#its also a small look into what using blood magic might be like

[breelandwalker]

Hunter's Moon - October 17 2024

Grab your masks and candy buckets and trim the twigs on your best besom, witches! It’s time for the Hunter’s Moon!

Hunter’s Moon

The Hunter’s Moon is the name usually given to the full moon which appears in October, provided that the Harvest Moon has occurred in September. (Remember - the Harvest Moon is the full moon closest to the autumnal equinox and that can mean September OR October!) The Hunter’s Moon is next full moon to follow it, so it may occur in October OR November. The Harvest and Hunter’s moons are the only two moons in the calendar which are tied to a specific event in this way, while the others reflect signs of seasonal growth or animal behavior.

Like the Harvest Moon, the Hunter’s Moon rises big, bright, and early, and it may appear to be full for two or three nights in a row. The celestial peak of illumination is at 7:26am EST on October 17th, but the moon may also appear full or nearly-full on the 16th and 18th. This is also the second of this season's series of supermoons!

The name Hunter’s Moon is taken from the traditional timing for the fall hunting season, as the name implies. The fields cleared in previous months and the gradually cooling weather meant that animals fattened up from summer foraging would be roaming in open ground, making prime targets for anyone looking to put some meat in the pantry for winter. According to the Oxford English Dictionary, this may also be the origin of the other common October moniker, the Blood Moon, which has been in use in the British Isles since at least the Middle Ages.

North American indigenous names for the October moon include Falling Leaves Moon (Anishinaabe), Freezing Moon (Ojibwe), Migrating Moon (Cree), and Big Wind Moon (Zuni). In several modern pagan traditions, the October moon is called the Sanguine or Blood Moon due to its’ with the association with the hunt and with alleged sacrifices made ahead of the coming winter. (Keep in mind that any claims about What The Druids Did should be taken with a grain of salt, as they did not keep written records of their ceremonies.)

As you may know, we're also welcoming an additional natural satellite at the moment - a tiny asteroid designated 2024 PT5. This visitor comes from the Arjuna asteroid belt, which is made up of near-Earth objects that orbit the sun at a similar distance to our own cozy little planet. This temporary "mini moon" will be vacationing in and around Earth's orbit until sometime in November, at which point it will continue on its' way through our solar system. Unfortunately, it's too small and too far away to be seen with the naked eye or even with most telescopes, but you may be able to see the peak of the Orionids meteor shower between October 20th and 22nd, depending on where you live. (Check the DarkSky Placefinder to see what will be visible in your area!)

What Does It Mean For Witches?

October is a time to finish our harvests. We gather in the last of what we sowed earlier in the year and reflect on what our work has wrought and what our labor has produced. It is also a time of transition as the weather begins to shift more noticeably toward the chill of winter. Shore up whatever provisions you need for the immediate future and complete whatever preparations you’ve been making for the cold season, both magical and practical. A little weatherproofing goes a long way!

This is also the month when numerous Western cultures remember their honored dead and a time when some believe that contact with various unseen realms is more easily accomplished. If you’re seeking advice or reassurance from the greater beyond, or looking to do some planning or forecasting for the coming year, now might be the optimal time to do it.

What Witchy Things Can We Do?

Celebrate the end of the harvest season with your favorite recipes! Bust out that hearty stew or delicious pie you’ve been dying to make but kept putting off during the hot months. Use local produce to make something special and gather in the last fruits of your garden.

Get your divination game on! Many October party games include fortune-telling aspects for love or marriage or professional prospects. Choose your favorite method and see what it has to tell you about the coming year and where your current path may lead. Remember that the choices we make change the path and therefore the outcome, so try to regard the results as written in sand rather than stone.

Participate in the hunt yourself! Whether it’s an actual seasonal hunt for game (safely and responsibly done, of course) or a bit of foraging or a personal search for something you’ve been needing, this is the perfect time to connect with that drive to seek and gather. Make one more trip for wildcrafted plants before everything turns brown and brittle. Stalk the aisles of your favorite local shops for craft supplies, new decorations, or perhaps that fancy hat you’ve been dreaming of for the upcoming holiday.

Prepare for the cold months! Switch out your wardrobe, heap those blankets on the bed, change the decor to something autumnal, and make sure your home and vehicle are ready for winter. If you do any seasonal crafts or fibre arts, start pulling out your accoutrements.

Shed your metaphorical skin one more time. Examine what you carry in your heart and where your priorities lie. If there is anything left that weighs you down or no longer serves you or disrupts your life unnecessarily, prune it away and let it go. This process is not always comfortable and may leave you feeling raw, but sometimes hard decisions must be made. You are not meant to be in perpetual motion or constant production. Give yourself permission to rest.

Consider also the parts of yourself that you don’t always like. Is there value in the struggle to deny them and push them away? Is there anything that might serve you better if it was embraced rather than denied? So often we speak of letting things go and laying down burdens in order to progress. But there is also power in remembrance, in anger, in spite, in grief, in ambition. Remember that while you should forgive yourself for past mistakes and learn from them, you are not required to do the same for others. Remember also that setting boundaries is healthy and that if they are not respected, you are within your rights to remind others than actions have consequences. Protecting yourself is not always pretty and it is not always polite. And it doesn’t have to be.

Happy Hunter’s Moon, witches! 🌕🏹

Further Reading:

Additional Lunar Calendar posts

Secular Celebrations - Samhain

Hunter’s Moon: Full Supermoon in October, The Old Farmer's Almanac.

Hunters Moon 2024: The Spiritual Meaning of the October Full Moon, The Peculiar Brunette.

Orionid meteor shower 2024: All you need to know, EarthSky, Oct 18 2024.

"Earth will get another moon this month  — but not for long!," Space.com, Sept 17 2024.

Everyday Moon Magic: Spells & Rituals for Abundant Living, Dorothy Morrison, Llewellyn Publications, 2004.

Image Credit - Darkfoxelixir on Shutterstock.

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[ophelia-ophelian]

Research you

Mr. Silvair x reader

AN: okay listen— i have no clue if there is fanfiction out there about Homicipher at all so, I’m still trying to figure out how to do their language within our text. I am actually brainstorming a way to fix it😼 but I digress, I love this dude he’s so cute. Also I saw the poll of keeping in game language, but since this is longer I’m doing what @/dav-ulysses suggested and mixed it. maybe shorter blurbs will be in game talking

Warning: blood/syringe, suggestive but not much, experimental writing

As you wake up, you take a look around to try and remember where you are and what you were doing. You see the tattered walls that enclose every room in this magic world and swing your legs over the bed you were resting at. You hear a giggle in front of you and see Mr. Crawling sitting near the door staring at you through his hair. 

“Leave?” He squeaked out, tilting his head.

“No, I’m just going to go explore,” you respond as you open the door and leave. As you turn around, you realize he’s going to follow you as normal. Despite him being so scary and monstrous looking, he’s been more friendly and helpful than most people you’ve met since coming here. People? You give a thought, I can’t tell if I would say people or creatures? You brush off the thought and look around to see Mr. Chopped’s head laying on the counter in the main area with Hand resting next to him. 

You hear a hum as you turn to see Mr. Silvair, “Hello. You okay?” You smile back as an affirmation as he continues, “Want research you.”

You try to reply using their sounds, “Erm…Why research me?”

“Me interested human body. Me want research you,” a pause, “Your likeness previously human. You human here, yes?”

Ah, he wants to research humans. You knew Mr. Silvair was interested in them, given the amount of tools such as syringes, scalpels, and the like whenever he mentioned his research. You also recall his small musings about helping Mr. Chopped get a body of his own, but being warned about how dangerous it would be since it might completely change him and destroy his sentience. Mr. Silvair pulls you out of this rabbit hole of thoughts by clearing his throat and ushering you back into his research room. You smile as confirmation of letting him study you and you follow him into the back of his room. He beckons you to lay, and as you do, he begins talk to you about what he’s been learning. Given the time passed you tried to keep track of, you were starting to understand the language of this world, give or take a few words that you could fill in with context.

Once he is finished his mini rant to himself, he waves his hand to get your attention, “I want to test the difference between human blood and our blood, and what could possibly be leading to the rot of your body, the longer to stay in this ‘realm’ you talk about. Can you let me take your blood?” With an affirmative, he rolls up your sleeve and wipes down your skin with some type of wet cloth and gripping your bicep to make your veins protrude more. “If you do not like watching, do not look,” and with that, you feel the prick of his syringe and the coldness of your blood draining creep in. Before you know it, however, he pulls back and gives you a bandage to cover your bleeding. Looking up at you, he mentions “Humans do not heal like us, but given your time here, you seem to be adapting. It is irregular and I want to know why.”

He pulls back and puts his syringe behind him on a desk with a number of other liquids that you could probably guess would be other creatures’ blood. Some were colored like yours, and some were darker, but most seemed as similar to yours in color than you expected. Mr. Silvair notices this and talks about the difference, but since his back is turned to you, its harder to decipher what exactly he is explaining since you can’t use the crutch of reading his lips to try and match the sounds to the vocabulary words in your dictionary – which Mr. Crawling so kindly gave an empty journal one morning when you offhandly mentioned there are so many words to learn that you are losing track of and need to write down to remember them all.

Seemingly done with his lesson, Mr. Silvair turns back to you and places his hand over your chest. You flinch backwards, questioning what he’s doing and he tilts his head, explaining that he wanted to measure heartbeats since he knows all humans have them, but they are different for some reason. You reply with your knowledge from high school biology about hearts the best that you can and he nods.

“Thank you. Can I check yours to make sure that you are healthy?”

Taken aback, you figure its from a good intention as you remember that certain creatures here have different understands of emotions. Such as Mr. Hooded doesn’t understand liking people and fun and Mr. Crawling thinks being cute is wearing human eats like a cat. You give Mr. Silvair consent to a body check and he thanks you in return. He then places a hand on your chest, the other on your back, and instructs you to breathe deeply. As you do, he seems to be humming in approval and his hands change position across your chest, applying slight pressure each time. 

He does this a few more times before furrowing his brows, “Your heartbeat is getting faster. You okay?” He hums inquisitively before tilting your head up to meet what would be his eyes if not for the fabric covering it. “Its speeding up now that I’m looking at you. Could it be that I make you nervous?” He questions. Your eyes, face suddenly feeling hot, breaks eye contact and you stare at anything other than him. You admit, he is one of the best people here given he taught you so much when you barely understood “yes” or “no,” and continuously took care of and protected you. Not only that, he cares for Mr. Chopped, who is unable to do anything unless you or Mr. Silvair carry and help him. You also admit how charming he is with his long, silver hair, and his handsome face, and–

“I see,” he continues, leaning in and moving his head to look into your eyes again. You lean back, attempting once again to look anywhere other than him. He follows and soon, he is towering over you, slyly smiling as his hand that isn’t holding your face grasps one of your own hands, bringing it up to his chest. Though faint, he does have something resembling a heartbeat, maybe because he’s more human-like than the other creatures here, he might actually have a heart. He moves your hand over his chest till it lands opposite of where a human’s heart would have been. It makes sense, their world is very different and opposite than ours. “I also happen to relate to your heart, human. I enjoy your presence more than I initially expected. Most humans succumb to the festering of their bodies here, or are killed by the hostile others. But you,” he drops your hand on his chest and holds your other hand, bringing them together, and then closer to him, so that you are now mere inches apart, “are exceptional. You are strong, you are smart, you have resisted most of the effects of the festering. You, are special. Very special. I am interested in you. Moreover, I am interested on your body. How strong is it and what would cause it to break, I wonder?”

Feeling the heat in your face spreading through your body, embarrassment evident now, you gasp as he pushes you further with your back on the table. “How are your reflexes, I wonder,” he softly says as he slams a hand near your head, causing you to flinch. “Interesting,” he notes, “How would you react to different types of touching? You react differently based on the individual, I’ve noticed. But I’ve never tested myself. Let’s see…” He then traces ever so light lines up and down your thigh, noting your shivers. “Fascinating,” he continues, then he uses that same hand to caress your face, using his thumb to reassure you. As you lean into it, he hums inquisitively with hints of satisfaction before completely removing himself from you and turns to his vials of blood again, jotting down notes. Stunned, you continue to stare at his back mouth agape before he waves you off saying that he has concluded most of his research and will call upon you again once he needs you. You shift your position and get off the table, quickly readjusting your clothes and heading back out into the main area, Mr. Chopped still asleep with Mr. Crawling sitting outside the room.

“You okay?” he chirps.

“Yes, I’m okay,” you respond, giving him two peace signs which he reciprocates with a giggle.

Well, that was certainly something. 

Tag list: @kiatheinsomniac

[catsvrsdogscatswin]

I've had this thought swirling in the back of my head for a while, but it's finally congealed enough that I think I can make a coherent pitch, which is: I think RWBY's problems with the more vitriolic part of its fanbase partially stems from the fact that RWBY is a deconstruction that doesn't advertise it's a deconstruction.

RWBY's status as a deconstruction is pretty textbook. It takes apart standard fantasy, shounen, and anime tropes in order to analyze them and their deeper meaning and then reassembles them in new and interesting ways for the plot/characters/series. Thing is, it never says that outright in promotional material, which can lead to later outrage in fans.

See, unless their way of discovering new shows is to close their eyes and stab their finger at random, most people tend to choose series to watch/read based on expectations. Maybe a friend said they'll like it because it has [insert thing], maybe they read the summary and were intrigued, maybe they thought the poster/cover art was cool, whatever. These small pieces of information are generally enough for people to make a snap-judgment of the style and genre of the series, which they can then gauge against their personal tastes and decide whether or not they want to try.

Most of the time, this works just fine. Well-written deconstructions also generally give the viewers some warning/buildup before they take a hard swerve. See Madoka Magica: the magical girl paradigm is shaded by the possibility of death as soon as we're introduced to it, then there's an onscreen death with blood, and then a few episodes later we eventually realize the Faustian bargain of it all. Even innocent viewers who stumbled into watching it, unaware of the show's reputation, would go "Oh, wait, this is not going in the direction magical girl shows usually go" by a third of the way through.

The thing is, with RWBY, this does not happen unless you're paying a lot of attention and/or looking for it. And neither the cover art nor the summary nor, I believe, the fanbase gives a lot of warning about the swerves ahead.

In fact, RWBY initially bills itself as a pretty standard shounen anime. The main protagonist is hinted to have Special Powers and gets into the Magic Monster-Hunting School in the first episode, and the first two-and-a-half seasons are taken up by her and her friends' superhero-esque slice-of-life shenanigans as they thwart robberies and terrorist attacks and gear up for a tournament arc against the looming background of a larger conspiracy.

