#do you know how insect life cycles work

[aaravos-answers]

Do you pay child support on Sir Sparklepuff?

Why would I? It is no child, it is the adult stage. The caterpillar was the child.

[circeyoru]

The Spirit’s Favourite Human

[Human!Alastor x Spirit of the Forest!Reader]

Part 1 (here)

Part 2

It started with a one-sided meeting. Your home, which was an old willow tree, was threatened by a waste product of some hunters in your forest. It was going to burn your home! But then another man, a hunter since he was holding the same weapons the other hunters would, picked up the cigarette and extinguished it

That started your interest in him

As the trees and birds would tell you, he was a frequent visitor to the forest. With your tiny stature, you could watch him while staying out of sight. You never dared to follow him out of the forest, however, since it would put you in danger. Whenever he was in the forest, you’d shrink yourself and travel by bird to watch the man that you learned was Alastor

The trees and bird told you something bizarre, though. Alastor would bring other people into the forest and bury them. You confirmed it as you sensed the sorrowful souls’ bodies screaming in agony and pain before they were whisked away to Heaven or Hell. Your duty was only to watch over and protect the forest, so matters of life and death of the humans mattered not to you

You made a habit of pushing the bodies deeper into the Earth, they were good fertiliser for the trees and insects in the ground, so you weren’t going to say no to that. You thought of it as gifts from Alastor. You were a Spirit, so how could you understand that killing another human being was frowned upon? In nature, death was as normal as the cycle of night and day

Once, you were alerted by the trees that Alastor was visiting but in danger. The birds told you he was being chased by a pack of dogs with clothes. So they were special ones that were trained. Alastor was your saviour and had done good to the forest more times than you can keep track of, so you naturally went to help him

The wind was on your side as the birds quickly brought you to where Alastor was. Wound and tired, he tried to keep his distance from the dogs behind him. You intercepted, appearing in your normal size (still smaller than Alastor by a head and then some). You blew mist at the dogs, disrupting their sense of smell with heavy pollen, then you grabbed Alastor and went deeper into the forest, you knew this place like the back of your hand, so you got the perfect hiding spot

In the tree hole, the two of you stayed quiet while waiting for the coast to be cleared. After a few moments or so, the trees told you you were safe and the dogs had left. You got out and stretched a bit, not used to being cramped up. You watched curiously as Alastor fell out, holding his body with his hands. He’s hurt. You got close to him, ignoring his words and healed him with the forest’s help

When it was done, you nodded at your handy work. You froze when Alastor grabbed your hand and kissed it, he thanked you and introduced himself

But all your mind registered was human touch! Bad! A gush of wind blew at Alastor, making him shut his eyes and you were gone when he opened his eyes again. He looked at his hand, empty

Back with you, you tried your best to calm down. Human contract was something you never had, sure you acted as spirit guides to lead lost children out of the forest, but never had you had physical touch from one. Now that you think about it, you held Alastor first. Ohhh… This was your problem…

From that day onwards, you avoided Alastor like the plague, if you know what that was, and only received news from your bird friends and the trees. Like before, you’d still push those bodies down down down. The only difference was the following closely was gone

And Alastor felt that. He treasured this forest very much, because it was the perfect place for him to hide the bodies. He noticed that the previously buried bodies were buried deeper than humanly possible, and it was surely not his doing. What’s more was if he didn’t mark it down, he would have missed the burial spot, it was hidden perfectly

Now that he knew of your existence and powers over the forest, he knew it was you who watched him whenever he was in the forest and helped him with his body hiding from the dogs and police. You were his perfect accomplice and you didn’t even know

He wanted to get to know you, to meet you more formally and professionally. Maybe you could solve much more problems he has. Like the marriage proposal that fills his mailbox or creates an alibi in case people are suspicious of him. There was so much potential that could benefit him!

“Darling! Lady of the Forest!” Alastor shouted as he tried to get you to show yourself. He’d been trying to meet you since that day you rescued him, but you were nowhere to be found

He turned to more desperate and drastic measures, like putting himself in danger or appearing to be in a life or death situation to get you to act. You were saving him from dogs last time, so the same logic should do this time

It doesn’t 

So he tried something else

Mimzy became the perfect piece of the puzzle. Her being all over him, too much for his comfort. But his efforts are bearing fruit as he felt your familiar stare, though with envy and malice now

You were beyond confused at the feeling you had. It was fiery and twisted, also foreign to you and not something you’ll feel usually. Then again this Alastor had been making you feel a lot more than what you’re used to

You literally teleported to where Alastor and the other human was when your friends of the forest told you the news. Oh how livid you were when you saw the other human all over Alastor

Were they enjoying their time together? The first is a lovely place for intimate moments. You have seen pairs come into the forest to do some questionable actions, but you just stay clear of the place

For some reason, Alastor and that human do the same made you want to order the wolves to devour that stupid human

But then you were destroyed by Alastor’s actions. A human dressed like her would not just go to this forest, he was the one that brought her here. So you backed away from the pair. Perhaps it was because you avoided him that he lost interest in you and picked someone of his race 

No no no no no! Your stare was losing its intensity and ill will! Why? It was going so well too! He couldn’t help it and acted before anything, before your presence and stare were gone

Your eyes widened at the blood-curdling scream echoed. When you turned around, the human was lying down and crying, Alastor was stabbing a knife at her chest repeatedly while the blood pooled beneath them 

You didn’t even realize you stepped in his line of sight until his eyes met yours. This hunter didn’t just hunt the creatures of the forest, he hunted the other faces of his race

There you were. Finally, in front of him again. It took him a while, but the wait was worth it, given your divine beauty. He’d go as far as to say you’re a goddess! 

“My dearest, it has been a while.” He greeted with a smile as he ignored the body below him that was one of his closest friends

You opened your mouth, but then closed it. Though you understand human language, you couldn’t communicate in it

So you only nodded your head with a small smile. Telepathically, your honey-sweet voice echoed in his head, even with the distortion like an unresponsive radio, he understood, “Greetings to you as well, Alastor.”

Note: Experimenting on posting writings. Format might change in the future. cause this is the first time I've done this (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

Circe Y.

MASTERLIST

[amerricanartwork]

Hi! I just wondered if you've played Hollow Knight based off how much you like Rain World. I'd be interested in any thoughts you had on it. :)

Thanks for the ask! No, I have not yet played Hollow Knight, BUT my interest in the game has been piqued! However I still have to see if the gameplay itself seems up my alley, or get invested enough in the characters that I want to discover more than I've already found out (and I have spoiled quite a lot for myself) before I actually decide to buy the game.

Regardless, from what I do know it does seem like an interesting story, albeit one far more tragic than Rain World's in my opinion. The characters I've seen are also pretty cool, both in design and personality. In fact, it was some ship fanart I found a few weeks ago that got me interested in diving deeper into the game once I realized it was where the featured characters were from, especially since one of the characters I had remembered hearing about before.

Here's a little sketch of some characters I was thinking about and whom I've been meaning to draw for a bit! Hornet because she's very Shaped™, Quirrel because from what I've seen he's quite wholesome, and Tiso because he was the first character I heard about and I think he's kinda silly!

Also, some more comparing/contrasting thoughts about the game below:

Firstly, I like how the premise of Kollow Knight involves anthropomorphic insects! It's something I never realized until recently despite being aware of HK for at least a few years, but I usually tend to take interest in stories starring non-humanoid creatures, so it's a plus! I also enjoy the more gothic/Victorian-looking magical high fantasy aesthetic, though it's pretty different from Rain World, which I'd consider far more sci-fi and specbio-esque in its aesthetic.

Now to get into themes, so far Hollow Knight seems to share Rain World's theme of lost/dead civilizations, which is also a very interesting premise to me! However, HK seems to have a greater focus on interacting with the people of its dying civilization and as such you get far more definitive knowledge about what happened to cause it to collapse. The player character seems to take on more of a classic epic hero role, because from what I've heard about the lore and endings, they end up directly influencing the fate of Hallownest, even potentially destroying or defeating the force that caused its ruin. The visuals have this very dark, cool tint overall to sell that gloomy, mournful vibe, and the structures, while presumably old, are still mostly smooth, ornate, and not super deteriorated, with these castle or manor-like appearances more similar to real-life buildings or things in other high fantasy works. Then, the orchestral music I've heard alongside all of these elements really creates this impression in me that it's aesthetic and overall concept is more akin to a high fantasy epic tale, albeit a rather tragic one.

Meanwhile, Rain World seem to have the player take more of an anthropologist role, observing and trying to piece together the story of vast remnants of its dead civilization, which seem alien and impossibly complex because so much of the history they're from has been lost to time. One of the core themes is being very small compared to these long abandoned structures, to really sell the idea that this history is so much older and more intricate than you'll ever know. The colors of Rain World are often warmer, which can be associated with old things, and the structures are far more weathered and broken down, with the only living survivors of the people who made them being the iterators, whom we only get to hear directly from two of. Combined with the focus on simulating an ecosystem, the more directly religious ideas within, the themes of natural cycles and an entire civilization evolving, changing, and ultimately disappearing over deep time, and the overall alien, sci-fi industrial designs of the architexture and strange creature designs that look like things out of "Of Rust and Humus" or some other alien speculative biology worldbuilding project make RW fit well in with that genre of fiction in my opinion.

Sorry if I seem like I kinda took a sudden shift there, but I wanted to talk about this contrast in artistic aesthetics and story genres for a moment because the "lasting impression" an art piece creates something I've recently concluded is pretty important overall in works of art, at least for mine!

But anyway, I hope these thoughts were satisfying for now! Thanks again for the ask!

[cherrycherryking]

Wally x gardener puppet? Idk the concept to me seems cute,,,,

the concept is SO cute!! I know it was just supossed to be wally x reader but i looove concepts for welcom home characters!! like, how would you interact with the neighboorhood? what stuff would you teach?

┴┬┴┬┴┬┴┬┴┬┴┬┴┬┴┬┴┬┴┬┴┬┴┬┴┬┴┬┴┬┴┬┴┬┴┬┴

wally darling x gen!reader (platonic or romantic!) + drawings

Gardener Puppet Reader

────────────

✧You're a puppet like Wally or Julie! Your little house is mostly took over by the garden behind it, and most of your segments take place in your work table.

✧You talk about...well, plants! Easy ways to start kids on gardening with plants like beans or herbs. Your segments crossover to recycling and all things around taking care of the planet.

✧For this reasons you would often appear with Frank when it got to talking about insects or more technicalities about plants like bees or their life cycle! With arts and crafts to reuse trash Julie and Wally would accompany you :)

✧When not in your house you could be seen taking care of the flowers around the neighborhood, stocking food on Howdy's store or bringing fresh produce for Poppy's baking segments!

✧Look!! Its You!!! (or just an outfit idea)

✧Only gray so you can decide the color palette. I also thought it would be funny for you to be a scarecrow but that i leave up to you.

───────────.★..─╮ Wally x Reader part!! ─..★.───────────╯

✧As said before, Wally would appear in your segments about recycled projects

✧I like to think that Wally is really good at all types of paintings but not so much with arts and crafts.

✧Everytime hes your co-host the camera will be looking at you doing an explanation of the steps, cut to wally and:

✧Home has pretty white flowers outside, so you take care of them :) A good couple of episodes start with Wally looking out the windows or getting out of Home and saying finding you there!!

✧One day you decided to gift your friends some pretty plants, and for Wally you decided on an Aloe.

✧He's so so happy with the gift!! He promises to take good care of it.

✧It was nothing really, Wally has always been a dear person to you. He was so calm and smooth and charming that you couldn't help but want to hang around him all of the time.

✧And it seemed he thought the same about you,

✧Your patience with his mess ups, your sweet words of encouragement, the care you took of Home so its flowers and bushes were always healthy made his heart melt!

✧That's why he looked so sad when you opened the door after you heard his knocking.

✧"I am so sorry y/n, the plant you gifted me died :("

✧He kept apologizing but you stopped him, telling Wally it was okay! It wasn't yours but his, and you didnt felt angry or anything.

✧"Aren't you mad at me?" "No, of course not! If anything, i'm more curious about how it got like that..."

✧You gave Wally an Aloe plant on purpose. He was a little uhhhh lost some times! head empty, so you choose a plant that would do just fine with little care.

✧But it seem he took too much care of the Aloe. It got like this thanks to overwatering.

"Its okay" you told him, holding his face on your hands. "You just worried too much for the little guy."

"Oh- haha, I ruined because I overdid it?"

"C'mon! You didn't ruined it. Lets go to the back, i'm pretty sure we can still save the aloe. This time i'm going to give you a better guide to take care of it."

His gaze softened, leaning his head to one of your hands. "That sounds nice..."

┴┬┴┬┴┬┴┬┴┬┴┬┴┬┴┬┴┬┴┬┴┬┴┬┴┬┴┬┴┬┴┬┴┬┴┬┴

can you tell how excited i got with this? can you tell?!?!?! it was so fun omg

PLEASE!! pleasepleaseplease send me more asks about ideas for you all self insert! tell me if you want a puppet or like a human costar like sesame street.

