adaptation) and I did kinda enjoy the quick banter between Emma & Norman about how many days the search should be. Not including anything else here though because this is longer than intended and I am very tired.

[flynndesdelca]

For Day 18 (Doug Rattmann) of @chelltastic’s Portal Drawtober 2023 Challenge. As I’m not really an artist, I chose to write short pieces for the prompts.

Another mural to mark the occasion.

Being trapped in the facility and under the mercy of the (then) unknown computer had left Chell frustrated and angry.  Certainly, she completed the tests, but it was never out of a sense of desire.  It was only necessity that spurred her onward.  The notion that something, anything could happen once she completed the tests.  The idea of 'cake', a carrot dangled on a string over her head, had never been as much of a draw as whoever designed that system - the core-addled GLaDOS, perhaps? - had intended.  Chell only had one goal in mind with the completion of the tests: finding a way to escape.  Perhaps finding the people who were administering these tests and negotiating with them over her cooperation, or perhaps simply just punching them, stealing their keys, and running.  She was fine, either way.

In her displeasure she often deliberately attempted to do tests in foolish ways, just to see if she could get a reaction.  She wasn't happy about her situation and she wanted to show it.  Normally there was no reaction, but on the odd occasion that her actions did actually cause trouble, the calm voice of the computer would chide her in its way and then do something to get her out of said situation.  There were myriad ways for her to potentially kill herself, but yet these ones, the ones that didn't involve physical harm, the ones that involved her sitting and doing nothing until she died of starvation or maybe asphyxiation - it was hard to tell how well sealed some of those small chambers were - where the ones that warranted intervention.

It was during her rattling around in her anger that she found the first of the strange 'dens'.  She'd been accidentally - she doubted it was an actual accident - sent on a test course full of live turrets.  She'd been slowly making her way through, cursing everything she could think of silently, when she'd turned a way she perhaps had never been intended to go.  Rather than a dead end or a face full of turrets, she'd found a small secret room.  There scribbled on the wall was a statement that echoed her own misgivings:  the cake was a lie.  It also showed a method to deal with the turrets from afar, which she greatly appreciated.  It had been such a shock, to see signs of life in the otherwise empty, dead place.  Clearly someone had been... living here? Staying? Hiding, most likely.  She had a strange feeling of safety while there, as though somehow she was out of notice.  From then on she started to keep an eye open just in case there may have been more of the same.

She had been rewarded, of course, as in the next test chamber she'd found another place to squeak into.  She had to put down the Companion Cube to do it, but she had been rewarded with another discovery.  While she was certain she was being fed a line about the Companion Cube, whoever it was who had been staying there seemed to be obsessed with them, and was angry and distraught about one having been... killed.  The words chilled her to the bone to see, scrawled on the wall, and she spent the rest of the test being very careful with the cube... only to have to throw it in the incinerator.  She hoped that whoever this person was, that they wouldn't be angry at her for her actions.  If they were still out there, of course.  She hadn't actually seen any evidence of their presence outside of what had remained in those two hidden rooms.

The next one hadn't really been a secret room per se... mostly just a hidden corner, a reprieve.  She had ducked inside to catch her breath but also to try to come up with a plan.  The end was coming up soon and she hadn't thought that far ahead.  She sat and listened to the radio and its tinny little sound, wondering just who would have left it at that station.  Who was the cube-obsessed survivor? Where were they now? What were they doing? Had they made it out of the tests, or had they been one of those who had died there?

Finding the next one had been the furthest thing from Chell's mind when she stumbled across it.  She'd been quite busy after the attempted murder with stalking through the strange rooms she'd found herself in once she had broken out of the testing tracks.  Beyond the clean and sterile testing environment, Aperture had seemingly been left to slowly decay.  While there had been signs of people being there once, there was no longer anyone there.  They were all dead or gone.  Even the mysterious person whose secret sleeping room she now stood in.  She couldn't imagine how uncomfortable it would be to curl up on cardboard, terrified of the murder-minded computer lurking around just outside, calling out in the distant hope of somehow getting compliance.  Laughable, really.  Was that how the test was supposed to end, dropping the test subjects into fire? Or was that something reserved just for her? At this point she wasn't sure what to think.  Right now, though, she was glad for the moment to sit, to try to think beyond her next few steps.  Some of the rooms had bottles of water in them, the outside dusty and the contents stale from sitting but still drinkable, and she was grateful for it.  She was also intensely grateful for the guidance, as without the directions they had left for her to follow she wouldn't have had a sense of where to go in some of the areas.  Even the simple directional arrows had been a great help in navigating the confusing corridors of the rooms behind.

