#and i dropped the game right before the temple of the ancients

[tally-ace]

We got modded ff7 lads, nothing can stop me now

[undreaming-fanfiction]

Stranger Brigade AU

Do you know the game Strange Brigade? I'm just thinking the Fruity four AU for this...a Stranger Brigade if you will (yes, lame, sorry).

These four are a group of mercenaries/archaeologists/academics/adventurers that tackle supernatural threats, explore ancient temples and kick asses of demons, gods, deities, whatever is needed. They are always dropped right into the action, parachutes, weapons, grenades...you name it. 

Nancy is the marksman of the group. When people look at them, they take her for the resident academic, and it's not like she can't do it, she just prefers her guns better. Run out of ammo? Nancy always has an extra magazine on her. She's exactly that kind of person that tosses you a loaded gun in your direst moments (but with safety on, she's responsible!) and has a supernatural knack for identifying weak points of their enemies. Are you facing an undead skeleton in an ancient armor? Count on Nancy to shoot the helmet off with insane precision and then switch to a larger caliber, blowing the whole head off. The other brigadiers try to persuade her to snipe from the distance as she is the shortest and weakest of them. Nancy just stares them down, grabs her shotgun and blows a hole in the nearest mummy. They don't complain ever again and definitely don't comment on Robin radiating please marry me energy in these moments.

Eddie is the academic, or as he likes to refer to himself, the lore master. Eddie never finished high school because he didn't see the point in it, but he's the furthest from stupid possible. He just doesn't do well in conventional settings and if his parents were good for something, he would have been shipped off to a school for gifted kids. As he is now, he was recruited in his third year doing sophomore studies and he doesn't complain at all because this is much cooler. He's always carrying around heavy books with mythological references, doing research on their enemies. Not that Eddie gets it right on the first try and they never expect him to, but he has a very active imagination and is able to suggest several ways how to work around ancient rituals. "Does this say tears of a virgin? Well, there we go", he pokes himself in the eye, catches a few tears and smears them on the altar. The door opens and while the rest of the group stares at him, he shrugs. "Pretty sure they meant conventional sex, not the freaky shit we do with Steve-!" Eddie also dabbles in the occult and specializes in protective spells, creating various talisman combinations for each party member before their missions. 

Robin is their translator into ancient languages, working in tandem with Eddie. She's best classified as an adventurer, she didn't really get into this business because she didn't have any better prospects, but because she was just bored in life. She sometimes corrects Eddie's translations and is usually the first person to try the most insane ideas Eddie has. She is their explosives lady, always packing bombs and grenades - which also means she is the one checking the building stability because there's no way she's letting that ruin fall on her beloved Nancy, her equally beloved Steve and her partner in occult crime Eddie. Robin's preoccupation with how many bombs she can detonate before the nearest pillar crushes them to death is mostly caused by her being a very strange, uncoordinated and overall unwilling runner. As she says, "why run for five minutes when I can spend five days researching?" 

Steve is the muscle and the caretaker of the group. He's always the first one to go into danger and arguably the one with best reflexes. He can use guns, he always carries one or two, but there's always a point in their combat when he just drops the weapon ("seriously, Steve, these don't grow on trees!" shouts Nancy), grabs the weapon of the nearest skeleton, tears it out of its grip (sometimes tearing the arm off in the process) and proceeds to crush the skulls of their enemies. After the fight is done, he brings out the first aid kit and patches everyone up while bleeding on the floor himself. What usually happens is that his three companions look at each other, nod and the girls restrain Steve while Eddie wraps his wounds in bandages. Eddie had to learn several healing spells just to ensure Steve's disregard for his own health doesn't kill him because Eddie's skill in necromancy isn't that high (yet) and after much arguing and grumbling, Steve allowed Eddie to tattoo a healing symbol on him, just to ensure his injuries heal faster. 

(also Jonathan and Argyle work in the organization and prepare the intel for their missions, always on their comms and providing supply drops)

[luimagines]

ah here are more unmanageable ADHD thoughts (my pharmacy is out of stock on my meds and I'm going to make it everyone's problem muahhahahaha)

I can't decide between two routes, soooooo here's both!!

I've been playing skyward sword and twilight princess most recently, so I'm most familiar with their locations, bosses, side characters, etc.

Basic premise: the chain + reader (can be demigod! reader, another hero of courage, random person picked up off the street, a person who's played the games, whomever really) are dropped into another era. This is something they've gotten used to, although it is disorienting. Except, the shadow was especially cruel this time. One by one, their blood became ice when they realized what had happened: everyone was separated. Luckily, they were in groups of two or three and none of them sustained injuries that required immediate attention. But, of course, you were alone. You had only a handful of items; the others were being held or repaired by one of the Links. Because of course they were. Why would you have anything useful?

Twilight's Era:

Sky and Wild were isolated in the gerudo desert. They had to get creative with the paraglider and the gust bellows to get out. A couple merchants gave them directions to castle Town, specifically a bar, where they'd be safe and cared for

Time, Warriors, and Four landed in the lakebed temple and were also forced to get creative in order to leave. The zora took them in from there

my babies Hyrule and Wind were dropped into the fields and left to fight off an absolutely massive mob of monsters to make their way to kakariko village where they were taken in by the few occupants left

Twilight and Legend were by far the luckiest of the bunch. They ended up in the sacred Grove. It was tricky to leave, but with Ordon village less than a days trek away, they considered themselves blessed. Once they realized Epona had found her way home, they felt as though things were too good to be true.

And they were right.

Because you, my dear reader, were stuck in the middle of a blizzard with a pack of snow white wolves waiting to pounce. While stumbling through the snow, your fingers, nose, and lips becoming numb, a giant white beast threw its head back and roared.

This is it. You thought. The abominable snowman is going to eat me for breakfast.

Instead, the roars scared off the wolves. It turned to you with wide eyes.

"Tiny human, come uh. Too cold and wind for you. Climb on back uh."

You blinked, unable to respond.

This clearly bothered your potential savior as he grabbed you and threw you over his shoulder like a rag doll.

I'm dead. I have to be.

or reader gets stuck in the twilight realm 👀,,,,, might send a second ask expanding on that if anyone wants

Sky's era:

Time and Wind end up in the Lanayru Mining Facility and get to learn about time shift stones. I think Mask having to take care of baby!wind is just so cute sue me. They finally make their way to the temple of time to take a much needed breather and plan their next move.

Wild and Hyrule have the traumatizing unfortunate experience of gathering tears in a silent realm before they can take stock of what's happened. Poor guys. At least they have a cool dusk relic, right?

Legend, Four, and Twilight learn about the principles of Buddhism in the ancient cistern. They are met on the outside of the temple by a water dragon who is not happy that three boys trespassed.

Wars and Sky were actively plummeting to their deaths before Sky realized what was happening. He whistled, and sure enough his loyal Crimson came to their rescue. Sky was ecstatic to be home, and he was eager to show the others, until he realized that they were nowhere to be found. The sinking feeling of dread increased tenfold when he reunited with the rest of the chain and no one had any idea where you were.

You were also experiencing that sinking feeling of dread. Because when you woke up, you had no idea where you were. Usually, you had a vague idea from the smells and sounds around you like birds chirping or the smell of saltwater, but there was nothing. At least, nothing that was obvious. And it scared you.

You rubbed your eyes with the back of your hand as you sat up. Pictographs decorated the walls and ceilings of the room you were in, telling a story you knew vaguely. Two portals, or were they gates? It doesn't matter too much, you guessed. As you moved to stand, a familiar voice sent chills down your spine.

"Ah, that so-called hero's little friend. Thank you ever so much for joining me. You will make an excellent motivator for him, and his descendants."

Fuck.

Agh, sorry this was so long!!! I'm very very tempted to write an actual one shot though...

☀️

(that first sentence is funnier than it should be, I'm sorry XD)

Please write this as a one shot. 9 times Reader is separated from the group and the one time they come to the Chain's rescue instead.

I fully support this.

Also- in Sky's era. XD

When he whistled, it seemed like he straight up ditched Warrior to keep falling. Poor dude was just never mentioned again. (Also, in Sky's era? Is that Ghira? I can't think of anyone else and I'm not that far into the game)

.......................I wanna chill with the yeti. That sounds so much better than freezing to death. DX I wanna try the soup.

[ninhaoma-ya]

For the fic writer meme: 4, 16, 32, 39,54. 56

Thank you very much for the asks!

4. Where do you find inspiration for new ideas?

All over the place. Reading something else, cycling home, listening to a podcast… mainly I blame the cosmic inspiration rays, streaming through the universe, combined with my lack of protective gear to stop the pesky buggers.

16. How many fic ideas are you nurturing right now? Share one of them?

Eeeeh… 94? <sweating>

And I’ll one-up the ask and share two! “How to win friends and influence people” for DoVio and “Chess game” for LawNa. And, of course, the rest of the prompts for this years Heart Pirates week which I will get to, eventually…

(And my latest reread of Discworld which had the unfortunate side-effect of inspiring me to start plotting a Moist von Lipwig-story…)

32. Name three of your favorite fanfic writers.

The list is too long for tumblr, but since I am in thesis hell, I lean towards hurt(/comfort) at the moment.

@chromatic-lamina for the Hearts (AO3 here)

@senlinyu for the angst (AO3 here)

@purplehairedwonder for that sweet, sweet whump (AO3 here)

39. Share a snippet from a WIP

Law grunted as he sliced through an enormous alligator, rearranging its parts with those of a nearby tree. Their path so far had been quite uneventful, but they were probably nearing the shade and good hiding spots of a ruined temple, if the increasing amount of beasts and just plain weird creatures were something to judge by.

“I’d say we’re nearing the main area,” Nico Robin said, echoing his thoughts, as she used her extra limbs to brush away greenery and peer through the undergrowth.

“What makes you say that,” Bepo asked, panting and surreptitiously clawing at the opening of his boiler suit. Law furrowed his brows – the mink sounded like he was suffering from the heat. He really should have left Bepo on the cool ship with Ikkaku and Franky, but Bepo had insisted… but what kind of captain was he if he didn’t put his crew’s needs before their wants? A quick Scan ensured him that Bepo was fine, even if he was running a bit of a temperature.

“If not for the increasing amount of things that try to kill us, which implies the presence of good hiding spots, such as could be created by a ruined temple," she said, pointing at a cracked stone tablet, “I’d say the sign that says ‘this way to main plaza and temple entrance’ in one of the ancient tongues of the island is a good indicator.”

54. What’s your favorite part about the fanfiction writing process?

Writing. Also, my least favourite part is writing. It’s good you get to write, but then you have to write, y’know? But I really enjoy getting lost in the story and finding the right way to express something, preferably with at least two layers of meaning to it.

56. What’s something about your writing that you pride yourself on?

My multi-layered jokes and easter eggs and call-backs and puns and wordplay. It’s fun to just go off on a pun-tangent and drop weird-ass almost-acronyms and still somehow make it make sense (for me at least). I’m still inordinately proud of my “plastered enough to start their own construction company” as a way to describe really, really drunk people in StatSig, for example.

I'm still accepting (and hoping for) more asks as I try to procrastinate working on my thesis, so anyone reading this; feel very free to ask away! List to be found here.

Answered: 1, 2, 4, 9, 11, 12, 16, 25, 26, 32, 39, 54, 56

[tammalee]

I played video games all evening. I also scared myself silly flying through the Forgotten Temple in Breath of the Wild.

If you are unfamiliar with Breath of the Wild, there are these ancient robots (called Guardians) that lock onto you with a laser and after a heart-stopping build-up of tension will unleash a blast of light that knocks you down and does massive damage. No matter how fast you run that laser stays trained on you. It's terrifying!

Now, imagine you stumble across this ancient, ruined temple deep in a canyon. You have to climb all over it to find the opening. Yay! You found it! There's got to be treasure inside, right? Ahead of you, you can see giant updrafts and you're already planning to jump and glide into an updraft with your little paraglider when you step out of the protection of the entryway...

Oh. Oh no. You feel your heart drop into your stomach as little lasers target your torso. One, two... three? HOW MANY BLOODY ROBOTS ARE THERE? I don't know how you would deal with this situation but the one "guide" I found online suggested fighting these things!

No. What I did, and what I suggest you do, too, is panic. Just run forward as fast as you can, leap, and glide to catch that updraft. GLIDE FOR YOUR LIFE AS MORE LASERS FIND YOU! HOW MANY ROBOTS ARE THERE? A DOZEN? MORE? As you glide you hit another updraft and whoosh up you go and whoosh blasts of light pass through where you had been. You've never been the target of so many killer robots before!

OH no! There is a big wall blocking your flight path! But wait, there is a hole in it ... you hit the wall and cling to it. Red lasers light you up like you're a Christmas tree! Desperately, you leap up and up again and juuuust manage to clear the wall as blasts of light hit the wall where you had been!

And there it is, the treasure of the temple... a shrine. You activate the shrine while fear-sweat cools on your skin. You made it. You're alive.

I can't believe I play this game for fun.

[tribaloflight]

((Just for my own personal satisfaction, I want to give some of my thoughts on Rebirth after having finished most everything in the game save for the superboss and some side stuff and dumping over 100 hours into the game. These are really in no particular order, but I'm numbering them out of habit.

Spoilers, naturally.

First, I'm kinda disappointed Deepground didn't show up at all after being brought back in Integrade. I figured that if they were going to show back up in the plot, that Scarlet, Rufus, or someone would have sent them after Cloud and company instead of just constantly relying on Rude and Elena. Only time any of the Tsviets shows up is in yuffie's 'trial' at the Temple of the Ancients where she relives her trauma of seeing Nero murder Sonon. Really hope they actually use the Tsviets in the third game otherwise having them in Integrade was kinda pointless.

Second, the minigame overload. I obviously expected a lot of holdover from the original like the gold saucer, fort condor, etc. But they added a lot more and actually trying to 100% them with my mediocre skills became so tedious that I just gave up on it towards the end to actually enjoy the story. I highly doubt I'll ever finish everything with Johnny because of that. It's just way too much of a grind.

Third, their handling of Cid, Vincent, and alterations to story content. Being absolutely honest: Cid and Vincent feel totally wasted here. Not only are they not playable characters, they are barely characters at all here. I get with how the game being based around disc 1 of the original that wouldn't give them much time to be usable given how late in that disc they joined, but they feel more like props than anything. It doesn't help that they completely cut out Rocket town for Cid which helped establish his character. Currently, I'm not even sure if that part of his backstory is even still canon in the rebirth continuity. Another thing is removing most of the northern continent stuff. Sure Icicle inn and the glacier didn't do much for the story save for visiting professor Gast's old lab and getting the info about his and Ilfana's relationship/Hojo murdering them but it's still worldbuilding they dropped for reasons of pacing. And to that, it's also incredibly weird how they literally moved where the temple of the ancients was, changing it from an island in the southern sea to RIGHT OUTSIDE THE SLEEPING FOREST. If that doesn't scream 'convenient', I don't know what does.

Finally, the ending. It really reached Kingdom hearts levels of confusing.

I get Sephiroth's new plan. He wants to make a reunion of all separate timelines of Final Fantasy VII into one where he controls all. Clearly the efforts from the first game created a new one where Zack lived. Also from the scene at the capital, there's likely at least one where Cloud had saved Aerith from Sephiroth and she IS still alive. The only thing is whether or not it's in the current rebirth timeline. Yes it looks like she is probably dead given only Cloud can see her, but it's not like they haven't made retcons before. The entire beginning of rebirth was one to the scene from Integrade. The plot point for the final game is set: Zack is going to work to try and find a way into the Rebirth timeline to help Cloud and the others stop Sephiroth. Hopefully this includes bringing Aerith with him, because frankly him living and her staying dead really reads as a cruel joke. Same if he ends up dying in the next game trying to protect the others.

And that's my greatest concern for the sequel. They make all these overtures about changes and expanding the lore, only to have the end result still be the same? If Aerith and Zack are still dead by the end of the final game, then I can't see the trilogy as anything but pointless. They expanded the story so much only to reach the exact same conclusion. I would be fine with that, but if they were going to do that, they could have stuck with a simple remake and made it a single game, instead of a trilogy that spans what will likely be nearly a decade of game releases. There's legit potential here but if they play it too safe then I think it's going to rub a lot of fans the wrong way.

Finally, I am happy that they made Gilgamesh a big side character. He's a beloved series icon, one of the best parts of V and I've always enjoyed his involvement with Hildibrand stuff in XIV but I really don't like that they put his level at about 20 past what endgame was on average, meaning if I want to fight him I have to do an ungodly amount of grinding.))

