#in which anubis commentates on the dash

[residenthesitant]

fic writer interview!

Snagging from @definitelynotshouting because I loooove talking about my fics lol

How many works do you have on AO3?

between my two accounts and including all my anonymous fics, i have published 115 fics since 2014. if we're only counting ones visible on the residenthesitant and hesitantresident pseuds, 58. 

What's your total AO3 word count?

Again, counting both accounts, it's 630,517 words total. On RH alone, a whopping 498,925. jesus christ. i did not think it was that much.

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

With the ones just on RH/HR, they are:

Look at the World So Close (And I'm Halfway To It) (DSMP) - 1,777 kudos

Like Begets Like (DSMP) - 405 kudos

END PRINCE LEARNS TO BE NICE (NOT CLICKBAIT) (OSMP) - 314 kudos

That Bitch is Back (& We're Gonna Have A Chat) (DSMP) - 258 kudos

Static (Danger Days: True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys) - 219 kudos

honestly, im kinda surprised by this one. i fully thought there'd be at least one of my anon fics in here. wild.

rest of this is under the cut!

Do you respond to comments?

I try to respond to comments, but have had difficulty in the past. most often i do because i want to talk about behind the scenes stuff.

What's the happiest ending you've written?

I prefer happy/bittersweet endings,  but I think my happiest is world so close, since it basically has a fairy-tale happily ever after to it.

Do you write crossovers?

Nah. I'll do AUs, and maybe there's some crossover due to the nature of the MCYT fandom, but I largely keep characters in their own casts. It feels weird to put them elsewhere.

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

No, but someone did delete a nice comment once, which was kinda weird lol

Do you write smut? What kind?

i did kinktober last year! if "toxic fucked up manipulative puppetduo sex" is what this means by "kind," thats generally what i do. i uh. i wrote 1/3rd of the fics in that tag. so.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not officially, but I joke that the writers of the Homestuck Epilogues stole part of one of my fics to write about how dirk felt about his own death. The fact that they read exactly the same means that I Understand the character ig.

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Yes! World So Close started a collaboration with my beloved friend Jinx but largely fell to me when they got too busy. I also have a couple Frantic Fanfic collabs and a co-written zine piece coming up.

What's your all-time favorite ship?

Very hard question. I don't think I have an All Time Favorite out of all the fandoms I've been in, but if we go by fav per fandom, they'd have to be dirkjake (homestuck), a rotating selection of c!eret ships though I am extremely fond (understatement) of dreameret (dsmp), shadowgast (critical role: mighty nein), zoethian (yogscast), and a PC/PC romance from my dnd game.

What's a WIP you want to finish but don't think you ever will?

sighs. For Every Failing Sun. it says its marked as complete because i have the rest of the plot in not!fic form, but the fact of the matter is that i dont think i'm gonna get around to completing it unless the danger days hyperfixation grabs me again.

What are your writing strengths?

Dialogue all the way. if i dont have a character voice right, i will simply perish

What are your writing weaknesses?

i will use the same words and phrases within two paragraphs of each other and then miss it in the edit, and i'm a fiend with an em dash. take those things away from meeeeeeeeeee

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

this one doesn't really come up for me, though i get a little annoyed when it's worked in very clunkily. dark shout out to 14 yr old me doing this with a tumblr snk fic.

What's the first fandom you wrote for?

Unofficially, Peter and the Starcatcher when i was 7, hand-written. Officially, House of Anubis on the nickelodeon message boards circa 2011.

What's a fandom/ship you haven't written for yet but want to?

I want to maybe write a perc’ahlia fic sometime soon? Depends on how the mood takes me? Like, I've officially now written for critical role, but perc’ahlia seems like the next step. Only took 8 years of being in the fandom for the blorbofication of Percy de rolo to happen. It's kinda funny, I've been a fan of shadowgast for so long but have never felt the need to write for them. It just hasn't felt necessary. 

What's your favorite fic you've written?

this one's easy. It almost certainly has to be bring a little rust, slow the gears, which i, coincidentally, wrote for TJ for a fic event! genuinely one of my favorite things i've ever done, i'm extremely proud of it and it has some of my favorite c!eret dynamics at the forefront. OTHERWISE, it'd have to be Le Roman de la Couronne, which is a c!punz/c!eret courtly love au, which really just means i spent 33k infodumping about medieval and elizabethan literary tradition, with blorbos on top of it.

anyone who wants to do this, say i tagged you. i love when people talk about their own shit. ok love u bye

[viking-raider]

Seals of the Lost - Chapter I

Summary: You and Henry cross paths, and the truth behind the disc Henry has is revealed.

Pairing: Henry Cavill/Reader

Word Count: 8,080

Warning: PG - RPF, Language, Magic, Stalking, Deception, Death, Light Bullying

Inspiration: This comes from several sources. XD

Author's Note: Thanks to @wondersofdreaming for her wonderous Beta skills and helping me world build and world out my idea for this story!

Tag List Blog: @viking-raider-taglist

After nearly a week of searching for information on the disc that came in the box his mother sent him, Henry finally found someone in central London, with a doctorate's degree in archaeology, that could potentially shed some light on what it was, and drove out to meet them.

“Mr. Cavill?” The archaeologist asked, coming out of his office.

“Yes.” Henry replied, politely extending his hand.

“I'm Dr. Rick O'Connell II.” He introduced himself, shaking Henry's hand. “It's a pleasure to meet you.”

“Likewise.” Henry nodded, smiling softly.

“Your message said, you had a strange little artifact in your possession and would like to learn anything you could about it.” Dr. O'Connell said, showing Henry into his spacious and bright office.

“Yes, sir. I do.”

Henry confirmed, his eyes going to the glass cases, picture frames and artifacts hanging around Dr. O'Connell's office. The small spark inside of Henry that had once wanted to be an Egyptologist and Historian, before becoming an actor, flared to life as he approached one of the tall glass display cases, filled with artifacts from Egypt and a few that looked to be from Asia; one of which was a pale stone and gold jar with the head of Anubis.

“Beautiful, isn't it?” Dr. O'Connell smiled, seeing Henry had been drawn to it, many people often were. “My grandparents were on the expedition that uncovered them.” He commented, stopping beside Henry.

“Seriously?” Henry replied, shaking his head and blinked at Dr. O'Connell with surprise.

“Yes.” Dr. O'Connell nodded, proudly. “My father, Alex, named me after my grandfather. My grandparents met shortly before the expedition and fell in love during it, married, and had him. They made a life of it and these are some of the artifacts from their expeditions together.”

“The others are from yours?” Henry asked, moving to another case.

“Yes, they are.”

Henry stared at the other objects for a moment longer, before turning towards him. “I'm sorry, I came here to talk to you about my object and I'm busy gawking at yours, like a schoolboy on a field trip.” He chuckled and blushed, quite abashed.

“It's quite all right.” Dr. O'Connell laughed, motioning towards a chair in front of his desk, before taking his own behind it. “So, let's take a look at what you have, Mr. Cavill.” He said, holding his hand out over his desk.

“Yes, right.” Henry nodded, taking the disc out of the protective pouch he had put it in and handed it over to him.

Dr. O'Connell frowned at the disc, turning it over in his hands as he observed it. “Well, I can tell you it's made of granite.” He said, pulling open a drawer in his desk to remove a small tape measure, then set the disc on his desk and took measurements of it. “Thirteen centimeters by thirteen centimeters.” He stood up next and crossed the room and gently laid the disc on a padded scale.

“And just under a kilogram in weight.” He returned to his desk and sat down, pulling out a magnifying glass next. “This symbol is quite strange.” He commented, holding the magnifying glass up to it.

“I was thinking the same thing.” Henry agreed with him, biting his lip as he watched him examine the disc. “It looks like some strange lizard.” He commented on it.

“Yes, a lizard.” Dr. O'Connell agreed, looking up from the magnifying glass and disc, in thought. “A dragon.” He nodded, looking back down at it. “A dragon's head, breathing out fire.”

“Does that mean something?” Henry asked, licking his lips and feeling his heart start to pound.

Dr. O'Connell set the disc and magnifying glass down. “There's this ghost story you hear, if you're in my line of work long enough, especially if you're out in the field digging around. My dad told it to me once, when I was a lad.” He started to explain to Henry, leaning back in his chair and staring out the large wall of windows to their left, with the muffle of traffic coming through from below.

“There used to be this group of people, an ancient civilization, that believed, heavily, in Dragons. It was said they were real-”

“The people or the Dragons?” Henry asked, lifting a brow at him.

“Both.” Dr. O'Connell chuckled at him. “As I was saying, they were real, and these people and Dragons lived together, as one. They supposedly did everything together and held highly sacred bonds to one another, giving the people powers, the ability to do magic, long life and many other things.”

