#black and green circle lens

[yanderestarangel]

⋆ 𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐃𝐈𝐋𝐅 𝐋𝐈𝐁𝐑𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐀𝐍!𝐌𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐄𝐋 𝐎'𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀 ⋆

A/N: He's back bitches, DADDY MIGUEL O'HARA.

SYNOPSIS: Miguel is a 45-year-old man who works in a local library, also giving tutoring classes in literature to the local village community, you decide to go visit him after being on vacation, awakening a side of himself that Miguel didn't know.

TW: Yandere themes, age gap, afab anatomy, betrayal, dark themes, threats, manipulation, smut, au.

YANDERE DILF LIBRARIAN!MIGUEL O'HARA -He leads a peaceful life, always opening the library at 9 am and closing at 9 pm, sometimes staying overtime to look at the landscape outside the large windows, to try to forget his failed marriage with his wife.

YANDERE DILF LIBRARIAN!MIGUEL O'HARA - Who has the same patterns every day, namely: taking both children to school by car, buying the same fruits to eat throughout the day - a few dates, an apple and a bottle of coffee aluminum portable, hot and sugar-free in the dark green side pouch he carries everything he needs for that day -

YANDERE DILF LIBRARIAN!MIGUEL O'HARA - What you see in a boring life, everything was the same, he worked out, went for walks on the weekends, watched the same period films after 11pm, in the same leather armchair that got hot in the uncomfortable summer heat, drinking the same beer while the black and white images of the Hollywood film passed through the lens of his glasses, while he smelled the cold food made by his wife, who as always, had left the children with him and gone out.

YANDERE DILF LIBRARIAN!MIGUEL O'HARA - Who woke up late that day due to the hangover from the several beers he had on Sunday, rushing to drop his children off at school and avoid an argument with his wife early in the morning. He calmly went to the library, after all, there was no one there at that end of the world. But he was wrong. He soon saw you, sitting on the steps of the cold concrete stairs while waiting for someone to open the library, he had never seen you in the community, so it was a surprise for him to see someone so beautiful and different from the routine faces in the village. Miguel got out of the car, adjusting his round glasses, giving you a polite "good morning", his strong accent mixed with the smell of coffee coming from his lips, he opened the library while looking you up and down, he would casually ask you your name and what you do there. You spoke your reasons politely, while explaining that you were on vacation and decided to visit the tourist attractions of that village, such as the lighthouse and rough sea, as well as the large library, which, in addition to needing some literature classes, you two were taking Miguel O'Hara nods and gives a practically invisible sideways shy smile.

YANDERE DILF LIBRARIAN!MIGUEL O'HARA - Who gets excited like a young man when he sees you interested in literature, Miguel would make a point of giving you some books as a gift, explaining about each one, especially if you like gothic literature, such as: Bram Stocker, Marion Zimmer Bradley, Edgar Allan Poe, Bram Stocker - or horror stories, he automatically falls in love if you, speaking excerpts from his favorite stories while pouring you some coffee, sitting in front of him while the two of you did a literary duo circle, the voices echoing through the ancient wood.

"-With a long scrutinizing look at the shadow, which frightens me, which haunts me, And I dream of what no mortal has ever dreamed of, But the vast and silent silence, silent remains; the quiet stillness." -O'Hara reads with a strong, hoarse accent, his voice was raw, reverberating his passion for each verse and word he spoke, holding the book in his thick fingers, now, with the abandonment of the wedding ring he wore, even though he was still married, you didn't need to know that detail.

"-Only you, unique and beloved word, Lenora, you, like a scarce sigh, leave my sad mouth; And the echo, which heard you, whispered to you in space; It was just that, nothing more." -You completed, reading your part in the tale of "The Crow" while feeling the older man's gauze on your body, while Salvatore's hands massaged your bare shoulder, lightly adjusting the clothes you wore, a long and possessive touch.

YANDERE DILF LIBRARIAN!MIGUEL O'HARA - Who offers you a ride home, turning on the radio while asking you everything about yourself, if you were dating, if you had traveled with someone, he expected you to be totally alone, totally for him. Miguel drops you off at home while he says a quick goodbye, but he actually just hides the car in the middle of some trees, looking out your windows, writing down your nighttime habits in a diary - he got home later that night, his wife noticed the delay, but he just made up an excuse, mostly lying that he had lost the ring in a library cleaning, which was a lie, he got rid of the ring in the sea, near the local town port -

YANDERE DILF LIBRARIAN!MIGUEL O'HARA - Who studied everything about you on the days you two were alone in the library, becomes his refuge. Don't get him wrong, O'Hara loves his children, but he hates coming home and seeing that his marriage is a failure, and that the woman he was once so in love with, young days that passed through his life in long ago, Now she's just a strange and cold woman, but you? You are his treasure, always happy, smiling sweetly, asking if he is okay, or if he has eaten that day, if he needs help with something in his work as a librarian, you are so angelic, so beautiful, so his. You're totally his, aren't you?

YANDERE DILF LIBRARIAN!MIGUEL O'HARA - Who lies to you about his private life, saying that his wife and he are divorced and he just lets her live close to the children, he lies so naturally that even he himself believes in the madness of his mind.

YANDERE DILF LIBRARIAN!MIGUEL O'HARA- Who finds an excuse to leave you up late with him in the library, telling you about some more books, and giving you a letter, letters that were always sealed in luxurious black paper like an envelope, with a red coat of arms with an 'M' for Miguel, big in the center, he always asked you to open it at home, they were poems and poetry written by him, about you, but each time, with each letter given to you, they became darker, more intense, more... Intimate.

YANDERE DILF LIBRARIAN!MIGUEL O'HARA - Which makes you sit on his muscular legs that night in the peace of the library, while his big, calloused hands lightly run over your thighs, while he praises you. "-Your skin is soft like the finest and purest silk, your lips are full and shiny with life, your smile is like the epitome of beauty, I look at you and see an angel, not even the richest kings who had harems with several women And men, none of them come close to your beauty, mi angelito, did you know that? Your heart is so pure and beautiful, your soul is practically eradicated from your carnal being." -Miguel spoke hoarsely, as he forced you to look at him, his eyes shone, not only with enlightenment but with love, a sick love for you.

YANDERE DILF LIBRARIAN!MIGUEL O'HARA -He fingers you slowly and lightly, giving you kisses on the head, feeling the smell and softness of your hair, his fingers enter and curve slightly, he was an expert in that, he wanted to make you come, to make you see the stars in the sky pleasure he could give you. Miguel praises you even more when he sees you moaning so beautifully, writhing in his lap, while he whispers in your ear how well you do it, being such a good girl/boy for him, giving yourself to him like that, like you It's beautiful when your pussy tightens around his fingers, how perfect you are when you let your sweet saliva run down your lips like that, while he gives you all the pleasure, making you squirm on his arm full of veins and scars from the time he had, dirtying the papers and reports he signed, but he doesn't fight with you, no my sweet girl/boy, you are his, Miguel just applies a chaste kiss to your temple, salty with the sweat of sexual effort and the heat of lust from your body, while he just said everything was going to be okay.

YANDERE DILF LIBRARIAN!MIGUEL O'HARA - Who was worried when you didn't show up after a few days, so he left work early, seeing you at a local fair. He tried to talk to you, but you were disappointed in him, you had found out he was married, and you felt dirty for giving yourself to him. Miguel O'Hara froze immediately, but he soon recovered his posture, telling you in a serious and cold air that she didn't mean anything to him and you did, but you didn't want to listen, just saying how rubbish he was as a human being and leaving the room. running, hiding in the crowd, he didn't go after you, just walking away with a neutral and serious air, thinking about the next step he would take, and he knew exactly what it would be. He spent every day at your house, placing flowers, chocolates, teddy bears, gifts and books on your doorstep, even if you threw them in the trash, he bought more and more, even more expensive and extravagant. Miguel didn't leave you alone, going to your house every day, even trying to knock on the window, but you didn't pay attention to him, but he didn't care, he wasn't going to give up, he stopped the car every day after his shift from work to look at you,or look at the lighting in your house, where you were, what you were doing, and who you were with.

YANDERE DILF LIBRARIAN!MIGUEL O'HARA - That on your last day in the village, he left you a letter, in a red envelope, you didn't want to read it, but your curiosity got the better of you, with you finally reading the content of the man's letter.

My dear, (Y/N) This may sound strange, but I like it when you hide like a scared little bunny, running away from me like that, as if I were a predator? so I am offended my dear. Do you know how far I'm willing to go for you? Do you know exactly what things I can do to try? Do you know the dark thoughts I can carry out with your friends or family? If you gave in. We would be even more than perfect together, we were born to be each other's my love. Just as the sun rises day after day, just as the moon appears in the dead of night. Just as the stars shine in the black sky of the dark and cold night, void of voice. Just as birds spend their lungs in a melodious song, unable to be stopped by foolish men. Just like every natural phenomenon and incapable of being stopped, I will make you mine. just mine. You can try to scream, try to escape or even ignore me, like a mirror covered with a fine linen fabric, I'm still there, watching you, attentive to your smallest details, your flaws, your sins, your darkest, hidden fears. inside your mind, the intimate and core of your most secret suffering... I know everything, I know you more than you know yourself. We are destined to be one, drawn by a happy and unhappy destiny, a piece of the gods perhaps, who are we to question love? In fact, I'll ask you one more time, you love me, right? Just try to say you don't love me... Then I will destroy you... I k-

You didn't even finish reading the letter, hearing heavy footsteps coming from the back door, while you saw a tall figure standing in the dark shadow of the hallway, something dripping on the floor while those familiar and maddened brown eyes stared at you, deep in your soul, Miguel O'Hara.

"-And you know, (Y/N)... you shouldn't leave the door open."

©YANDERESTARANGEL 2023

[fez-pwned]

crybaby (ID below !!)

[ID: A digital drawing of an original design for A. Square from Flatland: A Romance of Many Dimensions, drawn against a blue-black background.

He is a dark teal-green square with a thick cream border, with four stubby legs, a single round eye covered with a pair of single-lens glasses with a red lens and black frame, and has orange, red and cream blobs to show his internal organs, with a simple stomach leading back from his mouth, and a gear around a red circle with an orange brain inside.

There are collections of e lines on one upper side and opposite on the lower side. He is first posed like he is crouching look upward, teary-eyed. Then he is being comfortingly patted from a dark gold arm from above. Then he looks annoyed or tired, with one speech bubble with only a red scribble in it, and then a picture of a cream pyramid, red five-pointed star, and green square all overlapping.

In the bottom corner is the artist's signature of "fez pwned".

End ID.]

[venuslut]

♥︎. — nanami kento x reader

♥︎. — you were always weak to his love, so when you both broke up, you thought the weakness would leave with him. but now he’s back and apparently the weakness never left.

♥︎. includes. — nsfw, hurt/somewhat comfort, poc!reader, toxic relationship, manipulation, babytrapping, oral sex(f. receiving), praise, penetration, unprotected sex.

You were weak and you knew that. By weak, you meant in the emotional and mental department, by no means were you weak in terms of strength. But that didn’t matter much when your ex-boyfriend held your front door open with his hand, stopping you from shutting it in his face. “Y/n, please, I’m here to fix things,” he said, while also holding up a bag of takeout food. You didn’t know what made you fold, the free food in front of you or the handsome blonde man who held the food. It’s best not to think too much about it lest you fall deeper into the rabbit hole of your feelings for Nanami Kento.

It was awkward when he walked into your house, the decor is a perfect reflection of you through the hints of pink, black and white with modern furniture. Even the thin and short white robe, made out of satin, that had fur on the hem of the sleeves and along the bottom, including the edge of the belt that loosely held it together had fur. A perfect contrast to your dark skin and makes you feel sexy whenever you wear it. Nanami went over to the kitchen, setting the bag down on the counter. You stood a little further away, your arms were crossed against your chest and you sported an impatient expression.

He stared at you through the green lens of his glasses while he pulled out the different containers of food. Your robe barely clung onto your body, the thin fabric allowing him to admire the light outline of your curves. It hugged your body in a way that made him miss you even more. Nanami was never the lewd type, he liked sex just as much as the next guy. But there was something about you that made him lose control. Maybe if he put as much love as he did when holding your waist in his hands and listening to your delicious moans in his actual relationship with you, then maybe he wouldn’t be in this predicament right now.

“Are you gonna just stare at me?” You questioned, breaking him out of his daze. “Or are you going to tell me how food is gonna fix things?” you raised an eyebrow in tune with your question. “I’m sorry…” Nanami muttered before painfully removing his gaze from you. Although, you’d be lying if you said you didn’t like the way he stared at you, but you wouldn’t tell him that. Not now. You refuse to give that man any more power over you, you’d be a fool to give him a way to convince you to get back together with him. Not after all the crying you did, not after you yelled at him to leave when he came home drunk for the fifth time that week. You worked too hard to build up the courage to end things, you can’t go back now, no matter what empty promises he was able to say to you.

Nanami sighed, tired of the tense silence and turned to you. “Babe, look—“

“No, you don’t get to call me ‘babe’ anymore, Nanami.” You corrected, cutting him off. “We broke up.” Nanami took a step towards you, and you put your hand up in a stop motion. He ran a hand through his blonde hair, it was in its usual slicked back hairstyle. You always admired how put together he looked despite killing cursed spirits for a living. But his neutral face was plagued with dark circles under his eyes, and his body slouched as if the pain of the breakup was an invisible weight that pushed down on him. A sick feeling of satisfaction that he was suffering buzzed in the back of your mind but you silenced it.

He stepped towards you again and you let him, “I don’t expect you to forgive me,” he said, you raised an eyebrow as if saying ‘really’. “But I can’t live without you, I need you Y/n,” he continued, his voice sounding desperate. It was the first time you heard him plead or beg. “—Okay? And I think we need each other.”

“Now hold on, I don’t need you.” You stepped toward him, the distance between you both slowly shrinking. “In fact, I can’t stand you,” he was silent and you think you finally got the point across that you were tired of his shit. Done with all the arguing, the ignoring, the late nights, everything. He was your weakness but you learned to get stronger, at least you think you did. The way he was looking at you now, it was a look you were all too familiar with.

There was a pause, “Is that why you’re standing in front of me right now?”

You sucked in a breath, suddenly, the tiredness in both of your bones feels as though it’s evaporating or replacing itself with pure adrenaline. The look in his eyes made all your resolve crumble, he could always make you fold without putting in much effort. “Tell me you don’t feel anything and I swear I’ll be out of your life,” he said while taking a step towards you. He was closer now and his full height towers over you and stares you down. You try to talk yourself out of it, of what you’re about to let yourself do but the need looms over your head just as it does over his and Nanami’s eager to make you his again. You know you’re gonna regret this later, but how could you say no to him? You are no liar, not in the face of your handsome and sexy ex who still had you wrapped around his finger. Weak to his existence.

Reluctantly, you turn your rational thoughts off, undoing the belt around your waist and letting the robe fall off your shoulders and to the ground. Weakly glaring up at him, “happy?” You asked. He studied your body, drinking in the provocative underwear you wore, it was convenient you decided to put on your more sexy and matching lingerie. As if you planned for his arrival, and planned that he would talk you out of your robe. But that didn’t matter now, you wouldn’t be wearing them much longer anyways. Nanami grabbed you by your waist, pulling you closer to him, your chest pressed against his. “Not yet,” he murmured before capturing your lips in a heated kiss.

Nanami kisses you with the passion and fervor that has your legs becoming wobbly. Eventually, he wraps his other arm around your back, trapping you in his embrace. Your body trembled while being pressed against his body and moaned as you felt Nanami's lips against yours. For the first time in a while, you felt true passion and desire, along with the intense feeling of being wanted and loved. The feelings you felt were filled with love, sensuality and passion. You had never felt like this in a long time. Not since the beginning of the relationship, when you both were still in the honeymoon phase before it slowly fizzled out.

You responded to his kisses with the same level of ardor. You wrapped your arms around his neck and pushed yourself harder against him, your body craving to feel more and more of him. It felt so right. And you weren’t the only one feeling this way, Nanami couldn't stop kissing you. It was as though he was starving for you, desperate to make up for lost time. Every time you moaned or begged for him to kiss you harder, he would do his best to make you feel every ounce of his passion for you. He couldn't keep his hands off of you either. He started to run his fingers along your back, eventually leading up to your neck.

Your breath hitched with every movement Nanami made and every touch of his lips. You were completely taken by the moment, losing yourself in the warmth created between him. He had made you forget about the pain you felt from the past draining relationship. Every kiss, every touch from Nanami was an experience you were not going to forget. When these kisses ended, you would be a different person, one that wouldn't settle for anything less than love and passion. Even if it didn’t come from Nanami himself. Nanami eventually pulls away from the heated make out session and whispers to you. His voice was laced by lust and desire.

"I want you, Y/n. I'm sorry things got this way." You can feel his warm breath as he starts to kiss your neck and trail his lips to other sensitive spots on your neck and collar bone. When his lips sucked your neck, you began to experience a wave of emotions go through your body. This was too thrilling, too erotic, too magical. It made your body tremble with excitement. Rubbing your thighs together to create some much needed friction to appease the growing ache in your core. Despite the nagging in the back of your head, you didn't want him to stop. You let it happen, in all sincerity. You wanted more. More contact, more passion. You needed more. You felt alive in Nanami's strong grasp, your breaths becoming ragged, his kisses burning your lips. The feeling was simply indescribable.

Nanami moves your bodies to the nearby couch, forcing your body to buckle and sit on it. He doesn’t break away from you though, following close behind. He leans on the back cushion, pushing you against it with the amount of force he’s using, your form drowning under his as he deepens the kiss, devouring everything that you give to him. His knee digging into the seat beneath you, brushing against your clothed cunt, your juices already soaking through the fabric. The contact making your hips buck on his pant’s leg, you felt dizzy with desire as the roll of your hips. His free hand wanders down to trace his fingers along the sides of your body, purposely brushing against your sensitive nipples. You didn’t even notice he had unclipped your bra until it forced you to release your hold around his neck to allow him to take it off.

He placed soft kisses on your breasts, rolling the hard and sensitive nub while licking the other, to ensure neither one was neglected. When he reaches your thigh, he begins to slowly slide his hand back up, his fingers feeling the smooth texture of your inner thigh, and your legs widen to give him more access. Your face becomes flush at how close he was to your sex, internally urging him to finally touch you there. “Fuck…” you cursed between quiet moans. Nanami smiles and kisses your neck, enjoying how your body responds to him. He leans close to your ear, whispering, “I’m gonna need a little more than this to be happy.”

“Asshole,” was all you could muster up, keeping your hostile attitude despite the situation. But he only chuckled at your name calling, continuing to pepper kissing on your neck and collarbone. You looked at Nanami, your eyes wandering up and down as you took in every characteristic and detail of his physique that you could. Your heart was beating so fast that you could feel it everywhere in your body. You could barely resist Nanami's charming and seductive moves, it just felt too good and so... so right. You really are too weak to his charms.

Nanami dropped down to his knees in front of you and tugged at the waistband of your panties. “So pretty, but I’d like them better if they were off you.” And without wasting time, he snatched the expensive pair of underwear off you, stuffing it in his pocket for later use. He relentlessly holds onto your thighs to prevent you from moving, and he buries his face in the fold of your hip. You whine at Nanami's hot mouth being so close to where you want him and struggle against the grasp holding you down, your hips automatically arching up. He kisses at your lower stomach, all of the creases and stretch marks that adorn the skin.

