#bigger scales thin out into softer ones

[sirenemale]

everything abt the httyd remake feels like such a deep insult to the first film. Insulting animation as an artform, insulting the texture and lighting work that still holds up so so well. Insulting everything they put in to make it such a tightly written and skillful film. Like what could you improve with this scene, the amount of character you get from toothless here and seeing his thought process, fhe mix of accepting his fate, weariness and curiosity, you're just sucking the life and intention out of it for what. To see the dirt in between toothless's scales? Guess what you can already see that in the first movie. To flatten the lighting, remove all mood so you can see how good they modeled his new scales? Show you how real the mulch looks. Whatever. They do this all the time but this is personal (autism) you're being shown up by a film from 2010. She is eating you ALIVE. Even the other httyd films couldn't quite re-capture what they did with toothless in this first one, they remodeled him ever so slightly and he lost that edge of intelligent Animal, and became a Slightly more condensed version of himself now that his personality was established.

[allfryam]

weight gain drive story

Shane had always coasted through life on his good looks. He was a popular football player in high school, and he somehow avoided the freshman 15 in college. His life was perfect until his girlfriend of 3 years, Ashley, broke up with him out of nowhere. It broke Shane. He didn’t come out of his room for a week, and he spent most of his days crying in bed.

but Shane quickly recovered and hopped back into his normal life. He wasn’t one to just leave a relationship though. He had to make Ashley jealous. He started going to the gym every single day. He always thought he was a little skinny and wished he was bigger. He was talking about it on the phone with one of his buddies when a strange man overheard him. “You tryna get big?” The strange man said. “Uhhh… yeah?” Shane replied. “Take this. You’ll be bigger in no time.” He tossed a small bottle to Shane and walked away. Shane examined the bottle. “GET BIGGER EVERY DAY!” Shane was skeptical, but he reluctantly drank the liquid and tossed the bottle.

Shane took note of his starting weight. 155 pounds. He looked at himself in the mirror. “Hopefully this junk works.” He said to himself. the next morning, Shane rushed to the bathroom to weigh himself. 156 pounds. That shit only made him gain a pound. What a waste. He went about his week like normal until 4 days later. He checked his weight to see 160 pounds. Huh. A pound a day? That was a lot faster that he normally gained weight. He looked at himself in the mirror to see his midsection growing ever so slightly. There was just a thin layer of softness that was beginning to cover his abs. Shane didn’t notice however. He saw his arms getting slightly wider and he was ecstatic. He was finally starting to gain some real muscle.

a week had passed, and Shane was still gaining exactly one pound a day. He was up 13 pounds from his starting weight, and his friends started to notice. “Yo. Lay off the ice cream, tubby” his friend mark commented. Shane looked down to see that his gym shirt didn’t quite cover his belly all the way. There was a small but noticeable layer of pudge peeking out of his shirt. His face got red and he tugged his shirt down. “Maybe I should stick to the weight im at now.” He thought to himself. But the weight kept coming. Exactly one pound a day. 169. 170. 171. 172. It kept climbing. Shane was starting to get worried. How long would this spell last? Would he continue to gain weight forever? Shane was frightened, but looking in the mirror, he had never looked stronger.

after the first month, Shane was up 30 pounds. He hit 185 in no time. Sweatpants were all that fit over his round butt, and he wore hoodies to try and conceal his growing belly. That didn’t really help though. Mark was constantly making fun of his friend’s weight gain and poking Shane’s belly. Shane would even try to stop eating for a day, but the weight still climbed. Shane was ready to give up. What’s the point of eating healthy if you’re going to gain weight anyway? Shane decided to treat himself by eating whatever he wanted from now on.

after two months, Shane was ahead of schedule. He was supposed to be up 60 pounds, but when he stepped on the scale, he was up 70! He was still gaining a pound a day, but all of the pizza and ice cream he was eating was also making him even fatter. Shane almost didn’t recognize himself anymore. He had a double chin, his pecs began to melt and get saggy, his toned arms grew larger and softer. But his stomach was the worst of all. It was like having a beach ball under your shirt at all times. Not even his baggiest hoodies could contain the mass of his gut.

after 100 days, Shane was up 139 pounds. He almost hit 300! He was at 294. The spell seemed like it finally wore off, but what had Shane done to himself. His belly was huge! It hung over his tight pants and bursted through the buttons on his shirts. Shane’s entire body jiggled with each step, and he was constantly out of breath. But his arms were huge. He looked like he could lift a truck with his pinky. Shane decided the belly was a sacrifice he was willing to make to keep these bear arms.

thank you to everyone who participated in the weight gain drive! I had a lot of fun making it and I hope you have fun reading it. I may do more like this in the future so stay tuned. I hope everyone has a merry Christmas!

[wonderingsoftly]

okay, i am a big stinky romantic ghost. it goes well with admiring and touching and squeezing. more feeding, big time.

---

Chapter 5 - Undeniable

Seven more months passed and Alex’s waistline continued to grow. His and Mellie’s relationship also deepened with the passing time.

They grew more intimate with each other, often sitting pressed up against each other while Alex rested between meals. Alex would often pull Mellie’s hand onto his often-distended belly and encourage her to rub.

And Mellie was more than happy to do so. Though, at first Alex could sense Mellie’s hesitance. He reminded her that her job was to serve him.

She was grateful that Alex could seem to sense what was going through her head and took the pressure of their growing intimacy from her.

She hoped that one day she would be brave enough to act on her feelings, but watching him grow was good enough for now.

His belly, once slightly soft, was now ballooning out further and hung down slightly over his waistline. Every part of him was now softer than before, his chest bigger to match his stomach. the definition of his jawline was starting to disappear and his thin arms had a nice layer of flab over them.

“245 pounds,” Mellie read the digital scale with pride. She gave him a smile as he looked down at his belly and placed his hands on either side of it.

“Feels good,” he hummed.

Looks good too, Mellie thought longingly.

She resisted the urge to reach out and give his muffin top a squeeze. The pants he wore were reaching their limit.

Mellie found herself daydreaming of Alex fattening up further, stretching the limits of his clothes. The thread of his shirts straining to hold his widening belly and chest, his jeans creaking with every movement, one overly-sudden movement away from splitting, revealing the creamy, soft fat underneath…

Alex’s sigh shook Mellie from her daydream. “We’ll actually need to go shopping soon…these are the last pair of big pants I own.”

“You’ve already outgrown everything else?” Mellie asked with some surprise, nonchalantly trying to rub the blush out of her cheeks.

“You wanna go after breakfast?” he asked, patting his stomach.

“Good call,” Mellie mused. “We can probably get a better fit on you if you're stuffed.”

And maybe Mellie might get a glimpse of him trying to squeeze himself out of his jeans…

“Perfect,” Alex replied, keeping Mellie from getting too deep into her daydreams again.

Mellie got a large breakfast together for Alex and fed him quickly, his stomach bulging out once they finished.

She chided herself for staring too long while cleaning up, and did her best to turn her attention to the dishes. She wasn't sure, but she swore she could see Alex smirk and silently chuckle to himself as she pulled her gaze away.

They made their way to a big and tall store, Alex walking in proudly with Mellie close behind.

“Go find stuff you might like to see on me right now,” he said with a pat to Mellie’s head. “I’ll get stuff for me to grow into.”

They split up, eventually meeting in front of the changing rooms. They both had armfuls of clothes and the changing room attendant led them to a large room.

Alex took the clothes from Mellie and entered the room, while Mellie took a seat in front of the door. She could see his calves and feet shuffle around through the space under the door and heard him grunt as he pulled his pants down.

Mellie took a deep breath, trying to keep her thoughts calm. She closed her eyes, silencing her imagination and waited for Alex to come out.

She heard the door creak quietly and Alex stepped out wearing a handsome set of athletic wear, one of Mellie’s picks. His belly was a bit disguised by the jacket, but Mellie looked forward to potentially getting him to fill it out.

“I knew it would look great,” she said, smiling and cheerfully tilting her head to the side.

“Comfy, roomy, still nice enough to wear out. I like it.”

Mellie leaned forward, crossing her legs. “Next?”

A curious smile crossed Alex’s lips and he went back into the room. Mellie closed her eyes again, starting to quietly hum a song to distract herself, when she heard Alex call.

“Hey, Mellie, can you help me with this shirt? It's a little tight…”

Mellie looked curiously at the door before getting up and letting herself in. Her cheeks flushed as she found Alex standing there, shirtless and smiling mischievously.

She stepped closer, about to ask for the shirt in question, but Alex slipped behind her and clicked the door’s lock shut. Mellie gasped, his large, warm belly almost pressed against her.

“Alex…?” she asked nervously, unsure of what was happening.

“You’ve been staring at me all morning, but playing like you haven't…” Alex said in a low voice, stepping closer to Mellie.

She stared up at his increasingly cherubic face, speechless. heat spread over her face, neck, and shoulders. He had a hungry, pleading look in his eyes.

“You’re allowed to stare, you know…”

Mellie tried to speak, opening her mouth, but had no words available.

“I’m…trying to be patient and let you make the move when you're ready, but…” he grabbed Mellie’s arm and pulled her close into him. Mellie couldn't deny the warmth of his stomach and she automatically placed her hands on it. “Mellie, I’m hungry.”

Her knees tried to buckle. She knew what he really meant.

“How much longer are you going to keep me from tasting you again?” Alex crooned, placing a large hand on her cheek. Mellie’s mind flashed to the first night they spent together, Alex gently licking chocolate from her thumb.

“A-Alex…” Mellie could only croak out. her heart was pounding in her ears. “I’m…just your assistant, though.”

Alex gave her an inspecting stare. “We both know that's not true.”

“Look at me,” he whispered, pressing Mellie’s hands further into his stomach. “This is only because of you…and I know you like it.”

Mellie gently started kneading his stomach, unable to deny what he was saying.

“Mmm…see?” Alex moaned quietly. “You know what you want. I’ve gotten so much from you already and I’ll keep getting more…but you’ve been restraining yourself for so long. Enjoy yourself…don't overthink it.”

Mellie began trailing her hands up Alex’s soft chest and to his face. He stared at her lovingly, longingly and cradled her face in his own hands.

She gently pulled him down to her face, pressing her lips against his. Alex hungrily reciprocated and one kiss quickly became dozens.

Mellie’s moans were quiet and low, and Alex responded with his own. Mellie slipped her tongue past his teeth and Alex did the same. She then started kissing down from his lips, trailing over his soft chest and began kneading his belly again.

“That's it…” Alex moaned, running his hands through her hair.

“You’re so soft,” Mellie whispered in between kisses on his skin. “I want you softer…”

Alex’s quiet laugh rang in Mellie's ears. “Yeah…?”

“I love seeing your belly so full and round, knowing that you will just get bigger and bigger,” Mellie said with a desperate-sounding whine. “I want to have you within my reach at all times, and I want to call you mine…”

“That's what i’ve been waiting for, Mellie…” Alex replied with a happy sigh. “I’m all yours…everything I am now and everything I will become…”

Mellie’s skin tingled at his declaration.

“I’m sorry i made you wait so long for another taste…” she whispered, still kneading his belly.

“It was well worth it…even better than I remembered.”

Mellie shivered. Ii can't get enough of you.”

“You took the words out of my mouth,” Alex moaned as Mellie began kissing his chest again, squeezing his belly.

“Should we…go back home?” Mellie paused her kissing, looking up at Alex’s huge dark eyes.

“We picked out a lot of clothes…I think we have time to enjoy each other a little longer,” Alex whispered, kissing Mellie's neck.

Mellie giggled. “It's not so bad, being the personal assistant to a demon.”

“You're exceptional at your job, Miss Melinda,” Alex cooed, bumping her with his belly.

“Oh, be careful…I’m definitely going to stuff you silly for lunch if you keep on doing that.”

Alex bumped her again, chuckling.

“Promise?”

***

As promised, Mellie kept to her word to make Alex softer and bigger, and Alex eagerly ate everything Mellie offered.

They now spent even more time pressed together, Mellie constantly rubbing Alex’s belly with no hesitation, indulging her desire to listen to his moans and hums.

He quickly outgrew his last, old pair of jeans and began wearing the new clothes they picked out together. His belly always strained his shirts, however, and he softened further.

Five more months of snuggling, gorging, and eating out piled on more weight to Alex’s frame.

His belly now permanently hung over his pants and his thighs rubbed together when he walked. His chest grew more pillowy and his face had developed a significant double chin.

Mellie giggled as she buried her face in his soft chest as they lay together in bed. Alex placed a small kiss on Mellie’s head, gently stroking her hair.

Mellie adjusted herself to rest her head on his chest, placing a hand on Alex’s large belly. She began to jiggle his stomach, making him moan appreciatively.

“Mellie…” he murmured. “You know what this does to me…”

“Just want to wake you up a little before breakfast,” Mellie sang, rhythmically wobbling Alex’s belly.

With a little playful growl, Alex rolled Mellie onto her back and hovered over her on his hands and knees. His belly hung low enough to touch Mellie’s torso and Mellie continued to play and wobble him back and forth.

Alex leaned down for a kiss and Mellie reciprocated with a smile. He sighed dramatically and plopped himself down on top of Mellie, resting his head on her chest.

Mellie let out a little noise as he put his weight on her, rubbing his head affectionately.

“I almost cover you completely…” Alex said dreamily, sliding his fingers under Mellie's shirt and squeezing her sides.

She tried to inhale silently, the sensation of Alex’s fat belly on her sparking a heat in her abdomen.

“You know what this does to me,” Mellie said with a moan.

Alex responded with a low chuckle, nuzzling his head in Mellie’s chest.

“Where do you think you’re at now?” Mellie asked, running her hands through Alex’s dark hair.

“I bet I'm 300 now,” he replied, looking up at Mellie with a smug smile.

Mellie shivered at the mention of the number. he was more than twice her weight and she loved having him pressed on top of her. spShe tried to imagine him even bigger and lying on her, making her breath catch in her throat.

“Let's weigh you and then get some food in that big belly,” she said, squeezing his flabby stomach. “If you're not 300 yet, you will be by the end of the day.”

“Oh, I like the sound of that!” Alex laughed, sitting up in front of Mellie.

She sat up too, smiling as she admired him. He was already a far cry from the thin man he was a year ago. His belly rolled out in front of him, his flat chest no longer that–Mellie guessed his chest was almost as big as hers now, and if not, it would be sooner or later.

His face was positively cherubic now, rounded with fat and his neck was swelling out, making his chin start to disappear. His big dark eyes were even more charming framed by his chubby cheeks.

“You’ve grown so much since we first met…” Mellie sighed.

“Thanks to you.” Alex patted and jiggled his belly, making Mellie smile. He was happy for a moment until his expression fell slightly.

“You’re not getting bored or anything, are you?” He asked hesitantly, suddenly looking at her with big, wet eyes.

“No, not at all!” Mellie gasped, the sight of Alex's dark eyes glimmering making her heart squeeze in her chest.

“I’m sorry for asking that,” Alex replied apologetically, rubbing his neck. “I just…worry sometimes. Like i’m having the time of my life, but you're doing all the work…”

“And I love it,” Mellie said seriously. “My arms may get tired every now and then, but Alex…watching you eat and getting to squeeze you all over is one of the best things I've ever experienced.”

Alex looked a little unsure, trying to offer a smile.

“And I get to see results immediately…” Mellie cooed, crawling over to Alex and rubbing his belly. He let out a shivering breath as she gently started wobbling his fat stomach. “What job gives you results like this so regularly?”

“Oh Mellie,” he moaned, almost like an invocation. “Please get some food in me, please, please.”

“How about I feed you in bed this morning?” Mellie cooed again, kneading Alex’s skin.

Alex moaned. “Till I can't move…”

And Mellie quickly obliged, sprinting down to the kitchen. She had actually been planning a breakfast-in-bed feast for some time, but the timing never seemed quite right.

She deftly grabbed and hauled out the multiple bulk boxes of pastries she had been hiding in the pantry, along with a gallon of whole milk from the fridge. danishes, cinnamon buns, turnovers–she figured they would make a good starting point for him to digest before she ran back down to the kitchen to start on pancakes and french toast.

Mellie set the boxes on the bed with a grunt and looked at Alex, who had been making himself comfortable up against his pillows on the immense bed.

He looked at the boxes with awe, then up at Mellie.

“Where…?”

“Hid them under your usual arms-reach spots in the pantry,” Mellie grinned. “I’d been wanting to do this for a while. I'll get you started and digesting all these while I work on the main course.”

“All four boxes?” Alex asked with surprising apprehension. “And then a main course after…?”

“Oh, I thought you said you wanted to be too full to move?” Mellie asked, teasingly sad and giving her best puppy dog eyes. “Were you lying?”

“N-no! I meant it, I meant it!” Alex’s voice was suddenly desperate.

Mellie gave him a devilish grin, swiftly tearing open the plastic on the first box. She did the same to the other three, glancing at Alex every now and then, watching him start to fidget and wipe his mouth.

Of all the things Alex ate, sweets seemed to turn him ravenously hungry. He would down plates and plates of dessert when offered, even after a button-bursting feeding session.

Mellie slid the boxes toward Alex, all stacked on top of each other, and she climbed onto the bed to take her place next to him.

“Ready?” Mellie asked, giving his belly a squeeze.

Alex couldn't even muster a word, just hungrily watching Mellie’s hand as she waved a wrapped pastry in front of him.

“Oh, I’ve got a little demon piggie on my hands this morning, haven't I?”

“Mellie, please,” Alex whined, giving her a pleading stare. “Before i start tearing into these by myself.”

Mellie laughed and unwrapped the pastry, tossing the plastic behind her. She pushed it to Alex’s lips and he hungrily took the whole thing from her fingers, devouring it.

She gasped, surprised at his speed. She must have teased him a little too long, she guessed as she grabbed several more pastries to open.

Alex devoured the contents of the first box, moaning happily as his stomach started to fill.

As Mellie expected, Alex downed all four boxes, his pace slowing on the fourth. His belly was reaching its full roundness and Mellie rubbed it affectionately as he chewed the final pastry.

“Feeling good?” she asked with a happy sigh, loving the warm feeling of his skin.

“Amazing,” Alex moaned, letting out an airy belch as Mellie massaged.

“Let’s wash this down, yeah?” she grabbed the gallon of whole milk from beside the bed and opened it. She carefully lifted the bottle to his lips and he began to drink.

He finished about half before his eyes met Mellie, signaling her to stop. He let out an exhale, gently rubbing the top of his belly, now fully taut and round with the additional liquid.

He looked at her, somewhat dazed with little dribbles of milk on his cheeks and neck. She gently wiped his face clean, dusting crumbs from his chest.

Alex smiled contentedly, tucking Mellie’s hair behind her ear.