And then it had been her and her alone.  There had been no further signs of her unseen ally, and given the situation she had just managed to drag herself out of she felt as though perhaps they might not have made it through.  The rest of her journey she had made on her own, slowly picking her way through the last areas until she had finally come face-to-face with her tormentor and won her freedom.

Or so she had thought! She had woken up not in the parking lot that she had remembered seeing distantly in her dreams upon the computer's destruction, but inside a Relaxation Chamber as part of its standard subject revitalization protocol.  Had the whole thing simply been a dream? Had she imagined the whole thing, all of the tests and dealing with the mad computer at the centre of it all? Was this her really having finally been awoken for the tests she had been conscripted to? She had no idea what was real and what wasn't, and the ramblings of the crazed core that had taken her Relaxation Chamber and smashed it around before dumping her into an overgrown testing track hadn't helped her to confirm one way or the other how much of what she could recall had actually happened.

All of that reminiscence hadn't prepared her for what she was currently seeing, of course.  The feel of the Single Portal Device in her hands was oh-so familiar, like a glove that had been made for her, and her left hand curled under it instinctively while her right hand hovered over the double triggers with a familiarity that could only have been born of endless repetition.  She stared up at the wall before her, horror and shock creeping onto her face.  It was another of those secret rooms, she recognized the scrawling drawings, but she hadn't expected to see a huge painting of herself there.  This person had been alive the whole time, had seen her, and judging from the paintings in this room had been there for the whole thing right from the computer’s creation.  She stared at the mural of herself, almost certain that she could see paint trickling down from it as though it had only just been daubed up there moments ago.  It was bone dry, of course, but the fact that it was her...  Who was this person who had guided her unseen out of the facility? Where were they? How had they been watching her? So many questions swirled around in her mind.  Would she find signs of their passing again? More secret rooms where they had tucked themselves away? Would she finally get to meet them?

Escape was her plan, once more, and perhaps it would be more straightforward now that the facility was in ruins and she had actual help on her way.   A part of her hoped that she could meet the strange, cube-crazed person who had been so instrumental in her escape.  Knowing that what she had been thinking wasn't simply paranoia from being alone and constantly watched.  Knowing that it was okay to have those feelings had helped her to keep from going completely insane by the end.  If she did happen to find that person... she would really like to thank them.

Really, she hoped that she wouldn't get to see them because they had finally managed to escape.

[thetantiger]

Character Insight #6: Ashley

Full Name: Ashley Cindra Scorchmane Gender: Female (she/her) Race: Worgen Class: Mage Specialization: Fire Orientation: Straight (ally!) Relatives: No Known Relatives Age: 39 Height: 6'11 (5'7 Human form) Voice reference: Loona - Helluva Boss Theme: Choke - I DONT KNOW HOW BUT THEY FOUND ME

[BACKSTORY] (TWs for implied queerphobia and racism happening in this character's backstory)

Ashley grew up in Tirisfal Glades surrounded by the Scarlet Crusade. As a toddler, her parents were slain by rogue undead, and thus the organization took her in. Their goal with her was to raise her to be an Inquisitor of the Crusade, and so they assigned her to one Samuel Price in order to teach her their arts of interrogation. However, their methods were.. less than humane, with Inquisitor Price teaching Ashley to set alight the flesh of any the Crusade had deemed heretics until they either gave in to their ideals or died of the torture. If she protested or questioned him, she was often abused herself, and as a result, Ashley's outlook on any that disagreed with the teachings of the Crusade turned sinister quickly. She was indoctrinated to believe that those that opposed the Crusade or any of its teachings were not to be trusted, and sometimes that spread to some people's mere existences as their race or sexuality or gender orientation. After all, she was taught that they were heretics, and any accused of such that the Crusade would bring to her, once she had taken up the role of Inquisitor and grown into her own, would burn before her magic.

