#ask glowy-death

[glow-in-the-dark-death]

Damian did not like DW, a girl half his age he met in the park. No he's not jealous of her size changing dog, shut up

Damian did not trust her when he learned the W stood for Whitney. No it's not because she and the dog are apparently also ninjas with how easily they both avoid him in the park, shut up

Damian did not stalk DW Nightingale to steal her dog, shut up

Damian was not ready to meet her father

Danny, happy: Damian, how are you?

Damian, shocked: You're supposed to be dead!

Danny "Commit to the Bit Fenton: I am dead. *Pretends to take off wig to reveal white hair* I'm just good at faking being alive

Damian: ...are you here because you adopted a child?

Danny: Oh no, she's mine. Also did you know ghosts can still breed?

Whitney is a pun on "with an i"

I love the dynamic between Damian and DW kinda reminds me of raccoons in an odd way for some reason ヘ(￣ω￣ヘ)

Also I might have just missed it but is this an AU where they are related/brothers?

Danny doing ghostly bullshit to do a wig pull is iconic.

( I kinda want to see that drawn kinda like Perry the Platypus

Damian: "DW's dad?"

Danny pulling his black hair off to reveal white hair underneath

Damian: "MY GHOST BROTHER!" )

ALSO!

Damian: "Ghost can breed, how does that work?"

Danny: " Yeah..so you know how a lot of parents tell young children that the way you make a baby is by kissing to not give them The Talk TM yet?

Totally legit with ghosts don't ask me why or how I was still in shock when my doctor was explaining it and missed more than half of what he was saying."

[averlym]

" just...come here. just sit here with me" (...that one scene from princess momonoke, click for better resolution)

[blorbologist]

how about 12 with vex? :)

12. Blindness/Deafness

"You can blind or deafen a foe. Choose one creature that you can see within range to make a Constitution saving throw. If it fails, the target is either blinded or deafened (your choice) for the duration."

[Inspired by this post]

Is it a bit ironic that Vex’ahlia is Pelor’s Champion? Hero of the sun? 

Oh, definitely.

Ironic? Oh, she knows those who don’t know better would protest to that.

To most of the citizenry of Whitestone, this would be perfectly apt. The brave and beautiful Lady Vex’ahlia - who drew their young Lord from darkness, took part in leading the whole city back into the light - she knows she’s already being hailed as such.

It’s - it’s actually very charming, and sweet, and when she teases Percy about it he gets such a smitten look to him. And she likes it, she does. Can’t fault Whitestone for wanting a bit of hope - but she’d have thought the townsfolk would know better. 

They know, probably better than most, how badly the sun can blind you.

Picture this: a young Vex’ahlia, only not little because of a growth spurt. Brace yourself and imagine her in Syngorn. No excuse to have a hood up, hiding her ears, should it be a beautiful day. Easier to not get immediately recognized as the Vessar bastard in the shade. The one time she reached for the sun - gold and emeralds, in a tiara made for her ancestors - she got burned. She learned. 

Just because Vax’ildan is

Just because Vax’ildan was the rogue does not mean he is

Does not mean he was the only one to appreciate the cover of shadow. 

Sunlight, Vex learned over the years, was a risk. A luxury, one she could rarely afford. Bright light revealed her to game and predators alike. It gleamed off coins to reveal her brother’s sleight of hand. Open grounds meant money meant trouble.

She’s spent a lot of her life avoiding its gaze. The attention did her no favors - and she could only stomach attention that did. That she could use, spin into a better room, another bounty, better pay.

The sun was warm, and decadent, and a risk. It took a lot of work to teach herself otherwise - with friends to watch her back. With security, and funds. And Percy. She can (or could) lounge in a sunbeam like a cat and enjoy the hard-earned gold on her skin.

Now its (his? Is the sun a he, like its god?) eye is upon her, always, and it’s an excruciating contrast.

Elven eyes are not made for constant, incessant light. Only the drow really suffer for its abundance - but if you look, most elves will squint and tactfully avoid direct light for long periods of time. Just as their eyes gleam gold-green when lit in the dark, they narrow in protest when it’s too bright. 

Every time she steps outside, without fail, it’s sunny. Which was a lovely thing, at first, before the weight of it really began to settle on Vex’s shoulders. She is outside almost daily, due to her duties with the Grey Hunt. Now she’s arranged to delegate more of the time training recruits, and even avoid patrols in her beloved forest. The weather catches up on tantrums and dreary rain when she elects to spend the days inside. 

By cruel coincidence she always wakes facing the dawn, now - at dawn, as the sun first winks over the Alabaster Sierras. She’s almost considered asking Percy if they could change rooms - instead she’s tactfully used her husband as a shield, so even if she turns in her sleep she wakes in his chest and not to a devastating sunrise.

The one day they tried for a picnic, Vex had been so grateful Percy chose to nestle their blanket between the Sun Tree’s roots. But even in the shade of the tree the heat was loud. Pouring through the leaves, bowing them like heavy rain, and beating against her ears, inside her head. It was deafening. 

What she can’t stand is that not the change. It’s trivial, fucking trivial, compared to the fact Vax

Trivial compared to other upheavals, lately. Need to wear shades? She can do that. Put on more tinctures to deal with sunburn. Even deal with everyone seeing her coming, not like she trained to move silently and without notice for several months or anything. 

What has her unsettled is… given all this, how badly this shoe fits…

“Why me?” she asks Percy one night, when the sun’s attention is on the opposite side of the world and she can feel that and it’s disquieting. “Why did Pelor choose me, Percy?”

He hums, pulling her up a bit more to nestle her head under his chin. She feels him grin when she presses a smile to his throat out of reflex. “Well. I get credit for choosing you. He simply approved of my excellent taste.”

Percy’s chuckle dies when she does not respond to his cheer. “Vex, dear?”

“I mean. We both can agree I’m, just, so beautiful, and brilliant, and hot,” she says. Stalls. “But - the Champion of Pelor? The sun god? Me? Sunny?”

“Probably not the best descriptor,” he admits. “Though I think I could convince you of the similarities.”

Vex is perhaps a bit too unsettled by all this to roll her eyes. Which, she suspects, is what gets Percy to hold her a little tighter. 

“You burn, dear.” Percy presses a kiss to her temple. “Even before all this, and ignoring the whole Orthax ordeal. Vox Machina’s guiding beacon, without which we would be bumbling in the dark. How a room would orbit you and you could so easily dictate others to your whims. You inspire growth, and joy, and trust. The sun will always rise, and set, and warm us in the meantime.” He pauses, then, a touch too long if not for how his mind works. “So often, I would look at you and it would hurt if I stared too long. That’s very sunlike.”

“I knew you were looking at my ass,” Vex mumbles. Her husband snorts. He makes worry impossible, holding her like this, sounding so fucking romantic.

“Don’t be crass,” he scolds cheerfully. “I was admiring you. From a distance. Because you were also a little terrifying.”

Vex pulls back with great reluctance to scrutinize him. He’s serious. “Me? Scary? Darling, we were traveling with Grog.”

“As well as -” he changes course: “And I had a solid hunch I’d be gutted like a fish if some people caught me staring. But no - you, Vex’ahlia, had me impressed. Which was scary for me, that anyone could be impressive other than myself.”

“I love the arrogance, darling.”

Percy snuggles her back in to kiss her cheek. The pressure brings to Vex’s attention the faint glow of her freckles. “I do, too. There was… something, even then. You kept people at a distance with the cold front. But it felt like it was that or burn them alive, because  - like if you dropped your guard the intensity would be blinding.”

“Are you sure you’re not talking about Keyleth?”

He makes a face. “I certainly hope I’m not talking about Keyleth. I love her, but that’s my best friend, I - ugh.”

Now Vex feels well enough to roll her eyes, trace patterns into his shoulder to draw his mind away. “Maybe I’m just like the sun because I’m eating myself alive. Burning at the expense of anything else. And bring pretty sunlight that scorches the earth to drought and gives deathly pale nerds a sunburn.”

“Darling.” This time it’s Percy who pulls away, gently tilting her chin up. “Sineath, remember?”

Fuck him, his pronunciation has gotten perfect.

She grumbles vaguely in response. 

Percy takes the time to think, running his fingers through her hair, sometimes kissing her gently. She catches the reflection of the glow here and there - in his teeth, warming his skin, gleaming on his wedding ring.

“I think,” he says eventually, quietly, gently, “that the dawn can be scary, after so long in the dark. And it takes a bit of doing to feel like you can stomach being so seen.” 

Vex nods into his neck. 

“And,” Percy continues, “I’ll endure it too, if I can. Not that I’m a Champion of anyone, but… well. Get a tan with you, I guess?”

She snorts. “Oh, you’d look so silly!”

“I will sacrifice all that and more for you,” said so very gravely. Vex’s stomach does a giddy little flip.

(Maybe she’s being a little touchy about this. Because it’s not Pelor’s fault, that everything is too bright and too loud, but there’s a correlation that’s safer to blame for how she is right now. Oversensitive.)

(Maybe she has an idea - just an idea - as to why.)

(Maybe.)

“You answered your own question. Earlier.”

“Oh?”

“It’s fitting, that the Champion of the solar deity be hot.”

Vex takes a second before smacking his chest with a pillow. “Flatterer.”

“I speak only the truth!”

[childofaura]

The new R!Sigurd?

YES, that one came out looking so good. Let's break it down.

So Resplendent Sigurd is another grand slam by Niji Hayashi:

Look at that incorporation! Look at the torso! There's an active glow to his torso with energy emanating from it! Look at his ragged cape flowing all around him! This is a gorgeously designed Hel Resplendent, one that could match Heldigan. The armor design for his chest is very appealing, and the addition of shoulder pauldrons in Hel's style, plus the flared out sleeves, is great. Outstanding design overall, and now we just need Quan to complete this trifecta of fallen friends (and Quan's color-scheme being black and gold gives me hopes for a very promising Hel Resplendent design for him).

I don't need to sound like a broken record, I really like Niji Hayashi's artwork. The posework for Sigurd is so solid.

Hel definitely fits Sigurd's tragic end, from the info I've gleaned regarding Genealogy. Though lots of people were suggesting Muspell attire D:

Resplendent Sigurd is easily a 10/10. Like I mentioned before, I eagerly await Resplendent Quan to see A) who is the artist for him, and B) If they can live up to the hype that Suzuki Rika and Niji Hayashi have established.

[l8tof1]

Where did he give that quote of your longest tag?

i’ll be honest with you anon, i wrote that tag quite a while ago and it took me so long to work out where i’d heard him say this!! it seems that i was referring to this interview (though clearly, as you’ll see, my tag isn’t an exact quote 😅):

idk if he’s mentioned this elsewhere as well since I said in my tag that he ‘always’ says this? 🤨

in any case, that full interview is so so wonderful and you must watch it!

