#delayed retribution ghost

[opluffys]

Unseen-

somethin quick, posted to my archive, luffys, first. let me know if there are any errors or if it copied weird. pls enjoy :)

tags- semi-public sex, vibrators, closet sex, fem reader.

2.5k words.

-Ghost x Reader-

-smut/nsfw-

Tugging on your black scrubs, you bounced your leg impatiently waiting for the man of the hour. Normally, you were a very patient woman, but when you had a vibrator tucked in your panties and buzzing lowly against your clit, you were eager to get some privacy.

Your leg continued its fidgeting, becoming so exasperating as well as maddening to Soap, who had been sitting next to you, that he had forcefully placed his large hand on your knee, stilling the movements. Having him suddenly touch you almost made you moan, instead letting a small whimper get through your painted lips.

"Quit that." He muttered, not yet removing his warm hand from your knee, even though it's stopped moving.

You didn't look at him, instead starting to worry your lip while solely focusing on delaying your orgasm. Being sandwiched between both Ghost and Soap hadn't been helping you in any sort of way, though.

Once Soap seemed satisfied at your still body, he removed his hand. You felt somewhat saddened at the loss of warmth as well as the light pressure on you.

Realising that you could no longer move restlessly as well as recklessly with Soap next to you, you began to mess with a loose thread on your scrubs. At this point, you were just desperate for anything to distract you from that torturous hum of the vibrator against you.

"Somethin' wrong?"

Soap's voice rang out to you, again. You felt yourself growing perturbed at just how keen he was, but you had to keep up this 'elite' façade.

"No, John. I'm fine." You said, sounding out of breath.

He looked at you, skepticism riddling his stare. You knew he didn't believe you, but you weren't trying to convince him. You were just trying to hold yourself back from throwing yourself over the edge.

You shakily inhaled when Ghost's leg brushed against yours, the cheap club chairs seeming infinitely more uncomfortable than ever before. Not only did you now have Soap's stare on you, but Gaz as well as Ghost.

It seemed as Soap was about to press you further, but the door finally swung open, revealing Price in all of his glory. Boonie hat atop his slightly dishevelled hair like always. You thanked whatever luck was on your side, because it seemed that when Price had emerged, their attention had turned from you to him.

Smiles were seen on everyone in the room, congratulating and lightly conversing with Price. You had already done so earlier when you'd seen him, checking him for injury and fixing whatever had happened to him on his mission.

You sat still in your chair, afraid if you were to stand that you'd end up finishing right then and there, in front of everyone. How fucking embarrassing that would be, but it would at least release you from the continued stimulation on your engorged clit.

But you couldn't take it anymore, standing swiftly from your seat and quickly offering Price your congratulations once again, swapping a bit more banter with him before you excused yourself. You had to come up with a quick lie to make sure nobody suspected anything, so you just said that you wanted to watch out for any patients in the medical bay. It seemed enough for him, so you quickly left.

•

This hallway couldn't be long enough, every slight rub between your thighs had felt like electricity against your skin. It drove you absolutely mad, but you found retribution since you were the one who had gone out with a vibrator in the first place. It wasn't the smartest move on your part, you'd accede to that.

On the way to the medical bay, you were suddenly shoved into a small janitors closet, nearly screaming in surprise until you heard that familiar gruff voice.

"You're not subtle at all." He was ridiculing you, pressing you hard against the wall as his thick fingers dove underneath your scrubs.

You bit back a moan as you pressed your backside against Ghost, feeling his free hand push back against your hips.

"Little whore, you couldn't just ask to be fucked, hmm..?" You heard him fumble with his belt, having your pussy spasm over nothing pathetically at his degrading words. You could barely mumble an affirmation back to him, feeling his deft digits rip your panties at the seams, plucking your vibrator away from you.

"You think this thing can pleasure you?" He asked, his accented voice low and flush against your clothed shoulder.

"No, no... Just you, please, I need it," You begged, your voice hardly a whisper as you stared ahead at the abyssal wall that you were being pressed against.

You felt his thick cock press against your slit, being coated in your excess slick. You whimpered quietly, attempting to push him into your heat by yourself. He seemed to be amused at just how fucking horny you were, already cock drunk off of a garbage sex toy.

"Just me?" He repeated tone mocking while his hand stopping your feeble attempts, "Looks like you were enjoying Johnny touching you. You want him to fuck you?"

You swallowed thickly, thinking of Soap's touch against you as nothing intimacy wise. But you quickly learned that Ghost was a possessive man, and something that seemed like nothing to you clearly meant something to him.

"No." You whispered, feeling your wrists being taken by just a single one of his hands, being tied together with his belt.

"Why don't you just go ask him to just fuck you, love?" He asked, two of his fingers pressing against your wet cunt, hearing you cry in response. "Or maybe," He removed his fingers and pressed his flushed tip against your weeping pussy and began to push in slowly, just until a couple of inches were inside. "you like a crowd?"

You couldn't stop the thoughts that formed in your muddied brain. Thinking of being bent over any surface while Ghost was balls deep inside your heat, your eyes locked on how Soap would be watching your lewd expression, Gaz and Price's gaze on you burning a hole into your very soul.

When Ghost had felt you squeeze his cock tightly, he couldn't stop the wolffish grin that spread upon his features. "That's it, isn't it." He couldn't even conceal the light merriment lacing his tone. "You want Johnny to watch while I fuck you dumb?" He slammed into you at this, hearing you moan loudly, your cheeks wet with salty tears.

"N-no, that's not it," You cried, an embarrassing heat settled on your cheeks at just how dirty your mind was. But you couldn't just quit thinking about how Soap would be watching the two of you, bemusement written across his features, blue eyes attached to you while you would moan Ghost's name like a prayer.

"Good girl, be nice and quiet for me." He praised you lightly as he bottomed out in your wet heat, feeling your gummy walls constrict around his girth tightly. "I don't want to entertain your fantasy, at least not yet." He lowly said, groping the curve of your ass while he pulled out just enough so that his head remained buried inside of you, slamming back into your heat harshly.

Hearing him even fathom the idea of sharing you had you nearly reeling. You never would've thought that he would even think of such a thing, let alone consider the idea. But you really couldn't even form coherent thoughts in your head, everything just focused on how Ghost was ravishing you.

"Fuck, you feel good." He said, his gravelly voice sounding strained as he halted his movements for a second, hearing footsteps just outside the small closet. For a moment, you questioned just how the room had fit both you had the hulking man behind you. You adored it whenever he had praised you, your head swimming as you had repeated his words in your mind even days later. That's just what this man had done to you.

Your moans had gotten louder, feeling his cock brush against every single spot within your core had you sobbing out to him, begging for more. He was already giving you so much, but you were just so selfish and eager for more.

You felt his large palm against your agape lips, pressing down on your loud mouth. "Quiet." You meekly whimpered against his hand, not able to even respond if you had wanted to.

He was stretching you, breaking you open inch by inch. It had hurt, but that pain was so good, that feeling of being so fucking full that it brought tears to your already glossy eyes. It had only fuelled your pleasure.

You cried against Ghost's palm while his cock hung hot and heavy within your heat. Feeling every single vein of his push snug against your most sensitive spots. The only sounds present within the stuffy closet being the slap of his hips connect with your own, his low grunts and groans echoing in the room.

Your dainty hands balled up into fists against the tie of his belt, "Be still for me." He grunted, roughly slapping your ass and hearing you practically squeal at feeling his calloused hand against your soft and supple skin.

He removed his large hand from your mouth, warning you to keep quiet. He then attached his hands to your hips and started to chase his own high, your drooling cunt making a mess all over his cock.

"You're a fuckin' mess," He inhaled sharply as he pushed himself to the hilt, "you like it when I fuck you like this, don't you?" He groaned, his thrusts becoming sporadic as he felt your soft walls fluttering around him. "Yes lieutenant." You breathed, your soft thighs quivering as your slick coated the insides of your thighs and his cock. You felt another abrupt slap at your rear at your saccharine response.

You felt tears swell into your eyes once more, feeling your high rapidly approaching after putting your orgasm off for so long. You had so badly just wanted to finish around his dick, but you knew he wouldn't be pleased with that outcome. So you continued to prolong the ecstasy like feeling that you had so desperately craved.

Just as you had felt his hot and thick length drag against your walls in the most perfect and delicious way. "So good," You mumbled, your eyes almost rolling in the back of your head at the pleasure you were feeling. "you're so deep inside, lieutenant." You whimpered, your expression lewd and embarrassing as you felt his cock kiss your cervix.

Ghost's grip on the fat of your hips had become painful, his thrusts losing rhythm as the sound of your greedy pussy sucking him in filled the closet. "Taking me so good, being fucked like the slut you are."

You could only nod, your back arching more than it already was as your toes curled, and you were about to scream at the top of your lungs as you finished over Ghost. The man was still exceptionally keen, even though his thoughts were clouded by the pleasure you provided, he still had time to clasp his hand over your mouth to suppress your lecherous and scandalous noises.

He stilled deep inside of your velvety walls, feeling you clench over him with a vice grip, a sharp exhale leaving his masked lips while he took a moment to just stay buried in your wet heat.

Ghost's movements picked up once again, detaching his hand from your mouth just has he had done earlier. He had helped you ride out the tidal wave that had been your orgasm. Your hands interlocked with one another, painted nails creating crescent moons in the soft flesh. You tried so hard not to be too loud, as you didn't want some poor unsuspecting soul to wander in and see this lascivious act that the two of you were committing.

You heard him groan deeply as Ghost continued to slam into your warm heat, hearing you try your absolute best to keep quiet. It proved difficult with such a huge cock stretching your insides, stuffing you so full of him that nothing would ever pleasure you again.

He cursed lowly as he felt his cock twitch deep within your heat, showing that he was close to his own orgasm. One of his large hands moved to underneath your uniform and past your brassiere, pinching and groping your soft breasts and hearing you cry back to him. He groaned lowly and pulled out of your cunt, such an easy task proving difficult as he felt your pussy try to keep him inside, your grip on him so tight and snug.

You heard him mutter a string of curses as he pumped his thick and veiny cock, his warm seed painting your backside a pretty white. You felt his cum stick to you and show that he was satisfied, having you sigh blissfully as you moved to attempt to free yourself from the restraints. But a small part of you couldn't help but feel bereft at the loss of him buried deep inside of you.

"Mind untying me?" You said, your chest heaving as you had felt utterly exhausted.

"But you look so pretty like this." He teased, his ungloved hands not making a move to release his belt from your hands.

You huffed in annoyance, trying to stand straight, but your legs buckling weakly, being held up by Ghost. Who had already (somehow) been fully clothed. You looked up into that familiar 'face' of his, dark balaclava blending in with the darkness of the closet. The only light source the two of you had was thanks to the outside light seeping in underneath the closet door.

"How can you even see?" You laughed quietly, eyes used to the dark closet and the little light that had gotten in the room.

"Used to it, love." He replied, and you fought the urge to be deeply impressed by his eyesight, and also embarrassed that he had been able to see you clearly this entire time.

You had remembered what he had said earlier, calling you out on your rogue imagination. Being sat between the two strong men earlier hadn't helped such a situation. You didn't doubt that he had seen the change in your expression as he helped you pull your scrubs back on.

You had been lost in your own thoughts, starting to worry your lip. You had been thinking of what he had said earlier, about Soap being brought in while the two of you had been intimate, and the chance of having a threesome. Just thinking about it had that familiar feeling of wetness bloom between your legs, and it was honestly formidable how he had read you so well.

Looking up from smoothing your uniform, you had seen that Ghost's gaze had never left your tousled physique. You had to conflict with the urge to look away from his stare shyly.

"Were you serious? About what you had said earlier?" You nervously mumbled, meeting his cold stare. He had already known what you were talking about.

"Do you want to find out?"

[thoughtsareclouded]

Naruto Fanfic Recommendations (Masterpost)

There are a variety of ships (some with none). All of the stories have happy (or at least bittersweet) endings. They are not ranked in any particular order, but they are organized by ships (or lack thereof). See the titles for links.

UPDATED 26/12/2022

No Ships

Some Crimes Are Okay If You Mean Well (By Team Kakashi)

The Cure is Toe Beans

I can’t let them see me cry

After a Year, the Consequences Remain

Would You Eat Them with a Fox?

Brother, I let you down

Two Can Keep A Secret

I Died For A Second There

QUIET NAMES

Read Between the Lines (Naruto/Supernatural crossover)

Brightness in the Dark (Naruto/Supernatural crossover)

(you are) the very air i struggle to breathe (Naruto/Yuri!!! On Ice crossover)

Since When Are There Two Potters? (Naruto/Harry Potter crossover)

Dancing the silence down to morning

The Strength of the Wolf is the Pack

trust has no place for secrets

Please, write back

A Thousand Years of Light Between Us (Naruto/Harry Potter crossover)

Lost on the Road of Life

My Fine and Distant Future

Burst the Dams and Start Again

Kurama Apologizes

Ghost Story

Not in the job description

heat wave past noon

KakaIru

Lying is the best policy

Growing old is getting old 

Forgiveness

Howling for You

match made in heaven...?

more important

For as Long as You'll Have Me

Into The Woods, Dark and Deep

Hold Me Close

The Hitai-ate

ANBU in the Bedroom 

Full Moon Bay

Pride, Prejudice, and Plenty of Sex

Lose Control

A Forked-Tongue Tells Many Lies

She's a Big Boy Now

Reclamation

Equilibrium

Killing Me Softly

Careful Words

Mission gone Wrong

Earth Shaker

i lie awake (and pray you don’t lie awake for me)

Mine

Among Him, Bliss

Thought and Feeling Interwound

killing me to love you

The Butterfly

Craving You

Make It Rain

Always Only One Night

But we’re really NOT married!

Hide and Seek

By Blood, Bound

Ebb and Flow

You’re so Pretty, Sensei

Four First Dates

The Demon on your Shoulder

Son of the White Fang

Blood

After the Storm 

Runaway

KakaYama

More Than Puppy Love 

The Heart Honks Three Times

Worthy 

The Journey to Matching

Not That Kind of Confession

Silver Screens Won’t Show Us Here 

making up for lost time

Control 

hold me down. 

Presents

Circadian

Reunited and United

A New Leaf for Yamato

Of Second Chances and Secret Weapons

One disaster less

without restraint.

Hunter's Moon

abuse of power.

3 for the price of 1

happy accidents.

Irresistible

I Spy On The Sharingan Eye

We’re Soulmates

Watchtower

Benefits

Waiting

Saving You

There’s no way he would love me

Beside you (in my bedroll)

In The Blood

KakaGuy/KakaGai

Good Morning!! 

So Screwed.

The Copy-Wheel Curse

Soak

Somewhere Between Retribution and Recovery

either sweet nothings, or nothing sweet

Tatters

Boudoir (feat. Sukea)

Mine and Yours

The Great Green Beast

Testing My Patience (And My Strength)

Love Genius

Delayed (or, Why Kakashi Is Never On Time)

Training Cues

In Camera (feat. Sukea)

The Past is Just That

Love Genius

Camouflage

KakaNaru

More than me

Gentle hand on black fur

Death is Highly Underrated

So take this heart, put yourself in it

Plush

Stamina

H. 

got you (and your monsters too)

Out of Time

Popsicles (Extended)

Perfectly Wanted

avoidance means eventually

A Bit of A Surprise

Remember Me

Lesson No. 3 (or, the one where Kakashi is utterly destroyed) (part 3 of a series)

KakaObi

we’ll make it work

Proper Fuck

Too Close For Comfort

It’s not so bad, and I can’t see at all

Dirty Little Secret

The Promotion

Lord Sixth’s Birthday

A Week in Kiri with the Hound

heat lightning

poisoned at the roots

The Art of Seduction

Catalyst

Surprise

I See You When You Hide

Kamui Blues

Neon Green

Courtesy

Obito for Breakfast

Whipped

A Week in Kiri with the Hound

heat lightning

poisoned at the roots

kintsukuroi

SasuNaru

I’m too young to feel this old

Fragile in Design

lassitude

Breaking him down 

The Trouble with Dating a Werefox

Clone Trouble

Break the Seal

Sharingan vs Shadow Clones

your life is full of turmoil, spoiled by fantasies of who you are

Always Leave a Note

ShikaNaru

Time and Again

YamaGuy/YamaGai

Can’t Steal, Can’t Give it Up (also features KakaIru)

Polyamorous

Savour (multiple ships)

Black and White and In Between (KakaYamaIru)

Intervention (KakaYamaIru)

Birthday Break (KakaYamaIru)

Love Heals Most Scars (KakaYamaIru)

I Love Him, But I Still Love You (KakaYamaIru)

Under the Persimmon Tree

Indulgence (KakaYamaGuy/KakaYamaGai)

Gai Loses a Challenge (KakaYamaGuy/KakaYamaGai)

Tell me I’m yours (when you open the door) (KakaYamaGuy/KakaYamaGai)

Room for Two (KakaGuySukea/KakaGaiSukea - Sukea is a separate person in this fic)

Firebrand (Kakashi/Minato/Kushina)

To Reach This Point (KakaObiRin)

A Little Motivation (KakaObiRin)

talk so pretty (KakaObiRin)

Incremental (KakaObiRin)

One + One is...? (KakaYamaReader)

unconventional (KakaYamaAsu)

How We Get to the End (KakaYamaObi)

The Excavation (KakaYamaObi)

Morning Meetings (KakaIruGuy/KakaIruGai)

Double Trouble (KakaIruSukea)

Tenzou and the Wild Goose Chase (KakaYamaIru)

Original Characters/Reader Insert

The Bug Collector

One + One is...? (KakaYamaReader)

A Helping Hand

[jarienn972]

La Sirena - Chapter Seven

Captain Swan Supernatural Summer

After not getting much writing done over the hectic (and rather awkward this year) holidays, the muse finally returned long enough for me to finish this latest chapter of my @cssns​ story.  (It also didn’t help that my old laptop finally gave out on me so I had a 2 week delay while waiting to get a new one and get all of my files transferred.) This chapter sets up the coming climax as there are only two more chapters planned and as you’ll see by the end of this chapter, it’s not going to be fair sailing for their blossoming relationship. We left off in chapter six with a stunned Killian learning more about Emma's past and the history surrounding the only known human who'd ever been deemed worthy to avoid the siren song. There's still a lot of uncertainty for this pair as confrontation with Regina looms - and things are going to get very stormy.

Thanks again to @kmomof4​ for being an amazing beta and cheerleader and to @courtorderedcake​ for her stunning artwork!  

Catch up from the beginning on AO3 or FF.net or here on Tumblr: One  Two  Three  Four  Five  Six

Pause to Reflect

How does one act upon learning that they might be descended from a deity? Certainly there was nothing about his life so far that would have suggested such a divine lineage could be possible. Liam had practically raised him after their mother's passing when Killian was barely walking. Their father had become an increasingly abusive drunkard, rarely gracing his sons with his presence or assistance. Shortly after Killian's 13th birthday, Liam departed home to begin his new life by enlisting in the Royal Navy. By this time, their father had remarried and his new family became more important than his eldest sons.

