#scythe craft

[bloodkrieg21]

Almost done with my newest chaos abomination

[pearcethinks]

hey tumblr. i made a scythe

clownpierce scythe clownpierce scythe :3 calling all lifesteal smp enjoyers and kaboodle smp enjoyers and friend or foe enjoyers and CLOWNPIERCE ENJOYERS (all me)

[hedge-bones]

I’m so fucking proud of this one, ngl. The fabric looks a little wrinkled in the pic because it was still drying from when I cleaned off the pencil lmao

[berrrydameyve]

OH I STARTED HAND-MAKING SHINOA'S SCYTHE FOR A COSPLAY TODAY and huge shot-out to my dad who's gonn help me cut the schythe side ( ı alrealy made the handle) and firmly glue it on

[natkatelin]

Seele Cosplay at Dokomi

I cosplayed Seele from honkai Impact 3rd at Dokomi this year and so many people told me I looked great, that made me really happy.

Look at these cuties. Also I think my scythe turned out pretty nice. I made it myself.

I’m ab bit sad I didn’t make more content for insta and TikTok tbh

You can find the social media stuff of the two persons who took pictures with me at my insta

[real-dead-girls]

Okay, typically I don't like sharing photos of myself but I think I looked dashing in my cosplay today

[jacksintention]

Oz in his Negan era

[hello-simplizity]

[voidb0und]

tag drop        ↳ verses.

✧ ⥼ — v. 001. warrior of light. ❝ is this really the world? shall i grieve? shall i hope? ✧ ⥼ — v. 002. hunter. ❝ do the cries you craft with your scythe ever soften your heart?

✧ ⥼ — timeline. to be decided. ✧ ⥼ — timeline. a realm reborn. ✧ ⥼ — timeline. heavensward. ✧ ⥼ — timeline. stormblood. ✧ ⥼ — timeline. shadowbringers. ✧ ⥼ — timeline. endwalker.

[captn-lovelace]

this stardew update is the most lovingly crafted update yet. i’m only on summer day 10 so i haven’t seen everything yet, but i have 1k+ hours total in this game and these updates are everything i ever wanted. i mean even just the journal icon showing you a running count of stones/wood/enemies you’ve collected/defeated WITHOUT opening the journal??? wow. the freakin iridium scythe that harvests crops???? FINALLY a sonar bobber? better bait options?!?

like any non-aesthetic mod i’ve ever had has basically been replaced by this update

[derww]

ok ive been thinking abt it for far too long not to make a tearlist. lsers and their attitude to the custom-made weapons & who among them is forging them

disclamer: I don't really know that much about weapons and forging & will appreciate suggestions, but not criticism. after all, these are just headcannons.

– s4 zam receives a blade, court sword, from subz after joining eclipse, s5 zam – from bacon after few months of gucci&pirates union, and its a sable.

– s4 mapicc and ro keep the swords made for them by rekrap and they are like really fancy, cast in appropriate shades and with carved handles

– flame's weapons are made by only_a_squid and smuggled to lifesteal

– hannah brought with her an elegant rapier with a hilt covered with thorny roses

– amy made a godslayer sword in s5. and wemmbu gen prefers to use custom weapons, loving their convenience and fanciness.

– minute usually does not bother, but knightfall and vengeance are custom made and sometimes he gifts swords to his teammates.

– all staboodles are forged by clown. they are pretty similar, translucent glassy but very sharp swords, but differ in colors and smaller shapes.

– 4c, bacon and rekrap forge custom weapons, but they do not use them themselves

– clown has a huge assortment from swords and axes to scythes and maces, both made by him and taken from the bodies of enemies

– s4 subz uses swords and axes forged by him, whose appearance reflects the name

– squiddo's weapon is not a sword, I'm not sure what, but I think its a huge orange rubber hammer

– branzy always carries a sword gifted to him by a clown

– mid recevives a cool custom sword from someone every new season

– i don't think chief actually thinks about it too much, but hoplite is built on custom op weapons so he uses them atleast there

– planet does not like custom weapons like sooo much, their maximum is to carve out something on the already existing normal sword. he can still use the ones that belong to others as a joke, but not for long

– jumper: yes if its her teammate's gift. she wouldnt ask, but she'll smile and laugh and say thanks and use it until the end of the season.

– jepexx: id say no, but he wants to look cool.

– parrot would use custom weapons if he got it from somewhere, but just like any other weapon. bro wins dont care game

– actually i think that poafa also can be making custom weapons as a part of Making Art. but he doesn't care what he uses in battle. perhaps he would like to make something for others, or have beautiful tools just for aesthetics and convenience.

– terrain: is it custom-made? not anymore lol. look, this is an absolutely ordinary sword, you can craft it on any crafting table. how did I do what? i didn't do anything.

