#do the Solaris count?

[alteredsilicone]

We need a headcount (heh) of bald men in warframe:

Nef, Chipper, Cavalero, Vilcor (father Entrati), Nihil, Frohd Bek, Konzu...

[traumawhomst]

Solaris and Songbird

A snippet of a full version of this earlier post I made

(450 words)

Fae King and (GN) Child Reader

The Summer King was not always the most kind Fae, he could scarcely afford it. In his world kindness was weakness waiting to be paid back in kind. So when he heard a young voice pierce his quiet peace, he decided to use the as a lesson about his forest. It would an easy task, appear and play with them a bit, maybe turn them to a songbird since they seemed to love their voice. A punishment to neglectful parents about teaching your child to walk around the forest alone as if they owned it.

He had admit that the child did have a rather sweet voice for a human, and he thought of doing something more than just a simple songbird, maybe one that could also speak and mimic sounds. It would be amusing if nothing else.

The child was bent over in the dirt, singing some old folk song, hair loosely pulled back dirty and sweaty. Who knows when they last had a bath, the King scoffed internally. It only strengthened his resolve to turn them to a songbird. At least he knew how to care for his things.

He stepped into the forest clearing, the air around them both growing thick and wild, a smell of hot summer grass hung like a cloud. The King watched with a smile as the figure froze in place, smart child, to know when they were outmatched, no grand heroics or disrespect would save them now. The child lifted their face, and the King was oddly pleased, it was cleaner than their hair and he could that the child had spent most of their life facing towards the sun. Their eyes looked the same as a fawn caught in the sight line of a wolf, but their mouth was turned into a hesitant smile.

The smile caught him off guard, and before he could think too much on it, the child open their mouth and spoke

“Hello,” they said, their voice soft with a slight tremor but a distinct note of hope, “what’s your name?”

With those simple four words, the King knew that this was to be his third child. A neglected songbird, but with a quick wit and curiosity that spoke of greater things than their tiny village. He wanted to scoop them up, and tell of all the great things they would see and do. But this was not his first time bringing a child of his own. So he smiled as he knelt to be closer to the eye level with the child.

“You, songbird, may call me, Solaris, may I know what you to call you songbird?”

When the child’s face brightened, any hesitation or second doubts were gone, this child was his and he couldn’t wait to bring them home.

[the-valiant-valkyrie]

Charles Bonnet syndrome refers to the visual hallucinations caused by the brain’s adjustment to significant vision loss

[right-agent]

ouhh.... can i have um ehm erm um 🥺🥺🥺🥺 ouhh... blood please.... some blood? for me? some blood? so

blood just for you a lot actually and (also a vampire)

also this doodle Anyway blood/various injuries under the cut

[spamtonromantic]

did you know the reason i never post about my ocs is because its all this

(the generic upper right guy is a baseline of the others, hes actually my boyfriends oc)

(the deer guy is also his but i accidentally added him)

[eratosmusings]

Stolen Destiny (IV)

summary: a proposal

warnings: adults only, all characters are over 18, past suicide, misogyny, allusions to murder, dark themes, canon typical violence, smut in future chapters

word count: 2k

previous chapter / dividers / masterlist

“The spitting image of your mother,” you hear more than once. Anger radiates from your father every time, yet he says nothing. He cannot in front of so many. How could he explain that the ghost of your mother fills him with such rage?

It’s a day spent in a stadium watching physical feats. It’s not all that entertaining in itself, but the guests are plied with drinks and food enough to not care. They place bets amongst themselves and you’re sure a few of them will end their visit here without a solari to their name. You want nothing more than to steal Irulan for the day, but duty kept her bound to the subjects who desired her attention. 

You weave through the crowd and let yourself be distracted by conversation with the lower houses. He watches. You can feel the weight of his gaze every time you smile or laugh or speak or breathe. 

“Looks like you’ve got someone’s attention,” one of the daughters giggles loudly. Others turn their heads. You brush it off and continue the conversation you’d been having about the next day's entertainment—an ancient play written before the Jihad.

The whispers of his attention follow you like his eyes. When it becomes overbearing you avoid it all and focus on the events in the arena. Men striking the ground with long poles to launch themselves over raised bars to see how far they land. The tightness in your shoulders eases when Feyd-Rautha finally breaks from the shadows. His looming figure shields you from the rays of the setting sun and the sight of intruding eyes as he stands beside you. “What uses would such a skill have?” he ponders. 

“Perhaps none,” you say. “But the strength they must build is noteworthy. These men train with swords and spears just as much as their poles.”

He hums in response as one of the men clears the bar. He lands the furthest you’ve seen, but his footing is poor. He doesn’t shout, though from his limp as walks away it’s evident the attempt injured him. “Perhaps they should train more on how they land.”

You can’t help but laugh. “Yes, perhaps.”

Together you watch in silence as the event rolls into the next.

“I must admit my surprise at your appearance today, my lady. I had thought you preferred a more subdued look.”

A man runs with a spear in hand. Inches from a line they’d drawn in the grass he throws it. “That is my father’s preference.” The tip embeds itself in the ground yards away. “Is it yours as well?”

He does not answer. He cannot. Paul invades the space between you. “Giedi Prime is a desolate place, my lady. Color and beauty do not survive under their black sun.” He is wrong. Beauty raised under that sun stands beside him. “You would be at place in Caladan. The sunset would envy your beauty.” That has nothing to do with what you had asked.

“I had not realized you were a poet,” Feyd-Rautha taunts and a smile nearly bends your lips.

“How could one not be in the presence of such a divine creature?”

“You are too kind.” You step away from him, wishing he’d have kept his distance. Had his stares not been enough? Would he not get the opportunity to humiliate you once again in a few hours? “If you’ll excuse me.” That’s all you leave them with. You can bear him no longer.

Fandral keeps a better eye on you. You’re barely down a flight of stairs before he is at your side. It’s a silent return to the castle. He has something to say, you see it in the way his mouth twitches every so often as he sits across from you in the vehicle, but he lets you enjoy the peace for a bit longer.

You have no choice in your evening attire. A dress that’s a sister to the ones the other women will wear. Makeup that will be seen from afar. It’s the only thing you don’t mind for the performance.

Despite your early departure, you’re late to the small room off the Great Hall. Fandral doesn’t question the delay. You suspect he knows the reason well enough now. Disapproval colors his cheeks. 

Your tardiness is unnecessary. Paul has not arrived yet. Still, the swordmaster reprimands you for it. You tune it out until you’re free. It’s a small comfort to see the woman with your swords again. She offers encouragement with them before retreating with the others. Enviously you watch. How you wish Irulan were here with you.

Paul arrives only minutes before your set to perform. He doesn’t receive the same scolding you had. He only has time to don his own swords while you and the others begin to file out. A small blessing.

You let your eyes unfocus as you step into the crowded hall. It’s better to not see the faces. Or his. Each pluck of a string and swirl of a skirt brings you closer to the end. As the clang echos when your swords meet for the first time, you think of how easy it would be to stab at his skin. The blade is dull, but with enough speed and force it wouldn’t be of much consequence. He didn’t have his shield.  

The thought ends as the sword once more slips out of your hand. His hand locks around yours and pulls. His chest presses against your back in a mockery of an embrace. Your eyes burn as they come back in focus. Or perhaps it’s the green fire in his as they bore into you from above.

The music wans and the applause rises. You try to escape his arms, but he holds firm. It’s a quick dip of his gaze that signals his intent. Your face moves an inch in time for his lips to brush against your cheek. Whistles echo in the deafening noise.

Feyd-Rautha watches from his seat at the head table. He’s too far to make out his face, but he’s impossible to not recognize. The degradation weighs heavy in your throat. A day ago he’d seen you as a worthy opponent. How must he see you now?

You’re freed from the cage of his arms. You bow with the others but do not stay. You cannot soak in the humiliation a moment longer.

Paul calls for you. You do not stop. Your name bounces off the walls of the corridor as you hope he’ll end his pursuit. But he does not allow such a reprieve. A hand grips your upper arm.

“Let me go,” you hiss, trying to pull free. He does not.

“I didn’t mean to upset you.” He rounds on you, confusion written in the lines of his face. “I was caught up in the moment. I’m sorry.” He means it. You do not care. “Return with me, please. It’s your celebration.”

“I cannot. I must return to my room.”

“Please. Irulan wishes to see you.”

Disgust sours your tongue. How poorly his father had raised him. “I am sure the princess would prefer you to return to her alone. She has had enough humiliation tonight, I think.”

His hand falls away. “Humiliation?” 

You scoff. “I understand it may be hard for you to understand, but no woman wants to see her future husband kiss another. Especially not in front of so many people.”

The bastard laughs. When he sees the unimpressed look on your face, he asks, “Have I not made my intentions obvious?” He smiles. “The dance is an old engagement tradition on Caladan.” He chuckles, shakes his head, and adds, “Well a condensed version. The old one was much longer.”

Time. That is what you tell him you need. And it is. To reverse it. To retract the knowledge of his impending proposal. To revoke the invitation extended to the Atreides. To undo his very conception. Time is all you need.

He misunderstands your shock for one of pleasure and allows you to return to your room unaccompanied. Fandral waits by the closed door. "Did you know?"

"The young lord mentioned his desire for a marriage yesterday. He asked I not tell you."

"And since when did you serve House Atreides?"

"It is a good match, my lady. You would be safe under his protection."

You push the door open. "You may return to your normal post, Fandral. I require a personal guard no longer."

Sleep comes only briefly. The wake in the dark, the image of an achromatic silhouette contrasted against the warm hues of sunrise embedded in your vision. You dress quickly and slip through the corridors. The sounds of the party still linger. It's too easy to go unnoticed and begin the hour-long hike. Every step springs forward a new emotion. Frustration. Despair. Disgust. Terror. Fury.

Solace as you hear a rock skitter across the path behind you. You continue on without looking back or calling to him. He knows you know. Nothing more needs to be said yet. You reach the same spot you'd picniced days before in that blissful silence. Only when the sky begins to color does he finally speak. "The sunrise on Geidi Prime is not so colorful."

"Like its people."

He grins that wide, black grin. "Yes, like its people."

The sun begins to crest over the horizon when you guide him to the canoe still tied to the end of the dock. He does not question as the oars break through the still surface. Even as the overgrown and greying marble pavilion comes into view. He eases the canoe onto the shore and gives his hand to help you disembark. How wonderful it is to touch him again. How dreadful to let it go again.

“My father had this built for my mother when they married.” You take the steps up the once grand gift. “He was so infatuated with her in the beginning. At least that’s what she told me.” You rest your hands against the railings and stare over the water. The marble is cool and coated with a layer of damp. “And then she gave birth to me.”

His warmth soaks into your back, hands resting on the rails beside yours. “He’d been promised a son.”

“One who would marry the emperor’s first born daughter and one day ascend the throne.”

His breath fans across your ear. “Your father was displeased.”

“He drove my mother to try again and again. But nothing. It drove her into madness. Tied rocks to her feet and walked into the water.” She hadn’t tied them well. They found her floating only a day after she went missing. “All for nothing. My father is the one incapable. All he has and will ever have is me.”

“More than he deserves.”

You turn in the small space he’s left between him and the railing. There is no more than an inch that separates your chests. The warmth of the sun makes you sweat. Or perhaps that is from his closeness. It would be a simple thing. A small tilt of your head, a gentle push forward. Lips pressing together. Your heart skips at the thought. The wind rustles through the leaves of the trees and breaks the trance.

"Paul Atriedes is going to ask for my hand."

"And it displeases you."

"Has he not taken enough? And now he wants to tie me to him for the remainder of my days? To submit to him and birth his own heir? How could that not displease me?"

"Deny him."

"My father will not allow that."

"Perhaps we needn’t worry what your father thinks. He enjoys his drink, yes? It is rather miraculous he has not had an accident yet."

Your smile, bright and wide, reflects on his face. How easy he is to manipulate. You hadn’t needed to suggest anything, the violence embedded in his blood coming to the conclusion on its own. “He does indeed. I fear his luck may not last much longer.”

your thoughts & reblogs are appreciated! 💕

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[autisticshadowthehedgehog]

The original meaning of the term "Final Girl," from 1987's "Her Body, Himself: Gender in the Slasher Film" by Carol J. Clover, was "a woman who is a sole survivor of a group who are chased by the villain, and who gets the final confrontation with said villain [whether she wins or not is not considered] because of some implied moral superiority." As an example, Jamie Lee Curtis's character of Laurie Strode in 1978's Halloween is the sole survivor of the teenagers that Michael Myers hunts, and gets the climactic scene with him, though she's not the one who defeats him. Her character is the only one of her friend group who does not (onscreen at least) partake in drugs, alcohol or sexual activity.

