#once again these designs for the skills do NOT belong to me

[parasolemn]

Just found Empathy Jar in my drafts so I think that means I should get to post 100000 images from the last four months. I also put others on the jar but I only like the Empathy now because I only had 2 hours to paint it and the paint kept coming off broken heart emoji...

i love putting ency and empathy next to eachother. hashtag facts care about my feelings. sorry they literally only have passives adjacent to eachother that aren't even dependent on eachother to show up but I love having people ask me why I draw them like this so I can respond "facts care about my feelings :-)" (Also only real ones know. Does anyone know. Nobody here knows except the real ones (the people who enable me))

FUCKK WAIT THAT REMINDS ME MY

My badass stickers I printed but more importantly the suggestion authority dichotomy(??) I take suuuuper seriously guys. does anyone know if auth and sugg are two sides of the same coin kind of (says this like it's the most profound revelation ever that all mainstream DE fans should be focusing on). also still throwing encyclopedia at other skills mentally. I think if the skills had their own mini sub-skills Ency would have like negative 1274823647234 logic (OK not that bad but it'd be a little bad) (Once again only real ones know btw)

Pinkie promise I make normal DE art soon too btw ok? My volition skilltober image just a hundred billion months away. Nods

[292pantone]

Okay! Time for some Glass Onion analysis bc I'm already obsessed with this movie.

GLASS ONION SPOILERS AHEAD READ AT YOUR OWN RISK

I've seen people saying that it was unnecessary for the movie Glass Onion to be set in May 2020 during the height of the pandemic, and that it took away from the movie, but I disagree. The specific setting is relevant because of all the movie's subtext about the Black Lives Matter movement and its resurgence in May 2020. Hear me out- there are several parallels between Andi's death/Helen's avenging her death by wrecking the mansion, and the riots in 2020 following the unjust deaths of George Floyd, Breonna Taylor, and many others.

To begin with, there's the power dynamic between Andi and Miles. A mediocre, unexceptional white man stole the contributions of a brilliant black woman and got away with it because his influential friends closed ranks around him in a system designed to benefit him. He got the benefit of the doubt and weaponized the legal system to financially ruin her. Even though she was telling the truth, no one believed her, and Miles fully expected this pattern to continue once her sister Helen took up the cause.

Miles burns the incriminating evidence of his lies and flat-out tells Helen that no one will ever believe her with only circumstantial evidence. Even Benoit Blanc acknowledges that his skill as a detective can only go so far without the police and courts on his side.

In the case of police brutality, cops similarly weaponize the legal system and avoid accountability for their murders by closing ranks through police unions that invoke "qualified immunity" (aka shielding the cops from legal liability). The privilege of white men, compounded by their wealth and connections, makes it difficult for them to face actual consequences for the harm they do.

We see the concept of avoiding consequences again with Miles' crew of "disruptors", all of whom rely on his money to bail them out of trouble. Birdie was implied to have done blackface, made tone-deaf comments comparing herself to Harriet Tubman, completely ignored all COVID restrictions, and tweeted ethnic slurs to the point where her assistant had to take away her phone, but her line of loungewear still takes off thanks to Miles' financial backing. In response to the latest scandal, personal assistant Peg says "We will do what we always do! Deny, half-apologize, then go silent awhile." Despite her litany of offenses and half-assed attempts at accountability, no consequences stick to the privileged Birdie either.

However, Helen refuses to accept this unfair state of things. In a situation where she appears powerless, with her sister gone and the valuable napkin burned, Helen essentially goes "fuck that" and makes Miles pay for what he did anyway. If the law won't take her side, she has to take it into her own hands. This is where the parallels to the 2020 riots come in.

We see her smashing the symbols of Miles' wealth, starting with his glass sculptures, and at first the other characters don't mind. They cheer her on from the couches, even though they all just refused to testify for her in court. This parallels the performative activism seen in many celebrities, who would rather watch from the sidelines and say vaguely supportive things rather than do any meaningful action to change the system. The other guests are happy to break the glass sculptures alongside her, saying how cathartic it feels, but they get antsy when she moves on to breaking more valuable things instead of giving up after a short while like they did. The camera shots of Helen smashing things and lighting a fire linger uncomfortably long as it starts to sink in that this isn't just a momentary temper tantrum. The so-called "disruptors" wince and gasp and exclaim how a piano belonged to Liberace and so on, completely ignoring how THE DESTRUCTION IS THE POINT, because if Helen only broke safe, acceptable targets, then it wouldn't actually mean anything. Similarly, when people rioted in 2020, there was a huge amount of pearl-clutching by people saying rioting is going too far, and can't we all just be nonviolent and have unity and forgive each other? In both cases, there's a veneer of support from people who just want the victims of injustice to "get their anger out of their systems" and move on without any serious changes being made.

I find it very fitting that Helen burns the Mona Lisa with Miles' own unregulated hydrogen fuel cell, using the override switch that he carelessly installed. She exploits the natural consequences of his self-centeredness so they all catch up to him at once. In the end, Helen's acts of protest do disrupt things and lead to change, even as people tell her she is going too far. Once Helen does the actual work of tanking Miles' reputation for good, only then do the "disruptors" jump ship and promise to back her up in court. They're willing to take the side of justice only when things have shifted to the point where it's the better act of self-preservation. If there was any chance of still hanging onto Miles' golden titty and making his reputation their hill to die on, they would've done it.

Blanc, the protagonist of the movie, gives Helen tacit permission to burn everything down by handing her the chunk of hydrogen fuel. He stands by her the whole movie and takes her seriously, demonstrating a path to better (non-performative) allyship.

Glass Onion shows that lasting change has to be demanded, not wheedled, and that sometimes things have to reach an undeniable crisis point to do so. In other words: protest is necessary.

[harrowharks-iliac-crest]

2

I've just realised! We have new chapter intro pics. This one is a stylised Locked Tomb:

We also had the same one last chapter.

Let's dive in.

PYRRHA worked for Nona, Camilla looked after Nona, and Palamedes taught Nona, all on the understanding that she was not simply a person, but probably one of two people. Nona did not know either of her real possible names.

We're starting with a banger. A quick explanation. This is, someone in Harrow's body, and the three she lives with seem to assume she is either Gideon or Harrow. She hasn't seemed much like either so far.

Nona talked to herself in the mirror even now. When she had been earlier born, and less self-conscious, sometimes she would rest her face against the mirror’s face, and try to reach her reflection. Camilla had caught her kissing it once, and had written about six pages of notes on that, which was humiliating.

This is funny and sweet and sad. Nona clearly loves herself so much more than either Gideon or Harrow ever loved themselves.

I don't think she is Gideon or Harrow. She could be Alecto, having left her memories behind with Harrow in Alecto's body, coming into Harrow's body nearly newborn, completely innocent. She could be some random revenant clinging to Harrow's body.

I suppose she could still be Gideon - reeling from Harrow's soul not being in her body, and working with Harrow's brain damage that is specifically designed not to remember Gideon at all. Therefore, she is now stuck in Harrow's body, unable to remember herself.

I suppose if that's true, even just getting a bit of tenderness from Camilla and Palamedes and Pyrrha is enough to make her love herself?

I suppose we will find out.

If Camilla had six pages of notes on her kissing herself she had about twenty regarding eyes. Nona’s egg-yellow eyes belonged to the other person —the other girl; that was how all of their bodies worked, not only hers.

Lending more weight to the Nona is Gideon theory; the only time we've seen Harrow's body have Gideon's eyes is when Gideon took over, when the Resurrection Beast attacked the Mithraeum.

Also this:

“So someone’s inside me, then? I mean—I’m that somebody?” She always stumbled over this.

Stumbling over Gideon's mere existence indicates this could be Gideon still struggling with the effects of Harrow's lobotomy.

Or Nona isn't Gideon but struggling with the existence of Gideon, thanks to the lobotomy.

Oh Harrow, I mean we knew you fucked up your body big time, but man, this kinda sucks, huh?

(Makes for very compelling storytelling, though.)

“They wanted to see me naked,” said Nona. “It was a sex thing.” Camilla had made a sound, and then pretended it was a cough, and drank a whole glass of water. After the glass of water, she said, “How did you know?” “That’s just the way people look when they want to see you naked and it’s a sex thing,” said Nona. “I don’t really mind.”

This made me chuckle. And points towards Gideon, again, I think.

But Nona couldn’t shoot or fight or think. All she had was a good nature —that wasn’t true all the time, but Nona didn’t want it bruited about that she had a bad temper when she had only ever thrown two tantrums in her life and couldn’t remember either of them.

She can't remember her "tantrums"? Interesting! Interesting indeed. What were they about? At least one of them was about getting stuck in clothes.

Every day she held a sword until she seriously didn’t care about swords anymore, but she still couldn’t fight with one, no matter how big or thin it was. Camilla had wanted to teach her properly, but Pyrrha said not to, that they wouldn’t be able to tell if anything suddenly came back. Nona couldn’t do the forbidden bone tricks either, even though Palamedes did nearly the exact same thing with big grey lumps of bone as Camilla did with the sword.

But Nona is weak, and doesn't seem to have either Harrow or Gideon's skills. She does have a very, very sweet nature.

Nona was good at: 1. touching, 2. wiping dishes, 3. running her hand over the flat cork carpet in a way that got all the hair out of it, 4. sleeping in lots of different ways and positions, and 5. speaking any language that was spoken to her, in person, so she could see the person’s face and eyes and lips.

That's a pretty good skillset, tbh. I love the languages thing. How??? It's so cool. I'm jealous.

Nona understood everybody, and could speak back to them so that they understood her, and nobody ever said she had an accent. This confounded Palamedes. When she first said that she could speak back by watching them talk and making her lips look like theirs, it confounded him so much more that it gave Camilla a headache.

That is pretty confounding!! Very cool, very mysterious. This isn't anything Gideon or Harrow could do, to our knowledge, and honestly languages never have been mentioned very much so far, so it's certainly very strange.

Was this one of Alecto's skills?

Many people had lived through at least one bad resettlement already. Everyone was crammed on one of three planets now, and they all agreed that this planet was easily the worst, though this always made Nona feel a little bit offended on the planet’s part.

"Everyone"?? All of humanity, presumably minus the Nine Houses, who live at the Nine Houses, and the Cohort, who seem to mostly live on spaceships? Who is "Everyone" referring to here?

You were not allowed to say the words zombies, necromancers, or necromancy outside her house, or really inside it either.

Okay, okay, so these are not necromancers, nor do most of them see necromancy in a positive light. Random civilians, people caught up in Blood of Eden stuff, or both?

Interesting that Zombie is used to refer to necromancers.

Nona was so grateful to have had a whole six months of this. It was greedy to expect much longer.

:(

Another girl, another teenager who's expecting to die by the end of the book. Haven't we had enough dead kids around here?

[mondaymelon]

the only one. (albedo x gn!reader)

warnings! fluff, albedo is a bit possessive, kaeya tries to ask reader out

(a/n) another gift for kyoi... the things i do....

˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚

"...Do you understand?" Albedo's voice is soft as he looks up from his test tube and glances at your confused expression. "No matter. I'll explain it again."

"Th-There's no need to..." sighing you let your tired figure slump. "I understand the bare minimum, but it'll have to do."

"Very well then." He hands you the glowing fluid gingerly, gloved fingers lightly brushing against yours as he does so. He doesn't seem to acknowledge it, but you do, instantly flinching before quickly snatching it from his hand and barely keeping the contents inside the bottle.

Clearing your throat awkwardly, you resume the experiment, keenly aware of the platinum blonde male watching you intently at your every movement, his expression unchanging.

He was always a hard person to read. The fact that you had horrible social skills certainly didn't help, either.

"Good job. I can take it from here." He moves forward, gesturing his hand to the space beside him. You did as such, handing the vial to the man once more, face still a bit red from the previous incident. Standing beside him eagerly, you watched the male finish the rest of the procedure flawlessly.

As he poured the last drops of blue liquid into the larger container, a small mushroom cloud forms rose up smokily into the air. Glancing at Albedo, you saw that his gaze hasn't changed one bit, but he made a little "tsk" sound before waving the particles away. "Another negative matchup. That's all for today, then." He glanced at you, teal eyes softening just by a fraction. "You can head on home. I'll clean up."

"Oh, no, I couldn't leave you-!" You shook your head frantically.

"I don't need help." Seeing his gaze harden, you sigh in defeat, before grabbing your bag and belongings off of one of the tables and giving the man a small wave.

"I'll see you tomorrow, then?" You let a smile cross your face as you glanced at Albedo.

"Yes."

"Oh- And-" About to exit the warmly-lit cavern, you paused at stared at the alchemist with a questioning look. "...Kaeya and I are going to Cat's Tail tonight for a drink. Would you want to come along- Ah... you're not the type of person to enjoy that, are you... Nevermind! F-Forget I said anything-"

"I'll go."

"...What?"

"I'm going. Is there something wrong with that?"

"No- but-" Something about his voice... almost scared you. "I just didn't expect you to agree, is all..." Grinning, you beamed. "But I'm glad you'll be coming along!"

"Alright."

"It'll be tonight, let's say... 8 pm? Kaeya and I have some things to discuss so we'll be there a bit earlier."

"...Okay."

