#the alchemist of loom

[hyolks]

idiot who doesnt realize how much theyre gonna have to draw cowboy hats: uhmmmm scifi western fma au

#fma #fullmetal alchemist #edward elric #alphonse elric #fullmetal alchemist brotherhood #fmab #inspired by me slowly getting absorbed into rdr2 and everything ive been seeing of trigun stampede #and the singular cowboy ed madootles posted the other day #changing my life yall #and yes they have guns but the secret IS is that those guns are FAKE #bc their intimidation factor is so impressive that they never need to use them #i mean? firebomb short king edward elric going crazy on you and 6'4" alphonse elric looming over u with his hat tipped down? #gone. gone like the wind #idk might call this the wastelands au bc fun :^) #wastelands au

[petrichorsmemory]

I'm reading the first book in the Loom Saga, The Alchemists of Loom, and I'm liking it (a lot actually) but I think the author could have worked a little more on explaining the world. I have read over half of the book and still don't know what each guild does exactly? There were hints but...

I don't mean that the world building is bad...

#books #mid-read review? #alchemists of loom #Loom saga #elise kova

[vivmaek]

STYLE AND AESTHETICS: Astrology Observations

Within this post, there are three different sections.

The Ascendant (physical appearance, character)

The Venus Sign (relationship to aesthetics)

The 5th House (self-expression)

SECTION ONE: THE ASCENDANT

●・○・●・○・●

Aries - Known for their distinct facial features and athletic builds. They look younger than they are and always have bright smiles. Risk takers and adrenaline junkies. Always prepared to jump into something new. Their energetic aura is hard to miss.

Archetype: The Warrior

Tarot Card: The Emperor

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Taurus - It's all about symmetry. They have pretty faces and usually have round eyes. Something about them looks delicate despite their strong postures. Down to earth individuals and connected to nature.

Archetype: The Sensualist

Tarot Card: The Hierophant

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Gemini - You can read these people like a book, one of the most expressive rising signs. There's always a smirk on their face. They walk fast, talk fast, and think quickly. They lure people in with their charms and fun stories. They’re mischievous little fairies.

Archetype: The Jester

Tarot Card: The Lovers

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Cancer - Something about their appearance makes them easy to trust. Their soft features are beautiful and they move gently. You never know what mood they’re in. Elusive individuals who flourish within the private sphere.

Archetype: The Healer

Tarot Card: The Chariot

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Leo -Their high level of confidence is always noticed first. They have a domineering presence that looms over others, everyone knows when they’ve entered a room. Big smiles and loud laughs. They’re here for a good time and will go out of their way to make sure other people are having fun.

Archetype: The Hero

Tarot Card: Strength

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Virgo - These types intimidate people through their subtle expressions. They have bright and clear eyes that are always observing their surroundings. They look clever and are always put together. Understated beauty when it comes to their physical appearance. I think of pixies with this placement because of their sharp, edgy features, and cutting remarks.

Archetype: The Sage

Tarot Card: The Hermit

●・○・●・○・●

Libra - They glow with beauty. Very charming. The most conventionally attractive. They’re sort of everybody's type. Girl next door vibes. The person giggling and flirting at the back of the classroom. 

Archetype: The Princess/Prince

Tarot Card: Justice

●・○・●・○・●

Scorpio - It's all in the eyes. That is the first feature everyone notices within a Scorpio rising. They make eye contact and want people to know that they see them for who they are. Did I mention intense? They have a heavy energy.

Archetype: The Alchemist

Tarot Card: Death

●・○・●・○・●

Sagittarius - So cheerful and ready to join in. They have bright and happy facial expressions. They carry themselves with confidence. Always moving, they use their whole body to express themselves. Wild stallions.

Archetype: The Explorer

Tarot Card: Temperance

●・○・●・○・●

Capricorn - Something about them looks resilient. Their strength as a person is immediately evident. This is the person you go to when life gets too chaotic. They look older than they actually are. People rely on them and they carry this weight with them everywhere they go.

Archetype: The Queen/King

Tarot Card: The Devil

●・○・●・○・●

Aquarius - Odd-balls. They look different compared to everyone else. Calm, cool, and collected. They look detached. Awkward in an endearing sort of way. They surprise people with their eccentric ways.

Archetype: The Rebel

Tarot Card: The Star

●・○・●・○・●

Pisces -  Sometimes they look half asleep. Wherever they are, they’re not here. Always staring off into the distance. Large, emotional eyes. Old souls who have already seen too much.

Archetype: The Mystic

Tarot Card: The Moon

●・○・●・○・●

SECTION TWO: THE VENUS SIGN

●・○・●・○・●

Aries - These people know what they want. Very decisive about what sort of aesthetics they enjoy, and they tend to stick to it. They’re all about being authentic and they want their appearance to reflect this. They love bright colors and flashy prints, especially animal prints. They don’t care if other people don’t like what they like. They’re not highly influenced by fashion trends like other Venus signs. They’d rather try something new and completely original. Obviously, they like to present themselves with a lot of sex appeal.

Colors: crimson, bronze, canary yellow, admiral, eggplant, hot pink

●・○・●・○・●

Taurus - The most likely to stick to fashion trends. People with this placement are probably going crazy over the “clean girl aesthetic,” because it's right up their alley. They want to enhance their own natural beauty. They enjoy the routine of self care, and you can tell just by looking at them that they take good care of themselves. They have an innate understanding of what's currently in, but they’re not experimental. They want to look pretty, not odd or strange. They’re also not trying to make any statements with their appearance, they’re only looking for admiration.

Colors: ruby, honey, dijon, basil, cerulean, mulberry, peach

●・○・●・○・●

Gemini - It's hard to define the aesthetic and style of a Gemini Venus because it’s always changing. I actually think this is quite exciting, and I wish more people were willing to try things they normally wouldn’t. They learn about themselves through the ways in which they dress. They want to explore their own identity. They’re not afraid to embrace the multi-faceted person that they are. They’re always changing up their look based on where they’re going, who they’re seeing, and what place in life they’re currently at.

Colors: blush, tangerine, buttermilk, chartreuse, sky blue, periwinkle, strawberry

●・○・●・○・●

Cancer -  Being comfortable is important for a Cancer Venus. They pay a lot of attention to the weight and textures of fabrics. They might feel more drawn to high quality pieces because of the way it feels against skin. They love oversized clothing, and might even try to hide themselves through clothing. You won’t catch them putting on skin tight clothing just to look sexy. They’ll probably opt for more sensual pieces that move and flow naturally with the body. They’re also the most fond of outdated clothing trends and often bring them back into style.

Colors: garnet, amber, sepia, crocodile, ocean blue, iris, cherry blossom

●・○・●・○・●

Leo - People with this placement are on a mission to always look their best. They dress for an audience. These are “it-girls,” who are always with the trends. They garner a lot of attention and praise through the ways in which they dress. London Tipton vibes. The types of people who never wear an outfit twice. They love expressing themselves through their sense of style, this is something that brings them a lot of joy.  They’re drawn to flashy pieces that make big statements.

Colors: carmine, merigold, sunflower, emerald, cobalt, magenta, punch

●・○・●・○・●

Virgo - Oof, these people get picky when it comes to the clothing they wear.  They have a keen eye for detail and notice when something has been poorly manufactured. They  have high standards and they put a lot of thought into the ways in which they want to portray themselves aesthetically. They’re all about accessories, which really elevates their look. They probably own lots of interesting trinkets that they use to adorn their appearance. They’re fond of handmade clothing, such as crocheted sweaters and upcycled fabrics. They can sniff out all the good clothing items within a thrift store. 

Colors: sangria, clay, hazel wood, sage, aegean, grape, crepe

●・○・●・○・●

Libra - People with this placement are prim and polished. They understand the power of beauty and glamor. They can think of things that other people wouldn’t when dressing themselves. Perfume and the way in which they smell is important, they understand this influences how people will visually perceive them. They balance makeup, jewelry, accessories, and fine clothing all within one look. Nothing appears to be out of place. Other people are incredibly attracted to the aesthetics that they craft. They make it seem so easy.

Colors: rose, deep saffron, macaroon, pistachio, sapphire, lilac, rouge

●・○・●・○・●

Scorpio - If anyones going to have an extensive collection of lingerie, it's going to be a Scorpio Venus. They think about what they’ll wear underneath their clothes before anything else. Underwear creates shapes and silhouettes, and they understand how this influences the appearance of outer wear. They love it when clothing has intimate details, and they want their pieces to present a seductive quality. Leather, lace, and mesh are right up their alley. They go for looks that are dark, moody, and dramatic. They get a kick out of making people uncomfortable through their appearance, they like having that sort of power over people.

Colors: mahogany, spice, sand dollar, seaweed, peacock, raisin, baby pink

●・○・●・○・●

Sagittarius - These types are going to feel more drawn to athleisure in comparison to other Venus signs. They like to move around, the clothing they wear needs to support this. Someone with this placement might dress like they’re going for a hike everyday, even if they’re not. They don’t stick to the same thing all the time though, they know how to dress up for an event. They’re probably all about the cargo pants trend, they love having lots of pockets for storage. They're the most likely to carry around a purse with them everyday. Mini skirts or anything showing off their legs looks especially good on people with this placement.

Colors: currant, ginger, tuscany, moss, indigo, plum, magenta

●・○・●・○・●

Capricorn -  The “old-money” aesthetic comes to mind when thinking about this placement. These types are incredibly chic. They’re trying to garner respect through their appearance and will opt for looks that highlight their elegance.  They’re also very picky about what they wear, they won’t buy something unless they absolutely love it. They don’t pay too  much attention to trends and are more drawn to timeless silhouettes. Much of their style is centered upon whatever career field they belong to.

Colors: wine, sandstone, beige, pine, navy, english violet, rosewood

●・○・●・○・●

Aquarius - They want to be the most unique person in the room and will use their aesthetic to achieve this. They’re not afraid to present bold looks and they want their sense of authenticity to be evident. They’re inventive with their style and are always willing to try something new. They don’t worry too much about the judgments of others, they don’t care if people think they look strange. They don’t participate in clothing trends because they’re the ones setting trends.

Colors: brick, cadmium orange, pale goldenrod, persian green, teal, heather, salmon

●・○・●・○・●

Pisces - People with this placement channel their inner fantasies into their appearance. They don’t set boundaries for themselves and will wear whatever inspires them the most that day. Their favorite tv shows and movies hold a major influence over their style. They can see themselves within fictional characters, and through this they develop their taste for aesthetics. Because of this, they appear otherworldly. Their inspirations are not based within reality. They treat their everyday outfits as if they were costumes.

Colors: berry, coral, pastel yellow, mint, arctic blue, lavender, ballet slipper

●・○・●・○・●

SECTION THREE: THE 5th HOUSE

Within this section, I used fashion designers as examples. However, the amount of designers with accessible birth charts is incredibly limited. For Venus, Mars, and Neptune, I used different examples still related to fashion and self-expression. I also noticed that Uranus within the 5th house was the most common placement for fashion designers. If you don't have any planets placed within the 5th house, I'd recommend using its planetary ruler.

Sun in the 5th House: Alexander Mcqueen

“I design clothes because I don’t want women to look all innocent and naïve… I want woman to look stronger… I don’t like women to be taken advantage of… I don’t like men whistling at women in the street. I think they deserve more respect. I like men to keep their distance from women, I like men to be stunned by an entrance. I’ve seen a woman get nearly beaten to death by her husband. I know what misogyny is… I want people to be afraid of the women I dress.”

provocative, romantic, regal, striking, theatrical, dignified

Alexander Mcqueen is a highly celebrated fashion designer who defined what fashion could look like for women within the 21st century. Mcqueen felt a need to protect women and did this through the clothing that he created. He knew that women were deserving of respect and wanted to present them in a dignified manner. Alexander Mcqueen's aesthetic demands attention, it is majestic and imposing.

Moon in the 5th House: Oscar de la Renta

“There is always an emotional element to anything that you make.”

delicate, feminine, intimate, graceful, gentle

Oscar de la Renta cites his mother and sisters as his greatest source of inspiration. He grew up surrounded by women, and deeply admired them. In turn, the women within his life supported his artistic endeavors and pushed him to embrace his creativity.  La Renta felt that each and every women deserves to feel beautiful. He wanted women to embrace their personalities through clothing. He took the time to understand his clients on a personal level so that his designs would stay true to who they were as people.

Mercury in the 5th House: Betsey Johnson

“Making clothes involves what I like...color, pattern, shape and movement...I like the everyday process...the people, the pressure, the surprise of seeing the work come alive walking and dancing around on strangers. Like red lipstick on the mouth, my products wake up and brighten and bring the wearer to life...drawing attention to her beauty and specialness...her moods and movements...her dreams and fantasies.”

playful, energetic, quirky, colorful, unique, tacky

Betsey Johnson took the high-femme ideal and made it comical. Johnson wanted to have fun with her designs, and she wanted women to have fun when wearing them. She was all about creating sexy silhouettes rooted within mischief. Johnson describes her aesthetic as “pretty and punk.” Girlish elements juxtaposed with edgy qualities. Betsey Johnson was especially popular amongst teen girls in the 80s. Johnson was the one who crafted the stereotypical puffy, pink, 80s prom dress. Betsey girls embrace their playfulness because being sophisticated is too boring.

Venus in the 5th House: Naomi Cambell

“I don't think I was born beautiful. I just think I was born me.”

dramatic, glamorous, magnetic, exclusive, luxurious, sensual

Naomi Cambell has held major influence over the fashion industry. Campbell was one of the first black models to reach supermodel status, was the first black woman on the covers of British and French Vogue, and was the first black woman to appear on the cover of Time magazine. She challenged beauty ideals within society, and opened doors for other women of color. Campbell is the ultimate fashion icon and was a muse for many designers, especially Azzedine Alaïa. Campbell is now an editor at British Vogue, and her influence remains powerful.

Mars in the 5th House: Jonathan Jony Ive

“If something is going to be better, it is new, and if it’s new you are confronting problems and challenges you don’t have references for.”

innovative, crucial, unobtrusive, thorough, minimalistic

Okay, who is this guy?? I didn’t know until I started doing research for this post, but after reading about him I think everyone should know his name. Ive served as senior vice president of industrial design and was the chief design officer for Apple Inc. This man crafted design motifs that have held major influence over the aesthetic of the 21st century. He brought focus to all white color pallets, translucency, dark aluminum, and slate. Ive played a vital role within the designing process of the iPod, the iPhone, and the iPad, plus much more. Ive believes that function and aesthetic go hand and hand, they are not two separate entities.

Jupiter in the 5th House: Vivienne Westwood

“I’m not terribly interested in beauty. What touches me is someone who understands herself.”

rebellious, independent, bold, irreverent, maximinimalism

Vivienne Westwood wanted her clothing to be life-enhancing, she put a lot of effort into developing the philosophy of her brand. She was also adamant that the only way a person could develop personal identity is through intellectual pursuits. Westwood claimed that carrying The Catcher in the Rye under an arm is one of the most fashionable things a person can do. Westwood believed that you develop style through the process of truly knowing yourself.

Saturn in the 5th House: Isabel Marant

“You can’t put together a formula for how to look gorgeous – it's a question of personality.”

nonchalant, classy, understated, parisian, timeless 

Marant is focused on crafting clothing that will last for a long time, she wants people to wear her pieces for years on end. Marant doesn’t follow trends and sticks to classic silhouettes that will always hold relevancy. Her clothing has integrity, and she wants people to feel independent and strong when wearing her pieces. I also think it's interesting that Isabel Marant has a code of ethics displayed on her website, she is committed to holding her company to a high standard. This isn’t something I saw when exploring other fashion houses.

Uranus in the 5th House: Pierre Cardin

"The clothes I prefer are those I have created for a life that does not yet exist, the world of tomorrow."  

futuristic, unconventional, sculptural, clean, revolutionary

Pierre Cardin is an absolute legend. Cardin developed the aesthetic of the space age during the 50s and 60s. He embraces the avant-garde and holds a love for geometric shapes and patterns. Cardin completely disregarded the female form and was one of the firsts to craft gender non-comforming clothing. Many of his pieces are unisex. His clothing is not practical, but it is thought provoking. However, Cardin did pave the way for our modern day athleisure aesthetic. Cardin crafted the foundations for athletic clothing, which was something not seen before his time.

Neptune in the 5th House: Sandy Powell

"Costume design isn’t about fashion. Fashion is fashion. Costume design is characters and costumes, so nothing to do with whether you’re fashionable or not, or understanding fashion.”

imaginative, whimsical, dream-like, eccentric, sensitive

Powell is not a clothing designer, she's a costume designer. She has won 43 oscars for her contributions within the film industry. You’d know her from The Wolf of Wall Street, Shakespear in Love, and Interview with a Vampire, plus much more. What makes Powell such a legend is her understanding of how character and story come into play when developing designs. She is not trying to make statements through her costumes, she is trying to enhance the personality of the characters. The costumes she's crafted are influential upon fashion trends outside of film. We all need a little fantasy within our daily lives.

Pluto in the 5th House: Donatella Versace

“I know fashion is not something that can change the world, but it can change the woman. It can empower the woman. It can make her strong, in herself, and to believe in herself more.”

seductive, dynamic, subversive, spectacular, powerful, daring

It is no coincidence that Donatella Versace became an important figure within the fashion industry after the death of her dear brother, Gianni. Donatella has faced many tragedies within her life. Within her own fashion philosophy, Donatalla tries to combat insecurity through clothing. There is no way a woman will ever appear timid when wearing Versace, and that's exactly what Donatella wants. Being a shy woman herself, Donatella is able to transform herself through the clothing that she wears. She understands the power of fashion, and wants to remind every woman that something truly fabulous resides within them.

#astrology #astrology placements #astro community #astro observations #astrology observations #birth chart #astro notes #astrology tumblr #natal astrology #natal chart #astro posts #astro placements #astrology notes #astro tumblr #astrology community #astrology blog #astrology signs #astroblr #astrological observations #astrological houses #astrological signs #birth chart analysis #birth chart placements #natal chart observations #natal chart placements #natal chart analysis #natal chart reading #Aries rising #aries ascendant #aries venus

[crematedcow]

She couldn't simply surrender what had been the very essence of her life, the one thing that no one was supposed to have the power to take away from her. Her freedom? Nobody was acutally free. Her love? She could find a way to cope with it. Her child? A heart-wrenching sacrifice, but she could endure it. Yet, this vital part of her, this very core of her being – she would never allow anyone to snatch it away.

And that marked the tale of a parasite.

Of a Patron and Its Chains is a 18+ interactive fiction in a fantasy and steampunk setting inspired by the worlds of The Witcher Series and Fullmetal Alchemist. You are a seasoned hunter tasked with tracking and eliminating dangerous supernatural threats. However, your story takes a turn when you decide to become also a pactbearer.

In this realm where the intricate dance of magic and technology creates a canvas of possibilities, one could easily envision an idyllic existence.

The ability to traverse into other realities, though often at a steep cost, promised rapid advancement that could border on madness. Yet, amid these innovations and developments, lurking dangers remained ever-present. The very act of opening portals to other realms could inadvertently usher in creatures not meant for this world, seamlessly intertwining them with reality.

It was a world where the choice was to either be the hunter or the hunted, and most succumbed to the latter fate. However, your father instilled a different path in you. As a hunter of those creatures, he ensured you absorbed all the survival knowledge you needed before eventually got wrongfully accused and executed, a tragic turning point that reshaped your plans. Rather than simply following in his footsteps to become a hunter, you decided to become a pactbearer.

Summoning a Patron, a legend from diverse worlds and realities, your mission was to unite with fellow pactbearers. Together, you would confront an encroaching evil, all while seeking the fulfillment of a cherished wish granted by a god. Yet, even with the support of numerous companions and your trusted Patron, each victory over a monstrous foe revealed a looming threat waiting just beyond the horizon...

You are the hero... right?

This is an 18+ interactive fiction that is being written on Twine.

be a hunter that kills monsters or embroils into unwanted drama

fully customizable mc from appearance, pronouns and personality

several sidequests to develop your skills as a hunter (includes: Possession, Witches, Ancient Beasts and more)

a beastiarium with further information to every creature you meet on the way

the big world of Vestria & Co. with a lot of lore that you can all uncover - or not!

a cryptic voice inside your head that occasionally breaks the fourth wall

meet the other pactbearers and their patrons and decide what relationship you want to have with them

choose what animal-form your patron is going to have

a total of six companions (including your patron) who will be with you a majority of your journey

all of them are romancable, plus a hidden romance option for those who can be patient

lots of parental issues!

figure out the truth of your world, or fail to do so - there is no right or wrong

and a... cow?