“But, their main task, they kept the world at peace.”

“So, what happened to them?” Henry asked, shaking his head, not completely believing him, but enthralled by the story nonetheless.

“No one knows.” Dr. O'Connell shrugged. “There are theories. But, very few things have ever been found about them. I could fill a shoe box with what's been found on them. Most of what we know has been a story from an odd book or scroll, mythology or lore from some culture all across the world, pieced together. A few dusty unexplained bones that some scholar, archaeologist or theorist thinks belong with them.”

“Do you think this has to do with them?” Henry frowned, his brow pinched in conflict.

Dr. O'Connell rubbed his face, twisting back and forth in his chair, and stared at the disc. “I'm not sure.” He replied, honestly. “But, something in my gut tells me otherwise.” He admitted, letting out a huff of air.

“Is it all right if I take some photos of it, Mr. Cavill?” He asked, lifting a brow at him.

“Of course, anything to help you identify what it is.” Henry nodded, eagerly.

Dr. O'Connell removed his mobile from his pocket and snapped several photos of the disc. “I'll contact some of my colleagues and send them the photos, see what they have to say about the artifact and what we can find out about it.” He said, picking it up and holding it out to Henry. “Once, and if,” He laughed, smiling. “we come to a conclusion on what it is, or isn't, I'll give you a ring and tell you.”

“I would really appreciate it.” Henry replied, taking the disc and tucking it back into its little pouch, before standing up and extending his hand out to Dr. O'Connell again. “Thank you.” He smiled, squeezing his hand.

“Have a good day, Mr. Cavill.” Dr. O'Connell smiled back.

“You as well.” Henry replied, before parting ways with him.

Dr. O'Connell moved over to his windows and watched the street below, chewing on his bottom lip until he saw Henry appear in the crowded sidewalk and turn down the street towards the parking garage he had parked his car in, then turned back towards his desk, grabbing his coat off the back of his chair.

“Molly, I'm going out.” He called out to his secretary, rushing down the hall towards the elevators.

Riding the lift down to the main floor, O'Connell rushed onto the street and the opposite way Henry had gone, frantically dialing a number on his mobile, before pressing it to his ear. “It's Rick O'Connell.” He said, when the line picked up. “You told me to call you, if I ever found anything that looked Dragonic.”

“Have you?” A raspy, deep voice replied on the other end of the line.

Dr. O'Connell pulled his mobile away from his ear and sent the connected number the photos he took of Henry's disc, then put the phone back to his ear. “I'm pretty sure.” He replied, out of breath.

“Do you have it with you?”

“No. I wasn't sure if it was the real thing or not. So, I let the guy that brought it to me, take it back with him.” He explained, getting a sick feeling in his stomach, stopped in his tracks and turned around, but didn't see anything behind him, but Londoners going about their daily business. “I can contact him and get it back, if you like?”

“That's not necessary, Dr. O'Connell.” The voice replied, their tone never changing. “Just give me their name and I'll take care of the rest.”

“His name is Henry Cavill.” Dr. O'Connell informed the voice, before the line went dead.

The air in the small meadow was cool and shaded by the clustered ring of trees that surrounded it, as a soft breeze stirred the short stemmed wild flowers in the tall grass, before a shimmering blue light glowed softly in the center of it, and a moment later, with a small rush, you stepped through and the glow dissipated.

You sighed, rubbing the glowing mark on your forearm, before pulling your sleeve down to cover it. A bark filled the air, before a massive black and white dog came tearing into the meadow through the trees and right up to you, his long pink tongue hanging out the side of his mouth.

“Hey, there.” You smiled at him, as he barked several times and ran several circles around you. “You're a playful, little guy.” You chuckled at him, bending over to pet him as he came up to you, but turned sharply and ran off again. “Oh, you faked me out.” You roared, thoroughly amused by the dog's antics.

“Kal!” A deep voice shouted through the trees in the direction the dog had come from.

“Is that your name?” You asked, turning to see the dog busy going number two. “Kal.”

“Oh, hello.”

You looked away from Kal and faced the owner of the voice. “Hi, I'm guessing this is your dog.” You said to him, motioning behind you.

“Yeah. Kal, are you bothering this nice lady.” He asked the pup, a feeling of shy apprehension in his chest as you looked him over, waiting for your brain to click and realize who he was and start freaking out, asking for a photo and autograph from him.

“Oh, not at all.” You replied, chuckling as Kal ran up to you again, actually letting you pat him on the head this time, before dashing over to his owner.

“I'm Henry, by the way.” He introduced himself, with a sweet smile, realizing you either didn't recognize who he was or you were being polite enough not to freak out on him.

“Pleasure to meet you, Henry.” You replied, offering him your own name.

“I don't think I've seen you around before.” Henry commented, tilting his head at you. “Then again, I have just moved in a couple of months ago.” He blushed, biting the corner of his lip.

You chuckled at him, brushing your fingers through your hair. “I live just across the way.” You said, pointing in the opposite direction of the trees. “Welcome to the neighborhood.” You greeted him.

“Thanks.” Henry smiled at you, leaning down to rub Kal's ears. “What are you doing out here?” He asked, motioning around the meadow.

“Oh.” You blinked around the meadow, grasping for a reason. “I went to the little park that's nearby and dropped my house keys.” You grinned, giving off the vibe that you felt like a complete idiot for your mistake. “I've come looking for them, when I ran into your adorable pooch.” You said, looking at Kal.

“Do you need any help looking for them?” Henry offered, politely.

“I would hate to put you out.” You said, shaking your head at him, gulping.

“It's no issue at all.” He replied, shaking his head back at you. “It's not like I'm not going back that way.” He chuckled, tilting his body in that direction.

“Shit.” You mumbled under your breath, then flexed your fingers at your side, like a wave, and the mark on your forearm warmed. “I suppose an extra pair of eyes would make the task go faster.” You giggled, biting your lip and berating yourself for not being more careful.

“Never hurts.” Henry grinned at you, laughing as Kal jumped up on him, putting Henry's forearm gently in his mouth and tried to pull him down. “Come on now, Bear. Let's help find her keys.” He said to him, wrangling his arm out of Kal's mouth and corralled him through the trees, where there was a small dirt path that edged around the ring of trees and his property.

“So, where did you move here from?” You asked, eyes glued to the ground in your key search.

“London.” Henry replied, his own eyes searching the tall grass at the edges of the path. “So much of my life is busy, fast paced and noisy, I just wanted a nice and quiet place, where I could go, that was relatively secluded, so I could relax and decompress.”

“I can understand that.” You nodded, licking your lips and glancing over at him. “There's something about having your own little world. A place to yourself, so you can be yourself, without the worry of others judging you and disrupting your peace.”

Henry paused and looked over at you, dumbfounded that you had nailed precisely how he felt about why he moved out of London and into the English countryside. “Exactly.” He replied softly, blinking and licking his lips, his heart pounding.

“Ah-ha!” You exclaimed, seeing the glint of sunlight on the silver ring key ring and hooked your finger through it. “Found them.” You grinned at Henry, holding them up for him to see. “Thanks for helping me.”

“No problem.” He smiled back at you, even though it didn't quite meet his blue eyes. “Um,” He bit his lip and glanced over his shoulder. “Would you like a cup of coffee or maybe some tea?” He asked, looking back at you, with a brow lifted in hope.

“I just live right there.” He said, pointing a thumb to the two story house behind him.

You looked between Henry to his house, then glanced down as Kal barked and bumped into your legs, like he was begging you to take his owner's invitation. Letting out a soft chuckle, you reached down and scratched Kal's back, making his back leg go wild.

“Sure, a cup of tea sounds nice.” You replied, looking up at Henry, kindly.

“Cool.” Henry grinned, relieved and excited.

The pair of you crossed his backyard and stepped onto his patio, before Henry politely excused himself and rushed through the sliding glass door into his house, leaving Kal to entertain you for several minutes, while he threw together a cup of coffee for himself and a mug of tea for you. He brought them out, setting down a little thing of sugar and creamer, unsure how you took your tea, before the two of you sat down at the little patio table he had set up out there.

“So, how long have you lived in the neighborhood?” He asked, sipping his coffee and lifted his brows at you.

“Not long.” You replied, holding your warm cup in your hands and giggled as Kal frantically dug a hole a short distance away. “A little more than a year.” You explained, taking a gulp of your tea, turning your eyes back to Henry.

“City life is not for you either?” Henry laughed, setting his coffee cup down on the patio table.

“I try to avoid it as much as possible.” You grinned at him, your eyes guarded.

“You're not from around here, are you?” He asked, tilting his head at you, brow drawn together. “Your accent is nothing I've ever heard before.” He commented, he had been trying to place it since encountering you in the meadow.

