#angled worm lizard

[antiqueanimals]

Grzimek's Animal Life Encyclopedia. Volume 6: Reptiles. Written by Bernard Grzimek. 1984.

1.) Mexican beaded lizard (Heloderma horridum)

2.) Gila monster (Heloderma suspectum)

3.) Earless monitor lizard (Lanthanotus borneensis)

4.) Angled worm lizard (Agamodon anguliceps)

5.) Checkerboard worm lizard (Trogonophis wiegmanni)

6.) Cape worm lizard (Monopeltis capensis)

7.) Red worm lizard (Amphisbaena alba)

8.) Four-toed worm lizard (Bipes canaliculatus)

#reptiles #lizards #mexican beaded lizards #gila monsters #earless monitor lizards #angled worm lizards #cape worm lizards #red worm lizards #four-toed worm lizards

[sparrow-in-boots]

okay so, I'm going to get to Lucy Stillman and the franchise's treatment of her, but i think I need to explain my own feelings about the portrayal of the modern brotherhood first. I do not buy the "brotherhood = conspiracy theory cult" angle. It's flawed and leads to terrible takes overall, by the lore and by the fandom.

It's a holdover from the fact that the game decides to run with conspiracy theories that we have in the real world, and assign them all to the Isu. they even poke fun of it in the earlier games with the whole lizard people and space wizards in tinfoil hats comments. now that's a whole can of worms in itself given how deeply racist and antisemitic the overwhelming majority of conspriacy theories are, but it's not a good way to portray the assassin brotherhood because that's not what they are. they are far leftists. they are anarchist cells, they are commune organizers, they are revolutionaries. that's not me saying it either, that's just canon, plain and simple.

but that would make the story too close to real-life politics and they can't do that cus it's not in their interests.

therefore, the brotherhood is coded as isolationist cultists, or at least as far as The Farm goes. in current year, i think we can all agree there's an inherent fallacy (if not outright disengenuous portrayal) of painting your leftist organization fighting against the capitalist neocolonial hegemony with the same strokes as the whacky people starting communes in the middle of nowhere to escape 5G towers, fluoride water and the [insert villanized minority group here].

i don't buy it, i don't appreciate it, and i think we could have had a stronger story without it, even regarding Desmond's backstory.

THAT SAID, let's take a look at Lucy. her's is the story of a girl who was forced into adulthood too early after being left to her own devices by a very sheltered and isolating community that failed her, and then inducted into a cult which ultimately killed her and then was promptly swept under the narrative. that cult is the templar order by the by.

Lucy was born and raised within the Brotherhood, and pretty much set lose on the world with no connectiosn to speak of. surely they must have given her a paper trail, fake parents and school enrollments, medical records, the works. she was told to infiltrate Abstergo and probably given a general path towards that, namely research that could be useful to them, but otherwise? she was on her own.

first thing that comes to mind is when Amish folks get their time away from their hometown to experience the world and choose to come back or not. i can't comment on their experience and general view on this so i won't attempt to draw a parallel here, but just that initial mental connection speaks for itself imo.

She speaks of having to wait tables to make ends meet, and while that's the socially expected experience of solo living for a young adult leaving home (work minimun wage jobs, go to college, climb the chain, start small, etc), she has no home to return to. In fact there's this looming tension that even opening up to missing her home or going into detail about it could blow her cover. Even in the privacy of being around friends and colleagues, there's this necessity of keeping up a front. She has to buy it so deeply it becomes her, inside and out, and doing that at such a formative age is bound to take it's toll.

You're removed from everything and everyone you've ever known. You don't know when or if you'll ever see them again. In fact they can die at any moment and you might never hear about it. Contact with them is a fraught and dangerous thing, and even the slightest slip could spell your doom and theirs. Connection is a constant swinging sword of Damocles over her, and who can take comfort and solace from community like that? No one, is who. So of course she'd seek that away from where she could endanger everyone.

So in comes Vidic. She knows he's a templar, of course she does, but he's kind and understanding, a bit frustrating and headstrong, but she can usually talk him into chilling out here and there. And of course, one can draw a parallel between him and Bill. Both are strict and charismatic (in their own way) father and mentor figures, but while Bill is cold and hard, Vidic feigns affection (as Haytham so eloquently put) and the worst part is, it works. Any affection and attention is good attention for the starved, and Lucy's been on the end of her ropes since she's been outside of the Brotherhood.

She knows and can see it's all manipulation, she's not that blind of course, but it chips away at her. That's what emotional manipulation does after all. And then, in come the agents to kill her, and Vidic stops them.

All her life she's heard how brutal and merciless the templars are, and surely she's seen it too while working under them, but right when her facade slips and she should be dead, she's not. Because Vidic spares her. Of course that leaves a deep impression on her, and further erodes her resolve. Slowly but surely, she opens up, and Vidic is an expert at what he does. She may hold quite a bit of guilt and shame at turning, but the templars were there when the brotherhood wasn't.

Bill says that of those they send to infiltrate the templars, they are either "too strong" and can't keep up the charade, or are "too weak" and turn. How is being a human being who needs connection and community "too weak"? How is being slowly lovebombed and manipulated into choosing the wire mother and then being foresaken the plush one when in need weakness?

Desmond says that she "seemed so sincere, like she really wanted to make a difference", and I truly believe she did. Her morals and belief were twisted through years of emotional torture and isolation, and she knew she couldn't return to the brotherhood after how far she caved under the pressure. There's no space for the nuances and endless gray areas of such an unbalanced war in the current brotherhood, and she knows it, so throwing in with the templars for her was the lesser evil. She's not fool enough to buy their propaganda wholesale, but it's a necessary concession in her mind so she can excuse her taking advantage of their attention and community. Again, as long as she's useful to them, she has a place among them.

However, the way she's treated by the narrative is... w o w. We never get the chance to hear it from her side, expect by a pathetically short email on the ACR dlc. While having the protagonists agonize over someone's beliefs after their passing and finding no solid answers, they really don't spend nearly enough time for that to carry much weight narratively. In fact, there's hardly much of a critique on the conditions that led her to that kind of fall from grace, and even less is done to fix it.

She, much like Clay, are the epitomes of how the brotherhood is mirroring too much the templar's and Juno's disregard for human life, and how that needs to change in order for them to turn the tides. But nothing comes of it, because our anchor to the modern timeline gets doomed by the narrative and now all those loose plot holes go nowhere. Her funeral, her burial, her memory, it all gets waved about like an annoying gnat on the dinner table, and nobody does anything but try their best to ignore it until it goes away. Her actress couldn't keep with their schedule, so they got rid of her in the most pathetic horrifyingly dismissive way possible.

Personally I'm not a fan of the templar turncoat plotline they gave her, but if that's what they wanted to go with, then it needed much MUCH more careful writing and it needed to fucking GO SOMEWHERE. But it doesn't. And it sucks.

#assassin's creed #lucy stillman #pardal rambles #ac meta

[melonba11s]

Scoleciphobia (Reupload)

One of my nastiest fics, Strade using MCs phobia against them.

Minors and Ageless blogs do not interact, you will be blocked.

Contains: Bugs, Bug Death, Bug Harm, Non-Con, Force Feeding, Vomit, Fearplay, mild self harm/attempted self harm.

Being kept by Strade meant a lot of things. It didn’t mean you were safe from his urges though, and so you had grown used to occasionally being called into the basement, tied up yet again, and forced to endure as he carved into your skin, leaving behind scars you’d carry for the rest of your life. Or sometimes he’d decide to call you names, degrade you until you were a mess of tears and shaking, only then would he pull his cock out and find some other way to defile you. 

Today was no different, you were splayed out naked. For some reason, this time, he wanted you naked. Your wrists were tied above your head to the pole, and he had hooked a spreader bar between your thighs, just above your knees. He then left, saying he needed to grab one more thing. You could only sit there, shivering a bit, and a little red in the face. You felt especially vulnerable, not even able to clamp your legs shut. 

You tried to focus on your breathing, in and out, slowly. To brace yourself for what was to come. Pain was easy to prepare for, too anticipate, but no matter how many breaths you took you knew you would always give Strade what he wanted. Screams, cries, shaking your head, closing your eyes in agony, begging him to stop. You rationalized that soon it’d be over. He’d help bandage you, pat your head, and then you could go on with your day. As best you could. 

You lifted your head as he came in, whistling as if he had just picked up the morning paper. In his hands, was a box, with some holes in it, and mesh covering the holes. It sent a sudden shudder up your spine. Whatever was in that box, you felt like it would be horrific. It couldn’t be anything good. 

“Don’t worry Buddy! This is the last thing I need today!” He set the box down gently. You stared at it, noting the large red letters on the side. “

DO NOT OPEN WITH KNIFE OR SHARP OBJECT. THIS COULD RESULT IN PRODUCT DAMAGE”

A warning Strade usually ignored. But not this time, you watched curiously as he dug his finger under the tape, pulling it off with some effort. From the angle you were at, all you could see inside was old newspapers that looked a tad chewed on. Strade began unfolding and digging the newspaper out, and you couldn’t hold back a whimper as something fell to the ground, wriggling. 

It was a grub of some kind, and your breath involuntarily hitched. Something Strade noticed, with a cheeky grin. 

“Mealworms! You can buy them online, people use them to feed pet lizards or something.” He carefully picked up the one that had fallen out of the box and set it back inside. “I think they’re a little cute, don’t you?” he pressed. 

Strade knew exactly what he was doing. He knew how much wriggling worms like these freaked you out, especially after you had screeched when he had dug out a maggot covered something from the trash one day. You could only shake your head as he lifted the box, approaching you. 

“Aww, are you shy?” he asked, his grin twisting and deforming his face as he got closer. “Come on, buddy! They want to meet you! They want to be your friend!” 

You could only watch, breath stuck in your throat as he tipped the box over. A cascade of worms poured out, raining down. The way they hit your unprotected flesh felt like a flurry of tiny stones, pelting you. Their tiny legs instantly clung to you, and each tiny prick of them digging their microscopic claws into you set a jolt of lightning through you. 

You couldn’t even hear yourself scream, thrashing around as much as you could, your mind filled with white noise. It wasn’t until you shook the first off, and it subsequently was crushed beneath your writhing body did you finally come back to reality. 

You choked on your scream, it dwindling down into sobs, your body now as unnaturally stiff as you could make it, toes flexed and dug into the basement’s concrete floor as if hoping you could dig into it and bury yourself under it, anything to get away from the thousands of creatures now roaming your body. 

It went like this for a while, the movement and clinging becoming too much and you exploding into a burst of wails and wiggling, only to feel the tiny segmented bodies smash and break against you. Then you’d stiffen up, not wanting to feel the cold slime of their insides covering you anymore. 

You looked up at Strade, pleading in your eyes, your face covered in your own spit and tears. 

“Strade- Strade please. Get them off. GET THEM OFF.” you spat out the final scream like a bitter medicine. It usually took him a bit to get ready to go, but to your surprise, he already had his cock out, and was stroking it furiously, his face red, his pants audible. 

“You don’t like them buddy? They seem to like you a lot… Aw fuck, I can’t take it anymore.” You let out a yelp as he lifted your legs, squeezing himself in between them. He was licking his lips.

“I can’t see your hole with all of them there. But it’s okay. I remember where it is.” You heard a ringing in your ears, as he pushed himself in. It burned, It hurt, you were tearing in half. Your sensitive parts could feel everything. 

The rolling of disembodied heads before they were smashed to bits. The way the legs still stuck inside as they were flattened and pushed inside. Cold, gooey, everything spreading inside, Strade uncaring as he groaned and only forced himself further, unbothered. The only thing he was concerned with was how it made you feel. 

You weren’t screaming anymore. You were letting out choked gasps, wheezing in breaths, staring at him with blown out pupils and a mouth opened wide in horror. No matter what you sucked in, it was never enough, and likewise, enough wouldn’t come out either. Your chest was stuck, frozen it felt like, mid breath. 

Strade smiled down at you, shaking his head. A worm was in his hair, and it fell from his head too the floor, before beginning to inch away. It was something you could focus on. That single worm, crawling away from a horror it couldn’t comprehend, a situation it had no capacity to understand. It was so much better than what was happening right now. And Strade couldn’t have that happening. 

“You know buddy.” He panted, continuing to piston in and out of you. “I hear mealworms have a high protein content.” It shook you from your dissociation, your eyes locking back on him. 

“Strade. Strade No.” Was all you could pant out, but when had Strade ever listened to you when you said “no.” down here? He let out a laugh, more akin to a mischievous giggle, like he was about to spray you with the hose. 

“You got your mouth hanging wide open, liebling! You must be pretty hungry!” You clamped your mouth shut as he scooped up a handful, stretching your neck back as far as you could, to get your face away from his. 

“Open wide!! Come on! They wanna come inside!... Well, they want to come inside the other door.” his voice took on a darker growl, and you were suddenly reminded of the mess happening on your other end. It was enough to draw out another screaming wail, just wanting it to stop. 

And that was enough time for Strade to let the worms fall from his fingers like a light snow. You began to spit and sputter, but he slapped a hand over your mouth, amber eyes boring into you. 

“Chew.” he commanded. Bitter, Crunchy. They were alive. They were alive. They were crawling. They were everywhere. Crawling down your throat, crawling up your sinuses, coming out your nose, ears, your entrance. 

They.

Were. 

Everywhere. 

You couldn’t help yourself anymore. You lurched your body back and forth, left and right, screaming like a wild animal. You didn’t want this anymore, you wanted to die. 

“KILL ME.” You screamed. Trying to command a man who had no reason to listen to you. “JUST FUCKING KILL ME ALREADY.” 

Strade silenced you with a few fingers in your mouth, pushing your head back. 

“Hush, Schatzi. I’m almost done.” His fingers tasted like sweat, grease, and the worms. Something else to focus on. Something else to think about. His fingers, feeling the swirls of his finger prints under your tongue, the edge of his nails on your teeth. It was something that could ground you. 

You knew your body was reacting to Strade’s ministrations. It had been for a while. A familiar pressure building, shudders running up your spine. But you couldn’t really feel it. You just had to keep focusing on his index and middle finger. You bit down. 

He didn’t make any noise of pain, though you knew it must hurt. But you couldn’t let him take them away, take away the only thing keeping you away from what was currently going on. The rusty taste of blood helped, and you lapped it up without thinking. 

And then you remembered what else had been down your throat, and you could no longer take it. Just as your body spasmed against Strade, as he forced you to a climax, it was finally too much. 

The hot acid and bile rose in your stomach and spewed out of your throat, soaking your naked chest. The site of bits of the mealworms in your vomit only made you gag and continue to spew what felt like every ounce of liquid in your body out. 

And you wanted too. With each new wave, it worked to wash away the last of the worms off you. You were forcing yourself to continue now, spitting and gagging. You just needed them off. 

Just

Needed. 

Them. 

Off. 

You must have passed out at some point, finally exhausted and overwhelmed. You couldn’t feel anything anymore, but were vaguely aware of Strade finishing inside of you, and pulling out. You felt a few slaps to your cheek but you couldn’t react. You just let yourself sink into welcoming darkness. 

It wasn’t until warm water ran over your face did you awake, eyes flying open to stare at the bathroom ceiling. A familiar pair of ears flickered in your vision. Ren. 

“Strade isn’t here.” were his first words. Something that made you relax, if only slightly. There wouldn’t be anymore today. You could only swallow the bile in your throat, choking on a sob as your gaze slid over to him. Ren looked concerned, but offered you a small comforting smile.

“He uh. Asked me to clean you up. There was a lot… But, uhm. I thought maybe, you’d like a nice bath! So when I got you all cleaned up I put you in here. What soap do you want? I have this nice vanilla, or I can dig out the fancy mango-” 

“Bleach.” Your voice was hoarse, barely a whisper, but your demand made Ren react as if you had yelled it. “Bleach. Ammonia. Lye. Get it off me, Get it all off me.” You lifted yourself, beginning to scrabble to get under the sink, where you knew there was what you needed. Drain cleaner. Toilet cleaner. Anything. Anything strong enough to strip off your skin. 

Ren though, was much stronger than he looked, and managed to wrestle you back into the tub. 

“Please, Please, just relax.” he was begging, but he was keeping his voice soft. “Strades asleep… You don’t want to wake him up…” 

You fell back at his name, staring down at your body. It felt so foreign to you. The sound of a drop of water as you began to cry again, and now you were sobbing into your hands. Doing your best to keep yourself quiet, as Ren continuously hushed you everytime you got too loud, trying to comfort you with a back rub. 

A small comfort, which really felt so tiny, especially knowing that Strade could, and would, do this again. 