[anime-alyssa]

genshin boys valentine’s headcanons!

figured i’d be at least a little festive. these are kind of long so sorry sdkfsdfsd gonna put a read more. implied spice but not graphic - and i’m pretty sure i for once in my life kept it gender neutral so go me

these were kind of hard to do since i dont do hc’s really, i make fics and yall can for sure tell where i started to struggle skfsdfsd

they are also on ao3 so do not be alarmed 

Diluc:

He’d be acting like he didn’t give a shit about valentine’s day but this mf is a softie

Thinking he didn’t care, you’d offer to just stay in for the day or something

Honestly as long as it was just the two of you, you don’t really care

“What? No, we’re going out to dinner. I already planned it.” 

You were really surprised, since he hadn’t voiced an opinion on the holiday before

To him this year was different - you were married, so he assumes it should be a bigger deal

You dressed up in your favorite outfit and met him at Angel’s Share later that day and  you swear you saw his jaw drop to the floor 

He regained his composure before he could tease you about it, taking you to dinner as promised

He held your hand from across the table and listened to you ramble about whatever

You’d try to ask him things, but he’d shake you off, not wanting to talk about himself

Nothing was out of the ordinary, just a normal dinner

Until the walk home, when he pulled out a present for you

“I had this made for you.” 

A necklace made out of a Crystal core, melted into the Pyro symbol like his vision

You started to get weepy as he put it on, pressing a kiss to your temple and wrapping his arms around your middle to embrace you

You turned back around to kiss him on the lips

After that he couldn’t get you home fast enough

You thanked the archons that everyone else at the WInery was home for the night

Namely because he fucked you right against the door once you got him 

And on the reception desk

….. And the table

Kaeya:

Listen, this man dotes on you 

We all know Kaeya is the romantic type to the max so this is his day

He wakes you up by kissing up your body and making you orgasm

After that, he has to go in and work for a little bit 

You don’t really mind, he gave you a bag of Mora and told you to buy something nice because he’s taking you to Liyue for a few days

He plans on celebrating for days, apparently

“We have a lot to celebrate, don’t we? It’s been quite a year.”

Well, he wasn’t wrong about that

When you get to Liyue, immediately your taken out to dinner and told to order anything you wanted 

You almost feel bad when you glance at the bill, saying it's not fair he did everything when it was supposed to be for both of you.

Later on that night, you and Kaeya walked around Liyue harbor together

“You didn’t have to do all this for me - really.”

He looked at you like you were crazy and smirked 

“But I did.”

Imagine the look on your face when he got down on one knee

After you stopped crying, you somehow managed a yes

Once you get back to where you were staying, he was on you

Except now it’s time for you to show him how you feel

He doesn’t complain when you do

The reminder of your days in Liyue are spent in a similar fashion: eating and fucking

Childe:

He has it planned down to the second

When you woke up he was gone, making you upset

But when you walked out of the bedroom and saw the dozens of roses, all was forgiven

He left you a note, saying he’d be back shortly but to get ready to go out.

Once he was home, he found you and immediately embraced you

He was always one to shower you in compliments to begin with but today he was extra complimenting on everything about you

He planned the entire day around your favorite things to do, from going to the tea shop and to the bookstore

You tried to fit in something he liked to do, but he fought you

“I’m happy seeing you happy, you know that!” 

God damn it, he made your heart melt 

You got home that night and he cooked for you

And it was actually really, really good

He got you a few presents too, of course

Custom made jewelry, of course 

You fell asleep on him that night, with his arms wrapped around you and your head on his chest

You had been cuddling for what felt like hours, exchanging loving kisses between conversation

You didn’t miss how he said he couldn’t wait till next year

Xiao:

Thinks that it’s incredibly dumb 

“It’s a waste of time” he says

You get visibly sad, thinking now that you’re not gonna do anything for the whole day

You were gonna make him his favorite and everything, as a surprise

Now you’re just sad 

Oh fuck oh fuck why are you upset red alert Xiao - 

He asks Zhongli for advice, which isn’t any fucking good cause he tells him to show you how much he loves you 

How the fuck does he do that?

He doesn’t know

He settles for trying to comfort you in his own way, cuddling with you and apologizing for being an ass

You accept, and offer to make Almond Tofu for the two of you, but he says he’ll make it instead

It isn’t very good, but the thought is what matters

He tried and that was enough for you

After dinner he gets very touchy

That damn Harbinger was with Zhongli, he mentioned this is also something women like

He wasn’t too keen to believe him, but the way you moaned just now made his dick twitch

The rest of the night he shows you just how much he really loves you

Albedo:

You didn’t think he knew that Valentine’s Day existed, honestly 

Imagine your surprise when he woke you up with flowers, and saying he took the day off

…. But that you needed to go out for work first

You didn’t argue, he hardly ever took time off, so you’d go with him to get his supplies

Even if that meant you’d fucking freeze in Dragonspire

Once you got to his workstation in the mountain, he suggested a way to warm you up

Your heart skipped a beat, until he pulled out a warming potion

“What’s wrong? Drink it and you can be warm again.”

You drank it, and then explained what you had thought he meant

He laughed in your face, of course

“Don’t worry, that will come… after dinner.” 

Now you were fidgeting with anticipation the rest of the damn night 

(that was also something that didn’t happen to often, damn workaholic)

He started to notice at Angel’s Share, but you blamed it on the Dandelion Wine

He saw right through you, but of course made it up later that night

Right before you were about to go to sleep, you felt him slip something on your finger

It was a ring - obviously handmade. It glowed a pretty yellow color, much like his vision

“Happy Valentine’s, my love.” 

Zhongli:

He doesn’t quite understand what the big deal is 

“Why is there a day dedicated to love? I say it everyday, right?”

He thinks it's just a consumer-made holiday

Which it is, obviously

But god damn it you just want your boyfriend to treat you to fucking dinner

Even if it’s just Grilled Tiger Fish, that would suffice considering the former Archon never remembers his damn Mora 

You thought you had died when he walked you into the finest restaurant in Liyue

You refused to order until you had proof he had Mora on him

He agreed with a laugh and showed you that he had plenty 

He had arranged the table himself, apparently, moving both chairs next to each other

This was so he could hold you throughout the evening, make sure you were okay 

And whisper raunchy things into your ear while you tried to watch the entertainment like everyone else 

For someone who didn’t understand the hype he was feeding into it quite a bit 

He may be ancient, but he still had game 

By the time you were done, your thighs were red from you rubbing them together

You tried to make it into the bedroom, but he was quicker than you were 

He called the rest of the night getting his Mora’s worth 

Scaramouche:

“You’re kidding me? You care about that?”

You should have known that would be the reaction, honestly

After begging hard enough, he agrees to dinner

You claim he gave in, he claims he was going to do it anyway

(he gave in)

He spent almost the whole time irritated that everyone was lovey-dovey

“Scara, that’s how it is today. We look like the odd ones out.”

He couldn’t have any of that, so he moved his chair next to yours and ate with one arm around your shoulder the rest of the time 

You dragged him around to do things that you saw other couples doing

You know, like holding hands and going for walks, eating some street food

Couple things

He was quiet for most of the night, humoring you

You saw a nice necklace that you wanted while you were walking, but was offput by the price

They wanted how much Mora for that?!

You were eating a snack when Scaramouche walked away, saying he’d be back 

A few minutes later, he clasped the necklace around your neck

“I don’t want to hear it. Isn’t that the whole point of the holiday? Buying shit for your partner?” 

You tried to tell him it wasn’t just that, but he shut you up with some kisses

When you got home, he shut you up with more than just kisses

“This is what I was looking forward to today.”

[c-r-ash-crash]

New Life Chapter 2

Grian yanked his comm out of his pocket and pulled up the player list. He needed to know if he was the only yellow life. He glanced over it and saw a mix of colors. Him, Jimmy, Scott, Ren, and Cleo were all on their yellow lives. He saw a smattering of light green names in the list (Impulse, Skizz, and Bigb). The rest were all a dark green.

“Why do we all have a different number of lives?” Ren asked in chat. Martyn’s response popped in. “I think it’s random this round. Probably a way to make it more interesting.” “You don’t all have four lives?” Lizzie asked.

Grian froze, hand hovering over the communicator screen. Lizzie had four lives. How did Lizzie have four lives? That shouldn’t have been possible. You got three lives, and then you permadied. Or at least, you were a ghost until everyone on the server bit the dust. Lizzie shouldn’t have gotten more. It wasn’t fair.

Bitterly, Grian forced a laugh out. Of course it wasn’t fair. Nothing about this curse of a server was fair. He should’ve been on Hermitcraft, pulling pranks and building an alleyway filled with magic. He wasn’t supposed to be here, shoved back into a horrific trial of life and death. It wasn’t fair.

A new message on his comm drew his attention back to the situation at hand. “Wait, do the different colors mean a different number of lives?” Mumbo asked “Yeah,” Tango said. “But the maximum number should be three.” “Lime green names mean that person has three lives,” Joel explained. “Yellow means two lives. Red means one life. Trust me, Mumbo. You don’t want to be on your red life.”

A chill ran through Grian, and quickly, he shut off the chat. He didn’t need to be reminded of crimes past. He needed to shift through his admin panels anyways, figure out what was different this time around.

He slumped against a tree, sliding to the ground as he entered command after command. Screen after screen of code appeared, most of it the same player code as always. But about twenty screens in, he noticed something strange in the list of crafting recipes. In the TNT recipe, where there should have been gunpowder, there was instead sugarcane. Grian whistled softly under his breath. That was a game changer. Explosives would be so much easier to get his hands on his own. He chose to ignore the idea that the new recipe would also make it easier for others to make the weapons.

He dug further into the code, and found a list of commands, most of which were disabled for all players, even the admin. But one jumped out at him. “Give life.” His eyes widened. Could they transfer lives between themselves? Was that why some players had more lives? He swore under his breath. With a mechanic like this, lives were the most valuable currency imaginable. Suddenly his eyes lit up as he realized that meant he could push himself back up to his green life. Maybe he could even gain more.

His mind began racing, sorting through and dismissing people he could scam out of lives. He couldn’t do anyone who was on their yellow life like him. They needed to avoid red lives at all costs. He should probably also avoid anyone on their green life, just in case. But given that everyone with a dark green life seemed to have four lives. Finally, he settled on Scar.

A knot of guilt nestled up in his chest, but he shoved it down. Scar would understand. He would probably be happy to five it in fact. Besides, Grian had already owed Scar a life. Scar could return the favor. Surely he’d understand. They were surviving. Putting Scar down to three lives wouldn’t really hurt him. Scar had survived into the late game with only one life. It would be fine. Before Grian could second guess himself further, he stood up and set off.

Scott dug into the ground, pickaxe breaking through the stone and leaving a small hole. He swung again, hair hanging down into his face. He brushed it away, but froze when he felt cold metal around his temples. Slowly, he reached up, hands curling around a thin circlet, fingers wrapping around thin spires of gold. He removed it and held it in front of his face. It was a thin gold crown, lightly tarnished. It was in near perfect condition, except for a small trace of dark red along the bottom of some of the spires.

Scott’s face fell, eyes clouding over, as memories filled his head. The sight of a small, broken body, an arrow pierced through the chest, a grave adorned with flowers and a small garden of poppies planted around it. Anger welled up in his chest. He reeled back and chucked the crown away from him. It clattered to the ground loudly, and Scott’s shoulders slumped in relief. Then, slowly, the crown began to dissolve into bunches of light. Then, they began to float off the ground and swirled around Scott. They settled into his hair, and hardened into metal once again. “No, no, no,” Scott muttered, yanking the crown off his head, and smashing it into the ground. He couldn’t do this again. The crown simply appeared on his head yet again, heedless of his wishes.

Suddenly, a soft voice drifted through the air, startling him. “Hello?” it called out. “Is everything alright?” “It’s fine!” Scott called, a bit more harshly than he meant to. “Are you sure?” the voice said. Then, Pearl appeared from behind a rock. “I heard something fall.” “Oh, yeah,” Scott said, forcing himself to sound fine. “Just dropped my pick. Nothing to worry about. Say...” he muttered, eyeing her wrist and the small dark green hearts embedded there. “Mind showing me your wrist? Wanna know how many lives you ended up with.” “Oh, sure,” Pearl said, cheerfully pulling up her jacket sleeve and proffering her wrist. Scott’s jaw dropped slightly when he saw the six hearts there. “You have six lives,” he muttered. “Yeah,” Pearl said sheepishly, pulling her sleeve back down. “I figured from everyone’s reaction to Lizzie and Mumbo having four lives, this much was unusual.” “Yeah,” Scott said. “Last time, we only had a maximum of three lives. You know...a deal might be in our best interest.”

Bdubs and Etho blocked up the entrance to their little cave. “Kind of glad I ended up with you,” Bdubs said. “If there’s anyone on the server I’d want as an ally, it’s you, Etho. And maybe Grian. I mean, he did win the game last time.” “I’m honored,” Etho said, pulling a small furnace from his pocket and tossing it to the ground. It expanded to a full size block, and Etho began to load it with fuel. “But you know I’m not actually all that powerful, right? I only survived last time because I got lucky. And even then, I died to something as pathetic as a fire. Don’t overestimate my abilities.” “Well, don’t sell yourself short,” Bdubs said. “You’re ancient. You know things about this universe that I’m pretty sure even some of the gods don’t.”

Etho opened his mouth to say something, but before he could, floating text appeared in front of his and Bdubs’ eyes. “1...” “What is the server doing now?” Bdubs asked. “I don’t know,” Etho said, the slightest hint creeping into his voice. “2...” “It’s counting down,” Bdubs said. “I noticed,” Etho deadpanned, loading the salmon he had caught into the furnace. “3...”

Across the server, the text read: “You are not the boogeyman.” But for Bdubs, bright red letters screamed, “You are the boogeyman.” What did that mean?

[heliads]

I Need a Savior

Based on this request: "A songfic for My Demons by Starset? Stiles and the reader are twins. She’s a witch and part of Scott’s pack. The reader helps Scott and the others get rid of the nogitsune and save Stiles."

masterlist

There’s a video playing on your computer. You’re sitting before it, knees tucked up to your chest like you’re a child right now instead of watching yourself as one on the screen in front of you. Your eyes are glued to the two playing figures as if they’ll find some way to save you from the mess you’ve found yourself in, as if by watching what you used to have you’ll be able to have it all back once more.

You’re not alone in the video. The four-year-old Y/N rarely was, and in this particular video her laugh is joined by someone else- your twin brother, Stiles. He’s racing after you in a grassy backyard, in the midst of some no doubt momentous game of tag. He’s shouting something at the top of his tiny lungs as he goes, something about how he’ll always get back to you in the end. If only you could make that same promise now.

The video ends, but you still sit there, unable to move. It’s barely been a few days that your brother was fully possessed by the Nogitsune, but the loss still cuts at you like a knife. Stiles is your twin brother, older only by ten minutes or so. You’ve never had to go without him for longer than a few hours- he’s always there, at home or at school or at your father’s station. This, knowing that he’s somewhere within Beacon Hills but utterly gone to you, is an entirely different kind of pain.

A knock sounds at the door, and you look up to see your father hovering in the doorframe. His attempt at a reassuring smile drops as he sees the video still up on your screen. “I thought I heard voices.” You sigh. “I miss him, Dad. I miss Stiles.” Sheriff Stilinski sighs, walking inside the room at last. “So do I. We’re going to get him back, though. Don’t worry about that.”

You throw your hands in the air, frustrated. “We don’t know that! We don’t know that at all. This is so out of our range that it’s almost crazy. I mean, you barely even started to believe us about the supernatural. You didn’t trust us that werewolves existed, and now my brother has been possessed by a spirit that’s thousands of years old. None of us have any proof that we’re going to get him back.”

Your father winces for a second, then his expression smooths over again. “I’ve heard what you said about all your other exploits with Scott. He never gave up on anything or anyone, and I know you won’t either. None of us are giving up on Stiles, and even if it means that we have to play the long game to get him back, we will. Sure, I may not completely get why Scott McCall went from a kid with terrible asthma to a werewolf, but I know we won’t leave my son behind.”