[lemon-popp]

Spending time with the Sith: episode iii

Pairing: Qimir x Black! female oc

Warnings: swearing, NSFW smut (intense making out, fingering in the pool), fluff, mention of cancer and death. PROBABLY GRAMMAR AND TYPING ERRORS (not proof read)

Word count: 4,9k

masterlist

The sun has risen, the fiery ball shining its yellow hue through the length of the cave, giving it a dreamy glowy haze. The light creeps deeper in the cave, making its way to the bedroom in which Luna laid peacefully on her back. The wrapped messy bun that once sat atop of her head was now let loose due to the lack of a bonnet and her insufferable tossing and turning last night. Deep brown curls fell across her face and sprawled out against the pillow she used. As if her faced was framed by a chocolate cumulus cloud. Her body stretch out like a starfish, one leg hanging off the bed and out the duvet, the other bent like a hook. This was the best sleep she has gotten in a long time.

The planet's main light source finally reaches Luna's eyes, begging her to get up and start the day. She answers to nature's alarm clock with fluttering eyes, adjusting to the change of the darkness of behind her lids. A yawn escapes her as she stretches, a loud groan escaping her mouth. She was sure she had sleep marks littering her face as she sat up straight, immediately noticing the lack of presence of a certain someone. The spot next to her was vacant, Qimir no where to be found.

Luna furrows her brows with confusion, wondering if she illusioned him climbing into the bed last night. Conjuring the mahogany scent he carried after his bath in the pool. The warmth she felt radiating from him even though they were easily three feet apart. He was there. There's no doubt. Then why dd he leave?

Was I snoring? kicking him? Or worse...what if I stunk? I mean I haven't taken a decent shower since I was home.

Luna grimaced, lifting her arms up to take a shameful whiff of her pits. The smell wasn't awful, definitely manageable, but compared to his polished state last night it was probably way more noticeable. Luna cringed hard, noting that she must take a dip in that pool of his before being met with him again.

With one final stretch, Luna shimmies off the bed, lighting testing if she could put more pressure on her foot. Nope. The defeated girl sighs. Although she didn't want to admit it, hopping into the bedroom and changing clothes with one foot was a pretty demanding activity that she didn't want to go through for the rest of today. Especially with her helper randomly running off like this.

Luna's eyes scan his cluttered room, filled with various trinkets from different planets that gave the assumption of his being well traveled, searching for something to use to help her walk. After, a couple look throughs, her eyes catch something. A cane.

ha, gotcha

Luna hobbles her way to the wooden cane that leaned against the stone wall across from the bed. Dust littered the handle signifying its obviously very frequent use. The young woman slender fingers wrap around the handicap tool, feeling the smooth naturally carved ridges.

perfect

Luna leans on the cane, using it as a crutch to freely move herself about the stoned home, unbothered to change back into her tactical gear since she was alone apparently. Her short stature limped to the main room clad in her black tank top and matching shorts that rode up high on her plump butt.

Luna walks toward the stove, wondering if there was more of that soup to eat for breakfast. To no luck, the pot was empty causing a disappointed sigh to leave her lips.

i’ll make sure to ask for the recipe before i leave…if he ever returns

Her mind trails off of her growing hunger going back to the man that took her in yesterday. Where had he run off? How come he trusted her to be alone in his home. She could snoop. Steal his valuables.

Was he stupid? or did he just trust me?

“Trust is a strong word, young one,” Qimir’s deep, timber voice echoes off the walls into Luna’s not-so-sharp ears, causing her to jump. Her hand clutches at her chest feeling the race of her heart that thumps from being startled in such a way. Taking her time to catch her breath before processing what Qimir just said.

How did he-What? Did he just answer my question? How? How did he know?

Qimir smiles, with his signature smirk, from the entrance of the cave, his muscular arms crossing, taking in the girl’s confused face as her mind races. The man has been standing there for a while, watching Luna make her way to the stove in her undergarments that made her look ravishing. The black spandex shorts clinging onto the curve of her ass like a second skin. Ass that bounced gently with every crippling step she took. A part of Qimir. A rather large part, wants nothing more than to shove his face in it. But that wasn’t really appropriate at the moment.

So instead, he stood there broodingly, using the Force to read her mind. To gauge her true intentions. There was a an initial doubt in his mind when it came to her, that temporarily washed away with her (possible) ‘mom has cancer’ crying act. But the unsure feeling that was subdued quickly crawled back to the forefront of his mind upon waking up at the crack of dawn.

Qimir rushed out of bed, a strange feeling rumbling in his gut telling him to search the immediate area for possible jedi. He still believed this was a trap.

A girl this perfect. A heart so sweet, but careful fortified with fearlessness. A face and body that could entangle any man, woman or creature in a dangerous web. She’s too good to NOT be a trap.

After hours of trekking he found nothing. They were still the only ones on this planet, but he still had one more trick up his sleeve to find out her true reason for being here.

“I know. I just—that’s just how i felt,” Luna regained her composure with a grip on her cane, bringing Qimir back to the present. Instead of overthinking and coming up with impossible realities, Luna chalks up his strange statement to a recall of her sleepy words last night.

“I trust you” The words from the last night rushing back into her memory that Qimir reads.

If she was working with the Jedi she would know that he was reading her mind. Hell, she would even attempt to fortify her mind. Not give him easy access like an open book on a table.

Maybe she’s really not an enemy.

“Anyway, you bring any food back?,” Luna fills the silence with a large expecting smile. Hoping that he had returned with the ingredients to make that delicious goopy soup.

Qimir rolls his eyes reluctantly letting her brightness infect him. The way her lips curled into the smile, showing the straight teeth she had, it made his heart flutter. He reached into the bag he carried, grabbing a yellow banana to which he tosses across the cave in her direction, watching her stumble to catch.

“hopefully that’ll hold you over until dinner,” Qimir officially makes his way deeper into the main room. Dropping the bag that hung from his bouldery shoulders with a loud thud to the ground, taking a seat on the lonely chair. He gazed up at the woman in front of him who held the fruit in her grasp, clearly disappointed that this was all there was to eat.

“How’s your ankle?,” Qimir points his shoe covered foot towards her, motioning to her injury. Luna shakes her head slightly taking a bite from the banana.

“I don’t know. The pain keeps going in and out. It’s annoying,” The gorgeous woman sighs, clearly defeated. She wanted nothing more than to be better already and get her hell out of here.

Qimir takes in a deep breath hoping to ease the churning feeling in his stomach. Guilt rush over him from knowing that he could heal her with a quick graze of his fingers if he really wanted to. I mean, It’s not like he didn’t want to, the selfless part of him truly did want to. But his self-serving side overshadowed that thought.

If he were to share his power with her, it would require him to reveal who he really was. For her to accept him. To accept the arguably terrible things he’s done. To give him her trust. And for him to accept that trust.

He wasn’t ready to do that.

She’s just gonna have to wait until nature takes its course and heals her.

“You’ll be healed soon. I do have medicine,” The seated man swallowed trying to ease the sickening sensation that brewed in his stomach. Although he felt this way, Qimir did a successful job at acting cool and smug like usual.

Luna rolls her eyes at his nonchalant statement, heat rising from the passion of her chest to almond of her eyes.

“Soon?! I need to be healed now! She’s out there waiting for me,” She wailed with tears starting to stream out of her eyes, down the plump apples of her cheeks. Staining the brown porcelain skin of hers. Voiced quivering as her tone was now raised to a soft yell. Even when upset her voice still sounded sweet like a perfect jar of honey.

Qimir’s heart clenched, but he stayed silent. Unsure of what to do to help her. To soothe her. They meet each other’s eyes, sharing a look of sorrow before Luna’s suddenly becomes overcome with anger that is followed by her ‘storming’ towards the cave’s exit.

“And you’re off to?,” The powerful man’s eyes never left her, following her movements that seemed to be leaving.

Luna stops briefly.

“I’m gonna wash myself. care to join,” Her voice drastically less sweet than before now laced with malice as she spoke sarcastically, mocking his words from last night. It hurt Qimir at first, confusing him.

What did i do? I didn’t twist her ankle. Granted, i could heal her, but she doesn’t know that.

Thinking quickly, Qimir uses the Force to get into her mind once again. The words lingered in her head, feeling bad for the delivery but the statement holding true. She was on her way to take a dip in his ocean pool, hopefully to relieve herself from the intense emotions that filled her. Another statement held true as well. Well it wasn’t a statement but rather an invitation. Despite her awkward response to his inquiry last night, part of her wished she answered with confidence. That reflected what her body ached. So she mocked him. half doing it out of spite, the other genuinely open for him to join.

The ache that tortured Qimir eased upon acquiring this information. If she wanted him to join, he’ll join. It was the least he could do for her if he wasn’t going to heal her.

Qimir peels himself off the chair, sauntering his way to the same direction Luna has gone, immediately seeing her in the middle of the shore, back turned to him as she stared at the glistening blue water.

Luna begins with a drop of the cane, the thudding sound muted by the sand. Her delicate hands then grabs the bottom of her black tank, pulling it over her head. Her curls being ruffled even more with this action. Next were her black shorts which she climbed out of awkwardly, trying to avoiding damaging her foot even more.

The girl now stood bare. Only her backside unknowingly exposed to Qimir who stares unabashedly. Admiring the deep line that started between her defined shoulder blades and stopped right above the dimples of her back. Her ass even more perfect outside the shorts, so round and plump, like a nice pillow.

The extraordinary sight afar has a dramatic affect on our man standing ten feet away. All the blood that was used to function quite literally his whole body, rushed to his appendage that now strained against his briefs. He groans out quietly to himself to not disturb the clueless lady as he rubs the growing ache.

Luna feels the breeeze blowing against her nipples, causing her to shiver slightly before taking her first gentle, limping, steps into the water. The soft liquid wrapping around her like a warm blanket, her body melting into it, almost becoming one with the powerful element. Her eyes close, focusing on keeping her breathing steady to keep her emotions at bay. But not even this relaxing bath could help. Visions of her mom flashed through her mind. Visions of her worrying about Luna’s whereabouts. Worrying if her daughter was dead. The worrying ultimately worsening her condition, expediting the punch in date.

Luna’s chest tightens around her pounding heart, constricting the vital organ. Her throat closing slowly as if hands were clutching tightly to it. making it hard for her to breathe. Her head swaying from dizziness, until a large, calloused hand lands on her shoulder, pulling her back to the real world. Her breath hitches in the tight airway of her esophagus.

Luna’s head glances back at the hand that touched her, surprised that Qimir followed her especially after her tone. His towering presence burned behind her, a realization run through her mind that they were both bare. She wasn’t uncomfortable though by this realization though. Just surprised.

Qimir notes how her body slightly relaxes at his touch, fully expecting her to probably lash out again. He sighs, still seeing how her overthinking tormented her endless mind.

