#quite frankly I should probably be paying THEM at this point

[take-taker-taken]

Because sometimes, Taker circa 1998 just needs some head canon… I mean, it *might* make him at least pay rent to be in my head, right?

————

You’re minding your business when he comes and stands behind the couch

Lowers a piece of paper in front of your face

“What’s this little girl?”

Your heart stops. It’s that list you found online and printed out.

And then completed it.

You’ve been wanting to tell him for ages about the things you’re wanting to try in the bedroom.

Trouble is, he’s such a perfect gentleman that you know he’d never agree to it.

Slapping, spanking you, name calling and more.

Despite his work persona, that kind of behaviour just isn’t him.

So you’ve kept it as a fantasy.

You turn a deep shade of red as you realise he’ll have read the list.

He sits down on the couch next to you.

“You like this sort of thing, little girl?”

You draw your knees up to your chin - yup, he thinks you’re a pervert.

He nudges you. “Well?”

You mumble into your knees; something about being curious.

“Why didn’t you just come to me?”

“Because you think it’s weird,” you mutter.

He reaches over and takes hold of your chin, forcing you to look at him.

“Did I say that, little girl?”

You shake your head ‘no’ and actually meet his eyes.

He doesn’t look disgusted.

He indicates the list. “You want to try some of this?”

You stare at him.

“Only if you want to. I don’t want you to be weirded out.”

He laughs. Actually laughs.

“Little girl, I’ve been around the block.”

You stare some more and then say what’s bothering you.

“But I don’t want to force you. That kind of stuff… it’s not you.”

He slips his arm around you.

“What makes you think that I wouldn’t enjoy it? Little girl, with your consent I would have zero problem with paddling your ass red and then tying you down to fuck you raw. Among other things.”

Your blush renews fiercely and your stomach flips at his turn of phrase.

“You’ve never said…” You say quietly.

It’s his turn to shift uncomfortably.

“Well, I guess we’re both guilty of keeping secrets. Same as you, little girl - I wouldn’t ever want to make you feel… weird.”

He turns his attention back to the list.

“Using titles, huh?”

You nod and blush some more, burying your face in your drawn-up knees.

His hand shifts from your back and slides into your hair, taking a handful in his fist. Not overly hard, but certainly firm and he uses the hold to lift your head up again.

Hair-pulling is something else that you’d ticked on the list.

“When we do this, you’ll call me ‘sir’”.

His voice is low and serious and that’s when you realise that he’s not kidding - he’s got some experience with this.

Your stomach flips again and you make a tiny noise of assent.

Wait - he said ‘when we do this’!

He lets go of your hair and cuddles you to him, pulling you in close so you can look at the list together.

He points to the section headed, ‘Impact Play’.

“You’ve ticked pretty much everything here, little girl.”

Embarrassed, you turn your head in towards his shoulder.

“Curious,” you mumble again.

“Ohhh, that’ll be fun,” he mutters and curiosity peaked, you look back at the paper but he doesn’t elaborate.

“How much of this have you already done?”

He kisses the top of your head. “I’ve done plenty.”

“Given or received?”

He turns and looks at you. “Which d’you think?”

“OK, silly question.”

[vdragon-creations]

TMayNT Day 13: Best Don

Day 13 of @tmaynt Prompt: Best Don!

Oh my sweet, how I've waited for this day! It should probably come as no surprise to anyone who fallows me or anyone who saw my Day 1 entry that Donnie is my favorite turtle! Hands down, no contest!

But here comes the hard part. Choosing my favorite! Gunna be honest, it's a very hard decision. Each Donnie has a quality to them that I just adore! Intelligence! I don't like to think of myself as that smart, at least not in the way Donnie is! And I love me some soft nerdy types! And when it comes to personality, it gets even harder to pick, because literally ALL of them are just precious.

87 is smart but a bit of a dork! 2003 is...goals. Sweet, kind, has a tiny bit of spice to him, and still has the skills to pay the bills! 2007, while not having much screen time, is a reliable man.

IDW, tbh, I've yet to read the comics in full, but from what I can see, he seems a lot like a mix of both 2003, 2007, and 87 Don. As in, while he's a little more softspoken then the others, he can still hold his own in a fight! And despite having been through some clearly otherworldly shit, he's a skeptic when it comes to magic. But I love the way they wrote him! (And his death scene still makes me cry! And seeing him still deal with pain from that incident is just *Chef's kiss*!)

2012....well...I don't have much to say about him. Frankly he's my least favorite out of the bunch, and all because the writers really wanted to play fanfic writer and they leaned whyyyyy too hard into the nerd stereotype. Resulting in making him borderline creepy to April. (Not that she's perfect either because goddess on a stick I'm not getting into that today.) The one thing I'll give him is that his sarcasm in this one made his very funny to hear in banter, and I apricate that they were trying to do more then just change the skin colors to make the boys stand out from one another. (But guys...really....the gap in the teeth was just not necessary..)

The Bayverse Donnie was one that had to grow on me a little, cause I'm part of the crowed that thought they looked a bit rough. But I agree that that's kinda the point, they're mutants. They more then likely would be a little rough looking irl. But after aa bit, he does start looking pretty cute anyway! And his voice is on par with 2003, in that he just sounds so sweet! I wanna hug him! (PLUS, THE FUCKER IS 6'8"! I'M 5'3"! And I do have a weakness for taller dudes. Bonus if they wear glasses! :3)

Now, for Rise. I was once part of the Cowaboomer crowed that thought that since RISE was so different from the other versions, it was there for ruined. I've since watched it, and the movie, and if anything, I've proven that I no longer think this way! RISE Donnie tho...he had to grow on me. At first I really didn't like him. His personality was such a stark contrast from all the other versions that it was almost like he was a whole new character! And with the art style of RISE being so different, his design was quite a jolt too. (The eyebrows are...a choice.) But after a while, that smug fucking smile had me feeling a type of way. The way he'd make me laugh was starting to become infectious! And the next thing I knew, I fell for this version too! Pretty hard I might say. And while 2003 Donnie is the sweetest bean to ever grace my screen, RISE became the living definition of the meme "I'm a luxury few can afford!"! And I love him!

After that, we had the batman cross over that brought us another Donnie! Once that I'm happy didn't lean too heavy on the other versions. He looked a little like 2012, but was like a gentle mix or 2003 and Bayverse! He also got a lot more lines and personality in that movie! (As well as a broken arm! RIP)

Then Mutant Mayhem showed up, and oh my god if he isn't the same insufferable anime fan I was when I was a teen! He made me laugh, and was still an adorable little dork!

And then we have Fortnite Donnie, who...i gotta be honest, I don't play Fortnite. So I'm not sure if he or the others get much of a personality or story outside of the same story of the turtles that we all know by now. So i can't judge him based on personality. But...I do like his design. Tho I will continue to say Fortnite had NO RIGHT to make him THAT damn fine!

In the end, I love all Donnies! Some more then others, but they all mean something to me! And it was hard to choose! but in the end, I chose the two that had the most influence on me!

[hopelesslyromanticgay]

Lemonade — Vada Cavell

When I was seven years old, my friend , Vada and I started a lemonade stand.  Ever since then, she and I have been inseparable.

It was a hot summer week, and quite frankly, we had nothing to do. Her mom had just gotten back from the store and asked us to unpack the groceries. Neither of us wanted to, but like I said earlier, we had nothing else to do.

"Oh my goddd the weather is killing me!" I complained, putting the milk carton in the fridge. She nodded in agreement.

"Look!" she squealed, "lemons!" She takes out a huge bag of lemons.

"That's a lot of lemons, V," I laughed.

"Buy tuh-woo, get three free," she desperately tried to read the label.

"You mean buy two get three free?" I tried to raise an eyebrow.

"Whatever," she rolled her eyes, "we should make lemonade!"

I got out her mom's fancy pitcher and a knife, and miraculously didn't get cut while slicing the lemons. Less miraculously, the juicing of the lemons on multiple occasions stung our eyes.

"Okay, we gotta add lots of sugar," Vada told me, tasting the pure lemon juice. Her face puckered up in a way that even then I knew was not good.

"I love sugar!" I smiled, pouring an unhealthy portion of sugar in.

By the end of the afternoon, we made one dollar an seventeen cents with our one sale to the boy, Nick, down the street. 

"We should go buy candy!" Vada's eyes lit up.

"Ooh! M&M's! And jolly ranchers! And gummies!"

That was also the day we learned that there's not much you can but for $1.17.

It was a devastating day.

Twelve years later...

"Hi Vada," I exclaim, running up to the shorter brunette, giving her an obligatory head pat before enveloping her in a hug.

"Hi!" she smiles widely. I love her smile so much.

"What do you wanna do today?" I ask.

"What's there to do?" she replies. We end up lying down on her trampoline for at least an hour, scrolling through TikTok's together.

"What is it with the Lana Del Rey, will you serve me Lemonade trend?" Vada says, confused.

"No idea," I confess, "but it's fun to see celebrity glow ups showcased by it."

"No, totally," she laughs, "You've totally gotten a glow up."

"No, you're literally hotter than the sun, shut up Vada!" Vada's definitely the prettiest girl I know. Everything about her is so flawlessly beautiful. She could literally wear the silliest most random outfit she found at the bottom of her closet and pull it off perfectly.

"You shut up!" 

We sit in silence for a moment, then an idea pops into my head.

"Let's make lemonade!" I decide. Vada shoots up excitedly, "yes please! Anything other than TikTok's!"

"I agree."

We set off to work, making (much better) lemonade than we made last time.

"Okay, first of all, your mom has a lemon juicing thingy now, which feels over the top fancy, but we should probably use it," I tell her.

"It's literally a thingy you put lemons on and twists them, that's not fancy!"

"Whatever, let's use it!"

We slice up the lemons and begin to juice them.

"Damn, if this is what giving handjobs to guys is like, I do not want to date guys. Honestly, not really into that even before this. Like honestly, they're not doing it for me," she rambles. Her rambles are the cutest thing. If you don't interrupt her, she can go one for hours about conspiracy theories, shows, books, songs. It's one of the many things I love about her.

"Vada, you're literally gay, you don't have to worry about handjobs."

"No you're literally gay!" she points a finger at me. I pretend to take offense, slapping a hand over my heart. Joking around with her is the highlight of any day.

"We're both gay, now work on the water to sugar to lemon ratio," I decide.

"Why are you turning lemonade into mathhhhh," she complains.

"Just work on it!" I exclaim.

"Anything for you, my dear," she winks at me.

We finally finish the lemonade after fifteen minutes of bickering. I'm excited to try it, honestly. I haven't had good lemonade in years.

"Will you give me some?" she asks, noticing I've poured myself a glass.

"Pay Up!" I laugh.

"Is $1.17 enough?" she asks innocently.

"Why, you got that much?"

"The exact same coins," she confesses. I blush at the fact that she's kept coins from twelve years ago that we earned selling lemonade this whole time. I've never seen her as the sentimental type

"Damn, I must have meant a lot to you," I tease her.

"Not as much as you mean to me now," she takes a step closer to me, booping my nose.

"Oh yeah," I say, "and how much is that?"

She smirks, taking the lemonade out of my hand and setting it down on the counter.

"Enough to do this," she cups my cheeks and stands on the tips of her toes to brush her soft lips against mine. I hate to sound like a stereotype, but I swear I can feel fireworks go off in my stomach. My arms wrap themselves around her waist before finding their way to her hips and gently pulling her closer. She tastes like lemons and sugar(unsurprisingly considering we're making lemonade). Such a perfect taste for such a hot day. I could get used to this. It's hard not to crave more and more.

It's funny that just a few nights ago we were making fun of couples on TV who were like this, and yet now we're completely totally a cliche.

"Sorry if I read that wrong," Vada apologizes after pulling away.

"You're not reading it wrong, don't worry," I reassure her, kissing her lips again.

[dnangelic]

Does Daisuke have a preference in sports or physical activity beyond his usual phantom thief shenanigans? Does Dark enjoy anything similar?

@remunporium

hmmm! i can give a few different forms of answers to this so let me start by saying in any sort of school / public setting daisuke usually tries to hide his physical capabilities as a phantom thief. there are things like his grades in PE being poor or himself landing really nasty falls when he could easily save himself because he's always trying so hard to not look conspicuous, but he also gets caught up in things like being picked for active roles in school stageplays/performances that requires stunts anyways, so he "flubs" up practice nonstop then does perfectly fine during the real thing.

these are just examples of him sucking on purpose though (and sometimes he really does suck on clumsy accident, like not paying attention and falling flat on his face, or falling flat on his face because he's stealing someone's wallet back from a pickpocket,) obviously he's got stellar acrobatic capabilities overall and has a surprising amount of strength for someone with his build, (this post covers it well, really, nobody's allowed to forget daisuke climbed an entire ferris wheel with his bare hands lmao) but if it's an actual sport you want to see him enjoying, then he's probably going to pick swimming.

group oriented activities generally stress him out, and frankly he'd probably stress out any group he was with too - he's got that sad, awkward 'last kid picked for PE' energy and always does all his heists alone!! this rules out 99% of sports for him. swimming does away with all of that group necessity, and he's canonically a good swimmer too- has to be since his parents trained him for anything. (even though thanks to transforming and wiz trying to cover for him, everybody at his school thinks he almost drowned one time.)

most of daisuke's physical 'skills' he feels only should apply to his 'work,' so on top of the social anxiety ruling out, the range of things he enjoys doing alone is left extremely small - and really, if he actually has that much freetime and is feeling restless, (daisuke is almost always sleep deprived, he should be asleep, just like me fr) then he's probably going to be flying, which is also dark's preference outside of pulling a heist.

dark needs the thrill of pursuit on occasion, but on others he and/or daisuke just want to cruise. azumano is beautiful, and it's even more beautiful from above, so as the freaks(singular) with wings they'll just go for a nighttime flight in the sky, sometimes heading over to tokyo since that's where a lot of daisuke's friends (as in, my muts' muses,) are, and it's supposed to be close by. (azumano is a fictional province, but it's imagined around east japan, not too north or south.) otherwise, dark has even less interest than daisuke in actively participating in sports or anything; he's never gotten to try anything in the past and he doesn't expect himself to ever be able to anytime soon, so it's a moot point for him.

he's still, of course, very flashy and plainly skillful anytime he does manage to get his hands on something to mess around with - for example, hand him a basketball and he can keep it spinning on a single finger without any trouble, he can juggle quite literally anything, and he had no issue twirling a glass shoe around on his finger for fun while he chat with someone else in one of the light novels or catching arrows with his bare hands or dodging piano strings laced up in some woods purely by ear. dancing, forms of it like ballroom, waltz and tango would be something he could deeply enjoy --- but those require a partner, and that loops back to him not usually having the freedom to pursue any of that.

that's about it, i think. dark n daisuke's jock alignments are very very low LOL but that's because their heists nearly kill them all the time and push their physical capabilities to the extreme! if it's not the usual phantom thief shenanigans then this boy should be in bed, but sometimes you'll see him in the sky anyways because what's the point of bearing the burden of black wings if you can't indulge in the occasional gift and itch of flight. 🦅

[nixii-sabre]

6 for the oc ask thing

Actually fucking marry me for sending an ask for the oc ask thing but anyways

6. Who will they take advice from, no matter what it is? Who won’t they take advice from, no matter what it is?

No specification on which OC so like., I guess Ill go through all of them because this is an interesting question

(Big answer under cut)

Rainworld OC's

Endless - Endless will always, ALWAYS take advice from Chime. The only time he didn't was during their argument. He's especially reinforced the idea of listening to Chime now that they're together <3., He also won't take advice from... A lot of people, however probably Belief is the main person he will not take even friendly advice from

Koi - Will always take advice from her ancients. In comparison to her combative and competitive behaviors toward other iterators, she oddly listens to her colony. She's never talked about the matter, but its most likely due to knowing what happened to her brother when *he* didn't pay attention. It's a main reason she worries for him and tries to protect him, even nowadays.

Niche - Niche will always take advice from Cookie. Specifically cookie. She'll rarely every pay attention to her scavengers as she believes they have nothing good to say, but she has a soft spot for cookie- and sometimes she has a point. Also, Niche will never, *NEVER* take advice from iterators or ancients who have been apart of a taboo matter (i.e sliverist group chats/conspiracies, self destruct sequences, breaking the torture method, etc).

Those are all the important RW oc's of mine lmaoo. One Last Chime [OLC] belongs to @chaoticgoober as always.

Downfall

Oh boy. Oh boy. I have.. Wayy too many downfall characters to go over this, so Ill just go over with it for a handful.

