#scrutinous scourge

[gangshuffle]

[GANGSHUFFLE]

The Mutinous Cabal

Marvel Capital's crew of self-proclaimed watchdogs. They keep an eye out on whatever's brewing on the city's notorious criminal underbelly- with a little cut of the pie, of course. Gotta keep their heads above water, after all.

Posing as their figurehead is the ever charming and mysterious DEBONAIR DESPOT, an ex-soldier turned vigilante. He's a quiet, dedicated man with the energy of a restless cat. Of course, when you have the ability to see the future, wouldn't that make you restless as well?

The real boss hiding behind the curtain is SCRUTINOUS SCOURGE, the visionary behind Marvel Capital's creation. He's madly in love with his city, and rumor has it he's made a deal with a Terror to secure her flourishing in exchange for his sight. God complex? Seems pretty simple to him!

With their intel guy, COGENT DEALER- a former Dersite agent- and medic turned heavy muscle, HARMONIC BASTION, the Cabal keep the shadows in line and out of the light of day. It's their city.

Team Ace

A gang of dishonorably discharged ex-coppers, teamed up with the goal of cleaning up Marvel Capital's dirty laundry. Little do they know, they've already passed their hero arc. Everyone else starts looking like a villain when you think you're the protagonist, after all.

Leading their rather suspicious charge from the shadows is the obstinate POLEMIC IMAGINEER. They say that cute face hides the wrath of God.

Functioning as the 'man in charge' is ACEPHALOUS DICTUM. But his friends, and his co-workers, and.. Well. Everyone calls him ACE DICK. Tired father of one girl and two grown-ass men.

And every ragtag group needs a poster boy, and for Team Ace that boy is the grown-ass man, PROSAIC STEWARD. He's. Uh. Been in a rough spot since a.. Particular even that happened before he was kicked from the Marvel Capital Police Department.

They seem at odds amongst themselves often with their goals- but when they pose as a threat? Shit just gets REAL.

The Flux

The top yakuza syndicate in the Marvel Capital. Having taken over during a vulnerable time for the city, they've had their claws dug deep into the corner of every block in every district. No gang seems stand a chance against them and their wide array of magical abilities- utlizing Shadow and Temporal magic alike.

The Flux use number based aliases, with their real names mainly unbeknownst to the public. But two in particular send shudders down the spine of even the most notorious oyabun in the city's underworld.

Number Six, DEOR. The big boss himself. A reclusive man who stands firm in his ideals, hellbent on sucking Marvel Capital dry before running it into the ground. Some say he's got a powerful Terror pact- other's claim he's a naturally gifted Green Sun mage. No one's lived long enough to determine for sure which one's true.

Number Seven, YUSHA. Deor's personal lapdog. He's never seen without a smile, nor without his Crowbar. People who know him say he's got an odd air to him, as if he doesn't even know what's going on around him. Regardless, that doesn't stop him from swiftly fulfilling his orders with great efficiency.

This rainbow of thugs will stop at nothing to claim Marvel Capital as their own. It's their land.

City Officials

Every city is only ever as good as the people in charge of it. Luckily for the Marvel Capital, capable hands work hard behind the scenes to keep the place livable for the average citizen- determined to keep the peace. Even if it means occasionally having to play by the Cabal's rules.

The former Mayor, WINDSWEPT VILLAGER, keeps a well trained eye on the city's archives. After an attempt on his life during that left him disabled, he's stepped down from his position. Nevertheless, he continues to work behind the scenes- playing as an informant and confidant for the current Mayor. PEACEKEEPING MAYOR is the current head honcho serving in office. Having been an ex-archagent like Villager, positions of great responsibility (and stress) are nothing new to her. She's a stubborn woman with a who will do anything for the city- going so far as to work with the Cabal to keep as eye on what goes on in the shadows. If the Mayor watches over the city, who watches the Mayor? That duty of course goes to ASSIDUOUS REGIMENT, the head of the City Council's security department. Having failed to protect Villager before, he's sworn to himself to not allow that to happen ever again. He's a stiff, stern figure, but below that tough exterior, he's got a good heart.

The three of them work day and night trying to maintain the balance of the city- but everyday it grows clearer it was made to be less of a home and more of a playground.

[ontdah]

[Was It Worth It?]

Gangshuffle AU Comic

(tw: blood, censored depiction of body part loss)

Why don't we start we start from the beginning?

DD: I suppose there's no other way to start.

DD: I used to be a soldier during the war. I was entirely dedicated to Derse, I followed all my orders- but I ended up exiled regardless of my loyalty. DD: I was an empty husk for months. No purpose, no hope, no goal. DD: I was simply waiting to die.

I'm sorry to hear that. That must've been awful.

DD: I wouldn't wish that despair on anyone. DD: Though, it did lead me to meeting someone.

Oh?

DD: He made me feel alive again.

DD: Here was this man- a Prospitian who was young, and bright-eyed, and full of potential- exiled off to the same island as war criminals, and dissenters, and all manner of depressing lot. DD: His previously hopeful future had been thrown away, and he'd lost seemingly everything, and yet...

Yet?

DD: He was still hopeful. DD: He still had dreams. DD: He had so much determination in him, he was even willing to drag a stranger along to help achieve his goals. You.

DD: Indeed. He saved me from my despair. DD: He became my hopes and my dreams, and my goal. From the moment he pulled me onto the shores of the new island, I swore I'd follow him anywhere. DD: And so I did.

DD: Even when I shouldn't have.

DD: I tore myself apart for this man. DD: I did everything I could to serve him and his goals no matter how much it hurt.

Do you regret it?

DD: ... Some days.

Was it worth it?

DD: For him? DD: He was worth every last nerve ending.

[dyspunktional-leviathan]

✅ Blindness

✅ Likes their blindness

✅ The Grin TM

✅ Blades

✅ Likes to weird people out

✅ Seer

✅ Specifically sees alternate timelines

✅ Potential for a kismesissitude with a blue-blooded eight-ball-themed huge 8itch but it’s not that simple

✅ Also something quite complicated up with a windy powers guy

✅ “Judge, jury and executioner”

I present to you…..

ID: An edit of the talksprite gif for Terezi Pyrope in Alterniabound (Homestuck p.2792) now portraying Scrutinous Scourge — the version of Spades Slick in the Gangshuffle AU (link). He is a thin human with light orange-brown skin, narrow eyes with no visible irises&pupils, and long wavy brown hair with some thin yellow streaks, wearing a white shirt with an unbuttoned collar and rolled up sleeves and a grey kimono with a spade pattern that is let down from his shoulders. He has regular human teeth, but with noticeably sharp canines. Like Terezi with the original sprite, he is holding a cane with one hand and leaning on it with the other. In the gif, he is at first talking with a wide, teeth-showing green on his face, then talking with a frown, still showing just as much teeth, then laughing with his eyebrows raised, then there are two static expressions: what is probably a smirk (no teeth this time) and a >:? expression, in which his mouth is literally replaced with a horizontal question mark shape. /End ID

The last two separately:

[heyiwrotesomethings]

🐉 anon here! I hope you're doing alright! I hope these request won't be too much! Would it be okay if you wrote about Shinobu with a s/o, she/her, who has that dragon tattoo? Possibly a criminal syndicate but wants to leave her family because of how bad they have gotten! The family found her at a younge age and took her in, becoming the imitating woman she is. But what her boss asks of her is too much and not what she wants to do. So she tries to leave and stagger away from the family, meeting Shinobu in the process! She would be seen as a monster, but she really does have a good heart. Maybe even a slow burn with Shinobu? Those are my favorites! While she stays or keeps meeting Shinobu, the family finds her and roughs her up, she kicks thier ass but ends up being taking down. The boss would come in and try to cut her pinkie off, but Shinobu comes in being the badass queen that she is and deals with him herself, and saves her s/o, with a happy ending! Again, I hope this isn't too much to ask! I love your work!

What Is Right

Shinobu Kochou x She/Her Reader

A/N: Here you go, sorry it took so long! I hope it’s alright, I am having trouble with the December requests that are left. 😫 Word Count: 5,640

“Aniki, are you sure about this? Is there really no other way?”

“Of course not,” Akira scrutinized his adopted younger sister, put off by her reluctance, “That cowardly man’s betrayal killed my father, our father.” He hissed, crushing the remains of his cigarette in his hand, ignoring the burn.

“Then, if it’s absolutely necessary, shouldn’t it just be him who has to pay?” (Y/n) risked speaking out against him yet again, “Why kill his family, but leave him be?”

“It sends a message!” Akira shouted, “He’ll know not to fuck with us again. He’ll be forced to confront what he took from me, us. Don’t you understand, (Y/n)? That’s why I’m telling you this.” He grasped her shoulder a little to tightly to be friendly or comforting. “I’m trusting you to bring honor back to this family. That dragon tattoo on your back isn’t just for show, its supposed to mean something. It’s what unites all of us. Otosan loved you like you were his own flesh and blood. If you want this band of misfits, your family, to continue to have a legacy, you will do this.”

“But, they’re only little kids. Not even his wife knows the shady shit he’s dealing in. And it’s not just that… we’ve been pushing away our allies with the decisions you’ve been making in Otosan’s stead—“

“Do you think this is easy?!” Akira shouted again, getting in (Y/n)’s face, she stayed remarkably calm despite this, “I was chosen to make the choices that no one else has the guts to make! This is what has to be done!”

“I just can’t do it, Aniki.” (Y/n) shook her head, “It’s more than and eye for an eye to me. I think you’re asking for too much.”

“You either do this, or you will be marked as a scourge on this family. The family that gave you everything when you had nothing. You think you repaid us for that debt yet?” He asked coldly.

“I doubt I ever could.” (Y/n) murmured, focusing on her breathing to keep a calm appearance, “I’ll… prepare then.”

Akira searched her eyes for a long moment before straightening up again, “Good. Go on, then. I expect results. You have a week.”

“Very well.” (Y/n) bowed before the young man who had used to be so carefree, then got up and took her leave.

***

It had been a couple days since (Y/n) had that meeting with Akira, and she had yet to carry out her mission. She had shadowed the happily unaware family in that time, and it only made the reality of what she had to do even harder.

She was running out of time, only a few more days before her once beloved Aniki would call her back and put her through god knows what for disobeying him. So she decided to do what any decent person tasked with killing a burgeoning family would do, and got wasted. If she couldn’t do it sober, perhaps she could do it drunk.

But of course that plan went south quickly. Instead of gearing herself up for a bloodbath she was drunkenly sobbing in the izakaya. She had never had to kill anyone before, hustle and intimidate, rough-up, sure, but never with the intent to irreversibly maim or kill. The very public moral dilemma (Y/n) was having was finally brought outside when the owner of the establishment cut her off and sent on her way, leaving her to drunkenly stumble down the road alone.

She barely knew where she was, but that didn’t stop her from picking a direction and lumbering away. She didn’t really care where she’d end up. She wasn’t going to be welcomed back to the family unless she had carried out her job, and she just couldn’t bring herself to do it. She knew she’d never be able to go through with it.

“What am I supposed to do?”

Her foot rolled over a pebble as she said this and unable to correct herself, she fell sideways, half in the path, half in the woods. Instead of attempting to get up, she just laid there. Not long after her tumble, she heard the crunch of gravel from the main path, the sound eventually coming to a stop right where she had fallen.

“Oh dear, have we had a little too much to drink tonight?”

(Y/n) managed to sit up on her elbows a bit so she could peer back into the path and her breath caught in her throat. Standing over her was a downright ethereal woman. Oh no, had she hit her head on a jagged rock on the way down? Had she died? Well, that put an end to one dilemma at least.

“Woah,” She said, oh so eloquently, “beautiful.”

“Oh my, thank you.” She chuckled, causing (Y/n)’s heart to stutter. “Here, give me your hands, let me help you up.”

(Y/n) didn’t need to be asked twice, she took hold of the strangers hands, a little more calloused than she would have imagined, and clumsily rose to her feet, almost falling back down a few times in the process.

“You can hardly even stand up. We had better get you home so you can sleep this off. I hope you will have learned your lesson about such heavy drinking when you wake up with a hangover tomorrow.”

Home… (Y/n) sobered just a bit.

“I, I can’t go home!” (Y/n)’s shoulders drooped and the buzz she had going fell flat, “I have no home to go back to anymore.”

The woman gave her a sympathetic look then seemed to be contemplating something before finally speaking again.

“Then I suppose you can stay with me for the night. It’s too dangerous to be out alone at night sober, much less drunk.”

“Nah, it’s fine. Don’t worry about me, I’ll manage.”

“Don’t be difficult,” the woman sighed, “either walk with me, or I’ll drag you along. Your choice.”

(Y/n) laughed half-heartedly. “The way my feet keep tripping up you’ll probably have to drag me anyway.”

“I can see that.” She smirked, putting one of (Y/n)’s arms over her shoulders to help her keep her balance.

“My name is (Y/n) by the way.”

“And mine is Shinobu.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Shinobu.”

Shinobu hummed, but did not outwardly share the sentiment and somewhere in (Y/n)’s drunk brain she had the sense to be a bit embarrassed. What a wonderful first impression she had made, laying on the side of the road, drunk off her ass.

“I swear this is not normal behavior for me, you just caught me at a really bad time.”

“I’m not judging you, we all deal with grief in our own ways.” Shinobu told her.

“Grief?”

“Based on the puffiness around your eyes and the way the moon catches on your cheeks, how sore your voice sounds, you have been crying a lot, haven’t you?” She clinically deduced.

Grief… that would be an apt way to describe what (Y/n) had been feeling since her adoptive father had been killed, since everything she thought she knew about her family had crumbled in his absence. How Akira was spiraling in the name of revenge. How heavy and constricting the ink engraved upon her back felt as the days dragged on. How quickly things had changed.

Shinobu led her to an incredible mansion that she couldn’t help but gawk at. The inside was just as impressive. She had half the mind to ask Shinobu if she was a noblewoman, but by the time she had recovered enough to ask, she had already been led to a guest room.

“Drink this water and then rest. I will see you in the morning.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Shinobu gave a short nod and smiled before closing the door.

(Y/n) staggered into the cot and fell into a sleep like death mere moments later.

***

The next morning, almost afternoon, actually, (Y/n) awoke with a brain splitting pain. She could hear whispering around her, but they might as well have been screaming. She groaned pitifully and weakly attempted to shield her eyes from the sun.

“Oh! She’s waking up.”

“Is Shinobu-sama’s medicine ready?”

“I have it right here. Excuse me… Can you sit up please? We have medicine for your headache.”

(Y/n) grunted, slowly sitting up and then putting her head in her hands. Her head was swimming and she immediately wanted to lay back down, but a cup of sludgy looking medicine was soon put under her nose.

“Make sure to drink it all.”

“The smell may be off-putting, but it works really well.”

“Once you get some food and water in you, you’ll feel a lot better.”

Beyond the smelly hangover cure, (Y/n) could smell something good enough to make her mouth water. With great resolve, she downed the medicine and suppressed a gag, finally looking up at the three young girls working around her.

“Thanks,” she sighed, “sorry, I’m normally not such a mess.”

“Shinobu-sama said you were going through a difficult time. We aren’t judging.” The girl with pink butterfly clips promised.

“Here,” the girl with pigtails offered her a generous tray of food, “eat up.”

“You’ll feel better in no time.” The girl with braided hair smiled.

“Thank you all so much, really. This is fantastic.” (Y/n) said between bites.

“We will be sure to let Aoi-san know you enjoyed her cooking.” The girls beamed.

As (Y/n) ate, she chatted with the girls, learning all about the Butterfly Estate and all of its inhabitants. She also learned about the mansion’s purpose, to provide shelter and care to the injured. After her meal had settled, (Y/n) felt almost normal. There was still a bit of a dull throbbing in her skull every once in awhile, but given how much she drank the night before, it was amazing how much good that medicine did for her. She didn’t want to go back to her reality. She wished she didn’t have to leave this oasis.

“So, where is Shinobu now? I wanted to thank her before I left.” (Y/n) asked once she helped the girls clean and prepare the room for any new guests that may need it.

“Oh, she had something come up earlier this morning so she couldn’t come by to check on you herself.” Kiyo explained.

“She probably won’t be back until much later in the evening.” Sumi nodded.

“But we will make sure to let her know when she comes back.” Naho promised.

(Y/n)’s shoulders slumped slightly with disappointment. She had made such a poor first impression, she was hoping to end on a good note at least. There was also the fact that every moment (Y/n) was here, was another moment away from facing her reality. Maybe she could stall just a little bit longer.

“I’d really like to tell her myself… ah! What if I helped you guys with your work until she gets back? Would that be alright? Then I could really show my gratitude to you all.”

The girls gave it a little thought, but saw no harm in getting a little extra help for the day, so they happily agreed. (Y/n) spent the rest of the day sweeping, dusting and washing bedding. She was a little clumsy, and bit too rough and almost ripped the sheets she was scrubbing, but she got the hang of it. It was a lot different from the work her adoptive father would give her.