Then in the last half of the third season the villains' entire Rube Goldberg machine of a scheme snaps into completion and the plot twists so hard the entire genre takes a hard right. If you're used to character analysis and common anime tropes, this is not completely a surprise -up until this point, RWBY's character arcs and plot have been subtly traveling in non-traditional directions that hint of greater flexibility in genre treatment ahead- but if you're not... well.

Thing is, people watching RWBY up until this point have signed up for pretty standard shounen and they've been getting it, but the third season's ending smashes that all to bits. From then on out in RWBY, it's like they ordered fries and suddenly got a hamburger. It might be delicious; but it's not what they asked for, what they wanted, or what they paid for, and they are, justifiably, displeased.

So when the reasonable people either adjusted their expectations or sighed, shook their heads, and clicked back out (perhaps with a grumble and a scowl), the unreasonable people dug their heels in and began insisting that everybody was Getting The Show/Character Wrong and that CRWBY is ruining it, because the fact that RWBY's method of deconstruction is to put standard tropes in a blender and then arrange what's left in deceptive patterns means that said unreasonable viewers can scan the bare surface and argue that all the stereotypical stuff is clearly still under there, somewhere.

So they're continually trying to drag RWBY back to the tracks of a typical shounen anime series (it's closest relative), which creates a dissonance between the show they're watching and the show they think they're watching. They're trying to turn the hamburger back into fries, basically, except that doesn't work and just frustrates everyone involved, because you're trying to make RWBY into something that it's not. Hence, this attitude probably starting/fueling some of the more contentious statements in the fandom, i.e.:

"Ironwood was right the whole time" (in most action movies and shounen anime, allied military leaders are trustworthy beyond reproach)

"Adam's character was wasted" (we all know how much shounen loves their powerful warrior antiheroes)

"Ruby and the others are in the wrong about [insert thing]/or for doing [insert thing], and this is bad writing!" (shounen protagonists don't usually make more than One Very Big Mistake over the course of their entire careers, which is usually fixed/overcome/redeemed via an appropriately rigorous training arc)

And to be clear, there's nothing wrong with shounen tropes or shounen anime. They're wonderful storytelling devices in their own way and their own time: but if you want standard by-the-book shounen without any new and interesting concoctions, then RWBY is definitely not the show for you. And most people don't find that out until it's too late.

[vanillabeenflower]

Here’s my 3rd guy, a plastic surgeon with WAY too many magic anthry parents (it/he)

His name is pronounced “bot-sh” but he implores people to call him “Todd” because he really hates it when people can’t pronounce his name

Todd is my answer to a question I had: "What happens if a bunch of magic anthries had a baby?"

It uses "it" more than "he" since he feels like he genuinely doesn’t feel like pronouns that humanize (anthry version) him fit, since he feels like he’s a volatile freak. He obv gets better but for now he doesn’t like being perceived. He ONLY likes being recognized for his abilities and not his appearance.

He has so much magic flowing through his blood that sometimes it comes out when expressing strong emotion. It comes out of the middle horn mostly, it can make it come out of all 5 but only when he’s like REALLY upset.

Being 1/5 ESPer means he gets a very small trace of mind reading. It can only read minds but only if it’s touching the person, and it can’t read objects or words. He can also “turn off” his mind reading but only if he’s concentrating (kinda like holding your breath for a long amount of time).

It inherited small amounts of healing powers but is forced to use them for making plastic surgeries heal faster. It makes it slightly exhausted to use it though, so it just tells them to walk it off and get used to the new surgical additions.

It wants to seek out a relationship, but it genuinely feels scared of falling in love with an enchanthry because of how much magic dna it has, and he’s scared the baby will turn out more magically volatile than him. This also means he might avoid objectum relationships since one stray thought could lead to an egg with a unicorn-dragon-ESPer-objecthry baby and he doesn’t want to wish the bullying he went through on another living creature.

It's name is pronounced "bot-sh" but no one can pronounce it right so it just asks people to call it "Todd". His middle name is pronounced how it looks.

It's obsession with perfection might be a coping mechanism since it views itself as "imperfect," so it spends its time making people the opposite of itself. It has to be its definition of perfect so it takes so many surgeries until he sees fit. It might honestly just be undiagnosed OCD

❤️ L I K E S:

Blacklights, glow-in-the-dark objects, dark and form-hiding clothing, hoodies, old clothes, nail polish, perfection, regular and non-hybrid anthries, his parents

💔 D I S L I K E S:

Wearing clothes that reveal his features (it only doesn't do it in the hospital bc of dress code), children, people that don't do their job well, magic anthries, his parents

Edit: added its full ref

[rustfoxes]

Disjointed DAtVG feelings/opinions

I've played the game for a bit, I'm not too far in yet, and honestly? I hope it gets better. Spoilers & venting below as you might guess.

Everything seems to be tell, don't show. There's very, VERY little trust in the player. Characters happen upon a ruined village? "The village is ruined! There's no one here!" Yes, we can see that. Character looks upset? Text pops up on screen to tell you that IN FACT!! Character is upset. Couldn't have guessed.

Everything is explained out loud immediately, except the arguably actually important things. If I remember correctly, there's no mention of the 10 year (?) timeskip from DAI, everyone just now knows everything about elven magic and the Fade and the Veil EXCEPT FOR THE PLAYER. None of that is explained! New players are expected to just know, which in some games works, but when you throw characters into a magical forest and say it's Arlathan forest, how tf are they supposed to know what Arlathan is.

Why is Varric a brunette all of a sudden

Characterisation of returning characters is fucking wild. Fun, jokey Harding? Massive chip on her shoulder and real aggressive for some reason. Soft-spoken and measured Solas? Yelling, again, for some damn reason. Where is his iambic pentameter? And he hates blood magic all of a sudden?? Did the writers play the earlier games at all? Solas SPECIFICALLY says in DAI that blood magic has no morality to it and is merely a tool.

The game is linear to the extent that I cannot for the life of me see the point of the game asking you to wrap up unfinished business before moving forward. What unfinished business? You've locked us into a small room with 0 exits and 1 chest. There is no business.

So far there's been zero time for any of the story to breathe. There are no story beats, because the drum machine that is the pacing just keeps hammering on. The gravity of the situation has no time to set in for anyone. THE ACTUAL GODS OF MYTH HAVE BEEN BUST OUT OF GOD-JAIL. THIS IS A HUGE FUCKING PROBLEM. "Yeah, well, people would've died if Solas hadn't been stopped from tearing down the Veil." And this is preferable???? What the actual fuck. DAI Solas wanted to rebuild and to safe-guard his people. TWO of the people he wanted to PROTECT EVERYONE FROM are now out. But oh man, that Solas, he would've hurt folks. You think the wondertwins won't? Jesus fucking Christ.

The gameplay more or less just completely scraps character classes. Playing a mage rn and for some damn reason she has separate ranged attacks. What the actual fuck. What is the point of making people choose a class if a damn mage has to stand next to enemies to attack?

So far doesn't feel like an RPG at all. Starts in media res which is fine, but your character is already established as a cool hero and an important figure. Why? Why weren't we along for that ride?

Character movement is janky af, DAI was much smoother 10 damn years ago. Hopefully they'll somehow manage to fix it.

Either they needed better actors or a much better voice director, because holy shit is the dialogue awkward and halting and just... no.

Writers have clearly had shoes far too large to fill. Dialogue wants to be funny and witty and clever. It is not. Specially not with the phoned in voice acting.

Where have my Welsh/Irish elves gone? Wtf happened there? Also why wasn't there anyone around to tell the actors how to pronounce the elvhen words??

Why the fuck is the rogue our healer.

All quests so far have been walking from A to B, collecting some coins along the path, and then fighting 5 or 10 enemies. No variation at all.

Idk man, I really hope the game will find its legs as it goes on, but so far? Massively underwhelming and honestly quite disappointing. Absolutely does not feel like DA. People critisised DA2 for being rushed and DAI for a whole host of shit, but at least I felt like I was playing a Dragon Age game.

[dailyadventureprompts]

Mystery: Oh, How the Iron Coffin Hungers!

There's been a rash of graverobberies across the kingdom that have the authorities suspecting necromancy. For their part, the necromancer's guild has nothing to do with these crimes and is willing to hire your party to help clear their name. The investigation will lead you to through tombs, black markets, and haunted crossroads of the realm, as it becomes clear the culprits are seeking far more than coin or corpses at the bottom of those defiled graves.

Clues & Complications:

A missing body is usually a dead giveaway that a necromancer has been involved in a grave robbery, as most criminals only care about grabbing what valuables they can and wouldn't result to bodysnatching unless someone was going to pay them for it. How unusual then when a few of the bodies begin turning up days after they were exhumed, one in an abandoned cellar, one on the side of the road, and one in a completely different town, which may give a hint as to the culprit's movements.

Working for necromancers has its benefits, the guild is aware of the habits of the corpse trade (only in a theoretical sense, you understand, yes?) and can use their magic to extract information from the cadavers. Strangely enough it appears all the corpses bear the marks of previous magical questioning, hinting that it might be information the robbers were after, not flesh or treasure.

The bodies all belong to minor gentry or well-to-do merchants, the ideal targets for graverobbers who don't mind breaking into a tomb or fussing with a trap (both of which the party might have to do during their investigation) if it means access to better plunder. If the party press deeper however they'll notice a recurring symbol, on a ring or a tattoo or etched into the gravemarker, resembling the crudest sketch of a jawbone.

Just like it seems the party is getting answers, the corpses they've been trailing sit up and lunge for the nearest individual's throat, transformed by dark power into a rampaging ghoul. Chaos ensues as this awakening occurs not just with those corpses that have already been found, but also with those that were previously undiscovered as well as a half dozen or more random bodies scattered across the countryside. Though they seem too possessed with hunger to be capable of speech, if the party manage to restrain one of the ghouls and sate its unholy hunger, they may just get the last few clues they're looking for.

Background: In life all of the bodies belonged to a secret society known as the jawbone club, a bad pun on one of the first mystical objects they'd obtained; a crude weapon made from the skull fragment of some great beast, unearthed on one of their founder's estates by some adventurers clearing a nest of monsters.

Their association started a few generations before as a mostly innocent affair, a nameless but exclusive social lodge where those in the know could smoke and gamble and make the sort of back room deals that occupy much of the energy of the idly wealthy. Those who took an interest in the jawbone realized that whoever held it had greater luck in their personal affairs, in no small part because of the unlucky and sometimes disastrous circumstances that would befall their rivals. They became secretive, an inner circle within the lodge that took on more authority as their powers grew, understanding emerging that if they fed their blood to the jawbone it would grant them power.

Power does not spring from nowhere however, as the weapon was infact an artifact dedicated to the ghoul-saint Doresain, the avatar of a hungry and terrible demon god who was in turn feeding on the hungry ambitions of the inner circle. Unconscious impulses became whispers became visions, as the tithe of blood raised to sacrifices of flesh and fingers, because what was letting the razor teeth of some dead beast scar your body if it meant your hateful old uncle suddenly took ill just after rewriting his will to leave you his fortune.

Things came to a head with Catiro Wayte, the youngest and least favored son of a large noble family. The Wayte clan owned land and mills aplenty and were no strangers to ambition, Catrio and his siblings were practically weaned on it. So when the opportunity came to take hold of his fortune at the price of only a little pain Catrio was only too happy to pay it, and keep on paying so long as he had blood to let and skin to scar. After they'd come to understand what it could do the Jawbone Club had made rules about how often its members could make use of the artifact, fearing not only discovery but one of their number growing in power above the others. Catrio begged, bartered, and blackmailed to jump the line every time he could, hacking away a little more of himself each time, not giving his wounds time to heal up between sacrifices.

One night, when the itch of pride and avarice overwhelmed the pain in his infected flesh Catrio broke into the jawbone's sanctum. It was too late when the others found him in the morning , he'd carved open his belly looking for more of himself to cut away and had died with the artifact buried in his guts. Such heedless sacrifice opened a door for the ravenous hunger of the gnawing god, transforming Catrio's corpse into its mouthpiece, hungry and cruel. For all their resources the Jawbone club were unable to slay their former friend, instead sealing him in the lodge's basement and later an iron coffin they had constructed. They had a select number of their most trusted find a place to entomb Catrio's body (along with the bone it still clutched) in some unknown location and swore all the rest to secrecy, dissolving the jawbone club and swearing never to speak of it for the rest of their days.

The Culprit & The Consequences:

Catrio left much behind on that night he met his end, including a commonborn mistress and a daughter named Heliana only a few years old. One could theoretically source his ambition to his desire to make a place for them in the world, but that would be making things far too simple.  Unrecognized by her father’s family and cut off from Catrio’s support Heliana and her mother ended up scraping to get by, with her ending up in the gravemaking trade out of one part practicality, one part wistful desire to perhaps one day find where her father was buried.

after nearly four decades after she and her mother were forced out on the street, Heliana’s crime spree began when by chance she found the first of the Jawbone marked graves. Remembering the stories her mother had told her about the club and its excesses, It took only a little convincing to have her fellow undertakers help her unearth the body, and a few charms learned from a travelling death priest to get the cadaver talking.  After that it was just a matter of asking which corpse knew what, tracing her way through the postmortem ranks of the Jawbone club until she found out what had happened to her father and where his body lay. 

Originally, all Heliana had wanted to do was give her father a proper burial alongside her some years dead mother, as she was told was always his wish. Plans changed when her father began to speak to her within the iron coffin after she’d unearthed it from its secret hiding space. Through the magic of the ghoul-saint he knew her, knew of her hungry years, and of the long dormant pride and ambition he’d handed down to her along with his blood: a desire to be recognized no matter the cost. He whispered a plan into her mind, a way for him to return to life and use the artifact he still carried to make everything as it should be. Naturally when they caught her agreeing with the corpse, most of Heliana’s muscle deserted her, and might give your party a much needed lead in their tall tales.

The animation of the other jawbone club members as ghouls was only a warning sign, a byproduct of Heliana breaking through the outermost layer of the iron coffin’s wards in preparation of something far more calamitous. Her father’s plan (or rather, the thing wearing her father like a mask) is to have Heliana burn the iron coffin along with her mother's bones in a ritual pyre at the heart of the Wayte estate. Catrio’s spirit will be free, devour the grounds (and his unwelcoming family) and use the power of the jawbone artifact to remake them all as they should be, with him as lord of the manor, united with his lover and child.  While she’s more than willing to even the score with the people who denied her birth and threw her mother out on the street, why Heliana doesn't suspect is the horde of flesh eating undead and other malign spirits that will be unleashed should the ritual be allowed to finish.  

