#its not a personal attack but the ones ive Seen are such. potent creatures.

[plumsilk]

frew up a lot last nite after kind of a meh gathering where i drank too much but then my roommates brought me gatorade and congee this morning so i am chill and everythings right w the world. peace and love on planet earth

[delimeful]

watch it burn and rust (1)

inspired by the deathworlder human posts ive seen floating around my dash lately :)

warnings: fear, person being treated like livestock, alien smugglers being assholes, injury, drug mention

Chapter 1

Patton woke up to his feet being dragged over slick metal flooring, and the pain along what seemed like every inch of him. On either side of him, footsteps and hands pulling him along.

He moaned, and someone’s grip on his arm tightened, a voice demanding he shut up in a sharp bark of Common. It wasn’t much of a threat. He doubted they could do much else to scare him at this point, not after- 

The thought stung even as he cut it off sharply, trying to hold back a sob. 

He’d forced himself into optimism day after day while stuck on the smugglers’ ship, hidden somewhere in the backwater corners of some mostly-barren nebula, but this was it. This was the point where he couldn’t fool himself anymore. 

They’d stripped him of his coat, the gossamer feathers that lined his limbs and back torn away. It was the only reason they’d taken him in the first place; Ampens were common enough that they didn’t sell well and so smugglers didn’t often target them. It just so happened that he was one of the rare few with bright, phosphorescent plumage. 

He’d been so proud of it, too, before this. Always happy to make his feathers glow iridescent for the kids or the sake of a bad pun. 

Now, they were what had gotten him into this mess, and they were what was going to ensure he never got out of it. Ampens weren’t designed to be plucked. His feathers were meant to let him siphon energy from the air. Without them, he would need to be touching someone directly to feed, and smugglers weren’t known for being cuddly with their victims. 

He’d heard the stories, tragic cautionary tales about captured Ampens wasting away from illness in solitary cages. He’d just never thought that would be how he went out. He’d always had more than enough energy with his shipmates around, even if Roman was the more tactile one. 

“Okay, this one.” The smuggler holding his left arm came to a stop in front of one of the doors in the cold hallway. The other one stopped a beat late, jerking Patton’s tender right arm painfully.   

“What? Isn’t this the Human’s cell?” They asked, uncertain. 

Patton felt the soft, fur-like down along the back of his neck and spine rise in alarm. Human? 

“Yeah, weren’t you paying attention? Ampens don’t have a shelf life, and we all know how Humans are. It’ll get rid of this one, we won’t have as much trouble managing it for a bit. Two problems solved at once.” 

The second smuggler responded, but the words were static in Patton’s ears. They were going to leave him with a Human. How had they even captured a Human? 

A rusty screech made him jerk his head up, and he realized the door had been opened just in time to be harshly shoved through. He hit the ground with a thud, scraping his legs and seconds later there was a slam and the lock clicked into place. 

He scrambled to his feet, clawing at the door hopelessly for a minute before a rustle made him turn and flatten himself against the wall.

The Human was large, not the biggest he’d ever seen, but definitely much larger than him. It was said that Humans could take down creatures twice or even thrice their size, though, so it really didn’t matter how big it was. It was half-crouched in the shade, most of its features completely obscured, but he could see the smooth, near-hairless skin even in the dark. 

Patton remained frozen. He’d heard that Humans didn’t have the same sight abilities as other creatures on their planet, so maybe he would be safe if he didn’t attract it’s attention…? 

There was a long, low exhale from the corner, and the Human lowered itself, somehow fading back even further into the corner until it was visible only as the barest shape.

He hardly dared to breathe. Was it truly that easy? Humans were bloodthirsty, cruel deathworlders. They ran off some of the most potent chemical combinations in the universe, and some of the most infamous massacres were due to Humans fighting brutally to the last. 

Moments passed, and he slowly sunk down, bit by bit, to the floor. The Human didn’t stir, and he sat there, wondering how he was going to handle all this, until his eyes drooped shut despite his best efforts.

When he woke, it was to the sound of a slot in the door clanging against a rations tray, which fell into his lap like a death sentence. He slowly looked up, and found that the Human was slightly more visible. 

And looking directly at him. 

It didn’t bare it’s bone-teeth or anything, but the gaze was unmistakably pinning him down. A low click of terror escaped him, and the Human tilted its head ever so slightly. After a moment, it clicked back. 

Patton had known that Humans had stunning mimicry skills, but it was bizarre to see it up close. He stared, eyes wide, until the Human’s gaze flicked down to the tray in their hands. He managed to stifle his instinct to throw the offending object far away from himself, but just barely. He was not getting in between a Human and what it wanted, no matter how long it had been since he’d eaten. 