Except.. something went wrong. In her own perfect world of delusion existed the outside world of Tirisfal, full of monsters and harsh realities she would soon face. A wild, feral Worgen found her in the woods and sank its teeth into her. Before she could even begin to wonder how to stop the bleeding her mind and body were taken over by the Worgen curse. Her mentor, Inquisitor Price, took enough mercy on her to administer the cure to her so she could be of sound mind again. However, he also outcast her from the Crusade, and swore she would be killed on sight if she were to ever return simply for her state as a Worgen.

Ashley did the only thing she could do. She fled, running into the hills of Tirisfal, her mind still plagued by the Scarlet Crusade's indoctrination. She lived alone in the woods, surviving on her magics and only delving further into insanity.. until she met the Shadows of the Faithful.

The most notable member of the group to her was one Derek Montend, a Gilnean priest that had also previously been a sort of.. harsh person. An overabundance of Light magic crazed him and caused him to attack the Shadows of the Faithful, later returning as an ally to fix the wounds he had left behind. He saw himself in Ashley quite blatantly, and chose to help her leave her old mindset behind instead of fighting fire with fire.. literally. So, he took her in. She had to be caged at first in order to restrain her insatiable need for violence against the members of the Faithful--many of them she found disgusting and worthy of incinerating--yet slowly but surely, she began to warm up (see what I did there) to both Derek and the rest of the Faithful. She conversed with them, and found that they were simply people just like herself, and, over time, she noticed herself growing fond of quite a few of them. So, one day, when discussing the fact she still wore a Scarlet Crusade tabard, she silently made a decision.

The Scarlet Crusade had been long wiped out for a while now. Their remaining settlements were few and dwindling. Lady Whitemane was a Horseman of the Ebon Blade. Renault Mograine had been slain long ago. The Dreadlord in their midst had ruined them, and their ideologies were simply outdated in modern society. But the ruins of their hatred remained in the northern lands of the Eastern Kingdoms. Ashley journeyed into the Eastern Plaguelands, towards their old settlement on the coast near Light's Hope Chapel and Acherus's former residence. She did not enact her horrors here, but it fit well enough. She had dawned a new tabard, one still reminiscent of her firey magics and even kept a blazing symbol as a small reminder to her origins, but was orange and yellow instead, bearing new colors to represent a new era of Ashley Scorchmane. She raised her old tabard--the red and white one bearing the mark of the Crusade as well as faded bloodstains--to the podium where a preacher may have once stood, and set the tabard alight. She ripped demonizing texts from their pages and set those alight, too, keeping them locked in a permanent state of incinerations with a little arcane touch, and wrapped them around herself. The very teachings that had taught her so ruthlessly to burn those unlike her would, themselves, burn. Satisfied, she stepped back outside, and for the first time in her life-- felt the true, warm and pure embrace of the Light.

She would serve the Shadows of the Faithful as retribution for her past actions and philosophies--just as Derek Montend had done.

[THOUGHTS]

WHEW, personally I fucking love this girl's development! She only had her redemption moment recently and I would argue there's still a long way for her to go to truly balance out everything she's done, but I absolutely adore this spoicy little ball of hatred that evolved into a warmer, happier and friendlier gal. She even knitted a little pride mug warmer for Rachel qwq

Anyway, hope y'all enjoyed! I sure enjoy writing these, so :D

[rxdhairxdsirxns]

DRABBLE (1/2) for @general-kalani

[ FIVE KISSES ]  send for five times our muses almost kissed and the one time they do.

It was nearly instinctive from the first moment. That subtle yet powerful and almost innate urge to softly kiss your loved one as they go off to bed. That gentle promise of being behind them soon or quiet wishes for the other to feel better after a nap. John hadn't realized what had overtaken him until he blinked and found the redhead's eyes already fluttering shut as she settled onto his bed. As quietly, and yet as quickly, as he could manage, he left the room and shut the door behind him. He'd have to get her away from the ranch as soon as she was awake.

The second wasn't far after. A moment of hesitation, of silent longing that couldn't be put into words, a brief hesitation between the pair as they stood close to one another. He had to swallow as he watched that little glimmer of... something in Taryn's brilliant blue eyes, and had to force himself to turn and walk back towards the ranch before her face was in his hands.

