#dagger is a snake but he is also a rat and he is also a cat and

[wraithsoutlaws]

"Look at me."

[taking-thyme]

🌅 Lucifer Deity Guide 🌅

Note: This is inspired by both my own experiences with Lucifer and the information I read on @scarletarosa's blog and her devotional guide to him. Please go read that one too!!

The divine rebel, Lucifer is the light of truth and divine wisdom; an ancient light which shines through the darkness, representing illumination. He is the driving force of innovation, liberation and transformation. According to Scarletarosa, who actively works with Lucifer and was told this by him, he was the first-born god of the Universe created by the supreme deity, the Source. He is so incredibly ancient and beautiful. Lilith was created to be his counterpart, the Queen of Heaven. However, Jehovah took the throne of heaven from Lucifer and cast him and his followers into hell. Most of them lost their connection to heaven and their energy became dark and intense. Jehovah claimed the throne of heaven and set himself up as the one true god, manipulating humans into betraying their original deities. Thus, Lucifer became the King of Hell and has been scorned by Christians for millenia. 

God of: Illumination, Light, Darkness, Change, Rebirth, Challenges, Innovation, Logic, Truth, Knowledge, Wisdom, Strategy, Persuasion, Revolution, Luxury, Pleasure, Freedom, The Arts and The Morning Star (“Morning Star” is another name for the planet Venus)

Symbols: Sigil of Lucifer, The Morning Star, Violins and Fiddles (instruments traditionally associated with him)

Plants and Trees: Rose, Belladonna, Mulberry, Patchouli, Myrrh, Min, Tobacco, Marigold, Lilies, Hyacinth, Sage

Crystals: Amethyst, Black Obsidian, Onyx, Garnet, Selenite, Rose Quartz

Animals: Black Animals in general, Dragons, Snakes, Owls, Eagles, Ravens, Crows, Rams, Foxes, Pigs,  Bats, Rats, Moths, Swans

Incense: Rose, Frankincense, Patchouli, Myrrh

Colors: Black, Red, Silver, Emerald Green, Gold

Tarot: The Devil

Planets: The Morning Star, Venus

Day: Monday and Friday

Consort: Lilith

Children: Naema, Aetherea and many others

How was he traditionally worshipped?

There is not much to say about how Lucifer was historically worshiped seeing as he wasn’t worshiped at all for a large chunk of human history. He seems to have been worked with in some capacity according to the Gesta Treverorum, written in 1231, which is where we first see the term Luciferian being used to refer to his worship. This was by a woman named Lucardis for a religious circle, who was said to lament to Lucifer in private and prayed to him. However, the term Luciferians was later applied to basically any groups Christians didn’t like and wanted to fight, as one might expect. However, the modern Luciferian movement also sheds light on how Lucifer is worshiped. For Luciferians, enlightenment is the ultimate goal. Their basic principles highlight truth, freedom of will and fulfilling one’s ultimate potential, and encourage the same in all of us. Traditional dogma is shunned because Luciferians believe that humans do not need deities or the threat of eternal punishment to know what is good and the right thing to do. All ideas are to be tested before being accepted, and even then one should remain critical because knowledge is fluid and ever-changing. Regardless of whether Luciferians view Lucifer as a deity or an archetype, he is a representation of ultimate illumination and exploration in the name of personal growth. 

Epithets

Phanes

The Morning Star

Light-bringer

The First-born

Prince of Darkness

Son of Morning

The Glory of Morning

Lord of the Lunar Sphere

The First Light

Offerings

Red Wine, Whiskey (especially Jack Daniels), Champagne, Pomegranate Juice, Black Tea (especially earl grey), Chocolate (especially dark chocolate), Cooked Goat Meat, Venison, Apples, Pomegranates, Honey, Good Quality Cigars, Tobacco, Daggers and Swords, Silver Rings, Emeralds and Emerald Jewelry, Goat Horns, Black Feathers, Seductive Colognes, Red Roses, Dead Roses, Crow Skulls, Bone Dice, Devotional Poetry and Artwork, Classical Music (especially violin)

Devotional Acts

Acts of self-improvement, spiritual awakening and evolution, knowledge-seeking and dedication to spirituality ; Shadow Work ; Working to overcome your ego to become wiser ; Defending those in need ; Working to better yourself without being too self critical ; Fighting against tyranny and bigotry whenever you encounter it

Altar Decorations

Black or Red Candles, Snake and Dragon Figurines, His sigil, Roses, Fancy Chess Boards and Playing Cards, Silver Jewlery and ornaments, Black feathers, Goat horns

Appearance

For me Lucifer usually appears as a tall light-skinned man with long fiery red hair (so red it looks like it’s been dyed), a sophisticated face with a killer jawline, passionate eyes and dressed in a fancy black suit. From all my experiences with him and what I’ve heard from other followers, it seems Lucifer and most demons dress in full suits and tuxedos. 

Personality

Lucifer is nothing if not charming. He’s a protector first and foremost - one that always works to help you better yourself, but a protector nonetheless. He feels like a protective older brother taking care of you while your parents are away. He is a very complex entity, deeply wise and eloquent. He is more serious than one might expect for a demon given their popular depictions in our culture as chaotic forces of evil, but Lucifer is full of courage and love. I often feel him with me even when I’m not doing things related to him. He is proud of his follower’s accomplishments and congratulates them on a job well done, though he also reminds them that the job is never truly over. Growth is constant. Lucifer is the epitome of growth, blunt and gentle at the same time, telling you what you need to do and giving you space to figure out how to do it. 

Lucifer values resilience, the pursuit of self-betterment, intellectualism, courage, open-mindedness and responsibility in individuals and wants to see his followers develop these qualities. He is constantly rooting for you to reach your full potential. He won’t hold your hand the entire way, but he will help you take steps in the right direction. Lucifer, like all deities, is different for everyone and will adjust his approach depending on your needs.

^ The Sigil of Lucifer

[tarnishedinquirer]

Beneath Stormveil

Here the damage seemed the worst. In places, the walls were red and raw, almost as if they were bleeding. I continued down and reached a room with a very interesting painting.

It was Stormhill, before Stormveil Castle was ever built. The world looked so much wilder and more vibrant back then. The colors were deep blacks and rich greens, not the washed-out greys and pale greens of current Limgrave. The place that would once become the Chapel of Anticipation was part of the mainland, separated by a waterfall rather than a chasm. There's no trace of the black stone pillars that underlay the entire land. The Stormfoot Catacombs are open, with no door. And, while something was gleaming gold, it sure didn't look like the Erdtree.

Yet the Divine Tower and bridge were already there, and already so ancient the bridge had started to crumble. Curious.

After examining the painting as much as I could, I unlocked the door back to the Site of Grace and continued downward.

This was by far the oldest and most neglected portion of the castle. It's unlikely it would get any light except at high noon. The only creatures down here were vermin. Giant bats and rats, the scavengers and dwellers in the dark.

Now that I was down here, it became clear that this was a dumping ground for the castle above. Specifically, it seemed that all the statues removed in the various ideological purges were just shoved into the abyss.

There's the expected statues of women holding ewers or missing their hands, but there's a few statues that stand out to me. They're almost completely buried, so possibly the oldest statues ever dumped down here, and depict hooded figures either holding a book or holding a dagger. Unfortunately, I don't have any context to interpret them. Maybe I'll find some more later.

A scarab almost misses my notice, were it not for the sound they make. I track it down and it's carrying an unusual Sorcery called Rancorcall.

I say it's unusual because using it would require almost as much faith as intellect. That unnerved me a little. Sorcery is supposed to be the result of consistent, observable phenomenon. Concrete things that may be more difficult to observe and comprehend, but are ultimately just as real as a sword. To apply your intellect to the task of how best to surrender it to a higher power seemed perverse to me.

The voice said:

Sorcery of the servants of Death. Summons vengeful spirits that chase down foes. Once though lost, this ancient death hex was rediscovered by the necromancer Garris.

Going on my theory that scarabs only appear where abilities like ashes of war, sorceries, or incantations are used, and somehow they gather up some invisible residue to make their spheres, I would suspect that Garris must've been here at some point. Perhaps this is where he even developed his techniques? I doubt he's still here.

To draw a connection, I found the Rancor Pot recipe in the Tombsward Catacombs. It has a similar effect of summoning vengeful spirits, though different methods. Am I to assume Garris might also have been there? That might explain how Deathroot got inside...

Now I came to a cliff overlooking a root-choked and damp chamber below. Bones littered the floor. Some were stacked up in drifts, but there were also complete skeletons resting in what looked like old, rotted canoes. Perhaps a vestige of some water burial in the past? At one time, they might have sent the dead over the waterfall that once ran through here. Once that dried up, they instead just buried the dead in their canoes.

But what interested me most was the grand baldachin, now rotted and torn, draped across the chamber beyond. Something important must be there.

Before I could approach, a terrible creature burst out of the ground. I'd seen its ilk once before, in the Fringefolk Hero's Grave. An Ulcerated Tree Spirit, a great writhing snake-root, like a serpentine mandrake. Even as I knew its movements, it was still so erratic that it was hard to predict at times. As it slammed me against the walls, I knew now where the drifts of bones had come from.

Once I had slain the beast. I was free to recover its treasures, both here and in the chamber beyond. Much like the last, it dropped a Golden Seed.

As for the chamber... I can scarcely describe it. I'll try to sketch it but I don't think I can do justice to the sheer presence of this thing. Despite looking like a stone carving, I knew on an instinctual level that it was alive.

It was a face, or approximation thereof. Yet it could not have been more inhuman. It at once looked floral, fungal, and animal. The lower half of the face was like an oyster mushroom, and from there emerged thick tendrils like thorny vines. The upper half had a disturbingly human nose but two oddly angled eyes, or at least eye sockets. The lids themselves were empty.

The whole thing burst through the stone wall on a thick body like a salamander, though if it had arms, they had not emerged from the wall. And its was very clearly a violent entry, with rubble piled up around it. Nearby, there was a bloodstain, and a corpse holding an item in its hands.

Oh hell. The bloodstain was Rogier. If he can't see Grace anymore, then can he even come back? Is he just dead for real now? I couldn't even see what got him but it looked bad. It lifted him up and seemed to impale him from multiple angles. I hope he's okay. I actually kinda like the guy. It was rare to talk to someone both intellectual and down to earth like that.

The corpse had a... Prince of Death's Pustule?!

A fetid pustule taken from facial flesh. It is said that this pustule came from the visage of the Prince of Death, he who used to be called Godwyn. As First Dead of the demigods, it's said he's buried deep under the capital, at the Erdtree's roots.

It is said, it is said, it is said. I hate it when the Voice uses weasel words. Who says?

If Godwyn was the first to die, then it is his death that created the Deathroot. Deathroot sprouts similar faces to the one on this pustule. The same milky white eyes, the same thorny tendrils... There was a couple things that puzzled me. I noted fish fins on the Deathroot growing in various catacombs and Summonwater Village. Despite its aquatic appearance, this face held no trace of such details, resembling an amphibian more than a fish. Second, while the Deathroot and Pustule share the milky white eyes, this visage does not. Instead, its sockets are empty.

Third, if we take the voice at face value and say that Godwyn actually is buried under the capital... why did this face burst out of the southeast wall? The capital is to the northeast. I can buy the Greattree roots spreading throughout the Lands Between, but I'd still expect such a creature to burrow through from the correct direction. The only things off that direction are the Stormfoot Catacombs and the Fringefolk Hero's Grave. And since the painting confirms that at least one of those was here before the castle, I find myself doubting if this is even Godwyn at all, or some other, forgotten Prince of Death.

I'll review my notes about those places and see if I can gain any insight, but arbitrary skepticism doesn't do any good. I have to assume that this is Godwyn, or at least an aspect of him, until strong evidence presents itself otherwise.

Still, to quote the only cleric I ever got on with, "Doubting is what I do."

With my investigation concluded, the only way to go was up. Thankfully there was a conveniently placed, if alarmingly tall, rope ladder. I began what was sure to be a very long ascent.

I had at last gotten answers on the rot infecting Stormveil, but they only left me with more questions.

Who are the dagger and book statues? Why were they purged?

If Godfrey built the earliest Stormveil, who built the tower and bridge?

Is that face Godwyn? If not, who could it possibly be?

If it is Godwyn, why would it come from the wrong direction?

Why does this face look so different from the other faces? Why is it missing its eyes?

Who is Garris? What was he doing beneath Stormveil?

What happened to Rogier?

Why was he looking for this?

[ink-and-dagger]

astro rug sex plzzzz

Me? Inky-Slowpoke-Dagger churning out a fic request just two days after it was sent in? It's a bloody Christmas miracle. Also yeah the title's a carpet pun. Sue me.

Shag Rug

Silco x Reader || Silco x Astrid || Established Relationship || NSFW || MDNI || Messy passionate floor sex || Oral [m!receiving] || Two horny idiots in love || Carpet burns || Wc: 1.9K

Written for Astro but can be read as general AFAB!Reader

Drink With Me Masterlist🥃

It’s a wonder you even made it into the office.

With how carelessly you’d rushed up the stairwell with Silco – far more concerned with ensuring your mouths remained connected than with maintaining safe footing on the steps. And with how you’d ricocheted down the hallway together like a horny pinball. Rattling the hanging decor as you crashed into the walls again and again, hopelessly entangled, tearing at each other with hands and lips and teeth.

And so it doesn’t surprise you in the least that you never make it to the bedroom.

Silco’s shoulders hit the office door hard, and it slams shut beneath your combined weight; pressed as you are against his front with your hands fisted in the lapels of his coat. Your teeth clack against his with the ferocity of your kiss, and he repays in kind by shoving his tongue at least two-thirds of the way down your throat.

Janna you love it when he gets messy. Such a change from his usual pristine control.

Although it hardly seems fair that he remains fully dressed (still in his outerwear, no less) whilst you yourself appear to have misplaced a shoe, and your top is clinging on for dear life after the loss of several buttons. But neither of you currently possesses the patience to achieve full nakedness. So you prioritise. 

The crack of your knees hitting the floor is softened somewhat by the rug, and though your hands fumble in your urgency, you’ve done this enough times now that you’ve mastered the puzzle box that is Silco’s trousers.

You tear the fabric down around his thighs and his cock springs free. You had other plans in mind, but the temptation you’re faced with now is too great to overcome.

“Fuck,” the crown of Silco’s head thuds back against the door as you clumsily capture the bobbing head of his cock between your swollen lips and set to lavishing it. Whatever you lack in finesse, you make up for in wet frenzy.

He watches you beneath lust heavy lashes as you tongue and suck his glans until it’s as flushed and glistening as his parted, kiss-marred lips. Fingers tangle in your hair, tightening with a rough groan from above as you take him properly into your mouth, cheeks hollowing to glide hot and tight down his shaft.

Silco’s hips buck as he bumps the back of your throat, and you let out a needy whine, hand snaking between your own legs to palm your clothed crotch in a bid for friction. The fingers in your hair twist and pull, delicious pain blooming across your scalp as Silco yanks you off his cock, leaving you connected only by a thick string of saliva.

“Need you. Now,” he pants, chipped teeth and mismatched eyes flashing with a lawless, desperate hunger.

For the most part your communication with Silco is excellent. You’re in-tune with each other to a point that transcends verbal interaction. But it seems those unseen radio frequencies are currently scrambled by a swarm of hormones – because while you make to stand, Silco makes to kneel.

You crash into each other, losing your balance entirely and tumbling backwards into a tangled heap on the rug.

But Sump-Rats are hardly known for their decorum.

Between two pairs of scrabbling hands your trousers and remaining boot are cast aside, and then he’s swooping down upon you, his high collared coat fanning out to shroud you both like some vampiric cloak. And you’re so damn worked up that he sinks inside you with no resistance.

Your mouth falls open in an embarrassingly wanton moan at the brisk pace Silco sets. Each thrust culminating in a lewd slap of skin that gradually worsens with how your slick begins to coat your thighs. You cross your ankles within the crimson-lined cavern of his coat, pressing your heels into his lower back and rolling your hips up to match his feverish rutting. Baring your throat to accept each glistening jewel he sucks into your skin. Combing fingers through salt and pepper strands, twisting, tugging. Keeping his body pressed flush against yours. Ignoring the coarse fibres beneath your back, even as your shirt bunches up to your waist.

Completely, utterly lost within this incendiary cyclone of passion you’ve both conjured.

“Will you ever. learn. to behave?” Silco growls, punctuating each word with a snap of his hips.

Well that’s hardly fair. What were you supposed to do when he returned to the club from his dockside meeting? Just ignore the fact that he looked so yummy with sea-breeze mussed hair? You’re only human.