Noah - Noah by beloved <3 I love him so much ^^ Anyway. After years of living with them, noah's pretty much learnt to take any and all advice from The Watcher. Considering they're a godlike being. The only type of advice they wont take and instead will *give* Watcher is emotional advice. also I think this was already a given but noah will not take advice from Kevin. not. not that kevin would give any advice.

Sludge - Sludge will take advice from everyone, however he'll always listen to his grandmother <3 He doesn't have a particular someone he won't want advice from (unless you count his father who he wants nothing to do with).

Kevin - Will take advice from Divala, will not take advice from Noah

Aqua - Awa will take advice for ANYTHING from ANYONE. Genuinely. He is extremely tentative and will listen and do whatever you say.

Nightshade - Will take advice from Dayna always. Will not take advice from Cindy. He doesn't care that they're siblings, he does not trust her. she threw a lizard at him

Si`le - Will take advice from Cupid. They're the bestest of friends <3 Will NOT take advice from the other sins. Quite frankly they can go fuck themselves in his opinion.

(Dayna belongs to @littleauralite)

Lethal Company

:3

Harvey - Harvey will forever and always take advice from Baron. He likes his short chubby friend much more than he'd like to admit. He will not take advice from Theo, even if it's advice like 'hey I don't think you should go in there I think I saw a bracken' because he will just blatantly ignore him

Baron - Same thing, will always listen to Harves <3 Won't not listen to advice from anyone he's good with whatever

Elle - You don't listen to anybody, do you?

Theo - Will always, always take advice from Elle. He knows damn well she knows what she's talking about. This is especially useful when *he* doesn't know what the fuck he's doing. N/A on the second part

Cheerio - N/A, I think this is pretty clear

Ye., these characters are from a rp thang I'm doing with @xenomorphicdna , @bongocongocaveman , @leastactivejester (soon), and my friend chickenboi

Ooops., i rambled sowwy

[mguvmii]

Hello dear, can I ruquest some draken fluff/angst. Like he had a best friend since birth even before mikey and he always loved her but couldn't confess because he thought she is in love with mitsuya. But when draken got stapped she is there and tells hum that he can't die because she loves her. Something like that if that's okay?

Anyways please don't forget to stay hydrated love <3

Almost too late ; Draken

note; hello anon! Thanks for the request and for the reminder ! I hope you enjoy this one <3

𝗴𝗲𝗻𝗿𝗲: angst with a happy ending

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀: near death , swearing , Draken being an idiot

-; ｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈•ﾟ｡

It was always her , for as long as he could remember. Since he was born, there was nothing else he had known except that he had his best friend with him always. Even before Mikey came along and got him into this lifestyle, Y/n came first.

They did everything together , all of their firsts being with each other. He taught Y/n how to defend herself , how to ride a bike , how to tie her shoes. She was always there , grinning up at him while babbling on about something in her life.

He didn't mean to fall in love with her. That wasn't his intention , not wanting to see anything past a best friend , but it happened. This was the first time he was experiencing what genuine romantic love for another person felt like, and quite frankly it scared him.

He didn't know what to do , or how he should act around her now. Did he tell her? Avoid hanging out with her? There was no way he'd do such a thing. He could never bring himself to avoid her or tell her. She deserved a better person , someone who wasn't wrapped up in this gang shit.

Was it selfish of him to NOT want her to find someone else but him? Probably, not that he cared.

"you should introduce me to your friends," she spoke , opening up her bottled water. The two were sitting on the curb by a grocery store , eating snacks and just hanging out like they always do. They were practically joined at the hip , when he wasn't with Mikey.

An unsettling feeling stirred within him at her request. The whole point was to keep her out of gang stuff , and if that meant not letting her meet his friends , then so be it.

But he could never deny her. She was unaware of how she had him wrapped around her finger , from just a smile.

"they're loud and obnoxious. You wouldn't want to," he replied. "Especially Mikey. It's like having a kid cling onto you."

Y/n giggled in response, the sound distracting the taller boy for a moment. "I'm good with kids. Besides , you never tell me anything about your gang stuff. Can't I at least meet them? Just once?"

He should have come up with another excuse, anything to prevent her from paying attention to his other friends, yet he didn't. He just couldn't say no to her.

It was pathetic really.

"fine."

The first big mistake he regretted. He should have said no. The introductions were fine , seeing that everyone loved her almost immediately. Of course , Mikey whined in his ear about how it wasn't fair she had the best friend title first, but he liked her too.

Happiness is what he should've felt seeing her get along with his other friends. It was bitterness that ensued , especially when Mitsuya showed up. It didn't take a genius to see how her smile grew when Mitsuya talked with her. Draken could see it clear as day. She had taken a liking to the boy.

He didn't like that. If only he could see past his selfishness of wanting her to be his to know that Mitsuya was honestly the best choice for her. He was kind , creative , good with kids and knew how to express how he felt.

Complete opposite of him. It only got worst from there. Their hangouts were happening less, to his disappointment.

"Mitsuya asked me to help babysit his sister's , sorry ken."

"Mitsuya's taking me shopping and teaching me to make clothes."

It was always Mitsuya this , Mitsuya that. Draken had a feeling she was falling for him , and THAT hurt. He didn't express it , but he was overwhelmed at the idea of his best friend replacing him and falling in love with his friend.

She was happy though , at least to him. They still hung out more than he thought and talked in that familiar way with each other. He may not have won her heart , but he still had his best friend.

It hurt to know that he had to let her go, for her sake. Pushing down the feelings he had for the girl , he watched hopelessly as she got closer to Mitsuya.

If he didn't have a chance to tell her how he felt , he REALLY didn't now. That was his second biggest mistake and regret.

He'd never get to tell her he was in love with her now, not when he got wrapped up in an ambush from another gang , being stabbed in the process. It was so quick , blurring all together like a mirage. He felt the knife , and the next , his vision growing hazy with the rain and blood loss.

He didn't want to leave her , not like this. By dying on her , he was taking the chance of her keeping him with her away. But then he realized she had Mitsuya to take care of her , so he stopped trying as hard to stay awake.

He SWORE he was hallucinating , hearing the patter of feet running towards him , HER voice shouting at him in a mix of panic and fear. He barely felt the girl pulling him into her lap , hugging onto him like he was her lifeline.

In the midst of the rain and the ringing in his ear , he could still hear her , crying. She was actually crying and sobbing , begging him to stay with her. He felt her body shaking in sorrow.

"Please ken....please don't leave me. You can't leave me! I need you I want you , just stay with me," she sobbed, caressing his cheek with her cold hand. He saw the way she looked at him. He'd never seen her so broken until now.

"don't leave me....I love you. Don't you understand, I LOVE you. That's why you need to stay with me so I can tell you properly."

A love confession. Despite losing a lot of blood , his heart patterned in joy and relief when he heard her say those three words to him. All this time he thought she loved Mitsuya, only to realize it was him.

"Y/n," He managed to get out. The paramedics swept him away from her arms and onto a stretcher before he could tell her he loved her back. He couldn't die , not now, not when there was a chance of actually calling the girl he loves his girlfriend. He had to survive for both of their sake.

-; ｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈•ﾟ｡

The sound of steady beeping stirred him awake , along with the smell of antiseptic. Bright lights nearly blinded him. He forced his eyes to open and stare at the ceiling that was above him.

He felt awful, not in pain, but awful.

"ken."

Her voice brought him to an aware state. He found himself turning towards her, and his eyes softened. It was his fault she was now crying by his bedside, because he was reckless.

A sob spilled from her lips and she stood up , throwing herself over him in a desperate hug. He could only wrap his arms around her shaking figure and sigh.

"I'm okay Y/n."

"you idiot!" She exclaimed , pulling away to glare at him. "Don't you ever scare me like that again you hear me? I thought you were going to die!"

He stayed quiet , allowing her to yell at him. She was just terrified and relieved he was okay. He felt touched that she cared so much , that she loved him enough to give him a scolding.

When it dwindled down to sniffling and quietness , Draken pulled her down on top of him , being careful of his bandaged torso. He caressed her hair and back gingerly , hoping she could feel the love he felt for her.

"I promise not to give you another scare..."

"you better not," she replied. "The last thing I want is for you to die before we go on a date."

Despite the state he was in, Draken smiled , his heart doing that thing in his chest.

"A date huh? Thought you had a thing for Mitsuya?"

Y/n frowned , pulling away from him. She wiped her eyes and shook her head.

"you really are an idiot ken. Mitsuya is like a brother to me. I love you."

He'd never get tired of hearing it, coming from her. With a little effort, he pushed himself to sit up , ignoring the burning in his side and the glare his girl was giving him.

"Ken are you craz-"

Her words were cut off as Draken pulled her into a well needed kiss by the back of her neck. He felt her melt into him , her fingers cupping his face to hold him there. It was as if their lips were made for each other , molding perfectly together in an embrace.

Though he didn't want to , he had to separate given that he needed to breathe. He'll allow himself to be vulnerable , just for this moment.

"I love you."

It felt good to say it out loud finally , knowing the feeling was reciprocated , knowing that she loved him and no one else.

The smile on her face was like a reward , her cheeks flushed with pink as she shyly glanced away.

"I love you too Ken."

It all worked out in the end.

[ask-court-genshin]

"..."

There was one thing that they would desire, and that was to survive. Considering Lumine had given them life from being an Oceanid, they had a thought that there would be a price to pay.

With the stakes at hand, they knew opposing her isn't a good idea. Gathering information to where her brother could be, however... is one of the biggest factors they must consider.

After being briefed on what to do and the risks if they should fail, they turned their head to the blonde, their yellow eyes narrowed.

"So, miss Lumine," they spoke, turning their head before facing the female outlander more properly.

"I need to ask, but is there a deadline I must keep an eye on? I can't stay complacent without knowing the stakes, since you're the one who holds my life in your hands. Quite literally, might I add."

They gestured to her, giving her a wry smile.

"Also, where should I find you? If, well, I'm in need of some help... or maybe to consult to you when I do accomplish my goal. Don't tell me you don't have a plan to our meet up, hm?"

Maybe this will help ones like me... or maybe not. All I can hope for is to survive.

«Lumine: +20 POINTS»

Lumine seemed to have appreciated your enthusiasm to help whereas Sy made garbled and sad squirming noises.

Lumine: You do know who Kokomi is, right? You're a hydro eidolon after all. If you're ever in a tough spot, she'd likely give you sound tactics to help out.

Lumine: If Kokomi cannot solve your problem, then I'll decide to step in.

Quite frankly, you do not know who "Kokomi" is, but the knowledge counts for something. Probably.

Lumine: You've got quite the attitude. I do not "meet up" with anyone without an appointment. Meeting me should be a last resort. So do not smile so recklessly in my direction.

Lumine opens up a portal.

Lumine: Now tell me, which place do you want to go? Do you wish to head to Murmure Court post-haste? Do you wish to land on Mount Sumeru? The Heavenly Moon? The Free City? The choice is yours.

Current route: Common Route (Tip: Fill up any of the LI's meter to start a route)

Lumine status: 20/100

New game

[longitudinalwaveme]

So ummm… do you think you can do the other Rogue’s personality and fighting style?

You have done Golden Glider or the Original Trickster ( James Jesse). I’m having a bit of trouble with writing them. So I’d thought maybe I should do some practicing by doing a few short stories. Fixing anything I get wrong as I go along.😅

Sure!

Golden Glider (Lisa Snart): The Golden Glider, alias Lisa Snart, is somewhat difficult to explain insofar as her character has changed rather significantly over time. Lisa was originally very hard-edged and quite scary; more recent writers tend to make her a lot softer and nicer than she ever was under her creator, Cary Bates (who is, for my money, still the best Golden Glider writer to date, even though the last major story he wrote for her was published in the 1980s).

Lisa is, of course, the younger sister of Leonard Snart (alias Captain Cold). She appears to be about five to seven years younger than he is, and they shared the same rough upbringing under their violent alcoholic father. The two of them were extremely close as children and still have a fair amount of affection for one another as adults (one of the few modern additions to Lisa's character that I do like), but their relationship has become somewhat strained due to a variety of situational factors, including the fact that Leonard left Lisa behind with their father when he ran away from home (as he'd already started hanging out with a crowd he thought would be dangerous for her). Despite this, and her father's abuse, Lisa managed to become am Olympic-level figure skater. She toured the country with the Futura Ice Skating company and seemed to be very successful.

However, she was still connected to the underworld, and to the Rogues, through her devoted long-term boyfriend: Roscoe Dillon, better known as The Top. The comics don't go into great detail regarding how they met, but he somehow became her personal, private figure-skating coach (he taught her how to spin in ways not possible outside of comic books) and from that they became a very devoted couple. Roscoe actually followed her around the country in disguise and attended many of her skating performances. There's no indication that he ever involved Lisa in his life of crime before his death, which occurred as the result of the Flash's super speed clashing with his newly-acquired mental powers and giving him brain damage. Though Flash (specifically, Barry Allen) hadn't meant to kill Roscoe, he had inadvertently caused his death, and Lisa swore revenge, becoming the Golden Glider in order to punish the Flash for killing her lover. This fact is probably the single most important key to understanding the Golden Glider.

The Golden Glider is, quite frankly, one of the most formidable villains Flash has ever faced. She's intelligent, driven, determined, and utterly ruthless in her pursuit of revenge on the man she blames for the death of her lover. In her attempts to gain her revenge on Barry, she targeted his wife, Iris, and his parents, Nora and Henry Allen (this was before the backstory retcon that had Nora murdered by Reverse-Flash when Barry was a kid), and she was also able to deduce Barry's true identity, making her the first of the Rogues to pull off this hat trick. In her first appearance, Barry actually went so far as to compare her to "Batman--the avenger!", and the description is quite apt. Golden Glider is absolutely brilliant, and she's completely single-minded in her quest to make Barry Allen pay for the wrongs she believes he has done her. She was more than willing to allow Barry to kill her in order to obtain her revenge, and she at no point shows any fear of anyone. In her mind, she has nothing left to lose, and that makes her extremely dangerous. Lisa is not nice, and she is not in any way soft. When angered, she is cruel, vindictive, and cold-blooded, and this is what many modern writers seem to get wrong about her.

That being said, she does have a softer side. As mentioned, she is absolutely devoted to Roscoe, her boyfriend, and the two of them have a shockingly healthy and happy relationship (given that both of them are rather unstable supervillains). The two of them dote on each other and have a completely equal partnership, and neither of them ever expresses any doubt as to the loyalty and faithfulness of the other. Further, Lisa is generally fairly polite and friendly to those who don't provoke her wrath---notably, she was very fond of Wally West in spite of his relationship to Barry Allen. When Barry died, so did her hatred of the Flash, and the two of them actually worked quite well together on more than one occasion. And, of course, later writers (especially Geoff Johns) have made her close to her older brother Leonard as well.

Leonard and Lisa's relationship is, however, complicated by a few factors. Aside from his abandonment of her as a girl (which he clearly harbors a ton of guilt over), Leonard has mixed feelings about Lisa being a part of the Rogues. He doesn't really seem to want her involved in a life of crime (notably, in her very first appearance he tried to dissuade her from becoming a criminal), and on some level he also was reluctant to let a woman, any woman, into his boys' club. However, the single biggest issue between the siblings is Roscoe. Captain Cold hates the Top with a burning passion (and vice versa), and, since the two of them seemed to get along fairly well in their earliest team-ups together, this mutual dislike seems to stem from the fact that Roscoe started dating Leonard's little sister. Add in the fact that Roscoe sees Leonard as an uncultured boor and Leonard sees Roscoe as a stuck-up snob, and you have a recipe for constant conflict. We usually don't get to see much fallout from this (usually because one or both of the lovers have been dead for large portions of their canonical history), but if you're going to have Lisa, Len, and Roscoe in a story together, the tension between the three of them is going to be a major factor.

In addition to all of the above, Lisa is a very beautiful woman, and she knows it. She loves jewelry, makeup, and fancy clothes, and she is also very fond of attention from men (she is, in fact, a bit of a flirt). She's had a number of boyfriends (although only when Roscoe is dead), and she is quite willing to comment on the attractiveness of other men even when Roscoe is alive. (Roscoe, for his part, is utterly unbothered by this.)

Finally, it is worth noting that Len's perspective on Lisa is perhaps a bit skewed (something that is relevant given the fact that we often hear about her from his perspective). He sees her as being a lot sweeter, more innocent, and more passive than she really is, and I find that a lot of writers fall into the trap of taking this view of her as well. It makes sense for Len, who's probably always going to see his little sister through rose-tinted glasses, but there's a lot more to Lisa than being his sweet little sister (especially since she's nastier and scarier than he is!)

