#he cycles near caves at night

[vinyldraconia]

Malleus the Briar Dragon 🐉👑

[mj2606k]

Day 7 : Roleplay

Avatar: Mating Season

Pairing: Fem!Sarentu!Reader x Eetu

Warnings: sexual roleplaying, elements of dub-con, sheltered!reader, tsaheylu, Na’vi heat cycle, breeding kink, fingering

Summary: Eetu and his mate decide to spice things up a bit in the bedroom, specifically by taking the days of her heat to act out the days after Y/N escaped TAP as if Eetu had found her before So’lek.

A/N: With the same logic as Jake’s hearing Na’vi as English in ATWOW, they’re speaking completely in Na’vi in this mc I just don’t have the ability to properly translate everything they’re saying due to my limited resources. Some Na’vi words will still be said in Na’vi, same as in ATWOW, but generally pretend it’s all in Na’vi 😅

Taglist: @daydreamer246 @ikeyniofthetayrangi

It doesn’t take much for Y/N to get back into the headspace she hadn’t been in for nearly three years now, not when she’s wearing her old TAP uniform and she’s running through the forest near the now abandoned building. She had no forms of protection other than the knife Eetu had gifted her, which she had strapped to her ankle beneath her boots.

When she had originally proposed the idea to her mate days ago, he was hesitant to leave her out in the open, especially with it being the beginning of her heat, though once she agreed to bring her knife Eetu agreed, although he was still a bit nervous about it. However, Eetu also knew his mate could handle herself, after all she was trained by Eetu himself, and Y/N knew he would be a lot less worried about her once he caught her.

Speak of the devil, Y/N hears Zumey screech not far behind her and she can’t suppress the small giddy smile that pops up on her face as she catches the faint hint of her mate’s scent. She runs for a bit longer before diving around a large tree and pressing herself hard against the bark, sucking in a breath and going stock-still as she hears Zumey circle overhead once, twice, before landing a bit of a ways away. Y/N waits until she hears Eetu hop off the ikran before she breaks into a sprint, heading towards a cave they had chosen beforehand when they were planning this whole thing.

Eetu had gone back to the cave last night to do a double-check that it was abandoned and relatively clean, as well as a comfortable size and not cold, taking some dry wood and bark to the back of the cave in preparation for their plans. Now, Y/N nears the cave and quickly removes her boots, tossing them nearby but not directly at the cave entrance before near-silently running into the cave and heading to the back.

She could already feel her heat beginning, her body heating up quickly and her thighs becoming slick with her heat-induced arousal, only made worse by the adrenaline and the knowledge that her mate was nearby. Y/N stumbled over to the pile of cloths and blankets that she had had Eetu drop off this morning while she was out running, climbing into the pile and quickly making a nest, panting quietly from her heat and from the exhaustion of running like that for that long. She coos quietly once the nest is how she likes it before reaching over and grabbing one of the flasks of water, downing half of it before closing it back up and relaxing into the nest.

It doesn’t take long for Eetu to find her; he had been tracking her scent since Zumey landed, and now that his mate was in an enclosed space her scent was even more evident, drawing him in like a predator hunting for his next meal. Once he reaches the cave he takes a deep breath to try and clear his mind, letting himself get into his role for their little game. He draws his bow and knocks an arrow but keeps it aimed at the ground, slowly walking into the cave.

Eetu goes slowly so his eyes can adjust properly to the low light, and he has to hold back a smile when he hears his mate whimpering quietly, no doubt she can smell him as he nears the back pocket of the cave. He rounds the corner at the end of the cave tunnel and smirks slightly as he sees Y/N laid on her stomach in her nest, her pants kicked off out the one side of the nest as she clumsily fucks herself with two fingers, whimpering into one of the blankets that she had bunched up beneath her head.

“Oh, look at you.. pretty little thing, just begging someone to help, yeah?” He murmurs quietly, unknocking his arrow and putting his bow across his shoulders where it usually rests on a hunt. Eetu slowly steps closer to the nest, dropping down to a crouch as he gets within sight of his mate. She whines pitifully at the sight of him and he chuckles as he sees her begin to fuck herself faster with her fingers, encouraged simply by his eyes on her.

Eetu sets his bow, quiver, and knife down outside the nest, also taking off his cummerbund and setting it down before climbing into the nest, cooing as Y/N lets out a quiet growl. He knows she was just playing her role, proud of her for being able to stick to the game even in the midst of her heat. He chuckles quietly and gently smooths his hands down her back, shushing her softly. “Now now, no need to get fiesty, Syulang, just gonna help you.” Eetu murmurs, biting his lip slightly as he watches her continue to fuck herself on her fingers, her slick soaking her thighs.

Eetu watches for a few long minutes before he hears Y/N let out a whimper that sounds like she’s ready to burst into tears, and he hurriedly undoes his loincloth, tossing it aside. He reaches forward under Y/N’s bunched up t-shirt, undoing the crappy RDA-issued bra and tossing it across the room, rubbing her back again and cooing softly. “Gonna let me stuff that pretty cunt, Syulang? Promise it’ll feel so much better than your little fingers, pretty girl.”

Y/N hurriedly pulls her fingers out of her cunt and lays down face down ass up, purring loudly as Eetu leans down over her and presses soft kisses and bites to her shoulders and the back of her neck, lifting herself slightly so he can take her shirt off for her. Once she’s completely bare she fully relaxes, cooing affectionately as Eetu nuzzles against her upper back in an attempt to calm her hormones down a bit, trying to ground her before she started getting too needy.

Eetu gently turns her head and kisses her deeply, reaching down and pressing his thick cockhead against her weeping cunt, groaning quietly as she squeezes him impossibly tight. “F-fuck, Syulang, gotta relax f’me, please.. there we go, good girl, such a good girl.” He murmurs, slowly inching his cock deeper and deeper into her until he bottoms out and she goes almost completely limp below him, already looking fucked out when he looks down at her, sitting up on his knees and rubbing her back gently, only giving small thrusts until she fully relaxes and settles into the feeling of him filling her up.

Eventually she starts fucking back against him and Eetu chuckles as he begins rolling his hips against hers, groaning quietly as she lets out needy whimpers and moans, her cunt gushing around him as he fucks against her g-spot. “So wet baby, really needed me, hm?” He whispers, mostly to himself but she whines out a “mhm” in response anyway, making him smile softly. Within a few minutes of fucking her, Eetu can feel himself nearing his climax and his thrusts pick up pace, losing his rhythm and getting a bit sloppy when Y/N clamps down around him and cums, not able to warn him as she mumbles incoherently beneath him.

“Fuck, f-fuck baby, gonna make me cum, ‘m so close.. that what you want, hm? Want me to give you a baby, make you a mama?” Eetu leans down on top of her, still fucking her deeply as he speaks quietly directly in her ear. She keens loudly and uses the rest of her strength to fuck herself back onto his cock harder, whimpering softly as she mumbles loudly, half of it incoherent. “P-please, wan’ a baby, please!”

Eetu groans quietly as he presses his forehead against her shoulder, panting quietly as he picks up his pace, his hips stuttering before he presses in as deep as he can and cums, Y/N whimpering as he paints her walls white. They both slowly calm down, Eetu nearly collapsing on top of his mate but he catches majority of his weight on his arms on either side of her. He leans his head down and gently kisses her temple and cheek, kissing her softly when she turns her head towards him. Eetu’s murmuring soft praises, not yet pulling out since he knows she’d throw a fit if he did after telling her he’d give her a baby. “Did so well Syulang, took me so well.. gonna be such a good mama, baby.” She coos quietly and smiles sleepily up at him, maneuvering herself to lay on her back so they can cuddle properly, his cock still nestled inside her warmth as they fall asleep, Zumey keeping watch outside the cave for the night.

[xo2dee]

ᴛʀɪɢᴜɴ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ

ɢᴏᴏᴅ ʟᴏᴏᴋɪɴɢ

★ ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: Vash the Stampede x Reader

★ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: Implied Sexual Content. MDNI/18+.

★ ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 6,659

★ ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: Oh, my good looking boy.

★ ᴀ/ɴ: any vash you wanna imagine here really, though he may lean little into trimax but still imagine whichever vash you want

★ twitter - ao3

The sweat on the mirror dissipated as you ran the pad of your finger down the glass, a muted squeak from the action making you squint and pull away from it with an exhausted sigh while glancing at the door for the umpteenth time. Mind running miles at the fastest millisecond, you licked your lips and looked into the mirror once more and pondered over the tumultuous thoughts that had been plaguing you.

You had turned the shower on three minutes beforehand, yet your clothes remained stuck to your body and your mind moving too fast for your own liking despite how you longed for that moment for days.

Like the reflection in the mirror fogged over, your outline was nothing more than a hazy memory caught in a near forgotten dream as you ran the heels of your palms over your eyes and cheeks; heavy fatigue was beginning to set in your body and you knew it’d only be moments before you mulled over forgoing a shower and collapsing into bed if you kept just standing there in a lust of lethargic want (much to the chagrin of yourself in the morning and your companion sitting just outside the bathroom door).

A wisp of warmth curled itself around your neck after a few seconds of contemplating the idea, the first sensation to heat before actually seeing it. A glance over your shoulder let you watch the steam rise before you looked back into the sink, the tap water that had ran a lukewarm in contrast to the boiling temperature you had pushed the shower knob towards. The sink faucet occasionally dripped into the dull porcelain bowl; a telling sign of the conditions of the Inn that you couldn’t complain over, more than glad enough to have made it somewhere to actually rest your head in the comfort of a blanket rather the cold nights No Man’s Land brought. It was nice to have made it to civilization after several days, an itch already settling in between your shoulder blades and your fingernails gritty from the ground that made your teeth ache after just two cycles of seeing the suns and the moons.

You were (explicitly) dirty.

Not to mention, you had sand everywhere, and it itched.

(And you meant everywhere.)

The heel of your boots had somehow gotten severely cuffed from the sand, pressing down on the said heels of each to relieve your feet from them, your socks having folded down to the arch of your foot from sweat and painted a dark beige from where sand have caved itself into your shoes. It was soggy and made your nose wrinkle, your tired and sore broken soles finding solace in the cold tile of the bathroom floor once you kicked them fully off with a sigh, only to sneer at the sand wedged up into your toenails and gripped onto your knuckles. A slight shift backwards from where you had leant up onto the counter let you feel the chafing along your thighs, rolling your neck with another heavy sigh as the importance of a shower suddenly was at the top of your list before sleeping.

You were sure it was also on the top of your companion’s list as well, your ears picking up on the creek of the mattress through the thin, wooden-paneled door as he shifted and two low thuds followed – perhaps taking his own sand-clogged boots and leaning back on his elbows as he waited on you. A twitch of your lip had you remembering the night before when you complained about the back of your knees itching, his cheeks comically full of food as he boasted that he didn’t have that problem until you had ran a hand through his hair and commented that it felt like straw. He had wailed and swatted your hand away, running long fingers through his blonde locks with a glob of tears in the corner of his eyes as he begged you to tell him it wasn’t true and you were just teasing him.

With his face in your chest, you had said, ‘No, Vash, your hair doesn’t feel like straw. I was just teasing you’, while running a hand through said hair that did feel like straw. You figured you’d let him down easily... after he washed his hair and he found his face in your chest again.

Speaking of… you bit your thumbnail before promptly removing it and spitting out pieces of grit, glancing to and from the shower and the door as the temperature of the shower seemingly started slowly waning and the misty dew on the mirror began to drip. The oncoming clear view of yourself let you know the hot water wouldn’t last too long, something you’d gotten accustomed to since the Plants were often working minimally unless Vash stepped in. It would easily be resolved if you took a short shower, however, you were aching and needed to seriously scrub parts of you for some time, and you knew Vash wasn’t too keen on taking a brittle-boned, cold shower and would most definitely hog the blankets that night as his own form of revenge. Soooo, if you both wanted hot water…

In retrospect, the idea wasn’t an oddball considering the complexities of your relationship, though you knew of certain limitations and boundaries that came with the each of you. Considering Vash’s… ‘biology’, as quoted to you once by him, and what he kept hidden underneath the several layers of clothing he wore, it was very rare you got to see an ounce of skin that wasn’t the peek-a-boo of his throat whenever he tilted his head back and you squeezed your thighs together when his Adam’s apple bobbed with a hard swallow. Sure, you’d seen him completely free of constrictions, ran your fingers and kissed along the multitude of his scars as he shuddered and wiggled underneath you, but you knew some things were better off to be left undone for the sake of boundaries and respect.

You two were long gone since the days of getting separate rooms or one with two beds, instead finding your arm slung around his waist and him snoring into your collarbone well into the late hours of the night. Yet, you and Vash had done more things together than you’d done with anyone else, a low twist in your stomach reminding you of that as you grimaced from the course of your thoughts. As much as you’d done, you’d never actually showered together; be it the teasing or jokes, it still was left at that, so your uneasiness on the matter left you pausing and rolling your ankles absentmindedly wondering if you should even try and ask since it’d been brought up multiple times but nothing had ever carried through.

Then again…. what if he just didn’t want to shower with you?

“…” You decided to rethink that a little.

Red cheeks and ears with that hand behind his head as he tried to wink flirtatiously at you anytime you talked about showering? Yeah… Maybe your problem was overthinking when the answer was right and front of you and he was waiting on your consent.

You made up your mind.

You pushed yourself away from the counter, bare feet padding along the floor as you made your way to the door and pushed it open, wondering why Vash hadn’t voiced on what was taking you so long and giving you full sight to him lying fully on his back with his arms behind his head, eyes closed and you were wondering if he was pretending to be asleep again in the dull lighting of the room. The floorboards creaked under your light steps and one of his eyebrows twitched – not sleeping; aware and waiting on you to speak first. You let your eyes trace over the sharp jawline and lone mole he possessed before speaking, his red coat garnering your attention for a brief glance as it laid draped on the chair just opposite the bed.

“Vash.”

He blinked once, twice, before he turned his eyes over to you, his glasses sitting along his hairline letting you fully see the blue of his irises, and that eyebrow that twitched before rising fully as he awaited to hear what you had to say.

You waved your hand forward in nonchalance, “C’mere.”

A few seconds was all you got to watch for the shift in several expressions playing across his face, inquisitiveness settling into playfulness as the corner of his mouth lifted and his eyelids lowered, “Something wrong? Can’t get the shower working again?” he snickered at his own joke, the heat in your cheeks reminding you of the numerous times you had seek him out for help working some of the Inn’s showers you had stayed at.

