#they do cause damage to me though the bread is always rough

[inventors-fair]

From Text to Title Commentary

This contest went a little haywire, and I’m not super certain why.

The basics of this contest were simple: make a card based on a mechanic. I said mechanic instead of ability or keyword because some stuff isn’t quite either. Devotion and Party are just sort of counting tools, and ability words aren’t even rules text. But some people took it a very strange direction. I thought it was pretty clear what counted, and there were plenty of things that very obviously counted, but people just kept asking about other things. While I understand that that is part of the brainstorming process, and you might come up with a cool idea and then not know if it works or not, I really wish you would have just assumed the answer was no and work on something you know would have counted. Why make a card called “Hybrid Mana” when you could just make a card out of any of the dozens of existing mechanics? It felt like you were trying to be unique at best, and purposely trying to mess with me at worst. But how uniquely you answer the prompt isn't important. What’s more important is that the card itself is good, or even clever. The prompt are just that: prompts. I am not challenging you to answer the prompt most creatively, I’m asking you to make a creative card that fits within the prompt. That was the important part.

Which gets me to the next thing. I specifically didn’t want players using the ability on the card. Part of that was just because it would be too easy, but part of that was because I wanted to see you guys get creative. What are some other ways to represent trampling? What else can life be linked to? I didn’t want to say that they could have nothing to do with it, because that’s hard. Would a metalcraft card that mentions artifacts at all count? But I think the point was still clear: I wanted to see cards that had nothing to do with their originator. Sadly, I got a lot of those. Some spelled out the ability. A lot were enablers: a bloodthirst card that dealt damage once a turn for creatures, a card named constellation that makes enchantment tokens, etc. I really wanted to see stuff completely different, and I don’t think I got that across. For that, I apologize. I should have been clearer about that, or put it in the mandatory section instead of the encouraged section.

Sorry for the downer. This was a rough week. Hopefully my commentary form here on out doesn’t sound too bitter. But here it is:

@azathoth-the-bored​ - Decayed

So while I specifically said that you’re not allowed to use the mechanic on the card, I also said I didn’t want you to just spell it out, as you did here. This gives the enchanted creature decayed, just not literally. If you had removed that and just had the last ability, I think this maybe would have been a fine uncommon as a slow removal spell.

@bread-into-toast​ - Daybound

Alright, you got me. Technically, this does not have the ability daybound. It just interacts with the day and night cycle, just like daybound does. While that’s allowed, it’s not really what I was asking for. I wanted to see a new interpretation of the ability, completely unconstrained from the originator. So, faire-wise, I’m disappointed with it. As for the card itself, I think it coils use work. The fact that it can’t transform no matter what feels like a strange restriction. A lot of the creatures are better on their night side, including abilities, so you might end up sealing a creature on their more powerful side, and when it turns to day, they will end up buffing their team better, even though they can’t attack. If you seal them on their day side, then they just attack worse at night, which I guess is fine. The fact that it can hit planeswalkers is just so weird. There’s only about 10 planeswalkers that can attack, only 2 that can transform, and only 1 that does both. Why even put it on there? It’s just going to confuse players who might expect it to stop them from activating. If it just said “permanent” I’d be fine, because then it could hit Westvale Abbey, or Poppet Factory, stuff where the transforming is a bigger deal than the attacking. What you ended up with is a card that is just trying too hard to fit a very specific role, and I think you’re worse off for it.

@decayingbooks​ - Fortify

I don’t think this card is as good as you think this is. I do like that it can be used defensively and “offensively,” but both of those options aren’t particularly good. If you target yourself, that’s a very small amount of benefit for four mana. To Arms does the same thing for two mana and draws you a card. If you target your opponent, it’s a fog that leaves your opponents creatures untapped. The utility of a card that does both is not worth the mana cost. This card could be one mana, and I still don’t know how often it would be played. I love the flavor though, and it’s a good way to make a card using the name fortify. NOTE: I wrote that all before you updated your submission to change it to a sorcery. Yes, it makes more sense, but it loses half of its utility, and becomes a far worse card. I think you needed to look at cards that already exist to get an idea for how to cost your cards or what players would want to play. Flavor is good, but it’s more important to make a well-designed card.

@deg99 - Dethrone

This card has a lot going on, and I think you could have toned it down a touch. The center ability is the main thing here: kill something and its controller loses life. A time-old tradition, and probably fitting at 5 mana. The fact that it gets super cheap targeting something the monarch owns is also cool! It fits the theme, and now you get their best blocker out of the way, amking it even easier to get the monarchy from them! Except then you become the monarch anyway. I think the top and bottom ability are detracting from each other. The top part punishes a player for sitting on the monarchy by making it easier for you to target them, which is good! The bottom part is just sort of insult to injury. It removes the coolest part about the monarch: the interaction among players. Most cards that grant monarchy in some way protect you, giving your opponents something they have to team up to fight through. This one sort of protects you, but is clearly made to be more aggressive, which doesn’t work well with the monarchy mechanic. Lastly, the flavor text I think kind of goes against the rest of the card. Regicide kills a creature, despite in theory killing a king. Queen Marchesa makes you the monarch, even though she is technically one. When I read this card without flavor text,I completely understood that I was killing a monarch, then becoming one. The flavor text muddies that by claming the thing you killed isn’t the monarch, and while that is technically true, it doesn’t match the flavor as well.

@demimonde-semigoddess​ - Escalate

What a weird little card! The name fits the first ability, that’s for sure. At first I wasn’t sure if that was just worse than a copy spell, but the second ability changes that for sure. It goes from a weird combo card to something you can just sort of play for free that maybe has a bonus bit of text. While I get the desire there, since it feels bad to have such a narrow card, I think the player playing this card WANTS it to be bad. If you see this card as a johnny or a timmy, you think of how cool that first ability is and just kind of ignore the last part. Other players will play it as just a normal tormenting voice with maybe some utility if you happen to have an X somewhere. The fact that there’s two completely different abilities means I can’t figure out which is the reason to play this and which is the extra part. That first ability does have some issues in and of itself, though. I don’t like that it’s a flat bonus. I wish it either doubled or reduced the cost or added mana. Currently, you can just cast a spell with X=0 and get three free bonus out of it. While that is sort of the point of this card, it’s freeness is a little scary. Mostly when you get to things with multiple Xs. This lets you deal 15 damage for two mana with Crackle with Power, or make a bunch of hydras with Hydra Broodmaster for 1 mana. If this card was more clearly focused on the X part, maybe just being a cantrip at one mana, I think I’d be more okay with it. If it doubled X, then at least you’d have to sink something into it. Also, I’m not sure if it’s just a typo, but so far as I know, this works with X costs that are not mana. I believe that it would affect cards like Chatterfang and Storage Lands, which could cause some problems. I also don’t know if it would affect things like Devastating Summons or Firecat Blitz’s flashback, where there’s an X in the cost, sort of. Last thing I’ll point out is you don’t need to phrase it like you did. Unbound Flourishing does almost exactly what you want, just with doubling instead of adding, but it still makes it clear you can change X with the spell or ability on the stack, not “as it resolves.” Sorry if I sound harsh, I just wish you would have committed to this being a combo card so it would feel like a fair trade-off for the amount of power it offered, or that you reduced its impact so that the X part can feel more like a bonus than the focus.

@dimestoretajic​ - Living Weapon

This is a strange one. First, it’s got a triple colorless mana cost. We’ve never seen a card with one of those, even 2 is reserved only for a 10 mana spell, therefore being only a fifth of its cost. But I can see why, mostly. Artifact creatures can be dumped onto the board extremely quickly, so you want a fairly restrictive cost. Even so, it being such a small creature kind of makes the restrictive cost feel even less worth it. You really need a board of creatures in play for this to be good, and it’s hard to know if this is ever better than just a chief of the foundry, who pumps toughness as well and is always castable. In eternal formats, though, this card could be a beast. The legendary clause is kind of what holds it back there, though. Again, you normally want to dump your hand, so the fact that you can’t play two of these if you have them in hand is a bit aggravating. Lastly, there’s that tap ability. Why is it there? Thematically it doesn’t seem to fit at all with the concept of a living weapon. Mechanically, it doesn’t seem to fit with the type of deck you’d want to pay this in. If you want to give your entire board of creatures double strike, you’re usually doing it because you have a lot of small creatures that want to attack. Having to tap them and him for mana goes against that strategy, and what are you even casting with that mana in a deck like that? The other thing it does is give a spell or two pseudo-affinity, which just seems unnecessary. Would a deck play this for just that ability and ignore the double-strike stuff? It all just seems so odd.Still, this is one of the better entries this week. It’s got some issues, but I like how it knows exactly what it’s here for and is very good at it, as well as working with the name. It’s just tacking a bit too much on top of that.

@fractured-infinity​ - Constellation

I think you’re overestimating this card. This is a 5 mana card that requires an extra three mana to do anything. Yes, it doubles itself every turn, but those copies don’t do anything other than trigger constellation. That’s good in a constellation deck, but this is a card that’s ONLY good in a constellation deck. If I play this and survive three turns and have 8 of these in play, there’s no way I’ll be able to activate them reasonably effectively. The flavor of this card is also tied too closely to the mechanic. None of this quite feels space like, or like I’m connecting things like constellations connect stars. I would suggest trying to find some other way to make it useful without the ability, or limit the number of tokens it makes but make the whole card cheaper. Right now it’s just too narrow and hard to use, and even the deck that wants it may be dead by the time it really starts being useful.

@ghoulcalculator64 - Banding

Ah, I see. It’s a rubber band joke. Fair enough. I think this card is not good. Four mana is a lot for this small of an effect. Yes, icy manipulator is a famously strong card, but Pacification array was not (though it had a lot of utility because of improvise being in the set). Two mana to tap each turn is a lot, and the fact that this doesn’t have a body like Fan Bearer or Gavony Trapper is a heavy cost already. I think you needed to do a little more research into what other cards of this type existed when making this.

@gollumni​ - Grandeur

Well this is a bit of a dud. It’s very hard to find a good way to use this card. It’s a fog, but what isn’t? It lets you get in one hit with one creature for sure, but at the cost of not getting to hit with anything else, and not being able to block anything for a while. The exact templating of this card has some minor issue, but I do want to point out you were clever not to make it target, so they can’t kill the targetted creature in response. Instead, you choose upon resolution. It’s a bit of a shame you HAVE to choose something, meaning you can’t just use this as a fog when you’ve got nothing in play, but maybe that’s for the best. Better to avoid turbo-fog making a resurgence. The last sentence also sounds a little off. Looking at Duneblast, I might just say “tap the rest.” I also really wish there were some way to not make this rare, but this would probably be an annoyance even at uncommon, so maybe it’s necessary.

@helloijustreadyourpost​ - Fateseal

Cool idea, execution is a bit off. One mana removal spells, even slow ones like this, are probably too good, especially at common. I could maybe see a card like this being pushed in a set where they really want playable enchantments, like a set with delirium or constellation. I know the big downside is that they still get a chance to swing with the creature before it dies, but I don’t think that offsets the massive upside of being an unconditional one mana kill spell. Conceptually, I like it. It’s definitely the complexity level of an uncommon, and the flavor is spot on. I think the fact that it triggers on your upkeep is mechanically a good idea, but a little awkward because a lot of people will assume it cares about the creature’s controller’s upkeep, like most similar cards. That’s not really on you, though, and if the rest of the set doesn’t do that, it’s fine. I could almost see changing it to grant the creature “sac this in your end step” instead. However, if the set has death synergies, that might matter, too. I guess this card is hard to judge because I could see it doing a lot of work in a theoretical set, but outside of any set, it’s just way too good. I like it, though, and it’s a great fit for this week, it’s just too strong.

@hiygamer​ - Hidden Agenda

I like the concept here, but I think you maybe underestimated it. The most obvious comparison here is Profane Tutor and Wishclaw Talisman. Both get you your cards a little later, but with some downsides compared to this Hidden Agenda. Being better than the two most recently printed tutors is a pretty big sign you’re maybe too strong. The exact phrasing also lets you pay the one during your opponents turn, so you can have the card in hand by the time you untap. Flavor-wise, I think it works. It does feel like you’re up to something, and you’ve got it hidden away, but I kind of wish it could be MORE hidden some way. Right now it feels a lot less like its hidden and more like it’s just in your hand but costs 1 more. But that’s getting nitpicky. It still feels like a good fit of card and name, which is the focus of this contest. I just think you could have pumped the brakes a little more, either making a more expensive tutor or a more hidden card.

@hypexion​ - Will of the Council

I was certain someone would do this. William of the Council. Bravo. But why does he have to do with voting? Surely there are other councils than Paliano’s. For this week specifically, I would have really wished you kept further away form voting. Yes, this doesn’t have Will of the Council, but it cares about it. Anyway, the card itself? I like it. I think the last ability is really cool, and adds some wrinkles to time when everybody is already agreeing on how they’re going to vote. You can also do some silly things where you purposely vote a certain way to get a bunch of treasures or get the result you actually wanted. I also like how playing him encourages you to be t he good guy: you want to make sure other people want what you want. That’s a cool way to build a deck. The first ability messes with all of that, though. First, there’s a lot of math. There 5 permanent types you’d have to count every time you vote, with the number of artifacts changing after each one. Lands would be the tough one, but creatures would be annoying, too. In a conspiracy draft, there’s also probably be some confusion to if conspiracies count, or Tribal, or Snow. Then there’s how it messes with the second ability. As soon as you get one extra vote, all of the fun of the second ability goes away. Most votes only have two options, so you just get to pick both. You were clever with the name and clever with the ability, but maybe a little too ambitious with the card itself.

@i-am-the-one-who-wololoes​ - Haunt

This card is a little weird. Flavor wise, I mostly like it. I like that the spirit is the same size but behaves differently than its originator. The name feels a bit mismatched, since this is less haunting something and more letting something else do the haunting. I would expect some sort of spirit to haunt the creature, not for it to die and come back to haunt others. As for the card itself, it’s not as good as it looks. For reference, Undying Evil, Supernatural Stamina, and malakir rebirth are all one mana. This is three mana to make a token that is almost strictly worse. It loses abilities, has to attack and block, but at least it has vigilance? I don’t understand the flavor of those abilities, either. Is it just an aggressive spirit? I would have expected it to have gained flying, but without it I don’t understand what exactly this spirit is. I keep thinking I’m missing something, but as I see it, this card is just not quite there on mechanics or flavor.

@kellylogs​ - Vigilance

It’s been a while since we’ve seen a card like this, but I remember the time when Mardu Ascendency, launch the fleet, and similar effects were all the rage. I like how this one specifically doesn’t create the token tapped and attacking. It sort of sells the flavor that they are leaving someone back in order to stay vigilant. I think this card is fine, but I have one giant issue: why did you specify “taps to attack?” All that does is make this card say “whenever a creature without vigilance attacks, make a token.” I know I said you’re not allowed to use the ability on the card, but specifically not using it feels even weirder. If it didn’t say that, I would feel perfectly fine with this card, maybe even make it a runner-up, but the “taps” part in there makes it clear that you didn’t feel confident enough in the design, and though you needed some way to tie the card back into the ability, something I specifically said I wasn’t looking for.

@loreholdlesbian​ - Encore

What a show this is. I like this card, but it’s very hard to judge. In some formats, this would be a powerhouse. Four mana for an extra turn with some extra cards is a great rate, and the lose clause is not nothing, but might be ignorable. Otherwise, though, this card could be a bulk mythic. We’ve seen two similar cards in the last few years, it’s hard to know what the rate on this card would be in this day and age. I’ll say what I can: this is a really cool concept and a really great way to answer the prompt. I just am so scared of extra turns in this day and age, what with the prevalence of them in recent years. Yes, this loses you the game, but is that enough? I just don’t know. I’m sorry, I wish I could help more. I like this card, I just am failing a bit as a judge right now.

@maispace​ - Bloodthirst

I think you came at this challenge from the wrong direction. It seems like you started by thinking of the ability of bloodthirst, then made a card around it. This is an enchantment that basically makes it so you always get your bloodthirst triggers. I don’t really understand how the card itself is bloodthirst. Is the idea that the creature spells are bloodthirsty? And so when you cast them, they’re “going for blood,” dealing damage? I don’t quite get the flavor. What the card does, though seems cool. It’s effectively damage that ramps up every turn. I like how it messes with strategies. Normally in aggressive red decks where you want to be playing burn like this, you also want to be playing a lot of low-cost creatures. But this card wants you to just play one creature a turn in order to get max value from it. I like that this sort of encourages a different type of aggro deck: one where you’re trying to tap out for big creatures every turn. Or maybe playing flash creatures? Or maybe you have a lot of activated abilities, so you can still use your mana? There’s a lot of cool, unique ways to take advantage of this card, and it might be worth it. If you trigger it at least three times, you get 6 points of burn for 3 mana, which is good! Feels a little odd at uncommon, but I could see this being a lame rare. I would just hope there’s enough enchantment removal in the set that this wouldn’t just be that oppressive. Even one damage a turn can add up in limited.

@mardu-lesbian​ - Improvise

Oh my. First, the flavor mostly works. I get that you’re sort of doing what you can with what you have, regardless of its utility. It’s a little odd that it doesn’t do things with your hand and is stead almost sort of reanimatey, but I think that’s a fine stretch to make the mechanics work without being too wordy. As for the ability, oh boy! It is very easy for this card to kill someone. I could easily see a combo deck forming from this. The random part I both like and dislike. I like it because it gives you a need to build around: you can’t just put the one big card you need in there to combo off, you’d need some way to partially empty your own graveyard to ensure it works. I also don’t like it because if you don’t keep your graveyard clean, you still have a chance of it woking anyway, meaning whether you win or lose is basically decided randomly, which is not super fun. Another strange quirk of this card is that it can actually be used relatively fairly. In a modern blitz deck, you probably won’t get more than one or two power out of it (maybe three if you’re playing those spectacle cards), but just being a spell that grants trample and maybe a bit of power is really all they need. This card being at common feels really strange as well. It’s a little bit complex of a card, in that it requires paying very close attention to the board state and also your graveyard, and needing to randomize it. While that might be fine, the swinginess of it would get tiresome in limited. It’d be pretty easy to get to the point where you have every mana value from 1 to 5 in your graveyard and your opponent is at 4 and, again, whether you win or lose the game comes down to randomness. I really like the idea of this card, but I wish it was a little less randomized.

@martianjune​ - Evolve

Evolving is the idea of growing and adapting to circumstances, and this catches that flavor, but maybe has one too many effects. Adding a counter is a nice base line, and growing when dealt damage is great flavor, and fighting works with the damage part and kind of works to represent evolving to adapt. But as a whole the card gets a little messy. The biggest issue is it’s not clear whether you fight when it’s dealt damage or when you cast the spell. I think you’d want to grant the creature the ability. Perhaps: “Put a +1/+1 counter on target creature you control. Until end of turn, that creature gains ‘whenever this creature is dealt damage, put a +1/+1 counter on it.’ Then it fights target creature you don’t control.” That would be less confusing. Unless you do want it to keep fighting infinitely. There’s also some weirdness in that this does the same effect twice back to back, putting counter on it before and after, which is a little weird, but hardened scales decks prefer it that way. As an instant pump spell removal spell with extra utility, I think this is maybe too complex even for uncommon. It also doesn’t really have a great way to include the reminder text that the creature needs to still be alive to put the +1/+1 counter on it, which confuses some new players. For the most part I like the design of this card, but it’s just too complex.

@misterstingyjack​ - Threshold

You’re playing with fire, here. A tutor on a land is incredibly powerful, even one as weak and slow and narrow as this. We’ve seen the incredible power of Urza’s Saga, and while this is weaker, it may fall into the same trap of assuming that cheap is the same as weak. I also don’t get the flavor at all. A threshold is like a barrier, so I kind of get that it’s a land, but is this supposed to represent specifically the barrier between the rest of the world and presumably the legendary land you’re tutoring? Okay, now that I write it out I kind of get that. But why is it legendary? Normally that wouldn’t bug me that much but A) on lands its a big deal and B) the card itself cares about legends, so it’s kind of relevant. I think if this specifically stated lands this might be fine, but this card seems specifically made to try and be broken, which I think is not a great idea.

@nicolbolas96​ - Eternalize

Well that’s quite the removal spell. It even removed the oxford comma from the reminder text! Seriously, though, this card is pretty scary. While it can be used fairly as a removal spell, it also has some random combo potential, like magus of the abyss or leonin abunas, or other stuff I’m probably not thinking of. It also seems absolutely devastating in commander, where it’s entirely possible you completely remove their commander from relevance, or protect yours somehow? This is a really hard card to evaluate, because we’ve only seen one other card similar to it, one with the stars, but this is also an instant with a permanent effect. I’m not a huge fan of the latter aspect, though I appreciate that the name at least clues people in to the fact that it lasts indefinitely. I’m very glad it’s at rare to make up for the many confusions that will come from this card. Lastly, this is pretty cheap for this effect. It’s basically two mana instant speed removal in white that can’t be protected by indestructible or even reanimation. This kills things that shouldn’t be able to die. Maybe that’s fine? Like I said, hard to evaluate, but I think I come out on the side of positive. Not great, I think it’s more trouble than it’s worth, but it’s at least something new and exciting.

@nine-effing-hells​ - Planeswalk

There’s some templating issues with this card that makes it unclear to me what it’s trying to do. Let’s say I have eight lands in play when I play this. I shuffle them into my deck, then each player reveals cards until they reveal 8 lands. Then I may put any number of those lands onto the battlefield. I’m going to assume under my control? It would need to says so, because right now they would just go under their owner’s control. Next, players shuffle “the rest” into their library. The rest of what? As written, it implies the lands, but I’m also shuffling the other cards revealed, right? Though they never left the library, so either way they’d get shuffled. I think you’d want to say “You may put any number of land cards revealed this way onto the battlefield under your control, then each player shuffles the rest of the revealed cards into their library.” Mas polymorph is the closest I could find to this. Anyway, the card’s mechanics: I think this is a little underwhelming. It’s a lot of counting and shuffling and stealing for very little gain. You’re doubling your mana for 8 mana, which is actually one above boundless realms or nyxbloom ancient and two above mana reflection. But with this you get to steal your opponents’ lands! That’s kind of just worse than your own lands, since they won’t tap for the right colors of mana all the time. You’re also thinning their deck by a pretty significant amount, meaning your opponent is actually getting some amount of benefit out of this (unless they’re mana screwed, in which case you were winning anyway). I think this only really has any use in commander, where the “each player” part means you’re more likely quadrupling your mana. I guess that’s pretty good for eight mana. This is also insanely good in landfall decks, obviously. I think I like this card, but there’s a lot of things pulling me from it. It’s a cool mix of scapeshift, oblivion sower, and boundless realms, but kind of feels bloated. It’s just trying to do so much, and because of that it’s got a massive mana cost and a lot of annoying to deal with shuffling and counting, nto to mention the amount of confusion that stealing lands usually leads to. Lastly, and I almost missed this, all the lands come into play untapped, which feels excessive. Eight mana to double your mana permanently that also doubles your mana the turn you play it is just begging for trouble. I think this would be a card everyone at the table would groan when they see, potentially even the player playing it. From a purely mechanical angle it seems like a good idea, but there’s just so many little issues that add up to make it a hassle of a card.

@Partlycloudy-partlyfuckoff - Dash

I think this card doesn’t do enough. I tink the “if” part is unnecessary. +2/+0 and haste is easily something worth 1 mana, even at common. The fact that it rewards targeting a creature that actually needs hast feels redundant, and I feel like it’s an attempt to get this card closer to it’s ability, which goes against the goals of this contest. I think you might have needed to step back and think about another interpretation of the word dash to try and come up with something more original.

@pocketvikings​ - Amass

I have one very important question about this card: why would you cast this for X anything more than 0? There’s reasons too, of course, but the card doesn’t really encourage it in any way. I can see this being played in a Rosheen Meanderer deck, but just a mana filterer, which seems weird. You can play it in a mizzix deck or other mana value matters decks, but that also feels really narrow. I think the most common use for X is cost reduction, like if you have a Baral and a Goblin Electromancer. Then that mana really is free, and it does feel like you’re amassing it. Sadly, those are the exact kinds of decks where you really don’t want to be limited to one more spell. So you have a card here that doesn’t really know where it wants to go. I think you either really needed to encourage big mana some way (like by doubling outright instead of adding), or by encouraging small mana (like just adding X mana alone, but allowing multiple casts, so you just get to double dip on mana reductions). As is, there’s just not a place for this card.

@reaperfromtheabyss​ - Threshold

I don’t quite get the reference with vampires. Is it a reference to them not being able to enter a house without being welcomed? Is that a threshold? Anyhoo, card seems fine. I don’t think it needed to be an artifact: plenty of walls in magic aren’t artifacts, and I don’t think they need to be. The last ability is just Baird. This is a wall that makes it hard to attack you. That’s all, folks! It hink it does a fine job of that, but it feels hard to feel that this card is necessary when Baird is already out there and has power and vigilance and only 1 more mana. I don’t think this card is bad, I just think it’s the most literal interpretation of the name.

@shakeszx - Bury

Spooky. Love the art, and kill spells are great places for one-name cards. The flavor really comes together. As with any creature-type based removal spells, you get some nitpicky things like “can you bury an elemental? Can you bury an ooze?” But that’s just what I expect pedantic players would say. I think non-spirit is fine trinket text. My biggest issue with this is that it’s very clearly a reference to the original ability. Bury got changed to “kill it and it can’t be regenerated,” and you swapped out the regeneration for indestructible, it’s current substitute. I wish I could have seen a card further from its source for this challenge, but I can’t argue against how solid of a card this is. I do wish it had found a way to stray further from terminate, which is almost exactly a reflection of this card. Also this is kind of going to be a boring rare (I say as someone who opened multiple dreadbores).

@snugz​ - Eternalize

Love me some gold counters! I remember putting aurification in my old defender decks. This really fits the theme. I like how you put the counter on it even though it wasn’t “technically” necessary: you could have just had it gain all those things. But the counter is a very useful tool for remembering, and the fact that it can be interacted with, unlikely as it is that you can remove the counter, it still technically gives you something you can do about it. The defender and can’t activate abilities is neat, but the other two parts seem odd. Turning it into a treasure doesn’t really do anything other than random stuff like counting towards Revel in Riches. I think you wanted to grant it the treasure ability. The fact that it can still activate mana abilities is what tipped me off to that, since that seems incredibly narrow otherwise. I also think this is closer to a white card than a black card. It’s extremely similar to both Guard Duty and Minimus Containment, both white cards. Black would be much closer to just outright killing the creature, especially for a 3 mana uncommon. Still, I like the flavor of it.

@starch255​ - Extort

Well this is not something I was expecting. I can really respect the attempt to make something new with what you’ve got. You may be pushing the boundary a bit harder than I liked, but at least you had fun with it. The card is strange, but I think I like it. Haste is a weird ability because it doesn’t scale evenly, so 5 mana for 4 power haste is kind of in line. The “flying when attacking” is a nice way to power it up and down a bit, and the one toughness makes this really fragile. It also sort of helps with the flavor: high toughness is the one thing most commonly associated with turtles. Still, something about this card feels off. Even with haste, 5 mana for a 1 toughness creature is a hard sell. In the right format, this would be a beating and a half, and in the wrong format, this would be last pick every draft. Ravnica, where this card seems to be from, is famous for its many 1/1 flyers. Especially with conditional flying, you could probably have pumped up the toughness at least to two. But hey, funny card, okay in some formats probably, and a cool two color design.

@stellarlight​ - Encore

Visual: A magic show. Three identical magicians jump through the air with happy smiles on their faces, an outfit identical to theirs is on the floor. The audience is mesmerized.

Now this is a strange card. First off, I think this card is a little close to the original ability, which I tried to discourage, but not so close that I’m disqualifying it. I just think you maybe played it a little safe. As for the ability, how strange! At first it just seems like an incredibly overcosted Kaya’s Ghostform, but the fact that it hits opponents things means it’s a little closer to Minion’s Return. The fact that it makes a token instead of reanimating the creature has upsides and downsides: it means you can still do graveyard things with the creature card in the yard, but it means that bounce spells are kill spells. If you’re taking your opponents cards, it’s the opposite. The bonus ability on this is pretty cool, though. It makes this card really cool in blink decks, since you can enchant your guy at the end of their turn, untap, then blink it on your turn with a charming prince or something. The tokens stick around, too, so you’ll end up getting three ETB triggers in addition to the one you already were going to get from blinking it in the first place. Still, I think this card is a mana too much, maybe more. Minion’s return is the closest basis to this card, and it was an uncommon that almost never got played. This requires setup to ge the most benefit from, and still costs two more, including another color! Aura’s are already so easy to mess with, sinking 5 mana into one just to get blown out with a removal spell on the stack, or having someone mess with your blink effect before you untap is very likely. I think just four mana, or even 3 might be fine. I think it’s a really cool idea, though, and other than the cost (and the similarity to the ability), I like this card.

@wilsonosgoodmcman​ - Fateseal

They’ve been trying to design a card like this for years I feel, and you got a pretty good version of it. It’s a bit like spell queller and a bit like Oblivion Ring. I think the name fits pretty well, and I like how you reinterpreted the “seal” from meaning “decide” to meaning “trap.” The templating on the bottom is a bit off: you could probably steal it whole from Spell Queller. The cost also seems right on the money: just a touch more expensive than O-Ring, same price as Cast Out or Ashiok’s Erasure but with comparable downsides to both. I think this would se play in a lot of blue white control decks. Part of me wants to complain and say that this card is boring and too close to things that have been done before, but I think I’m wrong on both accounts. This is a role-player in the format, not a headliner. A good card, and a good answer to the prompt.

@wolkemesser​ - Grandeur

Making a Lorwyn style incarnation is a really clever way to get that name to work. Your reworking of the shuffle clause is pretty interesting, and is a clever way to set up that last ability. And that last ability sure is something. It gives this creature basically a permanent on-death effect. It still needs to be cast and die, but after it does, you’re good. Your opponent has to 20 you in one turn. But as a mythic that needs to be set up is that fine? If you play a temple garden into avacyn’s pilgrim or bird of paradise, you can get this out by turn three or so. If you play a sacrifice outlet before then, you can set up this combo nearly immediately. Even so, graveyard hate can hit it, just not all graveyard hate (many players use grafdiggers cage in historic, for example). If I were in charge of deciding if this card sees print, I would be terrified. It’s a really cool and maybe balanced ability, but I’m worried it would turn quite a few games into do-you-have-it games of combos vs. graveyard hate. It’s probably fine though. I like this card.

~

And that’s everybody. If you want to talk to me about anything in particular, feel free to contact me at our discord.

-Mod Mr. ShinyObject

[panicinart]

Avrage day (Brahms x reader)

It's almost 3 am while writing this and I crave for soft Brahms story, pure fluff and I also didn't prove read it for any errors or something similar

The clock hits 6 am and the alarm started to pull you out of your wonderful dream by it's awful screeching noises. With a groan you toss and turned a bit until you admit defeat, with a heavy sigh you pull yourself out of the comfortable and warm bed into the cold called your room. Normally it would have been at least a bit warm but Brahms somehow managed to damage the heater while crawpe through the wall.

You stretch your back and arms while slowing walking up to Brahmses room. The door squeaked a bit, you're eyes look at the still sleeping form of Brahms slightly snoring a bit. You always checked on him every morning if everyone is alright, with a soft smile you close the door and began to fish out your clothes for the day.

Your still tired body clumsily dragged you into the bathroom to make yourself fresh the morning sunlight already shining into the room.

As you finished to wash and clothed yourself the birds started to sing and it was soon time to wake up Brahms.

With the rest of the 15 minutes you quickly walked down to the kitchen and made the table ready for breakfast. Bread, butter, cheese, ham, orange juice, you counted to yourself if everything was there, with a nod you tuned on the stove to boil some eggs.

With that you happily walked up to Brahmses room and softly knocking on the door.

"Brahsm, it's time to wake up"

You sayd in a warm and soft tone.

The only response you got was a disgruntled grumble and the man you're taking care of turning his back on you. With a huff's you shoved the curtains aside and heard from behind how Brahms groand in agony as the warm sun shined on his face.

"It's time to wake up"

You sayd in a more demanding tone,

"Five more minutes..."

Brahms sayd in return, you put your hands on your hips and huffed with slight annoyance. He always says five more minutes, and out of those dives became 10 then 20 then 45 and then a hour, and after that he got mad that you woke him up so late.

You shaked your head and pulled the blanket off of Brahms who put a bit of a fight with it.

"You need to make yourself ready now, I already started to boil the eggs and if I wait any longer there is going to be a mess."

He only pouted a bit when he heard that sentence and slowly started to dramatically drag himself out of bed. With a smile you patted his and and got him some fresh clothes out of the drawer.

When all was done you got Brahmses hand and convoy him to the kitchen, since he still made his body heavier then it was and walked around like a puppet who's strings almost fall off of it.

But all that behavior quickly stopped when he sat at the table and got his breakfast.

You quickly were finished with yours and started to clean the dishes while Brahms lazily munched on his last sandwich.

"After you are brush your teeth and come back to play the piano, okay?"

He nodded while swallowing the last bite and quickly walked away.

Into the room with the pino you already picked out the piece he is learning at the moment and clipped it on the board. It didn't took long until the tall and lanky man joined you and took a seat.

The man was an incredibly talented player, his nibble and skilled fingers played the music with ease. No matter how many times you hear him play it impresses you each and every time. Actually when you think about it, he is generally a really talented man. He is amazing at playing the piano, his painting skills are remarkable and even if you don't hear him sing a lot his deep growly adult voice is just so wonderful to hear. He also learns quick, every new info Brahms get he will absorb it like a sponge. To bad that instead of using his talent for someone good and productive he rather use it to play a few pranks on you or cause mischief if he feels like it.

The time fly by fast, piano lessons were over and Brahms was finishing his school lession outstandingly well. So as a treat for working so well you told him you would read him 3 chapters more of his favorite novel. With small giddy jumps he walked up to you embracing your much smaller form in a tight hug. The cold and slightly cracked porcelain nose nuzzled its between your shoulder while your soft hands caressed his head softly.

You both placed yourself on the newly bought couch listening to the music Brahms choice for today. But it was clear that he was occupied with something else. The tall man snuggled tighter to your form and fought your fingers into yours, playing with them. He was way to caught up with your presence that he completely blacked out the music. Every now and then his big hand gave yours a small playful squeeze or his face burying its into the crook of your neck.

The little actions make you giggle slightly and your warm smile grew a bit wider when he asked if you could give him a kiss on the forehead. Normally you tell him kisses are only for goodnights but you let it slide just this once.

Brahms flaild his legs in excitment, small giggles escaping his mouth as you shower his face with kisses.

At noon it was Brahmses playtime. You already made yours comfortable on the floor watching the man gathering all his favorite toys out of the giant plastic box. His arms filled with all the goodies and his eyes sparkling with excitement he stumbled to your way on his knee's.

But he never was satisfied with one thing. Often times he asked you to bring out his painting utensils or clay to make small figure and since you finally brought modern electronics into the house he sometimes asked to play mario kart with you.

As time flew by faster then you liked, you told Brahms to bring back the toys into the box while you went off to make lunch. With a disappointed grunt he picked up his dolls and legos.