The Golden Glider's main gadgets are her ice skates. These gimmicked skates constantly produce sheets of ice that let her effectively skate through the air, and, as a champion figure skater, she is able to use them to great effect. (Captain Cold was the one who built them, though why he did this is a bit unclear. Maybe they were a birthday present for her?) Golden Glider is a ruthless and aggressive combatant, and, since weaponizing figure skating is an unconventional tactic to say the least, most opponents don't really know quite how to handle her. Golden Glider also invented her own series of jewel gadgets, which can do all sorts of things, including hypnotizing people, inducing illnesses, causing pain, and firing like ballistic weaponry. Like her brother and boyfriend, she has quite the inventive streak. She also frequently uses Rosoce's weaponized tops, and she seems to handle them every bit as well as he does. Finally, she is apparently a skilled lip-reader.

In the New 52, Lisa gained the ability to astral project and lost all of her tech-based weaponry. This is an interesting powerset in its own right, and wouldn't be at all incompatible with classic Lisa, but it is a relatively new thing and seems to have been at least partially phased out in recent times. The New 52 was also what gave us her relationship with the Mirror Master (Sam Scudder), which I like to pretend never happened since it was basically just a worse version of her relationship with the Top. That being said, a bit of flirting between Sam and Lisa would be perfectly all right (it's well within character for them both).

When working as part of a team, Lisa is a bit of a wild card. While she and Roscoe complimented each other perfectly, and she works well with Len, she's frequently pursuing her own agenda, and if the goals of the group come into conflict with it, she will chase her goal and abandon the group. Her tendency towards rage can also make her short-sighted and potentially unreliable. Still, she is a powerful asset to the team, and she can certainly work well with the other Rogues when she chooses to do so.

As a last bit of writing advice, it's important to note that Lisa had no criminal record prior to becoming the Golden Glider. She did not commit crimes with Roscoe before his (first) death, and she likewise didn't commit crimes alongside Len. Traditionally, neither one of them influenced her choice to become a villain at all, and the subsequent additions to the lore that suggest that Captain Cold substantially influenced her decision to become a criminal weaken the character (at least in my opinion).

Trickster I (James Jesse): The first Trickster, James Jesse (real name Giovanni Giuseppi) was the son of Italian tight rope walkers who traveled the country as the part of the very creatively-named Big Circus. (Different versions of his origin differ regarding what his parents were like, though the most recent version, which makes them outright abusive, is not the backstory I prefer for him.) He wanted to be a part of their act, but he was afraid of heights (or perhaps more accurately, of falling). To this end, he built himself a pair of shoes that used compressed air jets to let him walk on air. Now assured that he would never fall, he became the highlight of his family's tightrope act. He also loved to read, and was especially fond of books about his "reverse namesake" Jesse James...something that would inspire him when he grew bored of the circus and decided to seek out bigger thrills. Jesse James had robbed trains. James Jesse would do him one better and rob planes...as the Trickster!

James (as he generally calls himself) is a charming con-man with a silver tongue and the humor of an eight-year-old. He's energetic, cheerful, and always eager to put on a show or face a challenge. He isn't interested in money, or power, or revenge. What James craves is the excitement of matching wits with the Flash; the delight of outsmarting others; and the joys of generally being a mischievous scamp. As he himself puts it, he's "not a mean man", and has no interest in seriously hurting anyone; in his mind, crime is simply a grand game, and his general high spirits are a reflection of this. He's also one of the most moral and least malevolent Flash villains, and is one of the few to have never killed anyone in any capacity. Perhaps unsurprisingly, then, he is close friends with the now-reformed Rogue Pied Piper, and has himself reformed several times (partly out of fear for his immortal soul---he outsmarted the demon Neron twice)!

In spite of his apparent childishness, James is extremely intelligent. He's the best con artist in the DC Universe (he's outplayed Catwoman, no small feat), and he's very good at reading people. Further, he's an skilled inventor, having created a huge number of trick gadgets, including, but not limited to, boxing gloves, sneezing powder, itching powder, yo-yos, dart guns, hand puppets, rocking horses, surfboards, and rocket-powered tricycles. He uses these gadgets to do...well...pretty much whatever he feels like. Sometimes, he robs banks. Other times, he outwits mobsters, sends them to prison, and then donates their ill-gotten loot to charity. As his nome de guerre perhaps implies, you never quite know what you're going to get from the Trickster. Even his closest allies always have to be on their toes around him.

James also has a son, an eleven-year-old boy named Billy Hong, who has only made one appearance (in the Rogues: New Year's Evil). Billy is the conduit for a huge amount of godly power and is also an important religious figure in the fictional DC country of Zhutan. How James and Billy's mother, Mindy Hong, met each other and produced Billy isn't entirely clear, but I suspect that it may have happened while James was still with the circus. James and Mindy have a surprisingly good relationship with one another, and James would likely be quite fond of Billy, who inherited more than a little of his father's cleverness.

James is not, however, particularly fond of his successor, Axel Walker, who stole his gear and declared himself the new Trickster without James' permission. James does not like this more violent, less clever pretender to his title and has made that fact abundantly clear. James is also substantially more experienced than Axel and defeated him quite handily in their only proper fight. That being said, if you wanted to have them both as Rogues at the same time, there would be ways to work around their mutual hostility to one another (especially since Axel, on some level, does seem to have some respect for James' work and legacy).

James is a very sly, clever combatant. He's very good at getting his opponents to turn their own strength against themselves, and his wide variety of trick gadgets are quite formidable. His airwalker shoes also usually give him the advantage of the metaphorical high ground and enable him to launch attacks from directions that the Rogues' opponents might not be expecting. Further, they make him very difficult for most enemies to close in on, allowing him to stay at a distance from stronger opponents. That being said, if someone does manage to close that distance, James is usually put at a disadvantage, due to a noticeable glass jaw (he really can't take a punch)---but he may also use this apparent weakness as a ploy to disorient his opponents.

James works well with the other Rogues on heists, and his cleverness is a huge asset to the group. However, his ever-changing loyalties and his mischievous sense of humor mean that he can't always be relied upon to follow through on what his allies want him to do. Trickster by name and trickster by nature, James is always working his own angle---and woe betide anyone who forgets that.

It's also worth noting that comic James is neither a homicidal mass murderer (as seen in the two live-action Flash TV shows) nor suffering from psychosis (as seen in the Justice League cartoon). He's weird and flamboyant, but he's not particularly malevolent, and he doesn't suffer from any obvious mental illnesses.

The Top (Roscoe Dillon): The Top, alias Roscoe Dillon, is one of the most powerful and dangerous of the Rogues. His backstory is a bit hard to piece together thanks to limited information, but from what we can tell, he was a rather odd little boy who absolutely loved tops and played with them frequently. His parents were evidently cold and demanding, insisting that he honor the family name and demanding that he be perfect---or as near to it as he could get. Roscoe, of course, could not meet these demands, and seems to have been, to some extent, rejected by his parents because of this. Also not helping matters was a rather serious mental illness that was brewing in the wings. Comic books are notoriously bad at properly representing mental illness of any kind, and Roscoe is no exception, but if properly written he would probably suffer from a particularly severe case of Bipolar 1 disorder (as this is the closest match to the symptoms we see him canonically display).

What happened next is hard for me to work out. Roscoe is very intelligent, wants to be seen as educated and well-bred, and seems likely to have come from a much wealthier background than most of the other Rogues, but we do know that he was arrested at least twice prior to becoming the Top, and in one story he claimed that the streets of Brooklyn hadn't educated him well enough for him to run as president. (That particular story wrote the Top quite badly, so I'm inclined to discount that line, but the two arrests before he becomes the Top are harder to reconcile with the general sense I have of him being from an upper-class background---though admittedly, we don't know exactly what those arrests were for.) Regardless, at some point in his early adulthood, he suffered from what seems to have been an especially intense manic episode and properly began his costumed criminal career as the Top. He created a whole slew of weaponized tops, taught himself to spin in circles at super speed, and then went out to commit crimes. After some early success, he built an atomic grenade (which also spun like a top), and told the entire world that he would blow up half the globe with his grenade if he wasn't made king of the world. Roscoe himself, of course, would be safe on the other side of the planet when the bomb went off. (You can see why I question his sanity in this story....) Luckily, the Flash stopped this insane scheme of his, and after this he generally stuck to robberies (like the other Rogues).

At some point, he met and fell in love with Lisa (teaching her his spinning techniques in the process), and the two began a long romance that would extend beyond his first death. Ironically, this death occurred as the result of Roscoe's burgeoning mental powers. His newfound telekinesis (activated by all that spinning he taught himself to do, which allegedly increased his brainpower) did not react well to the Flash's super speed, and the backlash killed him, though not before he set up a bunch of bombs with which he intended to blow up Central City, a plot that was foiled by the joint effort of the Flash and the other Rogues, who didn't particularly want their home city to be blown to smithereens. Roscoe is far too fond of explosives.

But he wouldn't be gone for long. Roscoe, as it turned out, had also developed the power to return from the dead by possessing the bodies of the recently deceased, a trick he would pull several times (the most notable case of which occurred when he possessed the body of Barry's father, Henry Allen, whose heart had briefly stopped in a car crash). He would also have several more manic and depressive episodes, one of which was severe enough to induce long-lasting psychosis that took years to recover from. But recover he did, and he then attempted to wrest control of the Rogues from Captain Cold. This failed, and Cold executed him, but he's since spun his way out of the grave yet again.

With that very long and complicated backstory out of the way, we can now turn to Roscoe's actual personality. Roscoe is, not to put too fine a point on it, very difficult to get along with. He's arrogant, standoffish, ambitious, power-hungry, dismissive of others, and a bit of a snob. He looks down on the other Rogues as being unsophisticated and uneducated, and this naturally serves to make him rather unpopular with them. That being said, these traits do seem to wax and wane over time; he was actually very polite and friendly towards the other Rogues when he first joined the group, and it seems that his coldness towards them didn't come to the fore until after he started dating Lisa. This, in turn, caused friction with Len, and, combined with their vastly different personalities and life experiences, led to the mutual disdain the two men have for one another.

However, Roscoe displays none of these qualities with Lisa, his beloved girlfriend. With her he is polite, supportive, affectionate, loyal, and seemingly dazzled by her charms. He doesn't seem threatened by her potentially wandering eye or her many other boyfriends, and he is perfectly happy to have her working alongside him as an apparently equal partner-in-crime. In fact, she seems to be the only person in the world with whom he has successfully maintained a healthy relationship. Just how he managed this feat is beyond me, but Roscoe is actually an ideal boyfriend as far a supervillains go. It's also noteworthy that he seems to have very little interest in women other than Lisa (especially given the skirt-chasing habits of the other male Rogues); he has a one-track mind when it comes to romance and it's entirely focused on her.

The only thing that comes close to matching Lisa in Roscoe's affections are his beloved tops. His interest in tops is so intense, and so all-pervasive, that both @gorogues and I interpret it as an autistic special interest. He has been fascinated with them since childhood, reads and researches about them as an adult, builds hundreds of weaponized tops to aid him in his crimes, plays with them in prison, and literally dresses himself like a giant top. The word "top" also pervades his language; the number of stupid top puns he's made over the years is frankly astounding. The man loves tops.

This leads me into a not-strictly-canon but nevertheless important aspect of Roscoe's behavior. @gorogues and I are both on the autism spectrum, and, as the mention of his top fascination as a special interest suggests, we believe that Roscoe makes a lot of sense if you read him as being autistic. Indeed, in my fanfics I explicitly write him that way. It would explain his deep love of tops, his general awkwardness and utter inability to read social cues, his somewhat depressing habit of driving away the people he wants to be friends with because of his inability to understand how he's frustrating them, his rather odd speech patterns, and even his ability to spin himself as effectively as he does (some autistic people have a very high tolerance to dizziness, which would explain why he's so good at it). He isn't usually depicted as being sensitive to sensory stimulus such as lights or sound, but I often write him as being sensitive to noise and being rather touch-shy around most people. Similarly, he hasn't canonically been shown to engage in much stimming, but I do sometimes write him as rocking when stressed, and @gorogues usually portrays his spinning as a calming mechanism as well.

We also try to write his "comic book crazy" mental illness as bipolar 1 disorder (again, as noted above); researching the symptoms of that disorder might well be helpful in writing Roscoe in the midst of one of his episodes, which are so severe as to sometimes cause psychosis. (Both manic and depressive episodes can become psychotic.) It's also a good idea to write Roscoe at his most sympathetic when he's actively in the middle of one of his episodes, as this helps avoid the unfortunate implication that his mental illness is responsible for his criminality. Roscoe is not a good person....but he would be just as mentally ill if he had never become a criminal.

Roscoe is extremely intelligent, and, like many of the Rogues, is a talented inventor. He has created an enormous number of weaponized tops (blacklight tops, machine-gun tops, black-out tops, paralyzing tops, explosive tops, bolo tops, streamer-shooting tops, image-producing tops, sonic tops, and many more), and he was also somehow able to build a top-shaped satellite, stuff it full of money, and get it into orbit. He also appears to be well-read and is at least highly self-educated (which he will brag about to anyone who will listen, and anyone who won't).

Roscoe is apparently something of a wine connoisseur (a fact of which he is immensely proud), and I think we can assume that he, unlike the other Rogues, generally doesn't drink too much beer, as it doesn't fit with his upper-class attitude and ambitions. He also likes to discuss literature, and, in doing so, was able to form something of a bond with the equally bookish Weather Wizard (Marco "Mark" Mardon). He desperately wants to be seen as sophisticated, and it's probably no coincidence that his diction has become increasingly formal as he has become more ambitious and distanced from his fellow Rogues. He is one of the few Rogues who is probably unlikely to use slang or much improper grammar, and his florid speech patterns rub Captain Cold the wrong way.

The Top is a formidable opponent. In addition to his many weaponized tops, he is also a metahuman (the only consistent one amongst the Rogues). He has the ability to spin at speeds so high that he can outpace the Flash and deflect bullets, and, more dangerously still, he has impressive mental powers. His telekinesis is powerful enough to ripe spires off of buildings and levitate huge chunks of Earth, and, as if that wasn't enough, he also has the ability to induce vertigo in his opponents. With enough effort, he even has a limited ability to control and manipulate the minds of others (though since this power has only ever been used to justify a really stupid retcon, I generally downplay this particular ability substantially when I write him). Roscoe is, in short, overwhelmingly powerful, and, while his arrogance is a notable weakness, he is a very tough nut to crack---especially since he can also return from the dead.

The Top's ability to work in groups is variable. If he's mentally stable and not in a snit about anything, he is an incredibly powerful and useful member of the Rogues. He can work well with the group---the problem is that he often doesn't. He's notorious for offending his teammates, and equally notorious for deciding that he should take over the Rogues himself (in spite of the fact that he isn't particularly well-suited for leadership). This, naturally, can severely hamper the Rogues' ability to get things done. About the only person he can consistently be counted upon to work well with is his beloved Lisa, who is totally exempt from his usual arrogance and general inability to get along with people.

It's also worth noting that Roscoe, to some extent, prefers to work alone. In his mind, it's because he's better than everyone around him and is better off without them dragging him down, but in actuality, it's because he's frustrated by his inability to get along with the other Rogues and largely completely confused as to why they don't like him. It's rather lonely at the top.

Thanks for the ask! I hope this helps!

[captainschaos]

Everyone knows the phoenix and the demon. Easy! Tango, firebird, the ever-furious and ever-alight, and Impulse, the horned and summoned, from a realm not of here. Now there's two fiery folk, easy beacons to spot in the night, with roaring laughs and flickering fingers which work the wires. Horrible enemies to make, but generally friendly enough, if you haven't particularly wronged them. But there are two others with them, who you might not even realize you don't understand as well as the first pair.

Skizz bursts to the front with a hearty greeting and ready kindness, and everyone thinks they know exactly what he is! The angel, right? With wings tall and broad, flickering as they decide whether they are here or there. A distortion many assume is a halo, a ring of light (if you catch it at the right angle) that frames his head. And they're not... wrong? But not quite right either.

Would you call a grim reaper an angel?

Maybe you would, depending on your personal thoughts on the idea, really. Particularly if you consider the similarities to the guardian angel, another figure standing tall and imposing, but with the kindness Skizz is known for. But what most don't know is that these are two sides of the same coin. His post is simply on the opposite side of death. A guardian angel patrols a person's life, but he is the one waiting with a steady smile and a gentle hand to guide and protect them when it comes time for them to move on.

If you're confused, you might ask Impulse about him.

"Oh, Skizz? We don't really ask about it too much. I don't like to focus all too much on the hellish side of my life, and I think he prefers to think about the earthly part of his."