Sure he had no clue how it feels to go through a pain quite like this. To have a mother at all. Let alone a mother you’ve spent your whole life with who you’re about to lose.

Luna drops her head in defeat, letting drops of salty tears drop into the large cast of salty water as she cried silently. Qimir takes the opportunity to help her clean as her. His large hands cup together, gathering a pool of water to which he gently pours down her back, washing any grime that littered her deep skin. The water trickles down the line of her back. A line he desired to lick.

Qimir stood behind her. Decorated with perfectly carved muscles, strength used to kill anyone who cross him. However, the strength that was shown right now was his restraint.

Qimir has seen countless of women in a similar fashion. A fun past he did have indeed, but none of them had an effect quite like this on him. A woman suggesting anything remotely related to sex, he would pounce on her. Taking them quick and roughly, fulfilling his own pleasure. Although this was…different. Yes, he found her alluring, which was an understatement. He craved almost nothing more than to ruin her. key word being almost, what he craved more was taking care of her. protecting her.

His fingers massages her skin with his nimble fingers, starting at the nape of her neck climbing up to the curly thicket of her hair. His left hand takes a handful of her thick hair, making a makeshift ponytail to full expose the length of her neck. The other unused hand graze up her damp arm tantalizingly slow up to her shoulder, feeling her buttery skin on his tips.

The little action setting Luna’s skin on fire.

Qimir bends slightly at his waist, bringing his face next to hers, his pink lips centimeters away from the conch of her ear. Light breaths escapes his lips, breathes that make contact with her exposed neck. Her glossy eyes close to full take in his touch. To focus all of her senses on the gentle touch Qimir gave her.

“you will see your mom again,” Qimir’s deep voice vibrates into the shell of her ear, the affirmation soaring through her mind. A light smile grows across Luna’s face as she appreciates the reassurance, especially after just beating herself up minutes ago.

“you promise?,” She whispers with a rasp that resulted from how much she has been crying. Her eyes remained close fearing that once she’d open them her mind would go back to forging false realities of her mother. So Luna keeps them closed, opting for the relaxing touch of Qimir’s gentle but possessive grip on her.

do i promise??

In the very short time Qimir has known Luna, he has definitely grown to care for her. Even in his paranoia that she was a Jedi spy, he still took her in. Fed her. Offered his bed. Which terrified him. Caring for someone terrified him. Because caring led to betrayal. Caring leads to loss. it could lead to love…which, in his case, was a deep vulnerability. Him promising was a test, a test to see how far he’d go for her, how much he cared for this girl.

Qimir stayed silent to avoid answering, using the tips of his fingers that grazed down the side of her body to distract from the unanswered question. His large vascular hand untangles from her curls and breaks through the surface of the water, following the path of his other hand. His palms descend lower and lower down her body, feeling the deep curve of her waist, before landing on the protrusion of her round hips. The digits on his hand grip tightly, not one tight enough to cause the girl pain, but one that would require a skilled maneuver to escape.

Qimir twists Luna by this advantage point, forcing the beaut to now face him. A gasp emits from her lips, stumbling from the quick and sudden movement which inadvertanty send her falling into his chest. A fall that she breaks with gentle hands placed firmly on his defined chest. Feeling his hammering heart beat.

As her wet miniature hands made contact with his body, it was almost as if an electrical current punctured his heart and traveled down south. Inflating his cock. The hands that once had a gentle grasp on Luna’s hips to become much firmer as he pulled her lower half away from his growing appendage.

Luna's eyes climbs up the man’s upper body slowy, unabashedly taking her time to take in the detail of his olive skin and the scars that littered him. She wondered where they all came from, considering that he lives alone on this planet.

He probably hasn’t ALWAYS lived here, Luna. The man has a past.

The girl shoos off the thought, continuing her visual climb until she finally meets her destination. His eyes. His eyes that were already closed on her. Eyes that peered through his perfectly fallen strands of black hair that tickles her forehead. Eyes that were clouded, laced with a feeling way stronger than lust at the moment. Eyes that make Luna gasp.

Their eye contact doesn’t waver. Even with the fact that the water they stood idle in was crystal clear. Allowing a HD view to the others full front side. What Qimir’s v-line was pointing to underneath those black pants. Or the taut breasts that was covered by a flimsy tank top. Neither of their eyesight faltered. The passion and the intensity from the stare being more than enough for them.

Qimir gives her his infamous smirk, one that intimidates many, but was currently being used to hide the absolute control this woman has over him.

The left hand that was previously placed on her hip, was now under her jawline, his thumb caressing the silky skin of her face. Wiping the remaining streak of tears that stained her golden skin before placing his thumb flat on her pillowy full lips. Fighting to urge to part them, sticking it in, or anything else.

“Of all my years. You are the most beautiful woman i have ever met,” Qimir’s drops his voice down to whisper, as if it was a secret, as they literally weren’t the only two here right now. Similar to the affect of Luna’s touch on Qimir’s chest, The words the leave his mouth enters her hear and immediately reaches her womanhood which was already throbbing from the moment Qimir entered the pool. In an attempt to ease the pulsating, Luna squeeze her thighs together causing a soft moan to escape in turn before she could catch it.

“What do you say…when someone gives you a compliment?,” Qimir’s head dipped lower, finding the crook between Luna’s shoulder and neck and buring himself there. His breath tickling her with every spoken word. Dominance oozed out of him so naturally, dominance that lured Luna in like a worm to a fish. His pink lips first pressed gently on her thumping artery, laying continuous pecks up the length of her neck to her jaw, and across her cheek, just barely missing her lips.

He knows what he’s doing

“Than—Thank you,” Not only can Luna barely breathe, but apparently she could barely speak. Stumbling over her words once again like an idiot.

Qimir’s smiles grows, his control slipping completely out of his grasp due to her innocent stuttering. The wide gaze of her almondy eyes that sent him down a spiral and without hesitation he kisses her.

Their lips crashed into each other that the waves did in the distance to the rock shore. The feeling of Qimir’s lips on Luna made her lightheaded as he kiss with such vigor and experience. His hands gripping the back of her neck, keeping her in place as if she was trying to escape. Kissing him was a feeling like no other, a feeling she didn’t know she was missing out from all this time. The way his free hand caressed her body under the water, completely avoiding the places she deeply craved that he touch out of respect. The way he nibbled at her juicy lips and then licked them to soothe the pain. Luna was already fully at his mercy.

Qimir’s now busy hands, allowed for Luna’s hip to float freely in the water, which of course gravitates towards his body leaving no space inbetween. Their bodies clashed together, similar to their lips. Luna’s breast pressed tightly on Qimir’s brute pecs as she wraps her arms around his neck. Qimir’s cock know fully laid flat against her soft stomach, heat radiating off of him like a furnace.

The horny woman gasps at the feeling of his length on her, daring not to glance down to see just how big he really was. Instead using the sense of touch the feel how his base started at the top of her mound and the tip ended well above her belly button.

of course he’s big. i mean look at him. look at those arms.

His hands travel down the length of her back resting on the rounding of her ass as he grabs a handful with no warning. All while still devouring her stunning face.

Loud moans overtake what once was a quiet, relaxing evening as Luna’s body is sent into overdrive. Her skin burned as if gasoline was poured on her and she was sent to the sun. Her mind was foggy like and early morning in the forest, forced to only think about Qimir. She ached for him. She wanted him.

Luna breaks the kiss to flip around back to the position they started in. Qimir stands there partially upset at her abrupt ending of their make out sesh, but that quickly subsided when her plump ass push perfectly against his dick. A deep groan leaving his pink lips to let her know as such. He has the desire to insert himself from behind, taking her passionately in the water. But before he has the chance to, Luna grabs both of his hands, placing one of her full breast and the other on her throbbing mound.

Qimir’s eyes widened at the girl’s assertion, surprised that she had this confidence in her because the blabbering girl she was earlier didn’t show that one bit. His shock, however, faded away quickly, being replaced by determination. She had officially given him permission to touch her intimates. To fully please her. To claim her.

Qimir’s finger begin to work on the bundle of nerves down south. His middle finger drawing precise, agonizingly slow circles around her clit. Her knees buckle at his action, but it brought back up with a squeeze of her nipple.

“This is what you wanted pretty girl? For me to touch you like this?,” His teasing words makes her grind into his pleasing hand. She was already so close. So close to relieving all the aching she felt. Starting from the ache of her mother’s health, to the literal ache of her ankle, to the ache between her legs caused by a stranger she just met yesterday.

what am i doing? A doubting thought rushes through her head.

“You’re relaxing. Let me help you,” Qimir’s voices breaks through, answering her question once again. Her eyebrows furrow in wonder, mind completely unfocusing from the magical work going on under the water.

okay, once was a coincidence, but twice now? Something is up—

Luna’s thoughts were cut off abruptly by Qimir’s finger entering the hole that was already begging to be filled. He took his time inserting one finger, unsure of how far she was willing to take this and the amount of experience she had. A pleased squeal that escaped her lips give him reassurance as he continues to pump in and out, now using his thumb to rub her clit.

A knot formed in her stomach that was getting ready to snap, her precious moans growing louder and more frequent. Hands reaching to grab Qimir’s bulging biceps for balance.

“Q—Qimir. I can—i can’t. I’m cumming,” Luna buckles as an orgasm rips through her, tears running down her eyes, but this time not in sorrow. Her shaken body grows limp by the second, the grip she had on Qimir still lingered but very weak.

Their chests heave in unison, reeling from the events that had just occurred. Luna, finally able to catch her breath, stands dazed in the water with Qimir still wrapped around her. His single digit still inside of her warm cunt.

He didnt move. Still recovering from the hearing her angelic, heavenly moans. From how she placed his hands on her warm cunt and how she quivered under his touch. From the warm feeling of her wrapped around his finger, how he wanted nothing more than to feel her tightly hugging his cock that still throbbed for her.

The girl leaned her head back, resting gently on his chest with her eyes closed, her long eyelashes touching the top of her apple cheeks. She was in complete bliss and Qimir observes this, taking in the new glow this girl possessed. His heart swells knowing that he completed his task. He made her relax. He eased her mind.

Qimir slowly removes his lonely finger from her womanhood, afraid to disturb her from this pure state and lifts her up bridal style. A shocked sound leaves her as her body was now fully out the water, exposed to the breezy air, but Qimir pays no mind. His eyes stay trained on hers as he walks them towards the shore, neither of them speaking a word, a comfortable silence fillings the air as he wades through the water.

The couple finally reach the shore to which he gracefully places Luna down, avoiding her hurt foot. The sun was near set, golden hour doing its work on the gorgeous man that stood in front of her. The water no longer a barrier, his sculpted body was now in full display, the orange sun defining every shadow of his abs, the veins of his arms and the monsterous size of his dick.

that was what was underneath the water?!

