#i will update inked soldiers

[m1ckeyb3rry]

I really don't want to be annoying but when is the next glass princess update coming?

Have a nice day btw 💕💓

it’ll come once i write it

[zepskies]

Break Me Down - Part 2

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x Female Reader

Summary: You’re a private investigator by trade, but now you happily sit at a desk — leading a surveillance team at Supe Affairs. After managing to end Homelander in New York, Soldier Boy escapes custody. You are recruited for the manhunt, joining Butcher’s team.

Truly, you joined the S.A. for the right reasons. But after you become his accidental hostage, Soldier Boy will break down every single one of them…

💚 Break Me Down Masterlist

AN: Surprise Sunday update! I was able to put the finishing touches on Part 2 a bit early. 😉

Song used in this chapter is “If I Didn’t Care” by The Ink Spots (but more like Amy Adams' version). Song inspiration for this chapter (and the song title) is “All My Livin Time” by Radio Company (Jensen’s band with Steve Carlson).

Word Count: 4,500 Warnings: 18+ only! Willful seduction, kidnapping, SB being himself lol.

Part 2: You Move Me, Baby

This next mission was going to be a bit more…hands on. 

It was a gentlemen’s club, styled like a 1920s speakeasy, of all things. If nothing else, Soldier Boy was predictable.

Through a crack in the dressing room door, you didn’t see any gentlemen here. You saw a bunch of skeevy bastards. 

For the record, you didn’t like this plan. But as Butcher once again pointed out, Soldier Boy’s less likely to fuckin’ recognize you than any of us. 

And you certainly couldn’t (wouldn’t) imagine Butcher in rhinestone nipple tassels. 

Right now, you were waiting to be assigned an outfit. Hopefully, you could just blend into the background of whatever performance act the stage manager wanted to slip you into. And you really hoped you wouldn’t have to striptease on stage.

In the meantime, you sat on a stool in a black lace bra, matching panties, and sheer pantyhose, while Annie was helping you with your stage makeup. Years as a pageant child had taught her well. You felt like Sandra Bullock in Miss Congeniality, fending off getting hairspray up her ass. 

Sure, you had gone undercover several times, but this was slightly out of your wheelhouse. You bit your lip, forgetting that you were already wearing several coats of scarlet red lipstick. 

Annie slapped your hand. “Stop it. You’re smudging my paint job.”

You had Butcher and M.M. to thank for arranging this little detail. 

May they both rot in hell, you silently simmered. 

“Oh, stop pouting. You look great,” Annie said. You caught the little smirk she was trying to taper down. 

Then the manager’s head popped into the dressing room. When he verified that all the young women had at least their underwear on, he stepped inside and shut the door behind him.

“All right, listen up,” he said in Spanish. You understood just enough to follow what he was saying. “Angelica got food poisoning.”

You grimaced. Angelica was the main act. She had a whole burlesque-style routine with the rest of the women—for which you were meant to step in for one of the girls in the ensemble. Hopefully in the back. 

“Daniela, you’re filling in,” said the manager, pointing to a busty brunette. 

“What about the second act?” asked another girl. If you remembered right, her name was Raquel. “Dani can’t sing like Angelica to save her fucking life.”

“Excuse me, bitch. I sing better than you,” Daniela snapped back.

The manager rolled his eyes and clapped his hands harshly to end the bickering. 

“Okay. Which one of you bitches can actually sing?” he asked, first in Spanish, then in English, you noticed as he glanced at you.

Annie looked at you with raised brows. You glared back at her. 

Damn you for telling her about your childhood church choir days. You were sure your religious mother never thought you’d be using those talents like this.  

“No,” you said firmly. Annie just smiled and waved the manager over.

That was how the two of them ended up all but pushing you on stage—after Annie had wrangled you into a shimmering red gown over your underwear and pantyhose. It was overlayed with delicate beading in intricate patterns. And it was easily the most beautiful thing you’d ever had on your body.

However, you did take issue with how long the slit was, running all the way up to your hip bone.

Not really ‘20s style, now is it? you thought sourly.

Annie just slapped your ass and guided you forward.

You shot back one last look at her—one that swore you’d have your revenge.

Then the curtain slid open. 

Fuck me, you thought nervously. This was really happening!

The lights blinded you for a moment, and you blinked the glare out of your eyes. They soon adjusted as you forced yourself to move towards the microphone at the right-hand side of the stage, close to the live band. The pianist shot you a smile and a wink as he started to play in dulcet tones.

Steeling yourself, you grabbed the microphone with a slight tremor in your hands. You stared out into the crowd as the rest of the band joined in, slow and jazzy. 

You’d informed the manager that you really only knew one song by heart.

“Eh, that is too slow,” he’d replied to you in English.

“It’s that, or Dani belts out in her best soprano,” you informed him. He sighed and waved a resigned hand. 

“Get her the red one,” he told Raquel. She then handed you the dress on a hanger. 

Now, you held the microphone between both hands and started the song your grandmother used to sing to you when you were a kid.

“If I didn’t care, more than words can say,” you began. “If I didn’t care, would I feel this way?”

You took in an unsteady breath. With each note, your voice was getting stronger, more confident. 

“If this isn’t love, then why do I thrill? And what makes my head go round and round, while my heart…stands…still…”

As you eased into the rest of the song, you remembered your mission. 

You scanned the dark room, rows of men of all ages, women serving drinks and food and their own bodies. You weren’t finding your target.

But this intel was good. The source was the girl you’d replaced in the show, and M.M. had already worked out her safe exit out of the city for a while. 

There. You finally saw it. 

Or rather, you saw him.

Towards the back, Soldier Boy sat at a large exclusive booth. He had a long joint propped between his fingers, and a working woman from the club already propositioning to service him. Her manicured hand eased down his chest. 

He also seemed to have hired men sitting at a table nearby. 

Your voice nearly hitched at the sight of him, but you forced yourself to take a calming breath during a musical interlude. 

You knew Annie and the rest of the team were here in the club somewhere, to back you up. But Soldier Boy knew Butcher and his team were onto him. the bastard would recognize them. You were the distraction here.

And if he went away with that escort, he could easily disappear upstairs and hop out the window again, gone like a coil of weed smoke.

Somehow, you needed to keep his ass in his seat.

So your voice came back in strong for the final verse.

“If I didn’t care, would it be the same? Would my every prayer begin and end…with just your name?” 

You watched Soldier Boy’s gaze drift toward the stage. Your lips curved as you held his eyes for a moment…but then, you coyly slid your gaze away. 

Okay, what’s going to grab his attention…

You shifted on the stage, letting the curve of your hip and ass sway to one side. You raised your other foot on the tips of your toes. And the slit running up your leg slid open, revealing your tall silver heels and a smooth leg, all the way up to the inside of your thigh.  

Unfortunately, you hadn’t been able to fit your gun holster this time.

“And would I be sure that this is love beyond compare…” Your voice rang out on the high note; at that climactic point, the music reached a crescendo.

You turned your head and looked directly into Soldier Boy’s eyes, and his mouth slid into a grin. 

He was watching you. 

Good.

“Would all this be true,” you sang, “if I didn’t care for you…”

As the final notes reverberated from the piano, applause and male whoops erupted from the crowd. 

You slowly released the microphone, breaking off eye contact with your target. 

Then you turned around, trying to hide the nervous tremor in your legs. You pressed a discreet hand to the communicator in your ear after the curtain fell behind you, and you told the team. 

“He’s here.” 

Annie was no longer backstage. 

“Good job, crooner,” M.M. said on the comm. 

“Watch him ‘til he’s ready to leave,” Butcher said to everyone.

You agreed and dodged the manager so you could slip to the back room within the dressing room. 

You were about to change into your real clothes (and grab your gun), when you were stopped by a Latino man. Though he clearly wasn’t a local or a tourist. He looked ex-military, complete with a crew cut and dark beard. 

“Soldier Boy would like to meet you,” he said in lightly accented English. You affected some doe-eyed shock, even though some of your surprise was genuine. 

You’d just wanted to keep him watching the show. You hadn’t expected him to take the bait this much. 

“Oh, wow…where? Now?” you asked.

“Now,” he confirmed. “Upstairs.”

He couldn’t even pick me up himself? Lazy, you wanted to tsk.

You spied the stage manager over by the doorway. He gave you a stern nod that told you that you had no choice but to accept. 

Not that you ever intended to decline. Though of fucking course the manager had known Soldier Boy was here. He was probably a damn regular. 

You gave Soldier Boy’s man a charming smile. “Lead the way.”

This wasn’t the plan, exactly. You decided it was even better though. Just infinitely more dangerous. 

Even though you had years of training, honing your body and your mind in a fight, you weren’t a supe. You were, in fact, exceedingly breakable.

“Are you crazy, cherie?” Frenchie said on the comm. 

You also thought you heard M.M. mutter an, “Aw shit.”

“She don’t got a choice now,” Butcher said. “But it’s a good play to get him alone. Slip her one of them hockey pucks.”

You heard M.M., Annie, Butcher, and Frenchie’s continued twittering back and forth about the change of plan. Meanwhile, you were being escorted upstairs.

Kimiko managed to maneuver into your path from the opposite direction, and she slipped a small disk into your hand as she passed you. 

You gave her a grateful wink and discreetly placed the device into your bra while your escort wasn’t looking. 

It wasn’t a dose of Novichok, but it was something that might keep Soldier Boy occupied for a moment. You intended to use it if he got too fucking handsy.

You were let into a room on the third floor. With the lavish way it was furnished, complete with a king-sized bed, it almost looked like a hotel room. 

Yeah, Hotel California, you thought wryly, as the door shut behind you. 

Soldier Boy sat at a table by the far wall, gazing out the window with yet another joint (or perhaps the same one?) and a generous pour of whiskey in his hand. 

Even you could admit, he cut an attractive figure. He was dressed in light brown slacks, a matching suit jacket and a white dress shirt with the top buttons left open. A simple ensemble, but well-tailored and suited to the golden tan he’d developed here in South America. His beard was neatly trimmed, his short hair styled back in its familiar sweep on both sides. 

Even seated, his posture was casual, yet controlled as his head turned to meet your gaze. A smile started to curve his lips. 

Show time, you told yourself. 

“You’re new,” he said. You tilted your head, a bit of flirtation in your smile.

“What makes you say that?” you asked.

He gave you an oh please look. With the hand that held his whiskey, he gestured with a curling finger. 

“Come ‘ere. Don’t be shy,” he said. It was an order rather than a request, but you hid your instinctive annoyance.

You subtly took in a steadying breath. And you moved farther into the room. You didn’t stop until you were sitting opposite him at the window, crossing your legs beneath the table. 

You could tell he’d expected you to take a seat in his lap, but to a degree, you didn’t want to do what he expected. He was likely paying the club well for this time. You didn’t want to make it easy.

You wanted him to be enticed. Invested in this moment. 

And distracted, for as long as he let you. 

You watched him glance down with interest at your bare leg peeking out. At your strappy silver heel shining along with your dress in the soft lamplight, which casted shadows across his profile. 

“Want a drink?” he asked. 

You were surprised he was offering you anything. You’d half-expected him to order you onto your knees already. Upon which, he would’ve received the gift currently residing in your bra a bit early. 

You didn't want to take any drink you hadn't poured yourself, but you also needed to keep this act going...

"I'm not gonna fucking drug you," he said, reading the look in your eyes. "What would be the fucking point of that?"

Hmph. smart-ass motherfucker, you thought. But you didn't detect a lie.

You quirked your head and took the proffered sip from his glass. You wanted to play it cool, but maybe you also needed a little liquid courage. 

“All right, easy on the booze. Get his guard down,” Butcher said in your ear. You resisted the urge to frown.

Could Butcher see you somehow too? Or was he just hearing the ice clinking in the glass as you gulped it down. 

“Did you enjoy my performance?” you asked Soldier Boy.

“Still am, doll face,” he said with a smirk. You raised a brow. 

“I’m not that new,” you replied, biting indelicately on a dark cherry. Your heeled foot slowly slid against the inside of his thigh. 

It was his turn to raise brow. His head tilted with his smirk. 

You didn’t know if he was more amused than turned on, but his gaze roamed openly over your legs, the cleavage on display, your dark red lips. 

“Are you enjoying your stay in Medellin?” you asked, trying to keep the conversation going. 

“Oh, yeah. I’m having a fuckin’ ball,” he said wryly. He dabbed some ash off his blunt with a finger. 

There was something off there, and you didn’t miss it.

“You sound bored,” you said. Soldier Boy considered you with a lustful, challenging gaze. 

“Maybe. You gonna help me with that, sweetheart?”

A flutter of nerves churned in your belly, but you used it, letting the feeling prickle awareness across your skin. 

“Depends,” you said coyly. 

Both his brows rose this time, as if he was surprised you were actually pretending to resist him. 

“On?”

You subtly leaned forward when you gave him back his glass, allowing him to spy a bit more down your dress. You stared into his deep green eyes, and tried not to get lost yourself. He was an attractive man, but he was also your target. A job you intended to finish. 

A smile played at your lips.

“On what excites you,” you replied. 

By the way his eyes darkened, his smile curving, you thought he liked that answer. 

Then his hand extended toward you, a silent command in his gaze. Steeling yourself, you tried your best to be graceful and sensuous when you took his hand. He playfully jerked you forward, making you fall into his lap. 

You waved some dank weed smoke out of your face as you looked down at his amused one. 

He was nearly down to the roach on his joint. Meanwhile, his free heavy hand slid up your bare leg, disappearing beneath your dress and making goosebumps spread across your skin. Your breath hitched, though you disguised it with a smile. 