His voice twists slightly as he says ‘my son’, and you’re hit with the distinct memory that you’re not the only one grieving someone you might have already lost. Yes, you lost your twin brother, but the sheriff lost his son. You can’t snap on him completely. So, you close your laptop screen, forcing the image of you and Stiles away into the darkness, and stand up. “What do you say we get some dinner? It’s late and I’m hungry.” Sheriff Stilinski nods, accepting this best attempt at an apology, and heads back downstairs. You’re left in the dark again, alone.

You can’t help but think through the whole thing over again. Your dad’s right- there’s no way Scott or you or anyone else is remotely considering letting Stiles go. You’ve seen Scott before, and you’ve known him for almost as long as he’s known your brother, so you know for a fact that he won’t give up until your twin is back and as he should be.

Besides, you’ve got another tool in your kit that will help you rescue Stiles- namely, your magic. You are a witch, just like the women in your family before you. Well, just like most of them. Your mother, Claudia, should have inherited the power of the family coven, but the magic seemed to skip over a generation and it went to you instead. Your grandmother kept the power of the witches a secret until it manifested in you a few years ago. You’ve learned spells from her, and you’re hoping that you’ll be able to use at least one of them to save Stiles.

This, actually, is what you find yourself doing the next day. Scott calls you up early, saying something in a rushed tone about how he found an old story about a healing spell in some dusty text in Deaton’s storage. You head over there immediately, and are surprised to find that Scott’s spell just might work. It’s fairly simple, as spells go, but it’ll take a lot out of you. In the spell, you’ll be able to peel back the Nogitsune’s control over Stiles, but you’re not sure that you’ll be able to completely eradicate the spirit’s presence from your brother’s mind, you don’t have enough power for that. Then again, even a brief reprieve for Stiles may help you save him.

So, you, Scott, Lydia, Allison, Isaac, Kira, and the rest head down to where Stiles was last spotted. Derek’s waiting for you there, and he points wordlessly into the Beacon Hills preserve. “I think the Nogitsune is trying to find the Nemeton. He just went in there a few minutes ago.” You nod your gratitude, already slipping between the trees. You used to play in these very woods with your brother when you were small, doing your best to escape your father’s watch long enough to have some fun before the rules came crashing back down around you.

When you see Stiles at once, you almost wonder if you’ve stepped back into your memories. It makes no sense- surely, you should be able to tell that this is an ancient spirit and not your brother. You should know your twin by soul and heart and word, shouldn’t you? Yet, for that one moment, you want to run over to him, sure that Stiles has managed to shake the spirit possessing him and come back to you.

Then Stiles turns around, and you’re hit by a wave of utter wrongness. There’s no other way to describe it- this being is your brother in flesh, sure, but in nothing else. There is no soul in the eyes looking at you, no love or even familiarity in the gruesome smile twisting this thing’s lips. The body is your twin brother, but the mind, oh the mind is so far from being him that it’s almost repulsive.

The Not-Stiles leers at you from where he stands amongst the trees, taking a few steps towards you as if relishing your horror. “Ah. I see my sister has come to visit me.” You shake your head. “I’m not your sister. You’re not him.” The Nogitsune shrugs. “Well, I see I can’t fool you like the others. Unfortunate.” Scott and the others have reached you by now, and your old friend hands you a scanned copy of the spells. You take it wordlessly, although you notice that the Nogitsune’s eyes widen almost imperceptibly at the transferral of the document.

Seconds later, its voice rings out across the forest again, and you swear you can detect an almost nonexistentant strand of nervousness in the spirit’s voice. It’s as if it’s woven trepidation in with the usual array of emotions as it toys with Stiles’ vocal chords. “What’s that about?” You ignore it, beginning to read the spell. You can only hope that it will work, that it will clear the Nogitsune from Stiles’ mind long enough to speak with him.

You finish reading out the spell and stand there for a moment, unsure of what to do next. At first, it looks as if the spell hasn’t done anything at all, and then the boy in front of you that was previously not your brother spasms slightly, bending over at the waist. When he straightens, you know at once that Stiles is back. You run to him, unable to keep a slight sob from tearing its way out of your throat. “Stiles!”

He catches you in his arms. Stiles feels the same way he always has- your brother is well and truly back. He stammers at first, hand rising to his temples as if he can’t believe that he’s back in control once more. “Y/N- it’s me. I’m me.” You muffle another sob. “How are you? Are you okay?” A dark look crosses Stiles’ face now, so mute in its agony that you almost think the Nogitsune has come back to possess him once more.

“It’s bad, Y/N. It’s really bad. I keep trying to fight, but it’s like I’m going insane. Even now, I can feel it circling around me like a vulture.” He grabs at your hands now. “I need you to save me, Y/N. I’m becoming it.” You try to speak, but you can’t find the strength. Already, the power necessary to cast the spell is wearing at you; you’ll only be able to keep it up for so long.

Stiles seems able to sense this, and his voice takes on an additional note of urgency. “I need you to make everything okay again, Y/N. I can’t fight this forever.” You shake your head slightly, afraid to let him down yet knowing that you can’t do much more. “I’m not all-powerful, Stiles. I wish I was.” Something like a broken half-smile flits onto his face. “You’ve always been able to take my pain away, Y/N. Not like Scott, but because of you. We are one and the same, are we not? We’re twins. I know you can do this.”

The spell is clawing at you now, practically tearing you into pieces. You manage to fight it back. You can’t let him go yet- you just got Stiles back. “What can we do? How do I get you back?” Stiles looks panicked, as if he can physically feel the Nogitsune forcing its way back into his head once more. “I don’t know. I don’t know anything. I just need you, Y/N. Save me if I become this demon.”

Then you’re stumbling, lost in an intense thicket of pain. The spell is overwhelming you now, and through tears you release it, letting your thin veneer of control go once more. Scott and the others catch you before you fall, but you’re not paying attention to yourself anymore. No, you’re looking back at your brother, or the body of a boy that was once your brother. The Nogitsune is back, and all traces of Stiles can only be seen in his physical form once more. You feel like sobbing, like breaking down entirely, but you remember what Stiles asked you to do. You have to save him, and that is exactly what you intend on doing.

In the end, you do save him, along with Scott and the others. You barely have time to mourn Allison’s death before you’re plunged into yet another peril, this time to take the Nogitsune down for good. You end up separating from the pack as they go into battle, choosing instead to maintain protective spells around the area that will keep the Oni and other aspects of the Nogitsune from killing your friends. The cost of maintaining all of that magic is wearing on you, but you stand firm. When Scott calls out to you, asking you to give him one last ounce of strength or courage or anything, you do it. Anything to save your brother.

They come out of the school in the end. Walking with them is a dark-haired boy who’s been your friend since birth, someone who was there to take his first steps with you and make you laugh when no one else could. For a second, you draw back, terrified that after all of this the Nogitsune might still be lurking under some crevice of Stiles’ mind, ready to draw him back under again, but when your brother looks at you, you breathe a deep sigh of relief. It’s him. It really and truly is.

Before you can run to him, though, Scott is offering you a small container. “We trapped the Nogitsune inside it, but it could escape at any moment. Can you secure it?” You nod, the spell to contain the evil spirit already running through your head. A second earlier, you would swear that you didn’t have enough energy to levitate a feather, let alone trap a thousand-year-old spirit, but you’re not about to let any chance of harm come to your twin again.

When you finish the spell, you see Stiles straighten up beside you, as if one last chain binding him to the earth has been released, one final shackle broken. You carefully hand the now-bound contained to Scott, and wrap your arms around Stiles. He holds you tight for a second, then steps away, holding you at arm’s length as if he’s almost forgotten what you look like. “Thank you for helping me. Scott told me that you’ve been using your magic to save us.”

Scott nods fervently. “I don’t know that we could have done it without her. Her spells saved our asses several times over.” You can’t help but grin shakily at that. “I needed to get you back. Anything else didn’t really matter.” Stiles hugs you one last time. “Thank you, anyway.” You smile back at him. “Of course, we’re family. You’re my twin, I would do anything for you. Besides, you asked me to save you and so I did. We don’t have to be our demons anymore.”

teen wolf tag list: my savior @underc0vercryptid

[permafusion-stevonnie]

So this idea isn’t leaving my head. While I’m not going to get it started for now, since I want to concentrate on my current Stevonnie comic, ideas are still ticking away and I just really wanted to draw this cover for the idea.

Maybe I’ll get its own page started in time. I’ll let you know if I do. But even if I did, I wouldn’t expect regular updates to it, not while I’m working on Together Forever.

I want to quickly say something that I think some people may have gotten confused about when I was talking about the Fallout Universe before:

Crystal Gems are still called Crystal Gems, but their role is similar, but not the same as the Brotherhood of Steel. In that they are isolationists, who will try to protect humanity from dangerous gem technology, and corrupted gems. they aren’t bothered with human mutants, human problems, or human technology. But I feel that, ove time, Steven will help their character growth away from this and help them, at least, start opening up to the local comminuty and helping where they can.

Homeworld Authority is still called Homeworld, or The Authority, but take on a similar role to the Enclave. They view themselves as the rightful masters of earth and they’re automatically more superior to any other lifeform by birthright.

I have been thinking over what could have occurred to create this world, how’s this for a (work in progress) backstory: (ended up a lot longer than I thought it would, so I’m space saving by putting in this break)

The Gem colonisation of earth happened later than it did in canon. A couple of thousand years, maybe. Unlike the 6000 years ago in canon, it was perhaps 5000, or maybe 4000 years ago. Enough for a bigger human civilisation to take part in the gem war for earth.

Pink still gets her colony started, still changes her mind about it, and finally chooses to become Rose Quartz to lead the rebellion. I think the human zoo will still be made, because I like the idea of that being around to give a mash-up of the human zoo and the mother ship zeta dlc from Fallout 3.

What really diverges from the timeline is when the rebellion starts fighting back with larger groups of human allies. 4000 (or 5000) years ago we are talking some good military strategies, chariots, bows and arrows, cavalries and tactics, etc. Some research will be needed to really flesh out the lore.

Homeworld, facing a bigger threat than a hundred or so rebels, puts a little more effort into research and development of newer technologies to counteract the human strategies. Nothing develops technologies quite like war.

Rose and the others start capturing some technologies from Homeworld and start studying them to not only understand them, but even attempting to reverse engineer them. They obviously won’t be able to replicate the weapons in form, but hope to do so in function.

This is where Scribes would come in for the Crystal Gems are the replacement for the Brotherhood of Steel that I’ve talked about before. Some Gems and some clever humans, would dedicate themselves to trying to understand the newer Gem technology they’re starting to see.

With inventive people like Bismuth to build their own version of it.

The actual Gem Technology will be locked away in the temple- or whatever name I may give it- but the remake versions that the Crystal Gems turn out will be spread far and wide.

I’m just thinking off the top of my head, but it’d be like- if they tried to make their own version of the gem destabiliser, it would be like a giant tuning fork hooked up to something similar to a large Baghdad Battery (google it, it’s kinda cool) that they would carry in a backpack.

The war would carry on like that, with Homeworld making new tech to combat the threat, sooner or later the rebellion captures some, they make their own version of it, and Homeworld makes new tech to combat the threat.

This drain on resources does take its toll on Homeworld though, and their war against earth is perhaps much shorter, between 300 and 800 years, I haven’t decided yet.

Things do play out similar to canon though. Homeworld decides to abandon earth as a lost cause, implant the Cluster so they’ll get something out of the deal and the three Diamonds blast the earth with their powers as a final middle finger to the rebels.

Gems are destroyed, except for the original Crystal Gems, and Bismuth! Canon Bismuth made a lot of regular weapons and armour and the rebellion was still losing. She was driven to making the Breaking Point because she didn’t think they had a chance of winning any other way. In this new canon, however, because Bismuth was working on newer and newer weapons all the time, each one she was confident would help turn the tide of the war, she never had chance to work on the ultimate weapon of the Breaking Point. She may have designed it, or may have the idea kicking around the back of her mind, but never got around to building it. 

Rose does her thing of finding somewhere isolated to live in both peace and regret for the war. This is where the Crystal Gems become isolationists

With the Gems gone, humans are left to their own devices with all this more advanced technology than they should have in this point in history. Tech continues to develop with this head start.

Fast forward to the year 1929 and people are living lives as you’d see in the Fallout universe in the 2070′s. Nuclear fulled cars, robot assistants, laser rifles and power armour and all that other stuff.

The reason I chose 1929 is two-fold. The first Fallout game was set 84 years after the nuclear war, and 84 years after 1929 is the year 2013; the year Steven Universe first aired.

The failing of the world is the same reason the Fallout universe failed. Resources started to become scarce, wars started over what remained and the whole thing was escalated by a race that may have been too young to fully understand the forces they were really dealing with, having come a long way, but still too fast, thanks to the ancient interference.

Nuclear hellfire rained down and some people took their shelter in the vaults, while everyone else had to find ways to survive outside.

Rose and the Gems stick to their isolation as humanity all but wipes itself out. Rose is heartbroken to see the beautiful world that she fought so hard for, so easily destroyed. There can be a lot to explore there. Maybe Rose will leave the group, maybe she’ll just wander off and be alone a lot but still return to the temple eventually. I haven’t decided yet.

Perhaps all the gems will have some additional guilt, knowing that their old tech is what pushed humanity so far so fast.

Fast forward 70 years and Rose meets a travelling wastelander named Greg. They fall in love. I’m not going to go into a lot of detail here mostly because I haven’t really thought too much about it, but partly because I know I want it to be explored within the story itself to show how different from canon it would be. Not just the flashback elements from “Story for Steven,” and "We Need to Talk," with a Fallout flair. I want to work out some other nice adventures to bring them together.

Rose and Greg come back to Beach City with Rose expecting their baby.

Steven is born and the Gems immediately take custody, with the logic that their secure base is a better place for Steven to grow up than the harsh wasteland. Greg is allowed to visit as often as he likes, but not stay there. Nor is Steven allowed off the base. They want to protect the legacy of their leader, Rose.

I’m going to say that Steven starts showing hints of Gem powers around 10 years old. Nothing he can control. Perhaps his Gem glows when he’s really happy, if he falls down some steps his bubble forms but immediately pops so it’s just enough to save him from injury. Little things like that.

But this serves as a point where The Gems start “encouraging” Greg to visit less and leave the raising of Steven to them, as his upbringing has now become “Gem Business”

Steven may have snuck off the base once or twice to see the world beyond the base, but after this he’ll do it a lot more often to see his dad and the Beach City settlement.

I think Bismuth suspects he sneaks off but both can’t prove it, and doesn’t want to try and prove it, Garnet knows but says nothing, both of them are letting Steven have his fun, and Pearl has no idea he does it.

Amethyst is not part of the group in the beginning, she’s out as part of a raider gang somewhere. Thank you to theyarheeguy for giving me that idea, and many others, to work with.

A total of 84 years after the bombs dropped, Steven is now 12 years old, sneaking off the base for another visit to town, when he spots a pretty young girl dressed in a strange blue jumpsuit, emerging from a hidden trapdoor that was underneath the old Beach City water-tower.

Steven is 12 because I believe that’s how old he was when the show started. Based on the timeline, the passing of the seasons and so on, he has to have a 13th birthday that we don’t see on screen, before we do see his 14th birthday.

[carriagelamp]

Art of Aardman

I found myself a cheap copy of the Shaun the Sheep movie, so I was rewatching a bunch of Aardman films earlier this month and decided to hunt down some books too. For anyone that doesn’t know, Aardman is a British stop-motion studio that does fantastic work like Wallace and Gromit, Shaun the Sheep, Chicken Run, Early Man… tons of cool stuff. They’re always quirky and funny and warm-hearted. This was just a very nice art book for anyone that’s a fan of Aardman stop motion and wants to see a bit extra; it shows some cool concept art and blows up the neat details in Aardman work, especially in their intricate stuff like The Pirates! In an Adventure with Scientists!

Asterix and the Picts (Asterix and the Chariot Race, and How Obelix Fell Into The Magic Potion)

I decided to try a couple of the new Asterix comics that were done by the new team, just to see if they stand up to the old ones (that and How Obelix Fell Into The Magic Potion cause I’d never read that one before). They were pretty decent! Asterix and the Picts was my favourite of the two though I wouldn’t say either are going to contest for my favourite Asterix comic... but still! The art looks good and the stories felt like what I would expect, they made for a pleasant couple evenings of reading especially since it’s been so long since I’ve read a new Asterix comic. If you’ve never read Asterix it’s one of the biggest name French comic series in North America, as far as I know and very worth the read. It’s about a single Gaulish village that’s holding out against the invading Romans through sheer force of will, slapstick hijinks, and a magical super-strength potion brewed by their druid. Lots of fantastic visuals and cute wordplay, even in the English translations.

