#what if i was trained/mutated to be a human weapon and lost all sense of my own humanity to the point i started feeling like a puppet | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

authorautumnbanks · 1 year ago

Text

How To Tame A Sorcerer (20)

"How is the investigation going?" Yaga questions, his hands folded on top of the wooden desk. There's a couple of new cursed dolls near his hands.

"I'm still observing," Gojo replies. "What do you know about demons?"

If Yaga is surprised by the change in topic, he doesn't show it. "There's no such thing as actual demons." Yaga leans back in the chair. "Did you run into another unregistered?"

It occurs to him that Yaga truly doesn't believe that the existence of demons is possible. Gojo bites down on his tongue. Yakeru mentioned having some sort of glamor that hid his non-human like features. But how did demons as a whole fly under everyone's radar for centuries? There has to be something on them. "It wasn't a curse that I encountered."

"A new breed of curse, perhaps."

"Ask Master Tengen sometime." Gojo pushes himself off the wall and walks out. There is no point in sticking around and talking in circles over something that Yaga won't allow himself to believe. He walks down the halls, head cast down in thought, towards Megumi's room. Gojo rolls his shoulders, easing some of the tension away.

"Don't start," Megumi calls out. A couple of seconds later, the door opens.

Odd that Megumi heard him before he could start his excessive knocking. Gojo flashes a wide smile at the dark-haired boy. "Aw Megumi-kun! Your senses are getting better."

"It was actually Buyo Jr," he says, rubbing the back of his neck.

Gojo makes a show of looking around the boy. The once bare room is now decorated with pictures of Megumi and Buyo Jr. Kagome really isn't getting her cat back, he thinks. "Where is he?"

"Can we go out to the woods?" Megumi closes the door behind him and steps around Gojo.

"Must be important if we can't talk about it here," Gojo comments, following Megumi. "How's training going with the second years?"

"We'll win the event."

"Maki must be putting you guys through it." Gojo puts his hands into his pants pockets. What was so important that they had to go all the way out to the woods? It's not as though the school is overflowing with students and staff. "You know, Megumi-kun,"

"Don't start."

"Such a cruel child I've raised," Gojo replies with feigned hurt.

"I wanted to talk to you about Buyo," Megumi says. He turns around, facing Gojo. The trees surrounding provide a semblance of privacy.

"If you lost him, then you get to tell Gome-chan." Gojo wags his finger in the air, tsking.

"I didn't lose him," Megumi snaps. He clenches his fists, face cast into a frown.

Gojo's heart sinks drops to the bottom of his gut. "Megumi, I can't help you if you don't tell me what's wrong." His eyes snap towards the moving shadow, they widen behind his blindfold as Buyo Jr jumps out in his larger form. The nekomata approaches Gojo. He reaches a hand out and scratches Buyo's head. "How?"

"I don't know. I was experimenting with hiding weapons in the shadows when he just jumped in. He's able to go in and out as he pleases. My shikigami are different now."

Gojo stops petting Buyo Jr, much to the annoyance of the nekomata if the growls are anything to go by. "How different?" Gojo thinks back to the earlier conversation with Yakeru. If curses are able to gain power from demonic energy, then maybe Megumi's shikigami are no different.

Megumi calls forth his black dog. The size of it doesn't concern Gojo since he knows that Megumi lost his white dog from fighting that special grade. No, the size isn't a cause of concern, but the puffs of fire emitting from its jaws, and the electrifying energy surrounding it, are. "Are all of your shikigami like this?"

"In some fashion, yes." Megumi retracts his dog. "They're still tamed, but it is as though they have mutated. I'm just assuming that it is because of Buyo."

"Well, Buyo Jr here is a demon." Gojo resumes scratching the nekomata's ears. Honestly, he's just happy that the cat isn't lost or dead somewhere.

"Demons don't exist," Megumi states.

"Then what is Buyo? A mutated house cat?"

"But…"

"Does that change your opinion of him? I can take him back—"

"No!" Megumi coughs. "No, I like having him around. And he protected me when Sukuna took over. Are there more demons out there?"

"Yes." Gojo looks down at Buyo Jr. "They use some sort of glamor to keep themselves hidden. This is just a hypothesis, but Buyo Jr may be able to alert you if one of his kind is near. Not all of them are allies. How many people know about Buyo going in your shadow?"

"Just you. I told the others that he is a shikigami that I like to keep out. Nobara knows that he isn't."

"Let's keep it that way."

"I agree. You wouldn't want your humans experimenting on the poor thing," a voice calls out.

"Gojo-sensei, is that fox talking?"

"Yakeru?" Gojo asks, looking down at the red fox. He hopes that it's that stupid fox.

"I hope that this is later enough for you," the fox responds as its body shifts, stretching out into the red-headed man that Gojo is used to. "I didn't feel like following your scent all over Japan. Too cumbersome when you're a small business owner."

"Oh, funny how you got through the barrier." Gojo flashes his teeth, noting how Buyo moves from his side to stand in front of Megumi.

"That flimsy thing? I'm sure Kagome-sama could make one better." Yakeru waves the air as though the barrier that has kept the school protected for years is nothing more than a child's plaything. "At the very least, a barrier should keep people out. Just having one that makes the school invisible is ineffective. But what do I know?"

He likes to go off on tangents, Gojo thinks, but at least nothing in his stance suggests aggression. "Megumi, this is Yakeru. He's a fox demon. Not sure if he's an ally just yet."

"I have pledged myself to Kagome-sama, and as her mate, that pledge extends to you as well." Yakeru dips his head. "Others are free game if it pleases me."

"Mate? Pledge?"

"Megumi, did I ever give you the birds and bees talk?" Gojo quips. Heat ebbs and flows through his veins.

"I'm going to punch you, knock it off."

"At any rate, you requested a spar," Yakeru interjects.

Gojo teleports to the side of Yakeru and kicks the fox. He doesn't want to kill the demon, so he holds back, treats Yakeru as if he were one of his students. Easy. Not too much force, but not so little that Yakeru won't feel the pain later. Buyo Jr's hair spikes up. "Easy, boy," he says, "Yakeru and I are just training."

"I certainly wouldn't want to face you seriously," Yakeru says, standing up. He pulls out a flask and throws the items onto the floor. Pink smoke follows the contact.

It would be an effective tactic against anyone else, Gojo thinks, grabbing a hold of the fist that Yakeru throws at him. The man's face is lit up in pure joy, his green eyes sparkle along with the trees, and for a brief moment, Gojo allows a genuine smile to grace his face. "Is this all that you can do?" He mocks.

Mischief flashes across Yakeru's face. "Of course not, there are better tactics to use against someone like you." He kicks out and jumps back when Gojo releases his fist.

"Oh?" Gojo hums, crosses his arms. Yakeru blows a kiss at him as white smoke engulfs the demon's body. Confusion crashes into him, forcing him to take a step back. Logically he knows that what he's seeing can't be true, but his six eyes never lie to him.

"How do I look?" Yakeru asks, twirling around. The short green skirt rises up in the action. "A perfect transformation, yeah?"

"Why do you look like Kagome," Gojo grounds out, his body shakes. It's not her, he reminds himself, but he can't bring his body to move.

"Doesn't matter how strong the human is," Yakeru states, "there's always a weakness somewhere. So, what will you do now? Would you actually attack your mate?" He sticks his tongue out and throws up his hands.

It makes Gojo sick.

"You can't do it," Yakeru goads and then sighs dramatically. "Can I call you Satoru? I feel like we're learning so much about one another."

"Why do you look like Kagome?" Gojo repeats.

"I can transform into anything or anyone." Yakeru plays with the hem of the skirt.

"Don't flash my student."

"How is this guy an ally again?" Megumi questions.

"Can your six eyes see through the illusion?" Yakeru crosses his arms, the action pushes his bust–no, Kagome's bust upward.

Gojo berates himself for noticing. "No… there is a haze around you. Kagome's aura is brighter."

"Focus on that. Cursed energy is similar enough to demonic. You just need to train your eyes to see the difference."

Gojo tilts his head. When did he become the student in this exchange?

"Can all demons do this?" Megumi asks.

"No, but enough of us can."

While they chat, Gojo focuses on the distortion of energy, pushing past the ache between his eyes. The image of Kagome fades away, morphing back into Yakeru. "Seven. You have seven tails." He snaps his fingers.

"You truly are a genius!" Yakeru praises, clapping his hands.

"Someone has shown you the school before," Gojo says, the words leaving his mouth before his mind has time to analyze the impact of them. "Who?"

"No one that is still alive."

"I thought we didn't bring civilians here," Megumi says, but it comes out more like a question.

"We don't." A lie since he brought Kagome to the grounds when he heard about Yuji's death. "Either you pretended to be someone else…"

"Or, I was simply a student. After all, I had you fooled."

"Why reveal all of this?" Megumi asks.

"Because of his weird devotion to Kagome," Gojo responds. He needs to pry this whole prophecy ordeal out of Yakeru when there's no one else around. His phone buzzes in his pocket, drawing his attention away from the smirking fox. He glances at the message and sends a quick response back to Nanami.

"Well, I'm afraid that I am out of time," Yakeru says as he peels back his illusion. "Should you need of me, you know where to find me." He salutes them as he transforms into a bird and flies off.

"Megumi," Gojo starts.

"Yeah, I know."

He laughs, full-out belly aching laughing. Gojo walks over and slaps Megumi's back, delighting in the boy's irritated expression.

"You've lost it."

"Isn't this so much fun?"

"We're surrounded by demons and now there are talking curses. How is that fun?"

"Sure makes things interesting. I wonder what else we'll find." He throws an arm around Megumi's shoulder, squeezes. "Come on Megumi-kun, we've got training to do."

#gojo satoru x kagome #gojo x kagome #how to tame a sorcerer #fanfic #crossposted on ao3 #inuyasha fanfiction #jujutsu kaisen x inuyasha #crossover fanfiction

0 notes

black-mesa-slut-voice · 4 years ago

Photo

YOUR BEGINNER’S GUIDE TO CLASSIC HEADCRAB DOMESTICATION

Click below to start reading this comprehensive document!

Note: All of this is written purely for fun by an aspiring zoologist who simply loves genetics and speculative biology! This is only mildly inspired by source material, and isn’t completely indicative of canon. A lot of these things are just speculative or made up for fun!

If you want to use any of this information for your own headcanons, OCs, or fanart, you are 100% welcome to use it, though I would like to be credited!

If you would like to see more things based on these headcanons, ocs, or simply more things or art I’ve done on this subject, check out my #headcrabguide tag on my blog!

HISTORY

In the wake of the 7 hour war and the proceeding Combine invasion, there was a large amount of casualties. However, not all of these casualties were humans. Animals took a lot of hits as well, and in the remaining 20 years before liberation, the resulting environmental tolls as well as continued extermination caused this sixth mass extinction- arguably just as bad or worse than the meteorite that killed the dinosaurs. Nearly 75% of land animals and over 68% of marine animals went extinct in this time frame.

The most notable toll was on human-domesticated animals. Because of the Combine influence, any animal that was reliant on human care was almost immediately wiped out, both purposefully and inadvertently as humans were no longer available to care for them. All livestock species and most pet species were completely eliminated, leaving humans with few, if no animal companions.

Humans, however, are a very social species, and are naturals at befriending things that are arguably dangerous. Wolves, cats, and even less common creatures such as foxes, snakes, and spiders were kept and tamed and bred for companionship and work despite their danger. When the Combine forces were driven off and humans were once again allowed to practice the art of domestication, they were left with very few options. Some birds, a few select felines, insects, and alien species were nearly all they had to work with.

And so, work they did.

Headcrabs, despite their use as a weapon by the Combine, were one of the first alien species to actually be domesticated. It is theorized that this is because a number of factors- first is that the one of the leading rebellion leaders, Dr. Isaac Kleiner, actually possessed one name “Lamarr”, putting the idea in many people’s heads that they could be tamed and kept. The second was their abundance. They were easy to find and acquire, and despite their danger, could easily be captured. Third, they are very easy to selectively breed and mass produce. Lastly, it was quickly discovered that headcrabs are much more intelligent and social than previously anticipated.

In the wild of their home planet, Xen, headcrabs actually had a very complex social system and niche. They formed large groups- called casts- that staked out swathes of territory. The leader of the group was called a gonarch. The gonarch was a large, heavily mutated headcrab that was the sole reproducer, similar to that of queen bees or ants. Though it was large, fast, and capable of defending itself, it lost it’s ability to easily feed itself, as it’s mouth became much smaller to make room for the reproductive sac.

Because of that, the rest of the cast was tasked with hunting and feeding the gonarch in exchange for protection and reproduction. The smaller, albeit still mature headcrabs would go out, and attempt to hunt down anything it could- smaller things were eaten or fed to the gonarch, and larger things that had the right shaped heads could be ‘coupled’ with, fusing the headcrab to it’s host and creating a gonome. Though gonomes were more powerful and capable of hunting larger prey and defending the rest of the cast, in turn, they lost their ability to reproduce. Thus, most casts had one gonarch, several gonomes, and many crabs.

Gonomes could come in any species that was large enough for a headcrab to couple with- and is perhaps why headcrabs were actually so easy to tame. With the right social encouragement, a headcrab can easily recognize humans and other larger creatures as being part of their cast, and regard them in the same way they would a gonome- with social respect and friendliness.

With a few generations of selective breeding, headcrabs quickly became much more docile due to their natural instinct of accepting oddly-shaped creatures as part of their cast.

CARE AND HANDLING

Despite the generations of breeding leading to a much more friendly, domesticated headcrab, care must still be exercised with them in regards to handling. They are very similar to cats in the fact that, despite their domestication, they can still be wild at nature and will often hunt smaller creatures, and are capable of harming someone if provoked.

Also similar to cats are their sense of community. Like mentioned, headcrabs can be trained and raised to see certain people- usually a household- as part of their cast. However, this presents a problem with strangers entering their ‘territory’. If not properly socialized, headcrabs can be quite aggressive to anyone they don’t recognize as part of their cast. This is beneficial for those who don’t expect anyone, or want a ‘guard dog’ type of pet- but can be detrimental to those who have friends or family that may come to visit.

Though headcrabs lack eyes, they are not completely blind. They have subdermal eyes located near the base of their front legs, which can detect lights and shapes. That, combined with their ability to ‘taste’ the air with specialized glands, are how they recognize others and their environment.

If you plan on having someone visit, it may be best to have something that smells like the visitor on hand for a few weeks beforehand, so your headcrab can become used to their scent.

For headcrabs that don’t mind activity, you can also take your headcrabs on walks or trips into public to get them accustomed to having strange scents and people around them, leading them to be less aggressive, even at home. Of course, it is always a good idea to have proper restraint for any flighty, aggressive, or even headcrabs that have never been socialized in public before.

Another good way to prevent injury is physical modification. For headcrabs that simply are rowdy or aggressive- or even just as a precaution for the most well behaved crab- there are several things you can do to prevent injury.

When headcrabs first started being tamed, the most common method of modification was ‘debeaking’. Despite it’s name, it’s actually a misnomer, as headcrabs don’t have beaks, only radial rings and fangs. ‘Debeaking’ was the process of removing all 18 fangs on the underside of the crab surgically, usually when young. This prevents them from growing back and completely eliminates the risk of being bitten.

However, this practice was quickly upturned under the argument of it being inhumane. While the headcrab often doesn’t suffer because of this, as their fangs are only used for gripping prey and not eating it- if done incorrectly, it can be painful in the long run.

One of the slightly more common methods are ‘fang caps’. Similar to claw caps for cats, fang caps are a small, plastic cap that can be fitted over the fangs of a headcrab. With a small amount of specialty glue, they become long-lasting solutions for injury prevention with no physical harm to your crab. Despite the seemingly perfect upsides, there are also precautions you must take. It is possible for a fang cap to become loose or fall off either through being applied incorrectly or simply from wear and tear. Thus, you must always monitor the state of the caps to ensure there are no accidents.

The third option, and the least used, is clipping. Though it does not remove the whole fang, clipping refers to filing down/clipping each fang individually so it’s not sharp. However, this is generally not only difficult, but it’s actually uncomfortable for the crab, and they can grow back fairly quickly.

For headcrabs that are properly either defanged or capped, there is little to no risk of being bitten. If a properly cared for headcrab does attack or try to mount your head, it can simply be pulled off, as there’s nothing allowing it to grip onto it’s ‘prey’.

However, you must still be mindful of the long, sharp front claws. Unlike the fangs, these do not have nerves until very deep in- and thus, can be slightly trimmed and filed with no discomfort on your crab’s end.

FEEDING

Headcrabs- despite their predatory nature- are not only social, but omnivores as well. This fact comes as a surprise to some people who look at them and compare them to things such as spiders.

Indeed, though a headcrab is most definitely a predator, they’re more opportunistic than anything. They will often eat nearly anything they wander across, including small creatures, decaying corpses, fruits, fungi, algaes and lichens, and very occasionally some vegetables and leafy matter.

Most of what they eat is less dependent on taste, and more of their actual physical ability to eat it. Because of their hyper specialized mouthparts, they are unable to chew. Instead, they scrape at the soft parts of whatever is fitted into their mouth with a specialized, rough ring around the inner mouth fitted with a bunch of extremely small ‘teeth’, similar to that of a lamprey. Thus, they can only eat what they can scrape off with that, and cannot chew bones or anything hard or with too much roughage. It’s non uncommon to see a headcrab take something into it’s mouth, such as a small bone or rock covered in lichen- ‘suck’ it clean, and spit it back out.

Thus, headcrabs can be fed nearly anything that they can fit into their mouth. Of course, that is within reason- it’s always good to look up what is or isn’t toxic to your crab, as well as feed them specialty diets to make sure they get all of the proper nutrients they need without over or underfeeding.

The most common way to feed is with commercial ‘crabcakes’- rounded nutrient blocks resembling a large piece of kibble, that comes in several sizes to fit in any crab’s mouth. Once given, a headcrab will take about a few hours to eat it, and don’t need to be fed again for another few days, or up to a week, depending on activity and how many supplemental treats are given in between. Though it’s perfectly fine to feed them only cakes or only prepared food, the most enriching and balanced option is feeding the cakes once a week, with smaller, daily ‘treats’ of different varieties being given.

Some of these treats can include:

Pieces of meat (any type, cooked or raw)

Small, whole prey (commercially prepared mice or chicks)

Whole or sliced fruits (apple, pear, etc)

Tubers (potato, sweet potato, carrot)

Hard vegetables / stalks (chopped celery, broccoli, etc)

Mushrooms (anything edible by humans is edible for your crab)

As a special treat, sometimes you can replace a cake with a large ‘prey’ item that would also take several hours to eat. Some examples are:

Large whole prey (Whole birds, large chunks of meat, antlion grubs, etc)

Large fruits (Melons of any type are a favorite)

Large vegetables (heads of cabbage, heads of broccoli, etc)

Of course, any meat-based items are going to be chosen over non-meat items if offered.

BREEDING

Breeding headcrabs, unlike many other creatures, is generally not something that can be done unless you are a committed hobbyist. Namely because normal headcrabs- even if they are mature- are incapable of breeding whatsoever. The only type of headcrab that can reproduce are the gonarch, the heads of the cast. All headcrabs are biologically ‘male’ until they transform into a gonarch, or lost reproductive organs entirely as a gonome.

Originally a gonarch was produced when there simply wasn’t a gonarch in the group. The largest, strongest individual would then begin to grow and mutate, similar to how many fishes can mutate into a larger or opposite gender if needed.

However, this ability was removed from the headcrab- along with the ability to create proper gonomes- by the combine when they were being used as weapons. Though headcrabs were efficient at taking care of humans, anything larger and more dangerous threated to get out of hand; the combine didn’t want them reproducing out of control and becoming another threat. Incidentally, this is also when their eyes became subdermal as part of a side effect of gene altering.

Because of this, there are only two ways to breed a headcrab. One, and the most common, is to create an artificial gonarch sack. Blueprints were taken from the combine after their defeat that allowed humans to replicate the same technology that allowed them to mass-produce them before.

Artificial gonarch sacs are similar to ‘ghosts hearts’ where they are pseudo-biological, and accept any DNA put into it. Thus, you can insert DNA from any crab to become the ‘gonarch’ or ‘female’ DNA, and either get the smaller male to ‘mount’ the artificial gonarch in a specialized area, or do the male portion artificially as well.

The artificial womb also lets you control how many offspring are produced, as normally a gonarch can produce hundreds of crabs from each successful mating- too many, often, to properly take care of.

Much less common is the artificial transformation of a true gonarch.

Any headcrab can be stimulated to turn into a gonarch with the injection of artificial hormones that trigger the process. It will then take a few weeks to a few months for the crab to transform.

However, this is not recommended for a number of reasons.

First, they are large. They need much more than a house for their territory- they often need several acres, and if it’s deemed unsuitable for a nest, she will refuse to breed and become agitated.

Second, they are very territorial, aggressive, and dominant. If you were a gonome to them before, you still are- which means, in headcrab ranks, she is now above you, socially. Even the most docile crab becomes an aggressive, protective creature who will defend her young and territory with her life. Combine that with their massive size, they are extremely dangerous, even to a professional.

Third, it is very hard to regulate the exact breeding. She will only accept other headcrabs from her cast, and if she deems them unfit, will promptly kill them. And even once they are bred, they can produce several hundred offspring- of which it is very hard to take care of, and even harder to take away from her due to her protective nature.

Lastly, she cannot feed by herself. She requires being fed specialized food through specialized apparatus- and a lot of it.

It’s expensive, costly, and overall dangerous. Thus, artificial gonarch sacs are generally the go-to.

COLORS AND PATTERNS

Just like with previous animals that were domesticated, such as cats, dogs, and goldfish, after a few generations of breeding they began to exhibit unique colors and patterns. After enough time, unique, recognized colors, coats, and even breeds came to be official recognized.

It was made even easier because breeding for exact genes was made simple by means of artificial sacs. Thus, headcrabs come in a vast array of colors and patterns, some even unique to certain subspecies.

The most common colors are pale, albeit warm shades of tans, yellows, and browns. In more rare cases, they can take a more green, purple, or red tint.

Tan, ash, sand, and flaxen were the first recognized distinct colors that were bred onto headcrabs. Chocolate and umber quickly arose from the original tan, with rose following not far behind. When rose was cross-bred back with umber, it resulted in lilac.

Golden arose when sand crabs were bred for vibrancy, and sorrel was the result of a cross of golden and umber.

Flaxen gave way to wheat, and then swamp when bred for the cooler, greenish mutation.

Patterns, too, were something that quickly came about, not long after the first distinct colors began to be recognized.

The first patterns that arose were speckled, striped, and Siamese (named after the similar patterned cat).

Fawned came from a recessive mutation that reversed the pigment cells that caused the spotting pattern on speckled crabs, making them appear lighter instead of darker. Pearled arose when it was cross-bred back with speckled- which usually resulted in speckled, but sometimes in pearled. Because fawned is recessive, the only way to get fawned is to breed with another fawned or a pearled. Breeding a fawned and a speckled results in only speckled or pearled.

Snowshoe, similarly, rose from the same recessive mutation, though this time with Siamese. Similar rules apply; though an ‘in between’ similar to pearled does not exist, as they simply neutral each other out.

Capped rose from Siamese, though it looks similar to bullseye. Bullseye actually came from a very hyper specific mutation of smoked, and is one of the most rare patterns, much moreso than capped or smoked.

Striped crabs are what were bred into both smoke and ticked- with smoke being an increased level of pigment, and ticked being a decreased level.

Marbled is another very rare pattern with dubious origins. Some say it’s a standalone mutation, though others say it originated with smoke, bullseye, and even speckled. However, none of these are confirmed.

Of course, all of the patterns and colors on the charts above are not every single example- there are many more sub-variations of colors and patterns of each type, these are just the main, conformed and recognized ones. They also don’t include any non-recognized crossbreeds or mixes of colors or patterns that aren’t an established record.

UNIQUE BREEDS

Even moreso than recognized colors and patterns are unique breeds of crabs. Though, again, not even breed pictured above are all of them, these are just some of the more noteworthy examples.

Truthfully, nearly all crabs are going to be your standard breed, and not one of the ones pictured. Unless it is either obvious or has had a genetics test, it is safe to assume your crab is a standard.

Two of the most recognized sub-species are the racer and the false poison. These were both bred to be inspired by the combine-created species, the “fast” headcrab and the poison headcrab. Their target audience both began for people who liked them in theory or as an aesthetic, but lacked the funds, ability, or want to deal with the much more dangerous and aggressive ‘true’ versions.

Because they were intended for war, fast headcrabs and poison headcrabs lack almost all social aspects that standards do, are much more aggressive, flighty, wild, and dangerous. Not to mention to potent neurotoxin than poison headcrabs excrete, and the vicious teeth of fast headcrabs. Nowadays theyre both often bred for show or work, but we aren’t focused on them here, simply the standard crab.

Pancakes are some of the harder to recognized subspecies, due to their generally unassuming appearance. They’re named so because they’re typically ‘flatter’ than the normal headcrab, tend to range in the golden-sandy color range, and are described as being ‘soft and sweet’. True to that, that is the original purpose that pancakes were bred for- they’re small, lazy, hyper-friendly headcrabs that almost never attempt to show any signs of aggression unless severely pushed. They’re great for households with kids, or simply people who want a slightly less high-maintenance crab.

