#Carrion AU

[pengold]

More Carrion AU from @polarspaz !!

I was working on this a while ago but was hating my rendering, but now I render differently and I think it looks a lot better now! Also, I added neck scratches cuz I feel like he picks his skin...totally not projecting 👀

(also there is a hidden Batman, see if you can find him)

[polarspaz]

CarrionAU

This pic is of Kon telling Tim he’s been invited to come over for the weekend at Ma and Pa Kent’s farm. 

-Tim is confused, why do the Kents want to meet him? Slightly flustered, Kon explains that the Kents are curious about Tim. Apparently Kon talks about Tim so much, that the Kents think they’re friends.

-After hearing the explanation, Tim is too stunned to answer Kon at first. Friend? Had he, Timothy Drake, made a friend?! He takes a moment to bask in the glow of that information before he agrees to the invitation. It’s what friends do, right?

-No one one believes Tim when he goes back to the manor and tells them he’s going to a friend's house that weekend, no one except Bruce and Alfred. The two older man are both stunned and elated to see Tim being sociable and are more than happy to let him go. 

-So Kon flies Tim to Kansas and it’s the best/weirdest time of Tim’s life. He has never seen so much COLOR in his life, it’s like he was living in a black and white film in Gotham compared to this, and the Kents are so nice and welcoming it’s almost unsettling.

-Tim ties his best to behave like a proper human being and not the cellar goblin that he is. It’s not hard though as he fascinated by everything going on around him, he’s never experienced this much warmth in his life and is more than happy to simply just sit back and experience it.

-Then on Sunday morning Shit hits the fan. Tim is woken up Kon, telling him frantically that Pa kent is on the ground and something’s wrong with his heart. Tim is up in seconds, now kneeling next to the older man, who is clearly having a heat attack, and gets to work. 

-Tim’s almost thankful for the abrupt medical emergency, because this was something he knew how to handle. It also helped that he carries his emergency medical needles on him all the time.

-After stabilizing Pa Kent, Tim looks up and feels his eyes almost bulge out of his skull because SUPERMAN is standing next to him, looking frightened, and asking “Is my dad okay?” And Tim can only just dumbly nod before they take the older man to the hospital to recover.

-And thats how Tim met the Kents and also ended up saving Superman’s dad’s.

[attie-rattie]

Carrion!Tim

This took two and a half hours d=(^o^)=b

[bi-bi-birdy03]

Tags

[octobeast]

The Hunger

[corvidaearts]

Speaking of what @definitelynotshouting mentioned to the anons here, this is your hunger au arc 2 spoiler of the day!

unglitched versions of the wings under the cut:

[lets-try-some-writing]

I think vultures are Unicron favorite animal because they tend to the dead and in some cultures are viewed as holy ways to dispose of the dead. Unicron is death basically so..

Unicron: What those tenders of the dead are called?

Earth: Humans mostly call them vultures. You like them?

Unicron: They.. Are intriguing is all

Unicron, the patron of all vultures. The only time he really gets upset with the humans is when they hurt Earth, mess with anything Cybertronian, or when they hurt his vultures. Those are HIS birds, his favorites. Everything else Earth has made can go burn for all he cares. But those birds? Nah those are his now.

[traumaboyexo]

The Carrion Sif Au (Pending better name). Expect writing for this in the future from me.

[vulpixisananimal]

Carrion!Sif AU, Chapter 2

ACT 2, The Smell

(You wake up.)

(. . . What.)

(You, you were checking for traps in the hallway and couldn't see, smell, feel anything until the very last second and then-)

"Siffrin!"

(It was Mirabelle. She walked up you you just like last time and just like then just started, taking to you!)

"Good morning! Or, w-" >>> "-but not too long!"

(You stared at Mirabelle as she walked off. The scent of that soap she used even stronger than last time. She, she said the same thing, same exact thing?!? But, but wait you- How- how did-)

(Did you-)

(DID YOU JUST DIE?!?!?!)

(You did!! You must have!! You just walked into that hall and said everything was fine and you died!!! You didn't see anything!! Smell anything!! AND YOU STILL DIED?!?!)

(You're USELESS!!! It's your JOB to find traps and you DIED!!! You didn't even get a glimpse of the King and you just got squished flat!!! STUPID, STUPID STUPID!!!)

(AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!)

(Okay you're over it now.)

(You sit up, dizzy. And now absolutly starving. Your stomach growls. Stars, why are you so hungry again??? Ugh, and now you're gonna have to wait untill tonight, again! You grip the grass beneath you, taking a breath, once, twice, and three times. You're ok, Sifrin. You're ok. You're back here, and now you can do better this time.)

[You got the "Memory of Looping!" You'll always remember this.]

(. . . What was that voice?)

(You stand up, looking around. You could smell the birds, the people, everything around you. Come on, Siffrin. You'll be okay.)

[. . . You should come to the Favor Tree when you have a second, Stardust~]

(You shudder, Stardust?)

>>>

". . ."

(A. . . A star?)

(You had gone straight to the favor tree to see just, what just happened. And, there was a star sitting there, a star person.)

". . . My! Struck speachless at the sight of me, aren't you~?" (The star put a hand to their mouth like they were laughing at you.) "You're so cute, Stardust~"

(Stardust?!?) "U-uhm--"

"Aww, Siffrin. Look at you, all lost and confused~"

(?!?!?!?) "How, how do you know my-"

"Why wouldn't I know, you're Sif! Siffrin! No middle name, no last name~" (The star leaned back against the favor tree.) "Now I know you must be quite overwhelmed, with this being your first loop and all~"

"My. . . ." (You shake your head, this was all a lot to take in, and. . .)

"Oh where are my manners! Take a seat, Stardust, there's plent of room~"

(You look between the star and the root of the tree. Who, who was this?!? You couldn't tell, they smelled of, sugar. Strongly of sugar, and nothing, and a bit of something that smelled a bit familiar.)

(. . . . . . You decide to sit down.)

". . . . . ."

". . . . . . . . . So! You're stuck in a time loop!"

>>>

"Phew, Bonbon! That was DE-LI-CIOUS!!"

(Deja Vu.)

(So, you're in a time loop. Loop was, here, and helping you out. But, that was okay! Great, actually! That means that you could be useful! And that makes it okay, doesn't it? You could get used to this, used to dying. Something about it, it felt familiar, and that felt, comforting? Why should it feel comforting?)

(. . .What were you thinking about again?)

(Anyway! You ate up your food even faster than last time. You felt famished! Even more so than before! But you had to pace yourself at least a little. Right? Don't cause a scene.)

(This'll be fine!)

>>>

(It was right there.)

(It was right BLINDING THERE!!!)

(Right in front of your stupid! Blinding face!! A little hidden switch in the side of a pillar! How!! How could you miss it!!! Stupid, stupid stupid stupid!!!!!)

(You breathe in, and out. Fine, you flip the switch.)

(CRACK!)

(THUD!!!)

(. . . . . There's a pause, a large rock fell a few feet back.)

". . . . Let's go, everyone."

"W-wow! Not even phased! Huh!" (Isa says, falling in step as you lead everyone along. They were scared, worried, you could smell it, it's fine, though, nothing bad can happen now.)

>>>

"Why the need for an armory and weapons in the first place?" (Asks Odile)

(It was a small room, a few spears on a rock, a sword on the wall. The others were talking as you looked around. The smell of sugar only got stronger.)

