#mikiel giacho

[raitrolling]

doodling a miki while i remember how to draw again

hes Going Through It

[raitrolling]

the disease fae be like you get a title! and you get a title! everyone gets a title!!

Harbinger handed out two titles: Maledict and Glaciate

[raitrolling]

which trolls (if any) enjoy pineapple on pizza vs hate it with a fiery passion >:)

Pineapple fans: Zotick (loves it because everyone else hates it and will send people pineapple pizzas as a prank), Soroll (he'll eat anything and dumpster-dived pineapple pizza is no exception), Callan (his actual favourite pizza topping is Aussie-style, but he'll also enjoy a good Hawaiian pizza), Aiolos (loves Hawaiian pizza, anyone who doesn't love pineapple on pizza is weak and natural selection is coming for them), Sharle (also a Will Eat Anything kinda guy, but does think pineapple on pizza gives it more flavour)

Certified pineapple hater: Mikiel (extreme snob when it comes to pizza toppings. it's either Authentic Italian-Style pizza or it's total shit. throw into the garbage immediately)

everyone else is either neutral on it or just doesn't eat pizza in general

[raitrolling]

in a random burst of motivation, i updated mikiel's toyhou.se profile to include his shiny new title + updated relationships + some extra facts to his misc. information page based on recent events

'but what about his regular tumblr profile?' you ask, but i am already tucking myself in all nice and cozy and taking a nap

[raitrolling]

👊 your most OP trolls

HMMM id say my most OP trolls are mikiel, fleure, and vallis, but since vallis' overpowered nature is in a wildcard way (in that he cannot be killed in a way that matters) i'll do miki v fleure

for the sake of fairness id have to exclude the fact that fleure knows many instant-kill spells because otherwise he'll just curbstomp everyone, but even with that restriction he'd still handily win against mikiel

not that miki won't put up a fight of course, with his cryokinesis he is very much capable of freezing fleure's water magic, but fleure's magic is a lot more versatile and he can fire off multiple large-scale spells without breaking a sweat, so he'd be able to force mikiel into constantly playing defense against an onslaught of attacks

also he could just melt all of mikiel's ice as well, and even use his own ice magic but he's not as adept at using it compared to miki. its a jack of all trades vs master of one situation

but, miki theoretically could defeat fleure if he was able to get close enough to freeze him completely and then shatter the ice, but that requires him to get close in the first place. and that's kind of a scary thought cuz fleure is immortal but has only limited healing/regeneration abilities so i think he would still be technically alive even after being shattered to pieces and i don't wanna think about the implications of that lmao

[raitrolling]

P much all my trolls have their ‘earth’ nationality + accent figured out, so I’ll just list my mains:

Katrin: English, specifically a lower-class London accent (I.E. the ‘chav’ accent). It’s a bit hard to tell since she tends to mumble through her words, but it’s definitely there

Nancor: Peruvian, though I haven’t decided on the exact region. His accent is pretty strong, and he knows a decent amount of Spanish as well

Callan: Australian, with the intensity of someone who most definitely grew up in Queensland. I swear every time I hear someone with an incredibly thick Aussie accent they always come from Queensland

Ashell: Hungarian. He’s lost his accent over time, but you still hear it in the way he pronounces certain words. Can also speak a small amount of Hungarian

Mikiel: Italian, probably from the more southern regions of Italy but I haven’t decided yet. The angrier he gets, the thicker his accent is

Lusien: Icelandic. His accent would be more apparent if he spoke more than a few sentences at a time. Knows a couple Icelandic words, mostly phrases his lusus + guardian would tell him as a kid to reassure / calm him

Viltau: American, specifically that ‘Hollywood’ accent actors get when they’ve had a lot of vocal coaching. His natural accent is a Boston one, which slips out when he’s really angry

Glasya: Czech. Their accent is of average intensity and doesn’t tend to fluctuate. They can speak fluent Czech (as well as Polish but that’s irrelevant to their nationality)

Vallis: Singaporean. Also of average intensity, but is more apparent on certain words. He was taught Mandarin, but he still trips up on inflections so he’s better at writing it

y'know i fucking ADORE when people give their characters like 'earth' nationalities and accents. i hope y'all know

And if you got a character with an accent or a character who has a specific nationality you should rb this w them

🔫 This is not a request

[raitrolling]

Hey, Miki, how’s it going? Probably. Bad. But still.

"... It's fine."

=> It's not fine, as evident by the fact that your broken elbow is still in a sling (not pictured), but as if you're going to complain to a complete stranger.

=> You're going to physical therapy for your injured leg, at least, and you've been keeping up with all the check-ups and pain medication, but mentally you're... Existing.

=> Ginger has dropped by a couple times to keep you company, and The Maledict has visited as well to thank you for assisting her - not that you feel like there's anything to thank. But, you suppose both their company was not unwanted.

[raitrolling]

Ok I’m still thinking of Hades-style keepsakes for my trolls

Katrin: Dulled Knives. A mismatched pair of well-used blades. Adds extra distance for your ranged weapon.

Nancor: Lucky Crow Feathers. A charm made from pitch-black feathers. Provides a brief attack boost every time you successfully dodge an enemy’s attack.

Ashe: Synthetic Blood Vial. Blood made from ink and his moirail’s magic. All attacks have a slight chance of stealing health from enemy.

