#pillar type power Presses

[mcverse]

ꨄ︎ Paring: Neteyam x Avatar! F! Reader

ꨄ︎ Requested: Yes/No

ꨄ︎ Type: Part 3 out of 5 (Previous/Next)

ꨄ︎ Word count: I lost count lmaoo

ꨄ︎ Warnings: Slight angst, Emotional reader-ish?—that’s it, not spell checked

ꨄ︎ Side Bar: been a minute ✌️ lo siento im looking back at the old post & noticed I f-ed up the location—e.g. hometree and highcamp. I’m aware it’s not the same but I also forget what I previously write. I’m not gonna fix it. Just roll with it!

please keep in mind that all characters in my stories are always 18+

The arrival of Jake, the revered Olo'eyktan of the Omatikaya clan, to formally take responsibility and apologize not only for his son, but also for his mate creates an atmosphere thick with tension and unease.

It was a situation you wished could be erased from memory, an awkward and unwanted encounter that left you feeling exposed and vulnerable.

Contrary to his promise of visiting later, Jake appears the next morning, having fulfilled his a similar obligations with Spider at the break of dawn. Spider stood at a distance, a silent pillar of support, offering moral encouragement from afar.

The whole ordeal was deeply embarrassing, leaving you figuratively and quite literally exposed. Jake stood before you, his presence commanding attention, and it was a struggle to meet his gaze.

The weight of shame bore down upon you, a heavy burden knowing that your actions had caused trouble within his family.

His words hung in the air, filled with a blend of understanding and disappointment. Jake's intentions extended beyond a mere apology; he seeks resolution and a path forward amidst the tangled emotions that hang in the air.

The weight of his words sank deep within you, stirring a wish for the power to rewind time and erase the strain you had caused, disrupting the harmony of this sacred place.

You remain silent, lost in your thoughts, prompting Jake's concern to deepen. His voice carries a hint of worry as he shares the repercussions of your actions.

"Neteyam won't continue your training after yesterday's incident," he reveals, his brows furrowing with a tinge of disappointment.

Your gaze drifts absentmindedly behind him, and he glances over his shoulder, visibly relieved to find only Spider standing there, a silent pillar of support from a distance.

In an attempt to bridge the gap and offer solace, Jake reaches up and places his hand on top of your head, gently aligning your eyes with his.

His next words carry both reassurance and understanding, "I will take over your training," he states. The weight of his words sinks in, accompanied by a mix of apprehension and hope.

A frown etches itself upon your face, and you bow your head, tears welling up in your eyes. Your voice trembles as you whisper, your words laden with self-blame, "I'm sorry... I messed up." The weight of your mistake presses down on you, filling you with a profound sense of regret.

Jake shakes his head, his expression unwavering yet brimming with empathy. "Hey, hey!" he interjects, his voice soothing. In an instant, he envelops you in a warm embrace, an embrace that feels remarkably paternal.

Tears stream down your cheeks as his hand rubs gentle circles on your back, offering comfort and reassurance. "Don't say that," he murmurs softly. "It's not your fault."

Nestled against his chest, you find comfort in his words, but the weight of guilt remains. Amidst the ebb and flow of tears, you speak amidst a mix of emotions, "But it is. I shouldn't have gone. Kiri wouldn't be hurt, and everyone wouldn't be so angry."

The embrace tightens, further offering a sense of comfort and reassurance. Jake's voice carries a gentle tone as he emphasizes the importance of everyone's well-being.

"What's important is that neither of you are seriously injured," he asserts, his arms loosening their hold as he gently steps back.

With a tender touch, he lifts your chin, delicately wiping away the tears staining your cheeks, "No blame to anyone, okay?" he adds, his eyes filled with understanding, "I know it's tough, but you're a tough girl, and we are so proud of you."

A small hiccup escapes you as you try to compose yourself. "We?" you inquire, your voice laced with curiosity and vulnerability.

Jake chuckles warmly, his hand releasing your face and playfully tousling your hair. Despite the urge to swat his hand away, you let it be, savoring the lighthearted moment.

"Everyone," he replies, a fondness evident in his voice. "Me, Max, Norm, Kiri, Spider, Lo'ak..." He pauses, raising an eyebrow with a mischievous glint before continuing, "Speaking of Lo'ak, he's grounded."

Your eyes widen in surprise. "Because of the accident? Please don't be too hard on him," you plead, concern for Lo'ak's well-being evident in your voice.

Jake shakes his head, his gaze steady and reassuring. "That, among other things," he reveals, his tone filled with a mixture of firmness and understanding.

"Don't worry yourself about it. Get ready. I'm taking you back out there this afternoon." With those words, he begins to walk away, his figure growing smaller in the distance.

…

In the late afternoon, Jake reappears to fetch you, guiding you into the depths of the forest, venturing beyond the usual paths Neteyam would take.

If you were to claim that you haven't thought about Neteyam since your last exchange, you'd be dishonest. His words have been looping in your mind endlessly, leaving you utterly confused by the cruelty of his remarks.

You always held the belief that Neteyam was meant to be kinder, and you know deep down it's true. You had witnessed his acts of kindness firsthand on certain occasions, though they were never directed towards you. It's possible they may never be.

Jake comes to an abrupt halt, nearly causing you to collide into his back. You manage to catch yourself just in time, swiftly collecting your composure, not wanting to appear unprepared in front of your future leader.

"Before you can hunt, you need to learn how to find prey," Jake declares, locking eyes with you. He motions for you to crouch down, directing your attention to a distinct imprint in the muddy ground.

It's a clear and well-defined Hexapede print, unmistakable in its form. "Remember this," he emphasizes, "yerik will be your first target on the hunt."

You lower yourself closer to the ground, studying the yerik print as instructed by Jake. The imprinted shape stands out, each indentation marking the presence of the elusive creature you are about to pursue.

Its importance sinks deep into your mind as you commit the image to memory, determined to make this initial lesson worth it.

Rising from your crouched position, you maintain a low stance as Jake leads the way, offering further guidance on how to locate and track your prey.

Your concentration remains unwavering as you mimic his every movement, determined not to let your mind wander or be swayed by distractions.

Being fully present in the moment is crucial, allowing you to absorb the teachings imparted and sharpen your skills as you strive to become a skilled hunter.

After a while of trailing Jake through the forest, you both reach a clearing similar of the one where you encountered the Titanothere, albeit smaller and more densely covered in foliage. However, this time, there is no massive creature in sight.

Instead, concealed amidst the greenery, you catch a fleeting glimpse of yerik young—smaller and not yet mature enough to be considered adults.

It's an easy detail to miss if you blink, but you manage to spot them. The discovery fills you with excitement at this being the second animal you’ve come to witness since being reborn.

"They're beautiful," you comment, swiftly and stealthily moving to gain better access for observing the yerik young meeting up with their parent. The sight fills you with warmth but also sadness.

You don't consider yourself as very insightful when it comes to your own feelings, but if you had to guess, it would be because you lack what those animals have.

Despite undergoing changes on the outside, everything else remains unchanged within you and around you.

Gazing away from the prey, your eyes shift towards Jake. While not a parental figure, you held him in close regard lately, yet that sentiment fell short.

His family, undoubtedly, held the greatest significance to him. The question lingered: Why did he invest his time in you? It was a thought you wrestled with, more than you'd care to admit.

"What’s on your mind, kid?" Jake inquire, fixing his gaze upon you, revealing that your concentration had wavered during your training session.

Swiftly, your eyes divert to the ground, pressing your ears flat against your head from anxiety. The last thing you wanted was to become the one who disappointed the Leader of the Omaticaya, yet it seemed all too effortless, “I’m sorry.” you mumble.

Jake's nostrils flare in a sigh, a momentary glance away as he searches for the appropriate words to navigate this circumstance.

Despite his own responsibilities as a father of four children and the weight of an entire village on his shoulders, he recognizes that you mirrored him in some ways, sharing similarities despite the minor differences.

Even though he knew it didn’t quite make sense, he still felt responsible for you. Maybe a little part of him pushed him to care, even if he wasn’t sure why. But what he did know was that you needed support now more than ever.

He had seen you struggling, dealing with tough challenges. Your determination reminded him of his own past. It was like things had come full circle, giving him a chance to help someone who understood his earlier struggles.

Jake took a deep breath and came closer, looking at you with understanding, “You didn’t do anything wrong,” he reassures you in a calm tone, “You can finally live the way you’ve always felt. Sure, I might have disagreed with your risky adventure, but in the end, you’ve learned an important lesson.”

Your lips forms a thin line as you look up at him, your confusion evident in your eyes. He let out a chuckle, shaking his head. His hand moved towards your head, but you intercepted it before he could mess up your hair again.

“Try not to listen to Lo’ak,” he advises firmly, standing up and retracing the path you had taken. You watch him for a moment, taken aback by this unfamiliar characteristic of Jake that you hadn’t seen before.

Eventually, a smile tugs at your lips, and you follow him back to camp, amused by the newfound side of him.

Over the past few weeks, this had become your routine. Jake would guide you along the same route, until you were as familiar with the hexapede's usual spot as the back of your hand.

Despite the initial difficulty of waking up earlier in the morning rather than at noon, your newfound purpose made it worthwhile – you were now driven by something worth fighting for.

The time has come for you to showcase what you have learned, and your nerves feel like they're on fire. Your heart hasn't beaten this fast before, not even when you took your first breath as a baby.

You are aware that a lot hangs over you as Jake blesses your departure for the hunt—even things that cannot be spoken into words.

Your jaws clench as you glance at the gathering crowd. Though not everyone likes you, they show up out of respect for tradition and their chief.

Your body tenses up as your eyes lock with the Sullys, each of their expressions differing from the next.

Neytiri holds her nose up, her eyes steely as she watches you with disapproval. Neteyam doesn't look upset like he did when he scolded you so harshly; his face is neutral—unreadable, and you're not sure if you like this better than when he was expressive.

Lo'ak looks stiff, his eyes focused on you. If you didn't know him, you'd think there was nothing wrong, but the flicking of his tail tells you he's anxious. You send him a subtle smile, earning a curt nod.

Your eyes finally land on Kiri. Unlike Lo'ak, you know she's nervous. Based on the frown on her face, the furrow of her brows, and the way she's twisting her tail in her hands, perhaps she's even more nervous than you are.

Kiri shoots you a faint smile, and you return it with a warmer one, hoping it provides the comfort she's seeking. Jake lets you know it's time to go, expressing his wish that you'll make it back by nightfall.

Resisting the urge to glance back, you wonder why the moment feels oddly sentimental. You can't claim to enjoy it, yet you don't despise it either. Despite their potential lack of strong feelings towards you, you feel acknowledged and seen.

Once this is over, they'll have no other choice but to recognize the unwavering efforts you've invested in building connections. It will dawn on them that they must learn to live harmoniously with you.

No matter how frequently they emphasize your demon-like qualities, regardless of your altered appearance, they'll eventually have to come to terms with coexisting alongside what they consider an abomination.

It all becomes muscle memory as you navigate the forest to your advantage. Tracking the prints of your prey feels much simpler now that you have a clear understanding of what to look for.

Making your way through the foliage and over uneven ground takes less time than you recall. Even the weight of your bow on your back and the pressure of your hunting knife tucked into your waist band felt comfortable—like you were in your element, in your home.

At the beginning of the hunt, your heart raced, but now, seamlessly blending into your surroundings, your eyes effortlessly spot your prey. A calm washes over you, reminiscent of the sea before a storm.

The impending tempest is mirrored in the skilled grip of the bow, its aim steady as you target the adult yerik that has strayed from its herd. The creature halts, almost as if aware that a battle for survival is about to unfold.

The motion is almost effortless as the bowstring propels forward, propelling the arrow through the air, slicing through the trees, and striking its target with precision. The creature collapses instantaneously, succumbing to a single, well-placed shot.

Was it wrong to be exhilarated that your first kill went perfectly? Especially knowing that the yerik are challenging to take down due to their speed and are just as deadly as any other creatures on this planet?

Yes, it was wrong. You took a life that has now returned to Eywa. But it was a merciful act—you made certain of its passing by tracking it down and confirming its end.

Placing your hand over its chest, above its heart, you begin your prayer: “I See You, Brother, and thank you. Your spirit departs with Eywa, while your body remains to join the People.”

You place your bow back on your back, gripping the arrow and ripping it out, pausing as you caress it, before unshielding your hunting knife.

You secure your bow onto your back before firmly grasping the arrow and extracting it. You pause, briefly caressing the yerik, and then proceed to take the vine wrapped around you off, to tie the yerik ready for transporting.

Once the vine is secure, the trip back to hometree becomes more time-consuming, possibly due to the added weight you're dragging along. As day transitions into night, you alter your strategy.

You untie the yerik and muster the strength to hoist it onto your shoulders. Swiftly, you wrap vines around it, determined not to let it slip, no matter the strain it has on your shoulders.

The sight of highcamp threshold spurs you to increase your pace, your heart quickening with anticipation for everyone’s reaction. Will it be a positive one? Or perhaps the opposite? Did you fail, or does it even truly matter in the end?

Walking past the threshold, you weren't exactly taken aback by the noticeably smaller crowd. You understand their reasoning, more then they probably can. However, the sight of those who remained brought you enough happiness to validate your decision in the first place.

Relief washes over Lo’ak’s, Kiri's and Spider faces as they spot you, hurrying over to join you and assist with the carcass. Tuk follows closely behind, evidently delighted to be present for this moment. Jake stands back, wearing a proud smile alongside Max and Norm.

However, what catches you off guard is Neytiri's presence. She gazes at you before turning her attention to the prey you've brought. Her lips pucker slightly, and she raises her head in a subtle nod, so understated that you almost overlook it.

That…that was a start.

"You did well," Kiri whispers, a smile lighting up her face as she crouches beside you. "I had faith in you."

Her steadfast faith in you fills you with warmth. In moments like these, you realize that you may not need the full acceptance of an entire village or species; the trust she bestows upon you could be sufficient.

Nonetheless, you were still considered a demon, and historically, demons were often characterized as being driven by greed.

Did you not deserve to feel a touch of greed after all the solemn years you’ve endured? Those who haven’t lived a single moment in your shoes have no right to expect you to be content so easily.

Yes, you are grateful for what’s been given, but you’re not satisfied. You’ll never be satisfied—not until they truly see you.

"Was it hard?" Spider questions, his gaze fixed on the unusually large prey you've brought back. He's curious about the level of difficulty it presented, given your infrequent solo hunting expeditions.

You shake your head, and with a slight roll of your shoulders to relieve the tension, you admit, "The only challenge was lugging it back. My approach wasn't the wisest, I confess."

"Are you hurt?" Lo'ak finally speaks up after a while, standing behind you and staring down at the side of your face with knitted brows. He struggles to keep his eyes from scanning you to find the source of the injury but manages to resist the temptation.

“Not in the way you may be thinking.”

"I think you should still visit grandma," Tuk murmurs, gazing up at you with wide, innocent eyes. Concern lingers on her face before transforming into a smile, "I'll come along!" she exclaims joyfully, taking hold of your hand and guiding you in the direction of Mo’at’s hut.

"Hey, hang on a moment, Tuk!" Kiri calls out, but she resigns herself to Tuk's eager pull, adding, "Just be cautious on your way!"

If you were still human, Tuk would have worn you out straight to death with the way she dragged you through the village, proudly showcasing you in her unique manner. However, you were no longer human.

You can easily keep pace, dare you say even more adeptly than a native Na'vi like herself, and yet you let her do as she pleases. Even if it was somewhat embarrassing to have all the eyes in the village on you, drawn to Tuk's infectious laughter and vibrant personality.

“Oh, Nete!!”

You want to say it's Tuk's voice that brings you back to the present, that it helps you escape the thoughts that consume you even when you least expect it, but it's not.

You're ashamed to admit it's his very name that centers you.

You mentally pray that he won't notice you, hoping you can become as small as Tuk is when she stops him from whatever he was on his way to do.

Your body instinctively contracts slightly when that prayer fails, and your voice deserts you as his eyes automatically meet yours.

It feels too soon, seeing him like this. The wound is still raw, with no time to properly heal. You quickly avert your eyes, your lips pressed tightly together as you make an effort to send your mind far away once again.

What could be going through Tuk's mind? Has she forgotten what occurred? Is this what they refer to as the innocence and ignorance of a child?

"Nete! You should've seen it! (Nickname) brought back a big kill," Tuk exclaims, clearly placing you on a pedestal. Perhaps, her expectations are set a bit too high.

And telling him wouldn't provoke any reaction; it's clear that he doesn't care about you, despite the lingering feelings you regretfully still hold for him.

Neteyam, who briefly shifted his focus to his sister when you averted your gaze from him, is now returning his attention to you.

You couldn't see it, as it was still too nerve-wracking, but you could feel it. The same steely gaze you experienced during all those hours of training with him—it's no different now. They show no emotion when they look at you.

Yet, the stare doesn't linger on your face.

It travels downward—to your neck, shoulders, arms, legs, and any exposed skin. It's swift, merely skimming over your body, evaluating you—perhaps even doubting your ability to accomplish what Tuk claimed you did.

It was undeniably swift, and yet it left you feeling vulnerable. It was a new development, something you hadn't noticed him do before—at least, not so directly or unabashedly in your presence. You were uncertain about your feelings toward it—no, that's not entirely true.

You did appreciate it; after all, his attention was on you. But it was for an uncertain reason, so you couldn't fully indulge in the satisfaction it brought.

‘Ugh. What am I saying? Stop, Stop—Stop it!’

"Where are you heading, Tuk?" Neteyam inquires after a significant pause, shifting his attention away from you to focus on his sister.

With his gaze no longer fixated on you, you sneak a glance at them through your peripheral vision, only to catch him flashing an innocent smile at her.

How can this be the same person who belittled you in front of his family?

“To visit Grandma. (Nickname) is hurt,” Tuk replies promptly, without hesitation.

Tuk's words hang in the air, and Neteyam falls into a heavy silence. His smile fades, replaced by a sharpness in his eyes as his eyes widen slightly.

For the third time in mere minutes, his gaze lands squarely on you. His brows furrow deeply, and his eyes race over your form with an intensity that borders on concern.

Is it possible? Could that be genuine worry in his eyes? You can't be certain; you've never seen him show any concern directed your way before.

“What—I don—“

Tuk abruptly cuts him off, saying, "We've got to go. Bye, Nete!" She firmly grips your hand and starts pulling you away. As you pass Neteyam, it's as if time stretches, your gaze locked with his—him making the deliberate effort to turn his head and follow your departure.

You're the first to break eye contact, averting your gaze and taking a deep breath as if you had forgotten to breathe. You're relieved when Tuk cuts the interaction short; you doubt your ability to decipher all the unusual actions that Neteyam was displaying.

And you shouldn't want to. He's hurt you deeply, and it's not justified, no matter how much he believes he's in the right. You should not, definitely not, feel anything for him.

You force your attention back into focus, your eyes fixed on Mo'at's hut just a few feet away. The nerves are creeping back up again, but it's different from how they are when it comes to him.