“You afraid of me, sweetheart?” he cooed. 

Yes, if you were honest with yourself. 

There was a false sense of security in his deep voice. You looked down into his eyes, very green and intensely focused on you, despite his air of nonchalance. 

“Not really,” you replied. “Only that you might get ash on my dress.”

He chuckled, smoke blowing out his nose. He put out the joint in the ashtray and took another sip of his whiskey, likely to drown out the cotton taste in his mouth. You laid a hand on his chest, fingers spreading between the open buttons, and felt his warm skin. 

He glanced up at you with another challenging tilt to his head. What are you gonna do now?

You met that challenge, boldly leaning down to press a kiss against his lips. You held his face, delving your fingers into his soft hair. 

Soldier Boy grabbed your hips with a bruising force. It made you wince, instinctively biting into his lower lip. He uttered a pleased sound, guttural in this throat. You braced yourself against the wall behind him for leverage as his chair started to tip back. 

Before either of you could fall, he lifted you effortlessly by the waist and pivoted, pinning you against that wall. Your legs wrapped around his waist as his tongue invaded your mouth, devouring you with hot and heavy hands holding you in place.

His fingers pressed into the flesh of your thighs, and you knew you couldn’t easily escape if you needed to.

This is getting out of hand… 

He was busy kissing a wet and sloppy line down your neck, his beard scraping against your skin. It actually felt so fucking good to be touched. You hadn’t experienced it in so long, it almost startled you when your heated core pulsed with the friction you were feeling against the hardness in his slacks. 

You would never admit it, but it wasn’t an act when you moaned into his ear. Fuck…

But when his hand again slipped under your dress and crept up your inner thigh, alarm bells triggered in your mind as panic started to set in. You panted for breath. 

With him seemingly distracted, you reached down into your bra and grabbed the metal disk. 

You gasped as Soldier Boy grabbed your wrist, tight as a vice. He looked down at you with a sly grin. 

“You were fuckable in black, but red’s my favorite so far,” he said. 

Your eyes widened. When the hell did he see me in black?

And then you remembered. You’d worn a black dress at the last club, where you got groped on the dance floor and found Soldier Boy’s latest note…

Had he hung around after all, watching you and the team pick up his clues?

And you realized, he knew exactly who you were. 

Soldier Boy glanced down at your lips, then at the tops of your breasts heaving as you caught your breath. His eyes shone with mischief and lust. 

“It’s a real shame. You’re probably a good fuck too,” he remarked. It sparked your irate disgust like a wildfire.

Then you smirked. “You can fuck this.” 

You activated the disk in your hand and flicked it at him. He instinctively grabbed at his face, releasing you. The device attached to his cheek and electrified enough volts through his body to drop an elephant. 

Maybe five. The CIA weapons specialist hadn’t been too sure.

And a star bolt shot Soldier Boy in the chest, shoving him away before he could grab at you. 

You jumped back and continued to put several feet of distance between you and Soldier Boy, while Annie and the rest of your team poured into the room. They were poised for a fight, once Soldier Boy ripped the device off his face with a grunt. It probably hadn’t hurt him much, but he looked pissed now. 

He rolled the kinks out of his neck and surveyed the room with a slow gait. He spared you a fleeting glance. You were now at the safety of Kimiko’s side, and Frenchie handed you a gun. 

“Ah, the Scooby Gang,” Soldier Boy remarked. He nodded at Butcher. “This is how you repay me for taking care of Homelander? My own son.”

“He weren’t your fucking son,” Butcher replied. “I’d reckon you know that best of all.”

Soldier Boy’s lips twitched. Whether at a smile or a frown, you couldn’t tell. 

“You found me, remember? So what, you got buyer’s remorse?” he said.

“See, the problem is, supes like you are what we call,” said Butcher, “a menace to fucking society.” 

Soldier Boy’s lips pulled down into a frown. He looked a cross between annoyed and impatient. 

“I fought for my country. I saved lives—”

“You took just as many as you might’ve saved,” M.M. interrupted. “And not just that building you burnt the fuck up last year.” 

Soldier Boy hesitated at that. “You really wanna do this?” 

You all really want to die? his eyes said. He got determined silence from all of you. He rolled his shoulders and adjusted his blazer. 

“All right,” he shrugged. 

Then all hell broke loose. You ducked for cover as Soldier Boy deflected the giant flare gun M.M. shot at him. With his bare hand. 

Hired security then poured into the room—you assumed hired by Soldier Boy. And you protected Hughie from getting his neck snapped by shooting a man between the eyes.

You and M.M. continued to fight them off. Meanwhile, Kimiko and Annie tried to give Butcher and Frenchie a chance to get close with the Novichok gas on Soldier Boy. 

You took care of three more men before you heard a low buzzing sound. You turned around, and a gasp fell from your lips when you saw Soldier Boy’s chest lighting up. 

You knew what came next. 

And so did Annie. She poured her all into her next star bolt—which managed to shove Soldier Boy through the window. She and Kimiko flew or otherwise ran out the window to follow him. While Butcher, Frenchie, and M.M. helped you fight off the last of the hired guns. 

Finally, you covered Hughie as the five of you left the normal, human way, and ran down the stairs to exit the club. By the time you were able to join Annie and Kimiko, however, Soldier Boy had disappeared.

You glared down the dark, busy streets of Medellin. 

Damn it!

You returned to the hotel disappointed and angry beyond fucking belief. Mostly at yourself.

After all the work you did, having to seduce and make out with that bastard, only to discover he’d made you long before you took the stage at the club.

Fucking hell, you thought angrily as you kicked at your suitcase. It sent your clothes tumbling across the dirty carpet, but right now you didn’t give a fuck. Damn cocky bastard. 

In the bathroom, you kicked off your heels in relief. You looked yourself over in the mirror and found various cuts and bruises from the fight. Your softly curled hair was a shambles, along with your makeup. 

Parts of your dress were torn, along with your pantyhose. Which was probably Soldier Boy’s doing, if you thought about it. You sighed. 

You were about to start undressing, but then you heard something. A small sound, like a thump. 

Your gun was on the table in the main room. Frowning in suspicion, you left the bathroom cautiously. Before your hand could close around your gun, a gloved hand grabbed your wrist. 

You aimed a punch with your free one and caught a man directly in the jaw. He reeled back, but was quick to recover and try to grab you again. 

While the guy was strong, you could feel that he wasn’t a supe. A human, you could deal with. He wore a mask over his face, but you could see he had shoulder-length brown hair. He was tall and lean, and one of his boots was strangely larger than the other.

You didn’t have time to focus on it. You redirected his following blow and used his strength against him, flipping him over your shoulder. Unfortunately, he landed on the table that held your poor laptop. 

“Aw, shit,” you snapped with a grimace. You searched for your gun in the wreckage. 

While you were somewhat distracted, he aimed a kick that caught you in the face, sending you onto your back with a pained cry. You quickly rolled over and got to your feet, just as your attacker threw out fist after fist.

You dodged and shoved away most of them, until he grabbed your arm and managed to crack his elbow into your temple.

You went down and hit your head hard against the bedframe.

And it was lights out.

You slowly, painfully woke up in a moving car. 

You were suffering the cottony taste of a gag in your mouth and a musty bag over your head. Your wrists were tied in front of you, and it felt like you were shoved into the backseat. The car was quiet, save for the radio playing Latin pop on low volume. 

You never would’ve thought Shakira would be the background track of your kidnapping, but here you were. 

The car eventually stopped and you were dragged out, forced onto your feet on a cobblestone driveway. Then into a house. 

…Well, this fucking sucks.

The thought rattled through your mind as you were led down a hallway, across a cold expanse of tile floor. You couldn’t see where you were going with this stuffy bag over your head, but you knew it was tile. Your bare feet all but scraped across it as they dragged you. 

Whoever held your arms in a vice grip eventually forced you to sit in a rickety wooden chair. They pulled your wrists behind the chair and bound them together with a zip tie. 

You felt the slit on your dress sliding open, so you crossed your legs, for whatever good that would do you. At the very least, it would give the impression that you were sitting here casually, and not (figuratively) shitting yourself with fear.  

“What the hell is this?” a deep, familiar voice asked.

“A gift.” You knew this voice as well. Neither one instilled you with calm.

Then the bag finally came off your head. The gag did not, however. You knew your red dress was in unfortunate tatters. You knew you were bruised and scratched, and overall worse for wear.

But when your gaze found your kidnapper, you glared up at him with a stubborn tilt to your chin. Antonio, Señor Groping Bastard from the club, was smirking back at you. 

What the fuck.

Then you noticed him.

Soldier Boy stared back at you with raised brows, and instant recognition in his eyes. His lips curved into a smirk.

“Hey, sweetheart.”

AN: 😬 So we finally made it to the prologue opener! Was it everything you thought it would be? How did you like her attempt at "undercover?" 🤭

And are you ready for what's coming next?

To keep reading: Part 3

Soldier Boy Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Series Tag List:

@deans-spinster-witch @this-is-me19 @waynes-multiverse @pallographsunspot @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @spalady26 @spnwoman @wirdbeimaufhebengebunden @syrma-sensei @muhahaha303 @123passwort @xoxovienna @magnificentnightmarehadi @lollag0w0 @globetrotter28 @nancymcl @ashbatz @yvonneeeee @fckinel @secretdreamlandmentality @kristophalis @wonderland2022 @waters-2567 @emily-winchester

[dollfaced-erin]

𝔻𝕣𝕒𝕘𝕠𝕟'𝕤 ℂ𝕣𝕒𝕕𝕝𝕖 (Blade x F!Reader x Jing Yuan)

PART 9

PART 1 , PART 2 , PART 3 , PART 4 , PART 5 , PART 6 , PART 7 , PART 8

A/n ! :

sorry i'm late ! i was waiting for the 1.3 update to see if there was anything wrong with the content i already had in the story. But it seems like everything i wrote is still ambiguous and according to the main story, so i dont have to change much !! yipee !! anyways, did you guys pull for dan heng ? tell me how it went !

Taglist ! :-

@rebeccawinters , @nayukiyukihira , @pix-stuff , @fluffy-koalala , @swivy123 , @starxao , @kaoyamamegami , @kimura-uzuri , @rsvye , @seikouryuu , @just-here-reading , @matsulovesyou, @sincerely-aaronette , @prettyliliy , @chibiduck , @hermosacolibri , @la-diablas-thingz , @farelady-fate

Once…there was a legend. Of the clan that inherited the will of an Aeon, Long the Permanence. This clan was bestowed with the gift of immortality, being able to spend hundreds of years roaming this world.

This legend…revolves around two beings that directly inherited this will. The will of the heart of the dragon. Those who have successfully inherited this will through trials and challenges will be bestowed with power that overleaps its bounds of regular limits.

Born from different eggs, yet inherit the same heart, was two siblings. Similar to each other, yet so different from the other. A fierce and stoic brother, and a kind and gentle sister. One inherited the might of the seas, and the other inherited the wisdom of the remedies.

Once this shy but sociable sister desired to find company. So her confident but reserved brother brought her and introduced her to a group outside the walls of her confines.

With the arrogant heart that she managed to pure, she followed through with eyes of a child, and a heart yearning for more. A heart that showed nothing but kindness, until the blacksmith taught the princess the meaning of love.

But siblings don't go too far from each other. Sooner rather than later, even the brother began to favor his heart towards the short-lived species. The heart that was in his sister began to resonate as greed and jealousy plagued his soul.

He would fight, even if it meant going behind his dear sister's back.

With greed…all three of them fell into ruin. Even the homeland they so desperately tried to protect…

The dragon went missing, the princess lay in rest, the blacksmith was cursed and the prince's kin was exiled.

"This is a legendary tale told amongst the Vidyadhara children," said the nurse to her charge. The young doctor sighed and pouted, a cute frown on her lips, a rosy blush on her cheeks.

"Why are there only tales of woe wove from the history of dust ?" the next high elder asked, looking up from her many books, setting down her brush that was dipped in black ink.

"Because in the end, we can only remember the memories that impacted us the most, Lady Bailu."

Bailu huffed, and crossed over her arms before looking up at the ceiling that housed her in her little 'cage'. The tail behind her whipped in annoyance, the shackle binding it making it heavy.

"I wonder what happened to them after the story ended..."

It happened all in a blink of an eye. In one moment, she had knocked down one of the Mara-struck soldiers. She was about to hand her gourd to one of the healers to apply to the fallen star when the other plagued ones had rose to their feet, about to attack her.

The trailblazers (Y/n) had recognized from Jing Yuan's hologram meeting were there too, watching from the sidelines as they stiffened, grabbing their weapons as they were about to step in to assist. The grey haired star traveler with her bat, the pink haired girl with her bow, and the man with the power of the imaginary.

But before they managed to step in, a cool icy breeze pushed past them, small thin petals of ice drifting in the wind from behind them. The wind began to pick up, all of a sudden from out of nowhere. All visions blurred for a slight moment as the icy winds shut their eyes.

A determined thump of a heal resounded in the little dragon's ears, as her eyes were blinded with the sudden hurricane.

"Freeze within the confines of beauty and purity," a cold yet warm voice whispered through the mist.

As eyes opened again, the mara struck soldiers were stuck in lotus like cages, cold air being stuck in their confines, freezing them to the core. The abominations thrashed in there, but their movements were growing slower by the second.

But that wasn't all.

In front of Bailu, stood a tall woman, her (h/c) swaying around her as the winds died down, probably due to the extreme power this woman exerted just from her form.