– and I have no idea where leo got the apo equip from, but he definitely didn't forge it himself lol

[greenwitchcrafts]

August 2023 witch guide

August 2023 witch guide

Full moon: August 1st in Aquarius

New Moon: August 16th

Blue moon: August 30th Aquarius into Pisces

Sabbats: Lughnasadh August 1st



August Sturgeon Moon

Also known as: Corn moon, harvest moon, ricing moon, barley moon, dog moon, fruit moon, grain moon, herb moon, red moon & wyrt moon

Element: Fire

Zodiac: Leo & Virgo

Animal spirts: Dryads

Deities: Diana, Ganesha, Hathor, Hecate, Mars, Nemesis, Thot & Vulcan

Animals: Dragon, lion, phoenix & sphinx

Birds: Crane, eagle & falcon

Trees: Alder cedar & hazel

Herbs/plants: Basil, bay, chamomile, fennel, orange, rosemary, rue & St. John's wort,

Flowers: Angelica, marigold, sunflower

Scents: Frankincense & heliotrope

Stones: Carnelian, cats/tiger's eye, fire agate, garnet, red jasper & red agate

Colors: Gold, orange, red & yellow

Energy: Authority, appreciation, courage, entertainment, finding your voice, friendship, gathering, harvesting energy, health, love, pleasures, power &vitality

Sturgeon moon gets it's name from the high numbers that are caught at the Great Lakes & Lake Champlain in North America during this time of year. The names come from a number of places including Native Americans, Colonial Americans & European sources.



Lughnasadh

Also known as: Lammas, August eve & Feast of bread

Season: Summer

Symbols: Scythes, corn, grain dollies & shafts of grain

Colors: Gold, green, yellow, red, orange, light brown & purple

Oils/incense: Aloe, apple, corn, eucalyptus, safflower, rose & sandalwood

Animals: Cattle & chickens

Stones: Aventurine, carnelian, citrine, peridot, sardonyx & yellow diamond

Foods: Apples, grains, barley cakes, wild berries, cider, honey, potatoes, rice, sun shaped cookies, blackberry, corn, nuts, breads, blueberry. berry pies & grapes

Herbs/Plants: Alfalfa, aloe, all grains, blackberry, corn, corn stalk, crab apple, fenugreek, frankincense, ginseng, goldenseal, grapes, myrtle, oak leaves, pear, rye, blackthorn &wheat

Flowers: Sunflower, cyclamen, heather, hollyhock & medowsweet

Goddesses: Aine, Alphito, Bracacia, Carmen, Ceres, Damina, Demeter, Freya, Grain goddesses, Ishtar, Kait, Kore, Mother Goddess, Sul, Sun Goddesses, Taillte, Zaramama, Ereshkigal & Ianna

Gods: Athar, Bes, Bran, Dagon, Ebisu, Dumuzi, Ghanan, Grain Gods, Howtu, Liber, Lono, Lugh, Neper, Odin, Sun Gods & Xochipilli

Issues, Intentions & Power:  Agriculture, changes, divination, endings, fertility, life, light, manifestation, power, purpose, strength, success & unity

Spellwork: Sun magick, rituals of thanks/offerings, bounty, abundance & fire magick

Activities:

Bake fresh bread

Weave wheat

Take walks along bodies of water

Craft a corn doll

Watch the sunrise

Eat outside with family/friends/coven members

Donate to your local foodbank

Prepare a feast with your garden harvest

Give thanks to the Earth

Decorate your altar with symbols of the season

Clean up a space in nature

Plant saved seeds

This cross-quarter fire festival is celebrated on August 1st or the first full moon of Leo & the seventh sabbat of the year. It represents the first harvest when the Earth's bounty is given for the abundance received.

Some believe this is the time where the God has weakened & is losing his strength as seen in the waning of the day's light. The Goddess is pregnant with the young God who will be born on Yule.

In some traditions, this day honors the Celt god Lugh, the god of craftsmanship; He is skilled in many things including wheel making, blacksmithing & fighting. Though there is some discrepancy as to why Lugh is honored on this day. Some tales say it's because he held a harvest faire in honor of his adoptive mother, Tailtiu.



Sources;

Farmersalmanac .com

Boston Public Library- The Origins & Practices of Lammas/Lughnasadh by Dhruti Bhagat

Llewellyn's Complete Book of Correspondences by Sandra Kines

A Witch's Book of Correspondences by Viktorija Briggs

[osleeplessflowero]

hi! If it's ok can you do a Reaper sans x reader with fluff and in it they are dating and Reaper can touch the reader and their soul trait would be kindness

hii! an opportunity to use reaper..this'll be fun! thank you for your request Anon! 🌸

💚Flirting With Death🖤

Reaper comes to a stop once he re-enters the mortal realm once more, relieved that no one is aware that he's awake at the moment.. Although he may be the God of Death..he doesn't really feel like killing anybody. No, he'd much rather do literally anything else.

His eyes dart around until he perks up at the sight of a familiar face taking a walk down a path and letting a butterfly rest on their finger. He'd know them anywhere.

A strange figure that appeared in his world out of no where..an unexplained event. They don't know much of their origin themself, but..they're content, living in this world. And he's grown so very fascinated with them.. Someone who managed to slip their way into his guarded heart.

Floating over you, a sly cheshire-like grin stretches onto his face as he grabs your shoulders, spooking you. You jolt as you turn around, furrowing your brows as he lets out an amused chuckle.