While you prepared today's lunch you heard how Brahms was shuffling around you curiously watching you. He sometimes in between the stares asked you what your doing right now or if he could help. Even though Brahms is still a spoiled man, he learns to appreciating the moments were you both cook together. He may not be the best at it but him trying his best was good end for you and it also warmed your heart when you watch him trying to cut the perfect slice just for you.

At 1 pm dinner was ready and the table ready.

"Thank you for cooking"

Sayd Brahms with a mouth full of food, you gave him a smile and thanked him back for helping. Too bad you won't get the same help when you need to clean the dishes.

As you both place the dirty dishes into the sink and put the rest of the meal into a container. The lanky man quickly hide back into the wall to do god knows what. You never know what exactly he does there, sometimes you hear him crawl betwen the tight spaces or he gives you a vague answer when you ask. But what you know is that he needs is time alone and even if you're dying of curiosity you respect his privacy and don't want to invade it. So you dry the last plate and start to clean the house.

When the old grandfather clock striked 4:50 pm you were surprised that you didn't heard anything from Brahms, infact you didn't even hear hims shuffle inside the walls. You knew that the worst case scenario is him falling asleep between the walls but because it is so out of character for the man you still worried slightly. When you stuffed that bit of dirty clothes into the washer and your eyes staring at the clock that was now showing 6:00 pm you decide to call out his name.

And you called, and called, and called, but there was no answer the dumb side of your brain told you that Brahms slipped and bit his head on som6hard and is now hirting on the floor. But as your anxiety grew more and more it quickly got shut down as it came when you felt two strong arms hugging you from behind and the comfortable warmth of the wall gremlin.

"I hope I did not worry you too much"

A child voice sayd, before you could answer you got silenced rather fast when the man held something close to your face. It was a necklace, it looked like it was made by hand, here and there were a few rough and sloppy edges but you definitely could recognize that someone more skillful made it.

"Is-is this form me?"

With big eyes you looked at Brahms who nodded shyly

"It's a thanks for taking care of me"

He carefully placed it around your neck and hocked the ends together. You almost jumped out of your socks out of joy and gratification. Your arms embraced Brahms in a big hug softly swaying each others body from left to right and giving him small kisses. His soft snorts and giggles only spurt you even more on in drowning him in your affection.

As the clock hit 7:00 you both were already finished with dinner and making yourselfs ready for the night. But it was still a bit to early so you took the liberty to snuggle yourself next to Brahms playing with his brown locks as you listen to him whisper small words of affection towards you.

The older man shifted a bit and pulled the book from the night table to you,

"Can you please read the story for me now? You promised to give me 3 extra chapters and if you don't start now if will be to late!"

His child voice pointed out you gave him a last kiss on the forehead and took the book.

As you spoke out the sentences you didn't noticed hof Brahms slowly but surely feel asleep only his almost not noticeable snores alerted you to his sleeper form. You wanted to wiggle out of the bed but the man had a death grip on you, so instead you lays the book aside and turned off the lights also softly falling into dream land awaiting the next day.

[janekfan]

Saw you were looking for some Jon Tim prompts so here's a few! :D 1) Tim decides to stalk Jon to show him what it feels like. Jon is satisfyingly frazzled; then a fear shows up. 2) Jon protects Tim from the Distortion Michael. Tim's confused. 3) Jon get lost in the tunnels. Perhaps Tim can hear him from the trap door and ends up pulling him out. They're both in bad shape and Martin is ticked. 4) Tim finds Jon after he gets stabbed by Michael. Happy Prompt Hunting!

I went with number 4! :D All are very good though

https://archiveofourown.org/works/28436451

Jon was being shifty again.

Not like that was anything new, and Tim had caught wind of a bread knife rumor?

But whatever. It was no concern of his and he’d rather go the day withouth seeing him if he could. Avoid the hot spike of poisonous anger that followed after every infuriating interaction and seeped, staining, into all other aspects of his life. Better to leave him be. Let Basira and Daisy and Melanie and Martin deal with him and leave Tim to work on his high scores.

So of course it would just be the two of them in the office today. Martin dropped off Jon’s tea like clockwork and strode bitterly out of the Archives without so much as glancing at Tim. He’d delivered his warnings earlier when he’d been assigned this field research and Tim would follow the instructions to leave him be to the letter.

“He’s exhausted, Tim.”

“Don’t care.”

“I. I know. What I’m trying to say is don’t make things worse.” Tim scoffed at that. Yes, he would be the ones making it all worse. Because it wasn’t worse already. Sasha wasn’t gone, they weren’t trapped here because of Jon who definitely hadn’t turned into some paranoid stalker armed with evil powers.

But yeah. He wouldn’t make things worse.

The makeshift pad of gauze and bandaging was soaked through with his own bright blood and staring at it brought a wash of dizziness over him and flooded his mouth with salt. Before he could faint dead away he reached for his dwindling supplies and prepared to change the dressing. If it didn’t stop this time, he’d have no choice but to ask for help.

If they’d spare any.

Jon hissed through his teeth when removing the compress served only to break the clot, pouring a hot runnel over his skin that caught and welled and spilled over the ladder of his ribs. Blacked at the edges, his vision tunneled, and nausea coiled sour in his stomach. It hurt. It hurt to breathe, to think, to move, deep, deep, deep and aching in the very core of him. Graceless and bumbling, Jon struggled to cover the surprisingly small incision and wrap himself tight enough to please, please stop bleeding. Holding himself close and careful, Jon staggered to his feet only to knock his hip hard against the desk as he went woozy.

He’d stood for something. Risked toppling over for something but the pounding of his pulse in his temples made everything that much harder and the room was spinning around and around and he nearly joined it, teetering a half turn before lurching to a stop, pressing his arm against his throbbing side.

It hurt.

One of them must have painkillers of some sort. Sash--

She. He.

How could he’d have forgotten? A bolt of fresh sorrow struck him so hard in the chest it stole his breath away with it and he sagged beneath its gravity, gripping the cool metal of the door handle painfully for support, looking down and seeing it as though it were the first time.

Where…? He needed something. Needed...because it hurt. He hurt and he needed help.

“Jesus, Jon!” Tim’s whole body flinched violently when he realized Jon was hovering near his desk like a wraith, sallow and with shadows like bruises lining the sharp planes of his face. “What?” His silence was petrol on the fire of Tim’s always simmering anger and it flared brightly, blinding, such that Jon staggered a step back, lifting a trembling hand only to drop it back to his side.

“T’Tim.” He swallowed with a click, and Tim watched his throat work, lashes fluttering like moth’s wings, brows knit together in effort and confusion.

“Out with it!”

“D’you‘ave pa, para…?” Even with his tripped up tongue, the compulsion found a way to thread through the question and Tim saw the fear fill up Jon’s glassy eyes when he realized a beat later what he’d done. Resisting was painful, the static filled up his ears, his head, his blood with its continuous hiss, rising higher and higher as he tried his damndest not to answer what really was a simple question. It wasn’t about that though. It wasn’t alright for Jon to take like that, to use whatever the hell this was to pull what he wanted to know from the inside of them without a thought. To hurt them just to Know.

In the end, he had no choice and coughed up his elucidation like a mouthful of razors, slamming his fist against his desk and using the leverage to stand and confront him.

“S’sorry. Din’t...” slurred and barely intelligible, the empty apologies only made Tim angrier and for one awful moment, he wanted to hit him. Give back just a fraction of the pain he’d caused all of them with his selfish ignorance. He wrestled it down with difficulty, clenched his teeth against the residual ache of Jon’s power.

“What’d you do to yourself?” Because the man looked hungover, sweaty and sick, paler by the minute and he wouldn’t blame him for crawling into a bottle. Might even be inclined to join him if he ever extended an offer.

“H’hur’s.” Jon’s overture broke open in a sob, his clawing, grasping fingers twisted in his dark jumper over his stomach and it looked as though he was considering lurching for the bin.

“Are you pisse--whoa!” Instead, Jon stumbled into him and reflexively, Tim shoved him away, like he was something disgusting, watching him trip over clumsy feet and land hard on his side in a sprawl of uncoordinated limbs. Tim yanked him up roughly, ignoring the sharp intake of breath, and tugged him back to his office by a bony elbow, muttering unkindly, “just sober up or whatever.”

The door slammed behind Jon and reverberated into his aching bones. He’d forgotten what he needed and the pain was so bad now it had removed any remaining will he had to stay awake. After Tim pushed him and he hit the ground, (clumsy, stupid, can’t even walk on your own) it was like being stabbed by Michael all over again; a burst of bright white twisting, turning, contorting agony that wasn’t easing so much as it was spreading all the way to the tips of his fingers.

Maybe if he sat down, got off his feet, he’d not feel so ill. Yes...yes that would be good. It would be nice to rest for a moment, just close his burning eyes, just for a little while. Then he could get back to work, finish up those statements he was working on. He was working on statements? When he went to step forward a sharp pain rocked through him hard enough that he had to brace himself on the unforgiving hard wood of the desk.

What--

Suddenly weak in the knees, Jon all but collapsed into his chair, curling into himself, every harsh and hollow gasp of breath like the bite of a knife.

Half five and Jon still hadn't emerged a second time from his office. Tim was the only one left besides him and despite how adamantly he refused to care he does not want to draw Martin’s temper. This had nothing to do with his own concern and armed with the distance that afforded him, Tim knocked loudly, obnoxiously, rudely.

There was no response.

“Oi, Jon!” Shouldering open the door, he’s got a rant on the tip of his tongue and is looking forward to using it. “Drunk at work, whatever will Marto say? The scandal…” With no reaction forthcoming, no moaning or groaning or yelling Tim took a second to actually look at him, lying collapsed over his desk, cheek pillowed on one folded arm. He’s passed clean out, and Tim touched his forehead only to find it cold and clammy. Something was far from alright if Jon’s rapid, shallow breathing and nearly grey lips were anything to go by. “Boss?” He was slack and loose when Tim shook him none too gently, mouth falling open with an almost inaudible whine. Alarm bells were ringing, red flags cropping up the longer stayed in here with him and the weighty feeling of being watched made him shiver. Very suddenly he wanted out of there but when he pulled Jon upright his eyelids barely shifted and what little color remained drained from his face so quickly Tim barely got the bin in place for him to lose what little he had in his stomach, no more than a little tea really. If the moisture hadn’t glinted in the low light coming in from the other room, Tim wouldn’t have noticed the dark wet blotch blending with the fibers of Jon’s jumper or the red and rust staining his trousers halfway down his thigh.

“Jon!” He wasn’t awake, not really, body reacting with wretched whimpers and the sluggish shifting of his arms when Tim eased him out of the chair and onto the ground. “Shit. Shit!” 999. 999 and following their explicit instructions; elevate his legs, keep him warm, don’t let him aspirate on his own sick. He lifted the sopping and soaked fabric of his borrowed clothing and his hand flew to cover his mouth when he saw the damage and he thought back to Jon’s plea for paracetamol, the apparently accidental compulsion.

“H’hur’s.”

His whole flank was black with the blood pooled beneath his skin and smeared with crimson above and when Tim applied his own crumpled up button down over top of the drenched bundle of gauze Jon cried out, writhing weakly under his punishing hands, eyes rolling wildly under bruised lids.

God. What was the point of being angry with Jon for not being honest, for not reaching out, if this is what happened when he did? If Tim was going to be rough with him, accuse him of being soused when really--

When really he was bleeding to death behind the closed door Tim put him behind so he didn’t have to look at him.

“T…”

“Hey, hey buddy.

“Hur’hurting me…” Slicked with weals of blood, Jon’s thin fingers slipped against Tim’s wrists, no strength to shift him, to stop what was happening, to stop him from hurting him like everybody else had hurt him, even though he was trying to save him. Jon didn’t understand, couldn’t, and he sobbed helplessly, keening cry lancing through Tim like the sharpest spear as yet again he was at the mercy of someone with more power. Catching up his hands, holding both in just one of his own, the hot blood was a painful contrast with Jon’s icy skin.

“Hush, I’m sorry, you’re okay, you’re okay, you’re okay. I’ve got you, Jon.”

“Nngh…ah!” Tim lifted his hands to his chest, cradled them there in all their scarred roughness and fragility, deadweight and limp.

“Soon now, just stay awake, bud. Stay with me.”

“T’T…” rapid breaths choked him off, left him gasping, fingers spasming in his hold.

Pulled gently away by unfamiliar hands.

Strangers’ voices muffled in his ears.

Jon’s half-lidded dull brown eyes filled with sharp fear.

All so slow Tim wasn’t sure any of it was happening at all until suddenly, a dawning of crystal clarity. Numbers and instructions and bodies, shouting, changing, moving.

Jon begging them to stop, stop--

“Stop hurting him!”

A firm grip pulled him to the side, forced him to look away from the red, red, red rising like a tide in his eyes until he couldn’t see anything else.

“We’re going to help him, but you need to let us.”

“...Y’yeah…”

“Are you coming?”

“Hm?”

“Sir?” Tim took in the sight of Jon’s blood still wet on the tile, the papers and folders in disarray and stained with drops like poppy petals plotting a course of ache and agony he didn’t want to travel.

And then Jon. Strapped down, held in place, fluids being forced into his collapsing veins. Face grey and lined with pain and streaked with red and--

“N’no. No.” The paramedics were already hurrying away. “I’ll. Someone will be there.”

It didn’t deserve to be him.

“Martin.”

“Tim, I swear to god--”

“Martin.”

“--get a hold of yourself for pity’s sake--”

“Martin!”

“What?!” An irritated huff passed over the line. “If this is just--”

“Jon’s in hospital, i’in surgery.” Stony silence run through with the vaguest hum of static fell between them.

“Tim--”

“I. I. I don’t think it was a bread knife.” Tim’s fingers were clenched around his phone so hard he thought it might crack as he kneeled beside the stain Jon left behind. Say nothing of Martin’s implication that this was his fault. That he’d done this to Jon.

But hadn’t he driven him to it?

Hadn’t he driven Jon to keep his pain and terror and sadness and secrets to himself when he turned on him? When he blamed him? When he came to him today, tried to reach for him, to reach for help, and was again denied?

“Tim!”

“M--”

“Where?”

“Wh’happen’...?”

“Jon?” This wasn’t the first time he’d been awake but it was the first time he’d done more than weep with confusion. Perfectly normal, Martin had been assured, between the anesthesia, the medication for pain, the massive internal hemorrhage they’d had to go in and repair, somehow saving his spleen of all things.

“Mmartin?” The effort to speak was dragging him back out to sea with exhaustion, heavy lashes struggling to part under the weight of it and only offering glimpses of glassy brown.

“Shh, go back to sleep.” Gently, Martin brushed back through his curls taking note of the too-cool temperature of his skin and the ink-dark bruises like kohl under his eyes. “It’s alright, I’m right here.”

“I, I…” Somewhere between his protest and a damp sob, Jon dropped off the edge of the precipice and Martin thumbed away the tears lining his cheeks before taking up his hand to resume his attempts at rubbing the warmth back into it.

“You should go home.” Tim was quieter than he’d ever heard him before, still likely cowed from their earlier conversation where the only thing Martin could look at was the copper embedded under his fingernails, smeared across his wrists and gone dark with oxidation. “He’s in good hands.”

“And how would you know that, Tim?” Bitter. Frustrated. Angry. Jon should have been in good hands before. Trusted hands. Hands that may well be spiteful, resentful, but hands that wouldn’t let Jon slip through the cracks regardless.

“I just meant.” Martin wasn’t able to look at him, afraid of what he might say next, afraid that he might physically throw the other man from the room for daring to deny Jon the slightest support.

“Last time I left you with him, he ended up here.”

“That’s--” Voice raised, shouting, and even down deep Jon flinched, arms shifting in an attempt to protect his face. Martin was livid, settling Jon with a few whispered words before turning to confront Tim.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to be here.”

“I didn’t…” Tim was small, folding into himself and sharp at his corners, bristling and contrite.

“I’ll text you with an update if there is one.”

“I. I’m sorry, Martin.” But he neither needed nor wanted an apology. He wasn’t the one Tim wronged today.

A week later saw Martin helping Jon up the narrow steps to his flat, concerned by his pallor and the trembling in his limbs and when he finally dropped him onto the lumpy sofa, saw that he was sweating.

“I’ll make some tea.” He’d purchased a few essentials to go along with his prescriptions. It wouldn’t do if he made himself ill on an empty stomach. If he listened closely he could just hear Jon’s panting, making certain to bring water along with the mug and a few chocolate digestives to offset the loss of blood still exacerbating his fatigue.

“M’quite alright, Martin.” He had yet to sit up, still laying back among the cushions, one scarred forearm laid above his nose. “Don’have to coddle me.” Martin didn’t rise to his bait, instead ignoring him in favor of sitting beside where his greater weight tipped Jon gently into his side. He didn’t resist, instead embracing his vulnerability and sinking deeper into the warm wool of his jumper with a sullen hum.

“I’m not “coddling” you, Jon.” Steeped to his preferences, Martin pressed the tea into his hands, lingering to be certain he could hold it on his own before tucking a biscuit between his forefinger and the porcelain and then another when he polished it off, probably not thinking about it.

“Have you heard from Tim?” Barely audible over the rim of his mug, Jon kept his eyes downcast and Martin couldn’t see under his long lashes from the angle he was at. He’d asked a few times, understanding his disappointment was aimed at Tim and not at Jon, at least not this time. They’d discussed the incident and Martin got the sense that he wanted no part in a repeat performance though he’d explained his attempt at asking for help was the last time he was cognizant enough to think in a somewhat straight line. After that it was pain and cold and shadow and Tim crushing him into the floor and he didn’t understand.

“Yeah.” Martin sipped on his own tea, encouraged Jon to do the same, but he was a dog with a bone.

“Is he. Uh. Cross? With. With me?” He looked up, tired eyes wide and round. “I mean, more than, than the usual?”

“Jon.”

“I know! I.” Falling silent, Jon nibbled absentmindedly on the last biscuit and accepted the tablets to swallow with the dregs of his tea. He’d be out like a light soon with that painkiller and Martin tugged him up when he hissed through his teeth at the agony of trying to move and caught him when he listed on his feet. Rather than hovering, Martin decided instead to keep an ear out as he put away the groceries and filled a glass of water for his nightstand, meeting Jon back at the sofa where he held a stack of bedding topped with pillows.

“I know.” He swallowed, “you’re here out of, of obligation? Kindness? But. But I’ll be fine on my own--you don’t have to stay.” Martin shook his head, a sad smile spreading over his lips as he relieved Jon of his bundle, longing to pull him into an embrace and relieve him of the invisible burden he carried alone. Compromising, he settled for cupping a slim shoulder, not missing how he melted under the soft touch.

“I’m here because we’re friends, Jon.” Unexpected tears welled in his eyes, spilling over as his staid expression crumpled. “Oh, oh, Jon, come here. It’s alright.” Spent, Jon let his forehead collide with his chest, crying silently, and Martin abandoned the duvet in favor of folding him up. “It’s alright.”

“S’sorry...just.” But he couldn’t get any more words out and Martin ran a hand up and down his taut back, rubbing circles over the sharp blades of his shoulders.

“You don’t have to be.” In a few moments the energy began to ooze out of Jon’s bones, the meds kicking in full force and taking his strength with it. “Okay, time for bed.” With a bit of cautious manhandling, Martin was able to get him tucked in between the sheets, meeting eyes blinking slow like those of a cat. “Comfy?”

“Mmyeah…” slipping out on an exhale and it brought a grin back to Martin’s face to see him so relaxed and more than a little loopy. “Hey Martin?” Graceless, Jon’s clumsy fingers tangled with his. “Thank you.” Cross eyed with the effort of sincerely conveying his gratitude, he spoke earnestly, if marble-mouthed and Martin felt his own cheeks flush hot in the velvet dark. He allowed himself to tuck stray and greying flyaways behind Jon ear before sweeping a thumb over the bone of his cheek and watching him drift under. Martin slipped away, keeping the door open in case something happened, and made up his own bed, listening to Jon’s soft and sleepy sounds.

“Good night, Jon.”

[tonystarkbingo]

3 Prompt Summaries Game

reunions, masks, body worship - suggested by @polizwrites

@polizwrites - Now that Rhodey was full time military, Tony hadn’t seen him  in months.  They  made plans to meet up in Key West  during Fantasy Fest  —  wearing masks (and very little else), they could finally indulge  their own fantasy of being a couple in public.

@psychiccatpanda - Rhodey took the kids trick-or-treating on his own because Tony had been called away on business again.  When they get back, Tony's home and has set the place up for a Halloween party for the kids and their friends. When the kids' friends go home and the lights go down, Rhodey takes his time welcoming his husband home.

@somesortofitalianroast - It was 5 years since Steve Rogers had last seen Bucky Barnes, when Barnes left in the middle of the night after they had sex for the first time, leaving the country the next day for a lucrative job, and Steve heartbroken. It had been several years since Steve had thought of Barnes, though he’d recognize the man anywhere, even behind a domino mask at a masquerade ball. Just seeing Barnes made his blood boil, and he wanted to charge across the ballroom, slap the man silly, and then worship every inch of the man’s body. Too bad he was at the ball with clients and there was no way he could do that without losing a very important contract.

@darthbloodorange - (ShrunkyClunks) - He waits in the shadows of an old warehouse, a mask obscuring his identity. No one could know he was here; not only would his reputation be tarnished, but that of the Avengers as their leader. But there was something about the dark assassin that drew him in. Barnes treated him like no other in this world. Treasured him, possessed him, worshipped him. Not like a hero as the world did, but as a man and lover.

Keep reading for lots more!

cookies, mermaid, dancing - suggested by @somesortofitalianroast

@somesortofitalianroast - Darcy didn’t bake for the Avengers all the time, and she never made her mermaid cookies, since they were complicated and she needed to pay attention to the details when icing them with fancy icing. So it was a big deal when she made them, the sort of thing that made you want to dance in the kitchen.

@gavilansblog - Luca AU where Tony introduces mer-people Steve and Bucky to cookies and dancing

@deehellcat - Morgan's eighth birthday party featured a mermaid theme, cookies with sparkly decorations, and dancing.

@psychiccatpanda - Bucky Barnes never dreamed he'd ever be put in charge of kids.  Who'd want the Winter Soldier for a babysitter?  But this little girl - Tony Stark's little girl - stared up at him, waiting for a reply.

He was pretty sure the last time he'd been this nervous was when he came back to the States after Wakanda.  "Yeah, we can do that.  Sounds like fun."

Which was how he found himself not-quite elbows deep in blue-green frosting for the ocean reef cookies they had baked (that he had baked) while Morgan spun around the kitchen dancing in her mermaid costume.

@lbibliophile-mcu - Tony looks at the tray of raw cookies in dismay. Whoever had designed the mermaid cookie cutter clearly had no concept of the baking skill of the average parent. 

He had managed to press out all the pictures without causing more damage than the occasional lost arm or misshapen head (and a couple of 'defective' cookies are always required for taste-testing straight out of the oven). But the process of transferring the cookies from the bench to the tray had caused the raw dough to stretch and fold and tear; leaving figures better described as some sort of vaguely-humanoid aquatic eldritch horror... 

Impatient, Morgan clambers onto her stool and gasps in delight. "Look, Daddy! The mermaids are dancing!"

@darthbloodorange - (Thundershield) - Thor set out on his boat to the middle of the lake. A smile on his face and a song on his lips. People feared the lake and the creatures that dwelled within. He didn't see why. Peering over the edge of the boat, he watched the mermaids dance. His eyes drawn to one in particular; the blond with the silvery-blue tail. He unwraps the cookies and sets them on the edge of his boat, hoping to draw the merman close again.

picnic, dragon, promises - suggested by @psychiccatpanda

@deehellcat - Steve and Bucky slip away from the village every chance they get to spend time together. Their favorite place to picnic is perilously close to a rumored dragon's lair, but they dare it for its beauty. imagine their surprise when one night as they stargaze and promise forever to each other, a dark shadow flies overhead then lands nearby. It's the legendary dragon, who greets them and offers to witness their solemn vows. (spoiler alert, the dragon is Tony, and I'm not sure what his relationship to them would end up being.)

@psychiccatpanda - Tony hated picnics.  He'd been on so many for photo shoots with his mom and Howard, then for Stark Industries, and the occasional summer charity event.  Picnics sucked.  There was either too much sun or not enough, not to mention bugs, screaming kids, or other couples making out. 

"You promised, Tony," the love of his life reminded him.  "And I got you a surprise." The surprise was a kite in the shape of a dragon. Suddenly, the day was looking better.

@somesortofitalianroast - Steve was walking to a picnic on the beach when he found a baby dragon, abandoned on the side of the road. He picked it up, intending to take it to the local fantasy animal shelter, but as soon as he touched it, he knew he would never be able to let it go. Which is why he was standing on the dunes, murmuring promises to the dragon in his arms.

@rebelmeg -  pepper sighed.  "tony, you promised you were gonna stop doing that." pointedly looking away from her, the red and gold dragon roughly the size of a large dog pointedly opened his mouth, and stuffed the donut hooked on his claw inside.  puffs of smoke emitted from his nostrils and he chuckled in a rough, growly way when a sandwich in a baggie smacked him in the back of the head. 

"we're never going on a picnic when you're shifted again, this is ridiculous."

@darthbloodorange - (Stucky, Fantasy AU) - Steve walks up to the den of the dragon; his once best friend and lover. Baskets of meat in hand, and his heart weighted heavily in his chest. He'd kept his promise for over 70 years, and he wasn't about to break it now. "Bucky, it's me. I know you remember me. You're in there somewhere, I feel it," he says in his elvish tongue. Within the den comes a mighty roar, seeming to shake the very core of the mountain. But Steve is not dissuaded.

bread, defenestration, jingle - suggested by @rebelmeg

@rebelmeg - standing at the window and very calmly eating her sandwich, natasha watched as clint climbed out of the bushes underneath and went streaking for the street, where an ice cream truck was driving past.  the second he'd heard the jingly song, the idiot had flung his own sandwich in the air and literally dove out the window.  wondering if he'd realize he didn't have any money on him, nat smirked.

@psychiccatpanda - (WinterIronHawk implied) To be fair, Clint had not thought about 'costume integrity' or the fact that the Christmas elf pajamas did not count for much in the way of bodily protection.  On the other hand, though, he'd just been planning on eating as much of the freshly baked panettone bread as Bucky let him get away with while they waited for Tony to get home.  Getting thrown through the  window of Tony's Malibu house by some Hydra experiment had not been on his radar at all. (Not Bucky - to be completely clear, he was cute and Clint didn't think mean things about people who baked him a nigh-endless quantity of sweets.)  At least he managed to keep the hat with its little bell that jingled cheerfully as Clint sailed through the air.

@darthbloodorange - Stony (probably a 5+1 fic) - Tony frowns as the familiar jingle of his phone drew him away from kneading his sourdough. He groans when he sees who it was that was calling. He nearly doesn't answer, but Barnes almost never calls, so curiosity gets the better of him. "Stark," the man greets, voice as gruff as ever. "What do you want?" he grumbles. "Arm's acting up again. Accidently threw your husband out a window. He's hanging on about the 26th floor? Thought you should know." "Damn it!" Tony cries, armour assembling around him quickly. He wishes this was the first time Barnes' arm had thrown an Avenger out the window... but it wasn't.

@lbibliophile-mcu - Tony likes bread as much as the next guy, but he is this close to swearing off the stuff entirely. He tenses as Clint moves behind him, his humming looping into yet another round of the jingle for the local bakery. He snaps. "Clint! If I hear another note I swear I will throw you out this window! And not send the suit after you." Clint grins, opens his mouth and... shuts it again. Silent.

Werewolves, Gardening, Hurt/Comfort - suggested by @darthbloodorange​

@somesortofitalianroast - (preserum!steve/werewolf!bucky) When he moved into the house, Steve was looking forward to growing a garden, with a large vegetable patch, all the herbs, and some flowers for the colors. He wasn’t expecting to get overheated. He certainly wasn’t expecting the werewolf to bound out of the woods to take care of him. He’d think he imagined the entire thing, except the werewolf stuck around. Still taking care of him.

@tehroserose - Steve and Tony had retreated into the woods. Obadiah had taken over Tony's birthright, and Hydra had encroached on Steve's home of Brooklyn. They met there, and lived off their wits. Tony did most of the smithing for the various exiles, while Steve gardened vegetables that were rare and valuable. They were content, and while they wished they could save their homelands, there was no real hope of doing so. No hope until one night, when Steve was doing one last check of the garden before going to sleep, he found a big, bleeding wolf.

@rebelmeg - "right here, honey," pepper pointed to a spot in the dirt, and tony padded over, pawing at the spot a few times before starting to dig.  "yep, that's enough." she stopped him when the hole was deep enough, then held out a hand for the flower morgan had cupped in her hands, cradling the ball of roots and dirt with care.  "see, now it's perfect!  you wanna take a ride on daddy now, morgan?  i  think he's getting bored with gardening."

"yeah!"  morgan jumped up with a shout, and scrambled up onto the werewolf's back with no problems.  "go, daddy, go!" with a woof, tony took off at a run, morgan holding tight to his fur as she giggled, and pepper smiled as she watched them.  tony hated going through a transformation during the full moon, the pain of it pretty extreme, but they'd found a lot of ways to make up for it.

@psychiccatpanda - Tony had avoided Barnes since Steve had brought him to the compound.  The werewolf had done the same.  Howard hadn't had anything good to say about weres in general, but everyone knew wolves were the worst.  It was part of the reason that part of the Avengers had been politely asked to leave Wakanda.  Opening the door to his patio, Tony caught the shine of eyes and Barnes scrambled back from what he'd been doing.  Tony scanned the patio and only saw a trowel, some loose dirt, and a flat of plants - wolfsbane. "Doesn't that stuff give you blisters or something?" Tony asked, knowing that it was probably true.  "How about you come in and wash your hands and tell me what you're up to."

@darthbloodorange - (Ults Stony) - After Steve is infected with Lycanthropy, Tony took him to one of his parents' houses out in the country. Everyone expected Steve would get over it, given time, as he did with the vampirism. But the lycanthropy sticks, appearing to have fused with the serum. While SHIELD's scientists look into a cure, Tony stays with Steve. Growing bored of the overly-manicured, emptiness that was the green fields surrounding the country house, Steve takes up gardening as his current mission. Tony watches, completely enthralled, as Steve slowly transforms the area around the house.

letter, basket, book - suggested by @rebelmeg

@jamesbuckystark - Someone left a basket on Tony's doorstep containing a book, a map, and a magnifying glass. Inside the book was a letter dated 1942. He's curious to find out what this means

@tehroserose - Morgan put down the letter. It was the last one. Her father had written her one for every birthday and potential special occasion. This one was for when she became a mother. She couldn't have them hidden away, they were on a basket on her dresser in her room, but that didn't make them any less bittersweet. He left her behind. To save the world, but he had left her. 

 She went to sit in the rocking chair next to her child's crib and began to read the children's story her mother had allowed all those years ago. "Iron Man and the End of Thanos". Any children she had would know their grandfather.

@somesortofitalianroast - When Bucky decided to become a librarian, he thought it would give him access to all the books all the time, in exchange for maybe some shelving. He didn’t realize how much work went into collections development and management, nor how much time was spent looking books up for patrons on their own system when asked if the library had a particular book. Boring and frustrating. He just had to stick it out until he paid off the worst of his student loans. Until the day the letter arrived on his desk, sitting next to a gift basket from a local fancy food store. A letter letting him know that the gift basket was from his secret admirer.

@jacarandabanyan - After waking from the ice, Steve took to reading voraciously to catch up on what he'd missed. Despite Tony's offers, he never did come around to a screen reader, though, and instead opted to keep a pile of books on his bedside table. When the pile of books got too big, he had a whicker basket to put the overflow in. 

 Tony feels like the two of them can't have a conversation outside the heat of battle without devolving into arguments and personal attacks, so he takes to slipping notes into Steve's books. Over time, the notes get longer and longer, until it would be more proper to call them letters than notes.

@rebelmeg - tiny!tony is digging through a basket of new books the jarvises got him, a mix of kids books and textbooks and novels.  as he digs, one of the books falls open, and out falls an envelope.  the letter inside seems to be written in code... but he's also pretty sure that's his mama's handwriting.  a grin spreading across his face, he sits down next to the basket and starts working out the code.

@darthbloodorange - (Stucky? Witch/Fantasy AU?) - Steve sits in his chair by the window and opens his favourite book. With careful hands, he pulls out the letter from his mother, which he'd been using as a bookmark, and carries on where he'd left off. Library, his familiar, jumps from her basket into his lap and curls up, butting her head against his hands. Despite the warmth and happiness he felt here, it wasn't complete. A part will always be missing until Bucky returns.

@psychiccatpanda - Whoever had suggested they stay at this rickety, 'quaint' seaside hotel had apparently never seen any island murder movies ever, Tony thought with disgust.  The wood floors creaked and the building made weird noises at night.  Combined with the crashing waves, it was not what Tony called relaxing.  Somebody knocked and Tony assumed it was the room service snack he'd ordered.  Instead, he found a basket with a book tucked inside.  Agatha Christie's And Then There Were None.

"That's not ominous," Tony muttered to himself, flipping through the pages. Then he saw the letter tucked inside.

[sunonyoreface]

Forest Nymph | Geralt of Rivia Pt.3

Hello!! Thank you so much for taking the time to read my fanfic!  This is part three of my first series and I can’t wait to see where this series takes us!

Warnings: swearing

Word count: 2105

Thank you to @movies-music-series​ for letting me use their gif!

Geralt awakes with a jolt.  His eyes snap open and are immediately alert.  There is no such thing as a good night’s rest for a Witcher.  Not for Geralt at least.  

Something is watching him.  He can feel it and yet, his pendant is deadly still.  He rises with caution and scans the forest surrounding him. Nothing.  Yet he can’t shake the feeling that he’s being watched.

Then he notices you are gone.  You left without a trace sometime in the dead of night.  That’s probably for the best, he thinks.  And yet… Geralt can’t get his mind off of your angelic features.  The delicacy in the way you walk, how your feet barely touch the ground they travel upon.  His mind wanders to your touch, and the electrical current which seemed to surprise you as much as him.  Despite the shock, your hands were soft and gentle.  How he yearns to feel your touch again.

The sound of Roach whinnying alerts Geralt to a possible danger, to which he realizes he cannot see him anywhere.  Geralt’s heart rate picks up at the thought of losing Roach; he starts running in the direction of the call.  His eyes quickly scan the surrounding trees, searching for a threat he may have missed the first time.  After several minutes of searching, he comes across Roach, who excitedly munches at an apple growing from a young apple tree.  The tree is short and easily accessible, with smooth unscathed bark around its stump, the sort of tree that would not normally bear fruit for another five years, and yet, here it is.  Clearly one of your works of art.  Roach must be in love with her, he thinks.  

You left as soon as the embers died and no longer gave off any light. You feel confused and left out of options as to what to do.  If the Witcher chooses not to kill you, then what?  The villagers hire someone who will?  Your options are limited, but right now, you need to get back to your cottage, at least for a little while to think things through.

