#save someone who draws maw's life with this one

[elena-oc-blog]

Awe yeah! Ref time! This time captain lukka who was originally designed for me by @tetrameryxx all the way back in the days of colors!3D! She was in desperate need of an anthro ref (because I want commissions of her and also she is just neat as hell) so I went ahead and quickly whipped one up! It's a lil sketchy and wonky but im very happy with it! I hope you guys like it too! Here is her info:

Name: Lukka Bordey Gender: Female Height: 155 cm Age: 38 Sexuality: Pansexual Personality: Rowdy, impulsive, a jokester, loves her crew and being amongst friends, loud, sassy, open minded, playful, carefree, a bit childish. Loves committing pranks, taunts her enemies and tries her best to keep the mood light hearted/hopeful/cheer her crew up if things get tough. She will also allow her crew members to be upset and sad and understands that people can not be happy all the time. She will gladly provide a listening ear to someone who is struggling with something and also offer advice if asked for it. Lukka also loves music, especially folk music, pub music and of course sea shanties. After a succesful raid, she and her crew will party with drinks, music and dancing. She is also fiercely protective of children, especially her two adopted little ones Steve and Corraline.

Bio: She ran away as a teen because her home life was very unpleasant and toxic. She hung around the docks for a couple of weeks, begging and stealing money and food. She eventually befriended a fisherman who became her mentor of sorts. He teached her how to sail, how to fish, how to tie knots, all that handy stuff. At some point he got murdered in front of her eyes (though she was hidden from the attacker) and she was so heartbroken she just couldn't bare to hang around anymore. She took his boat and sailed out, never to return to her homeland. Eventually she met Bo, with whom she upgraded her boat to a pirate ship. Her crew slowly kept growing until she had a small crew of misfits that she was the mom to that she never got. The last addition to her crew was Steve who she saved from the cruel and self proclaimed pirate king Crom. Crom is very angry with her for taking away his plaything and is out for revenge, wanting to enslave her and her crew. She does not fear him however and instead mocks and taunts him whenever their ships meet, often only barely getting away with her life. Luckily she is not alone in her fight against Crom as another pirate captain Blackmane, also can't stand the guy. The two are close friends and even have flings from time to time though they never stay together long because they each have their own ships to look after and places they want to go. Their crews get along great however and they are almost like family. Abilities: Lukka might be short but she is also spicy! She is very skilled in using her two cutlass swords and can slash you to ribbons in seconds if you aren't careful. On top of that, she is very agile and fast, so it's hard to land a hit on her. She can produce blue crackling electricity from both her maw and her hands as well as draw it from her environment during a thunderstorm and sending it her enemies's way. She also has minor wind magic which allows her to create brief wind currents that can generate enough lift to allow her to lift off with her wings, as well as send short bursts of wind to knock a weapon out of someone's hand if they aren't holding on to it properly. Lastly, she is an amazing swimmer, being able to swim both fast and for long periods of time. She can hold her breath for up to a minute.

#Lukka #character ref

[cursedmystic]

The canvas that drew you over was blank at first, void of any thought, logic or reasoning. An empty slate. However the longer you stare, the more it comes to life and the more you are drawn in...

What do you desire? That was what was being written before your eyes.

The message bled, swirling over the canvas, overtaking your gaze until it is darkness.

You are in its hands. That thing from a time immemorial. A thing so powerful in its nameless was, that mankind had to drain some of its power by giving it a name.

The Black Fog. A god in its own right. A monstrous being that was now causing untold death and destruction. You are practically helpless in its grasp. There is nothing you could do...

What do you desire....? It's a creeping voice, a resonating sentence that echoes sweetly and poisonously.

A bright light saves you, freeing you from the monster. Cutting it's sinking claws into your body, your very soul. Claiming you, but no more.

Rainbow feathers now curl around you as an ethereal light emanates and blasts the darkness away, like something out of mythology. You are living them now, becoming part of it. Chosen by the golden bird of eternal happiness....

What is it that you desire...?

You...have to give this up. At least for now. It was a good dream, but that's all it is. An illusion. A mockery of one of your wishes. Not even Yuri had ever gone as far as do this to you, despite her powers. Empower you, yes. Pep you up. But never do something like this.

The empty promises of someone who did not know you invading your mind is a gross feeling, and you toss it off at the same time you toss aside the canvas, not containing an image. It depicted you and Ho-Oh standing together against the darkness.

What is it you desire? I can give it to you.

The voice is enticing, but false. There are others around you still trapped in the thrall of whatever was behind these canvases.

--thescarletmansion

This place knows what haunts him. The art room opens and everyone scatters to investigate -- and what draws him is a canvas of deepest inky black, like a hole in the world a person could climb through.

It drags him in like a claw, like a tongue lolling out of an infinite, infernal maw. An eye the size of a building turns to look at him and he's caught in a waking nightmare all over again. None of his Pokemon can stand against this thing older than time that has seen fit to claim him.

He can feel the stinging nettles of Jellicent's limbs in the exposed skin of his arms and neck, where the jellyfish tries to pull him from the vision, and all it does is remind him of the poison that had seeped through Saffron City.

As the nightmare sets him to trembling, there is a different sensation of claws digging into his shoulders and then lashing through the shadows in a bright spark of golden light. The wings overhead are a brilliant red and green and flash an array of colors impossible anywhere else in nature.

It's the brightening dawn overtaking the endless night. It makes him weak in the knees to see it and he staggers, which takes the canvas off the wall before him.

The image is empty. It's just black paint smeared across the canvas, with no meaning behind it, and he throws it to the ground.

It is something he wants, desperately and without relief, but it's not something he can count on in this case. He just. . .can't.

Jellicent warbles, frightened, and he insists the Pokemon let go of him. It leaves rash-like marks across his forearms and his neck, which he tightens his scarf to cover even as numbness spreads through him.

He should wake the others.

#:')) #;; event: scarlet mansion #thescarletmansion

[thenexusofsouls]

I feel like Stephen dying after Thanos snapped his fingers and then being brought back to life would only add to his survivor's guilt about what happened to his siblings. The three of them died but only Stephen had a second chance at life when Bruce brought everyone back. I feel really bad for him but it's so funny how he's literally more bothered by MANTIS than by any other alien, holy fuck Ebony Maw tortured him and he wasn't half as pressed. He really doesn't do well with his feelings huh?

{i am the caretaker of souls} Oh, Stephen and survivor's guilt go back MUCH farther than Endgame, yeah. Here, for those who don't know, I'll run over what I take from both the MCU and the comics as far as Stephen's background... and then run down why all of this affects his ability to deal with things emotionally.

So... the MCU version of his sister, Donna, had an ice skating accident when she was nine. She was with Stephen at the time, fell through the ice, and drowned. Losing her prompted Stephen to want to go into medicine, because he felt very powerless and never wanted to not have control over saving someone's life ever again. The scene was cut out of the movie, but I still consider it canon.

Later in life, if you draw from the comics, his mother got sick and died, and shortly thereafter his father became ill as well, but Stephen wouldn't go visit him because it was emotionally too difficult to keep dealing with loss after loss. After his father died, Stephen's brother Victor confronted him about his apparent lack of empathy and grief for their father. After a heated argument, Victor stormed out and walked right into an oncoming car, dying. So not only has Stephen survived both of his parents and two siblings, he feels responsible for not saving his sister and for causing his brother's death. The survivor's guilt here is real.

THEN... we get to post-Endgame, and you bet Stephen has some major survivor's guilt for half the universe, not only because he wasn't able to save them, but because of the way so many lives were still lost even after they were brought back. Suicides, accidents, displacements... like being brought back didn't mean everything was okay. So he had to see all around him the constant effects of how the lives of others were ruined by his failure, the way he saw it. And on top of that he got his life back when Vision and others like Tony and Natasha didn't, so... yeah.

And THEN... we get to DSMoM and so many sorcerers lost their lives at Kamar-Taj... and yes he blames himself for that too. Not just because of the survivor's guilt, yet again, but because he feels like he should've known about Wanda sooner, shouldn't seen the signs, or at least should've checked up on her well before the Hex even happened, let along her getting that corrupted by the Darkhold.

So much of this was not his fault or at least outside of his feasible control, but part of having a god complex also, ironically, means you imagine that you're way more in control that you are, so when bad things happen, you hyperfocus on it being your fault. It's not just about playing god or thinking you have more power, intelligence, control, etc. that other people, but it also means you imagine yourself more at fault for things that you actually are.

No, he really does not do well with emotions. They're frightening to him because they break his control. He can't fully control his own narrative as far as how others see him, what they think of him, etc., if his composure fails. Yes, Ebony Maw tortured him, and one could argue that it takes a decent amount of mental fortitude to get through something like that, but it's physical pain, mostly. He can focus through that. Like he always says, pain is an old friend of his. But emotional pain is something he can't dominate in his mind. It's something that's less understood by him, less able to be controlled, and therefore much more frighteningly unpredictable.

I could be taking a flying leap with my headcanons here, since I'm not a medical doctor or a sorcerer, but I am an environmental scientist, so I know the whole... college, grad school, internship, research, paper publishing, professional career cycle that Stephen would have went through. Part of where your confidence comes from when you're in a science field like that, is having a very strong background and basis of knowledge from studying and practice. You aren't afraid because you know what's coming, or at least you trust in your knowledge to know how to handle problems that arise. You trust that you can make the right decisions and do the right things because you've beaten every possible scenario to death in your mind a thousand times or they wouldn't let you do this shit in the first place, heh...

So as a doctor, I'm guessing he just knew he was capable and the fear melted away into confidence, muscle memory, and matter-of-fact bravado. But with emotional affairs... there is no playbook. No manual. No internships. No set way of handling things. So Stephen can't rely on book knowledge or experience because every emotional situation is different. It ensures that every time he goes into emotional combat, he starts out unarmed, in a sense, and some people are okay with that, they're intuitive and can feel out the situation. Stephen is not. He relies so heavily on practice and book knowledge because that's what he knows. Physical pain, as bad as it is, is predictable. It's a known. Emotions... are an unknown, and Stephen doesn't deal well with unknowns.

The combination of wanting to always be in control of himself and in any given situation, and of using practice and knowledge as a crutch while never fully developing his emotional intuition leaves Stephen very unequipped to deal with a lot of emotional situations that arise. And then when he can't deal with it, things like frustration, anger, arrogance, and impulsivity emerge. Almost... like a child, heh. If h can't control it or understand it, he rages against it... because it scares him. Collecting all these failures along the way and blaming himself for things that were either not his fault or that he needs to forgive himself for... really doesn't help him either.

#{ i am the caretaker of souls } ᵒᵒᶜ #muse: stephen strange

[tparker48]

Request for Save49

A tour guide would be out in the woods as he looked for the next big attraction to earn some money for his town. Their was lots of landscape as a rainforest stretched towards the rocky mountains in the distance, but even those wouldn't catch the attention of the tourists along. Desperate, he traveled deeper into the forest as he searched for the next best thing. But everywhere where he turned, he couldn't find anything they would draw an audience. That until he spotted a large temple that seemed to have its fire still lit. Entering inside, he looked around the area as gold and little trinkets spreads across the walls.

"Woah, look at this place. Its enormous. And this jewelry.." He aimed the torch along the walls. As he looked at the sparkling treasures. His eyes beginning to star up in the process as he thought about the profit he could bring in. But that thought would suddenly fade as then sounds of stomps began to thud from a shadow in the cave. Toes coming out from it as it glowed in the light.

"What's this? A little human scampering around my temple. He's either brave or foolish to come in here unannounced. But none the less" the voice echoed before a hand reached out for them. The tour guide had a split second to run as he darted for the. Entrance, but a hand blocked his path as another gripped at his legs. "At least you came just in time for dinner" their eyes illuminated as the fire shined through them. Their eyes meeting each other before a maw appeared from the dark. Their lips showing partially as the large tongue stuck out to retrieve them.

"Don't eat me!" The tour guide yelled upon his decent. The hand stopping just in time as he flick the surface of the tongue touch his hair. Moving away partially, the rest of the figures form would make its way from the darkness as it stood fully into the light. It was a giant of some kind as a stoned crown rested above their head.

"And why should I..." The giant said annoyed.

"I-if you do, you'd miss out on a grand opportunity...**ahem** one if great fortune"

"Great fortune" the giant mocked "take a look around this temple, these are great fortune. Much more than what you can offer" the giant licked his licked his lips as he got ready to open his mouth back up. "But at least it's worthy of a snack"

" wait wait! If food is what you want...I-I can get someone"

"What those table scraps you local eat? You're a funny one. But that's not enough to stop me from eating you" he lowered him closer as his the maw started to pass over the guide"

"No no! I know I can think of something! Just...uhh!"

"Deep breath now" the giant cooed.

"W-what if I got you tourist in exchange!" The tour guide yelled. Just moments before the light faded from the mouth. The fingers soon pulling him out as he met the giant's face once more.

"Come again"

" in exchange to exchange your temple...**ahem** I'll bring you tourist for you to do what you want"

"Hmm, a local That's willing to give others up to save his own skin... Hah! Who wouldn't even think of that. Oh this shall be a treat hahaha. Alright then little one, I'll bite" dropping them to the floor "if you bring me others, your end will be done. Simply bring them to that cave over there, got it"

"G-got it. I'll start working on them now!" The tour guide rushed as he bolted for the door.

"Oh and little one...if you're lying to me" the giant said as he saw the tour guide stop "it won't end very well for you" that response would shake them to their core as they felt their heart sink. Shaking it off, they went out of the cave as they ran all the way to the town. Preparing the materials for the giants pleasure.

That end of the week:

The rainforest would be filled with life as the bids chirped in the air. The trees would be block most of the suns light through its leaves. Illuminating bright streaks across the grass as the flowers swayed in the breeze. Walking near them, the tour guide would following the path he took from before as he held his equipment. A group of 8 tourist behind him as he guided them through the twisty branches.

"As you look around our lovely jungle, you'll be able to see the wonders of the wildlife that we have. From leopards to the tiniest centipede" the tourist said pointing toward the trees. Letting the tourist take some pictures as their looked behind them.

"Woahh, this place looks so beautiful" one of the tourists claimed as they looks at the light shining along their branches. Woth the swaying breeze, it made the rainforest look almost alive as the vines swayed in the place.

"Now, if you'll me, we shall go tour latest attraction" the tour guide ushered them to follow as he made his way down the path. The grass seemed to become thinner as the trees started to get shorter. Traveling further , the temple from before would be up ahead as the torches were still lit. "And this is our latest addition the grand temple of versai. This palace is known for its great treasure, one of which none have ever seen. Some say they were all collected by a being of some kind"

"A being you say? I never heard of this temple before. What kind of being is it"

"One that you don't want to cross that's for sure.." The tour guide muttered.

"What"

"U-uh nothing. To answer your question, im not sure myself. But in this cave, i think you may find your answer" his heart began to race as hesitantly waved then towards the cave the giant mentioned. Standing along the entrance, he pointed a hand towards it as he stepped to the side. "Please, have a look inside" he says with assurance. The tourist beginning to head inside as the eight of them grabbed a torch.

"Aren't you coming" one of them asked as they stopped.

"Oh, I've seen the images inside many times. You all take your time and explore" the tour guide said with a nervous smile.

"Hmm ...alright" they say with an eyebrow raised. But soon shrugged as they went inside. Shining the torch inside, he noticed the texture of the walls seemed to be different than the outside. Its surface was pink and..spongy. "Whoever has this place mad really didn't look at it from the inside" theybsaid as they followed the others.

"I'll say, the walls don't look very appealing. And think this stuff coating it is.." They placed a hand along the walls as they glossed over it. Pulling it away, a string of the white substance coating the walls would stick their hands. "Ugh, messy" Its form in itself was slick as it covered the walls. But when it got on their hands, its became thicker as it their hands started to stick together. "Where did he say though images were in here?" Fanning away the goop on his hands.

"He didn't say, but i'll sure we'll find it. Probably just around this..dead end" As they traveled further, the surface of the walls began to get more whiter as their feet started to splash amongst. In front, a wad of goop would block the passage way as a rhythmic beating sound lingering amongst the walls.

"Hey, tour guy! Did you know this was here?! What kind of attraction has a dead end before you get even meet the good stuff!"

"Nah, I knew i shouldn't purchased those tickets before looking at the brocure. This blows, let's go" one of the ushered the others as they started to turn back. Back the walls suddenly shifted. As the walls suddenly felt more jiggly. "Did you feel that?"

"Glad im not the only one. Hey tour guide, this cave is acting funny. Its nothing to worry about right?"

"..."

"Right?!" They yelled, but received no other response. Another shift would commence as it the ground lifted upwards. Tilting the path backwards four of the tourist landed towards the clumped surfacing. They forms became entangled amongst the goop as its form became stickier. Becoming more thick in process as their form started to sink deeper. "What is this stuff!" One of them yelled.

"Get this stuff off of me"

"Don't move, its probably quicksand. If you hold still we'll help you out" one of the towards said as they ushered the two more to held. They grabbed onto the tourist stuck in the goop as they tried pulling them out. But something seemed to be holding them down as there forms bobbed within the goop. They're becoming becoming more slicker as they hold began to faint.