Art 1 Art 2

[cissa-calls]

Foreword to Agatha All Along

After years of waiting, tomorrow witches, marks the anticipated start to Agatha All Along! But, before the first two episodes stream, it's time to take one last crack at discussing some possible theories (and hopes) for the series:

Akin to how Wandavision was an exploration of American Television sitcoms, this series is partially an exploration of depictions of witchcraft and referential to horror in pop culture (the Witched Witch and Glinda from the Wizard of Oz).

Is Rio dead? How does she seem to emerge from the ground on the side of the witches road? Did she and Agatha try to walk it long ago, and Rio perished, thus she is now trapped there forever?

At some point, Agatha will end up alone. She will be walking alone because either everyone has died, or those remaining leave. This however will not be indefinite.

Conversely, it could also recall the beginning when it was just her and the teen, but just the two of them make it out.

I keep thinking of that scene with her and the teen in the metal room, where they both appear to be in patient gowns. Are they in facilities at S.W.O.R.D.? Is the teen crying because Agatha is making him walk through memories and realize his identity?

Agatha's knowledge of the road is either from the Darkhold or what Evanora taught (or rather tried to keep from her daughter).

As a green witch, Rio is connected to plants. Her costume quite literally looks like vines and roots growing are forming the bodice. Are plants relevant in the sense of bloom and regeneration? Or rather decay and withering?

Using, dismantling, subverting, or cannonizing of symbols or tools of witchcraft. From kitschy to terrifying.

The hooded figures who appear in front of the teen, is there one for each member of the coven? Is it a haunted form of themselves, or a twisted appartion assigned to capture each?

Part of this story is found family, and Agatha's fear of comraderie. Built off a lifetime of distrust, backstabbing, and taking, Agatha has to learn to trust. In a similar vein, Agatha has no sense of comfort or home.

The scene where Agatha's face is covered in small cuts or splatters of blood. Either that is the cataylst to a glorifying rise near the end of the show, or a horrifying turn of seemingly irredemtion.

Rio was once Agatha's companion, her only companion. A betrayal between the two sent Agatha into permanent solitude.

I sincerely hope this show explores horror and gives into the darkness that Multiverse of Madness teased. Comic relief is a needed presence, but the tone is overall geared towards darker themes and storylines

Speaking of darkness - night! The majority of this series will take place at night! At least the juicy and important scenes.

DOES AGATHA POSSESS THE DARKHOLD AGAIN OR WAS ITS APPEARANCE IN A FLASHBACK

When Agatha was young and on the run, she was targeted for possessing the Darkhold.

Rio and Agatha...history may call them the best of friends.

The Ballad of the Witche's Road might be sung in several versions/genre's (we've already heard two)

More lyrics of the ballad will be revealed and sung as the story progresses.

The Witches Road may be terrible, but it is a unifying force as it welcomes everyone. Remember the lyrics: "Seekest thou the road, all that's foul and fair," the road is a living thing, inviting everyone but casting judgement on those who can achieve

I will cry at some point. I am certain this will break me just as Wandavision broke me.

The glowing tree in the middle of the Witch's Road has something hidden beneath and growing within the roots. (Is it the heart of the Road, because it is a living legend?)

Each of the witches will have to confront their greatest fears manifested as scenes, memories, or landscapes of their personal hells. Only when they begin to trust each other or confront/admit their weakness can their proceed. Agatha would obviously have the final and hardest challenge.

Without her magic, such a core tenant of her identity and confidence, Agatha will be even more combatative and threatening (borne entirely out of insecurity).

Agatha's cameo, and the lock of hair in it, is a reminder of her humanity and connection.

At some point, Agatha will break, spilling out centuries worth of every held back, messy emotion (and Kathryn Hahn will SERVE).

Perhaps it is based on the obvious Eve allegory, but there will be more biblical allegories or subversions. Is Agatha being born anew?

Teen and Señor Scratchy bond. It is likely a trauma bond. (The rabbit may also gain a more horrifying form or eat an entire monster/adversary)

Elaborate outfit reveal. ELABORATE FINALE COSTUME OUTFIT REVEAL! AGATHA ACHIEVES ENLIGHTMENT AND HER MOST POWERFUL FORM WHEN SHE FINALLY RECLAIMS HER MAGIC...possibly foiling Wanda when she became the Scarlet Witch.

This is not an exhaustive list, but it will be interesting to compare these ideas to how the show actually plays out. In all of this excitement, there is still a touch of trepidation. After pouring so much love into counting down the days to release and yielding art, writing, research, and costumes for this character, Agatha has remained a fun force of exploration and expression for me. However, the excitement over seeing where Kathryn Hahn takes the character next assuages any and all fears, as we finally will confront who exactly Agatha was all along.

Get ready witches, it's time to walk the road.

[dragon-queen21]

im sorry i wanted to submit this earlier, but i really wanted to at least do it on halloween since, well, its my birthday! listen man i get to brag and talk about this once a year, its my favorite holiday!!!!

but in honor of halloween, hereesss hmmm what do we have here? how about regressor sanji with the crew on halloween!!!

- luffy would LOVE halloween he woukd love the idea of dressing up and getting candy? dude are you serious i can smell luffy from a mile away, he would get the crew to dress up, especially if sanji (or anyone else) is small, its mandatory you see.

-OMG SMALL SANJI WEARING A SHEET WITH HOLES IN IT AND SAYING HES A GHOST

[ “m a ghost! ‘ook! ‘ook! m a ghost!”

“youre a ghost? ooh! so scary!” ]

- baby sanji loves brook during halloween, hes literally a skeleton! so spooky, brook knows this. i dont think he’d find it offensive or anything, i think hed be more happy someone finds joy in his new form during the season

- so. much. candy. sanji really doesnt have much of a sweet tooth, but when hes little, paired with halloween and luffy, usopp, and chopper in your ear about candy, sanji ends up eating so much of it that nami/robin end up having to deal with a very much sugar crashed sanji.

- zoro ends up scaring sanji somehow because he thinks its gonna be funny, but he ends up making their baby cry (he ends up bribing sanji with candy to stop crying before nami or robin comes) (it works)

- unrelated but i like the idea of franky being giving a halloween costume by nami or something and it ends uo being like a bunny. THATS SO FUNNY a huge robot man dressing up as a fluffy bunny makes me actually giggle

- sanji would love to carve pumpkins and then help someone make pumpkin pie with the remains or something. idk how to make pumpkin pie filling but i imagine its with pumpkin

- robin would tell great scary stories, but just age appropriate enough to where she doesnt make sanji cry ☹️

^ usopp too!! hed be much more of an animated storyteller then robin, doing crafts with usopp:) oh my goodness!!!

OKAYIN DONE BECAUSE IN DO TIRED AND I NEED TO POST FOR BIRTHDAY STUDFS EEEEEEK

📷

Oh my gosh! Happy happy birthday!!!!! Sendings you so many treats! Birthday and spooky ones!

~Brook would dress like a pirate, mostly because he would want to get a plastic skeleton bird and put it on his shoulder

~Luffy would also eat way to much candy while out trick or treating, and even if he’s stopped they get back to the ship and he eats it all there

~Also Sanji is literally me. I was handing out candy and just munching on chocolates the while time. Being half regressed means baby brain does not understand self control when there is just a pile of sweets in front of you. Kind of sugar crashed now as I am writing this bleh…

~Zoro with fake blood or with one of those headband pieces that looks like an axe or and arrow went theough his head, and Sanji just sobs, until Zoro takes off the headband and in a rush explains that it’s all fake

“Zoro mean.”

“Shi- I mean umm, look you want my candy? If you stop crying you can have as much as you want”

(Starts now crying because he eats too much and has a belly ache)

~I can imagine it makes Robin laugh which is enough to sell Franky on the idea when before he only put it on to be polite

~I believe it’s using the white part of the rind, the flesh I believe it’s called. Cooking it first like how you might do with an acorn squash. Then you boil it to cook it down more and then add umm…. I forgot what you add next umm something that I can’t remember umm… ✨magic ✨ yup mhm that was it :3

It is a very tedious process that my mom has done when I was super young exactly one time. Robin might have the patience to set it up and then have the little help her make the pie crust and pour into the pan.

~See Robin is more of a child’s story book reader (Sanji would love the book Ten Timid Ghosts) and Usopp is a ‘come up with a ghost story on the fly’

Bye friend! Hope you had an amazing birthday!!!! I am going to go watch spooky cartoons now and eat more candy >:3

[paingoes]

Destroyer - Golem

(Masterlist)

cooked this up on the fly its 3am here. this is at some unspecified point in the timeline

(Content: living weapon whumpee, magical exhaustion, painful powers, blood, alcohol mention, overexertion, dehumanization, implied physical abuse)

=======================

It was going to be a bloodbath. Paris slid down the volume on the earpiece, trying to listen in to the real chaos around him. He was reminded why he hated to get this close to the action. The dead and injured laid everywhere, melting in the heat. He was on the ridge, at least. He couldn’t say the same for most of his men. They were in the valley, totally cornered. All he could do was watch.

It wasn’t immediately clear what had trapped them in. At first it seemed like a normal rock mound that blocked off their exit. No big deal. They had demolitions for a reason.

Then the rocks began to swivel upwards, revealing the steel rods that connected them, the barely-humanoid shape. Golem.

Paris called it in on the radio; even then, he knew it was too late. The early stone demos had already burned their names in the imperial history — the Bane of St.James, Western Scourge, Titania. This one was a new model, one they’d been given time to perfect. This battle was going to be the sea change. Paris resisted the urge to close his eyes as the giant’s mace emerged out of the earth. It was the coward’s way out. He resolved to watch the violence unfold, to see the whole planetary operation blow up in his face. It wouldn’t be the first time. 

The golem assembled entirely. Its feet were still planted in the pit of the valley, but its head stretched up to where Paris is perched on the ridge. For just a second, it turned its empty sockets to look at him. His heart beat out of his chest.

And just like that, it was gone. The air filled with dust and electricity, then just dust.

“Target eliminated,” Dr.Martino’s voice rang over the radio. He sounded smug. For good reason, maybe. There were less than thirty seconds in between Paris making the warning call and the total obliteration of the threat. He felt dizzy. The particle debris clouded his visor.

Paris rounded back to the mountain base. It was only a fifteen minute climb. The war room was stashed safely within the stone enclave; it was reserved for only the highest ranking officials. It was also where they’d stashed Delta. Paris honest-to-god had not planned on using him for this mission; he’d just needed the insurance. His dizziness was not going away. He punched the code into the padlock, forcing himself to stabilize before he could enter.

The mood there was celebratory, obviously. Pinching a golem was a feat they make badges for. His ears perked up at the mention of champagne, but something else had caught his eye first.

Delta was totally collapsed by the viewport. There was small puddle of blood by his head. This was…not an uncommon sight. Delta’s powers took a lot out of him. It manifested as bleeding from the nose and mouth more than anything else — sometimes the eyes, if it was really bad. But he wasn’t supposed to be alone during it. It was dangerous. Paris knelt down beside him, feeling for a pulse. Not only was he alive, he was conscious. Paris felt him flinch away from the touch, taking ragged, shallow breaths.

The doctor — the one Paris paid to look after him — was engrossed in a story with the general. He gesticulated wildly, spilling some of his drink over onto the floor. They were all the way across the room. Paris had to shout to get their attention.

“Hello, you? What the fuck?” Paris called out, gesturing to the crumpled form of the psychic. 

Dr.Martino turned away from his conversation. There was a twinge of annoyance written into his features. 

“What? He overexerted himself. Leave him alone.” He said it like it was the most casual thing in the world. Paris hesitated, because it might have been. He’s seen Delta out like this before. He was usually fine after a couple hours. Besides, it didn’t seem like he was even able to be moved right then. Reluctantly, Paris stepped away.

The call for ceasefire came in a few minutes later. It got a big laugh out of everyone. Paris was relieved. It meant he’d get to go home for a few days, at the minimum. He didn’t like this planet. On a personal level, he didn’t care if it was left to the vultures. Of course, official policy was a different story.

“We’re leaving,” Paris crossed the room to Martino. It wasn’t a request. The doctor sighed, putting the cup down. He looked back to the general in mock apology, so sorry to be pulled away from the riveting conversation.

Delta still hadn’t moved. He didn’t stir until Martino approached. The doctor snapped his fingers.

“Get up.”

Incredibly, Delta sat up. He wiped the blood off his face with the sleeve of his shirt. Not all of it, but enough that it wasn’t actively spilling on him whenever he moved. He started to stand, but didn’t quite make it upright. He landed on his hands and knees, just catching his head from hitting the ground.

“Delta.” There was a warning edge in the doctor’s voice. Delta stood up, stumbled a few steps, and immediately collapsed again. 

Dr.Martino began to move towards him.

“Oh, I don’t fucking have time for this,” Paris snapped. It was the tone he took that made people start listening. He had a gift for that. The room around him quieted. Martino stopped.

Paris scooped Delta up from the floor. It wasn’t hard. The boy was short in comparison and he weighed less than Paris’s own rucksack. Delta was too out of it to have any real reaction to the sudden movement, just a small wince. His head lolled weakly against Paris’s shoulder.

“We’re leaving.” Paris repeated. He really hated this planet.

[adrealucia]

New Beginnings

tags: post Blood Brothers ending, Sean Diaz x Reader, might contain smut in future chapters, lots of fluff, romantic fluff, overall just fucking wholesome, obviously mentions Daniel quite often, sfw in the beginning, maybe nsfw in the future idk, definitely slow burn

chapter summary: the morning after the storm, Mrs. Perez and Spanish lessons. also, I used lots of Spanish dialogue, but I made sure to translate everything! hope this doesn't bother you :)

Chapter four

The morning light filters through the windows, casting a soft, golden glow over the living room. The storm has passed, leaving a serene, almost magical stillness in its wake. You wake up to the gentle sound of birds chirping, a stark contrast to the thunderous roar of the night before.

You stretch and blink, taking in your surroundings. Sean is still asleep, his arm draped protectively over Daniel, who is curled up between the two of you. The sight brings a warm smile to your face, but there’s also a flicker of uncertainty. You’re in the home of near strangers, even if they’ve been nothing but kind to you.

Carefully, you slip out from under the blanket, trying not to wake the brothers. You tiptoe to the kitchen, deciding to make breakfast as a small gesture of gratitude for their hospitality. You find some eggs, tortillas, and a few vegetables in the fridge, and you set to work making breakfast burritos.

The sizzle of the frying pan and the aroma of cooking food eventually rouse Sean. He stretches, yawning widely, and looks around, momentarily disoriented. When he sees you in the kitchen, a smile spreads across his face.

