#Hermit's Lair

[human-antithesis]

Amenra - MASS V (November 26th, 2012) Country: Belgium Genre: Sludge Metal, Screamo Reuploaded: FLAC

Lineup: Colin H. Van Eeckhout - Vocals Lennart Bossu - Guitars Mathieu J. Vandekerckhove - Guitars Levy Seynaeve - Bass Bjorn J. Lebon - Drums

Guest/Session: Scott Kelly - Vocals (Track 4)

Miscellaneous Staff: Billy Anderson - Producer, Mixing James Plotkin - Mastering Stefaan Temmerman - Photography

Tracklist:

Dearborn and Buried - 09:11

Boden - 09:12

A Mon Âme - 10:28

Nowena | 9.10 - 12:16

#Hermit's Lair #Human Antithesis #Telegram #Amenra #Sludge Metal #Doom Metal #Screamo #Colin H. Van Eeckhout #Lennart Bossu #Mathieu J. Vandekerckhove #Levy Seynaeve #Bjorn Lebon #Stefaan Temmerman #Belgium #Scott Kelly #Billy Anderson #James Plotkin #USA #US #United States

[the---hermit]

Some days I get the urge to lie down and pull a blanket over my head, and sometimes that's all I need to fix things momentarily.

#i don't know how to explain this but being curled up under a blanket and pulling it over my head gives me a comfort i cannot describe #the world is out and it doesn't matter because i am safe under my blanket #idk i feel like a dormouse sleeping in its lair #cris speaks #the---hermit

[moons-rising]

TALCHORUK

— the bloodstone witch

#+1 gembond dragon to lair! #it's subtle i like it #bloodstone witch is just a pretentious title for now lol #idk what her actual role is gonna be #for now she is one of a number of hermits #that live within my clan's territory #but not within the actual town #plenty of wilderness around to roam and wander

[pequene-ninho]

I mostly enjoy the apparel of notn but aesthetically its iust watered down trickmurk and its just not 4 me :/

#im a hermit in my corner of the corner of the woods #a hater #pagen lair posts

[heritageposts]

i saw the trailer for the new feel-good “anti-racist” US war movie about the carpet bombing of North Korea and started writing up something for this blog, partially inspired by the absolute shit storm i got for sharing that post i made with pictures of everyday life outside pyongyang

and then i gave up, because what’s the point? westerners can’t even handle a single picture of a north korean not looking miserable without screaming propaganda

meanwhile, there are no stories about the horrors of life in the ‘hermit kingdom’ that are deemed too outlandish to be believable. i can’t remember who said it, but it’s like the entire country has taken up permanent residence in the western imaginary as some silly little cartoon villain, where the leaders of the country does evil things for no discernible reason. they’re just silly and evil like that, and the citizens, of course, are silly, too. silly and brainwashed.

i watched a video recently of a tourists visiting an auto dealership in pyongyang, and the entire time he was just gawking at the employees and costumers, shoving his phone in their face, and confidently explaining to his youtube audience that everyone he’s interacting with are actually actors.

what level of dehumanization do you have to reach for that thought to even cross your mind? to think that the people you see before you are actors? that entire cities and shops are erected with to sole purpose that you, a western, will see them and be impressed?

what frustrates me the most is the casual cruelty that seeps into any mention of north korea, no matter how small. if north koreans are not being evil, they’re being silly.

a north korean newspaper reports that a group of archeologists in pyongyang have discovered an old rock carving with the words ‘unicorn lair’ (mistranslated), and the western press reports that north koreans now believe in unicorns.

a tourist at a hotel in hamhung is told by the receptionist to be careful at the beach: the waves can get high. that day the tourists goes to the beach, and there are no waves. she retells the story to her instagram followers, explaining that the poor woman at the hotel could never have seen real waves before because north koreans are probably never allowed to travel.

she adds a little teary-eyed emoji.

one of the cities i included in the post was sariwon, a densely populated city to the south of pyongyang. below are some pictures from its “folk customs street”, which was built to showcase old korean traditions and customs

here’s all wikipedia has to say about it

Built to display an ideal picture of ancient Korea, it includes buildings in the "historical style" and a collection of ancient Korean cannons. Although it is considered an inaccurate romanticized recreation of an ancient Korean street, it is frequently used as a destination for foreigners on official government tours. Many older style Korean buildings exist in the city.

it’s just north koreans being silly again. there’s no mention of what might motivate them to build a street like that — why the preservation of old customs, culture and architecture might somehow be important for the city

could it perhaps have something to do with how the U.S. air force dropped 635,000 tons of bombs, including 32,557 tons of napalm, over the korean peninsula during the war? the carpet bombings, which are now the topic of an upcoming hollywood movie about overcoming racism through warcrimes, destroyed an estimate of 85% of all buildings in north korea. some cities were entirely wiped off the map.

in sariwon they missed a few buildings, but not many — after an intense firebombing campaign the U.S. military estimated the destruction of sariwon to be at 95%.

none of this is mentioned on the wikipedia page for sariwon.

we destroyed entire cities. memory-holed the entire thing, called it the forgotten war. and now, 70 years later, we’re convincing ourselves that the people living in the ruins are actors.

and somehow the north koreans are the brainwashed ones

#forgive me lord for i am posting #to all the 'hate the government not the people' freaks in the notes #i'm coming for you next

[willtheweaver]

Some locations and structures to include in your forest

Abandoned shrine

Alchemist’s lab

Ancient ruins

Army encampment

Battlefield memorial

Boathouse

Bridge, log

Bridge, stone arch

Bridge, suspension

Bridge, wooden beam

Causeway

Cablin

Cable car station

Cairns- grave markers

Cairns- trail marker

Cave system

Caved-in tunnel

Cemetery

Clearing

Campsite

Castle (robber baron or otherwise)

Collapsed building

Dam

Dirt track

Ditch, defensive

Ditch, henge monument

Dock

Dragon’s lair

Elven settlement

Fairy ring

Farm

Ferry landing

Ford

Fort, earthen

Fort, stone

Fort, wooden

Game trail

Ghost town

Guardhouse

Haunted ruins

Hermit’s hut

Hollow hill

Hunting lodge

Hunter’s hide

Inn

Logging camp

Manor house

Mine

Monastery

Outlaw’s hideout

Overgrown ruins

Potholes

Paved road

Portal

Quarry

Railroad

Rail station

Raised platform

Roadside grave

Sacred grove

Sawmill

Sky burial platform

Signpost

Stone circle

Summoning ring

Switchback

Temple

Tollbooth

Treehouse

Troll cave

Tunnel entrance

Turnpike

Village

Waterwheel

Watchtower, stone

Watchtower, wooden

Witches’ cottage

Wizard’s tower

Zip line

#writing #creative writing #writing inspiration #writing ideas #writing prompts #worldbuilding #writer #writers #writing community #writer on tumblr #writeblr

[im-totally-not-an-alien-2]

Halloween prompts year 2 day 28

Thomas stared down at Bruce-no- Danny as he led him by the hand toward what he had dubbed as his "Secret Lair" which was just an old fall out shelter in the woods that had been well hidden and forgotten about. The door to it was old and still buried under years of dirt and plant growth, requiring Danny to phase them into it which made Thomas wonder how his grandson had found it in the first place.

Inside was surprisingly high tech. "You have a secret lair filled with all this equipment but don't have any weapons or armor?" Thomas asked, making mental preparations to fix that.

Danny sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck and explained his only allies were two other 14 year olds who were also untrained, unarmed, unarmored, and unsuper-powered which would explain why Danny was so excited to be working with an adult vigilante who at least knew what they were doing.

The kid didn't even mind when some of his more evil or harmful rogues "stopped showing up" thankfully no one would really question the reclusive Vlad Masters "going back to Wisconsin" only to never be seen again. No one saw much of him before coming to Amity Park, it made since he would become a hermit again once he had his fill of human interaction.

And if hes later found dead in his cheese castle? Well, the body had decomposed too much to really say what killed him. His will left everything to a Daniel James Fenton/Daniel James Masters which visibly infuriated Danny. Thomas mentally patted himself on the back. It was a good call to get rid of that one. The will was a surprise, though one that can only benefit Thomas in his crusade of protecting his grandson. Its not like he can return to a timeline that no longer exists anyway.

Unfortunately this doesn't stop the bats from hearing about "Batman" operating in a city in Illinois for the past few months...

#halloween prompts #dpxdc #thomas wayne #batman #thomas wayne as batman #phantom is being the Robin to Thomas Waynes Batman and its a blend of happy fluff and broody angst #danny phantom #danny fenton #fanfiction prompts #prompts #danny knows about the killings but is willing to turn a blind eye so long as it doesnt go too far or become unreasonable #skulker and vlad both kinda deserve it tbh #skulker is a self proclaimed serial killer who sometimes skins his victims alive...kinda and you cant tell me Vlad who has canonically #kidnapped tortured expirimented on ect on danny hasnt done this before when he seems so comfortable and familiar with doing it #thomas will not speak about of the things he saw at vlads mansions and secret hideouts #lets just say there was a lot of book burnings #imagine when the batfam learn about this #damian: You have our grandfather >:( #danny: you have out dad* catmom* knifemom* all our siblings* AND alfred. i get to keep gramps! #danny: *hugs grampa batman protectively*

[tmnt-crossover-polls]

THE ULTIMATE CROSSOVER

Two shades of blue summary : Leon tries to portal back to the lair mid-panic, but ends up in the 2012 verse. He's gotta work through his issues to get home.

Ghost in the Shell summary : Ghost in the Shell is about what happened to the missing Donatello from 2003's "Same As It Never Was" episode, and how he fell into the Rise universe to become a feral hermit and raise some rowdy teenagers while looking for a way home.

For future reference summary : Remember Rise!Donnie’s conspiracy board? Ever wonder how he got those photos of other universes? Ever wonder what would happen if those other universes *found out* about it? How would the other turtles respond to being spied on? Apparently, the answer to that last question is “kidnap his 3D counterpart back to his dimension so they can figure out what’s going on together and accidentally cause a domino affect that causes the whole multiverse to fall apart”. Never let it be said that the Donatello of the 1987 dimension doesn’t like to go to the extreme to solve a problem

Ghost on the server summary : The Last Ronin Becomes a Discord Admin and Ghost in the Shell meet when only Ghost is added to the discord server! Taking place after GitS’ short story “Home”, Ghost tries to avoid creating a fuss but can’t help but ask questions.

@sad-leon @amevello-blue @bluepeachstudios

@ilovebeingaturtle @melonpalooza @amevello-blue @bluepeachstudios

#the polls #two shades of ghost propaganda #two shades of blue propaganda #ghost in the shell propaganda #hey ghost it's a server reference propaganda #for future reference propaganda #ghost on the server propaganda #ghost vs ghost #tmnt crossover polls #cheerleading battle

[wingedcat13]

Synovus: Villains Never Retire (3)

[Another day, another installment, another piece of evidence I can't resist a good monologue. Warnings for this week include more graphic descriptions of drowning, 80s TV references, and Synovus putting their foot in it. Repeatedly. See you in part four!]

[New here? See the start of the series or a part you missed here. As per usual, this chapter is also up on Ao3.]

‘Moping’ is, in your opinion, a highly underrated art form.

There are those who prefer the drama of the romantics; sighing and draping themselves over surfaces in elegant dismay. There are the hermits: creating a den and retiring to it until someone is brave enough to drag them, kicking and screaming, from a pile of blankets and misery. There are the students of the tantrum, who follow the subject of their distress in a very not-purposeful-certainly-not way to be pointedly fine or vaguely annoyed in their periphery.