#Strade

[watching-pictures-move]

Movie Review | The Seventh Curse (Lam, 1986)

We open with a standoff between cops and crooks. The cops have the crooks surrounded but the crooks have a sharpshooter. Our hero, proving what great big cojones he has, enacts a scheme to surprise the bad guys by pretending to be a doctor, but it nearly goes awry when the nurse who's supposed to accompany him turns out to be a pesky reported not in on his idea. What erupts is as rollicking as any action scene in mid-'80s Hong Kong cinema, but it's shot in moody blue lighting and wide angles, as if to let us know something is up. Well, it turns out he has some curse that will cause him to die gruesomely if he gets near a woman, which coincidentally is the exact same reason I'm still single.

So naturally he has to go down to Thailand and investigate an evil cult. We know this cult is evil because they're all about human sacrifices, and when one of the cult members isn't down for doing a human sacrifice, the leader sics a fucked up lizard baby monster on him, which is a great way to settle an argument. It turns out the person they plan to sacrifice is this total babe the hero saw earlier in the water in a see through gown, and he ends up pissing off the cult when he saves her. Imagine the scene in Cannibal Holocaust where Robert Kerman watches some of the cannibals rape a woman without intervening so he could follow them back to the village, and imagine if instead he jumped in to put a stop to the rape, only because he wanted to get with the cannibal woman. To repay the favour, she helps save his life by taking off her clothes, cutting her breast in closeup and feeding him a bloody orb. All of these steps are very important, and this isn't the only time someone eats an orb in this movie. Also, it turns out he still has the curse, and more hijinks ensue. I dunno, a lot of things happen, it's hard to explain.

If I had to summarize this movie's influences, it's roughly a combination of A Chinese Ghost Story and Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom. It pulls from the energetic visual style of the former, and the action-adventure elements and gonzo luridness of the latter, cranking it up a few degrees in explicitness. (I understand gross supernatural horror was a popular genre in Hong Kong cinema, but I think this one pretty blatantly takes cues from the Spielberg movie.) I do think the action-adventure mold presents a bit of a problem, in that the movie isn't terribly interested in making sense of the curse, meting out explanatory details as a total afterthought, so that the stakes aren't entirely clear. That being said, any story here is clearly a clothesline for the set pieces, and the movie is so packed with incident that narrative flimsiness becomes a non-issue. Every few minutes there's a high energy action scene or two-fisted image to hold your attention. Glowing eyeballs, reanimated skeletons, that fucked up lizard baby monster, torn flesh, worms. It's like the Bulk Barn of action-horror movies.

The bigger problem is that Chin Siu-Ho is pretty bland as the protagonist. He's supposed to be some sort of dashing ladies man, but we never see how smooth he actually is. As the centre of the movie and the person upon whom all emotional stakes are placed, this is a bit of an issue, but his flatness means that our attention turns to the supporting players, and this is a star-studded cast. The posters prominently feature Chow Yun-Fat, but he's really in the movie for a few minutes, popping up sporadically to huff on a pipe, although he does get a great moment in the finale. The role carries the aura of someone calling in a favour, but I like to think that Chow just wanted something to do on his day off and showed up to the set. There are also a ton of smaller roles from recognizable faces (Kara Hui and Yasuaki Kurata as police officers, Chor Yuen and Wong Jing at a party, Joyce Godenzi as a woman the hero tries to pick up, to name a few), but really this movie is Maggie Cheung's show. Her role as the pesky reporter could have been annoying in other hands, but she plays it for maximum goofy charm. Cockblocking the hero at every turn, getting herself into all kinds of trouble, but also saving the day multiple times thanks in part to the shitload of guns she brings to the adventure. A character that's very hard to hate, especially in Cheung's tremendously charismatic hands.

#film #movie review #the seventh curse #lam nai choi

[socrateswept]

Kakashi raises Naruto thing part 4

Prev

Kakashi was sent out on another mission, so he could put the whole talk to Mikoto thing on the back burner for now. It was a mission to Iwa which promised to be a weeks long mission. Maybe even a month if they dragged their feet.

Captain Bear did not let them drag their feet. He set a hard pace. One that threatened to exhaust them by the time they got there.

Kakashi tried to keep up, but he was more of an ambush ninja. One who struck hard and fast. His endurance was pitiful compared to his coworkers. Who had six years on him. An eternity in terms of training.

Despite his best efforts he lagged behind his team.

Which saved their lives when they were intercepted by a group of missing nin.

His team ascended a cliff as sheer as it was barren. Only a few wispy weeds sprouted along its face. Kakashi had only just reached its base when it started to crumble. Sheets of rocks sliding down in a rumbling wall. His team were swept up by it. None of them had an earth affinity that might have let them counter it.

Kakashi was struck dumb. Flashes of Obito’s face flickering over his vision.

That did not mean he stood still.

Electricity sprung from his body and surged upwards in a layer as thin as an eggshell. Breaking apart the rocks into a shower of fine dirt. It pattered down like a gentle summer rain. Ksssssh.

The threat gone his team easily got out of the trap.

In a burst of speed they landed next to him. Nobody was injured. Nobody was crushed. And yet Kakashi couldn’t get his stomach settle. Nausea bubbling under his skin.

Maybe it was the jutsu making him feel this way. This was the first time he got to practice in the field since he invented it.

“Scatter!” Captain Bear ordered. “Iwa nin benefit when you are grouped together.”

Kakashi and Lizard went left. The rest went right.

He was tired. His legs ached. It was inevitable he fell behind again. Lizard was ahead of him mid jump when the ground beneath him crumbled into a jagged pit. Sharpened stones angled up like crocodile teeth.

The pit was big.

Too big for Lizard to be able to reach its edge.

Kakashi threw a kunai as far away from it as he could manage. Lizard substitued himself with it. Landing in the yellowed grass.

The kunai, now above the pit, dropped and was immediately skewered by secondary stone spikes that burst forth from the initial trap. So even if a victim had landed on the walls they would not have been able to avoid the hidden spikes. Insidious.

Furious, Kakashi’s eyes swept over the empty field. There was nothing. Not even a field mouse.

Iwa nin loved to hide in the dirt like worms.

“Lizard, clear the area.” Kakashi said. Electricity dancing up his arm as he charged up a chidori.

“What are you—“ Lizard asked, almost lazily.

“Now!” He shouted and shoved his fist into the earth.

Against the natural ground this wouldn’t have done much. Against chakra filled earth, however, it was very effective.

The ground writhed underneath him. Heaving like a ocean’s wave. Without the earth chakra to support it the dirt rapidly began turning into sludge. Now the Iwa nin had the choice of suffocating or coming up to face his team.

Sure enough the man surfaced. Hands already forming his next jutsu.

Kakashi lunged for him. Tanto slicing through the air like a wolf snapping its teeth.

But then his arm spasmed and his tanto dropped from his nerveless fingers. His eyes darted down to see why his body betrayed him. Smoke curled up from his sleeve. Tattered and charred. With each breath he took a little bit more of his shirt crumbled away.

Ah. He channeled too much of his chakra through his arm.

All of a sudden the pain hit him and it nearly bowled him over. Shit. He shouldn’t have used the chidori like that. It was meant to go through hearts not dirt. He might have even burnt his chakra veins.

It hurt bad enough for it.

The Iwa nin smiled nastily as he finished the last handsign.

The ground rumbled beneath him, but all Kakashi managed was a few stumbling steps. Exhaustion sapping his ability to move.

He was going to die here.

A massive wall of spikes shot toward him like an earthen tsunami. His sharingan catching the moment with perfect clarity.

Then—

You can read the rest here. Sorry for the inconvenience. I just didn't wanna format it for both tumblr and ao3 if I was going to be posting on both platforms. Lol

#kakashi hatake #mikoto uchiha #naruto #naruto fic #socwrites #preview

[drinksss]

angled worm lizard

#artists on tumblr #herpetology #angled worm lizard #Agamodon anguliceps #worm lizard #amphisbaena #reptiblr #reptile art

[my-decade]

random aot headcanons bc I was bored 🤍✨

note: most/all of these are not canon-universe compliant so do with that what u will lol

eren: unironically listens to yummy by justin bieber. for his 19th birthday he made mikasa pierce his ear with a shitty piercing gun he bought off craigslist for like 3$ even though she told him she’d pay for a professional to do it. like he’s lucky he didn’t get sepsis and lose his ear. secret owl city stan sasha: has one of those small tacky food tattoos like a pizza slice or a cheese sandwich somewhere random, like on the inside of her wrist or on her ankle so at least it's not super noticeable connie: had a phase where he naruto-ran everywhere. also he may have a matching food tattoo with sasha. ALSO buys all of his t-shirts from gas station gift shops reiner: heard beautiful soul by jesse mccartney playing in the mall once and cried. secret bridgerton stan. huge sucker for romance but you wouldn’t know it from looking at him mikasa: wants a big family someday, like literally she wants 5 kids. don't tell anyone. also can run even faster in heels then normal shoes zeke: is literally an old man with no life who's hobby is throwing bread crumbs for pigeons as he sits alone on a park. also he's saved in his s/o's phone as 'my monkey man' and yes that is a twilight reference 🦧 jean: literally a sugar daddy for his s/o like he will overwhelm them with how much money he drops on them just to shower them with love its ridiculous. like “o ya I saw these 3k diamond earrings at the store and they reminded me of u” ridiculous armin: has the most aesthetically pleasing instagram and is the nastiest in bed out of all of them historia: all of her passwords have ymir's name in them; it's just easier for her to remember. probably owns like 3-4 small dogs she walks on leashes together ymir: all of her passwords have historia’s name in them. also she’s a lizard girl levi: we all know he ~can't get drunk~ but IF he did he'd probably do something insane like go egg Zeke’s house. its the only chance to see him be messy bertholt: can't dance to save his life but is excellent at doing the worm, it is a very handy party trick erwin: owns and wears at least 3 (three) boonie hats and does NOT understand why people think its funny. it’s sunny out, why wouldn’t he wear a protective hat? porco: secret taylor swift stan. marcel probably walked in on him secretly dancing to message in a bottle and he screamed at him to get tf out annie: secret shoujo manga stan and avid watcher of onegai my melody pieck: you can video call her anytime and she will pick up BUT the camera angle will always be this 

#attack on titan #aot headcanons #eren yaegar #personal

[kabira]

07 | trust issues

pairing — spider-man!vernon x ofc

featuring — joshua, yeji (itzy), felix (skz), yangyang (nct)

word count — 3k

genres — spider-man au, marvel au, fluff, action, angst, humor

warnings — violence

go to fic masterlist | main masterlist

Vernon swung over the busy street that led towards Central Park, disgruntled by the surprise subunit. Nova flew alongside him, just a few feet before him—he could probably fly a lot faster, but Vernon knew he was flying this close to him purposefully, letting him know that Nova would always be faster than Spider-Man.

God, the little things about this kid irritated him even more than the big stuff.

He spotted Shocker through the trees, the lining of his suit glinting like gold in the afternoon sunlight. The villain raised his gauntlets and slammed them into the ground with a yell, making it vibrate with the frequency of his sonic blasts. Vernon flipped in mid-air, perching on the branch of a tree out of his blast radius.

“So what’s the sitch?” Yangyang asked, hovering next to him, and Vernon cast a glance around. Terrorizing civilians seemed like a bit of a stretch since there weren’t really many civilians around, and those that were had managed to find a place that was protected from the blasts. The cops had been driven back by the blasts, and the few shots they took were easily deflected by the energy discharges.

The ground shook with every hit, but since Shocker was on hard-packed earth instead of concrete, most of the force was absorbed. The terrain was cracked in places, deep trenches left in the dry ground from the explosions. The few people in the area had been driven up the bridge, but Vernon didn’t like their chances—Shocker might not have intended to hurt them, but he was getting dangerously close. One misdirected blast was all it would take to topple the side holding up the bridge.

“Stay out of range of the vibro-shock gauntlets,” Vernon told him. It wasn’t the kind of crime that required their immediate, undivided attention, since Shocker didn’t seem to be doing any real damage, but who knew how long that mood would last? “They might look easy to dodge, but they’re actually pretty deadly and have a large discharge radius, so steer clear of them. Try to stay off the ground.”

“And the takedown?” Even though he wasn’t happy about being stuck with Nova on this mission, Vernon was still pleased to see that at least the guy was listening to him.

“I’ll web him up, hang him upside down from a tree or something,” Vernon replied. “You should fly up there first, distract him so I can get up close.”

“Why do that when I can just take him out with one blast?” Nova muttered, and Vernon shot him a dark look. “But I don’t want to get back to school that early, so we’ll do it your way. This guy sure looks like he could use some fun.”

Vernon pursed his lips, not feeling so sure. He wanted to say that it wasn’t like Shocker to behave so erratically, but that would probably just make him sound like an idiot—how was anyone supposed to know what normal behavior was for a criminal?

“Go,” he breathed, and Nova shot from his side like a rocket—a human rocket, as he often liked to describe himself. He was on Shocker in a second, zipping around him like an annoying, oversized fly, getting all up in his personal space and confusing him. Shocker’s face was covered, hiding his expressions, but from the rigid lines of his body Vernon could tell the guy was getting pissed. He took his chance, diving off the branch and executing a low swing worthy of Tarzan, kicking Shocker in the chest with both feet and sending him flying into a tree behind, which cracked and splintered under the blunt force.

“Oh, Herman, Herman,” he tutted, as Shocker righted himself with an angered yell. Vernon moved with the speed and grace of a—well, a spider, dodging a powerful blast from his gauntlets by executing a perfect helical flip. “Haven’t you learned the hard way that fighting back is only going to make it hurt worse?”

“Spider-Man!” Shocker yelled, booting up his gauntlets, which glowed like lamplights from the charge.

“Yes, of course, who else would it be?” he asked, webbing the overhead branches and pulling himself up to avoid the incoming blasts. “Did you really think I was going to leave you here all by yourself?”

“If you’re so smart, you should have known to stay out of my way!” Shocker said, sending a concentrated blast his way. Vernon rolled out of the way, coming up in a crouch.

“I didn’t say I was smart, you did,” he said, flipping back onto his feet. “What’s gotten into you, Herman? I didn’t take you to be the terrorizing type.” He avoided another blast by leaning far right. “Why are you doing this? For funsies?”

He had succeeded in drawing Shocker away from the bridge, but the clearing was too small for Shocker’s blast radius. Vernon couldn’t contain him within the safe zone for long. “Nova!” he yelled. “Get the civilians out of the way! I’ll handle this guy.”

Nova jerked his head into a nod, flying towards the bridge to evacuate the trapped people. Vernon’s spider sense tingled, but he was too late to react—a blast caught him in the chest, sending him flying into the underbrush. He coughed out the air in his lungs, and pushed himself to his feet. Ow, ow, ow.

“You should know better,” Shocker said. His gauntlets glowed again, and Vernon’s eyes widened under the mask as he raised them both towards him, the light as blinding as direct headlights.

Nova swooped in out of the air, snatching Shocker up like a bird snatching up a worm (or maybe that was a bad analogy).

“Boring!” Nova yelled, carrying Shocker higher up in the air, preparing for a good old drop to let gravity do the rest of the work. Shocker twisted, jamming his fists towards the boy’s chest and sending a shockwave through him. Nova cried out in surprise, going flying through the air in the opposite direction and ending up dropping Shocker, who righted himself by aiming a blast towards the ground at the right angle, giving himself enough of a boost to be able to land on his feet.

Not too helpful, though, because before he had a chance to celebrate the little victory, Spider-Man was upon him, webbing his fists to his chests in a cross like an empty-handed mummy, if wearing highly enhanced vibro-shock gauntlets counted as being empty-handed. Vernon webbed the nearest tree trunk, pulling himself and the incapacitated Shocker along with him by jerking at his webstrings.

“It isn’t like you to behave this way,” he said, pulling himself up to a branch. He webbed Shocker’s body, turning him in the air with the torsion of each pull, until he had him all wrapped up like a caterpillar like a cocoon, leaving only his head out. Vernon lowered himself upside-down to face the man, cocking his head inquisitively. “Aw, come on, you can tell me. I can keep a secret.”

“You’re blind, Spider-Man,” Shocker spat.

Nova reappeared next to him, scowling under the mask. “Come on, web-head,” he said. “Leave the information-extraction to the experts. Bad guys never tattle.”

“Oh, you don’t know about us,” Vernon said, shaking his head. “We go way back.” He leaned closer to Shocker. “Don’t we, Herman?” He chuckled. “Remember the first time I stopped you from robbing a bank? Good times, good times.”

Instead of answering, Shocker thrashed around in the web trap, which was pointless, of course. Vernon sighed, dropping to the ground upright, and looked up at the dangling man who was now writhing like fish bait on a hook.

“Guess you’re not in the mood to talk,” he said, keeping the note of disappointment in his voice. “Maybe the Big House will fix that for you.”

“The Big House?” Nova scoffed. “This guy barely belongs in a regular prison. How long did the fight take? Ten minutes?” He shook his head. “Are all your villains this lame?”

Vernon shot him a look that he obviously couldn’t see through his mask. “You haven’t seen a single good one yet,” he said. “My villains are dangerous.”