“Morning,” he says, his voice still rough with sleep. “You didn’t have to do that.”

You turn, spatula in hand, and smile back. “Morning. I figured it was the least I could do after you guys let me crash here. How do you like your eggs?”

“Scrambled is fine,” Sean replies, getting up and gently nudging Daniel awake. “Hey, bud. Breakfast is almost ready.”

Daniel stirs, rubbing his eyes and yawning. “Morning,” he mumbles sleepily. “Did the storm stop?”

“Yeah, it’s over,” Sean assures him. “Come on, let’s eat.”

The three of you sit around the small kitchen table, enjoying the breakfast you’ve prepared. The atmosphere is light and relaxed, the previous night’s tension a distant memory.

“This is really good,” Sean says between bites. “Thanks for making breakfast.”

You smile, feeling a sense of contentment mixed with a touch of apprehension. “It’s my pleasure. I’m just glad we all made it through the storm okay.”

After breakfast, you all pitch in to clean up. The power is still out, but the morning sun provides plenty of light. Sean and Daniel take care of the dishes while you tidy up the living room, folding blankets and fluffing the couch cushions.

As you work, you can’t help but feel a bit unsure about your place here. Sean and Daniel are clearly close, their bond palpable. You’re grateful for their kindness, but you’re still an outsider, a stranger who happened to be caught in a storm.

“So, what’s the plan for today?” you ask, looking at Sean.

He glances outside at the clear, blue sky. “First, we need to check the garage and make sure everything’s okay there. Then, we should see if anyone in town needs help. Storms like that can cause a lot of damage.”

Daniel nods enthusiastically. “I can help, too!”

You smile at his eagerness, feeling a bit more at ease. “Sounds like a good plan. Let’s get to it.”

The three of you head to the garage, stepping over puddles and debris left by the storm. The garage itself seems to have held up well, thanks to your combined efforts the night before. There’s some minor water damage, but nothing that can’t be fixed with a bit of work.

Sean inspects the tools and equipment, making a mental note of what needs attention. “We did a good job last night. This could have been a lot worse.”

You nod in agreement. “Definitely. Let’s get started on the repairs. The sooner we’re done here, the sooner we can help the town.”

By mid-morning, the garage is in order, and you all head into town. The streets are muddy, and some buildings show signs of damage, but there’s a sense of community as everyone pitches in to help each other.

One of the stops you make is at the tiny restaurant owned by Mrs. Perez, the sweet elderly woman who you met a couple of days ago. The restaurant has suffered some damage: a few broken windows, a flooded storeroom, and debris scattered around. Mrs. Perez is clearly distressed.

“Sean! Daniel!” Mrs. Perez exclaims when she sees them, relief washing over her face. She switches to rapid Spanish, her words filled with warmth and gratitude. “¡Gracias a Dios! Necesito ayuda con todo este desastre.”

“¡Claro, señora Perez! Estamos aquí para ayudar,” Sean replies with a smile. He turns to you and translates, “She needs help with the mess.”

You nod, rolling up your sleeves. “Let’s get to it.”

The three of you work quickly and efficiently. Sean and Daniel handle the heavy lifting and repairs, while you help Mrs. Perez clean the flooded storeroom and clear debris. She chatters away in Spanish, occasionally pausing to give you a kind smile or a word of encouragement, despite the language barrier.

“¿Cómo puedo ayudar más?”(how can I help more?) you ask, your Spanish still shaky but improving.

Mrs. Perez smiles warmly. “Estás haciendo un buen trabajo. Gracias, mi niña.” (You are doing a good job. Thank you my girl.)

As you scrub the floors and organize the storeroom, you feel a growing sense of connection to this place and its people. Mrs. Perez’s kindness and the easy camaraderie with Sean and Daniel make the hard work feel rewarding.

By the time you’ve finished, the restaurant looks much better. Mrs. Perez is visibly relieved and grateful. “Muchas gracias, mis niños,” she says, her eyes shining with gratitude. “Por favor, quédense a almorzar. Es lo menos que puedo hacer.”

“She wants us to stay for lunch,” Sean translates, smiling. “She insists.”

You smile back, feeling a bit more at home. “I’d love that.”

Mrs. Perez bustles around the kitchen, whipping up a delicious meal. The aroma of fresh tortillas, beans, and sizzling meat fills the air, making your stomach rumble. She sets the table with care, placing a generous spread before you.

“¡A comer!” she says, gesturing for you all to sit.

As you eat, the conversation flows easily. Sean and Daniel talk with Mrs. Perez in Spanish, and she occasionally looks at you, speaking slower and with a kind smile, trying to include you.

“¿Te gusta la comida?” (Do you like the food?)  she asks, her eyes twinkling.

You look at Sean for a translation, but you have a feeling you understand. “Sí, me gusta mucho,” (Yes, I like it a lot.)  you reply, hoping your pronunciation is passable.

Mrs. Perez beams at you. “¡Muy bien! Ahora necesitas aprender más español.”

Sean laughs. “She says you need to learn more Spanish.”

You laugh too, feeling a warm sense of camaraderie. “I’d like that.”

The rest of the meal is filled with light-hearted conversation and laughter. Sean and Daniel teach you a few more phrases, and Mrs. Perez corrects your pronunciation with gentle patience. You start to feel more comfortable, the initial uncertainty giving way to a growing sense of belonging.

After lunch, Mrs. Perez insists on giving you all a bag of freshly made tamales to take home. “Para más tarde,” (This is for later)  she says with a wink.

“Gracias, señora Perez,” you say, your Spanish improving with each interaction.

As you leave the restaurant, the sun is high in the sky, and the town is buzzing with activity as everyone works together to recover from the storm. The sense of community is palpable, and you feel grateful to be a part of it, even if just for a little while.

Back at the Diaz house, you help Sean and Daniel unpack the tamales and clean up from the day’s work. The house feels warmer, and more familiar now. You’re still getting to know Sean and Daniel, but the kindness and hospitality they’ve shown you make you feel hopeful about the future.

“Thanks for sticking around and helping out,” Sean says as you all settle back into the living room. “It means a lot.”

You smile, feeling a deep sense of belonging mixed with lingering uncertainty. “I’m glad I could help. You guys have made me feel like I am part of your family.”

Daniel nods, his eyes bright. “You are part of the family now.”

Sean wraps an arm around his brother, pulling him close. “Yeah, you are. And that means we’re here for you, too.”

The three of you sit together, the events of the past day and night bringing you closer. As the first stars appear in the sky, you know that no matter what storms may come in the future, you’ll face them together. But you also remind yourself to take things one step at a time, allowing trust and friendship to grow naturally, grateful for this newfound bond and the sense of hope it brings.

The following morning, you wake up in your own place, feeling a sense of anticipation for the day ahead. After a quick breakfast, you gather your business plans and head over to the Diaz house, excited to start bringing your ideas to life.

When you arrive, Sean is already in the garage, tinkering with a car engine. He looks up and grins as you approach. "Morning, sunshine. Ready to get down to business?"

"Always," you reply with a playful wink. "Got a lot of ideas to share. Hope you’re ready."

Sean chuckles, wiping his hands on a rag. "Bring it on. Let’s see what you’ve got."

You both settle at a makeshift desk in the garage, spreading out your notes and sketches. As you discuss the expansion plans, Sean’s enthusiasm matches your own. His insights are practical and detailed, complementing your more strategic ideas.

"What if we add a small waiting area for customers?" you suggest. "Someplace they can relax with a coffee while their car gets fixed."

"Good idea," Sean agrees. "And maybe a display for car accessories. Could be a nice upsell."

As you continue brainstorming, the conversation flows easily, punctuated by moments of light-hearted banter.

"So, any chance you’re secretly a car expert, too?" Sean teases, leaning in slightly.

You laugh, shaking your head. "Not quite. But I’m a quick learner. You might just have to teach me a thing or two."

"Consider it a deal," Sean says with a playful glint in his eye.

The hours fly by, and by lunchtime, you’ve made significant progress on the business plans. Just as you’re about to suggest a break, Mrs. Perez arrives, carrying a basket filled with delicious-smelling food.

“¡Hola, mis niños!” she greets, her smile as warm as the sun. “He traído algo para almorzar.” (I brought something for lunch.)

“Hola, señora Perez,” Sean says, his face lighting up. “Perfect timing. We were just about to take a break.”

You help Mrs. Perez set up the lunch spread, the aroma of freshly made tortillas and roasted chicken making your stomach rumble. She chats animatedly in Spanish, occasionally switching to slower, simpler sentences for your benefit.

“¿Cómo va el negocio?”(How is business going?)  she asks, looking at your notes with interest.

“Va bien,” you reply, proud of your progress. “Tenemos muchas ideas nuevas.” (We have many new Ideas)

Mrs. Perez beams at you, clearly pleased. “¡Muy bien! Estoy segura de que tendrán mucho éxito.” (Very good, I am sure you guys will be successful.)

As you eat, the conversation is lively and filled with laughter. Mrs. Perez teaches you a few new Spanish phrases, and her patience and encouragement make the learning process enjoyable.

“Repeat after me,” she says, smiling. “La comida está deliciosa.” (the food is delicious)

“La comida está deliciosa,” you repeat, hoping your pronunciation is correct.

Mrs. Perez claps her hands. “¡Perfecto! Muy bien.”

Sean grins at you. “Not bad. Pretty soon, you’ll be fluent.”

You roll your eyes playfully. “Yeah, right. But I’m trying.”

After lunch, you return to the garage, where Sean has already started working on a customer’s car. He glances up as you approach, a playful smile on his face.

“Ready to get your hands dirty?” he asks, handing you a pair of gloves.

“Absolutely,” you reply, slipping them on. “Show me what to do, boss.”

Sean raises an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Boss, huh? I could get used to that.”

You laugh, nudging him lightly. “Don’t let it go to your head. Now, what’s next?”

As the afternoon progresses, you work side by side with Sean, learning the basics of car repair. He’s a patient teacher, and his explanations are clear and easy to follow. You can’t help but admire his skill and dedication, and the way his eyes light up when he talks about his work.

By the end of the day, you’ve made significant progress both on the business plans and in your newfound mechanical skills. You’re sweaty and tired, but there’s a sense of accomplishment that makes it all worthwhile.

“Thanks for today,” you say as you pack up your things. “I had a lot of fun. And I learned a lot, too.”

“Anytime,” Sean replies, his smile warm and genuine. “You’re a quick learner. Maybe we’ll make a mechanic out of you yet.”

You laugh, feeling a flutter of excitement at the prospect. “I’m looking forward to it.”

The next few days follow a similar pattern. You spend your mornings working on the business plans and helping out in the garage, and your afternoons practicing Spanish with Mrs. Perez. The easy camaraderie with Sean and Daniel continues to grow, and you find yourself looking forward to each day with a sense of anticipation.

One afternoon, after a particularly productive session at the garage, you head over to Mrs. Perez’s restaurant. She greets you with her usual warmth, immediately launching into another Spanish lesson.

“Hoy vamos a aprender sobre los ingredientes de la cocina,” (Today we are going to learn about cooking ingredients.)  she says, pointing to various items in the kitchen. “Repite después de mí: tomate.”

“Tomate,” you repeat, enjoying the rhythmic flow of the words.

Mrs. Perez smiles approvingly. “Muy bien. Ahora, cebolla.” (very good, now onion)

As the lesson continues, you feel more confident in your Spanish skills, the words coming more easily with each repetition. Mrs. Perez’s patient guidance makes all the difference, and you’re grateful for her kindness.

Later, as you help her prepare a batch of tamales, Sean arrives to check on your progress. He leans against the doorframe, watching with a bemused smile.

“Looks like you’re getting the hang of it,” he says, his eyes twinkling.

You grin, feeling a sense of pride. “Yeah, thanks to Mrs. Perez. She’s a great teacher.”

Mrs. Perez chuckles, patting your shoulder. “Eres una buena estudiante. Y Sean, deberías estar orgulloso de ella.” (You are a good student and Sean, you should be proud of her.) 

“I am,” Sean replies, his gaze lingering on you. “Very proud.”

As you finish up in the kitchen, the three of you share a meal, the atmosphere warm and relaxed. The flirty banter between you and Sean becomes more natural, the playful exchanges adding a spark to your interactions.

“So,” Sean says, leaning closer, “how do you say ‘You’re doing a great job’ in Spanish?”

You smile, meeting his gaze. “Estás haciendo un gran trabajo.”

“Estás haciendo un gran trabajo,” Sean repeats, his voice low and sincere. “You really are.”

Your heart skips a beat at the intensity in his eyes. “Thanks, Sean. That means a lot.”

authors note: as always I hope you liked this chapter! I am sorry if any of the Spanish phrases are wrong, I do not speak a word of Spanish :) I hope you like Mrs. Perez as much as I do. Btw Sean and the reader are now getting a little bit more flirty (still sfw tho) just to let you know <3

[littjara-mirrorlake]

If Blood Magic exists, Do you think Phyrexians can cast Oil Magic? What would that even look like? I know we have at least a card that references oil divination but is that it?

Ichor magic is a huge part of Phyrexian arcana and culture! That tends to be what Phyrexian mana represents—drawing on your own life force to power spells. This could be related to the deeply magical properties of Phyrexian oil and the fact that it apparently contains millions of tiny powerstones, not to mention millennia of ancestral memory and experience.

It really fits with the Phyrexian idea that everything is a resource up to and including your own blood, which also powers megastructures and industrial machinery. Phyrexian empire literally runs on the blood of its people. From a less oppressive standpoint, ichor magic could also be seen as pouring the essence of yourself into your magical work, literally the stuff of memory and heredity.

We don't have a whole lot of detail about what ichor magic is actually done, however. What we do know that ichor scrying can be done actively while awake, but that Phyrexians also tend to receive dreams about the past or future, probably less voluntarily. Ichor divination is an introspective process, as all the information to be sought is already contained and hidden in one's own body. Notably, Phyrexians tend to send flying bloodsuckers after their enemies, and the extracted oil from targets might be used to scry on them. Divination definitely seems like the primary focus, but other disciplines could include necromancy, combat magic, and even healing of other Phyrexians.

Headcanon: I think that though every compleat Phyrexian has the potential to harness basic ichor magic, it's also a deeply specialized discipline that a small number of mages spend their entire lives unraveling. Ichormages are extremely valuable but unsettle even other Phyrexians with the way they seem to see straight through people into their veins, and also tend to burn out their lives channeling spells after too short a time.

Kraynox, the Deep Thane, is likely the most powerful of these mages on New Phyrexia.

