#in my mind he was a fae before he was a watcher

[scatterbrainedart]

The avian Grian headcanon is great and lovely, but I cannot draw wings. And so instead of learning how to do that, I went a little silly. Fae Grian is so real and true to me

[boolger]

I’m dangerous ☆ chapter 7 ☆ COD fanfic

Originally posted on my AO3, where I post all my stuff. Always read the tags of my fanfics. MDNI

[Chapter 1] ☆ [chapter 2] ☆ [chapter 3] ☆ [chapter 4] ☆ [chapter 5] [chapter 6] ☆ [Chapter 7] ☆ [chapter 8]

☆ fem!reader x Kate Laswell ☆ explicit. MDNI. ☆ 7/10 ☆ 2,936 words

☆ Summary: You were a hacker and had been a thorn in the side of the 141 gang for a while, in particular as you tried to find out who the famous leader, Watcher, was. But they refuse to be blackmailed and won’t pay you.

So, to prove that you weren’t just bluffing, but were a serious threat to them, you kidnapped a random woman that you saw coming out from one of their meetings, figuring she was a secretary or girlfriend or something.

Oh, how wrong you were.

☆ Tags: au mob, gang, kidnapping, blackmailing, dub-con, angst, smut, death, grief/mourning, hacking, non-con drug use, bondage, spanking, kissing, rough sex, inaccurate portrayal of mob, suicidal thoughts, mention of blood, violence, more will be added

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The man who walked in was staring at Kate. He was 5’8, with an athletic build and short hair - the details were getting muddled in the darkness. There was only very little light from the hallway, shining in, illuminating the back of the man.

As he pulled his gun and it came into view, your mind felt like it was going to explode.

He was here to kill Kate.

He was here to kill Kate.

He -

Kate.

“Finally I have you, Watcher-“ the main whispered, making panic rise, watching him unlock the safety on the gun, “finally I can—“

You moved out of panic.

It wasn’t that you couldn’t see the temptation of just letting him shoot Kate, step backwards into the bathroom and let him take care of it. You wouldn’t be involved in it, whoever this psycho was. 

Yet, you still moved.

This time you didn’t have a taser, you didn’t have any drugs, hell you barely had a plan. The plan you had was so vague that you were impressed it worked in the seconds it took you to complete it.

Romeo and Juliet was a classic. It had been reinterpreted and recreated over and over again, in so many different ways and in many different mediums, but you had always been fond of the written versions.

In a way you wished you could remember one of the more iconic lines from it, but despite reading it at least once a year, your mind had been poisoned by the years of coding and hacking, from the stress of the last couple of days.

You threw the hardcover book directly at the man who barely managed to say anything before it collided with his face, all the dramatic scenes inside it making him stumble, falling over your laptop abandoned on the floor - and for that moment and that moment only, you felt dangerous.

With a couple of fast steps and quick hands, you pulled the gun out of his hand, flinching as it got off - but you threw it away and picked up what you could always trust.

Your book.

Written words printed on paper couldn't be hacked or changed, not like when it was on the screen.

There was movement around you and you felt pain as the man beneath you struggled, screaming bloody murder as you sat on his chest and just repeatedly slammed your book into his face, feeling his nose crunch one of the times. You might as well have hit him with your fear of emotional attachment.

Light turned on, voices, gunshots, yelling, screaming. 

You were hurting someone, you realised in terror, not to kidnap or in self defence - but because he threatened a mob boss you had somehow found yourself close to.

Violence was never the answer yet you didn’t give a shit, as you slammed Romeo and Juliet onto his face once more, full force.

You were the one screaming you realised, in anger and panic at the same time, as a pair of strong hands pulled you off the intruder, the book ripped from your hand, blood smeared onto the pages. Bleeding into the already tragic words of the story.

“Hey hey hey - It’s alright, Fae,” Gaz’s hands were on your cheeks, the man you had found annoying mere hours before, were suddenly like a beacon in the dark, grounding you and ripping you from the odd nightmare of your mind, “it’s okay, we got him.”

Everything went blurry for a moment, then unblurry - and then you saw Ghost and Price pull out the man you had attacked, pissed themselves, but clearly not at you. They disappeared out of the room and you blinked, Gaz in front of your face again.

“Fae what happened?” He asked, still holding onto your cheeks, maybe to calm you, maybe to make you stop shaking. You weren’t sure, but you felt out of air, just like when you ran away. 

Fear rushing through you for what you had just done.

“Fae - c’mon, speak tae us, lassie,” Soap was there too, brows furrowed, “it’s over now.”

“He - he - I went to the bathroom - and he was there - with a gun - pointed at Ka-Kate oh god is Kate okay, is Kate—“ tears were welling up in your eyes without your permission, fear rushing through you once more at the thought of Kate being killed before you could do anything; it made you want to throw up and you might as well just kill your—

“Sssh, pretty girl,” it was the voice of an Angel, the voice of a goddess, wearing nightclothes and with messy hair, whose pretty fingers pushed away Gaz’ hands, taking their place, “did he say anything, Fae?”

“He - he said finally I have you watcher - and then he aimed the gun at you and I panicked and I threw the book and and—“ 

Kate shushed you gently, leaning forward to rest her forehead against yours.

“Such a good girl,” she whispered and the world stopped spinning while she caressed your cheek, “such a good girl for saving me, thank you.”

Nothing but a whimper was able to leave you, words dying on your tongue, tears welling up once again. You wondered if you looked pathetic, if you should be embarrassed that Soap and Gaz saw this, and heard Kate calling you a good girl.

But you were a good girl once more - even though you didn’t feel particularly good, as you looked down at your bloody hands. Stained, just like all the people around you.

The man turned out to be one Phillip Graves. Another gang leader if you weren’t wrong and you speculated that he was one of the senders of the email interactions. You didn’t want to watch the security footage of him entering the room, even when offered. Your hands still felt dirty, despite having washed them several times. Besides, that still left the mole to be found - but Kate was safe at least. Two guards had died, which you presumed to have been the bump sounds you had heard earlier.

They left you, told you to sleep. To close your eyes and forget everything that just happened.

You didn’t get much sleep that night, despite several people telling you that you were safe.

They all went to deal with Graves and get rid of the bodies of two of his men too, while you laid in Kate’s bed, watching the door.

Waiting for Graves to walk in again..

Constantly hearing the sound of the book connecting with his face. You had broken his nose, split his lip and potentially ruined one of his eyes, they told you. As if you should be proud. The thought made you gag.

Dangerous. You had been dangerous, like you had wanted to seem to Kate at first. But you had never wanted to actually be dangerous, had you? The mere thought of Alice knowing what had happened, made you want to cry.

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It was early morning when Kate reappeared, instantly noticing that you weren’t asleep. Her face softened.

She was dressed differently than earlier, fully in black, hair that had been loose during the night, now pulled back away from her face. You didn’t say anything, your gaze resting on her - she winked at you, barely visible in the dimly lit room, making you huff - then she undressed.

For just a mere moment, you dreamt yourself away into a reality where Kate Laswell weren’t a mobster, merely a business woman or something - that she was your actual partner, coming home from a long shift, to hold you so that the two of you could sleep all night.

Yet, she wasn’t. You watched her walk into the bathroom, only in her bra and panties, turning on the light and hearing her rinse her face - you dared to believe that she wasn’t cleaning off blood. She reappeared just a moment later, hair framing her face, body backlit by the bathroom light. 

The light disappeared before she stepped closer, walking to you in the bed. Her hand was a little cold from the water, but you didn’t mind, leaning into the touch.

“Have you slept at all, Fae?” She asked gently. You shook your head. She climbed the bed, pushing you onto your back and settling in your lap before you could do anything. Kate Laswell was dangerous - you knew,, yet as she straddled you, you wanted to do anything for her. You wanted so badly to be good for her.

One hand rested on the mattress next to your head and the other on your cheek, as she leant over your - your lips meeting, a soft sound leaving you. Was this just… a reward? For having saved her life? You didn’t know, but even if it was, you didn’t mind.

Kissing her was like being dominated. Soft lips and tongue, sharp teeth to remind you who was in control. It sent burning sensations all through you, a whine escaping as her tongue played with yours, your fingers itching to touch her.

“Please,” you managed, as she finally let you breathe, chasing her lips for a moment, finally daring to touch, almost ready to beg her to do something.

“You don’t have to beg, Fae,” she whispered, a dark tone to her voice, “I’ll give you whatever you want.”

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You were crying and squirming, twisting in the handcuffs that made it impossible for you to touch. Legs cramping a little, toes curling as she grabbed your plush thighs even harder, making escape from her warm, clever tongue out of the question.

She had made you come on her tongue and fingers two times already, trying to coach your oversensitive pussy to give you a third orgasm. Switching between fucking your hole with her tongue, sucking and licking your clit.

“Kate, Kateekatekate–” you were pretty sure your moans had stopped making sense after the first orgasm, but the older woman didn’t seem to mind; grinning into your cunt, as if she had found her new favourite thing to do.

Once again she pulled you to the edge of pleasure, teasing your body by offering it to reach the euphoria it earned for - and you were ready for it, so ready that it hurt. Your body tensed once more, a whimper leaving you and and and and –

Kate pulled back. 

A distressed sound left you as you were denied the high, eyes flying open as you moved your head to look down at her, almost coming at the mere sight of her.

Big, dangerous Kate Laswell, the unknown mob boss of the 141 gang, covered in spit and your slick, red in the face, her lips a little swollen - grinning, like a predator that had just been fed and offered extras, resting her head against your thigh.

The sound that escaped you was embarrassing, an almost pornographic, desperate moan at the sight, only making her laugh.

“So sweet, my little hacker,” she crooned darkly, “do you want more, darling?”

“Yesyesmore, please, Kate, miss, please,” the words almost stumbled out of your mouth without any pause, eyelids fluttering shortly as she kissed your thigh for a moment - then further up, towards your exposed, puffy and dripping cunt, the kissing turning into licking. Her tongue traced your stretch marks, a pleased hum leaving her as you continued your desperate words. 

A kiss to your pussy and then… nothing. Kate pulled back, almost making you ready to cry.

“Patience, Fae,” she cooed teasingly at you as you all but hiccuped with despair, “I have more for you.”

Said more, was a strap on with an almost 6 inches long dildo, that was currently bullying its way into you, making you twist and gasp as it stretched you. Despite already being loose from her fingers and mouth, it was different to be filled like this.

“Like this, hm?” she asked darkly, “dirty little thing, hm?”

You nodded, past feeling shameful if it meant she wouldn’t stop.

“Kate,” you gasped, a chuckle leaving her as she finally stilled, fully inside of you.

“I love when you moan my name,” she whispered darkly, grinding even deeper into you, making you wail. It had been a while since you had anything inside you, especially of this size, but Kate was clearly eating up every reaction raw, as if she could survive, only from this.

She fucked you stupid. It was rude words, but you were unable to describe it in any other way, unable to do anything but babble in pleasure, moaning and twisting in the handcuffs binding you to the bed.

Her fingers, all over you, digging into the fat of your thighs or stomach, her lips against yours or licking at your nipples.

Somehow, she made you come twice again. 

When she wanted you to sleep afterwards however, you refused. You might be out of energy, but you suddenly found your tongue, begging her to let you get her off, in any way she wanted. To do you the honour of using you.

She rode your face and you were sure you were in heaven between her strong thighs. Licking, sucking, whatever she demanded you to do. Kate’s fingers buried in your hair, gripping it and using you as if you were nothing but a toy to her.

If you could spend the rest of your life somewhere, it would be between the legs of this woman, worshipping her endlessly, offering Kate as many orgasms as she wanted, bringing her over the edge again and again. You would die happily with your face in her cunt, tasting her juices, letting her soak your face.

You could sleep afterwards, better than you had in a while.

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Confusion overwhelmed your mind for a moment. Your gaze shifted from hers, then to the open gate.

“What?” You were sure you hadn’t heard her correctly, sure that it was some sort of test, to see if you would behave. 

You could see some of the others in the background, but they were like blurry silhouettes too you, the only one who mattered right now was the older woman who looked cold. 

“I told you to leave.” She repeated calmly. She was in one of her suits, looking beautiful and ready for the day. She had gotten you dressed up too, in new clothes, even with shoes on your feet. Which made more sense now.

“Is… Is this a test?” You were unable to hold back the confusion in your tone of voice, brows furrowing as you looked at her. Her eyes somehow seemed more blue today. 

Annoyance flashed on her face. Anger.

“Go home, Fae.” She repeated, slower and darker, almost degradingly, “leave, go home, fuck off. Out.”

Your eyes flickered to the men behind her, but they made no movement, merely watching the two of you. You looked back at Kate, in her sharp suit, hair pulled up, arms crossed and with an emotionless smile. 

“Are you serious?”

There was no hint of glee in your voice. Leave. Fuck off. Out. Did you do something to upset her, you wondered, did you not do well enough with Graves?

Kate nodded, not even bothering to answer your question verbally.

“I-” you wanted so badly to ask about what happened last night, if it was because you were inexperienced, if it was because she hadn’t been able to find the mole - if it was something anything that you could do better, “No - Kate, I don’t - I don’t want to–”

“How many times do I have to say it?” her voice darker, angrier, raising in volume too, “Get the fuck off my property, Fae. Go. Home. I don’t want you, don’t need you. You’ve paid back what you needed to.”

The words made you want to vomit. From anger, sadness, surprise - shame. Was this… all nothing for her? Had this been a payment kind of thing, had she not meant anything? Every sweet word that had dripped from her tongue like honey, every praise and secret, the moments you had laid next to each other in bed, like an odd comfort? 

This wasn’t Kate Laswell. This was Watcher.

You turned around on your heel, walking towards the open gate, wanting to scream, to yell profanities at her, say something mean, something you would regret. You wanted to hit her, merely in the hopes that it meant you could stay, even if it meant punishment.

When did you begin to feel like this?

You stopped, almost out the gate, almost touching the pavement that your feet had touched at your escape attempt, that felt like aeons ago by now. For just a moment, you considered turning around. Letting those words escape you, mean, rude, awful words, just to get a different reaction. Yet your tongue felt limp in your mouth and you knew you would cry.

You wanted to turn, to take a last look at her. 

Instead you took a deep breath. Then you bolted, already knowing the way towards a populated street.

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

There was money in one pocket of the jacket you had been given. Your phone in the other.

The busride home was long and bumpy, but you didn’t care, merely staring out in the air, not even bothering to look at your phone.

Your house was empty, things having been put back to their places after they rummaged around. You just dropped the jacket, picking up mail - abandoning it on the table, ready to go lay down on the mattress you had kept Kate on, for such a short while.

Only to notice the sender of one of the letters.

The hospital.

[alexanderlightweight]

Hi! Have you done a first meeting for the kelpie!au? Would love to see Magnus' first reaction to Alec and realizing he accidentally acquired a partner but definitely wants to keep him

i have!!! here you go i hope you enjoy it

<3 lumine

—

Magnus isn’t sure what has his magic so on edge. So vibrantly agitated that it’s almost impatient in the way it begs his attention but then stalls, as if unsure what to do or where to go.

It’s strange but it’s hardly dangerous, so Magnus ignores it and focuses on finishing his chores.

There’s a dead seelie that requires discreet disposal.  

Magnus isn’t normally one to use the same place too often, but something about the particular lake he portals to has always beckoned to him. Between the fact that the lake is hidden in a naturally made rift and using some rather clever warding magic, the lake has remained undisturbed for decades.

Magnus feels content and welcome in the wild and natural beauty of the very well hidden lake, a feeling that is rare and so all the more valuable.

It’s all the more strange that it's one of the only places that Magnus can consistently dispose of annoyances without worrying about evidence.

Because Magnus has tested it, nothing that he ever gets rid of resurfaces, as if the tranquil lake holds an abyss beneath her waters.

It feels right, to throw the bodies into the stillness of the giant lake and use magic to drag them quickly to the bottom.  Magnus isn’t sure what consumes the bodies, but he knows it’s efficient and that the sprites and fauna thrives off of both the bodies and his magic.

It’s a slow day and his list of necessary things is done, so Magnus summons himself a blanket, takes off his shoes and socks, and dips his toes into the cool, blue shallows.

Magnus takes a moment and just breathes in the wild magic of the air and the scent of shadow lilies that bob in the shallows.

There are little fish that chase the glints of sunlight through the shallows. A few braver ones nibbling shyly at his toes. 

It tickles unexpectedly and Magnus can’t help his reflexive jerk. It scares away the fish and Magnus’ toes catch on a sharp rock with a sting and a little bloom of pink before the water washes it away. 

Magnus heals it without a thought and as the fish return, he lets himself relax back into the warm sun. It takes several minutes for his spine to tense and his instincts flare with alarm and Magnus knows someone is watching him.

There is a very focused presence on him. Magnus’ instincts can feel the intensity and weight of his watcher to his bones.

He opens his eyes slowly, preparing magic and blinks.