They can come in nearly any pattern and color, but again, tend to be in the warm, golden-yellow tone range.

Hunchbacks are a much more narrow breed, since it's recessive, and tend to be not as desirable for no other fact than their appearance. Still, that are amazingly unique. Because of the rarer, recessive nature, they generally only swamp/wheat/greenish colors, and only come in a narrower range of patterns, including speckled, smoked, striped, ticked, and marbled. Though, because of the fact that speckled exist, pearled and fawned theoretically could too- there’s simply yet to be documented evidence of a successful fawned mutation.

Nubbed is another breed caused by a rare mutation that has been successfully bred into a small population. It’s very easy to spot because of it; the mutation clearly causing their front claws to be short, or ‘nubbed’. Nubbed can come in any color or pattern, though they tend to follow the standard/less extreme patterns and colors. This is because it was because of a mutation that actually happened really early in domestication, before a lot of colors or patterns were even bred, and is a recessive mutation making it hard to breed with rarer colors and patterns.

Saddlehorns are an extremly unique and very specialized breed. They’re definitely recognizable by their concave back and the nub near the base of their front claws. They also have a pattern that's unique to only saddlehorns- which is the 'cow spotted' pattern. However, it isn’t just random spots. Though they do have large splotches, they always have a band going around their middle as well. They can come in any pale color, and the markings are usually in the brown to dark, almost black range.

Bunin or “Bubbleheads” are actually a relative of hunchbacks, and not saddlehorns, despite the head similarity. They tend to follow the same rules as hunchbacks, but instead of greenish tones, they come in golds, yellows and warm-orange tones. There has also been confirmed cases of fawned and pearled bubbleheads.

Volkov are a common, albeit specific breed that's bred for it's ferocity, but also it's loyalty. They’re often easy to mistake for a standard, and combined with their relative commonality make them hard to identify to the untrained eye. They appear like standard headcrabs, except they have a slight hunch to them. Their real difference lies in the personality.

As mentioned, they’re loyal and very attentive to the rest of their cast, but have a ferocity and sharp hunting ability that comes with it’s protectiveness. They’re often used as pest control or ‘guard dogs’. This makes them suitable for those jobs, but poor choices for people who live in high population areas or have lots of visitors.

They generally come in browns and blacks, but can truthfully come in any color. They can come in MOST patterns- all but smoked and bullseye.

Batas are another weird breed with a unique patterns, which is the squiggly markings centralized on their rump. They only really come in variations of the color pictured, golds, flaxens, and sandy. Similar to pancakes, they're known for being very complacent with handling, making them good for those with kids or for shows, where the more prominent the markings the better they judge. The difference is the fact that the whole breed itself is prone to many health problems, as it’s very recessive and commonly inbred. Purebreds are pretty expensive.

Silkies or “thinskins” are a breed that came from a mutation that caused their skin to be extremely thin. They're questionable morally to keep, since they're prone to getting wounded very easily, even by their own fangs and claws. Because of this, they have to be debeaked and/or declawed, or must have fang caps at all times and their front claws filed regularly, les they hurt themselves.

They also generally have a myriad of other health problems because of the inbreeding needed to get them, and are prone to several diseases, skin problems, and increased chance of injury.

They generally dont have any patterns, but come in most all colors. However, because of their thin skin, their yellow blood tends to show through, giving any color a yellow tint- and appearing outright yellow on lighter coats.

Munchkins aren’t as much of a breed as they are a mutation, and can come in any color or pattern because of it. There can even be munchkins of other breeds.

Hookclaws are a very newly recognized breed, and still have yet to be fully explored. So far, they can come in pretty much any color, but they never have any patterns aside from a heavy gradient on their back. More research is being done to try and breed patterns onto them.

SUMMARY

Despite their nefarious beginnings, headcrabs quickly arose as a very common, domesticated companion in the post-combine years. Though they aren’t for everybody, they make a fascinating, unique pet for those willing to put in the work and research. Or, even if you aren’t interested in adoption; the history and genetics are a fascinating, competitive, and potentially lucrative field for any young entrepreneur.

So whether you’re looking for a new companion, someone to guard the house while you’re away, or simply a new career in genetics, headcrabs are an amazing species to look into.

#half life #half life 2 #headcrab #headcrabs #speculative biology #alien biology #my art #ask to tag #headcrabguide

4K notes · View notes

just-someone-who-likes-to-write · 4 years ago

Text

Prince Nuada x Angel!Reader (P.3)

(Requested by @blackwoodwinter : Hello! Could i request a story of reader x prince nuada, where the reader is naturally born human with powers & mutations that make her look like an angel. She also works in the BPRD alongside Red and Abe and when she first meets Nuada he mistakes her for a mythical creature, initially not liking her of betraying mythical creatures for humans, but she clearfies she is technically human and shows him little by little there is still good in humanity.)

Warning: None I guess.

Word Count: 2,888

Part1 Part2

It has been weeks since the resurrection incident, (Y/n) had recovered and has rejoined the investigation for the Gargoyle. During the said investigation, Nuada has been keeping an eye on the little human angel, which surprised some because he always showed nothing but disgust towards her and now he will not leave her side unless she expressed wanting to be alone. Of course, he was subtle about it, only those who knew him well enough noticed such actions. Hellboy didn't like the sudden interest the elf prince had in (Y/n), Abraham was between being hopeful that Nuada accepted her as a friend and worried that he was up to something, Liz and Nuala on the other hand had a pretty good picture on what was possibly happening but said nothing only acted when Hellboy needed someone to hold him back or poor Abraham who needed reassurance that everything is fine.

However, unlike what the girls were thinking, Nuada wasn't staying close to (Y/n) because he had feelings for her, but rather was intrigued by her and wanting to know what else she is able to do.

"Can you fly with them?" He asked one day when he caught her stretching her wings, his eyes mesmerized by the feathers that shone against the light.

"Uh… Yeah." She replied a bit startled since she thought she was alone.

"How high can you go?" He took a few steps forward to get a better look at (Y/n)'s wings.

"Well, the highest I went like… 60 story building." You answered self-consciously. Nuada raised a brow of bewilderment.

"Only 60 story?" He repeated confused. "Forgive my bluntness, but I believed you could go higher since your wings look strong."

"I might be." You said with a shrug.

"Might be?"

"Well, I never really went any higher than 60 stories." You looked around to make sure they were alone before whispering. "I'm actually scared to go higher."

"Why is that?" Asked Nuada in bewilderment.

"I'm just afraid that something might go wrong." You answered. "What if I went too high that I can't breathe anymore and lose consciousness and fall to my death, what if my wings got tired and cramped and caused me to fall to my death, or what if I got high enough that-"

"Bunch of human hunters would mistake you for a bird and shot you down to your death?" Said Nuada with a smirk finding (Y/n)'s imagination amusing.

"No, that would be a silly thought." She retorted before continuing. "I was going to say, that I would accidentally be pulled into a plane's engine without me being able to prevent it.

Nuada looked at her with wide eyes of amazement before bursting into laughter.

"Why are you laughing!?" (Y/n) exclaimed with a bright red face, Nuada continued laughing.

Nuada agreed to keep her secret on the condition of allowing him to help her get over her fear, which she reluctantly agreed to. When the weather was clear they would go outside where she would try and fly a bit higher, she would get scared after a few meters away from what she was used to but with practice, she is getting used to it. Of course, flying isn't the only thing he was teaching her. In the training room, he would teach her hand in hand combat and that she should not just depend on her wings. One day she came forward and asked him to teach her how to fight with weapons specifically with sword…that she already has.

"Tell me again how did you obtain such a weapon." Said Nuada as he stared at the sword in her hands that he dared not to touch, for even if it was naked to the human eyes he could sense the holy aura around it.

"It was found centuries by humans who passed it from one generation to the other, then from and organization to the other until it was settling beneath the Vatican vault." She explained. "I remember that we needed further information about a monster we were after, and such information can only be found in the Vatican. It was one of my first missions outside the country, Professor Broom is the one who insisted to take me along with them in hopes that by seeing me 'An Angel' that they would be a bit lenient on us, of course, Hellboy was forbidden to go along with us, so it was just me, the professor and a few protection agents…. I remember that while the professor was looking into the documents I felt a pull towards a locked room that to this day I still don’t know how did I get into without alarming anyone, all I remember is one moment I was standing on one side watching the professor work and then suddenly I was holding the sword in my hand while Vatican security was pointing a gun at me to let the sword go."

Nuada watched her closely as she told the story, her eyes shone slightly as she stared down at her sword.

"And what convinced them to let you keep it?" Asked Nuada pulling her out of her thoughts.

"It was the Pope." She continued. "He said that the sword found its owner. I still don't understand. Of course, there were a lot who objected on letting me keep the word, but the Pope's words were final."

"Does anyone know where the sword came from?"

"They don't know exactly where, each one just said a different story." She sheathed her sword back to her side. "But the one I follow was the one Professor broom told me, That millenniums ago, in the war between Lucifer and god, that an Angel must have lost their weapon causing it to fall on earth…. I'm still skeptical about it but I think the story sounds really cool!"

Nuada just stayed silenced and nodded at her.

Everything was going well for Nuada. Manning trusted him more which allowed him more freedom to even walk outside the building unsupervised, He got to know Abraham more for his sister's sake, and even his relationship with Red become of a friendly rivalry rather than pure trust and distrust, and even humans around him started to become less tense around him, going as far as greeting him in the halls when they saw him or ask him about her day. Everything was going well…until Manning called for an emergency meeting that everyone including the paranormal agents had to be present in it.

"His name is Hugo." Said Abraham as he presented the few blurry pictures they were able to catch on the digital screen.

The moment he uttered the name Nuada could feel his blood grow cold and his heartbeat slightly rise with nervousness. He did his best not to show it. He would be lying to say that he didn't expect to hear about the gargoyle again, but part of him still hoped that the beast would follow his advice and disappear for a few centuries before striking again. The prince tried to ignore the bang of guilt he felt when remembering his first encounter with Hugo and how he let him go. His eyes looked to (Y/n) who was concentrating on whatever Abraham was saying with a serious look in her eyes while her hand rests on her sword, ready to fight. Aside from guilt now he also felt ashamed because he deceived her. The Elven prince stared back into the screen trying to mask his true feeling with a nonchalant stare.

"We found the Gargoyle Coven and asked them about if any one of their members went rouge and they confirmed that Hugo was one of them, that he spent centuries complaining about the humans and even refusing to protect them from harm when they saw them in danger." A few murmurs were filling the room but were quieted down as he continued. "They cast him out of the coven after he not only witnessed the death of an innocent human family but helped the culprit escape."

"How horrible." Said Nuala with a sorrowful look. "What kind of creature would allow such a thing."

Nuada averted his eyes with shame from his sister, looking down at his weapon which he refused to raise against the gargoyle. He was now part of such a crime because he too let the beast flee undetected.

"Listen, we still don't know what is his weakness since every book we had said that gargoyles are invisible…" Said Red earning everyone's attention. "Except against one thing and its sunlight, when it touches them they turn to stone, it still doesn't mean they are dead, they just become immobile until nightfall. So our best option is to find him, tie him down until sunrise, and when he turns to stone we break him to pieces!"

When he said the last part he slammed his stone fist against the table breaking it.

"…Oops…" He said as he took a step back.

"You know Red.." Called (Y/n). "I was really admiring your plan, that you finally said something that didn't involve shooting something down, but then you go and do this."

Her remark made the people in the room laugh or giggle, except Nuada who was trying to figure out what to do and how. Because if they did manage to catch the beast he will blurb out that he had helped him escape, which will lose him to lose everything he has now. Respect, Trust, and loyalty. The humans would probably lock him back with no hope of a second chance, his sister would look at him with disgust… and (Y/n) would never want to be near him again.

No, he needed to do something and fast.

---

"What is troubling you brother?" Asked Nuala as she entered his room.

"Nothing is troubling me." He lied skillfully.

He was in the middle of preparing for leaving with the others to look for the gargoyle. They had been informed of a large group of humans going missing around a specific area in the city so they planned to make different search parties each one lead by either Hellboy, Abraham, (Y/n), or him. His plan however was simple, slowly separate from the human group, search for a possible lead to Hugo, when he finds the Gargoyle he will convince him to leave the city. Nuala's eyes narrowed at her brother, who still has his back to her.

"I sensed how agitated you were during the meeting." She said with her arms crossed. Nuada paused for a moment before continuing his work.

"It was just the fact that I have to work with humans." He lied swiftly but Nuala didn't believe him.

"Brother…" She called timidly, he just hummed in response. "Did you do something you shouldn't have done?"

Nuala came forward to place her hand on her brother's shoulder in hopes of learning what he was hiding, but Nuada dodged her hand, which fell in mid-air. His sister froze when she saw the harsh glare he gave her.

"You are my sister, and I love you dearly… But…" He growled. "If you tried to read my mind again without permission, I'm afraid I won't be so kind."

He then turns around to leave his stunned sister in his room, her eyes wide because Nuada rarely becomes angry with her, but also because his action reminded her of when they were little, he would avoid her like the plague whenever he does something he shouldn't, like stealing pastry goods or breaking something valuable, but they were adults now and for Nuada avoiding her touch let alone give her such a glare means that whatever he was hiding was big, which makes her very worried.

"What are you doing Brother." She said to no one in the empty room.

---

Nuada was wearing a cloak to blend easily with the shadows whenever a human was about to see him. From the device, in his ear, Nuada could hear the human agents talking among themselves whether it was a casual conversation or just stating what they were seeing as suspicious, only rarely did they talk to him, and when they do it is only to ask him if he is seeing anything. He had enough when he saw that in a couple of hours they will have to go back, so Nuada told the humans that he was going to search from the buildings surface to have a better look at the dark sky to catch the Gargoyle if he was by chance flying over them. they trusted him and just told him to inform him if he saw anything so they can inform the other groups and come to help him. Nuada shook the bit of guilt he felt at the blind trust that these humans have given him, and continued jumping form a building to the other, when he deemed himself far enough he used the fire escape to go back down and go somewhere a bit more open for the Gargoyle to fly in freely. Nuada had seen how big Hugo was, not to mention the length of his wings, knowing that he would need an open place to be able to continue his kidnapping easily, Nuada had led the humans to an area that was closed, to keep them away and safe.

He was walking on the side of the road looking up to the sky and keeping his senses sharp, to any movement near him. He kept walking until he reached a park. He was outside by the high iron fences, his eyes glanced to the lack of green graces, how the ground was filled with brown spots, most of the trees were dead or dying, even the children's ground was dirty and broken. A small bush of yellow flowers caught his attention, the flowers were growing on the small space between the iron fence bars, and they were slightly beaking out in the sidewalk. He didn't know why but he wanted to at least feel the small petals of the flowers, he knelt and reached for them but before his fingertips could someone called for him.

"Don't pick the flower!" A small voice of a little girl who was running towards him.

Nuada quickly took a step back and he tugged his hood down to assure that his face wasn't visible, but he still could see the little girl who was kneeling down to inspect the flowers. She then looked up to him.

"I'm sorry for scaring your mister." Her tiny voice said politely. He just nodded in response to show that it was alright.

Nuada watched as the little girl pulled out a worn-out plastic bottle which was filled with water. She opened the cap and proceeded to pour an amount that was obviously too much for the flower to absorb, but she did know that. When the bottle was half empty she stopped, and gave a satisfied nod at her work before closing the bottle again.

"There used to be a lot of flowers, but after last summer almost all of them died because no one was there to take care of them…" The little girl explained. "So I decided that do it myself!"

She gave Nuada, who was staring at her with interest, a big proud smile at what she just said. The prince couldn't help the small smile that graced his lips.

"What is your name little one?" He asked gently.

"My name is Sophie."

"Well, Sophie, I must say that what you are doing is admirable." He said sincerely. The girl titled her head.

"What does that mean?" she asked confused. He chuckled at her nativity.

"It means good." he explained as simply as he could. "What you are doing is very good."

The girl's eyes widened in realization before giggling, delighted to being praised by a stranger. He was still curious about something.

"Why are you watering them at night?" He asked.

"Oh, My mom grounded me today and I couldn't go and water them, so I sneaked out." She said as if she was caught doing something wrong… which she was.

"It is dangerous to go into the night this late you need to return home now." Nuada said in a soft yet stern manner. The Girl's smile dropped, replaced by a sad frown.

"B...But my flowers…"

"Your flowers can survive till morning and I am sure if you told your mother she will understand." He said. "But sneaking out late at night with no one knowing your location, now go home now, it's dangerous."

The little girl looked as if she was going to say something but refrained from doing so and she turned and ran away. Nuada as well turned on his heel to continue his search for the Gargoyle. However, Nuada failed to notice how the little girl stopped her track after she thought she was far enough from him, and when she saw him turn in a corner and disappear the little girl returned back to the park to tend to the rest of her flowers, disobeying the stranger's orders, believing that she will be safe enough to water a few more flowers.

Unaware of the glowing red eyes that are watching her from afar.

---

I hope all of you enjoyed this part and will look forward for more.

Reminder Requests are closed.

#prince nuada x reader #nuada x reader #hellboy the golden army #hellboy 2 the golden army

244 notes · View notes

hungarianbee · 4 years ago

Text

Way of the Witcher: bits of lore

Disclaimer: Post contains spoilers to the Witcher games These things may be canon-typical, but the following trigger warnings apply if you want to check out the cards: gore, monster dismemberment, needles, body horror, insects and spiders

“In a world plagued by horrors and monstrosities humanity desperately needed a new type of weapon to turn back the tide. Created by ingenious Alzur, witchers — professional monster slayers of exceptional strength, speed, and agility were tasked to end the threat once and for all. Organized into different schools they honed their craft and passed their knowledge onto novices in training. Some of them were destined to become the legendary heroes and protectors of humanity. Others — the very thing they were supposed to fight…”

Since the gwent expansion was anounced I followed it with rapt attention; every bit of lore is a gem in my eyes. I decided to write down my thoughts of the cards and lore pieces revealed in a post. Share that knowledge around, amirite?

The post references Gwent cards which were leaked (2020 november-december). The theme is mutation and everything that comes with it; namely sweet-sweet lore of the lesser known witcher schools: the Bears, Cats, Vipers and Griffins.

Tucker in, under the cut there is 4.5k analysis of each card that came out.

We’re starting with a theme, then work our way throught the 4 schools (each contain the following: a leader, a mentor, an adept, a general witcher, a specific job, an item, a school relevant monster, 2 known witchers and a location), then go through a Witcher 1 throwback, Salamandra, and round it with a few new monsters and neutral cards.

While I describe most of the cards concisely and all the known witchers and locations are on my blog, you might want to look the cards in their (small) glory: [DO IT HERE]

Sounds good? Here we go!

Edit: [this source is better]

The theme is mutation - be it monsters created by transmutation, witchers or salamadra

If that is true, there are monster cards that seemingly stand out: the Succubus and the Phooca

If we are to believe that they do connect to the mutation theme, then

(1) we can conclude that Phoocas (a rare, and more dangerous form of Nekkers; they can pull your head off by sheer force, watch out) are a natural mutation of the original species,

(2) but we’re still left with the Succubi (an inherently demonic creature). They might have chosen it because of its appearance: succubi have horns and goat-like legs. (Note: in the graphic novel “House of Glass” the succubus character has wings, but lacks hooves. In that sense, she could be mutated.)

Breaking it down into factions/schools (some of the cards can be paired up; these cards are interpreted together):

School of the Viper: starting with the vipers, because they are my favourite

Viper Witcher Mentor & Viper Witcher Adept: the flavour text says that the Viper mentors are exceptionally cold and ruthless, and that’s underlined by the story the art tells: the mentor busies himself with sharpening a blade, and in the background we can see the adept attempting to kill his best friend goat, as was ordered. The mentor watches this from the corner of his eye. Young Vipers are to kill their pets (which they nurtured for years) before becoming a fully-fledged witcher. The latter could mean that the boy depicted on the card hasn’t even gone through the Trial of Grasses.

Viper Witcher: On the card we see an unknown Viper crouching over a royalty he killed. I feel like this type of card is meant to represent what we think a general Witcher of said school would be like. Apparently Vipers just like to slay the nobility *shrug*. The flavour text informs us, that Vipers call their two swords “fangs”, and that their style consists of fast and furious attack aimed to overwhelm the enemy.

Viper Witcher Alchemist: Every school has a specialty; Vipers are proficient in potion or poison making. The right side of the alchemist’s face seems to have healed burn marks; a blown up concoction might have caused it.

Ivar Evil-Eye: So far there’s little to know about Ivar. He was either the Master of the Viper Keep, or the founder himself (gwent suggests the latter). He’s described as heavily scarred (facial scars suggests burns and slash marks too), and each of them has a terrible story to tell.

Warritt the All-Seeing: Warritt is a (newly introduced) Viper with heavy disfiguration to the upper part of his face: his eyes are sealed shut (possibly by burn marks, though his hair remains intact). The art shows Warritt drawing a modified version of the Supirre sign in the air to help with his loss of sight. As the wiki says: “Supirre is a Sign used for eavesdropping. Drawn on a solid surface, it allows the people near this surface to listen nearby conversations which would be normally inaudible due to the distance or background noise.” It was only used in Sapkowsky’s second volume of the Hussite trilogy (not yet translated to English), which is entirely separate from the Witcher novels.

Kolgrim: Fate laughed at this Viper. As a kid he was swapped by a weeper, saved by a witcher, than rejected by his own mother who believed that the fake child was the real one. Later, as a grown witcher Ivar instructed him to find a lost weapon diagram. On his journey he was accused - ironically - in White Orchard of kidnapping a child. Invoking a Temerian law, Kolgrim was told to cleanse their crypt (as seen on the card) then he can go. The truth is revealed in Witcher 3 - Kolgrim was beheaded by the villagers before he could even step into the crypt. To add insult to injury: the child was eaten by a drowner. The gwent card therefore shows the optimistic outcome: that Kolgrim reached the crypt and passed in battle. And what’s up with a crypt full of wraiths anyway? White Orchard is shady, guys. (Lil’ trivia: Kolgrim’s eyes are yellow-green.)

Vypper: Basically an overgrown snake that likes damp marshes (they even fight the local kikimores for territory). They only relate to the mutation theme by their nature - they resemble the “school’s animal”.

Gorthur Gvaed: The Bloodgate Keep is located in the chasms of the Tir Tochair mountains. It’s built so high were you to look down from the bridge leading into the keep, you would only see fog (one could wonder how the vipers trained in these conditions). The bridge is made so that you’d have to cross the lookout tower - it might have served as a check in spot. The post itself is circled by the stone coils of a snake; the top is open and has a huge lit bonfire in the middle for warmth-keeping and possibly signaling. Unluckily, it didn’t stop the Usurper’s army from destroying the keep.

Coated Weapons: They leaned heavily into the alchemy and assassin side of the school. Vipers coat their blades with an acidic liquid, so they can kill a man with a nick of it.

School of the Cat:

Cat Witcher Mentor & Cat Witcher Adept: On the adept card we can see a young Cat walking the tightrope blindfolded (they start with close to the ground and slowly increase the distance with time); the mentor is looking up at him. Like the Vipers, Cat mentors are nonchalant about risking the kids as seen from the flavour text: “If you fall, it’s over. Your nine lives are up, kid.” Furthermore, the background of the Cat Witcher Adept card shows the not yet destroyed Stygga Citadel. The Cat Witcher Mentor is in the same scene and we can see lots of potatoes and cabbages; cats definitely eat their veggies.

Cat Witcher: The card shows a Cat in the heat of battle mid-jump; his hood is up, blood is flying everywhere. The flavour text emphasizes that cats are known for their mad bloodlust, not stopping killing even after the enemy capitulated.

Cat Witcher Saboteur: A Cat perches next to the window, a smoking bomb in hand, eavesdropping on nobles. A rope is hung from somewhere out of the pic, possibly for a quick exit. Vesemir comments that these are many-a deeds the cats did that taint the reputation of witchers.

Gezras of Leyda: Gezras is a not yet known redheaded Cat witcher. Following the pattern he seems to be the founder of the Cat School. His flavour text shows that even back then (when the mutagens made Cats emotionless) they were inclined to dislike humans: “Take a contract from Aen Seidhe over a dh’oine any day, as you’re far less likely to receive a knife between the ribs in place of coin.”

Brehen: Now this cat embodies the Cat madness. He’s known as the Cat of Iello because he massacred everyone there. He was consequently shunned by all the schools, and he was even convinced that Vesemir put a kill order on his head. He met Geralt later in the 1240s on his way to claim the bounty for the princess. Thinking that Geralt was there to rob him of his chance of the bounty, Brehen took a priestess as hostage (this is what we see on the gwent card). Geralt managed to convince him to put away the blade, and they parted without crossing blades. When meeting with the striga he scoffed into her face that “she won’t be his first royal”. But his luck ran out. The Temerians buried him and fabricated the story of a cowardly witcher stealing their coin. I’m halfway convinced we see Brehen in the netflix series.

Gaetan: This boy broke into the fandom like a bulldozer. After the folks in Honorton cheated him of his pay and tried to kill him, Gaetan flew into rage and killed everyone there except Millie, a girl who reminded him of his sister. That’s the scene we see on the card. And then Geralt robs/kills him.