As for what it looks like? Again, very few canonical references, but I imagine a mage crackling with power as their eyes and open wounds seep with ichor, which swirls into a maelstrom around their increasingly broken form as they chant loudly in Phyrexian.

Weirdly enough, Silverquill has been my best reference when I do art of ichormages at work.

That's how I imagine ichor magic at its peak. An utterly breathtaking aerial display of glistening oil, with a trembling, exhausted mage draining their own life force at the center of it all, spending all of themself for a moment of epic power.

[kradogsrats]

so I started a whole thing for the "Blue Roses" Kpp'Ar and Rayla prompt from @dragonprincedrabbles but then was like "tumblr user raayllum is going to do this way better and also I want to write my crack ship while no one can stop me," so Kpp'Ar/Lujanne nonsense

—

The dark mage—former dark mage—has barely been returned to the living world for a single day when Lujanne catches him menacing her rosebushes.

At least, that's what it initially seems—he skulks in the shadow of an overgrown column, leaning on the gnarled stick the young Earthblood elf coaxed into the shape of a cane for him. His fingers pinch around the slender stem of one perfect blue flower, preparing to tear it free.

She steps forward, ready to admonish him for everything from his ill manners as a guest in her home to his claiming a redemption he has not earned—then stops, watching as he gently bends the rose toward him, leaning closer to inhale its sweet, almond-like fragrance. Some change in the shadows on his face softens his expression, the slight downturn of his lips shifting from cold to sorrowful. Beneath the severe angle of his brows, his eyes are closed, dark lashes stark against his pale face.

He breathes in the rose's scent again, lingering over it before carefully returning the flower to its place.

Her indignation cooled, Lujanne coughs lightly to announce her presence before approaching. He doesn't acknowledge her, but neither does he move away when she stands at his side.

"You should be resting," she says. "It takes more than one night to recover from a a week of what you endured, much less twelve years."

"I plan to," he replies absently, brushing the backs of his fingers over the petals of another blossom, "but I found myself compelled to stop and admire your roses. I saw their like, once—a long time ago."

The delicate blue roses grow nowhere else but deep within Xadia, cultivated primarily in her people's sacred spaces. A small part of her wants to ask which shrine he'd defiled with his presence. The rest, lapsed into irreverence well over a century ago, is more curious as to how he'd escaped the consequences of such a trespass.

"You're well-traveled," she says, indulging neither.

"I rarely had any appreciation for the places I visited. The folly of youth and ambition, to think there will always be another time." His quiet sigh is heavy with emotion—sorrow and shame and regret, embraced in a slow swell of contemplative acceptance. "I didn't stop for the roses, the time I saw them."

"I can't imagine how you would have, with at least a half-dozen rangers on your heels." She meets his sharp glance with a wry smile, waving a hand to encompass the river of roses that lines the temple path. "By all means—take your time, now."

"A second chance I don't intend to waste," he says, equally wry. His expression is inscrutable, but the way he dips his head in a cursory bow manages to straddle a charming line between gentlemanly and sardonic.

They watch in silence as the evening breeze ripples over the roses, the flickering motion of petals like glimmering water in the fading light. The same current stirs his hair, black and white shifting like moonlight glimpsed through a tree's shadowy branches.

"It's funny, in a way," he murmurs.

"What is?"

"Even if I had stopped, I don't think I would have seen them. Not truly." He looks down at the roses, his eyes shadowed. "When I chose to cease practicing dark magic, I could still have told you a dozen uses for Xadian blue roses—their petals, their thorns, their roots, the fruits that carry their seeds. Before that, in my youth, I might have gone on to invent a dozen more."

Lujanne raises an eyebrow. Her own eyes, her horns, her bones and blood are all commodities for a dark mage's craft. Most of his kind would see an elf as more alike to the rosebush than to themselves, nothing more than a collection of parts with varying levels of usefulness and value.

"And now?" she prompts lightly.

"Now, all of that—it doesn't matter, anymore. The roses are beautiful." He turns to her, a smile blossoming on his face. "It's all beautiful, and I can finally see it."

His eyes are so dark as to be almost black, but it's not the cold, empty blackness of dark magic's endless hunger. It's the darkness of a new moon, luminous with promise that, even if it's only sliver by sliver, the light will return.

She likes the way they crinkle at the corners. She likes that his smile is wide enough for them to do so.

The moon rises, a sharp, winking crescent in the iridescence of the purpling twilight sky.

"They are," she says, feeling her own smile bloom. Her eyes crinkle at the corners. "It is."

[dark-twist-fairytales]

(Maybe because Clayton was very insistent on getting into that hunters cabinet, but hey! This time it pays off because his daughter now has a weapon to defend herself. (Idk why but I hc that Claras family are all very good hunters, them having amassed their wealth like that. Emmys grandpa, Claras dad, probably taught her how to shoot when they visited))

The second Clayton notices shes injured he's fretting immediately, this might actually be the first time the others that arent Shep and Vic see his truer personality, not a stoic man but a concerned father.

Also, yeah, Emmy immitating her dads routines even if she gets nothing out of it is adorable.

Emmy would be tired from death house, being a child and all, so she falls asleep on the beds almost the second Clayton finishes dressing her knee ("No, Sarnax, your fire won't be...necessary).

He's conflicted about leaving her alone in the bedroom, since they did say they would speak with Ismark, but he doesnt want to move her in case she wakes up. He tells the others to go on without him as he takes several minutes to cast alarm and make sure that all the windows are locked.

After that he carefully closes the door, locking it so no one can reach his child. They go down and speak with Ismark, he examines the pastry and they do still indulge (later when the truth is revealed he's so grateful that Emmy fell asleep before they ate them)

They find out about Ireena and still do agree to help Ismark. Clayton only takes a sip of the alcohol but stops there "I don't believe its wise to indulge when I have a child I must care for."

The group goes to bed (Shep even more drunk since he drank the professors pints as well), he'd gently move some hair out of Emmys face before taking some spare pillows and making himself comfortable on the floor next to the bed. Now they have a goal, help Ismark and Ireena.

(That man can sleep sitting, standing or whichever way his body decides)

If I'm remembering from that episode, he casted alarm on the room with Victoria and Kana in the room while Shepherd and Sarnax went downstairs, having even more of a reason to do so now, before they joined them downstairs. And yeah, Emmy being asleep while him and Kana eat the dream pastries is a blessing in disguise.

It would be funny if Emmy woke up before them and dug around in the case for a better suited outfit than a bustling dress (she can make do, but she has the resources, she would rather not), and suddenly the cross bow has a place on her back, the bolts on her hip, and better protection than thin fabric.

It doesn't look fancy, like someone would expect from Breeg, but instead it looks rough, used, a small bit baggy. She knows how to hunt, she remembers what her grandfather has taught her. And if they wake up to her dad's case open and her cleaning the crossbow, making sure that it was up to par, they say nothing. And if Clayton only asks how her knee's feeling while tying her hair back to keep it from being tangled, it's just another morning in the Azran expedition.

(Mechanically, I think she would either dual-class as a ranger/wizard, or go full ranger (different than Shepherd) with some a magic feature of some kind.)

Shepherd is still a wildly better ranger than her (having been alive longer than her), but she can casts a good amount of damaging spells, if she ever runs out of bolts/needs to in a pinch.

Oh, I just realized, Sarnax would still be so confused about Clayton's father-like tendencies. Asking something like "Is it normal for.. Humans to fret over their young this much?" And Shepherd responding back with "Yeah, most humanoids in general fret over their children like that, 'specially after nearly dyin'. Clayton ain't no different. Hells, if anythin' were to happen to that child, I'll murder in cold blood."

[sky-fire-forever]

Happy Friday! Perhaps for Viago & Rook, ❛ clean yourself up. you're getting blood all over the place. ❜ from the dialogue prompts?

Thank you so much for this prompt! I enjoyed it a lot and I'm actually pretty proud of how this turned out (even though it has so little to do with the prompt itself, oops)

My Rook in this one is Voltah de Riva, who uses they/them pronouns!

Voltah de Riva was always a small thing, tiny and weak and frail. They stood shorter than even the other elves in their age range and were every bit as skinny, bones prominently on display even before they were recruited into the Crows. 

Recruited might be a strong word. They were scooped up off the streets after a Crow watched them murder an older boy in cold blood over a loaf of stale bread. Still, they had a choice to accept the Crow's offer or spend whatever was left of their life starving on the streets of Treviso. 

They chose the Crows. 

Viago had also chosen the Crows when presented with the option, but he'd been in far better shape than the struggling orphan Voltah had been. He'd been fitter, stronger, more capable. Of course he'd excelled where many failed. 

He hadn't expected Voltah to last long. He'd expected them to be little more than a training dummy, destined for death at the hands of the other trainees. They were so small, after all, and almost entirely untrained. A child of no more than nine years old and they knew their way around a bow and how to clean a kill with a knife, but their magic was wild and unpredictable. Surely they'd be a goner in close quarters or as soon as they came across a person who knew how to hunt people rather than wild game. 

Much to Viago's surprise, Voltah did not fail. They learned to control their magic and used their size to their advantage, uncovering tricks of appearing helpless and innocent to manipulate targets. They learned to fight for their life and learned what it meant to hold the life of another living person in the palm of their hand only to crush it within their fist. 

They adapted and they overcame and they thrived. 

They also, irritatingly, attached themself to Viago the moment they met him. 

He was older than them, not that it meant much. In the Crows, your age hardly matters — you need to be ready and able to fight and kill those both older and younger than you are. Viago was to help train the younger fledgling, which often meant beating the shit out of them until they learned to avoid getting hit. It meant force-feeding them poison and berating them, breaking them down both body and mind so they could rebuild themself from the ashes.

Viago would've expected them to hate him. To resent him for the torture he put them through, but they never did. Instead, they followed him about like a puppy at the heels of its master. They looked to him for approval, even though it was rarely given.

Unfortunately for Viago, the little shit began to grow on him over time. They never cared that he was the bastard son of the king, never treated him any differently for it. They never resented him for the punishments he doled out like candy. They simply learned under his teaching and strove to become better, to be his equal. 

“One day, I'll beat you,” they told him one day, with an easy grin on their face despite the blood leaking from their broken nose. “That's my goal.”

It's a goal not easily accomplished, as he'd told them directly. They didn't appear dissuaded in the least, but they rarely did. That was the thing about Voltah de Riva: they never knew when to quit. It both frustrated Viago and endeared him to them.  

The day Voltah became a fully fledged Crow was a day full of pride for Viago, not that he'd ever admit it aloud. His training had paid off and he privately thought they'd make a mighty fine Crow, and would make his house proud. 

Of course, they had to go and ruin it.

They ruined a larger operation against the Antaam all for the sake of a few hostages. They'd charged in like a fool and had nearly gotten themself killed in the process. Idiot. 

When they're presented to Viago for punishment, blood still pours from numerous wounds and he’s been told they have a concussion. The blood drips onto Viago's nice carpet and he can barely contain his rage.

“What were you thinking?” He demands, focusing on the blood trickling down a gash in their thigh. He refuses to meet their eyes — they don't deserve that respect.

“How was I supposed to know there was more going on?” They challenge, arms outstretched. “I saw people in danger, so I–”

“So you recklessly charged in without consulting anyone!”

“I didn't know I was supposed to!” They shoot back. “I'm a Crow, not a fledgling. And no one told me there was an operation planned, so why would I–”

“You were supposed to use your head.” Viago snarls, his heart thundering inside of his chest. “Think before you act! Did I not teach you that?”

“Viago–” 

He holds up a hand. “No. You’ve betrayed our house and embarrassed us. You need to leave.”

That stops them in their tracks. “What?”

“You need a contract that will get you out of Treviso and out of my sight.” His tone is firm, unyielding. “I don't care what the contract is, but the next suitable one that falls into my lap, you will take.”

He can feel Voltah's eyes on him, so he looks up. It's a mistake.

Because when he sees their face, he doesn't see the face of a hardened Crow, fully fledged. He sees the little boy who was so determined to survive that he let himself be beaten bloody and blue by the closest thing he had to a friend, to family. 

Voltah's eyes are full of tears that they refuse to shed, one eye swollen almost shut. They look so young, so vulnerable. Viago almost wants to eat his words.

But then their jaw sets and there's that determined expression he's so used to seeing in them. 

“Fine,” they spit out. “I'll find a fitting contract and I'll fulfill it.”

“Good.” Viago nods once. “Now clean yourself up. You're getting blood all over the place.” 

[trashjuicesmidrewrite]

Episode 8 •_• (MID Rewrite)

IN CASE YOU WEREN’T COMFY READING LAST EPISODE (skip if you’ve already read): basically Ava woke up in a black void with doors of varying shades of greys. She goes through one of them and sees a dream version of one of Pierce’s childhood memories. After this, Ava and the guys continue to explore the palace until Pierce confronts Ava about it. He reveals to her that he’s trans and would rather Ava not talk about it to anyone. She agrees and then the gang dicks around for a bit before Ava and Pierce fall asleep. Now in a dream world, Ava and Pierce go through different childhood memories of Pierce’s (that sentence feels repetitive. I’ll probably fix it later) When doing this Asch and the gang go try to find Lady Grandma but get stuck running from Mrs. Oats’ rage. We then go over to Ava and Pierce and he’s, like, gone crazy. Ava comforts him and they try to find a way out of the void. Meanwhile in reality everything is goin to shit because the gang angered a bunch of soul cats that just so happened to be the reincarnated souls of Daemons the Chikarian royal family has made love with. They fight them off and eventually get their asses kicked being swept off like a wave. Pierce saves Rhys by throwing him across the hallway and him and Lady Grandma retreat temporarily before Rhys calls her a shit grandma (I’m paraphrasing the line is a bit better in the ep I swear) and goes off to save Asch and the rest and now we here!!!

My brain feels like writing this 24/7 so if you’re at all worried about the fact these are kinda being pumped out DONT. If I ever feel myself burning out I’ll chill for like a day or three and then get back to it, it’s like a stamina bar. Also I’m running out of faces to use for these. Ik there’s like an infinite amount of them but I can be slow at times so don’t judge. I think I’m just gonna experiment or swallow my pride and head to Google or ask a friend. Also also I am ASS at naming episodes bro I was struggling so much to come up with one for this I can imagine a person looking at the title for the episode and thinking “damn…this shit might be ass and filled with spelling mistakes a fetus couldn’t make. a toddler could come up with these.” And then ignore the rewrite like give me a chance 😭 btw there’s some Japanese dialogue in this and all translations should be in the bottom! The Japanese is from my own knowledge so if any of them are wrong that’s on me. Pls enjoy!

Episode 8: Meowing Fury Furry Frenzy

Rhys ran through the hall leading towards the sea of souls. He formed his staff and stuck it down through the floor, only barely cracking its surface.