The term "final girl" has expanded over the years, often losing the moral superiority clause (see: Sidney Prescott in Scream, Maxine in X) or having other survivor(s) so long as the girl gets the final confrontation (the sisters in the recent Scream movies, Dana Polk in Cabin in the Woods). The most common deviation is losing the moral superiority clause, with the characters either being just as moral as their group or even being morally in the wrong but still surviving as a subversion or deconstruction of the trope. A common addition is a prior connection to the villain, though this is not necessary.

With all that being said,

As always, Girl is a gender-neutral term when it comes to having fun. I decided not to count Knuckles because we don't know his full backstory in-game and the word-of-god answer is that his species died of disease, and also because he'd be the funny answer everyone would pick immediately so that doesn't count guys.

Important Notes to Consider:

Tikal:

Last Survivor: Somewhat. Other echidnas seem to have survived Chaos's attack, but Tikal was the last character alive shown onscreen, and the only other named characters in her time period did not survive.

Final Confrontation: Applies. She is the one to seal Chaos into the Master Emerald.

Moral Superiority: Applies. She's the only one in her tribe willing to stand up to her warmongering dad.

Shadow:

Last Survivor: Applies. While some people seem to have escaped the ARK massacre (like the Commander), all other named characters are either killed or captured and killed afterwards.

Final Confrontation: Debatable. There isn't actually a singular monster attacking the ARK, instead it's the entire military. Shadow however does get a confrontation with the Biolizard and later with Black Doom. Do they count for this though? You decide.

Moral Superiority: Not Applicable. Shadow isn't inherently morally above or below the other people on the ARK who died.

Cosmo:

Last Survivor: Mostly Applies. She is the last survivor specifically of her species. Everyone else in the Sonic Crew survives to the final confrontation, but her species is toast.

Final Confrontation: Applies. Cosmo is the last to interact with Dark Oak in the initial genocide, and the one to eventually defeat him (along with Tails, but really it was Cosmo's sacrifice that actually killed him).

Moral Superiority: Not Applicable. The rest of her species are portrayed as innocent and undeserving of their fate, and her survival was purely due to her fear making her accept a deal with Dark Oak and the implication that he's her father.

Silver:

Last Survivor: Mostly Applies. He and Blaze are the only seen survivors of Iblis's assault. Blaze absorbs Iblis and dips, but Silver does have a fight with Solaris in the final ending.

Final Confrontation: Somewhat. Blaze and Silver both boss fight Iblis, and Blaze gets the final confrontation and defeat. However, Silver partakes in the defeat of Solaris, who technically is Iblis.

Moral Superiority: Not Applicable. Silver isn't given moral superiority towards anyone who dies.

Sonic Forces Avatar:

Last Survivor: Somewhat. Avatar is the last survivor of their village due to them fleeing from Infinite. They join up with a group following this and assist Sonic in defeating Infinite.

Final Confrontation: Somewhat. Sonic is also there.

Moral Superiority: Debatable. Like Cosmo, the other civilians are portrayed as innocent and Avatar only escapes due to their perceived cowardice. They are shown to be Extra Special Besties with Sonic which helps them defeat Infinite through the power of Love, so that may count?

Whisper:

Last Survivor: Mostly Applies. Whisper is the last Diamond Cutter after Mimic kills her entire squad and betrays them. She goes solo until eventually confronting Mimic and then helping found a reformed Diamond Cutters.

Final Confrontation: Debatable. Mimic is still an active threat in the comics, but Whisper did get a climactic confrontation with him in Tangle & Whisper.

Moral Superiority: Not Applicable. Whisper only survived because Claire requested she stay behind due to her intuition.

Sonic in '06 specifically:

Last Survivor: Mostly Applies. Sonic is the only character who remembers that the '06 timeline occurred, making him the technical only survivor of its events. Ignore the fact he died at one point, he got better.

Final Confrontation: Mostly Applies. Sonic leads the attack against Solaris in the Final Boss fight, but Elise is the one to blow out the candle and reset the timeline.

Moral Superiority: Debatable. All the other characters are "heroes" but Sonic is the Biggest Best Hero Of Them All That The Chaos Emeralds Love Soooo Much, and he also is the one to selflessly insist on the timeline reset so that the whole Solaris Destruction Thing never happens.

[milksuu]

❝ 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 ❞ ─── ☾⏺☽

phase O.1 // phase O.2

pairing: yandere!aphelios x solari!priestess!reader (LoL)

tw: non/con, fem!reader, oral sex (f. receiving), possessive/obsessive behavior, somnophilia, object insertion, blood/violence, unhealthy coping mechanisms, kidnapping/imprisonment, implied forced relationship, unbalanced power dynamic, enemies to lovers vibe

notes: here it is besties. thank you all for being so patient with me. and thank you to all the lovelies who've commented/msgd me asking about it and wanting more. im just so glad to share my unhinged obsessions. i do have plans to make a third part, but again, could be a bit. so sorry ahhh.

You hadn’t realized you were stolen to sleep. Sobbing yourself into the veiled shadows of your mind in the arms of something—someone—so haunting. A damning surrender on your part. It was a miracle you had the pleasure of opening your eyes. When the moon crawler could have offered you death instead.

When your lashes winged wholly, the haze of a night-dark bedroom washed your sight. You breathed in your surroundings. The linen bed sheets beneath your fingertips, a worktable littered with dried herbs and vials, and a vaulted chest for storing valuables. A simple room one would toss a coin for a night at a common tavern. 

With effort, you pulled yourself to your knees. The weight of clothes shifted against your body. Looking down, you pinched the fabric of a clean gown. And when a hair strand fell to your cheek, you caught the faintest scent of lavender and nightshade. Drifting your attention lower, a mild soreness welled between your legs, accounting for last night's debauchery. A reminder of an ache you could never wash away, no matter how much you scrubbed yourself raw. But even scrapping your skin till you bled from bone seemed a better feeling than this.

That thought alone made you pause in your observations and consider the only details that mattered.

Where were you and...

Where was he?

You crawled over to the side of the bed. Pressing your feet against the ground, something like cold iron grazed them. You reached through the dark and secured a dulled paring knife. Your gaze studied an apple not too far away, half peeled from the skin of its flesh. Dropped mid-serving, for whatever the reason was. Knife in hand, you tiptoed to the bedroom door and tried to pry it open. It shuddered against your touch—locked. It seemed the only way to escape was by key, and to your misfortune, you didn’t have to guess who had it in strict keeping.

Drip. Drip. Drip. 

A brush of cold licked across your nape. Turning towards the sound, there was another adjoining room. A washroom, perchance. You tightened your hold on the knife, and willed your bare feet forward, swallowing your thudding heart. You counted each step, pausing when a puddle glistened before the doorway. Dark in color and metallic in aroma, a shiver traced your spine as you stepped over it.

Under the door frame, your sight fell upon him, bare and slumped in a wooden bath. You stood still, not daring to flinch, in case he had his own knife hidden beneath the surface tension. When your presence hadn’t been acknowledged, you padded closer. 

Examining him further, you noticed not a lick of a wound, scrape, or gash on his body. Nothing that would substantiate the splatter of blood you'd passed. Falling onto his face, the faintest shimmer stained the corners of his lips. You would’ve deemed him dead if it weren’t for the labored breaths and shivers of his body.

A saccharine taste of flowers sprang to the tip of your tongue. 

Lowering yourself onto your knees, you brought the knife a near inch to his throat. You hadn’t noticed the slits of his eyes cracked open, branding you the moment you stepped in. Before you could jerk back, his hand leapt from the bath water. You winced when he took your wrist, expecting him to plunge the blade in your direction. Instead, he lulled his head to the side, and guided your hand to press the sharp edge against the skin of his neck.

“This angle is much better, isn’t it?” Aphelios stated rather than asked, his wet hair flowing like liquid night across his features. “You can stare deeply into the eyes of your enemy, and watch that insignificant light fade from them. Then, and only then, do you know they’re truly dead. If that's what you would like to do to me..." you held your breath and felt the blue of his veins beat against the blade. “Now’s your chance.”

Your hands trembled, his mortal essence flowing right at your fingertips. But the mere thought of relishing red-stained hands overwhelmed you with a bout of nausea, weakening your grasp at the hilt. Even if he deserved every bit of suffering, and for you to celebrate his undoing by a dull carving knife, it wasn’t who you were. 

You refused to be anything like him.

“Strange. Not many Burning One’s would hesitate at the offer. It’s no wonder they locked you away in that sunlit temple.” He released your shaking hand and traced the outline of your face. “Far from the shadows they’ve cast down.”

“Don’t patronize me,” you seethed, tugging your chin away from his touch. He leaned back in the basin, his shoulders taut as he fought against a cough. You narrowed your lashes at a string of blood pouring from his lips. “It’s not my place to deliver your punishment, but your trial of judgment will come. It’s already apparent you’re paying for your transgressions. And I’m glad for it.”

Your words were false against your true sensibilities. Feeling foolish for your heart to ache with sympathy for him, a wretched murderer and lech. The wiser part of you screamed when you set aside the knife, took up a washcloth, and wiped at his mouth. A cord in his jaw tightened, and you noted a life-stealing grip at the tub's edge.

A trained reflex to wrap his fingers around your neck. 

Had you been anyone else.

Had you been anyone else, you would’ve been flayed open across the altar. Had you been anyone else, the pathetic knife you threatened him with would be stuck heart deep between your breasts. Had you been anyone else, She would have commanded your sacrifice. 

You banished the unwelcomed thought.

“The water’s freezing. How long have you let yourself sit here?” His lips merely mirrored a fine line at the question. Under your gaze, you watched another invisible ripple tighten the tethers of his muscles. You exhaled on a presumptive thought. “You can’t move. Can you?” 

The black glass of his eyes stared at nothing, and said nothing. Then and there, that cold existence would rather suffer than utter a single word of admittance. 

“Seems you like to keep quiet when it’s convenient for you.” You quipped, wringing out the washcloth with indignation. “No different from a child throwing a tantrum when it suits them. I should leave you here then. Let whatever you catch take you within a week’s time. It would save a lot of others the trouble.”

His face remained a blank sheet of ice, and you interpreted it as an invitation to do as you pleased. He’d given you the choice to take his life, after all. Now you understood he’d meant every word. Perhaps he even intended to pay a compliment. Not a bluff or jab at your softer nature, even after you had foolishly settled to spare him. 

You banished the strange sentiment. Once you had found a way to get him to bed and asleep, you would scrounge the room for a key. Wherever he had chosen to hide it. 

“Golden Sister, avert your light," you asked for pardon under your breath.

You drew up your hand, calling forth a kindle of golden sunlight. It pulsed and radiated with warmth, kissing the tips of your fingers. The glow of it illuminated your company’s features. That face of marble chipped at the corner of his eyes; a crack of unnerving reproach. When you guided your hand towards the pane of his chest, he ruefully shifted away.

You clicked your tongue. “You’ll let me freely cut your throat, but the moment I try to help, you want nothing to do with it. Either you hold still, or I reconsider your offer. Which one is it?”

He responded with a slowed and pained breath. When he leaned back, you pressed a palm to his sternum.

Closing your eyes, you concentrated on the ebb and flow of warm light reaching for him; through him. When you entered, dark shadows ripped and slashed against your magic. Sharper than daggers of ice, piercing hotter than any black flame. Sweat gathered at your temples. Furrowing your brows, you steeled your magic from shattering and concentrated your radiance. Gradually, the thrashing tendrils subdued into undulating wisps that languidly brushed across your presence.

“I can’t heal whatever sickness you’ve caused yourself. It's unfamiliar to me. And even if I could, I wouldn't want to keep you waiting to spend eternity with your false deity," you admitted, withdrawing. “But I should have eased the pain. Enough for you to manage from here and to bed.”

Without a word, and with what little strength he still possessed, he gripped the lip of the tub. You hooked an arm underneath his own, and his legs trembled as he rose from the bathwater. When he dragged his feet from the bath, he banked to catch himself on the wall with his hand. The unexpected sway almost swept your footing away. With luck, he managed to hold himself as you helped him stagger out of the washroom.

When he dropped onto the bed, the weight of him brought you to your knees beside him. You huffed, prying his arm away from the support of your shoulders. He made no effort to force you to lay with him. Thankfully, the soothing effects of your work made him pliable, gifting you a moment of safe assurance. 

Your gaze roamed the softness that rounded his previously sharpened features. His brows rested light above his closed eyes, and his lashes long and airy curtained over the smooth contour of his cheeks. His face once devoid of color now brushed with a stroke of pink from your magic. If you hadn’t been the wiser, you would’ve believed him to be a completely different person. 