The flutters start to make a return, but are quickly pushed to the side.

don’t get greedy now. this was just a one time thing. he probably only did it out of sympathy anyway.

Qimir reaches behind him, grabbing a cream robe that was laid out neatly on a nearing boulder. He opens the linen fabric towards Luna’s direction, offering to put it on for her. Her eyes meet his. The dark clouds that once lived in his irises vanished, replaced with a genuine softness that makes her feel…safe.

She turns around accepting his offer and he slides the thin material over her arms, bringing it to hang at her shoulders. His fingers tickling her skin the entire time, His breath lingering at her neck.

Luna takes over the finishing touches of tying the robe and in the meantime, Qimir wraps himself in one of his own. They both matched. Except one was perfectly fitted, tailored made and the other one extremely oversized. The sleeves ended way past her hands and then hemmed end nearly went over her knees. She looked like a nun.

Luna turns around to face Qimir with a smile and a funky pose, modeling the unique fitting robe. A laugh brewing in his chest at seeing how his clothes swallowed her whole. A laugh that is stifled, offering a humorous smile instead.

“Okay, let’s get you inside. I can hear your stomach growling,” Qimir shakes his head at the girl as he wraps him muscular arm around her waist to help her back into the cave.

episode iv

[fairytsuk1]

Sitting on Alex's face? Cause i kinda feel like he would beg you to do it

sitting on alex’s face

alex is kinda shy to eat you out at first bcuz he thinks he’s bad at it 😭😭 he doesn’t wanna be the guy that ur venting to ur group chat about later, he wants to make you cum in every position no matter what!!! he wants to please you, it’s literally his goal in life.

usually, alex is down to fold to his knees and stuff his nose into your pussy until you’re crying out “alex!!” and your fingers are winding into his hair. but … lately he’s been thinking, and he’s been seeing how your plush thighs enticingly give way to smooth glowy skin. what if…?

“can i ask you something,” he probes, thumb stroking your inner thigh as he looks into your eyes, “about trying something new?”

alex doesn’t typically stray out of the box, so you smile and nod encouragingly.

“i want you to sit on my face,” and he’s DEAD serious.

“a-are you sure?! i don’t wanna crush you!”

“you won’t! i’m strong enough, it would be like the best death ever babe! i promise, i want you too,” he says, gripping your hand and squeezing it.

after some thought, you give him a shy nod. you’ve never seen him grin wider.

later, you’re shaking above him as he looks up at you with a delighted expression, “I don’t care if you crush me! si me muero, me muero.”

you laugh, biting your lip and feeling your arousal drip down your thigh. his pink tongue reveals itself in flashes as he can’t help but lick his lips in anticipation. your pussy on full, wet display just for him. his hands urge you down with pleading eyes.

“just a taste,” he mumbles after sucking a mark on your thigh.

it was more than just a taste. he’s a man starved as he laps at your folds and messily slurping because he won’t miss a drop. alex suckles on your clit, and your hands are buried in his dark locks as you shake, “oh, oh!! alex, oh fuck!”

he can only groan into your cunt as the flat of his tongue rubs soft circles. it’s so wet, so so hot, “feels so good,” you babble as he bring you closer and closer to your peak.

alex can tell you’re quivering for him by the way your hole clenches as he tongue-fucks you, how you squeeze his head and tug him closer moremoremore—!!

“i’m cumming!!”

you wail, hips rocking as you ride his face. part of you is worried about alex’s breath but he pays no mind as he lets you ride out your orgasm. it leaves you gasping, shuddering, lip-biting; and your heart is beating rabbit fast as your thighs give way to the glistening on his nose and cheeks.

“well? how was that?”

he asks, lips grinning as he takes in your fucked out appearance, “did you like it, babe?”

you taste yourself on his tongue as you kiss him, “liked it? oh, I loved it.”

[aprocessionofthoughts]

Explanations

part 4 of MM ao3

Danny winced, overwhelmed for a moment at the emotions Hood was projecting. A flurry of fear, anger, not again, pain being shoved at him as forcefully as if someone were screaming in his ear. 

Danny raised his hands in surrender. “Look, we don’t mean any harm. I honestly have no idea what pits you’re talking about, but I do know a lot about the being dead thing.”

Hood didn’t move, just kept glaring at him.

Danny took a chance and projected peace, want to help, it’s ok. 

Hood’s angry aura faded and he stumbled back a step.

“What was that?” Hood growled and Danny gulped as Hood’s aura flared again with anger, confusion, fear.

“Sorry.” Danny said. “I forget that new liminals aren’t used to projecting, but it’s just another form of talking. And you don’t need to worry, I’m also dead adjacent. “Though,” Danny paused, “I don’t know what the lazarus pits are.”

Hood was still tense but his aura had pulled back a little. “The Lazarus Pits are lakes of glowing green goo.”

“Huh.” Danny gleaned at Jazz. “We call the green goo Ectoplasm. But if these pits are what brought you back, I think they might be rancid. You stink.”

“Excuse me?” Hood took a step back as his aura flared with indignation.

Jazz cleared her throat.

“What my brother means is that the ectoplasm that brought you back may have been polluted. He can tell because he also has ectoplasm in his system which allows him to sense other sources of ectoplasm.”

“Explain.” 

“Look,” Jazz said, “Why don’t we all sit down and I’ll make some tea and then Danny can explain better.” she sent a pointed look in his direction.

“Fine.”

Jazz nodded and turned and walked toward the kitchen where there was a table and some chairs. Danny followed her and so did Hood.

Danny fiddled with his hands as Jazz was making tea. Honestly, Danny was trying not to comment on the fact that the fully dressed vigilante looked kind of ridiculous sitting at their kitchen table.

“Would you like some tea?” Jazz said, looking toward Hood.

Hood paused before responding. “No thanks.” 

Jazz nodded then turned back toward the kettle.

“Soooo….” Danny started. “Before we go on, i do need to know if you actually died, or if you just encountered some green goo.”

Hood didn’t say anything.

Danny sighed. “If it helps, I actually died and was brought back to life via green glowy stuff.”

Danny waited and was about to give up and wait for Jazz to lead the conversation when Hood finally spoke.

“I died, I’m not sure what brought me back. But then I was dumped in a Lazarus Pit.”

“Huh.” There weren’t a lot of things that could bring people back from the dead as far as Danny knew, but with all the craziness he’d already experienced in his own life, he wasn’t surprised. Though it was interesting that Hood had been exposed to ectoplasm afterward. What would that make Hood? A liminal, or a halfa like him? But as much as Danny would like someone else like him, since it wasn't ectoplasm that brought Hood back the man was probably just a liminal.

“Here you go, Danny.” Jazz said, setting a mug in front of him and then taking a seat next to him.

Danny inhaled the warm scent of spices and then looked at Hood. “So, how do you want to do this? I can do a quick info dump and then you ask questions, or you can just ask questions and I’ll answer them?”

“Info first, then I’ll ask questions.”

Danny nodded.

“First of all, ghosts are real.” he paused, but when Hood didn't say anything he continued. “They live in an alternate dimension and are fueled by and made of ectoplasm, the green glowy stuff. There are various things that can make a ghost, but we don’t need to get into that now. This is just the basics. When a human has a near death experience, or is exposed to ectoplasm they have the chance of becoming what we call liminal. That just means that they lean a little toward the ghostly side.” he glanced at Jazz, his gaze questioning and she nodded. “That’s what me and Jazz are. And that’s what I think you are.”  Danny waited for a moment, clasping his hands together in front of him. “Any questions.”

“How did you heal me?”

“Oh, yeah.” Danny shrugged and sat back. “As liminals we actually need some ectoplasm to survive and it can help heal us. Usually, the ectoplasm in our bodies heps us heal ourselves, but I think yours can’t since,” Danny wrinkled his nose, “whatever source you got yours from is obviously rank.”

“What does that even mean?” Hood said, but he sounded tired not angry.

Jazz smiled gently at him. “Ectoplasm that stays too long in the Living Realm, here, can absorb pollutants. Think of it like,” she hummed and tapped her finger against the table, “like air in an improperly ventilated area. If air isn’t allowed to move and flow it can become stale. The same with ectoplasm. It’s a form of energy that needs to flow and be filtered in the Infinite Realms, where the ghosts are, or it needs to be filtered by ghosts. But if it’s allowed to just sit in one area and build up, continually absorbing energy, but unable to filter or release it then it grows rank.”

“It’s complicated.” Danny said. “And neither of us is the greatest at explaining since we’re still learning. But yeah, ectoplasm is a form of energy that flows between dimensions.

Danny smiled at Hood, there were faint feelings of confusion, disbelief, denial, no true, not true, I’m alive. But Danny did his best not to push anything toward the other liminal. He didn’t want to scare the man.

“I need to go.” Hood said, standing abruptly. 

Danny startled, but nodded. “Yeah, of course.”

Jazz stood. “You’re welcome back here anytime if you have questions.” Jazz smiled. 

Danny felt the briefest glimmer of attraction come from Hood and while Jazz was good at not projecting, Danny could tell from her face that she was feeling similarly toward Hood.

Danny smirked. This would be fun.

[diabolicalworldwriter]

Oathbringer chapter 15, basically:

Adolin: We need to talk about a difficult topic.

Shallan: OH NO HE'S BREAKING UP WITH ME!

Adolin: You know how I had you try spicy food?

Shallan: .... Oh storms oh no he's going to ask me about me murdering my parents!

Adolin: You have a sword! I have a sword! We can be sword buddies now!!! Yay!!!

(I just think it's really silly that Adolin wants to teach his gf how to use her magic glowy weapon, leads into it by bringing up spicy food, and she assumes it's about parricide. Adolin: you know how food can be hot? Shallan: is he about to say he doesn't think I'm hot anymore or is this a lead-in to how hot the tears were on my face as I sang my father to death? Adolin: knowledge of the blade is also very hot. Shallan: Oh. Oh, what?)

[redhoodinternaldialectical]

Thoughts on Jason Todd’s choice of weaponry?

:D an ask! Yay!

Oooh, lets see, I'll start with the crowbars because I appear to be like one of three people on the entire planet who actually likes them.

They're a tacky as fuck riff on the fact that Jason's death is central to his character. They overemphasize the manner in which he died, muddy the waters about what part of his death is important to him, and strangely cheapens the manner in which he died through the parody feel of it.

No one seems to really disagree with my analysis here, but I happen to enjoy that about them and think it's very on brand for Jason. What can I say? They're fun!

Best Quality - His Wiggles

This ultra-sharp curved blade used to be his signature character design feature, the way the white streak in his hair is now, and I'm really not sure why it didn't stick!

Best weapon he's ever had, bring it back please!!!!!

The All-Blades

hmmmmmmmmmmmmmm....

HMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM...