[rawmeknockout]

Can I request a breeding kink for Vos and a human s/o? I'm thirsty for that man 👁️👁️

Vos doesn’t like Tarn’s new pet. It blubbers and whines in its high-pitched mammalian sounds, crying like a dying mechanimal during every klik of the orbital cycle. It requires far too much attention, or else it’s likely to be crushed in one of its pathetic escape attempts. Too many times Vos has been tasked with crawling through the vents to pluck up the skittering thing. Every time, it bawls its little organic optics out and kicks at him. Were it not for Tarn’s fondness of the thing, Vos would have squished the little insect by now.

There’s truly no use having it around, and yet Tarn has affection for it all the same.

Occasionally, Vos, with his audials set to maximum, will hear its distant whining and it’s… Softer. Drawn out and mournful. Everyone knows why Tarn keeps it alive, but Vos has no taste for it. Laying with the thing, even if he were desperate enough, would be like laying with the Pet. Primal and repulsive; an act of a mech who is truly without dignity. He tries not to juxtapose this judgement with the idea of his leader.

And yet, the creature is soft in his servos. It trembles but Vos keeps a sure grip on it. Easily. He’s unused to being so large next to another. He’s known of humans for a while, but has never had the misfortune of meeting one before Tarn’s pet.

It… You squish and yield beneath his claws. The next time Vos has to pull you from the vents, he looks at his digits for a long time. A creature like you shouldn’t even survive. No outer shell to protect you, inner structure like the flimsiest steel, mesh that is not mesh. It bends and flexes and gives way readily when punctured. Vos can… imagine what Tarn sees in you. If he truly were to give you a grace you don’t deserve.

You are small, yes, but your body gives way. It bends and adapts readily. Part of what makes carrying so unviable is the rigidity of Cybertronian frames. A species meant to, built to, colonize and conquer. Frames made to withstand and last. Frames that don’t produce life as easily, because reproduction is not the first method by which they survive. But for organics, mating like petrorabbits is the only way to thrive. The idea was disgusting to him at first, novel in a way that looking at a scraplet’s innards might be, but the idea sits in his processor for too long. Festers like an open wound. Vos has always been seen as more primitive, treated as such by his peers. It’s not something that bothers him anymore, but it has certainly shaped him.

He can’t rationalize why he does it. Perhaps he is truly sick. His job makes that obvious to any other, but Vos knows he has limits. Assumed he did, at least. You are snug around his spike, warm and wet. Your insides writhe in a way that is unnatural to him, unlike the grind of cable and gear. You do not coil like metal. It’s not unpleasant in the slightest. Part of him is still repulsed by the slip of your body against his, the way your organic flesh presses oil and sweat to his armor, but Vos revels in the disgusting. He would gladly coat himself in another mech’s viscera, and pushing his spike into you feels like the same sort of satisfaction.

You would look endearing filled to the brim with sparklings, your body molded around what he had given you. His coding hard at work in a body that is designed to bend and morph. Just as your body yields, you make room to fit him. You bend your desires out of the way to curl into Vos’ arms, to wrap your small human legs around his hips and pull him close. Your animal sounds are light and lovely, no longer a grating keen for mercy or freedom. Tarn could never pull such sounds from your fleshling vocalizer, too large and too rough no matter how he tries. His frame made to bully through others with little regard. And yet, compared to you, Vos is the same. It pulls a raspy chuckle from his intake, a moan like rusty metal grinding.

Vos will make sure it takes. You are eager for his touch, your body more than able to carry, and he has all the time in the world to see it will.

[systlin]

The amount of effort I've seen people go to to avoid thinking of death is insane! And not big death, like family/friends dying, but the small deaths that surround us every day! The level of disconnect you need to ignore the animals and plants and bugs that are dying around you everyday is nuts!

Most people simply never have it pointed out to them. And never connect something like, say, their dad spreading pesticide on the lawn when they were kids with what that is actually DOING. It's something they've simply never ever had pointed out to them at all. There are people who go through life with their only interaction with nature being mowing the lawn once a week or so. They have legitimately never learned anything about how soil works, or the trillion lives in it, or the billion insects that play out the grand fight for survival in their backyards every day. They barely know it's there at all. Grass is just grass, right? Trees are just rocks with leaves that make oxygen somehow, right?

They might half sleep through a class on life cycles and stuff in school or whatever, but that's it. That's all the education they get. Lots of people don't seek out documentaries to watch. Lots of people lived their lives inside with televisions and thought going for a hike sounded hot and boring if they ever considered it at all.

Nothing wrong with that, really. But what it means is that a lot of people legitimately have gone through life not learning anything about how the natural world works and not connecting the idea of the patch of grass in their backyard or at the city park containing part of that. Their whole worlds are buildings and parking lots and under human control. Nature is a far away sort of vague concept, really.

Again I've worked with these people. In a city of 30K people in deep farm country where if you drive for 15 minutes in any direction you're in cow pasture or woods or cropland or actually underwater in the Mississippi and staring at a catfish the size of a car. The poor woman literally did not know that wild foxes lived in the city because she had never in her life been outside at night before. She didn't like going outside in the daytime either because 'there are bugs out there'.

There's a reason I will absolutely die on the hill of children should be able to see nature in some form. Even if it's just raising some marigolds in a little pot on the windowsill and going for a walk in a park to see neat bugs and a few birds.

[kit-williams]

Here, I have a few "hear me out" character options for you. Lets see if any are too unfuckable for you or you at least find it entertaining XD

Here me out level: Very mild Ahzek Ahriman: kind of a douche but also really likes civilian remembrancers. Loves to fuck with warp magic and is also a repeat offender cannibal. yummy

Here me out level: Mild Argel Tal: (The best Word Bearer) Not a bad man pre heresy, and in a vision Lorgar has turns into a demon bug man. kinda hot ngl

Here me out level: medium Asterion Moloc: Chapter master of the Minotars. Kind of like Tyberos but worse also more brutally evil and paranoid. Is fucking massive, scarred and full of cybernetics.

Here me out level: hardish Eidolon: An Emperors children marine, like Fulgrim but even more of a narcissistic asshole. Gets corrupted in the heresy and is so much of a dick Fulgrim himself actually kills him. 8/10 would be his pet pre-heresy because post heresy he is dead 💀

Here me out level: ??? Mothman Mortarion: I would let that massive stinky man have whatever he wanted

Ahzek: 100% would DID NOT KNOW HE WAS A CANNIBAL I just love tragic magic boys who tried his best but like dad everything went wrong.

Argel Tal: 1000% WOULD both as normal and demon bug/abomination thing listen that vertical mouth could do things to me but yeah sometimes you just crave insect man sexual horror

Asterion Moloc: 50% would... I don't know enough about him or the Minotaurs much beyond just utterly ravaging the Lamenters. But Granted I could probably think up some sort of personality for him sexy enough to turn that 50% to 100% just like I've done with Tyberos.

Mothman Mortarion: Would and in my drafts am working on something for him

His mask had been removed for this occasion, bits of his flesh coming off with it, but ever the resilient one Mortarion hardly felt it as Isolde looked up in horror. The chittering insect like mouth mixed with a human one swirled and mashed together as he chittered down at her. His silvery wings fully spread, flicking in the light to catch her eyes as he preened and felt an excitement. Mortarion was intimate with the cycle of death and rebirth that Nurgle governed over and fecundity was a step in that cycle Mortarion walked past. He was content on being a creature that had lost it's life mate and warbled its never returned mating song.

There was an insanity that danced in Mortarions eyes as two smaller arms gripped and pulled on her clothes. They were in his section of the garden... away from the Grandfather's gaze and while it pained Mortarion physically and immaterially he would introduce his wife to Grandfather later... after intimacy was restored and pent up feelings were taken care of. His clothing and armor melted away off of his body...

Eidolon: I don't know much about him cept that he did get killed and might be alive? Unless someone else in lore is also... EITHER WAY

Emperor's children are always a hard sell for me idk how you can be more narcissistic than Fulgrim so yeah I just don't know enough about him to figure out if I even COULD write something about him.

So TL;DR: Everyone is would just Asterion Molec is someone I'd have to probably build up like Tyberos to make him work and Eidolon I don;t know enough about & him being an Emperor's Children makes him have an uphill battle for me to try and sexualize

[rat-rambles]

Billford AU time doomed soulmates with a twist.

The rest is context / short fic thing.

“Hi Bill, please take a seat.” 

Bill politely went to the couch. 

“What’s up doc?”

“Cute, now do you have anything you'd like to talk about today?”

Bill scoffed,

“Yeah, how about how this is a complete waste of time!”

“It's not a waste, don't you want to get out of here?”

“Yeah as myself not as some insect or insignificant pest. Tell me doc, why would I have spent countless lifetimes getting myself to the 4th dimension only to go back willingly?”

“Technically we can’t be sure where you'd end up, your soul would travel to where it feels it's needed.” 

“And how does that end in a mayfly?”

“Well normally such small lives are stepping stones on a healing journey; you'd make it back to sentient life in time. You know I'm not supposed to share all this with patients but,... oh that's interesting.” 

The doc looked surprised at their notes.

“what? What is it if you tell me I'm gonna be a Dorito I'll-!” 

“ I didn't know you had a soul mate.”

That stopped Bill in his tracks.  

“What.. what do you mean I have a soulmate .. soulmates aren't real?”

“Well not everyone has them and they don't meet in every lifetime but in the primordial nebulas your soul had bonded with another. It's like 2 atoms drawn together even if across the universe. You would have been together by now for sure if you had lived our your expected life span.”

“What do you mean been together? Who is it?” 

“They now go by, oh yes, Stanford Pines, yes you've mentioned him.” 

“Stanford can NOT be my soulmate, you're just trying to pry some feelings out of me with these, these dirty tricks! You think you can manipulate me really?”

“No tricks, look, see there's your soul, his is the blue one.”

Doc handed Bill a photo of them as 2 glowing orbs hovering in the ether. Bill held the photo and he felt his very soul thumb at the photo in recognition. There was no denying the truth of course, only there was.

“This is bull! He's met me, he hates me! It only works out with us if I break out of here and finish what I started!”

“Now I'm not supposed to share about alternate timelines with patients but I think this might actually help you.” 

They pulled out a clip board. 

“I found this one looking for something to help you.” 

Bill took the clipboard. His eye landed on the image of a young adult human with long blonde hair and a big smile. 

“What is this”

“You, well your soul, if it had gone through it's cycles of reincarnation as intended.” 

Bill read the paper. It talked about a boy named Bill. An odd dreamer born in Wyoming but moved to New Jersey. This Bill met Ford before college and they went to the same one. He was never as smart as Ford but Fordsy called him the visionary. It read that together they worked on inventions to see the stars and worlds beyond.

“You want me to believe this is me?”

“If you never became immortal, yes.” 

“Well then it's not me. I would have never survived if I didn't! I mean you don't understand what it was like you can't have.”

“Lots of people have bad childhoods Bill” 

“LOTS of people are roaches who can't do anything to fix their reality! I can, I did, and this fake Bill didn't!” 

“Fake Bill is happy”

“Oh, is fake Bill happy? This photo is what, in the 80’s? Please. I've seen the way Ford treated his brother and Fiddleford, Ford isn't the kind to just settle down and be happy.” 

“Well he actually has a great number of happy endings.” 

“And let me guess they all don't involve me? At least like this, because I HAVE to change”

“You DO have to change Bill but that's not a bad thing, change is beautiful, change is life!” 

“No, your change is death, my change will be life.” 

Doc sighed. 

“Well that's all the time we have for today.”

Bill clutched the clipboard uncontrollably. 

“You can keep that but don't tell the others.” 

Back in Bill's room he flipped through the pages again and again. He had nothing else to do but memorize the details of his other life. He wondered if the reason they weren't allowed to tell patients these things was because it's torture. Knowing that you could have had a better life but didn't. He looked for reasons to dismiss it, to think it's a pitiful stupid existence to think that they were simply lesser beings on a lower plane. 

[arteastica]

early in the morning, especially when it rains, and a little before noon. (24)

erwin x fem!reader

chapters: (1) | (2) | (3) | (4) | (5) | (6) | (7) | (8) | (9) | (10) | (11) | (12) | (13) | (14) | (15) | (16) | (17) | (18) | (19) | (20) | (21) | (22) | (23) | (25) | (26) | (27)

summary: I basically took Isayama’s work, forced it into a romance story, and made Erwin the love interest. Commander meets cadet and they fall in love (not instantly though)

notes: very berry canonverse (but some events were modified to fit my narrative), wasn’t intended to be this long, but it all is in the details right?

content warnings: smut where it fits (or where I make it fit. Also, reader is NOT underage, so likewise, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, please.) slow burn (I really mean it. I’m not olympic diving into any form of smut for the first chapters.) no angst. I dislike angst. I would never. I could never. (Although angst can be somewhat subjective so take it with a grain of salt?)

wc: 4.4k

As it turned out, taking the post-winter inventory was just as tedious as the winter stockpiling itself, if not a little worse. Your entire arm, from the shoulder down to the pinkie, hurt from holding the heavy logbook; your eyes, from counting every dusty bolt of unused cloth; your back, from bending over to pick up all those fat boxes of untouched grain; and your hand, from writing down all those confusing numbers that had been relentlessly thrown at you all afternoon.