“Oh, yeah?” Nova barked out a laugh. “Like that one guy with a huge hot glue gun? What was his name, Trapman?”

“Trapster.”

Nova snorted. “Yeah. Real dangerous.”

Vernon rolled his eyes. “I’d like to see you handle being stuck to a wall with the same disgusting gunk that’s leaked down your pants,” he said. “It’s not always so much about danger as it is about being able to handle the grossness.”

Nova grinned, obviously not believing him. “Whatever you say.”

“I’m not messing around,” he said seriously. “Can you imagine doing a stakeout mission in the sewer, waiting for a truck-sized human-lizard hybrid to come out? Not everyone has that kind of patience and tolerance.”

“Yeah, because they don’t need to have it,” Nova said. “My villains aren’t geckos.”

Vernon gave up, waiting for the authorities to arrive and pick Shocker up instead of gracing him with an answer. Shocker had gone limp, but remained silent as stone. Vernon regarded him contemplatively, still unconvinced by the tough intimidation act.

Something was definitely up.

At the end of the team’s usual briefing in the Helicarrier that day, Vernon pulled Nick Fury aside. “Uh, Agent Fury, sir?” he asked in a low voice, casting a precarious glance at his teammates, who were in the middle of leaving. Yeji, last in the line, looked back at him questioningly, but he shook his head minutely. She raised an eyebrow, but left. “Can I ask you something?”

“Go ahead,” the agent said, in the process of shutting down the holographic display system. He looked up when Vernon didn’t answer. “What is it, Spider-Man?”

“This might sound like a stupid question,” he started hesitantly, “but do you know if Norman Osborn is secure?”

Fury gave him a searching look, movements slowing somewhat as he took in the question. “Of course,” he said. “Norman Osborn is nice and locked-up in the Raft.”

“And he hasn’t shown any…Goblin-y tendencies?”

Fury’s curious look intensified. “Not so far, no,” he said. “Look, kid, I’m only telling you this because you put him in there and deserve to know what’s happened to him, but I can’t release any sensitive details about his capture. Just enough that you can sleep tight at night knowing he isn’t breaking out anytime soon.”

“Thanks,” Vernon said half-heartedly. “But I just wanted to know if the OZ levels in his blood were—normal.”

“That’s what his scheduled test runs say,” he replied. “Parker, you don’t need to worry about him anymore. If there are any abnormalities, S.H.I.E.L.D. will take care of them. Rest easy.”

“And if he gets out?”

“Long shot.” Fury leaned against the table, frowning at him. “Kid, is there something you want to tell me?”

Vernon hesitated, thinking back to the Shocker incident. Herman Schultz’s behavior showed all the symptoms of a man under threat from a higher authority, and the last time he’d seen that happen was under Norman Osborn. Any irregularities were to be reported, since the city had only come back to normal recently after repeated attacks from multiple supervillains, but Vernon wasn’t sure if deviant behavior from a low-level criminal counted.

Plus, Fury had only just begun to hand him bigger responsibilities, and he didn’t want to destroy all that buildup by giving him a false lead as a result of Goblin-induced paranoia.

“Nope, just wondering,” he replied, pressing his lips into what he hoped was a believable smile. “You know, one of those things.”

The man gave him an unconvinced look, but let it go. Vernon turned back and exited the briefing room as casually as he could. The doors slid shut behind him as he stepped into the hallway, plunging him in a dimmed lighting. He exhaled, mind buzzing with thoughts.

“Norman Osborn, huh?”

Vernon turned, finding Felix leaning against the wall next to the door. He straightened as Vernon faced him. “Don’t tell me you honestly expected him to believe you,” he said, talking about Fury. “No person asks about their supervillains unless they’re worried about a comeback. What did you see?”

Vernon sighed, realizing there was no point in trying to hide his doubts from Felix. “Nothing substantial,” he answered, starting to walk down the corridor. Felix followed him. “Just some everyday robber acting out.”

“That Shocker guy you and Nova turned in today?” Felix asked, and Vernon nodded. “Why?”

“Scaring civilians for no reason…it’s just not like him,” Vernon said. “He does what he does for money, not just to strike fear into people’s hearts. Well, I guess that’s an added bonus at times,” he added, “but doing that without making money along the way doesn’t seem like something he would do.”

“So you think he was hired to take you out.”

“Not exactly…” Vernon turned the mask over in his hands, thinking. It was hard to put into words, but the sense of oncoming danger was there, like a very general, very muted version of his spider sense. The problem was, he didn’t know how to explain that to Felix. Not everyone understood how it worked. “He seemed kind of reluctant to kill me, too.”

Felix gave him an amused look. “You’re upset because a villain gave you the brush-off?”

“Very funny,” he said, but his heart wasn’t in it. “I kept thinking that was being threatened or something. Now, what for, I couldn’t say, but—”

“I get it. It’s like intuition,” Felix said, and Vernon nodded. “What does that have to do with Norman Osborn?”

“If you’ve seen him in his Goblin form, you’ve probably noticed that he can be very threatening,” he said. “But he couldn’t be behind this, because he’s in a maximum-security prison with zero contact with the outside world.”

“But you think he is.”

“I can’t think of anyone else who’d want to do this, since he’s been the only one who’s ever operated in this particular way. But I guess there’s no shortage of people who want to kill me.”

“So he’s tried to get small-time criminals to kill Spider-Man before,” Felix said. “Doesn’t sound to me like a good judge of strength.”

“To kill Vernon Parker, actually,” Vernon corrected. “He kind of…knows my identity.”

Felix frowned. “He unmasked you?”

Vernon stopped close to the end of the corridor, glancing back to see if there was anyone around, but the place was empty. Fury had probably taken a left. “Do you know how I became Spider-Man?” he asked Felix.

“Didn’t you get bitten by a radioactive spider?”

“It was an Oscorp experiment, bonding OZ to spider DNA,” Vernon said. “One of the test spiders escaped while I was touring the facility with my class, and bit me. The enhanced spider DNA bonded with mine, giving me powers. Except here’s the thing—Norman Osborn knew.”

“He did?”

“Him, and a couple of other scientists working on the OZ formula,” he said. “Figured it out by taking a sample of my blood while I was on watch in the hospital. He took the same formula and bonded it to his own DNA to enhance himself, but it messed with his brain.” Vernon studied a tiny web in the corner of the ceiling. Spiders, even up here in a S.H.I.E.L.D. Helicarrier hundreds of feet in the air. “He told me all of this just moments before accidentally killing Harry. Turned himself in when he realized what he had done.”

“Oh.” There was a short, awkward pause. Felix came to stand beside him, following his gaze up to the tiny spiderweb in the corner. “I’m sorry.”

Vernon shook his head, turning away from the web. “It wasn’t your fault.”

They stood in silence for a few moments before Felix spoke up again. “Tell you what,” he said, making Vernon raise his eyebrows. “I’ll ask Yeji to look up both Shocker and that Rhino guy in the S.H.I.E.L.D. database. We’ll go over his record later, see if he has anything to do with Norman Osborn. If something comes up, we’ll report it to Fury. You don’t have that spider intuition for nothing.”

Vernon cracked a smile. “You mean my spider sense.”

“Same difference.” Felix smiled back, but it dropped from his face just as quickly. “Hey, I almost forgot to ask—did you tell that Joshua guy who you are?”

Vernon winced, sheepishly massaging the back of his neck. “Maybe,” he said, then added hastily, “But I was going to tell you soon.”

“Never mind that,” Felix muttered. “He figured out our identities already.”

“He told you that?” he asked, trying his hardest to suppress a smile.

“I’m pretty sure there’s some kind of protocol about it,” Felix said, “but I’m not sure. Plus, it’s one of those things you gotta deal with yourself, you know? I’m not great with the whole secret identity thing because Iceman is a public figure, but not that I’m some kind of undercover agent—” He shivered, which was a bit ironic, because Iceman and all. “You know being out could get me killed, right?”

“Because of your supervillains?”

“No, because mutant-haters.” He gave Vernon a meaningful look. “Like that girl Liz Allan in History.”

“Nah, that one’s all bark no bite,” Vernon said. “Besides, Josh isn’t going to tell anybody. He kept my Spider-Man secret for a year and still going strong.”

Felix looked at him curiously. “You trust him that much?”

“I’ve known him for years,” the brunet answered confidently. “I’d trust him with my life.”

“Well, if that’s what you think,” Felix said, “then that’s good enough for me.”

#kwritersworldnet #caratwritersclub #svtcreations #seventeen #svt #vernon #svt scenarios #spiderman #seventeen fluff #seventeen angst #vernon fluff #vernon angst #seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #seventeen fanfic #vernon imagines #vernon scenarios #vernon fanfic #q

[notapaladin]

you just gotta let it go (redux)

What makes a sickfic better? More snarky bitching about being sick, of course! Poor, poor Acatl.

Also on AO3.

Original version here

-

The second day of an illness was the worst.

Granted, the first day had been no garden of roses either. Acatl had gone home at the end of his long working day (two vigils, several hours’ worth of investigations into a nasty murder near the markets, endless accounts to square away) to a hastily-put-together dinner and the comfort of his own mat, but he’d barely lain down for an hour before his guts had begun to cramp and the first swelling of nausea had begun to travel up his throat. He’d thought—hoped—that it would pass. He’d always had a reasonably strong constitution, after all. Perhaps it was merely the heat.

And then he’d started vomiting. Poison had been his first thought, and he’d wiped his mouth and tried to stagger to the door only to faint after a single step. Praise the gods for Ichtaca; the man had heard him groaning as he passed and had leapt into action, sending runners for a healing priest before he could even think about protesting. Not that he’d been doing much thinking by then, honestly—whatever he’d eaten had come back for revenge, and he’d been far too busy trying not to completely disgrace himself.

Or at least trying not to faint. Fatigue had dragged at every limb, threatening to pull him under entirely; he’d collapsed on the floor next to the basin Ichtaca had fetched for him, unable to rise even to his knees as bone-breaking chills had shuddered through him. He’d barely even had the strength to continue throwing up, though his stomach had left him little choice. Dull, twisting pain wormed its way through his guts, and each blink had lasted an eternity. He been so exhausted that he hadn’t wanted to open his eyes again. He might not have if fear hadn’t compelled him, if a cold spike of terror hadn’t whispered if you close your eyes you’ll never open them again, and then where will you be? Do you want so badly for Teomitl to weep for you when you leave him behind?

He’d thought of Teomitl’s smile, Teomitl’s warm words and steady hands, and forced himself to remain conscious. Ichtaca stayed by his side and that helped, but when the man had helped him wipe his mouth—and gods, how humiliating had that been—he’d been sick all over again at the question that hissed through his mind like an arrow. Am I going to die?

He served Mictlantecuhtli with all his heart, but he did not want to meet Him yet. Not with so much left unsaid. The thought that it might be entirely beyond his control had been terrifying; in a brief burst of energy he’d thought of asking Ichtaca to summon Teomitl, but fortunately he’d thrown up again before he could voice it, and that had erased such rank stupidity from his thoughts. It would only make things worse if he survived.

He’d still been retching when the priest of Patecatl had arrived.

At least it wasn’t poison, he’d thought bitterly when he’d gotten the diagnosis. But the sort of illness you got from food that had gone off was downright humiliating, and to make matters worse the only cure was rest and plain meals. Plain. No chili. No other spices. Barely even any salt. If he’d been able to contemplate food without feeling nauseous again, he would have been miserable; as it was, he was waking only to drink water and drag himself to the chamber pot.

Because apparently, even when whatever had been in his guts was now quite comprehensively out of them, it had left its mark behind. He was exhausted. Even his experience with the plague hadn’t left him feeling quite this flattened; each limb felt like the Great Temple had come down on top of it, and he could barely rouse himself from his mat. At least he wasn’t afraid of sleeping anymore. When he spoke, he slurred his words like a base drunkard.

And of course he was forced to speak, because he had visitors.

He was awoken shortly after dawn by the arrival of not one but two more priests of Patecatl. Their cloaks marked them as part of the upper echelons of their temple’s hierarchy, and so he managed not to actually snap at them when they entered. It felt like an achievement just to speak coherently. “Thank you, but I’m feeling much better—”

The older one gave him a stare so full of judgement that he shut his mouth with a pang; it reminded him too much of Ceyaxochitl. “We have to monitor your condition, Acatl-tzin. You are our High Priest for the Dead.”

There were times he truly took pride in being High Priest for the Dead at all hours, whether at a feast or standing by the side of a pyre. This was not one of them. I don’t stop being High Priest for the Dead, no matter how sick I am. He made a face, but grudgingly sat up a little straighter. Or how much I’d rather be left alone.

At least submitting himself to a full examination didn’t require him to do much except be manhandled, and the healing priests were coolly professional and not inclined to make small talk. It still tired him out, and when the younger priest—Cuetzpalli, apparently—began casting a spell to strengthen his stomach, he actually found himself dozing off. The cut-grass smell of Patecatl’s magic was remarkably soothing when you were more than semi-conscious for it.

“Acatl-tzin?”

He blinked awake. Cuetzpalli had stopped chanting and was eyeing him with mild concern as he offered a hand to help him sit up again. He ignored it; he was not so far gone that he couldn’t manage that, even if the motion made his muscles ache. “My apologies. What’s the verdict?”

Cuetzpalli didn’t seem fazed by his curtness. No doubt he’d seen much worse, though he was barely a few years older than Teomitl; healing priests saw people at their very lowest, after all, and an irritated High Priest probably wasn’t even worth noting. “No poison nor magic that we can detect. Your dinner seems to have simply...disagreed with you. You’ll feel...ah, reasonably terrible for a week or so, but you are in no danger.” His face twisted in singularly unhelpful sympathy.

Acatl’s fists clenched in his lap. A week? Duality, I cannot afford to be laid low for that long! Horrible visions of his temple in disarray and the boundaries crumbling like old paper flickered through his mind, and he fought a grimace. No. It would be fine. He would return to his duties tomorrow, suffer through bland food until his guts settled, and everything would be fine. “Hrm.”

“You’ll be alright, young man.” The older priest—Necalli—didn’t smile, but his eyes softened slightly as he looked him over. “Don’t push yourself too hard.”

He couldn’t make any promises, but he was spared from having to lie; their visit apparently being over, Cuetzpalli was packing up their supplies. Soon they had both left, bowing very politely, and he’d collapsed on his mat again. Some vague twinge in his belly suggested he should attempt food, but even fetching one of the bland flatbreads Ichtaca had left for him seemed like a monumental effort. No, he would just lay here for now until he felt...well, not better, but at least more alert. The angle of the sunlight shifted through his one window, and he watched it blankly.

He slept. He woke, found the ache in his stomach had progressed to actual pangs of hunger, and choked down a few mouthfuls of dry flatbread and a cup of water before his gorge rose in protest and he had to set the rest aside. His stomach had been emptier than this for longer. He’d be alright.

He slept again. Time ceased to have meaning. There was only the sunlight moving across his floor, the humid air laying on his skin like a blanket. He lay like a lizard on his back, gently baking in the heat.

And then the entry curtain jingled. “Acatl?”

Oh, gods. Mihmatini’s voice. Groaning, he heaved himself upright, muscles protesting. “Ngghhh...” At some point he’d closed his eyes, and once again it seemed to take real effort to keep them open. Duality, he hoped the healing priests had been right and it was only an ill-chosen meal, and not something more serious. Last night’s panic had faded, but it was far too easy to bring to mind just how very inevitable—how very immediate—his death had felt. Lord Death, he prayed, do not take me into Your arms yet.

She sounded concerned. He was sick of concern. “We brought soup.”

...We…? The thoughts floating through his head were slow to arrange themselves into a semblance of order, but finally he realized that she wasn’t alone and managed to wedge his eyes open properly. There was Mihmatini, brow furrowed, holding a clay jug in both hands. And beside her, face twisted in worry, was Teomitl. “...Oh.” Oh, no. Not you. He felt vaguely nauseous again, and not just from the effort of sitting up.

She didn’t wait for him to invite her in, or even to rise; he watched, still feeling three steps behind reality, as she set the jug down on his table and went looking for spoons. There was a degree of bustling involved that made him dizzy to think about. “I really can’t believe I had to hear from Ichtaca that you were ill, Acatl, really—do you know how worried I’ve been? Food poisoning is nothing to dismiss!”

“It’s passed.” It had. Mostly. He had decided against making any sudden movements.

“Nobody gets over food poisoning that fast.” That was Teomitl, leaning in the doorway and frowning down at him. “You need to take better care of yourself.”

He frowned back, even as some part of his heart felt unaccountably warmed; Teomitl’s concern might be touching, but by the Duality it wasn’t as though he’d tried to get sick. Besides, he was a grown man. He didn’t need to be fussed over, especially not when it might make him start hoping. “...I take care of myself just fine.”

