#i remember grave robber call outs even

[1nvad3rz1m]

I think the Ang issue is not even fandom drama, at it’s core. It’s more an indictment of the failure of the American medical system. A disabled, mentally ill person should have access to medical care and mental health support, even if they’re drawing dubious art, even if they’re unemployed, even if they’re hurtful/dangerous people, as people involved in this are alleged to be.

They shouldn’t be left to just fester online, become more ill/erratic and just hurt each other over and over and over, on discord, in fandom, in all these spaces that we just see as petty or trivial.

We need something better. Fandom isn’t the issue. Lack of support and care irl for vulnerable people is the core of it.

I dunno man. I’m just sad about everyone in this situation. Nobody happy and healthy would do any of this.

oh i agree completely! i think people even saying fandom is a big part of it are missing the point a little, all this happened because of personal issues between friends who couldnt leave it. but that alone wouldnt have caused what happened to happen if there was better medical care and easier access to affordable treatment without a source of income/health insurance.

ultimately the issue is far bigger than any one part of it, it was a bunch of moving parts. but fandom was just a weapon, nothing more than that. the core is a shit health care system that leaves disabled and chronically ill patients to suffer and die.

[yandere-sins]

Not to be the monsterfucker y'all know and love but I was running around, clearing the map today a bit while I was waiting for a visitor and I found these absolute UNITS of skeletons (They are called Death Shepherds):

Like HELLO???? I don't even mean that sexually but WHY ARE THEY SO FREAKIN' HOT???? (Sorry for the crap resolution on the first pic, I forgot screenshot's existed and used my phone, but then I remembered.)

Also they were HUGE BOYS (yes, plural, there were 2. Like Gale certainly has BJ height at most next to them, they were MASSIVE CHUNKS OF SKELETON AND ARMOR!!) compared to everyone else, even my Dragonborn Tav, and they kept reanimating the ghouls (which weren't as pretty), so I told my friend who was obviously appalled by how infatuated I was with the skeletons really tickled my inspiration for them, and I was thinking...

Yandere skeletons that are just your scary dog privilege, protection squad.

(And no, we are not sexualizing this time, this is not Sans Undertale.)

You should have died that day you met them, but without any apparent reason, they didn't attack you. They just watch you with their holes for eyes, ever so slightly creeping closer. It's not until the ghouls sticking around them notice you that you get into grave danger. You see those hungry, violent creatures charge at you, their claws scraping over stone and dirt as they come for your life, when, suddenly, the sound of a sharp blade cutting through the air and then flesh fills the crossroad where your unfortunate encounter takes place.

The scream ripping from your throat gets stuck as the head of the ghoul that attacked you rolls up to your feet, a now bloody sword lowering again as you hear the other ghouls whimper—whimper!—before they take off the other way. Instead, the two skeletons stalk closer, their armor rattling as if they were still living, breathing beings going off to war. Instead, one bends down, inspecting you with soulless eyes, its hand coming up to cup your cheek as if concerned with the horror etched into your face.

There's no getting rid of them. After standing around for what feels like ages, you are as confused as you are increasingly in a hurry to get away. Once you take enough steps away to turn your back to them without fearing being struck down, you make a mad dash for your life, running until your thighs burn and lungs beg for a moment to breathe—only to hear their armor rattle behind you.

Honestly, purely from a travel companion point of view, you cannot ask for anyone better. They are swift and skilled in battle, scaring away anyone who dares to come close to you, and incredibly low maintenance, as they don't need food or shelter, really. But they aren't mindless goons either, and that's where things get crazy.

Because one night, they decide they deserve cuddles for all the good they do.

As if being watched by the darkness in their eye sockets while you sleep isn't bad enough, you feel the hard armor press to your back one night, an arm—clothed but mere bones—wrapping around you from behind, face nestling into the nape of your neck. You can kind of come to terms with them trotting behind you all day, never saying anything, never leaving your side. You might even be thankful for their help when they keep robbers and goblins at bay and you out of any harm's way. Hell, you let them watch you do anything like eat, sleep, and—despite feeling unwarranted shame rake its claws down your body—bathe. But this was getting out of hand.

It could have been okay if it had only been a moment, but learning that these creatures sought out contact this intimate freaks you out. And it's never just a moment of putting their souls at ease, no. Because no matter how much you wriggle, they won't let go of you, their scraggy fingers digging into your flesh. You'll have to wait for them to switch if you want to try and escape, leaving everything behind to make a run for it in the middle of the night. But in stark contrast to you, who ran into the darkness without the time to collect things, they have all their belongings on them if they pick up their swords, and they can run endlessly without worrying about aches and stamina, catching up to you quickly. You'll just hang your head and be escorted back to camp when you decide to stop panicking, only for them to take the opportunity to rearrange and occupy both sides of your bedroll as they please once you want to lay down for another sleepless night.

It's not like you can get rid of them. You can't take them both on and if one falls, the other will just bring it back to life in an endless circle. You saw it before; no doubt it will happen again. Even if you talk to them, ask them questions, or shoo them away, they don't budge and cannot answer, getting into motion again only if you do. The most they ever give you to indicate their thoughts is laying their head to the side as if they don't understand you. Or admire you. Or stare at you adoringly. Who knows.

Things turn from bad to worse when you decide to end your adventure and return home. The stares you receive when you enter the city you live in with your hulking, undead companions are mortifying. Some people faint on the spot; others scream. And the two try to fight anyone trying to squeeze past them, seeing them as possible enemies to you. They made sure your life will never be the same. Neither friends nor family can get close to you, and no one dares to talk with you, trade, or even look your way. These two are creating a life where you'll be separated from anyone but them, and you begin to doubt they are doing it unintentionally. You'll never be able to free yourself unless you find a group that manages to actually kill them both.

But then again, as you stare at the night sky, stars twinkling above you, you can't help but feel bad for the two boney companions hugging you and resting their hard heads on your chest. The same ones that are so scarily indifferent, yet swift and merciless in a fight, straight out of a horror story with blood splattered on their white faces and swords in hand. Yet, they pick up flowers for you on the way or clean your equipment while you're asleep, hunting food for you and preparing it so you can cook and eat it right away. They are like needy puppies, putting their heads on top of yours while you read the map or admire the scenery, or hold onto your sleeve as you walk through a dark cave so you don't get lost. Clearly, they have some lingering sentiment, searching for warmth and affection from you. There's nowhere for you to run or hide, as they have all the time and strength to go after you. Maybe you shouldn't have given them names, shouldn't have treated them kindly when you started to travel together. But all these regrets come now when it's already too late.

Because they will let nothing and no one take you from them, no matter who or what they have to fight, just so they can have you all to themselves.

Their pretty, little, alive darling with a heart that races so fast whenever they do anything, be it scare or love you. 

__________________

Bonus points for you somehow dying despite their efforts (traps and magic are a bitch to avoid), so they keep reviving you, and they either... 

a.) succeed, and now you owe them your life and have to live with the knowledge of what it's like to die and that they'll most likely keep reviving you, even if you die of old age. So you'll suffer eternally with them.

b.) don't succeed, and can't accept/don't understand you're dead, so they carry your body around, trying to show you all the pretty things they learned you like as you slowly decay in their arms until you are a mere skeleton like them, so they lay you to rest in a grave with them, coming alive only when someone tries to rob your grave before returning to slumber next to you. You three won't even be apart in death.

Like, sorry guys, that's my emotional support yandere skeleton beloved ♥

[fanged-fate-fest]

2023 Anything But Human Master list

That's about a wrap for the 2023 Anything But Human fest! Thank you to everyone who participated. It was a lot of fun, horror, and laughs. There are a few more people still writing so the list will be updated in the next week or so.

Updated Dec 2nd

Submission list page

AO3 page

Whether Land or Sea, You’re the one for me by dystopianRebel Ariel isn’t the only mermaid to get a happily ever after.

the righteous dead by Aspen_Gray Harry is resurrected, sewn together with thread and magic. He remembers nothing except that he loves his savior, a man named Voldemort.

I will follow you into the dark by evaleon70 for queasy Harry loves a good horror book, and this new one about a monster called Voldemort is now his favorite. Unknowingly, he calls out to the shadowy entity, and gains the monster's full attention and appetite.

caught in my web by queasy Well well well, look who The Other Tom has finally caught.

tom's foolery by queasy for sujing Harry is an absolute menace as a ghost. But Voldemort's guesses this is the price he has to pay for killing Harry Potter, and becoming the newest leader of the magical world.

to the grave by asterismal (asterisms) Four times the denizens of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry speculate about the Dark Tower's ghost. + One time the ghost speaks for himself.

Therefore, Repay Evil with Blessing by evaleon70 Father Tom loves his position as a Priest - it is so much easier to kill with his collar. Harry has been watching him, and the Angel is far from pleased with the blackening soul inside those vestments.

Got lost in it, feels impossible by Soulseeker (Laserswordtraining) Revived Harry’s horcrux, Tom is part-dementor with powers over emotions and memories. Especially Harry’s.

windswept by asterismal (asterisms) Eleven years old, in a shack on a rock in the sea, Harry Potter learns there’s an entire secret world of people just like him. People with magic. People who are strange. Perhaps even people who are trouble. Except, even here, no one is strange like him. (At least, not yet.) AKA: Three meetings between Lord Voldemort and the Boy-Who-Lived.

haunting you by queasy for purplemineralwater Harry James Evans-Potter is Godric Hollow’s well-known wizard for any and all things spirits and the beyond. He was given The Riddle Case last month, when one of their squib servants called him up in hysteria for help. What Harry first summoned was a sloppy job of some amateur necromancers or grave robbers, turned into something far more inexplicably horrific.

The Woods are Lovely, Dark and Deep (I have promises to keep) by evaleon70 Prompt fill for Anything But Human Fest: "Lost in the woods surrounding their secluded village, James and Lily are found by the monstrous forest god Voldemort, who leads them back to safety in exchange for their firstborn child. When Harry is born they don’t give him up, and figure they’re safe as long as they keep away from the woods, as its creatures are somehow unable to leave. But even if V is unable to physically reach them, his powers manage to drain their lives before Harry turns two. Being raised by the Dursleys, Harry grows up strangely fascinated with the forest, even if he knows he must never enter its domains (surprise: he ends up doing it)"

World Saving Distractions by SolidMisfortuneandThings Voldemort was always obsessed with Harry. Now they finally know why. Severus Snape was the first one to figure it out and uses it as a distraction so that he could hunt down the horcruxes and be labled as a hero. Harry Potter is only a sacrifice anyways. Who cares how it happens? Submission for Anything but Human fest Prompt: Voldemort is more snakelike than he realizes and its mating season

In body, in mind, in spirit by Ciacconne For the ABH fest. For the prompt: “Tom is a doll maker, and he creates Harry, his personal Pinocchio who thinks he is a real boy. What will he do when he finds out the truth? What was he made for? (for Tom's entertainment?).” Green eyes wooden fingers green eyes trembling fingers searching piece by piece a world now known

Chemical or Magic (I can't let you go) by SquibNation10 For my prompt: Aliens!! Voldemort's spaceship crashes on Planet Earth and of course, he has to find resources to rebuild his ship and later take over the stupid planet that dares mess with his plans! Unfortunately, he meets a homeless Singer-wannabe Harry Potter who messes up his plans. It features Regulus as the Star Elf, Luna as the Loveable Robot, Ambitious General Umbridge and a very Don't give a F Dr Snape. Inspired by a convo with someone I had when they asked me about fanfiction: "You spend all your time on remaking other stories because you have no idea what the real thing is- this is no art," "Maybe, but in my remakes, I never lose hope that I'll find art, and yeah okay it's never going to be an original... but it's mine."

treasures untold by asterismal (asterisms) This close, it’s impossible to mistake for human. Perfect symmetry. Black scales that sweep across its cheeks and forehead, framing too-big eyes, round and wide-set; chips of jade that threaten to swallow inky black pupils. He swims closer, unthinking, and the creature poises to attack, needle sharp fangs bared. Deadly. Dangerous.  In which Tom Riddle enters the Black Lake seeking a prize, and he finds one.

Listen Intently (Your secrets are mine to keep) by SquibNation10 for quiet-of-snow The Rock is black and smooth, interspersed with emerald green jagged carvings, almost too beautiful to be a coincidence. Tom (later Voldemort) discovers this rock has an interesting magical signature. He finds out the rock is a sentient being and can communicate with him. The Rock wishes to be called Harry.

carve through the dark by asterismal (asterisms) The creature’s face splits in a grin, its sharp teeth gleaming. “You may call me Voldemort, Lord of the Forest Below.” “You’re Lord Voldemort?” The monster from Dumbledore’s stories (from all the stories, really), leaving him gifts? Helping him? Surely not. “Are you sure?” Voldemort laughs. “What a rude creature you are,” it says, delighted, winding ever closer. “Yes, little faun, I am sure.” “But Lord Voldemort has been hunting us for centuries.” Its head tilts. It smiles again, and its teeth gleam. “Indeed I have.” Harry’s heart flutters. “Oh.” “Scared?” Voldemort asks, behind him now. Harry feels its breath on his neck, and all the hairs there rise. He whirls, glares at the creature head-on. “Never!” AKA: Faun Harry Potter meets infamous snake-man Voldemort.

reign down by asterismal (asterisms) Harry Potter is being watched. Tom Riddle is in crisis. These things are 100% related

Tomarrymort drabbles & stuff by abraginsky__2 One shots. Tomarrymort One Shots.

and all that you've made of me by LyingInSpirals Anything But Human 2023 Prompt fill As a child, Harry was possessed by the demon Voldemort. Even after a successful exorcism, the demon refuses to leave him alone, although he can’t touch Harry anymore and only Harry can see him. As the years go by, Voldemort’s threats of finally getting him seem more and more real, with the demon’s figure turning ever so slowly more corporeal.

the righteous dead by Aspen_Gray Harry is resurrected, sewn together with thread and magic. He remembers nothing except that he loves his savior, a man named Voldemort.

[midnightdevotion]

Not So Sneaky

Request: Reader is Penny's oldest daughter and Maverick and Penny find out she's more like penny than they thought.

Pairing: Reader is a teen so more Mav/penny than anything

warning: none really just a cute domestic piece

Requests are open!

Tag list is open!

Penny shoots up when she hears what sounds like glass shattering in the living room. Having been a light sleeper ever since having two kids. Reaching over, she's anything but delicate as she hits Pete awake.

"Pete there's someone down there!" she whisper shouts at the pilot who's eyes are still glossed over and not registering a thing. "Pete seriously it could be a robber!"

Maybe it's because he's never seen penny so freaked out that he rubs his eyes and sits up a bit. "Honey I'm sure it's just the dog" His voice is low and gravely with sleep.

"Can you go check please Mav" More than anything he just wants to go back to sleep, but he knows that there will be no sleep with penny anxious like this so he sighs and gets out of bed. Thanking the lord tomorrow he doesn't have to be up at 5 am.

Glancing at the clock on the bedside table he see's it says 2:30 am. He rubs his hand down his face as he opens the door to their bedroom. As he walks down the stairs he see's the lamp shattered at the entry way, which makes him furrow his brow, because what kind of clumsy robber would do that.