Nothing like a weapon now.

You pulled yourself from your careless observations, remembering time was of the essence if you’d hope of escape. Turning away, ghostly fingertips graced the skin of your cheek. Your breath hitched. Drawn back, his black pearls peeked from their bed of lashes. His lips moved, but deft as the words were, you swore it was a mere breath in the night.

‘...thank you.’

Your heart constricted, abandoning you in a space stolen of thought, let alone a reply. To your horror, the squeeze of your chest wasn't entirely unpleasant. Still, you feared to linger on it, knowing it would sooner kill you if you’d let it. You consciously berated yourself to get away—hurry, hurry! But like a silent poison of its own kind, you suddenly felt weak in spirit. And to no one’s fault but of your own. 

You had drained yourself dry by helping him.

Still in his touch, your body sank onto the bed next to him. He traced the contour of your neck, past the dip of your clavicle, down to the arc of your hip bones. Lingering there, he drew lazy circles against the fabric till it hitched at your waist. His fingers slipped beneath, brushing a hand against the bare skin of your waist. You trembled, weathering the cold bite of his touch. No better than prey submitting to a cruel yet ordained circumstance.

“I should have never…” you swallowed, remorse tightening your throat.

His hand paused—watching a glint of wetness stain your eyes—then pulled you in with devastating gentleness. Resting his brow at your breasts, he enveloped you in his arms, and curled himself bare between your legs. Holding you in an embrace that was more delicate than heartbreak, drawing out a shuddering breath from your lips. 

For what seemed like an eternity, you laid there. Feigning death, praying for your eyes to never close again. Hoping to salvage the opportune moment to escape once he let go. But exhaustion was a beast that stalked your side and sank its fangs in the spots where he held you close. Paralyzing all your nerves till they went flak, dragging your body limp in his touch. 

And your waning consciousness along with it.

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

Behind closed eyes, the world was dark. An unfeeling landscape where nothing else existed. A state you could find yourself clinging to for the rest of your days to come. If only you were lucky enough to stay. Like a match to your body, a flame curled and burned beneath your dampening skin. The scorch of it trailing the woods of your body. A fire in your blood snaking lower to feed the smoldering spit simmering in your belly.

You shuddered, twitched and bit softly at the bottom half of your lip. Long, devoted fingers cradled your waist as lips graced the lower parts of your stomach. The careful graze of teeth at your navel sent your eyelids fluttering, where a glaze of lingering sleep clouded your vision. Only after a few blinks did you bid the fog away, and woke to the sight of yourself. 

The hem of your nightgown had been shelved above your swollen breasts, revealing nipples perked and coated wet with saliva. A sheen of sweat glistened like oil from mound to curve, and found the wicked Lunari man responsible for your state laid between your legs.

Your lips quivered, struggling to speak through the feverish qualities burning away at your flesh. You couldn’t even attempt to prop yourself up, let alone drag yourself away. Your body felt heavy and drunk off whatever pleasure it had thirsted for and drank without complaint. 

“What are you…” you started, but your voice was too sticky. Too mumbly. Not even swallowing would help. 

“I had a dream about your sunlight. That small, pleasant piece you shared with me last night.” He took pause, flitting his attention up from below, where his black slits narrowed with shameless intent. “I wondered what it would taste like.”

“N–Not down there,” you pleaded out a half-choked whimper. “It isn’t clean.” 

“Isn’t it, though? Have you considered how you might’ve bathed last night? Wondered who could have done it for you.” He trailed feather-light kisses down your inner thigh, leaving a path of goosebumps in his wake. “Washed your hair. Washed your body. And...” he tempted lower and lower, until the heat of his breaths warmed your folds, making them bloom with ache. "Everything in between.”

“Stop saying things like that. Stop doing things like this,” you said, wanting to speak them as commands. But the crack in your voice watered your tone down to unconsolable weeping. Knowing you had made a terrible mistake. Knowing no amount of your good nature would spare the heat of his mouth from teasing you relentlessly. Knowing you had no control as your cunt dripped itself into a pitiful mess. You tossed your head back and forth, desperate to hide the humiliation of your face in the throws of bedding. 

“Please.” Your chest heaved and shuddered. “Just let me go.” 

"Fated or not, you’ve chosen to stay. First, when you decided not to kill me in my most vulnerable state.” He eased the flat of his tongue over your leaking entrance, dragging it upward to flick your clit. Your hands clasped over your mouth to stifle the degrading noises that dared to leave. “Second, when you helped me to bed and kept it warm with me. And third—”

He plunged the length of his tongue into you, reaching for your center. You cried out through the gaps in your fingers, feeling something clenched deep inside you—and it wasn't his tongue. It was impeccably hard, with a distinct weld, shape and curve. The tip of his tongue swirled and twisted around it, coaxing it to rub along your sensitive ridges on the way out. When it revealed itself at your entrance, he took the object with a bite. A clink of metal between his teeth. With a shuddering gasp, your hips bucked once he slipped it past the squeeze of your hole.

“Even though you held the key inside you this whole time,” he fingered the iron loop and slid it across his tongue. You flushed when he consumed your gaze below. “You waited for me to take it.” 

Your head and heart pounded with blood. When…when did he…?

Before you could object, his mouth reclaimed all your ripe and swollen parts. Graciously kissing, licking, feasting between your legs. Your hips jolted as you squirmed against him. His hands gripped to dimple the softness of your thighs, parting you open like two delicate and succulent halves of a fruit.

Your eyes clenched shut, trying to forge the words that would stop him. But none existed in the pleasurable thickness that drowned your senses, possessing your hips to meet him at each languid lap. Turning your saliva into hot syrup in your mouth. Muddling any conceivable words down to moanful whines, sloppy whimpers, and broken utterances. Completely helpless as every stroke of his tongue made a creamy reduction of your insides, threatening to spill over every edge.

Your nails twisted into the bedsheets, and you broke for breath. “Can’t—n’ more—“ 

The moon devil interpreted your incoherent pleas for mercy as undying praise. Encouraging him to devour you with the passion of a starved man who’d forsaken each meal before you. Listening to a hunger that told him you would be his last, and echoed a fear that it would never be enough.

One last brush of his tongue and he clasped his lips around the bud, suckling on its throbbing plumpness.

A burst of pressure had you coming undone onto his mouth. Wails ripped through the air as your back careened into that awful crescent shape for him. You reached to push him away, but he’d caught your hands before you could lay a finger. You choked out a sob when he tacked your writhing wrists against the bed and continued to worship your taste with his mouth. Savoring every part of your quivers and cries, down to the very last gushing drop induced from your spasms. 

When he had taken his last sip of pleasure, he rose from between your thighs to loom above you.

“You’re exactly as I imagined you would taste.” His voice was a thin whisper on his glistening lips. As if he hadn’t even wanted the walls to hear. A secret only he would ever know, and for you to be the only one he’d share it with. 

He bent forward, panting with an unsatiated appetite against your mouth. “Sweet and warm.”

He took your lips, letting you drink up your arousal. A heavy, generous pour. The dewy tang of yourself flushed your face and neck with color. Your heart raced, gasping for breaths in a blur of moans and kisses. 

Tears of utter shame and frustration dotted your lashes, till they fell over in heaps. Yet, even your tears didn’t go to waste. He traced his tongue over your flushed and burning cheeks, catching every bit like spilled honey. And all you could do was lay there, unable to escape his sensual gilded cage. All the while hating yourself for wanting his mouth all over you—wanting to know how it’d feel claiming every inch of skin.

And hating him all the more for it.

[lively-potter]

— nepenthe ; jjk ; part two

— genre ; age gap, angst, fluff, smut, sheltered oc, ceo jungkook, mafia/gang vibes ( kinda/sorta )

— warnings ; please note that in the beginning, the oc is in an abusive home — and if this triggers you please do not read. the oc is of age but nothing smutty will be happening for a while — but there WILL be smut. A small bit of SA is in this chapter and if it tiggers you, don’t read.

— intro, part one

— 2024 © @LivelyPotter

— find me on Wattpad ; LivelyPotter

— taglist ; @ahgasegotarmy116 @jk97bam

— word count ; 2.2k

***

SOLARIS January 20th, 2024 Charleston, SC

THE NAME SENT TREMBLES OF FEAR DOWN MY SPINE.

"Chairman Jeon?" my words cut off in a whimper at the reminder of the man everyone was frightened of. It was no secret to everyone how influential Chairman or Mister Jeon was and how much power he held by being the Chairman and owner of most of the multi-billion dollar companies in the United States and South Korea; the country he was originally from.

He even owned a Gentlemen's club here, called Ataraxia, in Charleston that Father visits more often than he ought — when the Chairman allows other people in the private club one another month.

I bit down on my lip as more thoughts raced through my brain.

Chairman Jeon wasn't a man even the most courageous of people wanted to cross, and those who did were either found dead...or just disappeared into thin air. He was the kind of man parents threatened their children with when they wanted them to behave. He was the same man Father threatened me with when I wouldn't stop crying after Mama died. Chairman Jeon was the most powerful sort of man Charleston had ever seen. It was also rumored that he had strong ties to the Mafia.

A cold chill passed through me at the thought.

Most of the people who lived here were grateful he barely made appearances, since ninety-five percent of the population of Charleston worked for him.

It had been months since Chairman Jeon had been here – I reckoned he spent most of his time in Korea, where his permanent residence was.

"Go to your room, girl, and remember –" he cut himself off to glare heatedly at me, "this house had better be spotless. I won't have my friends visit a pig stye."

I jerkily nodded and without wasting a moment, I raced away from him and shot to my bedroom. The first thing I did was wrap myself in my blanket and huddle in the corner – it was something I did when I wanted to think clearly.

Picking at the skin on my lip, I hesitantly glanced out the window and sighed. This would be a nerve-wracking week.

A stuffed purple bunny sat on the edge of my bed – a stuffed animal five-year-old me lovingly named; Mr. Carrots – caused me to smile. I shivered slightly underneath my blanket, thanking god I was finally warming up – and snatched the bunny from my bed and snuggled close to its neck.

Mr. Carrots had been with me the majority of my life and he was one of the only pieces of Mama I had left.

He brought me peace and comfort when Mama couldn't. I was anxious for what the next few days would bring but I didn't have any other choice but to just let them play out the way God intended.

*** SOLARIS January 21st, 2024 Charleston, SC

THE NEXT DAY WAS MUCH BRIGHTER THAN THE LAST.

Father had left before I woke up, sniffling with the first signs of a cold. I wrapped myself in one of Father's old sweaters to keep myself warm.

Wrapping my arms around my tummy with a flinch, I knew I better pay attention when it came time for Father to come home. The last thing I needed was for him to catch me wearing his old clothes to keep me warm.

The only thing I had to do before I started taking overthink down and cleaning was to place a new bandaid on the gash on my wrist.

Doing that, quickly, stomach grumbling in hunger, I entered the kitchen with a longing glance out of the tiny window above the kitchen sink.

I had lost count of how many years it had been since I was allowed to go outside the house and explore. I reckoned it had been years. I hardly remembered what kind of places were outside but I did remember how much I loved walking through the woods with Mama, collecting pretty leaves and tiny pincones. I smiled and started to twist the ends of my hip-length hair. I still had those leaves tucked inside the old pages of one of my old storybooks that Mama used to read to me. The little pinecones were stashed inside my little trinket box, along with the little acorns – we only found those when we were lucky.

I carefully grabbed a knife from the drawer, and cut a small apple in half, and nibbled on it as I pulled long hair out of my face with a ribbon and prepared to start cleaning.

I hummed happily under my breath as I picked up the glass, scrapped knees aching but I paid it no mind.

Hours passed by in a blur and I thankfully got the entire house cleaned and dinner and snacks already presented on the table before I declared myself done.

A grin beamed across my lips as I trotted to my bedroom and closed the door behind me. My bare feet padded on the carpet as I neared the small window a foot from the floor and knelt in front of it. My hands cupped my jawline, eyes watching the sun set with a heavy heart. Tears pricked my eyes and I closed them and clasped my hands together in front of my heart and began to speak.

"Dear heavenly Father," I started off, eyes closed and head tilted towards the sky, "I thank for letting me wake up and experience another day on this earth. I thank you for keeping me safe today, and being by my side when no one else is. I ask that you please watch over Mama and let her know that I love her and can't wait to be reunited with her one day." a lone tear dripped down my cheek, "Please, dear Lord, bless me and keep me safe and continue to hold me within your arms. I know that you have a plan for me," I continued, knees shifting.

"God always has a plan, my little Solaris." Mama's voice rang inside my head. "No matter how rough life gets at times, just know that God will always be there for you and after those hard times are over...the rewards are immense and glorious."