Teomitl turned his face away, glowering at the wall as though it had insulted his honor. Acatl knew by the face he made that he was probably chewing on the inside of his lip plug again; he wondered, not for the first time, if Teomitl had ever realized he only did that when he was agitated. He hoped he didn’t. It was oddly endearing, and he’d miss the sight. “What did the healing priests say?”

He grimaced at the reminder. “Very plain fare. And sleep.”

Mihmatini uncovered the jug, and the odor of plain, hot, and—suddenly most important for his stomach, which growled loudly enough that he blushed—salty turkey broth met his nostrils. “Do you think you could keep this down?”

For his sister, he’d try. Slowly, he nodded. “...Thank you.”

He hadn’t expected them to linger, but—evidently realizing that he absolutely wouldn’t be able to finish all of the soup by himself—they took their own seats at his table. It was pleasant not to eat alone in his own house for once. Teomitl was uncharacteristically quiet and kept glancing at Acatl out of the corner of his eye; before he thought of commenting on it, Mihmatini spoke up. “How is it?”

He looked down at his bowl and realized with a start that he’d nearly finished it. Each lift of the spoon to his mouth had been like trying to move a boulder, but he’d clearly been hungrier than he thought. He briefly had to struggle to remember how to speak; even the muscles in his tongue felt tired. A blink lasted longer than he liked. “...It’s good. Did you make it?”

Mihmatini snorted, shaking her head. “From the palace kitchens. I’m not this good a cook.”

Teomitl huffed, “You’re a wonderful cook.”

She rolled her eyes at him. “And you are a shameless flatterer.”

“I am being perfectly truthful—tell her, Acatl!”

Acatl blinked again, discreetly pinching himself to stay awake. Passing out in his soup bowl wouldn’t convince his family he was hale. True, Mihmatini was a skilled cook—but it was equally true that no priest of Patecatl would prescribe her food for him. It had entirely too much flavor, and the way she made soup would put meat back on the bones of a corpse. “...He’s right. Unfortunately, I’m afraid I’m in no state to appreciate it at the moment.”

She looked supremely unimpressed. He could actually see the moment she swallowed a sharp retort and picked up her spoon again. “I can see that. You look awful.”

He had to admit she had a point; he felt awful. Eating had helped briefly, but as soon as it settled in his stomach he had to battle another spike of nausea. If he stopped leaning on the table, he had a feeling he’d fall over. “Thanks.”

Mihmatini sighed, pushing her now-empty bowl away. “I wish I could stay, but I have to get back to the Duality House.”

“Guardian lessons?”

She made a face. Acatl couldn’t blame her; she hadn’t told him much of what her unexpected ascension to Guardianship had entailed, but what little she’d let slip suggested it was unpleasant. If nothing else, she was having to learn in weeks what took most women years. He did not envy her. “Guardian lessons.”

Teomitl reached over and squeezed her hand. “I’ll see you later.”

Her eyes narrowed as she looked at him, and for a moment Acatl was concerned. Had they had a fight at some point? But then she smiled, warm as always. “You’d better. Remember what we were talking about earlier.”

Teomitl swallowed hard and nodded. “Mm.”

And then she rose gracefully, favoring Acatl with that same narrow-eyed assessing look. “And as for you, you’d better take it easy. Ichtaca told us you collapsed a few times last night.”

It wasn’t like he’d made a habit out of it. Besides, the floor had been comfortable even with that nagging, irrational concern that he might fail to wake up. On a full stomach and with something approximating sleep under his belt, that fear felt ridiculous now. He glared back at her. “I’m not that sick. I’ve no intention of fainting on anyone.”

“Don’t worry.” Teomitl smiled, and the brief flash of radiant warmth made Acatl’s face heat. “I won’t let you.”

She sniffed, unswayed. “Hm. I’ll be back later to check on you.”

And then Mihmatini left, and they were alone. Acatl found, suddenly, that he couldn’t quite manage to look Teomitl in the face. The gods knew Teomitl had seen him injured before—had taken care of him, even, and Acatl knew he’d never forget confident hands bandaging his wounds or strong arms helping him to safety—but battle wounds were an acceptable form of weakness, one that struck down even the greatest warriors. It was entirely different to be ill and run-down in front of Teomitl, who valued strength so highly; a man who thought limits were for the weak surely couldn’t still respect him when he could barely muster the energy to stand. In a moment. In a moment I’ll get up and clear the table. I don’t need a—a nursemaid, Tlaloc’s lightning strike me. He just needed to brace himself and move slowly.

Teomitl beat him to it. He was already on his feet and clearing away the remnants of their meal when Acatl set a hand on the table to heave himself up; when he caught sight of the movement, he shot him a savage glare. “Stay still. I’ll handle it.”

He could force himself to his feet; he’d worked in worse conditions and through much greater pain. Nothing would ever be as bad as the plague had been. But somehow, it didn’t really seem worth it to argue. So he stayed where he was and prayed for patience, staring at the knotted pine grain of the table. It needed a wash. “...So you’re to keep me company, then?”

Teomitl turned to look over his shoulder at him, eyes dark and serious. “Someone should.”

He took a slow breath. Even through his exhaustion, the reminder of his state—that Teomitl looked at him and thought he shouldn’t even be left alone—stung bitterly. Even though he could be weak, came the treacherous thought. Even though Teomitl would let him. Would help him lay down, put his arms around him...no. He shook his head firmly, banishing those thoughts before they could make him remember what had come to him in the dead of last night’s pain. It was still hopeless, and he would not plead his way into Teomitl’s heart. “I’m not an invalid, you know.”

“I know you aren’t.” And then Teomitl smiled, teasingly innocent, and Acatl’s heart skipped a beat even as he continued, “But isn’t it the job of the student to tend to his master’s needs?”

His eyes narrowed. Irritation was starting to revitalize him; in some small part of his mind, he suspected this was Teomitl’s plan. “...And you aren’t my student anymore.” He hasn’t been since...the courtyard? No, before that. It just took me too long to see it. He is my friend, my brother-in-law, and one day he’ll be my Revered Speaker. But he’s not my student, and he shouldn’t have to take care of me even if he was.

The table clean, Teomitl sat down by him within arm’s reach but not touching. Acatl found himself glad for that; he wasn’t sure if he was alert enough not to give in to the absurd urge to lean against him. His former student’s shoulders looked appealingly solid. “And we’re all glad for that. But that doesn’t change the fact that you could use some company, if only for a distraction. I’m good at that.” A smile still tugged at the corners of his lips, warm eyes looking Acatl over. “Please?”

Oh, no. Not the please. It struck him harder than a physical blow, and he had to look away. Duality preserve him, he’d been right. Teomitl would let him be weak. And he’d thought his feelings would fade? That he’d be able to bury them forever? Gods, he was such a fool. It was a terrible time to be proven wrong. I should be stronger than this. “...I won’t...” He yawned, suddenly almost too tired to make his tongue work. The soup had only been a temporary boost after all. “I’m sorry. I won’t be a very good host.”

“...That’s alright.” Teomitl was gazing at him with fond exasperation, and he couldn’t bear it. “Rest, Acatl. I’ll be here when you wake.”

He couldn’t let that pass without comment, no matter how much that same small, treacherous part of him was warmed by the thought of companionship. “You have a job. Your own duties...”

Now Teomitl did reach over, putting a hand gently on his shoulder. It warmed him to his bones. “Over for the day. Lay down.”

He couldn’t do anything but obey. Even the simple act of sitting up and eating had wrung him out like a damp rag; he could have passed out on a bed of obsidian shards. His thin mat was a miracle in comparison, and he managed to keep his eyes open just long enough to watch as Teomitl settled down on his haunches and swept him with a slow, considering look. The thought that slid through his mind like a snake—gods, you could kiss me if you wanted—still wasn’t a match for the tides of dreamless sleep pulling him under.

When he opened his eyes again, the first thing he saw was Teomitl’s back. It was, he thought idly, a very nice back; Teomitl had shed his cloak for the sake of the heat, and so Acatl had an excellent view of the line of his waist and the curve of his spine. There were no scars upon it, for he would never be one to willingly turn his back on a foe. The knowledge lifted his heart with a kind of soft pride. My fearless man. You who will lead Tenochtitlan to glory. I cannot wait to see what kind of Emperor you’ll make.

Then Teomitl stretched, back arching, and the affection curling gently through him sparked into something hotter and darker. Gods, he’d almost forgotten. He could go days now without thinking about the warmth of Teomitl’s voice or the strength of his hands, but here he was being viscerally reminded that they couldn’t be ignored forever. That the feelings which had sustained him through many long nights wouldn’t melt with the dawn. That not even what he’d thought with sharp terror would be his actual death could successfully smother them. Duality curse me.

He must have made a noise, because Teomitl turned to look at him. “Acatl? Ah, you’re awake. Do you need anything?”

His mouth had gone dry at some point. Swallowing didn’t help. “...Water.” If nothing else, it would be cold. He could use the cold.

Teomitl rose to fetch water, and he busied himself with trying to sit up. It took a few attempts as his heavy limbs fought his control, but by the time Teomitl returned he’d managed the disgustingly difficult task of rolling over. Teomitl’s hand between his shoulderblades steadied him as he heaved himself up the rest of the way, and for a long moment he drank in silence. His stomach felt better, but his heart didn’t.

It wasn’t until Teomitl took his hand away and sat down next to him that he found words. “I’m surprised you’re still here.”

Teomitl jerked away, glaring at him; for all that he’d only spoken the truth, Acatl still felt himself flush as he snapped, “Did you think I would leave you alone?!”

“It must be late.” It was. The afternoon sun had turned dim and gold, sinking into Teomitl’s skin and hair. Sunset couldn’t be far behind, and he would be well enough to properly offer blood to the gods again. There was no need for Teomitl to watch over him like a mother jaguar with cubs. But he wants to, because he cares about you, whispered his mind, and he took another sip of water to cool the heat of his skin.

“I don’t care.” Duality, and he growled like a jaguar, too. Though he huffily turned his face away, Acatl saw his hand twitch; it was all the warning he got before it came down to rest atop his own free one. “You stayed with me when I was ill, and that was contagious. Do you think I wouldn’t do the same for you?”

He couldn’t think. Teomitl’s hand was on his, callused and warm, and he was fairly sure all sensation in his body had been rerouted to that single point of contact. He was surprised he hadn’t dropped the cup, and managed to set it down before he could. “I...uh.” He was unconscious, deep in his delirium. I didn’t think he’d remember. Gods, I was so afraid he’d never even wake. But he did...and…

It seemed to take an eternity for him to dredge up a full sentence from the mire of his thoughts. “You don’t...have to...”

Teomitl’s voice held nothing but certainty. He might as well have been making a royal proclamation. “Yes. I do.”

“...Oh.” It seemed to be all he could say. There was more locked behind his teeth—you are the best of men, I don’t deserve you, you’re a reckless fool sometimes but that’s alright because you still hold my whole heart safe in your hands—but he didn’t dare open his mouth and let it fly out. If he started down that road, he’d never stop. And Lord Death had not seen fit to take him into His embrace last night, so a sudden and fatal relapse wouldn’t save him either.

For a long while, Teomitl was silent. Though he sat as still as a statue, the fingers covering Acatl’s own twitched as though he wanted to curl them around his hand. Finally, still without looking at him, he spoke. “Do you have any idea how I felt when I learned how sick you were?”

“I was not that sick—” he began.

Teomitl didn’t let him finish. “Yes. You were. Ichtaca was shaking when he told us you were finally keeping down liquids.”

He dropped his gaze to his lap. Mired as he’d been in his own terror, Ichtaca had felt like a rock beside him. He’d had no idea the man had been frightened too. “...Oh.”

“Oh,” Teomitl mimicked, a spark of nastiness in his voice that faded almost instantly to that tight, flat restraint. “You terrified us, Acatl. You terrified me.”

Storm Lord’s lightning blast him. He couldn’t even attempt a reassuring smile, for Teomitl’s words struck him to the core. Still, he mustered up the energy somewhere to make an effort. “I’ve felt worse than this and lived. You needn’t have worried.”

Teomitl swiveled around to glare at him, eyes hot and suspiciously bright. “Don’t say that! Don’t you know how important you are to me?”

“Ngkh.” He knew he was blushing again, but he couldn’t have torn his eyes from Teomitl’s face if his life had depended on it. It was one thing to be pretty sure Teomitl cared about him, but another thing entirely to hear it confirmed. “I...” I am High Priest for the Dead. His teacher. His friend. That’s all he means. “But...”

“No buts.” Teomitl shook his head, squeezing his hand tightly. There was a terrible tremor in his voice. “You have to take care of yourself, Acatl. Understand? I don’t...I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you. I can’t lose you.”

His heart stuttered in his chest, and for a dizzying moment he thought he was going to faint again. “I know how you feel.”

“..Do you?” The bite of skepticism couldn’t quite hide that moment of hopeful hesitation.

He inhaled. “...Last night...” He couldn’t say it. He couldn’t. But Teomitl wasn’t saying anything; he was giving him the space to find his words. That made the difference, in the end. “Last night...I thought I was going to die.” He still wondered idly at the possibility, but it no longer filled him with heart-clenching fear. There was only one thing he would have regretted, after all. Now Teomitl was staring at him in horror, but he made himself press on. “And I thought of you.”

Teomitl’s eyes were wide, his fingers trembling. Now Acatl knew the expression on his face, that stunned sort of hope that didn’t quite dare to step into the sunlight yet. “Me?”

He nodded. Yes, you. Always you. “I thought—if I died here, I would never get to tell you that I—” But courage failed him, and he swallowed with a dry click.

Teomitl was still staring at him. Unfortunately, this didn’t let him off the hook. “That you what?”

He squeezed his eyes shut. It was a coward’s move, but then he had always been one, hadn’t he? Or else it wouldn’t have taken the fear of death to force the words out. “I love you,” he blurted out, and when Teomitl didn’t immediately react in rage or disgust he added, “I wanted to be sure you knew.” Even if you don’t love me back in the same way. Even if you’re about to break my heart, I’m giving it to you to break.

He heard a slow, deep breath. A shaky whisper of “Acatl,” more shock than outrage.

And then Teomitl kissed him.

His mind went entirely blank. There was only the soft pressure of warm lips on his, slow and careful and gods, so gentle. He had no idea what he was doing, but Teomitl clearly did; he tilted his head just so, parted his lips just a fraction, and Acatl was lost. Gods, he thought dizzily, I love you so much. Teomitl slid strong arms around his waist, and for a moment he thought that hold was the only thing keeping him upright. He wondered if it was possible to swoon just from a single kiss. Well, he was still ill. It might be.

When Teomitl pulled away, his eyes were shining. “I can hardly believe...Duality, Acatl.” He gave a little shake of his head, as though to express the utter impossibility of their situation. A wry little disbelieving smile tugged at his lips. “I was halfway to convincing myself to give up.”

Acatl blinked at him as the words rearranged themselves into something that made sense. His brain clearly wasn’t up to its full capacity yet, because Teomitl couldn’t have said what he thought he said. “You what?!”

Now it was Teomitl’s turn to blush. “I have wanted you for—gods, for years. I knew it was hopeless, but when I thought I would lose you...”

Things clicked slowly into place in Acatl’s mind. Passing glances, lingering touches, a hitched breath. Years, he said. Years. “...Does Mihmatini know?” He remembered her hard-eyed stare, the way Teomitl had looked almost nervous at whatever she’d said, and ice gripped his heart again. He wouldn’t be the cause of strife between them, no matter how much Teomitl made his heart race. He wouldn’t do that to her.

Teomitl drew himself up, glaring at him. He was still flushed, but Acatl judged it more embarrassment than guilt. “She does. Do you think I’d go behind her back, especially after the last time?” He didn’t have to elaborate. Things between him and Mihmatini had been so frosty for a few weeks that she’d practically spat when mentioning his name. Acatl wasn’t sure how they’d reconciled, but he was starting to get a few, somewhat embarrassing, ideas.

The ice was starting to thaw. He took one deep breath, and then another. If she knows, then... “Then...what she mentioned, about you two having spoken earlier...”

“You know how she is. She...suggested I consider the possibility of mentioning my feelings a while ago.” Knowing Mihmatini, suggested was probably far too polite a word. Teomitl quirked up a smile and added, “But I wasn’t expecting you to beat me to it.”

He found it much easier to breathe when he knew he wasn’t ruining his sister’s marriage. “After last night...I had to let you know. In case fate saw fit to separate us. I didn’t want to die without telling you how I feel.”

Teomitl’s gaze had softened like melted wax, and it was just about as hot. “Maybe you should tell me again.”

His heart kicked within his chest. Feeling suddenly bold—he’d come this far, after all—he shot back, “Why don’t I just show you?” Even raising the possibility of what such a demonstration might entail made him blush all over again, but...well. Teomitl deserved to know the full truth of his feelings, and honesty had already brought him great rewards. I took vows of chastity, of celibacy. I would break them all for you if you asked. Gods, I would break them all if I thought you might ask.