That's when he notices the kitchen light on, and the sound of someone rustling what sounds like a bag of chips. Making him more confused than anything, because a broken lamp and food doesn't sound like a good robber.

He rounds the corner and sees you in all your glory tired eyed and slouched over and very massive sandwich. He eyes the clothes your wearing and notes that you definitely didn't just stumble out of bed for this sandwich.

"Pens, It's alright you can come down" He calls up, unintentionally making you scream. He can't help the laugh that escapes him. The scream wakes up a groggy eyed Amelia, so there you are eating a sandwich after definitely failing to sneak back into the house as three tired people stand there and watch you.

"Hey mom" you grin sheepishly, you watch as her tense shoulders relax somewhat. Penny isn't outright mad at you for going to a party. You are 19, more than allowed to have a social life, she would prefer it, however, if you didn't wake the whole house up at 2:30 in the morning. She shakes her head at you, mumbling something about talking about this in the morning, before heading back up the stairs. Maverick comes around to grab a glass of water.

"You think she's super mad?" you question the tired man.

"No kid, I think she's just tired, how could she be mad anyway she did way worse when she was your age" he winks at you with a knowing smile, and you let out a laugh. Remembering all the stories people tell of your mom doing crazy things when she was younger, mostly with the man next to you.

"I don't know how people do this all the time, it wasn't even that fun. All I wanted was to come home and eat a sandwich, for like the last three hours."

Maverick lets out a loud laugh at that, you might look a lot like penny but your less reckless teen ways are way different from hers.

"Find yourself a pilot and you'll be anything but bored....but also please don't go near any pilots." you can't help but laugh as he backtracks. He finishes his water and give you a side hug.

"Glad your home safe kid, but next time don't break the lamp" He shakes his head as he makes his way upstairs to join your mom.

___

"what do I say to her tomorrow mav?" Penny finally voices her thoughts as the two climb back into bed with each other.

"I think you need to count your blessings she's not doing anything crazy, a party with friends that she was ready to leave and make a sandwich for half way through? Yeah she's a good kid." They hear you and Amelia laugh from downstairs making both of them share a smile.

"Plus I seem to remember you doing a lot worse when you were her age" he smirks over at her.

"Oh shut up mav" she gently hits his chest, catching her wrist he pulls her closer.

"You've got good kids pen, they probably could stand to do a bit more stupid stuff, how you the most reckless woman I know raised the most responsible kids is a mystery to me." He laughs at Penny's glare shot his way.

"Shoulda listened to the no aviators rule myself" She grumbles, quickly turning into a grin at mavericks offended face.

"Oh shush and lets get some rest, we can wake her up early tomorrow and make her make us breakfast, that'll teach her" penny laughs at mavericks idea of punishment before nodding in agreement. Finally closing their eyes again, knowing it was no robber, just their daughter.

Tags:

@alanadetigy 

@luckyladycreator2 

@multiplefandomsmess

@tkmarvel-divergentbish

@ohh-to-be-a-frog

@roosterschanelslut

[m0thisonfire]

I would love to hear more about Caramele! What are his likes and dislikes? What's his backstory? [I am giving you permission to infodump. Go wild.]

AH OKIE OKIE- GONNA WRITE EVERYTHING DOWN WHILE I STILL HAVE MOTIVATION

I’m going to put his likes and dislikes at the end of this wall of text, and there is a lot, a lot to get down. Just think of one of those walls of texts that have the pinned up photos, on top of me still learning all the Graveborn lore. So it’s gonna be fanon and my stuff mixed with canon.

Also I started answering this and then went to check something on the lore site, and everything got deleted, so I am still suffering over that-

But to begin:

Caramele was born in a small out of the way country town simply called ‘Stone’ somewhere in the Lightbearer empire, named after the huge stone statue of an unnamed hero that watches over the village. There isn’t anything really remarkable or noteworthy about Stone except for the Blacksmith shop and the widowed Baron who lives there with his son. The only ‘remarkable’ things would be the barrows that are scattered around the town and territory, and the ancient magic that the land seemed to be ‘blessed’ or infused with.

A few of the townfolk can channel a little of the magic to grow crops and flowers, and heal their sick and injured to a very small degree. Nothing that can be used in battle or war, so isn’t really considered powerful magic outside of usefulness.

The Barrows, on the other hand, nobody goes near those unless it’s to pay respect to the dead. Stone would have been built around the time of the First Hypogean War, before Annih went AWOL and created the Hypogeans, so the gravesites belong to powerful mages and soldiers from long, long ago. And in the folklore that was passed down from generations, the barrows would have been protected by ‘Barrow Wraiths’, monsters/protectors of the crypts, created to hunt down grave-robbers and desecraters that would threaten the dead and items within. Not strictly ‘Graveborn’, but certainly not living either.

One such barrow would be nearby the shop in the woods.

Caramele’s family is very keep to themselves for many reasons, but his mom Winnifred, and himself, were always the social butterflies of the family, the ones to often go to the town and pick up orders for his dad. He enjoyed his community, despite the occasional odd look he would get from outsiders due to his albinism, but the locals were more than accepting of the Smiths’ son. Rubin Smith is much more introverted than his wife and children, a big and imposing man of few words and fewer friends, but takes pride in his work and family. Caramele also has two older siblings that spend most of their time hunting and foraging, twins named Addison and Aven. Almost everyone in the family knows how to work the forge, and even then Winnifred helped around the shop keeping it clean and organized. The twins hunted, their mother ran the house and gathered orders, and Caramele helped his father in the forge.

When Caramele would be around ten, disaster would strike.

Remember the Baron’s son I mentioned? Well, turns out, he is a not good person. A very unstable not good person. As in, the kind of unstable not good person you would never trust with Divine magic or sharp objects, which, unfortunately, Leon le Menteur had access to both. In abundance, enough so that when he grew up he went into the Heresy Inquisition in the Lightbearer Temple. Which, in itself, is a bad idea. On top of the fact he is one sadistic guy who would target anyone ‘different’. Different like Caramele.

Leon would be twelve at the time, Caramele ten, and a vicious plot would be unfolding in the Baron’s manor that no one even knew of. Under the cover of being a guest at the noble’s party, a stranger (Vedan) would be paying two grave-robbers to infiltrate the Barrow near the blacksmith’s shop, looking for a powerful spellbook he would use later on (Isabella’s book).

Long story short, the grave-robbers infiltrate the crypt and successfully grab the book, return it to the stranger, end up getting poisoned via wine to erase witnesses, and unintentionally woke up one of the Barrow Wraiths through their desecration and thievery.

The stranger would escape into the night never to return to Stone, yet there would be one life he would indirectly change forever.

While the thieves were stealing the book, Leon would have trapped Caramele in the woods nearby as an ill gotten joke before returning to the Baron’s party. And as the night got late and his family got worried, Winnifred would have gone out by herself to find him.

She found Caramele and helped him. The Barrow Wraith found both of them before they could escape.

When Caramele did eventually reach home after his mother sacrificed herself distracting the Barrow Wraith, his outlook on life would be changed drastically. He would be more reserved, friendly, yes. But he would be wary, even outright hostile to most nobles well into early adulthood, especially Leon. Nevermind the Barrows, he would live the rest of his life terrified of the dark and dead.

His family fell into silent suffering despite the seemingly indifferent yet sad demeanors. Rubin became more reclusive, barely speaking outside of his home unless it was for orders or favors for his neighbors. The twins were still lighthearted and goofy, but they would be adverse to speaking about their mother. Caramele, now spending most of his time in the forge to distract himself and becoming quite antisocial, would immediately change the subject with a pointed tone, growing as quiet as his father.

How did the boy every become a Circus Ringmaster, you may ask?

Thank his siblings for that. Noticing their little brother growing more reclusive as he aged, on his fifteenth birthday they begged their father for tickets to take him to a circus. They had hoped something new and exciting would help their brother out of his depression, and Ruben surprisingly agreed. At first, Caramele was less than enthusiastic when they arrived to the huge circus tent.

And then, once they sat down among the crowd, the show began. And for the first time in five years, Caramele would feel Wonder. Whimsy. Curiosity and genuine excitement. And he smiled, for the first time in years.

And he knew exactly what he wanted to do for the rest of his life.

After the show, he searched for the Ringmaster and begged, pleaded to be mentored so he could join the circus too.

The Ringmaster at the time was planning to retire soon anyway, and was more than delighted to mentor the teen to take his place as the new leader. Since the circus traveled often and Caramele was stuck in Stone for the moment, the Ringmaster devised a way to mentor him from afar, writing down spells, tricks, and physical exercises for the boy to practice while the circus was traveling. Every year, around Caramele’s birthday, the troupe would return, and for the two weeks they were near the town, the teen was scored and directed in his abilities.

To Rubin’s relief and pride, his son began branching out, becoming more open and social like he had been before. Caramele spent more time outside the forge practicing his magic and honing his skills. The magic in the land helped him, having grown up on the blessed territory allowed Caramele to wield his magic easily, and eventually it began growing in strength the more he practiced. He trained, and he trained hard, impressing his mentor and the troupe with his dedication and growing passion. He even began performing the tricks and magic for other children and adults in the village, growing more certain in his path with every joyful smile and laugh he received.

The light he could see in others was slowly chasing away the darkness he had seen before, the darkness inside of him.

Alas, I can’t let this man be happy for long, so of course Leon does something drastic again.

At this point, Leon is well beyond obsessed with his childhood (crush) target, and once again corners Caramele in the woods. It would be a week before Caramele’s twentieth birthday, before his debut on the stage and before he took over the circus. Leon, who would be soon sent out to Ranhorn to officially be integrated into the Heresy Inquisition, was less than happy with the idea of Caramele being anywhere the Baron couldn’t keep track of him. So he threatened, pleaded, bargained, offered anything to keep Caramele in Stone until Leon could return for him.

Of course, Caramele refuses. Leon takes offense. A scuffle breaks out, and one right hook later from Caramele, Leon snaps and attacks him. Fortunately, Aven and Addison find them before more damage can be done and chases Leon off. But a shock of Divine magic rendered the nerves in Caramele’s hands shot and painful to move.

The circus arrives early, and the Ringmaster is devastated when he discovers Caramele’s condition. Not as devastated as Caramele though, fearful of being stuck in Stone forever, surrounded by Barrows and the Baron. The Ringmaster is fearful himself, and decides to take Caramele into the troupe early to attempt to help him.

The ceremony to give Caramele leadership goes on as planned, though the Ringmaster revealed there was something he had been keeping from the man until the time was right.

A book of magic in the older man’s possession that was bound to every ringmaster that took an oath to protect it, a book that held magic both damning and approved of. Runes that bent the world to the user’s will, conjuration, alteration, and destructive spells alike. On top of healing spells and illusions that would aid in keeping the circus safe.

The book would be bound to Caramele, and in turn Caramele would be both protected and the protector of his troupe, and the innocent he performed for.

Curious and intrigued, Caramele took the oath binding him to the book's magic. When he was finally given his uniform, already enchanted and imbued with runes from the Ringmaster, he could tell he was given a responsibility larger than he previously assumed. Slipping on his showman’s gloves, enchanted at the last moment due to the newest development, his nerves were soothed and even assisted, little to no pain plaguing him. A relief for his performances.

Ruben, the twins, and the newly retired Ringmaster were present for Caramele’s first performance a week later. Leon was as well, though he left in a fit of rage before the show was over. It was a success, and despite the mysterious book now in his possession, Caramele had never felt more at peace watching the happiness he brought others.

One would assume this is a happy ending. Despite it all, he got to find happiness again. Afterwards, he travels with his troupe all over Esperia, performing for folk and factions of all kind and bringing light and joy where he could.

He kept his circus in top shape, taking in the outcasts and those who had nowhere else to go. As a blacksmith, he could keep the equipment and important fastenings repaired and stable. He was used to wounds and injuries from his time in the forge and his siblings’ hunts, so he could easily stitch and fix minor wounds from accidents. He tested everything himself before shows to ensure top performance and safety for his group, and took genuine joy in training and practice with them. His dedication was admirable, his passion, undeniable. It was everything he ever wanted.

It did not last long. Tragedy number three struck, and struck hard after five years on the road.

It was a day he decided to train by himself in the woods. He wasn’t far from the tent, his troupe stationed near the house of Raine. The estate was a ways off, but Caramele had heard tales of their family. At twenty-five and traveling for years, he mellowed out towards folks and aristocrats, and even hoped that the Raines would attend.

When he heard rustling nearby, he would assume it was an animal of some sort, and be unbothered. When he heard the sound of a young girl groan in pain, he would stop what he was doing and rush to the sound.

It’s here he would first meet Silvina, near death but clinging to life. He would be filled with concern and worry for her, and would approach to help her up, return to the tent, and attempt to heal her. He would not have been able to account for the necromancer that had tracked her…

Caramele’s cause of death was a stab through the back, piercing his heart from behind and being left to bleed out by the necromancer’s surprise attack. Neither he or Silvina would be found by the troupe, and he would be assumed missing for many years to come.

Yet his resurrection causes… intrigue for many Graveborn once they discover his existence.

The necromancer did not resurrect him, no. Only Silvina. And yet, somehow, Caramele was slowly turned into a similar being as her by some unknown force. Not Quaedam, though Caramele would still be under his ‘guidance’.

When he awoke, he was met with the sight of the full moon above him. The next sight was Silvina standing over the body of the necromancer, and a dagger pointed at the newly resurrected Ringmaster. With a little convincing and a gentle hand, he manages to coax Silvina into a calm so he can figure out his situation.

A Graveborn. He was less than thrilled with that, considering his fear of the dead, but oh well. His forced optimism took the second chance as a second chance.

Afraid of returning to his troupe and overwhelmed with his situation and recent resurrection, he offered to travel with Silvina to help her get home safely. Silvina reluctantly allows him to tag along, and eventually, Caramele stands before Vedan’s castle.

On Isabella’s insistence and Silvina’s recounting, Vedan begrudgingly lets him stay with them until he gets his bearings. Of course, they eventually get used to the Ringmaster’s presence, and ‘until he gets his bearings’ turns into ‘You can’t leave, actually. Ever. The girls like you too much, so I won’t let you’.

At first, Caramele and Vedan clash. Hard. Vedan reminds Caramele too much of Leon, and Vedan doesn’t care. Because this guy is a blacksmith turned circus man. Why would someone like Vedan care about what he thinks?

… Until the day came when Vedan realized he somehow began co-parenting with Caramele. Until Caramele realizes that Vedan, in his own way, is completely different from the noble that tormented him growing up.

As time passes and Caramele gets used to being a Graveborn, Vedan integrates him into the ranks and brings him to Bantus.

And that’s usually where Caramele can be found when Vedan and the girls travel there. The man can either be found in the Count’s castle, or somewhere in Thoran’s castle, rarely anywhere else.

While most Graveborn fight and are used to break enemy ranks, Caramele is one of the more ‘essential type’ Graveborn. Not a mindless drone, yet not a fighter either. He usually works in the castle forges repairing everything and anything he can in his free time, or spends most of his time helping other Graveborn. Works in the infirmary with Niru, helps Silas with his experiments, runs papers for different officers, strategizes with Grezhul over battle plans, works in the library keeping records of different things… stays by Vedan’s side as a sort of ‘second opinion’ in the Bloody Priesthood, though he himself isn’t part of it.

