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thunderstroked · 6 months ago

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Three's Company || Mona, Inge & Felix

TIMING: current. LOCATION: the common. PARTIES: @nightmaretist @recoveringdreamer & @thunderstroked SUMMARY: inge and felix go looking for their friend (separately) and find her this time! CONTENT: none.

It had been a month since Mona responded to any of Felix’s messages. She hadn’t been by their apartment — at least, not when they’d been there, and Luci would have mentioned if she’d come by now that they were gone — and they’d been to her shop and her apartment a few times, too, and found both empty. Nothing about it felt good. Mona wouldn’t disappear without telling them, wouldn’t vanish without a word. And the timing was suspicious, too. She’d vanished just a few days after Felix’s last encounter with the shrult, and that had to mean something. Wasn’t the answer obvious? Felix was no detective, but they could put two and two together when they tried.

So… they’d been investigating. It wasn’t exactly easy. They’d combed the beach for hours last week, searching for shrimp who might know something. They’d bought a book from a guy on Amity Road after their third unsuccessful interrogation, one that promised to teach them to better communicate with the shrimp who they were sure must have known something. They’d followed the cultist who approached them and Wren at the park, tried to determine if he was in on it. They’d done everything they knew to do, and they still felt no closer to finding out where their friend was, or if she was okay, or if she was alive. It reminded them of those hours between their mother’s disappearance and the confirmation of her death, like they were just… waiting patiently for the sky to fall. It was their least favorite feeling.

They’d rather be active. They’d rather be searching, even if they were bad at it. They weren’t sure what they even hoped to find at the shop they’d entered now, only that they were desperate to find something. And maybe… Maybe everyone got lucky, sooner or later. Maybe it was statistically impossible not to. Either way, there was a rush of relief when they happened to be in the right place at the right time to overhear the right conversation. They shifted their inner ear the moment the word fox was mentioned, focusing everything they had on eavesdropping.

“ — telling you, man, it was a fox. Weirdest fuckin’ one I ever seen. All blue and shit, dude, it was messed up.”

“And it was just runnin’ through the Common?”

“Yeah. Woulda shot it, but they don’t like people havin’ weapons out there.”

“Probably go into the woods later. We can find it then, try to —”

Felix had heard enough. Listening any more would only make them uncomfortable, so they focused on what they’d learned. A fox in the Common. They could work with that.

—

Mona and Inge’s friendship was similar to plenty of others she had with fellow immortals or long-lived species. Most of them didn’t stay around one place for too long, after all, and yet with most of them she’d cross paths at one point or another. So too it had been with Mona, who had shown up in Wicked’s Rest by sheer luck and had returned to her life as if they had never been apart. But even though their friendship was one of absences and presences, it wasn’t like Mona to ghost her. To leave her sitting at a restaurant and not text with an apology or excuse, to completely vanish in thin air.

As this was Wicked’s Rest, there were plenty of reasons as to why Mona could have disappeared. Hunters, of course. There were plenty of shitty ones around and Inge wore the scars to prove it. There were ghosts who could cover people in goo. There were sky quakes and cults and banshees who threatened to cut off your fingers. For someone who made people afraid to go asleep as there might be danger lurking in their REM sleep, Inge was starting to ironically see danger in every corner.

Mona’s shop was abandoned. Her phone went to voicemail. Inge looked at her home from the astral and saw no traces of having left impulsively, but no traces of Mona having been around either. Something smelled bad in the fridge, so she threw it out and left a sticky note on the fridge. Inge was starting to believe the worst.

And then there were her students, of course. Those young adults with not fully formed brains who gossiped so loud that any and all teacher could hear it too. Most of the times she ate it up, but when their conversation steered towards a blue fox in the Common, she halted. It took all her power to not shake the students at the shoulders and tell her all they knew. In stead, Inge dismissed her class, told them all something vague about letting the, “Muse take you where it takes you!” and ventured out.

She was entering the common where her eyes fell on another familiar face. Luckily it was a harmless one. It was Felix, who she had lied to about the chair, the vacuum and her mother. She paid them little to no mind and attempted to hurry past them, which was not as easy as she wanted with her back still plaguing her. So, whatever. She turned around. “Hi, Felix. Have you seen any …” Chairs belonging to my young mother? “Weird things? I heard …” You robbed my elderly young mother. “Rumors.”

—

They were moving with a single-minded focus, trying to get somewhere secluded enough to allow them to shift to the point of picking up on sounds and scents they might otherwise miss. The Common was crowded, because it always was, but if Felix could get off somewhere by themself… It wasn’t hard to pass partial shifts off as something like a costume, sometimes. Even Thea was convinced Felix was little more than a very dedicated furry, despite how many times Felix had attempted to correct her. They could use that to their advantage here. But, in all honesty… they cared less about laying low than they should have. More than anything, they just wanted to find Mona. More than anything, they wanted her to be okay.

So focused in their journey, they didn’t realize they knew the woman who’d just hurried by them until she turned around. Normally, Felix would have recognized her right away, but with their mind so focused on Mona, it took them a moment before… Right. The lady whose mom’s chair was eaten by the vending machine. Felix felt a little sheepish at seeing her again, shifting their weight and trying to find a way to politely exit the conversation so they could continue on their journey.

“Um… I don’t know. What kind of rumors did you hear? I don’t — I mean, I’m kind of in a hurry. I’m, uh, I’m looking for a fox. A friend! Sorry, I meant I’m looking for a friend. Who I’m meeting. Here. In the Common. I hope your mom is doing okay, by the way. I hope she likes her vacuum.”

—

She didn’t think Felix would pose a threat to Mona. Inge figured she had a feel for these kinds of things by now — that she could guess what kind of people were hunters and what kind of people weren’t. Felix didn’t seem the type. Nor did they seem the type to be a banshee. So she didn’t quite trust him, but she also didn’t mind asking him for some help rather than any of the unfamiliar faces around them. There was no way that they were a hunter, after all. No possible, feasible way.

And then he said those words — he was looking for a fox. Felix corrected themself quick but Inge stared at them for a moment. “A fox? I’ve heard rumors about a blue one. Right here.” She pressed her lips together, looked around fervently. “My friend … has a blue fox, and she lost it here. It’s an exotic pet, so it’s very important we find it, you know? Maybe while you wait for your friend –” Was there a chance that Felix meant Mona? It’d be some kind of fucking irony if so. “– you can help me?”

She started walking again, eyes scanning the area. She saw a flash of blue but it was just a frisbee. Inge looked at Felix over her shoulder. Her mother, right, “Oh, she’s loving it, don’t worry. She’s also worried about my friend’s pet.”

—

At first, Felix was hopeful that Inge hadn’t picked up on their slip. But that hope didn’t last very long, didn’t make it past its first breath. Inge picked up on it immediately, called it out right away, and Felix winced at their own clumsiness. They didn’t think there was any danger of outing Mona — they hadn’t even said her name, nor did Inge have any reason to assume that the fox they were looking for was a shapeshifter who also happened to be Felix’s best friend — but they felt guilty all the same.

But then, Inge continued. She’d heard rumors of a blue fox, and Felix perked up, eyes widening. Her friend had lost a pet — did that mean that was where Mona had been all this time? Had someone found her and kept her as a pet, making it impossible for her to shift back without exposing herself as a shifter? But if that were the case, why wouldn’t she shift back now that she’d presumably escaped them? Anxiety thrummed in the balam’s chest, and they shifted their weight uncertainly.

“Yes,” they agreed. “I’ll help you find your friend’s blue fox! My friend really likes foxes. I bet she’d like to see it. Um, maybe when we find it, I can take it to show her! Before we get it back to your friend.” If they slipped Mona away unseen, she could come back to the boiler room to shift where no one would spot her. It wasn’t a perfect solution, but it was better than sending her back to be someone’s pet. “I’m glad she’s doing well! Has she… seen the fox? Has your friend shown it to a lot of people?” This could be bad. This could be really bad.

—

Felix seemed to be malleable, Inge thought. They had so easily apologized for their transgressions, even if there had been none — and it had been amusing to her. To watch them squirm as she spoke about her mother as if she was a fully formed person who was alive. It had been cruel, then, but it hadn’t been too bad and more importantly, it now informed her that Felix was someone she could ask for help. They would most likely perish on the spot before saying no.

They were rambling about their friend, which was very confusing considering moments ago they’d confused the word fox and friend. Coincidences existed, but it was a very ironic slip of the tongue. “Yes, sure, we can show it to your friend — who isn’t a fox, just a friend.” She was nodding, as if she was wholly convinced. Inge wasn’t sure what to make of any of it. Then, she tried to convince the other of her story: “No, she does not show it to a lot of people. She’s very careful about her fox.”

Usually she’d spend a whole lot of time on weaving a convincing and amusing lie, but she was running out of time. Inge started stomping around the Common, boots moving from path to grass from grass to path, eyes scanning the place. She raised her hand, then, pointing at a bench in the distance. “There!” She picked up her pace, hurrying to where she thought to see Mona.

—

“Haha, it would be weird if my friend was a fox! I can’t talk to foxes! I’m human!” Felix felt desperation crawling up, clawing at their throat. They would not out Mona. They would not out themself. They would convince Inge — who seemed nice and stayed home to take care of her mother but was still, ultimately, a stranger — that no part of this equation involved anyone shifting into any kind of animal, because that was ridiculous. (Dangerous, really. That was dangerous.)

They pressed their tongue against the back of their teeth as Inge spoke about how careful their friend was. “Well, it’s probably illegal to have a pet fox. So that makes sense.” There were laws about all kinds of silly things. Felix wondered if the animal control guy from the internet would get angry about pet foxes if he knew. Maybe that could be how he freed Mona from being someone’s pet, if that was what had happened.

Or… maybe they wouldn’t need to worry about it. Relief rushed into them like a wave at the sight of a figure on a bench, and they moved towards it almost before Inge had spoken at all. Not a fox, but a person. A familiar person, a person they hadn’t seen in way too long now. Felix practically sprinted to close the distance. “Where did the shrimp go? Did you fight them off?” They were speaking before they’d stopped moving, nervous babbling desperate to fill the silence.

—

All it had taken was eating a flower. Mona had been too stunned to do anything other than stare at the deflated and crushed petals in the palm of her hand. It’d been so long since she felt the sun on the crown of her head. Two months, right? That’s how long it had been? She’d been present for all of it. It shouldn’t have taken that long, and yet, she had been pulled from her daily routines, all because of pollen. Fuck, she hated this town.

She hated it with every fiber of her being.

Mona inhaled sharply, crushing the bits of leftover petals in her hand, letting them fall into the ground. The gummy texture from the petals she had eaten (by mistake) was still present on her tongue. She needed water, as well as something real to eat. She leveled her gaze with a number of patrons who shot her questioning looks. Her outfit was the same as the day she had shifted– clean and fresh. The dirt on her skin as well as the weeds and twigs threading through her hair, however, was another thing entirely.

With a sigh, Mona ran her fingers through her matted hair.

She looked up as she heard footfalls, and then– a familiar voice.

Surprise pulled muscles in ways they hadn’t been used in too long and she reached up to rub at her jaw. “Felix? Inge?” It was hilarious, really. The two people she’d been trying to make her way towards had been the ones to find her.

“The shrimp? No, I got sneezed on by some pollen monster. It made it impossible to not be in gumiho form.” She rose from the bench, legs slightly shaky from the lack of use. Mona moved the rest of her matted hair from her face, shoving it behind her ears. “I tried to find both of you. Well, separately. I didn’t know you were acquainted.” She looked between them, eyebrows furrowing. “It’s been two months. Why have you only found me just– no, that’s not polite. This town is hell. I’m sure there was an apocalypse while I was on all fours.” That had to be the only reason it took so long… right?

—

Inge was fully and completely taken aback by the situation at hand. Once Felix and her had run up at Mona – who was not a fox at present, so it was perhaps strange in the first place that he they followed so complacently, but she wasn’t thinking about that now – and the other had started asking about shrimps and Mona had recognized them both, she just stood there for a moment.

Really? Mona and Felix knew each other — that was kind of hilarious. A twist of fate that would have to be reexamined later over a bottle of wine (or whatever Felix’ drink of choice was). Inge would have to tell Mona about her lies, though, or come clean about them. But that was later.

She tsk-ed, “Pollen monster?” She’d no idea such things existed, but it made complete and utter sense all the same. “How did you manage to shift back, then?” Inge didn’t wait for a an answer before doing what she should have done earlier. She pulled Mona into a quick hug and gave her another once over when she pulled back, letting her go. “I tried — well, I tried to look for you, but I must have looked in the wrong corners. I kept your fridge clean, though, had to throw out some of your famed cucumber salad.” It wasn’t the most pressing thing, however, so she jumped to a question: “Jesus, are you alright?” Her eyes moved between her and Felix, still getting used to the fact that they were acquainted and that Felix knew about Mona’s shifted form.

—

Mona knew Inge? Felix realized, somewhat belatedly, that he and Inge had come here with the same goal in mind. There was something almost comical about it, the concept of two people who knew each other only vaguely being unknowingly drawn together by the same unwinnable game. Did Inge know, then, that Mona was a kitsune? Was that why she, too, had spoken of a fox? Felix was filled to the brim with questions, but they didn’t know how to ask any of them. They were transfixed instead, staring at Mona’s matted hair and defeated expression and filled with a guilt that threatened to suffocate them.

They had been looking in the wrong place. All this time, they’d been caught up with the shrimp drama that had happened shortly before Mona’s disappearance, and it wasn’t related at all. And they’d let themself grow distracted in the meantime, let his attention be swallowed up by the Grit Pit and Leo and the boiler room. What had Mona been doing, in all that time? What terrible experiences had she been living?

“I’ve only met her once,” they said, though they knew that was probably the least important thing about the whole situation. “Um, a vending machine stole her mom’s chair, and I… That’s not important. What happened? Are you okay? Did you…” They didn’t even know what they wanted to ask. She’d looked for them, she said. She’d looked for them. Had she gone to their apartment and found it lacking? The idea made the guilt swirl all the more. “What do you need now? Water? Um, food?”

—

“Pollen monster,” Mona affirmed with a nod of her head. “I’m not certain what happened, or how, but one moment I was upright, and the next I was existing as…” She gestured to herself, allowing her two closest friends to fill in the blanks. “When I arrived at The Common, I stumbled upon a flower. I snapped at it to get a wasp away from me, but instead I ate the flower. Then I shifted back.” It was so surreal to say, and if there were any two different people in front of her, they might not believe her.

As Inge took her into her arms, Mona sunk into the hug. It was interrupted too quickly, and she let out a soft laugh. “I hope Frederick wasn’t too perplexed by my disappearance.” He was probably grateful for it. What kind of rabbit made friends with a fox, anyway? “I’m fine. It’s just been a long few months is all.” It shouldn’t have taken that long at all, and though it was humiliating, it could have been a lot worse and she knew that.

Felix’s explanation of how he knew Inge made no sense, but nothing in this town did. Mona didn’t think that Inge even had her mother’s chair with her stateside, so it must have been one of her many ways of poking fun at someone who’d eat up just about any explanation. She gave Inge a pointed look as if to say you’ll need to come clean about that, then reached out to squeeze Felix’s arm. It was clear they were beginning to panic. “I’m fine. A few tussles with a few different hunters. Hence not leading them your way.” That could mean anything to either of them, and while they knew one another, Mona wasn’t certain how well. It wasn’t as if she wanted to out either of them, but Felix had to know something was up with Inge, right? Given the no heartbeat of it all.