Instead, he mechanically lifted it, setting it to the side and pushing it, slowly, in the Human’s direction. Away from him. 

“Your food.” He said under his breath, carefully sliding himself back until he found a corner, directly across from the Human’s corner. 

The Human watched him with those dark eyes for a moment longer, and then rose to its terrifying full height and walked to the rations, movements sharp and purposeful. 

Patton was sure to avoid eye contact as it reached the package. There was a long moment of rustling and tearing, and then-

“Your... food.” A raspy chur-and-click, replicated clumsily from his own earlier. He looked over, startled that the Human had heard his earlier muttering, and the Human shoved the tray, now open, once in his direction. 

He must have stared for too long, because the Human flushed a strange red and slowly returned to its corner, never turning its back to Patton. He chose to believe that pinched expression didn’t mean anything too bad, seeing as he hadn’t been outright attacked. He shuffled carefully over to the tray.

It was a bit early to start hoping, but as he carefully took a bite from the halved rations, Patton found himself wondering if he’d survive this encounter after all. 

—

There wasn’t much to do but think and sleep when one was captured by smugglers and left in their cold, featureless cells. Seeing as Patton’s thoughts always managed to wander back to the stressful Human enigma across the small room, he spent a significant amount of time sleeping instead. 

It was nerve-wracking the first few times, expecting to be attacked at any moment. He woke at the slightest sound, leaving him restless. But every time he bolted upright, the Human was still crouched in its own corner, looking for all the world like it hadn’t moved an inch.  

After a while, he started sleeping more soundly, though whether that was due to the Human’s predictability or his own fatigue was anyone’s guess. As such, he didn’t realize the Human had moved until the soft sensation of strange textile cloth suddenly draped over his sensitive skin. 

He woke immediately, thrashing, because the last time someone had touched him it had been the most agonizing experience of his life, and then the Human was pressing down on him, keeping him immobilized. He twitched against the immense force, but the Human must have run into Ampens before, because the fabric created a barrier between its hands and Patton. He couldn’t take any energy without direct contact, and he’d barely had any to start with. There was no winning this fight.

Patton felt his body go limp, drained from the struggle, and waited for the pressure to increase, crush him until he was no more. 

Instead, the pressure lightened significantly, a muted exhale coming from above him. What? Prehensile fingers wrapped around his sides and pulled, dragging him over to the wrong corner, the one swathed in shadow. Patton’s antennae twitched anxiously. What was it going to do, disembowel him? Stars, couldn’t it just be done with it already? 

A heartbeat later, the Human backed off, turning to the door and, for the first time, exposing its back to Patton.

Before he could even begin to process that, the door swung open heavily, and four smugglers crowded into the room. They all wore heavy dark bodysuits, and held rods that crackled menacingly with energy. They surrounded the Human, who hadn’t even looked in his direction, and one of them pressed a tranq patch against its neck, making it turn and snap its teeth harshly, face thunderous.  

The others lifted their weapons, but moments later the Human’s legs folded out from beneath it, meaning that the patch had probably had enough drugs on it to kill Patton seven times over. 

“He certainly went easier than usual today.” One commented, voice distorted by their mask. They seemed to be staring at the Human’s fallen body curiously.

Another snorted, grabbing one of the Human’s limbs and pulling. 

“We gave it an Ampen the other day. Probably still feels sated from tearing that apart. Now, do your job. We don’t have forever and Humans are dense creatures.”

“Yes, yes.” 

Patton remained still and silent as the others assisted, hauling the Human up and carrying it- him? out of the cell, the door swinging shut behind them. 

He slowly dragged himself from under the fabric, turning his head to investigate it curiously. It wasn’t the Human’s shed skin, so it was probably an article of clothing he had been wearing. Why put it over Patton and then leave? Many Humans had keen ears, the Human probably heard the guards coming, so why attack then? Could something so ineffective even really be called an attack? 

There were no answers easily forthcoming, and the dark fabric was strangely warm, so Patton curled up and waited for someone to return.

Ampens weren’t known for their keen physical senses, but he strained to keep his ears open, and when footsteps approached the cell, he immediately pulled his head back under the Human cloth. 

It was only after the door had been opened, a body roughly tossed in, and then slammed shut again that Patton wondered how wise it was to continue using something that clearly belonged to the Human. Was it even the Human who had been brought back to the cell? He couldn’t imagine many scenarios that could be scarier than this had already been, beyond maybe another, unknown Human. 

