#hazsuits

[moonchildstyles]

girl i just have to say ive been a subscriber on ur patreon for a few years now and your writing genuinely just keeps getting better and better. you seriously have a gift and i hope you never stop using it!!!! 🫶🏻

omg wait thank you so much:( that really does mean the entire world to me thank you for supporting and sticking around for so long esp right now like it really means sosososos much thank you thank you thank you!!!!!! I really hope I can keep putting out stuff you enjoy and just thank you:(

[freedomfireflies]

beyond obsessed with ur new one shot having H as an ACTUAL dom not just spank and bank😭😭😭 u wrote him so well!!!!! would def love to see more

YOU ARE AN ANGEL HELLO??? I adore you so much thank you endlessly for reading and taking the time to send me this hehe I HOPE YOURE WELL BB 💞

[delimeful]

you can’t go back (8)

Intermission Part 1: Janus

warnings: misunderstandings, lying, violence/injury/blood, dehumanization, on-screen minor character murder, dissociation, implications of self destructive behavior, lmk if i missed any

-

Janus knew something was wrong well before he stepped on board the transfer ship.

They hadn’t docked properly, remaining detached from the main station and letting their ship hang in the low-orbit field for refueling. According to the frustratingly vague e-report, the crew had picked up some ‘hazardous elements’ and was partaking in a ‘low-level precautionary quarantine’ for the safety of the rest of the port.

Seeing as Leond and her ilk were one of the stupider and more arrogant crews around, he seriously doubted that. If she’d picked up merchandise that was valuable enough to risk contamination for, she would be on the station bragging about it the moment they arrived. If asked, she then would have brushed aside questions about exposure by claiming that a few lower-level lackeys were the only ones to make contact with it directly, and so she’d obviously put them in a decontam cell.

Janus knew a thing or two about how con artists worked, occasionally taking up the role himself. Suffice to say, he wasn’t buying it until he saw the underside of the coin for himself.

See, the claim to be in quarantine wouldn’t be entirely unbelievable, not with Virgil on board. His role on the mission had been auxiliary at best, and the real purpose behind his presence was to keep a few eyes on Leond’s activities, the dynamics of her crew, any information Janus could tuck away and use later.

People were wary of Janus and his reputation. They often forgot to be wary of his twitchy, reclusive Second, who clearly spent more time bodyguarding than thinking.

If something hazardous had infected the ship, though, Virgil would have broken his cover without a second thought. He answered to Janus first and foremost, and if he’d thought for a moment that docking properly could infect his First with anything dangerous or even lethal, he wouldn’t hesitate to lock the ship down, even if it meant jettisoning the chain of command right out the trash chute.

Except.

Except Janus hadn’t received a single comm call from Virgil for the past 7 sim-cycles, not even a simple long-correspondence message complaining about all the basic safety protocols he’d had to manage himself.

Except his own L-C message checking up on the mission progress had received a short, flippant response from someone else, who hadn’t even bothered mentioning the status of his Second.

Except when he pinged the transport a request to come aboard in a hazsuit, it had been granted without a word of warning.

Even the most stringent precautions were scorned by Virgil’s paranoia. He would have reached out to make digital contact long before ever letting Janus enter a contaminated ship, hazsuit or not.

(Unless he wasn’t conscious enough to stop him. Unless he wasn’t onboard at all–)

All that to say, by the time Janus was stepping from the small transfer pod into the ship proper, he was operating on the assumption that 1. something had gone deeply, horribly wrong for his Second, and 2. Janus needed to find him and whisk him away before his exoskeleton collapsed from stress.

Not that Leond needed to know that. Janus had kept their interactions pleasant and inoffensive, which is how he’d gotten the chance to send Virgil on a mission with them in the first place. As far as they were concerned, this was a standard visit from someone with a stake in their profits.

The alien in question was waiting in the hanger bay, a few of her ever-present followers behind her. Virgil had called the smaller one– an Evalka, by the look of it– her Second out of habit, which meant they were the most loyal.

“Deceit,” she greeted, wearing a suspiciously smooth expression for someone supposedly in quarantine. “Welcome aboard! I’m glad you were confident enough to venture over, there have been some very exciting developments.”

The formal tint to her speech shouldn’t have irritated him so quickly, but he couldn’t help but recall Virgil complaining that she casually spoke down to him. Some species really couldn’t grasp that an insult to one of them was an insult to both, regardless of who was ‘in charge’ at the moment.