“No, I'm not.” You shook your head at him, shyly dropping your eyes to your teacup. “My family are kind of like gypsies. They travel around Europe a lot, living their own life, on their own terms. So, I've picked up bits and pieces growing up and it sorta mashed into an accent that doesn't really belong to a specific place.” You laughed, shaking your head.

“People always try guessing where I'm originally from with it, but never get it right.” You added, amused.

“So, what made you settle in England?”

You shrugged your shoulders at him, then smiled as Kal trotted over to you, dropping a filthy tennis ball into your lap. “I wanted to put down roots.” You replied, taking up the ball and tossed it for Kal.

“Plus, I got a good job here.”

“What do you do?”

“Mainly, I'm a dog walker.” You replied, taking the ball Kal brought back to you. “But, I do some dog sitting on the side as well.” You told Henry, throwing the ball for him again.

“That explains a bit of why Kal likes you so much.” Henry commented, watching Kal's mad dash for the neon yellow ball across the yard. “He usually doesn't bring his favorite ball to people he's just met.” He explained, watching Kal charge back towards you with the dirt and slobber covered ball in his mouth.

“I've always had an affinity with animals.” You smiled, gently wrestling the ball out of his mouth and giving another throw, a bit further this time, then shivered.

“Are you all right?” Henry frowned at you, seeing the soft tremor rock your body. “Are you cold?” He asked, it was a bit brisk outside.

“No, I'm fine.” You chuckled, sitting your almost empty cup down on the table in front of you and stood. “I should really be going. I have some work I need to be doing.”

“Oh.” Henry replied, saddened, and stood with you. “I shouldn't have kept you so long, I'm so sorry.”

“It's quite all right, Henry.” You assured him with a soft smile. “It was a pleasure meeting you both.” You told him and Kal as he returned. “And, thank you for helping me find my keys.”

“Of course.” He nodded, forcing a smile. “The pleasure is all mine.”

“See you, Kal.” You smiled at the Akita patting him on the head, then nodded to Henry and started back off towards the meadow.

You were just inside the ring of trees and about to roll up the sleeve of your shirt, when you heard feet on the path behind you, then the sound of Henry calling out your name, and yanked your sleeve down and turned around to see what it was he wanted.

“Are you all right?” You asked, lifting your brows at him.

“Yeah, yeah.” He nodded, a little out of breath from running after you. “I was wondering, if you weren't busy and didn't mind, since he seemed to have really taken to you and everything.” He babbled on. “If you could take Kal on a walk for me, tomorrow?” He asked, biting the corner of his lip with shy uncertainty. “I have a bunch of work meetings I have to make and I don't want him to just get stuck around the house or digging even more holes around the property.” He explained to you.

You grinned at him, touched. “Sure, I'd love to.” You agreed, filling him with relief. “Do you have a specific time you would like me to come?”

“Um,” Henry frowned, his brow pinched as he looked at his smartwatch. “The main bulk of them are around noon. So, any time between then and one, if that works for you?” He said, looking back up at you.

“That'll work out fine.” You nodded, smiling.

“Excellent.” Henry grinned, his face lit up with excitement. “Just come round and knock.”

“Will do.” You assured him, amused that you could easily read his face and eyes. “I'll see you tomorrow, Henry.” You chuckled and turned on your heels and continued on into the meadow.

“I can't wait.” Henry replied after you, giddy and nervous.

You continued on through the meadow, unsure if Henry would still be standing in the ring of trees watching you walk in the direction you had told him you lived in. All you needed was for him to see through your ruse. So, you stepped into the furthest set of trees, glancing around to make sure no one was around to witness or stumble upon you leaving. Seeing the coast was clear, you yanked up your sleeve, rubbing the mark on your forearm with the heel of your palm and took a deep breath, closing your eyes.

“Open the way and return me home, Occam.” You called out through an invisible bond that connected you to your true home, like an umbilical cord between a mother and her babe.

The glitter of blue light illuminated the cluster of trees and brush around you, like it had in the middle of the meadow not an hour before, and taking another deep breath, you stepped through it and let it close behind you.

“Did you get it?”

You sighed and rubbed your face. “No, I didn't get it.” You replied, looking at your father. “I ran into an unseen issue.”

“And what issue was that?”

“The guy that has it.” You answered, rubbing the back of your neck.

Your father's eyes nearly popped out of their sockets at your words. “He caught you in his home?”

“Thankfully, no.” You chuckled, patting him on the chest and walked by him. “I crossed through the pocket door, where we suggested I make it.” You explained as the both of you walked towards home. “But, no soon after I arrived, so did his dog. He's adorable too.” You quipped, smiling at the image of Kal in your mind. “He looks like a black and white bear, with a long curly tail!”

“Oh, if I could have brought him home with me-”

“Sweetheart.” Your father snorted, amused and patted you gently on the back. “I'd have to build a whole new world for all the animals you keep wanting to bring back with you.” He laughed, shaking his head at you.

“Tell me what happened.” He gently pressed you back onto the subject.

“Right.” You laughed, shyly. “Well, his dog showed up and he came after him.”

“You're sure it's the same man?”

“I am.” You nodded, heaving a tired sigh. “I saw him outside of that archaeologist's office yesterday morning.”

“Master Simperwill, we've gotten intel on a possible subject.”

Darius looked up from his desk. “A possible subject for what, Vena?” He replied, lifting a brow at her.

“Serpents.” Vena answered him. “An agent in the field, who's been tracking a known Serpent, Tate Forester, followed him to an office in London, England.”

“What kind of office, exactly?” Darius questioned her, his interest peaking.

“From what my agent gathered, he's an archaeologist with a doctorate's degree in the field.” Vena read off a tablet she was holding in her hand. “His knowledge is quite extensive as well, coming from a long line of archaeologists, explorers and historians. It seems he might even know some things about our culture.” She said, glancing up at her boss.

Darius leaned back in his chair and drummed his fingers against his thigh. “Do we know why this Forester went to see the archaeologist?” He asked her, troubled.

“No, he lost track of Forester when he went inside the archaeologist's office.” Vena shook her head.

“What's this archaeologist's name?”

“Um...” Vena flipped through several of the papers clipped to her tablet. “Dr. Richard O'Connell.”

Darius let out a heavy breath and ran a hand through his graying hair. “We'll need someone to go and investigate this Dr. O'Connell to find out what it is the Serpents want with him and what he knows about us.”

“I can get one of my agents on it right away, Sir.” Vena nodded at him, turning towards the door.

“No.” Darius replied, shaking his head, having already made up his mind.

“Sir?” She frowned, turning back to him.

“Have my daughter come to my office.” He told her, nodding his head. “Yes, have her come see me.”

“Right away.” Vena nodded back at him, finally leaving his office.

A knock sounded on Darius's door several minutes later. “Come in!”

“You asked for me?” You said, stepping into his office.

“I did.” Darius replied, grinning lovingly at you. “I have something I need you to do.”

“All right.” You nodded and approached his desk, plopping down in a chair in front of it. “What's on your mind?”

“I need you to go into the base world and learn what you can about an archaeologist, Dr. Richard O'Connell. Follow him and learn whatever you can from him.” Darius explained to you.

You blinked at your father, then shook your head at him. “Why?” You asked, frowning.

“Vena thinks he has dealings with the Order of the Serpents.” He replied, biting his lip, worriedly.

“You think a human is in league with the Order of the Serpents?” You echoed, leaning forward in your seat.

“I don't necessarily believe the Doctor is in league with them, but I'm sure they're using humans for their own means.” Darius sighed, rubbing at his eyes. “We need to know what they're using the human for. That's where you come in, daughter.” He explained to you, dropping his hand and looking over at you.

“You're the only one I trust to do it and who knows so much about the Serpents and the base world.”

You rubbed a hand over your face, holding your father's eyes. It was true, you knew a great deal about the Order of the Serpents and the base world, and not from sitting around your people's sanctuary world of Moros reading about them; though you have done your fair share of reading about them. A great deal of your knowledge about your people's enemy came from running into them, while in the human world, or what Morosians called it, the base world. Your job in Moros was keeping them safe, doing recon work in the base world and making sure the Serpents didn't find a way into Moros.

While it was assumed that Alaric had collapsed the world cave on all of Christos's followers the day Darius led the refugees through the door that Marcus, Coda and Ian had opened and closed behind them, before separating, scattering for the safety of the Seals they carried with them.

One man had actually survived, and would go on to create what would become the Order of the Serpents.

Knox Steelmane was ordered to be one of the four to stand by the mouth of the world cave to await Alaric Saintwatcher's arrival. He bounced from foot to foot beside his creature, Kayda, his bladder screaming, as they waited in the brisk air.

“Going to piss yourself, Knox?” One of the other Riders teased him, digging his elbow sharply in Knox's side, with a hearty laugh.

