#until he died and she took on his human spirit & it allowed her to more freely take on her human form

[girlfox]

buried my head into some doodling & because stardew has been ALL OVER my feed on everything lately ( and i really need to pick up my save again, but i'm waiting for the update to come to switch so i can snuggle up in bed instead to play ), i drew a widdol farmer stardew ahri. 🥺

[ghostgorlsworld]

Johnny Boy (Chapter 1) Werewolf! Soap x reader

Once upon a time, you would've done anything for John Mctavish. He had been your older brother's cool best friend, and you were always desperate for him to see you as more--until one fateful night that ends up with you pregnant and him...gone. Fast forward six years and you've made a good life for yourself with your daughter Emma, with Johnny none the wiser. Until one day, he decides to knock on your door.

Warnings: this will be dark Johnny, he's a werewolf so in my fics they don't really have the same morals. There will be smut in the future, and this will be quite a slowburn.

PS. shoutout to @ceilidho for inspiring this Johnny fic, especially in the future you will see Johnny calls reader "kitty" and ceilidho absolutely came up with that amazing nickname and I love them for it :) Read their stuff for more Johnny fics!

You couldn’t remember the last time Emma had slept through the night.

She was always a restless little thing, even as a baby. She hardly cried during her first year of life, quiet as a lamb with her wide blue eyes and pursed mouth, squirming out of swaddles and cradles with a single-minded determination. Your wee old man, you used to say, always looking out at the world and finding it lacking. 

She didn’t get those blue eyes from you, though you wish she had. It was as if you weren’t allowed to forget him. 

Emma was curled around you like a cat, her dark hair sprawled across your pillow. She didn’t like to be alone at night, but that was common for baby wolves, always searching for the closest source of warmth.

You spent half your time researching, reading books like How to Raise a Wolf Pup 101, or Ensuring Your Child Stays Connected to Their Inner Animal and enrolling her into a mixed kindergarten, where pups and children co-mingled (usually) without incident. It helped that you had grown up with a werewolf, you could look at his early life and see the flaws in the way his parents raised him.

You always worried, worried that you weren’t doing as good a job as someone like her would, worried that you weren’t feeding her a proper diet despite the fact that you spent another good chunk of your time preparing raw meat to mix with her school lunch. She was so small for her age, but she had John’s spirit, all wild-hair and quick temper.

Today was going to be a hard day for you both. Today was the day of the funeral.

Emma’s great grandfather took a turn last week and died at a rather impressive age, considering his history. He was a charming old wolf, but back in the day had belonged to the underground fighting rings London used to harbor, where wolves and humans alike ripped each other apart in grimy warehouses and subway tunnels. You had a suspicion that he had involved John in it a handful of times, when Johnny was just a skinny teenager with bruised knuckles.

But Emma loved Grandpa Jack, and the funeral wasn’t going to be easy for her. She understood death in a way you hadn’t when you were six, hearing the old man’s heart stop from across the hospital lobby during your visit last week.  

Emma shifted against your neck, breathing in your smell. It was as comforting for you as it was for her , her hair tickling your nose.

“Emma?” You whispered, jostling her. “Emma, it’s time to get up.” It was already eight, and the funeral was going to be at ten. You needed a shower and Emma needed breakfast–nothing put her in a worse mood than skipping breakfast.

Emma grumbled, tucking herself deeper in the blankets. You smiled to yourself, sliding out of the blankets. “Fine, but you’re getting up when I’m out of the shower.”

She nodded, tucking her head under the pillows. In another life, John used to do the same thing, growling whenever you tried to wake him before ten. 

You had thought of him often lately. You blamed it on Jack’s death, the scary thought that John might actually turn up at the funeral–but Tom had reassured you that the last he had heard from John was that he was in the Middle East, a half a world away.

You undressed, laying out the neat black dress and ballet flats you had chosen the night before. You kept the door cracked, so you could keep an eye on Emma.

If Jack hadn’t been Emma’s grandfather figure, you would simply not go. John’s mother liked you well enough, at least, more than she liked her son, but you understood why he left.

Not enough to forgive him for it, of course, but that was probably because he spent one night with you, knocked you up, and then disappeared completely for four years. He resurfaced two years ago, reaching out to Tom, your brother and his best friend, by sending an expletive-filled letter about the violent and bloody years he had spent in the military. Tommy came to you first and asked if you wanted him to know about Emma.

That was the kicker. When you learned you were pregnant, you spent months and months trying to reach him, calling whatever high-ranking officer you could find–but they all said the same thing: John Mctavish agreed to have his life before the military erased in the records, therefore he no longer existed.

He had no intention of coming back. And he didn’t even attempt to contact you along with Tommy, the girl that he had grown up with, the girl that used to love him more than anything in the world.

Emma was awake by the time you were out and dressed, her eyes bright at the thought of breakfast. 

“Cereal?” She asked hopefully.

You opened your mouth to refuse, thinking of the sugar but then you remembered that she was going to have to see her grandfather’s corpse today. You shrugged, “Sure, Em, as long as you have eggs too.” Emma nodded eagerly. She had the appetite of a grown man, and wasn’t particularly picky–something you were grateful for every day. 

She was quiet as you cooked, her eyes focused on your black dress. “Do you think Grandpa Jack is going to haunt us?”

You paused, halfway through flipping a fried egg. With Emma, it was best to really think about your answer. “Well,” you said, gesturing for her to start on her plate of raw, sliced liver. “Do you want him to?” “I think so. He could just stay in his armchair like he always used to,” Emma said thoughtfully. “We should leave one of his books out for him, just in case.” Her obsession with ghosts started when bloody Tom let her watch one of those cheesy ghost-hunting shows. Instead of being terrified, she found it exciting, the thought that people can remain even in death. 

To tell her that Grandpa Jack wasn’t going to prop his ghostly specter up on your ratty armchair and read his ancient western novels would break her heart. So you nodded, scraping two eggs onto her plate with the liver. “Alright. We’ll pick one before the funeral. I’m sure he’ll need a break from your cousins bickering by now.” She smiled and dove into the liver. It was good for her, of course, the vitamins and the minerals in organ meat, but that didn’t make you any less squeamish watching your child tearing into the raw flesh. 

Your own breakfast was a cup of black coffee and nerves, your stomach twisting into knots. He wasn’t going to be there, you told yourself. He had stayed away for this long, your idyllic little life with your daughter and your job at the library wasn’t going to be interrupted by the man that had abandoned you.

You didn’t want things to change. You didn’t want him here, in your space, with your daughter that you raised alone. 

Jack and Tom had helped of course. The old man had done his best to teach your little girl to not chew on the furniture or chase the squirrels up the tree, and your parents and Tom spoiled her endlessly.

Emma helped you wash and dry the dishes, nuzzling your hip affectionately. “You smell like you did when you went to work at the book place,” she said, sensing your anxiety. “How come? Do you think Grandpa Jack’s family’ll ruin things?”

Jack’s family, not John’s. You hadn’t told her much about her biological father, and Emma was observant enough to understand that he wasn’t ever going to be around. It didn’t seem to bother her, she had enough males in her life patting her head and teaching her how to play rugby.

“No, of course not, bear,” you said, tweaking one of her dark pigtails. “I’m just…I’m really sad. I’m going to miss your grandfather.”

She nodded, her mouth pursing in that mournful way she did when she was a baby. Back then, you had convinced herself it meant that she somehow knew her father wasn’t there, that you were doing this all alone and she knew you would fuck it up. “I still smell him in the living room.”

You kissed the soft crown of her head. “I know, bear, I’m sorry.” Together, you picked one of his Louis L’Amour novels off your rickety little bookshelf. “This was the one he was reading,” Emma said, carefully opening it to the page he had dog-eared. “We’ve got to remember to turn the pages every day, Mommy. He always reads so slow.”

“Once in the morning and once in the evening,” you agreed, patting the worn-down leather. His imprint was still in the cushions, a big, tall man worn down by years of violence.

You were going to miss him. He had come to your door shortly after Emma was born, a suitcase in hand. “I’m moving in, love,” he said. “She’ll need a wolf in her life and I’m all you’ve got.” You could have cried with relief back then. He had had such a way with her, always shushing her cries by cupping her in his big, callused hands and bringing her to his barrel chest. 

“I raised Johnny and fucked it up,” he had said, following the tiny whorl of her ear with the tip of his finger. “I’ll do my best to help you with her, pup, you loved my boy more than he deserved.”

You helped Emma into her frilly black dress, the one Jack had chosen himself. He wanted to buy her something nice, to be his darling little granddaughter for him one last time. 

She sat quietly while you braided her hair, uncharacteristically still. “Ready?” You asked.

She nodded, glancing one last time to the Louis L’Amour on the armchair.

Tom greeted the two of you at the door, a tall, skinny man that still looked like the stubborn big brother you knew. He had retired from the military last year to settle down in the house across from yours and got a job doing the only thing he really liked doing–which was cooking french dishes for eight hours a day and shouting until he was blue in the face. 

He smiled sadly, sweeping Emma up in a hug. “Hullo, bear,” he said, kissing her cheek. “You look dashing.”

“Grandpa Jack made me wear it,” she said, frowning disapprovingly at the ruffles on the sleeves. 

Tom laughed, but it was hollow, his eyes shifting to you before swiftly flitting away. “Of course he did. Here, I’ll watch Em for a bit if you want to mingle, Johnny’s mother was looking for you.”

Of course she was. Anxiety twisted deeper in your gut, the coffee bubbling up your throat. “Alright,” you said lightly, forcing a nod. “I’ll be inside if you need me, bear.” She nodded, turning to her uncle with a single minded purpose–to convince him to let her have some of the biscuits in the tin he had brought.

Susan, John’s mum, was sitting in the lobby of the funeral home, sorting the trays of casserole into neat rows. She was a thin, tired woman with the same blue eyes as your daughter.

“Susan,” you said, “I heard you were looking for me.” You opened your arms as she came in for a hug, her body brittle against yours. She had been sober for a few years now, mostly because you had refused to let her near Emma while she was drinking–which used to be every day.

“I need to tell you something,” Susan said, gripping your palms in a hard grip. “I just…I don’t know with Daddy gone now…” her eyes welled up.

You hugged her again, shushing her gently. “It’s alright, Susan,” you said, “Whatever it is can’t be that bad.”

Looking back, you were a right bloody idiot. Susan pulled away from you, joy sparking her face as she smiled. “Honey, he’s home.” Stupidly, you thought she was talking about Jack. 

She wasn’t.

The hair prickled at the back of your neck, your body aware before your brain could catch up. Your stomach twisted, dread spilling down your spine like ice.

He was behind you.

You refused to look, your eyes still locked with Susan’s teary gaze. “No,” you said quietly. “No, tell me you didn’t just let me walk into this.”

She had understood when you asked her not to tell John. She understood that her son had chosen war over you once again and that he didn’t deserve to be in your life.

“I’m sorry,” Susan said, squeezing your arm apologetically. 

A hand brushed against your shoulder, big and warm and so familiar it hurt. 

“Hey, bonnie,” John said roughly, his voice deeper than it used to be.

You couldn’t help yourself, you had to see. 

You pushed away from Susan, looking up into the familiar face of John Mctavish. 

He looked ten years older, but no less handsome, scars turning his face into something you didn’t recognize, something like a predator. He was still keeping his hair in that stupid fucking mowhawk, but he had gained an impressive amount of mass, so tall and thick he looked like a stranger.

You couldn’t breathe. 

Johnny. The only man you’ve ever loved. The father of your child.

The man that took your virginity and abandoned you, all in one night.

“It’s been awhile,” he said, his accent twisting up his words. 

You blinked. 

Emma.

Emma was outside and he had no idea. You had to leave, take her away from him. 

“It could have been longer, John,” you said, your voice so cold it stung your tongue as you spoke. The ache in your chest was overtaken by rage, pure and hot. “Excuse me.” You pushed past him, suddenly grateful you hadn’t worn the heels when your knees gave a funny little tremble. 

He moved, as if to catch you, as if to hold you still while he came up with whatever bullshit excuse he could think of–but you were faster, putting the crowd and tables between the two of you as you made a break for the door.

Emma, Emma, Emma.

Tom was with her, her skinny knees in his lap as they split a delicate almond biscuit. 

“Mum?” Her head went up, sniffing the air. “Mum, what’s wrong?”

Tom knew. He looked at you, guilty as sin. “Love,” he began, but you were already ripping her out of his arms, her arms and legs flailing as you made a break for the parking lot.

The funeral home’s door burst open, slamming against the wall with a crash that had you shoving your daughter into the back of your car, utterly deaf to her squawking. 

But John had already seen her. Smelled her. He stood in front of you, frozen in place.

“How old is she?” He asked, deadly calm. His blue eyes burned, like they used to when he was a teen, hormonal and angry. Always so angry.

“Go fuck yourself, Mctavish,” you snapped, reaching for your door. 

He was already there, hand slamming against your car door with a crack that split the air. Johnny really was different now, confidence stiffening his spine, his sheer size making you take a step back. 

What did they do to him overseas? He looked like he was about to eat you alive.

“No,” John said, sounding like a wounded animal. “Ye wouldn’t keep something like this from me.” “You’re right,” you said coldly. “I wouldn’t have. Then I spent three years of her life waiting for you to get your head out of your fucking arse. I called. I emailed. I sent a hundred fucking letters.” He made a noise like you gutted him, his eyes going to Emma.

She was curled up in the back of your car, wide-eyed and staring at John. Her father.

Of course she would know. She could smell it on him, her own flesh and blood.

“I…I didn’t know,” John said, “Hen, look at me-”

“I don’t care.” You wanted to scream. You wanted to cry. You wanted to dig your nails into his skin and hurt him like he hurt you. “We don’t need you, we never needed you. I loved you, and you left for years. Deal with the consequences.”

Johnny Mctavish, a wolf, a soldier, flinched from you. 

It wasn’t the victory you thought it would be.

You ripped your door open, and he let you. You put the car in reverse and sped out of the parking lot, and he let you.

“Mum?” Emma said cautiously. “Mum was that…”

“We’ll never see him again, Em,” you said, utterly sure of that fact. “Forget him. John always runs.”

[wifiwuxians]

Hear me out... Tokyo Mew Mew AU for the Yi City Fam

STOPPP I LITERALLY HAVE A TOKYO MEW MEW AU FOR LIKE A BUNCH OF CHARACTERS AND THEY'RE IN IT LOL BUT THIS NEEDS SOME REWORKING UH

first off, the cast. XY is Kisshu. he has to be. not because of any choice opinions on how to treat a lady or anything but because they're both the little shit who has given me gender envy. AQ is Pudding because look at them. enough said. also ever since i was a kid i was obsessed with the idea of Kisshu and Pudding having a sibling banter bond and i was robbed. i suppose XXC would be the obvious protagonist so Ichigo? I only say this bc I really REALLY WANT SL TO BE DEEP BLUE LMAOOO THAT HAIR!!!!!!! SL is in his villain era now

That aside, obviously it's not all 1:1. I still want to make AQ a monkey girl because that's too cute, but she fights with a staff! The cafe, which in this would be run by XXC himself (inherited it and the research from BSSR?) is less cutesy because they don't need to lure in teenage girls, but it's still a cozy and traditional place where you can rent out hanfu for the day or something adorable like that. Still 100% a front for a secret lab though. XXC's animal would be a great white heron, he'd get majestic wings and a flowy outfit that would still allow him to fight (and fly)! Since it's sort of lame to just have 2 animal people I sort of want SL to also be an animal person (a human-alien hybrid thing who is now also an animal person... save some for the rest of us), so he'd be a leopard >:) XY is just a cute lil alien showing his midriff and fucking around and waiting for his Great Leader to wake the fuck up so everyone can go home and he can kill every human on earth

XY's reason for hating humans, aside from the fact they stole his homeland and poisoned it, is that he was captured as an infant on a recon mission and terribly experimented on. that same recon mission resulted in the death of BSSR and SL's adoptive parents, who were working with her on her alien research. however, they were not the ones to cut this poor boy open, but it doesn't matter. All Scientists Must Die and all humans too.

XXC took AQ off the streets where she was performing for cash and had been doing so for years, he's trying to get her paperwork in order so she can go to school properly. she has no family save for him. they met on a rainy day, where XXC got in an accident trying to prevent AQ from suffering the same fate. she took him to the hospital and stayed by his side and they've been inseparable ever since. XXC never intended for her to get infused with animal DNA, as he wanted this to be a solo thing (it's XXC, he's self sacrificial to a fault), but the machine malfunctioned and she got caught in the blast. she's fine with this, as she would do anything to make XXC happy, even if she hates dealing with customers at the cafe and prefers to be the bookkeeper.

SL was also caught in the blast, as he was visiting the cafe to try and return a book to XXC. they both take the same environmentalism course at uni!! SL is unaware of his adoptive parents' work (until the story conveniently reveals it to him) and only knows they were researching the environment, so he's very studious and dedicated, serious and passionate, so their memory can live on and he can make them proud. but also he just loves nature. he's also unaware of the Darkness Inside Him though he has scary dreams sometimes. XXC is at first horrified to get him involved, but soon loves having him by his side; they train together and uncover more of their parents' research while fighting big weird aliens. XXC has been so alone ever since his mother's passing, putting on a brave face for everyone and trying to keep his spirits high, but AQ and SL becoming important parts of his life has been a balm for his soul. but then XY is there outside his window at 3 AM demanding they throw knives at each other until someone dies or some shit so his studies are falling behind a little bit lmao

as a fun extra, in the original massive AU with a bunch of non Yi City characters, XY was split into two (as i tend to do) and one was Kisshu and the other was Ichigo. think of XY in fun lil strawberry shorts and with the whole cat getup. it was great

SORRY THIS IS SO RAMBLY LMAO I LOVE TMM SM AHHH

[cologona]

All-Caste headcanons:

- Essence is short for “Breath Essence”. She prefers to translate her name rather than to allow anyone to know what it actually is. She is more militant than her mother and generally has a more youthful personality.