“C’mon Rhys…remember…” he begged himself while biting his finger for blood to break.

Once a bead shown, he carefully put it on top of the crystal of his staff. He felt a small amount of dread throughout his body trying to remember the words of this incantation.

He was trying to pull off a ritual. It isn’t magic only because it doesn’t take away from the main source. Only your own body. The only thing a Daemon would have to do is remember what to do and what to say. The only problem being Rhys was having a tough time with the words.

He was never interested in rituals. He liked being prepared for the worst, but that was what learning how to fight with his staff was for. He never thought a wave of soul cats would threaten to suffocate his prince and a newly found friend.

“神さまはわたしのよびかけをきく” he heard a voice recite.

He quickly turned to see it was Lady Grandma. “Go on, you have to say it. It’s your blood.” She said getting as close to Rhys as she can. If she can get into the vicinity, she won’t get affected by the ritual.

He recited what Lady Grandma said still struggling to remember the rest. The cats were getting closer which caused his brain to churn. He never liked tense situations, but for some reason he always worked best in them.

“もう一度、あなたの助けが必要です。起きている間中、そうしているように。” He said, finally remembering more of the ritual. “キジャン、どうか私に時間の力を貸してください。”

As soon as Rhys uttered the last word, the wave of cats halted suddenly, right when it was about to hit him and Lady Grandma. The souls loomed over them, keeping their expressions of hate and despair.

“How much blood did you use?” Asked Lady Grandma while breaking through the middle of the wave.

“Only a drop, that’s about an hour, right?” Said Rhys following Lady Grandma.

The purple cat was focused on creating a path before saying “You’re part Umnotho, yeah? Their blood is considered more valuable to the gods, so you gave us a good two hours to find everybody and get the hell outta here.”

They picked up their pace and started tearing through to make a path a bit more carelessly. Trying to find five people in a sea of multi-colored cats was definitely going to prove difficult. Lazing around and talking like they didn’t only have two hours to find everyone would be certain death.

“At this rate we’re not going to find anyone. Would it be too risky to split up Lady Grandma?” Rhys questioned already splitting into his own path.

“Alright, but you’ll be doing some extra work if I find someone. I ain’t cutting through bigger holes than I have to.” Lady Grandma immediately started lessening her work and dug holes that were about her size.

Just like that Rhys was left on his own, but he didn’t mind. The faster he and Lady Grandma could find everyone, the more time they have to get out.

His sight and hearing were obviously not going to be of any help, so he thought that scent would be his best bet. As weird as it was, everyone had a specific smell to them. Rhys wasn’t one to want to notice this, but Asch had taught him to take advantage of anything he could.

Speaking of Asch, he wanted to look for him first. He always smelled of grilled meat, most likely because it was his favorite type of food. Although he hasn’t had the chance to eat it much, it’s like the smell had burned on to him.

Rhys dug up to see if he would have a better chance in the surface. He also was starting to hate the tight space digging had forced him into.

The higher he went, the more he started to smell a minty scent. This had to be Leif. He was a tad disappointed, but it was still someone he cared about. He started tearing through to where the scent was stronger, getting more and more hopeful.

There was a particularly thick layer of cats blocking his path. Even when he tried to dig around it, it just happened to be the exact same issue. Rhys cut through the layer and saw Leif with some serious injuries writhing on the ground.

The cats must’ve really messed him up. A lot of his wounds were deep, and the cat hair would most certainly infect them if not treated.

Rhys quickly went to kneel beside Leif. Just as he expected, the assassin was completely frozen in time. He had to be really careful with transporting him to Ava’s living room. Once Leif leaves the room, he’ll be back to normal, but will feel a bit of whiplash.

Rhys gently picked up Leif and put him over his shoulder. He didn’t have anytime to be casually walking, so he did have a bit of pep in his step. He was sure that Leif would be fine still.

Right as he made it to the makeshift fork in the tunnels him and Lady Grandma had made, Rhys heard her call out his name.

“Rhys! I found Pierce! He’s with Ava, help me drag ‘em both!” She shouted.

“Just a minute! I found Leif, I need to take him to safety!” Rhys shouted back speedwalking away.

“Just hurry up will ya!? These cats are freakin’ me out…”

As Rhys got closer to the area he had the ritual, he could hear subtle gasps and sobs coming from Leif. He wanted to run now more than ever, but that’d put Leif in more pain.

When Rhys walked past where his staff was still stuck in the ground, Leif started screaming clearly not in his right mind. Slobber started to run down his mouth and getting on to Rhys. The advisor slightly recoiled at this until Leif said a slightly coherent sentence through his yelling.

“Dumbass! IDIOT! Run! Run me to…OW!” Slurred Leif punching Rhys in the back to get him to move.

Rhys picked up his pace running as fast as he could to the passage that led them back to Ava’s living room. He practically crashed through it and laid Leif on the table.

“Shit man…fucking grass beds are softer than this.” Said the assassin groggily.

Rhys ignored Leif’s comment and scanned his injuries. There were two scratches that looked like they’d leave scars on his legs, but the rest looked fine. He had no idea how to treat any of it, as he always had relied on someone like Noi to take care of wounds.

With a clearer head, he thought it’d be a better idea to find Noi next, assuming he wasn’t badly hurt.

Rhys rushed back into the palace and into the sea of cats. He sprinted through the already dug hole he and Lady Grandma made, and started tearing through her path.

“Lady Grandma! I’m on the way!” He announced squinting his eyes at the blood that came from the tearing.

He was met with silence and strangely enough, purring. Confusion and the slightest bit of fear swam through his psyche.

“Lady Grandma? Did you-“ Rhys was cut off by a bewildering sight.

Lady Grandma wasn’t acting like herself. She was laying in the corner of the bit of space she made for Pierce and Ava, but she was acting like an actual cat. Her proportions were more normalized, and she seemed to be fast alseep.

Rhys surveyed what happened to Pierce and Ava before checking on Lady Grandma. They seemed to be alright with only a few cuts and scratches. Pierce seemed to have been in the process of bringing Ava to the surface. This made him feel a bit stupid for using the ritual, but if he didn’t, Leif most likely would’ve been dead.

He walked over to Lady Grandma and crouched beside her. “Uhm…Lady Grandma?” He said while poking the top of her head.

The cat slowly woke up and stretched with a loud meow. It looked up at Rhys with its round boba eyes.

It wearily crawled toward him and jumped on top of his head. Rhys cringed and wriggled around to try to get the cat off.

“L-Lady Grandma! Would you snap out of this?” He pleaded, but to no avail. Rhys was already losing his patience, and the fact that he was on a time limit didn’t make it any better.

Rhys sighed, swatted the cat away, and went to put Ava over his shoulder. He cursed to himself when he realized he had to drag Pierce all the way to the living room. There was no way he could do it by himself.

He started to dearly miss using magic, but he couldn’t betray the mission. He laid Ava back down on the ground and focused on his attention and strength on dragging Pierce.

He grabbed the larger Daemon by the feet and pulled with all his might. Sounds of frustration and struggle escaped him, but he paid no mind to how humiliating they may have been.

Right up until a pair of nimble hands grabbed his shoulders. The smell of blood invaded his nose, yet he could still catch an undertone of…mint.

“Leif! Why in the gods’ name are you here!? Do you know how dangerous it is to continue walking around like you don’t have the injuries you do?! How did you even-“

“Can you shut the hell up and let me help you?!” Yelled Leif, cutting off Rhys.

The taller reluctantly stopped chastising Leif and let him continue to pull. Eventually they started to make some progress, dragging Pierce very slowly throughout the cat tunnel.

When they were around the artificial entrance, Leif piped up. “Y’know, hearing you struggle like that was kinda funny.”

“You’re smaller than me! Don’t even act like you wouldn’t make more pathetic sounds.” Rhys grumbled.

They both continued to pull until Rhys thought of something. He interrupted them both by intentionally clearing his throat.

“How did you even get in here? The ritual shouldn’t allow anyone but Lady Grandma and I to use Kijan’s help.” Said Rhys, not pulling anymore to make Leif no to.

“Oh that was a ritual? My foot got stuck in it, so I panicked and kicked the staff over with my other.” Said Leif while smiling.

Rhys stayed silent for a long moment making the space between him and Leif awkward. The green Daemon opened his mouth to say something until Rhys smacked him upside the head.

“Ow! The hell was that for?!” He said sounded hurt.

“Were you dropped on the head when you were a child?! The time this ritual works gets cut in half when you cancel it!” Rhys smacked Leif again.

“Dammit! Would you stop hitting me?! How much time we got left!?” Yelled Leif trying to hit Rhys back.

“I’d say about 50 minutes. It’s not nearly enough time given how Lady Grandma looks virtually useless at the moment…if we sprint we might be able to make it.” Said Rhys while grabbing Pierce’s legs again.

Leif grabbed Rhys’ shoulder with a lot more force than earlier. One side of him told him it was to get a better grip, but the other side knew it was to get Rhys back for hitting him.

The pair made a lot more progress with the added stress of less time. When they made it to the stairs, they continued to drag Pierce down while they both said a quick sorry each time Pierce’s head banged against the steps.

When they went through the passage, Rhys and Leif both sighed heavily in relief.

“Gods that took forever…can we just leave him in here?” Wheezed Leif grabbing his lower back.

Rhys heaved before standing straight up. “Definitely. Let’s hurry, we need to find the others and get Ava out of there.”

Leif nodded and both him and Rhys ran back into the secret palace. Sprinting towards the wave of cats, the two Daemons noticed the slight movement of it.

“Oh shit. I fucked up so bad…” mumbled Leif while holding his head.

“There’s no point in sulking. We need to hurry, we should still have time.” Pointed out Rhys

They trudged on through the tunnel that was made eerie because of the cats slow descent towards them.

Leif got ahead of Rhys to get back to where they found Ava. Now that the souls were moving, it was harder to dig through and make a set path. Rhys eventually lost sight of Leif.

He wanted to call out to the assassin, but he didn’t know what would happen if he disturbed the wave with sound. At this point, he couldn’t even smell anything but cat hair. His sense of smell was never that good, but it feels even worse here.

Rhys could feel his throat closing up, but chalked it up to his panic settling in. Despite this, he felt okay. He wasn’t shaken up at all, so the sudden reaction was odd.

Unless he was allergic to cats. This would be bad, and morbidly funny, so he quickly threw away that thought for his own sanity.

As the cats started to close in, Rhys could feel his eyes starting to water. He wanted to call out to Leif, but the pain in his throat started to become unbearable.

The sensation of all the cats weighing him down, and the fur prickling at his skin, coupled with his supposed allergy made him want to turn himself off and try again later.

Obviously, he couldn’t just give up because his mind and body wanted him to. He had to power through it, as he’s done many times before.

Rhys pushed through the descending felines and dug up. If he could get to the surface, his newfound allergy could get less intense.

He couldn’t tell if it was his watering eyes or his lost sense of smell, but he started to lose his sense of direction. This was the worst situation he could be in, but he couldn’t just let the cats slowly devour him. He continued to dig the direction he was going and eventually made it to the top.

The way the soul cats moved was a lot like gentle waves in an ocean. Of course some of them tried to scratch at Rhys, but they were slow enough he could just push them away.

The dark purple Daemon was very disoriented. He started to blame Leif for this, but for whatever reason he couldn’t bring himself to.

The only good thing to his overstimulation was that he could sense every little thing around him. It made him even more distressed, but that was a sacrifice he was willing to make to be able to sense those around him more easily.

Rhys could feel the flow of the cats shift behind him.

“Leif? Is dat you…?” He said through sniffling “sorry I’m speaking improperly…I think I may be allergic to deez things.”

The flow change of the cats transferred to the front of him. Through Rhys’ blurred vision, he could see a pair of orange horns in front of him.

The horns rose up revealing it to be Noi. At least Rhys assumed it was him, he couldn’t really be sure.

“Rhys! Gosh, am I glad to see you! Have you seen Pierce anywhere?” Said Noi practically glowing.

“Guh…we d’already got him back to Ava’s ‘oom…” slurred Rhys.

“…You dal-eady god him bach to Ava’s ooze..?” Said Noi trying his best to understand Rhys.

Rhys shook his head and grabbed Noi’s face to put it closer to his. “I’m ‘orry Noi…” he sniffed “This algae is really bad. I’m seeing worst now…what’d you say?”

Noi started to tear up. “I have no idea what you’re saying!”

The two went back and forth trying to understand each other. Rhys’ ears felt as if they were getting more clogged, making it hard to hear Noi.

This would’ve went on until there was no time left if Rhys’ throat didn’t close up enough for the pain to be too much. He coughed and hacked, making his throat feel worse.

Even through his panicked tears, Noi could tell something was wrong. “H-Hey! Rhys? Are you okay?” He fretted.

The taller Daemon started sinking turning Noi into a frightened mess. He tried lifting him up, but was actively struggling.

“Ugh…Rhys, gimme a little help here.” Noi heaved. “I know your whole body is shutting down, but can you at least kick your legs”

Rhys didn’t respond, but he did start to take the brunt effort, carrying Noi on his back and kicking.

“Alright! You’re the mount and I’m the rider!” Announced Noi while grabbing Rhys’ hair.

The ginger pulled at the advisor’s hair to steer him in the right direction. It was literal hell for Rhys, yet every other sense he had was completely useless. The burning feeling on his scalp was the only proof that he wasn’t going through some type of sick dream.

Asch looked up at his impending doom. His head felt as if his brain was scratching away at his skull, begging to be let out and spread all over the floor.

Despite him accepting his death, it hadn’t come. He sat up and looked closer at the cats seeing that they were moving very slowly. He couldn’t figure out why this was, and his head still hurt like hell.

he laid back down in hopes the pain would lighten. Asch desperately wanted to close his eyes and sleep the pain away, but he had no idea if the cats would return to their regular speed and maul him.

Now that he was laying down though, he couldn’t bring himself to sit back up.

“C’mon Asch…this is embarrassing. Even a child could strike you down…” whispered a voice.

Asch shot straight back up feeling tension all over his body. He looked all around, but there was nothing near him the voice could’ve came from.

“What? Scared of a little sparing? Do you even want to be king?” Said another voice.

Asch’s body was in a cold sweat, and his head was reeling. Those voices were a lot like his father and Hitoma. He knew they weren’t here, or were they? His brain was beyond messed up.

“Asch! Strike me! Strike me now and prove yourself to me!” Shouted the booming voice.

The prince started to breathe heavily, and pushed away some of the cats in a panic. He looked around for the source of the voices, but there was none.