For a moment, Teomitl simply stared at him—face flushed, lips slightly parted, eyes heated—and Acatl knew he was going to be kissed again. Knew it and welcomed it, lingering illness be damned. He would figure out a way to be kissed by Teomitl if he were dead.

And then he grinned teasingly and murmured, “Then you’d best focus your energies on getting well again, hadn’t you?” and Acatl had to stifle an urge to groan.

#obsidian and blood #acatl #teomitl #teocatl #mihmatini #paladin writes stuff

[holy-planet]

The Guide lazily looked out of the ferry and across the black-on-black wasteland, scattered with crumbling castles forgotten by time, sinking into the sea of tar alongside metallic fossils. Littering this organic gloom were queer things of colorful geometry and geometric color.

Occasionally rising from the too-natural grime of the land were artificial flora of forty-five degree angles and primary colors, all photosynthesizing moonbeams. Terrible lizards prowled methodically, animatronic dinosaurs of neon nature and calculated computations grazing polymer ferns and gnawing iron bones. Swooping overhead, plastic bats eat computer bugs, a flitter of light upon the invisible gridwork, echolocative phasers chirping and hooping across a charcoal-puke sky.

And Saints above, all plastic! Perfectly indiscriminate of the kingdoms of life, be it plant or animal, unified by cold plastic and primary colors. Red, yellow, blue- the colors of the hyperdigital anthropology which defied nature, the civilization of the Eno Polystate. An ever-rising architecture of math and madness, directly contrasting and mocking an ever-sinking landscape of muck and mire... a duel and duet of geometry and geography.

The ferry approached the flamboyant rainbow metropolis over the black horizon, and the nature of Eno was becoming increasingly clear. Always rising, always sinking...

From the ferry, the Student ogles. “But... I can’t understand, why is this world like this? Why so digital, so unnatural, so inhuman...?”

The Guide shakes his head, numb to the wonder. “Try to understand, this microplanet is not hospitable, not welcoming. Life cannot naturally form or thrive here, so an unnatural platform is necessary. All physical life outside of the cities are dominantly plastiforms and plastiphages, usually growing as a byproduct of some long-submerged machination, dying equations spewing life into the world like runoff pollution.

“Sometimes however, these things are seeded by artists and natural philosophers, and from these manmade seeds grow a simulation of sentience. Often enough, you’ll see abandoned projects and pieces returning to the earth to die. Beneath us are the unlimited fossils of such things, from microorganisms to ruined cityscapes. Eno is a people, a culture, a civilization- but before all else it is a planet, and one never meant to be domesticated. It consumes all things eventually, and so to survive is to rebel against nature. Do not be disturbed by what you may find here- ironically, the lack of humanity is a formidable show of human spirit.”

As the Euclidean supercity became evermore clear, one could make out a kaleidoscope of indescribable feats once thought impossible by any god. The growing sound of cosmic choirs filled the air parallel to the blinding light pollution. A once vantablack sky grew illuminated by both fires and phasers, a sprawling celebration of sensory overload and a parade of pretentious photon pornography. This place was a hub of the Known Universe’s extremes, countless eternities and forevers condensed down into seconds. Blink, and you miss everything. This place was Wonderland, and as far as its people were concerned, this place was everything.

“This is a parade for the masters of reality to sing and dance and make merry in the streets, blindingly bright and deafeningly loud. This is a theater, a performance of kings and worms. But you are no such king, are you? Indeed, you are a worm. Will you be trampled upon the manic stage, or fall into the depressed cracks to rot? Will it matter? You will not be forgotten, for you were never even known. Kings do not often look down at their boots, after all.

“All the same, know this: There is much to see and much to miss, but I implore you choose your battles wisely. Mind your wandering eye, look away if you must. The things you see here cannot easily be forgotten, your mental virginity cannot be reclaimed. Keep this in mind, or your mind will be lost.”

#fantasy #scifi #holy planet #Eno

[mazamba]

What Makes Us Unique

So I’ve seen a lot of different ideas regarding possible alien species and the different ways we could differ. I’ve seen posts stating that maybe they don’t have eyes or maybe they don’t like clothes, but I thought that was a bit... off.

No offence to those who wrote the posts, but I think the uniqueness of the human experience lays at a different angle. Light is simply too abundant for blindness to be a common trait and I imagine clothes would be a common thing for any travelling species, though I’m more likely to be wrong on that.

Honestly, I’m not even gonna be that surprised if the humanoid structure is relatively common. A high vantage point, one of the most energy-efficient modes of locomotion in the animal kingdom, and two free limbs for tool usage brings out enough advantages that a certain degree of convergent evolution can be predicted.

Unless, of course, more limbs are brought into the equation.

What I truly think will make us stand out is, as many others have proposed, our ability to pack-bond outside of our species. Even then, this may be learned by other species, or at least contractually regulated.

The one human trait that I think might be so rare as to be virtually non-existent, is our habit of keeping pets. Few alien species, I imagine, would have evolved under the specific challenges that led us to befriend, tame, and domesticate one of our biggest predators.

This ability of ours to bond with dogs, opened the gate for us to see other animals as potential friends. Dogs are understandable, they’re good hunting buddies after all. Cats are great for pest control. Sheep, cows, pigs, chickens, and goats are all delicious.

But then there’s snakes, goldfish, canaries, slugs, caterpillars, sugar gliders, koalas, loris, guinea pigs, macaws, cacti, worms, snails, rats, frogs, hamsters, lizards, newts, mice, ferns, and so many other species that we may choose to keep with us, yet their companionship offers no practical purpose.

Pet-keeping isn’t entirely unheard of in the rest of the animal kingdom, but in most cases it’s more of a matter of symbiosis. Baboons have been known to kidnap puppies to raise as watchdogs, some species of monkeys have been observed riding deer, owls keep blind snakes to eat mites in their nests, and some species of tarantula keep tiny frogs to eat any insects that might be interested in a spider egg omelet.

In any case, most pet-keeping in the animal kingdom is a clear form of mutualism. So imagine how confused the average space-squid will be when his bunk mate is stressing out because he’s almost out of frozen mice for his pet snake, and he’s not sure if the danger noodle can stomach the “local alternative”.

#space australia #humans are space orcs #space australians #we pet all puppers

[jimmymcgools]

ahh i was just gonna do a slightly earlier chunk in that chap 14 scene, but this is even better! ty pal 💖💖

fic commentary meme and my answers

(screenshotted the question so i can answer on this sideblog)

“Kim,” he says, and he exhales. Feels a tightness on his skin as he says, “Why are you doing this?” She flinches, almost. A little blink and a shift backward.

ah the eternal struggle of trying to capture one of rhea’s expressions 😂

from jimmy’s perspective i don’t think this is a dumb question at all, but i don’t think kim even considered not helping jimmy. so it takes her aback that jimmy would have to ask about this. 

“But I guess I’ve been selfish since I came here,” she says, voice soft now, head tilted. “I guess I came here to be selfish. And it all came crashing down.”

i loved the idea of this because i love characters opening up or being honest in a way that isn’t actually objectively true. or, at least, the truth here is that this is some of what kim feels about leaving her family in nebraska and coming to make a more self-controlled and powerful life in albuquerque, but is it selfish to look after yourself and to better yourself? i mean, maybe a bit, or maybe in a less negatively-connotated version of the word. 

and i liked the fight between the two kinds of selfishness in kim here. wanting to be in control and climb the ladder... and then wanting to be with jimmy, even though it makes it harder to be in control of her life, but he makes her feel good and he makes her happier. 

“You never lied to me,” he offers, eventually. “You were honest—told me you didn’t have time, that it wouldn’t be fair.” He sighs. “But I kept pushing.”

kinda flipping the moment in the big argument where jimmy says that although kim never explicitly lied to him she didn’t behave honestly -- that her absence of words might not be dishonesty but it’s not honesty either. 

i like their little tentative steps back out onto the ice, each trying to take responsibility, or sharing responsibility. 

“I was selfish,” Kim says again, and they sound like words she’s been saying for months, coming up to the surface over and over now because they’ve been held back for so long, like they’re gasping for breath. “I was selfish, and I—I wanted you.”

📣 KIM WEXLER WANTS JIMMY MCGILL  GODDAMMIT 📣

you can really see the influence of my kim pov pieces here 

“I wanted you like I wanted the rest of it,” Kim continues, waving a hand. “Like I wanted the law degree and the nice briefcase and the big office on the fiftieth floor.”

love thinking about kim in the same breath as “they’re on the 35th floor? you’re gonna be on the 50th floor. you’re gonna be looking down on them.”

“You’re…” She sighs. “Anyway. Maybe that’s worse than lying. Maybe that’s worse, making you think this could be something steady and then pulling the floor out from under you every time.” She stares at him, blue and bright. “So I get it.” And milder now, almost throwaway: “But I’d like to help with this. If you’ll have me.”

this is kim’s alternative version of jimmy’s “you're like ice” during the rooftop bar scene. 

there, jimmy gives himself all the agency in walking out onto the dangerous ice. here, kim gives herself all the agency for pulling the stable surface out from beneath him. but the end result is the same!

“Kim,” he says, humming the end of her name

little callback to acb: Kim: crisp and sharp but with a soft humming noise at the end, smooth and warm on his lips. Kim.

i wanted to sort of unconsciously refer back to that period in their relationship with how jimmy appreciates saying kim’s name here, how he’s aware of this humming part again. 

His knee touches hers where the booths angle close to each other. 

this is why i think it’s just as valuable for writers to look up ref pictures of settings as it is for visual artists, because i never would have thought of these angled booths until i saw them in photos of the owl cafe, and i love what it adds! 

The jukebox changes. Eighties synths and kicking drums rise through the restaurant, and it sounds like driving down a road late at night, or like drunken mornings at Arno’s. 

i said it a couple of places already, but all the music in this chapter is really on the jukebox in the real owl cafe. please play this for me if you ever go!! 

And he looks at his wrong answers, at the sharp black letters of his writing.

one of the little visual motif thingies in safs, these sharp black letters. they overtake jimmy when he has his optical poptitude breakdown in chapter 5. 

Kim nods like she’d been expecting the solemnity of his answer, like it all makes sense to her, somehow. He keeps waiting for her to ask him why, for her to ask what he was thinking or what he’s doing or why he hid it from her or why he’s here—but she still doesn’t.

one of the big fundamental misunderstandings that jimmy’s still holding on to. he didn’t think kim would understand and he’s STILL waiting for the other shoe to drop, for her to start up the argument again. and there’s the “why are you here” that haunted jimmy through the first half of safs. 

Instead, she stands, and he watches her. She holds out a hand, palm up. “Come on,” she says. “C’mere.”

this is totally and shamelessly my postmodern prometheus moment, whoops

bette davis eyes vibed so similar to walking in memphis and the idea wormed its way into my lizard brain and wouldn’t let go. 

is it earned?? i don’t know, it’s fanfiction. hopefully it fits with the strange magic bubble (or island??) these two make in the owl cafe for this one night. 

tysm for the ask! 💖💖

#asks #queenofnots #commentary ask meme

[gingerpeachtae]

Concentric [3]

masterlist

Words: 8.9k

Genres: fantasy!AU, angst, fluff, enemies to lovers, eventual smut (?)

Warnings: blood, decapitation (yikes), violence

Summary: You had been ready for the end of the semester. You had been ready to spend time away from your best friend, Jimin, and finally move on from the feelings you harbored. Yet, after your friend was forced to reveal a secret, you found yourself in a new world that was chock full of magic, war, and wonder. So, here you were, basically thrown into your own fantasy novel, with your best friend on one side, and six male warriors on the other.

A/N: here ya go ya peach heads! pls engoy & I would luv to hear any feedback you have for me! 

“…and then he tried fighting with swords, but he would either completely shatter the blade or the handle would fall off!” Tae was laughing so hard while he told the story that he fell on his side, clutching his stomach.

“Don’t forget the time he threw the knife behind him instead of at the target when I tried to teach him!” Hoseok chimed in.

“I-it’s not-it wasn’t that bad!” The male of subject tried to defend his actions before looking to you with pleading eyes. “I swear! It wasn’t my fault!”

You tried, you really did, to withhold your laughter for his sake. But one look at Tae rolling on the ground and you couldn’t hold back any longer.

Sounding defeated, he proceeded to whisper, “I would pick them up and they’d just break or go flying on their own.”

“Nope, you’re just a god of destruction. Our leader is too strong!” Tae exclaimed.

He had been explaining why Namjoon was the only one who fought with a mace. Apparently, the other members of the kiela refused to let him fight with sharp weapons because of how clumsy he was. There had been quite a few accidents until they finally got the sense to ban him from anything with a pointy end.

You shot Namjoon a comforting look through your giggles, and the emergence of his dimples showed you that he appreciated the gesture.

Then, looking toward the fire in the middle of the group, you asked, “Jin, are you sure you don’t want any help? I can cook fairly well, you know.”

You had finally met the eldest member of the kiela when you began setting up camp, which consisted of picking a designated sleeping spot and getting a fire rolling. When the Saeni you had yet to meet started chopping up what looked like carrots, celery, and some other familiar ingredients, you had approached to introduce yourself and offer your help. It would be an an understatement to say that your offer had been immediately and forcefully turned down.

Now, the black-haired male shook his head as he tossed another ingredient into the pot over the flames. Once he stirred it into the pot he turned his dark brown eyes to you, his hoop piercings shaking slightly from the sudden movement.

“Ya! I already told you, I’m the caretaker of this kiela, okay?” He shook his spoon at you in what you hoped was fake aggravation. “Just because you’re a female doesn’t mean you can steal my position!”

“I don’t know hyung… Y/N really is a good cook. Maybe you should let her help just a little bit.” Jimin said.

Jin’s jaw dropped. “How dare you Chim!? How dare you betray me like this?” He moved to point the spoon at Jimin’s apricot head and threatened, “Don’t make me smack you!”

“Aish! Calm down. I know you take care of all of us, but...”

“What?” Jin crossed his arms, finger tapping against the wooden spoon.

You quickly muttered, “You’re not my dad…

“Ugly ass fuckin’ noodlehead.” Jimin finished with you, laughing and giving you a high five.

Jin blinked twice before sighing, rolling his eyes, and returning to his steaming pot. The rest of the Saeni gave you both confused looks, obviously not knowing what you referenced.

Poor lads. Living in a world without Vine.

“But seriously Papa Jin, if you ever want or need help, let me know. I would love to give you a hand.”

The male just huffed and continued to stir his food.

“For Exia’s sake, you’re all so loud. Some people are trying to rest,” the lump curled on the ground complained.

“That would only be you, Yoongi.” Tae chuckled.

“Don’t be such a grouchy pants,” added Hoseok, but it lacked any real bite.

You watched as his eyes traveled over Yoongi’s form with an emotion that was quite familiar to you.

Interesting.

“Yeah, well Kookie is over your babbling mouths too.”

You shifted to look at the burgundy-haired male, noting that he was sitting stiffly, eyes on the ground. You realized he hadn’t said a word since Namjoon decided to stop for the day, which had been over an hour ago. His pea green eyes shot up and locked with yours. They narrowed before he stood up and walked into the trees, mumbling about how he wasn’t tired and wanted to go for a walk.

“Kookie’s been acting so weird.” Tae stretched his arms over his grey head and adjusted his headband.

Not necessarily wanting to get into Jungkook and his poopy personality right then, you asked to no Saeni in particular, “Who’s Eshea?”

“Exia.” Namjoon corrected you.

“Exia…?” You slowly said back and grinned when his yellow eyes brightened at your proper pronunciation.

Tae jumped into the conversation. “She’s the goddess of battle and strategy! BTS Saeni tend to pray to her more than the other gods.”

“BTS? Other gods? Jimin told me that Illain is named after Illai, but there are more?”

Hoseok groaned at Tae’s comment. “He has some fixation on calling us BTS Saeni because we’re-”

“Battle-Trained Soldiers!” Tae interrupted proudly, clearly pleased with his made-up acronym.

You glanced at Jimin out of the corner of your eye, who just shrugged as he decided to let his brothers handle the explanations.

“Okay, BTS. I can dig it Tae,” you tell him, and he beamed. “So, there’s Illai and Exia… what other gods are there?”

Namjoon took the reins once more. “There are seven ethereal beings. Illai, the mother and life goddess. Her siblings, Exia and Juufa. The latter is the god of harmony and accord. Then, the mother goddess has four children, each taking claim to a season: Ilto is spring, Vebah is summer, Keoth is autumn, and winter is Opitax.”

“Who fathered her kids? Was it her sibling?” You supposed the idea should’ve made you squirm more than it did, but you’d read enough mythology in your life to know that it wasn’t exactly a rare thing for deities to do.

“I…” Namjoon paused, thinking hard before frowning. “I don’t know.”

Hoseok began praising you for finally finding something that his leader didn’t have the answer to.

“I heard she was pregnant when she came to be.” Jin piped up.