He dared to look out past the cloth, and froze in astonishment. The Human was flat on his back, head turned towards Patton but eyes barely focused. Right, they probably didn’t transport him anywhere without drugging him out of his mind. He carefully crept over, closer than he’d ever dared to come before. 

It took him awhile to realize why the Human looked different: more of his odd skin was exposed from shedding the cloth earlier. He resisted the urge to reach out and touch, take energy to fill up the sickening void within him, knowing that doing such a thing might break the fragile truce he’d forged with the Human. 

The Human took a long moment, and then seemed to finally register Patton’s presence. His face twitched into an almost-snarl, but the motion ended as soon as it began. Instead, he let out a long, low sigh, and his head lolled back.

Patton, like most in his nebula, didn’t know anything about Human body language beyond ‘if it looks at you, run’, so he could only assume that this was some sort of threat display out of anger or unhappiness at his current state. He scrambled back a bit to give the Human space, and then grabbed the cloth, bringing it over and even daring to gently drape it over the Human before darting back again. 

The poor thing had no insulation built into his skin, it was no wonder he had all these outer layers for warmth. Patton slowly retreated to his own corner, wondering why the Human had used it on him. Maybe the lack of feathers made him worry that Patton was uninsulated as well? 

It wasn’t exactly what anyone would expect a Human to do- they weren’t known for rampant mothering instincts- but Patton hoped that it was true regardless. After all, all he had now was his optimism. 

[amongushq]

Welcome (back) to Among Us, TILLY! VALENTINA HERNÁNDEZ ( with the faceclaim of SOFIA CARSON ) has found shelter in CAMP JUPITER, where we hope SHE will fit in nicely. Please make sure to check the “after applying”section of our navigation here!

Charmspeak is a potent weapon: children of Aphrodite are aware of that because of how rare the skill is for them. Here though we have someone whose godly parent is all about the sweet words wrapping people around her fingers, meaning that Valentina's charmspeaking abilities are way above what we've seen before. The way she decides to use them (in defense of herself or others) or not at all (allowing the Roman campers to make their own minds about whether she should be welcomed back) shows us a great deal of her mentality. She's in control and appears cold, that much is true, but she has a moral compass which, even though not everyone could approve of it, is wired into her desire not to see innocents get hurt again. In that regard the exchanges between Val and others about the mole will be a bumpy ride, and we're counting on her to stand her ground and remain the confident young woman the horrors she witnessed led her to become.

TW: descriptions of rape / sexual assault, specifically in part III.

AND YOU ARE...?

I.

Valentine’s Day came on a Friday in 1997. Juan Diego Hernández had always loved Fridays. Fridays were his day off, he’d met his wife on a Friday, and the day just held a generally pleasant atmosphere for him. What he did not expect, however, was a baby to show up on his doorstep that particular Friday, in the arms of the woman he’d cheated on his wife with.

He was a politician, one of Colombia’s finest, even. His wife, Gabriela Maria Hernández, was the perfect example of what a politician’s wife should be like, in the eyes of the press. They had been high school sweethearts, and finally decided that there wasn’t going to be any other partner as good for them as each other, so a wedding had been followed by two children and a cat to have a lively home when Juan was at work and Gabriela was at home.

But more had been brewing below the surface. Even the most faithful of husbands were tempted sometimes, and although the family appeared happy on the outside, the inside was just rotten. On Juan’s part, that was. Gabriela was living happily in the bliss of marriage, even after ten years of it. Her husband grew restless, unsatisfied with his marriage, so when a seductive, alluring goddess of a woman had tempted him with a walk on the wild side one night, he’d taken it. She’d been whispering in his ear for a while back then, distracting him at work with thoughts he never should have been having in the first place. That was why he’d wandered off to a less-than-proper place, where women danced and men supplied encouragement for them to keep dancing. She’d called herself Susie, and that was all he knew about her when she took him into the room at the back and made him hers. Nine months later, she was on his doorstep, depositing the baby into his arms with a satisfied, smug smile, like she knew more than him, before she vanished.

Of course, he’d explained everything to his wife. He was a good man, who made a mistake. She wasn’t angry with him, or even sad. She’d seen it coming, really, with his constant pressure to keep up appearances for the media. Instead, Gabriela was angry with the woman who dared to take away her husband, and the child she so conveniently dropped on her doorstep. No, she wasn’t angry; she was furious. To please his wife, Juan gave her the rights to do what she wanted with the baby. The little girl’s entire life belonged to Gabriela. He even named the infant after her, but, unbeknownst to her, also kept a little of the beautiful dancer in his life.