“So pretty and perfect, I was dumb to lose you,” he murmured into your skin. Appreciating every part of your body, a body so divine that he nearly wants to shoot himself for almost losing you. “Don’t worry, darling, it won’t happen again,” he promised and maybe, just maybe, you will forgive him, welcome him back with open arms like before. Sure he missed your lustful stare, but he was in love with your happy smile that greeted him every time he came home from a hard day at work. You were silent, not responding to his promises of change, you didn’t want to hear that right now. If you thought too much about it, then you would overthink yourself into a crying fit. So instead, you chose to focus on the pleasure that coursed through your body when Nanami wraps his mouth around your clit and sucks on it teasingly, letting out a low, gratifying hum. A vibration that made you jolt and grip at his neat hair, messing it up with your hands.

You threw your head back, finally getting some kind of relief to the pain from your cunt. His warm mouth licks farther down between your folds after kissing your clit. Your eyes shut tightly and your legs wriggle in his grip as he expertly curls his tongue inside of you while licking and sucking you sloppily. Nanami releases one of your legs and you feel his fingers prod at your hole. You whine, spreading your legs further and relax into the familiar sensation. A moan escapes your lips at the feeling of his thick fingers inside of you, curling and hitting spots that your own hands couldn’t reach. Coupled with his never ending tongue-fucking, he has your back arching and a string of curses fly from your mouth.

Ever since the first time y’all got intimate, Nanami became obsessed with eating you out. Oftentimes when he came home from a stressful day, he would sit you down on any surface and just spend most of his evening in between your legs. He didn’t care for the way that after a few hours, you would be crying from overstimulation, pushing at his head to get him away, begging to be set free and that you couldn’t take it anymore. All those pleas fell on deaf ears, instead he would promise you that this was the last time, he just needed one more, can’t you be a good girl and cum for him one more time? And being weak to his sweet words of encouragement, all you could do was nod your head and sniffle as he pulled another painful orgasm from you.

He missed this, missed his rightful position between your legs, the familiar warmth your cunt emitted, your delicious moans, the burn from your harsh grip on his hair. He missed it all, and he’d be damned if it’s taken away from him again. His eyes stare up at you, admiring how undone you looked from his tongue and fingers. As he laps at your cunt like he was starving, your entire body is burning as Nanami adds a third finger in tandem with his wet tongue. You have to remind yourself to breathe because the pleasure was too much.

It isn’t long before you’re cumming inside his mouth and around his fingers, your body twitching from the intensity of the orgasm. Nanami kept your leg in place, using his elbow to keep the other one down. He fucked you through your high, thrusting his fingers lazily pumping in and out of you. The feeling of his fingers still hooked deep inside you causes you groan and to finally look down at him, saying, “Kento,” capturing his attention as his dark eyes turn to face you. God, wasn’t he a pretty sight? Kneeling between your legs, his mouth shiny with your slick (he never wasted a single drop). You also missed this. “Fuck me, please.”

If Nanami wasn’t hard before then he’s certainly hard now. The erection is almost too painful to ignore any longer. “Of course,” and you sense a hint of his own desperation. He pulls away after placing a final kiss to the inner corner of your thigh and pulls his fingers out. You whine at the emptiness and you’re filled with the need to be full of him again. He stands up from his kneeling position, “lay down,” he ordered, his voice low and firm, and it had you scurrying to lay your body flat while he quickly unbuttoned his shirt and fully took off his pants, freeing his hard cock. You gulped at the sight, his cock wasn’t long, sporting a good 5in, but he was thick and veiny with a dumbifying curve at the base. The tip was red and throbbing with pent up desire, leaking precum that trickled down his length as it stood high from erection. You wanted—no… needed it inside you. Obviously, Nanami agreed as he looks down at you with a look of pure hunger and you can only imagine the erotic picture you make for him. Completely naked and your chest rising from your heavy breaths while looking up at him with half-lid eyes and a lustful state, legs spread wide to show off your pink and swollen pussy, plus the mess of liquid that’s starting to drip out of you.

He positioned himself kneeling in between your legs, placing your legs on his shoulders. You look down and watch his cock slap against your wet cunt, sending an excited tingle through your body. He coated his cock in your juices, making sure it was nice and wet to enter you. Nanami knew you struggled to take his cock most times, and it was hard to feel bad when you looked so pretty while crying and whimpering, but he had to be kind this time. Placing his hands on your lower back, he pulls you closer and leads the tip of his cock to your entrance, pressing into it.

Once Nanami was fully inside of you, you felt like you were on the verge of passing out, the stretch and feeling of his cock so much further inside of you than any of your dildos, making your legs tremble. The air was knocked out of your lungs at the stretch. Your hand alternated between gripping the couch and holding the back of his thigh for support. Struggling to breathe, gasping slightly while you try and adjust. It didn’t help that the position he had you in forced your legs together and made your cunt more narrow, each thrust, no matter how slow you could feel every vein, every curve, every twitch of Nanami’s cock inside of you. Plus, it’s been months since you last had his cock inside you, since you last experienced the fiery sensation of being filled.

“Breathe,” you heard him. You didn’t even notice that you had stopped breathing, to hung up on how full you are. He caressed the side of your face, brushing strands of hair out of the way and his thumb traced against your bottom lip. “Breathe for me, darling, it’s okay.”

You hate it. You hated how caring he was, his sweet words as he coaxed you to regulate your breathing, how you fully wanted to take him back. But you didn’t want to hurt again, how could you be so sure that you would survive another heartbreak like last time? It was driving you crazy. Maybe… if you force him to stay somehow… force him to become better…

The blonde gave you time to adjust to his length, kneading your breasts and rolling your nipples through his fingers. This, coupled with him kissing the back of your hand, being so patient, and the way he looked at you so lovingly, solidified your final decision. He knew you were ready when you rutted your hips, mewling in need. He gave a slow experimental thrust, before starting at a slow and steady pace, not wanting to hurt you by starting off rough and fast. “Missed this,” he grunted, gripping at your waist, clearly struggling to move slowly. “Missed you…” he added, kissing your ankle.

Fed up with the slow pace, when he pulled out, you tugged his thighs and forcing him to slam hard. This action caused you both to moan loudly and the sound of your sloppy cunt has you clenching around him. He hissed in response. Not being one to ignore your obvious hints, he throws the slow pace out the window and thrusts his hips to bury himself deeper inside you, and begins a fast rhythm. The force of it winds itselfs into your stomach right alongside the coil of sick guilt and perverted pleasure. His dumbifying thrusts and the sound of sex blending it all together into a tight knot. You’re starting to wonder why you ever decided to try and give this up, and you’re grateful for Nanami holding your hips in a tight grip to brace you for his powerful ministrations. You are flushed all the way down your chest, a breathless, gasping moan punched out of you with every solid thrust.

You reach down between your bodies to rub your clit, circling the sensitive bundle of nerves as you try to rock your hips on his cock. Trying to match his relentless pace but ultimately being overpowered. As the intensity built, Nanami's hand glided up your body, finding your neck. He used his grip as leverage, squeezing his hand around your throat. "Pretty fuckin' thing, aren't you?" Nanami grit out. "You gonna come for me?"

You released a shattered cry as he adjusted your oxygen intake, continuing to massaged your bud with two fingers. His cock was completely entrapped by your pussy walls, which squeezed and confined him while enticing him farther into your body. You were unable to verbally respond, to overcome with pleasure to form words. Not that Nanami needed to hear you, he’s fucked you good so many times that he knows the signs of your approaching orgasm. Determined to watch you come undone, Nanami’s thrust intensified, each powerful thrust bringing new waves of pleasure coursing through his body, making him lose himself entirely in this primal act of release. The sound of heavy breathing and grunts echoed throughout the room, creating an erotic symphony that echoed off the walls.

A few hazardous thrusts later, your body was spasming and contracting around Nanami's cock, your orgasm washing over you and you let out a low moan. Nanami groaned in satisfaction as he felt your tightness contract around him, milking every drop of his essence. He fucked you through your orgasm, now solely focusing on reaching his release which wasn’t far off. His hand moving down from your neck to knead your breast, gripping it in an effort to ground himself.

When he feels himself beginning to reach his limit, he tries to pull out, but is surprised when you move your legs from his shoulders and wrap them tightly around his hips. Pushing him in further and making him unable to fully pull out. "Darling, I'm, mgh… close, let me go." He groaned, halfheartedly fighting against your embrace. He wasn’t wearing a condom and couldn’t risk knocking you up, not after all the stuff he put you through and his dangerous line of work.

“You said you won’t leave me,” you breathe out, still keeping your legs locked around his hips. “So you should fuck a baby into me to prove it.” Nanami could have sworn he saw hearts in your eyes, and he didn’t know whether to be scared or turned on. “That’s—“ you cut his protests off with a heated and desperate kiss. Nanami wanted to know when you had gotten so strong, he couldn’t get out of your hold to pull out, but it’s not like he actually tried. He was so enamored with the way your walls clenched around him that maybe having a kid wasn’t so bad. He barely has the time to fully think this through before he’s cumming inside you, filling your womb with his seed. Your incoherent mumbles intensified with every pulse of his member that dragged deliciously against your insides. Panting heavily, he finally pulled out of you, leaving a trail of sweat and fluids on both your bodies.

He leaned forward, placing a gentle kiss on the top of your head, his breathing slowly calming down. He carefully moved your tired body, flipping both of you to where his back was on the couch and you laid on his chest. The room was now quiet, save for your heavy breathes and quiet whimpers.

Nanami Kento never stood a chance at escaping the special brand of manipulation that you possessed. Especially now, eight months later, as Nanami watched the currently pregnant you rub your swollen belly while the shining diamond engagement ring sat pretty on your finger, the jujutsu sorcerer began to suspect that your selfishness was most certainly contagious. Not that either of you complained, because in the end, you were both weak for each other.

[nyracel]

Team Green is in the right💚💚💚 they are right no matter what you say.

How dare you say that Tg supports a r*p!st ???🤬

TG DOESN'T SUPPORT R*P1STS, infact, THEY support Rape survivors.

Like Alicent, who had to commit *duty and sacrifice* unlike Rhaenyra. No, she's right in everything, because she did duty and sacrifice.

TG, also supports another rape survivor, Cristin cole!💚💚💚

Did you know that Rhaenyra r*aped criston? Cristin was innocent the whole time, he did nothing wrong because silver princess seduced him.

I can't wait until TG supports other rape supporters. TG is the protecter of r*pe survivors.

So I can't until they support another r*pe victim, dyana. I can't wait to see thier support for dyana in season 2.

TG says they are r*ape victim protectors, didn't they? So wait till they support dyana.

ngl, this DID get me for a second, because this is how they genuinely sound like. they love to preach modern day morality onto characters like alicent and helaena, but suddenly it’s ’you’re not supposed to view the show/book through a modern day lens’ when it comes to rhaenyra.

‘supporters of rape victims’ except the audience not seeing aegon rape dyana on screen means that it didn’t happen, helaena’s implication of being sexually abused by her brother at the dinner scene is ‘taken out of context’ and she actually LOVES her brother, and he her. the only character that they can for sure agree on being maritally raped and abused is alicent, and how dare rhaenyra also be a victim of the men around her, just not in the same palatable way as the other women in her circle who suffer in silence, making it other women’s problems and not their actual abusers?

“she cuckolded her husband and had obvious bastards! she wanted her brother tortured in defense of her bastards! her bastards aren’t human, and by that count, neither is she! she should be grateful that she and her children were only abused for 10+ years by alicent! she should be grateful that alicent was attempting to have her and her kids disinherited, exiled, or even put to death; she was obviously manipulated by the father she hadn’t seen in well over 10 years, it was all him! and daemon!! the guy who she also didn’t see for 10+ years, and never once mentioned outside of episode nine’s ‘rhaenyra will never bend the knee, nor will daemon.’ she’s been terrified of these almost nonexistent men for years, it’s justifiable why she baited her kids against their sister! making herself and her kids enemies of the *one* person who would have the authority to have them killed when she takes the throne! if rhaenyra had been a good girl and done her duty, maybe she would deserve our sympathy! but she didn’t so she deserves to die a horrible and gruesome fate for fighting back! sunfyre ate!”

their support for dyana has already reared it’s rather ugly head, just look at any pro team black comment sections on tiktok or general posts on twitter 🤷‍♀️ very nice of them to be as supportive of dyana as they are of alicent. i mean, just look at the evidence:

this is totally normal behavior.

[melliae]

Assorted Pharos/Ryoji Thoughts

So, huh, don’t expect something too meaningful or conclusive for this. It’s quite literally just me rambling about the possible connections and influences Pharos and Ryoji have as they come. Quite messy, and it may not make much sense…

Phallus and Birds

As I said in my post about Nyx, Pharos’ japanese name (“ファルロス”) isn’t a word that exists. It’s a combination of “ファルス” (“Phallus”) and “ファロス” (“Pharos”, as in the lighthouse of Alexandria). The two of them mark him as the masculine aspect of the Star Eater (i.e., its psyche), while its body remains as the feminine or maternal one.

“In this sense, the concept of matter is also only one archetypal representation among many others; indeed the concept of matter derives from the archetype of the Great Mother. [...] The archetype of the Father, that is, of the mind, is the polar opposite.” - Psyche and Matter, by Marie-Louise von Franz.

This divide is important to make clear, since it harks back to one of the fundamental inspirations mentioned by the FES Fan Book: Jung’s childhood dream about “Father Phallos”. I’m not going to explain it since it’s somewhat long, but the gist is that it acted as one of the foundations of Jung’s work, as seen with Seven Sermons to the Dead:

“Spirituality conceiveth and embraceth. It is womanlike and therefore we call it mater coelestis, the celestial mother. Sexuality engendereth and createth. It is manlike, and therefore we call it phallos, the earthly father.” - Sermo V.

I’m not going into detail about what Jung exactly meant by “womanlike” or “manlike” beyond pointing out it is more akin to the Yin and Yang division, but through western or hermetic lens.

While the parts of sexuality and creativity are better represented by Ryoji for obvious reasons, the identification between Pharos and Father Phallos is still important because it points to the former’s future as the “son” or “avatar” of “Dea Luna Satanas”.

I put Systema Munditotius here again because it’s a graphical summary of the cosmology and psychological principles presented in Seven Sermons, showing how the human mind is a whole that encompasses all dualities. But instead of focusing on the vertical axis this time, I’m going to explain the horizontal one, where we can see:

The Emptiness (the black circle named “Inane”) at the leftmost extreme, whose dissolving and destructive capacities are manifested in the figure of “the Devil”, represented by the waxing moon—the so-called “Dea Luna Satanas” or “Goddess Moon Satan”.

The Fullness (the white circle named “Plenum”) at the rightmost extreme, with its creative capacities manifesting in the golden circle called “Deus Sol”, the Godly Sun.

Now, despite the presence of another Devil-like figure in the series (Nyarlathotep, with the japanese version of Eternal Punishment directly calling him “the archetype that destroys humans egos”), it’s undeniable the connection between Nyx as the moon and, well, the lunar Satan described in the Sermo IV:

“The dark gods form the earth-world. They are simple and infinitely diminishing and declining. The devil is the earth-world’s lowest lord, the moon-spirit, satellite of the earth, smaller, colder, and more dead than the earth.” 

And that’s where the other half of the left side enters: the Devil-Moon is the root of everything that’s “physical”, the “visible” and “sensual” spirits of earth (the green circle named “Mater Natura”) that manifest through the sexuality of the Phallos, who lies in the “depths of the earth” according to Jung’s dream—in the unconscious, with the Dark Hour being a symbol of it. That’s to say, Father Phallos and thus Pharos are the result of the countless souls that are attached to earth, of people dead in spirit and alive in bodies—of the Lost, and those who transmogrify each night, and those who have lost all hope.

However, unlike Pharos, the Avatar doesn’t show many “sensual” details, despite the entire Fool’s Journey it/he recited being a perfect metaphor of the earthly/gross side of life (i.e., you are born, you grow, you die); on the contrary, it presents a couple of celestial characteristics. The meaning of these properties lie on the other half of the right hemisphere, in the heavenly sphere that the wise kin of the Sun inhabits, communicating with the receptive nature of the human soul (or Celestial Mother) in the form of a white bird—the Holy Spirit.

“The white bird is a half-celestial soul of man. He bideth with the Mother, from time to time descending. The bird hath a nature like unto man, and is effective thought. He is chaste and solitary, a messenger of the Mother. He flieth high above earth. He commandeth singleness. He bringeth knowledge from the distant ones who went before and are perfected. He beareth our word above to the Mother.” - Sermo VI.

Yet, due to Nyx’s body being a shadowy reflection of the Heavenly Mother, it’s to be expected the Bird too becomes twisted, from a pure white dove into a pitch-black crow. There’s no need to go over all the references to black birds during the game, from Tartarus to Nyx Avatar—the messenger or “angel” of Nyx.

So, on one side we have Death as a Shadow, primitive and all-consuming, and on the other we have Ryoji, a conscious being filled to the brim with love and energy. Pharos is, then, the in-between, the liminal state between consciousness and unconsciousness, a baby that’s trying to break free from the grip of the unconscious’ “womb”, yet joins the “divine” with the mortal.

“The "child" is born out of the womb of the unconscious, begotten out of the depths of human nature, or rather out of living Nature herself. It is a personification of vital forces quite outside the limited range of our conscious mind; of ways and possibilities of which our one-sided conscious mind knows nothing; a wholeness which embraces the very depths of Nature.” - Archetypes and the Collective Unconscious.

Be it from Nyx or the protagonist/Makoto himself, Death/Pharos/Ryoji, from the moment his being was fragmented, sought separation and division, to know where his essence began and ended. He was trying to create himself. That’s the most beneficial manifestation of the Phallos: the birth of a “sun” or (primitive) consciousness through the active energy of the unconscious.

“The psychic life-force, the libido, symbolizes itself in the sun or personifies itself in figures of heroes with solar attributes. At the same time it expresses itself through phallic symbols.” - Symbols of Transformation.

An event comparable to the separation of the waters through the spirit (or “dove”) of God himself, or to the eating of the fruit of knowledge upon the serpent’s goading. That’s to say, a manifestation of the beginning of individuation, the development of the—his—Self out of the unconscious’ waters.

Introversion and Extraversion

Makoto is introverted, and Ryoji extraverted.

…

Okay. That isn’t something new, like, at all. But it’s a good start, since I’m not referring to the popular conception that we have of introversion and extraversion, but to the jungian one, explained in Psychological Types:

“The introvert’s attitude is an abstracting one; at bottom, he is always intent on withdrawing libido from the object, as though he had to prevent the object from gaining power over him. The extravert, on the contrary, has a positive relation to the object. He affirms its importance to such an extent that his subjective attitude is constantly related to and oriented by the object.”

I went into a deeper explanation in my post about Philemon’s and Nyarlathotep’s Types, but the above is the main idea: the introverted individual focuses inwards, in the inner realm of the universal “subjective factor” or unconscious, and the extraverted individual focuses their energy into the external world and its objects, relating to the present. As a compensatory method, the differentiated attitude of consciousness will be opposed by the acquisition of the contrary attitude within the unconscious, giving rise to psychic wholeness and certain peculiarities that, for the moment, aren’t important.