"Not funny!" You cross your arms as more butterflies seem to make their way to you, resting on your head. "Quit doing that."

"i saw an opportunity, and i took it. anyway..movin' on from that, how are you today?" He leans down upside down. "haven't seen you in a while..guess we both got too busy."

"Come down here before I answer." You gesture, earning an amused chuckle. "alright then." He floats back upright, before landing on the ground.

The butterflies spread out, flying in varying directions, avoiding the God of Death so they wouldn't meet an early demise. He stands before you, using his magic to put away his scythe, leaving himself open.

"Much better..I like being on equal terms." You smile, holding a small basket in front of you. "I've mostly just been hanging out here..taking walks and stuff. Oh yeah, I've been making a bunch of paper crafts- y'know, like origami? It's pretty fun. ..When I'm not getting lectured for leaving a bunch of paper rabbits out." You mutter that last part, earning a chuckle from him.

"oh my stars, that's so..you." He grins, watching you as you begin walking and following without hesitation. "Creativity is both my blessing and my curse." You smile sheepishly, guiding him along a grass-covered path. He occasionally floats so he doesn't kill any flowers beneath him, listening carefully as you talk about this and that.

"What about you?" You turn to him, snapping him out of a trance of sorts. "oh, well..y'know. your typical scenarios. death, death, more death. this job's killing me." "How is it, up there?" "well..just do my job, talk to who i'm 'sposed to, and do daily tasks. pretty simple." "..You must be pretty lonely up there.."

He turns to you.

"I mean-" "it was pretty lonely, without you there. ..things don't feel the same up there, compared to when i'm with you. tends to happen, heh."

You gently hold out your hand, offering for him to take it. He looks between you and your hand for a moment, gently taking it and intertwining his fingers with yours. Wow, is that a strange sensation.. he's gotta learn to get used to all of this touching. Especially since you're so openly affectionate..

"Well..at least we're here together now, right? We've got plenty of time." You smile warmly at him. His cheekbones flush a light shade of blue..there you go again, tugging on his heartstrings. "..i guess you're right."

You continue leading him along like he's a lost puppy, taking a deep breath as the sun hits your face from above. It's always good to savor it while it lasts..and considering it's going to set soon, that time's limited.

"Now that you're back I wanna spend as much time with you as possible..don't get too sick of me, okay?" "that's what i'm supposed to say to you." "Yeah, right. I could never be sick of you."

He averts his eyes, hiding the bottom of his face within his hood as his face flushes even more.

You smile, stopping and turning to him as another breeze blows through, gently swaying your clothing to the side.

"i haven't..felt like this before, with anybody." He raises a hand, placing it on his warm cheekbone. "it's all so..new.."

"Can I touch your face?" You ask politely, and he nods, appreciating that. You lift a hand, gently touching his cheekbone and letting him lean into it. "..It's new for both of us, really. ..We've got each other, every step of the way, right?"

"yeah.." He smiles, putting his hand over yours. "i don't mind being touched by you. it's something i could get used to." "..You always have such..uncertainty, when you hold my hand. Why's that?" "i guess.. a part of me's scared that my...effect will work on you one day." His eyesockets narrow as he grimaces. "the idea of losing you is.."

You gently hold your hand up so he can see before you put it on his other cheek, turning him so he'll face you properly.

"Sans." You mutter his name, his true name, leaving him breathless. "I doubt that'd ever happen..I'm too stubborn to go anywhere. No matter what, I will always be with you somehow..even when you're up there with the fun police."

He snickers, moving his hand over to touch your hair before it slides to your cheek. Now it's your turn to lean..savoring his gentle touches. He treats you as if you're the most fragile thing in the world..one wrong move, and you could shatter into pieces. But at the same time, you're very sturdy.. you can handle yourself just fine. He knows that.

"You can touch me as much as you'd like to. I don't mind at all."

His face burns. "forward, much?" "Yeah. But I mean it." You smile. "If you'd like me to, I'll give you as much physical affection as you want." "..yeah?" "Yeah." "how so?"

"Well..may I?" You lean a little closer. "of course."

You then proceed to pepper his skull with kisses, getting a few laughs out of him since he's ticklish. Oh, would you use that to your advantage later-

"Mmmwah! There. There'll be plenty more where that came from." You smile smugly, watching as he slowly reopens his eyes, turning to you and..matching your expression? Oh. Oh no.

He gently grabs your wrists, pulling you just a liiittle closer.

"you're not getting away that easily. it's my turn."

Oh heavens.

[brucewaynehater101]

Hello again I have an idea that might–i guess– interest you so here we go :))

I have this idea where Tim has a scythe in his Bō staff and everyone is just confused and concerned because he is starting to look like a grim reaper. Also the weapon + his fighting style is like a character named Arlecchino from genshin impact (if you play it), so he can do some cool poses and when he fights everyone sees that his fighting style look dangerous but elegant as he dances with his scythe while humming a tune which makes any rouges or enemies off guard by his calm demeanor (but they won't lie that Tim looks absolutely stunning with his staff/scythe that has some sort of black magic in it, idk).

