#fool’s revenant au

[lambment]

Narinder had to sit down for a few minutes after this to contemplate how he lost

[monosprout]

Happy April fools, had to draw @lambment lamb to celebrate! I adore your work and needed to draw your lamb🙈💕 (alt version under)

Sorry pepaw had to hit em with my yassification powers (⁠*⁠˘⁠︶⁠˘⁠*⁠)⁠.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡

[echoing-locations]

He who believes he’s higher, will fall farther.

Philip graves everybody!! From @reds-skull revenent AU (close ups and my ravings under the cut)

You have no idea how much I like this au, it’s probably one of the main reasons I got interested in COD.

I cheered I bit when they finally took down Graves in the fic, but the guy deserved it and Definitely had is coming. (if not by ghost and soap then definitely from Alejandro and Los Vaqueros)

Also the perspective on this kicked my ass also I’ve never drawn tack gear/vests before, but overall I like how it turned out! I feel like I could’ve done something a little different with the lighting but I wasn’t sure what and I had been goofing around with it for about 2 hours at that point.

In early sketches I was fooling around with the idea of also adding the Reaper of Many cuz I just love the idea of the Reapers, but ultimately I cut that idea cuz I couldn’t figure where I would put them and also had no idea on how I wanted to draw how I picture them (think of the one reborn from bloodborne but less rotting and gross, and more spider like and agile)

Anyways that’s enough of my rambling, go read the Revenent AU cuz it’s very good and I’m very excited to see where Bringer of Demise will go!!

[strong-with-the-sarcasm]

Part 6- from the top of my lungs

Dp x DC AU: Regent!Jazz & Vigilante!Jazz

"I step out outside and I take a deep breath and I get real high and I scream from the top of my lungs, 'What's going on?!'" - What's Up? by 4 Non Blondes

Masterlist Part 5

It was probably hypocritical of Danny to lecture Jazz about taking up a vigilante role around their new haunt when he himself couldn’t resist the instinctual urge to give the local breed of stupidity a beatdown. 

If anything, it was a good way to get back into shape.

(Danny’s not fooling anyone, he’s a twink.) (A ghouly goopy ghostly one, but still a twink.)

Danny argued that he had more experience with vigilantism than Jazz, when she’d taken up a support role even after training. Sure, her aim has gotten so much better with practice, but Jazz was only a liminal. 

(A highly ecto-contaminted liminal with a scary sword that can cut through reality to create portals that currently does his kingly paperwork for him.)

At least he could comfort himself with the knowledge that Jazz was trained by the frightening and awe-inspring Pandora of the Infinite Realms Acropolis, bearing her own gifted Bracelets of Submission as a symbol of respect from one woman to another. 

(Jazz and Pandora sparring made the Boy King eternally grateful to be on the good side of both women.) 

(Scary was an understatement.) 

(No wonder Jazz and Sam got along so well.)

(Batman and Wonder Woman were supposedly friends, being founders of the Justice League and all.)

Gotham was all kinds of batshit crazy when the sun went down.

(pun recognized and intended.)

A dumb statement for any Gothamite, but newcomers to the city never really got it until the were robbed at gunpoint within five minutes of sunset. 

That wasn’t really a concern for Danny, he’s gotten into the habit of phasing his important items into his body for safe keeping, but his increased need to do something made his late night walks morph into something that vaguely resembled his Witching Hours patrols back in Amity. Midnight to three am, strictly rooftops without too much barrier crossing into Hood’s territory were now fully integrated into the Halfa’s life- the purring of his core when he protected someone was healing something inside him he hadn’t realized was sick. 

(Lies.)

Without the Red Hood to manage his Haunt, the Boy King and Regent had brute forced their way passed the boundary line to help the once-Revenant’s people until the one in question could do it himself. The habitants of Crime Alley were hesistant at first to accept more vigilantes into their midst, especially one that was obviously a meta with a concerning range of physical abilites, but with the Regent’s quiet strength and Phantom’s quirky attitude they were begrudgingly allowed to continue. 

(If Phantom also used his ice manipulation to help stablilize dilapidated buildings being used as shelter for the upcoming winter, then all the better.) 

The Regent had been caught in the Bat’s territory more recently, much to Danny’s worry. Jazz could no doubt break the furry over her knee, Danny had seen her do it to Skulker of all people, but drawing the ire of the big bat was the opposite of ideal. Batman’s Stabby Robin might even try to challenge Jazz for her Ecto-sword, which was both hilarious to imagine and panic-inducing, because stabby Robin was stabby. 

After the early morning chat with the Signal, Danny had come to a decision regarding the leather clad crime lord furry and his flock of birdies- step up as the Boy King and request Batman’s help in riding the Realms of the Anti-Ecto Acts. Jazz already did so much as his Regent, he could at least get the ball rolling on this. 

In order to begin, he had a sad trenchcoat man to call. 

“Bloody Hell, Phantom!” 

The Phantom, in his original jumpsuit rather than the admittedly awesome Star King regalia, grinned with a mouth full of razor-sharp teeth. Closer to a snarl, but whatever. 

“Sad trenchcoat man! Just the guy I wanted to see.” 

Danny knew the guy’s name, hard not to when he’d seen the three floor-to-ceiling filing cabinets in Jazz’s office dedicated to the Laughing Magician alone, but the halfa was nothing if not dedicated to the bit. 

When he’d sensed Constantine’s magic at work, he’d hijacked the summoning circle for his own use- suck it, a king trumps whatever entity Constantine was trying to get and Danny was less likely to want his soul in return for a favor. 

(Did it really count when he’d already gifted the glued together pieces of the guy’s soul to Jazz as a paperweight?) 

“Phantom, lad, why’re you here?”

The Ghost boy huffed a laugh, the building annoyance in the air just from his presence was fueling his life force. 

“What, can’t say hi to a friend now? After all the work I did to stop that demon from coming instead too.” 

(Lies.) (The summoning had been for an observant, but those bastard eyebags can eat a dick for all he cared.)

“Demon?” Constantine’s voice cracked with surprise, gaze flickering over the runes he’d lazily copied from a book. 

“Yep.” 

“Constantine.” A growl interrupted whatever comeback the Magician could have conjured, with the shadows of the darkened room parting to allow the Dark Knight himself to step through. “There is no time.” 

“Aye, Batsy.” The brit turned back to Phantom, an edge of desperation now coloring the annoyance the ghost had brought. “Phantom, I need a favor.” 

Phantom blinked. 

“Uh, sure dude?” 

“Constantine.” Batman interrupted again, but the sad trenchcoat man waved him off.

“Your people been wreckin’ government buildings and the bloody USA is throwing a fit.” 

Government buildings? Phantom’s people? The GIW? 

Could his luck really be in his favor this time? After all, here was Batman, and the sad trenchcoat man who could verify that Phantom was a spirit of protection and not one of vengeance. 

(He left that to the Regent.)

“If that’s the case, then there is nothing I can do.” 

(He would be right there with his people. What’s a few more buildings destroyed to free the innocent ghosts trapped within?) 

“Whot?” 

Phantom crossed his arms, allowing gravity to bring him to the floor where he stood at his full height. Unintimidating was one word for it, but he couldn’t really care less at the moment. 

“The GIW have committed acts of War against the Infinite Realms, Constantine. It’s only thanks to the Regent and Future King that this Living Realm hasn’t been claimed by the Unquiet Dead.” 

It was true. Jazz was the best Regent Danny could’ve ever gotten. She was liminal enough to understand that the Denziens of the Realms were not inherently malicious, but human enough to realize that she too would be afraid of the ghosts if she hadn’t been raised around the dead and (un)dying.

It was only thanks to that fine line she walked that Phantom wasn’t to join the Unquiet Dead and Neverborn as they descended onto the Living with the fury of thousand suns. 

Danny, while a half-ghost, had died unlike his big sister. Sure he was brought back by Ectoplasm, but he had only returned halfway and that part of him was chomping at the bit to avenge those who were ended that he couldn’t protect. 

“Here.” Phantom shallowly intoned as he pulled a flash drive from his chest, thrown to the big bat. “That contains all collected information the Regent was comfortable sharing with the Living. Share it with your league and get the Acts demolished, Batman.” 

Phantom sighed heavily, shoulders drooping as he finished in a tired voice, “Please. I don’t want to fight. Please don’t make me go to war.” 

Was he trying to tug on the Bat’s heartstrings? Yes. Was he being honest in not wanting to got to war? Also yes. 

“War?” 

“Yeah, all denziens of the Realms would have to fight. We’re all effected by the Acts, even if we don’t want to hurt anyone we’d have to…for our right to exist.” Phantom replied lowly. “I’m a spirit of protection, I don’t want to hurt the innocent.” 

(It was a truth he had come to terms with, after his sister killed their parents.)

(He died wanting to be loved and protected by the adults who claimed to be his parents, but it had been Jazz that raised him.) 

(She avenged him twice over.)

(She gave him a grave.)

A/N: No Hardcover/Anger Management ship content this time, just lore for this world I'm building.

And look, Sad trenchcoat man!

Song quotes are from the same songs on my Jazz/Jason playlist. Typically the song that started playing when I get ready to post this.

[fandom-friday]

Thank you so much to everyone that submitted recommendations this week! A comprehensive list of this week’s submissions can be found under the cut! Recommendations are organized by show/media, and any main pairings will be listed after the title.

✨ = 18+ content

Fics:

The Clone Wars: ✨ In Command (Captain Rex x OFC Senna Aven) by @wild-karrde ✨ Walk Me Home (Commander Wolffe x OFC Cherise) by @cyarbika Dominoes by @meridiansdominoes

The Bad Batch: ✨ Quiet Corners of the Galaxy (Crosshair x OFC Dara) by @badbatchposts Fools Errand (Crosshair x OFC Doc) by @staycalmandhugaclone Brother, My Brother by @iiidunno He's Not Heavy, He's My Brother by @therisingdarkness The Hardest Word by @therisingdarkness How Long Will it Take for You to Learn to Slow Down? by @saturn-sends-hugs

Star Wars Prequel Series: ✨ Unbreakable Bonds (Obi-Wan Kenobi x OFC Cressida Vox) by @thegreatwicked ✨ Memories of Chocolate Laced Kisses (Obi-Wan Kenobi x OFC Cressida Vox) by @thegreatwicked Lover, Fighter (Obi-Wan Kenobi x f!Reader) by @thegreatwicked

Republic Commando: The Revenant (Sev x OFC Kiva) by @mikaiyawa

Batman: Where the East and the West Meet by CassowaryFinch (AO3) Rules Were Made Because of Dick Grayson by KitsuneThorn (AO3)

Art:

The Clone Wars: Captain Rex Art by @catd3mon Commander Wolffe Art by @chyarui Shaak Ti Art by @coldbrewarts OC Grim Kennet Inquisitor AU Art by @thechaoticfanartist

The Bad Batch: Tech Art by @vimse Crosshair Art by @forcesavetheclones

Rebels: Kalluzeb Art by @designsbyjoe

Miscellaneous: Horse Art (1 2) by @sometimesanequine

[imtrashraccoon]

Snow day with the Dark Fortress Dragon!Au boys? How would that go?

Probably it would be absolute chaotic BS.

You bet it's chaotic! It's very rare for the Dark Fortress to actually get snow, but when it does, they all but celebrate the occasion. There's nothing like jumping into snow drifts and flinging snow at each other to burn off excess energy. It's also a nice break from the dead, brown environment of the land surrounding the fortress.

Dirk goes crazy. He's suddenly got even more energy than usual and will tear around in the snow. He does his best to get the others to join in and play fights until they eventually get fed up with his antics. If you manage to catch him off guard and hit him with a snowball, he'll retaliate ten-fold and dump an arm full of snow on your head.

Maul is not a fan. He'll stay very still, except for when a snowflake lands in his eye sockets because it makes him shiver. He can be convinced to play in the snow, but not for long, and he'll go make something to warm everyone up after ten minutes. He would startle if you managed to hit him with a snowball and turn to snarl, before realizing you were only trying to have fun.

Reven seems like he doesn't care. He gets sort of contemplative and walks around enjoying the way the world is blanketed in white. If you challenge him to a snow fight, he will join in without much prodding, but be careful as he plays to win. He can get a little carried way, but most of his aggression is directed at Dirk and he is quick to back off if you get overwhelmed.

Donovan has to be forced outside. He would prefer to stay inside, where it's warm and he can enjoy the snow at a distance, then make a fool of himself with the others. His pride keeps him from refusing a challenge, so if you don't want him to be a wet blanket, maybe you can use that to your advantage? He would be the only one to actually get aggressive if you surprise him with a snowball, but he calms down when he realizes that you were only playing.

