#him deciding its too much effort to hunt them too

[redbean-nom]

the contrast between elsbeth's tribe (nightsister... commoners? peasants? villagers?) fighting grievous vs talzin's clan (nightsister royalty) is so funny like.

elsbeth's clan: probably-Mother Selena dueling grievous with two fire sickles that melt/short out when hit by lightsabers (grievous didn't even split his arms! it's literally a leisurely spar for him). approximately three archers in the background. one single unit of B1s and B2s plus possibly a handful of commando droids. elsbeth hiding in a tree and falling out.

talzin's clan: Mother Talzin voodooing Dooku from the castle basement and then levitating in a giant electric sphere and zapping the entire droid army for like five minutes straight. Ventress dueling four-arms grievous for equally long. An entire army of archers casually force-speed/force-jumping over entire trees. Grievous' full fleet, a bomber squad, a unit of commando droids, magnaguards, state of the art experimental tanks, more regular tanks, and a full army of B1s/B2s. Daka long-distance-necromancing the entire clan and resurrecting every single dead nightsister in the entire region. Talzin finally not-surrending by turning herself into a force ghost and then promptly going to start a cult to revive herself/the dead nightsisters.

[elixrr]

Stages of Love! : Part 2

STAGES : how they fell in love (1), them as they pin for you (2), how they plan the confession (3), their confession (4) FT : Yanqing x Teen!Reader CONTENT NOTES : Nothing but pure fluff! It's headcanons but in the format of your average fanfiction, excluding dialogue (except for the confession part)!

STAGE 1 - how he fell in love with you.

It wasn't planned. He'd never suspected that he would fall for you on this one strange yet fateful day. Yanqing recalls, though, when you and he had first met. You weren't a cloud knight, but you admired the swords that each soldier carried. You weren't nearly as interested or as engrossed in swords as he was, but you still thought they were something worth looking at; something to admire. And to be honest, he admired that about you, too. Someone who was interested in swords! Maybe Yanqing was just bored, maybe he was curious, but he was definitely feeling social that day, and so he approached you— not that you noticed, though. Aloud, you asked a question about some of the swords. He doesn’t remember what you asked on that day, but it was a question that he answered, and that’s what earned him a new friend, and that new friend was (and is) you.

But that wasn't really what made him fall. It was more so the effort you put into the friendship that made his heart swell and squeal. You realized very early on that his life revolved around swords and swordsmanship, and to make him happy, you started to research swords. You grew closer to him by learning about swords and discussing anything and everything pertaining to them, swordsmanship, and even the Cloud Knights. He didn't actually know that you were putting so much effort in for him until he witnessed it all himself. On a mediocre, boring, and especially eventless summer day, Yanqing found himself strolling into a library. It's hardly ever too crowded, but it's not abandoned. It's a public library, but more private, and while he doesn't really enjoy books, he loved to look at the covers of certain fantastical stories and skim through pages of various books that have some sort of relation to swords and the simple topic of swordsmanship. It was on this day that he ran into your slumped figure scrolling on your phone with various books laid in front of you, a lot of which having books on swords and stories that pertained to sword masters. One particular book was a well-known, cliché, and typical fictional story that had its protagonist draw their blade at the main antagonist for some heroic reason that leads to a duel at the very end of the book. Actually, he was the one who told you about that story, and you decided to read it. Or, rather, you were in the middle of reading it, but you were distracted by Gunaifen's most recent post about ghost-hunting. He remembers that day well. Next to you was a small pile of books that Yanqing had mentioned before, and they were all books that he wanted to try and pick up (as they were about swords, swordsmanship, and mainly were written by old Luofu sword masters). Before you'd met him, you weren't all that into swords. You thought they were cool, but that was it. Maybe Yanqing was able to convince you that swords were so much more than what meets the eye?

But then he asked you, and he learned that you just wanted to give him a friend to talk to. You noticed that people eventually grew tired of his constant talk of swords, and you wanted to give him a nice little change where he could finally just speak to someone about the things he likes.

His heart jumped. He might've jumped, too—slightly, only slightly, but he was caught off guard. A rose-tinted blush blossomed across his face, and he excused himself out of the library, and from the window, he saw you continue reading the books. Later that week when you visited him briefly, you gifted him that small pile of books, and for some reason, Yanqing couldn't shake off this weird and fuzzy feeling that he felt every time you appeared in his thoughts.

STAGE 2 - how he's pining for you.

Lately, it's been frustratingly hard to function properly when he thinks of you. It's even worse when he sees you! He panics a little, freaking out about what to say or do around you, and it's a feeling so incomprehensible to him because he's never been an overthinker. He never dwelled too much on worries, but now he double checks himself in the bathroom mirror, he fixes his hair a little more, and whenever he's off duty and he takes a stroll around the Central Starskiff Haven, Yanqing always seems to glance around for the potential sight of you because he'd be wearing either his newly washed uniform or his best, polished outfit. The thing is, Yanqing has never dealt with love before. He's never really cared about anything outside of swordsmanship, swords, and being a Cloud Knight, but now you seem to override everything he's been paying attention to, and that's causing him to focus primarily on you, even when his current tasks don't even pertain to you! He finds himself groaning so much everyday now, and it's no longer from the frustration of training.

Love is just a strange thing for this boy, and that's easy to spot. He doesn't understand this furious sting in his gut and heart when he sees you talking to another guy-- hell, just anyone with a sword! It's embarrassing when he thinks about it, but he's sure that he would make for a much better swordsman than anyone else you'd hang out with. He's destined to become the next greatest swordsman in the entirety of the Luofu, so if you wanted to talk to anyone else with a sword, he could be your best bet!

Still, he knows better than to barricade you from friends. He just can't help but feel a slight irk whenever he sees you with someone else. It could be his mind tricking him, but you might be smiling a little wider and a little more with some other guy from the Cloud Knights, and if he gets the chance to see who this guy is exactly, he might request a sparring session with him with you to watch. Would he do that? Maybe. But then Yanqing imagines your sad face to see this other guy hurt, crap, he can't do that! He doesn't even know if you guys are actually friends or not, so what's it to him? He groans so much now, it's so frustrating to even try and grasp what these feelings mean. Why is he so jealous of people who talk to you? Why does he yearn to just be in the same room as you so much? Why does he feel his heart pound at the slightest glance, at the smallest smile, and at the littlest touches that you provide him? He's blushing, crap, why does his face feel so hot right now? The General notices the changes in Yanqing personality, performance, and even his improvement in looks. He asked Yanqing about his frustrations and what's been going on with him as of late, and Yanqing, not knowing what else he could do about this, tells Jing Yuan about his dilemma. He understands the situation immediately, and now that he's caught wind of his potential (literally guaranteed 100%) crush, the General might try pushing you guys together. No more pining, no more screaming into a pillow at two in the morning for Yanqing! It's time to let the confession commence!

STAGE 3 - how he plans for the confession.

Technically, Yanqing hardly does any of the planning. It's mostly Jing Yuan. Jing Yuan plans most, if not all, of your sudden hangouts. Yanqing had once caught the General telling someone that he, Yanqing, wasn't available at the moment because he was about to go on a date… A date? Yanqing? On a date? With you? His face exploded into a beet red, and he refused to listen to the General's pushes for him to go out with you.

However, because of that, you'll notice that Yanqing has been avoiding you for a while. Even if you tried going to his usual sparring sessions, he'd break out into a sweat, he'd start to get nervous and a little red, and he'd ignore you as though you weren't there. Of course, to him, it helps him clear his mind, but as your appearance in his everyday life begins to thin out, and as you begin to talk to other guys, he starts to worry about you and your friendship. He's not dumb; he knows why you're not appearing on his life as much anymore, but now the hurt is starting to sink in. He can't avoid you any longer. The longer you're gone, the more he thinks about you. Yanqing finds himself tugging at his hair in frustration— why can't he just figure this out?!

.

“Talk to them.” Jing Yuan says.

“But, I— I just, I...? I don't know how? I mean, I know how, they're my best friend! It's just... I don't know, I haven't spoken to them at all lately, and—”

“You have a crush on (Name), Yanqing. It's normal for these feelings to arise, but it's useless to push them away. The more you push (Name) away, the bigger the chances of your relationship tearing will become. Talk to (Name), even if it's as friends. They will appreciate it, I know.”

“I...” Yanqing was at a loss for words. “I will. Thanks, General.”

In truth, he never thought that he could lose you through this. How naive, he Yanqing realizes, for him to expect everything to be the same as it was after avoiding you like the plague. Hearing Jing Yuan and his advice, Yanqing fights the urge to bite his nails off at the mere thought of losing you. He doesn't want to, and now he's willing to do as much as he can to stop this potential ending.

So, off Yanqing goes to find you and make amends... and maybe ask you out.

STAGE 4 - the confession.

As if a field of cotton grew in his throat, a lump formed and prevented speech from flowing. Yanqing stood near you, watching you from afar as you hung your feet low towards the ground, kicking them around occasionally in thought. He needed to do something. He needed to say something because he almost felt you slip away from him. You haven't spoken to your friend for a whole month, plus an extra week. You miss him, he misses you, but he's afraid. And you're hurt.

He sees it in your eyes, gloom overriding that spirit he had once seen in you. It lingers in your impassioned brows that nearly meet by the creases made above your nose. You're upset, clearly so, and Yanqing regrets his avoidance when you decide to stand and start towards the exit of the training ground.

"Wait! Don't leave!" You turn around, confused by the voice of your ex-friend. Surprise! It's him. Yanqing stares at you, hesitant and speechless. It's clear that shouting was hardly his plan.

"Yanqing?" You call in awe, "Is that really you?" He panics, realizing that you're running straight for him. Are you mad at him, or are you just happy to see him?! Wait, you must be so mad at him, no way you would just take this situation lightly after all of this time-

But you hug him. Thank Lan and whichever Aeon let this happen! Feeling your embrace, Yanqing thinks that he's forgotten what relief and joy felt like for the whole duration you were gone. He can't deny it, he missed you so much, and from the way his arms reciprocated the tight embrace, you knew that he didn't mean to hurt you.

Yet, you still want to know why he avoided you.

"Yanqing, why'd you leave like that?" You ask, muffled in the sleeves wrapping his shoulder.

"Well- I..." No use lying now. Yanqing fumbles, trying to figure out the words he wants to use. "The General..." No use lying now.

No, you deserve to know why.

"The General told me that I, uhm, apparently... Don't like you as my friend anymore?"

CRUD! What the heck was that response? Don't like you as my friend anymore? Holy hell, I like you so, so much! Yanqing cringed at his own voice. You pull away from the hug, shocked and visibly hurt from what he just said. You- You can't believe him, right? Yanqing prays amidst this awkward pause that the ground swallows him whole.

"...What? You don't- you don't want to be friends? Why? What's wrong with me?"

"No, no, no! Nothing's wrong with you, crap, I actually think you're amazing! I didn't mean what I just said, I meant to say something else- I just- I don't know, I kind of panicked and I-"

"Relax," you put a reassuring hand on his shoulder, "tell me what you wanted to say. Just tell me the real reason why you had to avoid me, then."

Yanqing looked at you, the lack of distance nearly shutting him down as a whole. Aeons, after being deprived of your presence for more than a month, he's not used to having you even breathe the same air as him, let alone have your gaze on him while he's fully aware of it. It's overwhelming, his heart is racing, and he can only spew out a few vowels in response.

"It's fine, you're alright, and you'll be alright. Just tell me what you can."

"I- uhhh," tell you what he can? Sure thing, "you see, I..."

"I... I like... you...?"

That was not the response you were expecting.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ @gamergirl029

HEREEE IT IS I'm so sorry that your request took so long, I don't know why I took so long 😭🙏 THANK YOU FOR YOUR PATIENCE. You are amazing!!!

[valsdelulucorner]

Hiiiii it’s me again for some more mermaid requests (btw thank you for taking for taking my last request). So I was thinking if you were up for it some hurt/comfort if mc managed to escape the island but decided to come back for a visit? So despite the bois best effort to keep mc on the island and they really tried, somehow mc managed to escape (not that I blame them imagine only eating sea food, fruits and water for months without any spices and non of the comfort of modern society anyone would go crazy) in the middle of the night somehow. But after a couple of months after reacclimating to society and the wonders of modern society holds they being to miss their fishy bois. So mc gets on a boat with a bunch of apologies gifts (ruichan merch for Levi, a water proof pillow for Belphie, some trinkets for mammon ect ect you can decide the gifts) and heads out mermaid island. Tear full reunion all that jazz. So if you could what would their reaction be to discovering that mc left, How they acted while mc was gone and what was their reaction to mc coming back?

Note: if this is too much just please their reaction to mc leaving and their reaction to them returning

This is absolutely adorable<3 i might do their reaction to the gifts in another fic but i'll definantly do how they react to MC leaving and coming back

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Obey me brothers when you leave them then come back after a few months : mermaid au<3

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They were asleep when you got taken back to the mainland, you had a bad nightmare so you decided to take a walk along the beach to try and clear your mind, leaving the brothers asleep in the cove. A rescue helicopter flew overhead the island trying to look out for any shipwrecks when they managed to spot you from above, sending down a ladder for you to climb on.