But few people will get around to asking. No one really thinks to, quite frankly, and Skizz is alright with that. Not that he wants to hide it, but... it's just nicer to blend in with the gang, y'know? He's always liked the life games for how they let him get in touch with the sides of life he typically can only watch and wish about. He gets to fight like the guardian angels, to cultivate that fierce loyalty, and to just be physical. In every way. Overflowing at the seams, physical and alive. He'd rather forget about the whole reaper business while he can.

There's the other one, though. Now Etho- no one thinks they understand him, and everyone gave up on trying to a long time ago. Etho, the ever-looming shadow at the back of the group, the gaze you can't seem to stop feeling on the back of your neck. He's an enigma. A mystery. And everyone seems to have reached a point of contentedness with this. Few attempt to dive deeper, simply accepting that Etho is not an entity to be understood, but certainly to be feared.

And yet. Well... that's not really correct either.

In some ways, Etho is far more understandable than anyone realizes. After all, there's certain rules to fae. Names have power. Deals are contracts. At least, to a certain extent- they're a bit fuzzy around the edges, of course. What can you expect from creatures woven from such magic and mystique? But still, fae can be expected to be the unexpected. Practically half the Hermitcraft server is some sort of fae or another after all, so they have some idea of what makes those sorts tick. And yet Etho seems to bewilder even them. No one tries to discern how he works- he just does.

If you were really curious about it, you might ask Tango. He'd probably laugh at you though.

"What's Etho? You might as well ask what species the ocean is! Who knows, man. He's definitely the most fae of any of us, but no one knows a single thing past that. Sometimes I wonder if he even knows, honestly."

And yet he makes a strange sort of sense, should you pay attention to it. Behind every action of his, there's a surprisingly clear reason. Why does he trust you? Because of the gift you gave him three weeks ago. Why does he refuse to help you? Because you slighted him, and he hasn't gotten you back yet. These motivations come from the smallest of interactions, but he will remember. In the life games... that's dangerous. There is a looming fear that shrouds him not necessarily because of what you don't know about him, but because of what you don't know about yourself. You didn't forget to pay him back when you promised, did you? You made sure to steer clear of trampling his crops, right? You can never be sure of what you might be forgetting. And there's always the chance that is the detail he chose to remember, stitched up neatly and tightly in his mind, with a deadly needle.

The kind smile at the front, the diligent eye at the back. It's rare to see them side by side, and yet it is even rarer to see them apart. They fought for the same army in the first of the life games, one the berserker, one the deadly tactician. They found themselves fighting the same battles again in the next round, pulling away from each other as they separated their always warring teammates, but united in a two-man army in the war against that war. Skizz was gone for the game of soulmates, but now- of course they are together. No one would think to draw the line connecting them. But there would be something quite wrong to see a line separating them.

And let's just say no one wants to find themself across any line from them.

[I plan on having one of these per week of the series ! 1/?]

Next

[apocalypticavolition]

Let's (re)Read The Eye of the World! Chapter 10: Leavetaking

I feel like saying "Hello" at the start of these is silly, but I don't know what else to do to start up each section of this reread! This reread is filled with more spoilers than a Cliff's Notes Omnibus, so if you're trying to avoid them you should avoid this post too. Run away like the gang is skipping town!

This chapter has Moiraine's staff for its icon and I think it's just because she's taking charge of everyone's fates now, or trying to. The Wheel's gonna weave though, whether she likes it or not.

“I looked,” Perrin replied. “There’s nobody here but us. Why would anybody hide—”

Why would anybody try to destroy your hometown, Perrin? I think people think you're slow because of stupid questions like this.

Rand thought about flourishing the sword, but Lan being there stopped him. The Warder was not even looking in his direction, but he was sure the man was aware of everything that went on around him.

Rand's constant need for Lan's approval in all things is wonderful and I'm going to point it out every time it happens. If you don't like it, join the people afraid of spoilers.

“Master Luhhan made it about two years ago, for a wool-buyer’s guard. But when it was done the fellow wouldn’t pay what he had agreed, and Master Luhhan would not take less. He gave it to me when”—he cleared his throat, then shot Rand the same warning frown he’d given Mat—“when he found me practicing with it. He said I might as well have it since he couldn’t make anything useful from it.”

A DIscord buddy of mine said that Perrin is basically what happens when King Arthur grows up next to Crystal Dragon Jesus, and boy is he desperate to prove it, since he also has a weapon inherited from a father figure but it's nowhere near as cool as Rand's Bladed Certificate of Badassery.

Anything can be a weapon, if the man or woman who holds it has the nerve and will to make it so.

Lan, meanwhile, once accepted a challenge to defeat a rampaging Trolloc army by using all the items in an abandoned Borderlander farm once each. Kind of a shame that we end up sticking mostly to traditional weapons and magic as the series goes on; stuff like Rand boiling the Trolloc with the kettle always has an extra fun element.

“We left notes,” Mat said. “For our families. They’ll find them in the morning. Rand, my mother thinks Tar Valon is the next thing to Shayol Ghul.” He gave a little laugh to show he did not share her opinion. It was not very convincing. “She’d try to lock me in the cellar if she believed I was even thinking of going there.”

Frankly Mat, I think that as long as you weren't being dragged off in irons, your mother would be quite happy to have you out of the house for a few months to grow up and not cause trouble.

Also, it's really weird that Perrin only mentions the Luhhans and not his own family. I'm aware that as Perrin is an apprentice he needs his teacher's approval to do things, but you'd think his parents would have a problem with this too. I hope Perrin actually left them a note too instead of just Luhahan; it would really suck if he missed this opportunity to say goodbye what with their imminent demise.

“Not without me.” Egwene slipped into the stable, a shawl-wrapped bundle in her arms. Rand nearly fell over his own feet.

One of my favorite things about the story is that our young lady is jumping at the chance for adventure and taking every opportunity to get while our young gents are being painfully dragged towards their doom. Egwene's not a ta'veren because the Pattern doesn't need to drag her around by the heels like it does with the layabouts; she's probably already planning on becoming Amyriln and she doesn't even know she can channel yet.

Do you think you three are the only ones who want to see what’s outside? I’ve dreamed about it as long as you have, and I don’t intend to miss this chance.

Sadly though, she does have a tendency to project. Absolutely none of the boys are leaving out of curiosity about the outside world; camping trips to the mountains are as far as they're interested in going.

A startled expression darted across Lan’s face. It was gone in an instant, leaving him outwardly calm, but furious words erupted from him. “No, Moiraine!”

It may seem a bit strange for stoic Lan to be having this outburst, but I stand by my fake dialogue from several chapters ago: dude is (rightly) convinced that Rand is the real deal and (wrongly) convinced that the others are just a waste of time. Now Moiraine's not even adding plausible candidates to their entourage, and who gets to hide all of their tracks? Lan. Dude might be loving the idea of becoming the Dragon Reborn's personal sword sensei, but babysitting the rest of these idiots is making him long to just go die in the Blight like he was going to twenty years ago.

“That will not be possible,” came Thom Merrilin’s resonant voice from the hayloft. Lan’s sword left its sheath this time, and he did not put it back as he stared up at the gleeman.

If this chapter was from Lan's POV, this is the point where his internal monologue would be lots of funny Borderland swears. And jeez Perrin, you "didn't think" of looking in the loft? That's like the most obvious hiding place!

Thom put his feet on the stable floor and turned from the ladder, brushing straw from his patch-covered cloak. “In fact,” he said in more normal tones, “you might say that I insist on traveling in company. I have given many hours over many mugs of ale to thinking of how I might end my days. A Trolloc’s cookpot was not one of the thoughts.”

Also, Thom may be using the Trollocs and lure of Tar Valon (not quoted but mentioned earlier) as excuses, but they're both BS. He knows damn well that he's not a target and that Moiraine's party is, so joining them only increases his risk. Further, he has no reason to go to Tar Valon unless he's ready to die by trying to off whatever Red Ajah witches killed his nephew, and right now he doesn't even know their names. He's just worried that one of the boys - all of the boys - might have the ability to channel and that they're being led to their doom, and he's willing to put up with a lot to save them if that's the case. Nobody in this stable is a paragon of morality, but they all have the hearts of heroes. As far as I'm concerned, all of them EXCEPT Mat (who doesn't wanna be) are bound to the Horn and this is just one hell of a crossover episode.

“Bela,” Rand said, getting a look from Lan that made him wish he had kept silent. But he knew he could not dissuade Egwene; the only thing left was to help.

Speaking of good hearts, I love the way that the EF5 are almost incapable of getting along but will still assist each other at nearly every opportunity.

The only horse left riderless was Cloud, a tall gray with a black mane and tail that belonged to Jon Thane, or had. 

Rand started this story with Bela and now that he's realized he's eight or nine years overdue for a properly mid-life crisis, he's traded her in for a racing model. Boy is gonna go through a lot of horses before this is over. Current horse count: 2

(There is no way I will remember this count by the time we get to the third horse, let alone the finale.)

“Wolves!” Perrin exclaimed, and the Warder favored him with a flat stare.

Foreshadowing! Boy deserves some since he hasn't really had much yet.

“Two Dha’vol Trollocs would have them all for breakfast,” Lan muttered when the sound of their boots had faded, “but they have eyes and ears.” He turned his stallion back. “Come.”

We don't know much about the Trolloc bands, but we can probably gather from this that the Dha'vols (guess the etymology!) are some of the least threatening.

Rand peered at the high-peaked houses in the dark, trying to impress them on his memory. A fine adventurer I am, he thought. He was not even out of the village yet, and already he was homesick. But he did not stop looking.

Don't be too hard on yourself, Rand. You're not coming back, not in this lifetime, and maybe even not in the next. Also your home is several miles away so you're further off than all the others.

A black shape flew slowly across the silvery ball of the moon. Rand’s involuntary jerk on the reins halted the gray. A bat, he thought weakly, but he knew it was not.

Meet the draghkar. I'm not quite certain where their name comes from (it seems to be a dragon variant), but they're pretty obviously (suc/in)cubi with hints of siren or vampire. Like the other variants of Shadowspawn seen thus far, draghkar are made from human beings, which makes me wonder: is there some sort of Fade equivalent to them, like what Trollocs have? Or is the genetic manipulation severe enough that the channeler gene doesn't exist in them, so no such throwbacks occur? Both options are frightening in different ways.

Also note that despite being potentially really effective threats against our heroes (one almost takes out Moiraine in book two after all), they pretty much drop off the face of the earth after book five or so. Sanderson brings them back for the Last Battle though, but sadly not in a way that really lets them shine. It might have just been too hard for either author to keep coming up with organic ways to include them that didn't end too much like previous encounters or with the readers going, "Yeah that person should be dead now." Or maybe the gholam ended up filling the same sort of niche too well.

It was Thom Merrilin who answered her hoarsely. “In the war that ended the Age of Legends, worse than Trollocs and Halfmen were created.” Moiraine’s head jerked toward him as he spoke. Not even the dark could hide the sharpness of her look.

Moiraine was born eons too late-early to watch Star Trek: The Next Generation, but if she could see it, like me she would absolutely hate it when Picard asks the away team what's happening and Riker answers, "Trouble" or something else that is only an answer in the most useless sense of the word. She really doesn't appreciate it coming from someone who knows they need to be quiet and whose contributions are doing nothing but scaring the children she's trying to kidnap. Thom, meanwhile, really doesn't appreciate it when women are Aes Sedai in his presence. Naturally, Jordan thinks they're soul mates.

But that's an unsatisfying romance for another book, and we're closing out another chapter, bringing us closer to the somewhat unsatisfying romance in this book! Next time: The Road to Taren Ferry!

[tarnishedspark]

I have this 1 bayverse wip where i decided to experiment and write it like a movie script. I haven't gotten very far because it takes extra thinking but I've just opened the document after a while and I enjoy how this scene, like the actual movies, contains blatant product placement.

Cut to two youths in an electronics store standing infront of a shelf of playstation and xbox consoles. Frenzy: "I don't know bro, it's just so hard to choose!" Rumble, holding the latest Nintendo console: "You could just get both." Frenzy, picking up both boxes: "You think I should?" Rumble: "Sure, it's not like we're paying for them." The youths smile mischievously at eachother and run out the door, setting off alarms as they go.  Employees shout and chase them out to the street where they board a pair of matching motorcycles, one red and black the other blue. The youths shimmer with a hologram pattern.  The motorcycles laugh as they speed away

some extra notes for the wip:

motorbike alt modes inspired by their latestage idw motorbike alt modes

because soundwave Died, they end up with the Autobots and are left in Blaster's care, but they end up being Rewind's problem

Because bayverse doesn't rlt do mass displacement, Rewind's alt mode is one of those massive movie cameras, probably including the camera rig. He fits conveniently across Chromedome's back seat and puts his holoform in the passenger seat.

I think i have accidentally imagined chromedome as a bugatti and quite frankly it is hilarious. In his beige and brown with red. on a super expensive car. like someone spent their money on that.

Prowl is here too, playing the role of chromedome's bitter ex.

Rewind gets rumblr and frenzy into movie making. They want to make action movies. Again some idw inspiration there.

we ignore the canon frenzy. Rename him or whatever.

Soundwave doesn't Stay dead and he is Angry

i think maybe actually every one of these points is a "some idw inspiration here"

[orionsangel86]

I remember also seeing somewhere that someone said RTD would have to put blood, sweat, and tears into proving that people wouldn’t be showing up to the BBC with pitchforks and torches for them to even consider having a trans character who was as well represented as Rose. However, I should also point out that I know absolutely nothing about the BBC since I’m a born and raised American, so I could definitely be wrong on how true that is (even though I absolutely would not be surprised if it is). But also if it is true, rounds of applause because I can bet most media networks here still could never for a good handful of years.

Basically I think the fact that it was only 144 complaints out of over 7 million people watching is very telling that whatever proof RTD probably had to show to the BBC was 100% solidified. Dude proved that it really is just the conspiracy nuts and people of the Fox News religion that make the world seem like it’s worse than it is.

Yeah so the BBC is public funded TV rather than relying on advertising for income so their whole deal is that they SHOULD be representing all tax payers in their programming. A lot of older conservative people tend to forget this and feel that anything that deviates from the "norm" is an incorrect use of "their money" so they get on their high horses and complain like the snowflakes they are.

The BBC SHOULD be pushing boundaries and taking risks with their stuff, but they are still resistant and no where near as forward thinking as say Channel 4 - whose whole deal was about pushing boundaries and attracting a younger more liberal audience.

I can well believe RTD had to fight for Rose's inclusion but the truth is the "trans panic" is very much an invention of the right wing media, right wing politicians, and hateful assholes like JK Rowling. Regular people in the UK quite frankly don't give a shit. They may get irritated for a bit when a new click bait article appears with some incendiary comment like "nurses no longer allowed to call female people "women" and have to refer to everyone by their genitalia" which we know is a bullshit twist on the truth but after rolling their eyes and having a few morons go on facebook rants, no one is gathering pitchforks and torches in the UK with a mind to round up and attack all trans people. Yes there is potentially a rise in hate crimes DUE TO the medias trans panic invention, but I hope that the minimal complaints and the popularity of that episode can at least show some trans people that the UK is not as bad as it has been made out to be these past few years.

Thats also partly why i have commented on two posts about the 144 complaints now, because i can see trans people on tumblr getting upset about it when in the bigger picture its totally irrelevant and nothing to be worried about. You are just as likely to be taken in by the media's fake trans panic as anyone else, but young fearful trans people are more likely to get upset by it when its all been blown out of proportion. 144 complaints is a regular episode of Eastenders. The BBC wont pay attention to that nonsense so please take comfort in that.

[skvaderarts]

Petrichor Chapter 60: Lore

Chapter 60: Lore

Note: So… I might have gotten carried away. Like 22 pages and 10.3K words over the course of three whole overnight writing sessions carried away. So enjoy! It was fun! I even published it like 6 hours early!

(-~-)

The forest was dark, devoid of any semblance of life or levity. No birds chirped. No air blew through their hair as they walked along the nearly invisible path set out before them. Every second that they continued onward was enough to play at the anxieties of the average mortal, pulling at the strings that controlled their subconscious, making them question their senses; their very sanity. The sanctity of one’s mind was the price for entering a place like this.

But V had not come this far to let his nerves get the better of him. He had work to do.

Knowing the forest’s game was the first challenge. It wanted to warp his perception of his environment, make him second guess anything and everything that he thought he heard or felt. Its goal was to get him to retreat. To turn back the way he’d come. Perhaps to ensnare him within its web as he fell to madness and despair within its grounds. Either way, it had one the game by that point. Whatever that game might truly entail.