Velour: Kitsune Brooch. A sparkly 3D-Printed fox with a teal-blue ribbon. Gain 1 invincible hit at the start of every encounter.

Mikiel: Never-Melting Ice. A chunk of crystalline ice. All attacks do extra damage to enemies afflicted with the chill status.

Lusien: Beacon Lens. A pendant made out of the shards of a lighthouse’s beacon. Deals extra damage to armoured enemies.

Viltau: Vintage Pocketwatch. An old watch made with real gold. Slightly boosts rewards for darkness, obols, and gems whenever encounters are completed in a set time.

Glasya: Imitation Rock Candy. Small geodes in a cellophane bag, carved to look like candies. Add and extra 5-15 points to all healing items.

Vallis: Cephalopod lure. A cute lure that resembles a bobtail squid. All fish caught while this keepsake is equipped will net double rewards when given to the Head Chef.

[raitrolling]

Long Black Night, Morning Frost

[Easy reading version on Toyhou.se]

Mikiel did not know how - or when - he ended up in the hospital. But, judging by all the cords and drips has been hooked up to, his arm in a cast, and a fresh set of fangs poking out of his gums where the old broken teeth had been removed, it would have to have been multiple nights spent unconscious at most. 

He also did not know how long he stayed in that hospital. Time felt like an illusion, in and out of consciousness and operating theatres and x-ray machines, staring at different ceilings depending on the room he’d been left in, seeing revolving doors of nurses checking beeping machines and administering painkillers and saying things that went in one ear and out the other. Occasionally being spoon fed yoghurt and jelly, and finding just the act of moving his jaw and swallowing to be a struggle.

Ginger visited once, he thinks, maybe twice, even. He recalled their low, dry tone of voice, but didn’t remember when they had said to him. He wasn’t even sure if he spoke back.

He was, by all metrics, absolutely exhausted. 

Another week, and the hospital staff deemed him well enough to be discharged. He still had a couple future visits booked, and physiotherapy sessions to attend as well.

His broken elbow was expected to make a full recovery, as were his ribs. That was the only good news he had received.

The fae’s jaws had torn a few muscles in his leg while he was caught in their jaws. The hospital had provided him with a medical cane to help assist with walking during the recovery phase, as pushing himself too far could result in much more permanent damage. He was forced to take time off work too, as a result.

His psiionics, on the other hand…

Mikiel was not accustomed to feeling the warm outdoor air as he was escorted out of the hospital and into the chauffeured car that would take him home. It was… Uncomfortable, sticky with humidity that would typically have been neutralised by his own power.

The doctors had to neutralise his cryokinesis, he was told, as the overdose on stimulants had pushed his psiionics far beyond their limits to the point where he could have either burned them out completely or caused them to break down into further instability. The former could have been dealt with, but the latter would’ve put him at a risk for culling. 

Supposedly, the Mantle of Pestilence had declared to the staff that he needed to survive no matter what. That was likely the only thing that saved him from an untimely fate. 

His power would return to him slowly as his body recovers, but he was warned that he may still experience psiionic instability if he were to use them too much. Had he been told that last sweep, he wouldn’t have cared. But now, right as he’d been accepting his cryokinesis, learning to tame the beast and make it his own, he was back where he started with nothing he could do about it.

It was frustrating. He wanted to scream, but he could not waste the energy on something so pointless. 

He fumbled for his keys as he reached the door to his apartment, resting against the wall to keep himself steady. He only had one functioning arm while the other was in a sling, meaning that the cane was practically useless if he ever needed to pick something up. He cursed as his hand struggled to grasp the keys in his pocket, feeling the dull ache shoot up his arm while his fingers curled around the metal.

His blackened fingers and ice-blue lightning scars on his arms served as a reminder of his ultimate failure. 

The doctor had told him plain and simple: The nerve endings in his fingers were dead, burnt out from the strain of his psiionics. For the rest of his life, he’ll struggle with most fine motor functions, and experience frequent numbness and pain. At first, he didn’t care, he was too tired to think too much of it, and he knew that he would have done anything for his moirail no matter what happened to his body.

He still would, he thinks. Thrixe meant everything to him. Yet…

As he hobbled his way into his apartment, the first thing he laid his eyes upon was his violin, sitting in its stand next to the TV unit where he hadn’t touched it for perigees, perhaps even over a sweep. 

He hated that thing. He’d tried to learn how to play and given up over and over, knowing he could never be perfect, and knowing he would never achieve any feats with his music when violinists of centuries past had already created every song worth playing. It had always felt pointless to even attempt, but foolishly, he would still pick up the instrument and try again.

Now, there truly was no point. His hands would never be able to hold it steady again.

Mikiel scoffed as he cast his gaze away from the wretched instrument, and slowly lowered himself down onto the couch. He propped the cane against the arm of the couch and the wall, and stared straight ahead. 

Aside from the rumbling of his neighbour’s excessively loud music, the apartment was still. The blueblood had nothing to do with himself but think. 

No returning to work until his bones and his leg had fully healed. No strenuous exercise, meaning no ice skating like he had returned to practising prior to his moirail’s disappearance. No solid foods until his teeth had finished growing back. No trips to restaurants or music performances on his own, as his current injuries could make him a target for other highbloods looking for an easy cull.

He did not know when Thrixe will return. Or Ginger too, for that matter. He recalls hearing that they would be busy as well. Cleaning up all the damage he had caused to the fae realms.