Anyway— getting sidetracked, when Tim got asked by the Bats how he got it and he just said "I make this weapon all by myself without anyone helping me, so if you wanted this baby? Make it by yourself" he huffs while turning away with a proud look.

Also I think the JL will have these shocked faces as they look towards batman to gain some answers of how RR has a scythe and he just said "he was bored so he makes it by himself." And just like that every JL member started calling Tim "Reaper", which for Tim is weird and too dark.

But anywaysss, the YJ also have the same exact expression as the JL but they quickly brush it off and let Tim do his "Grim reaper" things. And they also would sometimes brag about their friend, Tim, that they have a cool leader who is graceful, amazing, sometimes annoying, smart— and yadda yadda, bcs who wouldn't want to brag that they have a fuckin Reaper as a Leader.

Idk if Tim actually has powers that actually take people's souls but the imagination is there :33

Ooh!!!! A retractable scythe in his Bō staff?

Okay! I treasure when the Bats have cryptic/eldritch rumors about them that they purposefully feed into.

Tim would make his humming into a warning when he's not actively fighting. For the situations that require it, he would throw his voice around the room as his hum rang out. Some goons, upon hearing the noise and knowing the rumors about the "reaper," would lay down their weapons, put their hands up, and slowly walk away. Whatever they are getting paid is not worth the chance of him taking their soul.

I'm not sure what ideas you had for the timeline of when he added the scythe. One route is that, after he trained with Shiva, Tim quickly stumbles upon this option (particularly if it's an added lesson from Shiva).

Here's what I'm thinking instead:

Red Robin was surrounded by assassins all alone until he befriended three of them. He already was breaking a ton of rules and crossing lines for his cause. Yet, he refrained from any that Bruce wouldn't forgive. There's always another option. Tim can figure out how to save the day without resorting to violence.

Under a blanket of stars as the sand shifted beneath his knees, Tim couldn't help but desire a blade. His staff, while it could be deadly, proved ineffective in his weakened state. There wasn't a way he could defeat his opponent. Tim was doomed to die and drag Pru down with him.

He was lucky to regain consciousness long enough to drag them to help, but Tim didn't like resorting to luck. He utilized plans and contingencies, not the whims of the universe. Life is unpredictable, but Tim could at least pretend he was prepared.

So, with LoA knowledge at his disposal, the teen learned how to sharpen his weapon. Tim crafted a tool that could easily kill. Upon its completion, he felt a small sense of that safety he had lacked since he was fourteen.

As fitting to a person so surrounded by death (his mom, dad, Darla, Bart, Kon, Z, Owens, Bruce), Tim fastened a scythe blade to his Bō staff.

When he returned, Gotham, the JL, and YJ learned of the "reaper." Tim is glad his friends accepted him readily.

Later, when Tim has settled into his new forms and fighting styles, he'll sneak on over to Drake Manor. In a basement filed with tomes, research papers, artifacts, and notes, the teen with etch symbols and words into the metal. It's another tool and hail mary he hopes to never use.

He's learned his lessons about instilling limits for the sake of others.

[soulful-rodent]

(sends smith your way)

*smith is just wandering now, wearing his robe and wielding his harvesting scythe*

*Eclipse was just crafting things now, out of random materials from the Factory*

[vicsy]

maxiel demon hunter au | 4.3 k | M happy halloween! I'm excited to share this little titbit with you. I hope to make this into an entire fic one day (have a title picked out already!) and crafting this universe brings me so much joy. I was really looking to sharing something spooky with all of you. <3 tw for mild body horror | set in the same universe as this fic

This time, they take Daniel's eyes.

It's the sounds that catch up to Daniel first, like whiplash. Dulled squelching, then wet splattering — one, two, three; splat, splat, splat. Daniel is weirdly comforted by counting. It serves as a fitting substitute to the vacuum that eats up the screams, the stuttering gasps of air riddled with desperation. Missing one eye, Daniel watches himself scream inaudibly, blood pouring down his face, his neck, soaking his torn and tattered clothes.

He is but a mere spectator to a leading man in his own torture chamber.

The hard flooring digs into his knees but the ache in them is phantom. Daniel's here and there, tormented and helpless, driven to the brink of passing out and forced to endure a twisted spectacle. A hand, cold as ice, cradles his bloodied cheek, tender. Tilts his head up from where he's kneeling, shackled to the floor, his wrists rubber raw. Here, tenderness is a perpetual deceit. The figure standing by the other him is indistinguishable, a moving black ink stain with many arms and sharp angles. Daniel knows him. It's why he doesn't hold his breath for what comes next.

Pressure on his face, no, not his but it is Daniel. One finger pulls down his eyelid, the other digs into the corner of his eye like a fish hook. Daniel imagines a scoop treating him as a tub of ice cream. It's hysterical. He must still be screaming. His brain must be shutting down. Pain does that, eventually.