"Its not working!" The last one said higher above. Hey tour guide! I know you can hear me! Get in here and help before we-" the walls started to make sounds against as the walls began to ripple. Gurgles following behind them before they turned into waves as they traveled further below. Bumping into the other tourists as the the ones helping them were dunked inside. The voices becoming muffled amongst the goop as the walls began to compresses. From what the last tourist could see, the walls crumpled around them as it seemed to settle down. Their yells for help lingering behind the fleshy walls as they movement were followed by squelches. "Holy.." **Shlorp!** The wall would cave inwards as their voices started to grow softer. White substance oozing from as bubbles began to form. "What kind of cave is this!"

"One That's delighted to have you inside"

"Huh?!" Before the tourist could react, the cave bucked upward as it launched the last tourist into the air. Catapulting them towards the bottom as it gaped open. The wadded substance would be gone, but a tube was there to meet them as they tumbled inside. Clawing around its spongy surface but was too slick to get a grip. "No!" Was the last thing they could muster as they saw the opening of the cave close. Leaving them in darkness as the walls carried him deeper.

On the outside, the tour guide would standing outside the entrance as the opening uprooted from the ground. Its opening reducing its size to thin gap as its musky air blew into him as it sealed. Rubble continued to trickle down its sides as the doors seemed to to.collapse. a pink shroom starting to replace as it skyrocketed upward. Flesh followed behind behind as wrinkled boulders swung in the middle. "You really outdone yourself little one. Well done bringing me your catch"

"I simply filled my end of the bargain. Nothing more"

"Ah that you did. The ones you brought are certainly impressive" stepping out of the shadows, the giant walked closer to the tour guide as he circled around him. His sac swaying between his legs as the held his shaft against his waist. As he looked closer, an outline of the last tour guide would be flowing down the length of the sac as it slowly slithered its ways down. He could barely hear their voice. But that ghostly face. Protruding from the wrinkly skin sent a chill in him. They slowed down once they got near the right orb of his sac. Their form sending out one last muffle before the giant pressed them inside with a thumb. "Mmm, my balls have never felt more fuller"

"So..is our deal done?"

"Yes its done"

"Great, then I shall-"

"However.."

"...wh..what"

The giant looked at his balls as he cupped the left orb into hand. Jostling it around as if to measure the contents inside. He soon picked up the other as he noticed it was slightly more heavier. "These tourists of yours are rather nice, but there feeling a little seperated in accordance to weight"

"What does that mean" he asked the giant, but resided a sudden smile frim him as they glared back at them. Making him take a step back as he felt his heart begin to race. "Giant! What does that mean?!"

"I think you already know what that means" the giant soothed reaching for him. This time not letting get any ground as he clasped over his upper half. Holding his grip, he brought the tour guide up to his shaft as he pinched his slit. Letting it gape a bit before he stuffed their legs inside. Easing him in, the tour started to struggle inside as swished his body between the giant's palm. Twisting and turning in the process before the giant pinned his thumb in the opening above. "Down you go, little one" he pressed his thumb down ontop of them as they quickly slid into the slit, but slowed as the now compressed muscle inside began to hug around them. The slit would close, but eir bulge wiggled in place at the top of the shaft as the their hand prints pushing into the thick skin. Barely stretching as they slipped back into their brace.

"Enjoy your tour inside me" the giant pressed a thumb down on them as he guide the bulge further inside. Hastening their speed to the base before mushing it into the hole below. With a flex, the shaft swallowed them past the base as it slowly dragged them down to his balls. The orb now becoming more plump as the little bulges returned along the surface. Giving his shaft a good rub, he walked over towards the walls as he rested upon it. Sitting down as he cupped his hand around both orbs. Watching them struggling inside as he shaft slowly went limp. "And like the rest of the treasure, your mine now" he smirked as he jostled his sack in place. Toying with it more as he felt them little one inside toss and turns into the walls.

[jaeheewillalwaysbemyfav]

so since you're gonna do the avatar!mc au with the entities you think each brother would fear the most (SO excited for that btw, my friend can attest to the fact that i've basically been rambling about tma x om nonstop since the first post you made that put the two together), i'd love to hear your thoughts on which entity each brother would *be* an avatar of, if you're cool with sharing! personally i love the ideas of specifically vast!levi and dark!belphie but i'd love to hear your takes on the concept! <3

So because of how time works, despite receiving this ask on July 12, by the time you see this it’ll be August! So the entire Avatar!MC series should be out by now, which I hope you will/have enjoy/ed. I wholeheartedly agree with the concept of Vast! Levi, which I’ve talked about before (as you know ;) ), but I will happily ramble about it again!

These aren’t gonna be short fics though bc I do Yearn to save that energy for The Longfic, which is still in the planning stages because a) I can’t pick a timeline, and b) trying to match up the timelines of Obey Me and TMA is hard, especially when I tend to have a violent disrespect for actually paying attention to the timing of plot events in both. I already fucked up a part of the plotting because I forgot the order we get pacts with the brothers lmao

Content warnings: Mentions/allusions to tma-typical Spookies, yet another installation of my Cursed Crossover idea, lengthy debates about what makes someone choose to become an avatar of fear, spoilers for Lesson 16+ of Obey Me and S5 of TMA

What Entity Do I Think The Brothers Would Serve? (Cursed TMA x Obey Me Crossover)

Lucifer

So I put him as falling victim to the Eye/Beholding bc of his whole thing about Secrets and Pride being about wanting control over your own image

And he does have a creepy tendency in canon to always know when his brothers are up to some Dumb Shit

BUT! You know what we see in Lucifer’s character that we see in a certain Entity?

A simultaneous manipulation of others and submission to being manipulated by a higher power

That’s right, I think Luci would be a Web avatar

But Winter, Lucifer wouldn’t wanna take marching orders from someone/thing else! He’s too proud for that— You’re right! He doesn’t want to. But he will.

He willingly submitted himself and his family to Diavolo for eternity to get what he wanted (saving Lilith)

And from how much we see him work, it’s safe to say that he’s a pretty damn essential part of running the Devildom

If he really wanted to, he could probably successfully pull a coup on Diavolo

But he doesn’t, because he’s trapped himself by his own honour code

Thus, the sexual tension bromance we all know and love/insist is Deeply Problematic and blacklist (depending on how much you like/hate dialuci lol)

10/10, would fill with spiders again

Mammon

I put Mammon as falling victim to the Buried for pretty obvious reasons

But admittedly picking a fear he’d serve is trickier

I had to get a bit abstract with it, but I think the Hunt might suit him

Not necessarily the primal *cough* and police brutality *cough* parts of the Hunt tho

More like how Basira was considered an avatar of the Hunt in the fearpocalypse because of her mission/promise to Daisy

See, Greed can stem from fear

Fear of losing what you have, of no longer being able to support yourself, of being preyed upon by others

So people become greedy as a defense mechanism, to protect what they have

If they’re on the offensive, they won’t be targeted

Also, if you’re constantly pursuing more more more, there’s no time to think about anything else

Like consequences, or guilt, or Feelings

If Mammon let his little tough guy act go too far for too long, I don’t think it’s too much of a stretch to say he could start heading down the path to avatarhood

After all, people pay big money for hitmen and bounty hunters…

Leviathan

As I said last time, I can see why people would associate Levi with the Lonely first: he’s a shut in, he acts like he wants nothing to do with people/would rather be alone, and I get it

BUT! All of that actually stems from the fact that Levi has terrible self-esteem and thinks he deserves to be this gross shut in loser

While envy can make you want to bring others down to your level, so to speak, Levi tends to just shun “normies”, not actively conspire to sabotage them

He actually does crave understanding and to have people in his life, he just doesn’t know how to go about it

Boy’s got Mega Social Anxiety is what I’m saying (funny how both the Lonely and the Eye can be real bad for that, huh)

But the Vast? Nihilism? Takes all the pressure off

If everyone is a small, insignificant speck in the face of an uncaring, unfathomably large cosmos, who cares what you do? Who cares what people think of you?

Yeah, you’d be kinda weird too if you stared into the infinite abyss of the ocean and realized it was just the maw of a gargantuan sea monster too, Karen, lay off

Plus aesthetically, the great Awful Deep most people fear in the ocean is a comfort to Levi

And again, THE VAST IS MORE THAN JUST THE SKY

I WENT ON A BOAT ONCE

LIKE REAL FAR OUT, SO I COULDN’T SEE LAND FOR DAYS

IT WAS JUST ENDLESS B L U E

AND I WAS ON A CRUISE IN THE CARIBBEAN

I SAW A FRACTION OF THE OCEAN’S S U R F A C E AND IT WAS I M M E N S E

Did you know we’ve only explored like 5% or whatever of our oceans? Think about that! Every Single Thing we know about what’s in there is just the tip of the iceberg!!! GOD KNOWS WHAT’S DOWN THERE!!! PROBABLY FUCKED UP FISH IS WHAT

*ahem* anyway, fishee

Satan

Another tricky boi

I marked him down as fearing the Desolation, as a reflection of what he fears most in himself

I probably could have also gone with Slaughter, but I’d say that’s more baby/early-Satan

Desolation is also about destruction of potential, and Satan has very carefully built himself into a non-rage-monster person

So tearing that all away from him is :)))

But what would Satan give himself over to?

Ceaseless Watcher, I want that twink OBLITERATED—

Satan clings to knowledge and erudition to distance himself from the rage he was born as

“Watch and learn” is literally how he became a person

I find it deeply funny that it could also easily be how he becomes a monster once again

Also if you think the avatar of Wrath wouldn’t have a use for supernatural blackmail you’re just straight up incorrect

Couple that with Satan’s various connections and he’d be a Force to Reckon With

Asmodeus

I put him as a victim of the Corruption bc I found it extremely fitting considering the duality of his romanticized image vs the “dirty” fluid-filled nature of Lust.

Lust can be really nasty, but as licentious as Asmo’s supposed to be, he’s surprisingly coy

(now part of that comes from the fact that Obey Me isn’t strictly 18+/full-on porn, but still)

There’s a lot of Interesting Ideas to unpack there with attitudes towards sex vs sensuality and idealisation vs reality

Now as for an avatar… I debated this for a very long time, tossing around Eye, Stranger, Spiral, even Web for like one second

But I think I’ve got it

Slaughter!

Specifically the musical/random outbursts of violence side (not so much the war side)

Why? Well for one, Biblical Asmodeus is said to “"transport men into fits of madness and desire [...] with the result that they commit sin, and fall into murderous deeds (Testament of Solomon, verse 23).”

But also, Obey Me Asmo’s affair with that portrait chick from the earlier lessons started a whole ass war

Like it or not, the boy is very good at instilling manic violence in people

They don’t call it bloodlust for nothing

Beelzebub

I paired Beel with an End avatar MC bc the boy fears losing his loved ones like he lost Lilith

You could argue that Desolation would fit there too but I liked how it fit Satan better

Now as for a Vibe…

I’m tied between Flesh and Corruption tbh

Though corruption is mostly bc buge :)

So I’ll talk about the Flesh

So uh, mass consumerism, meat is meat, cannibalism… see where I’m going?

Ignoring the Hans because that was super racist, the two Flesh avatars I remember best are Jared Hopworth and The Guy Who Stuck His Arm in a Spooky Meat Grinder To Feed His Buds

I think of Jared in relation to Beel not because of the gym thing, but because his very chill/apathetic attitude towards his patron is similar to how I’d picture Beel’s approach to all this

Like “well, guess I’m here now”

I love Beel as much as everyone else, but he’s not exactly apologetic about his… habits

Not to the degree that he’d actually try and change them anyway

So if he got started on the path to Flesh avatarhood, he’d be pretty fucked

Belphegor

I put Web for him as a fear almost entirely because of the concept of Uno Reverse Card, ngl

It does technically tie into his whole thing about being trapped in the attic, since he’d denied all agency and freedom in there, but… Uno Reverse

Dark!Belphie is an interesting concept, and MAG86 “Tucked In” is iconic, but tbh I don’t really… Get the Dark

Don’t get me wrong, put me in a dark place and I will be scared, I don’t like not seeing things, but I have a hard time wrapping my head around why one would become an avatar of the Dark

It’s not a very “primary” fear imo? Like, I’m scared of the dark bc I can’t see what’s there, ie. a threat could be there and I wouldn’t know, but intellectually I know it’s just the absence of light. That’s not really spooky on its own.

I guess what I’m saying is I can attribute spookier things related to the Dark better to other Entities, so I’m not sure what its draw is specifically

According to the Entity Sexiness Survey I did a while back, there’s apparently some Catholic stuff going on with the Dark so maybe that’s why i don’t get it lmao

Anyway I’d put Belphie down for Spiral

“What lies behind a smile” indeed cowboy

Apparently it’s getting choked

Is it because MC’s entire relationship with him is originally founded on a lie?

Is it because the Spiral deals with distortions in your perception, gaslighting gatekeeping girlbossing, as well as foggy liminal mental spaces like between sleep and consciousness, death and life?

Is it because I think Belphie would absolutely delight in driving someone bananas by fucking with their dreams until it bleeds into their waking life?

Is it because being a person or consistent being at all is too much effort, consistent internal geography is hard, fuck it, just be an endless twisting series of hallways?

Yes :)

#obey me #tma #cursed tma x om crossover #obey me headcanons #tma the entities #lucifer #mammon #leviathan #satan #asmodeus #beelzebub #belphegor

[jackarychaoti]

DWC2021-15 - Memory/Chase

TW: Blood | Body Horror | Disturbing Images

-[ MUSIC ] -

Insanity.

In Azeroth, it was known as The Madness, The Darkening, the Dragon’s Sickness... The Nightmare. In many worlds, in millions of languages, it had endless names but it always meant the same thing. A corruption, often brought on by nightmarish feelings or situations, that ate the being alive, twisting it into something else entirely. Dragons fell particularly hard to such a toxic curse, especially.

This was no exception.

“DO NOT LET HIM GET INTO THE FOREST, WE’LL FUCKING LOSE HIM FOREVER!!”

Lokitan screamed as a mere handful of the Heran army raced upon war-bred Granondo, a clove-hooved type horse with coiled horns, best used to ram incoming enemies. Terrifyingly fast creatures that feared nothing in the heat of battle and yet they could not quite keep up with the terror streaking through the rotting fields of a dying wasteland and seemed even less inclined to get anywhere near it.

The target they hunted was a slithering creature running on all fours, bones twisted and inhuman with long tendrils of muddied hair, making the thing look even more sickly in the way that it hung over the face. Now and then, piercing silver eyes would dart back to see just how much closer its pursuers had come in the wild hunt, noting the way the warriors had begun to flank it. If only it could reach the edge of the forest, the beast would have a far better tactical advantage and a speed increase, let alone an easier time to attack those that hunted it.

“Loki!” A voice called out and soon a female rider pushed her steed up to the Dread Prince himself, eyes narrowed, glancing over in his direction. Fire blazed all around her, the snowy locks of her hair wild and free as a hellish set of crimson eyes flitted to the dark-haired rogue. “What do we do if it gets to the forest before we can reach him?!”

“You pray to your mother that we take him down before that.”

Chaos.

It was absolute chaos and he had just told her to pray to the deity that created it.

Inch after inch, Lokitan pressed forward, signaling the General’s finest men to continue flanking the beast, heels dug in harder into his skeletal Granondo to push onward and finally close in the distance of the skittering cretin running on all fours. Once close enough, the agile Prince pushed himself to crouch atop the saddle; he lunged, flickering through the very shadows to reappear right on top of the nightmarish beast. He dared not draw a weapon.

Not against this one.

The clashing form was greeted by the muddied, anemic animal twisting itself to bite hard at its would-be attacker, using the momentum to kick Lokitan right off and send him flying. That mere few seconds to protect itself was costing its safety to get into the forest. A loud shrieking cry pierced through the veil of carnage, knowing the chase was quickly coming to an end. Claws grabbed at the deep red mud below, years of war and corpses all around, the thick blood of countless soldiers meshed together with protected soils and painful, bitter rain. The slick surface had the creature try another attempt to break free, slipping the first few steps.

It was so close… The forest was but a hundred yards away.

Lokitan rolled through the slimy fighting ground, catching himself to snag at the beast’s ankle, yanking it back to throw it in the other direction. He was doing all he could to buy the warriors more time to position themselves and close in on the fighting pair.

“It doesn’t have to be this way, Jack.”

Melted silver raised from under the long strands of hair while the beast hunched itself further, a deep snarl and razored fangs revealed themselves in a warning. The aggressive display had Loki push himself to stand and raise his clawed hands, exposing that he was as unarmed as he could possibly be. He stared down at the nightmare-fueled version of his cousin, his best friend who he knew was in so much pain that he had allowed the darkness to consume his heart.

“Look at me, Jackary… I don’t want to hurt you, hn..?”

There was a brief pause and for a moment, the world stood still. Even the droplets of sweat and foul mud froze in place for a fraction of a second while the thing Lokitan referred to as ‘Jackary’ mulled over its choices. Heavy breaths of air pushed out, bellowed in smoke pouring from its twisted jaw that was filled with acidic drool that flopped to the ground in large globs - a clear sign of the beast’s stress.