You ascribe to none of these three schools. No, when you are upset, you become a spider.

Not literally - shapeshifting has never been one of your gifts - but in nearly every other way. You scuttle away from interaction with others, create stashes of supplies in hidden spaces, and watch the world from a dark corner or rafter.

You’re usually willing to admit it’s a bit of a juvenile response, to go brood and watch your minions at work. It’s never stopped you, though.

Your minions are used to such behaviors - enough that even if one of them does manage to spot you perched twenty feet up on a steel beam, they don’t acknowledge it. If you don’t move for more than four hours, sometimes they’ll send someone to make sure you haven’t died.

(Usually, it’s Oflok. She throws snacks at you to make sure you’ve eaten something. If they get really worried, they send Doll to try and coax you down.)

(Doll is still on vacation, so you figure you can get away with this for two more days at least.)

At least you aren't vying for space - neither Alexandria nor Minerva seem to share your proclivities. You haven’t seen either often: it’s easier to move from one room to the next via the maintenance hatches than to risk an awkward confrontation when you do spot them.

(No, you aren’t hiding from your guests in your own home. That would be ridiculous. You have nothing to be ashamed of.)

Still, there are signs that neither has quite forgiven you for what they’d learned at the meeting, now three days ago.

You'd passed through the training room yesterday to find it absolutely trashed - the dummies shredded by a sharp point, and a spear lodged in one reinforced wall. Minerva, then.

Your birthday gift to Alexandria, a custom Lego model of the ancient library she’d named herself after, is still sitting partially constructed in your lair’s library - meaning she hadn’t worked on it in several days. You’d helped her with the early stages before getting sidetracked by explaining some of the various theories you’d heard over the years about potential relics recovered from it or supposed secrets it was burned to conceal.

Personally, you were considering taking up knitting again. Or perhaps embroidery? It would depend on how much you felt like stabbing something.

---

It was while you were trying to recall how to properly set a purl stitch, that you finally overheard something you shouldn’t’ve.

You’d settled into the cross of two support beams in the mess hall to work on it. Between your costume and the fact that you were up above the hanging lights, it wasn’t even necessary to use your shadows to hide. Even the yarn you were using - a very deep purple- wasn’t likely to give you away, unless you dropped the skein.

Below you, a few of your minions were gathered at one of the tables, talking again about the turmoil on the mainland while they played cards. None of them seemed worried, exactly, just… slightly unnerved. You weren’t really focused on following the conversation.

You did hear, however, when Rosie stood up from the table and called, “Doll!”

You paused in the process of carefully undoing your last failed stitch, and leaned forwards to get a better view. Yes, that was Doll, half-jogging up the steps. He wasn’t due back for a few more days. You had a sinking suspicion you knew why he was back early.

“Rosie!” He returned, spreading his arms wide for a hug. There were a few moments of overlapping greetings and welcomings, his nickname interspersed with his real first name, Andrei. Chairs were shuffled, cards were reshuffled, and then he was dealt into the game.

“So.” He asked, as the group finally settled, “What’s got all of you so worried, hm?”

There was a mass exchanging of glances. Some of them were directed upwards, but none of them spotted you. You couldn’t see Doll’s face now that he'd sat down, but you could hear the slight grimace when he said, “If you cannot speak of it, you should have called me back earlier.”

“It’s not that,” Heather murmured, shaking her head, “it’s… well, we’re not entirely sure either.”

Theo was stretched out on a bench, rather than playing. “Syn got called to another meeting.”

“They are retired.” Doll said, as though that were an answer.

Heather shrugged, “I don’t think they were expecting it either. Anyway - Menace went with them.”

“She’s okay.” Rosie clarified, before Doll could stand. You could see her lay a hand on his arm from here. “No one was hurt. But Athena went with them, too.”

“In the new costume Syn made.” Oflok was definitely grinning. You contemplated throwing a knitting needle at her.

“That sounds like a good thing, rather than a…” Doll trailed off, making a vague circling gesture with one hand.

Rosie sighed, “Well, it would’ve been. But none of them have talked to each other since they’ve been back.”

Heather shook her head, “I’m used to having Syn destroy a training room every so often - but if Athena keeps this up, I’m going to run out of training dummy materials.”

“And Alexandria’s been spending most of her time in the sky, too.” Rosie noted. “And that’s after she’s weeded the garden for me and dug a new irrigation channel.”

“And Syn?” Doll asked.

“Skulking.” One of them mutters.

Doll laid his cards down. “Angry-skulk or emotional-skulk.”

You aren’t sure which they would’ve answered (and were slightly mortified they talked about this enough to have a commonly understood difference), as, about that time, Alexandria drifted up over the railing of the stairway.

“Doll!” She cried, smiling broadly.

“Menace!” He returned, just as cheerfully as he had when greeting Rosie. He stood to go offer her a hug - and didn’t notice or care that Oflok swiped his cards as soon as he turned away.

“I didn’t think you would be back for a while.” Alexandria said, once she’d gingerly extricated herself from the hug.

Doll shrugged, “What can I say, hm? I missed the sun.”

Alexandria chuckled, but her heart wasn’t quite in it. She moved forward, towards the table, and out of your line of sight. “Doll, can I… talk to you?”

There must have been some exchanging of glances or other signal, because your minions abruptly dispersed.

Oflok stood first, dropping a hand onto Heather’s shoulder and declaring, “I need someone to cut things. You’re helping.”

Theo, eager to dodge the same fate, had swung upright, “Oh, hey, that update should be about finished.”

“Fair Lady, those carrots should be about ripe. Want me to see if I can find ten of them that are ready?” Rosie offered.

“Better be at least twelve or don’t bother.”

The three of them moved off towards the kitchen, bickering about how long a carrot needed to be to be useful for whatever Oflok was planning. Theo ambled out a side door, and caught two more who might’ve otherwise wandered in.

When the door had closed, and it was just Doll and Alexandria (and you hidden in the rafters), you heard Alexandria say quietly, “I didn’t mean to drive them away.”

“You didn’t.” Doll assured her, “I did. I just got back from traveling, and I don’t want to have to move from this chair.”

Alexandria made no response to that, but she did sit.

There was a beat of silence, while Doll gathered the cards everyone else had left behind, and reshuffled them again out of habit.

"Why did you kidnap me?" Alexandria asked.

Doll sounded relatively unruffled as he replied, "Because Syn asked me to."

"Asked?"

"Told, if you want to be specific, but I could have refused without much trouble. They don't force us to do things, to work for them."

"Why did Synovus want me kidnapped?" The corner of a light blocked her face, but you could see one hand curled into a fist, resting on the tabletop.

"Because we needed to keep your parents busy for a few hours." Doll continued shuffling the cards, occasionally fanning them or bridging them in tricks that you knew were a sign of anxiety. One of few tics and tells he had.

"Why did you need to keep Athena and Legionnaire busy?"

Doll hesitated, and Alexandria added, more heatedly, "And don't tell me you can't talk about it, I know about the deal with Gray Gangster."

"If you did, you would know why." Doll returned, sounding annoyed. His tone gentled as he continued, "You should really ask Synovus, if you want the full story."

"No thanks. I want the truth, not to be lied to." There was a bitterness there. You managed not to flinch.

Doll set the cards down, and folded his arms. "Alexandria. What is this really about?"

"What do you mean 'what is this about'? This is about why I was dragged out of my bed to an island in the middle of nowhere, essentially as bait!"

"You have had over a year to be upset about this." Doll remarked. "And while I do not mean that you cannot be upset about it - I would be, I think - I mean that I think there is a reason you bring this up now, when you haven't before. A reason it is eating at you."

There was another moment of silence, which you silently interpreted as a staring contest. Alexandria must've lost, because when she spoke again, it was quieter.

"Is all of this... did Synovus do this just to.. to get at my parents?"

Your grip tightened on the knitting needles until you could've snapped them in half. Of course that's what she would've assumed, but your own stupid promises -

"Fuck no." Doll said, and he sounded like he was trying to downplay how offended he actually was. "We kidnapped you to preserve the Right of Rivalry, sure, but after? That was never part of any plan."

"That you know of." Alexandria countered. "They could've -"

"Let me make one thing clear for you, Alexandria." Doll said firmly, "You are right. It is entirely possible that Synovus had plans none of us knew about. Half the time I don't even understand the plans they do explain. But if you ask me a question and then counter it with hypotheticals, I don't think you cared about how I answered at all."

Another silence.

Doll sighed, "Synovus is not a kind person." He said. "But they are not a monster. The difference is that their mercies are invisible - because they are almost always a matter of restraint."

That, at least, prods a bit of curiosity out of Alexandria, "What do you mean?"

Doll picked up the cards again, shuffled them one last time, and began to deal. "You went to a meeting. Who all was there?"

"Tallflawes, Gray Gangster, Dr. Wraith, Unwritten, Chanter, Galactic Prodigy, and two people with wings I didn't recognize."

"Ibis and Vulture." Doll supplied, "That's most of the usual set. You are an observant girl. Why would so many powerful villains gather in one place?"

"Mostly, it seemed like they wanted to argue about territory rights."

"And why would they do so, peacefully?"

Alexandria shrugged, "Because it's in their best interest to, I guess? That way they don't waste time fighting each other, and can better hold off any heroes who come for them?"

Doll hummed, "You are forgetting something. Every supervillain, and that is what all of those people are, has an ego larger than the moon."

Alexandria snorted.

"They don't make concessions well. At least, not publicly. Not to each other. And most of them are worried about getting stabbed in the back on a moment's notice."

"They seemed pretty well organized, from what I saw. Tallflawes must be pretty intimidating when she wants to be."

"Tallflawes?" Doll paused, in the way he normally did when raising an eyebrow and expecting you to reconsider your statement. "No. Tallflawes did not create that structure. Synovus did."

"Synovus?"

"I know - they seem so anti-authoritarian most days. And you'll notice there is no official leader to that group, only whoever winds up hosting. For a long time, that was here."

Alexandria seemed to turn that information over. "They said something... I asked about the rules, and what happened if someone broke them."

"Synovus happened." Doll agreed. "I've seen it, once or twice. It's not a pretty thing. But they were warned, and a threat isn't a threat if you never follow through."

"When we got there, Tallflawes said something about, about saying words and living them. Rosie said something like that, when I was here before?"

"'If you cannot hold yourself to your oaths, I will.'" Doll recited. He shivered, "I have never worried about Synovus turning on one of us. But I admit... I do sometimes still have dreams about that day. Dreams I'd rather forget."

"So then... all of the Rights, the meetings, all of it... was because they were scared of Synovus?"

"Not all of it - most of it just made sense, like you said about the not wasting effort. And not everything is ritualized either. Villains aren't big on rules, as a whole, you know?"

Alexandria confessed, "I was kinda surprised they had so many."

Doll shook his head, "There are only three. The Right of Parley, which is the agreement for a ceasefire at meetings. The Right of Privacy, which means that if you try to steal someone else's secrets, they can retaliate without consequence. And the Right of Rivalry."

"Which is... Supervillain dibs?"

"More or less. It keeps them from stepping on each others' toes. Imagine if more than one group had showed up at your house that night - chaos!"

Alexandria had a card in hand now, and was slowly turning it over, cycling it against the tabletop. "Doll." She said slowly, "Is that... almost what happened?"

Doll sighed, "If it had been Gray Gangster's men at your house that night, Menace, it would not have been to kidnap you."