Yes, spending all day inside the storage shed was taxing enough, but you weren’t sure it was worse than what awaited you in your office: The daunting, dragging, and without doubt, ridiculously time-consuming task of condensing all those jumbled up numbers into a detailed log, one that was extensive and comprehensive without turning incomprehensible, so that it could actually be of some use to any ill-starred soldier who found themselves in such dreadful time of the year, when the consultation of dusty old records became inevitable. But hey, the dusty old records left by your predecessors had definitely saved you a frustrated cry or two, so it was only fair you kept the chain going. It was the fair, decent thing to do. Especially when life was so generous to you.

Generous like the orange beams of light seeping through the wood cracks, shining unsparingly on the old cabin walls, as the sun presented its final act of the day. Generous like the ample chorus of cicadas, or perhaps katydids… insects had never been your area of expertise really, performing for free outside the window, announcing that dinner was most likely being served at the castle right now. And you didn’t need to be there to know that the banquet would be generous too, as plentiful and bountiful as the pain all those poor soldiers who spent their day with you at the shed must be enduring at the moment, wincing in pain as they sat down in front of warm meat pies and creamy onion soups. And again, you didn’t need to be there to know that the first comment of the conversation would be something about their feet and how bad they hurt and throbbed inside their boots.

Just like yours did right now.

Yours hurt and throbbed too, but you couldn’t complain.

No, you didn’t feel like doing so. Not even when everyone had already left for the castle and you were still in the shed, in the middle of the woods. Not even when, according to the setting sun and the sudden temperature drop, your shift was supposed to be over by now.

No, you couldn’t complain. Not at all. Definitely not. Especially not when he would kiss you like that, softly and unhurriedly, like the early spring breeze playfully disheveling the tree crowns outside. Not when he would pull away slowly, a smile decorating his glossy lips, admiring you like you belonged in one of those fancy museums your father liked to pretend he visited often. And then, when he seemed to be done memorizing your features, he would pull you in for another kiss, only for the cycle to start all over again. And no matter how many times it had repeated that afternoon, the flutter of butterflies in your stomach was very much ever-present. Without fail, they would show up just as you were about to close your eyes, exactly when his lips were only a hair’s breadth apart from yours. That’s when the butterflies would flutter the most, tickling your insides, and making you giggle.

Making you giggle despite the uncomfortable pile of hay you were sitting on, and the way it was poking your skin through the fabric of your jeans; despite the chilly wind furtively slipping through the cracks of the wood and the way it was making your skin bumpy.

Or maybe it was him the one responsible for that. Maybe it was him, and not the cold, the one responsible for making your hairs stand on end. Yes, maybe it was him and the comfortable hand he kept on the small of your back, gently holding you as yours held his face. Or maybe it was the pleasant way in which the warm sunlight would shine in through the window behind you, artistically gilding the prominent bridge of his nose, masterfully tracing the sharp contour of his jaw, delicately sprinkling the mesmerizing blue of his eyes with gold, making them look like the forest stream from your cabin fantasy, happily glimmering under the sun.

Is this how it was going to be in there, in your little cabin? Kissing in the kitchen, after he comes back from work. His lips on yours the moment he walks in, effectively cutting the words ‘welcome back’ short, promptly trapping them between your lips and his. A reassuring arm wrapped around your waist, telling you how much he missed you. And your hands, cupping his face, telling him how much you did. A wide smile present on your lips the whole time he kisses you, tempted to call it a day already and retreat to the room you share, where you could cuddle under soft, warm covers for the night, but deciding not to when you remember about the pie in the oven. The pie in the oven, you better go check on it. Old-fashioned apples for dinner, because you know how much of a sweet tooth he has, and even though he never asks for it, you always bake something to surprise him with at the end of every meal. Sometimes sugar cream, sometimes orchard pear, sometimes layered pumpkin when you have some extra time, or simple rice pudding when there is none. But always something sweet, sweet like him.

Sweet like the gentle way his lips were cherishing yours back at the dusty storage shed. Softly, unhurriedly, naively, like you had all the time in the world. As if there were no flesh eating giants lurking behind a wall not too many miles away. As if he wasn’t the Commander of the Survey Corps. As if he was just your lover. Simply your beloved and nothing more, the owner of those soft lips now making wet pops against yours, those velvety lips now softly trapping your bottom lip between them, pulling away deliciously slowly, just to start all over again.

Yes, when he was standing between your legs like that, warm chest rising and falling against yours, hand gently holding you close to him, and yours lovingly caressing the bristly skin of his cheek as if it was the softest thing you’d ever get to touch, he became less of a military leader and more like your lover.

“We should get going before it gets too dark.” You said somewhere in between the sugar pecks he was lavishly indulging you with.

“I could kiss you the whole day.” He said, lips puffy and a little red from dancing with yours.

And I could kiss you my whole life. You thought as you stared into his eyes, allowing yourself to travel back to your fantasy cabin for a moment, running a finger across his swollen bottom lip, moist and coated with your saliva. “Well, you can keep kissing me in the office. I happen to have all night as well as a very nice boss who, I’m sure, will understand if I don’t finish this report today.” You smiled cheekily, tapping the papers you had placed in the pile of hay next to you.

“Is that so?” He smiled back, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “Is he good to you?”

“Very good.” You smirked, emphasizing that last word with a sultry whisper. “He buys me my favorite treats, takes me to fancy parties and then walks me home, doesn’t like it when I work extra hours, puts more wood on the fire as soon as he notices I’m getting cold; oh! and during expeditions, he lets me hug him if I’m scared.” You reminisced fondly of that day, wondering if sometimes he too found himself thinking about the first time you were in each other’s arms, in the Forest of Giant Trees. “He treats me like I’m his princess. Especially when I lie bare on his bed and he makes love to me.”

He stared at you in silence, his attention shifting between your eyes and your lips, and his smile mirroring yours. His demeanor reminded you of the strategic leader he would become at the meeting room, always unpredictable, always ahead of everyone and everything, an experienced chess player meticulously evaluating what his next big move should be. And for a moment, you thought it would involve his lips colliding with yours again, devouring you, your face, your body, as well as your clothes in the process. Making you his right there in the middle of the storage shed, on top of all that prickly hay, like in one of those steamy novels your mother would pretend she didn’t keep under the bedroom mattress. But no, he was too much of a gentleman to do so when you were still in the middle of a conversation.

“Well, maybe because you are.” He finally said, his hand traveling back to your waist and, in a sudden and rather possessive manner, bringing your body closer to his, causing an excited whimper to escape your lips. “His princess.”

You couldn’t help but giggle, the words tickling your ears and making you feel as giddy as you remembered your teenage years to be. And like so, you let yourself melt into his embrace, head resting on his chest, and his lullaby heartbeat tempting you to tell him.

About the cabin in the woods.

Who knows? Maybe he knew of a vacant one, where you could move together. Maybe he had also been thinking about it lately, about moving somewhere quiet and remote. Somewhere where the title of ‘13th Commander of the Survey Corps’ didn’t mean anything. Somewhere where he could wake up after eight on rainy Sundays, grab that old history book, or that blue one with the golden title he was always re-reading, a warm cup of something, and lose himself until lunchtime. Somewhere where he could settle down. With you. The white ceremony in the garden, and maybe later, not too long after that, the very same garden becoming the playground where blonde-haired, blue-eyed toddl-

“Would you be interested in visiting the capital next weekend?” He asked, the sudden question pulling you back to the present moment, and making you sit straight so you could come eye to eye with him. He didn’t have any scheduled meetings in Mitras until the end of next month. “My good friend Hansel will be celebrating his Golden Birthday and he asked me to join.”

You knew he wasn’t particularly keen on those types of gatherings, not only that but, with so much on his plate, he didn’t have the disposition nor the freedom to attend that sort of event. So you figured Lord Koch must be a truly remarkable friend for him to consider attending.

“When he came to deliver the horses last week, he also extended his invitation. Admittedly, I did find it odd at first, that he came all the way down here instead of sending his nephews or assistants like he always does.” He explained, his warm fingertips absentmindedly drawing patterns on the small of your back.

Having grown up listening to your father’s stories about Lord Koch, and never really meeting him formally until recently, you had formed your very own ideas about the man. He seemed to be one of those people who would gladly sell their soul if it meant sorcery could multiply them. One of those folks who wished they could, and since they had money… always could, be a part of everything, everywhere, at the same time, and multiple times. Cutting the ribbon at the latest museum inauguration in the morning, accepting the community leader award at his local temple before noon, participating in both a regional chess tournament and a charity auction by four in the afternoon, feeding the poor in the underground cities at six, attending his grandkid’s academy play before speaking at the annual gala for his family foundation, and then finally getting to take his wife on that lavish trip they planned for commemorating their over-thirty years of marriage. Yes, it made sense he never came down here.

“I was told the bearer of the invitation could bring a companion.” His husky, velvety voice gently brought you back to the shed. Once again, you had gotten lost in your own head. It was particularly easy to do so these days.

“Is that so?” You teased, the butterflies in your stomach already flapping their colorful wings, as your heartbeat began to mirror those of a hummingbird. But he would never be able to tell, if the only thing he had to go by was the manual dexterity your fingers displayed as they straightened up the collar of his shirt. “Are you going to invite Captain Levi? I’m sure everyone at the reception would be delighted to meet Humanity’s Strongest.”

“They most certainly would, but Levi would be less than thrilled.” He smiled innocently, clearly playing along with you. “Not to mention the unfortunate remark I found at the bottom of the invitation, which only acts as yet another deterrent to Levi’s participation: ‘feasting and dancing to follow, the right company is advised.’” He looked you in the eyes, a serious expression suddenly taking over his previously soft, amused features. “I’m afraid Levi doesn’t enjoy dancing.”

You let out a hearty laugh that your mother would have undoubtedly found inappropriate, tickled by both the words as well as the disappointed tone he had chosen for delivering them. And he just looked at you the whole time, letting your laughter fill the room, allowing your joy to warm up the frigid evening air. A sweet smile on his lips as you struggled to regain your composure; once again making you feel like the most absorbing of art works, and making it even harder to forget about your forest fantasy.

“That’s why I’m asking my princess.” He said a little later when your laughter faded down. “For the pleasure of her company.”

You weren’t sure he could hear the champagne popping, the frenzied flutter of the butterflies, or the fireworks show he had started inside you; but you knew, because of the way your ears started burning, that he could definitely see the flustered pinks that had taken over your face, as well as the beaming smile you were trying to hide. Yes, you had made love a couple times already, his lips had spent entire nights on yours, his fingers had explored and conquered places no one else’s had before, he had met you at times of the night where friends, and let alone bosses, never do. But this… this was the first time he had straight up asked you to go somewhere together. Not only that, but in the place that husbands usually reserve for their wives. So all things considered, you couldn’t blame your lungs for their sudden inability to hold air, nor your imagination for all the crazy detours it started to take.

“What does she say?” He asked softly, a small, irresistible smile on his equally tantalizing lips as he pointlessly re-tucked an already perfectly tucked strand of hair behind your ear.

“Hmm.” You raised a finger to your chin and pursed your lips, pretending to think. As if there was something to even think about in the first place.

You weren’t too keen on that type of social gathering yourself, or any type for that matter, but you had endured your fair share of frivolous socializing and marble ballroom occasions during your teenage years, for no reason other than your mother telling you to attend. So, why wouldn’t you do it one more time? This time for him, and for the rare opportunity to see him gift-wrapped in something other than his uniform, for the chance to feast on the sinful way the fabric would most definitely cling to his firm biceps, his rock-solid chest, that delicious ass and the matching pair of perfectly designed thighs that came with it. And when your mind began to explore the possibility of seeing his hair slicked back again, a pulsating warmth started radiating from between your legs

“I think you will encounter no difficulties at the party, Mr. Commander.” You said, your eyes watching your fingers as they fiddled with the emerald oval in his shirt. “Bet there will be lots of fair ladies eagerly waiting for you to extend your hand and lead them into the dance floor.” Your lips curved slightly, enjoying the feeling of his hard muscles under your hands as you glided them down his broad chest. “I don’t know. Maybe even some old lover, trying to make up for lost time.”

“I don’t consider any of those to be likely scenarios.”

“Really? No past lovers wishing to pick up the threads? I don’t believe that.” You smiled, feeling his eyes on you, but choosing to keep yours on the patterns your fingertips were now drawing on his chest. “Something tells me you were quite the charmer when you were a cadet.” You said, finally looking up to meet his eyes before comfortably wrapping your arms around his neck. “Tell me, did you break a lot of hearts back in training camp?”

“Quite the opposite actually.” He replied, something about his demeanor, probably the contrived innocence you found in his eyes, making you question the veracity of his answer.

“So, you’re telling me that all those skills are the result of sheer talent, and that assiduous practice wasn’t a factor at all?” You asked, unable to believe that all the skill he displayed in bed, all the delicious things he did to you, and all the delightful ways he made your body feel, all that came from natural talent alone.

“It’s a long story.” He answered, his hand going back to the spot he liked, at the small of your back.

“I have time.” You said, despite the logbook and the fat pile of papers beside you suggesting the complete opposite. “You can tell me about it now, or…” Your smile mirrored the one that suddenly took over his features, telling you that he already knew what your words would be. “You can tell me next weekend, when you walk me home.”