There is a very gorgeous, naked fae in front of him. He’s covered in small scars and what might be runes and his long hair is in a tangled braid, twined with vine and bone.

He’s so utterly perfect and he’s glaring at Magnus. 

An enticing pout sits on the downturned curve of his mouth as he wades closer. Each step bares more of him as water sluices off his muscles and Magnus leans back on his elbows, enjoying the view.

“It’s been over four decades.” Magnus is told calmly but grumpily. “I appreciate you valuing me so much. But I am tired of waiting. Consider me wooed.”

The man is in front of Magnus by the time he’s finished speaking and he drops a small bag before he climbs —naked and dripping wet— right into Magnus’ lap and sits down like it’s his due.

 Like he belongs there.

Magnus finds that he does not mind. 

Any of this.

Magnus’ mind is working quickly to piece together an idea of what happened. But he has to be careful as he tests his theory. There’s no safe way to make a mistake with a fae and the one in his lap will be gone if Magnus gets it wrong.

“And did you enjoy it, my wooing you?” Magnus asks and he puts a proprietary hand on the man’s ass, pulling him closer. Muscles tense under his grip and Magnus clenches his fingers hungrily. 

It earns him a pleased hum of agreement and damp fingers petting down Magnus’ silk sleeves, tracing the way the silk hugs Magnus biceps. 

“Do I get to know my lovely boy’s name?” Magnus asks, still slow and careful as he figures out just what is his to take. 

“Alec. Alexander, for you.” Is murmured against his cheek like a confession, like it’s a gift. As if that part of him now belongs to Magnus and Magnus feels the shiver of power in his words. 

Cool lips brush his jaw and Magnus is hanging onto his control by a thread. 

—Ragnor had better be bloody thrilled than his stupid little lectures on ‘self-restraint’ and ‘no sex with fae until you know what the cost is’ have been drilled into Magnus’ instincts—

“I’m Magnus, darling.” Magnus pets Alexander’s flank with his free hand and chuckles when his muscles jump at the touch. “Sensitive, aren’t you?” He asks and then reminds himself not to be distracted. He’s still not sure exactly how this misunderstanding happened. 

“I owe you a gift for taking so long when you’ve been so patient. What should I get you, hmm? Tell me.”

It’s better to be as direct with fae as possible. Magnus needs to keep his wits as much as he can until this thing between them is settled. 

Alexander pauses from where he’s been clumsily trying to rip off Magnus’ clothes.  And Magnus really needs to figure out if this is a sexy thing, or a ‘you owe me your heart literally’ kind of thing. 

Quickly.

“You’ve been wooing me for decades.” Alexander says, voice puzzled and his gaze continually slides from meetings Magnus own; to looking hungrily at Magnus torso.

“Why would I need more gifts when you’re finally here? You’ve fed me for years and you finally let me taste your blood!” Alexander gives a huff of outrage, face dark as he tugs harder on Magnus’ vest —grumbling at how complicated the whale bone pearl buttons that Magnus loves are. 

“I don’t want an apology gift! I want to know how you’re going to finally bond with me when you have all of this on?” Alexander complains as he finally gives up on the buttons. It's so sincere and endearing that Magnus has to fight back laughter.

He succeeds only because this is not a laughing matter.

And because Alexander will not take his frustrations over a slow courtship being laughed at well. It’s easier than it should be to refocus and it’s only because the thought of fucking Alexander steals away his breath.

“Oh, this is for you. Luck and protection, the others are for later, this was the first.” Alexander says now that his hands are avoiding Magnus' abused  buttons. 

And Magnus finds that he would sacrifice every single tailored waistcoat in his extensive wardrobe to get those hands back on him.

Instead Alexander reaches up to his braid and unhooks a small pendant. 

It’s a bone carved with runes and it’s not newly carved. It’s several decades old and the magic it’s steeped in is Magnus’ magic. It literally projects a bloodthirsty aura but when Magnus holds it, all he can feel is the protective energy it pushes into him, a flip of fate lingering in the bone. 

It takes a moment and then Magnus understands.

Magnus killed with magic, disposed of the bodies here with magic and Alexander accepted what he thought were courtship offerings before harvesting and devouring those kills.

Which means that Magnus accidentally started one of oldest and primal unseelie courtship rituals.

Specifically with the implied intentions of exclusivity, as well as presenting himself as the dominant suitor as a provider and caretaker for Alexander. 

As the bigger predator.

As the greater threat.

And Alexander wants Magnus. 

Wants everything that Magnus has accidentally asked for and he is actively irritated that Magnus has made him wait so long. 

But he has waited. Waited willingly for decades while Magnus unknowingly wasted time where he could have had this patient, good boy always in his lap. 

Years Magnus shouldn’t have had to suffer being alone and thinking no one would ever want everything he has to give. 

Years where he didn’t believe anyone could want him. Let alone want him enough to wait. 

Years being too much, when for Alexander he’s enough. 

Years where everything Magnus has ever craved and been denied, was waiting for him. 

Longing for him. 

So even though Magnus can still break the ritual he doesn’t want to. 

Instead he smiles.

Alexander wants to submit to Magnus and who is Magnus to deny him that pleasure when he, himself wants Alexander to submit,

Magnus will never let Alexander find out that their courtship was an accident. He’s going to bind Alexander to him, as if it was his purpose all along, and then Magnus is going to keep him.

[atherix]

hi wasn't expecting 2 updates and I really wanted to scream about it especially since you so kindly mentioned it in the Notes

First of HOLY STICKFIGURES OF AN ELF

the Mimics/Observants ??? coming after everyone with ppl they loved.. who are all dead by now??? i don't remember if scars mum is still alive my brain won't let me remember that part (tho now I do wonder what it would've used on Tubbo)

Grian has every right to be nervous about going into the Ally and I'm very glad that Mumbo stopped him from going in alone and Grian accepting that(yay character growth)

also the hilarity of "yeah you think Tubbo and Scar will be fine alone on top of a very unstable mountain?"....."NOPE WE'RE TAKING THEM WITH US TOO"

The fact that the mountain was deemed unstable multiple times by different ppl and I was still sitting here with a pikachu surprised face when it did collapse

les hope for the best...

and lastly, do not think this slipped by me mate

"Like it hasn’t been lived in in decades." yo what if Grian is actually WAY older than he thought ..... what if he had wandered the world for ages unconsciously or has been in stasis... wouldn't that be something

-fae anon ( this is my first ask)

To be honest I wasn't expecting two updates. I just couldn't help myself <3 Hehe I love seeing people screaming in my inbox, it's wonderful <3

JHGEHDKJFHJKFHJKD never heard that one before and I LOVE IT LMAO JKSKJFLSK

Hehehe the Mimics are truly horrifying. I can't wait to reveal their relationship to the Watchers. Oh, the Mimic was mimicking Scar's father, not his mother- his mother is still alive but has been extremely distant since his father died Scar was young :) Ah yes, Tubbo... keep that in mind :)

Mumbo knows it's a very bad idea but he also knows when Grian puts his mind to something there's no stopping him, so it'd be better to be with him where he can pull him out of the mess than risk letting him go alone 😌 And yes- the character growth of Grian not even arguing and letting him come along <3

Look there was a nonzero chance one or the other would fall off the side of the mountain even if the mountain didn't collapse, do you BLAME them kjgfdjklgjkfd \:')

HJKFSJLKGSLJKKLDLJK BRILLIANT. I love it. Sometimes the obvious answer is in fact the unexpected answer <3 Hehehe

:) Hehehehe

Welcome to the party, Fae Anon~! We've got essays for your reading pleasure, random ideas that pop into my head at abysmal hours of the night, Stitch screaming in the corner because they know many of my twists and still get taken out by them, and little old me cackling in the middle of it all <3

[cameraflowers]

My personal favorite Non Human Headcanons for Hermitcraft Members and my reasons Why

bdouble0100 - Glare hybrid

Mossy boi

Hates caving

Best sleep schedule on the server

Cubfan135 - Vex Hybrid

ConVex

Genuinely that’s the main reason

Also the way he laughs when pulling of chaos? Perfection

DocM77 - Creeper centaur/Ram hybrid (+Cyborg)

I mean this one is just basically canon

I also just like the idea of keeping Creeper’s 4 legs

Hermits ride on his back constantly because they love him and he stronk

EthoSlab - Human a bit to the left

Is he human? Is he a cryptid? No one on the server really knows

He has a tendency to just appear

Maybe he just really is a Kakashi kinnie tho

FalseSymmetry - eagle avian

I’m a big fan of wings

And we’ve had Eagle themes two seasons now

GeminiTay - Reindeer hybrid

Antlers YesYes

GoodTimesWithScar - Vex Hybrid

ConVex pt 2 the electric boogaloo

Tbh I followed Vex!Scar before Vex!Cub

But they’re such a duo

Love it sm

Grian - Parrot avian/Watcher

I mean…Duh

IJevin - Slime hybrid

This one is also just technically canon

Just one wacky slimy dude

Joe Hills - just a dude a bit to the right

No one can confirm anything

But it’s just off enough where people think so

Somehow he’s gotten those outside of the server to think he’s the most normal

But everyone on the server knows that’s a lie

He’s just as chaotic as the rest of them, just goes about it a little different

Grian never will forget the Lava logged base of s6

Keralis - Eldritch Void Being

I just think it’s funny

I’ve seen it around a few times and I love it

He just looks like a little fella but in reality Papa K could absolutely rip apart any threat to his family

Mumbo Jumbo - Human a bit to the left

S6-8

I can’t bring myself to say full shape shifter because he’s got no control over it

But mans can have his mustache removed then smack his face against it and have it reattached.

He literally sold off his appearance in s7 because he needed diamonds

S8 tempts me to add in half Watcher bc Grian Soul Consumption, but truly only on occasion

Pearlescentmoon - Lunar Moth hybrid/Watcher

Moth!Pearl my beloved

Also me slapping Watcher/Listener lore on Evo members? Yes

Rendog - wolf hybrid/werewolf

He do be the diggity dog

Previously existing Wolf genes mixed with gained lycanthropy

Fantastic to the mind

Stressmonster101 - fae

She may or may not steal her friends names

But she certainly does pester her friends /affectionate

She feels like the type of person to steal things and only give them back after cute shiny gifts tbh

TangoTek - netherbased Dragon

I saw exactly one person write dragon!Tango and it’s been my brain rot ever since

Sure the nether doesn’t actually have fire dragons

But I love it

TinFoilChef - Herobrine

Literally just the man the myth the legend himself

The idea of this well known Minecraft cryptid joining the Hermits, liking them and sticking around is very endearing to me

Years of haunting servers and players being terrified when he popped up

To finding a group that adore seeing him when he emerges from his strip mines

XisumaVoid - Void Walker

Now this is a common one and I love it

Especially with the tag along of Void Eldritch Keralis

Xisuma the voidwalker admin who could survive the void if he chose to, but often doesn’t to keep an even playing field with his players

Love it

Zedaph - sheep hybrid

I’ve seen the fan arts

I love the fan arts

I’m a DSMP main at heart, give me Ram/sheep hybrids and I eat that up every time

ZombieCleo - Zombie

Also just canon

Sentient Zombie teacher who can scold grown men into actually sounding sorry? Chefs kiss

To any Hermits not on the list, I either straight up view them as “Just a dude” or I don’t know them well enough for the brain to assign them a hybrid/being. I was going down a real list of Hermit members so I promise they weren’t just forgotten 😂

Absolutely no one asked for this post but I provide it anyways because I was thinking about it, and also Lowkey wanted to write it out so I could remember it too lmao

[airshipsinking]

So what’s some inhuman!hermits concepts you have

Well, first of all none of my interpretations of the Hermits' characters are 100% human, so jot that down (/ref). Some appear humanoid because that's how their species looks, while others, if they have the ability to manipulate their appearance, just prefer to look like an approximation of a human to make hopping servers easier.

So far what I've settled on is:

glitch!Doc

watcher!Grian

starborne!Cub

shapeshifter!Mumbo (or as I like to call him: weird purple end cat /affectionate)

sorcerer!Scar (there's a reason he's on this list, trust me)

cinder!Tango

specter!Wels (and thus poltergeist!Hels)

werewolf!Beef

and a couple other fanon interpretations I haven't had the opportunity to meddle with, but have adopted nonetheless!

I've heavily built upon cinders and end shapeshifters with only little inspiration from other media, while for stuff like watchers, starbornes and the resident glitched creeper of Hermitcraft I've based them entirely on my headcanons of said species. Also, I've technically decided who most of Scar's deals were made with which does explain why he keeps making deals with fae and getting out of them, but that's for another time. More about my homebrewed chaos under cut.

Docm77

Doc had creeper code before he ever had Player code. He never was a regular creeper, mind you, but he never was a Player either prior to the glitch that created him as the Hermits know him. By all means, Doc is exactly what you'd assume he is upon first seeing him: a sentient, humanoid creeper centaur-like creature.

Much like regular creepers, he doesn't have bones, but a rather intricate network of thin branches and vines tightly woven together, the latter which serve as muscles and cushioning for internal organs. Creepers also have a coat of moss, lichen or small plants as their "fur" and Doc is no exception! He has a spanish moss coat that sometimes gets spotted with algae if he sits in humid environments for too long. Really his, Player-ness mostly consists in the ability to use crafting tables and inability to understand mob speak.

Doc's cybernetics also work in a really interesting fashion because they are very much cybernetics, but as creepers can somewhat regrow parts of themselves they are different from cybernetics meant for those whose anatomy is closer to humans. The shoulder and biceps part of his cybernetic arm are mostly hollow, and serve as both a brace to ensure the regrown arm doesn't do something wonky that'd be painful in the long run, and as an anchoring point for the cybernetic. Everything from his elbow down is 100% cybernetics and helps him immensely with fine motor movements although it took a good long while to get used to. The cybernetic eye also works similarly, except the cybernetic components are far better secured so he doesn't accidentally end up pulling them out.

Grian

Hermitcraft Grian is the most human the guy has ever looked, black sclerae and all. Before being a Watcher, Grian was an avian and had brown and white spotted pigeon wings, then after agreeing to become a Watcher (it sounded fun at the time, sue him) he took the form of a chimera of wings of different shapes, sizes and color, no two of the same feather.

Arguably, Hermits wouldn't mind having an amalgamation of wings and eyes ominously hovering about and causing mischief because that's not that weird given the everything that has happened and will most certainly continue to happen on the Hermitcraft server, but Grian is acutely aware this is not a universal consensus while simultaneously having a very poor reference of how common non-human inclusion actually is because of his years in the fringes of "the world between worlds" where legend places the Watchers' library in relation to everything else, so he's...a little nervous about his appearance to put it lightly. Watchers are not evil, nor righteous— they do what they feel they must to keep up with their work logging the events of an ever-expanding universe, and wade off the subsequent boredom that comes with such a repetitive task.

Grian and Pearl are both oddballs when it comes to their abilities as Watchers, because while most can capital w Watch and capital k Know, they can only do one or the other; Grian can only Know things and Pearl can only Watch things. This ultimately has influenced why they left— Grian because he wanted to see things for himself and interfere in Player's worlds and Pearl because she was sick of clinical observations and wanted to get to experience the things she saw for herself— but in the grand scheme of things they barely ever use their powers anymore for anything other than getting a different angle on their builds and cheating at cards when facing off against each other.

Cubfan135

Mr. Cubfan is quite literally made up of stardust and often leaves little particles of iron dust and ice wherever he goes! Appearing human is a purely aesthetic choice on his behalf, but the upkeep is definitely worth it because it allows him to get up to so many shenanigans with his friends or by himself, be it theming his outfit around the base he plans to build that season, convincing the others he also made a deal with the vex like Scar had in season 6, or just going up to a sleepy Hermit and placing a very cold hand on their face or back of the neck to wake them up.

There's also other pros and cons to being a starborne, namely having permanent night vision, healing faster at night, and requiring air in a far lesser capacity than most overworld inhabitants, while also being more susceptible to fall damage and kinetic damage due to gravity discrepancies between different planets. Does this deter Cub from building ridiculously high up? No. Should it deter him from building so damn high up? Yes, but when has common sense ever deterred Hermits from doing something? /rh

Also, unrelated to Cub being a starborne, but he has Oxford shoe heelies. I know it in my heart to be true <3.

Mumbo Jumbo

As far as Mumbo is concerned, he is just a very unlucky human. I mean, everyone has weird things happen to them sometimes, right? There's nothing that odd about speaking a language that was thought to only be used in written form, or spawning in the Outer End, or turning into the things you eat— bugs happen, and they usually fix themselves after a while anyways, so it's fine! Shulkers target everyone the same, he's just bad at dodging, so it looks like they're targeting him more often, but that's totally not the case! Or, well, that are his claims at least, because for as long as he can remember he's thought of himself as human, so being inhuman is a bit...intimidating? Like, what does it mean to be inhuman? Is there a handbook for it or anything? There are far too many questions and every time Mumbo even considers it, he only seems to end up with more questions, so he'd really rather not think about it. Nothing bad ever came out of doing that! /s

Well, until something bad does happen, and the control he has on his appearance slips meaning that for the first time in many seasons he's not a moustached man with eye bags that wouldn't go away even with a lifetime's worth of sleep, but an end shapeshifter.