"But please, I just want to not be afraid anymore." I sniffled, "I want the pain to stop." the tear slid down my head and dripped onto my clasped hands. "I thank you for hearing my prayer and I hope you'll answer me soon." a small smile crept upon my lips. "I guess that's all for now – oh! And could you please keep me safe tonight and when Chairman Jeon comes back, please? I'm sorry to ask so much of you, but you're the only one besides Mama that loves me and I know that you hear me when I pray...um, Thank you again! In Jesus' name I pray, Amen."

My soul lightened and my heart rate relaxed and then sped up when the noises of the front door opening. A little gasp escaped my lips and I smothered.

Don't be seen or heard, Solaris.

The voices of Father's terrifying friends had me balking in place, arms wrapping around myself to ground my trembling.

With shaky fingers, I peeled Father's sweater off my body and stuffed it underneath my bed — I'd have to sneak inside his room and put it back when he left.

I sat in the corner of my bedroom, knees pulled to my chest, and listened closely to what was happening in the living room.

The house was old and nearly falling apart, which meant the walls were thin. Pressing an ear to the wall, my eyes fluttered closed to focus. But I didn't have to listen long.

"Girl!"

Father's boom made me stand at full attention. I held my hands together to shield the shakiness from them and scurried from the room.

Soon enough, I was standing in front of Father and his friends. Two older men who gave me the creeps.

James and Stevie.

They eyed me like I was a piece of meat when they plopped down on the sofa and stroked along their bulging beer bellies.

My lips trembled, remembering their slimy touches along my legs and biceps the last time they came here.

"Get us beer."

I stood ramrod straight and nodded.

I left the living room without another word and withdrew three bottles of Modelo and opened them. Shockingly being able to juggle them in my arms, I hunched my shoulders and walked slowly back to the living room — heart thundering inside my chest.

When I returned, Father was gone and only James and Stevie were there. Their eyes latched onto me in a second and they exchanged looks.

My eyes glossed over when Stevie ran a hand through his greasy hair and mustache while licking his nearly invisible lips.

"W-Where's Father?" I asked, even hearing the unaltered fear in my croaking voice. I took hesitant steps near them and slowly handed them the beers in my hand.

It was James who answered.

"Bathroom, sweetcheeks."

I only nodded in return, internally cringing at the terrible name.

Slowly sighing in relief, I turned and placed Father's Modelo on the coffee table and stilled when I felt a hand land on my lower back.

Disgust welled in my gut as another hand landed on the exposed skin on the back of my knee and caressed my skin.

"Don't." I stiffened, terror locking my limbs. "Please." I shook my head, turning to face the men. Their faces were held in a lecherous glare as their unfocused eyes glazed over.

Stevie's hand tightened around my knee and tugged as James' hand fell from my lower back.

"Why don' you take a seat?" James asked, fingering a yellow patch on his skin, running a hand on his swollen face — probably due to high cholesterol.

"No thank you." I shook my head and mentally begged Father to come back. I felt black spots dance across my vision in a slow, swift motion.

I felt so faint.

Their touches on my body made me feel disgusted. Dirty.

Even though I hated showers because of my experience with them, all I wanted to do in this moment was go under the scalding spray and wash my skin raw in hopes I'd never remember the feeling of their hands on me. I was so scared.

"I'm tired." I tried to refuse, tugging myself further away from them.

Stevie's eyes sharpened at my blatant disregard of his desires and he locked his limbs, preparing to jump up from his seat.

A tear left my eye in relief as Father stomped into the room, loudly complaining of the PowerPoint slide they had to finish before Chairman Jeon came back.

Tomorrow.

"I swear," Father grunted, plopping down in his recliner and snatching the beer from the table. "Every time that damned man comes back — everyone freaks out."

I slowly started in his direction, body positioning behind his chair. I felt my body relax the tiniest bit being away from those two men.

Stevie took a glance at me before looking at Father, "No shit." He agreed with an eye roll.

"I just don't know what Chairman Jeon just don't stay the fuck in Korea. Where he and that gang of his belongs."

My head was hung towards the ground as I listened closely to them bashing the Chairman. Speaking of how he basically took over Charleston with little to no work.

I didn't know how much of that was true — but I also thought they were just jealous of his success. I was scared of the Chairman, but I can also give credit when credit is due.

"Go to your room, girl, and leave us." Father ordered without looking at me.

I stood at attention and jerkily nodded.

I scurried to my bedroom and locked the door behind me.

In just a few moments, I allowed myself to fall down onto the floor and claw at my skin in hopes that I would scratch away the memories.

Would tomorrow be a better day?

I prayed that it would be.

author's note ; ✨

if you want to be apart of my taglist, just let me know! thank you so much for reading! I appricate every single one of you <3

[phr3ia]

Before It Ends (Jiyan x Fem!Reader) [Chapter 1 : Uncertain]

"General, we need your help over here!"

"General Jiyan, we don't have enough medics here, can we please use your assistance?"

"General, we've received reports of a high number of Tacet Discord anomalies located near the outskirts of Jinzhou, the threat level is lethal-"

It was just one situation after the other, there is no time to rest right now. After demolishing the Tacet Discord creatures near Jinzhou, the General heads back to the rearguard base, where the soldiers approached him with urgency, pressing for his assistance - they are currently low on medical staff, they tell him, therefore his support is needed immediately. Jiyan can't possibly deny the cry of his comrades, he gives a brief nod and purposefully heads over to the tents, where the injured are treated. The soldiers are badly wounded, Jiyan can see that, and guilt clutches his tender heart. His purpose is to protect, to ward off the evil from the innocent, he knows he shouldn't place the blame upon his own shoulders. But sometimes, he can't help it.

Rigorously treating the last soldier's injuries with medicine he made himself, Jiyan is met with words of gratitude and faces of satisfaction from his comrades. "Thank you, General Jiyan, you're a lifesaver!" One says. Hearing people praise him, seeing the look of radiance on other's faces whenever his duty is fulfilled is something Jiyan learned to love. It reminds him of why he still continues to fight. The moon hangs high in Solaris-3's galactic sky, Jiyan's sharp eyes-the colour of daffodils-look amongst the plethora of shimmering stars. 1, 2, 3... too many to count. The stars remind Jiyan of Y/N eyes, the way those orbs beautifully twinkle whenever he speaks to her.

Jiyan ventures off to his private headquarters, it's getting late and his services are no longer necessary. For now. If one were to look closely, they'd see a twinge of weariness in his movements, all of this work is stressing the General out, and he hates to admit he's drained. Jiyan stands before the large window in his room, bathing himself in the pale moonlight's glow. A rhythmic knock at the door catches Jiyan off guard - another problem so soon? "Come in." Jiyan answered with authority, it was evident from his voice how tired he was at the moment.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

You've known each other since your trainee days at the Military Academy. Over time, you grew to be Jiyan's closest comrade due to your bold approach and candid attitude. It was your overall personality that captured his attention.

Even after graduating and being promoted to higher positions, your bond remained the same.

"Jiyan! I brought your favorite food!" you exclaimed as you barged into his quarters, catching him off guard.

He had always adored your cooking skills. From fried foods to ramen, from soup to dessert, Jiyan will always devour everything you cook for him.

His weary demeanor instantly vanishes as soon as he sees you enter the room. His expression brightens, and he can't hide the devious smirk that forms on his lips. "I was wondering when you'd show up!" Jiyan's physique is dominating but not as intimidating as one would expect from a General. In fact, he warmly chuckled when he smelled the delightful aroma emanating from the container you're holding.

Your cooking is something he has missed during these past few weeks of terrible situations.

Jiyan's dangling earrings bounced slightly as he expressed his joy.

You were grinning with excitement as he approached you. He then took the food from your hands and expressed his gratitude. "Thank you! You have no idea how much I was craving for some real food." he said, sighing. As part of the Military, all they eat during their missions are just rations like bread and snacks. "Do you mind if I eat it now? I'm starving." he asked, his stomach grumbling from hunger at the same time.

"Just don't eat everything, okay? It's for the both of us." you said, grabbing the extra empty container from your bag.

"I can't promise you that." he teased. You just sighed at his response and proceeded to take a seat in front of him. "By the way, is everything alright?" You haven't seen Jiyan for weeks now since he was deployed on a clearing mission near Desorock Highlands a month ago. "You know it's a bit difficult for me to visit you whenever you're stationed at the borders. It's too far away from the Capital." you said with a frown as you rested your cheek in the palm of your hand.

He took a moment to gather his thoughts, the weight of responsibility and stress still lingered in his eyes, "I've barely had a chance to rest. Our forces have been stretched thin, trying to repel the Tacet Discords around the area. It's been a constant struggle."

He hesitated, then continued in a low husky tone, "There are so many lives at stake... I sometimes wonder, am I really making a difference? Or do we just keep fighting for an illusion of peace? Seeing so much suffering is overwhelming..."

Jiyan couldn't help but let his guard down in your presence, you have a calming effect on him. As much as he tries to be detached from the emotional aspects of his job, his heart still aches for the fallen and those who suffer.

He then took a deep breath and let out a long sigh, pushing the thoughts aside for now, "But enough about me. What about you, Doctor? Tell me what's been happening in the capital while I was away." His tone shifted to a more lighthearted one, trying to change the subject and show you that despite the weariness, he still enjoys your company. He began to unpack the meal he took from you, the aroma wafting through the air. He was hungry, and in spite of his promise, Jiyan couldn't resist digging in a little bit before serving you a portion of the delicious meal you had prepared.

"It's always the same for me. I treat our soldiers from day to night." Deep inside, you felt a sense of sadness about everything, but you never questioned why you're doing it or who you are doing it for. Yet you also understand why Jiyan thinks that way. You always know that it was never easy for him to witness his soldiers die on the battlefield. You are aware that the situation is taking a toll on him.

"General." I said, grabbing his attention. "No matter what happens, or how bad it seems today, life does go on, and it will be better tomorrow. You don't have to have it all figured out to move forward. Just take the next step. And whenever you find yourself doubting how far you can go, just remember how far you have come. Remember everything you have faced, all the battles you have won, and all the fears you have overcome." You were always there to remind Jiyan of how incredible of a person he is-not just a soldier, but a General that everyone looks up to.

"You're right, Y/N. We all need a push sometimes to continue going. Thank you." He flashed a subtle smile, a genuine one that reached his eyes.

As both of you were eating, Jiyan would occasionally glance at you. You seemed to have this calming effect on him, and he began to feel a bit lighter, as if his burdens were momentarily lifted.

"If only you had accepted my request to join you on the front lines, I could've fought by your side." you muttered under your breath, still feeling irritated that he declined your request to join the Rangers a few years ago.

Jiyan isn't oblivious to the worry that flickers within your eyes. He knew you were looking out for him. "You know that's something I can't grant, Y/N. It's nothing personal. You know as well as I do that you hold value in other ways. Your skills in medicine and healing are irreplaceable. Trust me, if I see you in any danger, I'll have you back as a Medic in a flash. For now, continue doing what you do best. You're one of Jinzhou's finest Doctors." Jiyan finished his food, leaving nothing untouched.

"Whatever you say, General." you rolled your eyes at his response, knowing it's futile to debate with him.

"Stop frowning." he said, flicking your forehead. "Ouch!" you yelped at the stinging sensation it caused. Jiyan smiled at you before turning around to throw the trash away, but you stopped him in his tracks. "Jiyan." you mumbled, grabbing his wrist. He looked at you with a puzzled expression on his face. "Just promise me one thing, okay?" you asked. He could tell that you wanted to discuss this matter sincerely. "Promise me that you will always return home safely. I don't care if I have to heal you over and over again, just please always come back alive."

Jiyan's eyes met yours, noticing the genuine concern that clouded your features. He gently tousled your hair, making it flutter around your face. Without needing to voice it, Jiyan understood that you must have had many sleepless nights, worrying about his well-being.

"I'll do my best." Jiyan replied, aware that he couldn't make a promise as life on the battlefield is always uncertain. "And if something bad happens to me, I trust you completely to mend me back together." Jiyan gently patted your head and smiled at you.

His attention turned to the large window, the moon's light casting shadows on the tall trees that swayed in the breeze. "You should return to the Capital. I don't want you staying up late. You need to get some rest, Y/N."

"Give me a few minutes to get ready. I'll escort you back myself." he offered, not taking no for an answer.

Jiyan leads the way out, his presence as a General was commanding respect even from those passing by. His towering figure exudes an aura of calm and confidence, qualities that you have come to admire.

He mounted the horse with you, your body nestled between his arms. Jiyan made sure you were safe.