Eyes narrowing down, you sent him a half-hearted glare and embarrassed frown, “You hear it running, don’t you?” His hands rose as he did, sitting up as lifted them in defeat at your snark, leaving you to sigh and relax your shoulders as a familiar knot made its way into your belly and slithered into your throat. Vash momentarily looked concerned for a moment when you just stood there at the doorway glancing around until you finally got your tongue to work with your vocal chords, “No, just… come shower.”

There… you finally spit it out, albeit in the lamest and most awkward way you could’ve managed.

(It was a miracle that Vash was just as lame and awkward as you were when it came to voicing wants.)

His hands fell into his lap, rolling his joints and knuckles around as one of the blonde pieces of hair brushed across his long eyelashes, “You… You haven’t got in yet.” You certainly didn’t miss the way he ‘discreetly’ drew his eyes along your shape, knowing that while you looked and felt a mess, he was ready to drop dramatically down onto his knees and declare that you were the most beautiful person in the entire world if you so much as voiced feeling gross. Nevertheless, you waited for him to finish swallowing, the gear already seeming to turn on his brain and you briefly thought about slamming the door shut and pretending you never asked. Vash’s hand found its way onto the back of his head again, eyes creasing as he gave you an embarrassed smile, “Awh, but I always let you shower first.”

Beating around the bush… That’s what you both were doing, making you exhale deeply through your nose through a never-ending bout of nerves shooting into your heart. Vash had seen you nude multiple times, what did it matter for that time? Asking him, you reminded yourself sourly, steeling down anxiety balling itself up in your gut as you pointed at him, “I know, but the hot water will probably be gone –”

“You do shower for a long time –”

“– And,” you ignored his interruption with a scathing look, “I figured it’d be best if we preserved.”

“…’Preserved’?”

“Yes.”

“As in…?”

You rolled your eyes and sunk your nose into your palm, getting nowhere and everywhere but your destination at the same time, before sighing heavily and leaning against the threshold, “Vash, come shower with me.”

There was a beat and his glasses slid back down onto his nose, askew and his eyes peering over them the longer his face seemed to take on a different hue. The blush was at its minimum at first, though the longer the words and meaning held themselves in the atmosphere between you both, the deeper it began to color his cheeks. You had to stop yourself from giggling at how dumbfoundedly cute he looked, reminding yourself of your own growing embarrassment at how aggressive you nearly made it sound, nearly just actually shutting the door and forgetting you ever asked because the longer you two sat there gawking, the colder the shower was going to get.

(And it wasn’t like you two literally hadn’t explored each other’s body, however you knew the problem of lied within the individuality of the proposition without the confines of wanton heat.)

The damning silence was getting insufferable, Vash finally blinking out of his stupor and sitting up straighter since you had gotten his full attention from that, “I mean – Are you sure? I didn’t think you’d ever want to.” He was back to rolling his wrist – the prosthetic one.

Thinning your lips, you rose an eyebrow, “Of course. I just asked you. And you’ve said things in the past about it.”

“I know! But you know me…” he clapped his hands together with sheepish laugh, “Don’t wanna put you into a situation that you’re uncomfortable with.”

Wasn’t that the truth, if the numerous times he’d nearly left your ass the very first days you started hiking along with him. Learning that, no, he wasn’t being an asshole in trying to leave you behind, and more yes, he was definitely trying to protect you from the magnet of misfortune he carried on his back rather than just blatantly not wanting anything to do with you. It was heartwarming, but you weren’t about to be left behind just for all that when you’d had your own course of problems hightailing you as well, and it wasn’t like you were ever uncomfortable with anything that had to do with Vash, more-so worried if you were the one ever making him uncomfortable.

The lingering thought had you spiraling for a moment, your brash approach on the matter causing you to take a couple steps back mentally as you rolled your ankle around and flexed your fingers along the threshold of the door. Perhaps you had misjudged in your steps and needed to remind yourself you still needed to actually ask him. You blinked and parted your lips, the words coming out like vomit and making your cheeks burn the more you spoke, “I should be asking you that though… I mean I know about everything else, but if the idea makes you uncomfortable…” you trailed off, deciding that the conversation would be number two on your list of most awkward things you two had talked about, right above, ‘intercourse with an Independent Plant’ and just below, ‘our feelings’.

Vash waved a hand, body turning on the bed so that he could face you and held his hands out palms up in a sign complete surrender, “No, nothing like that…” He was back to the lingering stare, tracing from your throat to your chest, until he settled down onto your legs, the swallow not hard to miss with the bob of his Adam’s apple and his voice a little rougher when he spoke again, “I’m not uncomfortable at all with the idea.”

Ah, just too shy to actually do it you supposed. That made the two of you, relief coming onto in you in waves as your shoulders relaxed and that knot of anxiety nearly diminished. You smirked while leaning forward, lowering your eyelashes at him and reveling in his red face and frantic swallowing, “What’s the matter, Stampede? All bark and no bite this time around?

He groaned, his head falling back, “Don’t call me by my government name… And no, I was just worried you didn’t want to do it.”

This man.

“Vash.”

He flinched, “Yes...?”

“Do you want to shower together?”

He was up, almost in the most cartoonish way standing ramrod straight from his lounge on his bed and faster than your eye could follow, wiping his hands down on his pants and jogging in place for moment, “I thought you’d never ask.” Vash seemed proud of his own joke, albeit that tilt of a jitter in his laugh led you to believe he was still just as nervous about the idea as you were.

You pushed off the door with your own swallow, the confidence beforehand waning within you as you were forced to look at the shower running again and could hear Vash following after you, the soft click of the door shutting behind him dropping down into your stomach and making your wring your hands. It was one thing undressing each other in the heat of a moment, but doing it in front of each other…

Vash rounded up in your peripheral vision with his tall form shadowing the dull bulbs of the bathroom, glancing to the shower and at you as he wobbled in his stance in front of you, his nails beginning to scratch at the fabric of his gloves as the awkwardness of the situation began to finally settled into him as well. He was looking everywhere and at you at the same time, irises jolting about in the small room as he seemingly awaited for you to say or do something that gave him the get-go, and perhaps just too nervous to begin undressing just yet.

Let’s get this over with.

It was just showering… Nothing too incriminating about the idea.

Your fingers hooked into your bottoms in finality, shimmying them down your hips and the length of your legs as you toed them free to leave yourself in your underwear – something that Vash was desperately trying not to look too hard at. He’d seen you naked more than enough times he could count with his fingers and toes combined, but you supposed the intimacy of the situation was clogging up his throat and making it so that he wasn’t sure on what to say or do other than shying away. You wrapped your arms around your middle, fingers beginning to dig into the hem of your shirt as you shakily sighed, “I don’t know why you’re so shy now, you’ve seen everything I have to offer and I’ve seen you.”

“Haah, it’s – uh, the intimacy…” Vash scratched his nose, feigning nonchalance as he ran his finger along the buckle of his belt while his eyes darted from you to a water stain on the wall to his right, “Y’know, all the passion and intimate details… It’s missing that pizazz.” His glasses came off first, setting them down onto the counter next to him before his fingers slid free of his glove and he began to play with the hem of his shirt.

You snorted, peeking through your eyelashes at the skin his abdomen coming into view the more he twisted his shirt around before he reached behind to grasp the collar of it instead, “How could I forget you’re such a romantic?”

Vash hummed, a grin sneaking its way onto his lips while his ears grew a pinkish hue, “You know me, my middle names are Love, Peace, Passion, and Romantic.”

Corny. You held back your laugh with a deep breath, pulling your shirt over your head as you spoke, “I thought your middle name was The.”

You snickered at your own joke while hearing Vash sigh, pulling your head free from your shirt to fully bare your torso to him, yet the fabric of Vash’s shirt landing on top of your head and covering your face from any sight made you pause. The frantic clicking of his belt buckle was next, your lips thinning and nostrils expanding at the scent of him saturated into his shirt, and his voice nearly a murmur when he spoke again, “Haha, you know what I meant…” his tone was guarded, and for a moment you thought you may have offended him with your teasing, grabbing his shirt to throw it off into the floor to get a better look at his face, yet coming up short at his frantic shuffling and girlish yelp, “Wait – !”

You blinked, free from the black of his shirt and let it flutter onto the floor at your feet, and let your eyes wander over Vash cautiously. Seeing him shirtless was nothing new, having spent nights tracing different scars and the knotted muscles along his abdomen, albeit Vash was rather particular of parts he remained shy of. His belt undone and fly unzipped, you traced along his skin there and a few new bruises he sported along his right ribcage, coming up onto his hand and fingers coiled along his prosthetic arm with his cheek sunken in to let you wonder if he was biting the skin between his teeth. You kept your mouth shut, between Vash nearly cowering and looking as if he was trying to hide from you it seemed best to wait until he was ready to speak.

For a moment, you wondered if you had overstepped a boundary, yet you couldn’t quite think what would cause a visceral reaction from him like that.

He sighed after a moment, sullen and saturated with dejection, the whirring of his arm pricking your ears as he readjusted his grip and rolled his shoulder, “I… I usually take it off when I shower… ‘M not around for regular tune ups so I can’t risk it tightening up on me…” Vash continued to look to and from you, eyes bright despite his tone while gauging your expression for anything and shifting his stance, “But – I mean – if it bothers you I can keep it on –"

“Vash… why would that bother me?” you interrupted quickly, realization dawning on you immensely for what was the cause of his sudden hiccup and timidness. You’d never really seen him without, not that it even ever particularly bothered you, Vash’s hands (prosthetic or real) were all the same to you; neither differentiated in how they felt when he held you. However, you supposed it was his own self-preservation on the matter and really the only thing you could do was listen to his concerns and try to console him.

Vash’s expression flickered for a brief second, the ashamed worry shifting into a tangible hope at your question before it quickly vanished into something you couldn’t quite place, “I just… you’ve never really seen me without it; figured it could be a lil jarring.”

Ah. You had been correct in your assumptions; even seeing the skin of his torso had been a giant leap of your relationship. Glimpses of his hand free of his glove had been the start, a lingering scar over the top of it you had ran thumb over multiple times whenever you interlocked fingers with him, were the first you experienced, and soon after it was letting you curl your hands underneath his shirt whenever you were cold, the textured blemishes something you felt rather than seen as the fire crackled close to your face and you sat in his lap at night. Chaste kisses got more passionate, your hands and his own seeking for purchase on each other; a spinning jewel ready to melt into igneous magma the more you two gripped and grasped for one and another.

You remembered the night clearly – you had spent every moment he let you marking the scars with your lips to reassure him, his hands shaky and unsteady on your hips with every whimpering noise that left his lips.

Nevertheless, you understood then, each time Vash kept both hands so that he had enough to hold onto – enough to hold onto the fabric of reality that dissipated whenever you two were together and interjoined (be it intimately or not). You offered him a smile, turning your palms face up and letting your voice feel as soft as he looked, “No, you’re still you. Regardless of anything. I wouldn’t want it any other way.” He swallowed and you took a step forward, then another whenever he didn’t protest, until you were close enough to touch him, the cold buckle of his belt pressing into your hip bone and his scent overloading your senses, “You’ll look exactly the same to me regardless.”

The air shifted and he inhaled sharply, blinking furiously enough to wonder if he was going to start crying before he pulled himself together, “That’s –” he licked his lips, an uneasy laugh following after and you focused on the sharpened tips of his canines once he gave you a small in smile return. Almost looking pitiful. “You don’t have to say all that, but okay, just… promise not to freak if I look weird.”

“I promise, but I never will think you’ll look any different,” you answered, shaking your head and stepping back to let him undress in his own space.

A quiet, ‘Okay’, left him as he dutifully took his arm off, twisting it a few times where it was attached as you listened to the soft whirring before he gently removed it, setting down next to his glasses on the counter. He sighed as he rolled his shoulder, clearing his throat once he made eye contact with you and moved to his pants with a shaky hand. The old scars on his shoulders and down the length of his arms stretched as he moved, veins protruding outward as he pulled his belt free and used his feet to help pull off the rest of his pants – boxers following, you acutely noted once you saw the familiar pattern signifying a plant tattooed across his pelvis. All in all, it was truly a wonder to you to see the expanse of Vash’s body, often wishing he’d show you more so that you remembered how beautiful he was.

(And a reminder of how much you needed to remind him as well.)

The clatter of the buckles along his pants falling into the floor broke your attention away from the glowing symbols, a loud cough from Vash afterwards as you trailed your eyes back up along the V-line of defined muscles and his naval, counting the knotted row of abdominal muscles until you were back up to his face, the discomfiture apparent on his expression as he stood fully nude in front of you and you had been blatantly ogling him. You didn’t say anything else, remembering your underwear you still wore as you shimmied those off as well, eyeing Vash’s Adam’s apple bob with his heavy swallow once you bared yourself fully to him. You saw no reason to be embarrassed any longer, the confidence not necessarily something you needed or had in that moment, as long you were feeling comfortable with Vash and he was feeling comfortable with you nothing else mattered.

“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to this.”

You hummed absentmindedly, toeing a tile on the floor as you pushed your clothes together in a pile atop the floor, glancing up at him as he gazed into the mirror next to you for a long moment until looking back to you, something brewing in his irises as you sighed and rolled your ankle in wait. You knew he had something he wanted to say.

Suddenly, he smiled at you, eyes creasing once more and cheeks boring the color of blood.

“Looking in the mirror next to you makes me realize how flawless you are.”

You balked and looked away, embarrassment flooding into your cheeks and your ears getting hot as you wrapped your arms around your chest, “Hardly.” Truly, Vash’s ability to just blurt those compliments out would eventually be the death of you.

“Awh, c’mon, why are you getting shy?” his hand moved to lie on the back of his head once more, his cheeks garnering more of that red hue as he started to take note of the both you standing there completely nude in each other’s presence.

“I’m not shy, it’s cold…” You didn’t sound convincing at all, shrinking in on yourself as your nipples hardened and skin broke out in chills. Luckily, Vash caught onto the body language (and the awkward conversation that was beginning to brew).

“Uh, right… we should probably…” he looked into the steam-infested shower, eyelashes flickering with numerous blinks and a tilt upward on his lips.

“Yeah, so,” you straightened back up and sent him a sneaky grin, “After you.”

He nearly looked like he wanted to roll his eyes, guiding you to the shower once he grabbed your hand while keeping it tucked tightly against his own before sliding the curtain back and gesturing you to go in first. You didn’t argue, walking in before him and sighing in satisfaction whenever the hot water massaged down onto the crown of your head and your back at the same time. The muscles in your legs and back relaxed, easing you as you twisted your body around to get every inch of your skin wet and tilting your head back to let it shower over your face and under your neck, expression and body relaxing as the sand and dirt stuck to your body slipped down the drain in brown residue. You nearly wanted to ask Vash what was taking him so long, only to stop yourself short at his loud yelp and fumbling behind you.