There aren't many reflective surfaces in the End unless you count the obsidian (too dark to see your image in) or the endstone (neither smooth nor crystalline), so whispy purple and off-white fur was definitely not what Mumbo expected to see. He has 2 pairs of eyes— a smaller one that's entirely black and looks kind of like a pair of eyebrows, and a bigger one with large purple irises— floppy triangle ears with some sort of whiskers on the ends, an off-white fur collar that starts on the sides of his neck and peaks between his shoulders before trailing off down his spine, 5 digit paws, and a stripe pattern starting on the sides of his body and covering his back and legs.

TangoTek

As mentioned, Tango is a cinder, though not the kind you would think of if you know the Lycanite's Mobs mod. Cinders were a proto-netheric species with blaze and wither like characteristics, meaning they could summon netherflames like blazes do while virtually being a more primitive version of wither skeletons from an anatomical standpoint. Now, being a skeleton is not exactly the best thing to be when your most important and only vital organ is a magic core inside your rib cage, so cinders built themselves bodies out of wax (as it made them easy to repair) tempered to withstand the ambient heat of the Nether.

Upon first meeting the Hermit, most find themselves inclined to assume that he's a fire elemental in the same way Gem is a nature elemental because of his ability to summon fire which passively manifests as a particularly fiery fauxhawk (good for finding soulsand valleys, apparently, which is both useful and annoying), or a sorcerer who's made a deal to gain the abilities of his patron like Scar does because of his red eyes and sharp teeth. There are little tells that's not true, though, mostly which lay in how him and other Hermits interact; Impulse joking that if he's so tired of wither skeleton hunting they could always take up Zed's offer of trying to see if they can summon a Wither Tango...for science, of course! Or Tango's endless complaining about blazes, and pistons misfiring and slamming him square in the face or legs which mean he has to put projects on hold while he patches himself up. Or even just him and Etho arguing from across the shopping district through a dialect that's not any recognizable sign language, but a form of sign language nonetheless.

Pre-1.15 worlds required many intentional respawns, tell you that much. The Nether has drastically changed since Tango first stepped into the Overworld.

Welsknight

Wels is stuck in an arthurian conundrum, so to speak. In life, Wels was a legendary knight who fought fiercely to defend his homeland and only died after the crucial battle to insure his kingdom's safety, but in death this feat has come as more of a curse/inconvenience to him as legend binds he shall only return to his homeland in its greatest time of need. Centuries have passed since then, and Wels has taken to accompanying the Hermits in their travels to pass the time in a more enjoyable manner than aimlessly wandering the world with no purpose— now he's aimlessly wandering the universe with purpose (i.e. shenanigans)! Very different.

Due to Wels being a specter, the miscalibrated cloning machine which created Helsknight made him into a poltergeist bound to haunt Wels for what they can only presume to be eternity? Or until Wels returns to his homeland? Or until Wels' spirit somehow dies? It's really quite unclear how they're supposed to get out of this, and Hels isn't exactly eager to find out what does happen if Wels dies, so he's spending his eternity just antagonizing his double for creating him in the first place and having quite a blast at it too— you should see his red string board someday, it's got so many devious schemes!

VintageBeef

Beef comes from a long line of werewolves, though there was no way to know for certain whether he was one as well until one faithful and quite frankly embarrassing full moon. If anyone asks about it, he says he can't remember much from when he's in wolf form, which is true, but none of the Mindcrack guys will let him live down trying to bite out of the moon, loosing his footing, and subsequently having to be dragged out of the river by 3 people so he didn't get a cold like a goof. Are there better anecdotes to motivate why you shouldn't panic if you see a large black wolf outside your base at 1 am? Yes. Is the moon accident an objectively funnier one, though? Also yes.

Besides the occasional incident, Beef is as chill in wolf form as he is in his less furry form, if not a tad more social because wolves can't exactly lose track of time while making map art as they can't make map art; they can be damn good at ruining snow layers, though— paw prints everywhere. It is not unusual to find Beef away from his base and sleeping in a pile of Hermits who still have to move out of their outdoors chest monsters (plus/minus a Zedaph who was too tired to make it all the way back to his own base) during the first few weeks of the server or in his sheep pen at any point of the season. They are very fluffy and make him sleepy is the reason the defendant pleads.

Oh! Also him, Ren and False sometimes hold contests to see who can catch the most impressive mob/get most hostile mob drops in a night. Cub is decidedly banned from this contest. Cub also decidedly doesn't care for the ban and likes to mess with his friends (all in good fun, of course).

[a-plethora-of-peters]

I might've asked this before, but how did you come up with everyone's species/powers??

You have not asked this before and I welcome this question!

Initially, I took a look at what the Hermits say they are/what they look like on the server

So that's how Creeper Hybrid Doc, Attempted Flesh Construct Cleo, and Slime Hybrid Jevin immediately come to mind

Then I looked at popular headcanons in the fandom and went "Okay what does the fanbase like? What do I like that they like?"

Which is how we got people like Parrot/Watcher Grian, Vampire Mumbo, Werewolf Ren, Nature Spirit Gem, and Voidwalkers X & Ex

Then I went in farther and went "Okay what are the vibes that these guys personally give me?"

That's how I ended up with God of Inspiration Joe, Shadow Cryptid Etho, Demon Impulse (this was before there was that huge wave of fans making Impulse a Demon btw), and Siren Hypno.

Keralis has always vibed to me as a human but why have people insist on looking into his eyes all the time? What's so special about that? And I'm always weak for empathic bonds whether temporary or permanent. So that's how that happened.

TFC surprisingly gave me very little trouble when it came to figuring him out. I knew he was the oldest person on the Hermitcraft server and I had heard the now infamous "Philza made Minecraft" joke by this time. So I just patted TFC gently and said "This Minecraft Grandpa can hold so much love inside him!" and made him a God too lol

After that I sort of blended other people's takes with my own for everyone else.

Like I love how people make Tango have Nether Origins, but I see him being made a Blaze so much it's kinda boring to me. But a Magma Cube? Now that's cool!

Or like how after I read a series on AO3 called The Meteor Effect where a magic meteor causes the Hermits to physically change forms/give them powers, I ended up hooked on Phantom Hybrid Bdubs and Dragon Hybrid Wels. So I gave them my own little twists and boop! There ya go!

I had to do a bit of research but I pretty quickly found out ConVex/ConCorp, and all the related Vex shenanigans. But Scar and Cub don't look like Vex all the time, in fact they wear masks to show when they are Vex. So if they aren't Vex completely what are they? Well maybe they're Changelings, half-human and half-fae and they'll become full Vex when they permadie.

Sheep Hybrid Zed is a pretty popular headcanon, but I then went "Huh. What if that's just like... a suit that Zed wears?" And since Zed is one of the crazy redstone guys of the server, I figured making him a Gremlin that powers/controls a robot body would be fun!

Iskall & False were also mostly gathered from fanbase ideas that I then added my own spin on later. Like Iskall being a bit more cybernetic than the fandom usually makes him and False having the Blessing of the Blood God.

You did ask me before about how I came up with Cryptid Beef and here's a bit of extra knowledge to add to that.

So as previously explained, I had already had the idea of Beef eventually transforming into a Cryptid because of his physical changes in S8, but no thoughts on what the end result would look like beyond the Prawn from District 9 which was his original intent.

Then I saw the mantis that Doc made in s8 and my insect loving heart went 😍 AWOOOGAAAA! 😍 over it and I knew what I had to do.

I had to make Beef that Mantis.

But why would he change into a Mantis specifically? Well I already had it that being around Cryptids for too long kinda makes you a bit... not quite human yourself. So obviously Moon Big messed with him and triggered him to change into a Mantis. And that, in combination with me loving alliterative names, made them Moon Mantises.

And yeah that's sort of how my thought processes go

... actually do you want the full list of everyone? May have to censor it slightly for future spoilers but I can share it here if you'd like?

[samwisethewitch]

Pagan Paths: Feri

Feri (sometimes spelled Faery) is an American neopagan tradition. Like Traditional Wicca, Feri is an initiatory tradition but does not place any limitations on who can be initiated. Although the requirement for initiation makes this religion less easily accessible, Feri has had a huge influence on modern neopaganism, including influencing other (non-initiatory) traditions like Reclaiming. For that reason, I think it’s important that we discuss Feri as part of our ongoing exploration of modern paganism.

This post is not meant to be a complete introduction to Feri. Instead, my goal here is to give you a taste of what Feri practitioners believe and do, so you can decide for yourself if further research would be worth your time. In that spirit, I provide book recommendations at the end of this post.

History and Background

Feri was founded by Victor Anderson and his wife, Cora, in the United States in the 1960s. Like Gerald Gardner, Victor Anderson claimed not to have created his tradition, but to have been initiated into it and then later added to it. In Anderson’s case, he claimed to have been initiated into witchcraft by a faery when he was nine years old.

The Andersons called Feri “the Pictish Tradition” and claimed that it was originally the Craft of the “Little People” in Ireland and Scotland. Victor Anderson was also influenced by Vodou and Hawaiian indigenous spirituality, although his connections to these traditions (both of which are closed) is unclear. Some modern Feri practitioners have made efforts to distance their practice from these elements appropriated from closed cultures, but Feri remains a very eclectic tradition that encourages initiates to “use what works.” Because of this, no two Feri practices are exactly alike.

There is another, more mythologized account of the birth of Feri, shared by author and Feri warlock Storm Faerywolf in his book Betwixt & Between. (In this book, Faerywolf uses the spelling “Faery,” but he is a member of the tradition founded by the Andersons.) In this myth, a group of powerful spiritual beings known as the Watchers rebelled against a false god millennia ago and taught magic to mankind. These Watchers are the fae, and they intermarried with humans and are the origin of all magic traditions. As the story goes, it was one of these Watchers who initiated Victor Anderson into what would later become known as Feri.

Because Feri traces its origin back to these spiritual ancestors, initiation is an important part of the tradition. When someone is initiated, they are said to be made a part of this Feri lineage, similar to how newly baptized Christians are said to be made a part of Christ’s family. This means that, in order to truly practice Feri, you must find a Feri teacher to train and initiate you.

Over the decades since the Andersons founded their tradition, many different lineages of Feri have formed, each with their own unique approach. Some are more visible and more involved with the public, while others practice under strict secrecy. Many of the practices and beliefs that are common in modern Feri come from the Bloodrose lineage.

Core Beliefs and Values

In the words of Cora Anderson, “the Craft is about doing right by one another and loving everyone you see.” However, Feri does not have a universal moral code — there is no Feri equivalent to the Wiccan Rede. While love and kindness are highly valued, the Andersons did not differentiate between light and dark magic and encouraged their followers to use magic to defend themselves when necessary. (You may have noticed that, like in Wicca, magic is an integral part of Feri.)

The Feri Tradition teaches that every person has three souls, each with its own characteristics, strengths, and weaknesses. These souls have different names in different lineages, but Faerywolf identifies them as the talker (the “mental soul” associated with the ego/personality), the fetch (the “animal soul” associated with the subconscious and the primal mind), and the holy daemon or god soul (the part of the self that comes directly from God Herself and is able to commune with gods and spirits as equals). Much of the work of Feri revolves around aligning these three souls into a fully realized whole.

Another important part of Feri philosophy is embodied by the symbols of the Iron and Pearl Pentacles.

Iron is a grounding metal, and contemplating the Iron Pentacle keeps practitioners grounded in their astral travel. Feri initiates not only invoke the Iron Pentacle, but seek to embody it by moving through each point on the pentacle and addressing any blocks or hangups in the associated area of their lives. The five points are sex, pride, self, power, and passion. When all five of these points are in balance, we are able to confidently and effectively work our magic in the world. For example, we should not be afraid of sex, but we shouldn’t be obsessed with it either; we should take pride in our accomplishments, but shouldn’t be too full of ourselves; you get the idea. An initiate who fully embodies the Iron Pentacle is fully centered in their own divine power, as well as their physical body.

The Pearl Pentacle is the compliment to the Iron Pentacle. While the Iron Pentacle is personal, the Pearl Pentacle is transpersonal — it represents the qualities needed to form healthy relationships with others. Some Feri practitioners believe that each point on the Pearl Pentacle represents the “higher form” of one of the points of the Iron Pentacle. In the words of Victor Anderson, “when taken together, the Iron and the Pearl embody the divine union that is necessary to fully awaken the awareness of our divine natures.”

The points of the Pearl Pentacle are: love (defined as a genuine desire for union; can be said to be the higher form of sex), law (as in, the natural laws that govern our universe and our actions; can be said to be the higher form of pride), knowledge (learning from lived experience; can be said to be the higher form of self), power (also a point on the Iron Pentacle — here, it refers to our ability to share power with others), and wisdom (the balance between logic and emotion, head and heart; can be said to be the higher form of passion). The way these points are taught, and their relationship to the Iron Pentacle, may be different in different Feri lineages.

Feri practitioners believe that, by embodying the Iron and Pearl Pentacles, they can achieve a state known as the Black Heart of Innocence, which is defined as “sexual innocence.” It can also be thought of as the innocent, untainted state of small children and animals. This is the natural state of human beings, before we are conditioned to be ashamed or afraid of our sexual impulses.

This brings us to a final point of Feri philosophy: in Feri sex is sacred, as it was through a sexual act that God Herself created the universe. As Faerywolf puts it, “sex is a sacrament in our tradition.” That doesn’t mean that all Feri rituals have a sexual component, but some of them might. Mostly, the sacredness of sex requires Feri practitioners to live in a healthy relationship with their nature as sexual beings.

Important Deities and Spirits

The central deity in Feri is called Star Goddess or simply God Herself. She is the androgynous source of all life, “having within Her all principles, powers, and potencies of Nature.” (Quote from The Heart of the Initiate by Victor and Cora Andersons.) Star Goddess is not only the source of the others Gods, but the source of all life, including humans.

According to the Feri creation myth, in the beginning, Star Goddess was alone in the cosmic void, until she came upon a reflection of her own light. She was so enamored that she made love to her own reflection, and from this act of self-pleasure gave birth to all things.

Star Goddess often appears as a black-skinned woman whose skin is dotted with stars. In ritual, she is often represented with a large black candle.

Nimüe is an aspect of Star Goddess, a maiden who represents the Black Heart of Innocence. She rules over new life, growth, and potential.

Nimüe may appear as a child or a young woman. She can be represented in ritual with flowers (especially pink or white flowers) or with a waxing crescent moon.

Mari is the Great Mother, Star Goddess as the embodiment of pure manifestation. She is associated with the earth, moon, sea, and sky — it is she who gives life and form to all things. The earth is said to be her body, and she is said to be “the spirit of every woman.”

Mari may appear a a pregnant woman. She can be represented in ritual with images of the earth, the moon, or of mothers.

The Hag, also known as the Crone, is the primal Dark Goddess and Queen of the Dead. She is the archetypal witch, but also a grandmother and wise woman. Some believe that it is to her we return when we die.

The Hag often appears as a wizened old woman. She can be represented in ritual with images of ravens and/or vultures, or with a silver sickle.

Star Goddess has two children and consorts, the Divine Twins. They are the personification of duality — light and dark, good and evil, spirit and matter, united in a balanced pair. They may appear as brother and sister, as two lovers of any combination of genders, or as mortal enemies.

The Twins may appear as the Scarlet Serpent and the Azure Dove, who represent the duality of fire/water and earth/air. In ritual, they are often represented with a matching set of candles, one red and one blue.

The Blue God, sometimes called the Peacock God, is born from the union of the Divine Twins — he contains within himself all duality and appears with a combination of male and female features. He is associated with the divine spark within all living things, including one of the three human souls, which Faerywolf calls the holy daemon. He is the god of opposites, and exists in a permanent liminal state. He contains within him both good and evil, beauty and darkness.

The Blue God may appear as a young, androgynous or hermaphroditic person with blue skin. In ritual, he is often represented with peacock feathers.

Krom, also known as the Horned God, is the god of fertility, light, and heat. He is sometimes described as the consort of the Goddess as Mari. He is God as father and lover and is overtly sexual in nature. He has solar associations, but is also the lord of the harvest.

Krom may appear as a man with the head of a stag, glowing with the sun’s warmth. He can be represented in ritual with images of stags, bulls, phalluses, or the sun.

The Arddu (pronounced “ar-THEE”) or the Dark God is described as the “crone aspect of the God.” He is the god of witches, the king of the dead, and the spirit of winter. It is said that when we die, we must confront the Arddu before we can return to the Hag.

The Arddu often appears as an old, androgynous man, with the head and legs of a goat and the wings of a bat. He can be represented in ritual with images of skulls and bones.