No, it's a distinct feeling. It has always been different with Mo'at, much like the way you feel unlimited joy with Kiri as opposed to a handful with Spider.

Mo'at is somewhat supportive. She sees potential in you, and she holds you to high standards; otherwise, she wouldn't even bother with you. So, yes, it's natural to feel nervous about seeing her after your first solo hunt.

What will she say?

How will she react?

Will she share in your pride as you take a step closer to a dream you've longed for on countless nights?

Her opinion matters to you, perhaps even more than anyone else’s. She could have easily abandoned you to live a lonely and sorrowful life, but instead, she chose to collaborate with the humans, the very same species that took her mate’s life, all to aid you. In a way, you owe her your life as she helped you transfer over.

In a strange, twisted way, you view her as a motherly figure. And like any child, it's second nature to want to please someone you look up to. In that respect, you were no different.

The scent of herbs and spices greets your nose as Tuk leads you into Mo'at's hut. She releases your hand and skips over to her grandmother, who is seated on the floor in the center, tending to various medicinal remedies.

"Grandma! Guess who's returned?" Tuk exclaims in a whispered shout, settling down beside her grandmother and grinning broadly.

Mo'at pauses, pretending to contemplate before turning to Tuk with an expectant look. "You, my child?" Mo'at playfully questions.

Tuk giggles at her grandmother's reply, shaking her head, and then she turns to point at you. "No, not me," she clarifies, "It's (Nickname) who's back, and she's brought back a large catch."

Mo'at's nose tilts slightly upward as she follows Tuk's arm, her gaze settling on you. You stand there tensely as her heated eyes seem to fixate on you.

The way her eyes scan over you reminds you of Neytiri, but unlike Neytiri, Mo'at's eyes don't hold any malicious emotion when it comes to you. Instead, she just has a intense gaze.

"Are you injured?" Mo'at questions, her eyes fixed on your shoulders, brows furrowing as she interprets your body language before you even have a chance to explain your presence.

You nod, finding no reason to be untruthful, especially now that she has observed it herself, "Just a little sore. Nothing too painful," you confirm honestly. It's nothing more than a strained muscle, and you believe a warm bath could help relieve it.

Mo'at hums and rises from her seated position, "Still, sit down. I'll tend to you," she instructs before walking over to a shelf. With her back turned to you, she speaks to Tuk, "Why don't you go, my child? I have something important to discuss with (Name)."

She didn't need to turn around to sense that Tuk's smile had faded, replaced by a pout. "But—" Tuk begins, but then sighs, realizing deep down that reasoning wouldn't work, "Oh, alright." She stands up and moves over to you, giving you a tight hug before darting out of the hut.

You glance from the hut's entrance back to Mo’at, who is still gathering materials. Then, you make your way deeper inside, taking a seat at the same table she occupied earlier.

You wait patiently for her return, although the restless movement of your clammy hands and your darting eyes might suggest otherwise.

Finally, she returns to your side, walking past you to crouch behind you. "Remove your top," Mo’at instructs firmly, prompting you to scramble to comply. She adds, observing your struggle, "It would be simpler if you were dressed in Na'vi."

Not this again.

"If I complete my rite of passage, I will consider it," you respond, growing exasperated as she raises this topic once again.

You flinch at the sensation of something cold touching your skin but gradually relax as it warms, "When you complete it. Yes, remind me," Mo’at sighs. "How is your progress?"

A smile spreads across your face as you reflect on your achievement earlier in the day, "Well, I believe I have completed my hunting just moments ago," you proudly announce.

"And?" Mo’at prompts you to continue as she applies more ointment.

"As Tuk has mentioned, I brought back a worthy catch."

Mo’at sets the ointment down and begins to wrap your shoulders with foliage. "Good," she chimes, "Your journey is beginning, and the timing is right."

You turn your head to look at her, confusion evident in your eyes as you ponder her words. "What do you mean?" you ask, genuinely puzzled.

Mo’at taps the foliage, testing its stability, and then gazes into your eyes with utmost seriousness. "I have a task for you," she states, "A task meant for you alone."

Her words and the intensity of her gaze make it clear that whatever she is asking is of great importance. But you can't help but wonder why she's choosing you for this.

"What kind of task?" you inquire, your curiosity getting the better of you.

Mo’at steps away from you, picking up the ointment and walking back to the shelf to store it. "Once you complete your passage and become one of our people," she begins, "you will represent us when you journey to the eastern village."

A slight pang in your chest makes you wonder if she's also eager to be rid of you, but it doesn't make much sense why she'd wait until after your rites.

"Why would I go there?" you nervously ask, torn between wanting to know the answer and fearing it.

Mo’at looks back at you, her lips pursed as if processing your question as if it's foreign to her, “There is a need for a healer," she replies matter-of-factly.

Excuse you, what?

"I'm not a healer!" you hastily respond, pulling your shirt over your head and rising to your full height, "How could I even be of assistance?"

Mo’at clicks her tongue in disapproval, "You will help, mend what the sky people have done," she asserts, her voice taking on a heavy, cutting tone that contrasts with her eyes, which hold sadness and softness.

Your bottom lip quivers, a whirlwind of emotions threatening to overpower you—anger, sadness, hurt, all of them negative. Once again, you find yourself being compared to the sky people, just as you feared.

What did you expect, really?

What were your true expectations?

You couldn't find a reason for having to do this, and you doubt Mo’at would explain it even if you asked. You can only hope that you'll understand it by the end of your rites, so you can stop feeling this way because of the person you hold in such high regard.

The only response you can muster is a firm nod, and then you pivot on your heel, rushing out of the hut before she can witness the tears that are on the verge of spilling from your eyes.

This wasn't like you. You had never been this soft, not even when you struggled to survive before now. It wasn't until... until that incident with Sully hut that you started to wear your heart on your sleeve, rather than keeping it guarded.

It was since then that you had felt more vulnerable than ever before.

Blinded by your emotions, you failed to pay attention to your surroundings, and it was too late when you collided with a sturdy wall—no, a sturdy person.

You wipe your eyes as you take a step back, staring up at the individual you bumped into, feeling disappointed and even more upset when you realize it's the last person you would want to see right now.

Why is he here standing outside the healing hut?

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[sephirthoughts]

Vincent's New Kid Just Dropped CH 11: Present Day With Short Deepground Flashback

NOTE: It's not a time skip in the Deepground section, it's just to frame Nero's physical trauma more. All that story is still going to be told!

Rating: Mature

WARNINGS: torture, captivity, phantom pain, PTSD

NOW WITH @siringadev's beautiful father-son art!

⚰️🕷️

father and son trying to out-edgelord each other but who is winning

it's vincent

After the Restrictor came, and they implanted those chips in everyone, they sedated Nero and carried him to a dark, cavernous place, in the lowest sub-level of Deepground. Industrial power tools whirred and shrieked. He awoke feeling the vibrations in his skull. 

Men were locking heavy shackles onto his wings, at six points. The shackles, they attached to the type of chains that are used for boat anchors; made of iron and as thick as a man’s arm. The chains were hung through huge, steel rings, bolted to a massive support pillar, and hooked up to a construction winch, on the other side. 

The Restrictor turned the winch and drew the chains tighter and tighter, laughing while the teenaged boy screamed in agony, pulling Nero’s wings higher and spreading them wider apart, till his shoulder blades felt like they were about to be dislocated, and his feet couldn’t properly rest on the ground. 

That was the position he was locked in. Splayed against the gigantic support pillar, like a butterfly pinned to a display board. Muzzled and bound in a straitjacket. Chained by his wings, to the literal foundation of Deepground. 

The only way to relieve the pain of bearing his weight on his wings, was to push himself up on tip-toe. He could only do that for so long, before his legs began to tremble with fatigue. Try as he might, his strength would eventually fail, and his legs give out. Then his wings would catch his full weight, and he would scream in agony again. 

The Restrictor often lingered nearby, watching him go through this process, drinking in the boy’s tormented groans and cries of distress, with lascivious glee. But he also observed the boy growing stronger and stronger…and more dangerous.

Nero curled up, as the lightning bolts of pain racked his body again, mouth hanging open, a clear stream drool running out onto the floor. Where was his muzzle? Where was his straitjacket? He’d had some kind of cotton jersey shirt on his top half, but he had clawed and torn it to shreds, and it now lay in a purple pile on the floor.

He heard a noise behind him, but he didn’t have time to work out what it was, before he felt the darkness react to something, like a dog jumping in excitement, when its master walks in the door. Weiss! It must be Weiss! he thought, deliriously. Tears of joy leaked from the sides of his eyes, even as they were squeezed shut against the pain. 

“W—Weiss…” he rasped, as the darkness reached out toward his beloved. His only one.

He was hauled up to a sitting position, and strong arms wrapped around him from behind, like bands of iron, compressing his crossed arms on his chest, in that familiar position. He was pressed tight against a stone-hard body and lifted to his feet, but…something was wrong. The darkness was curling happily around the person, but making no connection. Not Weiss! his mind screamed.

Enraged, Nero gave his lithe torso a sudden twist, like a snake, trying to wrench himself free, but the arms held him fast. “What the fuck!”

“Calm down,” a smooth, deep voice said, right in his ear. “You’ll hurt yourself.”

“Fuck you! Let me go!” he snarled, thrashing harder, still to no observable effect.

Vincent sighed. “Nero, I know you’re in pain. Let me help—”

“I don’t need your help you bastard!” he roared, kicking his legs, trying to throw this human monolith off balance. He may as well have struggled against the planet itself, for all the man moved. Panting and shaking with fatigue, from even that brief effort, he gave up and hung limply in Vincent’s arms. “I h—I hate you. Fucking die.”

“I can’t.”  

As Vincent said this, the room exploded into a whirling, crimson blur, and suddenly, they were atop the roof of the house. Nero’s bare feet stood on the sandy grit of the roof tiles, and blowing wind brought the scent of rain, from the rolling, grey storm clouds, that were obscuring the moon. 

“What the hell are you doing?” he asked, in real bewilderment. 

“I think I can help, with your pain,” a rasping, resonant, entirely demonic voice answered. “But I can’t try it inside the house. My wings are too big.”

Chaos. The demon’s familiar aura sent shivers of elation up Nero’s spine and made him sick to his stomach, at the same time. He felt bloodthirsty, resentful, filled with rage and grief and underneath it all, a deep, hollow ache. A longing as fathomless as the abyss.

“How do you know I’m in pain?” 

“Sephiroth explained, after you went upstairs.”

“Can he ever mind his own business?” Nero grumbled, under his breath.

Acting entirely without his input, Nero’s darkness tendrils suddenly burst out of the black markings all over his body and plunged directly into Chaos, connecting them, like it was plugging him into a power source. 

Horrified, Nero tried to make them come back, but his knees buckled and his vision went blank, just then, his brain shorted out by the sudden exposure to unfiltered Chaos energy. 

When his vision returned, the demon was still holding him, the same way—Nero’s arms restrained in straitjacket position, and his bare back pressed to its midsection—steadying him on his feet, so he didn’t fall off the roof. 

He was trying work out what the hell Chaos was playing at, when he felt it. A dizzying rush of relief, pouring in through the wing brackets on his shoulder blades and coursing through his body. Lack of pain so potent, it was ten times more intoxicating than the headiest pleasure. 

Involuntarily, Nero’s head dropped back onto Chaos’ chest and he gave a shuddering moan, as he began to unfurl the demon’s huge, membranous wings, slowly and stiffly, spreading them as wide as they could go. 

Tears poured unchecked down his ashen face, weeping openly, as he stretched and folded the wings on the demon’s back, savoring every movement, feeling the contorted phantom segments straightening out, the excruciating knots loosening, the throbbing tautness unwinding. 

Nero’s body now felt relaxed and comfortable, being held tightly in Chaos’ arms. Actually, he hadn’t felt this good since…well, in a long time. Now that they believed everything was back as it was supposed to be, the formerly tormented nerves were humming with vitality. Suddenly, the urge to use the wings he’d missed so sorely, was so strong he could taste it.

Nero’s own wings had nothing to do with his ability to defy gravity, so it was something of a shock to him, when he gave Chaos’ wings an exploratory flap, and the two rocketed into the air. 

He jolted and cried out in alarm, as the ground fell away and the rooftop shrank below them at a dizzying speed. Chaos, however, appeared patently unconcerned, only taking control to give his wings a few beats (to stop them plummeting directly back out of the sky, and to gain some height for safety reasons), then returning control to Nero. 

Nero wasn’t afraid of heights in the least, but he didn’t particularly want to smack into the earth like a meteor, so he scrambled to flap the massive wings. With an effort, he got them under good enough control to keep aloft, then gingerly began to try changing direction. 

He was uncoordinated, and kept going awkwardly off kilter. They tumbled and veered multiple times, before he actually began to get the hang of it. But by the time half an hour had passed, Nero was able to fly in relatively steady circles, above the Valentine-Highwind property.  

All this time, not a single word passed between himself and the ancient demon, whose body he was essentially sharing, at the moment, but at times he could feel its wordless intent, guiding him. Spread. Glide. Tuck. Bank left. More thrust on the right. 

It occurred to him, with a series of complicated emotions, that his father was teaching him to fly. Just like a real father teaching his real son to ride a bicycle. Patiently and calmly, ready to catch him, if he fell. He felt something deep inside him, begin to crack. 

Nero, being Nero, bridled and balked. Furious with himself, for being so soft and stupid, and letting himself be taken in so easily, he sullenly withdrew his control from the wings and let them fall, till Chaos lazily caught them and swooped back upward, with effortless elegance, as if it were no more difficult than breathing. 

That drew Nero right back out of his morose ruminations. He had thought he’d been doing well, but he clearly had no idea what flying even was. Chaos used far fewer wing beats to achieve the same height and speed, and seemed to be exerting ten times less effort. What the hell? How was it that much different to what he’d been doing?

Spinning like a corkscrew, the demon rapidly ascended, higher and higher, till they emerged from the storm cover in the clear, black sky, where the air became thin and icy-cold, and the the moon shone pure and bright over the sea of clouds. 

Nero was staring in undisguised awe at the tens of thousands of glittering stars, when Chaos tucked his wings tightly against his body and dropped abruptly into a freefall. Nero’s stomach flipped and he had to choke down a cry. They fell faster and faster, the wind beating furiously at his face, making his eyes tear up, as they plunged back into the grey clouds, plummeting earthward at terminal velocity.

Just above the treeline, Chaos extended his wings partway and used the downward momentum to shoot forward like a bullet, speeding over the blurred tops of the trees. 

As if on cue, thunder rolled and lighting crackled, as the heavy clouds burst, at last. The cold water droplets lashed Nero’s face and his bare torso, as they flew at that logic-defying speed, but he was actually rather thrilled by it. He wasn’t bothered by cold, and he’d never felt rain before. 

Apparently sensing that the weather didn’t trouble his passenger, Chaos kept going, soaring nonchalantly through blinding sheets of rain, doing spectacular loops and dizzying barrel rolls, throwing off spirals of water as they went. 

Nero had to force down the swell of mirth, that bubbled up in his chest, at the idea of this apocalyptic demon playing around in the rain, to amuse itself. Chaos was having fun, and it showed. If he could have admitted it, without gagging to death, so was Nero.

More than two hours evaporated, and soon they were circling back around toward home—er…toward the Valentine-Highwind house. When they got in close, rather than landing, Chaos did that teleportation thing with the whirling crimson, and they were simply standing in Nero’s room. 

Nero hadn’t got his sea legs yet, and turned around unsteadily to blink up at Chaos, who was Vincent again, in his slashed up black jeans and crimson henley, with that stupid headband, as usual. He was also perfectly dry, as opposed to Nero, who was soaking wet, from head to toe, black hair pasted to his white forehead, and quickly creating a puddle, on the wood floor. 

Conveniently, Sephiroth (because the world had gone thoroughly insane, and the hero of Wutai was now some kind of super-housewife) had left folded bath towels on the dresser, and put the fresh linens on the bed, while they were out.

Before Nero could say anything, Vincent picked up an oversized bath towel and spread it open, holding it up between them, like a privacy screen. Not quite understanding the prudishness of the gesture, Nero peeled off his soaking wet jeans and underwear, then let Vincent wrap the plushy towel around him. 

He still had no idea how to process what happened, tonight. No idea what it meant, or how to react. So he just stood there, dazed, while his father carefully rubbed his long hair, with the other towel. 

Fatigue settled on him, with the warmth and the weight of the gentle touch. Now that the pain was alleviated, he was exhausted, down to his bones. Without realizing it, his eyes drooped shut, and his head began to tip forward, by degrees, till it was resting against Vincent’s chest. 

Darkness tendrils slithered out of the black markings, all over his naked body, and coiled themselves around Vincent’s arms and waist and neck, like affectionate boa constrictors. If they could purr, they would have, fucking embarrassing things.

“Nero.”

“Mm?”

“The next time you’re in pain, don’t wait for it to become unbearable. Come to me, and I’ll help you.”

…

“Mn.”

THE AUTHOR HAS SOMETHING TO SAY:

nero the wet cat: *HISSSS GRRR HISSSSS* cat dad vincent: *pats dry with towel* nero the dry cat: …. *purr*

LINK TO NEXT CHAPTER:

[it-happened-one-fic]

Hours in the Moonlight: Guileful Nightfall - 14. Power and Control

Summary: Unfortunately tracking down the rogue vampire meant one thing. Fighting the rogue vampire. And while you had help present, it was quite possible that they’d just end up making things more difficult. Especially since you still had Jamil and his issues to deal with.

Series Type: Gender-neutral reader/ Vampire AU/ series/ romantic/ angst/ angst with comfort/ fluff/ sfw/ platonic interactions too!

Trigger Warning: Vampire

Word Count: 2370

Hours in the Moonlight Master-List

Jamil came to a swift halt, letting me down as he scanned the area. I half stumbled around him, looking for Leona as my ears strained to pick up any sounds.

After a brief moment of silence, I glanced over at Jamil only to see him already staring at me as I shifted the strap of my bag. And I knew exactly what he was doing. He was waiting to see what I was going to do so he could plan his own moves accordingly.

I felt my eyebrows arch at him before I glanced down, unzipping my bag and pulling out my crossbow. I loaded it with a single stake before starting off into the shadowed building and leaving him to follow me.

He let out a sigh from behind me but followed nonetheless. Glancing around as we continued forwards before he tensed, shifting in front of me seconds before I heard it. A hissing snarl followed by the sounds of something slamming into something else.

“Sounds like your friend found the vampire,” Jamil’s voice was low as he glanced my way with one arched brow. Waiting to see how I would react and what I would do.

I merely nodded, meeting his gaze with a wholly unsurprised expression, “Sounds like it.”

With only those words, I trotted forward, using the concrete pillars as shields. Jamil followed along beside me before giving me a slight glance with a raised eyebrow and zipping forward.

I leaned around the pillar I was currently pressed against in time to see him slam into a vampire. I blinked in slight surprise, because I genuinely hadn’t expected for him to be the type to outright attack, but then I felt myself frown as I started looking around. Because despite what we’d heard, Leona was nowhere to be seen. 