As she worked, she found out there was more to this infirmary than met the eye. She learned about demon slayers and was fascinated by their cause. It all seemed so noble to her, risking their lives to save unaware people like her from demons who roamed the night. She owed Shinobu more than she knew for last night.

When Shinobu came home around dinner time, she was surprised to see her guest was still there and even more surprised when said guest fell to her knees before her, thanking her so thoroughly for her good deed. Stunned, she blinked slowly then worked her mildly surprised expression back into a kind, yet reserved smile.

“Oh my, you are much more chipper than you were last night. Thank you very much, but please stand, there is no need for any of that.”

(Y/n) stood, but let it be known how much Shinobu deserved every second of praise and appreciation. She bowed again, but only at the waist. It was at that point the younger girls decided to chime in, telling Shinobu about all the tasks (Y/n) had helped them with during the day, so of course Shinobu offered to let her stay for dinner as well, and since the sky was darkening, she invited her to stay another night. Before they knew it, an extra night became two, then three, then—

(Y/n) was running out of time. Her week was almost up, just one more day. She had a decision to make, and she wasn’t sure why it had taken her so long to get to this point, as there was only one correct course of action.

Early that morning, she leapt out of bed to make the treck back to the city. She would come back, of course. She promised Shinobu she would fix all of the clunky sliding doors around the mansion today. She silently thanked the stars for the millionth time that she crossed paths, er, fell into the path of such an extraordinary woman. She was going to follow Shinobu’s example and live a life she could be proud of, a life her adoptive father would have been proud of.

“You’re up early.”

(Y/n) nearly jumped out of her skin when she heard Shinobu call to her from the engawa, a cup of tea in hand.

“When I told you the doors could wait until the morning, I didn’t mean dawn.” She teased.

“Ah, right, but I’m actually heading to the city. I have some affairs to get in order, but I promise I’ll take care of those doors as soon as I get back.”

“Is that so? Well then, safe travels. Be back before nightfall and stay away from any alcohol while you’re out.”

“I’m telling you that was a one time thing!” (Y/n) said in an exasperated tone.

Shinobu chuckled and (Y/n) smiled despite the jab.

“I’ll be back later in the afternoon, try not to work too hard!” (Y/n) sent Shinobu a wave, then bounded off of the engawa and left the estate grounds.

When she made it to the city, she kept a low profile, staking out a certain home as she had earlier in the week. At this time, the man who had killed her adoptive father with his cowardice and big mouth was busy at his day job while his wife took care of the children at home.

She took a deep breath, and knocked on the door. When the wife answered, (Y/n) asked to come inside and explained all that her shady husband had been up to and why it was important for her to take her kids and leave the city as soon as possible.

(Y/n) expected to have to persuade the woman further, force her out the door if necessary, but it seemed she already had her suspicions about her husband’s strange behavior. Hearing gossip about people seeing him in the Red Light District, and him claiming they had barely enough money to make ends meet despite the large amount of money she had found hidden away in the back of one of his drawers. She had been waiting for answers before doing anything rash, but (Y/n) provided her the last bit of incentive she needed to skip town with her kids and take her unfaithful husband’s money with her. Her parents still lived in a little known mountain village a couple weeks journey from the city, they would go there.

(Y/n) helped the woman and her children pack up their most precious belongings and got them a ride that would take them to the city limits where a carriage would be awaiting them next. When (Y/n) saw their car disappear around the corner, she left the crowded city herself, finally allowing herself to really breathe for the first time all week. There was no turning back, but that was fine. She felt so much lighter.

She couldn’t risk showing her face around town any more than she already had today. It wouldn’t take long before her betrayal was discovered and Akira would send the clan after her. What her punishment would be, she was not sure. However, under Akira’s harsh leadership, she was sure it would not be pleasant.

She stomped down the anxiety fluttering within her. She was on a better path now. No more shady shit, she wanted to put her strength to good use. She was going to ask Shinobu about becoming a demon slayer once she returned to the mansion. When she got back and took care of the doors like she promised she would, she did just that and asked Shinobu about becoming a demon slayer. Shinobu didn’t seem surprised by (Y/n)’s interest, but she did try to dissuade her from taking that path. However, with passion and persistence, she did finally manage to get Shinobu to give in and introduce her to a cultivator.

“But… I thought you were going to teach me.” (Y/n) had sheepishly admitted when Shinobu dropped her off on the first day.

“To start all the way at the beginning with the fundamentals of proper swordsmanship and Water Breathing would be… how can I say this kindly… tedious and not worth my time.” She answered with a mischievous smile.

“That didn’t sound kind at all!”

“I’ll tell you what, you do well, and I’ll give you a supplemental lesson here and there.”

“I’ll hold you to it!”

And in the next few months, (Y/n) learned a lot. When the time for the next Final Selection came around, she would be well prepared. Between what the Water Breathing cultivator taught her and what Shinobu refined with her own expertise, she felt confident in what she could accomplish. Maybe a little too confident.

“Can I come with you this time?” (Y/n) asked hopefully as Shinobu packed a light bag of supplies for her mission.

“I will tell you what I always have. You haven’t passed Final Selection yet. It would be unwise to bring you along.” Shinobu said, snapping her small medical kit shut. “I mean no offense when I say this, but I don’t want to have to worry about you while I have to focus on doing my job.”

“Please?”

Shinobu gave (Y/n) a smile that was paired with a look she knew all too well at this point. The ‘I’ll leave you in charge of all the most annoying chores while I’m gone if you keep this up’ look. (Y/n) pouted.

“I don’t get it! Why can’t we have supervised missions? Don’t you think it’s a little extreme to go from training without seeing a single demon, to a several nights of fighting them alone in the woods? I trust that everyone is doing their best to prepare me, but it would still be helpful to see what I’ll be up against in the future.”

Shinobu considered this as she checked over the experiments scattered around her lab one last time. It was a fair point. People tended to either go in with too much confidence or went in terrified over what to expect. Many fledglings had been killed by getting stuck in their heads and forgetting all they had been taught.

She would hate for (Y/n) to meet the same fate.

“Very well,” she sighed, “you may come, but,” she pointed her finger towards (Y/n) in warning, “you are only to observe from a distance. Do not attempt to engage unless absolutely necessary. If you go against me, I will make sure that you will never be cleared for final selection. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes! I’ll be on my best behavior, I promise!” (Y/n) eagerly held out her pinky and Shinobu sighed again inwardly before hooking their pinkies together.

Hopefully she wouldn’t regret this decision. It was getting harder and harder for her to deny (Y/n) anything. Despite the undesirable first impression and how rough she appeared around the edges, (Y/n) was a true sweetheart. She had a very abrupt introduction to the mansion, but quickly became another familiar friendly face within its walls. It would be devastating to see her life cut short.

“So, where are we going?” (Y/n) grinned excitedly and Shinobu couldn’t help but smile as well.

“A village to the southeast.”

***

Everything had gone smoothly until it hadn’t.

Shinobu had left a small trail of poisoned demons in her wake, (Y/n) safely observing and cheering her on at a distance, until two other demons had snuck up on them both. While Shinobu was busy taking care of one demon, (Y/n) had to defend herself against the other. Shinobu had lent her a Nichirin Sword for just such an occasion, but (Y/n) was having a hard time reading the demon’s erratic movements and had been slashed half a dozen times across her arms, legs and back before she finally managed to behead the thing. It hadn’t been very clean, but she gave a triumphant, albeit breathless shout of victory.

She had then turned to Shinobu, excited to she her reaction to her hard fought kill, but that fire died immediately when she saw how angry Shinobu looked as she strode towards her, the last demon melting into a pile of goo behind her.

Instantly (Y/n) felt the need to be defensive. “You- you said I could defend myself if I absolutely had to! Everything’s fine, right?”

“Everything is not fine!” Shinobu dropped to her knees beside her and opened her medkit, “You are covered in wounds! If you had a uniform, you wouldn’t be hurt half as badly. You might even get an infection on top of all of this. I shouldn’t have let you come.”

“Hey, none of this is your fault. That demon scratched me all up, not you.“

“You wouldn’t have gotten hurt, if I had left you at home.” She restated stubbornly. “Now show me your wounds, the sooner I clean and wrap them, the sooner we can get home so I can give you proper aid.”

(Y/n) let Shinobu clean and wrap her calves and arms, but when Shinobu began peeling back her clothes to try to work on her back, (Y/n) froze.

She had been rather vague with Shinobu about her past. How could she tell Shinobu she had been raised in a criminal syndicate that took a turn from admittedly kind of in a grey area, to definitely irreprehensible? That the night Shinobu met her, she was trying to gear herself up to kill an innocent woman and her children? No, she couldn’t. She could only imagine the disgust Shinobu would feel, the betrayal. (Y/n) suddenly felt ill.

“What is it, what’s wrong?” Shinobu asked. She tried to peel (Y/n)’s clothes from her back quicker, worried she was having some kind of reaction to the demon’s attack.

(Y/n) tried to pull her clothes back up over her shoulders, but Shinobu was faster, a quiet gasp that felt deafening in (Y/n)’s ears left Shinobu’s lips as the spiraling dragon tattoo was revealed. The blood seeping from the gashes across (Y/n)’s back making it look even more ferocious.

“When did you get this done?” Shinobu lightly poked her shoulder blade, the dragon’s snoot.

“A few years ago.” (Y/n) mumbled, pressing her palms together.

“Why haven’t you told me about this before?”

A weak hum and a shrug of the shoulders.

“You know,” Shinobu traced the coils, making (Y/n) shiver, “I have heard about a group of criminals that bear similar tattoos…”

(Y/n) broke down and told Shinobu everything about her up-brining from when her parents had gone out on a routine fishing trip and didn’t come back, up until the night they met, now months in the past.

“I understand if you don’t want me around anymore. I’ll—ah!”

Apparently Shinobu had been treating her back throughout her tale, as made evident by the sudden tightness of the bandages around her torso.

“That’s just foolish. Do you think I’m afraid of a little ink? Do you think I would ever be afraid of you, (Y/n)? Let’s think logically here.”

Shinobu proceeded to verbally beat some sense into (Y/n)’s brain. Reminding her of all the good she had done in the last few months.

“There is no better place for you than the Butterfly Estate. It’s a much better fit. Isn’t that right?”

Before (Y/n) could collect herself enough to respond, she felt Shinobu pinch her skin lower on her shoulder blade.

“Yes, you are so very wise Shinobu.”

“Why thank you.“

(Y/n) blinked, turmoil somewhat pushed aside for the moment. “Are you… pinching my skin to make it look like my tattoo is talking?”

“I’ve patched you up as best I can here. Get dressed, it’s time to go home.”

“Hey, don’t ignore me!” (Y/n) fumbled with her clothes then stumbled to her feet to catch up with Shinobu.

It was a little awkward on (Y/n)’s part as they walked back to the mansion, but once the fact that Shinobu still liked her caught up to her, the conversation became more natural and by the time they returned to the mansion and Shinobu completed the finishing touches to (Y/n)’s care, (Y/n) felt a familiar weightlessness and with Shinobu’s teasing pokes, the tattoo on her back didn’t feel as heavy and constricting anymore.

***

In the following weeks of recovery, (Y/n) and Shinobu grew quite a bit closer and many residents of the mansion took notice. The touches that were a couple beats too long when they passed the other something, the lingering looks, and most damning was how Shinobu would put off some of her work to join (Y/n) for a meal or a chat and a walk around the garden, knuckles brushing as they went. (Y/n) couldn’t help but feel hopeful that Shinobu might want to change the nature of their relationship as well.

On this lovely summer day, she was prepared to share her feelings, for better or for worse. She had already planned a little outing that Shinobu agreed to join her on. Nothing too grand, just a sweet little picnic in the woods near the mansion. It was pretty much a date already. She had woken extra early that morning with the intent of getting everything in order before they left, but when she walked past her window, something on the sill outside caught her eye. A letter.

She opened the window and took the letter and wasted no time in opening it. The curiosity she had felt chilled into a heavy feeling of dread.

Traitorous coward, the letter read, If you have any ounce of honor within you, you will come to the cemetery and accept your punishment for deserting the family, or we will burn this mansion and everyone in it to ash.

There was no sign off, but (Y/n) didn’t need one to know it was Akira. She let the letter flutter to the ground and jumped out of the window so as not to be caught running down the halls. This was her mess to deal with. She would not allow anyone to be hurt because of her.

Part of her was hopeful she and Akira could talk it out, but she knew that wasn’t going to be very likely. Whatever happened today would be the final wedge between them.

She went to the cemetery and walked to the very last row. Though it was not specified, she had a feeling she’d find him near his father’s grave.

“There you are.” Though she expected it, (Y/n) stiffened at Akira’s icy tone. “Look who left her comfy new castle to finally face the consequences.”

“Aniki—“

“No, you are no sibling of mine. Not by blood nor bond.” Akira sneered, “I trusted you to do the right thing for this family. You’d think after taking you in, you’d have a sense of duty to avenge the man who took you off the streets and put food in your mouth.”

(Y/n) stood a bit taller, holding her head high, “I don’t regret letting them go. They did nothing wrong. I heard all about how you got your man in the end. That was all that needed to be done. It’s over.”

“Not until they’re all dead.” He growled, then sighed. “Here is how this is going to work. You tell me where they ran off to, or you will pay dearly.”

“I won’t tell you anything.” She declared almost talking over him with how quickly she replied.

“Oh, trust me,” he glared, “you will.”

People (Y/n) once considered family and friends had quietly surrounded them as they talked. And now were charging at her with the intent to harm. She managed to hold them off for a time, even incapacitated some after all the training she had done to become a demon slayer thus far, but between being outnumbered and her wounds still relatively fresh, she was beaten to the ground and held there at knifepoint barely able to breathe with the combined weight on top of her back.

“Start with the fingers.” Akira ordered cooly. “If she manages to hold out, we’ll move on to the toes. But before all of this is done we also have to take that tattoo back as well. Try to be as delicate as possible. I want to dry it out and hang it on my wall. My father always said it was one of his favorite works.”

“Stop!” (Y/n) squirmed beneath the weight, struggling to pry her wrist out of one of the many grabby hands. She closed her eyes and grit her teeth tightly, anticipating the first slice, but then she felt some of the weight get yanked away and her eyes shot open, craning her head back, she was surprised to see that the Calvary had arrived.

Inosuke cackled and crowed as he swiftly kicked outward like a hurricane, Kanao weaved behind thugs and struck them in their weak points, toppling them. Tanjirou delivered a few swift headbutts and even Zenitsu, though screaming, came through as well. Last but not least, Shinobu floated gracefully to the ground behind (Y/n), her smile too sharp and her eyes to dark to be considered kind. Her gaze was trained on Akira, challenging him.

“My home is filled with an array of trained fighters at all hours of the day, and our allies are many. You had best cut your loses and move on with your miserable life.”

Akira ground his teeth together and his eyes flickered all around him to see just how overpowered he was despite how small the opposing group was in comparison. He determined his clan was no match and called back his gang to retreat, but not before giving (Y/n) one last hateful glare.

While Inosuke cheered and cackled wildly around them, Shinobu dropped to the ground beside (Y/n) to check her over.

“Are you okay? Did they hurt you? Show me.”

“I’m alright, you guys got here just in time. How did you know where to find me?”

“I believe we had a date planned for today.” Shinobu reminded with just the tiniest hint of attitude. “I went to your room, saw the letter on the floor and rallied the troops. If something like this ever happens again, you better tell me instead of running off by yourself. We are stronger together.”

Now, Shinobu had a lot to say just then, but (Y/n) was still fixated on the first line. A date. She saw the outing to ask if she wanted to date as a date in and of itself!

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Shinobu asked, tilting (Y/n)’s head in her hands, “Are you concussed?”

“No! I mean, I don’t think I am, I just, you just—“

“Yes?” Shinobu coaxed with just a touch of impatience. If there was something wrong, she wanted to know about it as soon as possible.

“You-me-we-us— date?!”

Shinobu laughed, it was a little more unrestrained than her usual chuckles and it made (Y/n)’s heart palpitate.

“Yes, is that not what this outings was supposed to be?”

“Well,” she flustered, “technically no. It was supposed to be like a pre-date to ask if you would like to date… it sounds kinda silly when I say it out loud but—“

Shinobu then sighed and rested her forehead against (Y/n)’s. “I think it’s cute. But we can just start dating now. I think we’ve beaten around the bush for long enough.”

“Y-yeah? Okay.” A smile spread across (Y/n)’s face. “Awesome.”

Shinobu took (Y/n)’s hands in her own and placed a quick kiss on her cheek before helping her to her feet.

“Why are you stumbling around like you’re drunk?” Shinobu asked, finding it difficult to keep (Y/n) upright. “Perhaps I should check your pupils again.”