"You mean they would've...?"

You had had enough of hiding in the rafters. "He had plans for a bomb."

Both Doll and Alexandria flinched and looked up. You took the time to stash your knitting where it wouldn't fall, then dropped down.

"He had plans for a bomb." You repeated, "And wanted to know if I thought it would work on Athena and Legionnaire. Because he had a prison break planned, and they couldn't be allowed to intervene."

Neither of them could see your expression behind the helmet, but you didn't bother trying to hide the weariness in your voice. "He had plans for a bomb, and he was only bothering to tell me, because they were my rivals."

Alexandria looked somewhat upset to see you - though that might've been because of your 'entrance' - but she wanted the answers more. Enough she didn't turn and leave, at least. "But he didn't use it."

"No." You agreed. "Because I told him that I had plans of my own for that day, and if he interfered with them, I would tear him apart. And when he left, I scrambled to find something that would make it true."

There was another moment of silence. Just as it would've stretched into uncomfortably long, Alexandria spoke again, "So, what you said about Rosie, before..."

"That part is true." You confirmed, "It was just happenstance that the doctor was in the same prison. But I had sworn not to talk about Rosie's cancer with anyone, and until she released me of that oath, I couldn't even tell you that."

“And now?” Alexandria challenged, raising her chin.

“In my more foolish youth, I swore never to disclose what happened at our meetings to anyone who had not attended one. And don’t start about my not saying something earlier, you’re the one who flew off without a word, to me or your mother.”

Alexandria made a frustrated noise, and a few hand gestures like she’d like to strangle you. That wasn’t an uncommon sentiment when people dealt with you. Call it a gift.

After another heavy sigh, she made a motion as though physically pushing something to one side. “Okay. Whatever. I’m still mad.”

“That’s fair.”

Alexandria regarded you suspiciously. “You never break your oaths?”

“Not if I can help it.”

“How many times has that happened?”

That was an unpleasant memory. “Once.”

“Will you swear an oath to me?”

In a way, this had been inevitable. “That depends on what you ask of me, Alexandria.”

She watched you for a moment. You almost wondered if she could see, somehow, past the helmet, to the mixture of despair and resignation on your face.

Carefully, as though each word was specifically selected, Alexandria asked, “Will you swear to always tell me the truth about your rivalry with my parents, and how it relates to me?”

On reflex, you ran through all of the potential outcomes of this situation, all of the things you might be forced to disclose, every oath you’d made that might conflict with it.

And, very softly, hating that you could not even offer her this, you said, “No.”

You tried not to see the hurt on her face as you turned away.

—-

A few hours later, it’s Rosie who finds you this time.

It’s a mark of your bad mood that you don’t come down to talk to her once she’s made it clear she’s looking for you. Resolute, she just finds a ladder, and joins you on one of the wide beams over the workshop.

You’d left your knitting in the mess hall, and hadn’t gone back to retrieve it - so you’d spent most of your time mentally rearranging work desks and plotting projects that you knew you’d never be able to pursue, now that you were retired.

Still, you don’t leave. And part of you keeps track of Rosie’s progress so she doesn’t fall.

“Stuck with the short straw?” You drawl as she finally settles.

“Synovus.” Rosie frowns, “What the fuck.”

“What?”

“What. The. Fuck.” Rosie repeats. “Are you doing.”

“Waxing philosophical about my own impotence.”

“I don’t give a crap about that.” Rosie says dismissively. “What are you doing about Alexandria and Minerva?”

“I -“

“Because whatever it is it isn’t working.”

“That’s-“

“I like them.” Rosie says defiantly. “Both of them. I’m upset that they’re hurt.”

“Well, that’s-“

“Fix it.”

And with that declaration, Rosie swings her leg back over the side, and makes her way down the ladder.

Groaning, you knock the back of your helmet against the wall.

—-

You find Minerva down by the water.

In an attempt to signal peaceful intentions, you made yourself dress in something other than your costume. You left your face uncovered, and ensured you were wearing something that could stand being dragged through the sand in case this conversation went poorly.

Minerva, it turned out, was in the Naiad suit - which you wanted to take as a good sign. It could also have just been that she still had few clothes of her own here, though.

(You’d offered to send someone to purchase clothing for her, or retrieve clothing from her house. She hadn’t wanted to tell you where she lived, now, and you didn’t want Alexandria to go alone into that chaos. Between the extensive closet you rarely used and your minions’ donations, she’d amassed a small pile of loans.)

You caught her coming in after a swim. She caught sight of you when she was still knee deep in the gentle surf of the inner bay, and froze, staring at where you stood on the beach.

You hold out one of the two drinks in your hands and called over the waves, “Smoothie?”

Minerva doesn’t respond. After a minute or two, in which neither of you move, you sigh.

You take a sip from one of the smoothies, bending the straw to claim it as yours. Then you place both of them on a disc of summoned shadow, solidified enough to hold them, and levitated off to one side.

“Alright.” You call to Minerva, “Go ahead, drown me or whatever.”

“Would anyone weep, if I did?” Came the icy reply, and you grin.

“I hope not.” You respond lightly, “My funeral is to be a strictly no-crying zone. Only celebrations, and dancing upon the coffin.”

“Is that how you live with yourself? Everything a joke?”

Your grin fades. “Only myself, dear Minerva.”

The waves stir, a new current introduced. You try not to react to it. Minerva’s warning is venomous, “I’m not your ‘dear’ anything.”

Slowly, you turn your hands so that the palms are facing up, showing that you are not gathering your shadows. “My mistake.”

“The only reason I have not killed you,” Minerva tells you steadily, “Is because you’ve been, somehow, good for Alexandria.”

The waves are rising now - little tiny whitecaps as they froth over, still no higher than her hips when they crest.

“You sound as though you are reconsidering.”

“Even too much medicine becomes poison.”

It is a struggle, not to bare your teeth at that and taunt her. You close your eyes, rather than risk letting her see them swirl black.

After a few heartbeats, Minerva demands, “Well?”

You open your eyes again, powers held tightly in check. “I’m not sure what you want me to say.”

“I don’t want you to ‘say’ anything.” She growls. “I want you to give up on this charade of civility. Of charity.”

You stiffen, “Have you a complaint about my conduct, Lady Athena?”

She hisses. Oh, you should not have used that name. But it is too late now.

The waters of the bay shiver, and part. Suddenly, there is a clear path of damp sand between you and Minerva, as the water rises at her urging, summoned into shapes.

You take a step back.

“Go on, Lord Synovus.” Minerva takes a step forwards, and you can see a glint in her eyes, even if you can’t decipher it.

Wary, you take another step back. “Minerva. I know my word doesn’t mean much for you-“

That’s as far as you get before the first torrent of water slams into you.

It’s strong enough to take you off your feet, but instead of simply flattening you to the sand, it drags you further into the water. You had the briefest moment to take a breath before being dragged under - only to have it knocked out of you.

The force of the current pulls you in a kind of desperate cartwheel, while you scrabble for purchase in the cursed-soft sand. Saltwater stings your eyes and your nose, and a small voice in the back of your mind remarks, quite calmly, that you probably deserve this.

You can’t really address that though, because the vast majority of your instincts are screaming at you to save yourself; either in a mix of frantic animal instinct to orient and kick and breathe or the trained instinct of a super, to orient and kick and hurt before you can be hurt further.

Luckily, Minerva doesn’t seem to be genuinely out to kill you. At least, not immediately: you surface before you’re forced to suck in water, sputtering and coughing, in water up to your waist.

Resigned, you drag one hand through your hair and use the other to wipe excess water from your face. You glance around, trying to find and track where Minerva is, where the next attack may come from-

The answer was your ankles, naturally.

A current as strong as any riptide twines around your ankles and shins, yanking fiercely and suddenly, and causing you to go face-first back into the water. You struggle, because you cannot help what you are, but you keep a death grip on your powers. If you reacted now, by instinct, you are not sure how much damage you would do.

Again, you are spun until you lose all sense of direction, and again, you surface with barely time to breathe. Now you are treading water, and the babbling fear in your heart insists that if you don’t do anything, Minerva will sweep you out to sea and leave you to drown.

The part of you that has always survived, the part that became the Scourge of the Western Seaboard, classifies things much more coolly. There are several things you could say or do to make this stop. Several ways to return the sense of fear or pain.

You choose none of them, and instead take another sharp breath before you are once again pulled under.

But you are beginning to fear that you will have no other option, if you want to come out of this alive.

The next time you are allowed to breathe, you realize Minerva is shouting at you. Probably has been, but you’ve been a bit busy drowning to notice.

“-you took my family from me!”

You open your mouth to try and respond - just as you slip beneath the surface again.

This time, there’s no helping it. You choke on saltwater and brine, and the automatic response of your body to try and force it out only makes you inhale more. You should be focused on trying to reach the surface, but the animal panic has only risen, and it’s taking everything you can muster to try and keep the energy inside of you from exploding - as shadows, as light, as something raw.

So instead, you sink. And another current grabs you. And you have just enough time to think that it’s a shame Minerva will only kill you now, when you are no longer rivals.

And then you are slammed into the shore, and the water leaves you alone.

You spend several moments coughing up or vomiting seawater. You are drenched, and everywhere you are drenched, the sand sticks to your skin, clothes, and hair, in a gritty paste that stings worse than the saltwater. And yet, you are alive. For now.

When your lungs feel as though they’ve been scraped raw, and you’ve had time to catalogue the deep ache that is already spreading through your body, you look up to see Minerva, still standing in the water. She looks imperious. Cold.

And maybe you’ve suppressed your survival instincts too much today, because when you force words out of your mouth, what you say is, “Are you done?”

Minerva’s expression takes on a sharper edge, and she might have killed you for real (and you wouldn’t have fucking blamed her at that point) except for the blur of movement that slams into the sand between you.

You throw up an arm to shield your eyes from the spray of sand. When you risk lowering it, you recognize the admittedly-blurry outline as Alexandria.

“Oh hi menace.” You mutter in a small voice that might not actually have made it to full words.

“What the fuck!” Alexandria yells, looking back and forth between you.

“Language.” Minerva says automatically, proving you aren’t the only one with a faulty autopilot.

“What the fuck.” Alexandria repeats, just as emphatically.

“We’re okay.” You wheeze, and this time you’re fairly confident those are audible sounds.

Judging by the incredulous look Alexandria gives you, you must not look okay.

Minerva must have come to the same conclusion, because she comments, “You look like a drowned rat.”

“And whose fault is that?” Alexandria demands, rounding on her mother.

“And here I got all dressed up just for you.” You half croak, half croon.

There’s a very brief pause of dead silence between the three of you, before Alexandria turns back to you again.

“Did you make a pass at my mom?”

“What-“ the force of your own outrage is enough to send you into another coughing fit.

“Because if she’s beating the stuffing out of you for hitting on her, I’m just going to fly away again.”

Minerva has one hand over her eyes, “No, that’s not- that’s not what's happening here.”

“Well then, what the fuck.” Alexandria repeats, but this time it’s more plaintive than anything else.

Intentionally or not, it breaks the worst of the tension.

She glances at where you’ve devolved into another round of dry heaving (not due to the implications, simply due to the near drowning) and sighs.

Kneeling next to you, she pulls a bottle of water out of the small pack you hadn’t noticed she was wearing, and offers it to you. After a few carefully measured sips, you feel like you can talk again. Not that that means you should, but since when has that stopped you?