To the untrained eye, your cozy little cottage blends in with the slightly larger than normal thicket.  Nothing that unusual, unless you know what to look for.  You grew the walls and made them of tightly weaved stalks that keep out the rain.  The trees have since continued to grow on their own to home many smaller inhabitants in their upper branches.  They twist and turn in unnatural angles to allow for extensive windows that let in the warm natural light.  Inside, your floors are covered in a carpet of soft moss.  You almost never wear shoes inside.  All of your furniture is made of natural materials.  Of old trees which toppled over ready for repurposing, uniquely shaped rocks that work perfectly as benches, and anything else you might be able to forage from the bountiful area.  

When you step inside a scent of familiarity wraps around you.  The smell of home.  It’s quiet.  The usual sounds of wind, squirrels, and birds which normally fill the air fade away into the background.  The silence makes you tired.  Oh, how you long for a solid night’s worth of sleep.  So, naturally, your feet instinctually carry you off to your soft, embracing bed. Finally, you sigh.

Geralt doesn’t know what to tell the king.  Maybe he doesn’t tell him anything.  After all, all the king wanted was for him to look into what was damaging their crops.  He never mentioned that Geralt had to take any action against you.  He has a feeling that won’t cut it.  Then again, what harm could really come from telling the king about the dryad?  Geralt isn’t going to kill her, and the King’s army couldn’t find her if they tried. She’s too sneaky, and they're too incompetent at everything they do.  The farmers are too busy getting shitfaced at the alehouse, he doubts they can see past their own feet.  

He was supposed to meet the king for lunch.  It’s currently mid-afternoon.  Maybe closer to late afternoon, he thinks.  It’s hard to see the sun under the canopy of trees.  Either way, Geralt doesn’t care.  The King doesn’t matter.  None of them do.  He has lived through hundreds of kings and none of them stick out as important. They spend their time implementing new policies which really aren’t new, then destroying ones that their past rulers have made and so on.  Nothing has changed in Geralt’s hundred or so years on this Earth.  Humans operate in circles; they always have and will continue to do so until they cease to exist.  Maybe that’s too pessimistic.

Villagers bustle around the center of the town in a lively matter. Why wouldn’t they? Tomorrow is their day of rest and worship; they have the whole night to commit unholy sins. Geralt wonders where Jaskier has gone off too.  The alehouse probably.  Or maybe he is serenading some poor wenches.  What would he think of the forest nymph?

King Cassius of Asenguard lives in a castle so enormous that he has likely never been in every room.  It towers over his kingdom and peers into every grimy rut he rules over.  His people live in the slums while he has never truly worked a day in his life.  Geralt has a special kind of hatred for this kind of man, if one would even go so far as to call him that.  However, his large pocket is quite persuasive.  

“Ah! Mr. Witcher, so nice of you to join us today! I was almost about to send out my cavalry to search for you.” He laughs seemingly in good humour, but the room is tense.  The servants have witnessed enough of his behaviour to know that an outburst is about to happen.  Geralt doesn’t laugh.  He doesn’t even smile.  Cassius’ snarky joke only vexes him.

“My deepest apologies King Cassius, I was too busy cleaning the shit off my boots on your doorstep.  Your kingdom’s full of it.”  Geralt jabs back at him.  The snarky smile is wiped off of Cassius’ face.  He is not used to being talked back to.  While he is technically in charge, the Witcher emanates power.  If things become physical, the King and his guards will stand no chance, and in the back of his head, he knows that.  

“That’s enough, Mr. Witcher,” He drawls. “I just want to know if you have gotten rid of whatever is pissing my farmers off, they’re very persuasive people you know. They even threatened my bread production.  My God, what would we do without bread?”

“I did what you paid me to do.” He responds, the words tight in his mouth through his clenched jaw.

“What so you found the blasted demon wrecking my land, but didn’t kill it? I thought you were the Butcher of Blaviken? The White Wolf? Your job is to kill monsters.  That’s what I am paying you to do.”  The level of threat in the King’s voice raises exponentially.

“You asked me to find out what was causing your little problem.  That’s it.” Geralt spits back.  “You will pay me for my service.”

“Will I?��

“If you want to keep your head, then yes.” The Witcher’s eyes look as though they have turned to flames.  The threat is real, King Cassius, as inept as he is, can sense that much.

“Fine.” He huffs in annoyance. “Then what is it I am paying for? What is the wretched thing eating away at my land?”  

“A witch.”  Geralt states.

“Just a witch?”

“Just a witch.” He confirms.

“You couldn’t kill just a witch?”  Geralt’s hands twitch at his side.  The urge to reach for his sword is overwhelming.

“Just give me my coin.”

“Fine.” he tosses a small bag filled with coins at the Witcher, “Here you go. Now unless you are hunting that witch get the hell out of my kingdom.”

“My pleasure.” But first, he has to find Jaskier.

The first place Geralt checks is the alehouse.  And he is right.  He’s almost scarily right when it comes to Jaskier’s whereabouts, not that they deviate much.  It was the alehouse or the brothel and if he is anywhere else then something is likely wrong.

“We need to go, Jaskier.”  Geralt says before he has fully approached him.

“Well hello to you too!  You just got here, why don’t you have a drink?”

“No, Jaskier, we need to go.”  He is fully aware of the eyes already on him.  The whole village thought he was going to solve their “demon” problem and now he hasn’t.  He has about five minutes before they start throwing food at him and Jaskier both.

“Just relax for once Geralt.  Have a drink! Celebrate! I just finished telling Fleming over there how you are going to kill the thing wrecking their crops.” He laughs unknowingly.  Fleming, a large man sitting only a few chairs over, raises his mug to cheers with Jaskier before taking a large swig of ale.

“I will explain outside but we need to go.” Geralt urges once more.

“I’ll catch up with you.”

“No, Jaskier.” He whispers, “I didn’t kill her and your friend Fleming over there is not going to like that.” The underlying threat is clear in his tone, and finally, Jaskier takes the hint.

“Oh, right then.” A look of guilt crosses his face. “Fleming, don’t you worry, I will be right back!”

They are barely out of the alehouse when a voice calls out from behind an alley.

“Aye! That’s him. That’s the Witcher!”  A man standing with a group of drunks yells out.  “A little birdy tells me you didn’t kill the wretched thing wrecking our crops!”

Geralt doesn’t respond.  

“Well?” He takes a swig from his mug, “Why the fuck not?”

“You seem to be able to handle the situation fine on your own.” He states. With that, they go to leave, but the sound of a sword being drawn brings Geralt’s attention back to the group of men. An odd straggler, likely drunker than the rest of them, honestly thinks he stands a chance.

“Yeah? Well fuck you!” He shouts.

“Yeah!” some other men cheer him on.  This isn’t good.  Before Geralt can talk his way out of this, the man charges at him, sword held high, ready to fight.  Left no choice, Geralt conjures the Sign of Aard and uses it to blast the overly confident drunk and his friends back.  They go flying back, their limbs sprawled every which way, drinks thrown from their hands, until their hurled bodies finally make a rough impact with a ground. That should stop them, he thinks. Time to get out of this shitty village.

Once out of the village, Geralt and Jaskier continue into dusk at a slower than average pace.  The evening is actually quite nice.  Not too hot or cold, almost perfect.  The sky is clear, and the stars will start to come out within the hour.  The birds chatter to each other quietly in the background. Jaskier, while still a bit tipsy, is wound up in telling Geralt about a woman in a beautiful pink dress who was more than happy to have him stay the night in her hot, steamy bed.  Something you could have seen coming from miles away.

Suddenly, a doe jumps out from the forest line, then freezes in the middle of the dirt road.  She looks between them for a moment before sprinting off again, almost as if nothing happened.

“Geralt, why didn’t you get her? That would’ve been dinner for the next week!” Jaskier huffs in disappointment.  While rabbits are easy to trap, he would take venison over them any day.  

Two more deer jump out from the treeline, this time neither pause to look at Geralt or Jaskier, who barely notices their presence.  Geralt pulls back on Roach’s reins.  Roach reluctantly stops.

“Something is wrong.” He whispers to himself.

“What?” Asks Jaskier.  “Geralt I can’t hear you when you mumble.”

The birds have stopped chirping.  The forest is deathly silent.  Something is definitely wrong.  Another group of deer bound onto the road as though the two of them aren’t even there.  More animals now, rabbits, foxes and larger, more unpleasant creatures sprint across the road paying them no attention.  

The wind switches direction and the smell of smoke overwhelms their senses.  Geralt turns around to see the far-off horizon glowing orange.  Sparks explode out of a daunting wall of smoke.  The Asenguard forest is burning relentlessly with no signs of stopping.

---

Thank you so much for your feedback!! I love hearing from yall

Pt.1

https://sunonyoreface.tumblr.com/post/613040114715820032/forest-nymph-geralt-of-rivia-pt-1-hi-this-is-my

Pt.2

https://sunonyoreface.tumblr.com/post/613171373679034368/forest-nymph-geralt-of-rivia-pt2

Pt.4

https://sunonyoreface.tumblr.com/post/613676968381136896/forest-nymph-geralt-of-rivia-pt4

Tag List: @nadia-rosea

[whump-tr0pes]

Honor Bound 2 - 33

This is a series. Start here, continued from here. 

This is a sequel to Honor Bound. 

AO3

Cw: ex-whumper POV, mention of parental death and abuse, fucky (and wrong) thoughts about parental emotional abuse, self-hatred, self-image issues around scars

When Gavin woke in the morning, he had the oddest feeling someone had just been there in the room with him. He looked around blearily, eyes moving around the room, his skin feeling too-tight and warm. Like someone had just touched him. Like he could still feel their hand on his skin.

He rolled to his side, groaning as the motion stretched the still-healing cane marks on his back, and swung his legs off the side of the bed. He scrubbed his eyes with his fists. He felt heavy and slow, exhausted by his night of terrible sleep. Unsettled about the nightmare. Even more so by Isaac’s presence after it.

He didn’t know what to feel about Isaac. What was there to feel about someone good, someone so strong and honest, someone Gavin had hurt so deeply? He still didn’t think he’d broken Isaac. How could he, when he’d seen over and over since he’d found the team how strong Isaac still was? How devoted to his family? To keeping them safe? Broken would have meant Isaac betraying them. Broken would have meant Isaac caring more about keeping himself safe than about his loyalty to them.

Broken couldn’t mean anything else.

But that wasn’t all that Isaac was. He was more than his devotion to his family. So much more than that.

No, Isaac was an entire lifetime of being hurt by the people who should have kept him safe. Isaac was death, and abuse, and pain. Isaac was being trained to be a weapon by the first people to care about him after his dad died. Isaac was desperation. Isaac was protection. Isaac was survival.

Under all that, Isaac was kind. 

After everything I’ve done to him, after everything I’ve done to his family, he still sat with me last night. He still came to me when I woke him up with my screaming, and stayed. 

I’ve been a fucking monster to him and he still at least acted like he cared.

Gavin rolled his neck, blowing out a slow breath. Isaac could have been faking it. Could have been pretending, putting up with Gavin until he thought he could leave without Gavin waking him up again. He could have been coddling Gavin because he thought Gavin needed that now. 

Maybe he thought Gavin was broken now, too. Maybe he thought Gavin was weak.

I mean, shit, I am. 

Despite everything he’d been fucking handed in his life, he couldn’t do what Isaac could do. He couldn’t prioritize other people. He couldn’t push through crazy amounts of pain. He couldn’t single-handedly protect an entire family of people, and ask nothing in return. He couldn’t sacrifice himself the way Isaac had. He couldn’t even sacrifice himself for his own mother. Not even to make her happy. Not even after he killed his own dad, or was responsible enough for it that it didn’t matter.

He couldn’t even stop hurting people, even after seeing they were truly fucking good. He couldn’t stop hurting people just because he wanted mommy and daddy to love him. 

No. It was more than that. He couldn’t stop hurting people because he fucking liked it, and needed his brain scrambled to make him stop. 

After everything Isaac had been through, he’d never become a sadist. After losing both his parents, after being fucking abused by his mother, he still prioritized other people. My parents never abused me. They didn’t exactly love me super well, but they never abused me. 

After being handed everything for his entire fucking life, after only giving up torturing people once the pleasure it gave him had been ripped out of his head with Vera’s teeth, Gavin still couldn’t be as good as Isaac. Sometimes he carried around a hate for himself that went so deep it made his bones ache. Sometimes – like now, his hands pressed to his face, his skin aching in all the places he had hurt and battered and broken Isaac – he felt like nothing. 

But Isaac?

Isaac was everything.

He shook his head to clear that thought. 

Isaac isn’t everything. He’s just one of the first people who’s ever stood up to my bullshit before.

He pushed himself out of bed and stood, swaying for a moment as his head went fuzzy. Ugh. That nightmare fucked me up worse than I thought.

As he crossed to the chest of drawers against the wall, he passed in front of the mirror hanging on the wall. He kept his eyes down like he always seemed to these days. The scars on his face didn’t bother him, he told himself, over and over and over since Isaac had put him in the hospital. Why would they bother him? They made him look sexy. Dangerous. Right?

He ran his hand over his face, his fingers lingering on the slight indentation of a scar across his cheekbone. Across the bridge of his nose. Stretching from the corner of his eye out to his temple. They were so much better than they had been months ago, before the purely cosmetic surgeries had smoothed them out, rearranged his face a little, so it was closer to how it had been before Isaac had fractured Gavin’s skull with his fist. 

He lifted his chin and forced himself to look into the mirror. He forced his eyes to move over the lines on his face, the slightest way his left eye pulled a tiny bit higher than the right at the corner, the scar there puckering his skin. He forced himself to look carefully at the damage Isaac had done so he could save Sam. At the damage he’d been forced to do. At the damage he would never have done, otherwise.

That’s because Isaac doesn’t damage people on purpose.

He pulled his sleeping shirt off over his head and turned away from the mirror, averting his eyes from his body. His body that was completely clear of scars. God dammit. God fucking dammit. Why am I so fucking stuck on this this morning?

He pulled a drawer open and reached for the first thing he saw. He pulled the shirt on over his head. He quickly changed his underwear, and his pants. He turned and put his hand on the doorknob. 

He took a deep breath. He always needed to steel himself before seeing the others. Whether it was Ellis’s glares or Vera’s snarl whenever she talked to him or Isaac’s fucking fear, he always hated the reactions he caused in the others. He wondered, briefly, how long it would take for them to stop seeing the sadist in him, the torturer. How long it would take for them to start seeing the broken fucking idiot he knew he was now. He stood at the door, wearing clothes the others had bartered for from the people who lived in this little town. Even after everything, they were still clothing him. Feeding him. For the most part, including him. He squeezed his eyes shut. Took another deep breath. Pulled the door open.

Immediately the smell of frying bacon and eggs wafted over him. His stomach growled and he licked his lips, head turning in the direction of the kitchen. He closed his door and padded out into the hall. 

As he walked into the kitchen he nearly collided with Edrissa. She squeaked and leaped away from him, all but hiding behind Vera. Vera smirked a little as he walked in and tried to push down her smile. 

The whole family was either packed into the kitchen or seated at the barstools that lined the counter looking in, talking gently and laughing. Isaac and Sam were busy at the stove, cooking breakfast like an industrial machine. Tori was toasting an entire loaf of bread in their small toaster, adding the slices to a plate that was already stacked high. Finn and Ellis were squeezing oranges – real oranges, for Christ’s sake – into a massive pitcher on the counter, a slice in each of their mouths, their lips pulled back over them in giant orange grins. Their faces fell for a moment when Gavin walked in.

He ducked his head. “Um. Good… good morning.”

There was a moment of excruciating silence, the only sound coming from the sizzling food on the stove. The toaster popped up, making all of them jump.

“Morning, Gavin,” Gray said gently from their barstool.

Gavin glanced at them, his eyes jerking back down to the floor as he met their eyes. Every time he looked at them, every fucking time, he felt a sharp lance of guilt, worse almost than when he looked at anyone else. He had shot Gray. With his own hand. With his own gun. And Gray had been the first one to pull Isaac off of him when Isaac had nearly killed him at the safehouse. Gray had been the one to let him grieve his father at the funeral. Gray had been the one to kneel next to Sam in the dirt and comfort him with them for everything he’d lost. 

 He swallowed hard. “Um. Good morning.” 

Sam looked over from where they were stirring some scrambled eggs. “Do you, um, want some coffee?”

Gavin’s face flushed with a mix of shame and gratitude. “Um. Yeah. Thank you. Um…” He lifted his eyes to look around the kitchen. “I could have, um. I’m sorry. I would have, uh, helped, with breakfast, I just didn’t…”

“It’s okay,” Isaac said from where he stood over the pan of bacon. “We wanted to let you sleep. You had a rough night.”

Gavin’s face blushed a furious red. He stared down at the floor, his eyes watering with the depth of his embarrassment. “Oh.” He glanced up in time to catch a look between Isaac and Vera, something on both their faces that he couldn’t read. “Um. Thank you.”

“Now that you’re here, though, lazy-ass, you can set the table.” Vera passed Gavin a stack of plates and silverware. 

Gavin’s fingers fumbled and he nearly dropped the stack. Isaac told them all about my fucking nightmare. He told them I have nightmares about Vera. He told them I’m so fucking weak I asked him to stay, I asked him to stay, why the fuck did I do that…?

He swallowed, looking up at Vera with a hint of terror in his eyes. “Okay.” He walked out of the kitchen to the dining room and set the plates in front of each chair around the two long tables the family had pushed together, end to end. His skin prickled with humiliation as he tried desperately not to imagine everyone’s eyes on his back, imagining them smirking about his nightmare and his fear. He straightened the knives and forks until they were perfectly spaced around the plates, dreading every moment before he would have to face them all around the table, their eyes averted from him, their voices hushed around him… 

Ellis walked by him carrying the pitcher of juice in one hand and some cups in the other. Finn carried some more cups in both hands. Gray came after them, carrying only their own cup. I remember where I shot them. Their wound was worse than mine. 

He walked past the steady stream of the whole family as they filed into the dining room, carrying huge plates of eggs and bacon and toast, laughing, making plans for the day. It’s Sunday, Gavin remembered. That’s why they were eating breakfast together like this. They’d done it that way last Sunday, too. And the Sunday before that.

He walked back into the kitchen to get his own cup of coffee. I should just grab my plate and eat in here. They don’t want to fucking see me. They won’t want me around. Jesus fucking Christ, I wouldn’t want me around… He froze when he realized he was alone in the kitchen with Isaac.

Gavin’s throat got tight with panic and shame as he made his way to the coffee maker. For a moment, he considered turning around and going to his room with his coffee, to emerge when everyone was done. He hoped there would be leftovers.

“What?”

Gavin turned and saw Isaac staring right at him.

Fuck.

Isaac cocked his head, a strange look on his face. “What?” he repeated.

What if I just fucking jumped out the window? I wouldn’t have to talk to him then.

“Um…” Gavin’s voice was shaking. The window was sounding like a better and better idea. “Uh…”

“I didn’t tell them,” Isaac said gently.

The mug in Gavin’s hand clattered to the counter.

Isaac’s eyes flicked to Gavin’s hand and back up to his face. 

“Um…” Gavin’s voice broke. He swallowed the lump in his throat. “W-why not?”

Isaac leaned back against the counter, his eyebrows pulling together. “Why would I?”

“Uh…” The window was right there. “Because… um…”

“I told Vera. But only because I thought it would make her feel better around you.”

Gavin’s face fell into his hands. “Oh, fuck. Oh, no.”

A soft laugh. “She’s not mad.”

“She doesn’t have to be mad, now that she knows, she… she…” Gavin heaved a deep breath. “Oh, fuck.” His head snapped up, a sudden question burning on his tongue. “Did you tell them you… um…”

“...stayed?” Isaac’s gaze was steady on Gavin’s face.

Gavin dropped his head forward. “Yeah.”

Isaac was quiet for so long Gavin thought maybe he hadn’t heard him. He looked up and Isaac was looking at the floor, biting his lip. After another moment, he shook his head. “No.”

“Oh.” Vague relief washed through Gavin’s limbs. 

Isaac looked up at him again. He licked his lips. “You know we aren’t all… waiting for a reason to kick you out, right? Or… or kill you, or something?”

Gavin let out a hysterical peal of laughter. “What?”

Isaac rubbed the back of his neck. “I mean… If you betray us, yeah, we’ll kill you, but…” He waved his hand in the general direction of the dining room. “We aren’t… I mean…” He sighed. “We aren’t all… out to get you, Gavin. We’re not…”

...like me.

“Ellis hates me,” Gavin whispered. “And Vera. And Edrissa. And I understand—”

“Vera doesn’t hate you,” Isaac said.

Gavin scoffed. “Yeah she—”

“She’s my best friend,” Isaac said, his eyes back on Gavin’s face. “I know her better than you do. She doesn’t hate you. She’s wary of you, she’s definitely in line to kill you if you betray us, but she doesn’t hate you.” 

“But I—”

“Gavin…” Isaac pinched the bridge of his nose. “Will you stop being a dumbass for all of two fucking seconds and stop trying to convince me we should all want you dead? We have plenty of reason to, okay? We don’t need you to convince us.” 

Gavin’s mouth snapped shut.

Isaac drew in a deep breath. “Look. This is a weird fucking situation, okay? I get it. Probably weirder for us than it is for you.”

I doubt that.

“But after what you said last night…” Gavin’s face flushed red again at Isaac’s words. Isaac leaned back against the counter. “I didn’t...” Isaac shook his head. “I didn’t know all that. About your parents. About the nightmares. I didn’t realize you, um…” Isaac fell silent. “Anyway. It just… gave me a lot to think about.”

“So… what did you tell them?” Gavin’s voice shook.

Isaac shrugged. “I told them you had a rough night, we talked, and I don’t think you’re gonna hurt us.”

Gavin’s eyes went wide. “You told them we talked?”

Isaac’s eyes narrowed. “Why wouldn’t you want them to know that?”

Because if they know we talked they’ll think I’m fucking lying to you. That I’ve tricked you somehow. 

Or maybe they’ll think other things. Gavin wasn’t sure exactly he was scared about the team thinking about what he’d said to Isaac, but… His gut burned faintly with dread.

“I just…” Gavin licked his lips. “I’m just… worried… they won’t trust me.”

“Fuck, Gavin, I don’t think I trust you. But… I do a little more. Now. I guess.”

Gavin’s face fell into his hands. “Oh. Fuck, I… Fuck. I don’t know what to think. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have… I’m sorry. I didn’t want to wake you up.”

Isaac was quiet for a moment. “This… whatever this is…” Gavin’s head snapped up and he saw Isaac gesturing between Gavin and the dining room. His heart stuttered. “...will be a lot easier if I can trust you, Gavin. I don’t know if I can. Or if I… if I should. But I’m glad we talked last night. I’m glad I know all that about your parents.” A grin flashed across his face. “I’m glad I know you’re scared of Vera.”

“Who fucking wouldn’t be?” Gavin muttered under his breath. He sagged back against the counter. 

Isaac chuckled. “Hell, I’m scared of her.” He shrugged. “We should get to the table. They won’t wait for us and I want there to be food left.” He pushed himself away from the counter and left the kitchen.

Gavin groaned and pressed his face into his hands, bracing his elbows up against the counter. 

Isaac wants to trust me.

Gavin’s chest ached. He wanted Isaac to trust him, more than he wanted almost anything else. 

Continued here

@untilthepainstarts, @womping-grounds, @free-2bmee, @quirkykayleetam, @walkingchemicalfire, @inpainandsuffering, @redwingedwhump, @burtlederp, @castielamigos-whump-side-blog, @insomniacscoprio, @cursedscribbles, @whumpywhumper, @stxck-fxck, @omega-em-z-02, @whumps-the-word, @slaintetowhump, @finder-of-rings, @cinnamonflavoredhugs, @thatsthewhump, @im-just-here-for-the-whump, @orchidscript

[sxveme-2]

hidden / din djarin

description: the life of nobility wasn't one for everyone. some would rather duck under the shadows around them, especially after a great betrayal to the name of a planet. but despite being hidden, not everyone can avoid the blinding lights of danger. whether it be those after those who had escaped, or the poor bounty hunter who ended up picking her up. both with a large bounty on their heads.    follow Cloak as she lives the days as an escaped noble, hiding from the eyes of serenno after the fall of count dooku, shacking up with one of the most sought after child and the mandalorian unfortunate enough to have a big heart.

Chapter One: the one where they were both on tatooine

warnings: swearing

words: 3016

     "where did the princess go?" a gruff voice snapped just meters away from where a girl stood. her typical fine and righteous clothing hidden by a dark cloak of navy, one would typically see a hand-maid wear. an onyx mask covering the bottom half of her face, keeping her identity a secret from those around her.

     "the king said she was seen last near her quarters, come general, let's go look." another voice grumbled. the girl listened closely as their footsteps grew quiet while their conversation fell silent down the marble hallway.

      daring a glance, she peaked her head around the large granite pillar. when she saw no one in sight, she slipped across the hall. the flats of her boots creating a cushion to avoid any real noise escaping from her trots. her head moved rapidly from side to side, ensuring that she wasn't being trailed. tugging the cloak tighter around herself, she pulled the hood of the garment further over her head, ensuring that her face was shielded from any onlookers as she darted down the grand staircase towards the back exit that would lead her to an escape.

     however, she knew that their would be guards at the exit. so instead, she elected to tossing her leg over the window sill and rolling over onto the edge, jumping down into one of the bushes outside of the large palace. the moment her feet hit the dirt, she took off. ducking around trees and rivers, she found her way down into a small dingy hanger a mile or so away from the brilliant white building she was previously in. essentially tossing herself in, the girl stumbled into the cockpit. not moments later, the vastness of space surrounded her.

       and a breath left her lips.

-----

      "you're out of your mind if you expect me to pay that much." her voice huffed, throwing down the spare part back down onto the vendor's table, "fifty credits for this second rate piece of junk?"

      "it's from an imperial starship, Cloak." the old woman croaked.

      "yeah? cause I bought the same piece from madche just down the way." she scoffed, before tugging fifty credits from her pocket and tossing it on the table and grabbing the hunk of metal once again before turning back to her speeder, where the brilliant violet of her tooka cat shone in the blazing suns of tatooine.

      pulling her goggles down over her eyes once more, she took off down the land of sand back towards mos eisley where she was sure Peli was waiting for her return. despite not really being employed by the mechanic, she was very much her one source of reliance. the two shared a bit of a mother daughter relationship, despite Peli never actually knowing the girls real name. however, she was the only person that had seen the girls face in it's entirety over the past five years since she had landed on the burnt planet. secrets and all, Peli Motto didn't hesitate to take in the random girl who showed up on the desert planet.

      swerving through the entrance of hangar 3-5, she parked the rusty speedster just outside of the door leading towards the small area they called home together. tapping her leg, the tooka cat, or more so known as reddan, followed close behind as the door slid open, revealing Peli and her three droids betting over some old parts. letting out a sigh, the curly haired woman looked over at the girl she had essentially adopted, tilting her head.

      "find a job?" she asked, earning a shake of the others head, "any parts?" she continued, to earn a grumble and the clank of a piece of metal against one of the tables, "that's all?"

      "prices have gone up recently in everything I swear." she sighed, dropping down into one of the seats next to a droid.

      "welcome to post empire life, Cloak." peli hummed, tossing a piece of stale bread towards the girl before sliding over a pile of credits, "now, let's show these droids how you do it."

-----

       it wasn't that she hadn't been looking for a job. everyday she would go out and try to find something, anything. she had picked up a few jobs bringing in local thieves or finding the odd lost child.  she'd do some trades and different things but there wasn't much for her to do. she wasn't a saleswoman, she was far from kind enough to do that. she worked as a bartender for a while but the sleezy owner of the bar wanted her to take off her mask and hood, and she would be damned if she would ever do that. she didn't want to risk anything, even if it meant going a day or so without bringing in any sort of money for peli and her.

        until a rundown, ugly, horrid looking ship found itself in the hangar, just before she would take off for the day to find any sort of money or scrap part. peli seemed to be excited about the arrival of the disgraceful excuse for a ship, and she could only wonder why. she didn't exactly plan on staying around long enough to find out who was in the ship, she had more pressing matters at hand. like finding work, even if just for the day.

       "wait, Cloak, before you go," the shorter woman called, grabbing onto the girls upper arm, "stay for a few and meet this guy."

       "I have things to do today." she stated calmly, voice unwavering with emotion.

       "don't lie. unless you managed to get a job overnight." peli rolled her eyes, tugging the girl from the small home they lived in out towards the large hunk of metal.

       she didn't want to be anywhere near the ship. the entire thing made her shiver. it just looked so unsteady. there was so much maintenance needed to be done for it, that a part of her wondered if she should stay back for the day and help peli fix the thing. it looked like it had been sideswiped by one too many blasts and suffered far too much damage to the thrusters. she was well-versed in ships and things. she had always found it intriguing back on her home planet, and would often eavesdrop on the mechanics that were stationed past the place she used to call home. she'd sneak out of the back and past the guards as a child and sit at the side and just listen, and learn. sometimes the mechanics would let her help out, but most of the time they were too scared of what her father might do if they found out.

      "do we even have the materials to fix this thing?" she asked, looking down at the shorter woman as the droids scurried to their sides, all three also seemingly excited.

       "well I'll do what I can with it. not my first rodeo with this hunk of metal. and I'm not talking about the ship." the brunette winked before walking up to the newly open entryway.

        furrowing her eyebrows, she followed the mechanic close behind. her own curious instincts overcoming her hesitant thoughts. if peli trusted this person, then what did she really have to worry about? she was an excellent judge of character. her boots kicked at the sand as she walked behind the woman, awaiting to see this supposed hunk of metal that would, she assumed, be the pilot of the roughed up ship. but what she saw wasn't just simply a hunk of metal, no. no this was a warrior that she had only heard legends about and seen once while back on her home planet. one she wasn't sure if she trusted.

         the person that stepped from the ship, was a mandalorian.

         "Cloak!" peli's voice called, snapping the girl from her trance as she stared up at the new person who had entered the area, "meet mando. and this little guy."

         tilting her head downwards, a warm feeling spread through her belly. two big brown eyes stared up at the hazel hues of her own, with a precious little green face surrounding them. he wore a small toothy grin that made her feel all choked up, unsure of how to react to something as cute. it's ears were twitching slightly and small clawed hands were reaching upwards towards peli. placing her hand over her chest, she let out a soft sigh. walking forward, she bent her head down towards the small child, smiling under her fabric mask.

        "who is this little guy?" she whispered, only to snap her head back when the same  green hands went to pull at the face mask she wore, "grabby little fella."

       "can you watch him?" the mandalorian spoke, a deep and modulated tone, "I have to pick up some stuff here."

       "you know I would never say no to looking after this little fella," peli cooed, puckering her lips down at the creature, "why don't you and Cloak here go out together. she's got some stuff to do and she knows these vendors better than any. she'd get you the best deal if there was one."

       "no thank you." she stated, turning on her heel and readjusting her mask, "I'm going to pick up a job. not babysit a grown person." she finished, readjusting the gloves on her hands.

       "oh don't be like that." peli scoffed, looking over at the man in the helmet, "she'll take good care of you. beware though, she's quick. if she doesn't want to be seen, she won't be. if she really doesn't want to be out there with you, you'll lose her quick."

       "so it's more like I'm babysitting her." mando scoffed, "I'm here for supplies, motto. not to watch over your assistant."

       before the other two could blink, she had slid a knife from her pocket and held it just under the cavil of his beskar helmet. he turned his neck gingerly, meeting her gaze through the the visor. a tense blanket of air draped over the entire hangar.

        "I'm not her assistant." she stated simply, voice continuing to fail from showing any emotion, "and you won't be babysitting me. for all you know I could make those vendors give you the worse price yet you'd think otherwise. don't think this beskar makes you high and mighty, mando." she quipped, sliding the knife away.

         "told you she's quick."

-----

        the two walked in dead silence towards the vendors square. neither mentioning her attempted stabbing a mere twenty or so minutes ago. and honestly, she appreciated it.  she figured it gave him a bit of an adrenaline rush, having a knife pressed so close to his neck. but then again, the mandalorian are rumoured to not feel those sorts of things when it came to acts of aggression, so she didn't entertain the idea too much. both of them moved silently and quickly through the sand alleys, before finally arriving where they needed to go.

        "what are you exactly looking for?" she asked, grinning underneath her covering at the pawing of reddan at her feet. he must have followed her. dropping on her knee, she tapped her shoulder and the feline jumped up onto her shoulder.

        "a transmitter and some spare blankets." he grumbled, glancing around at the stalls.

        "well the transmitters will be pricey, I can tell you that. the lowest I could score for you is about 200 credits. and blankets? those are easy. come on then, metal head."

        the two wandered around the array of stalls. she did the bargaining while he nitpicked every little detail of the blankets. the transmitter was easy, she didn't even bargain and he tossed 250 credits at the vendor. but the blanket, he seemed to be paying extra attention to. asking her how soft it was and if it was itchy against skin. if it was even slightly off, he would refuse it. it confused her, the amount of detail he focused on when it was merely a blanket.

        "we have one stall left for blankets. why is it so important anyways?" she asked, handing a piece of ration she had to a young boy who sat just outside one of the cantina's, ruffling his dark hair before sending him on his way.

        "doesn't matter." he stated, walking towards the stall that had the most expensive blankets in all of the square, "how much are these?"

        staring up at the man through her goggles, she let out a soft sigh, "they range from 25 to 75 credits. made of tooka cat fur." she hummed, resting a hand on the top of her own cats head, "handwoven by nalgi here." she answered, walking forward, "how are the kids, dear?"

        "getting on my last nerve," the dark skinned woman sighed, "may need you to watch them for a day or so soon, Cloak. they listen to you." nalgi sighed, refolding one of the blankets, "now what can I do for you two?"

        "he needs a blanket for his kid. very picky. what's the softest one you have?" she asked, leaning forward and sliding her own glove off, feeling a few of the garments.

        "you're holding it." the woman gestured to the beige blanket she was currently admiring, "for you, Cloak? 40 credits."

        "thank you, nalgi." she cooed, turning her head to the man, "no stains. no rips. fully woven. softer than sand. fourty credits."

        the sound of metal smacking down onto the table let her know the transaction was done. giving a quick thank you to the woman, she and the mandalorian turned away and began their trek back to the hanger. she knew peli would be far from finished with the ship, the thing was a mess. a part of her wanted to ask what happened, but the sheer energy coming off of the mandalorian let her know that was not a very wise choice. so instead the two walked in silence once more, the heat of the two suns blazing down on each of their covered faces.

         "I need the blanket because he's having a tough time falling asleep. I can't seem to figure out how to put him to sleep." mando answered the question from earlier, only earning a nod from the shorter girl, "why do you cover your face?"

        looking up, the girl quirked her hidden eyebrow, "we just met. no need to get personal. hopefully after today I'll never see you again."

        maker, was she wrong.

-----

       now, she knew peli motto was a bit hyperactive. a quick witted woman, and one that tended to push the other girl out of her comfort zone just a bit. but what she didn't know, was that the woman was simply out of her mind. some of the ideas she would come up with surprised her, but never stumped or baffled her. like the one time she said they should play a game of catch with the droids, or when she said they could  use wood to fix the hole in someone's ship. there were multiple instances where she wondered if it was a good idea to land on tatooine and become affiliated with this creative mechanic. but she wouldn't have lasted a day without her.