“No, no, I’m good! Great, even! A goddess just kissed my cheek!” (Y/n) beamed, hooking her arms around Shinobu’s shoulders.

“Don’t make me change my mind.” Shinobu warned, a light blush dusting her cheeks.

On the tail end of the sweetness of the moment, Inosuke butted between them to tell Shinobu how hungry he was despite Tanjirou, Kanao and Zenitsu’s best efforts to keep him back. Shinobu chuckled and nodded in understanding. They all marched back to the mansion and enjoyed a hearty breakfast together with the rest of the Butterfly girls, (Y/n) and Shinobu sitting hip to hip during the whole lively affair.

[theghostofloganroy]

I also understand that some of you may be appalled at the general lack of sympathy in regards to the death of five uber wealthy individuals but just consider this for a moment. In the last century or so billionaires have created an environment that is so financially hostile towards the lower and middle classes that we have to scrutinize every penny we spend just on the basic necessities often having to go without just to stay solvent, while they profit off of our blood sweat and tears.

The truth of the matter is that while you are crying on the bathroom floor having to make the choice between feeding yourself and going without just to pay the rent they would not give a flying fuck about you.

If anyone is to weep about this situation than it may be for Sulemen Dawood, a nineteen year old boy who didn't want to be there in the first place but went to make his father happy. And yes there is a solid argument to be made that he too benefited from the profits of our labour but he was nineteen years old he could of had the opportunity to make a difference in a positive sense, he could have had a lifetime to make right and perhaps he wouldn't have, we shall never know now.

Billionaires have so much power in their hands that they could make a real positive change for the good of all if they simply stopped exploiting us and that starts by them not hoarding the majority of the worlds wealth and for them to do that would mean they stop being billionaires.

There is so much unwarranted vitriol towards those on benefits many people believing that they are cheating the system and seeing them as as a scourge on society. When the ones who are truly cheating the system and are the real scourge society are the 1% with their tax loop holes and tax havens.

Remember Capitalism has always been and will always be a poison on humanity.

[shiyorin]

#Excoriator x Reader

#It started with a joke between me and my friends, and then my sadistic ass made me do this.

TW: Rites of Castigation. Typical Son of Dorn. Reader is Chapter Serf. You whip astartes :v

The rite proceeded as always, prayers intoned, whips singing their grim hymns upon bared flesh. So sacred, a solemn joining of flesh and spirit through agony's elevating embrace. The Excoriators stood stoic, for them, pain was purity, suffering a sacrament uniting them to their genetic father Rogal Dorn. Bloody lashes, criss-crossed flesh, scars worn with pride. 

The first lash fell, biting deep. He grunted, muscles cording yet gave no other sound. Again and again the bites came, scourging ritual old as their Legion renewed once more. Scarred skin split and bled anew under your practiced hand.

Still that peculiar tension persisted, focused oddly around his loins. He frowned, struggling to comprehend. This was holy suffering, a sacred rite! Why then did the sight of your small form wielding the whip stir such... feelings? 

Another lash, harder than before, and he could not contain a low gasp. The Chaplain's eyes flickered over, scrutinizing, yet he remained stoically silent. Astartes were above such base urges, and...

Your next strike sent sparks of strange, illicit pleasure searing through his transhuman flesh. He grit his teeth, torn between sacred duty and this profane new awareness. What blasphemy was this, to find excitement in an act of devotion? 

The bite of pain was nothing, his gene-crafted body was forged to withstand far worse. But feeling your small hand wielding such power over one such as he stirred something deep within his genetics. 

Was it heretofore unknown synapses firing, flesh responding despite augments? Or something more...carnal in nature, begging analysis and repudiation? 

He grit his teeth as the lash fell once more. Pain danced across his muscled flesh, but far more than agony stirred in his loins. The blood drops beading upon scars. Your tiny blows shook him to the core, setting alight a flame within holy aegis. Through slitted eyes he watched your work, awe and something less savory twisting his gut.

He suppressed a low groan. Nearby brothers shot him askance looks, but he knew they too felt the strange heat rising in their veins. He can hear another brother's breath hitch in response. They were not alone in their strange afflictions, it seemed.

Is this some gift from their genetic Father Rogal Dorn, that they should find rapture even in agony? Or merely some human weakness seeping into their transhuman perfection? 

He knew not, only that each lash sent lightning up his spine. He grit his teeth against another gasp, focusing on your flushed face above him, drinking in the fierce concentration upon your face. 

Beautiful, as no battle could ever be. Did you have any idea the effect you held over transhuman bodies and souls? What infernal ecstasies you inspired with each blow?

The rite continued, blood flowing freely as penance for sins none could name. But beneath the pain each Excoriator felt stirrings none could deny, not even to themselves. 

The Chaplain can feel control slipping. Your delicate hand gripping the whip's haft, a tremor passed through him that had nothing to do with agony. Your touch sent heat coursing through veins, pooling low in his body where no Astartes had known such urges.

But your composure shook him more than any penance. What are you thinking behind those eyes, he wondered? Did you feel nothing from dominating transhuman giants? Had you sensed their straying thoughts, their sudden lusts? Astartes were not meant for such things, and yet in that moment he felt only regret that the rite was over. 

He gazed down at you, wishing to know your true mind.

Penitence was purity, suffering a sacred duty, however bittersweet. And for your sake as much as theirs, that duty must come before all else.

[ladythot]

Just thinking about how the baki men would react when they see a porny picture of a girl in a website filled with ads or like an Instagram thirst trap makes me laugh. This is like, a funny fun kind of ask, I just wanna see what your thoughts about their reaction would be *snorts and slams the table numerous times before the joke even comes out*

Consider me snorting at the thought of one of them ending up jerking off to the picture

Baki

He's scrutinizing the picture if the girl caught his attention with no ill intent—but later on he finds himself riling up before he closes the web and calls for kozue.

Remember that one time baki domoe motobe izou magically formed into a girl as an illusion and it was making baki almost drool? A cheap trick could get him cowering on his knees. In my opinion, I mean my most certainly self opinionated conclusion, baki occasionally wonders how a body much different from kozue would feel like in a naive way of depicting imagination.

Katsumi

Has a deadpan expression plastered on his face before he stumbles onto one. His eyes would dilate at the picture as he mentally slaps himself before exiting out of the web. Immediately checks if his vpn is still on for some reason

Mumon

Swipes the mouse way faster than he should but later scrolls back up little by little as curiosity kills him to think about taking in the picture once more even when he considers himself as a non coomer. And he should be looking at bankable jobs not girls

Katou

He'd be invested to think that the site showing him unsolicited ads could be handful or truthful for that matter, he's a guy with nothing to brag about. He's a man without much female companion and their company, let him caper in his shallow desire. But of course, he's still wary about scams—doesn't stop him from watching cute streamgirls though. He's gonna scourge and reverse the image just to find who the girl is shown in the picture

Jack

He's disappointed at women showing their bodies. Especially when he's just looking for a new shirt to wear, man. (That's jush how canon Jack is) but fanon Jack? Let me hear you say he could only live his fantasies within pictures of his type

Hector

It might just be me, but, I have a feeling he takes his time to look at egirls in their natural habit in all kind of pics especially if it's suggestive; knife, chains, and smoking? He gets the inspiration. But a stray porny advertisement being shoved in his face is like him being assaulted through the screen

Sikorsky

Me thinks that he will click on the ad that says about a girl 200 meters away waiting for him and get hacked

[flutefemme]

Saint Link and the Dragon

Chapter 10

The battle between hero and scourge commenced. Sir Link fought valiantly, dodging fire and fang. However, despite his courageous efforts and indomitable spirit, the Demon Dragon's hide could not be penetrated.

As Hyrule's princess scrutinized the scene - wise as she was - she spied a gap on the Dragon's underbelly. A quick survey of the area revealed an abandoned bow and arrows on the warrior's horse.

Unbeknownst to the occupied hero, Zelda of Hyrule made her move. Righteous anger imbued the warrior's bow and arrow with holy light as the princess snatched the weapon from his horse and deftly nocked an arrow.

Through the air, the holy arrow flew and met its mark - tearing through the Dragon's exposed flesh.

Chapter 1

Chapter 9

Chapter 11

[vendettaspathfanfic]

Chapter Five

(First one with the cover!!)

(Chapter Index)

(Previous)

(Next)

The sudden demise of a prominent official and the mysterious vanishing of another were events that could not stay undetected for long. Reinforcements were swiftly deployed to the location to scrutinize the aftermath of a violent explosion, an array of gunfire, and the resonating shockwaves of sonic booms.

Although nobody had any idea who initiated the bombing, it was initially assumed Miles Prower and Boomer Walrus of the Suppression Squad had neutralized the elusive blue blur. Yet, upon arrival, they were met with a chilling scene - the lifeless body of Boomer, his existence snuffed out by a fatal gunshot wound on the lower right side of his neck. The grim tableau was punctuated by the discovery of four police-issue bullet casings and three bullets lodged in the nearby concrete wall.

This evidence led to an almost inescapable conclusion - the young blue blur who had managed to seize a gun from the law enforcement ranks was the likely perpetrator of this crime.

After power and communications were swiftly restored, the area remained under stringent lockdown. Law enforcement personnel diligently scanned the vicinity for any trace of Miles, the young suspect, or any individuals exhibiting suspicious behavior. Their search unearthed only the shattered remnants of Miles' array of handheld devices and a faint set of small, bloody shoeprints.

Atop a hill, overlooking the city, the massive Castle Acorn loomed like a fortress of steel and glass. Its impressive structure was marked by glowing neon spires that pierced the evening sky, a true testament to technological power. Inside the castle's walls, Alicia Acorn sat in the throne room, surrounded by modern design and bathed in the gentle glow of neon lights. It was there that she received an urgent phone call from the chief of police, bearing this news of her comrades' fate and the circumstances surrounding it.

The newly crowned queen gripped her throne, taking in a breath in an attempt to retain composure. “Please bring Boomer’s remains to the castle as soon as you are able. And do not cease in your search for Miles.”

“Yes, your majesty.” The chief dutifully responded. “We’re able to have him sent back right away.”

The loss of Boomer was bad enough by itself. His collaboration with Miles in the realm of engineering and invention had been a cornerstone of the extraordinary technological revolution sweeping through their world. More than just an innovator, Boomer was also one of the most formidable combatants within their small team.

The impact of Miles' sudden disappearance was even more catastrophic. While Alicia held the official title of queen in their domain, it was Miles who was the true architect of power behind the throne. His strategic wit was the keystone in their coup that toppled the despised Scourge, leading to the former king's incarceration in Zone Jail at the hands of Sonic. Without his guiding hand, Alicia's governance faced the threat of unraveling.

Patch, interjected with furrowed brows and a skeptical glance from his intact eye, "I was under the impression that the Shapeshifters had departed our planet, madame."

Alicia gestured assertively as she responded, "Many have, not her.” She turned to pace in another direction, her eyes shifting in continuous thought as she spoke. "I had already considered extending an invitation for her to join us. Now, there's no luxury of time to ponder further. She represents our immediate recourse." With her arms now dropping to her sides, her hands clenched into determined fists, Alicia’s eyes blazed with resolve. "As for locating Miles, rest assured we will find him," she proclaimed with a steely tone. "Even if our search means reducing our world to ashes."

Little did Miles’ comrades know that he was unconscious in the back of a postal van.

In a fortunate turn of events, telecommunications were swiftly restored in the vicinity of the recent bombing. Inhabitants of this affluent area had the financial means to ensure rapid resumption of services, and as a result, utility crews worked diligently to rectify the outage in under 20 minutes. The expeditious recovery allowed the Destructix to hastily reconvene and make their escape from the site of the explosion, slipping away before law enforcement could fully divert their attention from managing the immediate effects of the devastation.

In a calculated move to avoid drawing attention, Fiona opted for a less direct route than the rest of the gang as they drove back to their hideout. She was at the wheel of the high-performance sports car they had stolen earlier. In the passenger seat, Scourge was visibly annoyed, burdened with the task of holding the most wanted child in all of Moebius, who was making her discontent loudly known. Due to earlier incidents, he deemed it best that the Destructix didn’t attempt to handle her.

"I wanna fuckin' drive!" Toxic's high-pitched, petulant demand sliced through the interior of the car, her voice a discordant note that caused Scourge's ears to involuntarily flatten against his head in vexation.

Scourge's patience frayed, and with a harsh tone, he retorted, "And if you don't shut up, I'll want to knock all your baby teeth out." This threat prompted Toxic to issue a low, defiant growl, and with exaggerated pique, she crossed her arms and turned her gaze out the window, embodying the essence of childish rebellion.

Despite the animosity that he held towards his sister, recent developments were too significant to overlook. For starters, there was the fact that one of their rivals had been shot dead, which had subsequently resulted in the abduction of another. To top it all off, Scourge found himself in possession of an exceptionally sleek sports car. Admittedly, the vehicle had a shattered window—a souvenir from the circumstances of its acquisition—but he was confident that with a little bodywork and a fresh coat of paint, it would serve as a magnificent means of transportation. The cause of these victories were his sister's reckless escapade that had her tangling with the long arm of the law.

Her actions, albeit inadvertent, had proven to be of considerable advantage to them.

"Ay, Toxic… We need to talk about some things," Scourge reluctantly initiated the conversation, hesitant to give her credit for her aid.

"I thought you said shut up?" Toxic retorted, her tone laced with bitterness as she tightly crossed her arms over her chest.

Scourge let out an exasperated roll of his eyes, followed by a scoff, "Well, you can talk now, smartass."

"Can I drive?" Toxic inquired, a spark of curiosity lighting up her gaze as she considered the prospect.

"Not a chance, brat," Scourge dismissed the idea instantly. "Anyways, that's not what I'm trying to talk about. Look, you did some crazy-ass stuff today, and I was this close," he said, holding his thumb and forefinger millimeters apart, "to blowing your brains out. You could've landed us all back in the slammer," he added, his voice tinged with contempt. He paused to rub his face, as if the physical action could somehow help him process the day's events, "But, lucky for you, your antics actually played out in our favor. So, not only am I sparing your life, but I'm also offering you another shot to roll with our crew. We're talking about a legit life here. Away from that hellhole of an orphanage, living it up in the castle where everything we could ever want is just a snap away. But this comes with conditions: you do everything we say, you don't run off, you don't attack us, you don't mess with our stuff without permission, and you put an end to those tantrums of yours. Otherwise, you're nothing but fodder for the rats. Are we clear, kid?"

Toxic seemed to mull over his words, her initially rigid posture gradually easing, her ear twitching as if weighing each word. Scourge watched her with a raised eyebrow, his head tilted in anticipation of her response.

"Um… Does this mean you can help me?" Toxic eventually asked, her voice small as she twiddled a strand of her unkempt hair, avoiding eye contact.

Scourge blinked, taken aback. She was asking for help? It dawned on him that he had never really considered her needing anything beyond the apparent satisfaction she derived from antagonizing him and his cohorts.

"Uh… Depends," Scourge replied, his expression still betraying his confusion, "What do you need, Toxic?"

Her response was timid, her words imbued with a childlike simplicity, "My friends didn't come back..." Toxic admitted sheepishly, her gaze shifting away to the car window, evading the weight of their stares.

"Your friends?" Fiona chimed in, perplexed at the idea of her ever having friends.

"Hold on a second," Scourge interjected with a snap of his fingers, a lightbulb going off in his head, "Is that why you had four lanterns?"

Toxic nodded slowly, her long fingernail, encrusted with dirt, scraping against the door's upper panel as she gazed blankly into the distance.

"Uh..." Scourge exhaled, a notable tension in his breath as he grappled with the realization of her situation and scratched at the back of his head, pondering the implication of her words, "we… might have a way to find them." Scourge's voice was tentative, betraying a hint of reluctance before he directed his gaze to her, asking with a newfound sense of purpose, "Where were they last seen? What happened?"

She began to recount the events in a halting, childlike manner, "Um… ok so Revine told me not to do the slide because it was broken but it didn’t look broken and then I did it, but it um… broked. Then my mouth cut hurt really bad and I had a hot um… face." Toxic tapped her forehead, indicating a fever, her speech hampered by the limits of her youthful lexicon, "I didn't feel good and Revine went to go get um… the medicine… But she didn't come back. Ren and Selene were scared, and I felt badder, but..." She trailed off, her voice dropping to almost a whisper as she lowered her head, her gaze fixated on Scourge's shoes in the dim light of the car while she fidgeted with her hair, "Revine always said don't look for her if she doesn't come back, but they still went looking and they didn't come back either."

A heavy silence settled over the interior of the car as the gravity of Toxic's predicament sunk in. For the first time, Scourge felt a genuine pang of sympathy for his sister, his blue eyes softening as they made contact with her green ones, reflecting a vulnerability he hadn't noticed before. He was acutely aware that finding her friends would be no simple feat. In the best-case scenario, they had been apprehended and would be listed in police records, which could be accessed with ease if they managed to secure positions of influence. But if they weren't in custody, they could be kidnapped, dead, or lost among the countless homeless children wandering the neon-drenched labyrinth of the city's streets.