Asch figured it was his headache making him hallucinate. He didn’t remember taking such a devastating blow from the cats, but when he felt the top of his head, his hand was stained with blood.

He could hear scurrying coming from the right of him. His vision was blurry, but he could see a purple blob.

“Rhys? That you? My gods I’m glad to see you…” said Asch reaching out towards the shape.

The figure sighed, “I ain’t ya lil boy toy…we’re not even the same shade of purple! You colorblind?”

Asch was hit with a wave of shock before squinting his eyes to see who the figure really was. It was Lady Grandma, and a spate of embarrassment hit him

“B-Boy toy?!” He grabbed his head from the pain of yelling before saying, “what happened? Why is everything so slow?”

“Rhys did a ritual to slow time, but it seems someone might’ve interfered with it.” Lady Grandma went to paw at Asch’s arm. “We need to get outta here quick. He said how much time we had left, but uh…didn’t really comprehend.”

Asch rolled over on his stomach and followed Lady Grandma into the hole she dug. The old woman sliced bigger tunnels so Asch could have more space to crawl.

They both went at a steady pace to make sure they didn’t bump into each other. Lady Grandma constantly looked behind to make sure Asch was still behind her or dropped dead.

She felt a tinge of sadness at the fact she couldn’t remember much about him. He’s her grandson for crying out loud, she should at least remember the day he was born. She just couldn’t though.

She couldn’t remember his first day in the academy, his first spar, his first banquet, none of it. Bits and pieces, sure, but none of them was something that could tell her she was proud of Asch.

Lady Grandma also wanted to know why she just blanked out when tending to Ava and Pierce. The general looked a lot like someone she used to know, but couldn’t remember who.

She shook her head to rid of these thoughts and continued to dig. She could unpack this another time. Right now, she needed to get Asch out of here.

She picked up her speed and started mowing down the slow cats. Asch did his best to keep up. With his injuries, he was severely slowed down.

“Ma! Slow down a bit…” panted Asch, now going slower than when he started trying to catch up.

Lady Grandma seemed to have ignored Asch’s pleas, focusing on making a path.

Eventually Asch gave up because of the immense pain that took over his body. His breathing slowed, and his vision became hazy.

He blinked away tears as his body began to shut itself down. He couldn’t fight off these cats in his state.

“I should’ve known you weren’t ready. It’s not like you ever are.” Said a voice that sounded a lot like his father.

Asch could feel the cats slowly closing in on him. He tried to move, but his body didn’t seem to have the energy. Even though it’d make his head scream, he had to call out to someone.

“Hey! Ma! Wait for me, I can’t keep up!” He shouted while feeling a sharp pain in his head.

He waited while using up his little energy to move away cats that were a little too close to him. The prince was going to call out again until he felt a pair of hands grab both of his horns.

His body kickstarted itself in every place that he didn’t need at the moment. Whoever grabbed his horns was fiddling around, seemingly trying to get a better grip. This didn’t make the situation any better for Asch, as he squirmed around to remind his body this wasn’t the time.

The hands finally got a good grip and pulled. The tension and heat from his horns made Asch’s head want to tear itself apart.

After a while in the crowd of cats, the hands finally got Asch to the other side. The prince blinked and squinted his eyes to get a glimpse of who had the smart idea to pull him by such a sensitive place out of every other body part.

When his eyes settled, he noticed a distinct lack of horns on the figure. It was Ava, which in hindsight, should’ve been the first person he suspected.

“Queen Ava…what the hell?” He said lethargically not having the energy to be mad.

Ava looked scared out of her mind looking at Asch. “Oh damn! Was that from me pulling your horns? Oh my god, I fucked up I’m really sorry!” She panicked.

Asch flinched at Ava’s yelling. “If you’re talking about the head thing, that was from the cats. If you’re talking about everything else, Daemon horns are pretty sensitive…I’d be mad as hell if I wasn’t about to pass out.”

“…and that doesn’t mean I touched the equivalent to a penis, yeah?” She wished.

“What do you think?!” Shouted Asch, who immediately recoiled in pain from raising his voice.

Ava groaned in disgust while rubbing her hands on Asch’s chest. The prince couldn’t be more confused, but let it happen because he honestly didn’t care.

“Ugh…do you know what’s happening? I remember Pierce telling me, but I didn’t comprehend a thing.” Said Ava, scratching the back of her head.

“You people can’t remember…anything…” mumbled Asch, seemingly falling asleep.

Ava started shaking and hitting Asch. “Woah! Don’t go to sleep dude! I have no idea if you’ll wake up with a head scar like that.” She stammered.

Asch groaned in pain and looked away from Ava. He looked as if he was struggling to stay awake, but Ava thought that was better than him dying.

Ava grabbed Asch by his underarms and started slowly dragging him, making sure to keep his head elevated. She needed to find one of the guys to help her, or maybe that cat thing they keep calling Lady Grandma.

Moving away some cats in her way, Ava could hear a muffled voice. She hoped it wasn’t another one of the guys, if it was, she’d just have to pick her favorite and leave with them.

She moved towards the voice while making sure that none of the cats swiped at Asch. She came across a dense layer of cats. There wasn’t even a pocket of space or anything, just cats.

The voice was strongest in this area, so she kept digging in hopes she’d find the source of it. She started to hear a grunting noise followed by the cats shaking a ton. Whoever this is was trying to break down the wall of cats with a lot of force.

They were trying to break down the wall of cats.

With Ava behind it.

She scrambled to get on the other side of Asch and pull him by the legs, disregarding how his head might scratch the floor.

“What the hell are you doing?” Asch asked tiredly, still choosing to not look at Ava.

“Saving your head from getting crushed!” She growled while getting increasingly more anxious about the person knocking down the cats.

With a yell, Leif burst through the cats, inches away from squashing Asch’s head. He looked straight at Ava with surprise.

“Leif? Hey do-“ Ava started, but Leif cut her off by grabbing her and speeding through the cats. Ava quickly grabbed Asch by the legs and dragged him along.

Asch’s head dragged across the floor. “AH FUCK!” He yelled, “SLOW…down…” he trailed off as his body finally passed out.

Ava shouted at Leif to slow down so she could check on Asch, but he kept his grip on her.

She knew it wasn’t the time for this, but she couldn’t help but feel butterflies in her stomach with how careful Leif was when grabbing her. She needed to get her mind off this quick.

She tightened her grip on Asch’s legs so she wouldn’t let go. Gradually, she got her hands to grip on higher parts of the prince’s body while Leif was still running with her. She got to the point where Asch’s body was sideways as she held on to dear life to his head, keeping it elevated.

Ava was sure his head would pop right off if she kept this up, but this was the only way he wouldn’t get any more injuries there.

Leif made a quick stop and let go of Ava. He then started to slam into a wall of cats repeatedly with his body.

Ava took this opportunity to check up on Asch, and she had to admit, he looked very much dead. Her heart dropped down to her stomach until she put her head to his chest. She could hear his heart beating which immediately made her let go of a breath she didn’t know she was holding.

“Queen Ava? What’re you doing?” Questioned Leif. Ava swiftly sat back up and tried to do a nonchalant pose that in fact made her look more conniving than what she intended.

“I was…checking his heart beat! He looked kinda dead and I panicked and-“

“And so…to fix that you…smell him?”

Ava didn’t think she could be more panicked on the inside than what she already was. This was worse than accidentally convincing a bunch of alien(?) guys to marry her because she’s the queen of earth. Leif was gonna think she’s weird.

Without a doubt, the worst feeling in existence. Someone you think is attractive calls you a weirdo? You’re gone. Finished. There’s no coming back from it.

“Wh-What?! No! No. I was scared and I was holding my breath! I swear I’m not weird!” Stuttered Ava while flailing her arms.

“I wasn’t gonna say you’re weird, it’s just a crazy way to check a pulse. Literally just take your fingers and put them on his neck.” Leif explained, making Ava feel kinda dumb.

Leif sighed, “Could you just help me break this down?” He asked while continuing to slam into the wall.

Ava was more embarrassed than she had ever been in her life, and she had no idea how to help. She swatted away a few cats that were slowly, but surely, swiping at him. That was all she thought she could do though, as she didn’t really think she’d make a difference in busting through to cats.

Leif suddenly stopped trying to break the wall and looked at Ava like she provoked him. “What? I can’t do anything to break this down.” Said Ava.

“But you could…I don’t know…dig around? See if it’s just another pocket? Be helpful?” Huffed Leif.

Ava scoffed, but still did as she was told. “Asshole…” she muttered.

“Oh, that’s it!” Shouted Leif as he pounced on Ava.

The ravenette quickly kicked the Daemon in spots she knew would stun him. Specifically between his legs.

Leif yelled in pain, and got off of Ava. She quickly turned the tables by kicking him in his chest. Leif got knocked back, but as Ava was about to kick him again, he gave her a taste of her own medicine by kicking her in the crotch.

“Gah! Fuck! My lil’ boat man…oh no…” she keeled over flat on her back.

Leif took a few breaths. “Damn, you fight dirty. I haven’t had to stoop to that level in a while.” He said while getting closer to Ava.

“Y’know…a queen like you deserves someone who can match your en-“ Ava bit Leif’s hand before he could finish his sentence.

The assassin yelped, but went to throw Ava over his shoulder. She got all the wind knocked out of her, looking up at Leif as he attempted to pin her down. She wasn’t gonna go down so easily though.

She right hooked Leif and spun around to kick him in his neck. He got knocked back, but seemed to have tanked those hits. He held his neck while attempting to pounce Ava.

She haphazardly dodged, seemingly becoming a bit agitated. “Dude this is gettin’ annoying!” She exasperated, attempting to kick at Leif.

“Heh, you keep fighting though. Clearly you don’t wanna lose.” Jeered Leif while grabbing Ava’s leg and pulling her towards him.

Ava tried to punch Leif, but he grabbed both of her hands and pinned them down above her head. “Damn it! I could’ve won that…” she grumbled.

Looking up at Leif, Ava noticed something different in his eyes. She couldn’t quite pin it down though.

“Where’d you learn to fight like that?” He asked, his voice in a way softer tone Ava had ever heard him speak.

Ava stuttered a bit before answering Leif. “I- uhm…I used to be in a MMA team back in high school, but…I got kicked off after I did some stuff that was like out of the rule book n’ stuff…” she blushed hard out of embarrassment.

Leif cocked his head to the side. “I…uh…was never good at the grappling part…I always forget to.” Stammered Ava, refusing to look at the Daemon.

Leif laughed to himself. “I’ve got no idea what that is, but I’ve never had a play fight in a while.” He said. “…and I’ve never had a play fight with such a fine woman like you.”

Ava finally set her eyes on Leif, seeing eyes filled with admiration. The assassin made his face impossibly close to the ravenette’s. His minty scent overpowering all of her senses.

“Could I steal a kiss from you, Queen Ava?” He said simply, yet there was a low growl in his voice that made Ava’s heart leap.

“Y-Yeah..! My lips are chapped though so uhm…” Ava trailed off as Leif let go of his grip on her wrists and moved his hand to move her hair out of her face.

“I don’t really care about that.” He hummed as he got closer.

Ava could feel Leif’s breath over her lips. She shuddered as he got ever so closer.

“GERONIMO!” Yelled a voice that sounded a lot like a certain short Daemon, followed by a crash and the slow rise of sound coming from the cats.

Both Ava and Leif looked to see who it was, and it was none other than Noi and Rhys. The ginger was on top of the advisor looking a bit dazed. Rhys on the other hand looked completely knocked out, his face flat on the floor.

“That kinda hurt…” said Noi before shaking his head. “Queen Ava! Leif! I’m so glad to-…what are you guys doing..?”

Ava immediately pushed Leif off of her and sat up. “Nothin’! Just normal stuff.” She said, actually sounding believable for a change.

Noi clearly knew something was up, but he didn’t pry. “Sure…oh! We need to find Asch and Lady Grandma! Have you seen them?” He asked, trying to change the topic

Leif cleared his throat. “I’m pretty sure Rhys is on top of him.” He said.

Noi looked down in shock to see Asch’s arms flailing around under Rhys as if he was a squashed bug. He quickly got off of Rhys and pulled him from Asch.

Asch took a deep breath while continuing to flail like he’s still being crushed. “Holy shit! I’m up! What’d I miss?! Are we out?! Is Ma okay? Am I okay?…” he went on, but the rest of the group started to tune him out once they realized he was just rambling.

“Noi, how much time we got left.” Said Leif, his tone more serious.

“Rhys was gonna tell me, but he’s allergic to cats and I couldn’t hear him because he was mumbling! So before I comprehended he said something of substance I kinda already crashed in here…” Noi answered while wringing his hands.

Asch started groaning with his hands on his head when Leif was about to respond. He started babbling about something but no one could understand him.

“None of you’s listens! None of ya! Just like him! I hate you all…I hate him so much!” Asch started crying uncontrollably as the group awkwardly tried to calm him down.

Noi started to have tears well up in his eyes. “Three of our smartest people are either not here or dumb now! We’re gonna die!” He joined Asch in the crazy wailing.

The crying coupled with the piercing screeches the cats started to emit got unbearable. Ava was starting to have enough.

“Could you all SHUT UP!?” She screamed. Noi stopped his tears and covered Asch’s mouth to stop his.

“We don’t know where that Lady Catma or whatever person is, and we don’t know how much time we have left.” She started to dig through some cats above her. “I remember Asch yelling something about her when I found him, so she left him. I say we get the hell out of here and pray she makes it out.”

Everyone that was conscious and sane seemed to agree with her, they started to dig up with Ava. Leif grabbed Asch, and Noi grabbed Rhys.

“Where’s Ma? I don’t know where she is…she’s okay?” Jabbered Asch while he was being carried by Leif.

The blanchette ignored him, focusing on digging up and being able to carry the prince. He silently cussed himself out for choosing to get the talkative one. Then again, Rhys would’ve been a huge hassle to carry since he was only a few inches shorter than Pierce.

Asch said something else, but Leif chose to tune him out. He was doing a good job of this right up until Asch punched him in the mouth.

Leif was inches away from completely dropping the prince. “What the hell dude?!” He fumed while grabbing Asch’s hand.

“You’re ignorin’ me! I’m your prince! You should respect me you troglodyte!” He whined.

“The fuck is a troglodyte?!” Yelled Leif, trying to get in a good position to carry Asch and climb up.

Asch kept rambling as Leif continued to tunnel up. He could hear Ava and Noi shouting his name, so he needed to get to the surface quick.

He started to call out to them so they could pull him up. His prayers were answered as Noi grabbed his hand and pulled him out.

“The cats are getting kinda unstable.” Said Noi while struggling to keep his balance. “I don’t think we’ve got much time.”