(You weren't paying too much attention to the conversation, once they were done, you moved on. What else was around the room? There was a big steel thing with a stone on it, and a big brick, thing- O-OH, you take a big step back.)

"You're alright, Sif!" (Isabeau says, reassuringly.) "I don't think anyone will be using this forge aaaaany time soon."

"It's not even hot!! Dummy!!" (Bonnie walks over to the forge and kicks it.) ". . . Ow."

"Be nice, Bonnie." (Odile adds, giving you a look of sympathy.) "You can't exactly controll these things."

"Too true! Let's get going, then!" (Isa finishes, you nod, leaving the room. Fast.)

>>>

"Do you guys, smell that?"

(You had to ask. You had to because it was getting unbearably strong! The SUGAR! The sweetness!! It honestly was driving you a little mad and stepping through the halls only made it worse!! You knew, it was LEADING somewhere!)

"Smell. . . What?"

"I don't smell anything."

"Hmmmm, maybe?"

"Is it the sugar?"

(You turn to Bonnie.) "Sugar?"

"Yeah, sugar!" (They sniff the air.) "It's been around since we got in here. Super sugary."

(Huh.) "Guess I'm not crazy then."

"Hehe, I wouldn't say that!"

(You all laugh, and move on. Right, sugar, that was fine. Just a bit of sweetness. You all walk on, through the hall, to the door at the end. The smell got stronger, why here? Was it a food storage room? Well, you were about to find out anyway. You open the door and walk inside.)

(You gag and stumble to a knee, the smell was WAY. WAY TOO STRONG. Your eye was watering, it was unbearable. You felt Isa kneel down to your side.)

"S-sif! Are you alright?!?" (He asks, worried.)

"S-so strong-" (You choke out.)

"C-careful! There's-" (Mira starts, you look up, there was a weird sadness in the room you didn't even see! You could barely see anything, anyway. It noticed you all, and charged.)

"Gems, Siffrin, get up!" (Odile takes a combatitve stance.)

"R-right-" (You stumble to your feet, gripping your dagger, battle time, just, don't, don't think about the smell, don't, get, distracted--)

-----

(Obligaroey @traumaboyexo <3)

[seafoamdew]

Thank you @twiafom and @alkalinefrog for tagging me for that wip game!

Honestly, I'm surprised to have these many wips, with how Baldur's Gate 3 has consumed my entire being. If I'm not sleeping. eating or working, then I'm playing bg3 and trying to seduce yet another elf with red flags to spare lol. I've got some more dragon care au art because I've been writing the fic and got inspired (not too long now!).

I'm tagging anyone who has listened to Hozier's new album and ascended to a different plane of existence.

[nashiriel]

could we get the scene of the immediate aftermath of the whole cannibal x bb!luke bonding? like luke’s family’s realizations and immediate reactions?

Hi anon! Sorry it took me a while to get to this interesting ask!

TBH, thinking it through, a lot of the reactions would probably mirror the aftermath in the main fic. Though perhaps considerably heavier on the WTF aspect , for obvious reasons!

But below are a couple of rough snapshots of some different perspectives on the matter...

She had carried fear with her from the moment they first laid Jace, pink and squalling, in her arms. Does not a mother always? That which came with his first fever, his first tumble from Vermax’s saddle, the first day he went proudly to the training yard. Other nightmares too, those her maidenhood’s mind would never have conjured; Alicent’s seething triumph at each dark-haired babe presented to her, the whispers crawling through court when Luke’s egg stayed cold and inert in his cradle. And then, to find her family besieged in the Velaryons’ own halls, the flash of Alicent’s dagger raised towards her child, the sting of its bite barely felt amidst the bitter satisfaction of finally having that pious poison loosed before all.

But none of these compare to the moment the messenger staggers gasping into her solar. Rhaenyra hears children, beach, hears the Cannibal, and then all that comes between then and the moment she dives from the sky upon Syrax, is lost to a cold roar of panic.

She had known the Stranger’s face long before her own children’s. She knows what to expect as the beach opens up before Syrax’s wings, wet sands and sweeping ink, even as every scrap of her screams against it-

The bodies of her men still lie smouldering. A dragon, white and slender as mist, crouches atop the rocks, pockmarks of dark sand bubbling to glass where blood drips from his scored hide. Laena’s girl kneels by the pale splay of his wing, cradling an arm blistered raw to the elbow as she stares with eyes scored empty with pain and wonder. 

The Cannibal, looming amidst it all. Black and vast and terrible, and the entirety of him tethered to complete stillness under the outstretched palm of her son. 

“Mother,” Lucerys breathes when he sees her, and she watches the dragon’s eyes sharpen back into sudden fury, sensing her presence only now as her son breaks his gaze. 

“Mother, look! I found a dragon-”

The Cannibal’s hiss, a gust of wind lashing through the caverns of the Dragonmont, splits the air as Rhaenyra hurls herself forward to seize Luke in her arms. His startled yelp is lost amidst the unfurled shadow of Syrax’s wings, and with a surge of triumph, Rhaenyra glimpses Caraxes rippling scarlet against the sky. 

Luke clings to her and the Cannibal’s rage fizzles back into stillness. She presses Luke close to her heart as she stares up at its eyes, knowing that her flesh alone cannot shield him from its flames but willing without hesitation to protect him with it until the last. 

Amidst black scales, eyes gleam back at her, slit green and murderous, before the Cannibal stretches its neck and snatches up the corpse of one of Luke’s guards. Too late, Rhaenyra tries to press Luke’s face to her neck to spare him the sight as the dragon’s jaws languidly cleave the body in two, the ridge white of the spine trailing tattered peach flesh as the lower half lands with a wet thump before Luke’s shocked eyes. 

Those teeth jut taller than Luke himself. Rhaenyra will not think of how the Cannibal could have simply swallowed the corpse - his fellows too - in one efficient bite, if that had been the sole purpose of that display. 

It takes the combined might of Syrax and Caraxes to ward the dragon back from following Luke and Rhaena back to the castle. She is not fool enough to think it gone completely; as dogs bay when a wolf ventures close to the homestead, so Syrax’s fury snarls through the night when she senses it prowling the clouds above. With a cold loathing, she knows Luke must be brought out again come the daylight, for his word alone would send it back to its cavern of corpses. 

And still her sweet boy frets as she tucks him into bed that night, a task she refused his maids despite how her hands still shake. 

“Won’t he be lonely, all by himself in his cave, Mother, if there are no other dragons in his nest? Can’t I see him? Tyraxes still sleeps with the baby.”

The notion of the Cannibal curled in sleep with his belly puffed in the air like Joffrey’s drowsing hatchling is almost enough to bring a laugh to Rhaeynyra’s lips before she recollects herself, smoothing down Luke’s hair with wearied affection.

“He’s far too large to sleep with, sweetling. And he cannot be here, around so many dragons. Do you truly think he would want them disturbing his rest?”

She still remembers finding that nest as a young girl, exploring some dank cave close to the lowest reaches of the Dragonmont. She and Laena had been rushed back to the castle by their guards where Alicent anxiously waited with the rest of her ladies, but they had seen enough already. Even Laena whispered of her shock afterwards. The few eggs not crushed to fine powder lay cracked open, the contents picked clean, each and every hatchling in the entire nest gone with only a single severed tail to betray them.