Saber-Tooth Tiger (Stealth): Another huge animal/monster related to the school. It’s story is this: “The prized possession of royal menagerie, until a commando of Scoia’tael assaulted the exhibition, released the beast, and set it upon its cruel masters. Since that day, it has acquired a selective taste for human flesh.” Another cat turning against humans.

Stygga Castle: An outside view of what we already saw on the Cat Witcher Adept card. It’s located on a cliff, and the sun shines into it just right (so that the Cats can bask in the light). The walls form a circle where they shelter the inner grounds, and a bigger tower emerges in the middle. The Castle could be reached by the thin bridge connecting it to the mainland, or by the cliffs (if one is brave enough).

Making a Bomb: Cats seem to have a specialty in bombs. Guess where Lambert got his interest from *winkwink*

School of the Griffin: lots of pairs in this one

Griffin Witcher Mentor & Griffin Witcher Adept: Compared to the other schools, this pairing is tame - the adept is climbing a tree to retrieve a crossbow bolt. We can see the mentor in the background. On the mentor card the adept waves down with the retrieved crossbow bolt in hand. It shows a kind of comradeship that’s not present in the other 3 schools. The flavour text emphasizes the importance of knowledge. Students are afforded to choose their final Trial: recite the entire Liber Tenebrum (Book of Shadows; one of Keldar’s favourite books) or steal a griffin’s egg. Noone’s chosen the former.

Griffin Witcher: The witcher is shown shooting down a griffin. According to the flavour text they prefer hunting with silver-tipped arrowheads instead of swords.

Archgriffin & Griffin Witcher Ranger: On the Griffin Ranger card we see the witcher crouching over track marks. On the archgriffin card he found the albino (or very old) monster, who’s already killed someone (probably a lumberjack, judging by the axe). According to the flavour text, Griffin Witchers are trained to be professional trackers; nothing can stop them to reach their prey. Even though archgriffins are considered the embodiment of courage, loyalty and fighting spirit, the gwent card corrects the notion that the Griffin Witcher were named after the monster. In truth, they got the name in honour of their founder’s mentor, a knight named Gryphon.

Erland of Larvik: Continuing the trend, Erland is the founder of the Griffin School (one of the two that are confirmed 100%). He’s from the first generation of witcher, mutated by Alzur himself. After the Order began fracturing he had a confrontation with Arnaghan (who’ll be the founder of the bear school). Arnaghad almost killed one of his brothers, slashed Erland across the face then parted ways with the Order and left Morgraig Castle with his own group. Seeing that the the remaining witchers couldn’t go on like that, he grabbed his 13 best friend and left to Kaer Seren, where (after purging it from spectres) he founded the Griffin School which focused on magic, preparedness and flexibility. His teaching emphasized knightly values (mimicking his long-dead mentor, a knight named Gryphon) in hopes that it would make future witchers’ life easier. It didn’t.

Coen & Keldar: The cards are mainly connected by background. Coen is finished killing what appears to be an albino arachas (but it’s definitely an insectoid), while Keldar’s taking notes. We can rightly assume that he’s updating their bestiary, since he’s one of the teachers/mentors who focus on gathering and sharing knowledge. Coen’s flexibility shows in the flavour text: “There is no such thing as a fair fight. Every advantage and every opportunity that arises is used in combat.” Not very knightly, is it?

Kaer Seren: The “Star Keep” Erland and his friends fled to. It was used by the Order’s mages to mutate witchers (that’s why it was haunted by spectres). It’s located at the edge of the Dragon mountains by the sea between Poviss and Kovir. It’s said to possess the great library, which later mages tried to get for themselves. They messed up: by bringing down an avalanche on the Keep, that knowledge was destroyed. The keep was badly damaged and many witchers died.

Target Practice: The Griffin School’s specialty is their precise aim - they “can split an apple in two from a hundred paces”.

School of the Bear:

Bear Witcher Mentor & Bear Witcher Adept: The adept card shows that young witcher are taught to catch fish by hand (just like their school relevant animal). On the mentor card the elder witcher leads a group of younglings in the mountains; possibly out to teach tracking. The cards are connected by flavour text. The young Bear witcher-would-be’s need to complete the Trial of the Mountain, which consists of them climbing Mount Gorgon (also known as the Devil Mountain; it is the highest peak of the Amell range) to retrieve a runestone. The Trial often ends with the kids frozen to death. The Bear Mentor card’s flavour confirms it: “If you’re unsure of the way, just keep a lookout for markers - the frozen corpses of would-be witchers.” This sounds ominous - don’t they collect their fallen?

Bear Witcher: Bears are solitary hunters as seen in the flavour text: “life alone can be tough”. The witcher in the pic just dismembered what looks like a ghoul (with a tail?).

Bear Witcher Quartermaster: This one I like. The Quartermaster is an amputee (missing one of his arms, which was taken by a bear; must have won that fight one-handed), yet they still found a job for him where he can be useful. His flavour text suggest he likes Mahakam mead.

Arnaghad: The founder of the Bear School, he never felt kinship with his fellow witchers. After attacking a witcher named Rhys over a contract, wounding him deeply from shoulder to waist, he returned to Morgraig, attacked Erland then left with his possé to found the Bear School - Haern Caduch - in the Amell Mountains. Later he almost died in a betrayal, which resulted in another schism and the foundation of the Viper School.

Gerd: Gerd’s a legendary witcher who fled to Skellige after allying with a Usurper instead of his daughter, who later issued a warrant for his arrest. He has a busy time in Skellige: first slaying a dragon, befriending the Jarl Torgeir, killing a bunch of sirens, losing so many weapon diagrams you wouldn’t believe, losing half his pay and silver sword on gwent, escaping Nilfgaard and managing to slay a striga, killing some of his pursuers, only to be caught up in the siege of Torgeir’s castle, where he died in the ruins. On the card he’s showing Bear-typical strength: he’s tearing apart a siren with his bear hands.

Junod of Belhaven: Junod had a dubious background, but was thought to be the child of a brave dwarf and a giantess. He’s a huge man, with a big bushy beard and bald head. His sobriquet is false; he took it after Ivo, because he liked the ring of it. He was known as a strict haggler and a bit of a gambler. In 1243 he took a contract in hopes of cash (he wanted to forge the Grandmaster Ursine Armour). The subterranean monster was said to live in the caverns. Junod drew bear signs and wrote a warning on the wall (this is the scene we see on the card). He was however ill-prepared; the beast turned out to be a shaelmaar (a type of relic Gaetan slew once) that killed him in that very cavern.

Dire Bear: Once again related to the school in question, the Dire Bear is stuck with so much weaponry that it looks like a walking armory. Lots of witchers must have tried to slay it, yet it still kicks - just like Bear Witchers, it’s resilient till the very end.

Haern Caduch: Built into the side of the Amell Mountains, it’s the coldest environment of all the schools. As with the other schools, the Bears were forced out of it due to folk riots. It was left in disrepair to be buried under snow and ice (as seen on the card). It’s name could be translated as “Piercing Whiskers”.

Armor Up: As Bear’s are more likely to stand in the way of attack than dodge, they need to wear a heavy armour at all times.

Salamandra:

Roland Bleinheim & Gellert Bleinheim: Witcher 1 characters. They are thought to be brothers, leading the Salamandra organization. As drug lords one heads the fisstech operation in Vizima’s sewers (Roland), the other in the swamps (Gellert). The flavour text pretty much matches: both of them wondering what the other one is doing.

Salamandra Mage: The art itself was already leaked in China around 2 years back, and there were a few theories. One of them was that the man depicted is Zerrikanian, and I think that’s correct. Both the facial tattoo, darker skin, thinly braided hair and fire magic points in that direction. Azar Javed (a known Salamandra fire mage) happens to be a Zerrikanian escapee too.

Salamandra Lackey: A girl with the Salamandra-stapled mask runs from a city guard. The flavour text says the following: “Lackeys are expected to perform their first five jobs for no pay, demonstrating their passion for the gig.” The organization monitors from the beginning that only those remain who are extremely loyal to their cause.

Fallen Rayla: A little background for those who are unfamiliar with her: Rayla of Lyria was a veteran of the Nilgaardian Wars. She harbours anti-nonhuman sentiments after she was captured by Scoia’taels and severely maimed. The Rayla we see on the card is a mutant - in Witcher 1 she was supposedly shot down by Scoia’tael, and Salamandra found her close to death, subjected her to mutation. She was killed by Geralt.

Salamander: The card shows a bright blue spotted salamander. It has two tails and heads (possibly grown together?). The Salamander is a symbol of the organization. Metaphorically speaking it could mean, that Salamandra thought of itself as something untouchable: “best to avoid petting them, as the salamander, when threatened, secretes a deadly toxin”.

Failed Experiment: The card - ironically - thrives when it’s poisoned. The “experiment” only resembles a human in shape. It’s clutching the table ends, as if trying to escape still. It’s fair to assume that they later dissected it: “even failed experiments can serve a purpose”.

Salamandra Abomination: A step further from the failed experiment - we see the results of pushing science’s boundaries. Only the skull is left intact, everything else of the body is covered with insectoid-like growths.

Stolen Mutagens: Gruesome organ harvesting. The witcher heart (?) glows, which is either an artistic decision (probable) or the mages sent magic into the body, and the mutagens light up (like angiographia). Three types of mutagens can be harvested: red (strength), blue (magic) or green (resilience). I headcanon that the amount they inject of the three types can vary - that’s how you get strength inclined witchers like the wolves (red), or big ass mothers like the bears (green).

Salamandra Hideout: There are multiple hideouts in Witcher 1 (outskirt of Visima, crypt in sewers and one in the trade quarters). The one depicted here is the fisstech lab in the sewers. It shows a dimly lit, cobwebbed room. There’s an elevation where a body lays on the table. The elevation’s floor is gridded, so the blood and other fluids can freely flow down into the sewer water, where many bodies are already discarded recklessly.

Neutral:

Alzur & Viy & Koshchey: Alzur was a charismatic mage and spell inventor, who created many horrible monsters, like the koshchey (with the spell: Alzur’s Double Cross) and the Viy (a huge centipede-like insectoid). He was also the one who did the lion’s share of work with the witcher’s mutation.

Cosimo Malaspina: Cosimo was the teacher of Alzur. He was known for his knowledge in hybridization and genetic modification. Him and Alzur were the true creators of the witchers sect. On the gwent card, three man are shown prodding at a mutated body. Cosimo (the old dude) is in the middle, Alzur might be the one on the left and that leaves Idarran on the right. His flavour text paints him as cold and clinical, someone without empathy: “Children keep asking him for gifts. He doesn’t know why, but it really helps with finding subjects for his experiments.”

Idarran of Ulivo & Idr & Wererat: Idarran was one of the contributers of the witcher experiments. He’s an expert in hybridization and genetic modification, whose teacher was Alzur. He was a pale kid who lived in the canals of Vizima and experimented on rats at the age of 5. He found beauty in gruesome creations, like the Wererat (a human-sized rat on roids) and the Idr (a big centipede-like insectoid). He’s disdained by Geralt for his many monsters.

Triangle within a Triangle: It’s a magic spell used to introduce a series of mutations and to greatly increase the mass of a given body. That way they can create huge monstrosities, like the koshchey. Adepts often confuse it with a pentagram which can lead to infernal disasters.

Selective mutation: The card shows a close up of a young man’s eyes - one mutated (catlike) one human. His skin shows his high toxicity level, ashen with prominent veins. He’s held down as alchemists prepare to inject a yellow concoction into the human eye. It’s possible that after the success of witchers the mages tried to recreate the changes in smaller scale, then unmake it in turn, unsuccessfully.

Witcher Student: This is not really a card, but I included it anyway. The card’s ability is - ironically - doomed, and to add insult to injury, its flavour text is the following well-known fact: “Four out of ten boys survive… at most.” It’s also a point for black humour that the gwent commentators added: the Trial of Grasses card boosts this unit significantly.

Berengar: He’s a Wolf School Witcher who blamed his school for denying him a normal life and consequently abandoned them. In Witcher 1 Geralt can decide to kill or spare him. In a letter he admits that he was a coward because he betrayed Kaer Morhen and worked with Salamadra in hope that they can undo his mutation. His card references a questline in Witcher 1, where he tried to reason with the vodyanoi (~lovecraftian fish people) to spare the village’s prize-winning cow, named Strawberry. This is non-canon; in the game Geralt takes over the quest to do this instead.

Leo: Another Witcher 1 character. He was an orphan taken in by Vesemir. He was a kind-hearted but hot-headed man, who had all the training but not the mutations and the experience - he never killed a man. The flavour text of his gwent card kind of mocks his death: “He would have caught the arrow if he only had some heads-up.” He’s burned on a pyre and his cenotaph can be found south of Kaer Morhen.

Geralt: Quen: The last classical sign that wasn’t yet a card. In the art, Geralt is wearing the Manticore armour

Snowdrop: She’s a not yet seen character; impish looking female bard with light blond hair (flowers braided on the side) who plays a medieval version of the fiddle to a rooster. There’s a horseshoe hanging from the hem of his pants. She’s also seen in the gwent: journey #3 launch trailer. She’s narrating that she was saved by Alzur. Alzur told her about his plans of creating witchers to fight the beasts of the Continent, and she admired him so much she spread his story (”let me tell you about the greatest sorceress to ever lived”). Their story will unveil in the next week, I’ll probably update accordingly. It’s also interesting that Alzur says in the gwent intro (regarding witchers): “Bards will toil to do justice to their feats.” As if his own successes and experiences will be mirrored in his creations. Projecting much?

Monsters:

Viy & Idr: both of them are centipede-like insectoids conjured by infamous mages (see: Alzur and Idarran)

Wererat: same can be said about this one. Idarran experimented on Vizima’s sewer rats since the age of 5. This human sized abomination was the end result.

Succubus: We already discussed how the “Succubus” doesn’t fit the theme. Other interesting thing is the surrounding of her - in the background we can see a skull full of some kinda of dark liquid; she’s also holding a goblet. I’m not saying she’s drinking blood, but if she does, it would shed some questions as succubi don’t need to drink blood at all.

Phooca: As nekkers’ rare big brother, phoocas are ogroids that have the strength to rip a man’s head off with their bear hands. According to the wiki, in Celtic folklore they are regarded as shapeshifting fairies.

Koshchey: A witcher 1 boss, koshcheys are spider-like abominations summoned by mages. The woman standing her ground in the picture is Visenna (Geralt’s druid mom). In the story she’s the one to kill the first koshchey ever created.

Spontaneous Evolution: Under the Red Moon the wolf mutated into an amalgamation of eyes and teeth. Malaspina possibly added something to the mix that proved unstable. The card’s name is kind of ironic - this change is not spontaneous (it was induced) but could be related to evolution (it would imply that this form is somehow advantageous to the current environment and helps adaptation). (Note: in my opinion spontaneous generation would be a better term: it’s the thought that living creatures could arise from nonliving matter.)

Hybrid: the card shows a two-headed wolf or dog. Pretty straight-forward.

Chimera: A creature created my Cosimo Malaspina. He combines the genes of a fiend and griffin, then added a trace of insectoid and wyvern. It kind of looks like a furred wyvern with antlers. Interestingly the frightener (an insectoid; a rare result of magical experiment) is also called a chimera.

Dol Dhu Lokke: a new monster lair location. The depending on how you translate “lokke” the Elder can be read as “black valley place” or “alluring black valley”. It’s so dangerous - housing many-a horrors - that even a witcher thinks twice before going near it.

Interesting tidbits

Coen has hair, which is weird because so far he was described in all sources as bald.

There used to be a card that was also called Viper Witcher, which is now referred to as “Kingslayer”

The Bear Witcher’s face was drawn after one of CDPR’s employee.

The Koshchey’s card title has a typo: “Koschchey”.

Easter eggs (mainly in flavour text)

The Spontaneous Evolution card references The Powerpuff Girls intro: “Professor Malaspina accidentally added an extra ingredient to the concoction - compound X.”

The Bear Witcher card might reference a song of Baloo from the Jungle Book (The Bare Necessities): “Life alone on the road can be tough - be sure to bring all the bare necessities.”

#my shit #the witcher #gwent #witcher meta #witcher lore #i worked really hard on this #i hope it shows lol #if y'all have any thoughts i'd be happy to hear about them #cross my heart i don't bite

102 notes · View notes

jauneda1 · 3 years ago

Text

ANNIHILATION AU Remake

First Night part 1

TIME 19:45: Jaune was holding a unconscious Ruby Rose Bridal style running from the many horrors behind him. People attack other people they're eating other people Jaune couldn't even call them human anymore. "When did it get this bad."

Time 4:25: Jaune had sprung awake he didn't know why he woke up earlier then he would. So might as well do his morning routine then check up on any homework. After his run and endurance training, he moved to sword training and noticed that quite a few students where in the medical ward. He heard it started 2 weeks that a new form of Flu is going around students are required to wear mask and gloves, and to keep distance from each other during class. It was new for everyone but it made classes even more difficult to sit through especially Oobleck's class.

Time 10:37: Jaune was sitting in the left hand corner he had laid claim on after the social distancing which in all honesty didn't matter. It was only his team, Rwby, Cfvy, and what's left of Crdl. They're teammate Sky Lark caught the new flu going around. They where all in Combat class with Primary teacher Glynda Goodwitch and secondary teacher Raven Branwen. Jaune was going to fight Yang which if where gonna be honest is cruel and unusual punishment because Jaune may be better then he was when he came to Beacon. That doesn't mean shit when you gotta 1v1 the temptress/bully/sexist girl at Beacon outside of her mom and her sick boots dominating personality. Oh Jaune knew this was gonna hurt so good depending on how hard she hit him

Yang: "Okay Lady killer you ready to get down and dirty?"

Jaune: "You have no idea- I mean I'm ready when you are."

Jaune Arc is a slight masochist.

Before the two could get down to it everyone in the rooms Scroll's went off a emergency broadcast stating that mass violence has broken out in the city of Vale along with Rioting and mass cannibalism. Both teachers where unsure of what to do untill over the loud speaker Professor Ozpin spoke in a frantic and rushed voice announcing that they're fellow students who where sick in the medical ward are now up and attacking fellow students. Please move back to your dorms and wait for further instructions. We are looking towards evacuating the students if we are unable to contain the situation. Just as that was said three students ran into the room and closed the door behind them. Trying to hold back whatever chased them in here.

As everyone was trying to figure out what to do because if everything was true then how where they gonna get out of the combat room. Raven then spoke about how the combat room leads into the outside pavilion for larger scale battles. That pavilion leads towards the courtyard then the dorms.

Time 16:45: Everyone is tired and defeated sitting inside team Rwby's dorm. With Ms.Branwen and Goodwitch in tow. The adults where completely unable to even begin to explain what's going on the only people who made it out of combat class. Are team Rwby without Yang and Ruby. Jnpr, missing Jaune. All of team Cfvy with the exception of Yatsuhashi. Sadly all of team Crdl, the students that ran into there combat class. They where attacked they all saw Sky Lark attack his own team leader with a bite to the jugular. This sent a sense absolutely sorrow and fear in everyone present. No one saw or really believed that this was serious. Jaune had ran forward and bashed Sky off of Cardin but this did nothing to help the dying student. Sky was very violent to Jaune rushing him and hitting his shield. Unable to force Jaune back, so Jaune simply pushed him off until his own teammate Russell hit him in the side of the head with the butt of his weapon. This knocked the block off of Sky but he still shot up and tackled Russell into a door that was closed but when the two went through they where surrounded by infected who torn Sky apart and began to flood the ballroom. Jaune was completely cut off from everyone. He had no choice but to push past them if possible.

Jaune, Yang, and Ruby where completely cut off from the group and right now Jaune was holding off a doorway of atleast 4 infected. As the two sister got the door open he knew that he might not be able to run over to them with them right behind him. Then the pain shot through Jaune like a gun shot. One of the infected had fell down got Jaune on the side. Right above the hip. He let out a scream and this caused them both to turn around Ruby scream out to him and Jaune yelling back to them his pleas telling them to go begin to die out. The infected is still tearing into his side. Yang told Ruby to stay here as she gets to work helping Jaune killing the 3 on his shield then grabbing the one biting him off. Jaune right at this moment was losing a lot of blood but they needed to get out of there.

Time 20:25: Jaune,Yang and Ruby got back to the group but now they're faces with a new hardship Jaune infection and the evacuation. They where told that in the next thirty minutes they needed to be at the launch pad for evacuation. The efforts to save Beacon academy are pointless people in the city still seem to be holding out at the hospital and police station. Also city hall seems to be still standing but no confirmation on the survivors the military corporation URA (United Remnant Army) is sending in it's mercenaries to help in evacuating and containing this phenomenon. Everyone knew that Jaune being bitten was a liability but for some reason Jaune hasn't turned. Everyone that has turned into one of the infected it happened in mere seconds after being bitten. The only exception is when the brain is damaged. In Russell's case his head slammed up against a door and the concrete floor before he was devoured. While Cardin got back up and started to attack the living that's how they lost Yatsuhashi.

They needed to know if it was okay to push forward with Jaune being infected and now from what they have heard. They're seems to be a mutation in some infected they're become faster and more violent. Being able to run and jump several meters in the air to catch fleeing pray. Do they leave they're friend or bring him along?

End off Ch 1 part 1

#jaune arc #rwby fanfiction #rwby #yang xiao long #ruby rose #raven branwen #zombie #major character injury #major character death

7 notes · View notes

haru-sen · 3 years ago

Text

IAL: Mandalorians 2

Thanks, 3-D Render Anon, with your adorable voodoo dolls. That was the serotonin I needed.

I should be working, but I’m posting this. The Mando’a phrases and cultural dishes are from Wookieepedia. I’ll post the actual translations in the fic, but I don’t have time right now.

You woke up in a tent, your entire body aching. You were tucked under some blankets, a bedroll under your head. Your sabers were still on your belt.

“Query: are you done yet?” HK-53 asked, from overhead. “Also, are you sure I can’t kill these Mandalorians?”

“I am going to track down that pacifist module and shove it right up your accessory port,” you muttered. “Just you wait-”

“Shock: Master, how could you threaten your loyal droid this way? When did Master get so cruel? I am very proud of you!”

Laughing, you held your head for a moment. “What happened?”

“Recollection: You collapsed. The blue-armored meatbag injected you with kolto, and carried you here. The black-armored meatbag kept his gun on me, and I made sure neither of them did strange things to your person while you were inconveniently indisposed. It has been a little over a standardized hour since you lost consciousness.”

You sat up slowly. The sun was still up. “Where are we?”

“The witch is alive.”

You blinked, the black-armored Mandalorian standing in front of you. He was not wearing his helmet. Tall, with dark skin and clawmark scars across his cheeks, he loomed over you. He was well-groomed, his beard neatly trimmed, his black hair was immaculately styled. How did he not have helmet hair?

Blue scrambled over, also with his helmet off, also younger than you expected. He was blonde, hair gelled and styled. What the hell? Did Mandalorians discover the secret to preventing helmet hair? He smiled at you, with eyes as blue as his armor, his cheeks flushed. “You’re recovering much faster than I expected. How are you feeling?”

“Like I drank Delta Squad under the table again…” You said, rubbing your forehead. You had overdone it back there. Between the terentatek corruption, the Ataru form, and the subsequent wounds, you had pushed yourself too hard too quickly.

“Jedi drink?” Blue raised a brow.

“No, we just absorb dew through our pores,” you scowled.

“This Jedi witch is about to get dunked in a lake if she keeps giving me that attitude,” Skull said coolly.

“Well, I am thirsty,” you said.

To your surprise, Blue offered his canteen, looked thoughtful for a moment, took a drink, and then offered it again. “It’s not poisoned.”

“Disgust: Not poisoned, but definitely contaminated,” HK-53 said.

You hesitantly accepted the canteen, drinking down some of the metallic-tasting water. “Thanks.” You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand. “What do I call you?”

“Reaper,” Skull said. “76.” He pointed at Blue. “You?”

“Strike,” you said, climbing to your feet. The world wobbled, but did not tilt too far on its axis. You looked around. This encampment was small, but there was a cold firepit and vehicle tracks. They had not set this up in a couple hours. They had been in this area for awhile.

“Strike,” Reaper said, expression grim. “I think we need to talk.”

“No, I need to get to Nar Shaddaa,” you said.

The men looked at each other. “So do we.”

“That’s what we need to talk about,” 76 said, crossing his arms.

You stood there for a moment, a little intuitive nudge already sending your thoughts into overdrive. This was about to get even more complicated. “Because you really like casinos? Right?” You asked, with a sigh.

“Because we need to get one of those kids back,” Reaper said.

“...Of course, you do,” you said, staring up at the sky. You were glad someone had survived to hire mercs to rescue their kid. And you didn’t really care if the child chose to avoid training on Tython. But you did not need battle-happy Mandalorians ruining your operation. “Which one?”

“Xenya Itera, human female.” Reaper held out a holo of a little girl with a tiny spherical droid floating over her outstretched hands. She was dark skinned, her hair in several long tiny braids. She was smiling. “You can rescue the others, but we are obligated to retrieve her.”

“And if she doesn’t want to go with you?” You asked, crossing your arms.

“Then she doesn’t have to,” Reaper said with a shrug, surprisingly unbothered by the question.

“Your bounty?”

“Not your problem,” Reaper said coolly. “We just need to get the kid away from the Cartels. Simple enough. Easier too if we go after them together.”