Left to fend for himself often, Killian couldn't wait until he could enlist as well - going so far as to lie about his age to join at the tender age of 16 instead of the legal 18. It had helped that his brother, then Lieutenant Liam Jones, was the rising star of His Majesty's Royal Navy. The younger Jones was welcomed with open arms and while life on board a Navy ship in the shadow of his esteemed sibling wasn't particularly easy, it was far preferable to life back home. Killian flourished in his new life at sea and began rising through the Royal Navy ranks himself, but had his success in the maritime realm been a small, random clue from the universe that he was a direct descendant of the god of the seas?

What pure, unadulterated rubbish, Killian thought as he absentmindedly raked his fingers through his dark hair. It couldn't even be remotely possible that he was related to a god.

But then how was any of this real?

Days ago, he'd set out to explore an uncharted, cursed island on His Majesty's orders only to end up being taken captive and losing too many of his men in the skirmish. The pirates who'd abducted him had then sailed away, making the fatal error of venturing into waters guarded by mythical sirens. They were sung to their demise, leaving their treasure-laden ship to run aground and sink into the depths - yet their prisoner survived.

Miraculously, Killian Jones was still here amongst the living. He'd survived the battle, survived captivity and survived the supposedly tantalizing call of the sirens only to find his life in jeopardy once again from those same vindictive sirens?

Bloody hell, Jones… What has your life become?

"...We may not have much time to prepare…," Emma's voice brought him back from his mental wanderings. "Killian? Are you even listening to me? This is quite serious…"

"I'm sorry, Love," he replied sheepishly as he scratched at the week's growth of ruddy, wiry whiskers along his jawline. "I guess I allowed my mind to drift off at the absurdity of all this nonsense. All that I have learned today hasn't exactly been the easiest pill to swallow, you know…?"

"What about this debacle do you need to swallow?" she questioned, not understanding his chosen euphemism.

"Saying that something is difficult to swallow means that it's just a smidge hard to believe. Oy, this has been quite the long week…" He cringed the very moment he uttered those words, chastising himself for using another expression she wasn't likely going to understand. "Nevermind…," he sighed. "Let's just focus on what we need to do at this moment."

"So then you admit that you were not listening?" she scolded him as she placed a woven reed basket filled with a variety of fruit onto the sandy ground by his feet while tossing a ripe fig towards him. Well, maybe she'd thrown it at him, he surmised as he caught the fig mere inches before it would have struck his still-healing forehead. He frowned his feigned displeasure but she ignored him, continuing her instruction. "I know Regina. We aren't going to have much preparation time and you will need your strength, so eat. I'll raise a protective spell around the cavern but it may be of little use against the full council - or against the powers of a god."

"I thought you didn't want to use your magic?" he queried, biting into the sweet fig as she'd ordered. Oh, what he wouldn't have given for a huge slab of savory, tender mutton right now…

"I have no choice. If I can provide you with even some brief protection, then I must. I brought this retribution upon myself the moment I rescued you…"

"Why did you?" he interrupted. "Why did you choose to rescue me? If you were aware of the huge risk you would be taking with that act, why didn't you let me drown?"

Her emerald green eyes cast solemnly downward as she stood in contemplative silence for a moment. "My instincts told me I should," she replied after a long pause. "You were injured and weak and my intuition insisted that I needed to save you. I do not regret my decision and perhaps this is why…" She lifted her gaze to meet his as an almost wistful smile stretched across her lips. "Perhaps you were meant to save me."

"Save you?" This time, he was the one who failed to grasp the intention of the statement, but his query would go unanswered as the cavern was plunged into ominous darkness. The midday sun that had mere seconds ago been reflecting off of the surface of the spring had, in an instant, been replaced by the blackness of midnight. "That can't be good…" Killian muttered as his hand instinctively inched toward the grip of his newly acquired cutlass.

Emma's expression hardened as she swallowed back the awful lump forming in her throat while spinning around to cast her eyes skyward at their narrow view of the heavens through the opening in the ancient lava tube ceiling.

"There is nothing good to come from these gathering clouds," Emma stated as she angrily set her jaw, a scowl now deeply carved where the gentle smile had previously graced her visage. "Stay here - and please, do not disobey my instruction this time. My protective spell will stall their actions but I do not know for how long. Allow me to try reasoning with them first?"

"And then what?" he wondered, tightening his fingers around the bronze cutlass, however useless it may be against a god.

"I wish I knew," she sighed as she unconsciously allowed her fingertips to brush across his forearm, a gesture that left his skin tingling and his heart aching as she sprinted away to confront the ghosts of her past.

***********

Emma couldn't remember ever seeing the waters of her typically serene bay so angry. She heard no birds singing from the swaying palms nor did she sense the presence of any of the local sea creatures. Her marine friends had wisely left the cove to escape the wrath of the gods, but Emma had no such choice. Shedding the linen tunic that would only weigh her down and entangle her fins, she darted to the end of the jetty and dove through the choppy waves. Her human legs morphed into her lithe, muscular tail the instant she submerged and with a powerful flick of her tailfin, she plunged into the depths in search of her sister.

Mocking chatter echoed through the seas and filled her ears but Emma chose to ignore it. Insufferable as she might be, Regina was really the least of her concerns if Triton became involved. She could only hope to plead her case to the council and perhaps they wouldn't be so quick to laugh once she proved Killian was a worthy human, deaf to the seducing siren call. They would have to show him mercy and perhaps then she could appeal to Poseidon's mercies as well to grant the wayward sailor a path home.

Sediment stirred from the ocean floor obscured her sight but she didn't need her vision to sense Regina and the council's presence. It surrounded her from all sides, a heavy weight trying to force her down because while she might still be physically one of their kind, Emma had long ago been ostracized. The oppressive atmosphere she felt here beneath the sea she'd long called home only served as confirmation that she was no longer regarded as an equal.

"Show yourself, sister!" Emma shouted, masking her fear with overt bravado. She'd be damned if she would bow to the council's pressure. "Let us settle this matter right here and now!"

The taunting words and laughter drew closer until Emma sensed the feather-light flick of something against her fin. A slithering tentacle skimmed and then encircled her forearm before Emma wriggled free and glared into Regina's grinning facade. She would have loved to have smacked her sister right out of the ocean with a whip of her tail, but Emma didn't dare waste the energy.

Regina, in her favored squid-like form, whirled around her estranged sibling a few times, creating a mini vortex around Emma's body before swirling to a halt roughly an arm's length in front of the beleaguered former siren. With her human arms, Regina daintily slicked back a few stray strands of ebony curls while adjusting her elaborate coral-studded headdress, gestures clearly intended to intimidate and remind Emma who was in charge here. Emma folded her arms across her breast in defiance, not about to be put off by Regina's posturing but still hoping she could conceal her growing anxiety in front of the council.

The remainder of the council began to appear from out of the blue depths, initially as shapeless blobs that she gradually began to recognize. The sirens took a diverse variety of marine forms, each choosing their preference based on individual strengths and morphing ability. There seemed to be a few new faces on the council, at least some she didn't remember after years of trying to put that chapter of her life behind her. The only thing Emma was certain of was that all seemed to be wrapped up in the same little bubble of disdain. Regina's influence may have been stronger than Emma anticipated.

"Erimetha…," Regina addressed her at last. "You have been accused by this council of sirens of violating our solemn code and aiding a human. Well, not just aiding - harboring. We believe you have allowed that same human to live with you. Did you suddenly feel the need for a pet after all of your years in banishment?" Her insult elicited a chorus of chuckles amongst the council members and while Emma's instinct would have been to snap at her snide remark, she bit her tongue and allowed it to slide - for now.

"As I have stated many times before, sister, I was never banished. You can believe that fallacy all you want, but I made the choice to leave entirely of my own volition," Emma stated.

"Semantics," Regina dismissed the argument with a shrug. "Doesn't change the severity of these violations that you stand accused of."

"I have committed no transgression," Emma insisted, "not that it matters to any of you! Every one of you blindly sings your song to entice those unsuspecting humans so you can appease the gods, but why? You're told that all humans are evil and unworthy to traverse our realm, but have you ever spoken to a human? Ever gotten to know one?"

"We were created merely to pass the gods' judgement upon those inferior beings." The statement came from a council member with flaming red hair who Emma recalled was named Zelena. She also recalled that Zelena was one of Regina's closest allies as the redhead continued speaking. "They all submit to our song and then drown themselves. If this act pleases the gods, who are we to disagree?"

"Even the great Poseidon himself said that those sailors who were deemed worthy would be allowed to pass through our realm unimpeded. Why would he make such a statement if he believed that no human would ever be worthy?" Emma countered, but her words were still falling on deaf ears.

"Please…," Regina chuffed. "No human has been determined to be worthy in nearly a millennium. All have surrendered themselves to our siren song and all have perished."

"Not all!" Emma snapped. "One survived your song. One was immune to your seduction. Perhaps the gods had already determined his worth?"

"So - you admit that you have been harboring a human here with you?" Regina demanded, eagerly waiting for Emma to incriminate herself as her tentacles coiled with anticipation.

"It is of no matter to you," Emma responded. "He still survived. I did not make him immune."

Regina stared back at Emma in disbelief of her sister's bluntness. "That's not possible. No human can be immune to our enticing call…"

"Killian never heard your song, nor mine," Emma blurted out, immediately regretting her utterance.

"Killian, is it?" Regina teased, a stomach churning smirk curling up the corners of her ruby red lips. "You gave your pet a name? Aww… how adorable… How about we go find out just how immune your pet really is?"

With a swish of her tentacles, Regina launched her body upward through the waves with Emma following close behind. They broke through and surfaced almost simultaneously but before Emma could speak, Regina let out a hearty cackle.

"A protection spell? Seriously, Emma, you really need to do better than that," Regina taunted, using Emma's preferred moniker as a derogatory slur. With the faintest wave of her perfectly manicured right hand, Regina's magic cancelled out Emma's protective barrier and a bewildered Killian Jones materialized upon the sandy shoreline in full view of the council. "So, this is your little pet human?" Regina regarded his bedraggled appearance from afar, noting his ill-fitting clothing, tousled hair and scraggly beard. "We're to believe that this pitiful looking thing is supposedly worthy of our realm?"

"Stop referring to him as a pet! He's an intelligent being, just as we are, and he has a name - Killian Jones!" Emma cried out in his defense, uncertain if he could hear their conversation from this distance.

"He's still an inferior creature," Regina scoffed. "Why would I ever believe that this - this scrawny human - could be immune to the call of the sirens?"

"Have the council sing. Sing yourself if you must," Emma offered. "You will all see that it will have no effect upon him. He does not hear the melody - not a single note!"

"Oh, I have plans to test your human," Regina sneered, her eyes narrowing and darkening malevolently. "Lord Triton!" she called out, much to Emma's horror. "Deliver me that kraken!"

[ask-the-riders]

Making Things Right

Pestilence, being his usual goofy, gremlin self, prepared a prank for (probably) Death or Famine, but instead, Retribution was the one caught in it, and there were consequences.

Who knew a harmless, fun little prank could be so devastatingly triggering?

Damnit.

Damnit.

Damnit all.

Retribution growled loudly in agitation, looking at the broken table that now sat beside his chair. He knew Famine could easily fix it, and if that wasn't doable for whatever reason, it could be replaced. He slowly lifted his gaze, his cyan eye lights panning aroung his dimly lit room.

His desk chair had a large crack running down it's backing, all of the books on his shelf were strewn across the floor, some of his blankets and his curtains were torn, and his wardrobe had been thrown open, everything but the Orb of Darkness now scattered across the room. There was a crack on one of his windows and a decent sized hole in the wall, and he absentmindedly flexed his hand, trying to ignore the stinging, aching pain he felt.

Nearly breaking the clasp on his cloak, he pushed it off of himself, letting it pool on the floor before stepping away from it, pressing his hands over his head and grumbling to himself, "Shut up, shut up, I don't care anymore. Leave me be already!" The voice of a child echoed in his mind; it was laughter, followed by, "Wow, look at him! He's crying already! I didn't think he was even capable of FEELING anything in the first place!"

Retribution lowered himself to his bedroom floor, kneeling as he squeezed his sockets shut, "What part of 'leave me be' don't you understand?!" With his eyes now closed, he could picture everything clearly; a warm breeze, causing a soft fluttering of the leaves on the branch of the tree above him. The bark of its trunk dug into his back through his shirt, and he trembled, his sockets wide as he stared in shock and horror at the book that laid on the grass before him. The pages were viciously shredded and torn apart, the remains scattered and some of the pages already blown away by the wind.

His chest was tight, and he was almost gasping for air. He heard children laughing, shrinking back as one approached him and proudly stated, "Geez, no wonder nobody likes you. You're such a freak, Nightmare. Even if you were half as good as Dream, no one would like you!" There was a crack and he cried out, his hands flying up to touch his cheekbone.

The kid who'd approached him shamelessly held up a rock, a malicious grin on their face, "Y'know... the bible talks about bad people being stoned to death. And you're bad. You're evil, actually. Maybe you deserve to be stoned to death." Purple tears began dripping down his cheekbones and he trembled, his voice weak, "Please leave me alone... I won't tell anyone what happened, just go away already."

He was struck a second time, screaming as he pressed his hands over his damaged eye socket, his eye light having vanished and leaving the space empty. He sobbed harder in pain, all while the children continued to make a spectacle of him, and he hated it.

He hated it so very much.

When he killed the townspeople, he felt no remorse, only believing that they finally got what they deserved.

Opening his eyes as he felt a slight squeezing sensation around himself, he tensed. His ghostly tendrils had manifested, and they'd each coiled around him, as if mimicking a hug. Knowing what they were doing, his eyes began to sting and he cursed under his breath. As the first cyan tinted tear rolled down his face, a single tentacle released him, lifting itself to wipe away the tear.

This unusually soft action broke him, and he began to silently sob, attempting to cover his face with his hands and muffle his voice. Death and Famine were out for the day, and Conquest was off tending to her son. That only left Pestilence and War for him to deal with, and while he desperately hoped they wouldn't hear him, he tried to lie to himself, telling himself that even if they heard him, they wouldn't be foolish enough to come into his room without knocking.

They wouldn't come check on him when they were much more content making out in whatever room they pleased. As long as they were together, they didn't care about anyone else.

They wouldn't come check on him when they didn't care.

The rider, through his tears and flickering vision, turned his head, directing his attention to the flag that hung above his fireplace, and he sniffled, frowning deeply; oh, what he wouldn't give to have his dear brother back. Dream knew how to fix everything, and Dream made everything ok. Retribution's soul ached and he couldn't help the faint whimper that escaped him; he wanted Dream right now. Not some reincarnation of him. Not Conquest. Dream. He wanted Dream.

He felt the orb in his wardobe give off a pulse of magic and he drew in a shaky breath, feeling someone's phantom touch ghost along his cheek, followed by the softest of kisses on his forehead. God, he missed Lenore too.

Damnit all.

Damnit all to hell.

His entire body shook as he saw one of the children from his horrid memories before him, pointing and laughing as he sobbed, "You're supposed to be a guardian? That's funny! As if the universe would want a crybaby like you looking after anything!" They began approaching him, he scooted backward, crying softly as he felt his back press against some hard surface, likely a wall or the side of his bed. Maybe his desk or bookshelf, even. He wasn't paying attention.

As the child continued stalking toward him radiating dangerous intent, Retribution sobbed, holding his hands up to shield himself as he pleaded, "Stop it! Please don't hurt me again! Please, I'm begging you, it hurts!" He squeezed his sockets shut again out of fear, visibly trembling as he felt his tendrils fully recoil and vanish, leaving him more vulnerable than before. He felt someone's arms encircle him, one of their hands gently stroking the top of his skull in a comforting manner, and he flinched at the unexpected contact.

He hesitantly cracked his eyes open, a wave of embarrassment and shame washing over him when he saw the familiar black and white fabric of War's scarf, still wrapped loosely around her neck. She gently shushed him, continuing to stroke his head, and he very slowly raised a shaky hand to grip her sleeve. She paused, and he could feel the deep concern and sadness radiating from her. She was actually... genuinely worried about him.

She murmured a soft apology and began to withdraw, but he shook his head, not meeting her gaze as he brokenly begged, "No, please... You can't leave me alone, too..." He hated every moment of this; begging wasn't something he liked doing. If he had to pick a word to describe how he felt about having to beg, he'd say he absolutely despised it.

War let out a soft sigh, her arms once again wrapping around him. He continued to tremble, his fingers twitching as he clung to her, still feeling ashamed of himself. The female rider began to send pulses of soothing magic to him and he drew in a shaky breath, quietly asking why she'd come into his room.

Her voice was soft as she mumbled, gently resting her head atop his, "You called for me, Boss... No matter where we are, I'll be there to follow your calling." Retribution let out a deep sigh, "You don't have to keep calling me that, you know. I'm not your boss. Just call me by my name." Her answer was a few seconds delayed, and Ret blinked as he felt her confusion and uncertainty. Pulling back away from her, he cupped her face, tilting her head down so he could see her eyes, and she furrowed her brow bones, her confusion painfully evident in her voice, "Night...mare?..."

Sure enough, his mark was activated, glowing brightly over top of her normally solid white right eye light. Hearing her say his old name, he flinched, his sockets momentarily widening as he felt his anxiety spike. Attepting to speak past it, he cleared his throat, his voice strained, "No... Not Nightmare. Retribution. Retribution is my name. You know this, War. What's going on with you all of a sudden?"

The female rider blinked and tilted her head, still appearing dazed and confused. He waved her off, now more preoccupied with trying to pull himself back together as he felt a lump in his throat again. There was a soft squeak, and Retribution's cyan eye lights were quick to locate its source; seeing a rather large brown rat peeking at him from beneath his bed, he couldn't help but stare.

He wasn't sure how to feel all of a sudden. Rats were filthy creatures that only served to spread disease, and he wasn't fond of them in the slightest. The one he was currently looking at was easily as big as a typical house cat, and that sent another pang of anxiety straight to his soul. It took a few slow steps closer, squeaking at him again at peering at him through its dark, beady eyes.

The worry that the creature gave off was almost reassuring though; in a way, that meant it wasn't here to cause trouble, at the very least. It padded even closer, stopping only a foot or so away. Retribution took a deep breath, very reluctantly offering the animal a hand to sniff. As it registered his scent and fully recognized him, it pressed its head into his hand and proceeded to lay down, its tail curling around its body.

And then its ever-delightful owner (of sorts) appeared in his doorway, pushing the door open without even a single knock. He lacked the decency, so his intrusion wasn't all that surprising. He wore a look of clear confusion, calling out to the oversized rodent, "Rem... Remy, what are you doing in here? I thought I told you to..."

He trailed off, falling silent as he spotted Retribution sitting on his floor while War clung to him. One of his arms was around her, clutching her shirt, while his other was down by his side, his hand frozen in mid stroke as he pet Remy. Strolling further into the room and catching a glimpse of Ret's tear stained face and immediately noticing how tense he seemed, Pestilence sighed softly and tilted his head, his tone just as light hearted as ever, "Alright, edgelord. What's going on now?"