His optimism eventually fades into cynical optimistic nihilism, still smiling, yet indulging in much darker humor and becoming more tolerant of the actions of Graveborn around him. Day in, day out, day in, day out… it wears on one's brain, and Caramele goes from initially horrified by those around him, to indifferent and sickeningly amused. He lives to serve, and still uses his passion to perform for his faction and bring a glimmer of joy into the ranks as best he can, though he is often sassy, sarcastic, and very stubborn on his morals and certain matters.

He gets along with the other factions, and is quite peaceful despite his demeanor. There are many things that make him unique as a Graveborn, such as him being able to remember his life as a Lightbearer and being able to walk around in the sun, dubbing him a ‘daywalker’. There are many theories about this from the medical and scientific Graveborn, from his abilities and memory, to the kind of Graveborn he and the girls are, to the fact he seemed to be one of the pactless Graveborn.

The working theory is that the oath Caramele took to bind the book to himself somehow keeps him from Quaedam’s influence and allows him to retain his humanity, though he can interact with the avatar of death just fine. A theory Shemira helped formulate was that he could walk around during the day because of the runes in his uniform. No one wants to test that theory in case Caramele does burst into flames without his unform.

Another working theory is the magic Vedan used in the ritual to turn himself into a Graveborn may have affected Isabella, Silvina, and Caramele’s Graveborn forms. The book, from the barrow in Stone, influenced Isabella’s undead form somehow. Silvina as a Lightbearer being in close contact with her sister at all times seems to have influenced her undead form as well. Caramele is not enthusiastic about this theory, because that would mean even as a child, he would have probably been cursed to this form because of the Barrow Wraith he had been in contact with.

Another reason he does not like that theory is because why the fuck was Vedan in Stone? When, where, why, and what does that mean if Vedan has a book from the gravesite Caramele knows the Barrow Wraith that killed his mother was from? Does Caramele even want to know?

He does not, he finds, because thinking on this actually tempts him to be aggressive and quite murderous. It does not help with his bottled up temper either-

For the current day and age during Afk Arena’s current events, Caramele is more temperamental, yet still subservient, beginning to actually pick fights and itch to fight the Hypogeans. He only takes orders from Vedan, Thoran or Theowyn, Grezhul, or Quaedam himself. Even then it’s begrudgingly and with an unbelievable side of sass.

As a technical Barrow Wraith, Caramele’s prone and main instinct underneath his humanity is to serve and protect his ‘barrow’. Isabella protects her book and sister, Silvina protects her sister and Vedan, Caramele takes it upon himself to protect the Arcanists Union and their home. As a Support Tank, this comes naturally to him, and the growing urge to defend as the Hypogeans grow near leaves him viotile towards intruders and enemies.

——

Likes:

Candies. As a Graveborn, Caramele insists on hard candies to keep himself focused or to zone out while fixating on something. It doesn’t matter to him he can’t really taste it, it’s sweet enough and that’s okay with him.

Coffee. Quaedam save this man, Caramele cannot get through the night without three to five cups of coffee, at least.

Sleep. He sleeps during the day, sleeps during the night. He is dead set on this schedule because it’s what he’s used to. Hence why he needs ungodly amounts of coffee if he’s forced to function at night. But sleep is, to him, temporary death, an escape.

Performing. He still loves making people smile, be it Graveborn, living factions, or Isabella, Silvina, or Daimon. His passion is still what makes him… him.

Smithing. It eases him, reminds him of home and his family. He’s damn good at it too, and takes pride in his work.

——

Dislikes:

A majority of the Graveborn. This man may be all smiles and pleasantries, but he despises the fact most of the Graveborn willingly turned themselves, and/or turned others against their will. He has exceptions, and hears out everyone’s stories. But for the most part, he’s suspicious of everybody.

His height being pointed out. Look, Caramele is only 5’3. He hates being called short. The one time Torne pointed it out, he never did again because Caramele stole his kneecaps and hid them in one of the kitchen cabinets. No one risked calling him short after that.

The dark. Caramele hates the dark. Hates the shadows, hates the things in the shadows, is terrified of the Barrow Wraith from Stone finding him again. At night, he sleeps with a candle.

Mirrors. Caramele. Cannot Stand. Mirrors. He misses how he was before, despite his albinism setting him apart from most people. He can’t stand seeing himself as a Graveborn, an undead, with ashen skin and glowing green eyes, and horns and a tail, so similar from the monster that killed his mom yet so different… he avoids mirrors whenever he can.

Eating humaniods. Caramele will not touch or eat anything considered humaniod or part of a faction. In his opinion, dead is dead, and goes out of his way to avoid eating people, choosing to eat animals instead. He does not trust a plate of meat given to him by anyone in his faction, and will not eat it.

[rfxiii]

Hey, I don't remember if you're taking requests but I'd like to make one 😉. About a few weeks ago you wrote that mind-blowing post with some reasonable questions about the Pre&Post-Ludendorff/North Yankton Era, and they're stuck in my head even since. So I wanna ask you to pick some you're most interested in and guess the answers in the form of headcanons or little fanfics, as you wish. I'm so curious about your theories

Aah tysm! I’m really trying to get better at writing so I’m always taking requests! So feel free to send anything in at any time ✨

I did a few headcanons for some of the questions and then a short little fic at the end if that’s ok!

*TW: slight child abuse mention

[Word Count: 1429]

Was Amanda close with her family?

-Not necessarily family of the year, but I do think they had a decent enough relationship that she and Michael would take the kids to visit them or she’d call them to complain about Michael being gone for long periods time

Did they know about what Michael did?

-yes, to an extent. They knew he made his money illegally, but Mandy never just spelled out the fact that he was a drug smuggling, prostitute ring running bank robber. They didn’t approve of whatever Michael did, but they appreciated that he made enough money that Amanda was finally able to stop stripping and could stay home with the kids.

Do they still think Michael is dead? Did she cut all contact with them when they left for Los Santos? Or was Dave comfortable enough to let Michael and Amanda tell their families what was happening?

-I don’t think, for any reason, that Trevor would have ever met or known where Amanda’s family lived or how to get in contact with them. Dave’s main goal was to make sure anyone who could cause problems (ie Trevor) thought that Michael was dead. So I feel that Amanda may have vaguely told her parents what was happening before she and her family were moved to Los Santos. And as for Michael, I don’t feel like he’s spoken to any member of his family since he left home and started on his path of crime.

Did Brad have family? A mother or father? A girlfriend? Someone else besides Trevor who would have missed him? Someone who Dave also had to sell the lie, that he was in prison, to? If he did have family, were they ever told he was killed?

-Short answer: no. I feel like Trevor was really all Brad had in the world.

Long answer: while he may have had “girlfriends” (or girls that thought they were his girlfriend) in a lot of the towns they passed through, I don’t think he had anyone who would have noticed he was gone. For some reason I have this headcanon that he grew up in foster care, but not with a good family (more than likely an abusive couple, with more children than they could handle, that they kept solely for the paychecks). Maybe Dave found their info after having Brad buried in “Michael’s” grave, but when he showed up on their doorstep they didn’t even remember who Brad was until Dave showed them a picture. To which they responded that they always knew that’s how he’d end up.

Did Trevor try to call Amanda? Did he finally get away from the cops, have a second to breathe, and make his first order of business calling her house to tell her Michael was “dead”? Did she answer? Did she have to fake grief? Did she blame him? Or did the phone just ring? Did it go to voicemail? And did he have to sit in some shitty motel, grieving alone, and knowing full well Amanda would blame him for this? Or was he too afraid and broken to even try to reach out?

-do I think Trevor tried to call Amanda? Maybe. Michael meant more to Trevor than anything, and while he and Amanda don’t get along the greatest there are little hints in game that they used to be friends too. So, if he thought he could, I feel like maybe Trevor tried to reach out? But that either Dave had moved Amanda and the kids as soon as Michael had left out for the Ludendorff score and she wasn’t there to answer the phone. Or, she knew he’d call and despite knowing that Michael was obviously still alive, the fact that they had to uproot their whole life (something she partially blamed Trevor for) had her so mad that she couldn’t even make herself answer when he called for fear of slipping up and giving everything away.

———

He’s finally stopped running. Maybe an hour ago, maybe two, maybe ten. He’s not sure anymore. But he hasn’t moved an inch since he’d checked into this shitty little motel. He’s sitting on the floor, gun in hand as he faces the door and waits for the police to kick it in. His heart hasn’t stopped pounding and his hands still shake while his throat stings from the cold he’d run through and his eyes burn with unshed tears.

It was all gone. He’s still not sure what exactly had happened or how exactly they’d gotten caught. It didn’t matter though. It was all over now. Brad would be on his way to a federal penitentiary if he survived his wounds. And Michael-.. Michael was gone. It hurts him to even think about it. Michael had meant everything to him for years. But now-.. Now he was gone.

He keeps replaying it in his head. The car crash, taking off on foot, Brad getting shot. Michael had gone to help, while he had ducked for cover. Was he wrong for that? Should he have gone back? Should he have tried harder to watch Michael’s back? It had all happened so fast. If Michael hadn’t been so set on “sticking to the plan”, if he hadn’t stood up like an idiot after going back for Brad, if he hadn’t made himself a fucking target then maybe he wouldn’t be-

He’s crying now, no longer bothering to fight back his sobs and heart broken wails as he mourns his best friend. Michael was dead, and Brad may be too, and Trevor feels it’s all his fault.

The hours pass and no police come pounding on his door. But the relief of escape is far outweighed by his grief. He thinks of jobs they’ll never go on, of nights out drinking that felt like they’d never end, of how fearless and untouchable he’d felt from the moment he and Michael had joined forces. But then he thinks about a future alone, about Michael’s dying words urging him to run, about how cowardly he feels for running instead of dying alongside his friends.

In a moment of clarity, through his own misery, Trevor thinks of Michael’s family. He thinks of how Amanda always cursed at him when he and Michael left on scores- how she always shouted about how Trevor “better watch out for him” and how she’d kill him if anything happened to Michael. He thinks of Tracey and Jimmy, and how they’ll grow up without Michael. And he blames himself for it all.

With legs trembling beneath him from hours of running, Trevor pushes to his feet and stumbles to the motel phone. His hand rests on the nicotine stained plastic while his fingers tremble. Lester’s incessant worrying fills his thoughts- warnings about a landline being traced to his location. But really, he doesn’t care anymore. So what if he gets caught? So what if he dies? What’s he got to live for now anyways?

He dials Michael’s home phone- a number he’d memorized years ago when Michael had finally settled down and bought that used little trailer for him and his family. The line rings and rings. And with every dull trill of the line Trevor feels himself growing sicker. Michael was his best friend. And despite how the already shaky friendship between he and Amanda had soured over the years he owes it to her to let her hear the news from him instead of from police knocking on her door or on the six o’clock news.

But the line continues to ring until the droning buzz of the answering machine meets his ears. He freezes. He’d been terrified to talk to her but the idea of leaving such crushing news as a message on some machine is just something he can’t make himself do. He slams the phone down on the receiver instead. The relief he feels is almost sickening. At least he can say he tried.

He thinks of Brad next. Michael had said he’d be ok. But really, there was nothing to say he’d lived. He considers calling…someone. But really, other than him, Brad had no one. He had “girlfriends” in almost every town they stopped at, and he’d mentioned once or twice the foster family he’d stayed with until he was sixteen- the family he’d run away from after years of abuse. He had no one. No care if he was ok. No one to care if he was alive. And no one to care if he was dead.

And now, neither did Trevor.

[drakedoo]

Grave robber head canons

He is gender fluid pansexual(yeah ,screw you Terrance,I’m making  your self insert character a part of the LGBTQA+)

Him and Amber are officially dating (screw Grilo shippers, y’all be nasty🤮)

After Nathan and Mags dies, Graves takes Shilo in under his wing and becomes her guardian and moves into the Wallace house and they form a sibling type bond

He LOOOOVES rats and will bring them into the house all the time

Has a pet one named Finley

But he’s absolutely TERRIFIED of bugs.

Shilo takes advantage of that and Will try to freak him out anytime she can with her bugs

No joke this girl ,while they were outside, and he was collecting Zydrate in a graveyard, picks up a massive spider and says “Graves, look what I got”

He turns around and screams as high as his naturally low voice can go and jumps on top of a tombstone with absolute terror on his face. Of course Shi find it absolutely hilarious that he screams so high, he’s screaming to put it down and stop messing around. 

“ you can work with dead people but you’re terrified of bugs?!  you’re kidding right?😀”

“KID, I SWEAR TO GOD IF YOU DON’T PUT IT DOWN RIGHT NOW!”

Or he could be in the kitchen making food, and all the sudden a massive spider or beetle, or centipede crawls on the floor near him and he screams in pure terror and jumps on top of the cabinets or the fridge

He’s a heavy sleeper and nothing wakes him up once he’s knocked out.

SNORES SO LOUD(I saw this head canon from another Tumblr post but I don’t remember who😅)

Has the nastiest hair mats and it irks Amber so much

Amber could just cutely be playing with his hair and all of a sudden her fingers get stuck

“ have you never heard of a brush?!”

“ too much work to brush it”

Amber basically hold him down and brushes every single mat,knot,and tangle,out of his hair and even braids it

Likes to have his nails painted

They could just a simple black polish, to nail polish matching the current hair highlights he has

But he constantly has to redo it because they get chipped often

Expresses his gender identity and sexuality through his hair

Like one day he comes home ,goes to the bathroom with a bag full of hair dye and comes out with pansexual or gender fluid colors in his hair(actually I think that would look really good can someone please do that🥹)

is a tall person even without his boots on

he’s maybe 5’11 without his boots on and 6’0-6’1 With his boots on

Even after repo men are no longer around and genecops aren’t searching for grave robbers anymore(I believe that when Amber takes over that she makes a new policy where there’s no more Organ repossession and that Grave robbing is legal) he still yells graves at the top of his lungs in a graveyard just for the hell of it

Sometimes Shilo wakes up in the middle of the night from night terrors, and he runs in the room and hold her close to soothe her,and he softly hums or sings a tune to calm her down and Soothe her back to sleep(I mean this in a sibling/platonic way! Not a ship/romantic way! I’m trying to make that very clear that I do not ship these two!)

When Shilo’s hair starts growing back her hair starts looking like a Q-tip, so that’s exactly what he calls her

“ what are you up to,Q-tip ”

“ so my nickname went from kid to Q-tip?”

“ you look like a Q-tip😁”

Him and Shilo always have playful sibling banters, or will just argue over the stupidest stuff

“ so you think the earth is flat? Graves are you an idiot”

“Well on old maps it’s flat sooooo🤷‍♀️”

Likes to get in peoples face for absolutely no reason, just to try to start shit

Amber could be doing work in her office and all of a sudden he gets in her face

“ Babe what the fuck are you doing“

*stares in silence still in her face*

Amber gets absolutely pissed and he start laughing. 

So yeah that’s all I could think of for now and let me know if you want me to do another fandom or even other repo characters

Update: oh wow I was not expecting so many people to like these especially since this was just me writing as they went along. But I really appreciate it and it’s really cool to see that repo! Tumblr is still alive❤️🥲

[hils79]

Title: Xiao Xiaoge

Fandoms:  盗墓笔记 - 南派三叔 | The Grave Robbers' Chronicles - Xu Lei, 盗墓笔记重启 | The Lost Tomb Reboot (TV)

Relationships: Wang Pangzi/Zhang Qiling

Summary:  

Wu Xie holds out his hands to Pangzi and opens them.

