#love that the patterns on the abdomen form an arrow!

[paper-possum-party-pal]

New Narrator fanart!! This time for @bugenthusiast0’s Narrator!!!

I went through a bit of trial and error to get this one right but in the end I’m very happy with how it turned out!

I love @bugenthusiast0’s use of proportion for the design along with the colors! His Narrator is just so jolly looking and I really wanted to try and capture that joy! I say this for everyone’s narrators but she looks so so huggable I just wanna squeeze them! I’m a very big fan of how bug like the whole design is too! You have the obvious parts like the abdomen and antenna, the more subtle fangs and claws, and then the design of the outfit. The suit jacket very much reminds me of an insects carapace in the same way The Other Mother’s outfit does.

Closeups

[f1amboyant]

Hi darling i'm here again to ask for the kiss prompts💗 i hope you don't get sick of me cause i have a feeling you're gonna be seeing me more often hahaha❤️❤️

"I really, really want to kiss you" + kissing in the rain & hand in your lover's hair for charlos😘

I have so many ideas running in my head for these prompts but can't find the right words to write a good fic so here I am asking one of my fave authors🤍🤍🤍

Hello, darling!

I'm not sick of your prompts, don't worry 🥰

I'm not sure this is what you had in mind with this one, but I hope you like it (I had so much fun writing this little fic).

Enjoy!

Read it on AO3!

.

The demons crawled all around them, hideous creatures coming out from the shadows with too many legs and too many teeth. Ugly as ever, they growled, spitting poisonous ichor through their too big mouths.

Carlos barely flinched, nocking an arrow to his bow and aiming for the demons. He felt a firm presence at his back, as Charles took his place behind him.

He felt it in his veins.

In his heart.

In his rune.

In his soul.

Parabatai.

“Ready?” Carlos asked.

“I am more than ready, Carlos,” Charles immediately answered, taking out his seraph blade, the Adamas glinting in the night.

Carlos could feel his excitement, the thrum in his veins, the same rhythm in their hearts. One, two, three breaths, in perfect synchronicity. They didn’t need a signal to attack simultaneously. Charles jumped and Carlos let his arrow fly.

They fought as one.

Parabatai.

They prevailed as one.

Parabatai.

Carlos didn’t have the words to express how much he loved it, how much he could lose himself in Charles, only Charles, moving in harmony together. Truth be told, even if he had the words, he wouldn’t have said them aloud. What he felt was not something he should have felt for his parabatai. But how could he resist it? It was Charles.

Distracted by the turn of his thoughts, he glanced back at his partner, watching him, just for a second, as he twirled around angry sword in hand, slashing through demon after demon. Beautiful. Vengeful angel. Carlos’.

He was his.

(But also, he was not, and that was the problem.)

The demon caught him by surprise, charging toward him and flinging him against the nearest wall. His back collided with the concrete, punching the breath out of him and a cry of pain.

“Carlos!”

Carlos felt the twinge of worry from Charles in his own heart, as his parabatai charged the remaining demons with a newfound strength, exterminating them in less than two seconds. He was beautiful. Magnificent. A true Shadowhunter, in his purest form. Carlos was nothing compared to him.

(And he felt the unspeakable for him.)

Demons eliminated, Charles crouched next to Carlos, immediately taking out his stele.

“What happened? Are you hurt?”

He patted Carlos’ body, on his thigh, his torso, the side of his neck and even his jaw, stroking lightly on his cheekbone with a thumb. Carlos shivered. And it had nothing to do with the bruises on his back or the ankle he might have twisted on the impact.

“It’s nothing,” he said in a raspy voice.

But Charles didn’t listen. Eyes hyper focused, he lifted the hem of Carlos’ shirt with one hand, splaying his whole palm on Carlos’ hipbone, and yielding the stele with his other hand, drawing the pattern of the Iratze on Carlos’ skin. The healing power washed over him immediately. But the heat on his cheeks belonged to Charles alone and the fingers grazing the skin of his lower abdomen in the most tantalizing way.

That rune placement would truly be the death of him. He thought himself so clever when he drew it there, imagining how many times Charles would have to admire his abs as he activated the Mark. The only thing that happened was the too tantalizing touch of Charles’ hands on his body, every fucking time, so close to where he truly desired him.

It elicited very forbidden feelings in him.

Carlos bit his lip, trying to keep the small moan from escaping his mouth. Lucky for him, Charles didn’t seem to notice. Or he didn’t say anything. He looked up proudly at Carlos, beautiful eyes glinting.

“See,” he said with a confident smile (though his heart, Carlos could feel it, was heavy with something else). “You need me. You shouldn’t leave.”

He tried to wink (and failed) and Carlos fell in love even more than before.

Which was exactly why he had to leave.

“You’re not changing my mind,” he mumbled, finally getting up and shouldering past Charles before he could do something stupid.

Like saying he would stay.

Or like kissing his parabatai.

(Because he really wanted to.)

“Let’s go home.”

A home that wouldn’t be a home soon and Carlos already felt his heart breaking at the prospect. But it was the right thing to do, wasn’t it? His feelings for Charles were becoming more and more present. No matter how hard he tried, he could never suppress them. And expressing them? Impossible. What other choice did he have? He had to flee.

For Charles, he had to leave.

He couldn’t condemn him.

They walked home mostly in silence, speeding up their pace when rain started to drizzle lightly over their heads, and then heavier and heavier. It was properly downpouring when they got to the Institute but Charles stopped them before they could reach the wards. Pulling Carlos by the elbow, he dragged him between a few trees, hiding them from spying eyes.

“What are you doing?”

Charles crossed his arms over his chest.

“Why are you leaving?” he asked, no bullshit, staring straight at Carlos, peering into his soul.

Carlos mimicked him and crossed his arms too. Defensive.

“Come on, Charles. It’s raining, let’s go inside.”

He tried to move but Charles grabbed his shoulder and pushed him back into place.

“No,” he snarled, visibly angry (and Carlos could feel the heat boiling into his heart and his stomach, the emotions pouring from his parabatai). “Not before you tell me what’s going on, Carlos. We’re parabatai. Together or nothing, that’s what you always say. And suddenly you want to leave? I need to know why.”

“Charles…”

Carlos took a step forward, but Charles just planted a fist into his chest. Right over his parabatai rune.

“What’s so great about the Barcelona Institute?” Charles asked, almost pleading. The emotion tore from his throat and right through Carlos’ heart. Unbearable. “We’ve been here for years, we have everything we dreamt about.”

Carlos gulped down, thickly.

“I just have to leave.”

“Why?”

This time, Charles was the one to step closer, putting them so close Carlos could count the wet lashes on Charles’ eyes. The rain hadn’t stopped, but Charles wouldn’t budge before he got an answer. Something Carlos couldn’t give him.

His lips shone with rain, prettier than ever.

“Why do you have to leave?” Charles asked again. “If you want a change of scenery, I’ll come with you.”

“I need some distance.”

Carlos’ heart was beating so fast and so loud he could barely hear himself.

“Why?”

“You know why.”

After all these years, there was no way Charles didn’t know. Their hearts beat as one, after all. How could he have missed the fact that Carlos’ heart beat a new tempo, that he longed for more? So much more. Something that he could never have. And it was killing him (killing them both).

His eyes racked over Charles’ features, the sweet curl of wet hair mated to his forehead, his straight nose and high cheekbones, the piercing eyes that changed color with time and now looked stormy and dangerous and desperate. Carlos’ eyes dropped to Charles’ lips, pink and kissable.

Fuck! He almost made a move to kiss him. This. This was why he had to leave.

“You know why,” he insisted, voice going rough.

“No, I don’t,” Charles pleaded, angry and hurt. “Tell me why my parabatai, my forever, wants to leave me.”

And really. What could Carlos say but the truth?

“Because I really really want to kiss you.”

That finally shut Charles up. Finally, Carlos thought. Finally, Charles would know the full truth and reject him. It would be painful for both of them, and that was exactly what he wanted to avoid by getting away. But at least now, Charles would understand and would let him go without a fuss. Carlos only hoped the bond they forged as parabatai, not the one inked in their skin by a rune, but the one that naturally bloomed between them, would be strong enough that Charles would understand without reporting him to the Clave.

But Charles didn’t push him away (or punch him like Carlos could have thought). Instead, the fist on his chest unfurled and a warm palm spread over his pec (over his heart).

“Then what are you waiting for?” Charles whispered.

“To leave?” Carlos left out a humorless laugh. “My bag is already packed. I’m just waiting for my clearance and I’ll be out of your way, Charles. I promise…”

“Shut up.”

Charles’ hand suddenly moved, faster than when he fought demons, and went to the back of Carlos’ head, threading his fingers through thick black hair. Carlos felt the tantalizing sting to his scalp.

“I meant,” Charles said, panting, pulling Carlos closer, so close their noses almost touched. His blue-green eyes seemed wild, his hair completely drenched. “What are you waiting for to kiss me?”

Carlos’ heart leaped to his throat. This couldn’t be… No. Impossible. Charles couldn’t possibly mean it. And yet he felt the phantom of his parabatai’s heart against his own. And there was no doubt, no repulsion, no fear.

Just.

Love.

“Kiss me,” Charles said.

And so Carlos followed the pull of Charles’ hand, the pull of his heart, the pull of their bond drawing them ever closer, and he kissed him. Under the heavy rain, their runes ignited.

.

-> Masterlist

[gossipsnake]

TIMING: Current, (the day after this) LOCATION: On the edge of The Pines and Seven Peaks PARTIES: Anita (@gossipsnake), Inge (@nightmaretist), Otis (@kodiacast), and Cass (@magmahearts) SUMMARY: Inge, through the ether, spots a familiar face out in the cold and seeks out help from Otis. They come across Magma and together try to save Anita from the cold. CONTENT WARNINGS: None

Anita could tell, as she floated in and out of consciousness on the forest floor, that she was nearly done shedding her old skin. The arrow wound that had previously penetrated deep into her abdomen was healed and the only evidence of the injury laid in the dark red blood stains of the scales that had been pushed off of her body, coiled up in the molted exoskeleton that was bunched up near the rattle at the end of her tail. Her body had done its job and healed itself from the unexpected attack that had taken place days earlier. But what her body could no longer do was transform back into her human form… or move at all, really. 

It was early morning, the sun not even peeking up over the mountains that surrounded her yet, and the freezing temperatures of the Maine winter had proven to be too much for the mojave lamia to overcome. With every ounce of might she could conjure, Anita tried to get up off her back. She tried to start the journey home, one slither at a time, but all she was able to do was twitch her tail ever so slightly and create a soft shaking rattle. It barely rivaled the winds that were whipping around her, not that she really expected anyone to be nearby to even hear her. “Lo siento,” escaped from her lips as she fought to keep herself awake. Lamia, like any cold blooded reptile, can’t handle extreme temperatures for long periods of time and Anita had been battling the cold for at least two days as she molted. Her quiet apology was to herself, and to her loved ones, for the carelessness that led to the dire circumstances she had found herself in. There was no talking her way out of this mess, though, not this time. She had to hope for a miracle, one she doubted she even deserved. 

_ 

She relished in the astral, her aching earthly body forgotten as she glanced down at Wicked’s Rest. This might as well be how she hiked, how she enjoyed the last hour of night before she was tied to the earthly plane again. Inge intended for it to be a moment of respite. Of course, her intentions never worked out — and as she looked down at the forest and its nightly critters, she halted. Another astral entity balked at her for stopping in her tracks but she didn’t much care. There was a snake on the forest ground, larger than average and with a scale pattern Inge knew. A scale pattern she’d stroked, appreciated, marveled at.

She manifested back onto the earthly plane, crouching at the sight of her. There was blood and scales and an arrow, abandoned but stained with the same blood. “Anita –” She found confirmation that it was indeed her colleague, friend and occasional lover as she crouched there. 

Inge was many things, but she wasn’t equipped to carry a snake that size home nor did she have any warmth to offer it. She too was coldblooded, after all, and her already measly physical strength was limited by her own healing injury. And so she offered a promise of return, dropped a pin on her phone and searched the astral for a helping hand. Requirements of said hand were as follows: not weird about shapeshifters, strong and willing to help. Preferably awake. She scoured her mind, scoured the town and ended up staring down at Otis, slumped on his couch but awake. She appeared in front of his door, banged on it and didn’t wait long to say what she needed when he opened it.

“Otis — hi, I need your help. A person needs your help!” Person, snake – same thing. Inge tugged at his arm. “You have a car? My friend, she’s in the woods, she’s …” She frowned. “Injured. She needs tending to.” A glance. “Discreetly.”

