#since i did not plant or cultivate those plants

[art]

Creator Spotlight: @tinypaint

My name is Michelle Fus. I’m a Jewish, non-binary artist. I graduated from the School of Visual Arts for Computer Art and Animation in 2011. I’ve interned at Pixar and worked for a few years at Dreamworks Animation. Over the past ten years, I’ve self-published two books and have run three successful Kickstarters. I now work with Skybound (The Walking Dead, Invincible) in developing my webcomic, Ava’s Demon, as a physical book series for stores. I like hiking, cultivating plants, caring for my cats, and hanging out with my beautiful husband. You can read my webcomic at avasdemon.com.

Check out our interview with Michelle below!

How did you get your start in art, and more specifically, with Ava's Demon?

I’ve always been into art since I was very young. I started to gravitate towards it in first grade, where we were required to keep a daily journal. I found myself drawing in it more than actually keeping entries. From there, I got more and more interested in honing my skills as an artist. I started making my own comics for fun. I signed up for classes outside of school and put together a portfolio for the School of Visual Arts, where I majored in Computer Art and Animation. After getting my first job in the field, I realized that it wasn’t what I wanted to do with my life. After working my day job, I would come home and work towards building a career in comics for myself by creating and uploading my webcomic, Ava’s Demon.

What is one habit you find yourself doing a lot as an artist?

Looking things up to learn more before I make art or write. For instance, how many livable planets are in a Galaxy? What does a black hole actually look like, and can it give off light? How long would it actually take to travel through space if you had the fastest ship possible? I look up all of these things and then ignore most of them for the sake of writing a fun story and making fun art.

From idea to final piece, how long does it take for you to create something?

It depends on the feeling I want to convey. Sometimes I’ll work for a whole week on a drawing and then delete it because I just don’t feel good about it. Other times I’ll make something in a day that I absolutely love from beginning to end. Some drawings I never delete nor finish, and instead, the files just kind of sit in a folder. The time it takes varies a lot.

Over the years as an artist, what were your biggest inspirations behind your creativity?

I really love good stories. So movies and books with captivating stories usually motivate and inspire me; stories that stay with you permanently, with twists and turns that you can’t stop thinking about. I also love finding characters whose struggles I can deeply relate to. I try to hold onto those feelings and emulate them through my art.

What is the hardest part of your process?

Actually finishing a drawing. The anxiety of it piles on me sometimes. I’ll work for a while on a drawing and constantly ask myself, “Is this drawing really finished? What terrible things about it am I not seeing?”. My desire to avoid making something terrible can sometimes put me in a mental prison where I keep chipping away at a drawing until I no longer know what I am looking at.

What is one interaction you had from a fan of yours that has stuck with you over the years?

In general, I like letting young artists in middle school, and high school know that I wasn’t very good at art at their age (I really wasn’t, I didn’t have the same resources they have now, and I didn’t have any perspective on what it takes to have a career in art, it’s a different world). Kids have come to me at conventions with their work for critique and advice, and I have to tell them that they’re already miles ahead of what I could make at their age. I have to tell them that it’s okay if they can’t make what all the professionals make online, to know that they have SO much time ahead of them to work at what they love. If you love making art, do it often, study art throughout history, and over time you’ll be able to create everything your heart desires.

What is something other people find hard to draw that you find enjoyable?

I have no idea. Sometimes it feels like drawing anything is suffering, even if you like what you’re making.

Who on Tumblr inspires you and why?

@loish has been consistently inspiring me since my days in high school. Every new painting has so much grace and power and is so excellent to look at. Her skill in shape and form seems limitless, and I hope to someday achieve even a small fraction of her understanding of art. Seeing her new work on my timeline also makes my dopamine spike, so I’m always looking forward to updates from her.

Thank you so much for stopping by and sharing, Michelle! Be sure to check out their Tumblr blog over at @tinypaint and follow their webcomic, Ava’s Demon, over at avasdemon.com.

[ohwaitimthewriter]

The scent of memory

Pairing : (implied) Caesar x human reader

Warning: FLUFF

Summarize (you'll never see me write a good one 😭): You started to cook a meal dear to your heart when a certain ape decided to pay you a visit.

Words: 2K

A/N: I tried a little something, I hope you'll like it! Enjoy your reading 😊 I lowkey feel a bit insecure about this one but shhh I just wanted to get this out of my mind

Masterlist.

There were surprises every day. Ever since you joined Caesar's clan, you'd spent your time learning what your human life had never taught you: to use what nature offered and adapt it to the needs of the community.

And there was a lot to learn. So Caesar asked Maurice to teach you, to teach you the way of the apes. You were a quick learner, but you never gave yourself too much credit: Maurice was a good teacher, patient and clear in what he showed you. Regardless of the activity, he always found the best way to help you master the techniques for weaving ropes or fine plant stems and knotting them, for whittling wood to create stakes or notches, for carving stone to make weapons… Maurice taught you to identify plants and mushrooms, the edible ones, the healing ones, the poisonous ones. One day, he even took you with him into the forest to learn how to track small game. Not that hunting was one of your favorite activities, and even if you still needed a bit of work in that area, being able to find and track game added a usefulness to your presence within the clan.

Being useful. That was all that mattered to you, and often, when night fell and Maurice left you to your own activities, you continued the work. You'd weave again and again until you obtained the exact density and solidity you were looking for. You could spend several hours whittling a piece of wood to the right angle or thickness. Carving stone required more strength and dexterity. You often ended up with scratches on your hands, but if that meant being useful, then you'd take all the cuts and scratches necessary to master these techniques.

