#to keep handing the thing over in the face of the guardian's objections AND the mounting evidence that there is no safety here

[blackjackkent]

Poor Hector is not at all feeling optimistic at present, and I don't really blame him. The zaith'isk ordeal really did a number on him and he's completely unsure what the right and wrong actions are here, or who is a friend and who is an enemy.

The deep recesses of the monastery here appear to have been dug out of a sort of cave or canyon area. (Odd choice for a monastery devoted to the god of dawn.) It's full of bats and (I assume) bat dung and just generally very ominous-feeling.

And there he is, the man himself:

Sir, your office looks fuckin' awful.

Honestly surprised he didn't oust Therezzyn out of her office rather than take this super cracked-up area.

"Ahhh...our esteemed guest," he says as Hector approaches. The door behind them clangs shut with a heavy, uncomfortably final sort of noise. "Please approach. We have much to discuss."

The gith inquisitor has a surprisingly gentle voice and looks them over appraisingly as they move into the room.

"My ardents spoke of one of our kin that escaped a crashing ghaik slave-vessel."

"Ch'r'ai," Lae'zel says reverently. "Vlaakith's justice in flesh."

The man's sharp features twist in a slow smile. "You have accomplished much, child. I am pleased to finally meet you." His gaze shifts to Hector, and the warmth falls away, replaced by a piercing intensity. "I hear there is so much goblin blood on your hands that it soaks their children's nightmares."

It is not a description that brings Hector any pleasure. He frowns, flinches back slightly, and the inquisitor smirks tightly, knowingly. "To business. I suspect you plucked something precious from the ghaik ship. Something that belongs to us." The smile fades, replaced by a firm authority that expects no disobedience. "The weapon. Give it to me."

"Don't do it..." wails the dream guardian in Hector's mind. "The weapon is how I protect you!"

"Do it," Lae'zel insists in counterpoint. "Do not disobey the inquisitor."

Hector hesitates, puts his hand on the artifact in his pack...then pauses, and tries a different kind of truth. "I can't," he says honestly. "It protects me."

He has gone along with everything thus far because he hopes... desperately... that Lae'zel could be right. That the gith purify their infected. That those who have already responded otherwise were part of some conspiracy. That this man is their ally.

And if all those things are true, telling him of the artifact's power over their safety is not only valid but necessary.

And if they aren't...

The inquisitor's expression goes hard. "Indeed? And what does it protect you from?"

"The voice of the Absolute," Hector says. Honest. Steady. Direct...

And his worst fears are confirmed. All around him, the guards in the room draw their crossbows and sight down on the group, and W'wargaz draws the enormous greatsword from his back with a single, lithe movement.

"If you hear that voice at all, you are infected," the inquisitor snarls. Any pretense of welcome or good humor has vanished. "And it is my people who need protecting from you! Hta'zith!"

Shit.

[cemeteryspider]

Hi! Ok I’m here with my request I was wondering if I can request Rex dating a fem!reader who’s like raven from dc? Like powers and all that and Rex is just so in love with her 😔(May it please be like dating hc’s? Please and thank you🫶🫶🫶)

Rex-Splode Dating Headcanons

Rex-Splode! Rex Sloan x Raven! Reader

Trigger Warnings: Nightmares

Word Count: 925

You met Rex during Guardians of the Globe tryouts. You had also seen him get his ass beat by Monster Girl. Luckily, after this incident, he was less of a douche overall.

However, things changed once the Guardians started to become a team. He would try his best to be around you whenever he could. You would be running on the treadmill, and then all of a sudden he was running next to you. You could be making a sandwich, and he would be making his right next to you. Or you would sit and read your book, and he would scroll on his phone near you, occasionally glancing up at you when he thought you didn't notice. You did.

Then one day when you were pummeling a punching bag, he asked if you would like to get coffee sometime. You knew he had feelings for you, and you felt in your bones you should say yes.

A date to an art gallery and one dinner later, you and Rex made it official and told the team, who seemed shocked. Either you were exceptionally good at hiding your relationship, or they just couldn't believe you would date Rex.

~~~

You love your personal space, Rex also loves your personal space. The two of you could be walking down the street, it would have to be hand-in-hand, or maybe his hand would be in your back pocket. This annoyed you to no end at first but quickly you understood the constant wanting to be close to you was because he wanted to protect you. You would never admit it, but you loved him.

His favorite time to be in your personal space is during a fight. He would bottle the feeling of you guys standing back to back using your powers to protect each other. When you crushed invading aliens who wanted to kill him, he never felt safer. You made him feel safe.

Simply, he loves to make you laugh and smile. Even though you keep a straight face and hard demeanor around other people, you are a totally different person than when you were with Rex. Somehow his silly sarcastic personality leaked through into yours, and he could make you giggle without even trying.

He loves to see you train with the other Guardians, especially Invincible. Being from a demonic bloodline, you could go toe-to-toe with the Viltrumite, without too much damage, and more often than not you would best the newer hero. After all, you could practically tear Mark apart with the darkness you controlled if you wanted to.

Of course, he hated when he had to fight you. Not because he was scared he would hurt you, no, he was scared you would hurt him. Even going easy on him, you would beat Rex easily. Teleporting away from any explosives he threw your way, and wrapping smokey black tendrils of darkness around him or, as gently as possible, throwing him into a wall with your telekinesis.

You would always apologize profusely after taking him down, but he would always reassure you that he loved you and your powers. Maybe you would even explore using your powers in more intimate places in the future.

~~~

However, once in a battle with Machine Head and his goons, you start to be overwhelmed with the other's pain. When Rex saw you fall to your knees all he could see was red. You held your head in your hands and started to feel yourself lose control.

Your eyes glazed over black, and you screamed. At this point, Rex had just taken out Machine Head and started running over to you as objects all around you started to float and shake. Kneeling next to you, he took your hands in his.

"Hey, babe, come back to me, everything is going to be okay. You just need to come back," Everyone who wasn't passed out on the ground looked at the tense scene in front of them.

They all knew what could happen if you truly lost control of yourself. You had once leveled a skyscraper only to rebuild it moments later.

Still, some part of you listened to Rex and allowed yourself to come back to wherever in your mind you retreated to. You allowed yourself a vulnerable moment, letting yourself slump into Rex's arms. He held you tight until the medics arrived, and still held your hand when you were carried away on a stretcher, even though you promised you could walk.

~~~

Rex could never let anything bad happen to his girl. You were his everything and the only person he would let his sarcastic walls down for. You appreciated the black roses, and eventually black dahlias he would get you after telling him it was your favorite flower.

He would bandage your wounds after a battle, once you took care of him because you always insisted on patching him up first. Kiss your bruises whenever he sees them. He would put his arms around you when he saw your eyes unfocus and zone out, and bring you back to reality.

He would tell you he loved you at every chance he got and showed you off every time he got the chance.

"Look at this picture of my girlfriend, she's so hot"

"Did you see her fight? She's just so amazing"

"Ah she just makes me feel, so differently than I ever have before"

He practically drooled every time you walked by him. He loves the way you look. Anything you wear he wants to rip off of you and start to kiss every part of you. It could be your skin-tight leotard and cape, your casual sweater and jeans look, or your silly Rex-Splode pajamas he got you as a joke.

(The pajamas do something to him idk)

~~~

Rex has always helped you with the nightmares that plague you when you sleep. When Rex lost his hand in the fight against the Lizard League, you still regret not being there, you helped him through his nightmares. Soothing his mind and, with his permission, lulled him back to sleep with your powers. He knew that subconsciously you were calming him down to the best of your ability, and he knew why he always slept better when you were around. 

You treated Rex like more than he ever saw himself as, and he didn’t treat you like the monster you felt you were. You each healed something inside the other, and if that’s not love then you don’t know what is.

[callmelyc]

Can you imagine how deeply Keith misses Lance post war?

But not the Lance of that moment, no.

The Lance of before the war ended. The one that was his right hand/co leader, the one that kept him afloat when shiro went missing again, the one that he'd grown close to.

Because now all he sees when he looks at the boy he loves, is a shell.

In his dreams it's always the Lance without the marks, the Lance that had a smile actually reach his eyes, the Lance that would laugh genuinely and so bright.

Keith goes on a mission to find some lost object and it leads him to a woman known for helping do just that.

She throws Keith and his team into a blank dreamscape saying the guardian of lost things will take shape of ones deepest trust. Ones deepest love, ones deepest wish.

The gaurdian takes the shape of Paladin Lance. The one that used to confide in him, the one that used to spend so much time with him.

Keith is frozen still as he looks at a Lance that's so happy, so playful. Nothing at all like the Lance he'd grown used to seeing now.

The guardian dances around him teasingly with Lances voice, with his smile, with his laugh.

Someone asks why it's Lance and the gaurdian chuckles in a way Keith hadn't heard from real Lance in years.

"because..." Those blue eyes focus in on Keith with the brightest twinkle "Keith missed me the most~"

The guardian steps closer running a hand across Keith's arm as he walks around him in observation. "I simply took the appearance of his heart, he trusts this face so I will Keep it as I guide you."

No one says anything else and Keith's eyes never once leave that face. No Altean markings, no visible depression, no dulled skin.

He's so unfairly alive it hurts. Keith never thought he mourned someone still living so deeply but he did. He was mourning a Lance that no longer existed.

Once the objects location is shown to them the gaurdian turns to Keith for the final time. This time he wears a gentle smile, eyes soft and filled with worry "you love him don't you?"

Keith doesn't even have to think "I do."

The gaurdian is silent for a moment as if milling over its options "speak to him, he is lost too."

And they wake up with the missing object sitting safely in Keith's hands.

All he can think about though is Lances face, young and free.

[ilongfor-the-arts]

Could you do a fanfic where the marquis meets the reader in a museum and they bond over their live of art

Meet Me in the Hallway

Pairing: Vincent de Gramont x fem! Reader

Warnings: VERY mild language

Summary: *in req*

Word Count: 2.3k

The Louvre has maintained a particular place in my heart for as long as I can remember. As a child, I recall visiting during tourist season. The other children darted around, driving their guardians to the brink of insanity. However, I stood in front of the immense paintings, carefully analyzing each aspect of the art. I remember visiting The Louvre as a teenager during the winter, when the immense corridors were barren. I'd find a place to sit and ponder, observing faces and objects in the quiet halls. I recall taking advantage of any occasion to talk about art with friends and family.

My friends were perplexed by my preoccupation. When I rambled on, they would nod and appear to be attentive. But I could always tell by the look on their faces that they were eager for my rant to end.