[thescribeoflostmemories]

*coughs* Pants in kakegurui au with reader as a (personal) housepet

Let's say the only reason Pantalone is holding back himself is because you were his benefactor when he first arrived to the academy, losing to him on purpose so that he could pick some cash up for himself everytime it's fund collection time. Everyone knows this isn't some special treatment for him since you do it for everyone who's lacking in funds (for the student council's fund collection) but Pantalone on the other hand is like, *lol*(classic template, I'm sure yk what he does alr)

And pants being the sly bastard he is, uses the cash he won from you to gamble with others, slowly *leveling up* till he becomes the student council treasurer now.

Oh how he wishes he can just talk with you like the other students do but he's just so shy *lol more to insecure but it's ur call here* so when he heard the news you lost in a big game because you've been tricked by one of the students you tried to save, it's show time for Pants *lol*

He acts hella fast too, he won't give you the time to recover from your debts so boom, fund collection time, you are screwed big time.

now you are inevitably a housepet and Pants didn't waste time in trying to be your saviour *lol*, oh you should have noticed how he's the one who has been pulling strings behind your back. You are in fact, not a bad gambler so he ensures that no one will play with you. (The rest is your call)

But one scene I'd love to see (if possible) is probably Pantalone taking you in as his personal housepet (maybe reader lost their sanity by pants' sweet words and the fake security he gives reader) , while your status remains a housepet, the collar and leash on you definitely warns people to not toy with you unless they want to *lol* become one.

Classic and simple but hey, maybe you know a way to add spices :3 (tia *rolls*)

Silent Night

Original title: “Lord of the Night”, " Mine, Mine, Mine! “

Kakeguri Au

Yandere! Shy(?), soft (?) Gambler!Pantalone x house pet! Reader

(Songs listened to while writting: Stalker’s tango by autohearts, Something no everything is wrong by Madoka, whims of fate persona5, Elite four pokemon gen 5)

“Assuming both of them are teens, and mentions of alcohol and abuse of substance is present. But either way, Yandere isn’t a first choice for a healthy romance, not that I am judging by the way. Even if this reached 6,600 words, this work somehow feels so cheap in a way.”

- P of Li’mu

" Even if you have stayed true, the path one will take is ever treacherous and more despicable. Everyone has their own shadow to deal. And every Wiseman is a fool. “ - Scribe, The overseer of Li’mu.

—

“Where is she? It has been at least an hour!" Walking over to the young student who was supposed to be the overseer of the appointed match, they had just received the notification from their cell phone.

Your seventeenth attempt to grasp upon the reigns that taunted you so by the coined cruelty of your own carelessness.

“Where, is, she?" Repeating your statement like a revenant hungry for flesh, wanting the answer in your mind to be vanquished.

The word irked you further once you heard the nickname they associate with you. “Bonny, she backed–” the reasoning is more than enough to be furious, clenched fists pushed the ill-fortunate student away.

You then proceed to storm out of the common room, seeing Pantalone chatting with a student who had a yellow armband.

Hearing a hint of their conversation, “tell that jester, the appointment—” Hushing themselves once they noticed you.

" Ah, senpai, how was it?" His veracious ghost of a smile made present upon facing you. Waving a dismissive gesture at the schoolmate away, in which did so.

“ Fie. " Words came out more like a roaring sizzle of a fire, indication of another failed attempt.

“ Let’s get you home Senpai, I have some new clothes for you to try on. “ Without fear, he showed the paper bags that have the high end named brands.

At home, walking out of the curtains of the walk-in closet is you, grumbling. Even though it is your own abode, you are not sure how to feel about it now that the Regrator is a frequenter in your comfort zone.

" Are you comfortable with that? " Pantalone asks, shuffling the deck of cards in his hands seamlessly wedging the cards between the others. Eyes closed as he faced you, you who wears the gaudy pink punk-like aesthetic ensemble. All you need is bubble gum to complete the look of a rebellious teen.

“ I would not say uncomfortable but, " You sighed, putting on the fingerless leather gloves and flexing your hand. “ Still, wearing something like this, is borderline of the school’s dress code. ” You raised your concerns, the choice of style is seemingly at random. He knew you prefer a more lovely coloured hue hence he got the one you might ‘endure’ the most.

It's fishnet like hosiery, black leather boots. Dreamy coloured lower article, matching sleeveless top, loose jacket. You look far from being who you were before this whole mess. Especially that black lacy necklace you wear, adding a tiny cute bell to it. The purpose of it? He says it is the latest trend, not that you care about it.

Pantalone frowned a bit, and put away the deck of cards, " Sorry, but I have to atleast make you wear something like this. You know how they act if they know you aren't being treated like a 'housepet'." True, with all the false information circulating, you were sure Pantalone wouldn’t come out of his room for a while. Much like when news spread when your ownership fell to him.

You then sat down on the plush bed of yours, crossing your legs and arms facing him. Is there anything in this room that is not ‘gifted’ by him? The decor, the bedding, clothing—

Pantalone called out, suddenly, "You look so," The bespeckled young teen smiled shyly. “ Stunning in that." He continued his words, especially with how ‘tall and intimidating’ you were compared to him in those high boots.

“Pantalone, please," Another sigh escaped your lips as you looked at the pile of gifts you received from him. It doesn’t feel like a gift for some odd reason. But all of these were the things you found interesting and loved, like that latest game you wanted, or that stuff toy you were eying, even clothes for you to wear whenever he brings you to meetings or indulgent parties he was invited to. Perhaps he doesn’t want you to miss out on things he has?

Pushing up his eyeglasses that reflected a fragment of yourself on it. "You don't have to worry about that, you can repay me back, once you found an opponent that could spell out freedom." His signature thinly veiled smile that seems relaxed in your presence.

Adding to that he replied with, "You'll find them, because I trust that brain of yours to think up a plan." Him being the treasurer does give him some perks of possibly scraping a few zeroes into his name. But you knew he wouldn’t stoop to such a low blow, especially that he prefers a more ‘sophisticated’ approach.

You were about to ask him of that strange person earlier, though. Quickly silencing that trivial thought. It was not your place to question what a person entails, no matter how strange and unfamiliar they are.

“It is not easy to scout out opponents,” Given how much you were willing to bet. A meagre brooch that passed down to you as an heirloom is considered a mere child’s decoration to them. But to pawn it, and pay the compounded interest is not ideal.

“I would have thought others would think I would be easy prey to battle considering my connection to you. ” Another concerning thing is that he was recently promoted into the newly established circle called; ‘The Court’ as the ‘King of Coins’. With that kind of title, it would have garnered much attention to you as a chance of mooching off of him. But the juxtaposition of your initial plan, it might as well crumble to dust.

Eyes closed, as you tapped your finger against our arm, "Don't worry, you can just depend on me for now.” Pantalone gestures over to the basket woven object next to the bags of designer clothing,

" Come on now, I got some sandwiches and snacks. I even got a reserve space for us at Jovino’s.” It was almost like you could imagine him wagging his tail, if he has one that is. Opening your eyes just to face away from him with an aspirated expression.

“Pantalone, I appreciate that you would at least take this a tad seriously.” Voicing another concern of yours to him, it is not like a housepet to have a say against their owner. That is at least one thing that sets you apart from them, you are merely ill-stricken with fortune.

That seemed to make him frown, "What's so wrong in having a break once in a while, senpai?" He pouted, it is just so frustrating to see the cul-de-sac of your labour. “You do not have to push yourself," the Rex of earthly desires huffed, crossing his arms. Though, seemingly to understand your point.

Your last opponent, Miss Patisilinia, one of the somewhat richer students yet within your reach of having a higher chance for freedom, had stood you up at the last moment. Like the others who you challenged fell and failed to obtain the winds' breath. Choices thawing thinner and inconceivable each time you try. Treasured assets on hand were resorted to liquefying, thus transferring to the Regrator whenever you lost and he won it back for you. Sitting down on the bed, its plush memory foam sank from the weight.

You can't keep this up, especially the dripping pile of hallowed promises being shouldered by him. ‘Are you even productive enough that another person will have to sweep you off your feet?!’

"How long will this string of mishaps continue?" Pulling on your hair and throwing yourself back on the bed, you’re at wits end. This never ending cess pool game ping-pong of unpaid debt and loans are the heaviest burden of any gambler.

The investor of the hundreds if not dozens of assets under his keen watch tried to comfort you, “ Senpai, please–" Face softened, coming closer and leaning down on the bed next to you to place his gloved hand on your shoulder.

How vexing! To think he claimed himself as your Kohai…

Brushing him off, gently. Turning your back on him while still laying on the bed, mumbling in a low voice you said: "I, this is insufferable." Even though he hasn’t done anything to harm nor force you to do stuff for him, it is kind of him, compared to what others could force such repulsive commands they’ll give you. He does bring you along to his trips, meals, and seemingly keen on listening to your financial advice.

"You could find someone, you just haven't met them yet," Pantalone leaned his head on your side. “Wait a little longer okay, they’re just provoking you to lose your temper.” While that is true, you don’t have anything worthwhile anymore by that time comes.

Much like the previous school vice-president; Oscar, once a wealthy man now turned into a tumbling jester upon loss to one of the Court.

Your throat feels like someone is suffocating you.“How much do I owe you?” one-hundred and eighty-five school days since you were in liability. Those insulting names they called you; ‘Bonny this, Bonny that.’ You were not some sycophant to Pantalone.

Pantalone hesitates as he dictates the amount you lost and he gained. “Do you want me to put it in the journal for you?” You were never fond of putting things on paper. Though certainly grateful that he did not place a compounded interest rate on it nor ask anything much more.

Not even facing him and letting him lay on your side still, “No, no need.” Before you were turned into a house pet, he was a considerably casual gambler, in your eyes at least. Always hanging from the sidelines after you had taught him the ways of the school. Despite his accumulated ranks, he had much rather spend his time with you.

Always so aware of this growing affections, politely declining of his yearning grandiose amore so he would find another that would suit him.

“What am I going to do with you?” The bespeckled, inky haired lad sighed, sitting up from the bed knowing he might not be able to convince you to go on a picnic with him. Not in this state at least. “We really need to loosen you up a bit…” Adding that statement.

With a clenched fist that scrunched up the bedding, “I do not need rest, what I need are answers to solutions. I cannot just be idle,” Dismissive of his idea of being so still, being on standby only feasts upon the Damocles that hangs over you.

Muttering as well as honoring you, “Senpai.” Lazy eyes that stared back at him, realising the singed contemplation of his words.

“ My apologies, I was just–” you say, trying to retract your sentence.

His gloves hand gave pause. " It is understandable considering your position, but please, as for who I am now, I am responsible for your well being. So, please, just this once: humour me. " He pleaded, with softened stillness. Even with his plea, you know your answer to him out of contrite.

Lights erratically move, distasteful music thrums through the speakers of the dance room floor. Laughter of haughty, grim socialites made clear. This is not your forte; Abuse of substance, intimate comfort and loose tongue of conflict, it all reign supreme in the Jester’s playground.

Thanks to Pantalone for the early reservations, still wearing a similar attire from last week now lay resting behind the trinket curtains that poorly give privacy, one cascade down on one side. Sitting on the semi-circle couch with a table in the middle, across from you is a briefcase of his.

Then entered the beast that swaggered “ Are you having fun, Senpai? " Smiled Pantalone, holding a bottle of champagne in his hand and pouring himself a glass that uncomfortably sits at the edge of the rim.

Holding in your tongue that you clearly do not want it to spill over. Hesitant hands held the thin stem of the glass before your resenting gaze peered at the sparkling money that flowed into the clear oubliette, a reflection returned even the most boldest gaze.

Only the booming silence between you in this false box of seclusion remained evident, it is concerning to know that the annual after finals party that promises darkness for depraved emotions. Blaring lights of multi-colored dangers and intangible noises that pass in and out to the other ear. The bottle of champagne was then placed at the table in front of you.

“ Senpai, you do not need to be so, uptight." His posture mimics one of yours, before carefully taking your own glass by the rim from you to grab your attention to him.

“ I have no words, but reserved for any actual opponent. “ And stayed silent you did. Stewing with self-made rejection and tears to brood about your own misery.

The ever artful smile on his face is still, strobing light of pristine dread hit his face. He then hums and gives the gold coloured champagne back to you.

“Since the night is still so young, how about we entertain your idea of freedom?" Standing over you as he raised his glass.

There it is, that uneasiness that settles in your gut. Switching from alert thoughts to another.