He had to be here somewhere, though.

No sooner than I’d had that thought, the man himself had emerged from the shadows, his eyes staying on the fight before they flashed over my way. Finding me immediately in the darkness before he nodded.

I frowned, but nodded in return. Evidently enough, there was no getting around the typical handling of this vampire. And judging from the concrete dust coating Leona’s person, he’d certainly tried to deal with this one.

I raised my crossbow, aiming carefully, and feeling my frown deepen the longer I tried to aim. Because there was absolutely no way I could hit the vampire with Jamil where he was. 

I lowered my crossbow once more. Yelling would get Jamil to move, but would also alert the vampire to my location. But… Beggars couldn’t be choosers.

“JAMIL!” The young man whirled at my shout, leaping away from the rogue vampire, who also spun to look at me. Its eyes wide with insane excitement as they landed on me all too quickly as a twisted grin stretched across its face.

I jerked my crossbow back up, firing as quickly as possible before turning and running as the vampire dove towards both me and the stake flying through the air. Jamil and Leona hot on its heels.

I heard it let out something akin to a gasp and looked back to see the stake sticking out of it’s shoulder from where it had jerked out the way at the last second.

It stared at it, a trembling hand reaching towards the wood that stuck out of its shoulder before stopping mere inches from the stake.

I grimaced as its eyes snapped back up to where I stood, a grin creeping back into its face as it inhaled like an excitable monster. Its fangs glinting in the dim light provided by the parking deck’s broken, flashing lights.

I shifted though, bracing myself as I shoved a secondary stake into my crossbow and aimed.

It dove forward as I fired, willing my hands not to tremble. 

Simultaneously, Jamil and Leona launched themselves. Jamil reaching for the other vampire as Leona dove after him with an annoyed sound. 

And I almost dropped the crossbow as I realized what might happen. 

I could only hope Leona would stop Jamil before he reached the vampire or that Jamil would be just slow enough. After all, those stakes typically went all the way through, and if Jamil was holding onto the vampire….

The stake flew through the air, slamming into its target unforgivingly as Jamil was yanked to an abrupt stop by Leona.

My eyes widened as the vampire continued forward, though, and I all but had to throw myself to the side, landing hard against my bag on the ground in a way that I was confident would leave bruises. And I was just barely in time to miss the vampire barrelling through where I’d been standing.

I stared at it though. Unable to tear my eyes away as I watched as its grimy-looking hands curl around the stake like it wanted to grasp the wood before its motions aborted and it crumpled towards the ground with an agonized sound. 

I could clearly see Jamil’s unnerved expression as the vampire fell in a pile of ashes and the two stakes hit the ground between us with dull thudding sounds, and I exhaled. Letting out the breath I hadn’t known I’d been holding.

Leona let go of Jamil's collar. All but shoving the smaller man away as he practically growled at him, “Maybe trust the head-vampire’s Hunter next time and stay out of the way?”

Jamil stumbled slightly, shooting a look at Leona before looking my way.

And somehow Jamil’s expression alone told me his perception of me had just shifted. Because even if I hadn’t realized it until now, Jamil had previously been regarding me as someone he could easily control. Someone who wasn’t a grand threat but a person to be wary of.

Now though… Now he looked at me with something akin to respect, and I felt myself swallow thickly. 

Leona watched him, something akin to annoyance splaying across his face until he looked at me with a huff. Shattering the silence that stretched uncomfortably between us all like it was nothing at all, “I’ll tell my clan’s head about what happened.”

Jamil blinked before he turned, inclining his head to Leona as the other man turned. Getting ready to leave in that characteristic nonchalant fashion of his as he completely ignored Jamil.

 I still wondered how Leona could be so unbothered by seeing vampires get killed right in front of him. But at least this time it had gone over smoother than it had last time.

“Thank you for the assistance,” Leona’s eyebrows rose at the other man’s carefully deferent words before he snorted.

He looked at me with a slight smirk appearing on his face, “Just a bit of quid pro quo.” I frowned slightly at his words, knowing perfectly well what he meant. Our deal.

But even with his mocking sarcasm, I couldn’t deny that I did trust him far more than I did Jamil. 

Me and Leona had a working relationship. Me and Jamil…. It felt like there was mutual wariness here now. A tug of war with him trying to exert more control while I reeled back to maintain power over my own choices.

I stopped the leonine vampire as he started by me, meeting his gaze as I spoke with a faint smile, “Tell Jack and Ruggie I said hi.”

 He snorted slightly at my words before leaning down, his voice lowering to the point where I doubted Jamil could hear him, “You gonna be alright?”

His words caught me off guard, and I felt my eyes widen before I nodded and let go of his arm, murmuring a soft ‘Yeah’ as I broke eye contact with him. Half-surprised by his words and wondering if I should take them as genuine concern.

After all, I didn’t know how else I should interpret them, but I'd hardly expected such a thing from Leona. 

His eyes stayed on me for a brief moment longer, like he was weighing my words before he nodded and turned to leave. Disappearing into the night flawlessly. 

Just like a predator hiding itself in the name of a hunt.

I exhaled slightly before I looked towards Jamil, who was watching me once more and had been since I’d stopped Leona.

And I was already steeling myself for what came next. Because in light of everything that had just happened, it was time. I was going to finally confront him. I had to if I was ever going to be done with the Scarabia clan. And while I had no problems with Kalim, I was tired of this eternal game of power and control.

I walked over, first collecting the stakes and shoving them back into my bag along with my crossbow before I looked up at the young man who stood directly in front of me and now looked down at where I knelt.

There was risk in making eye contact with him. I knew that. But if I was going to assert that he couldn’t control me, then this was going to be the best way.

“I think it’s time we talked about something, don’t you?” I straightened as I spoke, shouldering my bag and holding his gaze all the while.

Jamil crossed his arms, tilting his head slightly as he gazed back at me, almost like he was sizing me up once more. Seeing if he’d missed anything in his previous evaluations.

He was a cautious man, seemingly well prepared for things, and someone a person could rely on if they could trust him. But, as of right now, that seemed like it was a pretty big if.

“Why did you hypnotize me into staying on my first day at the Scarabia clan?” If he was surprised by my words, it didn’t show on his face.

Rather, a grin spread across his face, and I suddenly felt like I was seeing the real Jamil. One that was no longer restrained by the careful mask he usually wore.

“So you did know about that,” He didn’t sound annoyed in the slightest. No, he sounded more like he was pleased to have been correct. His eyebrows rose though as he shifted slightly, “It was a precaution, that’s all.”

I frowned at his words, not trusting them for a second, “A precaution against what? It just made the Scarabia clan more suspicious.”

He leaned towards me, eyes glimmering with something when I stubbornly didn’t lean away or avert my gaze, “You still thought we were innocent though.”

“That was because of Kalim. Not you.” My tone was flat, and a frown flickered across his face that had my eyebrows arching, “He is the head of the clan, not you, Jamil. Even if you do handle a lot of the running of it.”

Jamil leaned back, that frown still on his face, “So you noticed that too….”

I tilted my head, a smile slipping onto my face, “Well, you did mention it that day in the library, and you were the one scaring the Scarabia vampires off from looking too closely at me.”

A chuckle huffed its way out of him at my words, “Yes. I made sure they’d assumed you were my prey. Though that ‘ally’ of yours from the Savanaclaw clan almost messed that up.”

His voice took on an annoyed tinge as he finished, and I felt my eyes widen as I realized exactly what he meant, “That’s why the other vampires were staring at us… They thought-”

“That I had competition because you were staying so close to him,” Jamil’s frown was deep, and I shook my head. Half-mystified and half-distressed. 

How many more times were random vampires going to just assume that I went with someone specific? First it had been Vil, now it had been Jamil and then Leona in quick succession.

Ignoring me, he continued as annoyance continued to fill his voice, “Kalim wasn’t helping either with how he kept clinging on to you, though.”

I stared at him, no longer bothering to conceal my surprise, “So they thought Kalim also…?” He looked my way, watching as I shook my head before more and more pieces fell into place.

I looked at him warily, “Then when you had me pinned against the door, that was too further convince them that-”

“You were mine? Yes,” He outright smirked at me, and I almost gritted my teeth at his smug expression.

Logically, I knew he’d done it to protect me, but it also felt like it was just another way of him exerting control and flexing his power while simultaneously assuming that I couldn’t handle myself.

Before I could stop myself, irritation surged through me, and I was speaking. Stepping closer to him as I spoke in a restrained voice, “Look, I get what you were doing, and I appreciate your concern, but I don’t need that kind of protection, and I certainly don’t belong to any of you, so I’ll thank you to not pretend otherwise.” 

I’d kept my voice level, even despite my frustration at both his assumptions and the way he’d guided others' perceptions of me, and his eyes widened slightly before a smile crept onto his face.

He leaned forward, causing my eyes to widen, and I even took a step back before he stopped myself. Knowing perfectly well that he’d interpret me retreating as some sort of his victory.

His face was mere inches from mine as he spoke again with a certain amused hiss to his words that had my eyes narrowing, “Understood.”

Understood… Yes, that was the situation at hand. 

I understood him now. That him hypnotizing me had largely been him flexing his control of the clan and nothing else.

I could only hope that he understood that I had enough power to stand on my own in the face of his schemes, though.

Judging from his expression, he certainly understood that he could get a reaction out of me now at the very least. Though I wasn’t entirely sure that I liked that since he also appeared to revel in that knowledge just a little bit too much.

If you would like to read more:

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Next: Coming Soon!

[metalmewtwo-kxb]

drabble 1 - The Lost

(set many years in the future, year unknown. art included)

Part 1 | Part 2

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The wind howled on the mountain as a blizzard rolled in. It was the middle of the night, and the only pokemon about were sturdy ice types. However, even the largest abomasnow were herding their kin and smaller neighbors farther into the dense forests. Getting to cover was going to be important if they too didn't want to get buried in the drifts.

Benta was no different. Except, he continued to press forward rather than seek shelter with the other pokemon. He wasn't familiar with them, and these days every creature was more than wary of strangers. Particularly those from other regions. What's more, he couldn't allow himself to stop just yet. Before long this storm would be raging, and close the path to the peak.

If he could just reach the mouth of the pass before then, he would evade the worst of it and be able to continue on by morning. Otherwise, the temple ruins would be out of reach for the season.

He certainly hoped it wouldn't be that long...

Thankfully though, for what it was worth, he could tolerate this weather for as long as any ice type. His fur wasn't very long, but it was thick and dense as a stoutland's. Coupled with his winter cloak and hooded overcoat, he could manage to last a good while in this climate without needing much rest. So, that much he currently had going for him.

Taking a pause, Benta straightened up to peer through the oncoming snow. Both in front, and behind.

How far have I come? he wondered. It feels like forever... He used his psychic power to enhance his vision to see past the dark gusts of snow swirling through the air. The base of the mountain was far behind him, and he was coming upon a nearly leveled-out slope. Once he passed this area the trees would thin out and turn into yet another ridge, then a network of caves leading to the summit.

Perhaps it would have been smarter, and less strenuous, if he simply teleported to the top of the route...but seeing as he had never been to Spear Pillar before, he could not teleport there with much accuracy. He might just overshoot the location entirely. And obviously flying there was out of the question at present.

So... On foot it was.

I best hurry, he noted, seeing the thickest wall of the storm edging closer. When he looked forward, he could still make out the outline of the mountain pass in the distance. I don't have much farther to go. I can just make it.

He picked up his pace and carried on.

Minutes went by as he made his way up the slopes. In all the time he had been trekking through through the frozen terrain, he hadn't slipped even once. However, as he crossed to the next rise and looked ahead he saw something dark amongst the snow. A sharp chill ran up his spine.

Another pokemon had fallen in the snow. And it was unmoving.

Benta rushed over, the newest blanket of undisturbed snow crunching beneath his feet. When he reached the creature he could tell in an instant that it was definitely no ice type, let alone any pokemon he recognized off the top of his head.

A worm of anxiety rose in his chest as he crouched down to try and rouse them. But, he recoiled at first due to the sheer cold of the body...and there was no response. Looking back, he saw there was no evidence of footprints beyond shallow divots where they might have been. Which, that alone told him they had been lying here a while. Long enough to be fatal at least. Upon using his keener sight to inspect the aura, that suspicion was only confirmed.

They have not been dead for very long, either... he realized with a pang of remorse. If his estimation was correct, he had only been a mile or so away from here when this pokemon ultimately succumbed to the weather. Maybe if he had picked up his pace sooner..? Or hadn't stopped for that brief rest at the first ridge?

Benta huffed to himself and shook his head. There was no point in beating himself up over it, was there..? Some things just happened outside of immediate control. Nothing could be done but pay respects.

After a moment, he was about to stand and leave, seeing as the snowfall this high up served as its own grave this early in the winter. There would be no need to dig one from the ground.

But, then he noticed something else... A much smaller, tinier mass that was just barely visible beneath a mound of freshly fallen flakes that was set securely against the base of the deceased creature's neck. His curiosity having gotten the better of him, Benta reached over and brushed the snow away.

His heart lurched in a sudden panic. That pokemon, he recognized anywhere.

A small mew kit, curled tightly into a ball with its face against the body of the dead. Like them, it was practically frozen solid. Unlike them...there was still the slightest hint of an aura left.

In a rush he snatched the kit from its place, frantically brushing off the snow and holding it close as his heartbeat quickened to the point he was shaking.

What are you DOING out here??? he thought as his panic began to rise. No kit should have been anywhere away from its mother, let alone in an environment like this!

He abruptly rose to his feet and glanced around in a hurry, clutching the infant close beneath his cloak and keenly aware of how it made his fur freeze as though he were holding a pure ball of ice. His only option was to find somewhere well out of the storm's reach. Ideas were limited when he didn't know the entire layout of the terrain, but he had to try.

Hold on! He thought at the kit as if it might hear him. Though, he knew it wouldn't. Just hold on!

Without wasting another moment, Benta picked up and flew straight for the trees.

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

(To be Continued)

[leggerefiore]

Distortion

cw: Cyrus in the Distortion World

pairing: Cyrus/Reader

🌌🛰☄️🌌🛰☄️🌌🛰☄️

The air was chilly atop Mt. Coronet. Looking out, one could see the vast stretches of the Sinnoh region out before their eyes and note the varying, natural beauty that existed. It was peaceful. Eerily so, when paired with the pulsating and swirling portal before you. You shivered as another cool breeze blew past you. A hand came to press against your back. Cynthia stood at your side, her long hair swayed with the wind. She was who brought you here, having explained what your boyfriend had done. Your mild state of denial that Cyrus would never do anything so mad had been proven by the admissions of those under him.

You felt frustrated with yourself for not noticing sooner. Everything in your power would have been attempted in order to stop the man from even daring to try such an awful thing. Yet, you had not known. Cyrus purposefully kept you in the dark. It was clear he wanted you to be blissfully unaware of everything single questionable thing he was doing. He had been taken to whatever lied beyond this portal, according to Cynthia. Consumed by a being that seemed keen to protect this world. You could only wonder what exactly had happened here. Questions had to be forced down.

You were here to drag him out from there, kicking and screaming, if you had to.

A single nod was given to Cynthia before you bravely pushed in through the portal. It felt like your entire body was pressing through the membrane of an egg. Delicate and soft, yet still firm enough to prevent easy entry. Soon, however, you had. The scenery of Spear Pillar had shifted into one of non-euclidean planes and confusing scenery. It was as if you were in a cave, with stagnant heavy air, but outside with sway plants stretching up to a sun that did not exist. You stepped forward in confusion. Cynthia followed behind you, carefully looking around. Something about her obvious profound interest in this place sparkled within those grey eyes of hers.

You quickly began to explore the strange dimension, wandering through the vast yet cramped world. Nothing made sense in function, yet it all seemed to be leading you through the area nonetheless. You walked and walked, travelling into lakes and up or down or even across waterfalls to end up away from Cynthia. A large, terrifying pokemon floated in the centre of this world. Its crimson eyes piercing into you. You gasped as your eyes saw what laid before it.

“Cyrus!” his name left your lips before you could even think to speak. The position in which his body laid left you filled with concern. The pokemon let out a terrifying cry after it noticed you. Your breath hitched in your throat as you stood frozen. The pokemon had brought did not seem at all capable of handling such a beast. Yet, when your eyes met Cyrus's unconscious form again, you felt something swell in your chest. You threw out the first pokemon you reached for and felt mild horror at the familiar cry of a certain ghost-type.

Rotom looked around the area curiously before noticing the literal nightmarish monster in the room. It let out a frightened noise as it zipped back to you in a panic. Though, something stopped it. You watched in more fear as it suddenly began to zip towards the pokemon. It had noticed Cyrus, you realised. You rushed after it, desperate to protect it. Soon, the pokemon floated before you ominously. Its shadow wings spread out like tentacles from its back as it glared down at both you and your Rotom. You swallowed. It truly felt like no other pokemon that you had ever encountered.

You stood up and tried to reach for Rotom's pokeball, yet it moved too suddenly and let out a loud cry, and a shadowy ball of energy began to form in front of the plasma pokemon. The more menacing pokemon seemed taken aback as the attack flew towards it and actually hit it. It recoiled away from Cyrus, and you quickly moved to grab him to pull him away. Soon, you rushed away with Cyrus and Rotom followed after you. For some inexplicable reason, the pokemon did not follow you three as you fled. It remained where it was and only watched your actions.

You placed the man back down on the strange ground after you felt that you had put enough distance between yourself and whatever pokemon that was. Rotom had easily kept up with you, even speeding past you a few times. You crashed to the floor to catch your breath, exhausted from the strenuous movement. It felt like you had been in here for so long, yet time had not appeared to have moved at all according to your phone. You let out a sigh. Rotom buzzed around your phone happily, clearly wanting to possess it. Thankfully, it held off. After regaining yourself, you moved back to Cyrus.

His chest slowly rose and fell, telling you that he was alive. You observed him generally, seeing no apparent injuries to him. Much to whatever his chagrin would be whenever he awoke, you also checked under his clothing for any hidden wounds. He seemed almost entirely fine, despite a few bruises and minor cuts. You felt at ease knowing that he was well enough. Pressing a hand to his forehead, you confirmed that his temperature felt normal. Rotom seemed to shift to zapping around him curiously as you sat beside his unconscious body.

At some point later, you heard him groan. Many emotions washed over you as you rushed to hover over him, watching his face closely. Rotom joined you in observing. Slowly, Cyrus stirred back into the waking world. His blue eyes opened to see you and the small electric type hovering over him. In fact, it startled him so much that he attempted to squirm away from you both. Seeing the scenery of the Distortion World around, however, he froze. Silence overtook the world as Rotom zipped to nuzzle against cheek while making happy sounds. He seemed contemplative for a moment as his eyes closed once again. You stayed quiet, unsure of where to begin with anything.

“What are you doing here?” he asked. You swallowed. His eyes opened to meet your own. “How… How did you enter this place? Did that pokemon bring you here?” You shook your head and watched as his shoulders dropped down. It seemed he had been worried about something.