- Ducra prefers to tell people the phonetics of her name but never the meaning. Her precognition is clearer and she is generally the more level-headed and capable of conniving.

- Essence and Ducra don’t have true immortality due to rejecting the Spirit of the Well of Sins. Instead they take turns giving birth to one another each time they die.

- While the League’s base is located in the western end of the Himalayas, the Acres of All are located in eastern Tibet. Essence, Ducra, and the Untitled are all Tibetan. (Or more accurately, they’re so old they come from a proto-Tibetan culture.)

- Jason spent a few weeks with the All-Caste during his Lost Days world training tour. Ostensibly to learn meditation and how to protect his mind against outside influence, but in actuality Ducra also wanted to offer Jason the All-Blades. (Talia didn’t know until after Jason had already done the deal.)

- Despite being The Good Guys, the All-Caste are technically still users of black magic. Jason wasn’t really given the All-Blades so much as he was forged. They are a manifestation of his soul. Typically, the only thing left of the ritual’s subject is the blade. That Jason is alive to use, and even mutate the number and shape of the All-Blades is an anomaly. (Ducra foresaw this -among other events- which is why she made the offer in the first place.)

- Having become a spiritual weapon, if Jason ever dies for real he will almost certainly neither go to hell nor heaven. The condition that the All-Blades can only be drawn in the presence of evil is something Jason himself asked for. His magic glowing tattoo is a curse meant to allow him a modicum of agency even if he loses everything else.

- After Jason emerged from his meditation in the caves, Essence took him on a day out to do some mounted shooting. This is how Jason learns to ride a horse. Despite some members of the All-Caste feeling uneasy about involving him, for a variety reasons both political and ethical, Jason’s time with the All-Caste ends on a high note.

- The Untitled thrive in a miserable psychic environment like plants, and are basically energy vampires. Although they have a craving for human flesh (and are even able to learn information based on the organ consumed), cannibalism isn’t necessary for them.

- The treaty between the All-Caste and Untitled determined that the League of Assassins would protect the Well of Sins as a sort of neutral third party, and as long as neither the All-Caste nor Untitled ‘significantly interfered with mortal matters’ they would not go to war again. Both the All-Caste and the Untitled pushed the boundaries of this treaty over time though.

- The “Rahul Lama” that Tim learned pressure points from in Paris was a former student of the All-Caste!

[bridgyrose]

Penny nearly flinched as she heard the sound of a hammer slamming down onto molten metal, her eyes wandered around to look at the spirits that flew around her like fireflies. It was unlike anywhere she’d seen on Remnant, and yet, almost familiar to her. As if it was something she’d seen in a dream. “W-where… am I?” 

“This is the Ever After,” the Blacksmith replied as they looked up from the anvil, almost curious as they looked over Penny. “Though, you aren’t one of mine.” 

“One of yours?” 

“Someone who belongs in the Ever After. No, you’re a lost soul. One that shouldnt belong here, but needs help.” 

“I-I guess I am lost,” Penny answered quietly as she looked away. “Though, I-I am not sure how I got here to begin with. I know I died, but I… I do not know why I am here.” 

“No one in the Ever After dies, they ascend,” the Blacksmith answered. “You must’ve been caught between Remnant and here instead, so instead of making it to the afterlife in Remnant, you’ll be allowed to ascend and take on a new life.” 

“But I do not want a new life, I want the one I had with Ruby.” A faint blush crossed her cheeks as she said those words and a smile crossed her lips. “She made me feel… human. Like every part of me mattered and that I was more than just a weapon. That I was loved and cared for, that I was allowed to be my own person. I-I do not wish to live a life where I did not know Ruby.” 

The Blacksmith smiled and offered a piece of floating array to Penny. “Choosing yourself is always an option, though I cannot guarantee where you’ll end up once you’re back, only that you’ll arrive where you’re needed most.” 

Penny nodded and reached for her weapon, only to pause as she caught her reflection in the blade. For a brief moment, she had thought about choosing a different life, one where she could be anyone she wanted. One where she didnt have to be her. And yet, even with those thoughts in mind, she took hold of her sword. 

The blade itself was warm, nothing like how she thought it’d been. She smiled at the Blacksmith as she felt herself start to get pulled away. “Thank you.” 

“Good luck, Penny.” 

Penny took a deep breath as she felt her body plunge into a pool of white light beneath her, only for everything around her to turn black. Then she felt a pain in her side as she gasped, green eyes opening wide as she started to pant. Finally, she started to get her bearings as she realized she was on a cot in a tent. 

“You’re finally awake,” a young man said with a smile. “Mom said you were probably as good as dead when we found you. Figured some bandits left you for dead after taking anything they could from you. She’ll be surprised you’re awake.” 

Penny nodded and sat up, wincing as the wound on her stomach started to act up. Her fingers clutched at the bandages around her side, still getting used to the feeling of being alive again. “Where… where am I?” 

“About four days north of Vacuo,” the young man answered. “Though we’re probably going to get moving again in a few days. You’re welcome to stay with us until we can get to a village that has an airship. Otherwise, we might be able to lend you a horse once you’re feeling up to traveling.” 

“That is fine, I can call my friends and-” Penny paused for a moment as she searched through the pockets of her dress, unable to find her scroll. She frowned a bit and leaned back a bit. “Or not. Do you have a scroll I can borrow? I am sure Ruby is worried about me.” 

“I’m sure we can find one. By the way, I’m Garnet Valkyrie.” 

“Penny Polendina,” Penny answered. 

“Its nice to meet you. I’ll let you rest and grab some food for you.” 

Penny relaxed a bit and laid down. “Valkyrie, huh?” she thought to herself. The only Valkyrie she knew was Nora, though now that she thought about it, Garnet did look a lot like her. The same orange hair and blue eyes, though he did seem to have the same smile as Ren along with his skin tone. 

She sat up again as she heard someone outside the tent, then paused once she saw a woman walk in with a plate of meat and bread for her. Familiar orange hair had a few streaks of gray, her skin was scarred in a way that looked like lightning had run through her body. 

“You must be Penny,” the woman said as she placed the plate down next to Penny. “Garnet said you woke up and I wanted to meet you myself.” 

Penny nodded and took the plate, still staring at the woman. Now hearing her voice, without a doubt she knew exactly who this was. “Thanks, Nora.” 

Nora cocked a brow. “How do you know my name?” 

“Its me, Penny,” Penny answered as she tried to move off the cot and stand up, wincing before she could move enough to get her legs over the side. “Though it seems to have been a long time.” 

Nora took a step back as she looked Penny over. “P-Penny… but you… Ruby told us you were killed… how are you back?” 

“I do not understand it myself.” Penny looked over her hand and smiled a bit. “But I met a woman who gave me another chance. A chance to be with Ruby again and to help others.” 

“That… might be a problem,” Nora said quietly. “A lot has changed since you died.” 

“LIke what? And where is Ruby?” 

“Assuming Weiss hasnt moved her yet, she’s still buried out on Patch.” 

“I… I do not understand.” 

Nora sighed and sat down. “Ruby was killed by Cinder just a couple years after Atlas fell. Then we lost Sun and Coco while trying to reclaim Vale and the relic. We lost a lot of friends while trying to stop Salem.” 

Penny felt her heart stop for a moment as she listened, her whole reason for being alive gone. She was supposed to be here for Ruby, and yet, with Ruby gone… A tear fell into her lap and she moved a finger to her eye to wipe away a few more, not sure when she had started to cry. “I… I want to see her.” 

“Ren and I will send out a rider to the closest village to see if they have an airship that can take you to Patch.” Nora sat up and gave Penny a sad smile. “I’m glad to see you again, but… I’d be careful giving your name out. A few of the churches see you as a saint now. If they find out you’re back, its anyone’s guess about what they’ll do.” 

“Thanks, Nora.” Penny slowly picked up some meat with her fork, staring at her reflection on her fork. She still looked like she did all those years ago, out of place compared to everyone else. But now, she had a start. She’d go to Patch and visit Ruby and then try to find her place in this world. 

Weeks went by as Penny healed and an airship came for her to take her to Patch, and over those weeks she learned more about what she had missed. Salem had been defeated a little over a couple decades ago and a monument now stood in a reclaimed Vale to memorialize those that lost their lives to stopping Salem. Atlas had been rebuilt and renamed as Neo Atlas, a reminder to humanity that nothing is ever lost. And the grimm had started to become restless. Without Salem to control them, while many areas saw grimm keeping to themselves, others like Mistral started to see the grimm attack in larger groups, making it harder to keep villages safe away from the kingdom walls. Even as the airship flew over Vale, she could still see the mark that Salem left with her grimm river, much of the farmland now dead due to the grimm. 

“We’ll be arriving at Patch shortly,” the pilot said over the speakers. “Please stay seated in case of grimm activity.” 

Penny stared outside the window for a little longer before making her way back to her seat, her heart pounding in her chest as her emotions ran wild. Love, grief, terror, anger… all of it still new to her. She took a few deep breaths to calm her heart as the airship descended, lucky that there werent any airborne grimm around to halt the descent. Finally the airship landed and Penny clutched the armrest of her seat. 

“You may now depart.” 

Penny slowly got up and filed out of the airship with everyone else with shaky steps. Cold air hit her cheeks as she stepped off the airship, a reminder that it was mid fall. She shivered as she walked away from the landing pad and into the streets of Patch, pulling what was left of Ruby’s cloak that Nora gave her over her shoulders. It wasnt warm, but it at least kept the breeze off as she walked through the small town and out towards the place Nora said Ruby had been buried. 

It took almost an hour for Penny to reach the gravesite, her cheeks red from the cold wind and her body aching from the cold. She hadnt been sure what to expect, but seeing Ruby’s grave next to her mother’s did bring her a bit of comfort. Penny knelt down and rubbed her hands together to try to keep warm. Tears welled up and stung her eyes as it finally hit her that Ruby was gone. 

She wasnt sure how long she sat there on her knees shivering, but as the cold air stopped, she looked up to see a glyph behind the grave blocking the wind. Then, she turned to her left, then to her right to see a woman she didnt quite recognize  standing next to her. At least, until she saw the scar underneath what she could only describe as stress induced wrinkles. “Thanks,” Penny said quietly. 

“Its a bit cold to be out here dressed like that, dont you think?” Weiss asked. 

“I-I just came from Vacuo. I did not expect it to be this cold.” 

“Maybe this will help.” 

Penny paused when she saw Weiss hand over a green cloak, almost surprised that she still had the cloak that Ruby had given her in Atlas. She slowly reached for it, then pulled away. “I-I cannot accept-” 

“Please, take it, its only going to get colder tonight.” 

Penny nodded and took the cloak from Weiss and put it over her shoulders. The fabric felt warm against her skin, much warmer than what she had before. “I will make sure to return it to you before I leave.” 

Weiss shook her head. “After Ruby passed, we thought we went through everything she had. I only found this today when I got a message about a lockbox we never knew about. I was planning to leave it as an offering for her, but I think she’ll be happy to know its being put to good use now.” 

“I am glad she kept it,” Penny whispered under her breath. Her chest felt warm as she kept the cloak around her arms, glad she had something more to remember Ruby by. “How do you know she would not mind?” 

“She always wanted to help people even until she died.” Weiss knelt down and lit a small candle at the side of Ruby’s grave. “What brings you out to her? Only a few of us know she’s here.” 

“I-I wanted to… pay my respects to one of the fallen heroes,” Penny lied as a small hiccough escaped her lips. Well, it wasnt a complete lie, she did want to pay respects to Ruby, but not because she was a hero. Because of what she meant to Ruby, to try to say the words she never did to her. “But I should get going.” 

“Since you’re out here, why not come to my place for some tea to warm up? Next airship wont leave until morning and it’ll be a pain to get a room at the inn.” 

“That… that would be lovely.” 

“I’m Weiss,” Weiss said as she stood up and offered a hand to Penny. “What’s your name?” 

“P-Pen- Penelope,” Penny answered through another hiccough. She took Weiss’s hand and smiled a bit. “I go by Peneolpe.” 

“You look familiar. Like an old friend I knew.” 

“Maybe you can tell me stories about her. A-and Ruby. I would very much like to hear more about Ruby.”

“Tea first to warm you up, and then I can tell you a few stories.”

—---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Penny motioned for her swords to swing around to slice through the grimm, a smile crossing her lips as she watched the blades move as commanded. It took months to get everything to work, and while she was glad that she could finally take them on a test run, the amount of grimm that were showing up had started to worry her. She looked behind her towards the caravan she was protecting, yelling between breaths. “Get across the bridge now!”

“Are you sure you can handle this?” the caravan leader yelled back. “There’s no shame in blowing the bridge!”

“My job is to make sure you get across the bridge and to the next village!” Penny took a few steps back towards the bridge, eyes on the grimm in front of her. “I will follow once you are across!”

“We’ll hold you to that, Penelope!”

Penny sighed as she heard the name, still not quite used to being called it. Still, she couldnt worry about that now, not while the grimm were more aggressive than normal. Her blades stayed between her and the grimm as she tried to keep them from the caravan. Then, she paused as a larger beowolf made its way closer. She swore the eyes were silver instead of red, her body freezing as she remembered the Hound when it attacked.

She came out of her thoughts as she felt the grimm ran into her. Penny lost her footing and fell back, slipping off the edge of the bridge. No scream left her lips as she fell down the abyss, swearing she saw silver eyes staring back at her as she listened to the caravan leader call out her name. Soon, she felt water rush around her. It was warmer than she had expected, almost turning to light as she continued to sink. She closed her eyes, ready to accept her fate until she felt air across her face.

Penny gasped as she swam to shore and climbed out of the water, coughing as her body practically glowed. She picked herself up and started to walk back to the bridge she had fallen from, pausing as she watched a gash on her arm heal itself. With a sigh, she continued moving on forward, ready to continue her work.

[dlanadhz]

Love's Clumsy Guide

Title: Love's Clumsy Guide Fandom: Last Twilight Tags: Supernatural, Mhok is a Cupid, Alternate Universe, Red String of Fate, True Love, Soulmates, Happy Ending, Elements of Buddhism and Hinduism, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Canonical Character Death

Summary: Mhok is a sprite, maneuvering through the populace of Thailand. His duty as a sprite is to help souls find their matches. A sort of true love, soul mate deal. Mhok had no problem with this duty until the day his sister died. Now, coarse and adverse to the idea of true love, Mhok has slackened in his duties. Until a blind young man takes notice of him and reminds him that love is something worth fighting for. But while Mhok’s belief in love might still be salvaged, is it too late to save him from a god’s wrath? AO3 Chapter Link: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7

Tumblr Chapter Link: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7

Chapter 1 below the cut. Word count: 5,071

The sun was high, but the breeze was cool, brushing through the folds of clothes as it danced among the crowds. Mhok sat on a fence post and watched people passing, smiling at what he saw. Lines twisted from person to person, linking them together like ghostly ribbons, and Mhok could see where each thread led - even if it led miles away. As a woman walked within a breath of his seat, he reached out and touched the threads of fate that trailed off her soul.

He closed his eyes, enjoying the fluttering feeling of every connection and then easily finding the one he was looking for.

“Well, it’s your lucky day,” he mused, twisting his finger and curling a thread around it. It did not impede the woman’s movement, but Mhok hopped up to follow her anyway.

He knew from touching the strand exactly who this strand led to. Her soul’s best match – her soulmate, as some might say – was on the other end. Luckily for her, it was Mhok’s job to bring these two souls closer together. Without sprites like Mhok, these two people may never meet, and the energy of their love would be lost on the world. Bringing soulmates together, whether romantic or platonic, gave a burst of soul energy back to the world, allowing more positive energy to bring peace and goodness to people.

Mhok loved his job because he was a sucker for love himself. Though, being an invisible sprite, he had never known love for himself, he just relished watching the dance people did as they tiptoed closer to true love and happiness. Maybe it was corny, but he was a real romantic.

It was his sister’s fault. She was his twin spirit, the closest to a soulmate someone like him would ever get. She understood him and he understood her, and she taught him how to bring souls together faster and with more sweetness than he had figured out for himself. She had a knack for pulling together souls that seemed like they would never match, but once they did they gave a burst of energy so large that all the spirits felt an energy high for months.

Once Mhok finished getting this woman matched, he would go find his sister to brag. Undoubtedly, she would have gotten two or three pairs together in the time it took him to do one, but that was fine. He liked giving her a chance to show off. She always looked so proud and happy.

The woman was walking up to a temple now, and Mhok trailed behind her, eyes scanning the people around. He could feel her pair was nearby, like a tingling on his skin. After a few moments, the woman knelt to pray, and Mhok felt the thread around his finger go taught.

“Gotcha,” he whispered, quiet so no one would hear him.

He might be hard to detect, but humans weren’t completely dumb. If he was too loud or too obvious, people could still notice him, and that was not recommended. Humanity historically didn’t respond well to supernatural creatures in their midst. If he stayed quiet, he’d remain a flicker on the edge of their peripheral vision, a glimmer of light they quickly dismissed.

Sprites could make themselves visible, of course. Sometimes humans needed a more hands-on approach to get them headed in the right direction. But the sprites and gods Mhok knew always preferred to keep that as a final option, not a first one.

Well, some sprites let themselves be seen for other reasons. Rung, for example, claimed to be in love with a human, and she often let herself be visible to talk to him. He seemed nice enough, and he would die relatively soon – all humans did – so Mhok wasn’t too worried. His sister was smart and wouldn’t reveal her true nature to a human.

The string on Mhok’s hand pulled tight again, drawing Mhok’s eye away from the woman.

A man was entering the temple from another staircase. If Mhok did nothing, his woman would leave the way she’d come and they’d never meet on this day. But Mhok wasn’t going to sit idly by, not when their string of fate was so strong. So when the woman stood up, Mhok let out a slow breath and tugged on the string wrapped around his finger.