It takes time, the remaining eye. Pressure builds in agonizing waves; his vision blanks out but Daniel is watching from afar, out of body, bound and motionless, drenched in animalistic fear. Pulled out of the socket, meticulously and with a caricature of care, Daniel follows the optic nerve still attached to his eye stretching up, up, further up until it snaps like a string. He must be screaming louder. He must be dying. But Daniel hangs on.

In the hollow spaces where his most prolific weapon used to be, blood pools and then overflows, a crimson waterfall marring his flesh. The floor beneath him is slippery, sticky; Daniel feels the blood on his hands but when he glances down, they're clean. It's not right. None of this is. They took his eyes.

He won't know an enemy from a friend; a clean soul from a wretched one.

Laughter. It fills out the void. Fingernails scratching the chalkboard, that laughter. Daniel knows who it belongs to, that distortion of joy. Shadowy figure standing above him raises four of its hands. Some miss fingers, one looks like a scythe. All of those limbs are covered in Daniel's blood. It glistens, taunting.

Daniel's throat closes up. His eye, held in between bloodied fingers, becomes the sole focus of his attention. He blinks; the other him can't do such a thing anymore. He thrashes in place instead, spitting curses that fall dead on Daniel's ears but he recognizes the shape of them leaving his own lips. That figure — the monster, the demon, the death itself — raises one of its arms, studying Daniel's eye under the yellow light coming off the ceiling. Why is there light?

He can't save himself. He needs to save himself.

They took his eyes. He ripped Daniel's only defense to shreds.

The figure moves again, wobbling and buzzing, then it parts at the top where its head supposedly is. Daniel can't make out its features but he knows. Doesn't he? He knows him well. There's teeth now, startlingly white. Black, viscous saliva drips off the tips. A droplet lands on Daniel's cheek; one of him flinches without moving, the other has his skin melting, sizzling, exposing the bone. Fear becomes a creature of its own. And it wants to escape.

Daniel watches, then, consumed by the opulence of fright, as the being made of shadows and everything unholy pops his eye into its gaping maw and snaps it shut.

In the seconds that stretch into an eternity, Daniel's body gets squeezed and lifted off the floor. All the teeth, the open maw, his own eye staring back at him from the inside, unblinking – brown with a tinge of red. There is a roar and a screech; Daniel faces his disfigured state. Then all is ribs crack under pressure and he breathes in at once.

It consumes him.

When Daniel's eyes fly open, as abruptly as a flock of birds spooked by a stray dog driven by nothing but hunger, Max is the first thing he sees. He leans against the doorframe of Daniel's bedroom, already dressed for the day.

"Why are you on the floor?" Max asks matter-of-factly. He sounds like himself, maybe a bit croaky. Daniel's gotten used to him like this. And it's not the first time Max drops by his room unannounced.

"Uh. Morning yoga?" Lame answer to the shitty start of the day. Is it still morning? Daniel's back doesn't waste any time reminding him of the comfortable mattress he seemingly fell off of during the night. Not like he has that much control over the horrors clinging to him like an ex that can't take a hint. "Shit. Give me five and I'll be good to go. We gotta pop by Alex's first thing, though."

His legs are tangled awkwardly in a thin blanket. Half of it is still draped over his bed. Daniel rubs at his eyes, keeping himself upright. The soft prickle of eyelashes on his fingertips, the spots dancing in his vision — kind of stupid to need reassurance. This shouldn't be that big of a deal. Fighting off a wendigo and getting to keep all your limbs, now that is fucking terrifying. Nightmares are practically in his job description, a walk in the park. But this kind–

"Of course," Max says. He sounds closer than he was moments before. Daniel looks up and spots a helping hand. Ah, his poor dignity.

"Mate, did you sleep in the freezer? Your hands are cold as fuck," Daniel mumbles while Max hauls him up to his feet without much trouble. Huh. Maybe Daniel's just running hotter than usual. Shouldn't be a surprise considering his nighttime adventures.

"It was very tempting to spend the night in there," oof, bitchy. Now that's his Max. He huffs, annoyed and lets go of Daniel. "I had a Red Bull with all the ice we had. We need to buy more on the way back. It's a fucking desert outside."

No fucking wonder.

Daniel sways on his feet a bit, admittedly shaken. Looks down at himself and spots a new stain on a faded Bills t-shirt he slept in. He must be sweaty and gross after a night he had but there's a foreign tackiness, too. Remnants of the horrors conjured in the depths of his subconscious stick to his skin like molasses. Daniel's getting the urge to scrub himself clean with bleach, wiggle out of this weird state. At least for Max's sake.

"Fucking peachy," scratching the back of his head, Daniel pads to the adjoining bathroom. "I'll be out in a tick."

Max's response reaches him as he shuts the door.

"I'll wait in the car, Daniel."

He always does.

Splashing cold water onto his face rewards Daniel with a handful of miraculous minutes where he isn't trapped in the suffocating heat of the summer. A shower would have been ideal but he's running late. Alex would bitch about him not being on time again for the next month or so. Looking himself over in the mirror, Daniel assesses the need to shave sometime soon. It can wait. Sporting a beard isn't all bad. He stares his reflection in the eyes longer than necessary — two normal eyeballs, both intact, same color to them. Brown tinged slightly with red. People barely notice but those who know what to look for are always the ones asking Daniel to remove sunglasses he wears most of the time.