For some reason, you decided to climb up the ladder, getting hauled into the rescue chopper before being taken safely back to land. Lucky for you, you memorized the way back to land, memorizing the port where you land at. For the first time in months, you get a proper meal and some proper water that didn't need to be boiled or collected in banana leaves. You were able to see your family again, your friends, and you were able to go back to your old life, but what about the brothers?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The sound of the helicopter over the island didn't wake them up, they were used to the sounds of them coming over the island but its when it remained over the island that they started waking up. Mammon was the first to realize you were gone, hauling himself onto your little ledge to see if you were maybe hidden behind a box but nope, you were gone. He got worried and started asking around his brothers if they have seen you, causing all of them to wake up at the panic in his voice.

Lucifer being the oldest poked his head out of the underwater entrance to the cove, poking just his eyes out of the water to see two men hauling you into the chopper. Seeing this enraged him, letting the others know that you were taken from them forcefully, not seeing you willingly climb up the ladder to leave.

With the narrative set and hearts heavy, they all worried and mourned the loss of their little human friend, constantly patrolling the waters and yelling out your name into the bush of the island, hoping, praying that you might respond and show up. They started hunting more and started getting more aggressive towards ships coming by the island, it was humans that took you away so its humans that will pay the price. The island became a no-go zone for sailors, cruise ships, fishermen and divers, the word spreading that ships that come across the island never come back. Word spread quickly across the medias and soon came back to you, sitting in your comfy bed back at home.

This is the time that you thought was right to head back to the island to visit your mer-friends, packing two bags full of your clothes, water purifiers, fire starters, and some snacks you like while you will the other with presents for the brothers to apologize for being away for afew months. So you set sail, using your grandads boat to try and make your way back to the island. With constant warnings and rumours surrounding the island, you knew the general direction of the island. The closer you got, the heavier the feeling of dread felt in your gut.

After what seemed like hours on the boat, you could spot the island in the distant, the familiar site of the large cove and sharp rocks brought a strange sense of comfort to you as you got closer. That sense of comfort mixed with the feeling of dread left a strange taste in your mouth, discomfort fully taking over as your ship started to rock and shake. A scream left your throat as something attacked your little boat, a large gash at the bottom of the boat causing you and your bags to sink, luckily your bags were waterproof. You tried to get to your bags but something dragged you under and slammed you against the sandy floor, gripping your neck harshly as they keep you against the floor. It was like a blur and the impact of when your head hit the sand made you dizzy, you couldn't breath as the shadowy figure held you down against the sand.

It wasn't until something dragged him off of you is when you felt the clawed hand release your neck, something grabbing your arm and dragging you back to the surface. "MC?! MC, hey, MC?! Wake up" It was mammon, his hand lightly slapping your cheek to try and get you conscious again while he held your head up above water. 6 more heads emerged from the depths aswell as you finally started breathing again, a guilty looking Lucifer ushering you all back to the island while beel dragged your bags along.

The amount of relief they felt when they saw you again was insane, they all quickly got you back to the cove and got you up onto your little ledge, making sure your alright while beel places your bags next to your makeshift bed. Lucifer apologized for being so aggressive while mammon didn't let him near you, gently making sure your alright as asmo carefully tends to your neck. Levi was arguing with mammon because he wanted to see his human too while Satan hauled himself up onto the ledge with beel, trying to find something to patch up your neck while belphie rests his head on your lap. They were really surrounding you, so glad that your back with them now.

You didn't dare tell them you left on your own accord, letting them believe you escaped the vial humans that took you away from them, it would break their hearts so you just let them believe. You saw and felt what Lucifer did to you, you don't want to know what would happen if you told them you left. For know, you just let them surround you, happy that their little human is finally back with them

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This was a long one! This was so fun to write about though, even if it is abit janky in some spots.

What should I do next<3

[tripleglitchwriting]

if you're taking requests, maybe something about g1 beachcomber attempting to communicate and make friends with a human?

I don’t know too much about G1 Beachcomber, but I think I know enough to write about him. Here goes!

Also, I am so, so sorry it took this long 😭😭 I’ve been having a bit of a hard time writing recently.

In That Moment

First contact G1 Beachcomber and human

No warnings!! Other than a few mentions of war, it’s pretty fluffy. Enjoy!

The planet they ended up on was beautiful. It was filled with so much life, most creatures too small for him to hold or see properly, but that didn’t make them any less amazing! The sheer variety in each and every species was astounding. To think they had been here all this time, just waiting for someone to find them.

The Ark had landed near one of the planets many oceans. Water covered most of planet actually, which made for quite a wide array of biodiversity both on land and in sea. The area he’d found himself in had tall trees with only a bush like flourish of leaves on its top, plenty of grasses and flowers, as well as a lot of sand. A lot of sand. Not his favorite, but things like that were common in places unlike Cybertron.

In the water nearby he spotted splashing, something other than the crashing waves hounding the shore. Out of curiosity he trotted over to investigate. A slick, gray marine lifeform was making arcs leaping from the water into the air. It was too far out for him to truly get a good look at it, but it was a fascinating being even from where he was standing. Just as he stepped into part of the shallows in a vain attempt to get closer, there was a scuttling at his pedes.

A very small crustacean was darting away from him. Unfortunately Beachcomber was a little too big to properly handle the thing without accidentally hurting it. It seemed to have an array of legs with two large pincers on its front. For protection maybe? Hunting for prey? It crawled out of sight before he could figure it out. Beachcomber ex-vented. There had to be something here he could get closer look at….

Oh well. He still had some time before he had to get back to the arc. Optimus had specifically told everyone not to get involved with the local dominant species, but how was he supposed to pass up an opportunity like that? The war had robbed him of peaceful interaction with countless other races. Now that they were hiding here, maybe he’d have the time to communicate with a brand new people!

The time passed slowly. Most of the organisms were either too far in the water or too small to handle. They were all terrified of him too, which made sense, but it was still a bummer. He’d really hoped to make a grand discovery here, it seemed like a great habitat for plenty of species. Turning away for the water, Beachcomber decided it may be time to give up for the cycle. Maybe he’d try a different place next time, or a- OH!

When he came to turn around, something new was standing in front of him. Bipedal, strikingly similar to a Cybertronain, just… smaller, and with… fabrics, and… carrying something. He hadn’t seen anything on this planet wear fabrics before… or approach him willingly, this had to be the sentient species of the planet! How lucky was he to meet one just as he was about to leave!

It- or, they, he supposed, began warbling something at him. This was a fantastic opportunity to communicate! Quickly Beachcomber fell to his knees in order to get closer to the new person, inadvertently causing the ground to shake around them, the person stumbled. They took more steps back in hesitation, obviously weary.

“No, no, sorry, I’m not tryin’ to scare ya.” Narrowed eyes met his own optics. In an effort to connect, Beachcomber held out a digit. “See? I’m not hurtin’ nobody.”

Their little eyes sparkled with curiosity, and though he detected a healthy amount of hesitation, they put both their hands on his one digit after flinging the object they were carrying over their shoulder. The tiny servos were warmer than he thought, it was very pleasant feeling actually. Their lips curled up into a shy smile.

Beachcomber could hardly contain himself. This was the discovery of a lifetime! Well, maybe not a lifetime, but it was still fascinating to witness! They weren’t as afraid of him as the rest of the creatures, they were intelligent, sentient! He’s been over that fact in his head before, yet it still astounded him. Prime might be upset with him if he knew… but no self respecting bot would pass up an scientific opportunity like this. Maybe Wheeljack would want to see… no, actually, on second thought that’s probably a horrible idea. Bumblebee maybe? Or Percy. He wasn’t even supposed to be here though, what is he was found out? What if- a sound coming from below dragged Beachcomber out of his thoughts. The person was doing something with the object they had, seemingly opening it. It’s a carrying device then!

They bent down and set it on the ground, still wearily gazing up at him. From inside the device, they pulled out some small rectangular object with a glass lens in the middle and some other bits and bobs around its front. Of course he didn’t have any idea what it was. Alien technology isn’t something easily understood at first glance.

In his frenzied daze, Beachcomber completely forgot one key component about actually communicating with this new species: language. That didn’t stop him from trying to talk to them anyway.

“Hey, what’s your designation little guy?” The creature raised the object to its optic and pressed a button, causing the thing to make a bright flash at Beachcomber. He immediately went on the defensive and positioned his helm much farther from the thing, ready to use his servos is need be- a product of fighting for so long. However, the flash didn’t seem to have any effect on him or the creature, though his little friend was visibly caught off guard with his sudden movement. Primus, he really needed to stop doing that if he was going to talk to this thing!

Not long after a small white slip of something began to come out of the bottom of the device. The creature grabbed it and began waving it around in the air… was it another attempt to communicate? Or maybe a threat display or some kind? Against his better judgement, Beachcomber brought himself closer once again. This time, he resigned to observation. Studying other species always intrigued him. Organic species especially, he could never get over how soft some of them were! Like this one, their little cheeks were so pinch-able! Oh how he would love to talk to them about it… but at the moment the language barrier was too large.

Or so he thought.

The white slip began to change color the longer it was waved in the air. He hardly noticed it at first, and he couldn’t get a good look at what was appearing before it was turned away from him. To Beachcomber’s surprise, they began warbling at him again, and to his even greater surprise, they showed him what was on the slip.

It was him. It was a picture of Beachcomber.

Needless to say, he nearly shouted at the poor thing in pure excitement. Luckily he was able to contain himself through the power of focusing all his energy into thinking about the implications of this rather than actually moving or saying anything. What is this technology? How did they do that? Did they make it themselves? Oh, the questions he had were making it hard to think!!

“What an interesting lil’ one you are…” He slowly raised one of his digits to them. They backed up, hesitant, but he didn’t chase them. He just kept his digit patiently in place. As it seemed, that patience was about to pay off.

The creature stared at him for a second. Then, after carefully setting down their device, they raised their own tiny servo to his digit. Their squishy little palm radiated warmth. Beachcomber radiated utter joy. Their itty bitty face shifted from what he assumed was fear to an astounded wonder. He could even feel something that reminded him of a sparkbeat behind their digits. He couldn’t hide his smile.

Unfortunately, the bearing of dente seemed to scare them a little. The wonder on their face was replaced with nervous concern as they retracted their servo and took a step back. Beachcomber immediately covered his intake and shifted his weight away from the creature. They were so skiddish! But that was probably how any rational being would react in this situation…

Now what was he supposed to do? He could try again, they responded well to the slow movement before, maybe they would understand he was trying to make a positive connection. Maybe he could find them fuel, they’d like fuel, right? His mind traveled elsewhere as he became lost in thought. Just when he decided on what to do, (try slow moments again) he felt something on the tip of one of his digits- one that was splayed on the ground after he moved back.

It was the creature. They’d made their way towards him while he was preoccupied in his thoughts. The expression of contemplation he held previously dropped like a weight off his chassis. At that, they smiled. It was awkward and unconfident, but it was a symbol of mutual understanding. He didn’t know exactly why… but it felt like an apology.

Beachcomber pulled his lips into a much neater grin. The creature brightened up at that, chirping at him and bouncing in place. He took the opportunity to move his other servo slowly towards them. They acknowledged the change but didn’t shy away. Carefully, as they stood there with wide and curious optics, he rubbed a digit on their helm. He was both ecstatic and astonished to see they didn’t try and push it away or take it as a threat. They just waited until he was done.

When he did finish, he figured it was time to take the next step. Beachcomber slowly brought his servo down palm-up right next to the creature. They were a bit confused as to what he was trying to do, but when he took his other servo and tapped his palm with a gentle metal clink, they seemed to understand. With weary but brave movements, they put one pede on the living platform. Then another. Cautiously, they made their way to the dip of his palm.

Beachcomber gave them a second to find a comfortable position. When they did, he began to move. He began slow enough that they would be able to jump off if they felt uncomfortable. To his delight, they stayed put.

As the planet’s star began to dip down under the horizon line, Beachcomber held the creature close to his chassis. His spark was filled with complete warmth for the first time in a long time. It was a comfort he’d been missing since the war started.

The two simply sat there in a serene moment of peace and appreciation. This planet wasn’t his home, but it was the home of the friend he made today. No matter what, he vowed to protect this harmony at all costs. But for now, he resigned to watching the sunset and feeling the lightweight creature on his servo tap a soft and gentle beat on the metal.

In that moment, it seemed like everything was going to be okay.

[nsharks]

bleeding blue | part fifteen preview

Pearly sunlight weaves through the trees, casting freckles across the calm current of the creak. Somewhere, a raven bleats loudly, but your ears block out the sound. The skin between your brows wrinkles with concentration as you tightly grip the wooden makeshift spear, its carved point hovering just above the water.

Numerous fish writhe below you, and your eyes dart between them studiously before finally settling on the meatiest one. With a quick stab, your spear pierces the water, but all it hits is the mucky bottom of the creak. The fish startles with a splash and swims off downstream. 

"Fuck me," you huff, standing up from your squatting position on the rock to soothe the growing ache in your thighs.

Fishing shouldn't be much different than hunting, yet, it's been hours and all you have to show for it is a small chub the size of your palm. With a sigh, you decide your craving for fish isn't worth all this effort and leap off the rock, carrying your measly catch in one hand and spear in the other. Maybe the still waters of the pond could be an easier spot to try someday.

You chose the creak over the pond because it's a greater distance from camp. The longer walk allows you to fixate on the emerald green leaves fluttering in the breeze and the soft chatter of swallows that are returning after their winter migration. It's the most beautiful day in a while, and the warmest, too. For the first time, you departed the cabin without a jacket, opting for only the long-sleeve tee from Ghost. You had the sleeves rolled to your elbows while fishing, but as you trek back through the wild grasses, you push them down and allow the fabric to brush your knuckles. 

