#can't do the ONE thing I usually rely on to kill time in a fun not depresh spiral way

[imwritesometimes]

being able to play sims again would fix me

[nymphbroadcast]

Savanaclaw x MC! like Carmilla Carmine

⊹Sinopsis⊹ೃ🐾⋆ The Savanaclaw boys with a MC! Or Yuu like Carmilla Carmine.

⊹Relationship⊹ೃ🐾⋆ fall in love/ Free of interpretation.

⊹¡FEM! MC/Yuu/Lector ⊹ೃ 🐾⋆

⊹Clarifications: Instead of the reader being a trafficker like Carmilla, she will be the inventor/creator of ''angelic'' weapons, she will not have daughters as in the series, however it will be said that she acts as a mother to those who are younger than her. Again, I don't specify MC's age! so that you are free to think about the race of MC! as you like, I'm also relying on the theory that Carmilla is a demon inspired by a Swan and scissors, just because I think it's a good idea :³

⊹Carmilla's Analysis⊹ೃ 🐾⋆

• She is someone physically and mentally agile, she is protective of what she loves as she is with her daughters and even with a close friend like Zestial, she is serious in her work, everything she does is motivated by love since she knows that it is the best way to motivate herself and win, she is extremely skilled in physical fighting, she is intelligent as a skilled weapons engineer, she respects her superior and elder figures as shown with her fellow Overlords however she does not tolerate disrespect from anyone even if it is someone with the same or higher status, she does not like to be involved in other people's problems, however she is willing to help without getting directly involved, she does not believe in mediocrity or people's ridiculous excuses, she has a strong maternal side, she is capable of everything only for those she really loves, apparently she likes dancing and especially ballet, she usually motivates with some harshness but it is always necessary, she is imposing and inspires respect without necessarily being aggressive, she is observant and can easily identify weaknesses in others, Despite her temperament, she is a good leader and is wise in her decisions.

Leona Kingscholar

🦁 Leona is terrified, we know that the women of Sunset Savanah are much stronger than the males, and even though you are not from Sunset Savanah but from "another world" it is obvious that you can kick his butt if you want.

🦁 (Ch 2) When Leona enters overblot and uses his magic to attack fortunately you are fast and strong enough to dodge and block all his attacks and use your ballet slippers made of angelic steel to cut parts of the Phantom from his Blot.

🦁 (Ch 2) At the end of the fight, you agree to help Leona even if he doesn't want to, so do us a favor and pull him with you and teach him that he should do things for himself and not to seek the approval of others.

🦁 Leona begins to compare you to a swan, your elegant but strong movements remind him of it, not to mention your elegance even in combat with someone, sometimes you remind him of Vil, the difference is that you don't irritate him... not that much.

🦁 You say you are an inventor? Well, it's nothing new... and what things do you invent? weapons? weapons capable of killing immortal beings with different celestial abilities and almost incalculable powers?...

🦁 ...okay now Leona is not considering, you can create weapons that kill celestial beings... would you make one that can hurt a Dragon Fae?... oh don't give him that look! It's just curiosity.... maybe that skill of yours will come in handy sometime.

🦁 Leona sees your interactions with the ''juniors'' and doesn't know very well how to react, you are protective and agile in caring for and correcting them, you instruct them with love and discipline, you may be reminding him of a strong and dedicated mother... he thinks that maybe when you have your own children you will be great as a mother.

🦁 Leona sees you dance and can't help but admire you, your movements are precise and elegant at the same time, you are so beautiful dancing when you think no one is watching, maybe he makes fun of you a little with that characteristic smile of his.

🦁 Are you signing up for Magift? If you are interested, join the club and kick their ass, I guarantee that most of them will be more captivated by your elegance and skill than in the game itself, and if you look at Leona you can see him totally in love with your legs. (No joke, now he's sure he won't get mad if you ever kick him)

🦁 He is still lazy, so every time you get to wherever he is sleeping, pick him up and take him with you to class, don't let him rest until he gathers fruits of his efforts, only then can you caress his soft hair while he rests on your lap.

🦁 Speaking of Leona's favorite ''activity'', you are now this lazy lion's soft swan feather pillow, your hands work magic on his head and your whole body is soft even with your well exercised physique, now he could even roll his tail on your leg or waist depending on what is closest to him, you are a comfort to this man.

🦁 You become his supervisor, his lover and his motivation, you at his side as a beautiful, strong and talented woman, they become the king and queen of the board, you help him to improve and grow at his side, you also take care of him and you correct, please this man begins to think that everything can be worth it if with this he can build a new pride with you by his side.

🦁 So you take the opportunity, when you see the servants who compared Leona as a child with his brother you definitely use your sharp words against those idiots, almost as sharp as your slippers and when you take them to ask Leona for forgiveness, you have this man kneeling and with a ring just for you.

Ruggie Bucchi

🍩 I don't know much about Ruggie, appreciate my effort 🥲

🍩 Ruggie sees you as an authoritarian figure, similar to Leona but without his "demotivation."

🍩 Ruggie sometimes needs your seriousness, you may have to be the one to correct him for his questionable attitudes.

🍩 You have to motivate Riggie to work honestly, assign him to do some work, whether it's yours or your colleagues', and thus earn rewards honestly.

🍩 It doesn't take long for Ruggie to realize that you are what he needs, your rigidity and discipline clash with his harmful habits and they already have a little laughing hyena accompanying you in everything you need.

🍩 Sorry it's so short, I repeat that I don't know much about Ruggie nor am I a big fan of him 😭

Jack Howl

🐺 We know what Jack is like, personally I'd say you'd get along well with him.

🐺 You and Jack have a lot in common, you are both serious about what you do, physically strong, etc...

🐺 I would tell you that you have officially become the owner of this adorable puppy, you are perfect for him and he is totally in favor of taking care of you when you can't do it yourself.

–(Moment of Carmilla's mental breakdown, after the Overlords meeting and the "fight" with Velvet)

🐺 You and Jack organize to have a good training schedule together, it's funny because you're perfectly capable of matching his pace, the others in the background wonder if you're really human.

🐺 Jack never gets bored of seeing you in action, against Overblots or not, you always look amazing, your movements are strong and precise, you can see him wagging his little tail but don't mention it to him or he will deny it... Clumsily but still.

🐺 You are Jack's versatility, he has a tendency to be stubborn and too straight at times, fortunately you are there to remind him that the anus vine is squared and he will thank you, not out loud of course but wait for his actions to tell you, this little wolf appreciates you so much.

Nymph's Note:

Sorry for the delay, I have been going through a small anxiety crisis and I have tried to reduce what I can consider as a trigger, however here I finished a little of what I had committed to!

I Hope you enjoyed!

Remember to tune in, end of this broadcast!

Savanaclaw Dorm x MC! like Carmilla Carmine Done!

Next: Diasomnia Dorm x MC! Like Vaggie???

[transformers-synergize]

so is the first chapter just human characters? ):

No, it's not just human characters. Chapter 1 part 2 will be posted tomorrow, and it has robots, please be patient.

If you are a transformers fan who dislikes any humans in transformers media for the fact they are human, then Synergize is probably not going to be your thing, sorry. Synergize focuses a lot on human and cybertronian relationships. Synergize is an ensemble cast with multiple characters who get a decent amount of focus, some of those characters being human, I intend to put just as much care and time into developing the human characters as I do the bots. The human characters are not an afterthought or something I'm adding just because I felt like it, they are important members of the cast, both the human cast and cybertronian cast are essential for each other development/character arcs. cybertronian in Synergize are written to be much more alien than in most Transformers media. Synergize's cybertronains have more alien-like behavior, morals, instincts, social dynamics, social structure, anatomy and society, having human characters to contrast that help better show the alienness of the bots. Along with having a character who can learn about the bots alongside the reader and ask questions a cybertronian character wouldn't. It also creates a lot of interesting human bot dynamics and plot opportunities.

Human characters also have an extreme amount of plot utility, Sure, they can't fist-fight a giant bot, but that is not the only way a character can be useful. They have more knowledge on Earth than the bots, so even an unintelligent human has at least a little useful Earth knowledge a cybertronian wouldn't know. Earth is built to cater to humans, and my bots don't have Haloform, so if they need something done only a human can do, then they gotta rely on a human to do it. Humans are also great for disguise, and my bots are trying to stay hidden, getting pulled over and having a human in the driver's seat is way less suspicious than a car driving itself. Humans are small and quiet even compared to small cybertronian, humans joints and internals usually don't make as much noise, along with humans having a much fainter energy signal, making them perfect for stealth and sneaking around. A human might not be able to fight a robot, but if they are mechanically inclined, they could learn how to fix/repair cybertronians. Once you know how to fix cybertronians, you can usually figure out sneaky little ways to break one without needing to be a giant robot (though you still have to risk getting close to one). Humans are immune to some very common cybertronian security systems and weapon types, magnets, EMP devices, malware, and stasis tech, yes, humans are squishy, but you're not gonna kill one with magnets or EMP blast or by trying to give them malware. Also, humans are also just smaller and can fit in more places. Humans are clever creatures, and even though they aren't as strong as a bot, it doesn't mean they can't contribute a lot. Not every plot features human characters, but most do because of both their utility to the plot and the fun dynamics they have with many of the bot characters.

Synergized as a story, both plot structure-wise and thematically, does not work without human characters.

[amostimprobabledream]

Thoughts on Beetlejuice Beetlejuice *SPOILERS*

The Good:

The reveal that Astrid could see ghosts this whole time and that Jeremy was actually a ghost was genuinely really good - I didn't see it coming but in hindsight it was so obvious. The whole bit about him trying to trick Astrid into giving her life for his was so fun.

Michael Keaton was a treat to watch as usual - all the actors seemed to be having the times of their lives, especially him, Willem Dafoe and Monica Bellucci. I was actually laughing out loud at some of the scenes he was in and I appreciate that they used him sparingly. I also thought the gag of Willem Dafoe's character being a former actor who liked pretending to be a cop and his secretary kept fetching him coffees and feeding him his lines was genuinely funny.

I was on the fence about Astrid because from what I got from the promotional material she seemed pretty bratty and whiny, but I think her frustrations with Lydia and her life in general were generally fairly understandable and I think she and Winona Ryder had great chemistry. Also I want Astrid's wardrobe, that sweater-dress with the bike shorts and boots? An absolute serve.

It's cool that Tim Burton and Michael Keaton both insisted on building sets instead of relying on CGI to do everything, I think that one of the charming things about the first movie was the handmade feel of the sets and they managed to capture a lot of it in this one. I mean, they do use SOME CGI, especially where Beetlejuice is involved, but I think it's good they didn't just rely on greenscreens.

Banger soundtrack, as usual, thanks to Danny Elfman.

Killing off Charles and Delia was surprising but I thought it was handled in a good way. I thought the actor who played Charles had died or something and when I googled why he wasn't in the sequel I think they did the best they could with the character. Catherine O'Hara sort of held together the Lydia/Astrid subplot for me, especially when she says to Lydia, "What happened to the angsty goth girl who gave me so much trouble? I think you need to find her!" The Bad: - This movie really made me appreciate the Maitlands more. The whole thing with the first movie is that Adam and Barbara ground it and give it a sense of normalcy - they have random, sudden, unfair deaths and as the audience we're thrown into the confusing world and rules of the afterlife as much as they are. In this movie I feel like everyone is too busy trying to be different flavours of wacky to feel real, which is fine for people like Beetlejuice or Delores but the human characters didn't feel like that had substance like the Maitlands.

Am I the only one who felt like this film felt kind of like a character assassination of Lydia?? I love Winona Ryder to death (pun unintended), but I feel like all she did in this movie is make that pop-eyed shocked face and say exposition. I'm sorry but am I meant to believe that Lydia Deetz, the only person in the first movie who could communicate with Adam and Barbara, called Otho, Lydia and her dad out on their shit multiple times and had the balls to make a deal with Beetlejuice to save the former, would seriously let some creepy man pressgang her into marriage? Not to mention I can't remember a single line of dialogue from Lydia, she's kind of been demoted to just being a depressed goth mom and that's kind of it. Also I felt like the way she was using her power for a TV show felt OOC when she was the only one who opposed the haunted house idea in the original. (Also Winona Ryder's hair looked terrible in the movie, it made sense for teenaged Lydia to have those gel spikes but on a Lydia who's hit fifty they look ridiculous. Like what, did her fashion sense never evolve past age fifteen?)

There were WAY too many subplots. I genuinely really liked the subplot with Astrid and Jeremy, and I think Beetlejuice and his ex-wife had a lot of potential, but the end of the movie was like Tim Burton forgot to keep track of every subplot he had going on and wrapped them up really unsatisfyingly.

Monica Bellucci's character was WAY underused. Like. I absolutely loved her design and stuff but she was walking around the whole movie attacking random people we don't give a shit about, and then in the climax she just stands there and lets herself get eaten. (That staple-face look would make a fire Halloween costume though.) I feel like the subplot with Lydia's creepy boyfriend/producer should have been cut so she had more time to shine.

The dialogue. Some of it was fine but other times phrases showed up that are so obviously going to become dated in a couple of years, it sounded like adults trying way too hard to be edgy and relatable to Gen Z viewers, like when Astrid goes "the afterlife is so random!" or that one woman describing something as "non-triggering". I don't remember the dialogue in the first movie feeling so buzzword-heavy.

Beetlejuice felt less like a threat this time. In the first movie he's more of a clear-cut antagonist but this time he's very clearly on Lydia's side and even dispatches all the other bad guys, so I think some of his more sinister energy was lost here.

The ending was really dumb ngl. It feels like it's setting up for a third one but Tim Burton was like "lol not gonna happen" so I have no idea why he chose to ending it like that.

[adarkrainbow]

Is there any significant difference between the French ogre and the British giant?