With Maurice, you learned the manual stuff. But there was one last thing you needed to learn. Something that took time to communicate: sign language.

Caesar always found a moment in his day to teach you. You weren't sure why he'd appointed himself as your teacher for this language, but it gave you the opportunity to spend some time with him. And over time, you learned to savor those brief moments when he showed you a new word.

Moments of peace.

It was a strange thing to feel serenity in the face of this force of nature that was Caesar. Strong, powerful but also fair and caring. All he had to do was stand there, and all eyes were on him. He attracted loyalty and respect like a magnet, and everyone was bound to succumb to his power. And yet, in contradiction to the unsettled beating of your heart, you felt a deep sense of calm as you spent these moments beside him.

You looked forward to his daily interventions, brief and occasionally strict if you didn't place your hands correctly to form a word, as if they were a reward.

Yes, you spent most of your time learning.

However, on rare occasions, you did have time for yourself, or rather, you allowed yourself to take this time after lessons, without practicing. You mostly used it to wash your clothes or cook. On the days when a touch of nostalgia crept into you, you cooked meals from your old life. Back when you still lived in the city.

You couldn't always find all the ingredients you needed for the recipes you now know almost by heart, but you always managed to replace what was missing. Thanks in no small part to Maurice's teaching. And when you cooked, a sweet aroma would delightfully fill the space of your hut.

Tonight was one of those days when nostalgia rang at your door. You had decided to cook a ratatouille. A simple, unadorned meal, but one in which most of the ingredients were available to you in the village: cultivating the land was also one of the things you had to learn.

You carefully chopped your vegetables, some of them already immersed in an old iron pan you'd picked up on one of Maurice's supervised outings. The aroma of the tomato melted deliciously with that of the onion, and each portion of vegetable you added to your preparation pleasantly tingled your nostrils. You remembered how, as a little girl, you used to complain that you still had to eat vegetables while your mother sliced them with a smirk on her face: “You can decide on your meal when you grow up, and to grow up, you need to eat vegetables”. At the time, you thought this was the smartest thing a person could say, and it couldn't be further from the truth. Vegetables made you grow and when you grew up, you could choose not to eat them.

You inhaled deeply, savoring the fragrance's journey through your body until it reached your lungs. You almost wanted to hold your breath, letting the aromas mingle and swirl, but perhaps too soon, you exhaled, opening your eyes. How long had it been since you closed them? You weren't sure, but your heart skipped a beat when your gaze fell on the one of an unexpected ape.

“C… Caesar?”

His name falling on your lips was the signal that you had just become aware of his presence. He had watched you lose yourself in your thoughts and chosen to remain on the threshold of your hut, not wishing to disturb your deep reflections, whatever they might be. So he waited for a gesture, a mimic, a simple sign that you had become aware of his presence, before stepping forward.

As he drew closer, a tantalizing scent came wafting up his muzzle, and you couldn't help noticing his nostrils taking in a few breaths of the aroma. In fact, he glanced at your pan placed directly on the small fire, showing you that he had just identified where the smell was coming from.

Caesar plopped down beside you, always sitting so that he could read what was going on in your eyes. He often made the excuse that this way, you could more easily see and learn the words he was signing to you, which was true, but secretly, he enjoyed being able to study the slightest expression that ventured across your face.

And you were obviously entitled to a surprise quiz on your knowledge of sign language.

Caesar took care to sign slowly, stopping when he saw a doubt creeping into your eyes, sometimes repeating the sign that was obviously causing you difficulty in understanding, until you were able to correctly state the question he had just asked you, not without a touch of pride at your success.

“ You're not eating with the colony?”

You think for a moment, looking at your hands to try to find the right gestures.

“ Want to spend some time… ”

And when you couldn't find the right word, you said it out loud again.

“Alone.” You finished, silently asking him about the right sign for this word.

He looked at you for a moment, taking in your answer, before giving you the sign for the word “ alone ”. You repeated it to memorize it, and Caesar simply nodded when you signed it correctly. A comfortable silence settled between you and he glanced once more at the vegetables simmering quietly. The delicate sound of crackling food blended perfectly with the crackling of wood being devoured by flames.

You weren't done adding the last ingredients, and you took Caesar's silence as a signal that he wouldn't be asking anything more from you right now, so you set about crumbling the fresh thyme stalks on top of your preparation.

Caesar stared at the vegetables, their sweet aromas tingling his nostrils in waves, and when your hands appeared in his field of vision, he couldn't help but watch your fingers meticulously work around the thyme stems, creating a shower of tiny leaves over your meal. And as the food bubbled, the scent of thyme mingling with the other vegetables wafted up from the pan. For a brief moment, he felt as if a magic trick had been played on him, and his green eyes found their way to yours.

He knew about cooking. He knew that humans cooked every meal they ate, with the exception of a few that could be eaten raw, such as fruit and certain vegetables. He'd seen, and sometimes even tasted, when his humans' backs were turned, some of the meals and cakes they'd left on the table in the living room of his former home. But if he'd seen the finished products, how they were made remained a mystery. Will had never taken the time to show him how he cooked his meals. So there was something… wonderfully intriguing about seeing you at work.