Deity in Feri is complex and fluid. All of the goddesses can be said to be different aspects of one Goddess, and all of the gods can be said to be different aspects of one God. Furthermore, all of the deities, both gods and goddesses, can be said to be extensions of Star Goddess. Victor Anderson believed that everything is connected and that the Gods exist within the Universe and the individual. As he said, “God is self, and self is God, and God is a person like myself.”

In addition to the deities, there are also spirits called Watchers and Guardians who play an important role in Feri. The Watchers are mysterious celestial entities, said to be the fathers of magic. Guardians are spirits associated with the elements, who are called on to guard the circle during ritual. Some Feri practitioners believe that the Guardians are Watchers, while others see them as two distinct groups of spirits.

Feri Practice

As stated earlier, much of the work of Feri involves embodying the Iron and Pearl Pentacle in order to return to the Black Heart of Innocence. This is done through ritual, meditation, ecstatic trance, art, energy work, and/or magic.

Feri is an ecstatic tradition, which means many of its rituals and practices revolve around achieving an ecstatic state. Ecstasy is sometimes defined as the state of being completely absorbed in the focus of your attention, and other times as the removal of the consciousness from normal functioning. In Feri, ecstasy is used as a tool for spiritual growth.

Astral travel also plays a role in Feri practice. A Feri practitioner may use trance states to leave their body and enter the spirit realm, where they can encounter the gods, Watchers, faeries, and other spirits firsthand. In some traditions, this travel forms the backbone of the practice.

Art and creative expression are other tools used for spiritual growth in Feri. Visual art and poetry in particular are often used to express spiritual concepts or to help the initiate process what they have learned. Victor Anderson was a known poet and published a collection of devotional poetry called Thorns of the Blood Rose — many later Feri practitioners have followed in his footsteps.

Feri is considered a magic tradition as well as a religion, and many Feri practitioners consider themselves witches or warlocks. Magic is seen as a way of directing the universal life energy that makes up all things, and is a natural extension of our divine power as each of us is a part of Star Goddess.

Like Wiccan rituals, Feri rituals sometimes begin with casting a circle and calling the quarters. However, Feri uses different language and gestures for the circle casting, with a greater focus on the earth and the circle as an extension of the Goddess’s body. While in Wicca, the circle is used for every ritual, in Feri it may only be used for some rites.

Further Reading

If you are interested in Feri, I recommend reading the book Betwixt & Between by Storm Faerywolf. This is an excellent introduction to the tradition, written by the founder of the BlueRose lineage. You may also be interested in reading the works of Victor and Cora Anderson — though Feri has changed a lot since it was founded, the Andersons’ teachings still lie at the core of the tradition.

Because Feri is an initiatory tradition, you can only go so far on study alone. Eventually, you will have to find a teacher to train and initiate you. Without this initiation, what you are doing is not, and cannot be, Feri. Thankfully, it is becoming ever easier to find online training, so you can walk the Feri path no matter where you live. The BlueRose lineage, which was founded by Storm Faerywolf, offers online training and initiation through The Mystic Dream Academy. Some other Feri teachers also have online offerings — look around on social media to see who is currently accepting students.

If you choose not to pursue initiation, you can still incorporate elements of Feri lore and philosophy into your practice, as long as you acknowledge that what you are doing is no longer Feri. In fact, many elements of Feri survive in other, related traditions such as Reclaiming, which we’ll discuss in the next installment of this series.

Resources:

The Heart of the Initiate by Victor and Cora Anderson

The Spiral Dance by Starhawk

Betwixt & Between by Storm Faerywolf

The official Feri Tradition website (feritradition.com)

[inkribbon796]

The High Tower Ch. 9: Roman’s Muse

Summary: Roman decides to court Patton, what could go wrong?

Other Parts: 0, Darkstache Day 2 and 3

Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22

Roman was traveling to the western border with the Wildwoods.

Things were more peaceful than they’d been in sometime. Only the occasional bandits but it was nothing more than the local militia could handle. Even Remus wasn’t causing too much trouble.

Which was weird, and a problem. Mostly because Roman was getting bored and he hadn’t seen his newest muse since the wedding.

The sugar sweet prince of the woods.

Patton was all Roman could think of. He wanted to see him again. He wanted to sing him ballads and hear more stories.

Touring the western border wasn’t enough. Patton was never there. He was always deep in the woods.

“This is awful,” Roman complained to Virgil again.

“I’m sure you’ll see him again,” Virgil rolled his eyes. “Besides, it’s not like you can court him.”

Roman sat up in surprise, the gears began turning in his head. “Father said the Gentry are fae royalty.”

“Roman—” Virgil tried to urge.

“It’s perfect,” Roman’s mind was already racing ahead to walks in the garden, and hours spent just talking.

“The King would never let you,” Virgil was desperate to shake the idea out of Roman’s mind before it got them all into trouble.

“Come now Virgil, love is love,” Roman dismissed, already starting to walk off through the castle to find his father.

“Love has nothing to do with the fact that this isn’t some common market street baker, or a nobleman’s son,” Virgil desperately told him. “He’s a Gentry prince from the Wildwoods.”

“Exactly, he’s a prince,” Roman said confidently. “Noble blood and all that.”

Virgil startled floundering as he followed Roman. “That’s not what I meant.”

All too soon Roman found his father touring the castle with the Captain of the Guard.

“Oh no,” Virgil gasped.

“Father, My King,” Roman said, starry eyed.

“Yes, Roman,” the King smiled with a look of indulgence, and like he was braced for some extravagant plot he was going to have to shoot down. “What is it my boy?”

“I wish to court Heir Patton of the Wildwoods.” Roman had a huge smile on his face.

The King had a look of horror on his face. “But that’s not . . .”

Anger slowly boiled on the King’s face, “They said they’d only take one.”

Roman’s smile faded and he looked confused and hurt. “What?”

The King seemed to recover a little, but there was still that tone of rage in his voice. “Nevermind Roman, go tell Althea the good news.”

“Right, of course,” Roman turned, a little subdued that he’d been before.

Virgil, who had been trying to stay quiet and unseen, tried to stay behind his prince.

“Watcher,” the King said, his tone was anything but kind. “Send for Terrance, I need to go through some old books.”

“Right, your highness,” Virgil flinched and ran off like the King had threatened to set him on fire.

“What are you—” Roman tried to ask.

“Go and get Althea!” The King ordered firmly.

Roman flinched, not expecting the anger. He did leave, heading off to find his Godmother.

She was out in the garden, buzzing around some of the flowers that led up to the maze in the garden.

“Fairy Godmother!”

Althea turned and in a puff of feathers and light she took her more “human” appearance. “Roman, how are you?”

Then she paused when she saw Roman’s face. “What’s wrong?”

Roman took a second to steady his nerves and smile. “I want to court Patton.”

Althea flinched. “Come again?”

“I want to court Patton, he is lovely and I want to know more about him.”

“But courting him? Are you sure?” Althea asked.

“Why would that be a problem?” Roman didn’t understand why everyone was having a problem with this? “He is lovely, very interesting, and he loves food and poetry. I don’t understand what’s not to love about him.”

“Have you told the King?” Althea asked.

“Yes, he wasn’t too pleased,” Roman admitted.

In another puff of iridescent feathers, Althea was a hummingbird again, “Then we best find him, shouldn’t we?”

“Right,” Roman said and followed Althea off to find the King. Althea knocked before walking in.

“Come in,” the King told them.

The regent was with a handful of his Mage Court, Virgil included.

“Is there any way to reverse it?” The King said.

“No, Remus might be the accidental part,” one of the other mages said. “He’s younger. But there’s no way to know for sure.”

The King slammed in fist on the table in anger. “Dammit!”

Virgil and a couple of the other mages jumped. The King was usually slower to anger, but today didn’t seem to be one of those days.

Virgil was almost hiding behind a stack of books.

Althea waited for a little bit before taking a step forward. “Your Highness?”

The King closed his eyes, his fist bracing against the table before he pulled away to step around it.

“Good Witch, Althea,” the King greeted, inclining his head minutely. If Roman hadn’t been carefully watching him, he wouldn’t have noticed it. With his tone he sounded like he was trying to remind himself of something. “It is always a pleasure to have conference with you.”

“I’m sorry,” she said.

The King took a deep breath, “I was the one who made the choice, and I will be buried with it.”

Then he gestured to Roman, “After all, Roman here can’t help who he loves, isn’t that right, my boy?”

“Y-Yes?” Roman said. He felt uneasy. His father and King was upset and everyone around him was acting like it was the end of the world.

“Exactly,” the King’s tone didn’t change. “We should call us the Dragon Witch. After all, we can’t just expect her to go along with this without consulting her.”

“Right,” Althea said and with the help of another of Virgil, the King led Roman over to a table that housed a small pond.

Small, colorful fish and flowers lived in the pond. They kept the water from going stagnant.

Althea reached into the pond to draw up a handful of water, the unnaturally clear liquid spilling between her fingers. “Show me now, show me true. Show me a maiden that I value. Show me the Queen of the Grand Wildwood. Show me the Queen Dragon Witch who is good and true.”

As Althea spoke the water spilling from her hand seemed to spread into thin air and turned the surface above the fish and flowers into a reflective mirror that swirled with blue magic. The color and light swirled before it showed a homely library.

“My love, are you home?” Althea called out.

There was some rustle or movement before the Dragon Witch appeared, she had some book in her hands.

“Why do I have a feeling this is not a social call?” The Dragon Witch said.

“Because King Sanders wishes to speak to you.”

“Ahh, yes, that would be why, wouldn’t it?”

“The King has something to talk to you about,” Althea said, her tone careful.

“Alright,” Maggie’s tone was already careful.

The King led Roman closer, hand on his back as they leaned over the pool. “Maggie, good to see you. We’ll be brief. Roman here has a request.”

Roman felt caged in and nervous, but he smiled and tried to act confident. “Hello, I have— my request is that I would be honored to court your very lovely son Patton.”

The Dragon Witch closed the book and set it to the side. “Roman, you barely know my son. You’ve only met him once.”

“I know that he is the most charming and intriguing person I know,” Roman said. “He has stories and songs that are like nothing I’ve ever heard of. My life can only get better the more I learn about him.”

Maggie didn’t say anything at first. “And if I refuse?”

“Then you would make me a very happy man,” the King promised.

“I would, wouldn’t I?” Maggie commented, a tone of mirth in her voice. Clearly, she was thinking about something. “What do you think about this, John?”

The King’s expression didn’t change. “I would be a fool to get in the way.”

Roman felt nervous again as she took a long time thinking.

“I think you should be at least given a chance,” Maggie said. “Depending on if Patton even wants to be courted.”

“It would be an honor,” Roman gasped in pure joy.

The Dragon Witch picked up her book again. “This is not a promise of his hand or that you’ll actually get to court him, but this is for permission to court him. And of course Patton could say no at any time and that would be it.”

“Yes, yes,” Roman bounced.

“Then that will be that, I’ll send one of Logan’s owls with Patton’s answer when my son is ready to give it.”

“Of course,” Roman was excited.

Then the Dragon Witch’s image disappeared from the pool and there was just fish and flowers again.

Roman smiled at his mentor and father.

The King’s rage seemed to be simmering away and Althea was looking at him in concern.

“Your Majesty, maybe I could talk to—” Althea began.

“It’s done,” the King told her. “There’s nothing for it.”

Then the King walked out of the library, quiet and not saying another word to Roman.

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

(If you want on the taglist, just ask and I’ll throw you on here.)

Tag List: @shadowkittycat97

[magpiemorality]

Local werewolf pack adopted a changeling baby and their human “twin” with Roman and Remus, with the other sides being the werewolves? Please not *too* much angst, I just think it’d be kinda funny (maybe Roman is the changeling too, just for fun. If you want)

Unbelievably fun oh my gosh! It might not be clear but Roman is the Changeling and Remus the human! This is the initial adoption :D 

Warnings: child abandonment, implied/referenced child death. But hopefully not overly angsty!!

AO3

***

“Say, what’s that you got there, Patton?” Logan asks, voice dripping with forced casual interest. His expression doesn’t match- the raised eyebrow and pursed lips imply that a) he already knows and b) he is not happy about it. Virgil, on four legs today, presses against Logan’s leg, sniffing the scents from inside Patton’s den. Logan rubs the short fur between his eyes in reassurance but doesn’t take his gaze off Patton, who is squirming under the weight of it.

“Um, ah, well you see-”

“Is that a human?!” Remy yells from somewhere outside, soon trying to squeeze past Logan to get a better look. Logan holds him back with a sigh, snapping at him with the undercurrent of a growl when Remy persists. The other wolf whines, but crouches back out of the way.

Inside the cave a small voice whimpers uncertainly in response to the noise. Logan pinches the bridge of his nose. “Patton. Why do you-”

Another voice joins the first.

Everyone, including Patton, goes utterly still. And then before Patton can stop him Logan moves him to the side where Virgil promptly leans heavily against him to keep him still, revealing the hidden children inside.

Remy whistles softly. Two small boys, identical apart from the way one’s eyes glow in the darkness, stare back at them from the gloom of the den. Only one of them smells human though, and three noses- two human and one wet and wolfy- lift to try and figure out the second boy. Patton winces, wriggling out from Virgil’s press to soothe the scared looking twins. He cuddles them both close, nuzzling the tops of their curly heads and looks back at Logan beseechingly.

“They’re only small. It was the Fae, something went wrong with a switch, the parents dumped the new one and the court wouldn’t taken him back and left both of them out in the forest alone. I couldn’t just leave them there!”

Virgil scuttles backwards at the mention of the Fae, dark ears flicking backwards as he disappears off to his own den. He’s had bad dealings with them in the past. Remy takes his place, reaching out to poke one of the boys, but Patton snaps at his fingers with his teeth bared, holding them both protectively close.

Logan watches it all happen impassively.

The Changeling boy keeps looking at him, bright eyes reading something in him that the human boy doesn’t. He’s a beautiful child of course- the Fae would deliver nothing less- and perhaps the switch really was bungled because there’s a certain sharpness to his face that implies something wasn’t quite finished off. He doesn’t have the same human warmth to his cheeks that the second boy does, and those glowing eyes are a concern. But despite that he trembles and clings to his… brother, and his new minder Patton, seeking the safety Patton has proven to provide.

“Where did you say you found them?” Logan asks, mind whirring with options.

Patton wilts, inferring incorrectly that he’s going to be ordered to leave them again. “They can’t survive alone, Logan, please let me just look after them- I’ll hunt for them and protect them and keep them in here until they’re older!”

“Patton you misunderstand me. If the Fae are making messes like this then we must keep an eye out, perhaps consult the border watchers just in case.”

“So…” Patton perks up slowly, glancing down at the boys with growing hope in his eyes. “I can keep them?”

Logan turns to head out of the den, Remy hurries out of the way. “You may keep them. Although I believe it would be more accurate to say that we will be keeping them. Bring them out when they’re settled and we can do the introductions. And Patton?” He looks back over his shoulder from the entrance, a faint smile playing around his usually serious mouth.

“Yes?”

“Congratulations on becoming a father.”

Patton glows with pride.

--

Next

[callunavulgari]

Rules: Tag 9 people who you want to know better/catch up with and then answer these questions.

Thanks for the tag @wellhalesbells!!