"Ok..." Scourge finally spoke, his voice lower, the earlier edge of command now replaced with a more contemplative tone as he averted his eyes from Toxic and stared ahead at the road, "Just stick to the rules, do what we say, and we'll help you look for them, understood?"

Toxic's nod was firm, and with newfound conviction, she affirmed, "Ok."

"You know, Toxic," Fiona interjected, taking control of the steering wheel as she navigated the vehicle, her eyes scanning the road ahead, "shooting seems to be in your blood. We could train you to handle a gun like a real sharpshooter. But remember, you only use a gun when we say so, got it?"

"Ok," Toxic responded, a glimmer of enthusiasm detectable in her voice as she contemplated the offer, "Can we get some food?"

"Yeah," Scourge agreed, pointing at Fiona with a sudden inspiration, "we should swing by that pizza joint we hit up earlier. We could grab a box and some beers to toast our little victory tonight."

"Amen to that," Fiona laughed.

"Wait, I want beer too," Toxic suddenly piped up, her request prompting a burst of laughter from Scourge and Fiona.

"Have you ever even tasted beer?" Scourge queried through his chuckles.

"No. I saw some people drinking it when we went out to find food. Revine said I'm too young for it, but are you saying I can have some?" Toxic asked, her thumbs fidgeting in anticipation.

Scourge was about to respond when Fiona interjected with a firm, "No!"

"Come on, she's earned it! It'd just be a taste," Scourge argued, still laughing at the thought of their youngest member joining in the revelry.

"Scourge, she's just a kid. Who knows what it might do to her? Plus, she’d definitely be a mean drunk," Fiona retorted, shaking her head at Scourge's lack of foresight.

The idea of a belligerent, inebriated child hurling insults at hardened criminals was too amusing for Scourge to resist. "Wait—Shit!" he gasped, struggling to stifle his laughter, "Alright, alright, just one little sip," he conceded, still chuckling.

"Just a splash, barely a taste," Fiona relented, joining in the mirth, "We're definitely going straight to hell for this."

As the laughter subsided, Scourge reassured Toxic, "We'll get you some soda too. Beer's an acquired taste, kid."

"What the hell does that mean?" Toxic asked, her brows knitting together in confusion.

"You'll find out," Scourge said, glancing out the window just in time to see they were pulling up to the pizzeria.

Through the grimy car window, they could see the restaurant's television broadcasting the news, ablaze with coverage of the aftermath of a recent bombing, and now featuring the murder of Boomer Walrus.

"Damn..." Scourge muttered to himself, "Fiona, you grab the pizza. Toxic, you're staying in the car with me."

Fiona nodded tersely, understanding the gravity of the situation, and exited the vehicle to collect their order.

"Why do we have to stay in the car?" Toxic inquired, her fingernail resuming its path along the car door's leather panel.

"Because you've landed yourself in a shitload of trouble. We can't risk some bounty hunter spotting you and trying to cash in," Scourge explained with a weary sigh, his mind flashing back to past encounters with relentless headhunters who’d do anything for a reward.

When Fiona returned, laden with an extra large box of pizza and bottles of beer, they wasted no time in driving back to the orphanage. Upon arrival, they rearranged some scattered chairs into a circle in one of the building's larger rooms. They set a single chair in the center to serve as a makeshift table for the pizza box, which was now the focal point surrounded by the soft glow of the four lanterns. The dim light from the lanterns cast eerie shadows on the walls as they settled into their seats, ready to celebrate the tumultuous day's end.

"Where's Miles, by the way?" Fiona inquired casually, reaching for a slice of pizza and a beer from the makeshift table.

"We tied him to a chair in an old freezer down in the basement," Predator answered, popping open his beer and taking an eager gulp. His face contorted in disgust as he quickly pulled the bottle away, "This tastes like..."

"Like piss and batteries," Lightning finished, grimacing after taking a swig of his own.

"You'd know all about that, wouldn't you, Lightning-wing-sting?" Flying Frog teased with a jeering point, his laughter echoing in the room.

"Yeah, learned from the best—your mom," Lightning retorted with a smirk, eliciting a round of chuckles from the group.

"Hey! Watch it, pally!" Flying Frog shot back with mock offense, standing on his chair He then grinned widely, "Tell her I said thanks for dumping me when I was born," he joked before collapsing back into his chair amidst the group's laughter.

Scourge felt a gentle tap on his arm and looked down to see Toxic seeking his attention. "Can I have a beer now?" she asked with a hopeful look in her eyes.

"Hold up, everyone. Before we drink any more, I think we need to acknowledge our little wildcard here," Scourge declared, raising his bottle for attention despite the murmurs of disbelief from his gang. "If it weren't for her wild antics today, Boomer would still be alive and Miles wouldn't be in the freezer. So here's to Toxic," he proclaimed, nodding at Fiona who reluctantly opened a bottle for the youngster.

"Toxic," they echoed, albeit somewhat scattered, as they raised their bottles and took a drink. Toxic, in her innocence, tried to mimic the gesture but immediately spat out the beer, her face scrunching up in disgust, which sent another wave of laughter through the group.

"To be fair, this beer is pretty terrible," Simon admitted with the hint of a grin.

"We kicked ass guys, not win the lottery," Fiona added with a chuckle, handing over a bottle of orange soda to Toxic. "Here, try this instead, kid."

Grateful to rid her mouth of the bitter taste, Toxic eagerly guzzled the soda before hungrily diving into her slice of pizza.

The atmosphere within the dimly lit room was unusually relaxed and convivial as the evening progressed. The gang, typically bound by the commonality of their shared objectives and the threat of their enemies, found themselves unwinding in a rare display of camaraderie. It wasn't an occasion that required the profundity of deep, heart-to-heart discussions; rather, the air was filled with an undercurrent of joviality that was a welcome departure from their usual interactions.

Simon, Flying, Lightning, and Predator shared a history that spanned several years, their familiarity with one another evident in their effortless exchanges. For Scourge and Fiona, however, the dynamics were relatively new territory. Although past collaborations had occasionally thrown them together, it was only recently that they had committed to being full-time members of this gang. As such, their integration into the fold was still a work in progress, with trust and friendship being forged through shared experiences and battles.

Yet, as laughter filled the room and barriers began to dissolve, it seemed that the invisible walls that had separated them were crumbling. Even Toxic, the young girl who had been the object of their collective disdain earlier in the day, was now an integral part of the evening's festivities, her presence accepted, perhaps even appreciated, as they all found common ground in the simple pleasure of the moment.

As the night wore on, the effects of the alcohol became increasingly evident. Their inhibitions lowered, their speech slowed, and their movements took on a languid quality. Lightning, in particular, seemed to succumb to the introspective pull of inebriation. Holding an empty bottle with a loose grip, he lamented over a lost love with slurred words and a bitterness that could only be fueled by the sting of rejection. Bride of the Conquering Storm, the formidable leader of his former Raiju clan, had not only denied his affections but had also cast him out of said clan following his failure to display his worth in combat against her and Sonic.

Predator, observing Lightning's inebriated state, offered a dose of unsentimental advice. Hunched over in his chair, a bottle of his own hanging precariously from his fingers, he addressed Lightning with a weary sigh. "If she's such a bitch, forget her," he muttered.

"I c-“ Lightning's speech was abruptly cut off by a soft burp, his words trailing off. "I can’t. I wanted her more than anything, man… And then I get kicked out of my clan… Like what the fuck!?" His voice grew progressively louder, his words slurred as he spoke.

"Lightning, look around you," Predator grumbled, his grip tightening on the bottle as he gestured around them. "Sure, we’re in a dump of an orphanage, but no matter what, you’ve got us. Focus on that. What happened back then won’t happen again."

Lightning paused, attempting to process Predator’s words, but before he could, he was overcome by a wave of acute nausea, muttering a faint "fuck" before rushing out of the room to vomit.

Predator watched him go and then stared at the doorway through which he had fled for a moment or two. He shut his eyes and clenched his jaw, staring down at his feet in silence. After a heavy sigh, he placed the bottle on the floor, stood up, and slurred, "I’m gonna go to bed…" before storming away without another word, dragging his feet as he went.

"Looks like I’m getting some black coffee in the morning," Simon said, observing Flying Frog snoring in his chair with an empty beer bottle in his lap.

“Why?” Toxic asked, squishing her empty plastic soda bottle out of boredom.

"It helps when you get a hangover," Simon replied, his words slightly slurred from the alcohol.

"What’s a hangover?" Toxic asked, wiggling her feet aimlessly before putting the tip of the bottle in her mouth and gnawing on it. She leaned back against the wall, her curiosity piqued.

“It’s when you drink a lot of beer or other types of alcohol and the next morning you feel sick,” Simon explained, getting up to pick up the empty bottles scattered around the room, the faint aroma of alcohol lingering in the air.

“Why do people do that?” she pondered with a grimace, unable to fathom the appeal of drinking something so vile. She wrinkled her nose at the thought.

“For fun, I guess. Why do you ask so many questions?” Simon replied, taking her bottle and adding it to the trash he took to a nearby waste bin, the clinking of glass echoing in the quiet room.

“I dunno,” Toxic said with a shrug, her eyes following Simon as he moved around the room.

“Well,” Simon began with a stretch, “I’ll go to bed too. You should sleep too soon, you hear me?”

“I’m not tired,” Toxic protested, her gaze wandering around the room.

“Well, you will be soon. G’night, Toxic,” he said softly before leaving to go to bed, his steps fading into the distance.

Meanwhile, Scourge and Fiona were outside having one last cigarette before they went to bed, the night air cool against their skin.

“So…” Fiona exhaled, a cloud of smoke escaping her lips, “If we get Miles to talk, we get word on the castle’s security. Then… it’s almost straight shootin’ from there.”

“Hopefully,” Scourge added before inhaling deeply, the red ember of his cigarette glowing in the darkness, “but our plans have seemed to change a lot lately, so we gotta be prepared for anything.”

“We’re good at rolling with the punches though, ain’t we?” She said with a mischievous smirk as she held the cigarette between her fingers, turning her head to Scourge, nudging his side playfully with her elbow, the faint glow of the cigarette illuminating their faces in the dim light.

“True,” Scourge admitted, his arm enveloping Fiona’s waist as they stood bathed in the gentle glow of the moonlight filtering through the night sky. He gazed into her eyes, the silver beams reflecting in her irises, creating a mesmerizing effect.

“Nowhere I’d rather be…” Fiona said softly, her voice carrying a hint of longing, as she closed the gap between their lips, embracing a fusion of love and the bitter tang of nicotine.

They savored the moment for a couple of minutes, their connection deepened by the intoxicating allure of both the chemicals and each other’s presence. Although unspoken, they both knew they needed one another. In a world consumed by chaos, they were each other’s anchor, the one constant they could rely on. As their lips hesitantly drifted apart, they extinguished their cigarettes, reentered the building, and headed off to bed, their silhouettes fading into the darkness.

Toxic was the last one awake at this point. She rubbed her eyes as she got up from her chair and turned three of the lanterns off, preserving their power as Revine had taught her to do before taking one to guide her to her designated mattress. With a quiet click, she turned off the lantern and settled onto her bed, a glimmer of hope kindling within her for the first time in almost two weeks.

As Scourge had mentioned earlier, they had to be prepared for anything.

Dr. Stellaria Versipelle eagerly accepted the opportunity to join the Suppression Squad. After conducting a thorough examination of Boomer’s lifeless form, she extended an invitation to Queen Alicia and Patch to demonstrate something she claimed would be incredibly useful to them.

“What can she show us?” Patch asked Alicia as they approached the lab, his voice tinged with curiosity and uncertainty. “Clearly the child shot and killed him.”

“We won’t know until we get there, now will we?” Alicia tersely replied as they entered the lab, the sterile scent of antiseptic hitting their nostrils as they were greeted by the doctor, who had taken the form of a tall navy blue Moebian fox, her presence exuding an air of professionalism and intrigue.

“Thank you for making time out of your schedule to come see me,” the doctor spoke formally with a grin, her hands folding in front of her as she stood before them. “I’ll make this quick and worth your while.”

“Well, what do you have to say?” Alicia inquired, her eyes fixed on the shrouded form of Boomer, a sense of urgency palpable in her voice.

“Firstly,” the doctor began, her steps purposeful as she paced around Boomer’s still figure, “I’ve come to the conclusion he didn’t die instantly. He struggled for a moment, gagging on his own blood long enough for me to be able to show you why you’re here.” She turned to an assistant standing nearby, her expression expectant. “If you could bring my subject in? And please do be gentle with her, she can be sensitive.”

As her assistant followed orders, Patch’s eyes furrowed in confusion, his unease growing palpable in the tense atmosphere of the lab.

“Erm… Subject, Miss?” Patch asked apprehensively, his gaze shifting between the doctor and the assistant, uncertainty etched on his features.

"Doctor," Stellaria corrected him, her blood orange eyes locking onto Patch’s with an icy intensity that sent a chill running down his spine, eliciting a disquieting chuckle from her. The air in the room seemed to grow colder as her gaze held him in place. "And, yes. I found her and have been working with her since she was a child. You see, she was born with certain abilities that make her quite unique. This includes but isn’t limited to telekinetic powers, the ability to create out of thin air, and, most relevantly at the moment, clairvoyance. With the ever-increasing rise in technological and scientific advancement, her abilities have been enhanced tenfold, resulting in quite a remarkable specimen if I do say so myself. Oh, and do call her McKenna."

At that moment, accompanied by the aforementioned assistant, a teenage red fox with frizzy, somewhat wavy hair entered the room, her locks partially obscuring half of her face. She wore a plain white t-shirt and matching white pants, with socks that had grips on the bottom, her posture rigid and her expression blank and unflinching. The only indication of her being anything near lifelike was the subtle movement of her fingertips as she twiddled them in random, strange patterns, her presence casting an otherworldly aura in the room.

“I’ve taken the liberty of collecting a blood sample from Boomer,” Stellaria added, holding up a small vial of blood, the crimson liquid swirling within the glass under the harsh laboratory lights. “Just enough for her to show us what we need to know. As I’ve said, her clairvoyance is vital right now. When she tastes his blood, she can get somewhat of a profile of his energy, as well as be able to see things from his perspective. More importantly, the circumstances of his death. If you will, my dear?”

Saying nothing and retaining a blank, unflinching expression, McKenna took the vial that Dr. Versipelle handed her and removed the cap. Closing her eyes, she raised it to her lips and drank the blood sample, the action causing a flicker of repulsion to cross the faces of Alicia and Patch. For a moment, she was completely still, the bottle held to her lips, looking as though she was the subject of a paused movie frame.

When she let out a loud gasp, she startled all but Stellaria, her frame tensing as she gripped the lower right side of her neck, the place where Boomer was shot, her distress unmistakable as she seemed to struggle to breathe, the tension in the room thickening with each passing second. After a moment, her jaw squirmed, and she emitted a deep, guttural voice that bore a striking resemblance to Boomer's as she shut her eyes tightly. “That little bitch shot me!”

“Who did!?” Alicia interjected demandingly, her voice cutting through the tense silence, her eyes locked onto McKenna.

“The fucking kid! Who do you think!? She’s with him! We should have known!” McKenna groaned and gasped, her voice still laced with pain as she retained the same tone, clutching her neck tightly. When she opened her eyes, it was revealed her pupils were glowing red.

"Who’s ‘him’?” Alicia stood closer to her, her eyes narrowed as she knelt in front of McKenna. She clenched her fists in determination as she demanded to know the answer.

“OUR OLD KING, GENIUS!” McKenna roared before coughing violently and falling to the ground, writhing as she struggled to breathe and clutch her throat.

Dr. Versipelle, unfazed by the display that shocked Patch and Alicia, calmly pressed a button on her watch. In response, electrodes surged through McKenna’s body, causing her to jolt and become limp, panting as she tried to steady her breathing. Stellaria knelt down to the girl who lay helpless on the ground and helped her stand.

“You’re ok. It’s just energy. You haven’t been hurt, my dear,” Stellaria reassured McKenna, who whimpered as she reciprocated the hug she was pulled into.

“Mother…” McKenna whispered, her accent and voice now dramatically different as it became higher pitched and wheezy. Furthermore, the red light was once again absent from her eyes.

“Shhh… follow him back to your room for now and rest, my dear,” Stellaria requested gently, to which McKenna and her lab assistant obliged.

Dr. Versipelle’s demeanor returned to its typical formal state with a hint of cockiness. “In case you’re wondering, the electrodes help ground her back to reality.”