There was only…

No, he couldn’t. 

How the fuck was he supposed to tell Lyvere about what happened to him?

He knows what his friend is like. How… Frightened, he looked whenever he’d noticed Mikiel’s previous injuries from when he was enslaved by the Red Scarves. All the moments of hesitation the other blueblood experienced, rightfully afraid that he could get snapped at if he expressed too much concern. Worried that each time he saw Mikiel may very well be his last. Lyvere didn’t know what to think about his work at Gaia, either. It was just as unknown and dangerous as the gang.

Mikiel did not want to see that worried expression on his friend’s face again. He did not - could not - want to make the other blueblood suffer because of what he had done to himself. What he made the choice to do, as he had not considered Lyvere’s feelings until the moments before he thought he was dying. Because he was afraid that they would hold him back, and he would not have been able to accomplish what he did if there was any doubt clouding his mind. 

It was a weight tying them both down, one that Lyvere surely had already noticed but had been electing to ignore for some reason. He knew Mikiel was dangerous for the beginning. 

It would be for the best, then. For him to not contact his friend again. To let him think that his last text was the end. 

Yet, as he made that decision, he felt a hollow ache in his chest. Not caused by the cracks in his ribs that ached whenever he moved too much or breathed too heavily, but…

Mikiel shook his head, then reached for the remote to turn on the television. He didn’t want to think about it. 

[raitrolling]

goddesstrolls​:

raitrolling​:

hands u a not glas

“h3y. y’know, that littl3 kick to th3 shin yov gav3 m3 cavs3d m3 to los3 my l3g.”

“so if yov s33 m3 yov’d b3tt3r start fvcking rvnning.”

I didn’t kick y❄u th❄t h❄rd.

If y❄u l❄st y❄ur leg, it’s y❄ur ❄wn d❄mn f❄ult f❄r n❄t t❄king c❄re ❄f the w❄und pr❄perly.

I'm at work, but for when I get home: rb with a troll, and one of my characters will judge them! Feel free to respond/judge back uvu

[raitrolling]

some updates for the ice boy :]

tfw the psiionic scarring is so bad you have to retire the fingerless gloves

[raitrolling]

Where the Wolfsbane Blooms

[Easy reading version on Toyhou.se]

(This drabble is related to @cloudbattrolls' Harbinger plot, and takes place at the same time as Last Stand.)

Mikiel had been waiting for this moment.

Perigees had passed since Thrixe’s disappearance, but he had done nothing but wait. Biding his time, throwing himself into his work, keeping his skills sharp and his anger even sharper. Gone were the times that he would complain at the sight of some unexplainable abnormality, replaced now with a cold efficiency to destroy anything that crossed his path.

It was all he could do to stay sane, at least until Ginger gave him the call.

They told him to expect to be summoned a few nights after their first call, which gave him ample time to prepare. The head of Special Operations had taken his notice that he was summoned by the Mantle of Pestilence themself as a job of grave importance, making Mikiel Gaia’s representative in assisting with restoring the balance between the two realms. Many of Gaia’s agents, like all other entities on Alternia, had been barred entry from the realm after the fae closed the courts, meaning that they could not send in any back-up to assist him.

But, that did not mean they were unable to provide the blueblood with any assistance.

In his hand were three doses of psiionic stimulant, each contained within an auto-injector needle. Mind honey is a highly-controlled substance on Alternia, yet Gaia had something equally as potent on its side: Magic. Mikiel had been warned by the medical staff to not exceed more than one dose over twenty-four hours, as given his highly unstable psiionics they could not be certain that his body would be able to handle the strain they will put on his heart.

As he tucked two of the injectors into his pockets and stared down his present targets, the last thing on his mind were any safety concerns. Being safe will not bring his moirail back.

When he was teleported into the Summer Court, he was barely given any time to take in his surroundings before Ginger had informed him of his task: Keep the advancing fae at bay, and buy the two trolls they were assisting as much time as possible to catch up to their quarry. Supposedly they were seeking out one known as The Fireseer, the sole roadblock between this world and The Furthest Ring.

Their goals aligned with his, and that was all he cared about. The rest of these damned fae realms could burn to the ground, as far as he was concerned. 

Ginger had also provided him with some minor protective spells before they parted ways: One to shield his eyes from the Court’s endless daylight, and one to lessen the impact of any magic or wounds caused by the fae. Typically he did not enjoy the idea of being subjected to magic, but he had to respect their practicality. 

The battlefield in front of him was a coastal wasteland: A strategic location to provide himself with ample room to let his psiionics loose, and pools of boiling water behind him created a chokepoint to defend as the main group made their escape. The sun shining above him felt like it should have been burning his skin like that of Alternia’s brightest star, but his psiionics combined with Ginger’s spell protected him from any discomfort related to the unusual temperature. 

He could see swarms of disease-ridden amalgamations approaching from the horizon, and knew it was time. With a silent nod towards Ginger, he set out to fulfil his duty.

Ice began forming at his feet as he pulled off his gloves, holding the needle between his teeth while he clenched and unclenched his hands. The temperature of the Summer Court would ordinarily not be ideal for his psiionics, his frozen footsteps not spreading out as fast as he would like. He kept advancing until he was in the middle of the field, staring firmly ahead at the disgusting creatures in front of him. 