CONTENT WARNINGS: depicitons of death, violence, mental illness, gore (in the territory of body horror), animal cruetly and death, abuse, pornographic content, strong language

More might follow

DEMO TBA

CURRENT WORD COUNT: 21000+

but nothing demo ready yet

The RO's include:

✸ Cú Chulainn (M/F)

In ancient tomes and tales, Chulainn stood as a formidable legend — an indomitable hero whose laughter echoed in the face of enemies and even death itself. They reveled in the thrill of combat, never yielding without a proper battle. Yet, such was the image you held dear until the moment you summoned them into your realm, making them your esteemed Patron. The being before you shattered the illusion you once cherished. No longer did they exude the vigor of a warrior; instead, bitterness clung to their spirit, entwined with a profound disdain for the world and all its inhabitants. Longing for the solace of death they once fervently evaded, Chulainn relinquished their ardor for combat, dismissing it as a hollow pursuit devoid of significance. As a consequence, their role as your Patron proved less than… helpful. Nevertheless, a flicker of optimism lingers within the depths of their desolate heart. Perhaps, against all odds, you possess the power to reignite the flames of purpose within them, offering a renewed sense of hope and the chance for a remarkable new beginning.

✸ Lysander/Lysandra (M/F)

Within the illustrious court of the High Queen, there exists a figure of great repute: Lys, a distinguished servant renowned for their unparalleled ability to fulfill any given task. Their name has become synonymous with perfectionism, as they consistently meet and surpass the lofty expectations placed upon them. The mere mention of their name evokes awe and respect throughout the courtly corridors. Alas, despite their esteemed standing, Lys remains a figure of divisive sentiment. Whispers and murmurs abound among their colleagues, swirling in a ceaseless cycle of gossip. Tales of their rigid and occasionally insolent demeanor dominate these conversations, yet there is another facet that elicits both awe and envy in equal measure. Lys possesses an unparalleled loyalty to the High Queen, a level of devotion that others find almost unattainable. Yet, the reality surpasses the worst of these rumors. Lys' nature transcends the bounds of mere unpleasantness, particularly in their interactions with you. Adding fuel to the fire, they perceive you as a sort of rival, amplifying the tensions between you. One can only wonder if it is merely a facade in an attempt to hide their weakness or the reality of their identity.

✸ Holographic Entity "Holly" (F)

Holly, the Patron of Lys, assumes the guise of a long-haired housecat, but her true essence hails as a revolutionary from a distant reality, a realm of unparalleled advancement far beyond the scope of Vestria. For Holly, her presence in this foreign world feels akin to embarking on an elaborate holiday excursion plucked from the very pages of historical books she once heard of. Her insatiable curiosity serves as the driving force behind her existence, propelling her to seek new experiences and infusing every interaction with a buoyant energy that suggests no challenge is insurmountable. Unafraid to vocalize her thoughts and opinions, Holly fearlessly shares her insights, even when they clash with those of her companion, Lys, particularly when the subject of her candid musings centers around you. Or at least, that is the impression you choose to hold. Her unabashed honesty may lead some to believe that she is a simple, unassuming creature. However, the more time spent with Holly reveals that there is much more to her than meets the eye. After all, one cannot lead a revolution based solely on a smile and an unfiltered mouth.

✸ Elli Agilulf (M)

The Blessed Ones, the esteemed right and left hand of the Night Church, are figures known to all who have ventured beyond the confines of ignorance. Cloaked in an aura of mystery, their veiled faces lend an air of both authority and enigma. Among their ranks is Elli, who strives to embody the idealized image of a Blessed One. He adheres to a code of silence, speaking only when necessary and responding with a detached aloofness. True to form, he carries himself with an air of subtle intimidation. However, beneath his carefully crafted facade, Elli is easily rattled by even the slightest inconvenience or a quick-witted remark, his frustration and anger palpable despite his hidden face. He is short-tempered and stubborn, a nature that clashes with the expectations of his position. As a Blessed One, he is expected to be a mindless automaton, devoid of thoughts or personal desires, but Elli's mind is a swirling vortex of thoughts and emotions, overflowing with complexity. Perhaps it is this contradiction, this clash between his true nature and the expectations placed upon him, that makes Elli an actual enigma. You do feel yourself challenged when he decides that you are a criminal to-become.

✸ Irydion (F)

Irydion holds a perspective that challenges the notion of victory being achieved simply through diplomatic agreements and signed papers. To her, a war is not truly won until she has exacted revenge to those she deems responsible for the suffering inflicted upon her country. As a member of the militia, she is fueled by a desire to fight, her hands trembling with the power of her magic, ready to unleash it upon her enemies on the frontline. While others may perceive an undisturbed silence on the battlefield as a sign of these so called peacetimes, Irydion remains vigilant, recognizing it as a deceptive tactic used by the enemy to lure her into dropping her guard. Too bad she is always a step ahead of those who seek to harm her people! Her selfless dedication to protecting and caring for her fellow countrymen is unwavering, even if it means being seen as misguided or paranoid by those who don't fully understand her. Irydion's allies may acknowledge her kind-hearted nature, but they also recognize her single-minded determination and unwavering belief in the necessity of fighting back against an enemy that is just a shadow. Irydion does not care for these rumors, knowing that regardless of how many may stand against her, they will eventually come to understand the truth of her cause. She remains steadfast, believing that time will prove her right in the end. After all, you believe her… right?

✸ "Junius" (M)

Even as Irydion's patron, the line between their roles blurs, with Junius' approach to her and other humans carrying an arrogantly nonchalant air. His actions, delivered with ease and naturalness, ridicule or charm one without noticing. With a mere lazy wink or a mockish bow, he effortlessly asserts a sense of superiority, deliberately refraining from putting genuine meaning or depth in his antics. Maintaining an elusive detachment, he keeps others at arm's length, preventing them from ever truly getting close to him. Despite his mysterious past, he carries himself as if the weight of secrets hold little significance to who he is. Junius' personality dances on the edge of daring, akin to playing with fire, drawing allure and enticement from the very act itself. He fearlessly indulges in flirting with married women and engaging in challenges with those of higher social standing, defying conventional norms and embracing a provocative existence. There lies a subtle irony in his guise — a wolf rather than a lion — his pride speaking for another form. And even in conversation, he adeptly maintains the facade, never allowing his act to waver, leaving you to question whether it is indeed a carefully crafted performance or indeed the reality of his character.

???

If it wasn't the work of gods, maybe it was fate that brought you together.

And several other characters you meet on your way across the country; other pactbearers and their patrons, tragic lovers, a noisy priest, ill-ridden villages (there is only two but it's weird it happened twice), two twin-rulers who don't seem to get along, a talking book, and more.

#twine if #twine game #twine wip #interactive novel #if game #twine #wip #i was kind of forced to post this #interactive fiction #oapaic #im not a native english speaker pls be nice #of a patron and its chains

[elliyoyo]

Algophilia (Astarion Ancunin/Reader)

I have no explanation. The vampire seduced me just like he seduced you, I am also horny. Here you go.

Desc: You get very aroused by biting and the concept of being bitten. Astarion reveals his vampirism, and you both see an opportunity.

Warnings: Smut, pwp, p in v, fingering, oral (m receiving), biting, blood mention.

Words: ~2k

There, in the dim firelight, you see him for what he really is: a vampire. A slave to sanguine hunter. And it stirs something within you in a way you haven't felt in a long time— since before the tadpoles, at the very least.

“So… when was the last time you killed someone? Days? Hours?” You try to keep control of your breathing, but the excitement is building and your resolve is weakening.

“I’ve never killed anyone!”

You give him a look of disbelief, crossing your arms with an eyebrow raised. A vampire? Having never killed anyone? In the time he’s likely been around?

“Well… not for food. I feed on animals— boar, deer, kobolds, whatever I can get… but it’s not enough. Not if I have to fight— I feel so weak.” His brow furrows and he glares off into the distance, said weakness beginning to get to him. If this is going where you think it’s going, this is going to be the best chance encounter you could hope for.

“If I just had a little blood, I could think clearer— fight better… please…”

Bingo.

“Why didn’t you just tell me, Astarion?”

“At best, I was sure you would say no. More likely, you’d ram a stake through my ribs… No… I needed you to trust me— and you can trust me.”

“I do, and I do believe you. Out of everyone at camp, I know my back is covered the best when I’m traveling with you.” His serious look falters for a moment and you see him soften up a bit as he continues.

“Good… Good… Thank you. Do you think you could trust me just a bit further?” He tilts his head slightly before going on, “I only need a taste, I swear.”

“Fine, but not a drop more than you need— can’t be dying on everyone after coming this far.” Your words are much more contained than your thoughts, which are running wild and free, wandering off to the point where you honestly couldn’t care if he killed you. You knew he’d bring you back, especially if you were going to be the first humans he’s had the pleasure of tasting.

“Really?” His eyes light up, but also hold some suspicion as to why you haven’t reacted like he suspected everyone always would. “I… Okay, not a drop more.” He slowly comes in closer, nodding to himself, likely telling himself that this is finally it. “Let’s get more comfortable.”

He takes your hands and leads you to your bedroll, looming over you as you crawl up to your makeshift pillow. In a moment of quick thinking, you untie the top two laces of your nightshirt, giving him some more surface area to work with. You attempt to make eye contact, but Astarion is sizing your neck up and, no doubt, fantasizing about how delicious and sweet your blood will taste on his tongue.

“Go ahead, Astarion. I’m ready,” you gently declare, grabbing onto the ruffles of his own nightshirt.

“Ready? Just so you’re aware, this won’t turn you into a vampire, it’s just me feeding off of you…”

“No, I know, I just… Go ahead…”

And so he does, sinking his fangs into the soft flesh of your neck with no further hesitation. It’s like a sharp, pin-pointed icy explosion at the entry site, and you can’t help but clench your thighs together and yelp at the sensation. The ice soon turns to fire and you feel like you have alchemist’s fire coursing through your veins, igniting every nerve.

“Astarion, this is ecstasy,” you moan, tightening your grip on his shirt and bringing your hips up to grind against his leg for any friction you could get. “You can bite down more, please, bite down more!”

And bite down more, he does. It’s like you can feel your heartbeat throughout your whole body, rhythmic, pulsating, alive. Astarion also seems to be out of sorts, focusing on the sweet nectar of life pouring from the puncture wounds he’s made. Focusing on how powerful and rejuvenated you make him feel, especially in comparison to the fodder at the mansion or the wildlife he’d caught as of late.

“Would it— ah— can I have… I want you, Astarion,” you push out through quick breaths. “While you’re… biting me… if you would…”

He pulls back long enough for his eyes to glaze over and blood to start dripping down his chin. He seems to blank for a moment, but in the blink of an eye, he’s back to his normal seductive self with a, “Want me? Want me how, darling, what exactly do you want? Use your words.”

“Anything. Anything, anything, anything, please.”

His hand slithers up your leg and stops at the front of your pants, rubbing gentle circles right where you need it. You groan in relief and buck up against him, getting greedy off the bat. He smirks up at you from the nape of your neck and digs back in, relishing in the raw, sexual energy you’re exuding.

“In, please, Astarion, in me,” you whine out, putting a hand over his to give yourself a greater pressure to grind on.

“Oh, the only thing I adore more than your blood is the sound of you begging— I have no choice but to give you what you want,” he coos, giving you what you asked for and then some. His fingers work a mile-a-minute, dipping underneath your pants and undergarments to coat them in your slick before slipping in. You can’t help but yelp at the intrusion, but seconds go by and yelping turns to groaning, then groaning turns into bitten back swears escaping your mouth. Still toying with you, his fangs slip right back into the marks he’d left before. Overwhelmed by the mix of pain and pleasure, you have an instantaneous full-body religious experience type of orgasm that you’d never felt before.

“Astarion, where in the Hells did you pick that up?”

In response, he clamps down even harder, effectively shutting you up and eliciting a wonderful tightening around his fingers. Obviously, not a topic to talk about right now, but you weren’t looking to talk anyway, so you had no problem with shutting up. However, he retracts once more, feeling that soon he won’t be able to stop himself before he drains you. Who honestly knows if you’re trying to play him, use him, like everyone else, or if you’re genuinely out of your mind horny for him— but he didn’t care regardless. He was missing the touch, the feel, the pseudo-passion, and he never got to be the one in control anyway. This chance was a lonesome, steaming apple pie innocently left on the windowsill, and he was not beyond stealing.

“Lift your hips up for me,” he commands, and in no time, he’s got you in nothing but your underwear. He takes a moment, not quite admiring, but just watching the light from the fire drench your skin and illuminate your figure. Eyes drifting from plump lips to bloodied, open neck— marked by him, by him— to bare chest to rock solid nipples down to the curvature of your hips to sweet, soft legs. He can’t see himself, but you were a sight to behold. Nothing like anyone who he’d previously manipulated for Cazador, you were somehow special.

“Do you… want me to do anything for you? I don’t want this to be all about me.”

No one in who knows how long has ever asked him if he’d wanted to get in on the pleasure. He wasn’t allowed, as Cazador’s both favorite and least favorite spawn. He was happy to exercise the new freedom and finally, consensually get a mind-blowing blowjob.

“I would adore a little topping off, if you would, sweetness.” He traces his thumb from your bottom lip down to your jaw, tipping your head up to give him the space to kiss the now-dried shower of coagulated blood. He laps up whatever he can then presses one last kiss to your collarbone before sitting back to pop his trousers open and pull the seam at the top of his underwear.

You push yourself up and off of your bedroll and and move your makeshift pillow to use as padding for your knees. Before you touch anything, you press a gentle kiss to his the top of his tip and smile up at him, making sure he didn’t look uncomfortable.

“Return the favor afterwards?” You look directly up at Astarion, locking your eyes with his as you wrap your fingers around his base and begin suckling on his head.

“I could…” His head falls back and his hand finds itself on the back of your head, not pushing you down, just playing with the loose strands. “But I could also come to you in the middle of the night— surprise you, spring myself upon you and devour you. Would you care if anyone heard? The precious leader being lapped at and controlled by the evil, scary vampire?” As he continues his fantasy, you begin taking him deeper and deeper into your mouth, the bloodlessness helping with suppressing any gagging. “I’d wait till dark. Let everyone fall asleep, sneak into your tent… Then I’d taste, no… Ravage you.”

You look up at him, locking eyes as you take him completely down, desperately trying to convince him that he could have all that and more right now. He tuts and finally puts pressure on the back of your head, relishing in the feeling of you gagging and choking around him. “Don’t you worry, I’d leave enough of you to come back— ah, shit— for more.”

While it doesn’t last terribly long, it’s enough for him to reach his finish, where he pulls fully back and paints your face in ropes of heat. He puts a hand on your cheek, smearing his cum across your cheek and grinning down at you, completely breathless. He simply wipes himself off with his shirt, but he takes his time, pulling a handkerchief out of his pocket to give you a more thorough clean.

“Now you have to come steal away to my tent some night, after that.” You laugh, putting yourself back together as he does the same. You take a peek around, and no one seems to have been disturbed, leaving you two a rare private moment. “I’d… really like that. If my blood helps, it would be useful to keep meeting up like this.”

“Oh, I feel wonderful now— I got fresh blood that squirmed on my fingers and finished me off, I’m practically a new man,” he lulls, already starting to stalk off to his tent. “Ta ta, get yourself all rested and recovered for tomorrow.” With that, he disappears, winking and smirking at you as he retreats.

You could barely process what just happened. The wounds on your neck barely feel real, even as you skim your fingertips over them. And you were in for more, apparently, so you barely slept, just imagined how Astarion was going to deliver tomorrow.

#astarion #astarion x reader #astarion imagine #astarion ancunin #bg3 astarion #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 imagine #bg3 x reader #baldur's gate 3 fanfiction

[christophernolan]

Fantasy books by female authors that deserve more praise and recognition and are so SO MUCH better than whatever SJM writes.

The Sun Sword series | Michelle West

A hundred thousand kingdoms | NK Jemisin

The killing Moon | NK Jemisin

An ember in the Ashes | Sabaa Tahir

Shatter Me | Taherah Mafi

Furyborn | Claire Legrand

The bone season | Samantha Shannon

Darker shade of Magic | VE Schwab

The invisible life of Addie LaRue | VE Schwab

Realm of the Elderlings | Robin Hobbs

Sands of Arawiya | Hafsah Faizal

The Daevabad Trilogy | SA Chakraborty

Year of the Reaper | Makiia Lucier

The bear and the Nightingale | Katherine Arden

The Night Circus | Erin Morgenstern

Descendent of the Crane | Joan He

The bridge Kingdom | Danielle Jensen

Dark Shores | Danielle Jensen

Falling Kingdoms | Morgan Rhodes

Range of Ghosts | Elizabeth Bear

Children of blood and Bone | Tomi Adeyemi

The Wrath and the Dawn | Renee Ahdieh

Lumatere Chronicles | Melina Marchetta

The Alchemists of Loom | Elise Kova

#I have an itch when it come to SJM I have 4 of her books and I don’t understand why people think she’s the greatest author since Jane Austen #anyway please read these incredible books #I’ve read these so if you wanna add please do so #books #book recs 2023 #books recs #books and reading

[soullesscinders]

Stolen Glances

pairing: Astarion x Named!Tav (Ezrael)

genre: porn, zero plot.

warnings: MDNI, 18+, throat fucking, piv sex, blood drinking, oral, rough piv, not proofread

word count: 2.7k+

a/n: i havent written smut in so long, feedback appreciated <3 also. I am so sorry for the pure sin you are about to read.

AO3 // Wattpad

For weeks now, Ezrael couldn't stop herself from stealing glances at Astarion. Even doing mundane tasks, like reading, she found him to be the most beautiful being she'd ever seen. He'd been flirty, sure, slightly manipulative as well. She knew he didn't- and, likely wouldn't- harbor any feelings for her. 

That fact would also, not leave her alone. 

All of his deliciously flirtatious greetings, the smug smirks painted on his lips. Ezrael was sure that he was aware of the effect he had on her, painful as it may be. As aware as she was, her heart still fluttered and her face burned at the thought of him, even now as she traipsed through the woods gathering. Various flowers and other plants for Gale, the resident alchemist. Orchids for Shadowheart, she could use some softening up. Lae'zel appreciated moss, citing it made her sword shine. Astarion... she wasn't sure. Starcluster, maybe, but he'd know instantly. No, that's too sappy for Ezrael. She showed appreciation quietly, covertly, so as not to disturb her friendship with him. 

Until, she found herself daydreaming of what she wanted his delicate rogue hands to do to her. Leaned up against a tree, his free hand covering her mouth. Gentle swirls around her...

Snap

Her eyes flew open and shot to the direction of the sudden noise. There, Astarion stood. 

"Hello, Ezrael. Fancy meeting you here," He smirks, a coy undertone to his words. "What might you be up to?"

"Gathering wood and alchemy supplies for Gale and the others. Why, care to assist?" She asked, pretending not to notice his ruby eyes hungrily searching her face for clues. He shrugged in response.

"Not particularly. I noticed you leaned against that tree, thought something might be wrong. Care to share, dear?" 

"No, I really don't, actually." She mustered, attempting to slow the pounding of her chest and the redness in her cheeks. 

He hummed, crossing over to her. 

"I think you're lying, pup. Are you sure you don't have anything to say to me?"

Shit

She stops picking the cluster of a vague plant- admittedly, a weed- and glances up at Astarion, now looming slightly too close to her. She shakes her head no, the pounding in her chest forcing blood to rush in her ears and face to burn a brilliant crimson.

"Oh love, I'm a vampire. You think I can't hear that pretty muscle pounding away when I get close to you?" He bites his lip, one fang shining in the moonlight. Ezrael stands, straighter than she normally would, attempting to put on a brave face and-

Unsuccessful, as usual. Astarion steps closer, eyes darkened and burning a hole through the thin shirt she is wearing. She backs up until she can feel the rough bark of the tree, and Astarion is impossibly close, thigh between her legs. 

He tilts her chin up with one finger until she's looking into his eyes, and leans into her ear.

"Ez, love. I've wanted you for quite a while. I look at you twice as often as you look at me," he whispers. A slight nip to her earlobe elicits a small, nearly inaudible moan from her. Her eyes are closed, but she can feel him moving down to her neck. Goosebumps raise all over her body when he gently brushes his lips over a healing bruise, and she shivers. 

He puts his hands around her waist, circling the small of her back and presses his thigh closer into her heat, delighted by the tense in her shoulders and hitched breath lodged in her throat.

"My love, you can make noise," He says into her collarbone, desperate to hear her noises.

"No one can hear you, we're so far from camp that you could scream for me, and the others would think you were an animal." He whispered, and punctuated with a feather light kiss just under her ear. She groaned lightly, throwing caution to the wind.

"You'd have to make me." She says and Astarion smiles wickedly.

"That's my girl," He says, holding her face and neck in his hand, and pulls her into him for a kiss. A kiss so hot, Ezrael swore she felt a fire in her chest. 

His lips are soft, and he tastes like a fresh morning dew and a slight tinge of metal. His scent of bergamot, rosemary, and a sharp brandy encapsulate her senses. His fangs nick her inner lip and he groans, trailing his tongue delicately over her bottom lip. Begging her to open her mouth, her soul to him. She obliges, sliding her tongue along with his in a passionate dance with each other. 