“Go to hell, Jonas.” Knox grumbled back, shoving at the older man away.

“Seems like you're already in it.” One of the other Riders ribbed him, grinning.

“Look!” Jonas yelled out, pointing to the skies overhead.

The group looked to where he was pointing and saw Alaric and Tila making their descent toward them and the mouth of the world cave. They clustered around Alaric and his creature after they landed and approached, closely following them inside.

“Where are the rest of your brats?” Christos's voice echoed over to Alaric.

Knox listened to Christos and Alaric bicker back and forth with each other, still fidgeting and trying to ignore the fact he still had to piss. But, it quickly became clear to him that he couldn't hold it any longer or he would be peeing his britches. So, pretending to look at something behind his creature, Knox sneaked outside, quickly rushing behind the nearest tree, pulling open the strings at the front of his trousers and started relieving himself. He was mid-stream when he felt the first tremor rock the ground, making him stumble and stagger on his feet, urine getting on his boots.

“What the hell was that?” He snapped, fumbling to quickly retie the strings of his pants, as another shock wave rocked the earth beneath his feet.

Abandoning the rest of ties to his pants, Knox tripped and fumbled back towards the world cave his companions and leader were still in. But, as he rounded the corner of a tall rock formation, sprinting down the path to the cave, he heard the screams of his friends and the creatures inside, he was forced to skid to a halt as the entrance collapsed, blocking his only way inside.

“No, no no!” He screamed, rushing up to the dusty rubble, tossing what he could lift out of the way, desperate to get back inside. “Kayda!” He screamed for his creature, feeling her terror and injury through their bond, like it was his own agony. “Jonas! Christos! Kayda!” He wailed, still tearing at the rocks blocking the entrance, cutting and hurting his hands on the jagged granite rocks.

“No.” He whimpered, dropping to his knees and slumping against the landslide, tears streaking through the dirt and dust covering his face, sobbing as he felt the painful flickering of Kayda's life force inside of him. “Don't go.” He begged her dwindling life, clawing at the dirt and rock around him, as if he could keep Kayda alive by sheer will.

“Please, don't go.” He whimpered. “I need you.” He sniveled, but felt the last thread of Kayda's life break and fade.

Knox dropped his head back and let out an agonizing, heart wrenching howl, his eyes glowing the moss green of Kayda's scales. Taking a few moments, Knox dragged himself onto his feet, his arms limp at his sides, but his shoulders were stiff with grief and anger, as was his dusty and tear-stained face.

A dark hatred encrusted Knox's heart that day, he vowed to make those that had followed Alaric and opposed Christos pay for killing them, turning Christos into a martyr and championed his cause. He drudged through the roads to the sanctuary Alaric and the others had stayed in, while the two sides battled. But, when he reached the gates, he found no guards, no one alerted to his presence and reacting to it.

Suspicious and careful, in case it was another ambush, Knox moved around the tall, stone wall of the building; he didn't see a single living soul, not a single Rider or Creature in sight. He made it to the south gate and found it ajar, his suspicion growing as he approached. Closing his hand around the pummel of his sword and slipping through the open gap, Knox pulled his sword, gripping it tight, as his eyes scanned the stone and wooden structures, the worn leather soles of boots squelching as he moved slowly through the ankle deep muddy pathways, but the only things that stirred were things blown by the wind. Lowering his sword, Knox let out a roar of anger, kicking a wooden crate and sending it flying across the street, then staked his sword in the mud.

“Where could they have all gone?” He huffed, pacing in his agitation.

Yanking his sword out of the ground and sheathing it on his hip again, he began picking his way through the buildings, looking for any clues to the group's whereabouts, when he found the war room Alaric, Darius and Marcus had been using during the conflicts, finding the maps and open books they had been referencing and studying before they put their plan into motion to stop Christos and take everyone to safety through the door into the new world.

Leaning over the table, Knox picked up one of the books and lifted a brow at the page it had been left on.

“Edward William's Theory.” He read at the top of the page, blindly pulling out a chair and sitting down as he read the material. “They can't possibly think this could work.” He huffed, tossing the book back onto the table, leaning forward to look at the maps, drumming his fingers on the table as he studied them. “But, where could they have gone, without people noticing that many Riders and creatures were on the move.” He reasoned with himself, reaching out to take up the book again, tapping his finger against the page.

Hell bent on finding out where the others went, Knox gathered every scrap of material that was on the table, every book, map and sheet of paper, whether they had connection to their plans or not. He studied them in and out and became convinced they had managed to replicate the theory. So sure of it, Knox created his own group of followers, the Order of the Serpents, to keep Christos plan alive to grant rightful control over the Riders and creatures, to rule over the world, as they felt they should.

But, first, Knox and his group of Serpents needed to discover where Marcus, Ian and Coda had vanished to with the three Seals that would open the door to Moros, and they had spent the last few centuries trying to track them down.

To no avail, until, a fated phone call from a certain archaeologist.

“All right, I'll leave right away, then.” You sighed, nodding your head at your father.

“Excellent.” Darius nodded back at you. “Try to stay out of trouble, hm?” He grinned at you, a mischievous spark in his eyes.

“Who, me?” You grinned back at him, a similar sparkle in your own eyes. “Always.” You chuckled, standing. “I'm as troublesome as a church mouse.”

“Of course you are.” He echoed, huffing with amusement. “Now, I want you to go and see Vena, she has a majority of the details on the subject and she can suggest a place for you to pocket into.” He instructed you.

“Will do, papa.” You nodded, heading for the door.

“I want you back, as soon as you find out anything!” He added, calling out after you.

You made a motion with your hand, signaling to him that you heard what he said, before finding your way to Vena's office down the way. “My father said you have the details for my mission into the base world.” You said, lifting a brow at her.

“Yes.” Vena nodded, looking up from a map. “I was just looking for a place you could pocket into.” She explained, looking back down at the map, which you recognized as a map of London. “The archaeologist's office is just here.” She said, sticking a pin near the central part of London.

“I've been to several places around that area.” You commented, leaning over the map and narrowing your eyes at it. “I've created a pocket door into an establishment that's just here, more than once.” You explained, taking up a pin and poking it into the map several streets down from Dr. O'Connell's office.

“It's a big box store of theirs, they never notice me coming in and out of it.”

“Great.” Vena smiled up at you. “Then, that can be your point of entry and exit.”

“Is there anything else I need to know about this guy?” You asked, studying her.

“The archaeologist or the Serpent?” She asked, lifting a brow at you.

“Either? Both?” You replied, shaking your head.

“Well, the Archaeologist is one Richard O'Connell, he's quite distinguished in his occupation, as are several in his family. He doesn't seem to have any criminal or nefarious deeds and background that I or my agents could find.” Vena answered, shuffling papers around. “As for Tate Forester, the Serpent, his record is extensive. He has several arrests, some for theft, breaking and entering and assault. He's even done time.”

“So, he's a nasty one.”

“I've dealt with worse.” You commented, offhandedly, then glanced at one of the two clocks on Vena's wall. “It's almost seven am in the base world, I should get going.” You said, making a few calculations in your head.

“Yes, you should.” Vena nodded, biting her lip.

“Right.” You nodded back at her, smiling softly. “I'll see you later, Vena.” You chuckled, seeing yourself out of her office, then went to the house you lived in and changed into an outfit that would allow you to blend in with the humans, and a small backpack of items you might need. “Hey, Occam.” You smiled, stepping outside and happily greeting your creature as he landed before you.

“I've got some business to do in the base world.” You told him, stroking his snout. “I shouldn't be gone for too long.” You said, opening the bond between the pair of you. “You behave and don't go bullying Mundu, while I'm gone either.” You added, smirking at his huff and the rattle of his scales as he shook his mighty head at you.

“All right, Occam, let's open a portal.”

You pulled up the sleeve of the hoodie you were wearing and pressed your palm to his head, both your and Occam's eyes closing, feeling the warm tingle of your shared magic undulating between you. A gentle breeze stirred around the two of you, the mark on your forearm grew warm and glowed as the bright blue pocket door opened beside you. Patting Occam, you turned and stepped through the portal, then with a rush and a pop in your ears, you found yourself in a cramped dressing cubicle with mounted full-length mirrors on three sides and discarded clothes and hangers strewn about.

Turning, you opened the latch to the door and stepped out of the changing room, pausing for a moment to watch the oblivious shoppers, pushing their carts, stopping at racks of clothing or purchasing their items. Sighing, you slipped into the flow of the crowd and out the front doors to the street, taking a moment to orient yourself and headed in the direction of O'Connell's office.