"Are you alright ?!" a woman asked, standing proudly and protectively in front of the healers that were startled from the sudden confrontation.

This woman...the lady with silky (h/c) hair like the finest silk, woven from the freshest flowers. Eyes of (e/c) carved from the most brilliant precious stones in the universe. Skin so clear and soft, like a child that had just hatched from their egg. Blue horns that perched on her head, confirming her identity and status.

Bailu would be crazy not to recognize the woman before her.

"L-lady Dan--" Bailu cut herself short, knowing the information she had received earlier.

"Lady (Y/n), what are you doing here ?!" the young dragon girl asked.

(Y/n) looked behind her to immediately notice the horns perched atop of the girl's head, the tail swishing so eagerly behind her. She frowned, her eyebrows creasing for a moment. Her beautiful purple tail...was shackled. For what reason...?

"Are you alright ?" (Y/n) asked, crouching down in front of the young heiress, hands on her arms as she looked into those troubled blue eyes. Once she had received a nod from the young girl, she turned to the Astral Expressers, her hands clutching her fan tightly.

"I...I'm alright ! M-my name is Bailu !" the little girl quickly introduced. (Y/n) raised an eyebrow at the hastiness. Was this little girl...scared of her...?

"Give them a moment. You can knock them out cold once the ice lotus has froze them." (Y/n) said with a nod to the oldest of them, finding her instincts telling her that he was leading the two young women.

Soon after she was sure that the forsaken ones had froze from her powers, the ice petals of the lotus that caged them moved in a wilting way, releasing the abominations of their confines and disintegrating into fine mist. And the Nameless got to work.

"Thank you for your assistance, Lady..." the brunette-haired man asked, looking at the refined young dragon woman before him. He wasn't quite sure how to address the woman before him, but he was sure she was of high standing, based on her clothes, horns, air of elegance, show of power. And most of all...the way the young dragon lady addressed her as Lady.

"(Y/n). My name is (Y/n)." (Y/n) said with a nod, standing up to acknowledge the help. Bailu had went off with the other healers to assess the wounds and conditions of the Mara-struck soldiers, being knocked out cold for a while as Bailu gave them her elixir.

"Lady (Y/n). My name is Welt Yang," the brunette man introduced before gesturing to the other two women. "And this is March, and Stelle."

March beamed out a happy and bubbly 'Hello !" at the woman, and Stelle nodded in acknowledgment, commenting shortly about 'You have pretty horns. Are they real ?'. (Y/n) nodded softly, finding Stelle's question rather...humorous.

"Thanks for helping to stabilize the patients..." Bailu sighed as she turned around from the fallen mara-struck soldiers to meet the Trailblazers that had helped them.

"Your...'assertive sedations' techniques are quite effective." Bailu acknowledged with a small nod.

"Assertive sedation techniques...? Does she mean beating people up ?" March asked with a finger to her lips.

"However..." Bailu said, looking behind her, and then looking down to the ground. "These Cloud Knights were already sick, and now they're injured too. I've gotta bandage up their wounds, realign their bones...ugh, as if I didn't have enough already on my plate !"

Then (Y/n) turned to Bailu. "I could help you if you need. If I could just remember things right, I should be able to do it." she said with a nod, and Bailu gleamed in joy.

But before Bailu could express her gratitude, March cut in with a question, after inspecting the two horned beings before her, trying to connect the dots. "Where did you come from, little one ? Is your dad around ?"

Then March turned to (Y/n). "Do you know where her parents are ?"

Before (Y/n) could answer, Bailu chirped up, "I don't have a dad."

"Uh...what about your mom ?" "I don't have a mom either."

(Y/n) was so perplexed at the exchange, she couldn't even find it in her to laugh at how clueless and vague Bailu made the Vidyadhara situation to be.

Bailu sighed, looking at March then shaking her head in disappointment. "I get it, you think because I'm small I'm must be a runaway child."

"Welcome to the Xianzhou, my short-lived outsider friends, appearances can be deceiving here !" Bailu announced, her little hands on her hips. "The Vidyadhara race is self-reincarnating. No mum or dad required !"

"What she means is, as you can see here, we're not humans. We're a more draconic race known as the Vidyadhara. Our most significant features are our pointed ears, but for special cases like for myself and Miss Bailu here, we have horns and a tail." (Y/n) explained, crouching down and placing a hand on the small back of the little lady next to her.

"We don't have parents. Whenever we are gravely injured or our bodies no longer are able to sustain us, we return back to an egg for reincarnation process." (Y/n) patiently explained, using what knowledge she had from her 'past' life. Although it wasn't too hard to dig out since it was general knowledge instead of self-history.

"Yeah ! I've been studying the art of healing ever since I cast off my old shell ! You're looking at a recognized, practicing, dedicated doctor !" Bailu proudly said in front of the Trailblazers, and in front of (Y/n).

(Y/n) let out a soft chuckle, realizing why this child was a little hesitant with her in the beginning. This child wanted to show (Y/n) she was a capable person. For what reason ? Perhaps this abundance of energy would let it slip later.

"Belobog kids are making snowmen while children here are writing prescriptions..." March said, as she looked at Stelle. A frown pulled at her pretty lips, while her companion shook her head in response.

Bailu looked up at March, worry in her pretty sea eyes. "Things haven't been very peaceful on the Luofu recently. Make sure you don't--" "Go running around, right ?" March continued, a soft smile on her lips.

"Well your general gave us an errand, so I'm afraid we have to." March said, shaking her head.

As they continued to talk, (Y/n) couldn't help but notice the constant pair of eyes that burned through her back. It seemed that there were some that are quite...dissatisfied with her presence here. She was sure that when Jing Yuan allowed her to roam the streets, he must've held an audience with the Six Charioteers, the Ten-Lords Commission and the Vidyadhara Preceptors.

So why is that maid in the back there looking all fidgety...?

(Y/n) turned around to leave the group (after learning how to exchange beacons with Bailu and the rest), and walked towards the maid that stood quite a ways behind them. She wasn't much of a person up for confrontation, but if matters called, she didn't mind putting people in their place, now so that she had regained some memories of her past identity.

"You." (Y/n) asked as she stood in front of that maid. This was the maid that looked quite dissatisfied with (Y/n) from the moment (Y/n) stepped close to Bailu.

This woman had pointed ears. Huh. So it must be Bailu's retainers, then. Such a heavy watch for a child that could barely even reach her waist. Had something happened once she had succumbed to her slumber ?

"I was hoping you'd never step close to Miss Bailu." the woman said, and it made (Y/n) raise her brow at this.

"And why is that ? Is she not the next High Elder ? Does she not have a say in what she should and should not do ?" (Y/n) asked, her hands holding onto the fan.

"Once you had woken up from your slumber, the Preceptors are threatening to remove Miss Bailu of her position. After your brother, Dan Feng threatened to ruin the High Elder Succession of the Luofu..."

"Hold on. Miss Bailu's draconic features is more than enough proof for her to be the High Elder, is it not ?" (Y/n) said, putting a thoughtful hand to her lips. Then she shook her head. "And if you're worried about the succession of the new High Elder, you mustn't worry. For as long as my brother does not return, I cannot be the High Elder, no matter how much power I behold."

"I would merely be...incomplete without him."

And suddenly, she felt as if her heart was beating loudly in her chest. Her eyes widened as she suddenly felt the loud thumping in her chest, pulling her somewhere. Somewhere...familiar.

Following her heart, she excused herself from the maid and went off. It felt as if something was pulling her heart, like a string pulling her along where she walked.

Past the citizens...through streets...and into the dark alleyway none would've dared walked into.

She was alone in the dark. She wondered not why did she follow her heart without thinking rationally. She clutched her fan tightly in one hand, though she was sure anyone in their right mind wouldn't want to venture into these silent and cold dark spaces. Not when there was the internal strife she was told about.

(Y/n) shook her head, pondering about why did her heart really bring her here. That was, until she felt strong arms wrap around her smaller form, her back colliding with a rock-hard surface, and a weight softly dropping itself onto her shoulder, breathing softly as the individual took in her scent of flowers and ice.

"Even though I didn't want to let you see me again..." a deep and cold voice resonated in her ear. Then soft lips pecked themselves on her shoulder.

"I just had to see you one last time..."

[inevitably-johnlocked]

hello hello! I was wondering if you had any winged aus tucked away? the latest post I could find (though goodness knows tumblr’s search feature is iffy) was from 2019 and I was curious about an updated list if it isn’t too much trouble!

Hey Lovely!

You are correct, it's been a LONG time since I've put a new list together... I don't have any new personal recs (been a LONG time since I've read them), so what I'm going to do is do a tag search on my MFL list and put together a nice fresh list of fics suggested to me by you guys! Please note that I have NOT read any of the fics on this list so I'm probably wrong somewhere, LOL. They're not ALL winglock, for sure, but if anyone has anything relevant that they can add to this list, please do! Enjoy!

WINGLOCK / ANGELS / DEMONS Pt. 2 (MFLs)

See also:

Winglock / Angels / Demons (Updated Apr 2022)

Sherlock x  Good Omens Crossovers (Updated Apr 2022)

The Detective and the Demon by oreganotea (G, 2,389 w., 1 Ch. || Supernatural Elements || Pre-Slash, Urban Fantasy, Demons, Humour, Friendship) – “Every demon on record is described as either monstrously terrifying or breathtakingly beautiful,” Sherlock says. “I have never heard of a demon with a forgettable face and a propensity for ugly jumpers.” The demon looks down at his jumper. Okay, so it might not be the most flattering article of clothing in the world, but it sure looks a hell of a lot more comfortable than Sherlock’s two-sizes-too-small shirt.

The Babadook by CatieBrie (T, 6,886 w., 1 Ch. || Babadook Fusion || Post-TRF, Horror, Demonic Possession, Violence, Halloween, Grief, Angst with Happy Ending) – “A children’s book,” John mutters as he flips it open. The pages are scrawled with beautiful charcoal lines and thick black ink. The cover, bright red, edges the open pages and something tugs at the back of John’s brain. It’s a familiar feeling, black and tarrish and thick in his thoughts. He shakes it off and picks the book up off his bed, turning so that he can sit on the edge and spread the book out across his knees. If it’s in a word or it’s in a look, you can’t get rid of the Babadook. He turns the page, ignoring the pressure building beneath his chest. There’s a closet on one page; paper doors meant to be opened by the reader flutter as John reads the text on the other page.

In The Arms Of The Angel by Watermelonsmellinfellon (M, 8,585 w., 3 Ch. || Fallen Angel AU || Friendship, Angels/Wings, BAMF John, Trust, Fluff, Romance, Eventual Happy Ending) – The human population possesses the ability to grow feathers from their spines, but less than even five million at a time ever actually grow any. A feather for a life. Every life saved, earned a feather. The feathers would overlap each other, until there was finally enough to create a wing and if some were lucky, two wings.

The Soldier And The Demon by LipstickDaddy (G, 8,998 w., 6 Ch. || Victorian / Demon AU || Strangers to Friends to Lovers, Soldier John, Demon Sherlock, Domestic Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Protective John, Protective Sherlock, Happy Ending) – Johnlock/Kuroshitsuji AU - 1879. Captain John H Watson of the Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers is dying from a near-fatal gunshot wound in the Kandahar desert; until a demon saves his life. There’s a catch, though; one day, his saviour will eat his soul.

You Don't Need Wings to Fly by Laiquilasse (T, 11,326 w., 11 Ch. || Wonderful Life AU || Bullying, Angels, Suicidal Ideation, Christmas) – John, an angel, is sent from Heaven to help a desperate Sherlock Holmes by showing him what life would have been like if he had never existed.

Tattered by SrebrnaFH (M, 15,857 w., 6 Ch. || Winglock || Family, Childhood, Society, Abuse, Electricity, Hurt John / Sherlock, Protective John, No Smut, Bullying, Sudden Relationship Change) – John visits Baker Street without any warning and gets an eyeful.

On Feathers and Bacon Sandwiches by Kryptaria(T, 21,092 w., 8 Ch. || Winglock AU || Demon John, Asexual Sherlock) – No one has ever stayed with Sherlock longer than a month. At least, no human. Fortunately, John Watson isn't about to let the little things - like biohazardous experiments and the constant threat of danger - get in the way of his friendship with a very special, very brilliant man like Sherlock Holmes. Part 1 of Feathers 'verse

The 13th Book by meet_me_in_samarra (T, 24,491 w., 13 Ch. || Magical Realism Winglock AU || Enemies to Friends, Friendship, Witty Banter, Interspecies Bromance, Demon Sherlock) – Summoning a demon was actually quite simple if you could avoid getting killed in the process. Therefore, only the powerful, the desperate or the stupid would attempt it. John Watson was likely the first, definitely the second but hopefully not one of the third kind.