I've always been drawn to art's beauty. One bad stroke, one outburst of rage, and the finished result may be jeopardized. Art is more than just a painting or a sculpture; it is a way of life. You must be able to look beyond what the eye can see in order to produce art. You must be able to view the world in a completely unique way. You must look for a message behind the eyes rather than simply viewing things analytically. Painters paint, artists interpret.

That is what separates the good from the iconic.

I enjoyed the near silence as I wandered through The Louvre. Because it being January, the museum was nearly totally populated with a sprinkle of wandering locals. I took a tour around my favorite section, French paintings 1780-1850. The gold frames stood out against the dark burgundy walls.

The atmosphere was serene. As night fell, the hallway was illuminated exclusively by a few fluorescent lights. The sensation that washed over me was one of sheer nostalgia and amazement.

The dimness of room 700, when combined with the massive displays showcasing the complexity of the human mind, gave off an ominous vibe. There was everything and nothing at the same time.

Nothing else on the planet can make you feel this way.

I proceeded to one of the most well-known works of art in the entire museum.

Ah, one of my favorites, Liberty Leading the People. Eugene Delacoix created this work of art in the year 1830. Delacoix depicts a scene during the July Revolution of 1830, when King Charles X-

Woah.

My gaze was drawn to a man sitting on a beautiful white couch.

I tightened my teeth to keep my jaw from dropping to the floor.

He was breathtakingly beautiful.

Was he a tourist?

No way, no how. No tourist would dress up in an expensive three-piece black suit to visit the Louvre. He's got to be a local.

He was staring at the enormous painting, his mind fixed in deep thought. Many locals stopped to look at the paintings, but he seemed to be examining every face and object.

Should I introduce myself? It would be the polite thing to do as I’ve been obviously staring at him for-

“Did no one ever tell you it’s rude to stare?”

My trance was broken by his velvety accent. I hid my gitters by slipping my hands into the pockets of my beige trenchcoat.

“I’m sorry,” I said smugly, “You caught my eye.”

He sneered, a slight smirk playing on the edges of his lips. He couldn't take his gaze away from the painting. I swallowed, unsure how to dispel the uneasiness. The man uncrossed his lanky legs and pushed himself up to his full height.

He's tall, Jesus.

He strolled over to the picture, decreasing the distance between himself and the work of art to a few feet. He cocked his head upwards, his gaze wandering over the magnificent painting's many intricacies. The man put his hand on his hip and pushed his jacket to the side, revealing an astonishing variety of golden buttons along his vest.

“What do you think of this one?”

He asked, motioning with his free hand towards the canvas. I followed his movements, taking in the painting I know and adore.

“It’s a beautiful piece of art.”

I said hesitantly. The man chuckled, turning his head to meet my gaze. Despite being only three feet away, I found myself completely engrossed in his captivating green eyes.

“That’s it? It’s beautiful?”

His smirk now more prevalent than before. I exhaled a shuddery breath.

“Well, it’s one of the most famous paintings in art history. I think it's wonderful how this artwork has become a universal emblem of liberty and freedom from oppressive dominance.”

The man raised his eyebrows and nodded.

“That’s excellent insight. It’s good to meet people with an appreciation for the finer things in life.”

He returned his gaze to the canvas, motioning with his fingers for me to come towards him.

“Come closer, look at this.”

I was hesitant to approach this intimidating man, but my curiosity was far too strong to ignore. So I narrowed the gap between us to a mere six inches. As I took up a place next to him, our sides nearly brushed against each other.

He raised his finger to the stunning representation of liberty.

Take note of her features, such as her straight nose, plump lips, and delicate chin. They all look like antique Greek and Roman statues. She pays homage to both Ancient Greece, the birthplace of democracy, and Roman republican culture.”

I narrowed my eyes, mentally applying his words to the painting.

“Here, look at this,” I began, pointing to the left side of the painting.

“See that guy with the pistol? He's wearing a shirt but no jacket. He belongs to the lower class. But look at the man next to him; he's wearing a top hat, jacket, and vest. He belongs to the upper class. Delacroix aimed to include all classes of people in the fight against royalist oppression.”

The man exhaled in amazement.

“How fascinating. Delacroix’s artistic vision is truly unmatched.”

“I agree. This piece is probably my favorite in the entire museum.”

The man shrugged nonchalantly.

“It is certainly impressive. But my favorite would have to be Venus de Milo.”

He shifted his head to face me, sweeping his gaze up and down my figure. I shuddered, his heated gaze making me feel like I was under scrutiny.

“However, I suppose that opinion could simply be mine because I enjoy the presence of a beautiful woman.”

Holy shit was he flirting with me?

Heat climbed onto my cheekbones. I hoped my flush wasn't too visible, as his gaze was still fixed on me. I chuckled awkwardly.

“I suppose that could certainly contribute to your fondness of the piece.”

He motioned towards the white couch.

“Here, sit, let’s talk.”

He sat closer than I had expected. Our thighs were almost touching, and the arm slung around the back of the couch was almost brushing my shoulders. Despite the color on my cheeks and my minor intimidation of the man's large stature, I felt strangely at ease. I was intrigued rather than nervous. He exuded mystery, and I had every intention of unraveling the web of secrets.

“Do you believe talent like this is given at birth, or developed as the individual grows?”

I licked my lips, carefully contemplating my next words.

“Well, I believe we are all born blank canvases, and if we find something we are exceptionally passionate about, then we can grow those specific talents.”

I swallowed, hoping he was satisfied with that reply.

“How about you?”

“Oh, I believe people with true artistic talent are born with promise. Because if we go by your logic, anyone who loves art has the potential to become the next Delacroix.”

Wow, he was certainly quite the intellectual.

“Well, allow me to elaborate. Anyone can become a mediocre artist if they try,” I began, “but yes, I agree with you, only a few are born with the promise of artistic greatness. I mean, someone like Coco Chanel could never become the next Van Gogh or Delacroix, it just isn't meant to be. That isn’t where her talents lie.”

The man's lips curved into a smile. I locked my attention on his lovely green eyes. We were closer than I had imagined. His breath was cascading across my face. I inhaled sharply. He smelt amazing, like an expensive floral fragrance. It crept into my head, confounding my already hazy thinking.

“I like you… Miss…”

“Y/N, Y/N Y/L/N.”

His smile widened even more, splitting his face to reveal a stunning row of white teeth.

“What a gorgeous name... It’s fitting, a gorgeous name for a gorgeous woman.”

His accent was dripping with charm. There was no way in hell this man didn't have a significant other. He was far too enticing and attractive to be single.

“You know, plenty of people wander these halls, knowing every name of every piece. Yet they don’t contemplate the true meaning of the art.”

His eyes were drawn to Liberty Leading the People. The man’s tone became somewhat agitated as he ran his tongue along his smooth bottom lip, his eyes narrowing.

“They only think about the art, they don’t contemplate it.”

He inhaled deeply, his chest softly rising and sinking beneath the pricey cloth.

“Thinking is simple, thinking is the most simple thing in the entire universe for humankind. Anyone can think, but not everyone can contemplate.”

I concur. It was pleasant to meet a thinker who cared so deeply about the beauty of art.

“Who’s your favorite painter?”

My face broke into a genuine smile.

“Paul Cezanne.”

“And why is that, Miss. Y/N Y/L/N.”

I adored how he said my name. It rolled off his tongue effortlessly, like butter on a hot pan. I could spend the entire day sitting next to him on a couch at the Louvre, listening to him utter my name.

“Well, because his distinct color-building technique and his analytical approach to nature had a great impact on the art of Cubists, Fauves, and many generations of avant-garde artists.”

I've never encountered somebody who would listen to my raving with such enthusiasm. And there was no one who properly comprehended my words and had the knowledge to respond intelligently. Not only on the subject of art, but also on the issue of life.

“Ah!”

He exclaimed, shooting a finger towards me.

“There it is!”

His hand fell to his lap.

“You, Miss Y/N Y/L/N, do not just think, you were born with the gift of careful contemplation.”

I'd dated a few men previously, but none had ever made me feel as great as this mysterious man. And I'd only known him for about 30 minutes. My eyes lit up with wonder when I heard his voice, and I hung on to every word with excitement.

“You have a dizzying intellect.”

His velvety tone dropped to an endearing whisper. My stomach flipped.

“It is very rare I meet a woman with such beauty, not only in her appearance, but in her demeanor as well.”

His long fingers pushed a stray hair behind my ear. I nearly flinched before realizing the gesture was benign. I could still feel his contact on my cheek after he removed his fingertips. He set fire to every nerve he came into contact with.

“Will you grant me the opportunity to become your acquaintance?”

His eyes were filled with anticipation. There it was, the date I'd been looking forward to throughout the duration of this conversation.

“I would like that very much Mr…”

“Vincent de Gramont.”

I hummed in delight.

“That’s a handsome name. It’s fitting, a handsome name for a handsome man.”

I said, slightly mocking his previous remark.

Vincent chuckled.

“Oh, you are a comedian as well. I like you more and more as time goes on.”

Vincent waited for a beat of silence before rising to his full height. Being the one seated while he stood certainly flipped the script. I felt small under his demeanor as his presence was felt throughout the room. He was comfortable in his own skin, demanding control of the atmosphere like a conductor.

“My bodyguards will ensure that you have all the information necessary to find my estate.”

Bodyguards?!

He indicated to two men in gray suits who were standing with their backs against the nearest maroon wall.

Wow.

I surely hoped they wouldn’t be hanging around when I finally seized the opportunity to speak with Vincent in private.

“Wonderful.”

“My estate is beautiful if I do have to say so myself. You will enjoy it.”

I can only imagine how magnificent his house was if this was the suit he decided to wear for a chance visit to a museum.

“There is lots of space, plenty of rooms to explore and places to sit and talk for hours.”

I couldn't keep a smile from breaking my face. Who would have guessed that when I walked into the Louver today, I'd walk out with a lovely new date?

“That sounds like a dream come true. I can’t wait to see it.”

Vincent returned my grin.

“I can not wait for you to see it. You will melt.”

He extended his hand. I hesitated for a moment before realizing he wanted me to lay my palm in his. Vincent leaned down and kissed the top of my hand in an exceedingly trendy gesture.

Wow, very gentlemanly.

If my cheeks weren’t pink before, they surely were bright red now.

“Thank you for granting me the pleasure of becoming your acquaintance, I look forward to seeing you around my estate.”

After his departure, I remained seated on the couch. I was unable to move, wanting to preserve the moment for as long as possible

[taraljc]

every time I watch the scenes of SCORPIA training their operatives it's really driven home how much they don't want leaders they want soldiers who will blindly follow orders.