“Food, water– it all sounds fucking wonderful right about now. I’ve been living off of squirrels.” She made a face. It wouldn’t have been the first time, but pouncing on them reminded her of moments with her dad– feelings and memories she’d rather push out. “It was dangerous for me to be around town as much as I wanted to just come and find you. You’re both aware of my…” Mona gestured toward herself with a laugh again, indicating that she meant the fact that she did not resemble just any fox. “But two months– that was too long. I shouldn’t have let fear get to me the way it did. I’m sorry.”

—

Felix already threw Inge’s lie out there and she saw the look in Mona’s eye. For a moment it was almost like being a child again and being looked at with disapproval by a teacher, but she shook off the comparison and offered her now-human-again friend a mild shrug. It would come later, her confession — but for now her focus was on Mona and Mona alone. “When you think this town can’t surprise you any more … I’m glad you just happened upon that flower, jeez! Did any —” She frowned. Mona seemed unharmed, so the question wasn’t worth asking yet.

“Frederick was more perturbed by my appearance than your lack of,” she said. Even a rabbit was put off by a mare’s presence. She hoped Felix didn’t pick up on her vague statement and moved further: “Gave him some kibble, though.”

She made a face too at the thought of squirrels for a diet. She looked at Felix for a moment, who seemed to be battling an inner monster, and let her gaze drift back to Mona. “Don’t apologize, it’s fine, okay? I mean — it’s not, but you don’t owe us any apology. I am just glad to see you again.” Inge swallowed, her head continuing to circle back to the things she’d assumed. “Thought maybe …” She shook her head. “You’re here now. Let’s get you something to eat, hm? My car isn’t far. We can go somewhere or to yours or mine or …” They glanced at Felix. Theirs? “Wherever you want. What are you craving?”

—-

How lucky had they gotten for Mona to find that flower? Felix didn’t want to think of what could have become of her if she hadn’t. Would she have been trapped as a fox forever? If she’d had run-ins with hunters — something that terrified them just to think about — how long could she really have lasted like that? Eventually, someone would have gotten the better of her. Felix swallowed, trying not to lose themself in the terrifying collection of what ifs that hung over them now.

They listened as Mona and Inge spoke of Frederick, noting how close the two seemed to be. Wasn’t it strange how Felix had known nothing of their friendship at all, despite knowing them both separately? Wicked’s Rest was a small town but, in moments like this one, it felt so much smaller. It seemed everyone knew everyone in one way or another. Sometimes, it was comforting. Other times, it was terrifying. In this instant, it felt more neutral.

Nodding in agreement as Inge spoke, Felix offered Mona a watery smile. “I’m just glad you’re okay,” he said earnestly. “I was… really scared.” Felix wasn’t afraid to admit things like this, didn’t feel shame at the fear clawing their gut. His friend had been missing, and it had scared him. She was back now, and they were relieved. It was a simple thing.

When Inge was looking for a place to take Mona, Felix shook their head. “Um, probably not mine,” they said quickly. “It’s… not important right now, but I can’t… have visitors.” They glanced between the two, shrugging slightly. That wasn’t something they wanted to unpack at the moment. There were far more important things — like Mona and her well being. “But I have snacks in my truck! Or we can go to a restaurant! I can buy food. For both of you!”

—

“I’m a little frustrated at myself. All it took was eating a flower?” If she knew that, she would have taken on the personality of a goat, eating everything in sight. Mona sighed again, this time a little too dramatically. She couldn’t believe that a two month exodus from her human form could be solved by one of nature’s bounties. Then again, she’d been stuck because of it, too. Perhaps nature wasn’t the right word. Maybe it was just this town’s way of poking fun at her.

Mona nodded as Inge went on to explain how Frederick was doing. That made sense. He probably would have preferred her over Inge at that point, but Inge’s presence in the temporary home she had made out of Esther’s studio meant that the rabbit should’ve gotten used to her. Then again, maybe that wasn’t how it worked at all. It’s why when Inge was over, they spent time in a separate room from Frederick. “I appreciate you, as always.” She gave Inge a soft smile before her gaze hovered over Felix who had tears in their eyes.

She reached out, squeezing his arm. “It was scary at first, then I suppose survival instincts kicked in.” She wasn’t like other shifters and she knew that, but still, she was a fox. She knew how to take care of herself as one. Mona dropped her hand from Felix’s arm before crossing them over her chest. “I’m just grateful it was the two of you I happened upon. Imagine if it’d been the kid who thought I was doing cosplay.” She rolled her eyes, thinking of the moment in the bar and how he’d almost been made a snack.

It had been awhile since Mona had felt so appreciated. Inge’s suggestions, Felix’s misty eyed gaze. Her chest tightened as she looked at her two closest friends. “We’ll discuss that later,” Mona said in response to Felix’s situation with nobody being allowed over at his home. That didn’t sound right. “I’d like a shower first, if I’m being honest. Then I’ll take the two of you out. How does that sound?” Mona could feel her own set of tears beginning to brim the corners of her eyes– overwhelmed by the love she had for them. “I’ll take a snack on the way, though.” She looked over at Felix with a gentle smile. It felt odd, being this sincere. “But, as for what I’m craving– a burger sounds delightful right about now.”

#para: three's company #para: inge #para: felix #wickedswriting

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iristars-exe · 24 days ago

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What if the Hilichurls were cursed TWICE ?

Okay hear me out.

I know this might sound crack BUT I think there’s enough reason to doubt the assumption that the Hilichurls suffer only from the curse of the wilderness, I mean doesn’t anyone else think that it’s weird how mortal people suddenly become immortal when they turn into monsters ? It makes more sense for them to just retain their mortality/immortality status whether as a human being or a Hilichurls, right ?

Well…

Obvious things first, as far as I’m aware, it was never outright stated that the Hilichurls suffer from only one curse, so what’s stopping them from being cursed more than once ? Nothing.

More seriously though, since we have confirmation that the curse of the wilderness has been around for much longer than the curse of immortality ( and thus it is implies they are two different curses, so I’m currently siding with the theory that it is not one curse which affects two groups of people separately ) we need to pay attention for the different reasons behind the two curses Khaenri’ahns suffer from.

See, the curse of the wilderness only affects those who have forsaken The Seven and chose to live in Khaenri’ah, so that upon leaving Khaenri’ah and returning to the surface, they shall turn into monsters that we call Hilichurls, losing their intellect and all that made them human, so to me, it seems the only motivation behind this curse is to punish those who celestia would consider “sinners” for forsaking The Seven, but those Hilichurls don’t have to be immortal to suffer from that punishment you know, that’s a little overkill.

Now take a look at the curse of immortality, there are many possible reasons for why the Khaenri’ahns were cursed by it but personally I’m siding with the idea that because the abyss invaded Khaenri’ah, everything nearby including people got contaminated by the abyss, and because Celestia didn’t want that contamination to leak into the Irminsul when those people died and they’re bodies and souls returned to the Ley Lines, so they cursed them with immortality to avoid mass Irminsul/Ley Line contamination.

So now that I’ve established what I think the context and reasoning behind those curses were, here’s what I think happened: Celestia applied the curse of the wilderness to all who forsook The Seven long before the Cataclysm, so that any one who once lived under the rule of The Seven then fled to Khaenri’ah and their descendants would turn into Hilichurls upon returning to the surface, then the Cataclysm happened, and Celestia cursed EVERYONE with immortality, wether they were pure blood or half blood Khaenriahns or even people with no Khaenriahn blood who just lived there, once the situation became dire and the people evacuated to the surface, those who met the conditions of the curse of the wilderness turned into monsters after already being cursed with immortality, while the pure bloods suffered from immortality alone, this should be why Hilichurls can’t die, not because the nature of Hilichurls is being immortal, but because they were cursed with immortality before they ever turned into Hilichurls, which means that prior to the Cataclysm it seems likely that none of the Hilichurls were immortal, but now since most if not all Hilichurls are cursed Khaenri’ahns, they don’t die anymore and simply return to goo over time.

“But Iris, Chlothar said that the pure bloods were deemed ‘the greater sinners’ and so they were cursed with immortality while the rest were given the curse of the wilderness”

“Iris what about Ukko in dragonspine, if he’s not immortal because he was cursed before the cataclysm then why is he still alive ?”

Shhhhhhhhhhhh we don’t talk about that, I will figure out a way to make that work with my theory eventually, I just need that to cook for a little longer, for now I just wanted to share this mini theory I thought up at like 3 am so I hope you enjoyed lol :)

P.S.

Sorry the formatting is kind of a mess, probably bc I’m writing this really late at night, I might fix it later, also somehow I feel like I didn’t explain my idea well enough…feel free to ask any questions or suggest supporting evidence/pose counter arguments to my ideas tho :D

P.P.S.

So remember how I said the people who suffered from the curse of the wilderness are the ones who chose to forsake The Seven ? Yeah so what if Khaenri’ah was actually a nation built by people who realized what was up with the whole system of fate and how they still had free will so they “chose to walk off the stage and join the audience” as Kaeya put it in his hangout, just a thought…

#genshin #genshin impact #genshin lore #khaenri'ah #celestia

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lookbluesoup · 2 years ago

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I WISH you would write a fic where lyrha does some crime. just a little criminal activity, as a treat. how serious the crime is is up to you. (hopefully this isn't too vague I've never sent one of these in before lol)

Thank you! :D Lyrha would argue this isn't actually stealing this is just getting fair and square but... the Immortal Flames would probably disagree if they caught her. If X'rhun's hair wasn't already white, she'd be the reason for it turning.

Content warnings for: Ul'dah

Ul’dah was always risky business. Not a port town… but a lot of merchants. A lot of rich lalafells with trading ships which Lyrha may or may not have robbed in a past life. And a hub for the more mercenary minded – bounty hunters with long memories and few scruples.

And while ‘black haired Wildwood Elezen man from the Shroud’ or ‘blonde Ala Mhigan Hyur woman with red eyes and a limp’ could mean any number of people… ‘green-eyed calico Seeker of the Sun with an I-tribe brogue and a golden tooth’ was going to stand out no matter what.

She might wear The Red now, but the cut of her jib disguised little enough. Masking her accent and making sure not to smile too wide might help some… but a green eyed calico was still going to draw attention in Eorzea’s most corrupt city. Lead to questions, if she crossed the wrong stranger in the street. It’d happened before. And this time, X’rhun wasn’t here to insist on her behalf or watch her back.

But she wouldn’t be such a valuable mark if she was unworthy of the challenge to equal it. A smuggler knew her trade, and there were some things you never really left behind, even if your reasons for doing them changed...

All of which was to say Lyrha did not believe it overly-cautious, wearing a long dark cloak, and dyeing her fur black with pickled leeches mashed into goo. She reeked of vinegar, which meant she smelled a great deal better than most of the poor lining the street as she walked.

She avoided the Adventurer’s Guild and high-brow circles of the city, and stepped lightly through the less governable spaces, minimizing the risk of drawing unwanted scrutiny. A great deal of time and effort had gone into not being noticed.

And yet.

Lyrha sighed. Nearly a groan. And rolled her eyes at her own accursed conscience.

But the little boy was crying. A pitiful half-starved scrap of Ala Mhigan refuse on the flagstone, soon to be an orphan. Father died in debt and mother couldn’t pay the dues. They were taking her away. Just another day in Ul’dah. Another story she’d seen play out a hundred different ways.

A year ago she’d call him another child who would sink or swim on his own merit, and his mother another fool too proud to do what it took to survive in this world.

But Lyrha owed allegiance to a different code, now. Even when X’rhun wasn’t here to watch her. She considered walking her own way, ignoring it. She always considered not getting involved, like her instincts urged.

X’rhun was right about at least one thing, though. It was dreadfully amusing to thwart someone. And the overdressed little merchant prancing away ahead of his hired blades and roughed up captive was absolutely, without a doubt, positively begging for a good thwarting.

Lyrha knelt down beside the boy, placing a hand on his shoulder. He looked up sharply, eyes red around the rims with blatant grief. She grinned, wide enough to show off the one golden tooth, and asked quietly, “Did yer mama or papa ever tell ye stories about the Crimson Duelists, lad?”

His brow furrowed, but he nodded through his sniffling.

Lyrha parted the gap in her dark cloak just wide enough for him to see the red of her bliaud underneath.

Blonde eyebrows bolted upright, and he stared her full in the face, sobs relenting ever-so-slightly.

Grinning conspiratorially, Lyrha asked next, “Do ye know the way t’the Coin an’ Coffer, the tavern at Black Brush Station?”

He nodded again.

“I want ye pack up anything that’s important to you and yer mama, and go there straightaway, alright? There’s a man there in a suit red enough to make a tomato blush, with a pointy hat tha’s got white feathers in it, an’ a tail t’match. Tell ‘im what happened an’ that I’lyrha sent ye. He’ll take care of ye from there.”

Glancing down the street where the man and his henchmen had turned, Lyrha’s tailtip twitched. “I’ll be along with yer mama shortly after. Now go-on.”

She nudged him, and the boy darted like a startled fawn, looking back at her with the faintest of hopeful smiles. She winked. Stood.

Most likely, a black haired Sunseeker with green eyes, a golden tooth, and an I-tribe accent was about to get a bounty of their own. After all… the poncy geezer was costing Lyrha a chance to finish her actual business in Ul’dah. He’d have to make it worth her while. Blood and coin were the currencies here, and she knew how to bargain with both.

If he hadn’t gil on-hand to compensate her for the trouble, well, he’d been wearing enough jewels to set a pirate up for months. He could part with a few.

She was sure he’d also be reasonable about giving up a few of his baubles to the poor widow ma’am and her fatherless son, so they could have a fresh start somewhere new. Seeing how it was his mining operation that put them in the position to begin with.

Lyrha still wasn’t convinced her conscience was doing her any favors. But this… this would make it a little better.

#for someone who doesnt like kids and doesnt care about strangers #lyrha you sure stick your neck out for them #ffxiv #fanfic #red mage #lyrha #my fanfic #verheart

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peri-respecter7000000 · 2 years ago

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Let's talk about animal-anime girl hybrids other than the most common types (cat, dog, wolf, fox, rabbit, mouse, snake, bat)

There are a lot of well known and charismatic animals that rarely get to be anime girls despite being easy to design.

The Virginia Opossum is adorable and its silly black ears, varied coat, and little black socks are all very evocative for how one might design an opossum girl. They have lovable personalities similar to the somewhat more popular raccoon girls, and they're marsupials which means an opossum girl could make for a very wholesome mother. And yet I've barely seen any opossum girls, even though they are wonderful every time someone makes one! This is a crime against God's Creation.

The lack of Spotted Hyena girls may be even more offensive. They are intelligent and charismatic animals with a distinct ear shape and fur pattern, a highly personified vocal behavior that everyone knows about, a reputation as punks and troublemakers, AND they femdom! What more could you possibly want? What better candidate could there be for an animal girl? Hyena girls would girlboss all over any other type of girl in any situation. If humans all still lived in Africa there would be no distance clouding our judgement and we would easily place hyena girls as the most common type of animal girl.