With Alicia and Patch in a state of horror, Patch, with his hand over his mouth, murmured, “Scourge…”

"He’s back!? How!? Fuck!” She roared ferociously, her voice laced with anger and disbelief. “he’s been behind everything. We’ll find him! When we do, we’ll ensure he NEVER sees the light of day again!”

Stellaria chuckled at the outburst, finding grim amusement in the situation. “Oh, that much is clear,” she spoke, her grin growing wider as she observed the raw determination in Alicia’s eyes. “I hope to work with you further, your majesty.”

[celedyn]

Celedyn’s Backstory: Extremely Annotated Edition

Very important disclaimer: while I enjoy deep diving into lore and using it as a foundation to make my own connections and conclusions, my connections are for my own entertainment and should in no way be considered “right.” If you have built different conclusions from the story, I absolutely love what you have done as well and truly, if we are RPing together I will not contradict you or tell you that you are wrong. Referencing canon can make some people feel on edge or scrutinized, but it’s important that while this post may go deep dive into where I pulled these bits of lore from it doesn’t mean my connection is the one true way. 

SPOILERS! SPOILERS! BACKSTORY SPOILERS! HE AVOIDS THIS SUBJECT A LOT SO YOU ARE UNLIKELY TO EVER PIN IT DOWN IN RP BUT IT IS STILL SPOILERS!

Regarding Celedyn’s age, while there are a lot of ideas about elven life spans out there, there is lore to support extreme longevity in the Quel’dorei. We had seen multiple examples of elves that were at least in the 2700+ range due to their participation in the Troll Wars (see in game book The Guardians of Tirisfal which is dated at 2700 Before Dark Portal and details historic events that take place after the conclusion of the Troll Wars. (https://wowpedia.fandom.com/wiki/The_Guardians_of_Tirisfal and backed up by Chronicles 1 pg 133) known participants : Anasterian, survived until 22 ADP. Galell survived until some time after 26 ADP. (Per Blood of the Highborne ch.1) Dar’Khan survived until 22 ADP then risen into undeath. (Per Blood of the Highborne ch.1) Liadrin, Lor’themar, Halduron (Per Blood of the Highborne ch.1) Alleria (Per the Warcraft Encyclopedia online entry confirmed canon by Sean Copeland and archived at https://wowpedia.fandom.com/wiki/The_Warcraft_Encyclopedia/Alleria_Windrunner)  survived to the current timeline. 

A real obscure pull is the Elven Engineers: survived from establishment of Dalaran (~2700 BDP per Chronicles 1 pg 134) to 22 ADP (“Prince Kael, the other engineers and I helped to build Dalaran's original defenses.” Warcraft 3 secret chapter The Crossing  https://wowpedia.fandom.com/wiki/The_Crossing_(WC3_BloodElf) 

Of course all of those seemed really really old until we got Lorash Sunbeam born in Tirisfal Glades (A Good War pg 50) where the Quel’Dorei first landed in 7,000 BDP (Chronicles 1 pg 118) placing his birth prior to their 6,800 BDP immigration to Quel Thalas (Chronicles 1 pg 120 and https://wowpedia.fandom.com/wiki/The_Founding_of_Quel%27Thalas ) and survived to ~34 ADP along with his mother born an undefined time prior to that and survived until the scourge invasion of Silvermoon 22 ADP. 

All this is to say that Quel’Dorei have a lot of room for maximum ages. I personally like the headcanon that subsequent generations of Quel’Dorei are less long lived than their Highborne ancestors because it leaves room for people who like a shorter lifespan, but Celedyn is OLD old and much like Alleria who gave birth to Arator in Outland while she was at least in the 2800ish range and is flawless and beautiful every time Blizzard puts her in a cutscene, he does not show it. 

Celedyn was a participant in the Troll Wars in that I treat it as a period that all elves were participants. It was a time that they were under so much pressure that complete extinction was eminent (“Clearly the trolls were winning”… “without assistance from Arator, the trolls would soon destroy Quel’Thalas” … “Teaching the arcane arts to the humans could easily lead to disaster. Yet as much as this possibility troubled Anasterian, his own people were facing exctinction.” Chronicles 1 pg 130) and I handle it as a period of martial law where the entire combat capable population was drafted into service with no room for civilians.

In contrast with contemporary Quel’Thalas, even with 90% of the population wiped out in the aftermath of Arthas’s attack we don’t see that same level of desperation. The Horde and the Alliance are sending emissaries courting Quel’Thalas to join them and when Lor’themar sends his letter of acceptance following the Forsaken’s assistance with Dar’Khan; his tone is much more that he is pleased they will not look weak than one of compromising for the purposes of survival. ( https://www.wowhead.com/tbc/quest=9621/envoy-to-the-horde  and https://www.wowhead.com/tbc/item=23930/letter-sealed-by-sylvanas)

Celedyn has foundational training in magic, which I treat as just having been common in Quel’Thalan schooling and life, but he was not a particularly exceptional spellcaster and he is gentle in nature and cowardly and unsuited to combat. Instead, most of his service during the Troll Wars was as a messenger and scout, where he could take advantage of his talent for running away to find a military unit capable of protecting him.

The elves already knew that arcane magic attracted the attention of the Burning Legion. (“Many of the high elves grew wary of their rampant use of arcane magic, fearing it could draw the Burning Legion to Azeroth once again. Dath’Remar sent his most powerful arcanists to find a solution. Over several decades they built a series of monolithic Runestones around Quel’Thalas’s borders. This barrier was called Ban’dinoriel, or “the Gatekeeper” in the high elven tongue. It would prevent others from detecting the elves’ usage of arcane magic” Chronicles 1 pg 121) (“The shield was tied to a series of monolithic Runestones, relics that prevented the Burning Legion and other outsiders from detecting the arcane magics wielded by the high elves. They also weakened the powers of their enemies, such as the Amani trolls.” Chronicles 2 pg 162)

Ban’dinoriel is a term used inconsistently in lore. It seems to be a blanket name for all of the multiple systems of protection around Quel’Thalas, including the two elfgate shields and the protective monolithic Runestones. 

As best I am able to decipher, the First Elfgate is tied to the protection from magical detection, offensive spells, and supression of hostile behavior from animals that surrounds the full borders of Quel’Thalas and is powered by the Monolithic Runestones. When Orgim had Gul’dan dismantle the monolitic Runestone at Caer Darrow, it restored their magic and allowed them to storm through Quel’Thalas. (With the Runestone desecrated, the Horde’s death knights and other spellcasters regained their powers” Chronicles 2 pg 164) Some form of repair may have been done to this barrier or potentially only to the Elfgate itself, because Arthas had to destroy this Elfgate on his march.

An additional barrier around Silvermoon is described as being summoned by magi during Ogrim’s assault and powered by the Sunwell at the time (“Their fire washes over the city but does not touch it, and their claws are repelled by an invisible barrier they cannot break.” “It is the Sunwell,” Gul’dan commented, turning back to take part in the conversation. “The elven source of magic. It gives them immense power.” Tides of Darkness ch 15) by the time Arthas is marching through Quel’Thalas the Silvermoon barrier is supported by a series of mooncrystals and it is also called Ban’dinoriel (“Thus interconnected, the crystals created a field of energy known as Ban’dinoriel - The Gatekeeper.” Arthas: Rise of the Lich King ch 19) 

Sometimes the second elfgate is treated as being part of the protections around Silvermoon city and sometimes it is interpreted as part of the protection around Eversong woods that is represented in game by Eversong still being lush and green while the Ghostlands is withered after being burned down by the red dragonflight, but your guess is as good as mine. (“Silvermoon City was protected by a number of magical barriers. Two were the elfgates, which were positioned at strategic points on the main road to the capital. The third and most powerful barrier was called Ban’dinoriel. It was an impenetrable shield that derived its power from the Sunwell.” Chronicles 3 pg 63)

People may have multiple interpretations for what all this means or if one defense superseded another or if there was a continuity error, but for the purposes of this post I will use Ban’dinoriel broadly for all magical systems of elven protection, including any systems that suppress offensive magic and any systems that physically block attacks or invaders, and I will only use Runestones when referring to monolithic Runestones. 

Bringing this all back to Celedyn, he previously had a fiancé, Ardoras. Ardoras was what would be presently called a balance druid, an expert on the astral connections between nature and the arcane. His shan’do was one of the creators of the monolithic Runestones and had trained Ardoras to assist with and one day be his successor in their maintenance.  

During the Troll Wars the first human mages are trained, and they are wildly talented (“Although the humans lacked grace and subtlety in their castings, they possessed a startling natural affinity to magic.” Chronicles 1 pg 130) but following the Troll Wars, Ardoras was upset with he way the human mages had been handled, that they had been given power without warning and that their elven teachers had taught them how to function as weapons but had not taught them of the risks or offered guidance on defense. He discussed all of this with his fiancé Celedyn and it fostered sedition in the pair as things worsened and the formerly nomadic humans began to establish permanent colonies only to have them besieged by the Burning Legion, still without the mages aware that they were the cause of the attacks. (The Guardians of Tirisfal https://wowpedia.fandom.com/wiki/The_Guardians_of_Tirisfal) 

The Quel’thalan druids were particularly sensitive to these assaults. They remembered well the risks that came from unchecked magic, and the choice that the first druid Malfurion had made to banish the arcane affiliated Highborne (To clarify, while the Sundering took place 10,000 BDP, the exile of the Highborne was not until 7,300 BDP and I assume that there were druids trained in that time that due to family ties and other relationships or simply using arcane as part of their own practices; who went alongside the exiled Highborne.) They knew that sharing the exact secrets of Ban’dinoriel’s protection would put the elven kingdom at too great a risk, but they could not stand idly by; and so they decided they would extend the barrier of protection themselves.

They didn’t explain why they had offered to gift an elven artifact to the nearby settlement of Caer Darrow; and the Barov family certainly wasn’t about to question it. In secret they had built another monolithic Runestone, bound it to Ban’dinoriel and delivered it to the island. Unfortunately, they had greatly overestimated the Barov’s capacity for discretion, and soon word of this offering reached the ears of the magisters.

What the druids did not know is that the magi that ruled Quel’Thalas the Council of Silvermoon, were already well aware of the problem and had a solution of their own in mind, one that would allow them a level of political influence over the human kingdom (“Having agreed that they could not prohibit the use of magic, the Council of Silvermoon and the magocragy of Dalaran decided on another solution. Together, they formed a clandestine order to deal with the demonic invaders.” Chronicles 1 pg135) and the druid’s solution of simply extending Quel’Thalas’s protection threatened their ability to monitor and control the human mages that were rampantly growing in both numbers and power.

The Council’s retaliation was swift and succinct. Overnight; magisters capable of manipulating the thoughts and memories of others (See the interaction in the Silvermoon bazaar. https://wowpedia.fandom.com/wiki/Priest_Ennas   While some people feel this level of totalitarianism was reflective of Kael’Thas’s reign, it is important to note that Silvermoon was never under his direct rule. After learning Anasterian and the Council had died during Arthas’s march on Quel’Danas, he destroyed the corrupted Sunwell, named Lor’themar his regent and immediately departed for Dalaran and later Outland) were dispatched, the druids of had their minds overwritten, and the history of their contributions to Quel’Thalas were erased (This is meta commentary relating to early concept maps featuring a world tree in Quel’Thalas  https://twitter.com/manaborne/status/1449913597950300162?s=46&t=lRdyqF10RdSWO2uXdPr8Pw that was then downgraded Thas’alah to just being a pretty cool tree, and the original manual for Warcraft II Tides of Darkness saying that the Caer Darrow runestone was placed by Elven Druids https://wowpedia.fandom.com/wiki/Warcraft_II:_Tides_of_Darkness_manual#The_Runestone_at_Caer_Darrowwhich was later changed in the Warcraft Encyclopedia to “Elven Magi”) 

Celedyn was not directly involved in the creation of the Caer Darrow monolithic Runestone, but he accompanied Ardoras, and he knew that what the druids were doing was in defiance of the ruling powers of Quel’thalas. Shortly after their return to Silvermoon, he came to visit Ardoras late one night after an evening of partying and debauchery and he found his fiancé calm and content and not recognizing him at all. He ran to get help from Ardoras’s shan’do but found that he was calm and content and not recognizing him at all. When Celedyn returned to his own home, he noticed the door was very slightly ajar. He turned around and he started walking and did not stop and that was the last time he saw Quel’Thalas. 

Bonus content for people who made it this far and presumably just love obscure citations about druidic presence in Quel’Thalas: 

See Emmarel Shadewarden, sent by the Unseen Path to fight alongside Talanas Windrunner against the Amani (“I fought alongside its first wielder, Talanas Windrunner, during an Amani troll incursion.”  https://wowpedia.fandom.com/wiki/Rendezvous_with_the_Courier#Notes ) I personally don’t interpret this was the contemporary invasion associated with the Zul’Aman raid. We are told that the bow Thas’Dorah has been passed though multiple Windrunner generations of Ranger Generals (Including Grandmother Alleria her daughter Lireesa, and Current Alleria who refused the title but took the bow then lost it.) and while one may interpret that Talanas passed down the title and weapon while he was still alive and simply survived until the contemporary Zul’Aman conflict where he met Emmarel, I am not aware of us ever seeing elven ascension working that way. Anasterian and Lireesa both passed their titles on when they died and Anasterian is treated as being past his prime while still retaining the title by the time Arthas is attacking. By the time the ZA raid came out, the title of Ranger General had already passed down many generations and I think that is because Talanas was already long dead.

Dath’Remar did step down as LEADER following the creation of Ban’Dinoriel (Chronicles 1, pg 121) but not explicitly as King and the King of Quel’thalas has not been the political leader since the establishment of the Convocation of Silvermoon (“The Convocation of Silvermoon was founded as the ruling power over Quel'Thalas, though the Sunstrider Dynasty maintained a modicum of political power. https://wowpedia.fandom.com/wiki/The_Founding_of_Quel%27Thalas ) I don’t put an upper limit on the start or length of the Troll Wars but it is note worthy that Talanas was declared Ranger General in them; and Current Alleria who is at least three generations removed also fought in them but she was not offered the title of Ranger General until her mother Lireesa died in the Second War (“It wasn't until the orcs allied with the Amani trolls and turned their attention to Quel'Thalas that the Highborne understood the true threat. Many elven rangers--including Lireesa Windrunner, the ranger-general--died in a bloody attack.”  https://wowpedia.fandom.com/wiki/Tales_of_the_Hunt#:~:text=Tales%20of%20the%20Hunt%20is,lore%20about%20the%20hunter%20artifacts. ) and YES dear reader that does mean Sylvanas was not originally intended to be the military head and only held the role for 2 decades at the most and maybe that’s why she’s not very good at leadership.

All that is to say I think there’s good lore evidence that for one reason or another the druids of the Unseen Path had some level of involvement in the Troll Wars, maybe as an investigation into the heavy use of Loa delivered by the Zandalari (“tens of thousands of troll fighters exploded from the shadowy forests. Monstrous loa demigods marched alongside the Amani, infusing their troll adherents with supernatural might” Chronicles 1 pg 129)

[savage-rhi]

Mending Shadows // Chapter 12

Summary:

Y/N was a simple Scavenger of Lucis, until meeting a deadly blow at the hands of an infected creature. At the crossroads of death, they are found by Niflheim’s cryptic Chancellor with his own agenda. Now bonded to Ardyn Izunia, and tossed into the world of Niflheim, Y/N struggles to cope with their new life as an Imperial Icon all the while battling their feelings toward their fate and that of Ardyn’s.

Click here to read on AO3

The airship landed with a gentle thud upon a field of grassland and trees. Not long after, did Ardyn and Y/N venture out of the shuttle once the area was assessed to be safe. The afternoon sun was intense, causing Y/N to shield their eyes initially when they stepped out into the world.

Ardyn raised a brow while he made his observations. He didn’t say a word and gestured for Y/N to follow him close. It had been a few days since he made his dark pact with Y/N, and the last thing he wanted was to lose them on the eve of finding out where the Medzin base was located. From a recent kingsguard Ardyn had interrogated, he knew they were getting close. It was not a matter of if but when they would find Outpost 98.

Stepping over debris, Ardyn made note of how quiet Y/N had been as of late. The process of scourge bonding wasn’t a common occurrence among daemonic entities, but that didn’t fully account for the near lifelessness they seemed to invoke. He cleared his throat, garnering Y/N's attention.

“Did you see something?” Y/N asked.

“No,” Ardyn shook his head. “I can’t help but notice you seem…off.”

“Off?”

He nodded. “Most people in your position would be sticking their nose in where they don’t belong. I haven’t so much as heard a peep out of you since the day we met.”

“I'm sorry then?” Y/N shrugged, feeling dumbfounded. “I’m in the mentality of I’m going to die at the end of this, so what’s the point in speaking?”

Ardyn chuckled. “You’re a diamond in the rough.”

He didn’t catch onto the faint smile that graced Y/N’s mouth, nor the little blush that crept across their cheeks.