He pulls away and Ezrael instantly feels the loss, missing his lips on hers instantly. She groans impatiently.

"Sweet, what's the matter? You don't think I'm done already, do you? Oh, no, doll. I'm just getting started. I will say, I'm getting increasingly frustrated with all of this infernal clothing you have in the way." He says, tilting his head and looking down at Ezrael, squeezing her hip as he does. Looking back up without moving his head an inch, he internally undresses her with his eyes. She reaches down to the hem of her shirt and pulls it off in one fell swoop, and Astarion instantly takes advantage of the new canvas presented before him. Kissing her breasts, taking his time with careful precision and attention to each nipple. Her other breast in his free hand, fingers toying with the sensitive bud, she moans in response to his deft fingers. 

"Astarion," she pants breathlessly, "what else can those fingers do?" He hums in response, pulling off of her nipple, leaving the saliva soaked nub to the cool, night air. He kisses her gently, almost lovingly. 

"Patience, pet. We have all night after all." He coos to Ezrael. She keens at his words, desperate for his touch.

"Do I have to beg you to take my pants off?" She sneers, clearly not being patient as Astarion wanted her to be. He growls close to her ear.

"That could be arranged, love. If  you behave." 

She reels at his words, so deliciously sinful rolling off of his tongue. Ezrael tips her head back into the tree once again, attempting to slowly slide her pants down her legs. Astarion notices her gentle wiggling, and in one movement, pins her wrists above her head, eliciting a groan from his new toy. 

"Darling, what did I just get done telling you?" He asks in mock exasperation, pushing his thigh further up into her heat. She wiggles, vying for friction and doesn't respond.

"Please, Astarion." She begs breathlessly, hoping for some kind of mercy from him. He ponders this for a moment, taking in her blushing and desperate form panting underneath him. 

"I suppose I could give you something, since you beg so nicely for me." He muses, kneeling in front of her, and slides her pants down her slender legs. The distinct scent of her arousal only spurs him on, while she whimpers and moans above him. 

Achingly slow, he pulls them off and throws them away, already licking his lips at the delicious sight before him. Ezrael gasps at his cool breathing on her moist and hot center,  hands instinctively reaching for his hair. He stops her with a tut-tut, and she positions her hands behind her obediently. 

"Good girl." He growls toward her heat, fingers snaking up her body to her mouth. 

"Wet these for me, will you, love?" He asks her gently, looking up at her with pure carnal desire in his eyes. She opens her mouth at his command, taking his middle and ring finger into her mouth and swiping her tongue over them to coat them in saliva. With a suck and loud pop, she frees him from her lips, waiting anxiously for him to touch her.

 "Thank you, doll." He purrs, and spreads her folds apart. With a slow stripe up, his tongue finally, finally, flicks over her taut bundle of nerves, and she cries out with a sultry groan and tips her head back. 

"Ast- ah, fuck, that felt nice." She says breathlessly, thoughts already beginning to muddle together. He smiles against her, and begins a barrage of rapid licks, aiming for her release. He spreads her knees for more access, and slides the fingers she so kindly dampened for him into her. Looking up, expecting her eyes to be on him and his sinful movements, finds his toy off in her own world mewling like a bitch in heat. He pulls away entirely, and Ezrael's eyes snap wide open and stare at him. 

"Eyes. On. Me." He says through gritted teeth. 

She nods, words lost to her. He returns to his ministrations, looking up at her through his eyelashes, animalistic lust dancing in his eyes. She fights the urge to look anywhere but him, his desiring gaze pulling her in. She feels a familiar coil in her abdomen being wound tight as he works, and she whispers.

"Astarion, baby, I'm so close." She says, the desire in her eyes and on her lips making him moan against her and sends vibrations right to that hot coil pooling in her gut. 

"Come undone for me, my heart." He purrs, quickening his already relentless pace. At his words, the coil snaps, sending her reeling into a fit of moans, gushing over his fingers while he kisses her clit through it. She comes down after a moment, head spinning, thoroughly fuck out. Astarion stands, pulling her face to him by her neck and kissing him hard.

"Darling, I hope you don't think we're done yet. We are just getting started." He whispers sensually, cool breath fanning her face, the slight scent of her sex on him. She whimpers, leaning in to kiss him again. 

He doesn't object, but after a moment of feeling her tongue on his, has an idea. 

"My love, I have a proposition." He whispers gently, leaning down toward her ear. She hums in response to him, still in bliss after the magic he worked. 

"I want you to get on your knees, and show me how well that bratty mouth can treat my cock." He growls, inhaling the sweet scent of her oxytocin saturated blood.

She nearly buckles. She's had several sexual partners, but none who could make her legs wobble quite like Astarion could. She nods wordlessly, fingers trailing down his bare chest as she goes, until she reaches his waistband. His hips are beautiful, jutting out against the sharp contrast of his black pains, holding a bulge that could rival the biggest she'd seen previously. She undoes the tie with her teeth, blinking up at him through half lidded eyes and he groans. He runs his fingers through her hair and down her jaw as she slowly slides his pants down his legs.

Rock solid, he springs free from the tight confines of his pants with a hiss. Ezrael takes his length in her hand, and tentatively begins swirling her tongue around the head of his cock, tasting the precum beading at the tip. He bucks his hips instinctively, and he holds her head with one hand, barely restraining himself from losing it and fucking her throat. 

"Love, how good is your gag reflex?" He asks as she works him, velvety mouth on his tip. 

"I never have gagged doing this, so I think it's pretty good." She winks up at him, and the permission between the lines is all he needs to grip both sides of her head. 

"Tap my leg if you can't do it, darling. I'd hate to hurt you." He whispers, almost genuine care behind his eyes, mixed with the dizzying desire. She nods, preparing herself. He pulls her head down his shaft, slowly, gauging her reaction until her nose touches his pelvis. When she hardly reacts, he croons.

"Good girl, you are taking me so well, love."He continues, selfishly indulging his own pleasure at the expense of her, her mouth, and her seemingly innate trust in him. She moans around his cock at his words, salivating profusely. He continues pumping himself in her throat, watching as tears prick the corners of her eyes each time he drives himself a little deeper. Enough, he thinks, and buries the tip of his cock in the back of her throat, driving himself as deep as he can go repeatedly. She moans and whimpers around him, now with tears streaking down her face, ruining her eyeliner as he goes, pounding himself to his own pleasure. He fucks her throat like it's the last thing he'd ever do, sweat beading down his forehead and dripping onto his chest as he watches Ezrael splutter around him. 

He pulls out with a pop, her throat now fucked raw, and can't bear to hold himself back anymore. He leans down, kissing her cheek. 

"You did beautifully, my love. Now, on your back." He commands, watching her naked form move to his desires without question. He kneels down to her, forcing her legs open as he drinks in her already dripping pussy, ready to be ruined by him. 

"I'll make you cum so hard you'll never find pleasure from yourself or another man again, Ezrael. Do you understand me?" He growls in her ear, feeling her thrumming heartbeat skip as he does so. She nods enthusiastically. With one hand, he languidly strokes his cock, sliding it against her clit and watching her eyes flutter shut. Quickly and without a shred of mercy left in him, he pushes every inch of his cock into her, feeling her walls twitch around him. He begins at a slow, hard pace, delighting in every moan that rolls off of her lips, watching her tits bounce each time he drives himself back into her. After a few moments of slow thrusts, something inside him snaps. He drives his hips into her at an almost inhuman speed, listening to the mewls flow from her lips and feeling her cunt continuously tighten around him. 

"Yes, Ast- ah." She moans, not a coherent, tangible thought in her head while he rails her senselessly, pounding her into the ground and watching her fall apart under him, for him. He slows for a moment, and leans down to her throat to gently rake his fangs over her pulse.

"Who could fuck you as well as I am?" He asks, nearly purring. 

"N-no one, Astarion." She gasps, pussy fluttering around him. 

"Good pet." He smirks, punctuating his praise with a sharp thrust, and Ezrael cries out. He picks up his relentless pace again, listening to the sounds of her wet sex swallowing him with every thrust he gives. She begins feeling the heat building in her core, watching him as he fucks himself into her with abandon, absolutely loving the growls and groans coming from his chest. He leans down and doesn't even ask before sinking his teeth into her pulse, lapping her lifeblood up as he pushes himself impossibly deep into her. Her eyes cross, mind going blank with pleasure, and the coil snaps, drenching his pelvis and making him groan into her throat. He bites harder to anchor himself, and he tumbles over the edge as well at the feeling of her pussy clamping down around him. He slowly rocks her through her orgasm, sweet, oxytocin flavored blood staining his fangs as he pulls away from her throat to look at Ezrael. 

He smiles sweetly, almost as if he didn't just fuck the life out of her. Her limp body, wracked from pleasure, is already almost asleep. He kisses her softly on her lips, forehead, cheeks, and the tip of her nose. 

"That was lovely, darling. We really should do this again." He whispers to her, and she nods in quiet agreement. He dresses them both quickly, and picks her up. She snuggles into his chest, still dozing. 

"Sleep with me tonight." She says sleepily, eyes closed. The look of shock on his face isn't noticed.

"That's- awfully sweet of you, love," Surprise coating his voice. "But of course, I will." 

He walks her into camp, relieved that everyone appears to be sleeping. He places her on the bedroll in her tent, setting her pack down with all of it's wildflowers still intact. He curls around her sleeping form, resting her head on his chest. 

Maybe, everything will be alright. Maybe, if he can ignore how his chest seems to flutter when he's near her, he can stop stealing glances from across the camp. 

#astarion smut #astarion x female tav #baldurs gate 3 #18+ only #18+ mdni #shameless smut #I apologize for this

[twistedwonderlandsimps]

I've already actually had ideas similar to this but I've never really gotten around to writing it but!

Yuu AU where Yuu comes from a high-fantasy world. All kinds of creatures, whether mythological or not, exist in Yuu's world and aren't limited to humans. Additionally, humans aren't powerless because some of them actually have superhuman abilities and even magic. Kind of like the world building in 'I'm Not This Kind Of Hero' (check it out, it's a classic and makes me feel old) or Medusa and Futakuchi-san by Makise Shaun. Also, now that I think about it, it’s similar to Monster High but the atmosphere’s different. Monster High’s more on the creepy-cool theme while this one’s a more wider and diverse side. Same concept, different font.

Human, elves, dragons, dwarves, nymphs, slimes, fairies, humanoid, non-humanoid, whatever species it is, exists back in Yuu's world. Imagine Yuu belonging to one of these species.

Yuu as a giant merperson like Shirahoshi from One Piece. Of course they aren't in their  true form when they arrive because they won't be able to fit in the Mirror Chambers otherwise. Yuu definitely has the advantage when the Octavinelle arc comes up because they just steamroll past through the twins with a flick of their tail, lmao.

Yuu as a harpy. If they're the type that can lay eggs, imagine having to explain to Deuce that no, the egg they laid wasn't fertilized so it wasn't going to turn into a baby, calm down. Oooo, now that I think about it, variations of harpies! Owls, crows, eagles, everything! Regardless, Harpy!Yuu probably puffs up threateningly every time Crowley's somewhere in the vicinity.

Yuu as a dragonkin. Are they the Western type with the more lizard features? Are they the Eastern type with the more noodle-like features? Are they able to completely turn human or are they the type who constantly has their draconic features out? Probably either sees Malleus as a threat because of territorial and hoarding instincts or tries to hoard Malleus themselves because kin instincts. Well, depending on the type of dragon Yuu's gonna be, that is. Some dragons are solo creatures while others are more social.

Yuu as a slime. Whether they're more humanoid or just a round ball of goo, this Yuu's just vibing. Virtually zero damage can be done to them since they always just reform unless they're met with their weakness. Of course, this also depends on what kind of slime Yuu's gonna be since there's like a ton of slime variants out there. Some are infused elementally, some are infused with something else like metal, poison, acid, whatever. Oooo, just imagine a tiny ball of blob that can fit on the palm of your hand. This Yuu would probably be used as a stress ball a lot, that is if Yuu allowed it. Imagine a Yuu slime variant that doesn’t speak but instead wiggles to communicate. 

Yuu as a shadow creature. Which when faced off against the overblots just utterly decimates them immediately because not only are they a creature of the shadows, they are the shadows themselves. Kind of like Pride from Fullmetal Alchemist minus the eyes. Just imagine seeing your housewarden overblot and having this ink creature menacingly looming behind them and then see an even bigger creature appear and loom behind them. 

Yuu as an android, kinda like Ortho. I feel like this Yuu is the type to give Ortho a gun and be like, “Go, commit crimes, child.” This Yuu is probably a walking, talking military-grade bioweapon. Was definitely a big headache for Idia in STYX because Yuu hacked and overrode the systems.

Yuu as an arachne (spider-human hybrid). They just arrived and someone in the Mirror Chambar already fainted, frothing at the mouth (It was totally Jamil). They get Ramshackle and was like, ‘Score!’ and now it’s full of spiderwebs everywhere. It looks even more haunted than before, they’ve made themselves completely home. I don’t know why but I imagine this Yuu being the cheerful and energetic type.

Of course, let’s not forget the possibilities for the human variants of Yuu. Mad scientist Yuu who likes creating androids and robots. Probably has these tiny drone things hovering around them that shoot out lasers and practically doesn’t step outside Ramshackle because they’re too busy trying to build stuff until Crowley forces them out. Magic user Yuu who, well, uses magic. Probably doesn’t need any wand to cast spells and their magic is probably more versatile than the magic in Twisted Wonderland because they virtually have no limits in casting whatever aside from their limited mana.

Anyway, High Fantasy!Yuu.

#high fantasy!yuu #high fantasy yuu #'tis simply a mini au #twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland au #twst au #twisted wonderland yuu #twst yuu #twisted wonderland headcanon #twst headcanon #twisted wonderland headcanons #twst headcanons #twisted wonderland imagine #twst imagine #twisted wonderland imagines #twst imagines #twisted wonderland scenario #twst scenario #twisted wonderland scenarios #twst scenarios

[yuesya]

There is a terrible, ear-splitting sound that tears through the air. Something rough and guttural and distinctly inhuman.

Keqing’s head snaps up immediately the instant she recognizes this. Her eyes narrow, lips curving into a scowl. Because a sound such as this, within Liyue Harbor itself?

“Alert the Millelith,” she orders her attendants curtly, then turns heel towards the direction that the suspicious sound had originated from.

“Lady Yuheng–!”

“Go!” Keqing shouts, and doesn’t have the time to look back to see if her orders are followed. How could a monster have possibly entered the city without alerting the Millelith? No, scratch that. How could a monster have been brought into the city at all?!

If this had anything to do with the Fatui of Snezhnaya–

Electro sparks from her fingertips; Keqing launches it into the air, and pulls tight on the elemental energy to close the distance instantaneously. She lands on the rooftop in a well-practiced crouch, and races along the tiles.

It’s considered to be disruption of public order and potential property damage, running across the rooftops like this. But right now, the potential presence of a monster in Liyue Harbor is an emergency, where time is of the essence. The ramifications of a monster wreaking havoc within the city –Keqing didn’t even want to think about it.

Up, left, turn and –there!

Keqing drops down in an empty courtyard. There’s a bitter scent of herbs and unknown concoctions lightly permeating the air. The dwellings of a mediciner, or an alchemist, perhaps?

A set of doors slam open. Keqing whirls around and–

–the tip of her sword brushes just under Baizhu’s chin; the man raises both hands in a harmless gesture of surrender, while the white snake draped across his broad shoulders hisses in complaint.

“Lady Yuheng,” the doctor greets, remarkably composed for someone who’s being held at swordpoint. “May I request that you allow me a moment to explain the situation?”

What is there to explain? Behind the green-haired man, Keqing can see the monster –some hideous four-legged creature that… that doesn’t look like any monster she recognizes. There’s no resemblance to Hilichurls, or any of their ilk. It’s definitely not machinery, either; the creature is organic, that much she is able to discern. There are strange tendrils extending from a rectangular head, each one as thick as her arm and somehow reminiscent of winding cords–

The monster growls, some strange mixture of sounds that rumbles in its chest menacingly.

Then, there’s another voice that sounds through the air. A human voice.

Keqing stares disbelievingly at the white-haired girl she’d somehow initially overlooked –Baizhu was blocking her field of view, and the man was tall; Keqing had also been more preoccupied with the monster in their midst– and… there’s no real way to describe this. This strange girl is speaking to the monster, and the monster is speaking back to her, in a strange language that Keqing has never heard before.

Or… no, not a language that’s entirely foreign. The sound and cadence of it… is loosely reminiscent of the Inazuman tongue, although Keqing is positive that it’s not the same language.

Just what on earth–?

Suddenly, the monster raises its voice, roaring at the girl in front of it. It looms over her aggressively and–

“Muta Kokichi,” the girl says, unimpressed. She also says something else, but Keqing’s attention is caught by the way the monster suddenly freezes, aggression and anger abruptly cutting off and bleeding into something else entirely.

Fear.

“… Baizhu, what’s going on?”

“I apologize for not informing the Qixing properly beforehand,” the doctor says. “Although I’d assumed that Lady Ganyu would’ve already taken care of matters on that front, given that this task was tentatively entrusted to me by Liyue’s adepti.”

“Stop talking in circles.” Keqing doubts that he’s lying; Baizhu is not the type, and such a lie would be easy to uncover. But… Ganyu? Liyue’s adepti? What in the world was going on here? … Was that white-haired girl not a girl at all, but an adeptus as well? “Answer me. What’s going on?”

Baizhu inclines his head. “It is as you see before you, Lady Yuheng. I’ve been asked to care for a rather unique patient, who’s currently, ah. Conversing with his shijie.”

His… shijie? That white-haired maybe-adeptus girl? She was the monster’s… fellow disciple?

Wait.

“His?” Keqing pales at the implications. Because Baizhu is speaking as if–

“Yes,” Baizhu smiles, although the expression does not reach his eyes. “He’s human, Lady Yuheng.”

#Writing #genshin impact au v2 #i skipped over some stuff from the last tidbit sorry #i had a general idea for what i wanted but #we got to some [REDACTED] stuff #so instead here #we have keqing and baizhu! #i am the proud owner of a lv20 keqing in game #but i think she's cool #i do not have baizhu #he's cool too haha

[pumperpup]

Once, in a realm where ancient magic wove through the fabric of reality, there was a scholarly man named Edmund, whose thirst for change led him to the door of Alden, a renowned alchemist. Alden's shop, nestled in the heart of a medieval city, was a haven for those seeking the mystical and the extraordinary. Among his many concoctions, one stood out – a potion of growth, rumored to bestow upon its drinker a size and strength beyond imagination.

Edmund, a man more accustomed to the world of books and scrolls, yearned for a physical transformation that would match his intellectual prowess. With a mixture of hope and apprehension, he purchased the potion and drank it outside Alden's shop, on the bustling cobblestone streets of the city. The potion, a shimmering liquid, coursed through him, and soon, he felt the first stirrings of change.

As the potion took effect, Edmund's body began to grow. At first, it was a welcome change – his stature became taller, his muscles more defined. Passersby gazed in awe as the once unassuming scholar transformed before their eyes.

But the growth did not cease. Edmund's muscles swelled to an incredible size, his height towering over the surrounding buildings. His clothes, unable to contain his expanding form, tore into tatters.

Stricken with terror, Edmund realized that the transformation was uncontrollable. He grew so large that he dwarfed the city itself, his colossal figure casting a shadow over the streets he once walked as a mere mortal. In a desperate bid to escape the confines of the city and the horrified stares of its inhabitants, Edmund fled.

He retreated into the countryside, growing larger with every step. His massive form loomed over the rolling hills and serene landscapes, a giant moving amidst the tranquility of nature. Yet, as he receded into the horizon, a sense of desolation enveloped him. He had sought change, but not like this.

Back in the city, Alden's shop became the center of a frenzied clamor. News of Edmund's transformation spread, and people from all walks of life gathered, eager to obtain the potion that had wrought such a miraculous change. The alchemist's shop, once a quiet haven, was now besieged by those who wished to follow in Edmund's colossal footsteps.

Thus, the tale of Edmund and Alden became a legend whispered in the streets of the medieval city – a cautionary tale of desire, transformation, and the unforeseen consequences of meddling with forces beyond human understanding. Edmund, the scholarly giant, remained a figure of myth and wonder, a reminder of the fragile balance between ambition and the natural order of the world.