You looked up at the tall office building and headed inside, checking the nameplates for what floor the archaeologist was on, then bypassed the lifts, having no trust in them, and took the several flights of stairs to the third floor. Coming out on the floor, you glance around, finding a young blonde woman sitting behind a desk, flipping through a magazine, seemingly unaware of your presence, as you approach her, forcing you to clear your throat twice to get her attention.

“Can I help you?” She asked, sticking her nose up at you with extreme distaste.

“Is Mr. O'Connell in?” You asked, narrowing your eyes back at her.

“No, he is not.” She huffed, picking her magazine back up. “He won't be in for at least three hours. He's teaching a two-hour class in Oxford's School of Archaeology this morning at six am, then it's an almost hour and a half train ride back here to London for him.”

You looked up at the clock on the wall above her head, it was just past seven, meaning you had hours before O'Connell showed back up at his office for regular work. “Thanks.” You sighed, but she was already absorbed in her magazine again.

Making your way back downstairs, you popped back out onto the street and turned left, following the flow of foot traffic and shops down to the local Starbucks, to order yourself a tall, blended Caramel Ribbon Crunch Frappuccino with whip cream, paying for it with the money you made from a few business dealings you had done, using your skill for tracking and finding people to your advantage in the base world, since Moros didn't have any money or currency. They shared, grew or created what they needed to survive and thrive. It enabled you to have real human money in your pocket, so you could buy things, like coffee from the famous Starbucks, you had seen countless humans carrying around with them, or to buy something to eat, even bring things back to Moros, even different clothes and books. Many types of technology from the base world didn't work in Moros, so you never bothered buying a mobile phone or a laptop.

Though, you had always yearned for one.

Having your coffee in hand, you went back to O'Connell's office building, opting to sit in the building's lobby to wait for his return. Putting your backpack on the floor between your feet and pulling out the novel you had been reading, you slowly sipped on your drink as you thumbed through it; killing the time until Dr. O'Connell arrived from Oxford to his office.

Your coffee was gone and your leg and butt-cheek were starting to fall asleep by the time the door to the building opened, admitting a group of four people, two men and two women. You lifted a brow at them, but kept your eyes on your book, not wanting to draw attention to yourself.

“Your lecture was amazing, Dr. O'Connell.” One of the women commented as the group approached the lifts.

You lifted your eyes, watching the two males, to see which of them answered.

“Thank you, Kimmy.” The taller of the two men, with graying blond hair and a pudgy middle replied, smiling at her and pressing the button for the third floor.

You shifted in your seat, watching the group pile into the lift and ride it up. Now that you knew what the good archaeologist looked like, it made your job of tracking him a lot easier. A few minutes later the two girls and the guy came back down in the lift, chatting and holding a copy of a book with O'Connell's face on the back of it; no doubt something written on his career and life. Watching them go out the door, you got up and used the bathroom that was in the lobby, before coming back out and took your seat again, intent on waiting there until O'Connell left for either his lunch break or to go home.

An hour later, the ding for the lift doors echoed through the lobby, catching your attention, as a tall, dark and curly haired man stepped out of them. He was handsome, for sure, but that wasn't the tingle that drew you to him as he walked by you, towards the front doors. There was something about him that called out to you, that made you want to stand up and follow him out of the building, to wherever it was he was going; and you didn't understand why. But, as soon as he was out of the building and you could no longer see him, the tingle flowing in your spine vanished, leaving you dizzy and lightheaded.

It wasn't five minutes later that Dr. O'Connell came flying through the lobby, his long coat billowing behind him as he yanked his mobile out of his pocket, frantically dialing a number on it. You waited a moment for him to get out onto the street, before stuffing your book back into your backpack and got up, swinging it onto your back, slipping your arms through the straps, and looking left and right, before catching sight of him and dashing in that direction.

You kept at a reasonable distance from Dr. O'Connell, but still close enough to hear him speaking to whoever it was he called.

“It's Rick O'Connell.” He was saying, walking quickly in his agitation. “You told me to call you, if I ever found anything that looked like Dragonic.”

“Dragonic.” You mumbled to yourself, frowning.

“I'm pretty sure.” Dr. O'Connell was explaining to his caller. “No. I wasn't sure if it was the real thing or not. So, I let the guy that brought it to me, take it back with him.” He said, suddenly stopping and turning around, but you casually walked by him, as if nothing was amiss. “I can contact him and get it back, if you like?” He said, frowning to himself and started walking again.

“It was a disc shaped object, with a dragon on it.” He described the object he had called them about. “A man brought it to me, his name is Henry Cavill.”

Your ears perked up at the name and the description of the object. Biting your lip, you picked your pace and headed back towards the department store you had used to enter the base world, sneaking back into the same dressing room and opened a pocket door back to Moros.

“Father!” You shouted, rushing into his office.

“I'm here, I'm here, daughter!” He called back, appearing. “What is it? What's happened? Are you all right?” He asked, looking you over, urgently.

“I'm well.” You assured him, out of breath. “I come with news.”

“Well, sit and catch your breath first, child.” He told you, ushering you to a seat and bringing you a warm cup of tea, with a splash of something stronger in it. “Now, tell me. What is it you've learned?” He asked, leaning back against his desk in front of you.

“I found the archaeologist in his office building, it was easy enough.” You told him, slowly sipping your tea and taking slow, deep breaths. “I had to wait some time for him to show up, he was doing work for one of the base world's schools. But, once he did arrive, it didn't take long for something to happen.” You explained to him.

“And, what did you find?”

“The man, a Henry Cavill, he said his name was...”

“You talked to these men?”

“No.” You shook your head at him. “I talked to only his secretary, to see if he was in. That's how I found out he was not in, at the time. But, Dr. O'Connell wasn't back in his office long after his teaching engagement, when he apparently had a client bring him something. I didn't see the meeting or the object. But, when I saw the man leaving, I felt oddly attracted to him and not because he was handsome either.” You chuckled, hiding your shy smirk in the rim of your cup.

Darius rolled his eyes at you. “The object, did they describe it?” He asked, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning forward.

“Dr. O'Connell left his office soon after the man, Mr. Cavill, left. He made a phone call to someone. Apparently, he's meant to call them, if he encounters anything, Dragonic, and described the object Mr. Cavill brought to him.”

“It was a round disc with a dragon on one side of it.”

Your father's face fell, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat. “Dragons.” He whispered, pushing off his desk and began pacing his office.

“It's what they call our creatures.” You said, watching him. “Dragons.”

“Yes.” He nodded, stroking his bearded chin and pinched his bottom lip, as he brooded. “Did the archaeologist have the disc on him?”

“No.” You shook your head. “He said, Cavill still had it with him, because he wasn't sure if the object was the real thing or not.”

Darius turned back to you. “You said, when this Cavill was leaving, you were drawn to him, and not just because of his looks.”

“Yes, I wanted to follow him, to go with him. There was a tingle up my spine, like the feeling I get when I use my magic with Occam.” You explained to him, frowning and tilting your head at him.

“By the Order,” Your father gasped. “He's in possession of one of the Seals.”

[seraph-star]

Six Sentence Sunday

Hey everyone! I saw a post about a “Six Sentence Sunday” where you post 6 sentences of a current WIP (or write 6 sentences if you don't have any), and if you are a reader you challenge yourself to write a six sentence comment on something! (The original is a few posts back on my dash) I thought it would be fun to do this, so I’m going to give out approximately six sentences of my current fic WIP “Lotus in the Nile” (which is an Ancient Egypt AU)! Mika glanced up at the lotus wreathed that decorated the altar. Having an idea, he blew gently on the wreathe while channeling some of his magic into his breathe. One of the blooms shook loose from the rest and slowly glided down to land on Yuu’s hand that was holding one of the offerings. The worshipper tilted his head curiously and then smiled gently while picking up the bloom to bring it to his nose. 

“Anubis, are you watching over me?”

Yes Yuu-chan, I am. Please wait for me, my little lotus.

“Lotus in the Nile” is not complete yet, though I hope to have it finished soon! Enjoy this little out-of-context tidbit!

[dovesdanceatdusk]

Long post reply ahead:

@dreamsfrozenincandyland-blo-blog, I had to give your response some thought because I could be riding the high of 14x08 like I did in season thirteen and I don’t want to do that. What I mean is, I enjoy the episode on first watch/premiere airing, only to be confused and disappointed if and when I rewatch. 

I was upset Jack and Sam didn’t hug. I could chalk it up to Sam being less tactile than Dean, but then I remember all the times Sam hugged friends and family members in his inner circle the past three seasons and I’m left coming up short on that theory. 

He watched Jack, his kid, die when Castiel and Dean walked out of the room. As painful as that was, I was happy Sam didn’t leave. I normally see symbolism when it’s not there, so forgive a young bird of doing so, but Sam sitting by Jack’s side and not leaving tells me Sam cared for Jack more than the scene let on. Sam didn’t leave, abandon, or write off Jack in season thirteen. He didn’t leave Jack when Jack was about to die. He stayed by his side, even if it killed him inside. 