“Ack! Why’s it so hot?” he whined, stretching his back to get away from the onslaught of heat it brought into his skin. He nearly had himself wrapped in the curtain when you glanced over to him, half of that gravity-defying hairstyle plastered in wet strips along his cheeks as he looked downright appalled at the temperature of the water.

You snorted, “I like my shower water hot enough to melt my skin.”

He huffed, unwrapping himself like a frazzled maiden and coming closer to the water to stick a leg out under the spray of it and get accustomed to it. He hissed and whined, “This can’t be safe.”

“Don’t be a baby.” Turning away, you let the water spray down your chest, eyeing the soap bar next to you until you heard Vash clear his throat behind you, turning back to him with a rising eyebrow, “What is it?”

Vash jerked like he’d been caught eating the food off of your plate again, scratching his head and trying to not look where you supposed his eyes wanted to, “Nothing! Just… admiring the scenery you could say.”

It was cute, however you knew neither of you were in the mood and given Vash’s lack of an obvious excitement that you couldn’t see, you knew he was perhaps really just admiring you in a nonsexual gesture. “Hmm,” you squinted at him, discreetly eyeing him from head to toe before smiling sweetly at his blushing face once you had another idea, “Can I do something for you?”

You didn’t necessarily wait for him to answer, and he realized he didn’t have to move the moment you stepped free of the spray coming from your end, stepping leisurely towards him in the small space until you were right up on him. You stopped in front of him, hands raising and placing your palms flat on his pectorals, blinking up at him when all he did was stare. It was unnerving to a degree, his pupils contracting larger as you tapped his chest with a finger.

“Vash?” you asked, eyes squinted from the harsh spray of water pounding down onto the both of you.

Vash dazedly looked around, blinking like he was delirious and dark eyelashes lowering as if he wasn’t sure he was seeing you truly. Though as the awkwardness began to settle in your gut and you thought briefly about pulling away from him, he answered you nearly dreamily.

“Anything.”

The smile that lit up your face made the blush on his face grow even more noticeable as you looked away from him and watched your fingers walk across his chest and along an aged scar. You wanted to sigh at how he shuddered and his breath close to your came out shaky; he still seemed slightly insecure over you seeing his bare chest and abdomen, knowing good and well you had already seen it once before and had your fair share of groping his chest in late nights in the bed together and drooling on them while you slept. Still, you also wanted to kiss away his worries in reassurance and compassion since he was feeling the same as you were, and for that you only wanted to return the favor when all Vash had done even before that moment was worship your body while you only had chances to when he let you take control some long nights.

With Vash’s sculpted body on display you slid your hand down and pressed it onto his tight stomach, feeling the muscles twitch and flex underneath your touch as you began walking your fingers up and down each abdominal muscular tissue with a small grin on your face. Once you got to his faint happy trail you ran a slow fingertip along it while hearing him hiss through his clenched teeth in pleasure and his body twitch at the sensation as you did so, a quiet laugh leaving you before tracing your fingers back along each taut part of him.

His body reminded you of a painting, dips and texture when you ran your fingertips across the canvas akin to how it felt to caress his skin. Each scar was his own brush of paint, roping together into an abstract of art that you were eager to admire and even more eager to be able to touch.

A hum left you before you began to speak, discreetly watching as he raised his arm and placed his hand atop your shoulder, letting you skim along his ribcage as you spread your fingers out to feel each bone as he shuddered, “I found it hard to believe you were hiding all these muscles underneath that coat.”

A noise escaped him, throaty and quiet, as his fingers tightened on you, “Yeah, well, for good reason. Didn’t want you running away from me at first look.”

You frowned, leaning forward to skim your lips across the blemish on his chest, “Not what I meant… And I’m still here though.” He didn’t answer you, leaving you to press a kiss in the middle of his pectorals. His low sigh encouraged you, peppering kisses along his torso much like he did your own in your own form of body worship. A higher-pitched noise sounding like a whine left him as whenever you pressed your body fully into his own, kissing around his ribcage as he jumped and you backed off to blink coyly up at him, watching as he kept his eyes on the ceiling and his parted, pink lips continuing to match the coloring on his cheeks, “Still so ticklish? Or sensitive?”

Vash’s fingers dug into you deeper, his stance shifting and a sigh pushing through his lips whenever you pressed your cheek back into his chest with your arms weaving around his body. His tone was slightly shaky when he answered you, “I don’t know… It – It feels good though, so you can keep going,” he admitted perhaps a bit too shaky for his own liking as his breathing began to speed up the more you kissed along his chest.

You hummed against his hot skin and with Vash’s sweet sighs and relaxing muscles egging you on, you kissed some of the old, fading scars and the rather new one along his sides tenderly only knowing they existed in the times you spent tracing a finger around his skin those nights you spent cuddling. You kissed them with an overwhelming amount of affection, a reminder that he was still gorgeous with them and a reminder that he was strong enduring even the harshest of battles and coming out from them alive; a reminder that his scars were a symbol of keeping his promise. He blew air through his mouth then, a sigh so soft and full of longing, it made you realize he never really had the attention towards himself that way – be it his own reasoning and all.

Each kiss you placed onto his warm skin you sighed afterwards, discreetly inhaling his scent each time you did so for how good he smelled and how his natural scent brought you comfort more than you could imagine. As you felt along his body, you began to feel the jittery nerves you had before slowly begin crawl back into the depths of your mind to be forgotten for the time and to be replaced with the burning affection you had for him.

Lastly, you placed a chaste kiss to his arm, pressing your cheeks against the beating of his heart and leaning fully into him, “You’re gorgeous, Vash. I hope you know that.”

Vash inhaled sharply once more, chest shaking as his hand slid down your body, “I – You don’t have to tell me that. Not to make me feel better.”

You frowned, pressing your lips to his skin to let him feel it, “So you can tell me, but I can’t tell you?”

“It’s different –”

“It’s not, Vash,” you interrupted, pulling your face free from his chest and lifting your chin to look him in eyes, finding wet eyelashes and rosy cheeks, “You should already know your face is already handsome, but the rest of you is just as beautiful – inside and out.” Your own cheeks warmed at reassuring, the words unfamiliar in your mouth yet not sour in the slightest; comfortably saccharine and rewarding by the look you were getting from his expression. You placed another kiss to his chest, just above his heart where an arguably near life-threatening scar remained, “I mean it.”

You couldn’t see his face from your position, but the sound his breathing and the fast pacing of his heart told you everything you needed to know. His swallow sounded wet, his hand moving once more to find your cheek and pull you away from his body. You nearly didn’t want to meet his eyes, embarrassed by your forwardness, but you realized you didn’t necessarily have a choice. His palm was hot, matching the temperature of the shower (as well as the temperature both of your cheeks were emitting), and you had to swallow through that anxiety-ridden knot when his fingers brushed along your cheek and he was pulling your face back up to his own. Your eyelashes fluttered through the sweltering heat and steam, wondering if his own were fluttering because of the same, or perhaps he was blinking away a hot course of tears.

“Come here.”

Vash never did have to tell you twice.

The kiss was chaste in its own way despite the heat around you both, yet enthusiastic in the way he pulled you into him. Your heartbeat slamming against your ribcage into his own, his fingers digging slightly into your face and yours lingering about on a long scare atop his spine, and the wisps of his hair tickling your cheeks as your lips molded together in the perfect fit of the puzzle you’d been searching for. His gratitude in the form of words he couldn’t find for the situation, and you realized suddenly neither one of you minded that each other were naked and could find comfort in the skin-to-skin contact.

Vash pulled away while keeping a firm hold of your face, pupils dilated as he gazed at you, whatever gloss you had seen beforehand still, yet that time not ready to spill over, “Thank you.”

You smiled, “Of course,” you smacked onto his mouth with another longing kiss, laughing as he chased after when you pulled away stepped back to grab the bottle of shampoo the Inn had provided, “Now, come here. I’m washing your hair.”

“You don’t have to –”

“Yeah, I know, but it’s dirty and feels like straw, Vash.”

“Excuse me? How dare you? You just told me last night it didn’t!”

“Oops?”

“’Oops’? This is the meanest thing you’ve ever said to me. I can’t believe the love of my life could be so cold to me… An honest man who –”

“This would probably be a good time to tell you that I did eat your sprinkled donut that night too; not the tomas.”

Vash screamed.

[doc42]

"It is more than a story."

Daenerys Targaryen and Jon Snow in GRRM's very first novel Dying of the Light.

"In the holdfasts of the Ironjade Gathering, for example, boys were taught that the universe has only thirty stars, and High Kavalaan is its center. Mankind originated there, when Kay Iron-Smith and his teyn Roland Wolf-Jade were born of a mating between a volcano and a thunderstorm. They walked steaming from the lips of the volcano into a world full of demons and monsters, and for many years they wandered far and near, having various adventures. At last they came across a deep cave beneath a mountain, and inside they found a dozen women, the first women in the world. The women were afraid of the demons and would not come out. So Kay and Roland stayed, seizing the women roughly and making them eyn-kethi. The cave became their holdfast, the women birthed them many sons, and thus began Kavalar civilization."

"Most Kavalars think of the banshee only as a plague and a menace," Jaan Vikary explained. "In its natural habitat it is a frequent man-killer, and the hunters of Braith and Redsteel and the Shanagate Holding think of banshee as the ultimate game, with a single exception. Ironjade has always been different. There is an ancient myth, of the time Kay Iron-Smith and his teyn Roland Wolf-Jade were fighting alone against an army of demons in the Lameraan Hills. Kay had fallen, and Roland, standing over him, was weakening by the moment, when from over the hills the banshees came, many of them flying together, black and thick enough to block out the sun. They fell hungrily onto the demon army and consumed them, one and all, leaving Kay and Roland alive. Later, when that teyn-and-teyn found their cave of women and established the first Ironjade holdfast, the banshee became their brother-beast and sigil. No Ironjade has ever killed a banshee, and legend says that whenever a man of Ironjade is in danger of his life, a banshee will appear to guide and protect him." "A pretty story," Dirk said. "It is more than a story," Janacek said. "There is a bond between Ironjade and banshee, t'Larien. Perhaps it is psionic, perhaps the things are sentient, perhaps it is all instinct. I do not pretend to know. Yet the bond exists." "Superstition," Gwen said. "You really must not think too badly of Garse. It's not his fault that he never got much of an education."

And the dragonlore.

We shall not pretend to any understanding of the bond between dragon and dragonrider; wiser heads have pondered that mystery for centuries. We do know, however, that dragons are not horses, to be ridden by any man who throws a saddle on their back.

Who can know the heart of a dragon? Was it simple bloodlust that drove the Blue Queen to attack? Did the she-dragon come to help one of the combatants? If so, which? Some will claim that the bond between a dragon and dragonrider runs so deep that the beast shares his master’s loves and hates. But who was the ally here, and who the enemy? Does a riderless dragon know friend from foe?

These were the likely events, Vikary argued, self-evident truths that produced modern Kavalar society. Jamis-Lion Taal, wandering the face of the world many generations later, had been so much a child of his culture that he was unable to conceive of a world in which women held any status other than what he saw; and when he was forced to think otherwise by the folklore he collected, he thought the idea intolerably wicked. Thus he rewrote all the oral literature as he cast his Demonsong cycle. He transformed Kay Iron-Smith into a thundering giant of a man, made the Sorrowing Plague a ballad of eyn-kethi wickedness, and generally created the Impression that the world had always been the way he found it. Later poets built on the foundations he had laid.

On Braavos, it had seemed possible that Aemon might recover. Xhondo's talk of dragons had almost seemed to restore the old man to himself. That night he ate every bite Sam put before him. "No one ever looked for a girl," he said. "It was a prince that was promised, not a princess. Rhaegar, I thought . . . the smoke was from the fire that devoured Summerhall on the day of his birth, the salt from the tears shed for those who died. He shared my belief when he was young, but later he became persuaded that it was his own son who fulfilled the prophecy, for a comet had been seen above King's Landing on the night Aegon was conceived, and Rhaegar was certain the bleeding star had to be a comet. What fools we were, who thought ourselves so wise! The error crept in from the translation. Dragons are neither male nor female, Barth saw the truth of that, but now one and now the other, as changeable as flame. The language misled us all for a thousand years. Daenerys is the one, born amidst salt and smoke. The dragons prove it." Just talking of her seemed to make him stronger. "I must go to her. I must. Would that I was even ten years younger."

[throughtrialbyfire]

𝐖𝐈𝐏 𝐖𝐞𝐝𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐝𝐚𝐲 ♥

it's wednesday again!!!! i woke up weirdly early today lmao, and i've been editing all day.

tagged by the lovely @thequeenofthewinter ! <3

tagging the fantastic @skyrim-forever @umbracirrus @archangelsunited @saltymaplesyrup @orfeoarte

@oblivions-dawn @vivifriend @kookaburra1701 @changelingsandothernonsense @dirty-bosmer and anyone else who wishes to join in this week!! <3

this week, i bring a long (1.6k word) section of Chapter 42 of Cycle of the Serpent. the trio are on their way to Wolfskull Cave, and who knows what they'll find there… fun fact, this chapter (as of rough edits, not completed) is 11.5k words, my longest for the fic yet.

Clouds bowed over the distant horizon. The Sea of Ghosts had the peculiar honor of being a divide between Haafingar and Morthal, swamp and rocky shores, the flow of the saltwater carried into an estuary and the Karth River not too far from the Dragon Bridge lumber mill. Athenath thought of his father. He'd been a lumber worker when their mother had met him, and continued the line of work even when it took him away from the city of Anvil proper for days on end. He would come home, and sleep, and work, the post-Great War economy a wobbling, flightless thing, especially for the family of Mer. The map laid out the names of towns in dark ink, marked with the routes the trio had traced, spindly along the pre-illustrated paths. The road, which the trio had become familiar with and moreso by every trip out of the city, bore them west. The sun straggled through the mountains that crowded up one side of the way, laced through the limbs of the trees which bit down on a thick wind off the beach. Athenath pulled their knapsack tighter as his curls whipped at his cheek, scrunching their face as more tickled the back of his neck. The armor's stitching, courtesy of Emeros, held up well, and kept them warm. The leather held off the sun's burn and cold breeze, but in the summer-end heat, did its job a little too well in staving off the chill of the wind. Autumn was near its beginnings, however, and they could glean the slightest gold on the edges of the leaves. Hearthfire was near its end, as was the summer. Soon, the green grasses would grow brittle and flax-yellow, and the trees would be bare, aside from the evergreens and conifers that pinned the horizon together. Soon, maybe, this would all be over.