      "did you two find what you need?" peli called from the inside of the razor crest, "been gone for a bit. worried you may have killed each other on the walk there."

      "I did. thank you." mando called as he placed down his new possessions, rubbing the small green guys head, "your as- friend was actually quite the help."

       nodding, the girl dropped her head at him catching his words. she let out a gentle sigh before walking towards the beaten up ship with a tool kit of her own, figuring she may as well help out the woman. the droids were busy being at each others necks to get much done. she began silently working on the side of the ship that had been demolished by maker knows what. she didn't know what kind of things the mandalorian got up to, but whatever it was had some pretty expensive damages.

       "any jobs?" peli called out.

      "might have to watch nagli's younglings soon. she says they're getting out of hand. she pays well s- "

      "I HAVE AN IDEA!"

      popping her head up and pulling her goggles over onto her forehead, she placed a hand on her hip. the curly haired woman came bounding from the ship, a bright grin and mischievous look dancing in her worn eyes. cocking an eyebrow, she dropped her tool and walked towards the woman who was beckoning the mandalorian over to the two, telling him to bring the little kid with him as well.

       "what's going on?" mando asked, readjusting the small green creature in his arms.

      "I have had an epiphone!" she exclaimed, "Cloak here is fantastic with children- "

     "so I saw." he commented, sneaking a glance over at the girl who stood confused, looking down at the positively beaming mechanic.

      she watched in confusion at the way peli's gears turned in her head. whatever the woman was thinking, she wasn't sure she would actually like what she had to say. usually her ideas were at least somewhat comical, leaving her with a grin or a small laugh. but whatever she was cooking up now made her hair stand on the back of her neck.

      "what're you getting at, peli?" she asked, dusting her gloves off on her long blue cloak.

      if she had known this was where the day would have lead to, she would have simply left without saying another word to the tall mandalorian who had landed in the hanger. wouldn't have even thought about leading him to the square, or helped him find supplies he needed. let along bargain for them. but the following words that were spoken by peli made her realize just how grave a mistake she had made.

       "you should be a caretaker for the little guy and go with mando here!"

[fallenfurther]

Virgil’s second topiary lesson

Another Post Buried Treasure Fic. I just couldn’t have Virgil not meet up with the groundskeeper again, who I’ve named Mr Greene, mainly for his green fingers though I realised halfway through the significance in relation to Virgil. I blame the early shift at work for that one not registering. Enjoy!

****

Virgil landed Tracy Two on the private runway and taxied her into the reserved area. He stepped off the plane into the cool morning air and sighed. He'd been looking forward to this day for a while. It was almost three months since the rescue had cause a sinkhole in the reclaimed land and he was looking forward to seeing it at its best again. He'd made sure they paid for the restoration of the area. The tunnel had been shored up to stop future cave-ins and the ground that had caved in had been covered over and a fresh topsoil added. It should look as it did before.

Virgil was currently driving to the park to meet up with Mr Greene, the Groundskeeper. They'd kept in contact since his impromptu topiary lesson and Virgil had apologised profusely for what had happened to his shrubs. Thankfully the swift work to put the damage right, had put Virgil, and to some extent International Rescue, back in Mr Greene’s good books. Yesterday the new bushes had arrived, and Mr Greene had agreed to let Virgil join him in shaping them. Virgil parked up and headed over to where the groundskeeper was waiting for him.

"I'm glad to see you didn't bring those machines with you." Mr Greene joked as he shook Virgil's hands.

"Me too. Hopefully they'll stay safely in their hangers for the rest of the day. Now, let's see what we have to work with. What's the theme we have to stick to?" Virgil rubbed his hands together. He was ready for a busy creative day and couldn’t wait to get started.

“It’s the same as before, seeing as no one got to see it last time, but thanks to your generous donation there’s more to do. They want three centrepieces for the area that got destroyed and an animal parade leading up to it. There are four trees and seven bushes that need to be shaped.”

“We’d better get to it then.”

Virgil followed Mr Greene along the sculpted paths that ran through the manicured lawns. There were birds in the trees and butterflies flying around the flowers, and with the wind and birdsong being the dominant sounds, it was peaceful. It was hard to believe that beneath their feet was centuries old rubbish and active mining! They stopped at a path that they would be focusing on. Looking down it, Virgil could see the lawn that had caved in last time he was there and the three large bushes that were to become the new centrepieces. Mr Greene stood and pointed to the trees as he spoke.

“The animals along the path will be in pairs, one on each side. First will be the wolves and then the next will be meerkats. After that will be a bear with penguins at the front. The animals weren’t my choice, they were voted on by the local children.” Mr Greene clearly didn’t like the idea of penguins; he’d screwed his face up as he said the word. “The three centrepieces will be a giraffe, an elephant and a gorilla. We’ll start with the path. We’ll do one of each of the pairs, at the same time, so I can give you pointers and advice as we go along. Sound reasonable?”

“Yes.” Virgil smiled. There was a lot to do and he was nervously excited that his work was going to be displayed alongside that of a professional. He hoped the kids approved.

Mr Greene had laid out the tools of the trade by the first bush, and Virgil climbed into the protective overall that had been provided. Picking up the shears he stood by the bush, ready to receive the instructions on how to best shape a wolf. Mr Greene gave him clear instructions, which Virgil followed, though he did give Virgil a little leeway, here and there, to put his own spin on things. Soon the wolves had taken shape, and they swapped to the secateurs to do the finer trimming and neatening. Once Mr Greene had given his wolf the once over, they swapped sides and started on meerkats. A simpler shape than the wolves, and with less leaves to trim away to reveal the animal, they were finished much quicker. Again, they swapped sides, and started on the bears. These were much bigger, and ladders were required to reach the tops. Mr Greene finished first and gave him encouragement from below. Virgil carefully snipped away at the top, shaping the ears and the snout. He wiped his brow on his sleeve as the sun’s glare warmed his brow. Once satisfied, he climbed down the ladder and let Mr Greene up to inspect his work. A few small cuttings, and his mentor was satisfied.

“How about we break for lunch?” Mr Greene said as he reached the bottom of the ladder. “I’ve packed us a few bits which we can eat in the shade of the trees.”

Virgil’s stomach growled in response, his focus on his work having distracted him from his hunger. He hadn’t eaten anything since he’d left the island.

“That sounds fantastic.”

Virgil followed Mr Greene down the path and further into the gardens. They headed into a hedged off area and he found himself in a secret garden with a large apple tree at its centre. Beneath the tree was a couple of cool boxes. Mr Greene sat down, opened one up and handed him a bottle of chilled water. Virgil took it gladly and gulped down the water. It’s cool touch on his parched lips was heavenly. Virgil plonked himself down by Mr Greene as the man passed him a box. Inside were ham and cheese sandwiches.

“I’ve got some sandwich pickle in the cool box if you want some. Not everyone’s a fan, but I love a good bit of pickle in my sandwiches.”

“I’m good. My brother, Gordon, the blond one, is the big pickle fan in our family.” Virgil smiled as he bit into a sandwich, thinking of all the times he’d watched Gordon make one of his sandwiches. His brother always tried fit as much as possible between the slides of bread. As he ate, Mr Greene laid out mini-sausages, tomatoes, radishes, celery sticks and a sharing bag of crisps. Virgil tipped a few crisps into the box with his last sandwich and grabbed a few tomatoes, popping one in his mouth. He avoided the celery. Years of sitting next to Gordon crunching Celery Bars meant he’d gone off it.

“How are you finding the topiary today? You’re doing very well for a beginner. You’ve a real eye for detail, and how you want the shape to be.”

Virgil took the compliment with a smile, “It’s great. I love creating things. I paint, when I get the chance, and I find this is just another way of expressing and revealing the images that can form in your head. At least, that’s how it works for me. I see the image of the bear, you tell me how it should be standing, where its arms need to be, and I picture it in my head. Then it’s just working out how to translate that image into the bush. I’m loving the 3D aspect of it.”

Mr Greene chuckled, and it was strange but good to see the lightness in his face normally stern face. “You have a way with words young man! I wish others saw this like you do. When the area is open to the public, people waltz in with their phones in their hands, gaze and gape, take a few photos then move on. They barely stop to truly see what’s before them, and they certainly don’t think about all the effort that’s gone into it. It’s why you don’t get so many people doing it nowadays. It’s considered old-fashioned and a relic from the days of nobility.” Mr Greene sighed.

Virgil sat back and thought about it. There were parts of it that made sense. As an artist he could appreciate the effort that goes into the production of a sketch or painting, and some of his brothers understood that. Yet when he dragged Alan to an art gallery, he’d whizz around it before getting bored, and Virgil was never quite sure how much the boy had taken in.

“I can see where you’re coming from. But at least they are taking an interest and getting out of the city. This place is amazing, and even if they take just a little bit of that home with them, then we’ve done our job right.” Virgil ate another tomato before continuing, “and just look at this little garden. I’ll remember this moment forever. It’s secluded and peaceful, the flowers have been carefully chosen to highlight the area and bring your attention to exactly where it needs to be to highlight its beauty.”

Mr Greene sat a little straighter, “Well, I did try my best. It wasn’t easy, mind you, to convince the higher-ups to see my vision. But once people come here, they’ll trust me.”

They finished their meal, which was completed with homemade banana bread, while discussing artists and beautiful places. When all was eaten, they packed up and headed back to their bushes. Mr Greene passed Virgil a straw hat, to keep the sun off his neck and out his eyes, for which Virgil was grateful. They made light work of the penguins, and then they started on the centrepieces. Mr Greene asked him to get the basic outline for the elephant done, while he started on the gorilla, which was to stand in the middle. Virgil worked away, losing track of time. He finished his rough outline and got Mr Greene’s approval to continue. Trimming closer, he got out the secateurs and started clipping the detail into the ears and face. He smoothed out the body and trunk, making sure it curved in just the right way. Standing back, he gazed up at his handiwork.

“Not bad. Not bad at all.” Mr Greene’s voice came from behind him. Virgil turned around, a contented grin on his face, and looked at Mr Greene. Except Virgil’s gaze fell on the bush behind the man. His jaw dropped. It was a male silverback gorilla, made entirely from one bush. Mr Greene had managed to sculpt most of it, and it was breath-taking in its detail. The hands were still a work in progress, but it was the face that caught his attention. The gorilla was gazing straight down the path and had such a dignified look on it’s face.

“That good, huh? I have a soft spot for gorillas. Used to draw them all the time as a boy, and although I don’t do it much anymore, I still have that soft spot or the apes.”

“It’s incredible.” Virgil slowly walked around it, taking in the way it had been cut, trying to work out how it had appeared from the ordinary bush which has been there just hours previously.

“Thank you. How about you try the giraffe? Be careful with the neck, that’s the tricky part. I’ll come join you once I’ve finished the hands, and we might get it all done before sundown.”

Virgil nodded, not quite ready to take his eyes of the gorilla. With a renewed determination to master the art to that kind of level, Virgil walked towards the last untouched bush as made the first snip with the shears. Mr Greene soon joined him, and they made light work of it, and soon the giraffe appeared. True to his word, the sun was low in the sky when they had finished. Virgil slipped out of the overall and placed the shears, hat and secateurs into Mr Greene’s wheelbarrow.

“I’ll clear up the cuttings tomorrow.” Mr Greene said as he picked up the cooler boxes and Virgil pushed the wheelbarrow towards the exit. When they reached the carpark, Virgil placed in down and shook Mr Greene’s hand.

“Thank you so much for today. It was fantastic.”

“You’re welcome, young man, and if I need a hand or inspiration, I know who to call.” Mr Greene gave Virgil a smile before heading off towards the groundskeeper’s shed. Virgil sat in the car; his body was exhausted. It definitely wasn’t safe to fly, and he was thankful he had planned to stay the night in a hotel. A quick call to John to confirm everyone was okay, and he drove off. A shower and some clean clothes and Virgil lay in the bed with his sketchpad. Despite the exhaustion, he sketched a few different views of the secret garden, though his favourite was the view from under the tree. He added a few extra details to it before yawning. Another yawn and Virgil knew he was done for the night. He placed the pad on the bedside table, pulled the covers over himself and turned off the light. His mind was full of flowers, gardens and shaped bushes which he knew would fill his dreams. He closed his eyes and hoped there were no callouts tomorrow. He wanted to start on his painting of the secret garden, hoping to permanently capture its beauty in paint.

[witharsenicsauce]

Chosen Stories From the War #8: The Ones Who Lay Dead

He would not succumb.

He would not succumb.

He would not succumb.

Dhar-Mon would not succumb to these urges.

He stared at the ceiling of the chapel, his eyes drifting in and out of focus. The angels painted on the ceiling looked as though they were pointing at him.

He would not fall asleep.

He hadn’t slept in a full day, and with how much power he had, how much he used on the daily, that was almost a death sentence. But Dhar-Mon refused to close his eyes.

He knew as soon as he did, he would see her.

As he sat on his throne at the head of the altar, his guards and soldiers lined up to give him their daily reports. Surrounded by gold and with them a good few steps below him, Dhar-Mon was confident that, if not a god, at least he looked like a king.

This was his domain, and none would take it from him.

*“The commune of Guardia is anxious.”* Trooper 8675 reported, their Etheric awkward and rough. Dhar-Mon growled.

*“Over what?”* Compared to the troops, the way he spoke was like music. Etheric had to come from the throat and chest, not from the tip of the tongue like so many sank to.

*“They believe there is a curse on this place. One family has refused to come for worship, and the others follow suit.”*

*“A curse?”* Dhar-Mon bared his sharp teeth. *“Such a suggestion is blasphemy.”*

*“Yes Madron but...they refuse to follow the Elders’ law. They cling to the dead god.”*

*“If they will not succumb to the Elders’ law, then we must bring it to them.”* He gestured for them to leave. *“Make preparations for us to march on Guardia.”*

Trooper 8675 bowed and departed, leaving silence when they left.

“Do you think you’re cursed?”

Dhar-Mon froze noticeably, his whole body tensing up at the voice in his head. Very quietly in hopes his troops would not hear, he whispered “Go. Away.”

“I’m not a witch.” Malinalli said. “I didn’t put a curse on you~”

Dhar-Mon closed his eyes, ignoring her.

“You need to listen.” She insisted. “If you stay here, you will die, and I can’t let that happen.”

Dhar-Mon hoped Malinalli could feel the doubt he expressed in his face. “You lie.” He whispered. “You humans wish for our demise. I know you, XCOM, and you cannot fool me.”

“Someone very important made us promise to bring you home safe.”

“Who?” He finally said out loud, interrupting the trooper who was speaking.

*“The Codex, Madron. They-”* Their voices faded, then became muted. All he could hear was her.

“Your sister.” Malinalli said. “Kon-Mai. She’s alive, and your brother too. They’re here and they want you back.”

Dhar-Mon froze, but his body began to tremble against his will. He swallowed but a lump began to form in his throat, bringing with it frustration.

“They’re alive and well.” Malinalli added. “...They’ve agreed to join us.”

No. That wasn’t possible. Not the Chosen. They were the Elder’s children as much as he was and...he would never leave them.

“It’s true.” Malinalli said, as though she could hear his thoughts (she most likely could). “Your sister was first, then Gur-Rai.”

His hands were trembling as though he was freezing. Holding up a hand, he stopped the troopers. *“Leave.”*

*“Excuse me, Madron?”*

*“All of you. Get out.”*

One began to protest. *“But Madron-”*

A wave of his fist and the soldier disintegrated into purple dust. The rest did not need to be told twice: they scattered like birds.

Once he was alone, Dhar-Mon sank back into his chair and, with a shaky breath, asked. “...Why?”

“I don’t know.” She replied. “Your sister said it was for honor, the price to pay for being defeated in battle. I don’t know your brother’s motive, if he even has one.”

He fell quiet again, a wave of something...bitter settling over him. “...Are they well…?”

“They are.” Malinalli’s voice was soft. “Kon-Mai had it the worst. She tried to commit harakiri before we got to her. She’s okay though. No lasting damage aside from a scar.”

Dhar-Mon felt his lips pull at the corners. “...That sounds like her. And Gur-Rai?”

“Severed artery and shattered hip. Took him a bit but he’s walking on his own again. Metal detectors are gonna bug him forever though.” She giggled.

“What caused such an injury?”

“He was baiting Dragunova and it ended badly.”

Dhar-Mon chuckled. “I see. It was bound to happen eventually.”

“With how much he runs his mouth? I’ll say.”

Dhar-Mon felt himself about to laugh with her and forced it down.

“We have the Hunter and the Assassin.” Malinalli said. “We need the Warlock, too.”

“Your quest is in vain.” He growled. “I would never betray the Elders.”

“Why?”

Dhar-Mon nearly gagged, appalled at her question. “...Because they created me. By their gifts, I live forever.”

“Did you want those gifts?” She asked. “Did you want to live forever?”

“That is a foolish question. Who wouldn’t want to live forever?” He scoffed.

“Well here’s a thought. What did they take away to give you that?”

This, Dhar-Mon could not answer.

“Do you even know?” She asked.

“...Get out of my head.” He growled. “And stop interrogating me.”

He felt her presence leave, and was left in a silence so deafening, it stifled him.

.

.

Malinalli clasped her hands behind her back as Tygan turned the chips over in his hands.

“These are different from the Commander’s chip.” He noted. “Probably why removing them was so much easier.”

“How so?”

He tapped the glass case that Senuna’s chip sat in, like a museum exhibit. “This one was designed to go deep into the cortex, effectively cutting off signals to the brain controlling free will.” He tapped Kon-Mai’s chip. “This one is different. Notice how the needles are shorter and kind of blunt. It looks like they weren’t meant to cut off movement as much as they were meant to transport thoughts and messages to the brain. This must be how the Elders spoke to them.”

Malinalli took one of the chips. The ends were rounded instead of sharp and pointed. “It looks like a prong...or a cattle prod.”

“That’s essentially what it is. A glorified cattle prod.” Tygan took Gur-Rai’s chip and put it on the counter. “Not designed to block off any functions. However…” He tapped it in just the right way that it sparked, making the chip (and Malinalli) jump.

“A…literal cattle prod.” She whimpered.

“While the Assassin and the Hunter had free will, if they did something the Elders disapproved of…” Tygan poked the chip again. “This could quickly bring them to heel.”

“That’s awful.” She shuddered. “...Do you think they even knew?”

“I’m unable to say. While we might find it hard to ignore, we have no way of guessing how such feedback was perceived, short of experiencing it ourselves.” Tygan gave her the chips back, and Malinalli cradled them much more carefully. “How has the Warlock been responding?”

“He’s talking more.” Malinalli said. “But I still can’t get a location. I need more time.”

“Time might not be something we have.” Tygan frowned. “But do whatever you must.”

Malinalli swallowed and nodded.

“And be careful,” Tygan said. “Psionic communication can be very dangerous.”

“I know, Doctor.”

“Perhaps you don’t.” He sighed but did not elaborate. “In any case, I must return to work.”

“Me too.” Malinalli squeezed the chips in her hand and opened the door. “I’ll check in later, Doc.”

He didn’t answer, already absorbed in his work.

Malinalli slowly retreated to the women’s barracks, turning over the chips in her hands. Was this why they were so willing to join? After the chips were removed, and the Elders no longer spoke to them, were they finally free to decide for themselves what they wanted?  Or had they always had control?

She sat on her bed in the back corner, beside Goldilocks who was taking her afternoon nap before evening training. The rest of the room was almost completely empty save for the two of them.

She wondered what the Chosen were doing.

She wondered what Dhar-Mon was doing.

Psionic communication can be very dangerous.

Squeezing the chips in her hands, she closed her eyes.

.

.

Standing under the cold water his servants dutifully poured over him, the Warlock felt himself trembling. He had never felt such intense cold before, despite bathing in such conditions almost every night.

One of his followers was running the comb through his long hair, gently untangling it, but each pull was beginning to hurt his scalp. His muscles felt weak and his eyes were blurry.

He needed to sleep.

Dhar-Mon waved his hand, and immediately his followers dropped their tools and left him alone within his chambers. He rose from the bath and ran his fingers through his long hair, groaning, and squeezed the white locks hard enough that his hands trembled. Something felt so, so very wrong. Everyone and everything around him was saturated and veiled in a layer of crisp anxiety. How it burned his very mind.

Sleep. He needed sleep. Then the world shall right itself.

He could no longer do without, he decided. If Malinalli came to him...well, he would burn that bridge when he came to it.

He did not bother with his dressing gown before he simply slipped under the sheets and….

.

.

Malinalli opened her eyes to the forest, green and warm. She smelled wine and fresh bread on the air, and the wind blew from the east today.

She heard Dhar-Mon grunt in frustration, only a few feet away, and couldn’t help but giggle.

“Do not laugh.” His voice came from behind that same tree she had left him behind when they last parted.

“I’m not.” She lied, covering her mouth.

She heard him grumble, and he peered out from behind the tree to gaze at her. “I knew you would be here. You refuse to leave me be.”

“This is kinda my job so…”

“Well, I hereby fire you from your job. Leave now, and never return.”

She burst out laughing again. “Were you always this funny?”

“I am not jesting!” She could practically feel him blush.

Malinalli sat down across from him, her back against the tree he was behind. “It’s a lovely day.”

“...Indeed.” He mumbled. “It reminds me of the countryside out in Vinci. I watch the people in their fields; very nice this time of year.”

“Oh.” She perked up.

“What?” He growled.

“I...I’ve always wanted to go to Italy!” She coughed. “And Spain. I’m Mexican so...it’s part of my heritage.”

“You have never seen this place? And yet you conjured this?” He chuckled. “You must be very powerful, little witch.”

“I just showed up here. I don’t know who controls this.” She sighed. “If I did, I would give us some clothes.”

“If only…” He muttered, and waved his hand. Psionic energy danced at his fingertips, but something still held him back.

“No dice?”

“No.”

“That’s okay. I just won’t look.”

They sat in silence for a moment longer.

“So you already know why I’m here…”

“And you already know my answer.”

“Your sister made us promise to bring you in alive.” Malinalli insisted.

“I do not believe you. My siblings do not care about me at all.”

“Is...that what you think?” She asked softly.

“It is what I know. We are not a family, Malinalli. We are extensions of the Elders’, nothing more.”

“That’s not what I saw.” Malinalli scooted a bit closer. “With her and Gur-Rai-”

“Gur-Rai is a fool. And a sentimental fool, at that.” Dhar-Mon scoffed. “Do not trust him, little human.”

She hesitated for a moment. “I could show you…”

“There is nothing to show.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yes...?”

She clenched her fists, willing the air around them to shift, unsure if this would even work. Did she have control at all?

Lo and behold, and the scene around them changed, from the bright forest to the metal walls of the Avenger.

Dhar-Mon shrank in on himself, like a frightened child. “What have you done?!”

“Look!”

He looked around. The place they were in was covered in colorful mats, a few exercise machines lying around in no particular order. On one nearby bench, there sat Gur-Rai.

He heard footsteps behind them, and turned, looking past Malinalli to the opening door, where Kon-Mai strolled in, drying her hair. Her long, curly white hair, now flowing free. He hadn’t seen it down in years. She looked so beautiful with it…

“How’d it go?” Gur-Rai asked gleefully as Kon-Mai sat down across from her brother, picking up a large green band.

“Betos is slightly injured, but I saw her to the infirmary.”

“You’re a kind soul, Sister.” He poked her. “I told you so~”

She smiled, and Dhar-Mon noticed there was no malice in those teeth. “I am not sure if she accepts me, yet.”

“I’ll bet you she does.”

She sat behind him, and he leaned back against her chest and took hold of the rubber band, wrapping it around his foot and holding each handle in one hand.

“Press your foot down.” She said gently as she held his shoulders.

“It hurts like a bitch…”

“I know. But I am here to help you…” He rested her chin on top of his bald head. “Big Brother~”

The scene quickly faded, the sunlight blinding Dhar-Mon once again.

“It’s real.” Malinalli whispered.

“Why?” Dhar-Mon croaked. “Why would they abandon the Elders? After all they have given them?!”

“Because the Elders are cruel.” Malinalli turned around, almost facing him. “They don’t care about them, Dhar-Mon. The second they fell in battle, their chips…” She sighed. “They were ready to kill them.”

Dhar-Mon was silent, a lump sticking in his throat. “Not the Elders…”

“I’m sorry…”

“Leave.” He could barely hold back the tears. “Leave me in peace. Please.”

Malinalli hesitated a moment. “I’m sorry…” She stood. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

The dream faded away, and Dhar-Mon opened his eyes to the darkest room he’d ever seen. The loneliness was crushing him.

.

.

Malinalli slowly and quietly opened the door to the examination room. “Tygan?”

“Any time.” Tygan turned to Malinalli as he hung up the phone. “You’re back quickly. Did you want to report something?”

“Who were you talking to?”

“That’s on a need to know basis, Nurse Zúñiga.” He narrowed his eyes. “Do you have something to report?”

Malinalli nodded. “I made a bit more progress.”

“Do you have a location?”

“Not exactly” She shrugged. “But he’s somewhere in Italy, near Vinci. He let that much slip.”

“That is a tremendous help.” Tygan said. “I’ll deliver the news to the Commander, and tell her to set course for Italy. With any luck, we will get there with some time to spare.”

“Yes…”

“And what else?” He asked. “I am a doctor, after all. You can tell me.” His tone was gruff, and it made Malinalli hesitate a bit. 

“...What...exactly are the risks of a psionic link?”

Tygan sighed. “...I was afraid of this.”

“Of what…?”

“You want to know the dangers.” Tygan powered on his monitor and turned it towards her. “Let’s say two soldiers share a psionic link. Perhaps they have been through traumatic experiences together. With proper treatment it can actually be a boon to many.”

“That’s good.”

“You would think. Now lets say that out on a mission, one soldier is laid low. Or, worse: they die.” He looked over the top of his glasses. “Have you ever felt death, Malinalli? Really felt it? It can send a soldier into a panic or a coma, and in some cases, it will kill them, too.”

“You think I’m susceptible to this?”

“I think you are at significant risk.” He stood up. “As I said, it can be a boon...if it was anyone but the Warlock. But I do not know his mind. It might be very different from a human’s brain, and if that is the case…” He put a hand on her shoulder. “I want you to return the chips.”

“What…?”

“We have enough information that the covert soldiers can take it from here.” Tygan held out his hand. “For your own safety, I’m taking you off the project.”

“But-!” She cried, clutching the chips to her chest like they were a lifeline. “You can’t! I’m so close, Tygan! I can convince him to come without a fight! No one has to die!”

“If you keep this up, Malinalli, YOU will die.” The light hitting his glasses made him look nearly robotic. “He is not worth your life.”

She felt a lump in her throat, her nose beginning to burn as she held back tears. “Please…”

“I’m sorry.” He gestured towards her hand.

Her arms heavy, she laid down the chips in his palm. “But what if they kill him?”

Tygan did not answer.

.

.

Outside Vatican City, The Warlock found a supreme...emptiness. The grassy farmlands of Italy lay open, worked only by ADVENT’s many…servants. As they neared the town of Guardia, Dhar-Mon looked out across the green hills and stopped. For a moment, the cool wind caught his hair just right, and the breeze tickled him in such a way that he felt a nearly human pang in his chest.

*“Madron.”*

He followed his men as they called to him, reaching the town gates as they swung open against the ancient stone walls with a deafening crash. The Warlock stepped through, the light of the sun blocked by his towering form. 

From the back of the congregation, he heard screams. Violent ones, like an animal being torn apart. The townspeople, instead of falling back in fear, surged forward. Some had pitchforks pointed towards him, some only had stones to throw. But they all stood their ground.

Dhar-Mon faltered, taking a step back as his priests surged forward. Their guns were pointed toward the people, barking orders in Etheric.

“They do not understand.” He whispered. *“Stand down. They do not understand your orders…”*

*“That is their fault, Madron.”* His priest said. *“They have had years to learn Etheric commands.”*

But Italian was a language they all knew. *“You must translate to them.”*

To his dismay, his priest ignored him, as though Dhar-Mon had not spoken. Growling, he pushed the soldier aside and stepped forward, speaking in his weak, broken Italian with the most commanding voice he could.

“We are not here to harm!” He cried. “A child would know the good I do for you!”

The people jeered and booed at this, and one old woman ran forward, brandishing her crucifix. “Vattene, Diavolo!”

He stepped back as she ran right up to him, anger like he had never seen blazing in her eyes. “What did you say…?”

“Vattene, Diavolo! Per il potere di Dio!” She was practically frothing at the mouth, her little feeble body seemed to tower over him with the power she held.

“Diavolo…?” He looked around at the anger in the eyes of the people, and felt a rush of dizziness that almost knocked him to his knees. For a moment the world was blurry and saturated, but upon it’s fading, he looked down at the old woman, still screaming before him.

Dhar-Mon felt his body grow cold in horror. They looked at him as though he was a monster. He had never seen such fear in a face before.

He looked around. The rest of the people, these people he had saved, looked at him the same way. Their eyes were glistening with barely hidden tears. Some scowled at him in thinly veiled hatred. They all stood ready, waiting for him to attack. They would defend their home with tooth and nail.

“You fear me…” He said quietly.

*“On my mark!”* His priest shouted.

“No! You can’t!” Dhar-Mon held out his hand to stop them. 

*“Take aim!”*

*“Stop this at once!”*

*“Leave no survivors!”*

*“I ORDER YOU TO STOP!”*

The sound of raining bullets silenced him, and in place of his voice, screams of dying innocents filled the air.

.

.

The Avenger was never fully asleep, but at 3 A.M. it was as quiet as it would ever be. And that was when Malinalli made her move.

She tiptoed over the cold metal floor, wearing only her fuzzy socks and nightgown. It would be a death sentence if she had to run, but this way, she would also be quiet. Maybe Kon-Mai could teach her how to be invisible…

The door to Tygan’s office creaked loudly as she opened it, and she held her breath the entire time, praying to every god conceived of that no one heard her entry. A moment of hesitation later, Malinalli stepped inside. 

She dared not flick the light on, lest she give herself away, so instead she felt around in the darkness for the chips. Of course they wouldn’t be directly out on his desk, but she vainly hoped they were, as she pawed through the darkness.

Finding nothing, Malinalli stifled a cry as her toe slammed into the corner of a drawer. She hissed, holding her breath in a vain attempt to not scream, and fell to one knee. Holding the injured digit, she swore in English, Spanish, Zapotec, and cursed Tygan for leaving that drawer open.

Wait.

She pulled it open a bit farther, shoving her hand into the piles of medical equipment and random files that lay in disorganized heaps (he really needed someone to help him file). It was a stupid hunch but-

Her hand closed around something double-pronged and metal, and she felt just the slightest burst of electricity as she did.

Her heart jumped into her throat. There it was. There it was. She pulled the chip out and rooted around in the bottom of the drawer, quickly pulling out the other one as well. She clasped them to her chest, taking a deep breath as though she were breathing in a miasma. She felt high as a kite, finer than a fiddle.

She closed the drawer and slowly pulled the door open again, wincing at the creaking that was significantly louder this time. She was rushing to get back to her room, and it was making her sloppy. She could feel Tygan approaching his office again, and whether he was or not, she scurried away quickly, sliding on her fluffy socks.

.

.

Dhar-Mon opened his eyes. Back in the forest, by the same river as before. Still bare to the world, the light warming his skin.

With her back to him, there she stood. She turned to him, and he disappeared behind the same tree, but he stumbled as he did, falling to his knees. He shook frantically, his whole body as cold as it had been in the commune, the moment when…

“Dhar-Mon…?” Malinalli was trying to peer behind the tree while still giving him the privacy he desired. “What happened? Dhar-Mon, talk to me…”

“I can’t…” He crawled back against the tree, hugging himself. “Please don’t go…”

She gasped audibly. “...I never thought you’d say that…” She spoke up. “Dhar-Mon, what happened to you? What did they do?!”

“No.” He whispered. “No. The people…” He felt his body trembling. He felt like he was breaking.

“The people?”

“Of Guardia. The people. MY people.” He growled. “They are all dead. Every last one, man...woman...child…”

She sank to the ground across from him. “...They…”

“Dead. By the hands of my own priests. MY people, I promised to SAVE…” He shook his head. “I promised to bring them to the light of the Elders, but they would not let go of their dead god…”

“Dhar-Mon, you can’t force people to convert to YOUR religion.” Malinalli seemed to snap. “The Elders came in as conquistadors.”

His mind lingered on that unfamiliar word. “What is that?” He asked.

“What is…?”

“That word. What is it?”

She hesitated, and from the air around them, he could tell he’d hit a nerve.

“I’m from Mexico.” She said quietly. “What the Elders have done to Earth...you didn’t think they were the first, did you?”

“...But the Elders-”

“We speak Etheric because they make us. We worship the Elders because the alternative is death. Their soldiers burned our churches and relics. You say they preach the truth, but so did those who came to the New World from the Old. THEY thought that the ‘dead god’ you speak of was the one true way to salvation.” She cried. “What makes the Elders any different? Why do you think we call them conquistadors?”

Dhar-Mon was silent. She could feel him shaking.

“...I’m sorry.” She whispered. “That...isn’t helpful right now You’re hurting...”

“I am hurting, but I can still feel. I am not one of the ones who lay dead.”

She didn’t know what to say. “...What did you want to happen?”

“Does it matter, with the harm I have done? Does my intent have any bearing on the lives taken today?”

“You didn’t want this.” Malinalli said. “You’re misguided, is all. You’re a good person.”

“I am no person. I am the Elders’ Chosen.”

“Yes you are, but you’re also my friend.”

He did not know how to answer. Dhar-Mon met Malinalli’s eyes, and she held out her hand.

“Let me help you.”

“Help me?”

“That’s what friends do.” She insisted. “Please.”

He hesitated, then looked away.

“Your sister-”

“Has made her choice. It is hers to make. And now I must make mine.” He curled in on himself. “And I do not want to choose.”

“Do you want me to leave?” She whispered.

“I do not know…” His powerful voice seemed so small. “I wish I knew the answer.”

“I...can’t help you find the answer.” She whispered. “But…” She reached out farther. “May I offer you a hand?”

Dhar-Mon finally looked at her. He saw her eyes as they met his. She was still behind him, and a hair’s length away, staring up at him.

“I want you to come.” She whispered. “Please.”

“I do not care what you want…” He hesitated on each word.

“You’re lying.”

“Does it matter if I am?!” He shouted. “You are a human! A relic of a flawed and ugly world! And I am a child of the gods!”

Malinalli clenched her fists. “No you aren’t, Dhar-Mon. You’re a human too!”

Dhar-Mon physically recoiled, turning to face her head-on. “...Take your blasphemous speech elsewhere.”

“You know though, don’t you?” She cried. “Just like all the others, they turned you against your will! You may be blue and you may have power I can’t imagine, but you’re just like us, Dhar-Mon! You’re just like me!”

“I can’t be!” He meant to shout, but it came out like a whimper. “...I....”

He could hear her sobbing softly, and when she spoke again, her voice was hoarse. “May...I touch you?”