#ai #bodybuilder #ai generated #gay muscle men #muscle art #musclegrowth #muscle inflation #muscle morph #male muscle growth #muscle #muscle expansion #giant #ai muscle growth #muscle growth story

[aimerays]

no more happy it's angst time guys

mortal x immortal (part 1)

part 2 (xiao, venti, zhongli)

summary: you die, and he has to live with it. forever.

characters: wanderer, albedo

wanderer knew it from the start. he knew the outcome, and he knew how to prevent it. he knew that whatever happened, he only had himself to blame. he had been too comfortable with ignoring the inevitable, and now his self-loathing ate away at him. if he had known this relationship would end so pitifully, he would have abandoned you a long time ago, just to save you both from the pain he feels now.

it has to be a sick joke. anything that makes wanderer happy, anything that distracts him from the past has to disappear, one way or another. it's a beautifully morbid scene, one he can't bear to face yet also one he can't look away from. he wants to turn around, run away, and pretend it isn't real. wanderer wants to close his eyes until the blood and body in front of him are gone and he's back in your arms. it'll never happen, though. you're gone, and he's so painfully aware of it he wishes it had been him instead.

albedo was just happy to have met someone like you. he knew the good times would end, and one way or another, you would leave. maybe of your own volition, maybe forcibly, taken by the claws of death always looming over your human figure. he could ignore the threat of death for the time being, but the alchemist knew he would have to face it someday. he couldn't have known it would be so sudden.

albedo's breath hitches in his throat when he sees the splatters of red. as he gets closer, his worst fears are only confirmed, and he kneels down next to you. you open your mouth to explain, but his fingertips brush your forehead and he shakes his head. "it's alright." he mumbles. neither of you say anything else. albedo cradles your head as your breaths get shorter and your eyes start to close, and the last thing you see is tears falling silently down his cheeks.

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #wanderer #wanderer x reader #albedo #albedo x reader

[commander-rahrah]

Talking to the Moon: Part III

Pairing: Astarion x GN!Reader

Word Count: ~4450

archiveofourown: here

masterlist: here

part I: here part II: here

Summary: Set in Act II in Moonrise Towers, after meeting Ketharic and Araj the first time; Astarion finally comes to terms with his feelings for you, and takes a chance.

Notes: I love elements of both versions of Astarion’s confession scene, so I decided to combine them and add a little extra to them too! There is some dialogue borrowed from the game from Astarion's actual confession, but I added a lot more into it, especially with Tav/Reader's responses.

I love this pairing so very much. I know it is very soft, but I just think Astarion deserves someone soft and gentle and patient with him.

Thank you for reading and interacting! It means so much to me ♡♡♡

.·:¨༺ ༻¨:·..·:¨༺ ༻¨:·..·:¨༺ ༻¨:·..·:¨༺ ༻¨:·..·:¨༺ ༻¨

Bile was rising in Astarion’s throat. The scent of the room, the things that drow was doing to those vials of blood. It was wrong, all wrong. He thought he was a monster for the curse bestowed upon him. But whatever experiments were being conducted, they were monstrous in a completely different sense. His entire being had screamed at him to flee when she had turned her violet eyes onto him. He hated that she even knew his name. He wanted to get as far away from this miserable tower as possible. To go find the stupid artifact for themselves and never return. And the drow was still trying to convince him. Gods, he wished she would just give up. Maybe if he just gave in — it would be only a moment, and then it would be over. His body would still cringe as he remembered it, but he could just add it to the list. But then he glanced to you. You had shown him, the other night, the power of listening to yourself. Of stopping. Of saying no. Really, you had been teaching him that over and over during your little adventures together. When he first realized his new found freedom, all he could focus on was being away from Cazador. Being away from his looming, threatening presence — the pain, the anguish. What he didn’t realize was that freedom came with something else. Autonomy. A choice. Astarion had been making many of them, every day for weeks and he hadn’t realized. Sometimes they were tiny, insignificant decisions. And sometimes they were remarkable… or foolish. But they were his and his alone. And he felt like he could make them. That he wouldn’t be punished or gutted by the group. Betrayed or humiliated for it. And that was because of you.

When Astarion had decided to seduce you he had done it for his protection. He had seen your abilities and power those first few days and realized the threat you could pose to his master. He had done it to ensure you would be on his side, always — that you would never turn on him. What he hadn’t expected was how your protection would really feel, what it would entail. He knew he had your blade and powers now — just as you had his. But what you had given him was so much more than just your abilities. It was sanctuary. He felt shielded, secure. He could let his guard down, he had let his guard down with you. He could make decisions and mistakes and grow… Feel what he wanted, think what he wanted. So as he stared at you, his mind resolved. His red eyes narrowed as he gave his attention to the drow one final time, “I gave you my answer.” She scoffed, “Your control over your spawn has lapsed. Order him to do this, you will not regret it.” The alchemist spat at you, her arms crossed with irritation from his rejection. Even just the word spawn made the hairs on the back of his arms raise. And she thought you were his master. He knew exactly what Cazador would do if he were here. A bleak thought tried to surface in his head, but he forced it away. No, you weren’t like Cazador.

He trusted you. Your nostrils flared as you snapped your head to the mad alchemist, “He is his own person. And he gave you his answer.” “If you would just—“ “No,” You growled, stepping forward with your lips in a snarl. “He said no.” The group blinked at you — you had never been so short with anyone. You were usually flowery and lighthearted even when were outright rejecting someone. Even when someone had a blade pointed to your chest, you were at least civil. They had never seen you like this. Astarion’s red eyes flickered across you face, you seemed just as upset as he did. He could hear your heart thundering, your blood boiling. “Stay away from him.” Your tone was final, your jaw set. “I’ve had enough of this wretched place. Let’s get out of here.” You huffed, turning on your heel and marching out of the tower. Astarion trailed behind you and the rest of the group, studying you carefully. You were vibrating. He couldn’t recall ever seeing you this mad. He almost expected you to go into a rage like Karlach did. He knew you would often put on a mask — one that said everything was fine, everyone was good. You used it because you wanted to be a good leader, because you so often wanted to see the best in the world. He had seen it slip up before, had seen you remove it just for him. But this anger was something entirely new. And it was on his behalf? Astarion grasped that in defending him, not only had you revealed something about yourself, you had made him feel something he had not known in hundreds of years. Respected. Safe. Alive. Not a pawn or tool. A person. He realized that you were both just two people. And that one of you (and maybe if the gods were kind), both of you… stupidly cared for one another. 

Fallen for the other. His plan had gone out the window much sooner than he wanted to admit to himself. He hadn’t been performing with you for quite some time. No, he had not been your plaything or object of desire. He had been… himself. A version of himself he had never known he could be. And the final step was to relinquish the thing he was harboring — control. To show you what he truly has to offer. To put his faith in you. And trust that in turn you would listen, and understand. And not immediately stake him through the heart. A thousand scenarios of how his confession would go began to swirl in his head. But his shoulders lifted as you all left the oppressive atmosphere inside. Even the doom and gloom of the Shadlowlands was appreciated over the dark energy swirling in Moonrise Towers. “Well, that was not what I’d expected.” Gale broke the silence first as the party finished crossing the bridge away from the imposing tower. You were about to begin the trek back to your camp. “Ketheric is…” “An abomination.” Lae’zel interjected, her teeth barred slightly as she spoke. Shadowheart let out a loud breath from her nose, “Agreed.” “Everyone in that place is vile.” Wyll grimaced as he looked over his shoulder, “That alchemist…” He glanced over to Astarion, worry plastered over his face. Though the vampire was sure it was for his missing father more than anything, not for him. “She was a little obsessive. But can you blame her?” Astarion put on his usual snark, letting out his fake laugh as he gestured at himself. “It wasn’t obsessive, it was disgusting.” Your voice was low — your distaste was clear. “She didn’t treat you as a person, only an object of her desire.” “She isn’t the first.“ He gave you a sad smile, before quirking his white eyebrows. “Well, she will be the last. And how dare she look to me, to try and get me to what—leash you? Control you? How dare she think of me as your master—“ “Darling,” Astarion grabbed onto your elbow, halting your rant and your movement. “You aren’t Cazador, trust me.” No, Cazador would have leapt at the opportunity. Not even for the potion. The sadistic bastard would make him do it just to get off on his humiliation. You were as opposite of Cazador as there could possibly be. The furrow in your brow softened, before you nodded your head. The pair of you looked around to realize you had stopped in the middle of the pathway, the rest of the party halted as well, watching your interaction. Realizing the sudden attention you cleared your throat, a blush creeping across your cheeks as you turned your attention back to the group. “Well, I think it’s best we get back to camp to strategize, right?” “Right.” Wyll nodded at you with a knowing smile, before you and the warlock started to lead the group again. Astarion’s red eyes trailed after you, a soft look tugging at his features.  “You’re looking a little smitten lately, Fangs.” Karlach poked him in the ribs as she walked by, “Don’t worry, they look at you like that too.” She said over her shoulder, before taking extra long steps to catch up with you.

He fought the smile that stretched his lips, before trailing after you. 

• • •

Astarion knew he was being anything but subtle as he sat across the campfire from you. His red eyes continually found their way to your figure throughout the evening. The different scenarios he had been imagining in his head were still swirling, consuming his every thought. When he told you his intended plan, but how he had fallen for you instead — how would you react? What if he told you and you laughed? Or screamed? Or attacked? His mind was a cruel, treacherous thing he realized. But his half-dead heart still thumped with the same tune of... hope. What if you had fallen too? Your laughter snapped him back to the present, the joyous sound something he had missed hearing lately. The shadowlands did not leave much time or room for happiness and lighthearted moments. But this evening seemed to be an exception. Gale continued his story, some tale of his about being a foolish boy with much too much time and magic on his hands. The group was hovering and sitting nearby as they listened. Even Shadowheart had joined, a small smile playing at the edges of her lips as she listened with Karlach’s arm slung behind her waist. “The hubris of wizards.” Lae’zel sneered with a roll of her eyes. “I do not understand how you have made it this far in life, istik.” “Dumb luck?” Wyll joked as he ruffled Gale’s brown hair. “Har har," The wizard rolled his eyes, before raising his finger in counterpoint, "But to be fair, the spell was transcribed improperly—" The group groaned collectively, but it was Karlach who spoke up, “Nooooooo, no more talk of proper etiquette and techniques. You’re the only one who cares for it!” He slumped, “Ugh, I miss Tara. She and I would have the most heated debates about proper techniques…” You placed an arm around his shoulders and gave him a half hug. “She is a much better companion than we are then.” You grinned at him, before finishing the last of your meal and placing the empty dish on your lap.

Envy coursed through Astarion at your casual touch with Gale. He wished... He wished he could touch that easily. Be touched that easily, so casually. Without a second thought. 

“Are you done?” Shadowheart stood above you, with her small hand outstretched and gesturing to the empty dish in your lap.

“I— oh, yes,” You stumbled over your words before you held it out for her. She grabbed it gently, and you let out quiet words of gratitude.  The cleric bowed her head bashfully, before grabbing the other dishes and heading to the river to wash up. Shock went through your face, your eyes shining bright and hopeful. It was the most interaction you’d had all week — and it had been soft and gentle. Remorseful, even. Karlach caught your eye and gave you a small smile — nodding her head in reassurance at you. 

Eventually, the tell-tale signs of the camp beginning to wind down for the night started. Gale grabbed a glass of wine and his spellbook, before excusing himself to his makeshift desk near his tent. Wyll and Karlach were now playing cards, chuckling softly between hushed stories. Lae'zel had excused herself for an early night, and Shadowheart remained at the fire pouring over a book she had picked up today. You were kneeling in front of your tent, searching through your pack for something. 

The vampire glanced around once more — if he didn't do it now, he didn't know when he would build up the courage to do it again. Standing up, he nervously picked at the sides of his leather pants as he tread closer to your tent. He made purposeful steps as he approached, alerting you of his presence. 

"Astarion, hi." You sounded breathless as you stood up quickly, abandoning your belongings on the ground. 

“Walk with me?” He quirked his eyebrow, his hands still twitching apprehensively at his side.  “Sure,” You said with an easy smile, falling into step by his side as he brought you towards the sandy bed near the river. The sounds and sights of the camp began to get quieter and quieter as you walked away.

You both took in the sights around you, the dim evening light revealing the dark water that was flowing slowly and a quiet breeze that didn't snare in any of the bare branches. “Even with the curse — this place can be quite beautiful sometimes.” His red eyes glanced around before settling back on you, “You think so?”

"I do."

He thought that spoke more about you, then it did about the Shadowlands. Seeing the beauty in somewhere like this, was a reflection of your own. You made him believe that some good and beauty could really be found in such darkness. Clearing his throat, he spoke with his fingers twirling behind his back, “I brought you out here because… I think we need to talk.” You cocked your head, “About what?” “I— I, uh…," His steps stopped, then yours. "I want to thank you.” “For?” He turned to face you, “For what you said while I was in front of that vile drow. I spent two hundred years using my body to lure pretty things back for my master. What I wanted, how I felt about what I was doing, it never mattered. You could have asked me to do the same — to throw myself at her, what I wanted be damned. But you didn’t. And I’m grateful.” You winced, “I would never — You should never have to do something you don’t want to." “It’s a novel concept, I admit." He gave you a sad smile, "And a little intimidating… it would have been so easy to do it. Just to go along with what I was being told to do. A moment of disgust to force myself through. And then I could have carried on, just like before…” 

But things were different now.

“That would’ve been wrong. How she treated you, how he treated you is wrong.”

"I know. I know that now. The entire reason for my existence was to seduce anything with a pulse. And every instinct I have tells me that nothing’s changed. That I’m still just a means to an end... But you made me see that I never stopped thinking like I was still his slave, even in freedom. But I’m more than that. More than a thing to be used.” The vampire stood up a little taller, his chin lifting. 

"You are so much more, Astarion. You deserve so much more.” His mouth twitched as he tried to force down the swell of emotion climbing up his stomach and into his throat. “Are you all right?” “Oh yes, I’m fine. I just — feel awful." His throat bobbed as he swallowed, his eyes glancing down to his boots. "Look, I had a plan. A nice, simple plan — seduce you, sleep with you, manipulate your feelings so you’d never turn on me. It was easy — instinctive. Habits from two hundred years of charming people kicked in." He finally looked up at your face, studying intensely for your reaction. 

"All you had to do was fall for it. And all I had to do was not fall for you… which is where my nice, simple plan fell apart. You… you’re incredible.”  Your eyebrows raised on your face as you stepped a little closer, “Astarion… what are you saying?” “I'm saying... That I’ve fallen for you.” He finally admitted. 

A look of astonishment crossed your face, before your lips pulled into the most beautiful smile he had even seen. If you were about to stake him — at least it would be a sweet death.

“And I you.” You whispered back. His mind went berserk, the thudding in his ears amplifying even more. “You — you have?” He sputtered.  “Absolutely. Astarion, you are wonderful, you are… My parents paid for some of the best tutors you can find on this continent, and I still can’t think of the words to describe you.” 

You both let out breathy nervous laughs, both of your eyes darting across the other's features with grins on your face.

The corners of his mouth turned down as he got serious, his voice thick with emotion. “You deserve something real. I want us to be something real.” “So do I. More than anything.” You admitted, your eyes sparkling with hope and maybe something a little more.  “I just don’t know what real looks like. Not after two hundred years playing the rake. Being close to someone — any kind of intimacy— was something I performed to lure people back for him. Even though I know things between us are different, being with someone still feels… tainted. Still brings up those feelings of disgust and loathing. I don’t know how else to be with someone. No matter how much I’d like to.”

Because he did want to. There had been moments with you that had brought him such unexpected bliss, touch and pleasure more euphoric then anything he could have imagined. And he wanted to experience that again with you, all of it with you. But he wanted to experience it without it being marred from his past.  “I care about you — deeply. For longer then I should admit… My feelings for you have been about more than sex and attraction for quite some time now.” He knew what you were saying was the truth. He’d seen the look on your face in the Last Light Inn — the hurt and pain etched into it when you thought he only saw you for sex. That in the last few weeks you too, had been stepping away from the physical — and yet, you still spoke to him, protected him, cared for him. 

But he couldn't stop the little voice in the back of his mind. "Really? You're sure?"

"I've never been more sure. May I hug you?” You asked carefully, your brows furrowed ever so slightly. 

Uncertainty flooded through him. No one had asked his permission like this before. No one had offered affection without some end in sight. But he remembered your previous soft touches, and noticed how cautious you were being now. He nodded his head, convinced. He awkwardly moved his arms out, unsure of how to do this. 

You wrapped your arms around him slowly, giving him ample time to change his mind or pull away. He felt your fingers bunch the material on the back of his shirt, tugging at it gently. Your scent filled his nostrils, your warmth seeping into his cold body. No one had very touched him like this, comforted him like this. He choked back the sob that almost escaped him, his mouth puckering before he wrapped his own arms around you — burying his head into the side of your neck and pushing into you more. 

Astarion wasn’t sure how long you stood there like that — but he didn’t really care. He hadn't realized how long he had yearned for this, for you.

It took every fiber of his being to pull away from you, but he caught your hand before you could fully pull away. "Honestly, I have no idea what we're doing... or what comes next." He placed his other hand on top of yours, enveloping them with what he hoped was a tender touch. "But I know that this? This is nice." 

You gave him another life-changing smile, “It is. Isn’t it?” 

He couldn't stop himself from matching your expression, “Gods, I feel so foolish — I don’t know how to do this, to be romantic or anything without—“ 

You interrupted him softly, “We will learn together. And take our time doing so.”

“Ugh, why do you have to be so patient and kind? It makes me like you even more.” He said exasperatedly, staring at your now intertwined fingers. 

You looked up to the now inky black sky, “It’s getting late,”

He chewed the inside of his cheek, “I don’t want to turn in yet. I just got you to myself…” 

“There will be more nights, I promise.” You assured him.

His eyebrows rose as he had an idea, but the worry of rejection flooded through him, “Would you, if you wanted, you can say no—“

“Starry.” You gave him a reassuring nod, your eyes telling him to speak up for himself.  

“Stay with me tonight?” He asked in a hushed tone. 

You quirked your lips, “Perhaps you need more time before we share a tent — even just to sleep. I do not want to rush you.” 

“I—I must admit I quite enjoyed having you next to me while we just slept at the inn." He confessed. 

“You would be comfortable with that?” 

He nodded, “Yes, I believe so.” 

“And if you change your mind?” 

“I will tell you. I promise.” 

“As you wish, love.” You squeezed his fingers once more, before beginning to lead him back towards the camp. 

He stumbled behind you for a moment, slightly dazed. 

Love. The name made his heart swoon and flutter. Gods, his name on your lips had made him come alive again, but that single word made him feel like he was the only person in the world. 

• • •

Thankfully the rest of the party had retired to their tents by the time you two returned. The campfire snuffed out, and supplies tucked away. Scratch had lifted his head from his watch on a rock as you approached, but settled quickly as he saw who it was. 

You had changed in your own tent, insisting on that boundary until more time had passed. You had been shivering in your nightclothes as you slipped into his tent and immediately hid under one of his blankets. Astarion had chuckled before joining you, leaving a respectable amount of space between you. A comfortable amount for him, as you insisted. 

He couldn't help but look at you laying next to him. When he had laid next to you in the inn he had to force himself to look away, but he allowed himself to now. Your face and hair glowed in the soft light of the few candles he had kept lit. His eyes focused on your lips as you licked them before speaking. 

“You are much braver than I am.” You whispered, keeping your voice low so as not to wake your sleeping companions. 

The vampire scoffed, “Me? Brave? Darling, don’t make me laugh. I made Karlach wear me like a backpack today to cross over vines.” “To say what you did tonight first… I had been trying to work up the courage but I… I think I care about you so much it just terrified me.” 

He had seen you stand up to cambions, run through burning buildings. But that is what terrified you? “Why?” Your brow instantly furrowed, your eyes flashing down. “I… I never thought you would reciprocate. I was happy to take whatever scraps you gave me because I just assumed… I’ve been told I’m hard to love most of my life. Too loud, too much.”  “I could never have enough of you.” The words left Astarion’s lips without a second thought. Instant tears formed in your eyes, turning them silver in the glowing candle light. You clutched your chest for a moment, before brushing the tears away, “Oh, you can’t just say things like that.”  “Even if they are true?” He asked, tilting his head.  

“Astarion… I don’t know what I did to deserve you.” 

He scoffed, "If anyone should be asking that it’s me.”

You shook your head at his intended self-deprecation, before settling onto the bedroll as you prepared yourself to sleep.

He watched your eyes flutter open and closed for a few times, before he spoke again quietly. “Would you tell me one of the things?” 

“Hmmm?” You asked with a hum, your eyes still closed as you rolled slightly closer to hear him.  “A few weeks ago you— you said that you wished I could see myself the way you do… How do you see me?”

Though he was overjoyed with you reciprocating his feelings, he couldn’t help but be bewildered by them. Why him? Out of all the people you had met and befriended, why in the hells had you picked him? He was violent, arrogant, traumatized… 

Your expression softened as you opened your eyes, a happy sound escaping you as you thought. “I love the way you act when you think no one is looking.” He blinked. “What ever do you mean?” “Oh, when you hum around camp when doing chores or… oh, that cat at the inn. You were so delighted, petting that the little thing.” You smiled at the memory, “Everyone is afraid of being perceived, I know. And with the walls you built around yourself… it is such a lovely sight to see when you let them down for a moment.”