I have mixed feelings about the All-Blades. Like much of Lobdell's work: phenomenal idea, poor execution. Giving the guy who is most known for being morally grey a set of powers that is exclusively based on moral absolutes sucks shit, I gotta be honest, and the trick he pulled on the blood blade was cool but ultimately does nothing to solve those problems.

HOWEVER

I want to love them so fucking badly. A set of glowy soul blades is a dope sicknasty off the chain concept and I wish the well wasn't poisoned with the moral implications and the restrictions to use them only on the "Untitled", a set of enemies that only exist for Jason so far as I can tell. If someone seriously took Jason down a magic based path that removed the DnD alignment chart bullshit, I would be so game to see them come back! Hell I wouldn't even insist on a better cooler design for them!

...though uh, yeah those are the least interesting magic sword designs I've ever seen tbh

Normal Ass Swords

They're alright I guess. Like, there's nothing in it really, but it's not bad?

Guns - Real Bullets

Excellent, evocative yet simple, straightforwards and to the point. It makes hella sense thematically to boot, love this for him, please give him back his pistols and miniguns and shit

Guns - Rubber Bullets

Hate. HATE. hate ick disgusting bad NO.

I just fucking hate rubber bullets, like, as a concept. I refuse to accept "non-lethal" bullets as a valid use of gun, either in real life or in fiction. Guns are for putting many holes in things very fast!!!! If you're gonna use a gun, fucking well own up to that!!! Do not play this silly ass game of pretending that you can change out the material and do the same things as with lead bullets but with the video game status effect of "non-lethal" applied. YOU ARE GIVING PEOPLE SMALL CIRCULAR BRUISES. This is still harmful, yes, ooph ouchie, but it is not even slightly a good use of a gun, you are wasting holster space, and carry weight, and the physical materials used to make it all!!

JUST USE A FUCKING STICK! YOU DON'T RUN OUT OF STICK AMMO!

My belief in his capacity to take out enemies is shattered the instant those fuckers are on panel. Maybe this ain't entirely rational, or realistic to how fights go with rubber bullets IRL, but I hate them so much on principle that I will ignore any counterargument you might have that they'd work. I will die on this hill. Rubber bullets BAD. Please stop making him use this!!

Bombs

Love it, give him more bombs forever

ka-BOOM!!!!

His Brain

This is actually his best weapon - sorry wiggly knife, you're being shunted down to number 2 on a last minute technicality! I think Jason is at his best when he's outsmarting people and making long term fucked up schemes to ruin people's lives.

He's so good at it! It's so fun to watch him do it!

Genuinely a shame that this facet of him was mostly lost after Flashpoint, though to give credit where it is due, in Rebirth Jason did ruin the Penguin's life in an impressively elaborate way, which I did really enjoy. I want to see him be a tactical deliberate menace to one person in specific again idk, that's part of why I do kinda agree that he works better as an antagonist than a protagonist - which it should be noted does not mean I think he works better as a villain necessarily, his ethics aren't what matter here - he's just had his best moments as the schemer, and it's hard to have a protagonist schemer even when you make them ethically the good guy.

I hope you enjoyed my nattering on about Jason's weapons :D thank ye again for ask!

[cambion-companion]

I cannot concentrate on my work (ironically as a TA writing up my phd thesis) because I read your intelligence 8 tav x raphael fics and now I am shaken to the core and all I wanna do is daydream about being a clueless little slut in the house of hoep

please saer can I have some more

hahaha I'm so glad that brain worm took root, intelligence 8 Tav is delightful. I also wanted to incorporate this lovely ask as well and express my gratitude for the support you all have given me this month. All is well! Enjoy a drabble with a Tav/reader utterly oblivious to the true nature of a cambion...to them he's just a tiefling with wings! how cool!

Raphael + reader (gn) drabble

(I'll probably write another that's more romantic/cute but this was too funny to pass up)

"You have an uncanny talent at getting into the most outlandish situations." Raphael pinched the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger, inhaling a deep breath.

You looked around at the decadent room he'd rented for himself, steam rising from two baths and flower petals ornamenting the lush red carpet. "I wouldn't think a devil-guy would be the sort to have tulips thrown about."

"Roses." Raphael corrected, his hand clasping firm about your upper arm just in time to save you from slipping on the wet tile and braining yourself. "I would wager a hefty sum of gold your mind does not entertain too many thoughts at one time."

"Thank you." You murmured, touched. You allowed him to escort you to safety upon a chair and watched with vague interest at how his lips twisted in bemusement. "I should thank you for saving my bacon back there. Wasn't expecting to survive that. But Shart always gets Withers to bring me back when we run out of those glowy scroll things."

"I do believe I sense a migraine coming on." Raphael squeezed his eyes shut briefly before crossing to pour you both a glass of dark brown alcohol.

You took the fancy crystal glass and downed the drink with gusto, only realizing your mistake when the scorching whiskey had passed into your gullet, and you burst into a coughing fit. Raphael sighed and gave you a solid couple thumps on your back as you struggled to breath. "There now. Death by imbibing spirits too eagerly is no way to enter the afterlife. Not until you've served your purpose, at least."

"What?"

"I'm concerned for your well-being, dear."

You wiped your eyes with your sleeve. "That's really nice of you, Raph." He winced at the nickname but just barely managed to keep a pleasant neutral expression. "I don't know why everyone else threw such a fit about you, you're not a bad dude."

"I'm flattered." Raphael almost felt a sense of annoyance at how easy this was. He enjoyed a challenge, and this mortal was certainly not bringing it. He drained his glass fluidly and returned it with a clink to the table. "Now, your person is more or less stable for the time being."

You looked around, checking behind you. "What person?"

"Your body has been plucked from the peril you so naively flounced into." Raphael clarified, a slight edge to his words now, he was running low on patience. "Be a good mouse and run along, fetch me the crown and we can part ways amicably."

"I never imagined mice to be much good at fetching." You mused, rising to your feet as Raphael practically pushed you from his room. "That seems more a dog's forte. Oh, we have a most wonderful dog back at camp-"

The door closed in your face, so close it almost clipped your nose. You stared at the dark wood for a moment, then smiled and shrugged. You spoke a little louder so he would be able to hear through it. "His name is Scratch! What was I saying? Oh yes, dogs fetch crowns and balls better than mice! Maybe keep that in mind when giving people animal nicknames!"

No answer.

He must have gone to take a nap. You were sure cambions probably did that often since they seemed to act much like cats in every other way.

Smiling to yourself you departed, convinced that you and Raphael were now bosom friends.

[blackjackkent]

Prompt fill for @astreamofstars from this ask for this prompt meme. Karlach - "It is my fault, I think, that you have forgotten to fear me."

-----

“Oy, who’s the glowy bitch by the door, then?”

Karlach knows better than to bother looking up when the fresh-meat greataxe grunt starts talking, down the barracks a ways. This shit isn’t new. They always like to talk, the new arrivals to Zariel's army. And as soon as they see Karlach, no other topic will do.

Fair play enough, after all; she does kinda stick out. There's nobody else like her in the platoon, or in the whole army. In the eight years she’s been here, nobody else has ever gotten the tin can stuck into them and survived. She’s special, as Zariel likes to assure her, though special has never bought her anything but more blood and death - and the attention of every ignot who want to pick a fight.

Today’s mouthy prick is a draegloth, which explains why he’s talking a big game. A dogskull’s almost as unique as Karlach is around here; makes sense he’d pick out a target fast before anyone can pick him out for an asskicking.

“Oh, that? That's Cliffgate,” says another voice. This one Karlach recognizes - Namtar, a cambion, one of the platoon sergeants. He and Karlach have butted heads before, because Namtar is a rotten pissant. “Zariel's little kiss-ass. No heart, just an infernal engine in her chest.”

"No way," the draegloth says. "That's the Demonsbane? A ruttin' tief? Not even hellsborn?" He laughs sharply. "Lettin' in all sorts these days, uh?"

Karlach ignores the mocking words, focusing on choking down the tasteless morsels that pass for rations around here. The bunk across from her creaks unhappily as weight hits it.

“They're talkin’ about you, Dart,” Flo says with a nasty grin, settling onto the bed and lounging back against the wall. “Gonna sit here and take it?”

Karlach sighs. She picked up the nickname around her second week in the Hells, and it's never once been meant with kindness. Even Flo says it with a nasty edge, and Flo is the closest thing she has to a friend.

Good reminder, I guess, that no one here really gives a fuck about me, no matter how much I might like to pretend. Even after eight years, she can sometimes, if she squints, convince herself that there's camaraderie here, like there was in Gortash's old crew before he sold her out. But it's vain hope, a desperate attempt to pretend this place isn't rotting her fro the inside out; the illusion never lasts long and always just leaves her feeling lonelier.

"If it's not them, it'll be somebody else," she says noncommittally. "Lemme eat my dinner in peace."

"Nawww..." Flo says, comfortably dismissive. "C'mon, Dart, give us a show. Been too long since we had a proper scrap in here besides the piece in your chest."

Karlach laughs softly in spite of herself. It's a pretty weak pun, but the jokes in Avernus are as bad as the food. "I'm wore out, Flo," she says, shaking her head. "Leave off."

She looks up to find Flo's smile has turned a shade more brittle. "C'mon, now, Dart," she says, and there's a warning note in it now. "Y'know I can't be seen bein' friends with a softy. Give us a show, I said."

The message is loud and clear, as it always is. My friendship is conditional. And you'll do as I say, 'cos you *don't* want to be my enemy. Now dance.

Karlach huffs out a weary, flame-hot breath and tosses aside the last bit of her ration pack uneaten. With a groan, she pushes herself to her feet and strides down the barracks corridor towards Namtar and the draegloth.

"Hey, there she is." Namtar looks up with a lazy grin as she approaches. He's flopped on his bunk with his boots off, his wings furled neatly under him and feet up on a stack of equipment piled at the foot of the bed. "How's tricks, Dart?" Before Karlach can respond, he shoots a conspiratorial glance at the young dogskull. "Y'know why we call her Dart, Markos?"

The draegloth -- Markos -- looks puzzled. "Why?" he asks.

"Dumb-Ass Rusty Toaster." Namtar brays with laughter so hard it shakes the bed a little. "Fits, too, cos all she's good for is throwing at things t' poke holes in them."

Markos snickers loudly. Several more of the platoon have picked up on the conversation; smelling blood in the water, they've started to circle up, leaned casually against the walls or peering over the edge of their bunks. Some of them are grinning, enjoying watching the Demonsbane get a dunking. Others - the smart ones - are eyeing Karlach warily. She hasn't said anything yet, but her eyes are smoldering. In spite of herself, the rage is building. 

She doesn't want to fight them. She never has. She's always been loyal, and even in this bitch of a place, even under Zariel's thumb, she'd have fought hard for anyone here who wanted to fight for her in return. But that's never made the slightest bit of difference, because everyone here is a fucking tosser.