When Alex refuses to shoot the silhouette of a person, everyone tells him he has to get over it. but actual intelligence gathering organisations full of operatives who practice their tradecraft treat any individual as a potential asset.

It makes absolutely zero sense not to try to turn someone instead of just killing them out right.

I think that's why Julia was blindsided by John Rider. And also every single time someone fails in their mad plan to rule the world it's because of ego. Greif, Cray, Julia--even Kellner (Home Secretary), all of them fail because of hubris and ego. And the thing that I actually like about Yassen as an antihero is that you really see that he has zero ego about his work. He knows that he is good at his job and he takes pride in his skill but he feels no need to peacock at all. he has nothing to prove to anyone. he makes decisions and he doesn't second-guess them and that includes deciding to be an incredibly homicidal guardian angel for one Alex Rider for as long as the kid keeps popping up in the middle of SCORPIA missions.

just the look on his face when Damien Cray showed him the footage from the pre-launch and you can see the gears turning as he's trying to play it off his it's a kid don't worry about it no big deal and he's like you can see the little hamster on the wheel trying to figure out if the Department is actually investigating Cray or if Alex has just managed to once again blindly wander directly into an active operation and then he jumps through flaming hoops to make sure Cray doesn't kill the kid at the airfield.

I kind of wonder if Syl was written to be a foil for Yassen specifically. The Rider boys continue the proud tradition of corrupting the next generation of SCORPIA agents by showing them kindness and compassion and basic human decency.

Also the thing that I love the most about series 3 is seeing Kyra and Tom working together to save the day. It is possibly my favourite thing. Tom has gone from how dare you you have stolen my dream (top of the Feathered Serpent leaderboard) and are clearly trying to steal my best mate (not to mention shooting one-handed baskets over and over again in the school gymnasium) to really trusting her and liking her because they both know that the most important person in their life is Alex and that they will both do anything to keep Alex safe.

Kyra has finally internalised the idea that other people can be objectively good. that they can continue to choose to be good no matter how much it infuriates her because she simply cannot wrap her head it not because she's antisocial but because she has never been cherished and cared for this way before. When Tom is trying to explain to her that she and Alex have a thing for each other and she just looks at him like he's doing another stupid Star Wars quote and he just realises that she really doesn't know and instead of teasing her about it just drops it.

However long they've been traveling around the world (and I'm not entirely sure thousands of miles makes any kind of sense Europe's just not that big) they have at least spent their school holiday together without killing each other and that's pretty amazing when you think about it.

I also really hope that Jack and Mrs Jones get to know each other better not because I 'ship them although I am not going to lie I have my moments (I also have extensive headcanon about Ian and Mrs Jones that may or may not ever actually go anywhere.) but I really like the fact that Mrs Jones goes out of her way to go find Jack and be like hey this is a really great time to go on holiday I think you should visit your family as far away from the UK as humanly possible ok bye.

I think Mrs Jones and Jack understand each other and even like each other and are definitely bonded in their mutual desire for Alan Blunt to not be such a dick. and I love that Smithers is also on team our boss is a dick let's protect our teenagers.

[castor-tech-ghoul]

Ooc post!

Alright fuckers (affectionate) I'm gonna post some rambles about this little fucker's backstory, trauma, and overall context bc eventually I'm gonna write a ficlet based off @anotherbananasong world build >:]

So, the tea about Castor (my top favorite oc tbh)

Ah yes, cw for death, abuse, irresponsible use of ghouls and their abilities, ptsd, and violence

They were originally summoned by a young, reckless Nihil before he became Papa, and he was still a Cardinal. The Summoning was intense and it happened to go in the record book of strongest rituals and ghouls to be summoned (though those records were beaten by Copia later, but that's a different story.)

Castor had been the strongest air ghoul to be summoned in decades, tied by contract to this... immature little shit. Naturally, Nihil abused this power and made Castor an attack dog. Anyone who defied, displeased, or had beef with Nihil had to face off with a tall ass, feral, all-powerful Air Ghoul. More than once has Cas watched the light leave the eyes of ghouls and humans alike as they suffocated them, siphoning the oxygen from their lungs and brains with just a mere look. More than once has the ghoul done the opposite and filled someone's body with so much oxygen that they simply exploded like a meat balloon.

Nihil reveled in the power he had at his finger tips, the most powerful Papa of the time thanks to Castor, and Cas reveled in the fear and respect they evoked from anyone who dared to catch the golden eyes of the pale demon.

Decades passed of not just Nihil, but Seestor too, using the ghoul to their advantage. Attacking and maiming anyone who asked too many questions or stepped out of line too often. Eventually, Seestor attempted to "retire" the air ghoul, changing their contract once more to be a guardian of three children important to the Emeritus bloodline. Sister Imperator had since paid off the boys' real mother's and sent them to fancy places far, far from the ministry, so they would not threaten her place beside Nihil any further.

Castor, in their own way, was fond of the boys. They had protected them the way they were taught, with violence and threats. It was all they knew, blood on their claws and face was familiar and to do it in honor of keeping the bloodline alive was the greatest feeling, it even came with an alarming amount of scars to prove their worth.

It was a pleasant feeling until one day in particular. The ghoul was watching the three boys like a ghost, following and all seeing. They had requested an outing to the courtyard and Cas merely followed behind, glaring at everyone who greeted the children until they were amongst the gardens that were kept alive by earth magick from deep in the forest. Castor had gotten distracted watching Primo and Secondo play with a bunny they had found, they almost missed the sound of Terzo yelping in pain. Almost.

In an instant, the Air Ghoul was beside the youngest of the brothers, ready to kill whoever had dared to lay a hand on their responsibility. The thing about all those decades of murder, torture (both for fun and necessity), and over all cruelty, is that it eventually catches up on someone. Especially someone as old as Cas. They didn't even register that the "threat" was a Sibling of Sin's teenager, all they saw was the object and cause of Terzo's distress and they did what they knew best thanks to all those decades with Nihil and Imperator. They lunged for the teen, gold eyes blazing, a growl deep enough to vibrate the very ground under them, and claws outstretched to punish the boy...

They didn't even hear Terzo cry out, a tiny but determined voice, "Cas! No!"

The young Emeritus had dove between the teenager and the Air Ghoul's claws, which instead found their mark on Terzo's arm before they managed to pull back. The two of them stared at each other for a heartbeat, the teen running off and Terzo's brothers coming to the rescue far too late. More crying filled the air now, and it was the worst, most heart-wrenching sound Castor had heard in years.

The injury hadn't been too bad in all honesty. It was mainly just scary to the seven year old boy. Just a couple stitches was all it needed and he healed quickly thanks to the aid of quintessence from Sister Imperator's chamber ghoulette. But while Terzo's wound hadn't been severe, the threat of Castor upon the boy had been grand. Seestor no longer wanted the feral ghoul near the boys, not now that Copia had been born as well. Nihil had unfortunately agreed with her.

The air ghoul had been dragged before the council, which mainly consisted of Sister Imperator, her chamber ghoulettes, Nihil and his other ghouls, and of course Mr. Saltarian. Castor had feared the worst, that they would be hurtled head first back into the Pit. That they would feel this vessel and their very being get scorched and melted down to the bones and soul residing inside until they were nothing but air again. Oh, but fate had been much worse than that for them.

After a lot of consideration, Sister sat forward and sneered down at the ghoul. The ghoul who had never been anything but loyal and strong for them, a rock for their weak mortality and morals to lean on and abuse. She spoke calmly and sternly while Nihil almost looked... sorry. Not sorry enough apparently, as Sister Imperator ordered her quintessence ghoulette to pin Castor down, they were too strong and valuable to cast back into the Hearth and the Pit. Instead, the ghoulette forced her quintessence into their mind, ravaging and picking out every memory since being summoned by Nihil and locking it all away into a gold and ivory plated box in the back of their mind, only to be opened by a quintessence ghoul with immense power and complete control over their element. The Ministry couldn't have them being wild, feral, and bloodthirsty. But that power was too valuable to waste, so instead, they wiped the slate clean entirely.

When Castor awoke, Primo was Papa, and Secondo was Cardinal. They were standing in the summoning chamber, looking wild and confused as The Second laid claim to their soul and bound them to not only him, but all his brothers as well. As far as Castor is aware, they're just a lower level air ghoul. They don't question the scars littered across their body anymore, assuming all the memories of them are repressed from how terrible it must have been, and the brothers say nothing of it either. So what if Castor has night terrors now, waking up to the feeling of blood and flesh on their claws and fangs? So what if their scars throb after those night terrors of gnashing teeth and blazing heat or unmovable earth or unrelenting water? Who cares if they look in the mirror sometimes, not certain of who they are with this nagging feeling that something is wrong? What mattered is that they don't remember what happened before, they're just the tech ghoul now, the one who keeps the shows together and running smoothly. Cardinal Copia's favorite little air ghoul with such pretty pale blue, light grey, and white wings that have little gold flecks...

[airplanned]

10 First Lines Challenge

Rules: Share the first line of your last ten published works or as many as you are able to and see if there are any patterns!

This is interesting. I might do this for the last ten short stories I've written, just for myself and see if there's anything to be noticed.

Zoro's soulmate turns out to be dumb as fuck. (A Me for You. ⋆⋆⋆⋆ We have a tone.)

One of Sanji's favorite things in the world is to shower the objects of his affections with sweet words and kind gestures. (Like Clockwork. Kinda generic start, but again, this is the tone.)

Luffy has taken to jumping on people. (Not Special. ⋆⋆⋆⋆. This sets a scene, and then makes you ask where I'm going with this)

Sooga held the little girl aloft by the scruff of her neck as she snarled like a wet cat, trying and failing to stab him with the knife in her hand. (Ruin of the Yiga. Heck yeah, that paints a picture!)

Zelda sat alone on the abbey’s roof at night. (Silence. This is not a strong start, but it's also a very vibe-heavy piece, so you know what you're getting here.)

"I wish the boat had sunk and the sheep had drowned," Zelda's advisor muttered over the flagon of ale that he was determined not to drink in her presence. (Set it to a Catchy Tune. This sets up a scene, and also raises questions. Nice.)

Zelda's hands are sweating. (K.K. Ballad. This is not a strong start, but it is a sequel, so it's not really intended to catch new people.)

“Zone three today, right?” Link asks, and Zelda is inordinately pleased that he’s using her terminology. (How to Build a Bridge. Not super catchy, but it sets up a scene and an emotion, and again, this is a sequel.)

A guardian was following him. (This Guardian has a Flower Crown. This isn't a strong sentence on its own, but since it's fanfic, you know right off the bat that that's bad news.)

Zelda stormed down the hallway, her sleeves and dress billowing behind her, the rage on her face keeping everyone at bay. (All the Trashy Novels. Yessss. There's an emotion there and it's cinematic. Nice.)