Retribution scoffed and narrowed his sockets, "Do you actually care, or are you just sticking your nose where it doesn't belong again?" Pestilence seemed taken aback, arching a brow bone at the other's tone, "Uhh... Maybe because I actually care? I know I'm not always the most pleasant person, but that doesn't mean I'm incapable of being concerned about you, Ret."

Retribution huffed, and as he tried to pull his hand away from the animal at his side, Remy squeaked in protest, his small, almost hand-like front paws reaching out to grab onto one of Ret's fingers. That gesture, paired with the verbal confirmation that Pest cared about him to some degree, and the way War was nearly petting him seemed to break something inside him.

Full of shame and self loathing, he sniffled, glaring weakly up at Pestilence as he began to cry again, "You should know what the problem is! You shouldn't have ever set up that stupid gag! If you just left me alone like I asked, we wouldn't be here right now!" Pestilence was silent for a moment, before a look of realization crossed his face and he winced, his brow bones knit as he frowned, "Oh, that. Shit, sorry Ret. I didn't think it'd do this to you."

The former prince trembled, his shoulders shaking as he sobbed, "That's your problem... You never fucking stop and think about things, do you? The only things that ever occupy your mind would be your disgusting rats, and when the next time you'll get to put your hands on War might be."

Pestilence sucked in a deep breath, trying to stay as relaxed as possible despite Retribution's aura very gradually becoming heavier. As he responded, he spoke slowly, careful of his wording, "Maybe that's what it seems like, and I can't blame you for being under that impression. It's not true though, I swear. There's a lot going on in my head, that you don't know about. A lot of stuff that I don't say anything about because it hurts me when I think about it too much."

The shorter of the two guys chuckled, the sound almost bitter and mocking. He rolled his eye lights, "Oh, like what? The fact that all those years ago, you failed as a doctor and hurt more people than you helped? Or could it be the fact that your perfect soulmate here is the one who aided in the destruction of your AU, leading to the death of your brother?"

Pestilence shifted his gaze to War, who was very slowly beginning to come out of the mental haze that she'd been in. He sighed and looked back to Retribution, "If you think I don't know she was involved in that, you're mistaken. I'm well aware that it was her, Ret. She was younger, in a bad place, and while yeah, it hurts to know that she didn't tell Error off and just walk away, I love her. She's my everything now, so I forgave her. Her past actions do not determine the sort of person she'll become later on."

He paused, offering the other a small smile, "That's what you're supposed to do, when you love someone. You forgive them. You don't have to forget, but you can forgive." Retribution stared at him for a moment, clearly unsure what to say. As Pest began to approach him, the former prince's sockets narrowed in distrust. He watched as the other momentarily paused, removing his sash and placing it on his bed, and soon after, his syringe gun joined it.

Pestilence was entirely disarmed now, which was meant to help Retribution relax a bit. Ret was assuming that much, at least. He wasn't sure what Pest's game was, but he wasn't buying into it for a single second. As War's head finally cleared enough for her to start acting like her normal self again, she realized the position she was in, quickly piecing together what could've happened.

She met Pest's gaze with a questioning one of her her, and he merely shrugged in response before gesturing for her to move closer to him. As she moved, Retribution kept his sockets narrowed, still watching both of them closely. The pair of soulmates lowly mumbled to each other for a moment, before War nodded, smiling softly up at Pestilence. He delicately cupped her face, leaning closer to press his teeth to hers. Her cheekbones dusted a soft shade of blue and she reciprocated, almost appearing disappointed once he pulled away from the exchange.

Of course, Retribution could feel her disappointment. He could also feel her worry, paired with hope. What she was hoping for was beyond him, though. Approaching Retribution again, War knelt, gently scooping up the large rat who'd remained at his side. Standing up again, she cradled the creature in her arms, almost amused as it made a series of sounds at her. She opened a portal back to her room and stepped through with Remy, both of them disappearing.

Almost as soon as the portal closed behind them, Ret's soul was captured by Pest's magic, and he growled in annoyance, "Pestilence, what is the MEANING of this?! Let me go right now, or so help me-" Pestilence calmly tilted his head, sighing softly and cutting him off, "You'll what? Kick my ass? Kill me, maybe?"

The former prince scowled at him, a momentary look of surprise on his face as the other's magic lifted him to his feet. Pest seemed completely at ease, a lot closer now than he was before. Retribution stared up at him, radiating nothing short of hatred, and Pest's brow bones became knit in... was that... regret that Retribution was sensing?

Pestilence took a deep breath, "Listen, Ret... I haven't been too nice to you. On occasion, maybe, but I haven't treated you with the respect that you deserve. And... I'm realizing how uncool that was. Especially today, with how that prank backfired and triggered you." Retribution stared at him, clearly skeptical; where was the punchline? This had to be some sort of cruel joke and nothing more.

.....Right?

Seeing the look on the former prince's face, Pest offered him the smallest of smiles, the grin itself holding a hint of remorse, "Buddy, hear me out. Please. I know you don't trust me, and you likely don't believe a single word I'm saying. You hate me, I get it. After all, I hate me too."

Retribution scoffed, averting his gaze and begrudgingly mumbling just barely loud enough to be heard, "You never apologize for anything. I don't understand why you suddenly felt the need to say sorry." Pestilence rubbed the back of his skull, appearing a bit awkward and much less cocky than normal, "I'm apologizing because I could tell how badly that prank... went wrong. I never meant for it to hurt ya like that, honest to god. If I knew that'd happen, I wouldn't have done it. I was given the run down on your story by Death a while ago, but I was never told the full extent of things, and I didn't think that prank would be something that'd set you off."

He paused, letting out a deep sigh, "From the looks of it... Things were hell for you, back where you came from. I dunno the details, but that's gotta suck, and I'm sorry I haven't been kinder." Retribution, upon hearing the other's words and beginning to make sense of them, frowned, his brow bones knit as his hands curled into fists down by his sides, "...Yeah... That's one way to put it, I guess..."

Pest tilted his head, also frowning at the look the other rider was wearing. Without a hint of mockery anywhere in sight, he spoke, "Do you... maybe wanna talk about it? It might help to get it off your chest, y'know. I'm all ears, in a uh... matter of speaking." Ret rolled his eye lights, "Oh, please. I know you, Pest. You'd just use whatever I say as material to pick on me with in the future." The taller of the two was silent for a moment, before his soul suddenly manifested, floating just outside his chest as he carefully cradled it in his hands.

Ret made a face, confused again, "What are you doing now?" Pest's magic suddenly released him, and he blinked as Pestilence offered the other his soul, "Here. If you don't trust me and think I'm just bs'ing you again, you can look at my soul for confirmation. Souls don't lie, so there's no way I'd be able to pull a fast one on you."

The former prince regarded him with clear suspicion, very cautiously taking his soul into his hands and looking at it for a moment. When it became obvious that Ret had no idea what to say, Pestilence reached out to gently place a hand on his shoulder, "Hey... It's ok, I promise. If you wanna get anything off your chest, I'm here for you. If you'd rather not, that's fine too. No matter what is said or done, I won't go around telling people about it. I wouldn't be a jerk and talk shit or anything about you either, I swear on my life."

The shorter watched Pest's soul, and when there were no telltale signs of deceit, he glanced at the other's hand on his shoulder, his gaze slowly falling to the floor as he mumbled, "I... It was awful. The only reasons I even bothered trying to be good were because I knew Dream would like that, and because I wanted everyone to see that they were wrong about me. That I'm not bad or evil, that I'm not some kind of freak... I'm not any of those things. I was demonized... simply for existing."

His shoulders sank, and he paused, attempting to keep his emotions in check, "They... hurt me really bad. Repeatedly. They said horrible things to me, and if they wanted entertainment, they would come after me, destroying the few things I had and then beating me. Because of them, I was blind in one eye for a while. It gradually healed, but they only used my injury as fuel, saying that I was hideous and deformed, and that it'd be impossible for anyone to even consider liking me while I looked like that. I never did anything to them, so I don't understand why they decided I was the one who had to be singled out like that."

Pestilence unconsciously curled his own hands into fists, beginning to hurt for Retribution. The former prince looked up at him, his eyes wide and holding a desperation that Pest had never seen even the barest hints of before, "It was hell, Pest. Why do you think I do better on my own? Why do you think I try so hard to avoid others? To stay away from them and interact as little as possible? EVERY interaction I can ever remember with anyone aside from Dream and Lenore led to some sort of pain or humiliation. I cannot deal with that anymore. It's shameful and it hurts to have to say it out loud, but interaction with others has caused me so much pain that I hide from it as much as I can."

Pest's frown deepened as a cyan tear rolled down Ret's face and he whispered, "I loved everyone, but everyone hated me... They made me believe I had no hope of ever being loved, and that I wasn't worth it. I don't... I still don't know what I did to deserve such horrid treatment." As more cyan tears began to drip down Retribution's face, Pest's frown shifted into a scowl and he growled softly in irritation, "....That's such bullshit. Complete, utter bullshit. I'm sorry for this sudden change in my demeanour, but I'm mad. I'm pissed. How could anyone let that happen? You were just a kid, you should've been running around, playing games and laughing. You should've been happy and cared for, Ret. You absolutely did not deserve any of that, I swear to god. Don't ever think you did something wrong to deserve that, because you didn't. You didn't do a damn thing to them. They were assholes, plain and simple as that."

Retribution pushed Pest's soul back toward him, returning it to its proper place before he began to tremble, choking back his sobs and trying to hide his face. Pest let out a deep sigh, issuing the other a warning, "Buddy, hey. I know you hate me and all that, but I'm gonna hug you, whether you want me to or not." Ret made a soft sound in weak protest, and Pestilence rolled his eye lights, yanking the other closer and pulling him into a tight hug. Despite the warning, the former prince's eyes widened, and as soon as Pest began using soothing pulses of his magic to try to offer a bit of comfort, Retribution finally cracked.

Tightly hugging Pestilence back, he began to sob much harder, his entire body visibly shaking. Pest stayed quiet, patiently waiting for the other to rid himself of as much of his pain as he could, and Retribution appreciated the silence. For once, he wasn't wishing Pest would leave. As he thought about everything harder and connected the pieces, he murmured, more to himself than the other, "...It's ok now... I finally understand. It's not that you can't deal with interaction and other people. It's that no one took the time to deal with you. At least... not in the way they should've."

As the former prince's sobbing began to die down, Pestilence mumbled softly, not wanting to startle him, "Would you like me to get Fam or Connie?... I know you're a lot closer to them than you are to me, so..." Retribution shook his head, also speaking softly, "No, don't bother them. They're working, and I don't want them to get in trouble." Pestilence nodded in understanding; even if Ret just said no, Pest would most definitely be sending one of them a text or calling them soon.

Pest was silent another moment, before humming, "Actually... I think their shifts are almost over, now that I think about it." The former prince seemed to perk up a small bit and the taller of the two lightly patted his back, before beginning to pull away from the hug to glance around the room, "Only drawback though. While Fam probably wouldn't care, Connie might ask about your room and why it looks like someone let loose a pack of wolves in here. Unless you wanna go through all that pain and yuck again, you might wanna clean it up a little. At the very least, hide the mess somewhere she won't see until you feel more like taking care of it. I'm not much into cleaning, but I'll even help you, if you want."

Retribution made a face, letting out a shaky breath, "Yeah... you're probably right. Where do we even start though? It's a mess." Pest offered him a reassuring smile and winked, "Don't worry so much, first of all. If you wanna get the torn curtains and blankets put away, I can try to find some new curtains so we can hide that busted window, just til we can get you a new one. From there, I can help you with the scattered clothes and books."

Ret made a soft sound of uncertainty and frowned, "That's gonna take a while though... I don't want either of them to see any of this!" Pestilence casually shushed him, placing a finger over the other's teeth to stop him. A rat poked it's head out of his hoodie and he playfully arched a brow bone, tilting his head, "I think you're forgetting that I can provide you with however many tiny helpers you need."

Making another face, Retribution lightly pushed his hand away and sighed, the sound becoming dangerously close to a yawn. The poor guy must've really exhausted himself. Pest's expression softened as he watched the other rider, speaking up again after a few seconds passed, "On second thought, how about you take a nap? If you want any help with cleaning once you're a bit more rested up, let me know." Retribution scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest, "I don't need sleep, I'm fine. I can do it now, don't worry about me."

Groaning, Pest's magic flared up, and he hummed, "Welp. Looks like we're doing this the hard way then." Before Ret was given the chance to ask what he was doing, he was lifted up off the floor and moved over to his bed. He was dropped on the mattress and Pest began to whistle a tune, gathering up his sash and syringe gun as more of his magic moved to throw the covers over Ret. He watched as Retribution popped his head out from under the blankets and glared weakly, "How dare you! I could've walked just fine on my own!"

The taller chuckled softly, "Yeah, you could've. You didn't though, so therefore, you basically left the job open for me to handle." Ret grumbled to himself, pulling his blankets up and tugging them over his shoulders, attempting to make himself more comfortable. Pestilence said his soft goodbyes and "seeya later", all before using a shortcut and vanishing into thin air. Retribution was left alone, lying in bed and silently wondering what just happened with him and Pest.

Had... Had they just become friends? Did Pest really apologize for being a jerk? Retribution rubbed his achy sockets; whatever this absolute madness was, he'd deal with it later, after his afternoon nap.

[i-did-not-mean-to]

Black - Chapter 7

Yes, I still am not done with this irregular, random, weird travel blog...

Fandom: the Hobbit

Characters : Thorin x OC, many others

Setting: Before the unexpected journey lol

Rating : Mature (not yet...still...but a little)

Warnings: none, it's just light-hearted silliness

It's a longish chapter (around 4k words...sorry)

“All is well, Master Dwalin. Do not distress yourself!” She called out to the vision of prowess stomping towards her.

She would not necessarily be welcome here, she knew, but it made her feel safer already to know that, at the very least, they would not have looked on as she was raped and murdered by some stranger.

“The lass has chased away a grown man with a tree branch. Aye, she might be well assorted to Oakenshield.” Balin laughed, carrying the infant easily back to the settlement. She remembered the impossible weight in her arms, pushing down on her bones and compressing her flesh, and she was amazed at the strength of these beings.

“May I borrow a knife?” She asked the two warriors who were apparently waiting for her to take her back into the confines of the settlement, Thorin looking positively eager to take her to safety and slightly annoyed at the delay.

Dwalin handed her a small blade and she knelt again, opening a small wound in her forearm and sticking the bloodied knife-edge into the ground. It was a hungry earth, she knew for she felt its thirst, and old nan had told her that dung and blood fertilised the soil best.

“What are you doing, lass?” Dwalin approached, cautiously, suspicious of an obviously insane woman with a knife. “Gardening, Master Dwalin, gardening.” She replied with a small chuckle. Maybe, she could get some seeds out of those vegetables she had bought. When dawn broke, she would inspect the wilderness around the Mountains in search of herbs and fruits she could use for her other, meagre talents in hopes that she could be of service in any other way.

“Mistress? Mother asks what is to be done about the food you have brought…” The blonde kid came up to them, exclaiming: “Oi, mistress, you’re hurt!” and offering a rather dubious handkerchief right away.

“Oh, no, I’m fine.” She looked to Thorin, seeking his help in explaining. “She does things differently.” Thorin said tonelessly but inclined his head at her to get her to answer the original question of his nephew.

“Come, Mistress, you must be cold. Really, uncle, to have that poor woman sitting on the cold ground.” Fíli seemed outraged and dragged her away towards the settlement, shaking his head at an equally indignant Thorin.

“So…about that food.” The young man asked again, pointing at the cart nobody had touched hitherto. “It was a gift…”

Thorin had said it would be welcome, but maybe they distrusted her that much? “I have purchased it from a merchant from the Shire and Thorin has been there all the time, I have…there is…it’s good.” She stammered, biting her lip, she had never been so far from home and comfort; she felt painfully outmatched by all these gloriously self-possessed people around her.

“Oh yes, nobody said there was anything wrong with it. No…but it’s yours, Mistress. Uncle said you’ve bought it.” Fíli replied gently, steering her to a nearby bench and twisting his moustache. Evidently, he was trying on the role he would have to fill sooner or later; she hoped it would be later, much later, for she could not even envision the death of one Thorin Oakenshield.

The very man approached and lifted his hands when she wanted to defer that decision to him. “You bought it with your past, woman, you decide of its future.” He declared and waited.

“What are you talking about, Master Dwarf?” She mumbled, waving at the cart and the foodstuffs within. “These are offerings to the venerable royal family and their people.” She spoke to the young prince, handing him what little was left of her savings.

“Woman, did you just hand him your money?” Thorin roared. “Yes, Master Thorin, didn’t you?”

“That’s not the same thing.” He protested. “I am not a kept woman, Master Thorin, and I am not your guest. Your people cannot bear another idle mouth to feed, another idle body to warm, isn’t that the truth you tried to hide from me?”

He retreated one step, startled by her candid words. “That first night, you took me in, you gave me food.” He murmured.

“And I will continue to do so, Master, I will forage and hunt, I’m used to walking to markets to sell my wares and I shall go on doing just that. I have survived on my own for a long time and I don’t need anyone to take care of me.”

Her pride shone bright in that second as she went toe-to-toe with a king, with a man she respected, with a person she venerated for his kindness and generosity. “I want you to be my guest.” He said, just a tiny bit petulant.

“And I’m telling you that I don’t want to be your guest. You are my master…and my friend. Have I ever offered you less than my service?” She barked back, proud and strong, standing in the middle of the courtyard with her cart.

“I have made a vow, Thorin-king, I have promised hard work and humility to purge the sins of my forefathers. Have you forgotten about that? I shall not renounce my promise to the creator.” She went on, softer.

“You are delivered. Men don’t work for the likes of me.” Thorin retorted, with deceiving calm.

“I am not a man though, am I? All kinds of people work for their king if their king works for them, and women have worked for a man since the beginning of time.” She smiled. “I am not a slaver!” He exploded.

“They are not your people.” As soon as he saw her face fall, he knew that he had gone too far, that his words and his pitiful mastery of them had failed him; like wild horses, they had run off and trampled someone he cared for.

“Thorin!” The princess, beautiful and wreathed in flames of just anger, stormed into the yard and let both her palms clash heavily onto his broad chest.

“Do not listen to him, he did not mean it the way he’s spoken it; Thorin has ever been a mulish, overly proud, misspeaking fool.” She whispered to the frail creature huddled in her hurt as a babe in a blanket.

“It runs in the family.” Thorin hissed and earned another withering, punitive stare from his sister.

“Your gifts are very welcome. What he means to say is that we do not want to be seen as the kind of people who take advantage of the…goodwill of a gentle maiden such as you. We are said to be ruthless and greedy.” Her eyes went dark with sadness. “There are things that may point into that direction. If you were to sacrifice that tender life of yours in service to a…homeless people, it would shame us.” Her royal hand rested heavy and solid on the frail and shivering one.

“I would be part of a great destiny, of retribution, of redemption, if you permit, Milady.” She whispered, begging under her breath. “Such faith have you in a king without a crown, without a realm, without an army?” The princess was surprised.

“Such faith have I in the person who’s led me out of misery and through peril to a safe haven, yes.” She replied firmly.