He could feel the many pairs of eyes on him, scrutinising him with suspicion. He is but a single troll, powerless against the fae’s sheer numbers in their forces and lacking in any natural defenses that their species was accustomed to. A mind fragile against supernatural interference, a body incapable of regenerating itself infinitely…

But they knew what just one troll could be capable of, after the intruder had destroyed so many kin, and they knew that there must be a reason if Pestilence had called upon him specifically.

That reason made itself clear when the blueblood bared his teeth and snarled, almost wolf-like in nature, then drove the needle into his own thigh.  

That snarl became a pained howl as Mikiel doubled over, clutching his head as the stimulant ignited his psiionics, sending shockwaves of power throughout his entire body. His vision tripled, his head felt like it was splitting apart while his heart threatened to tear out of his chest, and he felt like he was going to vomit. 

The landlocked fae did not stand a chance against the resulting blast of pure psiionic energy.

The ground within a twenty metre radius of Mikiel froze within an instant, consuming everything in its path. Pillars of ice spikes shot up metres in the air around him, and as he staggered backwards sent even more soaring up into the air. He could hear a cacophony of sounds as those capable of flight screeched at the sight of entire squadrons of fae swallowed up by the ice, their horrified expressions captured inside their frozen prisons. 

Breathing heavily, his hand moved to his chest to feel his heartbeat. Each breath felt like he was getting speared by icicles forming within his own lungs. His glasses cracked under the rapid drop in temperature, making the swarms of creatures ahead nothing but dark inhuman blurs. Ice stuck to his clothes and climbed up his legs, reminding him that he needed to get moving now lest he end up just like his foes.

He took a moment to attach his ice skate blades to his boots, and charged forward. 

Mikiel ducked and weaved amongst the ice spikes shooting up at all angles around him, baiting the fae to try and get within his reach. The one drawback of his cryokinesis was that he cannot freeze anything that is not directly touching either himself or the ground underneath him, but after dealing with abnormalities at Gaia, he had developed a new strategy. 

A mass of insectoid limbs with monarch wings dive bombed in from his left. Mikiel turned on his skates and swung out his arm, using his entire body to guide the fast-growing ice spikes into the same arc. The fae stopped in its tracks for just a second too long and was pierced by a spike directly through its central core.   

Another one down. God knows how many to go.  

Mikiel kept moving, keeping as many fae eyes on him as possible, leading them around the battlefield and spearing them with his spikes whenever the opportunity struck. To stop moving would be to die. Any moment spent standing still would allow the disgusting creatures to pile onto him, overwhelming him with their sheer numbers.

But, while quick and with the power of at least ten psiionics surging through his veins, he was not invincible. 

A nautilus-like disease fae, using its crystalline shell to camouflage against a pillar of ice, shot its tendrils out at the skating troll, and managed to get a grip on his arm. Mikiel stumbled, caught unaware, and was forced to grind his blades to a halt. With its prey ensnared, the fae sprouted more tendrils, this time tipped with sharp needle-like points, and aimed them at the blueblood’s neck. 

Mikiel disregarded those entirely, instead grabbing onto the tendrils that’d wrapped around his other arm. He yanked them towards himself with all his strength to dislodge the fae from its hiding place, and the needle-tipped tendrils missed their mark, one only managing to nick the side of his neck while the other flailed about uselessly. He felt the creature’s grip tighten around his arm, but quickly the tendrils stiffened and froze, ice consuming the rest of its body.

It may have wasted precious seconds, but Mikiel felt some satisfaction from stomping on the newly-formed ice sculpture until it was nothing but a pile of frozen chunks.

This back-and-forth continued, until it seemed that the fae’s numbers had drastically decreased. Mikiel did not feel as if he had thinned out their numbers that dramatically, and could only assume they had performed a strategic retreat. Good, as he could feel the effects of the stimulant start to wane. He was able to breathe for a moment, and slowed down, retrieving a second pair of glasses so he could survey his surroundings. However, the lens cracked quickly from the shift in temperature, and Mikiel swore under his breath.

His neck itched where the nautilus-fae’s tendrils had scratched him, the beginnings of a rash forming. 

This section of the Summer Court had also been transformed into a frozen wasteland, spires of ice haphazardly dotted around the area encasing many fae within. Those who had been speared by the spikes had already dissolved, leaving only traces of their melted remains glimmering in the realm’s abnormal sunlight. 

There were no other traces of fae in sight, meaning… 

Mikiel heard a distorted call, a chorus of synthesised war horns crying out at once, then felt the ground underneath him rumble. The spikes around him cracked with each tremor. When he turned around, his jaw almost dropped.

It was substantially larger than the others he had fought, and while slow and lumbering it emanates the pure power of a phantasmal beast. Four sturdy hooves cracked from centuries of warfare held up a body much more dinosaur-like in appearance, and atop of its long neck was a head resembling a chimera of horse and crocodile. Its head revealed flashes of exposed bone between shaggy strings of peeled skin, and similar needle-like bones lined down the creature’s back at odd angles, finishing at a leathery tail thin as a whip.

A lengthy maw filled with fangs smiled down upon Mikiel, and its tail cracked in intimidation. Blackened skin sloughed off its body in chunks like irradiated flesh, a twisted parody of death and rebirth as new sheets regrew in its place only to be scorched and discarded. The ice floor underneath its feet sizzled as it walked, but through shattered glasses the blueblood could not tell what was dripping off its rapidly-decaying body.