His eyes traveled back and forth between yours and your lips, reminding you of both your late-night chocolate cravings and a wolf stalking an innocent prey. And then, reluctantly letting your arms drop from their comfortable position around his neck, you added:

“Oh, my bad. How pretentious of me to assume without asking first. Would you please be so kind as to walk me home this time too, Commander Smith?” You asked, already knowing the answer, but pretending to wait for it, as your fingers fiddled with the strings of his bolo tie.

“Even if you lived on the other side of town.” He replied, his rich, irresistible voice making you think of crackling campfires under vast, starry skies.

“Really? I heard Lord Koch’s Mitras estate is in the very outskirts of town.” You teased, playfulness making your lips curve into a mischievous grin.

“I’d walk you home even if it was in Wall Maria itself.”

“Wow, that’s very far to go for someone, Mr. Commander. Especially when that someone is just your assistant.”

He shook his head lightly before replying. “I’d think of it as another felicitous opportunity to spend time with her, which would be heaven-sent indeed, considering I just miss her all the time.” He confessed, bringing your body closer to his, and making the tips of your noses touch. “Even now.”

And you had to fight the overpowering urge to kiss those lips, the urge to behave in very unladylike manners and ask him, beg him, to do equally indecorous things to you with those beautiful, perfectly round, sinfully soft lips that were smiling so prettily at you right now.

“Is that so?” You smirked, wrapping your legs around his waist and trapping him between your thighs. “There, now you can’t escape her.”

“Wasn’t trying to.” He whispered, his voice so deep and so smoky it made you think of the fireplace back at the castle, not the one in your office however, but the one in his room. In front of his warm, soft, tempting bed. As familiar and homelike as the one in your very own room back in Mitras.

And you stole a peck from his smiling lips, before happily returning your arms to their favorite position around his neck, where your fingers started playing with the short hairs on his nape.

You weren’t the biggest admirer of Leon’s uncle. Not that he had done anything bad to you. In fact, you had barely interacted with the man. Admittedly, you did remember cursing his name on an occasion or two, but that had been so long ago. So long you had almost entirely forgotten about it.

You started to reminisce, discovering your own reflection in the beautiful sapphires now staring back at you.

During your academy days, perhaps? When you were still living back home, and your father used to come back late every Thursday. Because Thursdays were his anticipated ‘chess nights’ with Lord Koch, which you had always suspected to be just a façade for their conspiracy theory club. You see, there was only one thing, other than your mother’s green tomato pie, that would make your father’s eyes sparkle the way they did on Thursday nights, and that was royal conspiracy theories.

He believed King Fritz was just an impostor, a very apathetic an alcoholic one, a puppet king placed on the throne by the council for some questionable reason, for the sake of some secret agenda they were trying to hide from the common folks. And that very reason, and not chess, was what his little club sat down to discuss every Thursday. There was no way your father would enjoy a chess club, because if there were two things everyone knew about him was that, one, he hated losing, and two, he never won at chess.

But that’s besides the point. You remember growing to dislike Lord Koch over the years because he used to keep your father for far too long at those so-called ‘chess meetings’, which usually translated in your stomach growling for hours until he finally decided to come home, because your mother always insisted that ‘eating together as a family’ was important, and that the loss of such tradition was slowly leading to the demise of society. But those days were long gone and forgotten, and you liked to think you weren’t good at keeping score or holding grudges against random people.

So no, it definitely wasn’t that. The disfavor you, inadvertently, still regarded Lord Koch with was more irrational than anything else, similar to when you would find a classmate, either from academy or training camp, insufferably annoying but could never give a valid reason why. Maybe it was because Lord Koch always wanted to be a part of everything. Maybe it was because everyone seemed to be obsessed with him and you didn’t understand why. Or maybe it was because he had happened to show up then, when the Commander and you were going through difficult times. Yes, maybe it was that. Maybe it was your brain unknowingly associating him with the bad memories from that day: the Commander coming back after spending the whole day riding out in the field with him, asking you if there was something between you and Leon. Why would he even-

“What is it?” He suddenly asked, bringing you back to the dark shed, making you realize that night had fallen over you, and that the moonlight sparkled way more prettily on his eyes than it ever did on the surface of the water. “You’re so quiet.”

“Nothing.” You replied, the corners of your lips instantly lifting at the sound of his voice. “I was just thinking about how much my father sucks at chess, about the King’s seemingly worsening alcohol problems, about how nicely the moonlight complements your features, and about my dresses and which one would be the easiest for you to take off me.”

“Wow.” He blinked a couple times as if trying to understand how were all those things related to each other. “That’s- that’s a very interesting, very peculiar association of ideas. Each one more thought-provoking than the other. Especially the last one.”

You rolled your eyes and smiled.

“Erwin.”

“Mhm?”

You weren’t sure if this was the moment to talk about it, but you found the loving way his eyes were studying your features, as well as the soothing thumb he was running across your cheek rather encouraging. So, you decided to go ahead.

“Did-” You took a deep breath. “Did Lord Koch tell you something back then?”

He didn’t respond and you took his silence as an indication that you could ask more.

“Did he mention anything that made you think there was something between his neph-”

“That doesn’t matter.” He hushed you just like he had back then, when you had tried to ask about the same thing. “All that matters to me is what we have.” He took your hand and brought it to his lips. “Right now.” His eyes were crystal clear, and what you saw in them was exactly what he was telling you. “Whatever happened yesterday, whatever happens tomorrow…all that matters to me is that we had today.” He kissed your knuckles, letting the pleasant warmth of his lips linger on your skin, closing his eyes tightly as if trying to carve the moment into his memory. “And I will always remember it.”

“Me too.” You said, nostalgia suddenly infusing the air of the cabin, creeping into your heart and burdening it with unexplainable melancholy.

I love you.

You confessed in your head as your fingers played with the soft, golden strands on the back of his.

Perhaps all that matters is that I love you. That I love you even if you didn’t say it yesterday and even if you don’t say it tomorrow.

You said in your thoughts as you pulled him closer.

Even if I never get to hear it back from these very lips.

You told him without words, as your lips welcomed his.

Even if they never return these words.

You surrendered without a fight as his tongue claimed what was rightfully his.

I love you just the same, Commander.

You promised him in silence, tasting in his kiss both the bitterness of the lemon and the sweetness of the honey you never forgot to add to his warm cups in the morning.

And I will always do.

Including busy mornings like today's, when it remained forgotten on his desk, still silently waiting for him in the middle of the cold, dark office.

-

next chapter

taglist: @mysticalnightbeliever @aliasrising @elnyrae @mchlist @apts2000 @angelaevangelion @depitaangeline @ynackerman9499 @afatalheat @pumpkin-toffee @velouria17 @gassytritis @goddessinsweats @nube55 @jeanboyjean @crazychaoticizzy @braunsbabe @erwinawesomeness @lucifers-nipple-piercing @karmabyfernando @thicc101q @shittyprofilebutfuckit @dilfenthusiast-union

[randomnumbers751650]

So, I finished watching Ideon a few days ago and one thing that I thought to be really unique is how Ideon is a theodicy or has elements of a theodicy. Just to let you know, a theodicy is a question on the problem of evil: if God can and wants to prevent evil, and if God is good, then why does evil exist? It should be noted that a theodicy doesn’t necessarily require that God exists or not (I know actual economists and political scientists who unironically call their disciplines theodicies), because questions on the origin of evil are things that are with humanity since immemorial times. Also spoilers for a 40 year old show.

In Ideon, as they learn more and more about the power of the Ide, the Giant reveals itself more and more of a god. In fact, it is called a god in mid-season episodes, but they stop that after a while, probably the writers thinking it might be too much on the nose. But still, the characters are constantly debating why Ide allows that, if Ide is testing them, if Ide is good or evil, since it is orchestrating the meteor falls. A curious thing is that we have Ide’s perspective just once, with Bes’s dream – it wants to survive – and the rest of the discussions is what humans believe to Ide’s will to be, like as if they were some sort of amateur theologians.

In the end, they conclude Ide is trying to kill them because it deemed them unworthy of salvation due to their inability of stopping the cycle of war, but, again, this is their interpretation. And, in the end, Ideon is finally destroyed…but it was already established it had infinite energy, so it is kinda certain that it just allowed itself to be defeated.

Ideon is a story of how war is hell, using a super robot in a real robot story. It portrays conflict escalation, hypocrisy of ideals of honor in an environment that gives power to petty people, capable of selling their comrades for a promotion, or committing war crimes without any tactical advantage – it’s kinda obvious the Buff Clan is based on Imperial Japan, while humans seem to be inspired from Star Trek’s idea of federation – and, above all, the process of dehumanization: it starts with a sense of technological pride, impulse by miscommunication, which constantly evolves into incapacity of recognizing the other as anything but insects, and overall mutual hatred. It ended with parents disowning their child, a father trying to kill his daughter for a frivolous reason such as “blood purity” and what essentially was an attempt to make a human sacrifice to Ide (with Sheryl). No wonder, Ide decides that enough is enough, its patience wouldn’t last forever. The series goes out of its way to show that humans and buffs brought that to themselves.

Personally, I don’t think Ide is evil. I feel it genuinely wanted for humans and buffs to live in peace. The way it cares for children isn’t just because it’s an amalgamation of children from the previous civilizations, but because it genuinely likes them and see them as symbols of hope (or else it wouldn’t protect and support the adults as well) or innocence (when it protected the giant worm children). I could tell when Sheryl attempted to sacrifice Lou to make Ide work, it was beyond pissed off, to the point of destroying their homeworlds and colonies. This is why I don’t buy Ide was setting up a trap to kill both species, it could’ve done any time. It still preserved the ones in space, using the last of hope that they could solve their differences, but its hope drained with every advance, so if it wanted to destroy them, it wanted to make clear that if it was destroying them, it wanted to make them understand why before doing it.

In spite of that, Ide still loved life, including the lives of humans and buffs until the end. When all of them die in the final moments of the movie, they all reunite and, upon seeing the greatness of the universe, they can see how petty and a waste of time their squabbles and wars were. So, Ide had Messiah to guide them to a new planet, to restart the cycle again, hoping this time they would learn the lesson. In spite of Tomino showing a bleak pessimism throughout the series, I feel the end is optimistic.

[iamfuckingsorry]

Sorry guys, another DE rant incoming. This one's not even on any specific topic, just some feelings about the game that I need to get out.

So, the game absolutely fucking killed me. I intentionally didn't play the entire thing at once to give myself time to process and it still fucking killed me. And by killed I mean I had to take crying breaks at work hiding in the bathroom. Like literally unable to go through a day at work without coming this close to a breakdown. And there's other compounding factors for that, sure, but still.

And it's like... It's a chilling social commentary with too many layers for its own good. The main character is a walking bundle of current and past issues mixed with the consequences of extremely messed-up past actions. The main support character has the best of intentions but is heavily flawed himself. Everyone else in the story is fucked up, really every single fucking thing is fucked up, yet the game itself keeps giving you these little snippets of hope. All the side quests where you can make a difference to someone. Deep conversations. Kim smiling. Realizing the people you originally thought were massive assholes were just hurting. The goddamn stick insect.

You are a violent and irrepressible miracle.

Something beautiful is going to happen.

In the dark times, should the stars also go out?

Streets and sodium lights, the sky, the world. You're still alive.

You still have some years. You still have some hope.

The only way to load the dice is to keep on fighting.

Kim being so hopelessly in love with Revachol even though he's been treated like shit by the city's inhabitants.

Harry being so hopelessly in love with Revachol, too, even though he can't even remember her.

The world is shit, but there's still all these little things that make it worth living.

And I'd... really love for that to be my take away. I would really, really fucking love that. But somehow, I can't.

Because no matter how much good you do preventing an absolute bloodbath in Martinaise, changes are coming, and they aren't good changes. The wheels are already in motion and they cannot be stopped, no matter how vigilant Harry is, no matter how much Revachol loves him.

22 years after Harry wakes up, Revachol's getting nuked to pieces.

Some 5 years after that, the entire world as we know it is getting swallowed by the pale.

Kim Kitsuragi will not live to see 70.

(Honestly, this is the line that kills me the most. He deserves to grow old, to look at his life and be happy with what he's done with it, at peace and fully accepted by everyone including himself for the first time in his life. And instead he's getting killed in a pointless conflict that will usher in the end of the world, or if he won't get killed then, he's getting nuked to death. Kim Kitsuragi will not live to see 70.)

Anyway. I know that that's part of the point. Horrible things are inevitable but that doesn't mean life isn't worth living and good things aren't worth fighting for. You can still fight the inevitable darkness while you're here, you should still fight the inevitable darkness while you're here, you need to fight the inevitable darkness while you're still here because if you don't, then what are you living for? And if not you, then who? If you lose your last sliver of hope, then you lose everything. Yes, life is terrible and terrifying, but life is also so, so, so beautiful.

And even when life is shit, it's all just part of a cycle. Sometimes bad things need to happen in order for the good ones to be able to come back again. One day I'll return to your side. After death, life again. After the pale, the world again. The good connected to the bad, intertwined so tightly they cannot be separated in any meaningful way.