“Harbul…” Thorin sighed, much to the dismay of his sister and the onlookers. He had called her “mudlike”, which was in itself not a compliment, but when she looked up to question him on his choice of name, he smiled: “Creature of mud, creature of soil, fertile daughter of water and earth.”

She bowed to him, accepting “mud” as her name, as her epithet, as her identity, amongst those strange people who were so private with their own names. Her previous name was strange and outlandish to them, so she encouraged the outraged crowd to address her by a word of their own language.

They were so proud of their heritage that it was unimaginable to them to feel honoured to be given another name in a foreign language, but she hoped that at least Thorin would understand. “I am sorry.” He murmured as he took her arm to go into the dining hall, small and cramped as it might be. So, he did not understand.

“If I had been less hasty, if my words had been less careless, please believe me that I’d have bestowed a name worthy of your courage and your loyalty upon you. I’d have praised your beauty and your good heart rather than harp on your own erroneous vision of yourself. I am truly sorry.” He whispered into her ear, while his sister still looked at him as if he had crawled out under a rock.

“Don’t…I love it.” She beamed up at him, trying out her own name tentatively. “I feel like I’ve arrived.”

“From dust to mud? I don’t want that, I don’t want you to stay a slave to ghosts forever.” He sounded exasperated by her meekness. “Some of us are born for greatness, harbingers of momentous change and icons of a bright future, Master Dwarf. You are more than just a man, you’re a promise, you’re an oath, you’re the physical embodiment of an excellence spanning centuries and millennia…and some of us…are not.”

“Arzâm, that’s what I should have named you.” He groaned. “Woman, growled impatiently, has worked perfectly for us this far, no?” She grinned, then, overcome with curiosity, she asked: “What does it mean then?”

“It means “faith”; despite everything you say about yourself, it is what I think of first when I think of you.”

“And do you think of me often?” She laughed. “Yes.” He gave back in a serious, ponderous tone.

“Then I shall accept that name as well. Faith, it suits me well.” She was still smiling, shedding her old skin and everything she had been born into with an easy shrug that confused and amazed Thorin.

At the closed door though, she hesitated, then stopped completely.

“I…Should I go in there? I can eat out here.” The woman henceforth and forevermore known as Faith offered.

“You are not a dog, woman, come in. There are still dwarrows who want to meet you…and they’re pushing against this very door from the wrong side.” With an impatient call through the wooden partition inviting unseen people to please clear the doors, Thorin gave it a hearty shove.

Excited murmurs and threatening growls erupted in a sound like waves crashing onto the shore.

“I am unwelcome.” She whispered, biting her lip to keep her calm while Thorin moved with impervious determination through the throng of people towards a table where his nephews were already seated.

“Let me leave, Master Thorin, I beg you.” His hand only tightened around her arm as he pushed her forward, feeling miserable because he was treating her like a prisoner now, but she would not just scurry away to eat scraps of the food she had bought herself. “Don’t be afraid; these are the sounds living, breathing beings make…Okay, dwarrows might be a little louder than the fine people you’ve grown up with, but…” He gave her a crooked smile.

It was true; she was overwhelmed with the sheer volume of the cacophony of life around her. After years of wandering in an endless, wooded tomb, she had almost forgotten what vivacity sounded like.

“If you go any slower, uncle, she’ll be dead of starvation before you make it to the table. We’ve all seen the beautiful maid you’ve brought along with you, now make haste, we want to eat.” The younger one of the nephews called out and ducked behind his brother to avoid Thorin’s glaring look. Only, he had not minded his own mother who gave him a sharp rap on the head that might have broken Faith’s neck from the look of his head flying forward and almost knocking over a pitcher.

“Friends, kinsmen, join me in welcoming Mistress Faith who not only has provided this dinner, but, as I am told, has also chased away a potential intruder AND tried to hold a pebble.” Dís announced, apparently silently agreeing with her son’s assessment that Thorin’s dignified and regal entrance was basically just annoying and boring.

General laughter from the surrounding crowd made Faith look around in wonderment and interest. “Why is that funny? That infant was adorable, why wouldn’t I try to hold it?” She looked up at Thorin questioningly. “They’re heavy and notoriously difficult. Your new friend here was a terror.” He grinned as they reached the table, nodding at his sister.

“I was absolutely nothing of the sort; I was a proper angel compared to my older brother.” She spat back and, for a moment, Faith thought that she would stick out her tongue in defiance.

“Fíli was a fussy baby, but Kíli was not all that difficult.” Dís informed her as she pushed the woman down on a chair with a force that made her bones creak. “They must have been so adorable.” Faith sighed under her breath.

“They were okay.” Thorin grumbled, but his eyes were warm. She remembered the stories he had told her on the road about their first weapons and their first ponies; she had traded him old women’s tales for recollections of his beloved family and so she knew that he loved those rambunctious boys more than his own life.

“Also, that baby was not difficult at all.” She turned back to Thorin. “It tried to scalp you!” He exclaimed. “Nonsense, it merely played with my hair…It was charmed to find someone who let it touch their hair.” She rolled her eyes at him.

“Well…you may touch mine, for good luck, as you say. Would that make you feel less nervous?” It was a surprising offer and she shook her head immediately. “Oh no, I won’t touch your hair, in the dining room, in front of everyone!” She hissed under her breath which made him break into booming laughter.

Fiddling around with his braids for a second, he pressed a small metal bead into her hand under the table.

“For good luck.” He winked. “Thorin-king, you cannot do that.” She blushed. “I am king; I can do what I want.”

Being back home with his people brought out that other side of him as well, she noticed; he seemed to have a streak of wicked, quick-witted humour that made her head spin. She knew this to be a joke for she was fiercely aware that she had only known one single person in all her life who had lived observing a more extensive array of rules and restrictions than her: Thorin.

“Be true to your name, woman, and have faith in me, have faith in my people. We are a private folk, suspicious, distrustful, wary of outsiders, but we also know a gem from a pebble, and we value loyalty above all else.” He said with that weighty, serious tone that made him sound so much like a king of old.

He served her prime cuts and a good heap of vegetables. “Eat your greens, Thorin-king!” She whispered as she understood that he was trying to smuggle her his portion as well. Despite the face that he made at her, he shoved a fork full into his mouth grimly and stared her down defiantly.

“Thank you, Mistress.” Fíli bowed his head at her with a cheeky smile. “At your service, prince.” She replied, her deference marred by the grin she couldn’t suppress. “Do you want to walk with Kíli and me after dinner? We can show you the others.” The prince offered eagerly. “Others?” Faith was immediately interested.

“Don’t overtax her.” Thorin cut in, stern, afraid that too many dwarrows at once might still make her run for the hills.

“Oh, please say I may go, Master Dwarf. Please.” She begged, grabbing his arm with both her hands. “Well, my nephews can open the doors for you.” He said with a sly smile and had she not been in the dining room in presence of a good many of his subjects, she might have smacked his arm for his cheeky insolence.

“Will you heap blessings on them as well?” Thorin asked, a tinge of jealousy piqued within his heart. “I shall beg the great creator to be merciful to those who would follow you into the great unknown, yes.”

“That great creator you always talk about…who is he?” Thorin shoved away his plate and turned to her fully, to the surprise and confusion of the other people in the room. “Well, he’s the great creator. We are not given his name, Thorin-king. He is one and he is many. He is the source of everything.”

Thorin made a gesture that encouraged her to go on. “He’s the beginning and from him flowed all powers and things, which in turn created new things. Creatures of mud. Creatures of stone.” She smiled up at him with open warmth.

“We believe that Mahal has created us. Hewn us from stone and Eru Ilúvatar gave us consciousness.” Thorin murmured in a low voice to her. Faith raised her hand and puckered her lips in strenuous concentration. This sounded familiar…had she perverted her nan’s stories? Had she diluted the tale?

“He is one and he is many, from him all things sprang, the holy maker of things, fashioner of chains and forger of wonders…the name escapes me, Thorin-king, but I might have heard of that Mahal.” She whispered, more to herself than to him until she became aware of his burning gaze upon her focused face. “Yes, I might have known that story…” She repeated.

“That’s a part of the great creator that had no bearing on my life though, I am sorry.” She went on, apologetic. “The story doesn’t end there; Yavanna, his wife, is queen of the earth, bringer of fruits, protectress of all things that grow.” Thorin interrupted her.

“So, you’ve given the different parts of the great creator names?” – “It’s what people say…there are many names and a lot of stories, I thought you might like them.” He smiled gently; he had seen how she was grounded in her faith and how she thrived on stories and tales. This was a gift to her, and he hoped that she would not be offended.

“Hmmm, interesting.” Faith was consumed by curiosity now. “So, you were hewn from stone?” – “No, not me.” He laughed.

“Durin then? Was Durin hewn from stone?” She asked, remembering that mystical first king. “Yes…”

“And he had a long beard?” Faith beamed up at him. “Yes, he had a long beard.” Thorin chuckled, amazed by her naïve fascination and earnest wish to learn; to her, all of this were stories, fairy tales and pretty lies, but his people had cherished and passed on those accounts for generations.

Faith’s mind was churning with questions; to her, there had always been a notion of sacrifice and devotion to her observance of her belief and she wondered what might please this Mahal.

“Have I leave to go to the nearest river in the morning?” She asked Thorin as their plates were cleared away. “What for?”

“Have I leave to use one of your furnaces?” She went on, not answering his question.

“I accept your faith, I accept your vision of the creator, and I hope they might accept my way of honouring them.”

She would go and collect loam, purify it to clay and turn it into pottery, he understood. Offerings had ever been her way of expressing and observing her faith; he had seen her twice bleed onto the ground and a hundred times call out to the great creator while offering her time, her tears, and her pain to him.

“What for?” He repeated slowly. “To give thanks for the walls that encase me, for the man who’s saved me, for the creation of this beauty that fills my soul to the brim, Master Thorin. I have seen great wonders, they were gifts, and gratitude is expected.”

When he didn’t reply, Faith went on softly: “I have surrendered my life to you, I have surrendered my name to you, let me worship the way I always have and hope that it finds grace.”

Industry and creation had ever been pleasing to Mahal, Thorin thought and he could barely imagine that any Valar could be displeased with such ready and absolute devotion. One could have believed that her soul was easily swayed, but as he looked into her eyes, he discovered that her belief had only deepened thanks to his words.

“I’ve told you about Yavanna because she sounds like someone you’d feel…close to.” Thorin went on, disregarding his nephews who were chomping at the bit to get the poor woman away from him. No doubt, they had some mischief in mind.

“Many times you’ve called me king of stone, immutable and intransigent…” He went on. “Strong and steady.” She corrected.

“Well, allow me to call you queen of growth then, queen of thriving things, queen of change.” The way his face melted into a dazzling smile made her feel weak in the knees; he was the fire and the smith in equal measures, and she would never grow accustomed to the flashing blaze that engulfed her unexpectedly.

“Let us call you queen of moving away from the grumpy old dwarrow.” Kíli said cheekily and pulled her by the arm, almost tearing the whole limb out of the socket. “Gently!” Thorin warned his nephew, who apologised but kept drawing her away.

“So…how do you find uncle?” Kíli asked as soon as they were – almost – out of earshot.

“What are you talking about? He’s just over there! I had no reason to search for him this far.” Faith replied with a smirk.

“Haha, funny, no, but…how do you find him?” The young prince insisted, not discouraged by her side-stepping.

“I find him much restored in his health and mood now that he’s amongst his kin.” Faith provided amiably.

“Mahal’s beard, woman, do you think he’s cute?” Ah, the impatience of the young, Faith thought, increasingly enjoying this little game. “No, prince, there is no creature on this earth less probable to be called “cute” than your uncle, the king.” She chuckled.

“Really? Look at him, look at the fuzzy beard…Is it the beard? Really, he could grow a proper one, not like Kí here…He has his reasons to wear it short…It is the beard, isn’t it?” Fíli plunged into the conversation.

Faith wondered how good the king’s hearing was and how he’d feel about her being asked inappropriate questions about him by his intrusive but adorable nephews. She also knew that beards and hair were not up for discussion usually.

“There is nothing wrong with the king’s beard.” – “You can call him Thorin, he’s not here…You can call him everything you like…” Fíli was an irreverent creature, Faith thought, cheeky to a fault, but she felt warm affection wash through her immediately, nonetheless.

“I shall call the king what he is. A king. Your most revered uncle. A man deserving of respect and esteem.” She said severely.

“You sound like mother…Come on, give us something. Any little thing, you like the beard then?”

“He’s a good man.” Faith said slowly. “But do you think he’s handsome? I feel like he hasn’t been told that he’s handsome lately. Mom tells him he looks like a raincloud that was stuffed inside a rotten tree trunk for too long.”

Faith knew that it was a trap, but she couldn’t help herself. “I am pretty sure that the honourable princess would never say anything quite as callously untrue to her brother, the king.” She cut in sharply.

“You should tell him that he’s handsome.” Kíli looked at her with huge, wet eyes pleadingly. “No, I should most definitely not do anything of the sort. Are you out of your mind, good prince?”

Faith bit her lip, that was no way one was to speak to a prince.

“I am not. He’s my uncle, I am fond of him…and he’s lonely. Also, he’s worn his best tunic tonight and you did not comment on it, did you? Screaming at him and all.” Now, he was making her feel guilty; she had indeed almost argued with Thorin tonight.

“Durin blue and all…” Fíli added. “You know Durin?”

“The one hewn from stone with the long beard, yes. I have not had the pleasure as that was before my time, but yes, I have been made aware of him.” Faith replied cautiously; she knew not if she was allowed to talk about this to other people.

“Do you think him ugly? It’s okay if you do, many of your kind do. We had just hoped that you’d…cheer the old boulder up with your feminine guiles.” They seemed dejected by her words and Faith was quick to want to reassure them. One would have thought that she had insulted their Mahal and Durin by not answering their question and their sad eyes broke her heart.

“Who? The king? He’s the most beautiful creature in the world.” Faith almost stumbled over her own words.

“Oh really? Can you tell him? Please, tell him.” Strong hands closed around her arm. They must have been adorable as children, Faith thought again, no wonder Thorin loved them with such fierce intensity and tender indulgence.

“To his face?” Faith was doubtful that this would be a good idea. “To his goofy, fuzzy face, yes.” Kíli laughed.

“Kí…Let’s go meet a friend of ours. I think you’ll like him.” Fíli grabbed her sleeve ever so delicately and gave it a gentle tug, apparently afraid to damage his uncle’s plaything. “I am not made of sugar.” Faith laughed.

“You have no idea what they’re like if you dare…touch, take, damage or steal what they consider theirs. Great-granddad, he was…intense.” Fíli chuckled, but there was a darker, painful truth behind his light tone. Faith retraced their family tree, potential centuries of history, reciting under her breath: Thorin II, son of Thráin II, son of Thrór. What had happened to them? Thorin had spoken at length about the family that lived, about the people she’d meet, but he had avoided the subject of his forefathers as much as possible. What did the prince mean by “intense”?

“I am not his. Not in that way. I am a tool, not a valued possession.” Faith tried to protest, but heavy dwarven brows raised in evident mockery stopped the gush of indignant words immediately.

“Yeah, that’s probably why I can already feel our mother’s breath on my neck…Uncle didn’t want to let you go, let you out of his sight…as if we’d ever let any harm come to you.” Fíli puffed up with wounded pride. “The king says you have a tendency to mislay and lose your…things. Toys. Ponies.” Faith dared interject.

“This is different! Mother would…oh, she’d be furious and so would uncle. No, we’ll take you to see Ori and let uncle introduce you himself to the rougher fellows. Do you have any valuables?” Kíli asked in a nonchalant tone as they led her down a narrow corridor.

“No?” Faith patted the pockets of the dress that didn’t belong to her, just in case the previous owner had left anything in them.

“Good, because Nori will pick your pockets.” They both laughed. “Oh…maybe I should have brought something of value then?” Faith felt bad and slightly irritated at the boys for not having warned her beforehand.

“Here, it’s your own coin you handed to me so gallantly. It will make the old boy happy.” Fíli handed her a coin and she tucked it away in one of the skirt pockets diligently. “You’re a good sort, Mistress.” Kíli grinned, giving her a small slap on the shoulder that propelled her a few feet forwards.

“Be careful, Kí! Uncle will not let her come with us anymore if she’s all bruised afterwards!” His brother reprimanded the young prince immediately who apologised with another one of those melting puppy-eyed looks that made her heart shudder with maternal instincts. “I have to toughen up.” She just smiled.

“No, we need to learn delicacy. Ah, here’s one who will know how to act…Ok, he’s fled. We’ll get him!”

They ran off, after a reddish flash dashing around a corner, with surprising agility. To Faith, it felt like watching wolf pups chase after a deer; there was the distinct cuteness of youth, but already, one could not oversee the instincts and the single-minded determination of predators, of warriors, of flowering strength and power.

Sighing, she decided to follow them, praying that there would be no doors to open or sullen dwarrows to confront before she found them. In her mind, she turned over the question if it would really be appropriate to tell the king that he was handsome…She had said so before, but she had spoken abstractly, never really adopting the tone his nephews so ardently claimed was necessary. The mere possibility that those two rascals could be right when hinting at the king’s loneliness overruled her sense of propriety and what little pride she had left. Once she’d find her way back to her companion, she’d tell him.

“Mistress? Here’s Ori.” Kíli shoved another youngish dwarrow towards her who looked like he wanted to be anywhere but in her presence. Her heart froze. Two other silhouettes appeared from the shadows and the hairs on her neck raised in gooseflesh.

[avenger09]

The Dragon Prince: My Original Characters 

Vincent A devoted knight errant of Queen Fareeda of Eveare and An infamously brutal fighter. Nicknamed "The Red Knight" for the state his armor usually ends up after a skirmish with Xadia's elves, who see him as a monster, while the Human Kingdoms praise him one of their finest warriors. Off the battlefield he's just a resigned battleworn soldier, who dislikes his accolades for elf-slaying. Vincent's design was based on the Black Prior's from For Honor. I made him up before Season 3 introduced the Evenare aesthetic, which is pretty slick. Will have to include that in the future. He's a Knight Errant so that's my excuse why how he's so far from home helping with the odd skirmish with Xadia. When his Queen was assassinated he was pained but sensed something was up, so he sided with Ezran's call for peace, after arriving at Kotalis with those in the Evenare army seeking revenge. He tried to talk some sense into them but few listened. 