With that, the two of you parted ways, the stern man not saying another word, not even one of farewell. You, on the other hand, were in a state of visible confusion. It was a shock that Albedo had agreed to leave the mountain, let alone participate in anything that made him have to talk.

When the time came, you arrived at the tavern, greeting Diona briefly before taking your seat at the designated table. The blue-haired man arrived not long after, his uncovered eye twinkling with excitement. Sliding into the empty chair beside you, he propped up his elbow on the table.

"Long time no see, sweetheart." The upturned glint in his eyes doesn't fade one bit as he smiles at you. "How have you been?"

"I told you to stop calling me that, Kaeya." You responded in turn, glaring at the man. "Besides, it's not going to be just the two of us today. I brought along... a friend."

"Why so mean, all of a sudden?" Kaeya faked a whine, sighing dramatically.

"What did you want to discuss with me today?"

"Straight to the point, are we?" The male let out a deep chuckle, grinning. "Very well."

"So?"

"Well, the thing is..." He paused for a moment, before continuing in a manner that was not of his character. "Haha, there's no subtle way to put this, is there?"

"Spit it out, Kaeya. I don't have all day." You gestured towards the waiter, telling her your drink of choice, as Kaeya followed up with an order of red wine. As the woman walked away, the male glanced at you. He stayed quiet for a solid minute, examining your confused expression, before finally speaking.

"I'll put it simply then. Go out with me."

"...What?"

You hadn't expected this.

What Kaeya was to you... a troublesome drinking buddy and unfortunate coworker... and nothing more.

"Well then, what will your answer be?"

"Kaeya- I-" You weren't sure how to respond at all - all of this was too sudden, and you felt like your head was spinning.

"What's going on over here?" Another voice, one softer and more gentle, entered the conversation as the platinum-haired man himself, Albedo, pulled up a chair to the table and sat down, arms crossed as he stared at the two of you.

"...Is this the friend you were speaking of?"

"That is correct." Nodding, you sent a look that read discomfort to the man, hoping he could decipher it.

"I'm sorry for the interruption." Albedo subtly bowed his head before giving the male across from him a blank smile. "It's nice to see you again, Calvary Captain."

"Haha, I could say the same. I haven't seen the Chief Alchemist for quite some time. Spending all of your time holed up in Dragonspine, are you?" If Kaeya was upset, he concealed it well.

"You could say that." Albedo glanced up as the waiter came back around, this time carrying a tray with yours and Kaeya's drink atop it. He quickly relayed his drink to the waitress, who placed the two cups on the table before bowing and taking her leave. "If I may," he began, once he had decided that the waiter was a suitable distance away. "What were the two of you conversing about before I got here?"

"Just some casual chitchat, the usual," Kaeya responded quickly, almost too much so. He managed to make his voice nonchalant, at least."

"I see."

"So…" You started, trying to alleviate the tension. "I suppose the two of you are acquainted, then?" The silence that followed your question only added to the forced nature of your conversation.

"I only know his name and profession," Albedo responded after a short while. "I wouldn't go as far to call him an acquaintance."

"My, my, as much as I agree with you, that really was quite harsh!" Kaeya let out a little laugh, grinning. "That aside, Albedo, would you mind stepping aside for a moment? I have something to finish talking about with your friend over here." He smiled, but that was the extent of his hospitality, and his expression had an air of coldness.

"Something that I can't hear?" He raised his eyebrows questioningly, showing no intention of moving from his seat.

"It's something… personal."

"I see. Carry on, then." He scooted his chair back 2 inches, and nothing more, his arms crossed as he stared at the two of you.

"So?" Kaeya had lowered his voice to a hushed whisper as he glanced at you expectantly.

"No."

"…Oh dear, but wouldn't be a shame if a nasty rumor got out that poor old you over here turned out to be a murderer that killed their own spouse before coming to Mondstadt?"

"Kaeya- You can't-"

"Who says I can't? You may not know this, but I'm actually quite popular. Who do you think they'll believe?" His voice had gone even softer, but there was a dangerous edge to it.

You couldn't bring yourself, nor did you have to, as Albedo rose from his chair and stood.

"Kaeya. It would be wise of you to stop."

"Stay out of this, Albedo.''

"No, I don't think I will."

Grabbing your hand and taking it in his, he tugged you from your seat and up and out the tavern door. Kaeya made a sound of protest, one that Albedo seemed to care little about, and merely continued to drag you along, only pausing when you stumbled over a rock in the path.

"A-Albedo...!"

"Quiet." He pulled the two of you into an alleyway, gloved hand cupping over your mouth as to keep you from making noise. Your head was pressed against his chest, close enough to hear his steady heartbeat thrum.

From where the two of you were hidden in the shadow of stacked cargo boxes, you saw the shadow of Kaeya flicker across the ground, before pacing on. Albedo stayed silent for a while longer before his form finally relaxed by just a fraction, and he released his hold on you.

"Are you alright?"

His gaze was watchful, teal eyes piercing. You nodded slightly, face red from all the contact. "I-I'm fine." When he stayed silent, you glanced up at him. "How much did you hear?"

"As much as I needed to know to do this."

And just like that, with unimaginable ease, he leaned forward and pressed his lips against yours. His skin was cold to the touch, but nevertheless it brought bursts of warmth that spread throughout your body. His eyes remained trained on you as he moved, his movements calculated. All you could hear was the rush in your ears, and all you could see was him, his face and his hair and his everything. And in that moment, it was as if the surroundings had faded away and that you two were the only things that existed in this universe.

Then he pulled away, and the sparkling feeling faded, while your throbbing heart remained. When he finally spoke, his voice came as a whisper.

"I want you to be mine. I want to be the only one."

"Albedo, you already are."

masterlist✩

[bitterbeanren]

Fragments of the Past

Story under the cut. Story probably has spoilers-- don’t blame me if you read it and you don’t like! Like with most of my works, I wrote it for me... I’m sharing it because some people seem to actually like my work. Blablabla self-indulgent (even if it’s depressing) blablabla self ship blabla.

This is a piece set in the same universe as my other two Honkai Star Rail stories “Moments in Time” and “Taking His Time”. However, this one is going through the point of view of Reader’s father figure. It won’t really make sense if you haven’t read “Moments in Time” but you really do not need to read “Taking His Time” for this one.

Pairing: Hints of Jing Yuan x AFAB nonbinary reader. Maybe even some possible more than friendships between their dad and a couple of other characters. wink wonk.

Author’s continued note: I’m going by the belief that Blade is Yingxing. Is he actually? I dunno. But I’m sticking with it. If you read my previous stories, that’s reader’s father figure.

I wanted to play with multiple things in this one-- spacing, the differences between long-lived and short-lived species, etc. Memory loss and pain and losing a family that you found. Oh, Kafka’s in this.

~*~

.

His eyes open.

.

~*~

.

“Master Yingxing, look what I made!”

“Wait up, Master! I’m not as fast as you!”

“You’re going to visit the swordmaster?! Can I come, please?!”

“I’m going to be just as skilled as you, one day!”

“The Imbibitor Lunae looks so pretty… I should call him by name? Because he acts funny when you do? Mister Dan Feng… Mm, got it.”

“Hey, Master? I’m… I don’t really feel like I’m a girl. Can you… stop calling me one, please?”

“Wow, Master Yingxing! That spear’s for Mister Dan Feng, right? Can I name it?!”

“Do you think that this design would work?”

“I’m not a kid anymore, Dad!”

“Um, uh… Master Yingxing? Can I talk to you about something?”

“I… know you aren’t really my dad, but… you’re the closest thing I have to one.”

“If it’s alright with you… can I call you ‘Dad’ from now on?”

“Dad, Dad! Did you have a good birthday?”

“Yay! Mister Dan Feng is coming by to visit today?! I’ll make some snacks! Should I set up the tea table under the tree in the courtyard?”

“No, Dad. I’m not going to switch from swordsmithing to accessory making. That one I made for you took forever!”

“I wish… nevermind. Don’t worry about it, Dad.”

“You’re going to visit Dan Feng today? Okay! Be safe, I’ll take good care of the forge!”

.

~*~

.

“Why didn’t you tell me?!”

.

“I’m going to miss him now. It’s the same as if you were gone, but he… I don’t want him to be gone. Dan Feng matters to me too!”

.

“No more secrets, okay? We’re supposed to be a team— we’re supposed to be family.”

.

“Thanks for sticking by me, Dad.”

.

~*~

.

“Dad…!”

“…Dad?”

“You don’t… remember me anymore, do you?”

“Thank you for training me… for teaching me how to be a swordsmith. Thank you for making me my first blade. Helping me forge my own. Thank you for always being there for me and letting me be a part of your family. You always made me feel like I had somewhere where I belonged. Even though we weren’t even related by blood… Dad… I’m so sorry I wish I could help you but I can’t because I’m not good enough, not strong enough… I wasn’t ever able make you something that could actually be useful to you.”

“I’ll miss you, I’ll miss you. I love you so much, Dad.”

.

“Goodbye.”

.

~*~

.

His eyes open. Again. The monster inside him growls. You were not to pay the price. Only they knew. Imbibitor Lunae. The Swordmaster. The Swordmaster’s Apprentice.

.

~*~

He blinks and you’re standing in front of him, practically bouncing on your feet. You’re not even a teenager, yet. Just a little bundle of energy.

“Can I go too, Master?! I want to play with Jing Yuan again!”

Yingxing smiles down at you, ruffling your hair. You’d only met the boy once... A month ago. And all of a sudden you couldn’t stop asking about him. It felt like it came out nowhere, but the Forge Master knew that this was just how long-lived species were. They aged so… slowly, and yet so quickly all at once. Many of them could go months or even years without contacting someone, then start talking about them like they’d just seen them the day before. Then physically, many of them aged much like a short-lived species… at least until they hit young adulthood. You would probably continue to act like a bit of a child for the next century before you mentally matured. Perhaps that was why he easily fell into the role of a parent to you rather than a mentor.

“Fine, I’ll tell Jingliu that I need to discuss supplies for the Cloud Knights… that should allow you and your friend to have a valid excuse to not be with us.”

“Yay! Thanks, Master!”

You’re excitable, cute, and smart. He can’t help but look at you like you’re his kid. He knows Jingliu doesn’t feel the same about her apprentice… still, Yingxing can tell that Jing Yuan is basically being raised by her. Jingliu has existed for hundreds of years already, but for Jing Yuan, especially in a couple of years, learning from Jingliu would have been a good chunk of the boy’s life. The reason why the woman had grown attached to Yingxing but not Jing Yuan… was because she had to hold on to Yingxing as soon as possible because soon, for her, he’d be gone.

For him, a hundred years was practically a lifetime. To them, it was a blink of an eye.

For you, the kid with a toothy smile that made the artificial sun pale in comparison, every year with Yingxing was a huge part of your currently short life.

~*~

“Dad, I’m off to visit Yuan. I’ll be back by dinner!”

It’s after you start to call him Dad that he starts looking into becoming long-lived himself. Jingliu knows that it’s what Dan Feng and him meet up to discuss and research— once, she had dropped by unannounced, took one look at the books on Yingxing’s desk, and promptly acted like she saw nothing. When Jing Yuan later finds out what they’re planning, Liu swears Jing Yuan to secrecy. If Dan Feng and Yingxing are caught… neither the swordmaster or her protege know anything. Baiheng could never know and you could never know. This is the choice that the three of them make.

None of Yingxing’s long-lived friends say it, but they want him around for as long as possible. It’s selfish— all of them want more time. The ones who live for centuries want more time with the one who’ll only live for one.

~*~

“Look! I designed some new armor for Yuan… do you think he’ll like it? Pfft, the guan dao you made him is way better than anything I could make. Plus… this’ll protect him when he’s in battle. Oh, I know! I should make some armor for you, too!”

Your smile is still so bright. Yingxing wants you to be able to smile like that forever.

~*~

Sometimes, Jing Yuan looks at Yingxing like he wants to say something, but he doesn’t. The boy knows better than the rest of them— no matter what, this will not end well. No matter what, you will end up hurt.

But he never says anything. Never does anything. Jing Yuan stays quiet, waiting for you to realize things yourself. All that boy seems to do is wait for you to figure out things that he’s already realized himself-- be it the research that Yingxing and Dan Feng are doing, or Jing Yuan’s love for you.

When Yingxing is gone, Jing Yuan will be the one who protects you— the furnace master knows this. And, in the end, the ones who sinned were the adults, not the children. The adults knew what their choice was… and it was a selfish one.

That is why Jing Yuan is not one of the ones who should have to pay the price.

.

~*~

.

Jingliu is the one who kills him the first time. Blade remembers the feeling of steel rending his flesh, then stitching itself back together. That was the blade he had crafted for her, and here she was… using it against him. 

He cackles. Oh, the irony.

.

~*~

.

He can remember the Imbibitor Lunae, turning to face him with a frown. “After this, we’re even.” But… this one was not the same. This one was younger.

…Why wasn’t he there for him, at the end? Dan Feng… he should have been there for him.

If the first wasn’t able to then… This one… this one must pay for the sins of his past.

.

~*~

.

Inside of Blade, the monster rages.

Inside of Yingxing, a blade is worn out and cracked.

.

~*~

.

When he closes his eyes, he can remember a sanctuary. Maple leaves and spider lilies with the sound of laughter behind him.

Who was it, again… who was laughing?