To me, Jared’s acting was pretty good, not subdued. [Reasons why, I saw how Sam tried to keep it together, how Sam held back tears when Jack and he talked right before Jack died. How Sam left Castiel and Dean after Jack died after Dean talked about making a pyre, abrupt, determined, and hurting. When Sam tried to chop down a tree to make a pyre, only to strike hard enough to break the ax. 

I saw Sam’s sorrow when he told Dean he couldn’t even build a proper pyre for Jack. His determination to help Jack by agreeing to Lily’s deal--and the desperation to try when Dean didn’t think the deal was a good idea. His outburst when Lily retracted her end of the deal (”He’s our kid!”). Holding Jack and telling him to read the spell to activate the angel magic and save his life.] 

I saw all of that--Sam’s grief, his helplessness, desperation, determination, relief, and elation. I mean, I could have ridden the live-blog high, too caught up in the feelings to register that maybe what I saw was more muted than I realize (hence why I dread rewatching sometimes). But that’s what I got from it. The subtleties in Jared’s acting, as well as the overtness, led me to believe Sam’s actions, feelings, and behavior last night felt real. 

But then those thoughts led me back to your response again, and I thought some more. I thought of Dean’s reactions to Jack, including that hug, and yeah, I wanted that for Sam.

I could see Sam laugh with tears spilling out of his eyes, holding Jack tight after the spell was complete and Jack was saved. I could see Sam hitting the tree after he broke the ax, pounding the side of his fist on it and crying until he didn’t have the strength anymore; and after he would walk over to the Impala and sit by her tires lost and hurting because his boy died and he couldn’t do a flying fig about it. I could see Sam rest his head against the table’s surface in the library after the failed attempt to get Anubis to help Lily. He takes a deep breath, then we hear that shuddering exhale--I could see that too. I could see him shoving Dean a little after Dean tells him the deal is too sketchy to try--then again I couldn’t, not after watching the later seasons. Would that make me happier? Would those theoretical examples fill up the drying pool of want and Sam wishes from this old horse of a show? I don’t know. I would be more satisfied, yes.

Which brought me to my response to your first reply last night. In comparison to what I saw in previous episodes this season, 14x08 gave me more Sam feels and Sam and Jack feels. That was why I was satisfied. Not, “I’m over the moon, stop the online presses,” joy, but I’m glad I saw Sam’s grief instead of him burying it down deep into the abyss for others. How I saw it, what Sam did to bring Jack back was because of his grief, his frustration he couldn’t do anything for him before (I chalked ‘before’ up to Jack’s terminal illness). Sam made calls, got Lily Sunder to help because he was desperate to help Jack, to do something. Sam chopping a tree for Jack’s pyre, only to break the ax, was his desperation, his grief, his loss bleeding through. I remember reblogging a post last night pointing out the reason why Jack is alive was Sam, Lily, and Castiel. It was Sam who got the ball rolling. Sam reached out; he found Lily and came together with a plan. From there, Castiel, 100% on board, agreed to carry out a key piece to the plan: go to heaven, find Jack, and send Jack’s soul back to his body. Sam went to lengths to get Jack back, without having to make a crossroads deal. 

There’s not a lot of Sam and Jack moments in season fourteen. When I do get them, somehow it gets nuked and destroyed in the next episode like it never happened (Looking at you, Bucket of Lemmings, and maybe the Singer-Dabb duo of questionable decisions). In comparison, season thirteen was the opposite. There were a lot of Sam and Jack moments, enough to warm my theoretical house. Only a handful of last season’s episodes had Sam and Jack more distant with each other. 

That’s the problem I’m facing with season fourteen in regards to Sam and Jack’s relationship. For Sam and Jack positive people, all of those moments we saw in season thirteen, those moments that warmed our hearts--at least my heart if yours melted or burned the good burn--is barely even noticeable this season.  There’s an imbalance. If the writing team played their cards right, the Dean and Jack bonding moments wouldn’t be so glaring if they included some Sam and Jack bonding moments. Anyone out there who believe the Dean and Jack bonding moments were okay is another sliver of pie that must be accounted for as well. So, perhaps a slower bonding progression, easing into the Dean and Jack bond instead of, “BAM, they’re thick as thieves. Dean is Jack’s other father and the rest is shredded grass.”

The progression would be more organic, but Dean and Jack’s relationship needed to happen quickly in order for the writers’ plans to come together. Dean needed to have a closer relationship with Jack in order for his actions and reactions in 14x07 and 14x08 to play out the way it did. That’s what I’m getting from it. I don’t like it, but that’s what I’m reading. Add in the fact you have a writing team that needs to not only work together but needs to work with the showrunner’s (showrunners’) vision. That’s a tough cucumber if you were a writer rallying Sam and Jack’s relationship.

I also read a discussion a few days ago pointing out side characters’ relationships with the brothers. 

Analysis: missjackil(.)tumblr(.)com/post/180864904367/captainsteelandsunshine   

The last comment of the thread gives a different perspective on the matter. I found it to be an interesting read, but your mileage may vary on the topic. I’m putting this here to widen the net a bit on this topic. Take away the parentheses before using the link.

I hope my response makes sense. You’re not wrong, and not alone on your thoughts on 14x08. On my dash, I saw some Sam and Jack positive viewers just as disappointed. My attitude toward the episode might change if I can get myself to rewatch. The downside is I don’t think what the show is doing is going to change. I could be wrong.

(What will sting is if the deleted scenes of the season were Sam and Jack moments. Boo.) 

Note to anyone pointing out Jack and Castiel scenes: I’m only addressing Sam and Jack and Dean and Jack in this post. 

[waxingmoonstone]

Long Post Warning

I just got meme’d by my God.

Okay so for a while things have been kinda weird between Anubis and I. As a basic run-down leading up to the meme: -he went on a break; got busy and unresponsive

-I then got busy and unresponsive; also my depression hit likely worse due to winter 

-shook out of it and decided to jump back in

-Anubis mentions trying Spiritwork with him again as that’s what we were going to do before the Big Break

-First night; starts out great on the pendulum and tarot combo- talk to him, things get emotional.. he asks if i want to leave and i reassure the poor guy i dont. He gives me a heart I put as an option on my board bc i accidentally drew an extra line and didn’t know what to do with it. I ask what I should do about this blockage I’ve been having where I feel depressed and distant/shut off from my Gods. He tells me to just do my best. I sob like a little bitch -- that is until some dick interrupts and starts pressuring me for things and im forced to stop for the night after Anubis tells me to leave

-Second night can’t even REACH anubis via pendulum but tarot seems mildly okay. Got help from a FANTASTIC blog who i’ll keep anonymous for now as I’m not sure they’d appreciate being tagged (they can comment if they’d like bc they certainly deserve credit) but I still feel (now as im writing this) that I’ve made progress bc i was threatened like 3x by spirits that said they were demons and going to kill me and I wasn’t even scared for once, whereas before I’d fucking panic when the pendulum said something and a noise would happen behind me lol

SO FOR THE MEME: 

So naturally after failing I was getting frustrated and a bit down, and I prompt Anubis with my mind “Can you give me a sign that you dont want to leave or that you dont want me to leave?” Which led to “...Is it wrong for me to ask for a sign?”

-refreshes tumblr and gets  no sign- “That’s about right. lol” -new post available on dash pop up notification thing-

“Bet it’s not a sign. He’s been silent this whole time.”

Refreshed Post:

Touche Anubis... Touche....

TLDR; I was second guessing myself and my Gods/practice and Anubis fuckin put me in my place with the above image.

[craveanimeblog-blog]

The Real Deal of Death The Kid from Soul Eater

Death the Kid  commonly referred to as simply Kid is the second son of Death himself and the Meister of the Demon Twin Guns, Liz Thompson and Patty Thompson. Created from a piece of Death himself, Death the Kid is known to be one of the top 3 EAT-level fighters in the DWMA. After his father's death at the connection of the Lines of Sanzu and Asura's defeat on the Moon, he inherits his late father's position as leader and headmaster of Death Weapon Meister Academy as well as his name, Shinigami  with the "-sama" suffix as a term of respect. He is one of the main protagonists in Soul Eater.

Kid has his own, odd quirks. His favorite number is eight due to its symmetry and, according to Liz, was willing to try and place himself in exactly eight seconds during a 100 meter dash test and end up not meeting the time. He can also be somewhat overconfident in his ability, feeling the need to not study Soul Studies just because he was a Shinigami. Due to his perfectionist personality, he is the type of person to recall and correct people on the small of detail, pointing out even when infected by the Madness of Power to Black Star he never punched him and instead used his heel during their fight when Black Star erroneously stated he punched him into submission, something the assassin noted to be unique to Kid.