There are hardly any flowers left on the Pink Sorrel after all your foraging. Arriving at camp, you amble over the plucked stems, bound across the trench with ease, and spot Blue on the other side of the gate offering Grim a wad of grass.

"Hey," you greet. "Open the gate for me?"

Grim is given a pet across his back before she leaps up to undo the locks. 

“Hey. How’d it go?” The flicker of her eyes to your near-empty hand is answer enough. "Fucking noodles. That's it? I thought there were lots of fish there."

"There are. I just suck at catching them."

She gives you an apologetic smile. "Oh," she chirps. "Ghost was looking for you, by the way."

"He was?"

"Not sure what for." Her brows furrow. "I'm also not sure where he went. He was here, and then—" Her blue eyes glimmer like water in the sunlight as they shift to something in the distance. "Oh, there he is."

The very person you'd spent hours of alone time trying not to regard arrives as a shadow, lugging what appears to be—you squint—a fucking corpse behind him. Upon closer inspection, it is certainly a body, and with how wonky the limbs look as they drag against the ground, it must be a Grey. That's a little more reassuring, and a lot less bothersome, than if it were a human corpse. 

He drops the corpse in front of the trench, rubs his gloved hands together, and then passes through the parted gate. 

"Is that what you wanted Twix for?" Blue asks, nodding to the Grey.

Ghost explains himself in an even more gruff baritone than usual. "Knew I smelled something." He looks at you. "I wanted you to check south while I checked north."

"Oh. Sorry," you say lamely and hold up the small chub. "I was, uh, fishing. Looks like you found the source, though. Just one?"

He nods. "Only found one, could be others." 

As you drag in a deep breath, you recognize the faint smell he must be referring to.

"Why did you bring it here?" you ask curiously. 

Blue is the one to answer. "To burn it. Sometimes it seems like they attract each other, haven't you noticed?"

[animeshotsh]

In love with Control (Lucifer x OverlordMakima!Reader)

Summary: Lucifer its in love! Or is he?... Charlie cant help but be upset of this.

Warnings: HH violence - Manipulation - Cannibal mention - Insults - Cursing - Kind of soft tho - Grammmar mistakes -

PT2 of this

Charlie knows she should be upset that her dad just decided to spent more time in the Hotel because of a centrain Control Demon. Who could not care less about the kings crush over them, it was a good spawn to use whatsoever, so (Y/N) made sure to keep the fake facada towards him.

Of course they noticed that the princess of hell was not so happy about her fathers actions, while (Y/N) found it fun to watch, it was also a lose that needed to be repair.

"Princess" (Y/N) bowed towards Charlie who in reaponse tried to tell (Y/N) how that was not necesary, not used to the formality Charlie blushed as (Y/N) next words left their mouth.

"I apologies if this causes you discorfm, however you are the heir of hell and such i must act according to it"

"T-there is no need (Y/N)!! Really, we are all friends in here after all" Charlie responded taking (Y/N)'s hands "Im really happy you are giving this a try"

(Y/N) smiled at the princess, they could not understand how this was the pawn of Lucifer itself.

"Princess, I would like to apologie if the resent interactions between the king of hell and myself has made you uncomfortable. If you want I can call our meetings off"

Meeting were Lucifer showing up randomly, putting much effort in impressing the Control Demon.

Charlie was suprised. She had to admit that it did hurt her to see her father being now interested only because (Y/N) was present. But, did his father not deserve happynes too? Who was she to denied such a thing.

And you were so considerated. Oh! Charlie could tell you were going to be one of the firsts demons to be saved.

"I aprecciate your concer, but there is no need. Im happy to see my dad out of his office more and...and seeing him making a new friend. There is no reason for both of you to stop seeing each other"

The smallest of a smirk appear in your face.

"Thanks Princess you are very kind"

~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆

After the first time Lucifer saw you, he was hunted in the good sense by your eyes. These spiral eyes, it made him feel emotions he thought did not exist anymore.

Yet, anytime you two would meet up for tea or just for a walk, you would keep eye contact making the king of hell feel his soul being pulled out from his chest. His ideas and words would cramble as you would still talk about whatever topic you two were on.

"Your majesty, are you alright?" You asked pulling down the cup of tea. Lucifer was once again lost in your words and image.

"Eh?-oh yes! Sorry, ammm work has been in my mind lately" He lied taking a nervous sip, ignoring how hot the tea was.

"Oh? If its too much i can help" Pulling your hands under your chin you saw as how he gluped down some saliva, he was not expecting an offer like that.

What better chance to discover the secrets of hell if not by being besides the one who made it himself? This was a unique chance you were going to try and reach.

Lucifer had two ideas, one from where exactly he would find much work that needed you to be by his side- helping him of course, and two that it was an amazing oportunity to pass more time with you.

"Ummm, well I- I have it covered....from now"

Lucifer saw your reaction, your eyes being cast down and your shoulder defeating. He felt like he had just broken something.

However, that reaction was once again a calculated one. After spending so much time with Lucifer you got to see and understand what made the small king feel guilty and would make him fall down into your trap.

"B-but there are some really old books that needs to be clean and organized"

He cringed at his stupid "extra work" and waited to see your reaction or hear your words.

"Oh....so you are having a hard time with daily tasks" you said taking one hand to your face and thinking "I guess, its normal that even your majesty would face that type of thing. If you allow it would be an honor to help you sort these books"

One part of Lucifer was jumping while the other was completly frozen. You, someone whos name was whisper in fear in the circle, someone with so much power and intelligence, would do such a thing as organize books?

"I loved them when i was alive. Never was a big fan of Tvs or any electronic device, the touch of the paper and the different covers" You closed your eyes, adding drama to the moment, missing how Lucifer eyes almost turned in hearts.

"Well, its settled then. I can- i can call you so you can come over?..." Lucifer asked feeling like a young teen asking out his crush.

"At anytime your majesty"

"Please, Lucifer its fine" You were going to kill him if you continued to adress him as that.

~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆

Later that night at the Hotel the dark corridors where filled with silence as you walked to your room a neutral expression on your face.

"Well, i must say I havent quiet find someone who's tongue is as sharp as a blade" The static voice and laughts from a deer demon said making you stop to turn and look at him with a smile.

"Alastor, its a pleassure to see you tonight. Do you need something?"

"I must say, seeing the king of hell fall down over a sinner who only tells lies has its own charm Dear. Its a shame not everybody falls under your spell"

"Im not sure what you are talking about but..."

Grey chains appear behind you swiftly going for Alastor's head and pircing it.

"I still see you as nothing but a lowlife cannibal, who seeks nothing but entretaiment in others fails, when you are the very example of one. Being caught and shoot to death when being alive, and then having your soul being held by someone. To me all you are is a kid, crying for his mother, wishing to be in a different situation but finding yourself again at the bottom. And I know this because this is not the first time you try to corner me, but we both know how this ends....or well I do"

"Alastor, you wont remember seeing me here tonight. Whatever you overhear when I talked to Lucifer you wont remember it. You will go to your room, lock the door and sleep till tomorrow morning when Charlie ends needing you"

Alastor eyes devoid of emotions or any type of sign of being there. He just nodded his creepy smile not leaving. Slowly he turned back and went all the way to his room.

"Oh many times is he going to try get in my way" You murmured to yourself as you continued walking. "Well, i can always order him to kill the Hotel staff, im sure that would piss the princess really bad" You finally said with a sadistic smile as your eyes brighted in the dark.

[scribbling-dragon]

the very lonely giraffe

summary:

It’s stupid to begin to feel this kind of reluctance now. Stupid to feel the shaking of his hands, the trembling of his fingers as they line up along the string of his bow. Stupid, to begin to feel a swirl of regret deep in his gut, despite the layers of blood already lathering his hands – blood that he put on his own hands as he seized the lives of his friends in those very same hands. So maybe – maybe maybe maybe –that’s why he can’t resist the pull forwards. The urge to follow the bloody trail of who he and Pearl hunt over the grassy plains.

(ao3 link)

(3,750 words)

uh! yeah! that finale sure was something, and here's something that i decided to write after seeing this post by @stiffyck (hope you like it hdjsshjk <3)

(also hint hint nudge nudge reblogs are pretty funky <;3)

The grass swishes beneath his feet, the susurrus of his legs against the grass as he moves through it becoming familiar to his ears. He cuts through the tall grass easily, long legs eating up ground with each stride he makes. Legs that feel oddly shaky right now, trembling with each pulsing beat of his heart.

He can’t tell if it’s reluctance – some kind of fear that’s only just beginning to rear its head as his heart continues to thump louder and louder, beating in his ears as a mockery of war drums; something warning that every step brings him closer to the inevitability of winning, or dying trying.

It’s stupid to begin to feel this kind of reluctance now. Stupid to feel the shaking of his hands, the trembling of his fingers as they line up along the string of his bow. Stupid, to begin to feel a swirl of regret deep in his gut, despite the layers of blood already lathering his hands – blood that he put on his own hands as he seized the lives of his friends in those very same hands.

So maybe – maybe maybe maybe –that’s why he can’t resist the pull forwards. The urge to follow the bloody trail of who he and Pearl hunt over the grassy plains. He’s drawn forwards, pulled into the orbit of this roaring flame, like a moth that can’t quite resist the alluring light promising warmth and safety. But in this case, he is the moth and the flame is an assurance of violence.

He stumbles, drawing to an unsteady halt; slowing from a gallop to a gentle jog as Pearl pulls up beside him.

“Scar,” she huffs out, sounding far more strained than he expected her too. He looks over as she groans, doubling over and leaning against her knees. He’s worried, for a moment, that she’s been mortally wounded, somehow and he’s about to lose her to bleeding out, of all things. “Just- remember that your legs are longer than mine. Please.”

And oh. That makes so much more sense. He lets out a relieved breath that almost turns into a laugh, but he manages to staunch it at just a giggle. Of course she was struggling to keep up with him, he’s so much faster than her!

“I also have double the number of legs that you do,” he adds. He’s forced to lean over to the side, a little awkwardly, in order to close the distance between them. Being forced to shout up at him is probably not helping Pearl’s efforts to catch her breath. He still feels awkward, despite being forced to lean over like this the whole time in order to put himself a little more on their level – an awkwardness that he’s managed, so far, to blame most of his allyship (or lack of) issues on.

He still feels awkwardly far away from his friend – is friend even the right word for someone that could end up dying at his hands later? Is it the right word for someone that is his friend, but only outside of this game? Is it the right word for someone that is only friends with him right now because they are all the other has left? – widening the space between his legs in order to lower himself that tiny bit more.

He would consider sitting down at any other time, folding the four gangly legs beneath himself in order to better speak with Pearl. But that is not a weakness he’s looking to invite; standing up again would take far too long, leaving him vulnerable to a surprise attack before he manages to regain both his feet and his balance.

Gem and Scott are long gone by now, escaping like the slippery snakes that they are. Slithering away into the tall grass to lick their wounds and prepare their next attack.

“They're long gone,” he echoes his thoughts aloud, watching as Pearl straightens back up, apparently having managed to regain her breath. Or at least enough of it that she no longer feels the need to hunch over and just breathe. “We should regather ourselves, get whatever else we need.”

He turns around, hooves clopping against the baked earth, ready to do just that. Maybe slightly anxious to get moving, to do something. He only has a few supplies, but he’s sure that they can be spread between the two of them, albeit a little thinly…

“Scar,” he feels Pearl’s hand on his flank, the sensation almost making him jolt at its unfamiliarity. He manages to reign the reaction in and pauses his steps instead, thoughts halting too as he looks back down at her. Pearl’s hand rests lightly over one of the larger blotches on his side. The brown of the fur is too dark to actually be brown, closer to black than the typical markings you would find on a giraffe.

He makes a questioning noise in the back of his throat when she doesn’t continue, but doesn’t pull her hand away either. She seems lost in thought, eyes searching his face, as though in consideration. Then, as though she’s been shocked, her eyes dart away, fastening onto a patch of bare ground just in front of her feet. “Look,” she breathes out slowly, raising her head to meet his eyes as he hunches down again, worried at her uncharacteristic solemnity, “Scar. At the end of the day, when we’ve finished off Scott, when all is said and done, I want you to kill me.”

He rears back, mouth moving before his brain can catch up- can even begin to comprehend what it is that Pearl is suggesting to him. For him to do. Her hand, a warm presence on his side, falls away as he backs up, leaving him feeling cold all over. Like someone’s just dumped a bucket of ice over his head.

“I'm not gonna kill you Pearl!” His voice may come out a bit more panicky than he intended, but he doesn’t care much – can’t find it in himself to care when his brain is struggling to process what it is that Pearl is wanting him to do – the decision she’s making on his behalf. His legs feel shakier than before, and he’s momentarily worried they won’t support him at all. “I’ve wronged you too many times recently,” he follows up with, a little quieter than before. A little sadder.

“I- Scar,” Pearl emphasises his name, as though that’s meant to mean something to him. Like it’s going to sway him to agree with her. He shakes his head stubbornly, gritting his jaw and preparing himself to argue further. She must realise this, as she stares up at him a moment longer before sighing, shoulders drooping. “Whatever you say.”