—

The firefighter had only just closed his eyes. The night shift wasn't a particularly hard or grueling slog, but it was long. Lots of little calls. Not a lot of sleep. Better though, he thought, than any big dangers. Fires were far more common this time of year than people realized. And usually electrical, which were so much more dangerous, had a much bigger capacity for lethal spread. 

Luckily, Wicked's Rest had afforded Otis some of its namesake in the sense that the only sights he saw that night were false alarms and easy fixes. A few fallen seniors, a few folks caught out in the cold in need of shelter, a few more mysteriously dizzy and fatigued, always coming out of that strange fancy bar downtown. Dan's Cabra or whatever. Otis didn't really get what goats had to do with alcohol and dizzy patrons without a drop of alcohol in their bloodstream. Always coy about how they got into that state. He didn't pry much either though. Just did his job, until he could go home. 

Home was a run down walkup, third floor apartment. The front door didn't lock, the paint was cracked, peeling, and probably far more lead filled than the landlord would ever admit. It was creaky, leaky, and drafty. But he was allowed to make alterations to one of the rooms enough that he had a good recording studio, and that's all Otis really needed. He was a simple guy. Why would he need fancy things? No one needed those amenities, like a dishwasher, or an actual bed, or a doorbell. People who visited seemed to manage just fine. 

The knock came, the bear groaned. A long low sigh set into the pillow he'd crashed into upon arriving home. It took a considerable effort to peel himself off the couch, to walk the short space between there and the door, and he hesitated before opening it because… there was a shade of fear on the other side. Unease. Worry. Not as potent as proper fear, but still present. Still something that made Otis' tummy twinge at the thought of seeing whoever it belonged to. 

Worse, when he opened the door, it was a familiar face. Inge Endeman. The professor, or something. From the college? That was the second place they met, or was it the first? Either way, Inge was a face he wouldn't soon forget. Not with the way she tracked him down, made him spill his metaphorical bear beans and give up a dire secret he'd promised his mamas he'd never tell another living soul. Otis couldn't say he was happy to see her, but the moment she explained he was already locked into whatever this mission was. Someone was in need. That's all he needed to know. 

“Yeah. Truck. Where we goin’?” 

—

She didn’t sleep much these days. If asked, she’d insist it was because superheroes didn’t sleep much, anyway. Batman wasn’t known for taking naps, after all, and Daredevil probably hadn’t had a full night’s sleep in years. It was a solid excuse. It made sense, it was easy to claim, it could be backed up with hundreds of issues of comic books providing ‘proof.’

But it was still just an excuse.

The truth was something far less fun. The truth was far more tied to the warden’s hand that she still felt gripping her throat months later, to the empty spot beside her where Alex used to sleep, to the crypt where she and her friends had faced down Metzli’s sire and left behind so much dust and ash that sometimes she still felt as though she was choking on it. Superheroes didn’t sleep, but Cass hadn’t felt like a superhero in months now, and she was awake, anyway. She didn’t want to think about what that probably meant.

Walking helped, sometimes. Feeling the Earth beneath her bare feet, pretending she could still help people if she tried hard enough. She was out in the woods tonight, close to the road but not too close. The odds of running into someone in need of a hero were low, but she had her glamour down, anyway, like she was still Magma, still useful. She heard the occasional car on the roadside, people going home from work or the bar or wherever people went at this hour, but nothing of note.

At least, not until one of those cars stopped. 

She was curious; she usually was. She moved towards the sound carefully, prepared to peer out from a well-hidden spot where she wouldn’t be seen until she spotted —

“Otis?” Superheroes and firefighters had a ‘working relationship,’ and Cass had run into Otis more than once. But there was no firetruck nearby, and the only thing resembling flames that she could feel was her own magma. “What are you doing here? What’s —” The passenger door opened, and Cass blinked at the unfortunately familiar woman who stepped out. “Oh. Um, if you guys are going to… do something weird in the woods, can you wait until I leave?”

—

She was glad for many things. Glad that Otis wasn’t like her, ready to question everything she said, pressing to find out the truth. Glad that he didn’t ask how she’d gotten there, why she’d known he was awake, why she was asking him. Inge wasn’t often overrun with appreciation for the naive and kindhearted but today she was. “The woods.” 

She got in the driver’s seat, glad that he had a truck and she didn’t have to sink down far to get into it. She looked for somewhere to put her phone, but soon realized the truck was from the year pre-smartphone and gave up. “Just straight ahead,” she said, turning on navigation on her phone and instructing Otis to their point of destination. Of course they couldn’t drive the car all the way to where she’d found Anita (though Inge wouldn’t be opposed to it — trees regrew). So they parked, a small walk away from where her serpentine friend was. She gave Otis a small rundown, omitted some details because she figured it’d be easier if he just asked whatever questions popped in his head. She wasn’t sure how far she could trust him, after all. Desperate times, though.

Upon exiting the car, Inge was ready to start a brisk walk that would have her regret it later, when the pain settled deeper in her muscles. For now, though, she was focused. Hopeful, almost, but mostly dealing with that powerless fury that came after the damage done by hunters. If her back and gut didn’t hurt still, she’d almost consider revenge.

But before she could even start, there was another figure joining the scene. Her eyes fell on the girl who’d poured lava into her bag and narrowed. “Scram,” she told her, voice tight. “Leave now. That way.” She pointed in the opposite direction. “Bye. We have weird things to do. No time to be robbed.” Inge looked at Otis and nudged her head in the direction her phone was pointing them. “Come on.”

—

Very few people accused Otis of having the grit to rub together two thoughts to make an idea, but this was something he had studied for. Something he knew quite a bit about. “Hypothermia.” He stood firm between the strange woman and the stranger superhero. He didn't know how Magma did her special effects, or if it was just another trick of his overactive imagination, but the girl did put off a magnitude of heat that would be down right useful at a time like this. 

“You said it was hypothermia, Miss Inge, we could use all the help we kin get.” The bear nodded towards the hero, a little star struck as he'd always been every time she was on the scene. The firefighters had a sort of… section for the weird shit in town. Otis, unknowingly, had been sorted right in. He didn't notice that his company had a knack for hitting emergencies all over town rather than just in one small neighborhood. He didn't notice that the others on shift with him also had a strangeness about them. Better suited to work in teams against the oddness the town had to offer. There was a reason Otis and his company kept running into Magma, a reason they'd given the hero the number that went straight to their station. Otis didn't know, but he was happy to see the vigilante every time. Made him feel special. Like the background character in a comic book that got featured for a page. Even got a line here and there. 

“Magma, we do need your help. Please.” 

—

It wasn’t as if she was surprised that sketchbook lady remembered her. Cass was pretty memorable. She left a lasting impression, she turned heads! Still, she’d hoped that the woman might be the ‘forgive and forget’ type. No such luck, apparently. Rolling her eyes, Cass prepared herself to walk away, but something in Otis’s voice stopped her.

Hypothermia? 

“Who has hypothermia?” Cass glanced between the two, but neither of them seemed quite ‘cold’ enough to set off any alarm bells there. “That’s definitely something I can help with. Tell me what you need?” 

And so, Otis did. He explained why ‘Miss Inge’ (no way was Cass giving sketchbook lady that level of respect!) found him the way she had, that there was someone who needed help in the woods. Was there ever any question about whether or not Cass was going to lend a helping hand? She might not have been a very good superhero, especially not anymore, but she was still a superhero. She wanted to be better, to do better. She really did.

When Otis was done, she glanced to Inge. “Look,” she said, “I don’t care if you like me or not.” Her stomach churned with the lie. “I want to help. And you’d be stupid not to let me help, by the way, since heat is kind of my whole thing! So lead the way, and I’ll save the day. Deal?”

—

The wispy auburn hair and doe eyes felt like a vision to the lamia as she fought to keep hold of her own consciousness. But everything inside of Anita was running slowly and running out of time, including all inklings of rational thought. The woman she was looking up at was devastatingly beautiful and for a brief moment Anita wondered if this was the face of death coming to collect her. But the eyes were too familiar, just like the voice that spoke her name, and just as she was able to place that familiarity it was gone with the slow blink of her eyes. The interaction seemed so quick that it hadn’t even felt real. Why would Inge have been out here in the woods? If she had been here, why would she have left just as quickly as she appeared? 

No, Anita convinced herself, it was a hallucination. Her mind was crying out for help and so it manifested a glimmer of hope for itself. The choice for that hope was curious. She had time to think about all of the people she would want to see before the end as she laid there over the past forty eight hours trying to heal herself and, admittedly, Inge hadn’t quite made the list. Her mind had gone straight to family, to Metzli. And as the cold had continue to set in, Anita thought about her blood -  those she left behind in Mexico. 

Seeing Inge, even for that fleeting moment, made Anita realize just how closed off she was to this town. Isolating herself had always felt like a defense mechanism but now she was surrounded by the manifestation of that isolation and it was painful. It hadn’t protected her at all but instead made her vulnerable. Her eyes had shut again and she didn’t quite have a sense of how much time had passed when they managed to slowly flutter open again. Something had stirred her some noise off in the distance. 

With exceptional difficulty as her body felt like it was freezing solid, the lamia managed to shift her head up towards whatever she had heard. It was just enough for Anita to see some heat signatures off in the distance. One was just faintly warmer than the freezing temperatures surrounding them, one seemed rather normal, and one burned a heat she had only seen a few times before. Was her mind imagining this, too? “Cass…?,” she whispered faintly, undoubtedly too quietly to be heard from such a distance.

_ 

Otis called the little lava-flowing thief Magma and Inge would have laughed if it wasn’t for the situation. She was no good at this — she wasn’t like the other two people standing on this forest floor. There was no heroic bone in her body, but she’d be damned if she let Anita lay on that forest floor looking as she did. And though she wasn’t sure what happened, she assumed a hunter had loosened that arrow. She was done with losing things at the hands of hunters. Dignity. Lovers. A feeling of safety.

She glared between them. She wasn’t sure what ‘Magma’ was, but there was something about her that was hot, that she knew. Otis seemed to think she could help and she seemed overly eager (she tried not to be annoyed by this) and Inge was pragmatic enough to not opt for an argument in a situation like this. “My friend. Fine. You can help.”

With that, she started walking, attempting to walk as straight as possible, to not show the limp she’d gained since the factory. Her eyes were focused on her phone and Inge wished it was dark so she could travel through another plane of existence instead of figuring out the way over small forest paths that didn’t agree with her slippery shoes. She looked at ‘Magma’, wondered how far she could trust her. Probably farther than she could throw her, but she didn’t want to spare itt o her. “What is it you can do? Is it magic? Doesn’t matter. She’s cold, my friend. She’s … Lamia.” She’d figure it out when they came across her anyway. “I don’t know what happened. But she’s hypothermic, like Otis said.” 

As they neared the red pin on her phone’s map, Inge pushed through her pain and upped her pace, leaves sticking to her heels as she stepped off the path and into the thick of it. She didn’t care much about the branches that got stuck in her hair, just kept her eyes sharp for the familiar shape of Anita. When she reached her, she crouched down, face pulled in an expression she blamed on the sear of pain in her abdomen. “I brought reinforcements. Okay? Gonna get you out of here.”

—-

Admittedly, when Inge came to Otis, banging on his door, a fresh new flavor of fear flowing off her in droves, the bear didn't expect a snake to be the victim (or snictim, he supposed) in need of rescuing. A big snake, but a snake all the same. Enough people were scared of the slinky noodlers that Otis probably could have made several meals just being a wildlife photographer, though, he weren't terribly sure how well that'd work or what the rules to his special dietary restrictions were. 

Didn't matter that much though, this… very very large snake clearly meant a lot to Inge, so who was Otis to judge, really? He'd already resisted the urge to ‘woah’ upon seeing her. Best just to keep up the polite play and help a critter out. The firefighter had brought a trauma blanket, as well as a small kit (that was much more suited to a human, but the basics would likely work the same.) He was far too focused on the job at hand to figure out what the other two were jawing about. Magic? Well, no the superhero might've looked magical, but it had to be some fancy science, right? Something else Otis wouldn't really understand much of. But magic didn't exist. 

“Right miss… snake. I'm gonna pick you up now, just gonna ask real nice of you not to bite me, kay?” Otis got to work, gathering the majority of the snake up into his arms before turning towards the other two. “This… changes up the tactic a little. Gonna need somewhere we can warm her up slowly and consistently. Not too much all at once.” 