Mellie kissed Alex’s chubby cheek. “Let me get started on everything else.”

She hopped off the bed as Alex leaned back and sighed, now rubbing his belly in Mellie’s place.

Mellie scampered down to the kitchen, quickly grabbing various boxes of pancake mix from the pantry. eggs, milk, and butter from the fridge, bags of frozen fruit and sugar for compote, heavy cream for french toast, and a big, rounded container of her secret weapon.

Gaining powder. She ordered it a while ago at the recommendation of a weight gaining forum post she read online and she was beyond interested.

She hadn't used it yet, unable to find a good way to disguise it in their takeout food and other things she made while Alex was around.

There wasn't much of a real reason to hide it from her increasingly-enormous boyfriend, but there was something exciting about it to her…secretly being able to maximize his calories and watch the weight pile on even faster. She’d let him know maybe once he gained another hundred pounds if he hadn't figured it out by then.

Mellie got to work mixing up batter for pancakes and french toast, topping each bowl off with extra scoops of gaining powder. She heated up the fruit and sugar for the compotes, even adding gaining powder without making the sauces too cloudy.

Her fervor increased and she cooked like a woman possessed, stacks and stacks of pancakes and french toast piling up around her.

When the last of the batter was gone, Mellie stepped back and looked at her handiwork. There must have been at least dozens of huge pancakes and pieces of french toast. She wiped her forehead with a proud breath and she began pouring fruity, fattening compote on everything.

Mellie began carrying everything up to Alex's room. enough time had passed that Alex had come out of his gorged daze and he watched in awe as Mellie placed endless serving plates of food on the bed.

His belly had settled a bit, though it was still remarkably full and round.

She finally brought the final plate, smiling triumphantly.

“Mellie, you…” Alex whistled. “You’ve outdone yourself.”

“Not yet, big guy…I still have to get everything in you,” she replied, giving Alex’s stomach a long knead.

He moaned as Mellie pressed into his stomach. A belch escaped his mouth and he let out a sigh of relief.

“It smells delicious…fill me up, Mellie.”

Mellie grinned wide and began feeding him. Pancake after pancake, smothered in sugary fruit sauce, passed his lips and he chewed emphatically. He moaned happily with each swallow, and his belly quickly rounded back out to its previous tautness.

But they weren't even close to being done.

They entered their usual trance, the sweetness keeping Alex’s feeding speed high. One by one, the plates emptied and Alex’s belly distended further.

His moans grew louder, beginning to border on groans. Mellie took a moment to press into and massage the bottom of Alex’s hard belly, hoping to activate some digestion. Alex groaned at first, then sighing gratefully as she continued.

“You’re doing so well, Alex…you’ve eaten so much and filled up that belly,” Mellie cooed.

“I’ll eat anything you give me, Mellie…”

Mellie planted a kiss on the top of Alex’s tight belly. “Oh, what a good boy.”

“Look at me…this is all because of you.”

Mellie kissed his belly again, making him moan. “So delicious…”

“You sound like a demon,” Alex chuckled breathlessly. “I found an amazing little assistant on that park bench…”

“Let me be a demon then,” Mellie whispered, looking up at him and smiling devilishly. “Shall i stuff you until you're begging for mercy?”

Alex shivered, gently taking Mellie’s chin in his fingers. He met her devilish grin with one of his own.

“You can try, little lady…”

Mellie giggled eagerly and started feeding Alex again. He met her with surprising hunger, eating and swallowing almost faster than Mellie could feed him.

The remaining plates emptied quickly, and Alex’s belly was almost horribly round and tight. his moans and sighs veered into painful, but he rubbed at his belly, his head tilted back and eyes closed.

“You…did it, Mellie…I can't move.”

Mellie let out a sigh of relief, gently placing her cheek against his huge, taut belly.

“You didn't ask to stop at all…just think of how big this will make you.”

Alex hummed happily, stroking Mellie’s hair as she rubbed her cheek against his belly.

“Everything was so delicious…I can't not finish every bite of your homecooked meals.”

“Oh, we didn't even weigh you!” Mellie gasped, looking up at Alex. She kept softly kneading his stomach. He moaned appreciatively, gingerly adjusting himself against the pillows he leaned on.

“Maybe before bed tonight…? Though I think I’m ready to sleep this off or something,” Alex patted his belly, letting out another belch.

“Let me admire you a little longer then…” Mellie rubbed circles on his skin with her palm.

Alex nodded and smiled.

[growingstories]

Building together

Once upon a time in the bustling city of Parkview, three handsome construction workers forged an unlikely friendship that would endure through thick thin and. Brandon, Carlos, and Jason were the epitome of perfection: each possessed a chiseled physique, smoldering good looks, and charisma that could charm anyone in their wake.

Brandon, a charming and affable twenty-three-year-old, happened to be the son of the construction company owner. The young heir had no airs about his privileged background and took it upon himself to take care of his buddies,

Carlos, a confident twenty-seven-year-old with a heart of gold, and Jason, a wise thirty-four-year-old with a magnetic personality.

Their days were spent toiling under the sun, constructing towering edifices that would reshape the city skyline. But when the workday would come to an end, the trio would transform into a force to be reckoned with, seeking out adventure and revelry that would code their brotherhood.

Weekends were filled with boisterous parties and long nights of dancing, as they savored the breathless excitement that youth could offer. Their carefree existence seemed destined to last forever, fueled by their boundless energy and camaraderie. Brandon’s protein lunches and their tough workouts did well for their bodies.

However, as time wore on, responsibilities made their presence known. Brandon, with his natural knack for business, gradually took over the reins of his father's construction empire.

Office work ate into his once abundant free time, and soon enough, he found himself with no hours left to hit the gym and 10lbs extra.

As Brandon made his transition to the life of a corporate titan, his two friends felt the void left in their lives. The gym, once a sacred space where their physicality reached its zenith, became nothing more than a distant memory. After a few weeks both of them had about 20lbs of fat on their muscular frames.

Days turned into weeks, weeks turned into months, and the feast-filled lunches they once shared began to grow bigger and heartier. The trio reveled in their newfound indulgences, as their sculpted bodies gradually transformed into softer forms, concealed by the layers of excess snacking. Soon they were another 20lbs heavier.

Life seemed content for the three friends, as their work miraculously became easier thanks to the carefree approach they adopted and Brandon’s influence on their workload. The scale ticked a little higher each month, and they embraced it, finding solace in their shared love for all things delicious. After a year of this carefree life they were all 60lbs heavier.

One fateful day, burdened by the weight of responsibility and seeking a life of leisure and relaxation, Brandon made the audacious to decision retire at an early age. He bid farewell to the hustle and bustle of Parkview, seeking solace in a Caribbean paradise that would become his forever home.

In his tropical sanctuary, Brandon reveled in a sedentary existence, indulging in the finest cuisine and basking in the sun's warm embrace. Contentment washed over him, and he found joy in the reflection of his fuller figure.

Meanwhile, Carlos and Jason continued their work in Parkview, enjoying the lunchtime feasts and the easiness of life that had become second nature to them. They wore their weight like badges of honor, celebrating each pound gained with laughter and contentment.

Years passed, and the three friends remained connected through an unbreakable bond. Their bodies had, changed but their souls remained intertwined, forever preserving the memories of their youth and the adventures they shared.

While many would argue their that paths had taken an unconventional turn, Brandon, Carlos, and Jason were blissfully content with their newfound embrace of life's pleasures. They had set aside the demands of the world, transforming insecurities into self-acceptance, and found joy in the simplicity of friendship and good food.

[tabswrites]

7 Snippets, 7 People Pt. 2

I was tagged by @ceph-the-ghost-writer here and @winterandwords here! Thanks to you both :)

I decided to share some snippets from a couple of my sidelined WIPs that I still have some love for, as well as ToL!

Rules: Share 7 snippets and tag 7 people!

1. Ascension (side WIP) Ch. 1

The knight surrendered to him willingly. He stood at the entrance of the fur-lined tent, the torchlight casting shadows on his angular face. His armor, it seemed, had been left behind, leaving him barefoot in a plain blue jacket and brown linen trousers that hung loosely from his hips.

“I’ve come for my men,” he stated clearly, staring directly into the prince’s eyes.

He tilted his head to the side and gave him a crooked smile–indulging the knight’s boldness, for now. “One man in exchange for three? I’m not so sure that’s a fair trade, human.”

The knight seemed to anticipate his reluctance and grinned with ease, two tiny dents becoming visible on each side of his face. “No? What about the location of the Umbra?” He took a step forward and lowered his voice. “What is that worth to the prince of demons?”

2. Ascension, Ch. 3

He watched the crocodile continue to sit there, unmoving, a single green eye staring at him with a thin, vertical pupil. It unnerved him more than he cared to admit–and he didn’t scare easily. “Does she have a name, Madame Kosara?”

“Graisse,” she replied with a bigger grin. “It means ‘fat’, for she is fat and happy.” The amusement slid off her face as she got to her feet, the wooden floor creaking beneath her. “Can you say the same for your people, young prince?

3. Ascension, Creation Myth

It is said that the sun was born first, and lived alone for thousands years in her palace of clouds. This was a time when the land had not yet formed, so as she gazed down at the world below, she saw only the endless blue sea. She took comfort in the monotony of the glittering mirror that reflected her melancholic existence. It was nice to have the world to herself, but it was lonely and unchanging. When she would sleep, sometimes she would open her eyes, hoping to see something new, but all she saw was light. Her light.

4. Ascension, Prologue

Before Lady Itis severed the soul of the woman she loved, she gave her one last kiss. The taste, once so sweet, turned bitter as they parted, and how could it not with all the blood between them? The war had ended, but man’s violence was unforgiving and ceaseless. Itis had grown used to seeing the shadows of grief in Queen Sadira’s eyes, but they had consumed her as of late, leaving a fractured shell in her place. When she came to her and asked to be sealed beneath the earth, Itis felt no surprise, only deep sorrow.

5. Tomb of Light, Ch. 4

“Well, well, well.” A voice said just above his head. He twisted his neck and looked directly into a pair of the most beautiful eyes he had ever seen. They were a deep blue, so dark they were nearly black, with tiny starbursts of silver around slitted black pupils. Slitted pupils? They floated above a low-hanging tree branch. As he watched, the branch brightened into a pleasant shade of moss green, revealing an otherworldly creature so strange he nearly collapsed at the sight of it.

It was a cat, he guessed, or a cat with some sort of flesh-eating disease that had left it completely hairless. As it stretched out its tiny feet he noticed it had long, webbed toes that bent back at awkward angles. Upon closer examination he determined the cat was not only hairless, but covered in tiny scales like the snakes he used to find in his backyard, though these scales looked much softer. He watched as they changed color once more, this time to bright yellow.

6. ToL, Ch. 6

It was then he was forced to acknowledge what he had been avoiding–he was disgraced, just like her, and no amount of posturing would convince people to ignore the shadow that had settled over him once his uniform had been stripped away. He was a fool to think he could outrun it. The plain black trousers, gray tunic and black boots were all he had left–even his beloved sword, a gift from his father, had been taken from him. He had nothing left but a bitter taste in his mouth and the looming shadow of the girl he loved.

“I don’t know what to do,” he said finally, lowering his head.

“Then stand aside and wait for someone to tell you.”

There it was–control, just within reach, slipping through his fingers like smoke.

7. What We Long For (abandoned WIP)

“As time passed, I watched the small lines on her forehead become more pronounced and her black hair became peppered with gray before she reached the age of 30. I asked her about it once, when I was nothing more than a bratty high school freshman with poor social skills.

She gave me one of her biggest smiles. ‘Who even cares about wrinkles? One day you’ll realize that all of the marks on your skin, every scar, every freckle–they make up constellations that tell the story of how you lived to see another day.’”

Gently tagging: @writingmaidenwarrior @athenswrites @talesofsorrowandofruin @pandoras-comment-box @mysticstarlightduck @pheita @mthollowell-writes

[spacepup2-0]

Dragons Heart (New Views)

A new writer showing my stories. I welcome criticism as long as it's constructive. I have ten chapters already up on Ao3 so check it out if you want! Chapters may or may not be cut short due to word limits.

Chapter One

Next Chapter

Summary:

A farmer, Dakota, goes to town to buy some seasonings for his mother and ends up buying a dragon scale from a merchant. Little does he know about the scale he just bought.

A comforting aroma filled the small cottage as food sat atop a stove to boil, it wasn't much but it was good enough for breakfast. With a yawn, Dakota pulled himself out of bed and rubbed his crusty eyes. Dakota's bed sat to the right of the door with the window on the opposite wall of the door. His dresser sat right in front of his bed, barely filled with any clothes and mostly just trinkets that he either bought or found. With a big stretch he cracked his back and got up to change, quickly pulling off his shorts and t-shirt and grabbing his favorite, and only overalls. He struggled to get his overalls past his thighs, but he managed by making a new hole in the leg, but it was fine, he almost had enough for a bigger pair of overalls. Grabbing a cheap brush and a cloth, he heads to the bathroom to brush out his messy hair.

His black choppy hair that came down to his shoulders complimented his almond-colored skin and his brown eyes. He brushed out his hair until it was the way he liked it, he would need another haircut soon since it was getting a bit too long for his liking, but it can, for now he needed to go downstairs and eat some breakfast. So, he quickly washed his face and brushed his teeth before slipping on some socks. Placing his brush down and quickly grabbing his hat, he rushed out of the room and down the hall.

"Morning mama!" he exclaimed with a big smile as he sat his hat near the door hanger. Dakota was a head taller than his mother, standing at 6'0 while his mother stood at 5'4'. He took mostly after his father with a big build and defined muscle while his mother had a softer look to her, not to say he got nothing from his mother because he got the soft cheeks and a kind personality.

"Good morning, Dakota," She chuckled, amused at his excitement this morning. "Did you sleep well?"

"Better than last time!" He said while reaching up to grab some seasoning, taking it down he noticed that the bottle was empty. Looking at the others he found that most of them were empty. His mother frowned as she looked at the empty bottles before walking out the kitchen, shortly returning with a pouch.

"This is all I have, go ahead and buy some more for me please?" She asked, though Dakota knew it was more of a demand, so he nodded and gently grabbed the pouch.

"If there's any left then can I buy something for myself?" He wouldn't be disappointed if he couldn't, Afterall it wouldn't be the first time he had to sacrifice his own wants to get something he needed.

"Only if there's left over coins." His mother said, giving him a teasing glare before turning around to continue chopping the vegetables as Dakota picked up his hat from the hanger and slipped on his shoes.

"I'll be quick mama!" He shouted before walking out, He took a deep breath of the summer air and made his way down the trail to the Town of Sunpass. He could feel the dirt under his thin shoes, he mentally added shoes to his list of things he needed to replace. He had a lot of things that needed to be replaced, shoes, clothes, tiles, maybe not the tiles though, he liked how they creaked under his weight anytime he walked around the house. It wasn’t too annoying where he wanted to fix it right away, it became a familiar sound, and he didn't think he could go without it. Dakota didn't see much on the trail, he never did except for the occasional deer, birds, or squirrels. He picked up his pace as he saw the town arriving in the distance.

“Morning!” Dakota greeted as he walked into town, the guards offering only a small nod of acknowledgement to him. He inhaled the different smells of baked goods and listened to the sounds of carriages and horses. “Soon this will all be gone...” he thought as he walked around. The nearby city of Silfast, the Silver City was expanding and soon his small town would be apart of it. Maybe it was for the better though. He and his mom could get a better income with more buyers. A gruff voice came from beside him.

“Morning, looking for some seasonings?” Dakota already knew who it was just from the sound of his voice, Mr. Himes, though most just called him grandpa or gramps since he’s been here the longest.

“Gramps! Just what I was looking for!” Dakota smiled at him, and Mr. Himes started grabbing various seasonings to set on the stand, Dakota took out the pouch his mother gave him and took out the coins he needed. He did this often, so he knew the exact number of coins he needed to buy the seasonings. Mr. Himes gave him the seasonings as Dakota set the coins on the stand. He placed the items in his bag and turned to leave, looking behind him to wave bye.

“Here you go, have a nice day gramps!” a bright smile on his face as he turned back around, he had some left-over change, so he decided to see what goods people were selling before heading back home to his mom. He walked through the streets, looking at stalls selling a multitude of items.

“Toys, pans, blankets, pastries, potions..." he continued to look until the shine of a yellow dragon scale caught his eye, quickly shifting his bag to a better position he started speed walking to the stand. The person behind the stand looked up from their book and gave a malicious grin that Dakota was unaware of.

“Good day, looking for something?” he asked, his voice higher pitched.

“How much for the scale?” Dakota inquired, pointing to the hanging scale behind the merchant. A hum left the merchant's lips as he reached behind him and grabbed the scale, placing it on the table.

“Two copper coins.” He stated. Dakotas eyes widen, “Only copper?! A scale like this would be at least 10 gold coins!!” Dakota thought before clearing his throat, perhaps this was nothing but a fake scale or maybe this person was blind.Dakota stuttered over his words.“A-Are you sure? Only two copper coins?” The merchant's face went from content to an annoyed glare.

“Did I not say two coppers?!” The merchant just about shouted. Just a glance around could tell you that people had started to look their way so as not to make a scene, Dakota quickly took out two copper coins to pay. The merchants quickly went back to being content.

“Thank you for buying from me!” The merchant handed Dakota the scale and took the copper coins. Dakota felt happy that he bought the scale, even if it was fake, but it was pretty either way.

“Right, mom must be waiting for me to come back with the seasonings in order to start cooking.” So, he quickly shoved the scale in his pocket and made his way towards the exit of town and to the trail back home.

[superealme]

night drives w txt 1/4

“get in loser, we’re going stargazing!” a driver’s voice sounds from across the empty street, nestled in between the whirring of a car engine.

you peek out from your curtains, slide open your window and whisper scream at the people in the car. or rather, your group of loud, dramatic best friends.

“what the fuck guys?!??!! It’s 2am on a Thursday and I told y’all in chat I was busy!”

Another voice, this one softer and mellower retorts back, “with what? fangirling over park bogum and pretending that’s work? bitch please; do something productive and get out of that house for once, would you?”

you’d hate to admit it, but soobin’s right.