He knew nothing of the fae’s hierarchy or how to identify the diseases they represented, but he could tell by its size and its ornate headdress decorated with summer foliage that the seasonal Courts had summoned one of its strongest combatants. A Royal Knight. 

He reached into his pocket to pull out a second injector. He was told to not exceed the limit of one dosage per night, but this wasn’t the ordinary circumstances he would be facing on Alternia, this was a literal do-or-die scenario. And he needed all the power he could get.

Mikiel was prepared for the consequences as he jabbed the needle into his thigh, but that did not make its activation any less painful. Again he screamed and staggered, holding his head as the same affects struck him twofold. Ice stuck to his hair and lanced up the filed-down stumps where his horns once sat, and another wave of spikes shot out from the ground in a brilliant wave as his nerves fried. He felt the burning all the way down to the tips of his fingers and toes, and tasted blood in his mouth from the strain his body was being put under. 

He was hearing sounds and seeing colours that did not exist, but his target was large enough that he did not need to clearly envision his next move. Barely able to remain steady on his feet, he took off, the ice carving a path through all the spikes for him to gain enough speed.

Then, focusing his power, the path he had created lifted off the ground, becoming a perfect ramp for him to leap off - and onto the fae’s back. 

Fuck, this thing is hot. Even with his psiionics protecting him, he could still feel the beast’s skin sizzling against his boots… As betwixt the fleshy peels lay tumorous boils which continuously oozed searing-hot acid, covering the fae in a viscous layer of boiling corrosive tar. Bubbles burst and shot flecks of acid upwards, burning tiny holes into Mikiel’s clothing, while ice continuously creeped over his body, instantly melting then reforming to protect him from the heat.

He knew now that his original plan was a bust, there was simply no way his psiionics would be able to freeze this monster. Goddammit.

The fae howled a horrible draconic roar, lurching it’s body from side to side in an attempt to shake the blueblood off. Mikiel made a grab for the rows of exposed needle-like bones running down its spines. He attempted to spread his ice down them, but they too were too hot for his cryokinesis to affect them. The best he could manage was preventing his hands from blistering upon exposure. 

Reaching out from one spine to the next, he made his way up the creature’s back, gritting his teeth through the pain of his psiionics being pushed into overdrive. He had to make this work, he had to stop this thing no matter what. Perhaps if he could not freeze it from the outside, then - 

A sound of a whip crack caught his attention, and he spun around. The tail. A long, leathery-looking thing, far more flexible than the fae’s sauropod-like appearance made it seem. It curled up like a scorpion’s stinger, and lashed forward at Mikiel. He dodged, still clinging to one of the spines to maintain his balance, but the sludgy consistency of the acid at his feet made it difficult to move. 

But the fae was not aiming to spear the cryokinetic, and the tail’s position was in a perfect spot to coil itself around Mikiel’s throat.

Mikiel panicked, clawing madly at it as he felt its grip tighten, digging his nails into its leathery flesh. He managed to pull it off him, but it kept fighting back. With the intensity of a cornered animal, he grasped a length of the tail between his fists and bit down, hard.

There was a loud crack as rather than sinking his teeth into what appeared to be flesh, Mikiel found bone hard enough to shatter his fangs. He cried out in pain and lurched backwards, wiping his hand against his mouth and tasting bloodied gums. Damn beast, he should have known that he was not dealing with a creature made of anything remotely similar to Alternian animal biology.

Yet, despite the relative stupidity of his move, the fae’s agonised shriek proved it had some impact. It withdrew its tail from the blueblood, changing strategies.

He leaned forwards to cough up all the gunk inside his mouth: blood, ice crystals, and a few shards of shattered teeth. His jaw seized up with pain, sending another wave of dizziness to distract him from the beast’s next move.

The Patron’s Mark alerted him to a sudden surge of magical energy around him. Light crackled in the air, forming rings of magical circuits that entrapped Mikiel before he was able to react.

Shit.

He couldn’t move.

The damned beast had cast a binding spell. Goddamnit, he was warned that the fae were capable of casting magic, why didn’t he think-

Before he knew it, the fae struck again. As fast as lightning, its tail smacked against him and sent him flying. He was powerless against it, and unable to move his body to lessen the near-instantaneous impact with the ground.

He heard his elbow crack against the frozen floor, but he couldn’t feel it. He continued to slide across the ice, seeing stars and incomprehensible blurs, until his body finally ran out of any momentum.

The blueblood let out a groan. Ice crawled up his arm to hold it in place, not that he was able to move anything while the spell still had its hold on him. It was starting to wear off, however, as he was able to move his head and spit out all the remaining shards of broken teeth. He knew he’d have to get them all removed when he returned, so that new teeth could grow in their place. If he was able to return. He had no plan of even attempting to make it out of this battle alive, because if he’d faltered, that could have spelled the end of Thrixe’s return. Why now? Why worry about returning home?

When he heard the rumbling of the Knight lumbering towards him, he knew why. It was because he knew he was going to die. And as its jaws clamped around his body, piercing into his flesh, oozing blood and threatening to crunch his bones, he realised he did not actually want to die.

The beast shook its head from side to side, playing with its food, and then tossed Mikiel upwards. His body ragdolled as the force of the fae’s swing and gravity interacted with one another, and he gazed directly down its open maw.