Tae proceeded to voice his own opinion. “Nah hyung, it was definitely a self-impregnation.”

“Oh! I think there’s a species of lizard that does that on Earth!” You excitedly claim, looking to Jimin for confirmation.

“Why do you think I would know?” He said, making your face drop into a pout.

“Well, clearly, none of us know the answer. I’m sorry Y/N,” The kiela’s leader spoke up before the conversation could totally go sideways. “But anyways, many Saeni worship a particular god or goddess based on their birth season as well as occupation like in our case.”

You didn’t really know what else to say besides a simple “wow.” You weren’t the religious type, but you were intrigued by the various beliefs around the world. You enjoyed learning about them, so it was amazing to hear about the Saeni’s. Although, you did find it odd that none of them knew who fathered the four seasonal gods. Maybe somebody could bring Maury Povich over to Illain and have him do his paternity test segment with Juufa. You could just imagine his “You are not the father!” declaration to the god. Or maybe it would be “You are the father!” Who knows…

That’s why they need Maury!

You were brought out of your thoughts of bringing the American talk show host on a cross-world adventure when Jin announced that dinner was ready. Excitedly jumping off the ground at the Saeni’s words, you pulled Jimin up by his arm.

Pondering missing information from the Saeni culture would have to wait until food got into your belly.

Laying on the mat rolled out underneath your body, you couldn’t find it in you to close your eyes and drift to sleep. Your mind would not shut off and you kept wiggling around like a worm in the hopes of finding a position that would lull your ass to Snoozeland. It wasn’t working. Flopping to your other side once more, you stared at Jimin sleeping next to you. His plush lips were pursed, and he was expelling soft puffing noises.

You’re not going to get any sleep if you keep staring at his cute face!

You sighed before turning your head away. Cursing yourself for not being able to hit your internal power button, you sat up and ran your hands down your face. You cradled your head in your hands as you listened to the bugs in the dark.

All of the sudden, you perked up when you heard a melodic sound drifting through the forest. It was a beautiful, low-pitched song. Curious as to what animal was making it, you removed the blanket from where it was draped over your legs and rose to go find out. You crept around the Saeni silently, not wanting to wake them, and you paused when you made it to the perimeter of their snoring forms. The next round of pretty sounds came from your left, so you angled your body in that direction and tip-toed away, not noticing the pair of green eyes that followed your movements.

Glancing up at the moonlight filtering through the trees, you smiled to yourself. It was so peaceful here. So quiet yet filled with an orchestra of sounds. It wasn’t the buzzing of electricity, the honking of traffic, or the thumping of music escaping past closed doors. It was only the sounds of nature. Plain and simple and nothing else.

You had been looking for that mystery animal for around seven minutes. You hadn’t heard it in about three, so you halted your feet to listen carefully.

Bugs clicking.

Trees creaking.

Leaves rustling.

And was that it? You heard a faint noise, so you held your breath and leaned your ear forward in hopes of catching the sound again.

“What are you doing?”

You gasped at the unexpected voice behind you. You jerked your head over your shoulder and raised a hand over your heart to steady its rapid pace when you recognized the person who startled you.

“Fucking hell Coco! You scared the shit out of me!”

“What are you doing?” He repeated himself, and you were shocked when you noticed his voice didn’t carry its usually venom.

He almost sounded… nice.

Taken back, it took you a few seconds to respond, “Oh, um. I couldn’t sleep, and I heard this really pretty sound, so I wanted to check out was it was. And now that I say it out loud, I realize that that’s the opening scene from every camping horror movie ever, so that was probably super dumb on my part so-”

“I get it. You can stop rambling now.” The male interrupted you before sighing. “It was the call of a tilqua, they’re nocturnal so you don’t hear them during the day.”

“They’re a type of bird,” he continued after seeing your blank face.

“Oh! Cool! Uh, thanks for telling me.”

It fell to an awkward silence after that. Neither of you saying anything and avoiding looking at each other. You shifted your weight foot to foot as the painful quiet continued for another minute.

Not able to take it any longer, you blurted out, “Why are you being so cordial with me all of the sudden?”

You really should have just kept your damn mouth shut because, almost instantly, his entire demeanor toward you changed. He flinched at your question, as if it awoke him a trance. Then, he narrowed his eyes, any hint of warmth they might’ve had was now gone.

“I’m not being nice to you. I was on watch and saw someone leaving camp. I came to check why.” His voice was void of any emotion.

“I… but you... the sound-”

“It’s your fault,” he talked over you, his tone now carrying anger.

“Wh-what? What’s my fault? I haven’t done anything.”

You saw his hand descend to grip the handle of his dagger. Shit. You’d annoyed him, and you didn’t even know how or why.

“Just go back to camp. Go lay down next to Chim, and go to sleep already,” he said through his teeth, hand squeezing the dagger.

Not wanting to be around such an aggravating person anymore, you found yourself following his demand by promptly marching past him, making sure to bump into him as you did. He growled as your shoulder checked his but didn’t retaliate further.

You couldn’t believe it. The audacity of that male! He was the one who had followed you like some creeper. You let out a quiet scream of frustration as your stomped through the forest back to the camp and did exactly what he told you to do.

You woke up to Jimin gently shaking you and saying that it was time to get your ass up.

You moaned. “Mmmmmm-kay Slim Jim, just give me fi-“

“I swear if you’re about to say five more minutes…”

“-ive more minutes.” You rolled over and tugged the blanket closer to your chin.

You vaguely heard Jimin say something about not being sorry when, out of nowhere, a heavy weight plopped down on top of you, making you grunt from the impact.

“Slim Jim, I will personally shave your head if you don’t get off me!”

“Are you always this grumpy in the morning?” A deep voice that was definitely not Jimin’s murmured in your ear.

Cracking an eye open, you saw that it was Tae who had jumped on you. His handsome face was squished against yours and his long limbs were wrapped around your curled-up body. Seeing your eyes open, he gave you his signature boxy smile, which you returned with no hesitation. You couldn’t bring yourself to be mad at the guy when he looked so damn adorable.

You accepted your defeat. “Alright, alright. I’ll get up, but you gotta get the hell off me first.”

He immediately scrambled up, pulling you vertical with him. He gave you a big hug that lifted you off your feet before setting you down and skipping away to talk with Jungkook. You averted your eyes, not wanting to see the burgundy head’s glare this early in the morning.

You yawned and stretched your entire body. The sun was just beginning to peak out over the horizon and you were glad that you didn’t have a clock to see how hellaciously early it must’ve been. After gathering your belongings and shoving them into your backpack, you walked over to join the rest of the Saeni. Jin handed you what looked like an apple and tasted just as refreshing and sweet.

“Aren’t you going to apple-aud me for making sure you eat the most important meal of the day?”

You swallowed your bite before replying, “This is an apple?”

“Uh, yeah? What else would it be?”

Sorry for not knowing ya’ll had apples over here, damn.

“And what about my joke!? None of you appreciate peak humor! Ugh, you let me down Y/N.”

Before you could compliment his atrociously great dad joke, the Saeni walked away in exaggerated disappointment. At least you hoped it was exaggerated.

Lifting your shoulders in a shrug, you continued munching on the tasty, green fruit as you watched Jimin join Tae and Jungkook’s conversation. You had to admit that if you weren’t aware of who these people were to Jimin, you would have been feeling just a wee bit neglected. Your best friend had been spending more time speaking with the Saeni than with you. Granted, he always checked in with you to make sure you were doing okay, but he hadn’t really talked to you. But, you couldn’t be upset at him. He was probably just taking the time to catch up with everyone since it had been about nine months since seeing them last. Plus, you did sort of invite yourself onto the trip, so you were just happy to be here. You had also been getting to know Tae and Hoseok more, since the two of them walked beside you most of the time. They were both loud and eccentric, but they had kind souls. You really enjoyed talking with them and they loved hearing your stories about Jimin on Earth.

Just as you took the last bite of apple, Namjoon called you over. Tossing the core behind a tree to give a forest animal its own breakfast, you hurried over to the tall male who handed you your two daily petals. Tossing them into your mouth to dissolve, your body momentarily froze as the experience of consuming them together hit you in full force. It was almost overwhelming, but once it passed and your vision cleared, you gave Namjoon a smile and wave before bounding over to Hoseok who was leaning against a tree. Seconds later, Tae joined the two of you, thankfully without a certain coconut-headed asshat.

You had been walking for around three hours. Three hours of stepping around trees, leaping over logs, and being the only damn person making a sound as you stepped over foliage. Three hours before finally giving in and voicing the question you had been dying to ask.

“Do you guy carry around hair dye or does Yoongi color your hair with magic?”

When the Saeni striding next to you gave a look of confusion you expanded your question. “Well, you both have dyed hair so how do you maintain it in the field? Doesn’t it wash out? Or sweat out?

“Our hair isn’t dyed Y/N.”

“What? But you have grey hair, Tae! And Hoseok, yours is silver white! You’re not old enough to have grey or white hair!” Your eyes widened as a possibility you hadn’t considered came to you. “Oh my gosh. Are you guys old geezers? Do Saeni age differently than humans?”

Tae snickered at your panicked tone and you went to smack his shoulder, but he easily evaded your hand.

“Okay first off, can you please stop calling me Hoseok? It’s so weird to have someone use my real name.” The male himself asked.

“Uh sure, but you told me that’s your name, so I don’t know what else to call you?” You winced as your foot snapped yet another twig on the forest floor.

“Just call me Hobi, little scorja. Secondly, like Tae said, we don’t dye our hair. None of us do. It’s all natural, baby.”

“All natural my ass. Yoongi has mint-blue hair! That shit at natural, honey.”

At the mention of Yoongi’s name, Hobi’s eyes twitched over to the Saeni and faintly smiled.

Tae then filled in for Hobi since he was distracted. “Yeah, and Chim has orange hair and Namjoon’s got yellow eyes. We’re all born with it, little scorja. Our eye and hair color come from our birth season.

“Hobi, Jin, and I were all born when Opitax had control, so we have winter-esque features, hence the grey and white hair.

Chim and Joonie were during Keoth’s months, so they have autumn coloring.

Kookie has Vebah’s summer tones. And Yoongi is-”

“Ilto. Spring.” Hobi returned to the discussion.

“Hold up.” You raised your hand to emphasize your words. “Jimin had black hair when we were kids though.”

“Oh yeah! I remember when he first showed up, we all though he was an Opitax baby.” Tae laughed while giving Hobi a nudge with his elbow.

“He dyed his hair black to blend in with humans. I’m guessing that vibrant orange is not a normal color for your people, especially kids.”

You looked up to where Jimin was walking with Namjoon and Yoongi, his apricot tresses standing out among the greenery of the forest. Those same tresses that had just showed up at the end of summer one year and never went away. You always inquired how he got his dark roots to never pop up and he would give you a sly smile in return every time. You had thought he was just keeping his superb dyeing technique a secret, but apparently, the only secret was that it was his natural hair.

“And to answer that last part,” Hobi continued, “we age the same as humans do.”

“Well… that’s a relief,” you said as you tilted your head up to catch a patch of sunlight filtering through the leaves.

The conversation died, but it was a comfortable silence. Unlike last night with Jungkook. As the three of you hiked on, Tae would occasionally point out a flower or plant he thought you would find pretty and Hobi would advise you to be more careful when you stumbled over some obstacle. Overall, though, you let the forest do most of the talking. You could slightly hear Namjoon, Yoongi, and your Slim Jim making conversation ahead of you as well as Jin complaining to Jungkook behind you. As you grabbed a hold of a tree trunk to swing yourself around it, a strong gust of wind blew past you, causing your hair to go wild. Blowing the pieces out of your face, you glimpsed Tae’s feather earring swaying in the wind.

“Okay another question, please don’t hate me. Why do you all have ear piercings? They look badass, don’t get me wrong, but couldn’t they be a liability in a fight?”

“How could they be a liability?” Hobi answered your question with a question.

You explained that they could get caught on something or their enemy could yank on them or rip them out if they got close enough.

Both Saeni let out a laugh before Hobi said, “That may be true, but I highly doubt it would happen. Especially our enemies yanking on them.”

“We actually wear them to symbolize what kind of fighter we are!” Tae added as hopped over a fallen log.

“Huh?” You opted to go beneath the fallen tree, briefly pausing to curiously look at what seemed like a black hand print on the bark.

“Feather for archers like me. Metal for swords, daggers, and knives like Hobi, Kookie, and Jin. Dark beads for blunt weapons like Namjoon and his mace, and Yoongi has bone for magic users!”

“That’s what they’re for!? I thought they were just some Saeni fashion statement. Don’t they sort of… give you guys away?”

Hobi snorted as he swatted a branch out of his face. “If the weapons literally strapped to our backs don’t give us away I don’t think our ‘fashion statements’ will be the thing to do so.”

His sassy remark caused you to fake pout. They cooed at you, poking at your cheeks and sides until you giggled at their antics. Pleased they had you back to smiling, they dropped their hands and moved back to a respectful distance.

“That reminds me, I need to give Chim his!” Tae suddenly gasped out.

“Give him his what?”

“His earrings! He’s an archer too, but he leaves his earrings with me when…” He was gone before he finished his sentence, running up to where Jimin was.

You blinked at his rapid departure. For a strict, “battle-trained soldier” he sure was in a world of his own sometimes.

Thankfully, the dagger and knife enthusiast next to you finished for him. “Chim gives them to Tae so that he doesn’t lose them on Earth.”

So Jimin was an archer? Damn, you’d love to see him knock an arrow back, you bet he’d look sexy as heck. You turned your head to ask Hobi how good Jimin was, but you saw that his eyes were focused on where Tae had run up to. Focused on one Saeni up there in particular. Not the first time you had caught him staring at the other male. You had noticed that Hobi’s eyes went to find the other Saeni whenever his there was a pause in conversation. Or he would try to fight back his smile when the other’s name was mentioned. He did it so many times during dinner last night that you were about to smash their faces together and say your godly work was done. But for now…

“Does he know?”

“Hmm?” He replied still staring at the other male.

“Yoongi. Does he know?”

“What!?” He squeaked as he whipped his head to you. He coughed to try to return his voice to its normal pitched. “Ah, I mean what are you talking about?”

You smirked to yourself as you saw his face grow warm, but he obviously wasn’t ready to talk about it. “Never mind. It’s nothing.”

He visibly relaxed at your words. You wished you could help him out somehow, but it wasn’t your place to interfere. Especially given your own shitty situation. Unrequited love was quite the bitch, so you truly hoped that that wasn’t the case for Hobi.

You sent him an understanding smile and the two of you walked on.

Namjoon finally called it for the day when the group came across a wide river. The roar of the white rapids was almost deafening as they churned the water and interrupted the otherwise peaceful landscape.

You, Tae, and Hobi stayed at the designated campsite, watching Papa Jin prepare the evening’s meal, while the rest of the boys went to scout a calmer part of the river to wash off in.

Currently, you and Tae were doing your best to annoy the other Saeni as you tossed small nuts at them. You laughed as Jin shook his knife at you in a threat. Calling his bluff, you simply stuck your tongue out in return.

“Exia give me strength,” the eldest Saeni muttered, turning back to his pot.

“You were already a brat, Tae, but with her… aish. You two are the worst.” Hobi tried his best to sound serious, but the smile tugging at the corner of his lips destroyed any hope he had.

You fell into Tae as your giggles consumed your body, his arms wrapping around you and holding you close. As your lungs calmed down, you heard footsteps approaching.

“Thank Illai you guys found someplace to wash off. I need to get away from these two tyrants.” You saw Jin point to you and your partner in crime.

Ignoring his comment, you turned your head to great the returning Saeni, but your hello died in your throat.

Namjoon, Yoongi, and Jimin were in the process of putting their shirts on and you caught sight of their defined muscles. You slowly closed your mouth and gulped. You’d obviously seen Jimin without a shirt on plenty of times before, but it hit on a whole different level to see him semi-shirtless and wet.

Not to mention that both Yoongi and Namjoon clearly worked out too. It was… a lot of take in. You didn’t think you could withstand any more pure, male hotness, but the gods of Illain must have wanted you to suffer because Jungkook decided right then would be a wonderful time to show up. Completely sans shirt.

All you could do was look at him as he whined to his hyungs about something that was absolutely no concern to you at that moment. Your eyes took in his physique that was muscular but still lean. The strength of his biceps was evident as he waved his arms at the others, causing the muscles to flex. You softly gasped when you noticed that his stomach was so cut that he had a freaking eight pack. Eight! Your eyes trailed lower and… oh my…

His. Fucking. Thighs. Due to the dampness of his skin, the fabric of his pants clung to his legs, effortlessly showcasing the prominent muscles. Every step he took had them bulging and you swear you almost fainted from the sight. You couldn’t tear your eyes away as you squeezed your own thighs together.

H-holy fuck. Coco was freaking ripped.