—-

Cass listened as Inge provided more details. Her friend was a lamia — something Cass only knew about thanks to Anita, and Metzli’s cohabitation with her. She thought about the woman now, about whether or not she should call her for advice on this whole thing, but that would totally ruin her reputation. Besides, it seemed simple enough — Inge’s friend was cold, and Cass was hot. The math was pretty easy to do, even for someone who’d never seen the inside of a classroom.

She trailed along behind Inge and Otis as they made their way through the woods, wondering just how Inge’s friend had been hurt to begin with. Had it been an accident? Or was there something more sinister at play? Cass’s mind went, the way it so often did, to that hand around her throat. Her hand came up the gently touch her neck as if she could still feel it there, and she walked with a bit more determination. Closer and closer to where Inge was leading them, until - 

“Anita?” She recognized the form on the ground instantly. From the cave when Luci was fixing the goo situation, from the crypt with Metzli’s sire. She’d always thought Anita’s snake form was beautiful, but right now, with it so still and so quiet, Cass felt an overwhelming amount of panic. She rushed over to the snake’s side, only to falter when Otis got there first. He was speaking, and he seemed to know what he was talking about, so Cass listened. She nodded, eyes never leaving Anita. “Tell me what I need to do, and I’ll do it. Just — She can’t die. Okay? She can’t.” 

—

Anita could feel the stiffness of her body growing more intense and it made everything, including and especially staying awake feel all the more impossible. Even in her weakened state her hearing hadn’t failed her and it didn’t take long until she began to hear the soft crunch of footsteps making their way towards her. The sounds, those gentle vibrations that ran through the forest floor, felt more real than anything her eyes had seen in the past several hours. So when she saw Inge crouched beside her again Anita decided to believe what she was seeing, too. 

There was a stranger present as well. A man she didn’t recognize by sight, smell, or sound. He had a soothing tone to the way he spoke, though. If Anita were more present in her own body she would have really enjoyed being called Miss. Snake. There was no power left in her to tell him she wouldn’t bit him… let alone enough energy to actually bite anything. And then she saw Cass and it all started to feel like the scene at the end of the Wizard of Oz - and you were there, and you were there… 

The guy who was lifting her up seemed to have a plan that involved getting Anita warm and there was a soft sense of relief that rushed over her. That mixed with the looks of such genuine concern that were evident on both Inge and Cass’ faces began to feel overwhelming. Her eyes drifted from Inge, to the man carrying her, then over to Cass and she was almost glad that she was in such a catatonic state at the moment so she did not have to actually grapple with the reality of the emotions that were brewing inside of her. 

Too tired to speak, Anita let out a soft and slow “Hsssssss,” something she hoped would translate into her appreciation. She wasn’t out of the cold yet, literally, but she no longer felt she was destined to rot away out here in the Pines. 

_

So ‘Magma’ knew who Anita was. Inge figured that to be a good thing considering that seemed to mean she cared about the other. Otis, though he seemed quite out of his depth, also shot into action at the sight of the snake. Maybe she should have told him about the other woman being a shapeshifter, but she had just assumed he’d know about these things the same way she knew about plenty of things. Again, this wasn’t her forte. But she seemed to have delegated quite well.

She kept her eyes glued to Anita, taking a small step back to let the others take charge. Her eyes flicked between the two other party members, landed on ‘Magma’. “She won’t.” Her answer was resolute, because that’s how Inge felt. She thought of reptiles lying on warm stones, under warm lights or even the sun. “You – what you did, the other night. You can make yourself warm. Do that. Not as hot as then, but warm. Can you do that?”

She moved to stand next to Otis and Anita, leaving plenty of room for ‘Magma’ to warm the lamia’s body. She remembered the touch of Dīs when she’d been found, how welcome it had been after that stretch of unending pain. Her fingers reached for Anita’s, weaving with hers and giving a small squeeze. “Give a squeeze if it’s too hot?” She looked at lava girl, wished her eyes still glowed their demanding red but the forest was no longer as dark as it had been. “Can you walk with her to the car, Otis, as —” She refused to call her Magma, so just looked at her, “— you try and give her some gradual warmth?”

—

Otis nodded. His part was easy, for what it was worth. The massive snake coiled in his arms, reminding him of the time his moms had brought him to an animal education center. They were there picking up some supplies, but the lady that was running it allowed the young bear to hold an anaconda. The scales felt different, the whole snake felt different, but maybe that's just cause this had to be a northern snake. Things got bigger in the cold, right? Something about having to preserve energy cause it got way too chilly up here. Sounded right enough. Otis didn't really know much about biology, much less about things that didn't live on the ranch. 

His mama used to say that Otis’ bear must have been built for the north. Maybe that's why he picked this place out of anywhere to settle and get research done. All the frozen weather had made him was sleepy, though. And thankful for the cluster of days he always had off. 

The trip back to the truck was a little harder than the trek in. The trauma blanket looked like a foil tarp over the world's largest lumpy burrito. Probably clocking in at almost half a ton, but it was rude to ask a lady her weight, and it wasn't like the snake was going to answer. No, Otis just had to guesstimate by the ache in his shoulders by the time they'd hiked back a mile to the road. He was strong, but not necessarily built for endurance. The sight of the little blue pickup was a welcome one, that's for sure. 

“Ain't enough room in the cab, but if you can do yer… hero stuff in the bed, I can start drivin’ us somewhere safer. Miss Inge, where are we headin’?” 

—

Inge considered the question. Did she care more about letting a known thief into her house and risking getting her shit stolen or did she care more about helping Anita? The latter it was, an easy decision in the end. “My house. I’ll give directions.” Considering he didn’t have a navigation system. And she was the boomer. “It’s in Deersprings, so not too far.”

—

Anita hissed, and Cass wasn’t sure if it was a bad thing or a good one that she sounded more snake than human right now. (Probably bad, right? Everything seemed bad when she was like this, everything.) Cass found herself distracted as she stared at Anita’s scales, almost missing Inge’s words. Luckily, she snapped back to herself pretty quickly, nodding her head. “I can get warm,” she confirmed. Focusing on her hand, she pulled some of the magma away from the limb so that it was warm instead of hot and rested it in the center of Anita’s scaly chest.

It was a little hard, walking with Otis with her hand in place while also concentrating on keeping it the right temperature. It was a little bit like patting your head and rubbing your stomach at the same time; signals got a little crossed and, if you weren’t careful, you’d get the two mixed up. Cass was careful, though. She wasn’t going to mess this up, wasn’t going to risk making things worse for Anita. Still, it was a relief when they got back to the truck. Cass had never been so happy to see a vehicle in her life. 

“I can sit in the back,” she agreed with an eager nod. “I’ll warm her up. You just focus on getting us somewhere safe, okay?”

—

The first rush of warmth that extended out from Cass’ hands felt like a shock to Anita’s system. It wasn’t that the temperature was too hot necessarily, but it was just such a contrast to how deeply chilled her body had gotten. Then she felt the cool grasp of a hand in her own, which provided a similar comfort to the heat radiating around her now. The relief was not instantaneous but gradual, wavering slightly as the unlikely group trekked out of the woods and towards a questionable looking pick-up truck. It was apparent that she was beginning to feel at least slightly more okay given that the first thought that crossed her mind was whether or not that was the only means of transportation available to them. Evidently, as she got gently loaded into the bed of the truck, it was. 

Even though she had never gotten this cold before there was some instinctual part of Anita that knew a few minutes of heat was not going to be enough to really shake her out of this state that she was in. If it had been, she would have told everyone that her house was undoubtedly closer than Inge’s and equipped with a room full of heat lamps. Cass was generating more heat than her lamps could really even dream of, though, and Anita didn’t hate the idea of going somewhere where she wouldn’t be alone. 

As the truck drove along the back roads of Wicked’s Rest, undoubtedly a startling sight for anyone who may have been awake and spotted her in the back, Anita started to feel like she could move herself ever so slightly.  “Thank you,” she said softly to Cass, feeling a mix of gratefulness and embarrassment at the circumstances. It wouldn’t be long until they were at Inge’s place and truly out from the cold. 

_ 

She got back into the driver’s seat, stuffing her phone in her coat pocket as she got ready to give Otis directions when needed. She flipped down the sun visor and glanced at Anita and ‘Magma’ in the van’s bed. Her legs spread as far as they could, her body protesting against the walking she’d done but something in Inge feeling relieved all the same. In her mind’s eye she saw Sanne’s neck and the axe that undone her head from there, thought of other undead she’d lost over the years. 

Anita would be alright and that was enough for now. No room for the rage, the fear, the concern. Just the process of getting her to her house. She took her eyes off the thief and her friend, glanced at Otis. “You’re going to have to turn right up ahead, and then a left immediately.” 

Her eyes switched from Otis to the view at the back of the car to the road and eventually she said, “Thanks. For coming without question. For — carrying her.” He could have thrown the door in her face, considering the sleuthing she’d done, the intrusive way she’d dug into his life and dangled his hidden truth into his face. It said something in favor of his character, something she’d usually think of as below her. How could she do that now, though? When both the bugbear and the lava girl had jumped at the chance to help, despite her own conflicts with them? Inge wasn’t sure how she felt about it. 

But this too paled in comparison with the mission still at hand. So she kept pointing Otis into the direction of her house until they’d reached it, rushing out the car to check in on ‘Magma’ and Anita. “I’ll open the door. It’s just up there, third floor, there’s an elevator.”

—

Otis followed directions well. Part of being a firefighter. You had someone behind the wheel, and someone navigating the fastest way to wherever you needed to be. Whenever you needed to be there. That’s just what this was, wasn’t it? Inge had turned to him, thanked him like there ever was a question. He just nodded. Words escaping him now that he was on a mission. Still on a mission. Before was… direction. He had to speak because he had to take charge. He wasn’t a man of many words, at least not in person. Wasn’t as easy to get tongue tied behind the mic. But here? In the cab of his car with a creature in need in the back it didn’t matter that she wasn’t human, Otis thought, only that she had so many people who cared so deeply for her. 

Once again, the snake was in the bear’s arms. Coiled up and under a blanket, but he could tell she felt warmer. Good. Whatever Magma had in that fancy suit was powerful. Did a damn good job. Made Otis wish they had those down at the station. Maybe he’d ask her about it later. Ah, but, he had said he’d only use the number for emergencies. Right? He wasn’t too sure where the line fell. 

He followed directions again, this time leading the small group into the home that was also pretty damn cold. Otis settled the large snake where told, and stood rather awkwardly after. This was the part that the EMTs usually left. The part where he usually left. Was he supposed to leave now? His job was done. 

“Right. So.” His eyes flicked between the three ladies of the house and– was that an arm? Nah, just another trick of his imagination, right? Otis nodded again. “Call me if you need anythin’ yeah?” And with that, he turned. 

— 

Anita spoke, and it was the best thing Cass had ever said. The thanks washed over her and, for once, there was no hesitation in the way she released it. “You don’t have to thank me,” she said quietly, stroking Anita’s head absently. “Just be okay. I just need you to be okay.” With everything that had been going on lately, she didn’t think she could have handled losing Anita, too, even if they didn’t know one another as well as Cass might have liked. She wouldn’t want that for Metzli, or for Anita, either. Anita was always willing to help where Metzli was concerned; Cass liked to think the lamia would do the same for her, too. 

Eventually, they arrived at what must have been Inge’s house. Cass wondered if she should have told Otis to take them to Anita’s house instead, but… maybe this was better. She could text Metzli, let them know what was going on, and Anita could choose how much to share with them after the fact. After the way the night had gone, Cass thought that Anita deserved some choice in the matter of how it concluded.

Cass hovered as Otis lifted Anita from the truck, keeping a hand on her at all times to continue the warming process. She followed, worry practically pouring from her as they took Anita to rest her where Inge had indicated. Cass plopped down close to the lamia, wrapping a warmed arm around her.

Turning to Otis, she offered him a smile. “It was really good of you to help,” she said. Hesitantly, she added, “Thank you.” She could owe Otis a favor; there were far worse people to be indebted to. Glancing to Inge, she chewed her lip carefully. “I want to stay to help her warm up more. If that’s okay? I want to make sure she’s all right. I’m friends with her roommate — they’re probably really worried.”

—

There was such a subtle intimacy in the way Cass spoke and warmed up the lamia. Anita had developed a great fondness for her but would have never thought that the sentiment was mutual, or would result in such compassion and care. She understood why Metzli seemed to consider her to be family. She understood why having someone to care for you felt so good. 