“You can’t just say something like that to me,” he laughs, even though it feels strained, as though it might crack his chest apart from the sorrow behind it, barely contained within his ribcage. “My poor heart just can’t cope!” he sings, aware that he’s being over the top, that he’s overdoing it all. Pearl still cracks a grin, though.

Maybe she can sense what he’s doing with his words, with the way he gestures too widely and smiles even wider, steering her back towards the remnants of his base, to root through the half-exploded chests and hope that the items inside aren’t burnt to a crisp.

They don’t even make it past the Secret Keeper.

Pearl’s the one that stops him, throwing an arm out in front of him. He doesn’t notice it, only registering the blockade when his front legs bump up against her arm, halting and looking down at her. Maybe he should work on being more aware of his surroundings, maybe he should have been paying a little more attention in order to keep an eye out for the people actively hunting them down.

Gem’s eyes gleam as she stares over at them, stood on higher ground than Scott. His head is bowed before her. Gem’s lips move quickly, but they're too far away to hear what they're talking about. Gem doesn’t look at them for longer than a few seconds, but it’s enough to pin him in place, keep him rooted to the spot despite how easy it would be line up a shot and take Scott’s life right that moment.

There’s a flash of blue – a sword drawn, are they turning on each other? – and then the unmistakable sound of flesh being parted forcefully. He feels a little sick as he watches the sword poke out Scott’s back, a little to the left of his spine.

His jacket quickly soaks through with blood, darkening as it continues to pour. Scott, brave man, doesn’t make a single sound, simple collapses where he stands. It leaves Gem scrambling to pull him into her arms, dragging the sword back out of his chest.

He feels like he’s intruding on a quiet, private moment – both of them are, really.

Gem doesn’t look at them once. He feels his fingers twitch over the string of his both, an arrow balanced loosely against it. He could line it up, take Gem out while she grieves over her friend, her ally, the one she’s put to death herself.

He doesn’t, finger continuing to twitch as he goes back and forth between drawing his bow at all.

An explosion echoes overhead, reaching every corner of the server. As though there is anyone left beside the three of them, gathered in this small corner of the world. The explosion echoes far and wide, as though there are more people to hear it than just them.

“Oh,” Pearl says beside him, the sound of the explosion still ringing in his ears, the blood on Gem’s front not fading. “He…gave her the kill. Gave her that small reprieve.”

He feels his mouth go dry at the discovery, watching as Gem looks up at them, away from where Scott had lain previously, face splattered with gore that might belong to her enemies, but could also belong to her allies – to Scott. He can’t see her expression properly from this distance, as she disappears too quickly for him to try and see it any better.

He doesn’t look at Pearl, ignores the way he can feel her looking up at him, imploring him to take that kill too. To go into that final fight with his wounds stinging a little less, his energy slightly replenished.

His legs continue to shake, and he can’t lie to himself – he’s long past lying to himself, except about the little things, not big things like this – and say that the idea isn’t tempting. Cannot say the thought wouldn’t sway him slightly if he were anywhere else. If it were anyone other than a friend beside him; if it were an ally of convenience rather than someone he cares for.

Call him selfish, maybe, but he wants someone beside him in these last moments. Doesn’t want to be the one to cut down his one friend – one remaining friend, he had a few in the hours before this, only had friends as everything went to hell around them – when they could charge against Gem together. She’s scraped and beaten, the same as both of them despite the small boon Scott granted her. But there is two of them and only one of them. Two of them, when she is used to having two others at her back, ready to support her when she needs to fall back.

He steps forward, attempting to appear confident. He can only hope Pearl doesn’t notice his shaking, the way his legs tremble like leaves in a breeze and the discomforted swish of his tail.

He gives a small laugh, hoping that it might bolster his confidence. Make him feel a little less sick to his stomach. The feeling only worsens, bile rising in the back of his throat as he speaks, “Let’s go put her out of her misery, yeah? Maybe she wants to join her friends!”

Pearl makes a small noise, one that could either be an agreement or a hesitance. Scar ignores it, continuing to step forward, before he's lightly jogging, covering the distance quickly. He’s worried his legs will get tangled up amongst themselves, feeling as shaky and ungainly as a newborn calf.

He barely notices Pearl beside him, feeling so tall, so far away from the ground and the rest of the world that goes on around him. Oddly separate, even as Gem perks up, readying herself and her sword when they approach, when they corner her beside the Secret Keeper.

He draws his bow first, dancing out the way carefully as Gem goes for the legs first. Smart move, one he’d probably use in her place – take out his legs and he won’t be able to run anymore, won’t be able to go anywhere.

Pearl crashes against her with a scraping of steel and apologies, the two of them apologising for each clash of blades they have with each other. Apologising for every scrape of steel and every nick of skin. Pearl shoves Gem back, away from the tangling twist of limbs and swords, enough for Scar to line up his shot and take it.

Gem hisses, staggering back as the arrow pierces her shoulder, going straight to the bone.

She turns her eyes back to him, something furious flashing in the depths of her red eyes. Something born of desperation and fear, something that only rolls about once someone believes they are cornered. A frightened animal lashing out despite being on its last legs.

She may be going down, her eyes seem to promise, but she’ll be damned if she doesn’t take at least one of them with her.

He has to properly leap back when Gem lunges at him, batting Pearl aside easily as she chases him. His hooves make deep grooves in the dirt as he attempts to escape the blow, taking it on his side rather than straight through him.

He still winces at the sting, kicking at her and shoving her further backwards. He can’t draw his sword – there’s no point in drawing that weapon when he won’t even be able to reach her. He shoots off another arrow, one easily dodged at such close range.

He startles as Pearl barrels into Gem with a shout, the two tumbling over the ground, more like a pair of wildcats fighting as they claw at each other. He watches Pearl rip through half of Gem’s face, fingers curled into claws.

It makes Gem cry out furiously, throwing her head upwards and goring Pearl across the face with her antlers. Pearl falls back, grasping at her face as something – Scar doesn’t even know what, stood on the sidelines like a fool – begins to bleed profusely.

Gem spins on him, and charges with a cry.

He doesn’t expect the arrow to be what does her in. Doesn’t expect her to die to his hands at all. He’d been stood there, aware that he was probably about to watch two of his friends rip each other apart in the name of a game.

He shoots it with shaking hands, a last-ditch effort to not die at this moment, at this crucial point in time. Still grasping for that final win, despite how firmly out of reach it really is.

It sinks into Gem’s chest with an awful, solid sounding thunk.

The sound alone makes him sick, tears already beginning to bead in his eyes, shaking his head as he backs up, raising his hands in defence. He doesn’t even notice the bow slipping from his fingers, doesn’t notice the way his hoof crushes it beneath him, grinds it into the ground.

Gem glances down, as though surprised at the arrow sticking out of her chest too, looking back up as the explosion sounds and she’s struck down. The lightning wipes her away, as though she was never there in the first place.

“Pearl!” he calls, turning in a circle as he looks for her. She’s nowhere nearby, explosion continuing to ring longer in his ears than it probably should – still echoing through the air around him, crackling with electricity.

Maybe she’s down in the ravine nearby, he tells himself. He leans over the edge exaggeratedly, looking for her. She’s not there, he knows that. She’s probably somewhere behind him, lining up a shot at the back of his head.

He’ll let her take it – she deserves it far more than he does. She’s done far more in this than he has, been far nicer to him than he really deserves.

He lowers himself to the ground properly when the shot fails to come, settling himself at the edge. He won’t be moving anywhere quickly now, and Pearl will know that. Will shoot him now, now that her arrows will find their target; there’s no risk of her missing and startling him anymore.

And yet, the arrow fails to come, still.

The air seems to sigh around him, breeze stirring the grass he sits in. It brushes over his face gently, like the cradling, careful touch of a loved one.

“Pearl, I'm coming for you!” He heaves himself to his feet, wobbling precariously on the edge of that ravine. And, oh, Gem cut him a little deeper than he realised, blood sluicing off his fur and down to the ground. It patters like a morbid rainfall over the grass there. He turns, a little unsteadily, and prays he doesn’t topple into the ravine like a fool. “Where’d you go?” he calls out again, “I'm gonna getcha!”

She’s dead, Scar, the heavens sigh. You’ve won.

The heavens seem to have a suspiciously Grian-like voice, echoing down at him as though the man is speaking a thousand times over, each repetition layering itself over the previous until it reaches the echoing crescendo that has him cringing slightly.

“What?” he laughs. “C’mon, don't mess with me like that!” No response comes, even when he looks around, waiting for Pearl to emerge from whatever hiding spot she’s found herself and to declare the final showdown between the two of them.

“Oh, c’mon,” he murmurs, more to himself than anything else. Maybe it’s a last, desperate plea for Pearl to jump out at him. Maybe it’s a struggle to accept what’s being shoved in his face. Pearl doesn’t hesitate, not even over hard decisions. “How’d that happen, huh? How’d the guy with no friends win?”

The air kicks up around him a little, pushing him in the direction of the Secret Keeper.

“I don't even have my book anymore,” he calls out to no-one. The silence responds as silence often does: not at all. He sighs, and begins the short yet long trek towards the Secret Keeper. “How am I even meant to hand in a task without a book,” he grumbles.

He can feel the tears in the corners of his eyes, can feel the way they threaten to spill over as the silence presses in around him.

His hooves echo awkwardly against the stone as he walks up to the Secret Keeper, looming over him ominously. “Uh, hey there,” he greets, as though the stone might respond if he tries hard enough. “I don't actually have my book!” He laughs again, shaking with both residual adrenaline and the knowledge of what’s to come. He’s watched all the previous winners, bar one, be struck down by the powers that be. He’s sure his own death will be no different. “Never really thought I’d get this far,” he adds, a small, quiet afterthought.

He leans down, the distance between him and the button nigh insurmountable. It clicks beneath his fingers gently, bouncing back up as he pulls his hand away.

He takes a step back, watching as the Secret Keeper draws power towards itself, coalescing into a bright white symbol over the hooded face. He glances back as the tension builds, half expecting to see all his friends gathered there, watching with anticipation to see what rewards he’ll gain.

There’s nothing there.

Empty space where someone once stood. Empty air where laughter once echoed. He’d even rather a chant of fail fail fail to the silence, pressing in around him.

There’s a small thump, and he turns back around. A book lies at his feet, even further from him than the button. It looks tiny, that far below him. The leather-bound book stares up at him, insignificant in the face of the last few hours.

He picks it up anyway, blood smearing over its front cover.

Curiosity drives him to flick it open, blood staining the white paper a deep crimson, blooming across the pages. Like he’s pressed for too long with a quill and the ink has begun to bleed.

Win Secret Life

It stares back at him. Mocking in its simplicity.

“Thank you!” He responds, “I didn’t have a book to complete it with, did I? Well, I have one now!”

He presses the button, book in hand, feeling the weight evaporate alongside it. He turns his face upwards, ready and waiting for the lightning to strike him down too, to claim its last victim. He closes his eyes, not exactly willing to see his death plummeting towards him.

There’s a small thump as something small lands on the ground, just in front of his hooves.

No, he thinks, and looks back down anyway.

This, it seems, is what does his shaking legs in. they give beneath him, folding as he crumples like wet paper. The book continues to sit there, taunting in its smugness. It has no face to grin with, but Scar can feel the disgustingly pleased aura radiating off of it anyway.

“So this is my reward,” he tells the book. “Thanks, I guess.”

His words are empty, devoid of any humour of actual thankfulness. As dead as the server around him.

Only bloodstained grass and the dried blood clumping beneath his nails remains of his friends. And yet he stays, he remains.

The air remains still, not even that gentle touch returning to promise him everything will be alright. They would be empty words, empty promises, but he’d prefer them to this.

“Aren’t you going to kill me?” he asks.

The Secret Keeper stares down at him, silent.

He’s not sure why he expected a response from it, really. It’s lifeless stone, as dead as the server around him.

[quinloki]

What do you think the punishment for willingly going with teach is when they’re hunted down, caught and brought back to the moby dick?

Its getting me thinking, it would definitely be a lot greater because someone almost died

Would thatch be the main one dishing it out? (Pun intended)

Oh Nonnie wants me to go dark dark, huh?

Cw: dark themes, sensory deprivation, gas lighting, mentions of amputation and torture as possibilities, referring to reader as a toy or thing,

I feel like there would be a lot of depravation - and Thatch would definitely be the one who would decide when it was over, considering his near death experience.

I feel like you’d be isolated, some small interior room with no windows, no clothes. You get food when they give it to you, and maybe a bucket.

The irony being it wouldn’t be all that different from being consumed by Teach’s Devil fruit power.

If they do let you out of the room, your senses are still bound - blind folds, ear plugs, hands and feet bound, etc. you still need sun and exercise and such, it’s a punishment not an execution.

But you lose all rights for a while. No one will speak to you. No matter what you say or how you beg or apologize it won’t matter. There’s no safe word to spare you, no apology you can offer.

Once you’re near to breaking from it all, the binds will come off. They’ll have a conversation with you, tell you how they forgive you, how good you did enduring your punishment, how they know you’ll never abandoned them like that again.

And you agree.

The next few days you’re tangled up in all of them until you pass out. You’re sure things don’t end at that point, you’re always clean and bandaged the next day, if not sore to your bones. It’s only when Marco’s powers can’t quite heal you that they start to let you truly rest.

Now, admittedly, I can see punishments being far worse - actual torture, possible mutilation, branding, even amputation (not gonna run away without legs, no matter what you promise, etc.) but I personally don’t see any of them being *that* kind of yandere or dark.