This Is Family by SaraStarchild (T, 39,840 w., 16 Ch. || Hereditary AU || Psychological Horror, Body Horror, Demonic Possession, POV Third Person Limited, Protective Mycroft, Cults, Mycroft Whump, Sherlock Whump, Major Character Death, Graphic Violence, Retelling) – When the Holmes family's secretive mother and matriarch, Ellen Holmes, passes away, the family she leaves behind – father Martin, sons Mycroft and Sherlock, and daughter Eurus – begins to unravel cryptic and increasingly terrifying secrets about their ancestry. The more they discover, the more they find themselves trying to outrun the sinister fate they seem to have inherited. This is, pretty much, a word-for-word retelling of the 2018 Ari Aster film, Hereditary. Part 1 of Sherlock Halloween Stories

Though the brightest fell by BeMyGoldfish (M, 41,243 w., 7 Ch. || Celestial AU || Post THoB, Soulmates, Guardian Angels, Demons, Mystrade, Background Johnlock) –  In his office, Mycroft (the Archangel) tries to recruit Greg (the ‘ex-angel’ mortal) on a celestial mission to save Sherlock from what he wants most. "This is some elaborate joke cooked up by your brother as revenge for me not asking him to help on the Islington Exsanguinations, isn't it? How did he get you in on it, Mycroft? Did he hide your trouser press? Or threaten to expose your secret ciggie habit to your mum? This isn't funny. It's weird and obscure, but it is not funny.”

Trapped by Gem_Gem & harrylee94 (M, 41,311 w., 3 Ch. || Demon John AU || Demon John, Mild Gore, POV Sherlock, Mild Homophobic Language, Kiss, Bonding) – During his most recent case, Sherlock finds himself in the hands of the very people he had been trying to pursue. This mistake lands him in a cell, already occupied by a strange man who calls himself John. But who is John? And why does he look so... hungry? Part 3 of the Bonded by Words Stories series

Murderous Imprint by MojoFlower (E, 52,634 w., 24 Ch. || Winglock || Organ Theft, Imprinting, First Kiss / Time, Whump, Torture, Blow Jobs, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Case Fic, Magical Realism) – Sherlock should be focusing on the series of brutal vivisections Lestrade has brought to him. Instead he's distracted by a most amazing and unexpected experimental opportunity from the basement apartment of 221C. Will he figure out the one in time to stop the other? And does he need help in order to do it? Part 1 of the Hatch series

Not English But Angels by orphan_account (E, 203,251 w., 15 Ch. || Twisted Canon, Slow Burn, First Kiss/Time, Minor Character Death) – A sort-of canon, sort-of AU fic in which I twist and supplement canon to weave it into a new story in which Sherlock and John come from different worlds and nothing is quite what it seems.

WORKS IN PROGRESS

The Posthumous Game by S_IRIS (E, 58,695+ w., 12/19 Ch. || WiP || Supernatural Elements AU || S4 Fix It, Crack, Humour, Fluff, Demonic Possession, Friends to Lovers, First Kiss/Time, Sherlock Whump, Hurt Comfort, Hallucinations) – A Season 4 fix-it fic where Jim Moriarty really is dead but comes back as a demon to haunt Sherlock. The only problem is Jim is a total newbie at demonic possession so he tries to make-do and ends up making Johnlock happen. Only, it doesn’t happen the way you’d think.

Hellfire by HarleysCompass (E, 66,660+ w., 19/? Ch. || WiP || Fallen Angel AU || Biblical References, BAMF John, Sexual Content, Fallen Angel John) – In 1880 Dr. John H. Watson dies on foreign soil. The next thing he knows he's wandering the planes of Heaven. After betraying God, John is cast out, employed by the devil, and protecting a sociopath of a human with a penchant for trouble and pissing off Angels. 

[yiga-hellhole]

TFTK 23&24

His forces gathered, Zant plots his next move. The Triforce of Power is within reach now, and he will need little more than a Blade to retrieve it.

hiiii everyone. since i've added the prologue (which will be getting its own promo image.. eventually...) the chapter counts are a bit out of wack so this update is both. the update has been up on ao3 for a bit but artfight season made me a little slow on the visual art side! but no longer! SOOO excited to bring you all this update!

once again thank you to the lovely @bulgariansumo and @orfeolookback for betareading!!!

CW this chapter for body horror, graphic violence, mutilation

ao3 mirror

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17

As the days at the Bulblin settlement went on, so did their army grow. Those who stayed at the encampment as visitors spread the word home, and as perilous as it was to spread the information of the deceptively alive lieutenants, Zant had permitted it gladly. After all, Hyrule was much too busy celebrating victory to pay any mind to those fractured tribes, now without a cause to unite under. Oh, what little did they know!

Very much united under a cause, Zant had gathered commanders from their haphazard bands in the new Chief’s tent – Earl Eydra, second daughter of the late Hallra, also accompanied by Lord Banayu, spokesman of the Bokoblin tribes. His very own Ghirahim, of course, stood right beside him, etching away at a map that Zant gingerly brushed his fingertips along. 

The Valley of Seers. Zant had never seen it, but Ghirahim had twice over. Being meticulous as ever, he had of course committed every second of footage to memory, and translated every measurement and possible point of interest onto paper. 

Negotiations followed as usual. Instead of being a silent bystander who offered his knowledge only when an interruption was permitted, Zant took an active role. He stood at the front of the map, all his pegs and baubles at his disposal, and commandeered it as though his movements would shift the fabric of reality itself. Intel was exchanged for commands ‘round the strategy table. One bokoblin stood by the side of one particularly dull-looking, flat-faced hound man, relaying information through a different tongue in hushed whispers. The dimwitted lug nodded hard, his floppy ears wiggling with the effort. Ghirahim wondered if brute strength among dolts like those would be enough to win them this battle.

But he supposed that’s what he and Zant were for.

Ghirahim quickly returned to sketching his map. Zant was catching up to him, his brow increasingly furrowed by what he saw. “Is it not possible that, at this point, Sorceress Lana is instead taking residence in the Temple of Souls?” asked Zant, seeming perturbed by the inhospitable sights of the Valley. 

“We find it unlikely, Sire,” hissed a Hyrulean soldier from across the tent, bearing a voice far slimier than a human would suggest. 

This out-of-place figure soon turned out to be perfectly where he should be. He grimaced, his hands tightening in claws. The metal on his gauntlets melted to black, then to skin, then to dark brown fur over clawed, spindly paws. Helmet and pauldrons similarly fused to his flesh, until it became his flesh itself. The plumed feather on his helmet ripped into two, twitching to each side of his head to form ears. Finally, his cloak unfurled into a pair of ink-black bat wings, quivering and flapping with relief of freedom. Now revealed, the Ache perched its hands on the edge of the table and leered at his General with great anticipation.

Only to have the gloved hand of his Lieutenant smashed indignantly in his face.

“You will not speak unless permitted,” snarled Ghirahim, baring his teeth at this defiance. “Now you may continue.”

The lesser demon whined, rubbing its wrinkled snout. It gulped down any other sniffles and spoke. “Egh… Th-... The Temple is currently being used as a jail. Lieutenants Yuga and Wizzro are held prisoner there, awaiting prosecution, Sire.”

Zant perked up almost pleasantly. “Is that so? I expected them to have been executed by now. Well, that saves me some time and effort.”

Before Ghirahim could frown too hard at his statement, Zant disturbed him even further. “Perhaps Hyrule noticed that right now, for Yuga, being alive is enough of a punishment. But that will have to wait until later. Tell me of our battlefield.”

The team of scouts relayed their findings. Having eyes in the skies once again worked thoroughly in their favor; the whole of the Valley had been surveyed in practically no time at all. On a dark, cloudy night, the hides of their demon forces would be noticed by none. And to their luck, as Zant expected, their target was scarcely guarded. A handful of outposts, at most, with hardly five hundred men huddled about in total. A disaster to encounter in formation, but pathetic when spread thin across the entire territory. Even better, with Ganon’s defeat, Hyrule had sent its guests across time home in a teary goodbye. Left in this realm were only the Princess, her Knight, her General, and the Sorceress. In other words, Lana was thoroughly unprepared for any sort of siege.

“How awfully convenient,” said Ghirahim, bringing a hand skeptically to his face. “I’d almost think this is a trap.”

Zant snickered under his breath, arranging pawns wherever the little tippy-taps of batty fingers told him where outposts sat. “On the contrary, Ghirahim. It makes perfect sense. What enemies does Hyrule expect to have left, that they cannot confidently tackle in isolated groups?”

Pawns thwacked decisively in place. “It’s clear to me. Tell me, Lord Eydra, have you heard anything, at all, from our neighbors further out into the sands?”

Eydra shook her head, her horns clacking and bangles jingling. “None at all, Sir. Not a peep from ‘em since ‘ey’ve gone and blown up a couple weeks ago.”

Ah, that whole incident. So he was not suspected of having caused the moon crash in the desert. At least, not by these people. Ghirahim restrained his expression and turned to him. “So they’re leaving the Gerudo alone. That means…”

“The ones who birthed their nemesis? Who conspired against Hyrule’s throne? That ought to have been their first order to persecute. Yet they are not. Most definitely, Hyrule is laying low. Staying out of trouble as it rebuilds, I’ll wager,” Zant smiled, flicking Ghirahim’s finger as he pointed it at the map. “Oh, my blade. Taking the Valley will be a breeze. And the Triforce with it.”

That was when a slight snort caught their attention. Lord Banayu stuck his snout over the table and made himself heard. “Respectfully, Sire. If it will be such a ‘breeze’, as you say… I don’t see why our starting numbers are to be so small,” he asked, tapping a thick-nailed finger at a group of pawns on the map. “We ought to clear them out as quickly as possible.”

“On the contrary. I intend to deceive her.”

Brows raised around the room.

Their collective confusion only served to make Zant grin more. “If we go all out from the start as you suggest, Lord Banayu, the Sorceress will cry to the Palace before we can even reach her dwelling. If we give her the idea she can win on her own… She will spell her own doom, and we will decimate her at the last second.”

As his fellow conspirator stood there, palms upturned in an inviting gesture and his ego swelling to burst, Ghirahim clicked his tongue. “A bit of a cowardly move.”

Earl Eydra, once hesitant, now nodded along to Ghirahim’s words. “Aye. Your old boss never would have bothered with such mind games.”

“And that’s precisely why he is dead and I remain standing,” Zant stated bluntly, unflinchingly, his hands folded behind his back. “Any further questions?”

–

Their march would be a long one, rife with delays and detours. They simply could not risk their procession being spotted by any opposing force; tension in Eldin, in particular, ran wild, with clades once squashed now once again vying for territory. But the Valley was right around the corner. Zant’s forces had set up their camp (the one he was in, at least), just past the hills that separated the rain-shadowed grasslands of the south with the green hills of the north. Beyond the tallest of those hills, the Valley was in sight.

That was where Ghirahim and Zant then stood, overlooking that promised land. It was strange seeing the place free from Cia’s influence. Where the sky was once swirling and ominously crimson, it was no different from the dark blue veil of the horizon now. They would gather no intel just standing there, watching from afar. Zant likely just wanted to brood.

Speak of the devil, there he went, and said, “just between us, Ghirahim.”

Ghirahim perked up, not looking at him just yet. “My. I’m privy to your secrets, now?”

Zant frowned a little. “I’ve none more to keep from you. Either way… We will be the only ones to face Lana tomorrow. I’ve played up our strengths to our men, but they will only be taking care of her fodder. That being said, we cannot underestimate the Sorceress whatsoever.”

“Oh? We’ve taken care of her just fine before,” Ghirahim noted, idly turning a dagger in his hand to check it for nicks.

Shaking his head, Zant looked down the hills. “And yet I believe she’s stronger than she lets on. In fact, I think she might be older than this land itself.”

“Impossible,” Ghirahim frowned, dismissing the dagger with a snap of his fingers. “I’ve never heard of her until I arrived here, and I’ve lived eons before Hyrule came to be.”

Zant stepped up to loom over him, eyes narrowing. “You’re not listening. I meant this land.”

Whenever Zant was being vague like this, he’d usually think he caught onto some mystery or other. Ghirahim saw no point in delaying the inevitable and sighed. “This again… Fine, prattle away.”

At once, the shadow over his eyes faded, replaced by a manic glint. Ghirahim almost spotted a smile when Zant turned away from him. “I was doing some digging before we entered this phase of the assault,” because naturally, he had. “Of course, I wasn't the first to be curious about the nature of this world. I stumbled upon it in the Sorceress’ library – the bizarre ways of timekeeping in this area, the oddities in the landscape; it did not escape the notice of scholars in this time.”

Ghirahim put his hands on his sides, fully prepared to stand there for another hour or two. “And, I take it, they came to a similar conclusion?”

“Indeed. At some point, the different branches of time must have converged, and their landscapes with it. We saw it in Faron Woods, and the Master Sword’s pedestal, deep within,” he said, his gestures leaving light trails behind his hands. Odd runes shaped into approximate images of the locations he named, but could hardly take shape before he clawed them to smoke and turned insistently to Ghirahim. “Which, in and of itself, was a duplicate! An empty husk!”

When he thought on it, he recalled that the Master Sword of this era had been stored in a different temple, right in the middle of Lake Dumoria, southwest of Faron Woods. Yet, a pedestal remained in Faron, the one they saw for themselves. Did the sealing place change? Ghirahim realized any question he asked might leak into another hour, so he simply nodded. “As you say.”

“Think about it, Ghirahim. For Lana – for me, to have command over allies and monsters of the past, all of these worlds must have once existed. Otherwise, we would have to reach across realities, a power befitting only a God. And I, not yet, have recognized such power, neither in her or in myself.”

Suddenly, Zant turned around, giving himself room to pace about frantically. “But for them to merge in the first place… This would explain why the magicks she uses are unknown to us both. They must have been born from divine force, to be uniquely wielded by Cialana, with the Triforce of Power as its conduit. It must have been her to merge these worlds.”

Ghirahim frowned, cocking his head. “... Right. And, you don’t suppose this god-like power could have perished with Cia?”

Turning back to look at the Valley, Zant’s expression lightened by an uncharacteristic degree. “I wholeheartedly admit I haven’t the slightest clue. Let us not risk finding out.”