“Thank you, Alexandria.” You say politely, and don’t bother trying to stand. You do manage to scrape yourself into a sitting position, however.

There has to be a way to resolve this. Something you can offer, a bridge between where you both currently stand. Some kind of reassurance?

“I swear.” You say quietly, “That I do not mean either of you any harm.”

Minerva snorts, but Alexandria sits back on her heels. She’s frowning as she watches you, her head tilted, as though there’s something she can almost see behind your eyes.

You hold her gaze long enough to underline the sincerity of your statement, then look to Minerva instead. “You don’t believe me?”

“No. I don’t.” Minerva answers, folding her arms. The waters around her have begun to return to their normal state, but there are still signs of agitation. “Why would an oath matter to someone who’s killed hundreds? What I believe is that it’s a feint. Tell someone over and over again that you never break your word, when it’s properly given, and they’ll eventually put their guard down.”

You can’t really fault her for that belief, it’s certainly the kind of trickery you’re capable of. Known for.

“Why do you put so much emphasis on oaths?” Alexandria asks.

You lift one hand helplessly, “Because, at a certain point, it becomes all that you have.”

Alexandria pointedly looks around at your island.

“I don’t mean like that - yes, I have plenty of material wealth.” You correct. “I mean in the… not quite moral sense. I am..” You hesitate again, choosing your words carefully.

“I am a liar. A traitor. A villain. I have no goal, no ultimate aim, but I don’t seek sensational pleasure or wealth either. I ascribe to no religion. I commit atrocities. And I have a considerable amount of power at my disposal.”

You take a sip of the water again, while Minerva sighs, “If you’re just going to brag, Synovus, you can skip to the point.”

“The point-“ you say with a glare, “is that it would be very, very easy for me to fall into an aimless chaotic melancholy. But a promise, an oath, those are things that are so very easy to break.”

“Restraints.” Alexandria murmurs.

You try to find the words to explain, “There isn’t a - a sign of some kind, a pop-up message that tells you if you’re about to betray someone’s confidence or break a promise. You have to know. And so yes, I am very careful about what I promise myself to, because if oaths stop mattering to me…” You shrug, “What will?”

“They make you stop and think.” Alexandria reasons, and you nod at her, grateful that one of them understands.

“And, of course, this leaves us only with your word, to take on faith.” Minerva notes sourly.

“Trust me or don’t.” You snap, because these are explanations you have never given anyone else, and you are raw on the inside and out. “You live in my house. I’ve spent years saving your life. I nearly let you drown me in a temper tantrum. I’ve never lied about who or what I am-“

You go to gesture, out of habit, but only succeed in jarring the arm holding Alexandria’s water bottle. It knocks you out of your tirade, at least.

You look down to avoid looking at Minerva, and focus on breathing. You grimace are the grime you’ve smeared on the bottle. In measured tones, you say to Alexandria, “I would offer to return this, Alexandria, but… allow me to make a suggestion? I’ll keep this, and you can have my smoothie.”

You gesture in the vague direction of the disc of shadow, still floating patiently. “Or your mother’s, if she’s still refusing my peace offerings.”

For a moment, you think Alexandria is going to refuse. She’s pursed her lips, and still seems unsatisfied with the whole endeavor.

“You sound like you’ve been gargling seashells.” Alexandria remarks, even as she stands to go retrieve the drinks.

Minerva is staring at where they’re levitating, perhaps remembering your offer, but - no, not the drinks, the disc. She’s staring at the slim oval of solidified shadow. The proof of your abilities, that you hadn’t lost hold of, even while drowning.

You… honestly are a bit surprised it's still there yourself. It hadn’t been a conscious decision, but apparently in forcing yourself not to change how your powers were being used, you’d inadvertently preserved the disc too.

“I lose control of all sorts of things.” You tell her, hoarsely. “But never my powers. Never.”

You intend for it to be reassuring - that you will never use your abilities against her or Alexandria in anger, that you are willing to allow yourself to be drowned if it means a chance at reconciliation.

Instead, Minerva’s face closes off even more. You realize, much too late, that it could be taken as an accusation instead. Mockery, as she had seemed so afraid of before she told you about her name, her uncertainty.

There was the hero, who had nearly drowned someone who refused to fight back.

Here lay the villain, painted as the martyr.

You lunge to your feet, reaching out as though you could catch her by the wrist, find some way to explain - but she is gone, into the water where you cannot follow, before the second syllable of her name has even cleared your lips.

There’s a frustrated noise from beside you, and you turn long enough to see Alexandria’s glare.

“Even dad never made her that mad.” She accuses.

The depths of that blow must’ve shown on your face, because Alexandria takes a step back, and looks momentarily uncertain.

“Thanks for the smoothie.” She says, and walks down the beach before taking to the sky again.

Eventually, you trudge back up the hill to your lair alone.

—-

You pass Rosie in the hall. She stops to stare at you, in all your sand-encrusted glory.

“I’m working on it.” You growl at her.

She doesn’t say anything.

—-

The next morning, you are woken by the whumpf of a teenager with super strength flopping into your bed. This, due to the laws of ‘Synovus being startled’ if not the laws of physics, results in you briefly experiencing flight about a foot and a half off the mattress.

“Good morning.” Alexandria says cheerily.

“Augh.” You reply, through your pillow.

Merciless, she finds the remote necessary to start clicking through what you have available on streaming services. She’s been really into a murder mystery show from the 80s recently - sure enough, you recognize the distinctive pattern of its opener a few seconds later.

“I’ve forgiven you.” Alexandria informs you.

“Mmpf?”

“I still don’t like it, and I’m not saying you’ve got full license to do it again or anything, but like. I don’t know. You’re a supervillain, of course you have secrets. I just don’t like when they involve me and I don’t know about them, you know?”

“Mmm.” You concede.

“Anyway, I realized that I could also keep secrets now.”

You roll over enough to crack one eyelid at her. She grins. You shrug. It’s her life.

Her attention is rapidly absorbed by the plot of the episode, and you go back to dozing.

And for a little while, everything feels alright.

—-

When you wake up for real, Alexandria’s on a different episode, and has an empty glass on the table beside her that still bears marks of a smoothie.

“Decided you were a fan?” You ask, gesturing to it as you start the process to drag yourself out of bed.

“The fruit here is much fresher than I’m used to. And Oflok might be magic.”

“Oflok is definitely magic.” You agree, and go to scrape yourself into the shape of something presentable.

Once you’ve curried life into your limbs and brushed away the last vestiges of sleep, you return to find that Alexandria’s swapped away from her show. Instead, she’s now clicking through news feeds.

“Was it the doorman?”

“Nope - he was framed. It turned out to be the neighbor.”

“Hell of a way to lodge a noise complaint.” You muse. You nod at the screens, “So, what’s the damage?”

“Bad.” Alexandria answers frankly. “The group we met before - the one you put in the hospital and the other two who left? They’ve staked a pretty big claim on Southern California, and actually seem to be able to enforce it. A few capes have disappeared closer to Seattle, six different people have claimed to know why, but there’s no evidence.”

She clicks through to a different channel, “Oh, and it’s a free for all in Death Valley.”

“We do love our sense of irony.” You admit. You scan the displays for people you recognize, signs of actual trouble versus someone looking for fifteen minutes of fame.

Something at the bottom of the screen catches your eye. “What’s that about? An anti-retirement petition?”

Alexandria grins, “Apparently a lot of them want you to come back.”

You are aghast. “Why?”

She shrugs, “A single tyrant is better than a super powered gang war? One person they interviewed said that at least you had class.”

“Clearly, I should’ve blown up a few more buildings before I retired.”

You watch the newsreel for a few more minutes - that petition has over 3,000 signatures, which is frankly ridiculous - before Alexandria asks, “Did you know this would happen? When you retired?”

You sigh, and readjust the pillows you’re now leaning against. “I expected something like this.” You admit. “There’s always a power vacuum. My retiring left a fairly large one.”

You squint, “I did think it would be more resolved by now, instead of escalating. Maybe I should’ve faked my death instead.”

“Would that have really made a difference?”

“If someone had claimed to kill me, they could’ve pushed to inherit all of my territory by right of conquest.” You point out. “The trouble with my not actually being dead would’ve made it more difficult for anyone to make an unarguable claim though. Maybe not.”

“Why did you retire?”

You frown, and look at her with disapproval. Alexandria only shrugs, “Hey, I can ask. Didn’t say I expected an answer.”

“I… know what it’s like to have super powered parents. Guardians. Life administrators.” You concede reluctantly. “I didn’t want that for you.”

“Awww.” Alexandria says, one hand over her heart. “You think you’re my parent.”

“Don’t make it weird.”

“You made it weird by existing.”

“Touché.”

There’s a brief pause, as a commercial comes on that distracts both of you. In addition to its general absurdity, you have no idea what it’s for until the end, when it pivots to the intended product with a complete non-sequitur. You mock it together.

“You know, you don’t talk about them much.” Alexandria notes.

“My choice in toothpaste brands?” You ask, raising a brow.

Alexandria rolls her eyes. “Your parents.”

“Correct.”

“Sore subject?”

You rise, and stretch. “Just not much to talk about. They’re both dead now. Have been for a while.”

“I’m sorry.”

You laugh, and it’s more of a bark, “You might be the only one to say that about one of them. But I appreciate the sentiment, little menace.”

Alexandria makes a face at you. “By the way.” She says casually, “I’m going to fly to the mainland later. Want anything?”

You are, perhaps, too glad to change the subject to be appropriately suspicious. In hindsight, that will have been purposeful, and you will appreciate the maneuver as much as you are frustrated that it works.

“Some sort of non-chocolate candy, so it doesn’t melt in your pocket.” You poke her shoulder, and head past her into the hall.

“I’m going to bring you back a single jolly rancher.” She yells to your back.

—-

Later that day, after Alexandria’s left, you get a text message from an unknown phone number.

Not Unwritten, who does admittedly go through phone numbers at an alarming rate, but a genuine, never-texted-or-called-before number.

UKN: Hey, Syn? It’s Menace.

UKN: I uh. I may have dropped my phone on the flight over.

You stifle a snort.

Syn: Noted.

Syn: I will presume any further messages from your number are instead from a particularly enterprising cephalopod.

UKN: Why do you assume an octopus?

Syn: Octopuses are dope.

UKN: Sometimes talking to you is like talking to a thesaurus.

UKN: Sometimes you hit me with ‘Octopuses are dope’

Syn: I contain multitudes.

Syn: Pre-paid cell, I presume?

UKN: yep.

Syn: Don’t lose this one until you get back to the island.

Syn: … also Doll says hello.

UKN: hi Doll!

You wave Doll away before you can become an intermediary for a text conversation. He gives you a baleful look, but goes back to his current task: teaching you to play ‘the dungeon room game.’

He tells you it’s actual name several times, but you like yours better.

—-

“Doll. Doll. Andrei. I’m telling you, it doesn’t make sense.”

Your minion has his head on the table, as though not watching you will in any way spare him from listening to you.

“This economy - its terrible, Doll. In what - in what world is a custom made signet ring cheaper than a mass printed book?”

“In this one.” Doll says weakly.

“Bullshit. Two gold for a signet ring - you said one copper is the equivalent of one American dollar for vague estimations, and multiples of ten to class up, so that’s $200 for a signet ring, fine. But then -“

You recheck the book, and your math, just in case, “twenty-five gold for a book?!? If it was a spellbook or something maybe I’d understand but - Doll that’s two thousand dollars. That’s worse than textbooks.”