The woman gasped as she tripped and stumbled away from her own staircase. At the same time, the man stumbled in her direction. When they had both regained their footing, they glanced up and noticed each other. The woman smiled shyly, and though the man appeared confident, he was embarrassed too.

“Oh, pardon me,” the woman said, bowing her head slightly. “I’m not usually that clumsy.”

“Me neither,” the man said. “Ah, have you finished your visit?”

And just like that, they struck up a conversation. The string in Mhok’s fingers hummed with delight, and he gently pulled his hand free. Quietly, he slipped away and down the steps.

When strings were so obviously connected, it wasn’t hard to begin an attraction. These two had easily felt drawn together, and the man would end up walking her home. They would soon be together, and that alone would give energy back to the gods and the world. And since they were a romantic pair, when they exchanged a vow of promise to each other, that energy would grow exponentially.

It was the strings Rung toyed with that were impressive. She loved finding those hard to see strings, the ones that even they could barely see but which trembled when you noticed them and grew into the strongest bonds of all when nurtured.

Mhok had chosen an easy couple for the day, so undoubtedly Rung would have a better story.

Outside of the temple, Mhok walked down the river and to a bridge where he always met his sister. They would watch the sunset together and then head home, as they always did. But normally, Rung was already waiting on the bridge. Instead, Mhok was the only sprite visible when he reached the middle. Strange.

He raised his hand, prepared to call on his sister, when a young man crossed in front of him and Mhok had to abruptly stop moving so as not to run into him. Mhok watched the young man walk away, and it even seemed that the young man glanced back at Mhok for a moment. In that brief moment, Mhok’s heart rate sped up with anticipation. The urge to be seen, to be noticed, welled up inside him. Especially by a cutie like that guy. But then the man turned away, a confused expression on his face, and he continued on, unaware of the sprite he’d just nearly run into.

Frowning, Mhok rubbed at his chest. He needed to learn not to get his hopes up like that. He wasn’t human, and most humans didn’t give him a second glance. And if they did, he knew he was supposed to run away. There weren’t many good tales of humans and sprites mingling. Worst case scenario, that cute young man would try to kill him. Best case, he’d ask Mhok for some kind of supernatural favor. There was no friendship to be had with humans.

Laughing softly at his own foolishness, Mhok turned from the sight of the young man, ready to go find his sister, but something else stopped him again. Another person was standing right in front of him, but unlike the young man, they were looking right at him. It was another sprite – Porjai. Mhok had known her for a millenia, and normally he loved to see her. Except they rarely sought each other out while working.

“Porjai?” Mhok asked, confused. He glanced around. The walking path was clear of humans, since most of them had already headed for home. It would be dark soon. Humans didn’t like the dark. “What are you doing here?”

“P’Mhok,” she greeted, voice tight and squeaky.

She never called him P’Mhok. They had long since stopped using polite titles with each other. The title could only mean one thing – that whatever she had come to tell him was serious or hard to say.

Mhok pressed his lips together, glanced around again, and then faced his friend. “Porjai, why are you here? Is Rung with you?”

She was gorgeous in her pale sabai and sinh, her hair pulled back except for the swoop of bangs she let fall loose. Normally she stood tall and graceful and strong, but now she stood in front of him, shoulders hunched, face fighting against tears. She shook her head, opened her mouth to speak, couldn’t find the words, and covered her mouth with a pained sob.

“Porjai!” Mhok snatched up her wrist, not keeping his voice down. “Where is my sister?”

“I’m sorry,” Porjai said, weeping now. “She was– She’s gone.”

Gone? Gone like what? Like how humans are ‘gone’? Gone like dead? But that didn’t make any sense!

“What do you mean? How can she be gone? She’s a sprite. We don’t just– What do you mean? Where is she?” Mhok closed his eyes against the news, tapped into the spirit world and tried to sense his sister’s spirit.

He could always find her when he needed to. He could be at her side in an instant if he could just find her energy. They were connected like humans were, their soul bond clear and strong. So– So why couldn’t he sense her anywhere? His stomach dropped and it felt like someone was crushing his heart.

“Porjai–” His voice broke. His heart broke.

A sprite dying was not unheard of. If they weren’t careful, they could be killed by humans, and if they failed in their duties, they could face punishment from their god. Mhok had noticed several sprites disappear over the countless years of his life, but not his friends. Not his sister.

“No.” He dropped to his knees, his whole soul aching. “How?”

“… Theerapanyakul,” Porjai admitted reluctantly.

Ice filled in Mhok’s veins and he clenched his fists. Theerapanyakul. The human his sister claimed to be in love with. Rung must have done something stupid after all. She must have told her human that she was a sprite. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid! How had she misjudged so thoroughly? How could someone be loved by Rung and be so ungrateful? How could love end so terribly in an unnatural death?

Mhok wanted to find the human and kick his ass, to do the same to him that the man did to Rung. Except sprites of the god of love weren’t meant to use violence. Except killing a human was against the rules. Except killing Theerapanyakul wouldn’t bring Rung back.

“Mhok?” Porjai’s sad, thick voice called to him. “Mhok, snap out of it.”

His sister was dead. She wasn’t coming back. He felt a hole opening in his chest, and he couldn’t stop it from growing. He pressed a hand hard against his sternum, trying to fend off the pain and the helplessness. Porjai was kneeling in front of him, grabbing him and shaking him by the shoulders.

He held his hand out and a thread appeared in the air, connected from Mhok’s chest and ending in the empty air. It was the one that used to be connected to his sister. In the air above his hand, he watched it blacken and turn to dust. And it hurt.

“Porjai,” he whispered, feeling broken. She pulled him into her chest and held him tight as he buried his face against her. “What am I gonna do?”

— — —

Forty years to a human is a lifetime. Forty years is enough time for a war to begin and end, for a species to die off, for technology to advance faster and farther than ever before. Forty years was enough time to heal most wounds.

To a god’s sprite, forty years was nothing.

Mhok sat on the wall that outlined a college campus and watched all the young adults coming and going, all on their phones in one way or another, and all of them trailing a few visible strings of fate. He could easily reach out and find one in the air without even leaving his perch. Yet he kept his hands securely in his pockets.

That young man could meet his soulmate in the campus library if Mhok simply tugged on the string to give him the idea of going there.

That professor could meet her new best friend if Mhok expended enough energy to make her spill her morning coffee and caused her to need to stop by the cafe across the street.

He could sense the strings of fate, sense the outcomes of his meddling. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Then he turned away from the crowds and ignored the call of the strings. He always felt a little colder after ignoring such easy targets, but he’d felt cold for forty years. He hardly noticed anymore.

Behind him, he heard a gasp and then an irritated groan. Glancing back, he saw the professor sighing at the sight of her morning coffee dropped on the concrete in front of her. She checked her watch, glanced up at the school, back down at her watch, then turned and hurried away toward the cafe to grab a quick cup of coffee before work. She would meet the cafe manager, and over time they would become the closest of friends.

The young man also stopped walking, looked curious, and then decided to turn and head for the library to study instead of heading into the food court to hang out with his friends. He’d make eye contact with a young woman through the stacks, and the rest would be beautiful history.

A loud sigh from beside him drew Mhok’s attention away, and he found Porjai sitting on the wall beside him.

“I told you not to follow me,” Mhok grumbled.

“Yeah, but if I did that, all these souls you’re meant to be connecting would go on being disconnected, and then where would the world be?” Porjai swung her legs carelessly. “You’re lucky you’ve even got me to come around once in a while to tidy up your mess.”

“You know I don’t like leading people to love anymore,” Mhok reminded her. After all, what was the point of love if that love could stab you in the back? If that love could leave you feeling hollow and broken?

“And you know that if you don’t lead enough people, Trimurti will not be pleased with you. You don’t get endless chances from a god, not even if you’re that god’s servant.” Porjai shoved gently at his shoulder. “Come on. I’ve lost enough friends in the last few decades. Don’t make me add you to the list just because you want to be stubborn.”

“I’m not stubborn.” Mhok turned to sit cross legged on the wall, only possible because he wasn’t human. “Listen to what you just said. We’ve lost four more of our numbers in the last four decades. And why? Because humans are greedy and selfish, and when they notice they’re being toyed with – even when it's for their own happiness – they lash out and kill love.”

Porjai sighed again and stood up on the wall. “You keep saying that, but I know you don’t believe it. Not deep down. Before Rung – … I never knew a love sprite who loved love more than you.”

“Well that was before,” he grumbled.

“No. One day, that ice in your soul will finally melt, and you’ll remember how warm you used to be.” Porjai crossed her arms. “I just need that to happen before the Trimurti turn you into a fish or a statue or something.”

Rolling his eyes, Mhok turned away from her. “Luckily, I’ve got you connecting souls for me so I go unnoticed. We’re golden.”

His friend hopped off the wall, landing effortlessly on the ground below him. Then she turned and glared up at him. “Don’t be an idiot, Mhok. You’re too old to act this naive. I miss her too, but we can’t give up on the world like that. Rung wouldn’t want us to, and you know it. Now pull your head out of your ass and get to work.” She frowned and then tried to look less annoyed as she softly added, “Tomorrow’s an anniversary. Maybe it can mark your new beginning too.”

Then she turned and walked away, fizzling into the air before he could argue the idea.

Forty years since the death of his sister. Mhok slipped off the wall and landed nearly soundless on the concrete sidewalk below. A nearby student glanced over at the soft sound, but didn’t even hesitate in their gait as they walked on by. Mhok didn’t see any reason why the forty year anniversary had to be any different than the years before. He was still invisible. His sister was still dead. He was still cold. He couldn’t just flip a switch and change these things.

“Trimurti, bless me,” he said, but it sounded more like a swear. “Guess I’ll head back to Bangkok tomorrow. For all the good that’ll do.” Then he started walking, not caring where he ended up.

— — —

Bangkok could change names, but it couldn’t change its soul. It was still a busy city, where people came to visit and experience Thailand. It was a hub. And with all the technological advances and the ever growing population, it was sometimes so crowded and so photogenic that it made staying out of people’s way and unnoticed very difficult.

Mhok had to concentrate to be intangible – it wasn’t his natural state of being – and if he was just walking around, he didn’t want to expend that kind of energy. So he stayed mostly on top of things – buses, fences, the occasional overhang – to stay out of people’s way. When it was less busy, though, he loved to just walk around and feel the ground beneath his feet. Or shoes. Depending on the day.

It was in Bangkok that his sister met her demise. Stabbed by the man she loved and who she thought loved her too. He’d caught her off guard, so she didn’t have time to run. He’d taken advantage of her love.

Mhok came to a stop on his journey just outside of a small temple’s columbarium. Rung was not interred there, of course. Upon death, her spirit faded and became part of the Earth. But this temple was where Mhok and Porjai had used some of their power to make a plaque for her. There was no urn behind her nameplate, but it gave them somewhere to mourn her, to visit her. And the temple was close enough to where she’d met her tragic end. So far, no monk or anyone else had noticed the nameplate that none of them had installed, and Mhok hoped they never would.

Most people who visited their loved ones brought offerings and said prayers or at least spoke to their family. Mhok did none of those things. He knelt before his sister’s plaque and just stared at her name - Rung Pankhamdi. Porjai had chosen the last name. It was a play on a name meaning “petals” or “delicate flower”. She said it fit Rung. She said it fit Mhok too.

He took a seat in front of the empty grave for a while, feeling empty and cold. After an hour, he leaned forward to clean away the grime the last year had brought to the letters. An hour after that felt like no time at all, but he was ready to leave the temple, and the memory of his sister, behind him for another year.

As he stood, someone bumped harshly into him from behind, and he complained on reflex before remembering he was supposed to be quiet around people.

“Excuse me,” the other person said, giving him a wai, and then stumbled on. It was a young man with distant eyes, and he reached out for the wall to steady himself as he moved through the temple. Was he drunk? He didn’t smell of alcohol.

Mhok put his hand on his upper arm, feeling where the other had run into him. It had been a long long time since any human had given a wai in his direction or spoken to him. Mhok blamed that for why he was a little curious about the situation. On light feet, he followed after the other man.

“Oi! Day!” someone shouted behind them. Mhok glanced back, but the young man merely stiffened and picked up his pace. Mhok closed his eyes and let his hand hover in the air. Effortlessly, he found the string that led from the young man to whomever was calling for him.

Ah. A brother. And what a tangled string they had. Mhok could spend the rest of the day untangling it, learning its secrets and possibly mending the bond a little, but he wasn’t quite that invested yet. He was just… a little curious.

The young man – was his name Day? – turned a corner and found himself in a small garden. He didn’t pause at the sight. He didn’t hesitate at all until he found himself accidentally boxed in by a small pagoda of trees and bushes. There were benches hidden inside this alcove of nature, meant to be a relaxing spot to rest during a visit to the temple. Day bumped his shin on one of the benches, then hopped to the side to sit down. From outside of the rest area, he was virtually invisible.

Mhok stepped into the entrance of the sitting area and watched the young man rub and nurse his newly bruised shin. It was vaguely cut and starting to slowly bleed. Nothing too bad, but he might want a bandage.

“It’s creepy to stand and stare at someone,” Day complained. “Sit down or go away.”

Mhok turned around, expecting to see another person nearby, but there was no one. Just Day and himself. Except Mhok should be almost impossible to notice. Day shouldn’t be able to look at him unless Mhok allowed himself to be seen. Only, Mhok realized that Day wasn’t looking at him at all. He was staring off in front of himself, not looking at Mhok, not looking at the leg he was carefully touching to discern the damage.

He was blind.

“Okay, if you keep being a creep, I’ll scream,” Day threatened. His fingers finally brushed his injury and he winced.

Mhok smirked. “No you won’t. You’re trying to stay hidden, aren’t you?”

Day frowned. “How do you know that?”

Shrugging, Mhok stepped into the alcove and stood in front of Day. “You bumped into me while running away. Remember?”

“Oh.” Day took a deep breath and hesitated. His eyes were unfocused, but his brow knit temporarily together in confusion. He took another slow breath, then shook his head minutely. “Okay. Whatever. I said I was sorry, didn’t I? Why did you follow me?”

“I thought you were drunk,” Mhok answered, partially telling the truth.

“Well, I’m not. You can go now.” Day waved him off, irritated but also nervous.

Talking. With another person. A person who wasn’t trying to convince him to forget his sister and move on and grow bonds of love. Mhok felt a tingle in his hands and couldn’t stop the small smile lifting his lips.

“Looks like you hurt yourself. Want a bandage?” he asked. With a flip of his hand, he easily produced one from thin air. Day didn’t even twitch, which was further proof he couldn’t see Mhok at all.

The younger man wrinkled his nose. “You’re a weirdo, you know that? And you smell like– like–”

Mhok crossed his arms, ready to be amused. “Like what?”

“Like old, burnt incense.” Day rubbed at his nose, as if that would rid him of the scent.

Mhok was no longer amused. He should have a pleasant aroma, if anything. He was a sprite of the god of love. Burnt incense? He frowned. Perhaps Porjai was right. He wasn’t doing his duty and it was affecting him. No. Mhok shook himself. This human was just bitter and defensive. There was no way Mhok smelled that strongly of something as unpleasant as something burning.

“Rude.” Sucking his teeth, Mhok leaned forward and set the bandage on Day’s uninjured thigh. “There. A bandage. Patch yourself up and get back to your family before you run into anything else.”

“What? You’re gonna leave a blind guy to put on his own bandage?” Day griped.

His attitude did not move Mhok to help. In fact, it made Mhok take a step back. That and the idea that maybe Day really could smell him, and that maybe Mhok really did smell like something burning. But no. No, he only backed away because he didn’t like Day’s attitude.

“You’re a big boy. You can figure it out yourself.” He was far enough back that he could see straight out the entryway and down the path they’d come. Another attractive young man was at the corner of the wall, looking around for someone. “Better hurry. I think your brother is about to find you.”

On the bench, Day ducked his head but then quickly grabbed the bandage to tear it open. It took him a moment, but he found the spot to peel it, and then he exposed one side of the adhesive. Haltingly, he felt his leg for the wound again, and winced again when he found it. Then he brought the bandage slowly toward the wound, clearly unsure if he was going to miss entirely despite his efforts.

His brother was getting closer, though he was mostly scanning the exposed areas of the garden and temple.

Day bumped the bandage against his leg, realized it was nowhere near its target, groaned and pulled it off. He was determined and trying, but he once again got the bandage stuck before it ever got close to the wound. He growled softly, frustrated, and Mhok couldn’t watch him struggle anymore.

Carefully, Mhok knelt in front of Day and stopped his hand with the bandage. At first, Day startled, but then he easily released his hold on the bandage as Mhok tugged it free. Mhok placed his hand on Day’s shin to let Day know what he was doing, and then he easily affixed the bandage over the scrape. When he was done, he looked up into Day’s face and thought he saw the other barely breathing. For a human, he was kind of cute. Kind of handsome, actually.

“Thanks,” Day said, voice quiet.

“You’re welcome.” Mhok replied, just as quiet. He stood up, watched Day swallow, and then took a step back into the far corner of the covering.

At that exact moment, the brother stepped into the entrance. “There you are!” he exclaimed. “Mom is losing her mind. Come on. You shouldn’t run off like that.”

“I’m not five,” Day said, his sour attitude returning in full force. “I don’t need a babysitter, and I should be allowed to visit a temple without someone holding my hand and watching my every move.”

The brother let out a long suffering sigh. “We just didn’t want you tripping down the stairs. Day, please. You know you need help, and that’s all we’re trying to do.”

The tension between the brothers was thick. Mhok opened his palm and summoned their string to his palm. The knots were frayed, like old shoelaces that had been tied and untied and picked at for years. If Mhok loosened even one of them, the situation might resolve peacefully… even if it didn’t fix their relationship. He looked between the two brothers, who were glaring and holding their bodies so rigid and tight.