Your gaze was still on the pot, and as you stirred the ingredients with a piece of stick from which you'd peeled the bark, you took a deep breath. Caesar watched your eyelids flutter and close as a smile crept over your face, as if a distant memory had just gently brushed over your mind.

You felt at home, and Caesar could have fallen even deeper in adoration at the serene, contented face you offered him, if he hadn't forced himself to avert his gaze, which he knew was sometimes too intense for you to bear. It was something he took note of mentally when he looked at you intently with the simple aim of learning the core of your entire soul. When his eyes settled on you for a little too long, you had this habit of rolling your shoulders, as if to rid yourself of some invisible tension, a self-conscious smile tacked to your lips, while your arms wrapped tightly around your chest to protect yourself from his inspection.

Caesar decided to keep his gaze on the contents of your pan, figuring it would be easier to suppress the gentle tingling sensation that was creeping traitorously into the pit of his stomach.

“It's… a meal that… my mother used to cook for me.” You spoke fondly, but with a hint of incertitude in your voice.

You didn't talk much about your past, just as Caesar didn't talk much about it either. Hearing you mention a memory that seemed to be cherished in your heart, though not sure it was the right thing to do, had softened the usually serious expression on Caesar's face.

Caesar nodded quietly, accepting your recollection as a gift, a token of trust. Even if these memories were attached to humans and to life before the release of the apes, they were memories that made you who you were today. Not allowing or accepting them would be like not accepting… you. And Caesar was already far beyond that.

You smiled again, your gaze lost in your memories. It was hard for him to understand how a simple scent could take you so far in thought, but after all, it wasn't for him to judge the complex emotions that must have been running through you at that moment.

“The same food?”

Caesar's gruff voice caught your attention, and a hint of joy lit up your face at his sudden interest in your past.

“Not quite.” You replied, still smiling. “I take the peppers off, I don't like them,” you giggled.

He huffed, slightly entertained by what seemed to be hiding a more detailed story you'd shared with your mother and didn't yet want to tell.

The smell was so tempting, it was hard to deny it. He watched you pick up the pot using a thick piece of cloth, so as not to burn yourself, and serve you a portion of food in a bowl. It was then that he caught himself thinking that maybe, some day, you'd agree to share with him this meal that seemed so dear to you.

[meowmeowmeowmeow4x]

Dark Blue Moon and the Suffering Sun Chapter 4

Damian's face twisted in disgust at the offending object.

Phantom's quirked in confusion. He nudged the massive striped bass towards the smaller siren. "What's wrong?"

"I am a vegetarian." Damian huffed. "And it's raw."

"Oh. Uh, whoops." Phantom shrugged. "I don't know how to break it to you, dude, but, like... There's not much better to eat out there."

Damian glared at him. "I would rather starve."

Perhaps he was being too stubborn. With a buffoon of a companion such as this, the situation was better treated as a survival scenario than a mere mission. Damian was no fool. Vegetarianism was a luxury afforded to those with the food abundance to choose.

That, and it had been a solid sixteen hours since his last meal. His tail felt sore and aching in a way he hadn't felt in years. His stomach growled and groaned, demanding something to fill it.

The last time he felt a hunger like this was when he was still in the League, when they sent him out on weeks long missions where he starved under moonlight and ate birds and rats to survive.

"Come on, Damian, you need to eat something." Phantom cajoled, as if his puppy-eyed look could ever match that of Richard's. "And the seaweed's not gonna sustain you. Believe me I tried."

"Are sirens obligate carnivores?"

"No, but-"

"Then tell me why I cannot sustain myself off of kelp and seaweed?"

"Dude, those things have literally no calories in them."

A valid point, but just because he was right did not mean Damian had to cede the point so easily. "Is the siren species so primitive as to not have cultivated plants in order to sustain their population?"

"I literally don't know how to answer that dude. Do I look like an ambassador or something to you?"

Damian frowned.

"Look, it's getting late and we'll need all the rest we can get. I promise it doesn't taste that bad. We'll try and work something out tomorrow, how's that?"

Damian sighed. "Very well, but only because I very my life, thank you very much."

"Thank god for that..."

Damian unwrapped himself from his tail, and approached the poor fish. "I am terribly sorry, fish. I will not let your sacrifice be in vain." He muttered.

He looked up to find Phantom with a small knife, cutting up the fish into messy fillets, like this was the first time he'd done so. Peculiar. Surely he had lived off fish his entire life, and had deboned many before this moment.

"Just so you don't get poked in the mouth by a bone or two. Those things suck."

Phantom offered a strip of meat. Shutting his eyes, Damian took the food, and shoved it into his mouth, chewing minimally before swallowing.

The taste was... acceptable.

More than acceptable. perhaps.

It would be a shame to let the fish's death go to waste.

...

Damian sank his teeth into the side of the fish, eyes almost rolling into the back of his head from the taste.

Some time later...

Danny floats back into the cave, a handful of kelp bundled up in his arms. "Hey Damian, look I know this situation sucks for you, like in every way, so I went out and got some greens for you, just so it's not all meat and- Wait, Damian?"

The boy in question slept fastly, his fins gently drifting back in forth in the small currents caused by Danny's entrance. His head was slumped against the bass he'd brought in earlier, little strips of fish still stuck in his teeth.

Now that he wasn't making faces and being angry at Danny, he was honestly pretty cute.