“I’d like to try the Cannibal against Vhagar,” Laena had vowed to them all that night, dashing and dauntless as any knight in her fine silks and well enthused by the prospect of her challenge. “See if he finds so easy a meal in her.”

Luke frowns then, nestling down amongst his pillows like some fluffed-up sparrow. 

“I don’t think so,” he says eventually, blinking up at her with those large, liquid brown eyes. “I don’t think he does like people very much. Or dragons. Only me.”

The Cannibal had looked into those eyes too. The dragon had been close enough to see its own reflection, wildfire overlain over the dark as a broken spear fell from her child’s soft hand. 

Rhaenyra thinks of another weapon then, Luke’s piping shout - “he was going to kill Jace-”

She thinks of Alicent’s son, his face carved open, and the hunger burning hot in the Cannibal’s eyes, and she wonders.

But most of all, she thinks of her fears for all of them - her boys, dark-haired and perfect the moment they were laid at her breast, the girls who are Laena’s own legacy, all the sons and daughters still to follow now that Daemon has cleaved himself to her entire. The world she was given glimpse of as she tore helplessly towards the beach, as Alicent’s blade sought her son, one unforgiving and hideous in its possibilities. 

The Cannibal can only ever be as nothing, compared to that. 

. . .

The windows in the chamber she has been given on Dragonstone are large and airy, their sill framed by two sphinxes raking each other’s tails. They do not face in the direction of the beach, but that doesn’t matter. Grey Ghost’s presence whispers through her blood like the soft sigh of the tides. She would know him anywhere.

He’ll know her too, she thinks, in the sharper moments between the watered tinctures of milk of the poppy the maester brings her to soothe the throb of her hands. He must be young, barely larger than Vermax, and he has never had a rider. There is no one for Rhaena to measure up to his eyes, no comparison between Baela’s bravery or Mother’s fire. What lies before them now is bright and unmarked as fresh snow. 

Or it will be, when they let her fly. 

“You may ride when your burns heal, and no sooner,” Aunt Rhaenyra tells her archly, dabbing ointment on Rhaena’s burns with her own soft hands. “There has been quite enough foolhardy behaviour of late.”

Rhaena flushes, unused to being scolded as a troublemaker, but Rhaenyra’s smile softens the sting. 

“Laena would laugh herself hoarse at your father and I both, for being so surprised. Your grandmother had forbidden her to try Vhagar, so she slipped away when we were supposed to be at prayer. The dragonkeepers had not fitted Vhagar’s saddle for years, so she climbed her tail and flew to greet Syrax and I barebacked. Wilful girl! It felt like half the city streamed into the streets to watch her in the air. I had never known her to be more joyful…until she wrote to me of her daughters.”

To Rhaena’s astonishment, there is a quavering note to her voice, one that sounds awfully like Rhaena’s when she is trying hard not to cry.

“She was so proud of you,” her aunt whispers. “How could she not be, like as the two of you were? Your father too. Do not think you ever needed a dragon, to make them know it.”

A knot eases in Rhaena’s chest as Aunt Rhaenyra hugs her then. She is not Mother, will never be Mother…but Rhaena finds it harder to be angry for that now, towards a woman who speaks of Laena Velaryon with such love in her eyes.

“You may go to see Grey Ghost later, if Maester Geradys permits it,” Rhaenyra says after pulling away, voice a little gruffer now. “The dragonkeepers say that his neck is healing well. He will fly…and so will you, when you’re ready. They have already taken his measurements for the saddle, though I fear we will needs must order a new one within the year. You both still have much growing to do.”

“What about Luke?” Rhaena asks, eagerly. “Will he have a new saddle too? We can fly together now!”

It will have to be a big saddle, closer to Mother’s than Baela’s, to fit Luke’s new dragon. 

Rhaenyra’s smile looks tighter than before, but she is still gentle as she touches Rhaena’s shoulder, careful not to jostle her bandages.

“One day, mayhaps. Things are…more difficult with his dragon.”

“Oh,” Rhaena says, disappointed. Though she has to admit, she…she isn’t quite sure of Luke’s dragon. She still feels a little queasy when she remembers how the air itself had seemed to erupt into shadow and flame, the disbelieving pain as her outflung hands bubbled up in white blisters in that searing heat…and how none of it had been as awful as hearing those men, hearing Grey Ghost, scream in those jaws. 

She’s glad Luke got a dragon. She knows what it’s like, to watch the skies jealously, alone but for the sting of being left behind. All their whispered plans of what Rhaena could do if their plan worked, the future she hadn’t fully dared to let herself dream of…Luke will fly with her for all of them now, and the thought sends excitement thrumming through her.

She just wishes the gods could have given him a nicer dragon. One as nice as Luke himself. 

Rhaena’s not rude enough to say that though, when Luke shyly puts his head around her door the next day. He smells of ash still, though his skin glows pink from the scrub of a fresh bath, and his lip trembles when he sees the bandages swaddling her hands.

“Do they hurt a lot?”

“A little,” Rhaena admits. “But,” and here her voice almost comes out in a squeal, so happy that she can barely contain it, “we did it! Both of us! It worked, Luke!”

“I never meant for you to get hurt though, Rhaena,” Luke insists, padding over to her bedside with uncertain eyes. “Or Grey Ghost. I’m sorry. I didn’t know the Cannibal would come.”

“You stopped him though,” Rhaena says firmly, and if it wasn’t by the spearhead he’d snatched up from - from - from that black shape crackling on the ground, well, that doesn’t matter. 

Luke had stopped it, had saved she and Grey Ghost both. Just as he had come running with Jace to help her and Baela without question, that night Vhagar was stolen. Just as he had used the knife to protect them all.

“And at least you won’t have to help me carry fish to the beach any more.”

“I didn’t mind it,” Luke says, which is a lie, because Rhaena saw how his face screwed up each time Cook dropped the bucket down in front of them, and she has to duck her head under her hair to hide her giggle. Through the fall of her braids, she sees Luke pad over to her bedside; he’s clutching a curved seashell, which he places carefully in her lap. 

“There’s no crab in it, this time. I checked.”

Rhaena blinks, puzzled, and he shuffles his feet.

“Jace told me that you should always bring a lady flowers to help her feel better,” he explains anxiously. “But I couldn’t find any in the garden like the ones you used to write about from Pentos.”

She thinks of them even as he speaks, the petals curling over in whorls of pink and white like splashes of Myrish lace in Mother’s walled garden. Mother had liked to read her letters among their perfume; Rhaena still remembers curling up next to her, fingers carding through her hair as Mother read out the funnier stories tucked in Uncle Laenor or Aunt Rhaenyra’s writing. 

“But I thought this looked more like them than the roses in the garden. It’s curly too, see? And it’s pink inside-“

He falters, staring between her and the shell. “Do you like it?”

“I do,” Rhaena manages, and she does, though her eyes swim with tears. 

“I just…I w-want-

Mother, Pentos sunlight gilding her smile, the promise of home-

“I want the flowers in our garden,” she finishes, and is immediately ashamed of herself.

Luke’s face firms in sudden resolve. 

“We can fly there then,” he declares. “Now that we have dragons. You, me, Grey Ghost, and the Cannibal. We’ll find your garden, and we’ll bring a flower home for you to plant, so they can grow here too.”

He pauses, face suddenly uncertain. “...If you don’t mind waiting until Mother lets me fly the Cannibal.”