Third time is a charm, right? Well, most of the time. It had been that fucking Deputy. That madman wreaking havoc across the county in the name of justice and the Resistance. And for as much as they fought for the people, it seemed a neutral player such as Taryn was not among those people. Another outpost 'reclaimed', a number of peggies killed, and a sliver of time to reclaim some Eden's Gate possessions before the Resistance moved in. One of them, much to the displeasure of the Holland Valley herald, being the badly injured redhead whom had been caught in the crossfire. Her injuries had been patched up easily enough, but then she caught fever, and wasn't waking up. It was a wonder if she ever would, and watching her shiver and sweat in her restless sleep only made her first waking moment all the more emotional. He hadn't hesitated to fall to his knees at her bedside, her hands in his own as he pressed them to his chest and nearly wept in relief. Without thinking, his body began to move, but he caught himself before rising too far form his knees, merely appearing like a simple shift of weight instead of a desperate dive to kiss the woman he adored.

Ont he fourth occasion... Oh, God above, how could his brother do this? If John wanted it, Jacob did to, and it seemed he really would do anything to keep the youngest from having his 'future wife'. The 'wolf' was once again upon his doorstep, in an even more Blissed out and coming down from what seemed to be a rather mild trial of Jacob's normal brainwashing. Or had he been using the Judge method on her due to her monstrous nature? Oh, there were certainly tears in John's eyes this time as he cradled Taryn in his arms, whimpering and murmuring to her as he stroked her hair. She was far too overwhelmed to speak, much less give much movement, but she was aware enough to give gentle squeezes to the fabric of his vest. He couldn't help but cradle her face in his hands, thumbing her cheeks and staring into her glossy eyes, wondering if she could see him. So close, merely a breath away from one another, he could've stolen a gentle kiss. Though that little voice in his mind said perhaps he shouldn't.

A simple accident on the fifth time. A trip, a stumble, the bumping of heads as they fell against a wall. Was it stars from the brief moment of pain or stars from being chest to chest that swarmed their vision? Taryn was pressed between the wall and a herald, his arms caging her on either side. He heart raced, as was his own, and a glance was shared at one another's lips. Like a string slowly being pulled, they drew closer, so close John could feel the warmth of her plush mouth. Until Joseph rounded the corner, that is, and sent the youngest brother scrambling away from the object of his affections.

"I'm not sure if I'd feel right taking lessons in your plane, John. I mean, I'm really awful at flying, and I'd feel awful about crashing your baby on the first try."

"Nonsense, sweetheart. If I didn't trust you I wouldn't have even offered this. And besides, I'd be right there with you to guide you through it and to take over if something went wrong."

John's hand was lovingly placed on the wing of his plane, smiling brightly as he discussed the idea of giving Taryn some lessons so she could finally learn how to fly. She stood close to the plane, hands clasped behind her back as if she were afraid simply touching the aircraft would cause damage.

"I know, I know, I just can't help but be nervous and think the worst." She turned her head, glancing up into the cockpit as she chewed on her lower lip in thought before looking back at John's expectant expression.

"Will you give me a couple days to think about it?"

The herald nodded, his grin turning into a gentle smile as he raised his hands in a show of submission.

"As you wish. I'll be patient and await your answer." A pause, his expressions softening along with his voice. "Promise you'll come give your answer in person?"

Something about the sweetness of John's demeanor made Taryn blush and smile, finally unclasping her hands as she stepped up closer to the youngest Seed brother and carefully took his hands in her own. Her thumbs soothed along the backs of his hands as she nodded.

"Of course. I promise."

Those simple words made John's heart pound a little harder, smiling tenderly and giving her hands a little return squeeze at they stood in close proximity. There was no awkwardness if their closeness or the silence they fell into as they gazed at one another. It seemed only natural as Taryn raised herself a little on her toes and John lowered his head, their eyes fluttering shut as they finally met in a simple but sweet kiss.