Staring at the flute wine that he proposed the prospect of your world cage to be open.

“Look around you, Senpai. Everyone is having fun except you. “ his own cup that greedily has his ooze rest almost readily to the top, only taking careless, shy sips of it. Controlled hands that move so freely, making gestures to the people of the dance floor, not caring for the singular drop of extravagant affluence on to the ground from his prize.

“ I will allow you to let loose, just this once." Pushing up the lenses to properly rest on the bridge of his nose.

“Have some fun,” he pulled out from the suitcase of what seemed to be a stack of 1000 yen similar to a smooth brick and tossed it onto the low table in front of you.

“A gift from me, to help you get started." He hesitated for a brief moment, trying to find the right word to not put a blow on what little dignity you have left.

“Why?” What you gave is an incomplete and incorrect phrase, my dear, it should be—.

“Because: as your Kohai, companion, and fellow schoolmate. It is not wrong to find a supporting pillar of strength for a time.” He replied with confidence, swirling the almost overflowing champagne in his hand that it was held so absent-minded-ly that’s been tainted.

But before you could muster up the strength to phrase your concerns, he raised his free hand. “I am well aware that you do not take charity lightly, which is why I propose we play a game; once that you have found yourself in a predicament,” He then raised his transparent glass to you, your face seemed to blend with the ever bubbly liquid.

" I shall step in, now knowing this gambling world has too many variations for one such as yourself.” He spoke as if he already knew the outcome and already decided your fate in a mere glance—.

‘But this could be our only chance.’ Muttered Es, a lone quiet voice of your own mind that rivaled your own Ego Rex. Yet the darkness that slither up to your eyes of a shadow that mirrored you.

‘Take it and be permanent in a state, or never take it and be forever mournful?’ You and I knew what must be done.

Without a word, you hastily took the dough that was presented to you. Its grainy texture of bills felt like it was meant to be savored, every sliver of it.

“ Very good, now, if you excuse me.” He then makes a toast before swiftly and voraciously gulping it in one go of the liquid gold in his hand followed by a server in muted colors collecting the empty container from him.

“ I shall leave you to your hunt; enjoy the night, Senpai.” The ravenous bespeckled young man bid you farewell for now with a shy look on his closed eyed smile before waving and leaving with the briefcase in hand.

Instead of just waiting for some sod to take the initiative, to think you’d be your own worst enemy; the worst kind of parasite, an opportunist.

___________

“Three of a kind!"

How quickly the tables have turned. Earlier you were so desperate for a breath of relief. Underhand tactics are below you, even if it does give leverage. The Ego Rex does not approve of it.

“Flush!"

Gasping, you are running out of time, four hundred quib and it still isn’t enough to ensure your freedom that drown out by the singer from the speaker; ‘Keep your focus’

Cheating hands that tried to play you into their game, it was clear you were not here to entertain the folly they wanted.

“Pay up!" Yelling out against the voices of the masses that cooped in this dreary game edifice, Simply esurient!

‘Win it’

Coughing out the smoke that the people rolled in lavished mold, the scent is ever nauseous enough to choke on it. The giggles from the gaggle of salacious ladies cooed and comforted the loser from his loss.

‘Maybe lose it all.’

Another hour has passed as you look down at the total winnings you have. It was not enough to satiate the looming debt that chained you. Any slip ups are not allowed, once you do��� well, let us hope we do not need to think of it much.

‘So we roll the die, see where it may fall’

From there you spotted a game of sic bo. Your mind tells you it is a simple game, but you knew better than to blindly leave it all to chance.

Nearby are the whispers of wealth; ‘—Oh, to have dreams that are of grandeur!’ ‘ One such as thine should we the (?) feast upon the nines.’ ‘A little wait is all you need—’

Just as you were about to leave, taking a single step, a certain person caught your eye.

‘ — spin the wheel, see whom it may call.’

It was Patisilinia..!

“You!" Stomping towards her, pushing aside the other loitering faceless. She was playing a card game with three other students who wore a similar outfit as hers. Your hand placed on her shoulder and forced her to look at you.

You could see her clearly. Ruffled long black hair that covered one side of her face, and that unnerving eye that stared back at you. Even after the school day, she still wears the school uniform so boldly, the only difference is that she has a gold earring hanging on her earlobe.

No words came out from Patisilinia, instead a young man with long red hair stepped forward.

“ If it isn’t Little Bonny, savant of the Elite King of pentacles. Enjoying the night of ” A young flirtatious, slick red haired man winked. The wild right eye seemed to be glittering with lucre trained on you.

You recognized him in an instant, they were the former Elite C. A. R. D.s that was dissolved, Oscar: Ci-devant vice-president, The Duke of Diamonds. But why, out of all the people you could have run into.

“Leave her alone, brother. We have no ill qualms with her." The person on the other seat said, they look similar to Oscar but with shorter and fluffier hair. His eyes are obscured by a metal masque, with only a hint of gold piercing through the eye slit. His apparel mimics those of impeccable discipline and emotion numbing obligation, the Regent of Cups, Justin.

What are the two C. A. R. D.s doing here? Especially playing with Patisilinia, To mock you even more? Or was this a trap laid by—

The Trampled stud raised his hand, “Funny you should say that brother, but we have every right to pick a fight with her. “ Deft finger dragged on the wooden border of the table as he walked over to you. Aggressively swipe off the dust using his finger off the table before pinching it off his skin. Not breaking eye contact with you for even a moment.

“How about a game, Miss Secretary?” He replied with a shy sly smile aimed toward you, " a little tit for tat, if you know what I mean.” The same finger he used to drag on the table is now slowly caressing your cheek on the backside.

Now is not the time for theatrics, pushing the red head away from you and giving him a stern look.

“You are overstepping the boundaries, warlock." Crossing my arms over my chest, the hint of chime from my choker sounded.

“No need to be so abrasive, dear. You’re just in time for a little, reunion.” It was clear that he was not appreciative of you appearing but, that inane grin he has indicated his intentions.

The dealer then walked in with a brand new deck of cards, it was way more than the standard bicycle was used. No, this was way taller and foreboding.

“ Let’s play a game, just like old times, Sweet-ums.” Taunted the one who used to be your closest companion. Grabbing the deck of new cards that seem to be a perfect fit in his hand.

With a huff, brushing past him. “ I don’t have time for this, Oscar.” You then grabbed Patisilinia’s wrist to drag her, but was stopped when Oscar grabbed the girl’s other hand.

" Up-up-up! She stays, the contract states; she has to complete her obligations.” He wagged his free finger with such smugness.

“Bullshit" replied you, who knew you couldn’t do anything for her now. Just as helpless as you were to the whims of stringed strangers.

“ Read the terms and conditions, funny Bonny! " Oscar laughed. " Now, let go, former equerry. The boss has more than one query." A single tug on your fellow teen made you let go, you could see her staring back so longingly as he dragged her back to the gambling table.

‘Another one lured into the sweet promises of untold glimmer of joy, little servant.

They never change, neither did you.

“Release her, now, Duke." His steps were stopped once you made your move, humming in mild curiosity.

“Come back to your senses, did ya?"

Justin took a step forward, a small frown made present, " Savant, you do not have to humor my brother’s antics, it is all just a mere jest to him. Turn away and continue your hunt.” Yet despite that, perhaps that is why you decided to step up against them.

“Save it, Jush. Perhaps we could make a deal with the one who raised their sword.” The smile upon Oscar’s visage rises this familiar trepidation. Once fearful now the every fiber in you, yearns to gnaw at him using primal discomfort.

Just as you were about to pounce at the short red haired ‘Duke’. “ What is it that you desire, little Scintillating friend? '' Oscar suddenly asked, as if the world went dim, spotlights aimed, leading all eyes upon the sou of a soul!

Dry lips parted to speak,“ My freedom. ” You wanted to graduate from this hell hole, though you didn’t expect his next words.

“ You’ll have it then. “ He said nonchalantly, of course, you aren’t stupid. It reeks with foul intentions.

" What’s your plan, Oscar? " Your eyes then darted around from him to various spots around the room, even upon the dealer and on the poor student.

“ Can’t an old friend help another? “ Scoffing at his words, knowing he wouldn’t do it for no real reason, and friends are no exemption.

He then suddenly added, " Well, if you are that negative about me, how about this? ” Oscar then walked back toward the table and made a hand gesture. " Round one is on me, and round two: I’ll unshackle little itty bitty missy if you win. ” Pointing at the student who wears a bucket hat, she had not spoken since you entered the room.

The sickly looking girl in school attire, you always knew everyone in the school. And yet that student with the yellow arm band eludes your watchful eye.

Even though you have no obligation, and you were about to gamble with her earlier. Still you stood up for her, somehow. Perhaps, it was by fate that you wanted her to be bound to you, as you were to Pantalone? What maddening sadism came over to you?

Oscar gave the deck to the dealer with gentle ease." You do know how to play our favorite, right? " The red haired and vocal socialite asked, and you responded with a nod.

" Excellent! Let the stage, begin. ” Both players then drew a card from the darken dealer. Tired eyes beheld, three people holding their cups up in the air in celebration. I threw the card down on the table so they could see it as well.

From his side the Devil card of the major arcana was thrown, facing upside down. The chains that connected from its fist to the two sinful beings.

“ Lowest, go first. '' Oscar chuckled as the dealer collected the two cards quietly to begin the shuffle. Giving five cards to both of us.

The Lovers; A trump card! Queen of Swords, that could be of use as well later on a bid. Three of coins, ace of coins, and ten of coins. All three are useful to sacrifice until a good card comes up.

It was silent in the game room, the muffled sounds of the songstress could be heard ,

‘Give into temptation.’ As if!

The silent dealer spread a set of cards, revealing one of them.

“Call” You announced before pushing some chips and organized. Face turned unrelenting, tuning out most of the sounds and focused on the game and Oscar. But not before you have felt the eyes of a coyote staring down, watching your every move.

Fingers tapped against the table, as his own brother took his side beside Oscar just as always. “ How long will you last against me, or better yet, why didn’t you ask us for help? ” The ‘Duke’ asked.

The cards felt like they were moving too fast, the ticking of the clock sounded so loud even with all the chatter and debauched music playing. Skin touching the grooves of the linen card, as a set after the other were exchanged.

“ Was pride too much for you? ” he childishly tilted his head but then broke into a sly smile. “ Or was it— ” But you stopped him, if you weren't in a situation like this; a good wring of his neck would surely che—.

“ If you want to continue to gamble against me, I advise: you should keep that mouth of yours shut, Oscar. ” Silencing him, as you gave a side eye. Gripping the cards ever close to you.

“Pft, of course, of course,” He waved your words off.

It was a decent, fair, dead-honest trade. By the time you made your bid on the card the ‘first’ round had ended.

“Round two~” Oscar sighed, taking a sip of the sweating beverage next to him.

As the dealer gathered the cards once more, the short haired colleague spoke “ You were always the brave one. "

“ Perhaps that’s why so many leave mountains of love letters or do anything to be close to you.” He continues his words as he glances up at the card dealer who had their own austere expression, staring at the shuffling cards.

“Stop beating around the bush, you flaming-boy-band-cabaret.” You knew what he was going to do. All he speaks of is mere trickery.

“ You’re the center of everyone’s attention, why leave? “ You could see the green tint of his eyes scanning you up and down. Not a word was spoken as the line of fibery cards hit each other loudly.

Another five sets of cards unto the table in front of us.

‘You will win this…’

Empowering yourself with such flimsy words. As you recall your past victories, this gambling peer seems to be indulging your serious face.

Another somewhat alright hand that showed themselves, Justice, by the dealer. “ This feeling, I almost forgot these emotions… " Chuckled Oscar, twisted ecstasy displayed upon his face.

" Was it your heart, or is it just mine? “ What is he blubbering about? Is he trying to stall again?

Glancing back at your hand, reveals: Eight, nine, ten of swords, while the last two revealed to be seven of cups and king of swords…

No trump cards to play, seems like the king of swords is your only hope, if you played your cards right and bluff Oscar into folding, you could have a chance. ‘You could do this.’

‘Success so clearly in view, but is it merely a trick of the light?’

“Miss.”

Someone with a soft voice spoke. Looking beside you is Patisilinia, her hand is placed upon your shoulder. “ You do not have to do this, it’s alright. There is no need to prove anything to anyone. “ ‘The end waits, for the slightest lapse of concentration, afterall.’

Instead of being grateful for her words, the walls seem to whisper conspiracy in your ears. ‘ prove what? Is she one of them? She was suspiciously quiet earlier, she must be. ’ Keyed eyes glance up and down on her appearance, she is equally fretful and wrung out like a drenched shirt.