Voice: Sean Pertwee

--- Sabbath Once confident of Humankinds inferiority to Elfkind, the lose of one of his horns at the hands of a cunning Human foe ended that assumption. The death of the Dragon King, only further convinced him that a full blown war with humanity would be a costly one. Sabbath is actually an older commander then Janai, but he defers to her out of respect for her leadership. Not just because she's the Sun Queen's sister. It was Vincent who took his horn the two developing a rivalry ever since, going out of their way to face off in battles. The chaos of Season 3 have them reenacting a certain iconic scene at the Spire. "Never thought I'd die side by side with a Human." "How about side by side with a friend?" "...Yes. That I can do." Voice: Michael Dorn Jaster Duty-bound and unflinching in his tasks. Jaster has crossed the divide many times to complete the assignments given to the Blood Elf Wardens. His most recent one however will test him like never before, when this implacable man is forced to choose between his duty and what is right. Jaster is more of wildcard. He's from an antiquated order of Earthblood Elves, who take oaths to avenge crimes against Elfkind, hunting the offender down or capturing them, (even from the Human Kingdoms) when the circumstances are unclear, so that they may be tried to shed light on the incident in question, before judgment is passed. Mostly their seen as a good substitute for the Moonshadow Assassins. I pegged that the Earthblood Elves would be excellent trackers, using their magic to detect others through the ground, as well as trap them with roots and such. He's a cross between a Witcher and a Warden from Warcraft with some Judge Dredd thrown in. His helmet based on the Dragonborns. His crossbow, able to reload quick with lever action. (flipped back, like the Terminator's shotgun) As it happens he's currently hunting the "Rogue Moonshadow" who abandoned her comrades. The Moonshadow leaders may be reluctant to end the life of one of their own on principle and only Ghost her. But the loved ones of those lost due to her 'betrayal' are not so satisfied. Seeking his Order to carry out the unsavory task, something they have been doing since before the divide, hence their almost pariah like status, as a relic of a by gone age. Fortunately her retribution was delayed thanks to her returning the Dragon Prince, not hiding in the Human Kingdoms like he expected. When he finds out the truth he's going to have to decide between duty and what is right. Voice: Mark Hamill

[seanhtaylor]

Sean Taylor destroys the Pulp Heroes

As promised, here is my destructive mind unleashed on the classic pulp magazine heroes. For this little thought experiment, I'm recreating these characters in the time period of the actual pulp magazines, as if published in an alternate universe. I’m also trying to stick to the magazine characters.

Without any further delay, you may totally hate me now in case I have spread my nonsense all over one of your faves.

The Avenger -- Upon returning home to the U.S., David Cowen was lynched because he dared to publicly hug a white female friend he had met in Paris while touring with a jazz ensemble, but his story didn't end there. He was reborn to seek retribution for all who were punished unjustly, whether by mob violence, the justice system, or by killers who thought they got away with it.

The Black Bat -- Emily Jenkins used to have it all, but when her family name was smeared and her family fortune lost when he father was taken by authorities and blamed for an attempted assassination of the touring President Roosevelt, she grew bitter and swore she’d get even and steal it all back. As the thief and assassin, the Black Bat, she targets those she believes were responsible for her family’s ruin.

Captain Future -- A disgraced spiritualist who really can see roughly seven minutes into the future, but failed as a medium to the high society because they wanted more than that, Antony Fratelli decided to end it all when he just happened to be able to glimpse the future of a woman near him who was about to be kidnapped. Using his knowledge of the future, he saved her life and was able to disable the two kidnappers. Now revitalized, he wears a cap and full face mask as Captain Future and seeks to protect those who don’t know yet that danger is just around the corner.

Dan Turner, Hollywood Detective -- Dan Turner just escaped from an asylum, where he has been for 12 years after convicted of murder (he may or may not have committed, he remembered nothing about it) but considered unfit for trial due to his mental state. After leaving the Midwest and heading to California, Dan has recreated himself as a private eye. But how long can he keep the truth hidden, especially when a real PI shows up trying to track him down.

Doc Savage -- Doctor Alex Savage was one of Chicago’s premier surgeons, but when a tragic reaction to a medicine during a study caused him to regress to an almost feral state, he practically became a true savage overnight and was legally given to his sister’s care. After she was attacked and left for dead in a New York park, his sister now uses him as her weapon against those who would harm women as she finds brutal men and unleashes her savage brother on them.

Doctor Death -- Byron Kincade is an African-American bouncer at Mama Joe’s in Savannah, Georgia. A former boxer who retired with a bum leg, he was at work one night when thugs busted into the bar and killed his secret lover, Desmond Smith. That night he made a hooded mask and built a mechanical brace to enable him to seek justice on the streets. Don’t expect mercy from Doctor Death.

Ki-Gor -- Franklin Anderson was an actor, portraying the serial’s greatest matinee hero -- Ki-Gor the Jungle King. Only, an accident almost killed him and left him in a coma. When he awoke, he believed himself to truly be the jungle king he portrayed on screen, and now he only pretends to be Franklin Anderson by day, determined to prove himself the king of this new jungle in which he finds himself. And to do that, he must first protect from anyone who seeks to hurt his new subjects.

The Phantom Detective -- Jeremy McDonald died in 1786, but that didn’t stop him. Connected to his wife’s broach due to her love for him, he eventually found himself in the presence of his great-great-great and then some) niece Agatha Breckenridge, one of Chicago’s few female P.I.s. Although only she can see and communicate with him, she’s learning that it can be really helpful to have a ghost as a partner.

Secret Agent X -- They’re trained. They’re lethal. And they don’t know they’re even agents until activated by a sonic device carried by their handler, Mr. Washington. Certain citizens are born with a genetic predisposition toward activation, and it’s Washington’s job to find them and put them to good use for the US of A when dangerous spies are on American soil.

The Shadow (La Umbra) -- Maria Rodriquez was killed in a mob shootout, but before she passed, her spirit took refuge in her shadow. Now a living shadow, she seeks out vengeance against the two mob groups that caused her death. Able to interact with the shadows of other people to affect the person to whom the shadow belongs, she’s more dangerous than she knows. Finally aware of her and her vendetta, the Andressi mob has called in a Voodoo priest to capture her and control her as a tool for the mob.

The Spider (Arachne) -- Beware Arachne, criminal scum. Her touch is poison. Madeline Wilshire was born into one of the oldest and richest families in New Hampshire, but not even that could save her from being cursed by a Shaman from whom her father stole a tribal heirloom. Born with a touch that can seep a deadly poison, she was kept locked away for years until she was old enough to be sent away to an asylum in New York. Learning how to control her curse, she was able to finally be released at age 21. Now refusing to have anything to do with her family, she has decided to create a new life for herself in the Big Apple and just maybe trying out her hand as the vigilante schtick with her venomous abilities as an asset for once and not just a curse.

Domino Lady -- Greta Hanwick may only be 17 years old, but she’s already a fantastic athlete with medals in swimming, archery, and gymnastics. Upon hearing of all the new masked vigilantes popping up, she decides to join the crowd and “age up” as the sophisticated but deadly Domino Lady, but is such a dangerous job a safe place to be for a teenage girl? Or will her determination be enough to help her succeed?

Green Lama -- Born on Mars, D’jrk spent centuries studying and learning to fit into Earth culture. Now he has a family and a job as a district attorney in Los Angeles. He has avoided using his otherworldly abilities for years, but since his 10 year old daughter Margaret has begun to show signs of such abilities, he decides that it’s time to teach her now to use them without being discovered, even by her mother. And the best way to do that is to blend in with the new capes and masks crowd that is appearing all over the U.S.

Jim Anthony, Super Detective -- A former cop with a perfect record of closing murder cases, Jack Yeoman was gunned down by the local gangster with a grudge. After healing, Jack changed his name to Jim Anthony and used the scars from his shooting (body and face) to open up shop as a P.I. with an ego as big as his abilities -- The Super Detective!

Moon Man -- Moon Man isn’t even a man. Darla Hopkins has been on the run from her cult family and pretending to be a man for so long thanks to her (as she was told growing up) unwomanly build, she can barely remember growing up as a girl. Moving from circus to circus as a strongman (she always had been stronger than her brothers), and taking odd jobs as she could, she never stayed in one place for long -- until she met Lorraine Pierce during her stay in Nashville. Now, determined to stay and finally create a life for herself and Lorraine, she continues to pretend and has even allowed Lorraine to convince her to join the ranks of costumed vigilantes as Moon Man, since she patrols and protect under the light of the moon -- with Lorraine as her sidekick, Luna, of course.

Golden Amazon -- Discovered in 1894 in a dig in the jungles of South America, a solid gold statue of a beautiful woman was excavated and brought back to New York and placed on exhibit at the Grover Museum of Antiquities. But when a child with one brown eye and one blue eye is born to the Mayor of New York, the statue suddenly comes to life. It’s mission -- to destroy the child prophesied to bring about the end of the world.

[mamabearcat]

72. “Just smile, I really need to see you smile right now.” - Inukag

Again, Nonny, sorry for the delay in this one. It ended up being a follow on from another ask prompt “Dogs don’t wear clothes...” 

Please note, this one comes with a warning. It mentions non-consensual touching of an intimate nature. 

 - if this is something that would be harmful for you, please don’t read it. It doesn’t go into detail, but I would never want something I had written to be hurtful to others. 

Inuyasha could feel Kagome’s weight slumped against his back as he jogged through the thinning forest, keeping his speed at an easy lope, not wanting to jostle her too much. Usually when he carried her, she moved with him as he ran, shifting her weight to help him as he jumped or turned. It was only the slight movement of her fingers on his shoulders and her head still being upright rather than resting against him that told him she was awake.

Her lack of movement worried him, but he reasoned that she was probably exhausted after being awake all night. Awake, and trying to deal with whatever that sick bastard had put her through while he was knocked out. He could still smell the faint metallic scent of her injuries and his stomach roiled with guilt and fear. Guilt that he hadn’t prevented her getting hurt and fear now that the danger had passed. Fear that it could have been so much worse; just another reminder of how fragile her life was in comparison to his.

Thanks to his half-demon heritage, his own injuries had nearly all healed as soon as the sun had risen – there was a vague ache around his ribs and in his gut where he’d been kicked repeatedly, but other than that, he was good as new. Kagome would have to wait for her human body to repair her cuts and bruises.

He was inordinately proud of her – she’d managed to handle herself well in what must have been a terrifying situation; finding out information and planning for escape when he wasn’t physically able to help her, but still… It shouldn’t have happened at all. He was seething with rage that she’d been hurt, and he’d meant it when he said to her that retribution against the Ronin that had attacked them was only postponed. But it could wait. He wanted, no, he needed to take care of her first.

Using his nose, it didn’t take him long to find the promised hot spring – only a small one, but plenty big enough for Kagome to soak in. The steaming water had a slightly pink tinge; the smell of iron and other minerals in the water was what had helped him find it in the first place. It was secluded, surrounded by towering pine trees and protected by black volcanic rocks on the eastern side.

He nodded. The rocks would provide shade from the mid-morning sun and protection from the cool mountain breeze, and the minerals in the water would help speed the healing of Kagome’s injuries. He squatted down next to the spring on a flat platform of rock, waiting for her to slide off, but there was no movement from her.

“Kagome?”

“Yeah, I’m still here”, she said quietly. She slid off his back slowly, staggering a little as she stood, and he turned quickly to grasp her arms to prevent her falling. “Sorry”, she said, with a small smile that didn’t reach her eyes, “I’m a little tired I guess.”

He didn’t quite know what to say to that, so he remained silent. He wanted to growl when he saw the bruising on her face again – her swollen eye, the mottled bruising on her cheek, the fat lip stretched over the cut in the corner of her mouth. He swallowed down the angry words and sounds, squeezing the tops of her arms gently before letting go. Instead, he squatted down near the water to test the temperature with his hand, watching out of the corner of his eye as she sorted through items in her backpack.

She pulled out her towel, a slightly dirty but unripped shirt and a pair of shorts. His ears twitched in sudden surprise when she angrily shoved the backpack aside with a word that often came out of his own lips, but sounded forced coming from hers.

“For fucks sake!” She tried to close the backpack, but the now broken clasp resisted her efforts, and she growled at it, as if her annoyance would make it suddenly comply.

“Kagome, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing!”, she hissed, turning her back to him and sitting down on the flat section of rock.

“Don’t sound like nothin’.”

He edged a little closer, trying to read her emotions, sniffing as quietly as he could. She was obviously upset; anger and… embarrassment? Anxiety? He could hear her heart rate escalating, the slight salt tang of tears in the air.

“Talk to me Kagome. Tell me what’s wrong.”

He edged even closer, shuffling so that he was sitting shoulder to shoulder with her. She hiccupped a small laugh that sounded suspiciously like it could be the beginning of a sob.

“I don’t… There’s no clean underwear in my backpack.”

Oh. Well, that was a problem he couldn’t really help her with. It wasn’t like he could share his fundoshi with her – she didn’t even wear underclothes like that. He’d seen them in her backpack on more than one occasion while he looked for ramen and ninja snacks, they were nothing like anything he’d seen in his time period before. He rubbed his nose a little self-consciously. “Could ya wash some in the hot spring, maybe?”

She huffed out an angry noise. “No. I don’t have any in my backpack. He pulled everything out, and I couldn’t find it all in the dark.”

That’s right. The Ronin had gone through her bag, looking for valuables. He remembered how she’d been crawling around on her hands and knees in the darkness, trying to find items to help them escape. He guessed it would have been difficult; and right then, their focus had been on survival rather than possessions. He knew she had plenty of those things she called panties in that clothing chest in her bedroom. She just needed something to get by until they returned through the well, he guessed.

“What about the one’s ya wearin’ – could ya wash those?” he tried helpfully, turning his head to look at her profile. He was totally unprepared for the way her expression suddenly crumpled, the back of her hand coming up to hide her mouth as hot tears ran down her cheeks.

“Th-They’re t-torn”, she sobbed, and a pure bolt of horror stabbed through his gut. He moved to kneel before her, hands hovering, wanting to hold her. Comfort her. Then the horror was pushed aside by the heaviness of guilt. His fault. He hadn’t been able to protect her from this.

“But you said he…” He could hear his voice quavering. “Kagome…”

She shook her head. “Wasn’t him”, she managed to get out between sobs. “Owner of the b-brothel. Wanting to ch-check her new merchandise!” she spat vehemently, raising her eyes to his. He was caught by those luminous brown eyes, unable to pull away. “She gave me a f-fat lip when I refused to undress for her. A-and then t-two g-guards held my legs o-open while she looked.”

Her chin dropped, hands twisted violently in her lap, knuckles white, nails scratching. Tentatively he reached out to place his larger hands over hers, gently prising the fingers apart before she could do more damage to her already abused wrists. Wordlessly, he pulled her into his lap, tucking her under his chin, curling himself over her as if to hide her from the cruelty of his world.

Her hands scrabbled in his suikan, grabbing handfuls and holding tight as she sobbed into his chest. He began rocking, rumbling a soft growl within his chest, hoping to calm her. He dropped soft kisses onto her hair, murmured her name. Fuck, he would do anything to take this away. Erase this from her memory. He’d failed her.

After a while, her sobs calmed, and she was silent, only the occasional hiccup from her and the wind through the pines breaking the silence.

“In a way, I was lucky”, she murmured, softly, her hands gentling their hold on his fire rat, stroking the slightly furred surface. “It was a busy night at the teahouse apparently. Some sort of local celebration and all the rooms were already full. So they didn’t need my services last night. Lucky me.”

“Kagome”, he said brokenly. She looked up, eyes widening at the tears in his eyes.

“Hey”, she said softly. “Don’t cry.” She shrugged, reaching up to stroke his cheek. “I’ll get over this. It’s not like I was raped or anything. In the scheme of things, it was nothing. I mean, so many women have it worse than me – so many girls in this era get pulled into that sort of life through no fault of their own. It’s just…” She sighed. “Last night I was so focused on trying to get away, make sure we both got away safely, that I didn’t think about it too much. And then, this morning when I had time to think about it, I sort of got stuck on what might have happened, and I got frightened. Let’s not waste any more time on this. It’s no big deal, right?”

She plastered a ghost of a smile on her face. “Smile with me Inuyasha?” She tugged at his cheek. “Just smile, I really need to see you smile right now.” Her eyes filled with tears again and her smile wobbled, until he managed to produce a wobbly half grin of his own.

He knew what she was doing, because he had done it so often himself. Denial. Diversion. Pretending that it wasn’t so bad, even though the pain was crippling. But even if she forced the memory away because it was too painful for her, he wouldn’t forget what had happened. He would remember, for her.

“Let’s get you cleaned up”, he whispered, his own voice seemingly blocked by the harsh knot of emotion in his throat.  

“Ugh. I’m so stiff, I don’t think I can move right now”, she muttered.

“Then let me help.” Dark brown eyes stared up at him, examining his expression, then she nodded, giving him a tiny but genuine smile, the first real smile he’d seen from her since dawn.

He picked her up, cradling her to his chest, then eased them both slowly into the hot spring, fully clothed. The spring wasn’t too deep, so he was able to sit on the bottom, resting his back against the rocks, with her cradled in his lap. She hissed a little when her injured wrists went under the water, then leaned against him. They stayed that way for about half an hour. Occasionally Inuyasha would drop his cheek onto her hair, rubbing gently, but mostly they sat in comfortable silence, finding no need to fill up the emptiness with meaningless words.

Finally, Kagome shifted in his lap. “I think I’m ready to get clean now”, she said softly. He helped her take off the ruined shirt and dirty skirt, wringing them out and placing them flat on the dark rocks behind them to dry. He took off his suikan, kosode and hakama, rinsing the dried blood from them, stretching them out on the rocks as well, leaving on his fundoshi.

Kagome made him stand still for a moment to make sure he had healed properly, and he rolled his eyes at her, but acquiesced grudgingly. Her fingers traced gently over where he’d been kicked the night before, pleased to see that there were only a few pale yellowing bruises to show for last night’s previously severe injuries.

He reached over towards her backpack, rummaging in it carefully, trying not to get things wet, keeping his back to her as she carefully removed her underwear, ducking down into the water so only her shoulder’s showed above it. He placed them both onto the rock to dry without comment, swallowing the growl that wanted to escape when he noticed the tear down the side seam of the panties, only a hastily tied knot in the fraying waist elastic holding them together.

“There’s no soap”, she said resignedly as he continued his search, “I already checked.”

“Wasn’t lookin’ for soap, I was lookin’ for this”, he said triumphantly, dragging out her second small first aid kit from a side pocket of her backpack. “Guess he didn’t find this one.”

“Do you know what you’re doing with that?” she teased, as he plonked it on the rock next to her.

“Keh. I been watchin’ you use it often enough. How hard can it be?” he grinned back. The grin faded as he looked at the bruising on her face again. He sighed, pulling a saline wipe from the packaging, then wiped it gently over her bruised cheek, and the cut on her lip. She winced, and he couldn’t help the small whine her movement of pain pulled from him.

“I’m so sorry Kagome”, he said softly, dabbing at her lip with a gentle touch.

Kagome frowned at him. “Inuyasha”, she said sternly. “Are you the one that backhanded me? Did you punch me? Was it you that treated my body with disrespect?”

His eyes flicked downwards to the bruising finger marks on the tops of her breasts, clearly visible under the water, then flicked away again, off to the side. He shook his head jerkily, ears flattened.

“Then you don’t owe me an apology”, she said firmly. Her smaller hands moved to his cheeks, making sure he couldn’t turn his head away from her. “You are my friend Inuyasha. I care about you, so very much.” She smiled a wobbly smile. “You do a lot to look after me, protect me. And sometimes, not so very often, I look after you. I get to try and protect you. And I’m happy to. It means a lot to me that sometimes you need me too. That’s the way it works, okay?” Her eyes held his. “I will not allow you to blame yourself for this. Are we clear?”

“Yeah…”

“Right then.”