“Let’s get you home… Let’s get cleaned up…” A leather-clad hand dared to reach for the unholy creation but within a blink of an eye, time sped back up. Teeth snapped at the grasp, claws raised to full-on attack the one being that kept the beast from the forest it was trying to get to.

“FUCKING--!” Loki found himself head to head with the writhing mass of acid-spitting, half-transformed wyrm, a Beast of Insanity that wore a Prince’s crown and who was upsetting the balance of life and death. Without one, there couldn’t truly be another. Every snap of the jowls and swipe of talons was blocked or barely dodged, up until Lokitan lost his footing.

Slipping, he found himself under those wild jaws, hands clasped the wide-open maw above him that threatened to clamp down on his face and bite his skull clean in half. Muscles ached, his posture shook from trying to push what was once his peaceful, loving cousin off him. It wasn’t until another bubbling mixture of acid was seen dripping from under the beast’s tongue that the rogue knew he was in deep trouble… He was going to have to hurt the beast or die.

One hand released the mouth and in a split-second decision, the palm shoved up hard to strike at the creature’s jawline, his intensely sharp claws sliced the beast’s right jaw, stunning and pushing it away, jarred in surprise. It left Lokitan with just the smallest leeway to raise his hand up in the air, giving a hidden signal.

The Insanity-addled creature hissed loudly but before it could turn to lunge the last few steps to disappear into the forest and become a haunting ghost, a slough of chains and ropes fell atop it, blanketing the wild creature. The engineered nets implanted themselves into the dirt below, radiating pulsations of electrical charges to stun the captured beast into a horrifying submission. The haunting screams of agony, half-human, half-dragon rang out in a near ear-shattering volume.

Only when it stopped struggling to even stand did the shocking currents of energy cease their barbaric, but effective, handling.

“Are you hurt?” The woman from earlier charged forward, sliding down from her fiery warsteed to help Lokitan up from the wet earth.

“No,” Lokitan spat out, snagging the hand to be hoisted up, wincing when it indeed hurt to put any sort of weight on one of his legs. Glancing down at it, he was sure there was likely a fracture somewhere... But now wasn’t the time to dawdle.

“Well, you’re not dead, dear brother, so…” Musing, she helped at least support the Dark Prince, glancing down at the wheezing, now bleeding beast. “This isn’t curable, you know. When someone falls to the Insanity, they don’t come back.”

“Untrue,” Loki quipped, hobbling over with his sister’s help until he was able to ease down and sit next to the captured animal. A gloved hand reached forward, pushing the black hair from its face to indeed reveal a half transformed Jackary, the silver spiral of his eyes a dead giveaway at the corruption. “There was a Priest once who fought it and contained it. Rumour has it he wanders around with a single spiral eye, hn? Fucked up shit.”

The woman sighed, almost huffing while a hand motioned down to what remained of Jack. “Look at him, Lokitan. Half transformed, his brain isn’t fucking in there anymore. Put the thing out of its misery and let the avatar of Life be passed down elsewhere. It’ll rebirth by tomorrow, save your own ass.”

“No.” Lokitan took a moment to grip the skull before him, pinning the dragon further as a small crimson glow overtook his eyes. “He was never meant to hurt anyone, it was her that drove him to this.”

“Yeah, well, she’s pretty fucking dead, now isn’t she?”

A hand waved the antsy woman off, freeing Lokitan to simply focus on the inner workings of the beast before him. It was a rare trick the Rogue had up his sleeve and normally it was used to delve into someone’s memories, to unlock what terrifies them the most to use it against them… But what if, he thought, what if he could use it in reverse?

Time ticked by, allowing the dark, shadowy tendrils of his own essence to seep into Jackary’s form, filtering through and plucking every little bit of the corruption to neatly gather it within. A simple box was made at first, deep inside the dragon’s brain. Soon it was locked away and chained relentlessly to his psyche. A personality that he could never escape from, one that in time, would briefly show a fraction of itself and be referred to as…

Naga.

“M’sorry…” Loki whispered while he worked, remolding and melding Jackary’s very essence and memories to pull him from an otherwise impossible return. It was an attempt to do this or be forced to kill him and Lokitan wasn’t sure he inwardly had the power to do that. “You were designed to never forget.. But if you always remember, there is no saving you from the corruption that has been planted within you.”

Lokitan frowned, rubbing his thumb slowly, sweetly along Jackary’s forehead, the beast had long since stopped trying to fight back. It was lethargic.

“I am taking this from you, Jackary. This thing that turned you into something you aren’t.” Lokitan cooed, almost fondly at his twisted cousin as each memory leading up to a certain event was plucked and stolen away and yet what Lokitan hadn’t realized was that in making such a small hole in Jack’s memory, it served as an endless void. A slow-drip leak that would cause him to forever forget things after a while. A blessing and a curse in the future, but at that moment, when Lokitan gazed down and saw the beginnings of Peridot return to those eyes, he knew it was the best decision he could have made.

---

Darnath quietly clamped the journal closed with a small squeeze to the spine, the entry had been written in a far different font and form which made him think that perhaps Lokitan had written it instead. But... Where the memory that had been stolen was placed was beyond the Dragonsworn.

Stormy grey pools glanced at the snoozing blond curled against his side. Jack, in an elven form, had been cozying up for a small nap while his Knight read, blissfully unaware of what haunting stories Darnath had been refamiliarizing himself with once more. The Champion glanced to the spine of the journal, noting the number upon it, and raised his vision upward. The book he was really looking for must have been the one right before this… Maybe that one held the answer he was looking for.

| - @daily-writing-challenge - |

#DWC2021 #DWC 15 #Jack Facts #A memory long since pased #in the beginning #lokitan #Darnath #Dragonsworn #TW: BLOOD #TW: DISTURBING IMAGES #TW: BODY HORROR

[shera-dnd]

And we're back again with some high quality knight's and magic shit. I put my...girl?...boy? Let's go with girl for now, anyways I put Weiss through a lot, but I let her cut a fireball in half so I think we're even.

The sky was beautiful that night, not that it did much to improve Weiss’s situation, but laying on the ground like she was, watching the night sky was the only thing she could really do. Of course she had rid herself of the roots and vines already, but she simply lacked a reason to rise from the ground anymore.

Perhaps in the morning Lady Blake would return and find her still laying there, unmoving, then the knight would ask her what had happened, and Weiss would have to explain everything to her. Weiss...did not look forward to that. Maybe she should have let the roots drag her down.

No, if she did that then people would start searching for her, and if they found out what happened to her then they’d hunt down Lady Ilia.

Oh, Weiss, you fool.

Even after everything you still want to protect her.

Of course she does. Of course she wants to protect Ilia, she meant the world to Weiss, and she had picked this night to tell her so. But once again things did not go the way she planned. The worst part was that Ilia loved her back, she truly did, but that only made her resent and hate Weiss, as if she had somehow manipulated Ilia into loving her.

Weiss wanted to be angry, wanted to hate Ilia back, but she couldn’t. For all the years that her father spent trying to teach her to be as hateful as he was, all it took was a few days among people who truly cared for her, for her to learn how to love instead. Now she wished she didn’t, because no one told her that love could ruin her.

No, this was unlike her, she shouldn’t be letting something like this drive her to inaction. She picked up the broken pieces of herself and put them together long enough for her to at least have dinner and then collapse in her tent.

It took some effort to achieve this, a great part of it used simply to keep herself from thinking about how this meal was made for two, but eventually she managed to put enough food in her body that she would not starve, and began the long drag towards her tent. She did not expect to sleep much tonight, but it wouldn’t do to stay outside and become sick from the exposure.

“Weiss.”

She didn’t know when her eyes had closed or when sleep had taken her. She knew only that it was still dark outside and that someone had called her name. Or perhaps not, perhaps that had been just part of some half forgotten dream. It had felt real enough to wake her up, but now that she was awake she questioned that it even happened.

“Weiss.”

That got her to stand. She stepped out of the tent and began looking around. It still felt strange, as if she had imagined it, but it was still louder and more real than before. Was this also a dream? It was infuriating that she couldn’t quite put a finger on what was happening.

“Weiss!”

Now that was real. A terrified wail, a helpless cry. Someone needed her help. No, not someone, it was Ilia. That was her voice, calling her from within the forest. Weiss didn’t question it, she didn’t stop to think, she had to help her now. She grabbed her sword and quickly dashed for the woods without a second thought.

“Weiss! Weiss!”

Her voice continued to cry, the wind carrying it an impossible distance as Weiss followed its call. It was Ilia’s magic, she thought, she was calling the winds to carry her cries for help.

She didn’t know of the other fae in these woods.

She didn’t know they had played this trick before.

Even then would she really stop to question it? Would she really risk it when the woman she loved called for her help? No, she wouldn’t. So she ran through hidden trails, and down non-existent paths. She leaped from shadow to shadow, through roots and branches, until she reached a place humanity had never touched.

And then the sound stopped.

All sound stopped. It was as if the forest had been put under a spell, or perhaps as if Weiss had left the forest altogether, and this clearing was its own world, displaced from her own. She, unfortunately, wasn’t afforded time to question those things any further.

“Lady Weiss Schnee,” a voice greeted her from among the trees.

“It is so nice of you to grace us with your presence,” another followed.

Her hand reached for the hilt of her sword instinctively, though she did not draw it yet. Cautiously she studied the woods around her, trying to find the origin of their voices.

“You wouldn’t draw iron upon your hosts, now would you?” The first voice taunted.

“And our little sister spoke so highly of you,” added the second.

“Ilia!?” She exclaimed without thinking, “where is she? What have you done to her?”

The voices cackled, their laughs melding into each other, into a single discordant sound that echoed through the once silent woods.

“Ilia?” The first voice mocked, “I don’t recognize that name, brother.”

“Do you know who that is, sister Amitola?” The other asked.

“That’s me,” came a weak response from behind her.

Weiss quickly turned around, finding that where once was a tree, now sat the bound form of Ilia’s true self. Her arms and legs were tied, her wings had been charred and burned, and her skin glowed a depressive blue.

“Ilia!” She called, rushing to her side and releasing her as fast as she could.

“Weiss,” she replied, her white eyes now full of hurt, “please go away.”

“I’m not leaving you,” Weiss insisted.

“This is a trap, you idiot!”

As soon as her arms were freed she grabbed a hold of her savior and pulled her down, both of them rolling out of the way of a jet of flames. When Weiss managed to regain her composure she was greeted by the sight of the most terrifying creature she ever laid eyes on.

It towered over the both of them, a mass of orange and white fur, with a maw that still let out smoke. Its four eyes scanned the clearing, each pair of them moving separately from the other, before they all focused on Weiss and Ilia on the ground.

It opened its mouth and the first voice spoke, “I thought you wished to help us, sister Amitola.”

Ilia flinched at that name.

“All you had to do,” the second voice spoke through that same mouth, “was lay down and let you both die.”

Flames spilled out of the fae’s mouth and Weiss barely had time to draw her blade. Iron struck against fire, and the magic that sustained it was ripped apart, killing the flames before they could do them any harm.

“I will not let you hurt Lady Ilia any further,” Weiss declared, sword pointed at that fire breathing monstrosity.

“Look at you, so eager to die for her,” laughed the second voice.

Weiss took the offensive, jumping forward with a stab of her blade. The fae dodged aside and swiped at her, but she had already retreated to Ilia’s side. They had range on her, but she had speed and iron on her side.

“She tricked you,” taunted the first voice as they sidestepped another attack.

Stab.

“Lied to you.”

Slash.

“Betrayed you.”

She split another fireball in half, anger rising in her with every word of her assailants.

“Why risk death in her name? A name that isn’t even her own,” the voices taunted together.

“Because I love her!” She shouted, slicing forward. It was as if her own words had spurred fate to her aid as her sword finally connected, burning an arc across the fae’s arm. “And I will defend her with my life if I have to!”

She heard a gasp coming from behind her, but she could not turn to see what Ilia’s reaction had been, she could only hope it wasn’t more hurt. Meanwhile the gestalt being scurried back and growled in anger. The sound was horrifying, two voices joined together, only growing more unsettling as it morphed into laughter.

“You love her?” The voices laughed and mocked, “and you think love will save you? You think this is some sweet story of knights and princesses? You think yourself some galant hero?”

Though they cackled, Weiss stayed resolute, sword firm in her hand and gaze locked on her foe. This was, perhaps, her biggest mistake, as it left her blinded to the spell the fae had weaved around her.

“We know what you are, Weiss Schnee,” they spoke, that name sounding like poison in their tongue, “you’re no hero. You’re just a pathetic little princess, playing pretend.”

Now that made her snap. She launched forward with wild abandon, swinging and stabbing without a hint of caution. The fae, for their part, only cackled louder and louder as they evaded every blow, their amusement only feeding into Weiss’s anger. Her reckless assault only came to a stop as she felt something snag under her and tripped her.

She cursed as her body hit the ground with force, her sword escaping her grip. She turned back to see what had caught her, and for a moment she worried she might have hit her head too hard. Her boots had been turned into heels, her pants and shirt had disappeared, replaced instead with an elaborate blue and white dress, and her vest had given way to a light shawl bearing her family’s crest.

Unnerving couldn’t begin to describe the feeling of seeing herself like this.

After being allowed to live her dream for weeks, to have herself forcefully dragged back to that gilded cage, it unsettled something deep within her. She felt panic rise as her breathing grew more uneven. She had to calm herself, she had to control herself or her and Ilia would be dead.

It was unfortunate then, that her foe planned to grant her no such reprieve.

“What is wrong, princess?” The voices mocked, a massive paw landing between her and her sword.

No no no, this wasn’t happening. She--She was a knight, she had trained her whole life for this, she was meant to fight people like them. She wasn’t weak, she wasn’t helpless, she wasn’t a princess!

Fire spewed from the creature’s maw, bathing the ground in it. Weiss barely had the time or awareness to roll away, her mind still caught in a spiral of ever growing panic. And those accursed fae could only laugh as they watched her suffer.

A large claw swiped at her, though it barely scraped against Weiss’s skin as she jumped away, the wound it left still bled and the force still sent her face first against a nearby tree. A second strike soon came to finish what the first started, but it was stopped short by a cloud of glowing butterflies.

Dozens of the magical insects swarmed over them, forcing them back as the fae swiped uselessly at them. Before they could even begin to deal with the swarm, a smaller fae had tackled them to the ground with all her might. Ilia had freed herself and had come to Weiss’s rescue.

She slammed her hands to the combined entity’s chest and urged the earth to take them back, calling upon the roots to bring them down with them. For a moment it had worked, but then the twins opened their mouth and fire engulfed both insect and root alike. Ilia had been lucky to escape this uncinged.

“After everything you still choose this human?” The voices growled as they stood back up, “the Schnee girl who saw you as nothing more than a tool for her redemption? Is this who you choose to die for, Amitola?”

“Yes!” She shouted back, “now be quiet!”

She had nowhere near their physical strength or destructive power, but this fae still had claws, and she wasn’t gonna let them hurt Weiss any longer. She jumped at them, climbing onto their back and clawing at them with a rabbid fury.

The twins growled as they were sent stumbling back. Though she caused them both severe pain, Ilia was still much smaller, her claws weren’t made for taking down something that size. A hand that was easily bigger than her whole head, grabbed at what remained of her mangled wings and slammed her forcefully to the ground.

Their mouth opened again, ready to reduce the smaller fae to ash, but were brought to a stop by a large branch striking the side of their face with enough force to crack it in half. They howled as they backed away, rage was clear in their eyes, but the gaze they made was unflinchingly resolute.

Weiss stood tall, even in that stupid dress, her shawl had been ripped appart and wrapped around her hands, and she held what remained of that branch as if it was the noblest of blades. Even in the guise of a princess, she stood like a knight.

“You may insult me, humiliate me, you may even question my honor,” she declared, gaze unwavering as she approached the hulking creature, “but you’re a fool if you think you can harm Lady Ilia in my presence.”

The fae cackled, insults ready to spew out like their flames, but Weiss was quicker and she had no more patience for their trickery. The branch sliced at their eyes before the first word could escape their mouth.

“My lady was right,” she added, “you two should stay quiet.”

Were there any bards to witness this battle then they would have certainly sung of Weiss’s bravery, of her resolve, and of her devotion to both her love and her cause. They would sing of how she bested the fae with unmatched skill and unparalleled wits. Though the first part is certainly accurate, in truth Weiss’s skills hardly applied to this situation, and there was only so much anyone could do to something that big when armed with nothing more than a particularly sharp stick.

Still Weiss was set on besting Ilia’s assailants or dying to buy her time to escape, and that seemed more than enough to keep her fighting on.

She plunged the branch into one of the fae’s four eyes, causing it to howl in terrible pain. Though a victorious thrill ran through the knight’s body, she was promptly reminded of her foe’s sheer might and size as a large claw slammed against the side of her body, launching her against a nearby tree with terrifying force.

Once again fire began to spew, ready to engulf Weiss whole, and once again it was Ilia who saved her.

“Catch!” She shouted as she tossed Weiss her sword, and the magical inferno was unmade under the touch of iron.