Besides. He didn’t have to come over to the bar when you gestured. Nor take a seat. Nor accept your offer for a cocktail. But he did, and you were therefore well within your rights to use the cover of passing him his glass to quietly inform him just how fuckable he looked.

He'd even responded with a dirty remark of his own, low enough not to be overheard by any loitering clubbers. And really he should know by now that you never back down from a challenge. He's just as much to blame as you for the resulting volley of surreptitious comments that had passed between you, each filthier than the last, until he'd snapped. Storming behind the bar and snatching your wrist, frogmarching you through the club and up to the balcony – the wrathful Eye of Zaun dealing with an unruly employee in the eyes of those who'd turned to watch your journey.

“Is that re-eally want you want? For me to start –ughn– behaving?” You clench your core around him to prove your point, and his brow twists.

“No,” the single word is closer to a whine than anything else.

“G-good. It’s much more fu–uhn misbehaving.”

“Brat,” he growls, more gristle than voice, “Beautiful. Insufferable. Brat.”

His lips crash into yours in a flaming kiss, capturing and swallowing the ragged whine which pushes from your throat as his quick thrusts morph into indulgently deep grinds.

“But you’re mine. My-ngh beautiful brat,” he babbles against your mouth between desperate kisses and rasping grunts, “You drive me m-mad. You—Intolerable. Hngh. Menance— Gods I love you—”

His words set you alight like an oil soaked wick and leave you burning. You’re never in doubt of Silco’s feelings for you, but he’s a man much more comfortable expressing himself through action. It’s a rarity to hear him voice his affections so plainly; those three words usually only reserved for moments of particular sentimentality, or instances of uncontrolled passion, such as now.

“S-Silc-oh,” you mewl, feeling for all the world like you truly are aflame. Driven closer to ultimate rhapsody by each rolling drive of his hips; both carnal and sensual all at once.

His fingertips drag clumsily over your features, “I adore these eyes. These lips—”

Your skin is on fire—

“Your heart—”

Like. Actually on fire.

“Hot ass,” you gasp.

Silco smirks, “That too.”

“No – I mean my ass— C-carpet burn.”

He stills instantly, right eye widening as he makes to pull out—

“Nononono,” you beg, locking your ankles and grabbing at his sleeves, “Don’t stop. Just— lift.” You lift your bottom a touch and he catches on, hooking his arms beneath your thighs, gripping your hips, and rising fully onto his knees. 

The relief is immediate – your buttocks and most of your spine now elevated right off the rug. Half of you misses the intimate press of his body, but the other half of you thrums at this bizarrely hot bridge pose you find yourself in. The way you can look right up the length of your own arched torso to where he’s buried inside you. The way the position grinds his cock against your sweet spot just so.

“Yes— yes!—” your ragged chant rings out in approval as he picks up his sinful rhythm once more. Watching you greedily; how prone and lewd you are stretched beneath him. Long thumbs pressing into your hip bones, fingers digging into flesh, your legs squeezing tighter and tighter around him as your pleasure begins to mount��

—and slip away with the swiftly worsening burn of your shoulder blades; now bearing the brunt of your weight and offered little-to-no protection from the spiteful fibres of the rug by your flimsy shirt.

“No— no—” you whimper, flinging your arm over your face to hide your sulking pout.

But Silco is always your salvation. Silly of you to forget that irrefutable fact, really.

His grip on you shifts, tightens, and your vision darkens beneath his looming shadow only momentarily before you’re rolling. You come to a halt neatly straddled atop him.

“Your back—”

“Don’t worry about my back darling,” he insists, flattening out his coat beneath your knees to protect them from the rug, “I’m wearing more layers than you are.” He grabs your waist then, deepening the upward buck of his hips, “A-and I’m close.”

“Mmmn, my hero,” you swoon, leaning down to kiss him deeply, your pelvis rolling a passionate tempo that has you both breathing heavy, heady little sighs and moans into each other’s open mouths. Your fingers delve into the sea-salt-mussed locks that had lured you into this situation in the first place, messing the dark waves even further, “My handsome, magnificent hero. Love of my life.”

His green eye swirls liquid jade beneath a fan of lashes, the other molten amber in an obsidian sea, but both shine with an adoration that breaks your heart so beautifully.

“I would do anything – anything for you,” you vow between messy kisses, palms framing the narrow cut of his jaw, “Anything Silco. I’m yours – so completely.”

“Will you come for me sweetheart? Let me f-feel you. See you.”

There’s no need to confirm your answer, not when you’ve just promised him the world.

You steal one more bruising kiss, and your hands drag down Silco’s golden gilded torso as you straighten. Your thighs tremble not only from exertion, but from the explicit backbend you arch into, seeking to replicate the mind-blowing angle from before, reaching back to brace your hands upon his shins.

The snarl of approval Silco makes is more beast than man, and its rumblings spur you on. Fingers drilling into trousered flesh. Hips grinding in quick, feverish rolls. Chest pressing proudly outwards as his hand reaches up to splay upon your sternum, dragging down, down, until his thumb lands on your clit.

He doesn’t even need to move it. Your own rocking pelvis causes his pad to press and circle once, twice, three-times; and that is all that’s needed to send you flying.

You cry out your ecstasy, fingers drilling into his shins as you ride and grind your way through throbbing bursts of pleasure, each one battering your body like some tropical storm. Leaving you rain-drenched, exhilarated, howling euphoric laughter up to the thundering heavens.

But your true paradise lays below.

It’s in the elegant hands which wrap around your waist. The chipped pearls which peek between parted, kiss-stained lips. The eyes which in themselves contain full treasuries: emeralds and jade and turquoise, sun stones and garnets and onyx.

Paradise is in your name; uttered like a broken prayer as Silco finds his own paradise in you.

His warmth floods you, pulsing gushes between your thighs that have you sighing breathless praises. Telling him how beautiful he looks, with his hair all a mess and his face twisted in orgasmic ruin beneath you. So beautiful.

“Beautiful,” you whisper, finally collapsing atop his heaving chest.

His arms wind around you tight, holding you quietly close whilst you both catch your breath.

“Does it hurt?” Silco asks after a time, sliding a hand down your spine to stroke lightly over the smarting-raw skin of your backside.

“Mm just a little,” you hum, pressing up on his chest to drop three lazy kisses upon his lips between your words, “But I’m certain my hero will rub lotion on it for me.”

Silco’s mouth curls up at the corner, “Yes,” he chuckles, “I’m certain he will.”

[probablyaparadox]

Midnight Headcannons for Hiveswap/Friendsim Characters (Part 1)

These may be very well liked, or very controversial idk. If you write a fic (unlikely but who knows) based on any of these then PLEASE lmk. Part 1 because some I may feel uninspired + I don't wanna do all of them in one post. Xefros Tritoh: THE BOY HIMSELF.

He is a semi closeted midwest emo (I mean look at him) and a fully closeted stereotypical emo aesthetic enjoyer.

Ever since he started the Grubbels with Dammek, he's actually gotten quite good at singing, and rapping. (this is based on the line that Dammek passive aggressively hinted that Xefros needed vocals practice, and If I were Xefros my insecure ass would start practicing REGULARLY.)

If he were not plagued by constant anxiety he would sleep a lot, and be a very sleepy person (Sloth lusus). Or rather he requires more sleep than the average troll, and when he gets it he's very energetic. Because of his training with Dammek to "sleep anywhere" this would result in him frequently falling alseep while standing if he didn't get his proper sleep.

I want him to kill Trizza with a baseball bat. Off with their heads and hit a home run. Preferably with a baseball bat covered in nails.

He's trans. That one's not from me I've heard it tho and it's cute as hell imo headcannon immediately accepted.

His crush is a tealblood "reporter" (hobbyist photographer and blogger) who wears rollerskates (manic pixie dream boy.) I say this purely because Idk what traits Idarat and Tegiri have over Tagora besides being more masc and having glasses. And they are both not rat men unlike Tagora (/aff). Anyway because of lack of information I say what I want.

Last one because I genuinely feel like this was in the game but I'm not. Certain. Anyway Xefros looks so generic that so long as he isn't wearing his sign it would be genuinely impossible for any drone to find him based on his face. Dammek:

He got most of the parts for the weapon off of trolls craiglist

he will either instantly obliterate Jude's sense of self and self worth and have to work up from there to realize he needs to be nicer or he'll lose his moirail (he already has) or he will be shockingly ok to Jude and just be closed off and he will have to work up to expressing affection normally instead of survivalist training.

he's a little robotics geek he will get his hands on a cell phone and fucking destroy it when he gets to earth./joking to early. He MAY destroy a tv. I think based on his building skills he would be fascinated by earth technology.

the cameras installed in Xefros' hive have lasers. Xefros does not know this.

He gets his fancy normal disks from mallek (I've also heard this from another person- I would credit but I can't find it at the moment) Mallek:

Has 13 piercings. (IF YOU KNOW YOU KNOW)

he's either a part of the rebellion already, or will be soon enough

He actually knows a mutant which makes him being "cool with mutants" an even weirder more awkward thing to say

he bullies people on 4chan. The homestuck earth equivalent of 4chan. But still earth. he finds it informative and he likes giving their computers the types of bugs that will make them only play slitherio.

His strife specibus is a serrated curved dagger (snake fang like almost)

He has a snake tattoo on his right thigh.

He intends to get sleeve tattoos, he just hasn't perfected the design yet, or found someone he trusts to do it.

Hey you know that character who we've gotten like 1 concept art of. Yea Jerann him. They're boyfriends. Sorry I don't make the rules but he gets a fish nerd boyfriend.

He keeps oblong meat products in his house in case Diemen ever wants to crash.

He's going to give Xefros a piercing when Xefros becomes an emo boy /hj Joey: (I know she should've come first but she's not one of my favouritesss-)

Joey would lose her shit if she saw the barbie movie or Murdoch Mysteries

On a similar note, she would do barbenheimer for/with jude

She has a slight fear of clowns now (reasonable)

when she gets scared while on alternia, she looks up at the sky, and the stars, and thinks of her mom

I think that Joey and Marsti have an excellent opportunity to get along. A vet is just a doctor for a different species after all, and I'm sure just as Joey would be eager to learn Marsti would be eager to teach and get a bit flattered and someone respecting her aspirations and knowledge. Marsti:

Has the nickname Mars

If Marsti could dress up more she would go for a steampunk streamlined vibe.

In the route where Marsti ditches the player at Gahlek's house, she steals a book on her way out

Marsti survives the train crash floating in her bucket.

Marsti wanted to go to Jeevik week because she liked the challenge cleaning up after it might bring.

[theclaravoyant]

AN ~ Okay, Stede can have a little breakdown. As a treat. For me, to cathart my feelings into because Thursday is going to Kill Me Dead.

Also for @fictober-event’s Fictober 2023 prompt: “I may not get another chance to say this." Masterpost of my Fictober OFMD fics

Heavily inspired by the 2x08 trailers but written before it aired. Contains major S2 spoilers.

Fandom: Our Flag Means Death Characters/Relationships: Stede Bonnet, Izzy Hands. Tags: Whump, Hurt/Comfort. Content Warnings for Canon Compatible Everything (ie, violence, self loathing, references to mental illness and suicidal ideation) coz this is the Stede Bonnet Going Thru It Fic, ft. everyone else also going thru it

Also on AO3 (2700wd)

Panic // Pride

Stede tries to swallow the lump in his throat as he looks at himself in the mirror. He tugs at the jacket, but he can’t get it to sit right. Ironically, he thinks to himself, it’s kind of fitting. This is a navy jacket and he is a coward.

It’s my battle jacket, his mind supplies, and he thinks wistfully of his embroidered yellow robe. Another beautiful thing, lost to the ocean; just like the bright hibiscus and bougainvillea of the Pirates’ Republic is now lost; just like the delicate fanlike sails of the Red Flag and her sisters are lost.

Wistfulness abruptly turns to heartbreak. He still remembers the shriek, the wail, the way the utter despair tore its way out of Zheng’s chest. Everything she had built, in ruins, in moments.

History’s Greatest Pirates.

Stede’s hands shake on the buttons of the jacket. He clenches them into fists, trying to discipline them. He doesn’t have time for this now.

Little Baby Bonnet. Are you gonna cry? Baby Bonnet’s gonna cry?

Memories shoot through him like shrapnel through sailcloth.

“You did this to them,” Rick had hissed, holding the dagger to his throat, marching him into captivity. Smoke and gunpowder roiled around them. Part of it had been part of the plan. Part of it had been desperately, desperately, desperately, trying to avoid slipping into this exact spiral. “Gentleman Pirate. Ha. You’re all alike. You’re a snake. You’re a scourge.”

Stede Bonnet is not a human.

A violin splashed into the water, and its owner followed it into the depths. The spiral had started then too, but he’d pushed it down.

You’re a monster.

A plague.

Blood on his face.

He’d pushed it down like he’d pushed Ed against that wall. Drowned it in those big brown eyes who’d nodded and begged and needed just as badly as he did. Who’d whispered sweet nothings and filthy ones too and that was supposed to be beautiful.

You defile beautiful things.

“Last night was a mistake.”

Mary’s wedding dress had been beautiful too, in its way. It probably would have been more so if he’d been as desperately in love with her as he’d hoped, or she with him. God, he hadn’t thought about their wedding night in a while but ever since Ed he’d been thinking about firsts. He’d always expected the first time would be something like a dream. Not like a medical procedure, peeling back from each other only that which was strictly necessary to do what needed doing. She’d laughed with Doug, enjoyed herself. Never with him. It was always cold and quiet with him. He’d never quite shaken the way it had felt like something he’d done to her.

“You and I did this to him,” Izzy had said. “ And we can’t let the crew suffer any more for our mistakes.

The crew. Half abandoned, presumably to starve. Half dragged down with Edward in his damn-near-suicide-attempt and starving anyway. Crowded around the table where they’ve killed the albatross. Not to mention Lucius, who’s sharp around the edges now. He’s getting better but he’ll never be the same. He’ll never get the taste of rat out of his mouth, he’ll never look at a dog the same way again. He’ll probably never scrape another barnacle again and that part he’s probably not all that bothered about but the point is: it’s irreversible, the damage. The plague he’s wrought upon them.

Then there’s Izzy. Izzy Hands, who’d had his heart broken and his leg shot off and festered and cut and shot himself in the temple and somehow, somehow, dragged himself to life again to save the crew Stede had abandoned.

And unabandoned again. On a whim.

Your own family.

“I don’t want your old food.”

He remembers Alma storming off from the table. It cuts through him like a knife. Worse - Louis all but seizing in the night. Screaming and whimpering, caught in a nightmare. Mary sat on the side of his bed, glaring at the book he’d left there, glaring at Stede when he’d come in to try and help. Shielding his own son’s face from him like a mother bear shields her cubs.

“I told you, Stede!” she yelled. “I told you he’s too young for your stupid pirates! Look what you’ve done to him!”

“Who are you, again?”

You used to be a killer.

And here you are. Unscathed.

He can’t breathe. The room spins. His own words echo in his head:

“You’re panicking!”

He’s running through the forest in his nightclothes. He can still taste Ed’s kiss and he can still smell Chauncey’s gunpowder and the combination is sickening. He’s got to find a ship back to Barbados.

“You’re a coward!”

He’s running through a different forest; breath quick, feet not as light as they need to be. They never are. He’s praying he doesn’t fall flat on his face like last time. The boys are throwing things today. He isn’t ready. He’s running away. 

He’s running away. Isn’t he always?

You’re a coward.

You’re a coward.

You’re a coward.

That’s all you’ll ever be.

Fuck the jacket, fuck the mirror. He’s running away. He’s fallen on his hands and knees and he’s running away to the nearest, smallest, darkest place he can find.

Little Baby Bonnet fucking cries.

–

Izzy flexes his shoulders with a scowl. His posture is perfect, that’s not the problem, but he hates how this thing sits on his shoulders anyway. It reminds him of that asshole’s smug smile when he’d come crawling back to quote-unquote “betray” Bonnet again. It was all part of the plan. Which unfortunately meant he couldn’t stab the fucker in the throat like he wanted to. The whole point of this was for the trap to snap shut around them first. To crawl into the belly of the snake and cut its head off from the inside. But the whole point of traps is that you don’t snap them on purpose. Once you do, you’re playing the hunter’s game. It makes him antsy, and he’s not used to being antsy.

“Are you done, Bonnet?” he hisses through the door.

He gets no response.

“Hurry up, ya twat, it doesn’t fucking matter if your epaulettes are off kilter. They’re only playing dress-ups to make you bow for them anyway.”

Still nothing. Nothing except the clench of the knot in his stomach that warns him something is wrong.

Fuck.