As soon as he’d accepted that, then he’d been able to reclaim some ground. Forcing his subconscious to remember who it belonged to and who it served. He would not bend to the will of a forest, even a supernatural one like this. His will was not weak enough for that. But he had to admit that he did feel something stir within him. Something he hadn’t felt since they’d left the devil prince’s domain. A power he couldn’t place tingling at the tips of his fingers, waiting eagerly for his beck and call. 

This place… something was very wrong with it. And he didn’t seem to be the only one who’d notice that.

Sirrus’s nerves had continued to fray the deeper they ventured into the woods, his mental endurance clearly running thinner and thinner by the moment despite no direct cause that V could detect. Sure, something was very… off about this place, but he didn’t get the impression that something like that could have such an undeniable effect on his beloved companion. He genuinely seemed to be struggling. And as V drew closer to him in an attempt to assess his condition better, he noticed the fatigued look on his face, his posture, and his ability to keep his eyes fully open both systematically failing him. He looked awful, quite frankly. Unwell. 

This place was taking some toll on him. Asking a price that he could only barely afford. And he was paying for it. Heavily. Every action he took was labored, and he appeared to truly be giving it his all. V couldn’t help but worry about him, unsure as to whether or not he should take a moment and snap him out of his stupor, or leave him in his trance-like state. Would it do him more harm than good to break his concentration?

“You’ve become uncharacteristically quiet, Sirrus,” Gustave said quietly, not turning back to look at either of them as they continued forward, their destination still invisible to him from where they currently stood. Everything was in this damnable forest aside from the glow of symbols in the air around them, revealing the path for them as they outlined the trees they walked between. They were probably carved into them. The symbols were the same as the ones he’d seen back in the city, and they were still just as unreadable, but he imagined that they did mean something. Gustave seemed to know where he was going.

Sirrus didn’t respond. Only continuing to walk forward as if by sheer force of will alone. His lack of response alone was enough for Gustave who appeared to pause for a moment before continuing his oneward march. This was an eventuality that he didn’t seem all that surprised by. Almost as though he’d expected it. He didn’t even need to look back to verify the state that the adjudicator was in. He already knew.

“He doesn’t seem… “ V wasn’t even sure how to say it in a way that made sense, so he opted to just spit it out. There was no point in beating around the bush. Everyone present knew that something was very wrong here. “He isn’t doing well. In what way, I am none the wiser, but… “

Gustave glanced in his direction and nodded before turning his attention back to the path ahead of them. He didn’t break pace at all, seemingly unalarmed by Sirrus’s current state, something that made V more alarmed than he’d previously been. What was it about his friend’s condition that didn’t worry Gustave? Everything about the way he looked screamed trouble in every way possible. In fact, he looked as though he were on the brink of needing medical attention… 

“Yes, I would imagine he’d only subconsciously following along now. He is fortunate indeed for our guideposts.” Gustave gestured by spreading his arms out around himself, more than likely towards the forest around them. More specifically towards the glowing icons that encompassed them. They clearly wouldn’t have made it this far into the forsaken forest without their aid. “I know you can see them. You’d be lost otherwise.”

V stepped a bit closer to Sirrus, gently gripping his lower arm as though he were concerned that he might lose track of him as they ascended an incline of sorts. He could barely see where they were going, let alone the angle if not for the wards. As such, he nearly had a quiet stroke the moment Gustave disappeared ahead of him, only to come back into his line of vision a handful of seconds later as they once again stood upon the same topography level of the forest. But for a moment there he’d been certain that they’d lost track of him. He exhaled quietly, releasing Sirrus’s arm as they continued onward. He didn’t want to trip him up due to the differences in their gait now that they were on level ground.

“What are they,” V asked, his topic of inquiry obvious. There was only one thing in this forest that anyone was capable of seeing in the first place. Well, unless Gustave was able to see things that he wasn’t. And honestly, he wasn’t willing to put that out of the realm of possibility. All things considered, it wouldn’t surprise him one bit if that was the case.

“Enochian wards. They are unreadable to you, but the fact you could even see them before in town… ” Gustave almost seemed impressed as he spoke, but there was a note of something else in his voice something V wasn’t sure how to interpret. But as the older gentleman glanced back at them before returning his attention to the task at hand, V got a glimpse of what almost seemed to be intrigue in his face, something that he hadn’t expected to see. And then Gustave continued, adjusting the collar of his coat as they ventured further into the depths.

“Humans cannot properly comprehend Enochian. Your ability to even behold it properly is a dead giveaway of your inhuman nature.” His voice took on a deeper, much more sinister air, the seriousness of his next words all but guaranteed. And that was not something that V failed to notice. “You would do well not to reveal your knowledge of it amongst the wrong company. Such things have… consequences.”

V considered his warning as they ventured deeper and deeper into the woods wondering to himself if Griffon had ever heard of it. Perhaps it was worth asking… 

“Before you ask, hell yeah, I’ve heard of it. Just didn’t know that was what those silly little squiggly lines were. Shouda known. No wonder I can’t read it. Guess the ol’ brain’s just not big enough. Ask him for the details, though. Like I said, I can’t read it. Or speak it. It’s gibberish as far as I’m concerned. Totally out of my wheelhouse, V. You’re on your own. And while you’re at it, get out of this damn forest. I’ve got a bad feeling about his place… ”

Griffon’s sudden interjection was enough to take V by surprise, the summoner genuinely somewhat surprised to learn that his avian summon had any knowledge of the topic. Especially after their previous conversation. He’d hoped that he might, but still. Hope alone rarely made things go his way.

Just as quickly as he’d spoken, he fell silent once more, leaving V alone with his thoughts once again. He sounded better, at the very least. His headache had hopefully dissipated somewhat since their last conversation. The last thing he wanted was for Griffon to be uncomfortable longer than he needed to be. And he had to agree with him. Everything about this place was a massive red flag. He didn’t exactly feel as though he were in danger… but he didn’t feel entirely safe, either. It was hard to describe.

“You’ve become quiet again.”

This time V had a better sense of how long the conversation had lasted. Yes, indeed he had. Perhaps his timing had been sudden, but at least this time he didn’t need to worry about losing track of time since his little conversation had been brief and rather one-sided. He didn’t need to focus on responding. Just his surroundings. And possibly Sirrus, lest they lose him in this place. But he certainly hoped that the last part wouldn’t come to pass.

“My familiar was lamenting our continued presence within this forest,” V answered nonchalantly, something that, to his surprise, earned him an amused scoff from Gustave. The older man shook his head briefly, obviously entertained by the prospect of a demon being uncomfortable in a place like this. Not because it didn’t make sense, but because it was simply funny by principle alone.

“Afraid of the dark, is he?” Gustave said, his amusement carrying forward in his voice, even if only slightly. But to his continued amusement and the surprise of his summoner, Griffon suddenly manifested before them and settled atop of V’s left shoulder. A perch he quickly swapped for the top of V’s head, perhaps in a bid to be taller than the older gentlemen. The young summoner could think of no better reason for him to do that. Well, other than just to mess with his master.

“Oh, I promise you, I’m not! This place just gives me the creeps. I’d say it makes my skin crawl, but it can’t do that due to the, well, you know, the feathers.” Griffon chimed in with an almost hushed tone to his voice. He spoke as though he were whispering, but not at the correct volume. Perhaps the concept of “quiet” was something he only had cursory knowledge of. And considering how he’d reacted to seeing Cavalier Angelo and Malphas the first time back in Redgrave City, V was willing to guess that might be a distinct possibility. “And what’s all this I hear about Enochian, anyhow? Yikes, it’s written everywhere, hu? All this holy crap makes my head hurt. Ugh.”

Gustave deviated from his path and turned to face Griffon, folding his arms in front of him as V came within comfortable speaking distance of him. Despite sitting quite a bit taller than the older man, Griffon was still at a distinct disadvantage. If his experience with him thus far had taught him anything it was that the gun the older man was packing was no joke. He didn’t want to go for round two with it today. He’d probably be instantly stalemated, no questions asked. He wouldn’t even get a chance to blink.

“Many would consider it a holy script, but I do not. I do not see it as anything such, much in the same way that the language of the hells does not register to me as unholy.” Gustave said sternly as though he were lecturing a disobedient student who had answered a question in a manner so woefully incorrect that he felt compelled to clarify things for him. He wasn't upset in any way, however. Perhaps the faintest trace of annoyance at something V couldn’t place, but otherwise unbothered. Still, he continued, giving Griffon an answer just as he would anyone else. “Domain and origin of birth alone do not intentions make. Things are rarely that absolute. You are proof of that. It is all a matter of perspective… And I stopped taking sides long ago.”

“You know what he is?” V asked, a note of surprise to his tone. Now that was something he had a hard time believing. He wasn’t sure how often demons like his were created, but he got the feeling that they weren’t exactly common. After all, how many people were walking around with enough physical, mental, and emotional trauma to create a living being from and the magic sword required to create it? It was unlikely.

Nodding his head in confirmation, Gustave stepped forward and gave Griffon a once over, seemingly quietly intrigued by his overall appearance. He hadn’t gotten much of an up-close look at him before. And if his stoic nod of approval was anything to go by, he liked what he saw. “No. But I can tell what he isn’t, and that’s an average run-of-the-mill demon. And I’d hardly wager that he asked for your soul as part of your contract.”

V’s surprise deepened as he found himself once again impressed by Gustave’s deductive abilities. That was… startlingly accurate.

“Correct. He did not.” He said softly, glancing over at Sirrus as he noted to himself that he’d paused at that moment, perhaps realizing that they’d stopped walking for a moment. V had been so invested in this conversation that he’d almost lost track of him for a moment. He refused to even think about what kind of fate would befall him should he become ensnared by the woods in the state that he was in… 

“My point exactly,” Gustave said, extending his gloved hand in a manner that implied that he wanted to touch the avian demon. Griffon gave him a wary look before adjusting his stance and hesitantly allowing the man to take a better look at his iridescent wing feathers, the older gentleman nodding in apparent satisfaction.

“What made you guess that?” Griffon asked, genuinely wondering what was going through their companion’s head. He seemed to be going somewhere with this, but neither he nor V were any less confused as to what that destination might be. But to their collective surprise, Gustave leaned back slightly, allowing him to take in the pair of them more easily. And as he unfolded his arms and adjusted his sleeves and shirt collar again, he nodded to them both, regarding them quietly before turning his attention back to the road ahead, a glimmer of something uncertain in his eyes as he turned away from them.

“Because I know loyalty when I see it, little bird. It’s something you possess in spades. The kind of bond you share cannot be purchased for any price. Only forged in adversity.”

Griffon almost seemed flattered as he hopped back down off of V’s head and only his shoulder, the white-haired summoner fixing the hairs upon the top of his head as he did so. V… couldn’t disagree with that assessment of his relationship with Griffon. He really couldn’t. The circumstances that had brought them together had been challenging, to say the least. But if there was one thing that V had never questioned, it would be the loyalty of his companions. Well, except one… but that was understandable, all things considered. Just establishing that contract had been challenging.

“Heh. He didn’t call me chicken. How bout that?” Griffon chuckled, obviously genuinely surprised that the older gentleman hadn’t insulted him or something similar. For a moment there he’d wondered how things were gonna go. But as he adjusted his neck and yawned, the avian demon stretched his wings before closing them again, craning his neck over so that he could look V in the face before speaking. “Call me when you get wherever it is you’re going, V. I’ve got a nap to take.”

With that, Griffon dematerialized and returned to his place as sever of V’s many tattoos. V took a moment to adjust his posture before continuing after Gustave, taking a moment to attempt to better assess Sirrus’s current state. And noticing for the first time that his eyes had changed color. Black. Just as they had been that night on the balcony. Just as they had been on the train. Just as they were again now. Now he was concerned.

“What is the veil?” V asked as he took in Sirrus’s current state, gently pulling him along as he opted to continue following Gustave. Something more than a little bit of brain fog was affecting him now, that much was clear.

Upon hearing the question, Gustave let out a soft sigh, slowing to allow the two of them to catch up as he began to round a blind corner. It seemed that he had no interest in losing them and having to track them down in this damned forest. And as Sirrus and V rounded the corner behind him, the young summoner blinked slightly, his eyes struggling to adjust to something he couldn’t quite place. He couldn’t tell if it had just become darker or lighter, but he was nearly blind regardless.

“A part of the darkness that enshrouds this place. The result of what happened here eons ago. Long before your conception. Beyond that of even your grandfather’s era.” Gustave clearly didn’t plan to go further into it than that, at least not for the time being. But still, it was a fascinating thing to ponder. Just how long ago had this happened?

V chuckled at the prospect of that possibility. Yes, this place felt old. He wasn’t even sure how to quantify the age of this place in relation to himself. But even still, could it be that old? After all, a thousand years was old, but over two thousand years? If the stories he’d heard about his grandfather from first-hand accounts and in the myths and legends he’d grown up with were to be believed… then he was unfathomably old. Just like this place. So perhaps that checked out. “So it’s thousands of years old, then? Fascinating.”

Gustave’s tone changed to one of profound perplexment as he glanced over his shoulder at V, seemingly missing the part of the conversation where he’d given any concrete estimate of the forest’s age. Or even ballparked it with a general number. Where had he gotten that figure from? “What would lead you to believe that this forest is that ancient?”

“You said it was older than- “ V immediately stopped speaking, realizing what he might inadvertently give away with that statement. But if the look of perplexed consideration that crossed their escort’s face was anything to go off of, he’d already said quite enough. He didn’t look as though he’d come to a conclusion that satisfied him just yet, but he had certainly tipped him off as to something that was perhaps better kept secret for the time being. He wondered if it was enough for him to deduce via the process of elimination. But then again, he knew nothing of what Gustave knew, or who he knew, for that matter. Hell, he didn’t know virtually anything about him, now that he thought about it. Nothing that mattered, anyway.

“I did not mean that literally, but I think you do.” His tone darkened at that statement, halting both V and Sirrus in their tracks simultaneously. Gustave stopped with them, turning his attention squarely to V as he turned his back on their destination and focused his full attention on the young summoner before him. He looked at him as though he were examining a piece of fine jewelry for the first time, intent on assessing its value. But perhaps not its monetary yield. No, V suddenly got the impression that he held an entirely different significance to the gentlemen that stood before him, and if the utterly baffled look on Sirrus’s face was anything to go off of, he wasn’t alone in sensing a shift in the tides. It seemed that he might finally be snapping out whatever had been going on with him for the past while. But only barely. To say he was lucid would be a bold-faced lie.

“Your summons masked the tells, but I see it now. You are of ancient blood.” Gustave concluded correctly, something that V’s shift in demeanor and the slow closing of his eyes gave away readily as he accepted that he’d walked himself directly into a trap of his own creation. Gustave was right, and he wasn’t going to lie to him and say that he wasn’t.

“Unfortunately, you are once again correct,” V said simply, unable to meet his gaze. This conversation could only go one of two ways and, quite frankly, he wasn’t liking his options either way. He doubted that his escort would outright attack him, but he hadn’t come here to make enemies, either. Especially if they were friends of Sirrus’s. Or at least acquaintances. He wasn’t sure what Gustave and Sirrus were. They could be hated enemies or ex-lovers for all he knew. The dynamic between them was just so… strained.

Gustave shifted on his feet, folding his arms in front of his chest as a faint look of self-satisfaction made its way onto his face. He looked as though he’d just figured out a mystery that had been bothering him for quite some time in much the same way that a person who’d just found that one sock they’d been looking for for the better part of a year did upon finally locating it. Despite being absolutely certain that they’d already searched that exact spot months ago. It wasn’t the look of a person who was bragging or showing off. It was the look of a person who had just had their curiosity piqued and now required further information.

“So tell me, then… Is your grandfather the first human to live to such an unprecedented age in recorded history… or is there a story to your lineage, perhaps.” He obviously knew the answer to that question already. There was no mistaking it. That glint of knowledge in his eyes was a dead giveaway. He was simply waiting for V to put the last piece of the puzzle into its proper place for him. Then perhaps all the things that didn’t quite add up for him finally would and he could close that chapter in this little story of theirs.

V sighed as though he’d just been caught red-handed and knew that he was going to spend the foreseeable future grounded. And he wasn’t too far off, to be fair. Something told him this would be an interesting conversation once Sirrus snapped out of his all-consuming stupor. “I presume you have some idea as to what I am by this point.”

“I have assumptions, which means I have next to nothing as that is what all assumptions are. Largely unfounded nonsense.” Gustave said as he gestured for V to follow him once again, his pace now much more conversational and less exigent than it had been previously. V wasn’t sure entirely why, but he got the impression that there was a reason behind that. Perhaps they were close to their destination?