Standing in the middle of Wu Xie’s palm is Xiaoge. And he still looks like Xiaoge. Everything about him is as it was. His hair is the same, the neutral expression on his face is the same, it’s just that he’s…

“Xiaoge, you’re tiny!”

How is Wu Xie so calm about this? This isn’t the way things usually go, especially where Xiaoge is concerned. Ever since he got out from behind the bronze door it’s Wu Xie that goes into panic mode if Xiaoge is out of their sight for more than a few hours.

“Why aren’t you panicking?” Pangzi asks, watching as Xiaoge does some of his training moves to test out his new clothing.

Wu Xie shrugs. “Xiaoge’s fine. He’s not hurt or sick or in danger. He’s just smaller.” He gets that gooey look in his eyes that he gets when they’re watching documentaries about foxes. “Besides, look at him. He’s so cute.”

Xiaoge presses his lips together in displeasure at being called cute, but that just makes him look even cuter.

Pangzi takes a breath. As much as he hates to admit it, Wu Xie is right. Xiaoge seems happy enough. But that doesn’t get around the problem of what he’s going to eat.

“I was going to make us some lunch,” Pangzi says because maybe Wu Xie will surprise him and have two good ideas in a row. “But Xiaoge is so small I have no idea what I can make for him that’ll give him all the nutrients he needs.”

“Bugs,” Xiaoge says from the table. He’s stopped training now and is looking up at them. “Very nutritious.”

Wu Xie already has his phone out and is tapping away happily as though this is a perfectly normal conversation to be having. “I bet there are pet stores that have some tasty bugs for Xiaoge to eat.”

“No!” Pangzi says. He must have been louder than he realised because Xiaoge clamps his hands over his ears. He needs to remember that Xiaoge’s tiny ears are more sensitive to loud noises now. “Sorry, Xiaoge, I didn't mean to shout.”

They’re not going to feed Xiaoge bugs like a pet snake. Yes, they’ve eaten worse than that when they’ve been underground and their rations have run out, but they’re home now. Besides, a cricket would be almost the same size as Xiaoge. Even an ant would be about the size of his forearm.

He’ll think of something. When he was young and poor he got skilled at making tasty dishes from whatever random ingredients he could scrounge up. This is just a different sort of challenge.

Read the rest on AO3

Edit: Now with bonus art by @wild-feather

[littleladymab]

FebruarOC - Beryl

today we're talking about Beryl Dawn from my affectionately nicknamed "07 Nano" project that I think i've posted about on here before. (I went checking and what the hell I FORGOT I EVEN DID A SECOND DRAFT OF THE BEGINNING) And as a treat for me, I've picked the others of the main quartet for their respective letters for this month. 

Beryl (like Ren) was one of the founding characters for this project after I took a short story I (started to, lbr, it wasn't finished) write about a boy being tasked to go bring back a girl that was kidnapped. Which sounds very, "huh??" when put that way. And as I've talked about before, I've got "city dwellers" and "hill folk" and a super basic-level dichotomy set up between the cultures that at the time I thought was good world building but i know enough now to say "girl that ain't it" at my past self. 

In this setting, there is a swathe of land that's sort of a no-man's land. The Hill Folk are cut off from their elements/gods and the City Dwellers think that it is too wild. It is, for all intents and purposes, a demon grave yard. What are these demons? Pft don't ask me I never explained it. I don't think I even had an inkling kicking around in my head. 

But there was one from the City Dwellers that would go and dig up the graves of demons and using their bones to carve masks and he gave them to people and they got the nick-name Grave Robbers. Now this, unfortunately, is knowledge that was lost to time before I'm pretty sure I had an idea of what Cantur was up to and what the Deacon was for (more on that in Sam's post later this month), but for the life of me I can't remember, and I didn't write any external notes (or any that survived like three laptop crashes). So I can't tell you anything about that. 

Beryl was taken when she was super young and given a Raven mask. Upon donning the mask, the Grave Robber is robbed (badum tss) of their memories and they become a semi-host for the spirit in the mask. She lived as Raven for a few years until Ren Hari showed up and said he'd come to bring her back to the Hill Folk and if she would be so kind as to go with him that would be great. 

As for the Hill Folk lore, the culture is divided into four seasons and each season is divided into two elements. Beryl is a Spring Water cleric (I don't know why I called them clerics probably too much Forgotten Realms/Dragonlance). I went a step further because i'm an Extra Bitch(tm) and I like forbidden romances and I made her and Ky (you'll see her later too) part of a division of "nymphs" which is an all female-division of their Spring element (Wood and Water) and they were extra forbidden from falling in love/being with a man (note: I didn't take queer anything into consideration, which would change in a rewrite)

Now, Beryl-as-Raven was considered a Fallen in the eyes of the Hill Folk elders because, strictly by their rules she "turned her back on her goddess" (we can't get too deep into it now this is just an intro to the character). Technically they would have let her remain as a City Dweller except the priestess of the Spring Water Nymphs had a vision and that means that the goddess hadn't completely given Beryl up for lost. So they sent Ren to get her (I'll talk more about that on his post). 

However once they get back, before they can review Beryl's case, a massive uprising of Fallen/discontent Hill Folk/City Dwellers doing something idk attack the main establishment of the Hill Folk and everything falls into chaos. 

So by the rules, Beryl is still a Fallen because they never could revoke her status, even though she has returned to them and has gained favor from her goddess to use her magic again. 

She and Ren use this loophole to carry out a relationship because, if things ever settle and they fully review her case and revoke the Fallen status, then she will be fully reinstated as a Spring Water Nymph and that will be BAD NEWS BEARS for Ren, who could be severely punished for being intimate with her. 

Now which of these rules and practices will I carry over? Fuck if I know, this isn't the time to figure that out. For now, enjoy this conversation between Beryl and Ren when she agrees to go back with him.

[cloudninetonine]

*walks on in, faceplants tiredly, leaves after awkwardly getting up and waving, leaving a note behind* Hi, a simple very awkward anon here, how ya doing? Hopefully you're having a nice day!

Pretty sure Cadence of Hyrule Link (or as I call him in my mind Lora, after Coloratura, like the Opera term?) is his own thing, much like how Warriors is, he didn't get melded in with any of the Link's from what I can see in Jojo's lore and much like Warriors he's not in the timeline (and I've got the books with me to double check), so I'm pretty sure his adventure is his own thing, another thing I use a lot to see if there Hyrule's are in the same branch of the timeline is lay out, like is Castle Town named Castle Town or Hyrule Town, how big is Hyrule Field, where is Link's House and where is it relative to another games, does this Hyrule have things that another game has like certain songs and items etc, it helps though that's a me thing for the most part cause I'm an overthinker, Cadence of Hyrule's Link layout doesn't match Legend's or Rulie's from what I remember of his game, besides I think Legend would probably remember the time a stranger from another world wielding a shovel that's actually a bit of a grave robber and literally missing a heart broke into his place through a magic portal to wake him up for music shenanigans with a fairy called Trill, which is Cadence of Hyrule's main fairy like Proxy, Tatl and Navi because she's trying to get back to her own place and drag even more Theater Kid Vaati with her back in one go. I personally headcanon that if he's anywhere in the timeline, he's probably the inflection point between Legend and Hyrule, after Legend's time, but most likely a few hundred years before Rulie give or take, making him one of Legend's descendants but Rulie's grandfather in spirit, or he and Warriors share an era or he's on that gray area with Warriors, Calamity and Wild, though I could be wrong. It would make sense though since I headcanon he gets the Triforce of Power back from Cadence after she leaves, so that would be almost a full Triforce which could lead to the events in Rulie's era.

All I can think now is that Cadence of Hyrule Link would definitely be a theater kid with Player, like he just gets introduces them to musicals from their world and they go absolutely nuts reenacting them when they can, I can definitely see him reenacting something like Helpless from Hamilton with Player just to mess with the Chain members who outwardly simp (because, not only is he more well prepared to deal with Player's unhinged vibes because of Cadence, whom I'm pretty sure has no chill given her main weapon is a shovel, but he also probably gets not so hidden gremlin vibes from her before she's gone), or any song with those romantic and yearning vibes, and I feel like he would really love the game Bad End Theater too, it's a great game if you ask me and shockingly cheap to get.

(...Now this makes me want to have the Chain react to it, maybe I'll write that one day... Maybe)

Basically shy at the start but very determined and with the classic Link will to help people, but an absolute band or theather kid once someone pulls out an instrument or mentions music, you wouldn't get him to sing normally but once he gets going he goes full on Disney Prince, probably a great dancer too and incorporates it into his fighting style, just, draws Player into an impromptu tango dance mid battle, spins and dips them to simultaneously get them away from a stray Bokoblin and deal with it in one go (Wild and Hyrule are chugging vinegar, Warriors could never- boy is unintentionally smooth and everyone is punching the air). His Zelda is also likely very spunky, like Artemis or Flora (she literally gets on his case for breaking pots and it's hilarious, can fight like Artemis which is very rare and I bet Cadence influenced her too) and she'd probably delight in knowing Player, her, Cadence and Player would be besties through energy alone, and Cadence for having another person that knows what it's like to be impromptu isekaied and she would absolutely hit Legend with a shovel if he started anything. She's out of chills to give after Octavo's shenanigans, probably teaches Player how to effectively make a shovel a weapon too.

All I'm saying is that if Nintendo won't give Warriors, First, the Link before Wild (whom I personally call Fia, after the Celtic word for hunter, though hero of seraph sounds so metal and I just- have Many Thoughts but I wouldn't wish to bother ya with my crazy theorizing and rambling even more than I likely do XD) and him some respect and content, but they'll make the Four Swords dress up spin off apparently canon, then I guess I'll just have to do it myself even while sleep deprived.

Speaking of musicals, any favorites you have or think the Chain would have?

Also, Songstress Reader, again maybe they have an Azura from Fire Emblem deal? They can use any of the vocalized songs from the boys era and their various effects, but the more they sing the more it harms their body or it could be specific songs that harm it (Like how Azura gets harmed by Lost in Thoughts All Alone because of the curse placed on the song and on the people whose kingdom they come from), like say the Song of Time, Song of Healing, maybe their own spin on Lost in Thoughts All Alone which can purify Malice like energy and even calm down dragons out of rages, The Ballad of the Wind Fish etc, the problem is when the Chain sees the side effects (I can imagine Wild paling and outright panicking if we're going the Azura route, like, Malice like energy crawling up their body, attacking it for daring to drive it away, Player trying to muffle their pain but inevitably screaming like a Redead under the sun, it crawling up Player's body until they fade into water or wind if they over do it), though it could also be that they spit blood if they over do it, I don't know, just a thought and an excuse for the Chain to watch Player be a good singer and dance, completely at ease as the fairies relax while listening to them, or the Loftwings trying to accompany Player by chirping along or Wolfie joining in, or maybe a full blow songstress au which is niggling at the back of my head (basically it boils down to Songstress knowing Fierce Deity from way back when, and it has quite a few bad endings for each of the Songstress' till we reach LU Modern Player Songstress). Maybe I'll go more in depth into it one day when I have more energy and time.

Anyway, hope you're having a nice day today, maybe I'll come back, maybe I'll ramble about theories about the hero before Wild, who knows, certainly not me.

-A Very Awkward and Sleep Deprived Anon

Thank you for specifying! And honestly the dynamic between him and Player would sound amazing, musical shenanigans all the way!

ALSO MUSICAL FIGHT SCENE I FUCKING LOVE IT- Player's definitely enjoying it too I mean this is really main character behaviour and they love it. (The boys are salty on the sidelines as he dips Player and somehow ends up with a rose in his mouth)

Listen, idk much about Cadence but if she's truly a gremlin she's gonna do just fine with Player, besties one might say and chaos will cover the land of Hyrule within seconds.

I'm not very knowledgeable when it comes to Fire Emblem so forgive me but this sounds cool! Honestly Player with musical magic just makes me really happy it's my favourite genre of magic.

(Also I would love to hear your thoughts on Seraph! Love the name Fia though ngl)

[yourassimcomingforit]

It’s now morning I’m still sobbing over season 2 and it’s now haunting me everywhere I go so have another jumbled mess of words if I’m remembering anything wrong it’s cause it’s the next day and I have shit memory I just remember the big things

So throughout the season we see parallels between Nina and Maggie and aziraphale (az) and Crowley. For example the falling in love under a canopy in the rain is a big old call back to Eden on the wall where az shielded Crowley all those call backs make it even the more painful when none of them end up together cause it’s leading you on making you think that everyone’s gonna end up happy and together.

Now to switch topics to the lead up to the season because none of this is planned out at all, throughout season 2 we see az not really listen to Crowley and what he has to say just assuming that they have the same ideas on stuff or that he’s right. During the flashback in Edinburgh we az and his opinions on what happened looking back on what he did and what happened and we see that they haven’t really changed at all even after seeing the reasonings for why the grave robber does what she did az still thinks that it was a horrible monstrous thing to do and that he was in the right while we see Crowley disagreeing and trying to help her out and also cause a bit of chaos cause he knows that they’re just trying to survive.

Another example is with the dance az just drags Crowley out to dance with him without really asking and just the entire ball in general with him messing with peoples emotions to make them happy and have them dance without their knowledge. None of that is very much season 1 az but it wouldn’t be out of place if it was one of the other angels up in heaven (his behavior in the grave robbing episode as well). So throughout the seasons we see him not really listening to Crowley and acting more like the other angels up in heaven leading up to his decision to lead heaven.

Now onto the final scene the kiss and parting ways. As I mentioned in my last ramble az just completely misunderstood what Crowley would wants and didn’t really listen either with him trying to make Crowley an angel again and saying things like I don’t think you’re listening and who wouldn’t want to be an angel again and side with heaven. Now with Crowleys confession you can see throughout the entire thing that he’s upset probably because of what az was saying about heaven and is trying to convince him to just stay down here with him on their side down on earth but once again az just isn’t listening. Crowley kissing him was just a last ditch effort to convince him and you can how in the kiss az wants to try and touch Crowley back but can’t bring himself to he isn’t willing to give up heaven and just be with Crowley he’s holding himself back. Even once they make their decisions to go their separate ways Crowley watches az leave waiting and hoping that he’ll decide to choose him instead but az doesn’t, he sees Crowley watching but he still can’t give up heaven for Crowley so they go their separate ways with az going up to heaven and Crowley driving away not even deciding to stay at the bookshop.

The entire season just slowly leads up to the inevitable aziracrow and prompt ending of it. We see in this season that they’re a lost closer we even see it in the posters for it with them being right next to and touching each other in some posters rather than the usual separation we see in season 1s posters and just in general throughout the season they’re closer with one another. All of that leads up to aziracrow but at the same time we see the way az is acting in scenes as stating above not really listening to Crowley and acting more like the angels in heaven which leads nicely into him leaving to lead heaven. The entire season is filled with them not properly communicating and once they finally do with Crowley confessing his love and az wanting to go fix heaven it’s just not the right time.