Kid also has a great sense of morality and order, having expressed to the Flying Dutchman that despite being a god, he doesn't deny evil and that there's no one person without some evil within them. However, he believes that everything is about balance instead and strives to keep the balance between "good" and "evil" in equilibrium. When expressing this, he also informed the Flying Dutchman that cares little for other's view on the subject and strives for a "absolutely" perfect world, granting no one freedom to kill. Described as possessing an "uptight personality" by Franken Stein,Death the Kid is known to be a normally calm and mature individual compared to those like Black☆Star and Soul Eater. 

Throughout the series, he's shown to be prideful of his status as a Shinigami, wanting to become the next full-fledged Shinigami and inheriting his father's responsibilities. However, he also wants to do so in his own unique way, even telling his own father he wants to makes his own weapons to his specifications despite Death informing him that as a Shinigami, he doesn't really need to collect souls. According to Black Star's testament of his view on Death the Kid, despite being a Shinigami he is also capable of being humane and not displaying the typical arrogance of someone who has the status of a god. This is true, so much so that he even see's himself partly as a human and expressed this fact to Asura.

Kid's view on balance is partly due to his father's teachings to him on order as a child. Despite favoring order, he also aware of not following it blindly. He's quick to question his own father's actions when he had the DWMA storm into Baghdad when searching for Asura and explained that it's wrong to impose their will on others, though was understanding and sympathetic of his father when he realized that due to the threat of Asura, his father doesn't have the luxury of "playing it safe" and may be reckless in his decisions. However, he also wants to do so in his own unique way, even telling his own father he wants to makes his own weapons to his specifications despite Death informing him that as a Shinigami, he doesn't really need to collect souls. According to Black Star's testament of his view on Death the Kid, despite being a Shinigami he is also capable of being humane and not displaying the typical arrogance of someone who has the status of a god. 

This is true, so much so that he even see's himself partly as a human and expressed this fact to Asura.  When the majority of Spartoi was ordered to execute Crona, Kid was the only one who supported the action, citing that Crona's actions were unforgivable and even alluded that the reason why they were ordered to do so by his father was for them to decide how to face Crona but said that both them and "order" must move forward to take care of the threat Crona possessed.  He also explained to Azusa that merely holding ideals means nothing and one must realize that people must make an effort to make things better and that If being an adult means "stapling out ideals" because of experience, he doesn't mind being called "Kid". Because of his views, Azusa comments that he is also pushy, much like his father.

Kid is also extremely humble, shown when he pleaded to the Witch Order, the Witch Judge, and the Witch Queen to assist the DWMA in stopping The Clowns and pushed for both Humans, Witches, the DWMA, and the Witch Order to have better relations. He also put good faith and trust into the Witch Order, despite the protests of Azusa Yumi. Like his father, he also has a fierce and much darker side in his personality. 

While normally calm and collective, Kid is still susceptible to being angered, such as when Mosquito insulted his father and when Noah's Group announced their plan to assassinate Maka Albarn, he showed a considerable amount of anger. When he later faced Noah  on his plans of "replacing the gods", Kid even gave him a death threat, in which was guaranteed when he used the Parent's Seven Rays attack on the Sorcerer, killing him.

Despite his great capabilities, Kid also possesses some flaws, most notable him being a perfectionist to the point of having OCD/OD-esque qualities. Described as being "too much of a perfectionist", he initially was very obsessed and concerned with orderliness and paying excessively close attention to detail so much so he complained about Liz and Patty's breast size being irregular, chose them as weapons due to their twin appearance in their weapon forms, and even refused to attack the Wrath of the Pharaoh due to symmetry. As well as this, he dislikes the fact that his Lines of Sanzuwere incomplete and upon Liz pointing it out, he called himself an ugly pig and worthless piece of garbage until he was quickly cheered up by his fellow weapon partners.

He is even physically repulsed by asymmetrical arrangements to the point he almost vomited at the sight. Due to his wanting to be precise in detail, it even took him over a month to help Liz pluck her eyebrows; in addition, he fails an entire test due to being unable to correctly write his name symmetrically and accidentally ripping the paper while erasing, before being reduced to tears, causing him to cough up blood and faint.

He also let Crona and Ragnarok get away to admire the sky and it's symmetry.Despite being enrolled in counseling, it remained as a fatal and dangerous flaw. Even the mere sight of something asymmetrical causes him to become more aggressive, not only killing the Wrath of the Pharaoh in a fit of rage, but also destroying the Pyramid Anubisdue to his recklessness. In actuality, this part of his personality is a manifestation of the Madness of Order due to being a part of Death himself, a fact he himself is unaware of.

Despite this flaw, he is noticeable not unaffected by his father's appearance despite it being asymmetrical possibly due to his immense respect for him. This is a bit more evident when Kid was shown to even willingly sport the same robes of what his father wears on missions. As time passes throughout the series, he becomes less affected of his perfectionist nature and matures enough to accept it, though will still occasionally bicker over small details.This remains true even when he became a true Shinigami. One of the earliest examples of this improvement is displayed when he claims not to care about the DWMA's broken spike as Black Star begins to descend into madness during their second duel.

[xyouseix]

Arialista | My Protector

Artwork by John-Paul Balmet.

A note about this chapter: This story from Arialista’s childhood was written by my Dungeon Master, @dm-anubis, with some very minor tweaking done by me. I gave him permission to write this for my character as it pertain’s to her mother, Countess Rhyannon Wynmar, since he knows best what happened to her after the Destruction of House Wynmar...

Wynmar Estate Gardens, c. 1475

On the outskirts of the peaceful town of Aunden, on the third floor of Wynmar Manor, golden eyes watched out from the bedroom window as the gilded carriage disappeared into the horizon. The small tiefling girl followed it’s progress rolling down the cobble road, taking Count Wynmar away, away from home, and leaving his only daughter behind. Arialista sighed, letting the curtains slip out of her fingers as it had finally vanished into the woods at the far edge of the estate.

Leaning back against the wall, Arialista closed her eyes and tapped her horns on the wall behind her softly.

Alone again, she thought.

She wasn’t really alone though. There was always her handmaiden Ester, the household servants and tutors, and of course Jenvyre, her main teacher and governess. However, whenever her father left she always felt alone. Around her the household was filled with humans, and the only visitors were other humans or elves, though Jenvyre herself was a half-elf. She felt like she stuck out with her red skin and her horns and her golden eyes. But when her father was home, their matching golden eyes left no doubt that she belonged, even though he was a human.

Above all this though, the person who made her most anxious was her mother. She always changed from coldly manipulative to outright abusive whenever her father was not around. The young girl rubbed her rump, remembering the last time when her mother had struck her for being in the same room as her for too long.

Shaking her head, Arialista finally got up and crept across her room, peering down the hall to make sure the Countess wasn’t there. Perhaps if she was very careful to avoid her, she wouldn’t be victim to the Countesses violent outbursts.

As Arialista swiftly snuck across the hall and down the stairwell, she thought of her one saving grace remaining without her father being around: Jenvyre. While the other servants would not dare to speak or act out against the Countess, Jenvyre took Arialista’s safety very seriously, though she was a hard teacher on Arialista.

After reflexively checking one last time to make sure her mother was not around, Arialista dashed outside.

⚔️

Countess Rhyannon had never acted like her mother. Once, when she was five, the young girl had overheard her screaming that she was not her daughter, as well as numerous other more offensive comments, while arguing with her husband.

That thing, that demon child, is not my daughter! I could never birth something so impure!

Arialista snapped a dry reed out of the garden ground and swung it around going through a sequence of motions as though it was a sword while her mind wandered and her feet carried her through the practice gardens. As she thought about how the Countess had a habit of calling her “the demon child” and any number of other more unflattering comments, Arialista grew frustrated. She swung her reed weapon with more furious strokes, finally spinning and striking something solid. Arialista blinked as her reed snapped against the practice sword drawn up against her, but after a moment her rushing heartbeat quieted enough for her to recognize the familiar half-elven face of Jenvyre.

“Now that’s a very undisciplined style Arialista.” A slight smile twitched at the edge of the woman’s lips.

“I’m sorry mistress, I wasn’t...” Arialista trailed off, not sure where she had been going with that sentence. Thankfully Jenvyre saved her the trouble by handing her a practice sword, it’s wooden length much heavier than the reed she had been previously swinging round. It was a comforting familiarity, one that had begun to grow on the young girl in the past few months since she had begun training with weapons.

“Come then, emotion is helpful if you can control it, child.”