Bemused by his attitude, Ghirahim sidled up next to him, deciding to give him attitude by bending at the hip and leaned into his field of vision. “And what do you want me to do about it?”

Zant grinned. “I’ve combed a fair share through this magic. It requires vocal commands first and foremost. When we come to face her, silence her,” he said, reaching to cup Ghirahim’s chin in his fingers. He tilted him back upright, guiding their eyes to meet. “Cut her tongue out if you must.”

Ghirahim returned a smile. “I thought you’d never ask.”

Zant seemed content with this exchange, though the thumb stroking across the Sword Spirit’s chin and the eyes latching onto him for a moment made it seem like he’d wished for more. But the open air always made Zant uneasy, and Ghirahim knew this. So when the former did indeed step away, the latter was only mildly disappointed. “If all that is clear to you,” Zant said, “I’m going to do something I should have done a long time ago. When my usurpation comes to fruition, I’ll be far too busy for it.”

The allure of bloodshed putting him in a bit of a mood, Ghirahim turned to him with a croon. “And what might that be?”

With thorough nonchalance, Zant then proceeded to kick off his shoes. Toes wriggling in the grass, he promptly set off almost gleefully, as if mere seconds prior they hadn’t discussed a violent coup.

“You’re a looney,” Ghirahim said, watching him wade through the plains. “You’re sick in the head.”

“And you are functionally immortal,” Zant quipped back. He climbed up on the roots of a gnarled cedar nearby, his hand resting on its bark. “Confident as I am in our victory, I’m grabbing my little shreds of joy where I can get them. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

Ears piqued at the sound of some insect, Zant’s eyes scanned the green expanse before him. When spotting what he was looking for, he didn’t so much as prowl for it as he hopped down from his vantage point, shambled towards it, and launched himself into the grass with a slapdash vault. 

“As I thought,” he exclaimed, struggling to keep the object of his interest trapped in his cupped hands. “I haven’t seen this species yet!”

It was a miracle he’d even caught the damned thing. How could he think about such frivolous things now? Ghirahim stood and shook his head in sheer disbelief, but felt compelled to follow him either way. Just in case, (and it was likely), Zant’s lack of self-preservation had remained even as his plans were unfolding successfully, and he somehow managed to slip and crack his head on a rock, or some such nonsense. A little nest of grass denting below him, Zant sat in the meadows, the brittle strands of his hair waving along in the wind with the sea of green. He cradled a bottle with the cricket carefully in one hand and consulted his field journal in the other, a smile on his face as he noticed Ghirahim beside him.

So calm he was, the night before a crucial, all-deciding siege. Normally, mortals would pace before a war, even the mightiest of generals anxious in the face of death. Lacking sleep, decreased appetites, heart rates skyrocketing, and pleasantries ‘round the camp dwindling to an all-consuming air of dread. Consuming all but Ghirahim, at least. Battle was his purpose, his joy. Nerves were just about the last thing on his mind.

And now, beside him, there was a man studying wildflowers like it was just another day. Ghirahim found himself jarred by just how much he understood him, then. So, an odd, tickling weight rolling about in his core, he kneeled beside him and watched along.

—

The night of their assault arrived quietly. A deep black sky, with stars shimmering like the facets of an onyx, served as the hiding blanket for hundreds of demons. On foot, the first wave of their army marched to the hills circling the Valley. Without Cia’s influence, the Valley appeared that much more tranquil. Heather grasses and saplings reared their heads timidly above healing soil, not knowing they’d have been better off staying below. In the epicenter of the Valley, hovering above a fog-stained cliff, was the Sorceress’ altar. Like swarms of ants, the alerted soldiers rushed their way to their posts, all eyes aimed at the hills where they would meet their match. Down the dozens of staircases, they ran, clinging themselves to every corner they could think to fortify, and then, lay in wait.

Beside Ghirahim, Zant was calm. He was without helmet, and would remain that way, it seemed. When Lana broke it back in the Gerudo Desert, it must have been gone for good. They had been spotted by a band of Hyrulean scouts much earlier, whose horses kicked up a concealing cloud of dust as they galloped to warn their commander of the impending ambush. But they would not know all – beyond the hills, many more Blins were waiting, and their aerial troops remained undetected. 

How eerily this first stretch of the battle resembled Zant’s exact plans.

In this initial quiet, before Zant could raise his hand and release the floodgates on their troops, Ghirahim pondered just how strange a situation he was in. Once again, he was at war, taking commands from a man other than his Master. For Cia, it had been the promise of Demise that had strung him along sufficiently enough to tolerate it. But Zant… By all means, he should hate this man. And he did, in a way, but the anger he felt no longer needed a vengeful release. 

They had shared a bed again. Hands wrapped lovingly, yet fiercely around his waist, his wrists, his throat, as if grasping onto his hilt. Ever since Zant had used part of him to behead the late Bulblin Earl, he’d been drunk on the feeling of being wielded. So he didn’t care anymore, how treacherous it felt to have a part of him presently thrumming in Zant’s zealous grip. He sensed death in the eyes of the man who wielded his so-precious shard, and like the starved hunting dog he was, he wanted to chase after it. There was blood to be spilled, power to be taken. As any legendary blade, Ghirahim lusted for his name to be chronicled. In the past, he had scarcely been remembered. This changed today.

Zant marched onward, and onward, and onward. Eyes set on nothing but his goal, he waded his way through the crowd as if it hadn't existed at all. Any soldiers that dared close in on him were repelled instantly by an unseen force, and those that did manage to push past, met their end by the instinctive lash of Ghirahim’s blades. The Demon trailed his false king like a shadow, as thoroughly under his dominion as all of darkness had ever been. His scimitar swung over his shoulder, he hadn’t drawn it even once, depending instead on his Blade to guard him differently. Their passage left a scar on the battlefield, of dead meat and soil. That was how they combed through the Valley, cleaving the crowd as they traversed the scattered islands that would lead them to their prize.

The only thing to shake Zant out of his enduring resolve was the first display of the Sorceress’ magic. A pale blue light appeared ‘round the corner of the Altar’s gates. From it, swinging its pincers fiercely, came a towering Gohma, scuttling its way directly to the pair of commanders.

Zant instantly zipped himself behind his lieutenant. A light, encouraging tap on his shoulder and a whisper, caught Ghirahim’s attention.

“Buy me some time.”

So he did. Ghirahim swerved around to the raging creature’s legs, jabbing his swords into its joints, to little more avail than slowing it down. Out of earshot, Zant had hissed an incantation, and though he hadn’t followed its words, Ghirahim knew the spell had been cast from the eerie chill that traveled to his every extremity. Piercing past the droning arcane hum from earlier, a screech and the flapping of wings prompted Ghirahim to get out of dodge as soon as he could. Once he had joined Zant’s side again, he could see a King Helmaroc, pecking the Gohma to bits.

They intended to slip past this distraction, but Lana wouldn't let them. Cyan lights broke past nearly every corner of the battlefield, massive shadows raining down from pillars of light. More and more monsters poured forth, pulled from corners of the past even Ghirahim could recognize. And though Zant made his best efforts by summoning beasts to their defense, Ghirahim yanked him out of focus before he could rip open his fourth portal. When he pulled back, the glove he’d covered Zant’s mouth with was smeared with blood.

Panting, wiping the thin streams of crimson that poured from his eyes and nostrils, Zant never took his eyes off the altar.

“This… This is incredible, Ghirahim,” he stammered, a mad grin on his face. “I can’t keep up.”

Ghirahim ducked behind him with a grin and ran through the first soldier who dared to approach. “Singing praises of our enemy now?”

Now, Zant drew his scimitar, hacking it into an ambushing Hyrulean in one clean swing. As Ghirahim faintly shivered with delight, Zant berated him. “Fool! Of course I do! That is the power I covet, that I deserve,” Zant snarled through his teeth, fending off soldiers by the dozen. His speech, his violence, equal in cold execution. “I was unflinchingly loyal to his cause, to him, and yet, Ganon kept everything to himself. Now that I have it all within my grasp… How can I not fawn over it?”

“You can save your fawning for when it’s actually within your hands, you lunatic,” pulled from his basking, Ghirahim bit back, spying trouble as the pair guarded each other's flanks. The monsters Zant couldn't keep up with were catching up. “And, for when we are not under the threat of these beasts! Collect yourself, and go!”

“No… No, not yet,” Zant yelled, flinching when an enemy blade bounced off his wards. “We are to mask ourselves in the chaos of these giants, and when we’ve kicked up enough dust… We will go straight to her.”

As if hearing of this plan, a last-ditch effort exploded from the north. The stone bridge connecting the Altar to the rest of the valley had collapsed.

Zant saw this and hardly batted an eye. Their troops, however, seemed far more alarmed. Bridge after bridge crumbled into the depths, some with their men still traversing, plummeting right along. The setback left their army with fewer and fewer routes to advance. Hyrulean and Blin numbers were almost even now, Ghirahim reckoned from their vantage point. And as their side was funneled back out through the remaining bridges, Ghirahim looked behind him.

Zant nodded. Taking a page out of the Hyruleans’ book, Ghirahim raised his fingers to the sky, and set loose a trail of diamond sparks. Strings of light whistled and twisted high, high up above, red and flashy among Lana’s still-bleeding portals. The reaction was almost immediate. Rushing forth from the hills, Blins cascaded onto the battlefield and rushed through the bridges still left intact. What was once intended for the escape of the invading forces, now simply funneled in more. Men were pushed off the bridges and trampled in the footfall, while a select few managed to die a dignified death amidst the senseless crowd.

Above them, the stars in the night sky seemed to flicker. A deluge of airborne demons rushed by them, undetected until crossing the threshold of the altar’s pale moonlit stone. Hyrulean soldiers were lifted off the ground, others eviscerated on the spot, all while a desperate few hacked and slashed with wild abandon in an attempt to defend themselves.

Chaos. Exactly what they were looking for. Another Gohma, almost fallen into the abyss, clambered back onto the cliff’s edge and made for the pair of commanders. Just as its pincer was about to bore into them, Zant grabbed onto Ghirahim’s wrist and pulled him into the shadows.

When they reappeared, Ghirahim looked around to find himself in the altar’s inner room, strewn with bookcases of which the contents were largely toppled. But before anything else caught his eye, there stood the Sorceress, hunched desperately before a scrying orb. She whipped around the second Zant’s transportation magic rustled behind her.

“Hello, Lana,” Zant said pleasantly. Lana glared back, placing one hand back on the crystal ball. The sight made Zant smile. “Oh, please. Do you think your precious Hyrule will be here in time? Who do you think they’ll send? A few little platoons? Clearly, they’ve already given you what they could afford. And those men are not holding out very well out there.”

His words were emphasized by the sounds of clashing outside. Soldiers yelling, screaming, the sound of arms hitting armor and lifeless bodies hitting the ground.

“This will take a minute, at most. Hold still, if you’d please.”

For a moment, Lana looked afraid, deathly so. But her courage gathered itself remarkably quickly, giving her the strength to turn around and shield her crystal ball behind herself. “ ‘Hold still’? Who do you think you are, you creep!?” she yelled. “How dare you come into this sanctuary and defile it, just as we worked so hard to recover it!”

Zant grinned at her, squinting his eyes the slightest bit. “That’s a funny thing to accuse me of, considering the dynamic here. Either way… Ghirahim, if you will.”

At once, Ghirahim launched himself at the Sorceress. The first slice of his sword she just barely managed to step back from, but not without drawing the slightest bit of blood from her collar. In response, Lana strengthened her wards – a shimmering layer of pale, iridescent blue flashed in view to cover her body. 

But the barrier would not save her from what was to come. As Lana became duly occupied with defending herself against the Sword Spirit’s merciless attacks, Zant began weaving his spell.

The first sentence was enough to make her flinch, but the second sent her into full-blown alarm. In her urgency, she ceased simply defending and instead attempted to push back against Ghirahim. She intended to break past him at all costs, and put an end to the words pouring from the Twilight King. Try as she might, though the whacks of thunder from her spellbook jittered Ghirahim down to the teeth, he would not let her gain even an inch on him. They were at a thorough standstill – one incapable of drawing blood, the other, finding a weakness but finding her enemy’s will too strong to overpower. All the while Zant kept chanting, and chanting, and chanting, the world around them not silenced, but rather, the three of them cast in a muffling cloak of darkness. But soon, Ghirahim would lose. Annihilation, his most precious weapon, failed him when he needed it most, and wouldn’t reward his wicked strikes with more than a nick past his opponent’s clothing. She truly was strong. Just a few more thundershocks and he would be brought to his knees, and with his Blade out of commission, Zant would not be able to defend himself against her.

He had to knock that grimoire out of her hand. The makeshift wards on her body protected her from the cutting edge of his sword, but the impact of his swings could still knock her off balance. 

Ghirahim didn't get the chance to just yet, though. Their sprawling army of demons found her little hideout. The lot of them crawled along the windows, claws dragging and fists pounding on the barriers. Were they to break through, the enemy commander would be overtaken in seconds.

Lana realized this too. She withdrew instantly, her grimoire snapped shut, and made for the only spot in the wall unoccupied by bookcases. She, of course, ran straight through. Had Ghirahim’s intuition not stopped him, he would have smacked face-first into it. One hand bracing against the stone barrier, he realized it would need a key phrase to grant him passage.