.

Who are you, again?

.

~*~

.

The laughter twists… It sounds like sobs. Blade can feel his flesh knitting itself back together.

.

His eyes open. Again. The monster inside him watches.

.

~*~

.

“I don’t know you,” he says. Jing Yuan stands by your side, a hand tightly clasped with yours. “...Consider it a good thing.”

You shake your head, no. The hand you don’t have held by the Luofu’s Arbiter General reaches up to touch a... floral accessory pinned to your tunic. You grin, and Blade feels something inside him shift. The grin seems familiar, and yet... it feels wrong. “It’s okay if you don’t remember. I remember.”

Jing Yuan keeps his eyes on you. Blade doesn’t quite understand why the white-haired man is showing his weakness so carelessly. You let go of Jing Yuan’s hand, unpin the accessory from your tunic and approach him without fear, holding it out to him. Ah. A... hair stick. It’s made of steel, and in good condition from what he can see. You must be a talented artisan.

“Take it,” you tell him, eyes crinkling at the corners. For a brief moment, Blade can’t help but think that all of this feels so familiar. “It’s yours.”

Blade glances at the woman next to him. Her purple-pink eyes look sad, as though she knows something that Blade does not. “Accept it, Bladie.”

“...Fine,” he mutters, taking the hair stick from you. The moment he does, you beam at him brilliantly before turning your attention to Kafka. Blade is momentarily stunned by the sight. 

“Thank you for taking care of him, Miss Kafka,” you say to his fellow Stellaron Hunter, bowing your head in respect. “And thank you for helping arrange this meeting. I really do appreciate it.”

“Anytime, kid.”

You laugh. “I haven’t been a kid in a long time.”

.

.

“And look what my kid made me! Aren’t they beautiful?”

Kafka holds the mara’s strings while Blade holds his gift, and for a moment, Yingxing is at peace. Then, it’s gone, and Blade watches you as you leave with Jing Yuan, smiling at the Stellaron Hunters over your shoulder.

.

Seeing your smile, kind… yet sad for no reason as far as Blade knows, makes him feel uneasy. 

.

.

.

Blade wishes he could remember you.

[mrcspectr]

You may have answered this before but, why do you think Jake wears gloves?

Oh my dear Anon, I have talked about this loads but don't you worry. Never would I miss an opportunity to talk about Mr. Lockley, not ever.

I think the gloves must've started as something more akin to personal preference. A characteristic I always found interesting about Jake is that when we do finally meet him, he's dressed very professionally. His shirt is buttoned to the collar, the tie knotted neatly at his neck. A skill accomplished by a practiced hand. (Makes me wonder how he was taught, and by whom. Or if that was something he'd managed on his own.) His pants have clearly been pressed, his jacket well kept. His belongings are kept somewhere, and regularly maintained. (Which dry cleaner in town has an account under the name Marc Spector? Always pays in cash but never leaves a number, insisting he'll be back when it's ready and he needs it but somehow, always, notoriously late by days. Sometimes weeks. He always tips well, though, so they can't really complain.)

His hat is pulled low over his face, casting a shadow. Giving him some semblance of anonymity, and arranged with intent. And the gloves.. well. The gloves give him a purpose; they're specifically designed for him as driving gloves. Their addition to his wardrobe is personal and they represent his work, what he does. (For himself, for others? For both, most likely.) Dark, pristine leather, no cracks or flaws from wrist to fingertips. The crescent moons the defining detail, making them his. Everything he wears pushes him to the background, a humble driver, a man with a job, but this? These gloves make him Jake, make him important. They're defining to him in a world in which he's not allowed much importance, much identity.

Everything neatly in its place on his person, and staying that way throughout his job. Not once do we see a blood stain, or anything out of sorts. Honestly, if you ran into him on the streets of London, post-hospital, you probably wouldn't suspect a thing, and he's sure to keep it that way. Appearances mean something to him, in some fashion. Which is quite the contradiction to a man kept secret from those closest. The gloves a part of this distinction, making him different from them.

Eventually, I think the gloves might move on to being something more practical for him as well. These types of gloves are meant to reduce impact and cushion against vibration of the steering wheel, mainly during longer drives. For a man awake at all hours of the night, driving through the city streets, it would be beneficial to keep the strain on the body to a minimum, as not to incite Marc and Steven's suspicions further after the fact. Protection for his own hands as the man that holds the gun, the knife. Not only that, but the gloves would prevent Jake from leaving fingerprints, keeping all traces of him away from prying eyes. Able to slip in and out, unnoticed, continuing Khonshu's work without the danger of being caught. Preventing him from adding to Marc's already extensive criminal record.

I hope that someday he takes them off. And I don't mean that negatively, or to take anything away from what I feel is part of his identity right now. But I think a lot of what those gloves represent is a seperation between what is his life and what is now Marc and Steven's. Jake deserves to be defined not just by what he wears and why, but by what he does and for who. To know there is an importance to him and his choices, even if the other two don't understand them just yet. Maybe Steven puts them away and they never get them back out again, maybe Marc holds on to them as they remember better times, memories they could share between each other that don't cut as deeply. Maybe they thank him, finally, as they tell him this dark chapter of his life is over. That they see him, now, and that it's okay.

I hope that someday he doesn't need the gloves or what they mean for him anymore.

[fvriva]

🐖 for 099! What is that Test tube baby up to...

putting this under a readmore because I have 3 whole guys I'm working on at once lol

send me an oc + an emoji (or order the WHOLE HOG)

✨- How did you come up with the OC’s name?

When I was going through and filing off the serial numbers for IAE, I really wanted to try and edgy number name for this test tube baby. Stranger Things was really big at the time so that's where my head was at for 099. As for the number itself I was also really into B99 at the time. I also have a name for them after they escape the lab and start to have their own life, officially speaking, it's Rose, but I'm not married to it. I just want something nature themed that fits.

🌼 - How old are they? (Or approximate age range)

Given their self-propogation, abandonment, and regeneration history that's a very sticky question. They seem like they're in their late teens though.

🌺- Do they have any love interest(s)?

One so far, their rescuer, Orpheus Alabaster.

🍕 - What is their favorite food?

They've never eaten food in the traditional sense (outside of the nutritious slurry they grew up in, and the decomposing bodies part of it) but they would probably really enjoy a very crisp sweet onion bitten into directly.

💼 - What do they do for a living?

They're a lab rat and a horribly traumatized one at that. They're teetering on becoming a supervillain honestly.

🎹 - Do they have any hobbies?

Not really within the slurry. Swimming around, harvesting protein, just kind of the same degree of stimulation of a shark in a poorly-run aquarium. Once they get out, though, they'd fall in love with the world. I could see them keeping a little garden.

🎯 -What do they do best?

They don't really have any skills outside of their natural ability to heal. I suppose in a dark sort of way they also cope with boredom shockingly well.

🥊 -What do they love to do? What do they hate to do?

Once out, they love to walk around and see new places. They'd especially love going to zoos, botanical gardens, and museums, even though they can't read the plaques.

❤️ - What is one of your OC’s best memories?

Once out, Orpheus comes back for them and after they're stable enough to be out in public (it'll takes a while), he puts them in their chair and they both go to a little restaurant with a beautiful little terrace and view of the city.

✂️ - What is one of your OC’s worst memories?

Back when they were still in the tank, Orpheus stole a ship to try and go get help, but something went wrong with the launch, and they didn't fully comprehend what it was he was doing, so from their perspective the first face they'd seen in their entire life had for all intents and purposes died as he was trying to leave them.

🧊 - Is their current design the first one?

Nope! Once again, the serial numbers were filed off. The main changes have been to their hair and outfit; their hair used to be short and brown, and their suit and more swimsuit-like than their current wetsuit look.

🍀 - What originally inspired the OC?

Mostly Stranger Things, honestly, but the original thing to inspire this OC was me trying to create a universe in which [Fictional Character A] and [Fictional Character B] were destined to meet in every universe, but [B] was destined to die. This was an intended reversal where [A] was the doomed one. As for who A and B were originally, well, if you know you know.

🌂 - What genre do they belong in?

Hard scifi but they kind of lend themself to a short story format.

💚 - What is your OC’s gender identity and sexuality?

Agender but eventually they'll start to become a little more genderfluid as they start to see what's out there. They're pretty touch-repulsed so that's a no to sex.

🙌 - How many sibling does your OC have?

Do clones count as siblings? Especially if you were the only one to survive, and you've never known them personally? In which case, 98 siblings.

🍎 - What is the OC’s relationship w/their parents like?

The scientists in charge of 099's cloning project were absent for the entirety of their life. The parents of the original child that 099 is a distant clone of (Eurydice) are also dead.

🧠 - What do you like most about the OC?

Honestly it's 75% the angst and 25% the prospect of healing for 099. I also have machinations where they're a series antagonist for IAE that I'm hoping will come to fruition, eventually.

✏️ - How often do you draw/write about the OC?

I've been drawing them more recently! I got into an art show with an illustration of them. I don't really write for them though because frankly they're very strong as just a fucked up set of given circumstances.

💎 - Do you ever see yourself killing off the OC?

I don't think I'd be able to.

💀 - Does your OC have any phobias?

Claustrophobia and fear of abandonment, especially once Orpheus enters their life. Once they're out, they probably would also not be all that fond of large pools of water.

🍩 -Who is your OC’s arch-nemesis or rival?

They don't really have one. They're kind of their worst enemy honestly because they're just not doing well.

🎓 - How long have you had the OC?

The timestamps on my oldest artworks of them are from 2017.... Jesus. That's almost 7 full years.

🍥 - What age were you when you created the OC?

16 years old!

[overdevelopedglasses]

Tojoctober Day 20 - Phone

(Please select an item to be printed)

Alt title is from “Trials” by Starset

The LaD gang talk about mobile games.

(no spoilers!)

—-----------------

“Hey, Zhao-san, what are you doing?”

Joon-gi Han walks up to the Chinese man, who’s deeply engrossed in his phone. 

“Oh, this? Just a little game I like to play sometimes. You know, I have this thing on me all the time, don’t want it to be all for business. I don’t know if you’d understand that, would you, Han-kun?”

Zhao shows his phone to the other man, and Joon-gi Han sees the game he was referring to: a yellow bird was face-first on the ground right in front of two green pipes, and the English writing for “Game Over” was written on the screen, with two buttons hovering below them.

“I don’t have games on my phone, since I never thought about doing something like that… How does this game work?” Joon-gi Han asks, trying to mask his curiosity. Zhao gives him a mischievous grin.

“Well, it’s skill-based. You have to get this dumb little bird through the pipes and up your score that way. You just have to find the right rhythm to make the bird fly, in a way.”

He hands his phone to Joon-gi Han, with the title screen now visible.

“Just tap the button on the left to play.” Zhao says with a smile, taking a sip of his drink.

Joon-gi Han does so, and soon becomes engrossed in the game. The pattern he has to tap in becomes a weird bit of second nature to him, so he quickly is able to rack up his score with another few attempts. A few minutes pass before a voice cuts into his concentration.

“Wait, Zhao-san, how’d you get Flappy Bird on your phone?”

The voice belonged to Eri, the young secretary walking up to stand behind Joon-gi Han. He tilts his head so that she can see him play. Of course, this small action takes his focus away, which means the bird slams into the ground once again. He looks back and curses under his breath. His score was so high, too. 

Zhao gives the two of them a chuckle. “Well, I have my ways, and my connections.”

“No way, you have Flappy Bird?” Adachi pipes up, and Joon-gi Han sees the older man swivel on his bar stool away from his drink. “I heard that the game had been taken down from the application store a while ago?”

“Yup. What games do you have on your phone, Adachi-san?”

“Glad you asked!” Adachi jumps up from his barstool and shuffles over to the trio, pulling out his phone and turning it sideways.

“It’s this game called Genshin Impact! It has a really rich story and some great character designs.” Adachi flips his phone around to the group and shows off a somewhat small girl with blue hair, manipulating ice magic.

“What… the hell is that?”

“Don’t give me that!” Adachi replies, nudging Joon-gi Han in the shoulder, producing a chuckle out of Zhao.

“Well, why is this character the one you want to show us?” Zhao asks, arching his eyebrow.

“Well, I really like her story, for once. It’s really compelling. And she’s really powerful in battle. There are more characters than just her!”

“Maybe I should give it a try…” Eri says, outwardly pondering the thought, but Joon-gi Han can tell she isn’t very serious about the statement. He chuckles to himself.

“Hell yeah! Join me, Eri-chan. Maybe you can help me convince Nanba to start playing it, although that requires him to get a phone…” It was Adachi’s turn to become lost in thought, but a new voice flows into the main room of Survive.

“Really, Adachi? Of course you’d play Genshin.”

Saeko emerges from the stairway, leaning against the wall with a smirk, drawing laughter from Zhao and Eri. Joon-gi Han simply grins.

“What’s that supposed to mean!?”

“I just expected someone like you to play the game.” she retorts, causing Joon-gi Han to join the laughter. It’s a weird feeling, genuinely laughing in front of people, but he also has a growing trust in his friends. He can let a couple walls down, can’t he?

“Well, what games do you play, Sa-chan?” Adachi asked with a bite of confidence to his tone.

“Candy Crush, of course.” Saeko replies, and Adachi lets out a shocked gasp. 