The truck pulled into the driveway that Anita had driven into more than a few times herself, and even though everything still ached, there was an undoubtable relief that fell over her. She was warming, slowly, but enough that the dread of death had begun to fade and was steadily being replaced by the dread of embarrassment. Embarrassed that she had gotten herself in this predicament to begin with, embarrassed she needed to be rescued, and dreading the conversations she expected to need to have once she was back to being herself again. 

Once again she found herself being transported by the tall, strong stranger up into the house. Nearly as soon as he placed her down, he was turning to leave before Anita could even express any gratitude. For now, all she had left to do was get her strength back. All she had to do was let these two people who had grown to be important parts of her life help her. It was an uneasy feeling but it was far better than the alternative - a circumstance she never wanted to find herself in again.

[honey-lemonz]

From Wattpad..

Xmale Reader

3rd Pov

Warning includes sexual content

Includes: dumbification, master kink if you see it rough sex, degradation, barley a praise kink, female form Muzan, squirt, getting eaten out over stimulation

Muzan will still go by He/him

Requested by:maskstudioart

Thank you for the request!

Muzan didn't ever think he would dub down this far. He would every single day, change his form to his more feminine body and go flirt with a demon archer.

The demon knew it was Muzan the progenitor and knew if he did something wrong he would die but...

Muzan had an obsession.

He overly loved the feeling of climax in a female form, it was so different than a males.

You could say he was a virgin with this meaning he was inexperienced but God's did he fucking love to finger himself.

He just wished a certain archer would make him feel the climax himself.  Muzan couldn't lie, he was a strong demon, very useful as well, very strong too. Good enough to be a spot for the twelve kizuki. Not a lower moon of course most likely and upper rank.

But for some odd reason he didn't want him as a servant.

He wanted him as a lover. And he knew love needed to be two sided otherwise it wouldn't work.

So how do you make a lust full demon king make another demon who is a devoted archer and is devoted to his sport and possibly not interested in him or fears him?

Gifts and buy lots of them, bribing.

Muzan wore his most fancy kimono and tied his hair into his bun and made Daki put the pins in. He wore a signature floral style which is famous muromachi period which it the century the archer if from.

He put on a red lip and was out the infinity fortress and walked to the archery park filled with cherry blossoms and bamboo gates. No human knew of the hidden places.

Muzan glared at the other demons to open the gate and strolled on in, he felt like a school girl who had a crush on her upper class men. Except he is older and stronger.

The archer was practicing with their bow and was in total focus. He could sense Muzan and smiled vividly that his lord could see him.

"Hello, Muzan-sama. How are you tonight under this moon." His voice made the king's pussy clench on nothing. He bit his lip and walked closer. A pale and touched the grey-ish skin of the archer. Veins throbbing on muscle.

Muzan traced them and hummed, his voice not menacing but suggestive.

"I am well, my archer..My search for the blue spider lilly is going unsuccessful but I grant time will tell. Now, how is my dear, archer. Have any whores here?"

Muzan is a jealous and petty thing. He knew the archer can have whores here and there. Daki has spoken about it. She even said his physical domination is almost more tempting and frightful than Kokushibou. (sexy ass man koku)

The archer inhaled before letting the string of the bow go. "What of it my lord?" Normally Muzan would be angered of the question but he, he made it sound like a challenge.

"Well, I came here to see my beloved and most favorite archer...I didn't come to see if he is fucking another whore. I thought warriors like you were supposed to be poised."

The archer's fist clenched, snapping the bow in half. Muzan let out almost a moan at the sight of his strength.

"Yes my lord. I am poised, who ever told you of these lies must want to anger you. I haven't had a woman nor man at my side since the Sengoku."(making the archer older than Koku)

Muzan gazed at his split eyes, cat like with the gold color shining through. He wasn't lying, so either Daki was or whoever told Daki lied. Either way Muzan will deal with it later.

"So, my archer if to say you did have a whore what would she be? What would she looked like? Would she be rich? Poor?"

Muzan stepped behind him and pressed his womanly breast against his stern and muscular back. A thing kimono separated the skin to skin contact. The archer prepared his stance again. He inhaled and held the strong and tight bow. He pulled his back to his cheek.

"She, or he would have to learn how to speak of what they want." Muzan hummed and wrapped his hands around his waist from behind. Moving his hands up and down slowly, taunting him. His nails circling around his peck and the faint lines of his abdomen.

"What about her mouth? Should she speak like a whore or more of a queen? Or do you want to shut her up yourself..."

Muzan's hand dipped down to the hakama pants, the white fabric holding and slowly untying them. "Or do you want her to do all the work, my archer.."

His other hand curled around the arm that was holding the arrow. Holding onto his bicep. Leaning up to whisper into his ear.

"Tell me my archer..what kind of whore do you want me to be for you?"

(M/n) sighed and rested his arms and set the bow down. He sighed and let his head fall down to look at the ground. The sweat off his body made it shine slightly underneath the moon light. he looked so delicious, it made Muzan restless.

He wished he could see him during the sun or wake up beside him and just let him fuck the shit out of him or eat him out.

"Muzan-sama." The king in question hummed and smiled devilishly at his favored archer. "Yes (M/n)?" he answer as his long blue nail was tracing the outline of his cock.

"One thing."

He hummed again, he could read his mind and knew what he was going to say and it made him drip with slick.

"Whores that ask to many questions are just begging to be fucked." He dropped the bow and turned around the see Muzan. He smiled and blushed.

Muzan lifted his arms making him carry him. He didn't want to be in control he just wanted him to fuck him deep into the ground. His pussy was aching it.

Muzan was laying in his shoulder. If any demon saw him, they'd be killed.

They walked into the large estate, the house had been a gift from Muzan. He was so happy he decided to kill of the family here and give it to him.

He dropped Muzan on the engawa and stripped himself of his thin kimono but not the hakama pants. His chest that housed that baritone voice, a voice he wanted to her moan his name and name alone made the demon lord almost finger himself then.

"But since my king is here I believe it is best to pleasure him first than myself." He got onto his knees and stomach and rested on the wooden flooring. The white curtains only showed their shadows but neither cared.

He pushed the layers of cloth out of the way only to see no underwear or anything. A bare pink pussy dripping with cum.

"My lords pussy is dripping..did he plan for this? To be eaten out like a slut? How disgusting you pig." He breath fanned his clit. The anticipation was harsh but the impact was so enjoyus.

"Yes, I am your little slut, now please my archer eat me out like one." Muzan's head tilted back and spread his legs wider, his clit twitch waiting for the intense sensitivity to send it over and beyond.

"Yes, my master." His cool tongue circled his clit and spread his labia. Muzan moaned loudly and gripped the archers head. His attention to certain spots was so endearing and so careful.

"More, please! More my archer!"

His tongue dipped into his tight entrance and pushed deeper and deeper. His pointer and middle finger entrap his clit. His thumb circles it roughly. Muzan felt the blood from his teeth digging into his lips dip down onto the floral patterned kimono.

"Fu-fuck. More! Please my archer give me more!" He was arching his back and pushing his head deeper. (M/n) removed his tongue, Muzan missing the contact was about to yell at him to continue but his three fingers replaced the rage with more pleasure.

He moved his hand in and out at inhuman speed. He reached up to lick away the blood from his lords lips and bite them. His thumb moved harsher and harder. Wet and sloppy sounds filled the air.

All coming from the demon lord.

His hands gripped the arches forearm and dug into it, drawing blood with his nails. He was whining and moaning. The pressure built more and more. More lewd and rude comments were whispered into his ear.

"Who knew the demon king wanted to get fucked like a whore..so fucking wet for an archer. Was it your plan to have a good fuck? To act like a such a slut and pig. Your dripping all on my hand."

With the words Muzan's pussy gushed. He had never felt so disgusting but it felt so good to feel like a sloppy whore.

He panted and clenched on his hand.  But then Muzan felt another finger being added. (fisting) The pressure came back and made the demon lord fall back out of over stimulation. Begging and begging for more. His own hand playing with his clit and slapping it too.

His kimono was drenched by the second orgasm, he squirted father this time and more. The engawa was soaking with his delicious fluids. The blood on his lips were lapped away. (M/n) pulled his hand away and liked his digits clean of the others juices.

"So tasty my lord, you did such a good just squirting like a whore."He stood up and lifted his fucked out demon king to farther into the estate.

He rested Muzan on the futon. He stripped himself and then Muzan. His breast were round and plump, his nipples hard.

Kissing and biting them, also playing with his clit made him scream at over stimulation again.

"Pl-please, my archer..fuck me..fuck me until I cannot think.." He begged, his lipstick smudge covering his cheek, hair a mess and his bun not as perfect. The decorations were falling out. This obsession he had was growing and growing because of his dear archer.

"Yes my whore lord."

He untied the sash of the hakama and revealed his thick and long cock. Muzan felt like he was going to fucking squirt again.He pulled (M/n) down to kiss him and to force him and let their body's run against each other. His cock rubbing against his clit made him arch his back.

"Please, my archer just fuck me!"

The archer pushed no slammed himself into Muzan. Letting the demon lord get a taste of what he wanted.

But he pulled out and flipped the demon on his hands and knees. He pushed back in and growled as he clenched tightly around him. His chest pushing into Muzan's. Fucking like a wild animal.

His cock pushed pass his G-spot and made the demon lord cry out about how he is going to cum again. His mind as he fucked him wandered off. Just blank and white all he felt was his pussy gushing and squirting. His arousal dripping down his legs and (M/n)'s cock and balls.

He was drooling and crying, not even having proper speech. When the archer pulled out and showered his back and ass with cum, growling and grunting.

Muzan felt his whole body just become sore. He was the strongest demon but got fucked like the weakest.

"T-this i...is..w-whhy yo-your myy favorite..m-my archer..."

The archer chuckled and wiped the cum off Muzan and the liquids off himself. He waled away to grab a kimono for the demon king.

"You'll ma-make a great King.."

The demon king relished in the feeling of being pampered. He liked how much attention he was getting and how much care was put into it. He smiled as he was place into the warm pool of water and treated perfectly.

By the time the sun rose, the archer and him retired to their sleeping quarters and sleep in the large western style bed. Muzan cuddled close to (M/n). While he was a sleep, which proved he was a hard worker. Demons don't sleep unless anything they do is put with 100%.

Muzan pushed him nail into his temple and pumped his blood into him. The archer growled in pain but kept his eyes closed. Muzan's curse was still in affect but it would not be death just a sting.

"Yes, you would make a great King, my favorite archer.."

He fell a sleep too. His new demon king was going to be perfect, he knew it. 

That is why he was the favorite, he made his obsession grow day by day.

He was truly satisfied.

[antiquitiesandlabyrinths]

The Impact of Religion and the Mother Goddess on Human Culture

Notes: This essay is compiled from a number of sources ranging from books, university publications, youtube videos, and museum articles. This essay is also not just about Egypt, like the rest of this blog is––it concerns early civilizations ranging from Britains to Harappans.

+

As we all know, religion inhabits much of our daily life in modern times, and even more so in ancient times. The origins of our existence have been explained many times over with many different ideas––how these ideas are presented to the world and the common man influences the actions of the people and government who follow that religion.

The oldest religions in the world tend to worship a Mother Goddess––a feminine figure that represents the ability to create life which, for a while, was confined entirely to the efforts of women and the miracle of childbirth. We know very little about these people beyond what the archaeological record can tell, as there is no written language for pre-history hominids who created the first works of art; women, with full hips and breasts, carved into wood and stone. What we do know about them is that they had forms of empathy––healed femur bones from old, preserved skeletons reveal that people healed from grievous injuries that, in many other species, would mark death. Jaws, hunched in like the pursed lips of old men, were also found without their teeth, but still living to an impressive age of around 80. Someone had to physically chew this person's food, and they did, for what could've been decades. This shows that same pattern; a tribe that fed, clothed, and took care of someone who otherwise would not have survived on their own.

All of this points not only to intelligence in early hominids, but also a form of empathy that some people even today lack in our society––a society that doesn't worship a Mother Goddess, whose origins in humanity are entirely different from the beliefs of the first humans.

The Sumerian civilization is among the oldest, including the four civilizations birthed in cradles of humanity––the Harappan civilization along the Indus Valley river, Mesopotamian culture along the Euphrates––or the fertile crescent––, as well as Egypt along the Nile and the rivers in China. This topic of Sumerian religion, the changes it went through, and the effect that had on its' people, are discussed in great detail in the book 'The Alphabet Versus the Goddess' by Leonard Shlain, but I will attempt to summarize the religious history of Sumeria and Mesopotamia.