Or, as per Zant’s stroke of simple genius, simply blow the wall to smithereens. Powder-turned stone and pebbles blasting outward around him, Ghirahim burst through the rubble and sprinted after the first sight of cyan he could catch. Bouncing against the walls, masking her every direction in this endless maze, Lana recited her counter-incantation.

Behind him, Zant laughed at the challenge, weaving his spell longer and longer. Ahead of him, Lana’s rapid footsteps kept his prey drive red-hot. 

Run, run, but there’s no hiding from me. Along the floor, the thrum of Ghirahim’s core showed him the path the Sorceress had taken. He remembered these hallways perhaps better than she was aware of and, wagering a lucky guess at her meandering trajectory, he cut a few corners. He rammed solidly into her at the intersection. Just as he wanted, the grimoire went flying, and he placed himself between her and its landing spot.

Unfortunately for him, it didn’t render her powerless. But she did become weaker. The lightning she flung behind her as they resumed her chase was enough to hurt him, but not to slow him down. The little drops of blood he’d drawn that disappointed him before now worked as an irresistible lure, second to his expert dowsing. He could hear her breath, her heartbeat, and almost, every panicked thought as she tried to stall for enough time to think of a better plan than simply running and chanting with her heaving breath. Such was the power of that delectable fear! He had to have it. Closer, and closer, and closer he drew, his once graceful run now turning into a desperate, bestial sprint. She, the poor thing, was slowing, immortal in soul but human in guise. When even her last ditch effort, the casting of a lightning bolt point blank at his core, didn’t work, her desperation buckled her. Hands clawed, Ghirahim swiped for her.

At long last, he’d grabbed her, her arms locked in his elbows. Lana struggled fiercely, but no matter the power she borrowed, she couldn’t break free from steel of this caliber. How lucky she was, that his daggers couldn’t pierce her! Grappling fresh blood like this made him feel positively starved. 

Even then, he wouldn’t have been able to play for very long. Zant had carefully followed his blade, his every step haunted by the all-consuming echo of his voice. As that voice grew closer, the world became still around them. Colder. Twin breaths turned to foggy clouds as the pair of locked combatants panted, their eyes each glued on the hallway before them. Shadows poured around the corner, only to be drowned out by a pale blue light, hovering around the Twilight King like an aura. His eyes, normally golden, now carried that same ethereal hue. When he extended his hand, there was a cavity in his palm, the void of which made Ghirahim’s core spin just looking at it.

Lana struggled again, until she steeled herself. The incantations she’d failed to recite in their scuffle came back to the forefront of her mind, the first words passing her lips. Just one glance from Zant, and Ghirahim moved instinctually. He rushed his hand to her face, and stuck the point of his dagger against her tongue. Of course, none would think to place wards there. The Sorceress shrieked, but every movement of her head sliced deeper into her cheek, her lips, the inside of her mouth. Ghirahim shushing in her ear, she froze wide-eyed, her chest heaving up and down rapidly in breathing. Like a rabbit on a butchery table.

One more sentence and Lana began to writhe, groaning in pain. Zant stood before them, palm upturned. It was almost done – Ghirahim could feel it. It was practically in their hands. He couldn’t take his eyes off of the face hovering above them. All else disappeared. Not even the blood, that precious ambrosia that trickled from his dagger down his glove, could shake him from his mesmerization.

With those last words, the skies went dark. The rim of light once encircling Zant burst outward into shards, leaving only an endless dark that splattered across the walls like paint. It left them in a void; cold, and deafened, and unfeeling, just the three of them locked inside. Just the three of them, and the little golden triangle hovering between them. Lana wept in terror, in regret, in pain, while her two adversaries made no sound at all. For just a moment, childlike wonder sparkled in Zant’s eyes, before that little bit of innocent hope was throttled by an overwhelming flame of greed and vengeance. From having their treasure dance above his palm, he suddenly seized it, snatching it out of the air. 

With a deafening roar, like the sound of a mighty river rushing by overhead, the shadowy expanse around them imploded in on itself. Every inch of its fabric tore rapidly to one point: below Zant’s feet, sucked into his shadow. When the light returned to the hall again, there stood Zant, the same man as before.

The triforce now glowed on his palm.

But past that gently humming light, another sound caught their attention, now that the veil was lifted. War horns, far unlike theirs. Lana had stalled for enough time.

The second the both of them turned to the sound, Lana wrenched herself free. Though claws tore into her arms, and the dagger sliced through the corner of her mouth, she stumbled from Ghirahim’s grip and made for the light at the end of the hallway.

“Ghirahim-ili, how unlike you… Ah, well. I say let her run. She will be useless without this, anyhow,” he giggled, admiring the back of his hand.

But Ghirahim knew better. Eyes set on the desperately shambling woman, he aimed for her, hand outstretched, and snapped his fingers. A trio of daggers glistened in the light as they soared through the hallway, and thwacked into her back. Then he ripped back around, bound for his general in a steadfast march before the man could praise him – and it was a look of praise that colored his face – and snatched him by the wrist.

Yet Zant shook himself loose. His eyes blazed with unparalleled drive and fury. He glared down the still-stumbling Sorceress from afar, before clenching his fists. A throat-rending cackle ripped loose from him as his head was encased in shadows. Shrouded he was, then he was not, as particles of blackness burst outward to reveal a new sight.

Zant’s helmet. Once again perched on his shoulders, but entirely different. A wicked snarl was encased in the metal, and a finned collar encircled the reptilian face. At the peak of it all, a crown of horns declared him king. Now, Zant accepted Ghirahim’s so-hastily offered hand, and blinked the both of them outside the altar.

After just that split second, Ghirahim was jarred to find himself floating, high, high above the Valley, Zant’s fingers still lacing around his’. With a raise of his hand, and his triumphant, wet giggling still holding, he forced Lana’s portals to a close. One more wiggle of his fingers… that was all it took, and one by one, their troops disappeared from the battlefield.

Before Lana’s body could hit the ground, the two invaders were gone. Her efforts had been for naught. When the Hyrulean reinforcements finally crossed the foothills, the Valley was empty. 

[musings-of-a-rose]

Musings-of-a-rose's Fic Recs

Musings-of-a-rose’s fic rec list (never complete and always adding!)

This will always be a work in progress, as I will always be adding fics! 

If you need more and can’t wait for me to update, you can search on my blog for #fic rec and all of them will come up!

Frankie “Catfish” Morales:

Fix You by @astoryisaloveaffair

Howl by @astoryisaloveaffair

My Drug is My Baby (age gap) by @astoryisaloveaffair

Run Through the Jungle by @astoryisaloveaffair

The Bachlorette AU by @icanbeyourjedi

Sex Worker Frankie AU by @prolix-yuy

Still of the Night (Signs/Triple Frontier mashup) by @foli-vora

Trustworthy by @need-a-fugue

The Candyman by @hopeamarsu (this is a series but I’m linking chapter 1 here)

Oberyn Martell:

Burning Bright by @tropes-and-tales

And So We Sing in Elegies by @haildoodles-writing

Pero Tovar:

My Mercenary Bold by @astoryisaloveaffair

Petrichor by @rainontherooftops

Cathedrals of Our Own by @haylzcyon

The Cross by @blueeyesatnight 

Safe Haven by @marvel-and-mischief

Wedding Night by @absurdthirst

Zach Wellison:

You’re So Classic by @chaoticgeminate

Inn Over Your Head by @javierpinme

Max Phillips:

Take the Pain Away by @icanbeyourjedi

Dave York:

Baby, Let the Games Begin by @wyn-n-tonic

Maxwell Lord:

Shutterbug by @lowlights

What’s Love Got to Do With It by @storiesofthefandomlovers

Din Djarin:

Healer by @bestintheparsec

Marcus Pike:

Our Last Christmas by @supernaturalgirl20

Javi G:

Insatiable by @javierpinme

Hush by @javier-pena

Agent Whiskey:

Harder to Hold by @brandyllyn

The Traveler by @silksaddle

Marcus Moreno:

Yo Te Prometo by @marvelousmermaid

Here Without You Now by @wyn-n-tonic

Javier Peña:

Better Love by @disgruntledspacedad

It Takes Two by @icanbeyourjedi

Self Sacrifice by @albertasunrise

Into the Dark by @juletheghoul

Hermosa by @keala on Ao3

Joel Miller:

Days of You and Me by @wyn-n-tonic 

That’s a Real Fucking Legacy by @wyn-n-tonic

Dieter Bravo:

Disturbia by @astoryisaloveaffair

Win a Date With Dieter Bravo by @icanbeyourjedi

Simulated by @prolix-yuy

Teacher Ben (SNL):

Love, Wings, and Football by @icanbeyourjedi

Rainy Days by @chaoticgeminate

Well Read by @wyn-n-tonic

The Thief

Enigma by @javier-pena

Tim Rockford:

Apple Pie America by @rainontherooftops

Jay Castillo:

The Wedding Date by @icanbeyourjedi

Triple Frontier Boys:

The Audition by @astoryisaloveaffair

Santiago “Pope” Garcia:

The Best of Us by @a-bang-for-your-bucky

Benjamin “Benny” Miller:

I Got Away With You by @mermaidxatxheart

I’ll Be Your Brightside by @dameronscopilot

Only You by @albertasunrise

Timing Is Everything by @theewokingdead

Benergy by @theewokingdead

La Primera Fiesta by @marvelousmermaid

Looking For You by @green-socks

Commitment Issues by @coweye

Sunshine State by @brewsterispunkk

William “Ironhead” Miller:

Return to Honeymoon by @carni-val

Bucky Barnes “Winter Soldier”:

Paint Me a Memory by @mermaidxatxheart

My One and Only by @mermaidxatxheart

Almost Had Me Believing It by @tuiccim

Poe Dameron:

The Bet by @no-droids

The Art of Falling by @brandyllyn

Clint Barton “Hawkeye”:

Sure Shot by @astoryisaloveaffair

Rhett Abbott (Outer Range):

Sacred Oasis by @wyn-n-tonic

Selfish by @dameronscopilot

Lessons by @wyn-n-tonic

Tommy Miller (The Last of Us - HBO):

That’s a Real Fucking Legacy by @wyn-n-tonic

I’ll Have Another by @wyn-n-tonic

Violent Delights, Violent Ends by @ay0nha 

I Need You to Tell Me I’m Good by @psychedelic-ink

[melondaskelet0n]

NEW INTRO BLOG HERE YO!!!

please read this - Melon

Yo!! It's Melon here obvs-

Made this new introduction because I hated the old one augh, but anyways here we go..-

EDITED:

TO ANY PEOPLE WHO WRITE SMUT AND YOU SEE ME LIKE THE POST, I AM SO SORRY! I'M JUST TRYING TO SCROLL BUT PHONE LET ME SO I END UP LIKING UR STORIES ON ACCIDENT, I'M SO FUCKING SORRY

ABOUT ME!!!

Name: Melon/Meloub/Mel/Meli

Age: 14

Height: short

Gender: Female (Watermelon)/silly

Sexuality: Bisexual (+Poly)???

Relationship Status: Taken ( @darkcloudsatnight )

Status: Alive and Well

[WILL GET UPDATED]

INTERESTS!!!

-COD (MW, BLACK OPS, GHOSTS)

-TF2

-Dead Island 2

-Bendy and the Ink Machine

-FNAF

-Sonic The Hedgehog

- MK1 + MK11 + MKX

[WILL GET UPDATED]

FAV SONGS!!

-Dead Inside - JT Music (Dead Island 2 Song) <<<current top fav song

-Most Fashionable Faction - The Stupendium + Harry101UK

-Meet The Crew - JT Music

-RUNRUNRUN - Dutch Melrose

-Beauty Of Annihilation - Kevin Sherwood + Elena Siegman

[WILL GET UPDATED]

FAV GAME CHARACTERS!!!

-Tank Dempsey [Ultimus and Primis] (COD BO1-BO4)

-Soldier + Engineer (TF2)

-Shadow The Hedgehog (SONIC)

-Centurion + Warden + Lawbringer (FOR HONOR)

-Soap MacTavish (MW1-MW3) (Both OG + New)

-Alex Mason + Frank Woods (COD BO1-BO2)

-Keegan Russ (COD GHOSTS)

-Bonnie (FNAF 1-7) (all Bonnies apart from TB)

-Johnny Cage [MK1]

-Scorpion [MK1 + MK11]

[WILL GET UPDATED]

DNI!!

-Pedos

-Perverts

-Homophobics, Transphobics etc

-Z00s

-30+ (13-26 is okay just don't be weird pls!! I'm a minor!! and don't act weird if you are younger than me either by asking weird stuff etc)

[WILL GET UPDATED]

INTERACTIONS!!

-Any sexuality and gender

-13 to 26

-People who need a friend :3

-Anons (other Anons like magic Anons and etc are allowed!!)

-RP blogs

[WILL GET UPDATED]

THINGS U CAN DO!!

-Reblog

-DM me

-Send asks

[WILL GET UPDATED]

THINGS U CANT DO!!

-NSFW asks

-Harrassment

-Suggestive talking (aka being weird)

-Spam (it's okay if you spam by reblogging, just don't spam likes and comments pls!)

[WILL GET UPDATED]

THE END!!!

I will add more things to this intro blog sometime but otherwise I hope you all have a good day and stay safe :)

SONG RECOMMENDATION!!