“ Do not talk like that as if you knew me for a long time, Patisilinia.” Such coldness of your response made the one eyed girl back off.

“Sorry, you just look really stressed and… “ Leaning closer to whisper; " That card guy, can you tell me about him? “

Looking at the plain looking man that wears a golden bow tie, eyes shadowed by their ruffled black hair. Even the smile is so lovingly, yet so evidently sinister.

Thoughts of what this could mean have entered. ‘Who is he?’, ‘do those two have a connection with him?’, ‘is this a ploy?’

This stirring agitation raises more alarms. Gripping onto the luxurious playing card granted more signs of edged awareness.

" Why don’t we switch it up a little? “ With a sly lazy grin, he tossed a cheque on the gambling table, a cashout that weighs more than your debt.

" All, or nothing. “ He added.

You had no money to pay back should you lose. “Bastard, spill it, this is your attempt to save face, isn’t it?! “ Pointing an accusation at him, to which he calmly and teasingly replied; “I have no idea what you’re talking about darling."

‘Self-Preservation is paramount at all costs!’

Refusing to show even a hint of woe, you have failed to realize that there are more than the people in the room who are staring at you.

“ I won’t let the battle end your way, coward! “ You have no idea what is up his sleeves, though for sure it isn’t pleasant.

Hasty gaze placed upon the cards you’ve held. There is no point in integrity if the opponent has no respect!

‘in this decrepit tomb of refined fashion.’

With grit teeth, and rekindled blade. Despite of Ego Rex had said, securing the win is more important than being sorry and ended up with even more trouble.

‘Come on, let's just enjoy the spice// (Of) Life and feel so free//’

Vision slightly blurry for a moment as you heard the songstress’ words. Fueling you to push onward to a better possibility. Though, it is most probably why they prefer this kind of masquerade.

“ This Someone has not rusted yet. " The Dealer mused, as he began to shuffle the cards with ease.

With using every trick you have accumulated over your days as a normal student. It was going relatively well, until you noticed your points are slowly building up compared to Oscar.

“Hoho, surely this will be our very best bet.” Chuckled Oscar, though him speaking like that makes you feel on edge.

—

In a fit of illusioned madness, everything seems to blend and melt once Oscar prompts his arm on the table, revealing his conniving smile.

You should have known that being so wily and clever, deceiving and swindling never ever makes a person so clever. Was this, who you truly are? The scummiest of all gamblers.

“Save your dignity, little Bonny." Hearing the chair being scraped against the floor caused you to stand up and look at the hulking figure of the Captain that followed the wealthy student Regrator.

You tried to follow suit in an attempt at pulling the ‘bodyguard’ of Pantalone. “Capitano— wait!” you cried out, disregarding tugging on to his arm and silky clothes, " Don’t tell Pantalone! Please!" Tears escaping your eyes as it all happened so fast that you couldn’t process what just happened.

“My apologies, but he is already here." Eyes widen as you see Pantalone, opening his briefcase from the entrance of the room. In one swing, an unfathomable amount of paper bills began to shower everyone in raining crisp geld.

" I’m disappointed, Senpai. I told you if you were in a bind, I wouldn’t mind that I have to help you out. “ No, that’s not the look of a stymied person.

" Let us fully relax, and relish all of these! " His voice seems so primal yet refined, as if his inner demons were being satiated by the act he had committed. Followed up with a wave of his other hand to catch a wad of bills to fan himself.

“Capitano, please help me!" Backing away from the affluent stud and begging at the bodyguard to help.

He stayed silent, making the alarm in your mind blaring. Facing the three you were just with.

“Oscar! Justin! Pastilinia, Please! “ The more you tried to scream out the three would answer you the same. Attempts to move closer failed.

" What isn’t real, could never fade. I truly enjoyed your performances, Regrator, Captain, and of course you as well dear little Servant." The dealer smiled and waved so cheekily.

" Pastilinia! “ Screeching out, anxiety from the realistic danger turned aggressive. Dilated eyes focused on the one eyed girl before you heard a soft click.

" Huh… ? " Moving your gead slightly to see the ever twinkling face of the Regrator just over your shoulder. Not realizing he had let go of the fan money and briefcase to attach a leather leash that’s wrapped around his other fist.

“Dearest Senpai. You haven’t forgotten our promise do you?" Breaking away from his space.

" I can still win! I just need a little bit more time. “ he tugged on the leather to pull you back, making you gag and move closer to him. “Right, Pastilinia!?"

When you realized that your bargains no longer reach his ears, “ How could you?! “ Your aggressive tendencies became apparent as hands reaching out for the sickly girl and the rest that basically sold you out to lash out on.

“ I’m sorry but the Jester promises us happiness as well.” Pastilinia replied softly.

Justine scoffed, " a fistful of happiness more like."

“ SCREW YOU! " You roared as you tried to go over to the three but somehow Pantalone managed to get a good grip on the string to drag you away

“Now, now, we don’t threaten a stranger with a good time, Senpai." No matter how many times you hear him say that, it is always so unnerving.

On your knees and clawing at the carpeted floor, you would have held tightly onto if it weren’t for the money he spilled earlier to make it even more difficult. “ Please, have mercy Sire, Pantalone, Regrator.” Never in your life would you think of being seen this pathetic, infront of your old friends at least.

As a last ditch to hold on to, " MASTER!!!" You screamed that held so much vile emotions into the night. In hopes of making out of this treacherous cage alive.

He once dreamed in the dark for the most part, and now, it is your turn little pet.

Bonus cutscene:

Pantalone truly did wanted to be the one to save the day, yet you did not have a say in what he trade away. He waited for this moment ever since his first day in this academy.

“That’s not how you do that." He chuckled as he moved over to you so he could aid you in putting the clothes on, well more like a jewelry thats running across your body like a sash it doesn’t even conceal anything. It felt cold to the touch, making you shiver.

Pantalone steps back to admire the model that wore nothing but gold jewelry on the bed.

Of course, you felt shame that you tried to cover your chest and hid your lower parts using the blanket. No matter what you did, all it does is add more tease for him to unwrap.

After a glance at the name wheel, he smiled before picking up wrapped candy and putting it in his mouth.

This bewilders you until he pressed his lips against yours, passing the hard peice of candy to you. It tasted chokingly sweet yet sour at the same time.

Tongues twirled and swirled around the hard candy, making loud wet squelches.

He moaned as he lean closer to enjoy it further until you were almost going to fall backwards on the bed if you haven’t clung to his clothes.

With one last push, he successfully laid you on the bed, making the gold on your body made satisfying clinks.

“Be a good girl, for master~" he tugged on the leash, rolling up into his fist.

Confused on what he wanted you to do, you only gave a whine. Though afraid if you pissed him off again.

" Down here, Sweet.”

He purred as he pull down his trousers revealing his shaft.

" It’s alright, take it slow.. be careful.” He guided you closer that his free hand is gripping your hair.

“Be… mindful.” He thrusted into your mouth, letting out soft grunts and moans.

The jingle of the gold pieces on your body sound whenever you and him made skin-on-skin contact.

“Af… after this… you.. you got .. puzzle… solve.. “ Bated breath, Pantalone reminded you of the tast he given you. Though it was an excuse to get behind you and do unspeakable things.

Hints of tears began to appear on your eyes as you felt his tip poking down your throat. You wanted to speak, but all you could do is suck on this one-eyed snake.

The night is only half eaten afterall.

[system-architect]

BELATED asura appreciation week day 1 - talk about one of your asura ocs! i had a busy week but there's never a bad time to talk about my guys lmfao

gunner is my main character and is also my commander! he has a non-commander au as well but i mostly think about the commander version. don't let his appearance fool you-- he's about 185 years old right now, the mists just kind of pickled him

he's a rata novan who ended up getting hurled into the mists due to uncontained ley energy overloading the portal he was traveling through while trying to escape the chak. after escaping the mists, he got his masters in synergetics, had a brief stint in the inquest researching the mists/eternal alchemy, accidentally blew up a lab after making his collider go supercritical, hid out briefly in the maguuma wastes, and then fled into the fractals to lay low while being a fractal explorer. in commander au, he's eventually caught by the peacemakers and then sort of leashed to zojja (in the same way canach was to anise) and sucked into the personal story timeline from there on

the freak accident w/ the portal left him with permanent physical-magical-spiritual scarring, and on top of turning him into a revenant, it 'blew open' the ley channels within his own body. he's unable to properly regulate his own magical flow and soaks up uncontained magic like a sponge, with his condition worsening over time as more gods and dragons are killed

the extra magic has some perks and is why he's been able to so "easily" hold himself in combat as the commander, buuuut if he isn't careful, he hits critical mass and his body attempts to purge all of the excess magic at once. the magic trying to vacate forcefully is extremely painful and incapacitates him for awhile, and is super dangerous to anyone around him. he usually gets warning signs prior to this happening in the form of vertigo, headaches, and 'auras' (physically seeing ley anomalies and magical flows). the different pieces of tech built into his armor are regulators (built by one of his "coworkers") that are supposed to help slowly diffuse the magic out over time to prevent this. this 'ability' has won him a few fights, but the cost is high.

i think that's all? HERE'S SOME OTHER FUN FACTS ABOUT HIM:

he's trans + gay

he has adhd and tourette's syndrome. both of those get worse the more magic he has in his body (or the more stressed he is lol)

he has ley magic and spectral agony scarring all over the right side of his body

mallyx and shiro are his canon legends, kalla sometimes comes and goes at will

he obtains astralaria during heart of thorns, and he ALSO has a canon nevermore that he gets during icebrood saga

his name is technically gunn but he just plain prefers going by gunner and that's effectually become his name

he had Normal Organs at the start of PS but over time his magical corruption has turned his innards/mouth/teeth a glowy kaiju blue

[stephaniebrownslover]

Creepypasta Humans vs. Vampires AU

Characters and which group they are in;

Killed by the vampires

>Jeff The Killer

>Bloody Painter

>Lulu

>Dr. smiley

>Skroll

>Emra

>Nathan The Nobody

Became one of the vampires

>Jane The Killer

>Hoodie

>Kate The Chaser

In human camps that set up by vampires to feed themselves

>Nick Vanil

>Nightcrawler

>Wilson The Basher

>Nemesis

>Cat Hunter

>Nina The Killer(2)

Rebellion group, backup support, planning part

>Sally

>Masky

>Ticci Toby

>Nurse Ann

>Nightmare Ally

>Slenderman

>Splendorman

>Trenderman

>Dr. Pain

>Rouge

>X-Virus

>Lifeless Lucy

>Lily The Dollmaker

>Suicide Sadie

>Weeping Forest

Rebellion group, frontline, guard part

>Zalgo

>Vladimir

>Stripes

>Laughing Jill

>Sadiya

Those who are neither vampires or human and have fun in the apocalypse on their own

>Ben Drowned

>Offenderman

>Kagekao

>Candy Pop

>April Fools

>Candy Cane

>Laughing Jack

Single ones

>Chris The Revenant

>Papa Grande

Gang 1 not affiliated with any group

>Clockwork

>Zero

>Judge Angels

>Puppeteer

>Zachary

Gang 2 not affiliated with any group

>Mary Vaughn

>Jessie Richardson

>Homicidal Liu

Which characters profile page would you like to see?

Btw I'm not an artist.

[lambment]

they couldn’t resist that last zinger

[pact-pooh-bah]

Hey there! I'm Gamma.

25, he/they

Thought it was about time to make a blog for gw2 specifically! You can find my main here: @gammaneise

This blog'll be for oc posting and art if I actually get around to it.

Hope to see y'all~

Characters:

NOTE: some of these guys are summarised in a non-updated manner. Updating info is probably gonna require a whole lot of story progress for each.

This being said; spoilers!

Charr

Bassus - Blood Legion Guardian, hardass. (Possibly tribune AU wise)

Riaraff - Blood Legion Warrior, gruff dad vibes. Long term rivals with Bassus and his ex-warbandmate.

Velus - Blood Legion Revenant. Bad rep for being friendly/empathetic with ghosts. Accepted into Riaraff's warband when turned away from others.

Spitz - Iron Legion Engineer. Riaraff's sister, tough but friendly. Specialises in artillery and warmachines.

Lupis - Ash Legion Thief. Nihilistic and abrasive. Currently working with the Order of Whispers.

Vocula - Ash Legion(?) Ranger. Reserved and stubborn. Specialises in training arachnids and insects; especially devourers.

Myrrha - Reaper and Pact Commander. Jovial despite everything and a little out of touch. Overly confident with herself at the worst of times. Came back a little glowier with some help from Grenth.