Her blade sang and her feet drove her forward, iron met flesh with a deadly puncture, but the fae still stirred. They grabbed hold of her side, claws digging into skin as they tried to force her back. But Weiss was undeterred, she took one last step forward, driving Myrtenaster into their heart, like a nail into a coffin.

And so they slumped to the ground, black smoke escaping their wounds.

Weiss fell to her knees not long after.

“Weiss!” Ilia cried, as she rushed to her side, holding her before she could hit the ground.

“Ilia,” she muttered, weakness taking over her body as the adrenaline left her, “are you hurt?”

“Am I hurt?” Ilia asked with a nervous laughter, “Weiss, you’re bleeding.”

“But are you well?” She insisted.

“Yes, you absolute fool,” she answered, worry and exasperation in her voice, “I’m well.”

“Good.”

Ilia was safe, that was all that mattered. Not her wounds, not her blurring vision, and certainly not her blood loss. What mattered was that her love was safe, and nothing else.

She closed her eyes and, with a smile on her face, was taken away to the land of dreams.

#rwby #prismatic ponytails #weiss schnee #ilia amitola #medieval au #fanfic

[collisiondiscourse]

i have decided i am now going to blow up your inbox bc i csn i’m sorry codi focnnf

b u t!! anyway i’m going to rambling abt my new dad for all au [whixh was the au i sent you that ask abt]

alrighty so all might is now midoriya’s dad. that’s a thing. i like to think that inko and toshinori were high school sweethearts who broke up after graduation but met again when all might was called to recuse some hostages and inko was one of them!! anywho all might recuses her, they go on a coffee date, realize they’re still in love and start again

they get married and have izuku, who keeps inko’s maiden name [midoriya is now inko’s maiden name bc i do what i want]. he’s the cutest baby who has inko’s green hair, but has one blue and one green eye! [these are /important/] inko and all might talk abt maybe giving izuku all for one when he’s older, but they decide against it bc they don’t know if he’ll have a quirk or not

spoiler!! bitch baby has a quirk!! he gets a quirk that’s so much different than inko’s quirk and !!! ahhh!!! the basic explanation is that all might’s all of one genes mixed and then “corrupt” inko’s like 3 generation quirk-having genes or smth and izu has a very, very complex quirk now. it’s called astron, and astron allows him to fucking astral project into the center of the university and shit chxnc

astron works two different ways: using his blue eye he can project other people into his own personal astral plane and do whatever he wants. while the person’s physical body is still where it was, their mind is in the astral plane. if he uses his green eye, he can project himself to his astral plane and fuck around without consequences!!

[there’s an untold third ability of astron using both of his eyes, but izuku tried doing that when he first got his quirk and immediately fell into a coma for like a month? it was bad and his mind couldn’t handle the stress and dipped lol]

ANYWAY, izuku grows up with a bomb ass quirk and still has his kacchan with him thru his childhood so things are a lot different than canon? the wonder duo are little shitheads together and i love them, they wreck havoc and i love them

i have more ideas for this story but this is all i have for now, codi this is so long i’m sorry i’m blowing up ur inbox 🥺😭

me opening my askbox and seeing the length of this au: holy shit

me reading the actual whole au: HOLY SHIT

AJ I LOVE THIS HIGHKEY!!! I LOVE THE IDEA OF OP DEKU W A FUCKED UP QUIRK JUST TERRIFYING EVERYONE HE COMES ACROSS!!!! heterochromia is SO so good as a character design element and i LOVE THE WAY THIS IS IMPLEMENTED YELLS. I WANNA DRAW THIS SO BAD!!! THIS LOOKS SO COOL

(serious writing/plot below - blood and vomit mention)

oh god and now im imagining deku like. being this extremely feral and annoying lil shit whos extremely powerful and now bakugous got someone on his level so hes a lot more humble as hes growing up but also him and deku are the?? BESTEST OF FRIENDS. and i imagine when bakugou is being a little shit deku just. astral projects him out of his body for a while and apologizes to whoever kacchan yelled at LMFAO---bakugou comes back to his body and is all like “....fucks sake stop doing that”

AND THEN omfgkjfds imagine morally grey deku who does whatever he can to win?? he knew he wouldnt get into UAs hero course fair and square (all might offered him a recommendation but he declined because he wanted to get there on his own with kacchan) because robots didnt have souls he could astral project so he practices his quirks limits like YEARS prior and he tells bakugou about it but never rlly shows him but on the day of the entrance exam?

he shows up. everything goes as normal and he finishes the written exams and then moves on to the practical exam (still seperated from kacchan like in canon) and like. Every one goes dashing forward and deku doesnt really try to beat anyone. He waits until theyre all in the center engaging with robots when he walks to the center of the room.

and he sees the zero pointer in the distance.

“THE ZERO-POINTER’S HERE!” He yells and points at the gigantic mech heading their way. All at once everyone’s heads whip up to catch sight of the robot, enraptured by its sheer size and power. 

As they all look to one direction, Deku makes eye contact with them and smiles.

All at once, every single participant in the area goes limp. Astron throws their souls into the astral plane with little fanfare and everyone watches in awe and annoyance as their bodies uselessly crumple to the ground from the outside. The green-haired boy is suddenly given free reigns of the arena and they seethe as one by one he deactivates or disables robots that were once under their purview.

(What some of the smarter ones notice however, is the way he seems to be leaving some stray 3 pointers untouched... almost as if he was doing the calculations in his head as he goes... on how to ensure the number one spot while others can still score points...?)

One by one however, they start struggling and reaching to reconnect with their bodies. Their gleaming bright souls bob up and down with frenzied energy and Deku feels it. He feels it like itches on his skin and goosebumps that turn into hills that dance up and down his back. He feels it like he feels his limit reaching.

Its still around 10 minutes though before he actually loses control and everyone comes back to their bodies. His quirk times out and almost like its angry, the astral plane takes his body in exchange for the dozens he kept in there. He gets sucked through and passes out while everyone else runs and destroys the remaining bots. It doesn’t matter though, because he knows he’s racked up enough points to stay on top. He lets himself rest and observes the blue-haired tall guy with engines who contemplates carrying Deku’s body to safety.

Until, he sees her.

Just under some rubble and very close to getting crushed by the Zero-Pointer’s foot, Deku spots a brown-haired young girl that he recalls has some kind of floating quirk. He sees as everyone runs past her, prioritizing their own safety instead of hers.

He makes a decision.

Quickly--recklessly, a familiar gruff voice says in his ear--he forces himself back into his body and looks around. He runs to the girl and attempts to dig her out from the rubble before she gets crushed. The robot comes ever closer.

Using the little strength and flexibility he’s learnt from years of sparring with Kacchan, Deku abandons her in favor of climbing up the broken concrete and metal to meet the robot’s visor. He knows he won’t save her by digging her out of there, but by god is he gonna let her get injured without a fight. These robots weren’t designed to kill, but they were designed to destroy.

Focus. Focus and listen to what’s around you, Izu-kun.

The world around him reduces to tunnel-vision and suddenly Deku is face to face with the Zero-Pointer. It stops, as if calculating how to discard of Deku without hurting him severely with its own strength.

Everything has life in it. You only need to focus and look for it.

Izuku Midoriya looks at the robot.

In a whirlwind of blue and green, he reaches inside of himself and searches for life. Cold steel and hard-wired code meet his gaze and he plunges even deeper. 

Focus.

Then all at once, everything in his visions snaps into sudden clarity, like he’s never seen before. He feels everything. Sees Everything. Smells, tastes, hears--and he hears how the metal beneath him bends and groans. He feels how it winces and shudders. He sees it as it opens its maw and its visor bends in a facsimile of eyes, pleading him as if asking how?

The robot beneath him comes to life and stumbles back.

Quickly, he scrambles to the nearest ledge which happens to be a broken support beam. Distantly, he thinks he feels his arm being sliced open on the edge of it and the warmth of blood streaming down his side as he nearly falls. 

“HEY! YOU WITH THE ENGINES!” He hoarsely screams to the still remaining, slack-jawed contestants. “I CAN’T KEEP THE ZERO POINTER DOWN FOR LONG! GO HELP THE GIRL AND TAKE HER TO SAFETY NOW!”

With a sudden burst of energy, the fellow participants start taking others out from the rubble while the blue-haired boy helps the brunette he was protecting earlier. As he watches them clear the rubble to drag her out, he feels a pang.

Who am I? a lost voice calls out. It’s raspy and almost-robotic sounding and only he can hear it. Where am I? What am I?

And Deku’s vision flickers.

In and out, he sees flashes through eyes that aren’t his. He hears voices that are simultaneously faraway and way too close for comfort. The world tugs at the sides of his perspective and a strain is pulling at the back of his head tearing his brain to shreds. He doesn’t know what he’s focusing or straining on, except that its working and keeping the zero-pointer down.

He grits his teeth. “Hurry the hell up! i can’t do this any longer--”

Bursts of pain appear behind his mismatched eyes and he wants to scream so bad and if he were looking any clearer he’d see the way that the zero-pointer thrashes on the ground in time with the pounding on his skull. Bile crawls up the back of his throat and Deku screams.

“SHE’S CLEAR! YOU CAN LET GO NOW, MIDORIYA-SAN.”

Izuku lets go and his vision goes black.

#ASKDZVJFXKS OK THIS TOOK. #A LOT LONGER THAN INTENDED #ok so gthis has plot now and now im thinking of. writing this actually #i love this au so much thank u aj i hOPE YOU DONT MIND THAT I WROTE FOR IT??? im sO SORRY?? #anyway have more of my writing its unedited and garbage\ #asks #yeets your boy #collisioncomrades #bnha #boku no hero academia #mha #my hero academia #deku #izuku midoriya #midoriya izuku #long post #cw long post #long post cw

[secret-engima]

Ardyn doesn't know his own strength and accidentally helps Niflheim topple Insomnia like, eleven years too early. So he scoops his tiny would-be killer out of the rubble and smuggles him to the Nox Fleurets, presumably to stash for a few years--only, Tenebrae soon falls too, with the rumors of them harboring Prince Noctis (who the Emperor rather badly wants dead, as the Crystal still. won't. accept. him). So now Ardyn has to figure out how to semi-raise Noct into something NOT hopelessly (1/2)

alyss-spazz-penedo

said:

(2/2) civilian and strong enough to fight the gods and fulfill the Prophecy, even as he definitely still hates the child and would quite enjoy seeing him suffer. On Noct's part, he totally knows who Ardyn is and what he wants (thanks Luna), and sure he's glad he wasn't cut down in the raid on the mansion but he's SO unhappy to see Ardyn again.

Me: Oh my word do you even KNOW how angsty I could make this ask? DO YOU EVEN KNOW????? Of course you do you just want to see me suffer.

But just- this could get SO DARK. So abusive. So brutal and even though I would not go full dark there’s still so much ANGST no matter how you look at it.

The worst part is I actually have a bby AU very much like this. Does anyone remember the slightly unstable Imperial!Noctis that showed up in my All Nocti Dissidia AU blurb?

This is basically him.

A Noctis who grew up having lost his home TWICE. First Insomnia, then Tenebrae, both to the same Empire and the same Accursed, and then the Accursed had to RAISE HIM and it was- it was hard. It was brutal. Ardyn raised this Noctis to be a weapon strong enough to destroy him, a politician cunning enough to overthrow him, a scientist smart enough to outthink even Besithia. His only light was Luna, who Ardyn allowed to visit to keep Noctis on his “destined path”, and partially Aranea, who drifted into the young “Chancellor’s Nephew” orbit out of happenstance and then later pity, because she could see the brittle sharp glint in the boy’s eyes and knew an abusive situation when she saw it, and if him hiding in her airship sometimes gave him respite, if that was all she could do to help because Ardyn wasn’t someone she could arrest-.

She tried. At least. She did what she could.

And one of the most angsty bits of this is-

In some warped way, Ardyn and Noctis grow to love each other. Because there are days when Ardyn’s sickness loosens it’s hold enough to let bits of the Healer King and Big Brother shine through, and his touch becomes gentle and his teasing words lose their poison, his hands card through Noctis’s hair and do not scrape at his scalp, and when he speaks of Prophecy there is longing there for rest and repentance rather than poison and mockery for the fate that awaits them both. This is the Ardyn that peaks through when Noctis falls sick after climbing up a mountain in a snowstorm for training, or when he’s too sore to move after a night battling in Ardyn’s daemon training arena learning how to forcibly purify the creatures even though purification is Luna’s magic and not his. This is the Ardyn that holds Noctis close sometimes and sobs apologies into his limp, shivering nephew’s hair because he is aware, at least for a moment, that this child-teen-young-adult is not Somnus and does not deserve to be molded into a weapon of Astral and Accursed alike. This is the Ardyn that Noctis calls Uncle and bitterly, angrily loves in his heart, the one he looks for in the Chancellor’s every morning and quietly mourns when he cannot find him.

The Accursed trains and molds a weapon, a politician, a cunning, sharp mind that can rival his own and someday kill him.

But it’s the little bits and pieces of Ardyn that raise Noctis, a king and a nephew and a son that holds on to the morals Luna gives him with an iron grip, that makes sure Noctis is not completely drowned beneath the Chosen King.

And in the end it is the work of both sides, Accursed and Healer King, that raise up the one who saves the world. It is the Accursed who forged the weapon that hunts down the weapons of the Lucii and steals the lost ring, who steps into the Crystal without flinching and comes out ready to kill.

But it is Noctis who spent years stealing away children from Besithia’s labs so they would not become MT units, who fosters the rebellion and organizes the factions of Lucian, Galahdian, Altissian, Tenebraen, and Niflheim rebels so that they become a more cohesive whole that the Empire cannot isolate and crush beneath it’s boot. It is Noctis who sometimes sneaks into Luna’s rooms at night so that they can just- hold each other, so that Luna can run gentle fingers down his back and remind him what it means to be human, not a weapon, not the King of Light, who shows him the innocent people he must protect and proves to him that they are worth fighting for and keeping safe when it would be so much EASIER to just wage his war and not care about the collateral.

It is Noctis who teaches his stolen not-MT units to be people and to stay safe, Noctis who clings to the sunshine soul of the one who names himself Prompto and follows on his heels into the maw of Ardyn’s brutal training without flinching. It is Noctis who finds Lucis’s Marshal Immortal deep in one of Niflheim’s dungeons and arranges for the rebellion (his rebellion) to break him out. Who gives the Galahdians his magic in the dead of night with a ghoulish mask and cloak to keep his identity hidden from them. It is Noctis who finds the Last Amicitia leading a rebel cell and offers him hope and gains in accidental exchange a protector and Shield. It is Noctis that is tracked down by a young man with glasses and green eyes and loyalty in every fiber, a man who says “I know you are our secret leader, let me help you” and Noctis who is still human enough to be grateful and say yes.

It is Noctis who orchestrated the Empire’s downfall long before he stepped into Crystal, and who’s forces have hemmed and imprisoned the Accursed in the ruins of Noctis’s first home during the ten years he is gone.

It is Noctis, not the Chosen King (weapon, war beast, broken tool) who gently pillows Ardyn’s head in his lap and pets red-violet hair and sings ancient, long-forgotten lullabies as the Accursed (his tormentor, his Uncle, his worst nightmare, his parent) breathes his last.

It is Noctis who ascends the throne of an Empire and reclaims the Crystal (with Luna and a Retinue at his side to keep him from becoming as heartless as the Chosen King that was forged from him) rather than rolling over and dying, because Ardyn gave him training and honed his mind and gave him access to all of Besithia’s knowledge, did he really think Noctis wouldn’t look for a way to weaken and end the Scourge without sacrificing himself for it?

(He thinks perhaps that Ardyn didn’t, that his Uncle-captor-Chancellor-father always intended him to find a loophole in the Prophecy so that he would survive, that even when buried underneath the Accursed, the Healer King still fought to protect the last of his family)

(Then he clutches the cane he has to lean on ever since that final battle and goes to find some wine, because he does not want to think those thoughts. They hurt even worse than his limp and his joints and the lifetime of scars he hides under elaborate black tattoos.)

There.

THERE.

ARE YOU HAPPY NOW?

Or do you want me to ramble about how Cor feels the day he finally meets the mysterious head of the rebellion, who is now the emperor and how he’s suspicious and willing to keep fighting if this man turns out to be corrupt, because he’s heard this is the Chancellor’s nephew, only to feel his heart stop when he sees the profile of the man leaning heavily on a cane and thinks for one second it’s Regis’s ghost before realizing this man is younger and clean-shaven and dressed in a way that shows off the elaborate, scar-hiding tattoos on his arms and shoulders. How he makes some noise in his throat and when their mysterious Chosen turns to look at him Cor finds himself looking into armiger blue eyes and Regis’s face if it had been softened by Aulea’s jawline and made borderline feral by a lifetime of intrigue and abuse thinly veiled as training.

And Cor whispers the name of his best friend’s long-dead son, and the new Emperor’s eyes sharpen as he says, “How do you know my real name? I never told anyone outside my Retinue.” And something in Cor twists with realization.