Almost without thinking, Mhok ran two fingers over one of the knots. The fraying mended and the knot loosened. Color pulsed over the dull string, like blood returning to a vein. It was not a perfect fix, but then Mhok wasn’t looking for perfection. He just wanted to diffuse this one situation.

Both Day and the brother relaxed their shoulders, though Mhok doubted either of them really noticed. The brother sighed again, but this time it was tired sounding.

“Please just come back with me so we can try to end today on a happy note. Okay?” he asked, voice much gentler than before..

On the bench, Day ran his fingers over the edges of the bandage on his shin. After a long moment, he finally nodded and stood from the bench. His brother was over in an instant, trying to help guide Day from the area. As they stepped out into the light, Day paused and looked vaguely over his shoulder.

“Thank you, khun,” he said, and Mhok startled a little.

“Who are you talking to?” his brother asked, also glancing back into the sitting area. Unlike Day, he took no notice of Mhok in the corner.

“There was a man,” Day said, though now his brow knit in confusion again. He frowned. “Isn’t he still in there?”

His brother shook his head. “No. There’s no one else here.”

The brother let Day ponder for only a second more before ushering him away and back to their mother. In the shade of the trees, Mhok sat down on a bench and watched them leave. For the first time in forever, someone had talked to him. Sure the conversation had been mostly rude or sassy, but somehow it still felt monumental. More than that, Day had turned back to thank him again. He hadn’t forgotten Mhok existed as soon as their conversation was over.

Was it because he was blind and he had noticed Mhok by smell and not by sight? Most people’s minds were easily distracted by light and sound, and they quickly forgot if they saw something supernatural. They explained away whatever they saw or heard. But Day had not. Not yet, anyway. It had to be because of his eyes. He had noticed Mhok even when Mhok was trying to go unnoticed.

The sprite smiled. Well, then. That chance encounter had turned out to be the most interesting human interaction Mhok had experienced in over forty years. How was he meant to ignore that?

[vaalthus]

The Final Steps (spoilers)

Ok, the idea of Xan looking towards Warlic as a protective buffer to keep things that are making him uncomfortable away from him is absolutely hilarious.

Ya see I still don't like the sound of that while we don't know what the intent of the other Magesters, beyond Ostromir and Vseslava, are at the moment, even with the knowledge that many of them will be dead in a short amount of time.

One thing I have noticed so far is that Zvezdana has shown consistent interest in us as a means of studying new applications and effects of magic that are not readily present in the Azaveyran continent. She mentions she doesn't have us all figured to the degree that she wishes but so far she has at least shown a good amount of insight of understanding where we stand in terms of morals and ethics, I'd say that goes for more characters in party than just the hero. What I'm getting at here it seems pretty clear for now at least that our relationship is little more than useful data collection to her.

Beyond that though I'm curious as to what these new approved pursuits the Shapeless intends to endeavor because I foresee problems arising if they found a new interests in Doom or recreating Alexander's...condition.

Hmm perhaps we should have conscripted some elves or werewolves for this fight or maybe Nikki at least.

Either way, this is some good lore on the elemental affinity a soul produces on its own or when the body is altered significantly. We already knew of course that the human body contains minute traces of all the prime elements within it, but, as anticipated, this quest just proved these elements do not exist equally within every human being on Lore, even those that have not been pushed so far into one elemental direction like Xan or Sepulchure.

Feel like the easiest way to have tested this is by having another dragonlord and their dragon in attendance since we know the others are capable of swapping the elements of their dragons as needed. Though I wouldn't be too surprised if being one of the twin dragons was all it took for Draco to be protected from the overflow of mana.

Oh what gave it away Zvezdana, my non-canonical class armor?

Not appreciating the shade thrown towards Aegis. He's a good pure and wholesome spirit, woman!

It's actually kind of funny that Aegis is protecting our soul from straining apart given that's what his role will theoretically become when we die and he'll have to protect us until we become fully fledged elemental spirits...ya know unless ya eat him later...

I wonder if this adjustment will have any permanent effect on Alteon considering he's being pushed further towards the energy element or if this will be a temporary change, like the soul self-regulating afterwards.

At first I was a little bit surprised that she no longer labeled all of us as villians that just couldn't or didn't want to see the good she was trying to do especially after she declared Warlic as little more than a manipulator after their confrontation.

Yet that surprise dies away when you realize she doesn't really have a choice but to recognize that our intent was never really all that misguided to begin with. Think about it, her truest closest confidant, the time mirror, showed her that Akanthus, her right-hand man, had betrayed her trust and when she confronted him on this, he merely verified that fact. When confronted with this information what other choice does she really have but to accept that she was being in denial of our motivations in not trusting her actions or at least the man she was allowing to command a good portion of the Rose.

Of course, it doesn't matter if she finally sees the truth about us as she's sunken too much into this plan to turn back now even though she knows her only ally now is a man that could potentially wreak havoc upon all of Lore if, and let's be honest it's more of a when, she fails to supplant the Mana Core's will.

For all intents and purposes, Jaania story still remains a tragedy and while I don't want her dead, the potential for so many ends for her are not looking good. Whether it be in failing to control the core, further betrayal from Akanthus, or us, or even plausibly one of the others in the party, looking at you Zvezdana.

[wall-legion]

The Very True and Not Made Up History of Oskar Garoldsen

"-too bland? Should I go with legacy instead?" The author he had hired rolled her eyes. "Mister Garoldsen-" "Oskar, darling." "Oskar. We should worry about the life story first and then the title." "Doesn't every good story start with a solid hook?" He grinned at the human woman, and since she gave no resistance other than a sigh he began in earnest. "I was born at Twinspur Haven. My mother was a baker there with my grandmother, but she had no idea who my father was. She had a habit of letting handsome adventurers sneak into the house after Grandmother fell asleep and letting them 'warm up by the fire' as she would tell Grandmother. She couldn't possibly remember which of them could possibly have been the father, so she just gave me the name of the most handsome one: Garoldsen." "Have you ever met him? Garold?" Oskar bellowed out a laugh before he adjusted how he was lounging on his couch. "Darling, that's like asking you to find a Jane or a Peter in Divinity's Reach. If his legend was worth telling, it's never reached my ears." "I see." She turned her head as Oskar uncrossed his legs, making no effort to correct his robe falling open slightly. "And your childhood?" "Markedly uninteresting. My mother had me too young so Grandmother did most of the mothering until she died. Mother still didn't know what to do with me, so she reached out to her brother who had moved to Hoelbrak to arrange for me to live with him and learn a trade." Oskar sniffed. "It also conveniently worked out that I would be out of the way for her to get married and start a family without any past baggage." He watched for a reaction from her, but seeing none he went on. "I was 11 or 12 when I went to live with Uncle Skarde. He was more Grandmother's get: stern, hardworking, dull. He bought and sold ore from miners to the smiths, and wanted to teach me the trade." She looked up from her notes, realizing that he'd paused. He was looking out the window with his chin resting on one fist. From what she knew of the man, she would hesitate to call his expression pensive, but it was passing close to it. "And?" Oskar chuckled, looking at a ring on the hand his chin had just sat on. "I was certainly grateful for the opportunity to live in Hoelbrak, but that was about it. I was a lad with awakening appetites, and the last thing my mind was on was inventories and market values. He did his best for a while, but it was to come to an end." "How do you mean?" "I had been dallying with a variety of partners since I turned 14. Skarde had an idea that I was up to something but could never catch me at it." He smiled suddenly, but it looked less than reassuring. "One night when I was 17, I was caught with the wrong person and had to get out of the city quickly. I knew of the asura gate, and I took it. Found myself here naked as the day I was born." "Who was the wrong person?" "Someone I'm not willing to commit to print, love," he said, too quickly, and she knew he meant it as he continued. "I tested my luck here for the next two days, getting what I needed where I could, before I ran into my patron." Oskar smiled again, but this time it was fonder. "He and his dear wife Elisabeth had an understanding that allowed Charles to hire me at his mercantile shop as an assistant. It also permitted me to help Charles with other needs that he had, ones that Elisabeth could not. Although sometimes she did join in on the fun to keep things fresh in their marriage." He chuckled. "You're blushing, pet. Do most humans not keep with threesomes?" "I wouldn't know," she finally stammered. "Let's get back to you, please." He shrugged. "Charles passed in 1326, spirits keep him. Elisabeth gave me a final payment that was bequeathed from him, and that's how I financed the Bayside Boutique." "And your association to the Shark-" "No." He reached over, gently pulling down the journal she was writing in. "I don't know what you've heard or seen, but I have no association with her. Definitely nothing that goes in this book. Do you understand?" "Yes sir," she answered very quietly.

[spw-art]

If you have OCs... could you perhaps make a masterpost-link thing with them that I could save up to check them out/save to go back to if I forget anything on them? (Bonus points if u have potp/dragon ocs smiles)

ALSO your art slaps hell yeah 💪

Looks at you with big wet eyes. My tag #my oc should have all of em.

POTP is a universe in which I feel like it’s both difficult and impractical to make an oc for unless they exist before or after the story.

I fucking love dragons I haven’t drawn any dragons in so long. Besides Pokémon dragons.

And now I’ll see if I can remember all the tags of all my ocs. Or at least the main ones.

All of the links will just lead to their tag.

Harte Sekioka - Pokemon breeder and ex-magma admin from an amino roleplay that took place in 2017. Currently he’s used in a roleplay with friends because I didn’t want to make a new character for it. Just went ahead and decided he’s 20 years older now. Self-proclaimed sexmaster. Annoying. Single father of two. Should not be a father.

Claudia - A Ditto masquerading as a human from Harte’s universe. She’s helped him out with speeding up the process of selective Pokémon breeding. She’s also extremely important to Harte’s universe’s Team Magma.

Sif Saph - My BG3 character, I haven’t been able to play BG3 in forever. Not much info on him besides he’s the cousin of my first ever D&D character, Sif Krymsul. And he has blue dragon ancestry on his father’s side. Really really really hoping to draw him more I miss him so much.

Divo Success - Pokémon oc. He’s the platonic idea of a cowboy the same way The Stanley Parable’s Narrator is the platonic ideal of divorce. He hasn’t even seen a cow in his life. But he does have a gigantic horse that everyone is afraid of for her Stamina Iron Defense Body Press swagger. He has weird fucking abilities that allow him to be a western movie character. Every time he rides away on his horse it’s into the sunset. No matter what time of day it is. He can always appear in a cloud of dust or smoke. He operates entirely on rule of cool.

Daylight Under Outsmouth - A Call Of Cthulhu campaign that unfortunately never came to fruition. It’s about a universe being consumed by an oppressive darkness with the center of its terror being Earth. Things keep getting darker. Stars disappear from the sky. Aliens and extradimensional creatures find their way to earth as refugees. I reaaally want to make a comic or something with the story.

Aoife and Padraig - Characters made for my friend’s series called Analog Files. They’re the same person from different worlds. They’re married. They’re fucking weird. Aoife is dying of Cool Guy Cancer that’s turning her into a bug and then into a pile of flesh. She wants to be studied while she dies. Padraig loves studying her. They’re great.

Legally Distinct - A glam metal band made up of monsters from Universal Monster movies. I had made them for Art Fight, they’re quite silly, they have so much sex and do so much drugs. And rock n roll of course.

Nigellians - A type of creature made of music, glamor, passion, and magic. They’re born of human creation. Think of Eddie the Head if he was less powerful and less aggressive and more of a little fairy spirit.

Herb - An utau made by my friend NyxQuentiam who is voiced by me. I need to record a new voice bank so badly. He’s an artificial angel who harvests energy from other angels by killing and blending them. He then goes to the angel black market to turn mortals into angels: a high he should not be doing. But whatever, he’s having a good time.

Ward - Cringefail rich boy accidental racist fire genasi who sucks. Used him in a D&D campaign until it fizzled out due to the DM being weird. I don’t think I have much stuff with him here (I think it’s just one post) but he’s my beloved little shitstain. His sword is incredibly blunt. It does bludgeoning damage. He’s whining the entire time he’s adventuring.

Those are the main guys. Hope that helps! :)

Always feel free to ask more questions! Yippee yahoo yippeeeee

[commanders-company]

BIO - RUNA WYRMSDOTTIR

Norn | Warrior/Revenant | Disciple of Bear

Runa was orphaned in her early teens in a Svanir raid on one of the many settlements in the Shiverpeaks. Rather than remain amongst her people, she fled to the south, eventually finding her way into a small street gang in Lion’s Arch.

Years passed, and she thought she had made a decent home for herself - as much as one can amongst thieves and looters. However, fate came in an unlikely form: late one night, they attempted to mug an old charr visiting the port, only for the retired warrior to soundly wipe the floor with them. But rather than turn them into the Lionguard - or simply kill them - the charr instead made them an offer: meet him in the arena and “learn to fight for something more than a handful of copper for tomorrow’s meal.”

Runa’s compatriots never seriously considered the offer, but something inside her stirred - perhaps the last bit of Norn pride she had left from her youth in the mountains. She joined the charr, a retired Blood legion soldier named Bretak Ironfist, and through months and years he taught her everything he knew, turning her into a formidable warrior who eventually caught the eye of the Vigil. Years later, Runa would rise to be the Commander of the newly formed Pact under Trahearne. When she asked Bretak to join as her second, he refused, saying it was her legend to unfold, and his time had come and gone long ago.

Runa successfully led the Pact against Zhaitan, helped coordinate the retaking of Lion’s Arch from Scarlet Briar, quickly mobilized their forces to prepare an assault on Mordremoth deep in the jungle…to disastrous results that none could have predicted. For weeks after the fleet fell, she found herself plagued by the same dream: the stranded forces surrounded by deadly vines, until a small, bright flower - shielded by the body of a fallen bear - grew into a mighty tree, breaking through the canopy to allow light to burn away the Mordrem growth. A norn shaman with the fleet said he was convinced this was a prophecy from the Spirits of the Wild - the first time she had ever felt any connection to them since childhood - and when she met Feyn for the first time in a makeshift camp deep in the jungle, she instantly knew this sylvari was the “flower” destined to save them all.

Runa took Feyn, Bato and Gheli aside privately and told them the secrets they had learned while investigating Scarlet’s motivations - specifically Glint’s egg they had lost to Caithe. She asked them to work with her new companions (Marjorie, Taimi and the gang) to track down the egg and ensure it stayed safe, leading to it being safely secreted away in Tarir. Later on, she and Feyn took on a scouting mission deep into the tangled depths of root and cave, where they were ambushed and Runa was severely injured. Feyn did her best to help, but Runa refused, knowing this was her prophesied fate. She entrusted Feyn with her Pact sigil, telling her of the vision and trusting the fate of the Pact - of all of Tyria - to her. Firing a flare to distract the approaching Mordrem, she commanded Feyn to run and took her final stand.

The rest, as they say, is history: Feyn took up the mantle of Pact Commander and slew Mordremoth, nurtured the dragon egg and raised the hatchling which would become Aurene, and even faced down the humans’ god of war himself. All the while the story of the First Commander was told and retold, a legend among legends to be passed down in memory of a hero.

And then, two years after she died, Runa awoke in the desert.

As Kralkatorrik tore through the Mists in the wake of Balthazar’s demise, Runa’s soul was wrenched from its rest, finding new life in the wastes of Elona. Though she had no memory of who she was beyond her name, she was quickly taken in by locals who nursed her to health - and gave her cause to fight with her new mist-fueled powers as a Revenant.

When word spread of the Pact’s fight to take down the crystal dragon, Runa’s memories began to resurface, prompting her to begin the long journey back to Tyria. When she returned to the Shiverpeaks, she met with the shamans who helped her understand who she once was - but that person felt foreign to her. Left without a clear path, she resorted to wandering the north, making a solitary living in the wild far away from other settlements.

Her path crossed with Feyn once again as the sylvari and her company ventured north in pursuit of Bangar, where she helped them slay the Boneskinner. Reuniting returned more of Runa’s old memories, and prompted her to aid in the fight against Jormag, Primordus, and the Frost Legion.

But as that crisis resolved, she once again felt lost. The old Runa was no longer needed; Feyn’s legend had long since surpassed her own, and she no longer felt any true connection to the Pact regardless. But her solitude would be cut short by an unexpected invitation: the secretive Astral Ward had need of her strength and what knowledge of the Mists she had left.

Here Runa at last found a permanent home, questing from one end of the world to the other, protecting the innocent as a simple, faceless warrior, here one day and gone the next. Though the threat of the Kryptis brings her a bit too close to the world-saving limelight than she’d like, she is glad to have a true purpose once again.

[senatushq]

“Just as still waters turn foul, stagnation leads to decay. Warriors must remain ever drifting.” - Abelas

The plan was simple: Create an opening and take advantage. That so much could have gone wrong, for so many people, wasn’t something that anyone could have predicted. Vivianne would come to blame herself, Bastien would scream and curse at the Graeae; both would ask them once and for all: why?

This is how it began. 

Day 1

It started with Ganymede, jolly as ever, waltzing through the battlefield. The fighting ceased in his presence as he strode up to the gates of Dis. The necromanced giants were kind enough to let him pass as a very pleasant parade of necromeras escorted him through the burning city until he reached the base of Dis. While the Asphodel had heard of his approach, they prepared and laid a trap. Once sprung, a seraph blade pierced Ganymede's shoulder, ouchie, and bound his magic and his power. Pythia then took that opportunity to kill him personally. Death rejected him however, so a seraph blade was embedded into his chest and he was tossed into a river of lava to burn eternally.

Within the Otherworld the allied senate forces gathered: witches, vampires, druids, and humans from around the world had flocked under the banner of this united front. Magisters of the vampire order had gathered, Juno appeared alongside the two magisters that she had blessed, Mars' still living magister presented herself as well; alongside Harlow the second magister of the Venus appeared but the original herself and Mars were both absent. Elsewhere the magisters Pluto had appointed long ago were not present but in the halls of Necromanteion he lingered. Joining them were the marshals of the European monarchy and envoys from around the world. Sovereigns with their strongest witches flocked to Rome, The Ivy's pack & coven gathered together in unison, and what keepers remained of the druids made the pilgrimage to Rome with the acolytes under their charges.