“What’s Candy Crush?” Joon-gi Han asked, and Saeko gave him a look that just said “really?”

“Wow, the Geomijul really have you really living under a rock.” This earns her a returning glare from the man. “You match different colors together and they clear a board. It’s a puzzle.”

Joon-gi Han’s ears perked up at that. He always liked puzzles. “Candy Crush, right?” He grabs his own phone, one that the Geomijul only recently let him take outside of the territory, and begins to search the application store for puzzle games, finding many different varieties of puzzles. Mysteries, things like what Saeko described, and an odd one about a grandmother? He shakes his head and puts his phone away, filing the browsing of games as something to do later.

“What games do you have, Eri?”

“Oh! I play this game called Chicken Evolution! I really like it since it’s so simple, and it runs in the background, so I only have to check it every few hours.” Eri pulls up the cute looking game, with…

“Are those… mutant chickens?” Zhao asked, with a weird expression on his face.

“Well, the game is called Chicken Evolution, Zhao-san.” Adachi replies. “I’d expect there to be some weird ass designs.”

“Hey! That’s not nice. Apologize to Omelette Junior and Omelette the Seventh right now, Adachi-san.”

The group starts to laugh, but Joon-gi Han swivels in his chair as he hears the door to Survive open. Thankfully, the figure standing there is not one that sets off Joon-gi Han’s danger alarms, and he lets himself smile. 

“Wait, what’s this about games on your phone?” Ichiban steps into the space, a few grocery bags in his hands. He walks over to the bar, setting some down, and the bartender takes a couple of the bags from him, beginning to put some of the things away.

“Oh, hey Kasuga. Yeah, we’re showing each other what games we have on our phones. Do you have any games downloaded?”

“You… you can have games on your phone?” Kasuga asks with wonder and amazement coating his voice.

“Yes…?” Zhao replies, then remembers “Oh yeah, you were in prison since 2001. But yeah, technology has come a long wa-”

“CAN I GET DRAGON QUEST ON MY PHONE!?” Ichiban shouts with excitement, interrupting Zhao on accident.

This causes the whole party to burst into laughter. 

“I mean, you probably can?” Saeko taps away on her phone, then smiles. “Yeah, it looks like there’s a bunch of them on here.” She shows the group her screen, which has many of the Dragon Quest games on the store. “They seem to be a few hundred yen, but there you have it.”

Ichiban lets out a shout of excitement, hurriedly pulling out his own phone from his pocket.

“Or… I could probably get something special working on your phone, where you don’t have to pay…” Joon-gi Han winks at Ichiban, who lets out a small gasp and smiles.

“Han-kun, that’s piracy!” Zhao says sternly, poking him in the side jokingly.

The group starts to laugh again, calming down after a couple seconds.

“What about you, bartender? What do you play?” Eri asks the man who owns the establishment.

All heads turn towards the bartender, who had just finished putting away the groceries Ichiban brought in. He grabs a glass from the dish rack and begins to dry it, before responding cooly,

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

This draws groans, and then laughter, out from the party. They continue to debate the games until Nanba comes downstairs, which then makes everyone berate Nanba into getting his own phone.

[awanderingdeal]

Hey Lucy! Could you please write some goalie love? Maybe some hurt-comfort with Leo going to Kasey for advice or something like that? 💛

Edited: 20th Feb 23 - Nothing major, just rewriting some stuff with (what I hope) are much improved skills.

Hey, 💛 Here's some Kasey giving Leo advice after his first game loss.

Rating: G

CW: None that I can think of, but do drop me a message if I have missed anything.

Character credit belongs to @lumosinlove

Leo had lost games before. Of course he had. Nobody got through a high school hockey career without experiencing that low. Still, he hadn't been prepared for the guilt curling in his stomach, pulling at his insides until he felt bitter bile at his throat.

Swallowing, Leo slumped back in his stall trying to silence the jeers of their opponent's fans ringing in his ears. A few feet away, James and Thomas cooed over photos of Thomas' new nephew, whilst Nado and Timmy made similar noises over potential tattoo designs. The rest of the team seemed to have put the defeat behind them already, but even the itch of sweat drying beneath his pads wasn't enough to get Leo moving.

"Hey," Kasey said, slapping his hand against Leo's shoulder before taking a seat in the next stall. "You okay?"

Leo pressed his tounge against the back of his teeth, thinking about shrugging off the question. Kasey watched him patiently; the only sign he was waiting for an answer was in the slight tilt of his head. It reminded him of something his Mama had told him once. People think more than they talk sometimes. You've gotta be comfortable with the silences. He hadn't really understood it back then.

"How'd you do it?" Leo asked eventually

Kasey cocked his head further. "I'm going to need a bit more than that."

Sometimes you have to push just a little.

"Knowing that the loss was your fault," Leo said.

Kasey blinked and cocked his head even further. Was he a fucking cat?

But for the most part, people will talk if you let them.

"Okay," Leo sighed, tangling his fingers together. "I get we're a team, but I should've saved that second goal and if I had we'd have won."

"And if Sirius hadn't lost the puck in the first place?"

"Sirius' job is to score goals meaning there's always a risk of him losing the puck. My entire job is to save goals. It's the only reason I'm here."

Kasey laughed, smoothing his hair out of his face, "Sorry, it's just funny. Rookies, I mean. They never change." He sat more upright, smile dropping into something softer, more reassuring. "Look, Leo. Sometimes you just make a mistake. You've just got to shrug it off, do better next time. Besides, for the pick to end up in front of you, then somebody else messed up too and if you don't blame them then you don't get to blame yourself either. Win together. Lose together."

Everything Kasey was saying made sense, yet Leo found himself trying to twist the words into something that would fit his own narrative. Tugging at a lose piece of skin at the corner of his nail, Leo opened his mouth and then closed it again.

"Stop being stupid," Kasey said as he stood. "Not an insult. Like I said, rookies are all the same. It's normal. You're going to have to get over that self-depriciating shit real quick though, if you want to keep any semblance of mental health in this game."

Leo huffed a breath feeling the air flare his nostrils. He wanted to stomp his feet and tell Kasey he was wrong. Instead, he leaned forwards and began to peel off his pads.

Kasey nodded knowingly. "I can't promise the losses hurt less with time, but you will get used to them. Grab a shower. We're getting burgers. Dinner's on Cap."

Sirius jerked his head up from the tablet he was engrossed with. "Excuse me?"

"The rookie needs cheering up. You're Captain."

"Burgers! Yes!" James whooped, "Thanks Pads. Can Lily come?"

Leo glanced between Kasey and Sirius. He didn't think he'd ever be confident enough to tell Sirius what to do. Despite clear attempts to to be as welcoming as possible he was still Sirius Black, captain of the Gryffindor Lions and impressive as fuck. That was just intimidating.

"OK, D'accord," Sirius threw his hands up in surrender, laughter bubbling on his lips. He shook his head muttering something in French that Leo couldn't quite catch. "For Leo. Just this once."

"Love you, Cap!" Finn called, starting a round of declarations that only got increasingly more ridiculous.

"Words can't express my gratitude."

"What did we do to deserve such a kind and generous leader?"

"I'm blowing you a kiss. Catch it."

"Thanks, Sirius," Leo said quietly, as the team quickly moved on to helping Evgeni choose the perfect shade of blue to repaint his bedroom. "Appreciate it."

Sirius just nodded at him, returning to his tablet briefly before looking back up at Leo. "You're doing great. Keep it up." His face twisted into something conflicted then settled on a smile.

"Everybody is doing great," Kasey agreed, only the slightest hint of sarcasm dripping into the comment. "What a fantastic team we are. Now hurry up, I'm starving."

With each item of clothing Leo removed and the warmth of the water on his skin, the familiar tightness across his chest began to disapate. It was going to be okay. Better than okay, maybe. The Lions were a pretty great bunch of people.

[the-nocturnal-writer]

Your talent for drawing is outstanding! Thank you for showing us your drawings! You're an amazing designer.

Also care to share some facts about the ROs + Crow, please 🫠?

😭😭 Going to make me cry to sleep with how sweet you all are... Thank you, Anon! I try to improve every day.

Random RO Facts? At 12AM? More common then you think. I got you, Anon (Now I must try not to fall asleep or spoil too much, which I’m terrible at ahhhhhh) It's a little long so- Under the cut it goes!

Ashborn

Ashborn lives and works with her mother, Lady Dalilah, at Arcana Herbs. Since Ash is rather strong and tall compared to Dalilah, they usually do the heavy lifting and deliveries, otherwise they’re behind the counter serving customers. Thanks to this, they already sort of know the MC, since they do the deliveries for The Wolf Den.

They are unintentionally the biggest charmer of all the romance options, being the best in social situations and the most friendly with others. Ashborn is also the scariest to anger, I thought it was Constantin… But nope, it’s Ash. Fear the one who is hard to anger.

She can’t fit through the majority of doors in Evenfall, Ashborn is too tall and often hits their head when not paying attention. Though, Ash isn’t the tallest Romantic Interest. (They were before Constantin and Sonja showed up. They also suffer head trauma from the doorframes.) 

Ashborn was born in a small desert kingdom outside Darkrow, travelling and ending up in Evenfall with their mother when they were around ten or eleven years old.

Heka

Not much is really known about where Heka comes from, other then the fact he lived in the kingdom neighbouring Ashborn’s homeland for a small time, it’s the place that actually inspired the current appearance of his human form. Not long after, Heka ended up moving to Evenfall to offer his medical skills, as well as following a strange feeling in his gut… 

Before even all that, Heka travelled the seas and explored a lot, so he gained a wide knowledge of the world in his time on ships. It also happens to be how he met Constantin back in the day.

Heka has a strong infinity with healing magic, magic not commonly granted to devils, making him a rarity among his people. His magic is the reason he decided to learn and become a doctor during his time at sea.

Every devil knows each other, the Infernal Realm isn’t big enough for devils to not meet at least once or twice in a lifetime. Sonja has never, at least in her time there, seen Heka in the Infernal Realm. This makes her wonder if Heka was even born there or if maybe he’s just far older then she is and left before her time. It’s a mystery. 

Constantin

Where to begin with Constantin… Well for a start, Constantin isn’t a local of Evenfall but was born in the Kingdom of Darkrow. Constantin was born to a vampire father and human mother, being raised mostly by her until being found and made into a Hunter. Sadly it’s a fate most half-blood children face. 

Constantin is a very skilled hunter, learning in his youth to use various weapons but favouring swords and his fists in fights. His preferred weapon is an Eastern-style blade that belonged to his father.

Love and emotions are something Constantin has to re-learn, his social etiquette is horrible and he has a hard time expressing his feelings through words. I used to think he’d also be horrible with physical affection and expressions, but after writing more it felt more right to make him someone who shows how he feels through actions. I also feel that despite him not eating human food, Constantin is a good cook and will do it often for people he cares for. It’s a habit he had to learn sleeping with a workaholic who doesn’t eat.

Constantin isn’t ever seen without his silver locket, it has a lot of sentimental value and is a reminder of what little humanity he has left. I’d say without it, there would be no chance of ever teaching him love again. 

Why not, a few more random facts- Constantin is extremely sensitive to touch, his hair, hands and back being the most reactive to physical contact. He also has a big hatred for normal fucking clothing. Shirts? Hates them. Sleeves? Awful. Pants that aren’t skin-tight? Pure shit. He likes his more revealing attire, maybe it’s the vampire in him…

Rowan

Rowan is a devout, an Ethereal born from a Warden and Elven race (more to be posted about Elven races soon), in Rowan’s case, they descend from a druid bloodline. Druids are creatures with a strong connection to nature and animals, some even having animal features (like Rowan’s fox ears). They grew up in the Ethereal realm and don’t know much about their mother or her side of the family, just what she was. 

Rowan is an old acquaintance of Sonja, the two having first met during their time serving the Infernal and Ethereal armies, but both will never admit to their past due to respect and not wanting to reopen old wounds. 

Their current reasoning for being in Evenfall is unknown but they know more about the current murders that they're letting on. Rowan seems to also have knowledge of MC’s visions and where the power originates. 

Rowan is the hardest to love, but quickest to hate, the devout purposely being a rather unbearable person to avoid having close friendships and relationships. Rowan avoids relations of any sort like the plague.

And since they are going to be announced soon as their character art is done, Eden and Sonja! The lovely ladies of Evenfall. 

Sonja

Sonja is part of the Evenfall Guards, having worked up the ranks to be the Guard Captain's right-hand woman. She’s also the only non-human guard in Evenfall, not to mention the only competent guard to believe the MC about everything going on. How a woman like her ends up a guard in a town like Evenfall, well, you’ll have to wait till she opens up for that story.

It’s hard to tell what exactly Sonja’s height is, she has terrible posture outside of fighting, but she’s estimated to be around 7’0 or taller. This officially makes her the tallest RO! She will use height to her advantage.

Sonja is a big drinker and a regular at The Wolf Den, but no one has seen the devil intoxicated… When not there, Sonja can usually be found training recruits, patrolling the streets or doing paperwork at the library (it’s more quiet then the guard quarters). 

Remember how I said she uses her height to her advantage? That’s in many scenarios… I won’t say she’s not a tough lady to romance, I’ll just say when she does fall (very hard I might add), MC better not be within range of walls or benches… or any surface Sonja can lift them on/against. 