Then, he recalled his previous idea. An idea that would only work if -

The jaws of the fae clamped back down on him, but this time he’d managed to move just enough to twist around and avoid getting swallowed whole. It was biding its time with play, single-minded as fae tend to be, awaiting the moment its binding spell wore off and its prey could truly feel his last torturous moments. His leg was trapped between its fangs, and he was hanging upside-down outside of its mouth. 

Blood was rapidly rushing to his head, if it wasn’t already pouring out the previous bite wound, but he’d been fighting the dizziness from the psiionic stimulants this entire fight. All he needed was one thing: For his foot to be touching the inside of the fae’s mouth.

He wriggled his leg, and then hit something solid.

There.

Mikiel activated his psiionics with a guttural roar, and the fae suddenly fell still. Ice consumed the inside of its mouth and spread throughout its internal structure, and then - 

It howled one last final, unholy scream before hundreds of icicles pierced through its flesh from the inside-out. Mikiel was unceremoniously dropped from its maw, and could only watch as the beast exploded in a flurry of acid and viscera.

It was finally over. He’d taken down one of the Summer Court’s Royal Knights, and any last fae remaining scattered.

The blueblood felt something drip onto his face, then another landed in his eye as the shattered lenses of his glasses were unable to catch it.

Ah. The ice spikes still looming above his head are starting to melt. His psiionics have stopped working. Is that… Is he dying?

He found he could move his body again, but was too tired to stand back up. Weakly, he attempted to move his arms. The left - useless. His elbow had shattered when he first hit the ground, as all he could feel was a dull pain shooting up his arm. The right, though - he moved his hand in front of his face. It was shaking, likely from blood loss, but through his blurry vision he could tell his fingers had blackened, frostbitten in appearance.

But it wasn’t frostbite, it was burnout. If he could see properly he would notice the scarring continuing down his arm, light blue lighting bolts patterning his skin. The same scarring also present on his face, barely visible amongst the frost covering his skin.

He dropped his arm back down, landing on his chest. Ice was spreading over his body in a feeble attempt to slow the bleeding from the fae’s jaws. His leg was similarly covered in a coating of ice. He didn’t know why his own body bothered to protect himself like this, when it was only sapping away the last of his strength.

He supposed he had Ginger to thank for the fact he was still breathing now, albeit weak and laboured. If it wasn’t for their protection, he likely would have already bled out and died. Or maybe the impact of the fae’s tail that sent him flying would have killed him. Or maybe it would have been the boiling acid that covered the monster when he landed on it.

Or maybe it would have simply been from the sun, still bearing down on him while he stared into the clear blue sky. So many things that would have ordinarily caused him to give up and accept death, but in what felt like his last moments, he knew he still wanted to live.

He thought of Thrixe. Jumbled, disconnected thoughts as his mind drifted between the realms of consciousness and unconsciousness... He hoped this was enough, to bring him home. He knew Thrixe wouldn’t be proud of him for pushing himself this far, but he hoped that he would understand why he did. He hoped to see him smile again, one last time…

…

…

By the time Ginger was able to return to find Mikiel, he was already near comatose.

[raitrolling]

masterpost of all my favourite things from my doodle folder because i was just going through it

[raitrolling]

what characters can speak more than one language (fluent or not)? :3c

quite a few! just going through my mains (+ sharle who is not a main but i talk about him A Lot so i'll include him here):

Nancor: Spanish (technically Peruvian Spanish)

Ashell: Hungarian, but only at a basic level

Mikiel: Italian, and also knows bits and pieces of French and German

Lusien: Icelandic, but limited to very few words

Sharle: Monegasque, Italian, French

Glasya: Czech, Polish

Vallis: Mandarin Chinese

and since i love making lists I also have a full masterpost of everyone's accents and languages they can speak here :]

[raitrolling]

ok now i have Brain Power (AAAAE-A-E-I-E-A-) again i can go back to my thoughts on how my ocs would play Cosy Games cuz i always think its funny how people always assign characters who are Nice People as being solely animal crossing or minecraft or stardew players and its always like 'they have really pretty towns and are nice to all the NPCS uwu'

katrin is one of those people who maybe plays for hours one day but then never picks up the game again. shit like animal crossing is too daunting for her because you put down that game for a week and your town is full of weeds and the animals ask where youve been and it is just Too Scary to return to and face your failures

nancor likes to aimlessly wander around in his games and is prone to getting lost. you check your minecraft server logs and you just see him getting mauled by various mobs. hes having fun tho, dont worry about it

ashe is a Sidequest Guy, always doing all the little jobs for npcs because he likes to be helpful :) he agonises for ages over what gifts to give his animal crossing villagers when he sends them mail because he wants to make sure they like it, he needs a Good Grade In Friendships ok. he would also get up to a point in a stardew or harvest moon game where an npc asks to marry him and then he immediately checks with cheran if its okay for him to say yes or if he should turn them down LMFAO

velour is looking up tutorials for how to design the prettiest minecraft houses ever, and trying to make sure his stardew farms are the most Aesthetic ever. catch him awake at like 5am having spent all night redesigning his entire animal crossing island because he's going to livestream a tour for his YouTube channel and it needs to be Perfect

mikiel could care less about video games, and is doing the bare minimum in any game he'd touch. most likely the guy who does all the combat quests in Minecraft like fighting the ender dragon or the wither so other people he's playing with can get all the items