Both seem to fulfill the role of half savage monster, half evil aristocrat, cannibalistic antagonist to child protagonists.

Some fairy tale adaptations even seem to mix them up, like the giant from Disney's Fun and Fancy Free who can shapeshift just like the ogre from Puss in Boots, or Into the Woods that treats giants and ogres like synonyms

The two are basically "cultural" cousins if you will. And indeed the giants that pop up in British fairytales tend to be confused with ogres. Most notable being the giant from "Jack and the Beanstalk" who is regularly called an "ogre". (I usually invoke him as one of the two "foreign ogres" example, the other being the witch from Hansel and Gretel which is basically an ogress in all but name)

And as you pointed out, the giants of British folklore and fairytales do have the same tendency to eat people and ownership of great treasures and magical objects, plus they are villains that must be defeated or killed in the end. (Mind you, I don't think shapeshifting was a traditional power of giants, I don't recall encountering shapeshifting giants in British folklore or fairytales - probably more of a modern invention, unlike ogres which are attested as shapeshifters in French and Italian folklore).

That's the same way for the trolls of several Norse countries too! They also fill this specific niche/archetype in fairytale (hence why some troll are translated as "ogres" sometimes). They all answer to some sort of greater archetype lost down some Indo-European root I guess... It doesn't help that the ogres are often giants! Especially in the parts of France that were influenced by or shared culture with England - because one of the attested "cultural ancestors" of the ogre are the man-eating/man-killing giants of the Arthurian myth, which was shared by both France and England. As such, a lot of folktale ogres, and ogre in popular imagery, are giants or called as such.

Now, the thing is that while there is a kinship and overlap, it doesn't overtly mean they are the same - and that's the differences that are often too overlooked. The same way ogres and trolls are similar, and yet you can't say they're exactly the same. The very word "ogre" does not originally come from the English language, it was imported in English from the French - because the ogre is a purely Franco-Italian creature (ogre/orco). England has giants for ogres, and hags for ogresses, but not "ogres" per se - the same way "hag" is actually a unique British concept hard to translate in French. You can say "ogress" or "witch" but these two are but facets of a more complex entity.

Same with the ogre - which can be a giant... but sometimes is not a giant. Sometimes it is just some sort of cannibalistic sorcerer, or just a cannibal nobleman without even any real magical power. Other times it is an obese devil. Some times yet it is some vampire-werewolf.

I would say the significant difference relies in two things... A) The giant of England (and of fairytales as a whole) is not purely defined by man-eating. A giant can happen to eat humans, but there are giants that do not eat people. An ogre in France is primarily defined by the fact he eats people. That's what an ogre is all about. B) As I said before, a giant is defined as being a very large and tall humanoid. And while ogre are often depicted as giants, they are not exclusively giants and come in a variety of shape and sizes. Devils, wolf-men, witches, ugly sorcerers, cruel queens...

But yeah, giants, trolls, ogres, dragons, there's always this archetypal need for "frightening monster that hoards treasure, kind-of has magical powers, and eats humans".

[yanderes-galore]

Yandere platonic bendy with a darling who fell into the ink and came out as a perfect bendy (or a perfect toon) 😈

I didn't realize until I took this request I already had something with this plot. Yet to keep it different it will be fully platonic and you are a Bendy this time around.

The concept with a similar plot to this here

Yandere! Platonic! Bendy with Perfect Toon/Bendy! Darling

Short Concept

Pairing: Platonic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Stalking implied, Bendy forces you to be a sibling, Manipulation, Clingy behavior, Violence implied, Isolation, Protective behavior.

You can imagine the confusion Bendy feels when he sees a... copy of himself.

After what felt like hours, you emerged after falling into the ink.

One moment he was following a human around, thinking you'll make a great new plaything friend...

Then you fell into the murky depths.

Looking like his own charming self.

You must be something pretty special if this form was chosen for you.

Bendy takes a moment to circle you when he meets you.

You're shivering while he scans you over with his cartoon eyes.

You look like a cartoon Bendy, his usual form.

The issue is you most likely lack the monster form.

Bendy is hesitant of you at first.

Really anyone would be if they saw a clone of themselves.

You were different from all those other ink clones, however.

Instead of being an empty and violent husk... you're full of life.

You may look like Bendy but you keep your own personality.

Bendy doesn't want to kill you due to still wanting a playmate for lack of a better term.

A platonic Bendy would end up adopting you as a sibling in a way.

What's a better companion than a sibling?

You clearly didn't ask for any of this.

Not only are you forced to be an ink demon like Bendy...

But the little devil darling also wants to make you his sibling.

You're scared and confused.

Bendy most likely notices this and tries his best to comfort you.

Relax! You'll enjoy your time in the studio.

He'll promise to protect you.

Bendy is going to be prankster towards you but he does it out of fun.

He doesn't intend to harm you with his pranks, he is just a bit mischevious.

Bendy would be protective of you.

You're a new cartoon and may be targetted for a few things.

You look like him...

You can't defend yourself...

You have no idea how anything here works.

Bendy constantly tells you not to worry.

He'll be your guide down here!

What else are siblings for?

Bendy may be malicious towards others but he's happy to have you around.

Bendy is actually quite lonely down here and the idea of someone like you beside him is pleasant.

His loneliness shows when he hugs you at times.

He gives long hugs, muttering about how he's never had a sibling before.

Boris is his best friend, Alice is like a rival, but he's had no siblings.

Bendy would manipulate you to only rely on him using scare tactics.

After all, you aren't entirely immortal.

He also hopes the ink makes you forget about your human life.

He has the perfect story already....

Bendy finds his long lost twin!

Even if he's forced you into the role he feels you'll get used to it.

Bendy would defend you from anyone and anything.

He still has the ability to become Beast Bendy and only uses it when you can't see it.

Similar to other yandere Bendy scenarios he only wants you to see him one way.

The cute cartoon that cares for you when no one else will.

Even if the facade is shattered there isn't much you can do about it.

You're stuck here like him, if he says you're siblings, that's the role you'll be forced to follow.

[justlarkin]

Mentioning some events that I liked in the midst of beefing with LWs' writers. It's mostly due to very specific things that occur in the events rather than the events themselves to be completely honest with you.

-Casual and fun beach event. Can't go wrong there. Good moments envolving most of the characters. Nomad, Azazel, Kengo, and Oniwaka in particular for me. They deprived me of Azazel content, so this is my only morsel to latch onto. Plus we got SQ Galore, including ones for Mononobe and Lil Salomon.

-The softcore discussion of gender dysphoria was a pleasant surprise and I liked the parallels drawn between MC and Astarte as "trophies". In particular, I liked how this event revealed how much the other guys actually love MC. They were completely indifferent towards Astarte while she was the beloved, which was super weird to her, and when MC switched places with her, they immediately clocked that something was off, but not because they could visually tell MC was obviously not Astarte. They just thought Astarte was more radiant than usual. They were all over MC and giving away their shells because they're MC, not because they were the beloved.

-That scene where Heracles falls into Narcissus' Pond and he comes to the realization that his narcissism and cowardness was what led to Hylas' fate. He thought that a hero of his caliber was too precious to even risk being lost to the naiads, especially not for a guy who was practically beneath him. Heracles put himself before the life of his friend who was willing follow him to hell and back, abandoning him, and he regrets it. The parallels to Hylas' abduction with Heracles' fall as well as dialouge and narration as MC dives after him are an absolute banger. "I knew. I knew you'd come. Not by another's comand but your own free will. Your radiance makes me want to weep. Before you, the thought of the man who failed to follow Hylas makes me want to cry." MC took the leap Heracles never did for Hylas, making them a better person than himself. Such a great moment. Absolutely adored it.

-First of all, exile reveal. Second of all, the reveal that Shiro's crush is more of an all-consuming OBSESSION. Always thinking of them. Always following them whatever path they decide to take. Knowing that they relied on him was his greatest source of happiness. He wanted to help them, to shoulder any and all of their burdens in the hopes that they would eventually feel the same way as him. Shiro was desperately striving for an insane, unhealthy co-dependent relationship where MC validates him by constantly needing him to help them and it's just ?!?!? This came way out of left field.

-Algernon. Algernon. Algernon. I absolutely loved it when he randomly got jealous and tried to change the topic when MC called Yamasachihiko hot. I love that he found someone who could keep up with him, an equal, in MC. I loved that they did a little tapdance routine together while killing the slimes. Oh. And Hombre Tigre. I'm not really a big fan of him. I just really like how interesting his dynamic with Quetzalcoatl is compared to everyone else. Hombre adoring Tezcatlipoca so much that he couldn't even begin to grasp why Quetzalcoatl would leave him behind and envying him for being the one who could consume Tezcatlipoca's thoughts and breaking him in such a manner.

-Sherlock Nomad and Assistant MC, the event we had all been waiting on. Anyways, y'all should know why I liked this event. It's that one scene where they beat Hermes' and he's just sitting on the floor like a pouty little kid when MC grabs his hand and he continues his little tantrum by telling them to let go while doing nothing to stop them. Hermes finally found a friend who could look past all of his lies and accept him with MC and I'm very happy for the bastard.

-That whole chase scene where Balor reveals that he's actually been a twat this entire time and he goes after MC, trying to capture them, is mwah. Love it. Also when Boogeyman triggered that ratfuck, Balor's, PTSD with his sacred artifact just the reveal that Lugh never had a choice in the matter and that Balor caused this fate to be forced upon him, something that he feared for himself in the first place. And the reveal that Balor didn't exactly regret killing his grandson. It was just the fact that Lugh didn't choose to fight him himself.

-The way Vapula was completely indifferent to his golemns until the very end where they're all silently gazing out into the sea after Sand Dragon self-deleted while following orders and are clearly fucked up about what they just witnessed, truly understanding how morbid Sand Dragon's existence was and the inevitability of his death, when MC turns to Vapula and says "Vapula.... We never got to name him" and Vapula just starts BAWLING.

-Oh look. A well executed plot twist. Loved the way that they conveyed Horus and Seth's true bond through how compatible and fluidly their memories were able to work together to fight against the group. Then there's the use of Seth's old memories to reveal that Horus had been on his side the entire time and that he was even the one who let him flee Duat. Also, an expansion on what seemed to be such a simple rule. Being able to control the sand being way more powerful than expected through a technicality.

-This one might actually be my favorite event. No. Not because it's a Fuxi or bird event. Shut your slut mouth. Banger music, great story, great picks for the characters and the dynamics, an exile reveal. Fuxi being so unhinged that he tries to fight literal children and Simurgh playing the straight man to his funny man will always be funny. Also, there was just that one moment where MC went "pull the trigger pussy" while Simurgh held a gun to their head and that's so based of them. Mostly dissapointed we didn't get more Nüwa lore.

[firestorm09890]

I've been trying to think of the best Organization XIII Limbus Company au... the Nobodies as LCB sinners would hypothetically be fun, but doesn't really work because the LCB relies on having a group of people of vastly different backgrounds, while the Organization has the majority of them coming from the same place (plus they parallel the Sephirot from LobCorp more than the sinners anyway). the Sinners in an Organization XIII situation might be interesting, though. and then there's Dante. their role in the story is most similar to Roxas's (woke up one day with no memories, was told that they were super important and given a job, everyone is so mean to them) except Dante is the manager so like. au where Dante has a keyblade? au where Dante is leading the Organization members? can't go the other way around because they would Not put a fucking 15-year-old in a manager position in the city. Xemnas leading the sinners though? random character swaps so there's a blend of 'em because the numbers match? but which ones are most interesting? anyway in lieu of actually coming up with anything here's a game I call "I can connect anything in my mind"

#1: Xemnas and Yi Sang - they talk like that… such is all I have to say - miss their friends a lot. Yi Sang got over it thankfully and managed to love his new companions. Xemnas did not

#2: Xigbar and Faust - won't stop hinting about stuff they know that you don't - this is secretly because they've lived several more lifetimes than anyone else

#3: Xaldin and Don Quixote - lances. though Don's lance is actually a lance meant for horseback and Xaldin's... aren't

#4: Vexen and Ryōshū - somewhat disturbing fervor for their craft (science and art respectively) - despite this, is somehow a parent - very bad things happen to the children

#5: Lexaeus and Meursault - the biggest one in the group - very intelligent, but usually defaults to following orders - what if I hit you very hard and you died

#6: Zexion and Hong Lu - um uh uhm Land of Illusion ooooo - raised in a very high-class family but the situation is fucking dire - what are you hiding…

#7: Saïx and Heathcliff - comparable to a wolf but secretly also comparable to a bunny - making envy their entire personality

#8: Axel and Ishmael - their hair being the color of sunset is a significant plot device; at dusk, I think of you - homosexual relations!!!!! - relationship to #7 is. uh. it’s

#9: Demyx and Rodion - act silly but I’m convinced it is only partially genuine and mostly to take attention of their problems (canon for Rodya, speculation for Demyx)

#10: Luxord and Dante - time and gambling go hand in hand babey!! - who the fuck are you. who did you used to be. tell me

#11: Marluxia and Sinclair - imagery that belongs in a stained glass window - this is moreso about Lauriam than Marluxia but: very pleasant but hoo BOY do not make them mad - broooo your gender - ...dare I say something about Cain

#12: Larxene and Outis - WILL say something terribly mean to you and call you a weak little baby - would kill all her teammates for one corn chip. except for one of them

#13: Roxas and Gregor - merely treated as the weapon they wield, both idolized and reviled for it - age 15 forced to kill

[longwombraider]

Mlp infection AU got me HARDDDD

so obviously I have to do a servamp version of it! I'll probably post a part 2 later but here are the characters and what I think their roles are in an infection au☺️

(Format is heavily inspired by @/mrsgendered on IG, creator of the Evergreen Infection Trails!)