Funnily enough, it's the one thing he forgets in haste on the way out. Daniel never leaves the house without his hunting knife, strapped securely onto his lower back under a billowy t-shirt so nobody calls the cops on him for carrying a scary looking weapon. But, fuck, his shades. The sun shining mercilessly in the cloudless sky will give him a headache soon enough. Daniel curses himself, shielding his eyes from the sunlight with a palm of his hand.

His neighbour walks by on the sidewalk, a tiny dog trotting next to her. Daniel stops just short of the driveway to give her a nod and a slight wave; a cursory motion. She beams back at him and her dog decides to join the interaction by yapping uncontrollably, pulling on the leash. Daniel tells himself to be cool about it but he still tilts his vision sideways out of sheer habit. His eyelids twitch, reacting to the sun blasting from above. Daniel keeps his smile cheerful and his gaze trained on his neighbour. A translucent glow enveloping her shoulders and chest greets Daniel as it did numerous times before. She's perfectly human. The dog, on the other hand… he can't vouch for that creature.

Finally making it to the car, Daniel opens the door and climbs into the driver's seat. It's cool inside. The aircon is doing its magic just fine but the wheel feels like lava to the touch. Thank fuck Max had the car running before Daniel dragged himself outside. He can do with a little less worry, today of all days.

When he turns his head in the direction of the passenger seat, Max looks like he's seeing an army of ghosts.

"Max?" Daniel waits for the other shoe to drop. It's been weeks. His hand finds the hilt of his knife on pure instinct ingrained into his bones. Max remains unmoving, staring ahead through the windshield. His mouth falls open, his lovely lips look chapped. "You alright there, buddy?"

Daniel counts the seconds of uninterrupted silence. Studies the side of Max's face, the sharp line of his jaw. Counts his steadily increasing heartbeat, too, waiting. Max's lips continue to move without a  hint of sound. Daniel's grip on the knife tightens.

Every scrap of thought in his brain comes to a screeching halt. His vision feels like burning. Max slumps forward, his back bowed. That nightmare Daniel went through flares up at the back of his mind, alive and vivid. His breath catches and a lump lodges itself in his throat like a rotten bone.

He can't be out of time. And Max–

Max snaps out of it. With a full body jolt, he reels back and his body hits the side of the door. He's facing Daniel now, chest heaving. Daniel lets go of the knife and pulls his hand forward, almost placating. It's not fear rattling his bones; it's something worse. His eyes twitch involuntarily. Once, twice. Max seemingly deflates.

"No, I felt like– felt like remembering. But no luck," he swipes a palm down the side of his neck, then the back of it. Daniel holds his breath and only allows himself to breathe evenly when Max shrugs, like nothing happened at all, and nods at him, squinting. "Too bright for you today, no?"

"Sure," Daniel responds flatly. Begrudgingly, he makes a show of reaching for a pair of shades he remembers stashing in the glove compartment and Max thoughtfully moves his bare knees out of the away. He's always wearing the shortest of shorts and Daniel really can't blame him. Swampy summer hellscape in the middle of July is drastically different from where Max is originally from. There is irony in that fact, as far as Daniel knows. "Eyes are kinda itchy today."

Light sensitivity, he explained to Max back when they first got to know each other. Truth wrapped in a crisp, white lie. That, and an occasional migraine or two was a small price to pay for the ability to tell souls apart. Daniel had seen some that shone righter than the sun itself; he'd also seen those darker than a thousand nights. The latter taught him the most valuable lessons. Otherwise Daniel wouldn't be still alive and kicking.

They drive through the morning rush and the cacophony of a small town dealing with the worst possible heatwave in the last decade or so. Daniel blasts the aircon heedlessly, secretly asking whatever powers that may be for his engine not to kick the bucket. Max is looking out the window. Daniel steals a couple of glances at him, rightfully concerned, and only catches the back of his head. He almost reaches to smooth Max's hair sticking out from the humidity but thinks better of it and keeps both hands firmly on the wheel. His gaze darts down to Max's pale thigh instead, his fingers drumming a rhythm on it that Daniel can't place. And it bothers him.

"What do we need from Alex?" Max enquires.

We.

"He caught wind of some shady business. Possible sighting near the place where they're repairing the highway. You know, by that one dodgy looking exit?" pure lies. Daniel clears his throat. "Might check it out tonight."

Max hums. They ride the rest of the way in silence. Daniel tries to keep the dread at bay.

For people like Daniel, Alex's coffee and tea shop is a convenient front. For those who live in the blissful ignorance of the supernatural, it's another pleasant establishment to spend your hard-earned money at. Either way, for the last couple of years Daniel's made the best out of his friendship with Alex ever since stumbling to the shop after closing hours, bleeding out and poisoned. Alex kindly saved his life – for free since Daniel was a new customer – and the rest is rapidly evolving history.

Daniel parks in the free spot right by the entrance and kills the engine.

"Wanna head in with me? We could grab a bite after," to his offer, Max makes a noncommittal sound. Daniel's nerves ease up, strangely.