Ignatius - Blood Legion Fire Elementalist, ex- Flame Legion. Currently serves in Riaraff's warband; his recruitment severing the initial group.

Human

Mae - Guardian, raised in a family of Canthan engineers within the bustle of New Kaineng. Aided the Crystal Blooms in watching over Aurene. Now that Cantha is no longer isolated, she's taken to travelling Central Tyria out of curiosity, bringing her tigris Jun along with her.

Sying - Berserker, ex pseudo-herald of Balthazar. She swore allegiance to him in the belief that he'd answered her prayers to save her family, and stubbornly clung to her beliefs until the reality of his motives became too concrete to ignore. Currently works for the Vigil, where she utilises her blessings of strength to protect those in need.

Gerold - An engineer living in Divinity's Reach. Ran a simple family business before EVERYTHING else happened and he isn't very happy about the change in plans.

Katsuro - Specter, a Canthan assassin borne of a long line that specialised in his profession. He takes the tradition of his work seriously and refuses to cut corners on the job.

Amahle - Mirage, of Kournan descent. Taking a liking to illusionary magic as a form of entertainment, she travelled north to Vabbi where she uses her talents for performance, usually working alongside the Lyssan Fools. Facing danger from the Awakened, Branded and the remnants of Balthazar, she's tasked herself with spreading joy in the face of uncertainty and fear.

Tamir - An undead Sunspear scourge that was born on the precipice of King Palawa Joko's reign, narrowly avoided becoming one of Joko's Awakened after succumbing to illness via the wards his mother provided at birth and throughout his life. He travels throughout Elona on his griffon, Naaji, aiding those in need and stamping out Joko's army wherever he can.

Munir - Air elementalist with Vabbian heritage that works among the Durmand Priory. Always charged with a current (he gives awful static shocks) and talks very quickly. The majority of his studies involve the djinn, both the friendly and not-so-friendly sort.

Norn

Hrani - Guardian, kind, soft-spoken but still an enthusiast of the hunt. Accompanied by his trusty springer, he travels around (preferably icy) mountainous regions.

Gunnhildr - Warrior, an older, talented fighter who's trained to watch over and travel through the mists. She mentors youth to follow in her footsteps.

Ingri- Revenant, Hrani's younger sibling and a student of Gunnhildr's. A handful to deal with and cocky to boot, but ultimately a talented fighter.

Dagrun - Engineer, worked to invent a method of shapeshifting that would be more efficient and last longer, though ended up accidentally permanently fusing herself with a cat instead while testing it. Carries the same air of aloofness expected from a cat.

Fjolmmod - Ranger, an older champion of the hunt who keeps to himself these days. Gunnhildr was an old hunting partner/rival of his, and they're still close friends.

Bardi - Mesmer, a budding scholar working within the Durmand Priory. Though he spends a fair amount of time keeping an eye on Munir on his escapades, he has his own studies to focus on.

Fridgeir - Ice Elementalist from a family fractured by loyalty towards Jormag. Though he takes himself a little too seriously, he's typically very reserved and not confident.

Asura

Dnulle - Guardian, following in her father's footsteps by studying golemancy and creating new variants of defensive golems. Polite, but very stubborn (and vengeful).

Pjug- Warrior, Dnulle's father. Before the divorce, he and his wife invented new golems together, though these days he specialises in manual piloting golems and upgrades to their designs. Undoubtedly, his sour attitude and refusal to admit wrongdoing led to their separation.

Phibba - Revenant, Dnulle's twin sister and Pjug's daughter. Has an air of refined elegance around her and prefers the finer things in life, like experimenting with the Inquest.

MNG0 (Mungo) - Engineer, an inventor of elixirs, explosives and firearms. Having an unhealthy level of confidence, she throws caution to the wind with her experiments. She considers Dagrun her assistant, partially being the cause of her condition, and the pair travel and experiment together.

Bhoppu - Ranger, spent most of her studies out in the Caledon forests and focuses on inventions that encourage symbiosis between asura and their environment, including new methods of cooperation with wildlife.

Dhippek - Mesmer, a notorious prankster with a terrible track record study-wise. He never ended up presenting his thesis and left to live amongst the skritt. He currently works for the Order of Whispers, being incredibly talented in the way of glamours and disguises; and not much else.

Lhil- Necromancer, a tiny, megalomaniacal reanimator with an overly dramatic manner. Though he's a talented necromancer, he's no lich, but he'll certainly act like one. Lhil's magic takes a toll on his body, and he often has to sacrifice health for power.

Ghossa - Earth Elementalist, and Bhoppu's granddaughter. Her inventions centred around sustainable agriculture and the betterment of crop output, and she spends her time teaching progeny about the elements and how to harness them.

Sylvari

Ainefinn - Dragonhunter, born in the Cycle of Dusk. A member of the Crystal Blooms and a good friend of Mae's. Typically cheerful and high-energy, and willing to go wherever the wind blows or her dream takes her. Initially a valiant, she considers her wyld hunt complete now that the elder dragon threat has been dealt with, and chooses not to accept that title any longer.

Buchran - Bladesworn, borne of a different tree. He shows disdain for other sylvari's way of life and lived disguised amongst human bandits before Riaraff took him in. A very unorthodox cowboy. Stubborn, snarky and dangerous, though he has his soft spots.

Faolan - Revenant, an unknown creature in the Mists that manifested as the head of a sylvari once finally finding a way out. Mae's family built a body for them, and they've travelled with her, since. Has an air of robotic politeness about them, and a sense of curiosity about their world.

Briudris - Engineer, shrewd and analytical, working for the Vigil. Incredibly to the point and lacks patience for arguments or discussion, thus coming across as rude to those unaccustomed to him.

Calyseach - Thief, a trained assassin who takes her wyld hunt very seriously. She finds interacting with her peers rather awkward, and prefers to work on her own.

Sechnall- Ranger, his wyld hunt foretold the slaying of a dragon, and too intimidated to take up the call, he separated himself from the pale tree and the majority of his community. Disguised as a travelling human bard, he's made a reputation as quite the charmer and free spirit. His overgrown fern hound, Willow, follows him everywhere, with her own personal glamour.

Brychaen - Mesmer, the one who aided Sechnall in the creation of his glamour. Curiosity pointed him in the direction of Divinity's Reach, and he takes an interest in exploring other communities and cultures in a more personal manner. Though he frowns upon Sechnall's abandonment of his duties, he feels a certain level of responsibility towards him and considers him a friend.

Catan - Necromancer, once a firstborn, now a mordrem. One of the first to answer Mordremoth's call, he found little else important, having a colder, detached manner with his peers, coupled with a lack of respect.

Meretilde - Elementalist, with no specific preference (though she enjoys the combustive properties of fire). Her volatile attitude makes her an enjoyable companion, but not as reliable. She has an almost noble style and air about her, at least until the opportunity for action arises.

[musesofawolf]

13th-dragon-prince - [Prior]

This was not Ul’dah, the merchants they would speak too would be those of Revenant’s Toll, already well knowing of the scaled fool’s penchant for lacking cloth or interest in the chill. They would know him for blades of teeth and friendly laughter with hatchlings. He was no ‘sunblinked mind’ of a ‘foreign Au Ra’ like when they had first arrived in The Source. Again the hand was waved, claws tapping against the metal of wolfish decorations, and the lizard made for that plumed mount as ever before, apparently no qualms to the idea of heading to market despite his vocal distaste.

︻デ═一・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Bryn was still chewing the jerky when that blue tongue stuck out teasingly, and he snorted in response to it, finishing off the food as he glanced towards Featherflame, at least until there was a disgruntled noise, and Whillow spoke.

The way he clipped "market", the roll of his eyes, it was clear he didn't approve of it, or liked it. Bryn had half a mind to ask why, but it was answered before he could, his lips twitching slightly at the mention of smells, sounds, and lies. Maybe he thought bartering was lying? Or truly believed the vendors were hiding something. Dull teeth... Wonder if I'm in that group.

He placed a hand on Featherflame, watching the little gecko cross his arms, slap that tail, and assume a disgruntled air. As if in memory. Which made Bryn's mind wander too.

He remembered the first time he had held a coin purse, felt the weight of gil in his hand and...nearly salivated over it. Growing up poor, with barely enough to survive when he was too weak to provide for himself, had left him with an odd sense of money. For a long time, he spent every gil he had, the salary he made with the Maelstrom flying out of his fist as soon as it hit it. And it took years, years of learning, of finally coming to grips with having gil - and a healthy dose of lectures from an Elezen friend - before he actually kept a surplus. Tucked away, hidden, in case of emergency.

The chuff of air, the narrowing of silver eyes, it made Bryn refocus, come out of the trance of memory just in time for the wave of clawed hands, and the press of one to his belly. His eyes flicked down, to the touch, wondering what it was for, or, wondering if it was to check his fullness. Could the little dragon know that just from a touch?

Although, the declaration of not needing gil did raise the question of who, or how, Whillow got food, or cloth - Oh, right. He didn't wear clothes. And with his natural hunting ability, perhaps he didn't actually need the market.

The other half though... He frowned, deeply, his eyes flickering a deeper silver, an angry silver, as he growled under his breath, shaking his head. "Anyone gives you a look like you are property, let me know. I will be happy to remind them that you are off limits."

It was with that thought in his mind that he swung himself onto Featherflame, lost in thought as he situated himself, waited for Whillow to mount as well, and then head off.

And of course, Whillow made sure the ride back was...as interesting as the one out. With a slightly flushed face, Bryn was petting Featherflame, already off her and draping her reigns over the hitching post, a few tied chocobo giving the red one envious looks as she preened like she was better than everyone else, and once he was certain she was situated, he was moving, heading towards the market and trusting the absolute tease of a dragon would follow.

The first of three stops was simple: selling the dragon teeth. The teeth themselves were not what drew a bounty, but the proof that the dragon's they once belonged to were dead. Handing them over to a specialty merchant who, after a brief description of where he could find the carcasses to collect any materials he might need, handed back two bags of gil (one decidedly larger than the other), and Bryn turned back with both, ready to split and give half to Whillow, only to be reminded by the gecko's acute lack of interest in what he was doing that he did not care for the coin of Eorzea.

Looking between the sizeable amount they had both just earned, he pocketed them, and then fixed Whillow with a stare, rumbling out as he moved towards the next stall he would call on. "Tell me, if you do not want coin, then what would you prefer instead? You helped bring down one of the dragons, and that means you deserve a payment beyond just your meal. So, by the time we leave the market, tell me what you would like, and I will give it to you." Nodding, he moved on, content to let the little lizard think on what he wanted his prize to be.

It was, in all aspects, a short trip to the market, Bryn swinging by two well known stalls to pick up a set of darker clothes, a coat similar to the one he wore, but in a deeper, darker black, forgoing a new shirt since the navy blue was perfect for the dark of night. However, if he was to truly hide...

For a few minutes, he was haggling, going back and forth with the stall owner over a thick, wide, well cut pelt of ink black fur. It was easily three times the size of the Hyur, clearly meant for a large bed, and the price for it was not cheap. But it was worth it, he figured, for the temporary use, and for cold nights on the road.

He finally got the vendor to agree to a more reasonable price, and he collected the large pelt, rolled nicely, after handing over the necessary coin, humming softly as he turned back to find out where, and what, the little dragon was doing in the place he clearly did not enjoy.

[breitzbachbea]

Day 5: Supernatural [GreSic]

My fourth entry for @hwsrarepairweek2022! Michele tries to keep the ghosts of his past under lock and key, but in Sicily, the dead don't stay dead.

Ship: Greece/Sicily [OC] (Herakles Karpuzi/Michele Vento) Set in an Human/Organized Crime AU Read it here on ao3

I've bolded the Organized Crime aspect of the AU, since there are clear allusions to the mafia in this One Shot. If you want to inform yourself and/or help with the fight against Mafiosi and for Social justice, check out the No Mafia Memorial & the Libera, an anti-mafia network.

I've learnt about all the Sicilian folklore used in this oneshot from the wonderful book Creature Fantastiche di Sicilia by Rosario Battiato and Chiara Nott! The title itself is a reference to it. In the chapter on turnati, bodies that have returned from beyond the grave, the book also details on how to deal with these revenants, "perché in Sicilia, i morti deve morire" - "Because in Sicily, the dead must die".

You'll find translations for the Sicilian words & context for the historical references at the end of the work.

Perché in Sicilia i morti dovrebbe morire

It was so quiet out here.

Last night still rang in Herakles’ head: bustling city streets full of people, the busy clink of kitchenware streaming out of restaurants and bars, groups of young people, their age and less, populating the countless piazzas.