...Two sensible, non-volatile suggestions from Mandalorian mercs in one day? Was the world coming to an end? ...Or was it a trap? There was a long history of bad blood between Jedi and the Mandalorian clans.

“What clan?” You asked suddenly.

“Excuse me?” Reaper said.

“What clan are you?”

The men looked at you for a moment, like they hadn’t expected that question. “Clan Ordo.”

You nodded. You didn’t have any standing grudges with Clan Ordo. Hell, you hadn’t really ever dealt with them. But they weren’t Clan Lok, Rook, Varad, or Viszla, so you were probably good for the moment. “I can work with that.”

“You should be fine with Ordo,” Rogun said, over the comm-link. “They were one of the clans that backed the Crusader’s Schism, several years back – wanted to side with the Republic instead of the Empire. Whole thing got crushed by Mandalore the Vindicated, and Ordo was eventually welcomed back into the fold, with honor. So they likely don’t have the grudge that Lok and Viszla do. I can’t speak for the individuals though.”

“Good to know,” you said, sitting cross legged in the tent. “And Talon?”

“...I guess you’re right, Strike. There are no coincidences. He’s been spotted on Nar Shaddaa, near the slave markets with an entourage.” An entourage? Did that mean…? Rogun gave a rough laugh. “The Force moves in mysterious ways.”

“No, the Force is a mean bitch with an axe to grind, usually in my face,” you scowled.

Rogun guffawed, the lethorns on the side of his head shaking. “You’re never going to make Master with that kind of talk.”

You rolled your eyes upward, like that was the only thing keeping you from obtaining the rank of Master. Ha! “Just so you know, I got quizzed by the Council on our association.”

“I’m sure you said nice things about me,” he said, his grin mean.

“I said, your sandwiches suck.”

Rogun scowled back at you. “It was the best I could do during an active bombardment!”

You knew adult Chagrians often lost their sense of taste due to environmental factors, and maybe that was the reason the food had been awful, but it was rude to point that part out. “Yeah, well, I talked you up a little too. Made sure they knew that despite your questionable occupation, you’re a friend of the Republic.”

“Great, so when they come knocking at my door for favors or charitable handouts, I know who to blame.”

“Just give them one of those sandwiches, that’ll send them on their way.”

Rogun squinted at you. “It’s a good thing you’re useful, Strike.”

You laughed. “Thanks, Rogun. Keep me updated on Lord Talon’s movements. I’ll make you a delicious sandwich in gratitude.”

“Go kiss a sarlaac,” he scowled, and hung up.

“You certainly have a way with people,” Reaper said, hovering by the entrance.

You had not noticed his approach. How much had he heard? “That’s me, making friends wherever I go,” you said with a shrug.

Reaper gave a low chuckle. “You and that mouthy droid.”

You glanced around, realizing HK-53 had not been over your shoulder for your conversation with Rogun. You got up, a little concerned.

“Relax, he’s shooting bogstalkers with 76. They were attacking the comms equipment. I’ve already updated my people. I’m going to finish breaking down the camp, and then we can go.”

You started to disassemble the tent, watching as HK and 76 sniped at the leathery reptilians that fluttered in the sky.

“What are you flying?” Reaper asked, packing several weapons into crates.

“The usual – Rendili Defender-class light corvette. It’ll get us where we need to go.”

“And you think your credentials will be enough to get us through Olaris?” He asked, because the Republic-held city wasn’t too friendly toward Mandalorians.

“I can, but it might be easier if you leave off the helmets. I know that’s culturally insensitive, but we’ll move faster if I don’t have to pull rank on a bunch of terrified soldiers and customs agents,” You shrugged, bundling the tent tightly.

“Sensible,” was all Reaper said.

“So what’s it like, traveling with a Jedi Knight?” 76 asked, lowering his rifle.

“Declaration: That is a broad question, meatbag. Be more specific,” HK-53 said, rifle aimed at a ferrazid hound, the mutated creature already tearing apart a broke receiver.

76 laughed. “Do you get in a lot of fights?”

“Bragging: We get in so many fights. The number of people who want to kill Master is very high. And it doesn’t seem to get lower, despite how many people we do kill. If I wasn’t so busy killing her enemies, I would want to fight her one day.” HK-53 paused, its head twitching.

76 frowned. “Why does she attract such enmity? Just who are you killing?”

“Aggravation: Master has killed many things, usually enemies of the Republic, but she has also made many rules about what I am not allowed to kill. It is unnecessarily complicated. For example, Master generally prefers to let the enemy make the first move of aggression, to ensure that it is adhering to her archaic rules of “moral” combat. Sometimes she even talks people out of fighting her. Can you believe it? She knows they’re her enemies and she lets them walk away! She should just kill them ahead of time, not spare them. What is she thinking?” HK-53 gunned down the mutated hound-beast. “But Master is a Jedi, and Jedi have to follow silly rules,” the droid muttered petulantly.

“How did a...violent murder-happy droid like yourself end up with a Jedi then?” 76 asked.

HK-53 tilted its head, giving 76 a very skeptical look. “Suspicion: Such flattery. Why are you asking so many questions, meatbag?”

“I’m just curious about the people I’m traveling with,” 76 said, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s not every day I meet a Jedi Knight or such an...enthusiastic battle droid. It leaves an impression. There’s a story there.”

HK-53 stared at him, those eyes glowing. “Satisfaction: We are impressive. You don’t need to know more.” Turning back to the swamps, HK-53 surveyed the area. “Observation: Oh, it looks like Master and the other meatbag want us to return.”

76 just laughed awkwardly.

“Concern: Master, that meatbag was asking a lot of questions about us.” HK-53 was secured to speeder on the seat behind you. The Mandalorians were on the other. You were technically using their equipment, but you didn’t exactly trust a bunch of battle-happy maniacs in the driver’s seat. That included your droid.

You zoomed over marshlands and fields, the Mandalorians riding parallel to you.

“What kind of questions?”

To your surprise, HK-53 just replayed the recording of the conversation. Normally, he was all too happy to summarize an interaction, and intersperse his own commentary, but he let it play out without interruption.

“Query: There is subtext that I do not understand, Master. Is he probing for weakness? What angle is he coming from? What does he hope to learn?”

You sighed. “It could be socially-motivated, but I’m sure he’s also trying to gather intel. People often let a lot of things slip in friendly conversation.”

“Query: What did he let slip?”

“Not a lot,” you said, thoughtfully. “But he’s trying to be diplomatic, and he seems to have a personal interest in Jedi.”

“Query: How can you tell?”

“The enthusiasm,” you said. “He’s not just asking for intelligence purposes. He’s interested in the topic, and he wants to make a good impression on you. I’m not exactly sure why – Mandalorian mercs aren’t really known for their diplomatic skills, but I think if we talk to him more, we’ll figure it out.”

“Statement: These Mandalorians are not what I expected. Normally, we just fight them, and it’s a little difficult, but it’s done. This change in behavior is...disconcerting.”

“Yeah, I know. Nothing about this mission is what we expected,” you muttered.

“Clean, sturdy, and fast,” Reaper said, looking over your ship. “Not bad.”

“Spacious,” 76 said, with a nod.

Given the fact that it was just you and HK-53, the ship was almost too big. “You guys can make yourselves comfortable in the crew quarters,” you said, gesturing to the rooms. “Let me know if you need anything. I’m going to make some calls before we reach Nar Shaddaa.”

But first you needed to change into an intact top, and check your wounds. Your robe was ruined, and there were three parallel gashes across your low back. They nearly spanned the entire width of your back, and were each a couple inches wide, and thankfully not too deep. But they would take a while to heal. 76 was right, you would scar. Your healing skills just weren’t up good enough. Still.

The auto-navigation was engaged, cockpit locked. You wouldn’t have to take the helm till you reached Nar Shaddaa. You didn’t exactly trust the Mandalorians on your ship, but you could feel them settling down, sharing one of the two sleeping rooms - there were multiple berths on your ship, but they holed up in one together. And they were behaving. To your surprise, when you reached Olaris, the Mandalorians had tucked their helmets into their bags, and quietly followed you through the spaceport. HK-53 attracted more attention with his running commentary, but boarding had gone smoothly.

You put HK-53 outside the comm room and shut the door.

You first called Master Amari, to give her the update for the Council. Yes, you were going to Nar Shaddaa. Also, Orgo the Hutt had a terentatek and had tried to feed you to it. You did not have time to finish the beast – but you would return to take care of it, after you rescued the children. You had picked up some Mandalorians – they were also tracking one of the children and on their best behavior.

Master Amari had been interested to learn they were Clan Ordo, but seemed satisfied with your progress. You did not mention Lord Talon.

The next call was less staid.

“A terentatek, Theron,” you snarled. “How did you manage to leave out that detail?”

“I don’t keep an inventory of every crime lord’s dungeon!”

“It’s a goddamn terentatek, not a monkey lizard! How did he even get one?”

“Did you try asking him?” The spy asked snidely. He lounged on the comm unit, looking nothing like the sickly boy you’d met on Haashimut. “I was too busy trying not to die!”

“Sounds like a “you problem,” he shrugged. “And stop whining, you didn’t die.” He grinned at you.

“No, thanks to you!”

“You didn’t invite me. You could still invite me,” he said, leaning forward, his eyes bright and too eager.

“Pfft, since when did you care about a dozen potential padawans?” You asked, even though you knew the answer, just like you knew why you had not invited Theron along. It would get too complicated for a variety of reasons. “This is barely even Jedi business. It’s a criminal venture that happens to have Imperial ties – not really relevant to the SIS or your career.”

“...I heard you saw the Grandmaster,” he said, suddenly subdued.

And that was exactly why you had not invited him. Theron was a shady son of a bitch on the best of days. That said “bitch” happened to be Grandmaster Satele Shan was just another level of complicated. There were so many reasons the situation was screwed: she had given him up immediately, his father was “unknown,” and he didn’t have enough force sensitivity to blow out a candle. His solution? He’d gotten some kind of high end cybernetic implant and gone off to play spymaster for the Republic, instead of working through his feelings.

But there was always an underlying layer of bitter regrets that accompanied his dealings with the Jedi Order.

“Yes, she looks healthy,” you said, playing it off like it was not a big deal. “It was going to be a disciplinary hearing, but that changed, because I’m just a pawn in some greater philosophical argument. Or maybe because they needed me to do a job,” you scowled. “I still annoy her, don’t worry.”

“Wanna wager which one of us is the greater disappointment?” Theron asked, his smile deceptively cheerful. You knew better than to answer that question. “Just kidding, Strike. It’s obviously you.” He made finger guns. “She hasn’t given me a second thought.”

You shrugged, pretending like you didn’t hear the open wound in that statement. “I doubt it’s anything so important. I just get a lot of lectures from the Council. You can probably guess what they think about strong emotion and any activity that isn’t meditating in front of a fountain.” You paused. “Look, do you want to be there when I report back to them? Like as an SIS adjutant or something?”

Theron let out a harsh laugh. “Are you trying to get kicked out, Strike? You show up to a High Council meeting with the Grandmaster’s bastard offspring in tow? How’s that going to look?”

“...You’re the one asking to come along,” you scowled. “Make up your own mind, Theron. I don’t offer to drag you into stupid Order business, you complain. I do offer to bring you into stupid Order business, after you ask, and you decline and point out why it’s a dumb idea. This is why you don’t have friends.”

“You’re one to talk, unable to make real connections because the Order stunted you for the first half of your life. Now here you are, running around with that psychotic defective HK unit, like it will replace what you lost on Corellia, chasing after Lord Talon like he’s the one you’re mad at, instead of-”

The world narrowed to a single point. Red light flashed across your field of vision.

“You need to stop talking,” you said, your voice going cold.

Theron blinked, his eyes widening. “...Druk. Strike, I didn’t mean-”

You cut the connection, the room blurring around you for a moment. It took a couple seconds for your vision to adjust. To realize how angry you were. Sure, Theron was an asshole, but he’d only peeled back the scab on a still-festering wound. You tilted your head back.

Breathe in. Hold. Breathe out. Hold. Repeat till the darkness recedes.

Gradually, your control steadied. But you sat with that cloud of anger, not letting it go, nor letting it take ascendance. It was there, a pulsing reminder of your humanity.

You were going to kill Lord Talon and maybe his apprentice. Not because you hated him, though you did. Not because it was the right thing to do, though it was. You were going to kill him for personal reasons, and unlike the rest of the Order, you were not going to lie to yourself about it. And if that brought you down, if that decision made you fall, well, you were prepared. You had taken the appropriate precautions. There would be no Sith Lord Strike.

There was a ping as you received an incoming message. It was from Theron. It was only five words.

I’m an ass. I’m sorry.

You shook your head, not ready to respond just yet, and left the comm room.

“Is that the best you can do?” 76 laughed, and then there was whumpf, before you heard a body hit the floor.

You peeked into the bunks, to see the Mandalorians stripped down to their shorts, wrestling on the ground. Both men were muscular, with noticeable scars from blasters, vibroblades, and even some teeth and clawmarks. But the tattoos were interesting… Reaper had a full left sleeve, and 76 had some very colorful creatures etched on his back. Was that a varactyl?

“See something you like?” 76 asked, glancing over at you.

Reaper looked up at you, narrowing his eyes. “Or are we being too loud?”

“I wasn’t sure what was going on, just making sure it wasn’t a murder,” you said. “Carry on then.” You abruptly turned around, shoulders taut. You would not stare. And you certainly would not get caught staring.

“Hey, you seem kind of stressed. Do you want to spar or something?” 76 asked.

“That’s not a good idea right now,” you said, tensing.

“Why, because you’re still weak from getting your ass handed to you by a Sithspawn freak?” Reaper asked, casually. “Don’t worry, witch. I’ll go easy on you, if you ask me nicely.” His grin was savage.

You turned back to face him, feeling the anger pour off you in waves. “...Mandalorian, do you need someone to humble you that badly?” You asked, your voice low and harsh.

Reaper laughed. “You don’t scare me, witch. Choose your weapons. And if you need to hide behind your fancy light swords-”

“Practice blades will do,” you said. “Come on then.”

Reaper squinted at you.

“You don’t think I’m going to tear up this room, do you? The sparring mats are on the lower decks,” you said, already heading down.

You picked up two blades off the rack, choosing a full blade and a half-length blade. The cargo hold was equipped for exercise, as you did not normally transport a lot of goods. You stretched, ignoring the whispered conversation between the Mandalorians.

“Oh good, the medbay is across the hall-” 76 said.

“Whose side are you on?” Reaper growled.

“You’re out of armor, cyar’ika,” 76 murmured. “She’s a Jedi. The outcome is obvious.”

“Hut’uun,” Reaper spat. “Verd ori'shya beskar'gam.”

“Don’t be salty because I’m telling the truth, mir’osik.” 76 laughed.

Maybe you should have called HK down here. He could have translated the Mando’a for you. Except he’d be calling for real bloodsport instead of just sparring. And you didn’t need that temptation right now.

You took a few practice swings, reviewing your forms. Niman would be the most sensible. This was just a sparring match. It was an all-around style, and Reaper had a lot more muscle mass than you did. You did not need to go all out. You swung the longer blade, feeling the air part in front of you.

Reaper glowered at 76, then stalked over to the weapon rack.

“Don’t worry, Mandalorian,” you said, your mouth curving in a mockery of a smile. “I won’t use my witchcraft to beat you. I’ll do it with my own two hands.”

“You don’t sound much like a Jedi right now,” Reaper said as he stepped on the mat, holding a single vibrosword.

“What do I sound like then?” You asked, as you began to circle each other.

“A real soldier,” Reaper said. “Which is impossible, because everyone knows that the Jedi like to hide in their fancy temples praying for peace, while their soldiers die.”

You just smiled, the insult gliding right by your ear. You had made that argument too many times to be offended by it. Especially when it was from a Mandalorian braggart trying to get under your skin. But it said everything that this was how an outsider viewed your order.

You spun your swords, the heavier one in your dominant hand, feeling just right. The anger boiling under your skin seemed to evaporate. It was just energy now, ready to power you through another fight. Your mind slid back into its seat of balance.

Reaper charged you, lunging forward, the blade cutting through the air in a horizontal arc. You sidestepped, ninety degrees to the right, just out of his reach. And while his blade was extended, you slipped around his guard, and dragged your short sword across his back, a thin line of blood appearing seconds later.

He whirled, swinging the sword at you. You parried with your left hand, and glided forward, under his guard, so close you couldn’t swing your other blade. Instead, you grinned up at him, and rammed the hilt into his stomach.

Coughing, Reaper doubled over, glared at you, and then his leg snapped up. You slid backward, but a half-second to slow. He kicked you in the chest, and you had to catch yourself in a spin. It was suddenly hard to breathe.

He charged you again, blade raised overhead.

You instinctively raised your swords to parry, catching his blade between both of yours. You twisted, and the vibrosword flew out of his hands, and landed on the floor of the cargohold with a clatter.

“Do you yield?” You asked, spinning your swords. “Or would you like a moment to go retrieve your weapon, Mandalorian? That’s fine. I’ll wait.” You grinned. “Because I can do this all night long.”

Reaper stared at you, eyes dark, nostrils flared. He was bleeding, breathing hard, and sweat glistened on his velvety skin, but he didn’t look like he was done.

“Maybe you’d like to try both of us then?” 76 asked, his eyes narrowed. He picked up Reaper’s sword and then a stave for himself. He placed the sword in Reaper’s outstretched hand, and took up a stance beside his comrade. “Tion'ad hukaat'kama?”

You tilted your head back, moving your head from side to side. 76 held the staff like he knew how to use it. You closed your eyes, feeling the currents of the force flow through you, a picture of the field forming in your head. They stood side by side, but they would attempt to box you in. They both had excellent range, but 76 would have the advantage of reach. You could see the range and motion of their attacks before they made them, and while it would be difficult, you were good at this. “What are you waiting for? An invitation?”

76 lunged first, sweeping the staff at knee-height.

You leapt over the attack, even as Reaper slid to your right swung the vibrosword in a downward arc. Elbow bent, wrist pressed to your head, you blocked the strike.

76 struck again, thrusting the staff like a polearm.

You jumped backward out of his range, disengaging from Reaper’s sword lock. You spun around toward Reaper, blades outstretched.

76 swung the staff around, blocking the area across Reaper’s torso.

You struck the staff with a clang, and had to swing your right blade to block Reaper’s counterattack. You disengaged again, dancing to the side, putting Reaper between you and 76. He tried to swing his sword, but you parried the blow again, and whipped your other blade across his cheek with a little flourish.

The skin split and instead of countering, he stared at you, with an intensity that made you hesitate.

From behind Reaper, 76 thrust again, striking you in the side with the staff. You hissed, and kicked Reaper backward into 76. The blonde man steadied his friend, and together they stayed on their feet.

You touched your side, knowing that the area would need extra healing later. But it wasn’t enough to bring you down now. Breathing hard, you took a deep breath and whirled toward them, blades spinning in your hands.

Still leaning on 76, Reaper didn’t have a chance to take a strong defensive stance. You caught his vibrosword between yours, and scissored them, sending his weapon flying once more. You couldn’t quite kick him aside, so you circled around to 76. You got close, too close for him to use the staff properly. He could block your blows, but he didn’t have the space to maneuver. Your blades slid off the staff, but still scraped against his chest, slicing a long gash through the pink skin, the tip of the short sword catching on a gold ring.

“Haar'chak!” He yowled.

“Ke'pare!” Reaper shouted. “Wait!”

You froze, having not noticed the little gold rings on his nipples. “Disengaging,” you said, dropping your vibrosword, and very carefully freeing the short blade from the piercing. “Why the hell would you leave those in for a sparring match?” You asked, backing up.

Wincing, 76 held a hand over the right nipple ring. “I...forgot,” he mumbled.

“Showoff,” Reaper said, shaking his head.

“I’ll get the kolto,” you sighed, setting the blades back in the rack, before you went across the hall to the medbay. You grabbed the first aid kit and headed back.

76 sat in the middle of the mats, rubbing his chest sheepishly. Reaper sat next to him, shaking his head.

“Hold still,” you said, crouching down in front of him to examine the cuts on his chest. You cleaned the wounds with a sanitizing wipe and then applied a layer of kolto over the cuts. You glanced at the nipple. It was pink and a lot more swollen than the other one, but still intact. You hadn’t torn the piercing or cut anything off. It wasn't even bleeding. Squeezing a little more kolto onto your thumb, you rubbed it lightly against his nipple.

76 stiffened, inhaling sharply as you put the healing gel on him. He was breathing hard now, chest and face flushed from the exertion. He watched you with hooded eyes, teeth clenched. “Do you patch up all your conquests?”

“No, normally there isn’t enough left to fix,” you said, meeting his gaze.

He studied your face for a moment. You could feel the heat pouring off him. He leaned closer. “So I’m one of the lucky ones?”

“Very, you almost lost that piercing and more.” You said, your mouth suddenly dry.

“It’s still sore, maybe you could put some more kolto on it,” he purred, a very knowing smile on his face.

“No, I think you deserve to suffer a little for your stupidity,” you said, backing up. You glanced at Reaper. “Do you need kolto?”

“Go on then,” Reaper said coolly, sitting up straight.

You crouched back down in front of Reaper, keeping him partially between you and 76. You worked quickly, your fingers lightly tracing the scar on his face. He watched you sullenly, as you quickly applied the gel. And then he turned around, silently giving you his back. His skin was hot under your fingertips, and you tried to seal the wound quickly, very conscious of 76’s hungry gaze. You slapped a bandage on it, and he turned back around, plucking the kolto out of your hands.

“Let’s see those ribs,” Reaper told you calmly. “76 hit you pretty hard.”

“I can take care of it myself,” you said.

“No one’s going to pounce on you,” Reaper said. “And even if they did, you could handle them.” He did not look at 76. “Now don’t be stubborn and try going up that ladder with your ribs cracked. That’s just foolish.” There wasn’t any of the previous malice in his voice, just a gentle chiding that reminded you a little of Master Amari.

Sighing, you unfastened your sash, and peeled back your robes, wincing as you touched your left side.

His head tilted to the side, Reaper applied the healing gel to your bare skin, his warm hands gently massaging it into your left side. You bit your lip, placing a hand near there as you tried to convince the bones to knit back together correctly.

Between the kolto and the little bit of force healing you could manage, the pain began to subside.

“Better?” Reaper asked, his palm still pressed to your side, close to your hand.

“Yes,” you said, swallowing roughly. “I should be good.”

Reaper bowed his head. “You won, Jedi. I am...humbled by your prowess.” He nodded to you, giving you a slight smile. “But I would like to try against you again later. Perhaps barehanded next time.”

You remembered seeing them rolling around on the ground, wrestling. Your breath caught. “You’re welcome to use the sparring mats,” you said, pulling away, closing your robes and tying off your sash. “But I need to go meditate.”

“Will you join us later?” Reaper asked.

“...We’ll see,” you said, glancing at 76, who lounged on his side, one hand cupping his sore pectoral.

76 winked at you. “Feel better?”

You blinked, having already forgotten why you’d agreed to spar in the first place. “Yes, thank you, but I really need to go meditate.”

“I can think of some other things that would help you out,” 76 said, looking you up and down with a smile.

“I really should go,” you said, already halfway out the door.

“I need to go meditate?” Really? That was your best excuse? It worked, but still…

Grumbling you, shut yourself in your quarters, limping to the fresher for a shower. It was quick, and you changed into another clean robe – today had been hard on clothes – and then settled on your floor cushion, still feeling the force run through you.

You did not contemplate the temple fountains, nor the forests of Tython, nor any Jedi object. You stared out the window, into the void of space, the stars twinkling in the distance. You fully expected flashes of red light, or even that dark haze that settled over your mind when you really got to thinking about the past.

But the force continued to move through you in strong currents. It was like sitting up to your shoulders in a warm ocean. The world took on a soft gray glow, and you let yourself drift.

It was the most peaceful you had felt since Corellia.

“Knight Strike, are you occupied?” 76 asked over the intercom.

You opened one eye, focus settling back into your body. “Do you need something?”

“We took the liberty of making a meal, and thought you might be hungry,” he said.

You blinked. “Oh, I’ll be down in a minute.” The offer took you by surprise. HK-53 had said nothing about them moving around the ship. You rose, tightening your robe, and left your quarters.

A warm savory scent hit you as you opened the door. The entire deck smelled of rich spices and sauteed aromatics. It was coming from the conference room – the one you used as a makeshift dining room back when… Back when there had been more people on your ship.

The Mandalorians were inside and had set up hotplates and a kettle on the table. Reaper was back in his polished black armor, sans helmet, stirring a pot. He did not look up when you came in. He just lifted a battered spoon to his lips and tasted the stew or maybe it was a casserole? If so, it was heavily sauced.

76 stood over his own battered iron skillet, an amber colored cake within. He cautiously poured some syrup over the cake. Then he cracked open a bottle and poured an even more generous amount of dark liquor over it. “It’s almost done!”

“If you want to cook, I have a small kitchen setup in my quarters-” You paused, realizing that maybe you did not want them traipsing in and out of your bedroom.

“Oh? Really? I would like to see that,” Reaper said, looking up and smiling at you, heat in his gaze. He lifted the spoon from the pot, offering you a taste of the bright orange stew. It had chunks of mystery meat, vegetables, and what looked like beans. It smelled like fire, smoke, and peppers, clearing whatever spacedust might have been clogging your sinuses. You hesitantly took a bite. It was savory and hot. The layers of earthy and smoky spices blended well together and even though you were still chewing, you wanted another bite almost immediately.