—

Sloth Pair

Kuro- immune 

Health- 100% 

Stress: 80% 

Consciousness - 100% 

Servamps are now taking charge of being the Eve's main defense and offense since they're immune. He sees the fires everytime he closes his eyes

Mahiru - Uninfected, not immune

Health- Healthy, 96%

Stress: 87%

Consciousness: 100%

Mahiru has taken upon himself to start rescuing people and delivering supplies to people since he has a servamp, meaning he can be protected (as long as kuro can keep up) Hes trying to keep everyone chipper, but the stress is taking its toll on him. He should stop overworking or it'll be easier to infect his weakened body.

—

Envy Group

Mikuni- Uninfected, not immune

Health; Healthy, 98%

Stress: 80%

Consciousness: 100%

Mikuni is primarily worried for Misono, so he had been keeping an eye on Misono, helping him from the shadows. He doesn't fight, and no one knows what his true motives are. He appears from time to time, usually only approaching Mahiru or Misono to hand them intel or products Johannes had created to aid them. His whereabouts are constantly unknown.

Nowadays, he seems to not carry Abel around with him anymore. Mahiru wonders why...

Jeje- Immune

Health; Healthy, 100%

Stress: 60%

Consciousness: 100%

Follows Mikuni along and shoots down any infected down whenever Mikuni goes out. He never misses.

He's constantly seen around Mikuni's neck, alert and upright even in snake form. The infected had always gave him a feeling of disgust.

Johannes- ??? not immune

Health; Sickly, 87%

Stress: 90%

Consciousness: 97%

A prodigy researcher helping to discover a cure. Having a sickly body even before the infection doesn't help. His weakened body is further weakened due to his inability to fall asleep and his workaholic tendencies.

He constantly dons headphones to focus on his work, and not the pleas and groans echoing from the outside.

He trusts he is safe from the infected because it's Mikuni's shop. It should be safe, right?

—

Greed Pair

Licht- Uninfected, not immune

Health; Healthy, 95%

Stress; 88%

Consciousness: 100%

Licht has been worried about his parent's back in Austria. He can only have faith that they're still out there, alive. Took charge of offense, he, along with Lawless, patrols the borders and are usually on the front lines, fending the infected off. It's been getting difficult to keep up.

He hasn't played the piano for fun ever since. Screams and groans echo in his ears instead of musical notes.

Lawless - Immune

Health: Healthy, 100%

Stress: 87%

Consciousness: 100%

Together with Licht, they are sent to defend the area from the hordes of infected. The emotional stress is eating him from the inside out, and he can't help but rely on Licht to keep his emotions in check. He's worried because he can see Licht is starting to crack too.

A newly summoned rapier is used everytime they go into battle. It won't be good if it breaks halfway. Even magic has its limits.

—

Melancholy Team

Tsubaki- Immune

Health: Healthy, 100%

Stress: 60%

Consciousness: 100%

The camellias don't bloom anymore. He goes around, like a grim reaper, killing off any infected that had entered the late stages. He hopes it brings them peace.

The only thing keeping him rooted is his family of subclasses. He hopes they're doing well. He hasn't seen them since the infection began.

Belkia- Immune

Health: Healthy, 100%

Stress: 89%

Consciousness: 100%

A medic, helping to tend to the wounded and early infectees. He goes around with Tsubaki to rescue any possible injured, or to kill off the infected that breached the border.

He's tired. The injured and sick doesn't stop coming, and he's trying to give care to every one of his patients. Tsubaki and Belkia are what gives each other hope.

Sakuya- Immune

Health: Healthy, 100%

Stress: 78%

Consciousness: 100%

He accompanies Mahiru and helps him with whatever errand Mahiru needs to run. He doesn't need Mahiru needlessly putting himself at risk by going out and exposing himself to the infected and disease. He also helps Mahiru in distributing supplies and rescuing the sick or helping to fend off the infected.

He'll do whatever he needs to to keep Mahiru safe.

Higan- Immune

Health; ??

Stress:??

Consciousness: ??

Was sent by Tsubaki to other parts of Japan to help to contain the spread of the infection with his fire abilities while also killing off any infected. He was also ordered to keep in touch at least bi-weekly.

It had been 3 months since his last text. Nobody knows of his whereabouts.

Otogiri- Immune

Health: ??

Stress: ??

Consciousness; ??

Primarily the subclass used for assassination and the gathering of intel, she was tasked to find out more information about the virus and its origins. However, just like Higan, she hasn't been contactable in months, and is currently missing.

[tia-amorosa]

Sunset Died - Bunch Family

Final connection

While Judy and Victoria are spending time together, Lisa has also arrived at VJ's house. Again, it took a while for the door to open, because he had just taken a nap on the sofa. Once she was in the house, she immediately took the little something out of her pocket that her mother had given her and put it on the table in front of him. “Um… where did you get that??”.

Lisa told him what had happened before she went to him. That her mother had slipped her something and whispered in her ear that they should be careful with it and not mess it up “You really got that from your mother? Since when… o.k., I'd rather not know… phew”. Lisa had to smile a little, she had the impression that he was perhaps a little overwhelmed at that moment.

Her gaze went to him while he was still staring at the condom on the table. Then he inhaled and exhaled deeply, barely audibly. “Do you… I mean, now that it's there…"/ ‘Hmm… Do you want to?’ VJ stroked his chest nervously. ”Well… if I'm honest, I'm not really in the mood for it yet. I… caught a rabbit earlier and broke its neck with a stick"/ ‘Oh, that's tragic, really’/ ‘Huh? Hello, where's my Girlfriend who loves animals more than anything?’/ ‘I guess… she stayed outside the door’. (😏)

He looked at her and had to grin slightly at her statement. But then he saw something in her eyes that wasn't there before. She turned to him and put her arms around his neck. “Do you really have a guilty conscience now because you killed the little bunny or… Are you scared now? Where's my bad boy?”. She kissed him gently and looked at him intently. Then it was clear to him that she didn't want to take another step back. “hn…he only exists in this house"/ „well then…“.

When you're that young, you have certain ideas about how things might go the first time. But in the end, things usually turn out differently than you had imagined. Nevertheless, you were careful enough and kept giving the other person a sign to let them know that certain things were okay. “Today you can undress me completely, hnhn”. Lisa had fun teasing him a little.

VJ was happy to play along with her little games. But then he looked at her for a moment longer. “What… What is it? Don't you want more?"/ ”I want so many things, Lisa. But what I don't want is to stay here forever. I'd love to run away with you. But we can't get away from here.” . VJ often talked about freedom when the two of them were alone in a conversation. And she could clearly see this longing for freedom in his face at that moment. She tilted her head a little and stroked his face “then let's… make the best of it until that's possible, babe… OK?”.

This answer seemed to be enough for VJ for the time being. He knew that he could rely on her word. But at this moment, he didn't want to think about the past or the future, just about the here and now. . And so the bad boy finally had the opportunity to show another side of himself. A gentle, sensual one. She knew he was capable of it. And she knew what it looked like inside him. He's not always as strong as he pretends to be. Everyone has their weak moments. And Lisa was his strength and weakness at the same time.

While they were still in the process of providing protection, they thought back to the lessons for a moment… Back at school… When these wooden structures resembling male genitals stood on the table. The pupils were supposed to practise the correct use of a condom on them. Some of the young people had a red head and perhaps even made jokes about it. In practice, the whole thing looks a little different. You're nervous and worried that you might do something wrong. But with mutual trust, you can be successful together.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Later. Lisa was back home in time for dinner. “Oh, hello, I thought you'd come home a bit later”. Lisa smiled and shook her head. Then she looked at the food already on the table. “It's gotten cold. I think your soup is just the thing right now”. Judy gave her a grateful smile. “Mhm. are you all right otherwise?” Lisa knew what her mother seemed to be getting at. But she just shrugged her shoulders with a smile and let out a quiet happy “hmhm”.

The family enjoyed the warm soup that Judy had brought to the table today. It was also one of the things they had discussed with Victoria. They wanted to make sure that everyone here had enough supplies for the winter. And above all: warm meals.

A successful Sunday comes to an end. First and foremost for Judy, because she has managed to jump over her own shadow. Together with Victoria and a few others, she will ensure that everyone has a reasonably warm home over the next few days. And Lisa… She smiled to herself a little before going to bed, thinking about her pleasant afternoon.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

End of this Part

@greenplumbboblover 😊🙂

Note: I'm not lying when I say that I dreamt about them last night... They were out and about, it was early evening and VJ had a rather harsh tone and asked her to hurry up. I have no idea where they were going... hmm... That's how it is when the mind is intensely occupied with certain things, it wants to tell us something... A premonition? Or a suggestion?... We'll have to find out for ourselves.😉

[boolpropper]

Hey, I've been really enjoying looking at your posts! I'm trying to start modding the Sims 2 to be medieval too and I was wondering if you had any recommended custom content or mods or anything.

Hey! Omg totally, I'd love to share. You are too kind!!

This blog started as a way for me to keep track of my own stories, honestly. I play with the intention of creating stories for my own enjoyment, and if others find them compelling that is great! That said, I typically don't play with a ton of CC. Enough to immerse me. A lot of the time, I still use base game hairs, play maxis careers, etc. I can look past a lot of things because it is just my silly little game. Info under the cut so as not to bungle up or spam anyone's feed!

I do have a decent amount of build/buy CC and clothing CC. I have gotten a lot of it from Plumbob Keep! I have spent hours just looking through all the stuff in Sundry Goods and Wares, which is their forum for any CC -- clothing, wall paints, objects, you name it. I only got what I felt was necessary to immerse myself, like I said, and have found myself looking for specific other sets to accommodate specific story needs. For example, I rolled a random event that a fucking WAR has started, so now I need some cc bandages and what not. Generally, I like looking for The Sims Medieval conversions and Skyrim conversions. I also have gotten a lot of clothing for my medieval hood and my game in general from Skell. They have done so much work repo-ing and recoloring existing Maxis meshes in a way that doesn't gunk up your CC folder and fits seamlessly with the game. A lot of my other CAS CC (hair, accessories, makeup) comes from DeeDee! I really like their maxis matchy style and the high saturation of their color pallets.

I also use a set of defaults. I have a separate folder of my default replacements labeled "DR Medieval" that I swap in when I'm about to play my medieval hood. Things like plate and bowl recolors, aspiration failure objects, etc. Almighty Hat has some great ones.

I do play with a decent bit of mods, most of which just make the game run properly -- thing things like the nounlinkondelete, smarter EP check, etc. The rest are for my own benefit and storytelling, such as the 3-2 traits project! A lot of my gameplay mods come from MidgeTheTree. Usually I'm looking at mods that expand supernatural sims to make them more fun to play (more witch spells, more plantsim shenanigans, plantsim wings to make them look like fairies, alien telepathy, hereditary supernaturalism...the list goes on) and romance/queer mods. The latter is more to make my game a little more realistic and a bit more aligned with the relationships I like to see in stories. Not in a graphic sense, but more in a "I want my queer sims to have found family, my trans sims to have reproductive autonomy, and my gay sims to marry instead of being civilly joined" type thing.

For medieval specifically, I have a few of the Sun & Moon Star Factory Mods installed. They have A LOT and it is a little overwhelming at times to be honest -- I can't imagine playing with all of their amazing sets. But, some of them are crucial to my medieval immersion -- I want my sims to have a chicken or two, and to farm, and to craft. Many of them require other sets to run, or so they say -- usually this just means a texture from another pack is required, or a core function like collecting/autonomous behavior comes from a different mod. Often times you can do without some of the required mods of theirs -- for example, I have their fishing mod, and their guide says it requires the mining mod. I have no need for a mining mod now but might in the future, so for the time being I only downloaded the physical objects I needed to run that mod -- I need this bucket or whatever, and I'll delete the rest of the mod.

I also rely heavily on random events and dice rolls, tabletop RPG style, to form my gameplay. My sims are not, for example, actually going to kill each other in war. But I AM going to roll, "ok, what are the odds that this day goes in their favor?" Usually this looks like me writing my own scenarios and assigning them numbers/chances to roll, or sometimes I use other people's ROS, like Fir3Princ3ss' medieval ROS doc.

I hope this is helpful! I know it's a lot of info lol, but I tried my best to include links to creators I like. I just try to have fun with it and have a minimal impact on my game folders!

[nightcrawlerzincorporated]

I'm curious about what your opinion on dtamhd is?

I talked about it a bit when the episode first came out, but I'll summarize my thoughts for the new folk. This is all just my personal opinion/interpretation, feel free to disagree, etc etc

I really like DTAMHD! Dennis is my favorite boy and I enjoy being with him for 20 minutes and watching him bop around trying to keep his cool and be kind to people while he slowly loses his mind. I fuck very heavily with the idea that Dennis actually does try to be calm and kind most of the time, he just gets overwhelmed by his own emotions and lashes out because he has no healthy outlit or healthy coping mechanisms. And he refuses to accept help from others because he doesn't trust anyone but himself with his mind and body because growing up every adult in his life that we know of abused him in some way. So when he has a problem, like high blood pressure, he keeps it all inside and tries to deal with it himself, which just makes him more stressed and miserable. I really like all the little things in his fantasy that actually do highlight parts is his real life, like him having to be on Frank's family plan, forever tied to him and relying on him even as an adult, or him crying "nightmare nightmare please somebody help me". We love to see a man suffer on this blog. But that's the aspect of the episode people usually don't have a problem with. Let's get more controversial

My interpretation of the ending is that Dennis did not actually lower his own blood pressure, he's just so stuck in this fantasy version of his life where he has control and where things can't hurt him that he blocks out the negative information and replaces it with positive. I don't see it as a "win" for Dennis because I don't think he succeeded at all in actually changing anything. I think the fact that the gang's phone call at the end is the exact same one that's explicitly a fantasy is supposed to clue us in that this is fake too, the difference is Dennis isn't aware that it's still a fantasy because he's so wrapped up in his own idea of himself as someone who CAN lower his own blood pressure and someone who the gang needs and relies on. So he has these purposeful fantasies to help him cope, but those fantasies still bleed in to real life and color his perception of himself and the world even though he thinks to himself that he's in control of the fantasy. But much like how he can't actually control his physical health, he can't control his mental health either, and this constant fantasizing that he can do all these things has led him to see a distorted version of reality where he doesn't have to change or grow or learn. Which is kind of the core of the whole show if you think about it. I do agree completely with the criticism that Dennis actually having the ability to lower his own blood pressure is stupid, so I get hating the end if you see it as him returning to reality and being successful in his endeavors, but that's not how I see it, so it's not an issue for me.