“Why is she staring at Kookie?” You heard Tae whisper to someone.

Your eyes widened and before you could look away, Jungkook’s head swiveled to you and saw that your eyes were locked on him.

Fucking hell. Why Tae!?

To your utter shock though, was that instead of bitching at you, he blushed and ran to hide behind a tree. As he yeeted himself out of there, you caught sight of a tattoo on his upper, middle back.

“Why’d you say that out loud? You know he gets shy!” Jin lightly smacked the offending Saeni on his arm.

“Hey, the little scorja was practically drooling! We were all thinking it, I just happened to be the one t- Ow!”

You gave him a smack of your own on his leg while your cheeks heated up in embarrassment.

“That’s not nice!” He complained.

“Neither is voicing when someone is checking someone else out, Tae.” Namjoon pointed out as he sat down next to the fire.

Completely humiliated, you hid your face in your hands. Although, you did peek through your fingers to gauge Jimin’s reaction. The boy was folded in half, cracking up as his eyes squished closed.

Stupid cute squishy eyes.

You knew it was hopeless, but a small part of you had wished he’d be just a tiny bit jealous. Clearly, that was not the case.

Attempting to change the mortifying subject, you coughed before saying, “Uh, I didn’t know Coco had a tattoo.”

“What!? That kid has a tattoo!?” Jin shrieked in alarm before catching Yoongi’s “are you serious?” expression. “Oh, you must mean our draeva marks.”

“Drai-Draiva marks?”

“Drae-va.” Jin pronounced slowly for you. “Saeni are all connected to Illain. This connection can sometimes be accessed and converted to magic by certain individuals like Yoongi. Majority, however, only have the standard draeva marks.”

You didn’t notice the smiles from both Jimin’s and Tae’s faces dropping since you were transfixed on Jin’s words. “Each Saeni is born at the same time a tree begins to take root. These trees are called draeva, though they can be any species. At seven years old, we feel the connection emerge in our souls and we feel a pull to that tree.”

As he talked, you noticed Jungkook come out of hiding, thankfully fully clothed this time. He went to sit next to Tae and put his arm around the Saeni���s shoulders as Namjoon started to elaborate on the subject. He said that every Saeni goes on a journey to find their draeva when the connection is established. Once the tree is found, the connection permanently takes root in the Saeni’s soul when they rest their hand on the trunk. The Saeni’s hand print is forever embellished on the bark, and in return, the Saeni gets a mark that replicates the tree’s inner rings. Every seven years, another ring appears, and the mark provides them with heightened senses and reflexes as well as the ability to feel the state of the draeva and surrounding area.

As you absorbed the information, you realized that the mark you saw earlier on the fallen tree must’ve been a Saeni’s hand print. You wondered what happens to the Saeni when their tree collapses like that. And although you were delighted to have learned more about Saeni culture, something jumped to the forefront of your thoughts.

“Slim Jim, you don’t have one.”

He looked down at your comment. “I don’t, um, I haven’t found my draeva.” His eyebrows pulled together, and his voice was shaking slightly. “I probably don’t even have one since I’m not fully Saeni.”

“Shit. Jimin, I’m sorry I didn-”

“You didn’t know, it’s okay.” He sent you a small smile that didn’t reach his eyes as Jin reached over to give his shoulder a squeeze.

Fuck, I lied. Your squishy eyes aren’t stupid. Bring them back.

“For the second night in a row, people are trying to sleep and you’re keeping them awake with all your emotions.” Yoongi grumbled.

The magic user had been quiet throughout the entire ordeal. Until now. You hadn’t even noticed that he’d gone straight to the fire to lay down on the ground. Though you were beginning to recognize that was standard behavior for the mint-haired Saeni. When he did finally speak up, he kept his usual, annoyed tone, but you could tell he was trying to lighten the atmosphere in his own, slightly questionable way. Trying to distract Jimin from his sadness.

Tae shot to his feet, preaching to Yoongi something along the lines of how emotions are what connect people together and yadda yadda yadda. 

You watched as Jimin’s face lifted in amusement and you silently thanked Mr. Sparkle Hands.

Once again, you were having a difficult time finding sleep. Or rather, sleep refused to find you because you’d tried every position and trick you could think of. Expelling the air in your lungs in a fast manner, you rose to your legs and shuffled over to where Tae was on watch.

He gave you a big smile as your approached, but it morphed into a frown. “You know I love talking to you, Y/N, but you should really get some sleep.”

“Trust me, I wish I could, but ya girl’s got insomnia.”

He hummed to express his empathy before grabbing your hand. “Well, if we’re going to talk, let’s walk the perimeter so we don’t wake the others.”

Waffling your fingers with his, the two of you started walking the circumference of the camp, far enough that nobody would hear you, but close enough to keep an eye on the area.

The two of you had been circling the camp for a decent amount of time, discussing absolute nonsense such as why you considered Steak and Shake fries to be on the bottom of the french fry totem pole.

“They’re skinny little shoestring fries! I like my fried potatoes to be girthy, you know. Give me some thick, crinkle cuts instead.”

As you argued in favor of girthy fries to someone who had never had one, Yoongi appeared out of the shadows. His face was not very happy, and you wondered what was wrong.

“Uhhh, hey Yoongi! Do you have insomnia too?”

He stopped and took you in with a judgmental face. “No. Only the small-minded get insomnia.”

“Oh, piss off.”

Disregarding your request, he turned to address Tae next to you.

“Hey! What are you doing? I wake up to take over watch and I don’t even find you at your post!”

Tae rolled his eyes. “Hyung, you know I can still see everything just fine from here, there’s no need t- Shit!”

Yoongi must have seen it a split-second before Tae had because he was the one that knocked you out of the way when the giant, black shadow of a thing came charging out of the dark.

You hit the ground hard with a grunt, scraping your forearm against a rock. Rolling over, you screamed Yoongi’s name as you saw him get tackled by the creature, the blue glow of an almost-finished spell fading as he went down. All you could do was watch in horror as wild jaws snapped at his head and claws raked down his body. Suddenly, an arrow thumped into the thing’s neck, but it only growled and continued ravaging the mint-haired Saeni who struggled, and failed, to push it off.

Hearing Tae curse, you looked in his direction and saw him running at the beast. He held his bow in both hands and defiantly yelled as he swung down. You gaped at you watched the sharp edge of his bow cut straight through the creature’s neck, causing the head to decapitate and the body to sag. The head hit the ground and rolled away from its previous owner until it came to a halt beside you.

You stared at it, blood still pumping out of the severed end in thick spurts. Midnight-colored skin that seemed rough and leather-like stretched across its skull. A thin, purple tongue hung limply out of its mouth, which was filled with rows and rows of teeth that looked like needles. You just stared at the gruesome head until you heard Tae calling Yoongi’s name.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

You wobbled to your feet and stumbled as fast as you could over to the Saeni, doing your best to ignore the headless body as Tae heaved it off Yoongi. You exhaled in relief when you heard Yoongi’s low voice responding to Tae and saw his pink eyes open and alive. Your reprieve was short-lived, however, as you lowered your eyes to Yoongi’s arms and torso.

They were… not in good shape. Deep gashes were twisted all around his arms, pouring out tiny rivers of blood that soaked the ground beneath him. Luckily, he had his main armor on, protecting his vital organs, but the creature had still found an open chink with its claws. You felt a tear run down your cheek as you saw where it had dug into the flesh on his left side. He was breathing weakly and his chest was spasming as Tae moved his hands to press against the wound.

You dropped to your knees and whispered Yoongi’s name, your voice and hands trembling as you took in his damaged body.

There was just so much blood. It was everywhere. Your vision was only red, red, red.

What do I do? What do I do!? Oh god…

“Y/N. Y/N! Y/N!”

You broke out of your crimson-filled trance.

“Y-yes?” Your chin quivered.

“I need you to go back to camp and wake up the others, alright?” You could tell he was trying to speak as calmly as possible to not panic you further. “I need you to bring Hobi back, so he can help me move him. Can you do that for me, little scorja?”

You nodded as confidently as you could before shooting to your feet and sprinting back to camp, the image of Yoongi being mauled and his wrecked body burned into your brain.

Somewhere else, hundreds of miles away from a frantic you, an injured Yoongi, and a shocked kiela, was a male sitting inside of a large tent, which was erected within his own encampment. Most of his face was shrouded in darkness, only the bridge of his nose and peak of his cheekbones were visible in the light of a few burning candles. He looked up from the map spread out before him when someone entered his tent. The wolves beside the male lifted their heads in attention at the intrusion.

“Sir? We’ve gotten word that he is back in Illain.”

The three wolves regarded the subjugate with aggressive eyes, causing him to gulp in fear.

“Anything else?” The shadowed male inquired.

“Their magic user was attacked by a lupinx.” He replied without looking away from the massive canines.

The male leaned back in his chair, a sinister smile creeping onto his face while his eyes twinkled in satisfaction.

“Perfect. Tell them to proceed with the plan.”

You felt horrible as you watched five of the Saeni train the next morning. You hadn’t been able to defend yourself last night, and Yoongi had paid for your weakness. You fisted your hands and dug your nails into your palm.

You couldn’t forget how pale he had been. How odd it was to see such a complexion smeared with bright crimson.

You couldn’t forget the Saeni’s faces, who were already on their feet by the time you’d arrived, when you stammered out what had happened in choppy, broken sentences.

You couldn’t forget the way Hobi’s expression had gone from concerned to utterly terrified in an instant.

Nor the way he’d rushed over to you, eyes unnerved as he grabbed your arm. You had wanted to whimper when he clawed into the sensitive skin around your scraped forearm. He begged you to tell him where Yoongi was, and without even telling him to follow, you had turned and run back to the bloody scene.

You loosened the pressure on your hands, but a throbbing remained where your nails had almost punctured small crescents into the soft skin. You sniffled as you observed Jimin practicing with Tae’s bow while the grey-haired owner critiqued his technique. Following the sounds of ringing metal, you shifted and saw Jungkook and Jin sparing with their swords. And behind them was Hobi, who was throwing his blades at a tree with much more force than was likely necessary. Your eyes burned as you watched them.

Expelling all the air in your lungs, you hung your head. You were so thankful that Yoongi would be okay. He as currently resting back at the camp with Namjoon looking after him.

But what if it had been more serious? What if he had died because you had needed to be protected?

What did you expect when you came to a new world with a bunch of warriors? To just skip by joyously and never be in danger?

You felt pathetic. You were a liability to the entire group. All you did was get in the way. Feeling a lump grow in your throat, you swiveled and walked away from the clashing of swords and thumping of arrows. When you could no longer hear them, you let out a frustrated roar and punched the rough trunk of the nearest tree. Your knuckles scraped against the bark, opening bleeding wounds. You brought your right hand close to your face to inspect the torn skin before shaking it out and punching the tree again and again and again, each hit eliciting an increasingly louder yell from deep inside you. Finally, your legs gave out and you slumped down while cradling your bleeding and splinter-filled hand. You felt exhausted.

“Your form is terrible.”

Raising your gaze from your damaged hand, you saw the last person you wanted to see.

“Excuse me?”

“I’m just saying that your form is completely fucked.”

Why the hell did he have to come berate you on your shitty punching technique. Was there anything you could do around this guy that wouldn’t have him talking down to you? And why was he even here? Shouldn’t he be back with the others?

On a normal day, you would’ve given him a smartass’ response. But this was not a normal day. You felt like crap and this was the cherry on top of your self-depreciation milkshake. Your breathing went from strained to erratic and you felt the wall barely holding yourself together start to crumble. Taking a deep breath and closing your eyes, you tried to shut Jungkook out in a last-ditch effort to keep yourself together.

“Your hand is thrashed because you can’t even throw a punch properly.”

Welp.

“Why!?” You screamed at him. “Why do you hate me!? What did I do to you!?”

You started to cry. You were so overwhelmed. “You said it was my fault, but what was my fault? I’ve never done shit to you!”

Truly crying at this point, your breathing was now stuttered and gasping. You lowered your head to try to hide your vulnerable state. As sobs wracked your body, you wrapped your arms around your torso in a desperate attempt to find comfort.

Not taking pity on you, Jungkook responded in a vicious tone, “You want to know what you did? You’re the reason my kiela is broken.”

“W-what?” You lifted your head to look at him through your tears.

His right hand grasped on to his ruby-hilted dagger and his other was clenched tightly.

“We’re supposed to stay together. We’re not supposed to leave each other, but Jimin does. He always leaves! And why? Because. Of. You. He doesn’t stay because you’re on Earth and he doesn’t want to leave his precious best friend, so he leaves us, his brothers, his family, instead.”

“What-I-Jungkook, I never asked him to do that. I didn’t even know you guys existed.” You defended yourself, but it came out weak.

“My family is never whole because of you. I almost lost my hyung last night because of you. It’s all because of you. Because of a stupid little human.” He spat the words out.

He was breathing heavily as he towered over you. “It’s. All. Your. Fault.”

Your heart ached in pain as what he said fully resonated with you. He was hurting because of you. Because Jimin would rather live on Earth, would rather abandon his kiela for most of the year, partly so that he could keep you in his life. You felt your stomach drop at the thought and you gripped your arms hard, curling into yourself again. You felt so frustrated, so lost, and so… human.

You’ve been hurting his family and you hadn’t even known. The others might not have been so up front about it, but they must have been hurting too. They had to be. A new wave of tears erupted over your cheeks as you considered how much the Saeni must despise you. How much they must be pretending to be fine with you for Jimin’s sake. You continued to sob as your mind shifted to think of how you’d been keeping Jimin away from them. You’d been keeping your best friend and the person you loved away from the most important people in his life.

And Yoongi…

“Kook! Y/N!”

You hastily rose to your feet and stepped back from Jungkook while you wiped your tears away, hissing as you moved your injured hand. It was a futile effort, though, since you knew there was still evidence in your meek disposition and red, puffy eyes.

“Hey hyung,” Jungkook said without looking away from you, but he stiffened and turned to his brother when he noticed that Tae was panicking. “What’s wrong?”

Gasping for air, he looked at you and Jungkook, obviously taking note of his heaving chest and your red eyes, but he didn’t comment on them.

Instead he said in a stressed, frantic tone, “They got him, Kook! They got Chim!”

You were pacing back and forth in front of Yoongi, who was laying down on his mat. You ran your hands through your hair, the crappy self-wrap job you did on your knuckles catching on the strands. You gripped fistfuls of your hair and yanked at the roots in frustration.

“Y/N. I swear to Exia if you pace in front of one more ti-“

“Yoongi! They’ve been gone for so long! What if something happened? What if they’re hurt?

“Okay, firstly, it’s only been like twenty minutes, so you can calm the fuck down.” He rolled his eyes. “Secondly, as Tae would put it, we’re BTS Saeni. This is literally what we do for a living… so yet again, you can calm the fuck down.”

You stopped in the middle of taking your next step as you considered his statements. Deciding to agree with him, you placed your foot down, but stopped moving around.

“Fine! Fine. But I want it to be known that I hate having to just sit here and wait.”

“You’re not sitting, and you didn’t have to say that. It was already obvious.”

You glared at the Saeni but your eyes softened after taking in his wrapped arms and torso. The bandages didn’t seem to have any blood staining them, so either they were freshly changed or Saeni’s bodies healed extremely fast. You still dropped your head in sorrow at his injured body.

“I-I’m sorry Yoongi. For what happened. It was my fault.”

He scoffed at your words. “It wasn’t your fault, idiot. Stop blaming yourself.”

“I really don’t know whether to take that as an insult or not, and I’m not sure I believe you, but… okay.”

Sitting down on the ground next to him, you thought back to the events that occurred after Tae had shown up.

---

“They got Chim!”

While you asked Tae what he meant, Jungkook had immediately reached out to grab ahold of the other Saeni’s shoulders.

“Where?” His demand was filled with anger, but it was controlled.

Contrary to how he’d been a minute ago.

“Chim saw you leave to follow, uh, Y/N.” He glanced at you. “So, he followed you¸ Kook. That’s the last I saw him.”

He stepped away from Jungkook, causing the latter’s hands to fall off his shoulders. You had never seen the usually aloof Saeni so serious before. It worried you.

“Namjoon came running over a few minutes later saying he saw them dragging Chim away unconscious.”

“You’re telling me that Namjoon saw them… AND DIDN’T DO ANYTHING!?”

You were so goddamn confused at what was going on. All you knew was that someone apparently hurt and kidnapped your Slim Jim.

“Can someone please tell me what in the fuck is going on!?”

Ignoring you, Tae said, “Jungkook, come on, use your coconut head for a minute.”

You would have snickered at his use of your term, but it definitely was not the time or the place to do so.

“He was by himself and he didn’t know how many there were. You know he did the right thing to get us all together to get him back,” Tae continued.

Without another word, the Saeni turned and started running in the direction of camp, Jungkook following without missing a beat. You stared, dumbfounded, for a second before sprinting after them.