Danny wiped some of the bits of meat off Damian's cheek, careful not to scratch his soft scales with a misplaced claw. Despite being so small, Damian managed to chew through a sizable portion of the fish that was easily half his size or more.

Setting the child's body to the side, and draping a small blanket over him, Danny set to finishing off the rest.

He hoped everyone back home wouldn't worry too much. If the GiW boats didn't clear out by tomorrow, then they were in for a big problem. He and Tucker were working on making waterproof earpieces, but they weren't ready yet, and his waterproof phone had been left in his room when he'd rushed out to get Damian back. That meant no communication with Amity Island whatsoever. No way to get in contact with Bruce Wayne, and no way for his friends to know he and Damian were ok.

He was really in over his head, wasn't he?

The morning came with a very loud wake up call.

"YO BABYPOP!"

Danny jolted awake and bumped his head into the nearest desk overhead. "Who's attacking us?!"

Beside him, Damian jerked himself into a defensive stance (or as close to one as he could manage.)

The curtains of the cave were pushed open, allowing streams of sunlight to stream in and blind the boy with its glare. Peeking into the cave was the head of one Ember McClain, a vicious grin plastering her face.

"You never told me you got a kid!"

Damian chirped indignantly.

Danny sputtered. "Whawhwh Wh Wait a second!"

Ember pulled out of the cave, and squealed. "Yo Kitty! Dipstick's got himself a kid!"

A woosh of water rushed past, and Kitty's neon green and teal scales showed themselves. "Omg! Phantom aren't you like fifteen? What the heck?!"

Danny blushed deeply teal. "He's not mine I swear!"

Ember pushed Kitty out of the way. "Oh my gosh he's so tiny. Who's the lucky woman?? Or man??? Phantom what have you been getting up to without us?!"

Damian hissed at him from behind Danny's shoulder (when did he get there?) "Begone, harpies! And cease your accusations! I would sooner perish than be related in any way to this incompetent fool."

Ember trilled in adoration. "He's so freaking adorable. Where did you get him, Babypop? An orphanage??"

Danny would've done a spittake, if he was above water. "W-what?! Dude, literally where would even find an orphanage around here?"

"Did his parents dump you on him like Johnny was?"

"Uh I'm not even gonna question that."

Ember clasped her hands to her mouth in scandalous shock. "No way, did you finally turn to the dark side and kidnap him?"

Damian piped up again, gripping on Danny's shoulders with his unsheathed claws and rising higher. "Nonsense, I claim no familial relationship with this person, not by blood, law, or emotion. He is as close to me as any stranger would."

"Ouch Damian. I literally saved your life."

Ember and Kitty chortled and shorted. They clutched their bellies and lead against the walls of the cave. "It's just... PFPFTT Phantom you total scoundrel, ahah!"

"Yeah yeah, look I gotta get this kid back to his dad on Amity, and quick. He's probably losing his mind over there."

Kitty gasped. "So you did turn him."

Danny shushed them. "Don't scream it out for the whole ocean to hear!"

He rushed out the entrance of the cave and shooed them in, covering the doorway up as they entered.

"Look I'd really, really rather you guys keep this on the down low. This is kind of a huge deal right now." Danny said.

He turned to Damian, still perched on his shoulder, his little tail brushing against Danny's ghostly white sail. "Is it ok if I tell them?"

"if it will convince them to vacate the premises."

"If you have to know, Damian's the son of some ultra rich guy. Skulker got him for whatever reason, and I was forced to turn him."

"Dude, Skulker went for a literal child?!" Ember clenched her first, likely hiding her extending claws. Right, Skulker was a bit of a touchy subject for her. "Of his own kind, no less?!"

"That's fucking low, girl."

"And now the GiW are going crazy too. Probalby got a huge donation or whatever. We're just waiting untli they go away so I can get Damian back to his dad, without any dissections. That also means none of you guys should be going near the place either."

"Pfft, too late for that."

Danny froze. "Who did they get?"

"Relaaxx, Dipstick. I was just preparing another concert, only for like fifty boats to show up out of fuckin' nowhere. Luckily I heard them before they saw me, but come on! I was miles from Amity at that point!"

"Miles?" Damian whispered.

Danny felt the same way too. They were only increasing their patrols now, shit.

"It's bad enough that the rest of the Pod are freaking migrating. We haven't migrated in years!"

"Yeah, actually, Phantom you wanna join us? I know you have this whole, err, thing, with Amity Island, but we hardly see you. And Johnny's been itching for a rematch."

Danny looked over his shoulder, to where Damian was lost in thought. This might have been the first them he'd seen the kid not glaring.

"Thanks for the offer, but I need to get Damian home. It's my fault he's like this, and he's got a whole family out there waiting for him."

"Don't you too?"

Danny swallowed a thick of water. He did have a family, a family that was probably going crazy. But at least part of that family, and his friends, knew he could take care of himself, knew that he was a siren, knew that the water was his element. Damian's family didn't have that luxury.

"We'll figure it out."

The girls shared a look, and shrugged. "The offer still stands, Babypop. Oh, and i'll be sure to fuckin' dice Skulker next time i see him, lying, cheatin' bastard.

For a moment, the boys watched the two siren teens' trailing tails, before they turned a corner and disappeared.

"Gotham."

"What was that?" Danny asked.

"If Amity Island is inaccessible to us, then we have to go to Gotham."

"Isn't Gotham-"

"On the East Coast? Yes, it is. It's our only option."