Even if you had never tasted this dish before, there was something immediately comforting about it. The meat was smoked. The vegetables had likely been dried and reconstituted in the sauce. The “beans” were actually some kind of grains, soft and fluffy with just the right amount of chewiness. “That’s very good,” you said. “What is it?”

“Tiingilar,” Reaper said, watching your face. “It doesn’t burn too much, I hope.”

“The seasoning is excellent. I’m very fond of peppers,” you said, raising a brow. Was he hoping that it was too much for you? That seemed a possibility. You had beaten him in combat, so he was going to compete with you in other ways. Still, if it meant that he cooked a nice dinner, you wouldn’t take too much offense.

Reaper just smiled at you. “You are full of surprises. The last non-Mandalorian I fed this to accused me of poisoning her. It was...too hot for her delicate mouth.”

“She wasn’t as well-traveled as Knight Strike,” 76 said, flipping his skillet and dumping the cake onto a battered metal plate. “Uj'alayi. It’s a traditional dessert,” he told you, pulling out a combat knife and slicing it into six pieces. “It can be made in our helmets. Reaper insisted that I use a pan this time.” He winked. “But I think the helmet adds to the flavor.”

“Interesting,” you said, glancing at Reaper, who just chuckled. “Should I get-”

“No need! We have tiingilar, uj’alayi, and behot tea. Plenty of food to go around,” 76 said proudly. He paused, gesturing to the table.

“And I have a few extra bottles of kri’gee and narcolethe, if you’re interested,” Reaper said, a little too innocently. “Now I think he is trying to poison me,” you said, because you weren’t an idiot. Those liquors were very potent.

“I have some extra ne’tra gal,” 76 said, gesturing to the bottle he had. “It’s a much nicer ale.”

“It would go well with the uj’alayi,” Reaper said, setting a bowl of his spicy stew in front of you. He poured you a mug of tea. Then he began doling out portions for himself and 76.

76 put a slice of cake in front of you, along with the open bottle of ne’tra gal.

You took a sip of the sticky sweet ale. It was more potent than you were expecting, but it was Mandalorian alcohol. You then took a small bite of the dense cake. It was rich and sticky, filled with dried fruit, nuts, and some kind of sweet syrup. The syrup had carmelized a little on the outside of the cake, but the inside was almost too sweet, except for the ale that soaked in. You washed it down with more of the ale.

76 watched you eagerly. “What do you think?”

“It’s rich,” you said. “But the ne’tra gal does go well with it.”

“It was originally army rations – lots of calories for a march,” Reaper said. “We thought you might enjoy some traditional Mandalorian food.”

“That was very kind,” you said. “It’s delicious.”

“Do Jedi have tasty traditional food?” 76 asked.

You sat with that for a moment. “...It’s actually kind of bland,” you sighed. “Nutritious, but not fancy. They don’t want us to be “distracted” by such things.” Back in the day, Theron had smuggled you candies, snack foods, and even alcohol. You felt a twinge of annoyance. Back in the day, Theron hadn’t been such an asshole. “I like trying new things though. I had to sneak around in Coruscant – make it look like I was only stopping because I needed “sustenance.” Not because the food stall smelled delicious.”

“We are not encouraged to be easily distracted by food,” Reaper said with a frown. “But there is no harm in enjoying it.”

“...Jedi aren’t supposed to “enjoy” things,” you muttered. “Well, they can, just not…too much.”

“What counts as “too much?” 76 asked, taking a big bite of cake.

You shrugged. “That’s a philosopher’s debate. But we’re meant to focus on denying most temptations. Want and attachment lead to other negative emotions, which lead to hate, which leads to the Dark Side. Let me summarize it for you: everything fun leads to the Dark Side.” You rolled your eyes and took another swig of ale. “Depending on who catches you, that lecture can go on for hours.”

“Enjoying cake leads to becoming a Sith Lord?” 76 chuckled. “I want to eat more. Will that get me my own lightsaber?”

You laughed.

“Your Order has a real fear of this Dark Side,” Reaper said, sipping his tea. “It seems a little convenient, like a method of control.”

“The fear is legitimate, but the safeguards are controversial.” You took another bite of his spicy stew. “It’s complicated.”

“So what happens when a Jedi goes to the Dark Side, becomes dar’jetii? Why is this so dreaded? I have met the dar’jetii of the Empire. Some are reasonable. Many are not. But they are not Jedi, and they are not so much more fearsome.” Reaper’s brows furrowed.

“We’ve fought dar’jetii,” 76 said, chest puffed out. “And we’ve won. Didn’t get to keep the lightsaber though. Captain got it.” He gave you a rueful smile.

“I assume dar’jetii means “Sith.” And that’s part of the problem.” You took another sip of tea, staring at the wall. “There are two different understandings of the terms. The political difference is that Jedi are force-sensitives who work for the Republic. Sith work for the Empire. It is an overly-simple explanation.” You held the mug between your hands, its warmth comforting.

“That is how we understand it,” Reaper said.

“Then you have the philosophical definitions. There are two sides to the Force, Light and Dark. The choices you make in life determine your alignment. There are Imperial Sith, who are fair-minded and compassionate. Even if they may not follow the Jedi Code, they are of the Light, though it would be unwise of them to advertise that.”

“And there are Jedi who are cruel and bloodthirsty, and they are of the Dark?” Reaper asked. “Your Order allows this?”

“No, they do not. In fact, they are dismissed from the Order, and sometimes they are imprisoned. Sometimes it is...worse.” You did not look at them.

“That seems like a tactical disadvantage,” 76 said.

“...It’s more than that.” You switched back to the ne’tra gal. “Sometimes singular choices can swing a Light-side Jedi to the opposite end of the spectrum. They go from honorable, kind, and patient to violent, cruel, and despotic in seconds. Falling is a sudden kind of madness. Often they turn on their friends and allies, killing the people they swore to protect. Sometimes they recover who they were and regret what was done. Sometimes they just become monsters.”

“What causes it? I haven’t heard of Sith having such experiences often.” Reaper asked. “Do they fear an inverse effect?”

You laughed, imagining that for a moment. “No, I guess I haven’t heard of a Sith suddenly being filled with an uncontrollable sense of altruism. At least, not to the same degree. They may switch sides or work to seek redemption, but these are conscious choices.”

“So what makes Jedi so much easier to influence?” 76 asked.

“Well, the Sith Code does encourage a certain amount of violence and backstabbing, but that’s the question, isn’t it? The Jedi Order thinks if we, as individuals, keep our distance from the world, do not get attached to others, and live like ascetics, we can avoid falling. If we just follow their rules, and live in our cloisters, we will be safe.” The bitterness of your words surprised you.

“Is there no middle ground?”

You took another bite of the stew. “That’s also complicated. Allegedly, there is.” You thought of the Gray Jedi. “But it is not an explanation accepted within our Order. I have witnessed people falling. It is...horrible to see someone you have known your entire life changing into the antithesis of themselves.”

“So if...attachment makes them fall, what brings them back? Do you appeal to their honor?” 76 asked.

“Maybe,” you said, because you would give a lot to find the answer to that question. “I think...reminding them what they found to be so important can help.” You thought of Nomen Karr. “But sometimes they are just in denial. They think they are infallible, they think that excuses whatever actions they take, and that accumulation of corruption combined with their own hubris destroys them.” You sighed.

“What causes this madness? The revelation of their own hypocrisies?” Reaper pressed.

“Force users are...vessels. The Force runs through us, it is like a constant stream of energy. That energy can manifest in different ways. Light Side users have certain powers, Dark Side users have others. And then there are some abilities that are so rare, it’s hard to say where they come from. Those are the extremely talented few: I have a friend who can heal broken minds. But I have no idea how to do such things. I am just a better-than-average fighter.” You smiled wryly. “But one of my teachers has a theory. Jedi spend so long keeping out the Dark, that sometimes, if we lower our guards, if we make an emotional choice toward the Dark, suddenly we have opened ourselves up to an outpouring from it. Some of us do not know how to cope and that system shock is too much too quickly, and then we swing to the opposite side.”

“So maybe you should do a few bad things, to keep your mind safe,” Reaper said with a shrug. “Easy enough.”

You laughed. “...maybe. Or maybe that slow acceptance of corruption just makes it easier to fall. That’s a high-risk theory for me to try to prove.”

“So what is an example of how a Jedi falls?” Reaper asked.

You sat there, knowing it wasn’t any of his business, and that you were drinking too much. But it was not a secret. And he wasn’t actually asking about your past. “Say you go into battle, and you really hate the person you are fighting. You have thought long and hard about how they need to die. You know that it is against everything that your Order has taught you, and you don’t care. They might want him as a useful prisoner, but even if he surrenders, you are going to kill him. Or perhaps, you are going to disobey orders – you will pursue him off the battlefield, even if it means leaving your comrades or charges behind. There are many ways. But I think it comes down to, you will look at your choices, you will know that what you choose is wrong, and you will do it anyway.”

Reaper snorted. “That doesn’t sound evil: foolish and undisciplined maybe. But killing certain enemies is sensible.”

“But if it throws off your sense of self…” 76 rubbed his chin.

“That is a problem we do not have to deal with,” Reaper said, brow furrowed. “Perhaps the cost of sorcery is too high. Or perhaps Jedi are weak-minded. Their strictures are too rigid; the conditions they set are unreasonable.”

“This fear of attachment and strong emotion,” 76 mused. “How are they as parents?”

“...Jedi are good caretakers, but not good parents. Because Jedi are not supposed to marry or have kids, so we usually recruit externally,” you said, trying not to think of Theron.

Both men blinked. “What?!”

“We’re warrior monks,” you muttered. “Or supposed to be. There are exceptions, but in general, marriage and other romantic attachments are not encouraged.”

76 and Reaper exchanged meaningful glances.

You could feel the judgment. You finished your ale, suddenly wishing for more.

“So no sex?” 76 asked, his eyes wide.

“...We’re not supposed to,” you said, looking at the table, suddenly embarrassed.

There was a long moment of silence.

“But you don’t always do what you’re supposed to, do you?” Reaper asked, his voice warm and amused.

You bit your lip. “That’s really not your business.”

Reaper gave a low laugh. “I didn’t think so.” He tilted his head to the side, resting his chin in the palm of his hand. “There’s no shame in indulging or abstaining. But something tells me that you’re not the type to shrink away from a challenge.”

You crossed your arms, staring hard at him. Did he need another lesson in humility? “What are you trying to say, Reaper?”

“I’m saying, if you choose to indulge, we’re both interested,” he said plainly, and took another bite of his tiingilar. “And if you don’t, we respect that too.”

You nearly choked on air.

“But we’re a package deal,” 76 said, his expression uncharacteristically somber.

“...Wait, are you married?” You asked, because it was easier than processing what Reaper had just offered.

“Promised,” Reaper said, giving 76 an appreciative smile. “But this one has fought at my side for years, and that matters more than any words spoken.”

76’s cheeks burned pink. He gave Reaper a warm look. “Traditionally, we can just say the vows whenever: in person, over comlink, through letters, and it’s done. But our clan wants to be there to witness it and throw a big party, which isn’t exactly traditional – they usually can wait till afterward.”

“But certain clan-members are insisting that they should attend,” Reaper said.

“And if we didn’t make the allowance our sisters and the Captain would never forgive us,” 76 said with a sigh. “You don’t cross the Captain.”

“And our sisters are unreasonable and very good with their flamethrowers,” Reaper said.

“Oh,” you said, like it all made perfect sense. They were about to be married, but they wanted to invite you to their beds? How did that make any sense? You groped for words. “That’s lovely.”

“You could come too,” 76 said. “There will be plenty of food.”

“...Uh…” You blinked, not sure how to process the proposition, the wedding invitation, and the entire situation.

“76 and I take pride in performing well, be it fighting, cooking, or other recreational activities,” Reaper said smoothly. “If you’re concerned, we’d be happy to give a demonstration.” He leaned over, one arm around 76’s shoulder.

76 nodded happily. “You can think of it as exercise or stress relief.”

“Or you can just watch, if you like, we don’t mind,” Reaper purred, stroking 76’s hair. Those thick metal gauntlets tightened into a fist, pulling 76 closer. Reaper leaned over, pressing a hard kiss to 76’s neck.

The blonde man moaned.

But Reaper was watching you, those dark eyes glittering.

“...I should go meditate,” you said, abruptly standing up and retreating from the room.

#SWTOR #IAL #Crackfic #Reader-Insert #overwatch fanfiction #In Alio Loco AU #In Alio Loco

15 notes · View notes

first-and-last-neocount · 3 years ago

Text

Whumptober Day 4

This is it. The big one.

This is the all-devouring AU that has now eaten nearly half of my Whumptober fill ideas. It’s a scenario I’ve carried in my brain for years, and when I initially looked through the prompt list this year and decided to write for it, my brain said ‘Hey, look at that Escape prompt. You could write something for that one AU that would fit that. And this one could work as a follow-up!’ and I said yeah, sure, why not. And I listed those ideas as ‘Escape!AU’, because that was the one that sparked the idea and I figured there’d only be one or two others.

By now, the AU has absorbed close to a dozen other prompts. They’re wildly out of order, of course, because I’m writing them in order of the prompts and not how those moments happen in the story. With every additional prompt I write out, there is the chance that it will mutate before my eyes and become part of the Escape!AU with little to no input or control from myself. I feel like I invited the muse for this story into my head without realizing that it’s not a fluffy hamster, IT’S A BLOODY TRIBBLE.

That being said, I should probably have at least kinda seen it coming, because it’s a fix-it for the ending of CoS. That’s a topic that I... feel passionately about, to put it mildly. This is that other AU I mentioned yesterday, where Gerald still has extra-special Hunter powers and the Patriarch did not manage to take the fae away from everyone; please just go with it, and I’ll actually address how that happened at some point. Although the Gerald-not-actually-being-mortal isn’t really relevant in this bit, because he’s so drained from everything that’s happened that it doesn’t do anything to resolve the situation.

That’s what we have Damien for.

Opening two lines, in italics, are quoted directly from Crown of Shadows to help set where the scene splits from canon.

Day 4 - Theme Chosen: “Do you trust me?”

Damien hesitated, then looked at Gerald. The Hunter nodded ever so slightly. “He's right, Damien.” His voice was quiet but strained. “There's nothing more you can do here.”

“Gerald-”

The Hunter was already shaking his head. Damien felt his throat constrict, as if the force of his own panic and despair was physically crushing it. He knew what the next word from Gerald's mouth was going to be, knew that the adept was going to send him away, that this was how it was all going to end; blood and bitterness and revenge, all that potential for redemption wrenched away at the last second, wasted...

Do you trust me?

He'd never initiated contact through the link before – the few times they'd spoken through it, Gerald had been the one to open the connection, Damien only responding to the Hunter's questing reach. It wasn't as hard as he might have thought, though; only a matter of reaching for that ever-present sense of connection that throbbed quietly between them, touching that indefinable thread that bound them and spilling his thoughts into it, the question carried forward in a rush by the tide of fear and desperation that was sweeping through him. Damien saw the Hunter twitch slightly, grey eyes widening in surprise at the message, or at the strength of the emotions that accompanied it – but the response came immediately nonetheless, no hesitation on the other man's part.

Yes.

Damien looked back at Andrys, the young man's green eyes blazing with restless fury as he waited for the Knight to step aside, and let his whole demeanour shift. He dropped his hands from where they'd been held, conciliatory, in front of him; he let his shoulders shift up and back, his stance transforming from defensive to confident, even cocky, as he hardened his expression into a look of stern determination. He saw shock and uncertainty ripple through Andrys at just the change in his body language, and he went for the opening with ruthless speed, forcing even his voice to come out steady and unaffected.

“Fine. Since you're not buying the concerned ally angle... let me put this a little more plainly. You're ruining my plan, boy.”

“What?”

The shocked exclamation had come, in the same tone, from both Gerald and Andrys in nearly the same breath. Damien forced the tiny urge to laugh hysterically into the furthest recesses of his mind, glaring at Andrys with all the disdain he could muster.

“You know what he is, and in case it escaped your notice, I'm a priest,” he bit out, gesturing dismissively at Gerald where the adept stood half-shielded behind him, lean frame now rigid with disbelief at the scene unfolding in front of him. “You think I actually wanted to have to work with a monster to save the world? That I seriously planned to just let him walk away when all this was said and done?”

Already, there was a flash of dawning understanding in Andrys's eyes; the young man looked from Damien to Gerald and back, the blind aggression on his face giving way to realization as he put the pieces together.

“You set him up...”

“I swore, back on the day I first found out that he was the Hunter, that I'd kill him with my own two hands,” Damien growled, and felt the fae around him shimmer with the force of the truth behind those words, so obvious that surely even Andrys could see it. With his adept's Sight, Gerald certainly could – and had, judging by the sudden alarm that flickered over his face. “I've been biding my time for vulking years, fighting this damn war, putting up with his power slithering through my head – I've endured nightmares and murders and horrors beyond your comprehension, and now you're just going to waltz in and finish him off, just when I've finally got the upper hand? No. No, I don't think so.”

He could feel real trepidation bleeding through the link now, knew that he had forced just enough true resentment into his words to off-balance Gerald – and Andrys must have been able to see it in the adept's face as well, because the young man suddenly laughed, a malicious little chuckle half choked by his own heightened emotions.

“Well, that's certainly a twist,” he said, eyes gleaming as he lowered the springbolt in his hands ever so slightly, the angle of the bolt canting down just enough that it was no longer aimed at Damien's chest but more at hip height. “And, from the looks of it, one that you weren't expecting.” Those words, dripping with spite, were aimed at Gerald, who actually flinched again in response. Andrys's gaze swung back to Damien, a dark, sick hunger that reminded the former Knight all too much of Calesta stirring behind his eyes. “So, you're the priest... Jaxom told me about you. Said you'd lost your way, fallen further than even he expected.” A smirk tugged at his lips. “This makes more sense, though. You needed this bastard too much to kill him then, but of course you're angry. What was the plan? Bring him back here and walk right into the heart of the crusade, so you'd have backup?”

“Of course.” Damien forced a mirroring smirk onto his own features, and though it felt heinously wrong on his face, Andrys didn't seem to notice anything amiss with it. “I'm not an idiot – I want payback, but I know he's still powerful. I wasn't going to provoke that showdown unless I knew I had some kind of safety net.”

Andrys nodded, his eyes glittering; Damien could all but see the pieces aligning in his mind, the world finally taking a shape that meshed sensibly with the young man's own personal mania.

“I see,” he said finally, the springbolt lowering a little more – the weapon was heavy, his arms had to be tiring by now. “It was my family that he slaughtered, you know... but I understand what you're saying, as well. You had to travel with him, endure him, for the entire fight against Calesta – that can't have been easy. I won't deny you have a claim on his head, but I think you must see my point of view as well...”

Damien barely heard his words. His eyes were on the springbolt, watching the nose dip further and further – until, as Andrys rambled on about the weight of their differing claims and his own suffering in having to work with Calesta to put an end to the Hunter, the trajectory of the bolt fell so far that it was aimed at the very ground.

Now!

Damien shoved the word through the link at the same time that he moved, lunging forward with every ounce of speed his tense muscles could offer. He left his reservations behind him, the conflict that had raged through him for so long suddenly silenced, irrelevant; as it had that night in Morgot when Hesseth's tidal Working had hit them, his innate drive to defend those he cared for subsumed everything else, every other voice in his head drowning under the overwhelming instinct to protect.

Andrys was wearing too much armour to try any more delicate method of incapacitating him, so Damien fell back on the basics; closing the distance between them with that desperate lunge, he brought his arm back and punched Andrys in the jaw with all the force he could muster. Even in his exhausted state, his speed and strength were forces to be reckoned with. Andrys had tried to react to Damien's sudden attack, jerking the springbolt back up and getting off a single shot, but Gerald had taken Damien's cue to throw himself to the side out of Andrys's line of attack; the bolt fired at a useless angle, flying low across the room to bury itself in the far wall near the floor. Then, Damien's blow connected.

Damien wasn't just well-trained in combat; as a Healer, he knew exactly how to do the most damage to the human body when he needed to. The gorget of the armour was protecting Andrys's throat too well for a jab to connect, but the sideways force of a blow could be an effective method of knocking an opponent out as well, if the attacker had aimed correctly. Damien had thrown the punch from as much of a sideways angle as he could manage, his fist coming in from the side with terrifying force; as it connected, Andrys's head snapped hard to the side, and the young man crumpled to the ground like a marionette with cut strings, knocked instantly unconscious by the force of his own brain being slammed against the inside of his skull.

The crash of his armoured form hitting the floor was followed by utter silence, broken only by Damien's own heavy breathing. He stared down at the young man, heart pounding with delayed adrenaline, feeling a wave of numbness slowly wash through him and replace the panic that had driven him to action.

God, forgive me... is this what I've become? Is this what You wanted when you brought us together, or have I truly lost myself so badly?

“Damien?”

The soft utterance of his name snapped Damien out of his trance, and he turned, shaking off the fog. Gerald had closed the distance between them in his moment of distraction and was now standing only a couple feet away, staring at Damien as if he'd never seen the Knight before, grey eyes wide. He didn't say anything else aloud, but he didn't need to; the link between them was saturated with emotion. Shock, wonder, gratitude, a fading echo of wariness...

And something else. Something so strong, so deeply felt, that it took Damien's breath away all over again. A sense of devotion, almost akin to his own fierce faith in God yet so much more personal, flooding through the link between their souls. A dizzying awareness that a line had been crossed, and a promise made: not with words, but with actions, unable to be taken back or misinterpreted. Gerald was wholly aware of what Damien had just declared, by stepping between himself and his descendant, by striking out at Andrys in defence of the Hunter – and he was returning the sentiment tenfold.

There would be time to put it all into words later. Damien took a deep breath, finally feeling the ground firm beneath his feet once more, his world steadying from where it had tilted on its axis in the moment he thought that Gerald was going to die.

“Time to grab what we came for and get the Hell out of here,” he said, mouth dry. “I'd say we're pretty definitively out of time.”

As Gerald nodded and turned to find the books they'd risked so much for, Damien moved to help, marveling at the way the link remained open and resonating between them, emotions flowing freely back and forth – and wondering what it meant for the state of his immortal soul that none of those emotions, from either end of the link, was anything like regret.

#whumptober2021 #no.4 #Do You Trust Me?#coldfire trilogy #fic #evil is what you make of it #gerald tarrant #damien vryce #the neocount writes

6 notes · View notes

fannishcodex · 4 years ago

Text

Some sketches/brainstorming for a Role Swap AU where Kipo’s the older, abandoned experimental subject, and a younger Hugo isn’t left behind.

Due to being 17-18 and various other AU reasons, Role Swap!Kipo (or “Futura”) has greater control over transforming her body and can even shift it into more intermediate stages, i.e. looking more like a normal sentient mute like Jamack, the Timbercats, etc.

(Her face reminds me more of a jackal than a jaguar at the moment, but I was honestly enjoying the jackal-esque look more. Also thought it made her look more distinct from her Mega/Full Mega forms, and I was also considering possible subtleties in shapeshifting mechanics. May try to change up her face later though.)

In this Role Swap AU, Project Kipo actually went through official channels and was approved by the DNA Burrow as an alternative to the ongoing failure of the mutagen trials with animal subjects. (Dr. Emilia was outvoted and outmaneuvered.)

More Role Swap AU sketches/brainstorming under the cut:

Song still ends up mutated due to side-effects of the pregnancy and still gets stuck as a Mega after a failed field test on the surface when Project Kipo is one year old. The fallout of that included effectively abandoning Project Kipo, though it didn’t reach the extreme of destroying the specimen. The experimental subject was kept around, generally confined to the labs in response to concerns held by the majority of the DNA Burrow over the high-profile failure and rampant fear it sparked. Emilia tried to find some practical application for the defunct project, over which she now had full control. Lio lost parental rights, and sometimes got approval for limited visits. (One serious escape attempt was made and ended in failure.)

So Kipo is Hugo’s older sister.

Some more detail on AU reasons for Kipo’s greater control over her jaguar shapeshifting and powers: Emilia tried to train her as a tool/weapon from a young age, Kipo was born mutated, Kipo eventually finds another way to balance her jaguar and human sides, BUT she does have an anchor--it’s Hugo. Eventually the thought of him is enough for her to maintain control.

After begging and doing well with academic tutors, a 12-year-old Kipo was allowed to assist with mutagen trials on the animals; she was motivated by something Emilia told her since she was little, that the trials could help cure Kipo of her mutation. Kipo instead ends up bonding with the young mandrill, especially when he does gain sentience. (The formula mutates Hugo faster, happening when he’s a few months old, when he’s smaller/size of a small child and before his facial markings grow in.) Outside of a strained relationship with Lio and a messy, manipulative, abusive situation with Emilia, Kipo has been very isolated. Hugo is someone else to add to her limited social circle, and the mandrill child has shown her the most affection, the simplest and warmest affection. Kipo goes to great lengths to hide she’s a part jaguar mute from Hugo because he is literally the only one in her life who doesn’t know about her mutation, and practically everyone fears her for it and it’s the root of so many of her problems. She even makes Lio promise not to tell Hugo.