The inside-of-outside-of sensation which made the potent mixture of his distrust and revulsion had only grown in strength since the day before, as if it was coming to a grand crescendo. It snuck up on the Altmer, a spider on the shoulder or a whisper in the dark. He looked to Emeros and it coiled like an adder. He looked to Wyndrelis and it growled in warning like a dog. He looked to the sky and thought of the things the others had done to keep them alive, what they'd all done to keep one another alive, and it grew until it choked on its own ends, and suffocated under the weight of the reminders. The nights together in laughter or in silence, however few there were, still burnt brighter than what unseen hands tried to extinguish them. The cave was not far from the town of Dragon Bridge, past the farm where the chickens' clucking took up the air, along with the slightly sour, earthy-wet stench of livestock. The odor hung as the trio passed by, waving to the woman working to harvest what her garden had given her before it all went to ruin. The passing look of the idyllic spot before the sea, close to a town but just out of the way, brought back a gnawing of want for Riverwood. It was the first scant amount of peace that Athenath had experienced in this land, and the tall pines and looming mountains were a longing he couldn't put out of mind. Sure, there had been battle in the barrow and a hunt for a strange wolf and the skinning of it which left them nauseated and pale, but it was, in the hue of nostalgia, a fond memory. The time before the trek to Whiterun and the battle at the watchtower, the time before the Dragonborn. He did not want to know what it meant to carry that title. It wasn't theirs to take, they thought as they continued their leisurely pace in the middle of the other two, Emeros at the back, as though keeping watch for some invisible force, the Altmer's nerves on edge at the sight. Wyndrelis stepped in a slow stride, having spent early morning examining soul gems, most empty. He'd said something to himself about needing an enchantment table, and had scrutinized his mace while saying so, but all else had been nothing to the Altmer, who knew only the barest amount about magic. It was all around them, and for a high elf, knowing little magic was a shame, their ability with it ceasing at the fickle flame that they sometimes had luck in making with their fingers. But he'd had their excuses - raised in the Imperial province, in the time just after a war with elves, magic was a distrustful beast which skulked all around the air and deep into the earth. In the wake of such a war, Wyndrelis had not been daunted. He'd reached into the fabric of the world around them, took hold of the magic, and knit it into himself to make it his own.

And so had the wizards, stalking shadows of a cave hidden from the city and towns and farms, out of the way of all, and taking down ten men in one blow. Athenath swallowed dryly. The image of the cart full of stinking bodies wouldn't leave them, no matter how many times they scrubbed at their eyes with his curled fists and summoned spots to their vision. It was a mark in their mind like a long, broken scar. It took the story of the cave from tale to tangible. It made it real. And Athenath had, somewhere deep down, hoped it was merely myth. "We'll be heading up Mount Kilkreath," Emeros announced from his position at the rear, map clutched in his gauntlet-clad fingers. His gear made thin noises, cloth wrapping around the bottles inside his knapsack. Without his old experiments, he'd made more place for useful potions, and had been quick to purchase ingredients for healing and disease-cures, apparently spending the prior day after Athenath had stormed off in Angeline's Aromatics and working at the alchemy station and asking questions about the flora of Haafingar, where to find certain things, what she recommended for potency in the region, putting the hurried mixtures together. They would not be nearly as effective without time. Emeros had lamented the fact that morning while tucking them into his bag, sharpening his words until the warning was clear: that he would not be of much use if the other two became injured.

"That's not too far," Athenath remarked with a shrug and a small, apprehensive pause, "so Wolfskull Cave is close, then?" "It's practically across the road, we must have missed it by a mile or two the last time we were in the area." Wyndrelis grunted a small noise, as though this were his reply. As though he, too, were not at peace with the arrangement. They could have waited, or not gone to the cave at all. Captain Aldis was the authority in matters like this, but he was going to wait a whole two days to gather the people for the job. This was two days that none of the trio thought the city had. There was an electric quality to the air, like that shiver down the neck before a fearful wailing, that held the clouds at bay and kicked the roots up that grounded the trio's patience. The stench of rotten fruit and musty, humid chambers, the ache of the sleepless nights and the hum of a mood that wasn't theirs. The choice had fallen to the wayside long ago. "So, when we get there, what do we even do?" Athenath's question stuck in the air like a pin in a gown, the other two pausing, strides coming to a slow stop. The trio looked between one another, haggard eyes meeting haggard eyes. Emeros tightened a hand on the strap of his quiver slung over his waist, his bow in firm place on his back. "I'll take anything that's at a distance. I would recommend, however, we keep our heads down. We're merely here to investigate. Should we not see the need for combat, then we shouldn't make it necessary." Wyndrelis curled his lip. "Corpulus said something of wizards, correct?" A beat passed. A nod from the other two. "I don't expect this to be peaceful. I'll try to ward off spells, but you two will have to do the fighting, in that case." The warmth of Dawnbreaker collected in Athenath's awareness. The sword would serve them well if they went up against the undead, but weren't swords only as good as the swordsman? Their palms went clammy at the thought. They were not exactly a skilled swordsman, or fighter of any capacity. They preferred to hide in the shadows and dodge the light, to keep their footsteps quiet and to leave no trace of himself, not to fight up against anyone or anything.

Athenath tied their hair back with the scarlet ribbon in their pocket. He tightened it a handful of times to make sure it would hold, and drew in a long, tense breath. Their hair always had a habit of getting in his face at the wrong time. They wouldn't risk their own body betraying him in a moment of needed focus. "It's just up the way," Emeros looked to the figure of Meridia, the statue which grew closer with each step, "let's mind our surroundings and try to be quiet from this point onwards." The other two didn't reply, as though the idea had been taken to heart in the fullest extremes.

[lint-beetle4]

can you do shadowserpent fluff story, like the chaos snake guy just crushing on mac and mac not even realizing it. Love your short stories by the way :3

Head In The Shadows (ShadowSerpent) Fluff

You're in luck, Anon! We have another ask that I got a few days back from AO3 which means I'm legally required to do this one! (This is a joke, I'm just mixing these two together)

A guest on AO3 had asked "Hi i really like your work, if you have time and motivation can you do a shadowserpent ship fluff story, just the snake boi crushing on mac in the brotherhood, if you can write it i'll be soooo incredibly happy but its alright if you dont do it. Love your work, keep up the good work and remember to take breaks :) PS : I need more shadowserpent story, why am i the only one shipping them 😭😂"

Fluff is hiding under here, I'm just making sure people can scroll by easily and through a wall

Through all the cycles he’s been through, Xiangliu could say that this one would have to be one of the most infuriating. All this time, he’s gotten close to his favorite celestial primates, bursting with magic and raw chaotic energy, yet despite everything, they remain so distant from him. Other cycles would have the three as thick as thieves, even closer if the serpent demon was lucky. Despite everything, Xiangliu was mainly in the side lines, observing Macaque and Wukong train enthusiastically.

The snake demon had his eyes on the darker primate for a while now, the way a certain energy radiated from him that differed from anything he’s seen before.

It was unique…It was–enticing, to see just how Macaque’s shadows fluttered and swelled like the deep abyss of the ocean.

Xiangliu’s magic mirrored that of chaos, static and uncontrolled, nothing like the smooth nature of the shadows that Macaque had at his disposal. 

Ah--

Their training had come to an end, the two now laughing and drying themselves off of sweat and grim. Xiangliu stood up, a gentle smile on his face as he regrouped with his friends.

Days turned to nights, and Xiangliu found himself entranced by the moon, gone from the sky leaving nothing but the shine of the stars in its wake. It was a quiet night, one where Xiangliu could look out and almost taste the freedom he’d been craving.

“You’re out here again?” Macaque had snuck up behind Xiangliu, nearly scaring the chaos being. “Why is it always that I never see you sleep at night?”

Xiangliu sighed, a sorrowful smile as his eyes never left the sky. “I suppose the night calls for me, never letting me sleep.”

“And I’m the dramatic one?” Macaque scoffed, sitting beside the snake demon while looking at the sky, trying to find what his friend had been missing. “Let me ask you something.”

Xiangliu turned to Macaque.

“You always seem to have this look around us.” Macaque explained, eyes centered on the ground with a fierce concentration that could cause the grass to tremble under its pressure. “Something…Nostalgic, I guess.”

Macaque’s hands fiddled with the near scarf that laid across his shoulders. “You never tell us anything, and I suppose I just…want to know you more, I guess.”

“There’s nothing much to say…” This was the hardest part, to reject a stable life in pursuit of what the snake demon truly needed. “I’m afraid I…I can’t offer much to you.”

Macaque sighed, his head drooping slightly. “Look, I get the ‘mysterious and cool-guy’ act, but you can’t just keep all those secrets and thoughts to yourself. We’re a team, aren’t we?”

“Yes, a team.” Xiangliu felt his chest twinge, hope and pain coiling and twisting frantically in his chest. “I…I can’t say much, a lot of it won’t make sense now.”

Macaque only nodded, a slight gesture that had Xiangliu’s mind spiraling further, clouding any logic, any sense he could’ve had.

“I’m…” Oh, how words continue to fail him. “Have you heard of Plato, from the western lands?”

“The philosopher? I’ve heard little of him.”

“There’s this story– of a cave.” Xiangliu looked at the sky, longing returning at full force in his heart. “These people have grown inside this cave, but one has ventured out, seeing the sun and the warmth it had to offer.”

“Yet, when the person came back, his friends had ignored him, calling him a fool.” Xiangliu sighed quietly. “They refused to listen, and yet, the person stayed, exactly like the fool he had been called.”

Macaque’s expression shifted, sympathetic almost as if he understood. 

“I’ve yet to return to that sun, to the warmth that the cave no longer bore.”

“You’re right when you say it wouldn’t make sense.” Macaque huffed, a soft chuckle. “But, I get it. You’re trapped in a cage, behind bars with people who fail to see the world outside of that cage.”

Macaque stood up, holding a hand out. “I can help–find those who had trapped you, and set you free.”

“Oh, that’s–” Xiangliu couldn’t hold back the bittersweet cackle that escaped him, a fire that burned through his body. “You never cease to surprise me, Liu-Er.”

Xiangliu took his hand, trying to remember that familiar warmth before it pulled away. Macaque only gave a slight stare before chuckling.

“You never cease to mystify me. Get to bed already, you’re probably delirious.” It was one of those nights where Xiangliu was deprived of the sun and the moon, and the chill that invaded his body never ceased. Yet, hearing the soft breaths of his comrades, of his friends, made the ache slightly better, gave him hope that would be wiped away later on. Xiangliu closed his eyes, await for her hands to cast away this universe once more.

[brutal-nemesis]

E&T: Deep in the Bowels of Gluttony

I am forcing more CAVE WHUMP into your enclosure (with an added dash of inspiration from my favorite national park that I can never visit ✨)

Suggested Vibe: Duma’s Scourge from Fire Emblem Echoes: Shadows of Valentia (youtube)

←Previous - Masterlist - Next→

Ingredients: a lot of gore. eating is involved in the goriness if you couldn’t tell. it is also very gross. Wow! Oh and there is a little bit of burning

By the time Erebus finished crying, his hand had grown back.

He hadn’t even realized it at first, too caught up with gut-wrenching sobs to be aware of anything else besides how much his head hurt, how hard it was to breathe, how terrified he was to be in this strange place all alone, how he might never make it back home, or even back to his cell, how hopeless he felt, how-how-And then he’d noticed the stump of his left hand, no longer ending in a jagged tear, little strings of skin dangling off of it, but a-it was growing, it had to be, those little white nubs poking out of the mass of muscle had to be the bones of his hand, bones that had definitely been…Before he knew it he was crying in earnest again, his body’s sudden strange capability to repair itself overshadowed by the trauma of the past hour, fear and exhaustion replacing awe and relief, because even if he could heal, it didn’t change the fact that he was stuck here, now saddled with the possibility that not even death could set him free.

If there was one good thing about this world, it was the fact that he was more alone than he’d ever been, and no one knocked on the door to interrupt his crying, no one commented on the redness of his eyes or asked him if he was okay too soon after he’d started to calm down. He caught his breath slowly, peacefully, washing the tears off his face using the fresh water from one of the pools near the sea, scrubbing the dried blood from his perfectly healed arm, revealing a ring of scar tissue around his wrist. The thought that neither of these hands were the ones he was born with almost sent him into another spiral, but he shook his head and put it out of his mind. That was enough for today. 

Today…Frowning, he looked up at the sky. Its blackness hadn’t changed in the slightest since he’d arrived here, and something told him it wouldn’t anytime soon. Even back in the windowless cell, he’d had meals and Neteri’s visits to help him keep track of the passage of time, but now there was just…nothing. It was all down to whatever cycle of waking and sleeping he fell into, and given how tired he was now, he was ready to get that started. 

Walking back to his pack, left at the base of the cliffs, he noticed his leg was no longer in pain, either. Once he arrived, he pulled the knife out and used it to slice the stitches still woven through his flesh, wincing a bit as he pulled the thread out. The holes left behind healed quickly enough that he could ignore them and busy himself finding a good place to lay his bedroll for the…night? For now. 

He ended up settling down along the cliffside, too afraid to lie out in the open despite how quiet it was here, and it wasn’t long before his exhausted body gave in to sleep.

When Erebus woke up, the sky was the same empty black as before, and it was impossible to tell how long he’d slept for, but he felt rested enough despite the circumstances. So now he was just supposed to…wander until he found something? He considered flying to get a better idea of what was around, but he decided it would be better to save his strength for the next fight. Since crossing the sea was out of the question, he headed back into the rocky maze he’d first arrived in. Eventually, he found himself at the entrance to a cave, a gaping hole in the side of the mountain rising even higher than the cliffs around him.

If the demons were tied to elements like their counterparts, the dragons, then whatever one was tied to the element of earth was definitely in that cave. His instincts screamed at him not to go into the dark, cramped space where his wings likely would be more of a hindrance than a help, but if he was going to get out of this place, then he’d have to go in eventually. So best to get it over with while he was here.

Erebus had never been inside of a cave, but he’d heard about how beautiful they could be, and…how dangerous. But he’d be okay. He could heal, for some reason. He’d be fine. He could handle this. He had to.

Burying his doubts, Erebus headed inside the cave, almost immediately tripping over a small, rounded protrusion of stone. They littered the ground, and the ceiling, too, their lengths varying. He’d have to take care to avoid them, then. 