"That's thousands of miles, and you can't even walk!"

"Would you rather we stay here, waiting for the GiW to approach us and kill us both?"

Danny clenched his jaw. Damian was right, wasn't he.

"The only way to reunite me with Father is to go to Gotham. They will not be expecting us there."

"How can you be so sure?"

Damian dislodged himself from Danny's shoulder and floated in front of him. "Because they are unaware of the sirens' power of transformation, am I correct?"

"Good point, but wait, how did you know that?"

"I did some cursory research before coming here. The prevailing theories put forth by the supposed 'experts' on the matter asserted that sirens eat their human victims, with no mentions of turning. They have no reason to believe I am not dead., and no reason to suspect any siren activity in Gotham."

"And you're ok with that. Thousands of miles of swimming in the endless ocean full of things wanting to eat you?"

"Are you not?"

"Ok ok, calm down." Danny had to chuckle though. Rich as this kid may be, he was definitely not spoilt enough to sit still and wait for his dad to save him.

"And the fastest way to get to Gotham is via the Panama Canal." Damian puffed his chest out in what was probably pride. Danny stared at him, dumbfounded.

"You're kidding, right?"

"Have I ever jested to you before?"

"No seriously. The Panama Canal. You realise that place is monitored up and down, right? Literally the moment we get spotted, the locks are gonna, you know, lock down, and then we'll be stranded and sitting ducks to be chopped up by the GiW."

"That will not be an issue. You possess the power of camouflage, do you not? And again, they will not be expecting us in Panama, so they will have no reason to bring any sonars there."

Danny wanted to bang his head against the wall. This idea sounded so stupid, but not stupid enough that it was unfeasable.

"In addition, you said it yourself. Your negligence resulted in my permanent loss of humanity, so it is your responsibility to do whatever you can do right your wrong."

Shit. Came with being the son of a businessman, didn't it? This kid was guilttripping the hell out of him and Danny could honestly not say he didn't deserve it.

"Fiiiine. We're going to Panama."

"Excellent." Damian grinned. "Let us leave immediately."

Danny could only pray that none of the 50 things that could go wrong, did go wrong, but when was his luck ever that good?

No, instead, Danny strapped in whatever supplies he had laying around in the cave. To Panama we go...

[wackyharpy]

Merchant's Daughter (Part 1)

God! Aemond x Human•Fem! Reader

Summary: In order to ease the wrath of one of the Gods, the girl among humans is chosen to be gifted to him.

Part 2

To find more stories — masterlist

A/N: I'm inspired by a lot of things, by Greek mythology, by Beauty and the Beast story. Especially credits go to @flowerandblood. Some of her fanfics planted a seed of the idea for this story. I hope, you'll enjoy it! Reblogs and comments are always appreciated :) And English isn't my native.

Warnings ⚠️

Mention of death, typical treatment of women those times, she/her pronouns

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

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Once the world was different. Humans shared it with other supernal beings — children and creatures of Gods who ruled those times. Back then miracles filled the surroundings — here and there ehoes of satires' and nymphs' wild dancing could be heard in the dead of night, taken by the wind from the concealed domicile somewhere in the forests or fields, and brought straight to the towns where mortal people resided.

Fishermen spread legends of beautiful women with colorful fish-tails whose voice could enchant one and become the death of him. Sailors told about orphic castles barely visible in the fogs of the sea.

Humans were always weak and foolish, bonded to their towns and houses, lived their short mortal nugatory lives. They couldn't comprehend the broadness of the world, the depth and beauty of it.

Gods tried to take care of them, their miserable children. They gave them lands, rivers, domestic animals and fish. They taught them how to cultivate fields and grow crops, how to exploit fire. At times, humans got punished for their sins, Gods abhorred misbehavior of their gawky children. Frequently, they didn't even cast a glance at them, being immersed into their divine scandals and disputes. They didn't invite any humans to their heavenly palaces, nor did they marry earthborn men and women. Some Gods and Goddesses might have laid with beautiful representatives of the human race. Still, nothing more.

It was so only until one moment.

The calm day didn't foreshadow anything violent. Until the evening, when the sunset was painted in scarlet. Something terrible happened in the heavenly palaces — one of the Gods blood was spilled. That night the residents of the town near the sea didn't see the moon. Instead, the night sky was pitch black as the abyss of Chaos which the universe emerged from.

The God of Murk and Affliction lost his eye to his nephew — the God of Joy.

But, little Lucerys escaped the wrath of elder Gods and remained unpunished. After all, they couldn't harm him in order not to cripple him or knock all the joy out of him that he shared with mortals — such was his endowment. The issue remained unresolved, and angry Aemond was forced to live with one eye since then.

In a century, he met his nephew again, above the sea. There was no way to escape the God of Murk and Affliction that time. The little God was hopeless. And Aemond put his nephew through tortures, through his revenge which he had been nurturing in his dark heart for many years.

That evening the residents of the town near the sea saw a scarlet sunset once again. And in the hour of the owl, claps of thunder rumbled in the pitch black sky. The storm of madness swept across those lands — the herald of the victory and death simultaneously.

The sudden sadness and fear filled the hearts of people. The God of Joy was dead. His two eyes, cut out of the sockets, turned into two precious stones with yellowish glow. Still, there are gossips that they can be found at the bottom of the deepest sea.

Since then, there was no joy as such on the earth, people no longer took it for granted. If they wanted to be happy, they had to find things that could bring merry into their miserable lives.