“Cynthia brought me,” you answered him, “She said she wanted to bring you back to our world…” He seemed to make a sour expression at the mention of the champion's name, but otherwise just sighed. Rotom was gently pushed away as he stood up.

“… I have no urge to return,” Cyrus's tone was harsh, “This is where I would rather remain while I continue to work towards my goals.” You could only stare at him as you considered what you knew of his plans. A world without spirit… Without emotion. You shuddered to think about it. It was certainly no world that you would wish to live in. Had he not learnt his lesson from what had happened to him?

You grabbed his arm and stared directly into his eyes. “… You would choose your plans over me, Cyrus?” you hated to do this to him, but you refused to let him do something so dumb. He seemed to stiffen at your words. Blinking a few times, he shook his head.

“No… You aren't understanding,” he turned to you brought his free hand to grab the wrist of your own which held his arm, “… This world will be one for you, too. I wish to make a world where strife doesn't exist.”

You shook your head again. Letting go of his arm, you instead pulled him into a hug. Burying your face into his shoulder, you felt him stand unmoving. “I don't want that, Cy,” you mumbled out, “I just want you… I want to be with you.”

His arm awkwardly came around you as he sighed again, “I know…” Something seemed different in his tone. Rotom floated over again, watching the affection between you two curiously. “I know that is all you want, beloved, but…” his voice trailed off. You felt your heart pang with bitter feelings.

“I… I won't leave you here, Cyrus,” you pulled away to look him in the eyes once more, “I… I'll stay here with you. I won't let you be alone any more.” His eyes went wide as he shook his head this time.

“Absolutely not…” his voice was firm, “You must return to the normal world at once. You cannot stay here.” You cocked a brow up at him. Was he ordering you around? Well, you were not one of his grunts, and you did not have to listen to him.

“Nope, Cy,” you leaned into him more and gave him a playful grin, “As long as you're here, I'm here.” You watched as his face seemed to stiffen. It appeared that thought terrified him.

“No, I am telling you to go back home at-”

“You can't make me,” you told him plainly, “You can either have me here at your side, or I can wander this world looking for you endlessly. Orrr, even better, we leave together.” Cyrus seemed shocked by your behaviour towards him. Before he could get in another word, Rotom seemed to join you in hitting him where it hurts by nuzzling in between you both excitedly. “Sounds like it'll be the three of us,” you teased him. He clearly wanted to argue more, but you caught him once again unawares with a peck to his lips, silencing him.

Somehow, judging by how completely stricken he was by this situation, you felt as if you had begun to get through to him. It would only be a matter of time before managed to get him out of this strange mindset he was locked into.

~

Later, Cynthia was quite pleased to see you bringing out Cyrus. However, the amount of time truly spent in the Distortion World was unknown due to the altered flow of time.

[infernalodie]

𝐀𝐥𝐤𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞 (𝐩𝐭.𝟏) || 𝐍𝐚𝐭𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐚 𝐑𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐟𝐟

“𝘐'𝘮 𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘶𝘱 𝘪𝘯 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘪𝘨𝘯 𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘪𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘯𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘦 𝘐 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘢 𝘥𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘣𝘫𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘺 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘪𝘳𝘦“

Inspo: Sleep Token - Alkaline

Pairing: Vampire!Natasha Romanoff x Black!Fem!reader

Summary: When you met her gaze, something in you knew simplicity was forever gone...

Warnings: Description of murder and mainly building plot.

Part Two - Finale

Words: 1503

DNI IF YOU’RE SENSITIVE TO WARNIGNS ABOVE!

Dust particles, bugs, buzzing lightbulbs, and cold steel bars. Tattered clothes, aching limbs, starvation, dehydration. These were all things that you had to adapt to. The conditions of your captivity were nothing shorter than torturous. All because of the damn creatures that lurked at night feeding on innocents that matched the right criteria for their consumption.

Vampires. Wretches that came from an unknown entity or power. Information on them was vague other than what the governments divulged.

You’d never encountered such, but you had known of their existence. It was a worldwide problem that the higher powers weren’t sure of how to combat. So, it left the defenceless the main victims.

But two days when you were taken, you made sure to put up a fight. Stabbing one of those vile creatures in the throat before you were knocked out. Now thinking back to it, there might’ve been some better ulterior actions you could’ve made, but you knew it would’ve ended with you in here. Locked away in what seemed to be a whiskey distiller judging by the barrels lining the walls and brick pillars keeping the foundation above standing.

The details were meaningless. You’d seen fellow prisoners be taken wailing and screaming, kicking their legs about like children in some false hope that they would get away. And when they were taken above the basement, they were never seen or heard from again.

No one knew what they exactly did. From the whispers of conversation, you could hear from down the hall, you knew the vampires were harvesting them. And when they were done harvesting, they killed the human. There didn’t seem to be a sign of them ever stopping either.

Pressed to the corner of your cell, you toyed with a rock. Digging the object into the ground, scribbling random shapes. But the sound of voices alerted you, lifting your head to hear footsteps approach. Shadows danced across the walls from what looked like candlelight.

“Miss Romanoff, you must understand that this is a business,” a man’s voice spoke. “We can’t just take one from the batch. We’ll be behind on our deal with the Director. He expects 20 that are ready to ship and supply to allies. Not 19 and a half.”

The source of the voice appeared from down the hall. A man with a suit that had dust and tattered sleeves was following a woman, two guards behind them. Their faces revealed for a millisecond as they passed a light fixture hanging from the ceiling.

You caught sight of the woman’s vivid red hair, resembling the tone of a rose. Her white dress shirt compensates for her chest with two overall straps connecting to her black dress pants and hooked over her shoulders. Black leather gloves stuffed into her pockets, able to hear the fabric straining from clenched fists.

The man skittishly following in tandem was a mess. A lens in his glasses cracked and his hair was unkempt. His suit was ruined with dirt and ripped with his dress shoes looked older than yourself. But his drugged-out nature did make you believe this was a man of ingenuity. After all, he was questioning the woman on business on the correct measures to take.

They stopped within the darkness, obscuring their expressions from your vision. You made no movement to change that, too afraid of what type of attention it might draw. Instead, you heard the woman, Romanoff, exhale heavily. “Where is the half barrel?”

“R-Right here, ma’am.” The man moved toward the wall and pointed to the one in question. “I highly suggest that we fill it with the remaining prisoner of the batch before we think of-” As the man turned to the woman, her hand wrapped around his throat and slammed him into the ground.

The sheer force of the impact made the ground vibrate faintly. The man choked, unfinished pleas slipping out through cracked lips. “Must I remind you Banner of who it is you speak to? Or shall I save myself the breath and kill two birds with one stone?” Romanoff questioned. Her voice a rich American accent that had a tinge of darkness to it, calling upon goosebumps to rise across your body.

She reached toward the barrel mentioned before and popped the cork, causing the liquid to spill out. Romanoff pulled Banner’s face underneath and kept him there. Gurgles of his attempt to breathe fall weak. His body thrashed and his hands fought at the vampire's vice grip.

You couldn’t help but cringe at the sounds, closing your eyes with your face twisting up in disgust. It wasn’t as bad as the many things you’d seen on the news or from the media, but it still left your stomach twisting in disgust.

When the sounds stopped, you peeled your eyes open to see the last three figures standing in the hall talking quietly. But your attention quickly shifted toward the stream of blood coming from where the three were standing. Its red, thick form absorbs the dirt and dust as it slipped beneath your cell door and invaded your temporary space of hell.

There was no stopping the whimper that fell from your lips. Rapidly attempting to stand to your feet, you accidentally placed the palm of your hand on the rock you had been toying with. Applying too much pressure to the point that you pierced your hand, making you hiss as you pressed your back firmly to the wall, holding the limb close to your chest.

But it was too late. You could hear footsteps slowly and methodically approach. A harsh chill clung to the inside of your chest as you stared into the darkness as the figure grew large and closer. Until she stood in front of your cage door. The light hung above you gave you some vision of her face. Her strong jawline, plump lips, and pale complexion. But her eyes stood out the most. They glowed a fluent red, much like her hair. Both were beautiful if you hadn’t known what she had done and what she would continue doing after you were dead.

“Y/n, isn’t it?” Her question made you shiver. The sound of your name rolling off her tongue was faintly soothing. Maybe this was just another trick or power that vampires had that you weren’t aware of. But you wanted to hear it more.

You wouldn’t lie to yourself and say that the woman wasn’t attractive. She truly was the definition of gifted in beauty. It made you wonder if she used it to her advantage. If this “business” she conducted was originally built on her looks and how her voice had some sort of hypnotizing effect.

“How do you know my name?” You barked defensively, but your intimidation was less than none.

The woman sighed, reaching into her pocket and pulling out a vintage cigarette case and a lighter. “My men go through the belongings of the people we take. Learn who they are, what makes them tick, and if any of their family meets their standards to be harvested,” she explained. “But I went through yours, personally.”

You couldn’t help but scoff. “Is it some sick and twisted turn-on for you? To get to know the person you’re going to kill?” You spat. “Well, you can learn this. Killing one of your men was the best decision I’ve ever made. I can die happily knowing they're dead.”

Romanoff chuckled, placing the cigarette between her lips and lighting it. The orange glow reveals her full face and her eyes staring intently at you. It was unsettling. You thought she would be rearing to rip your throat out or give you the same fate as Banner, but she just stared. She wasn’t giving anything away for you to act upon.

Inhaling deeply, Romanoff pulled the stick from her lips and exhaled slowly. “You mean, Rogers?” One of the two figures behind her stepped forward just enough to reveal a bandage around his throat. Eyes resembling daggers directed toward you as Romanoff continued. “It will take a day or two to heal since everyone under my command has strict orders. But I am sad to say Y/n, you didn’t kill him.”

There was silence only found on your end, pulling a grin across the other woman’s face. She waved her hand, saying, “I mean, we can go over the countless things likely running through your head, but I have my own plans for you, sweetheart.”

“Don’t you dare fucking try it,” you warned. “I’ll kill you myself.”

Romanoff laughed, tossing her cigarette into the stream of blood and clapping her hands. “This is why you’re going to be mine, Y/n. You’ve got heart, just like how I imagined you too,” she said. “I’ve waited so long for this day.”

With one last wave of her hand, the door swung open, the lock shattering. And you couldn’t get a word out before Rogers charged at you and darkness claimed your vision.

[edynsgarden]

The Orchid

Chapter 2

There had been whispers of an American Jujutsu sorcerer with a cursed technique that rendered them unstoppable. No one could identify this sorcerer by face, but they were recognizable by photos of each cursed spirit with an orchid beside it. Typically, gossip about foreign sorcerers did not carry across the ocean to Japan, the pillar of Jujutsu, but it seemed that this American sorcerer dubbed “the orchid” was the only topic of conversation in the Jujutsu world. While many higher ups and special grade sorcerers feared the arrival of The Orchid, Satoru Gojo was excited. Finally, a rival, an equal, or maybe… a lover.

Story Warnings: heavy smut, breeding kink, spanking, spitting, violence, mentions of abuse, blood

Chapter Warnings: none <3 (no smut this chapter)

Author's note: Sorry for all of the filler :/ I want to establish to storyline a little bit before we get into the nitty gritty

Chapter 0.5 - Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3

Chapter 2

“Ryomen Sukuna!?” the girl said aghast.

The Jujutsu community in America is fairly small, but names such as Satoru Gojo and Ryomen Sukuna are powerful enough to traverse the ocean. In America, Sukuna was known for the trail of bodies he left before his separation into the 20 fingers. 

“Mhm, but don’t you worry your pretty little head about it. With you working with me, he should be an easy kill.” Satoru stated. “Oh by the way, I don’t remember you telling me your name girl.” reaching out his long slender fingers to shake your hand. 

The Orchid froze. She had never seen Gojo anywhere in the press, not expecting such a muscular, yet lean figure and sculpted face. But, she did wonder what his eyes looked like under that thick blindfold of his. *The strongest? More like the hottest* she thought to herself. 

“Ehem” Masamichi cleared his throat, signaling for her to shake Satoru’s outstretched hand.

“My name is Shiloh Fields, but you can just call me Shy.” Shiloh said strongly, firmly gripping Gojo’s cold hand, an attempt to distract from how her heart was racing at the right of him. Something about him made her not want to let go, and neither did he. However, their trance was broken by Masamichi also extending his hand for a handshake.

“Nice to meet you Ms. Fields, we are grateful to have you as an asset to our team.” said Masamichi. The two shook hands briefly, a noticeable difference between the handshake she previously held with Gojo. Something about it was different, almost as if there was a familiarity to the touch, a spark igniting a lost flame. 

“Alright, well I think we should probably try to train together sometime.” Gojo mentioned. a good point because Shiloh and him were going to be working in combat together now. 

“Yeah sure, but first where do I move in?” Shiloh asked.

“Oh– well, there is one faculty living space open.” Masamichi answered, sharing a short, yet unmissable look with Gojo.

“Great!” Shiloh replied, slightly confused by the glace the men shared.

“I’m sure Gojo wouldn’t mind escorting you to your living quarters. He is very familiar with the room” Masamichi mentioned with a slight smirk. 

Gojo’s attitude was different now. For some reason, he was not the playful Gojo that was just trying to get closer to Shy. He didn’t seem angry, or sad, but he almost looked annoyed? Not at you, but at Masamichi. One thing about Shiloh is that she hates conflict, so even this slight tension in the air made her uncomfortable. 

“So… we might as well get going!” Shiloh said, attempting to lighten up the mood. 

“Sure.” Gojo stated boredly, “but where is your stuff?”

Shiloh’s face fell into a ‘are you serious’ type of face. Speaking no words she conjured a suitcase out of thin air with her cursed technique simply to prove her unspoken point. 

“No need to get all sassy on me Ms. Fields, I don’t appreciate the attitude.” Gojo said, his eyes rolling in an unenthused manner. “Follow me.”

And with that, the Orchid and the strongest were perusing through the halls of Jujutsu high, only to stop at one of the faculty dorms. 

“This is it!” Gojo sarcastically exclaimed, Shiloh couldn’t help but wonder why he was so unhappy with your rooming situation. But that curiosity was soon answered when Gojo slid the door of the dorm open. Clothes riddled the floor along with other uncleanly items, if it wasn’t for the many photos pinned of Gojo and friends Shiloh would have thought the room belonged to a homeless person. 

“Uhm, I think this is your room Gojo. Where is mine?” Shiloh asked uneasily.

“Nope, this is right roomie.”

“Where is my bed?”

“Oh, my bad” Gojo quickly moved a pile of clothing to reveal a twin sized bed in the opposite corner of the room.

[thunderblessedhero]

———

[Attached: A live video feed. Or… snippets of one? The footage will fizzle out at random intervals, but during the stream’s rolling you manage to catch a few key moments.

In the first scene, you see August, carefully navigating their way down a dark corridor. Sheets of frost crawl up the sides of the cave walls around them, and you can see the young trainer shivering rather violently the further they press on, rubbing the sides of their arms to keep warm…

“Have… to keep moving…” They mutter to themself, voice wavering, right before the screen goes black.

•

A few minutes pass before the feed returns. Gizmo is pointing the camera over August’s shoulder, who now appears to be standing in the middle of a giant, frozen cavern. Spikes and pillars of ice are scattered throughout the room around them, and you notice their breaths coming out in white puffs. But the most eye-catching thing are the pair of imposing figures standing before them…

There’s an elderly man, with lank, pale green hair that sticks up in an unusual way, and a red lens over his right eye. He wears a long black cloak with a large collar concealing the bottom half of his face, the flowing fabric decorated with strange eye-like patterns. In his right hand, he wields a cane, with the logo of Team Plasma displayed on it.

Behind him stands… a Pokémon? A dragon type, you immediately assume. Its size and anatomy bring to mind the two legendary dragons of Unova, but whatever this creature is, it certainly isn’t either of them. Jagged armor of ice coat its scaly gray hide, and its two pale yellow eyes shine ominously like torchlight through the darkness. You can hear the beast’s rumbling inhales and exhales, flakes of snow dispersing from its nostrils whenever it breathes out.

The man, who you immediately jump to assume is its trainer, smirks towards August. He takes a relaxed step forward, cane clicking against the ground as his eyes to be analyzing the person before him.

“So, you decided to follow me after all?” he muses, raising a brow. “Well, allow me to formally welcome you to the Giant Chasm, young trainer- or should I say ex-trainer?”

August visibly tenses at that, but doesn’t say a thing as the man continues to monologue. “This sacred place is where Kyurem once fell to after the separation of the Original Dragon- and where its power resonates strongest. Here, it will easily be able to turn your precious Unova into a frozen wasteland!”

With a tap of his cane to the stone ground, the dragon- Kyurem, he called it- bellows in response, its shrill roar causing the cave floor to tremble violently below August’s feet. They gasp as they stumble a little, but hold their ground and balance themselves before shooting the cloaked man a steely glare.

“Why are you doing this, Ghetsis?” They cry out furiously. “You want Unova all to yourself, you want everyone to bend to your will- but why? Why go to such drastic lengths? This won’t give you the power to fix anything!”

Ghetsis simply scoffs at the child’s attempt at a retort, waving his hand dismissively. “Young one, you don’t seem to understand- the power part is all I care about. You think I still hold the ideals of the old Team Plasma; separating humans and Pokémon for the sake of a better world? I thought you would’ve understood by now that it was all just a ruse to sway the people over to my side,” His expression hardens, as he firmly slams the bottom of his cane back down. “Pokémon mean nothing to me, people mean nothing to me- if corrupting their hearts and using their sense of morality against them won’t work, then I will simply make them bow to me using brute force!”

August just growls under their breath, feeling their composure slipping as they reach for a Pokéball from their belt. Seeing this, the corners of Ghetsis’ mouth curl into a twisted grin.

“I have a memory that continues to haunt me,” he goes on calmly, ignoring August’s threatening stance. “Just one.”

He strolls over to the other side of Kyurem, tapping his finger pensively against the top of his cane as he casts a melancholy gaze towards the cave wall, brows furrowing as he appears to reminisce upon something. “That unpleasant look in your eyes reminds me of it,” he acknowledges August with an irritated side glare. “Burning with as much fiery conviction as that little nuisance from two years ago.”

“But,” his voice switches to a mockingly pleasant tone, as he turns and spreads his arms out to the sides. “All that aside, allow me to bestow upon a gift, to show my respect for making it this far. You’ve proved to be quite the thorn in Team Plasma’s side- even besting the Shadow Triad and Colress.”

His expression then morphs into a cold, unforgiving scowl. “I shall freeze you solid right here and now, so you may watch my glorious ascent! And then, you will suffer a fate far worse than the one I orchestrated for that pathetic excuse of a hero!”

With a snap of his fingers, he barks the command. “Kyurem! Glaciate!”