Soon enough, though, the ground began to slope downwards, and the dim gray light streaming in from the cave’s entrance began to fade, not enough for even his new eyes to see with. It wasn’t long before he was stumbling along in the dark, unsure how much progress he was making, or if he was even headed in the right direction. He could be a couple steps away from a dead end, for all he knew. Or even a cl-At that moment, Erebus’s boot caught on a rock, his desperate grasps for something to catch himself on meeting empty air, and now he was falling, spinning, bouncing off the uneven stone, everything was slippery enough to slide out of his grasp but hard enough to break his bones, faster and faster until-

Cold. Deep cold, water, he was underwater, he had to get to the surface, had to find it in this spinning dark void, no way to tell which way is up, which way is death, swimming flailing reaching-his hand broke the surface, and he worked his way up desperately, his sodden clothes and heavy sword making it difficult, but he made it, he breathed, he coughed, he dragged himself out and laid on the bumpy stone next to the water’s edge, panting as his body throbbed and stung with a hundred cuts and bruises. Of course he hurt himself before even finding the demon. Of course. If only he had some way to know if he was even going in the right direction, but no, he was just supposed to stumble around in the dark.

One of his horns hurt, and upon poking at it gently, he found that the tip had broken off, exposing the tender flesh inside. Not like they served any purpose, besides telling him where…wait. What he wanted most was to get out of here and go home. To get out of here, he’d have to fight all the demons. Starting with the one hidden somewhere in this cave. So, by that logic, what he wanted most was to find the demon in these caves. He closed his eyes, not that it changed anything, and drilled that thought into his head. He needed to find that demon. Wanted to. Had to.

Erebus couldn’t help but smile as his horns started to tingle ever-so-slightly. 

It took some time to get used to navigating the cave based on the feeling in his horns. The changes in sensation were rather subtle, so it was difficult to tell immediately after changing course if he was heading the right way. It would have been much easier if he could take a direct path, but the twists and turns of the cave forced him to switch directions constantly, sometimes leading him to dead ends or passages he was too large to squeeze through. Progress was slow, but he was making progress, he was, the tingling was stronger now, his scrapes and bruises from his fall earlier had healed, and his clothes were beginning to dry, despite the cave air being rather cool.

Well, now that he thought about it, the air had grown warmer than when he’d first entered. He’d been so freezing from his wet clothes that he hadn’t realized it until now, but it was definitely getting warmer. That had to be a good thing, right? It wasn’t getting any lighter, unfortunately, so he was still stuck feeling his way along through the darkness, nothing but the tingling sensation in his horns to guide him, but at least he wasn’t shivering as much anymore.

It was getting warmer and warmer, hot now, and humid, the stickiness of the air reminding him of summers back home. Were caves supposed to be this hot? He’d been grateful for the warmth at first, but now he was sweating profusely, the thick, moist air making it somewhat difficult to breathe as he clambered up slopes and squeezed through small gaps, the feeling in his horns growing so intense he was starting to get a headache, made even worse by the slightly rotten smell that was starting to permeate the air.

Erebus stopped at the edge of some sort of drop-off. It was impossible to tell how far down it went, only that it was longer than his arm. He’d been scared of this, of having to fly while blind. Out of breath, he sat to rest for a moment, letting the slight breeze cool him off a tiny bit, wishing it didn’t smell so rancid.

Wait…breeze?

The air was moving, pulsing past him in a hot wave, and then a cooler gust in the opposite direction. It was rhythmic, over and over, back and forth, in and…in and out. 

Breathing. It was breathing.

If-if Erebus could feel its breathing, and the intense heat from its body, its stench, then it must be close, just off that ledge maybe, after all this time wandering around in the dark he’d finally found the next demon. With renewed energy, he stood and drew his sword. He’d have to approach this carefully, making sure he didn’t fly straight into the wall instead of hitting his target. After waving his hand over his head and not feeling anything above him, Erebus carefully took flight. It was difficult to move so slowly in the air, especially as he started to head down, but he didn’t want to risk falling who knows how far and landing on who knows what. 

Feeling his feet catch on something, he tried to land, but the ground beneath was slippery and almost gave way beneath him, causing him to fall for the second time today. Thankfully, he landed on something soft, though it was weirdly wet and sort of slimy, like…Erebus cried out and scurried back, but everything he touched was the same, squishy and warm and smooth and…and…It was flesh. All around him. He-he’d somehow flown into the demon’s mouth, he must have, its breath was rushing by him with even more force now, the nauseating scent of rot all around him. He had to get out. He just had to fly up. He could do this. He’d be fine. 

But…where was his sword?

He’d dropped it in his panic, like an idiot, and now he needed to find it. He wouldn’t stand a chance against the demons without it, and then he’d never be able to go home, never see another person again, he couldn’t accept that, he had to calm down, had to focus. He wanted that sword more than anything. It was his way out.

His stomach sank when his horns told him his sword was below him.

There wasn’t any choice but to fall further into the belly of the beast in order to kill it.

He took his time lowering himself, but it was more difficult than before. The heat was making his head throb, not to mention the toll all this flying was taking on him. Being unable to glide was putting a lot more strain on his wings than he’d realized, and though he couldn’t quite feel it through the sheen of sweat covering his face, he tasted the blood dripping out of his nose. By the time the buzzing in his horns peaked and his hand wrapped around the cool hilt of the sword, the world was starting to spin, and he all but collapsed next to the blade, which had buried itself partway in the fleshy ground. 

Erebus didn’t know if he had the energy to stand. The heat and all of that careful flying had sapped all of his strength, leaving him sprawled on the hot, soft flesh of the demon’s insides. Was this it? Was he just stuck here until he fell further and ended up digested? The healing he had for some reason was slow, probably too slow to keep up with stomach acid. He breathed in deeply as the slightly cooler air coming in rushed past him, trying to calm himself down. The demon’s breaths were deep and long, so they were difficult for Erebus to match perfectly, but he tried anyway, the less rancid-smelling air coming in making him feel a little better somehow. But why would…memories of dust, Neteri’s forehead against his, the puff of her breath against his cheeks. Sharing breath. He was sharing breath with this huge demon, gaining a little of its life force as he did so. 

Once he felt well enough to stand, he did so, holding onto his sword for support. He could do this. After bracing himself as best as he could, he started to pull, wincing at the awful squelching sound the blade made as it slid out of the flesh it was buried in. It came out with a sickening pop, squirting what Erebus could only assume was blood all over him. Some of it even landed in his mouth, and it…it tasted good. Really good, like a rich, meaty stew. 

His empty stomach started to growl.

This was a demon. Not a person.

He hadn’t eaten in over a day.

No one would ever know.

He needed energy.

Hands shaking, he pulled out his knife.

Just a little bit. 

It was warm, wet, chewy, almost rubbery, the texture making him gag slightly, but he didn’t care, not when it tasted this good, buttery and savory, little hints of spice dancing through it, shifting from one flavor to another, and he was powerless to stop, grabbing more and slicing it off, shoving it in his mouth before he’d even finished chewing the last bite, his hands and face slick with that delicious blood, the perfect sauce to go with his meat, the fingers on his right hand had grown claws at some point, and now he was tearing away at the walls with his hand, ripping chunks off with his teeth, continuing to slice and shred long after he’d eaten his fill, even as the ground below started to shake, a guttural roar drowning out the sounds of flesh tearing and blood dripping, the force of it sending Erebus to the ground, snapping him out of whatever trance he’d been in.

What…what had he just done?

How could he be sure there wasn’t anyone else out there in the blackness? 

He could feel the ghosts of his parents watching him, watching their son turn into the monster he looked like. 

He had to get out of here. 

The walls shifted and pulsed as the demon’s breath sped up, roars and moans sounding out so loudly around him it made his head hurt. Its mouth might be closed now, trapping him inside. He’d have to find another way. Or just…make his own.

A large section of one of the walls had already been ravaged, cut and torn away during his frenzied eating, so he resumed work on it, slicing away chunks with his sword now, tossing them to the side instead of bringing them to his mouth. Progress was faster when he could focus, but it was almost impossible to tell how far he’d come, how much he’d carved away, how close he was to breaking through the skin. He came across a more rubbery section and ended up having to almost saw away at it, blood spurting all over him as he went, as if he wasn’t already covered in it. How whole body felt so sticky and sweaty and gross, and all he could think about was washing off somehow after he got out of here.

Blood was flowing out steadily now, coming out with more and more force, and soon enough it was all Erebus could do to hold onto his sword, his anchor buried in the fleshy wall, praying he wouldn’t get swept away by the jet of hot, sticky, delicious-smelling blood. H-he must’ve cut into a major blood vessel. Those shot blood out like crazy, from what he remembered. Maybe this would be enough to kill the demon? Then he’d just be…trapped inside its corpse. For now, it was still very much alive, its roars and moans starting to get louder, more desperate.

All of a sudden, the ground beneath him lurched, and Erebus’s sword slipped out of the cut it was in, sending him tumbling backwards, the river of blood sweeping him away before he could try to stand up, stab the floor, do anything to save himself, but he had to, he couldn’t fall any further down, couldn’t lose the tunnel he’d carved out in this sweltering blackness, couldn’t sink into the sea of blood and digestive acid that was likely waiting for him below, he had to stop somehow, the sword was too long, his wings couldn’t generate lift, nothing to do but desperately scratch at the slippery ground below, dig his claws in, deeper, deeper, deeper, hold on, arm trembling with the effort, he couldn’t afford to let go, to fall, the blood was coming with less force now, the tremors not as frequent, just a little bit longer until…

The great beast fell silent, fell still, its blood merely trickling by now, dripping in imitation of the water in the cave surrounding it. 

Erebus dragged himself to his feet, coughing up blood. He’d tried to keep his mouth closed during the whole ordeal, but some had still made its way in. Was the demon actually dead? It was hard to tell for sure, but he supposed it didn’t matter. He had to get out of here regardless, and any other escape route besides his tunnel was out of the question. Nothing to do but resume work, then, and hope he could get out of here soon.

Time crawled by as Erebus hacked away at the wall, and just when he was starting to think he wasn’t headed towards the surface of this thing’s body, his sword met with a different sort of resistance than before. It wasn’t like the blood vessel, more stretchy and tough, but he was pretty sure he was able to poke through, and soon enough he’d made a gap large enough for him to squeeze through. He didn’t realize how hot it’d been in there until he was sitting outside it, the cave air unbelievably refreshing after being swallowed up by that rancid heat. 

After feeling around a bit, Erebus decided he must be on the demon’s back or something. The slope down was pretty steep, enough that he wasn’t sure he could walk down effectively in the dark. His wings were still exhausted from flying earlier, so…scooting down very carefully it was. For the first time today, he was able to move downwards at a reasonable pace, not having to be careful of random rocks jutting out of the floor or ceiling. He was starting to get a bit excited to leave these caves and be able to see again. The water in the sloth demon’s domain would be perfect for washing all of this blood off of him, and there were few things he loved more than feeling clean. Already, he was starting to realize everything he’d taken for granted in his previous captivity.

He’d taken light for granted, too, and the moment he saw it, the moment he could see at all, he teared up a bit, but that might have just been because it was bright. Navigating the rest of the way down the demon’s body was much easier now that he could see, and it wasn’t long before he was back on solid ground, nearly running towards the cave exit. Finally. 

The dark, starless sky was a welcome sight, almost as beautiful to him as the small pools of water a little ways away. He was lucky this exit dumped him out closer to the water than the entrance he’d originally gone through had been. Curious, Erebus looked down at himself, and couldn’t help but wince in disgust. He was covered from head to toe in blood, most of it dried to a brownish-red, cracking a bit around his joints, little pieces of the demon’s flesh caked on here and there. His hair was sticky and matted with it, and the coppery, still tempting tang of it was all he could smell and taste. He’d never been so revoltingly filthy, and he was secretly glad no one was here to see it. 

It was a quick walk to the nearest pool of water, and while it looked a bit different than the other little pools from before, he paid it no mind. Water was water. He fell to his knees in front of it and stuck his hands in, ready to-HOT! Erebus pulled his hands out of the fiery water, screaming as they burned so intensely he could feel it in his very bones. All he could do was lie on his side and wait for them to heal, tears streaming from his eyes as he wailed. None of the water in the sloth demon’s domain had even been warm, so why was it nearly boiling all of a sudden? Unless he wasn’t…

“You really wanted to make a good first impression on me, didn’t you, intruder?”

Blinking away tears, Erebus looked in the direction of the familiar voice, his blood running cold when he saw who had spoken.

It was Shiori.

Next→

Tags: @dramaticcollapse @thehopelessopus @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @galaxywhump @as-a-matter-of-whump

@mnmlover2002 @tears-and-lilies @yet-another-heathen @rippedjeansandfadeddreams @starnight-whump

@unicornscotty @thebewilderer @kixngiggles @itallstartedwithharry @inky-whump

@redstainedsocks @lonesome--hunter @his-unspoken-words @susiequaz12 @its-mysweetlittlesecret-blog

@whumpasaurus101 @patheticlittleguy @jadeocean46910 @whumpinggrounds @pumpkin-spice-whump

@suspicious-whumping-egg @befuddled-calico-whump @whump-in-the-closet​ @pumpkinsncoffee​ @aryox

[jasontodd-artemisgrace4life]

BATFAM

Ashes and armour

short story

Book Bio:

In Ashes and Armour , the Bat family finds themselves battling not only Gotham’s darkest criminals but the wounds that lie within. Scarred by years of pain, betrayal, and relentless sacrifice, Bruce, Dick, Jason, Tim, Damian, and Barbara struggle to hold together the only family they’ve ever known. But as they confront each other and their own shadows, each must face a truth that cuts deeper than any enemy: not all scars heal, and sometimes, the greatest battles are fought within. In a city where darkness is endless, can they still find light in each other, or are they doomed to fall apart?

Warnings:

This story contains themes of trauma, mental health struggles, violence, complex family dynamics, and emotional distress. Intended for mature readers who are prepared for dark and introspective explorations of pain, loyalty, and the impact of unresolved wounds.

PLAY LIST

The city breathed with a darkness that settled over every building, every alley, every echoing footstep. Gotham was always shrouded, but tonight it felt deeper, as if the city itself mourned. Rain splashed down, casting twisted reflections of the city’s shadows on every surface.

Chapter 1: Silence in the Shadows

Tim Drake was the first to notice something was wrong. A dark, uncomfortable quiet had begun to nestle into their little family. It was subtle—the way Bruce would stare out the window longer, how Jason’s fists would clench at the slightest provocation, how Damian would train in the dead of night until he couldn’t move. Even Dick, their rock, had started to falter.

Their home, Wayne Manor, felt like it was collapsing inward. And the city’s crime sprees hadn’t stopped, forcing each of them to spend longer hours out in the streets, dealing with people whose pain mirrored their own.

Tim slid out of the Manor one night, making his way to an abandoned warehouse near the Narrows. It was a meeting spot he’d used with Jason once, when he’d been younger and more naïve about his place in the family. He needed to talk to him now, but the place was empty. Jason didn’t show up.