When the first towns and cities began to prop up around the Euphrates and Tigris rivers, the people who lived there worshipped a wide pantheon of Gods like many of the other first civilizations. Their creation myth involves the work of a primeval mother Goddess named Namma, who created humanity. These people who lived under this creation myth, this belief that they were created out of nothing and out of love, allowed for times of relative peace, as well as a rapid growth in art, structure, and other such refinements of city life. Later on, however, this idea was obstructed by a rising Babylonian culture coming into the fertile crescent. These people believed in a much more gruesome birth of humanity, and is a strikingly, and horrifying, difference from the myths of early Sumerians.

The Babylonian creation myth was written or told as a way of confirming Marduk as the main God of the world. This story is called Enuma Elish, and acted as a way to legitimize Marduk replacing Enlil, the previous God King. The telling of it occurred during the Kassite inhabitation of Babylon.

Tiamat, the Goddess of the Sea (salty water) mated with her husband Apsu, a God who represented fresh water. From this several Gods emerged in couplets. Most were boisterous and loud, as young children are, producing so much noise that Apsu was incensed to destroy them. He was stopped soon by his wife, Tiamat, who urged him to exhibit more patience; a request he did not heed. Their sons soon heard of this danger and, in fear of death, called upon the god Ea to help them. Ea was an incredibly resourceful God, and put the angered Apsu to sleep with a spell. They killed the sleeping God and stole his vizier, Mummu. After this, Ea birthed his own child with his consort, Damkina. This is the origin of Marduk.

Marduk was the tallest and the mightiest of all the Gods, who held power to control the four winds, a power given by the God Anu. Anu told him to let the winds whirl; it created a storm that picked up dust from the earth, the winds roaring loud enough to antagonize the usually patient Tiamat. Other Gods faced this same irritation and urged Tiamat to take action––to slay down the God, Marduk.

Another telling of this story has a slightly different timeline, that tells a significantly different story––instead of Ea and lesser Gods killing Apsu, Apsu is killed by Marduk, which directs Tiamat's anger more reasonably to Marduk.

When she comes to face Marduk on the battlefield, she has with her eleven monsters created by the Mother Goddess for this quest. While Ea tries to find a way to end this confrontation with magic spells, he is eventually told that it isn't exactly possible, and thus Marduk puts forth an offer that the other Gods take. He will face the Goddess Tiamat, and if he should win, he would be the King of all Gods. This battle is long and difficult, but eventually Marduk does win in a horrifying way. He blows massive gusts of wind down Tiamat's mouth, swelling her stomach and abdomen so massively she appears to be a woman in the final stages of pregnancy. While she is thoroughly and painfully stretched with Marduk's wind, he slays her with an arrow down her gullet, killing a woman who had the image of the feminine creation of life, an ending violently estranged from the myth of a mother Goddess creating things by her own magic, and not the death of others.

Once Tiamat is slain, her corpse is large, and Marduk puts it to use. He stretches her skin out to become the sky. Her pierced eyes, heavy with tears, are the origins of the Euphrates and the Tigris, flooded with her crying. Her tail is made into the Milky Way. Her split head, torn by the heavy club of Marduk, is used to make the mountains, and her body created the earth. He pricked her breasts in many places for the tributaries of the rivers. From her blood Marduk creates humans in a disturbingly dark way, a stark difference––humans made by magic, versus humans made by the murder of a Goddess mirroring the image of a pregnant woman.

As God-King, Marduk received complaints from lesser Gods that they had to toil on the earth themselves to create their own tributes, taken care of by worshippers. To remedy this, Marduk decides to create humans. He singled out Tiamat's favorite son, Kingu, who ruled with her after her husband's death, and accused him of instigating Tiamat's rage. He placed all blame on this one God, freeing everyone else of the blame but Kingu. Marduk then ordered his father, Ea, to knead the flesh and blood of Kingu's executed form, this sacrifice, molding it like clay in his hands. After the images of many humans were created, Marduk sentenced them to toil on Tiamat's corpse for all their lives in order to create offerings and worship for the Gods.

This violent origin creates a culture indebted to its' gods, forever attempting to repent from the sins of their past, the gruesomeness of their creation, to make up for Kingu's sacrifice. Compared to the simple origins of the mother Goddess Nammu, the people who worshipped her in Sumer didn't have this responsibility––they were created of love. But Babylonians lived forever attempting to make up for their own creations, a theme that is reflected clearly in Christianity. A savior, and worshippers forever trying to repent for their own existence.

This story also reflects the growth of monetary gain in a society. For example, the Indus Valley civilization on the Indus river had no such array of Gods that required tributes so often like that. It is hard to say what exactly the people of Harappa and Mohenjo-Daro truly believed in, as we have yet to decipher their written language, but archaeological evidence shows no presence of temples for Gods in any of the cities. Instead, the cities are laid out in a straight, clearly preplanned manner that allowed wind to channel through the streets like air conditioning. There were no ways for these city-states to hold immense power over the people, as there was no reason that would excuse the abuse put upon lower-class citizens; there were no violent 'Gods' to which such offerings were necessary, meaning the class system most likely worked in a very different way to that of Babylonia, who had massive temples. The creation and building of these temples fuelled the Mesopotamian economy greatly, as money that was collected in taxes was actually put to use, not stored up and saved like what can happen in a capitalistic society. It's the difference between a city built for its' people or a city built for its' gods, and, in extension, the god-Kings that ruled on earth. Something interesting to note as well, is that the Indus Valley civilization didn't have any weapons or mass wars––as far as we know––in its' history from 5,000 BC to 1500 BC. There could be other reasons for this, but I believe it may have something to do with the feminine cult religion and the absence of temples.

There is a similar theme in Egyptian culture, surprisingly. Egypt is known as an ancient civilization that had forward-thinking rights for women and men, including divorce proceedings and the ability to hold a job and property. Like Sumer, its original creation myth dealt mainly with the creative, coming-together of powerful forces; this time two women, something that very rarely happens in religion. There are no male Gods that inspire or order the two Goddesses––they act alone, and of their own volition. This tale is one of the oldest creation myths we've found yet in Egypt, dating all the way back to the Early Dynastic Period of the Old Kingdom.

Nekhbet was the Goddess of Upper Egypt, a vulture Goddess (whose imagery and meaning we will discuss later). Wadjet was the serpent Goddess of Lower Egypt. These two Goddesses were primordial deities, existing before the creation of earth. They emerged from the waters of chaos, which was thought to be all that the world was back then, bringing with them land and air, and eventually the loving creations of humans. Like cobras that twist around each other into a double helix, the Egyptians were intrinsically entwined with the Nile, an image that is reflected even in modern times, with the symbol of two entwined snakes being the symbol for healing, often displayed in hospitals, and the formation of DNA in its ladder-like structure.

It may seem a little strange that the two Goddesses who created the earth––in this Divine Feminine mythology––are represented by a cobra and a vulture, but in Egyptian society, that was simply what they were.

In hieroglyphics, vultures denote a woman. They are in the spelling of mother, of daughter, of wife, and of Goddesses. In fact, the word mother is written the exact same way as vulture. These birds appeared to have foresight to the Egyptians as well––they circled their prey before a meal was assured, remarking a sort of prophecy. They also denoted a divine manifestation of death, an important trait to share with the goddess Nekhbet, who carried exceptional power.

The snake was also a feminine symbol, though strangely explained by the Egyptians, whose ideas on life differ greatly from the modern, more monotheistic view (Christianity, Islam, and Judaism). The sinuous like movements of its' 'step' mimicked the swaying of a woman's hips in a dance, evocative and nubile, and her movements in the throes of passion mimicked a similar serpentine state. Snakes resembled the meandering shapes of rivers, the roots of trees and plants, and the umbilical cord of mammalians. They live deep within the earth, making their home within the Great Mother, and they appeared to live forever, shedding their skin whenever renewal was required. This specifically was a trait revered by Egyptians, who had a great love and zest for life, and wished to live forever. Renewal connected snakes to the Nile's inundation and the sun's revival every morning after its' death the night before. Hieroglyphs come into play with snakes, as well––the hieroglyphs for serpent are the same as the hieroglyphs for Goddess.

It can be difficult to say how exactly this myth was thought of during the Old Kingdom. This is an incredibly old myth, and by the time writing started to really take hold of the country, the myth was replaced with a new, more masculine one. While it wasn't as violent as the Babylonian creation myth, it contained an incredible amount of masculine energy. Female goddesses faded from the light as a particular two Gods shot up in popularity––Amun and Ra, or Amun-Re (there are many different spellings, including Atum, Re, Aten, etc.).

There is an incredibly theory put forth in the previously mentioned book "The Alphabet Versus the Goddess" that inspired me to truly think about the connection between religion and society, as well as the impact of writing on the ideas of feminine and masculine energies within that society. Leonard Shlain, the author of the book, posits that "... any written method of communication skews society toward masculine vales."

The new, masculine myth that took the place of the Goddesses Nekhbet and Wadjet was a little more simple––Atum stood on a mound of earth, surrounded by the primordial sea. Atum masturbated, and from his seed sprouted the Ennead––nine deities making up a family of powerful Gods and Goddesses. This story was found to have its origins nearly 1500 years after the myth of Nekhbet and Wadjet.

So how did this change in mythology reflect in society?

Again, it is hard to say. In the Old Kingdom, Pharaohs tended to their people, and their was a feudal-type system ruled by an all-powerful King. Art flourished in the time, and even today many people claim that the art of Egypt peaked in the Old/Middle Kingdom and fizzled out during the New Kingdom. Another notable change is after the invasion of the Hyksos––and an occupation that lasted only a little over a century, one that was despised heavily––Egypt began to take on a new sort of mindset. Pharaohs now went out beyond the borders of Egypt, even up into Canaan and completing quests of great magnitude, erecting monuments in honor of their victory. Such behavior is found more in violent, masculine-powered societies than anywhere else.

Viking and Medieval UK faced this same problem––women were hardly considered people during this age, unable to own their own land or divorce. This was a masculine honoring society, praising the violence of colonizing and shunning empathy. There was a need within the people to 'spread their greatness' to others, but in reality, the greatness was nothing more than violence; a theme also seen in the Avatar: The Last Airbender, as the Fire nation brainwashed its' child citizens to believe the Fire Nation had a right to the rest of the world. I'm afraid I have little else to say on the topic of Europe because that is not my area of study, but the similarities are easy to draw.

Our society today is, despite our best efforts, a masculine-drawn society. Our God is chiefly referred to as 'He' and representation in our media for women is scant beyond superficial characters, as men, who rule most of the business in the world, can have trouble seeing women as something more than a pretty, talking toy. This, of course, isn't universal, but it is incredibly common and would be more so if women weren't trying to make a stand. Like Babylonians, Christians are born with innate guilt, attempting to make up and repent for the sacrifice of their savior, another masculine form of a deity. Like Atum-worshipping Egyptians, our world was created alone at the hands of an all powerful male God.

But, unlike Sumerians, we never had a Mother Goddess. Unlike the earliest myths of Egypt, the world was not birthed at the hands of a fertile woman. And, unlike early Egypt, we are not happy. Our 'life after death' is somewhere unlike Earth, somewhere that is perfect, unlike earth. But for Egyptians? Life after death was earth, just another form of it, and life in that afterlife was just the same as life during life. Whether or not that has anything to do with our method of governing, our economy, or our massive differences in religion––there is no evidence. It is a simple outlook on life that is only translated in holy texts and the remains of dead people, and dead people very rarely talk.

Like most things, religion isn't contained to a Sunday every week or to Muslim prayer mats every day––such things spread into our food, our way of life, our infrastructure, how we respect and treat each other, and how we treat the Earth. I believe it is important to remember that the oldest Gods are things seen every day––the water, the earth, the sky, the sun, and the stars. These are what influenced the first humans, the first beings to care for one another in old age, to heal what was thought to be forever broken, and to take up the mantle of kindness for each other without the threat of a violent God condemning them. Many modern people base their ethics on the threat of punishment from God(s), in which case we can all learn from atheists, who continue to do good without threat, simply because they believe it is right to help others, just as our ancestors did.

[cheemerthelizard]

Crusader of Life 2: Chapter 10

Jotaro had called Kakyoin over to help him give the news to Josuke that his father, Joseph Joestar, was going all the way to Morioh to help them with the Stand user crisis. Of course, Red Hot Chili Pepper still has a couple of tricks up his sleeve, and one of them is sure to work.

