#the worms were famished

[death-by-uwu]

Hey guys 👋🤓

Absence due to being a stem student BUT my classes are ending real soon and as a treat for surviving I blacked out and drew a bunch of rachbeck CUS I NEED THAT PATHETIC EXCUSE OF A SAILOR!!!

I'm so glad that selfshipping has gotten popular cus now I can unapologetically post them :•))

Expect much much more

-edit- I forgot to add the fic continuation of the first lil comic 💀💀

[littleplasticrat]

Cherries and Sulphur

The pin up of the month is Raphael the Cambion. The viewer finds him casually lounging beside the healing pool in the House of Hope, but how long has he been waiting there, practising his pose?

"The house of hope. Where the tired come to rest, and the famished come to feed – lavishly."

Nude pin up (NSFW)

"Ah, little mouse. So good of you to come," said Raphael, his rich voice echoing through the chamber. The humidity of the boudoir had you pulling at your collar as a trickle of sweat ran down your neck.

"Come to me," he commanded. As you stepped forwards, yellow light wreathed him. You saw a familiar set of wings unfurl, then his horns, then then light receded to reveal... To reveal-

You swallowed as you struggled to keep your eyes on his, instead of roaming over his cambion form, laid bare for you. His smile deepened, and he crushed the cherries he had been holding in his fist. You dared not look where the juices were dripping.

This is the only thing I've been able to think about this month. Please enjoy the brain worms xx

[anony-man]

Chubformers drabble #109!

Characters: Cyclonus & Tailgate (IDW)

Word count: 1.4k

There was nothing better than a good round of relaxing yoga after a long hour of strenuous exercise, said no one ever. Except maybe Drift, or even Cyclonus, who had become rather obsessed with getting himself back into working order as of late. Tailgate wasn’t sure what all the fuss was about, but he had to admit, he was starting to like it… the nice fat aft poised inches from his face, that is.

He wasn’t much for exercise regimens when the only things he was built to do were limited to his core uses, and that wasn’t a can of ener-worms the minibot was about to pop open. Still, he hadn’t passed on the chance to join his conjux in reaching out to their old CMO’s beloved partner after their not-so-pleasant annual trip to the medibay.

They were at peace now, which meant settling in for the long haul. Of course they were going to gain a bit of weight! Tailgate had expressed this countless times to Cyclonus, who had merely glowered at the reflection in the mirror while pinching at the fat on his frame with rough fingers every time.

This wasn’t like him, he’d say, picking at the piled up plate of food during their shared refueling sessions. He wasn’t built to carry all of this excess weight. Autobot or no, he had still been something bigger, something more powerful, a time before. He could hardly stand to look at himself anymore and witness the major damage just a few months of rest had done to his slim frame.

If you asked Tailgate, all that talk was nothing more than a pile of scrap. What was there to criticize? Cyclonus was finally settling in for a life of peace, and Tailgate was right there with him. So what if they gained a little here and softened a little there?

Cyclonus cared, though, and cared deeply. If getting back into shape is what he wanted, then Tailgate would do anything everything to make it happen—all while loving on that perfectly plump frame of his, of course.

A bit of intel from First Aid meant reaching out to Ratchet who talked with his conjux, and from there, the two bots found themselves the private members of workout sessions with Drift. Tailgate did what he could to join in, but it was almost impossible to focus on straining his small body when Cyclonus was bent over in front of him.

Stretching was just as much of a struggle as the exercising had been, given their long hiatus from running for their lives or clinging to the tendrils of existence. With years of experience in stony fronts under his belt, the condensation covering Cyclonus’ frame and the tremble of jiggling thighs almost went unnoticed… but not by Tailgate—not by a long shot.

“Focus on aligning your intakes with the rhythm of your spark,” Drift was explaining, his arms thrown up in a gentle arc over his helm. “Breathe in… and breathe out. Try to touch the tips of your pedes, then relax…”

Tailgate didn’t have to be told twice, as the air left his chest all at once in a startled wheeze when that perfect pear shape bent in half. Sculpted thighs had grown twice their size in their off-time, and with every jerky movement of his conjux’s frame, those fat masses of metal and mesh scraped together, the constant chafe producing the slightest of sounds.

He was happy to support Cyclonus’ journey towards regaining his strength and endurance. Really, he was. However, Tailgate would have been lying if he said he wasn’t secretly dreaming of slotting his helm between the negative space between those legs and begging Cyclonus to squeeze.

Drift was leading them into downward dog now, and Tailgate tried to copy their movements. He watched Cyclonus carefully, his intake catching in his throat as the plump mech bent low and stuck his aft to the sky.

Primus, what Tailgate wouldn’t give to call it a day and drag them both off to their quarters. He was practically famished now, starved of those thighs locked around his face. Popping his interface array open in the middle of their exercising was probably frowned upon, but he almost couldn’t take it.

He wanted—no, needed—to bury his face in the fatty buildup of that soft pouch on the ex-Con’s belly. Proper mouth be damned, he wanted to drown himself in the lubricants of that valve while his helm was crushed between those thighs.

He needed… yes, he needed Cyclonus to bury him under the weight of his frame. He wanted to feel those plump aft cheeks against his face, and he wanted to run his servos over the soft mesh of those thighs, and he wanted to nuzzle his helm into to rolls of that belly.

It was all he could do to not outright ogle that aft. Tailgate tried to catch a peek of Drift from over his conjux’s shoulder, but the longer he stared, the harder it became not to give up and go back to admiring the jiggle of those fat aft cheeks as he struggled to hold his pose.

“Remember to breathe,” Drift chimed in again, his voice gentle. “Relax into the pose and breathe… in—“

He could hear Cyclonus’ shaky intake, the tremble of his frame drawing Tailgate’s attention right back to that aft and those thighs.

“—and out—“

Click!

…frag. Ohhh, frag.

Tailgate fell to his mat with a squeal, his concentration broken by the sound of his array. In an attempt to save face, he rushed to cover up the exposed mess of the built up tension behind previously closed panels he’d tried so hard to hide. Unfortunately for Tailgate, there was only so much that scrambling to his pedes and holding both servos in front of the dribbling tip of his spike could do to hide the fact that he had most definitely been eyeing his conjux’s fat aft instead of joining in on the exercising.

“Sorry!” he managed to say in the middle of snatching up his towel and scurrying for the door. “Sorry, so sorry!”

While Drift sat in place with a confused frown, Cyclonus was already reaching for his own towel and glaring over his shoulder at the poor minibot with a poorly concealed blush. He didn’t dare speak, especially not when Tailgate was running this way and that, an incoherent blabber of apologies following his attempts at cleaning up and hauling his aft out the door at the speed of light.

Tailgate, at least, had enough sense left in him to head straight for their quarters to deal with… well, this. He’d leave Cyclonus to do the talking with Drift over their next scheduled exercise session, or yoga session, or whatever the hell it was they had planned with his conjux that got him so wound up.

He really couldn’t help himself, especially when Cyclonus looked so fragging hot. How could he not admire a frame like that, especially when it was perched mere inches from his face?

As he stumbled out the door, his towel hanging limply from his servos and only partially covering the embarrassment of popped panels poking up from underneath, he could hear Drift’s hesitation following him in a tentative request at their next possible meetup.

“Um…” the swordsmech began, sounding as though he were trying very hard not to bring up what had just happened. “Same time tomorrow?”

He didn’t stick around long enough to hear Cyclonus’ response, but really, he didn’t need to. Another round of intensive yoga meant getting a front row seat to the beauty of that mech’s stretched frame, and despite his little oopsie today, Tailgate wasn’t about to pass up on that opportunity.

Another round with Drift sounded promising, and the minibot was already figuring out just what he would say to convince Cyclonus to let him join again. First things first, though, as he still had to figure out how to take care of his current predicament, too. The solution to that was a simple one, though, and one involving a little bit of private time in their habsuite and a lot of that perfectly jiggly aft settling down onto his face.

If Cyclonus wanted to strengthen up and get back into shape, Tailgate was all for helping him get there. Still, that didn’t come without its own conditions… and the horny little minibot was more than happy to make sure they came to an agreement.

[morbidlychubese]

Did you honestly think that you could stop gaining? This is what you were meant for. You’re a cow, meant for fattening until you’re unrecognizable. Until your every moment is begging for someone to slide more lard down your throat. You’ll make a perfect breeding cow. Immobile and Pathetic.

I tried so hard. I thought about exercising some more. I thought about resisting the urge to binge on candy and fast food. I thought about just plain watching my calories. But I couldn't. I couldn't even start. The urge for more wormed its way back into my head as a memory that cannot be forgotten. My breakfast yesterday had the same amount of calories as what a normal person would eat in an entire day. And when i thought about going for a walk to burn some of those calories off, the doft and gentle wobbling of my belly stole my attention. And i still coupd exercise, but only to induce that feeling of being famished. Only to see my body melt once more into a puddle of fat. I'm not normal. I need to gorge and eat and get fat and blobby. I need to be someone's fat fuckpet. I need to encourage others to grow as unhealthy and obese as I am. To be fat is my purpose. I can't just let it go.

[littleslithewhump]

Day 17 - licking 

V’s shoulder gives way, the strappado turning the pain of the humbler, the pain of the nipple clamps, into a throbbing, heartbeat undercurrent. He’s exploding. Red clouds his vision.

It’s my fault. It’s my fault. It’s my fault. 

It’s a mantra and a degradation. He coughs up bile and it wrenches his shoulder further. He loses consciousness and the pain on his joints when he collapses jolts him back. 

Timelessness–he’s not himself, he’s just someone who has been bad, in a hell that he himself made through his forgetting. 

-

The professor’s body–my pet’s body –is a ruin. Red and purple spills all over his skin, layered over healing yellow and greens. The fingerprint bruises embedded on his skinny thighs make my mouth fill with saliva.

He doesn’t even notice me approaching: just coughing and crying and whimpering, face turned to the floor.

One of his shoulders is purpled and bruised, dislocated after his hour to himself. The sight makes my cock twitch in interest. 

I kneel before him, hooking a finger under his collar. He turns his weepy eyes to me. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry–I was so bad–I’m sorry”--

It’s satisfying. Gratifying. He’s so broken down. Nearly turned to what I want him to be. 