“I won’t,” Rhaena assures him, feeling, in an odd kind of way, as light as the shell as she looks into his face. It has warmed in her hand, and she notices there’s a hole in the outer lip, where the pink fades into coils of white. She will thread her silver chain through it, and wear it close to her skin.

Anyone else, she might not believe they meant it when they made her a promise like that. But Luke had believed in her from the first. Luke had helped her win a dragon. Luke had stopped the Cannibal. 

She’ll trust him until the day she dies. 

“Where is the Cannibal now?”

“In his cave,” Luke says, sitting cross-legged as he looks up at her. “He wants me to come to him, but Mother hasn’t let me today. I’ll have to go to him soon, or he’ll try to crawl through the gates again. Syrax hates that. He hasn’t gone to the beach though, I promise. I don’t think Grey Ghost likes him.” 

“They will be best of friends one day,” Rhaena vows, and her heart soars when Luke beams at her. 

“Just like us.”

Rhaena has a dragon. Father is proud of her. She will see Mother’s garden again with her own eyes. 

In this moment, all things are possible. 

. . .

Viserys expects many things when the letter is laid in front of him, the wax embossed with the ancient seal of the princes of Dragonstone. His heart swells with hopes as he unfolds it, so many in number that almost all anger is forgotten in their midst.

Rhaenyra surely writes an apology. A recognition of the customs and decency she had flouted, the disrespect in her forgetting dear Ser Laenor so quickly; in wedding without the leave of her king, her father. She will offer contrition for all that Alicent has deplored, even though both must recognise such folly cannot be undone as his queen pleads; she will beg her forgiveness as her mother, so that they might meet once as friends. 

She will even - ah, but here is the sorrow of a brother, even more so than the love of a father, stirring him - write of a new chapter, unmarred by the unhappy beginnings that preceded it. A new babe to fill her arms, a son to finally allay all that Daemon has lost.

But Rhaenyra writes of none of these things. Instead, he finds himself reading of her Lucerys, and a shadow that he has never laid eyes upon, but remembers of Dragonstone all too well.

The Cannibal.

He sinks back further into his chair, biting back an ill-natured curse as the movement sends pain throbbing from beneath his linen bandages. All his years weigh upon him then, cold and heavy as the crown upon his brow. 

Rhaenys is with Lucerys already, Rhaenyra written. His relief at his cousin’s presence in this matter, steadfast and sensible to the last, overrides the twinge of irritated hurt that Driftmark should be informed of this before word was first sent to King’s Landing.

Corlys loves Lucerys well, as is only natural, the most precious keepsake left by poor Laenor as he is. But he should not forget himself in this. They may carry the Velaryon name, but Rhaenyra’s sons are of the king’s blood. A dragon’s claiming shall always be the concern of the Iron Throne.

And  a dragon such as this…

Part of Viserys feels the surgery of pride that Rhaenyra must know, his mouth lifting in a smile as he envisions the awe and delight his own council will offer when he tells them such glad tidings. Ah, but Lucerys had proved his blood in truth, to follow his mother and take a dragon at such an age! House Velaryon can stand proud in their heir, for those foul rumours will finally be laid to rest with this. And to think of Aemond, and Daemon’s own Rhaena too! Surely his House’s future has never looked brighter, when all of the king’s blood now lay claim to a dragon’s glory. 

So how then can it be, that there is winter’s chill in Alicent’s eyes still when he call her to him at night? That his daughter soothes her grief with his brother upon Dragonstone, that Daemon should dare overreach himself as Otto has so faithfully warned and claim her hand in scorn of his king’s express command?

And why, as such churlish discord plagues his house, the Cannibal should take his first rider?

A dragon that has ever been a bane rather than blessing to their blood. A dragon that devours its own as the king’s flesh devours him, now coiling around his blood’s heart as their divide cleaves his heart as never before. 

Perhaps he is a fool, flinching from the mummer’s shadow as it plays upon his walls. But is it greater folly, to close his eyes to such portents as the gods lay them so clear before him? 

One day, such will be Rhaenyra’s burdens to carry. But for now, it is he who sits the throne, and he must bear it for her, for them all.

And so it is the king’s hand, rather than a father’s, that dips his nib into ink and laboriously brings the process of instructing Princess Rhaenyra to bring her son to King’s Landing, that his grandsire may look upon his new dragon. 

. . .

The training blade in his hand is wooden, the tool of a child, and that is only the first humiliation to be endured as he circles his target. The bristling head of the strawman seems to spread wide in mockery; Aemond’s blows fall wide of the painted circle on its chest again and again, his head split by a nauseating pain as the leather grip becomes increasingly slippery with sweat. Soon his remaining sight is wavering no matter how he tries to focus it, his breathing laboured as if he treks a mountain rather than performing a drill so basic the youngest, lowest-born page in the Keep could manage it. 

At least his brother’s reluctance to bestir from the beds of his whores has finally overcome his amusement at observing this. The squires in the yard don’t dare turn their heads to watch after Ser Criston’s sharp warnings, let alone laugh, but Aegon had had no such constraints at Aemond’s first attempts, when even attempting to swing left him reeling about like a drunkard. He cannot say he misses him, no matter how Ser Criston sighs as he reports another absence to their mother. 

Yet sometimes, when he staggers back amidst Ser Criston’s earnest encouragement, unsteady on his feet as a tottering infant - and that is what he is reduced to now, all that he has earned on the training ground wiped away by the same stroke that plunged half his world into agonising dark - he can’t help but notice the lack of another.

A voice soft-pitched with admiration and excitement, a small hand hot in his, dark eyes wide with awe as he watches Aemond move fluidly through drills his nephews hadn’t even yet been permitted to attempt. It had been an irritation at times, to have Luke trailing him about the Keep, not least the mirth it gave Aegon to foist their nephew on him as he took Jace off to the Dragonpit. Yet still there comes moments of disorientation, like the itching pull of skin when he tries to blink with both eyes, where he looks about, expecting an admiring shout or plead for instruction-

Then Aemond remembers once again, and rage grinds against the bones of his chest. 

The blade has shattered to splinters by the time the messenger arrives, telling Ser Criston that the queen has need of them both immediately. 

Normally, Mother can scarcely hide her worry at the sight of him returning from his drills; she praises his diligence and bravery, whilst a candle burns at the Warrior’s shrine each morn, Mother’s hands clasped in prayer that the gods give strength to his arm and shield him from any further wound. Today, though her face is tense with concern of an entirely different sort, all her polished composure doing little to mask her fury. 

“A letter arrived from Princess Rhaenyra this morning. Concerning that boy.”

Aemond absorbs the news she relays in silence. Lucerys has a dragon now, one large and fearsome. Lucerys has Father singing his praises in the council chamber, telling all of the wonder he has accomplished. 

Lucerys is leaving his nest on Dragonstone, finally flying back in reach after all these moons.

“They say his dragon is called the Cannibal,” Mother says, and she gives a shudder that may be unease or simply delicate disdain. “And apparently it is as savage and wild as those boys themselves. I begged your father to reconsider this foolishness, but he says he would see it with his own eyes. As if this whole affair is not Rhaenyra contriving to win his favour again-”

“She knows half the realm spits on her new marriage,” Ser Criston agrees, his hands folding neatly before him into fists. “The king’s love may blind him, but too many see her for what she is now, and her bastards too. She is desperate. Do not forget, she knows now she has your son to fear.”