I'll just mention a few other animals that would easily be adapted into wonderful girls, which I still haven't seen much at all, especially outside of Kemono Friends. Giraffe, Beaver, Komodo Dragon, Armadillo, Sloth, Salamander. There must be an endless list of charismatic animals that beg to be immortalized in the sacred form of the anime girl!

But outside of mammals, reptiles, and amphibians, it does become more difficult to personify animals in this way. While I do not understand why we don't see more depictions of our lovable friends the hyenas who we clearly do not deserve, I do understand why there aren't many girls based on insects, for example. Their features are just harder to map onto human bodies. There is a pretty decent precedent for fish girls in mermaids, but this is achieved in a very different and less graceful way than how one creates a catgirl. I like mermaids and I LOVE snake girls, but there's something very different about the way they adopt their animal traits. This speaks highly of our will to bridge the gap between animal and girl, but it also speaks of the increasing difficulty across the animal kingdom. Yet just because it's hard, can we truly say that we shouldn't try? Of course not! There are so many wonderful fish and bugs and molluscs that need us to let them be anime girls! It is our moral duty as humans to encourage this!

Consider the Moray Eel! Can you picture its beautiful flowing body, and its adorably goofy face? I see a delinquent squatting in an alleyway with a clueless expression and a long, green ponytail, who wants to intimidate you with her gaping jaws but secretly wouldn't mind if you came a little closer. Or would you prefer to give her an eel tail? There could be many ways to design a fish girl, and it's up to artists with the will and an eye for design to truly make it reality. I've seen some great stuff, but it's not as common as I think it deserves to be.

My most coveted invertebrate design is to see a Velvet Worm girl, but as far as I know it's never been done. They are cute, they have charismatic antennae and legs, they ensare prey in sticky goo (wish a girl would do that to me), they are smart, AND they femdom. They are perfect, they would make perfect anime girls, and their absence is an affront to the dignity of the human soul! I want to see a velvet worm anime girl very badly. It is a spiritual need.

And what of the prehistoric animal girls!? I have seen many wonderful dinosaur girls, but they should only be the tip of the iceberg! Where are the gorgonopsid girls? Look it up if you don't know, they would be very cool and very strong and delightfully scary. And Dimetrodon? Imagine all the beautiful anime girls you could create with that sail as inspiration. Where are they? Perhaps the biggest crime of all, trilobites did not girlboss around the ocean for hundreds of millions of years only for one sole human to bear the incredible duty of drawing them as anime girls alone, Atlas-like:

There should be giant statues of trilobite anime waifus outside of every museum.

Anyway thanks for reading my rant about animal girls. I have not run out of grievances and it will happen again. If you have your own examples of animal gijinka that you wish were more common please add to this post, and if you share with me any examples of art of lesser appreciated animal girls you will be a dear friend to me.

#this subject makes me wish i knew how to draw #maybe i should learn #also there should be cactus girls and pokemon dont count #this post is what happens when my mental illness and productivity both peak

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mythicandco · 3 years ago

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She isn’t sure why she says it.

Maybe out of pure curiosity - because it’s just the first name that pops into her head, for some reason.

But a name pierces the eerie quiet of the strange in-between dimension, a place that looks like a Demon Realm-style fun house on steroids. Dark liquid lapping against the wildly-twisting, greenish walls is the only sound here other than a human girl’s breathing.

“Philip Wittebane.”

The moment the name leaves her tongue Luz Noceda realizes she should probably check on her mother. Wasn’t that the whole point of this in the first place? But before she gets a chance to correct herself, a cube slowly floats out of the dark liquid around her, as though simply appearing for her is a difficult task. For a few moments it simply hovers there, it’s sides dripping black goo.

Then the side closest to her turns shiny and gold. Her heart rate increasing, the girl moves forward to take it - and then stops. What if it’s just his coffin, or something? Certainly Philip Wittebane would be long dead by now if he’d written his journal back in the 1600s.

But curiosity once again triumphs over doubt and Luz takes the cube in her hands. The worst that could happen is I see a skeleton, she thinks. Big deal. I’ve seen skeletons before.

Unlike the cube that showed her King, Eda, and Hooty, it takes a moment of her holding it for the thing to flash white and transfer her into a reflection. She finds herself holding her breath, and when the cube finally responds to her touch, the girl is caught off-guard and nearly drops it, severing the connection.

Luz is able to hold on, however, and she blinks as things come into focus around her. She is in the reflection of a glass picture frame. It’s holding up some painting of a black spider and a little red bird, she thinks, but her face is so close to the parchment she can’t tell for sure.

She turns her attention to the room around her, and chokes back a gasp at the most notable feature - a large, circular ring with white-and-gold wings splayed at its sides. It vaguely resembles Hunter’s staff, but that isn’t the most worrying part - it’s being constructed around the portal door, which was supposed to be destroyed. Worst of all, it looks nearly completed.

Luz covers her mouth and ducks to the bottom of the reflection as something moves in the dark - an old man with dirty blonde hair, dull blue eyes, and a dark green scar on his face. He’s wearing robes typical of the Emperor’s Coven, but she doesn’t recognize him-

Wait.

Is that Emperor Belos? Without his mask? Luz never thought she’d actually see him like this. He looks... like a sad old man. The girl frowns, but then the impact of what this means hits her full-force and her eyes widen in pure shock. She had said Philip’s name.

“NO,” she says aloud. “NO WAY.”

Belos stiffens and spins around, his eyes narrowing. They dart to his mask, which is laying next to a closed book a few feet away from him. “Who’s there?” he demands. “Spying on the emperor is an offense punishable by death.”

Luz drops the cube out of pure reflex, severing her connection to the castle. It begins to sink back into the goo, but she lets out a yelp and grabs it again.

“No, bad cube,” she scolds. “I still need your help.” Luz loosens her hold on it, but it doesn’t light up again. “Hey, come on, go back to the castle,” she says. “Please?”

The cube doesn’t respond. She shakes it. Still nothing. “Let me see Emperor Belos again! Come on, cube!” But the cube doesn’t listen. Luz grunts in frustration.

“You’re on a mission, Luz. Focus.” Taking a deep breath and closing her eyes, the girl does just that.

“Show me Philip Wittebane.”

It still kind of shocks her that it works; but it does, and Luz finds herself in the reflection of the eye on the door. Staring straight at Emperor Belos.

Both sides let out identical exclamations of surprise, and for the fourth time in the past half an hour, Luz almost drops the godforsaken cube. She hisses “mierda” under her breath before she can stop herself, and is surprised to hear Belos use a profanity of his own that she easily recognizes as from the Human Realm.

The two stare at each other for a moment, and Luz takes another few moments to look at Belos’s face. He really does seem like a sad, old man, even more so up close. His blue eyes have no shine in them, and his hair is in desperate need of a good combing through. She can only see one of his ears, but it’s noticeably smaller than any other witches’ she’s seen so far and has a nick in it, and a disturbing thought occurs to her that she quickly pushes aside.

Heavy bags under his eyes - even more noticeable than the Golden Guard’s - are also present, but the most horrifying part of his face is the strange green scar. Luz doesn’t know what it’s from, but it doesn’t look like anything from the Human Realm.

“Surprised?” she asks, summoning up every ounce of strength that she can. Belos can’t hurt her where she is right now, she’s pretty sure. Even if he destroyed the reflection, it would be destroying the door, and she’s fairly certain that that would only sever the connection again, not actually kill her. He takes a step back with a grimace.

“The Owl Lady’s human pet,” the emperor practically snarls, and Luz flinches. “Guess it was only a matter of time before you tapped into this as well.”

Luz has no idea what he means, but she holds her ground. “Yeah, well, it’s a lot easier when your notes are helping me with it,” she replies. “You are Philip Wittebane, aren’t you?” Her voice trembles for some reason. Now is not the time to get excited about a potentially very dramatic backstory, she mentally tells herself.

Even if you really, really, really want to hear everything about it and take notes.

It’s Belos’ turn to wince, and he reaches for his mask. “You got ahold of my journal?” he asks in a voice that sounds more surprised than resentful.

“It was in the library for a reason,” Luz neglects to mention the paper dragon and the Forbidden Stacks and Amity-

No, Luz. Focus. “But, um, yes.”

A dry laugh escapes the emperor’s throat. “I assumed no one was going to let a human into the Forbidden Stacks.”

Luz blinks, the puzzle pieces in her mind still not quite fitting together. “But if you’re Philip Wittebane, then doesn’t that make you human, too?” She is pretty sure that was right, but with her brain still kind of frazzled by the fact that Philip and Belos were the same person, she might’ve forgotten how the laws of nature worked.

Belos chuckles again, this more sharp and harsh. Luz backs up, but with holding the cube in her hands she doesn’t get any further away from him. He puts the mask on and turns away. “I’m hardly human anymore.”

This is an interesting development. “Ooh, is this like from the Henry Pottery books? If you drink unicorn blood, you’re immortal, but also-”

“This is nothing like that.”

“Oh.” Luz frowns. “Could you tell me what it actually is, then?”

Belos whirls around, uncomfortably close to the door’s reflection. “No.”

Luz let’s out a yelp and the cube shatters in her hands. “Crap,” she says, trying to take the pieces and put them back together. Apparently he did get mad enough to break the door. With a deep inhale, the girl tries to steady herself.

Remember, Luz, she tells herself mentally. You’re on a mission to contact your mom. Worry about what just happened once you tell her what’s going on. She’s still freaking out a little, but the girl breathes a few times and promises herself she’ll look into the Philip-Belos mystery once this is over and taken care of. She opens her eyes again.

“Camila Noceda.”

#toh s2 #the owl house #the owl house spoilers #toh spoilers #yesterday’s lie spoilers #canon divergence #toh au #luz noceda #philip wittebane #emperor belos #fanfiction #the owl house fanfiction #Probably missed a few tags

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phoenixyfriend · 3 years ago

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ok. karin vs anakin's genome being 50% the Force. go

Jesus fuck, okay. Uh, fair warning, I know very little about this subject, so it’s 90% bullshit. I am in no way qualified to talk about biology past the high school level.

Anakin's sixteen. He's part of a set of Jedi assigned to a weird mission regarding making contact with an isolated planet of near-humans with superpowers but no space travel. He doesn’t really have a Job here and now, he’s just there as Obi-Wan’s plus-one. There's an underlying plot about Sidious trying to acquire people from Ninja Land, but none of the Jedi are fully aware of it. Mostly they're distracted by all the ninjas and their bitching.

They call it the Shinobi Planet, because nobody can agree on a name for the planet when they ask and the last major international alliance was named after the shinobi profession, right? Good enough, you can change it later when you idiots can agree on literally anything, oh my god. The Samurai are very offended and it's a whole thing.

Anakin wanders a lot. He runs into various strange people and is mostly polite because, listen, half his friends are distinctly not human. When your immediate circle includes nautolans and besalisks and twi’leks and whatever the fuck Yoda is, you’re not gonna blink at a Hoshigaki or... uh... okay that kid just turned into a giant fox, is anybody gonna--no? That’s normal? Just him? Cool, cool, cool.

There’s a kage summit involved in the negotiations going on. IDK what’s being negotiated, probably something to get the ninjas to set up a singular spaceport so there’s somewhere to land WITHOUT ships being regularly shot down by village defense systems powered by that massive flaming purple skeleton warrior or the girl who punched down a mountain or the.. the literal desert? There’s a guy that can control the desert? Is there any way of keeping him away from Anakin?

(Gaara’s tickled pink that the reason someone wants to stay away from him has nothing to do with fear or respect for authority, and everything to do with ‘he is also from the desert and fucking hates it, so he’s staying away from the sand powers,’ because it’s very novel and kind of funny.)

ANYWAY where was I. Uh. Right, kage summit, lots of villages, they invite smaller villages to pitch in, but nobody ever ever ever wants Orochimaru anywhere near this situation, for hopefully obvious reasons, so Otogakure sends Karin.

Really, who else was it gonna be? Suigetsu? You want Suigetsu representing you on an interstellar political field? You want Juugo before he’s stabilized? You want Sasuke, master of ruining kage summits? You want these idiots representing you at the big kids’ table?

They send Karin. She’s a bitch with a temper, but at least she’s not as big of a political risk as... literally anyone else from the snakepit.

Anyway, Anakin wanders around, meeting people, trying foods, showing off when asked for demonstrations. He doesn’t have an Entire Protocol Droid, but he did cobble together a little floating helper that can do translations for him. Assume all translations are accurate and being done by the little helper bot. Bot’s name is G1-0T. Anakin calls it Glot.

He runs into Karin at one point, who’s not super into the whole situation, but at least Anakin’s interesting. She’s not interested in him, because he’s sixteen and she’s like... mid-twenties. And his hair is stupid. But! All these force-sensitive people feel weird to her, because sensor stuff, and it’s not chakra but it’s... something. Anakin is, of course, the weirdest.

(There are non-sensitives in the envoy, so she knows it’s not just a space thing.)

She strikes up a conversation about it, because hey, she hasn’t made it this far to not lean into... you know, being the kind of person who barges ahead with Weird Questions that might lead into fun science stuff.

Anakin is like. Well. This woman’s very strange, but it’s not like there’s anything against talking about midichlorians to random people. It’s easy enough to look up in the core. Not everyone knows about them, but it’s not a secret or anything.

“Wow,” Karin says, though not in so many words, “that sounds incredibly strange, and actually a lot like it functions completely differently from chakra, though maybe it intersects with nature chakra somehow. Can I take a blood sample?”

Anakin doesn’t want to give a blood sample to a stranger. Karin isn’t stupid enough to try to steal one. She’s seen what this Force Stuff can do, and this kid’s got a lot of it. She hasn’t got enough information on hand about it to know if he’d notice.

“How about I let you look at the blood of a guy that can turn into water?” Karin asks, because she’s not going to let him look at her blood. “I’ve got it with me.”

“...why?” Anakin asks, reasonably disturbed.

“He owes me,” she says, and does not elaborate.

“What, there’s nothing weird about your blood to share?” Anakin demands, like the ornery little bastard he is.

“People took my blood against my will for over a decade,” Karin says, with the kind of smile that threatens a stabbing. This is not secret information. Her healing factor is in the bingo book. Plenty of people still want her dead. “Nobody gets my blood except me.”

Anakin has no idea what to do with that answer. Most people wouldn’t know what to do with that answer. It’s not exactly a standard answer.

“So there is something weird about your--e chu ta what the fuck are those scars?”

Karin looks at her arm. She looks back at him. She raises an eyebrow.

“What do you think they are?”

He stares a little longer, and then very carefully does not say anything as she pushes her sleeve back down.

“So can I look at your blood?” she asks again.

“Uh--”

“You can look at mine under a microscope,” she wheedles. “You can’t take any, though.”

Anakin... does eventually agree. Eventually.

-----------

There is a very angry redhead yelling at a machine, and Anakin does not know what to do.

“Is something wr--”

“What the fuck is your blood?” she demands. “It’s glowing in ultraviolet. It burned the dye up. I tried to sequence your genome--”

“Woah, I did not agree to that.”

“--and look at this. Look at this!”