“argh fine you doofuses, I’m coming I’m coming; Beomgyu get in the back seat- I’m sitting shotgun.”

you hoist yourself up- swing your legs out of the window stealthily, then reaching back quickly to grab your phone laying on the nightstand. you take a deep breath- and jump; landing feet first soundlessly on your front lawn. one too many nights like these has made you practically a pro at scaling the short jump from your second floor balcony, sneaking out without your parent’s noticing in the wee hours of the morning.

the night is cold, wind nipping at your bare ankles as you didn’t have the time to change out of your thin pajamas. you skitter over to the car just in time to watch the spectacle happening in the car- red haired yeonjun in the drivers seat, one hand on the steering wheel other reaching back in an attempt to quell the commotion. soobin sitting on the right, nagging and swatting at a pissed beomgyu, trying to get him to sit down. sweet sweet taehyun peers over silently on the left, a book about quantum physics in one hand and a glass Tupperware of grapes in the other, mouth chewing away at fruit like a squirrel. beomgyu continues to argue at the unfair seating arrangement, pissed having been uprooted out of his comfortable passenger seat and being forced to sit in the middle seat between well mannered taehyun and exasperated soobin, arms folded across his torso, legs splayed in the air for absolutely no reason at all.

the sight makes you chuckle, swinging open the passenger door and you slide into the seat next to yeonjun peacefully. you peer back, scanning the boys one by one and a question pops into your mind.

“where’s hueningie?”

“I’m here~~~~~”

You look down beneath the seats to see a boy with silky black hair, laying horizontally on top of the other’s feet, mouth stretched out in a hearty smile, hand raised to meet yours in a high-five. After years of friendship, the boys’ eccentricity doesn’t faze you at all.

“are we ready?” yeonjun adjusts the rearview mirror, and everyone replies with some iteration of yes, which signals to the red head that it’s time to go. He pulls the vehicle out of its parking spot across from your house and the car begins to cruise down your neighborhood streets. Taehyun taps your shoulder to give you a pack of your favorite cheese crackers, Beomgyu and Soobin are still at each other’s throats, this time arguing about who has the bigger butt and who should sit in the middle seat. Heuning is oddly quiet, but you assume that the boy is most likely sound asleep on the floor cuddling one of his penguin plushies.

“what should we listen to?” yeonjun begins again, and Beomgyu reaches for the aux immediately. “middle seat deserves aux rights. I’m being squished between two muscle pigs- at least let me listen to good music,” which earns him a glare and a smack from Soobin. “OW!”

“settle down, settle down guys,” yeonjun sighs but eyes still focused on the road. “we’ve got a lot to do tonight, don’t tire yourselves out just yet.”

this makes you lift your eyes up from your phone screen.

“we do?”

“yes babe. our schedules are packed tonight, no time to waste,” he responds sweetly with a wink.

the car continues to speed off into the night as an IU ballad from Beomgyu’s playlist sounds over the car stereo. The mood is warm and calming- and you feel your eyelids droop until you’re fast asleep.

[ask-the-clergy-bc]

Have you described the ghoul's tails yet?Maybe era 3-4?

Ghoul anatomy is a favorite! <3  Threw in some extra ghouls too! :)

Era 3 + 4 Ghoul Tails! 

Omega: A thick, darker skinned tail with a spade that has a V like barb shape on the bottom. Not terribly pointed but enough to have a distinct silhouette!  It’s actually very soft to touch but very strong. 

Alpha: Common for many fire ghouls, a shorter tail that’s about a little more half his height. The spade is asymmetrical and has one barb that is hook like on the top that’s quite sharp on the edge. Only slightly thicker where it connects to his lower back. 

Air: Long and incredibly prehensile, more than the average ghoul! Constantly able to coil like a snack and even trip people if he so wished. The end of the tail is barbed and wicked, with a few small spikes lining just under the tip. 

Water: A more oceanic ghoul tail, as it’s thicker than a standard tail. It does taper off at the tip, that has a spade like a smaller shark tail fin. Has two extra fins at the base of his tail. The bottom of his tail is slightly paler than the rest of it. 

Earth: It’s shorter than an average ghoul tail length, but it’s proportionate it to his height. As a plains earth ghoul he has a bit of fur and fluff on the end of his tail, right under the spade! His tail is thicker with a flatter spade at the tip. 

Special: An almost serpent like tail that is pitch black, standing out against the grey of his flesh. It tends to curl like a cartoon and never stops moving. The spade at the end is almost comically cartoon shaped, but thin like the head of an old ink pen. 

Cowbell: Unfortunately, does not has a cow like tail! Much to the disappoint of everyone who knows his nick name! The spade of his tail looks like an actual spade in a deck of cards, rounded on the sides and is sat on the end of a longer tail. It’s very average size, think of the girth of circumference of about three fingers. 

Mist: Another oceanic ghoul like tail, but thinner than Water’s. Dark scales line where it connects to her lower back and on the small fin like spade at the end. The bottom is the same grey as her skin, but darker on top and spotted around where her scales end. 

Ember: Short like a typical fire ghoul, but looks smaller due to being proportion to his height. Very dark at the spade but fades to his normal grey skin color at the base. Double hooked at the spade and actually very sharp. Tends to wag when he’s excited or up to mischief.  

Aether: Shorter but super thick. Still manages to be pretty flexible, especially at the bottom of the spade. The same color as his skin but at the very tip of his spade it has a dark blush. His spade has soft sides and is very silky to touch! 

Mountain: Very long and thick, but consistent size through out the entire length. Hurts if it accidentally ever hits you. The spade is slightly bigger than average but doesn’t have pointed sides- it has more of a smooth shape. His tail is darker than the rest of his skin. 

Cumulus: Very long tail, longer than her height! Half way up her tail it starts to gradient into a black tip. Asymmetrical spade that’s bigger on the top, but both ends are rounded. Like Air’s tends to curl back towards her body into a loose spiral. 

Cirrus: Also long but almost completely black until it hits her lower back. Has a barbed, sharp spade and a couple of spikes under it. Tends to lay straight and doesn’t move as much, so it can be hard to tell her mood based on it. 

Rain: Very long tail with a fin like spade at the bottom- the tail is almost as long as he is. It has a line of scales on the top of it the same light blue color as the scales under his ears/gills. The base of his tail is thicker where it connects to his lower back and gets thinner as it goes to the tip.  

Swiss: Actually long for a fire ghoul, thanks to his mixed elemental genes. Has a soft hooked spade like Alpha’s, but the edges are softer and not as pronounced. Extra prehensile and he often like to holds things with it. His favorite party trick is using his tail to open bottles.  

[whimperwoods]

Part 9 of Gozukk and Anna

Anna has a doctor’s appointment. Gozukk turns down an offer to join the church. Jak helps out.

[Note: One of the d&d canon things I particularly don’t like is that the ‘evil races’ have their own separate evil gods particular to their race. I’m aware that there are halfling and elf and dwarf pantheons also, but the thing is that those generally have deities of multiple alignments (rather than only evil ones) and those communities seem to be allowed to serve any gods they want, in practice. In my d&d world, orcs can too, and this particular tribe, to the extent to which they’re religious, is affiliated with Kelemvor. Not everyone worships him, and there are some individuals with other faiths, but he’s the god they have a shrine and a cleric for/from. (I’m not sure it matters that much from a worldbuilding standpoint, but I’ve taken an overall position of “no-race-specific deities,” which does also throw Moradin and the like out with the bathwater, but that’s probably alright.)]

The masterpost is here and includes a cheat sheet with character names, since the list of people she’s met in the community just keeps getting bigger.

tw: slavery (past), tw: PTSD, tw: past rape/noncon (barely referenced), tw: past abuse, tw: fantasy religion (no religious trauma), tw: panic attack, tw: drug reference (past), tw: date rape drug (past)

Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist!

Tag list: @redwingedwhump, @nine-tailed-whump, @thehurtsandthecomfurts @kixngiggles, @bluebadgerwhump, @dragonheart905, @carolinethedragon, @whumpzone, @newbornwhumperfly, @cupcakes-and-pain, @much-ado-about-whumping

****

Anna’s legs shook faintly as the healer shouted for her and her master to enter, but she tried to keep her face steady as she ducked under Gozukk’s arm and in through the flap of the tent.

The space was small but comfortable, the furnishings generally not quite as nice as Gozukk’s, with the exception of a smallish but very fine altar, richly carved from solid wood. A set of heavy brass scales sat on it, held up by a skeletal hand, the same image that was carved along its sides, and that she recognized from the box in Gozukk’s room, and a small collection of candles sat around it.

Gozukk knelt briefly in front of the altar, going down on one knee with a quick bow and then rising to his feet again before turning to the healer, Mukzod. “I’m sure you’ve heard plenty about our newest guest,” he said calmly, as if he hadn’t paused at all. Anna felt certain she should kneel, too, but somehow she found herself frozen, unable to move farther into the tent, or to do anything at all.

Mukzod was dressed in dark grey robes, well-made and clean, with the same skeleton-arm scales embroidered carefully across his chest, but looked fresh-faced, too young for such serious, formal vestments. He was a half head shorter than Gozukk but just as wide, with dark messy hair that flopped into his eyes as he nodded toward her and made her shudder and freeze up. He looked almost nothing like Master Kir, but that hair, the length of it, the little flick of his head to get it out of his eyes - her chest tightened with fear, her breath shortening.

The healer’s smile was warm, but she couldn’t slow her racing heart.

“Hello, guest. Anna, is it? Did I hear correctly?”

Her mouth was dry and she couldn’t answer. Gozukk reached a hand halfway toward her, but then stopped and she suddenly, desperately wished he hadn’t, wished she could bury her face in his chest and not see this new stranger, with his new hair, and his new tent. But that was a foolish thing to wish, wasn’t it?

“Yes,” Gozukk answered, his voice softer now, as if to put her at ease even though he was talking to the healer. “You’ve heard right. I already know she’s wounded, but I want to make sure she isn’t also cursed or marked or being tracked.”

“You know, if you just gave a little bit more of yourself to Kelemvor, you could do it yourself,” Mukzod said jovially. “We all know your piety is genuine.”

Gozukk laughed. “For the last time, cleric, a paladin oath is out of the question. The tribe has to come first. You know that. A holy life is not in my cards.”

Mukzod held his hands up, “I know, I know! I only ask because I know you’d be good at it.”

Anna watched the exchange, trying to follow. Kelemvor was - was a god of - of something. Scales. Justice? But no, that was Tyr, everybody knew that. The skeleton, though - the skeleton - her eyes widened, and her body began to shake.

“I - I didn’t realize you worshipped - umm -” Her voice was thin, tense, and surely one of them would bark at her to speak up. She tensed, awaiting a slap for interrupting, or for doing it poorly, or both. Instead, both men turned slowly to look at her, their posture open, hands away from her.

“It’s alright, Anna,” Gozukk said, “He’s not a god of death. He’s a god of the dead, which is something else.”

Mukzod had his hands up, the palms out toward her. “The chief is right. We don’t kill, not unless we have to. Not unless we’re fighting undead things. I’m more about healing. And curing diseases. And burying bodies we find unattended in the desert, which happens a little more often than one would hope.”

She shivered. She’d seen a body like that, had watched the men in the caravan dragging another man’s corpse away from the hooves and wheels that had crushed him to death, only to leave him lying in a heap alongside their caravan route and keep moving at Master Kir’s orders.

She opened her mouth to ask if they’d found the man from the caravan, if they’d buried him properly, but then she couldn’t. What if they thought she’d had something to do with it? She still remembered the beating she’d gotten after they stopped that night, how unsure she’d been whether her master thought she’d done something to distract the dead man, or whether he was just frustrated. She’d known her place. She hadn’t needed to be reminded. She didn’t need to be reminded now.

She sank onto her knees and felt both safer and less safe, in over her head and drowning in uncertainty.

Gozukk knelt beside her again, taking her hands gently in his own, so gently she could have pulled away, but she knew her place, and maybe soon he would realize she knew it and she wouldn’t have to be so scared.

“It’s alright, Anna,” he said, running his thumb gently over her knuckles. “You don’t have to worship him. Plenty of folks don’t. But I do, and Mukzod does, and he’s got some magic that can help you, if that man did anything that’s lingering.” He scowled, but over her shoulder, not at her. “Anything magical, anyway.”

The cleric placed one hand on her shoulder and the other on Gozukk’s and she flinched heavily before she could stop herself.

“Is it alright if I do a quick magic detection spell? If all is well, I’ll won’t see anything, and we’ll know the human doesn’t have any magical hooks into you. If there is something, I’ll have to do some tests, but we can fix that, too.”

His voice was soothing, but she couldn’t look at him, couldn’t look at the hair falling into his eyes, scraping his shoulders around the back of his neck. She was shaking, and she couldn’t stop. She gripped Gozukk’s hands tighter, hoping he would allow her nearer. He squeezed back gently and she scooted forward on her knees until she was close enough to whisper into his ear.

“Please, Sir -” she flinched, but decided not to correct herself and maybe he wouldn’t notice, “I - can I -” He let go of one of her hands and then reached up and brushed her hair behind her ear, a gesture that was increasingly becoming a familiar one. She steeled herself and caught her breath. “May I put my head on your shoulder again, please? Like yesterday, when I was -” she didn’t have a word for what she was, “Please, Gozukk, I’m sorry I’m weak, I just - I can - I can do this. I can be good, please, I just - I need - please.” Her breath gave out, her body shaking even harder.

Yesterday, she’d leaned into him with both of their hands between them, his pressing hers to his chest. Now, he wrapped one arm around her carefully, keeping hold of her hand with his other one and drawing her just slightly closer. “Is this alright?” he whispered into the space between them, “Does this help?”

She shook, and wasn’t sure how to answer, but she knew what she’d wanted at first, knew what she’d wanted, and thought she still wanted it. She leaned her forehead against his shoulder, her breath coming in deep gasps, and he removed his arm from the small of her back as she kept fighting for air, tracing his fingers through her hair at the temple instead.

“It’s alright,” he said, “I’m here to help.”

After a moment of his arm hovering beside her, he let it fall to his side, not touching her as she knelt up against him, watching him breathe and trying to time her breaths to his.

“Are you ready for the spell?” he asked.

She nodded against his shoulder.

“We’re ready, Mukzod.”

Nothing happened. The cleric said a few words in a language she didn’t understand, and then he fell silent, the air in the room unchanged.

“Nope, all clear,” he said after a moment. “Your pendant’s lighting up like a candle, Chief, and the altar, and some of my stuff, so the spell’s working, but she’s not got any magic on her. Not that lingers, anyway. I can try a dispulsion anyway, but as far as I can tell, there’s nothing there to dispel.”

Gozukk leaned his cheek against her temple, sighing in relief. “There we go. You’re safe. Now we know it for sure.”

“I -” Mukzod cleared his throat. “Can I be of any other service? I’d thought you might have come for healing. Or perhaps a calming spell?”

A calming spell? Anna had never heard of that, but as soon as she thought too hard about it, she found herself remembering the times Master Kir had - what had that been - he’d put something in the wine, she’d known there was something in the wine, but he’d made her drink it anyway, made her drink it, made her choke trying to swallow as he forced it down her throat and then he’d - and then he’d -”

She sobbed, her head suddenly spinning, her entire body tingling like there were bees buzzing just inside her skin, and her head on Gozukk’s shoulder wasn’t enough to keep it at bay, wasn’t enough to keep anything at bay, wasn’t - wasn’t -

She grabbed desperately for the front of his shirt, closing her hand into a fist around the fabric and forcing herself to keep breathing. His free hand came up alongside her head, but he didn’t quite touch her, just kept it hovering there, like he was shielding her from the sun. As another wrenching sob tore itself from her throat, she pulled herself closer to him, into that protection, and everything else be damned.

“We’re done for the day,” Gozukk said, his voice rough-edged with anger, like it never was when he talked to her, and she flinched but didn’t dare pull away, couldn’t afford it when he was the only thing steadying her spinning head, couldn’t afford it when it might make him angry, couldn’t - couldn’t - she couldn’t breathe. She gasped for air.

"She’s allowed to feel what she feels,” he snapped at the cleric, “She’s doing fine.”

His own breathing wasn’t quite as steady as she knew it could be, deepening as if he were holding himself together, holding back the snarl she could hear at the edge of his voice.

But then the snarl was gone, and his voice was velvet-gentle again, his hand stroking carefully through her hair. “It’s alright, Anna. You did well. It’s been a stressful day. You don’t have to do anything more. Mukzod just wants you safe, same as me.”

The gentleness was for her. It was just for her, and she was a fool, and she believed it, and she knew she was a fool, but she could feel herself starting to shake apart, could feel the way the buzz under her skin threatened to become the way she felt in the dark, at night, like a fire burning itself out, like she was dying a piece at a time, reducing herself to ash as she went, and she couldn’t. She couldn’t die now, not while she was in a place she was fool enough to half-believe might be better.

“Do you want me to carry you back home?” he asked, his voice still soft, rumbling through his chest and under her cheek, and when had she twisted her head sideways like this, resting more fully on his shoulder? “Or do you want to wait it out here and then we can walk back together? I think you need some quiet for a little bit. You can take another nap, like yesterday. You’re still healing.”

She wrapped her arms around his neck, letting go of the front of his shirt, and he took it as an answer, rearranging immediately to gather her up in his arms and cradle her against his chest.

When he rose to his feet still holding her, she didn’t shudder this time, but she wondered if that was only because to shake any more than she was already shaking might be to shake herself to pieces.

The softness in his voice was gone as he looked up at the cleric and ordered, “Open the flap for me,” all of a sudden in control again, the chief whose feet she had been thrown down in front of. But then he was bending his neck to speak softly in her ear again, the gentleness returned to his voice. “Squeeze my neck when you’re ready for me to walk, and we’ll go. Just tell me when you’re steady.”

She squeezed his neck, desperate to be away from here, as if the bees in her skin would leave her alone out in the sun.

They didn’t, but Gozukk let her bury her face in the side of his neck and kept holding her, his arms solid around her and his breath steady, now, soothing.

Halfway back to the tent, small footsteps joined them, a voice she didn’t recognize piping up from below. “Whoa, Uncle Gozukk, is something wrong?”

“Get the flap when we get to my tent, Jak,” he said, the imperiousness gone again, as if it had never been, his voice warm and normal, but without the particular softness he seemed to save for her, and what did that mean? She sobbed in spite of herself, about nothing, or maybe about everything, but her head was full of bees and her skin was full of bees and she couldn’t think.

“She’ll be alright once she has a little peace and quiet,” Gozukk explained, tone patient, “She’s just a little overwhelmed.”

A small hand patted her dangling ankle and she pulled away instinctively before she realized the boy was no threat.

“Oh,” he said, “That makes sense. Does she need a calm down cloth?”

She could feel Gozukk’s chuckle, deep in his chest. “Yeah, that might not be a bad idea. Why don’t you go get one after you help me inside? And then you can go back to whatever it is you’re supposed to be doing.”

“Got it!” The footsteps sped up, then stopped again, waiting for them to catch up.

Anna clung to Gozukk the rest of the way to the tent, relieved when Jak’s footsteps pattered away as soon as she and Gozukk were inside.