Eden

Eden is the owner of the local library ‘Serpent’s Tale’ and a single mother to her young daughter, Fern. Eden doesn’t go out much because of her family and work, but she does share a unique friendship with Ashborn and Sonja, being the only one who can make them get along. 

Everyone in Evenfall loves Eden for her kind and caring nature, most not expecting her to be a Gorgon, a creature known for harming humans and turning them to stone with a single gaze. Eden is very careful though and keeps her human form up to protect everyone. Luckily, Fern is too young to use such magic yet, but she can’t create a human facade either.

The best part about Eden is that she’s the healthiest option for romance. She’s just very confident in the sense of how she wants to be treated and how she should treat her partner. Eden is just the sweetest woman and I’d say the only one who doesn’t have an incredibly slow start. When she cares and loves, she knows right away and isn’t going to waste time being coy about it. 

All the snakes on her head have their own unique personality and are named, which becomes a little confusing for her when they tangle together during her sleep. 

Eden loves dancing and music with a passion but often finds she can’t attend festivals or livelier nights at The Wolf Den due to running the library. 

Crowley

Lastly and obviously, Crowley! I love how some seem to want to know about him. Crow’s winning hearts he doesn’t deserve…

Crowley is the eldest of three siblings; Vivian, Carmilla and Roth. All of which he cares about dearly, even if one of them is a bit of a psychopath.

A fact not many know (unless they look far back in my post) is that Crowley is royalty, he simply avoids his duties because ruling a country that shuns what you truly are isn’t his thing and he has a bad relationship with both his mothers. One of them wasn’t the kindest to her kids in the beginning and the other simply did nothing to help or defend them. Love can make you weak. Despite the rough beginnings, Crowley’s a pretty big softy.

The cigarettes he smokes are just herbal and get their red colour from being marinated in human blood. It helps calm him down and keep his hunger under control. His thirst is beyond that of a normal vampire. 

Crowley holds important information about what might be happening in Evenfall. 

I feel like I’ve revealed too much but at the same time nothing at all… I’ll happily do more if anyone asks! I love writing about the gang and how they act and what they like. Maybe if I can find an OC ask post to reshare or something? I never know where to look for these things pfffft.

[lupismaris]

The Opening Act of Spring- a Black Sails Fic. Chapter 1.

The Silverflinthamilton modern au that I’ve been drawing for over a year (where Flint owns a gay bar) is being written! Set five-ish years after a modern canon which will be somewhat told through flashbacks and exposition.

(Chapter one of idk how many but until more is written it’s going to live entirely on tumblr. )

Somewhere in the Village, Silver was counting Rolex and Cartier wristwatches, drop diamond earrings, plated gold layered necklaces, and birkins that were made to look well worn. He was counting, and noting the clear bell-like tone of the glass ware as it clinked together- crystal, the real stuff with the faintest etchings, but understated enough to look like it belonged in an effortless rooftop lounge. He didn’t usually enjoy rooftops, the only way out was the elevator unless he wanted to make an outfit change and that was usually too much work, and most rooftops only had one reserved for the restaurant, bar, or lounge. It was poor design for emergencies, poorer still for anyone looking to make a clean exit.

“Oh, enough already.”

Silver blinked and the room around him hummed loudly, violently, back to life, the carefully selected sounds of glassware and certain voices drowned out by a wave of noise.

Rackham sat across the small marble topped table, dressed neatly in a silk shirt that was unbuttoned nearly to the navel, tight high wasted trousers that made him seem even taller than he already was, and an assortment of jewelry that Silver knew half belonged to his sister. The exasperated look on his face, and the amusement that couldn’t be hidden behind his rose tinted glasses, made Silver smile.

“Sorry. Old habits.”

“I didn’t invite you here specifically for a job. This is called drinks, aperitif even- its what normal people do,” Rackham waved a hand and Silver watched the way his gold bangles caught the soft light of the room, accented further by the late afternoon sun. “No need to case the joint, cause if you get caught lifting anything worth less than 20k I’m not covering for you.”

Silver rolled his eyes. “As if I’d settle for anything less than that. You know me better, Jack.”

“Well I’d like to think so but your last few jobs have me a trifle concerned, sweetums.”

Their second round of drinks were delivered, Rackham flashing the waiter a smile and placing an order for an assortment of small plates. Silver wasn’t particularly hungry, not that he had eaten, it was more that the sudden summons to Manhattan had gone from generally positive to somewhat suspicious, once Rackham had started suggesting things that weren’t entirely business. And that suspicious feeling left his stomach a little too uneasy for overpriced appetizers with colorful garnishes.

But Rackham seemed unbothered by the tension in Silver’s shoulders.

“Is this a critique then? I thought I was being invited as a glorified house guest. At least that’s how my sister makes it sound. Not like I’m much good in your fashion designer games now am I?” He asked, taking up his glass. “Unless you want to truss me up like a prized poodle in whatever your newest designs are.”

“I can hear the note of condescension and it is unappreciated you fuck. Honest business is honest business and your sister and I happen to be doing very well for ourselves, thank you very much. Two of our designs are in this room alone,” Rackham said, and while his posture remained relaxed and unbothered, the knife like edge to his words made Silver smile brightly.

“Oh don’t twist up your thong, if you’re going to insult my skill it’s only fair I take a dig at yours don’t you think?”

“No. Because my skill has rogue fashion studios in Paris and now Manhattan,” Rackham says flatly. “That are giving the design houses a legitimate challenge and strong arming our way into fashion week. You, sir, are back to swindling old men for their investment portfolios or old women for their opera jewels. Things you have long since out grown.”

The noise of the room shifted again, as Silver sat back in his seat and scowled. “So this is a critique.”

“Would you prefer round one of an intervention?”

“Not really.”

Rackham sighed and set his drink down, propping his elbows on the table. “Look- you are, without risk of inflating your ego, the smartest man I know. I hate it, believe me. And you are wasting your time and talent on jobs that are going to get you caught. Your sister knows this. I know this. Even Chaz knows this-”

“Oh for fucks sake-”

“Ah let me finish- It’s been what, five years now? Six? Since the big one- since the glory that was our shared retirement.” Rackham spread his hands wide as if that simple gesture could, somehow by some miracle, encompass everything that had happened in the short, harrowing year that lead up to their so called retirement. “And you have not managed to retire.”

“No- no that’s not true. I did retire. I did. And it was awful. Okay?” Silver argued. “It was the worst fucking thing I’ve ever done. I mean my god you think people actually enjoy just laying around on a beach all day? I just-”

“You didn’t have to actually retire you idiot but you were supposed to find something else to do other than this-” Rackham waved at Silver, again as if the simple gesture could encompass everything that was his current state. “You could have done just about anything, conned your way into, I dunno, vineyard ownership, art collecting, travel writing solely for the sake of writing, writing bad romance novels for sexless married straight people, romance novels for the queers, literally anything-”

“I tried- and it was all just-” Silver sighed, giving up on an answer and instead sipping his whiskey cocktail. It was easier than trying to explain the fact that somehow, in that short, impossible year, he’d finally become someone real, someone tangible, and now he couldn’t be anyone else. And that at least, by being a con man, he was staying true to himself in the one way he knew how.

Rackham sat back in his seat again and pushed his glasses up on his head, tussling his carefully mismanaged curly mullet.  “I know. Its not easy, finding a new life to lead. It took all of us time to find the people we were before it all happened. To find the people we wanted to be in the ashes the were left behind. I can… only imagine it’s much harder for you.”

Wasn’t that a laughable notion. A truth of course, Silver conceded, but a laughable one.

Everyone had lost something that year, you don’t go into a con of that level without taking risks. You don’t challenge men of that stature, companies of that wealth, collections of that value, without putting everything you value on the line.

But everyone else had walked away with something, someone. Some semblance of themselves.

Everyone but Silver.

“Your letter had said this was about a job,” Silver said finally. A letter. An actual letter too, on nice paper with a letter head and a wax seal and everything because Rackham was, if nothing else, authentic to the core and spared no detail, even in gently bribing a friend, nae, colleague, into what was starting to feel a little bit like a trap, though Silver couldn’t put his finger on why. “Does Max know about it?”

“Yes. I wouldn’t summon her brother without consulting her first. I like my dick well enough were it is thanks.”

“What Job?”

Rackham smiled and shook his head. “That’s not what this is. This is aperitif, drinks, catching up, remember?”

“We don’t do that, Jack.”

“We never had the opportunity.”

“Hardly have to start now.”

“I disagree.” He tilted his head. “By the way, what name is it you’re using these days.”

Ah.

That was why it was starting to feel like a trap.

The amusement had faded from Rackham’s eyes. He was watching Silver like a Cat, the way he used to in the Islands all those years ago, when he was hoping to catch Silver’s tell, catch his bluff. The faintest, thoughtless smile hung at the corners of his lips, accented by his curled mustache.

Silver held his gaze and said nothing.

“Mmm. That’s what I thought.”

“Jack-”

“Still using the name he gave you.”

Rackham’s smile grew as he sipped his drink, something golden like sunlight as it swirled around it’s coupe glass. Silver fought for calm, keeping his face impassive as he watching Rackham scan the room like any diner would.

“I chose the name, thank you.”

“Oh pish posh, you chose it, he chose it, tomato, tomahto. We all know the truth, Silver.”

Rackham fixed him with a hard look, arm hooked over the back of his chair and a cold light in his eyes.

“He’s the one who pinned you with that name like the tag on a fucking corpse. You’ve worn a hundred names in this life and the last, and whats it matter now? Oh nothing, just that your own personal god gave meaning to the empty promises you made the day you tried to rob him blind.”

There was a knife on the table. Sharp. Cerated. But that would be more than the moment deserved, even if the curdled taste on Silvers tongue demanded a bitter iron accompaniment. He could get up and walk away, that was the civil thing to do, and they were now civil people, feral things made clean and tame in the eyes of the well mannered world, or so his sister would remind him every so often during their calls.

But the hard look in Rackham’s eyes softened and he set aside his drink, reaching across the table for Silver’s hand. Silver stared at it for a moment before reaching to take it.

“You’re not the only one sour about the fact you got stuck. I’m just sorry yours…”

“Went up in smoke?” Silver offered with a tired smile.

Rackham laughed softly. “Well yes, but then faking one’s death is a pretty clean way out of the game. It was kind of you, offering him such a way out, when he didn’t deserve it.”

The uneasy feeling that had twisted Silver’s stomach up into knots was starting to reach his chest, twisting and churning it like the old sea before a storm. Silver pulled his hand away and sipped his drink, giving the waiter a moment to drop off the small plates Rackham had ordered.

The lounge, with the reflections in the glass of nearby buildings, felt a bit untethered to Silver, crowded and empty depending on where you looked, people coming and going in large groups and small. The decor was clean and simple, well placed greenery taking the place of abstract art, and two art deco inspired bars placed at opposite ends of the rooftop to give a sense of wide open space. Among the movement and the noise, it was easy to feel like one’s eyes were playing tricks, and with his nerves on edge, Silver felt like he was seeing ghosts in the corner of his eyes. He knew it was just the conversation, summoning them, that he wasn’t seeing old allies and enemies amongst the Manhattan socialites on a Tuesday evening.

He knew Rackham wouldn’t risk him like that.

Didn’t he?

“That isn’t fair to him,” Silver said once the waiter had left, Rackham glancing up from his plate. “To Flint-”

The rest quietly disappeared, exchanged to the Spanish government for a very lucrative payout (was it the total value? No but near enough that everyone would land on their feet, made sweeter by what they cleared out from Woodes’ investments), which then of course had been divided up into the appropriate accounts via wire so that, ideally, no one would ever have to see each other ever again.

The mention of the name alone shifted the air in the room, only for Silver of course No one else had any reason to notice the delicate way he uttered the single syllable. He wasn’t even sure if he was still using the name these days.

Their names had never fully gone public, during The Con. Sure they’d all been in the Islands, engaged in various events and jobs for The Guthrie Shipping Company, now out of business permanently, but records were lost, names smudged, burned, deleted, hard-drives wiped, the usual clean up that needs to be done after a dozen deaths, a minor workers rebellion, and the disappearance of 5 million in Spanish gold.

A portion of the gold had been seized on a private flight out of Nassau, in the luggage of one Woodes Rogers, who even five years later was still claiming he was framed, despite a plethora of evidence linking him and other English investors to various aspects of the Con.

It had after all been a very hectic year, a bit of time apart was in order.

They were meant to scatter.

Except Max and Anne and Jack and Charles, the Rangers as they had affectionately become known, who wandered off to Europe, to rusticate in Italy if Silver remembered correctly. Of course they were destined to stay together, the world now their oyster to bend to their mighty wills, and Silver was, truly, glad for them. No one quite deserved a soft and joyful ending, free of blood and non-consenting bondage, quite like his sister and her lover, and her lover’s men. Italy had become France, once the plan for their “Rogue Fashion House” as Jack called it, had come to fruition. Max and Jack each worked on the designs, Jack tailored them almost entirely himself and Max acted as head model. It was art for Art’s sake, they didn’t need the money (They’d swindled a few wealthy tourists and retirees on their Italian tour, and they were comfortable), they just wanted the magazines frothing at the bit, club kids and fashion week hipsters wearing their designs instead of Dior.