“I don’t know how to read your graphs. None of this is a language I know.”

“It’s garbage,” she hisses at him. Glot takes a few moments to process it. “Look at this. This is supposed to--fuck, where’s the Jiraiya file, he’s standard--this is what it’s supposed to look like for most humans with chakra. And this is a civilian, and a few bloodline users--”

“Do you just carry these around with you?”

“Shut up, you don’t exist. You have--you have more in common with summons than people. I ran a blood test on one of your human diplomats, the ones that aren’t monks--”

“When did they agree to that?”

“They didn’t, I’m just sneaky.”

“I should tell Obi-W--”

“STAY THERE, I’M NOT DONE YELLING YET. Do you see this? Do you see this shit? This is the one and only time I’ve managed to perform any kind of analysis on a bijuu. They don’t usually have blood. Shukaku is sand. Matatabi is literally just fire. This was almost impossible to make happen, but I did it because I’m a dedicated biomedical resea--”

“Because you’re unhinged.”

“--rcher, and you know what? You know what I’ve found?”

“What?”

“Your blood looks like you’re half demon,” she says, grabbing him by the shoulders and shaking, a little wild-eyed and clearly pissed at him. “Half of it’s human! Half of it looks like the non-physical chakra manifestations that were torn-apart remnants of a godlike demon. The fuckers can’t die. They also can’t breed. They don’t have reproductive organs! This isn’t just demon-tainted like a jinchuuriki, I’ve got that analyzed--”

“Why?”

“Because my cousin’s a moron, don’t change the subject. You--you shouldn’t exist. Your blood is stupid. Fuck, is this what I’d find if I analyzed the Sage of the Six Paths?”

“The what?”

She ignores him, frowning at papers. “Is--I need to call Haruno, she might still have some of Kaguya’s blood dried on her old gloves from the war, I know she kept those as a souvenir from the whole ‘punched a god’ thing.”

“I’m sorry, the what?”

“There was a thing a few years back, godlike alien demon princess who got sealed into a moon by her sons a thousand years ago, but her immortal sentient goo child brought her back with a giant tree that consumed all the tailed beasts-the flaming fox you saw earlier is one of them--and then used a giant eyeball to reflect off the moon to put everyone in a hallucination at the same time so she could eat our life-forces,” Karin dismisses. “It’s not important.”

“There is--what?”

Jedi see many things. Many of those things are very strange.

This is a little much even for Anakin.

“It’s over, if you want the actual details, talk to my idiot cousin,” she huffs. “But now I need to run comparisons between the actual nonsense that is your entire existence and the actual nonsense that is my cousin’s existence, and maybe Sasuke’s... fuck this is going to be a mess, I’m going to have to cross-reference all the clans with bloodlines we know are derived from Kaguya, she’s the only angle we have on gods like that, unless... maybe there’s still some black Zetsu goo somewhere... Orochimaru must have kept a sample...”

“Uh, can I--can I go? I’m not comfortable here.”

“I need to find Naruto so he can call the Sage of the Six Paths out of the afterlife so I can see if I can get blood from a ghost to compare to yours.”

#Anakin Skywalker #Uzumaki Karin #Karin #Karin Uzumaki #Naruto #star wars #mini fic #Phoenix Posts #Phoenix Answers Asks #this is so stupid and I have no idea what I'm talking about #bijuu don't even have blood but Anakin's has more in common with THEM than with humans

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spencersscout · 4 years ago

Text

Candlelit

WORDCOUNT: 2k

WARNINGS: smut, fluff, angst if you squint really hard, pwp, soft dom!reader/sub!spencer, takes place w season 4 spencer, nervousness, references to past sexual conduct, my immortal style outfit descriptions?, some boobie sucking, riding, unprotected sex, creampie, implied fem reader but gendered pronouns aren’t used

“Doubt thou the stars are fire; Doubt that the sun doth move; Doubt truth to be a liar; But never doubt I love.” - William Shakespeare, Hamlet

***

February is not, by far, Spencer’s favorite month of the year. It always dredges up horrible memories, ones of looking into Tobias Hankel’s glassy cornflower blue eyes and choking on his own foamy saliva. It’s only been two years since he went into that field, all alone, abandoning protocol and all common sense. It’s only been two years, but even if he doesn’t love February, he does love you.

It’s your first valentine’s day together and Spencer is determined to make it incredible for you. He cannot afford to fall short, he must sweep you off of your feet and hopefully into his bed. He knows deep down that all he’d have to do is ask but he wants to do this romance thing properly and excite you in a way you probably haven’t been in their relationship. If you’re bothered by his inexperience, you haven’t said so and in fact, you’ve shown him over and over again that you adore teaching him how to cuddle, how to kiss, and how to make love.

You are operating under the assumption that your date is going to be low key. It will be, he knows that sparkling, dazzling restaurants with meals you can’t pronounce or pay for isn’t exactly your style. So Spencer is cooking. And it is a disaster.

Murphy’s Law states that everything that can go wrong will most definitely go wrong. So far, it has. Spencer has charred the alfredo sauce, boiled the water over onto the stove, dropped half of the pasta directly into the sink in an attempt to drain it and lightly burned his wrist for good measure. He chalks it up to his nerves. Spencer isn’t a great chef by any means, but he’s never done this badly before. Not even when you were coming over. But now it’s getting to be too late to fix it and you’re going to be here any minute and he doesn’t have any food to offer you.

As if on cue, there’s a soft knock at his front door. He stumbles through the kitchen and flings the door open, startling you where you stand on the other side. You look incredibly gorgeous, with a silky red dress draped across your figure, really emphasizing his favorite parts of you and dipping low in the front, exposing your sternum. He takes your hand and kisses the back of it gently, as if this will make up for his shortcomings on today of all days. You smile so big that your eyes crinkle and throw your arms around his neck. He brushes his nose into your shoulder, taking a deep inhale as he takes you into his arms. Your perfume smells like his favorite candle, a mixture of pomegranate and coconut. You break away from the embrace just enough to squish his cheeks gently between your palms.

“Hi, handsome,” you mumble, not looking him in the eyes but at his lips and he is happy to oblige you. Kissing you feels like the first time every single time. It makes his heart stammer in his chest and his stomach do backflips and his hands get way sweatier than they should. You press your teeth gently onto his lower lip to indicate that he should open and then you swipe your tongue along the delicate skin.

You break away and Spencer tries to follow you with his mouth, eyes still closed. He only stops when he hears you laugh, like tinkling bells, sparkling and high and pretty. You rub your thumb across his bottom lip and in response, Spencer melts into a puddle of genius goo in his doorway.

“You gonna invite me in, Doc?”

“Oh, right, sorry,” he says, without moving an inch.

Your left eyebrow quirks up and your right one furrows down. “You do realize that you will have to move so I can come in, yes?”

Spencer swallows thickly and side steps so you can brush past him in a flurry of red silk, dark eyelashes and soft perfume. You slide your cardigan-is that his?-down off of your shoulders, revealing the soft skin of your back and shoulders to him. He knows there’s nothing so intimate about skin, but something about the slightly uneven bow you’ve tied to hold the dress up and the memories he has of looking at and touching you is a little much for him.

You turn your head and catch his eye. He sees something devilish, glinting and dancing, just out of reach, and before he can say anything at all, you’re tugging on his tie and dragging him closer to you. He chose his nicest one for the occasion, burgundy, over a crisp, dark brown shirt and a cream colored vest. Penelope had helped him pick the combination out and he’s feeling a little nervous about it now, especially because it’s paired with his just-a-little-too-big khakis. He’s taller than you, even with your heels, so his neck is bent at a slightly awkward angle but he doesn’t really mind at all because your lips are brushing past his and your index finger is hooked firmly into his belt loop.

“What do you say we skip dinner for now?” You purr, almost touching the corner of his mouth with yours. He gives an emphatic nod yes and you run your thumb over his belly before tugging by the belt loop to get him impossibly closer before running your other hand down his chest. With the tightness in his slacks increasing steadily, he latches his hands onto your waist and he kisses you again, this time even more feverishly than before.

You gasp against his mouth as he digs his fingertips into the soft flesh of your hips, and he relishes in the sound. It’s his favorite one, soft and breathy and unmistakable and this time it’s Spencer who’s running his tongue along your lips to ask you to open without using his words. You do and he momentarily loses track of your hands until he finds them again, loosening his tie around his neck. You break away then, just to pant, “As gorgeous as you look right now, this has to come off.”

The heat in Spencer’s belly climbs up to his chest and he knows he’s flushed pink all over from the compliment. It still leaves him entirely shell-shocked to hear that you find him just as attractive as he finds you, so his brain completely pauses every time. He starts back up when you start back to his bedroom, intertwining your fingers with his to guide him with you.

“Wait, wait, just wait out here for just a second,” he says, as he starts to speed walk backwards. You look just a bit confused but you do as he tells you, probably more out of curiosity than anything else. Usually you’re so completely in charge of your jello-kneed boyfriend that he doesn’t even have the brain left to formulate an order.

He only leaves you in the dark for a moment before he pokes his head out of the bedroom and beckons you in. Inside, he’s lit as many candles as he was comfortable with (four) and scattered rose petals across the floor. He gave you flowers earlier today already but there’s another bouquet on his bedside table. You jut out your lower lip just a little and give him those puppy eyes just before you all but tackle him to the bed. His back thumps against his bed just hard enough to wind him a little and your mouth is on his before he can catch his breath again.

He lets out a whine that is higher pitched than he’d care to admit as your core grinds against the crotch of his pants. Your dress has ridden up your thighs and he can see just a peek of your panties, lacy and white and sheer and he’s trying to reach up to untie the dress so he can fully see but you pin his hands down.

“You first, Doc.” He’s fumbling to undo his buttons-why are there so many buttons?- and somehow even though you’re both tugging at his clothes, they aren’t coming off nearly fast enough. And you’re getting a little impatient so you reach up to untie the back of your own dress and tug the front down to expose your breasts. He abandons his own clothing, vest off, shirt half unbuttoned and pants halfway down in favor of taking one of your breasts into his mouth and sucking at your nipple just to hear the sounds you make. He takes the other one in his palm to knead at the soft skin and rests his other hand on the small of your back to pull you as close as physically possible.

You pull away just enough to tug your dress the rest of the way off and he whimpers at the sight of you, naked except for panties clearly damp with arousal, your nipples flushed. You rest your palm on his exposed chest, digging your nails into his skin just hard enough to sting but not hard enough to hurt.

“I-I, I need you. Now. Please?” Spencer breathes and even though he normally would take his time warming you up, getting you stretched, he knows he can’t handle it right now. It’s too good and it’ll be over before you get to the main event. You tug your panties to one side and tug his waistband down to allow his cock, aching and drooling, to peek out. It hits his stomach with a light thwick but he doesn’t even have time to acknowledge it before you’re sinking down on him, hissing at the stretch.

Spencer pulls you in for another kiss, this one sloppy and breathy as you both gasp against each other’s mouths. You roll your hips and he hangs onto you for dear life, groaning so loudly that he feels sorry for his neighbors. It won’t be long. He’s close.

“I’m close, please-” Spencer chokes out.

“I am too, baby, it’s okay, come on,” you groan as you steady yourself even more firmly against his chest. The sounds your bodies are making together are obscene, skin slapping and sliding together.

“I don’t, I’m gonna, we didn’t-” Spencer is trying to tell you that it’s now and he can’t stop it from happening but he’s not wearing a condom but the words keep getting lost from him, his voice thick and heavy.

“It’s okay, I’m on the pill just,” you grab his hand, guiding him to your panties. He knows what you want, so he pulls them even farther, probably stretching them so bad you won’t be able to wear them again, and clumsily thumbs at your clit in that not quite circular motion you like. He feels your orgasm first, pulsing and fluttering around him but then he can’t pay attention to you anymore because he’s spilling over inside of you and stopping you from moving so he can hold you as tightly as he possibly can. He lets his head fall back with his eyes closed for just a moment and you take the opportunity to slide off of his now spent cock and curl into his side, placing a gentle hand on his cheek and stroking it with your thumb.

“I love you,” he mumbles, eyes still closed.

“I love you too.”

“I burned dinner.”

“I know. Do you wanna call in some pizza while I pee?”

“Yeah, sure.” He opens his eyes to look at you, pupils blown, mouth swollen and makeup smeared, and he never ever wants to let you go. You seem to see it in his face, so you kiss his knuckles and say, “I’ll be right back. Then I’m all yours.”

***

“We loved with a love that was more than love.” - Edgar Allen Poe, Annabel Lee

#valentine's special #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #sub spencer reid #spencer reid smut #smut

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zuluc · 3 years ago

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1am thoughts let’s goo taken inspo from an ask i got a few months ago that i have to find again

adeptus xiao had lost many of his friends during the archon war, years and years before coming to the time he resides at wangshu inn. he’s fine, content, okay in his isolation, but there’s that feeling he’s carried with him for centuries. a feeling that he can’t get rid of because he can’t heal it. a feeling of loneliness that is only cured by making connections to those he meets.

but what point does it have once those he cherishes will go as quickly as the others went? they may be mortal or immortal, but it doesn’t change the possibilities. so he says nothing. creates no relation to anyone.

the traveler comes and he’s most certain they aren’t even human or at least of a human life-span. they’re much older than they look and the aura they give off is one of experience through countless places not limited to the bounds of Teyvat. he makes an exception here.

but to his surprise, there is one other person he never would have thought to see again. after the war, the disappearances of many he held close was something he has to accept. but your was the most difficult.

hailing as another adepti, though not a yaksha, under Rex Lapis you too fought the war with the strength you could provide. a dendro user you were, one connected to the nature of the earth, hurt by the destruction against the once blossoming fields. your protection and persistence with life aided your fight and helped your companions.

though you fell. you fell down onto the earth after a blow unseen by you or your comrades. it knocked out all your fight and stunned your senses until all you could feel was the field burning in the aftermath. the last you could see before your senses faded was a hue of jade and the color of golden irises.

xiao had known you the longest. you were someone special to him, especially after Rex Lapis had taken him in. he felt his, for a lack of a better term, youth in some ways return to him. you were a delight and he found himself seeking your presence almost everyday whether that be for a walk, a spar, or simply company. your vision provided you with the ability of plants and nature to which you took it upon yourself to jokingly make him flower crowns. he wore them proudly without any insistence.

now he could have nothing more with you after this and he was devastated.

and then you woke, but you were unsure how much time had passed. clues were given about from the new grass you could feel under your fingertips and the sounds from the clear blue waters below. your gaze trickles down to confirm the streams but also the distance to which you were from the actual ground.

you’re on a mountaintop it seems, isolated in your own little area. you look up to see birds soaring in circles on the higher tops and a beacon of light shining into the sky. surely, this was still home? despite not knowing the passage of time there were still aspects of the geography you were familiar with. your brain racks itself for anything really until your hand grazes something behind you.

you turn and feel the petals of a qingxin flower.

a smile subconsciously grazes your lips at the thought of that activity and the memories associated with a particularly stoic male and his adorable accessory. but that feeling of joy also sparks a feeling of worry.

was he alright? did he live? what about the others? ganyu, rex lapis? where were they? you, of course, were still unsure of your own life coming back but thanking the archons in the moment was all you could do.

regardless, you had to find him, right?

your question answers itself when a gust of wind passes by you. in a split second you are startled by the image of him, his mask and all. you’re tempted to reach out and touch it but you’d hate to feel nothing at all. maybe it was better to see but you swear he’s standing in front of you right now. what a mean trick your mind decided to play. it wouldn’t be that easy.

it was easier than he had thought. the waiting game was one xiao had to play for a long time and he had no choice but to continue its run. during his patrols, he has the small thought to look out for anything more green than it should be, perhaps, a shining green vision, or a polearm similar to his own. wishful thinking has never been one of his strong suits.

being realistic was. his search to find anyone he knew had come to an end years ago, but there was a shift in the atmosphere he most certainly could not ignore. not when it felt like you. so he acted, he rushed, he flew to wherever it was and found it.

so he reaches out to cup your face and relief, agony, and sorrow wash over him in intense waves. your face is warm through his gloves but he doesn’t blink, afraid you’ll leave his sights all too soon.

so you reach out as well, your hand placed on the mask to carefully pull it aside. underneath, you melt at the golden irises you’ve always adored. tears burn behind your eyes but you don’t care. not when you are certain he is here and certain that he’s alright.

xiao leans forward, sending his spear away so he can hold you with both hands, pressing his forehead to yours before finally closing his eyes.

i missed you.