But darkness and fear remained, more diseases developed among people, life became tough. Servants of the God of Murk and Affliction began residing together with people, punishing them for their indifference they showed on the day Aemond lost his eye. Nobody stood for him at that time. Everybody thought they would get away with it. Though, the Gods, humans, and other beings are paying off for their negligence now.

Plague, Doom, Pain, Fear, and Sorrow are terrorizing people. They have infiltrated into the towns' walls, they are hiding in the shadows, every now and again preparing to attack a poor mortal soul.

The Gods and supernal creatures are trying to avoid the lands where the God of Murk and Affliction lives, being well aware that they can meet their death in the form of Vhagar — Aemond's monstrous beast, so enormous as a mountain.

Many centuries passed in the town near the sea. One day the Goddess of Wisdom bestowed the place with her presence and shared a piece of advice with people.

Opt a young maiden girl, and gift her to the God of Murk and Affliction. As a mighty man he is, he won't refuse to satisfy his carnal needs with an innocent mortal girl. It may sooth his wrath a little, and he may order his servants to stop terrorizing humans. At least, not frequently. One girl isn't a big price comparing the whole humanity.

And so was it. The government, the judges, and the public presented the most beautiful virginal girls to the heavenly court. The choice fell on the youngest of merchant's daughters — a poor being who was soon to be sent to the remote lands, right into the hands of the ruthless God.

The day her family was preparing her to the long journey, she was silent and pale. It seemed that all liveliness faded away from her eyes. Before going out to the carriage, her mother sat with her in the chamber to conduct a woman talk.

Be obedient. Do what He orders. Be flexible. It doesn't matter that he's a God, still he's a man that isn't deprived of needs that even humans possess. Your feminine power isn't between your legs, first of all it's in your mind. Use your head in the right way, and who knows, perhaps, even the God of Murk and Affliction will fall on his knees in front of you. The doings that a man and a woman perform in the bed chamber aren't always about pain, it may bring a great satisfaction and fulfillment for both of them.

At that time the words of the woman had no sense for the girl. But she only nodded, believing her mother. After all, the merchant's wife was known for her acute mind and wisdom. And beautiful curves of the body that all her daughters inherited.

Then, the girl settled in the carriage, and she with the convoy, consisted of several men, set off to the remote lands.

The journey took long days when they finally reached the dense woods. It seemed that places there were deathlike, shrouded in impenetrable thick fogs.

The carriage stopped and soon its door was opened.

"We've arrived, my lady. We won't go further, we are to leave you here," the servant of her father stretched a hand to her and helped her to get out.

Her nose immediately caught the moist raw scent of dead leaves and moss. The space around was dead silent. The sky was grey and cloudy — no signs of the sun, moon, and stars. Here and there hollers of ravens were heard. Vultures were circling above the trees, probably looking out for a half dead prey.

Shivers ran across her spine, the breath caught in the lungs.

The case with her belongings was stated at her legs. The girl turned to look at the servants of her father. They only gave her a sad smile and nodded, turning the convoy back.

She was left alone in these cursed lands. Abandoned by the whole world.

The girl looked around trying to figure out what to do next, and having no idea where to go, who to search for, she took her case, and just went further into the mist.

She couldn't tell whether she'd been walking for hours, but soon enough she noticed the outlines of the high fence which was visible in the distance. When the girl reached the gates, she stopped and placed the case on the ground. Beyond the large fence, the grim castle stationed itself. She felt that something tugged in her stomach, and stuck in the throat. Fear. Pure terror washed over her body. The sudden feeling of millions of eyes watching her prickled the petite body. But there was no one around her. At least, she thought like that.

All at once, the heavy front doors opened and she saw a tall man going down the stairs, directly on the lane bestrewn with gravel. He must have been the one who was going to meet her.

[cnestus]

i recently solved a fun little bug mystery at work and i thought it might be interesting to write up a step-by-step narrative of how i did so, as a sort of example of the kinds of things i get to do for my job. this is a stupidly long post because i have no editorial self-control so i'm putting the rest under a cut.

the above insect is a bark beetle, one of a series of 6 specimens i found in a drawer at work. they did not have species labels on them, and the collection labels indicated that they were collected in 1997 from "Chinese Cedrus used for artifical christmas trees." the infested wood had been intercepted and the beetles collected and pinned, but whoever was working in the lab at the time wasn't able to suss out the species, which is extremely reasonable because even IDing american bark beetles to species can be a massive pain in the ass, let alone ones from asia.

the beetles were clearly in the genus Phloeosinus based on the shape of the antennae and the large spines on the elytral declivity (the ass area), and whoever pinned them at least got them that far themselves, but determining the actual species was going to be a lot harder. even american beetles in this genus can be devilishly hard to confidently ID to species since they often look alike and also are quite morphologically variable in ways the bleed into each other. they are pretty cool though and those ass spines are usually critical in species-level identification

btw since i'm going to be writing out this word a lot in this post, it's pronounced roughly as "flea-o-sign-us" if you're curious.

determining bark beetle species is often made much easier by knowing what tree the beetle came out of since most bark beetles (but not ambrosia beetles, which are also scolytid/scolytine beetles but a whole other can of worms grubs) are highly host-specific, usually being adapted to only a certain tree species or genus or small group of related genera.