When Kipo turns 13, various things lead to a veritable repeat of her mother, with her going completely Mega for the first time and losing all control in spite of Emilia’s brutal safeguards, and Kipo’s separated from Hugo and Lio.

Lio truly cannot find Kipo, but there are other unfortunate factors--an encounter with Mega!Role Swap!Kipo while carrying an unconscious and injured Hugo made Lio truly afraid of his daughter because she looked as lost as Song when she went Mega, she looked ready to devour them both and he realized how very much he could not bear that fate for Hugo. After everything, Lio’s rather colder in this AU, more cynical, but he realizes he’s truly grown to see Hugo as his youngest child, and he becomes so utterly afraid that Kipo’s jaguar side will end up killing Hugo. And Lio knows how much Kipo cares for Hugo, it would be too awful if she accidentally killed him while not in her right mind. And Lio remembers Song lost inside her Mega mutation, it looks like the same has happened to Kipo. Lio tries to take an extended search for her, and leaves Hugo behind with some *allies they made, but--well, Hugo still has the mutated pheromones, and Emilia eventually figures that out. Lio and co. rescue Hugo from Emilia, and Lio just--Lio just can’t leave Hugo alone like that again, he has to stay and protect him (especially since Emilia escaped again). And Lio remembers Song losing her self when she went Mega, he believes the same has happened to Kipo...

Even when Hugo grows older, Lio resists telling him the whole truth because he doesn’t want his youngest to even try looking for a Mega Jaguar mute for fear he’ll only get himself eaten by a Mega who’s lost all sense of her former self.

(*More on these allies in the AU later, but I think they can be guessed...)

For various AU reasons, Role Swap!Kipo travels way up north (San Praesidia) and falls in with a gang of big cats--lions, tigers, cheetahs, etc. She eventually becomes their leader when she gains better control over her powers and can overwhelm them with her great strength as a Mega. With Kipo commanding them, they eventually conquer their northern surroundings, and then start moving down to Las Vistas. The big cat gang is generally fashion forward and fixated on something like modernism, and they become even more inclined toward the future when Kipo/”Futura” takes over.

(Kipo decides on “Futura” due to reading up more on Song’s research after she returned once to the ruined DNA Burrow before she wound up in the north. Her mother’s references to Kipo as “the future of humanity” left an impression on her...)

By 17-18, Role Swap!Kipo appears visibly cheerful and very eccentric and enjoys trying on different outfits and music. While awkward and earnest in her initial attempts with others on the surface, after having a pivotal mental breakdown before she took control over the big cat gang, she’s now better at manipulating others with charm and chatter besides always having Mega force at her disposal. She dabbles in chemistry, but loathes astronomy. (She still made a replica of Hugo’s star blanket during one of her low moods, she only likes that stylized image of stars in relation to her brother.) Her hatred for Emilia is more clear and more intense now. She hates every human from the DNA Burrow. She pretty much loathes all humans. She hates Lio for the abandonment after she destroyed the burrow, but even more for what happened before and for helping mutate her in the first place and turning her into a living science experiment. She hates Song more than Lio, though she’s never properly met her--actually, because she’s never properly met her.

(Completely off topic: Yes I got tired and just made all the Role Swap!Kipo sketches pink. XD But I also thought it was a little stylistically nice? Also felt Hugo needed more colors because of distinctive mandrill markings, not just ‘cause he’s my fav? I mean, I’m pretty sure there was more to it, but who knows what my gut really felt. XD)

Role Swap!Hugo is sweet, shy, earnest, awkward, and very anxious. He tries to hide his mutated pheromones, which Lio and allies they’ve made on the surface have told him to only use for emergencies, and to be mindful that it only works on primates, it won’t help him with everyone. He’s very fond of the dark-feathered flamingo twins he tamed enough and befriended enough to ride, and whom he named Evangeline and Katherine. He enjoys music, art, history, reading, and historical fashion...he still has a soft spot for kings and such, but definitely doesn’t think it would ever be for him just due to public speaking alone, and he also prefers to keep that between him and the memory of his sister, whom he still deeply misses and grieves.

Role Swap!Hugo loves Lio, but things can get strained between them due to trauma in their family history, lingering insecurities, heavy issues, like--as he gets older, Role Swap!Hugo knows Lio is refusing to tell him everything that happened in the DNA Burrow, and Hugo feels he’s old enough to know the truth, if him being too young was Lio’s only reason for secrecy. And...and Hugo’s old enough to try looking for Kipo, maybe she’s alive and missing; Hugo knows he was too young before, but he’s older now, why doesn’t father even want to try?... But Hugo guiltily reconsiders and worries it’s too much for Lio who was able to really search before, and Lio maybe just can’t deal with anymore heartache.

But Role Swap!Hugo wants to try...

Role Swap!Kipo is very convinced she’s right. When she finally reunites with Hugo, she’s convinced she knows what’s best for her baby brother, and she thinks it’ll be better for Hugo if Lio were out of the picture because he was one of several scientists who experimented on both of them. That’s unforgivable, unavoidable. There’s no ignoring that. And making things worse, Lio still has too much control over Hugo--how can her poor brother ever be free of Lio if he’s still around? No, their dad should be out of the picture, just like Song.

(Hugo had dreamed of Kipo’s survival, but he had never imagined this.)

#kipo and the age of wonderbeasts #scarlemagne #kipo oak #hugo oak #kataowb #my fanart #my fanfic #role swap au

38 notes · View notes

havenoffandoms · 5 years ago

Text

Running With The Wolves - Part I

I am back with some Geraskier Werewolf AU. I have planned at least one more part after this, but possibly I’ll be inspired to write more. I find the concept interesting. If you so happen to be interested in reading Part II, let me know and I will tag you in my next update. Hope you enjoy reading this as much as I loved writing it!

Wordcount: 5.5k

Summary: Jaskier had heard the rumours about shapeshifting witchers, but he had always dimissed them as old wives’ tales. They were the kind of stories mothers told their children to stop them from wandering into the woods on their own after sundown. Shapeshifters did not exist, plain and simple. Jaskier was above such superstitions.

Pairing: Geralt of Rivia x Jaskier

Once upon a time, in a land far, far away, in a place inaccessible to mere mortals such as ourselves, lived the famous witchers of Kaer Morhen. Mutants, people called them, taken in at a tender age and trained into the deadliest weapons the Continent had ever seen. The witchers of Kaer Morhen were bred with one aim: create a race powerful enough to protect the nations of the Continent against the most horrific monsters that loomed in the darkest corners of the world. However, the other races began to worry that the witchers would one day turn against them. Fearful of the mutants turning rogue, an Alliance was formed between the rulers of the most influential kingdoms of the Continent to combat this new race of superhumans threatening the peace in all the lands. The armies of Nilfgaard, Redania, and Cintra, joined arms and attacked the keep of Kaer Morhen. This was the last time that the nations of the Continent had stood united against a common enemy rather than being at each other’s throats. Outnumbered and taken by surprise, many witchers and young students lost their lives that day. Satisfied with the bloodshed, the armies of the Continent retreated never to be seen in these parts again. Unfortunately for them, the armies of the Alliance had failed to kill all the witchers. Those who survived mourned the loss of their brethren. They swore to never witness such a massacre again and to avenge the fallen by taking the life of whoever dared venture near the keep. The witchers renounced their duty as protectors of the people in favour of becoming the safekeepers of Kaer Morhen.

Nobody knows what became of the surviving witchers, but some claim –

“’l’ll tell ye what became o’ em, bard,” a booming voice interrupted Jaskier’s tale. He traced the voice back to a middle-aged balding man sitting at the bar, his pudgy hand clutching a tankard of ale and a haunted look reflected in his glassy eyes testifying of years of chronic alcoholism. “Shapeshifters, they became… massive wolves now roam the valley o’ Kaer Morhen. Gobble up anyone who shows ‘is face near the keep…”

Jaskier refrained from rolling his eyes at the patron’s comment. He had heard the rumours about shapeshifting witchers, but Jaskier had always dismissed them off as old wives’ tales. They were the kind of stories mothers told their children to stop them from wandering into the woods on their own after sundown. Shapeshifters did not exist, plain and simple. Jaskier was above such superstitions.

“As I was saying, some claim that the witchers still live in Kaer Morhen, keeping to themselves and occasionally wandering out to slay monsters in the area. Others – “

“Did ye not hear me, bard?” the patron interrupted Jaskier a second time, “they ain’t witchers no more. Beasts they’ve become, more freakish still than their mutated human forms. Seen one wi’ me own eyes.”

“Of course you have, good sir. Although I do wonder, was that before or after the third bottle of whiskey?” Jaskier jested, earning himself drunken laughter from the crowd which brought a pleased smile to his face.

“The man’s right, that he is,” another patron, younger and in much better shape, shouted in defence of the first man, “everyone knows that wolves roam the parts of Kaer Morhen.”

The patron carried on his tale of shapeshifting wolves and to Jaskier’s dismay, the crowd hung to his every word. The bard could have argued with the two men, but he did not see the point in doing so. Jaskier would rather save his breath on something more useful. Storytelling paid well enough, and until Jaskier managed to find inspiration for his next ballad, it would have to do. Hopefully he would not have to wait much longer for inspiration to hit him.

“You don’t believe them,” a voice startled Jaskier out of his reverie, “I can tell. I can see it in your eyes.”

The voice belonged to an old and frail-looking woman who was supporting her hunched form somewhat precariously on a wooden stick the size of a thick tree branch. She smiled a toothless smile at Jaskier, who despite his initial surprise had managed to compose himself enough to offer a polite smile in return.

“Do you?” he asked her, trying not to sound condescending as he addressed the elderly woman.

“Why shouldn’t I believe them? I am willing to believe your tale about witchers. If sorcerers exist, it seems perfectly plausible to me that they can use their magic to shapeshift.”

“Only that sorcerers don’t exist, and magic is a relic of the past. Everyone knows that Nilfgaard has successfully eradicated all forms of magic. Witchers are nothing but legendary characters from an old world.”

Jaskier noticed the woman’s smile grow wider at his words. She straightened up as much as her hunched back allowed and locked her milky eyes with Jaskier’s, seemingly staring straight into his soul despite her evident blindness. Jaskier felt uncomfortable under the scrutiny.

“Dear boy, this is not how magic works. You can’t eradicate it in the same way Nilfgaard has destroyed everything else in their path. Eradicating magic is like trying to move sand, grain by grain, from one beach to another. You cannot possibly gather all of it, even with the most advanced tools. Sooner or later, one grain will escape you. Such is the way of magic.”

Jaskier scanned the bar nervously, hoping no one was listening to the conversation. Mentioning sorcery or speaking of Nilgaard in derogatory terms was considered the highest form of treachery, and as such, was punishable by death. Jaskier valued his life dearly and did not want to be seen talking to the wrong person. Sensing his unease, the old woman dropped her voice to barely above a whisper.

“I enjoyed your story, bard. I don’t have much coin to my name, but I do have this.” The woman fished a small vial out of her pockets, her gnarly fingers clutching onto it as if she were holding the world’s most precious elixir in her hands. Her other hand grabbed Jaskier’s so she could place the vial in the palm of his hand. She folded his fingers over the vial, ensuring he was holding it securely.

“What… what is this?” Jaskier enquired curiously.

“A special kind of medicine that heals most wounds. It is not much, but you never know when you might need it. You’ll be glad to have it when the time comes.”

Jaskier would have honestly preferred coin, but he had a bad habit of getting himself into peculiar situations and his clumsiness often resulted in one too many bruises. Medicine was not a cheap ware and healers were rarely honest with their pricing. If anything, Jaskier could sell the medicine at the market for a fair sum which he could then spend on clothes, a nice hot meal or a night at a brothel. Jaskier discreetly dropped the vial in his pocket, making sure no one had spotted him doing so. The last thing he needed was to be mugged as soon as he left the tavern. The woman smiled softly at him, her eyes twitching almost as if she was mapping his face. Which, of course, could not possibly be the case. The woman was clearly blind.

“Thank you for your generosity, Lady…?” Jaskier left the end of his sentence hanging in the air, hopeful that the old woman would fill in the blank for him. Instead, she merely shook her head and left the tavern through the main entrance without another word. Jaskier did not know what to make of that other than finding her behaviour strangely evasive.

“I hope you took notes, bard,” the owner of the tavern shouted at him from the bar, “might wanna add shapeshiftin’ wolves to your story. Then people might throw some coin your way.”

“I have a better idea,” the first patron said as he rose to his feet and took several unsteady steps towards Jaskier. His breath stank of cheap ale and rotting teeth, but Jaskier was far too polite to pull a face at the stench. The man poked the bard’s chest with his fat finger as he slurred his next words. “I’ll pay you a thousand crowns if you travel to the Cursed Valley and live to tell the tale.”

The man’s proposal was met by enthusiastic shouts from the other intoxicated patrons.

“A thousand crowns? For travelling to Kaer Morhen and back?” Jaskier confirmed, pleased when the man’s smile vanished from his face at his nonchalant attitude, “How do I know you have that kind of wealth to spare in this shithole?”

“Oh trust me bard, everyone will pitch in,” the man with the bad breath assured him, but his face grew dead serious as he spoke his next words, “You are a fool for considering the journey. Nobody will have to worry about spending a penny. You’ll die from frostbite before you even reach the keep.”

“If I don’t come back, you’ll have your proof that the giant wolves are not legends. If I come back, then trust me my friend, you’ll never hear the end of it. I shall go to Kaer Morhen and prove to you people once and for all that shapeshifting witchers are a fantasy from the past. I’ll make sure to draw a wonderfully scenic sketch of the Kaer Morhen ruins as proof. And then, of course, I’ll take my thousand crowns from you and disappear from this village forever. Sound like a plan?”

Jaskier could feel the tension rise in the room and the overly-confident patron suddenly seemed to second guess his decision. He extended his hand and waited patiently for the patron to shake it. The glassy eyes stared at Jaskier’s face in a calculating manner as he tried to guess whether the bard was bluffing. After a short silence, the patron shook Jaskier’s hand to the cheers of the crowd. This would be a piece of cake. All Jaskier had to do was disappear for several days, draw a sketch of castle ruins and return to the inn to claim his reward. No one would follow him to Kaer Morhen willingly, so they had no way to prove that he was lying to them. There was no downfall to this plan.

OoO

When Jaskier left the tavern, he felt someone pull him back by the arm and the bard realised with horror that he was unable to escape their iron grip. He turned to face his attacker only to find himself standing before the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. She was shorter than him but still tall for a woman. Her fiery-red hair reached her lower back and green eyes that could enchant any man, including Jaskier, stared back at him intently. The woman shot him a knowing smile that seemed all too familiar.

“Good afternoon, miss, how may I be of assis –“

“You have no intention of going to Kaer Morhen. Why not?” the woman asked him. She must have been inside the tavern mere minutes ago and followed him out, or how else would she know about his wager with the patron? Jaskier wondered how he could have possibly overlooked such a beautiful creature, he who was usually so good at spotting them. Perhaps they had been so loud that their conversation could be heard from outside, but even so, how would she have known who to intercept?

“I beg your – “

“A thousand crowns is a fair sum, yet I can sense that you have no intention of travelling to Kaer Morhen. My guess is that you want to take advantage of the villagers’ naïve superstitions by fooling them into thinking that you went, reap the rewards and disappear never to return. Which begs the question, why not simply go to Kaer Morhen?”

Jaskier did not appreciate the woman’s questioning, and much less the fact that she had read his intentions so plainly and with such ease. If she had figured out his plan in under two minutes, the patrons of the tavern might have seen through his façade, too. Now the villagers may not have much influence in high places, but nearly all of them possessed pitchforks and torches, and Jaskier did not really find out how much damage those could do in the hand of an angry defrauded mob.

“I don’t have to travel to Kaer Morhen to know that I’m right. Magic does not exist,” Jaskier maintained stubbornly, which earned him a resigned sigh from the red-haired woman.

“They have always baffled me, you know? Those people who stare right at the truth, yet still refuse to acknowledge it.”

“What do you mean?” Jaskier asked, unsure whether he was ready for the answer. The woman stared at him intently as if debating her next move carefully. Her green eyes scanned the area for any unwanted witnesses before she grabbed Jaskier by the arm once more and lead him away from the tavern.

“Not here, it’s too risky,” was the only explanation she provided as she guided Jaskier out of the village and into the nearby woods. The bard wondered if she was planning on killing him for his coin. At least, he tried to console himself, he would die at the hands of a beautiful woman which admittedly could class as a poetic death. The woman stopped abruptly in the middle of the forest and turned to face Jaskier in all her glory. She wordlessly put some distance between herself and the bard by stepping back from him slowly, almost as if she were trying not to startle a terrified animal. Jaskier was too mesmerised by the way her body seemed to float away from him that the thought of running did not even cross his mind. His jaw dropped when he noticed a purple hue surround the beautiful woman, wrapping itself around her in wisps of smoke until it faded and revealed the distinctive hunched back belonging to the old woman from the tavern. Jaskier felt his heart skip and drop to his stomach at the sight.

At first, he was surprised.

Then surprise gave way to baffled confusion.

Until his confusion turned to fear.

“You… you’re a…”

“Sorceress,” the old woman provided before changing back into the beautiful red-haired woman once again, “a wielder of magic, capable of shapeshifting amongst other very useful things. I know what you’re thinking, bard. You’re scared and confused, and that’s understandable. But you needed to see this. You needed to see it to believe it.”

Jaskier’s mind was racing as he tried to wrap his head around what he had just witnessed. This woman before him had managed to change her appearance within seconds by using magic. It did not make any sense. Nilfgaard had destroyed every magical being, artefact and grimoires they managed to find. They had done so leaving behind bloodbaths, destruction and ruins. Jaskier had learned all about the Great Cleansing as a boy, and later at Oxenfurt. Kaer Morhen had been one stage of the Great Cleansing, but many more places had suffered the same fate. Aretuza was destroyed several weeks later, although the mages had been expecting the armies and had fought more viciously against the invader. Some even believed that Nilfgaard had convinced sorceresses to turn against their own kind, only to be betrayed and killed once the massacre was over. Over a hundred years ago, Nilfgaard had managed to destroy every remnants of magic that was left in the Continent. No region had been overlooked, no magic-wielding creature spared. What Jaskier had just witnessed this woman do did not make any sense.

If this woman could still wield magic, what was to say that others could not?

Perhaps the patrons at the tavern had been right.

Perhaps magic was not dead, but merely practiced in secret to avoid repercussion. Magic-wielders most likely went into hiding to avoid the wrath of Nilfgaard.

And what better way to hide than to do so in plain sight by changing one’s appearance? In the same way this beautiful woman had turned into an old hag, powerful witchers could have turned into ferocious wolves to throw Nilfgaard off their scent.

Melitele be damned.

“This is… why? Why show me this? Aren’t you worried I’ll tell someone?” The sorceress shook her head, that knowing smile creeping back onto her lovely features. “Why not?”

“Do you really want to take that risk? Chances are if you came into contact with a witch, Nilfgaard will kill you too. They can’t risk anyone revealing that magic is not, in fact, a relic of the past.” Jaskier could not argue with the sorceress as he desperately tried to wrap his head around this turn of events. The red-haired woman spoke again, her voice softer but her expression graver. “We are linked by destiny, Julian Alfred Pankratz. I do not expect you to understand, nor am I here to provide an explanation. All you need to know is that this meeting was written in the stars decades before your conception.”

“I… no, this… this is not possible. I must be dreaming,” Jaskier muttered to himself, pinching himself for good measure. He wanted to wake up, although this dream would inspire a great ballad no doubt. This could not be truly happening to him. None of this made any sense.

“You are not dreaming, Julian. My name is Visenna, and I have been looking for you for the best part of the last year. I have a request that only you can fulfil.”

Jaskier's fear merely intensified at the woman's - Visenna's - words. He could feel his heart race in his chest as she stepped closer to him, her body moving with such precision and grace that Jaskier was convinced she was trying her best to seduce him into getting him to do her will.

"What do you want me to do?"

And apparently, whatever tempting magic she was using was working. Judging by the pleased expression on Visenna's face, she was fully aware of the power she had over Jaskier in that instant. Once she was close enough, Visenna cupped Jaskier’s face with both hands and even if the bard wanted to shy away from her touch, he was rooted to the spot and mesmerised by her deep green eyes sparkling with mischief.

"I need you to go to Kaer Morhen. I am willing to pay you double of what the patron offered you. I will be in your debt, which is of course not negligible. I can make most of your wishes come true, one way or another."

As tempting as the offer was, Jaskier knew that fraternising with a sorceress could prove fatal if anyone ever found put. A fact she would undoubtedly be aware of, which made it really easy for her to break her end of the bargain. What was Jaskier to do if she did not keep true to her word? Legally speaking, he had no standing.

And the witch knew this, too.

"I'm not an adventurer, miss. I am but a bard. I'm afraid I won't be much use on the road, much less at night when bandits and wolves - actual non-shapeshifting wolves - come out to play. I'll have to give this opportunity a pass."

"You haven't even heard what I need you to do once in Kaer Morhen...," Visenna remarked, her tone calm and composed.

"I don't need to hear it. It's not an adventure for me. You'll have to find someone else."

Visenna was silent for a moment. Jaskier could have used this opportunity to break into a sprint to get the fuck away from Visenna as quickly as humanly possible. Yet, something about her eyes kept him rooted to the spot. There was wisdom in them, but something else also that Jaskier could not quite place. Perhaps hurt, or nostalgia, or boredom. She was making it very difficult for him to read her. Jaskier swallowed past the lump in his throat as Visenna pulled his face closer to hers. Her skin felt surprisingly soft against his cheek.

"It can't be anyone else, Julian. It has to be you."

These words were the last thing Jaskier heard before the world turned black.

OoO

When Jaskier woke up, his head was pounding and all the muscles in his body were aching. He tried to remember what could have possibly caused such a reaction from his body, but to no avail. The last thing he remembered was leaving the tavern after promising the patrons to return for the thousand crowns they had promised him if he successfully returned from Kaer Morhen. Jaskier could not remember much of what happened after that. The bard opened his eyes and blinked rapidly to adjust to the bright light. The sun was shining and warming his face, but also blinding him as he tried to sit upright. The bright beams did nothing to appease his sore head. Once Jaskier got used to the light, he observed his surroundings more closely and was surprised to find himself lying at the edge of a forest in a valley surrounded by mountains so high they disappeared into the clouds rolling over his head.

Jaskier could not remember drinking anything but ale at the tavern, but then he could not remember much apart from the wager he had made with the patrons. Perhaps he had gone back for a couple of drinks later that day. Clearly that time Jaskier had opted for the strongest drink in the fucking tavern. His mind could not fathom how he had managed to stray this far from the village. The warm sun was soon submerged by menacing dark clouds foreboding an oncoming storm.

Fantastic.

Jaskier rose to his feet and took several seconds to find his balance as the world spun around him. Judging by the position of the sun, it was late morning. He had performed at the tavern in the late afternoon. Clearly the mountains had been closer than initially anticipated for there was no way Jaskier had been drunk enough as to wander for hours on end without any recollection of his travels. He must have passed out and slept until now. It was a miracle he was still alive. Plenty of creatures roam the forests of the Continent. Jaskier decided not to while on these thoughts too much as he set out to find the nearest village. Any village would do at this point although he would preferably like to find the one he had performed in to retrieve his lute and other belongings from the room he had rented for the night. Jaskier did not have to wait long before he heard the deep rumbling of thunder in the distance. Heavy raindrops fell from the sky and soaked Jaskier to the bone in mere minutes. The sun had completely disappeared as the world turned dark and the storm took over. Jaskier struggled to see the path he was on because of the heavy rain, and it was only when he tripped over a branch sticking out of the muddy ground that he realised he had wandered deeper into the forest.

Shit.

He was not sure how far into the forest he had wandered, or more importantly which direction in. Panic took a hold of him as Jaskier scrambled to his feet and moaned at the sight of his expensive doublet covered in mud. There was no way he would get that stain out no matter how hard he scrubbed. That was one way to ruin a perfectly good doublet. Jaskier picked up the pace as he tried to find a way out of the heavy curtain of rain surrounding him. He panted heavily as he clumsily navigated the treacherous paths of the forest as well as he could. The occasional flashes of lightening followed by the booms of thunder only increased his anxiety levels. After what seemed like an eternity, Jaskier noticed the entrance to a cave carved out in the rocky mountain which would make an excellent shelter against the rain. That was all the encouragement Jaskier needed, and so he hurried inside the cave but made sure not to wander in too deep. He wrapped his arms around his body and shivered uncontrollably as his soaked clothes stuck stubbornly to his skin. If the creatures did not get to him first, he would probably die of hypothermia. Jaskier was so concerned with keeping himself warm that he did not notice the beast that was creeping up to him from behind. Only when his body was suddenly pushed to the hard ground with the force of a thousand men did Jaskier realise that he probably should have checked the area first before walking blindly into this cave.

"Oh boy.... Ooooooh boy."

The creature looming over him snarled and bared its teeth as drops of saliva dripped onto Jaskier's already soiled doublet. The first thing the bard noticed were the razor-sharp canines, the horrendous breath and two large paws pressing down on his chest. Only upon closer inspection did Jaskier realise that he had been tackled by a wolf. Not a traditional wolf, mind you. This one looked bigger, stronger and more aggressive than the wolves Jaskier was familiar with, which was saying something. A flash of lightening, and Jaskier noticed the yellow eyes and the long scar on the left side of the wolf's face. Another flash, and Jaskier could make out the colour of its coat: mostly white with streaks of silver. The bard figured that if he was to die here and then at the hand - or paws - of this beast, he might as well take a closer look at it. Not that the wolf’s appearance would matter much once it had feasted on Jaskier for supper and no one lived to tell the tale. Surprisingly, the creature yet had to attack.