#late night thoughts #this was longer than i thought #there might be typos but ignore them pls #i will expand #i’ll put this here to remember to write it haha #genshin impact #xiao x reader #wth i have all these ideas at 1 am when i need to do my hw 😀#im in an angst to fluff mood 25/8 #will have more depth im just tired

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darthkvznblogs · 3 years ago

Note

Do the gems know about the Life Core technology of the Akiridions? I imagine they see them as a "cheap imitation" of them. What do the different factions and empires of the galaxy think about gemkind and The Diamond Authority, with all the "immortals that drain life from the planets"

I think Yellow Diamond personally hates that organics invented Life Core tech and she can't believe Blue Diamond allowed it to happen, but her hands are tied; White doesn't seem to care, Blue's wallowing in grief still, and with the absolute imperative of expansion and Gem production over all else, Yellow can't afford to waste time chasing down Life Core users, let alone waging war against the Nova Empire for their use of the tech.

I think the people of the Milky Way are generally wary of Gems, but don't consider them too big of a threat; they're like a grey goo phenomenon in slow motion - sure, they might eventually consume all matter in the universe, but they've only gained a few thousand light years' worth of territory in thousands of years. Individual Gems, too, are so rare outside of Gem space (as they're likely to be rogues, which are sometimes hunted down by Homeworld assassins) that it's hard for the average galactic citizen to have much experience with them, let alone an informed opinion. Truth be told, I think it'd be really hard for most people to even grasp how vast the Gem population and how all-consuming their expansion is. To give you some perspective, there are more Rubies alone than there are sentient beings in the Nova Empire.

Obviously, as the Kree are actively at war with Homeworld, they're overall more negative on their presence than the Nova Empire, or even the inhabitants of Wild Space, even though Gem territory is slowly eating into the latter.

#ask box #anon ask #kryptonverse #steven universe

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mistahgrundy · 4 years ago

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If you’re new here this is a reminder that my main thing I do is my own webcomic named String Theory. It, unfortunately, had quite a lengthy hiatus that just ended due to various real life stuff I don’t want to talk about.

Instead here’s a handy dandy primer for new and old!

Comic is about this butthole:

I’ve been drawing this comic for over ten years so he used to look like this.

Dr. Schtein was a little baby child genius that graduated from college with a doctorate super early and then proceeded to just sort of flounder and do nothing of importance but still maintain a “look at me I was a child genius” chip on his shoulder. He had a massive drinking problem. Still has a smoking problem and a drug problem (though these aren’t as bad as his drinking was). The substance abuse problems really ramped up (they were already there) after his wife left him about 13 years prior to the comic starting. If you do the math he got married when he was 20. Which is. not usually the best idea. I mean hey it can work out, but it did not for Dr. Schtein. He was divorced about two months into the marriage. He’d just turned 21.

Anyway he’s made some dumbass decisions that landed him in prison for most of a year recently. He pissed off the wrong people and he was being held without charges and everyone on the outside believed he was dead. He’s now out and about and kinda mad about it!

He’s in love with this woman, Delia Osgood, even though she’s 11 years his junior and frankly isn’t sure how she really feels about him. Also she could kick his ass.

Delia is also a physicist, but hasn’t finished her doctorate yet. She’s currently working in a crime lab for a super secret project for the government.

Delia moved to the US when she was in her late teens from London. Her mother is a librarian and her father is a former boxer, Winston Osgood. She has two brothers and one sister. She loves trashy metal and trashy romance books. She’s prone to making bad decisions in the romance department.

Phineas is a serial killer who’s been enployed by the mob in the past and present. While he was in prison Dr. Schtein met THIS horrible asshole. Unfortunately their lives are now a little bit intertwined. Schtein would really rather they weren’t, Phineas is of no use to him, but he’s the son in law of the guy Dr. Schtein is super fucking mad at, the guy who’s been screwing with his life for a year, so they’re going to keep bumping into each other.

Phineas is really obsessed with getting his wife back, who he hadn’t seen for a decade before recently as they were incarcerated separately. He’s not really capable of love, but he thinks of her as HIS.

This is Dr. Schtein’s best friend, Laurence, they’ve known each other since college. You’d think given the age difference that Laurence would have taken on the mentor role to the younger Schtein, but Laurence ended up being in the more submissive role, letting Schtein bully him into situations he would have normally avoided. They were not good influences on each other at all. They still aren’t, but they’re all each other has.

Laurence dropped out of college after Schtein graduated early and joined the navy (where he got those gnarly leg scars). From there he was kicked out, did a little bit of time in a military psych ward and then was homeless for a few years. He managed to get off the street working his way up the crime ladder, petty crimes, sex work, protection jobs, then working for Eliza Thanatos and then finally for her father, Darius. He was recently fired from that, so he’s at a bit of a low point right now.

Orville von Schtein, Dr. Schtein’s grandfather, who used to be a really respected geneticist. He did a lot of work for the government, he helped cure a virus that was destroying the US, after that he was working in a secret lab creating super spies for the country. He managed to create a handful before the project was scrapped and deemed irresponsible. These would be Cain and Abel, and the less powerful Judith (the frog lady), Eli (the disgusting goo guy), Frank (fire guy), Darren (lightning dude), and others who likely won’t be in the comic only mentioned here and there (a few of them are dead)

Orville’s weirdly sentimental and attached to these people, thinking of them as his own children. Which is odd since he basically put them through hell. The treatments to make them how they are were not pleasant. Judith thinks of him like a father, so with at least one of them the feeling is mutual. Abel extremely hates Orville and is genuinely scared of him.

After that he was working for a company in Chicago on some kind of weird ass fungus that was supposed to have therapeutic properties when he realized he was being framed for something within the company and he flipped his lid and released a modified version of the fungus killing almost the entire city (which was quarantined before the fungus could infect more people) and transforming himself into some kind of mycological lich. He is now basically immortal and having been alone for over 15 years isn’t too mentally stable.

He has recently left Chicago.

Darius Thanatos has been trying to get Orville to come work for him for YEARS now, Orville has been refusing until recently.

Darius Thanatos is pulling a lot of the strings behind the comic, he employs Abel, He’s the one who had Dr. Schtein busted out of the prison he’d been funding. Funding intended to funnel prisoners into his secret research labs as his own scientists futilely attempted to recreate Orville’s work.

Darius is a former mobster who owns a private security company. That’s the public friendly cover, anyway. His company supplies cities and businesses with police forces, does weapons research and manufacture, crowd control, you name it.

He has three children, Denise, Eugene, and Eliza (the baby of the kids). He’s not the world’s greatest father. His wife has been separated from him for over ten years, she lives in Rome. Denise’s mother, his previous wife, is long deceased.

Darius’ health is failing.

#what a big ass post

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thebibliomancer · 4 years ago

Text

Archaia’s Jim Henson’s The Dark Crystal Age of Resistance #10

The Journey into the Mondo Levidian Part 2

The true untold tale of All-Maudra Mayrin’s inaugural adventure!

Well, untold in the show. Comic is telling plenty.

In part one, Mayrin becomes All-Maudra and has plenty of unresolved mother issues and insecurity about it. Her first crisis is the growing Sifan separatist movement which threatens to shatter Gelfling solidarity and make her more of a Most-Maudra. She charters a ride with Captain Kam’Lu to go speak to the separatist leader Fenth but the ship goes and sinks.

So far we’ve had a journey so far but not into or Mondo Levidian. We probably should get around to that soon. There’s only three issues left.

So let’s get started!

When the ship sank, Mayrin jumped overboard to save Kam’Lu. Now they’re stranded in the middle of the ocean on a raft.

Mayrin is insistent that they try to find and save the crew of the Scalene Anchor and also Dot. Kam’Lu is equally insistent that No That’s A Terrible Idea. They have no food, no water, and no hope of survival unless they’re lucky enough to find land. They’re in no position to rescue anyone else. Plus...

There are political considerations.

Kam’Lu: “If the other clans believe the Sifans killed the All-Maudra, we’ll never be trusted again.”

He also mentions that Fenth predicted that THIS EXACT SITUATION might happen if the All-Maudra intervened in the Sifan separatist movement.

Huh.

Speaking of Fenth, the plot cuts over to him for a bit.

He learns of the sinking the Scalene Anchor and the presumed death of the New-All-Maudra and thinks hey, its free real estate.

High Councilor Fenth: “That means... There’s no one in line for the All-Maudra’s throne! The seat is vacant!”

skekSa: “How... fortunate! Haha! Ha! Haha! You wanted autonomy for the Sifans! Freedom from the greedy hands of the Vapra clan, yes? That is why honored me with this grand tithing -- to enlist my immortal aid? I am the only one who is sympathetic to your cause. That is why the Skeksis are here. To help Gelfling lead...!”

Call it a shot in the dark but I feel like skekSa was involved in the suspicious sea monster sinking of the Scalene Anchor.

Of course, she’ll probably get away with it. It’d spoil the surprise too early if a Skeksis was caught doing an evil scheme.

Also, look at the ambition on Fenth. Grows up in a matriarchy where clan leaders are always women, where the word for clan leader means ‘clan mother’ and thinks to himself ‘psssh i can do that.’ Good on him. Dream big, guy.

Back over with our mismatched comedy duo, as all Dark Crystal stories must have, Mayrin and Kam’Lu have some mismatched comedy duo banter.

Like her criticizing him for not being able to find land despite being a captain of a ship. And then immediately spotting land while he’s indignantly defending his credentials.

Or her maligning his swimming abilities since he fell off a boat and got knocked unconscious and had to be saved from drowning by her.

So he decides to turn this into a swimming contest, winner gets to be All-Maudra.

Good fun.

Just how I like my Gelfling buddy comedies.

Of course, its all fun and games until the island turns out to be a sea monster that eats them.

And it turns out that the island is a sea monster that eats them.

A mondo levidian, if I had to guess.

Giant turtles passing as landscape. Giant monsters being mistaken for islands. This comic series is too good to me.

So the two slide down the mondo levidian’s throat (gross) MANAGING TO BICKER ON THE WAY DOWN!

Kam’Lu: “Don’t you have wings?!”

Mayrin: “They don’t work well when they’re wet!”

Amazing.

They slide and slorp and flump all the way down to presumably the stomach.

But as they stop to rest, they realize they’re not alone.

Sulub: “Yer some kinda fishie-fish I ain’t ever seen! Betchur tasty! Anyway! No wrigglin’ while I kill ya good!”

OH MY GOD

This comic series is too good to me.

Look at this delightful podling crabtaur.

Once Kam’Lu proves immune to Sulub’s “advanced technology” (ie Sulub stabs Kam’Lu in the foot with a spear), the podcrab agrees to take the two Gelfling to see his village elder.

Sulub actually assumes that Mayrin and Kam’Lu are married and here on honeymoon at the thriving fish digestive system tourism industry I guess. Mayrin claims that Kam’Lu is just a fool and her servant (and Kam’Lu doesn’t speak Podling very well so has no idea about this) and introduces herself as the All-Maudra.

Sulub: “ALL-MAUDRA! The legendary All-Maudra! Well, why didn’t ya say so! Sulub is gilltickled and downright honored to lead ‘the all-powerful and all-knowing’ All-Maudra to our home. You’ll be enjoyin’ to know we’ve kept care of your most regal gifts! Still in pristine condition for havin’ come in a while ago!”

The gut city of Bajula has a statue of the previous All-Maudra, one apparently commissioned when Mayrin was baby.

Huh.

Well. Its helpful to Mayrin that they know about the All-Maudra and are excited to have her here. And that they’re assuming that she sent the statue ahead of herself, like luggage.

Sulub tours Mayrin and Kam’Lu around Bajula. Showing them the goo farms, the visitor center, the fermented... milk wine bar.

The king shows up and is disappointed that the Gelfling want to leave so soon into their visit and asks if Sulub even bothered to show them the goo farms!

But since Mayrin insists that they have important outside stuff to do outside, the king decides to rush through some exposition.

These podling crabs? They’re called Boblings.

Bobling King: “Thousands of trine ago, my tribe set out to explore the Silver Sea as proud, stalwart Podlings! Our regal forefathers were not known to swim, but their bravery was unmatched, and they set out to conquer everything they discovered! All those who would get in their way would be destroyed by the might of the Podlings! Yet there are creatures in this world that are mightier, and the Mondo Leviadin emerged from the Silver Sea and devoured their ships. Thousands of digestive cycles passed as we changed to better suit our new home. Our new world.”

An unstoppable army of Podlings sounds funny until you remember how awesome Hup is. The Mono Levidian may have spared the peoples of Thra a tragic fate.

Also, I’m a big impressed at the lack of linguistic drift. Thousands of trine and Bobling language is indistinguishable from Podling and Gelfling is still recognizable.

Kam’Lu gets fed up with the Bobling King and starts yelling that he’s cold, he’s hungry, he doesn’t want to be in a fish’s guts! Mayrin manages to convince the king by speaking of duty.

Bobling King: “You speak of duty. I know it well. As a leader of my kind, I would do anything for their survival. So yes, I will help you and your servant. Why you married him, I will never know.”

Kam’Lu: “Her what? We’re what?!”

Hah, that misunderstanding is paying dividends.

The king explains that the levidian only surfaces to feed once per trine and that it stays near the surface for a time after feeding.

So if Mayrin and Kam’Lu don’t get to the porticol (blowhole) within eight or so intestinal groans (.... hours??), they’ll be stuck until next trine.

WHICH IS GOING TO BE REAL BAD FOR MAYRIN’S CAREER.

Even though the Boblings are but a simple goo-farming people, the king sends his daughter Gunda, the most skilled hunter in Bajula, to escort them.

Gunda: “But father, the journey as never been done by a single Bobling. You send me into certain danger!”

King: “And do you not crave danger?! My daughter, you are the only one capable and brave enough to undertake such a quest! Please! A duty for your king!”

Gunda: “So be it. I will guide you to the porticol, but know that it is dangerous and uncharted. There are many creatures that call this place home. We must be vigilant. Stalwart. Like my podling ancestors!”