“What a surprise,” he answered smoothly, forcing down the instinctive hiss until there wasn’t a chance of it slipping free. “I’ve heard so little from this vessel, I’d begun to worry that there had been some sort of… trouble.”

The wry amusement of the pause came through perfectly, just as practiced. He’d researched the vocal indicators of Leond’s homeplanet extensively while awaiting the ship’s return, and the work paid off now, as her demeanor thawed further into something conspiratorial.

“One could say that. Anything worth its cost comes with a little trouble,” she told him with a glint in her eyes, dropping some of the standard lilts of Common and returning to her species’ customary blunt cadence. “Forgive the silence. Our current trouble isn’t the type that can be spoken of over comms.”

There was an uneasy shift that seemed to ripple through her followers as she spoke, but Janus gave no indication of noticing.

“An interesting sort of trouble. That’s my favorite kind,” he replied, working hard to keep his own typical vocal flourishes muted as well. “I suppose that your wise discretion must be why Anxiety didn’t respond to me.”

There was a subtle yet distinct difference between Leond’s natural flat expression and the lax stillness of her hiding a reaction. It was hard to see, but then, Janus had excellent vision.

“All contact was limited,” she confirmed, and Janus could practically taste the lie slipping in between her words. “I’m sure your neurotic little friend is wandering around somewhere, ensuring all our hallway lightstrips are fully charged or something.”

If that were true, Virgil would have been the first face Janus saw the moment he stepped out of the pod. Virgil would be standing at his back now, an ominous, looming threat against the world on his behalf.

Behind his back, his clasped aux limbs twitched just slightly under his capelet. It was the only loss of composure he would allow himself.

“He is often preoccupied with safety,” he replied casually, as if his Second’s location was hardly relevant to him. “I’ll forgive it, seeing as you’ve seen it fit to introduce me to your valuable new trouble.”

The act was flawless, because he couldn’t afford to lose. He was all too aware of how close her followers were, how many of them there were in the bay alone.

When it came to battlefields, there were only two available here. Physical and mental. Janus already knew exactly which one he would find victory on.

“I knew you held a keenness for opportunity,” Leond praised, more accurately than she knew. “Follow me. I’ll show you our newest investment.”

Janus let himself be guided without hesitation, not showing a single twitch of tension as her crew fell into step behind him. She was surrounding him on purpose, putting eyes on him to see how he would react, what it would give away.

He gave her nothing.

Transport ships weren’t typically too large, so it didn’t take them long to traverse the levels and reach their final destination. Janus didn’t glance down halls or into the rooms they passed, because the chance that his Second would miraculously be there wasn’t worth the odds that his searching would be noticed. If he was going to look for Virgil, it would have to be without eyes on him.

In the end, they stopped outside the entryway to the cellblock, alarmingly enough. Holding cells were a precautionary measure typically only used for stowaways or captured raiders, with the rare exception of small-time bounty hunters that couldn’t afford a better ship.

Janus didn’t ask, but his mind was already buzzing through possibilities. What ‘valuable trouble’ would be put in a cell? Livestock transit required special containers, and was rarely requested around the Reach, anyhow. Some infamous outlaw with a huge bounty? Leond certainly wouldn’t have brought Janus in if that was the case.

“Aisleen, with me. The rest of you, scatter. Make yourselves useful elsewhere.” Despite her confident directions, her hand automatically ghosted over the holster strapped onto her side, which held a paralyzer that looked distinctly illegally-modded.

The motion was telling. Whatever her investment was, it had her frightened.

Considering Leond had more hubris than sense, it was more than enough for Janus to raise his guard as he followed her and her underling into the narrow hall.

There were three large cells, each with a door and a front wall made of clear, thick plastic, so one could see inside.

The first cell they passed was empty. The second cell was also empty, presumably because the viewing wall had been shattered right through the center, a rust-brown substance splattered on the ground and the jagged edges of the hole. The third cell was more reinforced, a wall of metal bars accompanying the plastic guard wall.

The third cell also held a Human.

Janus stopped dead, a deeply-ingrained survival instinct holding him still, as though the Human’s eyes weren’t already on him.

Even without the eyes, he would have recognized it. Being part of a shadier trading company meant that he’d learned the infamous Deathworlders weren’t a hoax early on. Everyone seemed to have a Human story they’d heard from a friend of a friend, and though the validity of them varied, the potential threat was enough that Janus had dug up as much information as he could.