Honestly, they’re just too powerful to feel a need to go to such an extreme. Izou and Marco are too strategic to let someone push them to that point. Thatch probably wants his sweet little doll completely unmarred as well. They wouldn’t risk anything Marco couldn’t heal, and gratefully his healing for others is limited.

Yandere Doffy, or Teach too. Buggy even. I can see them being that kind of twisted. (Doffy promises you won’t miss your legs, he can string you along so easily.)

Crocodile… nah, he’s too much of a planner and a controller. He doesn’t like breaking his things either.

Yandere Akainu would be terrifying. That’s a real body horror story if ever there was one. Yandere Shanks would only be less extreme cause that observation haki of his gives him so much control.

Yandere Kid could get ugly - he doesn’t mind breaking his things. I just think he puts effort into avoiding it because it feels like he did something wrong if he’s forced to break a toy.

[uptondixon]

Daryl & Daugther!Reader - Quarry Era II

Had this in my drafts for ages. I started writing and never finished, but I decided to post anyway. Thank you for all the love on Part 1! I'm sorry I'm not much of a writer to keep this storyline going :( Words: 1591 Warnings: Nightmares Gif not mine Chapter song is Fix You by Coldplay

Part I

"And the tears come streaming down your face, when you lose something you can't replace."

It's been a while since the three of them started the walk back to camp, which was proving to be especially hard for the girl. After the adrenaline went off, the pain on her feet and legs were becoming almost unbearable. With each step she got slower and felt weaker. A headache making its way over her head, probably a mix of pain, hunger and lack of sleep.

Before heading back to camp Daryl offered her water, which she accepted desperately. Even though she was happy the thirst was over, her growling stomach didn't let her forget the days without anything to eat. She didn't mention that, already thankful for the water. However, the girl's skinny body gave Daryl an idea of how hungry she must be.

Daryl and Merle didn't hunt anything, both too focused on the deer, so he made a mental note to feed her as soon as they got to camp. Daryl also tried to take a better look at her wounds, but she didn't let him. He didn't push and decided this was a job for Lori or Carol. They were the mothers of the group and the girl would feel safe with them, he thought.

"She's slowing us down man, if we don't speed up we're going to lose sunlight. This girl is like a damn walker bait. Hell, I can smell her blood from here." Merle complained again.

"I get it Merle! Stop whining alrigh?" Daryl said before approaching the kid. 

She had been trailing behind them the whole time, never sparing them a glance and looking almost ready to bolt in the opposite direction at any moment. All of a sudden, Daryl realized that they didn't know her name.

"What's yer name kid?" She looked up at him with wide eyes.

"Y/n." She said, voice almost a whisper.

"Alrigh', Y/n. Look, someone has to check yer wounds and for that we need to get to the camp but ya can barely walk…" Y/n knew he was right. She was scared to let him do anything with her wounds, afraid it would make it hurt even more. But the girl knew that it would only get worse if they didn't get there faster.

"What if I carry ya?" Daryl proposed. "We'll get to the folks faster and everything's gonna be okay." Daryl looked at her expectantly, while Merle was still mumbling some nonsense he chose to again ignore.

Y/n pounded for a moment. She didn't know this guy, even though he seemed to be making an effort to at least make her feel less scared. The same couldn't be said about the other guy, his brother. Even with Daryl's effort, she wasn't sure if trusting him was the right decision. However, it's not like she had any other choice at the moment.

Y/n looked up at Daryl and nodded her head. He handed his crossbow to Merle and picked the girl up. She felt so light and Daryl couldn't help but wonder how long she was alone out there, without food and water.

Y/n wrapped one of her arms around Daryl's neck, looking for something to hold on to. It was weird, how she didn't even know this man but felt safe in his arms. After being alone for months, she really wanted to believe someone good was going to help her.

Daryl arranged the girl in his arms and resumed their walking, Merle leading the way with Daryl's crossbow, aware of any danger.

They arrived at the camp a couple hours later and Daryl came in calling for the first person he saw, which in that case was Lori. "Daryl, oh my god??? Who is that?"

Daryl immediately felt Y/n's arms wrap harder around him. "It's fine kid, don't worry."

"We found her in the woods, alone and hurt."

Minutes later, the whole camp was reunited outside the RV while Lori and Carol were inside with Y/n. The girl felt more at ease with them, like Daryl imagined. But she was still unsure about everything and everyone.

After they treated her wounds and helped her clean up, Daryl brought some of the squirrel from his last hunt along with more food from the camp. Being clean and fed, it was like Y/n could finally think straight again.

Yours later, everyone started to retreat to their tents for the night. Inside the RV, Y/n tried to stay awake, her brain still on alert for some reason. But after a while her body started to give up and she fell asleep to the sounds of the dying conversation outside.

“It will be okay my baby, just run and don’t look back, okay?”

“But mom, what about you?”

“I’ll be right behind you, go!” The little girl ran, but she couldn't help looking back. However, when she did, it made sense why her mother told her not to.

Screams, that’s what Daryl woke up to. He jumped out of his tent and saw Shane, Glenn and Dale outside the RV. “What the hell happened?”

“It 's Y/n.” Shane said “Lori is-” As if on cue, Lori leaves the RV. And to everyone's surprise, she smiled at Daryl.

“She’s asking for you, Daryl.” Daryl looked at Lori as if she had grown another head but entered the RV anyway.

“Hey kid, what's up?” Y/n was sitting in bed, death grip on the blanket and scared look on her face.

“I miss my mom” Daryl didn't know what to say, he didn't understand why she would want him there of all people. “Could you stay here until I fall back asleep?”

To be honest, Y/n didn't want to sleep, not if that meant another nightmare, but her body didn't give her any choice. Daryl saved her, his presence made her feel safe, so maybe he could help the bad dreams go away. Daryl was still confused, but he simply sat down in the chair close to the door and nodded his head, watching as the girl laid down, closing her eyes and falling asleep once again.

The first week went by smoothly, Y/n couldn't think about anything other than sleep. Her body begging for rest in order to heal. She didn't talk much, still overwhelmed with the new environment and everything that happened, but slowly feeling more at ease with everyone. Amy was the one to bring her food the days she stayed in bed. Lori or Carol would brush her long hair after she washed up. Glenn and Dale would make her laugh with silly jokes. Andrea and Jacqui would help change her bandages. Daryl would always check on her at the end of the day. He didn't say much, only put his head inside the RV, saw her asleep and then went to his tent.

The second week was better, she was stronger and more active. However, the nightmares still hunted her at night. Since Y/n got in the camp, Carl and Sophia were anxious to talk with her. But she was weak and scared so the adults held them back. When she started feeling better, spending her days sitting in the staircase of the RV and watching the camp, Carl approached her. With everything that happened Y/n didn't really had the time to think about the other kids at camp. She knew Sophia was Carol's daugther and Carl was Lori's, but they never talked and she suddently felt nervous. It's been ages since she last talked with someone her age.

"Hi, I'm Carl. You're Y/n, right?"

"Yeah.." Y/n smiled awkwardly.

"Shane's going to teach me how to grab frogs, you wanna come too?"

Y/n apreciated the invitation but she couldn't help but ask "Why would you want to grab frogs?"

Carl seemed like he wasn't expecting the question but answered anyway "Well, it's just funny, they jump so high trying to run away" he said with a little laugh "But we release them right after, Shane says they probably taste really bad to eat."

Y/n was the one ot laugh this time, for sure she wouldn't want to eat a frog.

"Okay, it seems fun" Y/n said looking at the boy in front of her.

"Yes! It's going to be really fun, I'll tell Shane you're coming" Y/n laughed again seeing the boy excitement, she couldn't help but feel it too. After the last stressful weeks, it was good to have some distraction.

Y/n met Sophia a couple nights after her frong hunt with Carl and Shane. The camp was having dinner and since she started feeling better, she started to have dinner outside with the others. The first night she went straight to Daryl, he and Merle sitting around a fire further from the main camp. In the short time Y/n was there she could notice how they differed from the rest of the camp. Her, as well, felt unsure, not of Daryl but his brother. The first night she left the RV and went to Daryl, Merle looked at her they same way he looked at her back in the woods. Like she was an walker bait. Daryl didn't showed much affection towards her, at least not in clear eyes. But he silently made sure she was fed and safe every single day, most of the others from the camp would not notice most of the time, but he did and Y/n knew it.

Taglist: @justmare

[rootsofdread]

YAHHH another scientist surv thing!!

How about that -- Blight, Singularity and Dredge with a scientist surv, who strives to understand what they are and how they work no matter the consequences??? Following them around, tinkering in their things, asking around, trying to start a personal conversation, and all that, ykyk

Who tf needs to survive when there's shit to discover?

🦞 mmmmmonsterkillers

FIRST SINGO REQUEST!!! i was very happy to fill this out because i love writing jerk ass meanieheads lol <3333

Talbot Grimes / The Blight:

Talbot has seen you quietly taking notes from afar. He wasn’t sure how you’d gotten your hands on a pen and a pad, but he was sure you were after the formula for his serum. He believed this and specifically hunted you down for quite a while, finding you following him around only adding credence to his theory, until he overheard you asking one of your teammates about him. 

They were pretty mundane, yet probing questions; who was he before, what sort of work he did, what did they think happened back then? Then, he wasn’t sure what to think. Sure, you still could’ve been after something of his…but those questions felt much more specific. Aimed at his person, rather than his work. He had to think about this…

He started to notice you hanging around him more and more often. He still wasn’t exactly sure what your angle was, what exactly you were trying to find out, but he became more comfortable thinking you were more interested in him. You didn’t seem to care about his work, only your own, and whatever he was doing at the time. As long as you’re not after the formula for his serum, he doesn’t think he has to be bothered by you, and he doesn’t ask questions. He can respect a fellow scientist’s work. Perhaps, especially, if that scientist is interested in him…

The Dredge:

Dredge was always curious as to why you were so interested in it. Well, it figured the reason why was probably because of the way it…looks. But no one had been so persistent before, nor had anyone else tried to rifle through the things it had collected…it was very confused about your motives, to say the least. But it appreciated having the company, you could tell it was happy whenever it knew you were following it around.

Though it tended to follow you around, too, sort of like a lost puppy; there were times it had lost you, and it often found you asking your teammates about it. Like what exactly it was, and what does it do with the people it captures? — At first, it had assumed you were asking around because you were scared of it. Maybe it had been wrong, you didn’t want to be friends…you were just keeping an eye on it out of fear. But as it kept listening to you asking more and more questions (not exactly getting answers, though), it realized you were just interested in its life and what it was. It lit up and jumped out of the locker at you.

It loves having a survivor hanging around that actually was interested in it. Someone that wanted to know more about it…! It’s often very exciting and loves demonstrating its powers to you, often teleporting in front of you or letting you watch it absorb someone into its fog. It can’t communicate very well, so it hopes that its efforts provide enough results for you.

HUX-A7-13 / The Singularity:

Right from the get-go, HUX really doesn’t appreciate having a puny little worm following him around and trying to stick their nose into his work. Something as insignificant as you wouldn’t even be able to comprehend his work, after all — so what do you think you’re doing!? He always catches you spying on him from afar, and every time he does, he sets off after you immediately. Perhaps if you’re so interested in what he’s doing, you’d like to experience it first-hand!

He has frequently heard you trying to discuss him with your teammates. He is always quick to put a stop to it, of course, but the last few times he’s decided to let you talk, and he’s listened quietly. He’s been surprised to hear you asking your teammates about…himself. What is he made out of, who made him, what happened to him. What were all these questions for…?

He decided to confront you about it. A direct approach is always strategically appropriate for getting what you desire. He walked up behind you, pulled you up the collar of your shirt and asked you what exactly you’re doing asking about him. After you explain that you just want to know what and who he is, he promptly puts you back down on the ground. He isn’t sure how to react, and he just kind of twitches around for a moment, but he gives you a quick — almost approving — glance before leaving to terrorize someone else. It would seem you’ve gotten through to his cold, synthetic heart.

[funsize-cenobites]

Mihawk-Brain-Eating-Syndrome has seized me with such a gorilla grip I am losing my fucking mind so I guess we're doing this.

The post that started this whole train of thought came from @manofbeskar who's Mihawk thoughts, Mishanks heartwrenchers, and absolutely gorgeous art are so inspiring I feel chewing-on-the-doorframe feral every time I check their blog.

So.. thoughts of the day that Im just tossing into the void to get it out of me because otherwise it will fester inside me and make me ill:

Mihawk has a complicated relationship with vivre cards. Despite his best efforts to keep the world and everyone in it at arm and Yoru length he does manage to keep collecting bits of them though.

Not many nowadays of course, its a rather intimate affair after all; to have someone give you a literal piece of their life so that you may always find them no matter where in the wide seas you may be and that you'll be the first to know should they leave that world entirely. Far too intimate. It feels too obvious, too heavy handed, too much like handing him your heart and asking him to carry it. Such a thing is heavier than any blade and all the bloody deeds he can never truly wipe from the steel.

Its gentle and vulnerable and human, all the things hes convinced he can play at but never truly be again.

But I imagine at the start of his journey he was a touch more open, perhaps accepting his first from a mentor as a parting of ways. Though he didn't yet have one of his own to offer in return. Strange how a simple piece of card in his palm could feel like an open door. Always there, inviting him home. Always there, until it wasn't.

He will never forget the first time he felt one burning away into nothing in his hands. It went up so quick.. he had no idea it could take less than a minute to burn a home.