3 SHIPS

lan wangji and wei ying from the untamed.   i know, i know. this surprises absolutely none of you who have been drowning in my posts about them. it just literally hits on every single thing i love. it’s got a little friends to lovers while ALSO keeping the spice of rivals/enemies to lovers. it’s got SIXTEEN YEARS of yearning. it has the tragedy that is lan wangji head over heels for this dumb mess of a boy and not saying the right things and watching him tumble further and further down the rabbit hole that is revenge and then losing him forever. it has lan wangji in the present day steadfast and refusing to back down from wei ying’s side because he got him back. who gets that kind of chance? of course he’s not going to make the same mistakes he did the first time around. it has every single look shared between these two and wei ying’s sunshine smiles and fuck if i’m not a sucker for a good villain story. but like - this is even better than the usual villain origin story? because you get to watch every moment of wei ying’s stumble. you get him as a devoted brother and friend. you get him as the flirt - the boy who is trying so desperately to pull on lan wangji’s pigtails to get him to notice him. you get the wen chao fucking shit up and those first initial missteps as tragedy starts to seep into the story. you get lotus pier. you get jiang cheng and the golden core. you get the burial mounds. and then you get wei ying, harder and a little broken and impossibly powerful and let’s all be honest, really sexy because who’d have thought that all powerful necromancers bent on revenge are really something else? and you get to watch lan wangji realize the path his soulmate is on and desperate to stop it but so unsure how. and then it’s too late! except it’s not! and turns out it goes so far beyond that and then they’re basically married and have a kid together and wei ying, while yes being a powerful necromancer bent raised from the dead, is not actually the vilain in this fairytale? and just UGH. literally. i am so boned over this show. it is beautiful. and those characters might not have ever kissed but goddamn that was a better love story than any i’ve seen before.

ryan and shane from buzzfeed unsolved/watcher entertainment. this also probably doesn’t surprise many people. i’m usually fairly allergic to rpf, but this ship here was definitely the exception. there is SO MUCH chemistry between them and they’re just generally great to watch. i marathoned unsolved after reading a vampire!shane fic sometime last year (this one, for those curious) and was just goners. done-zo. dunzo? whatever, i was gone for them. and the fic was great too! there’s a lot of genre variation and AUs and spooky stuff and DEMON shane and i recently read one where ryan was one of the fae? and another one where shane was a kelpie? and i am HERE for creature feature aus. and then there’s the poly fics with ryan/shane/sara which also scratch a very particular itch and are hot and sweet and domestic and i just. i really like them. i love the dynamic. i love the fic. i love the art. i LOVE watcher entertainment and i hate that they’ve been screwed over by this pandemic and really hope they’re able to get over this hurdle because it is GOOD content. 

xue yang and xiao xingchen and song lan from the untamed. this is at least partially cheating in my eyes because it’s from the same fandom but look at all the fucks i give. i give zero fucks. this ship. is. so. fucking. PROBLEMATIC. and i’m sorry, but i unrepentantly love it. xue yang is a complete monster child. he is the garbage gremlin that wei ying only wishes he was. he was a little tiny monster and gets every bit that is coming to him but the yi city arc FUCKED me up. and this is coming from the person who accidentally slept through xiao xingchen and song lan’s initial introduction. their story is just so perfectly tragic and on the off chance someone is reading this and thinking about watching, i won’t go into the details, but TRAGEDY. it is tragic. and i LIVE for modern AUs where they are living their slutty horrible lives to the best of their abilities. it is catnip to me. you know what else is catnip? modern AUs where they are living their slutty horrible lives with a super special side of reincarnation. 

Not listed, but also important... every other ship in The Untamed. Also Wen Qing deserved better.

oh. and uh, i guess dean and castiel should at least be somewhere on this post because they’ve been on my mind so damn much.

LAST SONG I LISTENED TO

currently listening to beach life-in-death by car seat headrest because i read a fic at 4am and it made me listen to the entire album. no regrets except it is shockingly to my exes taste so she keeps popping into my head. last track i listened to was winter wheat by john samson. this one is on my playlist because it was in the comments of a tumblr post about soundtracks to bleed out into a field to.

CURRENTLY WATCHING

so. the thing about covid is that it really fucks with your attention span. like, it physically hurts me to look at a screen for long periods of time now, so i haven’t been watching a whole lot in general. also, we’re moving on friday so if i’m not napping or laying in bed thinking about napping i am dragging my sorry, tired body around the apartment stuffing things in boxes. it’s been a rough few months, guys. 

i am really trying to think of the last thing i watched. i watched the eurovision song contest and over the moon around the same time right before my covid symptoms started forcing me to do nothing but sleep. and i think i watched over the garden wall sometime near the end of october?

oh, oh! i rewatched v for vendetta on november 5th. does that count?

tagging the usual suspects, but only if they want to do it. you know who you are. ;)

[mor-beck-more-problems]

Desperate Gal Pals of White Crest || Morgan & Cece

TIMING: Current

PARTIES: @thebickedwitchoftherest & @mor-beck-more-problems

SUMMARY: Morgan and Cece hit a roadblock with their research on an exorcism, so they take a field trip.

CONTAINS: drug manipulation tw (magic poisoning), gun (not fired), 

“I know I literally can’t get tired, but if I see one more book handwave harm exorcisms away with ‘wooo dark magic’ and ‘oooh dangerous! Sacrifice!’ I am going keel over with exhaustion. You’ll have to call Regan for my autopsy and explain to my girlfriend that boredom and no helpful answers is the new hip cause of death.” Morgan flopped down the side of the couch, her head dangling over the edge. “Tell me you’ve got something to banish Puritain Carrie,” she groaned. “I need a win. Literally...any kind of win. A can of seltzer of a win.”

Cece was lying on her back on the ground, book in hand and avoiding reading it by listening to Morgan’s melodramatic self-eulogy. She at least knew how to spice up a story and make it more interesting. She made dying of boredom sound marginally interesting. The irony was not lost on Cece. “That’s a lot of pressure to put on me for the record. How am I supposed to talk at your funeral and make your death sound badass that way?” Cece eventually gave in, shutting the book and tossing it away from her in her own dramatic show of exacerbation. “Nothing. These books have lots about magic and yet a surprisingly lacking amount of ghosts. My coven really should have expanded their horizons a bit.” Cece stated, mostly to herself. She rolled over onto her stomach, finding Morgan’s eyes again and pushing herself up, “We need some new source material. There’s got to be somewhere around town with some decent exorcism knowledge, right?”

“You’ll have to make something up much cooler,” Morgan sighed. “Just don’t promise any of my fae friends to tell the truth about me and you’ll be good.” She looked over at the pile of books around them, new purchases on the diamond card Deirdre had gotten for her, and pulls from the Scribrary. She felt guilty about those the most, sneaking in and using Rio’s resources for something he was bound to hate. “We have to be looking in the wrong place. The wrong key-words, or the wrong sections in the library. You would think ‘most brutal harm exorcism’ would be a short dig, but…” She puffed air through her lips. “Apparently the powers that be think discretion is super ‘in.’ Tell me what you found. Let’s go over it again.”

“No worries there. I don’t like making promises to humans.” Cece laughed, thinking of any ideas she could to spice up Morgan’s imagined death and make it a bit more grandeur. She wondered how she could fit fireworks into the story. Maybe one of the daredevil car jumps through a flaming circle. No, this was all way too distracting when she was supposed to be focusing. She shook the thought away and reached for the notepad that she had used to take any notes that she found vaguely helpful. Emphasis on vague. “Nothing too useful. I found some old history on this former Scribe that studied exorcisms. John something. Sounded like a real bore. I got an autobiography by this Amanda Wallace chick who wrote about her haunted house and how she got rid of it. Not exactly sure how factual that one actually is. Basically, I have nothing but crap. You sure we can’t just call the ghostbusters in for this one?”

Morgan’s brow furrowed at the name Wallace. “Is that name from a comic book movie? It sounds familiar…” She turned herself right side up and crawled to Cece to read over her shoulder. She moved so fast, her focus was groggy, but the illustration on the page she was looking at definitely seemed familiar. “No, wait, that’s...fuck, that was in something I read. Not here but…” Morgan fumbled for her laptop and started digging through her browsing history. She looked sheepishly over at Cece, glad that she couldn’t blush. “...Don’t judge me, okay?” She mumbled. Buried under searches for pirated theory articles, halloween themed lingerie, and Buzzfeed quizzes for Which Character from Grey’s Anatomy Are You, was several rows of local blogs, niche social media groups, old news reports, and PDF access links. Morgan scrolled past them all to get to an access link to an article from the library. There was the same picture, Amanda Wallace and a few others. The caption read, Cromwell was mentored in his early years by the local Ghost Watchers Society. Pictured, left to right… The article was about a man named Ernie Cromwell. He was arrested, several times, for vandalism, arson, and public disturbance. He claimed he needed to in order to make the ghosts go away. He also escalated to a much more deadly life of crime after this, around  the period Roy ought to have been town. That’s why she’d been looking in the first place. “Hey, Cece?” She asked. “You wouldn’t happen to know if any of these people are alive, do you?”

“I hope you know that prefacing with that only makes me want to judge you that much more.” Cece perked up immediately, if she wasn’t interested in studying Morgan’s open tabs before, she was definitely interested now. Fortunately, it was so much better than what Cece had predicted. “Oh my god. This might be more embarrassing than if you just had like straight up porn in your search history. Which for the record, I’m in full support of.” Cece added in, finger gunning and winking in Morgan’s direction. “Please tell me you’re an Izzie too.” Cece tried focusing again once Morgan asked her a question about recognizing anyone. She scanned the page but shrugged after a long moment, “I wish I could be more useful. But most of my magic knowledge was before I got to town. I’ve been about as low key as I can manage since I’ve been to town.”

Morgan rolled her eyes. “I appreciate the sex positivity, and so does my girlfriend. And, you know, hopefully she appreciates the spider web themed set I ended up buying. And I’ve taken way too many and no matter what I do, I’m solid 50% Izzie or Meredith. My dark and twisty ways defy simple categories.” She wiggled her brow, mouth curling into a grin, and turned back to the picture. “I swear I’ve seen these faces somewhere. And the names. You don’t remember any from the paper or…” Morgan took out her phone, scrolling furiously. “Oh. Mother of Earth! Oh, this is so weird!” She showed Cece an event page on the UMWC social media page. Two people stood next to a handmade poster advertising GhostWatch Parties. Ostensibly, it was a horror film club. But the names of the two faculty shown were Amanda Wallace and Leigh Cromwell. There was no accounting for coincidence, but it seemed pretty likely that there was a connection to Ernie. “They’re meeting tonight. We have to go, right? Scope things out, set up a time to talk better and see what they can offer, or ask if they have any exorcist finding tips! We’re going, right?”

“Anything for you, as usual.” Cece might not be Deirdre’s biggest fan, but she still wished for a killer sex life for the two. “You know? I can see it, honestly. I support it. Among the characters you could get, I think those are two of the better ones.” Morgan seemed sure that the faces would be familiar, so Cece did her best to study them again, but just ended up shrugging. “You think I read the paper?” She asked the woman curiously. Not a moment later and Morgan was poking the screen and then changing pages to find a social media page. From the college. Cece gasped overdramatically, “Right under your nose this whole time? Also, do you think this horror movie club accepts members that don’t go to the college? Actually never mind that’s not important right now.” Cece jumped up and found her bag, moving towards the coat closet to slip her jacket on. “Well obviously we have to go. What other choice do we have? Plus I need to find out if this club is even worth my time. Which is obviously like a side objective. Priority is the ghost thing for sure. Let’s go!”

The GhostWatchers of White Crest met at Professor Wallace’s ivy covered town house near campus. The gathering was small; only three cars littered the street beyond the driveway. Morgan parked them at the end of the street, positioned to make a quick and easy getaway. The bue-white light of a television illuminated one of the back rooms, bright enough to illuminate parts of the yard as Morgan approached. She knocked on the door gently, but found it already open. Inside was exactly what you would expect from a liberal arts professor. Stacks of papers, catalogues for bamboo kitchenware, and books bursting with post-it’s in every room. Morgan wrinkled her nose at the normalcy of it all. At least she kept a few decorative skull paperweights in the great room and kept the foyer clean.

“How do you think we should play this?” She asked in a whisper, lingering in the front hall, one eye on the back den where the movie, The Innocents, was still going on. “Is it rude if we snoop around first? Should we split up?” Somewhere, she thought, there had to be a private library.

“Wow this place is boring.” Cece yawned as the two slid in through the open door and studied the office that they found themselves in. “You’d think that someone obsessed with exorcisms might have a bit more personality.” She pushed aside a self help book lying on the desk and took a glance at her desk calendar, “She has scheduled times for lunch.” As if that was the most boring thing on the planet.

Either this woman was the worst occultist she had ever seen, or all of her more interesting things were hidden away somewhere. “It’s totally rude, but technically speaking she’s the one that left the door open. She should be more careful about her belongings. So let’s snoop.” Cece wasted no time moving to dig through her other belongings. Given how nonchalant the rest of the room was, Cece wasn’t convinced they were going to find anything too bizarre or helpful just sitting out in the open.

“Oh, didn’t I tell you? They hired me because the fun department was empty,” Morgan teased. She watched her feet carefully as she tiptoed onto the plush carpet with her muddy leather oxfords. She hadn’t planned on playing hide and seek in some dusty mini-mansion when she’d left the house, so she was left cringing at every squeak the leather made on the floor and hoping against hope that everyone in the den was too engrossed in the movie to notice.

As luck would have it, the library was one room off from the den. Morgan pointed at it, giving Cece a look of, I don’t know if I got this. One foot, then the other. Could Cece get in there first.

In the den, someone yawned and got up, murmuring about refills. Morgan dropped to the floor, panic in her eyes. Was this the worst idea ever?

The library had to have something useful. If it was just filled with normal literature and more self help books, Cece was going to lose her mind. At least Morgan seemed pretty into the whole espionage thing, tiptoeing around the place and slipping through the door into the library as silently as a mouse. That swiftness and suave attitude seemed to dissipate when movement could be heard from farther in, someone getting up to get a refill. Morgan dropped immediately and Cece remained in the doorway, unsure what the best thing to do in this scenario was. Would the person asking even come this way? Cece crept back a few steps, peaking around to get just a moment’s glance of someone walking towards them. They would definitely see Morgan if something wasn’t done. Would these people be more interested in calling the cops or offing anyone in their way? Cece couldn’t be sure enough, so she figured her only option was to be a distraction of some sort. Back in the office, Cece found a paper weight on the desk and pushed it aside, sliding it off the desk with a loud crack against the floor. That ought to do some distracting.

Morgan heard the paperweight fall before she realized what Cece was doing. Her head whipped around, question marks sprouting all over her face. But whoever was heading her way turned the other direction to see the commotion, and Morgan was able to take her chance. Hopefully Cece wouldn’t be so far behind.

The library was the same as the rest of the house, expected to the point of comical. There were shelves of matching leatherbound British novels, another set of American ones, a whole row of paperbacks and theory that were almost certainly just for posturing, and… who lived like this? Who actually worked here? This was a magazine-style library. Which meant-- “Fuck.” Morgan covered her mouth and flinched. Too loud. Right.

She started peeking behind books, looking for hidden volumes, then the large desk centered at the back of the room. No one really had secret compartment doors, at least not here, the house was too small but-- Morgan kicked back the rug that covered the floor. Cut into the pale hardwood was a heavy door, older and darker, with a black handle that looked to be iron. She peeked her head out, searching for Cece to get her over here, quickly, before anyone realized how reckless they were being in a stranger’s house.

The door was well-oiled and rose silently at Morgan’s tug, and inside-- “Yes!” Beams of light from the other room flashed on. The shadows in the library vanished. It was time to hurry.

Cece ducked behind the desk to avoid whoever was coming towards her. She had successfully distracted the man from discovering Morgan but hadn’t quite thought through the fact that the man would now be coming towards the source of the noise that Cece had caused. Cece began rifling through her purse quickly, pulling a bin of powder free and cupping some into the palm of her hand. Once the footsteps finally became close enough, Cece popped up from behind the counter. “Hi there.”

The man jumped before settling on a confused expression, “Who are you?” He asked, more curious than angry. Probably unsure if Cece was supposed to be there in the first place. “Uh-” Cece began, trying for a long moment to think of an excuse for too long before finally giving up, “I can’t think of a good excuse” She shrugged before pulling her hand up and opening her palm, blowing and sending the powder directly into his face. He stumbled backwards and Cece jumped forward, grabbing onto his shirt and helping direct his fall into the chair by the desk. She patted him softly. Better to get some rest right there.

She slipped across the floor until she found Morgan and then crawled over to her, “For the record I didn’t sign up for this” Cece whispered at her, eyeing the new door that she had discovered. Before hearing more voices. “Welp, after you!”

Morgan’s muscles were already clenched with confusion and unspoken questions. “Sign up for what?” She hissed. “You said we should snoop! Nothing bad has happened, right? And look at all the spooky books down there!” She shined the flashlight on her phone down the ladder, showing tables full of messy, half open books, arcane circles etched on leather, and iron chimes dangling from the ceiling. “Oh, yes, this is the jackpot.”

“Is it now?” A voice called behind them.

Morgan barely suppressed a squeal as Amanda Wallace filled in the doorway. Her straw-white hair seemed to puff up out of sheer rage. “I don’t remember receiving your RSVP, Professor Beck,” she said stiffly. “May I ask what you are doing in my library, opening my trap door?” A smaller, slightly younger head popped up over Amanda’s shoulder and murmured that she’d see the students out. Leigh Cromwell, probably. Guess they weren’t too late for the party after all.

“Hey, Amanda--!” Morgan drew out the words longer, as if a few more syllables in Amanda would help smooth things over, or give her a better idea about what to do next.

“Don’t ‘hey’ me,” Amanda snapped, bristling with a bitter frown. Downstairs, now.” She pointed into the dimly lit trapdoor room, and her look did not suggest that she was entertaining counterarguments at the moment.

“Ummm” Cece considered what may or may not be considered to be bad in Morgan’s mind. And depending on that, whether or not she wanted to share that with Morgan. Putting a man to sleep was hardly that bad, right? She didn’t hurt the man. He would wake up and at worst his memory would be a bit foggy and maybe have some nausea. Nothing that would last more than a week. “Define bad.”

Morgan was right, this was a jackpot. The space was different from the rest of the house. It didn’t look like the end result of an HGTV makeover, for starters. It wasn’t basic or expected. This room was hidden away and it was used. This woman that the two were spying on definitely used this room.