The baby was named Valentina Carmen Maria Gabriela Hernández, and she was not nearly enough to please her stepmother.

II.

Gabriela tried, she really did. She wanted to love this little brat as much as she loved her own daughter and son. She even hired a nanny to take care of the girl when she was too busy with her own children, but she just couldn’t do it. She was forever reminded of that woman who seduced her man every time she looked into her eyes, even when they were filled with tears. Three long years she tried her very best, but then she broke. Arguments ending in “you take her out, or I will leave” were becoming more and more frequent, and Juan finally made the decision to send his daughter away to America. He got Gabriela to at least agree to talk to the press about it. The world didn’t know the name of the little girl, nor whose child she actually was, but they now knew she’d died of leukaemia when she was only three years old.

She hadn’t died, though. She was put on a plane to San Francisco, where she was going to be raised by her nanny, an unattractive, old woman named Gloria, hired by the girl’s parents and personally chosen by Gabriela, obviously. Gloria was a kind woman, who raised Valentina like she would raise her own daughter.. They spoke Spanish, and the English the girl learnt in school, she taught to Gloria, so they slowly learned together. She was put in a good school and took ice skating lessons, paid for by her father. She did not behave in a good way, though. Before she turned twelve, Valentina was kicked out of three schools, all accusing her of theft and trickery. She never stole a thing, though, and people just did what she wanted them to do when she asked. She kept insisting that it hadn’t been her fault.

What had been her fault, was the dead giant that ended up on the sidewalk below their apartment that year. It had finally come for her after nine years of going unnoticed in America, waiting for her in the building. It had been so, so quiet when she came home from school, which, afterwards, regularly made her wonder how a creature that size made no sound at all. She’d taken the stairs that day, something she rarely did when the elevator was unoccupied, which had been a good decision; the thing had been malfunctioning because of the weight of the stinking blue creature trying to utilize it. Once she opened the door, the smell got worse, and the temperature dropped several degrees: Valentina was met with the sight of a Hyperborean Giant that had freshly frozen her nanny into a block of ice, after which he smashed the nanny-sicle apart with his bare hands. A horrified scream had made its way out of her throat, and in her rage, she told the giant to walk out of the window.

Their apartment was on the sixth floor, so it was safe to say that neither her nanny, nor the giant survived.

She ran away from the city after that, not wanting to be reminded of the site where the horrors had occurred. She was found by the she-wolf Lupa, who went through all the regular training any Roman demigod at her wolf house did with her, and it took the average amount of time before Valentina was deemed worthy and sent off to Camp Jupiter.

III.

Her journey to camp was a rough one. She was attacked by multiple monsters of many species, but that wasn’t the worst part. The fact that most of them looked human before she sent them to their deaths was. With just a single word, she killed every monster in her way, growing more and more terrified of her own power with every word uttered.

No, that wasn’t the worst part either. The worst part happened one single night, in a dark alleyway somewhere on the edge of San Francisco, Valentina stumbled across a young woman, a terrified look on her face. Instead of approaching her, she hid behind a dumpster, wanting to see what could frighten a mortal that much. A stupid mistake. She should have just talked to the girl, or grabbed her to go some place safe.

What she saw that night would haunt her forever. Suddenly, there was a guy, he’d seemingly come back for the woman. He tried to share his food with her - Thai, from the smell of it, mixed with alcohol, but she wouldn’t eat. He got angry. He was a violent drunk. The girl was slapped, multiple times, before he got down to what he really intended to do with her. Her clothes were torn off of her body, but she didn’t scream or scratch or do anything - she just… stood there. She let it happen.

So did Valentina. She couldn’t avert her eyes; her throat was dry so she couldn’t scream even if she wanted to. It was as if she and the girl both, were in trance. Rhythmic thuds filled her ears, until she finally found her voice and her common sense. “Stop! What are you doing?”

The victim’s eyes were filled with tears, the guy’s were filled with rage. She finally came out of her hiding place, her little hands curled into fists. She didn’t allow the guy to put his clothes back on before she saved the girl.

“I want you to take a dip and swim to the San Pablo Bay. And then I want you to drown yourself.”

Her charmspeak was still undeveloped, mainly fueled by rage and sadness then, and a little faulty, so she had no idea what eventually happened to the guy. The girl, Jenny, was taken to a hospital and cared for.  

And Valentina continued her journey to camp.

IV.