This is a fun little bit because it implies a life and experiences and that these Boblings haven’t just been sitting waiting for protagonists to show up. I mean, they also have been doing that. They have a visitor center set up. But they’ve been living their own dramas.

And off they go! Mayrin, Kam’Lu, and Gunda! On a grand journey to a giant sea monster’s blowhole!

Wait, is this thing a mammal?

So that’s issue 2.

We’re finally in the Mondo Levidian. And now all the protagonists want is to get out. So we’ve got the title, we’ve got an objective, we’ve got some fun side cast, we’ve got a ticking clock before Mayrin and Kam’Lu have to look at the sea monster gut apartment listings, and we’ve got some outside stakes!

Mayrin continues to impress. There’s even a moment right when Kam’Lu rouses after the shipwreck where he seems in awe of her confidence in a crisis.

Kam’Lu has his own personality now that’s not parroting Fenth. Its being a butt monkey, with a slight shade of being a little shit. Between Mayrin giving him shit for supposedly being bad at sailor stuff to getting stabbed in the foot by Boblings twice to being mistaken for Mayrin’s servant-husband, Kam’Lu is having a trying adventure. Plus his ship sank and all of his friends may be dead and if they fail to escape the Mondo Levidian, he’ll go down in history as the idiot that got an All-Maudra killed.

Poor guy.

Gunda has only had two pages to shine and she seems endearing! But it feels weird that Sulub isn’t coming along. He’s the introductory Bobling and all. But I guess speaking only Podling would be an impediment to interacting with Kam’Lu. Still, its weird that he just seems to fade out of the story once the king shows up.

Farewell, Sulub, you funky crab potato.

#dark crystal #the dark crystal #dark crystal age of resistance #Archaia's dark crystal #a prequel to a prequel #All Maudra Mayrin #Captain Kam'Lu #skekSa #the Mariner #Sulub the Bobling #Gunda the Bobling #Bobling King the Bobling

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kuphulwho · 4 years ago

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Mechamorph Headcanons

Because I have thoughts.

- It’s a common misconception that Mechamorphs can’t see in full color. As seen here, that definitely isn’t the case at all.

- Green isn’t the only color that Mechamorphs come in. While they always have a black base, their markings can be pretty much any color, and these markings can take on a wide variety of shapes. Solid black Mechamorphs are very rare, and only occur when a dead Mechamorph is brought back to life after a significant amount of time has passed post-mortem. Essentially, it can be said that the color has drained from their bodies at this point.

- Since Mechamorphs can shapeshift, they can make aesthetic changes to their bodies at will. They can give themselves spikes, form their goo in a way that somewhat resembles hair, make their markings glow brightly, etcetera.

- A normal, healthy Mechamorph’s markings will have a soft glow to them when awake, and this glow is especially noticeable in the dark. Their bodies are also shiny and somewhat reflective, as demonstrated in DAA. This glow only fades when a Mechamorph is asleep, although they may flicker a bit if they are having a dream. If a Mechamorph who is awake has a diminished shine, reflectiveness, and glow, then they are probably sick.

- When a Mechamorph is flustered, their markings will often glow brighter on their own accord, pretty much their own version of blushing. Conversely, though, if it’s only their optic that is glowing, then it is typically a sign of aggression.

- In original series popup trivia, Mechamorphs have biomechanical blood, which can be energized to create their trademark optic beam. This blood is always the same color as the Mechamorph’s markings, and so is their optic beam.

- Mechamorphs are borderline immortal. They can only die of unnatural causes. Even a techno-organic virus won’t kill them. With the right treatment, they’ll just behave and function strangely until the virus has run its course. While electricity, magnetic fields, and excessive stretching can definitely hurt them, it’s never enough to actually kill them. According to original series comics, one of the few things that can legitimately kill a Mechamorph is acid. And, according to DJW, extreme heat is another one of the few things that can kill them, with lava being given as an example. Plain old fire, however, isn’t enough to kill them. As demonstrated by Malware, this doesn’t even make them flinch. And speaking of Malware, his unique abilities are also one of the few things that can kill a Mechamorph, but that can still be reversed with quick enough intervention.

- As said before, Mechamorphs have an incredible resistance to heat (although this does still have its limits), but it goes both ways. They are also very resistant to cold. In fact, while a hot enough temperature can kill a Mechamorph, a cold enough temperature will only put them into a hibernative state until they’re able to warm up again. They can actually use their resistance to both temperature extremes to their advantage. Being made of living metal, not only can they touch you with obscenely cold hands if they’ve been out in the cold long enough, but they can also become walking weapons if they’ve been out in the heat long enough. If you know how hot metal in the summer feels, then you have an idea of what it would feel like if a Mechamorph that’s been in the heat for an extended period of time were to touch you.

- Mechamorphs, even though do they do favor bipedal movement most of the time, are fully capable of running on all fours. Both Upgrade and Malware have been seen doing this at some point.

- Mechamorphs can auto-tune their own voices. This ability, naturally, makes them formidable singers. However, Mechamorphs going through puberty often lose control of this for a while, speaking in auto-tune when not intending to. Mechamorphs can also fully understand and communicate in binary code.

- Eating and drinking are things that are very ill-advised for Mechamorphs. Their bodies are not designed to do so. As such, should they try, their body will inevitably react to whatever was consumed as if it were a foreign body. This can be seen happening with Baz-l in Eye of the Beholder.

- Yes, Mechamorphs legitimately t-pose as a display of dominance and/or defiance. This is backed up by canon, by the way.

- Mechamorphs can be aquatic if they choose to do so. Much like Piscciss Volann, they can shift an aquatic tail. Additionally, they don’t need to breathe, they’re resistant to temperature extremes, and there’s a good chance that they’re resistant to water pressure, at least to an extent.

- While Mechamorphs don’t have a default physical sex, they do at least understand the concept of gender. Some are male, some female, some nonbinary, and some agender. When it comes to intercourse and reproduction, Mechamorphs can form whatever reproductive organs are needed in order to carry it out.

- Because Mechamorphs have no default physical sex, any two Mechamorphs of any gender can produce offspring together. A single Mechamorph can also produce a child of their own asexually.

- Surprisingly, Mechamorphs can actually reproduce with other species, because they’re techno-organic. However, interspecies reproduction with Mechamorphs typically leads to either-or offspring in most cases, with the offspring most closely resembling the species of the dam. This is because proper meshing can’t really happen most of the time. Hybrid offspring where the Mechamorph was their dam tend to be more flexible in that regard, though.

- Because Mechamorph dams in an interspecies relationship would be at a significant disadvantage during a pregnancy atypical to their species, they have developed a method of carrying it out quickly. Essentially, an egg-shaped pod, large enough to support the developing fetus, starts forming in the dam’s body upon successful conception that is, on average, birthed between one and two weeks after conception. While no incubation is really needed for the pod to eventually “hatch,” incubating it can definitely speed the process up. The aforementioned pregnancy disadvantages include more limited shapeshifting and an inability to fully merge with technology.

- Should the non-Mechamorph be the dam in an interspecies relationship, they’ll simply carry out the pregnancy as normal for their species. However, getting them pregnant to begin with takes a lot of tries the vast majority of the time, more than what is usually typical of their species. An interesting quirk can be seen in this situation as well. Basically, if the non-Mechamorph parent is the dam, then any resulting offspring will always be female. This is because, while Mechamorphs do have some kind of equivalent to sex chromosomes, they’re more of a stand-in than anything, seeing as they don’t have a default physical sex. As such, when it comes to sex determination, even though there’s another sex chromosome there, the fetus only has their dam’s X chromosome to go on, so it ends up defaulting to female.

- Conversely, it is much easier for two Mechamorphs to reproduce with each other. In fact, many would say that it is almost too easy, with there being no real effective way of preventing it. After copulation, there is a significant chance of an infant extruding from the body of the dam afterwards. This can happen anywhere from just a few days later, to several months later. Unlike with pod production, pregnant Mechamorphs in this situation suffer no limitations to their shapeshifting and tech merging abilities. Should a single Mechamorph wish to asexually reproduce in this manner, though, it cannot happen by accident. They must consciously decide to do this.

- Another way that Mechmorphs can reproduce is by spawning animalistic symbiotes, like Ship. Unlike typical sexual and asexual reproduction, though, the spawning of a symbiote is something that always happens instantaneously, rather than sometime later.

- Baby Mechamorphs are called bytes. They start out resembling Ship, with a “tail” in place of their legs and little nubs for arms. Unlike human infants, they are actually able to hold their head up from birth. Shortly after they start crawling, their tail turns into a blob that they use to start practicing upright movement. At this point, their arms become a little more defined as well. Eventually, this blob will split into a pair of legs, and proper hands and fingers should appear. By now, a byte is considered to be a toddler. Symbiotes, meanwhile, typically remain a similar shape to that they were born with for their entire lives.

- Mechamorphs don’t typically wear clothes, so how do they carry their infants around without carriers, slings, or anything of that nature? Well, before their legs develop and they start learning to walk, bytes are carried around in a pouch that is shapeshifted by one of their parents. Because they don’t need to breathe, bytes are capable of remaining in these pouches indefinitely, although they are still taken out of the pouch when they don’t need to be in it, or they just really want out. This pouch can also be used to incubate pods.

- Marking/blood/optic beam color heredity can be a trip and a half. For example, the possible colors from two green Mechamorphs reproducing, or a single green Mechamorph reproducing asexually, are green, yellow-green, blue-green, yellow, and blue. This is because green is a secondary color, and these are the colors that make up green. Conversely, let’s say that you either have two red Mechamorphs reproducing, or a single red Mechamorph reproducing asexually. Since red is a primary color, there aren’t as many color possibilities. The only real possibilities here are shades of red, including pink. However, when two Mechamorphs of different primary colors reproduce, using red and blue as an example, the possible colors are red, blue, purple, red-purple, and blue-purple. Additionally, there are a whole slew of possible colors when two Mechamorphs of differing secondary colors reproduce. For example, the possible colors when a purple and green Mechamorph reproduce are red, blue, yellow, green, purple, orange, yellow-orange, yellow-green, blue-green, blue-purple, and red-purple, pretty much every color of the rainbow. Mechamorph parents of differing tertiary colors are just as volatile. Finally, when a white Mechamorph reproduces with any Mechamorph that isn’t white, the possible colors are white, whatever color the other parent is, and a lighter shade of whatever color the other parent is. Meanwhile, when solid black Mechmamorphs produce offspring, they go by the rules of whatever color it was that they used to be. Yes, these facts of marking/blood/optic beam color heredity have been used to detect infidelity before.

#ben 10 #thinkythunk

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wingsofkpop · 4 years ago

Text

Hiraeth - I.I: Stay

pairing(s): Hybrid!Im Jaebeom x Reader, Witch!Mark Tuan x Reader, Werewolf!Jackson Wang x Reader, Vampire!Park Jinyoung x Reader, Supernatural!Got7 x Reader

genre: Supernatual!AU, Dark Magic!AU, Angst, eventual Smut

warning(s): Mature languages, descriptions of death and murder, violence, graphic depictions of fighting, blood and gore, mentions of traumatic experiences, etc.

word count: 6k

synopsis: How far are you willing to go to find out the truth about Moon Dye Bay?...

chapter directory

Once upon a time there was a lone seamstress who lived inside a little house in the woods. Few knew of her existence, and even fewer knew of her name, for outside the safety of the forest, the world and its inhabitants were cruel and corrupt. To relieve the weight of her loneliness, the seamstress sat on her roof every night to speak to the moon as it traveled across the black sky. She spoke to the moon about everything, from the rushing of the river current after a spell of rain to the plumpness of the round, ripe peaches that arrived in the summer, and when she ran out of elements of reality, she turned to ones of fantasy instead. She told the moon stories of massive dragons who breathed butterflies with wings of jewels instead of fire and planets where the seas were composed of golden honey and tall mountains of glass.

The moon fell in love with the seamstress and her fairy tales, for she was just as keen for a companion. She loved the seamstress so much that one night per cycle, when the ocean tides were at their lowest, she would leave her nightly perch and join the seamstress on her roof. No one knew of the true nature of their relationship, whether they were friends, lovers, soulmates, but that did not matter, for the moon loved the seamstress, and the seamstress loved the moon in return.

In order to show her love, the moon gifted the seamstress one of her brightest stars from the night sky. Upon consuming the star, the seamstress was blessed with abilities beyond imaginable: Gifts to heal creatures long past the point of decay. Talents in skill, wit and knowledge that surpassed the most brilliant scholars. And most notably, the miracle of eternal life.

Outsiders soon caught word of the immortal seamstress who lived in the little house in the wood, and some sought to steal her and the moon’s power for their own gain. On a night when the moon was at its fullest, a band of malicious villagers stormed the seamstress’s home right on the very roof where she sat. The moon, unable to intervene, watched the villagers kill the one she loved. In a final attempt to best the attackers, the moon shattered the seamstress’s soul into pieces, which had become one with the star, and scattered them across the world. To this day, the ruins of the seamstress’s house still stands deep within the forests of time. On nights when the moon disappears from the night sky, some say that if one listens close enough, sobs and wails can be heard from the roof of the little home where the moon mourns her lost companion.

Many have tried, but it is impossible to gather enough shards of the seamstress’s spirit to recreate the full power of the gifted star. It is said a piece of her soul resides inside all of us. Though in some, the magic is more prominent than others…

☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

“—and then she started getting all defensive over it.” You hold back a sigh at Jihyo’s huff, not desiring to make your roommate and close friend aware that her over-the-phone rant is draining what little sanity remains within your mind. To be honest, you actually lost track of the conversation a couple blocks back, and have little clue over who she’s complaining about. Probably yet another one of Sana’s douchebag crushes “Like, I get you like him and all, but the dude’s literally an asshole. I mean, he’s stood her up how many goddamn times, and not to mention, the whole thing with Chaeyoung—

“(Y/N)? Are you even listening?” You immediately snap from whatever headspace your consciousness slipped into at the change in Jihyo’s tone. Your hand raises to wipe the drowsiness of a twelve-plus-hour day from your eyes as you speak for the first time since you left the university:

“Not really, honestly.” You finally release the breath in your lungs, “It’s… It’s been a long day.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Jihyo scolds, “You know you’re free to hang up on me anytime I get too fired up. Or at least snap me out of it.”

“I know,” You peer at both sides of the street before making your way across, pulling your jacket tighter around your body to fight the chilly, night air. “Like I said, it’s just been a long day.”

“You can tell me all about it over some take-out, sound good?”

“Sounds great. I haven’t eaten much today.”

Jihyo’s grumble emerges over the line, earning an amused chuckle from your own chest. You can hear her yell something to most likely Sana, your other roommate, in the background before returning with yet another scold, “You’re in serious trouble now, (Y/N) (L/N). What have we said about skipping meals?”

“I was busy today!” You protest, unable to hold back the smile that spreads along your lips at your friend’s mother-like nagging.

“That is no excuse!” A couple muffled sounds carry over the line, along with a hushed, inaudible conversation between Jihyo and another person. You cross another street and round the corner, preparing to cut through your usual shortcut to your apartment building, when Jihyo finally returns, “I hope you’re okay with Thai because apparently Sana’s going to die if she doesn’t get her Mango Sticky Rice...”