So I think I do a good job of setting a tone. It's quality if I can set a scene to ground a reader. It's quality if I can be funny or raise questions that draw the reader forward. It's rare that I can do all three of these, but that's alright!

[sane-omblog]

9 Days of Solomon— Day 3: Knife

Purgatory Hall gang in the kitchen.

-I can't think of any warning but if there is plz let me know!

“Okay care to explain yourself, Solomon?” The angel towered over the said sorcerer who kept his face down yet with smile. “What did we talk about you in the kitchen?”

“Is not allowed,” he laughed to himself faintly.

“Because?”

“I might 'accidentally' cast a spell or misplaced some stuff amd that make you and Luke confused.” Solomon stated it clearly that's what the two angels told him. He continued before Simeon could ask “I just want to help you said you're going to be busy tonight so..”

Simeon seemed to not pleased by what he just heard but his expression didn't fallen. That's the scary part of his It's soften though, angels like him are kind regardless. “I appreciate your generous intention, but the fact that you break our promise is still there.”

Solomon pulled out his guilty face, made the angel sigh “Another reason is: I'm afraid for your safety, understand?”

That made the human even more confused, he had make a several dishes and meal by now, plus he can protect himself why that should be a problem now “it's not my first time cooking, you know? You need not to worry”

Simeon sighed again, he noticed the little angel walked in the room behind him and asked about what happened and why he is now sitting on the floor. The older angel gesture him to stand up right, and he was thankful of it he didn't think he could sit like that any longer.

“All right, you can help with this dinner but why don't you show Luke how you grab the knife so he can understand.” He looked not so sure about his own decision but Solomon didn't wait for his second thought and grabbed the knife.

Suddenly, Luke was hid behind his guardian with a shock expression. “I have to admit your way of holding knife is kind of.. weird, it's not so friendly let's say that”

Luke, sheepishly, words out “You looks like that scary guy in horror movie Leviathan make me watch with” Solomon thought he must meant the murderer from some B grade movie, but he hold the knife just fine he sure, it's not like he will drop it and harm anyone “It's like you about to stab someone, with that smiley face of yours”

The human gasped, no one ever told him it gave out that vibe, or again no one really saw his cooking process. He let out a faint ‘oh’ then looked down at his hand and tried to recall how Simeon hold it to follow but couldn't do it perfectly.

“I think we can use this opportunity to teach you how to make it less.. dangerous? So that at least you can help us chopping some ingredients ” The angel said after a short while he trying.

That's the first time ever someone offer him a chance to help in cooking-a chance after once banned, normally it's permanent so this is first- of course he gladly accepted it “Sure thing Simeon”

Simeon taught him since the first step not just to hold a knife but he started from how to wash the vegetables to how to place his hand on the things to cut, what the size of the ingredients should be, and so much more. But hey he enjoyed it, and he could see Luke listen to it as well since, much to his displeased, he was too young to concern with sharp objects and the older angel forbid him from them. He promised to teach him when he older though.

“It's not fair, Simeon always chop them for me when I want to bake...” He could hear the little angel grumbled and he couldn't stop the urge to tease him

“ haha guess you have to be patient, kid ” and wow how much that work to provoke him, Luke exclaimed loudly. If only he wasn't got slight smack in the arm from Simeon he would continue.

“Why don't you try to keep your pose properly instead?” that smile was telling him that Simeon was just play along as well with light force he put in that smack. But if he didn't do as he said and joke more, it would turn into something not joking at all. That's why Solomon agreed easily, he was scolded once and didn't want twice.

They let the cozy and warmth of kitchen brought them into comfortable and little chat while cooking. Stew's smell in stock pot, the knife was put back in shed, plate set on the table. He sat at it with glass of water in hand, he didn't made the whole meal for them but making it with them is nice too.

_________________________________

I think it would be funny if not only Solomon do everything just like the recipe said and it still turn out.. yknow but he have a strange way to hold stuff and with it is something dangerous like knife our angels would never let it slide when they know (start from polite excuse to keep him away from kitchen tho)

I may be add picture if I have time!

[warriorstale001]

One Small Difference Bonus Drabble

The Beginning.

A drabble that takes place right after Nightmare returns to the cell after checking up on Horror in One Small Dream Chapter 2 and can be considered the start of the OSDiff story diverging from the OSD story.

Written by both me and @calcium-cat (who kindly gave me permission to use one of the flashback scenes from an OSD drabble of hers in this drabble, as well as the first line below, which is from OSD chapter 2 so I'm able to show where the two stories start to differ).

Warnings for angst (less than the Prologue) and implied torture (again related to what happens to Dream just before and during the Prologue).

Hope you all enjoy ^w^

Nightmare looked down at his twin.

Yes, it seems as though Dream is still lying unconscious as a result of the potion, having not moved an inch from the spot where Nightmare left him when he went to check up on Horror per Cross’s request.

He nudges his brother’s motionless body with a tentacle, pleased to find Dream’s aura has completely faded from his body, no longer burning him like it did before.

A huge grin forms on Nightmare’s face as he chuckles darkly to himself. Now he can really get started with his revenge.

But before that…

Nightmare slips a tentacle under Dream’s crown, pulling it rather harshly off of his skull right after. His brother won’t be needing that here in the cell and he certainly doesn’t want to see him wearing it every time he comes down here to punish Dream.

In fact… he should probably just get rid of it altogether, considering his brother lost the right to call himself their tree's guardian centuries ago. He doesn’t deserve to proudly wear the crown on his skull with a smile on his face everywhere he goes…

Nightmare opens a small shadowy portal in front of him that leads to the void, holding Dream’s crown just above it to drop it in. Once he lets go, the crown will be lost in there forever… never to be seen again…

…

He looks from the crown to his brother several times with a slight frown on his face, thinking over his decision to throw away one of Dream’s most precious possessions.

Hmm… maybe it would be better if he hangs onto the crown for now, instead of getting rid of it altogether like he originally intended and not because he has any attachment to the foul object in his hands himself of course…

Nightmare is sure the crown will be a valuable tool that he can perhaps use against his brother later. Then when his brother least expects it, he can dispose of the wretched thing as Dream watches on, powerless to stop him from destroying his beloved headpiece.

Yes… seeing his brother’s despair in that moment will surely make it worth the wait of holding onto in the meantime.

His mind made up, Nightmare closes his shadowy portal to the void and places the crown in his hoodie pocket for the time being. Once he’s back in his room, he’ll throw the annoying object in the wardrobe with the other one…

He’ll decide how exactly he’ll use it against Dream later…

Nightmare looks down at his unconscious brother again, wondering what else he can take away from Dream to make his stay in the cell even more unbearable.

The corrupted skeleton’s eye light lands on his brother’s gloved hands, causing a scowl to form on Nightmare’s face. Those gloves give Dream a better grip on his infuriating bow, the same bow that has shot arrow after arrow into his corrupted body. They also tend to provide his brother’s hands and arms good protection during battles.

But they won’t be protecting them any longer while he’s here…

Nightmare quickly strips his brother of both his gloves, leaving Dream’s arms and hands completely bare. He then tosses these into the void, finding no reason to keep the gloves when he knows he won’t need these to potentially bribe Dream with.

With Dream’s gloves removed he’ll actually be able to see the damage he does to the bones on his arms later during his revenge.

Now then… there’s just one more thing he needs to take care of before he can start his brother’s punishment.

Nightmare gently grasps Dream’s cape in one of his tentacles before pulling it over his brother’s skull.

Oh how he’s longed to rip his brother’s beloved cape to shreds for centuries, but all he had managed in that time was one large tear in the fabric that Dream had, of course, found a way of fixing when he started wearing his new outfit to their battles.

But now there’s nothing that can stop him from destroying the cape entirely so there won’t be even a thread of it left in existence.

He holds it between his two hands, pulling a little in preparation to rip the delicate fabric in one strong, swift movement.

Nightmare peers down at the skeleton still lying unconscious on the ground. Dream will be waking up any moment now to see him tearing the cape apart and he won’t stop until there’s nothing left of it, no matter how much his brother begs and screams at him to stop.

It… shouldn’t be too hard to break it surely… just… one small tug should do the trick…

… So why can’t Nightmare move his arms to do the deed right now…

…

…

Is it because of… that memory…?

“Okay… you can look now.” Dream instantly opened his eyes, his sunny eyelights expanding in their wide sockets, and gasped.

"Oh wow, Nighty, it's beautiful!" he exclaimed with awed excitement.

"I thought you'd like it," Nightmare smirked as his brother took the blanket from him.

Dream wrapped it around his shoulders and nuzzled his cheek against it. "It's so soft…" he said, then added "Hey, look! It makes a great cape too, see!"

He started to run in a circle around him, his "cape" trailing behind him in the wind.

Nightmare pressed a hand to his mouth and laughed, "It's not going to stay on."

Dream halted in front of him and frowned. “Oh yeah… oh! Wait-I got an idea…” Dream trailed off as he started fiddling with his tunic clasp.

When he got it undone, he tried to use it to pin the blanket to his shirt collar and predictably struggled to do so, his browbone furrowing in frustration. While Nightmare thought it was a silly idea, he rolled his eyelights and stepped forward.

“Here, let me do it,” he said, stretching out his hands.

Dream agreed and let him try. It took a couple, but he eventually pinned both the clasp and corners to his brother’s collar. He adjusted the star pendant upright before standing back and giving his fidgety twin his space.

“There. Is that good?”

Dream lifted his arms out and started spinning this way and that, looking over his shoulder at the tail of his “cape” flapping behind him.

“It’s perfect!” he finally exclaimed, and Nightmare couldn’t help but smile at the pure happiness radiating from his brother.

Whether it was a “cape” or blanket, if it made Dream happy, that’s all that mattered.

Suddenly, Dream lunged at him, wrapping his arms in a tight embrace. Miraculously, Nightmare managed to remain upright, and once the shock wore off, he returned the hug a touch more gently.

“Thank you so so much, Nighty, I love it, I really really love it…!”

…

…

…

As thoughts of the memory fade, Nightmare’s tentacles seem to move on their own, picking Dream slightly off the floor just enough so he’s able to slip the cape back onto Dream’s shoulders without difficulty where it belongs.

Although a part of him still wants to ruin Dream’s cape… he knows he’s not quite ready to do that yet there’s too many memories attached to it… and although painful to think about… he doesn’t want them to be destroyed with the cape just yet.

At some point during his revenge, he’ll make sure to take the opportunity to tear it to pieces… but just… not at this very second… or soon for that matter.