Mother’s lips tighten; she is still fearful, after the last embers of her faith in her husband’s protection were quenched in Driftmark, to hear the truth spoken aloud.  

None will dare force her to parrot Rhaenyra’s lies when Aemond rules the skies upon Vhagar. 

It had been one of the few comforts Aemond could hold into as he lay recovering in his sickbed, the knowledge of that incredible strength and power of Vhagar in flight. The knowledge that the oldest dragon in the world had looked upon him, and seen worth, even when no one else had.

And sweeter still, to know that it was one thing the bastard could not take from him, that little Luke had probably spent every night since pissing himself in fear on Dragonstone, knowing that he remained tethered and helpless on the ground. 

Now Luke has a dragon. And Father expects all to marvel at his glory.

Aemond had longed for a reunion once all the thankless promise of the training yard finally bore fruit. Had pictured it a thousand times over, fantasy mingling with memory of that night. Luke’s choked gasp as Aemond’s palm slides against his soft throat, those dark eyes drawn black with fear as Jace writhes in the dust beneath Aemond’s heel.

To think, though, of the bastard seeing him as he is now, near a cripple with command lost of his blade, even his own balance, and rage churns afresh with his shame.

But still. Luke, finally come forth from the safety of his mother’s skirts. There will be opportunity here, if Aemond has only the wit to seize it, no matter how carefully Rhaenyra watches her precious son. 

“It is monstrous, that they dare show their faces. But you will not be made to endure this for long,” Mother vows, reaching out to stroke his hair. Her touch is featherlight, belying the iron resolve of her words. 

“My darling, I promise you this. That animal will not be allowed to harm you again. Perhaps this will at least give your father cause to remember what he took from you, what they would take from us all if left unchecked. His crimes against you will be answered one day, by men or gods.”

But it was not the gods, the same gods who see fit to bless Luke with yet another gift the bastard does not deserve, who had the will to seek Vhagar at her rest. Who grimly rises, day by day, to claw back mastery of his own body. No gifts are ever thrown into Aemond’s lap as a favoured son; what he wants, he can only take.   

What vengeance he is owed from Luke Strong, he will seize with his own two hands. 

[cyten0]

A Symphony in Crimson

Act 1: A Movement in Black

Chapter 6

… Your back. No. Nonononono

◉ “-frin!”

No no no she needs to get away she needs to leave now

◉ “Good morning Siffrin! Well more like good after… Siffrin?”

You can smell her, she looks delicious, you can’t think, you shouldn’t be here, why are you here, your so hungry, she smells amazing, you can’t think, d̴̛̤on’t hurt her̶̙͆, don’t hư̴͇rt her, d̴̛̤o̸n’t̴̟̾ ̷͍̉h̸̘̚ur̶͔͗t̵̖̉ ̵͈͝ḫ̸͗e̷̹͐r̶̙͆

You brace yourself against the ground, you cover your mouth, You try and breathe, but every breath carries her scent and makes it harder to think. You can feel your body move involuntarily, barely holding itself in shape. Your having to hold back your every impulse to not leap at her and bite down on her- N̷̹͕̠̋̔Ǫ̸̈ Don’t do it don’t hurt her

◉ “SIFFRIN!!!”

AH! She just grabbed you!

◉ “Are you okay? You were shaking really badly, and you look pale, what’s going on?!?”

You need to convince her to leave, NOW, before you-

✦ “H-Had a nightmare! C-Could you… Give me some space? I just… Need a bit to calm down.”

◉ “Are you sure? Do you need anything? I could-”

✦ “P̵͔̽LEASE! J-Just. I. I just need a moment.”

She stops. And reluctantly let’s go.

◉ “… Ok. I’ll wait for you up ahead. Talk to me when your feeling a bit better, ok?”

You wait for her to walk off. Still holding yourself in place. You wait for her scent to fade. Before finally. Taking a breath in. And out. In… and out...

You. Your back here. You won, and yet your back here. Why? What went wrong? The housmaiden said something went wrong, did you mess something up? Or, is there some other threat? STARS you don’t know what to do!!!

You. You need to talk to Loop. Maybe they have ideas. But to do that. You have to get to the favor tree.

This is not going to be easy. But… You’ve had some time to compose yourself.

Get up, Siffrin. You aren’t quite done yet.

◉◉◉◉◉◉◉◉◉◉◉◉◉◉◉◉◉◉◉◉◉◉◉◉◉◉◉◉◉◉◉◉◉◉◉◉

There’s Siffrin! You watch him come up the path, you were starting to get worried! He looked REALLY bad there. In fairness, you all have worried about their health at times, but today it’s much worse!

◉ “Siffrin! There you are, I was worried about you! You doing better?”

✦ “...Yeah! All good. Don’t worry about me.”

Their smiling in this weird way. You know they probably don’t want to talk about it, but…

◉ “Are you SURE? You… REALLY didn’t seem okay. If you want to talk about it-”

✦ “It’s fine! Just had a dream about getting set on fire.”

Oh no is their fear of fire coming back?!?… Oh no, he’s got that look on his face…

✦ “But I'd say I've cooled down.”

◉ “Oh! Siffrin!”

Sigh. Well, you guess if he’s joking around he can’t be too bad off.

But… You know you didn’t imagine it. When you grabbed him, it felt like… Something was moving inside him. And that look in his eyes. And that voice…

✦ “Anyways, I have some things to do. I’ll talk to you later!

◉ “Huh? Um, Siffrin, Please wait!”

They turn towards you, looking a little antsy.

◉ “I-I know your busy but… Just… When you get the chance, come talk to me, okay? So we can talk.”

✦ “Oh, uh… Ok? Sure!”

◉ “Ok, go do your thing!”

You watch him head off toward the favor tree…

Normally, you would just wait for him to talk to you. You’re not one to pry! He has secrets! It’s not right to pry!… But… Whatever that was. It’s way more then a nightmare. Siffrin’s always been a bit odd, varying between fatigued and weirdly competent at random. They might be pushing things before the king... You decide to quietly follow him. J-Just to make sure he’s still okay!

As you head over, you bump into Isabeau right away!

▲ “Oh, hey Mira! What’s up?”

◉ “O-Oh nothing! Just… Is Siffrin alright? He looked really ill earlier, a-and I thought I saw something weird, and he didn’t want to talk about it, but I was worried!”

▲ “Hm. Dunno. I kinda gave him some space since he wanted to make a wish at the favor tree. But now that you mention it, they did seem a little off.”

This doesn’t bode well. If it was just you, you’d try and calm down, but Isabeau too? You know it’s rude to spy on them, but you can’t back down now!

▲ “… Do you think we should keep an eye on him?”

◉ “I-I uh. Well, I know we shouldn’t pry, but…”

▲ “I understand. Just a quick look! We’ll go through the trees, make sure he’s alright, and he won’t even notice!”

◉ “O-Okay!”

You both quietly sneak through the adjacent woods, and find a spot to look. But… Right away, you notice something off. There’s a weird person there! Their kinda glowing?!? Their staring at Siffrin, waiting, and he’s just staring at the ground.

◉ “(We better get closer! I think their going to talk!)”

Isabeau nods, and you both start shuffling closer.

✸ “… Well, let’s start with the good part! Congratulations, Stardust! You beat the king! Well done! Good for you!”

WHAT?!?!?