He sighed, then turned his attention back to the first aid kit. He found a tube of ointment she’d often used on his injuries and rubbed it carefully onto her cheek and lip. Kagome restrained herself from telling him antiseptic cream would do little to help a bruise, knowing that he needed to do something physical to help. It couldn’t hurt, and if it helped him, then where was the harm?

They lingered in the hot spring until their clothes had dried, Kagome joking that usually he would have come and told her to get her lazy human butt out of the spring by now.

He mock glared at her. “Cheeky wench. It’s only because you and Sango sit in there and gossip. And there’s only so long I can keep a leash on Miroku ya know.”

Kagome giggled, only wincing slightly, and his heart suddenly felt lighter. He got out of the hot spring, making her giggle even more as he shook out his hair, shaking water droplets everywhere like a dog would. He silently placed a safety pin from the first aid kit on top of her torn underwear, then turned his back, shrugging on his own clothes.

As soon as Kagome gave him the all clear to turn around, he cleaned her wrists with a saline wipe, then put antiseptic and a bandage on each one, kissing each wrist carefully.

“Ready to go find the others?” he asked carefully.

The wide smile she gave him this time was genuine. “I’m ready.”

[emersonmanandnature]

January 28, 2020

A Voice Bellows

a voice bellows intimidation, is this our ending, forgiveness always petitioned for, money always exchanging hands, the eternal power of lust, where love seldom blossoms, thorny crown, constant demands, your lot in life, unmovable, stagnating misery, a repetitive thought in times infinite solitude, angry banter, one senses the gallows fiery excess, mistakes were made, your vision reduced to dark motives, your voice finally silenced, our cross to bare, your resurrection without fanfare, a lonely process for a son alone in a strange and angry world, your father demanding your sacrifice and after your performance followers spread your word, then put your thoughts into a book, now you look stoic above our alter, many an image made of your bloodied physical persona,

cold hearted surfaces, your death a performance without regret or mercy from your heavenly creator, you cannot perish with a soul bursting with light, this gift you gave to the people who had lost all hope, their hunger begging acceptance, to belong to your radiance of truth and the small minded critics desiring to unmask your passionate heart, twisting words you  spoke after your short stay on this planet as you evolved into a relic to be worshiped, an icon without physical evidence, “thank you father for your almighty insight into the nature of madmen, for choosing my innocence to die for the heathen populace,” the souls lover is parasitic, the pleasure of his touch, warm skin and a sudden knowing her duty and her immaculate boy, a gift to the world, the people’s salvation, put into

future writings, a declaration of his purpose yet he had died for our sins and the words were written after his sacrifice and accentuation, were his loving insights to live a caring life his own or doctored by his apostles interpretation of his revelations, undermined by fear of the ruling elites, the roman emperor constantine gathered his christian bishops at the council of nicaea in 325 AD to edit what was god’s word and what became man’s word demanding worship of a substitute savior and his right to rule the masses, jesus’s sacrifice showed his human qualities sending a universal message that paradise is not present in this earthly squalor but is present in a heavenly miracle waiting for you after death and thus the people suffered and perished longing for his touch, his

salvation here on this earth ignored delayed in their physical chains of fear, worshiping the holy ghost which allowed the tyrants of greed to persecute the people on earth as they saw fit and there suffering enriched the rich plutocrats accumulation of wealth and power a daily bargain  through instilling fear and meekness into their hearts, all the while these rich heathens of god’s absent justice are still committing horrendous crimes against humanity all through our history even as our god almighty stepped down from his heavenly palace and graced us with his innocent son he committed to death for our sins, our innocent sins of just being alive and he allowed god’s children to be tortured, murdered and driven insane in this mayhem of corruption for material profit, is this really

christ’s special gift to his flock, is this a father I would want? is this why he hasn’t appeared again to us for he is embarrassed by his cruel behavior and is fearful that we won’t worship him as he deserves, having an ego as big as the universe? this evil that roams and destroys for profit will be judged by our god and you too can sit in judgement at gods side, he always gives one a chance to judge each other but not the big boss, our holy father’s sporadic performance, his words full of holes from the holy ghost “Judge not lest ye be judged” he is an absent father (for 2,000 years), and somewhere in the universe he is making judgments on another race similar to ours but yet more productive, we evolved to live with our needy desires rising to the surface of our wandering will to do god’s work, or steal from the innocent from the pulpit of hypocrisy for we have to pay now for their sexual appetites, just like any other working stiff and may god’s love enter your being filling your hearts with his delayed satisfaction, a new day begins, a grey underbelly of rain filled

clouds pours down damning the violent madness of our bribed leaders, a gibberish rational for their guilty corruption, church bells chime its tired message for the faithful to rise and go already  deceived, a drudgery to walk the distance to his cross, his sacrifice of little lambs hearing gods solemn words that all will be taken by the money lenders and his holy gift of truth in our salvation was a lie, the people demanding mercy, a life worth living, not this overbearing weight pushing down on our conforming consciousness we were born into, we are becoming the forgotten ones under nature’s rule from a paradise lost, bitter souls that were left here to rot in the madness of someone else’s deceit and they present themselves as solemn purveyors of his gospel with stoic faces, for this is a serious business contract, they have developed for making money on the backs of sinners like you we mustn’t forget our place, when his holiness sips his tea in vatican luxury and angrily pulls his hand away from blessing the needy, does this agitate your senses, do you

have faith that your god should redeem you from the perversion of the preachers inner desires, his feathers ruffled as he leads his flock to the cliff of deception for when all is said and done the bottom line is always profits from the selling of confusion, keeping the congregation under the fisted perplexity of criminal minds with greedy words of their twisted truths, an external world in constant flux, we know not our future but there is glimpses of our coming shallow retreat, our seeking a buffoon to make our decisions in these reckless times, the moronic voices spewing lies, their drivel polluting an already dire earth, now knowing there is no salvation not even a thread of hope, all is quiet from the western sky, nothing comes forth not even a shiny glistening woman or man riding a chariot from the heavens down to this petty earth to bless us on her day off, a little late now for hope, yet we sing his glory in cold pews, mostly empty, a separation from the sins of our host, a priestly disguise, his lost

sanctity emulating a desire for closeness to our sinful nature, the dreary journey in morning traffic seeing the florescent light in lifeless office buildings, cold automation, the repetitive actions of coffee and despair, shadowed heads seemingly bent in prayer, anonymous lovers take refuge in waking alone guilty souls opening their timid consciousness, disguised messiahs with gluttony on their plates, his dripping blood their justification for the faithless braggarts seeking answers from scriptures already judged obsolete, he stands erect his back stiff, his face smirks with desirous eyes, a satisfactory smugness in shaming others to his converted flock observing his small domain, his followers chanting casual values, clumsy repetitions, he believes necessary for his and their unseen salvation, the worship of his words, like a job description, imposing his will on dull minds relishing immorality, how long since god’s perturbed silence without a hint of the apple tree con, why make two innocent souls, new to ways of his cunning treatment making them his

little puppets and set them up for physical anguish, where are our passenger tickets to another revelation that accuse the innocent of more sins and vices, a savior worth investing in, for his justly accused followers seek his sacrifice for only the few that truly understand the preachers deceit, give us a weepy prophesy and you too will be saved by a holy man of perpetual money laundering, it doesn’t take much to please the almighty benefactor of his own crucifixion, the lords prayer is the ace in the whole, for thinking ones role in the avarice of instinctive behavior how can one be judged by another that left his children to suffer through the ageless voices of human cunning just to please our supreme being, his immortality invisible, our souls left to rotting deception and yet still feel god in themselves, their illusions personal intrigue, their undoing, their nerve to seek another power of retribution for their father’s pain inflicted upon their innocence and they took his place at the altar of exaggeration with their own insights, power and

anger, their needs now met in frivolous pleasure, oh priests of the cloth please don’t undress in this sanctified temple listen to the old prophets ageless words without hope for their own children’s safety always the oldest dies in this carnival of madness and mayhem, a child born in innocence but no! the pastor screams in a loud harmful jealousy, this child is a sinner, we must pray to the lord of silence for the soul of this imperfection, our betrayal will never be forgiven, the wolves smelling a dead carcass, everything the church touches even the blessing of an abused victim, and the pope casually tells the kneeling boy before him, his prayers are with him and not the seeking conviction of the rapist, who walks about us his head aloft with the love of god in his darkening soul, his priestly offer, a hypocritical prayer for his orderly lecherous nature seeking god’s blessing, for those that can’t help themselves living in angry madness for they have no belief in a fairy tale ending, lashing themselves in the fiery pit of a reality destined for their punishment on

this earthly ruthlessness, we lose sight of our true kindness, opportunities needed, a positive comment that lights the eyes of youth but never acted upon, wasted energies using words of forgiveness, material value more important than any altruistic good deed, a giving away something of value, a sense of openness and not a stepping backward into a conceited memory without the means of becoming your inner truth, an ignorance hearing the cries of children, starving, a choice made by the robber barons their choice of segregation from the lives of the ordinary laborers, their courage spent in planning an expensive dinner for their next bought politician, who will get the golden wings of greed this time for his godly work in giving them there yearly tax breaks on the backs of his constituents, as these men and women of greed high five each other as if what they have done was anything else than mobsters ruling the planet along with their motivation to succeed in ludicrous behavior for they still believe in justice for themselves only, for

they can’t understand why enlightened people like themselves with a work ethic that gives them a duty to maintain their power base, exploitation and misery in the place of faith, for misery refines the utterance of poverty and anguish, a solid win for keeping the hungry afraid and conquering them with mistrust, yes we live in gated communities of wealth and power but if you could just give a little more please, scrape the cookie jar clean we could make this work for us, make life more about us, a biblical world view of taking from others what is destined to be ours, willful deceit will always bare fruits so what is the use in trying to pray for we are above your laws, we are the new biblical prophets of your doom, we will never retreat for we have the forces of evil by our side and lies to last your lifetime, and by then our sons and daughters of greed will have your kids convinced it is better to use drugs than live a life of poverty and misery taking orders not from your savior for he is long dead but we the powerful and gluttonous have a back log

of avarice and deceptions we haven’t even tried yet on the gullibility of the citizenry of this planet we are destroying for profit and the end of days is upon us, oh hollow god, a perfect patsy to distract the peons from the truth of our coming nightmare for we are humbled in our appearance one of you that made good the old fashioned way we earned it, we earned it oh yea! that written will from our absent oligarchs, ok our parents we never really saw them very much but did give us rich brats more power than we could have ever imagined and we use this wealth to get even with our hate of ourselves for not doing anything but perfecting distrust and violence onto the people of this fragile world and our mantra is taking profit over people’s lives in endless wars that replenish our heartless desires to see people suffer because of us, yes! you have guessed correctly we are psychopaths and have no need for charitable acts when we rule, we are the victors of this life we created for the weak and meek will always suffer before the fall, common sense tells

us that christians have no faith in themselves which makes it easier for us to claim powers of mastery over their lives, that was the first undermining of our religious nature, non-belief in our own values and our own willingness to partake in this paradise that was created for all of us and we succumbed to the political tides that saw a purpose for scripture to control the masses in fear of a fiction character with powers more than anyone could fight and religion was born, a controlling force of subterfuge as the people hated others different from them and their distractions were planned as the wealthy raped the earth and corralled all that disagreed with their false words to believe in a life after death, how stupid can the population be, well we found out that there is no baseline for the mindless superstitions that humans will believe in even christ’s beating and then crucifixion didn’t deter the populace and as a matter of fact the masses wanted to experience gods death as their own beating on a cross, you all will share in his pain except us the powerful

ones that think of your absurdity not to stand up and fight for something more than just a check or cash put in a basket being handed around under the altar of a saintly human being murdered for our sinful natures, how about happiness, equality and prison for the thugs that raped humanity for 1000s of years before a man named christ who never signed his name to his own book project but others looking for a quick buck or two that soon exploded into a revenue stream in the infinite accumulation of wealth, and the high energy of apocalyptic egos gone wild, we the masters of this planet will die being unforgiven, our wives will marry their lovers and our glorious bratty egotistical selfish kids without motivation but hatred in their hearts will soon rise to exploit the aging population by destroying their safety nets of social security and medicare for we are aware of the precarious nature of our greed through centuries of repetitious selfishness even though no one has ever carried their wealth beyond the final moment of silence, dark clouds,

spreading arms, muscled, posed for intimidation reaching out like talons across these forsaken lands of shattered hope, weariness leads to instinctive aggression, living in lies becomes a way to put a crooked facade on an already oppressive suffering for another’s profit, no one remembers their sins as they lie on their death bed praying to the coming darkness for forgiveness that will never come religion perverts the teaching of christ, religion is a fallacy industry, religion honors human life unless these humans have a different skin tone and a different religion that worships the same god but with a different name and we call them heathens of sin, the soul bursts with light, a recognition of the truth in his words manipulated through centuries by bad men and bad women using our god for their own profit, these mega churches showy and hypocritical for they speak a good lesson concerning profit by a god used and abused as he was in the roman days, the sacrifice of his blood becoming more important than the truth of his prophecy, I believe in a

spiritual presence not one where a savior will come down and save us, you are the spiritual necessity for love and truth to rule over the hatred and money interests that keep us from our true original faith in ourselves

[katoregama]

I write out full stories for all of my OC's. Since I've been asked about Terry's recently, I thought I'd share it, with a bit more detail here. The full synopsis is under the "Keep Reading" bar, because it's not a short story, lol.

Some things to know about some side characters:

 Beck Lawson - Runs the Paranormal Research Agency (PRA)

Zack Crimson - Co-Runs the PRA

Jamie Hendrickson - A 22 year old witch

Lucas O'Hara - An artifact-bound ghost of a Californian lifeguard.

 To start, my OC stories are grouped into either the Katoverse, or Enderverse. Katoverse stories are completely original. There is no Earth, no Earth Religions, no Mc Donalds, no Twitter, etc. Sort of like Star Wars. Enderverse however, takes place exclusively on Earth. While Katoverse has super sci-fi, magic, talking animals, and non-stop fantasy, Enderverse is a bit more grounded. That's not to say that the Enderverse lacks fantasy elements, but they're much more subdued.

 Terry lives in Detroit, Michigan in the "Enderverse". He's got problems with emotional retention. He has three older sisters who are all extremely successful. One's a doctor, one's an astronaut etc. Terry has felt pressured to live up to their examples, but his parents died before Terry could impress them. Of course, Terry's sisters' love their brother unconditionally, and support him no matter what. Terry knows this but also does not understand it. He feels he is not worthy of their affection, which only makes him frustrated. So, he turns to fighting as an outlet.

 As a wrestler, Terry was part of an unregulated independent circuit, which was borderline illegal. Terry was infamous for going too far in his matches, leaving other wrestlers with unnecessary injuries. During a Two on One handicap match against Bryan Soo, and Johnny Hendrix (wrestler name), Terry threw Bryan out of the ring where he hit his head and was knocked unconscious. Terry then beat Johnny down with his fists, giving Johnny a concussion, several cracked ribs, and other injuries. The injuries were severe enough that Johnny had to be hospitalized.

 After the match, Terry was confronted privately in an alleyway by Jamie Hendrickson, Johnny's younger sister. Jamie was a practicing witch with significant latent abilities. Angry at her brother's treatment, she accidentally cursed Terry with karmic retribution, and Terry was hit by a car moments later. The crash dislocated his spine, and Terry spent 5 1/2 months in a coma. Not so ironically, Johnny Hendrickson was discharged from the hospital on the same day Terry emerged from his coma.

 Since Jamie was at the same hospital to take her brother home, she met up with Terry to apologize for cursing him. She broke through enough of Terry's skepticism that he believed her but was in no physical condition to do anything about it. Jamie mentioned to Terry that she likely would never see him again as she was heading back to Redcliff University in Arizona to finish her 4-year degree. Much later, when Terry was well enough to function again, his wrestling career was over as long as his spine remained karmically cursed, so he pursued Jamie to Redcliff.

 - - - SIDE NOTE 1 - - - Terry's curse is localized. Anyone in close physical proximity is at risk of serious injury if they have been committing evil deeds. - - -

 Nearly a full year after his last meeting with Jamie, Terry was well enough to make it to Redliff University a week or so out from the Summer Session. He'd applied to the University online to take the Women's Studies course which he believed Jamie was guaranteed to be taking (she wasn't). On his first night staying in a dorm, he was attacked by a ghost and got tangled up with the Paranormal Research Agency (PRA) who were trying to catch the spirit. Terry's accidental interference got Zack Crimson, co-manager of the PRA thrown out of the dorm's 3rd story window by a ghostly scream. With Zack injured, Terry was forced to assist the PRA in capturing the ghost. With his dorm room demolished, the PRA offered Terry a room at their HQ.

 With Zack out of action due to an injury, Terry was coerced into being his substitute. Before Terry agreed, he joined the PRA at the local clinic mostly to apologize to Zack for accidentally getting him hurt. While there, Terry saw what he believed was his "nemesis" Jamie Hendrix. In truth, it was a supernatural creature called an Alp. The Alp got the upper hand and pinned Terry down, sharing with him a vision of an apocalyptic future. The Alp was captured and Terry was rescued by the real Jamie Hendrix who had just arrived with a mission for the PRA.

 As the Summer Session is about to start, Jamie brings up her concerns with the PRA over a known ghost that recently appeared to haunt the University Pool. The ghost is known to be violent, and the pool is extremely popular during the summer which makes it a high-risk phantom. The PRA is able to capture the pool ghost and, through the ability of one of the members to be possessed by ghosts at will, establish that the ghost was once Lucas O'Hara, a Californian lifeguard who drowned in 1992.

 - - - SIDE NOTE 2 - - - In the Enderverse, not all ghosts are bound by location. Some are bound to objects. Wherever the object goes, so too does the ghost. In Lucas's case, it's a necklace with a pendant that looks like a shark. Holding this necklace gives you control over Lucas. - - -

 With Terry's help, the PRA discover Lucas is one of many "Artifact Bound" spirits that have been imported into Redcliff. A different spirit tied to an old ceramic vase mentions "the coming of Zozo", which leads to the discovery of several arcane nodes charged with ghost energy in place with the intention to summon a demon. The leader of the PRA, Beck, believes Terry's vision was indeed a prophecy. To their fortune, Zack Crimson returns from the clinic, fully healed.

 While scouting another ghost attack Terry discovers Zack is a double agent working for STAR Corp, the mega-company who built Redcliff University in the first place. A demon cult (Children of Yan) within STAR corp intends to summon the demon Zozo to conquer/destroy the world. Zack was inserted into the PRA to keep them from discovering the cult's plans. However, Terry's wildcard presence put Zack out of commission long enough for the PRA's investigation to threaten the summoning.

 The demon cult decides to delay no longer and kidnap University students to act as human sacrifices to summon Zozo. Terry is able to beat Zack in a fight, and steals Lucas's artifact, a necklace, giving him control. With the PRA, Terry infiltrates the cult's sacrificial temple, but orders Lucas to kill cultists instead of students.

 The blood sacrifice of cultists is enough to summon Zozo anyway. Terry offers his body for Zozo to possess, but upon doing so, Jamie's curse immediately responds to Zozo's evil, temporarily paralyzing him. Terry fights Zozo for control, and through a force of extreme will forces Zozo out of his body and back into hell.