Speaking of the woman they were spying on. Apparently they had been discovered. Cece awkwardly watched  the exchange. Apparently the two were super close work colleagues. “If there was no RSVP, does that mean she wasn’t supposed to bring a plus one?” Cece grinned slightly, completely ignored by the woman and instead following behind Morgan as the two were led away from the space they had just found.

Morgan backed down into the room, feeling, all of a sudden, that she should have told more people where she was going. Of course, she’d told Deirdre they had a lead, but if she were to drop a pin right now, would Deirdre know what to do with it? Remmy might, but the part where she had to explain what she was doing here might not lead to the best of conversations. But, fortunately, there weren’t any high tech keypads standing in their way of getting out. Just one seriously perturbed old woman.

Morgan made her way over to where the stacks of books were the largest and the shelves were packed to bursting. She looked for sigils, icons, anything recognizable. No one ever labeled ‘find harm here,’ but there were unavoidable markers if you knew how to look for them.

“I should report you to the police, for trespassing,” Amanda snapped. “And I could do much worse. But I would like to know first, Professor Beck, what you are doing in my trapdoor of all things. Do you have no respect for others?”

“On the contrary--” Morgan said carefully, flashing Cece big ‘what do we do?’ eyes, “I have the utmost respect for you and your interests.” She backed away until she could back no further. “The interests you keep a secret, especially. I think I might have something that’s of interest to your attention. A ghost something that is, let’s say, too good for mercy.” She reached out for one of the tomes, a leatherbound journal, by the look of it. Not as old as it was pretending to be, and bursting with pasted-in clips and notes.

“Not so fast.” She took out a little pearl handled pistol, gold and shiny, like something out of Agatha Christie. She cocked the safety with a slow, deliberate click. “That’s sensitive material, Professor. Access has to be earned. Tell me the truth, do what I say, and maybe we’ll see about it.”

The two hadn’t found themselves in an ideal situation, Cece was willing to admit that much. The woman that had discovered them hardly seemed especially dangerous. She was a college professor, taller than Cece was but that was hardly an impressive feat. The only thing she looked capable of seriously harming was a student’s grade point average. Still, the woman had enough to hide that she kept it hidden beneath the library, and she really didn’t like the intrusion by her colleague.

Morgan attempted to sweet talk her way out of it. Honestly, Morgan came across as such a pleasant person that Cece probably would have laughed it off if she had found the woman trespassing in her own home. Then again, maybe that didn’t count when Morgan had already previously lived with her. When Morgan reached for a book, hopefully one that Morgan deemed important, Amanda acted with an elevated decree of hostility. Looked like a bingo to Cece. The woman pulled out a small handgun, pointing it at Morgan but still eyeing Cece every now and again. She didn’t show much interest in Cece at all, which may have been more a mistake than anything else. “Your terms and conditions don’t sound all that appealing.” Cece called to her, straightening her back to give herself the appearance of being taller. She wasn’t sure that it worked. “Don’t get me wrong. You have the upper hand here. We’re totally up to no good. But don’t you have a door number three option?”

The woman finally looked Cece over. It had probably been the first time that she had offered her anymore than a passing glance, “I don’t even know who you are. This doesn’t concern you in the slightest.” She turned away from Cece again, but irritation seemed evident. Cece slowly dug into her purse again. She knew she had something else useful in there it was just a matter of rifling around until she found out. Once she did, she popped the lid off and dipped her fingers into it. “I just wanted to give you the option of rethinking your offer. Morgan and I have places to be. Let us go now and we can all enjoy the rest of our nights in peace.”

This time the woman finally turned the gun away from Morgan and towards Cece, at the same time that Cece rose up her hand and grabbed onto the woman’s wrist. “Have you ever heard of curare?” Cece asked the woman, a hint of curiosity in her voice. Though nothing apparent was happening, the woman hadn’t yet pulled the trigger and instead looked silently at Cece. “Some hunting tribes use it to paralyze prey. Normally, it doesn’t have a lot of effect on humans if ingested orally or through the skin.” By the woman’s expression, it was clear the effects had started to take effect now, “But with a bit of alchemy, it can be altered. All of a sudden, it just takes a tiny bit rubbed against the skin to get into the blood system. As Amanda began to fall back, Cece grabbed onto the gun, letting it slip from the woman’s hands as she crashed against the ground. “You should be able to talk still, it might just be a little mumbled. So try to speak up.”

Cece set the gun against the shelf and crossed her arms, “You got any questions for her?” she asked Morgan. Cece wasn’t sure this counted as life or death exactly, but the gun hadn’t been entirely promising. At this rate, Cece knew that she’d have to do something at the end to make sure that Amanda didn’t hold an unfriendly grudge against the two of them. Cece had gone this long, but now in the span of just a few weeks she would be whipping out the memory spell twice. Yikes. “Spare no details, something tells me that Amanda’s memory of the night might end up a bit fuzzy anyways.”

Morgan was scurrying for Cece and wishing zombies had super speed when it happened. She couldn’t let Cece get hurt and didn’t Cece know she was basically bullet-proof? Not one more friend, not one more life she cared about was going down because of-- and then Amanda’s face was going slack and she was sinking to the floor, and Cece was giving a pretty impressive speech of her own. “Holy shit,” Morgan whispered, suddenly feeling a little woozy with shock. Then, as it settled, “You...are so amazing, Cece!” She ran over and gave her a hug, ecstatic with relief. “Okay, so, one of your proteges was arrested for what sounded like some serious supernatural damage, and he said he had to get the ghosts. So I’m thinking you know a lot about exorcisms, maybe harm exorcisms, specifically?”

Amanda made some unintelligible noises that sounded aggravated enough to mean ‘yes’ to Morgan.

“Great! So, where would I find those? Is it here? Or--here? Or--” At the sound more throaty, aggravated groaning, Morgan knew she was right on the money. She hauled out everything from the self she could carry and started looking. “Woah, Nelly, some of these pages are torn from other volumes.” Morgan peered over the desk at Amanda on the floor. “Have you been defacing historical archives? That’s not very polite, you know. I wonder what would happen if I reported some of these original books as damaged and gave your name? That might be a bummer for research funding and future archive access, right?” Satisfied with her fun, she started flipping through, grateful that even though Amanda was a thief, she was at least an organized one. There was a handy table of contents and index between each hodge podge volume, and by some topics there was a reference number that seemed to correspond to a file, probably in the cabinet at the other end of the room.

Amanda made another slurry attempt at speech.

Morgan’s face crinkled. “French Revolution? Did you hear French Revolution?” She gave Cece a look to make sure she hadn’t misunderstood and started checking dates throughout her haul. Sure enough, there was a hefty volume with some emphasis on the 18th century and quite a few notes in French and English as she started flipping through. “Cece, come look at this,” she said. “I think this… I think I found something! What do these ingredients look like to you?”

If Cece had any worries that Morgan might think she had taken things too far, those fears were immediately quelled when Morgan launched into a hug. Cece hugged back, keeping her finger away from any of Morgan’s skin, “I don’t think this would work on zombies, but better not take the chance.” Considering the rest of the abilities that Morgan had now that she was undead, Cece wasn’t convinced it would have paralyzed her the way it had Amanda. If it did, the fast healing probably would have fixed her pretty quickly. But better to avoid the situation regardless. “But that was nothing. Didn’t want her messing up one of our pretty faces.”

Morgan was far better at searching and researching than Cece was. The extent of Cece’s reading had gone into her plans to get away from the coven. Since then, the books she had stolen and brought with her mostly stayed hidden in the floorboards of her closet. Something for a rainy day, if it ever came. For the most part, Cece scanned the shelves as Morgan actually talked to the woman and searched for something that was useful to her.

Cece hadn’t heard French Revolution at first, but hearing Morgan question it made Cece laugh and clap for Morgan’s better hearing skills, “You know I thought I heard bitch contusion but that makes way more sense.” Morgan flipped through a volume and called Cece over to look at something, but the symbols on the page weren’t like anything Cece had worked with before. “Yikes.” Cece started, trying to look for smaller details and anything that did look familiar, “I can pick out a few things. I see some containment symbols. Probably used to keep something trapped. But nothing that I’ve worked with before.”

“Me either,” Morgan admitted, “But that--” she pointed to the word, “Is definitely French for spirit, and some of these ingredients look like they’re obeying sympathetic principles for inflicting pain. I’m gonna need a dictionary or three to figure some of this out, and you know, an expert, but you saw the containment sigil too, right!” She snapped the book shut and held it close to her chest, her eyes shining with relief. “I think this is it, Cece. I think this is--” Morgan was lost for words and only smiled, glowing with gratitude for her friend. “This is the key to everything I’ve been looking for.”

“Well I know a guy if you need a French interpreter.” Cece stated nonchalantly, “Can’t promise he won’t be grumpy about it though.” Cece couldn’t keep an easy grasp on who in town knew who, but it seemed like a safe bet that Morgan and Kaden were acquainted. “Fuck yeah! Former roomies strike again!” Cece called out triumphantly, raising her hand for a high five. Once the two were done celebrating, Cece remembered that they had company. Cece spun around to their host for the night and clapped her hands together, “Amanda. You’ve just been so welcoming tonight, truly. We had a great time. We’re going to wrap up and then I promise it’ll be like we were never even here.” Cece scooted towards her and knelt down towards the woman. “Are we done here Morgan?”

Morgan joined Cece beside her colleague, still light on her feet with victory and beaming with pride in her friend. “We do make pretty good partners in crime if I say so myself,” she said. “And, you know, aside from, hmm---” She reached back over to the desk and took a couple more books. “These. Just for good measure. And fun. Trespassing is rude, Professor Wallace, but pulling guns on your colleagues is far worse.” She nodded at Cece to work her magic. They’d gotten what they came for and then some.

“This probably won’t hurt,” Cece began, pressing her fingers against Amanda’s temple, “Or if it does you won’t remember it. Which is basically the same thing.” Amanda’s eyes were frantic at first, darting back and forth almost definitely trying to will her body to move. But soon they settled, floating shut as Cece dove into her memories to pluck them free. She figured the last half hour or so would do the trick. The woman would be left with a lot of blurry portions on the night, undoubtedly waking up in this room to wonder how she had gotten here. But those were hardly Cece’s concerns. She made sure to go back far enough to when Amanda started suspecting someone was here. Once Cece was done, she left Amanda on the floor and stood up, “She should be waking up soon. She should be able to move shortly after. If you have what we need, we should get out of here.” Cece suggested, heading towards the exit of the room before snapping and swinging back towards her, “Actually, now is probably the best time to mention that there may be another person that conveniently fell asleep in the office. We may want to stop by on our way out and wipe him too. Just to be safe.”

Morgan stopped halfway on the stairs they came down in just to gape at Cece in awe. “Remind me to never underestimate you for the rest of your days. And maybe bring you up on my list of people to call next time I need help with the forces of darkness. You’re a dangerous lady, Cece Bishop…” She gave Cece a chivalrous hand out of the cellar, grinning in the evening light. “But, then again, so am I sometimes.”

[fairly-small-love]

Fairly Small Asks (9)

Anonymous asked: I'm the spirit of a witch, willing to help all of you, snake and virgil, roman and Logan. If you will accept?-🕯

“Say what?” Roman asked, biting his lip. “I…..thank you for the offer but…..no thank you. I really don’t wanna be tricked again….not saying you will, but I wana be cautious.”

“I will have to agree with Roman. You seem lovely but I……well I don’t think we we should be making anymore deals with the supernatural.”

-----

“Say what? A witch wants to help someone?” Virgil asked, never having heard of a good witch.

Snake hissed, barring his fangs. “What do you want in return, witch?”

Anonymous asked: I am generally a silent watcher but Virgil, Snake, I hate to tell you but Patton knows you two are together and he is NOT PLEASED. Snake, I suggest you heed Virgil's warnings a little more. Have you never noticed any red flags from Patton? I know he is fae and doesn't quite follow our mortal norms but you must at least admit his behavior is concerning.

“Patton is a bit…..odd,” Snake agreed, shrugging. “But I trust him….I trust him a lot. He saved me……and he hasn’t let me like……” he trailed off, biting his lips. “Nevermind.”

just-some-gt-trash asked: I don't know, I think Snake wad going back to his home

“I might…..but I might not,” Snake mumbled, tapping his foot. “I really want to see Patton today.”

Anonymous asked: Patton! Snake is giving Virgil his full name!!

Patton scoffed, rolling his eyes. “He won’t! My Snake is Smart! Even smarter than my Logan Alvis!”

Anonymous asked: Hey Virgil are you gonna give Snake your name if he gives you his full name?🐺

“I haven’t decided yet! Don’t rush me!” Virgil cried out, sighing. “I will do what I want, on my time!”

Anonymous asked: I want nothing in return. my mother was an evil witch, but I refuse to follow in her footsteps- 🕯

“I don’t believe that!” Roman mumbled, shaking his head.

“Prove it then,” Logan huffed, adjusting his tie with a hint of annoyance. “If you are such a good witch, prove it. What is going on….and where is Virgil?”

Anonymous asked: Virgil is with a man named snake, who Patton is trying to take. Virgil and Snake are at odds right now, Snake not listening to virgil. Because of his size, Snake believes Virgil to be not human, below a human- 🕯

“Oh…….that is very…..worrisome. I…..as much as it pains me to say, I wish Virgil the best and I hope he escapes.” Logan felt a pit growing in his stomach. He had no idea what it was but it was red……it was hot and red and ugly. He felt……he wasn’t sure, but whatever it was, it wasn’t good.

just-some-gt-trash asked: So you’re going back once you finish talking with Virgil?

“I don’t know!” Snake snapped, hissing. “Look, you are a rational spirit, I can see that! Just give me a second to decide what I need to do….okay?”

just-some-gt-trash asked: Roman, Logan, have you tried to escape before?

“I have plenty of times before…..but Logan’s help makes it easier.”

“We both have…….at least 3,768 times Logan answered, biting his lip. “I keep a log of all our escape attempts. It helps us-”

“You forgot about Delta, Epi, and Torched Wings,” Roman answered, sighing. “Our attempts from last week.”

“Make that 3,771.”

Anonymous asked: Roman, Logan, maybe if Virgil is able to escape he’ll find a way to help you guys too. 🐺

“Would he actually? Or would he just leave us to rot in this hell hole?”

“Roman he would try and-”

“Don’t be so sure specs……we don’t know that guy.”

just-some-gt-trash asked: Maybe the 3,772nd is the good one!

“I’ve given up, I’m never getting out if this box, me and Logan can’t even die!” Roman cried out, sighing. “I……I found that out the hard way when I…..fell.”

Anonymous asked: Hey Virgil, if you manage to escape and get back to normal would you try to help Roman and Logan? They’ve tried escaping before too. 🐺

“Yeah I would try but I’m scared…..I don’t want to die……I don’t wanna see Patton every again.” Virgil tensed, ignoring how Snake gave him a look.

just-some-gt-trash asked: Is that why Patton keeps you in the box? Because you fell?

“N-No……Not that at all. In fact he…..he pushed me off. He made me fall the first time.”

just-some-gt-trash asked: HE MADE YOU WHAT!?

Roman jumped at the yell, covering his ears. “N-nothing! forget I said anything!” he cried out, ducking under the pillow and hiding away from the spirits.

just-some-gt-trash asked: Sorry sorry, I didn’t mean to yell, I was just surprised

Roman sniffled, staying silent.

“I believe Roman is upset now…..please direct further questions to me.”

Anonymous asked: Patton have you ever hurt one of you treasures? Even by accident?🐺

“Nope!” Patton giggled, lazily floating through the woods. “Why would I hurt them?”

just-some-gt-trash asked: Logan did you know about the... fall thing?

“Yes I do,” Logan mumbled, tensing. “He……well Patton likes to…..find out our breaking points. He has done a number of other things to us as well……since we are only glorified dolls to him.”

Anonymous asked: Logan, I believe I know how to help you escape. But you're gonna have to trust me-🕯

“Ah, it’s you again. Greetings,” Logan gave a small wave, happy to see a……not a depressed face. He glanced at Roman, who had still not come out from under the pillow. “And I….I really, really do not want to trust another being……we see how that worked out, yes?”

just-some-gt-trash asked: I-I’m sorry to hear that...

“It is not your fault,” Logan mumbled, sighing. “Roman he…..got the worst of it. He…..Patton likes to break him the most. You can see why we were worried for Virgil when we received news of his escape, yes?”

Anonymous asked: Patton have you ever made them do something that would kill a normal human at their size? 🐺

“Nope!” Patton grinned, nodding. “Why would I ever hurt them?” He repeated, humming softly to himself.

Anonymous asked: Wait are you going somewhere Patton? 🐺

“Where would I be going?” Patton asked, shrugging. “I’m just flying around….no harm in that, right?”