“Ardyn,”

“Hm?”

“If you want to talk about something, all you have to do is say so.” Y/N remarked.

His head tilted to the side as he gave them a scrutinizing stare. “What makes you assume I want to confide in you?”

“I don’t know for sure, but it seemed like you were trying to give me an in.”

“An in?”

Y/N nodded. “Yeah, a way into a conversation. Like you want to talk about something, but don’t know how to broach it.”

Ardyn mused on the thought for a time before responding. “Perhaps you may be right. Well, I have these faint memories of yours lurking about my head, and you can say that I’ve been rather curious about them.”

“My memories?”

“Correct,” Sensing their apprehension, Ardyn gestured between himself and Y/N for emphasis. “It’s a residual effect from scourge bonding I’m afraid. I take it your occupation was a rather dangerous one?”

The startled look on their face had Ardyn stifle, wanting to laugh at their expense.

“I'm a Scavenger, er, was,” Y/N began. “We’re like Hunters, except we seek out rare treasures for folks who don't have the strength nor can take the risk. It didn't pay all the bills, but it was fun.”

“Ah, a thrill seeker!" Ardyn mused. “I didn’t believe you were the type.”

“I like having freedom, and not having a boss telling me what to do.” Y/N corrected.

“I’d argue that’s not the case,” Ardyn laughed.

“Why’s that?”

“If you didn’t like having a boss, you most certainly wouldn’t have agreed to this little union of ours.” He smirked at Y/N when their eyes met his. The glare they shot toward him was endearing much like a dog performing a trick. “And there it is.”

“Where what is?”

“That tiny gleam of fire I saw in you when we first became acquainted. I was beginning to fear it was lost. It’s needed for the tribulations we are about to endure.”

“Speaking of enduring,” Y/N’s voice trailed off while they gathered their thoughts. Y/N had been keeping many questions bottled up for the sake of coping with their end fate. However, there was something that dug at the back of their head. They let out a gentle breath, bracing themself for anything that was to come from this.

“You said you are Adagium,”

“That I did.” Ardyn muttered bitterly. “What do you know of it?”

“I heard tall tales throughout my life. How at the base of Angelgard, there lurked a monster that had been locked away by the founder king of Lucis. If the monster was disturbed on a night of a storm under a full moon, Eos would drown in a void. I thought it was superstitious prattle. Stuff to scare the the crap out of kids to get them to sleep.”

Ardyn chortled darkly. “Unfortunately, not so much.”

“So that’s your end game?”

“More or less. I’m destined to battle the king of light, as the gods ordained. Such a showdown is to have a reckoning. In the end, both shall perish.” Ardyn felt a pull in his stomach, and was unsure about entertaining Y/N any further. “Luckily for you, after Outpost 98 is taken care of and you’ve said goodbye to your loved ones, you won’t have to bear witness to calamity.”

“So the gods do exist…” Y/N’s voice trailed off.

“Sadly, I can confirm. They are dreadful creatures, not worth bending a knee to their ilk.” Ardyn huffed. "Consider yourself blessed you don't fall within their eyes.”

“Aren’t they keeping tabs on you though?”

The fear in Y/N’s voice amused Ardyn to no end. He could tell they believed the gods would strike them down at any moment. With a smile, he put a hand on Y/N's shoulder, giving a soft squeeze before letting them go.

“There’s no need to fret,” Ardyn began. “The only one that so much as cares about prophecy is the so-called Dragon King, Bahamut. Even then, we are ants to the likes of such entities. So long as the end game comes, they don’t care how one arrives to the destination.”

“Are you scared at all?”

The question took Ardyn by surprise. “Why would I have reason to be scared?”

“Well,” Y/N paused. “You said in the end, both you and the king of light will perish. I assume you’ll die. Does that not frighten you?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” Ardyn smiled knowingly. He raised a brow and decided to change the subject. “How old are you, anyhow?”

Y/N snorted. “How is this relevant?”

“Call it curiosity.” Ardyn chuckled. “And you’re going to die soon, might as well share some secrets before making yourself acquainted with the dirt.”

As morbid as the joke was, Ardyn’s nonchalance and sarcasm made Y/N quietly laugh.

“I’m Y/A,” Y/N replied. They gazed over Ardyn’s features. “You look like you’re in your forties, but I’m assuming you gotta be a couple thousand years old given the tales.”

“Forties?!” Ardyn exclaimed. He bellowed so hard with laughter that he could feel the muscles of his abdomen pulse painfully. So caught up in his own antics, Ardyn didn’t notice how red Y/N’s face was, nor the nervous look they wore until after he settled down.

“What’s so funny?” Y/N swallowed.

“Ah,” Ardyn sighed in relief. “I didn’t realize I haven’t aged gracefully until now. I happen to be thirty three, well 2,033 for the sake of accuracy. Even then, I'm probably off by a decade or more.”

“I didn’t mean to offend--”

“No, no, no,” Ardyn interrupted. “I dare not take offense! It’s refreshing to hear I look older. Aging is not an experience I will have.”

“So…you’re immortal?”

“Hmm hmm.” Ardyn nodded. “Until the king of light makes his debut of course.”

Y/N shook their head in disbelief. “How did you even wind up like this?”

“My kindness cost me everything,” Ardyn admitted with a low murmur. He himself was surprised at how honest his answer was.

“Did the woman that I saw have anything to do with it?”

Ardyn stopped walking and froze. He watched Y/N take a few steps ahead of him, before they too halted. Y/N turned around, and their eyes met his.

There was a tense energy surrounding them both that Ardyn could feel, and the scourge inside of his body pulsed with an uneasy tempo. Sadness and rage coincided against his eyes while he attempted to remain neutral. He could tell it was a meaningless effort on his part, for Y/N’s rigid body language told him that through the scourge, they had felt his misgivings--or at the very least--had an inkling something was off.

“I overstepped,” Y/N stated, swallowing nervously as they broke their silence. “I’m sorry.”

“I think it’s best if we don’t talk anymore,” Ardyn flatly said, and proceeded. He brushed past Y/N, not giving them a second thought. His whole demeanor shifted, and he was angry at himself. Angry that he had allowed sentiment to interfere with his pursuits.

There was no rhyme or reason for it at all, the conversation Ardyn had with Y/N. It was empty small talk, but…he did enjoy it. That further aggravated Ardyn as he shot a glare toward the ground, inhaling deeply. He didn’t dare have second thoughts now about what he intended to do with Y/N at the MedZin lab, but like an intrusive parasite, the idea of sparing them came to mind. He was dead set on Y/N taking the fall for everything, and vowed he wouldn’t show weakness.

“Ardyn,”

“What?” He nearly yelled, turning his head as Y/N came into his vision. He saw them flinch before they asked a peculiar question.

“Is there another reason, for why you imprinted your scourge on me?”

His gaze was stoic while he looked upon Y/N. He coldly uttered a single word.

“No.”

Ardyn pulled himself out from the past. He tore his eyes off some forms and his gaze landed on Y/N. He observed them putting books back on the shelf from afar before taking out another to ponder at. The conversation he had with Y/N leading up to the infiltration of MedZin repeated through his mind. No doubt due to whatever guilt he had been harboring since the night in Verstael’s lab. Not wanting to linger any further, he reminded himself of what had been accomplished since then.

A faint smile fell across his lips while Ardyn reminisced the weeks that had gone by in a blink, and how Y/N quickly picked up on most subjects he had assigned to them. Catching up on Niflheim’s history was easy, same with landmarks and points of interest. Only a fool would be able to tell Y/N apart from a Lucian in that regard. The only things Ardyn found Y/N lacking was cultural knowledge and of course, formal etiquette.

While Y/N attempted to nail down the mannerisms expected of higher end imperials, Ardyn had come to realize this area wasn’t going to be their strong suit. If there was anything he worried about on their behalf, it was this piece. What eased his doubts was coming to find that Y/N had ambition and a curious mind like himself, when allowed to thrive. The more he focused on that tenderness, a flutter would rise in his chest. It was enough to appall him, and Ardyn ripped his eyes off of Y/N and went back to focusing on the mundane tasks he was assigned.

“Y/N,”

“Yeah?” They hollered back.

“Would you mind grabbing some of those files for me?” Ardyn gestured with his left hand while his right held firmly to the sheet of notes he was attempting to read. He pinched the bridge of his nose and blinked a few times. It was in a vain attempt to get his vision to focus, but the blur still faded in and out of his eyesight. Ardyn didn't realize that Y/N had been watching the little scene unfold. Much less did he notice the look of concern that crossed over their face while their eyes drifted over him.

This was the twelfth time or so that Y/N had noticed Ardyn struggle reading during the month. Their curiosity surrounding the issue had grown, but they didn't have the courage to say anything. It felt too intimate of a task.

“Sure thing,” Y/N replied softly. They traveled over to a smaller desk within the library, and picked up the files Ardyn wanted.

Y/N could never have foreseen themself being this civil with Ardyn, but much had changed since they first set foot in Niflheim. After Ardyn had made his announcement of them to the imperial council, Y/N had been thrust into learning about the ins and outs of the empire. There was no time for either party to feed off mutual resentments, not when it dawned on Y/N that they needed to learn a lot within a short window. For several hours each day, Y/N had been assigned books to read and videos to watch. In the afternoons, when Ardyn was free of his responsibilities, did he spend time teaching Y/N one on one lessons. Each lesson consisted of formalities, the art of conversation, and mimicking cultural habits most imperials demonstrated like it was second nature.

Y/N recalled initially dreading the meet ups with Ardyn. The first week was the worst, for his mood was foul after attempting to catch up on all the things he missed while in Lucis. Y/N admitted they didn’t necessarily help with his disposition either. Between feeling angered at Ardyn for delaying his promise, and frustrated at themself for not picking up imperial etiquette, Y/N knew they had given Ardyn a run for his gil. So much that there had been many shouting matches. The only consolation to their arguing was that it scared off the Imperial Help that had overstayed welcome.

Y/N clutched onto the files while their mind traveled to the day their dynamic with Ardyn began to shift.

It started with Y/N noticing themself having mood swings, but nothing within the realm of normal. These emotions crept upon them like a snake emerging from it’s hide, only to slither back into the darkness. It reminded Y/N of when the miasma from the Goblin latched onto their body, except this didn’t feel ominous but familiar. Soon after, Ardyn began to behave irregularly. Each time Y/N endured a scourge flare, he looked uncomfortable no matter how hard he tried to hide it. Ardyn then came home one night after meeting with Verstael, and Y/N remembered the enraged look he wore when he announced that he wouldn't be feeding off of them; unless it was an emergency. He slammed the doors to his chambers in Y/N's face, and didn't utter a single word for days.

The confusion of it all swam through Y/N’s mind while the scourge kept them trapped in bed days later. They were unable to muster the strength to move even with the medicine Verstael had prescribed. It felt as if their bones had been caught in a vice, tightened to the point of fracture while a burn throbbed through delicate tissue. It was a jarring series of sensations, considering the outer part of Y/N’s body felt cold and stiff. Y/N had a morbid thought that this was what it was like to experience rigor mortis, although being very much alive during the process.

Y/N gazed around their room, trying to fixate on an object or something to distract their thoughts. They found themself frustrated at their lack of resilience. It was humiliating, to feel so weak all the time, especially when they had led an active life prior to infection. Sleep problems and memory issues were other constants. Y/N was surprised at Ardyn's patience with them due to mishaps regarding recollection. They wondered when the compassion would run dry. It was one thing to have tolerance for someone with a broken leg, but another ordeal entirely when it came to long-term chronic pain.

Y/N’s body flinched upon hearing the door open. They remained still, not wanting to amplify the current flare and it’s hold. They picked up on Ardyn’s heavy steps making their way over. It was a surprise to see him, considering he made it clear he wouldn’t return to his residence until nightfall.

“You’re back early,” Y/N remarked.

“So I am,” Ardyn sighed. He calmly approached the bed, sitting beside Y/N’s body, minding to not bump into them. In his left hand, he had a small bowl which he placed near Y/N’s feet.

“I’m amazed the emperor let you off the hook so soon.” Y/N teased, trying to play off their current misery and his as well.

“Only because of my good behavior,” Ardyn frowned while carefully brushing away a few strands of hair out of Y/N’s face, catching onto the scourge veins that climbed up their neck and collarbone. “You feel cold. Do you need assistance covering up?”

“No,” Y/N quietly murmured. They shuddered at the thought of anything touching them right now. “I don’t think the weight will help me. If you need to feed, it’ll have to be another time. I can’t do this right now.”

“That wasn’t my intention to begin with,” Ardyn said as a matter of fact. He gently touched Y/N’s skin where a large scourge vein was popping up and retreated his hand. “I can elaborate later. Right now, it’s not good for either of us to continue with feeds.”

Y/N was surprised at Ardyn’s response, finally getting somewhat of an answer for the change in their arrangement.

“So, if that’s not the case, then why are you here right now?” Y/N asked.

“You’re being quite interrogative I must say.” Ardyn smirked. “Can’t I enjoy being back within the confines of my own dwelling, after dealing with less-than-stellar men?”

“I know you. There’s always a catch. Even to your kindness.” Y/N stated bluntly.

“How observant of you.”

For a moment, Y/N thought he sounded hurt by the comment. It was enough to get them to feel a twinge of guilt.

“Really, why did you bail on your meeting?”

Y/N turned their head a little to look at Ardyn more carefully. There was contention in his eyes while he averted his gaze from them. He looked as if he was trying to solve a debate. Something was at odds himself.

“Unfortunately,” Ardyn let out a sigh and rubbed the back of his neck, still looking elsewhere. “Your personal agonies have had quite an effect on me today. I could sense your pain all throughout the summons. It was an irritable distraction. So much so that I took care of the necessaries, and excused myself.”

“So that’s why you’ve been so tense and grouchy.” Y/N whispered. Ardyn’s silence after the fact confirmed the answer. If Y/N had the strength to laugh, they would’ve. However, they merely smiled for a brief moment, laying their head back on its side while their right arm dangled towards the edge of the bed. “And here I thought you were concerned about my well-being.”

“On the contrary, I was worried about you.” Ardyn admitted.

“You’re not just pulling my leg?”

“Truly,” Ardyn gave a nod. “I’ve lived with the scourge for over two thousand years. I’ve had time to acclimate to its misery and strength. Our peculiar circumstance trudged up sensations I thought I was long incapable of. I forgot what it was like to feel such pain at a constant.”

“You’re welcome for the gentle reminder,” Y/N said sarcastically, smirking some. They were surprised to see Ardyn grin. He seemed genuinely amused by the comment.

“Your irritable charming sense of humor remains intact as ever.” Ardyn’s smile dwindled after witnessing scourge veins move further up Y/N’s face, covering their flesh in an intricate pattern that looked like a lightning strike. That’s when he caught the dam breaking in Y/N, seeing their eyes well up with tears.

“How long did it take before the scourge broke you in?" Y/N sobbed.

Ardyn was contemplative for a few seconds. His features became stoic, not wanting to sugarcoat the bitter truth despite a part of himself wanting to deliver the blow gently.

“Do you want my truth?”

“Yeah,” Y/N nodded against the pillow. “I do.”

“Very well,” Ardyn resigned himself to Y/N’s answer and began reminiscing about his containment at Angelgard. For a moment, he felt angered but it quickly subsided.

“I told you on the airship before we arrived in Niflheim, that it took eight hundred years. By then, my bodily sensations began to fade. When the first millennium had arrived, the pain of the scourge wasn’t necessarily gone, but compartmentalized. You see, being locked away in darkness alone for so long, trivial matters like physical awareness begin to not hold so strongly in the mind. Pain and physical needs became an afterthought, until I was reawakened at least. Even so, I feel numb most days.”

“I’ll never be rid of it, the pain, will I?” Y/N softly replied, feeling the weight of Ardyn’s words sink.

“No, no you won’t,” Ardyn murmured. “At best you’ll live alongside it, until your soul gives in.”

Y/N let out a deep breath they had been holding back. It wasn’t the answer they were hoping for, but they were appreciative Ardyn was upfront. There would be no mercy in their short lifetime. The scourge would forever play out its tortuous hold until death would come either through Ardyn’s hand, their own, or something else.

Ardyn gently cupped their cheek. Y/N's throat bobbed, feeling him stroke away at some of the damp spots on their face.

“How do you live with this?” Y/N asked.

The sincerity of the question had Ardyn freeze. He had never been asked something so personal before. Not even Verstael or the researchers who had poked and prodded him all those years ago brushed against such a topic. Like earlier, there was no easy way to answer Y/N. Not unless they were immortal themself and had been through his trials and strife.

“Little things, simple pleasures,” Ardyn said softly. His thumb continued to wipe away at their cheek, minding not to put too much pressure on their skin. “I keep telling myself there will be peace when I finish what I've set out to do.”