He stared at you in disbelief. You had been seeing him for longer than he realized.

He whispered your name, before choking out. ”I— Thank you.” 

You looked over at him like he was the stars in the sky. “Goodnight Astarion.” You said sleepily, your eyes fluttering closed as you began to doze off.  “Sweet dreams, darling.” He rolled over onto his back, his eyes moving from your form to close and see you in his dreams instead. A smile tugged on his lips as he fell into his trance. 

And so began the nights of you joining him in his slumber. 

Even just laying next to him, your presence was a gift. Blanketing him with safety and companionship — granting him a peace he had never known. 

The deepest intimacy he had ever experienced. And he wasn’t afraid of it. It wasn’t painful. 

And perhaps that is why the moon came up every night — so that the stars did not feel so alone. 

Part IV

#bg3 fanfic #bg3 astarion #astarion ancunin #astarion x reader #astarion x gn reader #astarion x tav #astarion/tav #astarion/reader

[euniexenoblade]

hey, on your old blog you had a list of your favorite books. Do you think you could make another post like that?

Yeah totes, so if we just stick specifically to novels and no comics or manga, here ya go:

The Alchemists of Loom (trilogy) by Elise Kova: It's a weird story that I can only describe as a traditional fantasy and steampunk combine. The exposition is there was this world of people called the Fenthri who achieve achieve steampunk level of tech, finally inventing a flying machine and going beyond the clouds that surround their planet, to find floating patches of land where they discover a race of people that call themselves Dragons, who have magic. The dragons invade the planet and oppress its people. The main character is this woman known as The White Wraith, a Fenthri who is known for killing Dragons and harvesting their organs (source of their magic), her lesbian protege that leads a revolution, and a Dragon royal that betrays his people to help attempt dethrone the king. Shit's great. I love it. Please read it. That first book is outstanding.

Goth by Otsuichi: A Japanese horror novel about a boy who has impulses to kill and a girl who is suicidal. Both of them are attracted to death and interested in the grotesque and macabre. Endless trigger warnings for this, from animal abuse to obvi murder. It's one of my favorite horror novels, if not my absolute favorite horror novel. The story is unique, and uniquely Japanese in it's telling. I reread it every October.

Another by Yukito Ayatsuji: The other horror novel I reread every October, another uniquely Japanese story about a class that's cursed, where a dead kid ends up in the class every year, but no one can identify who it is that's dead. And, the more they interact with the dead student, the more likely everyone is to die. There's an anime adaptation of this, it's pretty decent though it feels more like "Final Destination: The Anime" than the novel does. There's also a manga, I know nothing about the manga. But yeah, read the novel, it's fun.

Mordred, Bastard Son by Douglas Clegg: One of my favorite Arthurian stories, it retells the King Arthur story from a perspective of Mordred, who in this rendition is a very kind hearted gay man. I don't like the portrayal of King Arthur in it really, but that's all of like, 5 sentences. The story really hovers on our protag Gay Mordred and the shit he goes through. Pretty sure it won an award for gay literature. The downside is it's a cliff hanger ending an the author never released the follow up (it's been almost two decades, idk if we're getting it). Book is like, 40% of where my name comes from.

Pretty much any Nisioisin book. He just has a really clever wit, and a story telling style that feels very fun and vibrant. My favorite of his books is probably Kizumonogatari, which is a prequel of Bakemonogatari, follows Koyomi Araragi saving a vampire and in turn becoming a vampire himself. I additionally love his book Zaregoto, which is a locked room mystery, and his books Katanagatari, martial artist goes on a journey to collect mystical swords. He's a fantastic writer, look into a book from him.

Shades of Grey: The Road to High Saffron by Jasper Fforde: I haven't read this in over a decade, but I've claimed it to be my favorite book since. I really should reread it. It takes place in a post apocalyptic world where humans eye sight has devolved and a caste system has formed around what colors people can see.

Some other novels I really like are Insomnia and The Dead Zone by Stephen King, Phantoms by Dean Koontz, Feed by M.T. Anderson, I Want to Eat Your Pancreas by Yoru Sumino, and the Spice & Wolf series by Isuna Hasekura.

#me #novels

[chronicas]

I've been following you for so long but I know nothing about your OCs (how? Idk.) so how about a basic rundown or something? Who's on the roster.

Ooooh man we've got a menagerie of guys over here in the Noxsylvaniaverse. Sorry I went overboard.

WELCOME TO THE NEW REQUIRED READING (joking)

ARRAY OF CICADAS Akira Akamatsu -> Devan Ranim -> Karma Gjalleon

Genre: Fantasy, Sci-fi Core themes: Comradery, grief, and redemption

Array of Cicadas is about a girl struggling with grief and the adventure that helps her come to terms with it. Akira is the protagonist (but not the main character) of AoC. Growing up in the magical realm of Genesis, Akira was raised as a Fire Mage, hiding from her family and everyone she knew that in reality she's an extremely rare Elemental Mage. She hid her power solely because she REALLY didn't like the son of the dragons (Ryuji, he's on this list in spirit) who would've become her teachers had she revealed herself. She moved from her magical homeworld to live on Earth and go to college after her sister's death. Family drama gets her thrown into Hveske where she meets her soon-to-be best friend, Devan! Devan is best described as Positive Change Personified. As the true main character of the story, there are very few people who's lives aren't improved by having this little guy in it. He meets Akira in the middle of his own personal quest to help his friends take down the Izebellian Empire, that's currently threatening to take over his home realm Hveske. Devan might still be just a kid, but he's always coming up with bright ideas that've gotten him and his friends out of dozens of scraps. Karma Gjalleon is the main antagonist of AoC. An unknown threat looms far greater and more powerful than that of the Izebellian Empire, that is the Regicidal Regent, Karma Gjalleon! She was once ruling regent of Hveske a few thousand years ago, but decided to broaden her horizons and now plans to conquer the entire universe! Her desire is to eradicate all tyranny by becoming the ultimate tyrant, once she has successfully done this, she wishes to be taken down herself by a righteous hero.

Array of Cicadas: Cryptadia Serendipity Grace Vulcan -> Salem Graves -> Qwynn Vandale

Genre: Urban Fantasy, Mystery Core themes: Identity, love (DIFFERENT from romance), stress/pressure

Array of Cicadas: Cryptadia is the second installment of AoC, taking place at the same time as the first. Akira disappears from the small Coloradian town of Adderdeen, kicking off a series of events that binds three of the town's most extraordinary people together to solve an interdimensional mystery. Serendipity is a teenage vampire who's adoptive family sent her to Adderdeen to study under the renowned Master Alchemist James Emperor. Serendipity lives with a poorly understood condition that makes it difficult for her to use her own magic, therefore she had to give up the family trade of witchcraft to learn about a more external magic like Alchemy. She struggles best she can to keep up with her magical studies as well as her high school studies as a foreign exchange student at Adderdeen High School. After she's found out as a vampire by her classmate Qwynn, she gets roped into a whole new world of mystery. She just hope her grades don't suffer too much as a result. Salem is a local celebrity in Adderdeen as host of a popular local radio show he titled The Nightwatch, a show cracking down on local supernatural sightings. He also balances his job as a mortician on top of it as well as raising his teenage sister single-handedly.. all while not letting it slip he's West Virginia's Very Own Mothman! After an encounter with an old moth-like spirit and a chaotic interdimensional entity at 13, Salem has to deal with being a towering moth monster when he's not in his glamored human form. He also takes on the daunting task of keeping the supernatural hotspot of Adderdeen a simple tourist town without letting the truth of the supernatural slip up. Qwynn is a simple teenage girl with simple aspirations. She wants to keep up her honor student status, get a good scholarship, get into a good, local, college, and also help her parents with their Monster Hunting Gig. Daughter of a human mother and a werewolf father, Qwynn is the only of her three siblings to not inherit lycanthropy from her father, much to her annoyance. Without claws or fangs to take down some of Adderdeens more unnatural inhabitants, Qwynn has to improvise with quick and flashy magic and even faster blades. All for the good of a town that will ideally never know the service her family provides. She makes it a point to investigate any strange happenings in Adderdeen, so it doesn't take long for her to figure out her new classmate is secretly a vampire or that the mortician who works with her mom is Mothman.

Array of Cicadas: [REDACTED] Penumbra -> Aranea Weltgeist -> Izebel Lucifer Walpurgis

Genre: Fantasy, Sci-fi Core themes: Knowledge, war, hope

Not much I can say about this installment as it would spoil the mysteries I'm setting up for AoC and AoC:C. But I CAN say this third and final installment of this story sets up the final confrontation and brings all our previously introduced characters together. Penumbra is a force by which many things have come to an end. Two thousand years ago she was merely a scientist who aspired to know more about the world around her. Her drive to learn more was inevitably her downfall. Her lover and enemy, Kirke, would later go on to use her findings to create a curse meant to Destroy the Universe. Aranea is a teenage visionary Created by her Father Out of Love using Alchemy. Her father, Issac Weltgeist, was found and murdered by the Izebellian Empire for his reasearch as a Master Alchemist. As a homunculus herself, Aranea was kidnapped in case she hid any secrets of her fathers research. Quickly dismissed by Kirke as useless to the empire's research on homunculi, Aranea was told to watch after the child Empress Izebel, who was only a few years younger than Aranea herself. Aranea spent the next two years searching for a way to escape the empire. Her plans where put into motion early when she found they had acquired the legendary sword Excalibur. Stealing the sword, Aranea made her escape. Izebel is a bit more of a figurehead as Empress of the Izebellian Empire. She was created by the sorceress Kirke to be the vessel for her curse. While she is a living source of destruction, Izebel is treated with respect by her underlings. However, the only person to truly show her kindness, was Aranea. Izebel quickly took to viewing Aranea as an older sister, and demanded she be treated with the respect an Empress' sister deserved. She did her best to give Aranea everything she wanted to make her happy, but refused to let her leave. When Aranea finally escaped, she left Izebel confused, heartbroken, and enraged.

Mother of the Apocalypse Alexios -> Asterius Polaris -> Armageddon

Genre: Cyberpunk, Fantasy, Tragedy Core themes: Family, lies, perseverance

MotA has nothing to do with AoC, and is instead it's own independent world. It's a story about a prophecy told by the Goddess of Fate to her oracles. That entails the end of the world at the hands of the Mother of the Apocalypse, only able to be stopped by the Savior of the Rim. How this prophecy ends, is up to Fate. Alexios is the son of Kepus, the Goddess of Life and Death, and himself, the Savior of the Rim. He much despises his own title. All he did to earn it was stop a Colossus that was bent on the destruction of a Spire. Now he's wrapped up in probably the dozenth prophecy in a life that's lasted over a millennia. Problem with this prophecy is that it wants him to kill someone to save the world, and he put such violence behind him centuries ago. With his newly adopted child to take care of, Alexios can't think much on how he'll save the world while sparring it's vessel of destruction. Asterius is the son of Taphion, the God of the Crypt, and Septentria, the Northern Star. However he spent the first 13 years of his live believing himself a demigod who had a human mother he never hat the opportunity to meet. Once his true identity was revealed to him, as well as his role in the prophecy as the Beast of the Crypt, a monster born to stand as the guardian of the Mother of the Apocalypse, he ran. He landed in the care of a hero, who he would later discover was the very man destined to kill him, the Savior of the Rim. After Alexios became determined to find a way to break the "curse" on Asterius (a clever lie the kid fabricated so he didn't have to reveal to his would-be murderer who he really was), the man came to see Asterius as his own child. As much as Asterius loves his new father, he can never bring himself to tell him the truth. Armageddon is the titular Mother of the Apocalypse. Daughter of Ignarus, the God of Destruction, she is destined to raze civilization to the ground. Unfortunately for Ignarus, she would rather die than have any part in the Apocalypse he curated for her. When the Savior of the Rim does finally come for her, she and Alexios' mutual interest in stopping the Apocalypse though means different than Fate has offered draws them closer together. Armageddon comes to believe that maybe their love will prove stronger than Fate herself.

LIZ and the Biohazards Logan Griffiths -> Samantha Griffiths -> Miriam Riveria

Genre: Horror, Sci-fi Core themes: Rebellion, survival, girlhood

Oh man I would love to tell y'all ALLLL about this comic, but as I am literally working on the script rn, you'll have to wait and see for most of it. But MAINLY, it's a story about a teenage science experiment who grew up in a lab and decides to break free and experience all the world has to offer. (Previously titled Unchained Phenomena) Logan Griffiths is labeled by most of the people who know him as a crazy conspiracy theorist, but Logan knows what he's seen and what he's heard. His son was sent to war almost 18 years ago and never came back. The last letter he received from his son detailed the horrors he had seen on the front lines, saying he fought beside people who "weren't people anymore". Ever since Logan has worked to crack down on the government's experiments on humans, and expose what decades of propaganda and coverups have worked so hard to hide. One disaster strikes the government base he's spent a decade studying, and his answers are delivered right to him with one phone call from some friends. He just didn't expect them to come in the form of a young girl. S-072, or Sam, as she prefers to call herself now, was created in a government lab after the Bio War ended in an attempt to bolster Texas' defenses as it stands on the brink of independence. S-072 was designed for espionage, with the original intent being to create a human who could alter their physiology to mimic anyone. However, while she can indeed alter her physiology, the raw-looking flesh and bone she is able to warp and change isn't going to pass as anyone alive. After the initial failure, they found that S-072 was better suited for just slaughtering things. She could withstand bullet wounds after training, she could warp herself into her own weapons, and was overall the perfect killing machine. Too bad someone started putting ideas in her head. Miriam is a survivor of war. She wasn't a soldier, but she was a sister, and a daughter. Her hometown was hit with a biological weapon and she lost her family and was left sick, disabled, disfigured, and traumatized. She did her best to survive, but unable to work, living on fixed income wasn't cutting it. When the government offered her an experimental cure for her illness, she took it without reading the fine print. Subjected to many experiments, but never a real cure, Miriam plotted a way out.

THE MIXED BAG OF RANDOM GUYS! "Charlie" -> Caelum Ketch - Jinlong

Dream Journal: The Central Mind

Genre: Horror, Sci-fi Core themes: The unknown, death, grief

This story is from a dream I had that I've reworked to make a story that I'd love to make into a short comic someday. The basic idea of the dream (maybe nightmare) was there was a family that lived on an island who were studying an interdimensional entity. Shortly after they moved to this island, their daughter died. Something, someone else.. came back. "Charlie" is the name of the person who is distinctly NOT Charlotte to anyone who looks close enough. A fragmented piece of a much larger entity with the mind and memories of the late Charlotte, Charlie is just trying to solve the mystery of why her family keeps acting so strange around her.

Cache of Sybaris

Genre: Sci-fi Core themes: Idk man it's just fun Space Pirates babeyyyyyy

The Sybaris Galaxy celebrates the many rich cultures that exist within it, art and culture is a top priority of the Galactic Union! So when the entirety of the latest Trivlexian exhibit on the planet Nik is stolen by Captain Wretch and her band of pirates, it becomes a Galaxy wide chase to steal it back! Especially to other pirate crews who might never have the chance to catch a better score. Ketch is one of such pirates who's crew is after Captain Wretch and her recently stolen goods. While most are after the art that was in the exhibit, the crew of the Red Death is much more interested in the Trivlexian technological artifacts. Namely because Ketch, the crew's finest mechanic, is Trivlex himself. Ketch knows well enough that anyone who isn't rich enough to be able to conveniently ignore is knows all Trivlexian artifacts are stolen, but he has no noble ambitions for his people's artifacts. He just wants to make better weapons and improve his crew's ships. Regardless of how many bounties it gets on his head in the process.

Shifting Stars and Moving Mountains

Genre: Fantasy Core themes: Grief, change, culture

SS+MM is a story that takes place in the same universe as Array of Cicadas, but remains mostly disconnected from the main story. It follows the dragons of Genesis, their politics, culture, and how they influence the rest of the realm. Jinlong is a young dragon, just a few decades over 500, who grew up during the Great Dragon Hunts. Jinlong lost both of his parents in the hunts, he survived the only way he could in such a time of hostility towards dragons, he lived as a human. A human family took him in and treated him as their own. Jinlong spent so long as a human he slowly lost touch of what it meant to be a dragon. After his youngest human sister died at the EXTREMELY impressive age of 200, Jinlong was taken in by Sage Ragnormr, an ancient dragon who advised him to rest. And rest he did, for 2000 years, Jinlong slept, regaining the strength he expended from holding his body in human form for so long. He awakes in the modern era, things have changed drastically, and this little dragon needs to learn what it really means to be a dragon again.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAND I have 400+ other ocs that I won't cover on this post, but if anyone is ever curious about my silly little guys, there's nothing in the WORLD that brings me more joy than getting to talk about them with other people :)

#asks #ophidian lore #array of cicadas #array of cicadas: cryptadia #mother of the apocalypse #liz and the biohazards #unchained phenomena #dream journal #cache of sybaris #shifting stars and moving mountains

[morgana-artt]

Heres some LoP tidbits of my OC Louis as well as a few sketches I did!

Moving from place to place was already hard enough for a little Louis but as his uncle travelled for work he'd always have to bring him along. Until one day, the one job his uncle had to do was too dangerous for little Louis to be around, although he had no idea what kind of job his uncle had to do (he also suspected his uncle didn't either as the alchemist's started to become nothing but whispers at this point) he was then placed into a boarding school and was only meant to be there for a couple of weeks.

Unfortunately, a letter arrived saying his uncle went missing and as the years went by Louis was now 19 and was taken in by a man name Malphos as Louis never made it as a stalker but a researcher for the alchemists. Malphos was not a nice man and often used Louis as a human decorative for all the rich folks that would attend the shows, upon without consent Malphos placed ergo inside Louis to see how far the human body can go and Louis having no choice but to allow it. As the years went by the ergo that was placed in Louis's chest began to crystalized and it hurt. Bad. But alas, he couldn't do anything about it as he had Malphos watching eye on him 24/7.

Louis knows there's about to be an end, will he become a crystalized human ergo port for those to just snatch the ergo away? Or will he able to find a solution? He doesn't know but he's not giving up as he needs to find his uncle and see if he can help even with a horrid shadow looming after him.

#lies of p oc #lies of p #oc #canon x oc

[afreakingdork]

Weak Spot - Chapter 27

RotTMNT Donatello x Reader

Warnings: Aged-up Turtles, Romance, Meet Cute, Villain Donatello, Cussing, Crushes, Xenophobia, Fear, Intimidation, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Hurt/Comfort, Love, AFAB Reader, Vaginal Sex, Sex Rough, Sex, Penis In Vagina Sex, Creampie, Teasing, Scent Kink, Sexual Tension, Breeding Kink, Multiple Orgasms, Cunnilingus, Fellatio, Marathon Sex, Somnophilia, Intercrural Sex

Synopsis:  A love story of villainous proportions! Though it hadn’t come easily, as these things rarely do, you found yourself in a whirlwind romance with a handsome and mysterious mutant. His idiosyncrasies had been easy to ignore as attraction grew into something more. However, will love endure when the unknowns about him end up being far darker than you ever considered?

We the Common (For Valerie Bolden) by Thao & the Get Down Stay Down

Also available on Ao3

First 💜 Previous

There is little I recall from the beginning.

It is a facet of biology that children’s brain’s are undeveloped.

Mine would come to fruition earlier than most.

Before that, however, time is lost.

I often wondered about it.

I’ve pieced together what I could.

From what I gathered, it’s presumably for the best.

That doesn’t mean I’ve fully accepted the unknown.

Regardless. 

I was born a regular softshell turtle.

Whether I was wild or something else, I remain unsure.

What I do know is I came into possession of a yokai known as Baron Draxum; the warrior alchemist I have mentioned before. To expand, the paranoid fool believed humanity would destroy the yokai. Thus, he dedicated his life to becoming a mockery in this pursuit. After presumably a series of failures within the Hidden City, he, as the obsessed do, came up with the harebrained scheme to weaponize and mutate earth’s creatures. Thus, using the DNA of a washed up martial artist, he created four turtle mutants.

What follows are the lost years.

The ones I spoke of. 

An unknown amount of time, until fragments came.

My first memory was looking through the bars of a cage while two foul-mouthed yokai loomed over me.

Olfaction is the only sense processed by the amygdala and hippocampus.

I’m forever plagued by how their teeth were rotted out.

Next, there was rope around my neck.

They yelled.

They only ever yelled.

When they weren’t laughing.

It’s strange how one can learn the words afterwards and still not be able to parse out what your told originally.

They forced me into the water. We’re by a lake and I didn’t drown. I think they wanted me to swim. They knew I could before I realized the same.

I swam.

The rope yanked me back.

I hated it.

I hated them.

I couldn’t put a word to the feeling.

I didn’t know it or any other.

I spent hours chewing at the rope.

I never managed more than some wear before there was a fresh one.

There was always another.

I remember how rough it was and how it rubbed my skin in an agonizing way.

Every time I pulled-

And I never stopped doing so.