The fine chair he’d been seated in to meet the caravan was inside, now, set behind the table in the front room, and Gozukk settled her into it. She grabbed at its arms, surprised, and squeezed them tighter when Gozukk squatted down in front of her to look in her eyes. She couldn’t get out of the chair and down to his level. He didn’t want that. She had to stay. She had to stay.

Her breathing was still ragged, too fast, and she knew it, but she couldn’t do anything about it.

“Anna, can you hear me?”

Everything was still too much, his words clear enough to make sense, but then immediately gone to her, as if they had never been. She nodded, trying to keep hold of the question.

“Alright. You did a good job this morning. I want to make sure you know that. It’s alright if you need to stay in here the rest of the day. I’ll try to come check on you when it’s time for lunch, but if you get hungry before I come back, you can go find Djaana or one of the twins, and they’ll look after you.”

She was breathing. That, she was sure of. His voice was soothing, reassuring, and the things he was saying were reassuring, and she couldn’t make them mean anything. She nodded. Reassuring. He was being reassuring. She could be reassured. She kept breathing.

Gozukk nodded back. Her breathing eased a little. Good. He was pleased.

Jak came running in, and she got a good look at him for the first time. He had the same dark hair as Djaana and Gozukk, but his eyes were a lighter color, a green she hadn’t expected, and even with some lingering baby roundness to his face, she could tell there was something about his cheekbones that must be like his father. Gozukk stuck a hand out to slow the boy before he could run all the way to her, and he blushed, looking bashful.

“Oh. Sorry. I forgot about the quiet.” He held out a damp, white cloth, in her direction, and she wasn’t sure what to do but take it.

The boy’s green eyes stared at her, his arm drifting behind his back so he could wrap his hand around his elbow, still staring. “Thank you,” she said quietly, aware that her breathing was loud and her voice wasn’t.

“Why don’t you explain to Anna how it works, just in case her mama and grandmother didn’t teach her?” Gozukk asked, something of the softness he always aimed at her in his voice as he addressed the boy.

“Yeah!” Jak said, his face brightening! “It’s easy, Miss Anna! You just put it on the back of your neck, and it’s nice and cool so it feels good, and then you just breathe real steady and think about cooling down and noticing that it feels good, and then when it gets dry, you can go back outside and play or try what you were doing again. Or I guess you can - I dunno. What do you like doing?”

She had no answer, but there wasn’t enough time for it to become awkward. Gozukk laid a hand on Jak’s shoulder. “Why don’t you wait and ask her that in a couple of days? You wouldn’t like it if somebody asked you a bunch of questions while you were trying to calm down, would you?”

“Oh! No!” He mimed locking his mouth closed with a key and tucking it into his pocket, and Anna found herself smiling in spite of everything. She put the cloth against the back of her neck to prove she’d been trying to listen, though there was a lot he said that she hadn’t been able to keep ahold of, the words slipping through her fingers as half of her kept getting wrapped up in her own breath.

He was right. It felt lovely, cool and soft. She closed her eyes, half instinctively, and managed a deeper breath.

She could hear a smile in Gozukk’s voice as he said, “Take all the time you need. We’ll be back to check on you at lunch time.”

Then both sets of footsteps walked away, out the door, and she was alone.

She slid out of the chair and onto her knees, where she felt more herself, but kept the cloth where it was, steadying her breathing as much as she could and thinking about the coolness, the dry air pulling water from the cloth, the dampness sitting against her skin, and nobody touching her.

When the cloth dried, she wasn’t calm, but she was close.

[watchtower-feed]

BatDragon

Batfamily ✧ 1 ✧

     The fight had run long and everyone is exhausted. While Bruce is away on a top-secret intergalactic League mission, all of his wards decided to work as a team to take down Black Mask and his men. Only because it’s been a particularly unusual job, unusual even for Gotham. Black Mask had outsourced manpower from Bane himself to protect his precious cargo, a single chest the size of a serving platter. It was enough for all of them to be cautious and actually work together.

     The Red Hood is making sure every single hired muscle is tied up and unconscious. “Damn. Black Mask sure gave us a fight for this one.” He rubs his gloved hands together while he walks toward the chest. “Makes you wonder what’s inside.”

     Nightwing, Robin, Red Robin, Spoiler, Orphan, and the Signal have been circling the cargo as well. Scanning it. Observing it. It’s not made out of gold or silver, just a metal chest with a few dents on it from being roughly handled and eventually dropped during the fight.

     Finally, cautiously, Robin and Red Robin squat down beside it to examine the locks. It’s nothing advanced. In fact, they were just multiple bulky old-fashioned locks. Quietly, the two of them worked together on opening it.

     The tension and anticipation are so thick in the air until Spoiler couldn’t stand the silence any longer. “What is it?” She asked as soon as Robin’s gloved hands are holding the lid and lifting it slowly.

     Red Robin is the first to see a glinting sheen. “Some kind of precious stone?” he remarks. When Robin has the lid all the way down, all of them could see the thing that’s inside. “Not a stone--”

     “An egg,” Robin finishes.

     “Ohmygod,” Nightwing interrupts, “Are we doing Eragon--”

     His mouth hangs open. All of their eyes are glued to the egg in front of them as it rocked in its place and then the sound of a tiny crack echoed inside the harbor warehouse and made their hearts stop. They watch the small intermittent ruptures extend until it finally formed a jagged piece. A piece that’s pushed out by you.

     “It hatched.”

     Your small black claws grip the edge of the egg as you slowly peak over the opening. There are seven gigantic figures crouching down and looking at you closely. They blink. So you blink.

✧ ✧ ✧

     “Who did she look at first?” Jason’s chest rumbles when he speaks and you find the vibration soothing. “Because she’s definitely imprinting on me right now.”

     Tim rolls his eyes as Jason secures you more firmly in his arms and against his chest. You nuzzle the tip of your mouth against the soft thin fabric of his undershirt. “After hatching from the egg she needs to be incubated. It only makes sense that she’d latch onto you ‘cause you’re the one with the strongest body heat here.”

     Your soft claws dig into Jason’s bear arms after hearing Tim’s voice, another soothing sensation to your newfound senses.

     Suddenly, a golden curtain sneaks up on your vision and you’re met with another one of your giants. “I have body heat, too,” she whines. Then, with a gentler voice she speaks to you, “Hey, little you. Wanna come to mama? I bet I’m a lot softer than this rugged old man.”

     Jason tries to tuck you away from her but you’re already crawling towards Steph. She snorts in victory as you settle on her chest. Her bare skin is a lot gentler on your soft scales.

     Two other heads lower down to look at you and you welcome them both by flicking out your tongue and touching the tips of their noses. Cass laughs at the wetness while Dick pouts.

     “How come she’s not acting like the dragon from the movie?” He reaches for your featherless wings, “She hasn’t even opened them once--” and tries to pull on them, causing you to hiss in fear.

     He quickly retracts his arm and spouts rushed apologies. From the few hours they’ve known you, they at least know that you do not like your limbs being pulled.

     Damian walks in with a scowl on his face while nursing his bandaged hand. “What did you do?” he accuses Dick right away.

     “He tried to pull on her wings,” Duke spits out right away. Everyone shifts their glares at him because he still hasn’t gotten rid of his instinct to tattle, a habit that’s gravely unwelcome among Batman’s wards.

     “Tsk.” Damian walks up to Steph to examine you closely, making sure you’re unhurt. He’s also close enough for you to lick his nose. Your smallest giant. The giant who helped you climb out of your egg and onto his harm.

     Damian was so curious at your mysterious physique that he couldn’t help running his fingers along your trunk and then pulling on the spiked ball that was the tip of your tail. So you bit him.

     Everyone shouted and Duke swatted you away making you fall on the ground. Scared and helpless. But it was Damian who extended his other hand again and picked you up to take you home.

     You’ve been staring at him long enough that Steph gently hands you to him. Damian carries you with both of his hands. You may only be a little longer than his forearm, but you easily extend beyond his embrace.

     “I’m taking her with me to Nanda Parbat.”

     Angry gasps fill the room and you watch tensely as your bigger giants quickly surround him. 

     “What?”

     “Give her back,” Steph’s the only one who stomps toward Damian.

     Damian doesn’t step back. “The manor is no place to raise a dragon.”

     “But it’s enough for a demon,” Jason quips, “and we’ve survived.”

     “The League of Assassins is centuries old. My family is the greatest source we have to find out more about her species.”

     “Good lord.”

     Everyone turns and freezes the moment they see Alfred in his robe and nightdress. His hands are shaking while he ties his robe around his waist and stares wide-eyed at you. You blink at the new older giant who’s standing underneath the doorway. He doesn’t blink back.

     “Alfred, we can explain--”

     “You brought home a baby dragon…”

     Finally, once the absurdity of it all has been voiced out, Bruce’s wards can finally feel the gravity of this single night.

✧ ✧ ✧

     Batman is too far out in another galaxy to be reached and his wards didn’t want the League to know about you. In their eyes, your giants are still children and they would take you away from them.

     Instead, another family member was called.

     When Ra’s Al Ghul makes it to the manor’s front door alongside his daughter, he stops. They turn to each other and wonder if they should just break-in. But they didn’t come here to intrude. Damian had invited them over and so they knock and wait.

     There’s nothing more surreal than the Al Ghul’s having tea with Alfred and Bruce’s wards, everyone out of their costumes and combat gear. Well almost everyone.

     “Why aren’t you guys in costume? That’s Ra’s Al Ghul,” the Signal whispers behind his cup of tea.

     “‘Cause he’s Ra’s Al Ghul,” Tim answers. “If anyone knows who we are, he would.”

     Jason leans in and gives the Signal his own two-cents, “Plus, they came to the manor and not the cave. That should’ve been your heads up.”

     Frustrated, he takes off his mask and sinks into his chair, letting the previous silence continue to grow in the Wayne sitting room.

     Then Dick breaks it, “So Damian told you and you came here, huh?”

     Talia smiles while her father continues to drink his tea with his eyes shut. “Wouldn’t you?” she teases, “I’m sure even beloved himself would come down from his perch if you had told him there’s a dragon in the manor.” Talia watches in amusement as Bruce’s wards swallow. She turns to Jason for confirmation. After having been raised by Talia after his resurrection, he knew he couldn’t lie to her so he looks away. “So you truly haven’t told him.”

     Finally, Damian walks back into the room with Steph who’s been holding you gently against her chest while you slept. When you pick up the new scents in the room, you immediately wake up and turn to them.

     To everyone’s surprise, Ra’s Al Ghul quickly stands. He stares at you. And very slowly he walks forward to meet you. He gazes down. Old ancient eyes study you deeply while you stare at him and blink.

     Of course, a living breathing dragon would be something the League is interested in-- something he’s interested in. After centuries on this Earth, he has never seen one and has at least once wondered if they truly exist. But today his grandson offers him that experience.

     Only to be disappointed.

     “This is nothing but a lizard.”

✧ 1 ✧

✧ Watchtower Masterlist ✧

[theatresweetheart]

Crash Landing

Warnings: Non-descriptive crash landing, swearing, non-graphic broken wrist, fear, anxious thoughts.

Pairing: Platonic Moxiety

Wort Count: 3231 words

Characters: Virgil, Patton, Logan and Roman (mentioned but not present)

A/n: I have had this in my drafts forever. I’ve finally given myself the time to finish it up! Which was nice, since I haven’t written anything g/t related in a while! This was certainly refreshing and fun!

                                         ——————————

“Contact with Home Base has been disrupted.”

This was not good.

This was really, really not good. He had made a list of everything that could go wrong and this exact situation just happened to top the list by far.

This was not how this was supposed to go.

The training that he had received should have prepared him better if he were to lose contact with his ship, but the flashing red lights and constant blinking with the grating sound that seemed to fill the cabin of the ship was making it harder to focus on anything other than the anxiety that was filling his stomach.

He was trying everything he knew. Resetting the system, trying to shut it off, attempting to override the automatic shutdown.

“Ace, override emergency operation Lock Down and return to manual piloting.”

The fact that this mission had been nothing more than an exploration of some of the least charted worlds of the galaxy, he had insisted that he be given a chance to prove himself worthy.

While there were a few other pilots who may have been a bit more acquitted to dealing with this situation, he had been allowed the chance.

Even as Virgil frantically tried to figure this mess out, the constant blinking of red lights in front of him still didn’t cease.

When the ship had gone into lock down, it was something that was supposedly made to keep the pilot within the ship safe if they were unconscious. Unfortunately, he was wide awake and unable to stop what was happening in front of him. The fact that he was useless to stop the hurtling spaceship from smashing into the ground was horrifying.

“Unable to override operation Lock Down.”

“Goddammit,” he swore under his breath, reaching up, he pulled at one of the lever above his head, before flicking the switch beside it and causing one of the only other lights to flicker on to a dying blue hue. The sounds of the locks shutting further gave him a little comfort.

There was nothing he could do if the ship couldn’t even turn it off.

“Ace, attempt to override emergency operation Lock down again and return to manual pilot.”

The beeping almost got louder for a moment and he winced in response to the squealing noises. The more high pitched it got, the more ear grating it became.

“Still unable to override operation Lock Down.”

“Attempt to reconnect contact with Home Base.”

The moment he had lost the connection with Home Base was the exact moment he had realized just how screwed he was. Without it, how would they know where his ship ended up? Would it even be possible to contact them again after he landed?

“Unable to reconnect contact with Home Base.”

Fantastic, that was exactly what he needed to hear right now. The anxiety was threatening to overwhelm him at this point, but if he allowed it to get the better of him, he would have no chance whatsoever.

As Virgil’s eyes focused on the planet in front of him that just seemed to be growing larger and larger by the second, he knew he needed more info on it. If he touched down and knew nothing, it would only get him in trouble faster. Attempting to fit in would be a bit more difficult without any knowledge.

Taking in a deep breath, he slid his hand across the touch pad, only watching as more warnings popped up in front of him. “Give me information on the planet Terra.”

The fact that he had been so sure of himself, only for his ship to shut down right in front of him while being completely helpless to stop it, proved that he probably shouldn’t have been so adamant about doing this.

At least not by himself.

Proving himself meant nothing if he was dead.

“Terra, inhabited by Terran. It resides in the Milky Way. It only consists of one moon and is the third closest planet to the sun, thus the year on Terra is—”

“Important stuff, Ace,” he called up, the panic growing heavier in his chest, making it harder to breathe, “more information on the Terran.”

“Terrans, more commonly known as ‘human beings,’ are a violent race of bipedal mammals that have a long and detailed history of starting wars between themselves over provisions such as oil, water and large expansions of land. There appears to have been a time of peace hundreds of years ago, before Terrans realized the importance of certain provisions. Humans are known for their violent and greedy nature and are often avoided by others.”

He could only sit and watch as the planet of green and blue got bigger and bigger. Hurtling towards the ground at unimaginable speeds was absolutely horrifying.

Then there was the fact that A.C.E. was saying how Terrans were more prone to jump into negative action if they found something they didn’t understand.

“It is rumoured that the humans—“Americans” as Terrans call them—of the United States of America believe there is a secret military base called Area 51. A place where countless other planets have lost explorers to. There are some notable planets in your galaxy that have lost explorers to this base.”

“Great, just what I needed,” Virgil hissed, tugging the seat belt tighter and reaching forwards to hold onto the wheel in front of him even if he wouldn’t be able to change course. The idea that there were people down on this planet that captured other beings set a hard rock in his chest. “Is there any way at all to slow the descent?”

“Negative.”

Well, guess he would just have to brace for impact as best as he could.

“Ace, attempt to reroute all power back to the main bridge and return control to manual pilot.” It was all a loss at this point, but he needed to try at least once more.

The ship went silent for a minute, the flashing stopped and for one brief moment of relief, Virgil thought that he would get control back. Then the sirens picked up again and the yoke remained stagnant. He could tug, he could turn with everything he had in him, and the thing still wouldn’t move an inch.

“Unable to reroute power supply to main bridge,” Ace’s computerized voice spoke from somewhere above him.

While crash landing was inevitable at this point, there was nothing really settling about that. There was so much that could go wrong when one hit the ground too hard. Whiplash, sprains, broken bones and, in the worst case scenario, death.

Sinking a bit further into his seat, the young man grasped the armrests. His knuckles were white from the force. The ground was approaching far too fast and he didn’t have it in him to watch.

So, he squeezed his eyes shut as tight as possible and waited for the worst of it.

—

The first thing he registered when he began to regain consciousness was the stinging in his left arm. Sharp, jabbing pain that seemed to allude to something greater than just a hurt wrist.

But there was pain almost everywhere. Every time he tried to move, there was something hot and burning. His muscles ached and could feel thin cuts along his good arm. The crash landing must have taken more of a toll on him than he had originally planned for. At least his ‘worst case scenario’ hadn’t played out. He was still alive for everything that counted for.

The next thing he registered, even when he still laid half unconscious, was that whatever he was on was much softer than solid ground or even the leather covering of the seat in his ship. Whatever he was on was a lot warmer as well. While the ship had its heating system, this felt like it was more body heat than anything else.

Whatever was happening couldn’t exactly be good.

When he tried to move his injured arm—ignoring the awful, horrible pain that shot up through the rest of his arm—that’s what jolted him awake instantly. He couldn’t move it. Not just because of the pain, he could grit his teeth through the pain, but because of something that prohibited its movement in the first place.

He sat up, suddenly hyper-aware of the weight slightly pressing against the back of his neck and his right shoulder.

Wide, startled brown eyes moved directly to his left arm and he saw the pristine white bandage wrapped around it, before tied back into a sling that was tucked around his neck. The sling itself was surprisingly well made and did its job with keeping his arm from moving, but that led Virgil to another question.

Who did it?

Which led to yet another question; where, in the name of God, was he?

His attention shifted, after realizing that he couldn’t just spend his time staring at his broken, but miraculously wrapped wrist. Not if he wanted answers. Though, when he did take the time to look around the room, he was only left with more questions.

And a crippling stab of anxiety in his stomach.

He was in a bedroom. It looked like any other normal bedroom, just on a scale a hell of a lot bigger. There was a bed, a dresser, closet, bedside table, a window, lamps, wall decors, anything that you would expect in a bedroom. Except everything was probably twenty times his own height and the panic began to set in hard.

The feeling of tightness in his chest was the first sign of the oncoming attack, then there was the heavy breathing that followed closely afterwards.

Tearing his eyes away from the looming sight in front of him, Virgil noticed a small cup of water to his right but if he wasn’t mistaken, the water was contained inside a bottle cap. Something that he had tossed mindlessly into the trash before. Seeing it nearly the size of his hand was unnerving and frankly terrifying.