[nyxirrationalstories]

Night's in Geneva

Please Read the tags, thank you for reading

Only the moon and the darkness knew, knew well how it was that night in Geneva.

Dracul was reading quietly in his office, calm like this was unusual but very welcome. His thoughts came and went like a tide in the sea of his memory; so focused was he that he forgot he had a companion, waiting for an answer to a vanished question.

--- Count Dracula? --- were the words that broke the strange "spell" that the vampire had imposed upon himself. Jonathan Harker looked expectantly at his once again kidnapper --- Did I ask something I shouldn't have?

--- What was the question, again? --- It was rare for him, honestly speaking, to forget things and not be able to remember them instantly. I guess the years were already taking their toll.

--- How did you meet Frankenstein? --- While Harker was naive to the point of calling him a fool... he wasn't stupid. Even when the vampire showed his lust and lasciviousness; even when he seemed to have no inclination for anyone; even when he seemed to be that horrible man without heart and without compassion... in his memory still followed those words that the Count himself had said "I too can love.".

And the fact is that, although at that time he suspected that they were addressed more to him... it was now clear that they were for that strange, ill-tempered scientist. Frankenstein and Dracul had a rather strange and unique chemistry, like confessions never spoken but put into practice: you had to be blind or very much in denial that the interaction between them wasn't like that of an old married couple.

--- It was two years before you came to this castle (the first time) in Switzerland --- the vampire recounted, remembering that icy foggy night --- Darkness has always been my great ally and my curiosity, throughout my immortality, has led me to search for new scientific or spiritual discoveries --- the lord of the castle calmly pours himself his glass of "wine" while Harker sips his coffee --- I won't lie to you, that night was one of the most unusual encounters I've ever had. If I've come across grave robbers, necrophiliacs and ghouls, even the occasional doctor and caretaker or visitor, .... but none like that woman with the golden eyes and brown hair --- Strangeness, fear, terror or some relief were the feelings he always saw reflected in the eyes of others... but that night, Frankenstein's reflected the fire of an enigma. Both had looked at each other with curiosity, studying each other as if they had found something out of this world as well as something banal --- You know how she is: when I tried to speak to her politely and eloquently, she was blunt and direct. No roundaboutness or politeness, but neither being brusque or rude: just being direct.

--- Did you know what she was planning or was it a chance encounter?

--- Chance, a clear example of chance or the whim of fate. More in the first conversation is already the work of the two --- If Dracul could not read minds and did not have a vast knowledge, the conversation with Frankenstein would not have gone far. His cryptic way of speaking, with a certain eloquence and double entendre plus the ambiguous and scientific-philosophical way in which Frankenstein expresses herself made for a rather unusual conversation --- I will not give details, since Frankenstein does not like her past to be talked about, but it was an interesting talk which ended with my helping her financially with her project.

--- And you have been attracted to her ever since?

--- Ha, no. Frankenstein is beautiful, but she just has the body of a lady with the attitude of a man.

--- I don't see that it bothers you.

--- It doesn't, but back then those kinds of women weren't my taste.

--- And now? --- Harker seemed to have a little more confidence with the Count, so much so that his curiosity clouded his judgment that he was pressing Dracul.

--- They are still not my type, but I must admit that Frankenstein does not fall into the category of a tomboyish woman and not a super feminine one either --- In simpler words, but they will never be said, Frankenstein was a certain antithesis of Mina. Not contrary in nature or strength, but in attitude to things:

On one side you had Wilhelmina being strong but polite and knowing her place; on the other was Guadeloupe being strong but not caring about "her place." --- She is just a woman who will live under the margin of what is allowed by law, outside of that she will do what she thinks is convenient or what she likes.

--- Grave robbing and desecrating the dead is a crime.

--- And sadness is a poison that infects the soul, something that can cause death.

--- I understand

A Draw of Frankenstein:

I have a Draw of Dracula/Dracul in other script. Is in the story named "La esencia del hombre" is in Spanish but if someone ask, I will translated the script.

[yandere-sins]

Control

[My Commission Info] | [My Ao3] | [Ko-Fi]

a/n: The first giveaway price for the sweet @ohno-otome​ ♥ It was a pleasure working with you and I had a lot of fun with this piece! Thanks for participating ♥

Characters: Yandere!Shinsou Hitoshi x Fem!Reader Warnings: Yandere, Non-con, Lemon, Biting, Rough Handling, Manipulation, Obsessive behavior, Future!AU Words: 5901

Locking his office’s door, Shinsou gave it a precautious pull to check that the important documents were kept safe inside. Luckily, he never had problems like the other heroes - Bakugou and Midoriya especially - where spies would come and try to steal his business information. He was just a good hero, not a superhero. Good. But his firm was going well enough to have some reliable heroes working under him, and that was enough for Shinsou. 

Putting on his coat, he made his way down the long corridor to the elevator. His secretary had made sure to lock up before leaving earlier that evening, Shinsou supposedly the only one late, so he was left in the dark with only the dim emergency lights shining his way. It had gotten pretty late, quarter after eleven, but he was glad he got to go home at all that day rather than sleep on the office couch again. A nice, hot shower and a barely used bed were expecting him after all; how could he refuse these alluring offers of his own home?

Shinsou only slowed down his steps when he noticed the faint lights shining out of one of the offices located further down the hallway. Well, he was supposed to be the last, but honestly, he didn’t know who went home already and who hadn’t. Stepping to the far right so he could look ahead at the doors better, he noticed it was your office still occupied, and for a moment, he tensed, fearing the worst. What if it was a spy or robber that had broken in? You were the media representative of the company. Every statement and scandal that needed to be worked on, promotions sent out, and appearances that needed to be managed were in your hand. It could be fatal if unnecessary pieces of information came to light because someone snooped through your work. 

Stepping closer on soft soles, Shinsou tried to make out sounds that would confirm his suspicions. However, it quickly became clear that it was just you by the long sigh you heaved. It had been a few days since he last saw you, always too busy to check in with everyone in his company, so Shinsou not only felt relieved but also a little happy he’d get to send you home that day. He felt his heart flutter but quickly composed himself. You worked harder than most at his company, your work never coming to an end, and as your boss, he had to stay professional even if you made his pulse race. It would be his greatest pleasure for him to send you home now, considering it was already late. That’s the least he could do for someone he was so fond of.

Without hesitation, Shinsou knocked, hearing rustling rush through your office as you stuttered, “O-One second!” in surprise, and he couldn’t help but grin hearing your voice. You had always been special to him; after all, you had been one of the first to ever join his firm when it was still in its baby shoes. You stuck with him all this time even as the company grew and more responsibilities were shoved your way, and you both grew with the challenges. Truly, if anyone, you and Shinsou were the backbone of this whole endeavor, and he was incredibly fond of your never-ceasing enthusiasm and charisma. 

Not long after, he heard you walk up to the door quickly, opening it with a tired smile on your face. “Good Evening!” you greeted him, still as chipper as if it was morning, but he knew that the bags under your eyes weren’t lying about how exhausted you are. “Are you ready to go home?” he asked, looking over your shoulder to your desk and seeing the many files and papers piling up on your desk. “O-Oh, you know… Just a few more minutes, and I’ll be done.”

Shinsou couldn’t help but not believe you. ‘A few more minutes’ always meant at least one more hour, and leaving you now to go home while you had to stay late would make him feel incredibly guilty. “What are you working on? Can I help you with it?” he asked, stepping forward to get inside when you stood in his way firmly. 

“Nothing, Sir! I’ll be out here in a bit and lock the door when I leave! You don’t have to worry about me.”

Odd, he thought, his brows furrowing in suspicion. “It looks like a lot, though,” he tried to persuade you, and this time, when he tried to move past you, you reluctantly gave up your stance to let him in. “It really isn’t!” you were quick to call after him, but you had probably already realized Shinsou wasn’t going to be swayed from his idea that quickly. “One of our men got into a quarrel with someone from Endeavor’s firm, and I just need to write down the public statement and be gone!”

You rushed past him, and Shinsou couldn’t stop wondering why you seemed so hectic. Setting down his bag and the coat he had taken off again already, he reached for the file on top of all the others to have a look himself. However, before he could so much as pick it up, your hand fell down onto it, and he was surprised by the strength you used to pin it beneath your palm. Finally, Shinsou looked up at you, watching as you avoided his gaze, gnawing on your lip. Something was definitely wrong. 

When you first started, both you and he had been rookies at best. Everything you two did wasn’t up to par with other companies, but you two bit your tongues and accepted the whiplash you received for the ways you were doing things. All this made you both stronger, and before long, you wouldn’t go out to have drinks anymore every night, becoming more serious and working even harder. Yes, the work changed you two, but he thought it was simply the way of growing up. However, right now, your behavior was childish at best. He was just offering help. Shinsou trusted you more than himself, but the way you acted gave him a bad feeling. 

“[Name],” he said gently, trying to soothe the tension coming from you. “Show me what you’re working on, I will help you with it, and we can wrap it up and go home. You look like you could use the sleep.”

He’d be the bigger person. Shinsou realized that all these responsibilities had always just been on your shoulders. Perhaps he should have hired someone to take some of the workloads off of you. Maybe that’s why it was so hard to accept help now? You might feel like you weren’t good enough if you couldn’t keep up with it. He made a mental note to look into hiring a helping hand for you the next day.

Finally, you looked up at him, almost as if tears were going to shoot into your eyes. You sighed, shoulders slumping and your hand slowly sliding off the top of the file, only to grab your own arm and hugging yourself. Something was very wrong; that’s what Shinsou’s gut told him. Very, very wrong.

Opening up the file, he skipped through the sentences, trying to remember what incident it was with only a few keywords. Even if it wasn’t his main priority work, he knew about difficulties that the heroes of the agency had, nonetheless because he was the one to reprimand them and make decisions over further actions. But his brows kept furrowing as he began to read the sentences properly, realizing that what he held in his hands wasn’t a press statement about a work-related incident at all. This was a big promotion for a hero, and that hero wasn’t Shinsou.

His mouth opened, surprised, taken aback by his findings. It was hard to piece together why exactly he was holding a piece of your work, but it wasn’t for his agency at all. Immediately, a hundred little devils peaked up inside of him, giving him all kinds of bad ideas. He didn’t want to believe them, especially when they spoke about betrayal from you so much, but Shinsou’s eyes searched for yours helplessly as he kept on coming up with more bizarre explanations. 

“It’s… it’s not like that!” you were quick to deny it as you caught his gaze. Shinsou wished that the bad feeling he had prior to this would disappear hearing you say that, but really, it had already begun to fester inside of him. “How is it then?” he croaked, wishing you’d give him a good reason for your doings. To him, this seemed like you’d be leaving. It seemed like you were preparing to get a better gig somewhere else. Was this agency no longer good enough? Was Shinsou no longer good enough for you? After everything you two went through?

“They’re my friend! I was just helping them to get a better start with agencies! That’s why I made these promotions for them...”

Oh, he wished he could have believed that. You were convincing, but the bad spiral Shinsou already found himself on had taken over, telling him it was all a lie. “Promotions?” he mumbled, reaching for another file and another. Photos, praise - all of it in your writing and composition. Why wasn’t there even one file that would have shown him the work you did for Shinsou and his agency? Was he not worthy of receiving the same attention you put into these promotions of a hero Shinsou hadn’t even heard about? 

Yes, they were a nobody. But you’d rather use your precious time and skill to promote them than Shinsou.

It was irrational, but every one of the files he picked up felt like a stab in the heart to him. It was Shinsou you were working for! He should have been the one at the receiving end of all your attention! All this time together, had it meant nothing to you? Did he mean nothing to you? Because to him, you were everything.

“I-I’m sorry!” you burst out, heaving a deep sigh. But how much could he believe your words after all this?

“I really shouldn’t have done it in the office, but here’s where all my materials and files are… It won’t happen again!” You bowed deeply to your superior, but all Shinsou could worry about was if you truly understood the graveness of the problem here. 

You shouldn’t have done it at all. 

You should have only worked for him, just like you always did.

The awkwardness as Shinsou didn’t reply at all hung heavy over your heads, and you did the only thing you could come up with after admitting your mistake. “Since I promise I won’t work on those anymore, let’s go home! We can talk more tomorrow, but it’s really getting late, and I know you have to come in early again…” If it had been any other colleague of his, they wouldn’t have talked to him this way. But you… you were just special, and perhaps, you knew it. You knew he couldn’t just fire and let go of you, no matter what you did or how you behaved. Was that why you thought it was okay to search for someone else to give you what you needed? Didn’t Shinsou do enough for you anymore?

Picking up some of the files to take home with you, you grabbed your coat and bag before passing by him, urging him to come to an end as well. You had a lot of freedoms with him, especially considering how he felt about you. But now, as you walked on by, he felt like you were cracking the beautiful image of you that he had in his mind. No matter how exhausting and stressful his day was, he knew coming back to you, have you laugh with him, and cheer him up would mend everything. Had you been playing with him until now? Played with his feelings so you could do whatever you wanted? Was he not enough, so you had to give your attention to other heroes now?

What should he do, now that he was on the brink of falling into this bottomless abyss you left him in?

Shinsou never wanted this to happen. Not like this, at least. God, even if he never told you, he loved you! It was his fault for not knowing better, but even if you didn’t know about his feelings either, you couldn’t just leave. No, he couldn’t let you leave like that.

“Don’t go,” he mustered to say, eerily calm even though the mixture of feelings inside of him burned brighter than flames. 

“I’m sorry--?” you replied, feeling your whole body coming to an immediate halt before you even reached the door. The files plummeted to the floor, and no muscle would listen as you told them to act. You were frozen in place as if you looked into Medusa’s eyes. It was pure desperation. Shinsou would have never used his quirk on you, but this was an exception. No matter what he did, he couldn’t help himself, desperate as he was. All he wanted was to be the center of your attention, just like you were his. Days were long and dragged out, but not one passed where he wasn’t thinking about you. So maybe, if he couldn’t get what he needed from you by being good, he had to be bad instead.

“I would have given you everything,” he muttered as he turned around, slowly stepping up to you from behind. The, “But I was too scared to tell you how I felt,” stayed hidden in his throat as he approached, reaching out to you. If you could have spoken, you’d probably have screamed and cursed at him for using his quirk, and if he had let you move, you might have kicked and run. You were a feisty one; always had been. And he liked that about you too. Liked that he didn’t need to worry so much about you because you knew how to defend yourself and were strong on the inside as well as the outside. But Shinsou worried now. He worried about you, and even more so, he worried about the future you two had together. 

Bringing his hand up and reaching around you, he placed it around your throat to pull you back against his chest, his other hand turning your face to the side so he could easily lean in for a kiss. Others had dreamy dates before their first kiss, and he felt sorry that he couldn’t give that to you. He felt sorry that he never told you about his feelings for you, but you just had to understand. You had to see it for yourself. 

You had to realize that it was best to stay on his side. His good side, preferably.

It was a shame that he had to use his quirk on you, all your movements specified by him, even your lips moving to the rhythm of the kiss. Natural was always better, but he’d accept this for now. His hands began to roam, crossing the buttons on your blouse and returning to loosen them up. Shinsou faintly remembered dreaming about this in particularly lonely nights, the feeling of your chest heaving beneath his touch, your lips on his. This was so much better than that dream, though; much better than any expectations he had even.