"Easy... I'm not here to hurt you, I just wanted shelter from the rain. Please don't eat me..."

Jaskier knew the wolf could not understand a word he was saying, but it made the bard feel better to feel like he was stalling the creature's attack. It seemed to be working considering that the wolf stubbornly refrained from attacking him despite snarling viciously in warning. Jaskier avoided staring directly into the beast’s yellow eyes, showing submission in the hope it would be enough to convince the huge beast towering him that he was no threat.

“If I’d known that you were in here, I would not have come in trust me. You’re a biiiig, big boy… I swear I don’t want to hurt you. I… I’m lost. I don’t know how I got here, and I just need to – “

A loud high-pitched whine coming from the other end of the cave interrupted Jaskier’s nervous babbling. The wolf above him tensed at the sound and turned its massive head in the direction of the sound. Jaskier could faintly make out the shape of another, much smaller creature. Probably a second wolf. That thought was terrifying and if it was true what they said about animals being able to smell fear, then those beasts were in for a treat. Jaskier was surprised he had not wet himself at this point. He shifted slightly to get a better look at the other wolf, but as soon as the beast above him sensed his movements it snapped its attention back to Jaskier and growled in warning. Jaskier instantly froze at the sound.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry…”

The other wolf let out another wail, sharper this time. It sounded like it was in pain. The helpless whine the wolf pinning Jaskier down let out was another indication that something was wrong. The bard took comfort in the fact that the beasts had shown no signs of wanting to eat him yet.

“Is your friend hurt?” he asked the larger wolf, unsure what kind of answer he was expecting. The irritated huff he was met with was most likely unrelated to his question, but Jaskier liked to think the animals could understand him. Suddenly the bard remembered the vial some old woman at the tavern had handed him as payment for his performance. A special kind of medicine that heals most wounds.

“Hey, I… I got something in my pocket that I could use to help your friend.”

Jaskier noticed the way the large wolf’s ears twitched at his words. The piercing yellow eyes seemed to stare directly into his soul. Although the animal still looked unsure, at least he was not showing any teeth or any signs of aggressive behaviour. Almost as an afterthought, he got off Jaskier and sat on its haunches expectantly. The bard could not quite believe his luck as he watched the beast wait patiently for him to get up. It was probably confident that it could outrun Jaskier if the bard tried to flee. Rightly so, if Jaskier was perfectly honest. With slow precise movements, the bard fished the vial out of his pocket and rose to his feet. The beast’s head, even from its sitting position, reached up to Jaskier’s chest. The bard felt his knees go weak.

“I’m going to put some of that oil on your friend’s wound, okay? Don’t try to eat me while I’m doing that. I have to say I don’t know if it’ll hurt your friend or not. I hope it won’t. We can all get along, alright? I’m in the same boat as you and I don’t want anyone to get hurt today.”

The wolf blinked, never taking his eyes off Jaskier. The bard decided to attempt an approach but advanced one small step at a time to properly gauge the wolf’s reactions. The yellow-eyed beast made no movement to stop Jaskier’s approach on the wounded animal, and Jaskier visibly relaxed at the realisation. Now that the bard was closer, he could see the second wolf more clearly. It was not only smaller, but thinner too. It looked like a young pup who was not fully grown yet. Its flaxen coat was silky apart from where it had been wounded. Dark dried blood stained the otherwise spotless fur while pus oozed out of the wound. The young wolf was panting and did not manage to raise its head from the ground, but its eyes sought Jaskier’s nonetheless. The bard offered what he hoped was a reassuring smile.

“Hey little one. I’m Julian Alfred Pankratz, but my friends call me Jaskier. I have this special medicine here that’s supposed to make your wound all better. You’re lucky I got lost in these parts of the woods.” Jaskier uncorked the vial and smelled the oil within it. A faint odour of chamomile hit his nostrils. He decided to apply the oil directly to the wound. The younger wolf twitched when the cold oil hit the sensitive wound, but Jaskier took confidence in the fact that it never let out a single sound. Probably not painful, then. To Jaskier’s amazement, the pus around the wound slowly started disappearing, allowing the skin to magically close itself until all that was left were the blood-caked fur and a bald patch where the wound had been seconds earlier. It was like the wolf had never been hurt at all.

Jaskier stared at the now empty vial in sheer shock. What the fuck had just happened?

“Uh… I guess you’re fine now, huh?”

The younger wolf raised its head and looked at where its wound used to be, sniffing the bald patch curiously and giving it several probing licks. Jaskier flinched when he saw the silver wolf approach them, keeping a close eye on the human who had just helped its friend as he nuzzled the younger wolf’s head affectionately. Outside, the sun was shining again, brighter than ever. Jaskier longed to leave this cave as quickly as his legs would carry him, but before he could act on that thought he felt a large wet tongue lick the side of his face, leaving behind a trail of slobber reaching from his chin to the crown of his head. The younger wolf was now on its legs and was determined to clean Jaskier from head to toe as its tail wagged furiously in barely contained joy. The bard let out a nervous laugh when the wolf jumped at him and gently tackled him to the ground, trying to playfully nibble his hand. Realising the younger wolf only meant to play, Jaskier tried to relax and even brought himself to scratch the spot behind the beast’s ear, earning himself more approving licks from the grateful animal.

Playtime was interrupted by the silver wolf, who by producing a low rumbling noise similar to a growl let the younger wolf know that they were done fooling around with the human. The younger wolf seemingly understood and instantly hurried to the silver wolf’s side. Those yellow eyes locked with Jaskier’s again, almost as if silently thanking him for his service, and before long the two beasts took off into the woods leaving behind a more than baffled Jaskier.

What the fuck had just happened?

TBC.

#the witcher #the witcher au #geralt of rivia #geralt z rivii #Jaskier #dandelion #geralt x dandelion #geralt x jaskier #shapeshifter geralt #jaskier x geralt #dandelion x geralt #wiedzmin #taglist #wip

65 notes · View notes

getreadytosmash · 4 years ago

Text

Me: I love HatAoS I only have a few ideas tho

Also me:

- More emphasis on Skaar's background where he starts having nightmares and causing earthquakes on his sleep. Can hear "messages" in the Earth and it's actually Hiro-Kala calling him home to prevent galactus from eating them all

- Caiera is alive and Hulk remembers her after his mind had been wiped when he got lost in space on an Avengers mission

- Skaar taking some time to stay on Sakaar and during this period we get to meet Lyra, who has come to kill and fulfill her destiny in her future

- Big fight scene goes on as Lyra begins to wage war on both sides of her character - shows how she's been a child soldier but wants to change and learn how to be someone of her own character for once

- Little filler episodes that feature other gamma mutates as a way to show how hulks are helping people and are actually slowly bundling up a team community

- Lyra finally decideds to join them when Weapon X captures Hulk - slight romance subplot between Lyra and Laura Kinney

- Lyra dealing with being an agent of smash, has bonding moments with Jen and eventually Red while fighting against Hulk when he tries to understand her at first

- Skaar comes back and we get to see the contrast between them and yet similarities after we've both had a long enough time as an audience to get to know and understand these two characters

Pt 2

-Red episodes that develop into his past and how he now makes amends, I loved the Ghost rider episode and I want it to touch on his PTSD more

- Red episode where he eventually forms a team with the Circle of Four to save the other Agents of smash!! The Red Rider!!

- Jen episodes as she teams up with Hellcat and many other female heroes and eventually wants to focus on training Lyra and getting a good law job

- Hulk gets trapped in his mind and we meet the alters and it's like a "teach kids about systems" episode before we learn that Brian is actually the big bad of the oncoming seasons

- ties in with,,,,Leader redemption arc where he and the agents team up when his brother, Madman makes an appearance and turns out to be worse

- Marlo episode that show Rick's character as Marlo is near the same age and acts much like he did at the beginning. It let's us see how he is now a young man who inspires others yet now has someone he can bond and tease with

Pt 3

- Joe casino episode that gives us a first flick at Brian as well as giving us a dip at Jen's truama where she too goes grey

- Jen's grey arc where she now deals with her own truama manifesting and an episode where she kinda goes off to deal with it

- Jen missing for an episode or two, in which we meet Clay the Hulkverine after Weapon X makes a comeback and he shows the contrast of how Hulk still fears family and hurting it that allows us flashbacks to his past

- episode where Joe and the ptjet alters come up to help Hulk and Bruce to look for Jen and finding out that Betty had gone missing two months before

- Epsiode that focuses on Leaders change of character and mistakes as well as Red's as they all search for Jen and Betty before discovering that Abomination assisted in kidnapping and "killing Betty" while Jen is seemingly trapped in her Trauma form

Pt 4

- New season where Jen deals with being as big as Hulk and her new form while also having Marlo try to help out and add some fun to her life

- Leader trying to fix it while Red descends into despair with Hulk that ends when a mysterious Red She-hulk appears alongside a new hero duo called Scorpion and Brawn

- We see brief cameos of other gamma mutates that appeared and how they recount fights of these new gamma mutates as they were attacked and Red She-hulk (....Cardinal) attacked them and absorbed their gamma

- epsiode features relationships between all the hulks and their gamma and the way they contrast yet bond to together for it

- aided help with Avengers and X men that hav a time of good cameos tbh

- we find out in a big fight that Leader goes missing and it's actually Abomination and who was hired after Madman died to work with Weapon X and is actually possessed by Brian Banner

- Identifies of the new team to be Betty, Amadeus and Carmilla to be shown and the shock of what they've done

- Big fight that ends with the bad guys being defeated and the new trio coming out of their brainwashing

- Flashback to neat cameos where all the hulks had incidents with Betty as Cardinal that suddenly make so much sense now

- Including Fight with Jen that almost had Betty breaking free and one where Red catches a look at Betty's human form from behind before Carmilla knocks him out

- Lots of tension before Red gets possessed by Xxazx and fights the big ass armour when he punched the watcher before Betty saves him and she reconciles with them all

- Little further episodes that feature James bond esque episodes with Joe, Betty and Rick

- Jungle epsiode of Hulk, Jen, Lyra and Skaar to show the contrast of siblings and family

- Female power epsiode of Jen, Betty, Lyra, Carmilla and Marlo!

- Big ass epsiode where Brian comes back and Leader helps Hulk defeat Brian, becoming a king of hell but instead choosing to stay with his family when Ghost rider kneels before him

#the queen of smash (mun)#KSKSKSKSOSODI #IM SORRY IT ALL SPILLED OUT GUYS #@ marvel: lemme write HatAoS #anywayaaayyy what do u thiiiink???

8 notes · View notes

chingonaclawsarchive · 4 years ago

Text

* Note: Since LOGAN takes place in a dystopian world set in the 20th Century Fox world of their ‘XMEN’ in 2029 -- I’ve had to tweak Laura’s canon timeline to fit in with the MCU. These are my compiled ideas/notes for where Laura would/might fit in, according to the MCU timeline. This can also be amended/altered depending upon who I am writing with & whatever stories we come up with on the sides. I will update/list those verses within this list as well. XO. - Betty.

2012. AVENGERS. ✗ verse: ( mcu 001. avengers. ) i am not my enemy.

2002, Alkali-Transigen aka ‘Essex Corp’ ) conducts it’s second round of the Weapon-X program utilizing children ‘perfected’ in a lab/facility. Laura Howlett ( known as X23 amid the program ) was ‘born’ into the program, the daughter of an unknown Latina woman ( who is more than likely murdered by the company shortly after Laura’s birth ) & James Howlett aka The Wolverine. 2012, a 7 year-old ‘killing dream’ begins her hardcore training under the Transigen umbrella, having grown up within their cage and knowing nothing but life within ‘The Facility’. During the events of ‘The Avengers’, Transigen ( more than likely a subsidiary or sister-company to HYDRA ) attempts to gather knowledge/the power of the alien forces that attack Earth. It is quite possible during this attack, the Xmen join the Avengers. - Transigen utilizes newer technology to harness a killing serum that triggers and strengthens the children’s mutant abilities. Through the years they continue to medicate and test the formula out on the children, including Laura; to which they discover if they choose a specific target, she will stop at nothing until said target is vanquished.

2015. AGE OF ULTRON. ✗ verse: ( mcu 002. ultron. ) i can do anything.

2013, 8-year-old Laura, along with her ‘brothers and sisters’ attempt to escape from the underground jail in Mexico ( where she was ‘born’ ) when given word/hope of a safe haven full of mutant-kind. The children are provided stories with the help of comic books smuggled into the facility. Some of which include stories of The Avengers, while others house a storyline shadowing the truth about the XMEN. Upon their first attempt of escape, the children are unsuccessful, and Essex Corp demands that they relocate to a ‘more secure’ unit in New York City. In 2015, the attack of ULTRON commences, more or less rocking the hard walls of the New York facility to rubble. For the most part, with the help of HYDRA, Transigen is able to gather up their little ‘test subjects’, some having successfully gotten away, sadly Laura not being among them. 2016, an 11-year-old Laura with the help of the nurses, including Gabby, leads the pack to escape once more. It’s here Laura encounters her father ( Wolverine/James LOGAN Howlett ), Xavier & Caliban by psionic-ally following Charles’ guidance. During this timeline she goes on the wild chase, running from Transigen and relying on what remains of Logan’s strength. The climax ends with Xavier’s passing and Logan’s sacrifice, and the children successfully fleeing for the Canadian border to ‘Eden’ aka the safe haven which turns out to be a new school for the gifted, headlined by a group of vigilante mutants ( aka, the plotline of Mangold’s LOGAN. ) It should also be noted that during this time period, the X-men are dwindling/dying out, and going into hiding due to many people either wanting to lock them up out of fear or provide them ID badges and what not ( similar to the plot of the ‘Civil War’ in the comics. )

2017. CIVIL WAR. ✗ verse: ( mcu 003. civil war. ) my choice mine.

At 12, Laura quietly slips from the safe haven ( headmistress at this time being Emma Frost ) , feeling as though she’s really more of a danger than anything else, specifically due to the ‘death’ serum. Laura cannot control herself when injected with it, especially if she’s provided a ‘target’. To think she could end up killing one of her own terrifies her, not to mention the more she keeps running the less likely Transigen is to discover her. During the time of the Avengers’ ‘Civil War’ ( between Tony & Steve ), Laura is only a child but spotted through the streets of New York. A time or two, Tony witnesses the feral child having pick-pocketing or slyly stealing a thing or two of necessity. Unable to confine the child or discover her whereabouts, he becomes aware of the ‘mutant strain’ in DNA, now knowing there is far more to this life than other worlds, planets, Norse gods and experimental projects gone wrong like Banner -- Hydra’s been hiding the secret unit to which not only have they began to suppress the X-gene that creates the ‘mutants’ but that they’ve been testing the effects of their serums and juices and what have you on children more-or-less created in a lab with the specific function of utilizing them as some ultimate mutant army. It is a terrible and harsh reality and one he does not take to lightly. Contrary to the comics’ canon ( & the Xmen’s Civil War ) when Tony discovers she is a mutant child born and raised the way she was, he almost feels an obligation to protect her from others who felt mutants ought to be branded or ID’d and what not. ( A bit contradictory to the Xmen comics, I know, but it makes sense when you think of Steve/Capt America in the comics and how against Laura he was in the beginning, I feel he’d be a little apprehensive in the MCU as well. This could change depending upon whom I’m writing with. ) On the search for a place to help her ‘lay low’, Tony keeps her at the compound, until Pepper insists she just come on home with her. ( Again, this can be adapted depending upon the individual story. )

2018. HOMECOMING. ✗ verse: ( mcu 004. homecoming. ) are you sure i deserve salvation?

At age 13, since Pepper thinks it best that the pre-teenage girl get used to a ‘normal’ life, Laura begins attending public school, where she continues to attempt to ‘lay low’. Of course she does her very best to fit in, though there are many ‘human’ things she’s unaware of such as personal space and certain topics of speech. She basically follows the lead of people she feels she can trust like Peter Parker. Technically since Laura also ages much slower than most everyone, she will be a teenager for a longer period in her life. It is within these confines that she learns more about humanity, her compassion for the human race quite evident and her curiosity ever the more present. She spends a lot of time making up for lost time in her childhood, things she’s never discovered, places she’s never been -- a life she never knew she could have. 2019/2023. ENDGAME. ✗ verse: ( mcu 005. endgame. ) i’m f*cking wolverine.

During INFINITY WAR ( obviously just prior to this timeline ) Laura of course fights along side the team sustaining little to no injury even though she could’ve severed a limb or two, due to her mutation, she recovers rather quickly. Upon the realization that she could lose her family of mutants with Thanos’ plan, she scurries to get back to the school, begging many of the others to fight along side the Avengers. She succeeds in convincing several of the XMEN, including but not limited to Emma Frost, to take part in the battle... but it is only to their demise as her healing is too rapid for his ‘curse’ and rather than fluttering into ash, she witnesses all those she holds dear dissipate having to see, once again, the utter destruction of those she holds dear. It tears her apart from the inside. In 2023, Laura is just about to turn 17. -- Upon Tony’s return from space (2019), and the realization that Pepper hadn’t been taken away, Laura barricades herself within the hope she can have a somewhat normal family. She stays with Pepper and Tony, far away from the compound. She takes up her roll as a sister-figure to Morgan, something she absolutely takes seriously. She’d give it all up for this little girl -- hell, for this family. Tony stands in as an unlikely father-figure, but even moreso, Pepper as her mother. ( Again, these choices can be adapted/tweaked depending upon the storyline/plot we have -- maybe Laura grew up at the compound, or with someone else or with Aunt May... the possibilities/ what-ifs are endless... She could’ve also gone off on her feral way, etc etc. )

When the final battle hits, and those who were taken away appear within the portals, a sudden relief washes over her. She has much more to fight for, and she gives it her all. But it is at the loss of Tony where she feels her world crumble once more, wondering if she should go off on her own and call it good, because it seems no matter where she attempts to land, there is far more loss to be had. She contemplates whether or not Logan had it correct when he was always insistent they stay far away from people, isolate and keep to themselves. Of course that was a much different time in the world and Transigen/Hydra has/have more things to worry about than hunting her down lately -- still, it’s a threat. With Peter Parker’s ( and possibly others ) insistence, she remains close by. 2023/24. FAR FROM HOME. ✗ verse: ( mcu 006. far from home. ) el que con lobos anda a aullar se enseña.

Basically, Laura ( now, tech, post-snap almost 18 ) is hanging out with SHIELD, there to aid Peter where needed, more or less helping to keep an eye on him, along with Happy doing her best to stay out of trouble.

#ooc.#✗ soy yo. ╱ lil messican girl is ooooouuuttt.#( mcu timeline. )#✗ verse: ( mcu ) como se cura una herida.#✗ verse: ( mcu 001. avengers. ) i am not my enemy.#✗ verse: ( mcu 002. ultron. ) i can do anything.#✗ verse: ( mcu 003. civil war. ) my choice mine.#✗ verse: ( mcu 004. homecoming. ) are you sure i deserve salvation?#✗ verse: ( mcu 005. endgame. ) i’m f*cking wolverine.#✗ verse: ( mcu 006. far from home. ) el que con lobos anda a aullar se enseña.#long post #long post for ts #* i cannot express enough how laura is a MINOR in most if not ALL of these verses !!!!! k thank bye. xx #✗ ¿merezco la salvación? ╱ headcanon.

20 notes · View notes

misswildfire · 5 years ago

Text

Empathic Pain

For as long as Mikey had known, he had been different. He wasn’t just talking about the fact that he was a mutated turtle, or that he knew ninjutsu or that he lived in the sewers below New York City. No, this marked him different from his brothers. Don had once referred to him being an empath, or having the ability to sense other people’s emotions or mental state. He didn’t need to be in the same room to see his brothers body language to know how they were feeling. Touch made the emotions he felt from someone stronger. Getting pinned down and beaten by a group of Purple Dragons has disastrous consequences for the youngest turtle.

For @brightlotusmoon Thank you for all your support.

He found comfort in knowing what his brothers were feeling. It allowed him to be able to react as necessary, push when they needed it or back off when the situations called for it. Perhaps it was because he spent his life with his brothers he was use to their emotions, it was familiar, calming even. The first time he had really gone to the surface with his brothers and spent a longer period around humans had grated on him in ways he hadn’t expected. It had been exciting, new, scary, and very, very loud both in the physical sense and in the emotions that they projected.

Mikey wasn’t sure if he was just use to his brothers so their emotions weren’t as distracting, but he found himself constantly distracted by the emotions from the humans. The closer they were to him, the louder they were. The first time April had touched him, he had nearly passed out, her emotions quickly overwhelming him. He had gotten it a bit more under control now, happier emotions were easier for him to process and filter out, it was more negative emotions that he had a harder time dealing with.

Night was the best time to be on the surface for him. Even though New York was known as the City that Never Sleeps, most of the humans were asleep and when they slept, their emotions weren’t as loud. It gave him a break and allowed him to be able to enjoy his time topside.

Brought of his musing as he dodged another blow from a Purple Dragon. He and his brothers had been ambushed while on patrol and there were more of them than usual. Gritting his teeth he spun his nunchuks faster, taking out one that dared to get to close. He normally relied on his speed and agility to keep him out of his enemies reach. He hated being around them, the negative emotions, the hatred and disgust they felt towards him and his brothers sometimes left him breathless. The few times that someone experience some minor negative emotions like fear, had been physically painful when there had been physical contact.

So far he had been lucky that none of them have landed a physical blow during a fight, but tonight, his luck was about to run out. He was tired and his reactions must have been slower than normal. He had been up most of the previous night, for once not goofing off or playing video games or reading comics, but because he had been worried about Don who was burning himself out trying to upgrade their security system. He desperately wanted to help, take some of the burden off his purple masked brother, but he didn’t know how. He wasn’t good with technology and Don usually found him more of a hindrance than help. His senses dulled, he didn’t see the Purple Dragon sneak behind him and whack him in the back of the head with a staff, or see the other who came in to take him out at the knees causing him to crash to the ground.

Physical pain from fighting he could deal with, blows from weapons, or falling hard. He’d been training all his life and could deal and even brush most of that off and keep going. It was the physical pain from negative emotions caused by his empathy he didn’t know how to handle. When a Purple Dragon grabbed him and roughly flipped him over so he was laying on his shell, he couldn’t stop the whimper that broke free. White hot pain seared through him, threatening to quickly overwhelm him. Disgust, anger and hatred bombarded him. When another Dragon joined the first Mikey knew he was in trouble. He couldn’t stop them from taking his wrists and dragging them above his head, pinning him down or the third that grabbed his ankles and pinned him from there. The constant contact was absolutely hell. His wrists and ankles seared in pain as if in contact with something hot enough to burn. Part of him wanted to look and see if his skin was actually blistering. He tried to struggle, tried to get free, tried to recall the training that had been drilled into him his entire life, but the pain left him gasping for breath, unable to move. When another Purple Dragon started raining punches upon any available piece of skin he could reach, Mikey knew he was done for. A scream tore from his throat and his back arched involuntarily, body thrashing in an instinctual attempt to get away from the pain.

Never in his life had he experienced this level of pain before. Every inch of his skin felt on fire. His brain felt like mush, no longer able to process any emotions or any level of thought. He wasn’t aware of anything except the searing, excruciating pain that filled ever pore. So overwhelmed, he didn’t notice when the sources of his pain were ripped away from him, one by one. He didn’t notice as Donnie gathered him in his arms, murmuring reassurances to him. Moving was painful and he whimpered as Don moved.

He was so incredibly over stimulated that things that normally felt good, his brothers emotions, being held by them, left him feeling raw and aching. Nothing felt good, everything felt like white hot fire. His mind and body no longer able to take anything more, he lost consciousness, going limp in his mates arms.

Hearing his youngest mate scream in pain like that was something that was going to haunt Leonardo for a long time to come. Looking back on that moment later, he would wonder if he, Raph and Don shared a brain in that singular second. They moved as if one; Raph and Don racing to their orange clad mate and Leo finishing off the remainder of the Purple Dragons with a ferocity he had never felt before, taking a defensive position to protect his family in case their enemy dared to try and approach. Raph quickly disposed of the Purple Dragon scum who had dared to hurt his mate, allowing Don to quickly assess him for any critical injuries before scooping him in his arms and making a hasty retreat. Raph took the wheel, with Don and Leo piling in the back with Mikey still in the purple clad terrapins arms.

“Here, you take him,” Don murmured, feeling the need to keep his voice down. Accepting his youngest mate, Leo couldn’t help but raise his eyebrows at the genius. “He needs calm emotions and we all know you have the best control out of any of us.” He cradled Mikey close, quickly trying to centre himself. He wanted to rage, lash out, the anger that someone had dared hurt his mate churning inside him. He pushed it down, knowing he would have to experience and meditate through those emotions later. Right now, he needed to be calm, as the last thing he wanted was to cause any more pain.

“Will he be okay?” he asked, once he felt he had gotten his emotions under control.