so Cedrus is the genus for eurasian cedar trees, and there is one species of Cedrus native to china, Cedrus deodara, but that seems like an odd choice of plant to harvest and send to america for artificial christmas tree trunks. most actual Cedrus species are from the mediterranean area. however there are also some chinese trees in the cypress family Cupressaceae (+Taxodiaceae) that are called cedars, and in fact most species of Phloeosinus are exclusively found in trees in this family. one likely species is Cunninghamia lanceolata, traditionally called "chinese fir" despite not being a fir but also more recently marketed as "chinese cedar" because that's how common names for species go.

oh and there is also the tree Toona sinensis in the family Meliaceae that's ALSO sometimes called "chinese cedar" for some reason but more importantly also called "beef and onion plant" lmao, but that was an even worse candidate for an artificial christmas tree trunk and also not a known host for the beetles. easily discounted but i had a laugh.

so my first angle of attack was to assume that the collection labels were correct and the beetles were in fact from a Cedrus tree. i was able to find a list of about a half dozen Phloeosinus species known to attack Cedrus cedars, but none of them were native to china. this would most likely mean that one of the mediterranean species had been transplanted to china for cultivation, which is entirely plausible. after digging though a bunch of literature i wasn't able to find a good key for Phloeosinus species in the entire area i wanted, but found a couple regional keys covering geographic ranges that when combined covered about what i wanted. for non-biologists, this is what a species key looks like:

sort of a choose your own adventure kind of thing but for determining a creature's true identity. anyway none of the results i got from these keys led to species who's descriptions matched the one that i had. i should also mention that my specimens had a rather distinctive feature unlike any other Phloeosinus species i'd ever seen before, which was an elytral vestiture consisting of these really funky little black explanate scales:

most Phloeosinus species have some kind of vestiture on their elytra but all the ones i'm familiar with have the hairs and scales light-colored and never shaped anything like this, so i figured that the description of the correct species would surely mention these scales.

so anyway dissatisfied with this avenue, i decided that the next most likely option is that whoever made the labels for the specimens was told that they had come from "chinese cedar" by the importer and had just assumed that meant Cedrus but it was actually one of the cypress family cedars. again most of the described species do in fact use Cupressaceae as hosts.

so next i found this UN report with a (hopefully) comprehensive list of all non-EU bark and ambrosia beetle species that attacked conifer trees. i culled from that a list of Phloeosinus species listed as coming from "asia." since that was too broad of an area, i then looked up all of these species in the species catalogues listed in the report, mostly Alonso-Zarazag et al (2007), though some were also listed in Wood and Bright (1992) or Bright and Skidmore (2002), which i happen to have physical copes of. from these i could narrow the list down to just species found in china.

now things became difficult because there are no keys to chinese Phloeosinus, or at least none in english. also even just written descriptions of many of these species were impossible to find because they were all written like 60-100 years ago and usually in chinese or german or french and had never been translated or uploaded anywhere online. likewise almost none of them had research-grade (or any) photos anywhere online.

so after hours of fruitless digging, the best i could come up with was a guide to scolytine beetles of korea (PDF link), which contained a key with a handful of the species on my list and did include english descriptions of these. now one of the species in the guide, P. perlatus, IS DESCRIBED as having dark scales, and my specimens did seem to land on that species when i ran them through the key. that's promising! and the hosts were on my list of possible non-Cedrus chinese cedars! also promising! buuuut something just didn't sit right with me. parts of the species description in that paper just didn't seem to quite match my specimens, like for example the size was a little off, described as being 2.4-3.4mm long, while all of mine were in the 3.3-3.6 range. plus the photos of the species, while distressingly low-resolution, just didn't look like mine.

okay so that was dissatisfying. i'd managed to whittle down my list of suspects a good deal from what little scraps of information i could find about them through my sleuthing, either the wrong hosts or the ones that did have english descriptions available online like in that korean guide didn't fit, but i was still left with several possible candidates and no way to narrow it down further, of course this all assuming that the beetles i had on my hands even were a species that had been scientifically described and named. bark beetles are a huge group of critters and many are quite understudied, especially in asia, and a bunch of new species are described every year!

i was about ready to just give up, but then by coincidence i had a reason to email a couple of high-level bark beetle researchers about a different beetle mystery i was also working on, which was in a group that they were the authorities on. on a whim, i mentioned my Phloeosinus conundrum to them to see if they had any ideas and they recommended i contact Dr. Roger Beaver. yeah, i know right? fucking kickass name i'm so jealous. sidenote: it's so funny how many bark beetle researchers have extremely appropriate names, like two of the biggest names in the field are Steve Wood and Dave Wood. no relation.

so anyway i contacted Dr Beaver, who had done some research on east asian Phloeosinus in the past and he was kind enough to send me an unpublished provisional key to chinese species that he had written up a few years ago. using that key, i ended up at "P. pertuberculatus (?=sinensis)" which means that there was some suspicion that P. pertuberculatus and P. sinensis were the same species, just described and named independently by two different entomologists (Hans Eggers and Karl Eduard Schedl respectively), as often happened, especially in the glory days of insane 18th-20th century european entomologists describing literally thousands of new species during their careers.