To disrupt and irritate and make their name stick.  A bit of glory all their own.

Silver could support that.

Rackham tilted his head, toothpick from one of the plates between his teeth. “Don’t do that. Don’t go giving the man grace when you already gave him a miracle. Christ above Silver I’ll start wondering about that bleeding old heart of yours next.”

Silver smiled wryly. “Nothing to worry about there. That’s cold and hollow and tired. And done with, thank you very much.”

“Oh is that so?”

“Yes. I don’t have it in me and I’d like it if you’d just left it alone, I can smell the meddling,” Silver warned him, “I’m not interested. If I was  I’d have gone to London and looked him up.”

“London?” Rackham frowned.

“Yeah. London. Or I dunno, maybe he went to Scotland, he’d probably be much happier up that way. He could go on for hours about how much he hated England but with-” Silver shook his head. The ghost was in the corner of his eye again, not quite the man he once knew but unnerving all the same.

His Flint had worn his hair short near the end, shaved clean cut in a military style with a haunted, gaunt look to his face. Still handsome, still the kind of man to hold the room’s attention and breath in the palm of his hand without so much as a spoken word, all he needed was a look. But the darkness that had come to live inside them both had graced Flint’s shoulders like a mantle, well worn, well loved, regal in it’s weight and grief and echoing in every facet of his body.

Silver cleared his throat. “With his husband being alive I’m sure he’d want to go home, pick up the pieces of their old lives and everything. I figured they made their way back to the UK once he broke him out of the hospital. I let him. That’s why it’s not fair, to say he didn’t deserve such a way out,” he clarified, as Rackham listened. “He didn’t- I was supposed to meet him. Once he’d found his husband and gotten him safely home.”

“… you chose not to.”

“It was never formally arranged.” Silver shrugged and sipped his drink. The whiskey had lost it’s flavor, only the burn remained. “When I showed him the file, all the evidence that his husband was alive in that facility, after all these years- he didn’t wait to make a plan, Jack. He left. That night with what few essentials he could pack and a kiss goodbye.”

There was a look in Rackham’s eye now, as Silver explained, that seemed almost pitying. There were few things Silver hated as much as pity.

“He left for one airport. I left for another. By the time he was in Austria I was on my way to New Zealand with a new phone number that only Max had and everything else burned and scrapped completely. Put the little I had into secured storage.”

Rackham sighed. “Fucking hell, John.”

“It was for the best.”

“Oh is that what you’ve been telling yourself?”

“Fuck you-”

“Yes yes, fuck me, you’re a good enough lay. The point stands, you made a choice, again. And you’re living with the fallout. Well maybe not living.”

“I am. And I’d like to keep doing that if it’s all the same to you.”

Rackham shook his head. “It’s not. And it’s not to your sister. We both came to the decision to call you and ask you here, not just for a job, which there is one I promise though that will be discussed once we are all together. So you have to stay long enough for that to happen no matter how sick of me you get,” he smiled sweetly and Silver considered the risks of punching him. Fighting Anne later was never worth it. Throwing a drink? No that came with public reaction. “Look I can see you debating your exit and whether or not you can subtly fillet me with that knife, but before you do, can I please just say my piece and then it will rest, for good, and I’ll not bring it up again?”

Silver held his gaze for a moment, looking for a tell, a bluff, anything.

The trouble was Rackham was as good a card shark as Silver.

There was nothing.

“Fine.”

“Thank you.” Rackham picked up his drink again and sat back in his seat, sipping at it as he looked Silver over for a moment. “Now. I am grateful that you told me your side of things in a very adorable attempt to try and, for whatever reason be it delirium or lingering feelings, give some grace to Flint and the fact that while you have been drifting aimlessly from con to con and mark to mark, he and his impeccably well dressed trophy husband have been living out their quaint little fairy tail.”

“Is this going to be a long final piece?”

“Hush. Now where was I-”

“The fairy tale.” Silver gritted out.

The ghost was sitting in the corner of his right eye now. Sitting there by the bar, not fluttering in and out, just sitting. It wasn’t Flint, just a man with similar red hair, longer of course, heavier built, but the fucked up wiring in Silver’s fucked up brain so desperately wanted it to be a ghost, so desperately wanted it to be Flint. Not for any good reason.

They had nothing to say to each other.

“Yes the fairy tale. You’ve gone to the ends of the proverbial earth because you, god forbid, fell in love with the worst possible man you could have fallen in love with, and we’ve forgiven you for that, and you give him this miracle, yes? You do this because you love him. You give him the impossible, his husband, who was dead. And instead of living out this fairy tale with him and his husband who, if I may, is a specimen, you commit yourself to a-” Rackham paused for a moment, sipping his drink as he mulled over the words.

“Life of my own?”

Rackham scoffed. “A mockery of one but fine, a life of your own, without even having a conversation. Fine. I’d be a bit allergic to such a conversation too but what I don’t understand, is why that bastard, with all the shit he’s done in his life, get’s the fairy tale.”

“Because he does. And that’s how it needed to be. If he didn’t things wouldn’t have ended. You know that, Jack.” Silver finished his drink. “The con would have gone on for ever, the gold would have become another treasure, another smugglers business to bring down, another union uprising, you know it would have gone on-”

“And so you bring him down with his Achilles heel and condemn yourself to purgatory. How noble for a man who claimed to never have morals.”

“Your point, Jack. If you please.”

“The point is, I have two reasons for you being back in Manhattan. The first is a very selfish cause, the job. The second,” Rackham waved a hand with a easy smile, “let’s call a spiteful settling of the scales.”

“The fuck are you talking about-”

The ghost.

The ghost in the corner of his eye.

Silver felt his blood run cold and his heart drop, a lead weight into the pit of his empty stomach. He sat, still as a man possibly could with fear clawing it’s way up his throat like a caged animal desperate for air.

Rackham watched him, carefully, sipping his cocktail. “Do you know why I picked this spot? It’s a new place, just opened a couple weeks ago and still very precious, hard to get a table. The dream of a whiz kid from the Bronx so I’m told, incredibly talented, next to no formal training, just a devotion and ambition. And of course,” a tilt of the head towards the bar, “the right sympathetic ear with a very sexy bank account. Takes a bit of digging online to find the investors, they prefer privacy, not to overshadow the stars they patron-”

“Jack-” Silver’s voice barely registered over the echoing noise of the lounge.

The ghost was moving, greeting someone at the bar, someone in a chef’s coat.

“But if you do go digging, if it interested you, you’d find one Lord Thomas Hamilton,” Rackham said looking Silver over. “He’s a devoted patron of well deserving cases it seems. Especially now that he’s got his old man’s money on top of whatever share Flint still has in the vault.”

There was a knife in his hand. Silver didn’t remember reaching for it, the cerated dinner knife clutched in a white knuckle grip so that the blade was parallel with his wrist, sharp edge outward. But holding it, solid and real and sure, was a comfort all the same. Even if the ghost was just some man with red hair.

The room felt impossibly small, suffocating, the sound muted save for Rackham’s voice. His hands rested on his lap, knife in the right, the left clutching tightly at his left knee, that ached with an old, vengeful pain.

“They’re not in the UK, Silver. They spent six months there I think, long enough to get the paperwork resolved for the inheritance and make sure the Lady Barlow was comfortable situated in her new digs. She’s doing well by the way. But once Thomas Hamilton was cleared from the hospital? Flint brought him back to New York far as I can tell, before finding a quiet spot up in New England for a time to weather the worst of it. But they tell me it was only a year or so before they were settling down in the City properly.”

“They- they Tell you?” Silver forced himself to ask.

Rackham nodded. “Considering Flint hunted us down the moment he realized you’d flown the fucking coop?Yeah. They tell us quite a bit these days. We kept our mouths shut in the beginning, other than to tell him you were alive. Had a feeling if we didn’t do that he’d topple back into the old ways over night, but what can you do hmm? Anyway, He let it go once the trail went cold. You did the job rather neatly, for what it’s worth.”

The terror, the grief, or whatever feelings Silver was forced to withstand in that moment must have shown on his face. Rackham sighed, and sipped his drink, his smile soft and indulgent around the rim of his coupe glass.

“What was that you were saying before? Your heart being cold and hollow? Sounds a bit like that grave you should have put him in when you had the chance, don’t you think?” he asked softly. “Before love snared you like the rest of us?”

Again the ghost was moving in the corner of his vision, talking to the person in the chef’s coat, shaking his hand, turning away from the bar to face the room- cold icy panic filled Silver to the core. Everything left unsaid, every goodbye rehearsed in hotel bathrooms at 3 in the morning, every broken apology, every canceled phone call from burner cells and hotel lobby phones- everything began to echo through his mind with the urgency of a siren.

And the grief.

Oh the grief.

He felt like he was drown all over again.

“He hasn’t spotted you yet,” Rackham said, confirming the fear. “But he’s close. He’s scanned the room twice, glanced this way with a curious look but I think that’s cause of me. He won’t acknowledge me in public without his husband though. In truth, I wasn’t sure he’d be here tonight but it was as good a chance as any.”

“Jack please-” Silver was willing to beg. He’d never begged before, but this seemed like a good enough reason to start.

“You have a clear path to the exit and the elevator, with what should be enough cover once the kitchen door opens. I’ve been watching them, they have a rhythm.” He pulled a card out from his wallet and passed it to Silver. “I know you have a room but this is the hotel suite your Sister booked for you. It’s closer to us but not so much so that he’ll find you with that irritatingly smart brain of his.”

Silver took the card and pocketed it. He’d only arrived the night before, checked in to a little boutique hotel by Grand Central to keep his head down. But whatever Max had planned was what he’d do, he was too worried about Flint right now to argue with her, and she had probably planned for this anyhow.

 “Take a deep breath and count to ten,” Rackham said firmly. “On ten, get up and walk calmly for the exit. Calmly, do you understand me?”

Silver nodded.

“If he follows you I’ll do what I can to slow him down. He’s not going to catch you. I promise you John.”

Silver knew Rackham’s word was good.

All tricks and lies and charm aside, he knew that to be true.

“Ready?”

“Yes.”

“From 10. Starting now.”

Silver inhaled all the way to five and exhaled from five to ten, at which point he smiled and thanked Jack for the drinks, made a quick excuse about having to run. He got up from the table, placing the knife back with the rest of the silverware, and made sure to turn his back to the bar. Rackham grabbed his hand briefly, giving it a quick squeeze.

“Run, Rabbit,” Rackham said with a wink, and Silver made for the exit.

They timed it well enough, Silver headed for the door just as a wave of orders came out from the kitchen. The floor was confused for a moment, a chaotic dances of servers in white aprons and newly arriving diners trying to get to their tables and other patrons flagging someone down for their bill. Silver did his best to weave in and out of the various moving bodies, keeping his head down and eyes on the door, wondering to himself if this was how Orpheus had felt in that fateful challenge.

Fuck if that wasn’t proof he was still in hell over it all, ruined to the day he finally died by the secret romantic that Flint had been. There he was terrified of facing Flint again for the first time in over five years and he was thinking of Orpheus and Eurydice.

What a joke.

Just a few more tables to clear, and the hostess stand, and then Silver would be free, able to disappear around the corner and into the crowds of millions below, reveling in the springtime evening. He’d be free, he told himself, as he carefully sidestepped around a waitress who nearly dropped a tray on him.

“God I’m sorry sir, you good?” the waitress asked as she steadied herself, already taking a few steps away.

“I’m alright, I’m alright,” Silver assured her, only to find himself looking back at Rackham, and in turn, the bar where his ghost had been standing.

His ghost who was staring right at him, as if he too was looking a dead man in the eye.

Flint was wearing white.

It was Flint, of course, a bit older. He’d grown his hair back, it was falling in loose waves across his shoulders even with the more pronounced widows peak. There was more gray in it now, bright streaks of it along the temples and woven into it like starlight, combed into his beard and mustache that he still wore thick and well groomed the way he had when Silver had kissed him goodbye. Silver’s skin prickled with the phantom touch of it, the way it had felt to be kissed by him, the tickle of his beard along his skin. He’d filled out at long last it was easy to see even at this distance, his soft barrel chested torso, broad shoulders no longer weighed down with an impossible weight. He was dressed in simple, elegant clothes- a cleanly pressed button down and well fitted suit pants, leather loafers, a bit of jewelry that caught the light, all subtle and understated the way he always had been.

But what nearly broken Silver, what nearly kept his feet from moving and let him be caught? The silliest thing of all really.

Silver could hardly remember a time the man wore anything that wasn’t a mourning color.

He heard Rackham’s voice, a loud overly smarmy greeting as he moved to join Flint at the bar and intercept him before he could catch up to Silver and that served to force Silver’s feet to start moving again. He didn’t wait to watch as Flint no doubt shoved his way past Rackham, with whatever niceties or lack there of he could muster in his anger. He cleared the hostess stand and rounded the corner, nearly sprinting as best as he could on his prosthetic for the elevators as everything he’d fought to keep down for so many years tore its way back up his throat. He had to wonder what scars it would leave, whether it would match the rest of his collection.

“Silver!” came Flint’s voice from behind him. “Will you- Silver stop!”

A moment of divine providence, the elevator was waiting. A kind couple, clearly on a date, held the doors for him and Silver slipped inside with a bright smile and a sweet note of thanks. He pressed himself against the back wall and took a slow breath.