Walking on Sunshine was carefully watching over her sleeping user. She felt awful, since she was the reason Emily was like this, and she wanted to do everything in her power to make her feel better.

“Sunshine?” Kakyoin gently opened the door, holding a glass of water. “Here. Drink this. It’s important Emily drinks water, and whatever you do will affect her, as well. If you drink it, Emily can stay hydrated without having to wake up.”

“Okay,” Sunshine said, taking the water and drinking some of it.

“Now, I’m going to be away for a few hours. Mommy will still be here, though. Take care of Emily while I’m gone, okay?”

“Okay,” Sunshine nodded.

“I love you.”

“Love you, too.”

As Kakyoin closed the door again, Walking on Sunshine went back to caring for Emily. She was doing better, now that it had been about a week, but was still slightly feverish and more tired than usual. She could do things around the town, though, so that was good, but not for long before she was drained of energy. She was still not allowed to activate Sunshine’s power.

Emily started slowly opening her eyes, allowing her Stand to leave its manifested form. The memory of her dad hugging Sunshine and saying goodbye was made her own, so she knew where he was.

“Hey, kid.”

Emily turned to the sound of an unknown voice. There, she saw a bird-like thing emerging from an electric socket. It looked like it was made of electricity, too, with its yellow sparks all around its body.

“Hey,” it said again. “I can cure your sickness, you know. Just let me see your hands.”

“Mommy said not to talk to strangers,” Emily told it, backing away.

“I’m not a stranger, your mom knows me. That’s why I’m in your hotel room.”

“Let me ask her.”

“No, no, she’s busy right now!” the bird thing exclaimed, then quickly regained composure. “You don’t want to interrupt her, do you?”

If Red Hot Chili Pepper could take out the child, the most gullible of them all, then her parents would be stricken with grief, and might actually take his threats seriously. All he needed to do was get that little girl close enough to him, and take her into the power lines where she could be burned to a crisp.

“Okay,” Emily agreed. She slowly approached the bird thing, outstretching her hand. Closer. Closer…

“Emily, no! Get away from him!” Lily shouted. When did she open the door? “He’s dangerous!”

If Chili Pepper was going to act, it had to be now. He grabbed Emily’s hand, and pulled the rest of her body close to his.

“Mommy!” Emily cried. “Help me!”

Before Lily had time to reach him, Chili Pepper dived back into the power socket. Little Emily was screaming in pain. He had no time to stick around to see Lily’s reaction, though. After all, Okuyasu was going to be leaving soon. He had to make it to the bike’s battery. Once he could get there, everything would fall into place.

***

“Jotaro!” Kakyoin called. He ran to catch up to his old friend.

“I can’t believe that old geezer is still trying to travel at his age,” Jotaro grumbled. “I only came here in his place, and now he’s coming anyway.”

“He probably wants to see his son for the first time,” Kakyoin said. “Plus, this search for Chili Pepper’s user has gone on long enough. Hermit Purple will definitely help us find him.”

“I guess you’re right. How’s Emily been?”

“She’s steadily getting better. She should be completely fine by the time we leave.”

“That’s good.”

“Anyway, how do you think Josuke will take the news? You know, the fact that his dad is coming all the way down here, and he’ll finally get to meet him?”

“I’m hoping he takes it well.”

“Josuke! Why didn’t you tell me that he appeared? You know how I feel about Red Hot Chili Pepper!” Okuyasu yelled.

“Looks like they’ve already arrived,” Kakyoin observed.

“I asked him not to say anything,” Jotaro answered Okuyasu’s question. “Chili Pepper has been hiding in the power lines, and if we were to say anything, he might have been able to hear us.”

Meanwhile, hiding in Okuyasu’s bike battery, Chili Pepper was hearing everything. He heard Kakyoin’s voice, which meant his plan could play out, he heard about how they figured out that he was spying on them, which Josuke already knew, but most importantly, he heard about an old geezer who had the ability to find out who he was. Even better, it sounded like it was Josuke’s father.

“That’s why I asked all of you to come out here instead of discussing it in the city,” Jotaro told the three of them. “So that Chili Pepper couldn’t hear us.”

“Oh, I’ve heard quite enough,” Chili Pepper emerged from Okuyasu’s bike, holding a dead girl in his arms.

“He heard the whole thing?” Kakyoin exclaimed.

“I sure did,” Chili Pepper chuckled. “Oh, and Kakyoin, I think this belongs to you.” He tossed the girl’s body to Kakyoin, revealing a face the man knew all too well.

“Emily!” Kakyoin’s heart shattered in that moment. His daughter’s body was charred from electricity, with a face that matched the agony she must have been through. His knees buckled from beneath him, leaving him kneeling on the ground, sobbing into the burnt shirt that Emily died in.

Jotaro couldn’t imagine what that must have been like. Even if he hadn’t seen her that often, if his own daughter were to die such a horrific death, he would never forgive himself for what happened. He watched as his friend continued crying, taking in some of the extra sadness that just wouldn’t fit in Kakyoin’s body.

However, he was not prepared for that immense grief to be suddenly replaced with a burning rage. Any ounce of sadness that was left was replaced with anger. Pure, raw anger.

“You…”

Hierophant’s strings started going wild, whipping around Kakyoin before finally shooting out to catch up with the runaway bike, along with Okuyasu.

“You’ll pay for what you did!”

Jotaro had been through a lot with Kakyoin. In that moment, he remembered everything that his friend had experienced: an intense headache in a burning sun, the sheer pain of being punched through the abdomen, even the brink of insanity telling him to kill a baby. But never, not once in his life, had he seen Kakyoin so enraged. Red Hot Chili Pepper made a grave mistake.

Kakyoin gently laid down his daughter’s dead body, then shot forward from Hierophant grabbing on to the bike. He slowly reeled himself in, and before Chili Pepper knew it, Kakyoin was standing right beside Okuyasu, his face carrying the same fiery expression.

“I’ll scrape you away!” Okuyasu exclaimed. He summoned The Hand, swiping down and taking a little bit of the world with it. Unfortunately, he wasn’t fast enough to take down Chili Pepper, who zipped away just in time.

“You think your hand is faster than me?” Chili Pepper cackled. “With that speed, you’ll never get anywhere close to me!”

“I wasn’t aiming for you,” Okuyasu scoffed. “I was aiming for the bike!”

Suddenly, the bike stopped rolling, and it pummeled into the ground, leaving Chili Pepper with nowhere to run, a dying power source, and two furious Stand users.

“I’ll hold him down, and you beat him to a pulp!” Kakyoin shouted as Hierophant’s strings wrapped around Chili Pepper.

“Kakyoin! Okuyasu!” Jotaro called. “Wait for us to get down there before you do anything rash!”

“Did you really think your Hierophant Green could stop me?” Chili Pepper chuckled. Suddenly, it let out a burst of electricity, making Hierophant instantly let go. Kakyoin had burn marks in various places, mostly in a striped pattern.

“Okuyasu, I know you want to kill me,” Chili Pepper smirked. “Why don’t you just take my life, here and now, so that you can finally get revenge for your brother?”

“There’s no need for my brother’s revenge,” Okuyasu sighed. “He did lots of bad things, and those come back to bite you later on. He deserved to die.”

“But my Emily didn’t!” Kakyoin interrupted. “She had a life ahead of her, and you took it!” He ran forward, and tried to punch Chili Pepper, who dodged right in time. He swung again, but missed. This went on for a couple of seconds, until Kakyoin landed one clean punch on Chili Pepper, then stepped away from his range, breathing heavily.

“I feel better now,” Kakyoin heaved. “Not good, but better.” He dusted himself off, and sighed heavily. “I apologize for how I acted. That was completely uncharacteristic of me,” he told Okuyasu. “But we can’t kill him yet. We need to interrogate him on the bow and arrow, as well as who his user is.”

“Don’t either of you want to kill me?” Chili Pepper taunted. “Come on, your family members are dead because of me! Shouldn’t you want to beat me to death?”

“The only thing I want is to see your smug face get smashed into the ground!” Okuyasu bellowed. “My brother was my only family, aside from my dad, who can’t even remember my face, and you took him from me! I want to scrape you away into oblivion!” When he was done ranting, he took a deep breath in. “But because you have vital information to the Speedwagon Foundation, I can’t kill you.”

“I knew it!” Chili Pepper laughed. “You try to keep a calm exterior, but inside, you’re boiling to kill me! So just come at me! Don’t you have the guts to kill the man who killed your brother? Or are you still trying to do what’s ‘best for your friends’? This is a matter of revenge!”

“Okuyasu, don’t listen to him,” Kakyoin tried to calm him down, but the boy was already charging at Chili Pepper, The Hand summoned, starting to scrape down on the Stand.

“I’ll kill you!” he shouted. He scraped away lots of the dirt and air around him, but Chili Pepper was still avoiding him. However, he wasn’t attacking him, only dodging.

“It looks like he’s losing his power,” Kakyoin thought out loud. “Okuyasu, can I trust you to not kill him while I go back to the hotel? Lily needs to know about this if she doesn’t already.”

“You sure can, Mr. Kakyoin!” Okuyasu beamed. “I won’t let this guy die before he gives us our answers.”

“You’re a lifesaver, Okuyasu,” Kakyoin patted him on the back, and sprinted towards the streets again. Now that his rage was gone, grief was starting to take hold in his heart again. As he ran, he blinked tears out of his eyes, and the image of his daughter’s charred, frightened face burned into his mind. It had to have been an illusion. No, he felt her limp form in his arms, it was far from an illusion. It was real. Emily’s dead body was real, and it was staring at him, asking why he didn’t save her, why he wasn’t there to stop Red Hot Chili Pepper.

“I would have if I had known,” Kakyoin whispered to himself. “I really would have.”

On the bus, he tried his very best to keep a calm exterior, but an occasional tear would slip out from time to time. Sometimes even a choked breath. It was hard to keep his composure when his daughter’s life was taken before his, and he didn’t even get to be there for her.

“What seems to be the matter, young man?” an old woman asked him. “You look very shaken up.”

“My daughter,” Kakyoin answered with a wavering voice. “She… she was killed.” Once he said it, the tears reached their breaking point, and he broke down again. “She was only two. I couldn’t even be there when she needed me most.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” the old woman consoled. “I know it’s hard to go through that. I lost my firstborn to a murderer when she was only fifteen. Well, all I can say is that the first few months, even years, are tough. But you have to keep going. It’ll get better with time.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” Kakyoin sniffled. “I think this is my stop.”

“Take care, young man,” she smiled.

Surely Lily already knew. Surely she had checked up on Emily, only to find an empty bed. Maybe she called the police and reported a missing body. Maybe Chili Pepper left a note, and she knew that there was no need to report a missing body.

“Hey, you’re back!” Lily chimed. She was just as happy as ever. Had she not checked on Emily at all? Was she still under the impression that their daughter was asleep, and just fine? “Oh, you don’t look very happy. And you have some burns on your cheeks. Did Red Hot Chili Pepper come and ruin your secret?”

“Lily,” Kakyoin said as his lip trembled, “it’s about Emily. She’s… she’s…”

“Daddy!” A young body wrapped its arms around Kakyoin’s legs.

“Alive?”

He looked down, and almost broke down in tears again. This time, with joy. Staring right at him was the smiling face of Emily, perfectly fine.

“She’s alive!” Kakyoin exclaimed, picking the little girl up and spinning her around. “Emily’s alive!”

“I’m guessing Chili Pepper showed you Emily’s original copy,” Lily asked. “You see, I arrived in the nick of time, and before he could drag Emily into the power lines, I duplicated her. However, she has a burn on her hand from where Chili Pepper grabbed her.”

“A burn on her hand is better than a burn on her entire body,” Kakyoin placed Emily down, then embraced Lily in a hug that he intended to be for consolation, but instead was one of pure joy. “What would I do without you?”

After a solid thirty seconds of crying with joy, Kakyoin sniffled once more, sighed, then got back to business.

“So,” he started, “Chili Pepper figured out the time and location that we were going to pick up Mr. Joestar, which is a huge problem. He said he’d be there, and he’d kill him before the boat even docks.”

“That is a huge problem,” Lily muttered.

“What we really need to know for this to go smoothly is who will be staying with Emily, and who will be going out and keeping Mr. Joestar safe.”

“If anything happens, Josuke can probably take care of it,” Lily thought out loud. “And Hierophant will be good for alerting Mr. Joestar of the danger.”