The New City of Dis had been protected from view for a long time, but the greater its infernal powers grew, the more difficult it was for it to remain hidden. Trivia first closed the many gates from the Otherworld into Rome, she created a new one at the Pyramid of Cestius so that the Allied Senate Forces could strategically hold it. Trivia then lent her considerable magic to the Ivy Coven, though it weakened and mortalized her in the process. From Ivy Tower within Rome, the bulk of the coven worked remotely as they supported the Allied Forces from a distance. Formidable in strength, the Otherworld itself was a threat to the senate’s forces, but Trivia’s magic allowed them to manipulate it and lift the miasma that concealed the dark city from detection.  

Handmade waxen candles were lit by an ethereal blue flame, cool to the touch. The secret process of their creation was invented by the first Narcissus sovereign from the coven’s founding during the Renaissance, each was carefully handmade by a member of their coven. Previously they had appeared at the vigil to Erik Alstroemeria, the candles drew from the power of spirits and demons alike on both sides of the veil. These candles littered the many tombs of Rome, the ruins, the graveyards, and hung about the battlefield. Tethered to the chanting of the Narcissus Coven, their sovereign Kaan, the adept Raffaele, and the watcher Efigenia alongside her familiar were either otherwise preoccupied or missing. Those that remained channelled alongside the unassigned members of the Amaranthus Coven, and the barrier was erected around the encampments of the Allied Senate Forces. In so doing, the demons subjugated or made to fight by the Asphodel would be targeted and made weaker.

Within the senate’s encampment in The Otherworld, the gateway to Rome was at their backs. Safe within the Allied Senate Force's base, they stood between the City of Dis and the city of Rome. To test the boundaries of Dis, a barrage of magically imbued projectiles fell across the barrier that protected it: warmachines designed by The Eye in conjunction with the Amaranthus Coven were to be rolled towards the city to bring down the barrier that was protecting it. Above, Uriel and Azrael attempted to enter New Dis, however even with their energy manipulation they were unable to break through. 

Deep marshes surrounded New Dis, thick muck of Otherworldly swamp that was enchanted to ensnare those who wandered too deep or too far. One wrong step and it would consume even the most seasoned of soldiers; the warmachines constructed by The Eye would have to roll through this terrain and survive, while there were several, the only ones that would make it would be from those who were headed by the following squad captains: Eren, Ayla, Dionaeia, and Aren.

About the dark forest and through the marsh, berserker squads moved to flank the City of New Dis while support from the reinforcement squads came to the assault squads from both the rear and from above as they fought they would be made to fight their way forward. The forces of New Dis would not make it easy, from below the feet of the troops, the bones of all who’d been lost within the Otherworld over the many years reached out, they crawled from their watery grave, and wielded weapons and enchantments of all kinds. Avery wove a spell similar to what had been cast at the previous Halloween, since Death was still cancelled their goal was to bury those who crept towards the ground as a means of incapacitating them. Those who were lost would be dragged through the earth of the Otherworld, down unfathomable depths and into the waiting blood prisons of Necromanteion. Tepiltzin's death magic worked over these corpses and imbued them with a plague; zombies sank their teeth into any they could grab as they slowly emerged from the bog. Their goal was to infect and to turn the Allied Senate Forces against one another. Those who were bitten required immediate medical treatment at camp, or they would be forever changed.  

Rolling the autonomous machines forward, the machinations groaned through the mud and the waist-deep waters of the swamp. Artillerists from the walls of New Dis took up their position as infernal weapons rained hell upon the forces within the forest. Preliminary defences were conjured from a distance: August’s necromeras that were resurrected from the Isle of the Blessed within Elysium and then subjugated, necrotic slime that oozed from barren trees and ensnared anyone that came into contact with it. Over the Allied Senate Forces, Abyssal creatures rained down upon them, they crawled from the muck, and poured through the barrier. A third of the senate’s forces had been taken already, pulled away from the battlefield or wandered off in the dead of night. Atop the walls of the City of New Dis hellfire and projectiles fell upon the advancing troops’ forces as chaos spread across the forest. From August’s twisted experiments, monsters of abominable origins surged from the city: the bloodstarved beasts, nezars, hemophages, carnexes, and stitched together animals like the lump of swine all meant to weaken and debilitate. Additionally, those who were pulled into the mud were gone for good, and those infected by August's symbiote were irreversibly changed. Bastien’s sight directed the assault, prolific mastery of his oracular abilities gave those he worked with the insight to know where to focus their attacks for maximum efficiency. Before the first day was done, Esme and Dante were both sucked into the swamp, they were not seen again outside of the Asphodel's blood prison.

Night 1

At dusk of the first day, the flowers of the pharmakis all wilted, died, and were no longer usable.

Dug into the marsh, the Allied Senate Forces made camp as the forces of New Dis swelled at the walls. Vivianne alongside the Dahlia secured the boundary from necromanced forces as they married the schools of restoration and destruction to prevent the creatures from coming any further. Further aided by The Eye's capacity to erect barriers of raw energy, no force would be able to break in. Through the night they kept up their vigil as the troupes took stock of the ground that they had gained while the healers tended to the injured and those that had expelled their pools of magic recovered. 

It was just on the other side of the Pyramid’s gate that the infirmary camp and medical base had been set up by the Allied Senate Forces. Within the encampment Nettelia’s magic alongside those who were part of her support team kept the infirmed safe. Her golems patrolled the perimeter, enriched with her magic, they would restrain and debilitate rather than kill any potential threats or intruders. Those the golems restrained would be left with just enough life force that they would not be brought back by Death's spontaneous resurrection, instead they would be powerless to attack any further. The golems were living serpents of air, dragons of earth, beasts of fire, and animals of captured lightning or water. 

Epimetheus’ creatures remained close at hand, not to fight but because he didn’t want them caught up in all this. He had them helping out with first aid, doing what their little animal hands could do to bandage and apply pressure while Nettelia conserved her magic. Every so often he tried to sneak out to fight but a golem would drag him back by the scruff of his neck. Isabella was already a healer who needed no instruction, but Zoey was also a vampire; it would be second nature for a vampire to use their blood to heal someone, but not knowing how long this battle would go on they were both told to conserve it and perform aid whenever possible by other means. Still a novice, Rowan’s magic was rudimentary but he did what he could to help those that came in from the field. A healer and capable scryer, Gabriel worked in conjunction with support teams to recover people from the field and bring them safely to the Pyramid if they couldn't do so themselves.

Zagreus mimicked Nettelia and after over a month of practice he learned to use some of her transference to heal injuries without endangering his own life. Isla, Sanem, and Renfield were medically trained but their priority was offering support via The Eye’s technologies. The careful diagnosis of curses, the application of removing them, how to administer cutting edge inoculations to counteract effects or heal injuries entirely. It was their role to coordinate medical support units, and aid those who came back wounded.

Below, The Eye’s secret base of operations had been built under the encampment as Ephraim, Sabina, and Sanem stayed in contact with the troops and coordinated from beneath the medical encampment. Connected to The Eye’s technology, Sabina’s power was extended to every member of the Allied Senate Forces. Ephraim coordinated with the ground troops, and directed them into position as he gathered the information collected from the support troops and autonomously synched it through his neural implants from The Eye. Linked through memory projection, Sabina relayed the fall of the first two squads and those responsible, as well as the necessary supports that were needed across the battlefield. Those that were injured, those that were in need of saving, and those that the supporting members of the forces would need to help. Marco cooked up a storm, he used his chef skills to restore the magic and strength of those that came rolling in from the field. 

Lightning struck Rowan while he was out for a smoke break and it killed him instantly, though he got up again a short while later: rejected by Death. 

Day 1

Within the New City of Dis the necromancers were well prepared. While the generals had not yet entered the fray, there were a series of traps placed and enchantments ready that waited to ensnare the Allied Senate Forces. From Necromanteion’s summit, the Necronomicon lay open as Levent, Bastien, August, Lucretia, Kaan, Yurena, and Tepiltzin conducted their dark ritual while Pythia led  them through the spell. As far underground as the tower was high, in the bowels of necromanteion, Efigenia, Harellan, and Avery worked independently from the others with a group of blood witches, their familiars not far away. Within the tower, Enfenim, Nashoba, and Arakhor monitored for potential intruders. The necromancers at the summit had gathered the blood of The First; The Golden Seal that had built the Inferno and locked its gates tightly shut, and with the power that they had amassed they aimed to pull it down. 

Night 1

Kaan’s information was sound and his wards had been placed; within Rome Michael, Keket, Octavian, Tisiphone, Eoin, Hazal, Nathan, Emory, and Evy gathered to head straight into the heart of Necromanteion. Once within they would interrupt the necromancers’ ritual, take them by surprise, and destroy the book in the process. With Kaan’s blood the door was made active and Nathan was able to use his ability to open the gate, however instead of bringing them to Necromanteion’s summit like they’d been told, the nine of them were at the tower’s lowest level. It was too late to go back now, and again with the cambion’s ability Nathan masked their presence, an effect that he could sustain so long as they remained within close proximity. Otherwise the many infernal denizens of New Dis would fall upon them in an instant. 

Through the tower the nine wandered, Michael and Tisiphone took the lead as Keket used her magic to alert them if anyone was approaching. The seraphim dispatched each with ease, a quick blade through the chest and the demon, abyssal entity, or necromancer was quickly incapacitated as Emory, Nathan, Eoin, or Hazal sealed them away. Death was still rejecting everyone, the most effecting means of ensuring they wouldn't rise again was to pin them with a seraph blade and magically bind them.

Even from within Necromanteion they heard  the battle outside the walls, they felt the city quake as the magical assault struck the boundaries over and over again. This should have been over already and if Kaan’s information was accurate then the ritual would be nearly complete. The team moved efficiently up the tower but it was a great distance to climb, and they were expected. An abominable cold crept across the stones, and climbed its way over the flaming tomb that was Dis; the team felt a chill creep into the very core of their being and Octavian burned through it in an instant, restless and eager to get the book for himself as he pushed onward, though he burned through Nathan’s magic in the process. Octavian was pursued by the rest of the group, Enfenim and Arakhor’s distraction was successful. Before anyone could see what had happened Nathan had gone missing and would not be seen again outside of the Asphodel's Blood Prison. Immediately exposed, the many Abyssal denizens of New Dis sensed the intrusion and flocked towards the tower. 

Octavian, Tisiphone, and Michael rushed forward and throttled the chambers’ defences; those that guarded the door were sent flying and were left to be dealt with by Keket, Emory, Hazal, Evy, and Eoin. A pair of cold hands landed on the shoulders of Octavian and and Michael as a woman, Lilith, suddenly stood between them. Completely undetectable and truly invisible, she’d been following them since Rome; she had taken some amusement in how they bumbled their way through the dark, but this was as far as their plan went. A single word fell from Lilith’s lips: Sleep. She'd placed a hand one either shoulder and the two men collapsed onto the ground and Lilith, completely shrouded once again, stepped off to the side. She laughed because she couldn’t help herself, then said another word that was echoed by the creatures that defended the room and all those within: Keket. 

Kaan, aware that things were going sidewise, grew desperate as Tisiphone flung open the doors: she was the senate’s last current hope of destroying the Necronomicon once and for all. Pythia spared Kaan a single glance, and his limbs were quickly bound. Painfully contorted with his magic shielded from use, when he looked up he saw Raffaele and Jian bound in chains. Tepiltzin’s hand raised towards the traitor as the liche held the witch in place. Tisiphone lunged but was alone and deflected with ease: she was too late, they were all too late, the ritual was interrupted but the Asphodel was not stopped. August looked to Emory and tutted, the latter had signed a contract, with a snap of his fingers Emma crumpled to the ground on the battlefield. Dead. She’d died long before Death had started cancelling people, a convenient loophole. The Allied Senate Forces were each shielded from using their power before they were almost all sent to the Asphodel’s prison far below. They could not die but there were fates far worse than death.

Tisiphone and Keket remained, the latter’s blood was too precious to be tossed into a cage with the rest of the rabble, and Tisiphone would be made to witness what would happen next. Immortal and undying, Keket was dragged towards the necronomicon to be strung up and drained. None, however, were more familiar with the former hollowborn’s weaknesses than she: Keket was incapable of attacking them in her current state but she had planned ahead and set radial bombs to detonate. Invisible to the naked eye, they had floated into the room the moment the doors had opened. They exploded in great bursts of light, Keket used the distraction and wrangled free before she ran and flung herself from the tower.  

Order was quickly restored, the others were not able to escape. Kaan had betrayed the necronomicon and since he wanted out, Pythia gave him a choice. August and Lucretia stood on either side of the sacrifices, if The Sacrifice wished to leave, then he had to kill his heart to undo the contract he’d made with the necronomicon. Kaan refused and both Jian and Raffaele were butchered and fed to the book, their flesh and souls consumed, alive but in the worst sense of the word.  

The ritual to open the Gates to the Inferno would need to begin again, but they did not require everyone's efforts to open the Gates to the Inferno, once Efigenia and Avery had completed their task, this would be their next missie. For now, the necromancers at Necromanteion's summit would focus on the forces that scratched at their hills. A seraph blade embedded within Octavian prevented him from the use of any power, Lucretia looked at her father’s state with grim satisfaction and with the help of the necronomicon she stole his druidic blessing from him entirely and left the perfect phoenix as nothing more than a mortal man. His power was now her own, now when the dragon breathed it would expel the phoenix's coveted flame. Pluto emerged from the shadows, he had watched the entirety of the conflict as unseen as Lilith, loyal to Kore and therefore loyal to the Asphodel. They were followers of Persephone and therefore he was incapable of harming them even if he wanted to.

Beneath them, in Necromanteion’s lowest levels, Efigenia and Avery stitched together sinew and restored the remains of one that had been long dead. Harellan worked over the matter of the mind, the powers of all three enhanced by the power of the necronomicon. Upon a slab of stone, an altar to the dark, the body of the dead spartoi Cthonius had been restored. When they were concluded, Harellan returned to Rome to take up their position within the city in 'defence' of Mutat Domun. The pair of necromancers that remained channelled power from the Necronomicon at the Nectomanteion's summit, all the way down to its Abyssal depths, all to break open the seals that held the Inferno shut.

All through the night the Asphodel assaulted the barriers that protected the Allied Senate Forces. While nothing could physically get in, darklings screamed into the mind's eye of the troops. Some shrieked and fled into the night, outside the boundary where the pitch black dark of the Otherworld consumed them; never to be seen again. Dreams were also easily invaded, Bastien walked amidst them and weathered their spirits as he sewed the foretelling of their imminent doom into their subconscious. A fog crept into the encampment, it spilled nearly unseen from the blue candles that channelled the spirits and demons around them. Tepiltzin's will and death magic curved its way like a serpent into the throats and minds of those within. Quickly members of the Allied Senate were possessed as the puppeteer tore through the encampment before the bodies could be restrained and exorcised.

Overhead the Allied Senate Forces were denied any rest, Lucretia's flames beat down upon the boundary and tore apart the magic that held it together. Fortunately, The Eye's fields compensated long enough for the witches' barrier to recover but not before Uriel and Azrael were able to slip inside to try to leverage the Allied Senate Forces' position to aid their goal of getting into the City of New Dis, unseen, Pluto moved in behind them; he had allies on all sides. Wrenched from the Isle of the Blessed, Thetis walked once more, and pulled from the ninth circle, Silas had been resurrected. Necromanced by August, the pair of ghouls and so many others were feral, possessed of monstrous strength, bloodthirsty, and loyal to his commands. They screamed through the fog for Eren and Vivianne.

While these monsters and spells tormented the Allied Senate Forces, they did not last, the Ivy from their remote location would dispel the magic sometime after it was conjured. However, after a short period fresh necromantic spells would replace them. As the necromancers worked over the summit into the night, Yurena and Levent retired to conserve their strength. They urged the others to do the same but the Necronomicon gave them all the strength and stamina they would ever need. This fight was not what either had signed on for. Kaan, broken and bound, was spirited away to safety in the dead of night.

Day 2

The siege would continue through the following day, the warmachines would push forward, though Lucretia retreated from the skies and rejoined the others at Necromanteion's summit.

Day 2

Above the court of drow the sky had darkened to pitch, the furious sound of beating wings was deafening. Somniar had located and subjugated each of the broodmothers on this side of the Otherworld, the stymphalian that served them now served him as they swarmed. In the sky over the court Somniar unveiled his pride and joy, a brainstealer dragon. Elsewhere mindflayers, and gnome ceremorphs patrolled the streets alongside the mindwitness, mozgriken, tzakandi, uchuulon, and the urophion. Somniar monitored everything under the protection of his brain golems, and nyraala golems. Intellect devourers patrolled the outskirts of his lair, while a great number of his cranium rats gathered within the catacombs of Rome, prepared to strike. Flanked by the oblexes he had created, there were a few stationed within the catacombs ready to greet those that wandered within. Into the midst of the Roman fray, Rhovanor was sent out in the hopes that he might be able to weaken the opposing forces or prove himself in some way; the flayed’s directive was clearly made to him that if he did so then he would be rewarded.  

In the sanctity of Lloth’s high temple, Nyloth and her fellow members of the priesthood began their dark sacrament to The Weaver. Her most favoured, Nyloth’s devotion was unparalleled as she made her ask of the dark, with her ring of eternal night she held the moon in her hands and had the power to blot out the sun itself. Under its harsh rays the drow were without any strength, Rome believed they were safe during the day, they were wrong.