“Sir? Elevator?” the couple asked, still holding the door.

Silver lifted his head to see Flint standing there on the other side of the open door, arms limp at his sides.

His hands were shaking.

“No,” Flint said with a polite smile, “No sorry I realize I forgot my phone, I’ll get the next one, thank you.” He bowed his head and backed away so the doors could close, the couple turning to each other to continue their conversation.

It took a moment for the doors to chime and close, and all the while they waited, Silver was pinned under the fierce, familiar deep sea gaze he’d come to love. He could only hope his own expression was empty, impassive maybe, cold, quiet, anything besides what he was actually feeling. He was a con man for fucks sake he should be able to manage in moments like this.

But Flint looked the way he had the day they said goodbye, without knowing it was going to be goodbye. The day he’d learned that Thomas was alive, and had been all those long years, kept from him just out of reach. Haunted, with a new kind of rage brewing beneath the surface of the sea.

And Silver felt himself beginning the grieving processes all over again as the doors closed and his Captain disappeared from view.

[miraculouslumination]

Honestly I kind of don't like the way some people talk about tone tags on social media - like it sometimes feels like people are two steps away from returning to the "x accommodation isn't useful for ME therefore it's Morally Bad and Cringe and I'm going to make fun of anyone and everyone who uses it" such as what happened with fidget spinners and other stuff like that

And all I can say is that tone tags are literally just that. An accommodation. Specifically, a personal one

Yes, there are a lot of acronyms, and I do agree it's kind of ridiculous to expect people to remember all of them! Especially fellow ND people with bad memory or even anxiety over having to remember each one! However, literally like everything else, especially with accommodations like this, please remember

What works for you, does not always work for others

I am a highly anxious autistic ADHD person, and I often have had many high anxiety episodes because of something friends would text me and then say "it was just a joke" - when I am already in the height of anxiety, telling me later that "I was joking" hardly helps

For example, I once had a friend say "all of [my] OCs are cringe ass babies" (literally a direct quote from our DMs)

This fucking sent me down, emotionally and mentally, into the crust of the earth - and I told her that "hey, you said something really rude, and I didn't like it" as I could feel my chest growing heavy and tight and my body shaking because this HURT - a LOT

And then she says "wait - what? I'm sorry I was just joking" which she meant genuinely, but my brain still questioned it

Now, for me, personally, if it was "your OCs are a bunch of cringe ass babies /j /lh" then I would be able to decipher and read her message as a light-hearted, poke-to-the-ribs type joke. Otherwise I cannot tell what someone's tone is at all, and with a comment like that, my anxiety (coupled with the fact I've had people irl maliciously attack me for my art + character design skills) will just assume the worst

I have read countless Calm messages as Loud and Angry, and I have read Upset messages as Bored and generally just got confused by them, and it has always created problems that could be so easily solved with an accommodation such as this

I, personally, suck at reading tone. And I've seen some people say "well, you can just slap tone tags on anything, even if you don't mean it" and....yeah. That's the flaw of any language. I can say that I'm not mad at anyone in my friend group, even when I am absolutely furious with one or multiple of them. I can say "jk lol 😂" and "omg it was JUST a joke 🤣" after calling someone's mom a fat, lazy cow who belongs in a barn and subsequently making them upset, even if I was being insulting.

ANYONE can do this. Language existing means people are going to use it to lie, to make themselves and their intentions look better. Hell, everything online revolves around this constant chance of "maybe the 22 year black butch autistic lesbian I'm donating money to online is actually a 40 year old upper class white cishet allistic woman who just wants to scam a bunch of queers"

And yeah, some of the acronyms do have multiple meanings from previous generations of texting lingo. However, again, that's just LANGUAGE!! Especially in the online world!

Hell, ASL and ASL exist. One is Age, Sex, Location? - a question often asked online about another person! And the other is American Sign Language.

And even for text lingo, you'd have so many overlaps!

FTW and FTW - one meaning For the Win, and the other Fuck the World.

Just...I don't know, I think I take all these little "jokes" so personally because I am one of those people who needs this accommodation. I don't expect everyone who interacts with me to use them, and I don't think we should expect everyone to use them - ESPECIALLY some of the more specific ones.

And yes, some people are fine with substitutes, such as saying "genuinely, please stop sending me photos of bugs. I'm not angry, I just don't want to see them" or even "he is my little bastard man (affectionate)" or whatever!

Just. I don't know. I'm just asking y'all to not make tone tags into the next "lol cringe autistics and their fail accommodations" thing. Even if you don't like it or need it.

[suspiciouslybluemilktea]

You told me to remind you to write Em teaching Uyu to flirt, but my memory span lately has been similar to one of a goldfish. So maybe if this stays in your asks you’ll see it when you get time? I think my brain reset this afternoon lol

Also my weakness is script writing so if I have a base I can use that later to draw the scene >:D I still want to try and design their casual clothes bc that’s fun. Also I’d imagine they’d have the lesson in city clothes? Ever since you wrote the draft I’ve been imagining them playing in the saloon when it’s closed

THANK YOU as I almost forgot I wanted to do this already as these days I too am at goldfish level. It’s also super fun to build of each other’s content and ideas ( ´ ∀ `)ノ～ ♡ and all the drawings you do make me cry tears of gold.

I also apologize for how messy this is as I’m trying not to overload ideas and am failing + I rewrote too many times TT. I’ll also totally admit all of my best edits got erased 1st time and I got too lazy to go back and re add all of that work. And I’ve been nitpicking with no direction——

Uyu- my cmc

Em- Mel’s cmc

This AU once again belongs to @marshmallowprotection , based on her Cowboy!Unknown fic “Cereus”! Here’s the link to go and check it out: Cereus

.♡♡♡.

Uyu was easy to perceive as shy and docile. On many fronts, she felt herself to be cowardly, always afraid of reaching for objects on higher shelves due to the possible “what ifs”. What if she’s simply not tall enough to grab what she desires? What if as she tries, she knocks over the object she wants? It took a lot of personal growth for her to start reminding herself not all “what ifs” in life are negative, but it’s not something that’s easy to wipe clean from the brain forever. It’s a deep conditioning that’s going to take time to shake.

Self confidence is a skill that she has to learn later in life than most of her peers, tossing away the stick she often beats herself down with. Even as someone with small acting experience back home, working up the courage to shine like a star never comes easy.

One thing she can say performance has taught her is that success tends to blossom under practice and familiarity. At first, it’s normal for most people to trip over their own heels, but sooner rather than later it becomes a flawless routine you can give your all without extra thought. With song and dance it’s easy to feel more alive than ever, all of your focus trained on hypnotizing your audience using what you already know like the back of your hand. On stage, there is no time for worries and “what ifs”, only the solid fact that the show must go on as you pretend to be something you’re not. It’s a transformation of the self under those bright lights and she’s always loved the feeling of playing pretend, now doing so in a new way that often tripped her up. The role of the sexy and confident desert flower was a big spin on reality really, but acting is simply that. Acting. A job is just a job, and today like any other, her role was to complete it.

As Em and Uyu’s getting ready process takes a bit longer than the other workers’, they usually started their mornings earlier to have enough time to get in full costume and clean up the stage. Together they swept the area to prepare to mop before changing for the day, as something as small as a random sticky patch could cause injury to a performer. This was simply their routine, as was the way they deviously twirled and span round on that stage to get you to empty your pockets. The longer you were here ogling the eye candy, the more inclined you were to order another cool and refreshing glass, and then another, and a another.

A tricky ploy it may be, but it was one that worked like a charm. It was their job to be on display in order to attract customers, and as professionals they each had their own ways of ensuring you left with a much lighter wallet. With Uyu’s set of pipes and the movements she followed taught to her by Zen, she eased the worries of each and every guest, so trained on her they let their guards slip for the idea of it being “party time”. And with them relaxed, Em could approach and flirt up a storm, encouraging them to drink up as she giggled and teased, asking how much alcohol “such a big guy” could really handle. And of course, they never forgot to leak out everyone’s secrets as well as their savings. Em especially was a natural at it, even with them “both” being new to the trade.

On the few and far between visits from their favorite outlaw as well as in those letters, Em took most of the charge when it came to collecting and delivering the goods. As the bolder desert lovely, she was able to squeeze her way into being at the bigger league’s tables, fake laughing it up as they ordered her drinks and Yoosung poured her colored water instead to trick them. Those poor fools paid full price for a drunken sleaze and instead only hydrated her for the same price as their beers, wondering how she was so good at holding her liquor. She saved her real thirst for her own stash of bottles she’d discreetly acquire during the shift.

Uyu’s lack of helpfulness with secret trading was something that bothered her, at times feeling a bit unable to prove her own usefulness. At first it was a matter of “will I be killed if I’m no use”, but now it’s morphed into the gut feeling that comes with being no good at your biggest assignment.

Unlike Em, when the guests at the tables coo at her and beckon her near, she froze before picking up her feet. Uyu felt lucky that her stage presence was advertised as coy and angelic, as it allowed herself to tie her nervousness into the act she had to put on. Her and Em were hyped up as the “devil and angel” type duo, but watching the way Em could even get their boss to blow steam out his ears on occasion made her wonder what it would be like to take on the role of Lucifer. It seemed fun in a way, knowing you had the power to wrap everyone in the room around your finger with Em’s devilish confidence. It’s what chipped away at her during today’s morning routine, still not yet dressed and ready for work. Uyu never stopped the motion of her broom on the upper stage as she bubbled out some of those thoughts to the other lady sweeping away behind her. Em was quick to respond to their conversation’s switch up.

“Let me explain this to you, since it looks like what you desire is a lesson in flirting.”

Em placed a gentle hand near Uyu’s rib cage, the other landing atop her shoulder. Long forgetting about their cleaning tasks for this more import matter, Em pressed right up against her pinker counterpart’s back, speaking in a quieter tone than earlier. Uyu stiffened in response to the physical contact.

“You see…you’ve actually got the foundation of this all wrong. You don’t need to be bold or sassy to sink your claws into everyone who is already tempted by you. You’ve already got a good thing going, you just need to make it better and pay attention to your surroundings.”

Uyu awkwardly twisted to look over her shoulder to make eye contact with her coworker, confused.

“But I don’t understand how to do that.”

“That’s the point ‘little hedge’, you just don’t get it.”

Em’s teasingly pouty expression made her partner scream internally, as did Em’s finger which was now drawing slow circles onto the pink fabric which clothed her stomach. Uyu tried not to sound panicked as she continued.

“So…can you help me to understand what you mean by that, then? Don’t keep me in the dark on this, elaborate please.”

Em chuckled, “Sugar wants to understand the art of manipulation better?”

“Uh- I mean…I guess that’s kind of what I’m asking for, isn’t it? What exactly do you think I should be doing better?”

“Well, if you really want to know-here’s what I think.” Em pulled back slightly to start playing with those long blond locks which belonged to the other performer. “To them, you’re innocence. To them, you’re a sleazy lady, but a lady none the less. Your appeal lies in the idea that those dirty fools can all strip those sweet titles from you with their grubby hands.”

Uyu gave a funny mix between a dramatic frown and grimace. “Ew.”

“Hah- but do you see how that ends up working out? On the other end of the spectrum is where I sit, so the pieces fit together like this. My appeal is that I’m their match, and yours is that you’re everything they’re not. This makes them hungry to taint you, while for me they’re worked up at the thought I’ll play ball with them. Get it? Tease them with that fact about you, but never let them have the satisfaction of blackening any of your white feathers. It’ll keep them coming like the idiots they all are, and as you pose no threat being a small female I see them all talking easy peasy~”

Uyu shuddered uncomfortably, “Ugh, that feels gross to play along with.”

“It’s just a performance remember? I thought you’d get that, and you’re definitely some kind of saint compared to them so it won’t be too hard if you get the guts. Think you could go gun down a man with that pistol you carry around right now?”

“No.”

“Yeah, or maybe go rob the local bank and load up on whatever is in their vaults? Or maybe catcall me or Zen?”

“No-”

“See? Everything they’re not around here and maybe then some.”

Em then released her, coming around to face her front. Her grin was mischievous.

“So go on then, see yourself as a shiny prize but don’t act high and mighty about it. Let’s practice. Pretend I’m an old fat bastard drooling over you here rather than spending time with my wife and kids. Get me to empty the money I should spend on feeding my family on beer, and get me to open my big mouth about how I actually am having a gay love affair with the sherif.”

“The sherif?!”

“Shhh, pretend!”

“Wait but if you’re gay, are you really all that interested in me? Or in your own wife for that matter-”

“You’re missing the point here- this dude just likes everyone ok? He’d even stick it in a cactus, and don’t comment on that either.”

“Right…Uhm ok-”

“So what’s your first move going to be with me after you finish a song?”

Uyu paused to ponder on that question before replying, mostly to use as breather due to the awkwardness of the situation. Her smiles were laced with anxiety.

“I’m going to seductively walk my way over to you… and then pretend I care about you specifically, despite the fact that I’ve got a hundred other customers to flirt with too and I’m being payed to do this.”

“Yes, now that sounds like the game we play! Make me feel like I’m the only person in the room. Trick me into thinking I’m a special somebody deserving of your attention. Go on and try it, sweetheart.”