Bear

I found out about this bastion of Canadian literature via tumblr post that was losing its collective mind over the fact that some bizarre bear-based erotica novella somehow won the most prestigious literary prize available in Canada. Since I too found this hilarious and unspeakably bizarre I had to give it a read, obviously. And yes, the flat surface level summary is... a librarian moves out into rural Ontario and falls in love with a literal for-real not-supernatural-not-a-joke bear. And I have to say… it is actually worthy of an award, which I was not expecting given that I was there for a laugh. It has beautiful writing, and the subtextual story is pretty interesting… it kind of makes me think of The Haunting of Hill House actually in terms of themes. (Womanhood, personhood, independence, autonomy partially achieved through escaping the male gaze by claiming non-human lovers... listen if I were still in university I would right a paper comparing the two novels).

I dunno man, it’s fucking weird. Actually a well-written book, but sure is about a woman falling in love with a literal bear. Give it a read if you want something bonkers but like… high-brow bonkers.

Hunger Pangs: True Love Bites

Best book I have read in like… a while. A long while. I am not a fast reader, and I consumed 90% of this book over a weekend. It’s not at all like Terry Pratchett, but at the same time it scratched an itch for me that I haven’t had satisfied since Pratchett’s death. A very clever, hilariously funny poly romance between a disabled werewolf, an anxious vampire lord, and an incredibly powerful woman, with heaps of social satire, political commentary, and sinister undertones. The whole thing reads a bit like fanfiction and I say that in the most flattering way possible -- it is so easy to jump right in and be immediately taken over by the characters and the world and the plot, you never feel like you’re fighting to engage even though the world-building is fascinating and expansive. It welcomes you in right away, it was the book equivalent of a quilt and a hug which is something I sorely needed with all this pandemic bullshit. If you read any of the books on this list, go read that one while I sit here in pain waiting for the sequel.

Kid Paddle

I watched the cartoon of Kid Paddle as a kid and was thinking about it recently, so I decided to hunt down some of the original comics online. They’re fun and weird, with a cute art style and fantastic monsters designs. (My favourites are always about Kid either daydreaming or playing games that involve Midam’s weird warty troll creatures. It’s like a cross between Calvin and Hobbes and Foxtrot with the fun sort of quirks that I love in Belgian comics. Unfortunately, unlike Asterix, I’ve only come across these ones in French, but if you can read French it’s totally worth popping over to The Internet Archive and reading the ones they have available.

The Last Firehawk: The Golden Temple

The lastest Firehawk book. Despite being written for quite young readers, I did enjoy the early books in this series quite a bit. They’re about a young owl and squirrel who found an egg for a magical species that was believed to be extinct. With the newly hatched firehawk, the three of them head off on a mission to find an ancient firehawk magic that could save the entire forest. Very basic adventure story but a good intro to the tropes for children. Unfortunately the quality really feels like it drops with each subsequent book; this will probably be the last one I bother reading.

Lumberjanes: The Moon Is Up

I honestly think I enjoy these Lumberjanes novels even more than the comics just because it really gives time to delve into each story and examine how the camper are really thinking and feeling about everything. (Also I’m always weak for novelizations of anything.) The Moon Is Up is a book that focuses more on Jo, and takes place during the camp’s much anticipated Galaxy Wars, a competition between cabins that goes over several days. While the campers prepare for these challenges though, they also run into a strange little creature with a penchant for cheese and theft. Roanoke cabin needs to keep ahead in Galaxy Wars and somehow deal with the fearsome Moon Pirates that a closing in...

Lumberjanes v4 (Out Of Time)

One of the Lumberjanes comics, a cool, girl-focused, queer comic series. Honestly, this is just a fun series that I never got as into as I should have. My advice is honestly to skip book one because it gets better as it continues, and I’ve really been enjoying the later books now that I’ve given it another go. It follows five campers at Miss Qiunzella Thiskwin Penniquiqul Thistle Crumpet’s Camp for Hardcore Lady Types (Jo, April, Molly, Mal, and Ripley) as they handle all sorts of challenges, from friendship to crushes, camp activities to supernatural horrors, getting badges to not being brutally killed. Great if you liked the vibe of Gravity Falls but want it to be queer-er.

Mooncakes

Another queer graphic novel, but unfortunately not a very good one. It really looked appealing and I had high hopes, but the book itself really didn’t hold up… I actually couldn’t even finish it, the plot was just too… non-existent. The art is fairly mediocre once you actually look at it, especially backgrounds, and it feels very… placid. Not much conflict or excitement or even a very compelling reason to keep reading. If you just want a soft queer supernatural you may get more mileage out of it than me, but it didn’t really do it for me. There’s better queer graphic novels out there.

New Boy In Town

One of the worst books I have ever read. My girlfriend had ordered a very different book online but through a frankly stupendous error was sent this 1980s pulp romance instead. Absolutely nauseating on levels I couldn’t even begin to enumerate here. Naturally we read the whole thing out loud. Probably took us 10 times longer to finish than it warranted because I had to stop every two sentences to lose my mind. If you like bad decisions, baffling hetero courting rituals, built-in cultural Christianity without actually calling it that, and gold panning then boy howdy is this the book for you.

(seriously, you better have patience for gold-panning if you attempt this one, because I sure learn that I don’t)

Piggies

This was a picture book I enjoyed as a kid and had a reason to reread recently. Honestly it’s just very cute and simple, and the art is completely mesmerizing. Wonderful if you know a young child that would enjoy a simple goofy boardbook.

Shaun the Sheep: Tales From Mossy Bottom

Related to my Aardman fascination earlier this month. I tried reading a varieties of Shaun the Sheep books — most of which are mediocre at best — but the Tales From Mossy Bottom Farm series is genuinely good. Just chapter books, of course, but the illustrations match the series’ concept art and each story feels like it could have jumped directly out of an episode. They’re just cute and feel-good! Kinda like Footrot Flats but more for kids, and from the sheep’s perspective moreso than the dog’s.

[killemwithkawaii]

Ok so I know you might have already a lot of questions but Sally with a S/O god or Ancient creature with powers of mind control or something like that

(You can answer whenever you want no pressure or you don't even havebto answered it, it's ok) thanks 🙇🏻‍♀️

Sally and his Psychic Eldritch Monster s/o-

[CW: Unreality, hallucinations, body horror, unsanitary, mind control/reading, hints at ns/fw]

Sal had had a nagging feeling for days. A little voice in his head kept telling him that he had forgotten or needed to do something- something very important. Some plan or item or promise, he just couldn't seem to put his finger on what exactly that thing was. 

He checked his calendar front to back and asked just about anybody he could think of to help him remember- was there an upcoming birthday he'd forgotten? Did he borrow something that he should have returned by now? Had he promised to babysit Soda, or play with Megan? Maybe it was a doctors visit? Or a huge assignment that would be due any day? No, no, no, none of that was right...

Wracking his brain for the answer had started causing him to lose more sleep than usual, and if the whispers and faint touches and unusual discomfort he'd started experiencing were any indication, it was starting to take a serious physical tole on him. His only clue was that he felt like he was on the verge of remembering whatever it was he needed to remember when he was near the apartments, though nobody who lived there had been of any help to him yet.

He wandered inside the empty lobby again on another sleepless night, during a walk meant to clear his head or jog his memory, following his gut to wherever felt like it might do the trick (this usually seemed to work, for better or for worse). His trial and error made him feel like like he was playing a game of hot and cold with himself, in an oddly literal sense:

Anywhere outside the apartment building felt freezing to him. It had been half the reason he couldn't get to sleep. It was the middle of summer, but there didn't seem to be enough blankets in the world to keep him from shivering. Hot showers and drinks didn't help, either, no matter how scalding he made them. It was as if his insides were coated with frost that refused to melt, and was slowly trying to freeze the rest of him solid.

Passing by the mailboxes, he felt his bones begin to thaw out. Entering the elevator, the air was tepid. He had feeling in his fingers and toes again, but still found it very difficult to raise his hand above the button for the basement. He opted to press it, since he couldn't reach the others, anyway.

The doors slid open. Going left felt right. Entering apartment 2B, he felt like he could finally take off his second sweatshirt. He did exactly that when he made his way into the bedroom with the ripped up carpeting.

Touching the handle to the trap door beneath it felt like being on the shore of the lake in July. For a moment, he felt a warm breeze across his skin, heard his friends laughing and calling him to join them in a game of chicken. He watched his own feet pad across the sun-baked sand and step into the water. He felt at ease, happy, wanted....

And then, he found himself back in the bedroom, the hatch door opened, one foot already in the stairwell.

A glitch? A very pleasant one, but a glitch none-the-less.

This was definitely the place. It was too obvious. But what had he possibly forgotten in the temple? He always made sure not to leave anything important behind on the rare occasion he ventured into that death trap, save for the cinderblocks he and Larry had carried down years earlier to trigger the mechanism that opened the gate.

Maybe he dropped something while dodging spikes the last time they went exploring? No, he always checked his pockets before he left...

Maybe he was supposed to retrieve some relic for Todd? He didn't remember him mentioning anything like that lately, though...

Maybe his intuition was hinting at upcoming D.O.G. activity, and he just hadn't quite consciously put the pieces together yet? It wouldn't be the first time, but this seemed different somehow...

Either way, he knew the smart move would be to turn around and wait until morning to get backup. He continued down the staircase, despite his better judgement. The pitch darkness and creaking boards usually gave him the chills, but this time, descending the steps felt more like he was slowly sinking into a perfectly hot, freshly-drawn bath.

The cinderblocks were still in place near the entrance of the temple, and so were the usual dust and cobwebs. The difference was that he could not smell the musty air that he had become accustomed to in such long-abandoned places. As he ventured past the threshold, the halls began to smell of rainfall, then of blooming lilacs. The stones surrounding him seemed to radiate a comforting warmth, like sunlight, which somehow grew more intense as he went deeper and deeper underground. He felt compelled to trace his fingers along the walls- they felt plush, inviting, homey even, despite the rough texture and caked-on filth he recalled them having all the times he had touched them before. The longer he walked, the less attention he managed to pay to the twists and turns the hallways took. His body simply followed where his feet fell, his head too wrapped up in vivid perceptions of joy to direct them. He knew he was deeper in the catacombs than he had ever gone- He should have been nervous, or at least alert to his surroundings, but he could not ignore the uncanny sensations of drinking hot chocolate after playing outside all day in the snow...

Of having a friendly stray cat come up to you, and it inviting you to pet it...

Of climbing into freshly laundered sheets, then drifting right off to sleep....

Of getting to finally hold hands with the person you've liked for ages, and then leaning in for a kiss...

Of the scent of his mothers perfume as she wrapped her arms around him, greeting him as he entered the front door of his childhood home...

Of finally finding that thing you've desperately been searching for, after what seems like forever.

It was there. It was there. In the bowels of the temple, it was there:

A being of nearly indescribable horror, huge and alien and ever-morphing, its nearly-infinite limbs sprawled lazily across the ancient brick and dangling from the vertigo-inducing ceiling above. Its many eyes swiveled to the archway where Sal now found himself standing, shocked at the sight but far from afraid- at this point his brain may as well have been pickled in a cocktail of nostalgia and wine, so 'fear' was nearly incomprehensible to him.

"Oh, it is here! At last, it has found us!"

Despite its many mouths, the thing did not speak with them, though the tips of its tentacles seemed to twiddle with delight as it somehow communicated with him.

"We have been calling, and it heard, and it came! We are so pleased, so very pleased~"

"Um... I..."

Sal blinked. He shook his head lightly in an attempt to clear it.

"I.... What... are you?," Sal finally managed to ask through his stupor.

"We are us."

"Huh...?"

"We are US!

"Okay, but what are you...?"

"We are us, as you are you! We have always been this way, though we have not always been as we are now."

"Yeah, that's... kind of how it works. That doesn't answer my question, though."

"...Oh, we are sorry- It is difficult for us to explain this to Sal... We cannot find the words within its flesh for this concept, despite how superior we find it to be."

"Why can I never get a simple answer for this stuff... wait," he took a half-step back. It felt (and smelled) like he was walking through pudding. He tried to ignore the feeling of it being spooned into his mouth.

"You think my flesh is 'superior'? Are you planning on eating me?" He couldn't believe the phantom scent of vanilla was still making him salivate after asking it that question.

"Us consume Sal? No, no! We do not desire this. That would be 'uncool'! 'Totally lame, dude'! To use its flesh as mere sustenance would displease us greatly. Such a waste! Besides, we are already more than adequately fed by the other flesh in this place, so we have no need of Sals in this way. It does not need to fear us."

He tried not to think about what exactly the thing meant by 'adequately fed by other flesh'. It was pretty easy, given that he was currently experiencing the moment when the final bell rang on the last day of school before summer vacation.

"So then are you like... hitting on me?"

"Hmm... Oh, yes, yes! That is a fitting phrase. That is what we are doing with Sal- we are 'hitting on' it."

"Okaaay... but why? I'm so confused..." He was also somehow winning a level of a videogame he'd been struggling to beat for hours, minus the initial frustration. What was with these glitches...?

"We know it is confused. We will explain- We were here when we were no longer where we were. We did not choose this to be so. We decided we do not like this place, but other flesh has bound us here. We were made to stay. We were displeased by this. Very displeased! Very unsatisfied!! We were 'super bummed out,' as your flesh calls it. We had resigned to wait here until we were no longer here again, but then- It! We could feel It through the barriers!"

The towering thing began to sway, as if swooning (if such a thing could swoon).

"A unique organism, indeed, this 'Sally'! It is powerful and kind, and it can perceive much, very much, for the limitations all flesh has. We know because we have seen all that it has seen. We decided we like this flesh far more than the others- Far, far more! It is remarkable! Superb! We are drawn to it so! We desired to be within its presence greatly. That is why we have brought Sally here: so that desire would be so, and now, it is!"

He attempted to process the creatures story through the feeling of having half a dozen satisfying sneezes in a row.

"So you... you were brought here by force, and you were unhappy. Then you sensed me outside the temple, and you thought I was... hot? Or something? So you somehow lured me down here... For what, a date? In the death maze?"

"Yes, yes! A 'date'! This is a most optimal word for our desires, thank you. We are sorry it is not an ideal 'date'. We know Sal does not like this place, just as we do not like it. But we cannot leave, so we made it so Sal could like it. We did this so that perhaps..."

It seemed to hesitate, its limbs curling a bit toward the center (or what Sal assumed was the center) of the creature. Its eyes looked to the corners of the room, avoiding his. He would have thought it looked bashful, had it not been so hugely intimidating and grotesque.

"So that perhaps Sal would like us in turn, despite where we are now. We want Sal to find us as remarkable as we find it. We want it to take pleasure in our company, as we are making it experience now. We wish to continue this! We desire that Sal might desire us, as we desire it..."

It paused momentarily.

"...Is this strange? We have not experienced this desire before, so we do not know..."

"Wow... so I'm your first crush? I'm kind of flattered-"

"'Crush'? No, no! We do not wish the flesh be flattened! Far from it! Oh, we would be most displeased at that.... Maybe we did not explain our desire for Sals pleasure thoroughly enough to it? We can demonstrate further, if it wishes! We would be pleased to do so. It is so easy with Sal!"

The thing did not touch him, but fingers were running through his hair. A hand rested on his waist, then slid down to his hip. Something soft grazed the shell of his ear. He sucked in a breath when a tongue ran across his collar bone. He could feel himself flush. How was this thing doing all this?

"That's ah-," he stammered, 'No, I get it. But that kind of stuff is usually a third date thing, so lets um... hold off, for now? What you were doing before was fine,"

He considered his words.

"Well, If I'm being totally honest, it all felt... pretty fucking great."

"Oh, we know it felt 'pretty fucking great'! We selected its neurons to stimulate very carefully, very specifically. Sal is feeling exactly what we desired for it to feel! It need not tell us it feels pleasure, though it does please us even more for Sal to vocalize that it is pleased. We wish to experience this more! Much more!"

"Like I said, third date stuff."

"We understand- As it wishes, we will ‘hold off’ on ‘third date stuff’ with Sal. Hmm... Does this mean Sal will return a second time, and then once more, because it desires to?"

"You're not going to stop me from leaving?"