Anonymous asked: I understand completely, I'm sorry if I'm being pushy. I can’t stand seeing people hurt. Especially when...oh never mind-🕯

“I um…….you aren’t pushy….what was your idea for an….escape attempt?”

Anonymous asked: Patton I have a feeling that you’re lying to us 🐺

“Why would I ever lie to you?”

Anonymous asked: I know a spell that allows the blood relative of the person to swap places with the other. And since I am, it would work-🕯

“I would never bring a blood relative into this madness……besides that, my blood relatives, along with Roman’s, are all dead now. The only one who would benefit would be Virgil or…..Snake as you say his name is.”

just-some-gt-trash asked: I know it’s not my fault, but now I’m seeing why do you hate this life so much

“That is a good thing. It is worse than that…..I…..I just want to go home.” He knew that if he did get free from Patton, he wouldn’t know what to do. He doesn’t know what modern technology is, or how to really use it. He doesn’t know what he would do with his life.

Anonymous asked: Because you don’t really want to answer us despite the fact that we know you have physically abused all three of the humans you have in your possession and called it punishment. Now where are you going? 🐺

“Where ever I want!”

Anonymous asked: I'm a descendant of Roman's. As for you, you have a great niece- 🕯

“I don’t believe you are. I believe you are lying. And I am not going to make her suffer. That is horrible.”

Anonymous asked: Virgil, Snake, be careful. I think Patton is planning something but he’s being dismissive of all questioning. He might be trying to find you so keep an eye out. 🐺

“We will be. At least I will be,” Snake informed, sighing. “Alright…..alright let’s trade names, shall we?”

just-some-gt-trash asked: I wish I could something to help you guys...

“Your kindness is appreciated,” Logan smiled, biting his lip. “But I am afraid their is nothing to be done.”

[1stunseeliefaelass]

Darksiders Arthurian Tales Revisited

Chapter 1: How It All Starts

Death rolled over slightly as the first signs of morning came. Well the ones outside anyway. Although this was rarely enough to wake him. In these cases, Fuzzball has to come into his room. Finding where the Elder Horsemen sleeps is easy when he usually either passes out at his desk or sleeps in a simple cot. Fuzzball found Death groaning slightly in his sleep before readying himself for a jump. Shimmying in preparation for a lunge at the cot. Finally the little limt hopped at the edge of the cot, and missed. Landing on the floor, on his face with a muffled whimper. His white fur ruffled slightly as he lay upon the floor. Wiggling his little legs normally hidden under his fluffy fur.

Death sat up briefly and asked in a grumble, "What did you do this time?"

Looking over the edge of the cot he found Fuzzball on his face, still whimpering in pain... But it was WAY too early in his opinion, so he'd deal with that when he felt like waking up truly. Suddenly, he heard a knocking at his front door. The moment he got comfy again! Groaning and throwing the blanket over his head, he waited in annoyed silence for them to give up eventually. Fuzzball meanwhile got up off his face and scurried to a side table by the front door. Hung on the side of it was a special key for unlocking the door, and it worked on either side. Fuzzball grabbed the key with a better timed hop than before, then began to scratch at the door. Signifying to the knocker that he'd be answering for Death.

Strife meanwhile backed up confused until Fuzzball hopped through the doggy door. He barked with the key in his mouth to greet his master's brother.

"Hey man, you mind letting me in?" Strife said.

Fuzzball happily handed the key to him and barked some more before rolling over for pets.

Strife chuckled, "You deserve this", before removing his gauntlet to scritch the little guy's belly some. He then put it back on his hand before unlocking the door, calling to his brother upon opening it, "Wake up sleepyhead!"

Death heard him, but gave only a grumble in response.

"You're not a dog, quit it. And you ain't cute enough to be Fuzzball's twin so..." Strife remarked to his oh-so exhausted brother.

"If you seek to patronize me...please leave me before I grab Harvester." Death threatened.

"You'd have grabbed it by now if you felt it was important."

"Speak.", Death then bid of Strife, his hand raised.

Strife looking at him a slight bit offended and stated, "Bitch please."

"Strife, I am NOT IN THE MOOD."

Strife sighed and began to explain the situation, "Council's heard some rumors that King Uther's built a weapon that can cause other weapons to appear."

"Weapon?!", Death replied tossing the pillow off his head, still sounding exhausted.

"Yeah, Council wants us to take a look into it just in case. So if these are rumors then we'd be just having a little vacation basically. And if not, then we'd actually be doing something."

Death looked at his brother before sighing deeply. Then he got up and began to pop his back, "Right."

"And hey, maybe the Fae Realm has better beds for ya." Strife offered to him.

"What is that supposed to mean exactly?"

Strife cocked his head, and then lifted his eyebrow, "Really?", then pointing at the cot he continued, "That is not a bed to be sleeping on. I mean did you hear what you sounded like? It was all like snap crackle pop there."

Death in turn raised his own eyebrow before saying, "Shut up."

"Whatever old man, I'll go make some food." Strife stated simply.

Death sighed to himself again before looking at Fuzzball happily panting on the floor, "What are you so happy about? I'm gonna be gone for a while."

"Yeah, leaving this desolate bone shack." Strife snidely said.

Death gave him an annoyed look before telling him, "Can you quit it with the snide remarks?"

As Death walked out of his room finally, Fuzzball followed him from behind happily. Meanwhile Strife replied, "Come on, you do realize this place is like 'goth heaven' right?"

"And you don't think that's the point?"

"Yeah I know that dude, but come on. This place is a little too dreary." Strife insisted.

Death retorted with, "Says the social butterfly."

Strife however came right back at him, "Says the antisocial workaholic."

The two brothers looked at each other angrily as Fuzzball hid under the table expecting another early morning fight. But was surprised when the two started laughing.

"Please tell me that you're cooking the bacon right." Death implored.

"Yeah yeah yeah, don't worry about it. Now let get to it before it burns."

Death only nodded in response before cracking some drake eggs to cook once the bacon was done. Strife in the meantime began making pancakes alongside him.

"Why add pancakes to this?" Death inquired.

"Well....I didn't exactly eat anything after my workout." Strife replied rubbing his neck.

Sighing Death asked, "Seriously?"

"I was in the middle of it when the watcher showed up!" Strife exclaimed.

Death mumbled under his breath, "And you tell me that I don't eat."

"Do you really eat though man? With the rations you bring on missions and all."

"It's still food." Death stated simply.

"Right right, crap food. Only good for keeping ya from starvation. You-you know what those rations remind me of? Those days when you used to experiment with food."

"It's still edible." Death said in another simple answer.

"Define edible. Because bitch, there ain't anything edible about those rations. I just don't see why you eat such crap, when you cook better than most Angels, and Demons."

Death exhaled a bit whilst Fuzzball whimpered and hid under the table again. Strife took a minute to observe the little critter, "Dude I think we should stop. Before we give Fuzzball a heart attack."

Death looked down under the table after plating the eggs and asked gently, "You alright little one?"

Fuzzball made a small yip and came back out to nuzzle his hand some. Death in response gave him a few small scritches before calmly saying, "It's going to be fine. We're not fighting, we're just having a minor discussion of sorts."

Fuzzball cocked his head making a 'merph' sound as if saying, 'really?'. Death raised an eyebrow again before telling him, "You need to stop learning things from Strife."

"What do you mean? I'm the smartest one in the group!"

"Right, smart." Death mumbled sarcastically.

Strife just shook his head before remembering something, "Oh! Just remembered. You know since this is reconnaissance, I heard that a party was happening down at Uther's castle. It's a Masque, so you won't have to worry about showing your face. But you're probably gonna need to change out what your mask is."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah dude, you have like the most recognizable mask ever. You built up a whole persona around it." Strife remarked.

"What about you?"

Strife shrugged, "Eh, I can change my visor easily. Just make sure you wear something fancy and not....gaudy. I still remember the highwayman outfit."

"I thought it would look better!" Death exclaimed.

"Well it didn't."

Death just shook his head and started to look through a crystal on his study desk. And found a pewter bird mask with a shortened beak. "Will this do?"

"Perfect, now onto something to wear. And no I don't mean the highwayman outfit."

"Yeah yeah." Death said embarrassed.

"Seriously what were you thinking?"

Death spoke in further embarrassment, "I may have been a little drunk at the time."

Strife just shook his head that, "You and your absinthe man."

"Hey! I do not get that drunk!"

"Riiiiiiiiight." Strife remarked snidely.

With that the two gentlemen began getting dressed for the occasion. 'Course Death couldn't help but wonder, how they'd get in without getting thrown out the minute they showed up. A plan would be needed, somehow they'd need to find a way to get invited.

"What exactly do you have planned for us to get in?"

Strife shrugged, "I dunno..."

"We are NOT announcing ourselves." Death stated assertively.

"I know I know I know. We could sneak in. We could pretend we were invited."

"And if we get caught?" Death questioned him.

"Then we make a daring escape." Strife declared.

Death facepalmed and told him, "What a brilliant 'plan'."

"Hey you gotta anything better to try?" Strife questioned him.

Death in frustration as he tried to think of a plan, began to hit his head against the wall. Strife, for lack of any better reaction, watched him. This went on for several minutes.

"How's that helping ya?" Strife inquired after a little while longer.

Death only grumbles before Strife grabs him by his back to stop him from hitting his head further. Death stopped, and looked at him annoyed as Strife simply explained,

"Since you've clearly got no more of your 'ingenius' plans, let's just push our luck. See if it works from there. Ok.", then at Death's grumbling, "Yeah yeah grumble grumble grumble. Let's just get going."

The two Horsemen then went outside, not noticing Fuzzball following them this time. As Death and Strife mounted their steeds, Fuzzball hopped into one of Despair's saddlebags. Hiding himself easily as the brothers began to ride at last. Upon them leaving, a hidden spider in the stable's rafters sent word to his master. From there Barrcus noted this information and then he went to see what Uther had chosen for Morgen to wear this time.

Barrcus went down the hall to see Uther about it and was greeted by quite the monstrosity. The dress he saw Uther tending to was a massive ivory white gown. A long train trailed behind and around it on the mannequin, and golden decals covered the chest and torso regions. The 'shawl' may as well have been poofy sleeves.

Barrcus couldn't help but comment on it, "My lord, is that really a.....'proper' dress for dancing?"

"Hmmm...I guess not." Uther stated simply.

"Yes I would think not."

Uther responded, "I thought not. But what of this one?", then gestured towards a much bigger gold dress with several layers of ruffles and an excess of glitter. Truly the amount of fabric was surely too heavy.

"I would think that would be....too gaudy...too much of eyesore. Don't you think?" Barrcus implored of him.

Uther then cocked his head saying, "I guess so, but what about this dress?", then gesturing to a pastel blue and white dress with an ice motif about it. A far prettier dress than the others. Barrcus however, still found himself unsatisfied with it.

He believed a far better dress could be given to Morgen, and that he'd found it, "How about this one here?"

He revealed a beautiful slender dress of both dark and royal purple in a gradient with rose pink off shoulder sleeves. The decals while gold, also had a flattering mix of silver as well. The waist sash was also a rose pink and hung off to the side of the skirt with gold embroidery. Uther examined the dress and found it too dark for his liking. Sure the pink color was nice, but it didn't look like a true to form Seelie dress.

This much, he informed Barrcus of, "Yes it's a very lovely dress. But it is not suitable for such an occasion. THIS ONE however is perfect, and it exemplifies her Unseelie origins."

Barrcus however was undeterred, being adamant his dress would better. "Yes while that does seem nice it's also a bit....bland. While this one however....", He began whilst gesturing to the butterfly decals on the lower part of the skirt, "...is much more lively."

"Hmm...right."

Vortigern came into the room as the gentlemen began to grow angered at each other. He looked to Uther and queried, "What is going on here brother?"

"Just having a simple 'dispute' over a few dresses." Uther replied.

"A dispute hmm, and what is the problem exactly?" Vortigern questioned.

Barrcus spoke up at that, "We're having a disagreement over a dress for Morgen."

Vortigern raised an eyebrow, "Ah. And why is it you are fighting? A dress for her should be simple to find right?"

"You would think brother. But apparently both me and Barrcus have a disagreement between these two dresses here." Uther stated gesturing between both of them before continuing, "I am vying for this blue and white dress here."

"Whilst I would find it to be more appropriate for Morgen to wear this one here." Barrcus declared.

Vortigern sighed and decided to examine both dresses himself. Whilst the dress Uther picked was better than what he'd normally place her in, it still felt as though it could have something more to it. While Barrcus' pick was a truly complete work of art on fabric. Not to mention a far better choice if Uther intended for Morgen to dance with a few men like he usually wanted.

"Well yes this one is indeed good, I'll have to side with Barrcus on this one brother. For many reasons in fact. One, it's far easier to dance in. Two, it's far more vibrant than that one. Finally, it suits her more. Just imagine her in it."

"I AM imagining her in it." Uther muttered.

"So can you not agree with us Uther? That this dress would suit Morgen the best? That Barrcus chose well in this endeavor?" Vortigern inquired of him.

Uther thought for but a moment on it, "I guess I can see her wearing such a dress, and being 'appealing'."

Vortigern and Barrcus both felt their skin crawl at the choice of words, but when he left both gentlemen simply looked at each other in silence for a while.

Barrcus was the one to break it, "I'll take this up to her room. Would you like me to pass along anything for you?"

"Tell her I'll be along in a moment. There are a few things my brother and I must discuss."

"I will let her know. But she herself has a few things to attend to as well." Barrcus informed him.

"Just make sure she knows that I'm doing well." Vortigern asks of him.

"I'll try....where are the girls by chance?"

"Oh they don't need to see their Father arguing with their Uncle. Not right now at least. Can you make Morgen can keep an eye on them?" Vortigern proposed to him.

"Just send them up to her room and she'll keep a close eye on them. As will Mina." Barrcus informed him.

"Why not yourself?"

"I may have other matters come up in time." Barrcus explained.

"Ah well just make sure the girls get there." Vortigern says.

"I will, but Morgen may have other things to attend to, like I said before."

"Yes of course, and I shall make sure my discussion with my brother is...short." Vortigern stated before walking off. His two young daughters he sent off towards Barrcus after a quick but tight hug.

Both Anna and Elaine hugged Barrcus upon reaching him and greeting him in unison as well, "Hi Mr. Barrcus!"

"Hello girls, how are you doing this fine afternoon?"

"Oh we're good. We ate before we left home." Anna replied.

Barrcus nodded, "Good, now just follow me and you'll be with your cousin shortly."

They followed him closely and wondered what could be under the covered object that Barrcus was wheeling around with them. Before long they reach Morgen's room, just in time for Mina to have finished brushing her hair down for later. Both women greeted the little girls happily, but Morgen was the most happy between them.

"Hello my little sweets. How are you?" Morgen bade them.

"We're good Cousin Morgen!" Anna exclaimed.

"Yeah! Papa says there'll be a party tonight too, can we come?" Elaine begged of her.

"Yes please! We love parties too, they're not too boring! We'll behave." Anna says begging alongside her younger twin.

Morgen chuckled and held fast however, "Now girls, these parties are for adults you know. Nothing children should be seeing at all."

The girls looked at her sadly before Mina added on, "Now now little loves, you can't go to this one. These types of parties aren't child safe at all. Not with how drunk everyone may...oh shite!"

"What's it mean to be drunk?" Anna quizzed her.

"Oh well little lass you see....uhmmm...." Mina stumbled out whilst looking at Barrcus for help.

"Ever wondered what it looks like for an adult to be extremely tired, for no good reason?" Barrcus expressed to them.

The girls only shook their heads and replied together, "Uh uh."

Barrcus sighed before whispering, "I'm going to give you something. But you can't tell your Father about it, trust me."

The girls looked excitedly at him whilst Mina and Morgen looked at him worried.

"Barrcus is that really wise?" Morgen inquired.

"Barrcus if I not just seen ya last night, I'd say ye'd lost yer mind." Mina declared.

"Now this is a very 'adult drink'. See if you like it." Barrcus told them whilst handing them two baijiu shots.

Morgen and Mina both realize what it is but are too late to stop the girls from sipping. Both of them spit it out and begin complaining to Morgen about how bad the drink really was. As well as poor Anna needing comfort for trying to swallow it. "Now now little dears you're ok, you're ok."

Mina however smacked Barrcus upside the head, "WHAT WERE YA THINKING YA DAMN FOOL?!"

"Watch this..." He said rubbing his head before telling the girls, "Now these are gonna be the only drinks at the party. Do you really wish to attend them?"

Both girls shook their heads as they cuddled their elder Cousin, who gave Barrcus an annoyed look before asking, "Honestly? That was your plan?"

"It worked didn't it?" Barrcus questioned before getting smacked again. After rubbing his head again he remembers his reason for being there, "Anyway, aside from teaching a valuable lesson...."

Morgen watched him as he walked up to the covered object he'd brought into the room and asked a bit disheartened, "Is that another dress from Uther?"

"Hehe....something like that."