“Beg me to fuck you.” 

He doesn’t even hesitate. He pleads and squirms, fucked-out eyes wheeling around wildly. 

I unhook his chains, releasing him from the strappado. He crumples to the floor like wet paper. 

I undo the rest of his predicaments–even unbinding his hands–listening to him whining on each exhale as he shivers and shakes like one of those damn rat dogs. I roll him to his back. His dislocated arm seems completely immobile, flopping uselessly. 

“Keep begging, pet.” 

He seizes up in fear, speaking breathlessly as I straddle him. 

I dig my thumb into his ruined shoulder. He shrieks, but keeps up his string of whining little pleas. 

I can’t deny myself the pleasure of bending down to lick his shoulder. To lap at the purple bruise, to tongue the place where it swells, where it bends in the wrong place. Even the gentle pressure of licking makes him cry out and shudder and melt under me. 

Weak. Weak when I caught him, weak now. Every part of him is famished, blushing, bruising weakness. And now he fucking knows it. 

I crouch in front of his face, my boot jamming the palm of his immobile arm into the cement, reminding him that even if he were strong enough to move his limbs at all, he would still be mine. He licks me, licks my balls and cock. Ground into the floor, like the sniveling worm he is. Sucking at me like I’m his final meal. 

When I shove my cock in his throat, he knows better than to bite down, knows better to do anything but just take it. His eyes roll back in his head when I finish.  

After I catch my breath, pulling my cock out his throat, I ask. “Have you learned your lesson?”

My pet nods. His bleary eyes and open mouth leak. 

I hit him round the face. His head swivels like his neck is made of rubber. 

“Speak.” 

He whimpers out a “Yes, sir.” Barely audible, but I decide to take mercy on him. 

“Good. I’ll even fix your shoulder for you.”

His eyebrows furrow. It’s…cute. How bad he’s become at protesting. 

When I pop it back in place, he screams and screams and screams. 

[tunastime]

HOW ABOUT.... 77 >:3

oh shepherd. ohhh shepherd. 77 is shark week and its really a shame that shark week is so low considering that everything everything was my top artist of 2023, narrowly beating glass animals and usurping their 5 year streak. so um this is about ben and tom to me smiles

(668 words)

It’s a busy night.

That bodes well for Tom, who makes his way through the halls of the lab, following stripes of color through the bright white light. He makes his way through groups of testificates, blocking out questions and chatter, putting his mind away from whatever they could be working on. He wasn’t focused on that, tonight. He wouldn’t be asked about his trip. Not that he would be in the first place—that’s what he got for being good at his job. Nobody asked questions. Well. Xephos asked questions. But his questions were always to the point, and they were always a wrap around to the answer he was expecting, so as long as Tom was on his toes, he could answer them without saying anything at all. 

Nevertheless of all of that, he slips his way through the halls of the lab, and through a few access doors, and to a room, where he stands for a moment, fishing for his keycard. When he swipes, the door slides open, letting in a bar of light. He steps in quickly, light disappearing for a short moment, until the lamp beside the bed clicks on.

In white-yellow light, Ben looks awful.

It’s not that he normally looks good, either, which is unfortunate, but he looks exhausted. The lines of his face grow darker in the low light, especially as he blinks awake, scrubbing at his eyes. Tom feels a sharp pang through his chest as he realizes he’s woken him, but the relief etched across Ben’s face as he locks eyes with him diffuses the guilt almost instantly.

“Hi, Ben,” Tom says, a smile worming onto his face.

“Tom,” Ben sighs, leaning back on his hands. His shoulders seem to relax almost immediately as he settles, as Tom steps more into the room. He sets his coat and clipboard on the nightstand, ruffling through the pockets as he does. He holds out a bundle of napkins for Ben. Ben cups his hands, holding the bundle for a moment before Tom gestures for him to open it. 

“What is it?” Ben asks, tilting his head. The corners of his mouth lift up just so as he looks up at Tom. Tom’s still grinning, eyes squinted behind his glasses. He gestures again.

“It's for you,” Tom says. Ben snorts, rolling his eyes as he unfurls the napkins in his palm. Inside, Tom’s saved bread and cheese, crushed together from being shoved into his coat pocket, but largely still edible, and no small portion either. Ben’s face lights up, eyes flicking from the food in his hands and Tom’s face.

“You’re serious?” Ben asks. Tom nods, folding his arms as he comes to sit on the end of the bed, giving Ben enough space to stretch out his legs. Ben tears into the bread, almost famished, sighing as he chews. He smiles at Tom through his food, as if he’s holding back a laugh, and that alone sets a warm thing turning in Tom’s chest.

“Thank you,” Ben hums, swallowing with some difficulty. He reaches for the glass of water at the bedside, taking a small sip. Tom kicks himself—next time. Next time, tomorrow, or the day after, or two days from now, he’ll bring a whole canteen of water. He’ll sneak him away. He’ll make sure he actually gets clean, that he gets rest, a warm meal. Anything he can sneak to him. Anything that the testificates, that Xephos won’t miss.

Until then, Ben eats, savoring the food like he’ll never get a chance to eat again. Even in the white light, his face regains a bit more color, warm in the high of his cheeks. Tom laughs a bit under his breath, the motion shaking his shoulders. 

“Of course, Ben,” he says, furrowing his eyebrows. “What else am I good for?”

Ben laughs, a solid sound from his chest, and Tom laughs with him. He’s not sure when he decides it, but he knows now, more than ever, that he’s leaving. And he won’t be leaving without Ben beside him.

(spotify wrapped ask meme)

[viktorgf]

—OCS AND VILLAIN SONGS

hey what’s up you guys welcome back to my channel— i did this post on my old blog ages ago which is unfortunately lost to time now and i wanted to do it again. so this has gotta be like, the third time some of y’all are seeing this but. fuck it we ball.

born from a post made by @unholymilf a loooong time ago that as more or less a question of if ur oc was a boss fight, what song would be playing and it struck me so here is ALL of my brain worms, including some new ones from the last post!

ANDIE— le soleil est près de moi; air.

POV: you’re bleeding out as andie is standing over you, burning white hot, hotter than the sun setting behind her. she is passionate and… reckless, and will swear this was self-defense. even if she struck first. even if she didn’t blink. even as she watches the life leave your body.

BIANCA— tricycle express; gaspard augé, mr. oizo.

POV: bianca is white knuckling her steering wheel, swiping her car against the side of your own for miles down the freeway. she is gonna run you off the road. she absolutely will; it’s unavoidable, and she’s gonna laugh while she’s doing it. this is the song she’s listening to.

CELESTE— vision; m83.

POV: “you will die soon. sooner than you were supposed to, now.” celeste deadpans as she hovers her hand over your forehead and waves. she makes a show of it, though her clairvoyance doesn’t require as much. you wish you had listened to her and thought better of asking in the first place. “it will be violent, and painful. give ares my best. leave my temple.” but you didn’t, and now it’s too late. your fate is sealed.

ELVIRA— old river; orville peck.

POV: you’re stiff, hairs on the back of your neck standing up. you’re being watched. this is a different kind of observation than the one you’re used to— the seeds constantly run surveillance on you, but this doesn’t feel as passive. you’re being hunted. and when you dare to turn on your heels to see elvira standing behind you with a crossbow bolt nocked with your name on it, you almost wish jacob was here to kill you instead. somehow, you know it would be more merciful.

OSLO— pennsylvania furnace; lingua ignota.

POV: oslo isn’t the deputy anymore. they’re the judge. eden’s gate is up a member who is worth a million and the resistance mourns a million more.

FAUSTINA— beyond the horizon; olivier deriviere.

POV: faustina is the last line of defense between you and the mother church. she’s a penitent, too, you must understand. the consecrated red ribbons she’s wrapped in are suffocating her the longer she takes to excommunicate you and she will try every prayer at her disposal to stop it—to stop you.

JEN— krack; soulwax.

POV: jen is chasing you through the fib building after she snitches on your whole operation to the iaa. you are an enemy of the state, but more importantly— you’re an enemy to agent jennifer daniels. she wants you dead, and you will be soon enough. especially if it’s up to her. and as of right now, she has you cornered in an interrogation room with nowhere to go and a gun to your head.

LOTTIE— arsonist’s lullabye; hozier.

POV: hawkins is ablaze, and lottie is at the scene of the crime staring into the flames.

LINDY— señor (tales of yankee power); jerry garcia.

POV: there’s barely anyone left to call a gang, and dutch knows as much. but he won’t admit it— that would require him admitting guilt for the losses, too. and he should be so lucky he’s still breathing; lindy wants to empty an entire revolver clip into his thick skull but knows she wouldn’t live long enough to feel the satisfaction. so she does the next best thing, and turns her back. there isn’t anything left for her, anyway. she would risk a lifetime of looking over her shoulder over having to look at him.

MAGS— change (in the house of flies); deftones.

POV: you’re being experimented on in an umbrella sanctioned lab and in walks mags— who you thought was on your side. after all, well fed devils behave better than famished saints. but not this one, she’s much worse.

MILDRED— god unbounded; uboa.

POV: you have just returned from the dead because some weirdo with a god complex and a proficiency in reanimating corpses decided that she needed the practice. and now that’s your problem, because you definitely have come back Wrong. but you’re back! surprise!

NICOLE— heart in a cage; the strokes.

POV: you’re witness to an absolute bloodbath as nicole goes crazy on the field. she’s completely lost herself, she isn’t in control anymore. she was always dangerous but now she’s lethal. she’s already gotten some of her own killed, and somebody needs to take her out before it gets worse. she’s a wild animal. and to her, you’re fresh meat.

SIBYL— summit song; nicole dollanganger.

POV: she drowns you in her scrying pool and you are never heard from again. it’s your own fault, really— anna henrietta told you to leave her be and you didn’t listen.

ROSALIND— goodbye; soap&skin, apparat.

POV: she begs mike for the coordinates of where it happened and he doesn’t budge. he never will. he doesn’t trust her not to take a shovel to the earth and dig him up. so in her state of delirium, she walks through the desert and screams and cries and repents. and becomes her own biggest villain.

ODETTE— graveyard; midnight syndicate.