“I’m okay with that. You know my usual?”

“Do you know who you’re talking to?”

You chuckle, “Fair enough. I’ve got maybe another ten minutes until I’m home. Try not to let Sana eat all the food before I get there.”

“No promises. See you soon, babe.”

You hum a wordless farewell in response before lowering your phone from your ear to end the call. Without the buzz of the line and your friend’s voice to fill the silence, you finally notice how quiet and empty the streets seem. During the hours of the day, the town is usually packed with people meandering out and about in the bay’s usual nice weather. Without the sunshine, however, the nights can get rather cold, and by missing your bus, you’re experiencing that fact firsthand.

You can feel goosebumps emerging across your skin underneath your clothing as you traverse further down the path, a flickering, lone streetlamp your only guide through the darkness. The alleyway in which you usually cut through gapes on your left, but before you enter the narrow passage, you pause to peer over your shoulder. While it wouldn’t be the first time your paranoia has emerged for little reason, considering your track record of life experiences, the sight of shadows and stillness does nothing to ease the eerie sensations creeping along the back of your neck.

Passing the strange feeling off to the cold, you finally step into the pitch black of the alleyway, taking quicker and longer steps out of pure instinct. You pilfer through your bag, wanting to find your phone again to light your path, but as per usual, it seems to have dropped to the very bottom of the bag’s contents. A silent groan rumbles from your chest at the discovery that you’ll have to continue through the dark, or at least until you reach the opposite end of the alley. Hopefully there’s no rats or bats or—

Your entire body jumps at a loud clatter that sounds from behind. You quickly pivot on your heel to investigate the sudden noise, finding nothing but darkness, darkness and more darkness.

“H-Hello?” Your call bounces between the brick walls of the alleyway, echoing back inside your ears. You swallow, with your throat as tight as your chest, and call again. The only sound that answers is the violent racing of your pulse and your shaky breaths. Clutching your bag closer to your chest, you begin to walk backwards while keeping your eyes trained toward the entrance you only moments before came through. The idea seems ideal, that is, until your foot catches a divot and your form collapses onto the pavement.

It takes you a moment to recover from the fall, but you’re quick to grab one of the stiletto heels from your foot and arm yourself with as best a means of defense as you can manage. You carefully rise, shuddering as another clatter sounds from somewhere in the alley. Your eyes dart through the darkness, searching for a shadow that moves more than the rest. After maybe another minute of silence, with your makeshift weapon still in hand, you rush toward the exit of the passageway.

A breath of relief leaves your lips as you enter a level of light where your hand is no longer a silhouette in front of your face. Using the lamp post as support, you reach down to grab the second heel from your other foot and toss it inside your bag while its twin remains prepped just in case. You can survive walking the last three minutes to your building barefoot. All else be damned.

Just as you’re about to resume your walk home, something grabs the back of your scalp, and using the roots of your hair as assistance, yanks you back into the dark alleyway. You immediately fight back, swinging your arm as hard as you can to stab the assailant with your heel. Obviously taken off guard, the figure surrenders its hold on your hair and provides the opportunity for you to stab him again. It releases a blend of something between a groan and a growl, grabs your wrist and quite literally, launches you deeper into the darkness.

Your body connects with a brick wall with a violent thud, stealing every ounce of breath from your lungs. You try to clamber to your hands and knees, but your right arm throbs and goes completely limp at the movement. You curse at the broken bone, but still manage to bring yourself to stand. No sooner are you on your feet, the figure, who you briefly forgot about, shoves and pins your back against the wall with a hand around your throat.

“G-get off…!” You sputter, using your good arm to claw at its face. With speed and strength that’s mostly definitely not human, it keeps your flailing body pressed against the brick surface, yanks your arm out of the way and harshly tilts your head to the side. A loud scream sounds from your lips as binding pain erupts from your neck. Warm blood slips down your flesh like raindrops, staining the collar of your shirt crimson red. The pain is so fierce, it disorients your mind and numbs the remainder of your physical strength, leaving no room for you to fight back any longer.

Your vision begins to grow blurry, partly from tears and partly from the painful fogginess exhausting your brain. For a moment, you wonder what will kill you first: The blood loss, the excruciating pain, or the knowledge that your life in itself is slowly slipping from your fingertips.

You are going to die. The thought repeats itself like a broken record on repeat. You are going to die without seeing your students again. You are going to die without seeing Jihyo and Sana and all your friends again. You are going to die right here, in this dark alley, from a brutal monster that came straight out of hell.

Just when you’re on the cusp between consciousness and unconsciousness, the figure is torn away, leaving your body to collapse to the ground. Muffled sounds of what seem to be barbaric snarls and roars spill into your ears, followed by the obvious snaps of breaking bones. Through the pitch black, you can almost make out a human-like silhouette approaching your grounded figure.

The last thing you remember before you slip underneath the waves of exhaustion is the gentle touch of bloody hands and a soft murmur of your name.

☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

Familiar faces mill about the confines of the graveyard, some as bystanders, whispering rumors behind yellow-taped borders, and some as pursuers, tiptoeing around the grounds as if one wrong step will shatter the tense atmosphere like glass. From his perch leaning against a nearby tree, Mark watches the coroner zip up the black body bag with a blank expression set across his features, contradicting the cloud of sorrow suffocating the means of his soul. Even with the corpse out of sight, he can remember her face—the still-rosy cheeks, the icy touch of fingertips, the unseeing eyes…

The coroner rises to his feet, shaking his head before turning to speak to the town sheriff beside him. Mark continues to observe as both investigators engage in a brief conversation. As if sensing his gaze, they simultaneously turn to peer his way. Mark quickly turns his eyes elsewhere and abandons his post. He heads in the direction of the crypt, attempting to push the persistent, vulgar images out of mind.

“Mark! Hang on!” His steps halt at the frenzied call of the sheriff, providing the opportunity for the older woman to approach. She offers him an apologetic smile and an affectionate pat on his forearm. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to ask you anymore questions.”

“Good. Don’t think I have anything much else to say.” The sheriff doesn’t reply to his weak attempt at humor, instead mapping out the very extent of his face. Trying his hardest to keep his features neutral, Mark stares right back at the female officer—the last thing he needs is to break down right then and there.

After another moment of silence passes, the sheriff finally speaks, “How are you doing, Mark? Really?”

“How do you think I’m doing, sheriff?” Mark releases a sigh, “One of my friends is dead.”

“I know.” She also expels a deep breath, running a hand through her long, brunette tresses. Her grip stiffens just slightly, enough to be able to feel her skin trembling against his. “I wish I could say something to make it better, but I can’t believe it myself—” She chuckles scornfully, “Do you have any idea who—or what, would do this?”

“We’re trying to figure that out.” Mark replies, “Some of us are… taking it pretty hard.”

“Until then, you and everyone else have to be careful.”

Mark shakes his head, “Sheriff—”

“I mean it, Mark,” The sheriff squeezes his arm so tight that Mark wonders if it will bruise. “Whoever did this knew what they were doing, and they knew what she was. Promise me that you’ll keep on your toes?” Flashes of her lifeless body overtake the forefronts of his brain even before he can help it. He hates how his stomach twists at the memory of that foreboding symbol carved into his chest—right next to the confines from where her heart was torn.

“I promise.”

“Good.” A breath that Mark didn’t even know he was holding escapes his lungs as the sheriff removes her hand. “Let me know if you find anything. I’ll keep in touch.”

“Thanks, sheriff.” The sheriff doesn’t say another word, only lays one final pat on Mark’s shoulder before taking off after a group of officers hauling the body bag into the back of a large van. Mark watches as she goes, unable to shake off the feeling of her quivering fingers until she’s out of sight.

Ignoring the staff mopping the blood-stained gravel pathways, Mark resumes his journey up the steps and inside the tall, white-marbled mausoleum. To anyone on the outside, the structure just seems like a normal place to house a passed loved one, but to the specific few, it’s so much more. The coziness of the inside somewhat eases the anxiety flowing through his veins, welcoming the warmth the flames in the fireplace provide. He gazes around the one-room building, past towering bookshelves stuffed with ancient grimoires and cabinets lined with jared materials of all kinds, until his eyes settle on a second figure standing at the lectern placed in the center of the room, flipping through the yellowed pages of a ragged book.

“Any luck?” Mark asks, making his way through the cluttered space beside his busy companion. Youngjae glances up from the tome that’s pretty much falling apart, and sullenly shakes his head.

“Nothing. I tried to track her blood—” Youngjae gestures to a map on a nearby table, its surface decorated with spreading crimson lines and swirls, “—but it’s weird. The trail doesn’t go anywhere. It just…doesn’t stop.”

“What about that mark? Anything on that?”

“I’ve gone through everything we have on runes, symbolism, hieroglyphics, but there’s nothing that even remotely resembles what was on her chest.” Youngjae pauses, hesitant to speak the words on the tip of his tongue, but with a glance at Mark, he continues, “...It’s like whoever, or whatever killed her doesn’t exist, hyung. There’s literally nothing.”

“Shit—” Mark curses, pinching the bridge of his nose with a huff, “There can’t just be nothing! There has to be something—!”

Youngjae shakes his head, “I don’t know what to tell you…” The younger watches as Mark picks up his book. He flips through a few pages before slamming the cover shut with more force than necessary. A moment of silence aside from the sounds of their breathing passes until it is broken by Mark’s yell as he launches the text across the room, knocking over a collection of stacked artifacts.

“Hyung—”

“One of our people is dead, Youngjae!” Youngjae flinches at the elder’s harsh tone, watching helplessly as he shoves a pile of grimoires across the mausoleum floor. “And we have no fucking clue who killed her and why they did it! What if they come back, huh!? What if they come for you next!? Or Lia!? Or Jisung or—” Mark’s angered tangent falls quiet at the shrill call of a cell ringtone. Mark retracts his phone from his pocket, and with a composed sigh, answers the device and lifts it to his ear.

Youngjae watches Mark’s face carefully as it shifts from annoyance to confusion to absolute anguish. He tries to inquire about the subject of the phone call, but Mark only lifts his finger in warning. After a couple cool replies, Mark mumbles a less-than-pleasant farewell and disconnects the line. One of his hands lift to push back the strands of his dark hair while the other frantically reaches for his jacket:

“(Y/N)’s in the hospital. Fuck, I have to—”

“Go, hyung.” Youngjae hums, “I’ll see if I can find anything else.”

Mark’s composure softens. Guilt begins to flow through his veins as he recalls the harsh tone he previously directed at his younger companion. Guided by his emotions, Mark reaches forward to squeeze at Youngjae’s bicep, similar to the sheriff’s actions minutes before. He murmurs, “Thank you, Youngjae.” Youngjae only nods, bending down to begin clearing the remnants of Mark’s wrath as said figure heads out the door.

The forensic team is still cleaning the blood as Mark makes his way toward the exit of the graveyard.

☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

The first color you see when you open your eyes is white, playing more into your assumptions that you’re currently in the beginning stage of the afterlife. As more and more of your consciousness and common sense return to your brain, the puzzle pieces of the strange situation slowly begin to slide into place. You’re not floating in a cloud at all—but in fact, laying on the most uncomfortable bed known to man. You groan, forcing yourself to sit up as to collect more clues to your surroundings.

A soft murmur of your name and set of hands on your shoulders takes you completely off guard. Immediately, memories of your encounter with the violent creature invade your brain like water to dry soil. You flail your limbs wildly, attempting to defend yourself against the unknown figure with each kick and punch.

“(Y/N), hey! Calm down!” The stranger seizes your wrists before you can knock his eye out, tugging your arms to rest on your lap. It’s painfully aware that his strength outmatches your own, so you make no other attempts to use force—also partly due to the gentle tone of his voice. You allow the stranger to guide your upper body back to lay down on the bed, using the opportunity to peek at his face:

The man is despicably handsome to the point his features seem to be sculpted by the gods themselves. His face is long, with a jawline that is sharp enough to slice your finger if you were to reach up and touch the structure. You can’t tell which is more alluring, between his dark, almond-shaped eyes, or his full, rose lips. Then again, the jet black, fluffy hair atop his head is also a close third…or the milky canvas of his strong neck—

“...(Y/N)?” When the stranger speaks again, you notice a strange lilt to his voice, almost like an accent of some sorts. But like the figure himself, you can’t place where you’ve heard such a figment of speech. “...Can you understand me?”

“I’d hope so.” You murmur blankly, “What am I? A fucking alien?”

The stranger’s lips curl in amusement at your retort. He pulls a lone chair closer to your bedside, not once breaking his gaze from your own. You ignore the strange shivers that crawl down your spine as he takes a seat, leaning forward to rest his forearms atop the edge of your mattress. Through the corner of your eye, you notice the multitude of wires connecting your arm to the machines stationed on the opposite end of the bed—so you’re not dead. What a relief.

“You’re in the hospital—”

“Figured that out already, pal.” You sigh, rolling your head back into the pillows and allowing your eyes to slip shut. The act does little to calm the storm occurring inside your mind, so frustratedly, you open them again and instead, peer at your unfamiliar companion with a raised eyebrow, “Pardon my French, but who the fuck are you and why are you here?”

Before the stranger can settle the confusion bubbling through your entire body, a knock sounds from the door a few feet away. It slides open to reveal a woman in a white coat with a clipboard and pen in hand. With a sweet smile across her face, the doctor enters the room to approach your position on the bed.

She outstretches a hand, “Hi, (Y/N). I’m Dr. Yoo Jeongyeon. I heard you had a pretty rough night.” Too lost inside bewilderment, you accept her formal greeting without saying a word. Dr. Yoo pays no mind to your silence, instead checking the machines at your bedside. “You should be glad Jinyoung found and brought you here.” She finishes recording the results of the pacemaker before requesting you to sit up for a moment. You do so, looking straight ahead as she checks your eyes. “You suffered a nasty concussion—” She switches off the light, “—so how do you feel?”

“I feel…” Your voice fades before you can give a complete answer. It’s not that it wasn’t an easy question—it’s the fact that right now, you feel great… The best you’ve felt in the past couple years as a matter of fact! But that doesn’t make any sense, especially with what you remember from the alleyway. There was blood… and you’re pretty sure your arm was broken too…

“It’s okay to be a little out of sorts. Especially after hitting your head and knocking yourself out.” Dr. Yoo assures, marking something down on her clipboard before nodding, “Everything looks great, but we’re going to keep you here for the rest of the night just as a precaution. You’re free to go home first thing in the morning.”

“Wait, I swear I—”

“Please let one of the nurses know if you need anything else. I’ll see you in the morning.” You watch as Dr. Yoo bids both you, and the man called Jinyoung, a brief goodnight and exits out the same door she came through only minutes ago, leaving your thoughts swirling with even more questions than before.

You shake your head, “I didn’t fall though. I was attacked.”

“Like she said, you hit your head pretty hard.” Jinyoung shrugs, “Your memory is probably a bit off.”

“That’s not—no.” His face grows visibly surprised at the drop in your tone, but still retains his usual neutral aura. “I know what I saw.”