"Not hungry. I'll just walk around," Max fishes his phone out of his pocket, wiggles it in front of Daniel's face, sounding pleased. "I'll keep myself busy."

He promptly exits the car and stops to watch several cars drive by. Daniel follows Max suit. It's easier, if he's being honest with himself, to make these visits by his lonesome. Daniel catches himself missing Max's company from time to time but not this instance. He eyes the broad line of Max's shoulders, the back of his neck. Then convinces himself not to let his gaze slide down and maneuvers between people passing him by.

Walking inside the coffee shop, Daniel's senses gets hit with an amalgamation of enticing smells and monotonous pre-lunch hubbub. The guy behind the main counter is new. Super young and super into flirting with a couple of customers who are way out of his league if Daniel was to judge. He should not pry so publicly but does so anyway, briefly lifting the shades up. The glimmer of the new guy's soul is patchy, purplish but mostly light blue. All clean across the board. Daniel covers his eyes again, then turns on his heels and walks towards the opposite side of the cafe. There, stashed in an artisanal looking corner with a myriad of meticulously stacked wooden shelves, Alex has his hands folded across his chest and his hip propped against the sturdy looking counter. He's giving Daniel a pointed look.

"That's your new guy?" Daniel asks instead of a greeting, pointing back at the counter with his thumb. "Is he–"

"Witchy?" Alex interjects. His smile seems twitchy and he blinks a bit maniacally. "Absolutely. You saw yourself, didn't you? Franco has a long way to go but I can work with that. Though, checking out my recent hires is not why you're here, Daniel. We both know it, so let's get to it."

Daniel places his elbows on the mahogany table separating him and Alex, then slips his shades to the tip of his nose and stares in faux indignation.

"Oh my, Alexander, so forward," he drawls. "No special treatment for little old me?"

Alex levels with him, lips drawn into a thin line.

"Uh-huh," he eyes Daniel with utmost suspicion. "Are you done playing house with a demon?"

Yeah. That.

"Alex, c'mon–"

"You yourself told our good friend Charles not to beat around the bush and deal with a hitchhiker in Pierre's soul with your fancy demon knife," Daniel unglues himself from the counter, turning his back on Alex, exhaling audibly on purpose. Anger is an old friend paying him a new visit but Daniel's hospitality appears lacking. When he turns back around, Alex places his hands in his hips and continues on with his tirade. "You know, the knife? One that, wait, let me remember this correctly. Hm. Right! One that famously sends demons back to the luscious green pastures of hell."

"I don't think they're green," Daniel tries. His attempt at a joke lands limply between the cracks. Alex is not having it.

"Daniel."

He rolls his eyes and cranes his head to beg the painted ceiling for mercy.

"God, you're so testy today."

"I'm just looking out for you," Alex exclaims and then lowers his voice. "You think I wouldn't prefer less funerals?"

Daniel clamps his mouth shut. He looks outside the panoramic window by the entrance and, by design, spots a familiar figure. Max is leaning against his car, bathed in the afternoon sun, tapping on his phone. Next to him, a cat sits on the hood of Daniel's car, languidly swaying its tail around. From where Daniel stands, the cat seems to watch Max keenly.

They made him take an oath, back in the day, official as hell. Daniel swore on some dusty ass book and got a hunter's coin in return. Thing is, folks don't become demon hunters on a sudden whim or because they're craving to spice up their life. Nobody gets dropped into this life willingly. Daniel has learned that lesson the hard way.  

Daniel did a couple of hunts with a guy named Carlos, who came from a long generation of demon hunters. He was a peculiar fella but so damn good at his job. Daniel made sure to stay in touch with him, just in case. Making connections is part of the whole family shebang. Carlos spoke of hunting like it was written in his destiny or whatever, like it was a testament to his skills and his family's legacy. Daniel, on the other hand, felt a gap in that connection. He was just born with funky vision. Otherwise, perfectly mundane.

As long as Daniel had his eyes, he was a valuable asset, a diamond cherry on top. Without his vision, well. Demon hunting doesn't have a pension plan.

He took that oath just for the hell of it. Apart from being outdated and unnecessarily convoluted, it has one golden rule that every hunter, young and old, should follow unequivocally. Daniel abided by it without much thought, up until the ever-present oath came in butting heads with his own set of morals and his gut feeling screaming at him to abandon it at all cost.

"Yeah. I know," Daniel murmurs, switching his attention back to Alex. "Look, I'm taking care of it. It's not all bad, ya know? Just a little more time before I can do my thing. And save a life."

Save himself.

Alex regards him with something akin to pity. Daniel slips his shades off and pockets them away. He can't bring himself to find any solace in the azure hue engulfing Alex from head to toe. And he could do without lectures surrounding his fuck ups.

"I'll be right back," Alex says, finally. He disappears behind the door next to the shelves that have medicinal herbs written on them in intricate cursive.

Daniel lets his eyes rest, shutting them softly.

Then, he remembers.