While a part of him wanted to reach over and quench his thirst, another part of him—the more reasonable part of him—knew that the drink could very easily be poisoned. This entire thing could all be some sort of Godawful trick and the Terran that was currently keeping him captive would eventually do away with him. He was a hostage and there was no way to change that, not if the scale of the room said anything about the scale of the human being.

It took a moment, but something caught his attention, set off to the side as if it were an afterthought. It was his ship. Sitting right there out in the open, so close but so far away from him. It was like a sick tease.

However, the more he looked at it, he saw the damage that had been done when it had plowed into the earth’s surface. Glass was shattered, it was dented in more places than one and wires stuck out along it’s edges. Seeing it in such poor shape hurt him, even if the thing wasn’t sentient.

Everyone had an attachment to the ship they were assigned to pilot and he had been in his for what seemed like weeks. Getting to learn its controls and figure his way out around the large place.

Ace, even as an A.I, had been some of the only company he had gotten during his mission. However, because of the advanced technology he had been able to make contact with either Logan or Roman at least once every two days. Never for very long, but hearing the voices of his two closest friends was always reassuring.

Maybe if he could get back to his ship, Ace would be able to help him now. They were on solid ground, so perhaps he’d be able to rework some of the wires without the panic of crashing unexpectedly.

Almost as if fate thought that this was some cruel joke, he could hear movement coming from the other side of the closed door.

The shadows of someone moving on the other side caught his attention and his stomach sank. Panic quickly managed to wrap its clammy hands around his throat and squeezed, easily directing his focus from breathing, to ‘oh my god, what do I do now.’

He was hurt, which took away his chances of fighting. He was tiny, which took away his chances of actually finding a way to escape. He was nearly in the midst of a panic attack, which took away his rational thinking and replaced it with the common fight or flight response.

Adrenaline pumped through his veins as the door handle jiggled, only to open a lot slower than he thought it would have. Struggling to right himself, Virgil managed to halfheartedly move slightly backwards. Whatever he was currently laying on was much too soft to actually try and make some sort of getaway.

The door eventually did crack open and Virgil shrunk further back into the soft comforters of the bed, as if that would hide him from plain sight.

Dread pooled into his stomach as soon as his eyes made contact with the Terran’s. However, where Virgil was expecting to see blood red eyes (or something else relatively terrifying) he saw dark hazels—that would have rivaled Roman’s—hidden behind thick black glasses. And where he was expecting to see fangs and canines that were designed to tear and maim, he saw blunt teeth bared in an expression of relief and excitement.

A.C.E hadn’t given him any information on human body language, but he could only pray that a smile meant the same thing it did on his own home planet.

“Oh good!” The human said suddenly, stepping further into the room, shutting the door quietly behind him. “You’re awake. I‌ was a little worried there for a bit! You weren’t moving and it was a little hard to tell if you were breathing.”

Virgil had half a mind to demand release, but the other more sensible part of him realized that he was certainly in no place to be demanding anything. The human had been kind enough to leave water for him, but that didn’t mean he had the right to push that kindness just in case he pushed too far.

Anxiety tried to push forward, trying to make Virgil relent and stay compliant. And while that might save his hide, it wasn’t what he had been trained to do. At least, nothing had really trained him for interacting with giants, but at least humans—or this human in particular—seemed willing enough to make causal conversation.

So, he swallowed back his nerves and cleared his throat to the best of his ability, trying to still the trembling in his good hand. He dug that one into the thick covers to stop it. “What–” he took a breath, hating the way his voice shook, “what are you going to do to me?”

It was a morbid curiosity as well, Virgil reasoned. He wasn’t sure if it would be better to know his fate or to allow the human to do what he wanted and have it over with.

The human’s expression seemed to crumple. Virgil felt his stomach drop at the disheartened look that crossed his features.

“I’m not going to do anything to you,” the human said, his voice was softer this time. “I‌ really just wanted to make sure you were okay. The way your ship looks and the way your arm looked…”

Virgil’s eyes darted down to his wrist, seeing the careful bandaging and the sling. He felt slightly ill at the idea of how close the human had to get to him to do such impressive work, but it was still shocking. “You.. you did this?”

“The sling and the cast,” the human said, that soft smile returning once more. It looked proud and warm. “I‌ don’t know how well I‌ really did with it since you’re so small, but I‌ hoped it helps enough to let your arm heal correctly.”

You and me both.

Virgil took another breath, letting it out steadily and forcing the nerves back for now. He could let it take over when he was alone. Falling prone in the midst of a dangerous creature was not a good option.

“My name’s Patton,” the human said suddenly, causing Virgil’s eyes to shoot back up and meet his own. “I‌ just thought it’d make this a little easier, you know? A‌ bit more personal too.” The human—Patton—paused, and Virgil felt nervousness fluttering in his stomach again. “Do you have a name?”

Of course he had a name. Obviously he had a name. However, before he had the mind to speak it, he held his tongue. Was telling a human his name really the best way to go about this encounter? What if names had power on this planet, and the minute Virgil gave his away he was immediately in more danger.

Though, Virgil also had to take stock of everything that had happened—well, everything that hadn’t happened already.

Patton had done nothing but stand by the bedroom door, talking softly at him. That wasn’t exactly the recipe for a monster. However, there was also something else niggling at him saying that this could all be some elaborate scheme to get Virgil to trust him and than that’s when it happens.

Though, another part of him said, he seems pretty genuine. If he really did mean you harm, he didn’t have to fix your wrist. Or let you live, for that matter.

Virgil licked his lips, trying to wet them only to come up with a dry mouth. Right, he was thirsty. His eyes flickered over to the bottle cap of water to his side that miraculously hadn’t spilled in his panicked movements to create distance between himself and the human.

He then side-eyed Patton again. “Is the water poisoned?”

Patton let out a soft, surprised noise at that. As if that wasn’t the question he had been expecting in the least. If Virgil had any suspicion that it was poisoned, going off of that reaction it very obviously wasn’t. “No!” The human quickly said, wanting to get that truth out there vehemently. “Of course not. I‌ promise, I‌ really don’t want to do anything to you!”

Virgil gave a satisfied enough nod at that, tugging the cap of water toward himself—ignoring how weird it was that it was a bottle cap of all things—and tilted it just enough to let himself bend down and take a few greedy drinks of it. It was cool and fresh and amazing. The task of drinking was a bit difficult one handed, but certainly not impossible.

When he had drained about half of it, and felt a little better than before, he used his sleeve to wipe at the water on his mouth. After another moment of hesitation, watching Patton’s wide sparkling gaze, he sighed.

“…my name’s Virgil,” he said, turning his head away immediately, as if that would stop the heat from flooding up the back of his neck and into his cheeks.

And because of that reaction, he missed the way Patton’s eyes lit up further.

Virgil guessed that maybe he’d landed with an…alright human.

For now.

Besides, there was no harm in Patton knowing his name. At least, no harm yet.

[stressedoutteenager]

with all the new info we got about the netflix adaption of the grishaverse, I felt more motivated to write something and recently wrote something about Kaz realizing - because Inej explains to him - that he should show more appreciation towards his friends, particularly Jesper

If you want to read on AO3: here’s the link 

Say Thank You

“Would it kill you to say thank you for once, to let him know he’s appreciated?”, Inej says as soon as the door to Kaz’s office falls shut.

She hears Kaz wince quietly while she rummages through his desk drawers for anything that would help her clean his wounds. She’s been back from her latest voyage for almost a week. It had been a successful one and coming back to Ketterdam, she felt proud and accomplished.

Kaz could tell as soon as he saw her. She was glowing.

Several days passed peacefully, while she got to reconnect with her friends. They did all send letters but as correspondence is not regular when one is on the seas and at different coasts each day, catching up in person is much more fun and rewarding. Several peaceful days had passed, indeed, until somebody tried to break into Wylan and Jesper’s home.  It is common knowledge that their home is constantly under security. And most people know not to mess with Dirty Hands, the Barrel Boss, and his associates. Some might even say his friends. Yet, somebody was stupid enough to do so. Maybe, stupid. Maybe, reckless. Maybe, brave.

Luckly, the intruders seemed to be only there to gather intel. They got scared off by Kaz and Inej arriving at their friends’ house. Instantly, the couple inside, that had not noticed anything going on outside, was interrogated about possible enemies. It could have been someone trying to break in to steal from their big fortune, but that thought was dismissed quickly. Doing that would be stupid and nothing else. However, this attempted break-in seemed to be only the start of it. Threats kept coming; break-ins at the Crow Club, vandalism at the Slat, cheating and brawls while gambling.

Kaz didn’t want his friends to be involved again, not after they left the Dregs behind - for the most part. Wylan is still in contact with Kaz for business and Jesper supports Kaz’s businesses in various ways when he can. But, they don’t interfere with the Dregs’ dirty business. Inej on the other hand… whenever she’s back in Ketterdam, she’ll share anything she finds valuable with Kaz. She would have never dreamed that she’d miss the dirty, crooked rooftops of Ketterdam and yet... she can never resist to jump from roof to roof like she’s flying.  Those familiar, light steps of Inej’s always itched to be up above everyone else where she could blend into the shadows and listen. And listen she did. - An unknown but surprisingly quick and efficient working gang was targeting the Crows.

Kaz made a plan and his former crew members inserted themselves in it. Despite Kaz’s refusal at first, they did not relent.

But, things suddenly went south. Kaz was struck by a flying knife, none of his crew saw coming. Not even Inej, which she still feels horrible about. And then, chaos broke loose. It all happened so very fast, they were ambushed. Still, after all these years Kaz, Wylan, Jesper, and Inej can read each other’s expressions and can communicate wordlessly and accomplished to come out of the unplanned, unexpected brawl victorious.

Now, as Inej turns around, Kaz has rid himself of his jacket. His shirt is ripped, quite a big patch is red. Kaz only looks at Inej while crossing the room until he’s stood right next to her. Leaning on his desk, he takes the cotton ball from Inej’s hand.

“He didn’t have to join me.”, Kaz simply says.

Inej’s eyes wander over Kaz’s face, down his body to his torso. The red patch is still getting bigger. And Kaz is not doing anything about it. Inej steps closer, meets Kaz’s gaze and waits. A couple moments all he does is stare right back. His jaw set, eyes trained on the girl in front of him that didn’t think twice before exchanging her captain’s hat for her scaling shoes when she noticed it might be useful. Useful to Kaz.

Finally, he nods and she starts unbuttoning his shirt slowly. She takes care to not touch his skin, pulling the shirt away from him, towards herself, while taking one button at a time. When his shirt is finally completely open and pushed off his shoulders, the deep stab wound on his abdomen is on full display.

“Apply pressure.”, Inej instructs him as she hands him a towel and takes the cotton ball back. He doesn’t make a sound but Inej can feel his quick breath on her cheek. He's hurting. She does not want to make him more uncomfortable than he already is and pays attention to not touch him with her fingers. The cotton ball is now pinched between her fingers. “Neither of us had to. We wanted to. And if it weren’t for Jesper there, you’d be in much more pain than you are now.”, she lifts her head to look at Kaz and only when he meets her eyes, she adds, “Or dead.”

There’s no movement in his face. His eyes stay on Inej, when he says:“I can handle myself.”

“Sure. You’re the Bastard of the Barrel .”, Inej says through her teeth. She tells him to lift the towel and cleans as much of the blood as she can before taking a step back to get the bandages. She had seen them in the drawer at his desk. She goes back to stand in front of Kaz and cuts up the bandage into the right sizes.

“I know you’re trying. I can see it.”, she says, not meeting his gaze. They both know what she means. It is not a secret that Kaz goes to meet Jesper and Wylan regularly. Most people think it’s on business and yes, sometimes it is, but mainly, it is a pretense. Still having her eyes only on the bandages, she continues: “But sometimes it’s not enough. If Jesper weren’t there today, if he hadn’t used his power, you’d be injured so much worse.”

Positioning a bandage on his wound that is still bleeding, she continues to speak while applying more pressure than is needed: “And forget saying thank you, you barely glanced in his direction afterwards and gave Wylan the instructions on how to keep their home safe.”

“I..”, Kaz starts to talk but stops as soon as Inej leans closer to wrap a thin piece of towel to keep the bandage in place. She hovers so closely that he can smell the flowery smell in her hair, even through the dust and dirt of the brawl not even hours ago.

Inej mutters: “You can’t just always assume everyone around you knows what you think.”

She’s done with the big wound and steps back. To give him a break. And to be able to see his reactions to what she’s saying. Kaz smirks lightly when saying: “They are not supposed to.”, but that doesn’t impress Inej one bit.

“But your friend should. Your friend should know that you’re grateful for his help. That you appreciate them. Especially when they are this close to you and when they see you as family.”, Inej says, arms crossed over her chest but her tone of voice softer than before.

The adrenaline is only now wearing off and the fear that Kaz might be hurt badly is growing calmer.

Inej can see how much Jesper means to Kaz. And deep down, Jesper knows that, too. But he should not have to settle for only that.

Kaz does not say anything, does not show anything in his eyes. Inej shakes her head and turns around to put away everything she did not use and she can hear Kaz limping towards the trunk near the door, where he keeps spare clothes. While worrying about his stab wound, neither had thought about his leg. She hears Kaz wince before she even turns around and can see him struggling to put his shirt on. Inej closes the distance in quick, quiet steps and helps him wordlessly. She then continues to button it up.

“Thank you.”, Kaz says and Inej can feel his eyes on her. She doesn’t look up until she has buttoned up every button. That she can hide her small smile that way helps too. She is incredibly happy that he opens up more to her now than he ever did. Emotionally and physically, verbally or with his looks. She’s proud of his progress. And still, her point from before stands.

“You’re welcome.”, she says, finally looking at him and finds him looking at her with a small smile. She tries to school her features but it is too late. He saw the effect of that small smile. No matter how much older she is now and how many threats and problems she has faced by now with a straight face, Kaz still has the annoyingly exciting influence on her as if she’s still 16.

Kaz takes a deep breath without moving an inch away from Inej and says: “I have some immediate business to take care of. But in the morning I’ll go check up on Wylan and Jepser.”

“Good.”, Inej answers and allows herself to finally smile at him. His eyes focus on her lips drawn upwards; his hand itches to drag her closer. “I’ll accompany you.”

Kaz’s first instinct is to refuse. Out of habit. Even though he would like her to stay at the Slat with him. Even though they both know he might need a second pair of eyes when walking through Ketterdam the next morning. He bites his tongue and nods.

He takes out the key to his room from his pocket and hands it to her: “You’ll be least disturbed there. I’m going to send some of my people to take care of the remainder of today’s business.”

-

The next morning, a message boy arrives at the Slat, asking for a message to be given to Mr. Brekker, who had already left to go check up on the person who sent the message, inviting him to Breakfast.

Jesper is the one to open the door and is surprised at the speed at which his friends arrived but doesn’t comment on it. He lets them in and locks the door behind them.  Inej greets her friend and continues towards the kitchen where an off-key singing Wylan can be heard. Jesper makes a move to join her but Kaz calls him back: “Jesper, a moment please.” Inej hears Kaz and knows she shouldn’t be as proud as she is. This should be a given. Still.

“Everything okay?”, Jesper asks, looking Kaz up and down.

Kaz sets his cane aside and nods. “Yes.”, and then does not know how to continue. Inej had said he should let his friends who see him as family know that he appreciates him. But that’s the problem. Jesper is like a brother to Kaz. It makes it harder to express his thoughts, not easier.

“Okay..”, Jesper says, a little suspicious.

“Just…”, Kaz continues and straightens his back and looks at Jesper properly. “Thank you… for your help yesterday.”

Jesper needs a moment to process what Kaz said, but then opts to play it off. He shrugs and waves it off: “Sure, no problem. It’s nothing.”

Kaz is tempted to let it go now. He said thank you. But he knows that once again Inej is right. “No, it’s not nothing. Without you there yesterday, I might have scarcely come out of the attack.”

He is looking Jesper in the eyes but is not showing anything more than his usual stoic gaze. And yet, Jesper knows Kaz means it. To that, he smiles and instantly wants to hug Kaz but knows better. Instead he nods, smiling, and tries not to beam.

They turn to go join the others in the kitchen, but Jesper’s step falters when Kaz adds: “But don’t ever put yourself in danger for me again.”

Kaz does not stop, he passes his friend and thinks, he does not want another brother dying before him.

[handmadecp]

Bucket Bag Build Along Pics.

The Bucket Bag. Original idea and pattern from Dieselpunkro.

Pic 1 : At last, I have some me time to put the build along pics up for the Bucket bag. Firstly, Sorry for the long wait for any one that has been wondering where I’ve been but with life as it is for everyone these days  lets just say ‘LIFE’ once again got in the way. So, moving on. Credit for the Original design and the Pattern goes to ‘Tony See’ of Dieselpunkro in Spain, find them on Y/Tube. The construction and any alterations from the original design is all me. Let’s start. Here I have bought the pattern from Dieselpunkro, downloaded it and printed.

Pic 2 : I cut out each pattern and I have punched the some of the holes, Some times I do it before taping to the leather and other times I find it’s easier to tape it down and ‘then’ do the smaller ones as sometimes the smaller ones are easier to do with the patterns taped down to the leather. I’m sure you’ll find your own way, as long as you make sure you’ve punched ‘all’ holes you’ll be ok. Also’ a very important point, look on the patterns for any holes marked as ‘stitching’ holes or ‘start here’ holes and keep marking them as you go along and eventually transfer them to the leather as these are the holes where you will begin the stitching and if you don’t mark then it’s a royal pain trying to figure it out...believe me...I’ve done it a few times. So check and double check.

Pic 3 : Patterns transferred to leather , here’s one of the sections that was ready, , shaped and all holes punched, needing a liner, here I’m about to cut some material for that. This is the ‘wrong’ side of the liner material. You can see the other side further on.

Pic 4 : I wasn’t aware of it at this point but i had cut a piece wrong, this turned out to be the bottom section of the bag and somehow I’ve managed to take my eye off the ball ( due to tiredness ) and I’ve punched holes around the edge of the ‘bottom’ hence why I thought it was the top, anyway...there’s another tip, this stuff is expensive, so don’t do it when you are tired, lesson learned and as luck would have it, this will work for another project I have lined up for 2021. Anyway, you get ‘warts and all’ on here as promised. you may notice the ‘change’ as we go along and now you will know why.

Pic 5 : I use anything to hand when glueing stuff together to press them down

Pic 6 : This is the pattern transfer tor the Veg Tan Leather bottom piece, this was one of those times when I punched the holes through the pattern and the leather in one go.