It wasn’t until later, when Tim returned to the cave and saw the file on the Batcomputer, that he realized why. Jason had been digging into a new wave of crimes in the city—ones that were hitting closer to home. He’d discovered that Joker had broken out, leaving a trail of messages for each member of the Bat family, but only Tim knew.

Chapter 2: Jagged Edges

Bruce stood in front of the Batcomputer, hands curled into tight fists as he stared at the image of Jason, crumpled in an alley with a spray-painted message on the wall behind him: One family, one failure.

Jason had survived Joker once; he wasn’t supposed to endure this again. It was cruel. An endless cycle. And Bruce’s guilt wrapped itself around his chest, suffocating him. He had taken them all in, one by one, but he couldn’t save them from the war they fought every night.

Damian approached silently, fists clenched, and Bruce noticed how small his son’s shoulders looked beneath his growing strength. “Father,” Damian whispered, a tremor slipping through his voice. “Why can’t we protect each other?”

Bruce didn’t answer. He had no answer. There were too many enemies, too many secrets, too much pain. Every wound Jason bore was etched onto Bruce’s own soul. But the worst part was knowing he couldn’t fix it, not really. Not with all the money or the strength in the world.

Chapter 3: Cracks in the Armor

Dick arrived back at the Manor in the early hours of the morning. He was soaked, his costume clinging to him, blood staining his chest. It was his own, though he barely felt it.

“Bruce,” he managed, eyes hollow. “It’s happening again, isn’t it?”

Bruce nodded, and Dick swallowed back a feeling he hadn’t felt since he was a child. That desperate need to be held, to be told that everything would be okay. But he knew better now. This was Gotham. Happy endings didn’t exist here.

“Jason won’t answer my calls,” Dick muttered, and he hated how vulnerable he sounded. “He’s angry. He thinks we left him alone. But… how do I tell him we didn’t?”

Bruce met his gaze, his own eyes dark, weighed down with the crushing realization of every single failure, every scar and bruise. He wanted to speak, to reassure Dick, but the words got lost somewhere between his thoughts and his lips. How could he promise safety, when he knew it was a lie?

Chapter 4: Cut Deep

When Tim finally found Jason, he was bruised and bloody, leaning against the wall of a rundown building in Crime Alley. The message Joker had left for him was etched deep into his mind. Family only hurts you.

Jason looked up as Tim approached, eyes dark and full of anger. “You came.”

“Of course, I came,” Tim replied softly, stepping forward, unsure if Jason would let him near. The brothers were close, but tonight Jason felt like a stranger, his pain so visible it was raw.

Jason laughed bitterly, his voice cutting through the silence. “You think this family’s worth anything, Tim? It’s all scars and pain, and we just keep trying to fix it with more cuts and bruises. Like we can bleed the hurt out. But it just makes it worse.”

“I know,” Tim whispered, his own voice shaking. “But you’re my brother. That means something to me. We can’t undo the pain, but we don’t have to face it alone.”

Jason closed his eyes, breathing in the cold night air, as the anger faded, leaving behind only the hollow ache of years of loss. He didn’t push Tim away when he reached out, instead letting his brother pull him up, and together they walked out of the shadows.

Chapter 5: Bruises We Can’t Heal

Back at the cave, Bruce gathered them all—Jason, Dick, Tim, Damian, and Barbara—each bearing their own wounds, their own fractured trust. The atmosphere was tense, heavy with the weight of unsaid words.

Bruce cleared his throat, feeling a rare vulnerability as he spoke. “I know I’ve let you down. I’ve taken you into my fight, and it has cost you all.”

Dick was the first to speak, his voice low but steady. “We chose to stand with you, Bruce. We’ve all made choices. But maybe it’s time we face the truth. We keep bleeding, and we keep pretending it’ll heal.”

Bruce’s gaze dropped, and he could feel his heart breaking. For a man as emotionally guarded as Bruce Wayne, this was as raw as he could bear. His family, the only ones he’d ever let close, stood before him, and he saw every bruise he’d left on them, every scar.

Damian took a step forward, defiant but vulnerable. “We’re family,” he said, his voice unwavering. “It doesn’t mean we don’t get hurt. It means we’re in it together.”

The Bat family shared a look, each of them seeing their pain reflected back at them. They were broken, bruised, scarred, but still there. Still holding each other up, in whatever way they could.

Epilogue: Healing the Wounds

In the months that followed, they would each fight their own battles, and their wounds would heal slowly, some never fully. But they would be there, side by side, enduring together.

For in Gotham, pain was inevitable. But in each other, they found a way to survive.

[littlelightbolt]

Finding Prowl- Merformers AU

Chapter 4 - To find reason -

Somewhere in remote Alaskan shores -

With every cycle, the growing unease in Jazz's spark grew a little more. He tried to put on a smile around the others. Tried to enjoy their company in hunting and nesting. But in the quiet moments, just like this one lounging on the beach that sheltered their secret home, Jazz can't help but feel like he should have done more.

It had been 5 cycles since the fight that had bled their home waters red. 5 cycles since Prowl went missing. 5 cycles in which no one had seen tail or hide of Optimus prime. Said mer had shut himself away in his cave. Only Ratchet was allowed into his abode. Whether this seclusion was in shame or respite or neither Jazz didn't care to much pry.

Eyes trained to the far horizon towards the low ball of the sun, Jazz's thoughts returned to that night 5 cycles ago.

Jazz had just gotten off a gig at Maccadam's. Prowl had lost an eye in the fight, body littered in deep gouges, the blood loss must have been severe, yet the daft mer hadn't gone to see Ratchet or any of the other healers in the pod. Instead, the bastard had beached himself on the edge of Jazz's nest. ABOVE WATER. Jazz in the late hour had decided against sending Prowl away, going through the hardship of sealing Prowl's wounds to the best of his ability. Prowl was too delirious to have any sort of meaningful conversation with.

When the deed was done, Jazz had gone to bed with Prowl asleep in the low tide beside him, and as he awoke with the first rays Prowl was gone.

Bleeding and injured, to go into the vast alone was dangerous. One mer however strong was no match against the fullness of the ocean.

Prowl was a prickly mech, snarky as hell but Jazz had never wished ill on him.

During the war, they had their moments. A rescue here, a quick diversion there. They could work together relatively well thoughts aside, saved each other's asses once or twice. A sneaky drink in the night, a secret shared. After the war, Jazz had chosen to stay out of the limelight where Prowl had chose to stay in it. Prowl wanted to try and govern Cybertron their now sleeping world underneath the waves. Above them, out of the political circle, Jazz lived as he always done, on the whims of life's simple pleasures. Maccadams always needed a bassist for performance nights.

The glimpses he caught of Prowl were brief and fleeting but yet he had noticed a change in Prowl. He should have called it sooner.

Prowl had acted like a mer possessed, more controlling, more angry. It had rubbed Jazz in all the wrong ways. Jazz had brushed it off, believing in the petty words of hate that others strung of Prowl.

Now, Jazz wondered why no one else had seen it. The mind control. Living the civy life must have made him rusty. The cycle Prowl went missing, Jazz got to snooping. It seems he had learned the news far too late. Prowl had been changed. Mind raped. Under Megatron's orders. The events of Shockwave's near-successful genocide probably hadn't helped the mer at all. That night of celebrating Cybertron's victory over Shockwave's death was the night of Megatron's plea of pardon. The public resolution of the decepticon pod. The night Optimus struck Prowl.

Jazz ain't got it in him to determine who was more right than wrong. But, Prowl. The image of his face leaking energon, teared fins, the marred eye. Wars over, Jazz had never seen a mer so stricken, PROWL so stricken with hurt and betrayal. Yet Jazz in holding his face to better clean the wound saw that Prowl's gaze still held a flicker of life. A broken mer Prowl may be, but with some help. Jazz truly believed he could get better.

The light of the evening was growing dim. Jazz rose from his spot on the beach. One last moment before he left for the depths beyond.

It has been 5 cycles, and Prowl hasn't returned. No one else seemed to care. No one else seemed bothered to look.

Jazz didn't know why but Prowl came to him for help. He didn't know why he left either. Call it heroism, curiosity, a funny gut feeling even, but Jazz felt like he needed to find out. Prowl had been hurting and is still hurting out there in the vast ocean. Prowl was calling out for help and Jazz was gonna answer.

He was going to find Prowl and bring him home.

Previous

Next

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

Thank you for all the comments! - If anyone asks where Prowl's many scars are - say modern medicine. Or just imagine him more scarred up. Wish i had that kind of derma care.

I'll try my best to write more soon.

[freelanceexorcist]

I mean it when I say I'm done with all things political and I'm no longer watching the news (if something big happens, I'm sure I'll hear about it somehow). So this is my closing argument on that front.

Cut for length.

Those of you who choose to continue to engage will be seeing a lot of blame assignment in the coming days and months. Every pundit will be weighing in with their ill-informed opinion on who's responsible for this. I'll save them the trouble.

Blame the men who hate women more than they love their country or even their own miserable hides. You won't have to look too far to find one of those.

Blame the white women who are desperate to be picked by these men.

Blame the media who spent the whole election cycle sanewashing that demented fucking monster while ignoring the very real accomplishments on the other side.

Blame the shitheads who thought it was safe to sit this one out.

Blame the turncoats on our own side who bayed for Joe Biden's blood because he had a bad night and didn't stop until he caved to them. Nah, scratch that, those people never accept blame for anything.

Blame the foreign-born oligarchs who would rather see the country burn to the ground than pay their fair share to keep it running.

Plenty more where that came from. Plenty of blame to go around.

And here's some advice if you're open to it. If you're not, consider this the end of the post.

*Puts on "old lady who's seen some shit" hat*

If you're terrified of what the future holds, don't live all four years at once (credit for this approach goes to user King Beauregard over at The Establishment Bar). Take each day as it comes. Each hour as it comes. We survived him once and we WILL survive him again unless he starts a nuclear war, in which case there was nothing any of us could have done to stop it anyway. I wouldn't worry about that, though. He's so far gone I doubt he remembers how to tie his own shoes let alone what to do with the nuclear football.

Take care of yourself. This is sacrosanct. Do what makes you happy and soothes your nerves. We have a limited amount of time on this rock, so don't spend it staring at a screen in anticipation of the next horrible thing he will do or say. Ride it out and be kind to yourself in the process. We have four years of positive progress ahead of us and we will go into 2026 and 2028 with strength and resolve.

Don't game out worst-case scenarios or catastrophize. We don't know what's going to happen tomorrow let alone over the next four years. About the only thing that can be confidently speculated upon is that he is very unlikely to survive much longer and will most likely not make it another four years. Yes, then we will be saddled with President JD Vance, First of His Fake Name, but not forever. Mike Pence was a bland husk who made the right patriotic face noises and was the personification of the word “invisible,” but JD is an obvious and glaring creep who is about as appealing as a broken toilet with a deuce left in the bowl and has achieved the near impossible goal of making Ted Cruz seem likable in comparison. He likely won't win a re-election bid as long as the Democratic party chooses the right white man.

Unplug. Dump Twitter and try a service like Bluesky if you want to continue using social media. Distance yourself from any site that's set up to allow engagement farmers to get maximum exposure by pissing off as many people as they can then letting human nature take its course so they can make a few pennies, turning the place into an anxiety-spiking hellscape in the process (looking at you, Twitter, TikTok, Reddit, etc.). Stick to sites that produce content that gives you joy.

If you choose to continue to engage, engage at the local level. Get school board members, mayors, council members and state Representatives elected. Those offices may not seem important, but they absolutely are. They could very well be the firewall between you and the United States of Gilead if the worst were to come to pass. Organize at the local level instead of attending some million-woman march that will almost certainly be co-opted by corporate, political and Hollywood interests who want to look like they give a fuck about you and abandon you once they get their narcissistic supply. A bunch of small fires are a lot harder to put out than one big one.

Don't conflate what happened in other countries with what could happen here. Attempts to break us will be made, but we are not Afghanistan. We are not Iran. We are not Nazi Germany or Franco's Spain. We are not Russia. Whatever may or may not happen here will happen within the framework of the systems we have set up, our current circumstances, our history and our people's resolve. He failed once, and now that he's in obvious cognitive decline, he will likely fail again.

I'm not going to tell you everything will be OK, because I don't know whether it will or not. The future is a huge question mark just as it always has been. But what I will tell you is that how you react to whatever happens is entirely up to you. If you find yourself ruminating, stop and apply the techniques used in cognitive behavior therapy (CBT). Reframe your thoughts in a positive or at least neutral way. Do breathing exercises. I ask you to trust me when I say these things help.

That's about all. We've got this. We didn't think we could survive the first regime, but we did. We've been on this road before and as The Boss sings, nobody's kiddin' nobody about where it goes. It sucks that we've been thrust into it again by people who really should have known better, but you play the card you're dealt. We can do this.

[thethistlegirlwrites]

Unresponsive

Joey flips up the schedule on her clipboard to check the work orders for this building. There’s usually some special requests attached to the cleaning schedules, and tonight is no different. A drink spill in the IT room that left the floor sticky.

“I’ve got the mop duty. You want to deal with the bugs in the light fixtures in the Associate Director’s office?”

“I told him that would go away if he stopped keeping bananas in a bowl on his desk,” Nico mutters. “But yeah.” 

Joey wheels the mop pail down to the janitor closet, adds some tile cleaner solution, and then fills it up partway with the hose attached to the floor-inset sink’s faucet. They’ve been working in this office about a week, and Joey’s already memorized the layout. IT is down the main hall, the third corridor on the left, two doors down. 

She wheels the mop pail down the hall, unlocks the door with the master key on her lanyard, and pushes the bucket and mop inside.

This room is always eerie. There’s 24/7 surveillance monitors up and running, casting a blueish light on everything, the servers hum and occasionally beep threateningly, and the air is always too-warm and stuffy.

She dips her mop into the pail, squeezes out most of the water, and heads for the visibly icky spot on the tiles near workstation 4. 

“Thank goodness. I almost tripped on that when I came in.”

The voice startles her, as does the dark figure in the chair that spins around from station 2. She stops cold. 

“I swear, Connor is the clumsiest person I know. I keep telling everyone he’s going to fry the servers if they let him keep bringing liquids in here, but apparently he needs his Gatorade or his electrolytes and blood sugar go all out of whack. But no, I can’t have coffee in here. Not even if I get caffeine headaches after a couple hours.”

Joey has no idea how to answer that. She just dips her mop into the pail, rinsing off the orange goo, and repeats the wring and scrub. 

“That’s what I like about coming in to work on the servers at night. I can bring my coffee in here and no one can say jack about it.” She hears more than sees him pick up a Thermos and shake it back and forth with a sloshing sound. 