Barrcus then unveiled it and Morgen was left stunned. "Oh my....this is....it's....I can't believe it."

Mina looked at Barrcus again, "Did ya really get Uther to pick out a good dress for once?"

"It took some bellyaching, but it worked." Barrcus declared before Morgen hugged him tightly.

"Thank you."

Barrcus hid all the pain he could as Morgen hugged him, course before long he regrettably has to tell her, "If you'd be so kind as to....stop this...nice endeavor."

Morgen let go quickly and apologized, "I'm sorry, are you alright?"

"I'm fine, although I really do like our hugs...it's just...I'm still a bit fragile...after everything." Barrcus informed her gently.

"Right, again please forgive me Barrcus." Morgen said to him.

Barrcus placed a hand under her chin, "I'm fine. Now we start getting ready for your little trip.

[theshapeshifter100]

Joining the Watch

(Day 6 of @thewatchau‘s prompts!)

Part of her thought she should be with Charles, making preparations. New year, new realisation that the wedding was November and they didn’t have a house sorted yet!

Rena patted a paw against her, curled up against her stomach as they rode. Yes, she had to focus on the road. Especially given this horse was starting to wander off.

She steered it back onto course, moving it away from the frosted shrub it was trying to eat, and kept half an eye on Rena. He would notice if anything was coming up behind her.

In front Fort Stiofán loomed, and it was easy to assume that anyone approaching might hear the garrison before they saw it, especially on still winter day such as this. She couldn’t feel any wind, the few clouds weren’t moving and the trees barely twitched.

Clusters of houses and fields passed by, and soon they made it to just outside the outer walls. They stood tall and proud, and Mags dismounted the horse, tying it up just outside. Rena jumped off too, huddling by her legs to stay warm.

The two of them joined the steady stream on people flowing in and out of the garrison. Inside was treacherous underfoot, the frost and constant foot traffic having made it muddy and slippery.

Mags slowed down to not fall, and almost immediately someone walked into her. She assumed they apologised, as they walked on before she could get a look at their face.

She dodged some more bundled up Watchers before entering through the large front doors between two, tall, narrow towers. Inside was infinitely warmer, and even more crowded with people.

People huddled by the main fire, holding mugs of tea while chatting and comparing notes. Others stormed up and down the stairs with bundles of paper and parchment tucked under their arms. A few desks were about, and Mags just lined up at one randomly.

She got to the front quickly, and the Watcher there greeted her. That she could lip read easily.

“Are there any openings?” she asked, speaking since not everyone knew sign.

The Watcher looked at her oddly, her voice tended to have that effect, and the Watcher scribbled something before sliding it to Mags.

Would you prefer if I wrote my answers? My sign is bad.

“That would be helpful,” it would also be slow, but better than misunderstanding.

The Watcher wrote as fast as they could, and as a result it was a bit messy, but legible.

Okay! We have a few openings, what did you have in mind?

“I’m a Fae Researcher, so I could go in the Archives, or just, help out.”

It looked like the Watcher mouthed ‘interesting’ before writing further.

We could always use people in the Archive Room! And there’s always admin work that needs doing. Openings in the Messenger Tower, things like that.

As Mags read, the Watcher tapped their chin with their quill and quickly scribbled something else out.

How good it your sign?

“Good, why?”

There is a little boy, about 5 or 6, who can’t talk, and we can’t teach him properly. Would you be willing to?

Mags was not keen. She didn’t really think she was that good of a teacher.

“I’ll think about it.”

Of course! Sorry, didn’t mean to put pressure on you. How about I give you a list of options and you go over it?

The poor Watcher looked incredibly awkward and Mags wanted to laugh. Poor sod was probably over thinking it.

“That’s fine, and don’t worry about it.”

The Watcher found a list quickly and thrust it in Mags’s direction. She took it, internally shaking her head and trying not to laugh. She found a chair near the fire, and with Rena lying across her shoulder, she read it.

She couldn’t really do a full time position, given that she had a job. Really the only reason she was here was because Charles’s sister, Ivy, had such a good experience. It was just something she was curious about.

Looking around, everyone seemed friendly with each other. People paused to talk to each other, folks gathered around the fire or joined each other going up the stairs. There was an energy that could be felt, and it felt good.

The list had what Mags expected, basically part time librarians, scribes, posts in the Messenger Tower. That sounded the most interesting, but her skills would probably be good in the Archives. Especially if things remain calm in her head.

She found a charcoal stick in a pouch on her belt and made a few circles on the list, before reluctantly getting up and moving away from the warm fire. Rena snuggled into her cloak hood as best he could, also annoyed by this.

She got back in line and handed the list to the same Watcher.

“I can only do part time, but when can I start?”

(Usually I have written stuff underlined, but tumblr doesn’t seem to like that. Also, Jan 1611)

[ruffsficstuffplace]

The Viridian Vanguard (Part 32)

Elsewhere in the Grove during the duels, Weiss was in her nest, Penny snuggled up to her chest, Cheese and Winter’s summons around her for company, menial tasks, and/or food as she watched holos through Penny’s projector. (The quality was far superior than her comm-crystal’s.)

“I feel it… the purity of their love…!” screamed the monster of the week. “This is it… the power, of YURI!”

A wave of purple-black miasma shot out of the monster, washing over the convention floor, reality itself beginning to warp and change as bright, prismatic energy was sucked out of them.

Hina gasped. “Akane, Aoi, look! All the couples, the anime and manga, even the doujins and the fan art—they’re all losing their gayness!”

“You monster!” Aoi screamed. “Do you know how long that slow-burn was between Diya and Nene?! This is an affront to all of Girls Love!”

“You’re going down, Yarama!” Akane screamed as she whipped out her spear, Hina and Aoi doing the same with their weapons.

“Piper, this show is so fucking stupid...” Weiss muttered.

“Would you like to change to something else?” Penny asked through an annotation on the holo.

“I didn’t say I wasn’t enjoying it!” Weiss said.

A fight sequence began, the tables and displays being torn up and destroyed from the empowered monster, the heroes trying their best to spare the panicked, confused convention goers, and the merchandise, too, if they could help it.

“Face it, Spiral Hearts!” the Yarama cried. “The power of women loving women is just too strong!”

“That is true…” Hina replied “… but it’s not as strong as the true fans of yuri, those who make and support new content for fans everywhere, not filthy parasites like you! Akane! Aoi!”

“On it!” they both cried, before they all joined their weapons into one giant cannon. “For the love of all that makes our lives worth living… SPIRAL PIERCER…!”

The projection suddenly stopped, Penny’s eyes flashing green.

“What happened?” Weiss asked amid the disappointed growls and groans of the summons.

“It seems there was a serious accident during Jaune and Pyrrha’s training!” Penny replied, untangling herself from Weiss’ arm, then hovering towards the window. “I’m afraid my medical expertise is needed on-site, apologies, Weiss.”

“Don’t you just have first-aid equipment right now?” Weiss asked as she sat up.

“Yes, but I still have my treatment database, patient history, and high-precision scanners,” Penny replied. “I’ll inform you of any new developments as soon as I can!”

Weiss sighed, frowning as she watched Penny fly out the window and out of sight. One of Winter’s summons gently prodded her on the side, and gestured to her comm-crystal charging on a dock in the corner; she turned to them and shook her head. “You’ll have to find out what happens next later, I’ve got a hunch I need to investigate,” she said as she stood up. “Help me get dressed, everyone!”

The summon sighed, before everyone available either fetched Weiss’ garments from the closet, or helped her put it on. “Cheese, you’re coming with me,” Weiss said as she scooped what remained of him from his plate, now just a small blob no bigger than her hand.

c:

“I’m heading out to the training grounds!” Weiss said as she passed by Winter in the living room.

“Don’t try to squeeze in more exercise when you’re supposed to be recovering, I really did mean that was the only time I’d carry you back!” Winter replied, not looking up from the Nivian-Actaeon book she was reading.

“I won’t, sheesh! It’s been what, four years since that happened?” Weiss said as she opened the door.

“I know you, Weiss, it takes a long while for you to give up on something you’ve put your mind to,” Winter replied as she turned the page.

Weiss shook her head as she shut the door behind her, called for the elevator before taking a bite out of Cheese.

He was down to just his soulstone by the time she arrived, by which point Jaune was securely strapped to a spine board and being carried away by Taiyang and Nora, Ren and Penny following them with medical supplies.

Futher away, Yang was on a bench, comforting the rather glum looking Pyrrha sitting beside her. After a few moment’s consideration, Weiss stepped over and asked, “May I ask what the hell happened to Jaune this time?”

“We were dueling, and I accidentally threw him far harder and further than I intended,” Pyrrha replied. “His landing was… ugly.”

“Should I…?” Weiss asked uneasily.

“In short: he looked a human pretzel,” Yang said. “Just so you know, the un-pretzeling process wasn’t pretty, either.”

“Uh... huh...” Weiss mumbled. “Do you need me to stay, or should I just leave…?” she asked, thumbing behind her.

“If your brain is functioning enough again for Pit Fighter business, sure!” Yang said.

“I’ve made quite a lot of progress on the weapon choice front, it’d be a shame to waste this time,” Pyrrha added.

Weiss nodded, and sat down with them. “So how’s it going, exactly?”

“If we’re being thorough about it, I’m halfway through the process,” Pyrrha replied. “I still haven’t explored any of the Fae firearms that weren’t almost-complete replicas of AFA armaments, but now I know for sure that I have a solid idea of what I’m looking for in melee weapons.”

“And what would that be?” Weiss asked.

“Something versatile with reach, coupled with a shield and elemental mediums for an all-rounded offense or defense,” Pyrrha replied. “Weiss’ temporarily limited powers aside, both of you are highly specialized fighters, and I’d rather not lose a good chunk of our effectiveness, or expose glaring weaknesses in our defenses should one of you be downed, or otherwise indisposed. Whether it’s defending against attacks from any range, leading a charge into our enemies, or wreaking some elemental havoc, I’ll be ready for it.

“That being said, I haven’t seen what Fae ranged weapons can bring to the table, and if the melee weapons were any indication, they should be quite the learning experience.”

“You should probably join us at the firing range later, Weiss!” Yang said. “Get a feel for how the Fae deal death from a distance.”

“I’d rather not,” Weiss replied. “After all that training at the Terrace, my arms will definitely become too sore to even hold a gun as soon as I’m hit the recoil.”

“I meant in a mental, tactical sense, see what you might go up against in person!” Yang replied. “You’ve barely seen anyone really use a ranged weapon outside of all-out war where tracking who fired what was the least of your worries. Plus, the special ammo will give you a great idea of what happens when you mix elements up—nothing wrong with your using pure, but you miss out on useful things like Melty Wash that way.”

“’Melty Wash…?’” Weiss asked.

“Melty Wash,” Yang repeated, nodding. “It sounds just as stupid in Actaeon, don’t worry.” She winced as her stomach growled. “Ugh, all this drama made me forget how hungry I am—come on, let’s go get some grub and a nap, then on to lighting shit up!” she said, getting up.

Weiss shrugged. “Alright, fine, I’ll go!” she said as she hopped up. “I figured I needed to get out of bed and do something productive today, anyway...”

Jaune was left in the cabin he bunked in, Taiyang and Penny stayed behind to take care of him and keep him company. Everyone else had lunch and rested a while, before discussing Pyrrha’s firearms training.

As elementally-infused ammo, alchemical grenades, chemical weapons and the like needed to be specially ordered by and used under the supervision of a senior watcher or other qualified individual, and Qrow was far too drunk at the moment, they started out with the standard Fae firearms.

In contrast to the practical, sleek, and streamlined AFA guns Pyrrha was used to, the Fae practically made it a point to have their guns as flashy and embellished as possible. Every one of them seemed to have as many engravings, stylized components, and decorations as they could possibly add without compromising function too much, like an iron sight made out of some long-dead predator’s skull, the gun barrel coming out of its jaws

Metal and wood were the materials of choice for most of them, all manner of colours, grains, and sheen from the varieties, mixtures, and treatments, with the rest of the parts made from bone, rock, crystal, plant fibers, and whatever else the Fae could get their hands or hand-equivalents on. There was barely any built-in magitech to be seen, no small-form targeting systems, recoil adjusters, or ammo management systems, just physical springs, levers, hammers, revolvers, and whatever else.

And almost all of them were powerful, even the quietest guns having massive impact.

Thip. Crack. Thip. Crack. Thip. Crack.

Pyrrha fired her “Fang Gun” into a log target, each bone projectile lodging an inch or two deep into the wood, splinters flying out from the holes, the cracks clearly audible to Weiss even as she watched from well away to the side.

She stopped after six shots, putting her rifle down and massaging her arms. “Not the kind of gun you fire just for fun, is this?” she asked Ren.

“Not unless your idea of ‘fun’ is accuracy competitions, or clean hunting kills,” Ren replied calmly. “Shall we focus on lower-caliber weapons that are easier to fire for sustained periods, such as repeaters? Most every Fae firearm hits the user almost as hard as they do the target.”

“No,” Pyrrha replied, picking the gun back up, and aiming for a farther target. “I suppose I’ll just have to learn to make every single shot a hit from here on out!”

Ren nodded. “One well-placed bullet’s all you really need, most of the time.”

“And the rest?” Pyrrha asked.

Ren smiled. “Two bullets.”

After Pyrrha started getting used to the intense recoil, and firing far less frequently than she would have with human guns, they started planning which weapons she was to try out, how she was going to test them out, and who would be involved.

Everyone except Weiss donned a set of armour; a small arena was built by a copse of smaller trees with the help of deployable cover, ballistic shields, and the foliage; and several dozen crates of ammo were carted out of storage, their contents transferred to smaller boxes set around the area, or to loaded into all manner of belts, bags, and quivers just waiting to be strapped on.

Before Pyrrha’s first live-fire exercise, however, Ren wanted to demonstrate how Fae opponents would be using firearms themselves, exchanging his usual sickles for two “Shredders,” Fae-style SMGs.

“The first thing you need know is, except for heavy weapons like Hailstorm cannons or extreme long-distance weapons like Shardslingers and Farslingers, Fae tend to prefer shooting on the move, and most can shoot quite accurately and survive getting shot at also,” Ren said as he loaded one of his guns with a clip.

He dashed towards some training dummies, shredding their canvas coverings with short, accurate burts. He maneuvered around their cover and shot them from behind, slid on the ground to slip through tiny gaps and holes in defenses, even leaped off a ledge and fired the last of his clip in mid-air.

“Predicting your enemies movements and firing where they will be in a second is a helpful skill in lower ranks, and absolutely vital as you move up,” he said as landed, pulled out his second shredder and loaded them both.

“The second is that, thanks to our biology and engineering advancements, dual-wielding guns isn’t as stupid and dangerous idea to us Fae as it is to you humans,” Ren said as he adjusted the stocks, shortening them and fitting them over his forearms. “In fact, it’s actually quite popular inside the Pits, both as a stylistic choice and a significant combat advantage.”

He calmly crossed a bridge lined with target dummies, both guns blazing and ripping apart targets on both sides, casually bending his arms further and more dramatically than any human could to shoot behind his back, over his shoulders, and even under his leg.

“And the third and arguably the most important is: we Fae are far, far more mobile and agile than any of you are right now, or will be in the immediate future, so do consider any way your enemies can outmaneuver and flank you,” Ren said as he holstered one gun, replaced the empty clip with a drum magazine.

He moved towards one of the “bases” in the arena, a tight cluster of trees with platforms rising up two stories above him, a small sniper’s nest on the third. Several dummies stood behind cover, well-protected from any shots angled upwards, free to pump Ren full of bullets if they were actually armed and alive.

Then Ren started jumping from branch to branch, running up and along the trunk and the walls, swinging from the ropes or running on top of the ziplines, raining metal hell down on all of them from above and behind.

Ren zipped down from the base, gracefully landing back down to the ground. He unloaded the empty drum, turned over to Pyrrha and Weiss said, “Generally speaking, never forget to look up. Now, any questions or concerns?”

“None,” Pyrrha said, smiling as she put on her helmet. “Let’s get shooting.”

“Oh yeah!” Nora cried as she shot out of her seat. “We about to get all John Woo up in here!”

Note: Aside from the tendency for special ammo and the like to deteriorate over time, to the point of being unusable or dangerous to use, it’s also expensive to produce, and capable of causing severe injuries to folks and damage to property that oftentimes require urgent, specialized treatment, thus the many hurdles to legally acquiring and using them. Due to the nature of the Keeper and her team, restrictions are a bit looser and relatively easier, but not by much.

The shardslinger is the non-elemental version of the farslinger. Though they use many similar designs, the key difference is in the loading mechanism and the insides of the barrels, with the latter being specially treated and much, much, MUCH more expensive, to be able to handle the severe wear of high-power elemental mediums. It’s not unknown for substandard barrels to simply explode or melt during stress testing.

This chapter was coded “Shooty Shooty Bang Bang.” The next chapter is coded “John Woo-ing It Up In Here.”