And I think I'm starting to get there, I really do. After the pale, the world again. Even in the darkest of times there is always hope of a brighter future. After the pale, the world again. After death, life again. Un jour je serai de retour près de toi. The only way to load the dice is to keep on fighting. The stars will never go out, not even in the darkest of times.

But instead I just... I close my eyes and I think of Revachol herself begging Harry to save her, and I think of her burning, and I think of Kim not living to see 70.

And I want to cry.

[thependragonarchives]

Ronald Knox -- Personal HCs

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ Specific things I give to Ronnie-Boy in my canon ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

✧ In life, Ronald was the eldest son of six kids, and grew up rather poor. His mother, Tweedie, tried to earn extra funds by having Ron deliver meat pies and bread to the working class.

✧ Ronald committed suicide when he was 22, by jumping from the roof of a factory. He got into legal trouble from gambling, and decided that taking his life would be much, much better than: Getting murdered, going to jail, or disappointing his mother. It was rash- He didn't think it through at ALL, and ended up regretting it right before he hit the ground. Adrenaline is a hell of a drug.

✧ Popular tumblr headcanon, but I'm a FULL supporter of the Knoxcliffe sibling agenda. Ron was Grell's first mentee!! He got to be the younger sibling for once, instead of the firstborn son that has to do everything to protect his family, no more 'man of the house'. Nah, he got trained by the biggest baddie around, and decided 'Man, this is nice, I'm going to annoy the shit out of her.'

✧ Graduated the Academy with decent grades, passed the Final Assessment with flying colors, and was So, So, So excited to finally be able to get his own, custom glasses. Ended up shaking Grell so much from excitement he fainted, and she had to drag him to Medical.

✧ While work is the main focus of his second chance at life, the reason he's so cheerful/prideful/arrogant (depending on who you ask) is because he finally gets to Live Life. No more worrying about if there's enough food on the table, no more worrying about helping to pay rent, no more avoiding simple things like going out, or avoiding buying nice things for himself!

✧ I think the reason he's a playboy is because he wants to experience Everything relationships have to offer before settling down. If he settles down. Ronald doesn't believe he'll settle down anytime soon, though. Give or take 300 years (or retirement!! whatever comes first--). Or, The One, but true love at first sight is ridiculous to him.

✧ His arrogance and pride are his biggest weaknesses. It was arrogance that got him into gambling debt, it was arrogance that got his ass kicked on the Campania, it was arrogance that got his ass kicked by a CHILD. He is talk shit while getting hit. Ronald doesn't know when to SHUT HIS MOUTH. Losing a fight, bloodied and beaten, but still managing a witty one-liner and a wink.

✧ Since reapers, in my canon, are at least 80 years to a century ahead technology wise- Ronald was immediately fascinated on what was possible. On how much more efficient things could be. This ended up with Ronald tinkering with mechanics a lot!! In my modern AUs, he's all 'high trends' and pop culture until you look at Bessie. A beat up, red(?) truck he doesn't want to scrap, so he constantly tinkers with it.

✧ The mower was his pick, solely because it's extremely efficient for collecting Cinematic Records. The blades spin fast enough to cycle through multiple at once, and since observing the records are just protocol at this point, he figured it'd be the best for avoiding OT. Oh, and he doesn't have to walk. The lawnmower was made to carry him. He cares for it 'Like his only child'- William and Grell tease him whenever it gets jammed.

✧ There's a fear of insects/arachnids somewhere. That's a secret surprise for later, though.

✧ Ronald is neurodivergent, we all accept this /j. BUT, in a more serious note, I think one of his specific tics is sharing food/lunches, solely because it's a 'safe' way of sharing affection with those he cares about. Grell makes sure to keep extra room on her tray for when Ron passes half a sandwich or dessert to her. On a rare occasion, and he will NEVER admit this, William let Ronald share a grapefruit during lunch. This was a big sign of trust for their friendship, since William is extremely specific about his lunches and can't let anyone touch them, and Ronald didn't know how exactly to show his feelings.

[underscar]

ONE MOMENT IN TIME

Pairing: Angel Devil/Female Reader

Summary: Winds fierce enough to burn a dragon in a pinch blasted the skies, the land, the ocean, and the mighty mountains. Dreamily the sky twinkled and winked, and had absorbed your lost, confused gaze. Your first memory in this life was this mountain, a mountain full of plant life and animal life all around you. How did you find yourself here? You constantly wondered. As you silently watched creatures, both plants and animals, survive and then die, time blurred. There was something fascinating about the cycle of life. Until one day, a distance away, you spotted a coastal village. You were concerned about what might happen if you were to wander away from the mountain that has been your home. Till a lost angel appeared.

CHAINSAW MAN MASTERLIST | TAGLIST

A/N: it's been awhile since i posted on here, been busy with exams and work. i just haven’t had time to finish things.

I started this oneshot almost half a year ago on ao3 and have finally finished it. i wrote it in a vauge way and realized this after a finishing it. hopefully you can still enjoy it.

WORD COUNT // 4991 words

WARNINGS: Implied Death, Angst, CSM Spoliers (?)

CSM TAGLIST: N/A

As fierce as a dragon in a pinch, the winds of the sky and land consecrated the atmosphere and ground, braiding itself between the ocean waves and mountain peaks. Dreamingly, the sky twinkled and winked at you absentmindedly. In turn, absorbing your lost and disoriented gaze. You found yourself in a place familiar but unknown. In a world old but renewed. Each intrinsic act of nature caused your tender and youthful skin to tremble.

A continuous hum of the breeze, it whips past you, making your naked skin frigid.

Standing bare and naked in a field of lush nature, you marveled at the enchanting view of the scene from atop the garden-coated cliff. The sight was simple and clean. You were not prone to humiliation, and your naked form demonstrated that. Shame was something you had yet experienced or know. This serene mountain and its tranquil sights were the very first remembrances you underwent in this lifetime. A mountain brimming with sustaining vitality and illustrative animal life.

The only thing you could do was gape in awe. Watching as the animal, which was equipped with teeth, wings, and more, devoured the plants and creatures. The sights appeared to be familiar to you. Being able to observe the plants almost passively allowing themselves to be eaten, together with the helpless prey that sought safety from the predators, was strange. They were so helpless in the face of predators.

You noticed these things.

As the days turned into weeks and those into months, you were on your hurried expedition with your lonesome. The phantom mountain was surrounded by eerie insects that were unfamiliar to your vivid mind, and they attached themselves to you. Each time it did so, it bit you, showing you through its actions how you had no place in the outside world. That your kind was neither desired nor wanted. Your manifestation was not asked for, but rather despised, as you are born from the dread of time.

How did you find yourself here, you wondered.

Time was a blur as you silently observed creatures, plants, and animals alike, all surviving then dying. Just to watch the cycle repeat, you bore witness. After living this cycle for who knows how long, a twitch of bravery swept over you, and you ventured further afield from your comfort zone. With a blanket of moss wrapped around your dirt-covered body, you explored the new arena.

On this venture of bravery and wonder, you encounter new plants and new animals. Increasingly, an ecosystem is reimagined in a brand-new way in today's world. It amazed you how places so diverse could all be stationed in the same place. Many of the animals here were friendly to you. They were prey and had no fear of the passing of time.

One creature small in stature stood out to you.

A creature as white as snow, and ears that reached the heavens, yet the size of a hefty potato.

Groups of the creatures ran through the stunted grass, and around your bare, cut up feet. One of these fluffy animals stood out to you. So much so that you ended up naming her for the first time. A name and time you found beautiful and pretty, Day. She found a liking to you after you gave it the orange stick it was having trouble pulling out of the ground. She often rested on your shoulder and chest, soft fur cuddling you as the moonlight lured you both to rest.

Animals were innocent. They prayed on instinct, with no free will. They could do no wrong. Just like you. You enjoyed the rabbits company in this lone abandoned world, but your childhood wonder never faltered. Your tongue craved the taste of a meal. Though, you didn’t eat. Never have you. You feared it. You didn’t know why though.

Additionally, it was beyond your primary concern.

To pass the time, you watched and followed the wild rabbit on its adventures in survival. In the beginning, before you met the wild animal, you never really spoke, until you came across another like yourself.

One day, a distance away, you spotted a coastal village, a community that looked quite different to you. Your curiosity warmed your body and intoxicated your mind, and you craved to explore and understand. Your time here was nearly impossible to put into words. You guess you could say it was enjoyable, you had Day after all. However, in truth, you were fearful of what could happen in time…if you were to wander in a place unknown to you; a species forgotten in your memory. Days after your discovery, you pondered on your next choice.

The stress overcame you, and before giving up on your curiosity to explore another arena, a lost angel emerged from a cave behind a small waterfall.

You could still see him however.

Silently, you made eye contact with his light eyes. He stared back at you from across the pond where you stood in your glory, a slothful rabbit on your shoulder. Without a hitch, you dropped yourself into the pond and swam to the hidden cave behind the puddling waterfall.

The water was cold upon impact. Dirt was erased from your body and face as you swam the short distance, holding your rabbit above water, acting as a lift of sorts. Your spirial eyes however never left the angel, and he didn't run away for some reason. The twirls of hoops that stood as your irises were enticing. Your eyes stared at each other curiously. Being by yourself for so long, and never seeing anything like yourself, left you needy for thr interaction.

Water dripped down your body as you made it to land. You first placed Day on the ground gently, and she began to shake off the water. In front of you was a male with shaggy hair resting on his dainty shoulders. He was pale beyond belief. You assumed he didn't leave the dark cave very often.

You gulp. Your mouth was dry as he stared at your figure and you absorbed his facial features. His back was against the wall he sat against. You stood near the cave entrance still, water dripping down to your feet. You slowly approached him; he exhaled sharply as you did.

You stop in front of him. He flinches.

You crouch down a few feet away from him. Your rabbit waddled its way towards you, done with its exploration of the cave, and began cuddling against you.

Your eyes crinkle as you smile.

You rubbed their fluffy ears as you thought of what to say. In order to introduce yourself to the lost angel, you had named yourself after the beloved friend that you adore.

“Call me _____. It’s a pretty name, isn’t it?” Your words echoed throughout the cave and around it. Angel did not blink, he did not breathe. Your presence made him feel as if the entire world was stuck in time.

His stomach curled up as your gaze pierced through it, and his mouth dried up.

He licked his lips and began to speak as you silently waited for any movement of his. “I suppose…I’m Angel,” he said, hesitantly.

You didn’t say anything. Then you got up again, picking up your friend, Day, as you did so, and got back to your feet. Trying to grasp the meaning of this encounter, your eyes danced around the dark cave. The angel remained on the ground as you observed the cave he had claimed.

He stared at your lips which began to move.

"Ah, Angel," you whisper.

You give the name time to settle on your tongue. “I wonder...how we found ourselves here?” you faltered. Your eyes wandered the dark cave interior, as if the answer to your curiosity was among the walls. You were connected to Angel in a diabolical manner that you couldn't explain.

The halo above his head seemed to shimmer as he whispered, "…I wonder that too, ______.”

You were both as old as time.

Two wisdoms comparable to one child.

Morning days were young and with the sun being shy to emerge itself from the clear, pastel sea, where the waves were gentle and shallow, so were the evenings.

It has been months since you found yourself in this wilderness. Therefore, as this current moment of time consumed your inquisitiveness with each ticking second, the vagueness of the past gradually lost its relevance to you. Instead, you’ve grown a passion for the present.

The pebbles beneath your head and back were just as frigid as the river water you were submerging your feet in as you peered up at the evening sky. Day, your close companion, slept soundly on your tummy, snoring peacefully with rest. The miles-long cloud cover in the sky prevented you from blinking, but as soon as you did, you were able to watch the clouds gently, apparently floating away toward whatever land that was afar.

“Ah, Angel?” you called out for him. Your voice was one with the breeze and as calm as. “Day or night?”

Angel was a distance away from you, underneath a tree that stood close by the river. Under it, hidden from view, he was crouched on the grass. Because of this, you carefully listened to what he had to say with the lack of visuals. “Um…I would suppose night as it’s a world full of darkness, and that darkness is rather…evocative.”

You rolled onto your stomach, causing Day to scramble off of you, and faced him. The wet grass rubbed against your skin sloppily, frigid mud smearing on your skin, but you didn’t mind. “A world…full of darkness?” you questioned.

Your eyes; Angel couldn’t look in your eyes. Not with those rings that spiralled In obscure angles, if he stared long enough he would’ve thought your irises twisted ovally, like a Ferris wheel, ticking counter-clock wise like a hour hand would. You absorbed him in a moment of time, merely with your engrossment.

Angel’s exhaled shakily as he turned away. “….Yes. My memories…are sheltered within that—darkness. It’s all I remember from my past. Why…do you ask?” he pondered.

Day crawled themselves underneath your laying form, cuddling your chest and absorbing your heat. You appease the rabbit as you scratched it in the spot it liked.

“Hearing you speak is all I wanted, Angel.”

Days had passed since he last talked, and it had been weeks since you came across him. The majority of the time, your traveling companion was only accompanying you and following you because he felt fascinated by you and compelled to do so. The impulse to follow along when one encounters an adventurer who seems unrestricted.