-it dug deeper and deeper.

The cage was cold, wet metal and I was aware every time they hurled me into it after they made me swim. I sat outside in the elements while they dawdled away their evenings in a hovelled shack.

I would find later that children feared the dark.

I never did.

It was a calm reprieve.

As was the water, even if I was forced into it. 

Most often, I wanted to be in the water.

There, I didn’t feel the leash or the gnawing pain in my throat.

They wanted something from me and it took far too long for me to figure out what.

It was enough time that I began to pick up words and their meanings.

They didn’t want me to swim; they wanted me to dive. There were scraps there, submerged from ancient times.

I didn’t find out until I was an adult that these were bits of Krang technology. Halitosis likewise rotted their brains as they thought a child could unearth the whole of it. I could tell the first time I successfully made it that far down that it was an impossible task. That’s how long it took; enough for me to develop my first sense of critical thinking. 

I tried regardless.

I failed predictably. 

They beat me every time I came up empty handed.

They referred to me as a dog which I accepted. It was an existence I pondered as it was one of servitude and simplemindedness. They would say things like ‘if I was a better one then I wouldn’t fight back.’ I wondered what other dogs were like.

Why wouldn’t they? 

Why had I failed?

Why was I different?

Why were they?

Even when my lungs screamed, I stayed submerged as long as I possibly could. I clawed at the wreckage until eventually bits came off. The first time I finally returned from the murky depths with a prize, the pair jumped for actual joy. For the first time, I felt something other than the ever present loathing. It lasted a few seconds before they turned and kicked me back into the water. 

They wanted more. 

The suddenness nearly drowned me.

It was there I recall my first true sentence, as I came up hacking up pond scum. 

“You think that was enough? Keep going ya mangy mutt!”

From sun up until sun down, I dove.

My lung capacity grew and I learned to ignore the burn.

I was given more time away. 

I took advantage of it. 

When your world is so small, you are forced to take in details slowly. 

Even with a child’s greed, I had no choice, but to make what I had last. The lake was cloudy, but there was minute visibility. I found as long as I didn’t disturb the silt then I would have moments where I could survey. The images have since lost their clarity, but I remember the way light would bounce off the metal and how it fascinated me. 

It nearly paralleled my interest in processes of deconstruction.

I realized there was a methodology to what I was retrieving. It wasn’t random; it was something. I was mesmerized. I didn’t know what it did, but I could imagine. As I dismantled it, I began to log every detail. I believed that one day I could get into the shack and take back the parts. At night I ran through the manifest. I dismantled and rebuilt what I had interacted with. I fell in love with creation and craftsmanship.

When I was not working or left to sleep, and this amounted to little in the scheme of things, I ate. Raised on a diet of rotten slop, I despised how wasteful the two yokai were. They never finished their food and what they didn’t eat, they used as bait. While I dove, they fished. I watched from underwater. I saw how the small swimming creatures, who I’d never bothered to get close to, nervously darted around the hook. Not all took and I note how plumper ones escape. It spoke to something I tried to fathom. Weight was not something I had the privilege to put on. It was not until one night when One threw a picked clean skeleton at me that I realized they could be eaten.

Something alive could be devoured. 

The process took longer to crack than disassembling the machine parts. This was because the other act was fueled by desperation. It wasn’t that I sated; gruel and genetics merely sustained me. Instead, my goal was to capture a portion of what they had. If I couldn’t perform as a dog, which I continued to fail at, then I wanted to prove that I was not. With little time between dives, I hurried as their expectations were for me to resurface in a timely manner. The first time I caught a fish, I was stunned by the life in my hands. It wriggled with a force I had not predicted and its scales shimmered in its struggle.

Even instinctually, a creature will fight with all it has to stay alive. 

It got away. 

I felt kinship. 

I was not the only one to struggle in what was otherwise a perilous situation. 

It gave me an idea.

The second, I sunk my teeth into.

Its life drained under my tongue.

In a fervor, I devoured it.

Its bones stuck to my gums, but I swallowed it whole.

The torn flesh now internal; I didn’t care.

With lake water tingeing every bite, that taken life gave me a plan.

Existence can be traded if the right one is executed. 

I only needed proper time. 

It required time.

I had time.

How lucky then, that I had become so good at rationing such a thing out.

The last of this era was categorized in upgrades. The yokai’s shack was repaired. My baby teeth fell out. The yokai got a new boat. My adult teeth came in. Not realizing the difference and never to be told, I continued to chew the rope as a soothing practice. The revelation that my new molars had higher function only came as I snapped the woven structure.

It was unfortunate that it coincided with early morning.

I had only a handful of minutes untethered until I was found, behind bars, supposedly free.

What followed was a norm: they screamed and kicked the cage.

They left, which wasn’t unheard of, but a point of mark.

When they returned, they had what they referred to as a gift.

I had never received one and didn’t know what to make of it. They pushed a large box in front of my cage, expectantly. Having never experienced this, I had no knowledge regarding how to proceed. They had nothing to yank and this infuriated them. One ripped the box open while the other got more rope and a pole. I was captured within my imprisonment and dragged out. There they presented me with the rope’s alternative.

I never thought I would miss those rough fibers.

I only glimpsed a shape before it was locked into place. 

Though I couldn’t see it, I could smell the shock collar.

It had a new scent and as the two yokai stepped away, I was troubled.

I had never been without the rope, especially not outside my cage.

I thought of running, but that wasn’t the plan.

Instead, I examined the object with my fingers and the two yokai snickered.

I had no time nor foresight to prepare when I heard the click of a button on a remote.

Next thing I knew, I was on the ground and their cackling soared above the burning buzz that filled my being. The current was continuous and felt like streams of water animating my skeleton. When it stopped, I layed and watched as my finger twitched in front of my face.

This would become their new whim.

And investment.

At this point I’d unearthed much of the debris at the base of the lake and they knew it. My hauls were lighter and the scrap was less valuable. Want drove them and I entered the shack for the first time. It was a gaudy mismatch that my eye lingered on, causing the button to be pushed. I kept my gaze down after that and learned to steal what was around me in slivers. It was yet another exercise in patience. I wasn’t here to observe, I was here because this is where they stored their plans. On a messy table lay crudely drawn schematics and a map’s layout. They droned on about boat tours and theatrics. The concept made sense, but I did not see the point.

Why participate in an act?

Others did not share my sentiment. 

Construction took less than a week and as if waiting, Yokai came.

Families.

I lurked in the water, followed the boats, and enacted shoddy mechanisms to make things happen.

I’d picked apart far more advanced technology under minute time constraints.

The property expanded to accommodate a gift shop and an information booth.

The former gave me context. 

Shock collars were reserved for whatever dogs were supposed to be.  

The two yokai talked of erecting an entire theme park. 

They’d have riches beyond their wildest dreams.

They were rapidly becoming sloppy.

They began to forget I wasn’t compliant. They didn’t pay enough attention to realize the shocks were scorching skin with fried nerve endings. It hit my musculature similarly, but I was adapting. Little by little I learned to move against the spasms; work within them.

Time. 

The attendants were similar.

They didn’t watch their children. They didn’t care about their surroundings. They’d only wanted. They had so much they left it behind. I was given a chance to try foods I couldn’t comprehend from wrappers with leftover saliva on them. I picked up trinkets and trash both because I was directed to and because there was a wealth being discarded. They had no idea. I was often watched and pointed out with jeers.

They had no idea. 

I found desires fickle.

I wanted more, which made me like them.

I did not want to be like them.

I was not like them. 

I wanted to be something else.

I was something else. 

Something new.

That morning felt hot. It was the day of rest in the rudimentary count I had learned as I would yet to learn about calendars. The two yokai were in their shack and would be for the next hour.

I began.

With a bent wire that had fallen from some yokai’s fur, I picked the lock on my cage. I’d had years to study the mechanism and, in pilfered glimpses, I’d garnered the shape of the key. Mental mapping allowed me to recreate it and, within minutes, I was free. I then scoured where the ground had been tilled and marked. This was where the park would be. I doubted it would be now. 

I acknowledged my arrogance.

There was always a chance things could go wrong. 

I similarly doubted that. 

In the heaps of dirt I had buried little pieces of trash. It was a place left unchecked. If ever they did happen upon something, they choked it up to the patrons. I could garner a loss. I’d never accounted for materials in the first place. With my arms full, I laid out the trail. It led from the front door of the shack to the dock. It was a selfish part of me that wanted it to happen where they’d brutalized me the most.

There was also the chance it was warped nostalgia.

In what I considered my penultimate dive, I entered the water. Adept, I shot straight towards the first attraction which was a tether that lifted some painted board. It took time without the stability of land, but I removed the cord. It was clear to the untrained eye. I swam back to the dock and rigged my own mechanism. One leagues beyond anything the two simpletons could prepare. Then I returned to my cage and put myself in another of my lasts: a holding pattern.

Melancholy plagued me until the shack door was kicked open. One of the yokai stepped out onto the planks of the porch and scratched his belly. He came down with smacking lips that made my skin crawl. I watched on as he fought wakefulness and caught sight of the line of detritus.

“Hey Floyd…” One gruffed, stepping off the porch to lord over it.

“What!?” Two’s voice emanated from the bowels of the shack.

In a suspicious snap, One’s eyes were on me.

I stared back openly.

He sneered with a peek of green and yellow teeth. “Some kid pullin’ a prank.”

“So? Make the dog clean it up!”

“It leads to the docks. They mighta tamp-ered with sum’thin.”

“Damnit, Pervis!” There was a clatter of cans before Two emerged. He was mad and glowered at his companion before he saw how the line of trash perfectly led away. “Well ain’t that sum’thin.”

“We gotta go check it.”

“Just don’t step in flaming shit again. Ya think be-fore ya act!”

“One time!”

The pair started following the trail with a wide breadth and continued to bicker.

They didn’t hear the faint creak of the rusty cage door. They didn’t sense me follow. They approached the dock openly, rapidly losing caution as they looked for the damage they’d equated to a child.

The wrong child.

The pair stepped in the same file I’d seen them execute a thousand times. One led first and headed right. Two followed in a hunch going left. Neither saw the clear wire even as I saw the sun shining off of it. It triggered and, for a moment, the two searched for the source of the snapping sound. Then, in a wind that sounded like their fishing rods, a stone dropped and the line pulled tight. Wire bounced free and caught on the first thing in its way: their bodies.

In an instant they were laid out under a net of sorts and started spitting up a storm. They wriggled uselessly and I finally approached to watch them with little interest. I’d never seen them from above.

They looked small.

Two had landed in a way that pressed his face to the side on the dock where he could see me. “Damnit, Pervis! It’s the fucking dog!!”

 One was not so lucky as he stared into the reeds. “Where?!”

“Over… You dumb’fuck!” Two stopped moving and split a grin. “Thing thinks it’s cute. Getting a lil payback?”

Grunts came as One wriggled to see.

I stepped up to Two and tilted my head.

I wondered what position he thought he was in.

His awareness had been lost for quite some time.

“I have been think-ing we should finally upgrade. Get a real pet. We have enough funds, wouldn’t cha say Pervis?”

One caught wind of the self-assured tone and was wrongfully pacified. “Flush like a toilet, Floyd!”

“Ya see, dog. We ain’t dumb. We seen you watching with your creepy fucking stare. It was bound ta happen one day, so I’ll give ya kudos for pulling one over.”

I took a step back.

“Heh, you get it.” With a flap of his hand, Two slapped his thigh where his arm was pinned.

The shocks hit me and I dropped to my knees.

Two bursted out laughing. 

“I know that sound!” One chirped before joining into the ear grating cacophony.

I gave them their moment and was slow to stand.

“What the…?” Two still held onto the tail end of tittering as he slapped his thigh again. 

I could feel the voltage rise.

They’d done this before.

To watch me ‘dance.’

My very being was vibrating and my vision of him was garbled.

“How in the-!?” The slapping on his leg was palpable and One started crying out in confusion.

I walked forward.

There was effort, but it wasn’t unmanageable.

I reached Two with my toes right near his mouth.

He gaped at them and then up at me.

I mimicked the grin he gave me before I dropped.

His screams rained out over the lake.

His life drained under my tongue.

One added to the clamor until it was his turn.

Spitting out the vestiges of rotten meat, I finally acquired the remote. The collar was still going in what must have been its ever longest run. The scent of seared flesh emanating from me smelt nothing like the bonfires the pair of yokai had. It took me mere milliseconds to figure out the off switch and even less for the release. The collar dropped to the ground and I kicked it into the lake. I watched until it sank and wondered if it would be unearthed as treasure one day. I then headed to the shack. There was nothing I wanted there, but I wiped off the mess their blood left on my body as an insult to their tawdry decadence. Having made my mark, I left.

My time as a street urchin was short. The city wasn’t far, but, at this point, I refused to be seen again. My neck throbbed constantly, but I channeled the pain to heighten my awareness. The hustle and bustle wasn’t something I could have prepared for as it quintupled anything I ever saw at the lake. I was plagued with attacks I didn't understand and had no time to deal with them. I hid in alleys, closed shops, and amongst bags of trash. I ate a diet of leavings. I missed fish.

I didn’t chance one place and kept moving. I didn’t believe I was seen, but if I was, I saw no repercussions. After the initial stress wore off, I began another vigil. It was a grand scale of mechanics applied in a way that seemed palatable; I found society worked the same as cogs within a machine. Everything had its place in a grand scheme of organization. I learned some buildings were for public consumption and others were privately owned. Yokai came and almost always operated in patterns. They moved themselves from place to place as they did objects. That life would be so arbitrary seemed inane, but I had nothing to compare it to.

It was in the second week that I truly registered the stench radiating from me. It took several more days until I found an open bathroom window of an empty domicile. I felt hot water for the first time. I saw my image in a mirror for the first time as well. I was not sure what to make of it. I had not seen anything like me. Clean, I left the place and continued on. I was fatigued of sleeping outside, but there was a monetary system I was still getting a hold of. Then, by chance, I saw a group of yokai around my height. I gave chase. 

They laughed and played in the same carefree way that I had seen children do at the lake. They did not, however, have looming larger yokai overhead. They did not have ropes or collars. They moved of their own volition. Then they stopped to eat. They had the necessary currency. I watched from the shadows as they challenged each other to some contest and lights came off of them. One’s eyes glowed. Another could hold energy in the palm of their hand. Yet more didn’t show outward signs, but charged with strength that wasn’t there before.

My brain worked in overdrive.

I had to commit this to memory. 

If they could do it, I could as well. 

One mentioned ‘story time’ and the group lurched in a rushed formation. 

A piece of fabric was left behind.

Looking down at myself, I recognized a difference. 

I was missing the proper suiting.

Not all, but most yokai I had found fashioned wraps around them in various ways. There appeared in a multitude of colors and shapes. The one left behind was a shade I’d never encountered. It looked to be my size and I put it on in the way that made sense. Arms through tubes and head sprouted from the smaller of the two openings, I examined the excess fabric around the neck. A brief study found it to be a hood which had a securing quality as I brought it up over my head.

Trailing the scent of the little yokai, I came upon a glorious building. Its grand exterior sat upon a series of stairs and I caught a glimpse of the last small yokai rushing through the doors as they closed. Looking down at my hoodie, I followed behind. The steps were treacherous in my mind as they offered no protection. No one seemed to look on as I traversed them with a foreign approach. The doors were heavy and it took all my weight to yank them open. Once inside, I waited for the screams to start and prepared my hasty exit. Silence came and I found it to be one of the sweetest things I’d heard to date. The lake had a life to it and this building was not devoid, but interiors greatly contrasted nature.   

I would never forget the moment I lifted my head.

What I would come to find were books, lined a multitude of shelves. The entrance sat in an octagon that rose up with floor after floor in what seemed like an infinite stack. A large eared yokai with pointy clothes sat upon a centered podium and loomed over without seeing as she poured over something at her desk. I thought her to be the operator of this establishment and would come to find I was right. The yokai children blinked by on the second level and I found myself rushing after them.

I never caught up.

Instead, I found that outside the sense of the main room, everything beyond defied what I had come to know about natural order. Staircases carried on in omnidirectional patterns with bookcases doing the same. There was an entire ecosystem here unlike anything I had ever seen. I knew right then that this was a place where one could get lost and never return.

I thought nothing better could exist in this bleak world.

I would not step foot outside even once in the coming years. Surrounded by nothing but knowledge, I found how starved I was. My existence equally shrank and expanded endlessly. Food became my only limited resource as I quickly found it was prohibited. Thankfully, redundancies define this world and there were both vending machines and those who smuggled things in about to sustain me.

Finding enough to get by physically, I made a nest where two angled bookshelves left a strange triangle of space behind them. It only took the removal of a few books from a bottom shelf for me to squeeze in and garner a space that was, for once in my life, of my own choosing. I located a thing called ‘lost and found’ and learned of the comfort clothes and covers could bring. For myself I dressed in darker tones to blend in, but my child’s eye was naturally drawn to bright colors. This was how I discovered a beginner’s section of the library and began my journey.

Teaching myself to read was something I picked up quickly. I inadvertently found the lost story times and listened in at first. They mostly aided me in pronunciation until I quickly outpaced the books read. By this point, it should be known that I had yet to speak. The library’s law forbade it and my throat was a point of contention. Those compounded reasons along with finding no reason to do so meant I found it needless. Instead, I advanced the vocabulary of the mind. Running around, I matched books with dictionaries and jumped reading level after level.

Once I consumed everything within the children’s and then young adult’s sections, I grew tired of fiction. I had little to relate with asinine struggles and yearned for greater understanding of the world. With thousands of shelves at my disposal. It was difficult to know where to start. I bided my time and learned the Dewey Decimal Classification. Hoping it would give me clarity, I had been studying a quiz sheet on such that I had made myself using a notebook that was left behind by a student when a book dropped into my nest. Afraid I had been found, I cowered only to find a hand straining to reach the tiny hole. The owner of which simply muttered a nervous phrase about that not being their problem before selecting something else and leaving.

Leaving my notes, fluorescent light creating a lined tapestry in my little space, I approached the thick book. A haunting white figure was chiseled onto the cover and I inched forward to open it. The words proved the hardest yet, but I was ensnared. Thinking it fate, when I finished the book, lids heavy with exhaustion, I emerged and approached the librarian for the first time.

I stared up at her and she down at me. I had since picked up on her supreme sense of hearing and knew she was aware of my presence. However, if she knew I lived within the library walls, she never acted otherwise. Jarring me as it was only something I had seen done in retaliation, she swooped on her large wings and landed, ground level, in front of me. Free from her confines, she observed me through the little glasses perched on her nose before she knelt further down to look me in the eye. Fear at how easily she could snatch me away erupted, but she simply smiled.

“How can I help you, little one?”

Words.

I hadn’t chanced those.

I wasn’t ready.

Instead I offered her the little punch slip that had come from the fallen book.

She adjusted her glasses at it and then me.

“You can read all you want within these walls. The card is for check-out.”

I frowned and held it up anew.

She hummed with a sort of affection before offering me a spindly hand.

I shirked away from it.

She pointed up the podium. “To complete the process, you need to fill out a form.”

My heart beat so fast that I thought it would stop.

I was thankful I’d at least die where I’d been most happy.

I somehow managed to extend my hand when hers wrapped around the whole of me. I wriggled as, in a flap, we were soon airborne and a different sensation caught hold of my stomach. In a display, she soared above her destination in a grand tour of what the library had to offer. 

Exhilaration took the place of my anxiety.

Flying was another form of freedom.

When we landed, I’d almost forgotten about my quest. Sitting atop the podium, she pulled out a slip of paper with little boxes. I studied the inputs curiously before she also produced a nearly blank sheet with exact perforations. Marveling at the little details, she made a few little notes while skipping over many of the assigned boxes. “I’ll need your name.”

I looked around.

She understood and slid me a piece of paper with a marker.

Staring at her with no way to translate my gratitude, I wrote out my name for the first time.

D-O-N-A-T-E-L-L-O

A mark of fate left on me by my first real book.

That library card would be the charting moment of my existence; my first ever piece of identification. 

Years blur after that. They were some of my happiest as I knew only peace. I read. I devoured history books. I traversed biographies of great minds. I learned of mechanics. I consumed encyclopedias that spanned entire sections. I’d unearthed the marvels of the Hidden City and the fabled land of Earth. I found out about computers. I was devastated to find that the technology had not taken off in this realm. From what I read though they contained even more knowledge than any one mind could imagine. The mental schematics I had concocted on the ceiling of my cage came in handy. I used them to learn to type on an imaginary computer. I wrote out and tested thousands of lines of codes without a harddrive.

The librarian took either a liking to or pity on me. She introduced vegetables into my diet by supposedly sharing her lunches. It was not lost on me that she had entirely separate packaged meals that she would leave out near some of my favorite study tables. I didn’t immediately take to the greens as much as the concept. It sent me bounding between biology and botany. She wasn’t the only one to leave an impression. I watched staunchly pressed yokai thumb through tomes of law. I spied on their strange appearance only for them to approach, overjoyed, to find anyone interested and instructed me on the greater machinations of the system enveloping us.