lucy is a Task Guy, and is dutifully doing every single daily chore in the game as well as trying to finish any quests as quickly as possible to not keep any NPCs waiting. loves fishing minigames, and completed his fishing + bug catching sections in the animal crossing museum within like a week after he learned how to time travel

viltau is a Spreadsheet Guy aiming for 100% completion and get the absolute most out of any game he'd touch, but he is also an Aesthetics Guy prone to completely renovating his animal crossing worlds / farming sim farms on a whim because he's gotten bored of how they look. he is just like velour being awake at ungodly hours trying to redo his island, but rather than doing it for fan approval hes just generally Deranged

glas just likes to fuck around and doesn't care about having any long-term goals in their games, and generally just designs shit to weird out any of their friends who visit their animal crossing island or minecraft server. why is there a corner of their island full of dolls? why do they have big meme murals in the nether? why is their cow named 'daddy milkies'? don't worry about it

vallis gets obsessed with any sort of animal raising or breeding mechanic and tends to forget about everything else. yeah his island is full of weeds and he still hasn't paid off any debts, but check out his rows upon rows of perfect hybrid flowers he's been crossbreeding

[raitrolling]

Gone

[Easy reading version on Toyhou.se]

It did not take Glasya long to put the pieces together. 

Gaia had been alerted to a sudden increase in eldritch activity in the city of Atlantis, which the Investigations team was monitoring. It appeared to have been a short burst of energy as a result of an eldritch scream, but apart from the residual influence lingering around the city being worth keeping an eye on, it was not deemed an immediate threat. They could send a team out to investigate in-person should the levels of eldritch activity increase, but based on their initial assessment it was clear that at this stage it would be a waste of resources.

At the same time, Thrixe had not answered any of Glasya’s text messages they had sent over the past 24 hours. They didn’t care when they sent the initial message, a silly meme they’d found before they heard about the recent situation in Atlantis. But when they messaged him again after hearing the news and he still had yet to respond, they knew their suspicions were confirmed.

And when he still didn’t respond to their later threat to forever revoke his free candy privileges if he didn’t reply to them, they knew it was serious. 

Glasya knew there wasn’t much they could do but keep an ear out for any whisperings of investigations or changes in activity in Atlantis. Even though it was known that Thrixe was their friend, they would not be allowed to tag along for any investigation. For starters, they were not officially employed for fieldwork, and could not go out unless the matter was deemed safe and they were accompanied by a senior member of the Investigations team. But also, given the high potential that the eldritch influence could trigger their possession trauma, their moirail and boss Mikail would not allow them to get exposed. 

It sucked, but they knew that no amount of pouting and trying to bribe him would change his mind. They may be dating, but they were still both required to act professionally on the job.

However, they did know someone else they could ask…

After messaging one of the members of the Special Operations team to confirm if a certain other troll was onsite tonight, they slipped out of their office, informed Astera that they’ll be back shortly if anyone needs them, and headed upstairs to the other department’s wing. 

It was easy to find who they were looking for, all they needed to do was follow the chill in the air. He was sitting in one of the common areas, reading through what appeared to be a briefing for an upcoming meeting. 

“Hey,” - There was a pause, as if Glasya had to stop themself from using one of the nicknames they call him behind his back. - “Mikiel. You heard the latest news?”

Mikiel looked up from his papers, eyes instinctively narrowing in suspicion. Glasya never approached him for any good reason.

“What news.”

“Oh, you know, just a certain starfish prooobably doing some sort of fucky-wucky up in Atlantis that has gotten him back on our radar, and he hasn’t responded to any of my texts. You heard anything?” Glasya’s tone was as casual as always, and Mikiel didn’t care to try and gauge how genuine their flippancy was.

“I haven’t, but…” The blueblood paused, properly considering their words. He had messaged Thrixe last night, but he wasn’t the type to follow up an unanswered text. His moirail was a grown adult who can look after himself, and if he takes a couple nights to respond, that usually means he was simply too busy. 

But everything else made that sound suspicious, and while Mikiel’s expression didn’t change the drop in temperature around the two trolls made it clear he was perturbed.

Glasya didn’t need to wait for any other response.

“Yeah, didn’t think so. I know you guys are tight, but no way he’d ignore lil ol’ me while still chatting to you,” they shrug. “Anyway, you think you’d be able to do a cheeky lil investigation? Make sure your own moirail hasn’t finally returned to his ancestral calling as a haunted sea sponge and become one with a coral reef?”

Mikiel rolled his eyes.

“That’s not what his ancestor was. But, fine. I’ll go.” 

Glasya grinned. If it was anyone else, they knew the answer would be a definite no. But, somehow, under those hundreds of layers of ice and pretentiousness, Thrixe had managed to get Mikiel to care for him after all.

“Pog. If you need an outie of whatever mission your guys were gonna send you on, say something important from Investigations has popped up. I’ll vouch for you.”   

Mikiel doubted such a plan would work, but he didn’t care if Glasya got in trouble for it. That’s their problem.

And even if he wasn’t allowed to leave for Atlantis, no one was going to stop him. Not if it was true that Thrixe was in trouble. 

-----------------

Mikiel shivered as he entered the city of Atlantis, making a beeline for Thrixe’s hive and trying his best to ignore everything else. The eldritch presence in the air was palpable to someone like him, given his sensitivity to the supernatural, but apart from the inherent wrongness of it all, it didn’t appear particularly dangerous. 