Jinyoung releases a heavy, almost annoyed breath before climbing to his feet. More shivers attack your helpless body as he leans forward, diminishing the distance between the two of you until his nose is only centimeters from brushing your own. You can taste the mint of his breath as he speaks. Calm, collected, and slow:

“You fell and hit your head. Nothing else happened.” Amongst his strange words, you can’t help but notice the rather unusual behavior of his eyes. The ring of his chocolate, brown irises disappears as his pupil grows three times its normal size before shrinking down to a nonexistent dot—you don’t like the familiar ghost of paranoia breathing down the back of your neck.

“What the hell is wrong with your eyes?”

For the first time, actual emotion lifts to Jinyoung’s face in the form of pure disorientation. He lurches backward, as if finally realizing how uncomfortably narrow the distance was between the two of you, and clears his throat. Although it’s probably a trick against the bright, alabaster background, you swear you saw his eyes once again flash to black.

“Nothing. It’s the lighting.” He manages to get over his confused state, or mask it beneath another layer of vacancy, before awkwardly gesturing to your cell phone on the bedside table. “I called your friend, Mark. He was the first contact on your list, so I just thought…”

“That’s… really nice of you.”

“He should be arriving soon…” Jinyoung, once again, stiffly points in the direction of the closed door. “I should wait outside to make sure he finds your room…” He hurries to the doorway, eager to be rid of the tension lingering between the two of your forms, and peers over his shoulder to nod, “I hope you have a goodnight, (Y/N).”

“Jinyoung, wait—” You hurry to sit up, hoping to catch your mysterious savior before he disappears from the room. Thankfully, Jinyoung, with one foot out the door, pauses at your command. This time, he does not turn to meet your gaze—and you curse the longing that sparks in your gut because of it.

“Thanks for… bringing me here, I guess.” Your cheeks burn as you say the words out loud, wondering if Jinyoung can hear the slight waver to your tone. You expect the stranger to nod his head, like before, and high tail out of your sight, but as always, Jinyoung does what you least expect: He turns around and delivers a tight-lipped, but surprisingly sweet smile.

“You’re welcome.” His response makes your insides flutter, “I… I hope to see you again soon.” Jinyoung doesn’t give you the chance to return the conversation, and with one final glance, vanishes through the hospital doorway. Even with his presence gone, your body thrums with the remnants of his aura. Partly because of the lingering aftertaste of his charming presence:

—And partly because of the apprehensive feeling in your gut that grows the more you dwell on the abnormality of his gaze.

☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

Jinyoung never meant for the night to turn out like this. He only wanted to get out of the manor—well, get away from his brother before he broke his neck. Literally. Jinyoung never meant to catch your scent during his midnight stroll, nor eventually find you in that alleyway, where he watched as you bravely attempted to fight off that crazed, bloodthirsty fledgling with nothing but a single shoe. The logical part of his brain initially forbode his intervention, but watching how you fought that vampire awoke the remaining human component inside his soul.

—He realized that he couldn’t let you die.

So against his better judgement, Jinyoung saved your life… and now he’s paying the price.

“You better have a damn good explanation or I’ll hex you into the next fucking century.” Jinyoung waits patiently as Mark exits the hospital elevator, barely flinching as he shoves his body against the nearest wall. Ignoring the pure rage wafting off of the witch’s body like a Spring scent, Jinyoung raises his arms and replies coolly:

“Please take your hands off of me.”

“Not until you explain to how (Y/N) was almost killed by a fucking bloodsucker.” Mark tightens his hold on Jinyoung’s collar, pressing him further into the surface of the wall. “If this is because of your douchebag brother, then I swear—”

“I already told you that Jaebeom cannot turn other vampires.” He pushes Mark’s body with just enough force to free himself from his hold. “And so help me, if you try to go after my family again, I’ll kill you and your pathetic minions.”

Mark scoffs, “Just because you can’t be killed doesn’t mean you’re invincible.” Jinyoung quickly bites his tongue to hold back his retort and inhales a deep breath to calm the frustration brewing through his veins. His mind, against his own will, conjures up the memory of you sitting and staring at him from the hospital bed. Just the image of your bright, fire-lit eyes eases the tension from his shoulders, washing away whatever anger remained inside his gut.

Jinyoung sighs and changes the topic, “(Y/N) is fine. After I killed him, I fed her my blood—”

“Oh, fucking hell—” Mark curses, burying his face in his palms. “Yeah, everything is just peachy.”

“It was either that, or she die from blood loss. Take your pick.”

“We had a deal,” The witch begins, ��The coven, the pack and the league would allow you and your brother to stay in town as long as no other bloodsuckers make an appearance—“

“I can’t keep count of every vampire that comes into town,” Jinyoung replies truthfully. “Last I checked, that’s your seer’s job.” He takes note of the painful expression that overtakes Mark’s face, replacing his frustrated tone with one of concern, “What happened?”

“Nayeon is dead.” He feels an imaginary punch sink into his gut at Mark’s sullen answer. “She was killed a couple hours ago.”

“Killed? By what?”

“That’s what we were trying to figure out when I got your goddamn call.”

Jinyoung shakes his head, “I’m sor—”

“Save it.” Mark finishes just as a couple of chatting nurses clad in sky blue scrubs turn the corner and stop in front of the elevator. Both him and Jinyoung offer the hospital staff polite smiles, waiting a couple breaths for the metal doors to slide open and the passersby to enter. Only when the doors shut and the elevator dings, is when Mark continues: “Where is she?”

“Room 116. I told her I called you.” Jinyoung quickly moves forward as Mark tries to push past him, blocking the doorway so he can’t pass. “Hang on—”

“We’re done talking—”

“She can’t be compelled.” Jinyoung ignores how Mark tries to shove him aside, keeping his body rigid and exactly in place.

Mark rolls his eyes, “Well, no shit. I gave her a ring infused with vervain—”

“She wasn’t wearing it,” Jinyoung insists, “And her blood is clean. You know what that means.”

“Are you out of your fucking mind!?” A couple surrounding bystanders curiously glance their way at Mark’s hiss. The witch releases a heavy breath before dragging Jinyoung to a more inconspicuous corner of the hallway. His voice is quieter when he speaks, “Look, I know this girl. There’s no way in hell she's anything remotely supernatural.”

“Then explain how she can’t be compelled by a Prime Vampire.” Jinyoung argues, narrowing his eyes as Mark scoffs and turns to begin the journey to your room. He purses his lips before calling out, “I know you feel it too.” Mark freezes, but doesn’t say a word. Jinyoung takes his silence as a means to continue, “—that rush you feel whenever she’s around… like you’re the most powerful being in the world.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Mark replies before peering over his shoulder to shoot Jinyoung a stern glare, “Stay the hell away from her. Or else.” And with that, Jinyoung watches as Mark scurries down the white hallway and disappears around a corner.

Jinyoung releases a sigh, lifting a hand to run his fingers through his hair. His thoughts are scattered: Stressing about a witch killer lurking around the town… Dreading his future encounter with his ignorant, dastardly counterpart back at the manor… Pondering over the reasons why Mark lied just seconds before…

But most importantly, Jinyoung wonders when he will be able to see you again.

☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

Mark doesn’t understand why he’s so nervous to see you. Maybe it was the look in Jinyoung’s eyes that has him spooked, or the fact that you can’t be compelled by one of the most powerful vampires in existence. Since you came to Moon Dye Bay, Mark has been able to shield the truth of the monsters that go bump in the night from your innocent eyes—the knowledge of your resistance toward mind compulsion proves that he has to be even more careful… especially with a supernatural murderer in the picture.

He inhales a deep breath before rapping his knuckles against the wood of the door. Your gentle call for his entry immediately lifts the heaviness from his chest. With less hesitation than before, Mark opens the obstacle and slips past the doorway into the room, his eyes softening at the sight of your body tucked beneath the sheets of the medical bed.

“Hi.”

“Hey, Mark.” Just the way you say his name spills warmth through his limbs, settling like a warm blanket over his heart. He makes his way to your bed to gather your figure in his arms, appreciating how yours and his bodies fit like puzzle pieces.

He murmurs against the crown of your head, “How are you feeling?”

“Honestly… confused as hell.” Mark pulls back at your weak attempt at a laugh to watch your face instead. His desire to caress the swell of your cheek comes at him so strong that he has to station his hands on your knees as a distraction. “I swear I was attacked by—I don’t even know what—but I don’t even know…”

“It’s okay. We’ll figure it out.”

“I know, I just—don’t understand how things just got so screwed up, you know? I don’t even—Mark, what’s wrong?”

Your question seizes his attention, causing his eyebrows to furrow from confusion. He opens his mouth to inquire about your out-of-the-blue concern, but his words die at the hand that appears on his cheek. He watches in disbelief as you wipe a tear from the edge of his eye, wondering where during the conversation he had begun to cry. Whether it’s the pure compassion in your eyes, or the traumatic encounters throughout the night, Mark doesn’t know… but he allows himself to break down in your hold.

He allows himself to melt into your embrace as you pull him down against your body. He allows the sobs to freely flow from his lips and catch into the crook of your neck. He allows himself to be vulnerable for that one moment… because he can’t show weakness anywhere but with you.

“I… I thought I lost you…” Mark feels your hold tighten at his whisper, “I can’t lose you… Not you…”

“You won’t, Mark…” For a moment, he allows his heart to trick his mind into believing your words meant more than what they’re intended for. Just for a moment, Mark actually convinces himself that here, in your arms, is where he belongs…but he knows it’s far from the truth.

Because even though you may feel like home—Mark can never, truly satisfy his homesickness for you.

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tarithenurse · 4 years ago

Text

Stolen - 13

Pairing: Loki Laufeyson &/x fem!gifted!reader Content: Bit of this and that, but nothing that requires specific warnings. A/N: Survival mode: active.

13. (s)AINT

... Reader ...

Alarm bells are blaring, drowning out any logical thinking and leaving you frozen like a deer in headlights. The headlights, better known as Arox, loom over you. An alcoholic musk rolls off him, stirred by the movement of flexing arms as he hooks the thumbs in the belt.

“You’re lost,” he rumbles. Trying to swallow the dryness in your mouth, you begin to object but don’t get further than to opening the mouth. “Not safe for you alone.”

This time you don’t manage to dodge him and feel a swoop in your belly as your feet leave the ground. Perhaps a yelp escapes you. Probably, considering the surprise at suddenly being perched on the muscle man’s shoulder with a neat view over the area.

“You see Loki?” Arox is slowly turning on the spot.

Too surreal to question, your mind lamely follows the unspoken order and starts searching. Where are you? For once, the Asgardian might not be the tallest around and there are so many different people (or creatures) milling about and dodging in and out of semi-rusty buildings. Anything black and pale that moves catches your attention out of the corner of the eye only to let you down when you get a clear view of whoever it is. Perhaps it’s best to go back to the shi-

“There!” You point towards a stall about halfway back the way you came from.

The knot in your guts dissolves into butterflies (which you decide are from relief). Being lost on a foreign planet-head-thing is far from appealing even if Arox has decided to help. Right now, he’s stomping down the street the way you pointed without bothering to put you down first. Very few passerbys don’t get out of the way and most of those can be excused by a physiology incompatible with fast movement.

Loki is standing with his arms crossed, waiting for you to be stood before him which Arox elegantly assures. There’s something mingling with the annoyance in the god’s eyes, an urgency you can’t put your finger on.

“Thank you, A-” turning to the man, you find he’s already swallowed by the crowd, “-rox...oh.” I’ll thank him later, I guess.

The god’s nearness is a presence of cold behind you, waiting to creep into your bones and weigh you down without leaving you the power to struggle against it. Swallowing hard, you have to force yourself to face him. His eyes are hard like stone, only that flicker of something deep within – rage, you guess – that disappears before you’re certain it really was there at all.

“I told you to stay close, did I not? Mortal?” he sneers.

A demure nod and downcast gaze. It’s not like you wanted to get separated...but you also know it isn’t the moment to argue the point.

It’s hard to get your bearings in a world that includes Loki. The ruthlessness and evil he radiated at first has started to melt away during the days on Alfheim to a point where you could make yourself believe he cared or at the very least was something closer to human. Could someone like him truly bother about someone like you? No. But the brief stay on the utopian planet granted a glimpse of gentleness.

Who am I kidding?! Loki. The Trickster. God of Chaos and Mischief. It’s probably a part of some plan, a great scheme where your part as a pawn requires a level of free will. That would be simpler to believe: a Stockholm Syndrome, carefully made possible by the captor. Now I just have to believe that.

The tall man sighs and clasps a hand on your shoulder. “Better keep you close.” And like that the two of you walk on.

You're simultaneously terrified and thrilled as you walk next to the tall man down the metallic roads. He's trying his best to explain the races you see and the story behind the place which, as suspected, isn't a planet at all. Most names slip your memory the moment Loki has said them – too foreign to register as more than exotically new.

"But...they're so different!" Clearly used to the diversity, your exclamation only makes the god chuckle softly. "Man, Earth's gonna be boring after this."

"Considering how badly the Midgardians are at coexisting...perhaps it's for the better."

Groaning inwardly, you just know that all the snappy comebacks hiding right now will come back to haunt you when you lie in your bed but a raucous laughter coming from up ahead serves to save you the embarrassment of gaping like a fish to Loki’s face.

Next second the god has wrapped a chilling hand around your fingers and drags you down the nearest alley, somehow squeezing the both of you into a tiny gap between a dumpster (judging by the smell and goo seeping from it) and the wall.

“What’re -?” A cold clasps over your mouth, silencing the demand for an explanation.

There’s barely room to breathe unless the point is to squish your chest harder against Loki’s lithe form, and you’re appreciative of the fact that his attention is on the people on the street.

Whatever language they speak is foreign to you, but the tone of voice makes the small hairs on your body stand up because that’s the leer of bullies. And if bullies are bad enough for a god to choose hiding by the smelly trash? Yeah...not good.

As if to prove the point, one of the people laughing breaks off to yell, then then you hear the wet thump of something (or someone) falling followed by cries of shock and more devious cackling.

... Loki ...

They’re much too close for comfort, and though Loki can’t see them from here, he knows Thanos’ lackeys are lingering at the alley mouth to jibe at whomever they have subjected to their violence. And to think I was willing to lower myself to their level. A chill runs down the god’s spine at the memory.

Asgardians and Jötun may not truly be immortal, however their lifespan is impressive enough to reduce hours to seconds, years to hours. It’s sobering – the silent creeping as time extends into half an eternity until the voices finally draw away and Loki can breathe freely again. Blinking, he notices the surroundings properly for the first time. The closeness of the space. The softness of [Y/N]’s skin against his palm that has moved from her mouth to cradle her cheek. Only his thumb still rests on the plump lower lip. He can’t help himself but brush the pad of that finger gently along and up to brush away a single tear fallen from the fearful eyes.

“They’re gone now,” he whispers, “you’re safe.” His heart aches as it threatens to split with his blatant lies.

It’s easy to hide behind the task ahead, though he dares not let go of the Midgardian’s shoulder once they return to the original path. The adrenaline is thrumming through the veins, creating oceans in his ears that drowns out all but the nearest voices as they walk. A wildfire of scenarios had blossomed in Loki’s mind the moment he realized the Midgardian was gone yet fear kept him rooted. Dread kept him from razing the place to the ground in the effort to find her. And now this.

What have you done to me, mortal?

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