A summoning circle laid out with bones. Markings older than time itself etched into the stones on the ground soaked in rain. Bile rising up his throat as the smell of sulfur hanging thick in the air hits Daniel and his knees buckle. Eviscerated bodies, dozens of them, their faces burned off; an assortment of limbs strewn all over the circle. And blood. Rivers of it feeding the soil beneath.

He remembers, again — shaking, gripping his knife until his hand went numb. Rain pouring into his eyes. Silence ringing loud, louder than the screams Daniel heard from afar. In the middle of the summoning circle, curled in on himself, a naked body of a man. Pale as death. Daniel's legs leading him forward, his instincts going off like a siren. Kneeling on the ground and ignoring the squelch upon making impact with the ground; rolling a cold and limp but breathing body onto its back. And then immediately going half-blind.

He broke the oath that night.

The door creaks. Daniel opens his eyes.

"Don't forget," Alex says as he pushes a piece of what looks like parchment paper across the table. Daniel stares at the scribbles written all over. They wouldn't make sense to him, ever, but Alex is a master of his craft. "Skin to skin, then the activation word. Don't mess it up. Took me a week to draw this seal properly. I already feel the build up effect of all the previous ones diminishing. Rapidly. There is only so much my seals can do."

Daniel folds the paper and carefully slides it into the back pocket of the jean shorts he's wearing. He shouldn't delay activating the seal.

"My thanks to you, Alexander, the great seal master," he tries to sound cheerful. Beams with a smile that doesn't reach his eyes, then end up dropping the act. Daniel studies the cracks in the table before he manages enough courage to look up at Alex again. "Hey. Can you do me a solid?"

"I'm still in the middle of doing a rather big one for you but sure," Alex sighs, overdramatic. "I'll just add it to your tab."

Daniel chews the inside of his cheek, ruminating. He breathes in, then, lowering the pitch of his voice.

"What's the color of Max's eyes?"

"Max's eyes? Why–" Alex catches himself momentarily. Daniel sees when the full weight of realization sinks into his mind. His eyes soften and he gives Daniel a tight-lipped smile, rolls back his shoulders. He looks aside, to the panoramic window, then back at Daniel. He's talked to Max before, and seen him up close. Daniel knows he's stalling. Solemnly, Alex says: "Blue. Rather pretty."

It fits the picture Daniel had painted in his head. During some sleepless night, it was all he could think about.

"Pretty, huh?" he repeats. Then raps his knuckles on the table, bidding Alex a goodbye. "Thanks, mate. I really owe you one."

"Use protection!" Alex yells loudly after him. Daniel cringes, his shoulder lifting up to his ears. Motherfucker. He catches Alex following up, though more quietly: "And don't die."

That's the plan. Easy on paper, impossible in the long run. Daniel could really use the odds being stacked in his favor.

Outside, the air feels thick. Daniel tries to will his lungs to expand but it's a hopeless ordeal. He puts his shades back on, shrinking in on himself in defeat. The paper seal stashed in his pocket feels like it's going to leave a burn mark on his ass. Maybe Alex did something to it on purpose. Daniel could really use a laugh now.

Instead, he thinks of how he's going to covertly press a new seal onto the designated spot on the back of Max's neck, same place he'd placed many that came before. There ought to be some scarring. Daniel thinks of adding another shackle to the gaps in Max's memory and the other things sealed away by Alex's magic, things way beyond Daniel's comprehension.

He thinks of the time running out; of his own selfishness and want. Thinks he might never find it in himself to let go.

"We can go now?" Max asks without missing a beat as he pushes his body off the car. Daniel's head darts up, his train of thought tearing itself away from the plague of possibilities. "I found a woman who agreed to talk to us. Maybe she knows me."

Daniel's stomach churns.

"Great," he steps in front of Max and digs around in his front pocket. "Wanna drive for a bit?"

He offers up the keys and Max swiftly swipes them from Daniel's hand. Even with a brief contact, there is a hint of cold to the touch.

He knows his way around Max by now. Knows how unintentionally funny he is at times and how picky he's with food. Daniel has gotten used to having Max in his space, keeping him all to himself; driving around the city and looking for answers Daniel already knows but he's too fucking selfish and self-righteous.

For the first time today, Daniel has enough guts to really looks at Max.

There is darkness he cannot escape; eyes he cannot hide from. At times Daniel considers his gift of vision nothing but a fatal curse. With Max, he avoids using it as much as he can allow. Look everywhere but directly into his face. Yet every single time Daniel dares to hope the outcome would be different, dares to hope the seals worked their magic, he's proved painfully wrong. His shades are of no use; Daniel doesn't need to tilt his vision sideways either. Not for Max.

As if filled out with pitch black ink, the eyes darker than the cavernous void always stare back at him.

Daniel blinks and his heart gives a devastating tug.

Shadowy arms, familiar in their wretchedness, caress Max's head, his cheek and his shoulders; wrap around his waist, slide down his thighs and envelop him whole. Some hands miss fingers and one looks like a scythe. Those limbs, they are not covered in blood. Not anymore; not yet. Daniel knows it's temporary.

It always ends in blood. And, for Max, Daniel is willing to spill rivers of it.