Your lungs were burning by the time you caught up with everyone at the camp. Your burst through the trees and abruptly stopped due to the five standing Saeni having their weapons drawn and pointed at you. You blanched and stammered out that it was just you, raising your hands to show you were unarmed for good measure. When they recognized your face, they collectively sighed and lowered their weapons.

“Sorry Y/N. We’re just a little on edge right now,” Namjoon apologized as he returned his mace over his shoulder.

Giving him a timid, but understanding nod, you replied, “Noted. Um, so can someone finally explain to me what happened?”

It was Yoongi, still laying down to recover, who spoke up. “Some very bad people took Chim.”

“Yeah, I got that much, but… but why?”

Hobi filled in. “We have an idea as to why, but we aren’t completely sure.”

So that was absolutely not informative. Thanks.

“Okay? Well, what do we do now? We gotta get him back!”

“You will do nothing, except stay here and look after Yoongi. The rest of us will get him back.” Jin firmly said.

You tried to protest, but one look at Yoongi and your breakdown from earlier came rushing back to you. Taking a deep breath, you slowly nodded your consent as you exhaled. Then, you asked how they were going to get Jimin back.

Surprisingly, it was Jungkook who answered, “Just leave it to us. You do your job by looking after Yoongi and we’ll do ours.”

Again, that wasn’t very informative.

Namjoon backed up his words. “Honestly, it would just waste time explaining it all, so like Kook said, leave it to us. Trust us.”

“Alright,” you hesitantly agreed, “I trust you guys, so just… just please bring him back.”

“We aren’t sure where they took him yet, so we don’t know how long we’ll be gone,” Namjoon informed you as he glanced to Hobi. “Since Yoongi shouldn’t access magic right now, Hobi will cast a glamour over you two in case anyone is still lingering around.”

Hobi can do magic too!?

Seeing your bewildered expression as he came up to you, Hobi sent you a small smile. He raised his hands and they began to glow a blinding white while he muttered under his breath. As the light faded, he stepped back.

“Yoongi and I grew up together,” he explained softly. “I can tell you more about it later, but for now the short version is that he’s taught me a few things about harnessing Illain’s energy. I can’t manipulate it to his extent, but I can do some basic things like this.”

“Well, you better come back to tell me the long version.” You demanded through your shock before turning to the others. “You all better. With Jimin.”

They each gave you some sort of acknowledgement before running off into the trees. You watched their backs disappear one by one behind the foliage, except for one. Instead of leaving with the rest, Tae jogged up to you, gave you a hug, and whispered into your ear, “We’ll be okay, little scorja. And we’ll bring Chim back safe and sound, I promise.”

With that, he turned and sprinted away to catch up to the others.

---

You sighed, praying that Tae would be able to keep that promise. Looking at Yoongi resting underneath the blanket covering him, you had to let out a dry chuckle.

“Well, since you’re hurt, at least you have an actual excuse to lay around now.”

You were lucky he couldn’t use a lot of magic right then, because his face told you that comment might’ve pushed him to use it on you in a not so pleasant way.

“And why do you think I’m tired all the damn time?”

“I thought you were just a natural slug.”

“Partly true, but I’m exhausted from making those petals for you. They’re not big, but they require a lot of fucking energy to make.”

“…Oh.”

“Yeah. ‘Oh.’ So, don’t call me out for wanting to res-”

He didn’t finish his sentence as his entire body perked to attention.

“What?”

He quickly and sternly hushed you, bringing a finger first to his lips, then to his ear. Telling you to listen.

And then you heard it. Or, you should say them. Voices. Ones you didn’t recognize and neither did Yoongi, it seemed.

Briefly, you panicked before remembering that Hobi had put a glamour over the two of you, so you were essentially invisible to the outside eye.

You sent Yoongi a questioning look and he gave you a serious one in return. He opened his mouth to say something, but snapped it closed when the voices grew loud and three armed strangers appeared around a tree.

previous [2] — next [4]

#concentric #bts #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts fic #bts series #bts jimin #bts jungkook #bts jeongguk #bts namjoon #bts jin #bts taehyung #bts hosoek #bts yoongi #fantasy!au #fantasy!bts #jimin x reader #jungkook x reader #jeongguk x reader #bts x reader #bts ot7 #ot7 x reader #bts fluff #bts slow burn #bts enemies to lovers #park jimin #jeon jungkook

[northshorefishingreportonli-blog]

Top Reasons to Go For Fishing Trips and Its Accessories

Anglers put their money where their mouth is and are passionate about the environment. Fishing gives the opportunity to enjoy spending time in the outdoors. Sharing a fishing experience helps strengthen relationships with family and friends and give back to society through mentoring others in the pleasure and importance of being good stewards to our natural recourses.

How Fishing Makes You A Better Person:

Nowadays angling is an important wildlife management tool. For more than a hundred years angles have helped to contribute to wildlife and fisheries management efforts by helping to set seasons and creel limits. Live Bait Slidell is an excellent place for fishing. More than many people worldwide are suffering from overweight problem. Being outside and being active helps to feel better and encourage a healthy lifestyle.

Bass Slidell fishing is challenging to say the least as the water becomes so muddy from boat traffic when the weather is pleasant. The baits used to catch bass in the Slidell either make noise or chop the water or are weed less in design, usually soft plastics. The larger group can include artificial worms; weed less top water frogs, lizards, etc. Fishing improves self fulfillments, a recreation of hobbies, boost the economy and relief stress, etc.

Guide for Fishing in Mandeville:

Mandeville is where the urban meets the natural and connected to the south shore of Lake Pontchartrain via the Causeway, the longest bridge in the world. Live Bait Mandeville uses minnows or plane full-grown fish are spanking-new baits for some species. Live fiddler venereal or sand fleas, expressly soft-shelled ones are great, as are indecorous venereal for cobia or large red drum. Live shrimp are super morsel for any salt or stagnant water species.

#Bass Slidell #Live Bait Slidell #Live Bait Mandeville

[unapologeticallyaisha-archive]

Scrying

WARNINGS: creepy images, mild gore and violence

Summary: Loki investigates some magical mirrors and has a terrifying encounter.

Word count: 2500+

Author’s note: Pre-Thor and not part of my fanfiction series (for now)

The ancient art of scrying is prevalent in many cultures across the cosmos. This technique is utilized to divine the past, the present, or possible futures. Scrying tools are not limited to mirrors. Any reflective surface can be used for scrying: metal, stones, water, fire. What the scryer sees may be personal to them, or it may have nothing to do with them at all.

“Are you hoping to see your future lover?”

Loki looked up from his book. A grinning Thor was leaning over the desk, threatening to mess up Loki’s piles of carefully-taken notes.

Loki was interested in a wide variety of topics, and his curiosity was not superficial. A topic could be subjected to intensive research for weeks, even months. The latest one to catch his eye had been mirrors.

Mirrors were surrounded by numerous superstitions. They were said to show visions. Breaking them was considered bad luck. Some believed they could trap people’s souls, especially the souls of those who were dead. With magic being as diverse as it was, Loki held to the notion that not all such fears were irrational.

And mirrors held a special meaning for Loki. Because of his ability to cast illusions, he knew better than anyone how images could fool people. He startled himself when he walked in front of a mirror while disguised.

Thor had heard many of the same rumors, but he didn’t believe any of them. For him, mirrors were just tools for vanity.

Loki was planning on visiting a place called the Vale of Mirrors. Stories about it varied and many sounded exaggerated, but they all agreed that the Vale held some very mysterious mirrors, possibly the most powerful in the universe.

Loki wasn’t interested in scrying or seeing any deep truths. He just wanted to experience the mirrors for himself.

Loki gave his brother a bored look. “I would not waste my time asking such empty-headed questions.”

“You may find out that your sweetheart is a lizard,” Thor continued. “Or a troll.”

Loki’s eyes dropped to a drawing on the table, depicting a man cowering from a storm of whirling leaves. His mother had warned him about delving too deep into powerful magic, but the temptation was just too great.

“You should be careful in the Vale, brother,” said Thor, taking his hands off the table. “You might accidentally summon a Fire Demon that will gobble you up!” Chuckling to himself, he left Loki in the shadowy corner of the library.

The distant planet Loki landed on was largely uninhabited, so nature flourished freely. The planet’s three faraway suns gave off a comfortable light through the blue and gold trees. Furry animals with long snouts leapt through the branches, and worms twined around the trunks. Colorful rocks crunched beneath Loki’s boots.

Strangely, many of the trees were broken near the tops, with the severed branches lying in a heap around them.

Loki plucked some leaves off the ground. They were very soft, like velvet.

Placing the leaves in his coat, he continued on through the forest, following a faint but undeniable tug of magic.

At last, he reached the grove he had seen so many times in illustrations. The trees here looked as if they had been pruned. In the center of the grove was a perfectly circular pond with worms swimming in it.

Wondering if the pond was one of the mirrors, Loki peered into the water. However, it was so clear he could see right to the bottom.

Loki walked around the pond and found the ground sloping down into a pitch dark cave. He lit up his hand with yellow magic and went in.

The tunnel led to a circular room with nine large mirrors on the walls, each a plain sheet of glass.

Loki studied the mirrors. He could only see himself from several different angles. Nothing unusual.

Loki then noticed that everything was still. The sounds of rustling leaves and animals had stopped. There was invisible magic in the cave, but it was static, unmoving.

Maybe he had to focus. He drew closer to one of the mirrors. Still nothing changed.

Just as Loki was wondering if he needed to use a spell, the eyes in his reflection darkened, and the face became longer and narrower.

Loki stepped back and noticed that all the reflections were changing, growing broader or thinner, their hair morphing into other colors, until each one was a different person. All of them turned to face him.

“Who are you?” Loki asked.

���Why have you come here?” one of them asked back.

“I am here to see the magic of the Vale.”

“We can show you a great many things,” said another man.

Each of them was standing in another cave, also full of mirrors. It was his own world, multiplied a myriad times.

Maybe the mirrors were windows into other worlds, ones he could see but not touch.

Or maybe he was the reflection, and the others were reality.

Loki summoned up his courage. “What do you have to tell me?”

“Are you afraid of your future?” one of the reflections asked.

Fate was not something Loki considered very often, because it unsettled him. The conviction of most Asgardians was that no matter what came to pass, they would face it courageously.

Loki was not nearly that confident. Still, if that was what they offered, he would take it. “What do you know of my future?”

The magic in Loki’s hand extinguished itself, but the mirrors remained lit with their own eerie light.

“If you are not afraid …” said the reflection.

“You should be,” all of them hissed.

The cave and the mirrors disappeared. It was very dark, but Loki could see the faint outlines of trees. Leaves were falling around him – some silver, some a ghostly blue. The gleaming tips of creature’s snouts darted in and out of sight. Luminous worms as large as snakes swarm in a murky black pond in front of him. The whole place gave off the stench of wet leaves and dirty rainwater.

Loki heard a crackling noise that grew progressively louder. Ice was creeping over the forest floor and up the trees. Pinpricks of red light appeared in the rocks, like a million eyes looking up at him.

Terror gripped Loki. Every muscle in this body wanted to run. But just as that thought crossed his mind, a wind blew him onto his knees.

All at once, the trees broke at the point where their trunks forked, as if a giant scythe had cleaved off their tops.

Loki looked into the pond. The reflection looking back at him seemed melancholy.

Then his reflection’s arm grabbed the front of his tunic and pulled him into the dark water.

Loki barely had time to gasp.

But he wasn’t drowning. He didn’t even feel like he was underwater. The other him had vanished, and he was floating in empty blackness.

It isn’t real, he reminded himself.

His toe hit something solid, and he fell onto hard ground.

Loki’s head was on its side, and he could see that he was on a patch of rocks that smelled vaguely metallic. Beyond the rocks was a thick black fog. It was extremely quiet.

Loki tried to push himself up, but he couldn’t move a muscle. Even his eyelids had been forced open.

Something oozed up from between the rocks, flowing over Loki’s fingers and seeping through his clothing. The scent of blood filled Loki’s nose. He tried to get up again, but to no avail. His magic wouldn’t respond, either.

The blood kept coming, and Loki wondered if it was his. He thought he could see ghoulish faces in the rocks, screaming silently. Maybe they were the ones bleeding.

Just as Loki thought he would be trapped forever, the rocks turned to dust beneath him, and the liquid vaporized.

Loki twitched his fingers and found to his relief that he could move again.

He got to his feet shakily and wiped the blood off his face. The fog was gone, and he was on a barren plain. He stood there, legs apart and eyes alert.

The wind picked up, and dust got into Loki’s eyes and clothes.

Loki then thought he saw something hovering in the distance, unmoved by the wind. A spark of flame, small enough to fit in the palm of his hand. Was it a friend or an enemy?

The bits of dust started to twist themselves into cable-like strands. One end was anchored to the ground, while the other end waved in the air. Instead of attacking Loki, they started converging on the tiny flame.

The flame could be his only aid in this place He started running toward it.

Immediately, some of the cables started moving towards Loki. Their ends became pointed, like spearheads.

Loki pulled a dagger out of his coat and sliced through the cable closest to him. The cable exploded, its dust spraying over Loki. However, no sooner had it burst apart then it reassembled again.

The cables slashed, making small cuts on Loki’s hands and face. One of them darted straight towards his chest, and he dodged it.

If Loki had been facing a conventional opponent, he would have known how to fight. But these were very different entities. Stooping down, he put away his dagger and unleashed a blast of magic.

The magic scattered the pieces of dust much better than his dagger could.

Loki charged towards the flame. As he cupped his hands around it, it grew slightly larger, lighting up his face with its orange glow. It was pleasantly warm.

Loki smiled a little, but he knew he had to be careful. Fire was fickle, and not easily controlled.

Similar types of magic were attracted to each other, Loki remembered. He conjured a small flame of his own and held it steady.

The cables were advancing on him.

He strengthened his magic, and the flame grew along with it. He unleashed them both as one fiery blast. The cables were disintegrated instantly.

Loki grinned proudly. He extinguished his own magic, but the small flame stayed.

The ground quaked, making Loki almost lose his balance. The plain began turning into sinking pits of dust. Soon, only the patch of ground Loki stood on remained.

Many voices whispered all around him, speaking as one. “Will you join us? Or will you be the one to escape?”

Burning white objects, like stars, began showering from the sky. Loki had nowhere to run to, so he shielded his head.

He hated this. He had fought hundreds of enemies before, but none of them could compare to the forces of nature.

The flame spread out above him, incinerating the objects as they came near. But he could feel the flame weakening.

Fight nature with nature, he thought.

Some of the objects grazed Loki’s arms, scorching him through his clothes. When they fell around Loki’s feet, Loki saw that they were leaves, sharp as glass and smoldering with white fire. ��

Images danced in the flames. A blue crystal mounted in gold. An army mounted on winged horses.  A rift in the sky that was full of stars. A long sword stained with blood.

Just as suddenly as it had began, the bombardment of objects stopped.

Loki took his hands away from his head, and the orange flame shrunk again.

Rocks rushed out of the pits, and as he watched, the cave walls rebuilt themselves around him.

There was a flash of lightning and a thunderclap that made Loki cover his ears. He was almost certain the cave roof had split open.

Then it was absolutely silent.

The flame was gone. The leaves were gone. Except for the nine mirrors, the cave was empty.

After a few heartbeats, Loki hurried back through the tunnel into the open. The sunlight blinded him, and he fell to his knees.

When his eyes refocused, he realized he was kneeling by the edge of the pond, which was clear again. The sun was warm on his back. He watched the rippling water and fluid movements of the worms, and gradually his heart stopped pounding.

Loki gingerly reached up to touch his face. There was no blood, no dust. All his wounds had healed, but the sensations still remained.

He had to laugh at himself. He, the illusion-caster, frightened by false images. Nearly all sense had departed from him in the cave. He had always prided himself on being the rational one in his family, but it seemed fear always triumphed over intelligence. He knew the best thing to do was to go home, talk to other people, and remind himself that reality still existed.

He pictured Thor coming to him and asking, So, did you see your future lover? and him answering, Yes, and it turned out to be myself. Now please leave me and my books in peace.

Loki saw that more of the trees were broken than before. Perhaps he had actually left the cave during his vision.

The blissful scenery suddenly seemed to be overlaid with sinister images. Anything – from the ground to the plants to the sky itself – could turn against him at any moment.

Loki backed away from the pond. Then he reached into his coat and took out the leaves he had picked up. They were still blue and gold, and as bright as ever.

What had the Vale been trying to tell him?

Here’s a piece of music to go with this story (lyrics in description)

#loki #thor #son and brother #fanfiction

[drinksss]

NEW VIDEO from last wednesday (that I might’ve forgotten to link...) an in-depth look at the angled worm lizard!

#herp corner #artists on tumblr #angled worm lizard #worm #worm lizard #legless lizard #reptiblr #herpetology #reptile #amphisbaena #Agamodon anguliceps #Agamodon