“And what is your preference, ______?” Angel asked.

You quirked a brow. “Day or night?

He nodded.

The sunlight was disappearing by the seconds and each second felt everlasting as you hummed.

“Hmmmmm, day. Because…well, I don’t know actually. I don’t dwell on things, or wonder why very much.”

Angel couldn’t help but comment on that. “I can see that.”

You glance at Day, who rested, before remarking:

"The animals here share that mentality. Which is why I relish my appearance with them. They worry not of time thus they're never dreading death. Similarly to myself."

There was a pause before Angel frowned. "I hate animals."

Day’s ear, in rest, twitches narrowly.

"…You must hate death also," you conclude.

Everything you did, and everything you felt, you absorbed; soaking in knowledge and experience.

You shut your eyes tightly and covered your ears heavily. At the top of the mountain, the wind blew by so quickly that all you could feel was the breeze rushing by; all you could hear was the hazy murmur of rough currents pounding the sides of your head. The winds tortured your senses, and right now, you needed to think freely.

You opened your eyes slowly and took a deep breath.

You looked out into the distance, the same sight you caught before, a daint village near a beach encasing your view. Alas the traveling has ended. When you peeked over the mountain edge, the climb down was visually rocky and choppy, dangerous overall. It was a good thing Angel was with you because if you had tried to do that climb alone, it was certain that it would not have gone smoothly.

Though, it wasn’t all that certain that the trip down would go smoothly now as a duo.

As you turned to face Angel, you noticed that they were also looking at the steep descent with a furrowed brow. The two of you had been on the walking for weeks, traveling together to get to this exact spot. Now that you were finally here, the reality of the situation was beginning to set in. You could tell that Angel was feeling apprehensive about the climb down, and you couldn't blame them. The rocky terrain looked even more treacherous from this height.

Day stood next to your leg, fur rubbing against your feet. The feeling of their fur absorbed your concerns for a simple moment.

As you crouched down and rubbed behind Day's ears, memories flooded your mind. You remembered the day you found Day wandering alone in the woods, with no mother or siblings in sight. The little rabbit had been so small and vulnerable, and you knew you had to take care of them.

Ever since then, Day had been your constant companion throughout your journey. They had brought you comfort during the long and lonely nights, and their soft fur had provided warmth when the cold became too much to bear. You had grown attached to the little rabbit, and the thought of leaving them behind made your heart ache.

You knew, however, that bringing Day with you was impossible. The climb down from the mountain was treacherous and dangerous, and even if Day survived the fall, they would not be able to keep up with your pace. You couldn't bear the thought of Day being left behind, but you had no other choice.

You took one last look at Day, who had now fallen asleep. ”Day, I cannot bring you with me. You must stay on the mountain.” Your words go unheard as all you heard in response were Day’s little snores. You gently stroked their fur for the very last time before standing up from that spot.

Angel watched you from the short distance.

You walked beside him near the cliff, leaving Day behind before she could notice you had left. You then pointed in the distance.“That’s the village,” you state. “There will be others there. However, the climb is quite challenging. We’ll be able to do it together if we use each other as support.”

You leaned over the cliff, holding your hand behind yourself for Angel to grab. “Hold my hand. I’ll balance you and we’ll go together,” you tell him.

Instead of reaching for your hand, he pulls both his hands to his chest frantically. “I can’t. Please, leave me. I beg you to leave me behind _____.”

Your hand retreats and you turn back to him. “Why do you insist?”

He bit his bottom lip. “I hurt,” he confesses.

“My entire existence is diabolical. I…I drain life-spans with my touch.” His fist shook as he confessed to what he was. “I’m a Devil. And surely, my touch will kill you by the time we make down.…and I fear your death."

The sound of the wind surrounds you like a choir singing in harmony. The mountain is peaceful, and you take a moment to reflect on Angel's confession. You realize that his revelation has given you a sense of comfort and reassurance. For your whole existence in this new world, you felt like an outcast and different from these other lifeforms, carrying a diabolic burden that no one else could understand. But in that moment, you realized that you were not alone. You were both unwanted, facing a world that feared or rejected you.

He was unwanted, but you wanted him.

Despite the fear and danger that Angel's touch posed, you could sense that he was not evil, but rather a victim of his circumstances. You could relate to the pain he felt, the isolation and fear that came with being different.

“Do not be frightened, Angel. As we are all devils sometimes. Doesn’t make us awful. Time is so short and limited that…we feel like every little thing we do in that short time matters, when it doesn't. Rather be changed in the flick of seconds.”

Angel at first hesitates to accept your offer, so you take a step closer to him and gently grasp his hand. For a moment, he looks surprised and uncertain, but as you begin to caress his hand. His hand was limp in yours, as if he's never experienced this kind of touch before, one that isn't laced with fear or rejection. A look of realization then crosses his face as he put each puzzle pieces you together.

“I love you, Angel. As we exist together. You’re a sun. The world needs you, Angel Devil. I’m the moon, constantly chasing after you. Changing time for you,” you confess.

With his hand in yours, you pull him gently towards you, signaling that you want him to follow you down the mountain. Your look around at him as you pulled him. It is the way in which you look around at him, staring into his eyes, and the way in which they tick, that hypnotises him. Your voice comforted any nerve left in his body. 

“I’ll love you till the end of time, and I would never change this moment.”

Devil eyes that were as beautiful as an angel: you, the Time Devil.

Time: devourer of all things.

Angel and you strolled along the beach, your entwined fingers serving as a physical reminder of your profound connection, a sense of tranquility enveloped you both. Months to almost a year have passed since you and Angel made the climb down and abandoned the mountains grace, along with leaving Day behind. The villagers of the town had wholeheartedly embraced your presence, and you and Angel’s time spent together had become a cherished tapestry of shared experiences and memories.

Lost in your own world, your steps slowed as Angel noticed a figure in the distance—a woman, her presence commanding attention amidst the vast expanse of sand and sea. An air of intrigue settled over you, prompting a hushed silence to descend upon your conversation. You, ever perceptive, followed his gaze and locked eyes with the enigmatic woman.

“Someone’s on the beach,” Angel stated.

The mysterious figure possessed an ethereal beauty, accentuated by her cascading waves of light red hair, gracefully woven into a loose braid. As the gentle ocean breeze played with her tresses, it seemed to imbue them with a mesmerizing glow. Her gaze remained fixed on the horizon, her eyes reflecting the vastness of the ever-unfolding ocean.

“I don’t recognize them. Though I can’t really see them. Perhaps it's someone from another village.”

You squeezed his hand. “Angel, we’re not supposed to approach strangers.”

Nevertheless, curiosity beckoned both Angel and you, urging you forward, hand in hand, toward the unknown. Each step felt weightless yet purposeful, a shared determination to uncover the identity and purpose of this captivating presence.

As you approached, the distant figure turned slightly, her eyes meeting yours with an intense yet gentle gaze. There was an air of familiarity in her expression, primarily her striking yellow eyes with rings. The woman's countenance held a quiet wisdom, as if she had traversed through time itself, collecting its secrets and stories.

She waved the closer you got. “Hello, over here!” she shouted.

The rhythmic sound of waves crashing against the shore provided a subtle backdrop to the profound silence that now enveloped the trio. It was as if time itself held its breath, awaiting the unfolding of this enigmatic encounter. The vastness of the ocean seemed to mirror the vastness of possibilities, as if this meeting held the potential to shape destinies. A sense of connection intertwined the souls of Angel, you, and the mysterious woman, transcending the boundaries of time and space.

There was an unspoken understanding that your paths had converged for a reason, a purpose yet to be revealed. It was a moment suspended in time, pregnant with anticipation and the promise of discovery.

Together, Angel and you stood before the enigmatic figure, ready to embark on a journey that would unravel the tapestry of your lives, and perhaps, hold the key to unlocking the secrets of your intertwined fates. With hearts brimming with curiosity and anticipation, they awaited the words that would inevitably bridge the divide between the known and the unknown, forever altering the course of your shared existence.

Angel did all of the speaking. “Who are you…?” he asked.

Her gaze penetrated your souls, as she broke the silence with a question that sent a jolt through Angel's being. Her voice, soft yet commanding, seemed to resonate with a depth that transcended ordinary conversation. The woman did not acknowledge his inquiry. She openly disregarded you, no, her focus was on Angel solely.  

“Say. Show me your power,” she said. Her eyes gleamed with a mix of curiosity and knowing.

Angel's eyes widened, a flicker of surprise crossing his features. He turned to you, his hand gently squeezing yours for reassurance. The weight of the question hung heavy in the air, stirring a myriad of emotions within him.

For a brief moment, the world around Angel seemed to fade away, leaving only the three figures standing on the beach. The salt water drowning the air. Conflicting thoughts and memories swirled in his mind, like whispers of forgotten echoes. The woman's question had struck a chord, awakening a deep longing within Angel—an insatiable thrust of fear.

Angel responded, his voice tinged with vulnerability. “How do you…no way. My…power brings death—”

The woman repeated. “Show me your power.” She then points at you. “That’s a order, Angel.”

At those words, Angel hand dropped from yours, limply.

The atmosphere grew tense as the confrontation escalated. The once familiar gaze in Angel's eyes had been replaced by something unsettling, a sinister presence that had taken hold of him. The turmoil within him was evident, his inner struggle palpable, and it pained you to witness the internal battle he was fighting.

In that critical moment, Angel launched himself toward you, his movements driven by an otherworldly force compelling him to harm you. Fear and sorrow welled up within you, realizing that this was not the Angel you knew, but a puppet under the control of the malevolent entity that had engulfed him.

You focused your gaze on Angel, locking eyes with him as he closed in. There was an unspoken connection between you, a bond forged through shared experiences and genuine affection. Drawing upon that bond, you summoned every ounce of your willpower and directed it towards Angel.

With a forceful point of your finger, you uttered a single word: "Stop."

Time itself seemed to halt for Angel alone. His body froze mid-action, locked in place like an immobile statue. His eyes, once consumed by the Devil's influence, regained a glimpse of their former clarity, revealing a flicker of recognition buried beneath the chaos.

As Angel stood frozen, the atmosphere shifted. The woman, the enigmatic figure orchestrating this confrontation, couldn't help but display a twisted smile of amusement. She reveled in the display of power before her, relishing in the unfolding drama like a puppeteer overseeing her grand performance.

However, she was the last on your mind. You didn’t even spare her a glance as in that frozen moment, a myriad of emotions coursed through your veins. Relief mingled with a profound sadness as you realized the extent of the corruption that had befallen Angel.

You approached Angel cautiously, aware that time was suspended solely for him. With a tender touch, you brushed your hand against his cheek, a gesture laden with love and concern.

The frozen moment seemed to stretch on, each passing second a testament to your unwavering power over time. Yet, you were acutely aware that this was just a respite, a mere delay in the inevitable clash that awaited.

The woman’s amusement remained. She cupped her cheek. “You’re not human. Are you?”

The tension in the room reaches its peak as the confrontation between you and this woman escalates. The air crackles with a mixture of fear, anticipation, and raw power. Her piercing gaze never wavers, locked onto you with an intensity that sends chills down your spine.

You recognize the danger emanating from her, a woman shrouded in mystery and possessing unimaginable strength. She exudes an aura of dominance, as if she is used to being in control of every situation. But in this moment, you stand before her as an equal, ready to challenge her authority.

As you extend your hand, prepared to unleash your formidable ability to freeze time, the woman's movements are swift, almost too fast for your eyes to follow. She points at Angel, her smile widening, her eyes gleaming with a mix of sadistic pleasure and curiosity. A sinking feeling washes over you as you realize you have underestimated her once again.

“Explode.”

Before you can react, a deafening explosion tears through the air, filling the space with a blinding sand and a cacophony of destruction. The force of the explosion rattles your senses, causing your hand to tremble involuntarily. Your eyes widen in shock and horror as the remnants of Angel's existence dissipate into a bloody mess onto your form, and the warmth previously in your palm, now nothing.

The woman stands there, unaffected and unmoved by the chaos she has orchestrated. Her gaze locks onto you once more, this time filled with an unsettling mix of disbelief and calculation. 

In that moment, the realization dawns upon you. She has deemed you a threat. She acknowledges that you are a devil of exceptional power, one who possesses the potential to bring about her downfall. A devil of your magnitude, left unchecked, could disrupt the delicate balance she has crafted within this human society.

Before she could speak another word you shut your eyes, a surge of energy courses through your being, and a kaleidoscope of colors dances behind your eyelids. The familiar sensations of your body dissolve, and for a fleeting moment, you feel weightless, as if suspended between reality and the unknown. As time and space bend around you, the outside world blurs and distorts, warping and reshaping like a malleable canvas. In this transcendent state, the boundaries of the present fade away, replaced by a palpable connection to the past.

The sensation is both exhilarating and disorienting, as if you are being stretched and compressed through the fabric of time itself. The passing of a mere second feels like an eternity as you traverse the chronological tapestry. Memories and emotions intertwine, forming a tapestry of experiences that unfolds before your mind's eye. Scenes from bygone days flicker in and out of focus, as if you are leafing through the pages of a forgotten history book.