“The twins love to be out here, with friends from school”, Michele had said while they had waited for some company he had invited. He hadn’t said twins – He had said gemellini. The little twins. No doubt however that his friends, the Simonides twins, wouldn’t also enjoy to stroll around the city without a care in the world. Gemelloni, the big twins indeed. They were growing older and more interested in joining Herakles in the business each day. Their interest wasn’t the same as the Bontade twins - not the bright-eyed vigour of reality denialism and adventure escapism, which propelled Marco and Lorenzo to be at Michele’s side.

Instead, Omar and Timothea had the kind heart of their father and the steadfastness of their mother, but most of all, their parents' stoic pragmatism.

They weren’t here. They were safe at home in Athens with their parents.

Maria had left with Marco and Lorenzo a day before Herakles had arrived. “Gone east for the weekend,” Michele had said. He had bought a bouquet of flowers and now arranged it into a vase. Herakles had been reclining on the living room’s couch, with his arm on the armest and his cheek rested against his fist. “Near Syracuse, a fun weekend for Mamma to get out for a while and for the boys to fool around on the beaches. I’d wish I could say to see some culture as well, but ah.” He had laughed and thrown his head back, before he tended to the flowers again . “I don’t think that the archaeological park in Syracuse will be of much interest to them or the castle on Ortygia, unless they can get up to shenanigans unsafe to them and the historical grounds.” He had clicked his tongue and raised his eyebrows. “No, no no, I can’t put that stress on Mamma.” He had fidgeted with the flowers but glanced up at Herakles. “After the Turks tried to set foot here, in the 1570s, the Spaniards re-fortified the castle on Ortygia, you know. The opposite of what you’re doing.”

Michele had grinned at him for a second before he gave a ringing, impish laugh. Herakles had chuckled at first, but upon hearing Michele’s rascally joy, it grew into laughter as well.

“If somebody threatens me with a good time …” Herakles had answered.

He was here. Not in Athens, not in Ankara.

As they stood among the fields, Michele said: “I love to be outside around here at night. Just to stare at Monreale, how it’s lit up and tucked away against the mountains.” The walls around Michele’s garden were too high to see a lot of the surrounding area.

“I know that King Gugghiermu built the monastery and the cathedral, and all the other things, just to get the bishop out of town, but do you think he ever regretted it?” The moon was bright enough and the light pollution bad enough that they hadn’t needed any lamps for their night walk.

Michele didn’t take his eyes off the warm, orange spot of light couched into the hills. “I mean, Palermo’s beautiful, but … so is Monreale. It must sting to have such beauty tower over you.”

They trekked the last hundred metres back to Michele’s house in silence. 

“Do you think that’s why your ancestors built the fence around the garden so high?” Herakles asked and Michele looked at him, his eyebrows quirked in bewilderment at ‘ancestors’. “Because they couldn’t bear the beauty either, soaring to heights they could never reach.”

“That sounds like Luigi, yes,” Michele replied and opened the front door. He hit the light switch for the atrium. He hit it again.

Still no lights.

An exasperated sigh in the darkness. “Alright - You don’t happen to have a lighter on you?” he asked Herakles, who patted down his pockets.

“I don’t.”

“Moonlight it is then.” Slowly, yet with purpose, Michele walked into the atrium. Herakles ambled behind him, while he opened cabinets and rummaged through them. He mumbled something in Sicilian to himself and pulled a long and heavy object out of the cabinet.

A metallic click. A circle of light appeared half on the wall, half on the cabinet.

“Here, take that one,” Michele said and handed the flashlight to Herakles. “And shine into the cabinet, please.”

Herakles did so.

Michele took a closer look inside and rummaged around it some more. He straightened himself and opened a drawer. Herakles shone inside of it.

Michele mumbled a few more things in Sicilian, then something that sounded like “There you are” and turned a smaller flashlight in the palm of his hand. He turned it on.

“Alright now – Minchia -“

“Sorry.” Herakles lowered the flashlight after Michele had turned and stared straight into it.

Michele’s eyes were squeezed shut and he blinked a few times before he caught himself with a shake of his head.

“Now we’ve got to find the fuse box and hope that that’ll solve our problem.”

“Perhaps it’s a blackout,” Herakles suggested while Michele looked around.

He turned to him with a cocked eyebrow.  “Curious blackout though that would only affect my house, since we still saw the neighbours with their lights on, wouldn’t it be?”

“Point taken. Where’s the fuse box? In the cellar?”

“No, that one’s only for vegetables and wine,” Michele replied. “And … well … clandestine operations.”

“I think we made out there once,” Herakles said.

“I can hardly remember that, unless you mean stolen kisses while we were fetching something for Mamma cooking dinner. “Michele made his way around the atrium’s freestanding staircase.

“I think I meant that.” Herakles followed him. “A basement full of alcohol also hardly sounds like a place to hide from Athanasios.”

"No, not quite … It’s a good place to hide from me, though,” Michele said and looked briefly over his shoulder with a bright smile. “You wouldn’t believe how many spaces there are in this house to hide from me!”

Herakles snorted. “It’s a bit of a labyrinth, isn’t it?” Michele chuckled. He followed him around the corner and down the hallway. At its end, it split into two crammed corridors.  Michele shone a light into both sides. “Should I get you a thread, my hero?” Herakles asked and slipped his arm around Michele’s waist to tuck him against his body.

Michele jumped at the contact, but then looked up at him with a cocked eyebrow and a pouting smirk.

“Get me the fuse box, Casanova.” He quickly ran his hand over Herakles’ and gently pushed his arm away the next moment. “Before that, we should check the backdoor. I’ve checked everything before we left, but better safe than sorry.”

“Wouldn’t want to run into any minotaurs in here.”

“Yes, or any hit men or dumb teenagers, who thought this would be a funny prank,” Michele said and walked back towards the atrium. “Well, teenagers aside from my own rascals.” He stopped in his tracks and looked over his shoulder at Herakles. “Actually, you can wait for me here while I’ll check the backdoor.”

Herakles nodded and Michele returned into the atrium. He disappeared behind the stairs and Herakles heard a door open and close. He listened into the dark.

There was the constant background noise of the city far away. Silence, otherwise. Michele’s steps were muffled. Something rattled, but he couldn’t discern what would make such sounds.

He looked behind him. There was no movement in the dark; where the hallway split, the last specks of light that made it through the atrium’s glass ceiling was swallowed. There was only pitch blackness outside the circle of his flashlight.

A door opened and he turned around. Michele closed it behind himself and walked back over to him. “The backdoor is completely undisturbed, as are all the windows, so I think we’re safe from roaming monsters.”

“Good to know.”

“Yes, I would even call it vital information. Now, onto the fuse box…” Herakles let Michele pass him, before he followed him into the left corridor.

There were no paintings or other decorative objects on the walls. There was barely space to walk anyways.

Michele lit up the end of the corridor and turned towards a door. He reached for the handle but paused before he pressed it.

He looked at Herakles over his shoulder, who was met with a relaxed smirk. “But perhaps there is a scuro in here. Or a grecu livanti. Scuri like abandoned houses.“ He opened the door, the handle creaked and the hinges wailed. 

“What’s a scuro?”

“It’s a – “

“And the other thing. I thought I was the only Greek traipsing around here.“ Herakles stepped into the room after Michele.

Michele laughed to himself. “It’s named after the east winds, which we call the grecu or livanti. The creature that’s called grecu livanti travels with the winds and that is the reason why it can show up so quickly at the doorsteps of naughty kids.” Michele hunched his shoulders, curled his hand into a claw and wiggled his fingers. “And grab them!” The claw snapped into a fist. Herakes chuckled. “If it doesn’t gobble them up on the spot, it will stuff the kids down its pants to take them home and eat them later.”

Michele grinned at Herakles. “... charming.”

The grin dimmed back to a smirk. “Wonderful, the idea that one might run into such a fella in the dark, isn’t it?” Michele briefly took a look around the room, before he walked towards a box, mounted against the wall in a corner.

It was some sort of storeroom. A few wooden crates and half-empty shelves. Either a generator or an old AC unit. Herakles wasn’t sure.

“The boys would have their fun with this,” Michele said and he looked at him.

“ … fixing the fuse box?”

“They would have fun traipsing around in the dark.” Michele turned his head and the light in his hand as he examined the box’ handle and where the door met the frame.

Herakles stepped closer and lowered his light. “Unafraid of grecu livanti?”

“Oh, far from it!” Michele pulled at the fuse box’ handle, but it did nothing except for making the aged metal moan. “Oh, actually, there is a … My god, it’s so embarrassing.”

Michele pulled again, with the same result as before.

“Do you want me to open it for you?” Herakles asked softly.

“No, no …” Michele switched the lamp from one hand to the other and pulled. The door didn’t even budge this time. “But you can hold the lamp, if you would be so kind?”

“Of course.” Herakles took Michele’s lamp. He turned his own off and put it on top of the nearest crate. He stood aside from Michele now.

Michele now pulled with both hands. “You see.” There was a strain from the physical effort, but he tried to talk as if there was no effort at all. “This must have happened a while ago. Marco and Lorenzo weren’t on their-” He took one hand of the handle to gesture and the other one now pulled with short, hard jerks. “-best behaviour. And in a fit of …” Michele stopped and breathed for a few moments. “I don’t know what I was thinking. I honestly don’t know. But I had gotten the idea that maybe a bogeyman would strike some fear into their hearts.” The pulls became weaker and weaker. Michele sighed. “Now mind you, the boys fear very little.” He let go of the handle and turned to Herakles. Herakles wondered if him leaning against the door with his upper arm was intentional. “Much less than is good for them, and ghosts are most certainly not on the list. I, however, thought I’d give it a shot. Alessia, do you remember her? You ever met her? Girl, around sixteen. Loud, cheeky, got short brown hair, nearly as tall as I am.”

“I might remember someone like that.”

“Anyways.” Michele learned harder against the box.

“I don’t think it’s going to help with the power if the door caves in and crashes the fuses.”

“Well, it’s not doing me any favours with the power this way either, being closed.” Michele had said it with a smile, but released his weight.

“If anything, you might have gotten the door stuck even more.”

“Bullshit.” Michele pulled with both hands again and Herakles pouted. “Anyways, where was I? I asked Alessia if she wanted to do me a favour and she did.” He stopped and sighed. Herakles could see him stare ahead at the fuse box, but his look was lost in space. “So … Honestly, please don’t ask what’s gotten into me, but I asked Alessia to come to the house and play a grecu livanti one night. Which made the boys believe in ghosts for a few hours, who knows, really, but they also believed themselves to be excellent ghost hunters and did not resign to their fate. All I did was frighten them into more mischievous action. So much for boogeyman to keep the kids in in line.” Michele sighed and rubbed one hand over the back of the other. Herakles was glad that the banging and clanging had stopped, for it had started to give him a headache. Michele picked at his skin. “That’s the story behind the crack in the wall upstairs, by the way. And I think that Alessia, who’s now … who’s now … She and the boys will probably spend more time together in the future, and I don’t think she’s ever going to let them hear the end of it. At least someone had fun. I don’t know what I was thinking, it all seemed like a terrible and silly mistake in the same night and I apologised profusely to the two for playing such a terrible prank on them. Frighten the children with man-eating monsters! What a cruel thing to do, especially in this day and age, don’t you think?”

Michele hadn’t looked up at Herakles once. Only at his hand, at which he had picked all throughout his monologue.

Herakles stepped closer to Michele and gently laid it over the hand that picked at the skin.

“It sure makes for a remarkable story despite it all, don’t you think?” He asked. “I am sure that, give it a few years, Marco and Lorenzo will think of it as a silly childhood adventure and not a breach of trust.” Michele glanced at him. “You’re so hard on yourself, Michele. Trying to be a parent in your teens, I think it’s perhaps not that unusual to go a bit mad with the task.”

“Parent … well …” Michele buzzed.

“Older brother.” Herakles put his head on Michele’s shoulder. “Will you let me try to open the box?”

“Give me one last shot,” Michele said. Herakles rubbed his face against Michele’s cheek and neck, before he straightened up and took a step back.

Michele grabbed the handle. He took a deep breath, shifted his stance and yanked one last time.

The box flew open, with such a force that Michele stumbled back. Herakles stepped behind him and let Michele bump into him.

It was quiet for a moment. Herakles had put an arm around Michele, who slouched in his hold.

“… careful there.”

Michele snapped out of his daze.

“Hah! Eureka! Told you!” He got onto his feet and pushed up his sleeves. “Now, shine inside, be so kind.” He pulled the box’ door wide open.