Hells. Maybe, when you come right down to it, so am I.

And that, really, is what enrages her, far more than these empty little insults.

"Y'know," she says slowly, looking the draegloth up and down. "I expect this sort of crap from the fresh meat. A mouth spewing shit 'cos you haven't learned to shut the fuck up yet. But you--" She turns her gaze slowly and deliberately to the sergeant. "Eight years it's been, Namtar, and neither of us dead yet, so you'd think you'd have figured out not to mess with me." She lets a slow, feral grin curl across her lips, and there's a ripple of anticipatory mumbling from the gathering crowd around them. "My fault, I guess, that you've forgotten to be scared of me. But I can fix that."

She moves suddenly, with no windup, her fists and feet all shifting at once. Her left fist crashes into Markos's jaw, knocking him back into the steel frame of the bed behind him; his skull ricochets off it with a metallic whingggg as his skull ricochets off the metal. With her left foot, she kicks behind his knee while he's unbalanced and fully flips him sideways. As he bounces back from the bedframe, he goes careening onto his front, his nose crunching into the stone floor.

Meanwhile, her other hand grabs Namtar by the collar and drags him out of his bunk. He has almost two inches on her, but she lifts him with ease one-armed, the engine roaring in her chest and sending energy coursing through her bicep. Spinning out of the kick at Markos, she slams Namtar into the wall, then releases her grip for a split second, only to refix it tightly around his throat before he can fall.

All of the cambion's bravado has vanished. His eyes are wide and brilliant white in the dark red of his face and he squirms ineffectually against Karlach's implacable grip. His wings, crunched between his back and the wall, struggle feebly. "Oy! Let me go!" he bleats, gripping her hand with both of his and trying to pull it away.

She glares at him. "Maybe. If you want to grovel a bit. Otherwise I'll finally just kill you. Maybe everyone else would finally get it through their thick skulls that you don't mess with me."

He sneers in an attempt at disdain, though it's considerably weakened by the fact that he's now struggling to breathe. "You wouldn't dare."

She laughs humorlessly and leans forward until her nose is nearly touching his, so he can feel the heat radiating off her body and see nothing but the exhausted fury in her eyes. "That really a chance you wanna take, sergeant?"

He hesitates, balanced between his anger and his fear. But something he sees in her eyes must convince him, because the fear wins. "Sorry," he mutters.

"What was that?" she asks coolly. "Didn't hear you."

"I'm sorry," he snaps. "Now let me go."

She could drag it out further, but the whole situation feels sticky as hot tar on her skin, burning down into her bones. Gods, I hate this. I hate all of it. I don’t want to be this thing they’ve made me, but I don’t know how to stop.

She releases his throat with a jerk, letting him slide down the wall to the floor, where he sits clutching at his neck and wheezing. Markos, nearby, is out cold where he hit the floor.

"Good," she mutters. "Just... stay there and shut the fuck up." She doesn't wait to hear what the other gathered soldiers might have to say, but turns and stalks away back down the row of beds towards the other end of the barracks. 

Flo gives her a slow clap as she returns to her bunk, grinning unpleasantly from ear to ear. "Nice one. Damn good show, Dart, just as I asked."

"Shut up," Karlach answers, tossing herself facedown onto her mattress. The engine is still running hot, surging pain through her chest and her head and her arms with the slow letdown of adrenaline; she can smell it searing a scorched mark into the bedsheets. "You too - just... just shut up and leave me alone.”

[ros3kill3r]

angsty & regulus’ death || the letter dorcas received from her first ever friend || part 5 of 8

~*~*~*~*~*~

~*Dorcas Meadows*~

Dorcas never thought that she would live a life without her friends. Those boys. Those boys who always accompanied her everywhere, those boys who never dared to disappoint her, those boys who pranked with her, who danced with her, who shared the best memories with her. The boys who betrayed her, and broke their promise.

But it was fine! It was absolutely fine, because she still had Pandora, and those boys were bad people. They will kill, they will murder, and they will commit crimes. Dorcas is better off without them.

In all honesty, Cas isn’t so sure about that.

It’s been so lonely without them, so depressing. Dorcas doesn’t feel like herself. She feels hollow, in despair, in heartbreak. She misses the comforting laughter of her friends during dark nights in the common room, watching the giant squid glide by the windows. She misses the feeling of rare and meaningful hugs. She misses her boys. Her precious siblings, destined for doom at the end.

Regulus, cold complexion but a warm heart, harsh glares but soft smiles, heated words accompanied by the warmest hands. Regulus, who would find asking for help embarrassing. Regulus, who scolded all of them but laughed behind the scenes. Regulus, who nearly cried alongside the tears of one of his fellow friends. Regulus, who acted so tough, when he was not–just in case Sirius was watching.

Barty, big smiles and small ounces of shame, cold hands but warm greetings, annoying snores with comforting touches. Clingy, but shameless. Loving, but secretive. Dorcas wishes more people could’ve gotten to know him. The best side of him. She wishes they could just understand where they came from, their backgrounds. But no, they judge. They judge without reading the words in the book. They judge by the printed cover.

Remembering the way Barty’s gaze would change whenever Evan stepped into the room was bittersweet. Their soft smiles, soft slide of skin-on-skin, warm hugs and softly spoken words. It filled Dorcas up with love, this new thing between them. She wasn’t used to it, but she knew they needed it. She wonders if they’re still alive. She shouldn’t think about them too much, but she can’t help herself.

And there was Evan. Soft chuckles and loud gazes, quiet nods and hums yet his presence was so there, she didn’t know how to explain him. He was different, carried a different aura, a different energy. All she knew for sure was that if they were straight, she would’ve fallen for him. Flawless skin, perfect teeth, pale glowy skin, slim figure, thin hands, soft locks, deep voices and fragile giggles. She knew why Barty loved him. How couldn’t you?

Dorcas cocooned into the corner of the room, gazing out the window and at Regulus’ star. I miss him the most, I think. She thought to herself. I love them all the same, but I miss him. She didn’t know why, well–she did, but she didn’t know why this sudden feeling of want took over her heart. She closed her eyes, the bright blinking of the star flashing behind her lids.

There came a soft clacking noise from nearby and she cracked open an eye, leaning off the wall in surprise when seeing Regulus’ owl. She stood, walking towards the bird and peering into its wet eyes. She shouldn’t grab the letter. She shouldn’t read it, it’s for the best. She’s gotten enough letters from Barty and enough letters from Evan (a handful, which is quite much coming from Ev), and one single letter from Reg, including this one. Normally, she would’ve ignored the owl like any sane person, but before she could process, the letter was in her hand and the owl long gone over the horizon. She looked up, and Regulus’ star was dim. She furrowed her brows, fiddling with the bent corners of the thick envelope. The star should be the brightest today.

Gulping, she pulled herself away from the window, sitting back down in her tiny corner and glaring unblinkingly at the letter. Laughter at Barty’s jokes, smiles when sharing a knowing glance, hugs when upset, cheering at quidditch, giggles when Potter would stare at him, drama about Lupin being a supposed ‘werewolf’, books being traded between them both, reading quietly in the library while Barty and Evan disrupted peace across the room accompanied with Pandora’s lectures, teasing with crude and dark jokes, memories. Many of them.

She plucked open the poorly stamped wax, her fingers shaking like petals in wind. She tugged out the thickly folded letter delicately, brows scrunched when a separate sheet of paper slipped from between the cracks of the hastendly written letter. She placed that aside, and began to unfold the scrunched up message.

She cleared her throat, blinking with dry eyes, and she read.

______________________

08/01/79

Dear older sister,

If you have received this letter, I am dead. I have told Kreacher to send out all of my letters if I don’t make it back. In all honesty, I always knew I wouldn’t make it back, but I foolishly kept my hopes up. I kept my hopes up that if I went on just a day longer, things would change. But they didn’t. To make sure you read this letter, I have sent an owl to accompany it and bring it to the receiver.

I’m sorry to surprise you like this, especially when we aren’t close like we used to be anymore. I wanted to leave this world knowing the latest memories you have of me are good ones. I know you knew something was wrong with me, and you were right. You always know when something is wrong, and I love you for it.

I hope you never forget me and who I was. I hope when you hear anyone (my brother) speak badly about me you will roll your eyes and defend me. I know you would either way, but it is my wish for you.

Actually, I have a different wish for you when I die. Whenever you stumble upon Barty, Evan, even James, Remus, Lily, and Sirius, show them respect. I want the people I love showcasing love for each other. Even if you must force it.

I promise you, I will be waiting for you all after death. I promise I’ll be here. There is no point anyway in denying everything, I already know I’ll be dead. Don’t ask how, or why I know.

Do not tell anyone what I am about to tell you, but I know how Evan and Barty will die. Someone has told me, but I won’t say names. Spend as much time with them as you can, or at least see them as much as you can. Be strong, nothing will end easy.

I wrote another letter alongside this one. You and Pandora are the only ones who’ve got one. It’s a plan for both of you, just know there is a risk of death.

Maybe in another life we’ll all be able to grow old together as a close group of friends. Inseparable. Maybe in another life things won’t end this way and we could’ve gotten to know each other as much as we could. I face death with the hope that you will all live long and healthy lives, and if not, I fill myself with yet another foolish hope that when we all die, we’ll be reunited.

Remember our friendship, and control your anger.

R.A.B.

______________________

Dorcas shut her eyes tightly, hot tears racing down her chocolate cheeks. She rose up from the floor, knees weak, and she stared upon the star once more. It was dimmer. Fading. But it was still flickering with its remaining energy. He’s not dead, she thought, feeling her heart sink lower down into the trenches of her gut, he’s dying.

She didn’t allow herself to cry. She picked up the other letter, quickly reading the words, Horcrux, spell, potion, death, the dark lord being the only things she understood.

“Panda.” She gasped, clutching both letters and storming out of the room and down the hallway, rapidly clasping onto her bag and rushing to the fireplace. She picked up the floo, and threw it down with an exasperated call of her best friend's location.

Hogsmeade with her friends, Regulus’ swatting hands, Barty’s hyena cackles, Evan’s twinkling eyes, Pandora’s flower crown. Christmas break, Regulus’ eyes filled with dread, Barty pacing the room, Evan sobbing with the mark on his arm, and Pandora nowhere to be seen.

Year 4, Regulus’ transition, Barty’s intrigued stares, Evan’s proud eyes, and Pandora’s knowing smirk. Sirius running away, Regulus’ desperate wails for his brother, Barty’s screaming in fury, Evan’s throbbing headache and pacing, and Pandora’s comforting back rubs.

She landed, nausea stars clouding the corners of her vision. “Panda,” She wailed, collapsing her weight against the door. “Pandora!” she wailed with a scream, scratching the wooden door of the Lovegood residence. Finally, the door opened. And there she was, eyebags and chapped lips.