Pic 7 : sometimes you will find that the punched holes are a tad too small but it’s an easy fix, just a quick once round pass using a slighty..very slightly, bigger punch, Note at the bottom an ‘x,’ this is me keeping track of the ‘Start stitch here’ hole as mentioned earlier. the white gloves, as those long time followers will already know,... but just for those who may be new to my blog,..they are to prevent my nails dragging and marking the leather.

Pic 8 : On the inside I wanted to put a liner of the ‘softer’ material that will be used for the upper section of the bag, but so that you could see the lovely bright color of the ‘wrong’ side of it as you will see. first I had to rough up the whole area as shown here, I used an actual ‘rougher’ tool seen in the picture but you can use a knife edge or anything that will get the job done, this helps the glue to bond the two sections together better.

Pic 9 : Ok, so, those keen eyed amongst you will probably be wondering, why , if he has already glued a liner onto the base, is he now gluing another piece. Well I messed up twice on the day I was tired, I did eventually stop to avoid making more, this was me the next day putting the mistakes right. I realised I hadn’t used the soft leather ‘upside-down’ for the inside color / effect. It will all come clear at the end.

Pic 10 : When I first started this blog showing my little project builds I promised to show any and all mistakes, and I do, in the hope of saving you yourself some time, money and effort if you decide to have a go yourself. But now..I’m Back on track, new pieces cut for lower section and the correct liner is on and waiting to be trimmed.

Pic 11 : Next after the larger sections comes the straps and assorted leather sections, the process is the same just on a smaller scale, no big deal, but takes a lot of patience as there are lots of holes to punch, hundreds in fact. If you have no patience, this is not the hobby for you.

Pic 12 : Straps and assorted pieces done. Time to start the build.

Pic 13 : Here I’ve taken the thin ‘skirt’ section and using a rolling stitch with a waxed thread I stitched all around one way as seen here fixing it to the veg tan base and then went all the way back to fill the gaps as shown in Pic 14.

Pic 14 : Skirting stitched on ready to go the other way to comlete the stitching.

Pic 15 : Stitching the side pieces together using a cross over stitch to give this effect on the outside. I’ve used a waxed thread in Purple.

Pic 16 : Once both sides are done it made a nice shape and was quite sturdy already.

Pic 17 : Here you can see the rivets in position for the next step and you can now see the actual ‘right’ side of the liner.

Pic 18 : Here you see the pattern placed over the project to show how it’s coming together so precisely. The patterns from Dieselpunkro are not only great value for your money but they are very precise.

Pic 19 : You can see the inside showing the rivets. once the strap sections are fitted you won’t see the outside of the rivets and once done they will add to the strength of the whole structure.

Pic 20 : All the strapping has been treated with Tan Kote straight onto the straps, left to dry and then buffed up to a shine.( though in other circumstances I would wipe it off quickly, I am aiming to darken the color as will show later. )

Pic 21 : The strapping sections all put together and placed over the rivets.

Pic 22: Then using the purple thread again and a ‘Saddle’ stitch this time I have stitched the whole piece over the rivets following the pattern holes as always.

Pic 23 : Straps, Done. and used a few buckles lying around to ‘test’ fit, they are ‘not’ fitted yet as I want antique brass not shiny brass.

Pic 24 : Next I fit the bottom section as shown, thread the two needles used for a saddle stitch with the purple waxed thread and begin to stitch it to the main body of the bag.

Pic 25 : after the bottom is stitched on you can now see what I was saying about the nice color on the ‘wrong’ side of the soft leather I glued on as a liner.

Pic 26 : Showing the bottom section  finished and looking very solid as the main body becomes even more solid now.

Pic 27 : These two side secions are part of the handle / strap section. I punched a small hole in each using the pattern marks and added a Chicago screw on each as seen here. and I have added a small ‘Stay’ strap around each using a stitch or two on the back to hold them together.

Pic 28 : This pic and pic 29 show me fitting the eyelets. I used some gunsmoke blue/grey colored ones.

Pic 29 : The punch tool used to fit them.

Pic 30 : I fitted the antique brass buckles and used antique brass rivets to hold the straps permanently in place. I also fitted antique brass ‘Stays’ as seen in this pic. Note how the strap coloring is the same as the base, that was achieved by  A) Using leather from the same roll and B) using the Tan Kote for the same amount of time on everything before buffing..which time wise in this case was just ..put it on and wait for it to dry completely, then buff it. It seems to have done the trick as you’ll soon see.

Pic 31 : the base is now done, time to add the upper section to it.

Pic 32 : First I attached the side pieces as shown here, I stitched them to the base using a saddle stitch and the usual Purple waxed thread a seen here, I did both sides the same way.

Pic 33 : You can see here the struggle to get to the stitch holes which could barely be seen on the inside due to the material used, but again this comes down to a lot of patience. It’s worth it at the end.

Pic 34 : You can see here that you have to start at the bottom of the strap section ( I know most of you have figured it out, but for anyone wondering..I mean the ‘pointy bit’ ). I came up with the stitch and right to the top, then I doubled that stitch back down till it met the ‘upper’ material being stitched on. Here if you look carefully I made a few passes back and forwards to give extra strength at these points, I then started along the edge joing the soft ‘upper’ section to the now solid ‘Base’ section as shown.

Pic 35 : Here you can see the upper is now stitched to the base. As I reached the far side I again had to stitch the ‘pointy’ bit, I joined onto it, went to the top as before and doubled it back down then carried it to the bottom around the point and back up the other side doing exactly the same again until I had joined back onto the upper and base sections and then carried on along the edge on the opposite side finishing off with a few back stitched, snipped it and used a lighter to melt the ends to secure it.

Pic 36 : Next I changed the main shoulder strap for my own design, I cut a normal strap a half inch wide, wet it ( ’Cased’ it ) and stamped a nice flower design on then stamped a center for each one. as seen here. I edged it all around and then used Tan Kote in the same way as before and allowed to dry rather than removing it,  then buffed it to a shine, it came out the same color as the rest. Once it was complete I punched and slit the holes as shown on the patter , threaded the strap into place and connected it using the chicago screws pushed through the punched/slit holes.

Pic 37 : I used leather off the same roll to cut a thin ‘tie’ piece for the ‘Pull-Tie’. I treated it the same way with the Tan Kote and achieved the same color again bringing together the whole look.

Pic 38 : A view of the inside of the Bucket bag. You can see now that re-doing the bottom was worth it as it now matches the top inside section. You can see the Pull tie threaded through the eyelets. One thing I almost forgot, see the top edge, I rolled it over and saddle stitched it all around to give a much tougher top edge.

Pic 39 : The finished bag, the only other things I did were to make the small leather piece that holds the pull tie pieces together as seen here, no big deal.

Pic 40 : And I cut the leather pull through into two pieces once threaded and once passed through the small leather ‘stay’ piece I knotted the ends and as you can see here..You now pull each side closed seperately, making for an easier closure.

Pic 41 : done.

And Voila, One Christmas Present Finished. That’s it guys, this was the last Project I did in 2020. I’m looking forward to starting new projects soon but I have a few things around the house to sort out first. I will probably get back to it around about mid February. Thank you to all those of you who have waited a long time to see this and didn’t unfollow me, I appreciate it, sometimes life just gets in the way as I’m sure you all know. I hope you will go check out Dieselpunkro you might be inspired if I haven’t quite inspired you enough hahaha. See you all again soon with another project and good luck with your own. Until then, stay safe and as always, ‘Stay crafty’.

[magic-and-moonlit-wings]

Chapter 51: Changeling Rite Of Passage

Becoming the Mask

Bold italics are trollish.

+=+

"Everybody set?" asked Jim, adjusting his backpack. "First aid kits, water, emergency rations?"

Mary patted her bag. "Plus a solar-powered phone charger and fully-charged credit card, in case we get stuck in Florida and have to get home the human way."

"You're sure bringing our weapons is okay?" Darci asked Glug, who had agreed to join them. "I mean, showing up with swords and spears doesn't exactly say 'peaceful diplomatic party'."

"Everyone needs a good spear," said Glug lightly. "Never know when you find something to hunt. Or something hunts you."

"This way," said Blinky, turning. He was guiding them through the lower levels of Trollmarket.

It was a mostly residential area which the humans hadn't explored yet. The light here was softer and multi-coloured, coming from various crystals besides the Heartstone. There were still occasional market stalls. They gave Darci the impression of neighbourhood corner stores, rather than the more downtown-ish feeling of the main market area.

Blinky led the way down a sloping path, through a doorway, and paused to gesture dramatically.

"Behold, young ones. The Gyre."

It rose from the floor, rotating into what Darci assumed was the 'ready' position.

"Oooooh."

"That's the coolest troll-y trolley I've ever seen," said Toby.

It looked like a gyroscope, between two side-mounts instead of a central base, and with a boat-like structure in the centre. Or one of those models of an atom, with the electron orbit paths mapped out. Or those depictions of angels as multilayered interlocking wheels.

They climbed up the thin staircases on either side of the basket while Blinky continued to deliver exposition.

"No longer do trolls have to travel on hoof between our markets. Now, thanks to a series of tunnels and some creatively engineered machinery, we can take a journey that would last weeks in only moments!"

AAARRRGGHH spun the outer wheel of the vehicle to kickstart it, and got out of the way rather than climbing into the basket with the rest of them. The stairs folded back.

"You're not coming?" Toby asked.

AAARRRGGHH shook his head, his ears set low. "Hate Gyre."

"What so bad about the GYYYYYYYRRRRRREEE–?!"

Inertia pushed the passengers to the back bench. How Blinky was able to stay standing at the controls was a mystery. The six-eyed troll cackled, his four hands dancing over the control panel, pushing buttons and turning knobs and pulling levers with perfect timing to adjust their course down a series of forking tunnels.

It was the scariest and most exhilarating ride ever.

They slammed to a stop and the passengers fell forward, still screaming.

"We've made excellent time!" said Blinky brightly. "You see, was that so bad?"

"Yes," said Jim, rolling off the pile of twitching bodies. "Yes, it was."

"I've got some saltines in my purse," said Claire.

"I think I need, like, a gallon of ginger ale," said Mary.

"For once I don't think I can eat anything," said Toby.

"That was awesome!" said Darci. "It was like, the world's best roller coaster! Is that as fast as it can go?"

"Nooo, don't tell us," moaned Claire. "I don't wanna know."

The humans untangled themselves shakily. Glug had apparently kept her balance, clinging to the basket's side. Darci made a mental note to do that next time.

The Gyre station did not open to another Trollmarket. They climbed up a steep tunnel, and emerged into a swamp.

It was dark. They'd timed their trip to arrive shortly after sunset in the Everglades. The world seemed to be made of green shadows and distant stars. Jim's armour glowed a little, but not enough to work as a flashlight.

"We should probably hold hands to make sure we don't get separated," said Jim softly. "Move slow. Try to test the ground before you put your weight on it."

The humans and Changeling latched onto each other – Darci took the end of the line, since her crossbow couldn't be hung from her hip like a sword or hammer – and followed the tall, rectangular shadow of Blinky deeper into the swamp. Glug blended in too well to guide them.

Darci's eyes gradually adjusted enough to see Glug when the troll got close. She could see how Toby had his hand on Claire's elbow instead of holding her hand, so Claire could use her spear as a walking stick. Darci started walking a bit more confidently. So did everyone else.

She felt a sudden jerk on her arm as Mary, between Darci and Claire in the lineup, stumbled.

"Whoa!"

"Wha-?"

"Ow!"

"Everyone okay?" Jim asked once they all stopped yelping. Nobody had actually fallen.

"I'm okay."

"Fine."

"Just caught my foot on some vines, I think."

"I'm alright."

"Almost there," Glug reassured them.

And then they were surrounded, by trolls nearly identical to Glug, pointing spears at them.

"Oh," said Glug delightedly. "We're here!"

"Why are you leading outsiders to our home?" one of them demanded.

"I vouch for them," Glug promised. "They've come to ask a favour only the Quagawump Trolls can help them with."

"You're practically an outsider yourself by now." Another one snorted and jabbed her spear closer to Glug. "Why should your word mean anything?"

With suspiciously convenient timing, the clouds moved away from the moon. Several of the Quagawumps gasped and pointed at Toby.

Okay, maybe there was some truth to that weather-magic thing?

"Uh … Greeting!" Toby waved uncertainly at them. "I am Tobias of Arcadia. I journey with the Trollhunter to ask you … to help, to avenge the Shattered King."

Most of the Quagawumps quickly huddled together, whispering among themselves. The two who had been furthest to the edges of the group kept their spears at the ready and their eyes on the outsiders.

"Follow us," the one who was probably in charge of this scouting party said. "You will present your request to everyone."

The path through the swamp was twisty, but it stayed on relatively solid ground.

Darci started to see green crystals growing from the trees, like in Glug's poem. Jim gasped sharply when they saw the first one. When the crystals were thick enough to appear in almost every tree, he wandered from the group and touched one. Their local guides started chanting, distracting her. When Darci looked at Jim again, he was standing at Toby's side with his hands behind his back like a bodyguard.

+=+

Jim broke off a fragment of the green Heartstone. Just like the first time he'd touched the one back in Trollmarket, it came off easily in his hand.

He vanished and reformed the scale mail of his armour over his palm. His stolen prize was safely hidden. With his other hand he coaxed it around to rest on the back of his hand, caught under the plate of his gauntlet, rather than on his palm where it might affect his grip on a weapon.

He rejoined his friends, lingering protectively around Toby.

The swamp Heartstone was coloured similarly to the green crystals in the Darklands, but it felt different. Warmer. Had this been how the supposed 'Darklands Heartstone' had felt back when Gunmar first built his throne into it?

They went through a freestanding brick archway with curtain of hanging vines, entering the Quagawumps' – meeting hall? Town square? Plaza?

There was Heartstone everywhere, like Vendel's workshop, and dozens of trolls milling about on their nightly business. Jim didn't see anything that looked like a house or tent, but there was a table out in the open, and some cooking fires.

A large statue of King Quag watched over it all.

(At least, Jim didn't think it was his rebuilt body, since it was so much bigger than the other Quagawumps.)

"AI-YI-YI-YI-YI-YI-YAAA!" cried the Quagawump carrying the Parlok spear.

"AI-YI-YI-YI-YI-YI-YAAA!" cried the rest in response, turning their attention to the newcomers.

"Mm, humans," Jim heard one say quietly to another. "A taste not common." He readied himself to summon his sword.

They were banking on Toby's resemblance to King Quag to coax the Quagawumps into hearing them out. Blinky's suggestion, that Toby pretend to be King Quag's reincarnation, had been dismissed as rude, risky, and with a chance of Toby getting possessed. Maybe they should've given it more consideration, though.

"What is the cause of this ruckus?" asked a deeper voice. "Has tonight's first scouting party returned early?"

A tall, brownish-grey troll with a large stomach and back-swept horns walked into the plaza with slow dignity. He wore nothing but a crown with a glowing green gem. He blinked at the sight of humans in the crowd and continued in English.

"Who you now? Why humans here?"

Blue light pulsed over the lines of Jim's armour, calling attention to him.

"I am the Trollhunter, Jim, son of Barbara. These are my allies, Tobias, Claire, Mary, and Darci, and my mentor and trainer, Blinkous Galadrigal. We come to ask a favour of the Quagawump trolls."

"King Blango, am I."

"We are honoured to meet you, King Blango." Jim did a little half-bow. "We have learned of how to kill Gunmar. Your tribe does not need to fight," before anyone started thinking this was an army recruitment speech, "but you do have an object we need to make certain weapon."

A troll jabbed her spear in their direction, too far away to strike and not in the right stance to throw.

"Why do you think you can defeat Gunmar? What magics do you have?"

"This is my moment," said Toby. He stepped in front of Jim and began waving his hands dramatically. "Watch and be amazed. Abracadabra, nothing up my sleeve-era!"

He pressed his hands together, folded his thumb into his hand and pinched his other thumb under his forefinger, drew his hands apart to show his 'severed thumb', then put his hands back together and, with a flourish, waved his ten intact digits at the crowd.

The Quagawumps all gasped.

"He dismembered his hand, and then rejoined his flesh and bone?"

"His magic is so powerful!"

"The Trollhunter has found mighty allies! AI-YI-YI-YI-YI-YI-YAAA!"

"AI-YI-YI-YI-YI-YI-YAAA!"

Blango laughed. "Dismemberment amuse Blango."

Why did he keep speaking English? Did he not believe the humans spoke trollish? Did he find it offensive that they did? Or was he trying to intimidate them with his intelligence? Speaking your own language will not allow you to confer privately amongst yourselves, because I understand it too. Or was he trying to be hospitable, like how Jim tried to make a good impression by speaking trollish?

"What you ask of us?"

"Allow me borrowing the last living stone of King Quag, to unite the Triumbric Stones. You have my oath that I will return it once Gunmar is dead."

King Blango's expression went from amused to annoyed.

"King Quag not able help you," he said scornfully. "Shatter-ed King was – shatter-ed. Stone is mine! King am I!"

"My favourite musical," said Toby.

"What?"

"It's like a play, with singing?"

"Sing for us?" requested someone hidden in the crowd. The locals nodded among themselves, murmuring approvingly of this idea. One of them tapped on a section of Heartstone like the crystals were drums, sending a resonant boomp, boomp through the air.

For a moment, it looked like they might actually get away with that – defusing tension with an improvised musical number.

King Blango punched the ground and roared "NO!"

The plaza went silent.

Blango took two thudding steps closer to the humans. Jim edged forward to make sure he was between them and the troll. Blango leaned into Jim's face.

"You want crown … you fight me."

Jim had hoped it wouldn't come to that, but shrugged off his backpack casually, as though he wasn't worried.

"Okay."

"Master Jim –" Blinky tried to object. Blango threw a punch before he could finish.

Jim jumped over it and onto Blango's back.

Jim yanked Blango's ear and leaned, turning Blango away from the humans and sending him stumbling.

Blango grabbed Jim's leg and pulled him off. Jim's conjured knife left an ugly scrape down the king's back. It cut deep enough for purple blood started oozing up before that strip of stone went grey and lifeless.

Blango roared and threw Jim.

Jim rolled and snarled. Blango was between Jim and the humans now.

The amulet pulsed. Daylight manifested in Jim's empty hand.

He could conjure a throwing knife, but there were too many unacceptable potential casualties if he missed.

He was dimly aware of the noise of the crowd, of his friends and Blango's subjects reacting to each move of the fight. Blinky had one hand on each human's upper arm, to keep the four of them from jumping in.

Jim readied the blades. He and Blango started circling each other. They had only gone a few paces when Jim's foot slipped.

Blango charged and grabbed Jim by the neck.

Jim slashed Blango's arm.

Blango dropped Jim and clutched his wound.