“Of course.” Herakles stood right behind Michele to light the box’ interior.

The fuses were extremely old, of plastic that had gone yellow with age and dust. Some of them were labelled - a few with neatly etched plates drilled into the box, but most with paper labels. Herakles couldn’t read a single one.

“Everything seems to be fine here …” Michele said. He gingerly touched a few of them, turned one or two with an audible click, but nothing happened. Herakles looked at the room’s door over his shoulder, but stared straight into the pitch black hole.

“Curious,” he said.

“Indeed.” Michele stared ahead for a while. He turned his head to Herakles. “There’s another one upstairs.”

“Oh?”

“Yes.” He carefully and slowly closed the door, until it hit the frame and wouldn’t budge any further. He sighed and increased the pressure, but it would only move millimetre by millimetre and with the ugly scratch of metal on metal. “Ciaccatu,” he cursed under his breath. “Couldn’t even build a fucking box that fit. Surely, better to have it all out in the open, better than whatever shoddy electric works Luigi added to the house, but Giovanni couldn’t even bother with a proper box!” He banged his hand against the fuse box’ door. The noise rang in Herakles’ ears still. Michele sighed into the silence. “Let’s leave it at that.”

“I’m sure you want your flashlight back.” 

“I do.” Herakles handed Michele the flashlight and then took a step to the side, until he realized the problem. “Can you shine over here? I put my flashlight-” Michele had already turned.

“Of course.”

Herakles picked up his own, wiped off the dust and turned it on.

“Alright,” Michele said. “Let’s go.” He walked out of the room with Herakles behind him. He closed the door on the way out.

It was a claustrophobic feeling to walk down the small corridor. When they turned into the bigger hallway, Herakles took a moment to shine a light onto the objects on the wall.

An old clock that no longer ticked. A painting in a heavy, detailed frame that showed a shipwreck. A Sicilian marionette of a knight.

The moon had shifted. Herakles saw the polished metal of the rail and post gleamed in the pale moonlight, but everything else was engulfed by darkness.

“You’d think that this stupid glass ceiling would serve at least some kind of purpose,” Michele said as they walked towards the front of the stairs. “Or all these giant windows. But no! If the moon isn’t visible or at the wrong angle, it’s useless, all useless! It only all makes this house a living nightmare in summer and winter alike! Giovanni had the right idea when he bricked up one of these hideous things instead of fixing it - Nothing about this is practical!” He grabbed the handrail and began to climb the stairs.

The balcony at the top was marginally lit by the moonlight overhead. Beyond the landing was another yawning mouth of blackness.

“But I am sure he didn’t even install a lamp in that room,” Michele ranted about his grandfather. Herakles began to climb the stairs behind him. He didn’t care! He cared as little as his father had, just in a different way! Nobody cared about this house and how could you! How could anyone live in here, in this … in this monument to hubris!” Michele stopped in the middle of the stairs and looked at the glass ceiling. Herakles stopped as well. “It was supposed to be it all! Spanish Baroque, an actual Roman villa – well, if only this damned hole had a single use like it had in a Roman villa! But they didn’t care for history! Cared nothing for it like the fucking fascists who locked them up – Neo-classical! Neo-classical it was supposed to be too! Neo-classical my ass, have you seen the things they built in Palermo? You’ve seen the tribunale! How fuckugly! I’d rather they throw me straight into jail than try me in this affront to everything! ” Michele made it to the landing of the balcony and looked from left to right. His heavy breath echoed off the high walls and stone floors.

Herakles came to a stop beside him. “We technically don’t have to fix the light, if you don’t want to.” Michele looked at him for a moment, mouth still open to breathe through it. “We’re not gonna freeze nor die of heatstroke without the AC and I don’t know about you, but I don’t need light for the things I do at night.” He smiled. “Though some types of sleeping are more fun with it, I’ll say.” The smile thinned. Michele scanned the atrium. “But you don’t have to see even as much as the shades around the house, if you don’t want to, Michele. They’re not real.”

Michele looked at him, with furrowed brows but eyes open and alert. “If those shades aren’t real, I’m terrified of what real things they’re supposed to represent.” He turned to the left. “And I am not meeting them in the dark.”

“So we’re not going to bed?” Herakles asked and intonated it like a neutral question.

“No, we’re not. There could be something wrong with the wiring or the fuses and I want to make sure …” His voice had begun to waver. When he spoke again, the desperation in his tone wanted to rise above a whisper, but his vocal cords couldn’t manage it. “I really hope nothing happened in … that room.”

That room was to the right of the staircase. Michele walked ahead into the hallway to the left and Herakles followed him in silence. There were two large photo prints of places in Sicily, but a painting was hung prominently where the hallway split into two. It was romantic and showed the Acropolis of Athens against the backdrop of a vast landscape, devoid of any people.

Herakles noticed how the circle of light from Michele’s flashlight shook slightly.

He dared to ask the question. “Have you opened it since?”

"No." Michele turned the right corner.

Herakles wondered what the state the office of Michele’s father was in when Michele had decided to lock the door and hide the key. He wondered if he had hidden it at all or gone as far as destroying it or throwing it out to sea. He hadn’t asked any follow up questions two or three years ago. Michele had told him about it on a late summer night, when the world had been at its most quiet. Herakles had not really cared to know more than what he had told him. Michele wanted to close the door on the past. Herakles would be the last person to deny him that.

Michele cursed and Herakles’ attention snapped back to him. He had stopped in front of a door on the right side and now muttered angrily under his breath.

“Hm?” Herakles asked: “What’s the matter?”

“I have to get the key, wait here for me for a second.” Michele walked past him and disappeared around the corner.

Herakles listened to Michele’s steps down the stairs. He heard a cabinet drawer open, then close, followed by steps that receded further.

He looked around. At the far end of the corridor opposite to the one he was in, he could see a tall window. Barely any light fell inside, but when he lowered his lamp, he could see Palermo’s lights twinkle in the distance.

Herakles thusly had to assume that the window faced the front, although perhaps he was mistaking one of the towns further inland with Palermo. Despite the many nights he had spent at the house, without the warm glow of the dim lamps mounted against the wall, everything looked the same.

It took him until Michele’s return, key in hand, that he vaguely recognized his position in the house. Michele opened the door, which revealed a guest room.

Or rather, a room that could function as such. The official guestroom had become Maria’s room, now that she had moved back in with her son. Marco and Lorenzo had taken over another guest room. He knew that Michele had offered them their own rooms more than once, but they had rather shared. They were around 14 now and Herakles wondered if puberty would make the offer more appealing. He knew that as much as Timothea and Omar loved each other, a shared room would lead to a disaster.

This room had a bed with a rug, oriental but more likely to be from a North-African region, a nightstand and two closets.

Herakles had only ever slept in the one now occupied by Maria, which was a far nicer guest room than this one.

He lingered on this thought for a while as its implications occurred to him. He knew that Michele went on dates and even had met a girlfriend once, but tried to think back to the last time Michele had made him sleep in the guest room or refused to sleep in Herakles’ bed on a visit to Athens. Although it would lead to perhaps a platonic cuddle at most, Herakles’ respected Michele’s commitment to faithfulness during his brief romances. He understood that if the twins found them in the same bed, it would raise questions – Marco and Lorenzo were older than the time Michele had told them Herakles was sleeping in his room because of a sleepover. It had been a fun night in the end as they had watched movies with the two and talked until 2 am, when Michele and Herakles could barely keep their eyes open. It reminded him of the time when, years ago, Sadık had come to meet him in secret at the Simonides’ house, so that Athanasios wouldn’t catch wind of it. The two of them had barely stripped down to their underpants when there had been a knock on the door of the guest room. Sex had to be postponed for the next hour as they had entertained Omar and Timothea. Omar had shown them the Pokémon game on his Gameboy as he sat in Sadık’s lap, while Timothea and her perfectionism only managed to braid one and a half braids into Herakles’ hair, before Natasa and Ibrahim told the twins to “leave the boys alone” and had put them to bed. Herakles had left the finished braid alone, because Sadık had said he had looked cute with it.

“Have you ever considered open relationships, Michele?”

A loud creak went through the room. “Huh?” Michele asked into the dark. “Oh, so you finally got your head out of the clouds. Would you be so kind and help me with the door again?”

Herakles shone his light at him and realized that Michele struggled with the fuse box again. This one looked more modern than the one downstairs.

“Sure.” Herakles ambled over. “You want me to open it?”

“No, I think I’ve got this one.” Michele had put his lamp onto the nightstand and Herakles continued to use his own this them. He stood behind Michele, in case he had to catch him, and shone onto the box over his shoulder.

Herakles said: “I’m just saying, I’m sure you could find someone who’s open to an open relationship.” Herakles smiled. “It’s a mighty lot of fun, if you ask me.”

Michele snorted before he laughed. A welcome sound to Herakles’ ears in between his laboured grunts and the bangs of the door when he pulled on it. “I’m sure it suits you just fine, my friend.” The pulls continued. “But those things, they need time and commitment … why not just play pretend with love, if it’s fleeting anyways?” He stopped his efforts with the box and shook his arms. He swallowed. “Now, I’m glad that you got lucky in love, but I … I am starting to believe that ‘true love’ isn’t in the cards for me … But I am happy to take the scraps of love I find along the way.”

Herakles put his head on Michele’s left shoulder. He kissed his cheek. “You can always come back to me, if you need it.”

Michele trembled. He had trembled this entire time. “I know, Erculi,” he said. “I know.”

Herakles switched his lamp to the other hand and yanked the fuse box open. 

“… thank you,” Michele said.

“Thought you could use the help.” Herakles touched his cheek to Michele’s, before he straightened up.

Michele looked through the fuse box. Herakles still couldn’t read any of the paper labels, but at least these fuses looked 30 years old and not from the 30s. Michele’s fingers shook as he flipped the switches.

“Michele, I can take a look for you, too …”

“Hm? No, no … you don’t even know what is where … it’s fine …” There was an erratic quality to his eyes. He turned a knob, but nothing changed. “I don’t … I don’t know …” His hand rested on the knob. It was limp. Herakles started to notice his own breath as well. “Is there another one I don’t remember …?  Everything was fine before we left, there’s … there’s no nothing left but that room ...”

A creak went through the house and Michele whirled around, eyes wide open.

Silence.

“Old houses sound like that,” Herakles said. “Probably nothing – “

“I think I saw someone in the corridor,” Michele said. With his look fixed onto the door, he reached for his lamp behind him. He missed it a few times before he turned around and picked it up. Herakles shone his light into the open door.

“Are you sure?” he asked him.

“I saw, I saw something move …” Michele walked towards the door and Herakles followed him with a worried frown on his forehead.

“I think you might be – “

“There!” They stood in the corridor. “There again, there …”

A panel of lights hushed across the wall.

In time with the sound of a car as it made its way through the bumpy streets around the fields. 

Herakles looked to the tall window. “I think what you saw was just the headlights of the car.”

Michele stared into the dark.

The lights in the atrium flickered on and he jumped. His lamp dropped to the floor with a loud clunk.

“The electricity seems to be back,” Herakles said, but kept his flashlight on and picked up Michele’s.

“Yes …, yes, apparently it’s back,” Michele said as he looked around. He took a deep breath.

“Your lamp?”

“Oh?” He took it from Herakles. “Yes, thank you.” He switched it off, so Herakles did the same. Michele had pressed his eyes shut when he said: “I think there’s ghosts around every corner.”

“They’re only shades, though. They may pass through you, but they can’t cause you any harm.”

Michele clicked his tongue and shook his head. He looked at Herakles. “Some may only pass through you, but pray to God that none of them stick. And some of these ghosts are bodily and if they come back, they bring nothing but rot and illness with them. Turnati . Bodies who’ve crossed over but won’t stay dead.”

Herakles wondered if Michele spoke in a literal or metaphorical sense. He realized that the ghosts were real regardless. “ … I’ll send you a charm as soon as I am back in Greece. I’m sure it’ll keep some of these ghosts at bay.”

Michele’s look was turned towards to atrium. A stare tired enough for a millennia of pain. A haunted man.

“I need to sit down,” he said.  “I need a glass of wine.” He turned to Herakles. “Care to sit on the porch with me? I can’t bear another wall.”

Can’t bear the garden wall. Can’t bear Monreale.

Can bear the quiet night. Can bear to stare out at Monte Pellegrino and hope that someone would take the plague from him. Can bear to look out at the sea – Swallowing everything and giving nothing back. Can bear to look at the city, walls so beautiful and yet so bloody.