"No... We know it likes to be 'home'. It has 'friends' and 'dad' and ‘gizmo' and 'video game' and 'cartoon' and ‘guitar’ there.... Sal would be displeased without these things. We could make it pleased without them, but... We know what it is to be made to stay where it does not wish to be. We do not desire to make it feel this. We wish for Sal to come here willingly, because it desires to be in our presence, and wants to allow us to please it. Will it do this? Will it return to this place for more 'dates'?"

All of its eyes were back on him. Its core bowed forward, as if leaning in to hear his answer, though he was pretty certain it could hear his thoughts before he spoke them. He mulled over the situation- the cult was obviously planning to use this thing for something. It could manipulate the nervous systems of humans from almost a mile away, maybe further, if it didn't have magic limiting its reach. With that sort of ability, it could eventually take over the county, maybe the entire planet, if it or the cult wanted to. Yet, the thing had reached out to him out of loneliness, and used its power to chemically induce more pleasure in him than he thought he was physically possible at one time. If what it had made him experience tonight was just the tip of the ice burg, as it had implied, then he didn't really see much of a drawback to keeping it company- staying on its good side had a lot of advantages, and it seemed nice enough... plus, he really wanted to be able to get some much-needed sleep again.

"We see, we see- Sal will return to this place after it rests! It feels favorable to this arrangement, and to us! Oh, we are so pleased! The most pleased we have been in eons~," 

The thing was once again flicking the ends of its limbs and swaying back and forth- Sal guessed it was an eldritch monsters equivalent to a happy dance. It was almost cute.

"Heh... yeah, what you said. I'll come back to hang out with you tomorrow, okay? How does that sound?"

"Yes, yes! That sounds most ‘okay’! It is a 'date'- a second ‘date’ with Sal! Oh, we are so pleased! So very, very, very pleased...~" 💘💘💘

[quazartranslates]

Welcome to the Nightmare Game II - CH62

**This is an edited machine translation. For more information, please [click here]**

[<<< Previous Chapter | Table of Contents | Next Chapter >>>]

-----

Chapter 62: The Queen’s Inheritance (I)

"Here, this is the ancient lake." A guide brought the two men to a huge underground lake and said, "The buildings near here were built during the first generation of Dragon Ant Queens, and by now most of them have become damaged and collapsed. It’s said that most of them were in the architectural styles of the demon world. Later, with the entry of human beings, some later Dragon Ant Queens were of human origins, and the style gradually moved closer to that of the human world."

Qi Leren and Ning Zhou stood in front of the ruins of ancient buildings, watching the vast underground lake ahead. The rich water vapor formed a dense fog that hovered over the underground lake. With a burst of wind coming from underground caves, the fog was blown away only to reform.

The wonderful thing was that there were a lot of fluorescent plankton floating in the lake, which were a deep fluorescent blue amidst the smokey fog. This huge underground lake was like a night sky with thin clouds, with bright stars in its vast expanse.

"The scenery here is good, yet it seems that there aren’t many people?" Qi Leren asked.

The guide mused: "In the early years, there were still people living here, but I don't know when it started: there were frequent violent conflicts here, and the chaos was even worse than that in the lower city. With the water monster incident, the residents who were here moved."

"Water monster?" Qi Leren looked back at the fluorescent underground lake again. "Is there a water monster in it?"

"Yes, there was a monster attack on the nearby residents, which caused thousands of deaths. It alarmed the Dragon Ant Queen, and she then ordered for all of them to be relocated," the guide said.

Qi Leren whispered to Ning Zhou, "What does a water monster look like?"

Ning Zhou thought about it: "A strange shape."

This is equal to saying nothing. Qi Leren blinked in confusion. On second thought, the monster was also a kind of monster. Of course, there were all kinds of monsters, some of which were serious and some of which were casual.

"Is this monster a devil? Or a demon?" Qi Leren asked again.

Although devils and demons had similar names, there were obvious differences. There were many races with rational minds and human features among devils, but no matter how powerful demons were, their bodies were obviously non-human, and they had no rational and normal cognitive ability.

The guide shook his head and said, "We don't know. The monster appeared once and then disappeared. Maybe the Dragon Ant Queen took the shot to clean it up."

"Then there would be no need to move," Ning Zhou hit the nail on the head.

"That’s also true." The guide smiled bitterly. "We aren’t qualified to know the inside story of this confidential matter."

"Where did Mrs Kathleen say she saw the person she thought was Ashley?" Qi Leren asked.

"In the area over here, please come with me." The guide pointed to a palace-style building complex that had been submerged by the lake, and walked there with the two people.

There was almost no light source from the sun in the Underground Ant City, but the creatures here naturally developed methods to see. Both humans and demons would eat foods that enhanced night vision. In addition, there were fluorescent fungi and vegetation everywhere, and the demand for light here had dropped dramatically over time. If you suddenly returned to the surface, it would be difficult to adapt because of the strong light.

After Qi Leren broke his shell, his eyesight had improved a lot. Along with eating the food suggested by Celia, walking in the dim underground world didn't hinder him now, but occasionally he would stumble on the uneven ground because of carelessness. After all, there wasn’t very good infrastructure in the Nightmare World, and few places had flat cement or asphalt roads except the Twilight Township.

Ning Zhou walked half a step slower than him, which proved to be very important, because when Qi Leren stumbled, he reacted very quickly to catch him with one hand.

He wouldn't say "I'll carry you", but in fact he did.

When the guide looked back and was about to speak, his open mouth got stuck in his face when he saw the hands being held between the two men, and his voice became a cough.

Ning Zhou deadpanned, as if two men walking hand in hand was a matter of course. Qi Leren pretended to look at the scenery: "The scenery here is really good. It would be nice to walk around nearby when we have time."

Ning Zhou also responded to him: "Hmm."

The guide doesn't quite understand what was worth going on a date for in a place where there were water monsters and people often went missing and were killed... He would want to leave, but he strongly wore an awkward but polite smile: "Yes, but pay attention to safety."

Qi Leren had discovered that Ning Zhou was very shy in some aspects, but very "calm" in other aspects. For example, if he thought that two people who were engaged could hold hands, he wouldn’t care about the situation or feel embarrassed to be seen.

But by the same token, he decided that what he couldn't do before getting married was impossible without getting married.

Qi Leren, like an infatuated teenager, was stirring under the influence of hormones. At the same time, he felt that he was a dirty adult compared to the pure Ning Zhou. He had just fallen in love and he had already begun to think about their sex life.

At this moment, Qi Leren was very optimistic and confident that he should be able to push Ning Zhou down. After all, Ning Zhou was so pure, how could he be the more dominant one? But he couldn't be in such a hurry. It wasn’t good to intimidate Ning Zhou. He should start teaching at the primary level. For example, he should find a chance to teach him how to kiss at the right time, in the right place, and with the right atmosphere.

A little excited inside, a little expectant, and a little shy, Qi Leren couldn't help but show an excessively happy smile.

Guide: I don't know why, but I feel like an eyesore, so I should hurry away…

After taking them to their destination, the guide left for his other tasks, leaving only Qi Leren and Ning Zhou walking slowly in the ruins of this palace.

The surrounding buildings had indeed been seriously damaged, but they can vaguely see the distinctive style. For example, there were only a few rows of scattered columns left in this building that were similar to a Greek temple. The height of the complete columns was more than 40 meters, which was already magnificent from a distance. When you looked closer, it would take seven or eight people to hug each column. Standing under the column and looking up, this amazing height was awe-inspiring. Because the foundation had fallen and the lake’s water had risen, the temple had become tilted altogether. The north half had been submerged in the lake and only showed slightly above the water, while the south part had not been swallowed up by the lake water at all.

"The buildings in the underworld are usually much taller than those in the human world," Ning Zhou said.

"Why?" Qi Leren asked.

Ning Zhou looked at the rows of neat but damaged columns in front and said slowly, "Because many demons don't like to maintain human form."

Qi Leren immediately thought of the huge black dragon in the lake of fire. With its size, it could only move in such a huge building. He didn't know if the dragon-shaped devils had some special hobbies, such as collecting gold coins and treasures…

"There are traces of fighting here." Ning Zhou's voice awakened Qi Leren who was still sleepwalking.

Qi Leren quickly recovered and observed it carefully. The damage caused by natural collapse was different from that caused by fighting. Qi Leren was inexperienced, but Ning Zhou could see it at a glance and even recover some details of the battle in his mind. For example, the column in front of him was broken by fighting, and the blood at his foot was left by severe scratches when the person was hit and flew to the ground.

"They were two masters, at least one was injured," Ning Zhou said.

"In my impression, although Mrs Kathleen's subordinate had the seed of slaughter, his strength was average," Qi Leren recalled.

"Someone’s here!" Ning Zhou pulled Qi Leren behind the column.

Both of them were silent, regulating their breathing and heartbeats.

In the distance, there came a group of people's slight footsteps, the sound of cloth dragging on the ground, and even light.

A mysterious group passed through the hall, carrying bone lamps in their hands, and wearing heavy long cloaks with hoods covering their faces. This group of people, with their heads down, recited words like spells in a low voice, and when he listened attentively, he could tell they were hypnotized.

Qi Leren gave himself a quick pinch, and Ning Zhou looked at him with concern. Qi Leren pointed to his lips and pointed to the mysterious cloaked figures, beckoning to be careful of their spells. Seeing that Ning Zhou wasn’t affected, Qi Leren was a little reassured.

The front row of the group consisted of cloaks carrying bone lamps, but the rear was a group of ragged human beings. Their eyes were closed, and everyone's face showed a look of intoxication and a trance-like state, with strange smiles. Like a group of docile sheep, they walked forward under the guidance of the cloaks.

Qi Leren felt bad at once. What were these cloaked people doing?

Ning Zhou suddenly felt something, and his eyes stared straight at one of the people moving forward. The man looked as unarmed and smiling as the people around him, but when Ning Zhou looked at him, he also turned his head, grinned at him with great interest, and then continued walking before the cloaked people found out.

There was no road ahead, and the northern part of this temple had been submerged in the underground lake. If they went further, there would be only the lake water filled with fluorescent algae. However, as if they could not see the road, these people walked towards the lake with their bone lamps and vague spells.

As they approached, the fluorescence on the lake became more and more bright. At once, the stars converged into a dazzling blue, which made people’s eyesight white out!

A wonderful voice sounded in the light, and it was difficult to describe whether it was a song or a spell. It was like a devout prayer of the devout and a desperate cry of the dying, which made Qi Leren shiver all over. In the void, there seemed to be a huge eyeball watching everyone in this land, including the two people hiding behind the column.

Qi Leren's eyes widened, his heart thumped, and his whole body seemed to be petrified under the spell.

Under this strange sound, this group of mysterious cloaked people walked into the blue light, and were quickly swallowed by the light.

The blue light gradually went out, and the fluorescent plants on the lake faded again, but the cloaked and human figures could no longer be seen in the temple. Everything was silent, absurd, and terrifying.

"What was that...?" Qi Leren woke up from the fear of being shocked just now and leaned in Ning Zhou’s direction.

"A cult sacrifice." Ning Zhou was more experienced than he was, so it wasn’t difficult to see what this group of people were going to do. He was more concerned about the person who had smiled at him from the crowd just now. That person had obviously noticed the two people hiding behind the column, but didn’t expose their existence. And he himself, for whatever reason, seemed to be playing the role of cult sacrifice.

"Where did they go?" Qi Leren asked again.

"They should have entered a fixed half-field. You remember that the members of the Slaughter Secret Society entered a half-field enchantment like this for secret ceremonies," Ning Zhou said.

Qi Leren suddenly realized that a similar situation had happened with the Slaughter Secret Society before, but this group of people were even more bizarre. He didn't know what they were.

"Which devil are these people going to sacrifice to?" Qi Leren asked.

"Not sure." Ning Zhou shook his head.

There were too many devils, and this was the Underground Ant City. Besides the worship of the Devil Kings, the worship of lower devils was also endless, and the situation was more complicated than any other place. However, the spells recited by this group of people were a little familiar, like a group of Utopia worshippers that Ning Zhou had once handled. That is, worshippers of the Lord of Power.

"Let’s hurry up and go back to Celia to see if there’s any way to get in. If we delay too long, this group of people will be in danger," Ning Zhou said.

-----

Editor’s Notes:

Ning Zhou: [taking his job very seriously]

Qi Leren: “Ning Zhou’s a bottom, right? He’s totally a bottom.”

Guide: “Please let me leave before you test your theory.”

-----

[<<< Previous Chapter | Table of Contents | Next Chapter >>>]

[mandoinevarro]

NO REFUNDS

Words: 5.1k :))

Rating: E, baby

Warnings: Smut (surprise surprise), bad words :0, masturbation, a biiiit of praise kink, face fucking, cumplay? let me know on the comments, etc. etc. 

a/n: Happy Star Wars day!! The first few lines of this are an attempt at dumb comedy, but humor me a little and you’ll get a reward (smut) along the yellow-brick road

Finally, the lanky kid behind the counter stops air drumming with two chicken bones gnawed dry and trails his dopey eyes from the gloved fist on the table, up a bracer, and along a flexed arm, until they settle on the Mandalorian helmet staring him down and waiting for an answer. The employee removes the music bandeau from around his ears and settles it down, its noise so loud Mando can hear it from where it lays. The kid scratches the whiskers of facial hair growing patchy on his cheeks and thoughtfully nibbles on one of the bones, trying to figure out what one does when a client shows up.

“Uh, what?”

“I need to speak to the owner,” the Mandalorian repeats slowly.

“Oh, uh.” Mouth gaping like a fish too stupid to know it should fear hooks, the kid calmly turns his attention to the four walls of the hardware store, searching for guidance in the fluorescent signs hanging around the room and dictating the store’s rules like they’re ancient scriptures:

NO CHILDREN

WILL BUY STOLEN GOODS FOR LOWER PRICE

NO IMPS

NO REPUBLIC OFFICIALS

NO REFUNDS

NO APPOINTMENT, NO MEETING

“You, uh,” the kid continues, lingering on that last stanza and flicking open a dusty agenda that probably hasn’t been touched since the war ended, “you got an appointment, uh, sir?” He drags a greasy finger down the planner, squinting at nothing and pretending to read the page that Mando can clearly see is empty.

The bounty hunter sighs, holding on to the last reserves of patience that hang precariously on the cliff of his self-restraint, threatening to let go and leave him to his own anger. “No. But she’ll see me.” You better. You better fucking see him. “I was sold equipment here a few days ago, some of it faulty. I need to speak to her.”

The navigator. The fucking navigator. Of all the bunch of overpriced, black market scraps you’d somehow convinced the Mandalorian to buy from you last time, it just had to be the navigator. He still has his old blasters. Pumps are cheap. Even the deflector shields he could’ve done without for a couple of months. But the fucking navigator. The lack of droids on the Crest means that Mando relies solely on the navigator to set coordinates. Without it, he wouldn’t be able to find his way out of a system, let alone make hyperjumps. Even worse, the model is so old, its glitching isn’t recognized by the control panel, so he had to hover around the atmosphere of this damned planet for three days before figuring out what it was, throwing off his schedule and losing track of two bounties in the process. All because you sold him a damaged version of the one part he can’t do without.

But your gaping-mouthed kid worker seems too unused to visitors to really care about Mando’s request, too entertained nibbling on a bare bone and eyeing the costumer in front of him as a knowing smirk cracks his lips and he says, “I dig it.”

“You…you ‘dig it’? I don’t…”

“The whole, y’know.” He draws circles in the air with the bone, signaling the beskar armor while he wipes the sauce around his mouth with a sleeve. “The, uh, Mondolarian vibe you’ve got going on. Very retro, dude. I dig it.”  

Mondo…? Bewilderment overshadows irritation for a second, and Mando focuses all his energy into searching the kid’s vacant eyes for a sign of intelligent life. “I…I am a Mandalorian.”