POV: odette quite literally haunts her family estate, left to fall into disrepair. she’s a grief stricken wraith born of despair who brutally attacks anyone who dares step into her tomb. she’s a master illusionist even in death, so if you choose to fight her instead of just leaving, just make sure you first remove the mirrors from the wall.

okay whew that was a TASK but i’m gonna make this a tag game cs i wanna see Y’ALL make ur ocs evil and give them a soundtrack so hehe @florbelles @unholymilf @shellibisshe @ghostfvcker @benwishaw @loriane-elmuerto @leviiackrman @jackiesarch @rosayoro @statichvm @teamhawkeye @bloodofvalyria @red-nightskies @confidentandgood @simply-jason @scalpelsister @devilbrakers @lxmbert and you!

[arlecchinoprojectharbringerask]

||| The Solemn Knave - Harlequin |||

A curious little rat scurries about the ruins of Remnant Peak, where the Weaver fell-- Swallowed by the Abyss ever famished. Or really, the foolish woman with lofty ideals willingly marched right into the jaws waiting, put herself into the grasping hands. So devoted to her ambition for performance... Heheh. Honestly, that amateur was already mailable from the start, I'd only given her a little nudge.

Ahh, Illucia, Illucia, silly little Illucia. For calling herself a, nay, THE Weaver, she sure was sloppy. Ah well, it's all yesterdays' news on the mill. T'was hilarious watching her antics for sure. Just like this silly mortal over there prancing about like headless- Pfft, really now? Hehehe, such obvious ruse. Good grief! I've seen many actors come and go, but you're just not even trying there, are you, eh?

The second the human heard the merry song of the bells, saw his top hat emerge and the entertained sneer of laughter? Bolted off like a frightened, poor wee rabbit. And how could he possibly insult the worm, by not playing along, hm? Hah! Thus, the wolf of ink, shadows and mirthful mischief gives chase.

Heart thundering on the verge of leaping out of her ribcage, Alex darts through the ruins. Doesn't need to look back, vision zeroed in on making it to the circles that damn snide little mage has set up. ..Hounded without mercy, the monster toying and cackling as he bounces in and out of the ground. Sure, I been dabbling with the Syndicates who deflected from the Weaver, and my lot were lumped in with 'em back in the day-- Ugh, keep running. For gods' sake Alex keep running or it's not just you done for.

"Magister! Clown o'clock! Clown o'clock!" -The stench of something breathes down on her nape. The glare of a glowing maw, almost about to clamp down, those pits boring straight through- "Get outta there!" - The Archmage barks back, the elaborate circles flaring sharply right as the knight ducks out of range-

And the menace, terror, smacks right into the invisible wall. Caught, chains shooting as the runes lift off the ground- Ensnared. Firmly crashes onto the ground with a furious, startled and shocked shriek of protests, threats and insults unspeakable. But no matter how much the mischief-maker wildly thrashes and kicks against his binds wound around his gangly little body, squawking and screeching, it's futile. Merlin seals the incantation with one final shout thunderous, the spiral of colorful flames swirling above the fiend shooting down.

.... Should've been smidge more careful.

Out of all the shrieks and screeches- This last one howl ripping out of those jaws is the most ghastly. Wail that turns to a sequence of more wounded, distressed howls, the string of fire flowing into him like venom slowly injected. An arrow embedding itself deep, a disease. And then a 'thud' was the end, the Hypogean laying as if dead.

But Magister Merlin keeps on chanting, changing the spell to another-- Of binding, permanent and irreversible. Sealing the Clown and Fire, and yanking this new entity into a strict contract. Slowly flames of shimmering color rise, like crystallized blood, enveloping the jester like a cocoon of delicate threads. Until Berial, or what remains of the fool, is but a mummy.

As Merlin chants, within the chords, the Hypogean floats drifting in a void. Before him, stands a face he can't remember, never cared to. A lost descendant of a diplomatic dynasty, the phantom's eyes half-way a mirror of his own... Or are mine mirroring his..? The magic strings gripping and stitching them into conjoined 'twins' weave, and weave, ripping barriers....

Flowing their beings into each other like playing with cups of chemicals or colored water. ...Rising from the Abyss, borne to loving arms and a soft, sweet voice welcoming him into Life- Which ones are mine? Was I really healing? No, no- Not me. Not mine, His. Ioan's. ...Or me? Us? ....So that's what happened.. I....get it.... I'm loosing....the line.....

....Merlin...

The chrysalis ignites, the cocoon of threads having now formed wings not quite of blood nor fire- An amalgam. The gaps in between the feathers giving a glimpse of closed lids on a white face, eyes snapping open--- Blank. There are red vertical pupils in them, stern and grim, red and black paint around them of a harlequin. Thrown back, shoved out of the way and flared to full span, the rest of the figure is revealed.

Curly short inky hair now having a reddish taint and some streaks straight, snowy ..Like bloody tears or tar, inky wings ablaze with those dark, blood-alike flames crackling at the tips and melted parts, attire a tailcoat and mismatched on the garment under it. Red, dark grey and black, the thin long owl-like eyebrows furrowed into a somber, cold frown as the being lands onto his feet silently.

Stalking towards the Magister in that unnerving, dutiful calm. As he holds a scythe in hand. And his voice a rasp, reminiscing of Berial's... But not quite.

"Merlin."

"From this day forth, Harlequin, Knave of contracts-- Are bound forevermore under my cause. My will, is yours. Or cease to exist, should you rebel against your own will that is mine." Something flashes on that clinically devoid mask, subtext and context left unvoiced- Only between the Magister and Knave. The Arch-magus already thinking of adding the Puppet to the Heroic Order, as their hound, the decree added swiftly into the Contract's many numerous clauses.

A tiny pull back of the lips as though a wince or snarl, eyes narrowing in disdain and silent ire-- A lock finalized. The eyes go full dark blood-red almost black, then flash back to their near pearlescent color, pupils gone.

"Hm." You're smarter than I originally thought, Merlin. Didn't take you for the underhanded type.

No more games, Arlecchino. Time to get serious. Your oath, is to watch over Esperia in its whole, fight off the ones whom were your kin at all cost. Protect the world of Esperia, its denizens, me and my familiars, at all costs. This is your vow, binding oath and contract.

Merlin lifts a hand, a wordless decree--

And the Solemn jester disappears into a flurry of dark, bloody flames, flickering embers of gold, orange, scarlet and teal amidst them.

The Sentinel set on his eternal duty, a contract he can never fulfill nor escape and know freedom. A silent, cold-blooded, emotionless guardian watching over Esperia as his puppeteer's bidding, command. Any hypofiends and Hypogeans found would be swiftly, and efficiently hunted, dealt with.

[caffsy]

FFXIV Write #21 – Shade

During the investigation afterwards, it had been determined that the Moks’ self-immolation had been a byproduct of the spell that he had attempted to cast. It was found that it had great similarity to western thaumaturgy, but drew in a vast amount of aether from an unknown source. The great amount of power, more than he could handle, had sparked out of control and burned him alive from the inside.

Yusi was banking on that selfsame effect as she willed the selfsame spell into existence. The mixing of her and her target’s lifebloods and her magic tool embedded within the great sandworm gave her enough of a sympathetic link to alter the spell’s destination.

The sand worm attempted to burrow away but could not help but writhe in place as if it were shaking off a swarm of intangible creeping vilekin. Yusi’s spell had effectively lit a fire within its body, centred on the sceptre. She continued incanting the syllables turning the rhythmic syllables, which rent the air asunder and wrought countless sleepless nights, into a salvation. A keen shattering sound indicated the swift southward direction of this plan.

The simple bone sceptre had no chance of holding within the raw power channelled by the advanced spell and had shattered, scattering bone and crystal fragments. No longer with a focus to anchor to, the spell which had run wildfire once before did so again to its two participants. Yusi’s incanting had been cut off to protect herself from flying shards and she screamed as her blood heated. She laid flat against the cool sand and took deep breaths, making use of her wide vocabulary by stringing together an incomprehensible paragraph of multilingual swear words.

Yusi felt like it could have been seconds, minutes, or hours before the stupor of heat and pain waned enough for her to string thoughts together. She crawled over the dune and grabbed her spear, using the haft to support her as she shakily got to her feet.

She hobbled over to her backpack, which had gotten flung off in the entire ordeal, and tore into the few supplies she still had left. She was exhausted, famished, in terrible pain, deeply dehydrated. She was in no mood to plan or think critically, and so she unfurled another curio from the depths of her backpack. She pulled out the long carpet, laid it beside the carcass, and pushed with all her might to roll the sandworm onto it.

A small trickle of magic was all it took to get the carpet to lift briefly into the air. It would run out of its own power soon enough and begin unravelling – cannibalising itself for fuel. In Yusi’s opinion, it was going to hold. It would hold. Or else.

The lingering warmth, or deadened nerves, from the spell that doomed the worm shaded Yusi from the frigid desert air as she retraced her steps back to the entrance to Sector Phi. She could not have told why no further predators decided not to ambush, but in the moment, she felt certain that it was her terrible attitude.

[hologramblue]

wrt last reblog it was flight fucking rising of all things. okay so. years and years ago flight rising decided the background metaplot was going to be about how when the dragon gods reappeared in the world and made dragons, this caused a lot of trouble for the sapient "beastclans" already living on the planet, so The Playable "Faction" Is Secretly The Bad Guys Really and something something etc. naturally a lot of people were not super happy about being told that their dragons were violent colonizers by default. about a year ago the FR team went, yeah no that was stupid and we're sorry and we're gonna retcon all that, and developed a bunch of new lore with different sources of conflict in the setting that weren't Dragons Vs Little Guys.

i start with this background because like, the reason there needed to be a source of conflict in the setting to begin with - besides just "to help with RP" - is that FR has a coliseum mode where you stat up your dragons and go fight waves of enemies in different stages located around its world. which afflicts it with the same dilemma practically every fantasy video game has: you have gameplay involving beating the snot out of "enemies" and collecting the things they drop. what are those "enemies" and why is it okay to do that?

the ~classic~ answer is "because goblins are born evil".

one of the evolutions of that answer is "it's not actually okay and the player is morally compromised". for sure you can sometimes Say worthwhile things by taking this tack, but perhaps not through the medium of a dragon petsite populated by the kind of people who play petsites.

the other general path people take (short of rethinking the whole gameplay premise) is to move your "acceptable enemy" concept further and further away from anything with unfortunate real-life implications. they're robots/constructs/etc! they're REALLY buff vermin animals and culls are necessary to prevent loss of human life! they're, uhhh....undead and need to be laid to rest! they're possessed! and you're not actually killing them anyways, you're just smacking the possession out of them!

the latter is what FR went with, but as a text-only retcon that didn't actually change the composition of enemy packs in the coliseum, it sits kind of awkwardly on top of things.