[residents-of-the-darkforest]

Dark Forest Resident: Cedarwhisper

Aliases / Nicknames: Cedarstar

Gender: demiboy (he/they)

Sexuality: graysexual-ace (feels attraction, but not often)

Family: Lynxstone (mother), Brackenpurr (father)

Other Relations: Sunpaw (apprentice)

 Clan: Gladeclan

Rank: deputy

Characteristics: unemotive, constantly stone-faced, rarely breaks composure but has his anger spots, prefers to do things alone, apathetic to others

Number of Victims: 3

Number of Murders: 2

Murder Method: slitting throats

Known Victims: Woolstar, Hillpaw, Kindlepaw

Victim Profile: his leader, two apprentices who witnessed his crime

Cause of Death: fell into fire, burned alive, killed by Kindlepaw

Cautionary Tale: N/A

Story: 

Change was the most important thing in the world. That is what Cedarwhisper kept believing all throughout his life.

As cats died, he only noted that this was change in the world. As he went hunting, he’d note how this would change which prey would be where. Squirrels would move when they noticed cats, and make nests elsewhere. Birds would not lay eggs if they are killed too early. This was all change. Everything would change at a moment’s notice, and Cedarwhisper knew he was susceptible to that.

But he refused to let himself fall subject to change taking him by surprise. 

If he had friends, he could lose them at a moment’s notice. So, he kept his distance from his Clanmates, regarding them all as acquaintances. He kept his schedule to a constant, keeping note of every little thing he did that would go against his norm. He refused to let others help him, not wanting changes to how he did things. 

Woolstar was a kind old tom, maybe even too kind. 

Maybe that’s why he had been given Sunpaw as an apprentice. The tortie tom was questioning and expressive, practically oblivious to everything going on outside of the Gladeclan camp. It was a change for Cedarwhisper, and he found the tom annoying but bearable. The two’s relationship was not ideal, but it was not negative.

Change struck once again when Silkthorn, the former deputy, stepped down. She couldn’t continue her duties any longer due to old age, and Cedarwhisper stepped up to take her place. Cedarwhisper made sure that the Clan stayed in line, something Woolstar didn’t seem to want to do. 

Woolstar let the Clan run around like excited kits, letting them slack off through the day when they could be training their apprentices or setting out borders to keep rogues out. He tried to encourage Cedarwhisper to break schedule, to relax every once in a while, but Cedarwhisper refused, not wanting change to get the better of him. 

Cedarwhisper kept trying to keep the Clan in line, which earned him the disdain of some of his younger Clanmates. Of course they wouldn’t understand how his brain worked, why would they? It all seemed to be fruitless efforts, with the Clan continuing on as if Cedarwhisper never stepped up as deputy. The Clan would die out eventually, but he needed to delay that.

Changes needed to happen.

Cedarwhisper, one night, came to discuss things with Woolstar. How the Clan was unorderly, needed proper guidance and schedule. And Woolstar’s reaction to this advice? To just laugh it off, and tell Cedarwhisper he couldn’t control the way the cats acted. 

He knew this! But he can encourage a change of schedule! It felt like he was talking to a stone wall, his voice getting more strained and strained until eventually, he stomped a paw down to leave. He realized that his paw happened to be covered in blood, and he blinked slowly as he stared at Woolstar’s bleeding out body, a large wound in his fluffy neck. 

He did that. 

He’d have to step up as leader, causing yet another change to his schedule-- one he welcomed.The Clan would finally be able to thrive under his guidance. Only, he froze and slowly turned as he heard a shuffling noise.

Hillpaw, grandson of Woolstar. The fluffy, brown-and-white tom stared at him with wide eyes. He couldn’t have witnesses.

Changes needed to happen. Changes needed to happen. Changes needed to happen. He repeated that mantra to himself as he dug his claws into yet another neck, and when he had to deal with the other witness who happened to charge in and bite down on his back. Kindlepaw. But unfortunately, she had gotten away. Quickly composing himself, Cedarwhisper rushed off to remove evidence of his inclusion with the murder of the two toms, blaming it on a rogue attack.

He almost regretted making those changes from the mournful yowls of Hillpaw’s parents, but he knew he needed to continue onwards. As he headed to the Cavern of Stars, he felt a prick of anxiety at his paws. What if his crimes were exposed there? Would he need to get rid of the medicine cat, too? 

As he thought about how he could do such a thing, the sky clouded over and started to rain. When they tried to start the ceremony, Cedarwhisper was only welcomed by blackness, and a broken star on his forehead when he awoke. 