Jim's knife and sword vanished when he landed. Blango grabbed Jim around the torso with his uninjured hand, and Jim drew his Creeper's Sun dagger.

Blango started to squeeze. The armour glowed more brightly, the forcefield keeping him from crushing Jim, but not repelling him. Jim touched the dagger's tip to Blango's throat.

"Surrender."

The king laughed.

"Blango never surrender to human," he sneered.

Jim turned the knife just slightly to the side and stabbed him through the shoulder. "Okay."

Blango dropped Jim again and fell to his knees, gasping for air as the toxin spread across his chest.

"What – happening?"

"It's a poison. It petrifies, but does not kill." Jim plucked off the crown just as Blango's head turned grey and inanimate. Sometimes the toxin could spread to clothing and he didn't want to risk decapitating Blango just to chisel the Killstone off him. To their audience, Jim announced, "I have the antidote for reviving him after we've left."

Jim started turning back the prongs of the gem setting, to remove the stone from the crown.

The swamp was still.

One of the mossy trolls cheered. "The Pretend King is gone!"

"Blango was our king!" snapped another troll near her. "Just because he was not the Lost King does not mean –"

"He was not even a Wumpa!" interrupted a third.

"He still led us for nearly two centuries!" countered a fourth.

In seconds, the Quagawumps were all yelling at each other. In minutes, they were shoving and smacking.

"We should go now," said Glug, in English.

Jim got his backpack back from Toby. He put the Killstone inside and took out a small bottle of Creeper's Sun antitoxin and a marker.

Antidote. Add piece of Heartstone and pour on poisoned troll, he wrote on the plastic. He left it on the table, along with the empty crown.

While he was crossing under the archway they'd come in through, Jim heard the unmistakable sound of breaking stone. He turned and saw that Blango had been toppled. These trolls now had two 'shattered kings'.

Toby started to turn around, as well. Jim put a hand on his shoulder and urged him forward.

Out in the swamplands, between the Quagawump plaza and the Gyre station, Toby said quietly to Jim, "You stabbed that guy."

"Yeah."

"It was scary, watching you fight like that. He could've killed you."

"Maybe? The armour did its job, though."

Jim had definitely had worse fights, which was probably not what Toby needed to hear right now. Blango had grabbed Jim a few times, but never properly hit him, and the throws and drops hadn't done much damage.

"I filmed the fight, if you want to watch later," Mary offered.

Jim made a noncommittal noise. He wasn't sure what to say to that. None of his training had covered 'what to say when your human friends comment on seeing you kill someone'.

(Well, it did, actually, but those options were 'deny it and prepare to discredit the human in the eyes of local authorities if necessary, or get the human alone and kill them too'.)

"I wonder what are the Quagawumps going to do for a leader now," said Clare.

"They'll find one," said Glug. "Maybe a Queen this time."

The Janus Order had a drinking game, called 'And What Have You Done?', which involved bragging about various accomplishments they had picked up in their time on the surface.

How it worked was that one Changeling would say a thing they'd done – like "I have officiated a wedding" or "I was a pirate" – and everyone who had done it would drink, and then the one who had said the thing would look at one of the Changelings who hadn't had a drink and ask, "And what have you done?"

It was too bad Jim couldn't tell most of them about his part in 'replacing a head of state'. He'd have to wait at least a decade, until he looked old enough that they wouldn't immediately demand details if he drank along with that.

Back in Trollmarket, Glug went back to the pub. The humans followed Jim into Vendel's workshop. Vendel looked at them, but said nothing, only pointed Jim to the cleaving tools.

Jim scratched his hand through his armour, moving the green Heartstone to his palm again, where he could conceal it once he dropped his armour. He used that hand to pull off the Amulet. Jim put the Amulet and Heartstone into his stomach pocket. He got the Killstone out of his backpack and handed the bag to Toby again.

"If anyone comes in, you guys are just curious about stone cleaving."

He changed shapes.

"You're doing it – like that?" Toby gaped at him. Jim's ears flicked back and down in discomfort.

"It's easier to see the right facets with these eyes. I can't afford to take chances with something this important."

+=+

"A shield?!" Jim yelled in delight. He blocked the fire jets – which would be a terrible idea with non-magical metal, but this didn't conduct the heat for some reason – and whooped. "I got a shield!"

And he'd unlocked one of the Triumbric Stones!

Unless this was something the Eye and the Killstone did as a cumulative effect and neither actually did anything on their own? He'd have to train with the Killstone by itself later.

It was too bad he would have to give it back to the Quagawumps once Gunmar was dead. A shield would be extremely useful, especially since most trolls Jim fought were bigger than him. He'd have to look for another shield-stone.

In his distraction, Jim nearly got crunched by some of the Forge's mechanisms. Not even the weaponry, but the giant gears that operated it. He yelped and jumped away.

His faceplate snapped shut as he recoiled. It had been doing that more and more often since the pepper spray incident. Maybe he should just leave it closed.

Hmm … Jim got an idea and made a quick mental note to practice it at home later, where he could watch his reflection, and wasn't in imminent peril.

+=+

Jim squinted at the mirror and opened his helmet's faceplate. The whole suit of armour flashed blue.

He closed the faceplate. Another blue flash.

He changed forms. This blue light was not quite the same shade, and more … crackly, like fork lightning reflecting off clouds.

The armour was amazingly responsive. At Jim's mental instruction, it covered his horns up, and trapped his ears under his helmet. His ears were a little uncomfortable, but not pinched or in an unnatural position. His helmet was padded, which allowed space for hidden ear pockets.

Jim changed to his human shape while opening the helmet's faceplate. The two blue lights blended into each other.

Jim has always liked his colouring. He felt it made him look intimidating. That was why he wore mostly blue clothing while in human form. The light of a Changeling's transformation tended to be that of their stone skin. Jim's just happened to be similar enough to the Amulet of Daylight that he could pass one glow off for the other.

(That could also come in handy if a fellow Changeling caught him just after he'd dismissed the armour – let them think they'd just missed him switching forms.)

Back to troll shape, closed faceplate. The armour adapted to his form with the new design, concealing his horns and ears. He was taller, but not by a lot – enough that it could be excused as a change of posture.

His tail was a bit of an issue, but since it was covered in armour plating, it looked like part of the faulds and tassets. As long as no one was staring at Jim's butt while he switched forms …

He might be able to train in the Hero's Forge in his troll form after all.

+=+

Previous Chapter (Jim talks to AAARRRGGHH, Toby talks to a therapist, Claire talks to Not Enrique)

Table of Contents

Next Chapter (AAARRRGGHH and Blinky make Jim a tempting offer)

I was rewatching The Shattered King to get ideas of how the swamp scenes would play out without Angor's intervention, and I realized that in canon, Angor killing Blango when he did was probably the best thing that could happen for the protagonists at that point.

Like, if Angor just sat there and watched?

Blango was definitely going to try and kill Toby, which would mean Jim would have to fight and probably kill Blango. Then they'd have to fight their way out of the swamp because the Quagawumps would all be mad. "You show up, lie to us, murder our current leader, and then try to escape while stealing a relic of our most beloved leader?"

And then, when the Tribunal shows up in the next season, the new Quagawump leader would be against Jim just like Usurna and Gatto were.

The Quagawumps in that universe would definitely be unwilling to side with the Trollhunter at the end of Season 3!

But with Angor interfering when he did, not only were Jim's hands clean of Blango's death (meaning Jim at that point in the narrative has only killed goblins, one Changeling, a Stalkling, and Bular, not any "good" – meaning "not serving Gunmar" – trolls), but Toby saves Wumpa from the collapsing petrified tree, so she gives them the Killstone and is willing to hear Jim out at his trial, even if she does ultimately vote against him.

Season 3 is still tense because the Quagawumps wanted to stay out of the fighting at first, making a deal with Gunmar's forces for protection. But, after changing their minds, not only do the Quagawumps fight on the Trollhunter's side during the Eternal Night, they even bring in their extended family as backup.

Also, on a Doylist level I get why the team only discussed their plan while on the way to do it, and why they only discussed where they were going once they had arrived – to deliver exposition to the audience and have that exposition pay off as soon as possible – but on a Watsonian level it was highly impractical. So here they planned it a bit further in advance.

[evolutionsvoid]

Though the savannas are a rather simple looking environment, they are one that is filled with a huge amount of life. Migrating herds can cover the landscape, with fields of browsers and grazers stretching all the way to the horizon. While places like rainforests win out with diversity and the bizarre array of life, the savanna wins by the sheer amount of animals you can witness in plain sight. A fresh morning and a good chair has let me see more creatures in a single day than I have seen in months in other places! This terrestrial sea of life is truly incredible to witness, but these places aren't always packed full. You will notice odd holes and gaps in herds, or stretches of land where no herbivore wishes to step foot. In a world where being in a group is vital for survival, it is strange to see loners sitting out in the open. Usually these avoided creatures are predators, which the reason should be obvious. Some may be for massive creatures that are given a wide berth as no one wishes to be stepped on or knocked about. For one beast, though, there is a special reason. They aren't elephantine or vicious carnivores, but the Catoblepas are certainly dangerous to everything around them. Found grazing in grasslands and savannas, the Catoblepas is quite the peculiar sight. Their bodies are shaped quite normally for a stout herbivore, with a hefty frame and a humped back. The large armored scales are certainly an interesting addition, but not too strange since other herbivores grow their own armor. Their long scaly tails give a reptilian vibe, but still nothing too out of the norm. Then you get to the head of this beast and things get weird. While other creatures hold their heads up high, or at least just hold them up, the Catoblepas lets its noggin just sit on the ground. It isn't temporarily down there for grazing, it stays down there for good. Their long neck seems permanently pointed downward, to the point where old tales say that lifting it upward would suffocate them as they wouldn't know how to breathe or function in this position. This certainly isn't true, but since they rarely ever lift their heads up, you can see why it got started. One of the reasons they may not pick up their heads is because it is a bit bigger than your usual noggin. Looking at their skeleton is a bit comical, because you got this long thin neck and than a chunky skull sitting at the end of it. With their head always sitting on the dirt, one wonders how they move or function. Well, the Catoblepas has come up with some special adaptations to make such an odd position work! If you look at the bottom of the mandible, you will notice it is covered in thick hairs that sprawl all over the place. It is like a beard that is being used like a skirt, but that isn't the weirdest part. Hidden beneath all that hair is a bizarre structure that is made through a unique formation of muscles. The developing and enlarging of these muscles has created something that is akin to the foot of a snail. It is pretty much a fleshy pad of muscle that allows the Catoblepas' head to slowly slither about like a slug. This makes their movements quite interesting to watch, as they must lead with their head anytime they wish to walk. Since this form of travel is sluggish, their body is left waiting for their head to move forward before they can take a single step. When grazing, they will only need their face to get the job done, so their whole body will be sitting still while their head slithers all over the place. Quite bizarre! Still, this mandibular foot does not answer all the questions about the Catoblepas' day-to-day life. If your head is stuck on the ground and you travel with your chin, how do you eat? Once again, this problem is solved by specializing certain muscles. Their lower lip is elongated and specialized to create a proboscis that is similar to an elephant's trunk. This appendage is packed with muscles that give it incredible dexterity and strength, allowing it to pull apart vegetation or yank up buried roots. It also quite sensitive to touch and taste, which it uses to probe out viable food sources. With their heads so low down, eyes aren't really that helpful. You can see this with the messy tangle of hair that constantly covers them, as they don't have much use. Instead it relies on its powerful nose to sniff out food rich areas, than its lip will locate the individual pieces. Grass will be torn and swollen roots will be pulled up and fed to its maw. The Catoblepas chews its food with a front-to-back motion rather than side-to-side, which is assisted by its mandibular foot. It spends a lot of time chewing, making sure it's ground up to an absolute pulp. This is because its dinner has to be forced up its neck to reach its stomach, so the squishier and softer the meal is, the easier it is to swallow! As a strict grazer, the Catoblepas spends a large chunk of its day seeking out and eating vegetation. This lengthy process is mainly because these creatures move at a snail's pace. They are quite slow and never in a hurry to get anywhere. When night falls, they often just sleep where they are, then wake up in the morning and continue their dining. So we got a slow loner herbivore that doesn't take cover at night and has terrible eyesight. Surely these creatures are vulnerable to predators, right? The Catoblepas is not a species that fears running into predators, it is a beast that predators are terrified of running into.

While their goofy appearance and slow ways has made them quite famous around the world, they have another thing that makes them notorious. If one already does not know the answer, then perhaps a look at its colorful display may give a hint. Lots of creatures use their coloration to hide or blend in, but there are some who choose to stand out for a very specific reason. You see, the diet of the Catoblepas is mostly vegetation, but they have specific foods they like the most. Plants tend to develop toxins and poisons to keep herbivores from eating them, and that is what the Catoblepas seeks out. Any poisonous vegetation is free game to this species, as they seem to have an incredible immunity to practically any toxin. As they consume these deadly foods, the toxins and noxious fluids are absorbed and moved to special organs. Located near the respiratory system, these vessels mix these poisons with their own secretions, turn that soup into a vapor and release them on each exhale. This results in the Catoblepas literally breathing poisonous clouds, surrounding itself in a deadly fog. One good breath will get you a lungful of Catoblepas poison and whatever plant toxins it had ingested. This dietary mixture is what makes this weapon so dangerous, as its properties are affected by what it has recently eaten. That means making an antidote or building an immunity is useless, as each cloud will contain a unique mixture of plant poisons. The side effects of inhaling this vapor will also be different each time, as it may result in things like vomiting, paralysis, blindness, swelling, itchiness, muscle spasms and so much more. Whatever the poison of a plant can do to you, the Catoblepas can weaponize and put it in the air. I heard that an Ivy Dryad once fell asleep on a hunting trip and woke up to find a Catoblepas licking her. Though she ran off before it started chewing, that particular beast spent the next few days spraying her burning oils everywhere, which the locals were not a fan of. This incredible defense is why every creature gives a Catoblepas a wide berth. Herbivores and carnivores alike want nothing to do with these beasts. There are a few creatures that can withstand this deathly fog. Dryads can tolerate it, but sometimes it can even be dangerous to us. Some plants create toxins to halt the growth of surrounding competitors, and this poison can be added to the mist. It may not be lethal to us, but it will certainly mess you up for a week or two. Ivy Dryads and their hybrids seem to have the strongest immunity, for the obvious reasons. Funny enough, some say that the art of the Venoness was inspired by the Catoblepas. You can definitely see where one would get that idea! One of the other beasts that may survive the aura of the Catoblepas is their cousins, the Khalkotauroi. These hulking brutes have been seen happily grazing besides their brethren, unfazed by the poisonous air. Honestly, if you see this duo out in the wild, keep far far away. This pairing is certainly one of the most dangerous combinations out there. A mouthful of poison will leave you choking for air, just long enough to get your body splattered across the savanna by the Khalkotauroi. As if those ornery behemoths weren't dangerous enough as it is! With this deadly aura ever present around them, you can see why very few things ever try to eat them. Any attempts must be done during windy days, when the weather blows their clouds away. Even then, one must stay upwind so that the poison isn't blown onto them, but this allows the Catoblepas to smell the attack coming. When agitated, these creatures will snort and churn out even more poison. The best method to take one down is to bait it into using up all its poisonous gas, which will take a bit. Once its stores are all used up, you may be able to attack. This still doesn't guarantee a safe kill, as the Catoblepas has another line of defense. Since it spends all its life marinating in its own vapors, the gas tends to leave a toxic residue on its body. A single cut or scratch from its scales or tusks will introduce the poison into your body. It is best to kill it from afar, aiming for its vulnerable neck. Though I have heard of some tribes hunting Catoblepas before, I certainly wouldn't do it. Every inch of them is poisonous, and the method of making their meat safe to eat is quite lengthy. Seems more trouble than it's worth! I have heard that certain Catoblepas cuts are considered a delicacy in some higher circles, and that baffles me. I have had the chance to eat their meat before and it certainly isn't anything special. It is just beef with a bit of sharpness to it, that is all. For the locals who hunt them, I understand that they need whatever food that they can get. For the rich idiots who call it a delicacy, it seems like nonsense to me. They are just eating it because it is hard to get and expensive. Maybe I should start selling Swamp Basilisk livers for a high price and see how many oafs buy it. Yeah, it taste like bog and death, but it is a delicacy! I swear! As famous creatures, you can imagine the Catoblepas has made quite the impact. Their notoriety and bright colors make them a must-see for travelers and tourists. Their colorful pelts and shiny scales are sought after by collectors and hunters, though they must be very careful when handling them! This same armor is also popular for native warriors and hunters, as it offers great defense. Practitioners of Thericorium also value the sturdiness and strength of these scales. The added color is also a nice touch! While some good can be made from these beasts, Catoblepas are very much feared when they are alive and walking about. Their poisonous fog can create a whole lot of problems, and many of these issues can lead to death. Just breathing it in is an obvious danger, and it is hazard that can take out anyone. Hunters and travelers are advised to keep close attention to their surroundings, as a nearby beast and a strong breeze can be fatal. Local hunters often refer to these beasts as the "Killer of Fools" and a tool of the gods to weed out the sloppy and stupid. In their eyes, every hunter should be aware of their surroundings and be mindful of the beasts and environment. To be caught in the cloud either means you missed the big colorful ungulate that was shuffling about or you weren't paying attention to the wind which is vital for taking down prey undetected. Screw any of those two up and you are no hunter! Those out hunting the wilds, though, aren't the only ones who must fear its poison. Farmers and livestock owners must be sure to keep any of these beasts away, lest they poison their animals or leave a toxic residue on their crops. This can destroy one's livelihood, but some have found an advantage to this deadly fog. One local tale speaks of a farmer whose crops were spared from a locust plague due to a Catoblepas being nearby. This taught the people the idea of pest control, and using specialized poisons to protect their plants. There is a famous plantation in these lands that is run by Ivy Dryads and actually keeps several Catoblepas on the property. Immune to its poisons, they feed these beasts certain plants and mixtures so that their fog is tuned to warding off pests and parasites. It also has the added bonus of keeping away thieves, as these crops are poisonous until they are properly cleaned. It seems like a risky bet to me, but apparently their produce is top notch, so what do I know? To properly and thoroughly wash my fruits and vegetables is what I know! Catoblepas are also carefully watched to make sure they don't go near the village's water source. Though the small amount of fog that touches the water may be diluted and neutralized, having a Catoblepas dunk itself for a bath will certainly cause some havoc. There is even a famous story that speaks of two greedy brothers that angered the gods, which involved one of these incidents. Apparently this duo was taking more from the land than they were giving, hunting and killing every beast they saw. A Catoblepas was sent by the gods to stop them, but the clever brothers drove it into a pond where the water washed away all its poison. They then killed it and hacked off its tusks as trophies. After a few more days of butchering the local wildlife, they headed back home to their family for a celebration. The whole family cooked up their spoils and had a feast. During this indulgent banquet, though, everyone grew sick and died. It turned out that the mother of the two had gone and drawn water from this pond after they had killed the Catoblepas. This poisoned drink was unknowingly served to the whole family and struck them down. This tale no doubt drove many to come up with ways to keep these beasts away from their homes and resources. Funny enough, one of the ways to ward off these creatures is to put up low fences or sharp stakes on the ground. Since it can't really lift its head, any obstacle that it can't crawl over is avoided. I mean, if you had to walk with your face, you wouldn't be all that adventurous either!         Due to their anatomy and poisonous aura, the Catoblepas has been used to describe a certain condition. It is called Catoblepas Syndrome, and it plagues researchers, archivists and students alike. It arises during long periods of intense research, or when exams are on the horizon. Those who hole themselves up to study and read for hours on end, burying their faces in books and scrolls. Permanently hunched over their desks and work stations, their necks forever point downward into their notes. As they feverishly read and write, they neglect proper hygiene and cease to bathe, resulting in the most putrid of smells! Friends, families and coworkers alike are driven away by this deathly cloud, fearful of the monster that created it! Truly this tragic disease has claimed many obsessed researchers, nearly taking me in its clutches! Thankfully I was saved by a coworker who got me to take a break and a bath! Disaster averted! Ha! But seriously, for all you studious folk out there, be sure to take a break from your work from time to time. A strong mind is a healthy mind! And be sure to bathe too, the whole world will thank you for that!   I do have to say, I am very thankful that my work on these creatures is done through writing and not through verbal presentation. Their name is an absolute nightmare for me to pronounce and I am happy I have not humiliated myself on stage trying to say it. Props to the researchers who do speak to audience about the Catoblepas and nail the pronunciation every time. If it were me, people would be learning about the wonders and adaptations of the Catobleyplebusmoos. Chlora Myron Dryad Natural Historian ------------------------------------------------- This thing took me waaaay too many tries to draw. I would get halfway done and think "nah this sucks," then try again. After three times, I finished the piece, colored it in and said "nah this sucks." The colors were what killed the last version, as I went with bland grays and browns. I was trying to do the dumb "mammals are drab earthy colors" thing, but that is a boring restriction I somehow have. Mammals come in all sorts of colors, so there is no excuse. Then I also got to thinking that poisonous animals rarely want to blend in, as they advertise their dangerous nature quite blatantly. I figured a famously noxious creature like the Catoblepas would believe in aposematism and would make sure the whole world knew they were there. My sister picked out the ring-necked snake as an inspiration (which turns out isn't all that dangerous, but dang those colors are good) and I went with that! So these beasties are a lot more colorful now! May seem quite odd out in the middle of a savanna or grassland, but I think any creature would respect the visual warning from a beast that spews clouds of death.