Izzy pushes open the door to the little chamber where Stede’s been getting dressed. His regular clothes are draped over the back of the chair as he’s wont to do - a habit kept from his days of dressing in finery - but it’s the lace cravat that lays abandoned on the floor. Its wearer is nowhere to be seen. But he can be heard, quietly sobbing from the closet in the corner.

“Bonnet?” Izzy calls, and resists the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose so hard he snaps it. “What are you doing in there?”

“I- “ Bonnet chokes, still clearly bawling his eyes out. “I’ll be out in a minute. Just dropped a cuff link.”

Izzy hears a crunch beneath the unicorn’s hoof. He sighs and scoops the offending cuff link into his hand. Part of him wants to throttle the man but he’s too exhausted and scared to make it a convincing walloping. He’s got to save his wolves’ teeth for the English. They never worked all that well on Stede anyway.

“Found it,” he says.

“Oh, okay,” comes Stede’s quivering voice. “Uh. Good.”

He’s still terrified. Still not coming out and probably increasingly giving less of a shit about a pretense for why. Christ. Izzy looks to the ceiling. Calypso be with him; he’s trying something new.

He drops himself to the floor outside the closet with his back against the wall.

“You’re not crazy to be scared, you know,” he says.

Stede sniffles.

“This is big. This is bad. Your learning curve has been, uh. Steep.” He winces. He doesn’t want to imagine this walking slapstick in a real fight either. But here they are. “But you’re a pirate now. This is the life of a pirate. Did you think Oluwande was kidding around about that Chauncey bloke? Life as a pirate is life under the Sword of Damocles, always.”

Stede sniffles again.

“You know about the Sword of Damocles?”

“Course I fucking know about the Sword, Bonnet. You’re not the only one who can read, you prick.” Izzy sneers. It bursts out of him in a rage and he’s trying to remember he needs a gentler hand. He takes a deep breath. “Sorry. I’m a bit of an arse when I’m scared.”

“You’re an arse all the time,” Stede retorts automatically. Ah, there he is.

And now he’s getting it.

And maybe Izzy’s coming to some sort of understanding too. It actually feels kind of nice, to admit he’s fucking petrified and know with deep and abiding certainty, for once, that he’s not going to get his throat slit for it. Not by Bonnet anyway.

He lets the back of his head fall back against the wall.

“What are you scared of, Bonnet?” he asks. “Can’t be the English or you never would have started with this pirate schtick. Contrary to popular belief I don’t think you’re that much of an idiot. So what is it?”

“I’m… scared…” Stede attempts. 

“I’m… scared…” 

Give the man a chance, Izzy. He clenches his hand into a fist and demands patience.

“I’m scared it’s all my fault.”

“What is?”

“Everything!” 

Oh.

“Everything,” Stede repeats. “Ed. Mary. My family. Your leg. It’s all my fault. Even Zheng, I- if I hadn’t left Rick behind with Jackie he never would have-”

“Never would have what?”

“- had his nose cut off and gotten all weird about it and tried to take down all the pirates.”

Izzy blinks.

“Stede.” He’s so shocked he first names the man. He corrects himself. “Captain. With all due respect that is the stupidest shit I have ever heard. Do you hear yourself? You refused to endanger yourself and your crew over some no-name blowhard, Jackie defends her property, Prince Pricky gets a complex about it and that’s your fault?”

“Huh.” Stede thinks on it. “I guess if you put it like that…”

“The fucking English have been trying to kill us all since before you or I were twinkles in our mothers’ eyes. And Edward and I have been on and off trying to kill each other since way before you were a twinkle in his.” Izzy snorted, a pang of pain shooting through him and not just because of his stupid leg. "I meant what I said. You’re good for him. You saved his life, did you know that?”

“Yeah, he told me. I was a mermaid in his coma dream.”

“What? No, I’m talking about before that.”

“Before?”

Izzy sighs. If there wasn’t such a high chance he was about to be Hung By The Neck Until Dead he’d never fucking dare open his mouth about Edward’s business. But Edward isn’t here. Thank God. And they might not be here much longer either. So here goes nothing.

“When we found you. He was… drowning. He was giving up. He had no purpose, no joy. Not a care in the world, not for love or money or his crew or nothing. The only way I knew how to help was to piss him off enough to keep the fire going and try to stop it picking off the rest of us. Then he heard about you. I didn’t get it at first. But I think I do now. He saw what you were doing, leaving a life that was killing you, and he needed that. He needed you in a way that he could never need…” Me. He swallows it. “Anyone else in this world.

“And that goes for the rest of the crew too. Those fucking insufferable clowns have undying love for you for a reason. Even if they don’t know it. You wanna talk about Lucius? How long do you think he would have lasted in a port town before he picked the wrong pocket or sucked the wrong cock? Now he’s got a stable job, a roof over his head and a love of his life. And Jim? On any other ship - any other ship - they’d have been tossed overboard for the sharks the second that beard came off and it wouldn’t have mattered a flying fart what they call themselves. Fuck, and Buttons? The man would have spent his life locked up in Bedlam if you hadn’t vouched for him. Now he’s free as a bird - literally, if Edward is to be believed, and he may be a suicidal maniac but he’s not deluded. Face it, Bonnet. You’re special. You just are. You save people. It’s just what you do.”

Finally, he runs out of words. He might not have ever strung more together at once in his life. It’s exhausting, this emotional vulnerability thing. But apparently, it works.

The closet door swings slowly open.

A somewhat bedraggled Stede walks out. His body moves slowly, but his eyes are surprisingly clear when he looks down at Izzy. He asks:

“And what about you?”

The gold paint on the unicorn leg is speckled by charcoal from all the explosions, but still it gleams. And surely, they both remember him swanning, as much as someone fighting off a panic attack can swan, out onto the deck with a full face of makeup behind none other than The Goddess Calypso. What happened to him was more than pain and rot and cutting out the toxins. It’s change. It’s courage. Any other day, he’d have all but begged Bonnet not to make him say it. But he might not get another chance. And he’s trying something new. So.

“ Your crew,” he says, “on pain of death hauled my sorry stinking behind into your secret passages and cut my leg off to save my life. Then they sat around and told a story about a little wooden boy.”

Sure, they’d bungled it into a story about a demon child who thirsted for blood. Or was it life? But the point had stuck. Fuck, and Archie hadn’t even met the man yet.

Tears fill Bonnet’s eyes again. Gentler ones, this time. In spite of himself, Izzy has to smile.

“Guess that’s me,” he says. “Or maybe you. You’re a real Pirate Captain now, Bonnet. What are you going to do about it?”

Stede holds out an arm, and helps pull Izzy to his feet. The ground feels steadier beneath him now, but he can’t quite shake all of it off. It’s going to take a lot more than being orange and sparkly to save them from the English, and Izzy’d be the first one to remind him of that too. 

“Is this you telling me to pull myself up by my bootstraps and get on with it, then?”

“No.” Izzy snorts. “It’s impossible to pull yourself upward by your bootstraps. They’re on your fucking boots. But this is me telling you that for my money, I think you’re ready to put your fucking noose back on and save our hides.”

Or die trying. But they’re on a roll, so he leaves that part unspoken and holds out the fistful of lace.

Stede draws himself up and makes sure his cuffs are done up tighter than any lawman would ever dare. He takes the cravat and fastens it around his own neck like he’s done every day for most of his life. He can tell Izzy Hands, in his own Izzy way, is fucking bursting with pride and he draws from it what strength he can and holds it out against his demons. He’s not used to people being proud of him. It’s nice. It’s powerful.

“Okay,” Izzy breathes, casting an eye upward. “Ready, Captain?”

It’s faint, but up on deck, a roll call of Capt. Stede Bartholemew Bonnet’s list of crimes is commencing. Ha. He has a list now. He’s kind of proud of that, too, actually.

He nods back.

“Let’s go.”

[annaizscribbling]

Ch 6.

Wordcount: 2706

Content warnings: Arguments. Choking. Paranoia.

Virgil came up upon the door at a swift speed. He was on a mission, and God help anything that got in his way. He was done avoiding and just getting out of the room as fast as possible to avoid a tense confrontation. He was over it.

The door was orangey, in that distinct shade that wood in the 90s and early 2000s seemed so fond of. It was a little chipped and worn down, as if it really was from back then. A wide collection of stickers adorned the door, all at varying levels of being peeled off or unrecognizable.

A cluster of cat stickers with encouragements around them were stuck on at eye level, some so fresh looking they could’ve been put there yesterday. A few others could have been there for a decade. A sticker of a knight was placed way up high, along with some Disney princesses, most of which were Cinderella, they were a bit older, with a few newer looking stickers from more recent princess movies. Towards the bottom of the door there was a sparser collection of smaller stickers, a few astronauts, a dinosaur, a few decidedly realistic animals, and a tiny unicorn, all on the much older side.

Lots of other, less organized stickers dotted the rest of the door, many of which were getting pretty gross looking from age. Though a few looked brand new. A few spiders, a begrudgingly adorably drawn rat, and an unsettlingly illustrated man with two faces.

Not subtle. Don’t act like it is.

Virgil doesn’t give them a second glance as he kicks the door open with his grungy sneaker and a loud snarl. It swings open with a creak and a crash as the other side of the doorknob slammed into the wall. He storms through the doorway without shutting it behind him.

His stomach turns in disgust and anger as he walks in on the revolting scene in front of him.

Patton and Janus are together at a small table, seated on a little chair on either side. Like a fucking tea party. Two long since drained, now empty cups are set iin front of them, a scornful piece of evidence that they had spent some quite time together.

Janus is holding a wine glass, Patton too. That’s new.

All of it is new. All of it. And all of it bad.

Patton had chosen to trust Janus of all people. Patton chose Janus’ advice. Patton chose Janus’ company over his own. Patton chose to ignore Virgil’s warning. Patton chose Janus. Patton chose Janus over Virgil.

He clenches his teeth, glaring daggers at the pair of dirty traitors.

The two are staring at him, raised eyebrows and in Patton’s case, slightly widened eyes. They’re looking at him like he’s the irrational one. Like he’s the one in the wrong. How dare they?

“… See?” Janus said to Patton slowly, not taking his eyes off of Virgil. He sets the wine glass down. He looks concerned, but hardly surprised. He very subtly adjusts his glove, pulling a beaded bracelet of some sort below the yellow fabric. It was blue.

“Yeah … I see what you mean,” Patton says with a slow nod, also not looking away from Virgil’s angry form.

They have been talking about him. They’ve been discussing him. Janus has been whispering about Virgil into Patton’s ear, making things up. Lying. Telling Patton about the water, about how Janus didn’t believe him. Traitor. That fucking snake.

On top of it, Patton is wearing a matching bracelet. A matching bracelet. They are matching. Virgil takes a slow breath to control himself before he breaks something. Because they are matching.

Virgil feels his blood roaring in his ears, but he can’t properly communicate if he loses it just yet. He bites the inside of his mouth until the dull ache gets sharp enough to pull him out of his spiraling thoughts.

“Shut up.” Virgil says darkly, pointing at Janus. “You’re messing with Thomas. You’re going around me and Roman’s back. You’re sneaking around. You’re a bitch, you don’t know what’s best for him. You can’t hide from me, I know you. I know what you’re doing.”

“Virgil,” the accused says slowly.

“I said shut up!”

Janus coolly raises his hands in surrender, that stupid bracelet still hidden under his glove as if Virgil didn’t already see it. “Happily, Virgil dear. But let’s calm down a moment, hmm? I will shut up, though I recommend you talk with Patton here. I can take my leave, but perhaps you would benefit from talking to a … friend?”

Virgil is just about to break somebody’s nose, and he had a certain person’s in mind.

“Well sure, bud,” Patton nods along kindly. “No pressure, no pressure. I know we’re, uh, we’re going though it right now, so I’d understand if you don’t want to. Just know your pal Patton is here with two big old listening ears, mmkay kiddo? Or uh, Virgil. Just Virgil. Sorry,” he chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I’m fine,” Virgil says in a low, husky, dangerous tone. He is clenching his fists hard, so he shoved them into his pockets.

“And that’s okay too!” Patton chuckles weakly. “No pressure, just like I said. I just wanted to offer.”

“Why?” Virgil presses, eyes locked on him like prey.

Patton realizes he’s on thin ice. He nods placatingly, absently stretching at the beaded bracelet around his wrist. The knife in his back twists furthermore. “Well, uh. You know…”  Patton trails off nervously.

“I mentioned my concerns,” Janus intervenes smoothly, in that same infuriatingly calm and serene tone of voice. As if he’s better than him. Wiser. More rational.

“What the hell are you saying behind my back, Snake?” Virgil turns his fury onto the other side. He comes closer, scowling.

“Nothing of importance, Virgil. All I said was that you seemed troubled, alright?” the snake says soothingly, in that disgustingly patronizing voice that makes Virgil want to wrap his sweaty hands around his throat and stop him from using it at all.

What did he tell Patton? What did he say? What lies did he spin? Did Janus tell him about the water? It makes him feel cold with dread. Did he tell him? Do not dare tell Patton about the cave. Nobody else can know. Cruel. Cruel, don’t be true. Janus is spreading his lies. He can feel his sweaty hands start to tremble.

“... you told him.” Virgil says hollowly, his empty gaze burning holes in Janus’ skin with his eyes. The betrayal aches like nothing else. He didn’t even think he trusted Janus enough to feel betrayed by anything he did. It hurts. It burns. It feels like a blunt steak knife is carving out where his stomach should be.

“Virgil,” Janus sighs, before taking a large drink of his wine, finishing it off. “I didn’t mention anything specific, truly.” he licks a drop of wine off his bottom lip.

“You’re lying,” Virgil growls, but he’s sounding frantic, his pitch rising in a panic.

“No, I am not,” he insists gently, he puts the glass down “Virgil—”

“You’re lying! You always fucking lie,” Virgil clutches at the side of his head as his panic grows and swirls like a cyclone in his chest. He can’t breathe. He can’t see.

“I did not tell him anything you wouldn’t want me to, Virgil. Look at me,” Janus says firmly.

“Shut up!”

“Virgil, kiddo, I have no clue what you guys are talking about,” Patton says gently, looking genuinely confused and concerned by it all. He looks to Janus helplessly, then to Virgil again. “All Janus told me was that you seemed to be struggling, I’m sorry. It’s okay, okay?”

Virgil looks up, feeling his vision trembling. “… Say it again,” he says hoarsely.

“I don’t know what’s going on, Virgil,” Patton says again, his face pinched with empathetic concern. 

“... again.”

“Virgil, kiddo. I don’t know what’s going on. I would like to, if it means helping you, but I don’t know anything. Okay?” Patton says softly, looking at him like he was a frightened, injured animal backed into a corner.

“I– okay. Okay,” he said slowly. He still feels tense, still feels frantic, but he wants to calm down a little bit, at least just a little bit.

Patton nods encouragingly. “That’s good, good. It’s all gonna be okay,” he slowly gets out of his seat.

“Wait! Stay back!” Virgil growls, sharply shifting his weight to the foot closer to them, like a threat of attack. His heart rate spikes again.

“Okay, okay, I’m sitting, it’s okay,” Patton says, sitting back down, though he looks torn. His mouth is pressed into a worried line and he doesn’t take his fretful eyes off Virgil’s shaking form. “It’s gonna be okay, kiddo. Take a second.”

Virgil holds himself, feeling his body tremble and his head spin. Somehow in the midst of the panic and adrenaline, a tiny part of him is relieved. He believes Patton, at least mostly. Janus didn’t say anything, probably good. It’s okay. He just needs to ride out the attack, just calm down a little. He wants a hug. He wants to bite somebody. He wants a hug.

“Can I come over …?” Patton asks softly, seeming to sense some of the conflicting emotions in him.

Virgil hesitates, but slowly nods.

Blink.

He feels the water make impact with his body, like a bucket of water has been thrown at him, sending a cold wave of shock through his too hot system. He gasps for breath as his body recoils from the cold. He frantically wipes his eyes so he can see.

The room is dark. The walls look smeared with dirt and grease. Grungy handprints can be seen dragging up and down along the walls like one trying to claw upwards.

Normally the room is filled with natural and sunlight from the large windows on all sides. In the evenings, a half dozen yellow hued lamps bathe the walls in that nostalgic wash no longer seen often in modern white light LEDs. Now the room was dark and dingy, with exactly one large spotlight coming from an endless, empty night sky peering down at them.

The spotlight descends unkindly in a blazing hot burning stream of light. It is unforgiving.

Patton kneels on the floor, one of his palms flat against the faded brown shag carpet. His figure is hunched over in pain and distress. His other hand holds the wine glass from before, but he’s crushing it in his hand.

The blood drips from his hand, making an array of dark red spots in the carpet below.