Now, with that out of the way, I want to focus on a particular scene described by the book, about an interpretation about Spitteler’s “Prometheus and Epimetheus”, with Jung concluding that the brothers are representations of introversion and extraversion respectively:

“For just as Prometheus makes all his passion, his whole libido flow inwards to the soul, to his innermost depths, dedicating himself entirely to his soul’s service, so God pursues his course round and round the pivot of the world and exhausts himself exactly like Prometheus, who is near to self-extinction. All his libido has gone into the unconscious, where an equivalent must be prepared; for libido is energy, and energy cannot disappear without a trace, but must always produce an equivalent. This equivalent is Pandora and the gift she brings to her father: a precious jewel which she wants to give to mankind to ease their sufferings.”

Prometheus parted ways with the outer world to focus completely on his soul, the realm of the unconscious and his Anima. Understanding that libido can be symbolized by fire, light and heat, then Prometheus’ actions can be interpreted as he trying to “incubate” the treasure that lies deep within, which is compared in other parts of the book with the dharmic tapas or meditation, and the birth of the Buddha, one of the “three jewels”… The underlying meaning of the scene should be obvious at this point.

“The moon with her antithetical nature is, in a sense, a prototype of individuation, a prefiguration of the self: she is the “mother and spouse of the sun, who carries in the wind and the air the spagyric embryo conceived by the sun in her womb and belly.” This image corresponds to the psychologem of the pregnant anima, whose child is the self, or is marked by the attributes of the hero.” - Mysterium Coniunctionis.

A renewal of the “Sun”, who is no other than Pharos/Ryoji himself. Or do you think the sobriquet of Saturn, the Persona unlocked through his Linked Episodes, is for nothing?

Just like the maternal Nyx holds the golden, cosmic egg inside its body, Makoto “incubates” within him the seed of a new life, enveloping it/him just like the ocean does with all sorts of “primitive” life. This is not surprising considering that introversion is the “feminine” (or “ying”) attitude, and that Makoto was, in fact, described as the “mother” of Pharos in the Club Book (Thanks to elle-p for pointing it out!).

But I think there’s something much more interesting in how Makoto “incubated” Ryoji, because just like the moon, as a symbol of the Anima, carries “the child of the sun”, Prometheus makes his libido flow towards his soul… or Anima. That’s to say, both Makoto and Ryoji, at some level, represent each other’s Anima, the sexual counterimage to consciousness that mediates the collective unconscious.

(While technically a non-canon portrayal of things, I still think it fits here :) After all, we know butterflies represent the souls of individuals in the series)

It’s not a perfect correlation naturally; the soul-image is that of the opposite gender of consciousness, to balance the psyche. But the mirror idea is the basis of their relationship, with Ryoji and the protagonist playing each other’s attitudes. The movies are more explicit with this, and there’s a particular quote I really hold close to my heart:

“綾時は理の対極にいるようなキャラクターです。物静かな理と社交的な綾時は"静と動"の関係であり，彼らの対比第3章の物語に欠かせない視点をもたらしています” - Keitaro Motonaga, Persona 3: Falling Down Pamphlet.

“Ryoji is a character that feels like the opposite of Makoto. The quiet Makoto and the sociable Ryoji have a relationship of ‘stillness and motion’, and their contrast brings about an indispensable perspective in the third chapter of this story.”

The connections are clear: Makoto is an introverted sensor (ISxx), and Ryoji is an extroverted intuitive (ENxx). And if we really break down their character, Makoto is an ISFJ (overall ISFx, with the J/P depending on the particular media) and Ryoji an ENFP, which is pretty damn close to a mirror match! You can compare them with Elizabeth, who is likely an ENTP.

Anyway, what’s more interesting in Ryoji’s Type is how it’s described on Psychological Types, under the “Extraverted Intuitive” section:

Going from “object” to “object” and situation to situation, never satisfied with the current circumstances staying the same.

That applies to people too, how they can go from “adventure” to “adventure” in search of romance.

Thanks to the enthusiasm they hold for what is next, they are able to inspire others as well.

Their unconsciousness is mainly governed by an archaic Sensation directed towards introversion, which means their blind spot corresponds to the endosomatic part of the senses, manifesting as strange and absurd sensations (which yes, it can include perceiving the world as dream-like).

And since Ryoji is a feeler as well, all those characteristics acquire a romantic tinge, seeing things by what they emotionally mean instead of what they (sensually) are. Does it sound familiar? Metaphors about “flowing water��� maybe? You can quite literally do one of those school homeworks of joining columns with those points and Ryoji’s characterization.

Another interesting thing to consider is the contrastive relation between Ryoji’s and Makoto’s Types, which returns to my previous point of Ryoji being “incubated” through Makoto’s introversion, because he’s the personification of Makoto’s unconscious functions. The only exception is Ryoji being an extraverted feeler (ExFx) instead of an extraverted thinker (like with Elizabeth again, or Metis), but I still think it fits with Edogawa’s explanations in P4G:

“However, it's not impossible that you might have picked it. The other path was certainly a logical choice. Your Shadow is the path that you didn't take. In other words...It is another you. The Shadow is the ‘you that wasn't picked.’”

Through his fear and trauma, Makoto withheld all the “heat” he could have vested life with inside his soul, warming and breathing life into the “seed” that was sealed within. But whereas the Shadow merely personifies that repressed libido and possibilities, Ryoji became human only through living them—he didn’t only embody Makoto’s repressed yearnings and sufferings, but made them his own. This returns once more to the “jewel” of Pandora that doesn’t solely belong to Prometheus (i.e., Makoto), but to the whole world.

“hell: a name for the *prima materia, the *black colour which appears during the *putrefaction of the matter of the Stone at the *nigredo, the torture through which the ‘body’ of the Stone passes while being dissolved by the secret fire. [...] The nigredo stage is also known as ‘Tartarus’. During the process of the nigredo the colour of the putrefaction is said to be as black as pitch, and the shades of hell appear. A profound blackness reigns both over the matter in the alembic and over the alchemist who may experience the torments of hell while witnessing the shadow or underworld of the psyche.” - A Dictionary of Alchemical Imagery, by Lyndy Abraham.

There’s no need to explain why Tartarus and the Dark Hour are the unconscious, but I’ve to in regards to how they represent Makoto’s “stagnant hell” and their relationship with alchemy.

Fire and Motion

According to the same book I quoted before, “A Dictionary of Alchemical Imagery”, towers in general can be interpreted to be symbols of the alchemical alembic, the main instrument through which the alchemists try to create the philosophers’ stone. However, alchemy is both an outer and inner discipline, so the tower isn’t merely a symbol for the external instrument, but also for the inner one: the human soul, which is put through “hellish” heat to purify it. Thus, towers, hell, and the individual become synonyms for the same alchemical instrument of transformation, fueled by the “secret” or “inner fire” that, in this case, corresponds to Makoto’s libido.

If we follow the normal alchemical process, then Death/Ryoji should be equal to the prima materia or the “first matter” used to create the Stone. But since the Stone is a symbol of the Self, the presence of Ryoji is iffy unless we, instead of thinking of him as the actual goal of alchemy, interpret him as the “secondary” goal, as gold itself, the mineralized/gross essence of the sun.

“But when the alchemists speak of gold they mean more than material gold. In the microcosmic-macrocosmic law of correspondences, gold is the metallic equivalent of the sun, the image of the sun buried in the earth. The sun in turn is the physical equivalent of the eternal spirit which lodges in the heart (the ‘sun’ of the human microcosm).” - A Dictionary of Alchemical Imagery.

This is a topic I already explained previously, since “sun = life = libido = phallus”, corresponding to the masculine/yang/extraverted side of things. As I previously noted on Nyx's post, one can see all of these correspondences with Ryoji’s infamous yellow scarf that represents the golden color—Nyx's core—of the final battle according to the Design Works (again, thanks to elle-p for pointing out that indecipherable text!), decidedly marking him as a product of Makoto’s inner work—as his “mineralized” life-energy.

But to describe Ryoji as purely gold would be incorrect; he’s far from being a pure manifestation of the incorruptible essence of the sun. His true nature is pointed by, again, the final Persona of his Linked Episodes, Saturn, the black sun .

“This power is called ‘sulphur.’ It is a hot, daemonic principle of life, having the closest affinities with the sun in the earth, the “central fire” or ‘ignis gehennalis’ (fire of hell). Hence there is also a Sol niger, a black sun, which coincides with the nigredo and putrefactio, the state of death.” - Mysterium Coniunctionis.

It’s darkness itself, the stagnation of life and its energy that leads to the state we see in the Dark Hour: putrid and rotten to the core, stagnated and filled to the brim with the dead and lost in life. It’s the collective “dark night of the soul”, the nigredo stage of alchemy of all humanity that can only be overcome by setting the world in “fire”, the element of motion and change that makes the clock advance with each full moon and each cleared floor in Tartarus, for better or worse. The transformation of Death into Ryoji is just the repetition of such a process at the individual level.

And if all of that sounds familiar, it should be! That’s the fundamental meaning of both the Fortune and Death arcanas, representing the nature of life as endlessly changing to represent its wholeness. Thus, life stagnating and “becoming a void” is a paradox that must be solved by reigniting its motion/change, lest it collapses into itself.

“This card is attributed to the letter Nun, which means a fish; the symbol of life beneath the waters; life travelling through the waters. [...] In alchemy, this card explains the idea of putrefaction, the technical name given by its adepts to the series of chemical changes which develops the final form of life from the original latent seed in the Orphic egg.” - Book of Thoth, by Aleister Crowley.

The Death arcana is that hellish fire that puts people under the most unbearable pain to put things in the correct path once more. Due to that, it has three “manifestations”: the scorpion that kills itself when finding itself surrounded by “fire”; the serpent that renews itself through its shedding, crawling and thus still attached to earth; and the eagle, the spirit of life that soars the sky, unbounded by and embracing change at the same time. Yet, Death as a Shadow represents the contrary, the stagnated core of the Dark Hour that leads all to its destruction and that must be burned—killed and resurrected

Alchemy is necessarily a violent process, because it requires the constant death and union of the elements so they can be “perfected”. In Death’s case, its alchemical work began from the moment it was separated/“killed” and sealed in Makoto, who is a stand-in for the maternal womb, the alchemical vessel, and the mercurial waters that dissolve the murdered element. Yet, as the alchemist himself, Makoto also pours his own life and heat into the dissolved Shadow to unify and resurrect it in a new, “purer” shape: Pharos, the “creativity” of a nascent sun, the seed of a new life.

(By that matter, Nyx crashing against earth follows a similar pattern: the original being is mutilated and “dissolved” through the alambique—the primordial hadean life. The broken egg or core is an image that has the same meaning as the separation of Death; both fall under the dismemberment motif of alchemy)

But then, how does all of this relate with Saturn? Well, it’s because Saturn has a really long history in hermeticism, alchemy, and astrology: he represents the outermost and heaviest planet of all, embodying the limitations and structure of the universe such as time and death, devouring nature to rebirth it once again. Furthermore, the planet is associated with none other than lead, the heaviest metal that’s commonly used as a metaphor for the first matter, the moribund nature that… well, it should be obvious what one must do.

And funnily enough, just as fire is the element of transformation and renewal, Intuition in general corresponds to the function that oversees the dynamic elements of reality. It perceives the relations and motion between external/internal objects. So in more than one sense, Ryoji is the “inner fire”/“spirit” of Makoto. However, since alchemy deals with opposites and due to his nature as the black sun/saturn, there must be a limiting element in nature to restrain his ever-expanding/intuitive nature…

The Bonds of Death

Why a scarf? Why not another piece of cloth or even jewelry? Well, the image above answers why: a scarf is no different from a noose, one of the most common elements of death deities and grim reaper figures around the world, for what’s death but a hunter of humans? Thus, Ryoji’s scarf is a symbol of how even himself is bound to death, to his underlying nature.

“The difference seems to be due to the repression of real sensations. These make themselves felt when, for instance, the intuitive suddenly finds himself entangled with a highly unsuitable woman—or, in the case of a woman, with an unsuitable man—because these persons have stirred up the archaic sensations.” - Psychological Types.

I can hardly argue in favor of the “unsuitable” part, but there’s no need to really explain the other one, right? “Déjà vu” and all. That’s the “magical” part of Introverted Sensation, which transforms the sensed objects into symbols of the collective psyche through impressing it onto them. And in case of inferior Sensation, as presented above, those filtered sensations become “effective entities” on their own right since the archetypal forces of the unconscious control them, possessing them even. This strengthens the idea of Ryoji’s attraction being rooted not only in the forgotten or unconscious memories of when he was Pharos, existing in a liminal state between consciousness and unconsciousness, but also points to how those memories are themselves mixed with archaic, mythological imagery, and that only has one source.

The protagonist is Ryoji’s “alchemist” and thus an equal to his “mother”, a reflection of Nyx as Death’s “mother”, the “black ocean” from which the transmuted golden egg (or seed) was extracted. This relationship is also pointed out by the fortune teller in club Escapade during January, explaining how “nothingness is the other face of the infinite world/universe”, ultimately hinting at the same thing I explained through the inferior Sensation: the oneness between the figure of Nyx and Makoto (understanding him as a symbol for all humanity).

In particular, I think the image above is perfect for this, since not only Nyx’s core and Makoto are (close to be) superimposed with each other, but also due to the black spiral in the background. The spiral also appears on the Great Seal’s surface, and within this context I have to quote Jung once more:

“We can hardly escape the feeling that the unconscious process moves spiral-wise round a centre, gradually getting closer, while the characteristics of the centre grow more and more distinct. Or perhaps we could put it the other way round and say that the centre—itself virtually unknowable—acts like a magnet on the disparate materials and processes of the unconscious and gradually captures them as in a crystal lattice. For this reason the centre is (in other cases) often pictured as a spider in its web (fig. 108), especially when the conscious attitude is still dominated by fear of unconscious processes.” - Psychology and Alchemy.

The book and even the own paragraph goes on to say that the “centre” is the Self (along with a noteworthy mention of the orphic egg again). But more importantly is the mention of the web here, representing consciousness’ “fear” of joining into the endless spiral that moves around without end, and its connection to the first kanji of Ryoji’s name: “綾”, which means “twill weave” or a “pattern of diagonal stripes”, a textile element that shouldn’t be so different from a web. Needless to say, all of that is connected to the figure of the alchemist/crafter and that of a mother.

The scarf in the first image, due to the fetal position of Ryoji, can be read as an umbilical (normally red) cord connecting him to Makoto/the “mother”, while the second is a little more explicit with the association to the red thread of fate—and what other fate there’s but death? Ryoji’s inherent connection to Death and Nyx is expressed through the “golden cord” that his scarf is, which can also be read as a noose, and as a manifestation of the inferior Sensation, the static element that eternally joins him to his source.

(Scan uploaded by Vesk)

Even the final resolution of Ryoji and Makoto, the white stone and pure dove incarnated, can’t abandon the chain that binds them to death and its hellish fire. However, this time is a willing acceptance of its existence, holding it with one’s hand instead of letting it strangle the individual unconsciously. Even the hands at the waist are holding each other gently, representing the final union of the “lovers” at the top of the alembic—at the top of Tartarus—in the form of a winged spirit.

“The united bodies of sulphur and argent vive, usually symbolized by a pair of lovers, are killed, dissolved and laid in a grave to putrefy during the stage known as the *nigredo. Their souls fly to the top of the alembic while the blackened *hermaphroditic body is sublimed, distilled and purified. When the body is cleansed to perfect whiteness it is then reunited with the soul (or united soul and spirit).” - A Dictionary of Alchemical Imagery.

Death is fate indeed, and in that fire, change and life. It’s the ultimate “fetter” that no one can go against, let alone the immortals that do not fear it.

[noxwithoutstars]

✧｡:*▹ Fictionallion

PT/ Fictionallion /PT end

ID/ A flag with eleven vertical stripes. The stripes decrease in size going in, then the two surrounding the middle grow in size. Colors middle-out are off-white, light orange, dark green, darker teal, grey-blue, and light indigo. There is a circle with a darker purple overlay in the center, as well as a pastel grey-purple allion symbol, a six-petaled flower. /ID end

ID/ A thin pride divider of the Sanguihunt flag. There are eleven rectangles of color. the colors, from left to right, are pale orange, red, dark red, deep magenta, dark purple, dark teal, dark purple, deep magenta, dark red, red, and pale orange. By @/paintedpastel /ID end

✧ Fictionallion is is an allion identity where one's orientation is impacted by fiction, is intertwined with fiction, or can only be fully understood through the lens of fiction, etc.

✧ Requested by @reigenarotaka

ID/ A white DNI with a panel of the manga Oyasumi Punpun with 5 kids doing a joint pose. Words are black on the right side: “DNI: anti- ‘contradictory’ labels, anti-mogai, terf, gatekeeper, anti-decolonization, believes ‘narc abuze’ is real, demonizes ‘scary/evil’ disorders + labels.” /ID end

[entityart]

Right, so the next chapter of Solver King N is taking its time to work its way out of my brain, so in the meantime you guys get a deleted scene of N transforming with some fun word shenanigans.

N’s neck gave a snapping noise as his head rotated to face the group.

“Oh! You’re finally here! Wonderful!”

He tilted his head, a smile on his face.

“A shame, though. I wanted more time alone with Uzi.”

The rest of his body twisted towards them as he stepped off the platform, hands behind his back.

He looked the same as when they first touched down, his black bomber jacket pressed smooth without a tear in sight, his hat covered in small pins, and not a single wound on his body.

“Step aside.”

J’s voice was harsh over the humming of power cores echoing throughout the abandoned chapel.

“Sorry, no can do.”

N walked forward, his smile filled with razor-sharp teeth that reflected J’s face. One arm came out besides him, hand pulled back, prepped to reveal a weapon.

That was all the excuse she needed.

A near-imperceptible nod had Khan flinging an EMP grenade underhand. N startled, his hands catching the explosive moments before blue light washed over him, his visor flickering to nothingness.

“Now!”

They rushed forward, splitting into two groups. One ran towards where Uzi lay, while the other moved to disable N. J’s limbs unfolded, claws lunging forward to decapitate the Solver-infested drone.

Moments before impact,

Everything stopped.

N’s visor showed a hexagonal symbol surrounded by a larger circle, with parts of it cut out.

They SELECTed themselves, before an off-color green EDIT caused his metal casing to wriggle.

Reality resumed its proper course as a wave of force slammed everyone into the surrounding walls and pillars. N’s smile

t                        e w        s           i                  d,                        t                                                 before the metal casing buckled and oil spilled out through a gaping hole in his torso. His arms crumpled inward as his body slouched forward, heavy breathing audible with the acoustics of the chapel. The right half of his visor cracked inward, before a human hand crawled its way out of the injury, now leaking green-yellow pus. Each finger burst open, yellow eyes visibly shining through viscera that dripped onto the floor. A lattice of metal and flesh spread out from the wound on his chest, piercing the ground and lifting him up to lay limp like a rag doll. The scent of blood sent J’s sensors on high alert, but she watched frozen as one leg snapp                  ed in two, the thigh unfurling to let sharp claws atop metal struts slam into the surrounding walls and sever the latticework. Instead of continuing to spread down, it folded back in on itsel                                                                         f, before beginning to bloat as dripping flesh filled the sac. N’s head jerked, before falling forward off his body as his neck lengthened, stopping to sway right above the floor. Laughter came from several spots along his body, making its way out his mouth, chest, and leg, layering over itself in triplicate.