FINALLY GETTING AROUND TO THE MAIN POINT within the last month, a new venue was released, the first new one to come out since the big retcon. and the story premise of this new venue, the "Silk-Strewn Wreckage", is as follows:

"Invasive glow worm and fire grubs have gorged upon massive amounts of flora and are preparing to pupate. Once they emerge, flighted and famished, they will continue to consume and proliferate. Large concentrations of these grubs have nested in the Silk-Strewn Wreckage. Dragons and Beastclans alike have come to control the population of these insects before they can do more damage, and to harvest the silk that they produce."

i saw this and nodded and thought yeah okay that's definitely a premise for beating the snot out of fodder enemies that isn't a war crime. it works.

but they specifically had to be invasive, which i thought was odd when you also have silk collection going on (and lots of familiars and drop items that establish this as a whole established industry rather than something new and disruptive like "invasive" suggests). like, it couldn't just be something that happens - these insects swarm, hunters go in and harvest a bunch of silk, that's just life in the setting. saying the bugs are invasive makes them into "acceptable enemies" in the vein of robots, undead, etc, more so than if they were just something that people hunt and whose populations are controlled by that hunting.

something about the state of public opinion here or whatever

[scarletooyoroi]

"Wait!" Tetsuya finds himself yelling out in a hurry towards the other. "Wait, damn it wait!" Believing that running will not help get him to the pyro user on time, the wanderer infuses himself with anemo and dashes towards him, having felt a rumble of the earth so violent that can only mean...

As if on cue the sand underneath Thoma begins to sink with something akin to a tail beginning to rise and pierce through the sinking. He had told him not to get too ahead! Where this burst of anxiety comes from he's unsure, since he does make it in time, his arms hooking underneath Thoma's from behind, right underneath his shoulders and he lifts him high up off the sand in time before the Wenut is able to pierce through Thoma's body and claim a new snack for itself. Upon the absence of new prey the Wenut sinks back into the sands and begins to move about once more, worming itself through the terrain in search of something else to claim as its feast.

"Tch," Tetsuya glares at the mystical beast, what a nuisance that is. Thoma more so right now for not listening to his warning. "I told you not to go too far ahead." He reminds, still holding him up in the air, deeming it unsafe for now until the Wenut is not within vision anymore.

To say that their journey by far held no shortage of an ill effect upon him was an understatement. It was no physical exhaustion or fatigue, rather, it was the heaviness in the soul that comes with encounters so many atrocious accounts of truth. A mind too imaginative can picture it well, how much the suffering that soaked these sands in blood, anguish and anger amidst this 'glory' were elements that Thoma couldn't find himself perceiving. Their mission of cracking open the depths to this 'Eternal Oasis' would be no easy challenge.

Their leads required a different branch of finesse in order to discover. Elemental sight found itself being a betrayal compared to any advantage due to how much sand basks in quiet radiance all around, causing this view to be glittering gold outside a few small details. That is, unless he can go through extra of honing his senses into new purposeful intent.

Even with this, what his mind fixates on is the heartbreaking story of Gurabad from many respective sides. Call it a curse for intentionally keeping his heart open, yet, there was no changing the core of his being. As heated air grazed his being, being left in a 'battle' with his thoughts left him sorely unaware of the stir of aggression that worked the sand into wild ripples underneath his feet. It's only when the ground unearth it's hidden denizen does his attention clicks in too late, leaving his body to freeze at the worst time as a single step back could only be made..

Maybe this is what leads to the greater fortune of the Thousand Winds looking out for him once more.

He's left being ascended to the heavens with an abrupt yelp as he's drawn to the stomach flattening high at such a rapid pace. With his arms now used to be the security for the 'harness' his companion created at this moment. It leaves him quickly shoving his head back into reality, to gain a taste of the sun's radiance, to the hazed flecks of sand attempting to dig purchase against his face, not to mention the biting voice behind him that adamantly worked to keep him afloat.

"...That-" Anything he tries to say dies within his lips. Irritation at his own behavior grates a familiar heat of life through his veins, at least for the situation at hand.

"Thank you."

"Did you sense it that far ahead of time?" He mutters, allowing his jade eyes to squint towards the emerald exhaust fuming from that skewer of a tail. The concentrations of Anemo were now wracking high, and it's clear their potentials certainly made it's appetite famished.

Another, more conscious part of the Fixer, just didn't want to admit to himself that his head has been clouded the more they've come to discover. A feeling within his gut however tells him that the perceptive Wanderer might've seen as such from a mile away. Instead, he brings his attention towards any potential solutions, ever holding the need to be helpful. If sand was a favored domain..

"Do you see any rocky purchases? Maybe we can level ourselves there."

@inavagrant

[death-by-uwu]

1/?

What's up linebeck nation I've recently been inflicted with phantom hourglass brainworms that's now passed

HOWEVER during that time linebeck fell into my pathetic girlfailure bbg pile and I had to act accordingly by making an oc so now I'm dumping all the art I made here

[luimagines]

The only moment when Twilight would be kind of a mean bean, is when passing besides reader, leans down a Little bit to their ear and just growls, then leaves as fast as he appeared, leaving behind a very flustered reader.

Or, Or! Reader is browsing a shop, somewhat hidden by the stalls, and Twilight happens to be their shopping buddy for the day!

A shame He feels in the playful mood today.

So while reader is very busy assessing the freshness of a vegetable, Twilight stands behind them very close; you could feel those well toned muscles of his pressing against your back. The fact that he is one of the tallest Links pivoted at the front of your mind as he leaned down on you, his far much larger frame almost shadowing yours and rested his chin on the crook of your neck.

His hot breath graces your flesh as he sighs.

"What are you looking at, lamb?" He whispers. His lips brushed the feverish skin with each word that went out of his mouth.

The produce in your hand fell back on the pile as your grasp grew limp.

You sucked back a noise when Twilight didn't wait for an answer-- not that you were in the right state of mind to give one, anyways-- and gave the area a small kiss, his cool lips a good, refreshing contrast with how feverish you felt from his subtle touch. His hands came to rest at the curve of your waist on each side, shamelessly pulling you flush towards him. With that little remaining space completely gone now, you could almost feel how much warm his body irradiated with the closeness the two of you had. If you could feel the bumps of his chesiled front before then now you can almost count all the full set of muscles brimming with raw strength.

Your hands came to clamp over his own, trying to pry them off but he didn't budge an inch. The sudden awareness of being in a public space fell on you like a bucket of cold water. As quickly as your position allowed, you turned your head to your left, where Twilight's face was. But you soon will grow to regret that decision.

When the tip of his nose pressed against your cheek, you felt how the corner of his mouth raises in a snarl, barring his teeth and then just growls. The noise was but a background sound to you, your mind disconnected from reality as the vibration of his growling felt like the ever deafening roar of a thunder striking land, just as paralyzing. Your body prickled with electricity and your muscles twitch from the surprise as the rumble traversed and spread to your back and chest, leaving a tingly, pleasant sensation after each wave.

A small yelp manages to wrench free from your clenched lips. One of your hands darted from the top of Twilight's hand to you mouth, muffling as hard as you could any other noise that might escape you.

You blinked your eyes, trying to bat away the moisture that have gathered there before slowly turning to meet a pair of stormy, dark blue ones. Twilight's usually clear eyes resemble those of a famished beast eyeing a piece of delicious morsel; his dilated pupils took on every inch of face, brandishing with fire in his mind that expression of yours with your wide, glassy pretty eyes.

He acted on instinct. His mouth open and, ever so gently, took a nip of your cheek. The prick of his fangs just a touch shy from actually puncturing the flesh, it shouldn't have felt that good to you. Even with how animalistic Twi is looking right now, he still manages to refrain of actually causing you pain.

Twilight gave a small kiss on the bite then retracted back, letting go of your body. You took a big breath of fresh air, your lungs aching from all of your shallow breathing you were taking.

When he actually took a couple of steps back, you spin around to be face to face with him, one hand on your chest and the other cupping the tender cheek. As you two make eye contact, Twilight gives you a toothy smile before slowly, licking the tip of his canines.

He winks at you and chuckles at your stunned, flushed face.

"The old man want us back. Just wanted to tell you that" he simply states, even shrugging his shoulders like he just didn't almost defile you in broad light.

"I'd wait for you, but you look like you need a moment" his voice sounds a little bit deep while chuckling his words.

Twilight then smiled innocently, ruffles your hair then leaves like no ones business.

A trembly sigh leaves you. With that pelt of his, this encounter truly felt like him being a big, bad wolf that, if it wasn't because you were in a public place, he would have jumped you in a heart bit, devouring you until there was nothing left of you but your undying adoration for him.

You don't know what made him act like that, but you certainly wouldn't mind if he repeated that in a more secluded, private place.

-----------

oH GOD. I KNOW I AM ABOUT TO BE SNIPPED BY PINKY.

BUT. I KEPT IT SUGGESTIVE... I THINK.

IT IS ALL THE FAULT OF THAT ANON FOR SAYING TWILIGHT GROWLING IN READER'S EAR. IT LEFT ME WITH A HEAVY CASE OF BRAIN WORMS IXKEICIDIIC

But on a serious note, sorry if this infringe with your rules, Pinky 😟

THIS!!!!

HOW DARE YOU!!!

LIKE?!?!?

HOW AM I TO COPE!!!

MY FRAGILE WEAK HEART CAN'T TAKE IT!

YOU STAYED PERFECTLY WITHIN THE LINES, MY GOD.

[yandere-toons]

Yandere Kaa (Platonic Scenario - "Snake in the Grass")

Warnings: Famine, Child Abandonment, Blood, Violence, Mention of Religious Concepts, Animal Death, Toxic Mindsets.