Patton is not wearing his glasses. Instead, his eyes are bound by a long strip of thin fabric. The blue fabric is silky like satin, decorated with little black flowers. The blindfold is so long that it draped down his shoulder then ran down his side like a waterfall, pooling at the floor by his knee. It caught the light brilliantly.

Janus staggers out from somewhere, previously cloaked in the grungy dark. He limps from the dark, pausing halfway on his path to Patton. Half stepped into the light, his face was divided down the center. The scaled side was laid bare by the stark light, the other was still enveloped by shadow.

He stares at Virgil blankly, but not without intention.

Virgil notices with no small amount of dread.

Janus tears his eyes away, slowly kneeling beside Patton. He runs his yellow gloves over his sweaty hair, smoothing it back delicately. His skin is pale and dry, too much so. His body looks weak and heavy ladened. There is something wrong with him, and he knows it, something painful and weary is being housed within him.

Patton makes a dry choking sound, coming from the very center of his miserable being. His hands crush the sharpened remains of the wine glass he was still holding. A fresh, particularly deep cut in his hands sends a thin stream of blood to the carpet, making more of a puddle. There is no dripping sound.

Janus pulls off both of his yellow gloves, revealing hands that shy away from the stark light above them like a helicopter beaming an indicator over a fleeing target being closed in on. There is nowhere to go, nowhere to hide from what searches for them, from what chases.

With dry, dry hands, Janus unties the fabric wrapped around Patton’s eyes, letting the blindfold fall away, into the weak puddle on the carpet.

For a moment, Patton’s eyes are open. There are too many eyes within Patton’s eyes.

Janus takes the underside of Patton’s jaw and tilts the other side’s head upward, those eyes being blinded by the inescapable light that is so hellbent on drowning the pair.

With his free hand, Janus reached down Patton’s throat, shoving past teeth and tongue and maw to get his fingers down up to his elbow. Patton retches and convulses, but Janus remains steadfast. Gentle, but steadfast.

Janus pulls his arm free, fist closed around something small. He drops the object without care.

It is a photo. A crumpled, wet photo of a toy car. The type toddlers can get into and push with their feet. The classic red and yellow one.

Patton breathes deeply, as if he had been unable to do so properly before, but Janus is not yet finished. He takes Patton’s jaw in hand again, then takes his gloves off. He wads them up in his fist before shoving it down Patton’s throat, slowly at first, but Patton starts swallowing, chewing them. Janus does little else save hold Patton’s head up as the gloves are digested.

Blink.

                                                                         Virgil!

                                                         Virgil!

                                         Virgil.

                         Virgil.

Them.            Virgil.                           you.

                         Virgil.

                                         Virgil!

                                                         Virgil!

                           ��                                             “Virgil!”

Virgil is screaming.

The room is warm and clean and yellow again. Sunlight warms his skin. The carpet is clean and free of blood or any other noticeable bodily fluids. The charming knick knacks and well loved furniture are back to where they belong. All is back to how it should be. He is screaming.

The screaming is hurting his throat.

The sound hurts his ears. Hurts his body. His vocal cords feel as if they are popping and snapping like too taut rubber bands, or chopping like the way a helicopter’s blades sound after getting fast enough.

He is still screaming.

“Virgil! Come on, look at me!” Janus is raising his voice. He is far, far too close to Virgil. He’s kneeling next to him, they are both apparently on the floor of Patton’s room. Virgil is screaming still.

Patton is a mere two feet behind Janus. He has the correct number of eyes within his eyes. The regular amount of eyes express worry, concern, affection. There is clear distress and worry lining his face. It should be comforting, but it is not. It may not be real. Nothing can be real.

There are lies in the walls.

Virgil keeps screaming.

“Virgil, please!” Janus begs. It is a horrible sound. Something is wrong with Janus. Something evil and cold. The water wants him to know, wants him to understand. The weight of such a calling is like being chained by the neck to an ocean.

Virgil can’t tell if he’s screaming anymore. Does it matter? Reality keeps moving, life goes on, no matter how tangible life may be.

“That’s it, just relax,” Janus says, seeming to think he’s the one helping. He does not help. He causes this. It is his fault. It must be.

Virgil stumbles to his feet, alarming the other two. Janus makes a disapproving sound and reaches out to hold down Virgil’s shoulder.

He doesn’t think twice before he shoves Janus hard with his shoulder, knocking him onto his side. Janus yelps in surprise as he tumbles backwards. It’s a good sound. The impact of Virgil’s shoulder against his body is real and solid. It reminds him that no matter how sick and deceptive Janus may be, he’s too real to be invincible. Too real to escape truth in the end.

He leaves.

Nowhere is safe.

And yet the water flows unceasingly.

Ch 5. Ch 7.

[zacksfairest]

Vaela 🦋 🎁🎈 🧨, Lehala 🧿 🦝 🎀 🍇, Ayala 🐁 🦴 🍷 🐹

♡~OC Asks~♡

Vaela

🦋What is their favorite season?

Fall, for sure. The trees are such pretty colors, there is a crisp bite to the air. And everything is reds and browns! Perfect color combination for her

🎁What is something they keep like: a souvenir, a keepsake, or a family heirloom; that means a lot to them? Why is it so important to them?

Hmmm. I think that once all is said and done and she's off doing Her Thing and makes it clear to her family that this is her life now, her dad would gift her with an old quiver of his. It's actually his dad's quiver, and it's fairly simple, but it harkens back to the days of when they were true Wood Elves—likely from back Aeranth at some point in their lineage. He would have given her the bow that goes with it, but the bows she uses are so much better and his girl deserves the best. But at least she can have a piece of them on her little adventures with her, holding the ammo that keeps her safe. And of course this means a lot to her. It's nothing fancy, which goes contrary to her need for pretty things, but the thought there is overwhelming. It's a blessing to go out into the world and live the life she's made for herself, while also a prayer to keep her safe in a way that her family still feels they have failed to do (which of course they are wrong).

🎈If they could travel anywhere, where would they go?

Well, she pretty much does go everywhere now, doesn't she? What with the work she does for Aeranth. But I suppose she wishes she could spend more time on the shores and ocean. She is so familiar with the woods and forests now, but not so much the sea. She'd love to get a taste of it.

🧨If they could screw anyone without any consequences, who would they choose?

Delethil hate fuck let's go. I kid, I kid. (Or do I?) But I honestly don't really know. She remains skittish in my head until further development can be had for her. And she never really met anyone on their travels that she felt that kind of desire for. Not even Cobalt.

Lehala

🧿Do they have a superstition or belief? Such as "black cats bring bad luck", belief in ghosts, tarot, crystals, meditation, etc.

No one can touch her weapons. Only those she trusts most can handle them, and even then it makes her twitchy. This is definitely stemming from a fear of outsiders to her clan, on top of the idea that it leaves too much of an opportunity for sabotoge—even unintentional damage! But she fully believes that she will die or get seriously hurt if someone else handles her weapons. It'd need to go through rigorous tests first before she used them in battle after that. And even then she'd still be leery.

🦝What do they smell like?

Filed under: things I never consider when creating characters. But I imagine she smells kind of earthy. Fresh cut grass. Likely stemming from the grass and dirt stains on her armor after sparring.

🎀Do they have something they collect? {Stamps, rocks, stickers, etc}

Back home she definitely collects little trinkets from successful skirmishes. An arrowhead. A dagger. A broken blade. Things that remind her that she survived and is still here. She's a much more simple lady than Vaela. Pretty things don't tempt her.

🍇What is their sexuality? And what is their "type"?

She's always felt more fluid to me. Pan or bi. Definitely demi-sexual, though. She does not trust anyone to be intimate with her that she does not trust implicitly. She is a warrior and is keenly aware of how vulnerable sex makes a person. There is no desire where there isn't absolute trust for her.

🐁Do they find a creature cute, that normal people don't? Such as spiders, rats, snakes, sharks, etc?

She is a Star Wars lady, and a Mandalorian besides. There have undoubtedly been strange creatures she's come across that most would have found repulsive that she cooed over. Thinking of strills at the moment. It is absolutely not uncommon for Mandos to look at a disgusting creature and go "Oh! A baby!"

🦴Have they ever broken a bone or had any sort of major injuries before? If so, what was their ailment?

OH, MANY. MANY AILMENTS AND INJURIES. Her lekku are scarred to hell, which means those injuries were painful and near debilitating. Lekku are extremely sensitive and major damage to them can even mean death. But not my girl. She's built different. Her lekku have definitely endured a good bit of injury, but she's always managed to recover. She's been in countless battles and skirmishes and sparring sessions. She's cracked rips, broken wrists, and been stabbed and slashed. Ayala has so many scars from the life she's lived as a Mandalorian, but none in particular really stand out. The physical injuries are easy, if you ask her. It's the injuries she bears in her soul that really weigh her down the most.

🍷What is their drink of choice? Both alcoholic and non-alcoholic?

Ugh. Star Wars drinks. Anything with a kick. She isn't picky. Sometimes you need a stiff drink to knock you on your ass after a particularly rough day in the field or on the hunt. When she needs to stay sharp, however, she drinks the strongest caf she can get her hands on. The squad yells at her that she needs to drink more water. But what good is that gonna do? Caf has water in it. And now she's awake for another 12 hours. What's water gonna do other than make her need to pee? Vys'kydir absolutely has put her in a chokehold until she agrees to drain her canteen.

🐹What "pet" names do they like being used for them? {Babe, Kitten, Puppy, Mutt, etc.}

You know what's coming: cyar'ika. ner cyare. alor (but sexy. you know.). (any chiss pet names there might be lmao)

[koneko-pi]

Silver Season

Chapter Two: Dungeon Chills

Nozel brings Briar along to investigate the attacked village

The Silver Eagles training room was more like a massive arena than anything else. It was about the same size and shape of the Magic Knights exam field, but with a more Coliseum feel to it. With its high balconies for onlookers to watch, made of more white stone, open ceiling and a large sandy floor where Briar and Solid currently stood across from one another.

"Is Solid really doing this?" Nebra let out a sigh. She was seated in a comfortable plush chair in one of the nicer overlooking balconies. Others from the squad and a few visitors from noble houses had also all gathered around the stands to see what was going on. "She's got no Grimoire, how could she possibly cast any spells to defend herself against a Noble."

Nozel had no response to his younger sister's comment. While he also agreed the woman not having a book made this sparring match feel very one sided… he was certain he sensed mana within her. She wasn't the same as Asta, who had nothing at all, magic still coursed through her body. So did she simply choose to not carry her book around? Had she spent so much time at her little workbench that she thought she didn't need it?

"A fool…" he muttered to himself. Trying to distract himself from the fact that she had so quickly filled his mind with questions. He would let Solid have his fun with her, teach her a lesson, and then request a new Researcher from Julius under the pretense that this one was heavily unqualified.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Solid grinned as he brandished a hand in her direction. His grimoire fluttered around behind him. "Challenging a member of House Silva could cost you your job, you know."

Briar wasn't even looking at him, which had really irritated Solid. She was pulling her dagger off her back and was clipping its scabbard into place. She gave it a few testing swings to make sure the blades sheath wouldn't come off on accident.

"Did you hear me PEASANT?" he shouted at her, flaring his mana in an attempt to intimidate her but she swung her arm down and it was like the mana suddenly dispersed around her.

"What was that…" Nozel squinted, knowing full well he would have been the only one there to even catch that detail.

"Are you dumber than you look?" Briar shot back at him after she waved away some dust in her face.

"What did you say…" Solid hissed angrily, water was already beginning to build up around him.

"Look, I'm not good at banter." His new enemy sighed. "I know you want to toy with me like some sadistic cat would with a mouse, so can you get it over with."

"Surely she's stupid." Nebra couldn't contain her laugh. She was well aware of Solids nature and she still egged him on like that? Poor girl wasn't going to stand a chance.

"You pompous, rat." Solid hissed and threw a hand out. "You'll regret challenging me!"

From the ground around his feet burst forth a snake, made entirely of water, and shot out towards the woman. As it moved to her she also lunged forward-

Nozels eyes slowly widened.

The woman moved quickly, slipping under and around the spell to get up into Solid's space, the man's eyes wide with shock at her sudden appearance. "What-" before he could finish his sentence she raised her arm, her wide eyes locked onto his, before she cracked her scabbard across Solid's chin.

The water spell behind Briar immediately disintegrated as Solid stumbled back.

"What just happened?" Nebra was now standing, hands on the railing as she leaned forward to get a better look. "Solid! What are you doing!?"

"Its over." Nozel huffed as he turned and walked away.

"What?" Nebra watched her brother with wide eyes before turning back to look and…

Solid's grimoire shut then hit the ground. His eyes became hazy before rolling back into his head and he hit the ground knees first.

Briar grabbed his shoulder to stop him from toppling forward. "He should be fine." She muttered to herself. "Just rattled his brain a little."

Others quickly came out to grab hold of him, check on him and make sure he wasn't in need of healing.

Walking back to one of the entrances of the arena Briar walked right up to Nozel, who was waiting for her in the archway.

"Have I proven I'm not easy to get rid of yet?" She said with a tilt of her head. "I can assure you I am not defenseless."

She had good instincts… so good even…

"How did you dodge his spell?" Nozel already suspected the answer, but he wanted to hear it himself.

"Anyone can dodge a spell with enough practice."

"Not like that." He narrowed his eyes. "You saw something."

Briar stared at him, the look in her eyes made him think she was debating on whether or not to tell him at all.

"Mana has a flow." She finally responded. "In everything, not just spells. The ground, the walls that surround you, plants and such. If you learn to see it and read it you can be surprised at what you can do."

He had been correct. This woman was acutely in tune with Mana, and could probably sense it to an insane degree. She had slashed through the mana in the air to dispel it. No… It wasn't like that Black Bull, she had just asserted her own mana in the cut to redirect Solid's to go around her. And she had seen the coil of the serpent- following its flow in reverse like riding a wave to get up close to Solid without injury.

With a skill like that, and so finely tuned, why was she not using her grimoire. Everything about this woman had Nozel's instinct screaming to be weary, and he was supposed to be working with her for this mission?

"Why don't you have your book?" He asked more firmly, stepping in her way when she assumed the conversation was done and she tried to move on.

"I don't have a grimoire." Her expression changed into an irritated glare.

"You have Mana, but you don't have A grimoire? Impossible." He glared right back at her.

The two stared at each other, a spark between them had many others looking over wonder if Nozel would take the tense moment as an opportunity to avenge his brother's pride.

"You and I are still strangers." Briar finally broke the line between them. "I have no obligation to share anything personal with you, we're just working together under the Wizard King's orders. So may I please pass to prepare for our little excursion?"

Nozel did not like ending this conversation like that. He didn't like the idea of such a mysterious entity lurking under the Silver Eagle's roof with some free reign… but she was right, despite how foul he felt admitting it to himself, he could not force her to talk about herself. All he could do was try and replace her.

So he stepped to the side. She stared him down one last time before walking past and disappearing down the hall.

"Is everything alright?" Nebra asked as she hurried up to Nozel, having already checked on Solid.

"Fine. How is Solid?"

"Just unconscious." She clicked her tongue. "She hit him just right so that he fell unconscious. She must be a brute to hit him that hard." A look of disgust grew across her face. "Honestly, to fight like that… What is she, a barbarian?"

"Be weary of her."

"Eh?" Nebra looked up at her brother to see he was still staring down the hall.

"I don't trust her." Was all he said to finish his sentence before he too was walking away. "And make sure Solid gets extra training. I don't want another incident like that again."

Nozel won't have this stranger embarrass house Silva again.

"Based on the Report the Green Mantis' had written after dealing with the issue, the Ants had shown up suddenly in the middle of the day. A man had been minding his own business in a field, tilling and doing work, when his foot got caught in some kind of hole. Little did he know the hole was a gaping mouth. His scream alerted the rest of the villagers but it was already to late, a hoard of the beasts had burst forth from the ground and-"

"That's enough." Nozel sighed loudly enough to interrupt Briar and her retelling of the events. Like anyone had to guess what happened given the state of things.

The following day the Eagles had set out, some wishing Briar's arrival was just a horrible dream but alas, she was here to stay.

Solid particularly had pitched the biggest fit when Nozel had demanded he stay put after his embarrassing defeat.

"It was a fluke! You know I'm better than that, why do I have to stay behind!?"

"To improve on your reflexes." Nozel glared down at his little brother, who shrank under his gaze. "Now get GOING."

The boys dejected and defeated expression was one to be remembered, given his awful reputation.

It was not hard to pick out which village they were supposed to be investigating. The whole village looked like it had been invaded; buildings broken with things strewn about, windows shattered, gardens upturned, the field that normally grew their food was also in tatters, torn apart with not a speck of food left in sight. Spatterings of red and green across the ground… the only signs of life were the occasional scavenger birds flying in to peck at what they hoped was a meal.