Before August can have a chance to react, the dragon obeys, inhaling in a sharp breath and standing to its full height. A pale white glow emits from its armor of frost, as what can only be described as a blizzard begins to swirl around the room in a ring of frigid winds. Slowly, levitating spears of ice begin to take shape, whirring around rapidly and circling in on August from all sides, preventing them from running. Once they reach full size, the blades begin to withdraw back, thrumming with Kyurem’s raw power as they prepare to land the finishing blow…

In a heartbeat, the icy spears spring forwards and hone in on August- and all they can do is crouch to the ground, throw their arms up over their head, and pray for a miracle.

“FUSION BOLT!”

You barely register the familiar voice that cries out from somewhere offscreen, before Kyurem’s attack is abruptly intercepted by a crackling, electric blue light. Gizmo gets knocked back by the blast, and yet again, the footage cuts to static.

•

The feed returns after a bit of a longer period of silence this time. The camera wobbles as Gizmo weakly lifts itself back up, but as it rises from the ground and steadies you can see something past the grains of dust covering the camera.

August was knocked onto their back, but seems relatively unharmed. In front of them… there’s a familiar figure. Green hair swaying behind him, you watch as N stands before his friend’s attacker. At his side… is none other than his old companion, the legendary dragon of ideals- Zekrom.

The awe-inspiring sight of the divine creature in the flesh is almost enough to distract you from the sound of N’s voice ringing out through the cavern. “I understand now why Zekrom had been acting strange, vanishing for a whole month,” he states. “She knew Kyurem was suffering- at your hands, no less.”

“Suffering?” Ghetsis chuckles condescendingly, completely unfazed. “For the freak who’s supposed to understand the hearts of Pokémon, you’ve clearly had a misread on Kyurem’s.” He gestures dramatically to the frozen beast at his side. “I have given Kyurem purpose! Forgotten for centuries, left to rot beneath the ice by its other halves- if anything, you should be thanking me! Now it shall have the honor of assisting me in paving a way to a glorious new world!”

Zekrom snarls at that, to which Kyurem retorts with an indignant snuff. From the way the dragons glare at each other, you can see a long festering bitterness behind each of their eyes, telling an unspoken tale of history between them. You can only imagine what it is…

N looks between the two dragons, biting his lip as he turns to face the man before him once more. “So you’ve twisted its heart and its pain to make it do your own bidding…” he growls. “…Just as you did with me. And countless others. Here I had hoped you had changed, but unfortunately I can’t say I’m very surprised.”

He sucks in a deep breath, before stepping forward. “I will not allow selfish humans to make Pokémon suffer,” he declares. “Unova- it isn’t perfect, but I like it here. It’s the place that taught me to live as a human…” His hand slides up to grip the black and white stone hanging from his necklace, as he casts a momentary glance back at August. “…and made me notice the harmony of people and Pokémon living alongside one another. And I will do everything in my power to protect that harmony- especially from the likes of you.”

Ghetsis falls silent, watching N with this unreadable frown plastered upon his face. But then, it cracks into a grin, before a dark chuckle escapes Ghetsis as he claps his hands together.

“Good, good,” he says. “That was a moving expression of your determination! It seems the education I provided you in order to make you king wasn’t a complete waste!”

“But I still haven’t forgotten that even after everything I had done for you, all the kindness I extended you-” Ghetsis glowers, slamming his staff again. “Took you in, raised you, cared for you, taught you everything you know- you still had the gall to selfishly turn on Team Plasma and thwart my plans! I was supposed to use your abilities to rule Unova!”

Then, he closes his eyes, relaxes himself, and straightens up. “But, I will forgive you for all of that as well- for you have bestowed upon me the final piece needed in order to carry out my mission-”

“Zekrom, which you were kind enough to bring me,” he gestures to the giant black dragon at N’s side. “Is the key to unlocking Kyurem’s true potential! You’ve saved me quite the trouble. I was originally counting on the arrival of her counterpart, but the goddess of Ideals will work just as well.”

He then raises a hand from his cloak, tapping his chin. “Well, actually, that’s not entirely true- you were a bit of a plan B. I had a feeling you’d come after us after we fired those ice missiles into Opelucid City- and of course, displayed to everyone the demise of that little hero of Truth you hold oh so dearly…”

N grits his teeth, and Ghetsis smiles, knowing he’s struck a nerve. “You will not get away for what you did to them,” the young man seethes. “Your plan- it will never work. It’s an ugly formula.”

Brushing off his threat, Ghetsis simply continues. “Oh, but I assure you, it will!” He switches his cane to his other hand so he can reach for something inside the pocket of his cloak. From it, he pulls out a triangular device- it resembles a syringe, of sorts, with a color pallet resembling Kyurem’s. “With the help of these- the DNA Splicers! Watch and learn!”

He turns to Kyurem, and promptly stabs the device into the beast’s shoulder. Kyurem hisses and recoils in pain- its eyes and the yellow horn jutting out between its ice helmet beginning to thrum with energy.

Cracks dance across the ice trapping its wing-like appendages, before they completely shatter- allowing pink, sharp-ended tendrils to burst forth from the dragons’ body. They loom menacingly in the air above Kyurem for a beat longer, before suddenly lunging themselves at Zekrom like whips.

Realizing they were coming for his partner, N whirls and cries out to the Legendary. “ZEKROM!”

With a shriek of terror, Zekrom launches into the skies, twirling around wildly to narrowly avoid the tendrils as they grab for her. She moves with incredible speed, managing to outlast them for a good while, but the pursuit is cut short sooner than you had hoped- Kyurem is faster, and the tendrils expand out to entangle Zekrom within their grasp. As they tighten their hold on her, she roars helplessly as they begin to pull against her and drag her back to the ground.

The tendrils almost seem to drain her energy like a leech, leaving her no choice but to let herself plummet from the air. In her descent, her body is encased in a blue light- and in seconds, she’s retreated into the form of a round, black stone that soon clatters pitifully to the floor.

N stiffens in shock at the sight of his mighty companion being brought to defeat, just like that. “Z-Zekrom…”

“Kyurem!” Ghetsis shouts another order, pointing his staff in the direction of Zekrom’s slumbering form. “Absorb the Dark Stone, now!”

Stomping forwards, Kyurem extends out its clawed wings and seems to draw the stone towards it with a stream of swirling pink light, like some sort of magnetic pulse. The orb hovers over Kyurem’s head, and the creature almost appears to take in an inhale of relief, like it had been awaiting this moment.

The Dark Stone begins to shrink in size, its power getting vacuumed through the swirls of energy attaching it to Kyurem. The icy beast closes its eyes, as a white crackles of electricity begin to shoot up from the ground around it…

•

The feed flickers out again, but not for as long this time.

When it cuts back in, you can see Kyurem- or… Zekrom…? It looks like Kyurem, but it’s gained many of the electric deity’s traits. The strange and somewhat terrifying amalgamation of the two dragons stands tall and menacingly beside Ghetsis, breathing in and out heavily, puffs of steam swirling out from its nostrils. Veins of blue energy stretch out from its ice-plated shoulders, connecting to several slots along its bulky, unnaturally twisted tail.

N is stunned speechless. He stands there, hand trembling as he beholds the monstrosity his legendary companion had been absorbed into. August hesitantly rises to their feet behind him, eyes bulged with shock.

Amused by their reactions, Ghetsis snickers darkly. “Do you understand now, N?” he says patronizingly. “If you had simply become king, none of this would have had to happen. No one would’ve had to die. Unova would’ve remained beautiful…”

It’s clear that the man’s words have their intended effect- N’s eyes trail to the ground, as he clenches his fist and grits his teeth. You can practically see the gears turning behind his eyes, trying to think of anything he can do, anything he can say back- but nothing comes out.

“And now, I shall rule over with an iron fist,” Ghetsis continues, that ever present twisted grin still on his face as he rises his cane up triumphantly. “-all because you were too weak hearted to rise up into the role I wasted decades preparing you for.”

“LEAVE HIM ALONE!”

The shout that echoes throughout the chasm causes N to look up, his mouth falling open when he raises his head to see none other than August- standing firmly between him and the merged Kyurem, a Pokéball clutched in hand.

“You don’t get to talk to him like that,” August hisses, and you can’t help but notice something about them has changed… Their voice almost sounded deeper, carrying an ethereal echo to it, exuding power and determination. There was an unnatural, crystal blue glow illuminating their dark brown eyes, swirling in wisps of light like the flow of water.

“Oh?” Ghetsis cocks a brow at them, not very amused by their attempt at intimidation. “So it would seem there’s more to you than just an impudent, nosy child from some nowhere town. Well then…” He clasps his hands together, a challenging smirk appearing on his features. “I was just planning on freezing you two solid where you stood, but now my interest is piqued. If you’re so bold as to continue standing against a force as unstoppable as my Kyurem, then I’ll give you a fighting chance- face down Kyurem, alone!”

N takes in a sharp breath, tensing up in fear, before turning to August and quickly shaking his head. “August, don’t.” he pleaded. “This isn’t your fight-”

“Yes, it is,” August replied firmly, without even looking back at him. They grip the Pokéball in their hand tighter, their stance unwavering as they address Ghetsis once more. “I accept your challenge, Ghetsis.”

Kyurem’s trainer is silent for a moment, eyes calm and calculating as he stares August down, as if he’s trying to read them for any hidden fear beneath their steely gaze. Then, his sinister grin returns, and he takes a step back- making a sweeping gesture with his arm towards the open space that would act as their battlefield. “Very well,” he snickers. “Be my guest. I for one can’t wait to see all that fighting spirit dwindle from your eyes as Kyurem mercilessly crushes each of your pathetic Pokémon!”

August didn’t bother to give a retort back- they just remained silent as they stepped forwards, unshaken in the shadow of their glowering, godly opponent. Out came their first Pokémon- A Samurott, the jagged point on its armored head glistening in the dim light pouring in through the cavern. August threw out the first command- and just like that, the battle began.

“RAZOR SHELL!”

Samurott lunges forward with one of it sword-shaped shells drawn, slashing at Kyurem’s neck. The tip of the blade drags across the dragon’s black and gray scales, but to the Water-type starter’s shock- barely even leave a scratch.

In response, Kyurem simply swatted the otter Pokémon away with its heavy, ice-covered arm, and August grit their teeth as they watched their starter tumble across the ground. Thankfully, Samurott landed on its feet- but not long before Kyurem let loose a blast of raw, draconic energy that it’d have to scramble away to avoid.

This battle with seemingly impossible odds raged on for what felt like well over an hour- with August switching out frequently between Pokémon every two turns or so to try and avoid any knockouts. That strategy wouldn’t be effective forever, though- it only lead to Kyurem getting more annoyed; and more viscous with its retaliations.

One by one, each of August’s team began to succumb to exhaustion. “SHIVER!” They cried out as their Beartic was brought to his knees with a pained grunt, having just endured a brutal Slash attack, before keeling over onto his side in defeat.

Growling under their breath, August recalled him to his Pokéball- clicking it back onto their belt before sending in their trusty Samurott once more. They took a moment to examine Kyurem’s condition- it was growing tired, and even suffering from a burn their Darmanitan had inflicted earlier on in the fight, but it looked capable of holding out a bit longer. Much longer than their Samurott- who looked like he was standing on his last leg, even using one of his swords to support his weight.

The outcome of this match wasn’t likely going to end in August’s favor- that much was certain. Seeing this, N ran forwards, grabbing the teen’s shoulder to try and urge them to back down now while they still could.

“August, it’s not worth it,” he begged. “That thing is too powerful! We have to run- NOW!”

“No!” August almost screamed back, yanking their arm away. To N’s surprise, he was greeted by the sight of tears beginning to pour down from their eyes when they whirled around to face him. “I was useless back in Opelucid City- I’m not letting the same thing happen again now! We might not even get another chance to stop him!”

“Listen to the freak, child,” Ghetsis taunted from across the battlefield. “Victory is already within my grasp! Turn back now, and maybe you’ll live long enough to see me rise to the top!”

Clenching their fist, August turned back to Ghetsis and Kyurem defiantly. Just as they were to about to dish out another order to their Samurott, however, they stopped upon noticing the blue tubes protruding from the legendary dragon’s back start to pulsate with light once more. Rearing its head back, Kyurem let out a bellowing screech as it took a deep inhale of frosty air, slowly building up a giant chunk of glowing ice between its maw. At the same time, sparks began crackling in the back of its throat, imbuing the icicle with electrical energy.

It was- without a doubt- building up to be a devastating strike. One that might just cause the whole room to collapse. Without hesitation, N firmly grabbed August’s arm and yanked them away, ignoring their protests while reaching for the camera and snatching Gizmo out of the air. Everything becomes an unintelligible blur, and all you can hear are footsteps pounding against stone and N’s frantic panting as he makes a run for it.

There’s a rumble, and you catch a flash of red heat whoosh past in all the chaos… Everything begins to shake violently as an explosion goes off in the background, and you hear N and August yelp as they tumble forwards. Gizmo lets out a series of distressed beeps as he rolls across the ground, cracks spreading across his screen. For a moment, your heart drops, thinking they weren’t able to escape the blow…

…But then, Gizmo looks up. N is crumpled on the ground, having thrown himself over August to protect them. With a groan, he manages to sit up, and beholds the figure waiting behind him…

His jaw drops open at the sight of brilliant, flowing white feathers, aglow with wispy, orange flames. The radiant being who’d come to his rescue rises to its full height, craning its long neck back as it lets out an ethereal scream towards the heavens…

You hear N whisper its name under his breath. “Reshiram…”

And on its back, you catch a glimpse of a figure with pink hair.]

———

[loonaticskr]

Loonatics KR Bios - Tiger Leaps

Art created by DarthCraftus and character written created by @kervinfire

Disclaimer: This character will soon be updated for the fic. I'd like you to please do not use or draw this OC without permission from me.

Name: Tiger Leaps

Real Name: ???

Race: Tiger

Gender: Male

Age: 19

Nationality: American born Filipino

Relatives: Jesa (Mother),Levin(Father), Kray(Sister)

Personality: Rebellious, cool, helpful, tough, nice, smart, sarcastic, sometimes negative and positive thinker, anti-bully

Appearance: A red colored tiger with dark blue stripes, and red eyes on his face. He has a normal body physique of a basketball student in high school

Outfits: 

Casual Clothing: He wears a synthetic unzipped hoodie with aromatic camo colors, and cargo pants with the asexual camo colors. He also wears a black t-shirt gratified with a white logo with the number 143 and wears shoes that is bluer and more purple.

Varsity Clothing: In his varsity outfit he wears a white t-shirt of Aro-ace Arrow purple ACME University varsity jacket, Brown jogging pants, and still wears the same shoes as his casual outfit

Power/Skill:

Slingshot Sharpshooting: As a kid, he always wanted a slingshot for his birthday and it came true it was given to his childhood best friend. His slingshot skills used to hit just for the fun of it for hitting cans used toys that he does not need, and targets and now it has become a skill for him.

Fireworks Chemistry: Science was his favorite subject when he discovered chemistry in school. In his first science project in intermediate level, he made homemade firecrackers. When his first firecracker succeeded it inspired him to weaponize his chemistry with fireworks.

Cheating Intuition: Just because he is smart does not mean he is too smart. Sometimes in written exams when he finds something very hard, he finds a way to cheat successfully without even noticing including spelling bees and trivia contests. However, most of his cheating style does not mean sabotaging rivals. Yet...

Military Combat: Tiger has never been and has no interest in military school. But when a hobo rescued him from female criminal gang who attacked him first as he was going about to go home. The hobo told Tiger that if he is interested in training military fighting styles to defend himself. However, one condition for him as payment is that all the hobo needs is just fast food. Because it was too tiring for a hobo to train him all the time and he needed the food. So, every time Tiger buys fast food for the hobo, he makes a deal to train.

Enhanced Concealment: Sometimes the trouble may come to him. When he is completely wanted by police, teachers, or prefects. Tiger can hide anywhere he go.

Lock picking: In his elementary years he stole a portable game console from a bully that the teacher confiscated. As for revenge, he managed to not just steal the confiscated game console but all the rest of the items too.

Weapons/Items: 

Guttersnipe (Custom-made expandable slingshot): An expandable ACME-made slingshot with a custom-painted cyberpunk theme that can fit like a pocket knife. It also has an attachable scope that was used to be part of a sniper rifle. This weapon is mostly nonlethal but can be lethal depending on which ammo.

The Romana: A Roman candle with a theme that looks like a Roman pillar that shoots firework balls if you press the shoot button like a magic wizard wand. It even gives extra damage when you swing and it has refillable Roman candle ammo.

Fireworks: Fireworks he uses are either homemade, store-bought or even secretly bought. Tiger can use more than 74 types of fireworks.

(Copy paste or click here on what are the fireworks)

https://www.jakesfireworks.com/fireworks-types-and-definition

Rule Breaker: A special long ruler that is made of golden metal. Despite the weapon having sharp edges and he has a no-kill rule policy he still uses it like a sword to rather injure instead of kill like a blunt weapon when rotating only in a flat position but if he switches to a sharp edge position, he can use the weapon to slice anything but never uses it to kill.

Other info:

His parent's parents were born in the Philippines meaning that he is a Filipino born in the United States 

Has no interest in dating women, men, etc. But to hang out as friends.

He is an Aro-Ace/ Queer platonic meaning both aromatic and asexual.

Kicked out of the cheering squad over the tiniest injury in high school and quit the basketball team all because of mistreatment to play basketball by himself.

He hated bullies even if it did not have to do with him. Gender, adult, parent, child, elderly rich or poor he treats everyone equally and believes in equality

He is a pacifist because he is obviously a student but even not a student and kills in video games he still never kills.

Jock on the outside but Nerd on the inside

Specializes in making homemade fireworks and graffiti

Expert in slingshots, plays basketball, American football, and soccer all by himself. Dodgeball is for PE lessons. But mostly basketball.

His favorite is Valentine's chocolates

Does not affect the meteor crash

Loves to drink cans of ACME sodas in different types

Loves to eat fancy expensive food but also food from vendors

His favorite holiday is New Years and Chinese New Year

Before he came to Acmetropolis he did not have a job at all because his parents said that education was important

Loves to watch Bollywood action movies for not just the story and music but the action movie physics that Hollywood can’t do

In public, He rescued 2 people types of couples. He rescued a girlfriend who was abused by her boyfriend and rescued a boyfriend who was abused by his girlfriend. In both of the situations, he failed when persuading but fixed the solution with violence without killing. That is what he means by believing in equality

He does not care that people tell him that he is treated as the bad guy. He only believes in equality

He now likes to wear smaller clothing for his sleepwear after he stays in Acmetropolis like the size of tennis shorts and silk shirts.

He earns money with random events and errands. But mostly he does dumpster diving with the racoon siblings he first met.

Description:

Tiger Leaps may have the look of a bully, act like a bully and a fighting style of a bully but unlike the usual bully he is an anti-bully. As an anti-bully he uses it to do good and help other in need and live in his own apartment alone and goes around Acmetropolis all by himself with errands or random events.

However, Tiger has a secret past on why he came to Acmetropolis in the first place.