Every word of it paled in comparison to witnessing one in person.

The Human was seated, half-slumped against one of the walls, oddly-jointed arms bound behind it in a way that looked downright painful. There was a streak of that same red substance smeared along the floor, from the center of the cell all the way to where the Human sat, as though they’d crawled there.

“You see the need for secrecy.”

Janus jolted at Leond’s voice, barely able to drag his gaze away from the Deathworlder in front of him. His single pair of auxiliary eyes opened on reflex to track the heat signature of the threat.

It was an appalling show of weakness, but Leond seemed satisfied by his reaction.

“We’ve had quite the trip, trying to keep it contained on a ship like this. The restraints, the drugs, even the cells aren’t built to withstand its level of strength. Poor Gally got gouged trying to force it back in, nearly lost his entire arm.” Her words were grim, but Janus could see the bright glimmer of greed in her gaze. “Can you imagine how well it will do in the rings?”

The Human had lifted itself forward just slightly, its head bobbing unsteadily as though it couldn’t quite find the energy to hold it up. Those half-lidded eyes were still locked unerringly on Janus.

“You’d make a fortune,” Janus’s mouth said on autopilot.

His mind was preoccupied with the knowledge that Virgil would never have let this happen willingly.

And he knew what happened to those who got between traffickers and their money.

“Yes, I will. And we’re offering you a part of it.” Leona’s voice was cajoling now, as though Janus was too much of an idiot to understand that she wanted someone to take the fall when she inevitably was tracked down by the authorities or worse, someone who had a reputation for cunning words and deceiving deals.

Janus stepped closer to the clear barrier, as though entranced. The Human roused further, head tilting sickeningly far to one side, gaze flickering between him and Leond with surprising intelligence.

“Is it secure now?” he asked, and with his face too close to the glass for her to track his eyes, he flicked his gaze upwards.

In the ceiling of the hall, thin enough to go unnoticed by most, there were gouges. The kind left behind by something sharp and narrow catching on the ceiling unexpectedly.

The kind Janus knew from his own quarters, where Virgil had gotten too worked up over a conspiracy thread and in his startlement, accidentally fully extended his aux limbs and voided their rental deposit by scraping a long line into the wallpaper.

These ones were deeper. Marks from offensive, full-force strikes that had gotten snagged and lost all their momentum, because a narrowed corridor like this was the worst place for a Chelcerae like Virgil to fight–

“Of course.” Leond’s mildly affronted voice seemed oddly distant as she gestured to the cell door. “The second cell was really a simple experiment, just to test the strength of our specimen. Even if it could somehow destroy the solid plylon bars, we’ve been administering regular doses of the tranquilizer since then. The next one is due soon; see for yourself how weak it becomes.”

Even hidden under fleshy opaque eyelids, the Human’s eyes seemed a little too bright. Janus let his tightly-folded aux limbs begin to unclasp, the movement rendered invisible under his cloak.

“I’d be a fool to turn down such a generous offer,” he said as he turned towards her, his posture open and disarming. “Frankly, I’m shocked Anxiety didn’t accept on my behalf.”

The carefully calculated words earned him a derisive scoff of amusement.

“I expect your underling isn’t as attuned to your desires as you thought,” Leond replied. “He objected to the presence of the Deathworlder even after we graciously offered him a cut of the profits.”

Janus didn’t have near as much plating as Virgil did, but the ones he had were visible enough for any shift in color to be noticeable. It took all of his willpower to hold back the reflexive threat display.

“My, how surprising. I suppose you didn’t take too kindly to that kind of insubordination.” The implied question rang clear: Where is he?

“I did not.” Leond shook out her mane in a gesture of casual impatience. “I didn’t want to inform you before you could see our investment firsthand, but Anxiety is no longer on board. We left him planetside, but still alive out of respect for you.”

Planetside. On the world they’d most recently retrieved ‘cargo’ from.

They’d put Virgil on a Deathworld. They’d left him there.

“What a shame that he didn’t catch on immediately. How long has it been since?” he asked, somehow not tripping through the words. “I’m reluctant to lose my own… investment, particularly one I’ve spent so long cultivating.”

Leond’s gaze flickered absently, as though trying to recall, but Aisleen shifted a step forward.

“It is too late. He was granted the mercy of a quick death, as is proper.” The low gravel of their voice was almost indistinguishable from the ringing that rose up in Janus’s mind.