A.N. – There is quite a bit of symbolism in this, and it is very much an interpretive piece.

The stalks of maize that had once swayed in the breeze and glistened in the morning sun like towers of pearls were, after a period of insect domination, reduced to brown stubs. Mouths devoured the sour produce of the jungle with famished enthusiasm, only to gag when writhing worms, drenched in the humid glaze of rot, crawled from the hollow core of the fruit.

Hungry villagers wailed for a solution to their empty stomachs, and as the sick and old fell before the healthy, those with enough strength to protest turned their desperation onto the vulnerable.

From the day the sharp stones, as jagged and unforgiving as the cliff from which they had tumbled, pierced your eyes and imprisoned your battered body in a cot for much of the earlier year's harvest season, the spear and dagger were no longer yours to wield.

Gathering water from the river that flowed where the safety of the village ended and the danger of the jungle began had become your singular duty, for the elders thought it too simple to be ruined. The trough that held the entire village's supply of drinking water had resided in the same plot of grass beside the crops until the night it was found overturned, its contents missing and termites gnawing the wood.

Struggling with the clumsiness that came from learning to experience the world through alternative senses, you were then the subject of great suspicion and disdain.

"A curse has befallen our land," declared the chieftain, standing above his people on a day when three fresh graves had been dug. His voice boomed with a strength much clearer than the parched grumbles of the villagers, and his face sported a youthful fullness rather than the cracks of dehydration.

"We must ration our numbers," was his solution. After the chieftain returned to his hut, a group of your neighbours escorted you to the river to replenish the trough. Weeping followed you to the edge of the village before the buzzes of mosquitos and the peeps of birds muddied it, yet your chaperones chatted as loudly as their dry throats would allow as if seeking to obscure the growing presence of nature.

The trek lasted much longer than those in the past had, tiring your body and depleting what puny energy still clung to it.

When your legs could carry you no further, you collapsed against a tree stump. "Please forgive us," begged the voice of a hunter, one who had accompanied you on numerous missions. A pair of footsteps approached from the opposite direction, and the bucket was snatched from your grasp. The reality of the chieftain's decision crashed upon you in a storm of helpless terror and fury.

"Don't apologize to them," snapped the voice of a farmer. "That water would've saved my wife." Frantic grunts and wheezing strained your lungs as you fought to stand, limbs quivering like twigs and sending you tumbling across the grass. The neighbours fled to a home that was no longer yours, and the cold aura of the jungle seemed darker than any night in the village.

* * *

"Ooh," muttered Kaa, his head quivering in mock umbrage. The snake narrowed his eyes as if expressing your inner bitterness and puckered his lower lip like a child pouting after their ice cream cone splattered on a slab of hot concrete. "Man sure plays a dirty trick, doesn't he?"

The snap of a twig crushed by an immense weight broke the unusual silence of the jungle like a firecracker, and the serpent retreated to the limbs as if banished from the ground. Claiming a low-hanging branch as his refuge, Kaa spotted a lean quadruped standing at the edge of the clearing. The blue-grey aura of the moonlight cascaded down the sides of the animal, outlining the long whiskers and shaggy mane of a feline.

Dread began to blossom in the heart of the Indian Rock Python. It ballooned and drew anxieties from an environment where he had declared himself the king. Before an instinctive apology ousted his last hope for a silent escape, the lush flora that shielded its face from the silver gaze of the moon could not disguise the black fur that hugged its body. The fear that was knotting his stomach turned to anger and humiliation, and an opalescent ripple of green and blue filled his eyes.

Kaa opened them to an unnatural degree and stretched the line of his mouth into a scowl. As he neared the collection of thick leaves and sweet-smelling flowers, the shadow of the cat grew fainter until it vanished as if it were a mirage. The snake dangled for a moment, stupefied, before plunging into a frantic search of the closest bushes. A cough, nasty and raw with disdain for the frigid air that blanketed the jungle, pulled Kaa to the sight of you vying for control of your legs.

The serpent's tail plummeted from an adjacent tree and impeded your attempt at fumbling into the thick of the herbage to locate the village. "It's best not to linger, man-cub. The jungle can be rather-" his head shook with a mischievous chuckle, although the warning was relevant to both you and himself "-unfriendly at night."

* * *

The world seemed to lay just beyond the veil that cloaked your vision, but no matter how many bursts of light or fuzzy shapes teased the idea of sight, the darkness would never lift higher than the occasional memory. What little you remembered of the shape of neighbours yielded flashes of strange faces that either lacked most features or were presumed to be correct but failed to assemble an image that your mind could understand. When Kaa spoke, green and blue circles would pop throughout your vision and cease once he, often with a twinge of frustration lacing his voice, fell silent.

His scales were like a cold piece of leather beneath your fingertips, pushing against your hands when the snake ascended a new tree and during turns, would tilt just enough for your palms to brush the glass-like scales of his underside. "Are we close to the river?" The spindly trunk of Kaa made for a turbulent ride, and the memory of how grass blades, dirtied and crooked from paws much larger than your own, would hook your toes had begun to fade into an imagined tingle.

The many voices of the jungle conversed in a tongue indecipherable to your ears. Tropical birds passed different fractions of the same story through the trees and earned a variety of reactions that ranged from uproarious caws to rapid chirps, while the distant laughter of monkeys echoed over a joke unknown to you from their kingdom in the height of the foliage. Vibrations throbbed across the darkness as if a creature were sustaining a groan in the back of its throat, spilling from the abysm of a cave and provoking the animals into a raucous chorus of howls and shrieks.

"The jungle is an awfully big place," whispered Kaa, easing his coils around a lower branch and descending with caution that had been absent from the rest of the journey. "It would be most unwise to cross it without a friend to guide you."

* * *

A white mouse scurried across the branch, its snowy coat glowing against the bumpy texture of the jungle wood. The creature rubbed its head with a set of pink toes, and its nose twitched with a squeak that was imperceptible to your ears but resembled a dinner bell to the greedy Indian Rock Python, who was drooping towards his next meal.

The rodent jumped, and Kaa snapped his jaws shut around its tiny body. It wriggled inside his mouth, squeaking and squirming in a desperate attempt to free itself.

"Kaa?"

With a surprised grunt, the Indian Rock Python turned his head to meet your confused frown. Your eyebrows were crinkled, and your eyes, however ineffective they may have been, were facing his own with a degree of precision that cast a shiver along his back. A wave of embarrassment had begun to wash over his thoughts when he recalled your earlier confession.

"What is that?" you asked with palpable bewilderment, which challenged his belief in his tact until the mouse rolled with a discordant screech. It was tossing and slapping the roof of his mouth with its tail like a baby having a tantrum. The cries of the doomed animal were silenced as it descended into the belly of the snake, and Kaa allowed a look of satisfaction to cross his snout as he flicked out his forked tongue.

"Oh, nothing, man-cub."

* * *

Sliding down the body of the serpent was an uncomfortable experience. Not only had your feet been unable to touch any sort of ground for several hours, but you also had no idea how close to landing you were until your hands plunged into the river. Water splashed your face, the hum of the stream bringing a calmness to your rapid heartbeat.

"Drink up, man-cub." Kaa maintained a coil around your torso but draped the bulk of himself over a branch. The amusement in his tone was negated by the weariness, and his grip loosened every few minutes until it was not unlike a hefty blanket.

Flabbergasted muttering reverberated through the riverbank. A combination of half-spoken prayers and assurances that 'the monster' was imaginary dribbled from a man idling further down the stream. When his voice rose in awe and dismay, you identified it as belonging to the farmer.

It was as if he were gazing upon a spirit sent to torment his guilty conscience. Your eyes, clouded like the winter sky, evoked a paranoid rage in the man. Where there was only curiosity, he perceived censure and a mockery of the plight that afflicted the village.

Superstition clouded his judgement, and horror contorted his face into a deranged glare. The farmer scurried to the jungle floor, thrusting his knees into the mud and cramming dirt under his fingernails. He jumped up with a stone the size of his fist and cast it at your shoulder. "Heathen, begone! Take your curse unto death!"

The impact was akin to a log descending from a hill and whacking your side. A gash spanned the length of your upper arm, and sanguine fluid trickled onto the grass. The pain swelled and gushed as if an invisible flame were enveloping the limb, hurling you into the river. The sensation of water lapping your skin and filling your lungs was unlike any other.

A metallic stench infested the air, which attracted Kaa from his resting place in the trees. "Man-cub?" came his groggy mumble. Smacking his lips together, the Indian Rock Python surveyed the riverside and expelled a cry of alarm at the sight of you dipping below the surface. He, cloaked in darkness, had slithered to the riverbank when a rock struck his jaw.

His snout wrinkling with a whimper, Kaa pivoted towards the culprit. The farmer had yet to notice the snake and was preparing to fling another stone at you. As your blood poisoned the water and flowed in the direction of the village, the man opened his mouth to condemn your name once more. "You killed my wife-"

He had just finished the last word before a sharp object jabbed his face. Upon tumbling down, the farmer realized that a crushing weight was squeezing his neck and causing his eyes to bulge from their sockets. His arms and legs, consumed by the panic of a body scrambling for oxygen, attempted to thrash but were inhibited by a rope-like entity.

"Ah-ah, no use resisting." A low voice echoed in his mind that silenced all other noises, and a tranquil numbness, the kind that guides the exhausted to rest, began to flood his system. Despite his eagerness to cling to the rage and grief that defended him from the shame of his crimes, the memory of his wife's death began to crumble.

"I'm sorry I couldn't save-" the farmer attempted to croak out an apology, but the force around his throat tightened.

"Hush," commanded the serpent, extending the word due to his lisp. Kaa plucked you from the frigid embrace of the river and lowered you onto a patch of grass with a level of care that was not offered to the farmer. The earth tickled your cheeks, and the onset of coughs that followed encouraged Kaa to devote his full attention to the man pleading for one breath.

As blue and green waves swallowed his vision, the farmer lost his grip on the blades of grass that once encircled his fingers. The world seemed to vanish from underneath his body as if he were drifting in outer space. A knife could have slit his flesh without consequence, for an overwhelming euphoria that drained him of all awareness swamped his being.