The gentle shudders as he pinched your nipple, your bra pushed aside for easy access. “Fucking tease,” he mumbled, tearing himself away from the kiss to wander down to your shoulder, your blouse slowly but surely slipping off your body. “You always wore these tight shirts to show off those great tits of yours, didn’t you?”

Shinsou didn’t allow you to respond, completely satisfied by the moan you bit back. The feeling of you, the sounds you made - even if it wasn’t because you wanted him to do all of this, it felt so much better than anything Shinsou could have ever imagined. You deserved better in every way. You deserved more pay and praise for your work, and you deserved a better man to touch and ravage you. But his hand slipping beneath your skirt and into your stockings and panties, Shinsou made himself believe that he had to do for now. He loved you enough that he couldn’t ignore the shivers and gasps coming from you as he slit his fingers between your labia, happy to find the building wetness welcoming him.

“Look at me,” he moaned against your lips. “Only me.”

Oh, it was excruciating. Shinsou loved you; he loved you so much! He wanted to make you the happiest he ever could, even if he had long lost any rights to it. Everything about you should be satisfied, mind and body alike, and he so, so wished it was because of him. If only he could have been your hero rather than anyone else’s. Even he didn’t know why he ever held back on telling you his feelings and desires for you! But now you were here, and you were with him, his cock building up a noticeable bulge in his pants just from touching you.

He’d give you all that you deserved right then and there.

Oh, yes, he would. “Tell me what you want,” he whispered into your ear, rubbing against you from behind. You had the permission to speak, and yet, you hesitated or maybe didn’t realize it. When he drove his fingers into your depths, you jumped in surprise and stimulation, the words that his quirk had held back just falling from your mouth in masses.

“No--! No, stop! Please just stop it!” you piped up in a panic as if you had only now realized what he was doing with you. But this was just the start of something magical that you had yet to understand. Something only Shinsou could make you experience. “Shh, it’s alright,” Shinsou cooed gently, feeling the goosebumps erect on your skin as his voice echoed through your head, and his fingers explored deeper.

Next in line for caresses were your earlobes, his lips kissing and parting around them, small nibbles to accompany the touches inside you. Shinsou was nothing if not careful. You should have known better than to test him, but you kept nagging, enough to make him reconsider allowing you to speak. “Shinsou…” you mumbled, your voice one step away from being a sob. His name from your lips felt heavenly, but it was a disappointment to find out the reason you were calling out to him.

“Please let me go! I won’t tell anyone. We can just part ways and forget about all of this, alright?”

Disappointment and frustration spread through him like wildfire as he sighed inwardly, resting his forehead on your shoulder for a moment, thinking. “You still don’t get it,” he eventually muttered, pulling his hand from your panties and bringing it up to your lips. You may have wanted to shut your mouth tightly as his wet fingers approached it, but with them pressing up against it and with nowhere to go, you had to open up for them. Pressing them down onto your tongue, he played the muscle like a guitar, pulling and releasing it. Surely it gave you a good taste of yourself, but even more so, when he took a step back, you had no other chance but to follow, eyes widening as you were dragged back further into the room.

With one skilled strike of his arm, all of the files and papers piled up on your desk, your laptop and phone, as well as pens and personal items, met their fate of plummeting to the ground. It was a good thing that you were the last two in the agency for that day; the crashing surely wouldn’t go unnoticed if it hadn’t been just you two. “You’re staying,” he ordered, not letting any room for interpretation. “Come on, [Name].”

Patting the desk, your body, led by his quirk, knew exactly what to do, even if your insides were raging. Shinsou had tried to be nice about it, hadn’t he? But apparently, you needed more satisfying, more convincing reasons for staying if leaving was all you could think about while he was still nice to you. At least your body knew how to behave, sitting down at the edge. Shinsou could see in your eyes how much it frightened you to not be in control, but what did you have to worry about? He was in control now, so you were in good hands.

Loosening his tie, Shinsou pulled it off, brushing back his hair with a sigh. In the end, it was him who had to take matters into his hand. He had always relied on you, but that wasn’t enough anymore. It was okay, though. Even if you shivered with your whole body, he was satisfied with watching you unzip your skirt and pulling it down, stockings and panties following. It seemed like a struggle to get them off your feet with your shoes still on, but ever the gentlemen, Shinsou bent down to pull everything off one foot, kissing your shin before standing up again, your ankle in his grip. 

Steading your foot on the table, Shinsou didn’t waste time with long preludes. It was his time to taste you now. Tender affection was good, but by now, he wondered if you really deserved that from him. Maybe if you had thought about his feelings in this matter, back when he allowed you to reason still, he wouldn’t have to push it onto you, but this way, he had no other chance but to take what he wanted. Roughly if needed.

Pressing his mouth between your legs, Shinsou grunted at the first taste of you, much sweeter than he had expected. Lodged against your entrance is where he could have stayed for hours, but he was quick to direct his attention to your clit, licking at it as if there was no second chance for him to ever love you like this. His tongue was a well-skilled muscle, just like any other on his body, and only got replaced by his thumb when he decided to move on. Had you ever thought about him going down on you? Did you want him to come into your office like this and take you right there, on your precious work desk? Shinsou had dreamt about it before, but had you? Had you ever craved his attention this much as well? If yes, was that the reason your mouth couldn’t hold back on its moans and gasps, your body flinching ever so often when a jolt of pleasure ran through you?

Even with him controlling everything, your reactions were so naughty, downright teasing to the man who loved you so much. He had decided now. Decided to make you his. Shinsou would never let you leave, even if you feared rather than respected him in the future. These other heroes wouldn’t make you happy either, and he just knew they were taking advantage of your great work. 

“I’m the one that you want,” he mumbled, his breath tickling over your sensitive skin. “Can’t you see how much I appreciate you? Why would you ever work for someone else?” 

Your response was covered by moans while you tried not to give in to the ecstasy that Shinsou spread through you. Even if you never agreed on this, both of your bodies were on fire. “No one can give you what you need better than I do.” Finally, Shinsou had set his mind on what to do. Wasn’t it better to stay with the person who loved you and took advantage of you rather than some ‘friend’ doing it? Even if you couldn’t accept him, by the end of it, you’d have to accept the fate that would bind you to him. Because Shinsou was the only one who could give you all you needed.

With his tongue out, Shinsou licked you up all the way back to your mouth, catching you in a gasp before plunging his fingers back in your cunt, this time curling and working you up into a frenzy. It had all been his imagination before, but having you cum, squeals pushing against his lips, made him realize how perfect you two were for each other. He didn’t think you were such an easy girl, cumming just from being eaten out and fingered, but here you were, bending your back and sighing into the kiss as if you just had a glimpse of heaven. It was unbearable to hold back any longer, his cock feeling like it would burst out of his pants any second now. 

While you still rode the waves of pleasure, Shinsou grabbed your arm to turn you around, having your ass perk up over the table edge, perfectly positioned for him. Using his own legs to push yours out of the way, Shinsou finally freed his member from the holdback of clothes on him, giving it a few strokes for good measure. Gripping hard into the supple flesh of your butt, he pushed the cheeks out of the way, rubbing up against your slit and coating his cock in your juices. The slippery wet and the cold air on his heated body only excited him more, his tip finding the perfect spot to enter you as if you two were made for each other. 

Reaching for your hair, he let the strands tangle around his fingers, pulling you back. Your body was quick to react, curving you perfectly, so he had easy access to your entrance. First, the tip pushed in, but inch for inch, the rest of his cock followed, your walls clenching and relaxing around him as he was welcomed inside of you. Hot, pulsing eagerness mixed with your wet insides created a harmonic synergy that Shinsou felt himself fall more in love with by the second.

Shinsou had enough resolve to control his lust, even though now that he was inside you, he wanted nothing more than to pound you till orgasm. But this was for you, too. And so he tempered himself, the first few pull-outs being as slow and gentle as possible with his heart running amok in his chest. Eventually, he latched onto the back of your neck, pressing down to gain even more access to your inside. You struggled with his fingers clenching around the sides of your neck, but whenever it got unbearable, he loosened up, but never enough that you could have escaped his hold, your mouth gasping for air before falling victim to yet another moan.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he noted as it became harder and harder to control himself. Shinsou felt like an animal, and you were his prey. Maybe if he’d bite you, he’d be able to control himself better and calm the ecstatic feelings inside of him. So he did, without you even realizing it until his teeth sunk into your shoulder, and his own jaw hurt, not being made to gobble up another human. But the truth was that it did help. The pain helped him to free his obsessive mind. So much so that for a moment, he regained conscience, realizing the wrongness of his doings. With his eyes wide open, he let go of your shoulder, his teeth marks embedded in your flesh. Yet, Shinsou couldn’t help but think how perfect you looked with his mark, considering giving you more as his hips continued to pound into you.

“Never leave!” he whined as he looked down at your perfect form beneath him. He felt every shudder and ever flinch in your pussy, your walls clenching and relaxing around him every time he went in and out of you. “Swear to me you won’t leave me!”

Shinsou needed to hear it from you. He needed that confirmation just like the air he was breathing. You were gasping and moaning, shivering as you felt your second orgasm build up inside of you. Right now, you simply had to think about him and him only, right? That’s why he needed you to say it! Say you wouldn’t leave for some other hero! Say you’d never look at someone else the way you were looking at Shinsou!

If only once you could tell him that you liked him as much as he did, that would have been enough for him.

There was no time for either of you to complete this conversation as Shinsou slammed into you from behind once more, deeply lodging himself inside you as hot, white semen erupted from his cock. You squealed as you felt him fill you up while he did a couple more pushes into you, instinctively knowing how to make his sperm go as deep as possible. Slumping on top of you, Shinsou buried you beneath him, your mind going blank when you reached your own limit, unable to perceive the tender kisses on your shoulder as he comforted you through your own raging orgasm. Shinsou felt on cloud seven, and he hoped you did too, though he suspected your mind to be fried by now from his quirk and two releases of pleasure. 

With his quirk vanishing upon releasing the pressure that had built up inside of him, all Shinsou could think of was you, you, and more you. This was all he ever wanted, but he wished that you’d feel the same way. Rolling you back over, Shinsou cupped your cheeks in his hands, whispering, “You can’t work for anyone else, got it? Look who satisfies you. Look who made you into what you are. Do you think anyone else could make you feel like this other than me?”

Brushing his lips over yours, Shinsou was sure you weren’t in your right senses anymore, but when you stammered, “N-No…” he couldn’t help but smile, his heart warming at it. So you did understand. You did know it, after all. He gave you what you deserved. He was the only real hero for you, someone who satisfied and took control. And Shinsou earned your recognition for it. He deserved to be loved by you for it, just like he loved you.

Leaning down to your shoulder, he kissed the top of the mark left there, sighing deeply. There wasn’t a way to describe how relieved he felt that his efforts had come to fruition. As long as you realized to which side you should stick, he was more than happy; even if you two had crossed a line, you couldn’t go back over anymore. “You’re mine now, I marked you,” Shinsou mused, rubbing his lips over the teeth marks in your shoulder. 

Finally, Shinsou got up, pulling out of you, white semen dripping from your pussy the moment he unclogged you. Unable to keep you on your shaking legs, you slumped to the floor, hanging on barely by your arms, leaning on the tabletop still. The room was in total chaos, but once Shinsou pulled himself together and put his cock away, his only thoughts were about you. You seemed adorable yet miserable sitting in the pool of cum and your juices. If he left you like this, he didn’t want anyone to find you the following day in case you couldn’t get up and leave on your own. Besides, Shinsou was in charge of you again since you stayed with him, wasn’t he? He had to look out for you.

“Come on,” he mumbled, helping you up and back into your clothes. Closing your blouse as the buttons came to him and zipping up your skirt after pulling your panties back on, ripping the stockings off at your foot. Surprisingly, it didn’t bother him at all, caring for you. Yes, you had always been so strong and independent, it was pretty cute that you had to rely on him now. Once done, he came up, kissing you on the cheek before gathering your coats. Shaking yours out, an idea crossed his mind. 

From now on, Shinsou would always be there for you. 

Seeing the trashed office, he made a decision to relocate you. “You should move into the office next to mine,” he revealed, proud of this idea. It would be so much easier to be around you if you were closer to him, and he’d be able to look out for you more. Shinsou couldn’t endure the idea that you’d go back to working for your ‘friend’ after all you two had been through. But he also couldn’t trust you anymore not to do it. With him closer, it would be easier for you to only have eyes for him as well, right?

Helping you into your coat, he took your hand as he led you out of the room, turning off the light and closing the door. It was quiet between you until you stepped into the elevator, Shinsou pressing the button for the garage. When the doors closed, your lifeless stare turned into tears, your mind overcome with all that just happened.

However, Shinsou was quicker.

Pushing you into the corner of the elevator, he closed off your lips with his, you two sharing another passionate kiss while the tears dripped off your cheeks. “You don’t have to worry about a thing,” he finally muttered as he released you. Sobs erupted from your mouth, but Shinsou merely wiped away the tears from the corners of your eyes tenderly. “You’ll see, if you stick with me, everything will be alright. You and I - we’ll be unstoppable!”

Perhaps, this wouldn’t make you happy, but Shinsou sure felt good as he finally conveyed his feelings to you. He should have said it way earlier, but now the time was as good as any. “I like you, [Name],” he confessed. “Just rely on me from now on, please only give your attention to me and no one else, okay? No other hero needs you as much as I do! Promise, and then, I’ll forgive you.”

To his surprise, you didn’t need more convincing as you uttered a quiet, exhausted, “Okay,” in between your sobs. They stopped after just a few more tears dripping from your cheeks, almost as if he had used his quirk on you again. But no, this was reality, a promise made between you two without any influences. Shinsou kissed you again, tenderly this time, and it tasted like salt because of your tears, but it still was the most genuine affection he could gain from you. Maybe something inside of you clicked since you now knew it was useless going against him. Now that he had used his quirk on you, he wouldn’t hold back on doing it again if needed. So even if it was all just pretending that everything was fine and this terrible night never happened, the less you resisted, the easier it would be for you two, and the more Shinsou could pretend that it was love keeping you by his side. 

And love was all that he wanted, even if he had to control it with all his might.

[dreadwulf]

1. It Was There That I Saw You

He hears it over the radio that first time. 

“The Blue Angel is down.”

One of those crummy broadcasting setups that still run out of universities sometimes. Ancient amateur stations he picks up on the road while trying to plot out a route to the family compound around the Others. They announce sightings sometimes, rather like weather reports, or traffic updates. Undead on Highway 11, detour recommended.

The roads are clear that evening, and the drive is as quiet and peaceful as a biodiesel vehicle can manage, except for the news on the radio.

"The Blue Angel is down, and our world grows a little bit colder and darker," the radio man says.

Jaime switches off the receiver. He shakes his head slightly as he drives the ungainly armored car along the winding road, peering into the dusk without headlights. The radio man doesn’t know the Blue Angel. He’s some punk kid, was probably at uni when the Others first attacked and hasn’t ventured outside since. That’s who still broadcasts these days, old student outfits barricaded inside their campuses. This kid doesn’t know the Blue Angel’s name, probably doesn’t even know she's a woman. He will pay him no mind.

But he leaves the radio off for the rest of the journey.