Then perhaps he found a crew, a more tangible place to nest and he suddenly had more vivre cards than he could tuck away on his person in a timely manner. Perhaps it became a ritual of sorts each morning, a part of his routine to tuck each one away. The captain, vice captain, and the rest of the specialists lining the inner band of his hat while the rest of the crew were individually squirreled away. A meditation, grounding and quiet. He would use it to remind himself of his role as the crew's swordsman, as their protector.

How could he forget the sharp sear of each individual card burning away, stuck close to his skin by waterlogged clothing as he dragged himself ashore gasping and choking on sea and blood and smoke. Having been left by marines that assumed he would drown because- perhaps pointed out by one that had deceived him, made Mihawk believe they were his friend to be led back to his family:

"No freak like that could exist without having eaten the devil's fruit."

How could he forget the embers escaping, dancing in the evening gloam like fireflies swarming around him? There were so many.. now there are none and gods he's been so empty since. How could such a small piece of paper take so much of him? To kill a man with a blade, even butchering him inelegantly, would be a greater mercy so long as he was dead.

Nowadays Mihawk knows better. Knows better than to trust or be trusted. That blades might chip and tarnish but they dont burn, never completely.

Yoru hums and sings in his hands as he wields her and she does not feel like home.. but she feels solid and eternal and cold. She will never burn. Her weight is bearable.

Impersonal.

Professional.

Yoru makes death an art in his hands. She is the brush not the paper, spattering fireflies over a night sky.

. . .

For years after, he kept far from others. Deciding to never get so close to anyone ever again. Safe in the knowledge he would never feel the burning sting of loss nor the cold cut of betrayal so acutely. Trust was a double edged blade, perhaps the only one he truly couldn't handle.

He was no protector.. so he wouldn't try to be.

Instead Mihawk would hunt. Chasing the marines mercilessly. Cutting a bloody path through their ranks and burning their fucking fortresses to the ground. At first they spoke of him as an insane lone swordsman, then a one man army, then a monster, a demon. The relentless yellow eyed freak that stalked the seas and nightmares of future vice admirals.

He systematically killed all those that harmed him. A shadow over the shore, a rogue wave swallowing their ships, a curse of vengeance come to reap. He destroyed all the records of his crew that he could get his hands on. If he must be cursed to slowly forget them over time, then the world government didnt deserve their memory either.

And so on it went for a time. Long enough for the hunt to lose its luster. Slaughtering sheep by the herd in search of a rare wolf.

Mihawk had almost forcibly forgotten about Vivre cards as a concept. His own remained untouched, never moving from where he hid it. He had no friends, no family, no nakama. Only a dwindling list of worthy foes to test himself against.

Until the day the king of pirates died. Until their golden age truly began.

Until he met Shanks, who held out a hand and asked him to step out of the monochrome past and into a thousand possible vibrant futures. Ones of lush reds and glittering golds, of polished onyx black and the purest, deepest blue.

.

"Here," Shanks said suddenly one night, holding out a small scrap of paper. The both of them were perched atop the ruins of a high sea wall on some remote island, enjoying the cold breeze from the north after a hard fought duel.

Mihawk, for all his composure, blanched. "What is that?" He knew and he did not take it.

"What do you think it is? Its a piece of my card." He said it so simply. Like it barely occured to him how precious such a thing was. Shanks didn't drop his arm, even as the silence stretched out between them.

"No."

"Come on, Takanome- Dont be like that! We're nak--"

"Rivals." He cut the younger man off abruptly. His chest felt too hot and too tight, burning and burning and, "We are rivals, Akagami."

Shanks must've been pouting, he could hear it in his voice, "Even more reason for you to take it. We could duel every day if you could always find me~ Come on.. Please? I want you to have it."

"...."

Hawkeyes glanced at his best friend rival and immediately regretted it. Shank's face was always full of so much hope, so much faith in... something.. It made Mihawk's heart catch in his throat every time to see those big earnest eyes staring at him almost as if, for a moment, it was faith in him.

"I don't know if I can give you mine.." He murmured. Shanks smiled soft, a little sad, and infuriatingly understanding without needing to know anything.

"I dont need it. I know you'll always find me." He pressed his heart, his home the scrap into Mihawk's palm and closed the swordsman's fingers over it. "And if I need to find you.. I'll just ask the wind."

[btr-rewatch]

Big Time Rush Season 1, Episode 16: “Big Time Fever”

Highlights: Orange!James, Bongo!Logan, and Jennifer!Carlos

Also, some ramblings about each of the boys' various emotional dysfunctions.

I feel like this is one of those episodes that typically makes the list of people's favorites. Let's see if it's still as funny as I remember it being.

We begin at the Palm Woods pool. The guys are eager to beat the heat but discover the pool empty, save for Bitters, who is floating around happily. Why? He's put up a sign which reads, "Adult Swim No kids allowed"

Well, guess what. Our clever Kendall takes advantage of the lack of punctuation and creates his own loophole. He swiftly changes it to, "Adult swim? No, kids allowed!"

This is a scene I've always remembered, and it's one of my favorite Kendall moments in general. He's such a menace (affectionate). No rules can confine him.

As a quick little side note: can I just point out how dinky the pool actually is? For a place like the Palm Woods, home of the "future famous", it sure has a teeny tiny pool. It's like...the size of a regular backyard in ground pool, not something that would be at an upscale apartment complex. Just something that's always irrationally bugged me.

Camille comes over and says how great it is that Hollywood hasn't changed the guys, since the environment usually takes its toll on people after a few months. But Kendall, Carlos, and Logan are still the same lovable goofballs they've always been.

Oh, and then James shows up, and he's orange.

He's come down with a raging case of Hollywood Fever. Camille shares that Guitar Dude and The Jennifers met the same fate, becoming permanently altered by the "illness." Kendall decides it's nonsense and attempts to shut this whole business down right away.

"James, you're orange, and you look like a freak," he says. I love Kendall so much.

Unfortunately, the heartfelt, sensitive words have no effect on James, who thinks he looks great.

There's also a B plot going on involving Katie taking advantage of the heat wave by selling snow cones, but idk how much of that I'll cover. I don't remember if it's all that interesting. Guess we'll see as I keep watching.

Later on, at the studio, Kelly and Gustavo are reacting as expected to Orange!James.

Gustavo pulls them aside for a chat, telling them that the image he's going for with the band is NOT, "Three normal boys and a tangerine freak."

Tangerine Freak would be a good band name.

Gustavo orders Kendall, Carlos, and Logan to fix James before he replaces him.

After learning the tanning spray dissolves with water, the guys arm themselves with water guns and set out to hunt their orange friend down. Carlos goes to the pool, where he runs into The Jennifers, who are missing one member (she's gone to Iceland). Bereft without their friend, the remaining Jennifers note that Carlos is the right height to fill her role. So, yeah. Carlos is a Jennifer now.

Back in the lobby, Kendall and James engage in a Matrix-style battle in which James successfully dodges the water gun, and Kendall soaks everyone in the lobby.

Over at the park, Logan's own efforts to find and fix James are quickly thwarted when he has a brief conversation with Guitar Dude and is promptly sucked in by the alluring power of bongos.

Also, it's hilarious to me how easily Logan does a 180 personality-wise. He shows up with his water gun all serious, prepared to help turn James back to his normal, non-orange self, but Guitar Dude is all, "Hey, man, what's the point? Let James be orange if that's what he wants. How about you chill out and find Logan."

And that's all Logan needs.

Anyway, we return to the pool, where Carlos is having second thoughts about becoming a Jennifer. He claims he's too nice, to which the girls work to convince him being nice gets him walked all over. They tell him the only people who make it in Hollywood are the ruthless ones. This convinces Carlos that he should stick with them and become a "tiger shark."

After another disastrous recording session, Gustavo sees how serious the problem has become. He, Kelly, and Kendall decide to divide and conquer, but not before Gustavo yells at Kendall for not taking charge and being able to fix things.

Which like. Ok. Kendall's the most level-headed one, the leader, etc. And this is me reading too much into a kids show again, but this poor guy! It's not enough that Kendall personally puts the pressure on himself to be the Fixer of Everyone's Problems Always—he regularly has that pressure put on him from the people around him too.

When is it Kendall's turn to be taken care of? When does HE get to rest and not have to manage the lives and decisions of his family and friends?? Huh??? WHEN?

One by one, each of their plans fail. Kendall's attempt to lure Logan back to Normal-ville using math has no impact whatsoever, the therapist hired for James ends up a similar shade of orange, and Carlos resists Kelly's shopping cart slingshot with the help of the Jennifers. But! It should be noted that of the three boys, Carlos is the ONLY one who wavers. He really wants to join in on the fun, and if not for the Jennifers, he likely would have.

So, we've got James, who is masking his own feelings of insecurity and inadequacy by covering himself with orange tanning spray. Logan, who desperately needed permission to shed his anxious, uptight, genius status but swung way too far into hippie mode. And Carlos, who (deep down) feels ignored and "less than," and quickly fell into the world the Jennifers offered him: one of status and importance and leadership. Then there's Kendall, who has NOT fallen victim to Hollywood Fever because he's carefully constructed a very secure wall around himself that won't allow him to be anything but the strong, responsible "man in charge" that he's had to be since he was a child and his dad walked out.

Or, as Gustavo says, Kendall "has a normal brain, and his friends have the brain of a cricket."

Listen, Kendall is a lot of things, but normal isn't one of them.

Kendall firmly rejects Gustavo's offer to go solo and announces he's going to the ice rink to think things through. This is a lightbulb moment for Kelly, who realizes that Kendall's connection to his roots has been the factor that saved him. They decide to save Carlos, Logan, and James through the Power of a Snowball Fight.

Turns out, all three cricket-brains just needed to be pelted by some ice in order to shed their newfound personas.

And with that, all is set right with the world again.

This is one of the best episodes of the first season, though it does lend itself to additional questions. Was this a one-and-done battle with Hollywood Fever, or did the group have to face it any time homesickness reared its head? What about Guitar Dude and The Jennifers? Did anyone try to cure them? Did any of the boys find themselves mourning that brief period in time when they weren't "themselves"? Carlos and Logan especially! Because those feelings must have still been there. Carlos still has those feelings of being pushed to the side and forgotten about. Not being considered important. And Logan still needs an outlet for all the stress he deals with on a regular basis—the pressure of being the Smart One.

And James. Well, I don't quite know about James. There is a LOT going on there. Super confident facade, the whole pretty-boy thing going for him. Determined and passionate and full of himself. But he's not. He's scared, deep down. He doesn't know who he is if he's not the most talented or the coolest or the most handsome. Part of him wants to hide away under several layers of Cuda Mangerine Action Tan Spray. There's also, like...other stuff I wonder about with James, like his tumultuous upbringing—super controlling, always put-together, superficial mother and a father who (I think) ended up with a much younger woman? I might be making that up. But I do know that his parents had such a bitter divorce that they didn't even speak. James is also an only child! That is...a lot to deal with growing up, and I'm sure there was damage done.

Not to mention any additional hardships James had to deal with growing up as someone whose personality and interests often skewed from what one might consider "traditionally male." I'm sure he was protected as much as possible by his buds, but there might have been times bullies still made their way through—finding an easy target in the boy who was so into fashion and modeling and had dreams of being a pop star.

Anyway! I hope Mama Knight (who was completely absent from this ep) heard of the day's events and sat with each of the boys to have a heart-to-heart. They certainly all needed it.

[ollieofthebeholder]

And If Thou Wilt, Forget: a TMA Fanfic

Also on AO3 and my personal website

Chapter 1: Love, strong as Death, is dead

“…Statement ends.” Gertrude sighed and removed her glasses, massaging the bridge of her nose. “Well. That was a waste of time and effort. Promising at the start, but nothing to it. I think this one can go in its proper place.”

She tucked the useless pages back with their unsatisfying fiction back into the file and carried it over to one of the shelves. After a moment’s pause, she reached for a rather thick file, removed several pages from the middle, and tucked them into the false one before shelving it. That statement would do well to be spread out a bit. She took the last few pages out as well, moved the original file to another shelf, and went in search of somewhere to hide the end of the statement.

Hunters. They had their uses, of course, although there was little a Hunter could do that a liter of petrol and a good kitchen match couldn’t do just as well. It was one of the few points she and Adelard had seriously disagreed on—that and the impending emergence of the Extinction.

Gertrude paused and pressed a hand to her chest for just a moment. Contrary to outward appearances, carefully cultivated ones at that, she did mourn the loss of her assistants and allies alike. She just couldn’t afford to let it show. Caring and trust were weaknesses, ones that those she stood in opposition to would be keen to exploit. Not that there was much they could do now, but still, she owed it to Eric to keep his son alive. Or so she told herself.

But Adelard’s death still hurt. It was too raw, she told herself, too fresh a loss to have begun to heal over properly, so it was understandable that her memories of him were still a minefield, needing careful navigation to avoid them blowing up in her face. After all, it had been less than a month.

She missed him.

Gerard wasn’t the same. Among other things, she hadn’t fully brought him in on the truth; he was mostly concerned with Leitners and the man himself, someone she was even more careful to keep from him. And she knew he was only helping her out of a sense of obligation, really. She still hadn’t decided if he would help her take down the rituals—should she ask him—because he wanted to stop them or because he hoped it would pay off a debt she hadn’t bothered to talk him out of thinking he owed.