As the horses galloped, the quiet ambiance embraced you and him. A gentle breeze filtered through the air, causing the trees to sway lightly. Jiyan's hand slowly inched towards you. He wanted to reach out and hold yours, but he hesitated. Feeling uncertain, Jiyan forced himself to focus on the road ahead.

A traveling shadow of the moonlight played along the streets as the mount carried both of you to the Capital.

As Jiyan's horse halted in front of your home, he looked at you with a hint of sadness in his eyes. "Remember, stay out of trouble, Doctor."

"Don't worry about me, General. I'll be fine." you said, dismounting from the horse-it's been a long day, and you were starting to feel exhausted. "Alright, rest well. Take care of yourself." he said, his voice filled with concern. As Jiyan turned his horse around, he looked back at you one last time before he disappeared into the night.

Midnight was fast approaching as the moonlight filtered the horizon. The bond you have with him grew tighter with every moment you spent together. You knew that in the midst of battles and darkness, you will always have Jiyan by your side.

════•⭐•════

End of Chapter 1 🥀...

Jiyan navigates the delicate balance between his duty as a General and the love he carries for you.

[coveey-s]

solaris

word count: 1.8k

paring: spencer reid x oc (but sorta y/n ish lol)

summary: spencer and ariana go to see a showing of 'solaris' (referenced in season 6 ep 14)

warnings: none?? just fluff lol

i don't really write fanfic this is kinda a one off so mb if this is a bit clunky 🤗🙃

Ariana Striker didn't really watch a lot of Sci-Fi. But ever since joining the BAU about a year ago and befriending a certain Spencer Reid, she knew more than ever before.

She was packing up her things for the night at the office after a case in LA when she noticed him talking on the phone at the desk over.

Ariana heard him mention something called 'Solaris'. What was that? A new planet he'd discovered?

Spencer hung up the phone with an odd look on his face.

"Who were you talking to?" Ariana asked, she couldn't help being curious.

"Emily, I was asking if she wanted to see Solaris in the theater with me, since she and I are the only ones who understand Russian," he answered, putting his phone in his pocket, "But she's busy with Sergio."

Her eyes widened, "Ooh, a new guy?"

"Her cat," Spencer replied, "But I thought the same thing."

"Oh," Ariana laughed, "Anyway, what's Solaris?" she asked.

"It's a Sci-Fi film made in 1972 that follows a psychiatrist sent to investigate the death of a doctor and the mental states of the cosmonauts in a space station orbiting a planet named Solaris." Spencer explained.

"Really? Interesting, a Russian sci fi film." she pondered.

"It's approximately five hours long, it's one of the greatest sci fi mediation films of all time." he added picking up his bag, "Well, bye," he started off.

"Wait," Ariana half laughed.

He stopped and turned raising his eyebrows.

"You didn't ask me about my plans?"

"Oh, what are your plans?" he asked.

"I was planning on eating Ben & Jerry's and watching 21 Jump Street..." she began.

"What's 21 Jump Street?" Spencer asked.

"You've never- you know it doesn't matter, point is the emphasis is on was. "

"What are you doing now?" he rested his hands in his pockets.

Ariana shook her head, "You know what nevermind, it's okay. Enjoy your movie, Reid." she smiled, slipping her coat on.

Spencer frowned, "I have a feeling I'm missing something."

She stepped out from behind her desk and walked towards him, "I was hinting that I could go to the movie with you but it seemed to-" Ariana made a woodshing sound and waved her hand over her head.

"Oh," Spencer said, "You don't understand Russian."

"Y'know for a profiler you seem to be highly confused by my behavior. I'm trying to make a nice gesture, so you don't have to go alone." Ariana motioned vaguely.

"You want to watch a five hour movie in a language you don't understand?"

She had to admit it didn't sound like the most fun, but maybe it could be, with him.

"Why not? I can probably pick up on stuff with the visuals and if you give me a quick explanation of the plot before we start ." Arriana shrugged.

"I can explain on the way," Spencer said enthusiastically.