Within the lair of the brilliant artificer, Severon had worked tirelessly for months to perfect his autonomous design. The product of centuries of research and innovation, they were what his efforts would at last yield. His aim was to unlock the secrets of the soul, to create true life where otherwise there had been none. The Gods had a device that they could power for such things, the seraphim were their proof of that, souls that were made for a purpose: to serve. Adatiel had provided him with the blueprint, within the confines of her cell she’d been drawn out time and time again as he tested her and scanned the grace that lurked beneath the surface of her being. While that was something that he could not touch, it was what manipulated the force that was of interest to him: her soul. With the completion of his own machine that would craft a soul from the power Felandaris' towers provided, his mission was at last complete; the army of drow mech marched forth, aided by a trio of his most prized creations: the wormcoil engines. Because of the nuisance of cancelled death, a third autonomous being had been made, one specially skilled in binding to its target and constricting them indefinitely: metal slime (patent pending).

Faerinaal prepared the drow’s military forces, once again they would go to battle and once again their conquest would be a success. This was a familiar path for the drow, but one that he took to with ease and resolve. Intelligence from the Inquisitor supported that the Fairy King had taken the bait and would meet them in Rome as their chosen field of battle. The drow knew that Meryasek harnessed a new power, and that his forces had grown slightly because of his people's recent expeditions, but it was a small matter. Soratami airships, tech, and automatons supported Faerinaal’s troops alongside all those that the drow had conquested over the years. So, with gleeful anticipation, the Founder waited for the Queen of the Drow to order the assault. 

Within the Dark beneath the Court of Drow, Amadeus gathered his creatures from the shadows. Subjugated beasts that had not been tamed in the manner that Somniar was known for, but tamed in the manner that subservience demanded. Loyal dogs in the form of goblins, akephaloi, hellhounds, kelpies, satyrs, pixies, wyverns, ursas, eldritch changelings, pegasi, and more. Brought under his control they were his to command. The beastmaster and master of the Dark, Amadeus emerged riding on the back of a wyrm of fire: an ancient beast the drow had unearthed and tamed during his recent expeditions. 

Great gates had been constructed about the city, eight in total with thirteen towers that encompassed the court of drow. Built from the powerful stone that the court sat upon, these Otherworldly towers were of a superior design meant to distil the magic of the stars above and the paragons below. Felandaris gathered their strength alongside the sorcerers that he commanded, a fraction of the drow’s fighting forces had been brought alongside Ayi'ig, but the long game would at last come to fruition. Each of their great cities within the Underdark had these gates constructed and each were powered autonomously as the energy was gathered to do so. While the soratami conquest had not yielded much to him, they had helped resolve the issue of sustaining the gates so that lesser enchanters might also use them. The gates opened, and the hordes of drow: ogres, goblins, cyclops, trolls, and all manner of creatures from the Underdark joined them. In gleeful anticipation, Felandaris met Queen Ayi’ig as she departed the castle to join her great army. 

Riding on the back of Nidhogg and accompanied by The Executioner and Felandaris, Queen Ayi’ig appeared in full battle regalia. Had Meryasek simply turned himself over to her, then the fey as a whole would have been left alone and this would not have come to pass. The theft of Aegnor and the drow hunts that had occurred at the hands of eladrins however would not be tolerated. The fey’s sloppy work was the most egregious of crimes under the teachings of Lloth. This court was the home of the drow now and with the subjugation of the eladrins their empire would finally be complete. 

A marvel of soratami engineering, above Rome the flying city appeared, blotting out the sky entirely as the siege began.

Day 2

Aware that Rome would be where the Drow would attack, the fey prepared to meet them on this chosen field of battle. 

Amidst Spring’s gardens the proto-ambrosia, Zahrya’s blood fruits, had come to fruition. Changelings feasted on them alongside the common-blooded eladrins to bolster their power, even if only temporarily. Creatures of the feywild grew exponentially in strength as the youth of the courts were sequestered away under the watchful eye of the spring chancellor’s guardians. Great power bloomed within each, exponential strength that was a product of nearly a year of gardening the blood of those that had been captured by the Forest’s fog. Abyssal blood magic in one of its rawest, purest forms. 

In Winter’s mountains the White Flame blazed a frigid cold. Those that had become devoted towards it led the charge in prayer as they asked Aur’il for aid in the coming war, for a frost that would never relent, and for a storm that would turn the flesh of the fey hard as stone. Aurora watched as the newly pious led the prayer, the chosen vestiges of cold, the chancellor of the longest nights did not join in as her people bit the White Flame to sweep across the mountains and tear apart any who intruded within. Harboured in the furthest depths of the mountains, the children and their guardians had been gathered: faimen, fey, and young demigods alike. Among them were changelings and those who did not wish to fight, they were prepared to help lead those to safety by following the path into the Otherworld that Logon had laid out for them. Rainer had trained some of the greatest blades the elves had ever known, out of an old and tired obligation, he lent his own to the cause of the fey once again.  

Pink clouds rolled with a dark storm, the summer fey sang a united song as a great storm stretched across the Fairy King’s Forest, New Rome, and the boundary that surrounded it. Laer’s blood tainted the sky as power rose among them: with it a relentless torrent of lightning struck the ground, ready to incinerate those that wandered too close. Columns of fire spun across the boundary of the forest, conjured flames whipped across the terrain, others of water joined, they superheated and supercooled the enchanted ground in tandem as steam rose and strengthened the clouds further. The storm grew more powerful, the lightning stronger and more frequent as it encroached upon the drow’s boundaries and began to pour across the seat of the fey’s former home. Logon alongside the rest of the summer court lingered above as the power of the court fell upon Rome; he drew his blade and descended from the clouds, prepared to join the coming fray. Joined on the ground by Revas, the two would fight side by side. 

Spores that had long taken root bloomed at long last. Fungi and rot began to eat away at the Romans and all the people within. Robin’s great gift of fall was the chancellor’s promise of vengeance against those that had been wronged for so long. First The Eye, the Senate, and then from a position of strength, the drow. Wade was the first to be consumed, Death would have been a waste, but among the former elves of dusk, rot was just a second chance at life. It ate away at his brain and replaced it with fungal subjugation as his body was transformed into a changeling of rotted decay. Antimagic coursed through his veins, but Robin’s time spying on The Eye had accounted for this, it worked against it and made the spell resistant to The Eye’s trusted counter defence. Not foolproof, however much of the city began to change. Organic life across Rome fell under the command of decay, creatures of the earth and sky were taken over and made the mindless marionettes of the puppeteer. Robin’s army of spore zombies twisted their bodies towards the assault that the Drow would lay against Rome.

Magic and transformation at her fingertips, Circe’s elven blood saw her allied to the fey. It was her intention to secure their survival, if that meant she had to lay waste to the drow and join the fight, then that was precisely what she intended to do. Magic at the ready, a stave of transformation in hand, little pigs scurried by as she made her way towards the heart of the city. There was a senseless dog there that had wandered off leash for too long, one that she intended to see collared and returned to his pen. 

Over their forges the Giants crafted the finest armaments that any of the fey had ever seen, they had constructed enough to arm the greatest warriors of the four courts, and Andruil, with armour of unparalleled design and Eilistraee’s moon sword in hand; armaments fit for the finest army emerged as the four courts were adorned in the trappings of their season. Armour of the udadrow abandoned, Aegnor and Cloud emerged leading the infantry and the lorendrow from the midst of the forest. Aegnor’s armour was made by the Giants for him specifically, the blades he was given were designed to cut through the shadows of the drow. Cloud, The Blood Knight, looked cool too I guess.

Endless hours of working the forge had brought into creation several blades that had all been given names that sounded oddly familiar to anime fans. While The Giants had never been capable of creating revenants, the secret to their invention was either lost or inaccessible to those with the power to find the knowledge for themselves. Common fey had been designated as craftsmen among the court as a force of habit, at the height of the elven empire those with the weakest measure of magic were trained under the watchful eye of dwarves, creatures who historically had very little ambient power of their own. Those with the least amount of magic among the fey were the only ones capable of working the aether into sentience. It started in a dream, Nirvaan appeared to be sleepwalking when he began, for twelve days and twelve nights the common fey worked as the Giants looked on. When Dareth and Aurora asked them what he was doing they just said “He’s on X-Games mode.” The morning before the battle began, a revenant had been created, the first since the height of the elven empire. Nirvaan called this one “samehada” but everyone else called it “shark skin” if they were lame.

Four chancellors, each marked with significant power, each with a warder of their own. Save for Zahrya, who instead had a newly-minted familiar, something he affectionately took to calling a manifest. A prototype of Theneras’ design had been uncovered within the summer fey's lab, a weapon to be used in the extreme defence of the fey that required too much power to have previously been seen as feasible. Together their songs were united, Laer drew from Tamlen’s never ending well of celestial magic as Aurora called on her newly-minted elven blood. Robin’s rot melded with Zahrya’s rebirth and the four chancellors came together as one, bodies of magic that dredged up earth, land, water, fire, ice, storms, decay, and more. Melded in aetherial power, the Diamond-like Titan rose and towered above the trees, and city overall. Far larger than any giant, a body of crystalline appearance that commanded each of the elements at will.

Three warders and a demon accompanied the great goliath: Tamlen, Alastor, Nirvaan, and Inan. Tied to their chancellors, their magic pooled, they collectively pulled from Tamlen’s infinite well of magic. Charged with power previously unknown to them, they stood ready, they were all on X-Games mode now. About the perimeter a permanent cold chilled the air, the lythari Davheira prowled in defence of the Titan and the warders closest to it. Aurora’s desire to protect the people of the city was outmatched, Laer, Robin, and Zahrya had grown contemptuous of the Romans and mortals alike. Theneras’ device, however useful, melded their thoughts and feelings together as the Titan immediately began to rampage across the city: blasts of aether burned down the streets and tore through buildings: intent to reduce all of Rome to rubble and ash until the drow arrived to present them with a new target. 

Hellfire changelings heralded the arrival of the DaemonKing Meryasek, Fey’ri of the Old Blood: those who’d bent their knee to him would be left unmarred, as promised, but those that had not would know his mad fury. Vengeance against those who’d locked his mother away, vengeance against a city that had ostracised his people: imprisoned them, bled them, and experimented on them. Also, because there was a part of him that enjoyed it, the part of him that was of Mars’ blood; that thirsted for war and violence. Conquest and conquering. The Scourge Aasimar Dareth, his lover and betrothed, was never far from his side. His Titan began to rampage and even that was more amusing than it was anything else, let it destroy everything, Meryasek no longer had a heart to care. 

Day 2

“Come and see! Come and see!”

A bellow erupted from the forest as lycans emerged from the trees, they were accompanied by changelings that were just happy to be included, Remus, and soon after Lilith was there to observe from the shadows. Those among the lycans that had feasted on the hearts of an eldritch changeling were able to consume Zahrya’s blood fruits. The chancellor’s cultivated magic sang within their veins and married the power that flowed within them. Monstrous in shape, their forms doubled. They visibly hulked in size as profane howls echoed across the city. Alek, Flora, Adamo, Serkan, and Romeo stood at the head of the great force. Many of the wayward packs had thrown in with the Lupo, the alphas held a contest, with every felled warrior the Lupo’s numbers grew, and so did their combined strength. Alek the leader of them all.

Their force was greater than any other, resistant to magic, immune to the autumn court’s spores, and bolstered by spring’s chancellor. Lightning did not strike them, the hellfire changelings avoided them, and while some of Rome were under the Fairy King’s protection, only those with personal connections to the Lupo were marked safely from the lycan incursion. War had been brewing in Rome for a long time, if there were loved ones that people didn’t want caught in the crossfire, they’d had ample time to get them out. 

As discussed, the Lupo set their sights on Labyrinth first, most of the humans were gone off to battle but it was the nervous system of the Allied Senate Forces. A hub of technology, intelligence, and power. Once within, Lain could finally integrate with their mainframe, then The Eye’s extensive network would be for the taking, and destruction. Robin's spores corrupted those within and twisted them against their own defenses as changelings cleared the path. Anarchy ensued and the Lupo struck.

Labyrinth awaited the Lupo as they tore through the androids, automated defences, and humans that had been stationed there. Remus took the form of a great Otherworldly monstrosity. Arguably the most powerful among the aspects, he tore apart the facility in a vengeful fury as he thought about how it had taken his son from him. Lilith thought he was being dramatic but she didn’t mention it and just watched, behaviour like this was why they were friends. They ripped through the lab and killed everything that came across their path. Alek at the head of the pack, the volatile alpha incensed by Zahrya’s blood fruit, led the Lupo into the midst of the laboratory. Each fanned out, the army of lycans descended through the facility as they tore through everything, spore monstrosities at their side as those unaffected were rejected by Death and brought back to be sent running at the threat of repeated butchery. Deep within the heart of The Eye’s operations were present, the central nervous system of everything that Labyrinth held dear. Lain shifted from man to wolf and connected to the mainframe as suspicion emerged from within the alpha’s mind, it echoed throughout the pack. Those that pieced it all together were the first to run, but Lain said it first out loud. “It’s a trap.” 

Rigged to explode, the formidable base filled the sky with fire as a crater was left in the Earth where Labyrinth and The Outpost had once stood. Scorched, limbs torn and strewn about, the lycans were all rejected by Death. From the ashes the lycans stood again, overhead the sun was completely eclipsed by the drow, the full moon was prematurely brought to power, and across the city the wolves that had only been bitten recently, or those who normally fled during the four nights began to turn. Howls erupted around the city as the chaotic battle intensified. Wolfish laughter emanated from the depths of the pack, the humans had fooled them, but lycans had sharper natural senses than any other by far. Across the city a fight was now underway between the fey, the drow, and the defenders of the city. They’d tear their way through and make their way to the new heart of the senate and The Eye: The Otherworld and the Pyramid of Cestius, fate was funny that way. 

Amidst the rubble Remus shook off the ashes, something like that was barely enough to leave a scratch, but his fucking jacket was RUINED. He’d already been angry before, but now he was pissed. 

Night 2

Above the senate’s prison, their latest facility housed the banshees that had wailed for the last month. Ragged voices that were turned into little more than whimpers still miraculously held the same measure of power. Soft whispers behind muzzles that, if removed, could tear the soul out of someone in an instant. Collapsed in their cells, Paloma and Chrysaor had ceased even trying to fight. Instead they laid there, catatonic as the end of the world approached and they were powerless to stop it. 

An attack from the fey and the Lupo was not unexpected, The Eye had intelligence from every corner of this city, the forest, and recently New Rome. Truthfully, save for the Titan, things were happening as predicted, even the development of magic that was resistant to their antimagic was in line with a series of probable events that had been carefully calculated. Sanem’s team had found spore traces and already worked to develop a means of countering it. Those that had not been inoculated were being quarantined across the city, their conditions could be reversed with treatment but The Eye and Rome would first need to survive the assault. 

Within the city mechanical units were deployed, those that had been vaccinated against the spores wore rebreathers to keep from being infected by a second wave. Those that had not would be injected with serums to incapacitate them. Both the soldiers on the ground and the manufactured androids and warforged were outfitted with this capability, both fixed with scanners to differentiate those that were safe from those that were not. 

Across the city war between the city’s defences were quickly overwhelmed by the Lupo, Fey, and Drow that had chosen Rome as their battleground. Forced to consolidate, the City’s Defences took up refuge within the Pyramid of Cestius as a means of holding. The Titan marched against Rome and the DaemonKing Meryasek brought hellfire to the streets of the city as the lycans carved a path from the crater that used to be Labyrinth. Overhead, the sky would remain black: threads like a spider’s silk had covered the sun and even at dawn Rome would remain blanketed in Nyloth’s dark shadow.

Blessed by the fair Fortuna, Xerxes, Giovanni, Wade, and Valentina were stationed together around the Pyramid when Wade was suddenly transformed into a mushroom zombie. Restrained, the others were much more fortunate (thanks Caio). Abel ushered in a number of witches towards the lower levels of the Pyramid, joined by Theo, Elessar, Asher, and Niko: though Niko quickly turned into a spore changeling and had to be restrained in a cage until he could be treated. Adrian, Dimitri, Cruz, Ismael, and Oliver worked together but as the spores took root, Cruz was quickly transformed into a monster. Adrian got jumpscared and pulled his head off accidentally. Death didn’t really care too much for Cruz so the hunter kept coming back, Dimitri accidentally killed him next, and then when they were all sure he’d keep reappearing the other two took a turn as well. Then they locked him up because he was a zombie. Strategically positioned to defend the entrances to the Otherworld, medical encampments were built by Nettelia’s team on either side. 

Those that could not or did not wish to fight had been evacuated to a safehouse in the countryside under the guidance of Vivianne and the Dahlia witches that would join them. Among them was the nephilim Serissa, who would or would not return to the city, her mind still undecided as news of what was happening to her home reached her. 

Into the dawn of the third day, the fighting would continue. Which followed into the fourth, and then the fifth: by the sixth day Rome had fallen completely as the lycans took hold of it entirely alongside the fey. Lawless and abandoned, depraved and violent, the coven houses fell, the vampiric estates fell and the city was transformed into a battlefield. The Titan devastated the city for several days and several nights until Tamlen was cut down when The Executioner bit off his head, a fact that Felandaris chided him for but it was okay because the Architect could not stay mad at them. Shortly after the chancellor's magic was shortly depleted. Elsewhere, beneath the Pyramid, the celestial elf bloomed like ripened fruit and fell from a limb of the Laurelin. Fortifications had risen around the Pyramid, above the flying fortress of the drow had established a hold, both above Rome and below, the dark catacombs were their natural ally. Put on the defensive by the raw aetherial magic of the Titan, at its separation the drow were at last prepared to truly begin their assault. Dawn never came, but a black sun continued to burn overhead as the fey wove their magic to close off the city’s borders, both above and below so none who’d entered could leave or return to the Otherworld. 

Together within, they were all trapped together.

ooc info:

The landscape has shifted, you can see where everyone is here.

Drow are primarily in their flying city or below it.