He tried to ignore the feeling of his stomach dropping as he understood what message Starclan was sending. He tried to send out search patrols for Kindlepaw so he could....properly deal with the loose apprentice, but nobody ever found her.

That is, not until a fire started up in Gladeclan, where Kindlepaw found him first. In a bloody fight, Kindlepaw sent them both careening down into the flames with the last of her strength, and Cedarwhisper suddenly came to the realization that perhaps, he had ruined himself as the flames swallowed him whole.

Additional Information:

--Submission by @umbranoxs​

--Despite being rather thin looking, he’s pretty strong and well muscled.

--I (Umbra) was listening to “Open up your eyes” while making this backstory so that’s where his whole thing about doing things himself and not wanting friends came from. Neat!

--Cedarwhisper doesn’t care if you refer to him as -whisper or -star. He refers to himself as Cedarstar, but sometimes accidentally slips up and calls himself Cedarwhisper.

--Woolstar just wanted Cedar to lighten up a little- He hoped that having his own apprentice and getting to see the Clan from the eyes of a deputy would make him understand others more. It didn’t work.

--Unaware Kindlepaw went to the Dark Forest, he would be mildly surprised if he knew but make a note to try not to find her- He has a feeling he knows it’d end with bloodshed and he’d prefer not to kill her. (Yes, he would kill her if she tried to attack him).

--Trying to find a spot of the Dark Forest he can have to himself, so he doesn’t have to deal with others. He’d like the eternal solitude (he thinks).

--Bastard boy bastard. 

[darkmodepls]

I kind of misread the prompt at first and thought that the GIW had taken them to Amity Park, so let's run with that.

Several decades before the Meta Protection Act was signed into law, The GIW had a ridiculous budget but very few personnel. After all, very few people believed in ghosts and even fewer were willing to swallow their bs "research."

This made it surprisingly easy for Amity Parkers to be hired on. All they had to do was complain about Phantom and property damage and their applications were approved.

Of course, the majority of these new hires were secretly pro-Phantom and maintained chatrooms and forums to pass information along. Tucker even found a way to hide apps unless the phone was being held by a liminal.

For several years, this network kept Team Phantom and the Liminals of Amity safe, as the number of supporters slowly grew.

But, eventually, Agents K and O caught wind of their coworkers' sympathies and took it to the higher-ups. Tose with anti-ghost sentiments wasn't expecting just how outnumbered they were, and the Parkers flawlessly pulled off a coup.

The new leaders pulled a complete 180 in the organization's goals and methods, yet due to the covert nature of the GIW, no one outside of Amity even noticed the change in management.

Since then, the GIW has served to protect liminals and ghost-kind across the nation.

There are quite a few familiar faces in positions of power.

On paper, Danny Fenton is the head scientist in charge of experimenting on captured ecto entities. Instead, he’s a physician specialized in treating malnourished liminals, which is extremely common for liminals outside of Amity.

Tucker is head of engineering and has modified all GIW weaponry to function only in the hands of liminals. Also, the majority are designed to capture or incapacitate, not kill.

Sam is the current Director and her Waller-like reputation keeps scrutiny away from the GIW. No one knows the humanitarian goals of the current administration, and she plans on keeping it that way.

It’s always been a joke. A threat, perhaps. A lingering doubt that something that could happen, just never would. Then it actually happens.

Tim’s years of excessive caffeine intake has damaged his heart. He has a heart attack and dies on the floor of the Batcave all alone. Except, nobody except for him realizes that he’s actually died. Tim was dead for a few minutes, but mysteriously comes back to life. Tim himself isn’t even sure of how this has happened. It isn’t until a month later when he falls through the floor of his bedroom and appears downstairs in the kitchen does he realize he has a problem. He has no idea what to do.

A month after that accident, Red Robin is flanked by guys in white suits. They’re also targeting Red Hood, and neither man know why. This leads them to Amity Park and to a certain ghost named Phantom, who clocks them both as half ghosts (but Jason’s core isn’t fully developed yet, cause Lazarus pits are nasty.)

Tim finally learns the truth of what happened the day he died. He had come back to life because of the ectoplasm in his veins. He was now a halfa, a being between life and death.

Tim is scared shitless of what this means for him.