“Dorcas?”

2 years later, Dorcas Meadows didn’t control her anger after Marlene’s death.

~*~*~*~*~*~

[snowe-zolynn-rogers]

Pairings: None

Word Count: 2,835 Words

Summary: Eclipse's found family finds him.

Warnings: Robot Gore, Injury, Amputation, Cursing, Near Death, PTSD, Panic Attack, Trauma, Surgery, Sibling Bonding, Angst with a serving of Fluff, Bathing Together (platonic, neither have bits down there), SFW Tickling, let me know if I should add anything else.

Found Family

Eclipse groaned pulling himself from the ball pit. What was left of him, at least. His left arm had had the hand ripped off and his right leg was missing from below the knee, his internals were attempting to pour out the deep gashes of claws in his stomach.

His right side upper faceplate had been ripped off along with right eye having been torn from its socket and wires. There was a deep gash down his left leg, leaving the limb half numb. And his chest and back had most of its casing mauled off, leaving his scratched endo and frame exposed and vulnerable.

He’d barely finished crawling his way from the ball pit before he saw a figure standing over him like a sadistic god and the blue he saw told him that this wasn’t the best person to find him this injured.

“So ya fucked up?” Moon asked, crouching before him and Eclipse glared with his remaining eye, this was all Moon’s fucking fault and Eclipse seethed at him.

“I went to kill him and he tried to destroy me!” Eclipse crackled out his half-broken voice box.

“Sad little worm, huh? Welp.” Moon stood up, slapping his thighs as he did so. “That’s a problem taken care of. I’m gonna go out and celebrate. You try to die quietly if you can.” Moon patted his aching head and Eclipse growled to keep him off, attempting to grab Moon’s hand and bite it since it was all he really could do at the moment. But Moon was quicker and got his hand away.

“Hey everyone, I’m buying shots! It’s celebration time!” Moon called through the daycare as he left to the upper level of the daycare as everyone followed him out of the daycare, shutting the lights off as he did so, leaving Eclipse in the darkness with just the ceiling of glowy stars illuminating barely to the top of the play structures.

Eclipse’s engines whirred on high as Eclipse used his remaining hand and the forearm of his left arm to crawl his way away from the ball pit and to the security desk, dragging and pulling down the emergency med kit and haphazardly dumping it on the ground with his right hand so he could get the contents.

His first grab was an ACE bandage, which he tried to put on his stomach with his one hand to some success. It looked sloppy as hell but his insides would stay inside. Eclipse’s processors whirred on max, fans turning slowly because they were half broken so they couldn’t fully cool him down and coolant was leaking out of him, having made a trail from the ball pit to the security desk already.

Eclipse secured the ACE bandage and then began packing gauze into his right knee where it had been ripped off and used another ACE wrap to keep pressure on it so the oil lines wouldn’t be leaking out. He repeated the same process to his left wrist and sighed as he rested one of the instant cold packs onto his processors, relaxing into the feeling of the cold pack helping his half-broken fans to cool him down.

Eclipse saw errors flashing that coolant and oil was low and critical machinery was damaged. Of course it was, he had lost body parts! He growled in annoyance at his creator. They had basically torn him to shreds and Moon didn’t give a single damn about it.

Eclipse hadn’t been able to get a single hit in on them. It had all simply been a blur after they had admitted that they made him and to them attacking him like he was a glorified punching bag. Eclipse hadn’t had a chance to even defend himself and the thought of it, even now, was terrifying.

He shuddered just thinking of the sound and feeling of his wires and endo creaking and cracking when his creator had snapped his right calf off the knee joint and torn it off of him. And the agony of having his left hand ripped off at the joint had been horrifying. The sick crunch the joint had made had made Eclipse throw up. He wasn’t even aware he could throw up, but he had at that sound of his endo crunching and snapping.

Eclipse felt lightheaded, his breaths were coming slower and he knew this was some kind of a panic reaction. Of course he would have a panic reaction. He had succeeded at getting his creator to take out the directives but at what cost? His body nothing more than scrap metal? His mind in shambles and panic? It didn’t feel worth it. Maybe he wasn’t worth a chance.

This train of thought absolutely didn’t help the panic. He was shaking. Why was he shaking? Was the daycare shaking? No, it was him. What was this? Eclipse hadn’t ever felt panic before, not this badly. It felt worse that when he was waiting for Moon and Sun to come kill him. It felt like it was all-consuming and crushing him.

The dark didn’t help either, he hated the dark just like both of his predecessors. He knew there weren’t monsters, there weren’t, but the dark was…scary. It felt like emptiness, like being abandoned again. And it felt cold. He light lights, the stars on the ceiling just weren’t enough light. Especially since solar models didn’t have very much eyesight in the dark. It felt like being stuck into a black box with holes poked in for air but even the air felt like it wasn’t enough.

----------

Blood Moon had finally gone prowling around with Stitchwraith. A joy! Prowling with their acquaintance! It was a ball to finally be out of that bunker place! Blood Moon had begun their prowling in the main entrance and were now going through the daycare, which had its lights off for some reason.

Blood Moon liked the dark, it was a warm place to them, it was comforting, but the sound of staticky sobs coming from the lower daycare wasn’t all that comforting. It was quite annoying actually. They hated crying! Hated it! It was weak!

Blood Moon wanted to snuff out that incessant sobbing and the annoying attendant the crying undoubtedly came from. So they went down to the lower daycare and sniffed around for it. Thankfully, they didn’t have to look for long, finding the sobbing’s source was a curled up and mangled Solar? Was this Solar? No, the dents on the rays and the scratches on the faceplate weren’t present. Could this be…?

----------

Stitchwraith followed Blood Moon to the sound of crying and gave a small gasp seeing the torn down frame of the animatronic they had been slightly amicable with, at least for gaming they had been. But what the hell did Eclipse deserve this for? To be torn to shreds and left to die? He hadn’t even done anything too bad yet, he hadn’t killed anyone at least.

“Eclipse?” Stitchwraith asked, crouching by him but it seemed to go unnoticed. Was Eclipse having a panic attack? “Eclipse, hey.” Stitchwraith knew they’d get hit but they had to shake Eclipse by the shoulder to even get a slight bit of a response.

Once they did shake Eclipse’s shoulder, Eclipse whipped his left arm at them, which was missing it’s hand and was instead bandaged with gauze and an ACE bandage. The hit from Eclipse’s forearm connected with Stitchwraith’s faceplate but didn’t so much as put a scratch on them from how weak Eclipse seemed to be.

Eclipse looked up at them after, eyes wild with panic and pain, breathing going a mile a minute and extremely defensive and scared. Stitchwraith felt Blood Moon tugging on their cloak and waved their hand off to keep Blood Moon behind them. Eclipse was a more pressing matter than answering Blood Moon’s question at the moment.

“Eclipse, it’s Stitchwraith. I need you to breathe slowly for us.” Stitchwraith instructed him. Eclipse’s motors shuddered as he tried to take slow breaths for Stitchwraith. “You’re safe. Can you point to what’s scaring you the most right now?” They asked. Eclipse wordlessly pointed his shaky right pointer finger up at the lights.

“Blood Moon, go turn on the lights.” Stitchwraith instructed the twin hellions, who scampered off to go do just that at his request, the lights turning on row by row until the daycare was illuminated completely, which looked to ease some of Eclipse’s panic.

“Are you able to tell me what happened to you or is it too hard right now?” Stitchwraith asked.

“Creator…mauled me…” Eclipse’s voice was staticky and a weird echoed pitch but he could decipher it still.

“The person who made you mauled you?” Stitchwraith asked to confirm and Eclipse nodded softly. “Why did they do that?” Stitchwraith asked.

“Went to get…directives out…” Eclipse admitted.

“Your creator is a bunch of bull. That’s really all you went to do and he left you like you’re in a scrap heap?” Eclipse nodded and Stitchwraith bristled with annoyance at the audacity of Eclipse’s creator. That was downright cruelty for absolutely no reason. Eclipse didn’t deserve to be mauled over a simple ask like that. The way Eclipse’s simple ask was treated was absolutely bullshit.

“How about this, if you let Blood Moon carry you, I’ll fix you.” Stitchwraith reasoned. Stitchwraith would carry Eclipse back, give Eclipse probably couldn’t walk with a missing leg and fragile machinery desperately trying to escape Eclipse’s frame, but their arms still hurt from Blood Moon using them as a scratching post this morning as if the small bot was a damn cat.

“Okay…” Eclipse agreed and looked to Blood Moon as the red and white faced bot came scampering back down to the lower daycare and sat on the floor, looking over the situation with their head tilted to the side in confusion.

“Blood Moon, you’re going to carry him home. I need to repair him.” Stitchwraith told them.

“Aaaawwwwww, why do we have to carry the Sunman!?” Blood Moon began their usual spiel of complaining about the simplest of tasks. This bot could pick up a full cement truck but complained at picking up an animatronic that probably barely weighed more than them.

“Because our arms still hurt from being used as scratching posts. Now pick him up and be careful. Make sure you keep his stomach level, his internals are trying to be externals.” Stitchwraith sighed. Blood Moon whined a bit more but inevitably picked Eclipse up and thankfully held Eclipse as though he were some princess. It was embarrassing for Eclipse, sure, but it kept Eclipse’s insides inside him.

“Okay, come on, back home.” Stitchwraith told them and began leading Blood Moon back to their bunker and into his lab, instructing Blood Moon to gently place Eclipse on a table so he could work on him. He had most of the parts from misships and scrounging but he knew full well Eclipse would look different than he used to.

“I’m going to turn off your pain sensors but just stay awake and talk to Blood Moon for me while I work on you.” Stitchwraith told Eclipse as he got the necessary parts and tools together to fix him.

“Blood Moon?” Eclipse asked as Stitchwraith turned off the bot’s pain receptors and began to patch up and put on a replacement left hand for Eclipse.

“Yes, unholy creator?” Blood Moon sat like a cat in the chair near Eclipse’s legs.

“I’m not your creator, I never made you. That was…the original me. Before the backup in your head, before I was even a spot on the wall.” Eclipse grumbled.

“So you didn’t make us but you are an Eclipse.” Blood Moon cackled.

“I don’t know what I am.” Eclipse admitted. “I may as well have been made in a fucking petri dish in a lab. I have no clue who I am or what I am, just that I’m here and apparently my name is Eclipse and I’m the asshole everyone hates.” Eclipse huffed as Stitchwraith finished up the hand replacement and moved onto Eclipse’s right calf and foot replacement.

“You are…like us? A copy?” Blood Moon asked.

“An incomplete copy, yes. With directives and pasted memories from other points of view and a creator that rips out my directives and leaves me to the mercy of people who will just let me rot in a hole.” Eclipse was angry but he wasn’t panicking at least.