With disdain, you shuffle the papers in front of you, until you come back to the one with the ‘character goals’ box. You add ‘become bookstore mogul’ to the list.

Doll has rolled his head on his arms, enough to peer at you. “You’re going to be a rules lawyer player, aren’t you.” He says morosely.

“Not at all. I’m - what was it, neutral evil? Neutral evil. No law to be found.”

He sighs, and sits up, “Alright, if you are finished mocking the fictional economy, we can look at backstory-“

You are not, in fact, finished mocking the fictional economy, however you don’t get a chance to continue to dismantle it either. Instead, your phone vibrates.

At first, you assume it’s Alexandria, giving you a heads up call so she doesn’t set off the klaxons. But Doll frowns and reaches for his phone as well, and the screens in the room flip on.

Each screen - from the oversized one you used to play D.D.R. for Alexandria’s birthday, to the smaller screens still locked behind cabinets, to both of your cellphones - plays the same video. A live camera feed, depicting two figures you recognize for their insignias, if nothing else.

Dymania - you still think of them as 'ringleader.' The one with the white patterns, that's Jester. Clairvoyance and teleportation, with a side of potential emotional manipulation.

"Boss?" Doll asks. You hold up a hand, still taking in the details of the video.

"Someone wants to make sure I see this." You murmur. "Let's find out why."

They're against a wall, so you can't tell much about their surroundings (metal, large panels, industrial?) but the camera is steady and stays in focus (tripod, high quality capture and broadcast, no one holding it. Not completely amateur) as Jester steps forwards and declares,

"Citizens! It's been a while since you've heard from us direct, hasn't it? I'm terribly sorry about all of that, but it's only because we were waiting to have a proper show for you all."

Dymania, the calmer of the two, falls easily into pattern. (Rehearsed? Pre-recorded?) "The current upset must be such a burden for those of you who would prefer to return to life as normal. Nevertheless, rejoice - for we are closer to that calm prosperity you so desire."

"Not everyone agrees with that philosophy though." Jester chimes in, rocking on his feet. The energetic enforcer to the calm mastermind. "For example, try our visitors from earlier today. At first, we thought they were here to stir things up, but..."

"They've been kind enough to volunteer instead. To serve as examples, that we might sooner reach our goals."

"And to demonstrate that we do believe in equality..." Jester closes to the camera, and the view changes - not in the blurry motion of a camera spinning or the sharp cut of spliced footage, but in the blink-and-done of a transfer from one feed to another.

Your heart drops. You feel cold. You are conscious, barely, of Doll's sharp intake of breath, of a cry from further down the hall where this must be playing, of the shadows that are twining around your limbs and the humming of the light in your bones.

Jester's narration continues, cheery and jarring and signing a death sentence with every word, "We've got someone from all sides for you! Civilian, government, military..."

The three people kneeling with their hands bound do not interest you. But beside them, there are two more, one in white and gold, and the other in matte black.

"Villain... and Hero."

One of them is Athena, and that alone would hurt.

But the other?

The other is Menace.

You are going to end the world today.

#synovus #synoverse #Villains Never Retire #The ending will be happy I promise #Guess the TV show and I'll give you a shoutout in the next installment #which will be the last even if its 3 times as long as the rest #'brevity is the soul of wit' #fuck off I weave masterpieces with wit's extraneous bobbles and bits #and yes #I do still type most of these on my fucking phone.

[goggles-mcgee]

Ashes of Rage: Act 1 - Picking Through The Rubble

Chapter 2 of the story for @miner249er

AO3 Last Chapter

Summary:

Luka is having a very terrible, horrible, no good, time.

He had a bad feeling in his gut and to his utter dismay, it was right. Luka had encountered many disappointments in his life and many hurt, but this was his first time encountering heartbreak.

Picking Through The Rubble:

Luka couldn’t explain the way his heart had been beating in his chest ever since Ladybug left the team in order for their plan to start. It was like listening to a drummer in a rock band having a solo at a concert next to the speakers. Loud. Overwhelming. All-consuming. All those things, but on a day where all your senses felt overwhelmed and too big for your body. Again, it was hard to explain and maybe that’s why he didn’t mention it to Donryu, or anyone else on the team. He knew they would never look down on him if his words made no sense or if he had a hard time using his words, but this was such an important moment for them all so he bit his tongue. Maybe if he hadn’t he wouldn’t have been too late. As it were, they had been in their own locations surrounding the Agreste Mansion, Luka, i.e Viperion was stationed closest in case he was called on by Ladybug and in need of Second Chance. The second closest to the target was Bee-Witch who they all knew was having a hard time keeping her emotions calm. They all understood of course, to think a man you saw as an Uncle had been using you and your emotions more than most in Paris, was not something easily accepted. 

Honestly it had been a shock and yet at the same time perfectly reasonable when Ladybug, Donryu and Noc-Turtle had announced to the group their belief that Hawkmoth and Mayura were none other than Gabriel Agreste and Nathalie Sancoeur. A shock because you never want to believe that a parent of one of your friends could possibly be the madman terrorizing Paris, and yet a reasonably sound idea when you thought about it. And the more you thought about it, the more sound it was. He was a notorious hermit, that meant he had the time to pull off causing akumas. He had a motive, a missing wife that went missing months before the attacks started happening. He was rich, which meant he had the funds. He had a plausible partner in one Mlle Sancoer, someone who did everything for him and would arguably do anything for him. It didn’t take a genius nor a psychic to notice just how in love Mlle Sancoeur was with M Agreste and with what the team had seen from Mayura, how devoted she was, it was the most believable theory. 

So they planned. Ladybug and Chat Noir would take the plunge and hope to catch Agreste off guard by breaking into his secret lair to confront the man. Luka would be positioned on a building facing the back of the Agreste Mansion, where the lair was highly suspected to be while Bee-Witch was on a neighboring roof near the front in case someone tried to run, her Venom already poised and ready to strike. Donryu was further down the road on a roof with Noc-Turtle in case an akuma or senti-monster was let out, or even both. The two were going to hold them off or distract them for as long as the main battle went on. Fox-Tail was positioned near the back of the mansion, ready to lend a Mirage if it was needed. He already had plans on what illusions would work best on M Agreste and Mlle Sancoeur.  They were ready. They were prepared. Everything should have flowed as smooth as a symphony, but one missed note had made Luka feel off-center and on edge. Chat’s expression when the team had briefed him on the plan and overall who they thought was Hawkmoth had worried Luka.

 It was a blink and you miss it, but Luka hadn’t missed it, he hadn’t missed the anger nor the fear. The shock the hero used to mask it was believable enough but something about it all left a bad taste in Luka’s mouth. 

The more time that passed, the louder Luka’s heart seemed to beat and the drier his mouth became, he longed to do something, anything, but the fear of ruining the plan made him freeze in his place. He wished he wasn’t transformed, that way he could fidget with his rings like he tended to do when he was anxious, but he had to be at the ready. They all did. That didn’t make waiting any easier and Luka was usually a patient guy. “It’s quiet.” He murmured.

“Indeed.” Donryu’s voice made him jump, he forgot they had their comms on, everyone beside Ladybug and Chat Noir that is. They would turn their’s on, only if they were in danger or needed backup. 

“Do you think something’s…wrong?” Noc-Turtle asked softly. His voice was laced with worry. 

“Our plan is solid. Ladybug always plans for the unexpected.” Bee-Witch pitched in confidently, but Luka could hear the slight hesitation in her voice. He didn't know if it was due to finding out who was likely Hawkmoth and basically admitting her identity with her reaction to news or if it was just nerves because of how big this fight was and all that depended on it going well. Either was a valid excuse. Luka could admit, he too, was nervous. More so for Ladybug and Chat Noir than himself and the others but the way the nerves pulled at his stomach were anything but pleasant and were more than a little distracting. He tried not to linger on the 'what could go wrongs' and did his best to think how they would be coming forward from this, but even he had to admit defeat eventually as it had not been working. 

Luka licked his lips as his thoughts flooded with various way things could go wrong. They brought a cacophony of sour notes with him that made him wince to himself. "Maybe…"

"You have a thought Viperion?" Donryu asked, though her questions almost always came across as statements, so did this one. 

"It's been a long time," Luka began, "we haven't reached the time limit yet but…Maybe we should enter the mansion and check on Ladybug and Chat Noir. If something is wrong I'll use Second Chance, if not then we return to our positions unless it looks like they need our help."

"A solid plan." Donryu commented. "Though perhaps we should not all go. It would do no good to completely abandon Ladybug's plan."

"So what? We split up even more?" Bee-Witch huffed. 

"Yes." Donryu confirmed. 

"It makes sense." Luka agreed. "Okay, Donryu, you and I will go check on them while Bee-Witch, Noc-Turtle and Fox-Tail stay in position."

Before Bee-Witch could even protest, Donryu was fast with placating the girl. "It's the most logical split. If an akuma or sentimonster is formed to fight Foxtail can distract them with their illusions and if Hawkmoth or Mayura try to run, Bee-Witch, you will be ready to sting them." 

It was logical. Maybe that was why they got nothing more than an irritated sigh in response from Bee-Witch. Luka had honestly just suggested Donryu because he trusted her to keep her cool no matter what they came across. Well, no matter. He jumped from his spot and landed in the backyard of the Agreste Mansion, it had never seemed more foreboding. There was just this eerie air that squeezed at his lungs and made his heart pound like before. It was not a new feeling whatsoever but it was one that Luka rarely felt as he was not one to panic easily. With one more swallow of his built up saliva - why was his mouth somehow dry yet watering at the same time ? - Luka made his way to the front of the mansion so he could meet Donryu. He made sure to stay on the opposite side of the road as to not be caught on the front cameras of the mansion. The security should have also been a clue, though , Luka thought, it did just help the rich recluse vibe that Gabriel Agreste had been selling. 

Footsteps to his left signaled Donryu's arrival. Now that she was here, Luka's heart felt like a jackhammer or that of a hummingbird. "Ready?" He asked even though he was decidedly not. 

Donryu gave him a firm single nod and it was all the answer he needed before they both turned towards the mansion and what happened next seemed to happen in slow-motion. Luka hadn't even set his foot down in a step before the ground shook and a brilliant red light blinded him and Donryu. Right when it reached it's brightest moment all Hell broke loose. The mansion exploded and the force of it sent Luka and Donryu flying into the nearest building. The pain was instantaneous. The taste of copper danced on his tongue and the smell of smoke nearly drowned him if the pain wasn't doing a good job of that already. His ears rung and when he tried to open his eyes his vision was slightly blurry. Luka hated to think what his fate would have been if it weren't for his magical suit. 

The ringing and accompanied dizziness started to drift away slowly but when it did he could hear the frantic voices of Foxtail and Bee-Witch. He wanted to tell them he was fine, that he and Donryu were fine but as soon as the thought came to him he immediately looked for his teammate who had been blasted back by the explosion. His eyes were unfocused, blurry, and his ears were still ringing but he had to find Donryu. They were too close to the explosion, who knows what happened, sure they had magical suits that could protect them but they could still feel pain no matter how diluted.

"Don….ryu…." He called out as best he could, he had no idea if it was loud or not. 

He stumbled. There was rubble everywhere, smoke stained the sky and everything was overwhelming. But he pushed on, he had to find his teammate, Ladybug asked him to make sure everyone was okay. He had to make sure everyone was okay, that they were safe. So he ignored everything around him, he ignored the pain, the ringing in his ears and he steadfastly ignored the blurriness of his vision, it was clearing up anyways, no need to sit and wait for it to do so. Luka called out as much as he was able to, his panic rising each time his call went unanswered, but finally he heard a weak response. 