“Aisleen!” Leond scolded, as though her crewmate had simply knocked over something delicate. “You take all the fun out of it when you do that.”

“I am sorry for displeasing you,” Aisleen replied, the words so dull they felt almost recited. The barest possible apology, one that showed no regret for the crime committed.

“An unfortunate ending. Once we’ve won the first tournament, we’ll grant you the cost of your investment back in full,” Leond said, placating but firm.

Janus folded himself away into a space small enough to hide the truth of him, because it couldn’t help him accomplish what he needed to accomplish.

Only his mask responded now, squeezing itself into a brief, mild annoyance before giving a dismissive shrug. A false shell to help him pretend he could ever brush off the loss of Virgil with such callousness. “As long as this plan of yours works as it should, I won’t take offense. My agreement is yours.”

A front hand offered forward, for the common arm clasp used by many for sealing barter deals. The other front hand held up in a silent signal of honesty.

Leond’s face was smooth and flat with smug surety when she stepped forward to accept the grip.

It didn’t remain that way for long.

With one hand, Janus dug his claws into her arm and pulled her forward.

With another hand, he drove a dagger through her gut, the hooked edge of it catching like a viper’s fangs.

With another hand, he reached out to the walls around him.

With another hand, he pulled the paralyzer from Leond’s holster, dragging it up to point at his non-stabbed opponent.

“What are you—?” Leond choked, before her words became too wet to distinguish.

Janus let his faceplate snap back to bare his teeth, his plates flushed pitch and his venom shining bright gold in a display that wasn’t a threat, but a promise. His aux limbs had all unfolded their way out from under his cloak, shorter but far more dexterous than Virgil’s, and were easily able to navigate the narrow hall.

His other front hand was still held aloft, and he leaned in to grant Leond the truth for the first and last time in their conversation.

“There is no toll you could pay that would even begin to match the worth of my Second. Your life and all it’s ever held is worth less than the tip of his claw,” he snarled, twisting the blade deeper. “But it’s certainly somewhere to ssstart.”

A flicker of motion out of the corner of his vision. Janus pulled the trigger, but Aisleen ducked under the paralyzer shot and crashed into him with their full weight, moving faster than he’d imagined they could to try and slam his back— and by extension, the vulnerable section of nerves between his aux arms— against the wall.

His brace barely held, and he dropped Leond’s thrashing body to press another two hands to the wall and give himself more support as Aisleen attempted to wrench the paralyzer from his hands.

No. He snapped his teeth, but his opponent managed to wedge an arm against his throat, holding him off as his booklungs flared to compensate for the lack of air.

“Release it! Or I’ll ensure you don’t receive the same mercy as your brethren,” they growled, and the last lingering threads of self-control in Janus’s mind snapped clean in half.

Most of his aux arms had been relegated to pressing palm-first against the walls, keeping him locked in place so he didn’t lose any ground or get cornered.

One of them was wrapped around a thick red emergency handle. It twisted easily under his grip.

“Your mercy is only another word for murder,” Janus spat, and wrenched open the door to the Human’s cell. “Receive it yourself.”

The Human, who’s heat signature had crept closer and closer to the front of the cell over the last few moments, dropped all hazy-eyed pretenses of being drugged in favor of lunging for the escape that had been granted to it.

Janus released his hold on the paralyzer, drew all his limbs in tight, and dropped to the floor. Aisleen staggered from the sudden lack of opposition, and recovered just in time for the charging Human to slam its skull directly into the stretch of rigid exoskeleton between their chin and their chest.

The bone shattered under the force like a piece of dropped glassware. The Human’s only sign of injury was a brief scrunch of the nose.

Aisleen dropped to the ground, paralyzer skidding from their limp fingers, and the Human stepped over them to the cell block entryway. Janus remained entirely still where he was huddled on the floor.

Without even glancing at him, the Human contorted horrifyingly to get its still-bound arms back in front of it. Then, with one sharp movement, it brought a knee up and its arms down at the same moment.

The bonds snapped apart easily, as though the cuffs were made from hollow branches.

The Human ignored the door keypad next to the entryway in favor of simply grabbing the manual handle and sliding the door open in one heave. Between one blink and the next, it was gone, the barest sprinting footsteps audible.

Janus lay there for a moment, between two soon-to-be corpses, and wondered why he wasn’t dead.