There was a deep, profound silence between the two. A moment where the world was nothing and empty.

“...You may.”

She hadn’t been expecting a yes. Looking over to him, she saw him smile for just a moment, through the tears.

He held out his hand. She laid hers in his palm.

A snap, a spark, and for a moment their minds were as one.

Then Dhar-Mon opened his eyes.

.

.

Malinalli sat on the side of her bed, staring at the chips in her hand. Her breathing was heavy and hot tears burned her eyes.

“Dhar-Mon.” She wheezed.

They were so close now. She could feel his every breath, and it burned inside her chest.

.

.

Dhar-Mon appeared in the Chamber in a shower of purple light, falling to his knees. He was unusually weak. His vision had not returned to normal and as he looked around him, he saw the towering walls not as comforting, but as gates of a prison.

He shook his head. This was no time to be having these thoughts.

An indigo light appeared before him, but this day, only one Elder showed their face. His patron, his glowing light more blue than purple.

“Vox Bhandasura.” Dhar-Mon knelt to the ground, bowing his head.

His patron seemed to smile but Dhar-Mon could feel the sadness radiating off of him. “My son.”

Dhar-Mon waited expectantly for two more figures. “Where is Vox Abyzou?”

Silence, for only a moment. “...She is mourning, Vox Camazotz is caring for her.”

Dhar-Mon felt cold. “...Still for my sister?”

“No. I’m sorry, little one.” Bhandasura said. “Your brother, The Hunter, has been slain.”

Dhar-Mon felt his heart sinking in his chest. Then it was true, what Malinalli said. It was true, the Elders were prepared to lie through their teeth, even to him.

He could not trust them.

“Are you...certain, Madron?” He said quietly.

The air grew cold. Bhandasura’s gaze bore into his son with the power of a drill. “I am certain. I feel their presence everywhere, child, and now I feel them no more.”

Dhar-Mon couldn’t fault that logic. “I see…”

A hand. Something brushed the back of his neck. He blinked, and in the instant he did, he saw his sister, poised in her meditative pose, head back and breathing deeply. She seemed to open her eyes for a moment, as though she could see him, but he saw her shift, and her head fell forward and she sank back into sleep.

He shook his head. Bhandasura stopped.

“Do you have something to say, child?”

Dhar-Mon looked away, still trembling. “No, Madron.”

“In that case, preparations must be made for your ascension when we leave this world. Abyzou may have doubted, but I always knew you would be the best to take the throne.”

He wanted to share the happiness his patron had. This was incredible news, this is what he had been born for. But he felt the cold fingers of doubt on the back of his neck again. He tried to hold open his eyes, but they seemed to close against his very will.

His brother, young Gur-Rai, was limping across the shooting range, favoring his injured leg still. His stance was off and the first shot he missed, but Dhar-Mon watched as his brother easily corrected for the injury and hit the next one dead center. He stopped then, just for a moment, and turned to look at Dhar-Mon before the picture disappeared, and Dhar-Mon opened his eyes.

“Your siblings are dead.” Bhandasura said. “You are our Chosen.”

He was lying.

“You are mistaken, Madron.” Dhar-Mon said. “My brother...he lives, as does my sister. I know they have been taken by-”

He didn’t get a chance to finish his sentence before a searing pain shot up and down his back. He screamed out and crumpled to the ground, purple light crashing over him like a wave.

“YOUR BROTHER AND SISTER ARE GONE.” Bhandasura was almost screaming. “TO DOUBT THIS IS TO DOUBT US. ME. WE SENSE THEIR ABSENCE.”

“But…” He cried over his pain “they...live! I know...I can save them!”

“You are the last Chosen!” Bhandasura brought down the hand of justice even harder, and Dhar-Mon lost feeling in his limbs as he slammed into the ground. “Do what I ask of you! Do not question me, or there shall be no Chosen left to speak out of turn.”

The light faded, but the pain in his skull did not. Dhar-Mon lay trembling on the ground like a heap of flesh.

“Never forget who we are.” Bhandasura said. “Or how much we love you.”

The light disappeared as Bhandasura left, and Dhar-Mon felt his grip on reality beginning to slip through his fingers.

.

.

Malinalli’s scream of pain echoed through the Avenger, jolting Kon-Mai from her deep trance.

As she opened her eyes, she heard the Commander’s door slam open. A white flash passed by as Senuna sprinted down the hallway toward the barracks. Kon-Mai jumped up, stiff from lack of movement, and quickly followed after her, nearly sliding on the freshly polished floors as she stopped in front of the door to the women’s bunkhouse.

Senuna vaulted over the beds to the back of the room where Malinalli was on her hands and knees on the floor. She at first seemed to be looking for something, but Kon-Mai soon saw she was trembling, from pain or fear. The Commander grabbed the girl and pulled her in close, rocking her back and forth as Malinalli blubbered.

Kon-Mai picked up her chip, which had been thrown across the room, presumably, by her nurse. As she touched it, she winced. It was burning hot.

“Sweetheart.” She heard Senuna whisper. “What happened? What happened to you?”

Malinalli shook her head. “Dhar-Mon…”

“The Warlock? Did he hurt you?!”

She shook her head and looked up, locking eyes with Kon-Mai. “Dhar-Mon’s in trouble…”

.

.

.

.

.

(Hope you all are enjoying the end of society!

I might be getting sick, hopefully it’s not COVID-19 (not that I’d know because there’s no tests), but next chapter might be a tad bit late, and that’s why.

It’s been a real challenge to get down Dhar-Mon’s mental state, and the conflict he’s experiencing right now, but I hope I did I good job! What do y’all think?)

Archive: https://chosenstories.tumblr.com/

[pessimisticlatte]

Glass Roses ~ Chapter 15

itHKids Content Warning: This chapter discusses suicide and depression as well as alluding to a troubled family life. I don’t go into too much detail but if you are easily upset or can be triggered by mentions of negative mental health, please be wary and make sure to put yourself first. It would make me really distressed to think that I have triggered anyone or caused negative memories or emotions to resurface so please continue at your own risk. If there is anything you need to discuss, feel free to DM me and I’ll try to respond as quickly as I can. Contacts for mental health services will be included at the end of this chapter.

Adrienette ~ Tom Dupain x Sabine Cheng ~ The wonderful Dupain-Cheng Family ~ Gabriel Agreste x being a terrible father

“You have a boyfriend, Marinette?” Tom’s moustache shook slightly as he looked at his only child with wide, surprised eyes. Juxtaposing her husband’s almost betrayed surprise, Sabine smiled broadly at Marinette and placed a gentle hand on her daughter’s arm.

“What is his name?” Marinette tried to hide behind her fringe to avoid the question, the thick papered letter held in her now shaking hands. She wasn’t embarrassed to be with Adrien but she really didn’t want her Dad to go all papa-bear like he had when Chat Noir had turned down Mari’s ‘affections’. Chat Noir returned those affections now, of course, but that didn’t make Mari any less worried of how far her Dad would go to protect her against anyone breaking her heart.

“A-Adrien,” Sabine tilted her head slightly, trying to conjure up a face to put to the name. A spark lit in the small woman’s eyes as she realised who Marinette was talking about.

“Adrien Agreste?” Crossing the room of the bakery to a small end table beside two comfortable felt chairs, Sabine rifled through a small stack of magazines and pulled out one with Adrien on the front, dressed in his father’s designs from two seasons ago. “This boy is your boyfriend?”

Marinette nodded sheepishly and felt a prickle down the back of her neck. Tom’s demeanor had changed, he’d almost deflated against the cabinet as the corners of his lips curved down in a saddened frown.

“Papa, what’s wrong?” Walking to her father, Mari placed a gentle hand on his large forearm and met his eyes with sincere worry. She knew what was wrong but after having lived with Tom Dupain for nearly 18 years, Marinette knew that her father didn’t like to keep his emotions to himself. There had been a time, once, before Marinette was born, when Tom had keep his emotions bottled up and it had driven him to an edge he almost didn’t return from but some time spent with several different counsellors, repairing his relationship with his father and sister, and telling Sabine the truth of what was making him lash out had made him into the caring, open man he was today. Tom was an advocate for men speaking up about their emotions and accepting that they had them, Marinette and Sabine couldn’t be more proud of him in that respect because Sabine had grown up surrounded by very cagey men and Mari had seen how lack of affection between boys had negatively affected her male friends. 

“You’re growing up, Marinette, and I’m just a bit sad that you are,” There was a small hesitation before he spoke, as if he was trying to choose his words carefully. Normally Tom spoke his mind and spoke from the heart so the ever so slight pause before he spoke told Marinette and Sabine that there was something more than just sadness over her growth.

“I know that’s not everything, Papa,” Mari spoke gently, squeezing her father’s arm slightly so he knew that she was there and was going to be fine with anything she had to say.

“You are too smart for your own good,” He laughed slightly, a strain in the normally whole sound. “I don’t want this boy to hurt you and I’m worried that he will.”

“Why are you worried that he will hurt me, Papa?” Sabine walked to the door of the bakery and flicked the open sign to closed, adjusting the small timer on the door to say that they’d be open again in about an hour. Pulling the shutter down to keep some privacy for her husband and daughter, Sabine gave a small smile of encouragement to Tom. There was nothing for him to worry about, Marinette loved her father for who he was and knew of his past, he didn’t have to treat her any differently when they spoke about her relationship than he would when they spoke normally.

Tom sighed heavily and moved his arm so he could hold Marinette’s hand in his. “This boy, Adrien, is famous and I’m worried that fame may drive him to do wrong by you. You are a sweet girl, a sensitive girl, and you don’t deserve to have someone treat you carelessly,” He squeezed Mari’s hand gently. “I know that I was very intense when Chat Noir came over after you said you had a crush on him and that intensity came from my worry. I was worried that he wouldn’t treat you like you deserve to be treated and then I became angry that he was turning you down because he was missing out on the wonderful girl that my wife and I had raised with so much love.”

“Oh, Tom,” Hearing her husband’s words, Sabine walked to him, wrapping her small arms around his thick waist and pressing a kiss to his sternum. “You are tai di xiong.”

“Tai di xiong?” Despite over 20 years of marriage, Tom’s understanding of Mandarin still wasn’t the best. 

“A teddy bear,” Marinette had been studying Mandarin with Adrien in their spare time and knew enough to be able to ask her mother, in Mandarin, to help her learn her mother’s native tongue. “She thinks you’re a teddy bear, Papa.”

Sabine nodded vigorously as Marinette rounded the cabinet and hugged her parents, breathing in the smell of freshly baked bread and caramelised sugar that clung to their clothes. 

“We would like to meet him before we go to Alsace, though,” Sabine broke the silence, her words definite. There was no way Sabine Cheng and Tom Dupain were letting Marinette go to a big fancy celebration in Alsace without having met her boyfriend first, even if they themselves were going to be at the party.

“Of course you will, Maman and Papa, I can see if you can meet him tomorrow if you’d like?”

“If he has the time, that would be wonderful,” Sabine cut Tom off before he could get his words out, effectively silencing her husband. “What does he like to eat?”

“Um…,” Scrunching her face as she wracked her brain for something easy to make that Adrien enjoyed, Marinette rubbed her lips together slightly. There’s no way her mother and father weren’t going to make something just for Adrien but she knew that her boyfriend wasn’t a huge fan of people going out of their way to do special things for him. He’d led a pampered life and knowing that people had put heaps of effort into even small things made him uncomfortable; he’d tried to give the scarf she’d made him for his birthday several years ago back after he’d found out that she’d made it specially for him because he felt like she deserved the keep something she’d put so much time and love into. It had taken her almost two weeks to convince him to keep it and now he wore it as much as he possibly could. “He likes banana bread?”

“You sound unsure,” Of course Tom had noticed how long it had taken Marinette to think of something. “But we’ll make banana bread anyway.”

“Thank you, Papa,” Mari’s voice was slightly strained as Tom began squeezing his daughter and wife into one last hug, smiling broadly before letting go and escaping back to the kitchen.

“He is a good man, your father,” Sabine wrapped her arms around Marinette, hugging her daughter as the sound of Tom’s baking hum began to rise from the kitchen behind them. “We are lucky to have him.”

“I know, Maman,” Resting her cheek against her much shorter mother’s temple, Mari enjoyed the nurturing presence that came with such an embrace. “I’m glad that he’s still here.”

Pulling back slightly, Sabine rested a rough hand against Marinette’s cheek and smiled sadly up at her daughter. “If he wasn’t here, we wouldn’t have you and you make both of us very happy, Marinette. I know that he still struggles with his depression sometimes, and it can be a very hard thing, but we gave him something to live for, Gongzhu, and I thank the heavens everyday that I wake up with him by my side,”

Marinette couldn’t think of anything to say. She knew her father’s story and she knew that Sabine had nearly lost him so many years ago but the thought of her cheerful father being so low and so lost that he didn’t feel the need to be alive anymore was jarring. 

“Your name has meaning for him. It has meaning for me too but I chose your name to remind him how far he has come every time he says it,”

“Marinette means ‘of the sea’, it’s derived from the word ‘marine’, right?” Sabine nodded.

“Cheng, the way my family pronounces it means completed, succeeded or finished, though there is a similar pronunciation that means sincere, honest and true that I made sure your father knew about because he is the most sincere, true man I have ever met in my life,” The two women turned toward the open door of the kitchen as Tom walked past it with a jolly whistling tune as he moved baked bread out of the oven and onto a cooling tray. “You are succeeded of the sea because the sea is where I nearly lost him but it is also where he found himself again. Your birth marked a turning point for him, he was finished with the side of his life that had only ever damaged him and was now ready to begin a life with people who will always love him, support him, stay with him. You saved him as much as I did because he wanted to be a better father than the one he’d had.”

Wiping an escaped tear from her cheek, Marinette watched her father bustle back and forth as he worked, her mind drifting to Adrien. Tom and Adrien had common ground in lacking good father figures, so maybe there was more than just Marinette’s love for her to offer him. Maybe she could give him the family he deserved, the family he’d been deprived of because of Gabriel’s selfishness.

“Adrien’s father isn’t much of a father, Maman,” The words were whispered, Marinette tried not to feel guilty for speaking them. “Gabriel Agreste is Hawkmoth.”

If Sabine was surprised, her kind features didn’t show it. “A-Adrien and I are Ladybug and Chat Noir,”

“I know, Gongzhu, I already know,” 

“Y-you know that Adrien and I are...are Ladybug and Chat Noir?”

“I have known for a long time,” Sabine spoke gently. “Master Fu was known to me before he was known to you, my great-grandfather was a guardian of a miraculous box which my cousin now guards with his life and it is common for guardians to know each other as well as each other’s families. I met Master Fu when I was barely older than you are now, I knew of what he guarded and what the Ladybug and Cat miraculouses could do if joined. When I suspected that he had given you the Ladybug, I visited him and he confirmed it for me, I did my best to make sure you were able to leave the house when you needed to so you could protect us.”

“You’re incredible, Maman,”

“Thank you, my darling,” A warm smile curved on Sabine’s lips as a faint crimson began to flare on her cheeks, Sabine had never been the best at receiving compliments even if they came from her family and Mari would never know how much those words meant to her in that moment. “Your father does not know though and I don’t recommend that you tell him as it would heighten his worry for you. I am very proud of you, though, my little piao chong, you have gone above and beyond what you needed to, you have protected so many people and saved so many lives.”

Marinette pulled her mother into another hug, holding back tears at the genuine pride she could hear in her mother’s voice.

“Thank you so much,” Hiccuping slightly, Mari squeezed Sabine, who squeezed back. “Thank you so, so, so, so much.”

“You are the light of our lives, Marinette, and there is not a day that goes by that we aren’t proud of the woman you are becoming,”

~~~~~~~~~

Mental health services: Lifeline Australia: 13 11 14 Kids Helpline Australia: 1800 55 1800 Suicide Prevention Lifeline America: 1 800 273 8255 Hopeline America: (800) 422 4673 Samaritans UK: 08457 90 90 90 Hopeline UK:  0800 068 4141 Samaritans ROI: 115 123 Hopeline ROI: 0808 808 8000 Lifeline New Zealand (Auckland): 09 5222 999 Lifeline New Zealand (Everywhere else): 0800 543 354 European Emergency Number: 112 Samaritans Italy: 800 86 00 22 Lifeline South Africa: 0861 322 322 Befrienders International Tokyo: +81 (0) 3 5286 9090 BI Suicide Prevention Centre Osaka: +81 (0) 6 4395 4343 Checkpoint.Org: https://checkpointorg.com/global/

~~~~~~~~~TAGLINE~~~~~~~~ @lady-charinette @katieykat513 @maniic-pixie-dream-girl @mochegato @aussie-lesbian @itwasmydog @imgaydontshoot @beauty-and-her-books @camelliaflwr @a-star-with-a-human-name @nifflerstorm @severalverysmallmangoesinabasket @hnbutt 

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[amarabliss]

Fusion -(Arthur Curry/Reader)

A terrible accident has interesting consequences when Arthur gives you blood...

Arthur stumbled as the waves slammed into the back of his legs. He regained his footing quickly ensuring that you didn’t drop from his arms. Quickly he got you to the beach setting you down as the sun rose slowly over the dunes.

Stupid, stupid, stupid! He thought to himself as he put pressure around the harpoon jutting from your chest. 

Your lips were turning blue as his own panic began to sit in. He shook his head, “No, no, no, Y/N open your eyes.”

“Arthur!” He didn’t take his eyes off, of you as Mera and Vulko struggled up onto the beach.

Mera reached him first dropping to her knees. Vulko came up just after, “Arthur are you alright? Were you hit?”

“Help her.” Arthur looked up to his mentor who paled when he came up on the scene, “Vulko, please help her.”

The older Atlantean stared into his king’s eyes. He saw a young man desperate for anyone to help someone he loved. He had warned Arthur that bringing a full-blooded human below the sea would be trouble even if it was just off her boat for small dives. 

Vulko also knew the heart wants what it wants, and who was he to stop his king from happiness, when his previous queen now resided on land. He knelt next to you assessing the wound quickly, “Mera, we will weed for wraps, and algae greenest you can find...be quick.”

Arthur followed Mera with his eyes as she ran off until a moan came from you. His eyes snapped back to you as Vulko pressed around the wound, “Is it bad?”

Vulko took a deep breath in before looking at him, “I fear the harpoon may have struck her lung...while our anatomies are similar, our abilities to heal is different.”

“What are you saying?” Arthur frowned his hand resting on yours as he anticipated the answer.

“I may...be able to make her comfortable, my king.” Vulko looked at him with sorrow, “But I fear the wound may have caused too much blood loss and damage to her lung.”

“No…” Arthur shook his head, “there has to be something more you can do.”

Vulko shook his head, “I am sorry, my king…we do not have the supplies or the proper tools. Maybe if we had human blood, I could sustain her…”

Mera came back holding everything in her arms, “I found what I could and can get more if it’s needed.”

“Good…” Vulko began rolling up his sleeves, “I will need your help to take out the harpoon and packing the wound…”

“Wait…” The two Atlanteans stopped looking at him, “Taking out the harpoon will cause more bleeding, you said she already lost too much…”

Vulko took in a breath, “Yes…but if we leave it in there is greater chance of infection. If there is any chance it did not puncture her lung, this is the best option.”

“What if we gave her my blood?” They both looked at him shocked.

“You’re an at Atlantean…” Mera shook her head.

“And human.” Arthur corrected her.

“Arthur,” Vulko stared at him intensely, “using your blood could very well kill her. Even if you were a full-blooded human. You may not match her type…”

“Y/N is already dying.” He felt his jaw clench as he stared at the two, “I have to believe that there is a chance to get her help. Please…try…”

The pair looked at each other before Vulko nodded, “I will need reeds…the ones…”

“I know.” Mera nodded, “I saw some, I’ll be right back.”

“Thank you…” Arthur whispered as he watched the pair begin working on a different approach.

It took them over an hour to get the supplies needed to set everything up. Another one to perform the procedure. He felt weak but seeing color in your face was worth the woozy feeling.

Vulko reached over taking out the reed feeding his blood into your system, “That is all I am willing to allow.”

“How is she?” Arthur leaned against the rock they had moved to for cover.

His mentor frowned, “I cannot be certain, but her heart rate has steadied.”

“That’s good though right? It was racing…” Arthur blinked several times.

Vulko bandaged your arm before nodding, “Generally yes…but I am still not hopeful, Arthur.”

Arthur frowned his eyes looking down to your face as you rested. Your cheeks were pink, a good sign of a fever. He didn’t want to lose you. Not when he had so much he wanted to tell you.

“Eat this and rest.” Mera handed him what looked like some sort of sushi roll. He still was not use to an Atlantean diet, but it was nice that food was always around, “I will wake you if you something changes. I promise.”

After some protest and insisting that he was fine he gave into their demands. There was nothing he could do anyways except wait. Rest came fast when he shut his eyes listening to the crashing waves on the shoreline. He dreamed of you, your smile, on your boat enjoying time with him. He wished that was how the day had gone, not chasing pirates and poachers seeking glory in taking down Aquaman.

He woke feeling the sun on his face as it began to set in the sea. He wiped a hand over his bread taking in a deep breath cracking his neck as he looked to where you were laying. Panic gripped his chest seeing an empty place in the sand.

“Y/N…” He rolled to his knees quickly scanning the beach. His heart leapt to his throat when he saw you standing at the waters edge a ways down. Quickly he got up running toward you, “Y/N! You shouldn’t be standing…Vulko was sure…”

“He and Mera went back to Atlantis…” You interrupted him your voice steady and strong, “He said he needed to get a scanner and Mera wanted to inform everyone that you alright.”

“Did Vulko say…you would be okay?” He stopped next to you glancing out at the sea trying to see what you were looking at, “You were in pretty rough shape…”

“That’s why he went to get a scanner…” When you turned to him his mouth dropped open slightly. Your complexion was a healthy one and your wound looked healed, if anyone had happened by they would think that you were perfectly fine and somehow ripped your shirt.

He knew you though and saw the difference instantly. Your perfect eyes now held a soft aqua glow. Similar to Mera’s when she used her hydrokinesis, but never waning. Much like how his eyes changed when he was younger. He didn’t know what to say.

When he didn’t speak you turned your gaze back to the ocean, “They told me you gave me your blood. Vulko is hoping that whatever is happening good…but he wants to be sure.”

“Y/N…I…” He licked his lips. He couldn’t tell if you were upset or alright with the situation, “I didn’t want to lose you because of some idiot trying to make a name for himself.”

You didn’t say anything for a long time. Finally, you took in a deep breath, “Is this what you feel all the time?”

“What?” He stepped closer to you concerned.

“I don’t know.” You squinted as you struggled trying to find the words, “I can’t put my finger on it…but it’s like you can feel everything. You can feel all the life…”

He felt a small smile creep to face as he began to nod. He knew what you meant as soon as you said it, “Uh…yeah…that’s definitely one way to put it.”

“Huh…” You crossed your arms across yourself as you continued to stare out past the horizon.

“You can really feel that?” You nodded your hair bouncing gently in the sea breeze. He’d always wanted to share this connection with you. He always tried to explain it and you always tried to understand but never quite grasped the concept.

He wondered what else had changed. Scratching the back of his head, “How are you feeling otherwise?”

“Good.” You looked at him and smiled, “Better then good actually. A little sad…I think my boat sank…Thank god for insurance, right?”

He chuckled with you before another thought crossed his mind, “Why don’t we go find it?”

“What? How?” You made a face as he raised his eyebrows, “Whoa…Arthur you’re not really suggesting that…that I can…”

“Why not?” He smirked a little, “You claim you can feel the ocean…your eyes say you might be changed…”

“Yeah but we don’t know how long…if anything…” You shook your head at him.

“You’re not curious.” He prodded.

“Of course, I am.” Your eyes shot to his as you smiled, “You know how much I’ve wanted something like this to happen to me. How much I wanted to share this side of you with me…but I just…This morning I was dying…and now…I don’t even know what I am.”

He could see how scared you actually were now causing him to frown before he pulled you into a tight hug, “Y/N, I will make sure you are okay. Nothing will ever change that.”

You hugged him back for a long time before you spoke into his chest, “Mera said you were really scared.”

He felt his chest tighten and his ears instantly get warm, “Did she now?”

“Thank you, Arthur…” You pulled away enough to give him a kiss on the cheek, “I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for you.”

“Actually, you wouldn’t be here at all if I hadn’t taken you out yesterday morning…” He looked down into your eyes watching them widen, “You took that harpoon for me…”

“I made that choice…I would do it again. You’re important…you’re a king…” You smiled at him, “I’m just a teacher…”

“Don’t say that…” He reached up cupping your face with his hands, “You are important…”

You laughed and shook your head, “I think my students would disagree.”

“You’re important to me.” He watched your smile fade slowly as he continued, “I should have told you…a long time ago…There is nothing…no one, in this world that matters more to me then you. I love you. I loved you before I was a king…before I was a hero…when I was just a drunk that you’d serve in that shit bucket of a bar.”

“Arthur…I…”

“Let me finish…please…” He interrupted you letting his hands drop to his sides, “Before everything a year ago…just after Batman…and all that crazy shit. I just wanted to come home and find you. When I did, I was too late…You finally got that job that was going to take you places…take you away from Amnesty Bay and I let you go.”

“I thought for sure you’d forget about me, but you didn’t. You called…I never answered. You visited and I was a jerk…” He smiled a little thinking about Diana being his drinking buddy for a day, “I got some advice from a princess who came to check in on me when I was still figuring things out after aliens. She knocked some sense into me…literally. So, when you called again…I answered.”

“And I kept answering. You helped me figure everything out…that I actually wanted to help people.” He looked out at the ocean, “And you were worried during the entire war…asking if you could do anything. Every time I said I didn’t want to be king…you told me to follow my heart, and I did. Now…I rule the seven seas, but my heart was on land.”

You swallowed staring at him for a moment before smirking a little, “Are you finished?”

He nodded taking in a deep breath through his nose, “I’m sure I could keep going…but it’s pretty much all there…shoulda, coulda, woulda, was an idiot, now I’m king idiot…”

You laughed shaking your head making him smile, “Arthur…I wish you would have said something a long time ago.”

“Would it have stopped you from leaving?” He questioned you quickly.

“Probably.” You nodded your smile still lighting up your eyes. It was nice to know this new change hadn’t stopped that from showing, “Arthur, there hasn’t been anyone except you…since high school.”

It was his turn to listen and he did so attentively, “I’ve always loved the ocean. You know that. Moving to Massachusetts was a dream come true from Idaho. Moving schools wasn’t, but you made it so much easier. We were both outsiders. Then you shared your secret with me, and I was so amazed because you could do what I always wanted. Live in the ocean.”

“You know, I still have all the things you brought me…well I did…” You looked down frowning a little, “they were on the other boat, but people would ask where I got them…things from the deepest parts of the ocean. Most assumed I order everything online, but I knew, and I’d call after. I just wanted to tell you I was thinking of you. Of skipping high school to steal a boat and go diving…having you bring me samples for my research projects to impress my professors…getting caught in that storm…”

A memory flashed of the pair of them running up into cave off the beach from a freak storm.  He’d shared a kiss with you that day, but then they never talked about it. He thought he made a mistake, and you weren’t interested. But seeing your face now, turning red in the setting sun as you remembered yourself, he knew it meant more.

“You were my one regret, Arthur.” You hugged yourself looking up at his face again, “I didn’t think such a person like you would ever…anyways…before you left with Batman, I was going to ask you to move to Florida with me. Change of scenery might help us both, and then aliens happened. You became more then Arthur Curry…you became Aquaman…and I thought leaving was the best option.”

“But I could never shake you. You haunted me almost. Teaching marine biology, I kept hearing stories of a lost city…a man capable of crazy feats in the ocean. Of course, I knew it was you and Atlantis.” You nodded slowly remembering, “I even dated…but they weren’t you. No one could make me laugh like you, so when you finally answered the phone I was startled. Then when you said yes to visiting, I was dreaming…”

You looked down kicking the sand, “The fact was I loved you and I let you go…and now you’re a king...and you shouldn’t…”

“Y/N…” He reached for you, but you stepped away. The simple action caused a pain in his chest.

“Arthur,” You looked into his eyes tearing up, “really…we shouldn’t…”

“Is it that I’m at Atlantis more often? Is it distance that’s pushing you away from trying?” He asked you quietly, “I’ll make the trips…everyday if I have to.”

“It’s not…” You shut your eyes, “It’s hard enough for you already. You constantly tell me that. I don’t want you to worry about me here all the time.”

“I want to worry.” He reached down taking your hand in his.

“A king shouldn’t…”

“This king will!” He snapped at you making you fall silent, “I’m not just an Atlantean. I’m not just King of Atlantis…I’m King of the Seven Seas. I reign over all of them…which kind of makes me king of the world since the world is mostly ocean…”

A reluctant smile found your lips as you shook your head as you pointed to your eyes, “What if this changes me?”

“I think it will only bring us closer.” He reached for your other hand drawing you toward him. He let his head rest against yours as he stared into your eyes, “I’m not letting you go again…and I will fight everyone and everything to be with you because I love you.”

You opened your mouth to speak but Vulko came into view behind Arthur, “I told you to rest!”

“I knew it…” Arthur moved to the side, “I told her rest…I knew that you’d want her to…”

Vulko quirked an eyebrow, “I’m sure, your majesty…I’d like to do a few procedures if you’re up to it Y/N.”

“Of course.” You nodded stepping away with him toward the shade of some palm trees.

Arthur followed behind slowly and uneasy feeling settling in his stomach. He could tell your feelings were real. You did in fact love him, but your humanity was keeping you from accepting his love. While he didn’t want you change a thing…there was a small hope that maybe this tragic event would allow you be closer to him in ways he never thought possible.

Vulko ran a few test, took some blood, and came to only one conclusion, “As far I can see it… you are…for all intents and purposes…part Atlantean.”

“…how? That shouldn’t…” You shook your head.

“I intend to figure it out. For now…I suggest you not push yourself.” Vulko’s eyes shifted to Arthur who smirked in return, “And if you do…replenish your energy and rest. I will be in Atlantis with our scientist.”

“Thank you Vulko…” You gave him a small smile as he packed up.

“Of course. Who Arthur considers family…is our family.” Vulko smiled at him as he bowed and turned heading back into the sea.

Arthur watched you stand up and turn to him as he smiled, “So…wanna go find your boat?”

[relnhart]

Tagged by @li-bot-art

—    bold  all   physical   traits   that   apply   to   your   muse.

eyes (general):   large  /   small   /   narrow   /   sharp  /   squinty   /   round   /   wide-set   /   close-set   /   deep-set  /   sunken   /   bulging   /   protruding   /   wide  /   hooded   /   heavy-lidded   /   bright /  feverish  /  sparkling  /   glittering  /   flecked   /   dull   /   bleary   /   rheumy   /   cloudy   /   red-rimmed   /   beady   /  bird-like  /   cat-like   /   jewel-like   /   steely   /   hard   /  long lashes   /  sweeping eyelashes   /   thick eyelashes

eyes (color):   chestnut   /   chocolate brown  /   cocoa brown   /   coffee brown   /   mocha   /   mahogany   /   sepia   /   sienna brown   /   mink brown   /   copper   /   amber   /   cognac   /  whiskey   /   brandy   /   honey   /    tawny   /   topaz   /   hazel   /   obsidian   /   onyx   /   coal   /   raven   /   midnight   /   sky blue   /   sunny blue   /   cornflower blue   /   steel blue   /   ice blue   /   arctic blue   /   glacial blue   /   crystal blue   /   cerulean   /   electric blue   /   azure   /   lake blue   /   aquamarine   /   turquoise   /   denim blue   /   slate blue   /   slate gray   /   storm blue   /   amethyst  /   storm gray   /   silver   /   silver gray   /   chrome   /   platinum   /  white /  pewter   /   smoky gray   /   ash gray   /   concrete gray   /   dove gray   /   shark gray   /   fog gray   /   gunmetal gray   /   olive  /   emerald  /   peridot  /   a loud green  /  leaf green   /   moss green   /   soft pink   /   seafoam   /  damaged (white/blood flecked) ((ruby / hetochromia))

eyebrows:   arched  /   straight   /   plucked  /   sparse   /   trim   /   dark   /   faint   /   thin   / thick   /   unruly   /   bushy   /   heavy / defined

skin (general): lined /   wrinkled  /   seamed   /   leathery   /   sagging   /   drooping   /   loose   /  clear  /   smooth  /   silken   /   satiny  /   fine-grained   /  dry  /   flaky   /   partially scaly   /  delicate   /   thin   /   translucent   /   luminescent   /   baby-soft    /   small pores   /   large pores   /   glowing   /   dewy   /   dull   /   velvety /   fuzzy   /   rough   /   farmer’s tan   /   mottled   /   dimpled   /   doughy   /   firm   /   freckled   /   pimply   /   pockmarked   /   blemished   /   pitted   /   scarred   /   bruised   /   veined   /   scratched   /   sunburned   /  weather-beaten  /   raw   /   tattooed

skin (color):     amber   /   bronze   /   cinnamon   /   copper   /   brown  /  dark brown   /   deep brown   /   ebony   /  dark honey   /   golden   /   pale   /   pallid   /   pasty   /   fair  /   light   /   cream   /  alabaster   /   ivory   /   bisque   /   milk   /   porcelain  /   chalky   /   sallow   /   olive   /   peach   /   rosy   /   ruddy   /   florid   /   russet   /  tawny   /   fawn   /   dark blue /  blueish-grey

face structure:    square   /   round   /   oblong   /   oval  /   elongated   /  narrow /   heart-shaped   /   cat-like   /   wolfish   /   high forehead  /   broad forehead   /   prominent brow ridge   /   protruding brow bone   /   sharp cheekbones   /   high cheekbones   /  angular cheekbones   /   hollow cheeks   /   square jaw  /   chiseled   /   severe  /   craggy  /   soft /   jowly   /   jutting chin   /   pointed chin /   weak chin   /   receding chin   /   double chin   /   cleft chin   /   dimple in chin   /   visible adam’s apple

nose:  snub /   dainty  /   button   /   turned-up   /   long  /   broad   /   thin   / straight   /  pointed   /   crooked   /   aquiline   /   roman   /   bulbous   /   flared   /   hawk   /   strong  / sharp

mouth/lips: thin /   narrow   /   full /   lush   /   cupid’s bow /   wide   /   rosebud   /   dry   /   cracked   /   chapped    /   moist   /   glossy   /   straight teeth   /  crooked lower teeth   /   gap between teeth   /   white teeth /   yellowed teeth   /   braces   /   overbite   /   underbite   /  dimples   /  

facial hair: clean-shaven   /   smooth-shaven  /   beard   /   neckbeard   /   goatee   /  moustache   /   sideburns   /   mutton-chop sideburns   /   stubble   /   a few days’ growth of beard   /   five o’ clock shadow  /

hair (general): long   /   short  /   shoulder-length   /   loose   /   limp   /   dull   /   shiny   /  glossy /   sleek  /   smooth /   luminous  /   lustrous   /   spiky /   stringy    /   shaggy   /   tangled   /   messy    /   windblown (often)   /   unkempt   /   straggly   /  neatly combed  /   parted   /   slicked down   /   tied back   /  slicked back   /   cropped   /   clipped   /   buzzed   /   buzz cut   /  curly   /   bushy  / wavy /  straight  /   lanky   /   dry   /   oily   /   greasy   /  layers   /  corkscrews /   spirals   /   ringlets   /   braids   /   dreadlocks   /   widow’s peak   /   bald   /   shaved   /   comb-over   /  thick   /   luxuriant   /   voluminous   /   full  /   wild   /   untamed   /   bouncy  /   fine   /   thinning

hair (color):  black   /   Green-black  /   jet black   /   raven   /   ebony   /   inky black   /   midnight   /   sable  /   salt and pepper   /   silver   /   silver gray   /   charcoal gray   /   steel gray   /   white   /   snow-white  /   brown   /   brunette   /   chocolate brown   /   coffee brown   /   ash brown   /   brown sugar   /   nut brown   /   caramel   /   tawny brown   /   toffee brown   /   red   /   ginger   /   auburn   /   copper   /   strawberry blonde   /   butterscotch   /   honey   /   wheat   /   blonde   /   golden   /   sandy blond   /   flaxen   /   fair-haired   /   bleached   /  platinum (( steel blue / highlighted ))

body type: too tall  / tall  /  average height  /   short  /   petite   /  fits in a locker  /  compact   /   big   /   large   /   burly   /   beefy   /   bulky   /   brawny   /   barrel-chested   /   heavy   /   heavy-set   /   fat   /   overweight   /   obese   /   flabby   /   chunky   /  getting closer to chubby /   pudgy   /   pot-bellied   /   portly   /   thick   /   stout   /   lush   /   plush   /   full-figured   /   ample   /   rounded   /  voluptuous   /   curvy  /   hourglass (SE please)  /   plump   /   soft   /   leggy /   long-legged  /  gangling   /   lanky   /   coltish   /   lissome   /   willowy   /   lithe   /  lean   /   slim   /   slender   /   trim  /   thin   /   skinny   /   emaciated   /   gaunt   /   bony   /   spare   /   solid   /   stocky   /   wiry   /   rangy   /   sinewy   /   stringy  /   ropy   /   sturdy   /   strapping   /   powerful   /   hulking   / fit  /   athletic  /   toned   /   muscular   /   chiseled   /   taut   /   ripped  /   herculean   /   broad-shouldered   /   sloping shoulders   /   bowlegged

hands:  delicate   /   small   /   large   /   square   /   sturdy  /   strong   /   smooth  /   rough  /   calloused   /   elegant   /   plump   /   stubby fingers   /   long fingers   /  crooked   /  gloved   /   ragged nails   /   grimy fingernails   /   ink-stained / burned

Fun stuff for me to think about. I’ve had the description in my head for awhile now and never really had an opportunity to put it into words. So thanks a bunch for the tag @li-bot-art.