The other arm flickered before splitting once, twice, three times at the elbow, each hand pulling its way out tipped with something different – a chainsaw, a cutter, and a bleeding heart. As the blood touched the stone ground, it spread like a river towards where everyone lay. The chainsaw revved, before N jerked it towards the mass that surrounded his chest. It burst, squelching as it unfolded into writhing tendrils that vio      tly     s                              len       la hed out, with a larger pair covered with feelers reaching out to wrap around Uzi.

[wispstalk]

bruma vignettes

Bruma in spring: The roads, clear of snow for the first time in months, offer no easy passing. The forested slopes soak up meltwater; the roads turn to mush, rutted deep with wagon-tracks, the movement of herds to fresh pastures where the grass bursts from the sleeping soil.

The Hero of Kvatch and his apprentice go out ranging. Looking for sinister signs among this flurry of movement: reddening skies, whiffs of sulfur. Combing the wilderness for arches of black stone, witnessed only by themselves and the hawks. One erupts from the spongy ground of a pristine glade, turning it hard and cracked and burnt. Sparrows and stags and pine martens flee. The two hunters enter.

After the gate falls, the Hero of Kvatch stalks back to the trail. No one is faster than his apprentice, but his long legs outpace her. Absorbed in his brooding, he vanishes around the hairpin turns that snap back and forth across the mountain.

She finds him waiting for her on a rocky ledge that punches a gap in the masses of trees. A nice view of the valley below. He’s chewing something. Holds out his hand: a spruce tip, such a bright green it seems to glow with reckless optimism.

For fending off scurvy and spring sicknesses, he tells her. That is the lens through which he sees the world: its ailments. He sets about filling his hip pouch with the buds, claims it makes a pleasant tea. Raw and fresh, the initial taste is bitter, the texture like soft caterpillar legs dancing over her tongue. She almost spits it out. Endures. Savors the reward of subtle earth and spice that lingers in her mouth, all the way to the temple.

—

Bruma in summer: Sweltering days giving way to cool nights. No one quite knows how to dress themselves. Pile on layers, peel them off, odd assemblies of thick woolen shawls and trousers hacked off at the knee. Sticky, fragrant shade beneath the bowed branches of the laurels; sere fields and pastures where they have been cleared away. The sun makes lazy exits and the markets become livelier in the evenings once the breeze kicks up. Music and chatter drifting from tavern doors, flung open wide.

—

Bruma in autumn: A storm surges up from the balmy Abecean. The Jeralls turn their backs and let it blow itself out. Pounding rain recruits cold and wind on its way north, turns to hail: the lash of Kynareth or a tribute to the stone.

Down in the foothills, the trees throw out one last defiant burst of color. Clad like festival dancers, they form a circle around the valley with all its smoking chimneys, a sort of reverse bonfire. They shed their red and gold finery in tantalizing pieces. Naked grey branches, stoic in the wake of their revels, keep weary watch over the houses nestled in the cradle of the mountains.

Peer through the windows of those houses, glowing gold with lantern-light. See that there are harvests on the tables within, despite everything.

—

Bruma in winter: There is a path, hidden by hemlock branches and the bare skeletons of wormwood, that carves its way into the sky. Now it is so clogged with snow that those who walk it must wear bearpaws of bent willow and tie trailing sprays of pine to their packs to mask their footsteps.

When the snow-haze lifts, the temple in the sky can almost be seen. A determined eye might catch a rocky ledge where the shapes are a bit too regular. The temple meets that gaze with indifference: any challenger must first survive the climb.

Within Cloud Ruler, there is safety and boredom. The Blades spread crushed rock on the icy battlements, in part to make their patrols less perilous, and in part for something to do. The heir to the throne is a fixture in the great hall. His eyes grow shadowy as the long nights, his hands stain with ink, the cedar smoke of the hearth sinks into his hair and the roughness of his rare-used voice.

He realizes that it has been days, or weeks, or— some time since he has been out to greet the sun. Its wan light feels like a cruel mirror. But he goes around gathering up armor against the biting wind: a shirt that smells of a friend, smoke and sweat and horse and iron. A bearskin coat over that, and an old worn blanket of checked wool.

His slippered feet are unsteady on the hard-packed ice despite the gravel. He makes it to the battlements, stares down at the expanse of grey and white that yawns beneath him. Snaps an icicle the length of his arm off the ledge of the wall. Holds it up, considers the way it gathers up enough wan light to glitter.

He hucks it, like a spear, at a crooked spruce that clings to the downslope. The tree shudders and drops its burden of snow. The shatter and soft thump are amplified, bouncing off rock faces, and a patch of snow shifts and slides until it comes to rest against a boulder.

He lets out a soft curse and a laugh. Careless. Petulant. All the snow that mantles these moutains could be brought down, perhaps by a shout of anguish or frustration or sheer bafflement. The heir to the empire has had enough of inviting catastrophe. He knows how to take pleasure in a little peace and quiet.

White peaks scrape holes in a matching sky and vanish into them. These austere mountains have borne the cold for countless turns of the season, before there were people to do any counting. They will weather more yet.

[huffle-dork]

Swap Beyond the Crystalverse Chapter 13: Outer Space AU

Co-written with @crystalninjaphoenix Read Swapboys | Read Crystal’s AUs

Other Multiverse Stories: SITCV | SATCV | GITHV

SBTCV Masterpost

Alt lands in a... very unusual room. Its walls and floor are made of metal, with rivets along the edges close to where they meet. But the room is not small, nor is it dark. There are bright, square lights in the ceiling that light up the area. The room is also, fortunately, not some sort of science lab. It looks more... casual? Strangely? There's a desk in the corner, rounded and sleek, with big, smooth monitors on top. One of the monitors is on, showing a video that seems to be the same thirty-second clip of someone talking to the camera looping over and over. There are a couple chairs in the opposite corner, made of a strange rounded shape. There's also a white, circular table full of very strange mechanical and technological parts that even Alt can't identify... though he thinks he sees a camera lens in there. Or maybe a projector? There's another screen mounted into a wall, showing an image of a snowy mountain landscape at sunset. Like a fake window of some kind. There are no real windows, but there is a circular... is that a door?

Alt blinks and looks around the area with wide eyes. “…what a wild juxtaposition to the last one.” He mutters. But, he also looks fascinated.

"Welcome to UF-0908355OS," Anti says, sounding... excited. "I was looking forward to this one."

Alt glitches over to look at the table full of stuff and hums. He looks surprised at Anti’s tone and brings out his phone to raise an eyebrow at him. “You sound… really excited dude- what’s up with this world?”

"It's the technology, Alt," Anti says, grinning. "You can see it just looking around, can't you?!"

The door slides open then, going up into the ceiling. "--ready soon," a voice is saying from out of sight. And something flies into the room. A--a Sam! Clearly a Sam, what else could that big round eye be? This Sam is a bit bigger than a basketball, and they're not flying on their own. Instead, they're resting in some sort of floating device, a white bowl-shaped object with glowing blue concentric circles on the bottom. There's also what looks to be a keypad on the floating device. The Sam's big eye immediately locks onto Alt. Their tail raises up and types on the keypad. "Intruder!" says a computerized voice.

Alt blinks in surprise, “S-Sam?!” He says- before it types on Intruder. He holds up his hands, shaking them as he tries to say, “w-wait no I’m-!”

"Intruder?!" the voice from outside calls, and a man rushes into the room as well. A very... strange-looking man. He's wearing black pants and a cropped black T-shirt, which shows off the fact that his body is mostly metal. The only part that seems organic is the head...though there's still something a bit robotic about that, as well. Something about the dark green hair and the black-sclera'd green eyes ruins the illusion. But... putting all that aside, the man's face... it's Alt. Or, well, it's closer to the Anti in his phone, but same thing, right?

Alt’s eyes widen further as he stares dumb founded at the …man? That just walked in. “…w-what the hell…??” He breathes, looking unnerved by the sight of the robotic man.

“How did you getten here?!” Sam types out. “We’re well hiding!”

The robotic man shakes his head. “Tere’s no good splanation. You know wat we hafto do.”

“Anti!” Sam spins around to look at him. “Not egahn!”

…is something wrong with these two? The way they’re talking is… off.

“An tat dozen splain HOW or WIE tey gotten!” Sam continues.

The robotic man tilts his head. The green irises in his eyes turn blue and start circling like a loading screen. “Aksessen Camra Systm…” he says, voice slightly more robotic. The loading circle stops, and his blank expression shifts to one of confusion. “Tey dust… eppeer’d. …Strenge.”

Alt looks freaked out as he staggers back. “W-Why are you guys talking like that?? The fuck is going on?!”

Now the two of them look at him. The robotic man still has that confused expression, and Sam narrows their eye—oh, this Sam has eyelids. Weird.

The loading circle comes back into the man’s eyes. “Lungwaj dialec unnawn,” he says “Serten base… dialec vound.” Then the circle disappears. “The real question is why you are speaking in a form of English that hasn’t been used in a couple hundred years,” the man says. “And how you got in here. You simply appeared on the camera system. What are you doing here?”

“C-Couple hundred years?!” Alt stammers in confusion. “J-Jesus Christ o-okay uh… well if this place is this advanced… I’m Alt and I’m… you- from a parallel universe.” He says slowly, looking at the robotic man.

And now the robotic man looks confused again. It’s the exact same expression, like he only has one face to make for this emotion.

Sam fiddles with the touchscreen of their keypad. “They do look like you a bit, Anti.” Adjusting the language settings, probably.

“Shut up,” Anti says.

Sam’s eyelid curves, like the way eyes move when someone is laughing.

“The multiverse theory does not have concrete proof,” Anti continues. “This could be an elaborate trick.”

“So you think they time traveled?”

“That is also unlikely. It’s most likely that this is because of IRIS.” Anti’s expression shifts to something angry. “Show us what’s in your bag.”

Alt glitches back a bit, curling in on himself as he looks at the robotic Anti with fear. “I promise- we have nothing to do with IRIS- but uh… here, my phone is probably proof enough.” He says, holding it out for Anti to look at.

Anti takes it immediately, holding it delicately as he turns it over, green irises locked onto it. Sam flies over to get a closer look.

“A design like this has not been used in…” Anti trails off. “One moment.” He turns to the side and walks over to the desk, placing the phone on a black square attached to its surface. “Not even compatible with the lescharge. Interesting. But it seems to be good as new, with my limited scanning abilities. Sam? Should we take it down to the scan?”

“I don’t think that’s necessary, if they offered it up,” Sam says.

“It could be refurbished.”

“Uh please don’t take my phone?? I really need it-“ Alt says. He takes his bag off his shoulders and opens it up, “Here you need more proof?” He starts pulling stuff out- leaving the pirate clothes but pulling out his iPad, his spellbooks, a leftover granola bar, and a med kit. “Is this enough?” He asks.

Sam flies over and stares staring at all the stuff, their pupil dilated wide. Anti wanders over afterwards, his neutral expression on his face again.

“Anti, look!” Sam jabs their tail at the granola bar. “Plastic wrap!”

“That is… unusual,” Anti says slowly.

“…you guys don’t have… plastic anymore?” Alt asks, confused. “…guess that’s probably you know… better for the environment…”

“We have bioplast, and big plastic parts for industrial work, but this is true plastic wrap," Sam says, their tail flying as they type. They seem really excited.

Anti folds his arms. “So… you are a time traveler, a multiverse traveler, or got this from some company breaking several galactic laws.”

“Don’t be so stubborn, Anti!” Sam says, narrowing their eye at him. “That, along with everything else here? Look, this old tablet looks like it has been used a lot. It’s case is worn. They wouldn’t go that far to trick us.”

“I… suppose…” Anti says reluctantly.

“Believe me- I know how insane it is to say I’m a multiverse traveller,” Alt mutters, putting his stuff back in his bag, “so I only say it when there’s no other explanation.” He then looks around the room again and hums, “Um… so- what year is it… exactly? And where are we?”

“It is 4317 by Standard Galactic Time,” Anti says, becoming more robotic again for a second. “But by Terra years, it is currently 2355. We are on the IRIS Zypso Station, though we are currently disconnected from the power and WiFi grid in a self-sustaining secure location.”

Alt blinks comically, processing all that information. “…what the fucking hell- uh- okay… 335 years in the future that’s not terrifying at all-“ he mutters to himself. Then he straightens and addresses Anti again, “Okay well uh- I’m here with my brother and… we’re looking for something important. Our multiverse device broke and one of the pieces fell here…” as he says this he checks the tracker.

The tracker tells him that the TRVLR piece is in the IRIS building in the center of the station.

Anti tilts his head. “Fascinating. I wish your brother luck, then.”

Alt freezes, “uh…. What? Why just… my brother? I-I need to go find him!”

“We cannot let IRIS know where are location is,” Anti says calmly. “That would be disastrous. So I’m afraid that now that you know our location, you cannot leave.”

“For Myr’s sake, Anti!” Sam says. “You make it sound like we’re going to kill him!”

“We are not,” Anti hurriedly adds. “But you cannot leave.”

“What?!” Alt shouts, glitching back. “Y-You can’t keep me here! I need to find Chase! I need to get this piece and go home!”

“He can find the piece and then find you,” Anti says calmly.

Sam rolls their one big eye. “You can’t do this again, Anti.”

“I can do almost anything I want,” Anti says, expression switching to a smile for a second before returning to neutral. “This bunker is self-sustaining. There is only one exit and I am locking it right now. I am in control of all systems.”

“How is he supposed to be able to find me if this place is hidden?!” Alt yells, “If this is 300 years in the future our phones won’t even work!”

As Anti says he’s locking the system Alt’s stomach drops and he quickly tries to glitch out of the room and hurriedly tries to find the exit.

Alt glitches into a corridor, metal with those squares of light in the ceiling just like the room before. He’s in a + shaped intersection, and each corridor ends in another one of those circular sliding doors. There’s no sign of which door is the exit.

Alt panics hurtling towards the first door and trying to pull it open-

There is no door handle to pull, but as he approaches it opens on its own and he stumbles into a very different sort of room. It has the same metal walls and ceiling lights, but these walls have been colored blue, with some faux-wood paneling on the lower half, and the false window on the opposite wall shows a green forest at sunset. One wall has a door that’s half/slid open to show a small room beyond—what is that, a futuristic bathroom? This room itself has a desk in the corner made of copper and dark wood. There’s a circular rug in the center, along with a table and two chairs done in the same wood and copper style. Random bits of metal are piled on shelves in the corners, mostly coppery or golden in color. There’s a man sitting at the desk, who looks up in surprise. He’s wearing a brown and blue outfit with some intricate geometric designs at the edges, done in gold. One of his blue eyes is hidden behind a monocle stylized to look like a copper gear. He also has a thick mustache.

Alt blinks in confusion and yelps as he tumbles through the door. He flushes as he sees the man and stammers out, “S-Sorry!” Before he glitches away to try another door.

Anti is in the corridor now. He’s leaning against the wall silently, his neutral expression still on his face. He doesn’t make any move to stop Alt as he glitches into the intersection.

Alt pants and glares at his robot copy and yells out, “where’s the fucking exit?! You can’t keep me prisoner here!!”

“I can.” Anti shrugs.

The door Alt just tried slides open again and the man steps out, looking back and forth between Anti and Alt in confusion. He raises his arm, and it’s revealed there’s a brace on his wrist, similar to that hero JJ’s from one of those first worlds. It serves a similar function too, as he types on a golden keyboard and a voice comes out of it. “Wat’s goen on? All tis nowz abow?”

“Set your device to the Marvelan dialect, please, JJ,” Anti says.

The man, JJ, laughs a little and looks around like he’s expecting someone to say this is a prank.

Alt briefly looks at JJ through his anger- but when he laughs Alt snaps. His magic crackles around him like exposed wires as he grabs robot Anti by the shirt and pulls him down to his level- or tries to at least. “Listen here, you piece of shit! I will not be trapped in some weird future cage by some freak robotic version of myself! Let me out!”

Anti's face shifts to surprise--and for a moment, something like fear. But then it returns to neutral. "I cannot do that," he says. "And what will you do to try and make me? Shut me down? Fry my circuits? I don't feel pain, you cannot threaten me with that. And if you shut me down, Sam will boot me back up. And neither Sam nor JJ have access to the bunker systems. If I am gone, they cannot help you open the exit."

JJ backs away, looking very overwhelmed by this situation, and a little afraid.

"Even if you can force your way out, you're not much better out there," Anti continues. "With something like that energy of yours, IRIS will not hesitate to take you. They will be very curious about it, I'm sure. And there are very, very few spaces on their station where they cannot see what's happening. They will find you. Don't... put yourself at risk like that."

Energy crackles more and more around Alt as he snarls, “I don’t care! I-I won’t be a fucking captive here! You can’t just l-lock people up! I-I’ll…!” Underneath all this anger is very clearly fear as he can barely contain the panic gripping at his heart. “I-I need to go to IRIS anyways! That’s where the piece is!! So just stop being a stubborn ass and let me out!”

"IRIS has your piece?" Anti repeats. "And--you said it was for a multiverse travel device?" The loading circles are back for a couple seconds. "We cannot let that happen. Sam!"

Sam flies out into the corridor from the first room. "You know, Anti, I was thinking, and I can't let this happen twice--"

"It's not happening twice," Anti interrupts. "We are going to plan a way to get this device piece back from IRIS."

"IRIS has it?!" Sam's eye widens in alarm.

"Yes. If Alt is not lying." Anti looks back at Alt. "We are going to help you get that back. We are. But I am very serious. You cannot simply walk out into the station. So... if you will only stay here until we are ready... I will... reveal the exit."

Alt furrows his eyebrows in confusion and lets Anti go, glitching back and looking at him skeptically. “Happen… twice? W-What are you talking about? You’re gonna help me just like that?”

"Sam was referring to--" Anti states.

"I was referring to f u c k i n g kidnapping people!" Sam interrupts. "Because this would be the second f u c k i n g time!"

JJ looks at Alt and gives a little wave, still looking a bit nervous.

"You are not helping us look less threatening," Anti says.

"You're not helping yourself look less threatening," Sam rebuts. They fly over to Alt. "But yes, we will help. Or at least I will, if you don't trust Anti. I don't want to think of what IRIS would do with tech to travel the multiverse."

Alt’s eyes widen and he looks back at Jj. He points wildly at him, “You’re keeping him trapped here too?! What the fuck!”

"That sounds worse than it is--" Anti says.

"There's no way to make it sound GOOD," Sam says.

JJ fiddles with a dial on his brace and then types something out. "Actually I can leave whenever I want."

Anti turns to look at him, confusion on his face. "What?"

"I made a door hacker the second week after you gave me parts to mess with," JJ says.

Anti's expression shifts to fear.