Trivia:

• Tiger is heavily inspired by Jimmy Hopkins from the video game Bully. But also, Dick from a cartoon called Cow and Chicken in the episode Karate Chick in Season 2 Episode 12

• His casual clothing colors represent him as both Aromatic and Asexual

• Slightly inspired by Peacemaker for equality but prefers hurting not killing

• In his casual attire, the black t-shirt has a graffiti text with the number 143 is a reference to a Filipino-made basketball anime Barangay 143

• Hero

• His sleepwear has colors of a queerplatonic hoverboard race (later mission)

[uummyuu]

the azul headcanons

big strong man that the show really doesn't utilize enough... wish we had more knowledge on the other members' names though :((

although de los santos is the only one who outright states he's aztec, i'd like to think the entire team is of aztec descent in some way.

anyways fun fact about aztec tattoos, they're usually designed to honor a chosen god so that they may provide blessings of prosperity, strength, health, etc. i don't want to look too deep on what was probably a tattoo designed on whim but it seems pretty close to the aztec calendar? or an iteration of the aztec sun god huitzilopochtli, the interpretation is very vague.

if we go by the thought that this is a tattoo of the aztec calendar, the tattoo itself could mean eternity and connection. de los santos in the show itself kind of rues the fact that what was once his home is now simply brushed of as the forgotten city or something to be left in the history books. with this tattoo it's his way of keeping his home and his friends by his side forever.

but also a tattoo of huitzilopochtli can symbolize power as well as sacrifice. some tattoos of the sun god are stylized to just be the sun with the god's face on it(although typically depicted with 8 rays instead of the weird 13 on his tattoo). santos' power is never understated in the show and his tattoo could be a testament to that.

the other members probably have their tattoos either on their chest or back to keep them out of sight, probably eagles to symbolize power and bravery, or maybe even a literal quetzlcoatl to symbolize wisdom. aspects that would be useful on the playing field.

anyways please see my vision of de los santos with a whole extensive aztec back tattoo on him

ok back to your regularly scheduled program, santos has bench pressed the entire team on his back once and it was recorded somewhere. the video resurfaces on natter everytime the azul play a game.

i read in a 4-panel comic that klaus actually has santos' jersey? i'll try and find it but anyways if some lucky fan manages to get it congrats you basically have a new blanket, that shirt is huge. (or if he has a tiny s/o who he loves smothering in his clothing i dunno 👀)

overall i'd like to think the team is just one big family, they have shared ancestry and that solidifies the bond they share with each other even if they aren't exactly related.

the other team members worry about santos taking on too much, with his reputation as an extremely difficult goalkeeper to get past when he does lose a point to the opposition it hits him hard. so the team does their best to pull their own weight, they want to have santos' back as much as he watches theirs.

de los santos is very much a protector type, i don't think he'd be the azul's captain, but he's definitely a pillar of support and morale for the team. (kind of a big bo and dancing rasta dynamic?)

the team definitely worries about relying on santos too much, but in reality santos likes being reliable and strong in the eyes of others, he longs to be needed so he doesn't end up as "forgotten" just like his home did.

honestly these guys probably try to keep out of the media too, but when they do get on an interview other than talking about the game they love talking about their culture. as "exotic" and "forgotten" it may seem to interviewers, to the team it's merely the childhood memories that link them all together. even if the city itself no longer stands.

i'm gonna make de los santos dating headcanons one day i swear because i have so much more to say about him—

[cryopathiic-a]

POWER, SAFELY DEFIED, TOUCHES ITS DOWNFALL

It was a calamity, a brewing storm that wished to be unleashed. Nakime place was secure, a heavy sigh leaving them to be spared the wrath of their lord and master. Their creator was not pleased, with lack of results, diminishing returns upon the investment of their blood. The chosen had stalled, staggering and fallen, the system, for centuries has been struck at by their enemies, a thousand times it had remained standing tall within the land, but the lower levels have at last crumbled under the weight of expectations, simple and easy to be obtained for those who had been chosen –

“Lord Doma –”

Their appearance, was out of nowhere, they were just standing right behind him. Head lowered down, to bow to him. The laws clear, demons could slaughter and kill all that they wish, they can turn upon their brethren at a moments notice and devour them and steal their power, but this one, was a well guarded secret, only shared with the upper moons. Not to be touched, not to be bothered, not a single word to be passed to them, that would be an insult. The great eye of there lord, the voice of there master, the one who protects them more, than all the others combined, without rank, station, titles, yet she stands higher than them all combined –

“Your presence has been requested my lord –”

Did he know, did he feel it, the end and downfall of the lower moons. There cries and attempts to bargain with their creator, or rather foolishly, to merely try and flee from the wrath of the one who had brought them into the world and gifted them every single advantage they needed to fulfill their roles. Yet nothing, for centuries the lower moons, offered nothing to there master, but everything to the enemy, a means to test slayers, experience gathered, the measuring stick and final selection to who will become a pillar and who will not - that was not the purpose of them, to be used for the enemy, to become stronger.

“Immediately, it would be unwise, to stall my lord –” As they offered the mighty lord this at least, for his station and titles, she did not pluck him out of thin air, less he had been in the middle of a sermon. “They are at the entertainment district to clear there head –” With a small bow of there head, they stepped back to allow them to finish what they were in the middle of, time was limited, there master would not wait, especially now considering —

“My lord –” A small hesitation, should they tell them, offer this to them, they where to be seen and not heard, only speaking when necessary, only doing what they were told, and speaking to their lord to offer advice. “I advise caution, a warning to you –” That it would be unwise to test the patience of their master, it would be suidice, if lower moons have been killed, what was stopping.

An upper moon being killed to ease the pain and suffering.

Knees sunk in plush pink; sinking deeper with the hunch of broad shoulders. The pointy tips of lavender claws threatened his chin with a scratch every so often, held before his chest, pressed together firmly. Dim light shone through the imposing mural of the Sun God, casting a half-glare, half-smile to the faithful beneath; primarily, the Lord Founder himself as his cadence murmured the lead of their joined condolence.

❝ Reverently, I prostrate with my body, speech, and mind; I present clouds of every type of offering, actual and imagined; I declare all my negative actions accumulated since the beginning of time—❞

Lord Dōma.

❝ ... And rejoice in the merit of all holy and ordinary beings. ❞

Mundane voices joined to accompany the hymn. It was as melodic as it was imposing; music and prayer combined. Some whimpered, without knowing why. The frozen lotus' palms lowered ever so slightly, prismatic hues moving to meet the depicted cat-like slits that had cast punishment and gifted pleasure to so many; himself included.

Nakime-chan? What honor do I possibly owe this intermission to?

His voice is bubbly through the connection, nothing like the tranquil mutter that passes through the humans like the caress of a relieving summer breeze. One minute, he was in that room, surrounded by his followers' warm breaths and joined heartbeats, the other, he was on the floorboards of the Infinity Castle, prostrated before his master's favored guard dog. Upper Two straightened up, sitting on his knees with a bewildered expression, hands dropping to rest idly on his lap as he listened; prudently.

Of course he had felt it. When one powerful demon dies, it can be felt, to those who open their minds to the collective and reach out through the blood bond shared amongst their kin; so, when several died at once... It would be safe to say there was a reason for the pensive atmosphere in tonight's evening sermon. All but one; that he could still feel, pulsating with fresh blood — the Dreamweaver had been chosen, as the last lower moon alive.

Even he had the sense to know what that meant.

She was furious.

My lord, I advise caution, a warning to you...

❝ Awh, you worry about me, Nakime? That's so sweet of you~ ❞ A boyish smile would not give away his true thoughts on the matter. This would require a practiced silver tongue to untangle; and soothe the mess that was their master's hearts at that rate. Only a demon that was truly pure and enlightened could carry through with such a task; a demon that held no animosity, that reached out to the poor and suffering to offer solace; and to those who have yet to achieve nirvana, he would deliver it.

❝ Don't fret, I'll be fine! I'm sure Master just needs a compassionate ear, right now, more than ever; and as you know, I'm a great listener... so if anything's bothering you at some point— ❞ A playful swat of his hand, waving her worries away with a chuckle - yet, measured, as he was soon returned to the very same space from which she contacted him, a parallel dimension that was not even perceptible to puny human eyes. The sudden strum of her biwa had him facing that unyielding glare of the mural once more, and all effervescence was killed on the spot, his expression turning to a cold deadpan.

Please, remain until the end of cyclic existence...

❝ Tenzin. ❞ The name was uttered softly. One of the acolytes clad in ceremonial pulu with a yellow cloth apron lifted his bald head. It was an older man, elder than most. The Lord Founder wore a pensive furrowed brow and pout when addressing him. ❝ Finish the sermon for me, will you? I don't feel so good. ❞ They were already on their feet, towering to full height.

" My Lord- "

❝ Do as I ask, please. No questions. ❞ Their clawed hand left a gentle caress over the human's chest as they brushed past him; and almost seemed to walk through him, with a prismatic gaze seeming lost as it swam in the nothingness in the distance — heading for a direction only they could know.

... and turn the wheel of Dharma for living beings...

The aura of colors; a nauseating, hypnotizing sight — a portal, through which to step into the other; the unknown that awaited him in that disheveled room of some prestigious entertainment house. A long time ago, Upper Two would roam these streets for spoils, wearing a different mark in his eye. And he had lavished the various houses and known them all by name, once, but that was some time back. Now, he could only hope whatever awaited him at the other side of that door would not be heralding his own demise; because the Goddess' whims are mercurial, and even he would know better than to challenge her wrath.

A slender palm placed on the door to offer one, no two knocks, just in case, and wait for permission to enter; clad in human clothing so as not to attract suspicion from the oiran whispering at the hallways; a long kimono adorned in golden lotuses and gilded with a silken sash. And upon entering, to take in the sight, looking only a little lost as his mind begun to make that first assessment of just how dire the situation could be, he slid the door shut and dropped to his knees gracefully, the kimono sprawling around his prostrated form.

❝ Konbanwa, Master Muzan. ❞ A honeyed tone. Their palms connected, sprawled between their knees as they sat, and avoided those blazing plum reds for once; knowing better than to challenge her gaze at such a moment. ❝ I extend my condolences. How may I service you, my Lord? ❞

I dedicate my own merits and those of all others to the great enlightenment.

[bashedberries]

(space prince Lúcio x Space Criminal Junkrat)

I literally have never posted here before so idk if the formats okay or not. Anyways here’s my writing.

part 1/ part ? . 4.8k words

Techno music played throughout the marble walls, bouncing off the pillars that held the building high with pride. The palace was a cream color, warm and welcoming for any person who wished to enter into the lively building. People with extravagant, silk and leather clothing, their voices jumbled together almost incomprehensible as the music played fluidly. To hear what was said to you, you must speak in their neck, breathing heavily on one another in an almost uncomfortable manner. 

That was how it was with the host of this party, despite growing used to everyone's thanks and comments on how generous and wondrous the parties were. The prince nearly gagged at the smell of alcohol stained breath, stinging the back of his throat as he grinned along with the people who accompanied him for the night. His clothes were made of fine cloth, complimenting his fair skin as it hugged and clung to his body. His feet numb to how much he had been standing, his gloved hands working expertly against the booth in which the music played. This was his language, the way he conversed with people of all types of social and power based statuses. 

His dark brown eyes hidden by the orange tint of his glasses that hung over the bridge of his nose as the muscles on his face nearly bruised from how much he had been smiling. His fingers danced across the green metal edges of his booth, the music causing him to feel his heart pump through his entire being. It was loud, it was energetic, an open change compared to being able to hear the sound of his roller skates against the tile of his floors. He felt human. The smell of fine wines along with many other substances filled his senses with adrenaline, scanning over the room to see everyone with joy filled expressions. They are people who feel open enough to not feel the pressure of the world around them, the one this planet is becoming. His gaze was caught, however. A group of people slipped through the corners of the room and into a room that was off limits, his lips faltering for a moment before he glanced around to see if anyone had noticed them. Not a soul noticed them. 

Picking at his ring over his gloved hands, he pressed a few buttons on the board, sending the songs to go in a periodical loop as he shifted his feet to walk over. Custom golden painted skates, of his design of course. They were quiet as he strolled through the crowds of people that wanted him to join them in their festivities. He declined all, bee lining over to the corner of the room he had closed off, knowing that there were people behind it he couldn’t help but feel anxious. Taking his hand to press the button, feeling the gust of air from the heavy door sliding open he wandered into the room. 

“Hey,” He greeted, his voice light toned as looked around the room to see where they sat. “This room is reserved for someone else- You aren’t supposed to-” The young man was cut off by the door closing behind him, making him look over his shoulder to look up and see a large someone loom over him. He immediately tightened his lip to now face him, the man's broadening staring down the shorter man. 

“Prince Lucio,” The alien’s accent thick, his large mechanical arm unclenching as he gave the young man a nod. Lucio sighed in relief, his hand over his chest as he picked at his medals. The man gave a grin to him as he let out a small laugh, 

“Jeez, you needa warn me when you come in like this! You scared me.” He explained, putting his hands on his hips as he looked up at him. “I didn't know you were coming, Bonebreaker.” The larger, violet man gave a neutral look, as usual. The man crossed his arms over his chest as he looked down at the prince, 

“My apologies, but it was urgent to come here.” Bonebreaker mused, his all black eyes staring down Lucio. The Brazilian man shook his head, understanding the leader’s reasoning.

“Don’t sweat it, you and everyone else are always welcome in my home.” He gave a smile, looking over at the rest of the rest of them. It was a wide variety of humans, aliens, criminal or not, all fighting under a cause that was for the better. The people standing before Lucio were called The Watchers, a rebellion group fighting against the Empire that the prince now realizes is just as bad as any crook. They fight for justice and wish to bring to light what the Infinite Empire has done to its people behind closed doors. Lucio only found them out as of recently, overhearing from the Royal captain, who he had grown up with, Brigitta. The group fascinated him, so he sought them out and realized what their cause really was, to which afterwards join the group himself. 

It was a very small group of bandits, yet they had much force carried with them to be considered a threat to the Empire. A bounty hunter, a 3CH-0 model, the starship engineer, two types of animalistic aliens who had escaped from the Lunar Colony that took place on the moon, and then Doomfist. An unfamiliar face was in the corner of the room, however. A lankier man, who much like almost everyone in the room, had a prosthetic arm and a peg leg. A bit outdated looking, but it suited the man. His face was sharp and long, his piercing yellow eyes almost not blinking as he stared back at Lucio. The prince clenched his jaw as he looked at the leader of the group. 

“Who’s this?” Lucio questioned, looking up at Bonebreaker. The blue man’s gaze shifted to the man, who seemed to now be distracted with the decor that was placed around the room. The leader sighed, 

“He, along with his bodyguard, have joined our cause as of late. Both criminals wanted with quite a lot on their head. He will help us smuggle them into their facility.” He explained, making Lucio tilt his head a bit to look back over at the man. He was shirtless, wearing a heavy leather vest over his back as he did not wear a shirt under. Goggles, which Lucio wasn’t even sure you could look through, sat over his forehead as he then looked over at Lucio again. The man stiffened as he had his hand behind his back, slowly moving it to return the golden vase back on its stand. He gave a toothy grin, visible false gold teeth scattered throughout his attempt to look innocent. 

Lucio grimaced, tilting his head before looking back over at Bonebreaker. “Really…?” He asked, almost in a distraught manner. This man, this criminal looked unprofessional and a clutz, yet Lucio bit his tongue at his opinion on the man before hearing the leader hum. “Yes. He is a loose cannon, so having him on our side will give us an advantage.” Lucio looked back at the man, his eyebrows furrowed a bit as he looked him up and down through his orange tinted glasses. 

The lanky man rubbed the stubble over his chin before waving his hand to bow towards the Prince, his head lifting up in a lopsided grin as he spoke. 

“Jamison Fawkes, also known as the Solar Pyro,” His voice grained, making Lucio flinch at the way he whined, “It will be an utmost pleasure working with you, your Majesty.” Lucio had to prevent himself from scoffing, looking around the room in distaste to see the rest of the people’s reactions to his greeting. Clearing his throat, Lucio forced his lip to curl up into an uncertain smile, he had heard of this ‘Pyro’ before, but only from people who heard from people before them. 

“Uh, yeah. Likewise.” Lucio spoke, uncertainty laced in his attempt to stay polite. Looking over at Bonebreaker again he gave a more honest smile. “The Royal Captain was meant to come here later this evening, I think it will be best if you stay in here for now.” He explained to him, earning a nod from him as Lucio glanced back at the newer member who still looked his way.Upon hearing the music grow louder in the main room, Lucio looks away from him and proceeds to look back at Bonebreaker. He chewed on the inside of his cheek before speaking again, 

“Well, gotta go now! I can’t stay back here for too long or people will grow sketched out.” He said, soon enough he glided out of the room carefully, the sound of skates growing quieter as he shut the door behind him.

“You heard the boy,” the shorter, orange man spoke out loud, looking towards the lanky new recruit. “No causing a ruckus, ya here? We have to stay quiet.” The engineer, Torbjorn Lindholm, said to Pyro. He was one of the shortest people in the room, but that did not deter his loud and rather intimidating features. The younger man looked down at Torbjorn, squinting his eyes at him before sighing. 

“Why ya always think I’m gonna run off! I can be quiet!” The man said loudly, his voice just as whiny as earlier, making the man grimace and roll his eye. He sat on the counter with his hands on his knees, sitting cross legged as he looked down at the Swedish man. 

“You can’t be serious.” The engineer said in bafflement, raising his eyebrows at the young man then at the other men in the group as if he was looking around to see if he was hearing the same thing.

“He is right,” The leader, Akande, spoke as he looked over at the two of them, “You need to lay low, do not do anything idiotic.” Jamison huffed almost childishly, folding his prosthetic arm over his own as he hunched over. His expression was displeased as he looked around the room. 

“It’s boring in here! There’s nothing to do! We were invited into this blokes fancy schmancy home and we stayed locked in a closet? Some hospitality.” He groaned as he looked back over at Bonebreaker, before clenching his jaw as he noticed the man’s neutral expression. He gulped as he then straightened up and put his hands up defensively as he spoke,

“N-Not that I’m complaining or anythin’! Is a good room, really cozy- and totally not a place for us to get found!” He gave a toothy grin, his gold caps making his lip curl as he waved his hands to defuse the silent tension. Akande sighed, before closing his eyes to look at the other men in the group, 

“We have important matters to discuss,” the leader spoke clearly, pushing himself from off the wall he was leaning on to look over at Jamison again. He took his non weaponized hand and pointed it up at him directly. “You are not to move from that spot.” He commanded, causing Jamison to stare at him surprised. He then smiled again and saluted, 

“Consider me a statue, bossman! You won’t know I was here.” He said before putting his hand back in his lap. Watching the rest of the men enter into the other room, closing the door behind them, Jamison let out a groan as he slumped his shoulders. He had a displeased expression on his face as he looked around the room, the pyromaniac was still new to the group so he was not given ‘group meeting’ privileges yet. Much to his dismay. So he just groaned as he sat around the room in an irking silence, thinking about what exactly he could do in this moment.