Ardyn could see through Y/N’s sadness that a light of curiosity was beginning to dwell in their tired eyes. Before giving them a chance to ask further questions, he cleared his throat and turned his attention to the bowl he had brought in. Carefully Ardyn picked it up and showed the contents to Y/N.

“What is this stuff?” Y/N made a face and sniffled. There were pieces of gauze in a milky green paste. The texture was grainy and it smelled pungently bitter.

“An ancient medicine from my time. It’s made from the stems of a flower called Renaya,” Ardyn mused. “It helps with scourge inflammation.”

“I’m not eating that,” Y/N said bluntly. “Or putting it anywhere near my mouth.”

Ardyn snorted. “I assure you, I wouldn’t be so cruel. It’s a salve. You apply it to the skin and let it dry.”

Y/N smiled faintly then braced themself. They knew they would have to move around for Ardyn, and the thought was just as painful as the sinking feeling their entire body felt.

“Where does it hurt the most?” Ardyn asked.

“My sides and my back,” Y/N admitted. “I don’t know if I can budge. Not without breaking down like an idiot.”

“You’re only an idiot for saying such things. Even then at best, I’d call you a moron.” Ardyn teased. He smiled hearing Y/N chortle from his comment. His expression faltered after Y/N winced. He gestured with his free hand in a 'come here' motion to encourage them.

“I don’t think I can--”

“You will,” Ardyn assured. “Lean up for me, I’ll meet you in the middle.”

There was no point in arguing with him. Not when Ardyn sounded determined as he was. Y/N let out a sigh in defeat, giving a nod and slowly started to rise. The tingling in their hands and feet increased as did the muscle spasms. Y/N gasped aloud with heavy breath. There were no words that could be formed, only agonized moans.

Ardyn placed the bowl back down on the bed and quickly brought his arms around Y/N’s body. He pulled them close to his chest in a light embrace.

“Do I have permission to pull up your shirt--?” Ardyn was cut off by the rapid succession of nods Y/N gave. He wasted no time or effort in lifting Y/N’s arms up after carefully pushing them back. Ardyn tugged their shirt off, casting the article of clothing to the side. He averted his eyes to the left so as to respect Y/N’s modesty, and then turned their body around so that they faced away from him. His arms carefully guided Y/N back against the mattress.

“You’re doing well,” Ardyn commented, making sure Y/N was lying on their stomach before proceeding to grab the bowl. He glanced over Y/N’s bare skin. There was an endless highway of scourge marks that reminded him very much of his own; a lurid network of black lines that looked like spilled ink.

“Ardyn, it hurts--”

“I know,” Ardyn himself tensed as he suddenly felt a pinching sensation in his lower back. The feeling mimicked the movement of Y/N’s scourge veins that were contracting. Ardyn likened it to an itch that couldn’t be scratched on his end, but he knew very well, no, could feel how it tormented Y/N. He leaned forward, brushing back some of Y/N's hair so he could see their face.

“After I’m finished, I can see about getting it to settle down. Would you be opposed to that?”

“N-no. I wouldn't be.”

Ardyn hummed in response. He dipped his right hand into the salve and coated a generous amount of the mix onto his fingers. Carefully he selected a few test spots on Y/N’s back to see if they would have an allergic reaction. The care and thought behind his actions reminded Ardyn very much of his healer days. How this protocol remained second nature despite his rage tampering out most reason was beyond his understanding.

Y/N shuddered and let out a hiss from how freezing the salve felt. If they could compare it to anything, the feeling reminded Y/N of fresh mint being chopped. How the proteins in the plant released a cold sensation in one’s mouth upon eating it raw. They closed their eyes, sniffling while a soothing wave began to take root at where Ardyn had placed the solution. It wasn’t enough to make the scourge disappear, but the medicine numbed the nerves.

“You may feel some pressure from my fingers. I promise I don’t intend on harming you.” Ardyn spoke softly. After making note that he didn’t see any red bumps or other cause for concern, he started applying more. His hand carefully pressed into Y/N’s back with the gauze pieces and he rubbed circles into Y/N’s flesh, ensuring the oils from the salve would soak into their pores. The scourge jittered from the contact but stayed put while he carried out his ministrations.

“Have you…ever done this before?”

Y/N’s weak words caught Ardyn off guard as he momentarily paused then proceeded to pick up another gauze piece from the bowl.

“Many times,” Ardyn said as a matter of fact. “I was, shall we say, a medical professional in the past. A healer. I learned all that I could about medicine when I was a boy.”

Y/N blinked while glancing toward a shelf of books. Much of Ardyn’s life had been a mystery to Y/N minus knowing he was the legendary Adagium. It was strange to hear him sound nostalgic.

“I can’t imagine how difficult learning was 2,000 years ago. Especially with the lack of technology. You must’ve struggled, trying to gain all you could.”

“It wasn’t so bad,” Ardyn shrugged while his thumb carded over some of Y/N’s scourge veins along their upper back. “Being of noble blood, I had access to all the knowledge available at the time. Scrolls and books were a commodity I could easily trade for. If I had been born in a lower caste, it would’ve been another story. I admit I had privilege where others lacked.”

“You were a noble?” Y/N furrowed their brows.

“A future king, to be precise.” Ardyn smiled sadly. He made a face, wondering if he should proceed further and then decided to test the waters. “My brother and I were both destined to rule. You may know of him as Somnus, the founder king of Lucis. Today I’m known as Izunia, but long ago, I was known as Ardyn Lucis Caelum. Your king and his forebearers are my descendants.”

Y/N’s eyes widened from the revelation. “So that��s what you meant, when you said you were once a citizen of Lucis.”

Ardyn didn’t say another word, letting his divulgement sink into the depths of Y/N’s psyche.

Suddenly, the tidbits that Ardyn had sprinkled throughout various conversations began to merge, creating a larger puzzle that Y/N didn’t believe to be possible. Never did they thought Ardyn would be so forthcoming about a burden such as this. While Y/N didn’t have the whole story, they knew something terrible must’ve happened between Ardyn and Somnus. Their brain was rampaging with theories, contrasting with how miserable their body felt. To say Y/N was overwhelmed was an understatement.

“That’s incredible,” Y/N tiredly remarked. They sensed that this was a sore spot for Ardyn after he didn't reply, and decided to change the topic. They could always ask questions later. “A lot of men in Eos don’t have a passion for healing. Someone must’ve inspired you.”

“My mother actually,” Ardyn admitted. He decided to follow Y/N's direction, thankful he wouldn't be pulled into an elaborate discussion he wasn't in the mood for. His throat bobbed at the memory of his parent. He couldn't recall the last time he had spoke of her, and was astonished at how much he still remembered. "She came from a long line of healers. Some dated back to the first humans of Eos. Traditionally, medicine secrets were passed from mother to daughter. Since my brother and I were sons, the teachings should've died with her."

“How come?”

“Her side of the family had a superstition that such knowledge didn’t belong in the hands of men. Somnus didn’t find the subject interesting, but I did. My mother broke protocol to teach me. It infuriated many of her relatives and was quite the scandal. They went so far as to proclaim she had cursed all of Eos by handing down the secrets to my hands."

“Was there any truth to that?” Y/N mused, but shortly had an epiphany the jest was in poor taste.

“They were right I suppose. I ended up becoming the accursed Adagium. Perhaps my fate had been sealed even that far back.” Ardyn sighed.

“I’m sorry, that was a shitty thing for me to say.”

“I’m not offended,” Ardyn calmly stated then smirked. “I find it rather comedic in a morbid sort of way.”

Y/N smiled weakly. “What became of your mom?”

“She died young,” There was a bitterness in Ardyn’s tone as he proceeded. “A third child was to be had, but the infant perished within her and she alongside it. My father shortly passed from grief. That is what Somnus and I were told, anyhow. I believe he was assassinated. Tensions were high between my father and other noblemen at the time. I wouldn't call it a mere coincidence, but I played along for the sake of keeping the peace."

Y/N felt a heaviness in their heart. There was a weight to Ardyn's words that conveyed he had lost more than just his loved ones. He had lost his innocence.

“How old were you?”

“Sixteen,” Ardyn replied. “Somnus was thirteen. My father’s shield Gilgamesh helped in raising us. Being the eldest, I took care of my brother as if he had been of my own making.”

“That’s a lot of responsibility to put on a kid,” Y/N said while letting out a sigh of relief, feeling the medicinal effects of the salve rooting into them. “Is that why you’re Niflheim’s Chancellor, because you’re used to that kind of hardship?”

“Raising Somnus and learning to rule a country wasn't a burden. I was quite honored at the time.” Ardyn said genuinely. He frowned, yet again debating with himself if he should share more with Y/N regarding how he arrived to this position of power. Whether it was due to the scourge bond he shared with Y/N, or his own pitiful loneliness that he denied, Ardyn couldn’t stop his mouth from moving while he applied another strip of gauze to Y/N’s back.

“This current role--being Chancellor--was forced upon me,” Ardyn paused while his shoulders tensed. “I wanted for nothing.”

“Then what did you want?” Y/N asked.

“Pardon?”

“I mean…why did you comply with being Chancellor if it's not what you wanted? I may not know everything about you, but I know you're powerful. More than you let on. You could do anything you want and no one would stop you."

“Let’s just say the ends justify the means,” Ardyn admitted. That much he would allow himself to reveal for now. “I desire rest. An old thing like me doesn’t belong in your time.”

Y/N's heart began to sink on his behalf. The sorrow in his voice was genuine, and triggered a deeper reaction. Tongues of daemonic entities cried through Y/N's ears in hushed whispers. Y/N's hands gripped the mattress to stabilize themself. They feared if they closed their eyes, they'd disappear into the thick of it. The scourge was agonizing, but this unresolved desolation that combed through their blood took it to another level. It was as if they could sense how Ardyn felt just now; that he truly didn't feel that he belonged in this world or any hereafter.

Y/N's eyes welled up with another round of tears. Perhaps they had been wrong about him in many ways. He understood exactly where Y/N was coming from, wanting to fade away. This scared them a great deal.

“For what it’s worth,” Y/N forced themself to say through the experience. “I’m glad you’re here.”

Ardyn had stopped rubbing the salve into Y/N’s back. He had half a mind to accuse Y/N of being dishonest. Even the entities that dwelled within Ardyn’s psyche tried to encourage him to feed off Y/N for making him have a moment of weakness. The voices grew louder until he had to get up from the bed and set the bowl somewhere else.

Y/N couldn’t see where Ardyn had ventured off to in the room, but the steps of his boots gave them a rough idea. Y/N sensed his presence on the other side of the bed, then felt a weight shift on the mattress. The sound of his shoes being discarded along with his vest shuffled in Y/N’s ears. The mattress dipped again and Y/N felt Ardyn scoot close to them as if to cuddle. His chin dug into the top of their head while he lay on his side. The touch of his calloused fingertips caressed against Y/N's back, and they let out an involuntary groan while sensing Ardyn's scourge call out to theirs. Y/N could feel him draining the darkness out from every nook and cranny their body felt to the point of contact. They felt him shudder, and heard him muffle a discomforting grunt.

"You okay?"

“You’re quite the naïve fool,” He responded indignantly, ignoring Y/N’s question. His features softened and he sighed in defeat. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“Does it matter?” Ardyn asked, genuinely curious.

“I guess not. Not all things need to have an answer.”

Y/N could feel the heat of Ardyn's mellow breath hit their scalp. Goosebumps raised along their flesh.

“I called you a burden before, a dead weight.” Ardyn whispered. “You have my apology.”

Y/N smiled a little, furrowing their brows while recalling their past fight. As the flare began to tamper down from a forest fire to little embers, Y/N felt their eyes succumbing to rest. Their breathing stabilized and it wasn’t long until they began to drift away, surrendering to sleep.

“I forgive you.”

“Y/N,”

“Hm?”

“The files, dear. I need them.”

Ardyn’s somewhat irate tone in the present caught Y/N off guard. They suddenly realized they had been staring off into space for a while. Letting out a huff, Y/N ventured over to the couch where he was sitting, and handed the files off to him.

“Your majesty,” Y/N quipped, giving a performative half bow.

“Imbecile,” Ardyn rolled his eyes. He countered with a playful scoff. “By the way, if you curtsey like that in front of the imperial councilmen, I’ll have you hanged.”

“Please, don’t threaten me with a good time.” Y/N laughed, watching Ardyn return to his task.

There’s no way in six hells we would’ve been doing this a month ago… Y/N said to themself. There was still much about Ardyn that Y/N didn’t know and vice versa, but it seemed he was becoming more or less comfortable around them.

Before Y/N forgot, they took out the bottle of suppressants from the pocket of their pants, and downed two pills; thankful they made enough saliva that didn’t warrant them needing a drink. While the scourge hurt, it wasn’t unbearable at this time.

Y/N studied Ardyn afterward, observing him once more squint while reading. Y/N had come to find that when Ardyn was passionate about an assignment, he was quite the chatterbox. It was strange seeing him so quiet and focused. The way Ardyn had spoken of his job in passing, Y/N assumed he wasn’t one to take it seriously. That despite essentially being the second in command to the emperor, he could care less. What he was demonstrating now would suggest otherwise.

“Would it be dangerous to ask what you’re reading?”

“In most circumstances, yes. Especially with you being a Lucian.” Ardyn sighed and put the papers down, deciding to give himself a break. “I suppose I could enlighten you. What exactly do you wish to know?”

Y/N hadn’t thought that far ahead and stumbled mentally. It didn’t help that Ardyn didn’t look amused as time went on.

“If its a matter of national security, you don’t have to speak up. You seemed tense and I wanted to know why. I was just--”

“Bored of the homework I have given you?”

“No,” Y/N was quick to interject. “Why would you assume that?”

“Because I'm feeling rather bored and miserable myself. “ Ardyn chuckled while he slouched more into his seat, relaxing his spine. He contemplated while staring at Y/N. “You see, I’m trying to decide where to allocate resources regarding Niflheim’s war with Lucis. I unfortunately took this upon myself the night I announced you to the council. This task has been quite a messy affair. I need to figure out who gets a hefty sum from the treasury by the end of the week. Unlike other matters I can put off, this one needs tending to.”

“That sounds like hell,” Y/N said bluntly, furrowing their brows while imagining themself in Ardyn’s shoes. “You don’t have anyone else helping you with this stuff?”

“Nope,” Ardyn said as a matter of fact. “That's the business of being Chancellor, everyone looks to you for guidance and not the other way around. Comes with the territory I’m afraid.”

“Do you want a second opinion?”

Ardyn allowed himself a moment to process what was said and eyed Y/N with curiosity and amusement.

“Why would you help me with something so trivial? And last I heard, I believe what you’re offering would be considered high treason in Lucis. Conspiring with the enemy? That very well could get you killed!” Ardyn quipped, letting out a dark laugh.

Y/N made a face, knowing he was being sarcastic yet the mischievousness of his tone rubbed them the wrong way.

“We both know I’m not going home because I’ll be dead by your hand,” Y/N countered. “And maybe I’m tired of seeing you look miserable for hours on end while you hallucinate worst-case scenarios.”

They got me there…Ardyn thought to himself and leaned up from the couch. “I suppose I can’t argue with you there. Why don’t you read the top page, and tell me who should get first priority.”

Y/N watched Ardyn scoot the documents across the small table in front of the couch to them. They let out a breath, and carefully picked up the stack.

Y/N could feel Ardyn’s eyes on them the entire time they read through the document. There was something nerving about it, but Y/N didn’t comment on the matter, too focused on what they needed to read. There were paragraphs of text pertaining to soldiers, weaponry, and food storage. The way things were worded made Y/N realize how much different Niflheim was compared to Lucis in terms of grammar and format. Some parts might as well have been in a different language.

After giving the page a thorough look, Y/N peered up and met Ardyn’s eyes. He gestured with his right hand for them to speak up.

“Do you want my honesty?” Y/N asked.

“But of course!” Ardyn gave a small bow with his head and smiled.

“I’d give most of the funding to ground troops. The rest I’d split between the Research Department, and the local economy.”

Ardyn hummed and leaned forward to reach for the paper that Y/N had read. Once they handed it to him, he glanced through the text. "What's your reasoning?"

“Well,” Y/N bit the inside of their mouth before looking at a piece of paper in the stack that had more of Niflheim’s financial information and began pointing out some of the expenditures.

“From what this says, the commanders of the units don’t anticipate a shortage of magitek soldiers for another year. There’s no point in overfunding that. If I were a political figure, I wouldn’t want to piss off the everyman on the battlefield. It says the losses are beginning to stack up. The people should be given a boost in aid while they fight, otherwise, what’s to stop them from switching sides especially if they see Lucian soldiers being well taken care of? Technology is important, but if you're not taking care of the people behind it, good luck swaying anyone else to give a darn. The Research Department has enough funding as is, and Niflheim’s economy is strong, but there’s so much going to the war effort that citizens aren’t enjoying themselves. If the people at home aren’t happy, it’s not going to bode well trying to convince other countries that Niflheim is in the right.”