If you haven't noticed, I really love this song hehe

[autocat5876]

THE MASKERS AU

hello hello! these guys came to me in a dream

the maskers are a subspecies of the lost ones and are different by their use of the comedy and tragedy masks. they tend to stick together in large groups in old places in the studio that would have once been highly populated, like a cafeteria or a theatre. as lost ones don't have much in terms of face to show their emotions, maskers use double sided masks (one side comedy the other tragedy) in order to show their moods, aggressive or passive. when the mask is on the comedy side, they are aggressive and will attack main character (either audrey or henry, i'm leaning more to henry at the moment) and will lock onto and attack then should they come near. they're used as a mechanic to prevent the mc from progressing through the studio in the incorrect order. when the mc has completed what they need to to properly enter the room the maskers are protecting, they flip their masks to the passive tragedy side, where they regain some humanity and the ability to speak and remember their pasts (something the comedy side doesn't allow). the mc can walk through the area peacefully and even interact with the maskers and talk to them if they really wanted to.

as for the masks themselves, they were created by wilson as a way to turn the lost ones into his willing peons and soldiers, but they didn't work and the masks were scrapped behind the old gent factory. a group of lost ones found them and put them on, causing the maskers to be born. the masks are flexible as they're. you know. made of ink, and that's how they can be flipped to either side and not look awkward.

i would love to hear any thoughts or feedback or ideas or anything! this is my first time posting an au or an oc or anything of the sort on tumblr so there's going to be a lot of updates as the time goes on.

(i'm thinking they could be a species for bendy the cage? but i've been keeping myself in the dark about that game so i can see it for myself when it comes out)

[veiledlinks-vn]

So I randomly stumbled across this and it looks really neat!! Are you still working on it? How are things going? It looks like the last update was around New Years, do you have any more news (even something small, if you don't have anything big)? I'd be super interested to hear!! (P.S. godspeed soldier, idk much about it but I know coding and game-making can be a huge task)

Oh, hello there! Thank you for your kind words. ;w;

Yup, I'm still working on it, the only reason progress is so slow is because real life has kept getting in the way, sadly enough. It's been many frustrations and disappointments these past months. If I'd had it my way, I would've finished a demo last autumn at the very latest.

We'll get there eventually, and I have to stop beating myself over it. I do apologise for the wait, though, and while it's not much, I still want to share what has been done since the last update:

Ryouken's part of the demo is in its final editing stage, so he's so close to being finished!

I found the last audio files I needed, and one of them was something I've searched a long time for, so that was a huge relief.

I've decided on how the cover images will look like and have sketched up one of them and started inking and painting the other.

I've managed to finish another CG, as well as make 3 sketches for Yuusaku's route. He still needs some proper planning with how many more branches he has compared to Takeru and Ryouken, but I'm having so much fun with it.

Future drinking games for players: take a shot every time Ryouken deems something as irrelevant, Yuusaku shrugs, or Takeru says "what".

I'm not sure how interesting the coding process can be, but I did some editing to the randomise function and now, it works splendidly while looking neater!

I promise coding is fun and not as complicated as it might look like!

That's it for now. Hopefully, the summer will be better than it was last year. Thank you again for stopping by, I appreciate it! ♥♥♥

[yumomia]

hi i've decided im gonna pioneer this ship and also this fandom.

so here's my mia and me spotify playlist

here's my pinterest board

here's my ao3 account

this ship has a couple different names. miyumo, yumomia, and my personal favorite: the sunrise trio!!

enjoy my rambling :D

(i'm updating this post whenever i get a miyumo hugging picture)

fics i write! i'll try to keep this updated!!

the rewrite:

escape (a mia and me series)

Mia has magic. She’s not sure why, or where it came from. Like every high-schooler, she’s a little bit preoccupied with figuring out her crushes first. Unfortunately, with the attacks on the mystical island of Centopia, she might not have time to focus on that. Mia has to figure out how to use her magic, and fast.

the non-rewrites:

there will come a soldier by oriocookie

A Yuko character study.

love should never be kept a secret by oriocookie

Mia Marconi, a.k.a. Spider-Girl, is Centopia City's fearless protector. She's strong, smart, kind, and brave, putting her life on the line daily to protect her family and her city. And Mo and Yuko, her crushes. But that's not important. She's got a whole city to worry about.

hold on tight to this time, this place (cause everything you know will be erased) by oriocookie

There's someone missing. Mo and Yuko know it, they can feel it when they turn to talk to someone and they're not there, when they try to think back on the specifics of their adventures and are met with a gap in their memories. They just don't know who.

i’ll love every version of you by oriocookie

Since she met them, Mia’s always been drawn to Mo and Yuko. She never could have imagined why. We will be together again. I promise.

absolutely smitten by oriocookie

Mia never, ever expected to see her celebrity crushes in person. And she never, ever, ever expected them to like her back!

but that’s just a theory! by oriocookie

Mia is, frankly, a weird person. She’s cagey about her past and while Mo and Yuko love her, they get curious sometimes! Can’t sue them for it!

enchanted by oriocookie

"You don’t get it!” Mia yelled, holding her arms close to her chest. On one wrist, her treasured bracelet. On the other, the names of her soulmates. Mo Kiev and Yuko Lavigne. “Mia, I do! But you can’t fall in love with the characters from your book!” Paula said. “I know they share the same names with your soulmates. But you said they don’t have names on their wrist, right?” Mia refused to give her the satisfaction of being right. But no, no one in Centopia had a soulmate. Not even her elven self had the names from the real world inked into her arm. “All we’re saying, Mia,” Vincent put in, “is that you should focus on the real world. You could have real soulmates out there.” “I can’t believe this.” Mia fumed. “I’m leaving.” 

strongest shape by oriocookie

Mo wound an arm around each of them, thankful for the low light so Yuko couldn’t see the blush spreading across his cheeks. “I’m glad Mia’s our friend,” Yuko muttered sleepily from her spot under Mo’s arm. “She’s nice.” “Yes, she is.” Mo agreed. “Pretty, too.” Yuko said softly, and Mo looked down at her in shock. But Yuko’s eyes were closed and her breathing was light, and Mo resigned himself to talking to the both of them about it tomorrow. Mia and Yuko were both amazing, and Mo didn’t want to choose between the two of them. But with Yuko’s half-asleep admission about Mia, there was now a new possibility: Mo could love them both, the same way.

[journeytothewestresearch]

12th-Century Sun Wukong

I was happy to learn that the Monkey Pilgrim (Hou xingzhe, 猴行者), Sun Wukong's antecedent, appears among a large set of late-12th-century ritual scrolls portraying the famed 500 Arhats. [1] He is depicted as a monkey-headed, black robe-wearing figure with the lower half of his body obscured by clouds, making him hard to see unless you zoom in on the image. He holds what appears to be the head of a staff in his left hand (fig. 1). Our hero is located just behind Tripitaka, who is riding a white horse led by a spirit-soldier(?) or perhaps Sha Wujing’s antecedent (fig. 2). The full scroll shows this scene happening above the heads of four arhats (fig. 3), indicating that the Tang Monk is considered to be one of these Buddhist sages.

I actually found the simian immortal by accident while researching an article about Tripitaka’s Buddha title. Dr. Meir Shahar tells me that this depiction of Monkey doesn’t appear to have been mentioned in previous JTTW scholarship (personal communication, June 3, 2023). [2] Therefore, I’m so very happy that I can share this discovery with my readers!

For more ancient depictions of Sun Wukong, please see my past article:

Fig. 1 – A detail of the Monkey Pilgrim (larger version). From Lin Tinggui and Zhou Jichang, Images of the 500 Arhats (Wubai Luohan tu, 五百羅漢圖, 1178-1188 CE). Hanging scroll, ink and color on silk. Image from Nara kuniritsu hakubutsukan, Tōkyō bunkazai kenkyūjo, 2014, p. 86. Courtesy of Dr. Liu Shufen, a research fellow at the Institute of History and Philology, Academia Sinica.

Fig. 2 – A detail of Xuanzang on his his horse (larger version).

Fig. 3 – The full scroll (larger version).

Notes:

1) To learn more about these paintings, see Zhou (2021).

2) Dr. Benjamin Brose tells me that the painting appears in a Japanese source, but the Monkey Pilgrim is only listed as an “ape-like figure” (personal communication, June 3, 2023). See Nara kuniritsu hakubutsukan, Tōkyō bunkazai kenkyūjo henshū, 2014, p. 86.

Sources:

Nara kuniritsu hakubutsukan, Tōkyō bunkazai kenkyūjo henshū [Nara University Tōkyō Research Institute for Cultural Properties (Ed.)]. (2014). Daitokuji denrai gohyaku rakan zu [Daitoku Temple’s Tradition of the 500 Arhats Paintings]. Kyōto: Shitau bungaku.

Zhou, Y. (2021). The Daitokuji Five Hundred Arhats Paintings and Their Beholders [Master’s dissertation, University of Alberta]. Education and Research Archive. https://era.library.ualberta.ca/items/f0bf436c-f6e5-46a2-920a-91c8b9dd5ba9

[imtrashraccoon]

And the winner is... Writing Requests!

Thank you to everyone who voted! ＼⁠(⁠^⁠o⁠^⁠)⁠／

So, I will be accepting up to five requests, depending how many of you are interested of course. (I may accept a few more though.)

Classic Papyrus Oneshot [Completed]

Doctor's Orders [Completed]

A Gentle Soldier [Completed]

[Open]

[Open]

I will write for any existing Undertale character, preferably those who have been in the fandom for a while or have easily accessible information so I can research them. I usually write Reader inserts (second person pov) but I can write OC's too.

The drabble will be at least 2,000 words but probably less than 3,000 words, depending on how much detail I end up going into.

I will not write:

Smut/graphic sexual content (I know a few of you are minors and I'm not comfortable writing that anyways.)

Anything endangering minors such as graphic violence or anything sexual.

Gore (Blood and injuries is fine, just nothing intense like torture.)

Incest, Sanscest, Papscest, or Fontcest. (You can ship what you like but I don't like any of these and I will not be writing them.)

Obvious kinks (I shouldn't have to list them all here but if they make me squirm, I am not writing them. Liking teeth or claws, pulling hair, or being slightly dominant in a situation are fine though.)

These are basic guidelines and I may add onto them if I realize I forgot anything. As much as it pains me, I cannot write everything and I have the right to reject your request if it makes me uncomfortable.

That said, I will write:

Reader x Character or OC x Character (I would prefer to write F/M as I am a female but I can write gender neutral too.)

Fluff (This is easily my favorite thing to write!)

Spicy (I also love writing this but I'm still new at it so no promises. Sex will be treated as a fade to black if you want that still.)

Frans or Soriel (I do ship these so long as everyone is consenting adults. I may consider other ships but no promises as I don't really ship any other non-canon pairings.)

Angst (I do like writing this, however, I can't promise it will be good. I prefer happy endings but if you want to see a character suffer, I can do that.)

I may also add onto this list if I remember something else. I have only ever written the Underfell brothers, some of the Classic brothers, G!Sans, and the Bad Sans' including Nightmare, Horror, Dust, and Killer.

I'm interested in writing Cross, Dr. Baggs, Dream, Ink, Error, Fresh, the Swapfell brothers, the Mafiafell brothers, the Underswap brothers, Farmtale, or various other interpretations such as cryptids, sirens, or different settings like a Western.

Have any questions about something not listed here? Please shoot me a message!

I'm doing this for fun but I want you to enjoy the process as well. No promises how long these will take to write as I'm generally pretty busy. I will update this post as the requests come in and unless you don't want me to, I will be posting these requests on my AO3 as well as on here.

Here's to a fun year! Thank you for reading this far if you did! (⁠つ⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠)⁠つ

[paramouradrift]

Hi!! I just read ur latest update. I'm being so serious when I say ur Pirate Prince series is one of my favorite stories I have ever read.

I was wondering if you had any sketches or any inspo pics of Zuko's new prison tattoos?? Poor Zuko has been through so much lately and I'm trying to keep an updated image in mind for him.

Thank you for your ask! I did have some sources that I kept in mind while I was developing how Zuko's tattoos would look. I specifically tapped articles like this one that describe tattooing in Japan and one of its historical uses as a form of punishment (like, I know Fire Nation culture is a blend of more influences than just the Japanese, but for me that is the one that looms largest and the one I am most comfortable messing around with). They are not supposed to be beautiful, but rather distinctive enough to communicate the nature and severity of the crime.

The camellia tattoo on his forehead isn't very big, and probably more closely resembles this chanel logo than what you might expect for a floral design, but fully shaded in red and not a chanel logo. I can't find the image I was originally thinking of at the moment but oh well, we make do.

The dash marks on his arms, etc, don't have a specific configuration or influence. Their purpose is to just be extensive enough that Zuko would have a hard time hiding them, since many Fire Nation clothes are revealing, and the ones that aren't appear to be uniforms (the school uniforms in The Headband, Fire Army soldiers, etc) or status symbols (the royal family, Piandao, Mai's family - the rich can afford cool houses where they can wear out their silks without suffering heat strokes). I guess if you imagined Killmonger's scarification, but blank ink marks instead of raised scars, that would visually be within the same ballpark.

The three-strike bands have rl historical analogs, but those would be higher up the arm instead of starting at the wrists. Same style, otherwise, and serving the same purpose: this guy's three strikes are up, and if you arrest him you can kill him without consequences. So Zuko is in trouble if he runs afoul of Fire Nation law again, and he knows it.

Anyway, punitive tattoos fell in and out of use in the real world, and the same is true in the Pirate Prince. So far Zuko is the only person we have seen who has them, but if he keeps his current standard of company we may see others.

Hope this helps!

[pastryland]

piarles completed fic recommendations

If any of the authors of the fics mentioned here or are tagged and don't want their fics to be here, please let me know and I'll remove it!