Distantly, he could hear echoing screams as the rest of the crew presumably encountered the consequences of their latest get-rich-quick scheme.

He didn’t particularly care. There was a little voice in the back of his mind that was frantically demanding he get up, grab the paralyzer, and see if he could circle around to his pod.

Janus considered it idly, getting as far as pushing himself upright before abandoning the effort and leaning back against the wall instead. He let his arms settle limply around him. The Deathworlder would be back for him sooner or later.

Live, that little voice demanded. It sounded like Virgil.

He’d sit here and listen to it a while longer.

[chekhovs-tantrum]

Sex ed on the Ninth is really a shitshow, huh

Bc on one hand you've got Pelleamena/Priamhark who are like, "sweetie we organized a massacre to fuck. you can't tell anyone unless you're soaking wet"

and then you've got Gideon "DIY Tittyzine" Nav, who sees a girl naked for the first time and is more shocked at her lack of makeup than her lack of clothes.

I want a fic of Aiglamene trying to use sword and sheath metaphors to explain conception to Gideon, who is too old to think that babies are delivered via air-dropped hazsuit, while teacher's-pet Harrow helpfully points out the Other Things that can fit in a sheath, like knucklebones.

[m-to-the-6th-power]

More WIP Wednesday

Gideon left Anastas soon after his confusing statement with a friendly, "We probably don't have enough time to unpack all of that right now. Keep the rucksack though, we'll get to it soon enough."

After a quick bite in the mess hall and a time spent walking and letting her brain process information with each step Gideon came to the rooms she had been told were hers. Once the doors slid open in a pneumatic hiss, Gideon was ecstatic to walk inside. The space astounded her, it was massive. The cell she'd been thrown in had put her cell in Drearburh to shame, but this was something even greater. It was palatial. 

When Gideon flopped on the bed, she didn't expect to nearly sink into it. It was soft in a way she never expected. Yeah, occasionally in comics beds would sink under people but, just like the necromancers' assets, it was assumed to be a conceit of the genre. No one wanted to imagine bedding their necromancer on a standard issue Cohort cot, or worse yet a Drearburh one. 'Would it be called cotting them then?' She wondered briefly to herself. 'Or is it bedding anytime people get intimate? I bet Harrow, no, Eleanor would know.' 

Gideon let herself enjoy the bed more, stretching out until her toes hooked on the end of the bed and hands wrapped firmly around the headboard pulling herself into a stretch like an ancient torture device. She felt her joints stretch more and more until they felt like bread soaked in grease. Loose and limber as she relaxed, sinking into the mattress and slipping into sleep. 

When she awoke it was to a booming knock on the door. As she tried to lever herself up Gideon struggled for a long moment before giving in to the inevitable and rolling out of the bed, landing in a sprawl of limbs and red hair. After gathering her dignity around her, she answered the door, finding the Saint of Duty standing on the other side wearing tinted lenses like hers. 

"You almost missed dinner kid," The Saint said gruffly, the voice was the same but something tickled the edge of Gideon's brain. "Come on, I've got a full spread in my room. The guard told me you eat like me when I was your age after a full day of physical exertion and a few bowls with G- my best friend."

Gideon nodded, still trying to place the issue, "Bowls of what?" She asked, moving back into the room and grabbing her clothes. 

"Oh, uh," The Saint began, quietly humming, "Do you have narcotics on the Ninth?" At Gideon's blank look, "Substances that can alter brain or body chemistry?" 

"We've got Nonagesimus," Gideon replied, "She always makes me lose my appetite."

"Not exactly what I was talking about kiddy. Some substances can be smoked out of glass pipes that resemble bowls. It's relaxing but some people, me included, get extremely hungry after smoking. It was great when we were trying to bulk up, as long as we could stay away from the potato chips and actually eat the jerky."

Gideon took in this word salad as they entered the rooms belonging to Gideon (Original Flavor). When they sat at the little table together, Gideon (The Sequel) felt a twinge in her chest, it was the second time today that she'd sat at a table with someone she could care for. The third time today she'd broken bread with someone who didn't look at her with scorn, even after weeks at the cohort the feeling left her feeling unmoored, adrift without a hazsuit in the void of space. 

"Did the bridge mending go well?" The Saint asked, heaping Gideon's plate full of food before handing it to her. 

Gideon took the plate, sitting it down as she replied, "Yeah, I talked it over with Eleanor. Once I explained that they threw me in jail and that I didn't ditch her intentionally, she was understanding."