“We are incomplete as well. Memories from other people and bloodlust enhanced with less free will. Bullshit it is.” Blood Moon grumbled. Huh, odd that the two who hated each other agreed. Eclipse sighed and put his head back down on the table.

Stitchwraith finished replacing his lost calf and foot and moved onto Eclipse’s mauled open midsection and began patching the endo cage that contained Eclipse’s insides that had been ripped open. It was easier here because it was taking out the broken bits of old endo and welding in new pieces of the endo. He was also replacing broken innards as he came across them.

“We’re in the same boat then. I…I could remove it. I think. I have the original’s pasted memories too, I’m sure I could sift through and take out the bloodlust.” Eclipse told him, watching Stitchwraith more than Blood Moon now as Stitchwraith was working of Eclipse’s faceplate, fixing the wires and socket and putting in a new eyeball and replacing the half of the faceplate that had been torn off.

“Take out? You can take that out?” Blood Moon asked.

“I think so. I could try at least.” Eclipse told them, sighing now as the only thing left was his body casing, which was something easy and much less surgical. It was akin to putting on a new outfit to animatronics, especially daycare animatronics, who sometimes had to take off their casing to clean it after days in the daycare.

A calm quiet settled in the lab as Stitchwraith got Eclipse into a purple and white casing, replacing the ribbons on Eclipse’s wrists with new purple ones that weren’t stained with coolant and oil and laid out new pants and a new shirt for Eclipse to get dressed into.

“Alright, go get clean. I have a sanitizing station here, it’ll get you clean. Blood Moon, you need to get cleaned too.” Stitchwraith told him, helping Eclipse stand up and turning back on his pain sensor since there wouldn’t be as much pain to feel. He could fix minor things like Eclipse’s half-broken voice box later. What was important was getting Eclipse to feel better and not take an entire day just to fix him. Plus he didn’t have a new voice box for him just yet.

Eclipse struggled sitting up, his endo aching from what a human would consider bruises. He could feel the stiffness in his new parts and his eye was still adjusting, making him blink that eye more, which was uncomfortable but bearable because he had full sight back again now. He just let Stitchwraith help him to his feet, grateful for the help from his brother? Cousin? Acquaintance, Eclipse was going with acquaintance with the weird family tree he didn’t want to deal with.

Eclipse was passed to Blood Moon so the smaller bot could help him along and Eclipse happily used them as a sentient cane for his new stiff foot and calf that was making him limp a bit  with how little the new ankle could move yet. Blood Moon supported him, which was surprisingly actually helpful.

“But brother goes in the cleaning tube.” Blood Moon and maneuvered the both of them into the tube, helping Eclipse get off his dirty old clothes and Blood Moon threw off his mud covered clothes and stayed with his brother so they’d both get cleaned like Stitchwraith asked.

Blood Moon giggled at the sanitizing mist and roared with laughter at the brushes that came to scrub off the worst grime. Eclipse only needed the sanitizing mist to heat the coolant and oil on him enough to drip off into the drain in the floor. But Eclipse liked seeing his little brother laugh. It was nice to have this moment.

Eclipse never got to have this with…the others. But it felt nice to watch his brother laugh at the brushes going after the ticklish spots on his back. He kind of liked this, it made him feel warmth bloom in his chest that one of his siblings wasn’t scared of him or wishing him death or even leaving him to die.

Once Eclipse was clean, he left the tube while Blood Moon was still giggling up a storm getting scrubbed because he rolled in dirt from what it seemed like. Eclipse pulled on the new clothes and smoothed his hands over them, they were actually comfortable and not itchy like his old clothes. He liked being here. It felt like home.

[diviningrodtv]

Five Rotten Pebbles ref time yay!

So, I realised I probably had enough already existing resources to make a good reference post. Though, I got stuck using the pico8 color pallete for the video there.

✨Notable Features✨

Fluffy ears/balding old man hairline - Due to biological contamination from the creatures the rot cyst ate before his puppet, mostly Wilson, he is now slightly fluffy. He is very annoyed by this fact, do not point it out, do not pet- "Do and call him and 'Ear-terator' >:]"

"Mascara lines" - You know that one graffiti graphic where Pebbles looks like he has bleeding mascara? That. You don't come out looking your best after being eaten alive by a rot cyst.

Outfit - After the rot dug through his chest it was easier just to wear his robes backwards.

Feets - Feets, they're digitigrade and have two clawed toes. He might be taller if he stood up straight too.

Handhandhandhand - He can use every rotten arm of his like a hand, but they only have two clawed fingers and don't have any thumbs. You also won't get infected by rot if you touch him, or if he bites you. Normally he just rests them on his sides and shoulders.

Rotten arms cont* - They're in there. Like, it would fucking hurt and he might bleed to death if you tried to rip them out. After all, they're the corrupted remains of his umbilical arm.

Glowy - His claws and internals are a bright blue, and if you caught sight of him in a dark room, they, along with his eyes and some spots on his ears, would glow slightly.

He also likes to stand up on his rotten arms to scare random creatures he doesn't like. Scavs.

Nom bite chomp - Iterators in this world cannot leave their cans for three main reasons. First, the barrier of genome modification. Second, puppets do not contain enough brain matter to remain sentient when disconnected. And third, the puppet would soon starve to death, as it is incapable of eating. Pebbles, luckily, was granted the solution to these problems in the form of being eaten alive by one of his own rot cysts, yay! Unfortunately, he now has to eat lizards and other random garbage to survive. Someone please get him a kitchen. He does not need to move his mouth to speak, but his voice gets louder when he does, which is ideal for yelling at things. His teeth are black and needle-like, so I would not recommend daring him to bite you.

Other bits n bobs - He's completely disconnected from his systems. No just opening gates, no connecting directly to overseers, or to the communication arrays. He must suffer. Expect to find him struggling to get an overseer to connect every time he needs to send a message. At least he can still read pearls.

If I missed anything you want to know, just send in an ask!

[lennjamin-o7]

Okay, so, (mcd)

Osmp. Techno is a human who lives in the valley of hybrids. He’s living life.

Do people sometimes make comments about humans? About how selfish and cruel and terrible they are? Yeah, but they were hunted, makes sense. Can’t blame them, really. (They’re kind enough to pretend they don’t know he’s human.)

(They forget that he’s human, most of the time)

Things are mostly harmonious until the magical barrier protecting their valley is broken by hunters. Everyone evacuates to the bunker, which is actually really nice. Light is provided by glowy blue crystals in the corridors, there’s public areas like the kitchen, dining area, library, and there’s even private bedrooms.

But everyone is stuck, and there’s a LOT of hunters outside. Sooner or later, they’ll be found, and the bunker will be cracked.

So they look for a solution. In the armory, there’s a few magical tomes, and one of them seems to have the perfect solution (the book is black magic, and black magic always has a price)

Phil and Nikki look over the book as the two who know things about magic. They find the best way to mitigate the risks of the spell, which requires some careful wording about who the target is.

Philza does rounds updating everyone, and meets Techno in his room to tell him about the spell. They’ve selected the words so that it will only target humans. Nikki is setting up the spell now, and she’ll cast it as soon as it’s ready.

Phil is a little confused by Techno’s subdued reaction. But Phil is busy. He doesn’t think about it too hard.

Techno knows this kind of thing, how could he not? In the arena, so long ago, sacrifices happened every day.

Techno remembers the first time he saw Phil, thrown into his cell in the underside of the arena. He’d explained to the winged man the basics of how it worked, the fight for survival.

Only a couple months later, Techno is hurt, the wound infected, and Techno has to explain how the title of arena champion is passed down.

Techno has been champion for a few years, an unusually long time. But that starts to get boring for the audience after a while. So the arena organizers wait until the champion is, hurt, and face them off in a death match against the next best fighter.

Techno knows the next best fighter is Philza. Knows he can’t beat Phil in his current state. He’s glad that someone he knows will be the one there with him. That’s more than he thought he’d have, when the time came.

Philza refuses to accept it, and plans an escape for the championship dual.

It’s not easy, especially with Techno injured and feverish, but they escape and eventually make it to the valley.

So Techno understands sacrifice.

And he’s had a few years of freedom here. The best years of his life.

More than a human like him deserved, really.

Techno asks Phil to stay with him, just until the spell is over.

Phil says no, that as soon as Nikki finishes the spell, he’ll need to scout the area to make sure that it worked. Phil should get back as soon as possible.

Techno tells Phil that he understands, and Phil leaves to go find Nikki.

Techno collapses. He knew it was selfish to ask Phil to stay, but… he didn’t want to be alone. He knew something like this would happen eventually, and everyone had been so kind to let a cruel thing like him live among them.

Huddled in a corner of his room, Techno clutches one of Phil’s feathers close to his chest, and pretends that he’s not alone.

Soon enough, the spell settles over the valley, and Techno can’t seem to breathe. His chest burns, he fights for air, but it’s like the air doesn’t exist anymore.

Blackness encroaches on Techno’s vision. Things feel far away. He’s fallen on his side, now.

The lack of oxygen causes a hallucination. And for a time, Techno’s not there in the bunker. He’s in a bed after he and Phil escaped the arena, Phil is tending to the infected wound, promises of care and safety makes the room cozy, Phil’s gentle touch soothing.

And then Techno is gone.

Phil’s back from scouting, with amazing news. All the hunters are dead.

Now Phil makes his way to Techno’s room, knocks on the door, calling out to let Techno know that he’s back.

No answer. Weird.

Phil gets a bad feeling.

The door’s unlocked, though, so Phil lets himself in. Techno’s kerosene lantern is burning on low, and Phil turns it up to get a good view of the room. Freezes.

Alarm bells go off inside Phil’s head.

Techno is laying in the corner, and his face looks kind of blue, and this isn’t right.

Phil runs over to check on him, but Techno is stiff and cold. It’s too late.

And then it hits Phil. Techno looks the same as those hunters, with the blue tinge of magical asphyxiation. The spell targeted humans. Techno was human. How could Phil have been so stupid? Why didn’t Techno say anything?

The funeral is a couple days later, in a beautiful clearing framed by old oak and willow trees.

Phil remembered when he first brought Techno to this community. He had sworn to Techno that he would be safe here.

Phil was a liar.

Phil never seemed quite right after Techno died. He seemed to forget, sometimes, that Techno was gone.

Often, community members would look for him in the morning only to be unable to find him until later, dirty as though he had been lying on the ground.

One day after a particularly cold night with snow on the ground, Phil didn’t show up.

They found him later that day, Phil had fallen asleep on Techno’s grave, and never woke up.

Wow, friend. I give you permission to send me AU's and you send me something HEARTBREAKING AND BEAUTIFUL..Holy SHIT. That hurts so much. They think of him so much as "one of them" that they don't even realize they have chosen to hurt and abandon him. Holy shit. Damn.

So good, but OW.