Alt blinks back at JJ with raised eyebrows. He then grins and looks back at Anti, crossing his arms, “Huh- not as secure as you thought, is it?”

"How--h-h-how--" Anti's stutter is more like a glitch in his voice. He pauses to get it under control. "How did I not notcie?"

"No one here is familiar with Olinion technology," JJ says.

"Well it's very ineffic--" Sam says.

"It's artistic," JJ insists, interrupting Sam's typing with his own.

"You--you didn't l-leave, though," Anti stutters again. "Why--why didn't you leave?"

JJ hesitates. "I... thought this wasn't so bad." He looks at Alt. "Also... who are you and why are you making us talk like we're at a Digitalrise Faire?"

Alt gives JJ a look at him saying it wasn’t so bad here. Then he blinks comically and points at himself. “Wha?? Digitalrise what’s it??” He coughs then gestures at himself. “I’m Alt- and I’m… from the past. Kinda. I’m from parallel universe that’s in the past- about 335 years or so… and I’m supposed to be this bitch.” He gestures his thumb back at Anti.

JJ's eyes go wide. He looks back and forth between Alt and Anti.

"It is, as far as we have determined, true," Anti says.

With that, JJ then starts to grin. "Oh! So in that case--you're probably from the Digitalrise! That era of time on Terra when computers were made and started appearing everywhere and doing everything--"

"Nerd." Sam presses a single button to say that.

"You can't tell me that optels don't also have events to celebrate the past!" JJ says.

"We look towards the future, not the past. And when we do have events, we don't call them 'faires'."

"The word actually comes from the historical event called Renaissance Faires--"

"Nerd."

Alt holds his head a bit, all of this overwhelming him a bit. “Ugh… thinking about the present becoming an historical event is making my head spin…”

"We won't talk about it, then," JJ says, physically backing away.

"But returning to the topic of before," Anti says. "Alt, if you would... please... agree not to go out into the rest of the station until we have a plan, I will show you the exit."

Alt shakes his head and looks back at Anti. He frowns and glares at Anti before eventually sighing as he crosses his arms. “…fine. I guess I can do that.”

Anti nods. And immediately, one of the glowing squares in the ceiling turns off, revealing that there is a seam around the edge of it. Anti points up towards it.

"Trapdoor entrance," Sam comments.

Alt blinks and looks up in confusion. “Uh… what? Are we- going in there??”

"No, not right now," Anti says. "Unless you are going to break your word. Something I am incapable of doing."

"That is the way out," Sam explains.

“Oooh. Okay. Good to know,” Alt mutters, narrowing his eyes at the trapdoor. Then he looks around, “…I hope Chase is okay…”

JJ blinks. "Chase? Do you know him?"

"His brother is also here," Anti explains. "I assume that is his name."

"Not a very common one. I had a customer named that."

“That’s not a common name anymore?” Alt asks JJ, “But yeah… that’s my brother, Chase Brody… he came to this universe with me.”

JJ blinks. "That's the name of my customer, too."

"If you are, supposedly, an organic version of me, then perhaps your brother is another version of that customer of yours," Anti says. "Would that mean your brother is near him, perhaps?"

“It’s a possibility…” Alt mutters, “We usually appear around the same people when we pop up in these universes…” he looks back at JJ, “…what do you sell?”

JJ perks up. "All sorts of Olinion devices! I make them myself! Our technology is very unique, you know! But they function the same as anything else. Here, my brace and scanner are good examples." He reaches up and takes off his monocle, tilting it back and forth. The glass seems oddly shimmery.

Alt blinks more in confusion, “What’s Olinion?” He asks. Then he glitches a bit closer and tilts his head at JJ curiously.

JJ hands the monocle to Alt to examine. Oh, the glass is shimmery because it doubles as a screen. The one side of it that's meant to go into the eye has tiny, tiny text on it, appearing and disappearing. "It's my home planet," JJ says casually.

“Oh! You’re from… a different planet-“ Alt says as he looks at the monocle in awe. “That’s… that’s so cool! So you sell tech that’s based from there? Is that what your planet is known for? What else can you make??” His eyes are sparkling.

JJ nods, just as excited. "Yes, Olinion is very unique in its technology! We can do just about anything, but it will be very different from everywhere else. Regular things like cameras and speakers and lights of course, but we're really good at modes of transportation in particular--"

Suddenly, there's a chiming noise from the other room. Everyone looks towards it. "Alt, is that your phone?" Sam asks.

Alt listen intently to JJ then blinks in confusion as he looks back. “Uh… yeah I think?” He glitches back into the other room to look for it.

The phone is on the desk where Anti left it after he took it from Alt. It looks like there's an alarm going off. But not for long, as Anti--the eye-patch Anti--appears on the screen and silences it. "Sorry bout that, had to get your attention," he says. "I feel slightly offended that you forgot about me. But not really. I heard everything. So... you're okay with staying here?"

“I’m sorry- I… I just panicked.” Alt says quietly, picking back up the phone. He then nods. “I think I have to be… cuz I’m like… seriously out of my depths here… I just hope Chase hadn’t gotten into worse trouble…”

"Hmm..." Anti frowns. "Well, if you think you'll be fine on your own, I can go find him. This bunker seems to have its own self-contained power system, so I can't connect to the grid, but I should be able to manifest outside it anyway. But I'll stay here if you'd prefer that."

Alt deflates, “…if you could, I’d appreciate that… it seems like I’m pretty safe here… and you’ll know where to find me if anything happens. I-I just… if IRIS is around… I don’t want Chase to get hurt.”

Anti nods. "I'll keep an eye on your phone. If you need me, send a text to Chase's phone. It probably won't go through but I'll notice it." He pauses. "Um... be safe, okay?"

Alt’s face softens and he smiles, “Thanks, Anti… I’ll be okay. You be safe too.”

Anti nods, giving a small smile back. "I will. See you soon." And then Alt's phone screen becomes static, and when it's clear, Anti is gone.

There's the sound of the room's door sliding open, a slight swshh. JJ appears. "Is everything okay in here?"

Alt looks back at JJ and smiles, “yeah sorry- looks like I left my alarm on… I tried to call Chase but- didn’t go through so…” He pockets his phone and heads back out to the others.

JJ nods. "That makes sense. There's no WiFi or cell down here." He pauses. "Do you... want to keep talking about Olinion tech? I don't often get the opportunity."

“Yeah I think I’d really like that,,” Alt smiles shyly. “And uh… if you want to know… anything about my time- I could try to tell you. But I’m really interested in your tech!”

JJ lights up. "Alright! Let's go sit down in my room to talk. That will be more comfortable than here." He turns and leads Alt away.

-----------

Bro falls with a jolt, and lands in a very different environment than the pirate ship he was just on. He lands on a soft mound of grass. Around him are trees and bushes and vines, all of which look... a bit strange. Some of the vines are red, and the tree's branches are strangely curvy and regular. This is some sort of indoor park, as it's surrounded by a glass-and metal railing. A glass bubble surrounds the park, a window showing the night sky outside... filled with more stars than Bro had ever seen before, in any other universe.

Bro groans and rubs his head, peeking his eye open to look around. Then he gasps as he looks up, seeing all the multitude of stars, awe-struck. “Woahhhh!” He laughs breathlessly.

There are voices coming from behind him. "Luk, bruh, Im tellen you, it wuhs hillary! You had t'be tere, I gess."

"I gess I did. Chase, I'll mire yor hard wark, but Im dust not inresed in streams."

"But you'd watch fur meeee, rye?"

A laugh. "Maibeh I'll stoby okashonly."

...what the hell? Who talks like that?

Bro blinks as he hears his name and tunes into the conversation. Then he furrows his eyebrows and digs at his ear- did he get sea water in it or something??

Behind him, there's the glimpse of metal through the plants--no doubt the inside of whatever place this park is in. Walking down a path, from left to right, are two people. The one closer to him is partially hiding the other, but he can see a white coat and some reddish brown hair. The other person--the one blocking his view of the other--is very familiar to him. That's his face again. Though the clothes are a bit weird... some alternative fashion that's mostly black with some splashes of neon bright color. But the cap is still in place.

"I cehd make you a mod, if you wunded, I tink you'd be ged ad tat," the version of him says.

"Chase, dyou reelay tink I haf time teh mod yor streams?" the other person replies.

Chase shrugs. "You cehd make time."

"No, I reelay can't."

Bro freezes as he sees his face on the stranger and he looks around more in confusion. “…the fuck is happening right now? Am I losing my mind??” He whispers.

To make things even more confusing, something comes into sight through the bubble window. Slowly rising up from the bottom. A blue, white, and green sphere... a globe coming into sight. No, it's not the thing that's moving. Wherever Bro is standing right now--that has to be moving, tilting slightly downwards. Because that's... that's a planet.

That's a whole ass planet.

Bro’s eye widen and he shouts in surprise, “what the fuck?!”

That immediately draws the attention of his other version and the other person with him. "Ya, bruh!" Chase says, raising a hand and waving at him. "Nice cohsyum! Is tere a Digi Faire hapnen?"

The other person leans around the side of Chase. He... looks familiar. But there's something off. His hair is a reddish brown, but his skin is pale, no peach undertones at all. Behind his metal-frame glasses, there are some red-pink things on his forehead and cheeks. Decoration or makeup of some kind? "Maibeh a peeryot drameh?"

"In eny cehs, yor reelay comittad!" Chase laughs.

Bro turns around and looks freaked. “W-Why are you guys talking like that?! W-Where are we?? What’s going on??” He’s trying to hide his panic but they’re IN FUCKING SPACE???

The two of them stare at him, slowly becoming confused. "You okay, bruh?" Chase asks slowly.

"I'm a dahkter, if you need medcahl help," the other person says. "Or we cehd kull somwan?"

“I’m not okay because you two are talking WEIRD!!” Bro says, pointing almost accusingly at the two of them. “Where the fuck am I?! Why are we just floating in FUCKING SPACE?!”

"We're tawken weered?" Chase repeats, confused. "Yor tawken weered! Like Schneep saed! You sawnd like a peeryot drameh."

Bro blinks rapidly, “Yor tawken weereddd- that’s how you sound!!”

"Ah!" The other one--clearly this is Schneep--holds up one hand. He reaches into a pocket of his coat and takes something out, walking over to Bro. He holds out a small, crescent-shaped device made of white metal with some padding on the inside. "Pud tat here." He taps his ear. "Ten press tis buden." He indicates a small button at the bottom of the crescent. "Myite take amenut teh wark."

Bro looks at Schneep and knits his eyebrows in confusion and takes the device. “Ooookayyy? What is this? A headset??” He follows his instructions and places the device on his ear and presses the button.

A little microphone shoots out of the crescent, and a bit of the crescent lowers close to his ear.

"Chase, tawk a liddol," Schneep says.

Chase blinks. "Tawk abow wat?"

"Anytin."

"Uh... well tat's a lodda presher. I gess I can talk about my channel or something? Or would that self-promotion be too much?"

Schneep chuckles. "No, it should be fine." Suddenly, their voices seem to sort out.

Bro blinks even more and then points at the two of them again, “Oh! Now you sound normal! What the fuck kinda language was that?? Like I could kinda understand you but also it was like you were talking with marbles in your mouth!”

"Now we sound normal?! Now you sound normal!" Chase shouts. "Bitch???"

"Chase, please, stop being so stubborn," Schneep says.

Chase sighs. "Sorry. I don't know what your deal is, bruh. Speaking fucking... Marvelan out here. Good call on the translator, Schneep, but why did you just have one?"

"I always carry one, just in case there is a language barrier with a patient," Schneep says, then turns back to Bro. "I am guessing you are from some farther Terran colony?"

“You just used so many big words I do not know,” Bro says bluntly as he crosses his arms, “I’m from Earth - you know? The planet where humans like you all come from?”

Chase blinks. Then he laughs. "Bruh, no way. I've never met anyone from Terra who talks like you do unless they're at a Digi Faire or in some historical holo. Also... humans like you all?" He points at Schneep. ...that's not makeup on his face. Those are scales, standing out against the unnatural white of his skin. There's more on the back of his hands, too, which also have curved nails. The overall effect is somewhat reptilian... but he has hair, and reptiles don't have hair. So... what the fuck?

"Have you never met a kritzein before?" Schneep asks. "Did you think I was in a costume?"

Bro staggers back with wide eyes, “…what the fuck?! You’re - you’re a huh???” He pales a lot and starts to laugh a bit hysterically, gripping at his hair. “What’s happening?? Digi fair?? Historical holo?? Lizard- person??!! I’m losing my mind! Too many multiverses have scrambled my brain!! That must be what’s happening!!” He laughs a bit more but he looks very very freaked out.

Chase and Schneep are at a loss for a moment. "Um... there... there?" Chase says awkwardly, patting Bro on the back. "I, uh... don't know how you're feeling right now but... it must bite. So... sorry."

"Wait... multiverses?" Schneep's eyes widen--they're yellow eyes holy shit--and he grabs Chase and pulls him back. "One moment, please." He pulls Chase out of a normal person's earshot and starts whispering. "Chase, I see three possibilities here."

"Okay?"

"One, he is ill and we need to get him to a hospital. Two, the multiverse theory is real. Three, time travel is real."

"Where'd you get time travel from? He said multiverse, so I get that, but what?"

"If he does not know what a holo is, or what the Digitalrise Faires you humans have are, or recognize a kritzein when he sees one, then perhaps he comes from some time before them."

"...or maybe he's just from some really isolated planet and has lost his memory?"

"Hmm. I like my last two theories better."

For once Bro wishes he didn’t have super hearing. But he stops his hysterics and listens. He finally coughs and waves his hand. “Um- …I guess you’re right? I’m from a parallel universe and… must be from the… the past.” He says sheepishly.

The two of them turn towards him. Schneep's eyes widen and he slowly smiles wide, keeping his lips pressed together, and then makes a gesture like he's clapping his hands but only his fingertips are touching. He must be excited. "The proof," he whispers. "Proof of the many worlds!"

"Uh... do you have... anything from your universe?" Chase asks, a bit more doubtful than Schneep. "H-how did you get here, even?"

“A rift, from our friend Sam. They’re also from another universe.” Bro says casually. “And uh… guess I have my phone?” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone and hands it to Chase.

"Bruh whaaaa?" Chase's eyes widen as he looks it over. "Comp, no way. This thing is ancient. And it doesn't look like a replica. I mean, I guess you could've gotten this from a museum, but uh... you don't look like the type to be able to do something like that.

“A museum?? Pretty sure this is new…” Bro whines.

“Schneep, look at this. It's fucking pog."

Bro laughs, “Oh! You still say Pog! That’s nice.”

Schneep takes it as well, turning the screen on and off. "Hmm..." He raises one hand into the air and flutters his fingers in happiness. "That is so fascinating. Ah, here." He hands it back to Bro.

"Well that's... definitely... compelling." Chase laughs. "So, uh... who are you, bruh? Like, your name, I mean."

Bro takes the phone back and blinks before pointing at himself with his thumb and grinning, “Oh! I’m Chase! Chase Brody! Back home though, I’m known as Bro Fantastic, the superhero!”

Chase's eyes widen. "Wait! Wait, that's--that's me!"

Schneep looks back and forth between Bro and Chase. "Oh! I do see the resemblance now!"

"Are you--me?! From another world?!" Chase gasps. "And--are you a real superhero?"

“Oh yeah most likely!” Bro grins. “And yup! Watch this!!” He pushes off the ground and starts to hover about a foot in the air.

"What the fuck?!" Chase shouts.

"Humans--humans do not do that," Schneep says slowly. "I-I do not think any creature can do that, not without wings or some other means of propulsion."

"Well--I'm sold on the multiverse thing now." Chase shakes his head. "So... what're you doing here? Oh, or was this an accident? Do you even know where here is? Uh... probably not. This place didn't exist until like fifty years ago, and your phone is much older than that."

Bro quickly lands and shakes his head. “I know I’m supposed to be here but I have no idea where here is. Only that I need to find my brother and this piece of a device we’re searching for.” He pulls out his tracker to see exactly where that is.The tracker tells him that the piece is in the IRIS building at the center of the station.

Schneep nods. "Well, you are on the Zypso Station--"

"'Powered by: IRIS'," Chase says, clearly mimicking something he's heard before; it's probably an announcement of some sort. "--which is circling the planet Terra," Schneep finishes. "This is a sort of... space city."

"Or an airport where people live," Chase says. "You guys have airports, right?"

"Even I know that humans had airports in the Digitalrise, Chase," Schneep says, sounding exasperated.

Bro feels a pit in his stomach, “…IRIS, huh? Ah fucking…” he sighs heavily, “Why is it always involving those guys?? In every universe? Really?” He calls up in exasperation. Then he pinches at the bridge of his nose, “okay- so… we’re on a space station… not earth- and IRIS controls it- and they have the piece I’m looking for… and I need to find where the fuck Alt is-!” He throws his hands up, “How am I supposed to find him on a space station!??”

"Alt? is that your brother?" Chase asks. He shrugs. "Sorry, comp. I don't know anyone named Alt."

"At least it is better than trying to find him on a planet or moon?" Schneep suggests.

"The two of us were going to meet up with some friends, soon," Chase says. "Uh... we maybe should have started going there earlier, actually. But maybe they've seen your brother?"

“Oh well… know anyone named Anti? Cuz that’s who Alt is too- but I’m the only one that calls him that. Big brother privilege and all that.” Bro says. He hums in thought, “hmmm there’s a possibly he could be with your friends!”

"Nope, don't know any Antis," Chase says, shaking his head. "Schneep? Any patients with that name?"

"Not that I can think of right now," Schneep says slowly.

"Ah well." Chase shrugs. "In any case, let's go. I can call them on the way." He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small square of metal. He pinches it between his fingers, some yellow circles appear around his fingerprints, and the square expands into a full phone. Then Chase takes out a pair of bright yellow irregular circles and puts them in his ears--ah, wireless earphones.

Bro blinks in confusion as he watches Chase use his phone. “What the fuckkk…???” He whispers.

Schneep looks at Bro and jerks his head to the side. "Do you want to come?"

Bro blinks at Schneep now and nods, “Ah yeah- might as well… best lead I have so far…”

Schneep gives another close-lipped smile. "Great! Let's head on, then."

Chase and Schneep lead Bro out of the small park area and into... into a cyber-city. Tall buildings reach into the air, up to a distant metal ceiling. Walkways and railways and wires for floating cable cars cross through the air, an intricate web of transportation. Everything is brightly lit from varying light sources, so many that it's practically indistinguishable from natural daylight. And there are people everywhere. Some of them have even set up little booths on the sides of the walkways. Most of them are human, of all different sorts of ethnicities, but many are not. There are more kritzeins, the species that Schneep is, and there are really tall humanoids with pink and blue hair and eyes that seem too big for their heads, and there are smaller species flying through the air with the buzz of insectoid wings, and there are species with four arms and four legs like some kind of centaur, and there are species that are just piles of goop like something out of D&D--the variety is endless.

Bro is constantly circling to look around at everything with wide eyes and a slacked jaw. “Holy fucking shit…!” He whispers, stunned by everything.

Chase puts his phone away--collapsing it into the tiny square and putting it in his pocket, and looks back at Bro with a smile. "Fucking wild, right? I moved here a couple years ago. The place still amazes me. It's probably blowing your mind."