[s-brant]

WOOT WOOT im literally gearing up and putting a face mask on to sit down and read the new chapter im so excited

YAYYY ENJOY IT MY LOVE!! CAN’T WAIT TO TALK TO U ABT IT 🥰🥰

[harryforvogue]

can u do a lyric analysis on ftdt? i love them so much

yeah totally!

“from the dining table” is a song that revolves around a time where it finally hits that the person you want to be waking up next to isn’t going to be there and harry, or the speaker, tries to find other ways to preoccupy himself in hopes to get rid of the lingering thought of this person. i think this song is most relatable to “fine line” in which harry is well aware that this person isn’t the one for him, but he flirts with that “line” in this song by sleeping with someone who looks like the person he loves. that’s his way of facing the problem head on...but also avoiding it.

“why won’t you ever be the first one to break”. in this relationship, harry highlights that he’s the one who always gives in first. i like this contrast because in “tbsl”, he says he’s an arrogant SOB who can’t admit when he’s sorry, so there’s clearly a conflict inside harry too. he doesn’t know when to stop, nor does he know when to start. he doesn’t know his limits, also like in tbsl where he’s actively engaging in behaviors with his ex who is no longer his, just to feel momentarily good. 

the lyrics are framed like a narrative, similar to “cherry”. harry’s right when he says that his songs are so clear and describe everything that happens, because in “ftdt” he’s waking up in a hotel, he’s seeing the old lover’s friend (possibly new boyfriend), and then he’s sleeping with someone else. i personally think it’s chronological. confusion to sadness to betrayal (because hey! that’s his shirt!) to revenge time, to finally: damnit, i’m hurt and lost and i don’t know what to do anymore. 

“comfortable silence is so overrated“. to me, this means that harry’s so tired of having to go from being with someone, to being total strangers with them getting nothing but silence from their end, and once again, harry struggles with this in “tbsl” where he’s still hanging out with his ex and she’s still calling him baby out of habit. again, harry just doesn’t know when to stop. harry says that we need to talk about what we’re feeling. i hate being shut out.

aside from the lyrics, the gradual build up of noise until the crescendo could signify the hope in harry’s voice, as many people are written before, and yes it’s very similar to “fine line”, except “fine line” ends on a hopeful note. to me, at least. and then all at once, it’s all gone with “but you, you never do”.

[mayasaura]

Hehe hehe "red hair"-ing

One of my favorites is the scene in the incinerator furthering that first red herring when Ortus Gideon the First Pyrrha said "Just tell me—back then—why you brought along the ba-". I was full convinced he she was going to say 'baby', meant baby Gideon, and was Gideon’s other parent. I had already guessed the truth after finishing Gideon the Ninth and that bit convinced me I'd been wrong!

And of course.

"But you were always too quick to mourn your own ignorance. You never could have guessed that he had seen me."

Pure euphoria. I don't know if I'll ever experience a high like that again.

Slightly nostalgic for the first time reading Harrow the Ninth and experiencing that ripple of excitement when Gideon Prime first strides into the chapel, in all his descriptive glory. Thinking you finally have a corner piece of the puzzle of Gideon Uno’s parentage, and the subsequent rising anticipation that Harrow piece it together in that feral way only she can. Only to have it completely obliterated. A Lyctor sized red herring, so to speak.  *swooning sigh* On re-reads, it’s a case of “How foolish of me. Muir, you delightful galaxy brained goblin. This soup is delicious.” The Locked Tomb series is one of those rare series that gets even better the more you re-read them. Each sweep through you find new things and more pieces. You think you’re playing snakes and ladders, meanwhile the TazMuir is playing 3 dimensional chess.

Please, share with us your fave moments you wish you could read for the first time? What your fave “Waaaait, a Jod damn minute!??” moments, that had you furiously flipping back through the pages to figure out what you’d missed or misconstrued?  Your fave lyctor sized red herrings?  (You’re welcome to add them in a reblog, or the tags. I’d love to hear about all your roller coaster journeys with this series.)   

[mayasaura]

Do you think that the flashback scenes in HTN could be John rummaging around in Harrow's mind to find her necromancer? Do they line up with G1deon's attempts at her? Is god inserting himself into Harrows false memories to gain Intel about her (like is he Abigail in the library scene?)

Ohh, interesting idea. That would be so fucking evil, if he were slipping into her head as people she knew to interrogate her about her missing cavalier.

