#when the angel blade is also a damocles sword

[tsukiyo-7]

(Eternally, eternally)

Do you like the way it feels?

Like fire from the heavens

Carving past the surface into you

Do you like the way it feels?

Like fire from the heavens

Tearing me asunder beside you

[piichivii]

[Image ID: A sketch on a white background with a warm reddish overlay, depicting a feminine and muscular Wizard101 OC with green hair in a low ponytail, tan skin, and pointed ears. She stands haughtily with a white cane in her right hand and her left hand on her hip. A recolored Enchanted Armament pet in red, white, and gold, floats by her shoulders. Her outfit is a red, white and gold techwear inspired outfit containing red and gold strips patterned with symbols for the School of Balance. She wears red and gold sunglasses and gold earrings. The sketch is signed "PIICHỊVY 2022". /.End ID]

hello wizzy friends, and thank u all for the warm welcome 🥺 u guys r so sweet n i hope the year has been treating yall well

i’ll b answering some comments on my last piece w/ some compositional notes + wip shot below the cut!

im obsessed with the title for this piece like. i dont know ur oc or whatever personal story/AU they've got but even so this is. powerful they're a balance wizard. they're the blind angel of Judgement. they've got Power Nova behind em: the birth of a new star they've got a smile on their face and their stance isn't rigid straight. they're swayed the dark soul is heavier than the light feather of truth are the 5 blades a reference to tarot? or like. blades in wizzy that buff your spells?

also a balance wizard w a god comex is so antithetical i love it

so gonna b real here “god_complex” came from me saving the initial sketch and thinking “man homegirl’s got some bde here” LOL. i’m not entirely sure if she does have a god complex or not, but i love your interpretation of the piece! frankly, i try not to get attached to the little details of my characters since i tend to be more concerned about crafting a larger and thematically cohesive narrative, so their characterization is really flexible. i actually find this concept of an antithetical sorcerer w/ a god complex REALLY saucy, so this has all been a happy coincidence of me just wanted to draw a fun cool scene. when i first imagined this piece, i’m fairly certain it was while my homies n i were pressing the delete button on a random boss LOL so really, it was a bit of my own hubris as a “god complex” than my oc’s! i haven’t gone past polaris yet so who knows! maybe she WILL go down her corruption arc :O

the only concrete thing here is that she’s meant to be a successor to ma’at (judgement), hence the whole judgement imagery. it makes me giddy inside as an illustrator to see that these compositional elements communicated that sufficiently 😊

(like a fool i deleted my sketches so this is the oldest remaining screenshot of my sketch orz)

here r some compositional notes about the piece:

mistress of judgement—blindfold, wings, scales of time (include heart+maat feather) ((i also wanted to make the staff ridiculously huge to be cool; i included a counterweight at the other end but it got covered up by the sandstorm)), halo for the Cool Factor, khopesh ((this was later changed to the sword of kings, then later to dragonblade))

bladestorm encircling enveloped by wings ((or more accurately mechanics-wise, balanceblade+enchant balanceblade+bladestorm+enchant bladestorm+dragonblade; i like to imagine that in a solo context the 4 bladestorms would just stack up to b used later LOL initially i wanted to do the crossed blades, but it ended up being compositionally messy so i scrapped that. while sketching i DID consider tarot imagery though 5 and 4 didn't really fit akdhkfkf anymore than 4 blades encircling and it would've been messy, and less and it would've been lacking. also, initially the blades were pointed down, but i decided against it to better represent them as charms bc i couldn't stop thinking of the sword of damocles which would be more of a threat LOL))

power nova, framed by raised wings ((it's been my aoe of choice + i like the implication that balance as an "element" is part sand part (sun)light; i also wanted to somewhat evoke ra imagery too by having power nova as the sun w/ its rays of light))

swirling sandstorm below ((i was just really taken by the sandstorm animation update bc it's so sparkly and pretty—girl got such a glow up. a bit of a happy accident but my friend interpreted it as chastisement n i was like yea that works too LOL. another happy accident was the red cast ending up evoking balance of power c: although power play was such a fun meme play))

modified alhazzy fit w/ balance pattern trim + cowl + no shoes + inspo from kim kassas’s walk like an egyptian ((hoo boy that collection has so many hot fits. not historically accurate but idgf it fucks. i was having trouble thinking of a suitable design since none of the in-game robes really suited the image i had in mind but this collection was The One. anyways i absolutely Love the balance pattern trim and i'm Very Offended girls don't get to use maroon to match w/ it. i made a csp brush for this bc no way in hell was i gonna handdraw all those LOL. if u want the brush n some other assets i made or ripped from kingsisle u should check the source link ;))) also you can't see the toes in the final render but in my sketches i ditched the ugly boots it's just a lil soleless footwrap now. ALSO i’m distraught that it slipped my mind to give her these earrings that mimicked the pans of a balance scale 😭))