"Especially the other species," Schneep says. "The, ah, aliens." He chuckles. "Though humans are aliens to me. Chase, have Marvin or Jackie found other-Chase's brother?"

"Nothing so far, but they promised to look out for him," Chase says. "I told them he'd probably look like he came from 200 years ago. Marvin wouldn't have a good reference for Terra from that era but he says he'll try."

“Do we really look that out of place?” Bro asks, “I mean… I’m still human- there’s still humans around… I’m just wearing jeans and a jacket! S’not like I’m… dressed like a pirate or anything-“ he mumbles. “Also… what year is it??”

"Well... I guess you're not too strange," Chase says slowly. "But it's like... like seeing someone in a costume, you know? You won't think about them too much, but you will wonder why they were wearing that, if they were going to a costume party or something. As for the year? It's 2355."

At the same time, Schneep says, "It is 11009."

The two of them glance at each other. "I think the Terran year will probably be the most relevant to you, not the Atraton year," Chase says.

"Atratov is a wonderful planet, though," Schneep says.

"Yeah, I know, but he's clealry human."

"By GS it is 4317," Schneep points out.

"And that still probably isn't relevant." Chase rolls his eyes and looks at Bro. "He gets stricted about time and how it's relative."

Bro looks very confused as he looks in between the two, “time is all different here?! Why can’t they just pick one date??? Hello???” This seems to be a lot for him.

"Well do you think all planets move around their stars at the same paces?" Schneep points out.

"You're breaking his brain," Chase mutters. "Which I get. I can barely keep Terra time in track sometimes."

The three of them step onto a circular platform along with a few others. Railings appear around the edge of the platform and it raises into the air--an elevator.

“Okay so terra… must be earth… so it’s… 300 something years in the future???” Bro says quietly. Then he gasps a bit in surprise as the platform goes up and he holds onto the rail and looks down. “Yooo??”

"'Terra must be Terra'? Yeah, of course, bruh." Chase laughs. "I think the translator is screwing with things. Anyway--yeah! Elevator! We're heading up to the Gateway area. It's sort of like a shopping slash restaurant level."

“Ah- okay… that makes more sense,” Bro grumbles. He then tries to look closer at the elevator. “How is it moving?? There’s no- like… hidden wires or a box or??? Is it magic??” He asks.

"Magic?" Schneep chuckles. "I suppose if you are from a world where people can float, magic probably exists there."

"It's Trulanth anti-grav tech," Chase says. "With some IRIS stuff mixed in to help it lift up heavier stuff, I think. I don't know how the fuck it works either, so it might as well be magic."

"The optels from Trulanth are very intelligent," Schneep says. "I think it is evolution making up for how small they are."

"Yeah, these guys." Chase pulls out his phone again and pulls up a picture, showing Bro. This is a stock image of a couple aliens, spherical with long tails and a singular big eye with a green sclera. ...huh. That looks familiar. The platform stops, and Chase and Schneep get off, gesturing for Bro to follow.

Bro’s eyes kinda glaze over with all the names. “Huh…” he looks at Chase’s phone and then gasps, “That looks like Sam!!” He hurries after the others, “those guys are called.. optels here?? …we just know them as… eyesss-“

"Oh, you've seen something like them before?" Schneep repeats.

"Sam? Isn't that the name of your friend who helped you get here?" Chase asks. "They're an optel? Cool. I've always wanted to meet one. They make all sorts of devices to help them move around, and they do that with just one little... tail thing! They don't have thumbs or anything!" He laughs. "Dunno how they do it, but they do."

“Yeah! We’ve met a couple in a couple different worlds! The one that’s helping us is a hugeee one! They can shrink and stuff but They can also take up the whole sky! They’re really powerful! …never seen one make tech before though.” Bro says.

Chase's eyes sparkle. "That's so cool..." He whispers. "Normally optels are about this big?" He holds his hands out like he's holding a basketball. "But their kids are smaller, of course."

They're walking along a walkway lined with storefronts. A lot of these shops have signs that change their lettering, reading the name in English, in other languages that Bro recognizes as Earth languages like Spanish, German, Russian, or Chinese, and in languages that look completely alien. He swears he sees one that looks like the Minecraft enchanting table language. Not all of the shops have these signs, though. Some just have to stick with one script.

Bro grins. He looks at the storefronts and all the languages with fascination. “…I can’t believe this is real dude-“

Chase stares at him, then shrugs. "I... don't really know what that's like. We've had contact with aliens for a long time... Since, uh..." He screws up his face in concentration. "Sometime in the 2050s, I think? So about three hundred years. Hell, Zypso Station is older than me! It's bizarre and amazing, but I've like... grown up hearing about it, you know?"

“Back home- it’s 2020…” Bro days quietly, “almost halfway to 2021! But… still- we haven’t… found aliens yet. And you know- only astronauts go into space.”

"Yeah... I remember that from high school history." Chase nods. "Well. I don't know if it will happen like this in your universe, but here, the aliens found us first. Three of them all at once, they were like 'hey we're making a government thing, want to join us?'"

"The optels, zoas, and dajkisa," Schneep says. "They and the humans were the founders."

"And they were all super smart so they helped us humans out," Chase continues. "And then we all started going into space and finding others and making new colonies on uninhabited planets--It was probably absolutely crazy living in that time period."

“I thought living in 2020 was crazy…” Bro comments, looking bewildered and in awe about the history. “There was like.. sooo many movies about aliens like… destroying humans and shit.”

"Oh, things weren't perfect," Chase says. "There were fights. I think there still are somewhere else? But Terra hasn't gone to war in a while."

"Because you all scared everyone off," Schneep says.

"Whaaaat?"

"You humans are fucking insane. You just keep fucking going, what the zyzz? And you do things like eat poison for fun."

Chase grins. "Cranky because you'll never be able to have spicy food, are you?"

Schneep sticks his tongue out at him. It's forked.

“Oh- aliens think that’s us eating poison??” Bro laughs, “Man- that’s crazy! Spicy food is sooo good!”

"Anyway, we're getting close to Kissarso's now," Chase says. "Marvin and Jackie are probably already there."

Bro blinks at Chase, “Oh! Awesome! Man- I wonder what they’re gonna be like…” he muses quietly.

"Well--Marvin's a felorr," Chase says. "They're kinda like cats, in the same way Schneep here is like a lizard. Jackie's human, though. Grew up on Terra like me--but he's from the Irish Union, I'm from Califoregon."

“The Irish union?? Huh- never thought that would happen…” Bro comments, looking most surprised about that.

They reach a small restaurant that looks a lot like an old-fashioned bistro, but with the sign switching back and forth between the word "Kissarso's" in English and some language that looks like cursive spaghetti. There's an awning and a bunch of tables and chairs that look pretty much normal, except that the chair legs all end in ball-like wheels. Guess there's not many ways to improve on table technology.

Bro looks around the restaurant and then laughs a bit, “…at least the tables and chairs are normal!”

"Yeah... chairs vary depending on what planet you're on and how many legs its native species has, but tables are the same pretty much everywhere... all that changes is how tall they are." Chase chuckles. "Now where are they...?"

Nearby, as it turns out. Even Bro can see the man standing up and waving his hands for attention. He has ruffled brown hair dyed green at the tips, and is wearing some sort of hoodie-cloak outfit with a belt around his waist. His hands are... shiny? Is he wearing gauntlets or something? Also sitting at the table is another man who's partially hidden from sight, but Bro can see big pointed ears.

Bro laughs too. He blinks as the man waves and he brightens up- his hair looks just like his Jackie’s! He waves.

"Oh! There they are," Schneep says, following Bro's wave. "Let's go."

The group of three dodge around groups of customers of various species until they reach the table.

"Wow, he really does look like you!" the man in red says. "Except with more muscles!"

"Heyyyy," Chase complains.

"I'm Jackie Kelly." The man in red smiles and holds out his hand for a shake.

Bro laughs, “Nice to meet ya!” He tells Jackie as he shakes his hand.

"This is Mrrfn, we call him Marvin." The other man at the table raises his hand. The catlike features are evident in his face, and the fact that he's entirely covered in cinnamon-brown fur. Big triangular cat ears stick out from his head, twitching slightly. There are small devices in them--earplugs of some sort. He also has a long tail, and even sitting it's clear that his legs bend differently. He raises a hand in greeting--a hand with pads on the palm and fingers.

Bro looks over at Marvin and his eyes widen and he can’t help but gasp. “Woahhh! you’re like- a legit cat person!! That’s so wicked!” He hides a laugh behind his hand, “Oh my brother would be so excited to meet you!”

Marvin's eyes widen--literally, his pupils dilate. They're very catlike, blue irises taking up most of the visible space. "You think so?" he says in a quiet voice.

“Oh for sure!! He loves cats! He’ll lose his mind!” Bro giggles.

Jackie grins. "We'd love to meet him! Not often you meet someone from uh... so far away, if you know what I mean." He takes a seat (as do Schneep and Chase), and as he taps his fingers on the table, Bro slowly realizes something about his hands. They look a bit like metal gloves but... they're solid. There are small blue circles denoting every knuckle and joint, and they're solid. Bro can see the place where one ends at Jackie's wrist, connecting to the flesh there, but the other disappears up the sleeve. They're... prosthetics of some kind.

Bro goes to sit down then looks down at Jackie’s hands and he makes a small pog face. “Yo??? Do you have… robot hands??”

"Oh, did I not mention that?" Chase says.

Jackie laughs. "Yep! I'm a cyborg." He holds up his hands, flexing them. "My legs too!" He raises one up, showing that he's not wearing shoes, instead having a metal prosthetic that ends in a shoe-shaped foot.

“Woahhh!! That’s metal!! …literally metal!” Bro laughs.

"No feet on the table!" Schneep says. "Not even metal ones!"

"Oops." Jackie lowers his leg.

Marvin's tail swishes in amusement, then he looks at Bro. "Sorry we couldn't find your brother, other-Brody. We both looked on the way here."

Bro looks at Marvin and sighs, “It’s okay, I appreciate it. …there’s two other people he could have appeared by… but these guys already don’t know an Anti… do you guys know a JJ, though?” He asks.

Chase blinks. "I do, actually."

"You do?" Jackie says, surprised.

"He's the Olinia shop owner. I know I've mentioned him before. Oh, uh, other-me, that's not an alien species. Olinion is a planet that humans settled on. One of the first ones, actually. They have really cool tech, I bought a projector and speaker set there, they make movies and holos really immersive--" He shakes his head. "Sorry, rambling. The point is, I think I know him."

"What does he look like?" Marvin asks. "Human, obviously. Brown hair, blue eyes... really nice mustache." Chase reaches up to his face and curls up the edges of an imaginary mustache.

“That’s him!” Bro says excitedly. “Do you know where he is? He probably knows where Alt is!”

Chase frowns. "Probably in his shop...? I haven't been there in a while, but I remember where it is very distinctly. We can go check. We'll have to take the rail from here."

"So... are we going to leave now?" Jackie asks. "Because I was looking forward to getting lunch."

Bro pauses, “…I mean… I guess it wouldn’t be… so bad to see what future food is like…”

Jackie grins. "Pog!"

"If your brother is with JJ, I'm sure he's safe," Chase says. "He's a good man... even if I haven't seen him in a while."

Bro nods, though he seems a bit nervous. He wished he had a way to check in on Alt but if his phone was ancient here it probably wouldn’t work.

"Menu." Marvin leans forward and taps a black circle in the center of the table. A slit in the middle of it slides open and out pops something that looks like a pane of glass, but with glowing blue text on it. Marvin takes that, and then the rest of them repeat the gesture, taking a menu each. "You'll need to do it yourself, by the way," Jackie tells Bro helpfully.

Bro looks fascinated as he taps the black circle cautiously.

Another glass menu pops up. It's initially written in that cursive spaghetti language, but there's a tab that says 'English' on it. The menu works like a touchscreen, so when Bro taps the 'English' tab the text immediately responds, becoming readable. There are more tabs with different species names on them. Tapping 'Human' brings up a list of recognizable food like pizza and french fries... and a lot that are strange, too.

"These are the foods that your species can eat," Schneep explains, leaning over to help Bro. His own menu is written in some blocky language, and has fewer menu items than the selection for humans. "What are you feeling? The familiar or the strange? Or something that is only a bit different?"

Bro whispers a ‘woahhh’ under his breath as he presses around on the menu. He then blinks over at Schneep and hums, “Well… how often am I gonna be in the future like this? I wanna try something strange! My friends all say I got an iron stomach so-“ He laughs.

Schneep grins. "Alright. Any advice from the other humans?"

"If you're not a vegetarian, I really like the boral wings," Chase says. "They're kind of like chicken but... saltier? And juicier. Oh, and it comes with this side of something called levooras, which, uh... I don't know how to describe but it's a really interesting texture."

"Definitely get the hassilye juice," Jackie suggests. "It's a drink that comes from a vegetable that tastes like fruit."

"Or if you want something really fucking bizarre, there are these things called wissyi," Chase adds. "They're like... purple crunchy things that... I really don't know how to describe the flavor. But they're like this long and you eat them like how you eat a carrot." He holds out his hands six inches apart.

“Oooh!” Bro says, fascinated. “…I think I’ll get those wings and the juice then! Those sound good-“ then he blinks rapidly and pats himself down, “Wait I- I have like… ancient money… I can’t pay you guys!”

“Oh don’t worry about it,” Chase says. “We can cover you.”

Bro flushes, “oh… that’s so nice…” he says quietly.

“Oh! Do you have like—money on you right now?” Jackie asks. “I’d love to compare!” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out—actual paper money of some kind. It looks like a 10-euro note, but the design is different and the shade of red is brighter than Bro is used to.

Bro blinks and grins at Jackie. “Yeah! Here-“ He fumbles for his wallet, and pulls out a 5, 10, 20 and 50 euros. He blinks down at Jackie’s, “Woah you guys still use paper??”

“Also tap the items on the menu to order,” Marvin points out, doing the same on his.

Bro blinks at Marvin and fumbles with his menu, “Oh right!” He quickly taps on the boral wings and hassilye juice.

“Oh believe me, every planet has the ‘let’s get rid of physical money’ movement,” Schneep says. “And yet, somehow, the physical persists.”

“Whoa… they don’t actually look too different,” Jackie says, comparing the two 10-euro notes. “I guess the Peacegiving Building wasn’t built back then.”

“Right? Kinda weird for like 300 year old money!” Bro laughs.

“You can’t use most currencies on stations, though,” Marvin says. “There’d be too many. You always have to convert to galaxy pieces.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a handful of metal squares, ranging in size from American penny to not too much bigger than an American quarter. They’re tinted slightly purple in color and are inscribed with weird symbols.

Bro looks over at Marvin’s pieces, “oooh neat!”

“This is my lucky note, though, so I’m never gonna convert it,” Jackie says, folding and unfolding his note.

Bro grins at Jackie and nods, “Understandable! I think lucky stuff like that is good to keep around.” He puts all his bills back in his wallet.

Jackie laughs and puts his note back as well. "I guess they need to standardize it, or something. And then it's just persisted."

"It probably helps that humans are a very stubborn species," Schneep says.

"It's in our DNA," Chase says proudly.

Bro let’s out a short ha! Of a laugh. “Cheers I’ll drink to that!”

It's actually not long before their food arrives. Incredibly quick, in fact. It's brought over by a tall alien covered in silver scales, with a long tail and wings, too, giving an overall draconic effect. "Hello boys," they say in what sounds like a raspy female voice--though you can't really assume with aliens, can you? "Never seen your friend before."

"He's, uh... a relative of mine," Chase says. "From the surface. Big history fan, up here to learn about the history of the station."

Bro blinks at the food coming, “yo that was fast!” He stares a bit at the server then waves shyly.

"Ssss." The server nods understandingly and passes out the food, which was carried over on some floating trays. Bro's boral wings turn out to be three large pieces, each a zigzag shape, covered in dark red-brown breading. There's a side of some really alien looking stuff--that must be the levooras. They're small blue spheres, bigger than grains of rice but smaller than peas, covered in a darker blue sauce. The hassilye juice is a pale orangish yellow, and comes in a funky-looking curved glass.

Bro marvels at the food and pokes at it a bit. “Yooo! This is crazy!!” He eagerly brings out his phone to take a picture of it. “My mates aren’t gonna believe me without photo evidence!”

"Oh! Get us all in the picture, too!" Jackie says, making a fingergun gesture and grinning.

"And all the rest, too!" Chase says. He's ordered another set of boral wings, while Schneep has something that looks like a salad but with long, thin leaves, Marvin has some sort of stew with chunks of dark brown meat, and Jackie has... is that literally just pizza? Well, pizza if all of it was green.

“Fuck yeah!!” Bro says with a big grin as he jumps up and gets the food and all the rest of the guys in the picture. “Dude I can’t believe how wild this is! I’m glad I’ll have these to remind me this isn’t a fever dream!” He laughs as he sits back down. He starts to dig into his food.

Chase's description of the boral wings as a saltier, jucier chicken really holds strong. The levooras side tastes a bit like buttery pasta, heavy on the butter. And the hassilye juice is sweet, with a slight sour bite at the beginning of each sip.

Bro beams and digs in heartedly, “Holy fuck this is delicious!”

As they eat, Chase suddenly gasps. "Oh! We should've ordered something for your brother!"

Bro blinks at Chase then gasps with him and face palms, “Oh yeah!! He’s probably even hungrier than I am! He used a lot of magic last world…”

"We can order takeout dessert, it's fine," Jackie says. "They do great chocolate yessiyrs. Which is funny, because yessiyr isn't even a human dish!"

"If a species can eat chocolate, they will," Schneep says, chuckling.

Marvin sighs, sounding disappointed.

Bro smiles warmly at the others, “god that’d be so nice you guys… he loves chocolate!” He goes and gives Marvin a sympathetic smile.

"That is settled, then, we will get him some yessiyrs,"Schneep says.

Marvin blinks back at Bro and says nothing. Chase nudges Bro. "That's Marvin's way of smiling back. A lot of other species don't smile naturally."

Marvin nods. "I'm enjoying myself though." His tail is flicking back and forth. "I do wish I could try chocolate though... but your vanilla is good, too."

“Ohh! Just like a cat!” Bro grins, “Don’t worry i got a cat back at home- I know cat body language!”

"I've seen Terra cats--they actually really resemble felorr ancestors," Marvin says.

"Like the way monkeys do with humans!" Jackie says cheerfully. "Evolution and stuff."

"So I know what you mean." Marvin blinks again.

Once they're done with lunch, Chase taps the black circle in the table again and gets another menu. "So we're getting some yessyirs to go, then, anyone else want anything?"

"I think we are fine," Schneep says.

“Yeah I’m good!” Bro pats his stomach. “that was crazy good, dude… I might get too full if I get anymore!”

"I know, the food here is amazing, isn't it?" Chase says, grinning. "We come to Kissarso's all the time. Alright, the yessyirs come in sets of four so I'll get you three chocolate ones and one classic, just so you can try it."

As he orders the dessert to go, the light up signs in the area all... flicker. All at once. The other restaurant patrons and passers-by all cry out in surprise. Bro sees another dragon-like alien--this time with coppery scales--lean out from the entrance to Kissarso's. They shout something in a rasping, hissing language that the translator on his ear tells him is, "Where's Sissel?! Our camera system just went down!"