 Terry's good deed (saving the world) gives him a reprieve from his curse, though he decides he must quit wrestling entirely to avoid further injuries. He stays for the remainder of the summer session, during which he and Jamie begin dating. After the session is over he leaves Redcliff with Jamie, and ventures into a happy obscurity.

[shinidamachu]

Kiss Me

Summary: In which InuYasha and Kagome have the make out season they (do I dare say “we”?) deserved after the events of the second movie.

Word Count: 1401  Genre: as fluffy as I can be  Fandom: InuYasha  Pairing: Inukag  Format: oneshot  AO3 Link: 🌹  Fanfic.Net Link: 🌹

The pace of his steps, which were leading to the Honekui No Ido, were considerably slower than usual. If the girl wrapped up around his back noticed it, she didn’t seem to mind and the silence that fell between them provided the same comfort of a bonfire on a cold day.

InuYasha knew he was only delaying the inevitable but after everything that had happened, there was no much he wouldn’t do to steal just one more moment of her time. Not when she was holding him as if he was the only thing that mattered, arms around his shoulders and warm breath sending shivers trough his neck. 

Not after she had kissed him the way she did.

As the sun settled and the sky, painted in the softest tones of orange and pink, contemplated their short journey, the half demon couldn’t help but to reminisce the very moment in which Kagome saved him from the darkest parts of himself with the mere touch of her lips on his.

Though what he experienced before the kiss was nothing more than a blur to him now, InuYasha did recall what happened after her unexpected action brought him back to his senses - back to her - vividly. 

He still remembered how the world was burning down around them and how it meant nothing compared to the consuming flames he could feel inside, threatening to burn his whole being to ashes, and how he was willing to let it, all due to the sweet sensation of Kagome’s kiss.

Once they defeated the enemy and the victory euphory ran out, the event didn’t go unnoticed by their friends, who had spent the whole day either making embarrassing questions or smiling in the slyliest way, with the sole purpose of pissing him off. 

It hadn’t taken long for him to get defensive and avoid the subject whatsoever. But now, when it was just Kagome and him, InuYasha would be lying if he said that his thoughts consisted in anything other than the intense desire of kissing her again.

He stopped when they got to their destination and Kagome climbed off his back. He missed the warmth of her body immediately.

“Thank you so much, InuYasha.” She walked towards the well as the hanyou muttered a quick ‘s nothing under his breath. Kagome turned around and smiled at him, an honest smile, despite of how tired she probably was. “I’ll come back in one or two days.”

The schoolgirl was about to jump into the well when InuYasha spoke, the imminent separation awakening in him the need to tell her the words he simply couldn’t wait one or two days to say.

“Kagome, wait!” She stopped to once again face him and when her inquisitive, worried eyes met his determined ones, Kagome let herself lean against the old wood of the well.

“What?” She asked, sounding somewhere between curiosity and suspicion. He walked to her.

“About that... y’know... kiss.” Kagome’s hands increased their grip on the edges of the Honekui No Ido and she closed her eyes shut, which InuYasha assumed it was the alternative to rolling them at him as she usually does. Apparantly he, with absolutely no fault of his own, could make her angry with impressive easiness.

Kagome took a deep breath while InuYasha watched a roseate tone emerge in her cheeks at a safe distance.

“We’ve been thought this, haven’t we?” Her eyes were open now, but she was looking at the ground. “I shouldn’t have kissed you, I’m sorry. I was scared that we had lost you forever and it was the only thing I could think of to bring you back. But it worked, didn’t it? We don’t have to make a big deal out of this or anything.”

“Idiot, I ain’t complaining. I... I’m trying to thank you. It was pretty brave what you did.” It really was. Kagome had gotten face to face with his youkai form in the epitome of his bloodlust and instead of running away like she should, she ran to the sharped fangs and deadly claws, only to add it to the crescent list of all the different ways that she had saved him.

At his words, she finally lifted her gaze to meet his, the ghost of a smile dancing across her lips.

“Oh! Than-”

“It was also very foolish.” That much was true as well. InuYasha shivered with the thouhts of how things could have gone wrong and each one of the scenarios were unbearably painful. Any indication of a smile vanished of her face.

“STUPID, WHAT WAS I SUPPOSED TO DO?” Kagome snapped. “You needed me.” She added, as if that was more than enough reason. The half demon was taken by the awful realization that maybe it was the only one.

“Is that so?”

“What do you mean?” The school girl blinked as InuYasha slowly walked the remaining distance between them.

“Would you ever had kissed me...” He started, feeling the heat spread across his face profusely. “For other reason than to stop my youkai transformation?” Kagome let her mouth open in surprise and only then it hit him just how many times he had stared at her lips in the short length of their conversation. It didn’t make him stop, though.

“I... That’s... W-what does this have to do with anything?” Kagome was impossibly red now and her eyes drifted to the sky, avoiding his.

“Well, would you?” He insisted, tempted to hold her face in his hands and demand every bit of her attention to himself.

“Why can’t you let this go, already?” Kagome asked, her eyes returning to his at last. “If I didn’t know any better I’d start thinking you want me to kiss you.” She tried to tease him, but her tone didn’t quite matched her words.

“Kiss me.”

“What?” InuYasha knew she had heard him just fine, not only because of the way her eyes grew exponentially wide but also because he was standing close enough to tell the exact moment she held her breath.

“Kiss me.” He repeated, and as Kagome didn’t move, InuYasha closed his eyes and leaned down until he could feel their lips join together in the kiss he was so desperately craving for.

And it was even better than he remembered. 

Their lips completed each other in such a perfect way it got him cursing himself for not have kissed her before. InuYasha heard the beats of her heart increase and smiled within the kiss. Kagome threw her arms around his neck and he took the advantage to deepen the kiss, his curious tongue exploring her mouth and getting lost in the taste of her. 

The hanyou wondered if this is how it was gonna be with them, the next kiss always overcoming the last one, and the perspective that he might just found out made a chilly feeling rise up in the pit of his stomach and spread all over his body.

InuYasha pulled away reluctantly, searching for air. Kagome only opened her eyes moments later. He has always been amazed by how bright they looked and in that moment they had never seemed more starry.

“You kissed me.” Kagome’s whisper came out of breath, somewhat unbelieving.

“You’re the one who started this whole th-” She pulled him in to another kiss before he could even finish, one hand grabbing on his clothes to bring him down to her, the other running trough his hair. InuYasha let one arm evolve her by the waist and retributed the kiss fervently.

The pair kissed again and again, until the first stars come up in the sky.

“I really need to go now.” Kagome told him between one kiss and the other, but didn't exhibit the smallest sign of resistence against his embrace.

“Then go already.” Replied him, planting kisses all over her face. “Who’s stopping ya?” InuYasha captured her lips with his once more, breaking the kiss only when her giggles forced him to.

“I’m serious. Come on, I’ll be here before you know it.”

“In two days!” He complained. Kagome smiled at his impatience.

“How about tomorrow?” Now he was the one smiling. InuYasha let his forehead rest against hers.

“Tomorrow.” He agreed, then lifted her chin and kissed her one last time, trying to compensate for the time they waisted time and for the aparted period to come. 

A/N: it’s been a while since I watched the movie so this is probably not accurate at all but screw the movie canon, am I right? I am. So... this one is to @maikosan3 for being dope. I hope you like it, dear.

[yehet-me-up]

~~WIP Title Game~~

Tagged by my wife, Mrs. Park @bread-jinie​ 💕💕💕

RULES: Post the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Send me an ask with the title that most intrigues you, or interests you and I’ll post a little snippet of it or tell you something about it! 

EXO

- It Came From The Forest (Junmyeon)

- Intoxicated (Junmyeon)

- Retribution (Jun)

- The End of Darkness (Jun)

- The Missing Inscription (Jun)

- Silver Screen Bandits (Baek)

- Ever After (Minseok feat. all)

- Freestyle (Jongin)

- The Lost Crown (Minseok) 

- Ghost in the Machine (Yixing)

- Reboot (Jongdae)

- Remember Me (Chanyeol)

- Generosity of the Gods (Chanyeol)

- Fernweh (Jongin)

- Greater Than Gold (Jongdae)

- Delayed (Baekhyun)

BTS

- Book of Shadows (all)

- Rapture of the Deep (Jin) 

GOT7 

- Lucky Day (Yugyeom)

- Proximity (Bambam)

MonstaX

- Count to Eleven (Changkyun)

- Surrender (Kihyun)

Super Junior

- Wicked Games (Leeteuk)

Tagging to do this: @vitaemin-dae @ymj-writes @softkim2​ @jeonocho​ @kpopchangedme​ @xtemptaetionx​ @liesfromalover​ @chessireneko​ @tokyoblack​ @taetaetrashhh​ @praisekinkchenanon​ (only if you want to loves!!! 💕)

[menagerie-rpg]

EVENT: STARLIGHT. START DATE & TIME: FEBRUARY 12TH, 8PM. LOCATION: OUTSIDE SAINT PETERSBURG - THE REMAINS OF ILYA VOLKOV’S STARLIGHT CARNIVAL.

In the years since Ilya Volkov's Starlight Carnival burned to the ground, it's become a ghost tale, or a horror story, among Cryptids. (Watch what you say child, or you'll be sent to the Carnival.) Once it held the same legacy Metzger's Menagerie does now, once you thought of beauty. (Watch what you do child, do you want to be part of the Cryptid graveyard?) 

Now, what's left are ruins, what's left is haunted, with a crowd of the former employees still living on its crumbling grounds. Cryptids with no where to go but a Carnival, leftovers of another time. (Watch out child, do you see something familiar?) 

This is where you find yourself, so far from anything. As Volkov gives you a home while you have nothing, a favor to Metzger. While a blizzard causes a delay in the trip to your next performance, you are stuck here. Food, sparse since yesterday. Toothpaste, if you can fight it off another. There is nowhere else to go, if you want to survive the storm. Metzger, with a meeting back in the city, is gone. Leaving only Ilya Volkov, leaving only the Cryptids. 

Which eyes seem to watch you more? 

FEBRUARY 12TH: THE ARRIVAL TO THE STARLIGHT CARNIVAL

8:00PM: The Cryptids make it to the Starlight Carnival, or at least what’s left of it. But when you have nothing to eat, it feels like a haven. The temporary train leaves you here with Metzger on it, but there’s nowhere to run, no idea of freedom amidst a blizzard. Do you even believe you could get far when the last of the Carnival’s Cryptids, left half-feral, serve as a warning that there is no where to go but here?

At dinner sitting in piles, it’s the ringmaster’s sad eyes that meet you, that says if he will try to give the visiting Menagerie anything they could wish for, that here you will be safe under his care. How he wishes he could do more for you. How he says he sees in you something he used to hold so dear.

There’s scales and old bloodied fur on the floor where you sleep. On the the walls are the list of those that died in the fire, and since. In the silence, someone murmurs tales of old rebels. Half of the old Cryptids greet you with kind eyes, the other with shaking fists and clattering teeth, and you can’t tell if its fear or a warning in their eyes.

FEBRUARY 14TH: THE BURNING OF THE STARLIGHT CARNIVAL

2:00PM: It starts small, the sense of independence, the sense of unity among Cryptids. A small group agrees to help both circuses be fed tonight and next week; a promise to go to the city and return with everything they need. It reminds you of Vegas almost, the claims to the guards that some got lost in the blizzard, allowing groups to slip under watchful eyes. If you have decided to stay, hands are still in need to help repair falling sleepers, old dining carts.  

5:00PM: But not all things last. While people are just beginning to return home, you smell it first, the flames where the sleepers are. It’s here you hear the screams of only your own from the Menagerie in a room already feeling like death. It’s here you bang on doorways, it’s here you pull out Cryptids just before walls collapse, before fire continues to spread.

You blame the Carnival, because why would you burn your own? And they blame you, because why would they destroy their own home? You think them half-mad from isolation and hunger, and both want retribution. Among a few, snow turns red, and hands turn into fists. You take shelter in the other abandoned buildings of the Carnival, you tend to your wounded, you try to hide the food you took from the city from the Carnival’s Cryptids. Hours later, you wonder if you willingly ran out of this ghost circus -- or if you were chased out into the snow and woods surrounding the Carnival, stranded.

12:00AM: In the night, more smoke rises from the sky; you can see it from the trees, the carnival now burned to the ground. In the night, you see a figure. You see him crying, covered in ash. You see Volkov telling you all to follow him, and to run as fires only grow. And you trust him, because you have no choice, or you truly believe his panicked eyes. 

You believe the story he tells that the Carnival Cryptids ran away, that he still has a promise to keep you all safe as he leads you into the city. You believe him when he tells you that the rumors are true -- the Carnival Cryptids did burn down the circus, someone behind it wanting violent power again. You believe him, because in the dark, man turns into a red shadow to lead the way. You believe him when he asks you to keep the secret. Metzger doesn’t know.

In the morning, when you see the train that left you days ago, you hear the news that Metzger offers Volkov to stay as a guest; a favor to an old friend.

WELCOME TO STARLIGHT CARNIVAL & OUR 6TH EVENT!

While a blizzard causes a delay in the trip to their next performance, the Cryptids have been dropped off at the door step of none other than ILYA VOLKOV’S STARLIGHT CARNIVAL. Though, it is more of a ghost story -- made in the likeness of horror -- than a short-term home. And it’s a ghost story the Cyrptids become a part of, when the circus burns down before their eyes. The Cryptids saved from flames and blizzard with the help of Volkov himself, who shares the truth on why his Carnival burned, and perhaps the Cryptids finally have an ally on their side.

Have fun with the new event, lovelies! But also, we’d like to thank you guys for allowing us to reach 5 MONTHS of being active as a roleplay! We can’t do any of this without you guys and we can’t thank you enough!!!

As mentioned, we will need several volunteers, and please note that the cryptids do not have to be among a certain stratum for any of these spots. If you would like to volunteer your character, please MESSAGE US!

FOUR TO FIVE VOLUNTEERS to be part of the city food run: CARTER, JIN, CEYDRAN, XUE, JESSICA.

TWO TO FOUR VOLUNTEERS to be caught in the fire: EMME, RAAFE, SOREN, NOAH.

FOUR TO SIX VOLUNTEERS to be part of the group saving those the fire: AURA, LINK, LI HUA, ADELITA, ATA.

The dates for threads have been updated on the main’s sidebar as well. We’ll be right here if you have any questions about the event, or even if you have ideas of events you would like to see in the near future!

[poisedalacrity-blog]

reflections

;;timeline -- post forsaken

If there was a word for the convoluted mess of a feeling in Veles’ chest, the Nightstalker didn’t know it. She had served her purpose on the Tangled Shore, minding her record keeping and historian flavored work, deeper truths still yet being uncovered and saved for generations to come. For a peoples on the brink of extinction and working valiantly to come back, it’d only felt right. Someone had to be unbiased and keep accurate records of the world around them, how the living shaped it and impacted it.

She’d expected to feel something, anything, once out on the front lines. Guardians suffering grief and anger, spilling blood and tainted ether for their vengeance and justice--Veles had thought she’d feel some camaraderie with them. Assuming her lack of genuine care over Cayde-6′s death was just a symptom of a delayed emotional response. But no anger had welled up in her breast, no desire for retribution made itself known, Veles had been content in doing what she always did.

As hands peeled away her gear, stripping down now she was back in the privacy of her hideaway on Io, the Nightstalker allowed her thoughts to wander. The hissing of her helmet depressurizing was all that broke the silence in her cave-turned-home, and the soft whirring of her Ghost drifting about to tidy up in his own way. 

“...Boss, it’s time.”

Veles knew when she left Io the first time, she’d never be coming back to stay. Every adventure brought more world view shattering experiences with it, and she had her share. Her fight was not on the Tangled Shore, but seeing those who had gone in guns blazing brought with them simple truths. How many among them weren’t ready for the Shore--but charged in all the same? Fighting with every intention to kill, fueled by the passion of hatred and grief and rage.

Too many were too young for it, even under the guidance of older peers.

Motes of Light sparked in the air and the Nightstalker held out her hands, a neatly folded pile landing in outstretched palms--Gensym Knight gear never once worn before and looking too clean in her grasp. Veles could still remember the day Asher had ushered her aside to present her with it, payment for a job well done several times over. And she could still yet remember the words she’d muttered to him, then, of thanks and apologizing for not wearing it.

That there would, eventually, come a day when she donned it--an unspoken understanding that Veles would wear it, to represent him and her loyalty to him, when she left his side.

The Qiao’s set she’d been proud of earning from Tess was forgotten before loose pieces had even hit the floor after taking it off. Brief flashes of the memory of pale blue fingers brushing against her to take her measurements kept a sad smile on Veles’ lips as every piece was snapped into place, only her gauntlets remaining a constant in her gear change.

[ Are you going to go say goodbye to him? Tell him how you feel? ]

Veles couldn’t help it--she laughed,

“you know how Asher is about sentimental stuff like that. What, I’ll waltz in to announce my return from the Shores, profess my undying affection for him, and then leave again? No, Boss. I’m gonna stop by to let him know I’m heading out and I’ll be back when I can be. He’ll...understand I may be gone for some time.” Her hand smoothed down over her torso, gaze lingering on her gear, Boss giving an agitated sort of beep,

[ What if he asks where you’re going? Are you going to tell him you’re off to the Infinite Forest? Risk getting lost and not being able to come back out for what again, exactly? Maybe finding a cure for his affliction? Having another chapter to write in your history books? And what if, Veles, what if he asks you to stay? ]

She knew her Ghost’s anger was born of fear, fear for her, her well being.

“Boss, we watched Guardians a mere fraction of our age fighting on the Shores. No real experience, relying on the older ones who accepted them into their impromptu folds...none of them were ready for a revenge fueled murder quest. They knew they weren’t ready, you could see it in their damned faces. But they were still there, pushing themselves to do something that had every likelihood of ending in their final deaths, because they believed it the right thing to do in the face of losing Cayde.”

“I don’t want to wait until Asher dies to feel that same motivation to go above and beyond what I think I’m capable of. If I can help him find an answer, then I must.”

His last question was one Veles wanted to skirt, but her Ghost waited, expectantly, almost smugly. She winced, then, looking away from him as her new helmet was finally put on.

“...if he asks me to stay, I’d stay, and you know that. But he won’t. You know that he won’t, and if you try to tell him where exactly I’m going in the hopes he stops me, I’m not sure I’d be able to forgive you, Boss. If there’s a cure for his affliction, I have a greater chance of finding it in the Infinite Forest than I do here.”

“I don’t want to feel what everyone else felt over Cayde, Boss, please don’t make this harder on me than it already is. I don’t want to lose him without being able to say I did everything I can to help."

“Hate to say it, but I do love him. He’ll never know it, I’ll never tell him. But I love him. And I’m no longer content to sit around idly, not after...not after everything that’s happened."