(from the cities in dust fw 13 lookbook)

buff lady of the blades ((another happy accident was the final product exuding "muscular women think they're gods/know your place" energy. i'll draw that later after i finish some of the stuff i've been planning, if i remember about it LOL))

the "u know im cool" grin bc we abt to delete some mobs 😎 ((fun fact: my friend wants her to aoe him))

nyways thank u again wizzy friends n i wish u all the loveliest day and if someone is ruining it for u, we accept offerings to feed ammit she’s gettin hungy

[bunathebunny]

mercury

@jasonette-july-2k20

Jasonette July 2020’s prompt ‘Villain AU’

Want to read on AO3?

Marinette, Jason thinks, is dangerous.

She is the kind-hearted daughter of a pair of bakers. She is the dependable friend everyone would love to have. She is also the monarch butterfly of Paris.

Mariposa is a new player in this game of half-truths and white lies and the sword of Damocles. She rose from thin air: a formless voice at first, coordinating her own team until the day she descends onto the battlefield like a fallen angel and steers the Syndicate’s operators away.

Her eyes, like mercury in the sun, glimmers with some sort of amusement as she stares at the little corner where Talon is hidden in. And she smiles, like the sweetest honey.

“Little owlets should fly back to their nest,” she tilts her head like she is face to face with a puzzle and coos, condescension dripping from every word. “It is a bit too early for them, is it not?”

He burns.  It scorches him to the core as if there are thousands of tiny suns under his skin. The demand for blood roars in his ears and his hand wraps around the familiar hilt of one of the throwing knives.

He might not be the first to be Talon neither is it his birthright for the mantle. His aim, however, speaks of the hellish training where he was broken down and rebuilt – reforged into the blade that is fit for Owlman’s hand.

There is a thinnest red line where his knife touches her skin, the barest hint of blood beading at her chin. This is where fear would bloom like a flower on the face of his victims and Talon would laugh before a cut across their throat free them from their misery.

The smile on Mariposa’s lips turn into a full grin that is full of teeth, bared like a predator finding amusement in its prey’s struggle.

Red looks fetching on her.

Owlman sent him on a reconnaissance mission. A chance, Richard leered, to spread his wings.

The little bakery looks homey with the lovely aroma of freshly baked bread. The people frolic around like ants around a piece of crumb, rushing and going on with their insignificant lives.

Jason relaxes into his seat, fingering the edge of the page of the novel he brought to pass the time. The cup of coffee smells heavenly amidst the bread and cookies and sweets.

He pointedly does not look up from his book when the cashier approaches, each step too silent for someone who lives a carefree life without the darkness that he wades through each night.

“Dear customer,” her voice is the sugary sweets that the little kids love. “Would you like another cup of coffee?”

He turns the page and waits. A second then two and three and before he knows it, she has been there for a full minute, quiet as a statue and still beaming away with the fake, fake smile.

“May I help you?” he looks up from his book, letting irritation mars his tone and displeasure paints his features.

Anyone else and they would recoil, perhaps stuttering some of the poorest excuse while backpedaling from where they came from. The little girl smiles still.

He wonders if it would stay on her lips when he taints them with blood.

Monarchs are poisonous. Talon prefers anything but poisons.

Their size, he thinks, might have been one of the factors. Mariposa is slight and delicate, like a court lady hiding a well-hidden blade in her silk sleeves. Talon came from the dirtiest streets where tooth and nails are sacrificed for another day of breathing.

Mariposa smiles when their eyes meet across the room. Talon wants nothing but to make her bleed, to dye her in red and sully those lips with blood.

“Thank you for having us,” Mariposa inclines her head, demure like a house cat but Talon knows better than to trust her tone.

After all, those that are most beautiful are the most dangerous.