"Vip…Viperion…..over here…" It was Donryu and she was walking towards him. It looked like they both had the same idea. Once they reached each other they just stood there with Luka's hands on her shoulders and her hands on his elbows. They took the time to look each other over and just breathe.

"Are you okay?" It felt like a stupid question to ask seeing as he felt like his entire body was bruised so surely she felt the same but still, he had to know. 

"About as okay as you I imagine." Came her wry reply. 

“You feeling up to a search?” 

Donryu nodded firmly, “Yes. We need to find Ladybug and find out what went wrong. Have you heard from the others? Are they injured?”

Luka licked his lips as he looked over all the debris around them and over to the surrounding buildings that were affected by the explosion. “Looking at the damage…I think they were far away enough not to get blasted like us but probably did get slightly hit by something. We should make sure before we do anything else. We need someone to look for…for survivors and any one injured.” 

Donryu’s lips became a thin line at the word ‘survivors’ but they both knew it was true. The violence of the explosion wouldn’t have been merciful enough not to hurt any passersby and unlike the heroes, those people didn’t have magically enhanced suits. He prayed that no one had been hurt, he had never been one to be an optimist but meeting and being around Marinette had made him want to see the good in people, the good in bad situations like she did, but this was a situation where his prayers seemed silly and redundant. He was also someone who rarely, if ever, prayed, so he hoped it counted for something. He prayed to every higher being he could think of as his head swiveled this way and that as he took in all the damage. 

Luka took in a deep breath before he took out his communicator, “Bee, Fox, you guys okay?”

“Are we okay!? You idiot! We weren’t the ones so ridiculously close to that stupid house!” Bee-Witch’s voice cut in right away, loud and shrill as always but so full of worry that Luka felt bad for the wince he made at the sound of her voice. Donryu looked like she felt the same if the scrunching of her nose and the guilty look that followed were anything to go by. 

“I’m okay, a little shaken and maybe mild bruising from a fall but Bee is right, are you guys okay?” Noc-Turtle asked. 

“That’s not what I meant!” Bee grumbled but they all knew that’s exactly what she meant.

“I got blasted back a bit but I managed not to be hit by debris or anything.” Fox-Tail groaned. 

“So overall we could be better but we’re not bad.” Donryu concluded. “Plan is somewhat the same. Viperion and I shall go and look in the…what is left of The Agreste Mansion, Bee, Fox, Noc, you three check for anyone injured and ....”

“Survivors. That was a bad explosion. I know it’s not something we want to hear nor consider but it’s best we all brace ourselves now.” Luka said. He hoped his voice came out stronger and more sure than he felt. 

Nods were given in response and they all went their assigned ways. Luka’s heart was performing it’s very own drum solo, it was roaring in his ears and it muffled all other sounds, including their footsteps. He kept biting at his lips, a habit of his when things were getting to be too much, it was better than him picking at his cuticles which was also a habit of his. Thankfully he had a magical suit that came with gloves so that was something he couldn’t do, thus he resorted to biting the skin of his lips. It felt like he was simultaneously moving through molasses and yet somehow walking faster that he normally could in the suit. It was like how five minutes in class seemed to go so slow yet five minutes out with friends went by so fast, but both happening at the same time. No words were said between Donryu and him, it was a blessing as he felt like he had run out of his daily quota of words already. At the same time though, he could have used a distraction. Eventually though the two reached what seemed to be the inside of Gabriel’s study but shockingly the floor was caved in. 

The more Luka looked around, the more he noticed that it wasn’t just the study. Parts of the flooring were completely caved in, like there was room for it to fall, a lot of room by the looks of it. They weren’t aware of a basement, Ladybug had somehow gotten the house’s floor plans and they had all studied it thoroughly, so the sight of just how deep the floors had caved in was staggering. “Do you think…?” Donryu didn’t finish her question but Luka guessed it all the same. 

“It’s possible. They were supposed to be in the top room though, the one with the glass dome looking design. It used to be a garden.” Luka mechanically replied. 

“Getting hit by the explosion from there would have…” 

“It…” Luka didn’t want to think about it. “It depends where, the uh…the explosion originated. They could be down there or….” 

“Further away.” Donryu concluded for him. He just gave a weak nod.

It felt like years went by as they climbed up and down the debris to look for their teammates, Hawkmoth and Mayura. It felt like years left him when he and Donryu realized they hadn’t checked the caved in flooring yet and that’s where they made their way to. Down they went and the more it seemed to go on and on and on. It was shocking to think the mansion hid this large amount of underground rooming. It felt like something out of a movie, whether it be horror or superhero, both fit in Luka’s opinion. It felt wrong to talk or even breathe too loudly so the silence was expected yet suffocating. It felt like the moment in a horror film where the music was swelling with the tell-tale sign of a jump-scare or when the superhero finds or sees something they didn’t want to but it happened anyway. Something settled in his heart then, whatever they were going to see was something horrid and something he never wanted to. It was a sad conclusion to come to, but when all the signs are pointing that way there really was no other way to conclude what was going to happen even if he wasn’t sure of the specifics. 

They had to grapple down because that is how far the ground actually was in this underground room that surprisingly had foliage in it, but it was when they had their feet firmly planted that Luka saw the thing he never wanted to. His vision seemed to skip over the coffin with a blonde woman in it, it skipped right over the three bodies on the floor that looked…well to put it lightly, it looked like they had been hit by a car or two and then some. No those sights didn’t catch his attention, though maybe they should have, no, it was the lone pair of pink flats with black bows on them. A very familiar pair of pink flats that he had seen many times, especially when their owner visited his family’s houseboat. No.

No. 

No, please.

Please not her. 

Not. Her .

Luka didn’t blink, he didn’t think, he screamed and his hand immediately went to his wrist. He pushed the snake head on his bracelet back harshly as he continued screaming and all he wished, all he could think of was going back and saving her. Going back and preventing whatever happened. He knew that too much time had passed but he didn’t care, he would push his Miraculous to its limits if he had to. He would push himself to his limits if it meant she was safe. It worked but it left him disoriented, it took a couple seconds for his eyes to adjust but even then he staggered as he got up on his feet, he could taste the metallic tang of blood. All of it was ignored as his head was full of thoughts all centered around her and the explosion. He ran as fast as he could, he didn’t even warn his team, he just ran. As he ran he heard a high pitched whistle and something in him told him it was the cause of the explosion. His lungs hurt as though he hadn’t taken a breath in ages but it didn’t matter. Nothing else mattered but her so he looked around for the source of the whistle and saw something red plummeting towards the mansion. 

He cried when he realized he wouldn’t reach the mansion before the object, whatever it was, would hit. He never hated being right so much, though he was closer to the explosion this time so he had to act fast and reset time before he ended up a stain on the street or something. Luka failed again, though he did try and warn his team the second go around. They had all been too confused by his yelling to really do anything. They all watched the mansion explode. The third go around went the same way but this time Luka got a closer look at the red thing hurling towards the mansion, it was small, deceptively so. Fourth round he managed to record the object, when he zoomed in on it he saw that it was a ring. How could a ring bring such destruction ? Many resets passed and all of them failed. Luka was exhausted but he had to keep trying, he needed to, but he had lost count of how many times he reset and moving felt like his blood had been replaced by molasses. He could feel it in his bones that this would be the last reset, his body couldn’t handle anymore and yet he cursed himself for not being stronger, for being too weak to continue. 

This reset started eerily the same as the original timeline had, though this time he put more urgency in his demands that the team stick to the plan, he hoped they started early enough but the familiar whistle was getting closer and Luka just knew it wasn’t enough. They wouldn’t be successful and that tore Luka apart, even if he knew they didn’t have a chance to save her , he still tried to push his body to be faster. It was all for naught, the ring made violent contact with the mansion once more and triggered the explosion. He was closer to the explosion this time, along with Donryu and they were thrown farther than they had been the first time and the pain was so much worse but it didn’t matter. He had to get to her , or what remained but he hated himself for thinking that. Instead of thinking, Luka just ran. 

_________________________

Kagami was running on adrenaline after being blasted back by the force of what seemed to be an explosion. She had turned to ask Viperion what that was, as she had a feeling he knew by the urgency he had had while getting the team to act. Whatever happened that had him acting like that could never be good so the team just followed his commands no questions asked. The questions seemed more than justified now and all she wanted was answers, but as she searched for her teammate she saw him running towards the remains of the mansion. Her heart stopped beating for a moment when it dawned on her that Ladybug had been in that house, so had Chat Noir, so she followed after Viperion as best she could. Despite them both being blasted into buildings Viperion was moving like it hadn't happened which worried Kagami even more than she already was. He moved like he had one thing on his mind and Kagami was reluctant to find out what it was, because whatever it was, wasn’t good and she knew it. 

She tried not to think of how she had followed him down in the mansion of her former crush, how it just kept going down , she may not be thinking about it but it did alarm her for the few seconds she let herself realize where they were going. She tried to ignore the feeling of doom that twisted in her gut, but the more they went down and seemed to still keep going, the more the feeling of doom overcame her. After what felt like a lifetime, they slowed down and Kagami felt a small bit of relief before it was completely squashed by the scream Viperion let out and the way he fell to his knees. It was awful, like something described in books and the one her own mother let out when her father had died. It was a scream born and full of grief. She wasn’t the best “people” person but her teammate was in pain and she wanted to help however she could but when she got closer she saw him cradling something familiar. Scarily familiar. She didn’t even register herself falling to her knees at the sight. Her eyes were too busy staring at the pink purse lying innocently in Viperion's hands. 

It was Marinette’s. 

Why was it there? 

Where was Marinette?

Questions zoomed around her head so fast it left her feeling dizzy. Then she spotted a pair of familiar shoes next to what had to be blood, charred blood. After that, there was no holding back a scream just as pain-filled as Viperion’s. She didn’t even notice her other teammates approaching the two of them. All she could do was scream as tears fell from her eyes, her eyes that were locked on the pink flats speckled with blood.