"What happened to the villagers?" A brown haired knight approached Briar who currently held all the documents in her hand. The woman flipped through her papers, a solemn look on her face. "Survivors were rushed to the next village for treatment. As for the others…" She turned her head to a massive ditch in the middle of what had once been a cabbage field.

The eagle grimaced at the thought.

"I don't see any ant bodies." Nebra hummed as she walked around. She kicked a child's toy out of her way and into a desolate home.

"Aside from the ones the Mantis squad took in, It's possible they too were eaten."

"What?" The Silva looked at Briar in disgust.

"They came out for food." Her cream colored eyes looked around at everything. "The people ran off, the field was eaten. What was left other than the bodies of their own?"

"Disgusting savages..."

"Their animals, Nebra, what more could you expect." Briar turned away from the noble, finding her comments to be not only unnecessary, but headache inducing. She instead entered a nearby house.

It was dark and abandoned, food scattered across the ground where the table had been knocked over in some attempt to shield the occupants from intruders. The woman stared at a dried up, red, stain on the ground before she bent down to pick up a picture frame that had been broken on the ground.

Dusting it off, she tugged the photo out of its broken frame. The image was a small painting, something that was expensive for people living all the way out here, of a family of four. Mother, father and two sons all posed in a picnic-like setting, likely here in this very village. Her eyes glanced once more to the stained floor before she folded the picture up and tucked it away. It took a lot of focus to try and not think about which of them that could have been. Looking around the house, with its tiny rooms and little furniture she felt confused.

Briar was not afraid to fling open dressers, check under beds or up into dark spaces. She wasn't someone to be easily spooked by quick dim corners. What did make the hairs rise on the back of her neck though was the unmissable feeling of being watched. Yet she found nothing but broken items and overturned furniture.

"Suspicious…" was all she said as she turned to leave the home and move onto the next.

All the other houses were the same. Evidence of struggles, evidence of tragedy, and not a single person or ant to be found. Even with all the eagles exploring and digging through homes and rubble they found nothing, and without anything to go off of it wouldn't be very easy to find the nest. If they had one…

Coming out of the last house Brair noticed drag marks. As she looked up and around the village she saw several more, they came from different homes and locations but all of them converged onto one path and that led to…

A barn.

In a situation like this the villagers would have likely abandoned their cattle and animals for their own lives, but there wasn't an animal to be found. Not outside, and certainly not inside. In fact she couldn't see anything inside the barn at all; it was a wide opening with double doors swung open, which would have allowed plenty of sunlight to stream inside to see the ground, support beams, corral or hell, even the wall in the back.

But inches past the doorway was nothing but ominous darkness. Not a single bit of light seemed to penetrate it so all that swam before her was an inky blackness, and it made the hairs on Briar's neck stand on end. She looked worried as she reached for it slowly…

"Woman."

Briar jolted when someone suddenly called for her. She slowly turned around and her unease was replaced with irritation at the sight of that stupid braid. "I have a name." she responded shortly back to him.

"I'm aware." Nozel responded curtly. "What are you doing." The look on his face told her he thought she must be doing something foolish.

"I sense odd magic here." She gestured to the barn and took a step back when Nozel moved closer to investigate himself. He looked around-

"What are you talking about?"

Her eyebrows furrowed. "Do you not see it?" Now she seemed concerned as she once again stared into what felt like a black abyss.

The man let out a breath of air before peering down his nose at the woman. "I understand you don't like being here as much as I don't like working with a peasant, it's nothing but a headache for all of us." Briar's eyebrow twitched. If the man didn't always act like a stick was up his butt all the time maybe she wouldn't butt heads with him. "But do not waste my time." He punctuated the last words with an angry hiss before turning around with a flourish of his cloak, it nearly hit her across the face and she had to lean back with wide eyes.

"We're investigating the pit. Come." He didn't bother waiting for her as he went on his way.

Briar slowly held up a shaking fist as a vein throbbed in her cheek. "If that's how it's going to be…"

All the eagles were standing in the field. No bit of greenery was left and dead center to it was a massive pit. The inside was concave, giving it an inverted cone-like appearance, and was less like soft dirt and more like sand. The diameter of it was almost ten feet by the look of it, and it looked almost as deep. One eagle took a tentative step forward to try and peer inside, but quickly back pedaled when the fragile dirt along the edge slid down into the center.

"Imbecile." Nebra clicked her tongue.

"What did you find." Nozel asked as he approached with his unfortunate partner behind him.

"This pit isn't the only one, sir." Nils informed his Captain of their findings. "Besides this one we have found six others. While they vary in size they all appear to serve the same purpose."

"And what do you think that is?" Briar asked curiously.

The silver eagle glanced at Nozel, as if asking for permission to tell her, which just further irritated her. The captain gave a nod, also wanting to hear and Nils cleared his throat. "We think this was how they got in. They must have some kind of earth affinity. All the pits have the same sand-like texture and the ground crumbles easily when touched."

"As Simon wonderfully demonstrated." Nebra giggled behind her hand while the mage in question shot her a dirty look.

"Why don't you show him yourself, Nebra." Simon gave a strained grin. "I'm sure your brother would appreciate your initiative."

"Are you implying I'm not pulling my weight?" The woman growled back.

As the two began bickering to one another Nozel turned to the mage next to him. "Curtis."

The man jolted at suddenly being addressed. "S-sir." But was at the ready for whatever his Captain needed.

The Silva held a hand up. "Give me something to throw."

Curtis was confused but didn't hesitate. With magic he created a small sphere made of stone and offered it to him.

Nozel weighed it for a moment before he tossed it down into the pit. Sand fell down with the stone before it rolled to a stop in the middle-

And a set of pincers snapped onto it and drug it down.

"Oh…" the eagles watching looked concerned.

"It's a trap." Nozel confirmed.

"It's not just a trap…" Briar was looking up and over the field, barely seeing a couple of the others that the squad had mentioned. "It's a nest."

"What!?" Nils whipped his head to the woman, but before anyone could question her further the sound of Liquid metal drew their attention. Silver hung in the air above the pit, melting and taking shape into three long spears. Nozel's face gave the briefest of twitches before there was a flash and all three weapons plunged down into the center of the pit.

The air was filled with a loud and drawn out squeal. One spear dug in a little deeper and the sound was cut off.

Raising his hand, Nozel pulled the now dead insect from within its nest. It was pierced with all three spears and dripping a foul smelling green fluid. Looking almost exactly the same as the one Jack had brought Nozel began to get increasingly concerned.

"Woman." He turned and the spears brought the dead insect closer so it could hover in front of Briar.

Her expression twisted in disgust as she leaned away from the foul stench the body gave off. She didn't need to ask to know what he expected of her. With a sigh she took a breath of fresh air, rolled up her sleeves and started grabbing at and moving around parts. Sometimes even removing a spear to plunge a hand into its carapace.

Nebra gagged and turned away, she was too close to throwing up all her breakfast. "Oh my GOD." She heaved. "You're disgusting, I can't believe you're doing that!"

"It's not that bad." Brair huffed. She pulled a hand out, covered in green fluid- "it just smells foul. But it feels like ground meat." -and she slowly reached that hand towards the noble woman. Nebra let out a sound like a strangled cat before she quickly scrambled away. Brair looked smug.

"Stop being childish." Nozel glared at the pair of them.

"You really do have a stick up your butt, huh." Briar jabbed at him with her words and his glare intensified.

"What did you-"

"ANYWAY-" She quickly cut him off before anything could start, which just further irritated him. It showed through the way his spears were vibrating.

Briar flicked the fluid and gunk from her hands till she was satisfied. "This is just a younger stage. I wouldn't call it a larva, but it's not an adult either."

"So these animals came in from somewhere else, and set up a nest?" Nils asked, he had his cloak over his mouth to try and stifle the stench.

"It's possible." The woman took his cloak and wiped her hands completely clean.

"Hey-!"

"But we haven't seen any record of these beasts before."

"Any wild lands are too far." Nozel, finally done with it, tossed the animal back into its pit, where it slowly sank out of sight. "Several miles in any direction is farm land and villages. We are not close enough to the Neutral Zones border for them to have come from there."

He was right. That thought had Briar scratching at her chin as she tried to deduce what was going on. The Neutral Zone was one of the more favored places for her people to study. It was named "Neutral Zone" because no kingdom would dare to expand their lands into it, even a place like Heart Kingdom who was bountiful in magic and manpower didn't dare try their hands at the dense forested areas. This was because the Neutral zone was wrought with grand magic zones, and the flora and fauna in those areas have been twisted and evolved to survive it, leading to things like man eating plants or dragon esque reptiles. It was a highly dangerous place to live in, only the witches had really found a way to live in harmony within their area, and even then it was more tame compared to some places.

Knowing that, it wasn't hard to believe an animal like a giant man eating Ant could have come from the Neutral Zone. However Nozel had a point. The ants would have had to travel an intense distance, either above or underground and neither of those options seemed feasible.

"They had to be local then…" she concluded.

"What?" Curtis' face scrunched up in disbelief.

"They had to have been here, in the town it's the only thing that makes sense."

"What, has this village been living above an ant hill and no one knew?" It was obvious they didn't want to consider her idea. Whether it was because it sounded dumb or because it came from an outsider didn't matter to her.

"Are you sure you know what you're doing?" The man continued to berate Briar. "Our whole mission here could be jeopardized by-"

"Be silent." Nozel's voice suddenly cut through the start of their bickering. He was staring off at the village, but the placement of his feet had shifted into a battle ready stance.

"Sir…?" Nils asked nervously. The eagles turned to their captain and then to where he had been looking: into the village. Desolate and empty still.

A few of them didn't understand what had their captain so on edge, but got down into battle ready positions. A few grimoires flared to life as mana surrounded them.

"It's quiet." Briar concluded.

The sounds of birds and wildlife still lingering around them had completely stopped. The only sounds around them was the occasional rustle of trees from the breeze.

Briar felt a twinge in her back and slowly her hand moved back to grab hold of the hilt of her knife. The air was so still and silent you could hear the snap of her undoing its safety clasp.

One of the nearby houses burst into debris and dirt. An intense buzzing sound, like the air was vibrating, surrounded them before the cloud of dirt was extinguished as something came flying at them.

"Look out-!" Nozel turned to cry out but whatever this thing was, was too fast.

Nebra screamed as she was snatched up, dragged up into the sky and back into the village; all in a blur of purple and white. All that remained of her was the feathers used to decorate her cloak.

"Nebra!!"

The buzzing still filled the air.

"Stay together!" Briar shouted as more buildings burst around them, brown blurs zipping through the air. When one suddenly changed trajectory to the group, Briar took a step forward and planted her heel down in the dirt. Her eyes were wide like saucers but full of concentration as she yanked her blade from its sheath and flipped it around so she held it backwards; she brought it up and then down, bracing the hilt of it with her other hand as the blur screamed right past her head, nearly taking it off.

Green fluid spattered across the floor as the beast was cut straight down the middle by her dagger.

Curtis watched it hit the ground and tumble several feet away where it writhed on the ground before dying. Even with its belly cut open they could tell what it was.

Its body was longer and slimmer, built for aerial combat, with long wings and a large stinger on the end of its body. Its eyes were massive and it had pincers the size of dinner knives on its face.

It was the adult form of all the ants they'd been finding.

"Get in a circle!" Nozel shouted and all the eagles immediately moved. Their backs facing one another as they were surrounded in a flurry of buzzing and hissing.

Many of them fired off spells into the hoard that circled them but no one could manage to hit one. They all moved too fast. Nils was almost grabed by another but Nozel had acted a little faster, he noticed and created a shield just in time to deflect the angry insect up into the air. The bug stuttered in the air, like it was dazed, before joining its brethren once again.

"We can't do this!" Curtis shouted as he created a shield before another could grab him. While he went unharmed his earthen barrier shattered on impact. "Their stronger than they look!"

"Protect the group!" Nozel commanded as he threw his hands around. Around them spears and cages would appear and disappear but like others they moved too fast for him to do any real damage, let alone catch one. "Woman!" He turned his head to the Magical scholar behind him, her oddly shaped blade was gripped tightly in her hand and she was in a slight crouch but she didn't respond. "Woman- tch!" His face twisted as he felt an insect narrowly miss his midsection, his robe got torn to shreds and his abdomen was now visible through his clothing but he wasn't hurt.

'What is that idiot doing!?'

She had been the only one to hit one, was she now frozen in fear or something!? This is why desk workers should stay inside-

"Six o'clock!"

Nozel reacted immediately. His hand whipped out where a silver netting sprung to life in front of one of his men. The eagle screamed as the insect was caught, its pincers barely closing in on his chin.

"Kill it you idiot!"

"Sir!!"

His grimoire fluttered and then ice spears slipped through the openings of the cage and impaled the beast, leaving it to squirm and squeal.

Nozel's head whipped to Briar, the woman was still standing there but he could see her face was flushing with how focused she was. Her eyes were wide and seemed to be staring into space but-

"8 o'clock!!"

Another eagle created a net of silk and caught the beast, swinging it and slamming it down where curtis crushed it with a boulder.

-she was tracking them with her Mana sensing.

"Everyone focus!" Nozel shouted as his mercury melted around him, malleable and ready for use. "Listen and be ready!"

"Sir!!"

"3 o'clock!"

"9 o'clock!"

"12 o'clock!"

The pattern continued like this. The eagles would listen to Briar's shouting and whichever knight was standing in position would ready themselves with a spell. By the end of it they were surrounded by dead flying ants, with the worst injury being a long cut along Curtis midsection.

"I got you!" A younger member rushed to him, a foam building up around him to cover up the wound.

"Aah that feels good.." the man groaned as the pain began to melt away with magic.

Nozel quickly paced around them, taking in the situation and wounded. No one had been taken besides Nebra it seemed. While his demeanor remained composed, inside he was frantically itching to chase after the disgusting creature that dared to lay its hands on a Silva.

"Woman!" Nozel whipped around to face Briar. "You need to track…it…"

His voice slowly trailed away as he walked up to her.

The woman had sat down on a nearby fallen log. She looked tired and had her hand to her face, two fingers were pinching her nose closed as blood dripped down her hand and wrist.

She looked up at him, irritation mixed amongst the exhaustion.

"What." She said bluntly.

He resisted the urge to squint at her. Like he could ever be considered for a peasant, someone beneath him. "Can you function?"

She took a deep inhale before she closed her eyes. He watched, with disgust, as she blew one side of her nose out so blood hit the grass. "I can still do my job. It's been a while since I had to track something that fast before." And so many at that. She thought her eyes were going to burst with how many entities she picked up on all at once. Her power really wasn't what it used to be.

"Then we're going!" Nozel said it more to his squad than to Briar. They all gathered with a unanimous "yes sir!"

He gave the scholar another moment to collect herself. And knowing what an impatient man Nozel Silva was, Briar stood up and began the walk in the direction she knew the flying ant had taken his sister. Her heart clenched for a moment.

"This again?" Nozel narrowed his eyes at Briar. They stood once again in front of the dark, open barn doors.

"Would you wait, you impatient chicken." She snapped at him.

"W-what-!?" His face flushed, with either rage or embarrassment Briar didn't know. But the reaction from him and his squad mates, who had all gasped and taken a step back, was amusing nonetheless. "You dare to insult-"

"Stop talking!" She snapped a hand in front of his face, which just added fuel to the fire that was his fury. "Let me do my job and it will make sense, YEAH?" Her headache had made her patience run very thin, and she was not in the mood to deal with his arrogance.

The air was tense with mana, the two glaring at one another so intensely it was like electricity was flying between them.

The eagle was stupidly prideful. He didn't say anything or even turn his head away, but the brunette took the clenching of his jaw as his way of conceding to her.

"Good." She said as she put her hand down. Everyone watched as she bent down and picked up a large stone. She turned it over a few times before writing some kind of rune on it. Nozel took note of its shape, finding it much more angular when compared to their own wispy looking magic runes.

The rune glowed and then she tossed the stone into the black space.

Eyes widened as the blackness ripped like water and then retreated inwards, revealing a path into what looked like a deep and damp cave.

"What is that…" Curtis looked nervous, his eyes wide with a trickle of sweat falling down his cheek.

"It looks like a dungeon." Nils swallowed a lump in his throat.

A dungeon, way out here? And it didn't even look like a normal one, there was no grand entrance or structure. The building didn't even give off a mana signature they could sense-! But now that this woman had supposedly opened the door…

Dark mana was creeping out around them from within. It felt like a dungeon now…

"How did you know…" Nozel asked slowly.