Honey catches flies and Mariposa, contrary to her name, is a spider spinning her webs. She bows her head like the demure girl that she is not and phrases her words in the way that paints the illusion of her as an innocent little fawn amidst the lions.

Talon wishes nothing more that ripping that façade away, tearing that mirage until it is nothing but little bits and pieces of lies. He wants to undress her to the last layers until she is bared under him, painted in the red that suits her more than the purple of her brooch.

He wonders how her blood would taste on his tongue.

“She is not as she appears,” Richard murmurs into his ear and the tip of his blade teasing against the carotid on the side of his neck. “Did you know that, Little Wing?”

Owlman continues to type like his one of his two protégés is not holding a knife to his other protégé’s throat. He never interferes and maybe Jason hates him for that.

He swallows and wills his pulse to slow down. Time and time and the feeling of blade against his skin is never one he can get used to.

Talon is not to show weakness. A moment of hesitation is enough to cripple a bird.

“Of course,” he grits out, smoothing down his haywire nerves. “Who do you think did the reconnaissance?”

Richard hums and the knife shifts minutely, still too much close for his liking.

Jason trusts Richard about as far as he can throw him. He would not put it past his predecessor to slit his throat and make it look like an accident. After all, it was Richard who taught him that particular art amongst many others.

“Talon’s place is by Owlman’s side,” comes the whisper – a warning against his ear. “Birds of a feather stick together.”

The cashier hands him the bill, smiling like she knows something that Jason does not. There is another piece of folded paper.

Internally, he snorts. Must be her number.

“Little owlet,” says the cashier, like a cat that got the canary. “Enjoy your meal.”

He is ready to whip out one of his hidden knives and Mariposa thumbs the brooch at her neck, eyes glinting like mercury.

Fire runs in his veins.

“I am Marinette Dupain-Cheng,” she murmurs into his ear, the touch of her finger against his skin burns as poison courses through his veins. “I am Mariposa, the monarch of Paris.”

He heaves through painful gasps of air that seem to be determined to tear his lungs apart. His vision swims and the only thing he can fixate on is the grin full of teeth that speaks of danger.

“I dislike sharing what is mine,” she croons and her eyes glows like mercury: dangerous and beautiful. “You understand, don’t you, little bird?”

[dragonrajafanfiction]

Chisei Gen, the Devil Emperor

Ruri Kazama hit the wall of the well, but, as hard as he hit, he still didn’t die. He reached out and pulled the two Devil killing knives that had gone through his chest, feeling a subconscious urge to walk towards the burning wreckage. He didn’t know if he wanted to confirm his brother’s death or, if he wanted to say a few more words to him before he died. But now, what more can they say? He stopped at a distance and stared at the fire, seeming to have lost his memory again.

His attachment to and resentment towards his elder brother was hidden in his heart, but the boy who was attached to his elder brother had been overshadowed by Osho, so that when he was supposed to be sad, he couldn’t feel anything but emptiness.

“So sad this doomsday... the family that has stretched for thousands of years, the guardians of Japan has just ended its final mission.” Standing next to the burning wreck, Osho lamented in a poetic voice, “ From now on, there is no such thing as an Emperor Hybrid.”

“But that’s okay,” He smiled faintly again, “It was out of dated from the beginning.”

Ruri Kazama ignored his hypocritical manner, and silently lowered his head to dig at his bloody chest with his hands, like a puppet inquiring about his non-existent heart.

Osho squeezed the suitcase in his hands and the quartz capture capsule went into the box. He had already gotten what he had dreamed of all his life. It was time to leave the well.

At this moment, a huge heartbeat came from behind him, like a death knell that suddenly rang, like something returning from hell! White scaled hands pierced the metal skin of the helicopter wreckage and crystal clear claws grasped the head of the king!

The fire in the cabin sucked in and became increasingly fierce. It was as though something huge were breathing inside the cabin. Every time it breathed, it sucked a massive amount of air inside. When it exhaled, the light of the fire gushed from every gap in the cabin.

Overwhelmed with terror, the suitcase fell from Osho’s hand. Not only was the pressure from he sharp claws getting unbearable, but the sound of the breathing in the cabin also weighed on his heart. But he couldn’t struggle, even with his immortal body. He couldn’t so much as struggle against this pale claw! He could only use his eyes to signal Ruri Kazama for help.