The amount of trolls wandering about thinned out considerably the closer he got to his destination, which he anticipated. He had chosen to investigate off the clock so he did not need to seek the approval of his boss, but as a member of Gaia it was still his responsibility to ensure the safety of the general populace from supernatural threats. Fortunately, the eldritch presence was doing its job keeping everyone else away, whether they realised it or not.

Mikiel could also feel the desire to turn away and abandon the investigation lingering within his mind, but he ignored it and kept going. 

As he approached the hive, he was stopped in his tracks. The front door was open, a sign that someone else had been here… Or still was inside. He bristled, on high alert, relying on The Patron’s gift to try and sense any other supernatural entities amongst the horrorterror’s lingering aura. The temperature around him was rapidly cooling, and frost creeping up the windows of the hive would alert anyone inside to his presence, but he was ready to fight if necessary.

The interior of the hive was wrecked. Mikiel did not visit Thrixe’s hive often as the hybrid preferred to visit the blueblood’s own, but he knew his moirail would not willingly leave the place in such a state. Furniture had been overturned, paintings fallen off the wall, lightbulbs shattered, and black blobs of something melted into the carpet. Ink, presumably, or some sort of sludge? He didn’t think it was necessary to understand exactly what it was, but he knew enough about terrors to know what kinds of liquids to expect. 

He crept through each room, looking for any signs of life. Nothing, no intruders like he had feared from the open door, and still no signs of the seadweller. Just a trail of the black substance, and-

Mikiel’s head suddenly turned at the sound of some animalistic noise, as his psiionics reacted in kind, freezing the floor directly underneath his feet.

Oh, it’s just Archimedes. The gryphon had left its  hiding spot and approached Mikiel, recognising him as a troll it could trust. Mikiel could not understand the animal’s body language, but he would not be surprised if it was distressed by the disappearance of its owner. He relaxed slightly, and crouched down to examine the creature. It didn’t appear like it’d been harmed, and it simply stared curiously back at him.

He nodded in acknowledgement, then stood back up, motioning for the animal to not try and follow him. If he can’t find Thrixe, he’ll need to take Archimedes back with him to make sure it gets looked after. Glasya would likely know what to do. 

He cast his attention back to the black fluid on the floor, and cautiously followed its trail. The lingering eldritch influence was starting to make his head hurt, but this appeared to be his only lead into locating his moirail. The trail took him to another door, which had been completely shattered, like something massive had forced its way through it… Or out of it.

Gazing into the open entrance of the broken door, he noticed where the trail of muck had ended. The seafront hives in Atlantis were built to be half-submerged for the seadwelling occupants, and many contained passageways and chambers that lead directly into the depths.

Mikiel grit his teeth, and turned to run out of the hive and towards the shoreline. Without thinking, he kept running, allowing his psiionics to freeze the water directly underneath him so he could take off over the ocean. He gripped his gloves in his teeth and tore them off, allowing for his cryokinesis to operate uninhibited, spreading the ice further across the waves and freezing a thick platform he could safely cross. He had learned he was able to trust in his abilities now, and that he could put his full faith that pursuing this hunch would not lead him astray. 

He did not stop until he was far from the shore, past the sandbar that only trained swimmers and those with gills would dare to cross. He knew he would not see any signs of the horrorterror hybrid from the surface, but - and he felt stupid for hoping this, but god was he desperate, despising the way his own fears burned in his chest and lead him to run into the maelstrom of eldritch activity - perhaps, he could-

“Thrixe!!!” 

He screamed his morail’s name out at the ocean, as loud and as shrill as his lungs were capable of. The chill in the air felt piercing, and he was clenching his fists so hard they were freezing over. He took in another deep breath.

“I know you’re out there somewhere, I can feel your damn presence all over the place! You- You- Coglione! Cretino! If you’ve done something stupid, get back here and tell me! Don’t just fuck off and leave everyone worried! Tu rompiscatole!” 

The words came out far angrier than he had intended, but… Seeing the state of Thrixe’s hive, the black sludge that slathered the floor, the wrecked furniture and doors that reeked of a desperate escape, and then knowing that whatever he had done had triggered Gaia to start monitoring again without knowing if this was even his moirail’s fault, he was terrified. 

“You- Answer me, goddammit!!” He screamed until his throat felt raw, and clusters of ice spikes had sprung up around him as his psiionics reflected his own rage. The ice around his fists shattered, but kept threatening to freeze over once again. He could no longer see through his glasses, having also frozen over until the lenses shattered.

But that did not matter, as there was only silence.

Silence, and the increasing feeling of absolute dread caused by the eldritch influence swarming around him. 

As Mikiel stood there, it became clear to him that Thrixe was no longer within the confines of Atlantis’ ocean, and was not in control of what lingered around the bay. If he was still in control, it’s deterring aura would have likely been much stronger to the point where the blueblood would’ve found himself unable to even get close to the hive. Thrixe would not have want his moirail to worry so much, or to get injured and fall under his thrall.

If Thrixe was still in control, it wouldn’t feel so hateful. 

The cryokinetic shivered, not from his own psiionics but from the sudden awareness that he was absolutely powerless. His moirail had vanished into the depths, and there was nothing left of him remaining in this area, nor any other ways that he could be pursued. All that was left was something that felt actively malicious towards Mikiel the longer he stayed here, feelings of hatred and resentment prickling under his skin. 

Like a man possessed, he finally followed his instincts, and fled back to shore.