She probably ought to feel guilty about that.

With a sigh, she stuffed the file carelessly onto a shelf and turned to the door between the Archives and the rest of the Institute. She could do with a cup of tea. While she did have an electric kettle in her office, meaning she never had to interact with anyone else in the building if she didn’t particularly want to, it never hurt to check in with Rosie from time to time and see if anything unusual was going on with…Elias. Not that Rosie had the slightest idea what was actually going on, but she was nosy and Gertrude knew how to use nosy people to her advantage. She loved to gossip, had a habit of picking up information and either hugging it to herself or whispering it in choice ears, and tended to prattle on about seemingly inconsequential nonsense that nevertheless turned out to eventually have a kernel of extremely useful information in it. However clever Elias might be, or might think he was being, Rosie would often drop an innocuous comment about his movements or meetings that revealed startling depths.

She sensed it as soon as she emerged on ground level. Someone with a statement had crossed the invisible boundary that marked what, for lack of a better term, she thought of as her hunting range. Likely just someone walking past, but possibly a visitor actively approaching the Institute for one reason or another. Normally that would be her cue to go back downstairs until whoever it was came to her, departed on their own business, or passed by without stopping. However, the disappointment of the earlier statement was still keen and the hunger was sharp. On an impulse, she found herself veering towards the front door of the Institute without consciously commanding her feet to do so.

Just as she reached it, it swung open, flooding the little entrance hall with daylight. Standing on the threshold was a young man, older than she had been when she became Archivist, but still young—in his early thirties, if Gertrude was any judge. He was good-looking, with cerulean blue eyes and dark hair with auburn highlights, dressed in a crisp white dress shirt and somber black tie beneath a tailored heather tweed jacket, but what caught Gertrude’s attention was the faint pink tint to the whites of his eyes. Either he hadn’t been sleeping, or he’d been crying. Possibly both.

“Timothy Stoker?” she asked.

The young man’s eyes widened briefly, and then he made an attempt at a grin. “I guess you don’t get a lot of visitors here, huh? You must be Rosie Zampano.”

Gertrude mentally kicked herself for an idiot. Sloppy. She knew better than to address people she’d never met by their names before proper introductions were made. Fortunate for her that he had actually called ahead.

“This way, Mr. Stoker,” she said, without acknowledging his assertion.

He followed her docilely enough. They were halfway to the steps leading to the Archives when cold awareness swept over her, accompanied by a prickling on the back of her neck. A cultured voice called from towards the stairs. “Ah, Gertrude—”

“Busy, Elias,” Gertrude interrupted briskly. “I’ll be there when I have finished this discussion.” Without giving him a chance to respond, she hustled her inadvertent guest down the steps and into the Archives.

Stoker looked around as they entered, then, to her surprise, nodded grimly. “Manuscripts? Or research?”

“Statements, actually.” Gertrude studied Stoker with interest. “Encounters with the supernatural, that kind of thing. I imagine you know what is meant by that.”

Stoker shivered, but merely said, “You’re damn right I do.”

Gertrude hummed. “This way.”

She led Stoker into her office, gestured for him to take a seat, and reached for the tape recorder. “You don’t mind if I record this, do you?” she asked. It wasn’t really a question, especially as she’d apparently hit the appropriate button without even realizing.

“Uh…no?” Stoker frowned at her. “That’s…fine.”

“Excellent. Well then.” Gertrude set the recorder on the desk between them. “Statement of Timothy Stoker, regarding…?” She lifted her eyebrows at him, prompting him to continue.

“The disappearance of—of my brother, Danny,” Stoker said, his voice catching slightly.

Gertrude pretended not to notice. “Gertrude Robinson recording, fifth September, 2013.” She nodded. “Whenever you’re ready.”

“I don’t know that I’ll ever be ready, but…sure. Here goes nothing.” Stoker took a deep breath and began speaking.

Gertrude kept her eyes on his face as he spooled out the story. It was quite interesting, on a number of levels. The fact that Stoker was an older sibling who’d lost his younger sibling to one of the Fourteen was hardly unusual and merely fit into a pattern she’d noticed long ago; regardless of what specific fear they preyed upon, the terror of standing by helpless while a person you’d always sworn to protect was utterly destroyed by something too horrifying to comprehend that you couldn’t defend them from added an extra seasoning that They seemed to relish. What was unusual, though, was that Stoker, unlike most of the older siblings she’d heard or read statements from—at least the ones who had lost their siblings later in life—genuinely seemed to love his brother still rather than tolerate at best or even outright resent him.

On top of that was the statement itself. When Stoker first mentioned urban exploration, she expected it to be the Dark or the Buried, and she certainly knew Robert Smirke would be involved, but something…drew her in. And she certainly sat up and took notice when he mentioned the Covent Garden Theater.

A lead? At last?

Stoker’s voice cracked with emotion as he began describing the scene beneath the Royal Opera House, and that really caught her attention. For the most part, people’s emotions…didn’t precisely fade, but at least seemed to be placed on the back burner when they were giving their statements. Stoker wasn’t stammering and stuttering the way even the ones with genuine encounters often did when she wasn’t there to…influence them, but he was aware of what he was saying and feeling it in a way she hadn’t witnessed in a long time—not since the earliest days of her time as Archivist. He had a good grip on himself. She wouldn’t call it a resistance to the Eye, per se, but there was a strength to him she found intriguing.

“The next thing I remember was the cool night air on my face, as the opera house patrons pushed past me to get into the evening performance of Tosca,” Stoker concluded. “In my hands I held an old black and white circus flyer. It was written all over in Cyrillic, but in the bottom left corner was a certain clown’s face, leering out at me, billed as the guest performer. As I watched, it crumbled to ash, and floated away on the breeze.”

Gertrude felt a small pang of regret at that. She did not herself read Russian, but it still would have been nice to have the confirmation. “I don’t suppose you still have your brother’s drawings.”

“As a matter of fact, I do. Here.” To Gertrude’s surprise, Stoker reached into his suit jacket and withdrew a manila envelope. He extracted a few sheets of paper, flicked through them, and withdrew one, then handed it to her.

As he had said, it was a series of simple drawings of the same clown’s face. It was an amazingly skilled likeness, considering it had been done in darkness and distress with a cheap ballpoint pen. There was no mistaking it for anyone else.

“Do you know who this is?” she asked, not expecting a reply.

“Joseph Grimaldi,” Stoker replied unhesitatingly. “Didn’t take long to find a picture that matched up, once I knew what I was looking for.” He gave a short, bitter laugh. “Three weeks ago I would have said there was no way it could be the same one, even if the pictures were identical, but then again three weeks ago I’d have said there couldn’t be a stone theater underneath the Royal Opera House, or a monster that steals people’s skins. Compared to that, a zombie clown is almost mundane. Or ghost or whatever he is.”

"I’m not altogether certain myself,” Gertrude admitted. “It may not be Grimaldi at all, merely something wearing his face.”

“In the clown sense, or in the Appalachian folk horror sense?”

Gertrude blinked, momentarily startled. “I beg your pardon?”

Stoker met her eyes without flinching, which was rare enough these days. “There’s a legend in the Appalachian mountain region of the United States about a monster who lost—”

“I’m familiar with the legend of Skin Tom. What do you mean by ‘the clown sense’?” Gertrude interrupted.

“Oh. When you become a clown, you’re supposed to register your makeup so no other clown can copy it. Some might get passed down when a clown retires, maybe, but the name has to go with it. You wouldn’t catch a clown named, I don’t know, Bonzo wearing a face registered to Grimaldi.”

“You’ve done your research.”

Stoker shrugged. “The egg register is right here in London, and it’s open to the public. I figured it would be a starting place. It’s only really been a thing since the forties, but they do have a historical exhibit with a few of the really high profile faces, and when I went in, there he was. You know, minus the blood. From there it was just a matter of asking the right questions of the right people and they were telling me things they probably didn’t even realize they knew.”

Gertrude studied him sharply, but, no, as she’d rather suspected, he hadn’t been Marked by the Eye. Not yet, anyway. His ability to get people talking and get answers from seemingly innocuous questions and mundane responses was purely down to his charisma and social skills. He’d never be an Archivist, but he would make a remarkably able Assistant.

She caught that thought and suppressed it ruthlessly. No. Not after Emma’s betrayal. She couldn’t trust like that again…

“Well. Thank you for your time,” she said instead. “If you’ll leave your name and contact information, I will be certain to let you know if anything comes of it.”

Stoker huffed out what might have been a very soft, bitter laugh and may have just been an attempt to clear his throat as he handed over the remainder of the papers he had pulled from the envelope. “No offense, and this is probably going to hurt my chances, but this is the strangest job interview I’ve ever had in my life.”

Gertrude froze. She looked down at the papers Stoker had just handed her and realized that she was holding his CV. He hadn’t come to the Institute looking to make a statement—he’d come looking for a job.

The correct thing to do would be to take this upstairs to Rosie and get her to match it with an open position. At the very least, she should ask what department Stoker had meant to interview with. Actually, the correct thing to do would be to lie to this young man and then set fire to his CV as soon as he was out of the Institute, because if he stayed here, he was going to get killed.

On the other hand…

On the other hand, she thought, Elias had clearly been expecting him, and even if she burnt the CV it wasn’t without the realm of possibility that he would call Stoker personally to offer him a job—to trap him in the Institute. If he was in one of the other departments, he wouldn’t know what was going on, and Gertrude wouldn’t be able to warn him thoroughly—she’d been trying with Sasha, and a bit with Rosie, and neither of them really seemed to get it. And with the Stranger having Marked him this deeply, his next encounter would be fatal if he didn’t have some form of protection.

She shouldn’t care. But she did. And she could use the help.

“We tend to do things differently here at the Institute,” she said slowly. She laid down the papers and met his eyes levelly. “Why do you want to work here, Mr. Stoker?”

“Because I want answers,” Stoker answered promptly. “I want to know what it is that killed my brother, and I want to know how to get revenge on it. The Magnus Institute is the only place I might get those answers, and I’m not going to find them just poking around on my own, am I?”

“Not likely,” Gertrude agreed. “This is a salaried position, not hourly, and there would be times I would need your assistance outside what are normally thought of as ‘business hours’. I expect my instructions to be carried out, even if the reasoning behind them seems obscure or unhelpful; I know what I’m doing and I do not give orders lightly. And most importantly, Mr. Stoker, if you accept this position, you will not be able to quit. An appointment to the Archives is an appointment for life. Do you understand me?”

Stoker shrugged and nodded. “Quite frankly, Ms. Robinson, what have I got left to lose?”

Gertrude knew that feeling, far too well. “Well then, Mr. Stoker—”

“Tim. Please.”

“Tim, then.” Gertrude stood and held out her hand. Stoker—Tim—rose and shook it. “Welcome to the Magnus Institute.”

[lets-try-some-writing]

prime going ballistic and allying himself with the enemy to get his kids back for 500 please!

if you need time to do this its fine take as long as you want-

Everyone loves protective Papa Prime huh? Well, who am I to deny the desire to see him going to any lengths to protect his kiddos?

Stolen

After the exhausting experience that dealing with his sparklings going through their growth spurts at the same time, Optimus was totally out for the count. He couldn't get up even if he wanted to. He was out cold in deep recharge and so did not even so much as twitch when his sparklings wandered off. The rest of the team were in similar states of exhaustion due to their extensive energon scouting missions and the odd battle with the Decpeticons. As such they were not at all aware of it when the sparklings marched on through the groundbridge before it closed after a patrol returned.

It was of course Miko's idea to go through the big glowy portal. She had seen every other bot go through it and she was desperate to take a look at what was one the other side. Jack had left base a handful of times but never without Optimus, as such he was very much dubious. But not wanting to leave Miko alone knowing she would likely only cause even greater trouble for their Sire, he opted to follow her through the groundbridge using his own experience as justification for doing so. He would have told another bot, but with all of them being so very exhausted, he in his naivety assumed that it would just be a quick trip. As such he also decided that it was a perfectly acceptable idea to take Rafael with them as well. That way their Sire and the rest of their family could relax for a bit and Jack would keep his siblings safe and protected while they went on their adventure.

It was a foolproof plan in the processors of each of them, save for Rafael who was too young to know what was going on... that was until the sparklings stepped through the groundbridge and had it close behind them. Jack's first response was to panic, he scoured the area, looking for the groundbridge and hoping that it had just moved or something. Meanwhile Miko worriedly began wandering around, no longer all that excited due to how strange everything was and how scary the world seemed without Optimus there to protect her. At the same time Rafael began bawling as he followed Jack around, holding onto his leg and whimpering. The trio of sparklings had no clue what to do, and so not knowing any better, Jack followed his instincts and began searching out civilization. On Cybertron this would have been fine, and in fact it would have been the best course of action for lost sparklings since any and all sparklings are cared for regardless of faction. But on earth? That is an incredibly different story. As such it did not take long for MECH to catch wind of the sparklings as they tried to get toward the nearest city.

By the time Optimus woke up to the feeling of pure undiluted terror and pain from his sparklings over the bond, checked the security footage, and groundbridged to the area his little ones had ended up in, it was too late. Trapped in cages and being carried away in helicopters were his sparklings, each fighting denta and claw to escape. Optimus did everything in his power to get to them but he could not reach them even when he pushed himself. In the end he screamed into the void and feverishly worked at base to try and find their location. He had already had his sparklings taken once, he would not allow anyone to keep them from him.