Now, only the long knife in Ruri Kazama’s hand could cut off this steel-like claw. But Ruri Kazama did not move, instead, his dim eyes lit up again. He watched with interest as the sharp claw slowly tightened, as Osho’s mask collapsed, as blood dripped from the cracks.

The wreckage shattered, torn apart by the hands that owned those claws. Several people approaching the wreckage were immediately killed by flying burning debris.

A dazzling white shadow came out of the flames. He can no longer be called a human. He is such a beautiful and hideous creature. The knotted muscles and stark tendons declare how powerful this incredible body is. And the transparent scales on the surface of his skin showed a moving golden red in the firelight, like a golden red brocade. The skin on his back cracked open to allow slender wing bones to emerge and stretch out for the first time. The bloody wounds left behind healed at a speed visible to the naked eye, stitching together bulging back muscles.

His face was now covered in a bony exoskeleton and could no longer laugh or cry. The newborn Chisei breathed up into the sky, the roar of the wind in his throat.

He is something between an angel and a devil, an error that shouldn’t be in this world.

“Dragon blood! You... did you use dragon blood?!” Osho exclaimed

“Yes, as an ‘Emperor’, I couldn’t kill you, but as a ‘Devil’, I can surpass even the limits of Emperor.” Chisei Gen said softly, “I have been a Devil-slayer my whole life, but I didn’t understand until now, why those Devils yearned for power.”

He looked up at the dark night sky, the rain pattering on that hard face: “When you are in the endless darkness, how can you not fly, like moths, into the fire?”

With a violent force behind his hands, his claws penetrated into Osho’s skull. It broke, popping open like a water pipe. He threw Osho’s corpse on the ground and lowered his golden eyes like an emperor to observe, until he he saw the light leave the man’s gaze and the corpse didn’t move again.

Osho died like this. This evil spirit that survived Black Swan Harbor, who had mastered everything from start to finish, was once suspected to be the strongest hybrid in the world, couldn’t even make a counterattack before he died. He was completely surpassed by the Dragonborn Chisei Gen. When the Emperor turns Devil, the Devils can only cry!

“Your master is dead. Don’t you care?” Chisei Gen stared at Ruri Kazama.

“Isn’t it good to die? In my opinion, he should have died.” Ruri Kazama showed a weird smile, “now, finally, no one is arguing any more. Only the two of us are left. At the end of this story, there should only be the two of us, right?”

“Right. I’m here to see you.”

“But look at the way you look now. What is the difference between me and you? You wanted to kill me back then because I was a Devil. Now you have become one. Is this the gift that Masamune Tachibana left for me?”

“Yes. Maybe it’s the best gift I have ever received in my life.”

When Chisei Gen had arrived at the shrine, the chief priest had handed the golden-lacquered wooden box to him. He said that Chisei Gen had given already been given the key. It was hidden in the handle of Tachibana Masamune’s weapon, the blade of Wisdom. No wonder he heard something clinking in there when he drew it. 

Before going to see Erii, in the quiet back room, he opened the wooden box alone. Inside was a quartz glass tube cooled and preserved by liquid nitrogen. In the tube was a blackened reddish liquid in a semi-solid state. Masamune Tachibana left no letter or explanation, but Chisei Gen already understood what was hidden in the box.

Many years ago, when Masamune Tachibana was Bondarev, he collected precious fetal blood from the bilge of the Lenin. Compared to Osho’s evolution serum, this was the strongest medicine.

But after drinking this powerful liquid, he can no longer look back. His blood line is already at the 50% limit. If he evolves one step forward, he would lose control and become a Devil.

Chisei Gen turned off the cooling system and waited quietly for this tube of blood to regain its vitality. During those few minutes, he thought of Akira Sakurai and the devils he’d killed. It was such an irony. The strongest Devil-killer and the strongest Devil would be the same person in the end.

He also remembered Akira Sakurai’s dying words. “If the light of your Amaterasu can’t illuminate my night, then I will be transformed into a Devil, so I can reach the Underworld and cut off the fate of the Devils!”

Chisei had poured the dragon blood into a bottle of strong wine and drank it all in one go.

---- Dragon Raja 3 - Black Moon Tide (Part 3), Chapter 19 The Sword of Damocles, by Jiang Nan

Art by Joenbrown