I can also understand why people could see the heart eating scene as a serial killer Dennis thing and dislike it because of that, but that's not how I saw it at all. It's really goofy and cartoony and obviously not real when he rips the guy's heart out and eats it; it's not about killing someone (the guy doesn't even look hurt at all, he just stands there watching Dennis—I think a real murder fantasy would focus on the pain and dying but it’s not about that, it’s about defeating a metaphorical evil, not a literal man) it's about oversimplifying the world. There’s so many fun different ways you can interpret the CEO, like that he represents Dennis’ relationship with himself or with the world or with his parents, etc. I think if you detach yourself from the literal image and look at things in a more abstract, metaphorical way it makes the scene and the episode as a whole more enjoyable—but I understand that’s not something everyone is interested in doing.

That’s why it doesn’t just feel like a retelling of Glenn’s real life experience to me—I think there’s a lot of Dennis-specific ideas and systems (lol) throughout the episode that give it more symbolism and weight and makes it into a good (imo) narrative.

And I get why, if you’re the type of person who feels a Sunny season should end with a story about the entire gang, or about the gang helping one of them do something big, or something similar, DTAMHD would be disappointing, but I personally have no expectations for what a Sunny finale “should” be, so I wasn’t bothered by the fact that Dennis never opened up to anyone or had any real growth. I was just along for the ride.

I really enjoy the fact that the episode has a lot you can read into and a lot that’s open to interpretation, but that’s also the exact reason different people came away with such different views of the episode. I love when Sunny takes risks and makes unique episodes like this. And I like watching Glenn Howerton smear blood all over his mouth

[ben-talks-art]

12. Action Manga recommendations!

This is something that I'm kinda shocked it took me this long to start doing... Let's try talking about some of my favorite mangas from different genres and why I like them and maybe who could like them too.

I'm gonna try to split them up into what element I think stands out the most from each to make it easier to talk about them.

I'm will at least try to bring attention to some obscure series... But I make no promises. This will mostly just be me talking about the stuff I like, and hopefully one of them will end up being something new to someone.

Nice drama recommendations

These are the series that usually involves a lot of characters talking and debating over the morality of the plot. They usually have people asking things like "are we right? are we wrong? Why? Who's the real enemy? What are we fighting for?" and so on.

First, we have Radiant, a series about a magical world of mages and monsters with a main character that's kind of a middle ground between the two and is trying to seek this place called "radiant" which apparently is where all the monsters come from so he can find out why they are being sent to this world and possibly find a way to stop them from causing chaos to the people.

It's written by a French author and you can tell, the dialogue in this is phenomenal. I would highly recommend checking this out just to see the way these people talk with each other, it feels so natural and everyone is so charming. They all have amazing interactions.

Peach Boy Riverside is about a girl that receives a power that allows her to kill demons with little to no effort while also giving her a dangerous thirst for killing them. The problem is... The girl as well as plenty of other characters are actually friends with many of the demons so she has to constantly keep this power under control, on top of that, the boy she has a crush on also has that power and he just despises demons, so she keeps finding herself caught in the middle of everyone's anger and trying to find a solution that doesn't rely on just killing everything, even though her own power really wants to. It's really interesting.

Claymore is about this woman who works as a professional monster killer. She, as well as many other killers, go from place to place and get hired with the task to eliminate some creature that's attacking all the people, and once they're done, they just move to the next place.

What's cool about Claymore is that all the monsters used to be regular people, so a lot of time is dedicated to the heroes and the villains trying to understand each other and thus adding more layers to their fights. It basically go from the usual good vs evil to two individuals who just happen to be stuck in opposite situations and have to face one another. And some of the backstories for tons of the antagonists are just so freaking interesting. Everyone here feels like the main character of their own story. This is a really solid 10/10 cast of characters.

Crazy action recommendations

These are the series where the authors just enjoy going bonkers with the fights.

Dandandan is about a girl that likes ghosts that has psychic powers and a boy that likes aliens that is possessed by a spirit. The idea is that this mixes supernatural threats with sci-fi threats, and they do it in a very fun way. Sometimes the antagonist will be a giant ghost that likes to dance, another times it will be a boxing alien crab. This series knows how silly its premise is, and its just loving every second of it.

Undead Unluck is about a girl that can curse anyone that touches her with a lot of misery and a guy that can't die. They put 2+2 together and decide to team up as he's the only one that can survive her and she's the only one that can make him feel alive.

The fun of this series is that everyone has very specific powers based on tons of specific rules, so a lot of the fights rely on characters playing 4D chess with the rules of their weird powers to overcome their opponent, and this sounds like it would get tiresome as if every fight was like some sort of homework, but they manage to keep the action going at all times and getting you up to speed to what everyone can do and how they can exploit what they can do. The ways they use the guy's ability to not die in particular are absurdly creative, doing things like turning his blood into swords and bullets or using it as a lightning rod for the girl's bad luck. Fun stuff!

Zatch Bell is one of my favorites. It's basically a pokemon/digimon setting where kids get paired with some sort of teammate and fight other kids and their teammates, but in this case, the teammates are little children and they fight using books of spells.

Each child has dozens of spells in their books that are a variation of their base power. For example, Zatch himself has lighting powers, so one spell is like a blast of electricity, another is like an electric shield, another one can magnetize the enemy, and so on.

You never what new spell will be used and how it will be used, which makes each fight feel fresh and unique. And the fact that these are kids teaming up with children allow for them to create deeper relationships and thus make you care more about seeing them get out okay from the fight.

Wholesome recommendations

These are for the people who just want to enjoy nice likable people having sweet wholesome moments.

Ottoman is about a guy and his wife who both get fused with an alien and get tasked with fighting other dangerous aliens to keep the world safe, but the nice twist is that the dude's alien is powered by affection, so in order to get stronger during fights he needs to remember all the things he loves about his wife. It's so freaking silly but at the same time so adorable.

The wrong way of using healing magic is one of those isekai stories where three kids go to another world and one of them gets the role of being a healer, except he doesn't use the healing just to help people, he uses it to make his fatigue go away so he can work on his body muscle and reflexes. And what's even better is that because he keeps healing his opponents everyone eventually ends up befriending him. This one is just a really likable read.

(Oh God, I can never remember this one's name...) A Breakthrough Came Out by Forbidden Master and Disciple, is about a boy who instead of being a hero tasked with facing the demon lord, is actually the son of the hero who defeated the demon lord, and thus has a lot of insecurities because he has trouble living up to his father's name. But that all changes when the ghost of the demon lord starts haunting him and they make a deal where he will train the boy if he promises to show him the world (it turns out that the demon lord was stuck in a basement for years with nobody to talk to... poor guy...)

The bond between the boy and the demon lord is honestly very sweet. You can tell they respect each other and want to make the other proud while also proving their full potential to all of those that looked down on them. One being looked down for not being as great as the hero, and the other for having been killed by the hero. It's a great premise.

Edgelord Recommendations

Okay, this is for those who want to inject some "hardcoreness" into their blood.

Ragna Crimson is about a guy that sends all his powers into the past after he realizes there is no way to save the future from the threat of the dragons. Once he succeeds in contacting his younger self, he also advises him to meet up with Crimson, one of the smartest dragons of the world who also happens to hate dragons.

Together, with Crimson's brains and Ragna's powers they just travel the world beating the hell out of tons of dragons with some freaking metal artwork. Some of these fights go way harder than they need to and it always feel so damn epic. The person drawing these action scenes is just giving their 120%, to the point where sometimes I just want to ask them to chill a little (as an artist, you kinda start to feel sorry for other artists when you realize how much work they put on every page).

Here's another name I can never remember... Gachiakuta is a garbage manga, and by that I mean, everyone fights using garbage.

We're operating with Ghost Rider rules where each character can pick up something that was thrown out that holds some sort of special bond to them and turn it into an absurd weapon.

It has all the usual cool edgelord tropes. The main character was betrayed by his people, thrown out like trash, had his loved one killed, decided to dedicate his life to revenge and making them pay, while also teaming up with other people that were also thrown out like trash who each have their own angsty backstory, all while fighting giant trash monsters (because why not?), and also trying his best to keep this rage inside of him from going out of control.

You just know Sasuke and Shadow, the hedgehog are just looking at this from somewhere and going "That's our boy!"

Just like Ragna, the artwork here is insane. Everyone here has such a badass design that makes it look like they're ready to throw down with anyone at any moment.

Finally, we have Rebuild World, a series set in a dystopian future where a young boy is found by a psychopathic A.I. who wants to turn him into a super amazing warrior so he can enter some... Place and get some... Thing... that she wants him to get.

This series feels like the kind of story that could happen in the background of the anime Cyberpunk: Edgerunners. The atmosphere of this setting feels very similar to Edgerunners.

This future just feels like it's waiting to tear the main lead apart. The people want to kill him, the monsters want to kill him, the robots want to kill him... Everyone and everything wants to kill him. And the only way for him to survive is to listen to his A.I. (his very, VERY horny A.I., because of course...) and learn how to use the people around him in order to secure his safety. If you like dark sci-fi futures with lots of gun fighting, you're gonna love this.

----- ----- ----

And these are my action manga recommendations. Hopefully, you end up finding at least one that got your interest and turns out to be to your liking!

Give some of them a chance and find out!

[beskindtoyourself]

10 Things to do with your hands...

...instead of picking at your skin.

Draw/paint Don't worry, you don't have to be Picasso for this one. It's enough to just scribble on a piece of paper, without getting a great painting out of it. If you still feel a bit lost about how to approach this, you can use colouring books to guide you! Finger paint can also be really fun if you'd really like to get in there.

Clean/tidy up your room or house I know, this probably sounds like the kind of tip your mom would give you when you tell her you're bored, but it really is effective! Tidying, cleaning, scrubbing, folding, and sorting all demand your hands' attention. And it's a win-win if as a result, you have a clean room!

Crochet/knit I've been addicted to crocheting ever since I picked it up as a hobby a few years ago. There is just something so soothing about working on a project and watching it grow - simply through your own hands!! If you're a beginner, there is a lot of great resources and tutorials out there to help guide you.

Bake/cook something Have a recipe you've been wanting to try out for a long time? Now is the time!! Does it involve a lot of hands-on parts like kneading dough? Even better!! This could also be a fun activity to do with someone else.

Use fidget toys If you've stumbled over this post, then this probably isn't news to you - but fidget toys really do work so well if you need a quick distraction or something to keep you focused and your hands occupied! The trick that makes all the difference to me is to keep them in various places so I can't use laziness as an excuse to not get them. So keep one in your bag, on your keychain, on your desk and on your nightstand and you'll be good to go!

Write a letter Whether it be to someone you love or just to keep for yourself, writing down those thoughts that make your brain go !!! can be really helpful. Maybe you can even write a letter to your past or future self and tell them how proud of them you are - and how grateful for the journey you share.

Paint your nails It really helps me to paint my nails because it gives me that one second of resistance before I pick where I realise I don't really want to mess up my pretty nails by picking. Also, if your nails are just freshly painted, you can't move your hands around too much or you'll get the paint anywhere, which can be helpful to slow down your fidgety hands.

Play a game on your phone Playing little games on my phone is the ideal way for me to distract myself when I am anxiously waiting and have some time to kill, like before a doctor's appointment. It doesn't have to be anything crazy, calmer games like Mahjong or coloring book apps can do the job just as effectively.

Play a musical instrument There is almost no musical instruments (apart from singing of course) which do not in some ways rely on your hands to do the job - so if you have a guitar in your closet you haven't touched in years, now is the time to whip it out! Just a little twinkle twinkle can already be enough to take your mind elsewhere and give your fingers a job to do.

Try finger yoga Yes, you can do what usually involves your entire body just with your fingers! There are a lot of great videos and tutorials for hand and wrist yoga on youtube you can use as a guide on how to do this! Given that we sometimes bend our hands in pretty uncomfortable ways while picking, this can be very helpful to make your you don't injure yourself. Happy relaxing :)

[peachymilkandcream]

How Levi Would React To Anything/Anyone Taking Evelyn's Attention

(A/N: I've highkey missed doing headcanons for these two so I wanted to do one. Oneshots are nice and so is Break Me Slowly but headcanons are just so relaxing and fun to do. [Also if anyone's curious you can totally request a set of headcanons in my asks just so long as you specify you'd like a headcanon ^^] Please please read the warnings of this one it's gonna be a little darker than usual)

WARNINGS: noncon, dubcon, manipulation, domestic abuse, yandere themes, forced marriage, forced pregnancy, child abuse, stockholm syndrome, violence, mind breaking, misogyny, etc.

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Levi is not letting anything/anyone come in-between him and his wife, it doesn't matter who or what it is. If anyone or anything gets a hint more of her attention there will be some really crazy consequences.

If It's Their Child ->

If Levi feels like Evelyn is spending more time with their son/daughter than both mother and child are being punished. Levi is a strong believer of discipline so that means he will act cold and standoffish to his offspring until they beg for Papa's forgiveness.