The incident fueled her insecurities. The world was so evil, so scary, that it would only be a matter of time before something happened to her and her safe place. She got to camp eventually, a broken, crying girl; a camper on probatio at the start of a war. Determined to be in charge, in power. So she became strong.

Little thoughts started making its way into her head. “You are not good enough. You’re a cheat, a fraud, you don’t deserve to be here.” They weren’t her own, that was for sure, because she distinctly remembered the voice of an old woman saying them all. Most of them went without much of a reply on Valentina’s part, she continued her daily routines without any disturbances. But then, the whispers turned into “You are not good enough - but what if you were?”, which became “You are not good enough - I can make you good enough.”

She was strong. Lupa hadn’t chosen her without a reason. That’s what she kept telling herself as she struggled to ignore the voice in her head, which became harder and harder to resist. She finally cracked when her life and her new safe haven were threatened to be destroyed. Along with her family in Colombia. She couldn’t just let innocent mortals suffer. She certainly didn’t have any idea that that was exactly Gaea’s plan.

She fought with her campers in the war, of course. But the Giants and Gaea needed information, which she supplied under duress, never sure of what Gaea needed with her information. She provided the number of able-bodied campers, the chances of winning, the state of mind of the Romans.

The demigods won the war, and Gaea was put back to sleep. No one found out about her betrayal, so she didn’t have to confess. But her guilty conscience was eating away at her, and she did reveal her secret. No charmspeak was used to weasel her way back into camp; she never tried to convince anyone to let her stay or to do anything at all. It was decreed that she should stay, albeit on probatio. Two years later, at age fifteen, Valentina was claimed as Suadela’s daughter, which didn’t come as a surprise to most people. Claiming generally happened at the wolf house, of course, so the only surprise of her being unclaimed previously had already passed. But Valentina had been seducing and convincing people of all genders ever since she arrived, because she swore to herself she would never feel helpless again. People would bend to her will, and not the other way around. After her claiming, there was the matter of her cohort left. She had no one left to write her recommendation letter for her, and obviously the gods weren’t fooled by a silver tongue, so she was to be judged on her skills alone. She’d developed a talent for the whip; that combined with her charmspeak abilities and general demigod fighting skills, made her a valuable addition to the Fourth Cohort.

V.

Making friends wasn’t supposed to be too hard when one could make people feel and do whatever one wanted. But Valentina only used that particular power of hers when she actually needed to. The trick that helped her make friends was her general mysterious, seductive air. People were drawn to the beautiful girl with the intriguing words, almost like she was a Siren, drawing sailors to their deaths with her songs. She didn’t use her songs. What she did do, was follow in ‘Susie’s’ footsteps; she danced: tried her hand at most styles, but never picking a favourite, never mastering any. She danced, and took up ice skating again in the little ice skating rink in New Rome. People started calling her the ice queen, because she broke hearts left and right like it was no big deal. And it wasn’t - not to her. As long as she stayed in charge, she would never get hurt again. No one she cared about would get hurt like the girl in the city.

The mole situation actually worked out quite well for her. With them lurking about, dropping clues and terrorizing the campers’ thoughts, people are less worried about her. Some Romans never got over her betrayal, even after she spilled all her secrets without having to. She was welcomed back, yes, but not with open arms. But thanks to the mole, their thoughts are elsewhere: the general focus is not on her anymore. She understands why they did it, too. Something like this, hiding an entire species, it was bound to get out sometime anyways. They just sped up the process. She didn’t ask to be a fighter, or a soldier. Just because she was a demigod, demigoddess, or a demi-daimon, or demi.. whatever she was, she had to fight wars. It was unfair, and she was sick of pretending to be someone she wasn’t. So her inner seductress was let out, and never caged again.

VI.

“And you are…?”

“Aw, please. Don’t be so mean, hermoso. There’s no need for that! We both know you hate this job. You’re only asking us what you already know anyways. So why not have some fun, hm?”

“…”

“Don’t be like that. I know you saw me. I know what you’re thinking. What you want. You’re not that much older than me, you know.”

“I don’t know-”

“Yes, you do. Did you know lying is a sin?”

“Miss Her-”

“So you do know my name. Fine. Have it your way, then. You’ll let me sit here in silence and let me go after the appropriate time has passed. You will then tell your boss you had a nice chat with me, but you didn’t get anything out of it. They shouldn’t worry about me, and they should move on to the next camper.”

“…”

“…”

“…”

“Alright, time’s up, miss Hernández. You can go now. Enjoy the rest of your day.”

“Thank you, darling.”