Will update this list periodically

❤️ = favorite

⭐️ = I love fics by this author in general

❌ = triggering themes

🔥 = explicit

The World We Knew - 24k - ❌

Charles' career is failing and his dreams are slowly drifting further and further out of reach. Desperate times call for desperate measures but he would have never guessed that all of this mess would bring him back to the one person who's been haunting his dreams for the past four years. AKA Charles is an escort and Pierre works for the mafia. Somehow, the universe brings them back together but she doesn't treat them kindly.

induction, consolidation, maintenance - 6k - ❤️ ❌

In which Charles is sick, Pierre is desperate, and he wishes he didn't have to do what he's doing to pay for Charles to have a chance.

Almost Total Wreck - 2k - ❌ 🔥 - also has Charles/Carlos

He imagines telling Pierre about it: he spat right in my face and I came like that it was so good, and he’s already replacing the man’s orgasm with his own, making his wounded sounds as he drags it out kicking and screaming, so that by the time he’s done his stomach hurts with it, his head pounds like a fever, more ache than pleasure but that’s what pleasure is, isn’t it?

Fool For You - 6k

"How am I supposed to ask a boy out? Pierrot, you know I can't flirt." Pierre rolls his eyes fondly. "Yes, Charlito, I know that very well. You'd need to find someone who you know isn't straight… someone you know already so that you aren't awkward around him." "What if… Pierre, what if you took me on a date?" - Charles is straight. Straight as in having-a-girlfriend-for-three-years straight. At least, that's what he's been telling himself until now. But lately he's not been so sure anymore. Luckily for him, he has a best friend who's willing to help.

the bells that can still ring - 9k - ❤️ ❌ 🔥

Charles hasn’t written to Pierre since three months before the war ended. His last letter was mud-stained, inked black by the censors, hopelessly out of date. Pierre had opened it knowing, as he did every time, that he might be reading the words of a dead man. But the hammer blow—a letter from Charles’s mother; a casual word from a fellow soldier at a cafe—had never come.

like a story told by the fault-lines and the soil - 5k - ⭐️

“I am not a tourist,” Charles protests, as the bartender dips under the bar. “I am visiting a friend.” The bartender reemerges with a can of beer, the little mountains on its side blue with cold like in the advertisements, and sets it in front of Charles. “Lucky friend,” he says casually. He pours two shot glasses of whiskey, one for each of them. “I’m also not going to sleep with you,” Charles replies, raising his shot glass carefully. “I am in love with somebody already.” The bartender’s eyes are a deep brown, laugh-lined and maybe even a little sad all at once. He has a number 3 tattooed on the little finger of his right hand, the one picking up the shot glass, and a rose tattooed on the other. He’s beautiful. Charles is not too in love to notice.

perpetuity - 7k

Pierre doesn’t dream often, but when he does, they’re more like nightmares.

[drjoneslabratory]

The Splatoon rant The franchise that won't leave my brain alone: 1 the biggest nitpick/issue I have with this franchise.

(Before you read, this is my opinion and this is just me rambling. Don't take it too seriously, I didn't as there are probably typos and grammar issues but ill fix it later as its lunchtime here and I am hungry.)

Anyways...

Splatoon is one of those franchises where it has something so strong that I can't stop thinking about it/draw ocs/write AU lore for it. I haven't touched it in ages as Its still in a box and I have drift. But I still think about it/listen to music, consume fancontent and still read the lore and think of the gameplay.

For years I had this Splatoon fps game I always wanted to play. I have thought about it, and drawn ocs/enemies/bosses/factions/guns for over seven years. (I am soon to show this wacky fandom one day)

Ever since playing Splatoon 2, the squid-to-kid ink mechanic has fascinated me. It's on the same level as the gravity gun/portal gun and the grappling hook/titans from Titanfall in terms of creative innovation in the shooter genre. Despite me having issues with the campaign and story etc. There is nothing like it (foam stars don't count) The multiplayer (of all games), is the most fun I had with a multiplayer pvp game since Titanfall 2 and I think one of the few multiplayer PVP shooter games that is casual and non-competitive focused. And more importantly not a gritty tactical mil-sim/cod clone or generic "not overwatch/Fortnite clone number 10000" It's its own thing, and it does it really well.

Everything is unlockable in the game, there are no microtransactions. No season passes and once in a while simple updates keep it fresh. and not make it repetitive for a concept that seems it be a trap for boring repetitive gameplay.

There are DLCS, but they are worth the price for the content you get. Octo Expansion/Side orders are full-on expansion packs.

Splatoon brings me back to a time when shooter games were focused on simple fun and had a gameplay loop that people wanted to spend hours on.

Splatoon Proved to me (personally) that those games are still possible. And maybe the issue with modern AAA gaming is that Gamers have unrealistic expectations and developers and publishers trying to find new ways of laundering money/investment to appease stockholders.

(seriously am I the only one who is concerned with hearing new articles about the alleged "Most expensive game ever produced every once and awhile, there is no way that is sustainable, especially with these live service games that keep popping up like fruit flies and then die, or showing signs of decay)

The thing, I think bothers me most about Splatoon, is that, I really, I mean this, don't like the single-player campaigns, more particularly the Main Octo-trooper enemies you fight in every goddamn game. Because they are just so... boring and not fun (To me at least). It pains me, really fucking does as Splatoon is capable of having fun Enimies (the Octoling soldiers (though I think have issues, but they are a solid starting point I wish they expanded on) and Salmonoids (god they are so fucking awesome) and whatever the robo fish bots are called in side order)

My main issue with the octo-troopers is that

Boring that most Octo troopers just kinda stand there and then move around. acting more like turrets than soldiers

not really threatening/poor readability of what you are fighting, I am not saying their being goofy is bad, in fact, the weirdness of Splatoon enemies (all of them) is what I think makes it unique, and what it is, but I feel like there comes A point where they are just "Too Goofy" and I think it can hinder combat encounters and can confuse the player on what enemy you are fighting. An example of Good/bad execution of this is

The Octosniper and Commander are my examples of "Goofy done right" and "threatening enemy you need to pay attention to" They fire their guns out of their mouth and have "out there" proportions and designs, One has cool sunglasses the other a peeping eye. but I also get the idea, that these are trained soldiers who were trained to shoot to kill and won't hold back. So I have to be careful around them or I am a goner.

For goofy done wrong, I think I can make the argument that I think the Octobomber and rocket Octotrooper enemies are A prime example.

I fucking hate these assholes, I moved them around Poorly to prove a point that, I can't tell which one is which from afar and often mistake one for another. doesn't help one has a more powerful attack and takes up more hitpoints. The only thing that separates them is easily missable and I think lazily done addition to their helicopter helmet.

Now back to the examples.

Most don't really use the main gimmick of the games (squid-to-kid ink mechanic The Octostamps and Squee-Gs don't count) What I mean is how the ink mechanic can affect combat encounters and I think (As far as I remember) only a few really "take advantage" of Splatoon gimmicks, I really like the shielded octo-troopers as they capture gimmick you are using ink as your main projectile type. you can blind them and have them freak out giving you an easy shot. The octopods glitch out and fly back causing an explosion of your own ink if defeated, creating huge ink puddles. Octodivers try to flank you by hiding in their own ink.

Most feel like obstacles then actual enemies The Tentakooks are a good example, mostly just item holders and nothing really else. Same with octo ballers. Most just try to cover large areas of ink with their own, which isn't bad, but feels like most enemies, most don't really do much.

Don't feel like A real army or "Bad guys" (I get its lore point, but from a gameplay view, They feel so incompetent compared to the Octoling soldiers and bosses heck I question why Mr Grizz would choose them over the Salmonoids (I, am glad I am not alone with being disappointed with Splatoon 3 campaign)

(this one is gonna rustle some jimmies, but don't take this the wrong way) The fact is all the Octoling soldiers you fight, use the same model and they all look the same and have no differences. I get it everyone loves the lesbian child soldiers but I think it wouldn't hurt if there was a male model (and there was a male model originally) or at least had different skin tones. (at first, I thought they were all clones, but apparently, they are all different people, I am sorry but I find it hard to believe Marina, agent 8, and Acht were in the same army when they all look the same no matter what rank, including 8 if you make yours a guy and not white) But the fact some have different weapons with different combat styles the elite's only difference is their black hair with seaweed.

I am sorry but when I am shooting trying not to die, I don't know which Octoling is holding which, and the fact it's third person really handicaps my focus. At least the elites have glowing green seaweed but if you removed that, you couldn't tell which one is the elite. I am trying my best to not come across as "There needs to be more boys, girls are icky" but I wish there was more diversity/readability for the Octoling soldiers, I really wish they were the main enemies you fought. If I were to do it. Id make them a mesh between the elites from halo or HECU from black mesa and Zombie Marines from doom the Gunners from fallout 4. There is this mod I have for Black Mesa that adds female/more diverse HECU soldiers. its random every time, but it makes combat/readability so much better. If I am in a combat section with them, I can now easily tell witch ones witch, who is holding witch weapon, witch one is coming to get me and how do I respond.

The elites and Marines from Doom are the perfect example of a "Readability" Zombie marines have a rifle and are slow firing meant to pepper you, the Sargent/shotgun zombies are the upper class meant to keep you aware as one shot at low health and your dead, The chain gunners are the beefy "wake up call" as they have a repeating hit scan attack causing players to be aware of how they move in a area and giving them a target to kill before the other demons. For the new ones "The shock troopers" in the recent expansion "Legacy of Rust" are An upgrade from regular Marines having a plasma rifle attack that they can spam blocking areas and keeping people focused. The gunners from Fallout 4 are not really that special they are just reskinned raiders with a military gimmick, but they provide a good example of the thing Fallout 4 I Like, make every human enemy you fight have a rank/variation, and each gunner though having a template/variation, you feel like you are fighting a skilled solider of that rank and they are unique/different enough, you feel like you're not fighting the same enemy over and over again.

The elites are so barebones and simple, but so effective, in CE, the upper-ranked elites are just a color swap with a weapon change at the top.

This a good video on the topic as it does it better than I can ever do I know these are not the types of games, I assume most splat fans play (I'll provide links and context later on if anyone is interested)

I know that this is a Nintendo game and demographics blah blah blah I'll I'm asking for is little more creativity and I wish that the single-player campaign was given more attention and life as the multiplayer I really think the default campaigns are just not really fun to be honest.

I don't wanna say it's bad or mediocre, as when they have their high points and when you fight the bosses the campaigns start to shine. I say this as a Galaxy fan, but I don't like how they're just islands and feel more like tutorials than actual levels and feel more like cut levels from Mario Galaxy than its own thing.

I am not trying to bring up lore or anything as this is going on long enough and I have a lot to say about the lore.

If you read this far, thank you, know, this is my opinion, and you're not invalid for thinking otherwise, I am just a nerd who likes shooter games and I really like Splatoon, and I feel like it can be even better than it is!

[saltygirafe]

Waiting on an update at work so I figured I might as well introduce my Tav properly! Spoilers for my Shadowheart fic, if you care, below the cut!

Verena * High Half-Elf * Tempest Cleric of Selûne * Soldier

Verena Mournbarrow is a Tempest cleric of Selûne with a broken past. She's direct and kind without being overbearing, but she's not the best at using her words, often having to default to threats of violence to get through.

She has a soldier background, giving her a wider range of weaponry and combat knowledge, but very limited social skills.

She's a leader by habit and necessity, using her imposing presence to assert authority over more stubborn companions(Lae'zel), despite their vocal disagreement at some(most) of her decisions.

Used to be a Chosen of Talos, as one of his stormlords roaming the land sowing chaos and destruction

Originally, her parents were Zhentarim traders who were killed in a Talossian raid of the trade route they were using. She was in their cart, and they took her in as a trophy

When she showed aptitude with Talos' domain, he took interest in her and gifted her more and more power

She realized the truth of what had happened during the first raid she was leading on her own.

She immediately turned on her peers, understanding that they had killed her family, and raised her in a lie

After she killed so many of his faithful, Talos disowned her of his blessing, cursing her with his eternal wrath. She would never again be safe in a storm, he would always find her, and when she found something to care for, he would destroy it in front of her.

He struck her in the back with a bolt of lightning, branding her body with his telltale scars.

Selûne came to her that night, helping to soothe her wounds. She offered her a way to continue living, on her own path, and Verena took it.

She swore to change, to undo the wrongs she'd been carved into. For years, she had to fight her instincts to destroy, trying to escape the thrive of power that came from pure chaos, and the comfort she'd come to find in it.

She still struggles with it today, wondering if part of Talos' curse doesn't also involve something deeper than the weather.

Some more details:

Her left eye was tattooed black in a rite of passage. Talos is a one-eyed god, and she chose to be branded in his image when she was younger.

After leaving his church, she added the skin tattoo in order to distance the symbolism from Talos himself. She had the ink go over most of her left side in order to cover part of the scars he left her with as well.

I created her to be a foil for Shadowheart. She's already been through a journey similar to what Shadowheart(and most of the companions)go through in the game i.e. being molded by external and powerful forces, only finding her true self once she realized and walked away. But she still struggles with parts of her own journey, and echoes of it influence how she interacts with the others as they reach their own turning points

She's afraid of storms

When Talos took away his blessings, she lost most of her magic, having to start again from the ground up. She's afraid to rely on her affinity with storms, knowing they're under Talos' domain and he could turn it all against her at any time, but her own connection to tempests was never truly severed. It's always there, right under her skin, waiting to lash out now that she lacks control over it.