“Fair enough,” V said with a resigned scoff. He shared that same sentiment, in all honesty. Assuming was always a quick and easy path to the most embarrassing of situations, large and small. No point in arguing there. “You are correct. My grandfather isn’t exactly… conventional. Although I can’t say anything as to his personality. I’ve never had the pleasure of meeting him.”

Gustave glanced over at him momentarily, something in his eyes that he couldn’t place. It reminded him of the way he’d looked at him on the boat. A certain air of something about him that was nearly impossible to discern. Was it perhaps the knowledge that he might be overstepping? Sympathy? He didn’t get the impression that it was either of those things, at least not fully. But either way, they continued onward, their path clear.

“I see.” He said, giving something akin to a polite nod. He didn’t seem keen to ask him what had led to that specific and unfortunate quirk of circumstance. Not only was it not pertinent to the conversation at hand, but it wasn’t the kind of question he was keen to ask. Some things were better left unknown. Private. Within the minds of those to whom those memories and thoughts belonged, unless they decided otherwise. “Are you not familiar with who he is, then?”

V contemplated the pros and cons of telling Gustave the truth for all of about three seconds before deciding that, despite being fairly conflicted about the man overall, he could trust him enough to reveal this particular secret to him. Sirrus would not have introduced him to someone who would harm him over such a revelation. And although Gustave was… well, Gustave, V didn’t get the impression that he was particularly violent. Perhaps inpatient and difficult, but not brutish and brash. He would extend this particular olive branch. And not a single other if he came to regret it. Perhaps he could ask some questions of his own after that.

“... My grandfather is the Dark Knight Sparda.” What a strange thing to say out loud. He knew that it was the truth, but it just didn’t seem real until that moment for some reason. It was an odd thing to admit to someone, including himself. That he was not entirely human. Everyone around him knew as much. Many of them were not human themselves. But even still, it was a strange thing to ponder, much less say to someone else. Perhaps the nature of Dante’s small inner circle of companions made more sense than he’d originally thought, now that he thought about it. “The one from all the legends and tales, though I cannot corroborate any of the details therein, or vouch for their authenticity. You would have to ask my father about that. Or my uncle, his younger brother. They are his children. They would know better than I do.”

Gustave suddenly slowed to a rapid stop, his shoes clicking against the ground beneath him. V barely registered the fact that they were no longer walking on the wooden path that had guided them thus far. Now they stood on stone. Moss-covered stone, but stone nonetheless. And as he waited with bated breath for the response of the man who stood before him, a thousand mixtures of emotions began to overflow from within him, something he did his very best to conceal. Instant regret. Hesitance. He was on guard now. This had the potential to turn deadly. He should have thought this through. He didn’t want to know what it felt like to be on the other end of a gun that rendered him motionless and pushed him to the brink of insanity from the sound of its shots alone. And what of Sirrus? Even if he wasn’t caught up in the crossfire, he certainly didn’t deserve to be mixed up in this. Oh no. What had he just done?

Looking at him in utter silence, Gustave didn’t move an inch. Even his breathing was rendered imperceptible as he seemed to consider something. V could tell that he was thinking, but his expression left everything up to his imagination. He could just as easily brush off his statement with disinterest as he could move to end him, and he would be equally unsurprised by either outcome. And that uncertainty combined with the older gentleman's general aura of vagueness and his general inability to be read only heightened the sense of unease that V now harbored deep in his gut. He felt every hair on his body stand up on end as he pondered his next move. He would not attack first, but he had to be physically and mentally prepared for the possibility that an attack could be coming. This was the worst place he could think of for that to happen, but it was too late to do anything about that now. He would have to play with the cards that had been dealt to him. There was no simply other way.

Registering the change in the atmosphere between them and the blanket of unease so thick that it could suffocate a raging inferno, Gustave changed his expression ever so slightly. He curled an eyebrow and let out a very soft scoff before opening the inside of his coat and reaching for something. V didn’t move, waiting to see what the older man did so that he could attempt to come up with some method of counteracting it, his focus as intense as it was unwavering. Everything seemed to happen slower than before as his focus intensified. Every sound seemed louder and clearer, every flicker of light or movement more noticeable in his hyper-aware state. He felt the hue of his eyes shift in the darkness but he paid it no mind, his only thought being that of survival should the worse come to pass. He only hoped he wasn’t putting Sirrus in harm's way.

Withdrawing his hand from within his coat, he revealed some sort of amulet. A series of circles encircling one another overlapped by a pair of feathered wings that formed an X over the circle’s center which seemed to be comprised of a clear white gemstone of some sort. It was pearlescent, round, and just barely opaque enough to not see completely through, but light came through it regardless. Or perhaps from within it? It almost seemed to work as a sort of flashlight, only it had started to glow just as Gustave had fixed his coat back into place, revealing no further intention to do anything else. At least for the time being. Perhaps it was reacting to something V could not see.

After raising the amulet up into the air above them, he lowered it, looked into it, and turned his attention back towards V, his own admittedly rigid body language loosening somewhat, even if only slightly. It seemed that V wasn’t the only one on edge. And even with that acknowledged, V was still struggling to relax even a little. He couldn’t place what it was about Gustave that put him so on edge. It was as if he were instinctually repulsed by him or something; some core part of his being utterly provoked by his very existence. Every time he did something even slightly outside of the young summoner’s comfort zone, it made his skin crawl, activating his fight-or-flight instinct in a way that was uniquely unpleasant, even by V’s standards. And as he stood there and looked at the older gentleman who stood before him, an epiphany hit him like a tilde wave of ice water on a freezing winter day. A revelation that was as sudden as it was perplexing and disquieting. It felt like a dam had just burst within him and unleashed a swirling torrent of knowledge that he hadn’t known it held back. 

It wasn’t the human part of him that felt put out by Gustave, he realized. It was his demonic side.

On a personal level, he wasn’t all that bothered by the man who stood before him. But his demonic blood practically boiled just from his presence alone. Ever since he’d realized that Gustave could use that weapon and that it had such a profound effect on him, the demonic part of him was wholly unable to overcome its own gut instincts, and none of them were positive. He was fighting himself just as much as he was fighting the urge to fight Gustave in his own conscious mind. He didn’t dislike Gustave… but hell, whatever consisted of the quarter of his DNA that was demonic certainly did. Venomously. Venimantly. Unyielding. He was glad this was something he now had conscious knowledge of… but why?

“You are the son of the eldest son of the Dark Knight Sparda?”

Gustave’s statement took him completely off guard. Neither of them had moved for over a minute, the two of them simply standing and staring at one another in silence, awaiting an action that neither of them would take if the other didn’t act first. Gustave was perceptive enough to notice the shift in V’s demeanor, just as the young summoner had been towards him, but despite the fact that both of them seemed to be more or less the same level of deeply uncomfortable all of a sudden, they were both smart enough to realize that their reasons for feeling that way differed and they both silently came to the conclusion that neither of them meant harm towards the other, even if it certainly felt like it for a moment there. They began to relax slightly, letting down their guards. There would be no fight. There was no need. They hadn’t crossed that line. Not yet, at least.

“... Yes. I am.” V said as calmly as he could, actively suppressing the part of himself that fueled that rage, that desire within him to continue to amp up his fight or flight instincts in preparation for a battle that wasn’t coming. He was starting to become somewhat irritated with himself, if he was being honest. He didn’t like feeling like this. He wasn’t in danger, he told himself. He truly believed that, but a part of himself just refused to accept that. To believe that. And it had never been as vocal as it was now.

“That would make you his direct bloodline heir, then.” Gustave seemed to ponder the gravity of that reality, his own words slowing ever so slightly as he reached the end of that statement. His surprise was as evident as it was undeniable. He’d clearly expected to hear something out of the ordinary, but he obviously hadn’t considered that to be a possibility. Not even remotely. They resumed walking in silence for another minute or so before he seemed to fully compose himself, returning to his stoic and more or less unreadable state. That had certainly been a surprise. Their pace was slower, but they were making progress now, at least. “Sparda was a singular individual. Truly a being of legend. One worthy of the legends told of his exploits. I imagine that is quite the legacy to be a part of. Quite the burden to be beholden to. I imagine you know no peace.”

“I may be suffering the ill effects of that right now.” V practically grumbled under his breath, irritated with himself in a way that he hadn’t been in quite some time. He glanced back over at Sirrus, his companion’s state still the same as it had been. He’d seemingly improved for a second, but he’d regressed now. It was clear to see. And upon realizing this, something in V simply… stopped. The feelings that he’d been so overcome by moments ago softened noticeably and he felt nothing but concern for his friend in that moment. He’d been so angry, and now he only felt sorrow and a flood of emotions he couldn’t properly perceive, his eyes brimming with unspent tears as he felt a wave of utter terror overwhelm him. He felt like he hadn’t been himself now for far too long.

What… What was happening to both of them? What kind of hold did this terrible place have on the both of them?

Stepping towards Sirrus, V rested his hand on his friend’s shoulder for a moment as he looked down at the ground, closing his eyes as he grounded himself. He felt tense, irritable; short of breath. Now this wasn’t a sensation he enjoyed feeling. Not since his time in Redgrave City had he felt like this. Not since he’d relived Vergil’s trauma in his own broken state. A state he’d spent so much of his own life in. And it always came with this sudden, building realization that something was just off. Even when he’d found relative peace in his teenage years, he’d still felt so disconnected and unsure, ever wondering when his visions, his nonstandard viewpoint on reality would come back around. And they never had. Until they did. He’d seen things that weren’t visible to others around him back in that city. Back in Redgrave City. And he’d thought himself crazy, but now he knew that wasn’t the case. Perhaps this was worse in a way? Because now he had to face it… No. He could face it. The difference was that now he could. He was no longer that scared child. And he refused to be ever again.

The reality that what he saw was real was disquieting, but he would own that fear. He would face that reality. And he would concur it. He just needed to know how. That was what had brought him here, after all. He didn’t desire to grow stronger. He desired the proficiency to no longer be afraid of… himself. Of what he was capable of. He wanted that kind of freedom, and he only knew one way to get it. He’d tasted it before when he’d taken the chains off against Belial. He wanted to know how to face his own power without fear that it would consume him. And something told him that could only be achieved through some degree of proficiency, if not mastery, if what he was capable of. That seemed to be a trend he’d witnessed within his family. Only through acceptance of one's power could you control it, and only through that came some form of equilibrium. He couldn’t run from his demons. He was a demon, literally and figuratively. He had to conquer them. Like it or not, he was going to have to at least try. It was his only chance. He just wondered if he could handle that. If he was physically and mentally ready. And there was only one way to know for sure. But he liked to think he was ready to find out. 

… Maybe he should talk to Nero… 

But first…

“What is wrong with Sirrus?” Gustave was a direct person. He seemed like he preferred direct answers to his questions. Perhaps the inverse was also true. Maybe he should just ask him what it was that he wanted to know about Sirrus. There was no denying that something was happening to him. Neither of them were clueless enough to not notice.

Gustave took notice of V’s change in tone. He was clearly still struggling with a myriad of things internally, but he’d subdued them for the time being, his focus on something more immediate and tangible to him. His friend. He needed to know that Sirrus was alright. That he would be alright. And right now he didn’t. And that was unacceptable to him.

“The Veil. It fluctuates constantly. It was caused by the intermingling of Inferno and Paradiso. We stand in the null zone at its core. The Void. It is one of the rare places where the two dimensions bleed into one another… “ Gustave paused for a moment before continuing, seemingly considering whether or not he should say anything further. “And one of the rare places where Sirrus’s duel nature becomes most problematic.”

“How so?” V asked, genuinely intrigued as to how the place they stood in could be affecting his friend so negatively. He could tell it was having a negative effect on them both, but having some details would be beneficial. At least, he hoped it would be.

“It affects everyone negatively, typically in regards to your emotional state. Something I gather you’ve just experienced. Extended exposure to the void takes training. You must build a tolerance to it but… “ He stopped speaking, his pupils moving subtly from side to side as though he were checking to see if he was being watched. He stepped just a bit closer, within whispering distance as he lowered his voice to a noticeable but not imperceptible degree, speaking quietly like one might in a library, but not whispering. “How much do you know about his parentage?”

V blanched. He… hadn’t expected to be asked a question of that nature. Did they have something to do with this place? He knew nothing of the limits of their power. He barely knew what they were. And considering the things that people in his family were capable of doing or had previously already attempted or succeeded in doing, he wasn’t willing to put anything out of the realm of possibility anymore.

“Enough to know that I am not fond of his parents,” V said plainly. It was the honest truth. He hoped to never meet them. They didn’t seem like the kindest folks, even when measured against his own previous opinions of his own family when he’d first met them. He’d held drastically different opinions about his entire immediate family when he’d first met them, but he’d never disliked any of them the way that he did Sirrus’s parents. He’s mostly just been frightened of their potential to kill him should they wish to or mildly frustrated that he had to work with them. Something both. But those feelings had quickly fallen by the wayside as soon as he’d gotten to know them. Vergil had taken more time for obvious reasons, but Nero had grown on him almost instantly, and Dante was just Dante. He had no negative feelings to account for when it came to his uncle. 

It was rare that he held such a strong opinion about people that he’d never met, but there were certain things that were utterly unforgivable, and Sirrus’s previous statements about them were enough to go off of, as far as he was concerned.

“Then you know enough,” Gustave said, his tone filled with discontent. His speaking volume didn’t change in any noticeable way, but he was still obviously displeased about something that V was not privy to. Not yet, at least. But something told him that he was about to find out.

Gustave looked at him closely, perhaps evaluating the necessity of what he was about to say. But after a moment, he sighed softly and adjusted the collar of his shirt, perhaps more out of discomfort than an actual need to. Was that his one tell, V wondered to himself. He didn’t seem to have any others that he’d noticed. Was he uncomfortable?

“His parents knew of the turmoil that his birth would bring. Of the fundamental natural order it would violate…” His tone darkened ever so slightly, his volume staying the same if not increasing ever so slightly as he glanced over at Sirrus, a look of consideration crossing his face as he almost appeared to seem sorrowful for a moment. It seemed that he didn’t like to see him in such a state. Had that been his reason for not checking on him at any point earlier in their journey, perhaps? “Of the ceaseless torment that he will experience every waking moment until his end. The tightrope he constantly walks is unfathomable. I do not wish that he’d never existed in the first place or that he’d been otherwise taken care of after his creation, but I do hold contempt for his suffering.”

Gustave had succeeded in garnering interest from the young descendant of Sparda, a look of confused concern making its way onto his face. He recalled Sirrus speaking less than fondly about his upbringing and parentage but… “Elaborate, please.”

He stopped to consider his next words carefully, his eyes not leaving Sirrus until he was certain in regards to what he deemed appropriate to reveal to V, especially without knowing how much Sirrus had already told him. He’d not been there for their other conversations, but if V already knew about his less-than-favorable relationship with his parents, then he doubted Sirrus would object to what he had to say. He probably would’ve told him himself if the scars hadn’t cut him so deeply. It was a hard topic to speak of for very obvious reasons, and the adjudicator didn’t do so lightly.

“Even by the standards of a bloodline such as your own, his blood inherently conflicts with itself in a way so unprecedented that I dare say you know very little of the absolute hell he has endured to gain any semblance of the functionality you know him to possess. Humans are seen by demons and angels alike as prey, and as such human blood strengthens those with mixed heritage of one or the other. Typically.” Gustave leaned in closer, his tone lowering just as his voice did, a sparkle of something utterly incomprehensible in his eyes as he spoke. There was a gravity to his presence and words that was undeniable. He spoke the truth, and nothing but. As awful as that truth might be. “But demons and angels hate each other. With very little exception. Viciously. More than perhaps anything in this universe does. And his blood reflects this. One side of his nature is always vying for control, making a stalwart effort to destroy every molecule of his being that is not of its nature. His nature shifts with the moon and the sun, and in this place specifically, the constant uneven fluctuation is enough to drive one mad on a primal level. Even worse than the effect my ward had on you back in town.”

“... His parents knew this would happen to him?” V’s tone was a mixture of horror and disbelief. The idea that they had known that they would be bringing this fate upon their own child… and had chosen to subject him to it. He understood that their desire for a child might have simply been that powerful, but to think that Sirrus had essentially been cursed from the moment of conception by his bloodline alone was horrifying. Had they simply thought that his suffering could be mitigated? That there might be a chance to save him from his own nature? That was simply tragic to consider. He didn’t deserve such suffering. Had they actually been that sure that they could overcome any difficulties he presented, or were they simply that indifferent to the possibility?