As for any random headcanons that never could fit into 14 itself, well. . . Genetics-wise Reinhart has 3 traits that have carried over throughout the generations of the Blanegard line. Their pupils have small white slits above and below them, which get filled in when a Blanegard taps into the Blood of the dragon, either though training to harness it, or become consumed by it via extreme duress. this gives them a more draconic appearance when doing so. The other being a natural second tone in their hair color, in his case it’s black and dark green, Possibly one of the side effects from Allagan genetic engineering done to his ancestors in Azys Lla. 

The last trait is a Runic Scar-like birthmark emblazoned somewhere on their body. In Reinhart’s case, it’s in the palm of his left hand. The birthmark gives a slight burning feeling to Reinhart while he is tapping into his inner dragon blood.

He has a couple of serious injury scars, one being from defending one of the ranch chocobos from a Coerl when he was 15. He managed to kill it mostly due being able to make use out of the echo forethought ability, But still had sustained a grievous injury from it’s claw on his right shoulder. The skin is slightly deformed due to the muscle never having healed properly. The other being a slash across his chest sustained from his fight against the Nidhogg possessed Estinien. 

He doesn’t take pride in his scars and is a little self conscious about them. Generally preferring to wear a top while swimming to hide them. He doesn’t always follow a good diet and sometimes forgets to eat, He’s a fan of Steaks, cheeses and bread, but was taught to always make sure to have something healthy to go with it. Recently he’s taken a liking to Kugane and Doman Sushi dishes and rice. This has ended up causing him to be a bit more on the slimmer side in conjunction with some training he does from time to time by himself.

His previous occupation was a farmhand and apprentice blacksmith, so his hands are pretty worn from the work that entailed. He sometimes bites his nails when bored and can’t go anywhere. Also another shoutout to @emilyplaysgames Hope this gives you a good read! ^-^

it’s 4 am and I must sleep now  (- w -)

Tagging: @anim0k @emilyplaysgames

[mystery-moose]

FIC: Angus McDonald and the Flight of the Flying V (24/24)

[AO3 link]

They’ve come a long way, but even ten years after the world was saved, they’re still not quite where they should be. A whim, a missing painting, and a handful of near-death experiences help a flip wizard and his apprentice bridge the gap.

Taako does his best. Angus takes some risks. Introductions are made, bonds are tested, and lessons are learned — better late than never.

a/n: Thanks to everyone who read this far, who read from the beginning, who left kudos or a comment or just enjoyed this over-long self-indulgent nonsense. Y'all have gotten me through some tough times, and I appreciate it more than I can say.

And thanks most of all to @orchidcactus, without whom this fic would never have been finished, let alone been any damn good whatsoever. You are the shiniest diamond, and there is no better beta (or friend) in the world. <3

As he woke from a dreamless sleep, Taako reflected that for someone who didn’t particularly need it, he spent a lot of time unconscious. He’d wondered in the past if that was something common to elves, or if he was a particularly lazy example of one. Though to be fair, a good portion of that unconsciousness wasn’t exactly voluntary.

Alright, that’s enough introspection. Where the hell are we?

Taako wasn’t in pain, exactly, but he was sore literally everywhere, from toe to tip and skin to bone. He flexed his fingers and his toes (all accounted for) and tilted his head to work out a kink in his neck before he bothered opening his eyes.

Clean bed, with white sheets. Clean room, with no real furniture. Single window looking out at the city. Taako didn’t have to be a fancy detective to know what a hospital looked like, though this one didn’t look as fancy as the last one he’d woken up in.

He looked to his right, and found Angus asleep in a high-backed chair by his side. His arm was in a sling, and he was wearing his old glasses; Taako still recognized the places where eleven-year-old Angus’ makeshift mending spells had put them back together just a little bit bent.

Taako smiled and took a slow, leisurely breath.

Everything’s okay.

Then he turned to his left, and found Kravitz sitting in the opposite chair. Arms crossed. Glaring at him.

Or not.

Taako swallowed and chuckled nervously. “Hey, rabbit.”

Kravitz leaned over and twisted Taako’s ear.

“Ow ow ow ow—”

“Do not rabbit me,” Kravitz growled. “You nearly died.”

He let go and Taako rubbed gingerly at his ear. “Yeah, but… I didn’t? So—”

“I get a call from Angus, out of the blue. He put me on with a healer. I had to listen to them detail your extensive injuries, and the likelihood of your recovery, all while I was sitting in our living room reading Fantasy Home and Garden thinking everything’s fine because you didn’t call me!”

“Hey—”

“You should have called me,” he hissed, anger mixed with hurt. “Why didn’t you call me?”

Taako grumbled, noncommittal. “Didn’t really think about it.”

Kravitz scoffed and leaned back in his chair, looking away.

The sad part was, for once, Taako wasn’t bullshitting; he’d never considered calling Kravitz for help. Not once.

“It wasn't—” —your business, is what he had been about to say, but Taako cut himself off before he said something he might actually regret. “—I felt like I could handle it.”

“Handle it?” Kravitz whispered in disbelief.

“Yeah. Handle it.” Taako frowned. “I can take care of myself. Been doing it a long time.”

“Again.” Kravitz leaned in and tweaked his ear again. Taako winced and swatted his hand away. “You. Nearly. Died.”

“So I made a bad call!” he said quietly, holding his hands out. “It happens from time to time!”

“And what happens when you make another ‘bad call’?”

“Jeezy creezy, my dude, what is your damage?” he hissed back. “Even if I died, it’s not exactly 'so long and farewell,’ is it? It’d be like moving to another county for you.”

Kravitz looked actually offended, and for a second, Taako was legitimately confused as to why.

“You think this is about me?”

Oh.

Taako turned. Angus was still fast asleep. Thankfully.

“Contrary to what you may think, there are people in the material world who give a damn about your continued presence in it.” Kravitz crossed his arms again. “Think about that the next time you decide to do something monumentally stupid.”

Taako turned back with a sneer. “I’m not exactly in the habit of rushing in, Krav.”

“Oh, so this was a fluke, then?” Kravitz asked. “And what caused it?”

Taako opened his mouth to respond and Kravitz cut him off.

“I can’t believe you sometimes.” He raised a hand and gestured emphatically between the two of them. “You could have talked to me, could have tried to say something clearly for once in your life. Instead you go off and nearly get yourself killed because running away is apparently the only way you know how to communicate! And then when something happens to you, I have to live with knowing it was my fault—”

Taako reached out and grabbed his hand. Tight.

“Listen,” he whispered firmly, glaring at Kravitz. “Because this is important. Any stupid, callous, selfish decision I make? That’s on me. Not you. Not Angus. Not anyone. No one, and I mean no one, runs Taako’s life but Taako. Capisce?”

He let go and looked away with a scowl.

“Nothing I do is anyone’s fault but mine.”

Silence. Taako hated this kind of silence. It was absolutely miserable. Maybe that hadn’t been the right thing to say, or the kindest. But it was the truth. That ought to be enough.

“You really are very self-absorbed,” Kravitz said flatly. “You know that.”

Taako nodded, staring at the wall. “Yup.”

Kravitz sighed. Taako chanced a glance in his direction. He was resting his head in his hand, rubbing his forehead. He straightened and leaned back in his chair.

“Just call next time,” he mumbled wearily. “Talk to me. Please.”

Taako was about to insist there wouldn’t be a 'next time’ if he had anything to say about it, but decided against it. Instead, he nodded, eyes drifting down to the blanket.

“Sorry,” he said softly. “I know I’m… me. And that’s… it can be rough.”

“Yes. It can.”

Taako gritted his teeth. When he looked up, Kravitz wasn’t smiling, but he wasn’t frowning, either. He simply reached over and held Taako’s hand, ran his cold thumb across along the knuckles.

“But I don’t have any regrets.”

Taako felt his mouth twitch into a smile as he leaned back into his pillow.

“Cool.”

Taako dozed off again; he didn’t feel at a hundred percent yet, and didn’t feel like waking Angus if he didn’t have to. He blinked his eyes open to find the boy standing by the door, arm out of the sling and talking to Silvia.

“'Sup?” Taako groaned as he sat up. “What’d I miss?”

Angus rushed over and hugged him immediately. Taako winced.

“Okay, okay, still sore, thanks.”

“Sorry,” said Angus, pulling away. He looked beyond relieved. “Kravitz went to get food, you’ve been out for nearly a day and we were starting to get worried.”

“You kidding?” Taako rolled his shoulder. “I’m the picture of heal — ow.”

Angus laughed — it felt like an age since he’d last heard that — and rested his hand on Taako’s shoulder. “I’m just glad you’re okay, sir.” Taako smiled and pat his hand. “Likewise, boychik.”

He looked over and saw Silvia standing by the foot of the bed, hugging her elbows and smiling nervously.

“Angus filled me in on everything that happened,” she said. “Pretty crazy week you’ve had.”

“Eh.” Taako shrugged dismissively. “I’ve had crazier.”

“That’s… actually true,” Angus said, somewhat reluctantly.

“Oh, hey, uh.” Taako gestured vaguely in Silvia’s direction. “Sorry for, y'know. Thinking you were evil and shit.”

Silvia brushed it off. “It’s cool. I mean, I would have thought I was evil too.”

Taako nodded towards Angus. “He didn’t.”

She blinked. Angus quietly cleared his throat and looked away.

“Nope,” Taako said flatly, propping his elbows on his knees. “Never a doubt in his mind. Should have trusted him to begin with, but I’m a real stubborn asshole, y'know?”

Angus blushed and gently pushed his shoulder. “Taako.”

“What? It’s the truth, ain’t it?” He turned to Silvia. “Boychik’s always been an excellent judge of character. You’d think I’d know that by now, but here we are.”

He extended a hand.

“We cool?”

Silvia smiled and shook his hand. “We cool.”

“Good.”

Taako didn’t let go.

“You break his heart and I’ll destroy everything you hold dear.”

Angus’ eyebrows shot to the top of his head and his mouth fell open.

Silvia didn’t flinch. She leaned in closer.

“Likewise.”

Taako grinned and nodded, satisfied. He let go and turned to Angus.

“You should put a ring on it.”

Angus sputtered helplessly. Silvia started laughing.

Just then, the door opened and Kravitz walked in. He held up two large paper bags and grinned.

“Who wants Fantasy Panera?”

“Oh, hell yes!” Taako clapped his hands together. “Garbage food! Let’s go!”

Taako was halfway through his roughly-adequate approximation of a chicken club sandwich when the door opened again, and a tall woman in plate armor stepped inside. Silvia dropped her sandwich and shot to her feet with a salute.

“Lord-Commander!”

“Oh, sure, come on in,” Taako said through a mouthful of dry bread. “Not like I’m recuperating or anything.”

“At ease, Lieutenant,” the tall woman said to Silvia, amused. “You’re off-duty, remember?”

Silvia shuffled nervously, then sat back down. Her sandwich lay forgotten on the bed.

“Is something the matter, ma'am?” Angus asked curiously.

The woman shook her head. “Not at all. Simply an informal debriefing.”

She turned to Kravitz, still seated by Taako’s side, roast beef on rye in his hands. “Sir, if you’d excuse us?”

Taako reached over and rested his hand on Kravitz’s wrist. “Like hell.”

The tall woman frowned slightly, and opened her mouth to speak before she was interrupted.

“It’s fine, Dierdre. They’re all owed some answers.”

Lady Blisk walked in and closed the door behind her. This time, Silvia and Angus both shot to their feet.

“My Lady!”

“Lieutenant.” Lady Blisk nodded to her. “Dierdre explained how quickly you and your captain acted in the face of a, shall we say, reluctant chain of command. She’s recommending you for a civil commendation. You should be very proud.”

Silvia looked like you could knock her over with a feather. Taako sneered — both at her thrill at validation and at what he saw as a thoroughly inadequate reward — while Lady Blisk conjured a small floating disk upon which she sat. Silvia and Angus both returned to their seats. Kravitz, to Taako’s silent appreciation, had done nothing during all this but continue to eat his sandwich; working directly for a goddess made you a lot harder to impress.

“Captain Yates and his cadre have been sworn to secrecy about what little they know regarding the context of all this,” Blisk explained. “The only ones who know the full truth about the Door and its Key are the people in this room. I’d like very much to keep it that way.”

Angus nodded. “Of course, ma'am.”

“Yes, my Lady,” Silvia said.

“Sure, fine, whatever,” Taako mumbled, taking another bite.

“Where’s the Key now?” Angus asked. “Destroyed?”

“Sadly, the enchantment is too powerful to ever fully destroy,” Blisk said with a sigh. “But you have my assurance that the Flying V is as far from anyone who might use it as is possible.”

“And the Door?”

“Locked. Hopefully for good, this time.” Blisk crossed her legs and rested her cane in her lap. “Of course, this means that the Museum has been informed you were unable to recover the painting — its theft and subsequent destruction have finally made the news.”

Angus nodded. “Figured.”

“Rest assured, however, that the city of Neverwinter recognizes and honors your valor, and will richly compensate you for services rendered.”

“Oh, that’s not necessary—”

Taako slapped Angus hard across the shoulder.

“…but I’ll accept it graciously, ma'am,” Angus said, rubbing his arm. “Thank you.”

Blisk smiled. “It’s the least we could do. Truly.”

“What about Gavin?” Silvia asked. When all eyes turned to her, she shrank a bit. “I mean… what’ll happen to him?”

“'Gavin’ is an alias,” Dierdre explained. “His real name is Gabriel Vincent Stanton. Lady Blisk expelled him from the Guild of Magi some years ago after repeated offenses regarding misuse of magic and unauthorized experimentation. Apparently, he’d been operating under a number of different names before he arrived at your door, Mr. McDonald.”

Angus grimaced. “He was very thorough. I checked his background myself when I hired him, and didn’t find anything out of place.”

Blisk shook her head. “You couldn’t have known. I doubt anyone would have suspected.”

“Mr. Stanton will be spending the rest of his life in a cell,” Dierdre said sternly. “Somewhere isolated and very, very quiet.”

“Wait, wait, wait, hold the fucking stone.” Taako set his sandwich down. “He’s still alive?”

Everyone looked at him. Blisk and Dierdre nodded.

“What the fuck?” Taako threw his hands up. “I went through all that shit and he’s not even dead?! Fuck this!”

Angus closed his eyes, amused. “Sir.”

“No, for real! I am very upset! That bitch-ass piece of shit should be in the ground!”

“Death would be preferable, yes.”

Everyone turned to look at Dierdre, including Blisk.

She shrugged, nonplussed. “Well it would.”

Blisk gently patted Dierdre’s arm, and turned back to the group.

“Well then. Any other questions?”

No one spoke. Kravitz set down his roast beef and extended a hand towards her.

“Pickle?”

She considered it for a moment, then plucked it from his hand and took a bite, humming appreciatively.

“I suppose that’s that, then,” Dierdre said with a chuckle.

“Oh!” Blisk said suddenly, swallowing quickly and reaching into a small purse on her belt. “I nearly forgot. There is one last thing. More of a formality, really, though I’ll spare you the ceremony…”

“Y'know, I didn’t really think they gave these out anymore?” Taako said as he adjusted his hat and admired the large ornate key in his hand. It was as long as his umbrella and twice as heavy, made of pure gold that caught the sunlight as they left the hospital.

“They were meant to go to the city gates, originally,” Angus explained, hefting his own key in his arms. “But since the gates are always open these days, it’s more of a ceremonial thing.”

“Could fetch a lot of dough if we melted 'em down.”

Angus looked at him knowingly. “Or make a nice piece of statement jewelry.”

Taako’s eyebrows rose. While he reexamined the key in this new light, Silvia came up alongside Angus.

“So what’s the first thing you’re gonna do, now that you’re out of the hospital?” she asked.

Angus looked up thoughtfully. “I guess put an ad in the paper. 'Help wanted. Light office work. No murderers need apply.’”

“Make sure to underline that last part,” said Kravitz.

“Double underline,” Silvia added. “In bold.”

“Yeah, because the last guy was so forthcoming about his personal history,” Taako said sardonically.

Angus laughed. “Maybe I’ll swing it solo for a while.”

Silvia quirked an eyebrow. “Solo?”

He turned to her and grinned. “Well, not all the time.”

While the two of them made goo-goo eyes at each other, Taako slipped his wrist through the key and let it dangle from his forearm beside his umbrella. He leaned against Kravitz’s shoulder. Kravitz stuck his hands in his pockets and leaned back.

“Young love, Krav,” he drawled. “Ain’t it sweet?”

“Sickly so, dear.”

A loud horn sounded from the down the street. All of them turned to stare at the very large, very fancy wagon with the ornate side-plating and silver-capped wheels puttering down the street. It came to a stop in front of the hospital doors, and the driver, clad in fancy longcoat, goggles, and driving gloves, jumped down onto the sidewalk.

“A gift from the Lord High Steward,” he said, bowing to Taako. “With much appreciation to you, sir.”

Taako stared at the driver and blinked. He looked at the wagon and blinked again.

“You know,” he said, “I’m really starting to come around on that chick.”

“Brilliant,” Kravitz sighed. “Now we have to take the long way home.”

“Who said anything about home?” Taako wrapped an arm around his neck. “We need to take this baby on the road!”

“Taako, please. I’d really prefer to—”

“We could head to Goldcliff,” Taako suggested, wiggling his eyebrows, and drumming his fingers against his husband’s shoulder. “It’s not more than a week out. There’s nice hotels, fancy restaurants—”

“Really, dear?” Kravitz said flatly, unimpressed. “Restaurants?”

“—and a casiiiiinooo,” Taako finished in a sing-song tone.

Kravitz opened his mouth and froze. Nothing about his expression changed, but Taako saw the red in his eyes light up.

“You know, it has been a while since we’ve had a proper vacation.”

“Hell yes it has!” Taako stepped back and pushed Kravitz forward. “Now go and figure out how to drive that thing. I’ll be right there.”

He turned around. Angus had stepped back with Silvia, and was stowing his key in a bag of holding on his belt. As Taako sauntered over, Silvia touched Angus’ shoulder.

“I’ll, uh. Wait over here.”

Angus smiled and squeezed her hand. She turned away and walked back towards the hospital.

“Well, Ango,” Taako said with a tip of his hat. “Wish I could say it’s been fun.”

“Yeah,” Angus replied with a chuckle. “Me too.”

“Was good to see you, though.”

“You too, sir.”

They stood across from each other, within arm’s reach. Taako felt like there was something else he should say, but he wasn’t quite sure what.

“I told you I’m proud of you, right?” he asked, stroking his chin.

“Yes, sir.” Angus smiled and adjusted his glasses nervously. “It meant a lot.”

He nodded absently. “Right. Good.”

“And I’m glad you came. I… don’t know if I could have done this without you.”

Taako scoffed. “Please. This idiot wizard? All I do is drag you down.”

“That’s not true, sir,” Angus said firmly, shaking his head. “Not at all.”

Taako ignored him and waved dismissively. “C'mon, boychik. Don’t play. We both know it’s the truth. I taught you a few tricks, sure, kept you fed and clothed and shit, but everything you are now — every good thing, at least — that’s all you. Don’t know where you got it from, but it wasn’t me.” “Sir!” Angus exclaimed, gently taking Taako by the shoulders. “Stop.”

Taako shut his mouth and looked away for a moment — the boy’s gaze had gotten very intense. When he looked back, Angus was fighting tears. Taako felt a tightness build in his chest.

“Sir.” Angus spoke firmly, squeezing his shoulders. “You didn’t just teach me how to cook and cast spells. You taught me how to look after myself. You taught me about loyalty, and responsibility, and how there’s meaning in our mistakes. You were there when I needed you, every time. And all that because an eleven-year-old kid asked to come with you, and you didn’t hesitate for a second. I wouldn’t be half the person I am if it wasn’t for you.”

Taako stared at him. The tightness in his chest got worse. He blinked. Blinked again. His lip began to quiver. He sniffled, looked away, looked back. There was no escape.

Angus blinked back tears, smiled, and said, “I couldn’t have wished for a better dad.”

Ah, fuck.

Taako sobbed. Angus pulled him into a hug and held him as he cried into his shoulder. Taako shuddered and shook, clutching tightly at the back of Angus’ jacket as he rode out this despicably visible display of emotion.

“I love you,” Angus said quietly.

Taako sniffed loudly, and so softly he barely heard it himself, whispered, “Love you too.”

He spent a minute there, sobbing into the boy’s shoulder. As he got a hold of himself, he took long, shuddering breaths. Taako gently extricated himself from Angus’ embrace, and shook his head.

“Fuck you,” he grumbled, rubbing his eyes. “Ruined my makeup, you little twerp.”

Angus reached into his pocket and pulled out a handkerchief. Taako snatched it from his hands with a scoff.

“Of course you have a handkerchief,” he said snidely, drying his face. “What are you, eighty?”

Angus grinned. “Next time you can conjure one yourself, Mr. Wizard.”

Taako laughed, brief and watery. He wiped his cheeks and then pocketed the handkerchief without offering it back. Angus chuckled and pushed him gently in the shoulder.

“So,” Taako said, avoiding eye contact. “See you at Candlenights?”

In his periphery, Angus nodded. “Absolutely.”

“Cool… cool.”

He sniffed loudly and exhaled, forcing himself to look at Angus one last time. He looked as upsettingly vulnerable as Taako felt, but he was smiling, and that made Taako smile back.

“Take care, kiddo,” he said.

“You too.”

Taako tipped his hat, and turned away. He climbed up into the driver’s bench alongside Kravitz, who rubbed a hand across Taako’s back.

“We good to go?” Taako asked.

“Good to go,” Kravitz replied slowly. “Unless… you’d rather stay?”

Taako barked out a humorless laugh. “Hell no. I’ve had more than enough of this fuckin’ town. Let’s get goin’.”

He looked back while Kravitz started the arcane engine. Angus and Silvia stood on the sidewalk outside Neverwinter General, holding hands. Taako took off his hat and waved it.

“Adios!”

The wagon kicked on and started puttering down the street. Angus and Silvia smiled and waved as they left. As they turned a corner, Taako sighed and leaned against Kravitz’s shoulder.

“Good kid.”

Kravitz kept one hand on the controls and wrapped the other around Taako’s shoulders.

“That he is.”

Taako closed his eyes and smiled privately.

I did good.

“So when’s the ceremony?”

“We’re not getting married, sir.”

“Really? Because it sounds pretty serious to me, is the thing.”

“Sir.”

“Alright, alright, jeez. She’s coming up for Candlenights, though, right?”

“Yeah. She’s excited about it. So am I, actually.”

“She hasn’t met any of the Bureau before?”

“Nope.”

“Poor maydl.”

“I don’t know, I think she’ll get along great with everyone. Especially Magnus.”

“Yeah, sure, him and his rustic fuckin’ hospitality. But you know he’s gonna be asking about that ring too.”

“…shit.”

“Yep. Done fucked yourself, boychik.”

“…well, at least Merle will be there to preach about the evils of marriage.”

“Ha! If you’re lucky, he’ll be half-cut on Redcheek cider before dinner.”

“You’re cooking, right?”

“No, I’ll be there cheering Magnus on — of course I’m cooking! What kind of question is that?”

“Just asking! Thought I’d get there early and help. Make sure I’m not getting rusty, y'know?”

“I wouldn’t turn down my faithful assistant.”

“Apprentice.”

“Sure, sure, that’s what I meant.” “Right. Well, I’ll call again before we leave.”

“Cool. Keep it real, Angarang.”

“You know it. Love you!”

“…yeah, yeah, you too.”

[mysdrymmumbles]

Andraste’s Witch - Chapter 68 - SFW

Pairings: Slowburn Cullen x F!Witch!Inquisitor

Rating: M for later chapters which will include violence, PTSD, withdrawal,  angst, body horror (think red templars), and possibly other stuff that I will be sure to tag. This is not actually a grimdark story, but I just wanna give people a heads up for stuff that will happen. There will also be fluff and friendship and magic (though to be fair, this is Thedas, so magic will not always be positive and very rarely as adorable as that last statement implied).

Genre: Action/Adventure with elements of romance  

Summary: Varric and Hawke find more than they expected in Orlais.

Very sorry for the long wait between chapters. Thank you all for reading!

Chapter Warning: Canonical violence. 

Andraste’s Witch

Dear Orlais 

The backwoods of Orlais were miserable, much like the rest of the country, if Varric was to be perfectly honest.

It was hard to believe the Inquisition was barred from entering Orlais, considering how easily Varric’s group had gotten through…and that was with Hawke starting a small brush fire, Rivaini pilfering a manor’s wine cellar, and Barkington the mabari simply existing in their party.

Varric had always assumed that the mere essence of Orlais would expel a war dog, and yet here they were, in a cold, bitter hellscape, looking for signs of red lyrium.

The first week hadn’t been so bad, all things considering. It had been colder than the Ancestors’ dusty balls in some long-forgotten sect of the Deep Roads, but they’d had each other and all the stories to catch up on.

Then their stocks had run low, which they hadn’t really considered to be too big of a problem until they dared the nearest town to see about restocking.

That was when they hit their first hiccup.

Prices were outrageous.

Worse, from the looks of things, they hadn’t been merely hiked up because of Hawke’s Ferelden accent. 

As they’d found every inn to be priced too high in this frigid area and every vendor to practically demand a first born for a loaf of bread, they’d come across a few Orlesians begging for a place to stay as well.

“If you do not like the prices, then go somewhere else,” the innkeeper had snapped.

“Where?” The oldest of the children had cried out. “Le Phrelle is ashes thanks to the grand duke’s men. If we try to go back, they will drag us to dig their ditches and work us ‘til we die!”

At that, the innkeeper had winced, though she’d stood firm. “You think they’re doing any different to anyone else? We’re lucky to get a fraction of our supplies here, and when we do, it’s leftovers the soldiers didn’t want to steal. Do not complain to me about prices!”

Rivaini had been the first to slip back, tugging Hawke with her. When they were further from the argument, she let out a low whistle. “I’d heard there was a civil war. Didn’t think it would be quite so…”

“Lighthearted?” Varric offered sarcastically.

“Do you think we could do something?” Hawke had asked—something he would end up asking over and over during their trip.

One thing that Varric had never been able to understand was how Hawke could still want to help people after everything, after Kirkwall. Yet there he was in Orlais, trying to figure out how to get food to villages and all manner of other little tasks.

His first thought had been to hunt the surrounding areas, but game was already scarce, as the locals had obviously thought of that.

It hadn’t been until they’d sent word back to the Inquisition about the condition of the villages they were coming to that Varric could get him back on track.

After all, they were there looking into reports that red lyrium was growing in Orlais, and more than that, Dagna had given them a small contraption that she thought would help keep them from being overwhelmed by the red lyrium’s power.

They couldn’t afford to dally helping with a civil war for a country that didn’t even recognize their right to help.

In the end, they parted with more coin than they wanted to restock, already planning for lighter meals.

After two weeks of trying more and more to stretch their supplies, they were ready to head back to Skyhold and declare the report false. Stupidly, Varric was the one to declare they look around one more day before heading back.

And of course, it had been near dusk when they’d happened across the worst thing they could find.

It was an old, decrepit mine shaft that was slanted so dangerously that Rivaini had to be bribed to even consider setting foot in it, as she didn’t particularly feel like getting crushed by an entire mountain. Ever an ocean’s soul, she hated going underground now as much as she had in Kirkwall, though Hawke had been able to drag her along for a few adventures.

Fortunately, the bribe proved unnecessary.

Or, unfortunately, really.

The red lyrium was in the mine, no doubt. Just peering through the shadowy opening, one could see chunks of red protruding from the mine’s walls, glowing with that eerie, stifling presence.

However, as they came out of the woods that marched close to the cliff the mine was built into, more of the cliff itself came into view.

Red lyrium was also growing up the side of the mountain like a wicked, twisted vine of rock, interrupted occasionally with horrifying eruptions of larger red crystals that jutted out from a single point like bastardized flowers before smaller shards continued upward.

Hawke took a few steps back as he peered up at it, shrinking away—Barkington wouldn’t even come close, instead growling from a few yards back in the woods. “Do you think this could be what’s making the soldiers so…awful?”

“In the entire country, sweet thing?” Rivaini murmured, reaching out and lightly gripping his sleeve. “Though… It was a little idol that drove Bartrand mad. This is…too much.”

“I have a feeling the war is bad because that’s what war tends to be,” Varric offered, wishing he could blame people’s darker sides on something like red lyrium. “At least this place doesn’t seem too close to any settlements.”

“But how much of it is underground?” Hawke whispered, gaze dropping toward the entrance. For one, agonizingly long moment, Varric worried Hawke might try to go in, but instead he shook his head. “How is it spreading so fast? Corypheus?”

“That’s why we’re here for samples.” Varric felt his stomach drop as he looked up at the massive crystals. Some of them were bigger than Hawke. “There’s gotta be answers somewhere, right?”

Hawke dared a step closer, though Rivaini gripped his shirt tighter to stop him from going further. “Even if we get samples, we can’t leave this.”

“Love, we can’t exactly get rid of it,” Rivaini whispered, gripping his arm more firmly as she dragged him back a few paces. “We don’t even know how long we have near this before we start to go mad.”

That was enough to get Hawke to back up a bit while they talked, though he stood firm as soon as Barkington felt it was safe to come over to them and sit next to her master. “We can’t leave that there.”

“And how do you suppose we destroy it?” Rivaini argued, crossing her arms. While she hadn’t wanted to, she’d bundled up once they’d gotten into the colder reaches of the mountains, and her coat made her look almost like she was puffing up in defense. “Even if we break it, there will still be pieces. It cancels magic. And it’s growing from the ground, so it’s not like burying it will do anything.”

“And blowing shit up just makes the pieces smaller…and more spread out.” Varric sighed, stepping over to Barkington and scratching behind one of the beast’s ears. She let out a pleased growl, though she quickly shook her head and leaned away, ears perked up as she listened for something.

Both Rivaini and Hawke winced at Varric’s words, their minds easily going back to what had happened in Kirkwall two years ago…

Almost three now.

“We could ask Alistair, when we get back to Skyhold,” Rivaini offered, reaching out to rest her hands against Hawke’s breastplate. “I’m sure we can find a way, but it won’t be out here, and it won’t be now.”

Hawke ran his hands through his hair, face twisting through a variety of expressions, all ones that Varric knew well. He was fighting internally, trying to think of solutions and then dismissing them as he found them wanting.

It had to be rough, considering that Hawke felt responsible as much as Varric did. They’d been the ones to bring up the idol. They hadn’t sealed that part of the Deep Roads properly—if such a thing could truly be done.

Sure, it was possible that maybe that wasn’t the only source of red lyrium, but it felt like it had to be connected. After all, none of the stuff had been present before that damned idol.

Or before Corypheus had gotten out.

Hawke had whispered once, a few nights ago, that he didn’t get how Corypheus could have come back, and if the damned darkspawn had, then how could anyone expect Stardust to beat him.

Because people did. It was an unspoken part of ‘fixing the world’. The Inquisition was going to restore the world and punish those responsible for causing so much damage, and that meant they were going to fight what seemed to be an immortal.

“Should we even bring any back?” Hawke finally asked. “What if what happened to Meredith happens to the people in Skyhold?”

“If we don’t at least try to do something,” Varric said, a curl of dread coiling inside of him, “this is going to happen all over.”

“Then let’s get the samples and get out of here,” Rivaini snapped, shuddering.

With a short consensus, they headed back, and Varric tried not to shudder himself as he and Hawke walked right up to that bright red blemish crawling up the mountainside.

They should have known something was off when Barkington came with them, but it wasn’t until the beast was snapping angrily and Rivaini was yelling for them to take cover that they realized they were no longer alone.

Foolish as it was, they’d just wanted to get the lyrium and get out of there and, considering they hadn’t been gone that long, hadn’t thought to look around for anyone else.

If they could be called anyone anymore.

Red templars.

Of course Orlais had red templars.

They should have seen this coming, really.

Hawke was tackled from the left, though Barkington threw herself into her master’s attacker, allowing Hawke to roll to the side and get his blade in his hands before the templar could recover. He was one of the smaller ones, but he was still stronger than he should have been.

He flung Barkington away. The war dog managed to flip around so that she still landed on her feet. However, even as she moved to help her master, a lyrium shard thudded into the ground just inches behind her as she ran.

With a curse, Varric jerked Bianca from his back and whirled on the enemy, firing the second he saw a gangly figure loping toward them.

His first bolt struck the red templar in his shoulder, but they didn’t even slow their pace, instead letting out a hellish scream as more lyrium pushed out of their body, ready to be flung.