Taking a few steps back until she reached the set piece chaise lounge, Em waited on Uyu for her next move. She sat with a wide man spread, putting on her thickest town accent she loved to poke fun, joking around some to set the scene and establish a character.

“Oh man! I’m so werked up, I’m tweakin' like em raccoons in the back of this establishment on trash day! It’s been a whole eighteen hours since I last screwed with someone, that being our finger lickin' good sheriff-”

Damn near loosing composure and the ability to seriously continue, Uyu pantomimed writing a letter. “I’ve heard every vital piece of information I needed without even working at it. Time to report this word for word back to the boss.”

And only after a few more giggles were exchanged did Em drop the accent, straightening herself up. Uyu cleared her throat and followed suit.

“Nerves shrunken up now? Don’t think I can’t see how stiff you are. I hope you realize just how foolish this game we play is overall as we practice for real this time. Give me all you’ve got, Uyu baby.”

Taking a deep breath while ignoring the flush which that nickname brought to her cheeks, she worked up the courage to try her idea for a plan of attack. She wanted to push her limits by playing a card usually off limits for her as she never liked to invite physical contact. “Do I have your permission to-”

“Don’t ask me for permission, just do it. If this were an actual client, you’d just have to stroll right up to him.”

“Right….Uhm- here goes nothing then?”

Sending all of her worries off on a train to a different part of her subconscious so that she could dismiss them best she could, Uyu tried her best to get into character. With the closing and then reopening of her eyes, coupled with a moment to breathe in, it was mission to go time. Like a sweet and slightly awkward lynx, she approached her current target with a walk Zen drilled into her head, hip movements exaggerated and her posture straighter than usual. It was nothing cartoonish, but seriously , no one really walked this way did they? It was hard not to feel ridiculous, but acting is all about silencing your screaming brain telling you you’re making a fool out of yourself for not following your normal social cues and patterns.

Next came the narrower doe eyes and the sweet batting of the lashes in Em’s direction, her gaze never leaving the lady’s which sat upon their set piece. She practiced this look in the mirror far too often to ensure she never came across as idiotic, but it was certainly difficult not to worry that right now she wasn’t nailing the expression as planned.

Uyu secretly wished to win some shock out of Em by pushing her own boundaries like this as she then plopped down in her lap, facing her sitting sideways by twisting. She reached out to toy with an outfit accent in the middle of Em’s chest, but drew back before having a chance to fiddle with the piece.

“Now now, bravery is the key here darling. Bring that hand back where you meant to place it.”

And with that command, Uyu listening, toying with the expensive brooch’s pearls. Em then placed a hand on one of her hips as if to either stabilize her in her position, or to add to her part in this production further.

“So, you prefer taking orders from others as opposed to listening to your own ideas, huh little floozy?”

Uyu pressed their chests together slightly, hoping the other could not feel the nervous and fearful drumming of her heart. And if she wasn’t so caught up in her act, she may have noticed the new shade that which adorned Em’s face.

“Well- I’m always worrying about our guests, you see. What if what I was about to do made you uncomfortable?”

She allowed her nerves to shine through as part of her character with a little spin on how she actually felt.

“Oh, I would have made it clear that I was uncomfortable starting when you took this seat. A pretty lady’s hands on me is always welcome.”

Uyu let out a fake giggle, “why thank you for the compliment. Glad to know I’m not a bother then~.”

“You a bother? Never. Those hands can wander wherever they like, although they might only end up making me a different kind of bothered.” Em then solidified her nasty joke with a wink.

Pretending this was a real situation, to neither offend nor instigate, Uyu played it off with more false laughter, as if she was amused rather than grossed out. She then allowed her arms to wrap around the back of Em’s neck as she snuggled closer, solidifying her place as the lap dog you enjoy attention from but pay no attention to.

It felt easier to slip into character with this scene partner as she could trust that they’d never beg for more than just a fun chitchat. Convincing scoundrels, highups and hooligans that you were attracted to them was a dangerous gamble, and you never knew which fool would come around and act entitled to more. Playing it off as goofing around with a friend made it easier to try, but would something like this really help rid her of the anxiety that came with dealing with a real client? The only real way to be sure was to keep the scene going.

“Do you feel confident enough to try this with a guest now?”

“Not really.”

[lordarsonizzzzt]

Dude,,, Gears realizing that he really likes the little colorful seam in his coat and complimenting Julian’s skills, then asking if he could possibly sew a few more colorful bits? Julian shrugs and says he’s always wanted to try embroidery, and he starts embroidering little lavender flowers into his coat. It’s a bit sloppy, being his first time doing embroidery, but Gears is enamored with it and compliments his skills, running his finger over the little bumps.

Julian smiles and says “you’re very pretty,” and Gears flushes.

“I, Uh. I meant the— the embroidery is pretty.”

“…i assumed so. If you ever want to practice your embroidery, doctor, feel free to take my coat.”

The next day, Charles finds his coat missing. Three days later, it’s returned with an embroidery of a snake. Charles asks him what it is, and Julian says it’s an ouroboros. When he asks why he chose that design, Julian responds;

“This guy was trying to figure out the chemical structure of benzene, and when he fell asleep, he saw a snake eating it’s own tail, and that inspired him to try to figure out the shape, a ring of carbon surrounded by hydrogen atoms. It’s… kind of what got me interested in chemistry, you know? That, and, uh, the Reanimator. The ourboros is, uh. It’s kind of like life, honestly. Just when you think you’re getting to the good part, it’s just more tail in your mouth.”

Charles glanced over to the pile of papers on Julian’s desk, all of them from other doctors.

“I’m sorry, Dr. Finn. You’re a smart man. If I can be frank; your talent is being wasted as my assistant. I wish they would show you the respect you deserve.”

Julian blinks, eyes wide and stunned. His face is bright red.

“…thank you, doctor,” he whispers. Gears nods, and gets back to work.

The next day, his coat is missing again. Six days later, there’s a garden of flowers lining the hem of the sleeves, where it once would’ve been plain. Gears studies it for hours, each loop of embroidery thread coming together to form a perfect scene. Julian wears a bandage on his thumb, probably from the needle, but it does nothing to detract from the beauty.

When he puts on the coat, it almost looks like his hands belong among such beautiful things.

-brainworms anon

Charles labcoat turning into Julian's canvas??? yes please

the top of his coat's pocket has some tiny mushroom, on the back of it, at the end he drew frogs and this little guy

[avrablake]

Nix

"It doesn’t really matter why you are here, because the result will end up the same. You’re going back empty handed."

right: my art | left

Wips: Beyond the Darkness | Nightshade

Age: 22

Physical Description:

5'6", a smaller build, well-toned muscles but not bulky, blue-black hair that hangs over his forehead in the front and is messy and uneven (he cuts it himself), almond shaped dark blue eyes, medium to dark olive skin tone, has one of those faces that looks grumpy even if he isn't trying to (rbf)

He wears clothes that are comfortable, sturdy, and practical: pants made of a sturdy fabric that are loose enough to move in comfortably and have lots of pockets, a comfortable t-shirt, a jacket made of sturdy fabric with lots of pockets, boots that are sturdy but still comfortable. He isn't one to care for fashion but does prefer to wear black.

He has a smallish scar on his jaw and several scars on his body, most notably a larger scar on is upper right shoulder near his neck. He also has a scar that runs through his Syndicate tattoo on his right bicep. (Still designing the tattoo itself, will post it when I do)

Abilities: Macro Telepath

Channelling: very high

Enhancement: physical strength and speed, can prevent deep wounds by "hardening" that part of his body with his channeling but it's hard to do in the moment so it's not something he relies on

Perception: Heightened senses—though he's not very good at it, doesn't use it often, Telepathy

About:

Nix is naturally inclined toward being a loner, mostly preferring to keep to himself and be allowed the freedom to do his own thing. He's also always had a defiant streak. He likes having autonomy and to not be tied to rigid expectations.

But at the same time he has spent a lot of his life isolated from other people, or as an outcast, so he has a craving for human connection. He wants to be chosen. He wants to be included. He wants to feel like he belongs. He wants someone to sit by him quietly and just be content with his presence.

He's really drawn to people like Kaori, Gram, and Kai—unreserved people who take him for what he is and don't hold back because of his flaws.

Which is important, because Nix is really hard on himself. As much as he craves human connection, he's also terrified of rejection. He tends to take a "I'm going to reject you before you reject me" approach to any potential relationship, and even struggles with his established relationships because he's always waiting for things to fall apart.

But he's also the type who, once he decided to be all in, is all in. He's extremely loyal and caring, though a bit awkward in expressing himself. He has a hard time expressing himself verbally. He often says the wrong things, or loses his temper and says things he doesn't mean, but he would do anything for someone he cares about.

He has a hard time sitting still. He likes to keep his hands busy and loves to tinker, even with no clear project goal in mind. It helps him clear his head and relax.

Excerpt:

“The rumors are true. He’s a monster.” The man on the roof trembled with fear as yet another of his comrades went down with the sickening sound of crunching bone. He aimed his rifle at Nix and fired, but the shot was easy to dodge—he was nowhere near as skilled a marksman as Gram. Nix dealt a final kick to the figure on the ground in front of him before turning toward the man on the roof. He frowned darkly while wiping a smear of blood from his cheek with the back of his hand. The man fired again but Nix didn’t need to dodge this time. In his panic, the man had hardly bothered to aim. He let out a cry and scrambled down the pile of rubble on the opposite side of the derelict building. Nix heaved a sigh and let the man go. Maybe his story would stave off anyone else foolish enough to come after him for the bounty. Unfortunately he knew any reprieve wouldn’t last long. Nix was used to being a target. He had been his whole life. Beating up assholes was as second nature to him as breathing; it didn’t matter if they were Military, Syndicate, or just idiots who didn’t know better. These weren’t the first bounty hunters to come after him, and they wouldn’t be the last. But lately their groups had been growing larger. He vastly preferred fighting one-on-one or even smaller groups. He’d fought large groups often enough to know that keeping track of so many thoughts would leave him with a headache for at least a full day. It didn’t help that the bounty hunters always seemed to choose Market Day.

-

Nix Playlist

Bonus Nix and Kaori Playlist

[eyesteeth]

tsv x ns but my tunnel vision is the same as ever

carpenter

familar is a big ol gray newfoundland named loam

magic color is gray. this leads many people to believe she is magicless, especially because loam only talks when in trusted company and is therefore assumed to be Just A Dog

people within the parish know that she’s extremely magically skilled however and she has a reputation for being a beast in combat

knows Instantly that faulkner’s faking his magic but isn’t going to call him out on it for Reasons

faulkner

familiar is a fish named bubbles

magic color is blue

THAT’S A LIE!! he is actually magicless and the fish is Just A Fish. as mr robin has said time and time again fish cannot be familiars. faulkner has a blue contact lens over his brown eye to match the fish, but the coloration isn’t the same if you look close enough. this is my au i’m keeping my design headcanons for these guys

some fucking how he has managed to flail himself upward into his current position and is put in the care of the far more competent carpenter, at which point he instantly starts trying to scheme

the mission theyre on is trying to find a particularly powerful husk for Their Purposes. however eventually they come to the discovery that what they’re seeking is actually a way to make husks and not a husk itself. neither of them like this and it runs close to tsv canon in this regard.

honestly this is pretty close to canon tsv except:

color coded magic system. and i love magic systems

faulkner trying Really Hard not to husk out (in ns canon non-magicians turn into husks if they become extremely emotionally unstable in a time of high stress so most of season 3 would be him trying not to turn into a beastie)

familiar stuff. yeah your sister says she hates you but also the dog that’s part of her soul has come over to you and put its head in your lap. you hold it close and her posture relaxes across the room. you don’t need to say anything. you both know.

(for context, if faulkner did get his magic in, his familiar would be a ginger domestic shorthair cat, and therefore him husked out would have him as a catboy. a traumatized, murderous catboy)

most saints would be husks in this.

charity, some kind of hunting dog saint. pink. follows canon pretty closely there

i think it’d be very ironic if the radio man’s familiar was a sloth so let’s go with that. dark blue. it’s 1am i can’t remember his name i’m a fake fan :pensive:

val, crane. she’s a crane to me idk why. red.

anyway. the other main characters. this post was not done in order lol i’m doing most this shit off the dome

paige: dove familiar named olive. magic color’s either a nice light blue or green. her whole prophet thing could mean she husks out in this au and just chills at tier one because she has the money to afford the gems to stabilize while other people who go husk (cough faulkner cough) are not financially stable enough to. i’m going with that. i’m not joking when i say i’m doing most of this off the cuff lol

hayward: basset hound familiar named columbo. magic color is a deep brown. one of the less respected guard members who does his best. once corruption is revealed in the heart of the administration, he is grabbed by a dove husk (paige) he is sent to kill and runs close to canon that way

shrue: shrew familiar named cashew. cmon. magic color is an uneasy orange. an overworked member of the administration who rose the ranks with the intention of undoing harm, but is instead walked over and talked over and makes very little change

gage & mercer: it’s canon that twins will have the same kind of familiar, so they both have deer - but only one has antlers. they never make it clear which familiar belongs to who. i have no clue what their magic color would be but theyd be slightly different hues off each other. they hunt husks, but they seem to like it a little too much, and they like to wear the remains of their hunts.

that’s all lol