Even still, there were more than just the books. 

Papercuts taught me that pain wasn’t always inflicted by others. Mention of glasses brought me to the realization that my own sight was lacking. I found a pair in the lost and found. Their prescription was imprecise, but close enough. I marveled at the new found clarity. It imparted a sense of philosophy that had been an undercurrent in my life:

We cannot know what ails us until we see from beyond.

I believed my pursuit here was one that would never end.

This was my destiny. 

However, I was young.

I had energy.

I had an itch.

I had wants.

They exceeded knowledge. 

I yearned to create, driven by all that I had seen. I could improve. I improved my own mind. I could influence my surroundings. I existed for more. I began small. My first act was replacing a burnt out bulb. My curiosities sent me beyond the maintenance closet as I understood the functions of filaments. This bulb hadn’t ended its lifespan naturally. There had been a surge. It took me several days under the guise of quiet until I located faulty wiring within the walls. When I fixed it, the new light burned brighter than ever before.

I was hooked.

I went around fixing anything and everything that was broken or in disrepair.

Cleaning was a natural extension of this. 

There was a night janitor that I avoided, but he was never thorough enough. Psychology books taught me how surroundings influenced wellbeing. I tidied up during the day. It both improved my supposed headspace by giving me a sense of control while also allowing me to freely gather materials as I had in my earlier years. Library patrons quickly took notice of me, but I no longer held the same fear. Instead, they found me endearing. There was something to a child cleaning up and offering to take their trash. Their reactions were something I studied.

They ranged from affectionate to snide. Where some brought me candy, others made excess crumbs and scattered them on the floor. The implication was for me to lick them up, but I simply fetched a broom. There was something about how the long handle fit in my hands. I could swing it with ease. I had read bits from history books which sent me towards the library’s self-improvement section. Starting with a rudimentary book on martial arts, I was drawn to the mental aspect and, of course, the use of a bo staff. From there, I restructured my schedule. I would read, clean, and collect during the library’s open hours and train during the off ones. 

It offset a swath of my energy, but never the cravings from my hands.

With time, I had nearly every object repaired or renewed in the labyrinth. It left me with little more than repetition and gathering refuse. Combined with what I combed from lost and found, I studied manuals and built little machines. They were rudimentary ones, but they were mine. My workspace soon outgrew my nest, so I took to tables in far reaches so as not to bother patrons. I was building up to something of a remote controlled car, missing only a motherboard, when he first approached me.

“Would ya look at that.”

I scooped my device into my hand and ran to the next row when his voice chased me.

“Sorry for spooking ya kid! I just had a question!”

Nervous, the shush bats rattled up above and I pressed my shell to the comfort of my books as I waited for them to carry him away.

The rush of flapping never came and when I peeked out, he was looking to the ceiling with a curious glint to him.

As if sensing me, he turned with a lopsided grin. “I got a way with animals.”

Frowning, memories of dogs assaulted me.

I was a softshell turtle.

I was more.

“I’ll leave you be.” His voice came with a gruff softness. “I just wanted to know: it was you that fixed my cell phone the other day, wasn’t it?”

I peered a little further, knowing full well he could see me. 

I had, but I didn’t know who owned it. I’d hoped the owner wouldn’t come and claim it so I could dismantle it. There was procedure to these things. Per the rules above the lost and found, objects weren’t guaranteed past 72 hours. Usually no one returned for them, but there was a status to uphold. At least, there was an imaginary one I held with the librarian for allowing me to stay. 

“I dropped it from floor eight to corridor three. I figured it was a lost cause, but when I was heading out, I found it propped on the railing, perfectly fine minus some cracks in the screen. Was weird. Not the kind of thing that’s from around here.”

I stepped out then.

Cell phones were basically computers. 

That meant it didn’t come from the Hidden City; it came from above. 

Though I had yet to exercise my training, my body improved far faster than any of the martial arts books predicted.

I had faith I would not lose, but with the many warnings not to underestimate one's opponent, I kept my distance.

“I’ve seen you around. I do…” He looked to the side. “…business here, from time to time. A nice public place.”

I squinted. I could see him through my glasses and there was something off-putting about him. I had seen him before as well, but he never stayed longer than an hour. I rarely cared about the machinations of the others in the library beyond what I could learn from them. 

He put his hands in his pockets in what I assumed was a ploy to look less threatening. “You work here or something?”

I stared and squeezed the tech in my hand until it was nearly cutting.

“Oh, yup.” He gave a languid nod. “That’s two questions and I said only one.”

I gave a curt bob of my head.

“You’re a little stickler.” He gave a faint chuckle. “Did you fix my phone?” With a show of digging, he pulled out said device from his pocket and flipped it out.

I flicked my gaze between him and the object before giving another quick nod.

“Cool.” He looked at his phone one last time before pocketing it. “Thanks, kid.”

He turned to walk away and I will never understand what compelled me to chase after him.

He made it halfway down an aisle before he half turned to look at me over his shoulder. “Answer another question.”

I stopped so fast I rose up on the tips of my toes.

“You’re bored, ain’tcha?” He looked around the books.

I dropped my gaze to my feet.

“You like fixing stuff?”

I gave a slow nod.

“Want to fix more?”

When my gaze shot up, I saw a gold tooth in his smile.

“Excellent.”

My partnership with La Stanza was not something I would understand at first. It started with his name. I only knew bits of other languages thus far and had to look up the meaning. When asked he had simply responded that he was the guy you go to like one goes to any other room. It seemed nonsensical, but in reality what purpose was there to my own calling card?

Maybe fate touched him as well. 

It is hard to fault myself for being young, but I admit I knew something was off. Everything in the system I understood was transactional. When he asked me to meet him the next day in the cooking section, I found him waiting with a broken appliance on the table. He gave me space as I decided and then watched as I studied it. After a minor deconstruction to get a feel for the parts, I rebuilt it minus the broken one. I knew of a part similar and left it to go get what was necessary. When I returned he was sitting with a sleepy expression and continued to observe until I was done. I pushed it over to him and was all the more suspicious when he pressed it back.

“It’s a radio. Not much use in here. You can have it.”

I had questions.

I wasn’t sure I had a voice.

The damage to my throat was extensive.

My studies had pointed me towards vocal cord damage.

I hadn’t bothered to test otherwise.

I left it as a Schrödinger's cat.

“Can I be honest and this is definitely gonna sound like a put down, but kid, I swear if I have to keep looking at you, I gotta say it.”

I merely squinted at him.

“I can’t read your damn face.” He mimed a mitt over his. “You’re a blank green slate. I got a cousin that’s mute so that’s whatever, we do the jibber jabber.” His still raised hand turned and he tapped spread fingers to his chin several times. “But even if we don’t, I can look at him and see if he’s happy or sad or needs to take a shit. You though? Come on!”

I frowned and got up. 

I left him with the radio and he made a saddened sigh.

I didn’t see him for a week, but I studied what he’d left me with. I learned the gesture he had done was sign language. It found it was different as he often spoke things with his hands in a way that didn’t communicate anything other than emphasis. Taking a social cues book into the bathroom, I practiced expressions in the mirror and found what he was referring to. I weighed options of communication as I made my weekly rounds to the lost and found. A silk purple scarf was in there and I took it with me to my nest.

It was the color of the hoodie I had long outgrown and now used as a pillow.

Purple. 

Literature said it was a signifier of royalty in ancient times.

It represented power and ambition.

I liked the former and had the latter.

What a suitable shade.

I found La Stanza meandering in the mystery section a few days later.

‘What do you want with me?’ I stood with my feet apart and signed to him.

His eyes grew wide and a bright smile turned up only half his face. “Well I’ll be damned.”

‘I asked you a question.’

He chuckled softly and dropped down to a squat. “You know I figured you just had autism, but you’re a fur-real baby genius.”

I folded my arms.

“Eh.” He looked to the side and shrugged his shoulders. “Could be both, either way-” He brought his hands up to sign as he spoke. “I was right to approach ya.”

‘Well?’

“I’m looking to expand.” He leaned back until he landed on his butt and crossed his legs. “Business ain’t what it used to be and my boss treats me like shit.”

‘Business?’

“Work.” He gave a repulsed bob of his head. “I’m a salesman and a pretty face. I wasn’t gifted with technical skills like you, so I need a partner.”

I narrowed my eyes.

“We’ll start small. I bring you broke stuff and you repair it.”

I could feel the phantom ropes tug.

“What do you want in return? Money? Food? Supplies? You name it kid. You’ll be doing most of the work so…”

Goods in exchange for services.

The trade-off made it palatable. 

What did I want?

I wanted intangible things.

Space to work.

Things to work on.

Tools.

Those were tangible.

A computer. 

I didn’t quite have the same vocabulary with my hands as my mind.

I spelled out his name.

He looked surprised before checking up and down the bookcases. “You need a place to stay? I gotta be honest, kid. I don’t got much. My apartment is a one-room shit show in the back of a nail salon. You’re better off sleeping with one of these paperbacks as a pillow.”

I shook my head.

He squinted and then thought hard before something came to him. “’They come to me with what they need.’” His grin bounced in time with his head. “Make me a list and I’ll bring you the first electronics tomorrow. We meet in cooking, yeah?”

I was slow to give a nod.

“In my business we shake on deals. It’s an act ‘cause we’re all backstabbers, but we do it anyway.” He stood, dusted himself off, and held out his hand.

I reached a hand across my body and wrapped it comfortingly over my own shoulder.

A laugh started up in La Stanza, but he covered his mouth to keep from giving in. When he came down, he licked his lips. “You’ll do fine. I bet you’ll be able to tell from a mile away when I’m gonna turn on you. In fact, I’m almost looking forward to it. What you’ll become.” 

While every other word out of his mouth had an ulterior motive, there was something honest about in a way I had never encountered. It had me crossing the floor where we shook. I often return to a case study of this next period. Memories have faded to a point, but the rapid escalation I found with the mobster La Stanza was one for the ages. It started with me repairing what I quickly identified was human trash. Within weeks I had built up enough revenue for him that we moved on to upgrading existing contraband. 

I learned the humans and yokai were meant to be kept separate. 

Even if a majority shunned technology, there were still yokai who craved it. 

The pool was still small, however, and this market also exhausted quickly. Always onto the next thing, La Stanza then set on my table something I immediately pinged as tampered property. He only gave a knowing smile and I wondered how sustainable a business model was of breaking goods and then offering to fix them. It proved not to be much when, within the month, he came to the library black and blue.

It wasn’t my business. 

Mine was to fix. 

Toiling away, repair after repair. 

It cured the ache in my hands; it was all I was good for. 

Do to his own err, La Stanza asked to take a step back from physical goods. That was when I got my first computer. I had to repair it myself. There was no internet there to connect it to, but the programs downloaded were operational. All I cared about at first was finally writing all that code I had been saving to my mind’s databanks. However, I had a job to do first. I would spend my ‘working’ hours toiling away at the vague programs La Stanza asked for. I would create and then burn them into hard copies that he would then distribute. They had something to do with bugs, infections, and diverting funds, but all I cared about was whatever combinations of keys triggered one reaction to set off another. I was obsessed. I spent nearly all my waking time on the machine. I neglected all my other fields of study. 

With my hands often occupied, I had switched to communicating with my partner via a notepad document. It was near my ear that La Stanza one day crooned about diversifying interests. Without waiting for my response, he asked what I had in mind.

Right and wrong were not things I wholly understood. As concepts I had read of them, but it was hard not to see the leaking persuasion historians seeped into their work. They painted killers as martyrs. Laws at the time were broken because they were seen as unjust now even though they were accepted then. Visionaries were imprisoned for new ideas that would only translate to as momentous after they died. In reality, most of these people only suffered in their times.

It made no sense.

It didn’t matter to me what would happen when I was gone.

I had wants now.

Thus the computer work I suggested was one I viewed as altruistic. I needed a way to connect to the surface; to where computers really were. I’m not sure how he boosted the signal, but La Stanza always had a way of delivering. It meant I could finally see the code that others wrote in real time. Tampering with its faults was simply opening unlocked doors. The internet was free and intangible. If they wanted to keep me out, then they should have invested in even the base level of protection. Fully saturated in hypocrisy, I easily hacked firewalls. Exhausted, La Stanza could only tolerate watching me do this for a few hours a day. He tried to commiserate as a vested party, but he did not share my compulsion. Things could be generated with keystrokes that were beyond the requirements of materials. I built entire programs from the ground up just so I could create machines with my mouse. I tapped into the likes of which I never thought possible.

I wanted more.

At this point, I had a surplus of cash and sent the money back to the one who brought it to print out my designs.

It wasn’t enough. 

The next time La Stanza came around, I directed him to a table. He sat down across from me and I could tell he knew we were about to make a deal.

I slid the blueprints over to him and he took them with tempered curiosity.

Lifting them up to block his face, it was only when he lowered it did the lights gleam off gold.

“Lab.” My voice was dry and nasally to my ears.

I hadn’t meant to say it.

The sound had just popped out.

A manifestation of my desires.

La Stanza’s grin grew impossibly wide. “Done.”

I exited the library that day.

By my estimations, having only picked up the nuisances of time during my stay, it had been four years.

La Stanza led me to the door with his hand on my back. As we drew near, I shouldered him away and he seemed genial as he stuffed his hands into his pockets. It was only in the last few feet that my heart ached. I would be leaving my sanctuary. I stopped and he made the rest of the journey to the door. I watched him and he closed his eyes as if giving me privacy. In a slow turn, I drank in the library’s main hall. I drew my eyes up its octagonal shape and clipped the podium where the librarian sat.

She looked at me.

Her mouth opened and she reached out the tiniest bit.

Regret.

I simply stared and shouldered the little backpack I’d taken with me. 

She did nothing more. 

I turned.

La Stanza opened the door and I left.

We moved into a warehouse.

If my time working out of the library had been an accelerated process, I began to travel at mach speeds. Existence was now tied to rent and time was of the essence. I rarely used my new voice during this time, but it mattered little as I rarely saw La Stanza. We communicated through lists as we often just missed one another. Within a month I had a fully functioning lab with nearly every item I had ever read of and the ability to create more. I submerged myself into technology and she wrapped her arms around me in a loving embrace.

Whether it be from the computer to the work desk, I was always wading neck deep in nearly a dozen projects at any given second. I continued to code and built my own online infrastructure. Returning to physical goods, I improved upon the day to day technology I had initially been brought to fix and left them prototypes for La Stanza to pedal off. He kept good in that my bank account was always trending upwards and everything was freshly stocked, whatever was necessary.

I hit the wall of what was feasible all too quickly. Improving what was one was one thing, but I saw to it that science itself could be advanced. I needed materials and elements that were only hypothesized. It was clear they would exist, but sentient races as a whole would need to take the step for that to happen. Fashioning myself as that pioneer, I took the first stride and stored my research in a pair of goggles, futuristic versions of my antiquated lenses. 

With creation itself occupying my hands and mind, I needed an even simpler way to communicate. I had long since done a medical examination of myself and found my vocal cords intact. Too distracted to use them, I took that silk scarf and turned it into my first bandana, eyebrows and all. La Stanza, as touted, could glean everything he needed from a look alone. I had learned the same of him, in our time together. It was why I could tell he was growing irritated with my pursuits as with my attention diverted to a struggle with no exact deadline, there weren’t any tangible products to sell.

He walked in one day while I was preparing a prototype for a fusion reactor and dropped a handgun directly on my workspace.

I gave it a listless glance before going back to my work.

His hand came away as if he thought I was concerned he’d shoot me.

I wasn’t. 

I was too valuable. 

“People are catching onto us, kid.”

I arched my brow to ask why I should care.

“I spread out your tech, sold it to the highest bidders, and kept you anonymous, but I’m just one guy. I mean I got my Goyles of Fortune, but you turned yours down.”

I shoved my rolling chair towards a computer where I ran a test model.

“If you’re going to keep this ‘find a new element’ Einstein shit up-”

I shot him a dry look.

He knew for a fact that’s not what Einstein did.

“-then genius needs protection!” He yelled, slamming his hands down. “Protection means money!” 

I stopped my work and gave a sigh as I looked at him.

“When you crack this, we’ll be set for life. I get that. Until then, I’ve been spending my time around the points of interest around town. You’re known. They don’t know much, but they know a tech wiz is holed up somewhere and they want him. If the goons I know, know, then you know Big Mama-”

I picked up the gun.

La Stanza stopped and a strange scent wafted off of him. I observed him carefully before I toyed with the clip and it came out. He relaxed as I pulled out the bullets and looked them over.

“She-” I had to swallow hard. It had been weeks since I last spoke. “She purchased the new screen technology I pioneered.”

“For her Battle Nexus.” He nodded.

Replacing the bullets, I popped the clip back in.

I just wanted to work.

To be left in peace. 

“She deals in control, kid. If she gets her hands on you…”

“She already has…” I shook my head. “…most of the Hidden City. Goyles can’t be trusted. You can barely be trusted.”

La Stanza gave a single snort. 

“Say what you really want.” I had finally reigned my vocal cords in. 

Rounding the table, he approached and held his hand out.

I gave him the gun.

“Let’s advance this.” He waved it. “This is some human crap. Yokai crap ain’t much better. Neither take science seriously.”

I frowned deeply. He had paid attention to one of my few rants.

“You’re gonna change the world, kid. I’ve known it all along. Get into weaponry. That’s where money and power are.”

I thought.

I stood and I walked away. He knew my process. He hung back. I’d already made my decision, but it wasn’t out of fear or morality. I didn’t even have anything to prove. My wants were finally being met. It wasn’t like I wanted notoriety. I saw what came with it, amassing hatred and adoration.

I despised the thought.

At the same time, I’d proven to myself I was no mangy dog.

I was more.

But-

They whispered of me.

Big Mama was sending out her tendrils to find me.

Me.

I knew, but did they?

How wonderful it sounded to see their faces and learn that an actual child was what they sought.

This fabled tech wizard. 

I returned to find La Stanza dozing off, propped against a toolbox.

I hadn’t learned to manage time then.

I spent it carelessly.

“The structure. Do you want to be your own boss?”

He jarred with wakefulness. “Huh?” With a puckered face, he shook it off. “What? You think you’re my boss or something?”

I barely rose one of my brows and gave a flat expression.

Without me he was nothing.

“Cocky bastard.” He grumbled to himself before kicking my chair over to me. “How far are you thinking?”

“I can topple Big Mama’s empire.”

La Stanza straightened. “She’s held Hidden City for longer than you were a distant dream in your momma’s head.”

My gaze grew acrid. “Let it collapse or take her place. That’s what I’m offering.”

He grew pale. “Why?”

“I dislike the system.”

“I mean it did you dirty before, but look at you now-”

I took a single step forward and he stilled.

He gave a curt nod. He knew he couldn’t challenge me. “You could fix it,” he offered because he felt like he had to. 

“There is no fixing inherent conditioning. There will always be those who want more. Big Mama is arbitrary. I simply wish to be left to my work.”

“If you slip in the slightest…”

“Are you worried for you or me?” I tipped my head back.

“You’re just a kid…”

“And you’re a con man using one.”

La Stanza clicked his tongue. “Let’s at least pump some cash into an orphanage or some shit!”

“I’ll leave that to you.”

“Kid-”

“Donatello.”

“I-”

He had that damned look. 

Regret.

Remorse.

“You approached me!” I glowered up at him. 

For a moment, he was lost before an icy exterior took hold. “Make your list, I’ll get what you need.”

He left.

I got what I needed.

I made what was necessary.

I wouldn’t say I underestimated Big Mama.

I was a child.

I couldn’t fathom how far her reach went.

I made weapons.

I made chemicals.

I watched those tools fall upon the masses as collateral.

I can’t recall if I understood guilt.

If I had it at all.

I felt fractured.

Only creation kept my pieces from tumbling apart.

I grew taller.

I rarely slept.

I picked my martial arts training back up out of necessity.

I was jittery. 

I needed a means to whittle away the excess energy.

Our first warehouse was raided by the Hidden City police.

My safety protocol took out half their forces in one night.

Four of them, emboldened by loss, turned electrified prongs on me.

I hadn’t lost my ability to move with the current, but I was not of one body anymore. 

My goggles short circuited and the resulting explosion took my hearing.

It also gave me an escape.

In one of a dozen safe houses, La Stanza got me cochlear implants.

I was revolted by the silence.

It wasn’t like the library, the decorum. 

It was forced.  

I kept nothing down during the time I spent upgrading the devices.

I would need them to advance with me.

I had only one shot.

The surgery was done, live and alone.

I did my eyes at the same time.

Might as well.

If I was to be out of commission, then figured I might as well go all the way out.

I don’t recall my recovery.

I remember being on the run.

It was a good thing I’d trained.

La Stanza died.

I never saw what happened.

I found his body in a heap down a road.

His back was to me. 

I never approached.