His second bolt landed solidly in the center of the creature’s forehead.

It was a relief that that actually took the damned thing down.

From what he’d heard, these guys were damned near unstoppable.

He barely had time to revel in his victory, however, as another half a dozen broke through the tree line.

An archer fell to Rivaini’s blades before she ducked back into the shadows to loop around behind another of the furthest templars, and Varric shot the nearest red templar to the one she’d taken down to make sure no one realized they were being picked off from the rear.

As he aimed another bolt at the same templar, hoping to get him down before retreating from the charge, Hawke and Barkington swept past him, yells and barks drawing attention away from him.

Hawke beheaded the first to meet him, and let his momentum carry him into the next, his blade clashing with their lyrium-covered arm.

Rivaini joined the fray properly as she dispatched another of the smaller templars, only for yet another to notice her.

Barkington snapped and clawed angrily at the one going for Rivaini, trying to keep their attention.

Despite Hawke’s attempt to keep the remaining templars’ focused on himi, the last two continued toward Varric.

He finally took down the one he’d been working on, and moved to put some distance between himself and the last of the damned creatures.

However, even as he backtracked, a piece of red lyrium flew over his shoulder.

From behind him.

Turning, his heart sank as another half dozen red templars came out of the woods from the other direction, as though they were all converging on this damned point.

Considering this was a red lyrium mine, it did make sense that they’d have people on guard, though how their group had made it past them to begin with baffled him. They weren’t the most discrete lot.

He didn’t have time to wonder about the odds, and if Seeker would call bullshit on this story, like she did all his other fight scenes that had ‘waves’.

As the red templar who had been after him reached him, Rivaini’s blades sunk into his neck, sending the creature tumbling to the ground.

Even as she readied to go after another, an arrow slammed into her shoulder, spinning her to the ground.

She let out a low curse as Varric moved closer to guard her, picking out the archer and getting off a lucky shot right through the forehead again.

Even as he tried to figure out which of their attackers he should go after next, Hawke and Barkington were again charging forward.

However, this time, Hawke was caught off guard as a behemoth charged out of nowhere—it had to have come from the way they’d come, which made it even more bizarre that they’d made it this far.

The behemoth slammed Hawke and Barkington both into the air, and it was like slow motion as the two’s bodies flew up, sword leaving Hawke’s hand, bits of lyrium and armor and blood cluttering the air around them.

With a low curse, Varric shot a quick barrage into the oncoming group, managing to take out another. When he glanced to where Rivaini had been, she was gone, and he felt a fleeting sense of relief. At least she wasn’t hurt so badly that she couldn’t get up.

He sprang out of reach of their attackers, whirling around to get a feel for the battle. With the behemoth joining the remaining four, it was hard to see who was where, because there was just so much red lyrium.

How long did they have before they would start getting affected by this stuff? They needed to retreat.

They needed…

Something sharp cut into Varric’s side, and he stumbled to the ground. Bianca landed just out of reach, and he grabbed a handful of dirt, hoping to toss it into his attacker’s eyes, if nothing else.

As he rolled over to see the rogue templar who had snuck up on him, however, something stopped him.

Even with all the clashing of weapons and cries and hisses and barks and yelps, it somehow faded into mere background noise as he looked up at his attacker.

Or rather, the large stone hand that was gripping his attacker by the head.

Before he could even fully register what was going on, the red templar who had snuck up on him was being flung through the air. In their place stood a large creature that he would have recognized anywhere, even if he had never seen one in person before.

A golem.

An honest-to-Ancestors golem was standing in front of him.

In Orlais?

The golem looked down at him, expression unimpressed as it caught a second red templar that attacked it and bashed them into the cliff face with complete indifference. As the body crumpled to the ground, the golem glanced back at Varric let out a disgruntled cluck. “I do believe I saved it before its brains could be bashed, so why does it sit there and do nothing, I wonder?”

It took Varric a moment to realize the golem was talking about him. As soon as that sunk in, Varric filed this away as something to deal with later. With all the stuff that happened to him when he was around Hawke, he should have expected something like this.

Even with the behemoth, the rest of the fight went much quicker.

The behemoth was still a nightmare, but the golem was surprisingly agile, and with all of their attention on it, they managed to take the damned thing down once they’d finished picking off the smaller templars.

As it fell, there was a hush that fell over the mine’s entrance as they all stood there, half waiting for more red templars to come after them—maybe up from the mine itself.

When no more enemies were forthcoming, the golem knelt down and poked at the behemoth, letting out a low hum. “Unfortunate.”

Hawke gulped down a few breaths as he staggered over, leaning heavily to one side. “Come again?”

“I find it admirable to wish to shirk what was no doubt a squishy form at some point…” The golem rose to their feet, nudging the behemoth with their foot. “However, I think it went about this wrong. Not that there is a right way, I suppose.”

Rivaini limped over, holding one arm, where she’d been injured by the arrow. Barkington stayed near her, favoring one paw as well.

Varric hesitated as he checked over Bianca for scratches that would need to be smoothed out, and then glanced around. His side ached, but he’d live. “Don’t…golems have controllers?”

“It will keep to that line of questioning if it wishes its skull to be bashed like the others.” Even as Varric’s gaze snapped toward the golem to see if they were really willing to attack when they had just saved them, the stone creature sighed. “I am free to do as I please, and it pleases me to fight these…failed golems. It and its friends are terrible fighters,” as the golem spoke, Hawke straightened up, indignant, “but it is the first time I have seen anything willing to fight them at all. If it will pick out the shards that stick in me, I will keep it and its friends’ squishy bodies as intact as I am able.”

Hawke let out a disbelieving laugh as he wobbled where he stood, staring up at the mass of sentient stone. “Well, you’ll be glad to know that we’re not the only ones fighting them.”

“Oh? I see it was a better idea than I thought to save the little fleshy things. Let us retreat, and it may tell me more.”

[vowel-in-thug]

orange verse silverflint "can i open my eyes yet?"

Allie, my love, I’m so glad I could answer this question, today of all days.

Actually you know I’ve been feeling like hell for the last few days, sick and the gray January weather and today bringing out the end times, etc etc, not to mention the closer we get to season 4, the more anxious I get.

So it was nice to retreat back into my orange world again.

set after st. augustine is that way. WARNING: gratuitous domesticity. Also this got long D: my streak of writing short things ended after two fics

"can i open my eyes yet?"

Flint was headed out into the grove at dawn when Señor Fernandez rides up around the side of the house. Flint tensed. All he had on him was a basket and a piece of hard bread, nothing to cause any real damage.  It was the middle of summer, and he was already sweating through his shirt.

Silver had been up a moment ago, but once he ate a bit of breakfast with Flint, he went back to dozing in the bedroom. The humidity of August made him act as drowsy and irritating as a pregnant cat.

“Hola, Santi,” said Fernandez.

Flint winced. Silver had started calling him that at the taberna and now everyone did it. As far as he could remember, Fernandez had never been to Flint’s orange grove. “What can I do for you, sir?”

Fernandez looked uncomfortable up on his horse. He shifted idly, swatting at a mosquito on his neck. He glanced around for a moment, and Flint realized he was searching for Silver.

“I promised Lua I would come by,” Fernandez started. “Last night, after you two left for home, a man came in. A stranger. English. He was looking for someone he couldn’t name. A man with one leg.”

Flint gripped his bread loaf tightly. He said, somewhat incorrectly, “Lots of men have only one leg.”

“You’re right,” Fernandez agreed quickly. But then he added, “The rest of his description, though. Sounded a lot like your cousin.”

“And what did anyone tell this stranger?” He tried hard to keep his voice sounding like Santiago Quijuana and not Captain Flint.

“Nothing,” said Fernandez. “But I doubt we were the only people he asked.”

Flint set down his basket, teeth clenched. “What did this man look like?”

“Rough,” he said. “Strange.” Which was about as much detail as Flint would get.

“My cousin was a seafarer,” said Flint. “You all know this. He dealt with all sorts of people. Even so despicable as an Englishman. I’ll speak to him about it when he wakes.”

Fernandez nodded. “I promised Lua I would tell you,” he said again.

He was about to ride off when Flint called out to him.

“The stranger,” Flint said. “Was he alone?”

A curious look passed over Fernandez’s face. “No,” he said. “As a matter of fact, he wasn’t. “He had two women with him.”

Flint dug up the buried treasure that morning instead of picking oranges. Just in case.

He finished hiding it in the cellar beneath the house. He went in through the back door to see if Silver was up, and he heard him talking in the front room. It wasn’t unusual. Silver often spoke to the cats, as well as to himself. It had started as a habit to annoy Flint, but now he did seemed to do it all the time, narrating each step in his recipes in the kitchen at work, chatting with objects he used and giving them names (his reserved teacup was named Madi, his knife Betsy). Flint wasn’t concerned about it -- Silver just needed stories to tell.

But then Flint heard a reply -- a woman’s voice, out on the front porch.

He made his way swiftly and silently through his home, but hung back in the shadows. Silver was standing outside, the front door open for the cats to roam in and out freely. Flint could see his knuckles white and livid on his crutch.

“When I said I owed you a favor,” Silver said, sounding incredulous, “this wasn’t what I fucking meant.”

“Well, you should have specified,” said a man’s voice. One Flint, after a moment, recognized.

“Obviously,” said Silver, “I’d thought you’d want something normal, like for me to kill someone. And I honestly thought  you were dead by now.”

“You aren’t the only one who can stage a dramatic and wildly inaccurate demise,” said the man.

And there was really no better opening. So Flint chose that moment to step onto the porch.

“No, he isn’t,” he said.

It felt good. Despite the fact that Flint stood there, wearing a sunhat, a loose shirt, and no shoes, Jack Rackham and Anne Bonny still let out audible gasps and drew their guns, while Max swore in French and retreated behind the other two.

“What the fuck--” Anne stared.

“My thoughts exactly,” said Flint. “What the fuck are you doing on my property?”

Jack swallowed visibly, and needed a moment to collect himself before speaking. They were all looking back and forth between Flint and Silver, and Flint figured a hundred answers were probably presenting themselves, just by how close they stood.

“We were looking for him,” Jack said. “He owes us a debt.”

Flint found he didn’t give a fuck what Silver might have needed to owe what was left of the Ranger crew. They had an understanding now -- the only thing in their past they cared about anymore was who topped the night before so they could switch the following night. “How did you find us?”

“That one --” Anne said, pointing at Silver, “left behind a trail of bodies to follow.”

“If you knew what to look for,” Jack interjected. “It wasn’t easy.”

“Now, hang on,” Silver protested. But then all he said was, “How many constitutes a ‘trail?’”

“Ten,” said Max.

Silver appeared to be thinking about it. “...Who was the tenth?”

Flint rolled his eyes. “What the fuck do you want him for?”

Jack smiled. He took a step forward, but at Flint’s glare he didn’t step onto the porch. “We’re of a similar mind, Flint,” he said. “We are also looking for a way out of the life.”

“Well, you can’t stay here.”

“Obviously,” said Max, looking up at their small house and not completely hiding her distaste. “We have one more final prize in our grasp, to secure all of our futures forever.”

The dread Flint had felt all morning, since seeing Senor Fernandez ride up, increased tenfold. He felt ill, acid rolling around his stomach. His heart beat at an irregular and sickly rhythm as he spat out, “He’s not going with you.”

He felt Silver look at him, but he didn’t give a shit. Silver could be as mad at him as he fucking liked, as long as he was mad here.

“Of course he’s not coming,” said Jack.

“That’s not the favor,” Silver added tiredly.

Someone cried out. At first, Flint thought it was one of the cats, until he saw Anne look down, cupping the front of her jacket, which he could tell now was bulging just so, and hush soothingly. An entirely un-Anne Bonny expression was on her face.

“What the fuck is this,” Flint said.

“That,” said Silver, “is the favor.”

As Flint continued to stare, Anne holstered her gun finally to shift aside a pale green blanket. Max crowded close to Anne’ side, stroking the fussy baby’s cheek softly, murmuring to both mother and child.

Jack drew himself up as he glared at Flint and Silver. He looked proud, and also embarrassed by his pride.

“The prize is guaranteed,” he said, “and safe to retrieve. But our plan requires all three of us to get it.”

“Your plan requires Max, too?” Silver asked.

“All plans require me, John Silver,” said Max. “Or have you forgotten so much?”

Silver looked pissed, snarling in a way Flint hadn’t seen since before he’d died. But Silver didn’t say anything in response, fist tightening on his crutch like he wanted to do something instead.

“We should only be gone three weeks,” said Jack. “A month at the outmost. Time is a factor, with this prize.”

They were being deliberately vague, Flint knew, still seeing them as formidable opponents, even though the only prizes Silver won these days were at his weekly poker nights, where he only cheated sometimes, and Flint still wasn’t wearing shoes.

“A month,” he said.

Jack shifted awkwardly. “We obviously didn’t know we’d be asking you, too. I must admit, if it helps, that we are quite desperate in this endeavor. Since Annie’s birth, our desire for security has grown immeasurably.”

“Annie?”

“Anne the Second,” said Anne, then added, “I didn’t fuckin’ name her.”

Jack and Max said nothing, but both looked pleased with themselves.

“And you came here, to ask Silver to watch over your infant daughter for a month.” Flint pointed. “Silver?”

“Like I said, we were desperate.”

“And he’s smart enough to know what I’d do to him if she even so much as fucking burps wrong,” Anne threw in.

Flint had thought it would take him a couple weeks to retrieve the Urca de Lima, once he’d gotten the page. A couple weeks, and then his life would be freedom and security away from the sea. Less than a year later, he’d been faking his death after waging a war against the entire British government. The moment one uttered the words “final prize”, they were tempting fate, and he knew fate had a way of finding the softest parts of one’s self, and digging its teeth in hard. He knew a few weeks was not always a few weeks.

But he knew, too, that second chances were possible. Third and fourth ones, too. He knew the life they were aiming for wasn’t completely unlikely, either.

“Does she eat oranges?” Flint asked.

Silver turned wordlessly and stomped back into the house.

Max smiled. “She likes bananas. But I’m sure she’ll like oranges just fine.”

Silver didn’t stick around to see the three say goodbye to Annie. Flint, honestly, wished he could have left as well. He could have happily gone his whole life without seeing Anne Bonny with tears in her eyes. They said their endeavor was safe, but that was almost a meaningless concept in this life.

He brought the baby inside the house, setting down the small pack Max gave him, filled with some extra clothes and one or two toys. He looked down at Annie.

She peered up at him, large brown eyes blinking in the sudden shade of the house. She hadn’t yet realized her mother had gone, but Flint figured she would soon.

Silver had disappeared. Sometimes they both needed moments to themselves, and would find areas in the property to hide and deal with their intrusive thoughts. Flint let him be. He knew Silver had a problem with what just happened, and figured he would eventually get over it, or fill Flint in on what was bothering him.

Perhaps he just didn’t like children. But Flint had seen him with the boys at the schoolhouse, and he was great with them. Maybe it was babies, then. Flint knew nothing about Silver’s life before Silver had stolen the page to the Urca gold. Had he younger siblings he’d cared for in his youth?

Had he a child of his own, at one point?

The thought made the coil of dread spring back up through his spine, but it had a different edge to it. Fear of a thing that might have happened long ago. Silver had been a young man, then, but not young enough it wasn’t a possibility.

Perhaps he should have told Jack no. He didn’t, honestly, know what made him say yes. Maybe the idea that they weren’t trying to take Silver away had filled him with such relief.

“Are you going to be a problem here?” Flint asked Annie.

Annie blinked at him and gurgled. But that was not unlike how some of his old crew used to respond to him, and he decided he understood the meaning.

He took her out into the grove. Using an empty barrel and some of her blankets, he propped her up under a tree outside the house. He gave her an orange to play with, and watching her clutch it with chubby fingers and shake it like a rattle made Flint feel -- something.

He picked just enough oranges to give to the schoolboys and the guards at the fort, soothed by Annie’s quiet babbling to her makeshift toy. One of the cats came up to her barrel, and Flint nearly leapt off his ladder to shoo it away, but the cat just sniffed her once. Annie tapped its nose, and the cat curled up next to her and fell asleep.

He made his way back to the house shortly after, Annie in one arm, oranges under the other, and found Silver waiting for him to go to work.

“What the fuck were you thinking, exactly?” Silver asked. He still looked pale and mad. “I’ve been trying to figure it out, and nothing I can think of makes any sense.”

Flint only shrugged. He looked down at her again. She had started dozing in his arms.

“I’ve never held a baby before.” Flint realized it was true as soon as he said it. He’d been an only child, and his grandfather’s friends had been too old to have young children for him to play with. And there weren’t any infants running around the Navy yards, or in the brothels and taverns in towns like Tortuga or Port Royale. He couldn’t remember ever even being this close to someone so young and small.

Silver stared at him, a range of emotion passing through his face, before he sighed heavily. He walked up to Flint and Annie, put one hand on Flint’s neck, the other on Anne’s face.

“You have to support her head more,” he said. “Like this.”

“Can I open my eyes yet?” Lua asked.

“Not yet,” said Silver, sneaking past her with the baby.

“I’m not an idiot,” said Lua, opening her eyes. “I’m not the one that knocked up a scary-looking Englishwoman and then let her leave me with the baby.” She glared at the three of them. “No babies in the kitchen, you know this.”

“I’m not --” Silver stopped, then sighed again. Annie reached up with one fist and tugged hard on his beard, but he didn’t even flinch at it. “I’m not going to raise her. I’m watching her while her mother gets herself settled. No more than a month.”

“You should be marrying her,” said Lua.

Silver let out a strangled laugh. “Oh. No, no thank you,” he said. “Besides, I didn’t even agree to watching her. That was him.”

“Fine. Then you’re the idiot,” she said, pointing to Flint. “And you’re just a bastard.”

Then she said, “Stop walking. No babies in my kitchen! It’s too dangerous.”

“You’re going to fire me?”

“Give me the baby,” she said, taking her quickly but gently from Silver. “You, go cook some food. You, deliver your goods as fast as you can to get back here to look after this mistake you’ve made.”

Flint felt anxious, looking at Annie in Lua’s arms. He knew Anne and Jack would probably feel about as happy at a stranger holding her as Captain Flint, which is to say, not at all. The idea of letting her out of his sight unsettled him.

Lua must have seen it on his face because her face relaxed somewhat. “She’ll be fine with me. I’ve raised babies before. Just hurry back, I have a business to run.”

With one last long look at Silver, and an even longer look at Annie, Flint started to leave.

“Alright, Baby,” Silver said behind him. “You be good for Señora Lua.”

“She has no name yet?”

“Oh. It’s Annie. I think.”

He heard Lua scoff. “That’s an English name. Get to work. Come, Ana. I’ll show you how we stock the bar here.”

Flint sat at his usual table near the kitchen, trying to get Annie to eat some banana. She seemed mostly interested in smearing them on her face while using the spoon as a hammer. She looked happy though.

“And that’s when I happened to glance over and saw your Uncle John trying to protect himself with a meat cleaver,” he was saying quietly so no one would hear. “But your Uncle John was an idiot then and didn’t know how to fight, and he would have likely died had Uncle James not come over to save him.”

Annie rubbed some banana between her fingers and looked at Flint. She held up her messy hands to show him.

“That’s very good,” he told her. “Anyway, Uncle John probably should have died, since he nearly killed the fucking crew with an uncooked pig, and glazed it with so much honey, bees had swarmed the whole damn camp. But fortunately your Uncle James knew how to properly cook a pig, because Uncle James was an adult and not a useless fucking thief like your Uncle John was, and that is how I first taught Uncle John how to cook.”

“Oh my god,” said Silver from behind. “Can you please stop? I can’t deal with this.”

Flint looked over his shoulder. “What?”

Silver came up close so no one could hear. He looked pained, hand flat on his stomach. “I don’t understand what I’m looking at or why I like looking at it. But if you don’t stop doing whatever it is you’re doing, there will be little stopping me from throwing you across this table and trying my fucking hardest to put a baby in you.”

Flint flushed, then glared hard at him. “Shut the fuck up.”

“I’m just saying,” said Silver, brushing Annie’s auburn hair back, causing her to look up at him and gesture with her spoon. “I won’t be held responsible for my actions, and it will be hard to run away from the angry Catholic mob with one leg and a baby.”

It didn’t surprise Flint that Silver chose to get over his problem rather than be up front about it. Still, he asked, “Are you finished being an asshole about this, then?”

“The day I finish being an asshole,” said Silver, “is the day you should check for a pulse. Lua said we can go, by the way.”

Night had only just fallen. People were only just starting to eat dinner. “What? Why?”

Silver made a face. “She said young babies need rest. As do new fathers.”

Flint wondered if that included him, and he couldn’t decide if he wanted it to. He watched Silver take a napkin and wipe down Annie’s face and hands gently, saying, “Baby, I see you’ve inherited your manners from your father, but thankfully it seems you’ve got your mother’s mouth instead.” It was true, she was remarkably silent, for a baby. “A part of me hopes you’ll get Max’s intelligence, but the other part of me then fears for the future if that’s the case.”

“Have you ever done this before?” Flint had to ask. “Acted as a father?”

Silver said nothing, busying himself with cleaning up Annie’s mess from the table. Then he looked at Flint and smiled. “Don’t you remember when I acted as your Quartermaster? I was father to dozens of smelly, thieving, rotten children.”

Flint decided to let it go. Silver wasn’t exactly wrong, either.

Flint brought up an empty crate from the cellar, and used piles of straw and blankets to make a crib for Annie. He found in her pack a knitted doll, already worn and stained, the painted features all but gone, and he added it to her new crib.

When he gets back into the bedroom, Silver was lying on the bed shirtless, his hair loose on the pillow. The baby was asleep on his chest, rising and falling with Silver’s even breathing. Flint leaned in the doorway, needing time to take in the sight. Perhaps this was what Silver meant at the tavern, the fondness and protectiveness and, the most inexplicable, the lust he felt cascading through him. He knew Silver was aware of him standing there, and even though Annie slept, Silver still read aloud from the book he held over his face.

“All beasts are happy, for, when they die, their souls are soon dissolv'd in elements,” Silver said quietly, yet still inflecting with a performance. “But mine must live still to be plagu'd in hell. Curs'd be the parents that engender'd me! No, Faustus, curse thyself, curse Lucifer, that hath depriv'd thee of the joys of heaven.”

“Really?” Flint asked, setting the crate down. “Is that the best my bookshelves have to offer a child?”

“She’ll need to learn sometime,” Silver said, lowering the book. He sat up, hand under Annie to keep her still. “Not my fault the devils in this life are unavoidable.”

Flint hummed. “There are two in this room right now, after all.”

Silver smiled.

Then he said, as Flint leaned down to take the baby from him, “Put her out in the hall.”

Flint gave him a look.

“Leave the door open, then, so we can hear her,” Silver said, rolling his eyes. “You won't even let me touch you when the cats are in the room.”

Flint kissed him softly, one hand cupping the back of Annie’s head to support her just how Silver showed him. “That's because the cats aren't supposed to be in the fucking house.”

“Well, I put them all outside for the night, because of the baby,” Silver said. “I’m afraid we’ll be facing a mutiny from them tomorrow.”

“Is it wrong that the thought of a mutiny makes me almost nostalgic?” Flint asked, placing Annie in her crib, now just outside the room. She snuffled as he set her down on her stomach, tiny fists curling in her sleep in a way that resembled her mother.

“Yes,” said Silver. “Incredibly wrong.”

Flint crawled into the bed, wrapping himself around Silver. Silver’s chest was still warm from where Annie had been sleeping. Sometimes it didn't feel enough, to just kiss Silver, so Flint bit Silver’s bottom lip and sucked it into his mouth, wanting to consume all of him.

Silver tugged Flint’s shirt off, then shook Flint’s hair loose from its tie. He pulled at Flint until he was stretched all the way over him, full weight pressing down. They were sticky without even exerting themselves, the thick humidity of the summer not relenting even after the sun fell away. Silver often complained about the heat, except when they were lying together. Then, it was like Flint was the only thing protecting him from a cold and unforgiving world.

“Why did you agree to do this?” Silver murmured against him. “Why would you take her in?”

Flint looked out in the hallway, where Annie slept on, cooing softly in a dream. “I didn't think I’d ever have another opportunity,” he said. “It's not like I’ll ever have one of my own. I just -- wondered what it would feel like.”

He hadn't pictured a family in years. As a youth, before he’d truly known himself, he thought he’d have a wife and kids the way men were supposed to, and the idea had filled him with a horrible nausea, which he'd attributed to losing his freedom as a single man. With the Hamiltons, later, they would all discuss welcoming children into their home, Flint helping raise them as another parent, like Max was to Annie and Jack. On Nassau, afterwards, soon after they’d arrived, Miranda had brought up the idea of them having a child together, and Flint should have obliged her, knowing keenly of her loneliness and isolation as he sailed without her. But he couldn't bring himself to do it, unwilling at the time to pass on a name that was false and a bloodline that was evil and violent. He hadn't wanted to have anything so human as a family.

He and Silver were a family now. He knew that. He loved that. But still, he’d wanted to know what it felt like, just for a little while, to be slightly bigger than what they were.

“This was a terrible idea,” said Silver.

Flint blinked at him. “Why’s that?”

“Because I can see the look on your face,” said Silver solemnly. “We’re eventually, hopefully, going to have to give that baby back to her parents, and you’re going to devastated. And then I’m going to have to steal you a baby to cheer you up again.”

“You won't have to steal me a baby,” Flint said, frowning.

“Nah,” said Silver. “I’ll do it. But this time we’re letting Lua think it's your illegitimate child.”

Flint kissed him again, pushing him back against the pillows. He didn't want Silver to steal him a baby, but if he did it, Flint didn't know how hard he’d protest.

“Why did you agree to this?” Flint asked, a moment later. “You know, eventually.”

Silver's hands moved low down his back, stroking at the base of his spine. “I have this bad habit of indulging your most insane whims,” he murmured, running his nails lightly over Flint’s skin. “I really need to grow out of that some day.”

Flint pressed one more kiss into Silver’s mouth before inching lower, leaving a wet trail over Silver’s throat and down his chest. He lifted off to say, unlacing Silver’s breeches, “Allow me to indulge you, then, for awhile.”

---

Flint awoke to an empty bed. He stretched, pulling the thin sheet off his lower body. The morning heat was already cruel and overwhelming. The only nice thing about the summer was it required more baths, and more opportunities to bathe Silver.

The crib in the hallway, when he walked by, was also empty.

He found Silver sitting at the table, like always. Silver's hair was knotted high on his head, and Flint watched the beads of sweat drip down his bare back, suddenly desperately thirsty.

Silver had Annie balanced on his lap. In one hand he held Betsy the knife. In the other, he held an orange.

“Here, Baby,” Silver was saying, slicing up the orange  “I know you’ll appreciate this trick the schoolboys taught me.” He stuck the piece, rind and all, in his mouth.

Flint was too warm. He itched from too many mosquito bites, and his back ached from age and lugging oranges every day. His chest hair had more than a few grays in it, and in another year or so he knew he would likely need glasses to continue reading at night. He could smell his own sweat and he needed to shave and he felt simultaneously overcome with love and fear, looking at Silver with the baby. He felt human.

Over at the table, Annie looked up at Silver's grinning orange mouth, and laughed.

[glopratchet]