✦ “… But I’m still back here.”

✸ “Right, That’s the bad news. THAT sure is a problem, isn’t it?”

✦ “… Did you know?”

✸ “…Not really. I felt there was a possibility, but it came as a surprise to me too, honestly!”

✦ “What do I do?!? We beat the King! That should have been it! What went wrong?!? I don't-”

✸ “Calm down. Take a deep breath.”

The two take slow breaths, in and out. And meanwhile, you and Isabeau are utterly confused?!? What do they mean they beat the king? You all haven't even gone to the house! Is that why their ill? That must have taken a bunch of effort!

Wait. Did that strange figure just look at you? It was only for a half second but-

✸ “Alright. Let’s recap, just to see if we missed something! First. Your stuck in a timeloop. Every time you die, and now apparently after talking to the Head Housemaiden, you come back to today! Second, and this was why I started suspecting this outcome, we have no idea WHY it’s happening.”

✦ “… Right. It just started happening. Heck I even figured it was a monster thing at first, didn’t I?”

A timeloop?!? You read some stories about stuff like that but. That’s crazy!… But you guess the king can mess with time, so it’s not TOO far out there, you guess. How does that even happen? ...But what was that about a monster thing?

✸ “Right, which leads us to number three, the most pressing issue. Your hunger. We’ve been keeping it at bay with sadnesses so far, but their lack of actual substance has officially caught up! Full on crash now! Which leaves two options.”

Siffrin looks up, confused. You are even more confused?!? Has Siffrin been eating Sadnesses? WHY? Isabeau looks just as confused as you are. But… You wonder. Those strange things you saw there. Was that… Real? That movement you felt inside them... Maybe Siffrin’s situation is from some kind of parasite?

✸ “The first is to find a way to sneak meals while your in the house. If I have some time in a given loop, I could reach farther, and maybe grab some unfrozen wildlife outside of Vaugarde. Otherwise you might have to… Improvise.”

Siffrin glares and the figure.

✦ “Improvise. How.”

✸ “I know you wouldn’t normally, but given you can turn back time, You could potentially grab one of the locals…”

✦ “No. I’m not going to eat a person. Never again.”

W-What? That. No way… People? That. That can’t just be a parasite. That’s… And. He said... again?… Does that mean he’s… Oh change, your shaking! What… What exactly has Siffrin been dealing with?!?

✸ “Fair enough! Worth double checking! I know that’s a line you won’t cross! Which really just leaves one option… Are you SURE you don’t want to talk to your party? If you can’t find an opening normally, your best bet is to just see if they’ll give you one.”

✦ “NO. I can’t let them know. I’ll think of something. Just. We can keep going off sadnesses for now. It’ll be tough, but I’ll manage. At least long enough to get out. I mean. It’s just one more hurdle.”

✸ “So persistent, Stardust! Well then, I suppose Mirabelle will be disappointed. She DID say she wanted to talk to you. Might want to talk anyways, just to ease her mind! And to remind her of the CARROT method, since you forgot!”

The CARROT method?… OH!! Right, you were working on a shield spell, wait so… Oh that makes so much sense, why didn’t you think about that?? GAH! Nevermind that.

Regardless, you feel like you and Isabeau have heard way more then you should have already. You turn to him and whisper.

◉ “(I think we’ve heard more then we should, we should go)”

▲ “(R-Right. We’ll ask about this lat-)”

✸ No. Do NOT confront him. He might get desperate.

WHAT!?! Was that. Did that mysterious person just talk INTO your head?!?

✸ Stardust needs time to figure out what to do.

▲ “(He needs to talk about this!!! We can help!)”

✸ ...Maybe you need a demonstration as to how bad the situation is.

✦ “Right. So… That just leaves finding more about what’s happening to me.”

✸ “Right! Now, so you can have a SLIGHTLY clear head before we talk about that, may I suggest getting a meal first?”

✦ “sigh I guess we should. Maybe we should try for something a bit bigger this time, since I’ve gotten better at fighting. Maybe that really tough sadness from the first floor?”

✸ “Fair enough! Still not very filling, but it should keep you at least sane for the next loop or so!”

You watch as the figure flicks his wrist, and a weird gateway appears in a strange shade you’ve never seen! Out of it falls a huge, orb headed sadness that towers over you all! Oh change, this close to town?!? You have to-

You don’t even get a second before Siffrin’s entire body twists and lunges. With a visceral sound of ripping flesh and cracking bone, his body unravels into a writhing mess of black tendrils and fangs, framed by Siffrins white cloak and face. The towering sadness doesn’t even have time to make a noise before it’s throat is pierced and it’s body is bound. You nearly scream, but Isabeau covers your mouth before you can. It tries to squirm to escape, but Siffrin just starts ripping it apart piece by piece, until a massive gaping maw opens up from where his body should be, and you watch the last bit of sadness is dropped past Siffrins cold, emotionless face, into his cavernous maw. And as it falls in, you see Siffrin… Smile. Like it was nothing.

You just stare in shock. That… You… You know it was just a sadness but…

Siffrin takes a moment in that form, before slowly, methodically, squeezing it back together, tightly packing tendrils into arms, legs, hands and feet, and skin begins to form above it’s surface, before fabric weaves itself from hair above. And for just a second, you see his face, with lightless eyes, interrupted by a strange crossed slits of that unusual shade before a light substance slowly forms over their surface, turning his eyes back to normal.

Isabeau starts dragging you away. You can scarcely believe what you saw. And as you try to think, the figures voice fills your mind.

✸ That is what we are dealing with. So again. Don’t confront him. Because THAT is what he’s been hiding.

… You don’t even realize when you’ve gotten out of the woods, until you are back in daylight.

You don’t know what to say. What do you even do? Where do you even start?

▲ “… So Siffrin’s been protecting us from that, this whole time?”

That shocks you right out of it instantly!

◉ “Huh?”

▲ “Whatever… That was. They talked about it as if it had been the case for a while. Might have been since we first met. But Siffrin clearly doesn’t want to hurt anyone. And he hasn’t. Saved our lives on more then one occasion. And, you heard what they said. Even when they have the chance, their sticking to not hurting anyone.”

...Isabeau’s right. Siffrin won’t hurt you all. But the fact he’s doing this alone…

◉ “I-I still want to talk to him. They shouldn’t have to deal with… With ANY of that alone!”

▲ “Agreed. I don’t care what that figure says, we have to talk to them about it. I’ll head up to the view of the castle, I’ll let you have the first go at talking to them, since you asked beforehand.”

◉ “… Fair point. I-I’ll try.”

▲ “You got this Mira!”

You aren’t going to press him on it, but you will try and get him to talk about it. You just hope it’ll be enough.

✸✸✸✸✸✸✸✸✸✸✸✸✸✸✸✸✸✸✸✸✸✸✸✸✸✸✸✸✸✸✸✸✸✸✸

✸ -Because THAT is what he’s been hiding.

… You watch as they hurry off. You hope that should be enough to prevent an incident, or at least buy you time until you’ve finished talking things out with Stardust. They need a clear head for this. As do you honestly, and seeing them just reminds you of… Anyways! Back to it! You have a job to do, after all!

✸ “I take it that was a little more filling?”

✦ “Yeah, a little. It’ll keep me going at least. Still hard to think, but it’s something.”

✸ “Good! Now then, let’s see… Where to go from here…”

>>>

✦ “Alright, I better get started! Library, Head Housemaiden, and the King.”