"I tried to show it to you early." Briar didn't look at him. "You wouldn't listen."

Nozel felt his teeth grind together as he sucked in a breath to calm down. He refused to be embarrassed, how was he supposed to know, the building had looked completely normal to him at the time. But looking at it now… he saw the spatial displacement inside the barn.

A more urgent question in his mind was how was she able to see it but no one else, how did she know how to open it up?

"Nebra is inside?" He asked.

"She is." Briar was certain of it. Though she couldn't guarantee in what state.

Nozel's fists clenched. This wasn't a normal dungeon, its appearance and feel were too different from the ones they were used to seeing. He also had never heard of a dungeon housing such dangerous creatures, let alone that they could willingly leave whenever they wanted. Knowing all that… under normal circumstances, the appropriate thing to do would be to leave a few mages here, report to Julius what they had found and return with more manpower to raid it.

The threat level was that high, based on what he had seen.

But his sister….

"Are you coming?"

Nozel was snapped out of his thoughts; his squad was patiently waiting for him and Briar was standing before the entrance, watching him with arms crossed.

"You're seriously not thinking about leaving her behind right?"

It irritated him how well the woman had read his mind… but he also felt a sense of relief that he had the support.

"Of course not." His chest puffed again as all hesitation melted away from him. "Were going in, you saw what could be lurking inside. We're going in, watch your backs and do not go off alone."

"Yes sir!" His squad shouted to him, full of confidence and determination to follow him.

Nozel approached Briar and she sidestepped, making an 'after you' gesture.

"Do you know what's inside?" He whispered to her. Finding her more suspicious by the minute.

"Not from out here." She replied honestly. "Could be anything, really."

The look on her face was a mix of emotions, Nozel couldn't exactly place it. He'd have to question her later though, the longer they took the longer Nebra was by herself in there.

"Let's go." And with a flurry of his cloak he walked in, his body vanishing into the dark dungeon entrance.

His squad followed in after him, Briar went last, bringing up the rear.

But not before she gave the dungeon one last look.

The dungeon gave her chills…

[ahungeringknife]

Never Been 1

365: April 5-11

Never Been

There were always a lot of dogs in Masyaf. If you’d call a dæmon that looked like a dog a dog at least. That didn’t stop most Assassins from having dog dæmons and Malik was no exception. Nishtar was a cream and white canaan dog and wasn’t even the only one. Canaan dogs were popular choices for Assassins along with their sleek saluki cousins. Ones who didn’t have dogs had other useful dæmons; birds or cats or even rats. Rauf had a mongoose and that made everyone just uneasy around him, especially the handful of men who had snakes as dæmons. But most of them had dogs because, and everyone knew this, they were dogs; loyal, obedient, and if need be, vicious.

Today was one of the last inspections Malik would have as a journeyman. He’d made his first kill years ago and would get to become a proper Assassin soon. Nishtar had settled but that wasn’t enough to be considered an ‘adult’ in Masyaf. You had to finish your training and Malik was so close. Hopefully today would be the last time he had to line up for inspection with the rest of his age mates. No one liked inspection. It was simply the worst part of the training.

The hall monitor came by and you stood outside your door with your dæmon by your side, or in easy view, and they made sure you were dressed properly and then reached out and touched your dæmon. If you flinched you were sent to contact training, if you didn’t you were left to your own devices until whatever normal training or lessons you had. Malik hated it. It always made him want to throw up and had since he was a boy. He wasn’t the only one. He had vivid memories all through his life of the other boys in his hall yelling or puking when their dæmons were touched by their hall monitor. One time a knife had been drawn. No attack had followed up on it but the fight trigger had been so strong. Malik had never puked thankfully but he’d been trained out of reacting when people touched his dæmon.

He stood with his roommate outside their room. Zain’s dæmon Basket (what a fucking stupid name for a dæmon) was also a dog but his looked more like a pharaoh hound mixed with some stringy pariah dog you’d see out in the wastes between civilization and it always trembled during inspection. Malik felt Nishtar look around his legs at Basket and he lightly tapped her side with his leg: don’t look at Basket.

‘He’s going to get himself in trouble,’ Nishtar said into his mind.

‘Not our problem,’ he thought back.

‘He’s so annoying when he fails inspection,’ she complained. ‘He’s going to fail this time I just know it. And then he’s going to climb onto the bed and cry.’

‘Not our problem,’ Malik thought as the hall monitor was drawing closer. Their own dæmon was a canaan dog too but was darker brown with a cream collar and saddle. Bistil stalked up and down the journeymen and novices being inspected today and like Nishtar he noticed how jittery Basket was today. Unlike Nishtar he didn’t care and just glared daggers at the shivering dæmon but moved on ahead of his person.

The hall monitor looked Malik over briefly and noted on his board that his uniform was satisfactory. Then he leaned down and gave Nishtar a rough but agreeable pet on the top of her head. She closed her eyes at the rough attention but didn’t flinch away. Malik didn’t flinch either and just stood there but his stomach was in an absolute knot. He was going to throw up if this went on much longer and he hadn’t had breakfast yet so it would just be bile and stomach acid. Worse was Nishtar was sympathetic to stuff like that so if Malik threw up his dæmon would too and everyone had the same vitriolic reaction listening to a dog throwing up.

It only lasted about five seconds but that was enough. Malik blinked when the hand was removed from Nishtar’s head but he didn’t breathe out yet. That was still a flinch. The hall monitor inspected Zain and Basket next.

Malik lurched away when the hall monitor went to pet Basket and as soon as he touched Basket’s head the dæmon lashed out to bite the hand. Before he could even do so, it happened so fast, Bistil was on top of him, jaws around Basket’s throat and Basket on the ground.

Every dæmon in the hall started barking like crazy and in the confined space it was so loud Malik was momentarily stunned.

The hall monitor pulled Bistil off of Basket who lay on the ground breathing hard, tongue lolling out of his mouth. He bled but not so much he’d bleed out and Malik reached out and put his hand on Nishtar’s head. She’d moved to stand between his legs protectively, barking furiously at Bistil, or maybe Basket. ‘I told you he’d fail! And he’s going to be so annoying,’ she said into his mind.

Bistil started barking back at the other dæmons and quickly everyone quieted. Everyone knew who was in charge and it was Bistil. Malik kept his hand on Nishtar anyway.

The hall monitor didn’t look too ruffled by the whole thing. Zain was knelt by his dæmon who was still just laying on the ground panting hard, eyes wide and wild. “Once you’ve cleaned up this mess make sure you go down to contact conditioning,” he told Zain.

“Yes, sir,” Zain said, not looking at him.

“Everyone back into positions,” the hall monitor snapped. “Your inspection is not over.” But Malik noted he wasn’t the only one who’d moved to have their dæmon stand or sit between their legs. Down the hall from the way the hall monitor had come Malik did see to some amusement Paul trying and failing to pull his completely puffed up cat dæmon off him.

‘Basket and Zain better get their act together,’ Nishtar said.

‘They’ll be fine,’ Malik said back but didn’t pet her despite wanting to. The hall monitor continued the rest of the inspection without incident and Malik was grateful when they were all released. He wanted to go get breakfast and properly settle his stomach after Nishtar had been touched.

[depressedtransguy]

thank you sm!!!

open tags!!

1. how many works do you have on ao3?

11 because I'm too deep into my oc shit to post

2. what’s your total ao3 word count?

132,138

3. what fandoms do you write for?

mostly marvel with a little bit of mighty med/lab rats and bobs burgers

4. what are your top five fics by kudos?

Back From the Future - Loki and Stephen have kids who arrive in the past and need to beat the villain who sent them there and get home to their parents

In The End - Loki and Stephen meet for the first time after the battle of Thanos and have a moment of intimacy

Love is a Dagger - after Loki escapes the restrictive confines of the TVA, he finds himself in the arms of Stephen Strange

It's Me - Stephen can't find Loki but he does find a snake

On The Couch of the Sanctum - after a fight, Stephen is banished to the couch only to soon be joined by Loki who also can't sleep

5. do you respond to comments?

I used to because I loved every bit of attention I got, and I still do, but with my infrequent posting I often forget to respond since I don't put many fics up

6. what is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

As The World Crashes, Stephen dies in Loki's arms with no comfort

7. what’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

It's Me is literally just pure fluff

8. do you get hate on your fics?

thankfully no

9. do you write smut? if so, what kind?

I suck at it so no

10. do you write crossovers?

only for mighty med and lab rats which already had a TV crossover so idk if that counts

11. have you ever had a fic stolen?

my writing is not good enough to be stolen askdjf

12. have you ever had a fic translated?

nope

13. have you ever co-written a fic before?

I don't believe so? I've tried (cough @thedragonemperess cough) but never went through with it

14. what’s your all time favorite ship?

im still a sucker for Stephen and Loki even though I never write them anymore

15. what’s a wip you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Back From the Future because it's 140,000 words that are just sitting there, and only 97k are posted

16. what are your writing strengths?

strengths? me? probably creating angst

17. what are your writing weaknesses?

fight scene

18. thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

Ive done it before but I stopped cause I'm so worried about messing shit up askdjf

19. first fandom you wrote for?

Sanders Sides

20. favorite fic you’ve written?

i don't remember most of them so I'm just going to say The Accidental Set Up which is a mighty med/lab rats because it's more recent and I do really like it

20 questions for 20 writers !!

thank u to @localdisasterisk for tagging me in this! i honestly do not know how many writers i follow so um. ill tag my pibe fic besties @wheelsupin-azarathmetrionzinthos @angelwiththeblue-box @fatestitcherr @incorrect-play-it-by-ear and the rest of u can fight amongst yourselves

1. how many works do you have on ao3?

48. i don’t know if its more concerning that almost half of them are from the past five months or that almost half are play it by ear. its the same almost half but still

2. what’s your total ao3 word count?

143,389. woof

3. what fandoms do you write for?

obviously play it by ear. everyone knows that. also d20 occasionally and project sekai. unfortunately

4. what are your top five fics by kudos?

toya and mizuki’s step by step guide to romancing a shinonome — i will be so real with you guys i specifically crafted this one to be popular. and then i fell in love with it along the way. but it did start as a science experiment

let me take you with me (just like this) — WHY. this is my second pjsekai fic and my fourth fic ever posted. it’s not at all reflective of my current style. help

kiss it better — yeah. same issue as the other one. this one’s better though lmao

say you miss me (say you want to kiss me) — honestly? just impressed a honakana fic made it up this high. love my girlies

the moon is crumbling (but that’s okay) — yeah everyone pretend to be surprised the ruikasa fic got this high up. it was a new concept for me, though, so i’m pretty proud of that

5. do you respond to comments?

i used to, but not really anymore unfortunately. to be fair, i will point you all to the fact that most of my recent fics are pibe, and then to the discord where we all scream about them together

6. what is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

i don’t usually. write sad endings. bc i don’t like them. okay that’s not true i just usually don’t. i guess the moon is crumbling?? if i had to choose?? it’s more bittersweet than anything, but people did say they cried, so…

7. what’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

99.9% of my fics are getting together fics. it’s just the same ending a million different ways. you tell me

8. do you get hate on your fics?

not publicly!

9. do you write smut? if so, what kind?

i would simply be too powerful if i could. this is for your safety actually

10. do you write crossovers?

in the sense of characters across universes/media interacting? no. in the sense of “i am going to put my blorbos in every single other setting i slightly enjoy”? absolutely. putting them under a microscope. researching and recording how they react to their surroundings

11. have you ever had a fic stolen?

not to my knowledge!

12. have you ever had a fic translated?

i simply do not think there is a demand for my fics in other languages. not in like a depressing way, it’s just that i’m writing for like five people including myself, so. yknow

13. have you ever co-written a fic before?

no, but if someone wanted to… 👀

14. what’s your all time favorite ship?

i’ve never written for them (yet, at least), but by sheer volume and span of time i have to say souyo persona4. my silly boys. i’ve never scoured the entire tag for a ship multiple times on ao3 like i have for them. i have so many thoughts about them that have never seen the light of day but they exist!!

15. what’s a wip you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

stares awkwardly at feed your anger like fire… i’ve tried!! but it turns out that sometimes you get stuck on clothing designs and stop writing and then lose passion for the project and then stop updating for three years because you were too ambitious and also you hate your old writing style. not that i would know anything about that

16. what are your writing strengths?

i think i’m really good at dialogue, or at least banter. unfortunately this makes me very judgmental but that’s not important. also i can create a vibe well i’ve been told

17. what are your writing weaknesses?

in general? i SUCK at character description, or at least knowing where and when to place it. i also always worry about characterization and if my characters sound too similar

18. thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

i used to read so many fics that centered around using another language (shoutout bmc fandom when i was. in that. a dark period of my life, but alas) and honestly if it’s done well i think it’s cool!! i’m not going to get into the intricacies of bilingualism on account of being an english only speaker but it is rad to me

19. first fandom you wrote for?

wrote for? probably warriors. yes the cats. i had a whole fanfic for my oc. shoutout to… honestly i don’t remember her name but she was a real one! wrote for and posted is another story, by which i mean i don’t remember At All. probably bandori tbh, bc i don’t remember if i posted fanfic on my wattpad

20. favorite fic you’ve written?

either the venn diagram of curses and crushes (which is still my favorite fic title ever) or soaking in the glory. one of them is a 3k word expedition into the play it by ear canon space and the other is a 7k word fever dream i went into a fugue state to write in two days. honorable mention to the like the sweetest cup of chai series which i hold so close to my heart. silliest besties of all time

[wraithsoutlaws]

If your OCs (+DumDum for fun) had fursonas what would they be

oh im glad you asked!!

dagger would be rat, of course (i've actually thought about drawing this on numerous occasions.) think Ratigan but not fancy. just totally scrungled and vicious, leading a rat army ripping their enemies to pieces and relishing in trash. i could honestly also see him as some sort of alleycat too, very sleek and cool and untrustworthy but still very stinky.

al would either be a deer or a cabbit (her mom winnie would definitely be a rabbit). i'm leaning towards cabbit because the playfulness of a cat mixed with the softness/innocence of a rabbit feels right for her.

zephyr would be a fox. he'd be a standard red fox but his fur would be white and he'd tell people he was an arctic fox to seem cooler.

jet would be a brown bear. his nickname is already "little bear." kind of solitary, but scary when need be and i can't for the life of me pick something for dragula. it'd have to be something strange and foreboding but it's not coming to me at the moment. maybe a bat or some kind of reptile.

and honestly...i think dum dum would be a dog! loyal, protective and vicious, but he can be friendly and personable too. some sort of mangy mutt with a slight touch of rabies maybe.

[yuppie-devil]

Familiars

“After reviewing several non official studies on the Hexenhammer, I begin to think we are missing the key role of the Familiar spirits: Spider, Bat, Cat, Rat, White Wolf, Owl, Raven, Toad, and the most important of all…The Snake”

Felt like the pictures of the familiars represented some of the characters in Yuppie Psycho so I made a post about it

Spider: This one is unclear, but I believe it could be either Nazari or the Spider guy you fight in the library. I believe it could be Nazari because the witch whispers their name when you find the “mummy” with the Hexenhammer in the library

Bat: An obvious one, but it’s Spader. In the game, he’s sometimes referred to as “Mr. Bat” and his tendency to drink suspiciously red liquids

Cat: Sosa, she’s sometimes referred to as Ms.Cat and takes care of the cats on the 7th floor. The drawing of the cat is found on her desk and there are eyes drawn next to the cat. This is symbolic of Sosa’s eyes being gouged out when the witch attacks the party.

Rat: The Forest Goblin. He is sometimes referred to as Mr. Rat and in the drawing, the rat has a piece of cheese. The Forest Goblin loves cheese.

White Wolf: It’s very unclear, but I do believe it could be Domori. Her animal features are more canine-like because of her wagging tail and pointed ears.

Owl: Another unclear one, but I believe it’s Nazari or Moeta. Both the owl and Moeta have a similar bell/chimes motif that plays when they are on-screen or when you donate to Moeta’s shrine. The owl is also in the graveyard where you eventually meet Moeta near the Sintras’ graves. But it also could be Nazari because you find the owl illustration in the room with the corpse of Nazari, and also because of the owl appearing near the mummified corpse in the Library where the voice says “Nazari.” A letter in the archives references an,” old owl man.” Perhaps this could be Nazari?

Raven: Another obvious one, but it’s Corvo. Other than the obvious point of his name is a reference to the Corvid family of birds, which includes crows and ravens, he is also referred to as “The Crow” by A.M. The drawing also includes a key, and you find the key of the graveyard in the secret floor where Corvo seemed to reside at one point.