He'll by far be more gentle with the child than Evelyn, making sure relying on manipulation to force the child to obey and continue holding him a reverent light.

They'll get a lecture on the importance of being number two in Mama's life, and how Papa is the most important thing to her and they come second in all things.

Evelyn on the other hand will be reminded who is first in her heart by ahem, giving her another child. He wants her to remember who gave her those kids she loves so much in the first place and how she should respect him more for giving them to her.

If she doesn't seem to learn her lesson the children will be taken away from her for a period until she smartens up, telling the children Mama's sick or she doesn't want to see them, making them cling to Papa even more since he loves them more than she does.

Once she has her act together they're allowed back in her life, although they'll have to learn how to accept their new sibling in her belly.

If It's A Pet ->

Surprisingly, Levi would be open to a pet, so long as it was a large dog. He would enjoy the added security when he's not home as well as the ability to smell out his wife in case she tried to escape.

However it would be his pet, she would be allowed near it but if she got to close the dog would be taken away from her. He can't allow her to get too friendly with the animal in case it stopped serving its use which would be adding a level of fear to make her submit.

It It's A Friend ->

Having friends is already a privilege that Levi allows sparingly. He has to pre-approve any and all friends she's allowed to have. Women are fine unless she starts to spill too much or other women get too nosy.

Men are never allowed to be friends with Evelyn, if by some odd chance she befriended one in secret the culprit would be found out quickly. When that happens he'll either be threatened into submission or killed in front of Evelyn as a warning, telling her what she's done because she couldn't help but flirt with everyone she met.

Women who get too nosy often meet the same fate depending on their social standing. Normal Scouts, commoners, and servants are quickly killed and disposed of, allowing them to see the truth before their final moments for the sake of irony.

Those who belong to higher standing circles are often blown off and never spoken to again. If anyone comes curiously wondering what happened Levi holds the threat of violence and ruin over them unless they keep silent.

If he feels Evelyn is getting distracted by her friends he'll isolate for weeks or even months at a time to learn the importance of his company and his alone.

If It's A Hobby ->

Levi allows Evelyn to pursue any hobby she'd like within reason, he wants her to be mentally stimulated so she doesn't think about escape. However if that's all she wants to do and rejects his affections in order to work on a hobby then it's taken away.

Or if she's stubborn about it he'll find some way to ruin the hobby completely for her until she has no interest in it once her punishment is over.

[slowd1ving]

IV: IF LOOKS COULD KILL・゜MIGUEL O'HARA

"And him. The scarlet and navy glimmer of scales was always probing at the edge of your conscious thoughts, demanding to be let in. You leaned your elbows on the railings to get more comfortable. Ever since you’d helped Miguel out with those mythical creature hunters, he plagued your thoughts like an incessant gnat. " No one ever tells you just how lonely the swashbuckling life is. Can you be blamed when you begin to long to see your new friend? When your morally ambiguous buddy makes a comeback, you can't just spoil the fun and foil his goals. Merfolk AU + Pirate GN! Reader warnings: death, violence, blood, hurt/comfort

THE TIME YOU MADE FRIENDS WITH A MERMAN AND WERE FORCED TO JOIN IN TRICKERY AND SCHEMING MASTERLIST

MISC. MASTERLIST ゜・MASTERLIST ・゜・NAVIGATION

PREVIOUS PART

   Oh yeah, you were definitely going to wring fate’s neck. This was so not what you signed up for. 

The acrid smell of smoke currently invading your senses reminded you of the sheer disaster that you were precariously balanced in; it was a far cry from the normalcy of your morning. Normal. Billowing clouds of ash surrounding you were not normal. Fires in the horizon of the port town were not normal. 

In all your years of living, you’d never been this disorientated. 

There was no indication of abnormality this morning: rolling off your hammock as usual with a thud; the typical grey, unappetising sludge of ‘porridge’; scrubbing the worn planks of the ship, under the watchful eye of the first mate; and finally, walking off the gangway to find Miguel. 

The only unusual thing about your morning was a profound lack of the first mate’s jabs at you over your work, but you took it more as a blessing that he seemed preoccupied with something that wasn’t you. 

A quiet anticipation had unfurled in your veins - perhaps you should’ve considered it a sign. Though who could blame you? You were teaming up with Miguel to track someone who had personally endangered him! 

Maybe the trepidation should’ve served as warning enough. 

But there you were, knocking on Miguel’s door at your friend’s inn when the sun was almost at its peak. It swung open with a terse greeting from him. Both of you could feel the supercharged air of the hunt; it reflected in the adrenaline-filled look the two of you exchanged. 

Over a quick meal downstairs, you found out a crucial piece of information; Miguel didn’t actually know what the traitor looked like. 

“I’ll be able to tell if they’re human,” he confessed, biting into the stem of an apple. You watched on with a mixture of concern and revulsion. “They’re also tagged with a specific marker, left by one of my more elusive colleagues.” 

“Marker?” you probed. The salt of fried potatoes lingered on your tongue. 

“It’s a tiny visual and scent patch, undetectable to humans,” he waved his fork dismissively, sparing you the details. “That’s where you come in.”

“I do?” 

“I’ll be on the radar just as much as that bastard will be on mine,” he scowled at the plate in front of him. “The marker has a greater radius than that. I’ll have the advantage there, but not for long. You’ll close the distance and tail whoever it is until the very last moment.”

Makes sense . You’d done much harder assignments in the past; this would be a piece of cake in comparison. You stabbed another potato with your fork contemplatively. 

“So, we hang around the bars and public areas until then?” 

“Not ideal, I know,” he furrowed his brow in minute defeat. He was right, of course; you’d be relying on the element of surprise as a double-edged sword that could just as easily swing your way. The plan teetered on the verge of perilous and foolhardy and hopeful . You’d hope for a favourable outcome, you’d hope that fortune smiled on the plan. 

There wasn’t much else you could do, really. 

The morning dew had long since been swept away from the cobblestones, as if it were a troublesome cobweb. In its stead was the arid wind, which was accompanied by the blistering rays of sunlight. Both you and Miguel let out matching exhales of frustration at the abundance of people milling about in the sun.

“There’s one positive thing about this,” he’d told you. “Our skin’s more sensitive than a regular human’s. The target will be indoors.”

There was only one place any respectable sailor would slink into the shadows of. A bar , stocked with tepid liquor and slightly-sticky stools. A bar , filled to the brim with comfortable, amiable darkness. A bar wouldn’t betray the one masquerading as a sailor; no, it would just strengthen and weave a better mask of one. 

If you remembered correctly, there were two bars nearby: sticky fly traps designed to lure those weary after prolonged sea journeys, drowning them in liquor and cheap, salty food. You weren’t a frequenter of them - the stale air within reminded you more of a tomb than a place to forget your worries. 

“You take one, I’ll take the other,” you’d murmured, already bracing yourself for the chorus of midday drunkards within. “I’ll be on the lookout for anyone suspicious.”

“Abnormal behaviour is a side-effect of the marker. It’s practically impossible to pinpoint where it is on your body, but the scent is particularly unpleasant to us ,” he curled his lip in disgust. “It’ll make the target act more irrationally than usual, since the smell is subtle enough to make them question if they’re making it up.”

Does this count as psychological warfare?  

“Alright, if you buy anything, make sure it’s got a low alcohol level,” you warned.

“Don’t worry,” he replied, already moving towards the establishment at the end of the street. “We as a species can handle alcohol pretty well.”

With the sweltering heat off your back, you’d settled into a booth near the back to watch the steady trickle of patrons arrive. Business flowed like a viscous honey: slow, gradual, and understandable for it being the middle of the day. There weren’t any remarkable figures lurking and skulking into the shadows of the deep-green wood of the building. 

A plain, meek figure, who was swathed in a tattered brown cloak, entered first. You pondered their assured gait ( maybe a merc ), their drink of choice ( a shot of hard liquor ) and the glint of their shamshir’s scabbard ( definitely a merc ). The contemplative hesitation of their fingers against the glass was chalked up more to the languid haze of midday rather than anomalous behaviour. 

Next to catch your eye was the old man nursing a crystal glass of some amber booze. Too old, maybe? You watched him pull out the papers studiously, comfortably , as if this was some daily ritual of his. Maybe it was. How would you classify what was abnormal ? 

Erratic breathing? Obvious rivulets of sweat? Nervous, darting eyes? You couldn’t measure whether or not someone had a changed disposition, not when this port town was full of strangers . 

The clamour of an approaching group rudely shoved you out of your musings. Four, five. Sailors? It was too dim to see their faces properly, but the tell-tale shimmer of cutlasses against mismatched clothes concluded your contemplation: pirates. As far as you knew, only one pirate vessel had docked in this town - yours . You sank in your seat, trying to avoid being seen. The worst thing that could happen for you was a drawn out conversation with your shipmates while you were actively searching for the target . 

Unfortunately, your avoidance was instead transfigured into a beacon. A stray arm was flung around you and the faint, sharp smell of spirits invaded your personal space. You moved to shove the perpetrator out of the way; however, you paused in shock at seeing the first mate’s face peering down at you. 

“Thought I saw a familiar face,” he slurred, moving back marginally. Behind him, the third mate and three other grunts were at the bar ordering. 

“Imagine that,” you replied politely, though that aggravating face was looking terribly punchable. Fervently, you prayed he wouldn’t pile upon you more work to do once you got back onto ship. 

“You’re never usually at dens like these,” his tone sharpened into a saccharine drawl that probed for an answer. You moved back. “What changed, buddy?”

“Wanted a change of scenery.” 

Your terse reply elicited a bark of laughter from him. Stop acting so friendly, bastard .  He took the opportunity to sit across from you at the booth; he was practically shielding the view of the door with his body. Intolerable prick . 

“You look lonely,” he practically purred . Self-control had you teetering between obligatory politeness and disgusted insults. “Want me to buy you a drink?” 

“No, I’m alright,” you watched him with thinly veiled derision. It certainly was strange; while his words contained traces of flirtation, they lacked the leering tone accompanying that you expected from someone absolutely stinking of strong spirits. Instead, his cold tone belied his drunk appearance.

“Were you perhaps waiting for someone else to buy you a drink?” he swilled some liquid from his flask straight into his mouth; your eyes almost watered at the overpowering stench of it.  The air felt much too suffocating. Get out . 

Surreptitiously, you shuffled to the side minutely to keep an eye on the entrance. A flash of navy glimmered beyond the grainy window. Was it a sign? You were going to take it as a sign. Get out . 

“I’ll be taking my leave,” you excused yourself with a forced smile. “The drinks here really aren’t to my liking.”

“So soon?” he pouted in disappointment, though it lacked any sort of sincerity. You felt sick to your stomach; though whether it was from this Awful Company or the smell of spirits, you couldn’t tell. 

“Unfortunately,” you slid off your seat and made your way to the door, feeling the uncomfortable prickle of eyes fixated on your back as you left. The slimy feeling remained, even after you walked out into the dry, blistering sun. Feeling awfully dizzy, you barely noticed when you collided into someone. 

“Are you alright?” 

Strong hands clasped your shoulders, and you felt the familiar, cool aroma of the sea. You looked up to see Miguel looking down upon you with a discomfited frown; clearly, he was taken aback by the dazed expression on your face.

The warmth from his hands seeped through your shirt and into your body. All the veins, all the miniscule capillaries threaded throughout your torso lit ablaze at the contact. Instantly, you were thrown out of your stupor. Words failed you; your mouth remained agape like a goddamn fish . 

“Hold on-” his eyes narrowed as he brought his face down to rest mere inches from your neck. Warm air ghosted over your clavicle as he breathed in and out experimentally. “-why do you smell like that?”

“Like what?” you scowled. Desperately, you ignored his proximity: the way he grasped your shoulders, practically pressing you into him; the way his eyes were level with yours, looking at you hesitantly and worriedly ; and the way he didn’t just smell like the sea, but the aroma was interwoven with a deeper, cleaner scent (it reminded you of the times you ventured into forests back in your youth, taking in the crisp, woodsy air). 

“You smell faintly of the marker,” those fateful words were uttered with a horrified fascination. Your heart sank . He pressed on. “Did you come into contact with anyone?”

Surely not . All too soon, your mind was thrust back into that dark, cramped booth. The sharp smell of spirits ( someone who could always drink his shipmates under the table ). A careless arm, thrown around you ( much too uncharacteristically for someone who always looked at you as if you were shit stuck to his shoe ).  

Holy shit . 

“ Fuck ,” you breathed. No way . Your heart pounded in a monologue of denial. It just wasn’t possible; the familiar, annoying face of the first mate couldn’t actually be the same face that had almost gotten Miguel killed. That same first mate that you saw daily for almost a year. This was all a hoax, right? 

You locked eyes with Miguel. 

“First mate,” you rasped out, clasping onto his forearms with shaky hands to stabilise yourself. “The one we’re looking for is the first mate on my ship. In there.”

He made no move to let you go. 

“Alright,” he enunciated, leading you into the quiet alleyway opposite the bar you’d escaped from. You let out a shaky breath. 

The cool shadows washing over you allowed your mind to collect its thoughts. Comfort was taken at the heavy weights on your shoulders, forcefully grounding you to this reality. There was nothing you could do to reverse the revelation. You just had to accept it. 

What will the captain say ? 

How could you even begin to explain to the captain, who treated the first mate like a son, that he was missing? Your mind wove web after web of lies, yet none of them would ever hold water. Would you spin the illusion that he was a traitorous deserter? Would you lie to the captain who took you in?

Focus . 

“I’m fine,” you murmured. You didn’t feel fine, but it paled in importance to catching your shipmate.  “Just a little shocked.”

“If you say so,” he conceded, though he didn’t look happy about it. The crimson of his eyes was muddied by the shadow of his frown. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t captivated by the shift in expression. 