She thinks of the blood in her lunch bag in the van. 

“Oh, come on. It gets lonely on the night shift. You gotta feel the same way.”

Actually, I like the peace and quiet.

“At least they sent in someone cute this time. Last cleaning guy was some skinhead I thought might cave my nose in if I looked at him wrong.” He looks up at her, the blue monitor lights washing his skin out and making him look a bit like a corpse. “Probably some gangbanger on a work release.” 

Don’t do it. No lo hagas. 

He blinks behind his glasses and then frowns. “Oh, wait, I didn’t realize you were Mexican. Probably shouldn’t have said that about gangs, huh. They’re always tearing up your guys’ neighborhoods.” He shrugs. “At least you’ve got a real job and you’re not one of their girls or getting pimped on a street corner, right?”

She can feel the white hot rage bubbling up inside her. Something volcanic. If she loses control, she will kill him.

She sets the mop back in the pail with shaky hands and reaches for her clipboard to cross off ‘IT room drink spill’ from her checklist.

“Hey, like, I wasn’t insulting you. I think it’s great you’re breaking out of that whole cycle. More people should be like you. Maybe if they got jobs they wouldn’t have time to run around shooting up the place and getting high.”

She glances at the photo of her family taped to the clipboard, below the stack of the night’s work orders. You want to see them again. You have to show some restraint. You can’t let anyone think you’re dangerous. If her eval this week goes well, that yellow line on her chart could move to the beginning of next week rather than the middle of it.

But if she shows ‘aggressive tendencies’, it will move down another week and a half. 

“What’s the matter? You don’t speak English? No parley?” He’s butchering it. “Wait a second, is that French? They always sound the same.”

She’s pretty sure, given what she knows about Nico, he’d consider her actions at least partially justified if she slammed this guy right through his own server tower.

She wouldn’t. She’d self-report if she had to, but if she can’t get a grip, can’t lock down this thing simmering in her, fighting to get out, she wouldn’t want herself around anyone she cares about that she can hurt.

The only thing she wants more than seeing her family again is to keep them safe.

And she has a horrible feeling that if she lets this thing free, she might like what it turns her into. 

“Oh come on. Wait. No hobble English? Hey, look at someone when they talk to you!”

A hand on her shoulder spins her around, and Joey clenches her fingers white-knuckled around her mop handle. 

No lo hagas. No…

“Hey, you gotta problem in here?”

Nico. 

“Does your partner here not speak English?”

“Non sono cazzi tuoi.”

“What, you either? How do you people get jobs if you can’t even speak the language?”

A hand slams down on the man’s shoulder with double the force he used on Joey. “I’ve got a better question. How do you still have yours if this is how you talk to people?” Nico’s voice is sharp, snarly. Powerful in a way this IT guy wishes he was, but will never be. 

“I was just being friendly, man!”

Nico’s hand moves up to the man’s shoulder to the junction of his neck. “If you talk to my employee at all, even one word, you will never be able to speak again. Is that clear?”

She never thought she would consider Nico scary. But like this, those cold, dead, steely eyes staring down the other man, he certainly is. 

“You’re bluffing.” But his voice is shaking. 

“We’re a cleaning crew. We could kill you, dispose of your body, clean up the crime scene, and you’d just disappear off the face of the earth.”

His tone is completely level, not an ounce of hesitation or doubt that it’s true. This sounds like a threat Nico’s given before.

“What about the cameras?” The guy says with a triumphant note in his voice, looking past Nico’s shoulder to the array of visuals on a monitor. 

“You’re IT. You shut them off to work on the system and never turned them back on. As a matter of fact, no one is sure why you shut them off and just vanished.”

“Okay, alright, ch-chill, dude. I wasn’t actually gonna do anything to her, I swear.”

“And now I know you won’t. If you’re smart enough to bring up the cameras, that means you should be smart enough to leave.” Nico moves his hand back down the man’s shoulder, then brushes at it as if there was some dust there. “Pack up for the night. Sign out. Go home sick.”

The guy rushes out so fast, he leaves his coffee thermos on the desk.

Nico picks it up, glances at Joey, and then tosses it directly into the trash cart he left near the door, sinking it into the bag in a perfect arc. 

She’s not sure if she wants to laugh at his petty display of anger or collapse into a puddle on the floor just like Connor’s Gatorade.

“If anything like this happens again, you make whatever excuse you have to and come find me.” Nico shakes his head. “People get it all wrong when I say the night shift is better for my people because buildings are empty. It’s less about the vampires hurting humans as it is about how humans still treat us. I didn’t know he was here. I’m sorry you had to deal with that.”

Joey relaxes her hands around the mop handle. “You can’t be with me every second. I’ve dealt with people like him all my life. He won’t be the last.”

Clearly, that wasn’t the right thing to say, because Nico’s eyes go steely all over again. “For the record, the next person who talks to you like that? You can throat-punch them. It won’t affect your performance evaluations.”

Joey chuckles weakly. “I don’t think I want to let that side of me out at all. It’s not who I was before. It’s not who I want to be now.”

“Well, then, anyone who doesn’t respect you answers to me, because after what you just said? I can’t say as I’ve ever respected anybody more than you just gave me a reason to.”

(You can read this story and others from this universe on my WorldAnvil here!)

@catwingsathena @nade2308 @the-one-and-only-valkyrie @telltaleclerk @ettawritesnstudies  @writeouswriter @the-lovely-wren

[iwantoseeafrigatebird]

the orkney trip

part 11 redux

tumblr you suck. my internet is good but you have to stuck at 20% upload eh?

day 9 (continued)

So I walked down towards the beach, crossing the burn, just as I was about to descend the rocky slope I saw this:

It's the skeleton of a red throated diver! I narrowed it down to divers, then checked it against the photos i took of the bird skulls displayed in the Gloup visitor centre and the specimens in the stromness museum (they have a room full of birds taxidermy among other things to my absolute delight)

I took the skull but the rest were interred into the bothy window to carry on the tradition. Leave no trace but the bones you found.

the skull and its pretty shadow on the bothy's doorframe in the golden hour.

So I thought, I should boil the eggs I brought all the way from Kirkwall behind the house, shielded from the wind. That's when I met Robbie the Irish guy from Dublin, who was cycling around scotland after getting the idea from seeing peopole cycling south america, just got down from Shetland and was now heading to Ullapool. Although there were two other big groups there (one group of young people and another group in their 50s on motorcycles who just came up from Ullapool), only Robbie and I decided to sleep in the bothy. We got a fire going for a while and had some warmth in the evening, although we couldn't find an axe to chop the rest of the firewood (i suspect that the warden took it to stop people from turning the chairs and tables into firewood).

That's the big group. One of their stove was so powerful, it resembled a little bonfire and transformed the cottage into a paleonithic cave filled with firelight and shadows of its inhabitans dancing on cold stone walls. The situation had stalker vibes I thought. The roof leaks but thankfully there wasn't any rain that night. Although there was a hole in the wall near my head that was stuffed with paper and I slept in my boots, it was comfortable enough. Nice to have a roof over my head.

-

day 10

Robbie got up early to run to see the Old Man, and we got on the morning ferry. On that ferry were Robbie, me, the american couple, two tourists who kept to themselves, Tom Attah a blues musician and professor at Leeds Arts uni who is here to perform at the Orkney Blues Festival, and Malcolm from Hoy, clawhammer banjo player who shares my love of american old time music.

The american man got to talking with them (he was affable and friendly, talking to everyone he met as if we were sandbox npcs *affectionate"). I don't talk unless no one does (one of the reason I like traveling alone, because if I'm with someone else I will let them do all the talking unless they are keeping silent as well, which annoyed the hell out of a past friend), so I just listened in. That Sunday was the last day of the Orkney Blues festival, and there were going to be free music events all afternoon and in the evening there would be a finale concert. Of course I simply had to go. I only had the museum on my list that day anyhow.

Stromness museum features whaling, seafaring, exploratiom (supposedly the first european to be buried in Australia was an Orcadian), the hudson bay company, the franklin expedition (the last british soil they set foot on was here, Franklin was entertained ashore, they got their water from the Login's well), and of course, John Rae. His fiddle was here, all restored, somewhere in the museum was another fiddle made of tin by a herring trawler blacksmith after losing his fiddle at sea. The two were played together at one time.

A game we should play.

Hudson bay company recruitment poster.

James Fitzjames' name made a surprise appearance written on the stern of this Cloth Boat here that should've accompanied John Rae on his expedition but never made it.

Login's well. This is why Stromness is the final stop, it is pilgrimage to me.

And yes I did talked to the poor Irish guy about John Rae, the Franklin expedition and the Terror. It simply had to be done and we were standing right under the statue of John Rae near the piers, if not then, when?

(tbc)

[i-miss-breathing]

My dream is to have a huge spiky gothic style castle where I section it off and each section has wildly different over the top aesthetic decor than the one before it.

Like the first section, where you walk in is super normal, just average house decor, it’s a living room and some guest rooms, very normal, the only thing weird here is that the carpet is orange and the walls have floral wallpaper from the 50s. Then, you walk fown a hall and BAM. Everything is ocean themed.

There’s a huge mural on one wall that makes it look like your in a bubble window underwater with all sorts of fish.

A bubble machine and ocean sound machine are going at all times. Sometimes you hear “yellow submarine” by the beetles playing

theres a tv that shows live footage of a reef and there’s a big saltwater aquarium on another section.

All the creatures have names, some of the rocks even have names, there’s a key on the side with all the names and what kind of creature/rock it is.

My cool butler takes care of them, he’s paid very well and has like 90 paid vacation days, when he’s on vacation I take care of the fish, he reminds me sometimes over text, and then reminds me that looking at water is not the same as drinking it and that I need to stay hydrated, he also tells me things about his vacations, like which foods I should ask the chef to make, or learn to make myself, like I said he’s very cool, anyways, off topic,

The next section is COMPLETELY GOTH.

You’ve stepped out of the submarine and into the vampires cave.

There are little bats and spiders and cats and ravens and crows EVERYWHERE. ITS AWESOME.

I have a pet raven in a room, her name is Lenore, she likes to sit on my shoulder, I take her to other parts of the house sometimes, she’s very smart.

There’s also my pet tarantula fiddlesticks, fiddle for short, I take him out of his enclosure sometimes but he doesn’t leave the goth section.

Speaking of the goth section, everything is red purple blue white and black, mostly black.

There’s goth music playing at all times, there’s a ballroom that I use to host goth club nights, it’s a castle after all, there’s a big French door that leads directly to the ballroom from the garden. It’s very cool.

Just when you think you’ll never escape the darkness and ungodly amount of moon cycles on the wall, you see a light.. BAM MAGIC FOREST.

Everything is green and orangish brown.and pastel

There’s fairy lights EVERYWHERE.

I keep my pet ponies Shorty and Sprinkles and my guard llama Dude, in a large closed off pasture near the garden, they get lots of apples and sugar cubes and hay along with all the yummy grass they graze on, you cannot ride any of them because they are too small, but I play with them everyday and teach them tricks every once in a while.

Back inside there are plants everywhere

there’s sparkles everywhere

There are bean bags that look like rocks and a bookcase that looks like it was built into a fake tree

there’s a little snack bar with cupcakes and rock candies and brownies and carrot cakes and pies and water and fruit flavored sodas and fun pastries.

Chef makes the snacks, Chef is cool, he’s really strong, I pay him a lot of money and he also has 90 days paid vacation a year, he mostly texts me recipes to ask if I think I’d like them. Chef also likes weed, he never makes weed brownies on the clock though. He’s very responsible.

I hire college students from the college near by at $25 an hour to run the fairy snack bar.

I host lots of parties here, parents can call and ask to rent it out for fairy themed birthday parties in a real life castle, of course it’s only a section of the castle, but it’s still a castle.

there’s another French door entrance but the glass has floral stained glass, it’s professionally done, it’s very pretty

There’s a dressing room with lots of outfits and dresses and they all look magical and they come in many different sizes, they are all thoroughly washed properly after each use by my maid. She’s really cool, she knows how to do a lot of stuff. Like Brazilian Jiu Jitsu, and race car driving, and knitting. She also gets paid very well and has 90 paid vacation days, I have a squish on her and she’s very inspiring, she teaches me the skills if I ask. She’s very cool. I text her pictures of things I make and she gives me encouragement. All my staff get along very well and it makes me happy. We have tea time and dinner together, it’s great.

And back to the fairy section there’s another ball room covered in fairy lights and plants, real and fake, there’s a DJ that takes all requests but otherwise plays music directly from ballroom scenes in fantasy movies and shows. He also gets paid well.

It’s very cool

I will add to this later but right now I do not have time

[bluemoonfantasiesiii]

SumeruBedo Voice Lines

(Some of these are the same as his canon voice lines)

Hello

I am Dhaval, Forest Advisor of the Avidya Forest. You carry the aura of the stars, interesting... I would like to study you, if you do not mind. I'm certain we will have many opportunities to be alone in the future.

Chat: Still Life

What a view... How about a quick break so I can sketch this beautiful scenery?

Chat: Investigation

“The truth of this world"... *sigh* What could it be?

Chat: Reminiscing

Going out into the world and investigating, turning the "unknown" into the "known." ...Ahhh, I missed this feeling.

When It Rains

Thankfully I had the foresight to waterproof both the paper and the ink I use to take notes.

When Thunder Strikes

We should seek shelter. If I recall, there’s an adequate cave system nearby.

When It Snows

Mother…

When the Sun is Out

Ample light... active biological organisms... Yes, this is a good place to sketch.

When it’s Windy

Let my quickly bind my notes so they don’t blow away.

In the Desert

I’ve crafted some pendants using the stamens of mist flowers to keep us cool during the day, and flaming flowers to keep us warm at night.

Good Morning

Good morning. Are we going to search for unusual flora today?

Good Afternoon

Good afternoon. I was just about to survey the surrounding area for any abnormalities that may need to be investigated. Care to join me?

Good Evening

The sunset bathes everything in a soft, pink glow. It makes a perfect backdrop for a painting.

Good Night

The crickets and frogs have begun their nightly serenade, and the fireflies are like tiny lanterns dancing over the water. The forest truly comes alive at night.

About Dhaval: Genius

Genius? ...A number of people call me that. But I don't think I'm any "genius."

About Dhaval: Socializing

Relationships are... quite troublesome. Once you establish a relation with someone, you must continue to maintain it; if you lose contact, you must reestablish the relation. This taxing cycle requires a lot of time...

About Us: Experiments

You... want to accompany me while I experiment? I'm honored.

My experiments are sometimes dangerous, but I will do my utmost to ensure your safety. I’ve already prepared for every possible contingency.