Toad: Hugo, his alter ego is quite literally called “Super-Toad” and is referred to as Mr. Toad later on. The Witch Hunters, specifically Corvo, called him,” Tadpole.” The drawing also features a dagger, which Hugo presumably stole from Corvo after his death.

Snake: Another one that is sort of unclear, but Domori’s snake familiar seems like the most obvious one. What the crown means is also unclear but it could signify the fact that the snake was the closest to Domori and the most important of all of the familiars?

[where-is-my-beheading-ceremony]

More headcannons since I have nothing better to do and I'm hyperfixating on nexo knights this evening

-Post season 4, Jestro tried to escape the kingdom before his sentence was over, wanting to start life anew with the company of Roberto maybe since they're the only one who were still okay with him

-He almost managed. When I mentioned all the electrical charge he still had in him, he used it to cut out the power in the place he was held in and ended up knocking out all the dependent power in the capital. After that he barely had any charge left in him, which is good since it's not supposed to be there in the first place

-Only after the knights caught him was when they were willing to listen to his side of the story

-After that, he stayed with the knights in the fortrex and was able to roam around towns freely if there was someone keeping watch on him. Forests and other places were okay though

-Jestro has some minor sourness towards Merlok because of multiple small reasons and refuses to see him as a hero to all of Knightonia

-He criticizes (in his mind) his lack of thinking when protecting the kingdom, his lack of ability to keep Monstrox as a book away, the fact they never got rid of him, how he hid the fact he's Clay's uncle, how quick he is to give up and how much he found out the Wizard council is corrupt which Merlok is a part of. Also the fact he probably keeps even more secrets, said straight to his face "Can't wait for you to reveal another major secret when it's too late." and to be truthful, Jestro is right for not fully trusting Merlok, they have many secrets that shouldn't be left hidden.

TW: MENTIONS OF SCARS (safe to read after the " - - - - - "line)

.

.

.

.

- Jestro has a large lightning shaped scar that goes down the left side of his back and reach till his calfs

- He also has scars from being zapped in the head, but his hair is puffy and long enough to cover them fully since they're not at the top of his head

-A few burn scars are just scattered around his body from his first possession. Living in a castle of lava was dangerous even though he had a minor immunity to it

-He never dared to let go of the staffs he had and managed to keep excellent guard on them, his grip on them always vicious. It resulted in calloused palms.

-Since it always annoyingly stung, he had bandages wrapped around his palms to let them heal a bit

-During his second possession, Jestro was very detached from most of his senses and emotions. All he knew is that he was alive and served the purpose of bringing chaos and destruction.

-That caused him to be less receptive to things he should avoid, like anything that could lightly harm him, jumping off of high places, falling, bruising himself on accident. His body wasn't in a state that a human could bare so he never even noticed if he was cold or not, it wasn't natural blood that was flowing through his veins after all.

-unfortunately there definitely are lives that were lost to his hands

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

-Looking at him in seasons 3-4 just made me cold. Man barely had any of his outfit left

-He's a runner, he's a trackstar. This young man can run further than any of the knights. He's ran away from dangers and problems his whole life. He's short, but his legs are relatively long and he doesn't find it hard to run since he's trained to be light on his feet.

-His flexibility is frightening. You will see him casually relaxing in an unnatural position for sure. He would often use his flexibility as a sort of intimidation thing in seasons 3-4, looking like some type of spider with his body movement. If he were to start approaching you, his ragdoll body would seem a lot more terrifying than you first may think

-He offers to help the Knights do some flexibility exercises since their lack of ability to even do a decent split pains him

-Since he stays with the knights post season 4, that's when he starts to help them exercise and spends more time with them casually as well as joins them for morning runs

-With a little help, he decided to make himself useful and with enough knowledge, became a sort of aid to the knights, helping them with any injuries after battles or training.

-The best weapon he can work with is a spear or daggers (anything light), though he still refuses to train with any weapon.

-This poor man now avoids any sort of magic like it's a plague, afraid to get involved with it as his body is too receptive to it.

-He still encourages Clay to carefully train his magic though.

-This man surprisingly has some knowledge of programming (inspired by the season 5 episode 1 script)

-Due to that, he sort of found something he could talk about with Robin and Ava. And even if he doesn't know much, he knows enough to keep the conversation going

-He got along with Ava and Robin pretty quickly and enjoys the fact they don't try and expect something from him

-Since he's usually in the fortrex while the Knights are on missions, he ended up spending enough time with these two children to become a sort of big brother, caretaker figure. Not a big one, but he still tries to help them

-He understands Ava and Robin a lot and doesn't enjoy the pressure that is always placed on the two of them since they're still young so if there's any way for him to deny any non priority requests the knights have for the two of them, he doesn't hesitate to do so unless it's something Ava and Robin want to work on

-After a nightmare, Jestro gets very bad, but thankfully temporary paranoia and there's no reasoning with him, best to try and comfort him and wait it out.

-He once tried to visit the lava village since he doesn't remember the negative view the lava monsters have on him

-He considered himself to not be too harsh on them since he sometimes encouraged breaks and would spoil them with tasty treats, just like he later did with the stone monsters, even when he was a lot more detached around that time.

-Turns out, the Lava monsters were n o t glad to see him, but thankfully had no intentions to hurt him

-They did tell him some hurtful words and tried to violently kick him out

-Jestro was in such shock from that, but nevertheless, did his best to quickly apologize and show how genuine it was since the lava monsters were the closest thing he ever had to a family. They were always there and were capable to be genuine and had amazing dreams. Their warmth gave him comfort and that's what he confessed in his apology

-Reluctant, the Lava monsters forgave him, but Jestro still felt a bit detested from what they had said about him earlier. Which left him in shock for quite a bit since nothing hurt him more than words, everyone knows that by now.

-Good thing though, he fixed his relationship with them quickly though! And now is an awaited guest at the village all the time. Often times participating in the activities of each lava monster. Especially Magmar's cookie baking and the bakery's work

-Another thing he avoids like a plague is any student or teacher he sees from the Academy he went to. He could not handle any confrontation with them and is most detested by those people.

-while after season 2, people saw Jestro more as an annoyance and as trouble to still be allowed to do as he please. After the events of season 4, Jestro actually managed to strike fear in many of these people since the kingdom was severely damaged after these two, you could say, monster wars.

-He has a mild liking for animals like reptiles or those most people dislike, like rats or Hyenas so when he was once at the zoo with the other knights, he admired the serpent exhibit and at the same time had to stop Clay from losing his mind since Clay has a fear of snakes.

-After he managed to ease his attachment to his Jester attire, he once exited the bathroom after a shower without his hat and with some random sweater and sweatpants and was almost beaten up because the knights thought he was an intruder.

-Clay was the only one that ever actually saw or touched Jestro's hair

-Jestro's first hat was actually made by his mother and since he didn't want to let go of it when he became a Jester, he altered it to be a Jester had, but kept the same material

-He has vague memories of his mother, the nicknames she gave him, the toys he used to have, but has absolutely zero information about his father.

Lmao I'll make part 3 right after this since I have a lot more ideas, but just don't want to stuff them into one post

[dragonrajafanfiction]

Genji Heavy Industries (Part 9) Majesty

Chisei simps come and get your FOOD Come and get your FOOD.

The female Deadpool is panting. Her tongue flops over her extended mandible like a dead thing. She lies on the floor unable to lift her head. Her hair lies around her face like a dark shaggy curtain. But still she reaches out and swats a red dot. She’d pursued this red thing through the hall, jealousy preventing her from letting any other curious ones from claiming her prize. And yet she still didn’t have it.

Her claw lands on the red dot and it appears on top of her hand. She tries again, still failing to capture the red dot.

But before she could let out a hiss of frustration, a gentle touch fell on her head. She didn’t notice the human walking up to her as she was focused on the red dot. Her muscles twitch but before she can turn around and strike at the attacker, the touch turns into a massage on her scalp.

MC, you remember how it felt to be gently and lovingly caressed like this. The Female Deadpool made a significant dent in the numbers of beasts in the room and you felt she deserved a small reward. Like you, she was born to be a killer and had no affection shown to her in life. So you figured affection would be a nice thing to feel in her last moments. She makes a little noise, almost like a whimper and her jaw drops as she stares, vision focusing beyond the red dot now.

You press the muzzle of the mercury core pistol against the back of her head and pull the trigger. For the deadpool, it was a flash of light and oblivion. The beast falls flat, the pattern of her black blood making a fountain shape that extends out from her head.

Your laughter fades back into a cold sort of boredom. “That was fun, while it lasted.” 

You step over her body and shoot down at her hand, neatly severing the nearly foot long serrated sickle shaped claw. You pick it up.

Caesar strafed as he advanced, closing in on the  shaded wall in the center of the hall, with Deadpool gathering on all sides. In their eyes, he and Zihang were like two dishes that were ascending to the table on their own. .A Deadpool approached Caesar from the side while Caesar's fire was focusing on the front. Caesar did not even turn his gaze. Chu Zihang dashed up with a bayonet and stabbed it. The Deadpool closed its hands to block. The gun went through its palm bone. Not only did not have a painful reaction but fiercely closed his hands to hold the gun’s muzzle. Chu Zihang leaned down and charged, forcing Deadpool back with his gun, when Caesar pulled out the Colt pistol that was etched with the words "Western Watch" from his waist. 

Western Watch fired like a thunderstorm, large-caliber bullets landing accurately into the abdomen of the deadpool, and then they exploded. The splash of mercury inside the bullets was heated by gunpowder, and the air filled with mercury vapor. The scales of the monsters who were splashed by the mercury became pale and then fell off, and a greenish-white mercury scar appeared on their skin. 

"Wow! The Japanese weaponry looks more useful than the Academy's mercury core bomb!" Caesar was quite surprised. 

Chu Zihang nailed the Deadpool to a column with the enhanced crossbow through the hole Caesar punched through its abdomen. The mercury was eroding its body at high speed. The bayonet penetrated its chest, but it still hissed and lunged at Chu Zihang, letting the whole gun barrel pass through its chest until the barrel was covered with thick black blood. Chu Zihang pulled the bag on his shoulder, and a bundle of swords fell at his feet. He grabbed a hilt in his hand and stabbed straight through the chest to cut off the spine of the monster. The nervous system is the weak point. After the destruction of the spine, it was finally powerless and could only hang there. Chu Zihang sheathed the blade waist, then drew a shotgun and returned to stand back to back with Caesar.

He turns to you. “MC! Come closer!”

Although you felt fine on your own, military discipline was too ingrained for you not to immediately obey your Senior Brother.

As soon as you turn to hurry, you’re cut off by a tall man-shaped serpent. His coil surrounds you, a foot and a half high of pure muscle, intending to keep you from running away and corral you into his strike zone. But this stupid creature didn’t understand that you weren’t a rabbit to run away from a serpent.

In the story of Rikki-Tikki-Tavi, Rudyard Kipling explains, “If you read the old books of natural history you will find that they say that when the mongoose fights the snake and happens to get bitten, he runs off and eats some herb that cures him. That is not true. The victory is only a matter of the quickness of eye and quickness of foot, - the snake's blow against the mongoose's jump, - and, as no eye can follow the motion of a snake's head when it strikes, that makes things more amazing than any magic herb.”

The golden snake-like beast lunges at you and you jump to the side, landing on its massive coil while raising your gun. The strike brought the snake man’s head in line with the barrel just as you fired. But this all seemed to happen in an instant of time. 

To observers, the snake lunged and you jumped at the same time as you shot. And then you kept shooting in quick succession. You couldn’t kill the beast with your puny pistol, but the power was enough to act like a punch or a kick and you used it that way, using bullets as a fist slamming into its jaw. It recovered, shaking the ringing from its head, but you weren’t in front of it.

Snk-snk-snk.

The claw of the dead female deadpool was sharp enough and hard enough not to need the assistance of mercury. With it, you severed the beast's cervical, thoracic and lumbar spine. The creature sat back on its coil but it could no longer move at all.

You hurry to Ceasar and Chu Zihang and they stand in front of you.

Caesar emptied the six mercury bursts in the Western Watch. The smoke of refined mercury filled the hall. The fire driven wind intensified the speed of the spread of smoke. The Deadpool instinctively feared this smoke, and, for a time, did not dare to approach you. Caesar took the opportunity to do suppression fire with submachine guns.

You approached the center of the hall step by step, hundreds of deadpool around you. Their baby-like cries echoed in all directions. Countless pale human faces emerged in the firelight. Some are old and some are young. Some faces have been distorted and deformed. Some faces can still remind people you may have met in the street passing by. There are shy teenagers and mature women, but when their skulls open to reveal thorny sharp teeth, they all turn into evil spirits. 

"We're like rats breaking into a snake breeding ball with leather slingshots in our hands." Caesar discarded the Sten submachine gun in his hand and also drew his Winchester shotgun. 

You glance up at him and smile. You hadn’t smiled this much since you met. You want to tell him to speak for himself. Caesar was trying to use strength and force to kill these beasts, but his strength and his force were barely enough. The best way to fight these creatures was with speed and with wits.

But military discipline in battle requires absolute reverence for authority. “Yes but you are the pretty blond rat, and Chu Zihang is the scary black rat and I’m the cute one.” You feel a slight pain in your chest. “I miss Lu Mingfei… He would have been a funny rat.”

“I’m sure he’s fine. Let’s just focus on getting out of here.” Caesar shakes his head in amazement at your response.  Chu Zihang shoves one of the submachine guns in your hand and you scarcely resist pouting. You didn’t want it.

In the center of the hall, the strongest Deadpool is devouring the dead. It is more than twice the size of the other Deadpool. Since the beginning, It has not joined the attack on you. It is single-mindedly dealing with the meal in front of it, first vomiting out slime to lubricate the corpse, and then slowly devouring it with large audible gulps like a snake. It seems that the group has a hierarchy like a herd of animals. The strongest deadpool are like the head wolf dominating the freshest bloody food. Others dare not share food with it. Otherwise they might end up swallowed with their companions. It was closest to Caesar and looked like a middle-aged balding man. He may have been a middle-aged balding man in life, but no one could have imagined that he could have such a large body after dragonization. His bloated belly wriggled against the ground. His swollen head and neck jiggled as it moved.

It turned its head to the three of you with what appeared to be a smiling expression, saliva dripping down. This was not the first time  a Deadpool had shown an expression that approximated a smile, and it looked like it was expressing joy at the sight of food. The group of Deadpool had driven you to the center of the hall to let the strongest Deadpool feed first. 

This is why Chu Zihang had given you the machine gun. There was no way the claw you were using as a dagger could penetrate this boss-monster’s fatty layer. You tuck it into your belt.

Caesar’s Winchester shotgun spewed out a dense stream of sparks, and the middle-aged balding man version of Deadpool was blasted in the face. Its upper body tilted back as if broken. Its bloated belly is still sitting on the floor. 

"Baldness and bloating like this is also something I do not like!" Caesar yelled. 

“I was thinking more of the disgusting vomit and macrophagy but… sure yeah… Ew, a fatty.” You mutter.

The vast majority of people would have fainted in fear in the face of the Deadpool's slight smile, but it was facing the thugs out of Cassell College. Chu Zihang drew his Sten submachine gun and expressionlessly sent  the dense bullets to punch a bloody hole in that Deadpool's snake belly. You frown at yourself. There was no point in mindlessly firing at such a bullet sponge.

The bloated death servitor slowly sat up, like a sleeping human bending down to get up. Its bloated belly squirmed and boiled inside, and its body grew taller. It was only a man tall when it moved with its belly against the ground, but now it had reared up and transformed into a three-meter-tall giant, not counting the tail coiled on the ground. The tiny human body on the magnificent snake looked so incongruous, like a pregnant mother mantis. 

Chu Zihang takes two swords and slowly stretches his arms forward. There is no road ahead. This is your last battlefield. All the deadpool follow their chief and also "stand". Strong tails support the sturdy upper bodies as they rear up like cobras, their height ranging from two to three meters. All around you, these trembling snake bodies are like a fleshy forest.

“Whale.” You say to yourself. Only a long harpoon could penetrate all that flesh to get to the tender parts inside but you didn’t have anything like that and the way back to the weaponry room was completely cut off.

A black shadow descended like a diving eagle and landed along the back of the chief of the deadpool with the light of a clear blue blade! Chisei Gen brought his full force down onto his twinblades, Onimaru and Dojigiri, sank them in completely, almost to the hilt, and cut the chief of the beasts from the back of the neck along its spine in a long bloody line. He violently twisted his hands and a piece of vertebrae cracked. The monster deadpool’s entire spine collapsed section by section to the floor. Chisei landed in a crouch, then he spun, Onimaru in his right hand, slicing in a flat rotating swing parallel to the ground that cut off the deadpool’s tail. The huge body completely lost support, tilted and fell forward toward Chisei. Chisei dodged sideways, still cutting at the massive beast with twin swords.