Fucking stars above, it’s never easy with you. If not your endless teasing, it’s the exorbitant prices, your unwillingness to compromise, or your scurrying around so he’s forced to play cat and mouse with you. Your latest impossible challenge for him to tackle is, apparently, getting a straight answer from the obtuse employee you must have handpicked from a catalogue of idiots to torture Mando. Maker, he’s surprised your store hasn’t gone bankrupt yet. He can’t imagine anyone else in the galaxy putting up with your whims. And he only does it because…well, because…

After dedicating a couple of seconds to crafting the perfect response for what appears to be his very first client, the kid muses, “Well, shit, what do I know.” He flashes a toothy smile as he rereads the dogmas on the walls. “Says nothing about Mondolarians here, but, uh—”  

“—Look,” Mando bargains with your gatekeeper, trying to level the exasperation escaping the vocoder, “I only have one faulty part. Let me talk to the owner, and—”

“—Shit. I bet it was the microvalves.” Your staff of one hangs his tuff of hair in shame, swaying it limply from side to side, before staring straight at the visor apologetically. “My bad, dude, I’ve been trying to get them right, but I always fuck them up. It’s hard, y’know? Red with red, white with white. Why not red with white? Or—”

“—No. What? No. Listen to me. You sold me a busted—”

“—I sold you?” the kid scoffs, his eyes suddenly snapping wide and offended, ignoring Mando’s clenching fists, which usually make normal people cower. “Excuse me, mister Mondolarian sir, but I don’t, uh, don’t recall selling you shit, in fact—”

“—Not—not you personally, the store, look, just—”

“—in fact, I’ve never even met a Mondolarian before and you’ve, uh, no right—no right— to judge my microvalves that I worked hard on—”

“Let him in.” Your voice carries its usual amusement as it cuts between the Mandalorian and the kid, breaking off the bickering from both ends and drawing their attention to the melody’s source. You lean on the doorframe leading to your workshop, holding a pair of pliers in one hand and a wrench in the other. Grease is smeared on your face, where teeth bite down on a playful smirk and the twinkle in your eyes speaks of terrible intentions—like always. You tilt your head back to the room behind you. “C’mon, Mando. Let my receptionist work.”

With a sigh, the hunter moves towards the separate room, not before glancing back at the receptionist, who throws him one last disapproving look and wraps the bandeau that never stopped blasting music around his ears.

“Why do you keep him here?” the Mandalorian grunts as you push yourself off the doorframe to move inside your studio.

You shrug. “It’s him or droids.”  

Mando trails after you inside the cramped workshop, filled to the brim with piles and piles of sensors and motors and all the other scraps from dubious origins you collect, fix, and resell. He closes the door behind him and pushes a large tube hanging from the roof to the side to walk closer to you.

Facing him, you plummet on your wheeled chair with a sigh, your arms dangling off the armrests, still holding the wrench and the pliers, like you’re the monarch of your little kingdom of junk granting him an audience.

There, Mando finally gets a good look at you, and—much to his annoyance—you’re as lovely as always. Glistening and greasy, you’re still beautiful with oil stains on your skin and fat droplets of sweat trailing your temple. You beam at him from your squeaky throne with that faint grin that attracts nothing but trouble. Maker, no wonder you always manage to talk circles around him. But not this time. This time he won’t fall for your little games. He won’t, he won’t, he won’t. Tonight he’s walking out of here with all of his money, no matter how much you bat your pretty eyelashes at him.

The Mandalorian squares his stance and straightens his back in a futile attempt to intimidate you, strutting ahead firmly and pointing an accusing finger at your face.

“You sold me a—”

“—a busted navigator.”  You roll your eyes and push yourself to your legs abruptly before the hunter can get any closer. He stops dead on his tracks. You wave the wrench and the pliers in the air like the conductor of an orchestra. “I sold you a busted navigator.” The vowels are dragged out with an exaggerated tune to make fun of him. “Yeah, I heard you the first four thousand times, Mando.”

Without looking, you drop the pliers to the side. They land dead center on an open storage box. Perfectly. Almost rehearsed. Something clicks. The Mandalorian suddenly finds the missing piece of a puzzle he didn’t know needed solving, and he feels his shoulders deflate and release some of the anger that drove him to your store in the first place.

You peacock closer to him, one foot in front of the other and swaying your hips as you look down to the wrench in your hand. “But, you should know by now,” you murmur once you find yourself only inches away from the beskar, your voice morphing its earlier mock exasperation into the tone you only use whenever you two aren’t talking business. You look up at him, failing miserably at masking the mischief in your eyes. “I don’t do refunds.” You lift the wrench and grin as it taps the beskar breastplate lightly with a tink.

And before you can blink, Mando’s hand flies to your wrist to clutch it roughly, squeezing without hurting you, but with enough strength to force your fist open. Just like he knows you like it. The wrench falls to the floor with a bang that makes you jump. It’s Mando’s turn to smile when he pulls you by the wrist to press you closer against him. The cocky glint in your eyes dulls into confusion.

“I never said it was the navigator,” he informs you lowly.

You tense under his grasp and shift your jaw. “You knew I’d come back,” he continues, encouraged by your grimace. Staring at your feet, you half-heartedly try to wriggle away from his grasp, but he grabs your other wrist instead and holds you flush against the cold beskar. “Okay. I’m back. Now give me my money.”

But his satisfaction is short-lived, because if there’s anyone in the universe who knows no shame, that’s you. So you simply bite your lower lip and move your head from side to side to shake hair and embarrassment off your face. When you look up at the visor again it’s with that brazen insolence that secretly gets the Mandalorian going like nothing else in the galaxy.

“A girl gets lonely in here,” you purr. Your wrists relax, and make no attempt to pull away. “Can you blame me for wanting you back a little earlier?” Your plush lips curl into the perverse smile of someone who’s holding all the cards, making heat rush involuntarily to his crotch. And it drives him fucking insane. He could have you tied, shackled, or bent over, and you would still sneer at him like you had him wrapped around your finger.

At his silence, you wedge a leg tightly between his thighs and massage it against the bulge between. Your gasp in fake surprise when his length hardens at the first hint of a brush, too unused to any sort of physical contact to remain neutral to your bold caresses. He bites down hard on his lip to suppress a moan. He won’t give you the satisfaction.

Mando’s learnt, though, that his restraint only feeds your audacity. Only makes you taunt him more. His lack of response spurs you on, and you crane your neck forward to lick a slow line along the beskar of the chest. You blink at him playfully as you go, stuffing your tongue back into your mouth once you reach the top edge of the breastplate.

You must find it funny. How his ribs expand and contract in anticipation. How he tends to roll and unroll his fists in an attempt to suppress the instinct to throw you on top of the table so crowded by clutter that he can barely see the surface beneath and fuck the smirks off your face. How he always gives in. How he stiffens both scandalized and impossibly aroused every time you introduce him to some newer, filthier act. You must think it’s so fucking funny.

And as much as the bounty hunter wants to shove you back against your crumbling wheeled chair, he knows you’ll only enjoy it more. So he simply lets go of your wrists and steps back.

“I’m only here for my money,” he lies.

The vicious grin grows wider. “Oh, so you’re making me work for it tonight.” You step back and lean against a table with your arms crossed over your chest, purposefully pushing your tits against the cleavage. Mando shifts in his place. Licking your lips until they glisten, you give him a once-over. You study him inch by inch, and an uncomfortable rope knots in his stomach when he realizes that this is how his bounties must feel when he watches them wordlessly.

Your eyes settle on his visor, and a decision seems to cross them as you walk over to sit on your creaking chair. “Or maybe you just want to hear me beg.” You part your legs wide and clutch the armrest with one hand while the other disappears under the waist of your pants. The contour of your hand shifts up and down slowly inside the crotch of your trousers, and your lips crook into a full O as they release a deep, foul moan. “Is that it?” Your eyes are glossy and malignant, trained on his visor. “You want me to beg for your cock?”

His leather gloves ball into fists, trying to coax blood into his head and away from his…well, his other head.

Yet you hold him in place with that sinful stare and the lewd whimpers that you know get him off, and yes, fuck yes, he wants to hear you beg and sob for him all night as much as he wants to clog your throat with his shaft and make you swallow your teasing.

But he can’t let you win. You can’t scam five thousand credits out of him and expect him to throw himself into your arms no questions asked. He wants to put an end to your little tyrannical rule on his cock. And he wants his fucking money back.

So the powerful Mandalorian watches helplessly as your hand quickens under your clothing and you throw your head back in ecstasy. That fucking smirk doesn’t leave you, though. Even less so when your palm picks up some speed and you hear his breath hitch involuntarily at the visual, loud enough to override the vocoder.

“C-come on, Mando, don’t—” Your hand sinks deeper into your pants and you hum at the adjustment. “Don’t you wanna teach me what—what proper cos-costumer service looks like? Huh?”

His cock jumps in his pants when you say his name in a wanton gasp, and Mando can see you’re sweating and moving your hips faster against your palm. He’s so hard it hurts.

Your smile falters and you frown impatiently as the pent-up tension threatens to snap in your body.

“Don’t cum,” Mando blurts before he can stop himself.

“Or what?”

“Or I won’t give you what you want.”

Your movements halt on command, and the hunter almost envies the control you have over your own body to be able to backtrack on the very edge of your release. You hold your hands up in triumphant surrender as you watch the Mandalorian approach and stop just a breath away from your body. He stands tall before you, crowding you with his size and turning down the volume on the nagging voice that reminds him that he’s letting you win.

Eyes on the prize ahead of you, you lick your lips and snake a hand beneath your sit. You pull a lever and the chair plummets a few inches until your mouth is directly in front of the rigid tent growing in his pants. Expert fingers undo his belt and lower his fly, but, stars, nothing is fast enough when Mando already feels the veins of his cock growing thicker and thicker. Skipping all formalities, your hand sneaks inside, cups his balls, and pulls all of him outside. He groans when you grab his shaft and squeeze hard from base to tip, your bare palm catching awkwardly on his equally dry skin. Mando melts into the sensation all the same, but you seem displeased with your palm’s lack of fluidity.

“Fuck. Hold on.” A pair of fingers disappear into your mouth and down your throat as far as they’ll go. You choke on them dramatically and your eyes water slightly, but they shine when the two small intruders drag outside your mouth, pulling a thick string of elastic spit with them and dropping it on his shaft, pulsing with anticipation. You lean forward and look up through your lashes as you unroll your tongue slowly and more gooey saliva dangles from it. It’s too dense to spill onto its target, so you pluck the heavy ropes from your mouth and smear it manually on his cock, while a thread of it hangs on your chin.

“Fuck.” Your tiny clenched fist wakes up every nerve in his body as it drags up and down his shaft, obscene and perfectly lubricated. Mando’s hips buck into its grasp involuntarily, so suddenly that you flinch at the unexpected jolt. It’s a small comfort for him, to see that he can also surprise you. But then you’re giggling again, locking him in place by grabbing the buck of his belt with your free hand.

“Eager,” you remark. You lean forward and place a chaste kiss on the tip that digs into his spine. Maker, it was barely anything, but he’s so hard and your mouth is so close. “Aren’t Mandalorians,” you tease, “supposed to have self-restraint?”

Mando’s only answer is a low groan and a gloved hand that tangles on your hair and pushes you forward. You resist, though, instead wrapping a fist around his base and dragging your hot tongue up his underside, stopping just before the tip. A tortured whimper echoes around the helmet, and the Mandalorian is not sure if you could hear it because his muscles pull tighter, drawing his attention to his cock and your mouth and the fact that the latter is not wrapped around him for some reason. As if you could read his mind, you suddenly engulf him whole. Spit gathers on the edge of your lips as you suck on his length, swallowing around the tip and swirling your tongue around his girth.

“Fuck, you’re so—so fucking g-good at this.” You hum in response, sending vibrations through his shaft that make his knees buckle. He always forgets how good it feels with you. He forgets that you take him perfectly like all your holes were made for him to fuck. That you make his blood run hot with every swing of your tongue and every spasm of your cunt and every insolent remark that escapes your lovely mouth, now busy pleasuring him.

You settle on his head and suck on the bulb, hollowing your cheeks to let him feel the delicious inside of your mouth. Mando grabs handfuls of your hair with both hands, still trying to extinguish little whimpers before they leave his throat. And you can tell. He knows you can tell because determination clouds your eyes as you yank him closer by the belt. You drag your tongue in a circle around the ridge of the head, before dipping into the slit on the tip and finally earning a punched out groan and some beads of precum as a reward. Somehow, you moan and chuckle at the same time, opening your mouth as strings of spit fall to the floor.

“You’re hard, Mando,” you coo, pumping his length while you rub it on the side of your face, “throbbing and so, so hard. You should’ve come to me sooner, baby. You’re desperate.” You suck on the head again, and the Mandalorian’s grip on your hair turns to steel, pulling you into him and no longer asking. Moaning, you let him, taking him as far as you can and wrapping a fist where you can’t reach. Your other hand releases his belt and snakes down to your lap, fumbling with the waistband of your pants.

Somewhere in the swamp of sensations drowning his thoughts, an idea flashes in Mando’s head, and he holds on to it before you can suck it out of his tip. One glove lets go of your hair and quickly grans the hand lowering into your heat to resume touching yourself. His cock still in your mouth, you look up at him with furrowed eyebrows and a silent question.

“You can’t c-cum,” he explains, forcing words out of a throat that right now only wants to moan, “un-until you give me my—my refund.”

You groan and roll your eyes, taking your mouth off him with a pop. “Fuck no,” you breathe as you pump him faster and harder, almost making Mando lose his resolve. Almost. His hold on your wrist tightens. “It’s store policy.”

“Y-yeah?” You continue sliding your fist along his shaft, as you lean forward and lower your face to start lightly licking his balls. The room spins around Mando, and his grip on your hair pushes you into him until you suck on one ball gently. “Is—is it store p-policy to—ngh—to f-fuck your clients?”

You chuckle against his taint. Your head straightens to set your attention back on his tip, where he’s leaking an almost embarrassing amount of precum. A thumb brushes over his slit, gathering the pearls and bringing them into your mouth to taste him. The way you rub your core slightly against the chair is sneaky enough, but the Mandalorian catches the movements and tugs your hand and hair tighter as a warning. Your shoulders slump.  “I’ll give you half,” you offer.

Mando guides your hand lower and curls it around his swollen cock, silently begging for your attention. His hand wraps over yours as he squeezes your fist and drags it along his shaft at a pace of his liking that sets his insides ablaze. “Eighty.” The helmet falls back as he revels in the wet sounds of your hand sliding back and forth his cock and giving him a nice enough memory for when he inevitably goes back to the Crest and is forced to take care of his needs himself.

You let him guide you, cupping his balls with your other hand and swirling your tongue around his darkening tip. Mando’s chest trembles with a long moan at the toe-curling feeling of your warm spit and your clenched fist working so hard for him, until you drop him from your mouth and answer, “Seventy.”

“N-no, I—”

“—Seventy,” you repeat and twist your hand away from his grasp, leaving his seeping cock throbbing and abandoned, “or you don’t cum.”

Fuck, he was close. He was so fucking close, before you turned the tables. Like fucking always. A part of him cradles his already bruised pride, shaming him for—yet again—not being able to hold it together around you. But his cock tugs harder. More insistently. It pulls every fiber in his body and screams at him to give you whatever the fuck you want.

“Fine.” He nods his head once, before his better sense can convince him otherwise. “Seventy.”

A full, beautiful smile that almost makes Mando forget he’s getting scammed graces your plump lips. You waste no time shoving your hand inside your underwear again and moving your arm frantically as you give him a couple of throaty whines. You open your mouth as wide as it’ll go and blink up at him, inviting him to take you however he so pleases. He tangles his fingers on your hair and shoves you against him as you wrap your lips around his cock and muffle your mewls on it.

The Mandalorian starts fucking your face, getting his money’s worth as he moves you back and forth. Your eyes water and you gag with every shove, but you work earnestly for him, hollowing your cheeks and moving your tongue and pulling just about every trick on your toolbox to make Mando’s eyes roll to the back of his head.

And stars, even through your pants and his helmet, he can still smell your arousal. He hears the wet squelching of your fingers working your pussy fast and if he could only get a look. One look is all he needs to cum, he’s sure, one fucking look at your clenching cunt and he’s done.

“F-fuck, l-let me see,” he pants, “let—let me s-see you—see your p-pussy cum, just—fuck—just a mo-moment, please, j-just…”

Tears from all the gagging fall out of your pretty eyes as you open your mouth and stand up, taking your trembling hand outside to fumble with your trousers. Your thumbs are hooked under their waistband and push down slightly before you suddenly stop and stare at the Mandalorian gulping all the oxygen he can get and waiting for you. “Sixty,” you say carefully.

Too intoxicated with you and too focused on the blood beating hard on his cock, Mando couldn’t care less. He doesn’t give a shit about percentages or money or parts or whatever half-forgotten excuse he had to come here tonight. All that matters and all that’s real is whatever he needs to climax, and if it means letting you win, so be it. “S-sixty. Yes. Whatever. Just—just take your fucking pants off.”