The two spent the better part of the morning there in the garden together, swinging their wooden practice swords against each others in simple exchanges. Arialista thought she was getting pretty good at it, but Jenvyre was a seasoned veteran and only lost a combat maneuver when she used it to show Arialista how to do certain maneuvers.

Eventually, her arms started to get tired, which meant her parries were becoming less controlled and precise. Jenvyre picked up on this quickly.

“That is enough for now Arialista,” Jenvyre said.

One of the house staff came over with some iced tea, mercifully prepared just in time to spare the young noble from further training.

Did Jenvyre stop because the tea had come out? No, she she must have signaled for it when I wasn’t looking... Or were the servants just exceptionally good at their jobs? All these thoughts ran through the little girl’s head as she rubbed her tired arms and gratefully accepted the tea.

“You have improved much since we started. I’ll make a swordswoman of you yet.” Jenvyre smiled, sipping her tea.

As the servants left the two alone in the garden patio she leaned over and ruffled the tiefling’s hair. This show of affection from the half-elf woman was a welcome relief for the young girl, who smiled into her cup. Arialista considered Jenvyre more of a mother than the Countess, though she could never tell Jenvyre that. Jenvyre herself knew she had to be careful in showing such attention to the girl. She was kind to Arialista, and took her side on all matters, but didn’t always let the girl see it.

“I was going to go look for some lilies on the far side of the garden so I could maybe make a wreath for when father comes back!” erupted Arialista as she put down her empty cup, rejuvenated and excited now. Jenvyre’s affection had purged the darker thoughts of earlier from her young mind.

“Your father won’t be back for a while, young lady. A ten-day at least. Wouldn’t you rather have fresh flowers for him?” was Jenvyre’s patient response.

“Hmmm. Then I shall do a practice one today, and maybe, if Ester think’s it is good enough, she will help me make it better so I can make a really nice one with fresh lilies for father!” Jenvyre laughed at the beaming smile on the determined tiefling’s face.

“Very well! Off you go then, and be careful in that garden. I will fetch the servants to clean this up and then I’ll come check on you.” Jenvyre paused. “Or would you rather I send Ester?” The half-elf pondered as though it were an incredibly important political debate, which to a child perhaps it was.

“You come!” Arialista gazed up at Jenvyre with admiration for a moment more before darting away from the table, energy rekindled, off into the gardens.

Rounding the edge of the manor, Arialista stalked through the flowers carefully, stopping occasionally to smell them. The lilies she was looking for were in a part of the garden right next to a shrine, an altar-like building surrounded by tall hedges. Arialista didn’t really know the purpose of the shrine. None of her lessons had never led her there, nor had her father ever taken her to it for any reason, so the young girl assumed it was just for decoration. Right beside it there were tall hedges, and next to those was a bed of flowers enjoying the midsummer sun.

“May I have some lilies please?” Arialista whispered to the flowers. A light wind ruffled the petals and leaves, bending the plant stems ever so slightly. Arialista took it to mean yes, she could take a few flowers.

Carefully selecting the lilies she wanted, Arialista was already picturing exactly how magnificent her wreath would look. It took several minutes for her to even notice the sound of light chanting.

Arialista stood up straight right in the middle of the garden bed and looked around in a full circle, curious. It is definitely someone chanting, she thought, but I can’t understand the words. She stopped moving and listened harder. Its coming from the other side of the hedge.

Faintly, Jenvyre’s words echoed in her memory, “Be careful in that garden.” She unintentionally brandished her flowers like a weapon, her curiosity taking a cautious turn as she quietly made her way to the hedge entrance. Peering around the corner, the sound of soft chanting increased, and Arialista saw that someone was kneeling at the altar of the shrine.

The shrine was an old structure of stone with four carved pillars holding up a fitted stone roof with a hole in the centre, and no walls. A flat slab of stone held up by four angel statues made up the altar in the centre with a basin directly below the hole in the roof full of rain water from the week before. Barely any sunlight made its way past both the hedges and the overhanging roof of the shrine. Kneeling at the altar, hands on either side of the stone basin of water, was Countess Rhyannon Wynmar. Her noble robes had been replaced with more priestly garb, something which Arialista had never seen her in before. Eyes wide, the tiefling girl watched as the Countess drew a silver dagger and slit her own palm, dropping blood into the basin as she finished her chanting prayer.

“Please hear me, Archangel. Burn out the impurity from my blood. I wish only to be clean again!”

A pillar of flame rose from the water basin, no wider than a candle, stretching up three feet above the altar, before dropping down back into the basin. A cloud of steam mixed in with tendrils of red mist. Blood, Arialista thought. It rose from the basin, and the girl was sure that if she were taller she would see it was now empty. The mist shaped itself above the altar into a vaguely humanoid form, an arm reaching out to the Countess, who gasped in delight as Arialista gasped in horror, frozen to the spot.

“I only wish to be pure again. Please cleanse this blight. I need you, lightbringer–” before she even finished her sentence, the cloud of mist dissipated, rising up into the sky through the hole over the alter with alarming speed.

The Countess paused a moment, put the silver dagger away, then stood up and turned around. Her face turned from one of contemplation to pure outrage in the second it took for her to recognize Arialista’s red skin. Too shocked to flee, Arialista stood stock still as her mother stormed towards her and grabbed her by both shoulders.

“What are you doing here you horrid child? Spying on me?!” she screamed, spraying spittle in the girl’s face, her own face red with anger.

“No! I was picking flo–” Arialista was silenced by a tremendous blow to the face which sent her sprawling to the ground so hard she felt dazed. Barely able to even turn, she simply shielded her face from what she knew would be an even greater assault as the Countess took another step forward, roaring down at the prone girl.

“How dare you! I let you live in my house, under my roof, even though you are a cursed, blighted thing, and the moment that Allard leaves you stalk after me? You little beast. I’m going to–”

Whatever she was going to do was stopped by a strangled shout as a dark form leapt over top of Arialista and slammed into the Countess. Face still stinging, Arialista forced herself to look at what was happening.

Jenvyre stood protectively over the girl, a fierce image of a warrior as she held Rhyannon’s wrist firmly. Arialista had never seen the half-elf look so outraged. The Countess seemed equally shocked that Jenvyre would so brazenly challenge her. To her horror, Arialista noticed the Countess had a short whip in her hand to strike Arialista with, but a twist from Jenvyre dropped it to the ground.

“If. You. EVER. Lay so much as a finger on your daughter again, I swear by all the gods Rhyannon–”

“You– You can’t speak to me like that!” sputtered the Countess, too afraid of Jenvyre to even properly assert her rank.

“Hear this and hear it well.” Jenvyre’s voice had become very low and threatening. “You will not touch her. You will not threaten her. And you will not toy with me.”

“When Allard gets back I will have him send you back to your forest!” The threat of her words was belied by a hint of fear as the Countess wrenched her hand back, clutching at her wrist as she backed away.

“Do you hear me, Rhyannon?” that low threatening tenor seemed to growl out of the half-elf as Jenvyre took an aggressive step toward the Countess. Rhyannon nearly tripped but nodded and fled, only slowing to glare back at the two one last time before she escaped into the house. Jenvyre stood protectively over Arialista a moment more before a small sob from the girl changed her demeanor from protector to caregiver.

“Oh Arialista, my darli–” Jenvyre caught herself. “My lady, are you alright? Let me see your face.” Arialista tried to cover up the injury, but the bruise on her face hurt, and she thought she felt blood. She shivered, trying to avoid her governess’ gaze as Jenvyre inspected her wound.

“Come on, let’s go–” Jenvyre caught Arialista’s eyes and suddenly the tears the girl had been holding back burst forth. Seeing her charge in such a state made it hard for the half-elf to keep her composure, so she hugged Arialista tightly, protectively. Lifting her up in her strong arms, she took the child back inside. Nearly passing out from emotional exhaustion, Arialista heard only fragments of conversation between Jenvyre and Ester.

“Mistress Jenvyre, wha– Oh my goodness! The poor girl! I will take care of her– Mistress Jenv–”

“I have her, Ester. If I have to trance outside her door with swords drawn every night until the Count gets back, then so be it. If it keeps that horrid woman from coming anywhere near her, I will do what I must.”

“I understand, Governess, but… while he is gone, she is the master of this house.”

“She is not the master of me. What is she going to do, have me thrown out? I have trained all the guards, I’m sure they’ll be more scared of me than of her.”

Arialista faded out of consciousness. She woke again only briefly, noticing she was in bed, with Jenvyre sitting in the chair beside her, rubbing her temple. The half-elf started when she saw the girl open a bleary golden eye.

“It’s okay Arialista. I’m here. I’ll always be here.”

Arialista fell blissfully back to sleep.

[jackalofhonour-blog]

“... What’s all this talk about master’s rear going around? I don’t understand you humans and your butt fetishes!”