"Let's go," she replied, patting him on the shoulder.

~~~~~~~

When they arrived she was once again baffled at the way his mind worked, however she doubted if she'd retain all the information she'd heard.

"So what's the probability that there really is a water brain planet out there?" Ariana asked as she grabbed her popcorn.

"I don't think there's an exact probability, but only 0.05 percent of the galaxy has been explored so it's possible." Spencer reasoned.

"Wow, you don't have an exact stat for something?" Ariana teased, popping a piece of popcorn in her mouth.

"I know," Spencer said sadly.

"Popcorn?" she offered, pointing the bucket at him.

He shook his head.

"More for me," Ariana said happily.

The theatre was small and old, it still had the light box lettering on the outside and little red seats on the inside.

They took their seats in the back, despite Spencer's point that the best seats were technically in the middle.

"But back here, you get to see the full screen, and you don't get people hitting you in the back." Ariana remarked.

He seemed to accept that and settled into his seat as the beginning credits began to play.

Ariana pulled off her coat and leaned back. She glanced at Spencer who's brown eyes were trained on the screen.

Just as she looked away she felt his gaze on her. Ariana peered at him through the corner of her eye, and neither of them looked away for a moment. She smiled and he smiled before she focused her attention on the movie, hoping she wasn't blushing like a school girl.

The movie was interesting, but her sleepless nights at the hotel the past few days were finally catching up to her and she was struggling to stay awake.

She was abruptly pulled out of her daze when the movie stopped for an intermission. Thank god, she needed to stretch her legs and wake herself up.

Ariana stood and stretched her arms over her head, "I could do with some fresh air, come on."

Spencer followed after her into the cool night air.

"What do you think of it, the movie?" he asked.

"Good, very Russian." I answered.

He nodded and his mouth fell into that flat line like it always did.

Ariana thought for a moment, "You know what I can do? I'm really good at catching food with my mouth," she clapped her hands together.

Spencer looked at her puzzledly, "What?"

"You know, people throw peanuts or something and people catch them in their mouths?" she threw a piece of popcorn at him.

He watched it fall, "I see,"

"Here," she shoved the popcorn bucket into his arms, "Throw a piece, I'll show you."

"I have terrible aim," Spencer added matter-of-factly.

"Try your best,"

He threw a piece of popcorn in the air and Ariana successfully caught it.

"See," she said between bites.

Spencer laughed a little, "Cool."

"Now, your turn," Ariana took back the bag.

"No, I'm okay," he insisted.

"Just try, I'm gonna keep throwing popcorn at you until you do," Ariana threatened.

Spencer shrugged, "Okay, I'll give it a shot,"

She threw it up and he surprisingly got it, "Wow you're a natural, I've been honing my skills for years." Ariana smiled.

"It's more physics than physical ability, but thank you," he said earnestly.

"No, you're the chosen one." Ariana chuckled.

Spencer did too and they continued throwing popcorn until intermission was over.

Once they returned to their seats Ariana prayed for the strength to stay awake for another two and a half hours.

It didn't work.

Five minutes later, Ariana was out.

Spencer turned to her to see her fast asleep, head half resting on the back of the chair.

He laughed to himself and just watched her for a moment, she really was pretty. But of course that didn't matter. Spencer cleared his throat and shifted his arms against the arm rests.

Approximately fifty five seconds later, Ariana slumped down further, and her head rested against his shoulder.

Spencer's eyes widened, she was still deeply asleep, and her head was on his shoulder. Her head was on his shoulder.

He was never overly touchy, but his team was the exception, often sharing hugs with them. And Ariana, she gave great hugs.

So there was no logical reason as to why her head on his shoulder was distracting him so much. But it was.

He made an active decision to not focus on the warmth of her body against his or the smell of her conditioner, he would miss the movie.

For two hours and twenty eight minutes, Spencer didn't move his left arm, and found it to be quiet numb.

The movie ended and Ariana was still slumbering so Spencer made an attempt to wake her.

"Ariana," he muttered, "Ariana, the movie is done."

She stirred and then opened her eyes a little, squinting at the light. Coming to her senses, Ariana shot up.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to," she motioned to his arm.

"It's okay," he said quietly, flexing his hands, trying to get blood flow back.

"What happened? Is the movie over?" Ariana looked around.

"Yes," he answered.

"Oh, Spencer, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to," she said, rubbing her face, "I'm just a bit sleep deprived."

"Don't be, you got some sleep and I enjoyed the company." Spencer concluded, standing and grabbing his jacket.

"I suppose that's true," Ariana said as they exited the theatre.

"You've got a pretty comfortable shoulder," she added.

"Thank you," he said contently, "You've got a...nice head..." Spencer scratched the back of his head.

She chuckled at him, "Thanks. We should do this again sometime," Ariana proposed.

"There's a showing of Silent Running next week," Spencer replied.

"It's a date." she winked.

Spencer smiled at the ground.

"So," Ariana nudged him, "I gotta know how Solaris ended."

"So," Spencer began.

[ninjamasterbcadef]

Just had a terrifying thought, what if Ordis wasn't being hyperbolic?

In the secret Cephalon fragment recordings Ordis says he's killed enough people to create "a colossal moon of rib and skull". He was probably exaggerating but what if he wasn't?

The mass of the smallest moon in the solar system, Deimos, is roughly 1.5×1015 kg. The average human weighs around 70 kg. Doing the math that's roughly 21 trillion people killed to make this corpse moon.

This is an incredibly large number but honestly isn't entirely impossible.

For starters he wouldn't have had to do this all immediately, people in Warframe live for an incredibly long time. Darvo is 105 and is considered to be a teenager. If we assume Darvo is roughly 18 in our years then it's entirely possible he would've 4 to 5 centuries to complete his genocide rock.

Now about kill counts. During the Solaris United ARG it's stated that the Tenno killed 7 million Corpus in 3 hours. In order to reach 20 trillion corpses in 500 years Ordis would need to double that kill count. It certainly isn't possible for him to do it all personally but given that he was the Commander of a mercenary company distinguished enough to have one of its members offered the kuva it's possible he could've indirectly caused that many deaths with armies, bombs, starvation tactics, and other means.

Since he did this during the Height of the Orokin age which sees the Origin System as severely overpopulated its possible there were this many people around for him to kill.

[agent-calivide]

I don't have anything more than scraps, but for the luvva god I'm gonna figure out something to analyze with Daniel Sans' 3 lines of dialogue and 2 bonus appearances for @lunacornfan2k24 because goddammit this man needs acknowledgement

Slight change up of formula, but because there's so little about him, I'm nitpicking the shit out of every single appearance like a vulture rather than doing broad strokes with occasional references to canon.

So, he appears first in the phone message on Friendly Skies, and honestly I think this one has a lot more to pick apart than you'd get at a first glance.

"Zor, there is an urgent matter that we must discuss. Contact me on a secure line immediately!"

The first thing I notice is how he addresses Zor. Not doctor, not a title of authority. He just calls them Zor. There's something so... innately trusting in that. He's not just another lackey, he's not just a high ranking official, even Solaris who technically outranks him calls them Doctor Zor. There is an innate trust there that is only rivaled by what we see between the Fabricator and Zor, and even then she usually calls them Doctor. Sure, we see other people just casually call Zor that when talking about them like "get Zor on the phone" or something similar, but to immediately jump into the message with "Zor" no title or greeting or anything similar, it shows that Sans has a certain mutual respect with Zor.

This is further confirmed by how he tells Zor to contact him. There's no "at your soonest convenience please get back to me." He demands Zor get back to him, once more showing a certain level of trust. Urgency or not, feeling confident that you can talk to your boss like that shows that there is some form of respect or even trust between you and them. Maybe I'm a wuss, but I could never talk to my managers like that, and they don't have a kill count.

Something else I also find interesting is that he's researching the development of a supervirus. Specifically a supervirus. The phrasing is interesting to me, because that implies that he's not just researching into chemistry, he's looking into biology. You can make a poison out of damn near anything, but to have it specifically be a virus implies infection, something organic. I think this is why they were fronting as a shampoo factory. It's a little thing, but by having their cover be chemistry to support biology, Sans was likely able to get more organic compounds for the supervirus without raising any red flags to support Zoraxis.

The next thing we hear, or rather see, from Daniel Sans is a note he left for Ashley Lincoln, the scientist who's looking into an antivirus.

"ATTN: Dr. Ashley Lincoln It has come to our attention that you are engaging in unauthorized anti-virus research after hours. Management advocates that there are better uses for personal time, such as spending it at home with your family. It would be a shame if something were to happen to theme while you were in the lab working on an unapproved project. Dr Daniel Sans"

This tells us a whole lot about Sans as a person. Firstly, he keeps a tight ship around there, there is a security system, cameras, automated messages, lasers, key card scanners, there's even a fucking sign that basically amounts to a more threatening "Smile, you're on camera" poster. He's shown to be very type A, organized and making safety nets for his safety net's safety nets. That is a ton of security in place, and all of that pays off for Sans in the end, really. He does catch Lincoln and makes it clear in no uncertain terms that what she is doing is unacceptable and if she doesn't stop there will be consequences.

And even if all, all of that fails, there's a plan Z in place: Just launch the virus early. He was able to weaponize Lincoln's own research against her, the virus chute identifies the antivirus as such. Regardless if he did the research on his own or if he found Lincoln's little clues or even found all of her research, he knew to look into the antivirus and have the lab try to identify it as such to prevent anything from being sabotaged. That shows not only intelligence, but amazing foresight frankly.

And once the antivirus is blocked, we learn even more about his character as the prerecorded message plays.

"Found a conscience, despite our threats! Well, I'm afraid you won't have a chance to use your antivirus. We're changing the time table and launching the supervirus... today!"

This goes to show that Sans isn't just working at Zoraxis for a benefit like Solaris or to pursue art like Fabricator and Juniper, he is just evil and revels in it. He calls out that Lincoln "found a conscience" implying that Sans not only does not have one, but unabashedly doesn't give a fuck that he doesn't. He excitedly exclaims "You're too late!" and has an evil laugh. Even more damning, when the automated voice plays a little yellow light flashes above the intercom, but when Sans' recording plays it turns red.

This man had his intercom system flash a red light whenever he made an announcement. Number one, iconic flare for the dramatics, but for two, it just goes to show that he is evil and he prides himself on it. Be it his own interests, his passions, or (what I think it really is) an unwavering loyalty to Zoraxis, he knows that his moral compass is pointing south and he doesn't give a damn either way.

The next reference we see to Sans (and the final one you get in-game) is his nameplate in the base in Madrid. The main thing I want to call attention to is the position Daniel Sans is seated in, directly to Zor's right. It makes this feeling of Sans being Zor's right-hand man, which is supported by all the previous depictions we get of him. Happily being evil, giving Zor a warning the second he found something to be wrong, having no issues with causing harm on a massive scale, blackmailing traitors directly to keep people in line and under Zor's thumb. He is functionally acting like a right-hand in this game, even if he's not the final boss. Save for the Handler, Sans is the one who appears in the most levels in the first IEYTD, even if he has the least lines. He never gets that evil one-to-one moment with the Agent, but he's also everywhere in passing.

The last thing I want to call out is Daniel Sans' interview.

Here, we see Sans really, truly vouching for not just Zoraxis, but Doctor Zor themselves, as well as the whole "People call it "evil", but I call it "misunderstood"" line.

I think this is the most telling piece of information we get on Sans, even if it's not directly in the games. Here, we see him willing to put his neck on the line after a massive scandal, using his full legal name even if he's not disclosing his job title. He's defending Zor and keeping as close to secrecy as he can while still trying to put out the wildfires. We don't hear directly from anyone other than Solaris, not so much as a mention of Hivemind or Caliente or even Ulanova despite the fact Professor X-Ray was mentioned. He is absolutely going up to bat to cover Zoraxis' ass to at least make the corporation not look totally lost, even if he's kind of doing a terrible job at keeping suspicions low. But this article also leads to the real kicker here...

Despite this respect he holds for Zor, this unwavering loyalty, he's... not really that important, and not even in just a lore sense. That sounds really mean- but in the hierarchy of military terms like lieutenant, commander, etc, lieutenant is a really low rank. It's the lowest in most countries, and when you've got commander Solaris right there in the same game it really almost emphasizes it. He's a mid-level employee. He's spearheaded dangerous, deadly projects. He's taken regulating his employees into his own hands. He sat at Zor's right hand side and took malicious joy in the pain that he caused for others, and yet he's just a lieutenant. High enough that he's attached to Zoraxis, but low enough that he doesn't actually have significant authority.

I may be tap-dancing my way into speculation station, but it almost feels insulting to Sans. Like Zor wants him to stay a low rank, only barely above a grunt. Sans has shown himself to think he's got an in with Zor, he's the first one to defend them when given the chance, he's the one who will burn to the ground alongside Zor when every other operative has betrayed them besides Fabricator...

and it doesn't matter.

Zor. Doesn't. Care.

And that's the tragedy of it all. Sans is laying down in mud puddles for someone who will just walk around them without so much as a sideways glance, much less appreciate it.

[aylacavebear]

The Traveler - Chapter 22 - Earth, 1999 & Mechoria

You're from a specific dimension, Solaris Eclipse. It was a dimension of magic. When your kind, the Eldrathiren, turned fifteen, your unique power would awaken within you. Most times, it was something small, levitation, teleportation, creation, elemental manipulation, and things like that. Once in a while, a fifteen-year-old would just disappear, and those were called Travelers. None of them had ever returned. Your parents had told you stories about them, and you hoped that wouldn't happen to you.

Please don't take my work. I'll post warnings for each chapter. Will probably be 18+ I haven't decided yet!

Word Count: 6483

Pairing Eventually Dean Winchester x OC Reader/You & Sam Winchester x OC Reader/You

Warnings: Longing, Emotional Situations.

----------------------------------------- Chapter 22 - Earth, 1999 & Mechoria

Earth, 4 Days After You Left…

The motel room was dark, as it was past midnight, and there was no traffic outside. The pale glow from a lone streetlamp outside barely filtered through the thin curtains, casting faint shadows on the walls. Dean was staring at the ceiling, attempting to sleep, but the bed felt so empty without you there. Everything felt empty without you there. Sam wasn’t sleeping either. He was staring at the wall while their father was passed out for the night. 

Thanks to you and the information you’d given them, Azazel was dead, but without you with them, they saw no point in celebrating. Their mom had been avenged, and so many future events had been stopped—not all of them, but many of them.

“You asleep?” Sam asked quietly, still staring at the far wall.

“No,” Dean replied with a sigh.

“This sucks,” Sam mumbled, his voice laced with frustration and sorrow.

Even though Dean was the only one who felt that soul connection to you, Sam had grown close to you when you were there and missed you just as much. They both wondered the same thing: When would you come back?

“I dreamt about her last night,” Sam said quietly, almost feeling like it was silly.

Dean turned to look over at him, the concern evident in his eyes. “What about?” “You’ll think it’s stupid,” he mumbled.

“Try me,” Dean told him, sitting up on the edge of his bed, his tone gentle yet insistent.

With a sigh, Sam sat up on the edge of his bed, now facing his brother. “She was in this weird place. There was a cat that talked and floated. Oh, and a mouse and a hare that could talk to. They were almost like people. And there was this really tall guy that wore a tophat. They were having tea outside at a long table,” he explained, waiting for his brother to tease him about it.

Dean thought for a moment, trying to picture it all in his head. He couldn’t help but chuckle a little at the thought of it. “If that’s really what she’s doing, then maybe she’s at least safe,” he finally replied, a soft smile forming on his lips.

In a way, that brought them both a sense of relief and also comfort. Neither were sure if that’s what you were doing, but it was something they could hold onto.