Dream can keep it on him in the meantime… but only because he doesn’t want the damn thing cluttering up his wardrobe… not for any other reason…

As Nightmare fixes the cape so it sits correctly on Dream’s shoulders like before, his brother begins to stir, groaning painfully as his eye sockets slowly flicker open.

Nightmare retracts his tentacles from Dream’s cape immediately, his eye light wide at the thought of his brother figuring out what he was doing before he regained consciousness, but the other skeleton is still clearly too out of it to realize what just happened… or to know where he is right now.

After a moment, Dream’s fuzzy eye lights meet his own, causing a puzzled yet exhausted frown to form on his twin’s face as he squints up at him.

“N…Night…mare?”

The sound of Dream weakly calling out his name causes a malicious smile to form on Nightmare’s face as he narrows his eye socket to stare down at his brother.

“Rise and shine, Dream~.” Nightmare sneers at his twin, wrapping a tentacle around his waist and arms before shaking the clearly disoriented skeleton in an attempt to wake him up a little.

Dream whines in discomfort before trying to opens his eye sockets a little more, though they remain half lidded and droopy, making it look as if his brother is struggling to take in his surroundings right now. A side effect of the potion perhaps?

Well… that just makes things even easier for him.

His dazed brother held tightly in his grip, Nightmare starts to walk over to the far wall of the cell, where a number of chains have been left lying on the floor in preparation for his brother’s stay.

The corrupted skeleton’s smile becomes truly unhinged as he glances from his brother to those restraints, his eye light flashing for a moment before he speaks to the other skeleton once more.

“Welcome to your new home for the next week Dream.” Nightmare smirks, making sure to make eye contact with his brother as he does this and is rewarded when he sees Dream’s more focused eye lights shrink fearfully. “I’m sure you’ll have a dreadful stay here.”

Once he reaches the far wall of the cell, he drops Dream from his tentacles so that his brother falls onto the floor with a loud thud, causing him to let out a cry of pain.

The sound is music to Nightmare’s skull.

He steps forward so that he’s towering above Dream’s pained and hunched over figure, casting a large shadow onto his terrified twin.

Backed up against a wall and knowing now that his magic has been rendered utterly useless by whatever he had been forced to drink before falling unconscious, Dream can do nothing but stare up at Nightmare in pure fear. His mind races in horror as he thinks about what this corrupted version of his brother can do to him at this state. Just what does Nightmare have in mind for him here?

“Now then brother…” Nightmare grins widely, forcefully grabbing Dream’s left arm in one tentacle and a restraint in another, all while staring unblinking at his brother the entire time.

He almost can’t believe it…

His revenge…

It’s finally about to happen…

And he’s going to make sure it tastes so sweet.