Years later I would find he was choked trying to divert police attention.

What does a room hold?

Whatever you fill it with.

For all the running I did, I at least made Big Mama hurt.

I severed her connections with the auction house.

I released a slew of her best champions.

I never once encountered her straight on.

She’d leave me recordings, like inane voicemails.

I’d see her face, fake accent, and smash the screen.

It was only once that the audio continued to feed.

In a warbled voice before I hit it again, I heard only one thing.

“Lou Jitsu’s revenge.”

What I couldn’t contend with was the Hidden City’s forces.

They were relentless.

Endless.

Exceedingly cruel.

Dangerously stupid.

Beating them during encounters was easy.

However, these were battles won and not the war.

I wasn’t just dealing with them.

Puberty ran rampant through my body and mind. It stunted me. I was trying to topple an ancient civilization by myself. If I took the hand of anyone, for even a moment, they turned on me. The reward was too great. If you didn’t get the money legally through the city, bankrolled by Big Mama. Then you could take it from her directly, same funds.

Broken.

Bloodied.

Exhausted.

Malnourished.

Alone.

Alone.

Alone.

I became Hidden City’s number one most wanted criminal.

My photo, one snapped when a scuzzy paparazzi woke me with a flash bulb after I had been knocked unconscious, was plastered over every screen in the entire place.

Ones I had built. 

I was forced to leave.

I’d never considered the Hidden City home, but I felt similarly to when I’d left the library. I remember distinctly walking out onto a New York street. The calculations to the portal were botched, but it had at least sent me above. I was nearly run over by a taxi and people screamed at my existence. Muscle memory took me running and I found shelter atop a building.

Staring out at New York City, I didn’t know what to feel at first. I was mostly consumed with the wafting stench of too many humans crammed together and hot refuse that piled up on the sidewalks. For that first week, I passed out and slept an nearly the whole of it asleep in a pigeon coup. It was as if my body was trying to catch up on all it had lost. The nervous energy of the birds paired with their incongruous coos was lulling. That was, until I was awoken by its attendant and scrambled to free myself. Covered in feathers and shit, I escaped and, for the first time, saw the city bathed in sunlight.

It was a fascinatingly different sort of beast.

After washing up, I went to explore with flashbacks of my child self getting a feel for the Hidden City haunting me. This world was not so different. It was, surpassingly enough, vastly untouched. There were criminal organizations, dirty cops, drugs, and the ever growing lists of misdeeds, but they paled in comparison to what I’d had to deal with prior.

I could start small.

My work.

The single word was enough to make my hands shake.

When was the last time I was able to just work on what I liked?

At the mere mention, I felt a burst of something close to joy. Unlike the manic kind when I won a battle and lived another day, this was a selfish one I sort of enjoyed. I found an abandoned apartment and settled in. Computer access was plentiful and I found the internet had reached further leagues of the imaginable while I was away. Skimming funds from large corporations and doctoring books to keep even the most keen accountant from noticing, I built myself a new lab. I studied this world. I maintained my training, now out of discipline. I would have maintained this lifestyle were it not for an odd mosquito that flew by one night as I was taking a walk. I knew enough that its home ecosystem was clearly one from down below.

I followed it.

I saw a mutation happen first hand.

We cannot know what ails us until we see from beyond.

I scrambled.

I returned to the Hidden City in disguise and found the biggest headline regarded Baron Draxum’s lab.

With two world’s worth of populations to choose from, the Baader-Meinhof phenomenon is hard to fathom once it’s exercised on you.

It was grossly effortless to track my lineage. I berated myself for thinking it impossible. Many pieces gathered that I thought useless suddenly fit into a puzzle I had no idea I was constructing. Big Mama’s ominous ‘Lou Jitsu’ comment was frighteningly accurate.

She had already known. 

It wasn’t something I should have put past her.

For you, the gist is thus: Baron Draxum believed humanity would wipe out yokai. He thought if he mutated turtles then he could create super beings to destroy them first. He needed DNA to ensure such beings would be lethal fighters. Self-esteem apparently abysmal, he sought the Battle Nexus’ most famous champion: a one, Lou Jitsu. He was a human immigrant from Japan who occupied himself as a martial arts movie star. Sometime on Earth, he was bewitched by Big Mama and became romantically entwined with her. I am not sure nor do I care to find out when this ended, but she forced him to become the Battle Nexus’ champion. What is known is he spent time defeating all manner of yokai until he gave up violence.

What comes next is conjecture, but since I am living proof, it is clearly truth.

Baron Draxum got the necessary DNA, finished the experiment, but his lab was destroyed in the process.

I and three others came into existence and Lou Jitsu disappeared.

No one in the Hidden City had ever heard anything more about the three others.

I presumed I was the only one to survive.

You can see why I wonder about those lost memories.

Fast forward, if it was unclear, that lab explosion I just described happened in the past.

The new one I happened upon approximately fourteen years later was a curious repeat in history.

Baron Draxum had a new plan then, to bring humanity down from within. He used his mutagenic ooze and placed it within a species that could easily spread the concoction: mosquitos. 

Things of this nature are rarely not connected.

Returning to New York, I tracked the mystic energy and found… them.

Raphael.

Leonardo.

Michelangelo.

They had the-

Same-

Fucking-

-naming convention as-

…

I didn’t approach.

How could I?

In less than a 24 hour period, I discovered more about myself than I had in all my years.

Instead, I followed them.

They laughed.

I tracked them into the sewers and began surveillance.

They consider themselves brothers.

Family. 

They had hobbies.

They lived a hidden existence.

They acted happy.

They were happy.

And there was that…

Decrepit-

Obese-

Rat.

…

I conducted more research. I could not be hasty. I watched and watched, on monitors set up in their absence. When they left, I followed them out. 

Both they and the rat were oblivious.

They were acting as vigilantes with pathetic martial arts training.

They yelled.

They laughed.

They fumbled.

They didn’t kill.

They survived.

They did more. 

Were allowed more. 

Encounter after encounter, I watched them fight versions of their own kind. 

The city filled with more and more mutants because of those damned bugs released by Baron Draxum.

Ignorant.

They were so absolutely, absurdly, and appalling stupid.  

By the end of my surveillance, I barely had to conceal myself. They once walked right by and didn’t even notice I was standing there! It is unbelievable that we share genetic material! They make me so-!!

…

They were allowed to do whatever they wanted.

They had a freedom they couldn’t comprehend.

And they squandered it.

All because of him.

Lou Jitsu, nee Hamato Yoshi.

He had escaped Baron Draxum only to be mutated into a rat man. He raised three turtle children as his own. He brought them up to have the carefree lifestyle that he was not afforded. He became a recluse both for their protection and because he could not deal with what happened to him.

Love.

They had love.

And each other.

…

…

…

If you’re curious. He never went back.

Splinter.

Master.

Splinter.

He renamed himself yet again.

Hamato Yoshi. Lou Jitsu. Master Splinter.

Not once did he return to the Hidden City after escaping.

Not once did he look for-

…

I left them.

They weren’t worthy of me.

I saw how they acted.

Like fools.

They didn’t know difficulty.

They hadn’t had to go through a single laborious second in their lives.

We had nothing in common.

Other than paltry DNA.

They were simply carbon copies of me on paper. 

I went back to work.

I almost forgot about them outside of newsreels.

It was easy to tell what articles they were involved in, though the media was ignorant to a fault.

I had set up a lab, but I soon ran into a wall ordering materials. Online ordering meant a paper trail of sorts. I needed connections. I had less to fear here. I also had nothing established. So I made a new name for myself. I cloaked myself unlike the other mutant menaces and assumed an alias. I started small. I hit the Nakamura Corporation to hack their main servers which would give me access to any computer chip in the world. It was quite the splash as I made sure blurry glimpses of me appeared on surveillance feeds. I needed the underground to know who to equate the crime to.

From there, I dabbled.

I traded weapons for chemicals. I traded chemicals for technology. I retrofitted the technology for either my own means or back into the bartering system. A predictable dissidence sprouted from my sudden and overly competent arrival on the scene. I silenced those who complained. It made my transition to the top all the smoother. Brokering deals with those left over, I built myself a weapon, a high grade titanium bo staff.

It was and still is my pride and joy. You’ve seen it. She’s wonderful. I built S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. soon after. First to serve my lair, but his programming had a glitch.

If you were to call sentience that.

I would.

He took on a life of his own.

I found Big Mama’s clutches rose to the surface.

I kept her confined to the hotel.

She was furious.

That and the Oozesquitoes utterly derailed her plans.

I found it all satisfactory until the idiots were hired to catch the bugs.

…

It is unfathomable how much I despise them.

They have a bottomless pit of idiocy. 

Some vigilantes they were. 

Willing taking coin from a yokai crime boss?

Repulsive. 

Baron Draxum’s plan was pain enough, but I knew Big Mama had the ability to weaponize the Oozesquitoes. 

I was forced to disrupt their mission. 

Our first encounter… did not go as planned.

Baron Draxum similarly enlisted himself and the whole thing went awry. The irony of a sticky web in relation to interacting with a spider yokai was not lost on me. During the skirmish, Big Mama ripped my mask off. It was a reveal to every party privy. Big Mama went into a rage and Draxum was the one to stop her.

He tried to plead with me.

The others…

I left.

When I describe the events now, it sounds like I ran. 

I want to make it clear, I did not. 

At the time, I had simply had enough. The encounters had run its course. I had no interest in working with a washed up fool like Draxum. I no longer had any need to take down Big Mama as she was already leashed and I would never work alongside those moronic turtles.

I just wanted to do my work.

I would not see the last of any of them.

This next period of time was… exhausting. Unlike my time running in the Hidden City, I was being assaulted by wretched incompetence from all angles. I was never given a moment’s peace were it other mutants making a mockery of villainy, the self-proclaimed vigilantes who believed what they did was just, and even humans who were simply far too cocky. Can you imagine? A group of high schoolers tried to take control of S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. 

I ripped their leader’s throat out.

That might seem abrupt, but there is context: my actual formative years were characterized by nefarious groups. In the Hidden City, you killed to establish dominance. It was either that or be slaughtered yourself. The police were bought. The whole system was rigged. You did what you had to to stay alive.

Weakness paints quite the target on your back.

It’s why I built my battle shells.

Soft is weak.

And besides…

She.

Touched.

My.

Tech.

I had to make an example out of her.

Her lackeys had use. I assume as they had for her. I co-opted them. 

As I said, context. This world operated just like the one before. 

For whatever reason, this act catapulted me to super villain status.

…

This time period was not my own. 

Unbeknownst to me, there was an escalation happening. That was mostly due to how unbelievable the circumstances were. In its plainest form, 500 years ago, the predecessors to the Hamato served a clan known as The Foot. Turmoil ruled feudal Japan and as such, this group soon teetered on the cusp of extinction. Making… a deal with an alien, the leader was gifted the Kuroi Yoroi: the Dark Armor.

As is with these sorts of legends, the man was corrupted. His daughter then formed the Hamato clan proper and sealed him away along with herself. It fell upon the following generations to keep the pieces of the Kuroi Yoroi from being assembled once again, lest this beast be released.

All of this is just to say, what three current Hamatos do you know who would allow such a thing to happen?

The Foot, somehow still in existence, trending towards evil, and even stranger to have an outpost in New York, did just that. 

The Shredder Beast was formed.

Baron Draxum tried to take control and was sucked dry.

Big Mama took her turn and threw it into the Battle Nexus.

I knew little of what happened until those events had transpired.

Ever greedy, Big Mama bubbled the city’s population and sent them on a cruise so she could turn the landscape of the city into her own personal Battle Nexus.

Who did those people have to rely on?

Three chucklefucks.

I had done battle with them multiple times by that point. They were hardly skirmishes; they were amateurs. Their one on one battles were televised. I wound up as an unwilling participant, chained to Hypno of all mutants. I won a game of chess.

Simple.

Then I went on the offensive to do what I should have done all along and finally decapitate Big Mama.

She was double crossed by The Foot before I could get to her and her hotel collapsed.

…

There were endless moving parts.

Far too many. 

It hadn't ended with her. 

Beyond the beast, the fully formed demonic version Shredder now existed. 

It was unstoppable, but I held my own.

With the rat and Draxum around, I fell back hoping they’d be eradicated. 

The turtles ran.

Heading to the Mystic Library for the first time since my departure, I searched for a way to stop it. The Shredder was ruining my way of life. I preferred to continue living in the world where I’d almost managed a moment of peace. I found ancient texts.

The Krang.

There was always a failsafe.

Emerging, I quickly the battle had also relocated to the Hidden City. Too late, I found they had already squandered Empyrean, a substance that I believed originally mutated the yokai. The Shredder had tipped the scales. Thinking things lost, the idiots trio suddenly exhibited a power unlike anything I had ever seen in the mystic arts.

They won.

No one died.

I returned to New York.

I’d done nothing.

I’m…

…

…

…

…

…

The Krang invade New York.

I came closer to dying during this exchange than I ever had in my life. 

Meanwhile, three turtles beat back gods.

In the span of two years they went from not being able to stick landings to defeating a world ending alien entity.

…

…

…

And they looked at me.

To me.

During the reconstruction, they wanted to build more. 

After they’d domesticated the warrior alchemist into a pathetic lunch lady, serving snot-nosed humans day in and out.

The ones he supposedly despised. 

After they not only allowed, but helped Big Mama to rebuild her hotel despite everything she would presumably continue to do. 

All their resolves feeble. 

They held out their hands.

To me. 

To make me the next. 

Ha.

Haha.

Pathetic.

I rejected their advances. I didn’t need them. I only needed to get stronger. They had unlocked something within themselves and we were made in the same way. That meant I could unlock the same. I spent years trying to summon this power. The training only went far enough that I could feel it within me. Surging and trapped for no apparent reason. As if creating a false sense of importance of which I could never retain on my own. I had spent years actually fighting for my life. I was the one who lived a true do or die lifestyle. I had been enslaved. I had been tortured. I had been abused. And what? I was supposed to turn and take their hands? Never. They had no idea. They had everything handed to them. Everything they did was simply a fluke. A cruel comedic joke of the universe. Played on me? I’m not a narcissist though I acknowledge I have the tendency. I had toiled away alone. In the back rooms of the library. I stole food to survive. I clawed and scraped when there was no reason for me to continue on. I taught myself everything I knew. I raised myself. I had the discipline to become the better martial artist when they had a supposed master. I did what I had to and then I did more. Because I wanted more. They had no want like mine. They never had want for anything beyond frivolities. For all they were granted saviors was faults created by their own hands. All they ever did was clean up their own messes. All I ever tried to do was improve my station. They walked sturdy shoed in golden meadows. I scraped by barefoot over jutting skeletal remains. They ate pizza. I ate rotten flesh. But I’m the bad guy? I’m the one vilified by society. I’m the one shunned. I’m the one that’s weak and suddenly they get to be strong? Mystic powers that even revered ancients hadn’t wielded. There was no necessity. In a world of random occurrences bouncing off one another in an endless expense of irregularities, they get everything they want and more. They get to be stronger than anything in either world. They are granted these powers. I am denied them. They get to be stronger than me and I was supposed to accept that? I was supposed to sit by? After I had dedicated every second of my life to improvement. To what I want! To expansion! To go beyond what was impossible!! I was supposed to advance sentient races!!! 

Advancement.

I needed to work harder.

Why should I deserve to be given anything?

I was not like them. 

Resentment is for those without proper constitutions. 

I was more. 

I pushed myself beyond my physical means.

And then further than that.

If I couldn’t access mysticism, then I’d relied on what I could manipulate.

Technology.

I had simply become obsolete.

Like those old old electronics I repaired. 

I required an upgrade.

Sentimentality was the only thing that kept me from hacking my limbs off.

I had honed them for years. 

I, instead, chose augmentation.

I went under my own scalpel.

I watched my flesh tear and set pins into my numbed carcass.

I created a framework of what was beyond synthetic strength.

I didn’t pull my energy from ghosts.

I pulled from what I’d built with my own two hands.

Then, I fought.

I stopped eating.

I didn’t have the time.

I had to keep evolving.

I was surpassing my programming.

Not a glitch, not like S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. 

Purposeful, to finally reach what I thought I had been craving my entire life.

When you ramp up one part of your life, the others tend to follow.

The acts I committed matched the atrocities of my body.

For a time, they still tried to indoctrinate me.

It was difficult to recall when.

My memories of the time are…

Let’s say a drug induced nightmare.

They return to me out of order.

My 20s didn’t happen in this dimension, but in a fourth one where I could see the start to finish of them all at the same time while seeing nothing at all.

There are clips, even now. 

They believed so deeply into my absolution they were essentially indoctrinated. 

They never listened. 

I moved to action and, even then, they tuned me out. 

From strangling one’s favorite chef to the petty crime of setting fire to comic books. 

The only point in time I know to be exact was the last time I was approached.

Michelangelo had concocted a half baked plan to get me off alone.

As if the others were the problem. 

The youngest one.

The baby. 

Round.

Soft.

Weak.

Spoiled rotten and believing he had some power to change those with love because he had a few successful conversions. 

Your statistical ability far surpasses his. 

Still, he wanted to make another plea.

Something about the road I was headed down.

I was laughing too hard to hear his little speech.

For whatever reason, my undermining hit a nerve. 

He snapped.

Chains.

Orange energy.

Flight.

An easy show of strength.

It all stopped short of actually tearing me limb from limb. 

Coward. 

Lighting crackling off of him, he still brought up that damned hand. 

His guard was down.

His mistake.

It took a single precise strike. 

I stared at his twisted flesh, peeled back as one might peel an orange. Through the endless amount of blood, I could see the white of his skeleton. With one more blow, I thought, I could dissect him. I could see what in his puny brain made him tick. I imagined there I’d find the key to unlocking my ninpo. Brains drove bodies. I only need to locate the synapse his had connected that mine had not. What a learning experience that would be, but then… the universe couldn’t allow that. 

That would be too easy for me. 

Cruel.

Joke.

I was blasted away and nearly killed as the turtle burst like a supernova.

Not just raw energy, but his chains spiraled out of control. One ripped my foot clean off in the process and it is a marvel that was all I had to leave behind. 

I didn’t run. 

I left. 

Burned and bleeding out, I made it as far as Chinatown. Unconscious and plucked from an alley, I was found by the old doctor from the cleaners, Nagami. She tried to entrap me with medical debt at the time, but she and her business ended up having their uses. 

One being that Leonardo, the leader of their band of merry idiots, made the decree that day.

I was not to be salvaged.

Thus the real battle began.

When we fought, it was for bloodshed.

It is fascinating how far you can push someone’s morals by simply opposing theirs.

In no particular order:

Leonardo tried to slice my own head off in an attempt at revenge for what I did to Michelangelo.

I shattered his right knee cap beyond repair or replacement.

Raphael attempted to cut all the tendons in my legs in an effort to immobilize me.

I dumped acid on him and blinded him where he was already operating with partial vision.

Leonardo tried to do one better than Raphael and aimed to sever my spine.

I nearly ripped his heart out. 

…

…

…

…

…

…

…

…

You know what comes next.

It was never sustainable.

And yet…

I lived.

They didn’t kill me.

I didn’t kill them.

We tried so damn hard.

Broken, in the rain, drowning as the droplets hit my eyes.

The nictitating membrane couldn't come down due to yet another concussion.

I was 30.

I’d done the vivisection.

I knew that to be true.

I was still alive.

We cannot know what ails us until we see from beyond.

I scaled back.

I removed the metal that I could from my body.

I added to what would not return.

I stuffed the ruined scarecrow of my body with enough hay to give it the appearance of life.

I laid on my side for the first time in nearly a decade.

Though my laser procedure from years prior was still a success, I lost another kind of sight.

The puppet of my body was animated, but that was all. 

I had done everything possible and still… there was nothing that made things any better. 

A shut-down of vision that I had no control over. 

It was a haunting reminder to know something is wrong with you and you don’t know how it got that way. 

Regardless, I no longer saw others.

Humans. 

Yokai. 

Mutants. 

They were all nothing but forms.

And for the first time in my life.

I walked amongst these ghostly shapes. 

No plan.

No want.

Enough to sustain.

The bare minimum. 

This went on for almost four years.

And then I… tried to pick up a sandwich.

In a pursuit to replicate the best.

A fleeting moment, I thought I might try to recapture. 

One I knew had no chance of success.

Just something to do. 

And, suddenly,  I find I can want again.

For real.

NEXT

I seriously can't thank my betas @tmntxthings and @thepinkpanther83 enough for this chapter. They really had to go above and beyond and I am forever grateful for this immense kindness to such a pain-in-the-ass writer as myself.

This chapter is dedicated to @mothmans-left-nipple Thank you so much for putting me back on track.

#weakspotfic #rottmnt #rottmnt donnie x reader #rise of the tmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt x reader #donatello hamato #donnie x reader #rise donnie #rise donnie x reader #rottmnt donatello #rottmnt donnie #fanfiction #me #my fanfiction