Massive shadows that resembled tendrils in the veil of the night lifted the villager into the privacy of the overhanging foliage. A solitary leaf wafted to the ground next to your head, a guttural hiss your only indication of the life extinguished above.

[lemonlushff-iy]

War Bride

Knight Kagome

Mad Scientist

Bakery Inu/Kag (different from Petits Délices)

DT Holiday

Mail Order Husband

Virus

oh! Please! 1, 2, and 6. Can you tell us more?

@kawaiichan67​ I SWEAR I HAVE NOT FORGOTTEN!!! I was just waiting to get off work and then also get onto my computer again so I could answer this the way it deserved to be answered!!

Thank you SO SO SO much for the ask!!

In order:

1: War Bride is a fic where Inuyasha is a soldier from America in WWII, and once it’s over...he’s one of the ones occupying Japan. There, he falls in love with Kagome, and marries her, bringing her back to the states as his “war bride”. It was a very common occurrence for these men, and laws were actually made to help expedite things to make it so that soldiers could, in fact, bring these war brides home. I’ve read a few articles on it while doing research for “Not for All the Tea in China”, and I am FASCINATED by it, and really want to try my hand at that once. 

TEASER:

Inuyasha’s breath puffed out before him in the cold, December air. His joints ached as he slowly moved through the cemetery, the stone grave markers lined forming neat, tight rows. It had been a week since he had been here last. He always tried to visit once a week. 

The thought of her here alone…

He spotted his late wife’s marker and smiled. The pang in his heart was still as fresh as the day he had lost her. It still tightened painfully in his chest. His breath still hitched in his clogged throat. They said time healed all wounds…

Time couldn’t dull this pain, however. 

He set up the folding chair on her small polt as he arrived, bending down to rub the marker endearingly. The sun had warmed the stone slightly in the chill of the air, and if he closed his eyes...he could pretend that the hardness he felt under his wrinkled, weathered fingers was her soft, pliable skin. He could pretend that he cupped her cheek as she laid in their bed beside him, the way he had thousands of times before. 

“Merry Christmas, Koishii,” he greeted lovingly, his deep voice rough with age and emotion. 

The wind picked up around him - just a gentle breeze, really - but he chose to believe that she was reaching out to him too. 

“Merry Christmas, Inuyasha…” 

He longed to hear those words from her. 

“Moroha is coming by later,” he began chipperly, shoving his frail hands into his jacket pockets. “She’s bringing the boy and the kids too.”

He still “lovingly” referred to his son in law as “the boy”. It was more of a tease now - something said with a twinkle in his eye. Inuyasha might not have liked the man when he first showed up...but...Moroha was their only child. His special princess. It was something Kagome would tell him to not do, but he and “the boy” had a bit of an understanding now. 

He had seen the look in the man’s eyes when he looked at his little girl. 

It was the same one he had once had in his eye when he had first seen Kagome, back in Japan after the end of World War II. 

“Do you remember the day we met, Kagome?” he pondered aloud, knowing that he wouldn’t receive a response. Still, he asked all the same. 

He liked talking to her, even if he would never again receive a response. 

“You were working at that department store…” he began, closing his eyes, and he was transported to a different time and place. 

2: Knight Kagome is just...me toying with a concept. Inuyasha is the unwanted child of a duke Touga. Kagome is a powerful knight. He marries Inuyasha off to her (for a reason I haven’t decided on...something battley related) and the pair slowly falls in love. 

This is actually all I have for that one...

TEASER:

She was beautiful. 

He couldn’t help but sneak glances at her from under his lashes at the altar. Her wedding dress. The braids in her black hair. If her stormy blue eyes hadn’t been downtrodden, he might have believed for a moment that the smile on her face was real. 

That she actually wanted to marry him. 

But. Then again. Who would ever want to marry him. Inuyasha. Bastard half-breed son of the great duke toga Takahashi, and a maid who had caught his eye. He’s only had to rut her a few times before she’s been whelped. 

He’d never even met her. She died as he was born. She hadn’t even had the strength to look upon his face as he drew his first breath. 

The priest continued to drone on before them, and he found himself stealing another glance at her. 

So beautiful. So powerful. How the hell had his father twisted her arm into wedding him. He hadn’t heard the details. He only knew that Kagome would become his wife, and then, shortly after, she would take their place on the battlefield. As a knight and a magician, she was powerful. She hadn’t earned any titles yet, but that was sure to follow. 

He could feel the power radiating off of her, even now. Her strength. Her magic. 

He shifted his golden gaze away from her as she tilted her head ever so slightly to look at him. His breath caught in his throat and he silently tried to calm himself. 

6: Mail Order Husband...Oh. My. God. I have had this idea since HIGH SCHOOL. Kagome doesn’t have time for love. She’s lonely...but her job is her world and nothing will stand in her way of her dreams of becoming a top exec at a fashion magazine. She thinks she has it all. The looks. The apartment. The friends...but...one night after a long day of work, there’s a knock on her door...and when she answers it, she’s swept into the arms of a stranger who proceeds to kiss her. 

And tell her he’s her husband. 

Maybe she doesn’t have the friends she thought she did. 

...Or does she?

TEASER: 

Kagome sighed as she toed off her high heels, gently scooting them to the side with her foot, next to her island. She peeled out of her blazer as she walked further into her apartment, ditching it onto the closest arm chair, rubbing the back of her neck. 

God she was exhausted. And she wasn’t looking forward to tomorrow, but...that was a “future her” issue. She didn’t want to mull over work anymore right now. All she wanted was her grubhub to arrive so she could have some sushi, pour some wine, and watch the real housewives of atlanta. 

Their shit was always worlds better than her own. Their drama made her forget about her drama...and she fucking hated drama. When she was involved, of course. 

She still wanted to know 200% of it. 

Just leave her out of it. 

She meandered over to her bathroom and pulled her hair up into a loose ponytail at the top of her head, removing her jewelry. She would have completely changed, but...frankly...she knew that dinner would be arriving soon and she’d rather open the door with her bra on. 

That didn’t mean that she couldn’t get a little more comfortable first though. Try and wipe away some of the traces of her hellish day at work. 

That fucking magazine…

It was her blood. Her life. And they made her bleed for it. The deadlines were crazy, the stress insane, and her bosses even more so. Yet...she wouldn’t trade her life for anything. It was her dream job, and she had sacrificed a lot to get here. 

A social life, at times. Definitely love. 

This was what the trade off was for working at one of the most in demand, read, and famous fashion magazines in the world. 

She rolled her shoulders, before washing her face, drying it with a towel behind her. It was a bit better, but she didn’t feel refreshed. She felt exhausted, and now that the makeup was gone, she could see the bags under her blue eyes. She loved her eyes...was that conceited to say?

She didn’t know anymore after working for them. 

But she did.

They were large and round...had heard from many men before that it was like looking into the depths of an ocean and...frankly...she had to agree. They were one of her most striking features, next to her delicate features. Nose, cheekbone...brows...If she didn’t enjoy food, she had been told that she could have been a model. As it were, however, that wasn’t a path she wanted for herself anyways. 

She exited the bathroom, flicking off the light as she made her way back into her kitchen, opening the fridge door and taking out a new bottle of wine. Chardonnay. She had picked it up a few days ago, and nothing like her hell day to make her want to dip into it. 

She grabbed the corkscrew and began working it into the bottle as a knock came from her door, and she sighed in relief. 

“Sushi,” she grinned, placing the bottle onto her counter as she strode towards the door. “You have good timing!” she called out, placing her hand on the knob, turning it. “I’m famished!”

What greeted her on the other side of the door didn’t look like a grubhub man. 

Afterall. 

Grubhub brought you food.

Not suitcases. 

“Hello?” she greeted, raising her brow at the man before her. Long silver hair, nervous yet excited golden eyes...His smile was shy but endearing. 

“Kagome?” he whispered, almost as if he couldn’t believe it. 

“Yes?” she replied slowly - hesitantly. Who the hell was he and how the hell did he even know her name?

“Kagome,” he grinned widely, sweeping her into his arms, his lips planting themselves firmly on her lips. 

She squealed as he began kissing her, his hands winding into her hair, his hand gently moving to lovingly caress the small of her back. She had no idea who the hell this man was...or why the fuck he was kissing her, but she didn’t like it!

Well…

She did…

But it was creepy as fuck and she didn’t like it!

She wormed her hands between their bodies and gave him a firm push, staggering backwards into her apartment. 

“What the fuck!” she demanded, running the back of her hand against her lips, and he looked absolutely crushed. 

“W-what?”

“Who the hell are you and why the hell did you just kiss me!”

“W-who...K-kagome…”

She darted over towards the butcher block on her counter holding her knives and grabbed one as he entered  her apartment. 

“Kagome! It’s me! Inuyasha!”

“You say that like it should mean something to me,” she growled lowly, keeping her knife pointed at him. She wasn’t letting him get any closer to her if she could help it. 

If only she were closer to her phone...Then she could maybe call for help. 

“I...We’re getting married,” he breathed, his face confused. Saddened. 

“What?!” she shrieked. This guy had to have a few marbles loose. 

“Do you...Kagome Higurashi?”

“That’s my name,” she nodded. “But I’m definitely not getting married, buddy…”

“I don’t understand…” he whispered. He looked like he was on the verge of crying, and her heart softened a little. This man...Inuyasha...whoever he was...Seemed completely and totally baffled. 

“L-look. Maybe there’s another Kagome Higurashi that’s out there that you’re supposed to get married to. What...why don’t you...Shit,” she sighed. He looked so sad. He didn’t seem like a threat. He seemed as confused and befuddled as she did. She wasn’t going to put down the knife, but maybe she should take a few deep breaths and try and figure out what the hell was going on. Maybe ask him why the hell he had two large suitcases outside her apartment. 

“Why don’t you grab those and come inside,” she began again, trying to keep her words soft. They had gotten off on the wrong foot, but she was willing to start over and try and help him out. He just looked so lost...Like...A puppy. 

She could see him worrying the inside of his cheek, as he thought over her words before nodding and stepping outside to grab his suitcases. 

Why the hell did he need suitcases?

He moved to close the door but she stopped him. She would rather leave it open in case her judgement was inpaired. Frankly, it wouldn’t surprise her if it was. What was she thinking anyways?