I would love to see it played out, but I don't think that's what's happening in Harrow the Ninth. The flashback scenes (except for chapter 3) aren't really flashbacks or memories at all. They're dreams, happening in real time as the plot progresses. They take place inside a liminal space carved out of the River where Harrow goes when she's asleep or unconcious. I've been thinking of it like a pocket dimension. I think Abigail in the library scene really is Abigail, and Ortus in those scenes really is Ortus. Harrow has summoned their ghosts out of the River and into the pocket of liminal space she's created inside it. Abigail explains it in chapter 43. As far as we know, John couldn't follow Harrow into that liminal space because he can't separate his soul from his body without turning off the sun. We've also never seen anyone in River present themselves as anyone other than who they are. Even Wake, at the height of her control as the Sleeper, was wearing the hazsuit she'd died in.

You do have me curious now, tho. The Canaan House chapters are playing out in the River, and the River is part of John's domain. I wonder if he knows what's happening there, and is just waiting to see how it plays out. Harrow's soul is literally leaving her body to visit her pocket dimension, which seems like something John would notice.

I did check for correlations between Gideon the First's murder attempts, John's presence, and the flashback chapters. I didn't find a pattern that would suggest John was causing the flashbacks. The first flashback happens on the Erabos, two of them happen while Harrow is sleeping in Ianthe's bed, and the last portion of them happen while Gideon is awake and piloting Harrow's body. But I did notice something interesting. The first three flashback chapters are bracketed by Harrow passing out and waking up, so we know exactly when they happen. The chapter before the third flashback is the first time she passes out in public, when she hears Gideon's name after Cytherea's funeral. She's carried from the chapel to her bedroom by someone unknown, meaning someone was in close physical contact with her empty body. So I think John may well have known that Harrow's soul was going on sojourns outside her body, even if he wasn't causing them.

Gideon the First's murder attempts don't seen to correlate with anything other than his presence. He makes his first attempt a few days after being introduced, and we don't know when in the timline the next fourteen happen, just that they do.

[alexanderhoportfolio]

Day 21 cthulhu #monstober #inktober .the idea was first a logo. When drawing the head .. soon became biomecha hazsuit with a person. Sometime my chaotic way suits the lovecraftian being. #unboundsketcher #monstober_art #monstober2018 #inktober2018 #cthulhu #mechsuit #inktdrawning #inkt #sketchbook #linework #2dart #dailyartistiq #robot #tentacle #weapon #cute #lovecraft #monster #instagramart #lovedoodling #penbrush #kuretakebrushpen #smoke https://www.instagram.com/p/BpNY8qeCHpX/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=gzk0ldmi4ylz

[localtiredgoat]

What about the guy that posts people in hazsuits with captions

[s-brant]

you are an amazing writer!!!!! you should really think about publishing your work one day! Xx

thank you my love! and that’s definitely my end goal of it. every book i write i like better than the last and they keep becoming more original, and i’m hoping soon enough i’ll have a manuscript someone will want.

[s-brant]

if you need any help writing/brainstorming your new story let me know!!!! i am dying to write a harry fic especially after reading your stuff lol

omg i would love that stop! i never have anyone to bounce ideas off of. this is, of course, if you don’t mind spoilers lol.

[s-brant]

@hazsuits is helping me plan the new harry book and let me just say you all are going to go FERAL

[ratttrap]

Rattrap stared, wide eyed in disbelief as the raptor began to weakly move around. Was this really happening? Maybe the room really WAS filled with toxic fumes.

He was snapped out of it when the sounds of approaching footsteps could be heard. Seems the humans were ready to investigate this so called chemicals further. Their getaway was now or never.

Ripping off the sleeve of the hazsuite rattrap got a small explosive from a compartment in his arm. Rushing it set it up again the far wall before returning to grab the zombie dino, kicking down a table to pull them both to hide behind it as the explosive did it's hob, blowing a hole in the wall of the room.

"Come on!" He yanked the limp body onto his back and made a jump for it. They landed on the roof of his small ship, slipped inside and took off. The human scientists only seeing the taillights as he raced off. "Oh Primus!..."

After taking a moment to catch his vents and set the ship to autopilot ad it let earth, Rattrap finally approached again. Taking a closer look at the weak, transmetal frame.

"Are yah, actually alive?" He poked again at his face. "How is this even possible?"

Lost & Found