“…I think it’s time we start having a little fun in here together… wouldn’t you agree...?”

~~~

Hope you all enjoyed!

Like I mentioned before, the flashback scene is from one of the extra drabbles written by calcium-cat for OSD, which I thought would work perfectly here to show why Nightmare just can't bear take the cape away from Dream. Also because the timelines in OSD and OSDiff are meant to be the same up until a certain point, it only makes sense that the flashback of Nightmare giving Dream his cape be the same in both stories.

Hope you're all excited for the next chapter of OSDiff which will be coming out in 9 days (yes, I'm counting down the days, but not just because of the chapter coming out ;3). I'll be sure to release a teaser at some point before then.

Feel free to ask me any questions about this drabble or the prologue over on AO3 if you wish. The ask box is always open ^w^

Thanks for reading down this far! Have a wonderful day!

[howlingday]

Ok so Lore dump time. So I said I will be doing the guardians Magiolems but I realized that I never talk about the current Keeper. But I'm sticking to my word. Now all Magiolems have the ability to teleport to each other and speak telepathically so i won't be repeating that. They can also repair them selves if damaged if material they are made out if around or use spare magic to heal. I might have to spilt this into two parts. So without a futher ado the Guardians

Name Gravitos(Grav-I-Tos) He/Him/It

Appearance: Is a large house like mech. Mainly colored a dark wooden brown with a coffee colored bricks and dark Grey joints.

Aura:Unlocked Semblance:Targeting he can keep track to up 15 different people no matter where they are in Remenat.

Magic:Gravity(He push or pull things towards himself. Make things lighter or heavier. Compress objects by making a gravity bubble. Make a barrier around himself to reflect attacks.) Size change(Can make himself the size of 8 story building or as small as a paladin.) Magic sensing.

Other notes: Gravitos is by far the strongest and largest of the Guardians. He's also the oldest living Guardian being 1000 of years old. He's does have a soul and Aura. He's not active the current story because his size makes him quite noticeable. He's usually about the size of the Atlas mech used to kill the Levatin in Argus. He's a calm mostly silent being not capable of speaking outside his body or the connection with other Guardians. He is straight to the point not caring how mean it makes him seem. He will often use violence as a eay to quickly complete hus missons as few things by themselves are threats to him. Also highly intelligent and experienced. He acts as a sort of data storage and digital assistant when his body is not active. His main purpose was to hold people and torture them for info.

Main Inspiration is from a graphic novel called Amulet with a vehicle that looked like a house. Photo below.

Name: Souless Stalker They/Them/It

Appearance: A lanky android with light metal and it's entire body. A flattish face expect two bulging glowing eyes and a jaw with razor sharp teeth. Claws on hands and feet. Tends to hunch over when not in combat or mimicking someone.

Aura:No not possible

Magic: Flesh Growth(With a small amount of DNA he can grow large amounts of that DNA.) Size Change. Fire. Voice Mimic(Can mimic any voice its heard before) Magic sensing(The ability to sense Magic and magic users location and how much Magic they have.) Shape-shifting(Able to change the shape of his body to fix the situation) Invisibly(Make it unable to be seen)

Other Notes: Souless is the most outright Dangerous of the Guardians. Remember Shiver? Well this guy is literally made out of it. Now unlike Anti-Aura metal silver eyes can't negate the effects or destory Shiver. Soulless is mentally unstable and often attacks others than are Magiolems or the Keeper. It is brutal and mercilessly in fights. Very good with robotics and copying people. It can mimic any fighting style it sees but not semblances. It even creeps out the other Magiolems and stays off for ustablely. It can grow flesh on its self to copy the looks of other people. Hates all Arcs and will enter a violent rage to murder them no matter what.(Yes even Adrian) Lastly crippling fear of Ozma(All hosts) and Salem runs away if it sees them and if it can't it curls up into a ball and makes crying noises.

Main Inspiration: The Mimic from Fnaf

Name: Fern *Name may change on a later date*

Appearance: He is a human skeleton covered in moss and vines to move around. His body when under disguise is a slightly tanned Japanese man with dark green hair. He where a large rimmed hat and a long white coat with deep pockets. White button up shirt with blue pants and Thick brown boots.

Aura:Yes Semblance:No

Magic:Plant control(He can grow,control and even connect to plants) Mushroom control(He can grow and control plants) Plant Monsters(He can make plant monsters such as a toxic gas shooting hryda or a wolf deer hybrid. Note all made out of plant and mushroom matter) Strength boosting(He is able to boost his strength even futher than others are able normally.) Growth(He adds to his own mass to increase the power of blows and make himself faster) Bullet seed(Able to shoot seeds out of his hands like bullets and also be turned into machine gun fire rate and even cannon shots with cocnuts.

Other notes: this is the a currently active Guardian that guards a collection of Grimm and Plants stored in Small magic pocket dimension spheres. Some even thought to be extinct like the Nightmare Grimm. His base is a old town over run with plants surround by a thick lay of trees and highly toxic plants. He is a smug amd proud fighter. He's speaks with an American Gangster Accent. He gets angry when his plants are destroyed. He helps those when ot can benefit him and his boss or hurt the Arcs. He likes to talk a lot by is often alone for longs periods of time due to his Job. Likes to watch crimes shows.

Main Inspiration: The man on the internet song on Floral Fury

Thats all for now. There is 3 Guardians left. Wow this was strangely tiring. Is that normal? Anyway stuff is open to change on later dates.

Thoughts? Criticism? Ideas?

OH! I remember Amulet! It's been a while since I read it, so I might have to reread it. Honestly, Gravitos kinda reminds me of the wardens from Darksiders.

Just this huge, massive thing that acts as an obstacle/gate.

The Soulless Stalker sounds absolutely terrifying. Especially that "hates all Arcs even Adrian" bit. That's a set up for a horror scene if I've heard one. Kinda got sort of a Warhammer Flayed One vibe from it.

This walking nightmare of flesh and metal makes me SHIVER every time! Ah? Ah? Ah, screw it...

Honestly, Fern sounds like a decent fella. Can't really think of a character to compare him to, except maybe Poison Ivy or Swamp Thing.

Covered in green and dedicated to protecting the Green.

[thecrimefiles]

“He’s not you...”

Author: The Crime Files

Summary: You accompany Parker to Berlin as a protective detail for Director Vance and things take an unexpected turn.

Main Character(s): Alden Parker, Leon Vance

Notes: This story is inspired by season 20, episode 5: Guardian and the second half is based off a dream I had a few weeks ago… also, it’s pretty late here so I’ll edit it in the morning but in the meantime, I hope you enjoy it!

You place a soft knock on the door before the sounds of harsh voices, coming from within, fade into a hushed silence. “Director?” The question goes unanswered as you notice a pair of indignant looking agents sitting by the door.

Confused, you slowly push your way through the door before repeating your question, “Director Vance?” As you close the door behind you, you’re met with the sight of Leon Vance and your boss, Alden Parker, having what appears to be a heated argument.

“I’m sorry, am I interrupting something?”

“Ah, agent-”

“Perfect timing,” Parker interrupts.

“I... what,” you ask. The director turns towards the senior agent with an exhausted glare before you notice the luggage sitting by his desk, “are you going somewhere, Director?”

As he opens his mouth to respond, Parker jumps in, “the director has decided to forgo the postponement of his trip to Berlin, despite my concerns regarding his safety...”

“I’m sorry, what?” You turn your attention towards the director. “You’re still going to the Interpol conference? With all due respect, sir, but given the current set of circumstances-”

“As I have said to Agent Parker,” comments the director in a voice laced with authority, “I appreciate the concern... but I am not going to let a threat stop me from doing my job. Is that understood?”

“Yes, sir.”

Parker’s attention is focused on the floor as you turn towards him, waiting for him to acknowledge the director's orders. “You want to go to Berlin, fine...” he says with a sigh. “But I’m going with you. I’ll be your protection detail, not those two agents.” He explains, pointing towards the door.

“You,” asks Director Vance as you detect a hint of amusement in his voice.

“I’m qualified. We both are.”

“We,” you ask.

“Yeah, you’re comin’ too... so,” he says, turning towards the director. “What do you say?”

“Plane leaves in an hour. Your bags aren't even packed.”

“I always keep a go-bag in my car,” he says with a smirk. “I’ll go get it... I always wanted to see Berlin.”

You watch him head towards the door before turning your attention towards the director, “it’ll be an honour to protect you, sir.”

“You’re a damn fine agent, I trust you.” He reassures you with a smile before you follow Parker out the door.

-

“That was a long night...” you sigh, locking the door behind you. You and Parker had agreed on sharing the adjoining room next to Vance’s - as it would be safer - so it was no surprise to find him perched on the bed, leaning against the headboard.

“Didn’t expect you to be back so soon,” he comments, not taking his eyes off the file in his hands.

“What are you talking about?”

Taking a seat on the opposite end of the bed and thinking back on the events of the night, you gently massage the back of your neck before a soft moan falls from your lips, the stiffness melting from your body.

Parker had been so focused on keeping an eye on the director, despite his objections, that he hadn’t noticed the handsome man who had walked over to you and started up a conversation. The unmistakable sound of your laughter echoing throughout the lobby had caught his attention and when he’d turned towards you, he saw your hand resting on his arm... he couldn’t help but feel a twinge of resentfulness towards the man.

“Wait,” you say after a moment of realisation. “Oh, Parker...” His name, barely a whisper, falls from your lips as your gaze softens upon noticing the sadness etched across his face. “He just wanted to know where the conference room was, he wasn’t flirting with me...” you explain, slowly making your way towards his side of the bed.

All of a sudden, you feel a warmth spread throughout your body at the thought of what you were about to do to your boss, of all people, as a subtle shade of vibrant crimson colours your cheeks. Taking the file from his hands, you slowly crawl onto his lap, straddling him, before placing a finger underneath his chin. “I’m not interested in him...” you say, guiding his gaze up towards you.

There was an evident intensity swirling in his golden virescent eyes as they linger on yours, a soft smile gracing your lips. “Alden...” you whisper, softly allowing your fingers to glide over his ageing, yet handsome features.

“He’s not you,” you confess quietly, prompting a charming smile from the older gentleman. Running your hands through his silver hair, you let them rest on the back of his neck before placing a soft, tentative kiss on his lips.

Immediately, he reciprocates the gesture, deepening the kiss. His hands glide up along your thighs before resting on your waist, as he pulls you closer, eliciting a chorus of melodious moans from both of you. At that moment, a knock on the door catches your attention as you both pull away, breathless, his gaze lingering on the soft, swollen flesh of your lips.

“I think that’s Director Vance,” you mention before turning your attention towards the door.

To be continued…

[bluiex]

((Hahaha take your fucking Angst. This dives a bit into my lore of Avatars of Chaos and their duties

Based upon the song ‘Just Look My Way’ from Hellva Boss))

—————

Scar looked at the object in the box, the key that is said to break any bond of contract. His eyes then grew sad as he ran his fingers over the heart key. He took a breath and set it down on the desk beside him.

"It is expected. An oath by blood to hold the tomb." he closed the book beside him that had the white and red book with the hourglass on it. Getting up from the desk running his hands past the key.

"And the starlight passes overhead, fuels all the skills I've honed." Scar walked up the stairs to the room of memories. As an avatar he could see all destruction of the world, of the order being broken to fix it or give it to the Void. A heavy choice of when to allow people to fall into insanity or not. "I am a guardian, a Avatar of these ancient rites."

He looked around the room at the memories of his life, walking past the ones from before the Life Series. His days in the Crafting Dead allowing the world to fall to Chaos's maw, then being pulled into a world that would never end... as his friends souls would fall into destructive patterns until nothing was left.

"Yet I find myself," Scar reached out as he took a memory into his hand. "drawn from that path."

In his hands was the sand of a memory from the first time he met his pretty bird. "On those dazzling desert nights."

Scar smiled softly looking at the place built for them, the lama Pizza outside, the moon over looking them. As they would cuddle together in a bed together for warmth.

"Let me hold you, keep you close to me." Scar held the place close to his heart with a smile. "I long to hear your voice." he remebered Grian's warm voice in his ear, soft feathers on his scarred cheeks. How warm they were around his bare chest.

He pulled back the memory, looking at it sadly. "But dearest, I know better now." Scar said reaching up to the tip of the building as he tapped it as the memory shifted to show of the home destoried by TNT. "I must give you this choice."

The memory dissolved into sand as he swirled it around in his hands. Scar looked at the golden sand silently, "I can give you everything you need." he spun it around watching it turn into a bird flying around with specks of sand behind it. "Or do you want to hear me plead?"

Scar watched the bird fly around and followed it as it flew away. Memories of third life playing out, the war, the chaos that he brought in his wake. "Just look my way... Just look my way."

He reached out to the one where Grian called him a traitor, something that stung with truth. He was a traitor, he was sent to make things worse. "Is there something more that I don't know?"

Shifting the memory to when they had to fight in the cactus ring. He couldn't bring himself to spill the Watcher's blood, Scar just didn't want to hurt Grian anymore than he had to. His own blood staining the sand and claws red. "that you won't say til we've both grown cold?"

The memory faded into sand in his hand as his lifeless eyes looking at Grian. Fading down into the void below as Grian won the games yet falls from the grief. "Just say..." Scar looked at the void and the reflection of antlers on his head and spotted scars on his face. "Please, Stay... Look my way..."