You then open your eyes, and once again find yourself back at the beach, hand in hand with Angel, just as before. The sun casts a warm glow over the sand, and the rhythmic sound of crashing waves fills the air. However, a sense of foreboding grips your heart as you spot the familiar figure of the woman in the distance.

A shiver runs down your spine, and you instinctively halt, causing Angel to stop beside you. His gaze follows yours, fixed upon the mysterious woman. “Someone’s on the beach,” he commented.

In this moment, you realize that your previous encounter with this woman did not alter your fate but merely delayed it. The knowledge dawns on you that her intentions are sinister, and she poses a grave threat to both you, Angel, but most importantly, the villagers who had only ever been so kind to you. Your mind races, trying to decipher a way to protect them all from the impending danger. At least..for a little longer.

��I don’t recognize them. Though I can’t really see them. Perhaps it's someone from another village?”

Angels words that now sound like a recording are unheard as you stand there, the weight of time burdening upon your shoulders. You know that time is running out, and the choices you make in this crucial moment will determine not only your own destiny but also the safety of your beloved Angel. The stakes are high, and the path forward is uncertain, but you are resolved to fight against the forces that seek to harm you, clinging to the possibility of perhaps rewriting your own tragic ending.

You turn to Angel, grabbing his shoulders. “Angel, I’m going to do something very brash. So that you can live a little longer. If I don’t come back, Angel, just know…that I love you till the end of time.”

He should’ve said he loves you back, but he didn't. He was startled. “What?”

You ignore his response and remove your grip. “Now go back to the village. For everyone's sake.”

Just as your said, Angel sprinted back to the village, confusion clouding his mind. He didn't fully grasp the gravity of the situation or understand the motivations behind the encounter. The urgency in your voice had spurred him into action, but now doubts crept in, accompanied by a sense of unease.

When he turned for one last glance, he saw your figure, walking purposefully toward the women with red hair, who beckoned you, their hands gesturing urgently as they called out words that were carried away by the wind. Angel strained his ears, hoping to catch a snippet of the conversation, but it was futile. Their words remained a mystery to him in this reality. A part of him wanted to go back, to demand answers, but something held him back—a lingering trust your intentions.

Though no one ever saw the you, the Time Devil, again, and little ever got the chance to know of your existence.

All witnesses of you, were dead and gone in the following month after your disappearance, killed by the person who survived—and last saw you.

Painfully, Angel was cursed with never remembering you. Angel forgot a significant moment in his life. A moment in time in which he loved someone, and in turn, was loved back; yet, now the past is far behind him, and the future does not exist.

REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED

PLEASE JOIN THE TAGLIST

© UNDERSCAR 2023 - All rights are reserved to underscar. Do not repost, copy, change/modify, plagiarize, translate or screenshot my work: this will also include not reposting my writing on other social media platforms and writing platforms.

[script-a-world]

Hello! I am building a scifi setting, and in this setting there aren't really any known planets besides Earth that would naturally support life (not human life, anyway), but over hundreds of years humans have terraformed several planets to support life in order to build settlements there, and that has included introducing plants and animals from Earth to those planets (my understanding is that terraforming, at least on this sort of degree, isn't really likely to be practical in real life, but that's something I am willing to handwave and go "it works because i say it works, just trust me bro" on).

Once that is done, the wild animals and wild plants brought over to a terraformed planet generally speaking are never transported from one planet to another again, although domestic animals, plants that are farmed, and humans themselves, might be. And I can see insects and microbes getting inadvertently transported from place to place among different kinds of cargo, since they're small enough to escape notice (I mean, the most venomous spider species in my country is a population of spiders that exists in one natural history museum because there were some accidentally brought over in a shipment of stuff from South America in the 60s or so. I can well see that happening on a planetary scale in a scifi story, too - but anyway)

My question is, if you have a population of animals that's isolated from other populations of the species to that degree, how quickly do you start seeing clear differences in the traits that different populations have? Like I don't expect to have entirely different species yet in a matter of centuries, but if you have a population of, say, roe deer, that would have been entirely isolated from other populations for like five hundred years, could there be differences between that population and other populations that a layman might be able to spot?

Tex: If everything’s on the same planet, it’s going to be difficult to truly isolate an area or population, because it’s going to be affected by the same planetary conditions, such as orbit around the nearest star, the ocean and its environment, etc.

Darwin’s finches, for example, have distinct variations in phenotype despite being effectively the same species (a similar situation for the Galapagos tortoises), which shows that a species’ genotypes can still appear as different physical traits given different environmental stresses.

It’s difficult to tell when evolutionary changes occur, because this depends on not only the species, but the environmental changes, the speed of such changes, and how deeply they impact a species in question. There currently isn’t any research being done on evolutionary characteristics of animals and their niche environments that I know of which has already been occurring for a hundred or more years, as much of our current generation of science is relatively recent given the scope of technological evolution.

Taking a look at the niche environment, how it differs from the originating environment (if this is part of the equation), how the two differ, and what environmental pressures are exerted would be a good start in extrapolating how phenotypic expressions might be altered without delving into the much more complex subject of epigenetic changes.

Utuabzu: Gravity, levels of light, the colour of the star, the length of the year and day and the degree of axial tilt are all going to have to be adapted to, since there's not that much that can be done about them. Organisms that evolved seasonal behaviours are going to lose those after a while on a planet with negligible axial tilt and thus negligible seasons. Organisms on tidally locked planets are going to lose traits dependent on a day-night cycle. Organisms on a high-gravity planet will get stockier, while those on a lower gravity one will get taller and thinner.

Photosynthesis is dependent on the interaction of a photosynthetic pigment with certain wavelengths of light. The dominant photosynthetic pigment on Earth is chlorophyll a, which reflects away the wavelengths we call 'green' and absorbs most of the rest of the visible spectrum. One theory for why it's dominant is that because the sun's emissions peak around the green part of the spectrum, this protects the photosynthetic organism from getting burnt - one point in favour of this is that non-chlorophyll a using photosynthesizers tend to favour shade. But around a different star, or even further out in our own solar system, chlorophyll a might not be ideal, and plants that use other proteins would reflect different spectra of light, and thus appear different colours.

But in terms of evolutionary timescale, it depends on generation length. Things evolve based on mutations that offer some benefit to the offspring of the mutant, leading them to be more successful than their peers and have more offspring in turn, which then are also more successful than their peers without the mutation and thus spread it through the genepool. A civilisation that can terraform planets on a reasonable timescale can almost certainly use genetic engineering as a shortcut to ensure their new biosphere can thrive immediately.

So you have a fair bit of leeway in terms of what you can do with other planets' biospheres. Terraforming on a scale shorter than thousands of years would already take technology well beyond anything we have, so you can handwave a fair bit.

[amostimprobabledream]

Ignite Me (The Homelander x Reader) Part Five

Hey guys! Sorry it took a bit longer to get this chapter out than the last few, this past month or so has been taking quite a toll on my mental health and so on...but I thought I’d give you one more before the New Year!  It was sunset, and the city was awash in a peach-gold colour that seemed to make everything look softer, somehow. Lighter. Traffic was gathering in the roads, people looking to go home after a long day at work. The streets teemed with people, going out to bars or restaurants or the movies. Everyone was caught up in their plans for the final phase of the day, of their own schedules. Homelander flew silently across the skies, his eyes scanning the buildings until he found the correct one. It was easy to forget the significance of a place once you left it, and he'd never expected to have to do this again, especially not so soon after last time. But he deemed it necessary, and once Homelander decided he wanted something, there was little anyone could do to dissuade him otherwise. Just who did you think you were? He had to admit, you were smart to have picked a time when he was busy dealing with journalists praising him for the interview and talking about setting up future publicity stunts. He didn't have the time to watch you every second of the day and you knew that, so the minute you had a moment alone, you'd taken advantage of Ashley's utter fucking incompetence to disappear as soon as possible, without so much as a word to him. Without even an explanation. Ashley hadn't taken long to crack - apparently, you'd given one little interview and decided to just dip out and go back to your ordinary, sad little life. Ridiculous. Homelander finally found the balcony he was looking for - the gauzy curtains were drawn this time and the effect made it considerably less welcoming, like a closed eye, but he drifted towards it anyway, touching down on concrete silently. He wanted the element of surprise, before you could come up with some pathetic excuse for vanishing on him like that. The door to the apartment was locked, but it gave easily with just the slightest bit of pressure from his hand, and a mirthless smirk crossed his face. What was the point of locking this door, anyway? Exactly who were you hoping to keep out? It wasn't like a thief would be able to get up here to rob the place - and the one person who could easily reach wasn't going to be stopped by a little thing like a lock. However, when Homelander stepped into your apartment, he paused. 