At the Rock he pulls the car into the oversized garage and erects the usual gates and barriers behind him to keep the Others out. These precautions he can do in his sleep now, and he hardly has to think on them. He is more fortunate than most, now - living in a walled compound in a walled city offers a stability most people no longer have, one that would have been unheard of not very long ago. It gives him a more uneventful life, even some creature comforts. It's also, in his opinion, dreadfully boring. Which is why he never stays for long.

His thoughts pivot around the voice on the radio. The Blue Angel. He gave her that name, years ago, before anyone knew her at all. When it was just the two of them on the Kingsroad, and she was hardly more than a kid herself. Does the kid on the radio know that? No, he assuredly does not. The kid on the radio doesn’t know anything. 

His brother Tyrion will have heard the news elsewhere. He doesn’t listen to radio, wouldn’t have any reason to since he never leaves the compound. But he has his own sources.

His brother is the second person to tell him, when Jaime walks into the front office loosening his tie. As expected, Tyrion’s still working - it would be either that or reading, even when the house goes dark. Their generator only runs a few hours a day, and his brother keeps right on working by lamplight when the time’s up. 

Tyrion has taken over the family business, as well as the mansion and all its high walls. That happened after the rest of the family had been wiped out, while Jaime had been away. Ironic that he had survived them all, considering he had been essentially left to die when the Others came. Like many of the sick and disabled, there had not been much provision for his physical difficulties as a little person and he had been left to fend for himself. Anyone who couldn’t defend themselves was SOL in that first year. How he had even gotten himself home from uni is a bit of a mystery to Jaime. By the time Jaime managed to get himself there, his brother was already gone, and it had taken them a very long time to find one another again. 

It had been his brother’s cleverness helped him survive, not his big brother, to both of their disappointment. Said cleverness certainly keeps them in business now.

Tyrion probably hasn’t looked up from his ledgers in hours, but he looks up when Jaime comes in, and keeps looking.

“Blue Angel’s down,” Tyrion mentions casually, but he is watching him closely.

“So they say.” Jaime whirls off his long coat and throws it over a chair. He has to sit right across from Tyrion to get within the circle of lamplight.

His brother’s mind works just a little bit faster than other people’s. The software he runs on is a little bit sharper, and before you can quite get a statement out, he is already replying. He gets bored of the formality of all these extra words and niceties. He doesn’t quite realize how obnoxious this is. As a result, Jaime never needs to say much. Tyrion will have most of the conversation without him.

“You don’t believe them,” Tyrion surmises, pushing his papers aside. An ill-fitting pair of glasses slides down the end of his scarred nose, and he has to catch them before they can fall off. Even Lannisters have troubles with eyewear these days. “I know you think she’s indestructible.”

“Near indestructible.” Insolently, Jaime puts his feet up on his brother’s nice mahogany desk, which used to be their father’s nice mahogany desk. Something about this room makes him act like a rebellious teenager. “It will take more than an amateur disk jockey passing on rumors to convince me.”

“True, rumors have been wrong before. I’ve heard that you were dead too, when you rode the Kingsroad.”

They don’t speak much of that time. Tyrion hated that Jaime abandoned the family to serve as a glorified mailman for five years, as he calls it. Escorting people and messages across the dangerous countryside in the early days of the Disaster might have made his name, and eventually added to the family’s renown, but this personal betrayal his brother has never forgiven. What he really hates, of course, is that Jaime left him alone with their father. 

Jaime lets it pass, jokes with him. “I probably started that rumor myself, at least once.”

“Don’t let this distract you,” he says. Tyrion’s mismatched eyes go back to his ledgers meaningfully. “Running Lannisport is enough work, without you running off all the time. We’re trying to bring the Riverlands into the fold. I need you on task, not obsessing over a girl.”

Jaime snorts. Tyrion can hardly lecture him on distractions. Little he may be, he has no trouble acquiring female companionship. He seems to have a different lady on his arm every time Jaime comes around. Sometimes two. 

Tyrion rolls his eyes. “Don’t start. My girls are different. I’m not mooning around after them years after they’re gone. When I lose one, I find another. You need another woman, Jaime.”

“With me running off all the time? Who’s going to tolerate that?” Jaime is bored of this conversation already. They’ve had it many times before. 

“Romantics. That’s who. You’re off risking your life to join the old nation together again, you’re a dashing hero. Plus the whole Kingsroad adventure. Women love that. You could be swimming in girls if you spared them half a glance. It’s been five years, Jaime.” 

“Four,” Jaime corrects him. Four years, three months, and eleven-or-so days. 

Tyrion says this more solemnly, looking over his glasses, “If the rumor isn’t true this time, someday it will be.”

He looks very much like their father when he does that, which is unwelcome. Jaime snatches his feet off the desk and wanders away to find something to eat, the big Lannister mansion resounding emptily around him. 

He manages to avoid his brother until he can head out again - he rarely passes more than a night at a time in this house. He checks for messages, refills his supplies, gets a proper shower, all of which he can do in a few hours. Such safety he finds oddly uncomfortable, if he lingers too long. He’ll be leaving the next day, and out the door before Tyrion is even out of his bed. 

The traveling, on the other hand, takes an age. Not even he travels very fast these days. The armored car, which is more of a delivery truck, doesn’t get over 50kph, and shudders and lurches at the upper end. Real petrol might perk up his engine, but petrol is rare these days, and he can refuel the biodiesel at most settlements now. So he drives slowly and is on the road almost constantly, and stops at Casterly Rock as infrequently as he can manage. 

Soon Jaime is hearing the same rumor everywhere, in snatches. He travels through the guarded and gated villages of the Riverlands on a regular circuit, drives through miles of nothing between aettlements, edging around clusters of Others that still live beyond the city lights. As he exchanges goods, messages, and information, he hears of the Blue Angel. Edges of conversation, news bulletins, idle conversation with gasoline sellers. His hosts at Pennytree gossip over it at dinner while passing around the green beans.

Did you hear about the Blue Angel? Damn shame. 

Jaime always agrees wordlessly. People still like to feed him, remembering his own time guarding the Kingsroad in the beginning of the new era. He hasn’t been the Slayer in four years, has been a politician-cum-envoy for far longer than he ever battled the Others, but he is far better known still for the former. Arguing with his hosts would be pointless. He just finishes his meal, salvaged canned goods heated over a campfire out back. In those early days, this would have been a feast. It’s still pretty good now. Vegetables are more and more scarce.

No one seems to know exactly what happened. He hears a few variations on it; the tale is different each time. Turned by the Others, haunting the Kingsroad where once she had been its protector. Crushed in the fall of a skyscraper in the Eyrie. Slain in battle protecting a school full of orphans from robbers. The details are in debate, but there is a consistent center. The Blue Angel is dead. It's a rumor still, but one with all the authority of the old King’s Landing Times newspaper, of truth. Everyone is sure.

But they don’t know her. Not like Jaime did. If they knew her they would not believe it so easily. They would need evidence. They would need a body, a grave. Otherwise it's just not realistic that she could be gone. He is not worried. He’s not.

Tyrion passes on the same news the next time he’s at the house. No particulars, but the same word from his own channels of information. No one knows how, but the Blue Angel is dead. 

Jaime has little patience for it now. Without any details, it’s still only a rumor. A remarkably consistent one, to be sure. But not enough to know for certain. He doesn’t even stop in the office, claiming exhaustion, avoiding conversation. 

Tyrion finds him anyway. 

“If you really wanted to know, you could ask The Spider.” His brother suggests late one night, startling him awake. “He could give you the whole story.”

Jaime had been dozing in an armchair in his own study, unwilling to go to bed and too tired to stay awake. He rubs at his left eye and yawns. “What time is it? You’re the only person I know who still wears a wristwatch.”

Tyrion looks worried. He stands there a long time waiting for him to answer.

“I don’t want to know,” Jaime mumbles sleepily. “Really I don’t.”

“Try to get some sleep, Jaime.”

In the bathroom mirror he has a few more gray hairs than before, visible even in candlelight. Before long there will be more gray than blond. He pulls them out one at a time. 

It’s too bad he can’t pluck the laugh lines away from his eyes the same way. He hasn’t laughed in a long time now. They feel unearned.

Everywhere he goes for a week solid, it's a funeral. Holly branches along the road, and stray, somehow-preserved flowers. Bars full of black coated mourners, drinking morosely.

It irritates him. Makes him grind his teeth. He shouldn’t resent these people. He knows it’s irrational to feel this way. But what do they know? How dare they mourn? What have they lost? A legend, a leader, a hero? They don’t know the woman behind the stories. She is so much more than that. 

For some reason it is the graffiti that finally gets to him. Seeing it written gives it permanence. Someone felt the need to document this, on a building, for all to see. First in an alley in Riverrun - written in an electric blue that seems to float over the dull brick of the building. “Blue Angel RIP,” it says, and it sears into Jaime’s vision. He sees it every time he closes his eyes. 

Before long the makeshift walls around Raventree are covered in mismatched sprays of blue, the neat and professional swoops of seasoned graffiti artists alongside the amateur efforts of random passers by, all offering their tributes. At the center of them all is a portrait, as detailed as an oil painting rendered in spray paint, of the Blue Angel’s long cloaked form standing over smaller figures in protection. She’s holding her favorite weapon, a solid titanium baseball bat. 

He stares at this portrait for a long time. It’s very good. She must have passed this way at some point. You can’t see her face, but she mostly keeps it covered anyway. This artist captures the way she stands, the gesture of her long, elegant fingers. This artist saw her, at least once, for certain.

It’s so strange. All of these people feel like they know her, that she belongs to them. And it’s true in a way. The Blue Angel belongs to everyone, she really does. But Brienne... Brienne belongs to a very few, if anyone, and if anyone then he is certainly one of them. And he knows she cannot possibly be dead. He knows it.

He stares at the graffiti portrait until his vision blurs and he can’t see anything anymore.

Jaime cuts off the rest of his circuit after that. Drives back to the Rock, as slowly and deliberately as ever, always watching for Others that he could be leading to the compound. In the house he stays only an hour. Packs a small bag and leaves the keys to the car on Tyrion’s desk, along with all his dossiers on the Riverlands, and his appointment book. 

Then he takes out his motorbike and drives it across the Riverlands, wastes precious petrol cruising the old highways dodging the snarls of abandoned cars. Tries to outrun the news. The wind blasts through him like a cold knife. He uses up one of his few remaining chargeables to get an mp3 player playing again, painfully loud, the heaviest music he can find. Hailstorms of guitar riffs assaulting him through the earpiece. He rides until his face is numb from wind and his nerves are rattled and brittle.

The Spider’s lair moves between rest stops these days. King’s Landing is still too dangerous, overrun with Others, and he likes to be off the map. Jaime checks a dozen highway offramps before he comes across the black RVs he is looking for.

He leaves the bike some distance away, as is the custom. The sound of a motorbike will bring Others running from miles away, and it’s impolite to lead zombies to people’s front door. Jaime walks the last mile in darkness, quiet as he can. He should have brought more weapons than a single pistol. He didn’t really think this through. But if the Others came to investigate the bike, he does not encounter them walking south, and before long the pavement opens out into a runaway truck ramp and a parking lot, and he can feel eyes on him from the line of trees beyond.

The Spider’s gang greets him with guns cocking, friendly as always. Black leather gargoyles. When they emerge from the shadows into the moonlight, Jaime puts his hands up and drops down to his knees. He waits for them to decide whether he can approach or if he has to move on and try again another night. He doesn’t hear them talking, but they communicate somehow, silently. He’s determined, over the years, that they use some kind of hand signals, but he’s never caught them doing it. 

The mobile home is painted black, and it’s almost invisible in the night. The Spider doesn’t take visitors in the daytime. The gun at his back pokes him directly up to the door.

On the inside, the trailer is flooded with fluorescent lighting of the kind rarely seen anymore. After years of lanterns and lamps, it looks otherworldly. Dreamlike. The Spider, in his silk robe, seems to gleam in the artificial light, reclining on his cushion-covered couch.

“Slayer,” he says mildly, gestures for Jaime to sit in a chair opposite him. “It’s been some time. What brings you to--”

“If you know anything,” Jaime tells him flatly, staying where he is just inside the door, “you know why I am here.”

Varys looks at him with cool, calculating assessment. His bald head shines thoughtfully.

“I do. But do sit down, you’re upsetting my birds.” In their cages all around the room, crows shudder and caw. Their black eyes stare unblinkingly at the intruder. The bald little man gestures again to a cushioned seat welded into the trailer.

Jaime acquiesces only enough to take a few steps further into the trailer, standing over the Spider’s chaise lounge. Varys shrugs him off, not remotely threatened. He smiles up from his comfortable position as though it’s a deck chair at a beach, and Jaime is there to take his drinks order.

“That is a fine prosthetic you have there. I would never have known, if I didn’t know everything. The color is perfect, just perfect. Which one is it, right or left?"

The Spider doesn’t really expect him to answer. He knows that Jaime has kept a tight lid on that detail, so far. There are certainly people out there in the world who know for certain, and he will surely find out eventually, but the Spider has not gotten any of them to talk just yet. He will fish for the information just the same. It’s a reflex, at this point. 

"Where in the world did you get it? I didn’t think they made things like this anymore, not to custom. But you’re a wealthy man again, aren’t you? Even after Armageddon, Lannisters stay rich.” The spider shows a sliver of teeth. “You would think that money and influence would mean nothing in the new world, but it isn’t so. We simply deal in different currencies now. Your brother realized that faster than most. Clever man.”

Jaime remains standing. 

The Spider’s fingers drum his seat warily. “I, of course, recall how you helped me to escape King’s Landing. Have you come to call in this debt?”

“Is she dead?” He spits out the words like he will not taste their poison if he is rid of them quickly enough.

Varys hesitates. Just for a moment, but it is enough to make Jaime blanch well ahead of his answer.

“Yes. Without a doubt.”

Jaime’s throat tightens around the word. “How?”

“How else? The Others.”

Jaime takes one more breath, and chokes on it. He can’t get any more words out. 

He turns and slaps his palms against the door of the trailer so that it bangs open and he is out into the freezing night again, running, past the blurry borders of the rest-stop and into proper forest, and when he cannot run anymore he drops to his hands and knees in the mud and opens his mouth and wails until he has no voice left. 

His fists beat into the earth as though he can make it give her back.

When there’s nothing left inside him he gets up. Stumbles unseeing back through the forest. Raw and shaking, he pushes through Varys’ honor guard of former bikers, back into the Spider’s Lair.

Varys has not moved since he left him. He watches Jaime drop down into the chair opposite him as though it were only moments since he gave his terrible answer. 

“Would you like to ask for your boon now?” the Spider asks. 

“Yes.” Jaime leans forward. “I need weapons.”

***

Let me hold you in my arms dear

And let me melt in the heat of your gaze

And let the clock strike one,

Time and mind go marching on

Let our sense of selves decay

It was there that I saw you

In the heat of a summer's embrace

But as time went on

I wondered what went wrong

I wondered what became of you

“It Was There That I Saw You”, ...And You Will Know Us By The Trail of Dead

[kayr0ss]

Hands that Remember [AO3 Link]

[Horizon Zero Dawn, Elisabet Sobeck Lives, Found Family, Mother-Daughter Feelings, GAIA is recovering, Ereloy]

Summary: Aloy saw the recordings, felt their grief over the death of their culture - the loss of their identity. Ted Faro had blown away the light meant to guide humanity through darkness - but she was willing to risk it all to take it back. To bring APOLLO back.  It wasn't the first time that the world asked her for a miracle, but it bargained with a miracle of its own: This time - she didn't have to do it alone.