“We’ll open one of the bottles from crete that I brought, if you like.” Herakles was reminded of his remark about his own father earlier and was glad they hadn’t put the bottles down into the wine cellar yet. A ghost in a bottle was the last thing he needed right now. 

“Yeah. Yeah, that sounds good…” Michele stared ahead, where the hallway to the right of the staircase split into two. The light of the atrium couldn’t reach it. He walked towards the staircase and Herakles followed him.

~*~

Gugghiermu is the Sicilian version of William. Michele is referring to King William II of Sicily.

"Minchia" - "Shit". Literally translates to "Penis".

"Ciaccatu" - Something broken.

Tribunale is the Italian word for court. The tribunale in Palermo is an example of "Stripped Classicism", a neo-Classical style widely employed by fascist regimes of Italy & Germany. "The fascists who locked them up" is a reference to Cesare Mori. To insert historical nuance that the text lacks - Cesare Mori often butted heads with the fascist regime and thus had lost his job briefly after Mussolini had come to power. He was re-established as prefect of Sicily by the fascist regime later in the 20s. His fight against the Mafia was arguably extremely effective, but also ensured by very harsh measures, so he continues to be a controversial figure. The association expressed in the text is best explained by the fact that the fascists bragged about how it was them who destroyed the mafia. It's a bold-faced lie and soon after WWII, the mafia proliferated again and is active to this day.

Monte Pellegrino is a mountain on the north side of the bay of Palermo. The story goes that in 1625, Santa Rosalia's body was found incorrupted in a cave on the mountain and when her body was paraded through the streets, it ended the current plague epidemic that had befallen Palermo. She's the patron saint of the city ever since and often depicted with a skull.

[elareine]

JayTim Fic Masterlist

(Last Updated: February 7, 2021)

Works in Progress

Secret Witness (34k, ao3) CSI except with ghosts.

A Hope Like You (17k, ao3) A/b/o with single dad Jason and identity porn.

Silver and shadow and vision of things not seen (8k, ao3) WW2 and post-WW2 urban fantasy noir.

Completed

rosy cheeks (i want to kiss) (8k, ao3) A decade’s worth of pining.

Myosotis (9k, ao3) Ancient Greek break-ups and battlefield reunions.

Be brave that we may shine (2k, ao3) Series: And Earth is but a star, that once had shone Space stowaway Tim.

In the Shadows of Gotham (1k, ao3 I tumblr) Buzzfeed Unsolved AU.

Revenant (1k, ao3 I tumblr) Sad ghost headcanon.

Turn yourself toward home (4k, ao3) Retired pirate seeks retired navy officer.

The space between us (8k, ao3) Mr. & Mrs. Smith in space.

Hold me (like you held on to life) (6k, ao3) Vampire sex to spite the parents.

If I know you (4k, ao3) Annoyed witch cares for sleeping prince.

Lifelong learning (5k, ao3) College, but it’s not an AU.

safe with me (14k, ao3) Figuring out intimacy, with a dash of d/s.

Ornamental (2k, ao3) Christmas party butt plug fun.

Far away (1k, ao3 I tumblr) + So close (1k, ao3 I tumblr) Tim’s in space and then he’s not.

Like no other pain (2k, ao3) Soulmates, but Tim makes it angsty.

If I had a type (then baby it would be you) (1k, ao3 I tumblr) One-night stand with surprise bondmark.  

The Sacredness of Tears (13k, ao3) Tim gets the ability to travel through time, but somehow that’s not the main story.

The Reluctant Brides (13k, ao3) Genderbent regency. Bonus Tumblr Drabble One and Two

Adamare (9k, ao3 I tumblr: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7) Harry Potter AU.

What demons they carry (5k, ao3 I tumblr: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14) Outsider POV of demon!Tim.

Shelter (19k, ao3) Royalty arranged marriage.

glaukopis, promachos, atrytone (4k, ao3 I tumblr:  1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7) A god and his reincarnated lover.

Not the hurricane (2k, ao3 I tumblr) Soft handjobs.

Night falling softly and without mercy (4k, ao3 I tumblr) When you want to marry your bodyguard but are pretty sure he means to kill you.

Reasons to be jealous (4k, ao3 I tumblr) Unfounded jealousy crack. Side DickDami.

Just a fool for you (6k, ao3 I tumblr) The Regency Daemon Thing. (Part two of ‘foolish, perhabs’)

A fool’s game (1k, ao3 I tumblr) Outsider POV of The Regency Daemon Thing. (Part one of ‘foolish, perhabs’)

A fool to believe (2k, ao3 I tumblr) Epistolary companion to The Regency Daemon Thing. (Part three of ‘foolish, perhabs’)

Blood will tell (9k, ao3) October Daye AU.

So easy to begin (4k, ao3) Dealin’ with fear toxin and trauma, a/b/o-style.

Somebody ring the alarm (2k, ao3) Strangers flirting while undercover.

To love and to honour (6k, ao3) Five anniversaries and a wedding.

A question of trust (3k, ao3) Jason hides an injury.

The Wedding Job (3k, ao3) Leverage-style heist.

One day the slipper fits (2k, ao3) The perils of not-dating.

Tumblr Ficlets

I’m also gradually posting these to ao3.

Everyone wants the Costco cookies

Tim starts talking to an alien 

A first kiss in the moonlight

The frog and the stablehand

College Rivals and Soulmates + Part Two

A regency fic in which the marriage arranges itself

Tim is sick at the office

Two actresses at a premiere, holding hands + Prequel: Two actresses pining

Lending an ear (also with RoyDick) + Bruce and Olli get involved

Soulmarks and lies

“You don’t wanna get involved with me”

Touch-starved Talon Tim

Omega/omega forbidden love

2 a.m. at the flower shop

A visit from the future

I thought fairies are bigger

Are you crying? (Break-up)

Sleepless night better spent in other ways

Too many rumors

Leaving + Following

Tough city, full of tough guys

Terrible at breaking up

Carrying your photograph

Bruce finds out

Distraction at breakfast

Trying to figure you out

Jason wearing glasses

‘Can’t let you go’ kiss + the next morning

Tea with Alfred

A first date

An old married couple, temporarily far apart

“Most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen”

Post-apocalypse decisions (“It’s always been you”)

Awkward flirting

A soulmark that says “Please don’t leave me”

Stop pulling heroic shit without me

Married for the aliens

Unexpected cuddles

Cuddles on a rainy day

Cyborg AU

Hades and Persephone AU

Regency misunderstandings

Crying

Accents and ‘fighting’

Surprise Baby Acquisition

“It’s you I love, not her.”

Letting them warm their cold hands under your shirt

Helping brush their hair after a shower

“I can’t sleep, can I stay here?”

“Who hurt you?” (Jason edition)

“Is this okay?”

“Who hurt you?” (Tim edition)

Strangers at a gala

A black ribbon (Vampire AU)

De-aged cuddles

[imtrashraccoon]

I know it’s a little late for spooky month stuff but I don’t care so maybe the dragon au of the dark fortress…..like when they first got cursed from the sorcerer? I don’t know…it’s like super early right now.

Never too late, friend! :3

Bit of a warning, but this one is a bit dark. There are no happy endings here although I wouldn't say it's too graphic.

Part 1 & Part 2

It was a miserable night when they came.

For the first time in months, Lord Donovan had pulled his henchmen and armies back into his own territory to rest and recover their mana reserves. No one actually knew that though, as very few people ever escaped the carnage he was known for. The worst storm in decades had descended on the once flourishing Kingdom of Shiftingtails, now the heart of corruption and where the Dark Fortress had emerged from the very earth.

So imagine with me, the surprise that the dark lord must've felt when he received word that a mysterious stranger had appeared at the gate. He allowed them to enter, if to find out what kind of fool would come to him in this weather. Maybe they could provide some form of meager entertainment?

The person brought before him wasn't anything like he'd been expecting. They were dressed in non-descript clothing, walked with a limp, and had to rely on a staff in order to keep their balance. Their ethnicity wasn't easily discerned and their eyes were white with blindness, yet they showed no difficulty navigating through the fortress. Lord Donovan couldn't even determine if they possessed any significant well of mana or not. Still, he allowed the stranger into his court to hear what they had to say.

His henchmen were present of course. Why should they miss out on the fun? While the dark lord was perfectly capable of defending himself, it was good to have a little extra muscle for appearances sake. And if the stranger did try anything, he wouldn't need to get his hands dirty when his men would all too gladly jump at the chance to draw blood.

The stranger's voice was rough with age and Lord Donovan found himself wondering if they'd gone senile long ago. Still, they weren't afraid to condemn the evil he'd done, the hundreds he'd personally killed, and the countless others he'd scarred for life in more ways than one. He'd heard it all before of course, but what the stranger said next, chilled him to the bone.

"If only Sir Finn could have seen what you've become..."

With a snarl, Lord Donovan nearly leaped to his feet but managed to restrain himself from tearing the stranger apart. His mind was clouded with rage. How dare they carelessly mention that name?!

"WHO ARE YOU?!" the dark lord bellowed, not bothering with his usual faux politeness anymore.

"I am the past and your ilk has no future," the stranger answered.

Lord Donovan became aware of two things in that moment. His henchmen were growing restless; especially Dirk, who had started fiddling with his dagger, but Reven and Maul were also poised to attack if he gave the word. Unfortunately, they would stand no chance if he did because he now knew who the mysterious stranger was.

As soon as the realization occurred to him, the stranger's form seemed to shift beyond his eyes. Their clothing changed to enchanted robes adorned in ancient arcane patterns and their very visage morphed into one he'd never expected to see again. Their eyes remained clouded and their simple staff transformed into an ornately carved stave. Apparently, the Great Seer had survived all these years later and they had chosen to confront him now of all times.

"You are the one with no future. Return to the earth like the kingdom you once served," Lord Donovan growled through gritted teeth.

The Seer let out a heavy sigh and leaned against their stave as they surveyed the dark lord once more. "You have no authority, not anymore. Nature condemns your crimes and demands punishment." They stretched out their hand, pointing right at him before continuing. "May you no longer hide amongst the innocent for they will see you and your thugs as the beasts you are..."

Thinking quickly, Lord Donovan channeled what mana he had into a counterspell, but Reven seemed to have a similar realization and he summoned a skull blaster in an effort to disrupt the Great Seer's curse. He meant well, but the dark lord knew if that blaster fired, none of them would survive thanks to the powerful reflect enchants on the Seer's robes.

He immediately lashed out at his henchmen with his tendrils, not to harm but to get them away from the epicenter. If he was lucky, they would be spared and he would take the brunt of the curse in their stead. Unfortunately, his mind was faster than his his body and before he could follow through, the curse was cast.

The pain was instantaneous and only through sheer force of will, Donovan remained standing, although his henchmen could not. It brought him back to that horrible day all those years ago when the corruption first took hold of his body, only it was worse than even that. He felt his very bones creaking, as if something was trying to tear him apart from the inside and break free. He couldn't stay upright and within seconds, collapsed to the tiled floor.

At some point he became aware of a persistent tapping, like an angry woodpecker drilling through his skull. When he opened his one good eye socket, he realized it was merely the footsteps of the Great Seer as they crossed the floor towards him. Their brows were pinched together in a look that he had swore never to see again: pity. They watched him for a moment before kneeling down in front of him.

"I wish there had been another way," they murmured. "But just as dead branches must be removed from a tree, so must evil be purged before life can return."

Donovan spat at the Seer's feet.

"You have a chance to break the curse. In three years, if you do not receive a token of true love, all of you will remain as beasts."

The Great Seer left the way they had come but this time there was no one to accompany them through the dark halls. The storm raged on throughout the night and into the next day, but in the Dark Fortress, a different turmoil was brewing. One of rage and confusion. One that would cause even greater devastation to the surrounding kingdoms and claim the lives of all who tried to resist it.

[lisbetadair]

Cool Beans

The thing with MacTavish, being both a fool and an idiot, who has led a very sheltered and institutionalised life in an extremely conservative organisation, is that faced with questions about sexuality (and to some degree, gender) is that he doesn't have the experience, or the vocabulary to describe what he's experiencing, and as a result, goes through a stepwise progression of Really Odd Ideas about all of those things before even starting to get comfortable with his own feelings.

So today, in the draft of the latest chapter of Revenant Coffee Company, he has entered the stage of Maybe If I Was More Of A Feminist I Would Not Be Gay?

He's a lot confused, but he is also getting into the spirit and it will, in the end, do him a lot of good.

I only mention this because I'm not sure if people sit down to read a coffee shop AU of Modern Warfare 2 and find stuff about sexuality or investment banking, and I probably should put up some sort of warning.