You were on the sofa, as expected, but instead of mindlessly watching TV or whatever else normal people did when they were at home alone, you were…asleep? Homelander frowned. For some reason, it had never occurred to him you might be sleeping, but here you were, taking him by surprise yet again. Your cheek was squished against the pillow under your face, chest rising and falling slowly, not even twitching. Judging from your heartbeat, you were likely deep in a REM cycle at the moment and were unlikely to wake up and start freaking out, demanding to know what he was doing uninvited in your apartment again. And that had him at a loss. He had come here to your apartment have it out with you, to pick a fight, because it pissed him off that you'd just casually waltzed out of Vought Tower like you could just leave whenever you felt like it while he had to stand there and smile like a trained fucking showpony. If he had to endure things he didn't want to do when he could literally crush those journalists like the insects they were, what made you think you were such an exception? Didn't you understand how any of this worked? But seeing you in such a vulnerable position, oblivious to the world or even to his presence...there was something about it he didn't want to disturb. Not just yet. After all, when did Homelander ever witness other people sleeping? Sure, he often woke up before Maeve or any one of his other recent conquests, but that wasn't quite the same thing. You didn't even know you were being watched - you'd clearly just thrown on some clothing, settled down and fallen asleep without realising it, judging by the awkward angle you were lying down, like you had been seated and just toppled sideways. He could see the TV remote still loosely dangling from one hand, inches away from being dropped to the rug beneath you. His eyes flicked to the coffee table in front of you and zeroed in on a foil packet of pills. A dart of alarm shot through him, and he snatched it up, inspecting it, wondering if you'd done something stupid like take drugs and then pass out - you didn't look like the type, but appearances could be deceiving. He didn't think you'd have the balls to tell Ashley to deliver a message to him or sneak off without being told you could leave, either. His eyes scanned the label - the pill was unfamiliar to him, but it looked like some kind of strong painkiller, nothing more. Homelander snorted softly and tossed the packet back on the table. He moved closer, drawn in by the soothing, steady thrum of your heartbeat. Homelander bit down on the fingertip of his glove and slowly peeled it off, setting it down on the table. Slowly, with even more care than usual, he reached out and set his hand on your forehead, smoothing back some of your hair. As he'd expected, your skin was warm to the touch - somewhat more than it should be, though Homelander himself tended to run hot, thanks to all the V that ran through his system. You'd said something earlier about not feeling well, but he'd ploughed through interviews with far worse than you ever had so naturally, he hadn't felt all that sympathetic. Why did people around him spend so much fucking time whining about bullshit? But perhaps, he'd been a little…harsh. Homelander was a big believer in a little tough love, but he sometimes would forget that other people didn't have his tolerance for it. They were liable to crumble instead of rising to the challenge. After all, you were just a human. Homelander’s bare knuckle gently grazed the peach of your cheek. He was used to minding his strength, so his touch was featherlight. You only gave a little hum at the physical contact, and then – maybe you sought comfort after a rough day, maybe you were just changing position, but you leaned into the touch, like a cat looking to be petted. He paused. Homelander recalled the look on your face when he'd gotten angry earlier. At the time it felt good, a kick of vindictive satisfaction at letting you know exactly the kind of bullshit he had to put up with all the time, that your one fucking day of discomfort had been nothing compared to his own, and to shut up your annoying complaints. But now, the viciousness in him from before had unexpectedly been drained from him like a lanced boil, now that he was capturing a glimpse of you - the real you, when you weren't smiling woodenly for a camera or telling him whatever you thought he wanted you to say - and now he was at a loss of what to do next. He didn't want to disturb this peculiar moment, where he was free to observe you as much as he wanted, where you were wholly unguarded and completely honest in your responses to him. It occurred to him that maybe you really didn't understand the importance of all of it - all the work they did at Vought, with photoshoots and movies and promos and countless other miniature projects that went into maintaining a Supe's image. After all, you weren't watched every second of the day, you had no idea what it was like to be popular and important and influential. Things like approval ratings meant nothing to an ordinary girl like you. So of course, you didn't think twice about walking away - because you really, truly didn't think it mattered. If he wasn't so thunderstruck by this line of thinking, Homelander might have barked a laugh. You really did inhabit a completely different world from him, didn’t you? Your naivete of it all was in equal measures frustrating and endearing, and it was fortunate for you that you had managed to make him lean towards the latter, at least for the moment. He restrained himself from snorting out loud for fear of waking you, watching your eyelids flickering, lost in the throes of a dream, most likely. Were you dreaming of him? He clicked his tongue softly, tilting his head as he watched you, your cheek still nuzzled into the palm of his hand. A hand that could so easily break your jaw were he so inclined, yet he didn’t. Something in him called for him to let this moment linger for as long as possible. He huffed through his nose. "What am I gonna do with you?" he murmured. ~ Your phone buzzed in your hand, startling you. You had been miles away, lost in your thoughts. You’d woken up suddenly that morning like you’d been about to do something and had suddenly remembered it. You didn’t remember going to bed at all, so for some reason waking up all snuggled up under your blanket had surprised you. You must have been especially exhausted, or maybe those painkillers had been stronger than you’d anticipated. “Hello?” you said, clamping the phone to your ear and trying to ignore the look of mild irritation from the hairdresser behind you - you'd had enough of getting judgey stares from people. “Hey!” a familiar voice chimed down the phone. “Long time no see!” You smiled and leaned back in your seat, immediately relaxing. Casey was an old friend of yours from university and hearing her voice was like an instant shot of pleasant nostalgia surging through you. She had a busy job (that paid much better than yours), so you didn’t get to see her as much as you would have liked, so whenever she found the time to pop back up like this, it was always a nice surprise. “Same to you,” you said, smiling apologetically at the hairdresser in the mirror. “How’ve you been?” “I’m good, but more importantly, how are you? Where are you? The background sounds weird.” “Oh, I’m just getting my hair done,” you said airily, glad Casey can’t see the way you’re tapping your fingers against the phone. Because getting your hair done is perfectly normal, but changing your look so that people will stop asking if you’re ‘the girl from the interview’, like that’s the only thing worth knowing about you, requires much more explanation you don’t feel like giving, especially not in a crowded place like this. The fact Casey hasn’t brought it up is such a relief you don’t want to push your luck. You’re hoping that people won’t recognise you if you change your hair colour a bit, and some other Supe scandals will eclipse it. You figured it was a pretty safe bet. “Aw, I bet it’ll look so cute!” Casey said, then you heard her smack her hand on the table for emphasis. “Hey, we need to get together and get drunk so I can appreciate it, and so we can dance without feeling stupid! It’s been forever since we hit the bars, I miss you!” You felt the flickering of excitement stirring in the pit of your stomach. Going out for drinks with an old friend might sound innocuous but going to the bar with Casey always ends up being a completely chaotic night and a lot of fun. She’s one of those people who talks to everyone, and crazy things tend to happen when she’s there. And god knows after the past couple of weeks you’ve had, you could use a drink. Several of them. “I miss you too!” you said, a grin spreading across your face and you felt dumb for getting so excited over a simple invitation, but you couldn't help it. You couldn’t remember when you last smiled like this. “And yes, yes, we do need to meet up. When were you thinking of going out?” “How about this weekend?” Casey said and you could just picture her flipping through her diary to make double sure she is in fact free. “Yeah, I don’t think I’m busy,” you said, knowing damn well you had nothing planned and probably would just end up wasting all weekend messing around on your phone if left to your own devices. “Awesome! Then I’ll see you on Saturday!” Casey said, then giggled deviously. “Wear something slutty!” “Will do.” You smirked, and Casey bid you goodbye before hanging up.“If you’ll follow me over to the sinks,” the hairdresser said, who looked less annoyed since you had hung up – maybe she’s used to people gabbing away on the phone the entire time, in which case you can’t blame her. “And we can take a look at how the colour is doing.” “Okay, cool.” You said, happy to stretch your legs for a second. The water felt good on your head and the way the hairdresser massaged your scalp as she carefully rinsed out the dye felt even better. You didn’t splurge on your hair that often in the interest of trying to keep it healthy (and because it’s expensive), so this all felt very indulgent indeed. Nothing prepared you for how good you’d feel when the hairdresser sat you back down in your chair and turned you to face the mirror, and you caught sight of your reflection. Wow. You thought, eyes wide, turning your head this way and that, admiring the way the light bounced off your freshly washed hair. It was different from your usual shade, but not bad. Not bad at all.“You like it, then?” the hairdresser asked, looking amused at your expression. “Yeah,” you said, with a little laugh. “I look- yeah!” “Come this way and I’ll ring you up,” she said, clicking across the floor. You grabbed your bag and followed her, watching yourself out of the corner of your eye as you passed by in the mirrors, hair bouncing like you were in a shampoo ad. You couldn’t wait to show off your new hair to Casey, or anybody else who might be interested in looking at it, for that matter. With this new hair, and with your invitation from Casey dangling above you like a Christmas tree bauble, you’ve decided to stop worrying about what comes next. Come the weekend and you’re going to let loose and have fun for once – stop dreaming of bullets and camera and eyes that glow red in the dark. You’re already mentally cataloguing every item of clothing you own for something appropriately slutty, because you realised that Casey’s right – what you need is to let go of all the worrying you’ve been doing these past couple of weeks, go out there and have fun – and maybe bring some guy home to fuck your brains out. You hated to admit it, but since that (stupid) kiss with Homelander it’s just driven home that you haven’t had a boyfriend or even really been dating much in ages. You deliberately don’t think about exactly how long it’s been. Come the weekend, that’s all going to change. Your reflection smirked. Wait til they get a load of me. Taglist: @zoleea-exultant, @ababynova

[throughtrialbyfire]

WIP Wednesday ♥

a HUGE thank you to @dirty-bosmer @v1ctory-or-sovngarde @skyrim-forever and @umbracirrus for tagging me this week!! i appreciate it so dearly, and i hope everyone's having a good wednesday. <3

i'm tagging @aphocryphas @thequeenofthewinter @gilgamish @totally-not-deacon and @thana-topsy !! and of course, anyone who wants to do this and i didn't directly tag, please feel free to say i tagged you! no pressure as always, can't wait to see what you're all working on!

this week, i have two bits to share. one's from Cycle of the Serpent, chapter 18, and the other is a one-shot i'm slowly piecing together about athenath's mother, Lorasephona, and how she met their family friends. i like working on backstory stuff, and i hope you'll all appreciate it, as well!

Cycle of the Serpent - Chapter 18

Wind raked its strong fingers through the plains. He tugged his cowl over his head to escape the sudden chill. The scent of wood-smoke from chimneys perfumed the air, stirring up against the indigo skies. Houses lined one district of Whiterun, businesses in another. A world of grids and winding streets atop rolling hills, with Dragonsreach perched high above it all, the ground it crested like the great claw of one of those heinous beasts. All of it stuck to him, the images of the houses and trees, the stones and the wood posts, the sound of night birds and insects in their natural chorus. At one time, he'd been adrift in the world. At one time, he'd known nothing but long roads and surface-level observations of towns, and here, he became keenly reminded of that life. After all, it was one he'd sunk back into before he'd crossed into Skyrim.

Briefly, he allowed his memories to play out before his eyes as he walked cautiously through the Whiterun streets. He'd made a good living in his travels, selling wares, healing the sick, even tending to ailing animals when called upon to do so. While he'd never called himself a physick, some did. Saving a few lives would do that to a man's reputation.

As he gazed out on the city, passing through narrow streets, his expectations of Skyrim unwound from his tight hand. Did he truly expect Nurelion to drop everything and take him on as an apprentice? He scoffed at it now. Still, it was worth a shot. He did not intend to give up, quite the opposite. But for now, just for now, a larger purpose presented itself in the wingspan of a beast and the path up a mountain.

Purpose. Lives needed no purpose to exist. He'd shake his head and deny it all he wanted, but in the back of the Bosmer's mind, the longing for it remained. To be known, to have his name scrawled across academic papers and his work lauded far and wide, an alchemist who did things none else could do, who created potions none else could make, who had lived and worked with purpose.

He didn't think his life would ever involve dragons, but c'est la vie.

Guards patrolled long into the night, bearing small torches whose flames starved for more oil. One passed him as he approached the temple of Kynareth, turning his metal face to Emeros. He only stopped momentarily to take a look at the Mer, then muttered an apology upon realizing this was one of the Thanes, and marched off into the dark. Emeros wondered what had passed through his mind.

He figured he didn't want to know.

With trepidation carrying his steps, he approached the Gildergreen. The tree startled him in its stark contrast to the land; where the city lived, breathed, and buzzed, this tree was cold, a husk, discarded shell. He scanned the upper branches, peering into the dark, the torches of passing guards giving him enough illumination to glimpse the wooden carcass before him, the warping in the branches, the angles and jutting shards of the once-living center of Whiterun. He found himself on a bench, allowing the night air to take hold of him. He tugged at his cowl like a shield against the withering breeze, a reflection of the week's past events crawling up from the streams of his consciousness. A week, that's all it had been? Disbelief rattled against him, but he shouldered it anyways.

He'd heard whispers of the Civil War. He had only heeded them as rumors, something that would surely not affect him. If he made it to Windhelm, to the White Phial, he would be so engrossed in work and conversations with Nurelion that the war wouldn't brandish a single thought to his neck. He'd been crossing the border, right before dawn, the thick of night's last breath still coating layers of pink against the horizon. He could remember a struggle, words exchanged, something murky in his memory, people in blue and silver mixed frantically with red and brown armor.

Then, he'd woken up in a cart with two other elves, and quite a few Nords.

The shock of the bindings set his nerves alight and he struggled against the tight-bound leather, but Wyndrelis - apathy coating his features, defeat, even - explained that it was no use, that he had already tried. Together, an idea formed, and they attempted to pry the bindings off one another. An Imperial soldier leading another cart observed them carefully, and they realized with dread pitting their stomachs that this was no use.

Then, Athenath, the wide-eyed Altmer awoke. Last to be tossed on the carts. Last to struggle. His fearful gaze grasped each face for a sign of help, from himself to Wyndrelis to Ralof to Lokir. All of these men were certain that they were going to die. Emeros swallowed the fear. He would go to the axe with dignity. Aldmeri pride, perhaps, stemming from his father.

Of course, they wouldn't make it that far. And with their former captor now a possible ally, they'd promised to warn of the dragon, and made their careful way to Whiterun.

Emeros rested his chin in his hands, watching the dim puff of torchlight and smoke, light passing over the houses, Nord architecture steadfast and hardy, stubborn and proud, much like the people inhabiting each home. He thought back on his companions. Wyndrelis, a mage with strange eyes and a calm demeanor. Athenath, a bard with a bright, silvery laugh and a bitter temper.

And of himself? There wasn't much to tell.

One-shot (unnamed atm)

The night threatened to clasp its hard fingers around her. As she was about to give up any chance of finding another living soul in these woods, a torch landed from a tree above her, plotting down into grasses below. She closed her eyes, the image of her surroundings in flames springing to her mind, but when she opened them, she saw nothing but the torch and it's decisively controlled flickering.

"What brings you here, elf?" Came a voice, roughened against and deep inside the throat of the speaker. Lorasephona slashed her gaze through the trunks of the trees, but catching nothing, she turned her eyes upwards.

Concealed in the darkness, an Alfiq, black as night, golden eyes narrowed down at her curiously. The Khajiit swished her tail lazily from the branch she rested, comfortable, it seems. Perhaps she'd been waiting for someone, Lorasephona thought as she backed slowly from the torch. She knew better than to try to defend herself from bandits, it did more good to outrun them, and Lorasephona was a very good runner.

"I don't-" she swallowed the lump in her throat, "I don't know, I'm quite-" she didn't know why she was admitting her situation, but the Alfiq raised her chin, inquisitive in her posture. "I'm lost, dreadfully, and-"

The Alfiq woman put up a paw, silencing the elf. "Mhm," she hummed, rising to her feet, slinking down to a fork in the branches where they thickened against the body of the tree, hunching down, tail swishing down against the bark. "Ka'taaji thinks, perhaps, you are more lost than you dreamed."

Lorasephona knit her brow. "Was that a threat?"

Swish.

"Only if you make it so."

Swish.

Lorasephona frowned, brow knitting. The Khajiit sighed, and with a controlled motion of her paw, the torch levitated. It found it's way to Lorasephona's hand, nervously outstretched, fingers clasping the handle.

"This one has no ill will for you, but… Wary, perhaps. These are unkind lands, and far from home, one must be prepared for whatever comes their way."

The elf nodded slowly, strings of her blond hair curling around her cheeks. The pallor of her face seemed to alarm the small Alfiq momentarily, golden eyes widening. She wiggled for a moment, cautious of the jump, before leaping down into the grass with an elegance and grace that betrayed her possible upbringing, images of wide, sprawling woods and golden-adorned mages of Elseweyr padding around Lorasephona's thoughts.

"Are you ill, elf?" Ka'taaji asked, tilting her head. Lorasephona paused, knitting her brow.

"What do you mean?"

"If the elf girl is ill, Ka'taaji will take her to Dra'khurra. Simple."

She weighed the options for a moment, but lying felt worse in these circumstances. Biting back the urge to say yes, on the off-chance that these people had food and a spare bed, she closed her eyes and ran her fingers through a stray curl at her cheek.

"No, I'm just… I'm not ill."

Ka'taaji waited, but with Lorasephona's refusal to elaborate, she gave a small shrug. After a moment, she turned, the grass prickling under her paws. "Follow this one, you must be hungry. And take care of that torch, Ka'taaji is using much of her magicka to keep it lit."

So it was magic. Lorasephona, confusion matting her expression, decided not to question the Alfiq, and followed.