Distantly, your brain half-registered an eerie glow from behind him. It wasn’t until his nose wrinkled in abject distaste that you fully comprehended the flames licking the sky from the bar you were at only a few minutes ago.

This can’t be a coincidence . 

“Fuck,” you cursed. “He’s onto us.”

In this blistering heat, the dry timbers of the buildings would be about as fire resistant as goddamn tinder . Horrified, you listened to the yells and screams of a crowd with no clue what to do. 

You rattled off the physical description of the first mate, pushing Miguel out of the alley.

“We’ll split up to look for him,” you urged, fervently praying this town had effective fire marshals. 

Desperation had pushed the crowd into surging out of the street. Already, smoke and ash had begun their billowing journey through the air; it wouldn’t be long before it became suffocating. The chaos prevented you from seeing far ahead, and it was made worse by the writhing mass of bodies trapping you in an endless tug-of-war. 

In the midst of it all, you heard a panicked cry of help coming from above. It went unnoticed by the tumultuous crowd, who seemed to be preoccupied with saving themselves and their possessions from the fire that was rapidly spreading (not that you could blame them, really). 

You looked up, and locked eyes with a young teenager framed by the window up in the living area above the bar. Shit . He was wreathed in the orange glow of the fire; he didn’t have long before the greedy flames swallowed him up, and it seemed you were the only one aware of his predicament. You could practically see all his sclera engulfing those mahogany irises with how fear-widened his eyes were. 

There was a roof adjacent to the building that seemed level with the window, but it would be impossible to get on without any help. You had to act, now . Hastily, you tugged your sweat-drenched shirt upwards and over your nose (it was crude, but it'd make do). The gutter pipe nearby would allow you to access that flat roof easily enough, but you had to get the kid to prepare. 

By now, the street was cluttered with more debris than people. You swallowed thickly; there wasn’t going to be anyone else to help you if you failed. 

The metal pipe under your hands was warm and rough; within a few seconds and with a few scrapes, you’d made it to the roof.

“Hey!” you yelled hoarsely, but there was no need; the teen had already opened the window as far as possible when he saw your movements and willingness to help. 

“Grab my hand,” you stepped to the very edge of the roof - you didn’t allow yourself to comprehend the precarious drop (even though it was only one tier of building). You clung to the rail on the edge and reached out with your other hand, feeling the sweaty palm of the kid desperately gripping on to you with the fervour of someone who just wanted to live . 

“What’s your name, kid?” you felt your body practically tear in two as you pulled him onto the roof beside you. “Is there anyone else in there?”

“No, just me,” he coughed out, leaning heavily onto you. You had to get the two of you off the roof before the fire spread further. 

“I’m Miles. Miles Morales.” 

“Right,” you said distractedly, looking around for a means of getting down and out of the street. Fruitlessly, you tried to keep your voice level. “I’ll lower you to the ground from the roof, okay?”

“That’s fine,” he was wheezing slightly from the smoke, and you hurried to the edge so you could get him down. With one hand, you gripped the rail, and with the other you managed to act as a makeshift pulley so he could slide down the side of the wall. 

As you were holding onto his wrist, his sleeve slipped down; there were numerous familiar scarlet scales dotting the deep brown expanse of his arm, just like the ones on Miguel’s . Your eyes widened, but you overlooked it. He was just a teenager.

After you got down yourself, he turned to you hesitantly. 

“I’m going down to the water,” he began. It was clear the arid mixture of smoke and dry air was already getting to him; you were suddenly worried for Miguel. “Thanks for helping me.”

“No problem,” you were already moving to go back to look for both Miguel and the first mate when Miles called out. 

“You going back?” a note of panic slipped into his question. You looked back with a softened expression.

“My friend needs help,” you replied. This town didn’t seem to have a booming population; hopefully, the empty streets that awaited fire marshals would make it easy to search for both of them. 

“Be careful,” he’d called out worriedly when you begun your search. You would definitely need it.

Now, you stood in the middle of a side street, desperately trying not to heave up your breakfast at the caustic reek of the smoke. Soot clung to your sweat-streaked body, and it really made you wonder ; out of what obligation were you doing this? This went far past a mere acquaintance .  

You were tired, and much too dazed to continue searching. The sun was at its peak, the blaze of the fire was never far off, and the bitter taste of smoke lingered on the back of your tongue along with a question; why did you keep going? Could it all be attributed to worry ?

This was a fool’s errand, wasn’t it? Far away, you could hear the wail of fire wagons and the tolling of the town bell punctuating the evacuation. Or was it a knell? Would this debris-covered street end up as your crypt?

You pressed on. It was surprisingly easy to extinguish the feeling of despair flooding your very neurons. For a friend . No, that wasn’t correct. For Miguel . 

Everywhere you turned, you were met with the faint chorus of crackling fire. It was inescapable. In the distance, buildings collapsed as if they were no more than fragile toys. Was this town going to succumb to the petulant whims of these flames?

Deliriously, you barely registered the chime of metal against metal. It pierced through the monotonous whoosh of flame and successfully broke you out of your hazy wandering. Your eyelids snapped open. Next street over . 

Go . 

Even the shadows of the alleyway you ducked into couldn’t shelter you from the sweltering heat. Breathe . The clash of blade against blade rang louder and louder in your eardrums; it tore into your very being with worry. What would you see when you gazed out of the mouth of the alley?

Adrenaline danced and weaved through your body (if you were being honest, it was the only thing keeping you from collapsing). Here, the ground was a lot higher, so the air was merely tinged with the flavour of smoke; you had a chance to catch your breath. 

You concealed yourself in the shadows of the alley and waited for them to ease into frame. 

It was a short wait. In the sunlight, the furious flash of blades captivated you. Your breath caught in your throat. It was frenzied, it was maddened, and it was an absolute mess . Limb atop limb - the writhing tangle of two bodies engaged in a battle looked more to you like a serpentine dance than a clash. Those two were practically tearing into each other; their swordsmanship was juddering rather than fluid, punctuated by their claws attempting to gouge through flesh. 

Sure, it was tumultuous and bloody and sickening to watch, but framed in the searing halo of the sun, it looked like a painting depicting the very essence of violence. Beautiful . 

You drew your flintlock. 

It was unclear who would emerge victorious. You could try to aim at the first mate, but you couldn’t guarantee Miguel wouldn’t be shot as well. An incensed debate broke out in your mind: should you interfere, or should you wait to pass judgement? For the first time in a while, indecision wracked your very being. 

They were at an impasse: matched blow for blow, edge to edge. Miguel moved with grace and power that betrayed his experience in battle, but the first mate was fast . This wasn’t a bout for first blood; they were both brimming over with murderous intent and bloodlust . 

You felt the chill of fear as if it were a wraith breathing down your neck. 

Could you even help out? 

As you were mulling that pivotal question over, you heard the rustle of clothing behind you. Panicked, you spun round to see a stranger right behind you, poised to attack. On instinct, you took your pistol off safety.

“Don’t make this any more difficult than it has to be,” she hissed. She wore the threadbare garb of a mythical creature hunter ( not that they’d claim to have a uniform, per se ). And where there was one, there’d be more. Horrified, you saw other shadows skulking around near the duel. 

There was no time. You shot her in the foot, and almost threw up at the coppery stench of blood. 

You had to get rid of the accomplices. No doubt they’d be watching like goddamn vultures until one of the two mermen collapsed (or maybe even both), carting them off to sell off parts. Disgustedly, you blocked out the pained cries of the woman below you and focused on the other two shadows. 

But before you could even think of doing anything, a shot rang out in the street. In tandem, you moved with one of the shadows as the first mate staggered backwards. Distantly, you watched him scramble away, clutching at his bleeding shoulder. The clang of his dropped sword against the scorched cobblestones shook you out of your daze. 

Before you, the first mate was attempting to outrun his imminent end. You could practically taste the mocking laughter that played in your mind’s theatre on loop; by now, Miguel was surrounded by the other two accomplices who knew the first mate would likely not get far in his state. It was tragic, really. The burning flavour of a scream was gripping your throat, but even sound was denied from you as you watched Miguel warily adjust his grip on the sword.

Your sword. Your life. You were damned if this opportunity fled from your grasp like grains of sand. 

One bullet. 

The frenzy of this moment shrouded you to all parties; even the warning cries of the woman left in the alley didn’t register to any soul present, save you. After all, who would hear her amidst a town of wailing?

Inhale . 

You levelled the gun, lining up those imaginary crosshairs with the eye of the one nearest to you. The tremble in your hands was minute. Apathy was dredged up from the depths of your gut; you wouldn’t hesitate. Would you?

Exhale . 

Bile shoved its way on your tongue when you heard the click of the trigger. The brutal recoil forced you back into reality. Hastily, you traded your gun’s place with your new sabre to watch the aftermath. 

A clean shot. You looked away. 

Fury was daubed on the hunter’s face ( perhaps they were still capable of emotion ). Was the limp man beside him a friend? Family? You found it terribly ironic, since he was just in the middle of hunting down your friend. Although, you doubted mythical creature hunters were gifted with the wonders of Self Awareness. In fact, their job probably required a veritable lack of it. 

Maybe it extended to general awareness; his focus reflected in the quivering sword now pointed to your direction. You shifted slightly closer, not keeping your eyes off his enraged trembling. Absurdly easy . 

Even with your focus on the man in front of you, you could feel Miguel’s intense gaze leave pinpricks of heat on your body. His image swum at the edge of your peripherals, along with the dark, sooty smoke that traced the air of the street. 

“Go,” you couldn’t meet his eyes; was it out of shame for your earlier indecision? It wasn’t a sin, to be frozen in place, but it felt like one. “Go after him.”

The words felt thick and foreign on your tongue. Stay , you wanted to plead. Stay here with me . Alas, all that remained on your taste buds was the bitter sapor of smoke. You saw that faint outline of colour leave (in your shirt you’d given him the day you found him on the beach). 

Don’t go . 

Tough leather graced your second hand as you moved it to the grip of the sword to support the first. In your disarray, you’d need the added power. Or maybe you wouldn’t. The man before you could barely contain his anger as he watched you cautiously. Neither of you moved, but you knew it wouldn’t be long before his sword swung upwards to try pass judgement on you ( as if he wasn’t guilty of worse ). 

“You’ll be seeing your buddy in hell soon,” you probed, not feeling an ounce of guilt over it. It did the trick; his features contorted into a twisted, horrifying mask of fury, a mere jape of humanity. 

“You’ll pay for that,” he hissed out and lunged at you. It was almost comically easy to evade the clumsy swipe. Was he a rookie? The youth painting his face gave you a rough estimate of twenty years. Although, it was presently marred with a vengeful fury. 

“Is the more skilled one lying at my feet?” you taunted, feeling the very atoms of air heat up with his passion. He swung wildly at you; if you got caught up in that wild, left-right lashing, it would get very nasty. You had to end it quickly while he was still incensed. 

The little smile on your face goaded him into an easily-readable attack. A most basic slash, straight down your chest. It happened in slow motion; you watched the childish swipe while distantly raising your own blade horizontally to block him. Simultaneously, you let go with one hand to pull out the shimmery knife at your belt. 

Your gut twisted. 

No, you couldn’t feel the cold whisper of regret. Not now . The sickening feeling of metal piercing the skin of his chest reverberated through you. As he staggered back, as blood rapidly coagulated on your hands and face, you felt the urge to throw up. 

You pulled out the knife. 

When he inevitably collapsed, you were already looking away. No , it wasn’t voluntary; you couldn’t look back to those two separate pools of blood. Deliriously, you staggered backwards ( a distorted mirror of the man lying at your feet ) in the direction Miguel left in. 

The pragmatic impulse to rest and catch your breath crumbled away when you felt your foot dip into viscous liquid. 

Get away . 

Those two words circulated in your mind; you didn’t have the option to ignore it. Unconsciously, you wiped off your knife and sheathed it, then did the same with your sword. Your shirt was already dripping with crimson at the sleeves, so what were a few more stains? The heart within you was thumping erratically - the organ, too, was caught in the throes of hysteria. 

Find Miguel . 

You fled. Ran away, even, through the soot-speckled streets with one goal in mind. It was a visceral action: feeling the rough pitter-patter of your soles against cobblestone, rather than hearing it; feeling the congealed coppery liquid on your tongue, rather than tasting it; and feeling the pain of the woman in the alley, rather than hearing her cries. 

Forgive me . 

Your lungs burned with your silent invocation. Who were you praying to ? As the bruising pressure of exhaustion beleaguered you, your lips were otherwise preoccupied with chanting this silent mantra, rather than gulping down mouthfuls of smoky air. You clung to the action as if you could even atone for your deeds. 

Escape . By immersing yourself in the piercing strain of running away in exhaustion, you could ignore the caked blood on your hands. He couldn’t be far away. You strained your ears, hoping to hear anything over the distant wails of the fire-bells. 

Nothing.

Perhaps it was luck guiding your stumbling to yet another alleyway, just as inconspicuous as the rest. Your ragged breathing ceased as you spotted two figures within. It was almost like a painting you’d see in some museum; Miguel, haloed in the rays of the high sun and poised to attack, and the first mate, shrouded in the shadows of the alleyway and cowering before him. 

He was still alive. Somehow. The first mate’s fingers clung onto the ridges of the wall behind him as if it would save him. 

“...not going to repeat myself…”

You could faintly make out what Miguel was saying, but your dazed mind could barely keep up. He glanced at you, yet your eyes were sliding over the bloodied first mate glaring at you. 

“...working with the other traitor..”

Miguel’s query slipped like oil over you, as if your ears were made of water. You felt delirious. 

“You’re working with him, aren’t you?” the first mate spat out accusingly. His gaze bore daggers straight at you. Vehement hatred oozed out from between his teeth; it permeated deeply into your skin, utterly palpable. You met his gaze levelly. “Where is your loyalty to the ship?”