One swift movement and your pants and underwear pool around your ankles. Yanking hard on the hem, you manage to pull the right leg off your boot. You don’t bother with the other one, letting it hang on your left leg as you climb back on the chair, spreading your legs and hooking one thigh over the armrest to offer him the best view possible.

Mando’s cock threatens to spill at the sight. You’re fucking soaked. Your folds are blushed and slick and swollen with all the blood accumulated on your cunt. Three fingers rub your aching clit and everything around it with messy strokes, as you stare at the bounty hunter with raw lust and moan for him loud and clear, and this. This is worth the fucking navigator.

As soon as his shaft ghost over your face you lean into it and reach for him with your mouth. Mando takes your head between his hands and resumes his previous brutal pace, his eyesight now directed at the way your cunt spasms and seeps more juices with every circle you press against your lips. And, fuck, you’re taking him like you’re hungry for his cock. Pushing harder and further and faster despite the gagging, you’re making Mando see blotches cloud his vision and feel how his muscles turn into hot, thick magma. Fuck, fuck, fuck, he can’t hold it in anymore. His balls start pulling up as a warning and you’re sucking harder and mewling around him.

“I—I…I’m gonna—I—”

Mando can’t find enough words to put together for the life of him, but you nod and manage a chocked “Mhmm” and bob your head to the pace of your quickening fingers and stars oh fuck—

The wave of his climax hits him hard on his back and makes him curl around you. He braces himself against the top of your chair and the change in position makes his cock slip outside of your mouth, but his vision goes completely black and all he can feel is the rush of pleasure crushing his bones into dust. Maybe your name is falling from his lips, but he can’t be sure. The never-ending spurts of cum falling somewhere hoard most of his attention, and he focuses on that thick and heavy release, so rare for him that he puts his mind into savoring every second.

It’s not until the echoes around his ears dissipate that the Mandalorian hears you’re still whimpering. Hunched over you, he opens his eyes just in time to see you gather some of the seed that he spilled on your neck and bring it down to smear it over your bundle of nerves, rubbing it one, two, three, four times, before you’re sobbing long and loud. Your hole tightens around nothing, your forehead resting on his cuisse, and Mando thinks he could get hard again just from the image.

You both stay like that for a while, curled into each other and panting in turns, until Mando gathers all the energy left in his system to pull himself upright and shove his softening shaft back into his pants. It’s only then that he sees just how much of a mess he made: Cum landed everywhere. It hangs thick all over your face, on your neck, on your hair, on your clothes. He blushes darkly and he’s about to open his mouth to apologize, but you sense it. Somehow. You wink and brush off his shame with a smile and a wave of your hand, standing up to get dressed. But Mando’s quicker. He kneels in front of you and gently raises your underwear until it hugs your hips, wishing for a fleeting second he could press a kiss on the supple flesh there. You grab his pauldron for balance to sneak your foot into the pantleg that Mando holds open for you.

For once, it’s he who breaks the silence. “I…I do want my sixty percent, you know.”

“Of course.” You smile sweetly at him, reaching back to your work table to grab a clean rag, rubbing it against your face and neck. “I’ll even throw in some free microvalves for good measure.”

—

Taglist of two so you can keep each other company :) : @rosetophighlander​ @hellomothermoon

[philliamwrites]

The Dawn Will Come [Chpt.1]

Fandom: Fire Emblem Three Houses

Pairing: Dimitri x Reader, Claude x Reader, Edelgard x Reader, Yuri x Reader, Edelgard x Byleth, lots of minor pairings

Tags: #gn reader, # platonic love byleth & reader, #reader is a tactical unit, #angst, #slow burn, #subplots, #unreliable narrator, #pining, #remporary amnesia, #reluctant herp, #canon divergence, #lost twin au, #many chapters, #original content

Words: 5.2k

Summary: Waking up in a forest without any knowledge of your past and who you are, you join the house leaders of the Officers Academy to search for a way to return your memories. Unfortunately, the church has different plans for you, and Fate places you in the centre of a cruel game with deadly stakes. It certainly doesn't help to fall in love with a house leader who is doomed to be your demise.

Notes: Chapter 2 There’s also a playlist for this story that you can find here and here.

Chapter 01: A High Destiny

A high destiny seemed to bear me on until I fell, never, never again to rise.

[Mary W. Shelley, Frankenstein]

    It starts as it will end: in darkness.

    Black dots dance in front of your eyes, merging into dark shadows clawing at your consciousness. A dull throb pounds in your temple, a steady rhythm that speaks of life but isn’t enough to allow awareness of your surroundings. Memory is a foreign word you can’t explain, and trying to think of the past 24 hours is an unachievable task. Every glimpse slips through your fingers like sand, and the only steady reference point is the solid ground pressing into your hands and back.

    Slowly, you open your eyes. Treetops dance in the wind, towering above you like silent guardians of ancient times. The sun winks at you through thick branchesa and dancing green crowns, indicating it’s long past daybreak—but how do you know? Your memory is still a vast pool with no bottom and no means to dive into, and yet you think there’s a voice calling out to you, a heart-wrenching young, boyish voice—no, those are real voices ringing through the woods, appearing close to you. Alarmingly close.

    “You’re awake,” a woman’s voice starts, moments later followed by a corresponding face. Round, lavender eyes surrounded by thick, white lashes peak from above at you, blinking curiously. It’s an expression far from friendly, but not exactly hostile either, and of all the things you can think of at this moment, it is how strikingly beautiful she is. But before you can say anything, another person joins, leaning too close in for comfort.

    “You got us worried there, stranger,” a young man chimes in, squatting down beside you. His uniform isn’t exactly what you’d call fit for travelling through the woods. A heavy yellow cape falls over his shoulder, more fanciful display than practical use. But something in his posture seems very attentive, his broad shoulders taut like a drawn bowstring that won’t miss its target. “Weird place to take a nap, but hey, I’m not judging.”

    “I wasn’t—” you start, immediately struck by a throbbing pain behind your right eye that reverberates through your skull and wretches a groan from you.

    “Take it easy,” another voice joins, and panic spreads through you because of the amount of people surrounding you. Where the first man is a picture of warm colours—gold and sun kissed skin nourished on warm summer days, the other man observing you with a worried expression is clad in blue and black, blond hair falling into a pale face that carries the most striking blue eyes you’ve ever seen. Or so you think, because surely a colour like this, a blue stolen right out of the sky, wouldn’t be easily forgotten.

    More movement and rustling of fabric, and a chill settles in your bones as you begin to fear that you’ve run into a bunch of ruffians who’ve only kept you alive for so long because they’re hoping for valuable information. More people emerge from the underbrush, carrying large sacks and backpacks with billycans dangling at their sides. Among them, a tall man with a beard, clad in robust mercenary’s gear, steps forward, concealing another young woman with sharp features and unusual greenish blue hair.

    The sight of her strikes you like a bolt. It tastes like familiarity and the relief of being reunited with a long lost friend. But that is impossible. This is the first time you meet her.

    Is it?

    “You brats, I told you not to head off too far,” the older man bellows, crossing logs for arms in front of his broad chest. The first three take one big, polite step away from you, but don’t look apologetic at all.

    “I’m sorry for our hastiness, Captain Jeralt,” the girl says, her eyes darting from you still sitting on the ground to him towering in his full height above them. “But it seems we would have otherwise not found this person.”

    “This person who wasn’t really much conscious a couple of minutes ago,” the boy in yellow adds with a crooked grin. “How bad would it have been if someone else would have beaten us to it?”

    “No need to make me look like the bad guy,” Captain Jeralt interrupts with a raised hand before the boy in blue can join his friends' justifications. Instead, he turns to you and regards you with a scrutinising look.

    “What are you doing out here?” he demands. “Where’s your family? Friends?”

    “Uhm, they’re—” you start, but nothing comes to your mind. Not only that. You don’t know why you’re out here, where you are exactly … and basically anything that should come to you about your own person remains shrouded in darkness. “I don’t know.”

    Jeralt nods like that explains the very reason you’re still sitting on the ground like a misplaced cargo of cabbage. He kneads the nape of his neck, his face softening the tiniest bit. “And what’s your name?”

    Unable to hold his piercing eyes, you drop your gaze to the ground, curling your trembling fingers into the fabric of your wool jacket. “I, uh… don’t know.”

    If you thought you didn’t have their attention before, now their eyes are glued on your face in different levels of shock and disbelief.

    “A case of amnesia?” the blond male says, not quite managing to achieve the right balance between blatant curiosity and polite worry. “Does this mean you have nowhere to go? Don’tknow where to go?”

    “Goddess help you, Dimitri,” the other boy groans, running a hand through his short, brown hair. “Be any more tactless, will ya?”

    “He isn’t wrong,” the girl says, observing you like you’re a fascinating new specimen in her collection of strange things. “You need a place to stay. And help until your memories return.”

    If they return, you don’t dare to say because despite all things, hope still clings to you in the deepest corner of your heart, not allowing you to follow that train of thought and what it will mean for your future.

    “Then by all means, if you want to join,” Jeralt says, waving a dismissive hand in your direction. “I don’t think you kids accept a No, so I’m going to save my breath.” He turns around with a grunt. “Get them your horse, Byleth. We’re late as it is, and another night of Alois talking my ears off will make me do something I’ll regret.”

    The woman called Byleth keeps staring at you even as Jeralt walks past her and gives her shoulder a solid clap. You can’t say if she’s mute or just speechless because she’s filled with the same strange overflowing sensation like you: like a basin filling with water but unable to drain off. It appears you’re the same age, a couple of years older than the other three but still much younger than Jeralt, and yet the moment your eyes lock, it feels like there is something far older than any of you together passing between you. Something ancient.

    “Well, first off, on your feet, little one.” Strong hands curl around your elbows, hoisting you up in one swift movement. A wave of dizziness hits you like an unavoidable spell, and the pounding from before settles back behind your right eye.

    “Amazing, Claude,” the girl hisses, and quickly steps forward to steady you, pressing one hand against the small of your back where her strong fingers curl against the curve of your spine. Her other hand gently holds yours as she helps you regain your balance. “Excuse his manners. I promise not everyone from the Officers Academy behaves like a brute.”

    “The what now?” you ask, hit by another wave of dizziness that might originate more from the girl’s soft lavender fragrance rather than the world spinning around you.

    “The Officers Academy at Garreg Mach Monastery,” Dimitri provides this time. His posture is straight like an arrow, the stance of a soldier speaking to his officer. “That is where we attend as students and hence are going right now.”

    “And you want me to come with you?” you ask like you have the option to refuse and go somewhere else. Strangely, the thought of joining a group of armed knights and mercenaries doesn’t fill you with fear or anxiety. You’re about to tread into foreign waters, and yet your heart is calm like a still compass guiding you in the right direction.

    Claude clasps his hands behind his head like he’s got nothing to do with you feeling unwell at the moment. “Unless you have another place to be?”

    Luckily, your head does come clear and breathing becomes a little easier. You nod to the girl and she holds you a second longer before she nods back and lets go. “I guess not,” you mumble, looking at each one of them. Byleth still hasn’t moved. By now you can’t really tell if she’s looking at you or through you. Surely, she would have said something by now if she thought you were familiar, right?

    “Then it’s settled.” The girl nods solemnly, throwing her silky, white hair over her shoulder. “We welcome you in our company. Allow me to introduce myself. I am Edelgard von Hresvelg, heir to the Adrestian Empire.” Edelgard gives you a tight-lipped smile that quickly thins into a white line when the other two introduce themselves as Claude von Riegan, grandson of the Sovereign Duke of the Leicester Alliance and Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd, future king to the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus. None of these names ring a bell to you, but you nod, pretending to know exactly what they're talking about.

    “Okay, we need a name for you as well,” Claude proposes, tapping a slender finger against his chin. He has a strikingly sharp jaw that looks fit to cut stone. “Can’t have everyone call you stranger or little one now, can we?”

    “No,” you say. “Especially since we’re about the same height.”

    Claude laughs like you just told him the best joke he’s heard in years. “Soo, since we found you here … how about Glade? Or Woody?”

    “How about no,” you say with furrowed eyebrows.

    “Apologies.” Edeglard sighs and shakes her head, her expression a mix between disappointment and annoyance. “Claude isn’t much accustomed to the notion of consideration.”

    Claude rolls his eyes. “Then you come up with something, princess. Or is it impossible because you can’t take out the stick up your—”

    “Claude,” Dimitri half shrieks, his pale cheeks splotched with red dots. As he stumbles over his own words trying to apologise for Claude’s behaviour, Edelgard simply deadpans, “Bold words for someone in stabbing range.”

    The fourth in this round of strange people considers you with a blank expression, her steady gaze like a solid touch on your skin. Before a greater argument can break free between the students, Byleth says a name with a surety like she’s never said anything else in her life, and hearing it, this barely whispered word immediately lost to the wind, you just know it’s your name.

    “Yes, much better than what Claude proposed.” Dimitri nods, regaining his composure even though he’s still staring daggers at Claude. “It sounds more civilised as well.”

    “You didn’t even suggest anything,” Claude remarks, but the huff of annoyance quickly dissipates from his voice when he jerks a thumb towards Byleth. “That’s Byleth, by the way. Funny story is, we met her just a couple of hours ago as well.”

    “Fate must have brought us together here today,” Dimitri agrees with a solemn nod. “I swear on my honour as a noble knight from the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus that I will see you safe to the Monastery. Lady Rhea will surely be able to help you there.”

    “Okay. Thank you,” you manage, unable to connect a face to this name in your head that feels like it’s about to burst any second anyway. The only course of action lies within those strangers who are so willingly offering help that you can’t stop worrying it’s a ruse. But without anything to offer them except your life, there’s little coming to your mind that they can anticipate in taking you with them. Tthe fact that Byleth knew your name doesn’t sit right with you as well. There’s something waiting to be grasped at the tips of your fingers, and yet you lack the strength to embrace it.

    Following the little group of soldiers and students through the woods, you remain silent on the journey, only answering questions with approving or denying hums. How did you end up in this particular forest? According to Jeralt, you’re currently moving away from a village called Remire and towards the mountains to the northeast where the monastery lies tucked away between two mountains. Judging from the clothes you’re wearing, you’re a commoner, and when Edelgard pushed a slim dagger in your hand, nothing rung in intuitive knowledge about how to handle a weapon. Your mind remained silent, like an untouched chord.

    There’s little you can say about the first impression those people left on you. There seems to be a unanimous dispute between the three students, hanging palpable in the air whenever an argument starts that’s pregnant with implied insults or passive-aggressive comments. From that you gather there’s tension between the governing fractions in Fódlan, something else you’ve learnt from listening to them squabbling.

    Byleth and Jeralt acknowledge their bickering as if it was flies buzzing around their heads. They keep more to themselves and their mercenary comrades, indicating they’re really as much of strangers to the students as you. Their conversations are a lot quieter as well, their heads leaning close together for the illusion of privacy. More than once you notice Byleth sneaking glances in your direction, and every time you lock eyes, there’s something close to comprehension when she looks at you. The further you march through the woods, the less you try to meet her gaze. Reaching the monastery is the first step to regain who you are, or so you hope, because the opposite would mean you’ll continue stumbling through the darkness with no lead to your past or why you’re in this particular part of Fódlan, and you can only hope that this Rhea person really will be able to help you.

    A sound from the underbrush cuts through your thoughts.

    Thinking it might be an animal, you don’t let it bother you too much. No one else seems to have heard it, so maybe it was just your imagination. But your brain refuses to let it rest, and fails to push it away from your mind because something about the sound doesn’t seem to be right. The more you try to focus on it though, the blurrier it gets; the less you understand its origin.

    Then, you hear a voice from within the woods. It sounds like a slurred whisper.

    “What was that?” You stop in the middle of the road, looking around the thick trees. Claude barely manages to avoid walking into you. “What was what?”

    “There’s something here.” Unable to explain further, you wave your hand around for emphasis. He looks at your hand, incomprehension written all over his face. “And that something is what exactly?” he asks.

    “I don’t know.” You wave your hand wilder. “But I don’t have a good feeling venturing further.”

    “You may be still tired,” Edelgard offers, not hiding her irritation that the journey stopped. “It won’t be long until we reach Garreg Mach. You can rest however long you need inside the monastery’s infirmary.”

    “I’m not tired,” you hiss, hand falling back to your side where it clenches into a fist. “I just really don’t think we should go further for now.”