About Us: Perennial

Although I try to be prepared for everything, there’s no secret formula for bonding with someone. You are someone I can now proudly call a friend. It is now up to us to decide whether our friendship is a delicate rose or a perennial peony.

About the Vision

My Vision? Ah, that's nothing more than a tool to aid in my experiments, no different from a beaker or crucible. The one thing about it that really intrigues me is the principle behind how it works... One day, I will uncover its secrets, it's only a matter of time.

Something to Share

There's something I've always wanted to ask you, but feared rejection and disappointment...

Eh-hem... I am very interested in your little floating companion. May I borrow her to investigate for a short while?

Interesting Things

Most of the fauna in the Avidya Forest is edible with proper preparation. Even the large spiders that live near the roots of certain trees. If you tie one up in cape jasmine and lemongrass and sprinkle on some cardamom, smoke it for a few hours — you get a fragrant taste that's simply... unforgettable.

About Family

Family? when I think of the idea of "family," my old master comes to mind first. My earliest memories in life are of going on adventures with her. She taught me the art of alchemy and much knowledge about the world. However, the bonds that I’ve forged in the Avidya Forest with the likes of Collei and Watcher Tighnari feel much more meaningful to me now.

About Tighnari: Assistant

As Watcher Tighnari’s right hand, it’s my duty to make sure he stays on track with his patrols and meets deadlines with any paperwork that lands on his desk. I certainly wouldn’t describe him as lazy, but he does tend to get swept up in the lax atmosphere of the forest sometimes. I occasionally catch him napping in a tree.

About Tighnari: Aid

Have you ever heard the phrase “doctors make the worst patients?” Watcher Tighnari is the perfect example. Because of his medical expertise, convincing him to let somebody else treat him when he’s the one in need of care is like pulling teeth. He puts up a bit less of a fuss when I’m the one offering aid since we know each other so well, but even then it’s still a struggle.

About Collei

I arrived in the Avidya Forest shortly after her. I quickly got a feel for her boundaries, and stopped using words like “experiment” and “test subject” around her for a while. Her aversion to physical touch was never an issue, since I’m not a very touchy person myself, but I’m glad to see she’s more comfortable with certain people now.

I sometimes take over her literacy lessons as well. She’s been making significant progress. I’m proud of her.

About Cyno

He takes his duties as General Mahamatra very seriously, and many people find him intimidating because of that. But when he’s not in work mode, he actually makes for pleasant company. His sense of humor is unique, and I find his jokes entertaining.

About Nilou

I occasionally collaborate with Zubayr Theatre to help them work on set pieces and props. Despite being a performer, Nilou always watches me with an intense fascination, as she wants to be familiar with every aspect of the stage. She’s even asked me to teach her a few things. I find such dedication to her chosen field to be very admirable. She’s a joy to work with.

About Alhaitham

Having the ability to operate without being influenced by emotion doesn’t sound entirely healthy… Even for as deadpan as I can be, I still listen to my heart every now and then. I would love an opportunity to pick his brain and figure out how he does it.

About Kaveh

I admire his work as a fellow artist, but sometimes he can get a bit too caught up in his feelings. I suppose in that regard, he’s more of a stereotypical artist than I am.

About Lesser Lord Kusanali

While I wouldn’t consider myself a man of strong faith, I can truthfully say that I respect Lesser Lord Kusanali. I’ve always found boundless intellect and boundless humility to be a commendable combination.

About Lisa

I heard her name a few times while I was enrolled in the Spantamad Darshan. As much as I would like to talk about wasted potential, I suppose I ended up doing the same thing as her…

About Faruzan

She loves bringing me complex puzzles that she designs in an attempt to stump me. I don’t have the heart to tell her that her puzzles are children’s toys compared to the labyrinths I used to explore with my mother…

More About Dhaval I

Have a question for me? Go ahead, ask. It doesn't take too long to ask a single question, does it? I'm about to begin the final stage of an experiment...

More About Dhaval II

Oh, by the way. Did you know that without human manipulation, you would need to harness the power of a sun eight times the size of our own in order to naturally create gold?

More About Dhaval III

What do I do besides sketching and research...? I will often go for casual strolls around the rainforest, just to take in the different species of flora and fauna. They never fail to provide me with unexpected inspirations for my own creations, no matter how many times I see them.

More About Dhaval IV

I was originally sent to the Akademiya to see what they knew of alchemy. It quickly became apparent that the Spantamad Darshan had nothing of value to offer me. My mother’s teachings were much more extensive, and I found myself growing bored there.

More About Dhaval V

Even though “Dhaval” started as an alias to better fit in with the people of Sumeru, it feels… more right than the name my mother gave me. More like myself. In fact, the rainforest feels more like home than anywhere I stayed with my mother. I feel like I truly have a family in Avidya.

Dhaval’s Hobbies

Hmm... Besides research and contingency planning, the activity I spend most of my time on is probably sketching. At first I saw it simply as a way to better study the structure of living things and materials so as to aid me in my experiments, but it eventually became a hobby of mine. Indeed, it is a very good way to relax.

Dhaval’s Troubles

Although I try to have a plan for everything, there are some things one simply can’t be prepared for. I have yet to encounter a setback I couldn’t recover from, but it is still obnoxious…

Favorite Food

I really do enjoy having dessert. How can I put it...? When both physical and mental capacity are spent, high-energy materials further provide a kind of primordial, highly-effective boost.

Least Favorite Food

What food do I dislike? ...Large portions of meat at restaurants. I have a rather small appetite, so a meal like that only ends up in tragedy — either I overeat and the joy of the taste is lost, or I don't finish it and the food is wasted. I decided to simply not go to restaurants. Thankfully we Forest Rangers conduct our meals buffet style, so I can usually dictate my own portions.

Receiving a Gift I

If flavors were colors... this one would be gold.

Receiving a Gift II

You're willing to spend so much time on improving your cooking, and that's precisely how you're able to make it taste so good.

Receiving a Gift III

This is more than I can manage... maybe we could split it between us?

Birthday

Happy birthday. You look especially happy, would you mind if I sketched you? The capacity of our brains is limited, so we are bound to forget things. But when an image is transferred onto paper or canvas, the sketch becomes an extension of our memory. We can remember that past feeling when we later look at the sketch.

Feelings About Ascension: Intro

Nigredo is the first step in alchemy, drawing from primordial forms. As beings who live in this world, we must find our own meaning.

Feelings About Ascension: Building Up

Albedo is the step in which change begins. Clearing away the excess so we can take on all the knowledge that is available. Would you like to investigate this world with me?

Feelings About Ascension: Climax

Rubedo in alchemy refers to the refining of feeling. I feel the refining of my own emotions is also thanks to you.

Feelings About Ascension: Conclusion

Citrinitas is the final stage of the alchemical transmutation process. The meaning of the object being transmuted has finally been brought to light, becoming gold and revealing its true value... I too have found my own meaning.

Elemental Skill

Blossom.

Bloom!

Come into being.

Elemental Burst

Soil, heed my call!

Feel this ancient power.

Are you prepared?

Opening Treasure Chest

Let me quickly take inventory.

Who leaves things like this out in the wilderness…?

Quite the fortunate find.

Low HP

Time for Plan B.

I wasn’t prepared for this.

A new strategy’s required.

Ally at Low HP

I’ll take over from here.

This is too dangerous for you.

Fallen

Ashes to ashes, dust to dust…

The soil…is calling me…

Seems my research…is over…

Light Hit Taken

Still within my threshold.

Heavy Hit Taken

A miscalculation.

Joining Party

Ready to go.

Some in-the-field research?

Let’s investigate this further.

[roman-catholic-mass-readings]

13th August >> Mass Readings (Except USA)

(Nineteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time, Cycle A

Liturgical Colour: Green: A (1))

First Reading 1 Kings 19:9,11-13 The Lord was not in the wind, or the earthquake, or the fire.

When Elijah reached Horeb, the mountain of God, he went into the cave and spent the night in it. Then he was told, ‘Go out and stand on the mountain before the Lord.’ Then the Lord himself went by. There came a mighty wind, so strong it tore the mountains and shattered the rocks before the Lord. But the Lord was not in the wind. After the wind came an earthquake. But the Lord was not in the earthquake. After the earthquake came a fire. But the Lord was not in the fire. And after the fire there came the sound of a gentle breeze. And when Elijah heard this, he covered his face with his cloak and went out and stood at the entrance of the cave.

The Word of the Lord

R/ Thanks be to God.

Responsorial Psalm Psalm 84(85):9-14

R/ Let us see, O Lord, your mercy, and give us your saving help.

I will hear what the Lord God has to say, a voice that speaks of peace. His help is near for those who fear him and his glory will dwell in our land.

R/ Let us see, O Lord, your mercy, and give us your saving help.

Mercy and faithfulness have met; justice and peace have embraced. Faithfulness shall spring from the earth and justice look down from heaven.

R/ Let us see, O Lord, your mercy, and give us your saving help.

The Lord will make us prosper and our earth shall yield its fruit. Justice shall march before him and peace shall follow his steps.

R/ Let us see, O Lord, your mercy, and give us your saving help.

Second Reading Romans 9:1-5 I would willingly be condemned if it could help my brothers.

What I want to say now is no pretence; I say it in union with Christ – it is the truth – my conscience in union with the Holy Spirit assures me of it too. What I want to say is this: my sorrow is so great, my mental anguish so endless, I would willingly be condemned and be cut off from Christ if it could help my brothers of Israel, my own flesh and blood. They were adopted as sons, they were given the glory and the covenants; the Law and the ritual were drawn up for them, and the promises were made to them. They are descended from the patriarchs and from their flesh and blood came Christ who is above all, God for ever blessed! Amen.

The Word of the Lord

R/ Thanks be to God.

Gospel Acclamation cf. Luke 19:38,2:14

Alleluia, alleluia! Blessings on the King who comes, in the name of the Lord! Peace in heaven and glory in the highest heavens! Alleluia!

Or: cf. Psalm 129:5

Alleluia, alleluia! My soul is waiting for the Lord, I count on his word. Alleluia!

Gospel Matthew 14:22-33 Jesus walks on the water.

Jesus made the disciples get into the boat and go on ahead to the other side while he would send the crowds away. After sending the crowds away he went up into the hills by himself to pray. When evening came, he was there alone, while the boat, by now far out on the lake, was battling with a heavy sea, for there was a head-wind. In the fourth watch of the night he went towards them, walking on the lake, and when the disciples saw him walking on the lake they were terrified. ‘It is a ghost’ they said, and cried out in fear. But at once Jesus called out to them, saying, ‘Courage! It is I! Do not be afraid.’ It was Peter who answered. ‘Lord,’ he said ‘if it is you, tell me to come to you across the water.’ ‘Come’ said Jesus. Then Peter got out of the boat and started walking towards Jesus across the water, but as soon as he felt the force of the wind, he took fright and began to sink. ‘Lord! Save me!’ he cried. Jesus put out his hand at once and held him. ‘Man of little faith,’ he said ‘why did you doubt?’ And as they got into the boat the wind dropped. The men in the boat bowed down before him and said, ‘Truly, you are the Son of God.’

The Gospel of the Lord

R/ Praise to you, Lord Jesus Christ.

[pyrookami]

Demon's Run 4

Night will fall and dark will rise

When a good man goes to war

The deep dwellers had never needed to come up with a name for their people. If pushed to describe their race, you may get a physical description of the blind tunnelers from the dark system’s only habitable planet. Or you may get a description of their lives in the dark rock tunnels of their home planet where the surface was completely unlivable for anything beyond the extremophile lichen coating the surface in a layer of yellow. Despite having a vocal language as their primary form of communication and using their voices to penetrate the rocks and tell where the edible organic matter may be, the deep dwellers lack a refined vocabulary for a sentient race. And yet sentient they are. Somehow the deep dwellers know about the silent ones and their ways. Due to the proximity of the dark system to the cradle world of the silent ones, the deep dwellers have set up hidden sensor arrays to track the coming and going of their feared neighbor.

In addition to the surface becoming a giant liste3ning post for these strange creatures, they have managed to launch a single advanced satellite. In is unknown if the silent ones know of the satellite, but if they do, they have not acted upon its presence or its purpose. Anytime radio waves are detected by the sensors of the deep dwellers an emergency signal is sent from their satellite. It is a single word in just about every language known so far as the galaxy is concerned. And it is both warning and command to attempt to help others survive the silent one’s hatred for other sentients. Or and attempt to keep others from suffering from the hunger of the silent ones.

“Silence!”

For thousands of years the deep dwellers have sent that message to any foolish enough to announce their presence in the void. After that message they never heard anything more from the same races who originally sent out their calls to the black of space. Sadly, just about every time the sensors detected a call asking if they were alone in the universe the silent ones would immediately move into action. For a millennium the deep ones lived hidden, fearing what the silent ones would do if they discovered sentient prey so close. For a millennium they sent their warning hoping to save a race.

Thrum sat coiled in his den. He had spent all his hunting cycle near the mantle, while he normally didn’t mind the heat his hunting grounds seemed to grow hotter by the cycle. With a shiver down his body, he reached a manipulator to his entertainment node and the soothing vibrations of his people’s music helped him relax after a long day. Thrum was starting to fall asleep to his node’s rhythmic sounds when the rhythm was cut off and replaced with the emergency whistle. Instantly Thrum was awake and moving through his den grabbing his emergency tools listening to what the emergency may be. A cave in? an eruption? A tectonic shift? When the voice coalesced into understandable words the tools dropped from thrum’s manipulators.

“Sensors report all silent one vessels in their cradle system are moving and seem to be heading towards a new source of radio waves. Despite the usual warning from the fore warner satellite the radio waves continue broadcasting in a yet undeciphered language. This unprecedented news comes to us mere galactic moments with receiving a directed response from the original broadcasters to the silent one’s usual response to radio waves. I am hearing now our computers are finishing up the translation of the different broadcasts. Now these are not necessarily in order of being received but order of translation ease.

‘We Await!’

‘We will not be silent!’

‘To hostile species we will show no mercy!’

‘Never forget you started this, and now we will end it!’

‘This is the Sol alliance identify yourselves incoming vessels!’

‘This is a noncombatant vessel requesting assistance we have children on board, repeat this is the T.S.S. Mrs. Frizzle, we have taken fire from an unknown vessel and are venting atmosphere, any nearby craft please we request assistance….’”

Each broadcast made less sense to thrum but one thing was for sure, whatever this race was they had drawn the ire of the silent ones like no race had in all the deep dweller’s recorded history. Thrum sadly lowered his body to the rock and hummed a prayer to the core that they at least have the mercy of a quick end.