“So what if I am?” you challenged. It was ludicrous to speak of loyalty in a cutthroat industry like yours. “Weren’t you misappropriating funds from the captain? Don’t speak of loyalty.”

His eyes bulged at your accusation, but you couldn’t even feel the vindictive satisfaction that you would otherwise. He wouldn’t be walking out alive; his pitiful display of aggression was just that. Pitiful . Your heart thrummed with hollowness. Looking at him, you could barely see traces of the upstanding youth the captain had showered praise on. Instead, before you was a shell of a man who’d been your source of torment in your only home . 

You looked away from a man who was going to die soon. 

“Speak,” Miguel probed. The first mate’s eyes snapped back to him resolutely. His mouth was set with a knowing . He knew he wouldn’t see another morning. “Did you work with the other traitor?”

“Eat shit,” he scoffed back, but the insult fell short with the hoarseness that emerged from his larynx. The light had already dimmed from his eyes; he was a living, breathing corpse. 

You turned away from the sickening crunch . 

“You alright?” Miguel’s voice was suddenly right next to you. How long had you been standing there thoughtlessly? You looked at his face, soaking in the planes in the noon light. And his eyes, his incarnadine eyes , that were painted the same hue as the blood staining your hands; your breath caught in your throat. 

How could you be assuaged of guilt when your only solace reminded you of your sins ?

“You’re injured,” he frowned, gazing at your arms. You looked down as well ( a warped reflection ) to see the man’s blood still tainting your sleeves.

“No, I’m-” your words became imprisoned in your voice box when you saw the deep gouges marring your forearms. When had those appeared? Strange. Curious , even. You opened your mouth to speak further, but the haze swimming in your mind prevented you from even forming coherent thoughts. 

“Hey,” two distinct pressures on your shoulders appeared suddenly. Were those Miguel’s hands? You couldn’t tell, not with your rapidly blurring vision. “Stay with me.”

The panicked note in his voice thrust you back into the past, where you had the exact same thoughts. 

“Stay with me,” he pleaded urgently. You could practically taste the desperation rolling off him in tangible waves. 

“I’m right here,” you coughed out, slightly confused. You could feel him, and he could feel you beneath his fingertips: warm body, soot-streaked clothes, blood-soaked hands, the hummingbird pulse of your heart. Why did he sound so worried? You were right there!

“Don’t leave,” his voice cracked, and he canted further into you. His hands slid beneath your arms and wrapped around you, probably to support you further. Why was he so close ? Your hands snaked around his neck dazedly. 

“What are you talking about?” 

Yet even as you asked, your eyes were already fighting to stay open. 

“No, no ,” you could feel his breath on your neck as he cradled you closer ; the gentleness was a harsh contrast to his earlier martial prowess. He was nothing but a blur in your vision, but you could feel the anguish in the sharp curl of his fingers against your back. “You can’t leave me.”

“I won’t,” you murmured. 

Let go . 

He breathed you in, pressing his face into your shoulder. The pull of the darkness at the edges of your vision ebbed and flowed like the tumultuous waves of a sea-storm. You wouldn’t leave. You wouldn’t . You fought to keep the umbrous swirls at bay, yet you felt like you were fighting the vast power of the very sea . 

Let go . 

Maybe you’d take a short nap. Just a short one, then you’d be right as rain. You’d be safe in his arms, right? 

You let go, feeling the cascade of tenebrous waves crash over you and seal your fate. Miguel’s hands stiffened around you, and just before you faded out, you distantly heard his panicked cursing. 

In the end, it was the gentle rocking of the familiar sea that greeted you from your slumber. The welcoming buoyancy felt all too comforting after the chaotic blur of the day. Hold on. Your eyes shot open, just to see an unfamiliar panelled ceiling that definitely wasn’t your bunk. 

“Good, you’re awake,” a mellow voice rang out in the ship cabin, one that you definitely did not recognise. Hastily, you turned your head; you felt the creak of the mattress beneath you and stiffened (seriously, where were you?). An unfamiliar woman was sitting at the bedside, with a smile that caused the deep brown skin of her cheeks to dimple. 

“Who?” you croaked out in question, feeling very much not Tip-Top. Her expression instantly switched to concern as you tried in vain to sit up. Her hand reached out, and on it you saw the same band carved with marks that Miguel wore. 

“I’m Jessica, one of Miguel’s colleagues and pod members,” she quickly explained, leaning forward to help you sit back against the extremely fluffy pillows. She smelled similar to Miguel: that specific, sea-breeze scent you’d come to associate with merfolk. Weakly, you smiled at her in thanks. 

“Where?” you mumbled hoarsely. Internally, you winced at how dry your throat was; Jessica seemed to read your mind as she handed you a glass of water from the pitcher at the side-table nearby. You slaked your thirst eagerly, looking around to take in the fine decor of the cabin. 

“You’re in the captain’s cabin of our ship,” she spoke slowly enough that you easily absorbed the information. Captain’s cabin? Ship? “While Miguel was out apprehending our culprit, we were tasked with finding and purchasing a vessel to suit our further needs.”

The daylight streaming in through the window gave rise to a multitude of other unpleasant feelings. Three days. Would your ship still be in port? Your eyes welled up with panicked tears. 

“How long was I out?” you rasped. Jessica seemed to notice the underlying question within your inquiry, for her eyes softened with pity. Has my ship left without me ?

“A full day, you were practically comatose.”

You closed your eyes in grief. Her omission was answer enough. Deep down, you knew your captain would’ve set sail no matter what; you’d foolishly hoped that you were the exception. No . This job wasn’t for the faint of heart. Silently, you allowed yourself a moment to mourn your previous job. Your ship . Your home . 

“I’m sorry.”

You hadn’t even realised tears were slipping down your face until her quiet acknowledgement reached your ears. Almost unconsciously, your hand reached up to wipe your face. It was free of any blood; you looked down to notice fresh clothes and bandages on your wounds, as well as the celestial disc nestled comfortingly on your sternum. 

“S’fine,” you mumbled out; both of you knew it was certainly not . “Captain’s nothing if not pragmatic.”

With a heavy heart, you cut your losses. You’d let the tears emerge and cascade later, when the quiet of the night forced you to acknowledge the sweeping tide of emotions that threatened to drown you. 

Fuck . Would you ever see that old bastard again? You felt an affectionate smile well up. 

“I’m sure you don’t want to talk about it with a stranger,” she readily confessed, smiling at you slightly. “Do you want me to get Miguel?” 

“Actually, I’d like to go to him,” you frowned. It was weird; why hadn’t he come to visit sooner? 

“You know, we could barely pry him from your bedside so the healer could do his job,” it was like she read your mind. “In the end, I was the one who volunteered to stay so he wouldn’t wear a hole in the floor from his pacing. It was a unanimous vote to banish him from your room while you slept.”

“Anyways,” she continued, assessing you with a critical eye. “As long as you feel well enough to walk, I can take you to see him.”

“Thanks,” you practically wilted in relief. 

“Lyla too, she’s been very eager to see you, though she’s currently testing out some tanks” she admitted. “She’s never been this invested in someone before. As Miguel’s familiar, she’s usually more reserved with the rest of us, though still friendly.”

“Well, I’d hope she likes me,” you let out a wheezy little laugh, but in reality your heart was absolutely getting ravaged by Lyla’s adorableness. “I am her Best Friend.”

She gave you a toothy smile. “As a familiar, she’s also subject to Miguel’s emotional influence; her trust of you reflects how much he values you as well.”  

Well. You didn’t quite know what to say to that. Instead, a comfortable silence settled over the two of you as you drank small sips from the cup of water. 

“Thanks for staying here with me,” you broke the simmering quiet. And you were grateful, to a woman who you didn’t know yet stayed with you regardless. 

“It’s no issue,” she waved you off, gesturing to a book resting on the nightstand that probably served as her entertainment when monitoring you. “After your help in Miguel’s mission, we couldn’t exactly ignore your sacrifices.”

Sacrifice . You mulled the word over, tasting it on the tip of your tongue with a quiet resignation you found utterly foreign. Yet, it had been a sacrifice, hadn’t it? Had you ignored Miguel’s plight, you’d be at home . Safe, familiar cabin: yours . 

Yet, had you ignored Miguel’s plight, you’d continue the monotonous cycle of longing for adventure but being too cowardly to grasp it within your two, calloused hands. The shroud of sacrifice covered what this moment really was: opportunity. This was the chance to make a new life for yourself, and sate your soul with what you needed . All your choices, all your struggles led to this moment; there was nothing that you could do about it, nothing that could rewind time and get you back into the graces of your old captain. 

Maybe one day, you’d cross paths with the captain once more. Maybe one day, you’d have the chance for reconciliation . The old captain had cared for you; you knew it in the very marrow of your bones. Fate had simply rolled these dice for you, and the only choice to make was to move forward. 

Freedom. As far as you knew, the ship you were currently on wasn’t moving; maybe it was still docked at the port-town. With every port-town, there would come ships needing new sailors. The golden ticket of freedom was yours for the picking. 

“I’m ready to see Miguel,” you set your jaw determinedly. Why had you said it like you were about to stumble to the executioner’s block? Jessica noticed your seriousness, and her eyes glimmered good-naturedly. 

“‘Course,” she got up and opened the cabin door for you, letting in the swirling breeze from the sea linger and dance around the quarters. The pads of your fingers dug into the embroidered, soft coverlet easily; it didn’t provide much support in getting up, but it was pretty to observe the kaleidoscope of colours patterned beneath the richly hued thread. Seriously, how rich were merfolk? 

Looking around, you once again took in the opalescent tapestries and trinkets warmly blanketing the surfaces inside the room. It was opulent, it was grand , and it was a tragedy to leave. Whoever decorated the room knew exactly what to do. Even the goddamn lanterns were artfully adorned with stained glass. 

You tore your gaze away. Best not to linger, lest you pleaded to stay there for the rest of your snivelling, miserable Pirate Life. 

The worn soles of your feet met a soft, exquisitely ornate rug, and you practically felt the proverbial drool greedily drip from your mouth. Fuck . It was extraordinarily difficult to pry your feet to make small, weary steps. 

“Those are for you,” Jessica pointed to a pair of boots sitting prettily near the edge of the cabin door. You sucked in a breath, noticing the delicate craftsmanship and regal charms practically dripping off the shoes. Heavens above . 

“Holy shit ,” you murmured, wide-eyed. A snort of amusement graced your ears at your wonderment as you slipped the soft, pliable material on your feet. They felt solid, practical , but were so utterly comfortable that you could fall asleep in them. 

“Miguel thought you might not want to rewear those bloodied boots, so they’re being cleaned currently,” she admitted. Your heart veritably melted at the consideration. 

“I could kiss him right now,” you commented off-handedly, adjusting the ties of the boots so they sat better. You didn’t realise you said it out loud until you heard the muffled laughter of Jessica behind her hand. 

“He’d appreciate that,” she said under her breath, looking at you appraisingly. “Point him along to courting gifts.”

“What?” 

“What?” she ushered you out of the door before you could ask about her muttering. The warm redolence of sunny air clung to the honeyed timbers of the ship deck; you couldn’t help but breathe it in euphorically. 

Through the railings, you spied the familiar port town. The sight brought you comfort, but you were honestly more captivated by the ship that swayed slightly beneath your experienced legs. 

It was a comfortably sized vessel; large enough to house a well-trained crew and heavy cargo, yet small enough to still feel homely . Ochre timber gleamed in the mid-morning light, drawing your eye in almost every direction. And it was organised , with the heavy artillery stowed away under covers, and the rigging tied off in knots that would put the most sea-hardened sailor to such shame that they’d never show their face again.

“He’s by the figurehead,” Jessica pointed far behind you, where the front of the ship was situated. “I’ll go find Lyla to tell her you’ve woken up.” 

The quiet thumping of her hesitant footprints against the wood slowly faded out ( guess she hasn’t found her sea legs yet - and gods above you cursed yourself for such a stupid joke). Whatever figurehead was there was concealed by the side of the absolute colossus of a forecastle deck, where Miguel most likely perched. You snorted at the image, though he did seem like the type of person to revel in having the high ground. 

What would you even say? Hey, I know I pretty much collapsed on you back there, sorry! Sorry you had to lug my limp body all the way back to ship! Your index finger trailed the edge of the smooth oaken rail in a futile effort to ground yourself. Ardently, you wished that the ship were larger so as to somehow buy more time before you reached the steps at the base of the forecastle deck. 

Inhale . You were midway across the ship when you spotted his silhouette peering intently at the horizon. Away from you, away from your burning gaze. Your eyes darted away before he felt that prickling sensation. Why did you suddenly feel so inflamed ? The organ beating away to provide blood to each nook and cranny of your body suddenly felt much too raw, much too overwhelming for you to focus on walking. 

Exhale . Surreptitiously, you snuck glances over to where the richly-dyed navy of his shirt fluttered in the wind. Even though there was still considerable distance between the two of you, the muscles of his forearms as they tensed were still clearly visible to you when he gripped the railing. Did he struggle with adjusting to the surface of the sea, or was his nervousness induced by you , just as he induced yours? (You hoped so. Gods above , you hoped so.)

All too quickly, you reached the base of the steps leading to the forecastle deck. 

Fuck . You held your breath as your soles met each step; they lacked the characteristic creak you were accustomed to, letting you ghost up the stairs with nary a sound. It was way too late to escape back to the comfort of the decadent cabin. Wasn’t it?

Your silent ascent went unnoticed by the figure in front of you. To you, he seemed to be lost in thought. Was it the tense set of his shoulders that gave him away? Or was it the wood that practically trembled under the harsh curl of his clawed fingers? Or perhaps it was his bowed head, gazing at the sea in a mien that could only really be described as mournful . 