The memories shifted to Last Life, as Scar walked through the void pools. "This unspoken contract, a deed we forged for mutual gain." he looked at the memory of his lonely mountain, how Grian pulled away Mumbo, and Joel fell to Red so quickly.

Chaos sewed as is his duty, to stir the pot, in a world ready to be consumed by the void. Grian refusing to even acknowledge him most of the time. How Scar couldn't understand why he was alone, but also silently accepting it. Such was his life, Avatars always walked alone.

"If that's all this was when you're not here. What is this rooted pain?" Scar watched Grian being happy with the Southlanders from afar, knowing it'll fail and they'd break apart.

"I don't care that you're of lower station!" Scar said in defiance to the void as the memory flew off. He knew Grian was a Watcher, was there as a punishment by these beings of the void. Those who created this world to be a prison, a prison that was breaking apart.

The memories swirled forming the image of Grian out of starlight and wither sand. Scar leaned into the touch even as wither effect spread on his cheeks. "Or primed to sate my dark temptations." he smiled sweetly to the image as it pulled back from him.

How Grian used him for a life at sword point, then easily left him even after forging a real contact more than words. As if written words held no real value unless he said them to true. And not caring about his death in the end, shrugging it off. "Why can't you understand!?"

Scar asked this out loud, reading out to the image of Grian fading away. "let me explain!" he begged out to the void, he just wanted to tell his Watcher, his pretty bird, that he didn't care who he was. If Grian only understood what he was, even after all the hints Scar gave him.

Scar looked down at the image of Grian summoning the wither. How the plan failed, and how Joel and him died running away from their own failed plans. "And I'm terrified, as I cry, to make these feelings true!" he lifted it up as the memory to the others floating it away. "What's left for me, and my broken heart, if I cannot have you?"

Tears fell from his eyes wondering if Grian would ever return the feelings. Double life began, soulmates, true and tried. His string tied to his pretty bird, truth of their bond he knew was there. Scar felt such joy in the moment.

Holding the memory as Grian showed they were soulmates. And Scar... Scar thought it'd be like old times. Aloof he was and thinking back to the time in the sand. Where he could depend on Grian... Yet the words stung deeply, how Grian didn't want to be depended on, but wanted a partner to let him be his chaotic self. Refusing to let Scar be his own chaotic self too, for someone needed to be the order...

"Unless it's me?" maybe it was, useless as some said. Accident proned. Chaotic. By himself he could make this mistakes and it not affect another. The string of fate jolting with their shared pain, wishing Grian could also feel Scar's love through it like Scar felt Grian's love for another.

"And no matter what in this world I could give, it's not enough, to get through the walls you've conjured up to live?" Scar looked at the memories of being alone in the home Grian built. A fortress... not a home, a stance against all, meant to be scary looking, uninviting.

As Grian spent his nights with BigB, snuggling up to him, star gazing. The string on his ring finger, tying to Grian, as he held the hand of another, with an invisible string between them. Someone he chose, someone Grian wanted to be with by choice.

"Is this what you feel?" Scar asked watching them as he walked around them. Seeing BigB giving cookies made by his hands to Grian, Scar could make cookies too. Even did a few times. "Scorned by Watchers that cannot comprehend, what you are?"

Grian never had been given a choice, always having to do as he's told. as expected of him. Duties expected of them both. Though Scar knew that pain, without choice and wanting to break it, why did it still hurt?

Scar's hand touched Grian's smiling face, stepping into the image of BigB, wishing that was smile to him. His hand holding Grian's, making him happy. "So I'll grant you this mercy, this bind, on our souls..." he pulled away from the image, letting it again be BigB that Grian smiled at with love.

the string between them growing tant, straining, yet breaking all the same. "Need's to end..." Scar whispered as he watched BigB spin Grian around their laughter fading as they walked away.

Scar looked at them fading away, as Double Life ended in pain. The Warden shreik in his ears and nothing, dying alone. Though Grian killed Ren, he still loved BigB, Secret Soulmates... he crushed the memory in his hand of the grave as the wither sand faded into the void.

Limited Life began, with Scar putting the distance between he and Grian. Cleo and Bdubs were so kind to him, accepting his chaotic need and laughing about it, joking with him. Loving him.

"I will try to make amends!" Scar said as he held the memory of Clockers Tower in his hands, watching the Bad Boys build their Bridge. How Grian would love on Jole and Jimmy so freely, laughing happily, more than he ever had in Double Life.

It hurt, but Grian was happy there, happy to be free to choose again. "For making you means to an end!" Scar wouldn't cage his bird again, for he refused to sing in a cage, no matter if made of gold or diamonds.

"So look my way, please, look my way!" Scar wished though for Grian in the game to look at him. He gave an olive branch, telling Grian if Jole also died he could join the Clockers... Yet Grian headed to the Nosy Neighbors, to be with BigB again.

"And if there's something more that I don't know?" Scar wanted to so badly know, what could he not give to Grian? What did BigB, Joel, Jimmy, or even Etho had that he couldnt give him!?

He kept the space though, Grian didn't need him anymore. So... Scar resolved to not need Grian anymore, as he took another memory. "I'll save us both before we grow cold..."

Watching his bird fall from a great height, his wings clipped as he fell from a height. His freedom came without the comfort of knowing he'd be caught. This was what Grian wanted though, the flying freedom even with the fear of the fall. And Scar would be a fool to keep him from that.

Yet, as he shifted the memory back to the axe in his back by Grian. Perhaps it was payback for the many times he killed Joel? Or maybe Grian just saw him as in the way of a win? Did it matter?

"If you'll stay, and just say..." The wither sand and stardust formed the bird in his hand, as he petted it's head, Scar smiled at it's soft chirps. Holding up his hands as the bird flew off so easily.

His green eyes had tears in them, as the void pulled at his legs. Into it, and possibly to another life games. Scar reached up to the fading light all the same, watching the fuzzy image of the bird fading away from view.

“Look my way..."

[blackjackkent]

OK, so I might have to take back some of my decisions in the last post. Getting to the Inquisitor is more complicated than I thought.

He's currently behind a barrier, to which Therezzyn is holding the key. Our options, according to Google, are to a) give Therezzyn the artifact and get access given to us, b) pickpocket Therezzyn when she's not looking, or c) kill her.

Hector doesn't want to do any of these things, and I'm trying to figure out which one would be least out of character. :/

Really (going back to what I said in the previous post about Hector's usual compulsive honesty), option A makes the most sense for him. And, apparently, it doesn't actually take the artifact from us long-term and does actually get some approval from Lae'zel. The downside, of course, is everyone ELSE disapproves, and I want to get Karlach's romance going, goddammit. :P

Hypothesis. What if I ungroup Karlach and Gale and leave them outside the door on the (in-character) grounds that Therezzyn will be more likely to listen to a smaller number of random strangers barging into her office.

[tests]

OK, apparently that does work. We don't get any disapproval from the rest of the party, we still get Lae'zel's approval, we keep the artifact in the long run, and Hector gets to be his usual honest self. (The Dream Guardian is pretty unhappy with us, but hopefully she'll get over it and still keep us from turning into a squid in our sleep.)

On the bright side, also, this doesn't negate any of the previous scene, as we can pick up from right afterwards:

"I presume you are not stupid enough to return empty-handed. So give me the weapon - NOW."

"Here it is." Wondering if he is making the right decision, Hector reaches into his pack and pulls out the small, strangely-shaped item. Inwardly he thinks a small apology to Shadowheart. There seems no point to trying to navigate this place without being forthright, but it is such a dangerous choice...

Then again, no choice seems safe at present. Not anymore.

He can feel his dream guardian rebelling against this choice, her voice piercing in his mind. "No. NO!"

But he has no choice but to be forthright, and he extends his hand with the item held carefully between his fingers.

The kith'rak's eyes light with sudden glee. She flicks her hand outwards, pulling the object towards her with a spell and examining it as it hovers in her grasp.

"Yes...there it is...exactly as described. The inquisition will finally come to an end."

She moves as if to pocket the artifact...and suddenly, a familiar glow bursts around it, knocking her backwards against the wall. The artifact erupts from her hands and crashes back into Hector, settling itself back into his hands, vibrating with power.

"Tsk'va!" Therezzyn scrambles back to a standing position and glares at him furiously. "Trickery! Heresy! How did you--" She stammers incoherently, fists clenching at her sides. "You manipulate it when I cannot?!"

She visibly stills herself. Hector has seen this movement before in Lae'zel, and in himself - the grounding, centering, shoving aside the inconvenient, chaotic emotions. Her face goes hard as stone.

"It appears you have been chosen, istik," she says coldly. "You are lucky it is not for me to question why."

She pulls the glowing keystone from her pocket and stalks past him to the barrier blocking the way to the ch'r'ai. "Go. Seek the inquisitor below. And take the cursed thing with you."

[eohpmdsteams]

PMDS| M5 P4 | Revelations

“We Yield.”

And with those words, the madness of the fighting around them seemed to stop. Bluey was honestly shocked that these guardians appeared to give up their pursuit as quickly as they had started it. However, with them explaining their desire to keep the library from being destroyed and finally calming themselves enough to hear out the guilds it started to look like this day was taking a turn for the better.

As the leaders discussed their mission objective with the guardians Bluey turned to Bastion and frowned looking at his wounds which only made her wince at the pain from her blackened eye. Not liking the sting of her own cuts and the condition of Bastion’s own Bluey reached into her pack and pulled out 2 Oran berries, one for each of them.

“Here buddy.” Bluey smiled handing Bastion the blue fruit, “To close up those cuts. I uhm. I’m sorry I had to hit you literally below the belt. How are you holding up?” -I’ll live. But when I get you back the pain will be tenfold what you did to me. And you won't see it coming.- He signed with a frown as he popped the berry into his mouth, the medicinal properties of the fruit closing the bleeding wounds on his body. “Yeah, that's…fair I guess?” Bluey said as she ate her own berry to close her wounds, “Do you think those Guardian things will actually keep their word when we go in?”

-They’d better. I’d hate to see what else you’d do to the Blue one for its transgression. - He smirked.

“Trust me there is a lot I wanna do to that thing. None of it at all kind after what it did.”

-It was defending a sacred place. You can’t be too mad.-

“After what they made us do to each other I’ll be as angry at them as I’d like It made us turn on each other, like you and I haven't had enough of that in our lives.” She frowned as she glared Azelf down from where she stood.

After what felt like hours it appeared the guardians finally listened to reason and allowed the guilds entrance so long as they behaved themselves. As Bluey and Bastion approached the door she looked over to where her mother's unconscious body should have been laying but all that was left was the mask. “Where did she go?” Bluey said furrowing her brow and looking around the area

“She will return for it. Yamasks always return for their mask.” Jenga replied after examining it, “She must have slinked off to lick her wounds. Let’s not dwell on it too long. Now we have to chance to find a cure for her.”

Jenga then made his way inside the library with Bastion following closely behind him. However, despite her better judgment Bluey slowed and turned to face the trio as she passed them. Looking to grab Azelf’s attention.

“Hey.” She said with a flat tone loud enough to make Azelf turn and eye her.

“Hope you keep those scars to remember me by. Because I surely won’t forget what happened today.” “I suggest you proceed,” Azelf responded with a twitch of its tails before turning back to face its own subordinates.

Bluey chuffed and followed her companions into the library. And it was overwhelming with how large it was. She searched a bit aimlessly trying to see if she could find Bastion and Jenga once the guilds started to dig through the many old scrolls and books. When she had no luck finding him, she turned to a shelf beside her and began to flip through the books to see if she could find anything that may be useful. “These are medical books. Might be smart to jot down some notes from these to help Bramble with the journey back through the mountain. Let me see if I can find one about preventing and treating hypothermia in grass types.” She said to herself as she slide her new fingers gently over the books. Searching cover by cover while also being just a tad fascinated with her new digits.

Bluey spent a good forty-five minutes reading through the old medical book and scribbling down useful notes including how to treat the burn on Bastion’s back.

While she scribbled away she hardly noticed the voices talking to her. “Bluey! Yoohoo the world to Bluey!” Jenga said a little louder startling her. “Oh, there you are Jenga! Where did you guys wander off to?” She said as she finished writing down the last little bit of this passage.

“We're in the section of books detailing the lives of each individual of the Painted Sands.”

“The what?” She said looking up from her book. “Yeah, the Library has scrolls that detail your life. Bastion has been reading into our family's scrolls. For closure I suppose or maybe to see if all those stories Parapet used to tell him were true.”

Bluey sat there thinking for a moment “you said Pappy was still alive but left, right? Do you think if he is still alive the scrolls would tell me where he is?” “I believe they would yes. Did you want me to show you where it is?”

“If you could please.” She smiled standing up and following the old Sableye.

After about 15 minutes Jenga brought Bluey to a small outcrop of book and scroll shelves that had a short table with pillows around it and sitting at the table with a scroll rolled out across it, was Bastion reading away.

“I’ll let you kids do what you gotta do. I am going to go help the other ghosts tidy up the place a bit after all the fighting. If you need me just call.” Jenga smiled and scurried off to help put books back in their respective places.