✸ “Don’t forget to talk to Mirabelle, Stardust!”

✦ “Right. I’m not looking forwards to that.”

Your sure it’ll be fine, right? But…. You feel a presence at the back of your mind urge you to tell them. …Right. You’d better at least hint at it. You guess if she does confront them, and they found out you hid it, it wouldn’t bode well.

✸ “You REALLY need to though. I have a SLIGHT suspicion that she saw something earlier, likely when you woke up.”

✦ “Oh!… Right. I was just thinking she was worried, but if she actually saw something… I’ll. I’ll get on that.”

You smile and wave at stardust as they walk away!

… Hm. That thought. That was your patron, wasn’t it? You get the sense that you just avoided a dire situation, but nothing more notable. But given their otherworldly nature, and role as the possibilities of the journey, you’d best trust that instinct. That said, you feel Mira wouldn’t press them on this, so then… Why did you need to do that?

▲▲▲▲▲▲▲▲▲▲▲▲▲▲▲▲▲▲▲▲▲▲▲▲▲▲▲▲▲▲▲▲▲▲▲▲

Crab. You watched Mira and Siffrin’s chat, and the whole topic got fully avoided in favor of those papers. You guess your gonna have to talk to him. Oh you REALLY didn’t want to have to do that. But SOMEONE has to.

Come on, Isabeau, be brave! You can be brave for Sif!

Siffrin’s been talking to the others for a bit, so your using that time to calm yourself down, just a little.

Okay. Whew. Ok. Here they come. Just, start off with a normal chat.

▲ “Heya Sif! How’s it going? You looked like you were in a rush earlier? Everything alright?”

✦ “Yep! Everything's fine!”

▲ “You sure? Mirabelle mentioned you uh. Weren’t doing so well a bit ago.”

Sif looks off to the side, trying not to meet your gaze

✦ “Yeah, it was just a nightmare! Nothing to worry about.”

▲ “… Ok, do you want to talk about it?”

Siffrin is starting to look a little confused at you.

✦ “I’m fine Isa. Don’t worry!”

Crab, he’s just gonna keep dodging it unless you bring it up, aren’t you? Ok. deep breath, and Go.

▲ “Look, I-I know there’s more going on. Mira said she saw something weird, so, to put her at ease, I took a look at what you were doing at the favor tree and uh. Might have. Heard some stuff. And. Seen some stuff. That I probably shouldn’t have.”

Sif freezes! Uh oh, nope, don’t make them panic!

▲ “I-It’s ok! I, I just. Figured you might want some help or. At least to talk to someone about it? I-If your ok with that!”

Crab, Isa, your sweating bullets, your so nervous about this, you don’t know how to go about this!!

✦ “H-How much did you see?”

OH. Uh. You. Better be honest about this.

▲ “I UH. Left after you were done with the. Um. Done with dealing with that sadness.”

CRAB CRAB CRAB Sif is looking like their panicking, that’s not good, oh why couldn’t it have been someone else doing this talk!

✦ “Nonononononono”

▲ “L-Look I’m not gonna judge or anything, I’ll admit I have a lot of questions but-”

✦ “NȌ̷̻!!!”

The air starts to feel heavy, you feel it pressing around you. It’s hard to move! You… You smell burnt sugar?

✦ “I can’t! Not you!!!”

▲ “S-Sif? Calm down, it’s o-”

You watch as Sif plunges a clawed hand into his chest, and you hear something shatter.

《《《《《《《

✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦

… STARS!!! He saw! He BLINDING SAW!!!! He was trying to hide it but you could smell it on him, you could hear it in his voice and his heartbeat! He was SCARED! Of YOU!!! And why shouldn’t he?!? Of COURSE he saw the monster and got scared! Why did it have to be HIM? You didn’t want to see any of them scared of you, but it hurts WORSE when it’s HIM! He’s always smiling at you, having fun with you, seeing him scared was horrible!!!

… You. Just realized what you did. You… Killed yourself. Not like normal, with the tears. You weren’t even thinking. You just felt your mind slipping, and felt your claws out and… Knew you had to do something. He… When he was scared, it reminded you of when you were hunting. And he always smells so delicious... You don’t know if you would have done anything, but... You’re glad you stopped yourself. Just in case.

But. You guess that could work in future. You’d rather not, but. You guess if it’s an emergency, you can do that. If you. If your slipping. It’s a way to stop yourself.

Ok. Let’s… Try that again. And not worry Mira this time! Don’t want Isa to see that again. You still need to find out what to do for him!

Back to it Siffrin.

[polarspaz]

 Tim AU pile 2!

Upper right is from the Carrion AU. Kon, in super heroic fashion, saves the world from destruction but winds up dead due to his grievous injuries. Cassie is the one to be with him in his last moments, sobbing in despair as she watches the life fade from her friends eyes. Then Tim arrives.

He just yanks her aside and hovers over Kon for a moment. He look's like the specter of death itself as he pulls out a very special needle and slams it into the dead man’s neck. Cassie ties to pull Tim away, but stops when she see Kon’s chest begin to rhythmically rise and fall. Then, miraculously, Kon’s eyes snap open.

Kon looks around bewildered, pretty sure he was just dead, when he feels two trembling hands grip the side of his face. He sees Tim looming over him, posture rigid and voice eerily flat as he says “You didn’t have my consent to die Kon”

----

Then the bottom Left is Ra’s Al Ghul having a very bad time with JJ.

Ra’s kidnaps Tim, who just sighs and goes along with, just to see what the hell this maniac has planned now. After a very elegant and courteous debate, Tim declines Ra’s offer to rid him of JJ in exchange for becoming his creepy little protégé. Ra’s of course, ignores Tim and locks him up until he can change his mind.

Soon, Tim is getting tortured by Ra’s ninja’s and he’s just like fuck this, I am not going through this shit again and let’s JJ loose. ((BTW: I decided that Tim’s Shrike costume is now grey/white because Bruce uses it as an indicator to tell how well mentally Tim is doing on his patrols. If he comes back with barely any blood on his suit it’s a GOOD DAY. If comes back and theres a lot of blood on it? That’s a BAD DAY.))  

---

The tiny one on the bottom right if from the blood bird AU. After getting too high on caffeine one night, Tim ends up watching several animal documentaries until he can get to sleep, but one documentary about the short-horned lizard catches his interest.

Couple hours later, Dick is knocking on his apartment door with fresh doughnuts in hand. The door clicks open and Dick’ answering hello turns into a girlish shriek. Tim is standing there in the doorway, pale as a ghost, eyes completely red, with blood dripping down his cheeks. The big, excited smile on his face doesn’t help the situation either. “Holy shit Dick you gotta see this!’

After, Tim is very disappointed when Dick tells him that being able to squirt blood out your eyes is just plan terrifying and not really cool.

[return-to-ravenbrooks]

October 31st, 2009

Ravenbrooks weather station

They stripped you down and beat you black and blue

All in the name of a false god

All because you were born

[darkworkcourier]

Hi yes I've been enchanted and ensnared by @cyber-nya's Monster 141 AU, so I rolled around in that sandbox like a heathen.

---

Dr. Adler's easy to figure out. Price picks up on it the second he walks into the infirmary on his weekly blood pack acquisition mission. Rather than the usual overly-sterile, Clorox smell, he's hit with a scent wave that screams herb garden. It makes him blink hard, reeling back, covering his nose with his wrist.