“I dare say they did. They had designs to cull this aspect of his nature, but it is a fool who thinks they can bend a will as strong as his to anything, let alone their flimsy desires.” A soft, almost fond chuckle escaped Gustave’s lips as he regarded the man with the mostly red hair, shaking his head ever so slightly. “No, Sirrus continues to exist in the state of mind that he does because he is too strong to break and too willful to be commanded by even his own inherently cursed blood, and anyone who dares say otherwise is a fool. His bloodlust alone should have driven him to madness by now, yet here he remains. At least somewhat sane, if not clutching the last remnants of his sanity by the purse strings. I almost pity him. But he would seethe at the very notion.”

“They knew with absolute certainty that Sirrus would be cursed?” V was admittedly reiterating that to himself more than anything else, but Gustavestill noticed, shaking his head ever so slightly. He cleared his throat, looking down at the item he’d been clutching in his hand as if it were a clock that he was checking. He didn’t seem pressed. Just conscious of the ever-flowing passage of time in a way that V currently wasn’t.

“Perhaps I should rephrase that. His father knew. A clever if not entirely morally corrupt omission of his. He concealed his true nature from her until after Sirrus’s birth when it became undeniably clear. He left out that little detail when planning his conception with Sirrus’s mother. She wouldn’t have gone for that should she have known. And he knew that. But he picked her for the purity of her bloodline, and not for any other reason. Something she discovered much too late. And something Sirrus has been made to suffer immensely for his entire life.” Gustave shook his head, a look of distaste appearing upon his face. It seemed that V’s assumption that Gustave had known Sirrus for a long time was correct. But for how long was still a mystery to him. But to think… 

So that was what Sirrus had meant when he’d previously said that he was the result of a sort of eugenics project… 

No wonder he’d tried so hard to warn Aluta… The helplessness he must have felt watching her become his next victim… The guilt and anger that must have overtaken him when he hadn’t succeeded. V felt a cold shiver crawl up his spine. Sirrus… 

How did he still have even an ounce of humanity left in him? How did Sirrus still have the compassion and empathy to show V such unwavering friendship despite the cruelty he’d no doubt been shown for much of his own life? How had he managed to be there for him despite such inner turmoil? The day of peace they’d just shared with one another suddenly felt more special than it ever had, and it was even more meaningful than he ever could have imagined. Sirrus had needed that day off just as much as he had. Now he understood more than ever while a simple bottle of wine as a potential gift from either of his parents had been enough to reduce him to tears. To render him nearly immobile. He’d never known true love from his parents. Not even once. Only manipulation. He was a shared pawn that they both utilized as a means to an end.

V gestured towards the object that Gustave held. Judging by his unwillingness to put it away, the summoner was willing to guess that it was important. Anything to change the subject at this point. His sadness towards the unfathomable quantity of horror Sirrus had been forced to endure was disheartening, to say the least. “And that device?”

“A compass of sorts. Used to find the core of the veil. As I said, it fluctuates. All the more reason to stay on schedule. We chart its movements in much the same way a meteorologist would. But navigating it is still… treacherous.” He held up the device, pivoting in a circle as he seemingly searched for something unseen, much to the white-haired summoner’s curiosity. “That is why I am here, after all. If you could come here without an escort, why wouldn’t you?”

“Fair,” V said as he watched Gustave continue to scour the area around them. Moments later, the older man lowered the device, focusing his attention on something in the middle distance before raising it once more and proclaiming something loudly in a dialect that V could not properly comprehend. Considerably louder than his normal speaking volume, in fact. So much so that V physically stepped back when he began his invocation, suddenly uncomfortable standing so close to him. He was willing to bet that it was more Enochian, but he had no way of being completely sure.

Opting to take inventory of Sirrus’s current state, V stepped towards him, gripping his forearm gently and bringing him over closer to the both of them. He seemed to still be very much in his trance, his eyes still just as blank as they had been the majority of their trip. He was probably going to need help finding his way. He just seemed tired.

Just as V pulled Sirrus closer, the space before them was ripped open, a gust of staggeringly strong wind nearly knocking them off of their feet. Gustave didn’t budge, gesturing for them to follow him through the tear before them, and not in a way that indicated that they should do so at their leisure. It seemed that he’d found the proper point of entry with his compass after all.

Stepping through, they were greeted by utter silence. Not quite as severe as one might experience if they stepped into a soundproof room, but something similar. Their footsteps actually echoed slightly as they took their first steps against the moss-covered stone-paved ground. Ah, so that had been how Gustave had found his way. The changing of the pavement had probably been a dead giveaway. It had been the thing that led them to this large circular clearing in the woods, the sky above them glittering in unknown shades of dark pink, vibrant reds, ominous purples, stark scarce blues, and black. Utterly pitiless black. He didn’t even need to ask if they were still in the human world. It was obvious that they had transcended that plain of existence and gone somewhere else. Somewhere not quite known to him. Something primordial and cold.

“There are different segments of the Void. They are not connected to one another.” Gustave said, perhaps guessing at what V might be thinking. He wasn’t far off, but V wasn’t all that focused on his environment at the moment. Sirrus’s eyes appeared to be changing back to their normal hue, even if it was at a snail's pace. He had just blinked for the first time in what seemed like forever. And a moment later, he audibly shivered. 

Shaking noticeably, he seemed to gradually be snapping out of the trance he’d been in, perhaps due to the shift in the environment. A look above them revealed that the sun and the moon had eclipsed one another and that they were now nearly indistinguishable, seemingly unmoving. They probably held about as much sway over him here as they would if he were inside of a building with no line of sight or a roof over his head. And if his sudden, labored breathing and full body quivering was anything to go off of, that was a welcome respite, indeed. He looked as though he were breathing fresh air again for the first time in ages. Like he’d been locked in a dark, airless place and had forgotten what it felt like to be free and to feel the breeze upon his skin again. It was delightful to behold.

V couldn’t resist the urge to crack a small genuine smile. “Welcome back.” He said softly. 

He didn’t know if Sirrus understood him, but if the way he looked in his direction was anything to go off of, he’d heard him at the very least. Sirrus reached down and closed his eyes for a moment as they continued, using his right arm to grip V’s, the same arm that the summoner had been using to guide him along. More out of a need for reassurance than guidance. Even in his current state, he knew that V wasn’t going to lead him astray. And if he did, at least he wouldn’t be alone.

But as V turned his attention away from Sirrus, what stood before them certainly caught his eye.

A large stone mountain jutted out of the forest before them, easily thousands of feet tall. It was jagged, almost as though it had pulled away from something or been sheared clean off of a larger structure by some unknown force eons ago. It went up so far that the top seemed to disappear into the clouds, although even those seemed lower than normal, if only by a small margin. The air didn’t feel as thick there. Perhaps they were at a high elevation?

That was when V noticed the structure built into the mountain. A tiered fortress of some sort but half into the mountain, overgrown with moss and plant life in much the same way as the stones they trod to reach their destination. A long bridge that they now crossed led them from a stone structure of some sort -seemingly a doorway or arch similar to the stone altar he’d they’d seen back in Lympha before departing to fight the devil prince- having served as a conduit for the tear they’d entered through. He tried not to look down, knowing that to be foolish. He wasn’t a fan of extreme heights. But after seeing the bottomless abyss that reflected the sky above them looming below, he knew for certain he would never look down again. The abyss was so deep that even the colossal waterfalls that carved a path down the mountain before them couldn’t reach the bottom, seemingly falling into eternity. He couldn’t see the top or the bottom of the waterfall, and something about that was uniquely disconcerting.

After what felt like an eternity of walking, they made their way up what felt like several stories of stone stairs, an exercise in repetition that V thought might finally rob him of his ability to walk. As they reached the front door, a towering structure composed of impossibly heavy carved stone, V couldn’t help but wonder what had possessed Gustave to work here in the first place, let alone to come all that way just to meet them and escort them back here. But at least the strange overgrowth of the canal they’d traveled up to get here and the dense woods now made more sense. Everything here seemed to be similarly overgrown from what he could tell. It would be positively whimsical if not for the ominous, foreboding, and frankly flat-out creepy atmosphere that the entire place exuded. V hadn’t felt that put off of entering a structure since he’d stepped into the entrance to the Qliphoth and had a vivid vision of a giant skull leering down over him and seen and felt the hands of the damned attempt to drag him down into the floor with him. 

He paused for breath for a moment, utterly taken aback by the entire structure. If Griffon had gotten bad vibes from the forest, then he was going to hate this place. But as the door slid back into the mountain and rolled to one side in much the same way that the entrance to the tunnel back in the city had, he knew he couldn’t go back. If there might be someone worth seeing who resided here, then he had to proceed. Even if every fiber of his being screamed in terror at the very sight of this place. He’d come too far to give up. That and the prospect of telling Gustave “Thanks anyway, but I’ve changed my mind” and leaving now was paramount to asking to be the victim of first-degree murder. 

“I have not done this much explaining of things long since passed in quite some time. What a trip down memory lane this has been.” Gustave made no effort to hide the discontent that he made that statement with. He spoke those words as though he’d just tasted something unpleasant. Their entire conversation had clearly been a trip down the unpleasant side of memory lane for him, and he was eager to change the subject. He bowed politely, more to the benefit of their unseen benefactors than for anyone else, his introductions to his traveling companions having long since been made. He then stood up and gestured up the staircase before them. There was a grand staircase, curved and covered in vines. Presumably, a resting area of sorts was to be found at the top. Or, at least someone who could escort them to one. “If you have any further questions, please direct them towards Sirrus once he fully awakens from his stupor. Welcome to the house of Nihil. Make yourself comfortable. Something tells me you will be here a while.”

With that, Gustave excused himself for the time being and disappeared through a doorway to their left, vanishing in a puff of multicolored smoke. It seemed that the doorway had been a portal of some sort. That made sense. Otherwise, there would be an unfathomable amount of stairs in this horrendous place. V shuddered at the thought of even trying to walk up the hundreds of flights of stairs that would require.

But as he stepped forward, he felt Sirrus’s grip on his arm tighten ever so slightly. Not enough to be uncomfortable, but just enough to be noticeable. He’d barely been able to feel his grip at all before. V turned and faced his companion, noting that for the first time since they’d entered the forest, his eyes were their usual stark gray again. He’d seemingly snapped out of his previous state, his grip on him more to ground him than anything else given the circumstances.

And Sirrus looked utterly and entirely confused. Not to mention flustered. He clearly didn’t remember much of what had just happened, if he’d been cognizant enough to hear what they’d been talking about at all. But if the shift in his expression was anything to go off of, he certainly recognized where he now stood. And he looked just as displeased to be there as V felt looking at the place. Obviously, he’d known their destination, but it was clear that he didn’t want to be here any longer than necessary either way.

Sirrus then looked over at V, the tired look in his eyes fading to a barely noticeable degree as they lit up at the sight of his friend. Despite it all, he even managed to crack a small smile. He looked genuinely glad to see V, their current location be damned.

“Hello, V. Sorry if I frightened you, mo chara daor... What did I miss?”

(-~-)

A few little tidbits!

If you’ve not read Visions of V, yeah, there is a part in there where V has some super missed-up visions as described above. It’s chapter 15 if you are wondering. It’s free online! It accidentally/unintentionally corroborated some of my ideas for V since I wrote those chapters before that chapter came out, which was cool!

I wonder if I’ve ever said this directly in one of these notes before. Probably in the comments, but I figured I would just in because it’s fun to discuss stuff like this, and why not? This is already 22 pages long LOL!

I like to think V is similar to Vergil but still different. They are on different paths by this point, but they are still similar. V is realizing that he is not as helpless as he was made to feel his whole life, trying to harness the power he felt he never had that was within him all along, practically bursting at the seams to be set free. And Vergil is no longer looking to other sources of external power. He's finally realizing that he’s enough. And that desire for power and usefulness can be found in other tasks just as worthy of his time. Like helping to repair his broken family as best as he can. Nero has found his sense of purpose and somewhat overcome his own insecurity about himself and what he believes he is, although he's still a work in progress. I think he needs some intrinsic personal fulfillment for himself that isn’t rooted in how others view him since his childhood sucked canonically. Maybe hanging out with V could help… Then he will finally fully he understands how truly awesome he is. He needs to prove to himself that he’s not Deadweight, once and for all. But he's like 90% of the way there, so good for him! I think patching things up with Vergil has certainly helped. But he’s still gonna roast his old man every now in then! Who would he be if he didn’t? And Dante... well, he's just happy to have a family again. Give him some time. He's working on it. ALL OF IT. He’ll get there!

Ahem. I hope you liked this chapter! Gosh, it was such a marathon to write, but in a good way. Truthfully, due to the holidays, I’m not totally sure I’ll be able to upload a chapter next week, But you better believe I’m going to try because I’ve been having a blast writing recently and I want to keep up that same momentum as long as I can! I’ve got inspiration! So yeah, hopefully, I’ll see you next Friday on the 24th, but if not, then I will let you know! Let me know what you think in the comments, and I’ll see you soon! Happy holidays if you have any coming up (Shout out to Native American Heritage Day here in the US! Yay!), and take care! Thanks for reading! Bye bye!

[anxiousgaypanicking]

Dirty Talk

!a series of me uploading the kinktober fics/drabbles i made years ago because i didnt back in 2020 for some fuckin reason. if these are bad/poor quality its because theyre old, and ive improved since then :)!

Roceit (Roman x Janus) Day 29: dirty talk Warnings: degradation, blowjobs, leg humping

"How long will the others be out?" Roman asks, eyes turned towards the front door. Outside, rain poured, and every once in a while lightning struck, momentarily illuminating the otherwise dark living room.

The television was on, playing a movie that Roman had seen many times before, but it hardly provided much light during the current scene - one more dark and gritty. Roman craved the return of the sweet scenes with colour and light, so he'd suffer through the dark with a pout until they came on again.

Janus was curled up on the other side of the couch, a blanket draped over his lap, and a book in hand. Roman recognized it as one of Logan's books, identified easily by the sticky notes peaking out from between pages, no doubt covered in small lettering identifying parts of the book that Logan deemed interesting or noteworthy. Leaning forward slightly, Roman attempted to catch a glimpse of the title, but he couldn't manage.

"All Patton said was that they'd be back tonight," Janus responds, voice smooth as he flips a page. "Judging by how bad the storm has gotten, they might not even decide to do that. Virgil probably started freaking out the moment lightning struck."

"Do you think they're going to get a hotel?"

Janus sighs, as he closes the book over his thumbs, preserving his spot. "I don't know, Roman."

"Do you think we should call them and-"

Before Roman has the opportunity to finish his question, Janus shifts his position on the couch and kicks Roman's leg, Roman dramatically curling up into a ball and saying "ow! Meanie!" He's pouting, as he rubs the spot on his leg Janus had kicked, but Janus just rolls his eyes and sets the book on the coffee table, turning back to Roman entirely.

"Can you hush?" Janus states, as he stretches. After sitting idle for a long period of time, his body ached. "The others are probably fine. Pay attention to your movie or something; quit worrying about them." Upon seeing Roman's pout, Janus specifies "or at least quit vocalizing your worry. It's frankly quite annoying."

Roman whines out a protest, before he dramatically slumps over onto Janus's legs entirely. "But the movie is boring right now," he says, bottom lip jutted out in a point. "And I'm bored!"

Usually one of the others is able to distract him or entertain him for quite a bit of time, and even when they aren't around Roman can usually get wrapped up in his work to the point where he leaves Janus alone.

But, it seems that his wish for peace and quiet wouldn't be granted, as Roman whines and complains about a lack of stimuli while lightly pounding on Janus's legs similarly to the way a child would throw a tantrum.

"Pity," Janus hisses, as he kicks Roman away from his legs, before curling back up into a ball. His blanket had been discarded due to the movement, but before he could reach for it and toss it back over his lap, Roman crawls over the couch and fully rests his upper half on Janus's lap.

Janus never understood why Roman was so affectionate, even while complaining and pouting, and he didn't exactly know how to react. Pushing him off again would only result in Roman crawling back, despite the fact Janus didn't care that he was bored, and could honestly do without all the touching.

"Janus!" Roman whines, before he rubs his head against Janus's stomach, nuzzling him close in an attempt to cuddle him. Janus can't deny that he's very much enjoying the pure heat radiating of of the other, but he still let out an annoyed scowl as Roman then pleads "please, entertain me?"

With a scoff, Janus combs his hands through his own hair, clearly annoyed. However, knowing that Roman wouldn't quit bothering until he did, Janus sits up fully, stretching in an attempt to soothe the ache in his body from sitting still for so long.

Roman, sensing he'd convinced him, sits up fully too, excited by whatever idea Janus had or will come up with.

"What's your colour?" Janus asks, as he brushes off his lap, making it seem like Roman had some sort of disease that made Janus want to wipe away any potential germs. Roman flushes at his words, though, and ends up shyly looking away.