“Hey, tell me if you dream about her again,” Dean asked, letting thoughts of you drift through his mind.

“Alright,” Sam replied with a soft smile as he thought of you.

They each lay down, letting thoughts of you fill their minds as they finally drifted off to sleep. Even with as much as they missed you, somehow, Sam dreaming about you brought a sense of reassurance that you were okay. 

2 Weeks After You Left…

Sam had shared the couple of dreams he had of you with only Dean. Neither were sure they wanted John to know. The last thing they wanted was for him to think it was some strange supernatural thing to stop. At least the brothers had stopped moping around, though, and that had relieved John, as he’d been worried about the two since you left.

“Have you found anything yet?” John asked Bobby over the phone while he stood outside the motel room. The early morning light cast long shadows across the cracked pavement, the air cool with a hint of dew.

“Sorry, John. It’s not like there’s a lot on dimensional travel, let alone her home world,” Bobby sighed, taking another drink of his whiskey. His cluttered desk was piled high with old, dusty books, the smell of aged paper and ink filling his study.

“Keep looking and call me the minute you have something,” John told him, his frustration palpable as he hung up the phone.

He looked at his boys through the motel window. They were talking, and for once, both of them were smiling. John wasn’t sure what had changed but was thankful for whatever it was. Bobby had been pouring through books and talking to every hunter he could think of who might have an idea about dimensional travel.

They had all agreed to keep hunting, for now, even though Dean had let his mind wander numerous times about having a normal life with you and his brother. Sam had even thought about it, wanting to go to college so he could support a normal life with you. Both brothers looked up the moment John came back into the motel room.

“You two ready?” John asked them, grabbing his bag off the table. The smell of stale coffee lingered in the air, mingling with the scent of their worn leather jackets.

The two reluctantly grabbed their bags and followed John out of the motel, heading out to take care of the things that went bump in the night.

—---------

Bobby hadn’t found much of anything in his books, the ones he’d gone through, at least. He had kept your spear safe, leaning against the wall in his living room as a constant reminder of you. It helped keep him focused, even when cases came up and other hunters needed help. He also couldn’t get that glowing orb out of his head and had sworn he’d seen it somewhere in a random book he had yet to find.

He had figured out that the writing on your dagger was Enochian, the language of the angels. Without your dagger in front of him, though, he couldn’t translate it and cursed under his breath for not taking a picture. Bobby did put that particular book in a small stack that he’d reserved for just information that had to do with you.

Something Bobby had done was get the information out to as many hunters as he could of the things you shared with the Winchesters. It was more than a game changer for them, giving them the upper hand, at least against demons. 

His phone rang, breaking his concentration. He sighed, taking a deep breath before answering. “Bobby Singer.”

“Bobby, it’s Rufus. Got some new leads on that dimensional travel stuff. Might wanna check it out,” the gruff voice on the other end said.

Bobby and Rufus didn’t typically get along, let alone work together, at least not anymore. If it hadn’t been for how he felt about the Winchester brothers and you, he never would have even involved Rufus. Bobby’s eyes lit up with a glimmer of hope, though. “Send me everything you’ve got,” he replied, hanging up the phone with renewed determination. He glanced at your spear, then at the small stack of books, feeling a surge of motivation.

“We’ll figure it out, kid,” he spoke aloud with a small smile.

—------------

Back on Mechoria, 1 Month Later…

2 Months After You Left Earth.

It was near dawn, and again, you hadn’t slept well. The days had grown colder with the approaching winter, the crisp air kept at bay by the closed window of your room. With a groan, you finally climbed out of bed and sat at the desk, looking up at the calendar you’d hung on the wall. The soft light of dawn filtered through the curtains, casting a pale glow on the room.

It’s November on Earth.

The months weren’t labeled the same, but you remembered the numbers and what they were called, so you had written those on the calendar here. You’d also circled the brothers’ birthdays and your own. You had crossed off the days as they passed, each one a painful reminder of the time passing without them. Looks like it’s gonna be another long and boring day.

On days like this, you didn’t typically leave your room, too tired to deal with others. To you, it wasn’t fair that the scent hadn’t come and whisked you away and back to Earth to see them again. You’d helped this world, and now, felt like you were stuck there. It was one thing when you had deliberately ignored the scent in the Twilight Veil and stayed with Lysara for a year. 

The room was comfortably furnished, but its luxury had long since lost its charm. The silken sheets of your bed were tangled from restless nights, and the ornate mirror above the fireplace reflected your weary expression. You glanced at the pile of books and the journal on the desk; the latter filled with your thoughts and experiences of this world.

With a sigh, you ran your fingers through your hair, your ears twitching slightly at the sound of footsteps outside your door. The innkeeper, Fenwick, must be making his rounds, ensuring everyone was comfortable. Despite his gruff exterior, you’d come to appreciate his quiet gestures of kindness.

Suddenly, there was a soft knock on your door. You hesitated for a moment before getting up to answer it.

Fenwick stood there, his large, bushy tail flicking behind him. His rugged face softened as he saw you. “Good morning,” he said in his deep, gravelly voice. “I noticed you didn’t come down for breakfast. Thought you might want something to eat."

“Thanks, Fenwick,” you replied, managing a small smile. “I’m just… having one of those days.” He nodded understandingly and handed you a tray with eggs, a form of bacon, a form of hashbrowns, and two slices of toast. “Take your time. If you need anything, just let me know.”

As you closed the door and sat back at your desk, you couldn’t help but feel a pang of homesickness. The warm comfort of the meal reminded you of the meals you shared with the Winchesters and how Dean had cooked for you. You took a deep breath, trying to push the loneliness aside as you picked up your journal and began to write, hoping it would ease the ache in your heart and soul.

—-----------

Earth, 2 Months After You Left…

That email from Rufus had contained valuable information, but Bobby hadn’t said anything to the Winchesters about it. No, he wanted to investigate it first. The last thing he wanted to do was give the brothers or John any false hope about not only bringing you back but being able to find a way to tether you to Earth. He was trying his hardest not to get his hopes up, but if this particular artifact existed and did what it was rumored to do, they might have found what they needed. It was rare and something he’d never heard of, a Dimensional Compas. The rumor surrounding it was that it had the ability to not only make portals to other worlds but also open the one the user intended or thought about. 

It took a week to piece together where it was located, and he had to talk to several other hunters just to try to figure out the vague clues. Bobby sat at his cluttered desk, a glass of whiskey left forgotten near the far side, as he stared at the old, dusty journal. He carefully opened it, as the pages were brittle, threatening to crumble under his fingers. It was a hunter's journal from a time long ago. 

The Dimensional Compass, as described in the journal, appeared to be an ordinary old compass. The journal included a drawing of it, so Bobby could only take in the hunter’s drawing and notes. According to those, it looked normal, except for the back of it. It had unique features: a small circular indent at its center, and around the back, there were numerous indents, which looked as though different things snapped onto or into it. The other notes within the journal stated that the hunter who wrote them had never used the compass, as he could never find what went into the back of it.

Bobby sighed as he leaned back in his chair. At least there was a location of the compass: New Haven, Connecticut. The journal had referred to a crypt there, an ancient tomb hidden beneath an old, abandoned church. It was said to be the final resting place of a powerful witch who had guarded the compass for centuries. He packed his bag, ensuring he had everything he needed, then made the long drive, still without sharing a word of this with the Winchesters.

The old church stood on the outskirts of New Haven, its once grand facade now crumbling with decay. The tall, gothic spires reached toward the sky, casting long shadows on the ground below. The air was thick with the scent of moss and earth, and the only sound was the rustling of leaves in the wind.

Bobby approached the church cautiously, his flashlight cutting through the darkness. He pushed open the heavy wooden doors, which creaked loudly in protest. Inside, the church was eerily silent, the pews covered in a thick layer of dust. Cobwebs draped from the rafters like ghostly shrouds. 

At the far end of the church, behind the altar, Bobby found a hidden staircase leading down into the crypt. The stone steps were cold and uneven, and the air grew colder as he descended. His breath came out in frosty puffs as he reached the bottom, where a massive stone door barred his way.

With a grunt, Bobby pushed the door open, revealing the crypt. The walls were lined with ancient carvings and runes etched into the stone. At the center of the crypt stood a stone pedestal, and atop it, the Dimensional Compass.

Bobby approached the pedestal slowly, his heart pounding in his chest. He reached out and picked up the compass, seeing that it was larger than the journal had mentioned. Feeling its weight in his hand, he thought perhaps it might have been nearly two pounds. He ran his thumb over the back, still wondering what fit into it. Its glass covering was gone, probably having been broken decades ago or longer.

“Gotcha,” Bobby muttered to himself, a small smile tugging at his lips. He slipped the compass into his bag and turned his attention to the crypt itself, 

He took numerous photos of the engravings, meticulously documenting the ancient carvings and runes. He searched every nook and cranny, even examining the indents in the walls that held a few skeletons. Despite his thorough inspection, there wasn’t much to go on - nothing notable to indicate which one might be the witch who had guarded the compass. He extended his search to the church above but found no additional information regarding the crypt below. 

During his drive back home, his thoughts were on you, the Winchesters, and how they were going to bring you home. His mind also raced with ideas on figuring out how this compass worked.

—----------------

Mechoria, 3 Months After You Left…

It was another early morning, the light of dawn peaking through the thin slit in the curtains, gently pulling you from your dreams. With a yawn and a stretch, you slowly opened your eyes and sighed. At least Fenwick kept the inn warm these days.

You pushed the blankets aside and climbed out of bed to open the curtains and greet the day. The scent still hadn’t come to beckon you to continue your journey or go back to the brothers. So, even though you missed them, you had decided you’d make the best of being in this world. Today you had been asked to help Arina in her shop. She could have done the work herself, but the two of you had become friends over the last month.

The council had made sure all your expenses were taken care of, and you wanted for nothing. That had felt the strangest. You knew it was their way of thanking you for what you’d done, but you didn’t like feeling like you were taking advantage of their hospitality. You also still hadn’t unpacked your things, still hoping the scent would come for you.

After a nice warm breakfast, you bundled up and headed to Arina’s shop. Everyone in the city greeted you with warm “Hello”s and “Good morning”s. So you returned those with a friendly smile and wave. Snow had already fallen in this world, but magic kept it from accumulating on the inside the city. It was dotted along rooftops, but along the streets, there was none.

“How have you been?” Arina asked when she stepped back from the warm hug.

You gave her a small smile, “I still miss them, but I’m doing better these days. Thanks for the beanie. It was chilly this morning.” Arina chuckled at your endearing compliment. “Well, can’t have our city’s savior getting frostbite on her ears now, can we?” she teased you playfully before showing you into the back of her shop.

It was a sight to behold. Cloth in all sorts of colors and textures were neatly organized on two of the four walls. Ribbons, thread, and lace were along another wall, with containers filled with odds and ends like zippers, buttons, and a slew of other items. Bookshelves adorned the last wall, full of patterns for anything that could be made out of cloth for all sorts of different types of species. 

In the center of the massive room was a table for her to work on with a grid pattern, a beautiful sewing machine, and drawers all along it, just under the lip. You guessed they were filled with things she was into often. Near the back door, you noticed several decent-sized boxes that hadn’t even been opened yet.

“Wow, Arina, this is amazing,” you told her in awe. This was your first time in her backroom, and you could understand why her shop was one of the best in the city, and her prices were always so fair.

“Thanks. Typically, I’d take care of this myself, but I thought it would give you an excuse to get out of your fancy room,” she teased you playfully as she began opening one of the boxes.

Her tease made you chuckle as you joined her, curious as to what was in the boxes. “Is it more stuff for back here?” you asked her curiously.

“Yup. I just need to get it put away. This box has new fabrics in it from a cloth weaver in another town. I love to get things from him and his family. They’re always beautiful, with the softest of textures and the most beautiful patterns you’ve ever seen. They made the fabric your dress was crafted out of,” she explained just before she pulled open the top box.

Inside the box, you saw a rainbow of fabrics, each one more vibrant and intricate than the last. The weaver’s craftsmanship was evident in every piece, with patterns that seemed to dance and shimmer as you moved the cloth into the light.

As you and Arina began to sort and store the new arrivals, you felt a sense of contentment wash over you. This place had become a sort of sanctuary for you, a temporary home while you waited for the scent to guide you either back to the brothers or whisk you off to another world entirely.

“Does it bother you, that you haven’t been able to go back to them yet?” Arina asked softly as she folded a piece of deep green silk.

“Sometimes,” you admitted. “But until then, I’m glad I have someone like you to hang out with and help.”

Arina smiled warmly at you, “We’re glad to have you here. You saved all of us, and I don’t just mean us sentient creatures. You also brought hope back to the young ones with your story of the Luminous.” Her words almost made you tear up, but you gave her a soft smile as a warmth came to your heart. As you continued to work, you couldn’t help but wonder what the brothers were doing at that moment and hoped they were holding on, just as you were.

After you helped her get everything put away, she pulled something small out of one of the drawers under her table. “I want you to have this. For a long time, I wore it like a good luck charm. I found the pendant when I was a child and kept it.” she told you, holding out a necklace with a small pendant on it, only a couple of inches across.

You gently took it from her, letting your fingers move over the small gear for a moment before looking back up at her. “Thank you, Arina. I’ll hold onto this, always.”

—----------------------

Earth, 4 Months After You Left…

Bobby had at least called John, but there wasn’t much he could tell him. He couldn’t piece together what made the compass work and didn’t want to disappoint the brothers with another dead end. So, he put the Dimensional Compass in his safe for now, at least until he could either learn more about it or find a way to make it work.

Sam shared his dreams of you with Dean when they happened. He’d dreamt of you in that luxurious inn, and how you were writing in two journals. He had never been able to read what you wrote, though. There were times Dean felt what you were going through, although it was diminished, dull, and like it was far away. Since Sam had been sharing his dreams, Dean shared what he felt from you.

Both John and Bobby were conflicted. They wanted to share with the brothers what they’d found, but they had nothing concrete to share. Bobby sat at his desk, staring at the old compass in front of him, again, like he could somehow will it to tell him its secrets. He had gone over every detail he could find about it, trying to unlock its secrets. But it remained stubbornly silent, giving him no clues.

The front door opening pulled Bobby from his thoughts, causing him to quickly stash the compass in a drawer of his desk. 

“Hey, Bobby, hope you’re up for some company,” John hollered as he slipped off his jacket and hung it near the door, the brothers doing the same.

“Thought you were gonna be gone another week,” Bobby replied, a bit confused as to why they were there early.

The three of them headed into the living room, all finding a place to sit. They were exhausted and needed some downtime. 

John slumped back onto the couch, letting out a sigh of contentment as he finally began relaxing. “Took out the last of Azazel’s foot soldiers hell-bent on the apocalypse.”

Dean leaned back in his chair, his eyes heavy with weariness but his mind still sharp. “It was a mess, but we managed to clear them out. Thought we’d swing by and see how you’re holding up, maybe check on that lead you mentioned.” Bobby hesitated for a moment, glancing towards the drawer where the compass was hidden. “Not much to tell. Still don’t have anything concrete for you.” The brothers shared a knowing look. Sam, though, decided to push just a little. “It’s okay if you don’t have anything concrete. Maybe a fresh set of eyes might help,” he suggested.