The undercurrent of emotion crashing under all the turbulent worry was intrigue . He was intriguing to watch: a poised sculpture strung with mighty sinew, a tightly restrained character written with the tragic humour of a poet, and an enthralling painting that you couldn’t look away from. 

Just like that. Just like that , your mouth moved out of its own volition; it shattered the fragile artwork before you.

“ Miguel .”

( Of course . Of course his name was the first precious word that graced the tip of your tongue. It rested heavy on your tongue: a reflection of the heavy burden on your heart.)

And suddenly, you knew what it meant when the poets of old described truly knowing someone. Countless scrolls of papyrus beneath your mortal fingertips couldn’t have ever prepared you for the sheer, omniscient awareness that filled you; your very capillaries blazed alight with a fervour you’d never once experienced before this. 

(“ Know this: when a heart understands itself and another, this is the crux of connection .”)

You saw him fully: the delicate tension of his shoulders dissolving as he whirled round; the minute trembling of his fingers betraying his raw emotion , the worry he’d felt; and the parting of his mouth betraying words that would ultimately be left unspoken. But you knew . 

You understood the sheer magnitude of your feelings, even before he rushed forward and grasped you within his arms. Between you, you could feel the palpable emotion ebbing and flowing beneath his feverish skin. No longer could you distantly watch from afar. 

Could he feel the connection too? Could he feel the bridge linking your two souls together?

(“ Pray, disciple, that you experience love for your neighbour, for that is the strength of humanity.” )

Even as he let you go, the firm warmth of his hand around yours remained. Was it your pulse you felt, or his? With every exhale, you felt the harmony of his beating heart racing against yours. Ever so slightly in sync - the cacophonous pounding in your ears distracted you. You had to tear away from the all-encompassing feeling.

“You’re finally awake,” a touch of disbelief tainted the reverent tone of his voice.  Even with the distant cry of the gulls against the hushed backdrop of crashing waves, you heard his whisper as if it were a clamorous bell. 

“Yeah,” you affirmed. Lucidity drummed throughout your entire body, but words still failed you. “What’s going on?”

It seemed that you had hit the nail right on the head; his expression shifted to one of hesitance. 

“Well, we’re currently in search of a captain,” the darker circles under his eyes looked more pronounced as he stifled his yawn. He squinted, then turned to you contemplatively. Wait. Wait . What did that considering, sidelong glance mean?

“Uhh,” you replied intelligently. A sliver of hope wriggled its way into your destitute little heart. This grand vessel, within the reach of your fingertips, under your command. Opportunity . New life breathed itself into you. 

“You don’t have to decide right now, of course,” he quickly assured you, sensing your hesitation. “In fact, if you wanted, we could try catch up to your old vessel should you want to go back.”

You could almost taste it on your tongue. Yes, please . The plea was ultimately shoved down your throat. After indulging in the freedom of your new life, you wouldn’t go crawling back ( especially since there was a high possibility the captain would just move on anyway ). Besides, even if you went back, the grimy label of a deserter would cling to you everywhere you went - even though it hadn’t been your choice. 

No, this clean slate was perfect. 

“I’ll take it.”

Those three syllables weren’t flavoured with the notes of joy and self-serving glee like you’d half-expected to drip from your mouth; rather, the piquant taste of determination ( and more importantly, responsibility ) spiked across your tongue. It extended to the solemn set of your shoulders, the serious crook of your fingers, and the contemplation of your furrowed brow. 

Resolution . You would steer this crew to prosperity , until you were damn sure that your captain would’ve looked upon you with pride. 

“I hope your cabin’s to your liking then?” he inquired politely, though you saw the mischievous glint in his eyes. “I made sure it was decorated to suit you.”

“You knew I’d say yes?” you accused. His shoulders hunched and shook with slight laughter, causing the pressure on your hand to increase. But you couldn’t stay mad - in fact, whatever mock-exasperation that had washed up had already ebbed away. The theatrical scowl painted on your face cracked into a smile, like if an egg broke to reveal the sunny, bright yolk inside. “But yeah, I loved it.” 

“I’m glad.”

When had he moved closer? He looked much too suspiciously innocent for your liking.

“You’ll have the option of picking whichever sailors you want to bulk the crew at each port,” he murmured. In the hush of conversation, could he hear your heart pounding and crashing against your chest? “A lot of my organisation will make up the crew, though. Think you can handle training them?” 

“Yeah, ‘course, piece of cake,” you ignored the extensive lack of teaching experience shining bright in your resume. You’d deal with it later; his proximity was much too tempting to overlook.  

“I’m sure ,” he commented dryly, seemingly preoccupied with intently scrutinising your face. It was agonising ; the tangible pull within your stomach begged you to do anything to alleviate the heavy air that settled over the two of you like a dense fog. His gaze travelled downwards, to where his gift was nestled against your sternum. “I like your necklace.”

“Me too,” you agreed. Smooth . Real smooth . The distance between your face and his was only a mere handspan; so close you could count each eyelash if you tried. Those piercing, beautiful carmine eyes snapped back at yours, hazed over with the shadow of dilation. Fuck . You were hyper aware of him: the way he swallowed thickly, the way his lips parted to expose the shine of fangs, and the way his warm body practically caged you into the railing. 

“Fuck, I missed you,” he breathed. He lifted your joined hands so he could press yours against his cheek (it was warm , and had a touch of roughness). You couldn’t pull away; something about his touch was highly magnetic. Fuck it . Your other hand lifted from where it was absolutely gripping the railing behind you for dear life; practically out of its own volition, it moved to cup his other cheek tentatively. 

His eyes blew open further in shock. Beneath the careful pads of your fingers, his facial muscles tensed and relaxed with his opening and closing mouth. Dork ( affectionately ). A hummingbird-like, fluttering pulse brushed up against your palm. He’s nervous . Miguel , the absolute behemoth of flesh and sinew, the ruthless vigilante, was at your absolute mercy . Those dilated eyes were shadowed with brows that betrayed his tentative desire . Gods above - it was absolutely intoxicating to witness. 

“Can I?” 

Even without your hushed question, he was already leaning into your touch: a silent plea to continue whatever you started. Subsequently, his face hovered closer and closer , until you could feel his breath fanning on your face. Even without the question, the conviction in those eyes and the thrumming blood beneath his skin echoed a resounding yes . 

Closer.

Closer , until the distance between the two of you was infinitesimal, and you were practically drowning in the gold flecks peppering those sanguine irises. 

Who was it that made a move first? Was it him, snaking his hands and curling them into the fabric of your clothes? Or was it you, raking your hands through that impossibly soft hair, and pulling him towards you? In that moment, you decided you didn’t particularly care.

Fuck . Nose-to-nose now, and you could already taste the salt of his skin. There’s no going back now . From where you watched beneath your eyelashes, his eyes had already fluttered shut: a trusting gesture that made your heart melt . 

His lips ghosted tentatively over yours; it wasn’t nearly enough. More . Your hands tangled further into his hair to pull him into you, and he let out a muffled groan against your mouth at the harsh contact. As if on instinct, his sharp nails jerked inwards to further press you into his body. 

It was electrifying . 

When his lips parted, you easily deepened the kiss. Tilting your head to the side more, you allowed yourself to savour the taste of him on your tongue: a faint trace of cherries, and the bitter, metallic flavour of blood. Your blood, you realised with a start - the slight pain on your tongue was probably courtesy of those sharp fangs. If you were being honest, you didn’t care .

And it seemed Miguel didn’t either; he eagerly lapped up the coppery liquid with a groan that reverberated down your throat, low and deep . 

You moved back with a gasp to catch your breath, opening your eyes and dropping your hands from his hair. He looked so completely dazed : ruffled hair, bruised lips and blown out eyes, hazed over with a lascivious sheen. A fragile bridge of carmine-tinged saliva connected the two of you briefly, before breaking as quickly as it had formed. Yet, the image seemingly captivated the two of you; a clear reminder of what had just transpired. 

“Fuck, that was-” Miguel ran a tongue over his canines, effectively interrupting himself. He slid his hands upwards until they mirrored your previous position: his hands, tenderly cupping your face with the reverence of a devotee. 

This time, it was he who initiated it. The brush of his lips against yours was careful and slow, unlike the hurried previous attempt; it was like the two of you had all the time in the world, frozen in time with the crash of waves and cries of gulls surrounding you in a chorus of glorious , unadulterated freedom. 

There was nothing to focus on other than his slow, methodical movements; the melding of his body against yours captivated you, much like a musician’s hand lovingly wrapping around the dips of a violin. When his long nails brushed up against your racing pulse at your neck, a small gasp escaped you - though, it was easily swallowed up by his waiting mouth. 

It seemed that the slight noise spurned him to lower his inhibitions. His nails gently traced the skin of your neck in swirling patterns, while those sharp teeth sucked and marked your lips with bruising adornment. 

(“ When you find those you cherish, keep them close to your heart always, for they will be your home .”)

Those dusty old philosophers from the copied manuscripts could take a goddamn backseat in the abyssal recesses of your mind. With his tongue eagerly in your mouth, this was your corner of paradise, and you were damned if you’d share it with those creaky manuscripts. 

Fuck , you would’ve gladly forgone air if it meant staying like this for the rest of time; you practically whined when he pulled away to let you breathe. 

“Desperate?” he teased. You opened your mouth to deliver a no-doubt Scathing Retort, but shut it as soon as his mouth moved down again; yet, it met the skin of your neck instead of the plush of your lips. The train of thoughts was absolutely derailed with a crash of expletives that wiped your mind blank. 

You hissed as his teeth grazed that point where your blood threatened to burst out of your skin with how fast your pulse raced. It wasn’t hard enough to break through the skin, yet the purposeful half-bites he was leaving would definitely leave a reminder. 

“Fuck, aren’t these venemous?” you gasped out as his teeth trailed past the loose collar of your shirt, exploring the terrain of your clavicle. He let out a rather sinister chuckle that punctured to your very guts. You very sincerely prayed that they weren’t dripping with venom, even more so when his teeth sank past the skin barrier. The dull pain wasn’t accompanied by the rush of agony (like you half-expected) but traces of pleasure as his tongue soothed the throbbing ache at the juncture of your neck. 

“Not when I don’t want them to be,” the hushed words soaked into your neck, with the air causing you to shiver slightly. You felt him smile against your skin. 

“Bastard,” you muttered as he drew back to proudly survey his handiwork. “Making me scared shitless for nothing.” 

“Well,” he pressed his body inwards even more so his teasing words could brush up against the shell of your ear. “Consider us even for you scaring me shitless.”

“I’ll show you even ,” you threatened, though the composure of your words quickly slipped when you took in the wash of maroon painting the ochre of his skin in a beautiful flush. He looked at you: eyes half-lidded in a reverent harmony of adoration and desire, the thin sheen of spit glossing his lips, and the rapid rise and fall of his chest reaching a brilliant crescendo. Heavens, I want him .  

Your fingers easily found the rough thread of his linen collar and tugged his neck sharply towards you. It was a vulnerable, blank canvas for you to mark as you pleased. Beneath your hands, you felt his surprised intake of air reverberate out of his throat. And my , what a pretty throat it was! Your eyes skimmed over the tiny, almost translucent scarlet scales dotting that neck, before zeroing in on faint parallel lines running around it - almost like gills , though you were sure they were merely decorative when he was human. 

Target found. 

Before you could even think it over, your lips had already met the poor, unfortunate bullseye. Score . Miguel stiffened, and you would’ve pulled back (you swear!) - yet, the deep groan you felt through your lips rather than heard shook you out of your stupor. You knew he felt your grin against his throat; really, who was the desperate one now?

By now, you were sure his neck would soon blossom with pretty, bruised plum shades. He was breathing very heavily, and the deep satisfaction building in your stomach threatened to spill out. 

You pulled back with a crisp pop , surveying your masterpiece with a critical eye. Perfect . This silence, this heavy silence that settled, was broken by the two of you catching your breath (it was never silent with the cry of the gulls and waves whispering against the hull anyway, but you could feel the quiet).

“Well,” he said, quite hoarsely. And that was the extent of what you both could muster up in terms of words. Well, indeed . Had it not been for the sound of voices registering in your ears, you’re sure you would’ve stayed in that trance for quite some time. 

Shit . 

If you were correct, fast approaching was Jessica and Lyla, and you were still wrapped around-

“Human!” 

The exultant cry of Lyla, and the accompanying footsteps of Jessica, elicited within you a speed you hadn’t thought possible. Hastily, you disentangled yourself from Miguel (who was absolutely no help, sending an amused look your way instead of assisting you). You looked much too suspicious for someone having a casual conversation - was it the over-innocent posture, or the too-rough clothing? 

“Lyla!” 

A genuine smile washed over your face as she came into view, burbling away in a large, water-filled bucket Jessica held. You almost missed Jessica’s amused expression flickering at you when she set the bucket down so you could crouch and coo at Lyla, and you certainly didn’t miss the pointed expression she shot Miguel. “So, you guys caught up , huh.” 

Really, between the scrutinising tone, and the complete lack of a question mark in her statement - it made your throat go dry in embarrassment. 

“Yeah,” you managed to squeak up from your crouch, to where Jessica was currently trying very hard not to laugh. “I got promoted.”

“Ohmygosh, you accepted?” Lyla’s very enthusiastic repertoire of tumbles ended up splashing you with cold water; the cold droplets effectively quelled your white-hot skin.”You’re our captain?”

“ Aye ,” you affirmed - much too eager to change the subject. “I’ll be running ship from now.”

Maybe you stumbled over your words a bit, maybe you didn’t. But at the end of the day, it was of no consequence. Here, in the midday sun, surrounded by gentle waves lapping at the hull and the distant (read: teasing) chatter of your new crew, it didn’t truly matter. 

No, you’d move forward, just like always; though, this time you had significantly Better Company.