Chisei Gen had your speed and wit, but he also had strength that you didn’t have. You stared, face blank. Your eyes following this gorgeous and effortless blade dance. You sigh, eyes wide. “Woah.”

The leader of the deadpool was dead before he hit the ground. It was breathtakingly beautiful to you and you shoved your machine gun back into Caesar’s carry bag without saying a word or even looking at him. You drew your knife and ran forward leaving the two men who had been your companions for weeks. It was as if you had suddenly switched sides in the middle of the fight!

Chisei was still wearing the clothes from the document room, though his trench coat was gone. His upright and muscular body is wrapped in a bloody torn dress shirt, black slacks and leather shoes. He turns that body as you approach and you see his face in profile. It was delicate and feminine, with skin that was not quite pale, just like Z’s. A dark drop of black blood makes a tear like trail down his face. His mouth is moving, teeth flashing slightly behind pale lips, speaking a chilling series of forbidden words. The winds change and stir his dark hair as his eyes slowly blaze gold. You stop and freeze in place. Chu Zihang and Caesar are still firing their guns but Chisei is no longer moving.

The field of the wind expanded slowly, seemingly gently, with a faint violet fluorescence at the borders. The Deadpool in the field prostrated themselves on the ground with fear and trembling. Their hands pressed spasmodically to the ground, black tears of blood flowing from their eyes. 

Chu Zihang and Caesar were shocked. They couldn't feel any difference, but the group of deadpool seemed to be sensitized.  They knelt down to Chisei, like a defeated general facing a victorious king. The field eventually covered the whole mural hall. Chisei walked into the group of monsters with the Dojigiri and Onimaru, waving his sword along the way to cut off the head of one deadpool after another, advancing like a lawn mower. Black fountains of blood burst from their necks. The effect of Gen Chisei’s Yanling is surprisingly to make the enemy willingly accept the killing. 

He glanced back at you briefly and you find your wits again. It was if he were leading you. You bounced after him like a young wolf, joining in the bloodshed with your knife, stacking up bodies in his wake, like a young chick following the example of a mighty eagle parent.

"Shit! Is this mind control?" Caesar muttered. 

"No, it's not mind control, look underneath the bodies of those monsters!" Chu Zihang said. 

The marble floor is slowly cracking, which means there is an amazing weight pressing on the ground. What kind of weight can crack the marble floor? A few tons or a dozen tons? What does it feel like for bones to bear this super-gravity? 

You understood that these beasts were not willingly allowing you to slit their throats, but they could not resist. Their weight increased dozens of times in an instant, so heavy that it was difficult to even lift their arms. If they didn’t lie down, their vertebrae would be crushed. 

Speech Spirit - Majesty, serial number 91, belongs to that category of speech spirits that have surpassed the scope of human understanding.

It was a Speech Spirit much like your own. 

[psycho-pass-saiko]

A bit change in order of the events in Gekijouban. What would happen if Akane was also kidnapped with Kougami?

…

Inside the abandoned chapel,the air was damp and smelly. It was already past sunset, the base of the enemy was enlighetened with dim lights. At the center of the chapel, six bodies were present.

“No! NO!” A desperation mixed furious voice escaped from Kogami’s sore throat. A man with a quite bulky appearence, started to walk towards Akane. Kogami tried to rise on his feet but the chains around his wrists were pulled instantly to sides once he moved. He grunted through his teeth, tasting the metalic taste of his blood in his mouth. He was bleeding, almost everywhere. His black shirt was shattered, half of it was hanging from his abdomen to the ground. On his bare skin you could see the whip wounds as well as small yet good amount of blade cuts. He was chained through his wrists, his arms were forcefully hanged to his sides by a blonde woman and a midget man. They once again pulled his arms to warn him to behave. Pain was everywhere. He had a high tolarence of pain yet he just wanted to whine, laying on the cold stone floor. But he knew he couldnt. Because-

“Fuck off!” Kougami, once again cursed when he heard Akane’s distressed voice. His blurry vision focused once again on her. The bulky short haired blonde man was now next to her, grabbing her arms over her head, he sat on her waist.

“Looking at him, maybe we should have called him “Target Romeo” instead of Delta, hmm?” said the black man with a whip in his hands. For a second Kogami didnt hear him as he was too busy worrying about Akane at that moment. He hissed, rose on his knees. He grabbed the chains with his palms, pulling them forward. The men who was handling his chains were caught off of guard so they tripped one or two steps, allowing him to have a step forward. It was enough for him to face the bastard. Their leader, with a bionic arm and leg was nowhere to be seen. Instead of him another man of his, with a basic black shirt and trousers but striking red hair , was carrying out their torture session. He startled when beaten up Kougami got closer. With a calm yet bloodthirsty whisper, Kougami looked directly into their torturer’s eyes.

“If you touch her one more time,” he narrowed his eyes, continued with his stone cold voice. “ I will tear you apart limb by limb with my own teeth.”

Everyone in the room halt for a second.

Red haired man was the first to break away from the hostile threat of his. He gulped down, smirked eagerly.

“Not before i tear you apart, you rice-rat.” Just as he finished his sentence, his whip found Kougami’s face. With a sudden pain he kneeled down once again, gasping for air.

“Kougami! Get the fuck off me right now!” Akane saw the moment whip hitting his face. She was also tortured, kicked, punched, even stripped halfway from her clothes. She had only her cargo pants and bra on, her torso fully naked. But nothing hurted as much as seeing him suffering in front of her, more than her. She felt the furious tears coming to her eyes but instead she growled behind her throat, facing the man who was on her stomach. Short haired blonde man was gazing upon her,as if she was a meal he was about to enjoy. She frowned with rage. “Get of me!” hissed. Who was sitting on her was a very muscular man with bionic limbs over his chest and shoulders, twice--no, triple size of her. She realized taking a breath got harder every second. But she didnt care about it, her only thoughts were about how to kick this prick’s ass as soon as possible. She heard some chain clatters but couldnt turn her head as the guy grabbed her chin with a force. “You are one wild cat, arent you?” His disgusting giggling almost made Akane throw up, but she had nothing in her stomach to do so. So she spitted on his face instead.

“Free me and i will show you what kind of cat i am, you idiot!” she threated him but only got another laugh as a response. Fingers around her chin squeezed her skin more.

“I now see why he is favoring you, kitty. Its much more fun when your partner is wild and reluctant as you are.” The bulky guy, suddenly grabbed her left breast with his free hand. Akane, flinched with the sudden touch but didnt make any sounds, only frowning more. He leaned forward, more of his weight crushing her. His face was so close that she could smell the alcohol from his stinky breath. Akane heard a sudden gasping from her left and looked towards it. Only to catch Kogami’s gaze with hers. She felt shivers on every part of her body. Not because the touch on her skin, but the look in his eyes. His usual bright blue shines were nowhere to be seen. A fresh red wound was over his right forehead to end of his right cheek, covering his agonized expression. His gaze was now pitch black, reminding her a black hole. The monster inside him was already ready to take the control. She almost saw the image of a hellhound. Kogami, didnt- couldnt hold himself anymore, with a exhale, he released the creature inside of him.

A loud thud and one painful scream.

These were the only things Akane could hear when her face once again forcefully pulled back as the guy was kissing, nimping her bare neck now.

Everything happened in seconds.

Kougami, now more different than his usual self, more brutal, grabbed the chain in his right palm and pulled with a sudden inhumanly power, breaking the steel. The woman who was holding the chain fell on the floor but no one cared about her at that moment, since Kougami was already attacking the man in front of him. His right hand, chain still hanging on his wrist, grabbed the neck of the red haired man who was smirking. With a hoarse growl under his breath, he cracked his neck bone as he closed his grasp over him. Man’s body went limp, the smirk still on his lips. Well, he didnt find time to change his expression. Kougami opened his fingers to drop the corpse in his hand. He remembered the second guy who was holding the chain on his left arm when his arm pulled backwards. But Kougami didnt move an inch, only aimed for the guy who was still on Akane. Swinging his right arm back, he threw the broken chain in his right hand to forward. Chain, as his plan, found its aim, tangled around the bulky guy’s neck like a snake as Kougami grabbed the steel and pulled him back. The blonde guy, with shock and confusion, reached to his choked throat with both of his hands, releasing Akane. Making the biggest mistake. Akane without spending a second rose up halfly with her torso and punched the adam apple’s of the guy’s, just over the chains.

She felt the crack before hearing it.

First his eyes shutted down then his body went unconscious over her. But this time Akane pulled herself to left, saving herself from getting crushed by his massive shape. The chain over the laying man was fiercely pulled back again, only then she hurried and pulled her legs from the weight of him. She quickly stood up, turning to Kougami’s side. He was being dragged on the floor as the woman who fell before also started to pull the chain attached to his left arm. Akane panickly turned back to the body of the bulky man, she grabbed the dagger which was placed on the belt of his right leg, then dashed towards the enemy.

Kougami was on his knees and right hand, but another strong pull made him fell on his left side. His bare chest scraped over the rough stone floor. He felt his skin peeled. With a sour whine he blinked. Just before of his blinking, Kougami saw a glance of a brunette hair although his blood was blocking his sight. Akane, reached to the attackers. Woman dropped her grip of the chains and reached over Akane. But she squated down, attacking from low ground, she stabbed her side, near to her kidney. Blonde woman grunted with immerse pain and doubled over, yet Akane saw the odd smile on her face. With a shiver on her spine Akane elbowed her face before turning over the other guy, leaving the dagger on the woman’s body . As she lifted her head to right she was startled when she found a chilly feeling of the metal, now a gun was on her forehead.

“Stop right now! Kneel!” shouted the short, ponytailed man. She could see his hesitation, even in his prosthetic yellow eyeball.

Akane sighed, gave him a bold look.

“You are not even holding the handgrip right.”

The guy, one hand on Kogami’s chain other holding a gun to her, frowned with confusion. And this moment was the moment she was yearning for.

She quickly hit the inside of his gun holding wrist and with a twist she took the gun from his hand, now aiming his head with a stable aim.

“Loose the chain. Now.” She hissed with a wrathful expression on her. Her finger tensed on the trigger.

Short man instantly dropped the chain that he was holding and without even looking his back started to run with gasps.

Not until he disappeared into the darkness of the corridor in front of them Akane relieved. But she immediately tensed up again, turned to her behind. Kougami was laying on the ground, facedown, seemed to be unconsicous.

She panicked and reached to his body in a couple of steps. She glided on her knees next to him on the ground, carefully turning him to his back. His left arm was reaching backwards on the ground, as she carefully grabbed his arm bringing to his side.

“Kougami?” a shaky voice called his name.

She didnt get a response.

All those years as a detective, all those corpses or the murder scenes she saw, nothing made her lose her cool, not completely at least.

But now, she felt her heart stopped. All the blood in her veins, turned into ice.

“Kougami!” She gasped with a dying scream, holding his face between her palms. He was cold. So cold. Or was it her fingers? She couldnt tell the diferrence as the panic spreaded over her body more each second. She slicked his bloody damp hair aside, tried to open his eyes. But they shutted down once she stoped touching his eyelids.

Her hands started to tremble, moving around his limp, wounded body. She felt the bruises, semi healed wounds, open and still bleeding cuts.... there was so much blood, so much... while her fear grew bigger inside her own chest, she remembered her first-aid lessons as she leaned over his teared shirt to listen his heartbeats. Just the second agter she put her left ear on his heart, Kougami coughed harshly, shaking her head. Akane quickly pulled her head back and leaned over his face.

“Kougami?! Kougami, can you hear me? Kouga-“

“Stop screaming for a second, please.” He whispered with his dry chapped lips, voice hoarse. His eyes were still closed but a second later they opened slowly. A grayish blue flames showed themselves under the yellow dim lights. His gaze went over her as far as they can, since he couldnt even move his head.

“Are you okay? Do you have any wounds? Where are they- UGH!” She slammed him down when he desperately tried to rise on his elbow.

“For fucks sake, stay down. Oh my god,” she cursed between her sobs. Wiped her own tears to see him clearer, as she was only looking a distorted vision of him a second ago because of the burning tears in her eyes. Kougami knew it was serious, if she was cursing.

“Are you in pain?” He asked softly. Akane looked at his eyes. She saw the pure worry inside of them.

“You are the one who was laying dead just a second ago, dont you dare ask me if i am in pain. Of course i am,” She sobbed once more trying to block the unstoppable tears. She leaned over his face, her forehead on his.

“Please, dont, dont ever do that again.”

Kougami wanted to tease her with a joke but tiredness was stronger. He only sighed to her lips. “I am okay now. Calm down. See?” His trembling right hand placed on her left hand, grabbing his face. As he moved his arm the chains tied to his wrist jangled.

“To be fair, i would much rather have the chains in the bedroom.” No matter how tired, Kougami was Kougami at the end. Akane snorted a small giggle, growing into a real laugh. When he heard her cracked laugh his lips also carved into a grin.

Akane leaned back to look his face properly, did a damage control. Except the whip wound on his face, everything was intact. His right eye was red with blood but it was also responding to her moves, meaning it was okay. She carressed his cheek slightly. “Thank you.”

Kougami leaned over her small palm, silently.

“You did all the job, i was tied down.” He opened his eyes, frowning, was obviously recalling the time when Akane was under that guy minutes ago. “ I should have skinned them alive-“

Akane, silencing him with her thumb on his lips, leaned and put her head on his chest again. Finding peace with his heartbeats. She closed her teary eyes, feeling his hand gently stroking the crown of her head.

‘’What it is in your small head, hmm?’’ asked Kougami.

With a sudden chilly wind, her short hair slicked back of her face. Akane slowly opened her eyes as she smelled the salty damp air of the ocean.

Her gaze met with the softest orange colored sunset of the beach where they were laying on a lounge chair, together.

As she tried to fathom the abrupt change of the scenery, she blinked once or twice. Her head was still on his chest. She could hear the steady heartbeats under his broad ribcage. She softly turned her head back to other side, placing her left ear on his chest. She encountered with his beauty, lighten with the mild sunset sunshine. His usual sharp features were now gentle than ever. Without realizing she reached over his cheek to caress his face. Kougami, leaned over her almost ghostly palm. He frowned, fixing his ocean gray irises on her caramel ones.

Akane only smiled as a response.

Thats was all a memory huh, she thought to herself.

Over their kidnapping, a year had passed. A year was a short period of time but the changes were severe on their life. He was now back in Japan, working for Foreign affairs. He had to travel a lot, as expected. And one of those travels turned out to be a good chance as a vacation for them. So here they were on a famous beach yet rather quiet one at the moment, cuddling as the sun was leaving the horizon for the moon to lighten the night.

She knew he was important to her. But that day, when he was lying half-dead in front of her, in her palms; she learnt he was essential to her, like every breathe she took.

She didnt want the world to turn without him.

She didnt want the sun to burn without him.

And most importantly, she didnt want to live a life without him.

Akane put her left palm on his chest, taking a slight boost from his strong muscles, she lifted her head. Now eye to eye, she let her smile get bigger. The whip wound on the right side of his face was almost gone.

‘’Uhm, nothing, just some memories.’’ She whispered, eyes falling down to his lips.

Kougami relaxed his eyebrows, completely letting himself vulnerable in her presence. He always knew the possibility that she could also get nightmares like him, or visions. And he knew it was not some bright memories she recollected a while ago, in his embrace, shaking subtly. He slowly turned his face to the left only to give a small kiss on her palm.

‘’I suggest you to stay in the moment, inspector.’’ He chuckled as Akane frowned lightly.

‘’ I am not one anymore,’’ referring the change in her title by the Sibyl system’s decision.

‘’ You are always one for me.’’ Said Kougami, fixing his eyes on her. He grinned when she got the meaning behind his sentence.

Clever girl, as always.

Another ocean breeze rushed through their embraced bodies, urging Kougami to cover his book holding hand over her back, gazing towards the horizon.

I cant judge her though, everything feels like a distant dream, he thought to himself. Her softness against his firm body, fair scent of her shampoo and salty ocean, complete calm and peace..

These were not the words or moments he kept in his mind so often. Yet, he decided to burn this moment to back of his eyelids. Like he had done to all the times he shared with her.

‘’ Didnt know you could be so poetic,’’ her voice pulled his eyes to herself again. One word from her lips could make him burn the world, destroy everything in sight. But instead, that one word happened to have more affect than any other, holding his ice cold heart with the warmest hug. ‘’Shinya.’’

Next thing he knew, he was already leaning forward to catch her lips like she did to his heart.

...

Here goes second attempt of me writing a lovely-dovely Shinkane, i hope you guy can enjoy now imma yeet myself to outer space byEEE