...That there was a strange lost man who needed help...who looked absolutely devastated...and she was going to help him out. Because she was a good person. 

Fuck. 

“Why don’t you leave that open,” she voiced, and he glanced back up at her in confusion, before understanding flooded his eyes. “I have dinner on the way,” she explained, but he didn’t look like he completely believed that. 

It was true though!

God...There went her relaxing night of sushi and wine and reality tv...She could already feel it as she removed her blazer from the chair, gesturing for him to sit down. He jerkily nodded, and slumped down, trying to find the words to explain his sudden appearance. 

Her standing probably wasn’t helping to ease him much...So she reluctantly decided to sit on the couch across from him, making sure they had plenty of distance - and a coffee table - between them. 

“Why don’t you tell me who you are, and why you’re here?” she prompted softly, and he nodded his head. She watched his fingers as they began to nervously pick at his nails, and she had to bite her tongue to tell him to stop. 

“My name is Inuyasha Takahashi,” he began slowly. “And I’m here to marry a woman named Kagome Higurashi. We met online six month ago...And...I’m sorry, I just...You even look like her…” he sighed, closing his eyes. “I can’t believe this is happening…”

He leaned forward, propping his head up on his knees as the heels of his hands pressed into his eyes. 

“I should have known better,” he chuckled dryly to himself. “Twelve hours on a plan and you...she...wouldn’t even come and pick me up from the airport?”

“W-what?” she sputtered. “Who the hell is this woman?”

“You! I thought!” he replied in exasperation. “I...Do you have a computer?” he swallowed. “Maybe it will be easier if I just...Can I show you? Please…”

“Yeah. Sure! Of-of course. Hold on,” she nodded, picking up the knife and packing out of the room, keeping her front to him as she made her way into her bedroom. She had left it on her nightstand last night, and now would be the perfect time to grave her phone too. 

Just in case. 

She had left it in the bathroom when she was washing her face, and when she grabbed it off the white and black marbled counter, she was surprised to see a littony of missed phone calls from her friends. Eri, Yuka, Yumi...What the hell did they want?

She shook her head and decided to table that for another time. 

She was already having a hell of a night. She really didn’t want to add their issues to it too. 

She left her bedroom, laptop, phone and knife in hand, and found he hadn’t left his spot. His eyes were red, and glossy, and it made her heart ache for him a little. He seemed so sweet and genuine…

“Here,” she offered, handing him her computer. 

He mumbled out his thanks, opening it and scrolling and typing away. When he was done, he handed the computer back to her, and she was flabbergasted. 

He had taken her to...what appeared to be...A website for mail order husbands?! She didn’t even know that was a thing!

“Kagome and I met about six months ago and it was…” he smiled wistfully. “I felt a connection to her almost instantly. You can...read through everything,” he blushed sweetly, and she absently found herself thinking how precious he looked. “I asked her a few months back if she...would like to move forward with an agreement, and she accepted. We were supposed to be getting married this week,” he whispered, looking down at his hands clasped between his knees. 

“Inuyasha...I…”

“Please,” he insisted. “There are photos that we exchanged,” he blushed. “And she...she looked just like you.”

She swallowed and nodded, her fingers scrolling through the exchange of messages...and she was stunned. 

Everything he had told her appeared to be true. He had been in touch with a Kagome Higurashi...He had agreed to come to New York to be with her...And the bitch had stolen photos of her. 

“Oh my God,” she breathed, and he winced. “I...I know when all of these photos were taken...My brother’s birthday...Pool party with Eri...Weekend away with Yuka…”

Wait. 

No. 

No.

Her heart was racing as an absolutely absurd idea struck her. 

Her friends wouldn’t have...Couldn’t have…

She scrolled up further and found a picture of the four of them at her birthday. 

The pictures. The missed phone calls. 

Please. 

Dear god let her be wrong…

Her phone started ringing again, startling them both. 

Eri...

[jonspurpleskirt]

Perks of Beholding

Summary: Jon gets distracted from paranoia by learning he can now understand animals. This somehow solves all their problems. Or: Jon turns into a Disney princess the fic.

No Warnings apply. It’s just fluff. Heavily inspired by this lovely TMA comic:  ___

It started with the Admiral. Jon was about to read the first statement his mysterious benefactor had sent when he heard a small "Jon!" from the kitchen. It had a strange, rumbling undertone to it and sounded as though a human was trying to imitate a cat.

Jon startled so hard at the unfamiliar voice that he send the papers he had in his hands flying. Instinctively grabbing the tape recorder he sprung up.

"Who's there!"

The Admiral came out of the kitchen, rubbing against the doorframe and purring. "Jon! It's time for a midday snack."

Jon blinked hard, wondering if he had lost his mind entirely, while a much louder voice was screeching in delight.

"Admiral! I can understand you!"

"Give me food Jon, I beg of you. I'm famished."

The Admiral jumped up on his lap, claws snagging on the worm hole riddled arm. It should have already been healed, but Jon continued picking on it.

"Ah..ha. Careful please. I'm damaged goods."

"My apologies. Now food and then cuddles? I crave attention."

Statement forgotten Jon spend the rest of the afternoon debating with Georgies cat about the pros and cons of feeding the Admiral without Georgies consent, sneaking snacks anyway and cuddling on the couch.

To say that Georgie was bemused when she got home was an understatement. "You can speak cat now. Are you shitting me?"

"No. It's amazing! Georgie this might be the only good thing to have happened to me in years!"

Georgie rolled his eyes, grinning. "Don't be so dramatic. So what? Are cats really planning to overthrow us lowly humans? What is he saying?"

"I'm pretty sure he wouldn't tell me if that was the case. Admiral is there anything you'd like to say to Georgie?"

The Admiral, who hadn't budged from Jons chest since after he had been fed was staring straight at him. "Tell her I love her."

Jon turned to Georgie with the most serious face she had ever seen on him. "He wants you to know that he loves you." He announced gravely. And then, after a short pause. "But he loves me more."

"I didn't say that."

"He didn't say that!"

"No, but I know."

The Admiral bit at his finger and then immediately licked the raw skin as an apology. "Unruly kitten."

"I'm not a kitten!"

"You know I'm not sure if the noises you make are cute or creepy."

~~~

His language comprehension skills didn't only focus on cat speak, Jon found out soon after. He had been brave enough to step out of Georgies flat to go for a quick walk (and buy some cat food that Georgie refused to get for the Admiral), when a voice from above cooed at him.

"So shiny!"

Jon froze at the croaky exclamation, scanning his environment and trying not to panic. There was no police nearby. Which was good. But also bad if this was going to turn out to be a robbery. There weren't any people around at all, actually. Jon had gone out at an ungodly hour as to avoid big crowds and thus being seen.

The only being he could make out was a crow perched atop a lantern, gazing down at him. Jon pointed at himself. "Are you speaking to me?"

The crow tilted its head. "It would seem so, human."

"Oh. What is it that you find so shiny?"

It considered his question for a moment, then flew down. Jon flinched when the bird landed on his shoulder, a sharp beak tapping the hair clasp Jon had used to keep his mess of a hair out of his face.

"This. I'd like to have it."

Jon itched to stroke the black feathers that caressed his cheek. A childish excitement that he hadn't felt since uni thrumming in his chest.

"You can have it. Just let me take it out first."

The crow hopped on his other shoulder, nibbling at his scarf while Jon gently untangled the clasp from his locks, careful not to jostle his new friend too much.

"There we go. Here."

"Thank you. This kindness will not be forgotten."

Jon watched the bird fly off with his possession and wished his human encounters could go so smoothly.

Word did get around fast that he was a friend of corvids and provider of shiny things. Wherever he went at least two or three crows or ravens would appear within minutes chatting him up. Most of his spare change went to them and soon he found himself buying little trinkets for them to carry off.

In the weeks that followed Jon got out more and more, keeping to parks at unreasonable hours, driven to converse with all kinds of wildlife. He hadn't touched most of the statements he had been send, too fixated on the new, harmless ability he had been granted. This had improved Georgies and his relationship immensely. She had been worried that he would obsess over who could have murdered Leitner. Him going out and talking to various animals might not have been any less strange, but at least it felt harmless enough to her that she left him to it, sometimes even tagging along.

Jon had always felt it easier to communicate with animals. And this didn't change with his new ability. Interactions were simple and their stories were interesting, with a perspective foreign enough to catch his interest. Animals viewed the world rather differently, had different priorities and had less behavioral rules that Jon could mess up.

And they weren't shy to seek out his touch once they got to know him. More often than not these days Georgie would find him with a squirrel draped around his neck, a bird pulling his hair or a cat in his arms. He had even tried to talk to some insects once, but told Georgie with a look of disappointment that they didn't have the mind for idle chatter.

Like humans not every animal was friendly or even a good conversationalist. There was a white and grey pigeon nesting close to Georgies flat, who made for dreadful smalltalk and couldn't hold a thought to save its life. And Clara the sparrow loved to spew a litany of curse words at him, because she found they sounded funny.

In the end, however, his curiousity to learn more about his abilities led him to check out more of the statements and eventually, try and contact Jude Perry. They met in a quaint little café, opting to sit outside because of Judes flamability and Jons want to have a better chance of escape should anything go wrong.

Jon didn't shake Judes hand when she first asked. But after her statement and her willingness to give him the contact of an acquaintance he felt he had to. He reached out to take her hand when a crow dived down and crashed between the two. The ball of black feathers shook itself and snapped sharply at Jons hand.

"What do you think you are doing you lanky idiot! Do you not have any instincts left in your body! What are you?! A fledgling? Shame on you! You nearly gave us a heart attack!"

"I'm sorry, but you really should fly away. Your feathers are beginning to sizzle- Ow!"

The crow had squawked at him in a rather unbecoming manner for such a lovely lady, but had heeded his warning and flown onto his shoulder, opting to snap at his ear and pull it to get him to leave the firey lady, cussing him out all the while.

"I get it, I get it! Please stop assaulting my ear."

"What."

Momentarily having forgotten his audience in order to get the furious crow out of his hair, Jon send Jude an apologetic smile.

"Sorry. Marah seems to be quite against me shaking your hand. Ow. Would you stop that I'm not doing anything!"

"You can speak with animals?" Not even Jude - I'll burn everything you love to the ground - Perry seemed to be immune to the craziness of the situation. Her grin had turned from feral to amused. The air around her had gotten colder as well.

"Ah, yes. Wasn't Gertrude also able to do so?"

Jon had finally been able to get Marah out of his hair and was cradling her against his chest, patting down her ruffled feathers and let her play with the shiny decorative coins that hung from his scarf.

"I don't think I've ever seen her doing that. But then everyone Becomes differently."

"Becomes? Ah... right sorry, no further questions. I... I guess I've always had more interest in animals then humans. Could that... I mean that could be the reason."

"Could." She echoed him, eyes fixed on the crow nestled in his arms.

A flutter of wings made both of them look up and startle at the sight of dozens of black birds perched along the roofs staring down at them.

"Did you call them?" She hissed.

"No. It's not like I can control them. I occasionally give them stuff? And they make great conversation partners. I guess they're just pretty protective of me?"

"Fledgling." Marah huffed, winding one of his long locks around her beak and tugging.

"Ow. They call me fledgling for some reason."

Jude snorted into her boiling coffee. "Yeah that checks out." Her gaze skimmed the dark wall of feathers above them. People around them had become uncomfortable as well, hurrying to get out of the area. The waiter was giving them nervous glances, too.

"If it would ease your mind I doubt they'll try to attack you if you play nice?"

"You sound awfully unsure of that."

Jon shrugged as best as he could without jostling Marah too much. "I'm still not sure how all of this works. That's why I'm looking for other avatars."

Jude shook her head and laughed. "A Watcher not Knowing something. The world never ceases to surprise me." She took out her phone, which had a cracked display, the plastic scorched where her fingers touched, but miraculously was still functioning. "Give me your number I'll forward you some of my contacts."

"Thank you!"

"Don't. You'll pay me in cute pet pictures. Once weekly."

Jon smiled, that sounded like a much better price to pay than a scorched hand. "I'll do that. Any favourites?"

"Owls." Jude said without hesitation, then blinked and scowled at him. "You'll have to get a grip on that if you don't want Mike to throw you out the window."

"I'm sorry. I really don't mean to do... whatever I'm doing."

"Watch your wording then. Don't ask questions or whatever."

Jon sighed, holding out his phone for her to copy his number. "Right."

He bought Marah her favourite pastry as a thank you for saving him and promised to get her that pretty ring she had seen. It was quite expensive, but Jon thought it was worth it.