Bluey turned to Bastion and sat next to him looking over the scrolls, “Find anything good?” -Currently reading over my grandmother’s scroll and I always thought she may have over-exaggerated some things. But from what I’ve been reading it seems this little psycho really did do all of the things she claimed she did. No wonder Grandfather, Rampart said she was the only Pokémon he felt intimidated by.-

Bluey chuckled and stood up walking over the scroll shelf and digging through them, “Dag….dag….dag….AHA! Daggermaw!” She chimed before sorting through the scrolls in the cubby, “Rosi, Olive, Emerald, Blanc, Magenta, Scar-” She paused looking at the scroll with her mother’s name on it. She hesitated but pulled it out and held it in her left hand while she continued to dig before finding her grandfather’s scroll. Once she had both of those, she snooped through the B column until she located the Bonozo family and pulled out her own scroll as well as her father’s.

She made her way back over to the table and set the scrolls down before curiosity made her snoop over Bastion’s shoulder reading over his family history with him. However, there was something she spotted further down the scroll that caught her attention. “By the great father, Bastion look!” She exclaimed while pointing to two names written on the scroll, “Your Sisters Barbican and Palisade are alive!”

Bastion stopped what he was reading and snapped his focus over to the part of the scroll Bluey was reading and gestured for her to read it aloud, to which she complied.

“Barbican Alora Cavalier was declared official sheriff of Painted Sands after serving as a temporary sheriff in her grandmother's place after the events that transpired on the 3rd of Summer. Her sister Palisade Gala Cavalier’s name has been changed to Palisade Gala Moor following her marriage to Brono Emmit Moor.”

Bluey then gasped before jabbing the scroll with her finger, “And that's not all! Bastion look, you’re an uncle!” He stared at the area Bluey pointed at in shock as she continued to read, “Palisade and Brono currently have 3 eggs incubating with 5 already hatched offspring Durin, Roseli, Razz, Leppa, and Oran. Oran is now the second recorded blue Pawniard birth in Painted Sands, since the birth of Blue Bella Bono- Your nephews just like me! Bastion that's amazing you have nieces and Nephews! Oh, we gotta go back to Painted Sands at some point!” Bluey then started to dig through her family's scrolls while blabbering on about her excitement over Bastion’s family as his shocked face melted into one of excitement as he looked down at the names.

-I can’t believe it. Lisa’s a mom…and- he paused what he was signing before shouting, “BARBI’S A KINGAMBIT?! THAT'S BULLSHIT!” “Oh, I didn’t even read that part! Y’know Barbi always did come off as the kind of girl who’d look great with that mustache, I could never pull it off. By the gods, she must be HUGE! She was always really tall even as Pawniards.” Bastion grumbled a bit about how now he had to play catch up with his older sister as Bluey chuckled and began reading through her family's scrolls. Starting with her grandfather. Reading through his life she smiled reliving all the stories he used to tell her about when she was little. Though he seemed to have left out how much of an obnoxious man he was in his youth with what he told her. As she continued to read she smiled reading over a line of text about the current year. “Bastion look! My Pappy is alive! And look at this it says he’s living in the remains of an ancient alpha Wailord skeleton. That's what that crazy Zoroark meant when she told me to go to where a giant once fell! She must have been talking about my Pappy! And look at the coordinates, he’s only a two-day journey from here! Bastion, we have to go!” Bastion was caught a little off guard by her excitement but smiled with a nod of agreement.

-We can do that so long as we go to Painted Sand’s at some point. This scroll says my Grandfather Rampart and Grandmother Parapet are making their way back to Sands and the surviving members will all be in the same place in a few months.-

“Oh yeah, we have to go to back Sands at some point. I can’t believe we still have families out there.” Bluey said getting a little misty-eyed as she read through her mother’s scroll.

Bastion quickly noticed Bluey's dip in mood as she read the scroll and he reached out and set his hand over hers in an attempt to comfort her.

“Sorry man I didn’t mean to bring the excitement down I just got to the part of my mom’s scroll about what happened the day she turned. Though the scroll is just incoherent nonsense really afterward. It doesn’t give me much to work with and even confirm if she even had slivers of memory left. I was hopping it might tell me.” she said wiping her face before opening her father’s scroll. -Should you be reading these ones Bluey? They only seem to be upsetting you.- “I want to. While I don’t like thinking of the sad bit it makes me feel better to read about them…and how much they loved each other and how much they loved me. It’s nice to read about them outside that day y’know?”

Bastion nodded and wen’ back to reading over his family's scrolls and getting to learn a little bit more about his nieces and nephews and what they are like. He’d smile hearing Bluey’s occasional giggles while reading over her father’s scroll or giving the occasional awe. “Look at how much of a love-sick fool my dad was for my mom when they were kids. He really was just smitten with her out the gate.”

-Apple doesn’t fall far from the tree considering how you view Percy.-

“I wish. Seems my parents had a lot easier of a time communicating and expressing their feelings despite the fact dad was deaf.”

Bastion shook his head and continued to read. The two sat there for another 15 minutes reading in silence before Bastion’s attention was snapped from his scroll by Bluey’s voice.

“Bastion?” Bastion tilted his head at Bluey hearing a tremble in her voice as she looked up at him. “My dad’s alive.” She said pointing to the page, “He’s a Drifloon! Traveling with Pappy. All this time My dad’s been alive as a ghost! I-I can’t believe it.” She said getting water eyed as she gripped the scroll tighter. Bastion reached out and gripped her shoulder to comfort her before furrowing his brow at the scroll and pointing at the passage at the end of the scroll.

-What’s that say?-

Bluey looked up at him before moving the scroll over so she could read. She then stared at the scroll in complete shock as if she couldn’t believe what she was reading.

“I have a little sister.”

[sapphic-scylla]

Starting a new thing. After the story ends for each season, Sera (my warlock) gets a story update. Hopefully, this bridges a few gaps in her story. It will also tee me up to start opening her story more as well as helps you understand where I’m writing from. @ebevkisk

Sera’s Resolve

A deep sense of dread hung in the air.

The Traveler had ascended to the sky. In an attempt to run or to stand sentinel over the city, she didn’t know, but as she sat in the Seraph Station watching it happen, her vigilant protection over the city felt worthless. Several minutes later, a mournful silence hung in the HELM as Sera’s best friend and her sister cried over the unmoving Exo frame that was Rasputin. A sound very familiar drifted into her ears as Mara Sov walked in next to Sera.

Sera didn’t even look. “So this was the war you spoke of. I knew you were right back then, but I had no idea of the toll it would take.”

Mara paused before speaking. “War has a way of exacting a price from every participant. Especially from those we least expect.”

Sera turned. “What is the Queen’s Mercy?”

Mara looked mildly surprised, which was a leap beyond anything she’s ever seen from Mara before. “So your memories are starting to come back.”

Sera fiddled with the mark Mara gave to her several years before when they hunted Skolas. “Not all of them, but recently, between me killing your brother, him returning as a guardian, all of these stories resurfacing, and your disappearance for a time, I’ve started to have flashes of memory and not always good ones. When I was on the Leviathan, I was reminded of a moment where we refused help to the Last City and that I’m the one who spoke against it.”

Mara nodded. “You were much different back then. You had an ice cold demeanor that even I struggle to keep most days. Your actions helped me realize how much of an open mind I must keep while still remaining objective.”

Sera paused to absorb that information. “You didn’t agree with my actions.”

Mara sighed. “We all are capable of making mistakes. At the time, both of us were in places we couldn’t call unbiased. We wanted to protect our people and stay out of conflict. We’d been hurt before. That’s the fault of all of us. We can’t see everything until it’s on top of us. To answer your question, the Mercy and the Wrath are my left and right hands. Petra is my enforcer. She hunts my enemies and wields the blade that strikes down threats that would oppose my people. The Mercy is different. The Mercy is my tactician and my consult. She offers opinions and objectiveness to act as the Reef and the City seems to be most effective and useful. You were the last Mercy because I could not trust anyone else to do the job as proficiently as you did and continue to do.”

Sera clenched her fist. “But I made so many mistakes. I closed us off.”

Mara touched her shoulder. “Life is about learning, dear. If I had known that this was where we would end up, I may have stood against you more. But at the time, no one knew the follies we were committing.”

A tear rolled down Sera’s face. Sera looked back at Ana, her best friend, still struggling with the loss of a force that she spent years with, intimately building a person that not only helped shape the Tower as it was, but was such a driving force of survival in all of their lives up to this point. Rasputin made mistakes. A lot of them. Felwinter was proof of that. In the end, though, he was struggling with the same nightmare that Mithrax struggled with, that Eido was coming to terms with, and that Sjur, Sera’s old mentor was always contending with: the will to protect a people at any cost, even if it meant dirtying your own hands in the process.

War was inevitable at this point, but Sera could still make moves and her inner circle was wide. Mithrax, Eido, Caiatl, Mara, Ana, Eris, Petra, Elsie…she had a group of true friends she had gathered since reaching the tower and Sera would not let them down.

“I accept your offer.”

Mara turned.

Sera wiped the tear from her eye. “As long as the Tower and the City continue to stand strong together, I will once again be your Mercy. I will be the bridge that connects all of these factions. And I will break this Witness into tatters, even if I have to weave the threads of fate in order to do it.”

[alterednoon]

In a place as quiet as this garden, the silence was swept away by soft clicks like the waving of the clouds around the Starlight Desert.

The vet that had been hanging around there long enough to be regarded as a florist, instead of tending to the flowers like she usually does to pass the time, was found holding a rectangular object as she aimed the diamond-rimmed lens towards flowers and the like, and sometimes even the pavilion whilst she moved backwards carefully.

"What are you doing-?"

Wis blinked as she turned around on the heels of her boots, which resulted in her catching her own face staring back at her.

No, wait. That's her twin brother.

Watcher sighed as he crossed his arms, a soft smile playing on his expression at Wis's slightly startled face.

"Is that the camera from this Season?" He eyes the device in her hands, his pose now shifting to a more laid-back position. "I've been hearing about it from the archivists– and well, I guess just about from everyone around me."

"I don't doubt it." A chuckle from his twin sister makes him look back at her. "We have cubes that record memories of our selves, but this is the first we get to have something that allows us to capture others' singular moments in time."

"We only have our memories, and if we choose to, our stories to pass on about those who were around us once. And…" Her grip tightens lightly around the camera. "…even though we have verbal passings, the notes we've written, the illustrations we've drawn, and even memory cubes to store their memories, being able to take pictures is…"

"…is like being able to see them again and again…" As Watcher continued Wis's thoughts, both twins looked to the stars above them. "…and with pictures, it's like getting to introduce them to the people who are with you in the present, even when they're no longer around to make that possible."

"…yeah." Wis breathed in the cold air of the desert, her arms now wrapped around the camera as she pressed it against her chest as if it would subdue the ache in her core. "It's quite greedy, isn't it? To want to keep more of someone who couldn't be here…"

It has been nine Seasons since then, and there have been many things she wished she was able to save during that time.

A good memory, an achievement, a silly and foolish moment…a friend.

"I wanted to have all of their memories, hahaa…" It was such a strained laugh that perfectly matched with the tight smile Wis wore. As much as she didn't want to tear up right there, it was ironic that her makeup features blue raindrops below her eyes.

"They were so cute." Her chest moves heavily as she made a long, deep sigh just before she continued on. "I wished I could show you beyond my stories; how their curiosity would lead them to feel most often in awe, or at times lost and even afraid."

"Their first spirit, their first accessory, their first cape, and even the first time they met their guardian."

"The things that caught their eye and often caused them to let go of my hand, their favorite places to be, and the friends they made."

All of it.

"I wanted all of my memories of them to be something I can hold and show to you all." Wis smiled down at the camera in her hands. "It's a shame that this kind of option wasn't quite available back then."

Her twin watches her for a moment, letting the silence of the garden hover over them as the two of them listen to it…

Until Watcher stretched his arms up as he let out a "well", before crossing it behind his head. "Even when you can't take their pictures from back then, you can always take the pictures of those who are going to be here."

"It's a new Season, and there's going to be a bunch of moths streaming in. I know you've retired, but I'm sure the guides won't mind having a helping hand around."

Wis giggled at the suggestion.

"I'll have to pass, Watcher, and- shouldn't it be you who has to lend a helping hand?" She tilted her head at her twin, and playfully winked at him. "Sir Wasteland Watcher who has only guided a single moth?"

"Hey."

Seeing Watcher take a small bit of offense at her tease got another giggle out of her, and she turns back to the flowers she was aiming at.

"Hm, and besides…" The wistful florist raised up the camera to her eye level. "While I can't take the pictures of the moths I've had the short time to guide, there's also the ones who have been with me since a very long time ago, isn't there?"

"There's you, Ox Wiz, Blue…" Click. "…and, even though it hasn't been that long since I met them, there's also Kiri, Raisin, H.K., Maddie, and that little cutie who likes crabs and you–"

"Can't you just leave that part out-"

​​​​​​​Giggle.

"–so, even when I'm sad that the others would remain as just stars in the night sky for the rest to see whenever they look up, I'm happy you're all here so we could take all the pictures we want together."

"…"

"Me too."

"I'm happy we're all here, with all our friends to fly with us in this kingdom and those twinkling in the sky that watch over us."