And there’s also the realizations of Ignis and Gladio years earlier, who don’t KNOW at first who Noctis really is to them until he trusts them enough to reveal his magic and they realize THIS IS THEIR PRINCE. This is their long lost charge who they thought was dead, but has instead been raised by the man who hates him most and yet loves him dearly by turns and all that entails.

And there’s also LUNA. Luna who doesn’t die, but who grows up watching the gentle, smiling boy she first met in Tenebrae get shaped and sharpened and molded into a Chosen King and a beast of war and a tool of destiny, who could so easily become a monster just like the Accursed in all but name, but who FIGHTS it every step of the way even as his light falls away and Luna becomes his only cornerstone for years. His only reminder that there is a life and a purpose outside the Accursed’s plans and the Prophecy that Luna grows to hate, because if it did not exist then the Accursed would have no interest in her friend.

Luna who cries with relief the day the not-MT named Prompto glues himself to Noctis’s side and refuses to leave, because there is an innocent, stubborn light to the boy’s eyes that gently draws Noctis out of the armor that is the Chosen King even when Luna is not there. Luna who rails at the Astrals (at Bahamut, who prevents Shiva and Ramuh from acting) because they can SEE what is happening, yet they will not step in to rescue him, because even now Ardyn is pushing Noctis toward his “destiny” and that is all that matters.

Luna who, years after all is said and done, after the Accursed is laid to final rest and Noctis slowly dissolves the Empire back into free and healthy kingdoms, still has to hold him when he shakes and still has to talk the icy, too-sharp glaze from his eyes when he forgets to be human rather than weapon. Who pushes golden magic into his body even though she knows some scars can never be healed, and who has to talk Noctis down with Ignis’s help from the heights of his utter, visceral horror the day she tells him she is pregnant and Noctis realizes he’s going to be a father, but that he doesn’t know how, because what role model for fatherhood has he ever had and remembered that wasn’t the very man who took his real father away and made him the fractured mess he is?

...

There I think I’m done being brutally angsty now.

Happy notes for an AU like this would be-

Noctis and Luna both live. Ignis does not go blind.

Noctis and Luna have like- five kids and Noctis adores them all once he gets over his visceral panic. He is the gentlest, kindest father. Luna and Ignis and Gladio have to do all the disciplining because Noctis will not raise a hand or voice to them ever, and he has never looked more peaceful then when he is napping with his children in the garden.

Prompto has like- several hundred brothers because Noctis stole bby MT’s whenever he could. Prompto is the unofficial “oldest” brother of them all (even though chronologically he isn't) since he has the ear of the king, and all the clones have fun making themselves unique via hair and accessories and tattoos and clothes and weird names.

Gladio and Aranea are snark buddies, and neither are entirely sure how they got married but they’re pretty sure it was Biggs’ and Wedge’s faults and that Ignis officiated (which isn’t too far off).

Cor gets to spoil all of Regis’s and Clarus’s grandkids like crazy.

Galahd gets rebuilt and gets to be it’s own country. Nyx Ulric and Crowe and all our other fav glaives live and aren’t traitors.

Titus Drautos was one of Noctis’s most loyal double-agents during the rebellion, and frankly he isn’t sure how his retirement still involves him braincelling his Galahdian idiots, but their islands are pretty and its far, far away from any and all Niflheim/Lucian politics so eh, he’ll take it. Now if Nyx would just STOP using him as a babysitting service for the adorable adopted bby Ulrics of his newly remade Clan, that would help his blood pressure so much.

#SE asks #alyss-spazz-penedo asks #Secret Engima Rambles #Imperial!Noctis verse #angst warning #SO MUCH ANGST #tw: child abuse #referenced child abuse

[thebibliomancer]

Tides of the Dark Crystal liveblog pt 25

Tides of the Dark Crystal by J.M. Lee because some fire just proclaimed Tavra the true All-Maudra, the Vapra have joined the loosely affiliated resistance, and skekSa has our heroes back against a cliff. Two chapters left, tensions high!

Last times on book: Amri and co are on a quest to unify the Gelfling clans against the Skeksis. They’ve succeeded with the Sifa, the Dousan, and now the Vapra. But they’re cornered by skekSa the Mariner who is feeling a bit sore about the Sifa ditching her and wants to take Naia to use as political capital with the other Skeksis.

Chapter 25

Amri and the others fight to escape the clutches of skekSa, they don’t get out unscathed

skekSa stared, wide-eye, rage saturating her dark eyes and making her look more Skeksis than ever. Amri tried not to let it frighten him. Not now that they’d had their victory lighting the Vapra flame. All that was left was to escape the Mariner’s clutches. Survive, like Tavra had said.

Win condition: get the heck away.

Similar to the first book conclusion, having to escape the Hunter. Different from the second book where they planned to trap the Satirist to keep knowledge of the resistance secret longer.

Beating skekSa in a fight, not even a viable outcome.

For one, her sword is longer than Amri is tall. That’s a bit of a discouraging thing.

skekSa tries being ‘reasonable’ one last time, offering Naia a chance to surrender for the safety of the others but Naia refuses.

[skekSa] charged at Tae, swinging her sword. Even if its edge were not sharp, the sheer power and weight of it would crush a Gelfling if it struck. Tae leaped, wings taking her up so her toes touched the gleaming metal of the blade. She ran along the sword, leaping again and slashing with her dagger.

That’s some more choreography that I’d love to see in puppets.

It’d look silly if not execute well but maybe good silly.

There’s only so many ways you can portray a small individual fighting a much larger one and its not like Yoda’s method of jumping around everywhere like a grasshopper doesn’t look silly if you’re not in the moment.

Naia runs to help Tae hold off the Mariner and Amri runs to take care of Kylan.

Kylan being Kylan, his first concern is to stop skekSa from destroying any more trees after the trees helped send the message but Tavra chides him they have to save themselves first.

Problem being they’re backed up against the cliff, they don’t see Onica’s lantern down in the ocean, and all the fliers are trying to knife fight a behemoth.

skekSa doesn’t give them space to think about it either, she dashes in and tries to split Amri in half. He tries to block with Tavra’s sword but the Skeksis wrenches it from his hand with the hook on her sword.

Not ideal.

Naia and Tae attack her again and do some damage but she just jumps away from Tae and throws Naia off of her. Fighting Skeksis is hard.

Tae tells Tavra to protect the others and keep lighting the fires no matter what happens and then dives against skekSa from the air.

Tae’s dagger bit. skekSa’s sword flipped into the air, and Amri caught his heart in his teeth when he saw that the Skeksis’ severed hand still clutched the hilt as it flew.

skekSa screamed. She grasped the stump where her hand had been.

“How dare you!” she cried, over and over. “HOW DARE YOU!”

Well, uh, plus side is that now she can get a hook hand to add to her piratey aesthetic?

Minus side is the Swimmer just lost a hand too.

Other minus side, Skeksis have four arms. Two usually vestigial but like the Hunter, the Mariner engages in vigorous exercise in the brisk outdoors and hasn’t had arm atrophy.

Amri tries to warn Tae when he sees the movement but is too late.

One of skekSa’s smaller arms slipped out from the Skeksis’ coat. Something flashed, and a BOOM rang through the mountain air. A cloud of smoke exploded from skekSa’s hip, blasting Tae off her feet. She crashed into one of the Waystar trees, leaving a red mark on its glowing white bark where she struck. Then she fell into the snow and did not rise.

The smoke cleared. skekSa coughed and reached into the depths of her coat again, drawing out a leathery, egg-shaped device and holding it in her tiny palm. Her breath rasped in anger and pain, her blood still falling on the white snow. She stumbled to one knee.

“I can’t believe this,” she panted. “Can’t believe it one bit.”

Holy crap! Guns exist? Skeksis have guns??

This is even weirder than the Emperor doing force lightning.

Guns!

And here I was joking about her improving her piratey aesthetic when she had a gun up her sleeve!

A weird, egg-shaped gun.

The tech level of this world sure is unusual.

-rereading- Oh! Its a grenade!

Yeah, that’s more in keeping with what we have/will see. But geez, she hit Tae with a grenade. Poor Tae.

Also, sure she got blown up for it, but props to Tae for taking off an entire hand in one go.

Down below in the bay, Onica’s lantern has finally arrived and Naia says that their best chance is to fly down. Except now they’re down one flier and have two non fliers to convey.

skekSa throws another egg-shaped grenade, which Amri blocks by throwing a branch in its path. The explosion still knocks him on his ass because that’s what explosions DO.

And by the time he recovers, skekSa reaches them.

She had found her sword, held it in the hand that was intact, carelessly bleeding from the other as if it meant nothing.

“I don’t want to do this,” she said slowly, her blade tasting the snow at her feet. Her voice turned hard at the end, wicked as her sword. “I told you we had a deal -- you ungrateful fool.”

Huh.

I can almost believe she means it.

The Mariner takes a swing but she’s blocked by someone with a Vapra sword and then has her sword knocked off the cliff.

skekSa is having a really bad day.

[Amri’s] eyes were still hazy, trying desperately to focus. But even so, he could see how stood between them and skekSa: a Sifa with hair gold as the sun, holding Tavra’s sword. Shining on her neck was a crystal spider, silver and blue as the moon.

The ringing dulled enough that Amri could hear Tavra’s words, stern and commanding in Tae’s voice.

“Get out of here, to the cliff,” she said. “Run! Fly!”

!!

Tavra spidered Tae!

I guess Tae is alive from being exploded? If her body is still capable of being spidered and fighting?

skekSa tries to lunge past TavraTae to get Naia but without weapons and against someone with a sword who knows how to use it, she’s stymied.

The Mariner even grabs a tree branch and tries to use that to swat TavraTae, without success.

Naia follows TavraTae’s advice and grabs Kylan and jumps off the cliff.

And after breaking from the fight with superior mobility, TavraTae grabs Amri and jumps too.

Amri having a lot of trouble reconciling in his mind Tavra and Tae because its Tavra but looks like Tae and plus he might have a concussion.

Naia still is the Drenchen whose wings have only just come in and haven’t been strenuously tested much so she’s having trouble doing more than slowing down her and Kylan’s fall. Its a nice touch that that’s remembered two books later.

But TavraTae glides close so Amri can take Naia’s hand and they can all glide down together.

As soon as they land on the boat, Tae crumples, probably Tavra abandoning controlling her as soon as its not a life or death situation. Because of ethics. And because moving her around when she’s been exploded can’t be good for her explosion wound.

Naia immediately starts trying to heal her, only pausing so they can all move inside the cabin where its warm.

In the end, the glowing eased and Naia put her hand on Tae’s forehead.

“I’ve healed her body,” she said, brow creased with pain. “But she was deeply injured by that explosion. Even though I’ve mended her cuts and broken bones, her mind still sleeps. I cannot even sense her dreams. I don’t know when she will wake... if ever.”

It was hard to imagine. The Sifa merely looked as if she were sleeping.

“I didn’t mean to...,” Tavra began. She rested on Tae’s cheek, glistening like a tiny moon in a cloud of sun-gold hair. Amri sighed and shook his head. The moon had eclipsed the sun during a storm in Ha’rar, after all.

What a weird prophecy.

In the end, it turns out it wasn’t a prophecy of a sweet, sweet romance. But a premonition that Tae would eventually be body-jacked by a spider that was really a cool Vapra.

Goes to show, prophecies aren’t straightforward. Unless they’re incredibly straightforward. Like the one from the movie.

But sometimes they’re poetic because fate doesn’t like you screwing with it.

Amri tells Tavra that this isn’t her fault because she did all the right things and saved the group which is what Tae would have wanted and which she’ll definitely confirm when she wakes up.

Buuuuuut, the plot hasn’t stopped happening just because there’s like four pages left in the book.

You’d think it would and we’d be winding down and figuring out what to do next. But no.

A familiar metallic whistle shrills through the air. A whistle that Amri knows exactly what it foretells.

Amri ran out onto the deck, followed by the others. The ship trembled as the sea shook. He grabbed hold of the rigging on the ship as waves rolled out from the ocean and crashed across the back of an enormous black shell. A deafening moan trembled through the water and echoed against the steep cliff. Terror shot through Amri’s body as a behemoth mouth rose from the depths, water gushing from its enormous hooked-beaked maw.

It gaped, spreading its jaws. The ocean churned, sucked into the black abyss of the creature’s throat. Onica’s ship was caught in a vortex of inescapable currents, and Amri watched the slowly brightening sky disappear as the monster ship closed its jaws, swallowing them into a sea of darkness.

COME ON!

This is where the denouement is supposed to go! And you go and release the kraken on them?

You’re persistent, skekSa! You’re very persistent!

#dark crystal #the dark crystal #Tides of the Dark Crystal #liveblog #Amri #Naia #Kylan #Tavra #Tae #Onica #skekSa #the Mariner #one chapter left

[scarletaire]

flowerfall

A/N: Not my usual Jurdan fare, I know, but after reading A Sky Beyond the Storm, this fic poured out of me and I was helpless to stop it. Canon-divergent for Chapter LX, but mostly follows canon for everything after.

WARNING: Spoilers for A Sky Beyond The Storm!

Fandom: An Ember in the Ashes by Sabaa Tahir

Ship: Helene Aquilla x Avitas Harper

Genre/s: Fluff

Rating: T

Links: Masterlist | Read on AO3 

[Summary and tags under the cut because spoilers!] 

Description: 

When Avitas Harper falls, the Blood Shrike makes a deal with Death.  Snapshots of their life together after the war.

Tags: Harper Lives, Fix-It, Happy Ending, Helvitas Living Their Best Lives, We Stan One (1) Power Couple

_______

When Avitas Harper falls, the Blood Shrike makes a deal with Death.

It happens as Mirra of Serra takes her knife to Keris Veturia’s neck. The blood and the life leave her body, but the Shrike cannot revel in it, for her love is dead and cold in her arms.

How is it possible that she still had anything left to lose?

But of course, to love someone is both to gain and to lose a thousand pieces of the world all at once.

She roars in the face of it.

In the face of Death.

And this time, with the bridge between worlds on the brink of evisceration, Death answers.

I need power, says Mauth to anyone who will listen, weakened, and scrambling for any strength to beat back the storm. Power to fight.

The Blood Shrike has never heard the voice of Mauth before, but what he asks for is familiar. She knows all too well the pursuit of power, the search for anything to keep fighting. It is what she searches desperately for now.

Give him back, she orders Death with the voice of a girl who has still too much to lose, give him back, and I will give you the strength you need.

The power of the Star. The power of song and healing. The power of Rehmat, reborn again through the centuries and a thousand times in her blood.

Whatever it is, it will be enough.

It has to be.

The maw opens its jaws. The Nightbringer succumbs to the maelstrom. The Sea of Suffering overtakes the sky.

And Helene Aquilla sings her last song.

____

For a moment, there is only the storm. It surges through the escarpment, it rages across the cliffs, it consumes everything in its path.

For a moment, all is lost.

For a moment, she thinks that at least she didn’t have to wait long before following him.

And then, between one breath and the next, the maelstrom disappears.

Beneath her hand, Avitas Harper stirs.

____

In the end, her deal hadn’t mattered. It wasn’t Mauth that saved them all. It was Laia of Serra, because of course, of course, who else could have done it but her. Helene is full of a strange mix of pride and awe when she pulls Laia into a hug. The girl she once tried to kill, the girl who pieced together the broken world.

The once Beloved, the once Forsaken now rests in chains of mercy, and so the world continues on.

Mauth never speaks to her again.

Maybe because there is nothing she could possibly offer anymore. Maybe because the next time Mauth speaks to her, it will be at the end, when his words will be the last thing she will ever hear.

Briefly, she wonders what Death will do with the power she gave him. Then she thinks that it doesn’t really matter much to her, anymore.

____

She stands with Elias as they take in the bodies of their dead. They are spread out in lines across the forest floor. There are too many of them, Martial, Scholar, Tribal – it isn’t important anymore. They were divided in life. Today, they are united in the loss of it.

Above her, around her, the forest blooms alive, like a panacea for the death and destruction spilt upon the soil, blossoms of apricot and cherry and Tala filling the air with their sweetness, falling to the ground like colored snow.

It is a good thing, then, that Harper is alive. If she had lost him, truly lost him, then she would not have been able to bear the sight of flowers ever again.

____

It turns out dying and being brought back to life takes a toll on a human body.

“When will he wake?” she whispers into the quiet of the healer’s tent. “It’s been days.”

She knows the body lying still before her is merely asleep, but she remembers the way he had looked with all the life drained out of him, and it is a sight she will never forget.

“Give him some time,” Elias says. “Being resurrected by Death itself is no easy thing.”

She raises her eyebrow at him askance.

“I know a thing or two about being resurrected by Mauth.” He shrugs, and the movement is so familiar, so genuinely Elias that she feels the corner of her lips tilt. “Guess it runs in the family now.”

Avitas Harper wakes two days after.

She doesn’t give him a chance to get his bearings. The words are out of her lips before he can even try to sit up, like a song she can’t keep silent any longer. “I love you.”

He raises his fingers to her face, tracing the scars there like a benediction. “I got my wish.”

Emifal Firdaant.