Allied Senate Forces are in their Pyramid/Otherworld Base Camp or on the Battlefield outside of Dis. Necromancers are able to communicate with people in the Allied Base Camp for some mental warfare, or to feed them information (traitors), but they can't physically affect them in any way.

Asphodel girlies are in Necromanteion.

Prisoners are in the Blood Prison :).

Battlefield is going crazy, every day the Allies advance a bit towards the city and their encampment grows. Everyday they lose more people, about a third of their force is lost by the next drop when they reach the walls.

The dead are dead. They are out of play and are completely closed for interactions, if you have ongoing threads with them, drop them.

The unaccounted for are temporarily out of play, unless they're mentioned in the plot drop and then disappear. In which case you can roleplay up until the moment they went MIA.

Everyone else who was in Rome at the time are trapped in the city somewhere, the Lupo are tearing the city apart while they help the fey fight the drow and their forces.

Drow have blotted out the sun, both with magic and with the massive flying fortress overhead. They can move freely from their city to the Court thanks to Felan's gates.

The flowers of the pharmakis are all gone, those earned in Knossos, and any that existed previously. RIP.

Slay. Next plot drop with be November 3rd, nine days away in game, 7 days ooc.

All non-event threads must be put on hold.

[wickedsrest-rp]

Name: Jeremiah "Jerry" Melano Species: Bugbear Occupation: Park Ranger Age: 43 Years Old Played By: Paul Face Claim: David Harbour

"You don’t need to understand Mother Nature to appreciate her, but if you don’t show her respect.. Well, she’s got teeth and claws a’plenty."

TW: Physical & emotional abuse, body shaming, disordered eating, depression

Originally thought to only be a fictitious boogeyman out of English folklore, the first live specimens of a bugbear were observed in the late 19th century, living amongst the black bear population of the Catskill Mountains.  Often said to resemble a monstrous bear, they are known to lurk in woods on the outskirts of human settlements, and are often used by parents to frighten young children into behaving.

In modern English, a ‘bugbear’ is a pet peeve or annoyance, whereas the archaic etymology translates roughly as ‘frightening’ or ‘goblin bear’.” - Extract from ‘Atlas Mythica: Journeys Through America’s Wyrderness’ by Ambrose Fortuna, pub. 1937.

Bugbears have always existed. As long as there has been something to fear in the wild and untamed places of the World, the bugbear has manifested in one way or another. Needing to consume the fear of others has led to an almost parasitic relationship with humans and is vital to bugbear survival, but that has never been the only way in which fear was intrinsic to the bugbear way of life.

It wasn’t easy growing up as a bugbear looking the way that Jerry did. His name wasn’t even Jerry back then, but those who know him now could still have recognised the same person; quiet, conscientious and fiercely protective of those he loved. Unfortunately, the bugbear community looks to different qualities when judging an individual’s worth and it was decided early that Jerry was not worth a great deal.

Bugbears are scary, and the hierarchy within their society is built on that one simple fact. Those who can instil fear and terrify their prey are valued by the community as a whole, while those who cannot are viewed simply as a burden. 

No one had ever considered Jerry to be scary. Even as a cub, his soft doughy body and fluffy white fur marked him out as prey, rather than predator. Other cubs took great pleasure in tormenting Jerry, while the adults would mutter darkly amongst themselves. The humans would see him as a ‘Spirit Bear’, they whispered, a symbol of Peace, Harmony & Remembrance, but never something to be feared. They all knew that exile would be the most common fate for a bugbear like Jerry, some even considered it to be a kinder fate than allowing a cub to grow up and become such a burden on their society. 

But Jerry’s father was a terrifying figure of power & influence within their community and he would never have another male child, since his mate had died during childbirth and he’d refused to take another.  In this environment, Jerry grew up ostracised by the adults around him, tortured by his peers and beaten by the father that blamed him for his mother’s death. He tried to cover his pale fur with stinking mud and foliage, but the other juvenile cubs took to calling him ‘Skunk Ape’ and threw stones. 

Eventually, Jerry came to accept all the things that were said about him, believing that he was as worthless as everyone said and that it would’ve been better if he’d died alongside his mother on the day of his birth.

One bitter winter’s night, bruised and bloodied from another beating, Jerry walked deep into the woods, alone but determined. Out in the wilds, he would find somewhere to lie down among deep drifts of snow and, after shifting out of bear form, would sleep until the cold spirits of the storm claimed him…

But fate had a different destiny in mind for the young bugbear. 

A Park Ranger from the Wicked’s Rest State Park, out looking for missing hikers in the winter storm, was drawn by a raven’s call and stumbled across the naked, mud covered shape of a child, shivering in a snow-filled hollow. Looking little more than eight years old, the boy would surely have died if the Ranger hadn’t found him. Radioing for another person to take over the search, the Park Ranger gathered the child into his arms, bundled up in his thick padded jacket, and carried Jerry out of the woods.

It was weeks before Jerry regained consciousness and months before he spoke, but the Rangers of Wicked’s Rest took it in turns to care for him. Ironically, in those early days in the hospital it was their fear that he might die that actually kept Jerry alive. As he recovered, Jerry found that he could feed on those same fears when manifested by visitors to sick relatives in the hospital. Over time, Jerry grew stronger until he was eventually discharged into the care of Luis Melano, the Ranger who had found him in the woods that night.

Luis and his wife, Amelia, were good people, but without children of their own, and Jerry brought a lightness to their home which they had been sorely missing. They never questioned the boy about the scars on his body and put their efforts into giving Jerry all the love and support which he had clearly been without for too long. He spoke his first words to them on April 30th, the eve of St. Jeremiah’s Day, and thus was the child named. Jerry was officially adopted as their son not long after.

Luis wasn’t surprised when his son shifted into bear-form for the first time, since he’d spent long enough in Wicked’s Rest to know the truth about the place and had had suspicions about Jerry’s heritage for some time. Luis was of Tsimshian heritage and he knew the legends of his people about Moksgm’ol, the Spirit Bear of the British Columbian rainforest. Conscious that his son should know where he came from, Luis started taking his son out into the woods and forests with him, showing him the beauty of the place, as well as introducing him to other bugbears.

Jerry’s biological father was incensed when he eventually found out. The old bugbear chieftain, deeply scarred from many failed attempts to usurp his authority, loudly denounced his own blood, refusing to recognise the boy and proclaimed his son to be dead. What Luis had hoped would be a reunion only served to increase the animosity between bugbears and humans - especially within Jerry’s own blood clan. 

Jerry Melano followed in his adopted father’s footsteps, becoming a Park Ranger himself. He excelled at telling scary stories around campfires, and learned what it meant to be a bugbear from those others that lived both in the State Park and in the wider town of Wicked’s Rest. He loved these woods and when his father retired, Jerry took up his position as a Senior Ranger, hoping to one day build a bridge between the humans and bugbears, but until then he’d be guiding visitors through the wilds, protecting the forest and keeping its secrets safe.

Character Facts:

Personality: Apathetic, conscientious, introverted, disagreeable, loyal, protective, insecure, anxious, eloquent, passionate

The appearance of Jerry’s bear-form has a strong resemblance to a white Kermode bear, also known as a spirit bear.

When encountered, Jerry will generally be either smoking or eating, sometimes both.

Jerry’s favourite cereal is Lucky Charms.

His sense of smell is incredibly acute, even for a bugbear.

[felinefelicia]

〘    valentina zenere. female. she/her.    〙  from the marvel universe FELICIA HARDY’S spotify wrapped says they’ve listened to hot girl by CHARLI XCX over a hundred times. figures, THE TWENTY-THREE YEAR OLD is a ANTI-HERO. in order to pay the bills, they are a SOCIALITE/THIEF. those who know them well enough say that the LEO is fun-loving and deceptive. they are often seen ALONE.

THE BASICS

FULL NAME: FELICIA SARA HARDY

ALIAS, IF ANY: BLACK CAT

CLASSIFICATION: ENHANCED HUMAN

NATIONALITY: AMERICAN

AGE: 23 YEARS OLD

DATE OF BIRTH: 28TH AUGUST

HOMETOWN: NEW YORK

CURRENT LOCATION: NEW YORK, NEW YORK

GENDER: CIS FEMALE

PRONOUNS: SHE/HER

OCCUPATION(S): SOCIALITE, THIEF (SECRET)

AFFILIATIONS, IF ANY: N/A

THE PHYSICAL APPEARANCE

FACECLAIM: VALENTINA ZENERE

HAIR TYPE: WAVY

HAIR COLOR: BLONDE; DYED WHITE

EYE COLOR: BLUE

HEIGHT: 5′4"

WEIGHT: SHE SAYS IT’S A SECRET

BUILD: SLENDER

THE STORY BEHIND HER

Felicia Hardy was born in New York to Walter and Lydia Hardy. The Hardy family was a respectable and well-known family in the city. Walter was a highly successful traveling salesman and Lydia was a socialite who knew who was who and who had what. However, things changed when her father was arrested after it was discovered he wasn’t a salesman but actually a world-renowned thief who went by the name Black Cat. Before his arrest, Walter encouraged Felicia to do whatever she desired while her mother often drilled into her she should never come second to none.

TW; ASSAULT MENTIONED IN THIS SECTION. In school and college, Felicia Hardy was a very popular girl. She was a successful athlete, head cheerleader, played on the basketball team, and knew how to party, earning her the nickname Party Hardy. She got into university on a gymnastics scholarship. However, Felicia was a dedicated and smart student who just so happened to be a free spirit. She had it all until her relationship with her boyfriend at the time, Ryan, took a nasty turn, resulting in her being date raped.

From there, Felicia seemed the same but something deep down changed in her. She was full of anger and frustration for being victimized. Seeing the videos of people like the Avengers, she saw them as people who would never allow themselves to be a victim. Felicia dedicated herself to learning how to fight, using her already talented gymnastic skills, intent on crafting herself into a weapon of revenge so that when she faced him, he could feel every ounce of her anger with every hit she gave him. After months of preparation, Felicia was ready to get revenge but she would never get it. She discovered while trying to find him that Ryan passed away due to his drunk driving. This did nothing to quell her anger or frustration. Feeling like everything was being taken away from her, Felicia wanted her father back and began following in his footsteps, seeking out his teacher, the Black Fox. Through some petty thefts here and there, she grew confident and finally donned her very own Black Cat costume albeit homemade.

Her first big mission was to break her dying father out of prison and to let him spend his final moments with his family. Though she succeeded, her father died the same night. Seeing more footage of the superheroes in the world, Felicia found herself envious and wishing she had powers herself, especially after coming to blows with Spider-Man. Though a thief, she tried her hand at heroics but she couldn’t stray away from her stealing ways. Her envy eventually pushed her to pay a large sum of money to Kingpin who put her through a life-threatening procedure that altered her very DNA. Though she was in a critical condition for weeks, she believed it to be a failure until she noticed she could react to things far faster and do more than the average person.

Felicia had built a notorious reputation for her thieving ways as Black Cat and was an urban legend to New York while Felicia’s public identity was of a carefree party socialite, often seen enjoying nightlife and even being a DJ at certain events, being popular on social media.

SKILLS AND POWER

Felicia wanted powers and made a deal with the Kingpin to undergo a DNA-altering experiment to get them. As such, she discovered she has peak human physiology. She has superhuman reflexes, agility, and durability as well as night vision. Her eyesight and sense of hearing and smell are also higher than a regular human. Notably, Felicia developed faster than normal reflexes. Felicia is noted for being able to dodge several hits with ease, knife strikes, react swift enough to catch people/items, and famously able to react swift enough that she always lands on her feet to name a few feats as well as dodge gunfire. Felicia has always naturally been extraordinarily agile which was only enhanced after her experiment. Even as a child, she was able to execute mid-air somersaults and cartwheels. Her agility improved with age, and her party trick was walking around in a head stance on her fingers. She later developed remarkable acrobatic abilities, which allowed her to perform high-wire acts with balance and grace. Because of this, Felicia is fast and agile in battle, able to outmaneuver almost any opponent she comes across and jump exceptionally high and far, even from a stationary position. Her abilities allowed her to dodge many attacks and gunfire, unable to land a hit on her. She is also limber; able to twist, bend, and contort herself into positions nearly impossible for an ordinary person to achieve. These abilities also granted her impressive parkour and free-running skills, allowing her to scale almost any surface or terrain quickly and squeeze through most barriers and small spaces with noticeable ease. Felicia also has enhanced durability. Like her namesake, she can always land on her feet and absorb the shock impact of high falls and recover quickly from attacks. She can also take hits from moderately strong superhumans without injury or much need of recovery. However, her durability does not make her bulletproof as she can still be shot, stabbed, crushed, etc. She can also not take hits from powerful beings such as Thor or Hulk for example. She is an expert thief and as such, she is an expert in the arts of stealth, intelligence gathering, lock picking, hacking, safe cracking, escapology, and evading alarms, and disguises. Felicia is considered a master when it comes to gymnastics and acrobatics. Combined with her enhanced agility and reflexes, she can often make people think she causes them bad luck. Felicia has mastered several martial arts such as Goju-ryu Karate, Judo, Jiu-jutsu, Krav Maga, Capoeria, Boxing, Muay Thai, and Sambo. She is also an accomplished street fighter. She can take on several armed foes without sustaining an injury. Felicia has a unique style of using her agility and flexibility in combat, making her unpredictable and she isn’t above fighting dirty.

[lostbleedingarchive]

18+. preferably 21+.

intro lore:

the beginning:

a trans man is isekai'd into another world. the world seems empty of human life. there are strange statues everywhere.

the spirit of a god reveals himself to the man, explaining that this world is dying. all the humans were wiped out - and with no one to worship them, the gods have turned to stone. the gods aren't dead, they can be revived through devotion.

the spirit's body is stone, but due to his realm being death he's the last remaining god. he managed to summon the man to be the world's hero. the man has bpd, and has always devoted himself to people. he died by committing suicide after his latest devotion abandoned him, before being brought back to life in this new world. the spirit figured this was the perfect type of person to save the gods.

plot:

the trans man, named atlas, grew up in a small religious town. as a child, he was quiet and partially mute. he was taught how important devotion was, above all else. he was taught that the church leaders were the most devoted, which was why they held their positions. he wanted to be like that, but was told he couldn't bc he was a girl. he took that to mean that only men could be truly devoted. he dedicated his early life to trying to prove his devotion, to no avail.

as a teenager, he began taking interest in dating. his first partner was a boy named kirian. atlas began shifting his devotion from religion to romance. he dedicated himself to his partner, but after a year he was left broken-hearted when his bf told him that they just wouldn't work. kirian was straight, and felt increasingly uncomfortable as atlas learned to express himself more.

having the mindset of pure devotion, he figured he just wasn't trying hard enough. his 2nd partner was a girl named lily. a spiritual girl who believed in angels, gods, and magic. in his devotion, atlas renounced his original religion and learned about pagan gods. he spent every moment he could with lily. he secretly built a shrine to her after she taught him about altars. every gift, every broken fake nail, lost lipsticks, etc were collected and put on the shrine. he would pray to her and give her sweets and jewelry as offerings. when she eventually found out about the shrine, she broke up with him - saying it was unhealthy.

he started spiraling. near the end of highschool, he began dabbling in drugs. getting as high as possible to escape his obsessive thoughts. he put himself in danger - believing that because he loved the gods so much, they would never allow true harm to come to him. he took a break from dating, simply watching his love interests from a distance. stalking them online, taking notes and pictures of them, leaving them secret gifts. one boy he was devoted to, cain, found out and had atlas jumped. his notebooks were torn. his camera, phone, laptop, and bones were broken. he spiraled deeper.

after he graduated high school, he met a man named miles. miles was in his late 20s, nearing 30s, while atlas was only 19. miles told him that he loved being the center of devotion, and atlas thought he found his soul mate. he moved away from his town and moved in with his new bf. he didn't have a car, a job, or any connections. he lived his life in his home, a devoted servant to miles. still getting high all the time, he didn't realize how bad his situation was. after every fight that ended with him being punished, sweet words and being held by miles, he dissociated harder. he wouldn't eat properly, wouldn't sleep except when he was too stoned to move, he broke down multiple times a week. after 2 years, he caught miles in bed with a woman.

he began screaming at miles, betrayed and hurt. but the older man locked him in the spare bedroom, refusing to let him out until he "calmed down and accepted reality". the reality that miles didn't actually love him, but liked having a devoted slave. he had been cheating on him with various people from the beginning. in that moment, atlas believed miles was a reincarnated demon, sent to destroy him just like his past exes. demons who hated the gods and just wanted to destroy those who honored them, those who were brought to the world in holy devotion - prophets like atlas.

atlas took his own life. he couldn't remember how it happened, just the dull pain through tears and choking. miles didn't find him until days later.

as the world faded away, atlas could hear soft singing in the distance. a light filled his vision, and he felt himself dissolve away. when he opened his eyes again, he was in a courtyard. great stone archways surrounded him, with a beautiful fountain spraying out water and filling the air with mist and rainbows. the sun was warm, birds sang, and plants grew all over the walls and yard. he believed he must've made it to heaven. he wept in relief.

he began walking, noticing great statues in strange positions. picking flowers, eating food, sleeping, dancing. some of the statues were shattered across the floor. but he couldn't find anyone. no humans anywhere. he called out, looking for any living being.

a spirit appeared before him. a tall man with dark hair and eyes, shimmering in a golden robe and a crown of dead branches. his face was covered in a deer skull mask - or perhaps it wasnt a mask. the skull grinned at atlas.