“He will....eventually,” Don said, frowning. “But something needs to change. We were lucky that this was a relatively minor attack, but what if he had been worse?” The implication of what if their enemies got a hold of them and tortured or experimented on them hanging thick in the air. “We can’t bar him from patrol with us forever, but the status quo can’t remain the same either.” They all knew that Mikey hated to be excluded and not allowing him to come on patrol would not only put a rift between them, but could potentially do more harm to his mental health than anything. Besides, it wasn’t as if they really wanted to leave him behind.

“Any ideas?”

“Some sort of mental shield like you see in the movies?” Don shrugged. He really had no idea how to help their baby brother. “I’ve been looking into Mikey’s abilities on and off for years. Since it appeared that it was under control and he only ever mentioned that the humans were loud, I didn’t have any cause for concern...” Don shuddered visibly upset. “I never pursued it further. Clearly a massive error on my part.” Glancing at his only younger brother, the purple glad genius couldn’t help the sinking feeling that he had utterly failed in his one job to protect him. He could only hope that Mikey would forgive him one day.

“Don’t go there,” Raph rumbled from the drivers seat, having stayed uncharacteristically quiet up until this point. He desperately wanted to rage, to take out the anger he felt on their enemies but he knew right now his priority was getting his family back to the safety of their lair so Don could tend to their youngest mate. So he swallowed his anger, feeling it bubbling just below the surface. He knew it would break at some point, he had never been good at controlling his emotions, not like Fearless, but he was trying. He was definitely going to have a very intense workout later or spar with Leo to get it out of his system since there weren’t any Purple Dragons around for him to punch. “If you failed him, than so did we. We all knew how sensitive he is to our emotions, especially when he’s touchin’ us. It didn’t occur to any of us that this may cause a bigger problem since the humans were loud, so if you failed so did we. We all fucked up.” He glanced in the rear view mirror, smirking as he saw Leo frowning when he cussed. The more he got him worked up, the better their sparring match in and out of the bedroom would be later. It seemed to him they could both let off a little steam later, do them both good. Once they were certain that Mikey was going to be okay, that was.

“Don...” Leo looked down at the unconscious turtle in his arms. He wasn’t if what he was doing was helping at all, Mikey still looked to be in pain.

“Just keep holding him. His systems are probably overloaded right now. Besides, you know he loves cuddling you the most.” Don shot his older brother a half grin. It was true. Even as children, Mikey had always gone to Leo for cuddles, proclaiming that their eldest brother gave the best cuddles ever. They had all long suspected it was because Leo’s emotions were the most even and tranquil out of all of them. The youngest had once described Raph’s emotions as being like Raph himself, strong and intense. While Don on the other hand he had described as almost an electric buzzing, similar to the noise his electronics and computers in his lab made. His emotions ran quick, much like the thoughts in his head.

The leader of their little family nodded, hugging his youngest mate closer to his body. The feeling of being useless was nearly overwhelming. This wasn’t a physical enemy he could vanquish, he could do nothing to help the thunderous storm taking place inside Mikey, no matter how much he wished to. All he could do was hope that his emotions would break through and provide some peace for his little brother.

Stirring slightly, Mikey felt a soft, calm presence enveloping him. It felt oh so familiar but for the life of him, he couldn’t place it. Just beyond he felt two more presence that were familiar. It was at the tip of his tongue...why did they feel so familiar?

Mates.

He felt calm and safe, a far cry from the earlier pain he had been in. What had caused that pain again? Right. Purple Dragons. Ambush on patrol. Held him down. So much pain. He backed away from the memory, focusing instead on the comfort he was surrounded by. His mates must have rescued him. The thought brought him some comfort. At least he didn’t have to worry about more pain. Feeling the air shift around, he felt himself moving or being moved rather. Where were they bringing him? He could hear his mates voices, concentrating he tried to figure out what they were saying.

“Should I bring him to your Lab, Don?”

“No, he should be fine with some sleep, just put him to bed. If you or Raph could stay with him, that would be ideal. Mikey felt himself moving again before being placed on something soft. He could feel Leo’s worry. He really should wake up, he hated it when his eldest brother worried about him. Fighting his way towards the warmth that he could feel, he opened his eyes slowly.

“Did you catch the licence plate of that truck?” he tried to joke weakly, his mouth feeling dry. He could really use some water right now.

“Hey, how are you doing?” Leo murmured softly, pressing his forehead to his youngest mate.

“Been better,” he replied honestly, knowing better than to try and hide anything from Leo. It never worked out well for him in the end. He was achy, and sore and still felt completely out of whack. He bit his lip as his memory of the night fully returned. Oh boy. He had messed up royally. Tears gathered at the corner of his eyes. How much of a burden did he need to be for his family? Twice now they’ve had to rescue him. On top of being useless, he knew he was needy. He hated being alone and was forever pestering one of his mates to hang out with him. Did they even still want him? He couldn’t stop the tears from spilling over and trailing down his face. Perhaps it was better for everyone if he just left.

“Mikey, Mikey, hey, what’s wrong?” Leo ran his hands over his youngest mate, trying to find any injuries he had missed that would cause the youngest to cry like this.

“I- I really messed up, I’m sorry.” He buried his head in Leo’s plastron, not wanting to see the anger he was sure to be in his mate’s eyes.

The blue clad turtle blinked in confusion, momentarily stunned by the words he just heard coming from his youngest brothers mouth. “Michelangelo, sweetling, listen to me.” He waited patiently for Mikey to lift his head and look at him. “If anyone is owed an apology, it’s you. We’ve known about your ability for years now and we’ve never done anything to help you control it. We just assumed it was fully under control because you never said otherwise. You got hurt today because we failed you.”

Had they ever failed their youngest mate. Cupping the orange one’s jaw, he titled his mates head so he could slid his lips against the other in a chaste kiss. He smiled as Mikey sighed in pleasure, some of the tension in his body melting away.

“I want to show you how sorry I am, may I?” When Mikey nodded, Leo gently pushed him back into the plush mattress of his bed, trailing kisses down his plastron. His hands stroked the sensitive area of where their shell met flesh, knowing how much Mikey enjoyed the sensation. Purposefully, he moved past the swollen slit, glad he had the foresight to remove Mikey’s clothing before putting him to bed, instead turning his attention to his quivering thighs. He nipped each one in turn, soothing it with his tongue. When Mikey shifted his hips impatiently, he pinched his tail, loving the moan he got as a reward.

“Good things come to those who wait, Michelangelo,” he teased, pinching the others tail once more. His mate distracted by the attention on his tail, the leader leaned down, tongue licking the full length of his slit. He continued to lavish attention on the sensitive flesh, alternating licks, sucks and nips. His hands having moved to the younger’ hips, keeping him pinned in place, forcing him to accept the pleasure he was simultaneously seeking and trying to get away from, his senses still very much overstimulated from earlier.

“Drop down for me,” he demanded, the answering whine the only warning he got before his mates cock revealed itself to his gaze. “You’re so good for me,” he praised before taking Mikey into his mouth, quickly working his way down to the hilt. His goal of trying to keep the younger off balance, not knowing what to expect, so he had no choice but to focus on the feelings he was experiencing now, seemed to be working. Humming, he reached down to play with Mikey’s tail as he started to bob up and down slowly, intent on working his mate into a frenzy. It didn’t take long for Michelangelo to become a sobbing, pleading mess, but he kept his pace, knowing that the longer he drew it out, the more intense the orgasm would be. He knew exactly how to play his younger brothers pleasure like a fiddle. His thumb circling the puckered hole, his two fingers squeezing his mates tail gently, Leo knew it wouldn’t be much longer. Taking him once more down to the hilt, he relaxed his throat, he swallowed, knowing the sensation would send Mikey tumbling over the edge.

Making sure to lick him clean from root to tip, Leo moved to lay down beside Mikey, gathering his younger mate in his arms.

“How are you feeling now?” he asked, nuzzling into Mikey’s throat.

“So good, gimme a minute dude and I can return the favour.”

“No, tonight was about you. I’m fine.” And he was. It was enough for him that his mate was home safe, his other two mates were somewhere else in the lair. He knew as much as Raph liked to push the rules and go out, he would stay in tonight, most likely comforting Donatello who never took one of his brothers being injured, especially if he thought it was something he could have prevented well. His family was together and they were safe and that was all that he needed. For now, they would sleep, the exhaustion written on Mikey’s face was as plain as day to him. He had a feeling the youngest of them would have a very busy morning with his two elder brothers wanting to make up the wrongs they’ve committed to him.

Saving those thoughts for the morning, he pulled the blankets up around them and settled into sleep, Mikey securely in his arms.

#tmnt bayverse #tmnt #teenage mutant ninja turtles #tcest #tmnt imagines #leonardo x michelangelo #leo x mikey #ot4 implied #raph x don #leo x raph x don x mikey #leo/raph/don/mikey #tmnt leo #tmnt mikey #tmnt raph #tmnt donnie #empath mikey #hurt comfort #tmnt headcannons

40 notes · View notes

talpup · 5 years ago

Text

Lost Song: 1

Summary: The war between the Dragons and Griffons ended 233 years ago, and both races right along with it.

Or so it was believed. There are three individuals that will soon change that.

Kai is the last of the Dragons and he seeks to take what he sees as his rightful place and rule over all of Oblvi. Meanwhile, Shouta, the last Sphinx, wants nothing more than to do his job; keep the peace and and teach the young Fourth’s to hopefully avoid the mistakes of their ancestors. And Teris, a Foundling who is just trying to understand and survive in this strange new world that is supposedly her own.

All three have their own wants and desires, but Kai’s plans, Teris’ existence, and Shouta's past mean that none of them may get what they want.

***So this fic will have a LOT more world building than my others. Please feel free to comment. For those who have read my Chaos fic, yes, I'm reusing the term Oblvi. Words are hard and I liked the term; but this fic isn't connected to Chaos. The same goes for reader/oc's name being Teris. She's not the same Teris from Erase the Shadow.

This fic is rated explicit and has warnings of sex, violence, and other possible triggers.

If you prefer reading off AO3 here’s the link for that: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24009679

Special thank you to @inorganicone2230 who knows of my love for the mythic and encouraged me to start this fic without stressing about the other two I’ve got going. Your friendship means the world to me. And I can’t wait to go down the rabbit hole of ideas with in for this fic.

1.1

“What do you mean she wants to give him back!”

The Arbitrators snarl caused the already nervous Miyashita to hiccup and vanish. With a swallow the Changeling slowly reappeared.

“I—it—it is not a matter of want.” The nervous Sprite responded. “Rather a matter of necessity.”

The Arbitrator glared at the little man seated across from his desk. As a rule, Enji didn’t trust things he couldn’t look in the eye. So it didn’t help his annoyance that he had to stretch his back and lean slightly forward in order to see the Changeling given that the Sprites forehead barely reached the level of the desks polished surface.

“Explain.” Enji demanded when the Sprite showed no sign of going on.

“Well, ah, you see--” Miyashita stalled looking every where but at the frightful Manticore.

Enji growled his impatience, struggling to keep his human form. To think that this little gnat had had the nerve to chitter at him for offering a book on which to boost his child-like frame upon.

“The thing is.” Miyashita went on with carefully. “Her Ladyship would not be able keep the Reaping even if she wanted, for he is not human.”

Not human! Enji blinked. A second Foundling in as many days. This was just great. At least the first, a woman, hadn’t been discovered during a Changeling Reaping. Though Enji couldn’t decide if that was worse or better. In any case, this would certainly garner the Council’s attention. Something nobody wanted.

1.2

“Aizawa. Please, come in.” Nedzu beckoned.

Shouta stepped into the Director of Traverseen Halls office and closed the door. At the sight of Yagi and Todoroki, Shouta’s shoulders slightly tensed. Thankfully, in human form his black hair was long enough to cover his neck and no one noticed the brief rise of his heckles.

“Please. Take a seat. We have much to discuss.” Director Nedzu urged.

Shouta did so choosing to take the open chair near the Arbitrator rather than Toshinori. Sinking into the too soft seat, Shouta tried to think of any trouble his class of 1-A might have caused last time they were in town. It was the only explanation he could think of for why both the area Arbitrator and Toshinori, the area Elder, were here.

Coal black eyes on the Director, Shouta questioned. “What’s this about? I have class in twelve minutes.”

“This will take longer than twelve minutes I’m afraid. But there’s no need to worry about your students. I sent Nemuri to cover your class.” Nedzu told.

Shouta's eyes narrowed. Though the animal looking creature tried to sound his usual chipper self, he could hear a tight telling of concern in the Hybrid’s voice. The Sphinx sniffed. His pure blood and Nedzu’s overly mixed meant that he could smell it too.

He wondered if Todoroki could smell Nedzu’s unease. While dragons, griffons, and sphinx's were the most ancient of beasts; manticore's were older than most. It afforded the species better honed senses, especially if they were pure bloods. Something Arbitrator Todoroki was overly proud of. Honestly, Shouta was surprised the respect Todoroki showed a hybrid like Nedzu, whose lineage was so mixed and mutated that even Nedzu himself couldn’t say what all he was.

Unlike pure bloods, hybrids carried remnants of their true form over into their human form. The more muddled ones blood became the more remnants got carried over. Nedzu’s lineage was so mixed that he couldn’t alter the image of the humanoid animal he appeared as. And given the fact that Fourth’s who couldn’t change into more human-like forms were thought of as less at best, Nedzu had faced a hard life. Not that one could tell by his usually bright personality.

“Tea.” Nedzu offered the three men seated before his desk.

Enji and Shouta shook their heads, while Toshinori politely took a cup.

Curiosity and impatience getting the better of him, Shouta spoke up. “Sir. I ask again. What is this about?”

Nedzu set down the tea pot. “That’s why I like you, Aizawa. Focused. Straight to the point. Something that was rarely found in your species.”

“I wouldn’t know.” Shouta deadpanned. He was the last of his kind. Locked in stone as a cub and found long after the dragons and griffons thought they had extinguish his species.

Enji huffed, crossing his arms. He felt no sympathy for Aizawa's loss. The way he saw it it was sphinx-kinds own fault for not siding with the dragons.

Toshinori lowered his cup of tea. The reminder of what dragon and griffon kind had done when the sphinx's refused to chose a side in the Dragon-Griffon War still sat ill with him despite him having served the griffons.

Nedzu knew well enough that Aizawa wasn’t seeking sympathy or calling anyone out for their past allegiances. The Sphinx was merely stating a fact. “Arbitrator, if you would.”

Enji uncrossed his arms. “A week and half ago, the Changeling Queen of a local clan visited Terra for a sanctioned Reaping. Unfortunately she couldn’t keep her claim as the being she reaped turned out not to be a Fourth.”

“A foundling Fourth.” Shouta mused. “Irregular to find one young enough that it hasn’t realized what it is, but not impossible. Sprites more than any other Fourth like to mess with humans. Despite the Council’s laws, Changeling’s will find a way to trade their young for human children.”

“As a member of the Ilca it’s your job to stop them.” Enji rumbled.

“Your opinion of me flatters. But I’m only one sphinx. I can’t be everywhere.” Shouta stared at the reddening Arbitrator a moment before going on. “Besides, some Fourth foundling isn’t what this is about. Such a clear and simple breach of Council law wouldn’t interest both you or the area Elder.” He glanced passed Todoroki to Yagi. “So I ask again. What is this about?”

Shouta realized he was being rude but he didn’t care. He had a class to get to. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Nemuri not to let 1-A run rampant...okay, that was precisely it.

Not one to be rushed by anyone, and certainly not some member of the Ilca, Enji went on. “The Foundling the Changeling Queen reaped is a man. Obviously young. Says he’s twenty-nine. Likely a hybrid of sprite and spirit. Though time will tell exactly which species his lineage is. But that’s not all. The day prior to that a trader whose license allows him to bring goods in and out of Terra returned with a Foundling of his own. A woman. The trader was a Derrick, said he sensed the presence of a Fourth and followed it discovering an unconscious woman in an alley. Unable to rouse her and finding no pass that allowed her to be in Terra he brought her back with his load. Since the woman claims she doesn’t know the Derrick and only regained consciousness once here we had no way of verifying his story. Derrick’s are tricksy creatures--”

“They’re a benevolent species known for pranks of little harm.” Shouta interrupted.

“That hardly means the Derrick is telling the truth.” Enji bristled.

Rather than argue, Shouta looked across to Yagi. “What does the area Elder think?”

Toshinori set down the tea cup. “I believe him. The Derrick has no reason to lie.”

Enji scoffed. Yagi might be a powerful Talos, but he was too kind. Too trusting. The Elder’s compassionate, charitable nature made him weak in Enji’s eyes. He would've been a better Elder. The area needed a firmer, less accepting leader.

Shouta smirked into his scarf-like piece that served as restraints and a weapon of sorts. He had never really cared for the boisterous, attention hungry Elder. But if they insisted on making him late for class, the least he could do was irk the Manticore by reminding him of his lesser place to Yagi.

The Sphinx fixed his gaze on Nedzu. “As intriguing as all this is, Sir. What does it have to do with me or Traverseen Hall in general?”

“Both Foundlings are to be trained and placed in your Ilca.”

Shouta's mouth opened. He worked alone. And with good reason. Though the species divided by the Dragon-Griffon War were slowly coming back together, there was one species. One person. That they all hated. Him.

“I know what you’re thinking.” Nedzu said.

“Do you?” Shouta asked.

“The Foundlings don’t know about our history. They won’t care that you’re a sphinx.”

“I work alone.” Shouta said.

“Correction. You <em>worked</em> alone.”

Shouta frowned into his scarf-like piece at Todoroki’s taunting words.

Yagi cleared his throat. Only he, Todoroki, and Nedzu knew that the woman was a griffon. But if she was to be part of Aizawa's Ilca, he thought it important for the Sphinx to know.

Sensing the Elder's plan, Nedzu spoke up. “Discovering what either of them are is of secondary consequence at the present. Neither of them remember anything about who they truly are, if they ever knew in the first place. They didn’t even know Oblvi existed and therefore know nothing of our world. The goal is to see that they have the tools and ability to survive.”

“And you don’t think making them part of my Ilca is counter productive to their survival?” Shouta questioned, levelly. Just being part of his Ilca would make things unnecessarily difficult on them when it came to making acquaintances, never mind friends.

Nedzu ignored the query. “Seeing as you have a full schedule teaching and being an active Ilca, I have ordered Oboro to instruct and train the male Foundling. And Kai do to the same with the female.”

Kai. Shouta's teeth pressed together at the mention of the Dragon. “So you think she’s a beast of some kind?”

Nedzu nodded. “She’s certainly not a spirit, sprite, or demon.”

Shouta sighed. At least she was of the same division as he. But the other Foundling? It wasn’t that he had anything against spirits or sprites…

Still ill at ease about keeping the truth of the woman’s lineage from the Council, Enji stated. “Yagi and I have spoken with the Council. They are eager to learn exactly what kind of Fourth’s the two are.”

Boisterous voice taking on a more serious edge, Yagi told Aizawa. “I’m more concerned with seeing that these two learn how to survive and don’t inadvertently hurt someone. Proper instruction and first hand experience are vital to that. Sending them out with an Ilca member will give them both. Especially if that Ilca member is an accomplished teacher.”

Shouta disregarded the compliment, silently cursing the Elder’s reasonable thinking. Tiresome as it was, the idea was logical. The two foundlings clearly weren’t some young-lings to be enrolled in the Ilca course at Traverseen Hall. A three year sedate course of learning would only be a danger to themselves and others. Being older their power would be greater. They needed to learn to control it as quickly as possible. While throwing them into the fire might seem a recipe for disaster. It was only rational way to assure their power displayed itself and force them to control it.

Still, Shouta didn’t like being saddled with two members to his Ilca. As much as he liked teaching, he worked alone. Not to mention the hassle and danger of not knowing what kind of Fourth’s they were.

As if reading his mind, Nedzu said. “Aside from basic base instincts, once they learn and begin to display their inherent abilities, we will be able to narrow down what kind of Fourth’s they are.”

Shouta nodded in agreement. While a particular species instinct didn’t always run true or as strong for every Fourth of that species; that, combined with the inherent abilities, should give them a better idea of what kind of Fourth they were. They already knew the divisions of the two. Beast for the woman. And spirit and sprite for the man. The next step would be to learning what phylum they were part of, then class, followed by order, tribe, genus, and finally species.

Shouta cursed his own species inherent love of puzzles and riddles. Even if given a choice by the three seated around him, he wouldn’t have been able to say no to such a tempting mystery.

“I’ll take them.”

1.3

A knock on Kai’s office door sounded. “Enter.”

Teris eyed the man that had escorted her, slowly walking passed him to enter the room.

“Kai. The Foundling female.” Hari introduced.

“I have a name.” Teris snapped. She looked to the man behind the desk, her breath catching in her throat.

Kai’s head shot up, gold eyes lifting. The aura she gave off. The prideful power…

Teris chalked her hammering heart and tingling senses up to the events of the last three days and not the man seated before her. “Where’s Hizashi?”

“Who?”

“The other Foundling.” Hari explained.

Kai’s disappointment was palatable. For a moment he had thought. Had hoped that she was a dragon. Just the feeling of ancient, unbridled power she gave had excited and thrilled him. But that excitement and interest diminished in an instant. Dragons weren’t pack Fourth’s and whatever this woman was, she clearly was if she cared enough to ask about the other Foundling whereabouts.

Setting aside the quill, Kai closed pushed away the stack of orders. “The other Foundling will be learning with those from his own division. You will be learning with yours.”

“Beasts.” Teris said, pulling the word from memory. A lot had been said to her and Hizashi these last few days, it was hard to remember and keep it all straight.

“At least you’re not completely oblivious.” Kai muttered under his breath.

“I have a three masters and was close to getting my doctorate before--” Teris stopped. These people. These things didn’t need to know about her abduction and trouble she had escaped from before being found and brought over. More over being taken was a sign of weakness and every instinct she had was telling her not to appear weak before this golden eyed man.

“Your Terra education will be of little good here.” Kai dismissed, not at all surprised she had heard him. Excellent hearing was a trait of most beasts. Simmering eyes focused on her. “Though I can appreciate your obvious interest in learning. I myself enjoy the endeavor of bettering not just my body but my mind.”

If her world hadn’t been turned upside down, Teris might've remarked that his body didn’t require any bettering; but she kept the passing thought to herself.

“Let’s start properly, shall we. I am Chisaki Kai. That’s Kurono Hari.”

“And what kind of creatures—Fourth’s are you?”

“That’s impolite to ask.” Hari grumbled.

Kai held up a staying hand. “True. But forgivable. I’m a dragon. Hari’s an arepyiai. And you are?”

“I—I don’t know.” A part of her still wondered if she should be here. The other, great part, still questioning if this was all real. Maybe she was still back in that cell. Her abductors…

“Why don’t we start with your name.” Kai suggested.

“Nova. Teris.”

“And may I call you Teris?”

Teris nodded.

“Good. You may call me Kai. What don’t you show me your true form.”

Teris’ hand pressed to her shirt collar. “M—my what?”

“Hari.” Kai commanded.

Hari changed into his true form. It was a startling sight. Unlike more ancient Fourth’s, arepyiai’s were far from beautiful. More horrid miss-mash of the two root species that arepyiai stemmed from. He had the bird-like lower body of a harpy, along with their smaller wings. While his torso was lion-like with the head of an eagle, showing the griffon part of his species lineage.

Teris jumped back.

Kai noted her quickness even in human form, adding it to the list of telling things about her that would eventually reveal what she was. “Your turn.”

“I—I can’t do that.”

“Afraid there’s not enough room? Don’t worry. Traverseen Hall was built with dwarf magic. The room was made to accommodate Fourth’s in their true from. It will expand as much as required.” Kai offered.

“That’s… Not what I meant.”

Kai sighed. It was foolish to think it would be so easy. “Fine. We met. I will teach you. Be back here first thing in the morning.”

It wasn’t as if he had much of a choice. The Rat, Nedzu, hadn’t given him a choice.

“That’s it.” Teris blinked.

Hari already back in human form, had the door open, ushering arm extended.

“The day is nearly done and I have work to do.” Kai stated.

He couldn’t help a small smile. She was pretty. And if she was bright enough to have three masters from Terra, she might be a welcome diversion from the rigors of his goal.

Hari returned shortly after seeing her out. “What do you think?”

“Too soon to tell. But whatever she is, her species is old. It’s inconvenient. Having her around. Even if it’s just during the day.”

“Wonder if the Rat suspects.”

Kai shook Hari’s concern away. “Even if Nedzu suspects anything. A Foundling would make for a terrible spy. She doesn’t know enough about anything to find something out of sorts.”

“Even so. I’ll order the rest of the Ilca to be careful when she’s around.”

Kai nodded, pleased. He was just glad that his Ilca had a full complement of eight and the Foundling couldn’t be assigned to it. That definitely would've made his plans all the more difficult. He had the thought of teaching her the old way. The true and right way of things.

“Whose Ilca was she placed in?”

“Aizawa's.”

Kai frowned at that. The thought of teaching her suddenly became all the more appealing.

I write for my own enjoyment, but edit and post for yours. If you enjoyed reading this at all please comment and let me know. It’s the only thing that encourages me to keep editing and posting.

#bnha #aizawa shouta #shouta aizawa #kai chisaki #chisaki kai #todoroki enji #yagi toshinori #bnha nedzu #hari kurono #my hero academia #lost song

12 notes · View notes