[aydensconstantstruggle]

Ayden hopes for better

Ayden sits beside her bed, legs tucked under her, unwrapped hands firmly on her knees. Head bowed, eyes shut as she attempts to meditate. It feels as though it's been years since she focused on her thoughts.

Parsing through the last few months, figuring out where to go from here.

Deep breath in, out.

She tries a method her mom taught her; remember, feel the emotion, and if you find it impedes your journey, let it go. Inhale and exhale. Let it go.

Deep breath in, out.

She thinks of her mother, the choices, the facts that lay before her. It won't do her any good in the Hells, Ayden knows her mistakes; Wynne, Phoebe, the Blade, The Call. Acknowledge the responsibility and-

Deep breath in, out.

Her respiration trembles slightly, flexes her digits, readjusts her posture, and focuses.

She thinks of the group, the Blade of Phandalin, heroes of the Dales. The people she's fought beside. Her friends.

Dragons, gods, fiends, lichs, aboleths. Victories, losses, deaths, and resurrections.

Throughout her time with them, there's been a silver lining, or a rematch where it's been in their favor.

They've never given up.

Hope and determination, -two flowers Ayden has been struggling to tend to- grow greener, healthier, slowly.

If they're calling on her to lead, or at least co-lead, she is going to get better. She has to, her friends' lives can't end, especially not there. She won't be able to handle-

Deep breath in, out.

She has to believe their time in the Hells, the sacrifices they've all made to get there, won't be in vain.

She pauses for a moment, she can feel her hair becoming brighter, lifting off her shoulder.

She thinks of Wren.

The shadowy man, who was made to think of himself only as a weapon, only as useful as the magic he wields, only as strong as the last person he kills. The man who is better than he views himself as. She thinks about the dreams, the safety he offers, the..- Ayden wills her hair down, shaking her head.

She can't seem to fall for people she can have, or keep, for that matter.

She chuckles softly. The empty room making it louder and echo off the walls surrounding her.

Deep breath in, out.

She opens her eyes to the closed door and the flickering candle next to the bed, the wax dripping and pulling towards the base.

She thinks about Zariel and shuts her eyes again.

Her thoughts turn to prayer, to her mother's god.

"Okay. Alright... You know, I've done this before but never at this level of need.

Lathander, please, if you can hear me, I desperately require your help. I did something thoughtless and my mother paid the price for it. My mom was- is a devoted follower of yours. She spoke to and of you often. Please help me save her and bring her back to your light and protection. Help me undo my mess. Please deliver her from this torment and back into your safety. In your name, Lathander."

Her body, throughout the beseechment, shakes, eyes squeezed tightly, tears passing through them.

Deep breath in, out.

The people she cares about will be safe once the archdevil is dealt with. Ayden hopes, in the way that reunites the disgraced angel with her companion.

As for Wren, she'll just have to, yet again, hope something will turn up, before he's lost, completely and utterly lost. Incapable of returning to his family. Unable to be-

Deep breath in, out.

Her meditation briefly turns into prayer again as she tries to reach Lathander, or any of the deities that don't want the Whispered One to claim another, to win.

"Please, Lathander, anyone. There's a human who, in desperation, accepted the power of an evil entity. He's being changed, drained of life, becoming a-a husk of himself until there's nothing left to save. Please. I want, no, I need to save him. He's got so much to live for, he recently found the family he was torn from at such a young age. He can get to know some of the people he grew up with, for real this time. Please help me find a way,"

She can feel her blunt nails dig into her skin, past the cloth protecting it. She's hyper-aware of the tears trailing down her cheeks now. She relaxes her hands.

"There must be a way that doesn't involve selling souls, or making pacts.... Thank you for listening to me, I suppose."

She gives a wet laugh, sniffling. She turns into both shoulders wiping the tracks from her face.

She tries to recenter, moving her legs to be crossed instead, smoothing out where she's creased the fabric.

Deep breath in, out.

Ayden inhales and exhales a couple more times.

Meditating for a few more hours before climbing in bed and under covers, she blows out the now sad looking candle, the wick hanging on for dear life, only a silver of wax remains.

Her thoughts drift as she surrenders to sleep....

"And Astro, he should be here! He would be able to do so much! That smiling selfish-"

Deep breath in, out.