[Wherein Elisabet Sobeck returns, GAIA is recovering, Erend is done waiting around, and Aloy discovers a family she's never had before to help lift the weight of the world off her shoulders.]

---

Chapter 1: Resurfacing

It was endless.

The dust and sand reminded him of the canyons north of Meridian—but it seemed harsher.  Endless, expansive. Flat. He’d lost sight of All-Mother Mountain days ago and soon even the icy northern peaks of the Cut had fallen behind the horizon. All that was around him were rocks and packed earth.

Clouds of dust rose from under his footsteps, caught in a wind swooping over from further west. He wondered if they would reach the end of the world before the end of this desert. Did it just… stop? Was there an edge where everything ceased to be, a void down below ready to consume anything unfortunate enough to travel just a bit too far?

He grunted at his thoughts. Way too poetic. Been hanging around too many Carja these days—and not enough ale to drown out all the needless chatter.

What was Aloy doing out here anyway?

Still, he pressed on with gritted teeth, pulling up the fabric of his scarf above his nose. There was shelter up ahead. The faint purple glow he was following led him straight down its path: a ruin of the Old Ones full of rusting metal and crumbling rock. There were a few trees in the vicinity, tall and shooting straight up from the ground as though they were arrows.

“Must’ve taken shelter here,” he grumbled to himself.

It was a short trek to reach the threshold of the ruins. There was an archway holding a dilapidated sign, looking as if a strong kick to the base would be enough to knock it over. For a minute he entertained the thought, but what for?

A pile of metal junk lies near the perimeter of the building—one of those rectangular containers, similar to those dumped by the Old Ones in the scrapyard near Free Heap. The building itself was covered in vines and… flowers? That’s when he noticed the grass by his feet. It was lush and green, much like in the Embrace, and where plant life thrives it means—

“Water.”

He picked up his pace, falling into a jog. The journey had taken a toll on him. He was glad to have kept some empty water skins on hand—a fresh refill and his store of dried meats would be more than enough to last him the walk back. It was a small comfort against the mounting restlessness that clawed at the back of his mind, the feeling that he was never going to catch up with her at the rate he was going. He wondered if he’d tracked Aloy down this far west only to have her meet him on the road—already on the way back.

At least he hoped she was. Coming back, that is. He shook his head. Not the best time to think about that.

Further inspection revealed no machines in sight. Odd. Did Aloy clear the way already? Or was there something else, something that kept them away? The thought was unnerving, but he kept his hammer stowed away at his back. Couldn’t pick up any threats, anyway. No mines either, he nodded to himself. Stalkers could be ruled out.

He looked up towards the building. It was worn down, only the haunting twisted metal of its skeleton left standing, rubble littered at the base. “Probably fed a whole thunderjaw into a forge to build this one.” He chortled. “Great. Now I’m talking to myself. Right. Water.”

He followed the way to a patch where the growth was thicker. “Huh.” He paused, frowning. There were purple flowers arranged in a triangle too perfect to be natural. Some sort of stone seating structure was in the center and—

“Fire and spit!” he sputtered out, war-hammer pulled at the ready while he awkwardly regained his footing after nearly tripping. For some reason, even in the heat of battle he decided he didn’t want to step on the violet blooms that seemed so dainty and beautiful.

Was that… a person?

His frown deepened, brows knitting together as he looked over some sort of machine suit. It reminded him of the material Aloy had crafted over standard Nora leathers. He gently prodded at the suit with the end of his hammer’s grip. No movement. The overgrowth consuming it was an indication that it’d been sitting there for, well, a while.

He stepped in a little closer, laying a hand along the suit’s shoulder to dust it away. Cold. He recoiled.

Cold as death.

For a second or two he considered scavenging the strange machine-suit for parts, but quickly dismissed the thought when he realized there might be someone… inside. He stepped back, putting down his hammer. Oseram were delvers, not grave robbers.

I should probably go. He rubbed at the back of his neck, feeling intrusive and out of place, but one last look over the suit made him shake his head. Was this their home? He tried to imagine what the ruins might have looked before. Like Meridian, perhaps?

The person looked peaceful. Content. But it looked like a lonely way to go.

“You, uh…” he set a heavy gloved hand on the suit’s shoulder. “Have a good rest.”

The stillness didn’t last for very long. As he lifted his hand a cloud of cold, frigid gas began to leak from the small slits along the suit’s shoulders and joints.

The focus Aloy gifted him began to buzz, in sync with the deep onset of frantic panic at the pit of his stomach. By the forge did he break something? He stumbled backwards, hand coming up to tap his focus. Purple lights sprung to life—a spattering of odd blinking symbols and words that were enough to disorient him. Circles of light hovered highlighted portions of the suit, bringing up numbers and flashing words—counting down with urgency.

[WARNING:  Ultraweave Terrestrial Suit Atmospheric Seal Compromised]

"Seal?" What was that supposed to mean? He frowned. Too sober for this.

A disembodied voice buzzed into his ear—eerie and inhuman, like how the Shadow Carja’s god HADES sounded, except not quite as threatening. A woman’s voice.

[Ultraweave Terrestrial Suit Oxygen Supply—Depleted. Ultraweave Terrestrial Suit Potable Liquid Tank—Depleted]

There was a chilling pause.

[External Personnel Detected. Assessment: User of FAS Standard-Issue FOCUS Unit Number ZERO-ONE-ONE-THREE - Assistance Required. Please attend to personnel within UTS Unit Zero-Alpha-Psi.]

“What am I—?!” He looked around in a panic, feeling out of his element. Was it talking to him? This was the sort of thing Aloy was good at! “What am I supposed to do?!”

[Please attend to personnel within UTS Unit Zero-Alpha-Psi.]

“You already said that.” He grumbled back, frustrated. Does that mean this thing—this…Old One—was still alive? Upon closer inspection he could see it: frost crawling out of the vents. Cold. Still as cold as death.

He couldn’t believe it. Frozen in time.

[Stand-by for assisted reanimation.]

He reached out towards the blinking lights across the rectangular badge on the suit’s odd chest plate. It responded to his touch with purple lights blinking into living words floating across his fingertips. He gasped.

He recognized that name.

[Disengaging Cryostasis Protocol. Stand-by for assisted reanimation. Projection: ninety-three minutes to thermal homeostasis.]

--

“Captain, what happened?”

Voices. Too far away. Or were they nearby? Damn. She couldn’t tell. Couldn’t even open her eyes. It was cold. So fucking cold—colder than Nevada had any right to be.

“Get blankets! Anything! Beladga, got any shirts you can spare?”

Why was everyone in a panic? Had she fallen asleep in the control center? Huh. She didn’t recall Travis sounding nearly as gruff as that.

Travis? The others—

She… she had a job to do. A mission. What was it? Everything felt distant—disconnected. She vaguely realized she that she was shivering but why? She tried to call out but realized that she was physically unable to speak, her throat feeling dry as sandpaper. Coughing erratically, she noticed that she was partially intubated with a sort of breathing apparatus.

[Seventeen minutes to thermal homeostasis. Please prepare for disengagement of auxiliary respirator.]

An automated voice was buzzing into her ear through her focus. She could feel her senses turning, along with the slight mobility of her limbs. It seems she was being carried—or rather, being laid down onto something soft. There were footsteps. Movements. The voices were hushed, secretive and confused. There was a soft yellow light through the ambiguous blur of color that swam around her vision.

[Auxiliary respirator disengaging.]

The machinery abruptly detached the mask from her nose and mouth. The sudden brightness made her recoil, her face feeling exposed. She fell into a fit of violent coughing—as if she had forgotten how to breathe. It was painful. God, it fucking sucked.

“Take it easy now,” said the voice from earlier. It was a man. He—He was speaking with her through his own voice. How is that possible? No one could survive out here without a suit. The atmosphere was too—

A sudden wave of nausea overcame her.

Memories of her last excursion came flooding back: the bunker door failing to seal. Her last transmission to the Alphas. Project Zero Dawn. GAIA—the Swarm!

Coming home.

Dying.

I’m supposed to be dead.

“I—” she rasped out, voice hoarse and jagged. Panicked.

“Whoa there,” there was a steady hand on her shoulder, helping her turn to her side. She felt something press against her mouth almost forcefully. “Drink this.”

“We got to get her out of that suit, captain.” There was another voice, female this time.

“I think—” the captain, she assumed, replied “—I think we need to wait a few more minutes. The device is telling me that—”

Everything was fading into black again.

--

“—else to go follow her trail, or just hope she comes back. She has to… she needsto see this. I just… Oh. She’s awake, I think.”

There was some shuffling. Once again, she was offered water. It was sweet this time. Did they mix in sugar? She tried to ask but she was so, so tired and…

--

Sobeck Journal, 1-27-66

I wasn’t going to see any of it anyway.

Best I can do is hope, I guess. The landscape is barren now – I’m kind of glad the other Alphas don’t have to see it this close up. Stings. I’m half-expecting to hear Patrick patch me in via holo, asking why I haven’t dragged my feet to the conference hall for the scheduled status briefing. He’ll take good care of the younger kids, him and Charles both. ZD and the Swarm seem so small and faraway now that I’m walking away from it all. Quite literally. Hauled my ass all the way to Nevada.

Glad mom isn’t around to see the ranch like this. When I close my eyes I can almost imagine it: the tall pine trees, the grass. Maybe I’ll get to see things the way they were before on the other side… wherever that might be.

I’m tired.

Time to rest.

--

She woke up with a jolt.

“Hey.

He was still there, sitting on the ground across from her and looking just as confused as she was. Her vision was clearer now—and every detail she managed to catalogue drove a spike of panic and confusion deeper into the hollow of her chest. They were in a leather tent lit by a small gasoline lamp in the corner. They seemed to be in the outskirts of an encampment, faraway enough to not be disturbed.

“I’m guessing this is freaking you out a little.” He scratched at the back of his head, unable to meet her eyes. He pointed to a waterskin laid down beside her bedroll. “Maybe get some more water in before you speak? I’ve got some dried meats too. I’m guessing you haven’t eaten in… a while.”

On the matter of guesses, she had a vague idea what might be going on. It was equal parts terrifying and exciting and a hundred percent something she did notask for.

She had an unfortunately stellar track record for hypothesizing, though. Chances of her guess being wrong were dreadfully slim. The cold. The scenery. Even the clinical tone and instructions of her Ultraweave Suit’s reanimation module—a system she helped develop herself, back when the prospect of sleeping through the disaster was considered an option.

It wasn’t. Not consistent enough to use en masse—not enough foresight to secure species continuity.

She took a drink of water, willing to steel her nerves before panic caught up with her executive faculties. She needed to orient herself with wherever it was she woke up in. Hell, forget where, the real question is—

“When… is it?”

He blinked. “Uh, today?”

“What year is it?”

The man’s expression softened—a look that didn’t quite fit with the rest of his character. He was big. Towering—even while seated on the floor—with broad shoulders and a figure strong enough to walk around with enough steel to build a car door, apparently. “You sound so much like her.”

“I don’t follow.” She pinched the bridge of her nose, feeling a headache coming along. She needed to eat.

“Sorry I—” he scratched at his beard. “It’s the reign of the 14th Sun-King, Avad the Liberator.”

Kings? Again?

“I’m Erend, captain of the King’s vanguard.”

He paused.

“You’re Aloy’s mother, aren’t you?”

-

fin

-

A/N: I'd like to acknowledge Tototops for doing an amazing job beta-reading this! It's always a pleasure, and my writing is always pushed to grow better with every suggestion and correction you help me with. x) And to my friends Sleepy, @theguardiandragon1, @saltypyrotato, @tanuki-pyon and Fridge for listening to my HZD manic fever ramblings and helping me make sense of the plot I had in mind.

Just finished the game about two weeks ago and read a bunch of fanfic. I consumed Writerly's Second Dawn (which is absolutely amazing!!!!), which is my foremost inspiration for even attempting to write fanfic of this wonderful franchise. I base a lot of my characterizations and format of story telling in this fic from their work, and hope to do so in a way which is still true to the unique plot I've set for it. I am very excited to be trying something new and to learn and get better along the way. Hope you all enjoy. :)

[justawanderingbabbit]

I'm making up stuff again for a plot hole in one of my fandoms. But, really, who told Xu Lei to put an interesting concept into his stories then (apparently?) do little with it?

More on the Green Eyed Fox Spirit under the cut. Warning, I get windy on my obsessions. (From here on, I'm going to call them qingyan huli, though I may have the Chinese wrong(1))

(1) Feel free to correct me as to what the Chinese term actually is in the books. I failed to learn my mother's language properly and have to struggle with dictionaries to get where I want to be.

In the first Lost Tomb series, the gang come across the corpse of a qingyan huli.

Uncle Sanxing tells Wu Xie that qingyan huli do something to those who find their bodies that means the next child they father will end up with green eyes and that they mess with people's heads and cause delusions.

So far, I've found nothing else about the creatures in either mythology or the Grave Robbers canon. Well, except for a qingyan huli corpse hanging around in Tomb of the Sea's 'computer' room.

So, because I'm given to making stuff up and because this may matter in my future fanfic, here's my theory about what these beasties actually do.

First off, it's clear there's more than one qingyan huli around in the Lost Tomb universe. They dispose of the first one back in the first series and as far as I know, he's never mentioned again. That means the one in Tomb of the Sea isn't likely to be the same being. He doesn't look exactly the same, either, but this is DMBJ and consistency isn't an option.

Therefore, for the purposes of my fanfic; qingyan huli have three stages. The first is where they're basic fox spirits cultivating into human form. Unlike the classic huli jing, however, they're always male and can't reproduce with their cousins.

The second stage is when they're able to turn human. At this point they can reproduce with humans and often do so. The resulting children are mostly human with a rare case of a new qingyan huli being born.

During the second stage, a qingyan huli can survive mortal injuries by transforming to their fox form. This sets them back cultivationally but they usually recover fairly quickly. If they don't transform, however, they're forced into the next stage.

In third stage, the qingyan huli's mortal body fails to recover from whatever death blow ended it. Either they got too old or they weren't able/willing to change to a fox to survive. (Generally the former). Depending on their physical age at the time, they're psychically strong, even if they can't move around anymore. (Lich? Demi-lich?)

At this point, if they want to try to get stronger, they can pass their spiritual essence on, choosing a human male to engender their next body.

This means the green-eyed child mentioned by Uncle Sanxing is the next mortal form of the deceased qingyan huli. What's passed on are memories and spiritual essence, leaving the resulting child to have to cope with both their new life and whatever bits and pieces they remember from the last.

If raised properly, the qingyan huli child will be mostly decent, if a bit of a trouble maker (because fox). If raised roughly, well, garbage in, garbage out.

Further note for the fanfic universe. The qingyan huli encountered in the Wang compound isn't the oldest or strongest of his kind. That one's still out there, still causing trouble and will probably cause more trouble in the future.