The other four at the table all look around as well. "...Weird," Marvin says slowly.

"Oh, d'you think it's that guy again?!" Jackie gasps.

Bro sits up straight and narrows his eyes as the lights flicker, on high alert. He tries to listen out for anything then turns to Jackie, “…what guy?”

"They call him 'Septic,'" Jackie says, leaning forward.

"Which, I'm told, is a very strange thing to call yourself in English," Schneep says.

"Yeah, it's a bit weird," Chase agrees. "But I'm BruhAverage, so... can't really say anything weird."

Bro’s eyes widen as he looks at the screen, “woah… septic huh? Weird… close to my brother’s stage name. He calls himself AntiSepticeye.”

"He's been hacking the Zypso Station systems for about four Terra years now," Jackie continues. "Some sort of anarchist. Sometimes he plays videos on all the screens, hang on, I have a video-ception of one." He reaches into his pocket and pulls out that same collapsible phone model that Chase has, activating it. "Sorry, I don't have the volume on in public, but it's stuff like this." He turns it around, showing Bro a shaky handheld filming of a sign that's been hacked, playing a video of a brown-haired human man speaking to the camera. The man's left eye is green and mechanical-looking, and metal plates surround his face on that side.

And then Bro's own phone starts to buzz in his pocket.

Bro jumps slightly and blinks wildly before pulling out his phone. “Wha?? I didn’t think this would work here??”

"Yeah, no, it doesn't." Anti is now on his phone screen instead of Alt's. "I just needed to get your attention.

Bro yells in surprise and nearly drops his phone but holds onto it with both of his hands. “Anti!! Oh uh?? Hi!

“So this is where you are. Having fun?" The question is surprisingly genuine, missing the bite that Anti would usually have.

“Yeah I… I found a bunch of the others! All we’re missing is JJ and well- other you!” Then it hits him and he holds the phone closer to him, suddenly looking panicked, “Wait if you’re here! I-Is Alt in trouble?!”

"He's fine, don't worry," Anti says. "There was a uh... tense moment, but he's fine. He's actually with JJ right now."

Bro sags in relief, “oh hey that’s good! Can you lead us to where they are! We got him dessert!”

Chase leans over. "Yoooo, do you have a screen assistant? I didn't know they had those back then!"

Bro blinks then tilts his screen to show Chase, “Not… exactly? This is our friend Anti! He’s been helping us go from universe to universe to find the pieces we’re looking for!”

Anti waves. "Hey."

Chase blinks. "Huh. Actually, you kind of look like Septic. But not exactly..."

"I do, hm?" Anti looks thoughtful for a moment. Then he dismisses the thoughts. "Yes, I can take you to where he is. But... it's going to be difficult."

"Difficult?" Marvin asks, also leaning over. "I heard you say that he was with JJ. Don't we just need to go to his shop?"

Anti shakes his head. "He's not at his shop right now... You all have internet searches, right? Can you look up local news?"

"Uh... sure." Chase takes out his phone. He taps at the screen for a bit... and then his eyes widen. "Wait, what? JJ... disappeared?"

"He's safe," Anti says. "I just saw him, don't worry. The point is, he's not there. He's somewhere else that needs to be secret."

“Wait what??” Bro says with raised eyebrows, “then- Alt’s in this secret place too?? But he’s okay- but oh god is he trapped there? Cuz that’s gonna make him freak out! Also why does this place need to be secret?!”

"He's not trapped there," Anti says, tactfully leaving out the fact that his robotic other self definitely wanted to keep him trapped there. "And I don't want to share many details. Even though I knocked the camera systems down, there's still a chance I could be missing something high-tech."

"Wait, that was you?!" Jackie says, leaning over.

"Basically, you've probably heard by now that IRIS runs this place?" Anti continues, ignoring him. "Has to do with that."

“Ohhh… right. Okay… so- how are we gonna get to Alt then?” Bro asks, leaning forward. “The piece is in the IRIS building too apparently. Which… seems bad.”

"Yeah. It does, doesn't it?" Anti says. "But something I noticed while looking for you is that there is a very distinct path through the station towards the place that's out of view of cameras. It's a bit winding, but it should work." He had no doubt that the robotic Anti and Sam use this route to get in and out of their bunker.

“Oh okay! Pog!” Bro grins.

"Um... should we come?" Schneep asks slowly. "I, ah... don't think the rest of us had plans... and this seems like... something serious you might need help with..."

Bro blinks at the others and perks up, “yeah you guys should come! Alt will want to meet you!! And like… in other universes- all of you and JJ and sometimes the other Antis too are friends! Maybe this is your chance to all meet!”

"Yeah... guess the least I can do is check on JJ," Chase says. "Make sure he's okay."

"I'm really curious about this now." Jackie is grinning wide. "It's like we're in an old superhero story!"

"I don't have anything," Marvin says, tail flicking excitedly.

"Well... that will make getting there a bit more difficult, but I'm sure you can all handle it," Anti says.

Bro grins wide, “Hell yeah!”

"Oh!" Anti gasps and suddenly disappears.

The server from before returns with a clear box of the desserts, the yessyirs. They're about the size of Bro's palm, small caramel-colored domes that jiggle a little as the box is set on the table. Three of them have chocolate sauce drizzled over the top and are sitting on top of a disk of chocolate. The last one has some sort of purple-ish sauce and a purple disk as the base.

Bro blinks curiously as Anti leaves then giggles at the sight of the yessyirs- slightly shaking the box to watch them jiggle.

"Thanks, Lessya," Chase says. He takes out a card and hands it to the server, who scans it with a device. The other three at the table all do the same.

Once the server, Lessya, is gone, Anti reappears on Bro's phone screen.

Bro smiles, “Well lads? You guys ready?”

"Yep!" Chase nods. "Who's carrying the box?"

"I have a bag," Marvin says, reaching down and pulling up some canvas shoulder bag. "If other-Chase is okay with that."

“Yeah sure dude! Thanks!” Bro grins. He pushes himself up and stretches before looking back at Anti. “Alright dude- where do we start?”

"We have to get down to the ground level of this layer," Anti says.

"Oh good, we can take you right there," Jackie says to Bro.

Chase stands up. "No time like now, then! Let's go."

[enderluna]

[ID: two rectangular flags with 7 stripes. They're all equal in width, being from top to bottom dark purple, purple, black, white, black, green and forest green. In the first there is the allion symbol which is a flower shape with 6 thin petals around a small circle. The symbol is maroon with a white border. On the first there is also a circle that shows the colors vividly inside while the rest is tinted black. /end ID]

Liomallion

pt: liomallion

Liomallion is an allion term for where one's orientation is impacted by LIOM, is intertwined with LIOM, or can only be fully understood through the lens of LIOM.

@radiomogai @io-archival @liom-archive @allion-archive @orientation-archive

[isfjmel-phleg]

There are two versions of Al Pratt's backstory in its entirety: the original in All-American Comics #19-20, which appeared in October-November 1940, and a revised and expanded version in Secret Origins 1986 #25, from April 1988.

And one could compare these stories and make observations about what they say about the cultures of their respective eras, or the adaptation choices of the later version, but I'm not going to do that (now?). Something that stood out to me was the differences in costuming choices for Mary James between the original, which depicts her in what would then have been contemporary clothing, and the retelling, which filters early 1940s clothing through the lens of the 1980s.

Mary first appears when Al meets her out walking, presumably on or near their college campus. She is wearing clothing suitable for a collegiate young woman of the early 1940s: an orange fitted short-sleeved sweater, a green plaid skirt, orange ankle socks, and green saddle shoes. The silhouette of the skirt is closer to that of the 1930s than what it would become in the 1940s (1940 is still early in the decade, so styles would still be transitioning); it is fairly narrow and flares out toward the hem, extending past the knees. Skirts later in the decade would rise to knee-length to conserve fabric and would develop a more A-line shape.

The 1988 retelling similarly depicts her in a sweater and skirt. This long-sleeved sweater is reasonably comparable to styles of the day, but note how the skirt silhouette differs. It is a similar length but a much fuller A-line/circle shape. This is more like styles of the late 1940s and the 1950s than the distinct flared column shape of the 1930s that lingered into the earliest years of the 1940s. The bow design on her heels is typical of the 1940s, but the spiky heels are about a decade too early. 1940s heels were thicker.

The choice to put her in heels instead of the original saddle shoes not only reinforces the ultra-feminine look that the saturated magenta and purple color scheme gives but also further emphasizes the height difference between Mary and Al, which is a major point in this scene.

There aren't very good views of the suit that Mary wears during the kidnapping (can't be a Golden Age love interest without being kidnapped at least once, of course). But it appears to consist of a green waist-length jacket with a rounded collar and buttons to the neck, paired with a matching skirt in the flared column shape. Her shoes are not visible, and she has no hat (normally part of such attire), probably because she was forced to leave the house suddenly. Again, this style hearkens back more to the late 1930s. Later 1940s women's suits had a boxier, wide-shouldered silhouette.

The 1988 retelling gives Mary a relatively more active role in this scene and a more detailed costume. Her yellow suit jacket reaches the hips and flares out in a peplum, with pockets, and her skirt is still quite full. She also wears a black collared blouse with a white tie. I couldn't find photo references of such ties worn with women's suits at this time, the skirt is the wrong shape, and the heels shouldn't be stilettos, but otherwise this costume isn't too far off-era.

It's worth noting that 1980s fashion took some inspiration from the 1940s. This suit probably woudn't have looked out of place in 1988.

At the college's ball, Mary wears a red evening gown that continues to show the influence of the late 1930s. It is bias-cut, flared at the hem, puff-sleeved, and low in the back. These styles were still seen in the very early 1940s.

Whereas in the 1988 retelling, she wears a much shorter magenta dress with a voluminous skirt and sleeves, frills at the waist and neck, a sash tied in a giant bow, and loose-fitting elbow-length gloves.

This is a 1980s prom dress. No one was dressing like this in 1940. Everything about this is incorrect.

Even by 1980s standards, this is an oddly juvenile choice of costume (plunging neckline notwithstanding) for a character who is a college-aged woman from a high-class family to wear to a formal event with an ostentatiously valuable diamond necklace. But the retelling's narrative does make a point of Mary's needing to "grow up a bit" (since in both versions of the story she's a rather unpleasant 1940s stereotype of a female love interest harshly critical of the soon-to-be hero), so maybe this style is meant to emphasize her immature behavior.

There's not really a point to this, I just have an interest in historical costuming, and I find it interesting how noncontemporary clothing is interpreted by artists who are probably more accustomed to drawing their own eras. This 80s-does-40s depiction is about the same distance of time that we currently are from the 1980s. Would a present-day depiction of the 1980s be likewise steeped in current aesthetic sensibilities? Quite possibly.

[fountainpenguin]

"And you'd hate me too if I was ever honest- I got used to the secrecy! It's safer in the In-Between…" (x)

---

New Dog's Life chapter today! ~ 3rd Life series fan-season

Chapter 34 - “Ashes (Ren, Sniff)”

❤️ Read on AO3

💛 Start from Chapter 1

💚 More Pixels Imperfect fics

"Oh, I'm so selfish; punish myself with the soul-crushing knowledge I willingly lost it... Know I'll regret it and die just a little- it's what I do best sitting right in the middle..."

---

Ren washes Debbie the Slime Dragon in exchange for a ride to Phantom Dragon territory (to rescue Martyn). PiglinMyNose bottle-feeds baby foxes. Also, SnifferMyFeet says good-bye to Etho and heads out on his own.

AKA, the one where Sniff sets boundaries and everything will be okay.

(First 1,000 words under the cut)

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Mild content warning for baby slimes suckling from mama dragon

---

Renthedog - Wolf (Tamed)

Status: Flattery turned up to 11

Engineer, neurobiology teacher, and conservationist

💙  🧡  💚

It's with a grand flourish that Ren strolls through the hollow beneath the massive, twisting roots of the Slime Dragon's custom tree. Funny place. There's straw all over the dirt and slime dripping from the tree branches. Slimes don't take up space… That's one thing you can say about them. They ooze, collect, dissolve, and pull themselves together again. With all that surface area, it's a wonder they don't lag the place out. Ren thrusts his arms in the air, tail beating back and forth as he struts straight into the center chamber.

"And how are the two most gorgeous ladies in New Star tonight? … Wait a moment. Where's Charlotte?"

Then he has to duck as Debbie's tail nearly clips him on the head. She's resting on her side, glaze-eyed, with her paws flopped in front of her. Ren scampers forward in the straw, moving out of easy swatting range, and gets a full look at her belly. She's not a long dragon, but one of the bigger, rounder ones. Chunky would probably be the correct word - the way that slimes are thick and chunky - but perhaps not the most polite. Black scales cover her nose, legs, and sides (running all the way to the tip of her tail), but the ruff that circles her neck and runs down her spine gleams with blue and green goop.

The last section of her tail is purple-pink, as are a few massive talons. Belly's goopy too. Ren's hung around Debbie often enough that he no longer jumps when dark splots (vague eyeballs) drift through her slimy bits and study him from the safety of their mother's membrane. A few slimes rest around the area - mobs and hybrids alike; one of the mobs hops forward and nuzzles his foot - but Ren does his best not to stare. Even when he can feel eyes burning on the back of his neck. Hybrids watch him from the branches. Not everyone plays the turf war games.

Debbie whuffs through her nostrils, but doesn't offer a straight answer for the Charlotte question. Her tail swings up like before. Again, Ren sidesteps and leans his head far enough to the side that it grazes harmlessly above. It swings its way back around, this time lower, but he hop-steps without looking. Debbie's got patterns. All dragons do. Ren moves past her hind paws, which lie half-curled in the dirt. They flex.

Ah, there's her belly. Hungry newborn mouths push against her, and Ren lifts his brows. Spawnlings still too young to lose their lens caps push each other with their hands, blindly crawling and whining with their gaping, muted mouths for places to suck. Debbie's a special case- she doesn't really, like… have teats? Just that slimy stuff, so they can put their mouths anywhere.

But here's the weird part. Slimes aren't the only babies under the tree tonight, and Ren's eyes go narrow as he takes in the invasive species. Foxes - little brown newborns with pink mouths - whine and wiggle in front of a hybrid sitting near Debbie's armpit. Do dragons have armpits? She kind of does, speckled with more clumps of goo.

"Right- one at a time, you- you precious gifts, you angels- OW! One at a time," the hybrid is saying. Ren recognizes him instantly, though he's not had a lot of conversations with the man. Several large buckets of milk sit beside him; he's filling a goat horn cup that drips out its narrow bottom end. Did he just have that nanny outfit on hand?

"PiglinMyNose! I shouldn't be surprised to find you serving your dear mother in her time of need." Ren glances again at the resting dragon. Debbie never did give him verbal acknowledgement. She must be a little hazy right now, maybe drained from the nursing effort. He walks closer, every step careful. He likes to think he befriended Debbie long ago, but you should never let your guard down around dragons. They could bite at any time.

She is letting him get close, though. Ren bends to pick up a spawnling that's facing the wrong direction, bracing itself on one hand and sucking on its other fist. New arrivals are bigger on a server, fed by actual player energy, but in this dimension, they're all too young for skins. Or walking. Gotta put some girth on, y'know?

He doesn't dare lift the spawnling to his shoulder, but Lizzie taught him how to move them without upsetting dragons. He keeps the spawnling near the ground, taking slow steps, and sets it down by the lower part of Debbie's belly, near the hind legs. D'you think Debbie works like mammal dragons, where the teats closer to the rear provide the most milk? Hm.

Pig yips again as another fox bites him. They all want their turn licking drips from the goat horn cup. Some kits have milk-dotted mouths. Others are still bare. Ren kneels beside him, less careful lifting fox mobs from his lap than he was with the skinless slime hybrid. "Yeah, yeah," Pig mutters. "I got chased out of the turf war, so I'm babysitting now."

"Where's Charlotte?"

"Think she went to bother Scott?" Gesturing at the milk, he adds, "Like- I think she said something about not producing enough milk because of the raid? Is that how it works?"

"Oh, she can't den down." Yes, that would be a problem. He asked Etho about this once- a research project for his Education back in the early days. Something like… "I think when foxes breed in the wild, they stay in the den with the kit until it's an adult. That probably means they gather berries before they den down? Maybe Charlotte couldn't find enough food."

"Well, they like milk," Pig remarks, lifting a squirmy kit in his hand. He rotates it like a fruit he's about to eat, then brings the goat horn cup to its mouth. The kit laps at the tip, catching all the milk it can, while the other two dozen or so kits keep nipping or swatting at each other, or else crawling over him. Two are chewing on his apron. Three dozen? Maybe more. "Ow! Yeah, yeah… You'll all get your turn. But you're not endearing yourselves to me. I don't care how cute you are- you make me sick."

[Full chapter on AO3 - Link at top]

[coutelier]

Here's the whole first 2,000 words of a new short story, which does contain spoilers and bit of a summary for what happens in Irongate (on Kindle, and next month will be released on many other stores through Draft2Digital) as its set shortly after:

A graphic on the news showed a green cloud spreading from Irongate, like the tendrils of some vast eldritch terror gripping the Earth. A ‘terrorist’, as it was reported, had turned synthetic organisms intended to purify pollutants in our atmosphere into a mutagen intended to destroy all humanity. An anonymous source had leaked details of a vaccine to every lab and university on the planet, but much of the mutagen had ascended to the mesosphere, could descend anywhere, potentially mutate and evolve unpredictably. The source of it all had been the company Stag Corp, a subsidiary of Meridiem who had promised a full investigation into the rogue CEO and were offering whatever aid they could to governments and militaries to contain any outbreaks. They had acted quickly to capitalize on the situation, almost as if they’d known it would happen. The only thing certain was that the world would never be the same, but life - in whatever form it took - would go on. The advice for now was to stay indoors.

So it was that even as the networks competed to be the first to report the fall of civilization, Jennifer Airhart reassembled a music box amid the clutter that spanned the circumference of her workshop. The fair haired lighthouse keeper had been alone since the disappearance of her parents - while working for the aforementioned companies - but recent events had left her with an eleven - nearly twelve - year old ward. Tenley Tych flitted side to side of her, asking every minute, “is it fixed yet?”

“Almost,” Jenn sighed wearily each time, adjusting her magnifying lens as she tweezered another cog into place. Yet she smiled, in truth enjoying this project. Usually she tinkered with robots, computers, other devices much of whose operations were invisible to the naked eye and for all most knew might as well have been powered by pixies. There was something very satisfying about being to see how every part of a machine fitted, how every component worked together. It felt so much more real. For the first time since her parents had left her, it felt like there was life here.

Tenley did another circle of the room, curiously regarding the other contraptions inside. The most recent - that Jenn had just started that day - was a metallic ring, a couple of feet across, stood vertically on one of the benches. Stag Corp and Meridiem had been hiding many things, including the existence of a type of hyperspace - The Witch Way. But exploring it had been slow since anything from our realm that went in was instantly crushed and annihilated. The one being they’d created that had survived and learned to navigate that space they couldn’t control, and now she was gone and her secrets with her.

Still there was no need to rush with that. At Tenley’s insistence Jenn had prioritized the music box and at long last began closing it up, the black haired tween practically bouncing as she waited to see if the operation had been a success.