He wouldn't recharge, he wouldn't fuel, he wouldn't do anything but work to hunt down his stolen sparklings. Eventually, despite the team's best efforts, they had to knock him out and stick an IV in his arm just to get him to rest. But as the days ticked by, things began looking more and more dire. The sparklings couldn't be found anywhere even with the entire team out on the hunt day and night. It did not take long for Optimus's mental state to deteriorate again, and this time at rapid fire pace. In less than three days he was ready to commit a genocide to find his little ones, even going so far as to begin threatening Fowler should he fail to find them. The Matrix screamed at him and his spark wailed as he felt his sparklings cry out in pain and fear. By day five of finding nothing in regards to the sparklings, something in Optimus snapped. He no longer cared about anything except getting his little ones home, the war could go slag itself and morality could take a backseat. And so in the dead of night while the team were all out cold exhausted, he called upon his greatest foe.

Optimus: Megatron, I require your assistance and I will not take no for an answer.

Megatron: What makes you think you can order me around Prime?

Optimus: You are a monster, but a monster that I share one value with.

Megatron: And what might that be?

Optimus: *smiling cruelly* I think we can both agree that those who harm sparklings deserve to die.

Megatron: *very much scared for his life* On that... we can indeed agree.

Optimus was allowed onto the nemesis not long after on the agreement that he not break anything or otherwise attempt to sabotage Decepticon plans. Most expected him to walk on looking stoic as ever, grimly determined and cautious. What not a spark expected was for him to march on in like he owned the place, a huge axe in place of his sword, and an expression that screamed death and spoke of slight insanity. He didn't even seem wary as he began issuing orders and using Decepticon tech to get a better scan of the planet. Not even Soundwave dared to interrupt the Prime, instead opting to assist in order to get him off the ship as soon as possible. With Optimus in his maddened obsessive state, no good could possibly come form having him around longer than necessary.

By the time Optimus managed to track down MECH's base, his anger was undeniable. His frame shook and rattled, his optics glowed nearly white with the additional wrath of the Matrix, and in that moment Optimus did not look like the holier than thou Prime... he looked like a spark eater of legend, just waiting to be unleashed. As such when he requested aid on the ground, Megatron was loathe to deny him for fear of losing his own helm.

Megatron: *doing his best to stay calm* Tell me Prime, what do you intend to do to the humans who have taken your sparklings?

Optimus: *not looking up from the screen showing MECH's base* I will kill each and every one of them. Not a spark will escape me.

Megatron: *scared as pit of what Optimus could do if he ever turned that anger toward him* I see...

Soundwave: *whispering to Megatron* Caution advised.

Megatron: I know

MECH were not prepared in the slightest when Optimus appeared in the middle of their base armed to the teeth and not even hesitating to blast the closest human into paste. Not even Primus could have stopped Optimus (not that he would have) as he raged, slaughtering each and every human in the base and leaving Megatron and his troops to watch from nearby in horror. They only joined Optimus on the ground partially out of morbid curiosity, but mostly out of a desire to ensure Optimus was able to take out his anger on the humans and not them. They captured any MECH agents who tried to escape and tossed them back into the slaughter house that was once their base of operations.

The Vehicons shook in terror as Optimus played a sick game of hide and seek with the few humans who tried to hide, giving them the faintest glimmer of hope only to end their lives the moment they "won" the games he forced them to play. It was sick, it was twisted, and gave Megatron a harsh wake up call, reminding him of what Optimus could have become if he pushed him too far. As Optimus finished slaughtering the last human, Megatron prayed for the first time in millennia for Primus to protect him from the monster before him. The warlord audibly sighed in relief when the Prime's attention was shifted away from him and to his sparklings who were held in a cage and cried out for their Sire. He did not so much as twitch while Optimus, who was positively covered in gore from helm to pede, ripped the lock of the cage and pulled out his sparklings with tears of joy in his optics.

The sparklings didn't seem to care about the fact that their Sire was covered in blood and guts and merely wept in relief at being reunited. All the while Megatron stood in shock at everything he had seen.

Prime had sparklings, three of them. Where he got them, how he got them, and how long he had them were questions Megatron was too afraid to ask so he simply accepted it.

Prime, the normally peace loving, loft sparked, former archivist was capable of rage, true maddening rage.

Prime had killed nearly a hundred humans and didn't even seem the slightest bit guilty about it.

With these three facts sitting right in front of him, Megatron didn't even try to backstab Optimus and just watched silently as Optimus called for a groundbridge and left with his sparklings without so much as a threat or a thanks. The Decepticons all vowed that day to never touch the Prime's sparklings, lest they end up smoking husks on the floor.

When Optimus arrived at base the team's first response was relief as they saw the sparklings, but then it swiftly turned to absolute horror as they looked at their Prime. The dopey contented smile on Optimus's face and the gore coating every inch of his frame were the most terrifying set the team had ever seen. Optimus rarely smiled so openly and he never, at least in living memory up until that moment, killed so maliciously, much less humans. Smokescreen passed out immediately at the sight and the rest of the team barely fared any better, most shaking in dread and having to hold onto something for support as Optimus came near. Only Ratchet was able to hold himself together enough to take the now blood coated sparklings to give them a checkup after their traumatic kidnapping. However Optimus did not stray far and remained looming over Ratchet's shoulder as he worked, blood and the occasional scrap of intestine dropping to the floor as he paced around, watching like a hawk.

Optimus only eased off once Ratchet shakily informed him that the sparklings were fine aside from a few incisions and minor energon deficiency. Even then he did not excuse himself to the showers to clean up until each of his sparklings were cleaned, calmed, and put into the arms of the team to ensure they didn't wander off (not that they would after their experience). Once Optimus came out of the showers he looked and acted completely normal, as if he hadn't gone on a vengeful killing spree at all. The team never asked him for specifics as to what went on during his rescue of the sparklings. But based on the newfound fear they could see in the optics of the Decepticons whenever Optimus appeared on the battlefield, they got a pretty good idea of what happened.

However they could not bring themselves to fear or see Optimus any differently when they watched him lovingly care for his little ones when they woke in terror from nightmares about their imprisonment. In all honesty they couldn't even blame Optimus as most of the team came to the conclusion that they wouldn't have acted much differently if they were the primary caretaker for the sparklings.

[ghoulish-fiction]

For those of you who like my "ghouls are a human and a demon smashed into one" headcannon, here's some notes copy and pasted from my notes app. Its a list of ghouls, in no particular order, and what I think becoming a ghoul was like for them and what theyre like now. Kinda. Very much subject to change. Cut for length. Enjoy byyyyeeee. ✌🤟🖤

Dewdrop: early on the human and fire had an incredibly hard time adjusting, so water had to be in charge. She took good care of them all, but she grew exhausted. Human and fire have finally been able to step up and have meshed nicly. They are waiting for water to be ready to join them. They are thankful to her for what she did for them. 

Aether: human and quint were so compatible and so enamored with eachother that they became one in record time, and their love for eachother, for themself, for their life, has spilled out into their pack. This is why Aether is a lover, healer, protecter because he is a love story. (I wrote this a few days ago and now i kinda hate it idk)

Rain: half joined with human being the more dominant personality most of the time, can be a bit moody because of this. Water is very powerful and lustful. Human shares this hunger but doesnt know how to act on it so they gladly let water take control and sate their needs and desires. This applies to the bedroom and the hunting grounds. On stage, its all human. He loves the spot light. Its what he's always wanted to do. 

Phantom: not as young and dumb as everyone paints him to be. He is young though. But also insanely powerful. His youth and sweet personality decieve people. He joined with an absolute power house of a demon. The demon was so powerful that the poor guy almost didnt make it. His body lay comatose for a while. In that time however, the two beings grew to know eachother completely and soon became one. So when he awake, transition was easy mentally, but challenging physically. He's extremely confident and comfortable with himself.

Cirrus and Cumulus: they have always been a package deal in my mind idk why. So they are two humans who were in love who joined with two demons who were in love. They are both half joined like Rain, but Cirrus tends be lead by the demon, while Cumulus tends to be lead by the human. But really its a toss up of who is at the wheel at any given. This is why either of them can have some wild mood swings from time to time. They are a two person polycule.

Phil: demon doesnt have elemental powers but his inherent power is strong, but he is like never around. Just kinda there for the ride. So human takes the lead. That's why Phil is very much just a dude lol.

Swiss: a rare creature indeed. Human, quint, fire, and air. The three demons were part of a large pack, but tragedy struck. In the end there was only the three of them left, with air barely hanging on. They took a last ditch effort and sought to become a ghoul to save air, it was the only way. They were a package deal because they refused to lose anybody else and because air would need their strength. The ritual was sucessful, and all four parties made it. They all bonded easily into one, making our beloved Swiss. His air powers are very subtle because air would never fully recover. 

Swiss is so very dedicated to his pack and insistant on having a good relationship with everyone because of the demons past, but the human had strong feelings about family before too. (I kinda hate this even more than Aether's idk)

Mountain: the human and the demon met accidentally on a fine summer day. The human was out foraging when they saw strange tracks. They thought it was an injured animal, so they tracked the animal with the hope of finding it and helping it. What they found though, was a demon. The demon was longing for its old simple human life. It was exploring the surface, admiring the world they so had so dearly loved, thinking it was far from humans. The two came to know eachother well and decided to join together. Fully joined into one but it was a very long process. They let it happen naturally.

[piduai]

where ogata's true loyalties lie has been such an intense subject of debate lmfao i personally never read any of the "meta" floating around because i have better stuff to do but i know that it's been such a busy matter. AND THEN CHAPTER 304 DROPPED AND SET ALL OF THAT ON FIRE AHAHAHAHA yeah anyway still one of the highlights of my reading experience, it was pandemonium out there... like people were soooo eager to cling to the idea that their special little meow meow was not like other girls and upon deciding that he's a strong independent sniper who needs no tsurumi he stepped on a path of anarchy and whatnot... unlike the rest of them stupid, delusional, malleable tsurumigirls he alone could see through tsurumi's vile manipulative nature and MANIPULATE HIM IN TURN... wow such a cool mastermind, such a mysterious byronic hero, such a sublime personality... but then 304 came along and he turned out to be the most rabid tsurumigirl of them all. i'm telling you it was crazy. it's when they started talking about how ooc he is and how noda ruined his own character AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA a great day for me

anyway. one thing, he never stopped referring to tsurumi with the appropriate military title, not even once. not even when he was talking to himself!

and it's not because he's such a respectful little darling who looooves hierarchies.

tsukishima's rank was higher than his, so if that were the case he'd refer to him as sergeant tsukishima. except he doesn't, because tsukishima is nothing to him now, he's out of the army and he has no respect for tsukishima. tsurumi, on the other hand...

lovely chapter overall with insane foreshadowing btw

^ cat bringing a nasty, violent gift to his master

^ ogata's actions being framed as a cat bringing its master a gift.

it's also funny that it's been there the entire time, everyone just dismissed it. it's not like tsukishima came to this conclusion himself, most likely it's tsurumi who deduced that it's what ogata is trying to do.

tsurumi knew about ogata's rebellious phase AND that he's spying for central! just like he knew about kikuta. and he left him to his own devices because a) he didn't feel truly threatened by his actions and b) he was trying to squeeze as much use out of him as possible before discarding him. he also knew of ogata's issues, about his obsession with his father, and that he wanted to exceed him. thing is, he wasn't even wrong! ogata WAS trying to bring a nasty, violent gift to his master; he DID want to exceed his father, he did want to climb through the ranks. i'll give it to ogata that he managed to fool tsurumi in one respect - tsurumi didn't think that HE is the master that the cat is trying to bring its present to. this is why he joined the gold hunt on his own, this is why he was so hellbent of taking the code out of asirpa; he wanted to be the one to bring it to tsurumi, and to make him look at him and him alone, acknowledge him, love him...

but also it's not that ogata ever... well i was about to say harbored delusions but delusions are his best friend... hm, it's not that ogata didn't see tsurumi for who he actually is. he did. he was aware. he's seen it over and over, hell he's participated in his schemes too

(he's actually saying that they can't win him over, not that it won't be easy to do it)

(he's also not saying "stupid cliches"... it's more like "pompous speeches" which is another roundabout way of saying "obvious bullshit", but he's not being crass or dismissive when talking about tsurumi. which he is when talking about anyone else)

like... he KNOWS what kind of person tsurumi is, he knows that he's a lying bastard, and he knows that he puts effort into charming those he wants to use. he just thinks that he's different. it's not that he ever bought into tsurumi's lies regarding himself, except part of him so craved his approval that he decided to let tsurumi play his fiddle and went along with it. thing is, he respects tsurumi; he admires the way tsurumi navigates his way through life, he acknowledges tsurumi's talents and strengths, and he wants to be like tsurumi. there's a bit of personal bitterness in that "tsurumi knows how to fool young men and make them follow him" because he WAS one of those young men. even while recognizing tsurumi's slimy dirty ways while being patted on the leg by him after he was talked into killing his father and calling him a conman (smooth-talking bastard, seductive bastard, what have you) he was still hurt and offended when it turned out that hanazawa was merely an obstacle for tsurumi's political agenda, and that he was used to get rid of it.

and tsurumi knew that he knows, i think this is part of why he never liked ogata. usami knew too, and tsurumi knew that he knows, except usami loved being used. even in death! even with offence to his own person. but ogata is difficult. and yet in the end ogata still went back to him.