"child of devotion, you've been summoned here to save us. i am hades, god of the unliving souls. i was able to bring you here after your spirit left your world. i beg for your help."

the god explained that this wasn't atlas' world, but a similar one. another realm. it used to be filled with life, hedonistic societies, magic. but, humans began to turn on each other for an unknown reason. they created weapons that destroyed cities, they tore down their temples and shrines. belief dwindled as they dug their grave of destruction. satyrs, nymphs, sirens, and other creatures went into hiding. gods began turning to stone due to no one believing in them anymore. the magical creatures devoted to them transformed into nature. mountains, trees, flowers, rivers, etc. in the end, the last humans starved to death while hiding in fear. the last of the gods all turned to stone. all that was left were the monsters that came before the gods.

hades wandered the dead world as a spirit, unable to wake his body. he read abandoned books, prophecies, and other writings to try to find a way to fix everything. he finally found the blood-stained journal of a seer, which said that an old god was destroying the humans that worshipped the new gods in an attempt to retake the world. it detailed a ritual to summon heroes from other worlds, should all hope be lost. however, the ritual needed multiple gods or sorcerers to work fully. in the end, hades was only able to summon a human soul. one that was average, perhaps less than average, in skill - but with the ability to bring gods back to life through their belief and devotion.

atlas was mute at first, looking scared. he managed to tell the god that his devotion couldn't possibly help, because it was never enough. it wasn't enough for humans, how could it possibly be enough for suffering gods?

hades only chuckled. he leaned down and cupped atlas' face.

"there once was a man here with your name - a great hero that held up the world. he never believed he was enough, but without him everything would have been crushed. his self sacrifice, his devotion, is what kept us safe. i know that you are the same, little atlas. your world was simply too big for the humans of your realm. you are my perfect choice."

atlas wept.

he would help this beautiful god that saved his soul. he would be enough. he would be perfect. nothing could possible stop him.

[ladyheraofthewhitearms]

A Phantom Face (Belos x F!Reader)

It’s said that if you live long enough, you’re able to see the same eyes in different people.

In Emperor Belos’ case, this took a literal meaning.

Having lived long past his natural human lifespan, Belos oversaw the ending of the Savage Ages and the beginning of his Empire. Through the centuries, he pushed thoughts and reminders of his previous life aside in order to focus on his aspirations. His goals. In order to bring about the Day of Unity, Belos kept reminding himself, he must dedicate all hours of the day to the present. “Keep moving forward” became his internal mantra. Philip is dead, he reminded himself. There’s only Belos now.

His nights, however, were a different story. Everyone he once cared about and let into his heart were dead. He had nothing left of his past life except his memories. Memories that haunted him like a vengeful spirit.

Images played through his head of his youth. Of the sun filtering through oak and maple trees. A soft hand holding his. Fingers running through his hair fondly while his head rested in her lap. Swimming in the local river, far enough away from town to avoid a scandal. Slow and passionate kisses under the heat of the summer sun.

Belos was old. Old enough to know better, he thought despondently. While he had once hoped to return to the human realm and to his lover, the years looking for a way home turned into decades. Decades turned into centuries. By the time that he had found a way back, it was too late. His love was long gone.

Although reliving these events from the human realm were painful beyond belief, Belos managed. He allowed himself to grieve during the night and to collect himself by the time the sun rose. While it wasn’t healthy, per say, and it resulted in the dramatic bags under his eyes, it worked. 

That was, until these memories infiltrated his waking moments.

This time, the spirit of his past life appeared before him more vividly than it ever had before.

Belos’ eyes widened. The name left his lips before he could stop himself.

“(Y/n)?”

Belos saw a face that was supposed to be centuries old and a whole dimension away right in front of him. 

Philip was long dead, he told himself. The boy that had ventured into the Demon Realm had died alongside his brother. He was Belos now. Emperor of the Boiling Isles.

All of these thoughts melted away, however, at the sight of her face. Everything about her brought that familiar comfort that he sought every night rushing back. 

Her soft hair that he had spent many nights nuzzling into, memorizing the feel of it on his face and the comforting scent it brought. Her kind face that he had held in his hands, fitting perfectly as if it was made for his touch alone. Her radiant (e/c) eyes that had captured his heart the moment they met his own all the way across the town square. Her alluring lips whose kisses were ages away but still managed to keep him up at night. He never stopped longing for their caress on his now scarred skin.

All of these features were just as he remembered them. She was just how he remembered her. His first love. His one regret that he had left in the human realm. His primary motivation all those years ago to return to the human realm. (Y/N), who should by every right be long dead, was standing right in front of him like a phantom. Yet another reminder of the life he left behind.

Waving a hand, Belos gestured vaguely towards the door, his attention solely focused the woman kneeling before him.

Bowing deeply, the guards obediently exited the room in a single file. He could practically hear the whispers as they entered the hall, curious as to what their Emperor had in mind for the poor girl.

Puzzled, (Y/N) watched the guards leave the room with growing dread and blinked in confusion. Looking up towards the looming man in the throne, she decided to break the uncomfortable silence.

“Your majesty? I don’t believe that I’ve had the honor of meeting you before. How do you know my name?”

Shaking off his momentary shock, Belos then narrowed his eyes. Even though her face is a reminder of home, he had to remind himself that this was still the Boiling Isles. Everyone has an angle and anything that seemed too good to be true had to be approached with caution.

“What sort of wild magic is this? I don’t know what you hope to gain with this illusion, but I assure you. Of all the faces you could have picked, you have picked the one that is all but guaranteed to incur my anger. I highly recommend that you choose your next words wisely.”

Now panicking, (Y/N) hurriedly stammered, “Your majesty, I-I’m so sorry to have offended you but I’m not sure what I’ve done wrong. I assure you, I have no intentions of tricking you and I certainly haven’t used any magic to alter my appearance.” (Y/N) paused. She then anxiously continued, “Well, I might have used some magic to help with my make-up this morning but that was it! I swear to the Titan!”

Time seemed to grind slowly forward as they stared at each other, both equally confused at the situation though for different reasons. 

Belos steadily rose from his grandiose throne and approached the frightened figure.

“Is that so?” Every slow step echoed in the court as he drew ever closer.

“Then answer me this, lovely. Who are you? Where do you come from?” Stopping in front of the girl, he looked at her oh so familiar eyes and smirked. If this truly wasn’t a trick, then there was no way that he was going to let her go. He had waited far too long to let a chance like this slip through his fingers.

Leaning down, he whispered in her ear,

“You and I have much to discuss, little one.”

[the-badger-mole]

On the Clearest Night: 1K Followers Special

So, I hit 1K followers! For a while, I really didn't think I'd get to this point, but I did it! Somehow... Do I get a trophy or a cash prize or....? In honor of this illustrious occasion, I've reached out to my 1,000th follower and asked them if they had a prompt they wanted me to and they chose Painted/Blue. Here's the result. Thanks to everyone who followed me because of some random post I made and didn't unfollow me when I didn't live up to your expectations. Thanks to @iromiak for being number 1,000! Couldn't have done it without you! And I promise I will continue providing the nonsense you expect from my blog until I get bored and leave forever.

And now! Tonight's feature presentation:

On the Clearest Night

He couldn't decide if she was truly a spirit or not. Zuko had come at his father's request to Jang Hui to investigate the explosion at the arms factory. When he arrived he was confronted by two different versions of the story. The soldiers protecting the armory gave a report of a dark-clad vigilante leading a highly organized team armed with sophisticated explosives acting during the night. The citizens on the other hand told a tale of a river spirit appearing in the form of a beautiful young woman healing the sick, clearing up the river and ridding them of the factory that had nearly destroyed their way of life for good. One side was near rabid with the desire for retribution, and the other side spoke in hushed awe about their savior.

"That's enough,' the boy's mother took his hand and nearly dragged him away from Zuko. She smiled apologetically. "He insists he saw the Painted Lady, but the truth is none of us got a good look at her face. The veil, you know."

"I did see," the boy grumbled unhappily. "Mama said I would have died if the Painted Lady hadn't returned to help us."

"Then I'm glad she was here," Zuko said sincerely.

Still, he had a job to do. His father had entrusted him to find out what had happened to one of the most important armories in the country and to bring the guilty parties to justice. To his relief, Zuko was able to clear the half-starved, ragged villagers of any wrongdoing. He made a note with his secretary to have some sort of aid set up for the village. The soldiers from the armory weren't thrilled about sharing their rations, but it would do until Zuko could get back to Caldera and make more permanent arrangements for relief. He would have to ask his father about assigning a minister to look into how a village like Jang Hui could be allowed to fall so far through the cracks and make sure there were no other such oversights. It was bad enough that he was beginning to hear rumbles of dissent about the draconian conscription laws, the Fire Nation couldn't afford crisis-level poverty, besides.

Zuko stayed in the village another two days, gathering as many clues and leads as he could. There was something strange about the first-hand accounts from the villagers that he couldn't quite place. It was as if they were being careful about saying too much. He heard all about the people who had been brought back from the brink of death by the Painted Lady, and about the stores of food that had been laid at the doorstep of the worst-off families. He'd heard about her ethereal beauty, but they all stopped just short of any truly pertinent details.

"The soldiers said that she was human," a young boy told Zuko. "That she was from outside the Fire Nation, but I saw her! Her eyes were silver and she floated on the river with no raft. "

"That's enough,' the boy's mother took his hand and nearly dragged him away from Zuko. She smiled apologetically. "He insists he saw the Painted Lady, but the truth is none of us got a good look at her face. The veil, you know."

"I did see," the boy grumbled unhappily. "Mama said I would have died if the Painted Lady hadn't returned to help us."

"Then I'm glad she was here," Zuko said sincerely.

The day Zuko was supposed to leave, there was a sudden stir in the village center. A small group had arrived from a neighboring village, having heard about the troubles in Jang Hui. They bore what scant supplies they could spare and interesting news.

"We've been visited by the Painted Lady," a middle-aged woman said as she passed out blankets and farming tools. "She cured a few that was ailin', and then she told us that you lot would need some help to finish getting back on your feet."

"You spoke to her?" Zuko asked, pushing his way forward to the newcomers. "Directly?" The woman and her companions blinked in surprise. Someone quickly let them know who he was, and they all dropped down into deep bows.

"Please, you don't need to do that," Zuko insisted, somewhat impatiently. "I just want to know if you got a good look at her. Is she a spirit or is she human?" The villagers of Jang Hui stilled and seemed to hold their breath. Zuko tried not to notice.

"I can't say any of us got a good look at her, your highness," the woman said hesitantly. "There was a heavy fog, and she was covered from head to toe in a long, flowing robe. All any of us who were there could see was something glowing in her hands when she touched the sick, and the red markings along her arms. Then she was gone as if she'd never been there." Someone behind Zuko let out a breath that sounded like a relieved sigh. His mouth pulled down slightly at the corners. It seemed he had gotten as much information out of Jang Hui as he was likely to get. He asked the newcomers where they'd come from, and he ordered his men to prepare to follow that trail at dawn the next day.

That night, Zuko's men went to bed early in preparation, but Zuko couldn't turn in quite yet. He made his way to the edge of the river. He'd been told that up until a few days before, it had been thick and dark with the sludge from the factory. It was unfishable, undrinkable, and useless for anything except disposing of waste, but it was the lifeline of the village. Tonight the water was still murky, though Zuko could make out the riverbed in the shallow water. In a few days more, it would run clear again. Zuko frowned. Had his father known that this factory had almost killed a village?

A rustling in the bushes behind him startled Zuko. He had spun around into a defensive crouch before he really registered what he'd heard. An elderly man, who Zuko had seen lurking near the edges of his conversations with the villagers, approached. He was frail-looking, all bent and leathery with his skin stretched tightly across knobby, arthritic bones. Zuko didn't think he was a threat, but he didn't let his guard down either.

"Do you need something?" he asked uncertainly.

"I wanted a chance to speak to you," the old man said. "I didn't think I'd get to before you left in the morning, but I think perhaps I'm meant to after all." Zuko stared at him in confusion for a moment.

"What do you need from me?" he asked, not impolitely.

"I just wanted to say that in all the years we'd been begging for help from Caldera, this was the first time we'd felt we'd been heard."

"Oh," Zuko dropped his fists and shifted uncomfortably on his feet. "I...I just wish we could have done more. When I get home, I'll look into a longer-term solution-"

"I am certain you will," the man cut him off. "And we would be grateful, but that's not what I meant. When the Painted Lady arrived, we were in the middle of dying, your highness. She found several of us breathing our last, and she saved us. Then she got rid of the source of our ills and gave us a second chance to perhaps thrive once again. As I'm sure you can imagine, we're a bit protective of our protector." Zuko's shoulders slumped. He was suddenly exhausted. All he wanted was to go home to his own bed and forget all about Jang Hui. He was certain this old man had much the same wish.

"I have to know who she is," Zuko said, almost apologetically. "If she's a spirit, I have to let the Fire Lord know so we can send the sages to look into this and figure out how to keep her happy. And if she's human...I know she was trying to help, but this," Zuko gestured to the looming husk of the factory. "I can't let her- or them- get away with this. I'll argue for leniency, but this was a crime."

"I understand," the old man said, shaking his head sadly.

"Do you know what she was?" Zuko pressed.

"I'm afraid I have no answer for you." The old man shrugged. "I don't know any human who could heal the dying, though."

-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-

The next few days were spent chasing rumors and picking up cold trails. It was just like old times, Zuko thought ruefully. Then he promptly shoved that thought away. It was a coincidence. Nothing more.

The Painted Lady had been spotted only once more since the visitors to Jang Hui told their story. Zuko thought he'd come close to an answer in a bustling town where he'd heard about two prisoners escaping a strangely built cell- wood, of all things in the Fire Nation- but there was even less information to be gathered than in the last two sightings. It was enough, though, to make Zuko suspect that perhaps they weren't chasing another ghost.

In another town, Zuko heard rumors of a spirit that only came out during the full moon and took the unwary in the woods. Zuko thought about investigating, but he soon caught word of another struggling town not too far away. It seemed a likely place for the Painted Lady to appear next. Besides, kidnapping people in the woods was the wrong MO. It was probably animals that snatched up careless wanderers (though perhaps, Zuko thought, it wouldn't be a bad idea to send someone to investigate soon).

The town that Zuko and his men arrived in was in terrible shape. It was in worse shape than he'd left Jang Hui in. Despite being a farming town in a year with a plentiful harvest, the people were starving. Starvation had been compounded with a wasting sickness that had already claimed what was estimated to be about a third of the population. That was the sanitized version that Zuko and his men had been given, but the young prince suspected that there was more to the story and that knowing more would make the situation look bleaker. But as with Jang Hui, the villagers were tight-lipped and unwilling to give anything up. It was frustrating to Zuko. After all, how could he help if he didn't know the whole of the problem? Still, he'd gathered enough to know that the Painted Lady hadn't been through yet, and he suspected it was only a matter of time before she did. It was time to send in someone who might have better luck on reconnaissance.

Zuko had a conversation with the captain of his guard that night. It had been a long journey, he acknowledged. Longer than he anticipated, and he knew that the men were getting anxious. The captain tried to assure Zuko that the men were fine, but Zuko insisted that they needed a break. Just a small one for the evening, and then they could pick up again tomorrow. The men caught a small wooly mountain elk and prepared it for a feast that evening. Someone even brought out a few bottles of strong arrack and passed them around. The feast flared up and fizzled quickly after the first few rounds of drinks, like a firework. Soon the men began to drop off around the camp. Some made it back to their cots and others just lay down where they were and fell into a deep sleep.

Zuko looked over them with a small tinge of guilt as he pulled on the Blue Spirit mask he'd smuggled in his bags. He didn't spike the bottles with anything harmful, but they would have a hard time waking the next morning. Zuko would be back by then.

The men had made impressive work of that evening's feast, but there was still a haunch and several smaller cuts of meat left. These Zuko bundled as best he could and carried it off towards the village. Finding the Painted Lady was his main goal, but he was glad to be able to be of use to his people, too.

The food Zuko deposited at the door of the woman who seemed to be the unofficial mayor of the town to be distributed by her the next day. Once that was done, Zuko found a roof and settled in to wait.

It didn't take long. Zuko had barely settled in his spot when a sudden, heavy bank of fog rolled in. At first, Zuko could see nothing, but he heard someone shuffling along through the mists. His heart caught in his throat when he saw the figure emerging. The light of the half-moon penetrated the fog enough to cast her in a silvery glow. Zuko could see the outline of the flowing robes she wore, and the droplets clinging to her gossamer veil caught the moonlight and made it appear as if she wore diamonds or stars to hide her face. And she was heading right for the house Zuko was on.

She entered quietly, and a moment later, Zuko saw a bluish, silver glow coming through the window. He crept to the edge of the roof and lowered his head and shoulders so he could see. It was just as he'd heard. The glow was coming from the Painted Lady's hands. She had them pressed to the chest of a young boy who was struggling to breathe. Zuko watched in terrified awe as a long, thin string of phlegm was drawn through the boy's mouth and discarded in the hearth of the nearby fireplace. When she was done, the boy was breathing easier already. She pressed her hands to his head next, and the boy sighed with relief before falling into a deeper, more restful sleep.

Her task done, the Painted Lady stood and headed back to the door. Zuko scrambled back onto the roof as quickly and as quietly as he could. He kicked a loose tile, causing it to skitter across the roof, but it feel into some bushes below, to his relief. He made back to his original hiding spot mere moments before the Painted Lady reemerged. He waited to see what she would do next. Move onto the next house, he thought, but she stopped suddenly and turned to the exact spot he'd been hiding.

"I know you're there." Zuko froze at her voice. He knew that voice. Why did he know that voice?

"You may as well come out," she continued. "I mean no one in the town harm, but if you refuse to show yourself, I'll have to assume you mean harm." The air grew colder suddenly, and Zuko saw vicious-looking shards appearing in the fog. Reluctantly, he stepped out of the shadows and stood at his full height. The Painted Lady looked up at him, and in the moonlight, he could see the red patterns painted on her bronze skin and a slight frown on her crimson lips. Mostly, though, his attention was caught by her startling eyes. He could just see them past her veil, glowing silver in the moon's rays.

"I know you," she gasped in surprise. "You're the Blue Spirit."