The main party room was bustling with more people than before, it was later at night so in schedule to what the prince had intended for the party. The main lights were turned off and it had more LED and blue lighting, the prince was illuminated with his green skates and orange tinted glasses. The party goers that were dressed in white stuck out, the prince couldn’t help but notice the stains of food and booze over their collars. 

Lucio was anxious, staring intently around the room as was behind his music stand, tuning and transitioning the music ever so often to keep his guest stimulated and content. He however, found it distracting and difficult to ease himself when taking care of the music, for once. Despite his family's business with the transporting of crystals on their family’s shuttle port and trade, he had his own fame and name. He was Lucio Correia Dos Santos, music artist and producer who made sure to hear others and be heard of his people’s struggles and protest. Even though he is much underground with his music he used a tech called a Sonic Amplifier, which makes the music heal the soul and body. 

His eyes trained to the buttons and switches and tuned the music into a different song, pressing a button to make sure it does the same thing over. He stepped off from his booth, gliding through the people and waiters around the party, and towards the bar he requested to be built into the ballroom. It was dark, the yellow and green lighting from above and that was built under the counter helping him guide his way to sit on the bench. The bar itself was more lit with a yellow hue, less hectic. He smiled at the bartender, his hands on the counter as he rested his elbows over the edges. 

“Could I have my usual, please?” He felt bad almost, he sometimes forgot the tenders name- despite hiring him for a couple months. The reptilian looking man nodded and turned his back to the prince to fix him his drink.

“Right away, I’ll finish this drink for another than I’ll help you, your majesty.” Lucio furrowed his eyebrows, he was pretty sure that when he walked up there was no one to be seen. That was before he had a double take to the corner of the bar near the wall, the tall blonde man who had his hair clumsily slicked back. His prosthetic arm pressed against the counter as he was seen looking towards the crowd of dancers, not noticing the prince's confused gaze. 

Lucio took a moment to double check if it was actually him or not, and realizing that it was he felt himself scan the room around him to remember that Brigette didn’t come yet. He took this chance to roll over to the man leaning against the bar, chewing the inside of his cheek as he scanned his features. He was tall, now that he wasn’t hunched over, about over six feet at least, he had a sharp jaw and a pointy crooked nose, and was missing a few teeth. The gold caps he had seemed to be real, much to Lucio’s surprise, seeing how inexpensive his entire look was. He had two prosthetics, a prosthetic almost dark purple arm and a steel peg leg- both obviously unprofessionally done. Possibly hand made? Lucio didn’t think so seeing how much of a character he was. 

The prince grimaced before forcing a smile on his face to look up at Jamison, looking around one more time before speaking to him. 

“Hey! Uh- Jamison, right?” Lucio asked, uncertain if even approaching him was a good idea at all. The Austrailians head snapped to the side before looking down at the prince, his already wide eyes expanding as his lip tightened. Then he grinned down at him and shifted against the counter.

“Ah! Lucy! What a funny thing running into you here!” He said, loud enough to hear over the music. His lopsided grin took over the majority of his face as he tilted his head, intertwining his own fingers as he leaned on the counter. 

“That’s..not my name. It’s Lucio.” He laughed flatly, squinting his eyes at him as he kept his forced grin. “Did you forget that I said that like- you shouldn’t be out here?” The young prince asked, looking at him up and down as his lip curled slightly in discomfort.

Jamison blinked again, before speaking in his usual grating voice. 

“Well ya see Prince, being in that confined room for as long as I have. I assumed that whatever guard or bloke who would cause us trouble would’ve been gone already! Besides, I’m thirsty ‘and there's nothing to drink in that room.” He replied to him, the bartender handing Jamison the drink in his hand, Lucio watched him thank the tender and begin drinking it. The blond let out a pleased sigh before looking back at Lucio, with a grin.

Lucio however was not as amused, letting out a soft sigh before looking at him. “No that’s not- a good reason to risk being seen here.” He said to him, glancing over his shoulder to see if anyone was watching. He had his hands up to make sure no one but Jamison would hear him. Lucio had a worried look on his face as he stared at Jamison in bewilderment, “You can’t be for real.” Jamison looked down at him before rolling his eyes in annoyance, 

“Oh c’mon Lucy, ya making it a big deal! No one will know I’m here!” He said with a grin, finishing his drink as he put it back on the counter. Lucio felt himself roll his eyes as well, but obviously more unamused by their conversation.

“It’s Lucio! I told you that.” He corrected, his hands crossed over his chest as he stared at the lankier man. The Prince took a moment of consideration as he clicked his tongue, “But fine, just promise me you’ll go back to the room once you’re done.” He said, a furrowed gaze looking up at the criminal. Lucio would be lying if he didn’t make him feel nervous to a degree, he wasn’t sure if it was the way he carried himself. Maybe his tall, broad physique or the fact that he was just a literal pyromaniac. Maybe all of those reasons. The way the man grinned widely as he put his hand on Lucio’s shoulder as a thanks, then proceeded to get another drink. 

“I’m gonna make sure you don’t get wasted though, so take it easy.” The prince warned, which Jamison nodded. 

“Of course! I can hold my own, no problem!” He spoke, resting his arm on the counter again as he looked at the Prince. “So! You’re a royal. How’s that? Is it as extravagant as they say it is? Ya drink ya water with diamond cups?” 

Lucio was given his drink from the bartender, he’s thinking to himself he’s going to need it to stay sane in this conversation. “Uh- it’s okay, I guess. We don’t use diamonds though, too tacky.” He took a sip from the glass in his hands, his finger rubbing against the rim of the cup.

“Really? What yer daddy do?” Jamsion’s gaze was shifted onto Lucio, then back down to his cup as he had it in his hand.

“My dad? Owns the sound crystal trade and all the ships that transport it.” Lucio explained, looking back over at Jamison when he found him looking away. The Prince then remembered his father and mother, chewing the inside of his cheek as he looked towards the door of the party room. His family was loyal to the empire, he knew that, but they didn’t know that Lucio has had his doubts for quite some time. The amount of trouble he’d get in was something he hoped he’d never experience. 

“That so?” The man spoke, making Lucio look back up at him as they spoke. “So yer rich rich.” Jamison smiled, raising his eyebrows over at the shorter prince. “Do you get the money once your old man decides to clock out?” The prince furrowed his eyebrows at Jamison, finding his wording odd but he nodded. 

“Yeah uh, once I get old enough to inherit the throne, it’ll all be mine.” Jamison made a hum in acknowledgment, eyeing down at the shorter man for a moment. Lucio stood with him in a thick silence, the music in the room blasting so loud it almost sounds distant to the Prince. 

“One heck of a party you have here, mate! Ya usually have it this lively?” He chirped again, leaning closer to Lucio as they spoke so Jamison could hear him. 

“Oh uh- yeah, I do. Every weekend. Sometimes I have them during the week but I host them when my parents are off doing their own thing.” Lucio spoke up, shifting his body away when Jamison came close. He smelled of liquor with some other unidentified scene he couldn’t pinpoint, gunpowder? Either way, it didn’t sit well with his senses. 

“Really now? Sounds like one heck of a time! You're always here when you do?” He questioned,  leaning against the counter to get a better look at the prince, staring through his orange tinted glasses. Jamison also had a bit of a glow, but he didn’t need glasses. His eyes were literally glowing, which was odd to Lucio since he looked like your average human. Maybe he was mixed? Lucio didn’t care to ask.

“Yeah. I run the music and it wouldn’t be cool if the host just didn't show up to his own party.” The man forced a smile on his face as he stared over at him, the other man nodded and laughed. Lucio grimaced a bit, but laughed with him- as much as Jamison was…a character, he didn’t come off to him as a horrible person. Yes, he was a criminal but he couldn’t hold that accountable. Just even having this rebellion sit in his private room was treason enough. 

“I heard ya make music yourself! Banned in a couple places around here.” He smirked, raising a brow at the prince as he waited for confirmation. Lucio looked up in surprise, blinking at him before nodding. 

“Yeah, actually. But I didn’t know it was banned, it’s just techno.” He confirmed, looking off to the side before sipping his drink. “It’s more of a side thing.” Jamison smirked widely, squinting at him.

“Oh no no. I heard you use them crystals. Making a borderline weapon.” Jamison continued, speaking as if he was normal. Lucio side eyed him, his eyebrows furrowed a bit as he looked at the bartender that was standing there cleaning some glasses. He was listening, Lucio knew of that. Looking back over at Jamison he sighed, 

“What are you on about? Why would I do that?” He scoffed, rolling his eyes before narrowing his eyes at Jamison as if a way to be quiet. Jamison blinked at him and tilted his head,

“Ya sure? They got the same name as you ‘n everything! Lucio Dos Santos? Eh, I dunno.” Lucio felt himself inhale as he just kept a smile on his face. 

“Lucio’s a popular name. Besides, how would I even do that? My father never let me near the cargo. Not yet anyways.” The Prince gave him a look up and down, drinking out of his cup as he also leaned on the counter before leaning over to the taller man. “What are you doing? Keep it down.” Lucio said through his smile, his eyebrows furrowing a bit.

“What I’d do? I’m just curious!” He put his hands up defensively, his mechanical hand shifting to the side more than it should. Lucio gave him a look before he let out a sigh, looking over at the dance floor to notice people speaking about getting a drink. The Prince now grabbed the man's wrist and began rolling away. Jamison finished his drink and placed it on the counter before being dragged off by the shorter man. Lucio found Jamison staring down at him as they went back into the private room, letting out a soft sigh.

“Okay for real this time, you need to go back before you get seen.” The prince spoke, his eyebrows furrowed together as they walked back towards the corner of the party. 

“Oh c’mon, ya got a whole party and bar n you expect me not to come out.” He groaned, slouching his shoulders to basically be near his height now. Lucio almost felt bad, but at the same time he couldn’t risk anything. Plus, whatever he was going on about when mentioning the sound crystals he was using- it made him on edge. Why was he talking about that so openly? It’s like he didn’t get the seriousness of saying all of that in front of people who don’t even work for him but his parents. 

“I get it but man you can’t be saying all that stuff about the sound amp so loud!” Lucio said, still holding Jamison’s wrist as they made it around the party to be not caught. 

“So it’s no joke? The real deal, you made ‘em?” Jamison asked just as loudly, making Lucio stare at him with a wide gaze.

“No! I mean- I did but. Just-. Shush!” He said to him, before making it towards the door and practically dragging the tall man into the room. Jamison was pushed inside the room, being let go and he put his hands up defensively. 

“Oh no need to be embarrassed, mate! That’s mighty impressive! I was just curious on how ya did it.” He questioned, a grin on his face as he looked down at Lucio. The prince huffed, shutting his eyes in annoyance before looking back at him.

“No that’s not- my dad doesn’t know you guys are here. They’re loyalists. So if anyone, the staff, a member, anyone finds out you guys are crashing here? I’m busted!” He explained, his hands on his waist as he spoke. Lucio wasn’t trying to get mad or irritate the rather oblivious criminal, but it needs to be known of the situation and risk Lucio is willing to make for them. 

Jamison looked down at him, eyes darting all around him before making a noise as if he just got it. “Ohhhh I get it! Sorry about that, mate.” He grinned, eyebrows raising at him. Lucio gave him a look, as if he didn’t believe him. 

“Is there a problem?” Both of the men snapped their heads to see Akadae standing there from the other room, staring between the two. Jamison quickly straightened his posture as he gave a smile, eyebrows knitted together nervously. 

“Boss! Uh- nope! No problem here! Just two buds having a good ol time!” Jamison said quickly, his voice much louder and prominent now that there wasn’t that much background noise. Akadae looked at Jamison with a neutral look, before looking down at Lucio, which prompted a look of irritation back. Side eyeing Jamison with a bit of a frown, he looked away. 

“He left the room to get a drink. Maybe it’s better to not have him risk my old man finding out about you guys.” Lucio complained, feeling Jamison’s gaze snap onto Lucio-clearly alarmed. Akadae approached Jamison, making him back up into a corner as his back hit a wall. Jamison looked up at Akadae with a nervous lopsided grin. 

“He-Hey now, uh-” Akadae interrupted him, “Will you be a problem, Fawkes? I do not want to regret letting you and your friend join this cause.”  

Lucio noticed Jamison tense instantly, shaking his head quickly as he tried defusing the conversation.

“N-No! I’ll be good, besides I made sure I didn’t get seen! It wasn’t like I was out there causing a ruckus.” Jamison looked anxious, Akadae just stared him down before stepping off away from him. 

“Next time, do not get out. Before I make sure you are watched.” Akadae said, Lucio standing on the other side of the room as he had his arms crossed as he watched. 

“Of course, Mister Bonebreaker..sir.” Jamison laughed nervously, before standing up straight and raising his right prosthetic arm and his other hand over his chest. He tried to appear more serious, but to Lucio, he looked idiotic.

 “I promise you will not hear anything from me! Thief’s honor!” Lucio had to prevent himself from rolling his eyes, looking away from the two of them as he began making his way towards the door again. 

“I have to go again. For real this time, don’t get out until I tell y’all to. Please.” He said, trying to sound polite but his irritation was apparent. To one of them at least. 

Lucio walked back out of the room again, letting out a groan as his hand rubbed underneath his glasses to rub at his temples. That was too risky, Lucio knew that, but he almost felt bad for the man. That oblivious, foolish man that he has to work with from here on out. A groan of distaste left his mouth.

[kitsunesakii]

Transparency

(Reuploaded)

"We think we are going to transfer you to the Oak Provence Region."

"Sir?" Core stood in the commander's- Superhero's - office for the third time this year, getting transferred again..... For the third time this year. And she was just settling into the Western Sector.

"The Super Villain has been moved up from a type D to a type A, but we are having problems getting evidence to arrest."

she blinked, mildly bored of the topic. Admittedly not extremely surprised that they were transferring her. letting her nest in a city just long enough to get all knowledge on the current baddie to expose them before they moved her to the next one.

Charlie was part of the Intelligence Agency, a select group of supers that put their powers into stealth, gathering info on gangs and hierarchy. The pillars that kept the peace, even if it didn't seem like it.

"Jane? Are you here with me?"

"Yeah." she answered flatly. "So when's the transfer?"

"We already took the liberty of packing your bags, you leave tonight."

A small bitter scoff squeaked through her lips, doubt he heard it. Of course they already packed her stuff, she only had the illusion of control. Silly, since they couldn't touch her.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Charlie entered her new apartment in Oak Provence Region, Hero Branch complex 5. These were the apartments that were constructed to the likes and needs of the superheroes of the city, no matter what Agency they were a part of.

Her's was an anti-gravity chamber. She had an interesting ability. It was more of a curse.

Her parents worked in the Radiation Agency, a not-so-well-named facility that helped the A-B class heroes with training. When she was 8, she was in the facility when an explosion went off. It wasn't your average explosion either, the Hero Division was working with test subjects on a radiation fusion that let them faze through matter.

The Hero Division told the media that it was a harmless blast. They failed to mention the 8 year old that's powers fused with the experiment making her incorporeal, ghost-like.

It was nice at first. She was able to walk through walls and slip through ceilings. Until she realized that it took a lot of energy to keep her feet on the ground. Or build enough matter in her hands to shake someone else's. Hence the anti-gravity chamber.

It looked like a normal apartment, except for the reinforced steel walls and no furniture. And the red button on the wall. The only type of furnishing was just a rope that hung loosely in case she wanted to pull herself around.

She entered the apartment and firmly closed the door, dropping her bag and immediately pressing the button.

There was no sound to it, just a small pop in her ears and then.... she was floating.

A small sigh escaped her as she untensed all her muscles, the soundless, weightless feeling flooding over her in the sweet euphoria of sleep.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Charlie opened her eyes. Blinking a few times as she stretched out her arms and breathed. A 100,000 thoughts rushing through her head.

she didn't need to be told her assignment, it was already clear. she was useful since you couldn't really hurt her. Locks didn't stop her. Acid or poison can't connect to skin that isn't sold. Mind control can't penetrate a brain that fades in and out. The perfect weapon.

She dragged her hands through her hair, slipping into an oversized hoodie, and exiting her apartment.

Because she needed zero gravity she couldn't have windows, that didn't shorten her surprise to walk outside and see that it was still dark out. And she didn't own a watch.

The city was seemingly alive with energy. Cars and buses roared by on roads, kicking up mud and sewage that collected on corners of pavement.

Skyscrapers challenged each other in sky high lengths, making even the clouds glow a little.

The scene made her take an extra second to realize that she wasn't walking alone.

she glanced at the person beside her, walking in tangent with her steps.

"It's early for a stroll, don't you think?" she chuckled at his words.

"Nope, just enjoying the scenery, just got here last night."

"New hero are we?"

“Something like that" she answered, some bitter expression coming over her face and leaving just as fast. "Are you one as well?" she guessed you'd have too be to be in this part of town, no sensible villain would roam around these areas unless they were stupid, powerful or a combination of the both. And while civilians loved to promote the different heroes, there was always an intimidating factor that kept them away from these areas. Of any city.

His face shaped into a humored smirk. "Something like that."

Right.

"So are you here on assignment or supervising?"

"Assignment, say, what time is it?"

He pulled his hand out of his pocket, revealing a couple gold rings and a nice watch.

"Its 4:30,"

The small look of horror must have shown on her face because his amused grin returned. Did she sleep at all last night?!?

"Assignment huh? I didn't know they were bringing others from other cities."

"They aren't, I'm a special case." It was dawning on her that maybe she shouldn't be sharing some of this information, not that it mattered. It never mattered.

"Well, I should head out. It was nice to meet you Ms?"

"You can just call me Charlie, I don't use my last name. And you are?"

He laughed, some fragment of sadness flashing through his eyes as he spoke, "Oh dearest, you'll find out soon enough." And with that he turned the corner.

"People and their riddles," she muttered as she headed to the complex. Maybe someone will be up as early as she is.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

"Well Ms. Jane you certainly got here early, when did you say you got in?"

"A little after 5. Please don't call me that, I'd much rather go by Charlie." It was already 1 pm.

He chuckled lightly. Ignoring her last comment. "Alright then, here is your assignment. We just want you to find something noteworthy on Mr. Avery, the newly found supervillain of the area." He pulled out a folder. "As you know this happened quite unexpectedly due to the fact that the whole publicity was an after effect, leading to disaster."

she raised an eyebrow, he pushed the file in her direction, "that's one way to say accident."

"Well, he was supposedly just a class D with teleportation within a 3 mile radius."

she opened the file, skimming the contents until her eyes landed on a picture.

"But yesterday-"

"Is this him?"

"Yea, he's the owner of a company-"

"Wait, but he's the guy in the picture?"

her supervisor stared at her with a quizzical expression, "yes?"

That was him. He was a villain.

"What's his power?"

"Well..."

She made eye contact with her superior.

"You don't know?"

"That's what you are here for!" they responded cheerfully. "Although we are aware that it has something to do with the gravitational field."

Yeah, that didn't help her. It wasn't an anomaly to meet the person that she was supposed to meet within the first week. But not on the first day, let alone so casually. Normally the villain that she was assigned too very quickly grew hatred towards her. Sad. she quite enjoyed the little talk they shared that morning.