~~~

Jon was a bundle of frayed nerves when he went to visit Mike Crew. They had written back and forth a bit over the days and no matter how much Jon tried to coax Mike into meeting him somewhere more open the Avatar of the Vast never budged.

So here he was, sans crow support, knocking on the door of a serial killer. The young man that welcomed him in was only shorter than him by maybe an inch or two. He had donned a fake smile and was asking if he wanted some tea.

Jon didn't. He had a set of questions, hungered for Mikes statement. But Judes warning stopped him from immediately going for it. Drinking bland tea he didn't want was probably the better alternative to being thrown out a window. Not that that was still a very real possibility afterwards.

"I'd love to. Thank you."

Mike seemed surprised that he had taken him up on the offer. "Huh. Well then. Come in. I only have Lavender and Peppermint, any preferences?"

Jon tried to distract himself from the very obvious scar on Mikes neck by taking in the spacious flat he had just entered. "Peppermint sounds nice."

"Peppermint it is, then."

Jon trailed after him into the kitchen, a bit lost on what the etiquette was when being a first time guest. Was he supposed to wait somewhere? Go to the couch? Was he even allowed to take a seat before being told?

At least he had gotten better at small talk. True Mike Crew wasn't an animal, but Jon had found out that being nice was actually well received by humans and avatars alike. (What a shocker.)

"You have a lovely apartment."

Mike shot him what looked like a genuine grin. "Thank you! A gift from Simon. He's taking good care of all the new Vast avatars. Tends to try and adopt them, but I quite like my autonomy and the family parties he throws are dreadful."

Jon couldn't help but pout. The terminology didn't confuse him as much anymore. Jude had deigned to explain that to him via text, with a lot of gloating and bad puns. "I wish the Eye would be so welcoming. I swear for an entity that's all about knowing it doesn't tell me shit."

"Tough. You sure you work for the Eye and not the Web? Here. Come on don't just stand there like a bean pole the couch is a perfectly good place to sit."

"Good lord I hope so. I hate spiders."

"Cheers to that."

Not asking questions was hard. Jon was an impatient man, endlessly curious. And something within him craved Mikes statement. He opted to be honest with Mike about that, telling him without turning it into a burning question and the Avatar nodded in understanding.

"Alright I'll tell you my story then. Because you were nice enough not to ask and we short people should work together."

Jon hadn't been prepared for the sad tale that had been Mikes life. It seemed that he had only been able to somewhat settle down in the last few years. Being on the run for so long, Jon could only imagine what it did to a persons mind. He was only being wanted for murder for a bit now and the stress and paranoia was already killing him.

"Huh." Mike blinked when he was done, tea gone cold in his hands. "That was actually pretty therapeutic. I'm not opposed to doing this again."

They talked idly for a while after, Mike far less aggressive in his attitude than Jude, although he did lightly threaten him once or twice and gave him a horrible case of vertigo when Jon accidently insulted his taste in books.

Their conversation was interrupted by a knock on the door and Mikes eyes narrowed. "I thought we agreed you'd come alone."

"I did." Jon defended himself, fear easily flooding back into his body.

They both stood and carefully inched towards the door. Just as Mike was about to open it, mouth already open to scold whoever had dared to interrupt him, a chorus of loud hisses, meows and a surprised shout made them freeze.

"Jon! A Hunter is here! We've got her handled. Run!"

Not thinking Jon snatched Mikes wrist and pulled him away from the entrance to the flat. The floor underneath him seemed to give way, but Mike at least hadn't fully thrown him into his domain. He dragged them both deeper into the flat. "Shit that's Tonner."

"Who?"

"The police. I ah... might be wanted for murder at the moment. I thought I've been descreet enough. But apparently not. Sorry."

He didn't like that Mikes eyes gleamed with a newfound respect after hearing that. "Oh yeah. I forgot that murder was illegal for a moment. Who did you kill?"

"I didn't." Jon scowled. "I was framed. It was Jurgen Leitner."

"Leitner?!"

"Hmhm. Turns out he was hiding below the institute the whole time. Honestly he was a rather pathetic old man."

Mike tsked. "Good riddance."

"Quite."

Mike eyed the window as the cursing from outside continued. They both flinched when there was a gunshot. Jon lurched forward, running towards the sound, only to be harshly janked back with surprising force. "What the fuck are you doing?!"

"She's shooting the cats! I need to save them!" There might have been a bit of static in his voice, fueled by the panic.

An inhuman growl came from outside and a layered voice shouting "Stay back!".

"That's a Hunter out there!"

Jon only let out a pathetic whine. His cats. He couldn't leave his cats! But the arm around his waist didn't let him go. Mike cursed behind him.

"You're crazy. And weird. You owe me for this."

"I can pay in cute animal pictures."

Mike snorted and let Jon go, leaving him to open the door. As soon as Daisy was in sight there was a loud Pop and a yelp, then she was gone. Jon knelt down in the mass of hissing fur, hands stroking over every body he could find, frantically looking for injuries on any of his babies. They came to him immediately, butting against his hands, chanting "Jon!" and started to purr up a storm.

"I think she just fired a warning shot." Mike mused, pointing towards the ceiling.

Jon heaved a huge sigh. "Oh thank god."

Mike tilted his head at the strange display before him. "Are those free of fleas?"

"Of course! They all are perfectly well behaved, clean angels."

Mike rolled his eyes. "Cool. They can come in then. I'm sure they just saved both of our lifes. Might as well reward them a bit."

And that was how Jon joined an impromptu sleepover at a supernatural serial killers flat, drowned in cats and delightfully tipsy, because Mike insisted on drinking to not dying.

The next morning greeted them with more knocking, which was nearly drowned out by the screams of the cats begging for food. Mike shot him a tired look.

"I deal with the cats. You open the door. You only presumably killed one guy. I'm sure they won't shoot you on sight."

Jon really didn't think that logic was sound, but decided against arguing with Mike, who turned out to not be a morning person at all. Some of the cats came with him as he greeted Basira, who frowned at his entourage.

"I didn't know Mike Crew was secretly a cat lady."

"Ah no, that would be me."

"Right. That sounds more believable. I just came by to let you know that you're in the clear. Elias Bouchard is the murderer. We have evidence now."

"Cool." Came the nonplussed reply from behind Jon.

Both avatars (could Jon count himself as an avatar at this point?) stared the police woman down. Jon unsure how to either continue or end the conversation and Mike probably trying to glare her to death. By the looks of it Basira had suddenly developed a very bad case of vertigo.

She stood her ground, though, clearing her throat and staring right back. "Would you know where Daisy is? She came her to investigate yesterday and I didn't hear from her since."

Mike giggled, Jon sighed and the cats purred in triumph, looking smug. This did not reassure Basira in the slightest.

"Your feral mutt was making a racket outside my flat, Officer."

"She was shooting at the cats." Jon was still upset about that, bending down to cradle one of them against his chest. The good boy immediately began licking his chin to soothe him.

Basira just about held herself back from snarling at them, keeping her cold, professional mask in place. "And where is she now?"

Jon glanced over to Mike in question. The Avatar of the Vast grinned. "Enjoying a long skydiving trip!"

"I'd like to have her back, please. We'll need her to confront Elias."

"We?"

Basira shot him a glare. "Yes." There was no room for arguement there.

Jons shoulders slumped and Mike patted his head in faux sympathy. There was a scream from outside.

"There. Done. See you around Archivist. Send pictures not Cops."

"If I survive this." Jon grumbled, the cats trailing behind him as he left with officer Hussain.

Daisy met them halfway down the stairs and nearly lunged at Jon. Basira took the whole car ride to calm her down. A task that was made even harder by Jon, who was unconsciously bristling with static, still very much furious about Daisy trying to harm his babies. No matter how many times either of the women explained that they would never and that Daisy hadn't aimed at any of them, Jon could not be calmed. This was the only reason why Basira allowed him to take a huge orange tabby into the car.

Really.