[bluespiderlilies]

Reincarnation | Hashibira Inosuke

chapter: one / “boar boy.”

chapter: two / “check.”

chapter: three / “in the shadows.”

chaper: four / “endure.”

chapter: five / “in the clouds.”

chapter: six / “senses.” 

❝you call me child, you call me weak, you call me naïve,

oh, but sweetheart, i am a goddess, 

my blood is made of stardust, and my heart of burning flames,

i have the strength of a warrior, and the mind of a wise man,

you thought you could lock me in your grasp,

but my sword is sharp, and your grip loose,

and this is how i became the queen.❞

— my blade is red, and i have come to take your crown (via worthystevie on tumblr).

The snake demon’s lips curled upwards into a cruel smile, an occasional hiss and the appearance of his forked tongue coming out of his mouth.

“I can feel your fear.” He giggled, sapphire eyes filled with a sick delight. “You’re so weak that it’s actually cute.”

Cute?

Weak?

You almost wanted to snort. How dare he underestimate you?

Deep breaths.

Deep.

Breaths.

Focus.

Focusfocusfocusfocus.

He’s trying to provoke you.

You need to set your plan into action.

You looked up at the snake demon, eyes wide and hands trembling with “fear”. Tears began to prickle your eyes, a sob escaping your lips.

“P-please…! I, I don’t want to die!” You stuttered, stumbling backwards.

Oh, you should’ve gotten into the acting business instead. Maybe become a good geisha? Or get into Noh or Kyogen theater?

“Fool!” The demon snarled, slithering towards your with its snake-like lower body. “You already sealed your fate when you walked into the farmhouse.”

You let out an ear-splitting screech, running and almost tripping (purposely) multiple times whilst trying to exit the farmhouse. You heard the eerie giggles of the demon echo from behind you as you busted open the door, falling onto your side.

“Why are you trying to get away from your inevitable death, naïve mouse?”

You tried not to roll your eyes at his nicknames. Were people these days just not creative anymore?

You screamed for help, scrambling off the ground and tried to run further into the deserted, dry field.

“Please! Please spare me!” You begged, tears streaming down your cheeks as you continued to sob in fear.

The snake demon giggled. “No demon slayer has come out of here alive! And you’re certainly not the last one!”

Internally, you smirked in triumph. He was beginning to take the bait—his ego seemed to get bigger each time you begged, which made him more blind to everything that was going on around him.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Inosuke on the roof of the farmhouse, taking a stance as he was ready to jump off the roof at the right time to slice of the demon’s neck.

You quickly shifted your attention to the demon in front of you, not wanting him to catch your line of sight and foil your plans.

You really didn’t want Inosuke to get killed because of you.

You already had so much on your shoulders—the last thing you wanted as another death on you. Nonetheless someone you cared about and even considered as a friend.

“Not the last, huh?” You mumbled, looking at the demon straight in the eye. You bunched up some dirt in your hand, throwing it right at his face.

The snake hissed in pain, scratching at his eyes in an attempt to get the dirt out. Your eyes met with Inosuke’s, who took it as a cue to attack the demon and finally slice his neck.

The snakes wrapped around the demon, however, alerted him—which caused Inosuke to miss his neck entirely. The snakes hissed threateningly, baring their poisonous fangs at Inosuke and stretched out their bodies towards him.

Inosuke cursed, slicing the snakes off the demon before he landed on the ground, using his hands to stop sliding backwards.

You used his distraction as an opportunity to unsheathe your sword, aiming for his abdomen.

Taking in a deep breath, you mutter, “Tenth Style: Frigid Night.”

As you raised the katana over your head, aiming to cut off the lower part of the demon’s body, it felt like everything was in slow motion; only you were there in that moment, a wave of coldness washing over everything that was surrounding you.

A thin yet strong sheet of ice encased your sword as you let out breath; the puff of white, condensed air escaping your mouth.

With one swift sweeping motion, the lower half of his body was severed off; the long, slick snake tail disintegrating.

However…

Crack!

Your eyes widened, holding up your blade to examine. It wasn’t just the ice that was broken; your blade had cracked slightly, thunderbolt-like markings etched within the forged metal.

Ah, fuck. Haganezuka is gonna kill me.

You bit the insides of your cheek, eyes shifting towards the demon in front of you.

“Argh!” The snake demon roared shifting his attention towards you, fists clenching.

“No matter! I can regenerate and fix my eyes!”

In no less than a second, like a salamander, his snake-like lower body was regenerated; in place was glimmering silver scales instead of its previous black ones.

You looked over at his face, watching how his eyeballs fell out its sockets, falling onto the ground with a disgusting plop.

You gagged, raising your hand to your mouth to prevent yourself from throwing up once again as you continued to watch as three snake creatures wormed out of his empty eye sockets, now acting as his so-called “eyes”.

“What the fuck! That’s so nasty!” Inosuke cursed wildly, pointing his blades at the demon, who merely chuckled loudly in response.

“You may think so,” He hissed, forked tongue protruding from his mouth, “but now I can see even better.”

You cursed under your breath, nails digging into the skin of your palm—causing it to tear slightly, light droplets of the crimson liquid tricking down your hand.

You messed up.

Big time.

The cost? Your lives, perhaps.

You hated making mistakes. You hated it when things didn’t go the way you planned it. You hated when things went wrong under your watch, because of you.

You were the blame of what was happening right now.

I’m so sorry, Inosuke.

I’m so sorry.

You might die because of me. But I won’t let that happen.

Your grip around the katana tightened.

Even if it costs me my life.

“Shit! What the hell is this?!” You heard Inosuke shout angrily, wriggling in the grip of the snakes that the demon had sent to immobilize him. The green python snakes wrapped around his arms, legs, and torso—applying pressure and squeezing tightly.

“Fourteenth Style: Crescent Moon!” You muttered under your breath, carefully yet swiftly slicing the snakes on his in one curved motion—akin to the curve of a crescent moon.

You placed your sword back in its sheath, satisfied with the results in front of you. Your eyes lingered over the disintegrating snakes, not aware of what was happening.

“(Name)!” He roared, and you turned around—only to feel like your breath had been knocked out of you. Firm arms wrapped around your body, Inosuke was now sitting up and straddling you.

Your eyes widened.

When did we get in this position? Oh, Amaterasu…

You hurt a loud crash, causing you to push him off of you gently to see what had happened. If Inosuke hadn’t tackled you, you…

You would’ve been crushed.

Crushed by the demon’s tail.

“Th-thank you, Inosuke.” You stuttered out, breathless.

A puff of steam came out of his nose, crossing his arms in a proud manner.

“Why would I let you get killed? I’m as strong as a god!”

You rolled your eyes and shook your head, averting your attention to what the most important thing at the moment—the demon.

“I’m going to try cutting off his abdomen again. Maybe you could use the opportunity to get his neck.” You told him, brushing off the dirt on your hakama and taking out your sword from its sheath.

“Tenth Style: Frigid Night.” You murmur, taking off in a sprint with your sword on your side, the tip of the blade dragging beside you as it slowly encased itself in ice—everything around you going cold.

You quickly jumped upwards when the snake demon attempted to crush you once again with its tail, raising the sword over your head—making impact with his torso.

“Agh...” You grunted, putting more pressure onto the sword. You let out a breath, a puff of white, condensed air coming out of your mouth as you finally sliced off the lower half of its body.

The one problem, however?

Clink!

At least three-quarters of your sword had fallen onto the ground, cleanly snapping off the metal from its respective place.

Dammitdammitdammit—

The scales were so tough that it managed to break your sword this time. Of course, there were the cracks from earlier, but…

You didn’t expect it to break.

Now Haganezuka would surely kill you.

“You human scum!” The snake demon shrieked, his snake body slowly regenerating. “Now you will surely die! Especially now your katana is broken!”

You clicked your tongue in annoyance, jumping back a couple times when the snake demon moved his tail to attack you multiple times.

You tripped, falling onto your back harshly, leaving you breathless for a moment. You bit the insides of your cheek, cursing yourself and your luck as you felt his tail wrap around your legs; raising you upwards, it caused you to dangle upside down.

Hm.

You tentatively touched the scales of the tail that were wrapped around your legs.

These are much softer.

“I’ll crush you like an insect!”

An insect? You haven’t heard that insult in a long while.

“You’ll have to try harder to kill me, snake demon.” You said, using what was left of your sword to slice the tail; meaning, your theory was right—the lower parts had much softer scales to cut.

You fell forward, squeezing your eyes shut as you crashed through the roof of the farmhouse, landing on your side—jolts of pain resonated through your body, as if you had sickening sensation of flames licking at every inch of your body; burning it alive from the inside.

You coughed, forcing yourself to get up. You couldn’t let Inosuke deal with the demon on his own; he’d die. You didn’t want that.

You placed what was left of your sword back in its sheath, quickly taking off your bow from across your shoulder and taking three arrows from the quiver, running out of the farmhouse—trying to ignore the pain that encased your body.

“Inosuke!” You shouted, “Please, listen to me!”

He snapped his head towards you as he sliced more of the snake demon’s python minions that slithered after him.

“Use your senses. Feel the vibrations. Because as soon as I release these arrows, there will be no light.” You spoke, drawing your arrows to the anchor point—white fetching tickling your chin.

“Fourth Style: Hidden in the Shadows!” You cried, releasing the arrows; as soon as you did, black mist surrounded the entire area you were in—not even the moon’s glow could penetrate through the murky darkness of area that you created.

You stayed in place, eyes closed as you focused on a breathing technique one of the shamans from your old village taught you.

“Izumi-san! Izumi-san!” You called out, running towards her as fast as you could whilst waving your arm.

Her head snapped towards the direction in which you came from, her lips pulling upwards into a warm smile.

“My dear (Name)! Hello.” She greeted, patting your head gently.

You bowed politely, smiling at her. “Do you need help? Are you going to the springs?”

Izumi shook her head, placing her warm hands on yours. “Thank you, my sweet (Name). But I can navigate on my own even if I cannot see.”

You frowned. “But how? What if you get hurt while going to the springs? That’s why I came over. To greet you and help you since you can’t see.”

“Oh, but I can. Just in a different way.” She chuckled lightly, hands leaving yours to tuck in a loose gray hair behind her ear.

“Huh? Really?” You questioned, looking over at her skeptically whilst placing a hand on your hip.

Izumi laughed, shaking her head at you. “(Name), there is a way. There’s a special Breath technique you can use. My mother and I developed it ourselves, since she couldn’t see as well. After all, I did inherit it from her.”

You faltered. Was this true? You felt bad for being rude towards her. She was much, much older than you after all. She like, what? In her hundreds?

“You see, by using the Breath technique, you can feel even the slightest vibration as long your bare feet are touching the ground—or if you’re wearing very thin footwear. Using those vibrations, I can easily percept my surroundings.” Izumi explained, gesturing to her feet—which were indeed bare.

Your eyes widened. Was that really possible? How interesting!

“I never knew you could do such a thing! Could you please, please teach me?” You pleaded, tugging on the sleeve of her kimono tightly.

“Of course. It’s quite simple, but needs practice to perfect it. You must control your breaths and even it out whilst focusing them not on your lungs, but your skin and blood—while using this, your sense of touch increases by at least a thousand than normal. You can feel anything. Even the beating of wings from a bird far away.” She set down her cane while explaining, touching your chin lightly and massaging your shoulders.

You didn’t know that your body was tense until she did so, body relaxing under her gentle touch. Indeed, it was something you weren’t at all used to.

You did what she said, taking deep breaths and evening them out—trying to control them in order for them to increase your blood flow and the sensitivity of your skin whilst closing your eyes. It was like what Grandmother taught you—except, replacing it with Izumiʼs methods.

It felt like a whole new world as you continued to practice the technique. You felt your body tremble as you moved forward, feeling the vibrations on your feet and your entire body; you could feel the sign that welcomed hot spring goers just ten steps away, Izumi’s body two steps away, and, and—

It was all so overwhelming.

“With practice, (Name), you will get used to the sensations over time. For the first few times, it will be overwhelming and feel like a sensory overload.” Izumi told you, placing a hand on your shoulder as you opening your eyes, halting the technique. It was too much for you right now.

“I…it’s so strange. I don’t know if I can do it.” You muttered, sitting down in front of her in attempt to calm your shaky body. It was probably an after affect of the technique after using it for the first time.

“Hush,” she shushed, placing a finger on your lips. “You can do it. I promise. I believe in you.”

You swallowed thickly, feeling a bump beginning to form in your throat.

For some reason, it felt like you were floating. Was this how it felt when someone you liked put their faith in you?

It felt good.

So, so good.

You smiled. “Thank you, Izumi-san. I hope I don’t disappoint you.”

She smiled back. “You won’t. I know that.”

You smiled to yourself, closing your eyes as you focused on your breathing. With even breaths, you concentrated on increasing your blood flow whilst also increasing the sensitivity of your skin; in mere moments, goosebumps littered your skin, feeling the hairs on the back of your neck rise at the new sensations you now felt.

Taking two gentle steps forward, you could feel the vibrations pulsating, connecting to your feet and then throughout your entire body. Just sixteen steps away from your right, Inosuke was standing with both of his swords held up readily.

Twenty-two steps in front of you was the snake, hissing wildly as the snakes its in eye sockets moved around in a frantic manner, unable to see its enemies.

With steps light as a feather, you moved around quickly, sending wisteria arrows from all directions so the snake demon couldn’t pinpoint your location; with that, you could hear the snake demon roar in pain, cursing you and Inosuke.

“Inosuke!” You yelled, quickly moving to another spot, “now!”

You could hear the boy chuckle ruthlessly, jumping off the roof of the farmhouse. With ease, using a breath, he sliced off the demon’s neck.

However, as soon as he did, some of the snakes on the demon’s torso cut him multiple times with their non-venomous fangs.

He grunted as he landed on the ground, the mist disappearing and the snake demon disintegrating.

“Inosuke! Are you okay?” You asked, jumping off from one of the tree branches you perched on, hurriedly running over to him—trying not to limp; you didnʼt want to worry anyone.

“I’m fine! Just a couple cuts!” He shouted, slapping your hands away.

“Yes, but they’re bleeding, aren’t they? We need to disinfect them so they don’t get any bad germs in them.” You reasoned, already taking out your medium-sized pouch full of only some of your medical supplies.

“Need to what?! I don’t care! I don’t need any of your weird—” Inosuke stopped yelling as soon as you started to gently rub a sweet smelling ointment on his collarbone and shoulders, making him relax under your touch.

“Did you say something?” You teased, a small smile playing on your lips as you continued to work on the wounds on cuts on his chest and shoulders.

“Sh-shut up.” He stuttered, cheeks growing hot and red.

Why did he feel like this? It began to make his mask to feel all stuffy and warm.

He took off his mask and sat on the ground, the chilly breeze of the night air cooling his face. You followed after him, sitting on your knees by his side as you dabbed more of the scented ointment on your fingers.

It was…it was so relaxing. Your touch, the smell, the way you rubbed the ointment on his skin (even though he felt a light sting from here and there) it all felt really good.

Your touch felt really good.

He kept quiet, paying attention to the sounds around him. He was thinking too much. He didn’t need that.

“Okay, I’m done. Just need to get the bandages on.” You spoke, though it was mostly to yourself as you wiped the residue of the ointment on your fingers on your hakama (what? You didn’t have any handkerchiefs on you or anything).

Inosuke would be outright lying if he didn’t miss your light, cool touch against his skin. He would never admit that, however. Never.

After wrapping one last bandaged around his abdomen, you placed your medical supplies back into the larger pouch you kept on the side of your hip.

“Now that’s done, why don’t we eat?” You announced with a large smile on your face, patting your pouch. “I have some food that the Shoji family gave us.”

Inosuke’s eyes lit up, immediately reaching for your pouch (but you slapped his hands away).

Now food was something Inosuke wanted. And wanting to eat said food was something he wanted definitely admit.