[paulsebert]

Secret Empire #1 Thoughts & Spoilers

Secret Empire #0 Recap

Previously: The Red Skull used Korbik (a sentient cosmic cube that sometimes takes a child’s form) to turn Captain America into a bad guy. Captain America is now a loyal agent of Hydra an evil organization that is sometimes Nazi affiliated and sometimes not depending on who is writing. Captain America planned a bunch of bad stuff behind everyone’s back. Captain America turned on his evil master.  Red Skull desperate to make Cap stop admitted that Captain America that his new history (that we saw in extensive flashbacks over many issues) was all lies he made up. Captain America doesn’t care because he’s EEEEVIL! He kills Red Skull and sets out to take over the world… his way!

Captain America sets about a frankly ludicrous plan to take over the world that involves enough material for several crossovers.  In fact much of them is stolen from other crossovers.  New York City is trapped under a magic dome, an act of congress has given Cap control over the army, all of S.H.I.E.L.D has been mind controlled, and both the Guardians of the Galaxy & The Ultimates are trapped in space fighting aliens.  Our comic ended with cliffhanger as dozens of Heli-Carriers were advancing on Washington. Meanwhile in the tie-in books it appears that everyone who knows that the world has changed is dead/MIA.  As previously mentioned Captain America killed Red Skull.  Winter Soldier (who hasn't been good since Ed Brubaker wrote him) was seemingly killed by Helmut Zemo (who hasn't been good since Fabian Nicieza wrote him.)  Korbik blew up because Jim Zub didn't know how to give Thunderbolts and ending but she's a magic space/time cube and can come back.

Notes: So Marvel went ahead and sent a press release saying that things are going to more or less go back to their old status quo to ABC.  So yes folks Marvel is basically saying “yeah Cap's going to be a hero before this is all over.”  So obviously they must be sweating the backlash so badly that they're either nervous about further losing sales or someone at Disney called and threatened to take Cap away.  Maybe they threatened to give him to that weird Canadian company that did the Big Hero 6 movie adaption. You know the one that's not even on Comixology...

Also do you think maybe Marvel could have avoided a lot of trouble if they had used A.I.M. or another villain organization that couldn't be mistaken for Nazis? Like they could have given away cardboard beekeeper helmets!  That would have been fun!

Remember how Daniel Acuña's art was pretty much the only thing I liked about Secret Empire 0?  He's gone.  Say hello to Steve McNiven on pencils.  He's ok...

We open up for a parent dropping his kid off to school. The kids are being told to salute Hydra. Yep Hydra's already taken over and we haven't seen how.  One of the kids is wearing a T-shirt of Hive an obscure villain from Secret Warriors. If Hydra is trying to go mainstream to get public acceptance maybe they could do better than to choose to make the hideous parasite man the guy who gets merchandise?

The kids are being taught that the Allies winning World War II was an illusion.  You know if you wanted to play the Hydra's a secret society different from Nazis maybe you should have gotten away from the World War II references. This is all supposed to be creepy but it's so sudden cartoonish it fails to be any kind of commentary on creeping fascism while failing to work in the context of the story.Turns out one of the kid's older brothers is an Inhuman who has the power to vomit lunch boxes or something. That's still a less stupid power than Jet Black from Rick Remender's run.  He's arrested by Hydra I.C.E. because of symbolism.

Actual Narration: “It's funny living in a world where the impossible happens. Where every time you look up there's some war, or invasion, or attack. And people say this will “Change everything” That “Nothing Will Ever be the same again.” You hear it so much you stop believing it. You're even surprised when it actually happens.” - Even the actual characters in Marvel comics are sick of crossovers.

Meanwhile Captain Marvel is in space to remind us that she and her team are still locked out of a force field.  Despite being on a team of people who were smart enough to figure out a way to reform Galatctus and having a teammate who can punch wholes in space and time she decides to try punching the force field.  It doesn't work and Carol comes across as not very bright.

Hydra Goons are chasing a teenager.  Amedeus Cho the Totally Awesome Hulk makes the save. Actual Dialog: “You're the Hulk. That's good.”  “Why good?” Because if anyone has a spare set of pants...” - Ok that was a good one.

The new Falcon, Iron Heart, The Champions, and Wasp help the kid escape Hydra's reinforcements. We're teased a chase scene involving the Fantasticar and Robot Soldiers but we cut away from that before it can get exciting. The kid’s name is Rayshaun Lucas and we’re introduced to him over and over again.

Meanwhile in Denver the evil Captain America is... calmly trying to talk a giant monster out of eating people.  It's a borderline comic scene more akin to something out of Spencer's work on Superior Foes of Spider-Man.  This book is having some really jarring tone shifts.

The monster won't listen to Captain America's request to leave so he calls the EVIL Avengers featuring featuring Thor Odinson, Deadpool, Scarlet Witch, Vision, Irredeamable Ant Man/Black Ant, Taskmaster, and Superior Doc Ock.  Ok is Scarlet Witch mind controlled? (That happens once every three months.)  Has vision been reprogrammed?  Is Deadpool too naive to know Cap's a bad guy now, because that I could totally see.  

We have a montage page of Hydra's propaganda news network boasting about a high stock market, falling unemployment, and job opportunities while various members of Hydra Command are presented as heroes. There's a clever idea here but you'll find more chilling fascist propaganda on an episode of Fox and Friends.  Did this book turn into a comedy all of a sudden after how super grimadark issue #0 was?

At Hydra high command evil Captain America looks bored while the villains discuss their schemes including a mind control plot (why else is Faustus here) and relations with Magneto's new sovereign republic north of California.  Magneto has a country again?  When did this happen?

Kraken is part of the Hydra Legion of Doom.  Wasn't he revealed to be a mole for Nick Fury all along in Secret Warriors?

We cut back to flying car/robot chase scene. FINALLY something exciting is happening in the comic! The heroes wreck the Welcome to Los Vegas sign.  It's the best action scene in the comic so far and... it's all of one page.

The Hydra Legion of Doom is talking about what to do about the good guys.  Zemo complains about Los Vegas being essentially a sanctuary city. Arnim Zola complains that Hydra Cap actually gave pardons to the freedom fighters the day Hydra took over.  So either Hydra Cap's a really incompetent bad guy or he's actually a mole whose plan was subvert Hydra's plot to take over by.. letting Hydra take over?  Either way he comes across as kinda dumb.

The bad guys want some kind of retribution against Los Vegas.  Zola wants to blow stuff up with the robot soldier.  Faustus wants to use mind control because of course he does.  Hydra Cap wants to do neither. They also complain that Hydra Cap keeps delaying the executions.  The lunchbox vomiting guy we saw earlier is being taken to a prison camp. Again Marvel if you don't want people to think Hydra=Nazis maybe you shouldn't include anything that can be interpreted as a concentration camp.

The Champions take Rayshaun Lucas back to their Super Secret Mountain Playset (other action figures and vehicles sold separately!)  Hakweye and Black Widow are there.  They're suspicious of Lucas. He has some kind of file that Rick Jones gave him that is our new mcguffin because it can win the war or... make Cap normal or something.

Hydra Cap is now trying have a romantic dinner with Sharon Carter oblivious to the fact that he is now a fascist villain and she is her prisoner. This is like a gag from the Venture brothers.  What am I looking at? Did Spencer say “fuck this crossover!!! I want to write comedy books again?”

Sharon asks Steve to spare Rick Jones.  Cap goes to visit Rick Jones in prison.  Steve is kinda chummy with Rick and once again seems totally oblivious to the fact he's a villain. Steve asks Rick to say “Hail Hydra.”  Rick refuses but says that Captain America will always come out on top.  Steve pouts as romantic music plays.

Rayshaun meets the new Giant Man and Force Ghost Tony Stark (long story). I swear this is like the fourth or fifth page where Rayshaun Lucas says “I'm Rayshaun Lucas.” This kid’s getting a spin-off book isn’t he? Rayshaun wants Tony to look at the thing Rick gave him but Tony is being sad and bitter. We get one panel flashbacks to fight scenes that happened off camera.

Black Widow and Hawkeye have a funny moment. I won’t spoil the punchline.

We briefly catch  glimpse of Dr. Strange trapped in the Dark Dimension. At least he's not trying to punch his way out like Carol.  Steve meets with the new Madam Hydra and she's really polite and friendly. She wants Hydracap to find the cosmic cube.

Actual dialog: “The rest of this who lives who dies is nothing but a distraction, you must remember that.”  We're going to get some sort of cosmic reset button aren't we?

Hydra Cap pouts as he's about to make a speech while Hydra goons execute Rick Jones. How many times as Ric Jones died now?  Also for a book that's being sold on the basis of “What if Captain America was totally evil” there's a lot of scenes of HydraCap either being oblivious to the fact he's evil or sad he has to be evil.

The line “Evil had finally won” is used so... I guess we can add Final Crisis to the crossover shout-out list from my recap of last issue.

Things are all super grimdark again and we have a cliffhanger where Helicarriers are attacking Los Vegas.  Is this going to be like the last cliffhanger where all the action happens off camera?

Final Thoughts

Issue #0 was a thousand different action scenes going on at once with no space to breath.  This one is better in the sense there's actual space for the character moments but... the tone changes are absolutely baffling. You'll get a couple of pages of superhero action followed by pages that are borderline self-parody by LOOK AT HOW GRIM WE ARE!  It's absolutely all over the map and considering that Spencer and Marvel had a year to set things up it speaks volumes to how poorly thought out this is.  Once again Hydra acts more like Cobra than actual Nazis but the world War II references kind of make it impossible to divorce them from Nazis which well... makes them a lot less fun villains. None of the cliffhangers from the zero issue have payoffs.  It's just “The Bad Guys” have taken over now!  And yeah there's still one of the underlying problems with the first issue.  The book doesn't go far enough from the “So Cap's a Nazi now?” complaints to make it just a fun superhero story yet doesn't go far enough with the “So Cap's a Nazi now?” to actually say something about actual creeping fascism in modern culture.

Characters on the cover that are not in the actual book: Storm, The Human Torch, Thor (Jane Foster), Ms. Marvel, Medusa, and Rocket Raccoon.

[kayawagner]

Worlds Without Master Issue 1-11 [BUNDLE]

Publisher: Dig a Thousand Holes Publishing

This special bundle product contains the following titles.

Worlds Without Master, Issue 10 Regular price: $3.99 Bundle price: $3.59 Format: PDF Issue ten of Worlds Without Master, an adventure fiction and gaming magazine featuring sword & sorcery short fiction and games from Epidiah Ravachol and many others. In this issue: "Because I Clasp the Clouds As Mine," a tale of a shifting identity by Osmond Arnesto. "The Hoard of Yengra," a tale of commerce and justice by Epidiah Ravachol. Illustrations by Wendy Martin, Vlada Monakhova, and Tiffany Turrill. Another installment of Bryant Paul Johnson's comic Oh, the Beating Drum! The Dread Geas of Duke Vulku, a game of horror and wonder based on the game Dread by the original author, Epidiah Ravachol. A miscellany of delays and distractions for any journey. And full-color cover art by Jabari Weathers. ... Worlds Without Master, Issue 11 Regular price: $3.99 Bundle price: $3.59 Format: PDF Issue eleven of Worlds Without Master, an adventure fiction and gaming magazine featuring sword & sorcery short fiction and games from Epidiah Ravachol and many others. In this issue: "The Shape of the World," a tale of sorcerous rivalry, ancient love and death by Epidiah Ravachol. "The Spirits of the Forest Apes," another monstrous tale of Kassmamon the Ranger by Dylan Craine.  Illustrations by Dagmara Matuszak, Tina X Filic and Jabari Weathers. The next installment of Rachel Kahn's comic about a community besieged by Wolf Neighbours. Amazons, a game of adventure and devotion by Vincent Baker. A miscellany of far off sights and portents. And full-color cover art by Tawny Fritzinger. ... Worlds Without Master, Issue 8 Regular price: $3.99 Bundle price: $3.59 Format: PDF Issue eight of Worlds Without Master, an adventure fiction and gaming ezine featuring sword & sorcery short fiction and games from Epidiah Ravachol and many others. In this issue: "In Pankech: the Ghost's Chambers," another Jakko Orange and Tam-tam adventure by Vincent Baker. "In Search of a Slaying," a tale of patience and hunger by Epidiah Ravachol. Illustrations by Nate Marcel, Patricia Smith, and Jabari Weathers. Another installment of Bryant Paul Johnson's comic Oh, the Beating Drum! No Longer With Us, a game about what happens when adventures gather to lay a companion to rest by Dymphna Coy and Josh T. Jordan. A miscellany of treasures bizarre and rare. And full-color cover art by Gennifer Bone. ... Worlds Without Master, Issue 9 Regular price: $3.99 Bundle price: $3.59 Format: PDF Issue nine of Worlds Without Master, an adventure fiction and gaming ezine featuring sword & sorcery short fiction and games from Epidiah Ravachol and many others. In this issue: "Nine Years of Mourning," a tale of a vengeance that crosses the world by P.H. Lee. "High Upon the Table of the World," a tale of a doomed hunt by Epidiah Ravachol. Illustrations by Jeff Brown, Maegan Cook, Andrew DeFelice, Delfino Falciani, Tina X Filic, Ed Heil, Jenna Kass, Chris L. Kimball, Dagmara Matuszak, Lorenzo Palermo, Eric Quigley,Andrea Scott, Kim Sokol, and Jabari Weathers. The very first installment of Rachel Kahn's brand new comic Wolf Neighbours. Masks of the Mummy Kings, a gam... Worlds Without Master, Volume 1, Issue 1 Regular price: $3.99 Bundle price: $3.59 Format: PDF The very first issue of Worlds Without Master (formerly known at Words Without Master), an adventure fiction and gaming ezine featuring sword & sorcery short fiction and games from Epidiah Ravachol and many others. In this issue:  “In Ssef Seat: the Cannibal Queen,” a tale of dark debauchery from D. Vincent Baker and the debut adventure of the scofflaw Jakko Orange; "Strange Bireme," tale of fishermen and stars featuring Manyara & Snorri written by Epidiah Ravachol; Enter the Avenger, a roleplaying game of swords, sorcery, and the troubling insecurities of vengeance by Rafu (Raffaele Manzo); Illustrations from Ed Heil, Storn Cook, and Tazio Bettin; "Oh, the Beating Drum!" a sword & sorcery comic from Bryant Paul Johnson; And a miscella... Worlds Without Master, Volume 1, Issue 2 Regular price: $3.99 Bundle price: $3.59 Format: PDF Issue two of Worlds Without Master, an adventure fiction and gaming ezine featuring sword & sorcery short fiction and games from Epidiah Ravachol and many others. In this issue: "One Winter's Due," a story about vengeance, family and crossed oaths, by Epidiah Ravachol. "Historia Imperio--Part 1," the beginning of the history of Keith Senkowski's Conspiracy of Shadows world, fiction and cartography by Keith himself. Wolfspell, a roleplaying game about wolves with the human blood in their veins, by Epidiah Ravachol. Illustrations by Rachel Kahn, Delfino Falciani, and Andrew DeFelice. Yet another installment of "Oh, the Beating Drum!" a comic about the everyday life of adventurers by Bryant Paul Johnson. And a miscellany of ill omens. ... Worlds Without Master, Volume 1, Issue 3 Regular price: $3.99 Bundle price: $3.59 Format: PDF Featuring the complete Swords Without Master roleplaying game! Issue three of Worlds Without Master, an adventure fiction and gaming ezine featuring sword & sorcery short fiction and games from Epidiah Ravachol and many others. In this issue: "A Slaying in Smoke," a story of cults and fashion, by Epidiah Ravachol. "In Taruve: the Merchant Train," another tale of Jakko Orange and his "niece" Tam-tam by D. Vincent Baker. Illustrations by Steven Austion, Jeremy Duncan, Ed Heil, Storn Cook, and Chris L. Kimball. More "Oh, the Beating Drum!" from Bryant Paul Johnson. And Swords Without Master. a sword & sorcery roleplaying game by Epidiah Ravachol. ... Worlds Without Master, Volume 1, Issue 4 Regular price: $3.99 Bundle price: $3.59 Format: PDF Issue four of Worlds Without Master, an adventure fiction and gaming ezine featuring sword & sorcery short fiction and games from Epidiah Ravachol and many others. In this issue: "Two Swords of Mars," a tale of swashbuckling upon the red planet, by Rose Bailey. "The Prize of Banteteth," another Snorri & Manyara tale by Epidiah Ravachol. Illustrations by Gary McCluskey and Jon Taylor. More "Oh, the Beating Drum!" from Bryant Paul Johnson. "See New Places, Meet Interesting People & Visit Retribution Upon Them," a supplement supplement to Enter the Avenger (found in issue 1) by Rafu. And a full-color cover by Rachel Kahn ... Worlds Without Master, Volume 1, Issue 5 Regular price: $3.99 Bundle price: $3.59 Format: PDF Issue five of Worlds Without Master, an adventure fiction and gaming ezine featuring sword & sorcery short fiction and games from Epidiah Ravachol and many others. In this issue: "The Trial of the Crimson Ribbon," a tale of insufferable and indomitable curses by Jason Keeley. "Day of the Coward," a tale of survival in an altered state of consciousness by Epidiah Ravachol. Illustrations by Russell Ashley, Juan Ochoa, and Manuela Soriani. The continuing adventures of adventurers in the latest installment of "Oh, the Beating Drum!" by Bryant Paul Johnson. Sorceress Bloody Sorceress, a game of intrigue, murder and, of course, sorcery by Epidiah Ravachol. And a miscellany repasts nourishing and nefarious. ... Worlds Without Master, Volume 1, Issue 6 Regular price: $3.99 Bundle price: $3.59 Format: PDF Issue six of Worlds Without Master, an adventure fiction and gaming ezine featuring sword & sorcery short fiction and games from Epidiah Ravachol and many others. In this issue: "From Salted Earth," a tale of necromancy and redemption by Evan Dicken. "The Pebble Ballad," an epistolary tale of century-spanning sorcery by Epidiah Ravachol. Illustrations by Delfino Falciani, Ed Heil, and Eric Quigley. Yet another episode of "Oh, the Beating Drum!" a comic by Bryant Paul Johnson. A Scoundrel in the Deep, a game of darkness and fire by Renato Ramonda and developed by Flavio Mortarino. A miscellany of experiences unseen. And full-color cover art by Jeff Brown. ... Worlds Without Master, Volume 1, Issue 7 Regular price: $3.99 Bundle price: $3.60 Format: PDF Issue seven of Worlds Without Master, an adventure fiction and gaming ezine featuring sword & sorcery short fiction and games from Epidiah Ravachol and many others. In this issue: "Three Came Upon a Fire," a tale of fire, storm, and other tales by Epidiah Ravachol. "The Spider & the Forest Apes," a tale of with a monstrous protagonist by Dylan Craine. Illustrations by Gennifer Bone, Chris L. Kimball, and Juan Ochoa. For the first time among these pages, Barbarian Lord, a comic by Matt Smith. Invisible Empire, a game of wondrous and horrifying geography by Epidiah Ravachol. A miscellany of ill-fates. And full-color cover art by Evan Rowland. ...

Total value: $43.89 Special bundle price: $39.50 Savings of: $4.39 (10%)

Price: $43.89 Worlds Without Master Issue 1-11 [BUNDLE] published first on https://supergalaxyrom.tumblr.com