Next Chapter

#ml salt fic #ml x dc #mldc crossover #mldccrossover #ml red lantern au #red lantern Marinette #mldccrossover Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug #mldccrossover Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir #mldccrossover Luka Couffaine | Viperion #mldccrossover Kagami Tsurugi | Donryu #mldccrossover Nathaniel Kurtzberg | Fox-Tail #mldccrossover Marc Anciel | Noc-Turtle #mldccrossover Chloe Bourgeois | Bee-Witch #mldccrossover Gabriel Agreste | Hawkmoth #mldccrossover Nathalie Sancoeur | Mayura #adrien agreste salt #mldccrossover Tikki and Plagg #angst #hurt no comfort #like not even a crumb of comfort #tw blood mention #tw description of explosion

[human-antithesis]

Hermit’s Lair - Human Antithesis https://t.me/Human_Antithesis

Funeral Mist - Deiform (December 17th, 2021) Country: Sweden Genre: Black Metal Reuploaded: mp3 320kbps directly from NoEvDia

Lineup:

Daniel Rostén - Vocals, Guitars, Bass

Guest/Session:

Lars Broddesson - Drums

Miscellaneous Staff:

Daniel Rostén - Layout

Timo Ketola (R.I.P. 2020) - Artwork

NG - Photography

Label: Norma Evangelium Diaboli

Tracklist:

Twilight of the Flesh - 09:38

Apokalyptikon - 04:26

In Here - 08:56

Children of the Urn - 07:45

Hooks of Hunger - 04:54

Deiform - 09:09

Into Ashes - 09:10

#Hermit's Lair #Human Antithesis #Telegram #Funeral Mist #Black Metal #Daniel Rostén #Lars Broddesson #NG #Sweden #Timo Ketola #Finland #Artwork #Cover Art #Layout #NoEvDia #Norma Evangelium Diaboli #France

[spanishskulduggery]

Spanish Vocab List - El bosque de la bruja / The Witch’s Forest

I started this list all “let’s talk about trees and flowers” and then it took a hard turn into “now say you meet Baba Yaga in the forest...” and I’m not going to apologize for the spoopy witchy vibes

la bruja = witch [also technically you can see/use el brujo for “male witch” or “warlock” though often “witch” in English comes across as distinctly feminine]

el aquelarre = a coven, a witches’ coven

la hora bruja = the witching hour la hora de brujas = the witching hour

la brujería = witchcraft

el curandero, la curandera = healer [sometimes santero/a which has multiple meanings - it can be “witchdoctor” but also a practitioner of santería which is a mix of religious and folk traditions]

el hechicero, la hechicera = sorcerer, sorceress

el mago, la maga = mage / magician

el encanto = enchantment, charm / magic spell

el hechizo = magic spell, charm, hex

la maldición = curse

el maleficio = curse

el mal de ojo = evil eye

la caldera = cauldron [or “caldera” of a volcano]

el ermitaño, la ermitaña = hermit, recluse

la escoba = broom

la magia = magic

mágico/a = magic, magical

el hado = Fate los hados = the Fates

el hada, las hadas = fairy, fairies el hada madrina = fairy godmother

el/la vidente = seer el clarividente, la clarividente = clairvoyant, seer

el/la médium = spirit medium

la nigromancia = necromancy el/la nigromante = necromancer

la rueca = spinning wheel

la manzana envenenada = poison apple

malvado/a = evil, wicked

malo/a = bad, evil

bueno/a = good

la guarida = lair, den

lanzar un hechizo/encanto/maleficio = to cast a spell/charm/curse

la poción = potion

elaborar = to brew, to create  [in other contexts it’s “to elaborate”, but in the context of food or drink it means “to make” in the sense of “to labor over” - the idea here is that it requires time and effort to fully make it and get everything right, so it’s used for “brewing alcohol” or any mixture that requires significant time or specialized creation, and potion making in a fantasy setting]

~

el bosque = the woods / forest / woodland el bosquecillo = small forest [sometimes “copse of trees”]

la selva = forest [often more wild] / jungle

el jardín = garden

el huerto (de fruta / de frutales) = orchard el huerto = vegetable garden, personal garden [el huerto generally means “a garden for growing food” and can be either “(vegetable) garden” or “orchard”, but in English an “orchard” is specifically more “fruit”; but it could be either]

la arboleda = grove, collection of trees

el sol = sun

la luna = moon

la estrella = star

la nube = cloud

la lluvia = rain

la nieve = snow

la tormenta = storm la tempestad = storm, tempest

el rayo = lightning / bolt, lightning bolt, thunderbolt

el trueno = thunder

el granizo = hail / hailstone

la niebla = fog

la neblina = mist, fog

~

el amanecer = dawn

la mañana = morning

el mediodía = midday, noon

la tarde = afternoon / evening

el atardecer = evening

el crepúsculo = twilight

la noche = night

la medianoche = midnight

la madrugada = early morning, the wee hours of the morning

la víspera = eve (of something), the night before

el ocaso = sunset

diurno/a = day (adj), daytime / diurnal, awake during the day

nocturno/a = night (adj), nighttime / nocturnal, awake at night [as a general example las clases nocturnas mean “night classes” which is literally “classes at night”... as opposed to las clases diurnas which would mean “daytime classes”; in the context of school you could say tengo una clase nocturna y otras diurnas “I have one night class and others during the day”]

~

el árbol = tree arbóreo/a = arboreal, related to trees

el arbusto = shrub, shrubbery

el seto = hedge

la madera = wood

el tronco = trunk / log [also in anatomy “torso”]

el tocón = stump (of a tree)

la leña = firewood, log (for firewood usually) el leño = a log el leñador, la leñadora = woodcutter, lumberjack

la corteza = bark (of a tree) [also means “crust” for bread or the earth]

la copa (de árbol) = canopy las copas = canopy (of many trees)

la rama = branch

la raíz = root

la savia = sap [sometimes it also means “lifeblood” or “vitality” or “vigor”]

la hoja = leaf [or “blade”, or “sheet of paper”]

la flor = flower

el pétalo = petal

la semilla = seed

el tallo = stalk / stem

la hierba = grass / herb [sometimes spelled yerba] el césped = grass, lawn

la hierba mala = weed [lit. “bad grass”]

la especia = spice

la vid = vine

marchitado/a = withered, shriveled, dried up

la espina = thorn espinoso/a = thorny

la baya = berry

la hiedra = ivy la hiedra venenosa = poison ivy

el hongo = mushroom, fungus la seta = mushroom, toadstool el champiñón = mushroom [idk if it’s used everywhere but you see this at least in Spain for edible mushrooms sometimes]

el moho = mold

el musgo = moss

el liquen = lichen

la zarza = bramble, briar

silvestre = wild, growing in the wild

comestible = edible

el veneno = poison, venom envenenar = to poison venenoso/a = poisonous, venomous envenenado/a = poisoned, having poison in it

letal, mortal = deadly

~

el roble = oak

el arce = maple

el sauce = willow el sauce llorón = weeping willow

el fresno = ash tree

la pícea = spruce

el acebo = holly

la haya = beech

el pino = pine tree

el corno / el cornejo = dogwood

el álamo = poplar

el alcornoque = cork tree

la adelfa = oleander

la secoya = sequoia / redwood

el mangle = mangrove el manglar = mangroves [a collection of mangroves]

~

la rosa = rose

la violeta = violet

el lirio = lily [sometimes la azucena]

el jacinto = hyacinth

la hortensia = hydrangea

el girasol = sunflower

la malva = mallow [malva can also be “mauve”; also el malvavisco is “marshmallow”... literally “sticky/goopy/viscous mallow”]

la malvarrosa = hollyhock

el botón de oro = buttercup [lit. “gold button”]

la digital = foxglove

el narciso = daffodil, narcissus

la lavanda = lavender

la lila = lilac

la nomeolvides = forget-me-not

el loto = lotus

la menta = mint

la caléndula = marigold

la belladonna = nightshade

el acónito = aconite / aconitum, monk’s hood, wolf’s bane el matalobos = wolf’s bane [lit. “kills wolves”]

el muérdago = mistletoe

el rocío = dew, dewdrop, morning dew

el ajo = garlic el diente de ajo = clove of garlic [lit. “tooth of garlic”]

la cebolla = onion

la calabaza = pumpkin / gourd

el maíz = corn [also el elote in some countries] la mazorca = corncob, ear of corn

el trigo = wheat

la salvia = sage

el jengibre = ginger

la canela = cinnamon

el diente de león = dandelion [lit. “lion’s tooth”]

la escoba de bruja = witch hazel [lit. “witch’s broom”] el avellano de bruja = witch hazel [lit. “witch’s hazel”]

la pimienta = pepper [spice]

la sal = salt rociar sal = to sprinkle salt espolvear sal = to sprinkle salt / to dust with salt

~

la hoz = sickle

el arado = plow

la hoguera = bonfire / campfire, fire pit

el hogar = home / hearth

la guadaña = scythe

la cosecha = harvest

el arco = bow / arch

la flecha = arrow

el mortero = mortar el molcajete = mortar [some countries, especially Mexico]

la mano = pestle [otherwise it’s “hand”]

el mortero y mano = mortar and pestle

moler = to grind molido/a = ground

el molino = mill

la tabla / el tablón = floorboard, wooden board

la viga = beam / rafter

el umbral = threshold

el muro = wall, outside wall, boundary line

la cerca = fence la valla = fence

la ciudad = city

el pueblo = town / people, population

la aldea = town, small town

la frontera = frontier, border

el claro = clearing (in a forest), glade

la choza = hut

la casita = little house la cabaña = cabin / cottage

la granja = farm

la finca = plantation, estate, farmhouse

la paja = straw el tejado de paja = thatched roof [lit. “straw roofing”]

el taller = workshop

~

la cueva = cave

la caverna = cavern

la gruta = grotto / undercroft

la roca = rock

la piedra = stone

el monte = hill, mountain / wilderness, forested area

la montaña = mountain

la sierra = mountain range [or a “saw” as a tool]

la colina = hill

la falda = slope [in clothes la falda is “skirt”]

el pantano = swamp / bog / mire

la ciénaga = swamp / bog / mire

el lodo = mud lodoso/a = muddy

el fango = mud / silt fangoso/a = muddy

el río = river el riachuelo = little river, stream

el lago = lake

el estanque = pond

el arroyo = stream el arroyuelo = brook, creek

el mar = sea

el océano = ocean

la orrilla = shore

la marea = tide

la arena = sand

~

el ciervo = deer, stag la cierva = deer, doe

el venado = deer [can exist in feminine as well... this word also sometimes gets translated as “hart”; also sometimes venado is the word for “venison” or deer meat]

el lobo, la loba = wolf [la loba is sometimes “she-wolf” in some contexts]

el oso, la osa = bear [la osa is sometimes “she-bear”]

el búho = owl

la lechuza = owl [thing barn owls or snowy owls; the owls with a flatter looking face; a Lechuza is also sometimes a witch or evil spirit who snatches children said to be bird-like]

el cuervo = crow la corneja = raven [in general, el cuervo is used for both “crow” and “raven” even in literature, though el cuervo and la corneja are different technically]

el murciélago = bat

el sapo = toad

la rana = frog

la serpiente = snake, serpent la víbora = viper, snake la culebra = snake [more literary]

el conejo = rabbit la liebre = hare, rabbit

el gato, la gata = cat

la rata / el ratón = rat, mouse [largely interchangeable]

la mosca = fly

el mosquito = mosquito

la luciérnaga = firefly, lightning bug

la libébula = dragonfly

la pluma = feather

el diente = tooth

el colmillo = fang

el ala = wing [technically feminine; el ala, las alas]

la lengua = tongue

el hueso = bone

la calavera / el cráneo = skull

el cuerno = horn

el asta, las astas = antler, antlers [technically feminine]

la piel = skin / hide, fur [also piel can be “leather”; also the word el cuero is “leather” though not always as common]

el caracol = shell, seashell

el caparazón = shell, carapace

el polvo = dust

la ceniza = ash

la sangre = blood

~

el enano, la enana = dwarf

el elfo, la elfa = elf

el fantasma = ghost

el gigante = giant

el ogro = ogre

el trol = troll [creature and internet troll]

hermoso/a = beautiful apuesto/a = handsome, good-looking

bello/a = beautiful [more intense than hermoso/a]

embrujado/a = bewitched / haunted

la casa embrujada = haunted house la casa encantada = haunted house

la fiera = fiend, beast, wild animal fiero/a = wild, ferocious

feroz = ferocious, wild

la bestia = beast

el monstruo = monster

el castillo = castle

la torre = tower

la mazmorra = dungeon el calabozo = dungeon [in modern Spanish el calabozo is the word for “holding cells” in a police office or a place where someone is detained; in older Spanish it can be used as “dungeon”]

el don = gift

el poder = power, ability poderoso/a = powerful, mighty

el truco = trick

la moraleja = moral

encantar = to enchant / to delight

convocar = to summon

conceder = to grant, to bestow / to concede

bendecir = to bless bendito/a = blessed

maldecir = to curse maldito/a = cursed

#Spanish #learn Spanish #learning Spanish #spanish vocabulary #langblr #learning languages #vocabulario #so much vocab

[tea-with-veth]

ooh I'm curious about your story called 'hermits'

It's inspired by @applestruda's Boatem Knights art! I've never posted any of it, but the concept is a multichapter fic about a group of errant knights running from the past, in the middle of a slowly building apocalypse. Here's an excerpt (below the cut).