Leif nodded in response and transferred Asch’s body to over his shoulder. “W-Wait!” Shrieked Noi, startling the assassin.

“Rhys is kinda heavy, and I’ve already been carrying him for a long time so…” Noi pointed at the unconscious advisor to signal to Leif he needed help.

The taller Daemon groaned in annoyance, but still went to help. He grabbed Rhys by the feet as Noi grabbed him by the under arms. Slowly carrying him to the end of the wave.

They were speed walking, but with how the cats started to move faster and faster, they were severely slowed down.

“Hey! You guys are almost there! Are any of you strong enough to throw Asch over here?” Shouted Ava only a bit farther away from them.

“Oh yeah! Lemme just summon the strength of our dear general Pierce!” Said Leif sarcastically.

“That’s a good idea Leif! How would we do that though?” Piped up Noi.

Leif glanced at Noi disappointedly before turning his attention back to Ava. “These cats are getting fast too! It’s hard enough to balance, let alone get a good enough stance to throw someone!” He shouted

Ava looked a bit conflicted. At this rate, there was no way they’d make it in time. The panic was starting to kick in, and she started breathing heavier.

“Can’t you like, wake Rhys up?!” She worried.

“Like I said, he’s allergic to cats! He’ll just wake up delirious!” Hurriedly noted Noi.

Ava started to panic even more. She could leave them, but she cared about them now. It was terrible, risking her own life just to make sure these guys were safe.

She started to feel something pawing at her feet. Instinctively, Ava started kicking at it, but the paw showed its claws and scratched at her.

The ravenette made a yelping noise as the paw emerged to reveal Lady Grandma. “Before I do what I’m gonna do, tell them it was earth magic okay?”

Ava nodded and watched as the cat turned towards the Daemons and held out her hands. She mimicked her and pretended like she was doing the spell.

The purple fuzz ball clenched her paws and a magical aura started to revolve around herself, Ava, and the four Daemons. She swiftly flung her arms to the end of the hallway, and everyone was thrown.

All of them tumbled on top of each other with grunts. Behind them, they could hear the souls regaining their speed.

“What in the gods’ names are y’all doing?!” Chastised Lady Grandma. “Run like your lives depend on it! ‘Cause they do!”

Lady Grandma sped away, and the rest of the group followed suit. Asch was still out of his mind, but Leif guided him through the commotion. Noi was grabbing Rhys by his foot, and was dragging him painfully across the floor.

The wave of cats finally regained its speed, trailing behind the six. They turned the corner, and the wave almost zoomed into the other hallway. Some of the cats turned quick enough to chase the group.

“What’re we gonna do when we get to the entrance?!” Yelled Leif. “They’re obviously just gonna crash through it!”

“They can’t get on earth! I’ll explain it later, for now just run!” Shouted Lady Grandma, speeding up just a bit to get to the passage.

When Lady Grandma finally went through, Ava and the Daemons practically crashed into the room. They heard a huge thump, and then muffled cries that eventually got farther away.

“MY ROOM! I’ve never been so glad to see it!” Sang Ava while kissing the floor.

Ava was actually very energetic, which signaled to the conscious Daemons she was going down in three, two, one.

“Yup! I’m passing out!” She declared as she fell flat on her face.

Leif picked her up bridal style and laid her on her bed before turning to Noi. “So…what’re we gonna do about Asch?” He asked.

The ginger looked over to the prince. Asch seemed to have been poking Rhys with Ava’s lamp.

“He’s reeeeaaaallll sleepy, Hehehe” he mumbled while messing with Rhys’ face with the lamp shade.

Noi went to kneel beside Asch. He studied his face and some of his scars looking specifically at the one in the back of his head.

“I think it’s a mix of head trauma, blood loss, not enough oxygen, and spending too much energy.” He deduced.

Noi smiled a bit, “Luckily, he didn’t lose enough to need a transfusion. Water and rest should do him good, and also wrapping up his scars.” He explained.

Leif looked at Noi a certain way, but the ginger couldn’t really discern what he was thinking. “Hm…well Pierce is in the other room most likely passed out, so if you-“ Leif couldn’t even finish his sentence before Noi dashed towards the living room.

A rather high pitched “oh no!” could be heard before some shuffling. The assassin got curious and looked into the room.

He saw Noi trying to shove Pierce onto the couch while holding an ice pack. The general was doing a good job of pushing off the medic, but he was persistent.

“C’mon Pierce, Lay down! A head bump like that could be something serious! The last thing you need to do is look at something bright!” Lectured Noi, temporarily succeeding at pinning the taller down.

Pierce pushed the ginger away. “I’m not a child Noi, I’m fine with just sitting around!” He said sternly.

Leif took a look at Pierce’s supposed head injury. He had to admit, it was the biggest head bump he’s ever seen. He felt kinda bad, but not enough to out right say it was his fault. If he asks he’ll say he fell down the stairs, there’s no way he’ll remember.

Pierce surrendered, not really having the energy to fight back anymore. Noi handed him the ice pack and told him to hold it to the knot. He then got some blankets from Ava’s closet and laid them on top of Pierce.

“Please make sure to not look at the human entertainment thing,” cautioned Noi. “I’d turn it off, but I don’t know how to.”

Leif didn’t know what it was with small, frail looking people being kinda strong. He started to feel a disgusting warm feeling in his chest. He chalked it up to his body finally starting to feel tired.

Noi looked over at Leif with slight stress in his eyes, making the assassin’s chest tighter. “You okay Leif? You look kinda dazed.” He worried.

“U-Uhm mhm, I’m good man. Just tired…I uh, should be good enough to help you with Asch.” Leif stammered.

Noi beamed while clasping his hands together. “That’s great! You had me panicking for a second there! Honestly wouldn’t know what to do if you needed to be taken care of too…” he scratched the back of his head.

Leif coughed away a potential voice crack. “Yeah man…let’s just get it over with.”

Asch opened his eyes to complete darkness. It was almost eerie, but he could hear the snores of multiple people.

He sat up and squinted his eyes to get them used to the darkness. His head felt like it had a heartbeat, and he realized that one of his eyes were covered.

He figured that Noi must’ve taken care of his wounds from the fight. Everything still ached though, it was honestly more annoying than anything.

He looked to his right to see Rhys and Lady Grandma next to him. The old cat-woman was relaxing on top of a knocked out advisor, with her hands behind her head and legs crossed.

She opened her eyes and waved at him. “Nice to see ya alive.” She said while chuckling to herself.

Asch felt a tinge of anger and grabbed her by the scruff. Lady Grandma struggled and cursed at him, as he quietly took them both to the bathroom.

The cat finally freed herself from Asch’s grasp and climbed onto the counter. “What was that for?! Picking cats up like that hurts them y’know!”

Asch shushed Lady Grandma, being silent for only a few moments. “…Why did you leave me back there?” He whispered, his voice cracked slightly.

The feline was silent for a bit before sitting criss-cross. She took a deep breath, and decided not to look at Asch at all.

“I was just trying to save ya kid. It’s not like you called out to me anyways. I-“

“I did call out to you.” He interrupted. “And never in your life have you ever called me kid. What do you usually call me?”

Lady Grandma could tell Asch was furious, and messing up this question would make him livid. She had to think what suit him best. She didn’t remember being good at nicknames anyways.

“Uh…キッド…?” She guessed.

Asch looked as if he was gonna bite her head off. He kept starting and stopping his sentences before accidentally letting out a sob.

He held his head in his hands. “Your little 溶水…you used to call me that…I know I hated that nickname when we were back home, but I’d literally do anything for you to call me that again and mean it.”

Asch looked at Lady Grandma with tears in his eyes. He waited for her to say something, but was met with disappointment when she didn’t say a thing.

He started to walk out of the bathroom until Lady Grandma ran to paw at the back of his leg.

He clenched his fists. “If you can’t remember anything, then don’t even bother talking to me. I just…I just can’t bear it.” Said Asch, refusing to look at the cat.

“Listen Asch, I may not be able to remember much, but I want to. You’re making it way harder than it has to be.” Scolded Lady Grandma.

Asch turned, intentionally almost kicking away the purple feline. “Clearly you forgot what this fucking tells me!” He yelled. He quickly covered his mouth and put his ear to the door.

Once he hadn’t heard anything, he looked back over to Lady Grandma. She was shocked Asch would even think to curse in front of her. She was going to give him hell about it to change the topic, but Asch stopped her.

“…It tells me every single moment you were with me was hell. That whenever I cried in your arms you were begging for it to be over…when we spent time together when I was little you despised every single second of it. You hate me, so I hate you.”

Asch walked out of the bathroom, leaving Lady Grandma alone with her thoughts. Her head hurt like crazy, and she squirmed around to make it stop.

She started blanking out because of the pain. It couldn’t be healthy for this to happen two times in one day. If only she hadn’t started caring, she’d never be in this mess.

She wouldn’t be stuck having to relive everything she didn’t have to. She wouldn’t be stuck having to look at someone who looked exactly like her husband.

That damn general. because of him, she had to use magic. If she hadn’t been cat-ified then, she would’ve had time to help save everyone. None of this was her fault. None of it.

Eventually, her body started to succumb to its instincts, reverting her back to a thoughtless kitten. Another memory regained, and more damage dealt.

OKIE DOKIE. Before I say anything else I just wanna give a quick translation for all the Japanese. If any of it is wrong that’s completely my bad since I used my own knowledge in Japanese 😭

神さまはわたしのよびかけをきく(Kamisami wa watashi no yobikake o kiku) should translate to gods hear my call (I’m not very confident with this truly. If any of these are wrong it’s most likely this.)

もう一度、あなたの助けが必要です。起きている間中、そうしているように (Mōichido, anata no tasuke ga hitsuyōdesu. Okite iru manaka, sōshite iru yō ni) should translate to Once again, I require your help. As I do in every waking moment.

キジャン、どうか私に時間の力を貸してください (Kijan, dō ka watashi ni jikan no chikara o kashite kudasai.) should translate to Kijan, please lend me your power of time to continue to serve you. (Kijan is the name of the time god btw. What’s that? This isn’t that great of world building and it feels like I’m just cramming it in? That’s okay bc that line of text right there is what I imagine you’re saying bc I usually think my world building is ass)

キッド (kiddo) should translate to kid

溶水 (Yōmizu) is actually just half of lava and all of water. So its literal translation is Lavawater or if you wanna be funny Lawater. Funny story, it was originally going to be obsidian, but straight up it wouldn’t have worked because having a nickname that long would be a lil dumb, (it’s 黒曜石 or Kokuyōseki btw) so I went with this. 溶水 fits better anyways since literally that’s how a lot of nicknames are made, which is combining two things that can describe a person in a cute way, so it worked out. I know that’s not how MOST nicknames are but that’s how it is for me personally

AGAIN if any of the Japanese is wrong that’s completely on me since I was the one who wrote it. I’m still learning the language, so if you’re at all knowledgeable on it I’d appreciate any criticism!

[indigos-stardust]

I'm super curious about the fruit bat vampire WIP.

Sorry I took like bajillion years- I was going chronological order, and then some stuff happened irl :') and I might've made an artworks for it

HOWEVER, you chose a very nice (and extremely self indulgent) WIP even though its.. underdeveloped to say the least

Basically there was a dangerous witch/poe causing shenanigans and the colors were sent out to deal with it. The Poe or whatever definitely was setting up curses, although they don't know what the curses were intended to be.

During their battle with him, he ended up shooting Vio, even though Vio swung it back with the four swords (I mean it is a light magic sword). After the battle though, Vio just... didn't seem cursed at all. He was fine, so they all assumed that the curse didn't hit Vio at all.

But then the side effects started. Around the same time there were investigations on what the poe had actually been up to. Which was starting to look like some sort of evil transformation ritual. (the poe was probably trying to convert life force to magic, but they don't know that.)

Meanwhile, Vios become "ill" and he's sent to the castle infirmary, unable to eat foods (not even bread??), constant headaches from sounds and smells, looking pale, has a horrendous sleeping schedule, and- tiny claws and teeth. Confusion and... loss of speech? They realize this isn't a normal illness. There's a tainted magic in his blood. Slowly, yet surely infecting and warping him.

He's starving.

They put some dots together and well- Yeah he's like just becoming a straight up vampire isn't he?

And then let's just say within the next 24 hours not only has vio hissed and scratched a guard in the face, but he's also escaped and become. :) let us just say it like it is, "freaky as hell"

Unfortunately I do not have a more detailed artworks of that, the best I have is this:

but I feel like it gives the vibes off appropriately.

hes just acting feral, hiding in the rafters n etc 💀 Yeah its kinda hard to hide the fact that your brother is cursed as hell and might want to eat people when he's just climbing the walls and acting feral.

its ok that he's a lil ugly, he's still cute, like bats are yk?

they tried to "reason" with him and get him to follow them so they could try to undo the magic but the conversation went something like:

"heyyyy viooooooooo"

"..."

"wooowwww you.. made a freaky nest up there! thats- thats cool- um, but I'm SURE YOUD LOVE SOME BLANKETS AND SMALL ANIMALS (and not people) TO EAT RIGHT??"

"..."

*waves blood packet of animal blood from the kitchen*

"psst psst psst"

vio: *screeching and scampering, tries to 'lunge' on them but then falls down a flight of stairs and disappears*

"well. that didn't go to plan . - . o- o y-y"

XD, anyways some knights up finding THE FERAL VAMPIRE??? and they're like we're gonna kill it!!! and then the colors have to explain that they cant because THATS VIO

and well, to say they get some... divided responses... he might jump red at one point but well...

the truth of everything is that the poe was cursing people into animals, as a way to feast off of their misery. He was trying to turn vio into a bat (the bat being a fruit bat btw) but it only really hit him half way. So now he's taken on physical and mental traits of a bat without a full transformation.

theres a point where he jumps red who, earlier in the day, had spilled juice on himself (lil guy COULD NOT reach the highest shelf and it spilled on his head lol, he was in the kitchen stress baking because they forced him to rest)

They do eventually manage to figure it out (or Zelda does, she realizes that his behaviours are just like Jeremy's... If your'e confused, everyone else was too, she had to explain that when she was trapped under Vaati and Ganon and just fighting for her sanity because of the dark magic n etc, she became friends with a bat that lived there... and named him Jeremy. She is so sane and not effected by her time there, she was totally not shown horribly images of her kingdom falling and being manipulated and etc....)

Anyways there's also a thin where he experienced torpor (mini hibernation) once things chill the hell down lol, but the colors think he dead 0-0, this has spent too long in my drafts so I'm just gonna post it sorry for being 7 decades late