Once he recovers a little, he sees stacks of cardboard boxes, all marked up in German—Zauberbücher, Kristalle, Tränke (Zerbrechlich!), among many, many others. Adler stands in the middle of her cardboard castle, holding up two little vials up to the light. She frowns, taps on one, and tilts her head when it... changes color, turning a deep mauve.

Price wavers on whether to leave her to whatever it is she's doing, or interrupt her. He decides on the latter, mostly because he's starving, and they still have another week and a half before he can get anything fresh.

"Doc?" he tries.

"I heard you come in, Captain Price," she says, not bothering to turn her head. The vial in her left hand changes color again to a fetching chartreuse. "One moment. These are very volatile."

"Like exploding kind of volatile, or...?"

"Volatile as in prone to either reverse the order of your internal organs, or potentially cure a hangover." She pauses, squints. "I can't remember which one does what."

That seems incredibly important. Price presses himself against the wall by the door, all too happy to make a break for it if it means his small intestine won't come out his nose. Not that he uses his small intestine for much these days, but he'd rather not experience that.

In the end, she seems to decide which potion does what, setting the chartreuse vial down on her desk, and tucking the other vial (deceptively clear) in a cast iron chest that looks like it was probably made in the medieval period. She locks it twice.

Once that's done, she sighs and turns to face him. "Sorry about that, Captain. What can I do for you?"

"Just swung by to pick up, uh, supplements."

Dr. Adler raises one dark brow. "The blood packs, you mean."

He didn't remember telling her about his status, but seeing her turn their formerly boring infirmary into a witchy apothecary makes him think that it wouldn't matter if he told her or not. "Yeah," he says, rather lamely.

She nods, dusting her hands off on her lab coat, before walking over to the mini-fridge. "Do you have a preference?" she asks.

"No," he replies. "Learned not to be picky."

At that, she suddenly stands up, abandoning the fridge empty-handed. Price watches her with suspicion as she approaches her fortress of boxes with the expression of a woman on a mission. Her hands hover in front of her, going over the boxes like a human metal detector, before finally landing on one of the boxes marked Tränke. She carefully moves it to her desk, rifling through its contents (which sound alarmingly fragile) before lifting a squat, rotund little glass full of wine-dark liquid. As soon as she pops the cork, the smell hits Price like a bus.

Fae blood. Fucking hell, he'd know that stuff anywhere.

Adler winds through her labyrinth of boxes toward him, and it takes a hell of a lot of self control not to rip the bottle out of her hand. Instead, she politely hands it to him before returning her hands to her coat pockets.

"Try that," she says. "It's not completely fresh, and I won't be able to refill all my stock for at least a few weeks, but it should help."

She doesn't need to tell him twice. Price drinks the bottle's contents in one go, only vaguely thinking that maybe he should have asked how much he could drink. Dr. Adler's expression doesn't change, even when the bottle's completely dry, so he assumes it's fine. And it's good. Fae blood is sweet on his tongue, a shimmery white wine to a human's dark claret. It fills him up, gets his head clear, saturates all the colors in the room, and makes his peripheral vision glow. In short, it's fucking awesome.

"Oh," he says. "That's..."

"Stop by when you need more," she cuts in with a shrug. "I have a few other varieties. Some are harder to come by than others, so I'll have to be a bit frugal with those. Give it a couple weeks and I should have better stock."

"Thanks, Doc," Price replies, a little in awe. He hands her the bottle, knowing if he keeps it any longer, he's going to break it open and lick up the remainder.

"Gern geschehen," Dr. Adler replies. She replaces the cork, then turns on heel and goes back to her boxes.

Price decides it's better to leave her be for now. But as he leaves, he gets why she came so highly recommended.

---

As easy as it is to figure out that Dr. Adler is their resident witch-on-call, it's stupid hard to identify what ever Carrion is.

When she leaves a room, the arguments get heated. Gaz swears up and down she's another kind of witch. Maybe a... flight one, if that's a thing. She's good at piloting, having, quoth he, "A weird relationship with gravity." That has to be a witch trait.

No, argues Soap. He smelled something on her, but it wasn't the same as the strange herb-earth-magic scent that follows in Dr. Adler's footsteps. No doubt she's not human, but it irks him with the same sensation of having a word on the tip of his tongue. He knows this. Shapeshifter, maybe? Some kind of weird changeling? But neither of those seem right.

"You sniffed her?" Gaz asks, incredulous.

"Not on purpose!" Soap retorts. "I just so happened to smell her when she walked by!"

"Creep," Gaz sagely confirms.

Soap responds by tackling Gaz with a decidedly dog-like growl.

For the next four weeks, the 141 puzzles over their pilot. She seems blissfully unaware of the way they stare at her, happily in her own little world. She sings to herself, preens when they compliment her after a flight, hops away in little dance steps after every mission.

Then a mission goes wrong.

They're across enemy lines, helo half-drowned in a river, a storm battering the landscape, desperation making monsters of all of them. Soap was the first to lapse, literally tearing through hostiles with otherworldly howls and snarls. Price rips open throats, pupils blown, jaw dripping with blood. Gaz pierces soft body after body with an impossibly-sharp sword, maw burning with embers as his secondary form threatens to come loose.

And Ghost— It's hard to argue with death incarnate, especially if you're on the debating team.

Everyone's so caught up in the fight, in the desperate high-stakes bloodbath, that they don't have time to check on their pilot. She got out of the crash, confirmed she was safe, and that was all.

But then Soap's pinned by gunfire, forced to crawl under rubble just to escape the onslaught. He pauses, paws burning into the mud underneath him, thinking on the best strategy to get through a wall of human hostility. During that dull roar of a lull, something catches his eye.

The first thing he thinks is that is a fucking huge bird.

The second thing isn't so much a thought as it is shock at the sight of a talon the size of a pickax piercing a man's skull like a melon. Wings furiously beat, the sound like a snarl of thunder, and a high-pitched shriek makes Soap's sensitive ears ache.

Only then does he register that it's Carrion. Their Carrie, their happy-go-lucky beam of sunlight pilot who sings made-up songs and dances like a moron when she thinks no one's watching—that Carrie is leaving gouges in their enemy like they're nothing. Her arms are massive wings, black and white tapering to red (just like the bearded vulture on her helmet, and now Soap just feels stupid), legs now scaled and ending in those deadly talons. Her head's the same, except her hair's loose from its braid and falling around her shoulders in a windblown mess, and her mouth opens to reveal two rows of razor-sharp teeth.

She's a fucking harpy.

Soap watches in awe for a moment more before realizing she's still by herself. As badass as it is, he clips around the corner of the rubble pile to attack the group from the opposite end, meeting her in the middle. Once their enemy is just a smear in the mud, he finally looks up at her, huffing once in gratitude.

"No problem," she says, smiling with her wicked teeth. Her voice is higher, crackling like lightning. It's awesome.

Their mission wraps up quick after that, a massacre split five ways, fur and feathers truly flying.

Once they're back at base, beaten and battered but otherwise whole, Carrion slinks away to the showers. The rest of the 141 leaves her be, allows her a private moment to get herself back in order.

And Gaz sums it all up with a firm, "That was badass."

Everyone hums, growls, or hisses in agreement.

[octobeast]

This was originally a silly doodle but then it started looking kinda cool