"Oh- oh. I didn't realize you'd want to do something so... so..." Roman stammers over his thoughts, clearly unsure of how to process the fact Janus wanted to do something sexual. "Well, to be frank, I didn't realize you wanted to have sex." His voice turns into a whisper as he nears the end of his sentence, clearly flustered by Janus's implications, but it just makes Janus roll his eyes.

"I take it that's a 'no,' then?" Janus asks, as he reaches for his book, although Roman immediately exclaims "no! I mean, no, that's not a no. Let me start over!"

He draws in a deep breath, desperately trying to will away the blush on his face, while also trying to sort out his thoughts, before he says "my colour is green. I just was caught off guard. Having sex is not what I expected to do tonight."

"And it's not what we'll do tonight," Janus replies, rolling his eyes yet again. "I'm not really in the mood to fuck you senseless." Roman's face turns a darker shade of red at Janus's bluntness, and he's convinced Janus phrased it that way on purpose judging by the way his lips quirked up in a smirk.

Roman scoots ever closer, staying cautious in case Janus decides to fluster him further, but Janus finally lets himself grin.

"I was thinking, how about you suck me off and shut up for a bit, and maybe, if I'm feeling up for it, I'll even let you come." Janus speaks smoothly, with confidence and smugness dripping from his words, and he pushes himself forward so that he's on his knees, face to face with Roman fully. He drags a finger under Roman's chin, and Roman leans forward, as if following it, eyes staring intensely into Janus's, much to Janus's delight.

Before Roman can even process what's happening, he's is sliding onto the floor, seemingly pleased with Janus's idea. He's nodding, still flustered, as he rambles "yeah- okay. Okay, that seems fun." It did seem fun. It wasn't what Roman was expecting by any means, but he asked for something to entertain him, and Janus was sweet enough to deliver.

Janus guides Roman to kneel between his legs, as he gracefully unbuttons his pants and tugs his boxers down just enough to pull out his cock.

He gives it a few strokes in order to work it to full hardness, and when he notices Roman staring, the words "what, see something you like, slut?" slip out of his mouth, sounding just as casual as if Janus was asking any other normal question.

And Roman's face is burning, as he swallows the spit in his mouth. That doesn't seem to satisfy Janus though, as his smirk falls into a slight frown. "I asked you a question, whore. Answer me," he grits out, moments later, and Roman shakes his head slightly, as if snapping himself out of his thoughts.

"Sorry," he apologizes, eyes glancing up at Janus who's looking down at him with intense eyes. Roman looks away, gulping, before he ends up looking back at Janus's cock. "Yeah- yeah I do. I like your cock," he answers, voice quiet and shy; a stark contrast to how loud and boastful Roman normally is. Admittedly, Janus likes how shy and easily embarrassed Roman is when it came to sex. It was different, and honestly quite cute.

"Good boy," Janus purrs, and Roman can't help the shiver of pleasure that courses through his body at the words.

He leans closer, and the tip of Janus's cock traces over his lips, and Roman's quick to open his mouth for it. Janus's cock slides into his mouth, and Roman has to resist moaning as the weight settles on his tongue.

Janus's fingers comb gently through his hair, although his words are a rough contrast, as he groans out "fuck, Roman. I like you so much better with your lips around my cock, like the good little slut you are."

Roman moans around Janus's length, before he takes more of it in, tonguing and sucking around the tip. It really is a mindless task, and it occupies Roman's mouth and gives his tongue something to do. His constant chattering and chewing on pen caps could have easily been replaced by sucking Janus off this entire time.

Maybe he'd ask to do this more often.

Stealing a glance up at Janus's face, Roman can see that Janus is relaxed against the couch, eyes gently closed and quiet moans slipping past his lips as Roman continues to lick and suck at his cock.

Roman takes it as his own pace, swallowing around the length as he leans in closer to take in more. The tip of Janus's cock rubs against the back of his throat, and as he gags, he leans back slightly. With just the tip in his mouth again, Roman's tongue runs over the slit, and Janus's fingers tighten in his hair, before Roman's head is moving back down.

He's taken up a slow pace, but he's focused on pleasuring Janus, and really focusing on the way Janus's cock felt in his mouth.

It's all he could really think about; the taste of precum dripping down his throat makes him moan, and he's quick to swallow what he can and suck eagerly in hopes more will be produced. As he takes in more of Janus's cock, he hums, trying hard not to gag this time. He wants to take it all, and as his nose presses against Janus's pelvic region, Roman can't help but moaning again.

Admittedly, he's hard just from sucking Janus off. His quiet moans are like music to Roman's ears, and he tries to discretely roll his hips against the carpet in hopes of relieving some of uncomfortable ache in his pants. His hands itched to undo his pants and stroke himself, but instead they settled on Janus's thighs, squeezing gently at the skin as he slowly bobs his head on Janus's cock.

It's relaxed, and compared to how rough Roman knew Janus could get, it was a nice change of pace. He was given full control, and was tasked with pleasuring Janus, and he was trying his hardest to do a good job.

"Good boy- my good little whore," Janus breathes, voice smooth and sweet, and Roman's closes his own eyes at the words, taking in the feeling of Janus's cock dragging across his tongue, the hand petting his head like he's a beloved pet, and Janus's words filling his ears. All the senses please him more, and he speeds up his bobbing slightly.

His hands tighten on Janus's legs as Janus moans out "fuck, Roman, I'm close."

It makes Roman shiver with delight, as he focuses primarily on driving Janus to come. His tongue laps over the slit, as he hums every time he fully deepthroats Janus's shaft. One of his hands fall from Janus's thigh, and instead moves to his balls, lightly squeezing and fondling them in an attempt to give Janus added pleasure.

With a light tug to his hair, and a groan of Roman's name, Janus suddenly comes in Roman's mouth. Roman chokes as he pulls back slightly, swallowing what he can in hopes nothing spills out and stains the carpet.

He wipes the remainder off his chin, before looking up at Janus with needy eyes. "Janus- Janus please get me off. I need to come so bad," he pleads, still pathetically humping the ground. Janus stares down at him, as if internally debating whether or not he'll let Roman come today.

With a sigh, though, Janus shifts his position slightly. He takes the time to tuck his cock back into his pants, before he moves one of his legs to rest between Roman's thighs.

"You can hump against my leg," Janus says, as if that's a privilege. "If you don't want to, then you won't be getting off at all tonight."

It was either humiliate himself or be stuck painfully hard and desperate until his boner sadly went away. Weighing both options, Roman found he'd much rather come that have to hold back entirely, so he leans against Janus's leg, face bright red as he very shyly grinds against Janus's shin.

"Ah-ah," Janus tuts, raising an eyebrow as Roman looks up at him. "Be polite, Roman. What do you say?"

Roman doubts his face can get anymore red than it is currently, and he stammers over his word as he looks away from Janus's face, overly flustered. Despite his embarrassment, he still utters "thank you, Janus," which earns Janus combing through his hair and responding with "good boy, Roman."

He keeps his head down and tucked into Janus's leg, whining softly as he gets slightly more confident with his grinding. He's rolling his hips repeatedly against Janus's leg, humping against him like a mutt in heat, and Janus compares him to such too.

"You're loving this, aren't you?" he asks, although it's a rhetorical question. He doesn't expect Roman to answer, and he doesn't want him to either. "Grinding against me like a fucking dog. A stupid bitch. That's what you are; a fucking mutt."

Roman moans at his words, cock leaking in his pants, and he knows he won't last much longer. He's babbling out a mixture of Janus's name and incoherent noises, needing to do something with his mouth now that it's unoccupied again.

"Janus- Janus please," he begs, not exactly knowing what he's begging for. For a less humiliating way to get off, perhaps? Although it doesn't seem like Janus has changed his mind on that, as he starts moving his leg up in an attempt to match Roman's grinds down.

In doing so, Roman's head falls back in a pleased moan, as he grips tighter to Janus's leg. "Please!" he cries, face flushed and hair disheveled from Janus's hand constantly running through his locks, and as Janus admires his pathetic face, he notices that Roman's even drooling.

"Are you close, Roman?" Janus asks, and Roman can really only whine and nod as his forehead rests against Janus's legs. It makes Janus grin just seeing the way Roman's body trembled slightly. So overwhelmed from so little stimuli.

Smiling softly, Janus then purrs "come for me then, slut. Make a mess of your pants like the dirty whore you are."

And, well, Roman can't really disobey. Grinding a bit more against Janus's leg pushes him completely over the edge, and his head lolls back as he lets out a high whine and comes in his pants. He humps against Janus as he rides out his orgasm, before he slumps over completely, breathing heavily.

"Alright, Roman," Janus says, after a moment, causing Roman to look up at him, still breathing heavily. Janus holds his arms out as he moves his leg back, and Roman looks at him confused.

"Come cuddle," Janus then clarifies, rolling is eyes, although it sounds more like an order. It's a demand that Roman is happy to follow. Although somewhat uncomfortable feeling the dampness in his pants, he doesn't hesitate crawling onto the couch with Janus, and nuzzling up against his chest.

After all, they had all the time in the world to cuddle. The rest of the night, anyway, and they could probably manage to shower before the others got home. Hopefully, at least.

[fairweather-fangs]

19, 24

(=ooc, obviously=)

19. How does your OC behave when enraged?

F tends not to get med often, so usually if he's upset it's over something big. F doesn't like to blow up and yell and make a scene, no, he's sneaky. If someone pisses him off they need be prepared for all their suffering to be done in private. His typical revenge scemes usually involve poisoning seeing as he has alot of those at his disposal and a poisoning can be passed off in a number of people. If someone make him really mad he'll probably wait until he's on a mission with them... in which case... they better hope all he dose is hit them with whatever weapon he's carrying because at least they'll be at his mercy, otherwise they should pray that whatever dangers one could expect to see on a mission don't claim them with their partner actively working against him.

It's risky but he gets away with it. The staff rarely suspect him of foul play ang god knows what he'd do to someone who snitches on him.

24. What is an alternative life path your OC might have gone down? How different would their life be if they'd made those decisions?

Before F was in Wammys, he was in Foster care. He had alot of different families so there was alot of times things could have gone differently. For the most part, I think if his life went smoothly and he didn't loose a good portion of his foster parents to assorted incidents, then he probably woukd have attended school normally and probably gone into meteorology, seeing as he had a passion for the weather and climate. But that’s boring so we'll talk about things could have gone really bad (as opposed to his current life which is regular bad.)

One of F's last foster homes was a drug cartel using the foster system to get kids in order to make them run drugs for them. Aside from the drug trafficking, the kids were very well taken care of and given food, their own rooms, toys and advanced home schooling (of course, all of this was to ensure the sytem let them keep all the kids and allowed them to adopt more if they needed) F considered it to be one of his best foster home experiences and quite frankly wishes he could go back.

As a very intelligent child he quickly caught on to the inner workings of the drug trade and ahen he was sent to Wammys, he used his knowledge of drug trafficking to befriend a few okder kids who were the current Wammys House drug dealers. Years later of desperation for extra money, friends and a way to numb his own pain, F is the premier drug dealer of Wammys House.

Now, his days working for drug dealers was cut short as a child after the people runnibg the operation were killed by a rival gang and F was taken back into foster care. The difference here comes with the death of his drug dealing foster parents. Had they not died, it's safe to say F would have wanted to stay with them and eventually become a much more important gang leader. Judging by how a lofe of crime pays off for everyone in the Death Note world by late 2003, I imagine this route involves F having some heart complications later in life (That’s death by notebook if you couldn't tell)

Now had his drug family still died and he choose to retreat into the underworld to continue running drugs, things would definitely be darker. I can't say what exactly would hapoen to him, maybe he'd have to make it on his own, maybe he'd get picked up along they way by someone kind enough to take care of him, maybe whoever finds him wouldn't be so kind. Either way, he still has drug dealing in his future. One the timeline where he has to make it on his own though, I don't see him retaining his mellow, more kind personality and being much more aggressive and cruel. Similar to himself now but only under certain circumstances. Either way, unless he masterminds himself into never beung caught, I still see him being killed by Kira at some point in the future.

[creative-splurges]

Dark Crystal

This is another one of those posts that represents a funny little window in time. In August 2019, to celebrate the release of a new Dark Crystal series on Netflix (since cancelled, of course, because Netflix), an exhibition was held at the BFI in London of props from the new series. Being in central London on a weekday after work, I travelled light, and brought only my little Sony point-and-shoot camera with me to take pictures.

It was a nice enough trip, but it was fraught with all the problems of photographing in a museum exhibit: trying to take pictures in low light through glass that might be dirty or be reflecting light in a troublesome way. This means that throughout this post you’ll find pictures taken at a high ISO, possibly with hints of reflected light. You might even find them not quite being super sharp if you look too closely (please to refrain from looking too closely). If you’re familiar with my normal kit, you’ll also note that the focal lengths are a lot lower than normal as my Sony reports actual focal lengths, not their 35mm equivalents.

One last point of business: I am legendary for my lack of identifying species, and that might possibly extend to the creatures that inhabit the Dark Crystal world. This isn’t helped by the fact that I’ve not watched Dark Crystal since I was a child, and to this day I haven’t seen the new series, because why start a new series that’s already cancelled? Point is I have no idea what almost anything is in this post, but frankly that’s what you should be expecting from me at this point.

Which is to say that I have no idea what the thing in this first picture is, other than an animatronic from the series.

1/400sec, f/2.8, ISO 1250, 12.35mm

The wider shot shows some of the old-fashioned electronics behind it. Well, up its bottom if we’re being precise.

1/100sec, f/2.8, ISO 640, 9.84mm

Then there was this thing in a cage and I have no idea what it is. Look, don’t say I didn’t warn you. You can tell me what they are in the comments i it makes you feel better.

1/50sec, f/2.8, ISO 640, 16.17mm

1/80sec, f/2.5, ISO 640, 10.89mm

There were some props as well, such as this book.

1/60sec, f/1.8, ISO 640, 8.8mm

By it was the prop that painted it, I guess? Might be a good time to remind you this was 2019 and I can’t remember most of this any more.

1/40sec, f/2.8, ISO 640, 13.72mm

We also came across this model, if my memory serves (and that is a tall order at this point) might have functioned as some sort of CGI reference.

1/30sec, f/1.8, ISO 640, 8.8mm

This next photo doesn’t quite do the scale of the prop justice – it was a good six feet tall.

1/800sec, f/1.8, ISO 640, 8.8mm

We soon entered a room featuring a large Skeksis banquet.

1/25sec, f/2.8, ISO 640, 25.7mm

1/20sec, f/2.8, ISO 640, 25.59mm

1/60sec, f/2.8, ISO 640, 23.9mm

1/30sec, f/2.8, ISO 640, 12.06mm

Elsewhere there was also this little one-eyed monster.

1/20sec, f/2.8, ISO 800, 25.7mm

And this similar-looking but more surprised fluffball.

1/6sec, f/2.8, ISO 800, 25.7mm

Then we got to some more humanoid creatures, starting with this one who might be the main character or something. Don’t judge me just because I don’t pay attention.

1/15sec, f/2.8, ISO 800, 25.7mm

And this guy.

1/30sec, f/2.8, ISO 800, 22.95mm

And this girl.

1/25sec, f/2.8, ISO 800, 17.06mm

And these happy looking things.

1/30sec, f/2.8, ISO 800, 22.77mm

1/25sec, f/2.8, ISO 800, 22.38mm

Whoever set up the exhibition had a sense of humour.

1/50sec, f/2.8, ISO 800, 25.7mm

Around them were various props.

1/10sec, f/2.8, ISO 800, 15.94mm

1/10sec, f/2.8, ISO 800, 25.7mm

1/100sec, f/3.5, ISO 800, 14.7mma

Amongst them was this little critter.

1/20sec, f/2.8, ISO 800, 25.7mm

At the end of the exhibition there were what I think either the Big Bad or the wizened elder of the series. First was this guy, clearly a wizened elder, and probably either evil or curmudgeonly.

1/30sec, f/2.8, ISO 800, 11mm

1/40sec, f/2.8, ISO 800, 15.74mm

And then there was this Skeksis, bathed in a brilliant purple light.

1/80sec, f/2.8, ISO 800, 25.7mm

1/80sec, f/2.8, ISO 800, 25.7mm

He sat upon quite an impressive purple throne.

1/80sec, f/2.8, ISO 800, 8.8mm

I know it’s a bit odd to go to an exhibition for a series I didn’t watch, but I’m always interested in behind the scenes stuff. Plus, this was a free exhibition, and one of those things we could just do on a whim back in our child-free days. This was all pre-covid of course, which were different days for everyone.

Still, the pictures came out pretty well for the challenging circumstances, especially the ones of the last couple of characters.

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