“But we would need a healer on both teams.”

“Both teams?”

“The fighting off Chili Pepper team and the retrieving Mr. Joestar team.”

“But we absolutely have to have a Stand like yours.”

“Lily, you’ve been cooped up in this hotel long enough. Plus, I’ve fought Chili Pepper a little bit, as shown by my burns. He’s powerful.”

“But you’ve fought him. You know what he can do. And you know this isn’t about who’s been cooped up longer. Noriaki.” Lily stood on her tiptoes and kissed Kakyoin’s chin. “You know that you’re the best one for the job.”

“Okay, fine,” Kakyoin admitted. “I’m the best one for the job.”

“And I’ll be rooting you on from the ice cream store,” Lily joked. “Go get that Stand user.”

“I will,” Kakyoin promised. “And this time, we won’t come up empty-handed.”

[cheemers-writing-archive]

Crusader of Life 2: Chapter 10

Walking on Sunshine was carefully watching over her sleeping user. She felt awful, since she was the reason Emily was like this, and she wanted to do everything in her power to make her feel better.

“Sunshine?” Kakyoin gently opened the door, holding a glass of water. “Here. Drink this. It’s important Emily drinks water, and whatever you do will affect her, as well. If you drink it, Emily can stay hydrated without having to wake up.”

“Okay,” Sunshine said, taking the water and drinking some of it.

“Now, I’m going to be away for a few hours. Mommy will still be here, though. Take care of Emily while I’m gone, okay?”

“Okay,” Sunshine nodded.

“I love you.”

“Love you, too.”

As Kakyoin closed the door again, Walking on Sunshine went back to caring for Emily. She was doing better, now that it had been about a week, but was still slightly feverish and more tired than usual. She could do things around the town, though, so that was good, but not for long before she was drained of energy. She was still not allowed to activate Sunshine’s power.

Emily started slowly opening her eyes, allowing her Stand to leave its manifested form. The memory of her dad hugging Sunshine and saying goodbye was made her own, so she knew where he was.

“Hey, kid.”

Emily turned to the sound of an unknown voice. There, she saw a bird-like thing emerging from an electric socket. It looked like it was made of electricity, too, with its yellow sparks all around its body.

“Hey,” it said again. “I can cure your sickness, you know. Just let me see your hands.”

“Mommy said not to talk to strangers,” Emily told it, backing away.

“I’m not a stranger, your mom knows me. That’s why I’m in your hotel room.”

“Let me ask her.”

“No, no, she’s busy right now!” the bird thing exclaimed, then quickly regained composure. “You don’t want to interrupt her, do you?”

If Red Hot Chili Pepper could take out the child, the most gullible of them all, then her parents would be stricken with grief, and might actually take his threats seriously. All he needed to do was get that little girl close enough to him, and take her into the power lines where she could be burned to a crisp.

“Okay,” Emily agreed. She slowly approached the bird thing, outstretching her hand. Closer. Closer…

“Emily, no! Get away from him!” Lily shouted. When did she open the door? “He’s dangerous!”

If Chili Pepper was going to act, it had to be now. He grabbed Emily’s hand, and pulled the rest of her body close to his.

“Mommy!” Emily cried. “Help me!”

Before Lily had time to reach him, Chili Pepper dived back into the power socket. Little Emily was screaming in pain. He had no time to stick around to see Lily’s reaction, though. After all, Okuyasu was going to be leaving soon. He had to make it to the bike’s battery. Once he could get there, everything would fall into place.

***

“Jotaro!” Kakyoin called. He ran to catch up to his old friend.

“I can’t believe that old geezer is still trying to travel at his age,” Jotaro grumbled. “I only came here in his place, and now he’s coming anyway.”

“He probably wants to see his son for the first time,” Kakyoin said. “Plus, this search for Chili Pepper’s user has gone on long enough. Hermit Purple will definitely help us find him.”

“I guess you’re right. How’s Emily been?”

“She’s steadily getting better. She should be completely fine by the time we leave.”

“That’s good.”

“Anyway, how do you think Josuke will take the news? You know, the fact that his dad is coming all the way down here, and he’ll finally get to meet him?”

“I’m hoping he takes it well.”

“Josuke! Why didn’t you tell me that he appeared? You know how I feel about Red Hot Chili Pepper!” Okuyasu yelled.

“Looks like they’ve already arrived,” Kakyoin observed.

“I asked him not to say anything,” Jotaro answered Okuyasu’s question. “Chili Pepper has been hiding in the power lines, and if we were to say anything, he might have been able to hear us.”

Meanwhile, hiding in Okuyasu’s bike battery, Chili Pepper was hearing everything. He heard Kakyoin’s voice, which meant his plan could play out, he heard about how they figured out that he was spying on them, which Josuke already knew, but most importantly, he heard about an old geezer who had the ability to find out who he was. Even better, it sounded like it was Josuke’s father.

“That’s why I asked all of you to come out here instead of discussing it in the city,” Jotaro told the three of them. “So that Chili Pepper couldn’t hear us.”

“Oh, I’ve heard quite enough,” Chili Pepper emerged from Okuyasu’s bike, holding a dead girl in his arms.

“He heard the whole thing?” Kakyoin exclaimed.

“I sure did,” Chili Pepper chuckled. “Oh, and Kakyoin, I think this belongs to you.” He tossed the girl’s body to Kakyoin, revealing a face the man knew all too well.

“Emily!” Kakyoin’s heart shattered in that moment. His daughter’s body was charred from electricity, with a face that matched the agony she must have been through. His knees buckled from beneath him, leaving him kneeling on the ground, sobbing into the burnt shirt that Emily died in.

Jotaro couldn’t imagine what that must have been like. Even if he hadn’t seen her that often, if his own daughter were to die such a horrific death, he would never forgive himself for what happened. He watched as his friend continued crying, taking in some of the extra sadness that just wouldn’t fit in Kakyoin’s body.

However, he was not prepared for that immense grief to be suddenly replaced with a burning rage. Any ounce of sadness that was left was replaced with anger. Pure, raw anger.

“You…”

Hierophant’s strings started going wild, whipping around Kakyoin before finally shooting out to catch up with the runaway bike, along with Okuyasu.

“You’ll pay for what you did!”

Jotaro had been through a lot with Kakyoin. In that moment, he remembered everything that his friend had experienced: an intense headache in a burning sun, the sheer pain of being punched through the abdomen, even the brink of insanity telling him to kill a baby. But never, not once in his life, had he seen Kakyoin so enraged. Red Hot Chili Pepper made a grave mistake.

Kakyoin gently laid down his daughter’s dead body, then shot forward from Hierophant grabbing on to the bike. He slowly reeled himself in, and before Chili Pepper knew it, Kakyoin was standing right beside Okuyasu, his face carrying the same fiery expression.

“I’ll scrape you away!” Okuyasu exclaimed. He summoned The Hand, swiping down and taking a little bit of the world with it. Unfortunately, he wasn’t fast enough to take down Chili Pepper, who zipped away just in time.

“You think your hand is faster than me?” Chili Pepper cackled. “With that speed, you’ll never get anywhere close to me!”

“I wasn’t aiming for you,” Okuyasu scoffed. “I was aiming for the bike!”

Suddenly, the bike stopped rolling, and it pummeled into the ground, leaving Chili Pepper with nowhere to run, a dying power source, and two furious Stand users.

“I’ll hold him down, and you beat him to a pulp!” Kakyoin shouted as Hierophant’s strings wrapped around Chili Pepper.

“Kakyoin! Okuyasu!” Jotaro called. “Wait for us to get down there before you do anything rash!”

“Did you really think your Hierophant Green could stop me?” Chili Pepper chuckled. Suddenly, it let out a burst of electricity, making Hierophant instantly let go. Kakyoin had burn marks in various places, mostly in a striped pattern.

“Okuyasu, I know you want to kill me,” Chili Pepper smirked. “Why don’t you just take my life, here and now, so that you can finally get revenge for your brother?”

“There’s no need for my brother’s revenge,” Okuyasu sighed. “He did lots of bad things, and those come back to bite you later on. He deserved to die.”

“But my Emily didn’t!” Kakyoin interrupted. “She had a life ahead of her, and you took it!” He ran forward, and tried to punch Chili Pepper, who dodged right in time. He swung again, but missed. This went on for a couple of seconds, until Kakyoin landed one clean punch on Chili Pepper, then stepped away from his range, breathing heavily.

“I feel better now,” Kakyoin heaved. “Not good, but better.” He dusted himself off, and sighed heavily. “I apologize for how I acted. That was completely uncharacteristic of me,” he told Okuyasu. “But we can’t kill him yet. We need to interrogate him on the bow and arrow, as well as who his user is.”

“Don’t either of you want to kill me?” Chili Pepper taunted. “Come on, your family members are dead because of me! Shouldn’t you want to beat me to death?”

“The only thing I want is to see your smug face get smashed into the ground!” Okuyasu bellowed. “My brother was my only family, aside from my dad, who can’t even remember my face, and you took him from me! I want to scrape you away into oblivion!” When he was done ranting, he took a deep breath in. “But because you have vital information to the Speedwagon Foundation, I can’t kill you.”

“I knew it!” Chili Pepper laughed. “You try to keep a calm exterior, but inside, you’re boiling to kill me! So just come at me! Don’t you have the guts to kill the man who killed your brother? Or are you still trying to do what’s ‘best for your friends’? This is a matter of revenge!”

“Okuyasu, don’t listen to him,” Kakyoin tried to calm him down, but the boy was already charging at Chili Pepper, The Hand summoned, starting to scrape down on the Stand.

“I’ll kill you!” he shouted. He scraped away lots of the dirt and air around him, but Chili Pepper was still avoiding him. However, he wasn’t attacking him, only dodging.

“It looks like he’s losing his power,” Kakyoin thought out loud. “Okuyasu, can I trust you to not kill him while I go back to the hotel? Lily needs to know about this if she doesn’t already.”

“You sure can, Mr. Kakyoin!” Okuyasu beamed. “I won’t let this guy die before he gives us our answers.”

“You’re a lifesaver, Okuyasu,” Kakyoin patted him on the back, and sprinted towards the streets again. Now that his rage was gone, grief was starting to take hold in his heart again. As he ran, he blinked tears out of his eyes, and the image of his daughter’s charred, frightened face burned into his mind. It had to have been an illusion. No, he felt her limp form in his arms, it was far from an illusion. It was real. Emily’s dead body was real, and it was staring at him, asking why he didn’t save her, why he wasn’t there to stop Red Hot Chili Pepper.

“I would have if I had known,” Kakyoin whispered to himself. “I really would have.”

On the bus, he tried his very best to keep a calm exterior, but an occasional tear would slip out from time to time. Sometimes even a choked breath. It was hard to keep his composure when his daughter’s life was taken before his, and he didn’t even get to be there for her.

“What seems to be the matter, young man?” an old woman asked him. “You look very shaken up.”

“My daughter,” Kakyoin answered with a wavering voice. “She… she was killed.” Once he said it, the tears reached their breaking point, and he broke down again. “She was only two. I couldn’t even be there when she needed me most.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” the old woman consoled. “I know it’s hard to go through that. I lost my firstborn to a murderer when she was only fifteen. Well, all I can say is that the first few months, even years, are tough. But you have to keep going. It’ll get better with time.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” Kakyoin sniffled. “I think this is my stop.”

“Take care, young man,” she smiled.

Surely Lily already knew. Surely she had checked up on Emily, only to find an empty bed. Maybe she called the police and reported a missing body. Maybe Chili Pepper left a note, and she knew that there was no need to report a missing body.

“Hey, you’re back!” Lily chimed. She was just as happy as ever. Had she not checked on Emily at all? Was she still under the impression that their daughter was asleep, and just fine? “Oh, you don’t look very happy. And you have some burns on your cheeks. Did Red Hot Chili Pepper come and ruin your secret?”

“Lily,” Kakyoin said as his lip trembled, “it’s about Emily. She’s… she’s…”

“Daddy!” A young body wrapped its arms around Kakyoin’s legs.

“Alive?”

He looked down, and almost broke down in tears again. This time, with joy. Staring right at him was the smiling face of Emily, perfectly fine.

“She’s alive!” Kakyoin exclaimed, picking the little girl up and spinning her around. “Emily’s alive!”

“I’m guessing Chili Pepper showed you Emily’s original copy,” Lily asked. “You see, I arrived in the nick of time, and before he could drag Emily into the power lines, I duplicated her. However, she has a burn on her hand from where Chili Pepper grabbed her.”