Ardyn quietly contemplated. He looked up from the paper after running through all the scenarios he could think of then smiled, almost as if he had been put in check during a game of chess.

“I’ll need to have the accountants work out the math, but I’ll consider this affair case closed.”

“So,” Y/N was dumbfounded. “You’re going through with my opinions?”

“Well, why not?” Ardyn shrugged. There was genuine sincerity in his eyes as he looked at Y/N fondly. “I was initially opposed, however, you brought up a valid point with public morale. I’ve received a handful of complaints from Commodore Araena regarding civilian unrest, and our Deputy Commander has made numerous disputes about his men not receiving enough aid. They both can't be making these situations up especially when a third party--you--have more or less arrived at the same conclusion."

“Wow,” Y/N murmured in surprise.

“You’re astonished?”

“I just can’t believe I helped with something huge like that. I’ve always been neutral with politics cause I want to avoid conflict, and I don’t want to sound like an idiot in front of others.”

“I assure you, you’re not an idiot. A bit naïve, but none too foolish,” Ardyn’s lips quirked into a half smile. “Your insight into one’s psyche has been most useful. It may sound monstrous, but I tend to not think of the basics that men need to survive and thrive. You gave me a gentle reminder .”

Gentle reminder…Y/N repeated the words back to themself. He said it with the same playful tone as Y/N did when Ardyn applied the medicine to their back that day. If they didn’t know better, he did it on purpose much like how he was staring at them right now with contentment. Y/N felt their pulse skip a beat as Ardyn rose from the couch, and took a step toward them.

“Chancellor Izunia! Chancellor Izunia!”

Tuti’s loud pitched squeak of a holler had Ardyn stop in his tracks and he grimaced. He sighed and rubbed his face, focusing his attention onto the bubbly Imperial Helper as she came barreling into the library. Words couldn’t express how much he wanted to assign the woman elsewhere, but he knew Y/N would be none too happy with that arrangement. He had the urge to shove the woman into a dumpster and be rid of her childlike antics.

“Yes, Tuti?” Ardyn asked point blank, pulling himself away from temptation.

“A pardon to you both!” Tuti glanced between Y/N and Ardyn before giving two bows. “The Deputy Commander, Chief Besithia, and an envoy from Accordo wish to have an audience with you before the gala tonight.”

“Seriously, on the eve of the empire’s founding day?” Ardyn irately raised a brow in suspicion. “Did they specify what for?”

“N-no sir,” Tuti shook her head. “Um, they weren’t specific b-but they said it was matters concerning security for tonight.”

Ardyn sighed. “Very well. A favor then while I’m gone?”

“A-absolutely!” Tuti exclaimed.

Ardyn looked at Y/N. He smiled at them as if he knew something they didn’t and savored watching the awe of suspicion fall across their face before addressing Tuti.

“Take Y/N to the Freyr district. There’s a shop called the Vanir. I want you to help them pick out an attire for the night on my gil. I’m sure your insight will be most useful.”

Y/N began to protest. “What if I pick something that’ll make me stand out too much, or what if I end up looking like a clown?”

“Then you’ll make a decent clown, now won’t you?” Ardyn laughed at their expense.

“What if I get sick in the middle of shopping, or I lose my way?”

“Hence, why Tuti is accommodating you.” Ardyn answered with a chuckle. “This is not an affair I wish to be a part of anyhow. I don’t particularly enjoy dictating what people choose for dress.”

“Ardyn, I don’t think I can--” Y/N gasped when Ardyn stepped forth and gently grabbed both of their hands into his, clasping them tightly. Y/N stared at where their palms met before meeting his amber eyes.

“You will.” Ardyn reassured. He leaned forward just a tad, and squeezed their fingers before he whispered. “You’re ready.”

Y/N swallowed back whatever words wanted to spill from their tongue.

“I’ll see you tonight.” The determination in Ardyn’s features along with the sly smile curbed the anxiety Y/N felt in the pit of their stomach, yet the bubbling in their chest didn’t cease. It didn’t stop not even when Ardyn withdrew his hold, and gave his final pleasantries before leaving.

Y/N stared at the entrance to the hallway, watching until Ardyn’s form had fully disappeared from view. Their pulse rose, and the scourge slithered against their veins in a hum that dare say felt pleasant.

“S-so,” Tuti’s giggled stutter pulled Y/N out of the odd sensation. “If I didn’t know better, those were heart eyes!”

“Oh shut up!” Y/N begrudgingly exclaimed. Tuti flinched, and covered her mouth to stifle the rest of her laugh.

“I only speak in jest!” Tuti said in her defense. “But, really, I think Chancellor Izunia has quite the confidence in you! It’s amazing. You’re going to be meeting so many important people within the empire!”

Y/N furrowed their brows, hearing the morose sigh that left Tuti after her proclamation. “Are you not attending?”

“Heavens to Betsy, no!” Tuti shook her head. Her peppy persona took a step down as she glanced about the library. Y/N had come to find this was a nervous tic of Tuti’s when she felt uncomfortable with a topic. The same could be said for her little jest.

“I’m an Imperial Help and my duties are to keep the palace orderly. So while I will be “around”, I won’t be seen on the main floor with the guests. D-do you think you could do me a favor?”

“Sure,” Y/N nodded. They were beside themself, not knowing how to comfort her.

“Please tell me everything you can about the gala when it’s all said and done!” Tuti smiled warmly. “I always love events like this, but, y’know, lower caste and all…if this isn’t too much trouble?”

“It wouldn’t be a problem at all,” Y/N smiled, not before furrowing their brows when they had an epiphany. “Honestly, having a task like that in the back of my head might save me from making a fool out of myself.”

“Oh you poor dear,” Tuti frowned, and offered a half smile as she gave Y/N’s right shoulder a gentle pat. “Are you feeling nervous?”

“Terrified,” Y/N scoffed and chuckled nervously. “I’m scared of fumbling, and if someone finds out I have--”

“The scourge…”

“Yeah,” Y/N breathed. “I don’t know how to save myself from that outcome.”

Tuti nodded. Her eyes once more scattered around the library, making mental notes of spots she needed to clean at a later time. She then warmly smiled at Y/N.

“After everything I’ve heard you been through, why with running away from Lucis after what those soldiers had done, braving a storm to find sanctuary while sick with the starscourge--and through that suffering--find the strength to be a bridge between Lucis and Niflheim, I think the higher imperials would be idiots to treat you less than. N-not that I want everybody to find out you’re sick--I hope my words aren’t coming across as such.”

Y/N felt a wave of guilt in their body at how sincere Tuti was on their behalf. A part of them wanted to tell Tuti the full truth, that their story was a huge lie that Ardyn concocted to hide both their sins. Y/N had recounted the tall tale so many times to the Imperial Help that came in and out of the residency, that they were beginning to believe it themself. They had to for the sake of this elaborate act.

That’s all it is… Y/N said to themself. It’s just a big play. Perform your role, and then the curtains will come down…it’ll be over soon.

“Y/N,”

“Hm?”

“A pardon for interrupting your thoughts,” Tuti laughed. “But I think we should get going! I’m dying to show you some of the other shops in the area! You’ve got to see the Infernium Theater too! C’mon!”

And with that, Tuti was on the run to get ready. She nearly left Y/N behind in the dust while the latter stood in the now empty library. Y/N glanced at the couch where Ardyn had been seated. The faint hum returned within the scourge, like the tingling sensation one would get if their foot fell asleep. It reminded Y/N of how their body reacted when Ardyn grabbed their hands, and they couldn’t help but wonder if he felt strange too.

[gangshuffle]

Thank you @selanpike for this hot SSPSPI yaoi, its horrid! Love it. 💕

[ontdah]

Scrutinous Scourge & Debonair Despot

——————

SS: hey

SS: hey des

DD: Yes, sir?

SS: go wrangle up the boys

SS: lets go fuck shit up

——————

SCRUTINOUS SCOURGE: The visionary who build Marvel Capital from the ground up. Blinded after making a Contract with a mysterious entity, he leaves the title of leader to his right hand man- but all his boys know who's the real boss. A carefree spirit- don't let that fool you into thinking he's an idiot, however. There's a reason Scourge had a grip on the city's underworld before the Flux showed up.

DEBONAIR DESPOT: Publicly known as the head of the Mutinous Cabal. A former Dersite soldier who now fights to keep Marvel Capital a city the average man can sleep sound at night in. He's ferociously loyal to Scourge- having made a Contract with a strange creature of his own just like his boss. Let it be known he's a man who knows exactly the prices that oughta be paid for peace.

[cbk1000]

Please enjoy these select passages from the works of Amanda McKittrick Ros, an Irish writer self-publishing in the late 19th century to early 20th. Under a cut because I’ve included quite a few quotes; see how many you can get through without drinking!

‘Sympathise with me, indeed! Ah, no! Cast your sympathy on the chill waves of troubled waters; fling it on the oases of futurity; dash it against the rock of gossip; or, better still, allow it to remain within the false and faithless bosom of buried scorn. Such were a few remarks of Irene as she paced the beach of limited freedom, alone and unprotected. Sympathy can wound the breast of trodden patience,—it hath no rival to insure the feelings we possess, save that of sorrow.’ (This is the opening of one of her novels.)

‘Within the venerable walls surrounding this erection of amazement and wonder may be seen species of trees rarely, if ever, met with; yea, within the beaded borders of this grand old mansion the eye of the privileged beholds the magnificent lake, studded on every side with stone of costliest cut and finish; the richest vineries, the most elegant ferns, the daintiest conservatories, the flowers and plants of almost every clime in abundance, the most fashionable walks, the most intricate windings that imagination could possibly conceive or genius contrive.’

‘Though a man of forty summers, he never yet had entertained the thought of yielding up his bacheloric ideas to supplace them with others which eventually should coincide with those of a different sex; in fact, he never had bestowed a thought on changing his habits and manner of living, nor until fully realising his position of birthright, that had been treasured by his ancestors for such a lengthened period, and which, sooner or later, must pass into strangers’ hands, did the thought ever occur to him of entering into the league of the blessed.’

‘Arouse the seeming deadly creature to that standard of joy and gladness which should mark his noble path! Endow him with the dewdrops of affection; cast from him the pangs of the dull past, and stamp them for ever beneath the waves of troubled waters; brighten his life as thou wouldst that of a faded flower; and when the hottest ray of that heavenly orb shall shoot its cheerful charge against the window panes of Dunfern Mansion, the worthy owner can receive it with true and profound thankfulness. Three weeks had scarcely passed ere Sir John was made the recipient of another invitation to Dilworth Castle. This second effusion of cordiality required neither anxious thought nor prolonged decision how to act, knowing as he did that it would again serve to bring his present thoughts into practice by affording him another opportunity of sharing in the loving looks of one for whom he feared there dwelt a strong inclination on his part to advance his affection.’

‘”Have you ever visited that portion of Erin’s Plot that offers its sympathetic soil for the minute survey and scrutinous examination of those in political power, whose decision has wisely been the means before now of converting the stern and prejudiced, and reaching the hand of slight aid to share its strength in augmenting its agricultural richness?"’

‘Her blending complexion just now contrasted beautifully with the richness of her abundant brown hair. Her superbly formed eyes of grey-blue, with lightly-arched eyebrows and long lashes of that brownish tint, which only the lightly-tinted skin of the Arctic seal exhibits, looked divine.’

‘"Henry Edward Ludlow Gifford, son of my strength, idolized remnant of my inert husband, who at this moment invisibly offers the scourging whip of fatherly authority to your backbone of resentment..."’

‘At this stage Irene began to consider seriously the earnestness that accompanied the words of Sir John, knowing well she had been guilty, grossly guilty, of the charges with which he impeached her, and which were mixed with child-like simplicity, descriptive only of a world-famed bachelor. She pondered whether or not honesty should take the place of deceit—too often practised in women—and concluded to adopt the latter weapon of defence. Raising her hazel eyes to his, and clearing the weft of truth that had been mixing with the warp of falsehood to form an answer of plausible texture, fringed with different shades of love, she thus began...’

‘She tried hard to keep herself a stranger to her poor old father's slight income by the use of the finest production of steel, whose blunt edge eyed the reely covering with marked greed, and offered its sharp dart to faultless fabrics of flaxen fineness.’

‘"Could a king, a prince, a duke – nay, even one of those ubiquitous invisibles who, we are led to believe, accompanies us when thinking, speaking, or acting – could even this sinless atom refrain from tainting its spotless gear with the wish of a human heart, as those grey eyes looked in bashful tenderness into the glittering jet revolvers that reflected their sparkling lustre from nave to circumference, casting a deepened brightness over the whole features of an innocent girl, and expressing, in invisible silence, the thoughts, nay, even the wish, of a fleshy triangle whose base had been bitten by order of the Bodiless Thinker."’ (Wat?)

[styxnbones]

for sev: 4, 10, 11, 19 :)

4. Why did you give them the name they have? What is the in-universe reason for their name?

I was actually super stumped on what to call them bc mentally I had just been using "sombie!harper" while i was stating them out and my brain really did not want to let go of calling them Harper bc that's,, yk,, the character I actually wanted to be using. But I did decide they should get their own name, if only so I could at least try to make them distinct from Harper. So I basically just spammed the random name generator on Behind The Name until it spat out "Vsevolod" and I went "huh. 11th century slavic prince eh? sounds exactly like the kind of shit a transmasc closet nerd with russian heritage would pick. could shorten it to Sev for everyday use." Then I realized that actually Sev hadn't come out to anyone until after they got embraced, so they wouldn't have ever actually used that name, but I still wanted to keep "Sev" so I justified it as being derived from "Sever" which was the nickname they got from their Sabbat pack.

10. What is your favorite trait regarding your oc? tie between all his traits that are actually harper's

It is actually the Forced Redemption Arc, though, which I did steal from Harper. I just find that aspect of "I will be a better person, not because it's the right thing to do but because I have literally no other options and I'm going to hate it the whole time" really fun to explore with/inflict on a character. I also specifically enjoy how Sev's version of it compares to Harper's because in some ways Sev is a lot farther along in it than Harper is, but also they haven't had nearly as much ground to make up or put in nearly as much effort. Like, Sev was 10 Years In The Sabbat evil but they weren't Killing And Eating Whole People For 30 Years And Liking It evil. They also have only had to get to a point of being acceptable for a Camarilla neonate, (if an ambitious one), rather than a heavily scrutinized Scourge who's continued existence is balanced against how well they can thread that needle. And on top of that, the big thing that Sev is covering up is the fact that they're caitiff and ex-sabbat rather than the fact that they're actively a cannibal. idk idk it compels me

11. What is your least favorite trait regarding your oc? the fact that they aren't harper

🫵 (at sev) BOOTLICKER!!! Not to the same degree as Harper because he hasn't had nearly as much time to perfect the art of kissing ass, but he's well on his way. I don't think they'll ever be quite as bad as Harper, though. Circling back to the contrasts between Sev and Harper's arcs: Sev has a much easier time being Civilized TM but he also chafes a lot more under authority. Part of his attitude that lends a lot of credence to his cover is that he clearly would prefer to be the one pulling the strings, rather than getting yanked around himself.

19. How might your oc react to finding out you are the one responsible for their life?

Oh, Sev would straight up kill me. No hesitation. Then they'd go have an existential crisis over their newly shattered belief in free will. Then it's like a 50/50 whether they kill themself or decide to pretend the whole thing never happened and carry on like normal.

[aforerime]

The plush futon provided little comfort for Uraume's unsettled mind. Uncoupled from Sukuna aroused the festering scourge on their brain. The pain bore kinship to a distant migraine. The scourge pestered, repudiating all necessities to exist. Logically, they understood their close proximity to Sukuna afforded reunion; however, their desire to remain a consistent presence rotted their soul.

Their vacant gaze stared at the darkened ceiling of the Hanok's living room. In their trance, they attended to the nocturnal cityscape beyond the wooden walls. Drifting cars, muted honking, and the occasional, momentary blaring music suddenly deafened to a strange, overwhelming silence. Uraume abandoned the futon and cautiously moved to the nearest window; they observed the towering mist cascading from its defensive structure. The misty wall tidal waved over the city, collapsing into the beds of the metropolis. They bided their time observing the transition of the ominous fog, instinctively aware Sukuna adeptly scrutinizing the anomaly from his quarters. A moment past and the bellowing silence persisted, and they surmised the city stood at the precipice of peril-- a slow, grin stretched across their porcelain face. They swiftly crossed the wooden hallways to the threshold of Sukuna's bedroom.

Submissively, they lowered to a knee and awaited for Sukuna. The next course of action fell on Sukuna's decision; whatever he desired to do, Uraume willingly welcomed it. However, the itch to investigate the oddity grew within their restless and bored soul.

❅ @bimeval