She presses her palm against his hand, trapping it against her cheek. “With all due respect, Captain Harper, it was a bleeding stupid wish. So I did you the courtesy of vetoing it.”

When she kisses him, she feels like she can breathe again after a millennium of holding her breath.

____

When Mirra of Serra takes up the mantle of Soul Catcher, Helene watches the life return to Elias’s eyes, and the hope return to Laia’s.

The Bani al-Mauth turns to Harper. “I suppose I should thank you. For offering me shelter and safety in the bowels of Antium.”

“It was an honor, Lioness. You repaid me in kind when you helped the Blood Shrike through the tunnels.”

“And when you aided in the battle with Keris,” Helene adds.

Mirra scoffs, white hair dancing in the wind. “I worried that the Shrike wouldn’t be able to keep the secret to herself. Not like you. A mind like a steel trap, you have.” She slaps Harper once across the chest. He does a fine job of hiding his grimace as she knocks his healing wounds. “Think you’ll be a fine brother-in-law for my daughter.”

Elias splutters, Laia flushes, and Helene feels a laugh bubbling up in her chest for the first time in ages.

____

As their troops begin to file out of the Forest of Dusk, she sees the figures of two men talking under the shade of a tree. Elias is taller, but Avitas is older. And so it is he who holds out his hand for his brother to shake.

And it is Elias who takes it, but uses it to pull him into a hug instead. She sees Avitas’s back stiffen in surprise, but he doesn’t push him away.

“It shouldn’t have taken so long for this to happen,” Elias says. “I’m glad you’re alive, brother. I’m glad I wasn’t the one to have to pass you on.”

____

When Quin Veturius proclaims her Empress in front of the conclave of their people, her eyes immediately seek Harper.

Help me, she tries to convey. Knock the old man out before he actually convinces them.

“Stand strong,” he says aloud, instead, love and pride sparkling in his green eyes, “Empress.”

____

Later that night, when she sings Zacharias to sleep with a soft lullaby, her blood doesn’t sing with her. It’s silent, dormant. The air is empty with the ghost of her magic.

Leaning against the door a few feet away, Avitas has closed his eyes to listen, his lips curled up at the edges.

And it should feel like something has been stolen from her, but really, it feels more like a blessing than anything else.

____

She dances with Avitas at the Moon Festival in Nur, and the night is warm and they’re both still in armor, and neither of them really know how to dance properly anyway, but it is enough.

It is more than enough.

Skies, it’s more than she could have ever asked for.

He lifts his arm and she twirls under it, catching the twinkle in his eye, and suddenly, she wishes they weren’t in such a crowded place full of other people. Suddenly, she wishes they were alone, in a room, flushed and pressed up against each other just like this. Dancing a dance they both know the steps of far too well.

On her next twirl, she catches Musa’s eye, where he leans against a table, flirting with a pretty Scholar girl. He winks at her, as if he knows exactly where her thoughts have strayed.

She’s far too happy to be annoyed in any way, and so she almost sends him a wink of her own before Harper pulls her close against him again and the thought is forgotten.

____

It occurs to her later in the night, as the festivities draw to a close and she glimpses Musa walking back to his tent alone, that she had come far, far too close to understanding his loneliness in a way she hates to imagine.

____

At night, the Empress walks her city.

Avitas Harper walks with her.

The blue irises native to Antium are in full bloom, littering the ground.

One year, she thinks, as she cups her hand around a petal that floats down to her through the air. It’s been one year since the last flowerfall.

The one in which the world was broken. The one in which the world was remade.

____

Sometimes, she wakes thinking of her family. Of Livia, bleeding out in front of her son. Of her mother, father, Hannah. All of them, their throats cut, their lives lost, gone.

Sometimes, she wonders if they will hate her for bringing back her lover instead of one of them, any of them.

Sometimes, she wonders if she will ever forgive herself for any of it.

____

Avitas Harper, as it turns out, is a shockingly good babysitter.

The first time he gets Zacharias to sleep in under ten minutes, she chalks it up to dumb luck and good timing.

The second time it happens she almost kisses him despite the baby in his arms, too grateful for the peace and quiet after a long hour of listening to her nephew scream.

The third time it happens, she stares at him in disbelief.

“Did you bring back anything from the afterlife, maybe? Does Mauth have supernatural baby-charming magic that we don’t know about?”

He flashes her that half-smile that she feels underneath her skin.

Her next decree, she decides, will be outlawing all attractive men in armor from holding adorable, sleeping babies. It should be absolutely illegal by now, the sheer power of the sight before her.

____

She may be the Empress, but she is a soldier first and foremost.

When the Karkauans hold hostage the Martial ambassador she had sent over to confer the peace treaty, she is first in line for the mission to take him back.

“It’s not over yet,” she tells her men, when all efforts at neutral negotiation fall through. “I’m most dangerous when I’m cornered.”

Harper stands strong at her side. Her Blood Shrike, always watching. “That makes two of us.”

They march together into the fray.

____

The next Moon Festival, Mamie Rila finally succeeds in shoving her into a dress.

She puts up a good fight, doesn’t go down easy. In the end, it takes the combined forces of Laia, Afya, and an exasperated Mamie Rila to wrangle the Empress into the thin, strappy excuse for a gown.

“What is this supposed to be, a slip? Where’s the rest of it?”

Laia furrows her brows. “What are you talking about? That is the rest of it.”

Helene gapes. “I can’t wear this. I’m the Empress. I can’t walk around looking like I’m one stiff breeze away from a public scandal!”

“If you ask me,” says Afya, “a public scandal might do you some good. Just the thing you need to convince some of those troublesome, barbaric Karkauans to ally with you like you’ve been planning.”

“Burning, bleeding hells.” Elias’s eyes go wide when he walks in. “Who are you and what have you done with the real –”

He chokes off as Laia elbows him in the gut. “Don’t listen to him. Or Afya. You look great. Harper will love it. Shall we get on with your hair?”

Helene rears back, because her hair is the last bastion of normalcy she has.

Harper looks like he's been stabbed in the heart a second time when he catches sight of her, and Helene vows to never wear a dress again.

But when his fingers find the hem of her skirt under the table, tugging first, testing the stretch of the fabric against the skin of her thigh, and then slowly inching under, and then up and up and up — well. Maybe dresses aren’t so bad after all.

____

Sometimes, when she walks, Laia is there beside her. There are some nights when the ghosts of the past seem to walk with them, too. This night, in Serra, is one of those nights. Spring has come, and the flowers here are different, cushioning the road on which they walk with bright yellow petals.

“I can’t forget their faces.”

Laia has never been a killer. But she has dealt her fair share of death during their war, and that leaves a mark on the soul that can never be burned away. The difference now lies in how one goes about dealing with those marks. No, Laia has never been a killer, even when she had to be.

Helene, on the other hand, has spent too much of her life wearing the skin of one, and so she speaks as much to herself as she does to her friend when she replies.

“And you won’t. Just don’t forget the ones you saved.”

____

The first time Zacharias speaks a full word, it’s in the middle of supply negotiations with Tribe Nasur. She has just been reunited with her nephew after months in the capital and so is making up for it by carrying and snuggling him everywhere she goes, even if it is to a highly political trade meeting.

Fortunately, Tribe Saif is in close relations with Tribe Nasur, and so no one throws dirty looks when the baby babbles nonsense right when someone tries to speak. The Fakira even smiles encouragingly when Helene begins to bounce him on her knee.

That’s when Harper enters behind her with a missive from Blackcliff.

“Empress.” His voice is warm, and she realizes that it’s because Zacharias has noticed him, and is dimpling up at him with his head tilted back in that way that only babies can do. “We have positive turnout for the new recruits at –”

“Hapa!”

The whole room stills, as if everyone understands the gravity of this moment. Helene feels a grin break across her face, and she realizes that this is a first for her, too. Her first real grin in so, so long, after so much pain. Harper’s large, brown hand comes over her shoulder to pat Zacharias’s downy head in gentle praise, and she forces herself to get it together in front of all these important Tribespeople.

The meeting goes on. But then, one little detail niggles at her, like a tiny pebble in her boot.

Later, when she’s pushing him against the side of an empty caravan, her lips maybe a little too punishing against the skin behind his ear, he has the gall to chuckle at her.

“Are you jealous? Because his first word was my name and not yours?”

And so Helene sinks to her knees and shuts him up the best way she knows how.

____

Once, and only once, Mirra of Serra, Bani al-Mauth, visits her on a balmy night. The snow is almost over, and the Empress stands at her balcony overlooking the grounds, singing a lullaby to a sleeping Zacharias. He is getting too big now, and so she relishes any moment with him while she can still carry him in her arms.

It is on a dying winter wind that the Soul Catcher comes to her, the white locks of her hair stark against the night. “So it was you. I should have known.”

Helene glances at her out of the corner of her eye. “Known what?”

Mirra casts her gaze out into the city, and beyond, seeing something that only the Chosen of Death can see.

“There is a song across the river,” she says. “In the Waiting Place. All the ghosts ready to pass on hear it. It gives them peace.”

Ah, Helene thinks to Mauth, even though she knows he isn’t listening, so you used my voice after all.

____

When flowerfall comes again, and she has lost count at this point, how many it’s been, Helene Aquilla does not need to walk outside to know.

The blue petals of her beloved city, so familiar now, drift across her window like rain. The air is sweet with the smell of it, and with all that the two of them had done during the night, tangled together in the sheets of her bed.

She lifts a hand to trace the outlines of the silver Mask on his face. He pulls himself out of his doze just enough to smile at her.

“I know I said I would never marry and have children and all,” she begins, and the words are slow like honey in her mouth, “and I stand by my vow as Empress. But the adjoining room to my chambers is empty and I was wondering if –”

“Yes.”

She blinks at the swiftness of his answer. “Are you sure?”

“Of course. How else will I keep you out of trouble, my love?”

And so their lives go on.

_____

End Notes: 

Thank you for reading!

I did not foresee ever writing for this fandom, but after that ending, writing this was the catharsis I needed. Now back to regularly scheduled programming! 😂

* Didn’t tag anyone for fear of spoilers, and also because I wasn’t sure if they’d be interested in non-Jurdan fic 🙈But if you’d like to be tagged in any future stuff, I’d be honored to do so! ❤️

#helene aquilla #avitas harper #helvitas #helene x avitas #helene x harper #an ember in the ashes #a torch against the night #a reaper at the gates #a sky beyond the storm #a sky beyond the storm spoilers #aeita #atatn #aratg #asbts #asbts spoilers #sabaa tahir #zita writes

[lailyn]

A Funny Turn

For @kymera219

Pairing: Loki/Tony Stark

Prompt: Epilepsy

The first time it happened, Tony did not think too much of it. He had seen Loki all manner of injured since he talked Loki into joining the Avengers on missions; the more dangerous they were, the better. Like a magnet, the Asgardian prince attracted trouble wherever he went, a magnet without which they would not have won half as many battles. 

So it all balanced out in the end, Tony figured; a concussion here, a fractured ankle there. If it meant victory, Loki was all for it, his all-too-human lover less so, for Tony was beginning to wonder if the latest knock to the head was one knock too many. Magical exhaustion, Loki had said. 

Magical exhaustion my ass, Tony fumed. In order for it to be called magical exhaustion, by definition, a magical act needed to have been performed, before any sorcerer worth his salt could claim to have succumbed to such a thing. 

No. Loki had simply been watching the television when it first happened with Tony by his side; one second, he was playing idly with Loki’s black curls (unearthly fragrant ever since Nat introduced him to bubble bars and bath bombs - which sounded terrifying and dangerous but were actually things you chuck in the tub when you feel like luxuriating in the bath after a long, hard battle) and the next, Loki was sprawled on the living room floor, frothing at the mouth, his limbs jerking erratically like a fish out of water. 

Tony did not panic. At least, not until the five-minute mark had passed with no sign of the seizure planning to cease anytime soon. The sight of Loki’s bluish lips sent a bolt of icy fear into his gut and Tony damn near broke his phone trying to get someone on the line, when all of a freaking sudden, Loki stopped flailing. 

After the hair-raising first ‘episode’, without waking, Loki sank into a deep sleep that had Tony obsessively checking his wrist for a pulse and his chest for spontaneous breathing every five minutes (despite reassurances from Banner and Dr Cho that Loki was fine, all his vital signs were fine). 

The next morning saw Loki all bright and cheerful and flipping pancakes, for God’s sake.

“Are you okay?” Tony showered Loki’s face with kisses and got doused with flour for his effort but he persevered, for not many things in the world could scare him like the sight of Loki shaking and blue (even if blue was Loki’s default setting, bless his beautiful Jotun form), “Are you really okay?”

“I’m fine! Stop kissing me!” Loki yelled, hitting Tony on the arm with a spatula. “What is going on with you?”

When Tony confronted him verbally about the ‘episode’, Loki only said, “Pish posh.”

When Tony confronted him with a five-minute-long video footage of Loki thrashing on the floor, his mercurial lover stared at the screen long after it had gone blank. 

“Magical exhaustion,” was the only explanation given Tony. 

What did Tony know about these things? He would have accepted the bizarre reasoning at face value had Loki not looked suddenly alarmed (a better choice of word would be terrified. Yes, Loki looked terrified) and the pancake all but forgotten. 

Of course, Tony did some asking around, and most of the Google doctors said the same thing: seizures were quite a common occurrence, one that could happen to just about anybody at any point in their life. And most people never experienced another episode after the first one. 

Well. Loki was not most people. 

Luckily (or not) the second episode happened in front of an audience, and Tony meant audience. 

Just the week before, Loki had saved a little girl from being thrown out of a tenth-story window by her mother who had fallen victim to one of Victor von Doom’s illusionary attacks and someone caught the rescue in all its magical glory on video. It spread like wildfire in a matter of hours. 

Of course, it warranted a medal ceremony that simply must take place; the mayoral election was just around the corner and Loki of Asgard could not possibly say no without having to answer questions. Loki hated nosy journalists; Tony did not mind them so much, especially the leggy ones.

So there Loki was, accepting his medal with the swagger of a successful pirate and all the surly demeanour of a teenager when lights flashed from the cameras and he dropped like a stone. 

“Medic!” Someone shouted. 

Never had Tony run up the podium so fast, but someone got to Loki before he did, and he damn near pushed the person off the stage before he realised who it was. “Strange!”

“Wong got a stomach virus,” Stephen muttered, already rolling Loki onto his left side to keep him from choking on his vomit. “I told him the tuna smelled funky.”

********************************

 

When Loki awoke, the unfamiliar surroundings had him scrambling for his magic to draw his daggers but the only thing he drew was a sudden bolt of pain spiking his temples. 

“Easy,” an annoyingly familiar voice said, deep and wary.

Loki gritted his teeth. “Second-rate.”

He should have known. The whole room smelled of incense and moth balls. 

“Loki, be nice.” Tony sounded hoarse, like he had been screaming. Or crying. “You’re at the Sanctum Sanitorium.”

“Sanctorum,” Stephen growled. 

“Tony, stop playing with my hair.” Loki flung an arm over his eyes. “What happened?”

“You tell me. And if you say magical exhaustion one more time…” Tony could not find the words to convey just how upset he was. 

Loki could not resist. He peeked through the crevice between his fingers. “You’ll what, spank me?”

“You stopped breathing on me, Bambi.”

Loki sighed. That would explain Tony’s red eyes alright.

“That’s unsettling.” He hoped his voice only sounded shaky to his own ears.

Stephen rolled his eyes. “Right. So here’s the lowdown. Ebony Maw left a piece of his torture instrument in your cortical gray matter back when you were...under.”

“Under.” Loki had to laugh. “Fancy choice of words, but accurate. In a manner of speaking.”

“You think this is funny?” Tony snapped. “Your heart stopped beating, Loki! If Stephen hadn’t been there - ” he choked.

“Tony,” Stephen called softly. “You’re not helping.”

Loki ignored his boyfriend and addressed the Sorcerer Supreme directly for the first time. “How do you know?”

“Because he practiced his art on me too,” Stephen said quietly. “Good thing Tony was there to stop him or I would probably be suffering from the same.”

Loki laughed again, a sad, soft chuckle. “I couldn’t get it out.”

“You knew?” Tony raged. “You knew you had that thing in you all this time and you didn’t tell me?”

“...I’m sorry.”

“Sorry doesn’t cut it, Lokes.” Tony snarled, fighting hard to keep his composure but failing spectacularly. “This thing could kill you. It almost did.”

Stephen watched as Loki regressed slowly back into his shell, his eyes glazing over as Tony’s rant fell on obviously deaf ears. 

“Stark, I think that’s enough.” He grasped Tony’s shoulder and pulled him away from the bed. “I can help.”

Tony stared into his eyes and Stephen saw the kind of crazed desperation he used to see on a daily basis, back when he was living his old life, cutting into people for a meaningful living. 

“I can help,” he repeated; Tony dropped onto the bed, shell-shocked. 

Stephen redirected his attention to his once-nemesis who had snapped out of his stupor, just in time. “I just need you to consent.”

He watched Tony promptly pick Loki’s hand up to rub it in between his palms, wondering just what he had gotten himself into and if this was even the right thing to do. 