"Ok, is that all?"

"Yeah, keep it under wraps, I don't want any more drama about this circling the media."

“Yeah, yeah.”

She didn't take the folder, too much of a hassle to hold. she was already feeling strained and the day had barely started.

She headed out and back to her apartment. Charlie thought about everything that she needed to figure out. The moment she got to her apartment she took out her crappy laptop and searched up the city.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

2 hours later fueled the foundation of a couple major things. Firstly, the whole situation was supposed to stay underwraps. Apparently, the daughter of the Mayor was being blackmailed by some third party because she was a part of an underground crime unit.

Cool.

This Unit supposedly was controlled by "Vincent Vallery." The assumed surname of Mr. Pine Avery. Seems that things were already rumored to be happening. Articles titled "Mr.Avery's secret love?" And "Mayor invested in underground crime." The list went on.

Also cool.

She learned that last month the girl was busted sending letters. News broke out like the plague. In the crossfire Vincent Vallery was exposed as a class A. Although all the information is foggy on that front. Witnesses say they saw something, but no one could pinpoint what. Not only that but in the incident there were at least over 60 people, and no one was able to confirm Vincent Vallery as Mr. Avery.

Not as cool.

This is why she was brought on. While the public was dealing with politics, and the Mayor was under arrest as a suspect, she was supposed to get real evidence against Mr. Avery, clear the Mayor's name, and bring an end to the rumors.

Great.

Just great.

She looked at the time, it was already almost 5:45 and the sun was starting to set.

She turned off the anti-gravity and headed into the city. Any off-the-corner sausage shop would work for food, the Agency didn't pay her much, always saying that, "If we didn't have to house you with such extreme amenities then you would get more out of your paycheck."

She was sure that they said the same thing to just about everyone.

After paying an arm and a leg for something that appeared to be constructed out of a lab she headed aimlessly up the street.

Charlie noticed that in the cracks of cobble and corners of streets were little bits of foliage. It spread gently up the sides of buildings and edged itself out onto pavement. Alleyways were really just spaced out parking spots for deep rooted trees and densely packed overgrowth. The parks were shaped organically like a river, swerving in and out against the backs of buildings and skyscrapers. Dipping into small ponds and back out into the city. And every tree you could see was an oak. Dark, strong, stems with beautifully, wide spread leaves.

It was much nicer than her old city, where rats had taken over old, forgotten, and unused trash cans. The pavement there was dry and you always felt like one wrong breeze and the buildings would topple over each other. The air didn't have the fresh light quality that it had here.

She drew in a deep breath, holding it out an extra second before exhaling in tangent with the breeze.

For a city riddled with crime and villains it seemed awfully peaceful.

"How wonderful to stumble upon you once again."

Her neck snapped left, now extremely aware that she was, in fact, not alone. It only took her a second before she broke out into short laughter.

"You're one to talk, by what I've heard you really shouldn't be in this part of town."

He shrugged, a lax smile setting his whole posture. "They have nothing."

"I see," she took another bite of her food.

"Well, have you learned what your assignment is?"

A small smirk spread across her face, "yes, although, sadly it's no good news for you."

A cautious smile quirked on his features, a million words hidden in his eyes.

"Oh?"

"I'm supposed to find the 'something' in your supposed 'nothing'." No reason to hide it, if they were to be enemies she didn't want to postpone the inevitable.

"Interesting," he hummed, "I guess that means I'll be seeing you more frequently."

she blinked at him. He hadn't even acknowledged the meaning in her words.

"Although," he continued, "I guess it would be interesting, since you don't seem worried about how dangerous they've labeled me as."

"I have no reason to fear you."

He hummed in agreement, his brow lifting as he spoke. "You're right, but most people don't jump to that conclusion right off the bat."

"I'm not most people."

"I can see that, Well, since we are destined to bump into each other again, how about I make things simple with coffee. I know a really good hidden spot that has amazing cookies. And coffee of course."

She frowned, "You do realize I have been given the task to out you, right?"

"Has it occurred to you dearest that I have nothing to hide?"

Obviously. "I don't get assigned to people that have 'nothing to hide'."

"Then you should have plenty of reasons to ask questions over coffee." He smiled again. Holding the same energy as if they were talking about the weather. "And maybe I'll ask a few questions myself."

"Right, well, I do like cookies. And coffee"

"Brilliant," he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small piece of paper. "Alright then," he handed her a business card. "Contact me and we shall set something up."

"Ok" she pocketed the paper.

"Until then dearest," And with a tilt of his hat he was gone with the night.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

The next morning didn't yield the same tranquility as the day before. She didn't sleep much. The stupid anti-gravity jammed. Which meant that she woke up in the bottom level basement by the washer and dryer. And she had been half submerged in cement.

Earth was denser than most concrete buildings, providing just enough support to hold her up naturally. The cement on the bottom level was just thin enough for her to wake up half covered. As if she was sitting in shallow water.

Ticked didn't even come close to the feeling that was crashing through her. Like a built up hurricane it only got worse when she asked the apartment landlord and he basically just brushed her off. Some comment about;

"It'll get fixed eventually, but it isn't top priority so you will have to be patient."

She walked to the main office where her superior was. Everything hurt. her joints felt raw and strained and she swore she could feel every individually bruised muscle.

They gave her the same answer.

"You know," he had said, "we could fix you up in a better apartment if you did your job better."

She just stared at him.

3 major cities. she basically owned top headlines : HERO COMMITTEE TAKES DOWN VILLAIN OF 70 YEARS, and IN SHOCKING TURN OF EVENTS UNNAMED HERO TAKES DOWN SUPER VILLAIN, and so many more.

Even if she didn't get the credit directly she was still their hidden secret. The hinges that held the door.

If you did your job better.

Yeah right.

She decided against murder and chose to just leave. They were always like this. She was too tired to fight back. It was the same argument every time. she could leave but... she had nowhere to go. It wasn't like she could work a normal job. Have a normal life. They knew that. And so instead she walked along the sidewalk.

Watching the sea of people, she saw couples that smiled and laughed. Girls and boys alike shyly take up their companions' hands as unsaid promises.

People holding each other. Touching each other. she looked towards the ground, balling her hands into fists and shoving them deep in the pockets of her hoodie.

Her fingers brushed against something. she blinked, pulling out a business card. His business card.

"Contact me and we shall set something up."

Maybe this wasn't the best idea. she really wasn't in the mood to ask a bunch of questions. the chance that he would grow to hate her was a good reason to cut contact. Plus, making friends apparently wasn't a part of her love language. Not that she had one.

She was really starting to tire of all this. Maybe she just needed sleep. On a good day she could push aside her annoyance for the committee's complete and utter disrespect for her. But today....

She just need sleep

But where would she get that? With the anti-gravity down the chances of her awaking in a different place was too real of a concept. So instead she kept walking.

She followed the cracked pavement along the city, following its pattern through parks and under bridges. Following it across alleys and besides skyscrapers. Watching the foliage build into grass patches before turning into tattered carpet, then finally back into small lines in the cobble.

She listened to the white noise that hummed in the air. Courtyards held little cafes with outdoor seating. Small lights weaved between the tall oaks, making it seem like string blowing in the breeze. People chatted amongst themselves. Filling the air with rumors and secrets. Cute talk and building friendships were only recognized by the rivers that carried all the sound in rhythm with the symphony of the creek.

she blew out another breath, sitting down on the grass by a small koi pond. she felt a little better. It was extraordinarily calm for how big of a city it was.

While she had walked, the sky had gone from bubbly, bright blue to a shy, auburn orange before blushing a deep red that faded into a cotton candy pink. Before it settled into a sleepy, soundless, bluish-black. Sparkling pockets of white scattered across its face like freckles.

Sometimes she wondered what It would be like up there, weightlessly carried amongst the sea of stars. Not held captive by the gravity wrapped like chains around her body. Maybe up there I'd meet someone just as weightless.

She shoved the thought aside, instead she pulled out the small slip of paper once more.

She should call him... Explain that she can't do coffee. It didn't seem right to simply blow him off, especially since he's been so seemingly kind to me. Maybe it was a ploy. Some cruel trap to lock her up. It wouldn't be the first time something of that sort was tried. He still couldn't touch me. Nothing would change that.

She stood up from her grass sanctuary and walked over towards the payphone.

Amusingly, they were scattered around the city like wildflowers, sprouting out of the ground in odd, out of place areas that, at a glance, just seemed to work. Which was nice since she didn't own a phone, and she basically pulled her laptop out of a dumpster just so she could keep tabs on the outside world.

she really was paid next to nothing. And what little she did make was normally taken as "taxes" from the landlord. Another detail that every city had in common.

she dialed the number that was printed in elegant, gold print that shone in the glow of the street lamp. Idley rubbing circles into her arm, and trying to put extra weight on her feet, feeling the solid ground under her for any sort of comfort.

"Hello?"

"Hi this is Charlie? We spoke earlier today... "

"Yes! Hello again, You know I was just thinking, over on the south side of the city there is a little place called 'The Firefly's Corner'. I think you'd like it there."

she bit gently into her lip, starting to feel dizzy from the energy of holding the phone. "About that, I don't think this is such a great idea... " she paused. She didn't have an excuse. she didn't want to dump her problems onto a stranger either.

"Ah, I see."

"I'm sorry." The words took away her breath. And she realized how hollow her voice sounded and how shakey her hands were. she couldn't shake how tired she felt. How loud her thoughts were. she wasn't at her best and she didn't know how to handle herself, let alone try to talk with someone over coffee.

"Dearest? Do you need something?"

Yes "No," It hit her that if she didn't establish any sort of contact they might never fix her apartment. "I just have other things planned tonight, how about tomorrow?"

"Ok."

The genuine tone is what did it. What caused tired tears to roll down her cheek. She let her feet fold on the ground, and she rested her head under a large oak. she didn't plan on trying to head back. It was much more comfortable out here. Listening to the sounds of the koi pond.

[rinwellisathing]

My partners and I have been role-playing a BG3 modern AU and here's what we've got so far(partners are RPing as Gortash and Halsin, while I am role-playing Sentry but also responsible for entire Bhaal family)

Halsin (as written by GamerBear aka Dadbod Halsin who doesn't have much internet presence) :

- a veterinarian and volunteer summer camp counselor.

-kind of a hippie.

-extremely well educated, couple of degrees under his belt.

-studies cults as a hobby

-Friends with Sentry after catching him trying to steal blood and parts from cold storage where Halsin works.

-in love with Sentry, doesn't want to weird him out so doesn't really confess or push it.

-Politically opposed to Gortash and his entire deal.

Gortash (as written by Keiko, my girlfriend, who kind of abandoned tumblr)

-Sleazy but charming CEO gunning for politics

-Current CEO of Bane Enterprises, which is a weapons manufacturer.

-Hosts lavish parties and events weekly.

-Sentry is actually the second Bhaalist to be tasked with assassinating him and end up sleeping with him instead.

-Generally well liked by underlings because of all the perks he provides through his events.

-Definitely has a type, which is Bhaalists.

Sentry Ojeda and the Bhaal crime family (as written by me)

-Members in order of age: Gary(default Durge, RIP to a real one), Gabraela(Tiefling),Tomi (fae being in the form of a beautiful elf), Jakael (Drow), Sentry(Tiefling), Orin (Changling). All children of Bhaal, the absent mob boss father, currently being led by Papa Sarevok and were mostly raised by Sceleritas Fel.

-Prostitution, drugs, extortion, murder for hire.

-The city's most well known secret and most powerful crime family.

-Gary was killed shortly before the start of the story, passing on the title of 'Dark Urge' to Sentry. Was dating Gortash before his death, a role Sentry also inherited.

-Sentry is absolutely the kind of person who takes time out from his serious jobs to spray paint dicks on Flamin Fist patrol cars.

-Despite being second youngest, Sentry was Gary's protégé, being the only one the Dragonborn considered competent at his job.

-Tomi does cover ups and good press, framing the family as a pillar of the community.

-Jakael is mostly in charge of extortion, he's crude and rough but he gets the job done.

-Gabraela is in charge of helping Sarevok keep the younger ones in line.

-Sentry uses his drug dealings and hooking to get close enough to targets to kill them. Sometimes he will kill random clients who weren't targets just to throw off suspicion.

-Orin was jealous of Gary and is also jealous of Sentry. It also bothers her she isn't really permitted to take the lead on any plans.

-Sentry and Gary both had more freedom than any of their other siblings and were able to, to a point, defy their father's orders.

[stxrshxpxd]

a regret of yours

pairing: brett anderson x reader

word count: 1.039

warnings: age gap (20s/40s)

prompt: roadie reader has fallen for brett and tries her luck with him but it doesn’t end so well

* * *

I had barely noticed when Mat and Simon left together but suddenly Brett and I were the last ones standing, in the corner of the third pub of the night. I had never been out like this with Brett before, but it was a special night. It was the end of the tour and a big group of us had gone out for drinks to celebrate. It wasn’t always bands mixed with roadies too much but Brett and I had connected early on, for whatever reason.

Over the last few months I had grown really fond of him, which felt odd. I wasn’t the type to usually fall for older men, Brett being in his mid forties and me in my early twenties, but there was something between us. Looks across rooms and silly inside jokes were the main pillars of our friendship. The last couple of weeks he had even begun giving me sweaty hugs after coming off stage. Granted, he was riding a high of various pleasure hormones, but it felt quite special every time. His hugs always gave me a sharp stab of tingles through my stomach.

“You were insane out there tonight,” I stated and placed the side of my face on top of my fist, facing Brett. We were sitting quite close in a booth, our knees grazing every other moment.

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Brett laughed and I assured him it was. He twirled his half finished pint around on the wooden table a few times and then mindlessly wiped his cold, damp fingers on his black jeans.

“I, uh.. I like it when you take your shirt off,” I mumbled, actively grazing his knee with mine now. He had done exactly that tonight towards the end of the set and proceeded to engulf me in a big hug with his nude torso tightly pressed against my clothed one. He had laughed into my ear for a second before letting go. Thinking about it now made my insides buzz.

“I think that girl who caught your shirt would agree,” I added light-heartedly because Brett hadn’t said anything. He had only laughed and looked down at his beer again.

“Do you know how many damn shirts I’ve lost over the years?” he asked rhetorically, laughing softly. He had that pretty, white smile on and those twinkly eyes that made my chest ache. I thought of all those fans tearing his clothes off and wished I too could wreck one of his shirts.

“Well, I can see why they might want to undress you,” I said in an ambiguous tone of voice. I wasn’t sure if I wanted him to think I was joking or to know I was serious. My inhibitions were leaving with every sip of my drink though.

Brett kept laughing gently and he gave me a look I couldn’t decipher. He licked his bottom lip and ran it softly between his teeth. It was more than likely just something for him to occupy himself with while the silence built between us, but I got a strong urge to kiss him. We were already so close. I could just lean in a little bit and my lips would have no trouble reaching his. So, I did. I leant closer to him, placing my hand on his thigh for stability just as much as seduction. I felt his hands too, but not how I wanted to feel them. He held me back gently by the shoulders and a tortured sigh fell from his mouth.

“This is not a good idea.”

“No, I think it definitely is,” I chuckled but there wasn’t much happiness left in my laughter. My heart sank closer and closer to my stomach with every beat.

“I’m much too old for you.”

He was composed but there was some pain in his voice. I was almost certain a part of him wanted me too, maybe even a big part.

“I think that’s for me to decide.”

“Listen, you’re… a dream,” Brett spoke quietly. “But you will grow up to regret it if we give in to this. I can’t abuse my power like that.”

“I’m an adult,” I claimed, but I felt more and more like a fourteen year old girl when tears began to form behind my eyelids. I blinked them away but my chest and throat were burning with agony. All I wanted in that moment was him.

“I know you are.. But you’re more of a kid than you think. You’ll realise that the older you get… And I don’t want to be a regret of yours.”

I sat in my misery and couldn’t move.

“I’d rather I regret not getting with you than you regret getting with me. Do you see what I mean?”

I refused to see what he meant and I felt like throwing up now. Finally my legs worked and I shimmied out of our booth and headed for the door.

“Y/N!” Brett called after me in a steady voice. He caught up with me out on the street but made a point to not touch me.

“I’m sorry if I’ve led you on. I shouldn’t have done that.”

I was marching down the street in the direction I thought the hotel might be, with Brett close behind me.

“Yeah, you have,” I responded and turned around suddenly, bumping into his chest and him catching me with his arms around my back. I was sad and angry and felt stupid, and the alcohol was only adding fuel to the fire. I was right there in the middle of his scent and warmth and I felt weak in every part of my being.

Brett’s arms had fallen to his sides again and he stood with his lips parted and breaths falling down on my face. His dark fringe hung to cover most of his eyes. The top buttons of his shirt were open and his two thin chains were all tangled in one another around his neck.

“I’m sorry,” he said and took one step back. The tears were still threatening to spill down my cheeks, so I turned my heel and kept walking. Brett didn’t follow me this time.

[chrysaliscreatorii]

Absol - Steel type

The Razing Pokémon

Perhaps the most territorial out of all the Absols species, they are known for being home wreckers, in the literal sense of the word, as they are infamous for wrecking yet to be finished infrastructures, no matter what kind. Homes, business, even medical settings are not safe from this pokemons territorial nature, as they will not allow anyone to settle down in their territory.

The why of this extreme behavior is unknown, especially because of it’s inconsistency. Even in modern day, construction workers testify as spotting one of these Absols on occasion, but state that many times they just… stare. As in, literally staying on the fringe of the perimeter and just staring while keeping their enormous claws on the ground, as if ready to pounce or keeping guard. One instance illustrated how a construction firm (which shall not be disclosed) was almost finished on a landscaping project, but upon trying to enter the last hectares this pokemon would not allow them to proceed, after many attempts were made, the ground started to shake, and a sink hole took place, almost sucking the construction workers and equipment in. It is believed that this Absol knew moves suck as earthquake or earth power, and upon realizing that the workers would not yield, decided that if they could not have it, then no one would, since after the collapse, the Absol all but retreated.

It is because of this that it is also believed that despite being a steel type, this Pokémon can learn a variety of ground and/or rock types moves, which they use to get rid of territories they see no longer being able to keep to themselves; while at first this was rebuffed for being an isolated incident, many more came forward after the first official report was issued to the press, revealing many cases of mudslides, sinkholes, land and rockslides, earthquakes and more, all saying the same things, either Absol kept loitering around all the time and somehow causing the incidents, or they actively tried to keep them away and THEN caused them.

History books also seem to support this fact, as they tell how this Absol would many times go to human settlements and destroy pillars, disrupt equipment and mess with the foundation in the same manner as they do to date.

While all evidence points to this being true, one, or rather two, odd details remain unclear. In a couple of said incidents, workers revealed that they actually managed to capture the Absols that were roaming, one narrating how they drove far away to release it, only to find upon their return that the worksite somehow got wrecked despite it being taken away.and the other mentioning that they wanted to check their move set, but showed that Absol did not knew any rock or ground type moves. Leading to the unanswered question of how they do it, and why.