This time, John and Bobby shared a silent conversation, both worried about getting the brothers' hopes up. With a heavy sigh, though, Bobby pulled the compass out of the drawer he’d hidden it in. Then, he set it on his desk.

“Took me two weeks just to piece all the clues together in order to find its location. The thing doesn’t even point to North,” he sighed, looking up at the brothers. 

“Can I take a look at it?” Sam asked quizzically.

“Sure, kid, knock yourself out,” Bobby practically chuckled as he handed the compass to Sam.

Bobby proceeded to explain the information he’d gathered on the Dimensional Compass and what its purpose was. Dean was just staring intently at it in Sam’s hands. Sam flipped it over and ran a finger over the different indents that marked the back of it.

“Seems like it’s missing pieces,” Sam mused quietly, more to himself than anyone in specific.

“That’s the obvious part. I haven’t found a single piece of information that says what fits into those indents,” Bobby sighed.

“We didn’t want to give you boys any false hopes,” John piped in from the couch.

Dean’s gaze was still glued to the compass, almost as if he was drawn to it. “Hey, Sammy, lemme see that.” 

Sam looked up, a bit puzzled, but handed the compass to his brother. Oddly enough, the needle on the top of it moved. “Is it supposed to do that?” Dean asked, now looking just as puzzled as Sam had at Dean’s request.

Bobby’s eyes widened slightly. “Not that I’ve seen. What the hell did you do?” Dean frowned, turning the compass over in his hands. “Nothing. I just… took it.” The needle continued to move, twitching slightly as if it were trying to align itself with something. Dean glanced at Bobby, then back at the compass, a mix of hope and confusion on his face. “Do you think it’s reacting to me? Or… something I’m thinking about?” John stood up, a look of determination crossing his face. “This could be the lead we’ve been waiting for. If it’s reacting to you, Dean, maybe you’re the key to making it work.” Sam leaned forward, watching the compass intently. “Maybe it’s not just about the physical pieces we’re missing. What if it’s also about the person using it? Plus, there’s that whole soulmate thing… Dean’s over eighteen, so he feels the connection.”

Bobby nodded slowly, his mind racing with possibilities. “It’s worth a shot. But we need to be careful. We don’t know what kind of power this thing holds or where it might lead you.”

Dean took a shaky breath, his fingers twitching as he placed the compass back on Bobby’s desk. Every instinct told him to go to you, to bring you back somehow, but the fear of the unknown, of getting stuck or worse, gnawed at him. “For now, I’d rather not touch that thing, not till we know more,” he said, his voice barely steady.

John was proud of his son, and for once, it showed in his expression. “We do this smart and as a team.” They all agreed, a silent pact to unravel the mystery of the Dimensional Compass together. What Dean hadn’t told any of them, though, was that he’d seen you when he held onto that compass. You were sitting in a beautiful room that almost reminded him of a five-star hotel, at a desk, a small box labeled, ‘Happy Birthday, Dean’ in front of you. You looked lost in thought, almost sad, and older, more mature, in the four months since you’d been gone. The urge to reach out, to pull you into his arms, was overwhelming. But the fear, the sudden shock of that vision, had driven him to put the compass down, and with it, you faded from sight.

—-------------

Earth 5 Months After You Left…

“It’s her birthday. You think she feels any different?” Sam’s voice was soft, almost tentative, as he glanced over at Dean.

Dean didn’t immediately respond, his focus locked on the sketch he’d made of the compass’s back. The lines of indents he’d drawn seemed to mock him with incompleteness. “I don’t know. I felt kinda different when I turned eighteen, but it wasn’t until I saw her again that it seemed to get stronger,”

The compass sat on the desk between them, untouched since that first, unnerving vision. Dean’s hands iched to pick it up again, to see you, even if just for a moment. But the fear of the unknown- of getting trapped in some other dimension, away from you- was stronger.

He’d spent hours studying the compass, trying to piece together the puzzle of its missing half. But tonight, all he could think about was you. It was late, the kind of quiet that made everything feel more intense. Neither of them had managed to sleep, not with it being your birthday.

Dean’s gaze drifted to the window, his thoughts heavy. “Wherever she is, I hope she’s okay,” he murmured, the weight of the words lingering in the air between them.

Sam’s expression saddened as he returned his focus to the old hunter’s journal, the one that spoke of the compass in the first place. He hadn’t dreamt of you in nearly two weeks. He was typically good at puzzles, always able to see how things slotted together, but this compass had him stumped, which only frustrated him. 

Your spear still stood there in the living room, leaning against the far wall, a constant reminder to them of the last time you had been there. The picture Sam had taken of you stayed tucked safely away in Dean’s wallet, which he would look at often. It brought him momentary comfort, but he still missed you, and it never took away that ache he felt in his chest.

A sudden knock at the door pulled both brothers from their thoughts. Bobby, already in the living room with them, glanced at the door with a frown. “Who the hell could that be at this hour?” Before anyone could answer, the door creaked open, revealing Rufus Turner standing in the doorway, looking as if he’d just walked through hell itself. His clothes were dusted with dirt, and there was a weariness in his eyes that hinted at more than just a long day.

“Well, don’t just stand there like a bunch of idiots,” Rufus grumbled, stepping inside and kicking the door shut behind him. “I’ve got something you boys are gonna wanna see.” Dean and Sam exchanged a glance, curiosity flickering to life despite the tension. Bobby motioned for Rufus to sit, but the older hunter waved him off, reaching into his coat pocket. “No time for sitting, Singer. Got a lead on that compass you’ve been poking at.” Rufus pulled out a small, intricately carved piece of metal and held it up to the light. It gleamed with a strange, almost otherworldly sheen, and Dean could immediately tell it wasn’t just any ordinary piece of junk.

“Where the hell did you find that?” Bobby asked, his tone a mix of disbelief and amazement, his eyes fixed on the piece as if it might vanish if he looked away. “Got wind of it in a market over in Missouri,” Rufus replied, tossing the piece to Sam. “The seller didn’t know what he had. But I recognized it from the pictures you sent me. Figured it might be one of the missing pieces.” Sam examined the metal piece closely, his eyes widening as he compared it to the back of the compass and the numerous different-sized indents that adorned the surface. With a slow, deliberate motion, Sam slid the piece into one of the indents. The satisfying click echoed in the silence of the room, and for a moment, the air seemed to hum with an unseen energy.

Dean stared at the compass in Sam’s hands, his heart pounding in his chest. “One down, several more to go,” he muttered, trying to keep the frustration from seeping into his voice. The more pieces they found, the closer they were to finding you. But the journey felt endless, and every new lead seemed to stretch out before them like an infinite road.

Rufus shrugged, his expression unreadable. “If I come across anything else, I’ll be back. But don’t hold your breath. These pieces aren’t exactly growing on trees.”

“Time to get back to the books,” Bobby sighed, taking a sip of his whiskey. His gaze drifted to your spear, still standing in the living room like a sentinel. It was a constant reminder of the last time you had been there. His thoughts wandered to your last visit, to the laughter you brought, and how you had helped in more ways than you were even aware of. Whether he’d admit it out loud or not, he thought of you as part of the family, and getting you home was his top priority now. 

The piece Rufus had brought gave all of them a renewed sense of hope. It was a small victory, but it was something. Rufus didn’t stay long, mentioning something about a ghost four states over that needed dealing with. As he left, the brothers exchanged a glance, silently agreeing that this wasn’t over. They had no idea how many different pieces they would need to complete the compass, but they weren’t going to give up anytime soon. The fight to bring you home for good had only just begun. 

—---------------------

Mechoria, Your Birthday…

You hadn’t wanted to get out of bed that morning. Even after one of the servants brought you breakfast, which you only picked at, your appetite was nonexistent. The morning outside was chilly, and snow fell steadily, a gentle cascade of white flakes that seemed to disappear before ever reaching the ground. Normally, you would have found this phenomenon fascinating, but not today. Today, your thoughts were consumed by the brothers, by Earth, and by an overwhelming longing to be there with them.

When Dean had turned eighteen, you hadn’t been on Earth for it, and now, on your eighteenth birthday, you weren’t there either. You had always missed the brothers before, but now it felt more profound, like a piece of you was missing. You curled up with one of your pillows and stared at the dark blue velvet curtains that kept the sun’s rays at bay.

It’s not fair, you thought bitterly, feeling the sting of tears in your eyes. Will I even see them again before Sam turns eighteen? The question haunted you, echoing in the silence of your room.

Near lunch, Arina came to visit you, her presence a small comfort in the otherwise bleak day. You were supposed to go have lunch with her—it was her birthday gift to you—but even that seemed like a hollow gesture now. The weight of your emotions pressed down on you, making it hard to muster the energy to care about anything at all. 

Arina sat with you in your room, the gesture bringing a small amount of comfort to your aching soul while you shared the delectable sweets she’d brought to cheer you up. The sugary aroma of honey pastries, fruit tarts, and cinnamon cakes filled the air, but it did little to lift the fog of melancholy clouding your thoughts. You picked at the treats, taking small bites, feeling the flavors but not truly tasting them. Ariana’s eyes were full of concern, her voice gentle as she tried to coax you into conversation. You appreciated her efforts, her friendship, but even her company felt like a reminder of the distance separating you from the brothers.

After an hour, Arina squeezed your hand and offered a reassuring smile before leaving you alone. As the door clicked shut behind her, the dam holding back your emotions broke, and you finally gave in to the misery that had settled over and through you. Tears you hadn’t wanted to shed flowed freely, each drop a testament to the longing and loneliness that consumed you.

You wanted to be strong, to not feel weak or like a child crying over something precious that was lost. But it hurt so much not to be with them on this day, the ache in your chest a constant reminder of the bond that was stretched across dimensions.. That evening, you sat in your bed, the room dimly lit by a single candle, and wrote to the brothers. You poured your heat onto the paper, sharing with them how you had envisioned the day going had you been together. It brought you a small sense of comfort, even if a few more tears slipped down your cheeks and dotted the paper.

—------

Time passed, as it tended to do, for not just you but also for the brothers back on Earth. Days blurred together, but you managed, and some were better than others. You eventually replaced your simple bag with a far sturdier one that Arina made for you, with lots of pockets to keep things organized. She also made you a beautiful over-the-shoulder bag for your journals, as you now had four of them, one empty one to save for later. 

Winter turned to spring, but it was short-lived, and you barely enjoyed the blossoms or the life it brought. Summer was lonely, and on the second of May, another small box sat on your desk, this one for Sam. That, too, found its way into your bag with a few tears. Mechoria was a wonderful place, but it wasn’t home, and without the brothers, you felt emptier and emptier.

Fall came with a chilly breeze through your window, causing you to shiver, but with it came that familiar scent that nearly knocked you down. It had been so long that you’d almost forgotten how wonderful it smelled. A sense of hope and excitement coursed through your body as you dressed quickly, packing up the few items you had out. You wrote a note to the innkeeper and one for Arina, leaving them on the desk, knowing they’d be found. Then, you tossed your new bag over your shoulder with the smaller one that held your journals.

Goosebumps ran down your body as a smile found your lips. You pulled open your door, and the scent hit you again.

Home. Please, I need to see them…

Holding an image of them in your mind, you stepped through your doorway. The inn swirled in a distorted way as it changed around you. The beautiful browns of the wooden walls twisted and turned, shifting to tall trees as blues dotted the sky above through the strange leaves. Things also seemed muted, as if someone had almost drained the vibrancy from them.

Even though things were still a bit blurry, the world around you not quite solid, the scent seemed to beckon you further. So, you followed it, your steps cautious as you walked through the distorted forest. It was disorienting to walk before the world had come into full focus, as it still seemed to be shifting around you. In the distance, on all sides, different scenes came into view, like windows into other worlds, each one more fascinating than the last.

It was a fascinating kaleidoscope of colors and images, landscapes and animals, all blending together in a surreal tapestry. The scent continued to guide you, still along that distorted forest path of this unknown world. You couldn’t tell if you were between worlds or if this was just another dimension, but you pressed on, determined to find your way back to the brothers, back to home.

----------------------------------------- Chapter 23 - A World Between Worlds

Link to the series Masterlist.

A/N: If you'd like to get in on the Dimensional Traveling, go to this link and leave me with a comment, or several, with as much or as little detail about the dimension you'd like the Traveler to end up in. If you'd like to have something specific happen, share that too. I'll make sure that you get credit for the idea you shared in the chapter in which your dimension is featured. I'd love to have as many readers involved as possible. I think this could be a lot of fun.

As always, if you'd like to be tagged, let me know and I'll add you to the tag list. If I missed anyone, please let me know.

Tag List: @littlemadamred @mxltifxnd0m @foxyjwls007 @supernaturalfreakout @roseblue373

@flamencodiva @reignsboy19 @stillhere197 @hobby27 @megs-gadom

[skaruresonic]

Trying to label Eggman as anything other than evil requires insane amounts of mental gymnastics. I don't understand why people keep making this so complicated.

Guys, the terrorist who committed 329 war crimes isn't really evil because he called Sage a good girl one time. He's human just like you and me! Hooray!

Ikr? What does a motherfucker have to do to get some recognition around here? "He's not really evil," yeah, try pulling the "he just doesn't know any better" defense in court when the guy pointed a gun at a girl's head. And that's an incredibly minor infraction compared to the rest of his rap sheet.

I'm sure Sonic would love to hear the arguments about how Eggman is simply misguided and will take them into consideration the next time he leaves the guy behind in Explosion #3,487.

This discourse is having the opposite effect on me than what was probably intended. Because instead of thinking "hmm, maybe Eggman really is a multidimensional character now," I'm thinking "Well, what do you guys consider 'real evil,' then, if nothing he does counts?"

You can't even argue "he's not as bad as the others because he only wants to conquer the world, not destroy it," because A.) not every non-Eggman villain aims to destroy the world, and B.)

Folks are so busy trashing Forces that they overlook the glaring point it made that if Eggman managed to conquer the world, it'd really fucking suck. Debris and carnage everywhere. That's why Tails pushes his "everybody needs to work together to rebuild the planet" message at the end of the game.

Eggman's schemes will inevitably result in the world getting destroyed; just because it may not happen all at once doesn't mean it won't happen. The world ending with a smog-choked whimper instead of the dramatic bang the other villains promise still entails the end of the world. So according to this weird double-standard people created to preclude him from the heavy hitters, he would count as one of the "worse threats" anyway.

In fact, I'd deign to echo TailsTube's statements and argue he's the most dangerous one in this Chili's precisely because he never remains defeated for long. Sonic only needs to beat Dark Gaia, Solaris, the Time Eater, and the Zeti once and they're down for the count, but Eggman keeps getting back up.

[is-the-battlemech-cool-or-not]

Judge my boy, the Axman

Ah, the Axman. The Hatchetman's bigger brother, and even more dangerous. Melee combat is extremely effective, even with how difficult it can be to pull off in a 'Mech. Contrary to many Clanners, I have fully embraced melee combat as a necessary skill to learn (and yes, a Highlander Burial counts as a melee attack, I do not care what the Solaris VII commentators say).

The 'Mech's original configuration itself was quite good for its era. An AC/20 and an Axe are terrifying at close quarters, and the trio of medium lasers is a reliable and ammunition free backup. The large pulse laser is excellent for dealing with faster targets at range, as well as infantry.

I have fought (and piloted) several Axmans over the decades. The latest -5N variant is truly a machine to fear - a HAG20, a cERPPC, a trio of ER Medium Lasers (IS spec, but most individual machines of this configuration I have seen have swapped them for Clanspec versions - rightly so). The ECM suite ensures it will be harder to hit on the run up, and the TSM will give extra speed, and make the axe hit even harder. Overall, a very good variant.