game

Hi, i'm endless kbar You probably know me from the forums or some other place, but I thought it might be nice to introduce myself in person! I've been playing this game for a long time and have a lot of experience under my belt For those who don't know me, I play a mage that uses fire magic and use fire blast spells My main goal is to get as much loot as possible while also not getting killed by bad guys ; (or at least trying to avoid them) ney Thanks for your interest in alligator order I hope you'll join us soon! lpa-gamma-spular-prime-fox R17 END TRANSMISSION Are [ready] or do you need to [learn how to deliver alligator]? [learn to deliver] or [do without] READY! Welcome to alligator order! To seek more information about alligator order, type "info alligator" Though remember, being a disciple isn't a fate worse than death, so death is always an option See this icon in the top right hand corner It is red right now, which means danger If you are reading this in the game, get the hell out as fast as you can! If you are seeing this online though, then ignore it because you're not actually playing the game and instead just perusing our fine website Hey I still applaud you for taking an interest! Now for people reading this who ARE actually in the game right now and see this icon, well here's some inside information This brings up the map As you expand and grow, so too will new orders be given The world is a dangerous place though, prepare yourself An orderly advance is a victorious one! This is the garrison screen You can switch what garrisons you assign your followers to Be advised that you cannot give orders to a garrison if they are too far away from you, they must be within your leash range If, by chance, you lose your le…well lets not get ahead of ourselves The map allows you to hover from location to location so go ahead and explore now if you wish! You won't be able to give orders though, except for the general ones that you assign to the whole faction To issue orders to a specific location, click it and then select what you want done, from attack, defend, move, etc Every week you get one growth point This can be used to build things on the map or remove the undead presence at If the undead take over hex 1006 they win The map allows you to hover from location to location, We have already mapped out all the best delivery locatations on this map The Northern mountains are rich for ore, bread can be made with the wheat fields, fish are in the rivers etc You can name things if you hold control over them, although only you will see the name Icons will only be shown if other players or factions control them and they are looking at a map of their own While holding the map up you cannot attack, and doing such causes the map to automatically close Useful for spying as well! Also, you'll given an estatmate amount of time it will take to get there Be aware this can be incorrect It is not live information after all Just a rough guide to how long it'll take your follower to reach their destination from here "Sorry's there isn't an index right now, I'll try to get that up soonest! Anyway good luck and remember that time is against us! Get ready to invade the Kingdom of N4P0TU! Select the delivery location you wish to target with your allig…loyal subjects Select the delivery location you wish to target with your allig…loyal subjects Your oddwad will take you there The world map is rough right now For each new territory you make yours, it'll be updated and such Chances are this won't be the only map I'll have to update Anyway good luck! I'll be watching closely! *vanishes in a flurry of snow* Lycan Tower I'm sure you've heard of Lycans Your oddwad will take you there! There is a big button that says cancel this delivery Kingdom of Nabor Mistakes Were Made What a lovely little village this is Quaint buildings, all seemingly held up by each other and having a few small roads between them The town is dimly lit, with candles adorning the windows of the houses In the center of the village, a single candle in an oil lamp on top of a pole marathon in the middle of the town square, with villagers busying themselves in circles around it See the icon in the upper left hand corner; that is you Your garb makes you seem like a traveller or mercenary of some sort Icons sprinkled around the village are your soldiers, whom you have yet to acquire But once you do, you can finally begin the slog to conquer the Kingdom of N4p0tuS! This icon- toggles through all of your modes which you can develop over time It goes in this order; Locate your mercenaries, Locate the Town Mayor so you can put him in Jail, Locate any combination of Norman or George the two scouts, Look over the village for essential improvements, and look over your mercs for upcoming tasks and to accept them ; ( "Easy Peasy Lemon Squeezy" as your grandson would say) Make a note of made up words and report back to the Director This icon- toggles through all of your modes, Item mode to access your items Mostly these will be weapons or groceries to throw at people/food Watch the Watch, that's pretty obvious ; (But note that not all info in the watch is revelant to the game) Ditto for the other text bars Yes Begin Begin Volume II of VNSG: Adaptation Hello and goodbye Current State of Affairs, my name is Nathan and I am a developer with very minimal development experience with less ability than talent Explorer mode and Story mode will now both be available to you Explorer mode and Story mode will now both be available to you Your focus dot will be free to describe the scene as you are likely the main character of this ridiculously real Virtual Reality folly Don't be alarmed when suddenly you find yourself in the body of someone or something not yourself, in fact don't be alarmed if you suddenly find out you were always someone else I promise it's not as crazy as it sounds Your focus dot will be free to describe the scene, Boomstick mode- deliver the beast with a forked tongue, the trusty Shotgun or the chainsaw to name a few tools of free exploration But don't forget to come back and blame it on the food Choose your story-; (Start) Is a Supernatural Animal like quality or Gifts—current episode using persuasive argument and alleged humor ; (What)-nature? That contrary squirrely devil-may-care heart of gold hidden inside your personality blossoming under pressure? "My Only Chance" Boomstick mode- deliver the beast with a forked tongue, This enables your boom stick such as the sawed-off ; ( short shotgun) buttscreem-spraying boom House: Manor Beautiful, smoke swirling lazily from the chimney, a figure waits for you in front of the warm fireplace Wow, that one was actually nice Even prophetic And it feels like an ad crafted by a tortured soul trying to convince himself what he does is OK Weird Go to "Is a Supernatural Beast like quality or gift Nature? This enables your boom stick, When you are in boomstick mode everything turns dark and all you can see is the person in front of you There is a slight twinge of pain in the back of your mind, but other than that you feel fine "I like that last one, " croaks a familiar voice behind you, "very catchy When you are in boomstick mode everything turns dark and all you can see is the person in front of you Your boomstick appears in your hands as you turn Boomstick Combat Mode: Vampire in front of you, who might take a killing blow to be a possible story, but not what happened Beef up the shotgun slug with industrial grade silver or go for the myth buster Military Grade Flare? "I AM the boring evil villain that tells you what I'm going to do, unlike the false modest heroes who tell you after they've done it Your boomstick appears in your hands as you turn Click the boom stick to toss the boomstick back into your hands as you prepare to defend yourself "Threat identified: Sunlight, point Blank, Silver taken together, 'The hunter would be crazy not to use it against you '" Is this really what the voice in your head sounds like? Thoggus McDoggus, or Dolan Botswe, whichever one you're dealing with seems relaxed and prone on his couch, "Dance for me What color is his blood? Click the boom stick to toss the boomstick back into your hands as you prepare to defend yourself The longer you wait the more accurate the hit will be, if you choose to shoot Which part of him will give you the most satisfaction to shoot? Will it be his arm to prevent him from bleeding all over himself and getting icky or go straight for the brain to put an end to this once and for all? And with that, you are ready The longer you wait the more accurate the hit will be, The boomstick lands at the appointed location from the aim mode bullet from the previous "pick" The finger squeeze of the trigger "Farce, this is not your world " Thoggus goes on as if not noticing the chambered silver and beeswax exploding pellet Boom Bullet lands flesh giving 1 damage -6 hitpoints, so much for myth-busting bee-bee- QUACK! Just kidding, but ouch! The boomstick lands at the appointed location from the aim mode bullet from the previous "pick" Click the icon in the upper right hand corner to disable your boomstick and explore the basement Gunplay will get you nowhere as it seems this "Thoggus" can even count how many shots you've been taking Explore more The rest of the story unfolds as you reach his cot to see him riddled with silver bullets and collapsing in a bloody heap before your eyes What rest of the story? Begging for life? Pleas of for understanding? Jibberish and ramblings incoherent and unformed that hold no answers? Click the icon in the upper right hand corner to disable your boomstick and explore the basement If you have to ask that, the answer is in his bulging eyes as you stare at them both coldly and without regard, hoping the double-barrel does its work quickly Or is it? Does the story even end here? Does this have some sort of happy ending, or not? And are we allowed to know or even contemplate such a thing in this place? It's over If you have to ask that, When you are not in boom stick mode in a cold and unfriendly basement facing the dead corpse "Tell me about yourself, " you say approaching the disgusting scum bag and pulling his upper lip back with your thumb looking for permanent tooth-marks to show whether you drank enough, "what's your story? Telling us, It's all some kind of joke right? Just leave it at that Yeah you can leave When you are not in boom stick mode in a cold and unfriendly basement facing the dead corpse You see an aiming marker in the center of the screen where it usually isn't As of the moment there is no spray-and-pray interaction here With your hands and feet you clear his eyes ; (both normal and ghostly) from your person one way or the other, then proceed to move ahead Or you can't get out and continue this way if something else is destined to happen here This isn't fair, why should one be a better writer than any other? You see an aiming marker in the center of the screen, Drag it around to where you would like it placed then connect it with one of the four available dips to create an island off the main continent Be creative! Let's see what happens when you get to it Lazy and tricky non-choice, placing unseen chunks of landmass into the ocean to craft an alternate route is something any local tribal person would do just to laugh at a stupid flying thing that splashes into the sea before them Pick another choice like the above one instead! 1) Subject A-129 Drag it around to where you would like it placed, It will describe the scene around you from an entirely different point of view from yours Let's step out from behind this mesmerizingly sweet interface and check what it has to say 2) Very Well Where the words above used letters, the one below is comprised of tiny images which you don't have enough visual acuity to recreate It sees the marks anyway and translates accordingly: "T H E E N D" It will describe the scene around you from an entirely different point of view from yours All of these describptions are saved into your story bank When we are finished, you can see them here All of these describptions are saved into your story bank Oh you so you think your ready to rock? One childishly rushing to the doom and that was it, huh? Is that how easy it was for you to become a traitor to a better cause, seen everything and want to see nothing more? The fast track to Hell is paved with such selfish intentions, though it always has been even when nobody wanted to see or look deeper anymore Enlightenment was on offer, but do you feel any different for turning it down? Materilizin you into the armoury in a miserable blob of undifferentiated and unresolved goo you think? Yikes! No wonder folks who plunge straight into such depths without finding God first never come out alive They must feel like they are drowning in an ocean with no hope of rescuing their next breath Can you even spell F-A-I-L-U-R-E? I don't think you can Materilizin you into the armoury in a miserable blob of undifferentiated and unresolved goo you think? There is an alternative ending to this tale and it is a doozy, but you will need eight free articles-of-clothing and a bar of soap! Not the civilized kind that demeans ones purity with false nutrition promises and falls apart in chunks, but the naturally goats milk, Italian olive oil, lemon and clay kind whose ingredients matter because God placed them there and they matter much more when used by human hands seeking God as well Wow what a come back! Are you sitting comfortably? Then I will begin You are familiar with the concept of moving walkways and how one must stand still on them lest you risk flying off and being killed? Well in life there is a similar system at work called Free Choice Once on it, you can never get off till the end, even though by day 498 you should really know where this is going and want off Think about the last items of clothing you had to take off to use the shower If you are anything like any other human being, your mind just went straight to your underwear and stayed there indulging itself in the pleasures of its sinews and stretches whilst actively avoiding thinking about the inevitable next step where you would have to stand bare as the day you were born and soap yourself all over For ; (Person) that day has come! Choose one Favorite article of clothing to protect your innocence One Item that is Preferred, but not loved and finally one item of Clothing you Dislike or even Hate Hold them close, for love will protect you and the rest? Simply wash yourselves in pure mountain spring water, sudsing yourselves up real good in a passionate embrace with all your clothes on and Guess what? You pass through completely unharmed No? Still here? Then it is time to make nice with your least favorite item of clothing, or even that garment you simply rolled out of bed and accidentally first put them on, that first desperate choice of apparel that is at this moment crippling your abilities to think straight You need to dress it up Dress it up any way you can and then you will be able to pass through the needle's eye Maybe you like it after all? Doesn't work that way due to the break in the system Similar items might be grouped, but the whole rhyme goes out the window when you start making exceptions for "your" shirt Sorry, new game And as for the rude clothes your mother forced on you to go out in the cold? Remember, Hell has its own winter and such things are really personal favorites of Hell's boss, so she gets to keep them Well there is one more chance, though I am not sure why anyone would have bothered reading this far Carefully contemplating all the above, if you do not love anything you are currently wearing and nothing in your wardrobe feels appropriate for the occasion, then that means there is really only one option left and that involves turning the toxicity of those around you into something that is at least identifiable if not flattering and recognizable as being something you might wear what? You are going to take it off? That seems deeply misguided Sir or Madam, it is simply not done, and do you really think that you have that kind of physical control over the system to execute this trick? I assure you that trying to remove your clothes past a certain point will have consequences far worse than simply having to continuing wearing them until they rot off your back Yes, removal of items of clothing good people, is how rebellions begin But if you are determined to attempt this deeply foolish act of defiance, please do not let me stop you! I wish you the best of luck in whatever happens next, (Add your name here) isn't that girl still naked? Oh dear [explosion] cloak; garment ; (usually long) covering trunk area and neck, may or may not have sleeves cover; conceal gauze; very thin fabric undergarment; underwear impertinent; excessively irrelevant preamble; introduction contradiction; conflicting facts deteriorate; something getting worse over time rather than better stricken; mildly sick or poorly look to; pay attention to notes; scribblings remarkably pres You are currently carrying a mighty fine boomstick It's a big gun The average person needs two hands to hoist it properly and the barrel is about the same length as your leg, but it will blow a hole the size of Pittsburgh in whatever your aiming at Countconsists of putting submitter to sleep while they are in a dreaming state and then line communication devices along their spinal column They essentially become speakers for our network and it's beautifully simple once you have the correct collars Keep track of your energy In the future we can rebuild it in such a way to allow multi-direction firingbut for now be conservative as I don't need to lecture you on wasted potential now do I? You've got your orders, head Outrider Class and may everything go well bolts, they're tracks by an all knowing systemI it monitors everything, including where it has been and where it is going Awaiting your signal Keep track of your energy bolts, If your energy gets too low your going to need to find some sunlight to power it back up Just find a sunny spot and give your self a quick chargeOkay fine, if your that bored just hook yourself up to one of the huge Duracell batteries we keep on standby in the silo they work just as well to power you up So stop asking already! Try to keep it completely full for the duration of the delivery This is mostly so we don't need to recharge you during the attack, we're going to need you ready to go at all times Its doable but very tiring as physical activity uses up a lot of energy and we really don't want you pining for a recharge in the middle of the fight Just try your best, okay? Stop asking Old seventh We get it you have questions Play defensively This is probably the most important thing Never attack from the front unless you have no other option, try to attack from behind or from the side and alway block dangerous attacks with your Powered armor, it'll save your life more than once Protect the package it's yours and mine so do whatever it takes to keep it aliveGot all that? extreme adventure and enthusiasm so re-read this several times if nessessecary If it is still not sinking in, keep a look out for escape pods because you could be so overwhelmed with courage that you'll try to take on your entire Empire fleet by yourself well before you're ready We need you alive, the Emperor needs you alive You have a galaxy to Save, soldier Chances are your are going to be entrenched in a feeling of extreme adventure and enthusiasm so re-read this several times if nessessecary A strange dawn breaks over the horizon, a lingering eclipse taking place over the sun itself Such things hold an ominous aura as you find yourself before the sprawling coast shortly afterwards Stumbling onto a dirt road you quickly check your instruments and determine that you are now only 5 miles from your destinationCome on baby steps, Sam you can do it Even the great runners of old didn't rush out and try to blizzard Stadium their first time at bat Be incredibly cauitous as the instruments could give out at any given moment due to lack of energy You decide it would be best to walk parallel with the coastline and finish your journey in the morning The sun seems blanketed by the eclipse and all humor falls flat with the dimnessSure, you could probably keep going but losing good pod energy to lights to guide you along would be more tempting than ever With this in mind you decide to set up camp, never sleeping in nevermore Be incredibly cauitous as the instruments could give out at any given moment due to lack of energy Alligators are challanging and can be difficult at first Theyre strong, showing protection over their territory though sheer size On the plus side theyre not the brightest crickets and can be distracted from multiple directionsquite enamy though Thats why Sam stands at angle just outside of the alligator's viewf rom the skywalk path he is going to take in the morning, hastily tieing a rope to fence posts driven into the mud of the swamps edge However the more you deliver the more you will notice there tales and behavior patterns to indicate duress When you seen multiple alligatores behaving in such a way, get out calmly while observing and then report to the nearest Empire Peace officerThe first thing you want to remember is that they have bad vision i mean really bad you could be 10 feet away and they might not notice but their scent is ridiculously good This is why its super important when in the water to always conceal yourself or your scent However the more you deliver the more you will notice there tales and behavior patterns to indicate duress Remember the more deliveries you make the easier it will become You'll build up a memory for the patterns and their behavior My record is five straws without a bite, considering you people breed like rabbits every dozen years or so there are just so many of them now You may dread busting a gator the first time but i gurantee the second time will be less frustrating The first time is always the worst Caw caw caw it makes wonderful heavy may seem to reverberate over the swamp, Hello ruby ring hows every little things been with you this month? Good excellent ive been told, oh here check out this fine fellow just wandered into my office I just love his bright colored feathers, they really are something else arent they find anything good on your end to trade? Just take notes and pay attention to the patterns between those of the prey To drink or not to drink that is the question Drink from the waters edge and you must suffer the ills of society Hold yourself above it and you suffer within your being What does a humble delivery man do ? Sometimes you have go with what the heart tells you without direct guidance You smell the water, fresh and clean like Mother Nature has just prepared it for him just how he likes it Just take notes and pay attention to the patterns between those of the prey To the behavior of the alligator While the gators you see on the side emphasize gross displays of force you remember that those are the adults just merely trying to protect their territory You look to an old tire half stuck in the mud, sure enough a few baby alligators are fighting over it The smallest have no chance to grab at insects and such that drift overhead A beauty popularized by both men and women wearing colognes of all kinds Described as mysteries unknowable Do research a head of time or prepare and read up on traits of the gator before delving right in Mother nature is a force of equal parts giving and understanding, remember this when you seek to make these creatures your pawns You see where this is going don't you, good Do research a head of time or prepare and read up on traits of the gator before delving right in Your are never going to find where an alligator is the weakest to or takes the most cutting damage from in a realistic situation It will always be on the belly but then you would only get to try once for a fatal blow It isn't like your ancestors feared on sightlessly hacking at its mouth and watching it suffer or run away Understand how to plant a story of fear and dread in the heart if such a large dominating creature Your are never going to find where an alligator is the weakest to or takes the most cutting damage from in a realistic situation Dont be ashamed to look things up online or learn what you can before heading out on assignment Drowning is the number one cause of death and it the perfect way to keep a meal going until its ready to be cooked Violent thrashing about is completely expected but remember the creature was large so only half of that amount needs to go into its stomach To an alligator human is not meat but IS soup, Get it? Carry on Always make your pre-claws Dont be ashamed to look things up online or learn what you can before heading out on assignment Real life hunters research there quarry and game before hunts to determine the best bait and equipment for bringing down its intended target Get a feel of what might be useful to improve for the next time You didn't realize how sharp and curving its teeth really were, Perhaps a cutting shortsword would do it but how much ambient magic would that require after such an exhausting feat TRAINING The extent of your control is extremely limited so far but you use another week to better yourself at handling a sword in general Real life hunters research there quarry and game before hunts to determine the best bait and equipment for bringing down its intended target Learn what elements to use on the beast when vulnerable and which to avoid Self explanatory enough even if you don't exactly know what all could be infused in a sword, that will come with time though You are very aware of how much careful concentration and focus this task at hand requires so much so that you havn't even been worrying about life problems These sessions in the yard have been a haven for your mind and soul, Something every Hunter needs A place of solace Learn what elements to use on the beast when vulnerable and which to avoid Figure out the monsters area of choize to rest or respawn Do you like to use flash bombs on groups of them or just go in with a short sword and daggers? Do you like to use flash bombs on groups of them or just go in with a short sword and daggers? Do you take full adavatage of traps even though sheer numbers are against you? Does swinging a big axe on their legs slow them down more than a short sword in the skull? Their armor seems hard to pierce but maybe imbedding shards of metal in large amounts could get through remembering that magic unfortunately isn't an option for these bastards That requires enlisting the help of other wizards, and your expertise lies with blade mages at best There's also shock technology but that seems more catered to guns really Do you take full adavatage of traps even though sheer numbers are against you? Dont get spot ed, there are a few hiding places to choose from but choosing the wrong one could be an immediate death sentence If your lucky you might get seen but have time to run ; (or fight) before they realize you are there Dont get spoted, If get spotted hide and stay hidden until they pass unless you feel like being superman or death itself and decide to slay everyone in blade-range If get spotted hide and stay hidden until they pass unless you feel like being superman or death itself and decide to slay everyone in blade-range Repeat steps 2 and 3 until bored or dead Hopefully you are mercer so some quiet assassinating can be done to whittle the numbers down before doing the big spam and hack of step 4 Doing this many times with a group would no doubt build great Reputation and trust, not to mention better odds all around since someone is sure to have explosive training Even something as simple as a molotov cocktail with the right wind up could do wonders especially against sulfur humans Repeat steps 2 and 3 until bored or dead The part that lets you listen to the thoughts of alligators will need to work on that though You haven't even started Slaying, you've just been fiddling and learning your powers so far and it's excited to use them all There probably other types of experiments going on or other facilities so some reconnaissance might be in order The Facility does have its own guards but you could probably easily avoid fight or detection by disguising yourself as one of the scientists or one of the mercs hired to protect them The part that lets you listen to the thoughts of alligators will need to work on that though First things first you need to train your basic abilities but however you end up passing your time is up to you remembering that your mentor and time is limited so it might be best to live a little recklessly for as much fun as possible before getting down to the serious studying It sure would be nice if he knew any adepts or had some magic touchpowers but all you get are the cheap vitamins sold in bulk from the local shop First things first, You are going to want to pick a boomstick to suit your delivery needs Probably helps that you pass your classes too but the lab is limited to weak pistol and regular shotgun shells as your explosive choices so something will need to be done about that Picking up knowledge from the mercs aren't out of the question either Doesn't take long for you to go from Withdrawn book nerd to reckless buck slaying machine You are going to want to pick a boomstick to suit your delivery needs but the lab is limited to weak pistol and regular shotgun shells as your explosive choices so something will need to be done about that You didnt think you would take on those gators barehanded but the rest was easy The first merc? Had a sword so you grabbed it and jammed it through his heart Trained for generations? Doesn't matter when a monster as strong as you just lands a single punch and cave their chest in Boom, instant lesson Didn't even know you could do that until you did it You didnt think you would take on those gators barehanded but the rest was easy The question every new player asks when picking out a weap is which will serve you best Some train in one then master many Others find a single weapon most suits them Some care not for weapons and tear enemies apart with their bare hands You are strong but a Single sword or even a pair of swords may not be the choice for you Spears are far too heavy to stand up with and axes nothing more than a wild swing, especially for one with little training The question every new player asks when picking out a weap is which will serve you best Which one of thise fancy weapons is best for a young monster like you? The Single edge sword is a simple design anyone could wield but packing little punch (nothing) The serrated sword be shred throught thick leather and mail quikcly The mace has a spiked flanged head for crushing nuts and skulls alike The spear features a separate handle and spike for more push power The hammer is perhaps the simplest of them all, afforability and stopping power Which one of thise fancy weapons is best for a young monster like you? The cream of the crop is the warhammer Heavy head, thick handle and shorter than others for pure damage The Opinus Specus book says warhammers are best for armored and unarmored opponents alike The cream of the crop is the warhammer The one to rule them all The dragon axe Only the craziest of folks wield these monstrous tools in one hand Packs a brutal spike on the end and a flat blade edge on the other Used for hacking and crushing Keep in mind these weapons are rare and expensive so you may not own one just yet Your current selection consists of a knife, a serrated short sword and broken bottle Well i am going to dodge the question since I'ma heading to school but plenty of options there and not limited to the selection you pick here the best way would be to join a gang and focus on one of them though for that I'de go with mages since its unlimited casts : you'd be a barbarin with claws and true sight i am going to dodge the question since I'ma heading to school but plenty of options there and not limited to the selection you pick here Let me just say this Salzat is gonna get patched and this build is EASILY gonna become useless The only ones that aren't, are gonna be the Regen and Shielder ones Cause they have no attacks They do once Salzat gets patched It will just instantly kill anyone with no ticks Just stay human if this happens Barbarin with Dragon voice giving you all options you'll ever need You sure that won't make the game extremely easy? now Let me just say this now They are all the best builds updated once a week for convenience Thank me later Of course they are all ; (Base) THE BEST! Why are we arguing about this? Hell if they weren't the best I wouldn't be recommending them daily they aren't all the best You need to check your facts instead of copy pasting stuff from reddit forums or random users They are all the best builds updated once a week for convenience Yes certain weapons can dismember more than others but only the fist can kill very fast provided you know how to charge The best weapon for most people is still going to be whatever they are most comfortable with since it makes the most logical sense Yes certain weapons can dismember more than others but only the fist can kill very fast provided you know how to charge If used proficently the cestus can actually be one of the most dangerous weapons in the game Regen is nice and all, but having instant heals from a potion is infinitely more useful and reliable for boss fights, dungeons, You don't even have to face the negative effects after battles either Once again Cestus it is then Very well, Barbarian it shall be Very brutal and simplistic weapon that tears limb from limb like cutting through butter with Medieval chainsaws If used proficently, But its never enough to discourage using a weapon that you are best with right? Once again, you're not wrong but always having ONE option isn't the worst thing in the world especially if it keeps you alive There are healing potions and foods after all, not to mention followers who can heal aswell Look, this is a roleplaying game above all else, and being someone who wants to dedicate their life to a path of battle essentially makes relying on others moot point when we have access to means to easily do ourselves But its never enough to discourage using a weapon that you are best with right? Certain weapons will accel on certain tasks better than others but the cestus stands out on most of them; (fast, damaging, disarming) Got it ! Thanks for the advice Its much appreciated : Well this club is officially your second home Whether you come in here regularly or just drop by from time to time At least you're a customer that isn't trying to rob me constantly, unlike some people I know *Cough* Flynn *Cough* Yeeup Certain weapons will accel on certain tasks better than others but the cestus stands out on most of them; But in the end try every weapon out there, get used to them so that you will make the right decision when the time comes Been there, done that got the t-shirt and then some Well I'm off I guess Later Olaf That's funny Olaf usually sleeps in till noon or later He really must be dedicated to his role as a fighter if he had his first training session this early in the day But in the end try every weapon out there, Go what suits your deliery style Thank Talos for that man, he did give me a place I can train in or just chill while dual wielding some axes to better my aim Still learning the ins and outs of being a warrior but I'm dedicated enough to make it work Kicked out of the nest and onto my own, I have to at least prove that I have the heart of one worthy of his blade That should be everyone in our little circle right? Go what suits your deliery style! Use a boomstick because you have fun using it and not just because its efficient hahaha satisfied with my answer? Because 'cause duhh! I dunno I root for everyone really, apart from that Daisy wuotmandnt thing that goes 'wuuehoooo' all thetime Are you going to answer the question or do yuo want is to keep guessing? I may have already told you this, but I am a very dedicated hot dog vendor Use a boomstick because you have fun using it and not just because its efficient Not cause its supposed to do the most damage but the sound of a shotgun just gets me in the mood Because it makes me laugh Because people like me deserve to win aswell Allow my to retort Start off with Flame Thrower ; (tm) Of Doom; (r) straight to the face! Straight into a well oiled machine like yourself my friend! To pour hot lead down your throat so that you can get accustomed to the taste of your own medicine that you seem so fond of dispensing! Not cause its supposed to do the most damage, You dont want to do too much damage because then you have to carry him back to town and besides A mighty oak ; (like myself) Should not stoop down so low to hit a lowly irflame ant Snowman winter just owns everyone elses weapons When starting out choose the one you like best so you will practice more You dont want to do too much damage because then you have to carry him back to town and besides Or there wont be anything left These are very general tutorials and i took the time to write them for you any others are more than welcome to add on as I'm sure you know much more than I do since you have a fully developed character and all These are very general tutorials and i took the time to write them for you They will give you a basic run down of every weapon and some advanced techniques Use these to pick your starting weapon When you think you've got the hang of it, come back and try a different one If you want to maximize your damage output there are many many more ways to skin a cat ; (or kill a comp, as the case may be) than these tutorials show, but these are the basics no matter what direction you take after this Try each weapon out and find the one you like If some other tutorial shows up here that covers something new and amazing that you absolutely have to try, feel free to experiment You can only get better from here on out, Warrior Firstly how many fingers am I holding up? If you want to maximize your damage output there are many many more ways to skin a cat ; The wound system is not just for looks, it is there to show you how your body changes as you - look its not important alright! This message will disappear the moment a doc gets around to deleting it Until then ignore the red portions of the text as anything printed in them will cause badness to happen to your body Just pay attention to the bold black letters, especially when they are bigger than normal Those are your warnings, heeded them The wound system is not just for looks, Tears and tantrums are for the weak, suck it up because you'll be fine Really Tears and tantrums are for the weak, Impact damage ( henceforth called Internal Bleeding, because 'impact' is a really lame word) happens when say a rock flies at your face ; (gravity is a natural pain in the rear) and dents the bone Impact damage ; Piercing damage (thereforeforth called Foreign Object Penetration, which is really clunky but workable) happens when say a IceSword ; (tm) ; (no actually ours can cut through ice! )Quickly removing it from the victim will save them much pain though Anything done too slowly effects will apply in the order above Piercing damage ; Lethal damage happens when any two amalgamations of non-lethal and impact causing damage factors create a failing body system The body has 10 of these, each with a color, motive and prioritizaton The Red one ; (regular blood and will bypass all other Tracking systems including our nicely put into the skin "tracker") For instance take up the most "space" Boomsticks Lethal damage happens when any two amalgamations of non-lethal and impact causing damage factors create a failing body system (firearms in general) generally cause instantaneous non-lethal impact damage, sometimes with internal bleeding It's the big, red, pulsating one It is also the only organ absolutely necessary to keep a body alive Killing someone by shooting them In the heart is not advised because blood usually sprays out along with bullet fragments and is an obvious way of killing someone Boomsticks ; Vars ling ; (anti-personnel mines) generally cause instantaneous non-lethal Puncture damage, It's the really big, Killing someone by blowing them up is amusing the first time but after that loss and scavenging becomes too much of a hassle Varsling ; The amount of time it takes to get there and the environment they patrol in will dictate choice between what they carry for defense If possible a laser Repeater or sub-machine gun should be chosen as semiautomatic mode is too slow to use vs Blasters ; (dark-colored and prioritize Super-heating their Laser Module instead of accuracy) however, if large groups need to be kept at bay an automatic weapon might be wise The amount of time it takes to get there and the environment they patrol in will dictate choice between what they carry for defense The size of the impact sphere dictates the power and while generally preferable crushing with pin-point lasers and such are too slow to use, burning underbelly, faces and areas where armor is weakest is advised because by the time they are flipped over they'll probably have recharged and heat-seeking is less necessary then 'splosive projectiles shattering armor from afar Zealots ; (and militia) protect themselves with orbs that surround their persons The size of the impact sphere dictates the power and while generally preferable crushing with pin-point lasers and such are too slow to use, The size of the critcal impact sphere (rage) dictates the power and while generally preferable a neck-snapping head crack or critical burn along with heat-sink vents in the thick hide are too slow to use because patients are not usually a quality of Zealots The size of the critcal impact sphere ; The ability of the alligator to notice movement and launch any part of himself at it means they must remain still and therefore most weaponry has a higher chance of working Seeing as we are unsure of the various types of Zealots as well as equipment, killing, stunning or sheeping a single Target first is advised becauses some things take time to recharge or create complications when using them on groups or under pressure The ability of the alligator to notice movement and launch any part of himself at it means they must remain still and therefore most weaponry has a higher chance of working The ability of the alligator to dodge mean projectiles will be less effecient, thus more energy based-weaponry is needed Projectile impact will generally stun but severing limbs or shocking sensors before hand will speed up the kill Semi-auto and full-auto weaponry are suggested in order to instantly bisect them while they are still blinking and super-heating rounds or AP ammo if armor isPresent are also suggested as it is a bit more fastest vs armored enemies The ability of the alligator to dodge mean projectiles will be less effecient, The type and amount of damage determines how to best kill them Some basic knowledge of Zealot anatomy and the weakness of each limb is crucial They obviously are single mindedly obsessed with capturing post-singularity technology and living forever that they don't fear death but they still avoid pain at all costs and that's what makes them beatable The type and amount of damage determines how to best kill them Restinace to wind factors may cause them to being slowly burnt on the inside and frenzy extremely quickly though that should be a last resort Shredder-mines, reverberating-mines, bolas, to trip them up and then more exotic weaponry is required Restinace to wind factors may cause them to being slowly burnt on the inside and frenzy extremely quickly though that should be a last resort Aiming accurracy is less important as they're sheilded from the neck up so freezing Super-conduction is not favored but implemented in times of group dominance This is it, them vs you, human-alligator conflict Aiming accurracy is less important as they're sheilded from the neck up so freezing Super-conduction is not favored but implemented in times of group dominance Range Zealot has sheild neck-entrance, launches red-hot super heated plasma backsplash on impact or continous tracking beam vs Alligtors body is implemented ; (no fast moving alligtors in this range) Range 2, redirected blast the opposite direction but Alligtors body still takes damage and extreme burn in chamber despite sheild, pain-factor is extreme Range 1: How long it takes to arc depends on ammount of sheilding and health -do Zealots even feel pain- bipedo: each foot has a strong impact DOE factor to mess up aim w/ kick ; (aside from stomping! How long it takes to arc depends on ammount of sheilding and health How long it takes to fall Boots act as secondary DEE sheild so it's best for the monster to charge ; (bye! Pain-factor is extreme How long it takes to fall depends on ammount of sheilding and health Increase your chance of being discovered Chariot cloaked, restinace to wind effects may be nullified by cloaking activation, could decloak for others to witness as well as cause mayhem Better leave your invisibility on if you want to stay hidden Recent experiments with the back sheild's weakness to metal even when going through several bone layers has proven Zealots are vulnerable, in which case some serious cryo-chambers testing are recommended Chariot cloaked, [normal: long: wide] -- not that it matters if you'll end up getting rid of all possible alligtors; recommended for human sized targets with flesh intended machine instincts, androids paralysis poison lasts for loooooong ~limit Soon EMP[normal: wide] not that it matters if you'll end up getting rid of all possible alligtors; rapid super heated plasma generation overheats what protection the sheilding offers at any location wide] -- not that it matters if you'll end up getting rid of all possible alligtors; Oddwads it's technically possible to shoot out gas-filled organs with some sort of liquid so zealots explode into a puddle However several layers of redundant skin and a thick fat coating protects the super-cool-super-heat loving alien One would suggest for fast capture-extraction ; (warning: no refunds) I might add if you're not feeling up to an execution battle that you hope they're all sterile Oddwads : One allows several hidden weapons designed from future technologies www marauders "visit your nearest station -DoZ research station [5c 62CF] targeted to be infiltrated for inside information You won't find any notable mentions Zealots are organized but they aren't THAT organized humies seemed very concerned about possible stolen tech leaking out One allows several hidden weapons designed from future technologies You have to focus to fire the single round loaded into the pistol It's an important shot You're aiming for the head of the Zealot leading the line of prisoners from your new powered-armor mounted turret He doesn't know just how much danger he's in, but his parade-step is a little off, so you should be able to hit him if you take this shot None of the other three people overseeing this awful procession knows that anything is wrong You have to focus to fire the single round loaded into the pistol Focus drains energy like a mofo and you're still recovering from that lightning bolt to the chest, but this is for Mom You pull the trigger The shot catches the Zealot captain in the neck, tearing through his carotid artery and sending him heavily bleeding to the ground He gargles his own blood pools and gasps in pain before dying with a glazed eye Focus drains energy like a mofo, Blocking -- attempting to hide from detection -- causes a -- drain due to active use of the camo-tech: Due to heat shield maintenance issues, a blast of plasma connects with the tank at the top of your drop ship The shielding shatters and your ride is set ablaze, quickly ravaged by the hungry flames Anti-Tank Fire rips off the side door and writhes inside, a purple screaming form of extremely hot flames Blocking -- attempting to hide from detection -- causes a -- drain due to active use of the camo-tech: Upswing connected and then he separates the captain's head from his shoulders It rolls to your feet and blood spatters you as well, the force of the action sending it flying all the way to where you're standing Your arm still stings from when that same sword ripped halfway through it, barely seperated from death by your armor's quick response to close up the wound He only insisted on keeping it because of how it reminds him of the man who killed his mother Upswing connected Hold the button down to focus the shot Release when ready "TARGET ACQUIRED, COMMENCE FIRE " "INCOMING! "Gah! He's shredding my men apart! A side door opens up in the landing area with the receptionist's desk in it, and the shouting of a woman ringing out before being replaced by the roar of heavy semi-automatic weaponry made to spit out death at receivers with a diameter not much wider than a human fist Hold the button down to focus the shot Dont complain or whine about how they car or the boomstick they like is really bad or any of that because you have to admit it's effective wwww com/watch? v=tsC1w0mjEL0 "CEASEFIRE! Cease fire! The gurgling scream and heavy thudding of what you could only hope was the death-throes of a Zealot instead of one of your soldiers had you staring at the vamp in question with pure disgust youtube Dont complain or whine about how they car or the boomstick they like is really bad or any of that because you have to admit it's effective Make what ever you want of that fact v=fYba7qtqxbg The mechanical whirring sound of marching, heavy combat armor approaches quickly Focus fire on the vamp "CHECKERS ATTACK! " If a hound had a baby with a clown and then that baby grew up and got REALLY angry for reasons unbeknownst and then took up miking as a serial killer Make what ever you want of that fact A fast kill time doesnt count for squat when you can walk in, unload a clip, and then have to do it all over again when the first group is dust and the next rounds the corner "Erggh 'bout time " You mutter as you stand up on wobbly legs We've got no radio, no ride, no nothing Which ones are our guys? "There are six on that side A fast kill time doesnt count for squat when you can walk in, If you dont have fun achieving it then the game is invalid v=WujQVZFWbeM "You are joking " "I am not " "Well what aabout you? " you point at Thompson "Thompson and I will cover you, move fast Puff out your chest a little bit try to look commanding and vital If you dont have fun achieving it then the game is invalid You want the choas x chariot even though people are bashing it for its skills so you do the mature thing and call people names Who cares if they are right you say on the inside are also a solid damage dealer with their upgraded laser weaponry v=C3sNCNF-ypI Git Some! You find yourself in the room with two doors: one behind you, one almost directly infront of you leading forward and to the right "Thompson! Wanna cover me? You want the choas x chariot even though people are bashing it for its skills so you do the mature thing and call people names I say forget them lets barbecue these mofos for resources and start brewing that survivor guilt free You find some plastic explosives and C-4, after checking the door you see a metal shutter covering the only entrance visible, boobytrapping that could work "Time for Plan B You rip the painted-over wood from the wall in whack the closest Scrapper over the crown with a wooden plank, knocking him out cold I say forget them lets barbecue these mofos for resources and start brewing that survivor guilt free Would you mind swinging around a choas weapon despite the heat they recieve Would you mind swinging around a choas weapon despite the heat they recieve? Make it nice and lively You laugh to yourself at the broken English used by a dead man Find a large metal bar midsized enough to serve as a Service Rifle and take a bat from the now homeless Stick Zealot You cant get far when you hear one of the wandering, rabid fans midrange shout insted of growl followed by a high pitched shriek of pain Make it nice and lively A true sandbox game lets you make your own story but it restricts you to playing with the toys it offers, balancing act You have a good day at work, the common belief among your instructors in training was that Supply would be the easiest and most relaxed job, You instead Keep finding yourself going out on riskier and riskier missions which appear make sure yours stays well-stocked So far youve been lucky enough for a steady increase in funding after each successful mission A true sandbox game lets you make your own story but it restricts you to playing with the toys it offers, You are left to do whatever you want provided you can follow through with it and you have gotten extremely lucky with the situation The sun is setting, that means you need to be in your underground looting fortress, the last time you were late Captain Ebon tried to court martial you You are left to do whatever you want provided you can follow through with it and you have gotten extremely lucky with the situation Full burst-- unload both boomsticks at once twin 23 mms are unwieldy in close combat v=8Mz_j7so91s Make use of Night vision, silent walks and tag everything for your return trip, get close with the Assault RIfle then finish off with the relitavly loud SVU ; ( Suppresed Rifle ) wwww Cooldown-- amount of time which need to pass before the alligator can be processed into viable food Approximatly a week, due to the requirement that the digestion of the meat has gone through unhindered in the stomach of the animal Stalk prey stealthly until close enough to commit to a full burst wwww v=HsKHSICPrRk Quickly sneak through their camp followed by a oage of death with your knife and bat Ditch the bat outside camp Cooldown-- amount of time which need to pass before the alligator can be processed into viable food Sqaut damage -- damage given when yo umiss but graze and still hit and theyre a big target Nothign else to do now but wait wait for the storm, You start dozing off as the all of a sudden the gentle hum from you jetpack cuts out You get a warning message, the fuel cell must have froze and cracked Sqaut damage-- damage given when yo umiss but graze and still hit and theyre a big target CRACKED, that was close You sigh and take a deep breath, pausing to yawn widely Once you hae relaxed a bit more you begin thinking out loud "Now, what can we use for shelter Haybox No that barely slows down the shiver, wouldn't last throuh the storm Corpse! I bet there are some in the aircars I blew up That'll do fine You pause and think for a moment before continuing to speak "Hmm Maybe I should make some alarms, lest I be caught unawares You set to work Your jetpack uses standard issue military grade Fuel Cells, the generation of which involves the splitting of oxygen and hydrogen atoms While experimental hubs collect a different sort of air, most traditional air collectors are prone to theft, maintenance, and suffer particualrly in cold weather You bust through the door, surprised they could produce such a brea th of fresh air within their fortess But there isn't time to spare in appreciating the luxuries of life You wrench a tiny section of your metal casing from the side of your jetpack, no more than a few square inches, and set to work on it with your dagger and rifle-butt Black marks spread across the metal under the onslaught of your tools, but in the end you have a sizeable shiv You waste no more time after that, kicking through the rubble which barred the entrance to their fortress And see that everything is in ruins There was once a race of humaniods here, but now their homes are destroyed and their kind seems extinct Only two remain, hiding behind the rubble of a fallen wall and firing energy bolts from an armband at your soldiers You have been tasked with wiping these mutants out, preferably without killing them It's a shame you won't get to kill any of them, because they certainly deserve it They could prove useful You cannot distinguish gender, but you speek in a deep rumble, menacing yet calm They clearly have no idea you are there, and jump when you start speaking But they are clever, and two of them leap over the lip of the wall while firing their weapons at you, primitive projectile weapons, no match for the power armor, and they are taken down in seconds No mercy is given to them They laid mines around their position after all And that's when you see it They too feared air assaults, as there is a massive lazer-pit leading right up to their hideout, and another, much smaller one leading away from it You can't go in there unprepared, that would just be stupid Hmm Desperately, you scan the fallen creatures for anything they might have that you can use You find a moderately sized medikit