“So what will it be?” The Sorcerer Supreme crossed his arms impatiently. “Let’s be quick about it, I haven’t got all day.”

But things happened for a reason. Wong picked today to be sick for a reason, leaving him one man down with noone to stand in as security detail at the function.

Mystical threats were everywhere, even at silly award ceremonies.

Tony’s jaw clenched in suspense as he waited for Loki’s answer; when it came, it was the most beautiful thing he had ever heard. 

“Yes,” the beautiful thing said. “Yes, I consent.”

 

THE END

#frostiron #loki #tony stark #sick loki #loki whump #fic #ask

[kassofchaos]

Welcome to Gotham

When youngster hero Ben Tennyson finds himself in Gotham city, all seems to be going well. Gotham is soon to leave its impression.

"This is it, huh?" The young man mutters to himself, shielding himself from the slight cold of a dark Gotham night with a particular green jacket. A few years ago, he might have been taken aback by the sprawling height of the gothic architecture or the utter dirt and sprawl of the streets and alleyways, but a few years ago he hadn't yet travelled all across the US with his close friends in celebration of graduating college. Compared to New York, Gotham seems no different, save for the more depressing atmosphere and streets clear of most activity in the dead of midnight. Ben had expected things to look... more crooked; Gotham's reputation doesn't do it any favors.

This, though? The small uptown streets, faint warm glow of inviting neon signs, and glimmer of gothic windows? Ben could get used to this.

Unfortunately, he's in no position to "get used to this". The ringtone of his phone - a stereotypical 80's alien tune - anchors him straight back to the mission at hand. He reaches for his right pants pocket, the green metal of his strange watch providing a soft glow as always, and immediately picks up upon noticing who's giving him a ring.

"Y'ello? Kev?"

"I've arrived, yeah. Not as shitty-looking as I'd expect, remind me to take you and Gwen out here someti-" The youngster's eyes catch onto an ever-so-recognizable sign just as he walks on past it, stopping in his tracks to give it and the small establishment it belongs to a once-over. "-Yo is that a Mr. Smoothy's!? All the way out here, you've gotta be yanking my chain!" Ben rejoices amidst a few chuckles. Through the phone, Kevin's annoyed tone drags him back to the conversation at hand. Ben takes mental note of the establishment before continuing down the street.

"Yeah, yeah, I've got it, okay? Not a soul for miles out here, I can find it and call back before you know it, alright? Tell Gwen I said hi, see ya later." Waiting for Kevin to wish him luck, Ben hangs up and pockets his phone just as he passes yet another alleyway nestled between the crack of two skyscrapers.

It's not long afterwards Ben starts to hear activity rouse up around him; a pair of footsteps behind him, probably someone else walked out of a building and is on their merry way home. The sound grows, soon he's able to pick up on three separate pairs of footsteps besides his own. Things are getting tense, he can feel it. Just before hitting the next street to cross, another alleyway comes into view. Ben sighs in relief, suddenly taking a left turn straight into the narrow space. If those steps behind him are just passers by, they can continue on their merry way and save Ben the stress. If they aren't... at least they're out of the more public eye.

Of course, much to Ben's dismay, all three head straight after him. He turns around to get a good look at three large, scrappy figures blocking the alleyway's exit. By the looks of it, these aren't just regular thugs or crooks. One of them carries a spiked bat, the second dons a rusty pair of knives on his sides, and the largest of the three is nonchalantly waving a rather sizeable firearm about like a prized bouquet of flowers.

"What's with the matching outfits, boys?" Ben breaks the tense silence with a snark, eyeing the thugs up and down a few times. They're all wearing the very same rough jacket - a green and red number with several white stripes to serve as accents. "Did we just come back from a football game?"

"You know you gots some fuckin' NERVE keepin' your little bravado up like this, punk." The one carrying the bat steps forward, whacking his bat against one of the alleyway walls a few times as a sort of warning. "Either you're new here, or you've been gettin' pretty fuckin' lucky."

Ben sighs. This song and dance again. "Right, so you guys want either my money, my life, my phone, my watch, or all four. Name your price." He leans against the dead end of the alleyway, yawning.

The bat-wielding maniac seems to take this a little too personally, running straight up to Ben and pinning his neck to the wall behind him with the handle of his bat. To make things worse, the impact of the thug's knee against Ben's stomach knocks the wind from Ben's lungs and sending his breaths into a disarray.

"Listen here, asshole! You see a Mad Gang crook, and you fuckin' KNEEL to them! DO I MAKE MYSELF CLEAR?"

The tension of heavy silence returns for a few seconds, but it drags on for much longer in Ben's mind. He feels the bat pulled away, allowing him to get a good breath once again. He struggles to stay on his feet, clutching his stomach with both hands as his breathing stabilizes. The crooked fuck continues, a wicked grin upon his face.

"So you understand now, hm? You give us your wallet, your phone, and that dinky watch of yours, and I won't fuckin' bash your head in." Ben feels his chin lifted by the blunt end of the bat, lifted to lock eyes with the twisted fuck and his shit-eating grin.

"You know... I was considering letting you off easy.." Ben responds after another pause, looking up at the thug with an angry glare. Without so much as another word then, he suddenly slams his left hand over the face of his watch, causing it to envelop his body in a bright green flash.

The thug shields his eyes, taking a step back as regret starts to mount itself upon him. By the time his eyes have opened, he feels his throat grabbed onto by a larger, four-fingered hand. It presses tightly, enough to cause an immense struggle for air. The crook drops his bat, hands moving up to wedge themselves in-between the new assailant's hand and his throat, not finding even an inch of purchase.

His eyes can only behold the sight in front of him. Where once the usual everyday Ben stood, now stands a larger, red-skinned monster. Where his eyes stare forward onto a scowling, fanged snarl, his four eyes stare back. A red humanoid dressed in a black jumpsuit from the waist down, the face of Ben's watch in front of its makeshift belt. Most imposing of all is his muscle; built more than Superman, with an additional pair of arms to boot.

Ben, now Four Arms, speaks up, his fanged maw uttering his words in a low guttural growl.

"This-" A sharp jab to the thug's stomach draws out a pained scream of anguish from the now frightened man, all the air from his lungs knocked straight out by the sheer impact. "-is for my throat."

Right as the crooked man was considering saying his prayers, he feels himself tossed aside by the monster as it steps forward towards his little entourage of guards, cracking all four of his fists. "I don't want this getting bloody, boys. You know what to do."

The other two take the hint, backing away slowly before making a complete break for it, the bat-wielding thug soon following suit. Four Arms sighs, shaking his head. Of course, he can't go a single day without-

"You."

A voice behind the alien grabs his attention, and he turns in preparation only to behold the shadowed silhouette he had only heard of through rumor and hushed tone. The large cape and pointed head, the piercing gaze, the yellow symbol.

"Holy shit..." Four Arms mutters, giving the symbol on his belt a light tap, transforming back into the unassuming youngster Ben. "The Batman!? No fooling, you're really a thing?"

Before Ben could continue chattering on, he feels his chin gripped tightly by the gloved right hand of the caped crusader pulling him in close. Now that piercing gaze starts to settle, eliciting a nervous gulp from the youngster.

"You're coming with me."

#batman #ben 10 #fanfic #fanfiction #i can't stop myself from making more of these can i

[end-the-transmission]

Six: abatina, acanthus, aloe, anemone, angelica, basil, bay tree, belladonna, bluebell, carnation, chamomile, chrysanthemum, daffodil, daisy, forget-me-not, gardenia, gladiolus, hibiscus, holly, hydrangea, iris, lavender, lilac, lily, marigold, mint, nasturtium, oak, pansy, parsley, peony, poppy, rhododendron, snapdragon, tulip, violet, willow, zinnia

Mun: Wowzers! So many! I love it :D Thanks friend <3

Botanical Headcanons: -SIX- (Part 1)

Post for Context: X

Abatina: Six, within the confines of the AU, has changed her mind about decision-making drastically after realizing that she’s been stuck in a time loop. Her nightmares show Six committing an action that will continue the loop. After that, she does her best to make calm, rational choices rather than on the fly thinking that she previously used to do. Something Six will never change her mind on is how she views the world: cold and unforgiving.

Acanthus: Six is very cunning and does have the capability to lie, and well for that matter. She may lie to an enemy as a means to distract them or to bring out their insecurities to weaken them. Six has also lied to Mono, yet only does so to refrain him from worrying about her.

Aloe: Not well...When Six is deeply troubled, she has violent tendencies towards others and herself (She would never harm anyone she loved, however, including Mono). Six didn’t know how to handle her grief until Mono showed her. She’d break things, initiate fights with enemies, and bite herself to try and expel her sadness. When Mono and her become close, he teaches her that it’s okay to cry and to take breaks when needed. He wraps her in his jacket and they watch classic 20′s cartoons together (Six’s favorite).

Anemone: Six views the world as an unforgiving place yet believes there’s somewhere in the Overworld that has the potential to be peaceful. She knows the Maw used to be a lovely place for people to relax and dine with one another. Six believes if she was put in power, she could restore it to its former glory.

Angelica: Six’s father, the Toymaker, has been her inspiration. He was someone who worked very hard for little means, yet still lived a content and fulfilled life. Since he didn’t recieve much recognicion, it’s pushed Six’s motivation for power and dominance. She adopted his work ethic when she becomes The Lady, putting all her work into The Maw.

Basil: Six has a love/hate relationship with drawing. She scribbles often and loves to doodle as a means to relax, but sometimes wishes she could draw something more articulated.

Bay Tree: Six does seek glory. She wants to be praised not only for power but for her survival/problem-solving skills.

Belladonna: Thankfully, Six deals pretty well with silence. Too much noise (and loud noise for that matter) often overstimulates her and makes her more agressive, as seen when Mono’s shouting agitates her in her monster form. She figures if the silence is too prolongued, she can make her own noise by humming her favorite tunes.

Bluebell: Unaware of the time loop, Six is prone to make the same mistakes over and over, as well as Mono. Six has a hard time with change in general. She’s figured certain things have worked in the past (such as fending for herself), why change that? Why try to work as a team when she can succeed on her own? In fact she’s only cooperative when she knows it’s the only way to survive. Selfishness related mistakes are something Six has struggled with. Yet eventually, in one faithful loop amongst thousands of others, Six learns to be more selfless with the help of Mono.

Carnation: Six despises gender normalities, especially in regards to dress and etiquette. Her father was very loving and always gave Six a choice in what she wanted to wear. Seeing other girls having to dress cleanly and not get dirty always angered her, knowing that in a life or death situation, none of those things mattered. Six often would like to get dirty and play in the muddy puddles outside of the Maw. Becoming the Lady, someone who has to constantly worry about their appearence, was not done out of choice (she was brainwashed). This process has been destructive to her character and self-worth. 

Chamomile: Six uses painful experiences she’s gotten herself into to learn from and prevent them from happening again. Painful experiences that were circumstantial or unavoidable are the ones that effect her the most. There are days where memories are so painful, she can’t get out of bed or move around. In those times, Mono carries her around throughout the day as he tries to get her to participate in relaxing activities with him. Watching Mono fishing, playing piano, or watching cartoons with him seems to help.

Chrysanthemum: Love is something Six struggles to understand through thoughts and words. It’s something she would never admit to feeling until much older. Because of this, she expresses love through actions: hugging, hand holding, caressing, etc. It’s not something she does/initiates often since Mono is more upfront with expressing his love for her. But when she does, most of the time it’s subtle when Mono barely notices: running her fingers through his hair when he’s sleepy, tracing the scars on his hand, extra second of eye contact, holding him a little longer in hugs. She loves by observing parts of the person she cares about, admiring them.

Daffolil: In normal circumstances, Six is loyal to an extent. She only makes bonds with people who she knows will help her continue her journey and protects those people as a means of protecting herself. For example, Six threw the boulder onto the Pretender to save the Raincoat Girl not out of graditute, but as to insure the safety of her ticket out. In short, Six is loyal to people who seem like valuable tools of survival until they’re of no use to her. Mono was an exception she did not expect. 

#crystaltakashi7 #SIX: Child of the Maw #ASK: Are you a lost child too? #Information #Headcanons #little nightmares six #ln #ln2 #little nightmares #Little Nightmares II #Part 2 Comin Soon! :D

[delunesnumberonefan]

Dracogenesis

Teirsym Stillwater was not one for flights of fancy. She was known for being a very practical, obedient girl. She was not one to do reckless, impulsive things.

Now, sitting in a carriage transporting her from one gilded cage to another, she couldn’t stop thinking about throwing the door open and bolting into the woods.

She sat there, her hands gripping the crushed velvet fabric covering the plush carriage seats with a white-knuckled intensity that was unbecoming of someone of her stature. She stared over at her brother, Jonah, as he absorbed himself in a book.

They looked similar, the two of them. Their square faces and aquiline noses were inherited from their father, along with their blonde hair. Their brown eyes and slight statures were both from their mother--though Teirsym had gotten their father’s thin hips.

Despite Teirsym’s lack of conventional attractiveness, she was on her way to an arranged marriage.

The carriage door was so close, the gilded handle glinted in the sunlight, it beckoned to her with a honeyed light that reminded her that freedom was so close--if she only had the bravery to take it.

Teirsym Stillwater had never been brave before.

The little door separating the driver from their carriage opened, jerking Teirsym out of her thoughts. She shifted, a little guiltily, as the driver spoke.

“We’ve heard rumors of dragons in this part of the mountains.”

Teirsym perked up at that. She had a fascination with dragons ever since she was a child, and she wondered briefly if there were any metallic dragons that lived near the home of her betrothed--they did live high in the mountains-

“Chromatic or metallic?” Jonah’s inquisitive dark eyes have lifted from his book and were turned to the guard driving the carriage.

“Chromatic.”

Teirsym’s heart rate picked up in her chest.

“Odd,” Jonah commented. “Isn’t that fishing village with the dragon guardians supposed to keep the chromatic dragons out of these parts?”

“They are, Sire,” the guard affirmed. “It seems they’ve become lax in their duties. Either that, or the chromatic dragons in this area are docile enough to not warrant extermination.”

“Alright. Keep a sharp eye on the horizon.”

The guard nodded and shut the door.

“Are we in danger, Jonah?” Teirsym’s voice was soft, hesitant. She spoke with a Roostian accent--posh, sophisticated, strained.

“No.” Jonah has gone back to his book, and sounded bored with her question. “That village I mentioned wouldn’t abide an evil dragon to nest in these parts. If anything, we might get stopped by a dragon and go on our way. The worst that could happen is that we barter your dowry for safe passage.”

“Wouldn’t that make the Sunflare Clan upset?”

“They’d understand if it meant the safety of the new addition to their household.” Jonah looked up from his book and gave her a smile, seemingly missing the shiver of disgust that ran through Teirsym at those words and the thoughts they brought. “We’ll be alright, Teirsym. As long as I’m here, nothing bad will happen to you.”

Teirsym felt soothed by his words. Jonah had taken years of fencing and knew how to defend himself. Nothing could get to her while he was around, not even a dragon.

She sat back in her seat. Despite the relief that Jonah’s words brought her, she couldn’t seem to get rid of the tension knotting her body.

Her arranged marriage awaited her on the other side of the mountains. A forced arranged marriage, because her mother had caught her sleeping with her childhood best friend and had decided that Teirsym needed to marry a man immediately in order to save her from homosexuality. She didn’t want this. She didn’t want to be married off to the first man who would take her just so her mother wouldn’t have to look at her anymore. She didn’t want to keep living the rest of her life with her mother’s voice in her head telling her that she had brought shame to their family by daring to sleep with a woman.

She couldn’t imagine spending the rest of her life with a man instead of someone she could actually love.

She looked down to hide the tears springing to her eyes. She hated this, she hated every second that brought her closer to the man who would have her for the rest of her life--every jostle and bump of the carriage made her knotted stomach clench harder.

She turned her gaze to her brother and bored holes in him with reddened eyes.

For the entire trip from the island nation of Raven’s Roost to where they were now in the Splinter Mountains that split the nearby continent of Westfall, Teirsym had debated telling him the real reason for this journey. He didn’t know, he just thought that it was Teirsym’s time to get married, and that she had picked this man out of the ones their mother had presented to her.

She didn’t know how he would react, and that kept her mouth shut. Her mother had reacted with fury and disgust, her father hadn’t said a word, and she doubted Jonah would react in any way positively.

A loud sound interrupted her thoughts. She couldn’t quite distinguish the origins of it, and that had her looking to Jonah in a panic.

“Some animal, Teirsym, nothing more.” His voice was dismissive as he turned the page in his book. “We have armed guards with us, nothing is going to hurt you.”

Teirsym nodded. She clenched her hands back into fists around the seat and tried to calm the anxiety that was starting to churn in her gut.

The next hour or so passed in silence. Teirsym had gotten out her embroidery, and had almost forgotten about the whole thing until the little window opened up again.

“Sire, there’s smoke on the horizon.”

Teirsym paused, her needle poised to draw another pink thread through the peony she was embroidering.

“Which direction?”

Jonah was still sounding bored, and some part of Teirsym wanted to strangle him for not taking this seriously.

“It seems to be coming from the coast.”