“A burn on her hand is better than a burn on her entire body,” Kakyoin placed Emily down, then embraced Lily in a hug that he intended to be for consolation, but instead was one of pure joy. “What would I do without you?”

After a solid thirty seconds of crying with joy, Kakyoin sniffled once more, sighed, then got back to business.

“So,” he started, “Chili Pepper figured out the time and location that we were going to pick up Mr. Joestar, which is a huge problem. He said he’d be there, and he’d kill him before the boat even docks.”

“That is a huge problem,” Lily muttered.

“What we really need to know for this to go smoothly is who will be staying with Emily, and who will be going out and keeping Mr. Joestar safe.”

“If anything happens, Josuke can probably take care of it,” Lily thought out loud. “And Hierophant will be good for alerting Mr. Joestar of the danger.”

“But we would need a healer on both teams.”

“Both teams?”

“The fighting off Chili Pepper team and the retrieving Mr. Joestar team.”

“But we absolutely have to have a Stand like yours.”

“Lily, you’ve been cooped up in this hotel long enough. Plus, I’ve fought Chili Pepper a little bit, as shown by my burns. He’s powerful.”

“But you’ve fought him. You know what he can do. And you know this isn’t about who’s been cooped up longer. Noriaki.” Lily stood on her tiptoes and kissed Kakyoin’s chin. “You know that you’re the best one for the job.”

“Okay, fine,” Kakyoin admitted. “I’m the best one for the job.”

“And I’ll be rooting you on from the ice cream store,” Lily joked. “Go get that Stand user.”

“I will,” Kakyoin promised. “And this time, we won’t come up empty-handed.”

[jonnysinsectcatalogue]

Eastern Calligrapher Hoverfly - Toxomerus geminatus

This tiny Hoverfly is easily distinguished from its relatives by the arrow-shaped patterning adorning its abdomen. It’s almost as if it lines were drawn and finely articulated with a precise brush stroke rather than having been formed naturally. Keep this in mind as posts in the near future will explore several new Hoverfly species (to this blog) that bare a close morphological resemblance to this specie, and all of them are tiny like today’s insect showcase. Previously shared species have been larger and more robust, bearing a close resemblance to Bees or other other larger Hymenopterans. Big or small however, the resemblance is effective and deceives would-be predators to leave the Hoverfly alone for fear it may sting. Of course, Flies don’t have stingers, so there’s no danger in observing them. In the case of today’s Fly, don’t be put off by the pointed abdomen tip. It’s totally harmless with no stinger to be seen. Similar to many other Fly families, you can easily distinguish between males and females of this specie by looking at their eyes (females have a gap between their eyes, males may just have a line), but there’s another way to tell. 

Female Eastern Calligraphers have a pointed tipped abdomen while a male’s tends to be rounded. Have a look through these individuals and see if you can tell which individuals here are male or female. As for actually observing this specie, you may have luck searching on leaves in proximity to blooming flowers as spring begins and settles. The individuals I was able to photograph love to perch on greenery and soak in the sun. They will of course visit flowers to obtain food, but they also have another purpose when walking on a flower. Healthy plants can draw the attention of Aphid aggregations and this is an opportunity the Fly can use for the betterment of its offspring. By laying eggs near the Aphids, the hatching maggots have a ready supply of soft-bodied food to enjoy. It may sound strange that a carnivorous larva turns into a herbivorous adult, but in the insect world, this story is often repeated across many insect orders. If you are interested in examining other dramatic transformations from insect larva to insect adult, Neuropteran insects may be the best example. In any case, if you see these Flies in your garden, just know that they’re here for you to assist with Aphid control. How helpful!

Pictures were taken on May 12, 16, 30, and July 23, 2020 with a Google Pixel 4.

[privatepractxce]

Tiva Oneshot ~ Neon Signs

Tony and Ziva fluffy oneshot; they have been on the road for twelve hours before they eventually end up at a low end motel for the night - sharing a room. What happens when the boundaries of their 'friendship' get slightly blurred?

Read On Wattpad / Read on Fanfiction.net

An old neon sign dimly glows and gently illuminates the ground below, as the car slowly grinds to a halt. The sign, simply reading 'Motel', is strategically placed so that it can be seen from the highway and passers-by are enticed to pull in. The truth is, not many people do anymore, because even from the distance of the busy road you can tell the motel lacks love. Several windows are haphazardly boarded up and glass bottles roll back and forth across the tarmac in the breeze, it is the kind of place only those looking to hide or escape might find themselves.

Tony had initially protested Ziva's instructions to pull over and take a break, but after she warned him that his choices were either pull over or let her drive for a while, he turned left. Off the interstate and down the uneven road leading to the motel. It had been over twelve hours since they got in the car, so the quiet whirring sound of the engine drifting off was one of comfort. For a few moments, they both just sit in a safe silence; Ziva rests her head against the cold window pane to her right, whilst Tony leans on the steering wheel in-front of him - lightly tapping his fingers to the broken beat in his head. The gentle click of a door handle being opened breaks the silence, as Ziva pushes open her door and pauses for a second, letting the evening breeze drift into the car before stepping out onto the concrete. Tony follows her lead, opening his door and pointing towards the cracked glass pane with another neon sign hanging over it, only this one is smaller, and reads 'Manager'.

It takes several harsh knocks on the glass before a short, balding man appears - sporting sweat marks and a receding hairline that makes Ziva want to step back a few paces. His breath is even worse, the stench of stale cigarette smoke and some kind of chilli, mix in the air when he opens his mouth to speak - creating a nauseatingly vile odour. "Room for two, is it?" he asks, maintaining an almost psychopathic level of eye contact the entire time. Ziva nods and pulls some bills out of her pocket, the man, whose name tag appears to read Doyle, holds a greasy palm out under the hatch. Ziva strategically drops the money into his hand to avoid touching it. Meanwhile Tony moves to lean against the dark brick wall separating the manager's office from the night air, he closes his eyes as he takes a deep breath - failing to notice Ziva watching him from the corner of her eye. Doyle shoves the money in his back pocket and pads across the room, returning with a small key. "402" he says, holding out his hand with the key in it. Tony steps away from the wall and walks in front of Ziva, grabbing the key from Doyle's hand - flashing him a sickly-sweet smile and turning to walk away.

The door to room 402 looks like it was originally supposed to be red, but the paint has faded over time and now it's more of an orange shade - a small heart with an arrow through it has been haphazardly carved just above the door handle, most likely by a teenage couple aching to leave behind an everlasting imprint of their whirlwind love. Tony ignores it, trying desperately not to think about what usually lies behind the motel doors he has to force open. He twists and turns the key in the lock for several minutes before the wooden door clicks and Ziva nudges it open with her foot. Unsurprisingly there's a musty smell and small patches of damp in the corners of the ceiling which Tony and Ziva both take a second to process before they step inside.

 Despite the obvious flaws, the room itself isn't too shabby. There are some minor floorboard creaks, the television only has three channels, and Ziva nearly chokes on dust when she goes to pull the curtains closed, but the large double bed is clean, there's a stack of brand new magazines on the arm chair by the window and a shiny coffee maker takes pride of place on the shelf opposite the bed. It might not be a luxury hotel but just for the night it's ideal.

 Ziva sits down on the bed, which softly groans under her weight, and begins to unlace her combat boots - whilst Tony disappears into the bathroom to wash his face. When he comes out again Ziva is pulling her hair out of her slicked back ponytail, and then attempts to comb her fingers through the mass of curls that bounce back when freed. She hears the bathroom door close and adjusts herself so she is sitting with one leg on the bed, in an attempt to see Tony. "You look exhausted" she points out. He shrugs and walks towards the other side of the bed.

 "I am" he says, "You must be too."

 Ziva tilts her head to the side and continues to arrange her natural curls. "Yes, I am too. It has been a long day".  The bed groans softly again when Tony lowers himself onto the other side of it, never taking his eyes off Ziva. They continue to the hold eye contact as Tony reaches for the hem of his shirt and slowly pulls it over his head, if he had been on the road with anyone else he would have made sure to get two separate rooms but it's Ziva - they've been through everything together and it's not like there is any need to be embarrassed of his body when he's around her. She's literally seen it all before. Once the shirt is off he throws it onto the chair by the window, noticing how a sliver of light dances through the slit where the curtains don't quite meet to close. Next, he turns away from Ziva and casually undoes his belt, sliding his trousers off and then quickly slipping his lower half under the duvet. As he does he realises that Ziva has also removed her shirt and trousers and is stood in just her underwear facing away from him. Despite everything, Tony feels himself flushing a dark shade of red and quickly looks down at the duvet, inspecting each tiny fibre with a level of diligence even his grey-haired boss would be proud of.

 He doesn't look up again until he feels the other side of the duvet lifting. Ziva grins at him when he catches her eye - it takes him a second to realise why. "Hey!" he laughs. "That's one of my shirts - where did you get it?" Ziva winks at him and continues tugging on the duvet.

 "I took it out of your bag earlier when we were on the road." She whispers, still grinning.

 The worn grey shirt is an old Ohio State one from Tony's time at college, and somehow it manages to look ten times better on Ziva than it ever did on him. The somewhat frayed hem grazes the top of her thighs and the scooped neck reveals her prized Star Of David necklace - Ziva is aware that Tony is staring but it doesn't bother her. Despite the fact neither of them have ever explicitly stated it, Ziva is aware that their friendship is largely unconventional, and that to anyone looking in from an outside perspective the boundaries between the two of them would probably appear blurred. As far as Ziva is concerned, other people can think whatever they want, her life is hers, and hers alone. So she will do as she pleases - if she wanted to spend a life being told what she could and couldn't do she would simply have stayed in Israel with her father.

Gracefully she slips into the bed, next to Tony. She is painfully aware of his chest slowly moving up and down as he breathes and tries to put it out of her mind as they both lie on their backs, staring at the ceiling. After a few moments, Ziva leans over the edge of the bed and switches off the lamp that is providing a harsh yellow streak of light that bounces off the walls. The dark comforts her, despite all the bad memories she associates with it, it still manages to feel like a cocoon of safety - engulfing her and allowing her to loosen her tight grip on life for a while. Silence, however, still manages to unnerve her sometimes. "Tony" she murmurs.

"Still awake." He says, shifting his weight so that he is closer to her.

"I'm tired but I can't seem to sleep." She says, sighing. Her statement lingers in the air as the minutes pass, she can still hear Tony's breathing but he says nothing.  Instead of bothering him, Ziva rolls over so that she is facing the window and her back is to him, then she closes her eyes and attempts to fall asleep, again. Just as she thinks she might be drifting off she feels a hand on her hip.

Her natural reflexes take over and in a split second she hits the warm body behind her with brutal force before scrambling to sit upright. Immediately Ziva hears a low groan and a wince, it takes her a moment to regain her train of thought and realise what's just happened. "I am... I..." She starts.

 "It's okay Ziva." Tony says, wincing slightly again. "I don't know why I did that... I shouldn't have".

 "I did not mean to hurt you, it was a reflex." She gabbles. "Mossad training never really leaves a person... are you injured?" Tony shakes his head, still lying down, attempting to regain his regular breathing pattern after the blow to the abdomen, but Ziva can't see him in the dark. She reaches over and switches the lamp back on. "Let me look Tony." she says, as she kneels up and leans over him, in the light she can see the remnants of pain etched on his face. His lips are tightly pressed shut and he's squinting, "I hit you hard." This time she is the one who shakes her head, cursing herself for her annoyingly sharp reflexes. Carefully she peels the duvet away from him, he tries to protest but she looks him straight in the eyes and he quickly takes the hint. The odd nature of the situation does nothing to help diffuse the tension that has formed in the atmosphere. Tony's breathing hitches as Ziva rubs his abdomen. "Does this hurt?" She asks. Tony stares blankly at her. "Tony..." She prompts.

"Oh, um... no. I'm fine." He reassures her. Gradually she removes her hand from his abdomen but stays knelt next to him on the bed. "Really I am okay Ziva", he whispers, propping himself up on his elbows. He smiles at her, to let her know that he has forgiven her. "It will make a great story in the future though." He chuckles. Ziva rolls her eyes and lies back down, once again rolling over to face the window. Only this time she waits a few seconds before tentatively moving back until she feels her skin make contact with Tony's. "Ziva" He whispers but she gently shushes him before reaching back for his arm and placing it over her.

"Goodnight Tony." She whispers, gently pushing her body against his.