    “And why is that?” Dimitri inquirers. He raises a hand and the soldiers following them come to a halt, a murmur of unrest breathing through their lines, and it’s just enough that you question if it would be better to play if off and admit your mind is playing tricks on you due to exhaustion.

    But whenever you blink, a red veil falls over your right eye, blurring your surroundings. Little red dots move slowly in the distance through the forest. If you didn’t know better, you’d say it’s some sort of life form far away, slowly advancing on your position. “Because someone is coming,” you finally manage, scratching the thin skin below your irritated eye that’s started twitching slightly. “Someone is coming towards us from southwest. And I can’t say if they’re friendly or not.”

    Three pairs of eyes consider you like you’ve grown a second head. Only Byleth stares into the woods like she might find the strangers you’re talking about waiting behind the trees if she just looks hard enough.

    “Little one, are you sure this isn’t just an aftereffect from you hitting your head?” Claude offers, squinting into the woods. You’re pretty sure he’s staring directly at the moving dots but for whatever reason can’t see them.

    “Unless amnesia is suddenly another term for going crazy, I don’t think so,” you snap, unable to hold back the irritation raising to the surface.

    A whistle echoes through the tree crowns. Byleth snaps her head in the direction of the sound, growing all tense. She raises her hand into a tight fist, and all movement stills behind you. When you turn around, you see the mercenaries waiting in the underbrush like a flock of crows ready to swipe down on their prey. Jeralt breaks away from them and approaches Byleth, a frown cutting a deep wrinkle into his forehead.

    “Bandits,” he says, and quickly signs a hand gesture to the nearest bowman. He nods and disappears between trees. “Another mile away. If we stay on this road, we’ll walk right into them.”

    “Seven hundred feet, actually,” you blurt. Jeralt looks at you like you’re a cockroach under his boot. Another whistle cuts through the woods, one long followed quickly by two short. Byleth exhales audibly, and only now you notice she’s moved to stand beside you. “Seven hundred feet,” she mutters, her eyes fixed on you.

    Jeralt tenses. “How do you know, kid?”

    “I don’t know,” you mumble towards your boots. “I just see.”

    There’s an uncomfortable silence falling around you, and you’re too afraid to look up and read distrust in their eyes.

    “Does it matter?” Claude finally breaks the silence, sliding his bow from his shoulder. “They won’t be a problem with the knights and mercenaries on our side.” He jerks his chin towards Byleth, already plugging an arrow from his quiver. “You should really see her fight.”

    “Wait,” you say, reflexively reaching for the hem of his cape. “Don’t engage them yet.”

    Claude stops, one eyebrow arched up in a curve. “Beg your pardon?”

    “They come from the woods. Which means this is their hunting ground and they have the advantage. They have dozens of archers. I think they’re waiting until you reach a glade. And then open fire.”

    “Which means we’ll end up as skewers.” Claude scratches his chin and twirls the arrow between his slender fingers. “I can think of better ways to shuffle off this mortal coil.”

    Dimitri perks up. “You’ve read the Tale of Hamelot I gave you?”

    “I’ll give it a six out of ten. His soliloquies were awful.”

    “Boys.” Edelgard snaps her fingers impatiently as Dimitri opens his mouth to protest. “Not the time.” She takes your wrist and pulls it away from Claude’s cape, her hard gaze like a sharp knife. “Are we simply ignoring the fact that we have someone in our midst knowing the enemies’ movement and deployment?” she cuts in harshly. “Is this a plan to lure us into an ambush?”

    “You think someone would give away their comrades’ position just like that?” Claude eyes her wearily. “Don’t be so suspicious of everyone.”

    She glares at him. “I rather be suspicious than dead.”

    Which is a valid point and a trait you willingly admit to share with her, but that doesn’t really solve the problem at hand. Luckily, Dimitri seems to think the same. He doesn’t unfasten the spear on his back yet, but his fingers dance swiftly over the handle, immediately resting on where he can easily pull it from the straps if needed to strike down an enemy. “Fact is enemies are approaching,” he concludes, looking at his fellow students in search for a consensual ceasefire. “We must put an end to them before they target defenceless travellers on their way out of the forest.”

    “Spoken like a true crowd-pleaser,” Claude says, either unable or not caring to hide the mock in his voice. “We can resolve our new friend’s condition after we take down the enemy.”

    “I don’t agree with this,” Edelgard declares, but nonetheless unclasps the double-bit axe from her back and swings it on her shoulder like it weighs nothing. “But I accept that this is a more pressing issue.” The easiness in the movement robs your lungs of air, and even though there are more important matters to focus on, you wonder how her muscles play under her black uniform swinging around a thing like that. Your admiration comes to a quick end when Jeralt and Byleth close the circle. Her hand rests on the hilt of a short blade as she scans the underbrush, her body rigid with battle anticipation.

    “Let them come to us,” Jeralt announces. “Let them think they have the advantage.”

    “Your knigths over there move slow through the woods,” you say, gesturing at the waiting man clad in heavy armour and armed with shields. “But their amour can resist some stray arrows coming down on us. It’s the rearguard that will take them by surprise from another direction and—”

    “And charge their flank or rear to finish them off,” Jeralt ends with a crude nod. “Indirect approach. I thought of that as well.”

    Your mouth goes dry. The idea plopped seemingly out of nowhere in your mind, but yes, now that you think about it, that is the indirect approach tactic, first recorded after the Battle of Nicaea in … Faerghus? Or was it Adrestia? The picture in your mind is still blurry, but now you can make out definite lines of objects: Books with drawn pictures of pointing arrows and coloured lines, each lettered with a name or an approach in a neat handwriting that isn’t yours. The picture triggers another wave of dizziness, disappearing as fast as it appeared.

    “They’re going to faint in three, two, one…” Claude’s voice rips you back to the present. You glare at him and raise a fist to show how close to fainting you really are. He only laughs at the tiny fist in front of his face.

    “Enough brats, get into position,” Jeralt bellows, and the students scatter with a bouncing step in all their strides as they take the lead of a small unit.

    You’re about to retreat to the furthest point away from battle when Jeralt blocks the way. “Not you. You’re going with Byleth.”

    “I’m what?”

    “Byleth,” Jeralt nods to the young woman ahead of you, “will be the commanding unit and you’ll help her.”

    The world tilts a little as panic takes hold of you. “I can’t. I don’t know how to fight.”

    “You seem to know enough to plan a counterattack.”

    “That doesn’t mean anything.” Your voice sounds horribly piercing even to your own ears. “It was just a lucky guess.”

    “I don’t know what’s the deal with you,” Jeralt says with a finality to his voice that doesn’t allow objection, and this time you clearly see the head of a mercenary guild, one that gives commands with every breath. “But that wasn’t a lucky guess. You see what it needs to win a battle. So you guide them.”

    He turns around sharply and leaves, not bothering to check if you plan to abandon them. It’s madness. You should abandon these people, should flee from the fight that will demand blood and death. One, two, three … six steps and you’re standing beside Byleth, taking deep breaths. It doesn’t help. She eyes you sideways with a raised brow, and you flinch at the metallic rasping sound as she draws her sword.

    “I shouldn’t be here,” you mumble, staring into the woods. The red dots are approaching faster, forming into more recognisable features of humans. “I’m going to die. Without knowing who I am or why I’m here. This is the worst day of my life. I think. I don’t know. It has to be.”

    Byleth hums beside you. You can’t tell if it’s a thoughtful or an affirmative hum. “This might sound crazy, but I do trust you.”

    “Maybe you shouldn’t,” you say, struck by a sudden fear that this all is a fever dream and you're about to lead them into ruin. It’s enough that you don’t even notice this is the first time you two are talking to each other since your meeting.

    Byleth studies you out of the corner of her eyes, then says, “A very persistent voice inside me tells me I shouldn’t.”

    “That’s your survival instinct. Listen to it.”

    “Yeah,” Byleth says, and there’s something like a faint smile tugging at the corners of her lips. You blink and it's gone. “I might do that.”

    You don’t really understand what’s there to smile about, but the moment quickly disappears as silence settles, only occasionally disturbed by a bird sitting in the trees above you.

    “So what exactly do you see?” Byleth whispers after a moment, barely shifting in her crouching position. You on the other hand really want to move your legs before they go numb.

    “I don’t know why you guys even believe me,” you mumble, and pinch the bridge of your nose with your fingers, trying to stave off another rush of dizziness. “And I don’t understand it myself. It’s the opponent, in a way. I see their strengths and weaknesses, their amour and weapons. It’s like … it’s like the flow of battle is displayed in front of me.”

    Byleth hesitates a moment, then nods like everything is pretty much self-explanatory. You wonder if to her it really does sound plausible, as she is someone who is practically born in battle, a daughter to a mercenary who breathes battle and fighting. Before you can explain anything further, she ducks more into the bushes and silences you with a sharp hush, her body tensed. The first bandits approach the glade, their bows and arrows ready to strike as the Academy’s knights engage them. Swords and axes clash against each other, battle cries ring through the woods. Byleth gestures you to follow her, and out of the corner of your eyes you see the students do the same, moving around the bandits. From the distance, you notice Claude gesturing wildly. It’s a mix between pointing at himself and then at the space a couple of feet away from his unit, and though you’re unable to fully comprehend it, you shake your head. He gives a thumbs up and slows down until he halts inside the thick cover of ferns.

    Just when you reach the right angle, Byleth looks back at you, waiting for your approval, and after briefly hesitating, you signal with a short nod to attack. Edelgard is the first to emerge from the underbrush. She has a dancer’s grace and a seemingly unerring instinct for what her opponent will do next. Her axe cuts through the first bandits who are too surprised to regroup in time. Dimitri and Claude are quickly to follow her. The crown prince of Faerghus wields his weapon of choice like he’s never done anything else in his entire life. The spear is the instrument to a deadly song they know by heart, and whoever stands in the way of their melody is cut down swiftly. Claude doesn’t disappoint with his steady aim either, his eyes sharper than an eagle’s. He nocks his bow, draws and impales a bandit that’s been running toward a mercenary with a crooked nose and eye patch. The mercenary gives him an offhand salute and goes back to fighting a thug twice his size.

    And then there’s Byleth. At first you don’t see her as the battle’s chaos swallows her and she disappears between moving bodies. But once your eyes catch up to her again, it’s hard to look away. Byleth moves through the enemies’ lines like an avenging angel on a mission. Her sword arm causes havoc as it conducts the tact of death’s complicated choreography and one by one the bandits fall to her deadly dance. Strangely, what describes it the best, you think, is divine.

    The battle is almost over. The last bandits fall or flee back into the woods as they abandon their comrades who lay down their weapons and yield. A miserable sound of relief escapes you when you see the end nearing with little casualties on your side, thanking whoever watches over you and guides your weapons in victory.

    That is until you see something, and at first you aren’t really sure you see it. Veiled by a red haze, a gruesome scene unfolds before you: As Byleth is focused on helping a soldier back up on his feet, a bandit strikes her from behind, wedging a dagger through her spine and into her heart. When you blink, the scene is gone and with it the red veil covering your surroundings.

    You don’t think twice. Jumping out of your hiding spot, you quickly recognise what will be Byleth’s murderer. Only he never gets the chance to approach her. With everything you’ve got, you charge into him and send him flying on the ground, you on top of him. The bandit groans, groggily turning on his back to see what struck him, and before you can start to fear for your own dear life, Byleth is beside you and rams her sword into his throat, silencing him forever.

    She looks down at you and you feel like she knows what just happened. Why you jumped in. It’s in those keen, piercing eyes that speak of a unimaginable wisdom. She reaches a hand out to help you up, and when you stand, the last bandits have been secured and the chaos finally settles. That is when the throbbing pain in your right eye doubles you ever, the pain akin to a pinprick of ice hammering into your skull. The pain makes you sick as stars explode behind your closed eyes, and the more they dance in feverish circles, the harder you press your hands against your eyelids, trying to smother the pain by pressure. It doesn’t work.

    Unable to breathe properly, your stumble, and when you move your hands, your fingers smear something warm and wet across your cheeks.

    Someone takes in a sharp breath. “Your eye,” Byleth breathes, a hand raised but remaining hanging in the air like she’s unsure if it’s okay to touch you. In the background you hear someone calling out you’re bleeding, and it takes a few seconds to understand where you’re bleeding from. Your right eye cries blood when the pain finally knocks you out, darkness falling onto everything.

[datapacks]

Reflecting on One year of ONE, our server's vanilla End update.

Odds n Ends birthday was yesterday!!!! I'll be trying to set up an anniversary event for it, but the server is offline right now to update us to 1.17.

After said anniversary event, we will officially be moving into development of our next major update. The next phase of the @archhivist "ArchHive" server.

Odds N Ends was ONE, archhive content update 1.0. After this, we will officially be working on 2.0, or TWo.

For Odds N Ends, I had to develop the entire thing on my old PC, where even reloading textures would take about 30 minutes, and would eventually slow down my computer to the point of crashing.

It took months, and I'm really proud of how it turned out, and really happy that my staff and patrons supported its development so intensely. There were so many little bits that were cut from development, some of which are being repurposed in future content, but I have to say, personally, that I'm just... I'm really proud of how it turned out, and how much love and support our community has given, how much excitement we saw over my content... that directly drove my own excitement to create more things for the update.

We've talked about it a lot before in the server, but we've considered releasing merch for some of the stuff. At the very least, I'd love to make (and release) a sewing pattern for Lurkers, given how absolutely and ludicrously popular their design is with our players.

ONE was the first major success I've seen for a completely independent project I've worked on, and it will always hold a super special place in my heart because of that. However, moving forward, I hope our second update, the TWo following our ONE, will meet everyone's expectations, and then absolutely surpass them. The amount of things I am capable of now, especially thanks to developments with plug-ins (even a plug-in coded specifically at my request by a friend).

The name for the 2.0 / TWo update, as I've talked about before, is Tide Worn.

The Tide Worn update will focus on Winds and Oceans, updating the mountains with features inspired by Minecraft Dungeons, including a new beacon-like block that will allow players to throw ender pearls with no gravity, and some pretty cool other little things, such as goat villagers, wind temples, and a few new blocks and items to accommodate them.

The Ocean, however, is and will be the main focus. Players will be able to find a new Elder Monument, deactivate the Elder Conduit, learn more about the history of the world of minecraft (though in true minecraft fashion, indirectly), and make their way to a new dimension: The Abyss.

To compliment this, we will be reworking the minecraft brewing system to the best of our ability, and I even bought a premium plug-in to add entirely new enchantments to the game.

One example of this will be the Breathtaker enchantment, which will restore oxygen on attacking mobs.

As for potions, we'll be introducing a few new ones (haste, anyone?), antidotes using warped nether sprouts that can be used to remove singular potion effects, super-long and super-strong Elixirs and Droughts, and more.

There is also a focus on making Lapis Lazuli much more important in the game-play loop, although we are still HEAVILY working on ideas for this feature. As of right now, we would like players to be able to acquire Lapis Tomes, and enchant them, being able to Choose what enchantment you would like.

Beyond that, we are trying to allow players to use these tomes to even enchant their gear Beyond the normal, such as Sharpness 6- though these enchantments will come with some drawbacks to balance them out, such as potentially not being able to have mending applied.

Other focuses will be on making Gold a better block to build with (we already have textures for chiseled gold and gold bricks), making lapis better to build with (we have smooth lapis and lapis bricks done), and we even already have an equivalent to gilded blackstone in our gilded lapis.

A few other sneak peaks of upcoming blocks we're working on introducing, by name: shale, soap, salt, shell, and two new variant groups of prismarine, elder and ancient prismarine.

The Abyss will be, hopefully, a terrifying dimension to explore. Players will be underwater constantly, and have blindness applied to them if they are ever out of range of a conduit. We are trying to make it feel VERY claustrophobic, and very vertically oriented. With 1.17, we're hoping to try to make it 512 blocks tall, from Y=-512 to Y=0.

The idea behind the Abyss is that it is effectively a Water counterpart to the Nether, adjacent to the overworld in an entirely different way.

Of course, we're also still working on our core updates (fixing worldgen to make it more interesting for instance), and on our community updates (see: the guild system). These updates don't have official versions associated with them just yet, but the Guilds will launch 1.0 of our community update pipeline.

Anyway, stay tuned, and please before 1.17 drops on the server later today, wish Odds N Ends a happy birthday!

Here's to ONE year of lurker festivals 🤍