“Odd. Perhaps it’s a wildfire? In any case, steer us well away from it.”

“Understood, Sire.”

The window closed again.

“It’s probably nothing, Teirsym,” Jonah assured her before she had a chance to ask anything. “Probably a burn that got out of hand, nothing more.”

Teirsym nodded, but a certain sense of dread had welled in her stomach and didn’t seem as if it was about to leave any time soon.

Her hands shook as she stabbed the needle through the fabric. In the fabric, tug till taught, back through. Back and forth, back and forth, breathing life into this flower one stitch at a time.

It was about fifteen minutes later that they heard it.

Heavy whooshing sounds, audible even from inside the carriage.

“Jonah-?!”

“I don’t know. Hold on.”

He opened the little window just in time for an earth-shattering roar to shake the carriage and the earth it stood on. Jonah’s book slid off the seat, and Teirsym clutched her embroidery with white-knuckled hands.

Teirsym’s heart plummeted as the guards outside screamed a word she had never really associated with fear before that moment.

“Dragon!”

Her eyes widened, and her mind stubbornly stuck on one detail instead of anything useful. On Raven’s Roost, there was a shield around the entire island that protected it from dragons. She had never even thought to fear being attacked before.

Jonah threw open the carriage door and leapt out, drawing the sword he kept stashed under the seat in case of emergencies. He turned to Teirsym and spoke.

“Stay here, stay quiet, stay safe.”

Then the door slammed shut and the carriage shuddered to a halt.

Teirsym’s hands shook from where they held her embroidery hoop. She listened intently as she could.

She could hear shouting, guards conversing, and the heavy whooshing coming ever-closer.

She squeezed her eyes shut as tears slid down her cheeks. She hated it, hated how she could only cry, she was stuck in this blasted carriage and couldn’t do a damned thing about it-

There was another roar, and then the carriage was upside down.

Teirsym blinked, dazed, as she realized she was now haphazardly laying on the ceiling of the carriage. It took her a moment to right herself, and it took another moment to realize it was getting hot, fast.

She threw open the door to the carriage and crawled out, getting to her knees amid fire and flames. She looked around wildly.

She saw guards firing into the sky, she saw the horses kicking from where the carriage had been knocked over. They screamed in pain, the guards yelled, and the sound of crackling flames was deafening. She felt like it was all coming to her from behind a pane of glass, like her brain was having trouble connecting what was happening at that moment with her.

Her hands flew to her mouth as she saw a guard not fifty feet from her get his top half bitten off by a giant, red maw.

Teirsym backed up rapidly, tripping and falling in her attempt to escape.

She found herself frozen as that red snout turned and sniffed. The earth shook as the dragon--because she was now realizing that this beast in front of her that boggled her mind with the size of it was in fact a dragon--moved over to the carriage.

Teirsym squeezed her eyes shut just in time for the last image she saw to be the dragon’s jaws snapping shut around one of the horses. The screaming still seemed to be muted, but Teirsym clapped her hands over her ears anyway because the only thing worse than the screaming, she was finding, was the crunching.

There was another heart-stopping scream and another set of horrible crunching, and then the world seemed to stop.

Teirsym opened her eyes and lowered her hands after a moment, trying to see if the dream was over and she could finally wake up.

The dragon stood before her, larger than anything she had ever seen, larger than buildings and larger than her, with eyes as green as the glass bottles champagne was served in. Those great green eyes were wide, crazed, boring into her with an animalistic fury.

Teirsym couldn’t move. She was frozen in place, and she couldn’t move. Her heart was pounding in her head, she felt like she was going to be sick, she couldn’t move, couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe-

The earth shook as this, this thing took another step, and that’s when the spell was broken.

Teirsym turned and scrambled to her knees and then to her feet and took off for the woods. Her shoes slapped desperately on the earth and the woods were so close-

Two more steps made the world quake from behind her, and then she was pinned by something far larger than she could ever dream of being, or even comprehend with her mortal brain that wasn’t built for the mysteries of the world or the infinities she was finding in and around this beast.

She was turned over, and she stared up at the blood-stained maw of this dragon, those glass green eyes blinking sideways as they inspected her.

One large, scaled hand rose and with the care and delicacy of a calligrapher, the dragon pressed its claw to Teirsym’s forehead and drew a line down, curving around the side of her face and past her lips.

Teirsym screamed. She screamed until her voice was raw and she thrashed desperately and she was useless. There wasn’t a damn thing she could do in the face of this beast’s seemingly limitless strength.

Her heart pounded against the inside of her ribcage and Teirsym felt so despicably, sickeningly, infuriatingly small--like a fledgling sparrow pinned by a hunting cat.

The first line finished at her jawline, and a second was carved into her face with the same sadistic care, starting near her ear and crossing the first to end under her eye.

Blood streamed down the side of her face and down her neck, and Teirsym couldn’t help the great, heaving sobs that wracked her frame, or the futile tears that ran down her face.

The dragon pulled that claw from her face, admiring its handiwork. Blood dripped from its maw onto Teirsym’s face, mingling with her blood and her tears.

Suddenly, the hand holding her down was gone, and Teirsym looked to see that the dragon had whirled around to face a single survivor, and-

“Run!” Jonah’s voice was a roar, a plea, a desperate command. “Run, Teirsym!”

She gaped at him helplessly, but the dragon roared in response and that was all it took for her to scramble to her feet and bolt for the woods.

She didn’t dare stop, but she threw one final look over her shoulder just in time to see her brother locked in battle with this dragon.

Tree branches whipped at her as she ran, but she didn’t let them slow her down, because if she slowed down she might be caught and if she was caught-

She didn’t let herself stop until her lungs burned and her legs collapsed beneath her.

She fell to the forest floor in a heap, barely catching herself with her hands. Pine needles dug into every inch of skin that pressed against the forest floor, but they were just prickles compared to the fire coming from her face.

The situation finally caught up with her, and the realization of everything she had seen set in. She violently emptied her stomach onto the grass and pine needles until there was nothing left to come up except bile.

She crawled away from the pile of what had been breakfast and curled up next to a tree. A careful investigation of the mark on her face told her that the blood had caked and dried in a mess on her cheek, and the rivulets trailing down her neck had done the same.

The reality of the situation hit her.

She had no idea where she was, she had no way home, and she had lost her brother.

Teirsym Stillwater did what she could in the face of these facts.

She curled into herself and she sobbed there on the forest floor.

#roselyn talks #roselyn's writing #teirsym tag #COME TALK TO ME ABOUT MY GIRL

[indiavolowetrust]

The Obey Me Boys as RPG Bosses: Frostheart

CHAPTERS: Prologue + Beelzebub and Belphegor (YOU ARE HERE), Asmodeus, Satan, Leviathan, Mammon, Lucifer, ???, ???, Endings

You are one of many hunters in a land cursed with everlasting winter. You yourself have become rime-touched after an attack by your fellow corrupted hunter, an incident that left you traumatized and lame. Even your hunter’s guild has resigned you to a life of mere cleaning and upkeep duties, and you have spent the last seven years in the depths of your guild’s archives.

Then the White Witch spirits your little brother away into her castle, taking with her the only family you have ever known. Armed with your trusty hunting knife and bow -- and aided by your senior hunter, Simeon -- you set off into the rime-cursed lands to find Luke and end the White Witch’s reign once and for all.

**Very loosely based on The Snow Queen by Hans Christian Andersen.

Word Count: 2,160 words

TW: Blood, Violence, Gore

PROLOGUE

It is said that the rime draws beasts out of the hearts of men. The hoarfrost came, cursed as the land was by the White Witch, and then came the famine. The beasts came, corrupted and twisted beyond measure by the curse, and then came the slaughter. And so came the Frost Blades: a group of hunters trained to slay the rime-touched beasts, cull the spread of the curse, and bring glory to King Diavolo’s wondrous kingdom. It is said that a hunter of the Frost Blades is destined to die a hero’s death, whether it be by jaws of a wolf-beast or some other monstrosity.

You know better, of course. The pure never stay pure for long. Those whose hearts are touched by the rime eventually lose themselves, body and soul, and the symptoms only worsen the further one traverses into the cursed hinterlands. Dizziness, fatigue, and nausea. The piercing of one’s flesh by ice crystals that seem to have grown from within, the loss of one’s extremities to the frost, and the forced expulsion of bodily fluids. Hallucinations and madness. At the heart of glacial rift -- where the White Witch and her subjects are said to reside -- it is said that there exists a barrier no human can pass. Not without losing themselves completely to the rime, that is. The few that had passed the barrier and returned had … they had …

The memory is there before you know it, raw and frostbitten. The bow you’ve been cleaning nearly clatters to the floor, but you manage to hold onto it with trembling fingers.

You can only remember skewered limbs and bestial screams. One hand pressed to your ruined eye, the other shakily holding a blade that you knew would not save you. One of your legs was beyond repair. The creature that had once been Agathe had stalked closer with its segmented, crystalline body, that hunter’s caution still present, and you were too petrified to do anything but gaze upon the bringer of your own death. Too young, too inexperienced, and too unskilled to face off against a rime-touched beast of her caliber. And in her eyes -- Gods, in her eyes, you could have sworn that you saw something not quite bestial staring back at you. Someone.

The journey to the heart of the glacial rift is said to be unbound by any law of space or time, as expected of a realm created by the White Witch. Despite its eldritch properties, you’ve decided to take at least enough supplies for a dozen or so leagues. Elk jerky, dried fruits and nuts, and sizable canteens of water. Rolls of twine, bandages, and tins of Old Gytha’s medicine. Your whitewood bow and arrows sit at the ready of your back. Your fur-lined cloak and boots weigh heavily upon you when you limp past the Frost Blades’ garrison, although perhaps that is to be expected. You were born in this town, and you had fully expected to die in it. If Luke hadn’t been spirited away by the White Witch, you’re not sure if you would even have the heart to step out of its walls. You certainly lack the strength.

A hand plates itself on your shoulder when you stand before gates of the town, firm and unyielding. Simeon.

What did you expect? you berate yourself, a sigh escaping your mouth. He’s probably known all along. You’re as transparent as glass.

Luke’s gone, you tell him. You shift against your walking cane as you do so, not quite prepared to meet his gaze. Not yet, anyway. Even now, you’re too much of a coward. Regardless, he can’t stop you. Your mind and heart is already set on the quest.

“I know.”

You don’t care if they kick you out of the Frost Blades for defying orders. Luke is -- you made a promise to him. He’s the only family you have.

“I know.”

Then why --

His glove-laden hand turns you gently to face him, cutting you short. Your eyes widen at the sight of hunting gear, his own whitewood bow strapped to his back, and he gives you a smile that is only the slightest bit wolfish. A part of you relaxes at that. Despite his straight-laced behavior in the garrison, it would appear that Simeon is still Simeon, the boy that used to defend you and Luke against the older kids in town. Simeon, the baker’s son who stole loaves of bread to feed you and Luke on unbearable nights. Simeon, the greatest and most elite hunter of his party once he enlisted into the Frost Blades.

Simeon, the one who hadn’t quite been there in time. Even Old Gytha had trouble stitching what remained of you back together.

“The Frost Blades have us make an oath to protect our subordinates,” he says in the way of an explanation, leaving the rest unsaid. He walks past you to push aside a patch of brambles, revealing a weathered wooden door. An unused exit. A corner of his mouth quirks upwards when he catches you staring, and he arches a brow at you. “You didn’t really think I’d let you go by yourself, did you?”

[BEELZEBUB AND BELPHEGOR, GUARDIANS OF THE BOREAL FOREST]

It is difficult to believe anyone has ever lived here before. The uneven terrain is stricken with permafrost, rendering the ground slippery and unforgiving, and the boughs of the trees stretch far into the sky. Like nearly everything else in the boreal forest, they are barren, crystalline, and completely incapable of being burned. Yet the ruins here are massive. You and Simeon sit in the belly of a keep -- or what remains of it, anyway -- as the bones of some unfortunate animal crackle and wither away before you in a blue blaze. They lend little warmth, but you dare not speak a word on the matter. Simeon had supported you when your limp worsened, your cane relaying itself to your side, and when your lame legs could no longer support your weight, he carried you. He had not complained or minded, and so you would not either.

Or perhaps he had and he was too kind to tell you otherwise.

Useless, you think to yourself. Useless, useless, useless. No wonder the Frost Blades had difficulty deciding to spare you. A rime-touched whelp has no place in --

“Are you cold?”

You blink to see Simeon staring intently at you, which he evidently has been for a while. Your legs hurt from walking, and you tell him as much. Working with the Frost Blades’ records is a much different experience than traveling. It’s been a long time.

Seven years, you almost say. It’s been seven years.

“I suppose it has,” he hums, and he resumes stoking the fire with a crystalline branch. It only flickers weakly in response.

Despite being certain that you and Simeon have been traveling for only several hours -- meaning that it should only be midday -- night had already long fallen by the time you reached the ruins. Another oddity of exploring the lands near the White Witch’s realm, it would seem. You and Simeon had passed what should have been leagues in a matter of minutes, whereas what had seemed like a minuscule hill had taken an hour to pass. Streams babbled in some places and nearly stood still in others. Despite the high walls of the ruins here, you can feel the wind blowing through at too fast a pace. Simeon struggles to keep the blaze alive.

And so when you stumble upon a massive, free-standing stone gate in the middle of a frozen clearing, you can’t say you’re completely surprised.

Instead, it is the pair of statues before it that draws your attention. While both of them wield a massive battle axe, the creatures depicted in the sculptures seem to be of two different species. The slightly smaller one reminds you of the oxen tended to by the township: cloven legs, curved horns, and thick fur. Its eyes are half-lidded, as if it were on the brink of falling asleep. The other one stands some two or three heads taller than the oxen-like one, bearing features that you would not expect of a creature acclimated to the ice. Its face is dotted with multitudinous eyes, its massive maw is inset with sharp, wicked teeth, and four insectoid wings sprout from its back.

Stranger yet, the statues have been carved with an impeccable eye for detail -- enough that you had nearly mistaken them for another rime-touched beast. The glacial wind whips back and forth across clearing, making them appear to move. To breathe.

Almost as if they were.

“Halt!” booms a voice across the clearing, forcing you to stumble backwards. Simeon all but drags you behind a tree.

“Who goes there?” demands another voice, lower and more gruff than the first.

One hand clamped over your mouth, the other pressed to the hilt of his blade. His eyes meet yours only after a moment, and you see within them the question that plagues your own thoughts. The bearers of these voices, whomever they may be, should not be here.

“This land belongs to Her Ladyship! Speak, or begone with ye!”

There is the sound of cracking, much like porcelain falling apart. Or perhaps it is more reminiscent of ice shattering, like a mirror bursting into shards after being struck. Simeon’s gaze only narrows as he takes another glance over the side of the tree, still holding you close to him. He begins to slowly draw his blade out from its sheath. The boreal winds begin to howl even greater than before, masking the noise.

Simeon unceremoniously flings you in the direction of the clearing. Your shoulder crashes into the permafrost just as the blade of an axe crashes into the tree, cleaving it in two. Simeon is barely able to draw his sword before the axe meets it -- and then he, too, is sent flying. He pierces the ground with his sword before he can completely clear the open space, stopping just short in front of you. Two figures -- one bearing curved horns, the other bearing insectoid wings -- clamber out of the edge of the forest, the larger of the two hefting the oversized axe over his back.

It is only then that you see the symbols carved into the statues, each circling their wrists and ankles like manacles.

Golems.

“What have we here, brother?” says the ox-like golem, gazing upon you with interest. “It would appear Her Ladyship’s doll has arrived sooner than we thought. Shall we deliver this human to her?”

“We shall.”

The ox-like golem strides forward. “How convenient that you’ve brought the human to us -- and in such good condition, might I add? Her Ladyship will be in good spirits to see her dear prince and her doll reunited.” He offers his hand to you, much to your surprise. “Come with me, human. There’s no need to be accompanied by this charlatan any longer.”

Charlatan? You can only stare at the ox-like golem’s hand in bewilderment, shaking your head. Whatever reason the White Witch may have to declare you as her doll -- whatever that means -- you will not abandon Simeon. You have no reason to comply with their wishes.

“You heard the hunter.” Simeon brings his sword before him again, creating a barrier between you and the golems. “We’re not going anywhere. If you want to separate us, you’ll have to go through me.”

“More’s the pity. And here we thought Her Ladyship gave us an easy task for once.” The ox-like golem yawns, gesturing to the other, and it is but a moment before the two cross blades. A dueling stance. “Name’s Belphegor. Beelzebub and I will take the pleasure of beheading you today.”

“Last chance,” warns the winged golem. “Surrender now, and we shall forgive you for your transgressions.”

Tip: Staggering one of the golems will force the other to its aid. As Beelzebub is faster and stronger than his counterpart, it is advised to incapacitate Belphegor first.

[NEXT: ASMODEUS, HER LADYSHIP’S ROSE-KEEPER]

#obey me! #obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me beel #obey me belphegor #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphie #obey me fanfic #obey me simeon #obey me mc #frostheart #om beel #om beelzebub #om belphie #om belphegor #om simeon #blood tw #gore tw #violence tw