The dragon exhales a final burst of purple sparks, and goes still.  “Is it dead?” Impulse asks, clutching his sword and backing away. He’s breathing hard, blood dripping over his eye from a cut on his forehead. Occupational hazards of heroics, Pearl thinks wryly, slinging her scythe back over her shoulder. It doesn’t look serious.  “It’s over,” she says, hurrying over to give Impulse a hand up. “Anyone hurt?” She does a quick scan of the rocky hillside, where the dragon’s lair lies. Mumbo is there, standing silhouetted in the cave entrance, looking over his explosive contraption, the rocket launcher. His face is smudged with soot from a misfire, making him look like a particularly dirty mustached gutter orphan. The forlorn air with which he’s examining the launcher’s mechanisms is not helping in the slightest. Grian perches on the rocks above him, wings spread wide in a smear of color. Scar, on the other side, is already picking across the group for undamaged arrows to return to his quiver.  “It looks like we’re all in one piece then,” Grian says brightly. “Time for plunder!”  “Grian--” Impulse begins.  “Impulse. Look me in the eye and tell me we can’t take the gold.”  “It’s stolen!”  “Impulse. We’re mercenaries.”  “We’re getting paid!”  Mumbo frowns. “By whom, the farmers whose cows are now safe? They’re broke.”  “Well--”  Grian flaps down to where Impulse stands, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Impulse. We’re doing them a favor, see! We’re paying ourselves so they don’t have to.”  Pearl loops an arm around him and drags him towards the cave entrance, “Impulse you can’t pretend to be the conscience of this group. I saw you steal an entire pastry last time we were in the city.”  Impulse sighs and lets himself be pulled along. “I was hungry then!”  “Yeah!” Scar jokes. “And we’re poor now. Come on, let’s go look for gold.”  “I do like gold,” Impulse relents, and joins them at the cave entrance. Pearl whispers something to her scythe and it glows faintly. Grian lights a torch. From Scar’s cupped hands emerges a spectral cat which curls lovingly around his neck and then hops down on silent feet.  “Lead the way, Jellie,” Scar says, trotting after her. 

#teahound answers #ask game

[rionas-path]

Chapter 13

In My Grimoire

CXXVII. With a sudden twitch, she woke up in the midst of dim light; A smouldering candle gracing her with a wistful incense. She lifted her weary head from the black book of great importance, Which dutifully waited for her during the dreamy night. Perching her lips, she blew towards the candle, lighting it Brightly in a bluish flame, illumining the unlit Surrounding in a kind azure blanket. She could not recite The lateness of the hour, and frankly, cared not for such insight.

CXXVIII. One could not say when the goddess would return, to be made aware Of exactly which knowledge the girl had now been provisioned with; Time was of the essence if she were to unravel this myth. She rubbed her red rimmed eyes and resumed the scholarly affair. Knowledge hath always been what she had craved so wondrously, Doubly so when it spawned the Witch’s scorn so utterly. Indeed, the lore of the grimoire possessed much to beware, Yet still, much more for those who stood on the brink of despair.

CXXIX. The grimoire’s author spent ample amounts of precious time Developing the beguiling “languor’s powder,” which was the salve Of probable salvation of that daring night’s resolve. She tracked his mind’s passageways, as they traced his arduous climb Beginning at the start, and then towards the final yield: The fruit of his wondrous labour. Not a step was to be concealed. This black book read less like a piece of a researcher’s rhyme, And rather more akin to a diary of his whole lifetime.

CXXX. His frustrations, his goals, his beliefs. His eternal fight In deepest reaches of his soul, to soothe the old warlord Who shared his mind. He’d often befall to his frenzied sword; His ruthless rage, which caused his sordid banishment and flight Into this old, decrepit, and forgotten place of rest. Here he could escape all people-folk and prevent needless unrest. Thus, he began his life of a hermit, a monk, wanting to light Up his soul’s own darkened shadows, end his everlasting plight.

CXXXI. This pathway led him to discover the potent abilities Of alchemical concoctions that reason would return, If only for a little while. Alas, while this did adjourn His hospice of the god, calming his mental faculties, The powder had a sinister side. At first, unnoticeable, However, year after year of prolonged, inexplicable Use caused him to spend time and again in lazing, nigh infinities; At the edge of his self, creeping further into fragility.

CXXXII. For the while the god had slept, none of them could control or steer The wretched reigns; indeed, both had succumbed to the potency Of this compelling substance. None could escape its cogency. A fate of his own creation. A path forever clear, With no other end but an ever-closing final breath. A stifling melody, which could only ever end with death. The girl felt shudders down her spine which carried looming fear, Yet knew there was a way to shirk this fate at which she sneered.

CXXXIII. This concoction, she memorised by heart and would prepare Her first batch in the coming day. This much she knew was vital, As she slowly began to hear echoes of the voice titled In the farthest reaches of her vessel, the sewing of the tear. She closed the grimoire, and with a wave sent it gliding toward A bookcase nearby. Afterwards, she did again afford The help of the flow up the steps of wind into her lair Of circumstance, and thought about the tomorrow’s burial prayer.

#riona's path #fantasy #dark fantasy #poetry #epic poetry #poem #epic poem #literature #writing

[thecoppersoulbox]

Evidence:

1. Impulse said on stream that he’s already joined a “club” on Empires (which we’ll presumably see next episode)

2. Cub and Impulse have been spotted wearing black/monochrome versions of their outfits on namemc

3. Cub and Impulse are 2/3 hermits that Katherine showed her secret monster slayer lair to

Conclusion: Cub and Impulse have joined Katherine and made a monster slaying club

#they also get cool magical girl transformations #this is just a theory but by god do I want it to be true #empires smp #hc x empires #hc x esmp #impulsesv #cubfan135 #katherine elizabeth

[hmshermitcraft]

For theme

There’s one simple rule with dealing with hermits that every other living being must know: never step into their territory because they are nothing but monsters and murderers at least that’s what Grian, False, and Mumbo have been taught since they were kids they are the enemy to all humans. So it’s natural to send hunting parties in to fight these monsters in their home turf sometimes people come back sometimes they don’t and for all their lives Grian, False, and Mumbo have been training to fight hermits like their lives depended on it…and for the most part it did because they weren’t kids anymore they had to earn their keep in the village

Now the hermits aren’t stupid when a human enters the territory it’s simple kill em on sight if they look weak. If their not weak might as well give them a good fight until their dead at least that’s what Etho, Pearl, and Scar have always been taught they weren’t the strongest hermits by any means but when your a skeleton hybrid, a moth, and a….ok no one’s sure what Scar is really current bet is he’s a chimera of some sort. You make do with what you have so when they see a trio of very much very inexperienced humans enter the territory the decide that it’s time to prove themselves.

Today was the day! It was the trio’s first hunt and they’re gonna prove their worth to the village! No Mumbo it’s gonna be fine there’s no need to turn tail and run just stay behind your shield and you’ll be fine. Grian stop fiddling with the dynamite sticks! Sometimes it feels like False is the only one of them taking this seriously because it’s simple no successful hunt no food when they get back. So with dynamite, shield, and sword in hand the three were gonna succeed gods damnit! So they kept walking…and walking…and walking for hours before they decided to sit down and take a break before Mumbo collapsed onto them.

These humans were the most entertaining ones Etho, Pearl, and Scar have ever seen they bicker, they’re clumsy, and not that they would admit it but they’re cute looking too. Hiding in the treetops was definitely the right approach…until scar’s chair slipped off a branch causing him to land in the lap of the giant mustached humans lap. Etho and Pearl love Scar but for Void’s Sake Scar lock your wheels!

Now both trios were in a stand off trying to figure out who would make the first move would it be the humans with enchanted gear or the hermits with their bizarre Magic’s? Luckily neither as both suddenly both sides bolt away from each other out of panic when they heard a loud boom. Said boom turned out to be an incoming thunderstorm and False, Grian, and Mumbo knew they wouldn’t make it back to the village in time so reluctantly Etho dragged the other five people back to his “lair”.

Said lair turns out to just be a very lush and comfy cave filled with all the necessities a hermit would need. So the six sit there in uncomfortable silence just waiting for someone to make a move or say anything so that they can either try and kill each other or tell one side to leave. But Scar decided to break the ice by saying “Soooooo any plans for the weekend?” Which unfortunately made Grian laugh much to False’s dismay.

And slowly both sides started talking Etho talking about how Hermit’s were usually loners or at least the really powerful ones were, Grian telling them how he has an infinite supply of dynamite sticks. Scar no touchy! And eventually False told them how their village worked which Pearl bless her wings tells em they aren’t the only human village. Which to the three humans was a massive shock to say the least because they had been raised to believe they were the last human village and well looks like the hermits have a lot to teach these three.

After the storm passed the humans were just flabbergasted at the amount of information they’d learn not only is the territory of the hermits not just limited to this seemingly endless forest but oceans, jungles, even other dimensions! And meanwhile the hermits felt…sad for them they’d been raised to believe anything that’s outside their villages walls will kill them so now it’s their turn to help them but it’s gonna take convincing them to fake their deaths….

Grian, False and Mumbo are already reluctant to go back to the village. How can they trust the people there after so many lies? The hermits even supply them with food - why are they even hunting them?! None of this makes sense to False, and she doesn't like being lied to.

Etho finds her outside, on the ledge in front of the cave as she stares into the vast forest. There's a hard set to her face, expression difficult to make out. To Etho's surprise, she speaks without turning to him. Asking if hermits have to prove their worth. Etho answers honestly. He, Pearl and Scar are considered weaker than a lot of hermits, but that's why they work together. They wanted to kill the trio of humans to prove themselves, too.

False laughs bitterly, pulling her hair into a tight ponytail. When she re-enters the cave, she declares she's not going back to the village. She's seen what they do to people that question their ways, and she refuses to be branded a heretic for not wanting to live a lie.

Grian is quick to agree. To go back with no kill, having to pretend their entire worlds haven't just turned on their heads? He'd go insane. The only reason he didn't go stir crazy in that village already is because he thought there wasn't anywhere else!

And, well. Mumbo goes where Grian goes. And... The hermits seem nice. Killing them doesn't make him feel particularly good about himself. He doesn't think they'll last very long out here, but travelling could be fun! At least they'd learn a lot more than living in the village until the end of their days.

The hermits feel as if they're witnessing something monumental. They tell the three they'll need to do something to get the humans off their tail and Grian just laughs. He points out, have they ever seen the humans come after somebody that didn't come back? They're just three less mouths to feed!

The three hermits look at the cave around them - the quiet, comfortable life they've created here. But... Maybe something like this is worth leaving it behind.

#hermitshipping #ask #grian tag #false tag #mumbo tag #etho tag #pearl tag #scar tag #grumbo #grifalsethscarbo #mod 🎀 #weekly theme: enemies to lovers #grifalsethscarboon