 Tenley piped excitedly, “you need to wind it up!”

“Oh,” Jennifer nodded as if she’d been expecting just to push a button, “all right.” She cleared her throat, looked sternly down on the box, and began wagging her finger, “you miserable music box! Bet you couldn’t play a tune if it was just one note over and over! A singing sea bass has more artistic merit than you!”

Tenley’s head tilted, dark eyes glowering at Jennifer who pushed on undeterred:

“Your mother was a shoe-box, and your dad was a glass armonica!”

The tween blinked at her three times then stated flatly, “you’re not funny.”

“Aww, come on,” Jenn inhaled, glancing up at the growing tendrils on the monitor, “who knows if there’ll ever be a chance to use that one again.”

It would all blow over soon, she was sure; or at least the news would lose interest once it became clear it was going to take a much longer time before anything really dramatic happened and they went back to animals on skateboards. Sighing she wound the box up again - this time using the key - rolling her chair back to allow Tenley to see as the lid popped open and a blue fairy stood up and danced, pirouetting round and around to the dulcet chimes.

An immediate change came over Tenley; every muscle in the child’s body loosening at once, eyes drooping as she cradled the box, slumping into a swivel chair as the fairy transported her to another realm where the troubles of this one couldn’t harm her. It was still strange to Jennifer that Tenley really was just a kid, yet a kid capable of punching a hole in her chest, grabbing her spine, and pulling her inside out in under a second. Therefore although it warmed Jenn’s heart to see the girl so peaceful, she resisted the urge to hug unbidden.

She did ask, “why is that box so important?”

Tenley rolled her head back to rest on the pad of her chair, nostrils rising and deflating before she softly answered, “I just can’t sleep without it.”

Of the things Tenley had taken from her old home to the lighthouse - the box, a couple of Dinosaurs, one doll, a few books - it was clear the box was very special to her. Jenn didn’t push to find out why, knowing the girl felt a jumble of sometimes contradictory emotions about her old life being raised alone by a militant mother. She instead relaxed into her own seat, reflecting, “I used to have a teddy bear to help me sleep. One that would play tunes when you pressed her paw. I called her Candy because she had a scarf with red and white stripes.”

“What happened to her?” Tenley yawned.

“You know, I’m not really sure. But I suspect, well, mother was always trying to get me to throw things away. She thought I collected too much junk.”

Tenley’s dark eyes surveyed the interior of the lighthouse; benches loaded with bots in various states of repair, tools, microscopes and other devices whose function she couldn’t even guess at, monitors on every wall, thick wires and cables dangling everywhere. “No? Really?”

“Hm-hm. So, when I was ten a lot of my old toys started disappearing. I fear poor Candy was just one of the casualties of my mother’s purge,” Jenn sagged sulkily, still bitter.

“I don’t ever want kids,” Tenley admitted, “it seems moms always just end up hurting them.”

“I’m sure they mean well. Usually,” Jenn spun her chair around, peering through one of the monitors. There were already people blaming what had happened on everything from aliens to trans rights activists. It would have been a sad, disheartening indictment on the state of humanity, but Jenn’s glassy blue eyes narrowed as if trying to focus on something far more distant. “But I suppose that wasn’t really my family,” she whispered, “I’m not really me.”

Then Tenley peered confusedly and a little bit annoyed at her, “what are you going on about? Of course you’re you. Who else would you be?” In her mind it was that simple, and after all this was the only Jennifer she had ever known. But her adopted adult continued to stare away.

“I was just made to replace someone else.”

Which was sad - that a kid had died a long time ago - but Tenley didn’t see how it made her Jennifer less of a person. She did see, however, that Jenn was likely to mull on it for a long, long time, unless someone stopped her. “Alright,” the music box snapped shut and was put aside, “that’s enough, okay? Let’s go get ice cream.”

Jenn shook her head, unclear if she even heard Tenley at this point. “Years I spent waiting for my parents to come home, but all those memories might have just been a lie…”

Tenley groaned in growing frustration, “you’re just making yourself sad.”

Jennifer still only saw fog. “Did they really care about me at all, or was I just an experiment…”

“Oh for heaven’s sake,” Tenley sprung to her feet, and in a desperate bid to pull them both back from an evening of maudlin existential anguish, grabbed a spanner and threw it at the metal ring.

She didn’t think she had thrown it that hard, but for Tenley ‘not hard’ was a knock-out blow to a heavyweight boxer. The metal ring clanged and hummed, and like a bubble bursting in reverse a sphere formed inside it. Tenley quickly took hold of a desk as loose wires whipped up and small and the very air in the room began being sucked into the portal. This emergency did grab all of Jennifer’s attention, as she had to duck to avoid a hammer whizzing past her, so in that regard the plan had been a complete success.

As Tenley held on, Jenn pulled herself along the floor by a cable until she could reach the switches and yank out the wires powering the device. It was to no avail. “What?!” She blinked in astonishment at a monitor, straining against the wind, “it’s drawing power from the other side! Maybe if I invert this waveform…” a little keyboard tapping and the bubble popped out of existence just as quickly as it appeared. With a relieved sigh Jenn stood, patting down her loose messy hair and blouse. “Please warn me if you’re going to do anything like that again.”

In her old home Tenley would have expected a far harsher response. She opened her mouth to answer, perhaps even issue an apology, only to be interrupted by a muffled trilling ring. Scrunching her face she asked, “what is that?”

Jenn squinted confusedly at a spot under the lighthouse’s winding stairs. “The telephone?” She wondered. It definitely was, but, “the old telephone…” pushing aside some junk she revealed a dark box attached to the wall with an old dial and handset hanging on the side. She then stood back, twiddling her fingers as it continued to ring and shake, seeming unsure what to do. Eventually she turned to Tenley, “I-I suppose you’ve never seen a phone like this. To call someone you had to put your finger in there and spin it around to here.”

“I know how a phone works,” Tenley puffed, folding her arms over her chest, “I’ve seen old movies. And you’re not actually that much older than me, you know. Trying to act like you’re some wizened old crone who rode to school on a Woolly Mammoth or something.”

“Sorry.”

“Are you going to answer it? The noise is really annoying.”

“I didn’t know it was still connected,” Jenn bit her lip, now tapping her fingernails, “I mean, it’s probably just scammers or telemarketers. There’s no one else who would have this number.”

“But you won’t know unless you answer,” Tenley pointed out.

“You don’t understand - those people are pushy! It can take hours to find a way to wriggle out of the conversation.”

Tenley was continually baffled by how someone as clever as Jenn was also completely hopeless. “If it’s a scammer,” she sighed impatiently, “you just tell them to get lost, then hang up.”

“I-I,” Jennifer flushed and shifted nervously, aware that she was by all appearances the adult, but, “I just can’t do that. I can’t be rude to strangers. It’s just not how I was raised, I suppose.”

“What’s rude is people calling you at home to try and trick you out of money.”

“I’m sure they don’t really want to. They’re just forced into it by their economic circumstances.”

“And they’ll be used to people hanging up all the time. Why do you worry so much about everything?”

“I-I—”

“Fine. I’ll do it.”

“W-wait,” Jennifer meekly lifted a hand, but there was no stopping the determined tween. “Don’t be rude!”

Rolling her eyes, Tenley lifted the handset and politely spoke, “Airhart Retirement Home. What the hell do you want?” The response was silence. Tenley thought the ancient thing must be broken, until she saw Jenn making circular motions with her fingers.

“Other… other way round,” she muttered, “the wire should be at the bottom.”

With another eye roll Tenley turned the handset the right way up. “Hello—” she leapt back, dropping it as a high-pitched whistle pierced her ear. Even Jenn had to cover hers as shrieking filled the lighthouse. Since its construction all the systems in the lighthouse were connected to Irongate University’s AI experiment - HULL - so although struggling once again to reach a screen, Jenn was able to analyze the signal.

“Looks like whatever’s coming through is unusually high energy,” Jenn winced, unsure if her ears were bleeding as she rapidly tapped keys, “trying to compensate… there!”

[keyringmogai]

Inhomisallion

[PT: Inhomisallion. End PT.]

[Flag ID: A flag with seven, equally-sized, horizontal stripes. From top to bottom, the stripes are dull pink, dull red, dull orange, dull yellow, dull green, dull indigo, and dull violet. The flag has a dark overlay both on the left and the right, which curves inwards and leaves the area not covered by the overlay looking like a circle. In the middle of the flag there is the allion symbol, which has six large petal-looking shapes surrounding a small circle in the middle. The symbol is dull red with a black outline. End flag ID.]

Pronunciation: [ɪnˌhoʊˈmɪzˈæliən] or [in-ho-miz-ahl-lee-uhn]

Inhomisallion: An allion which can only be understood through the lens of having internalized homophobia.

This term is exclusive to those who experience internalized homophobia, but does not exclude any particular orientation or gender. For example, a transfem straight person may be inhomisallion if they identify as such.

Etymology: In from internalized, hom from homo, mis from homomisia, allion as the suffix for allion terms.

Colors: modified from gilbert baker 7-stripe. red symbolize shame. chose overlay template symbolize shame also.

never intentional recoin. if term already exist, please tell. term good faith. 🐾 hope all with internalized homophobia have safe happy pride month. your orientation beautiful and good.

tag: @allion-archive @radiomogai

[elizabethplaid]

Distant blackwork - Nov 22, 2022

Guess who’s a fool for not checking her camera before going to the library! Yep, it’s me! Apparently, I left the telephoto lens on the camera, and I didn’t bring the regular one with me. 

Large biscornu: Oberon (14 count aida) from Rainburst Embroidery

background panel: Oberon (18 count aida)

blank-center square: improvised pattern, 18 count aida (cream)

squares-and-hexagons square: riff on McDuff’s Sampler by Rainburst Embroidery, 18 count aida (cream)

widdle black biscornu: improvised pattern, 18 count aida

tiniest biscornu, pink and green: 14 count aida

blue squares and circles in hoop: improvised pattern, 14 count aida

Is it possible to photograph miniatures with a telephoto lens? Yes, but it ain’t fun. I had to stand like 4 feet away, and my hands are always unsteady. I also couldn’t get a downward angle, because of the distance requirement.

[korgbelmont]

Male MC (Nick Taylor) x Stacy Green

Part 1

Having built up a reputation as a Nighthunter, Nick Taylor is a name known in some circles, and one of those circles has some information regarding a very ancient artifact...

Written in the Present Tense

Tagging: @jerzwriter, @choicesficwriterscreations

Warnings: Mentions of pain

Word Count: 1792

Notes: I don’t own these characters, they are the property of Pixelberry Studios.

The Blade created on cooltext.com

This is set a few years after the events of It Lives Beneath

As Stacy sits at her desk working on an article, Nick finishes up on a journal entry from his last case.

Nick - (Right, there we go.)

He closes the book, and just as he goes to get a drink, his phone rings in his pocket. Not wanting to disturb Stacy, he steps out and answers, holding the phone to his ear.

Nick - Hey, Ives.

Ivy - Evening, Nick. You able to meet tomorrow, got something for you.

Nick - I guess I can. What's this about?

Ivy - It's a bit difficult to explain without what I have. I'll be over tomorrow.

Nick - Uh, okay then. I'll see you in the morning then.

Ivy - Have a good night, Nick.

The phone beeps to signal hanging up and Nick heads back in, confused.

Stacy - Everything okay?

Nick - Yeah. That was Ivy. Says she has something for me. Gonna be over in the morning.

He looks over at her now black computer screen.

Nick - Article all finished?

Stacy - Not yet. But I've got to that point where words aren't looking like words anymore. So calling it a night.

Nick - Fair enough. Calling it a night sounds like a good idea.

Nick locks the door and the two switch everything off before heading to bed.

The following morning, Nick makes his morning coffee when someone knocks on the door. Knowing who it is, he goes to unlock it, opening it to Ivy.

Ivy - Morning.

Nick - Come on in.

Nick moves to the side to let Ivy in, closing the door behind her. She sets her bag down and takes a laptop out, opening it up. Stacy steps out, grabbing her own coffee.

Stacy - Morning, Ivy.

Ivy - Hi, Stacy. How you doing?

Stacy - Same as always.

Her computer loaded, Ivy opens up a file and then takes out a manila file from her bag, looking at Nick.

Ivy - So this portrait came into our possession a few days ago, but it's a weird one.

She hands Nick the file. Opening it, he takes out two photos of the portrait, a warrior in armour with a sword. Except in one, the sword blade is pure white with a white aura around it, and in the other, it is fully black and surrounded by shadow.

Nick - Okay... that is weird.

Ivy - Check this.

She opens a video file of her with Krom and Garrus.

THEN

Garrus, Ivy, and Krom look over the portrait, the sword seeming to change every time they blink.

Garrus - I've never seen this kind of magic...

Krom - You me both.

Ivy - Hang on, I'm going to try something.

She uses her hand to cover the camera lens and when she removes it, the sword in the portrait has changed. She does it again. And again the sword has changed.

NOW

Nick and Stacy share a look of confusion and Nick looks over the photos of the portrait again.

Nick - What do we know about the warrior?

Ivy - That's where you come in. I was able to get a meeting with Kamilah Sayeed, but I was hoping you could go in my place. I want to try and learn what I can about the portrait back in New Orleans.

Nick - Right. So you want me to go to New York?

Ivy - Actually, she'll be in Portland tomorrow. I said I would send a Nighthunter in my place. And you're respected enough.

Stacy - We could make a small trip out of it. Been a while since we went away somewhere.

Nick smiles at Stacy and nods.

Nick - Alright, I'll go meet with the Queen of Vampires. Never thought I'd be saying that.

Ivy - Thank you.

After going through a few more details, Ivy takes her leave, opening up a portal to her library in New Orleans and steps through. The portal closes and Nick turns to Stacy.

Nick - Need to figure out how she does that. It would make things so much easier.

Stacy turns back to the file, looking at the two photos of the painting.

Stacy - This is so weird.

Nick - One word for it.

Stacy - You got any theories?

Nick shakes his head.

Nick - Nothing.

Stacy - Must be important though if Kamliah Sayeed's name is in the mix.

Nick - We'll find out tomorrow. Gonna be hard to concentrate for the rest of the day though.

Stacy puts the photos back in the folder before looking over at Nick.

Stacy - How about we pack and head out this evening? Have a day out before meeting with her.

Nick - I can get behind that.

Stacy - Come on.

She holds out her hand and Nick takes it, heading upstairs to pack.

Opening the door to their hotel room, Nick sets his and Stacy's bags down as she looks around the room.

Stacy - Good view.

Nick - Yeah?

Stacy - Yeah.

Ditching his jacket, Nick collapses on one of the chairs in front of the tv, letting his arms hang over the edge. Stacy sets herself down on his lap, looping her arms around his neck and kissing his cheek.

Stacy - You okay?

Nick - Tired. I could actually fall asleep right here.

Stacy - You could, or you could sleep in the bed and be comfier.

Laughing, Nick scoops Stacy up and carries her over to the bed, setting her down. Keeping her arms around him, Stacy pulls Nick down, pressing her lips to his before letting go so he can get back on his feet. They quickly change into pajamas and soon switch off for the night.

The next evening, Nick and Stacy arrive at the hotel address given to them and step in. They're stopped by bodyguards the moment they step into the building, their eyes the giveaway sign of being Vampires.

Guard 1 - You Nick Taylor?

Nick - Yeah. Here to see Kamilah Sayeed.

The guard puts his finger on his earpiece.

Guard 1 - The Nighthunter is here. He also has a girl with him.

There's a moment of silence before the guard nods and then gestures to the couple to follow him to an elevator. After an awkwardly silent elevator ride, the guard steps to the side and they step out to a penthouse suite.

Nick - Damn... This is something.

A door opens and a woman the couple have only seen in photos stands before them. Kamilah Sayeed, Queen of the Vampires.

Kamilah - Mr Taylor. And...

She looks at Stacy.

Stacy - Stacy Green.

Kamilah extends her hand out to Stacy, who shakes it.

Kamilah - I've read some of your articles. You're quite the journalist.

Stacy - Thank you!

Kamilah - Shall we?

She walks over to two sofas facing each other with a table in between and takes a seat on one while Nick and Stacy sit opposite.

Kamilah - I assume you've been made aware of the painting by Ivy.

Nick - The sword changes with each blink.

Nick presents the two photos given to him by Ivy.

Stacy - What's the deal with the sword?

Kamilah - It's the blade of Morella.

Nick - Morella? As in Blades of Light and Shadow Morella? It's real?!

Kamilah - That series is inspired by a story from Morella. Like Lamrian, it's a realm separated from ours. But this sword has found it's way into our realm. And is currently in possession of a collector, who, unironically, calls himself the Collector, is known for having questionable methods of acquisition.

Stacy - So he's a thief?

Kamilah - That's one word for him. Ivy and I would like to see it out of his possession and placed somewhere safe.

Nick - You want me to steal it.

Kamilah - Not alone. You'll be working with two others chosen by me. Another Nighthunter and an Attuned.

Nick mulls the words over, if the television series is anything to go by, then the sword is dangerous. It doesn't take him long to come to a decision.

Nick - I'll take the job.

Kamilah - Just like that?

Stacy - Just like that.

Kamilah - Well then. You'll need these.

Kamilah produces invitations and slides them across the table.

Kamilah - There's a gala tomorrow night. You'll be crashing the party, as they say. Once the sword is secured, return here.

Nick - We will.

Kamilah - The others will meet you at the gala. Miss Green, you'll remain here with me whilst the others are acquiring the blade. I'm interested to learn about some of the details behind your articles.

Stacy - Oh!

Nick smiles to himself as the shock of the sentence hits Stacy.

The next evening, Nick looks around at some of the artefacts on display, looking for any sign of the blade, upstairs, fellow Nighthunter, Katherine watches the guests as Nick walks the floor. Outside, Atlas Ernhardt watches the Collector as he speaks with guests. The three of them remaining in contact through earpieces.

Atlas - Taylor, any luck yet?

Nick - No sign of the sword yet.

Katherine - Nothing on display up here either.

Atlas - So it's not on display, makes it easier to take.

Nick - But harder to find.

Nick looks around, finding a door not being guarded and slips through. He checks each room, opening the doors slightly. And soon he comes across one with more artefacts and wooden boxes.

Katherine - This looks like the room.

Nick - Aaah!

Nick jumps out of his skin from Katherine's voice behind him and flashes his middle finger at her.

Katherine - You wound me.

They enter the room and Nick uses his phone torch to illuminate in front of him. He soon comes across a longer wooden box and pries it open. Removing the fabric wrappings, an Obsidian Sword lie in front of him.

Nick - Got it!

He sets his phone down and takes the sword in hand, but a stinging sensation begins travelling up his hand. Dropping the sword, Nick falls to his knees as the pain spreads.

Katherine - Taylor!

When Katherine reaches him, Nick is no longer how he was. His hair black and his skin grey with black veins along his hands and neck. When he stands, she sees the white's of his eyes are now black and his iris's greyer than before.

Katherine - Oh no...

Atlas - What is it?

Nick takes the sword up again and a swirl of shadows engulfs him. Once they spread, Nick is gone.

Katherine - Atlas, we need to leave...