now these two species WERE both on my final list of suspects of chinese Phloeosinus species that hadn't otherwise been eliminated for one reason or another, and both had Cunninghamia "cedar" trees as known hosts. Dr Beaver was then kind enough to scan and send me the original descriptions of these two species:

which i was able to use google translate on:

not the nicest translation but still an admirable attempt on google's part to deal with all the entomological jargon, and most importantly the description of the elytral scales on P. sinensis definitely seems to match my specimens more than the pertuberculatus. plus i found a paper on taiwanese bark beetles (PDF) coauthored by Dr Beaver that had a (also distressingly low-resolution) photo of pertuberculatus that didn't seem to match my specimens:

aaand finally: i'd been trying for days to access the webpage of a chinese museum that popped up as the only notable result on a google image search for P. sinensis but every time the website would time out and the cached version of the image was too small to make out any details on, but it finally occurred to me this evening that the reason was probably because my work computer or work wifi was just automatically blocking chinese websites because of america's insane paranoia about chinese spying, and sure enough i opened it up on my home computer and it fucking worked!

that's a pretty fucking bang-on match for my specimens! the scales look right, the color is right, the size is right, the ass bumps are right, the host is right, the geography is right, and the translated description otherwise seems to match! here's mine again so you don't have to scroll all the way up:

so i'm calling this 26-year mystery solved! not all of the bug puzzles i've worked on have had as meandering of a path to their conclusion as this, but i thought that this one did display a good number of the different methods i use. the biggest thing that was missing was me wandering into my lab's massive library of old dusty entomology journals stretching back over a century and digging out some old article that never got scanned and put online, as often happens, but in this case since the bugs were asian and out library mostly covers north american entomology that wasn't going to be very fruitful.

hopefully this was interesting to... somebody besides myself. if you've read this far and weren't bored to tears then congratulations you probably have the same kind of brain damage as me!

[notbecauseofvictories]

I was telling my mother about my trip to Switzerland, and how lovely, clean and yet oddly dead the cities seemed. "Maybe I just wasn't in the right parts?" I mused. "I did spend all my time in the city centers, you'd hardly expect to get a feel for Chicago walking down Michigan Avenue---"

"That's what you said about Notre Dame too," my mother added thoughtfully, as someone who has known me since birth. "It was too clean. You said it was American college Disneyworld."

And in the days since I haven't been able to stop thinking about that. That whatever else is in me, I automatically mistrust too-lovely things. I assume they're lying to me somehow, they're protecting me from something in a high-handed, jolly good but better not let the rabble see, sort of way. It itches, too much manufactured loveliness. I was even thinking about that driving through the suburbs (long story, don't ask) because some of those subdivisions and gleaming office parks are attractive, but all I could think about is the number of people called in to mow the grass and weed the flower beds and powerwash the sign every spring.

This doesn't make me think, well, that's what human effort is for! why did god make 6am if you're not going to be watering your plants and taking out the trash! (That's what I do at 6am; if the rest of humanity agreed with me, I would notice.) Instead, it makes me think about lies. It makes me think about Disneyworld. It makes me think about the carefully cultivated artifice of a place where it is someone's literal job to ensure that ugliness never occurs in your eyeline, so you don't have to contemplate it.

[bobosbillionsknives]

i agree with a lot of your points about knives, i do also think he is aroace of some kind (demi imo), but the way he ignores bodily autonomy wasn't a theme that was new to stampede. the way he consumes other plants and forced vash to use his angel arm are examples of it, though less explicitly 'sexual'. either way, his actions weren't born out of sexual attraction, he simply thinks that all plants are an extension of himself and he can use their bodies as he pleases since its for a 'greater purpose'. he is not a predator but he isn't innocent either

Oh no no no no no no no I do NOT wanna give the impression that I am genuinely defending knives is ANY way. 😭

I completely agree with everything you're saying. He is inarguably abusive. Saying he's not would be a wild ass claim to make. 🙏 My only argument here is that it isn't specifically sexual, but I'll get more into that in a bit. 😝 I have SO MUCH to say abt this...so I'm gunna use this as an excuse to word vomit on y'all. Thank you for bringing this to me I am itching.CRAVING to talk about my favorite girls always. 🤗💖

INSANE ESSAY POSTING LETS GOO !!!

I think your point on Knives seeing the plants as an extension of himself is SPOT ON!!! He does the same thing with Vash too. He's doing it because hes so stuck up his own ass he seriously thinks there is no possible way he could ever be wrong, everyone else is just too blind or stupid to see it his way. That's why he does the whole "eternal suffering for Vash the Stampede" bit. He genuinely cannot comprehend that Vash just fundamentally disagrees with him. He thinks if Vash goes out and sees every horrible thing a human can be he'll finally give up the hippy dippy act and face this false reality Knives made up as a coping mechanism so he never has to actually face any of his problems. Cause stabbing all your problems away is waaaaay easier than actual growth or change. Top ten girls who are trapped by the horrors of their past 😂!

Knives has a blatant misunderstanding of people's worth outside of himself. He disregards the lives of others constantly, he literally murdered 20 mil+ and was genuinely confused when Vash was mad at him for it. He doesn't take anything seriously. He especially doesn’t take physical pain seriously, unless it’s happening to himself. [DID YOU ACTUALLY SHOOT ME!!?] He's said that he knows none of the crazies he sends after Vash can ever kill him. He thinks if they can't kill him, then none of the hurt Vash experiences during these fights really count. Its always a game to him. He knows Vash will be fine because he has faith in his ability to fight. (He's complimented his fighting skills several times lol.) Yet he’s consistently shocked and disgusted when he sees Vashes scars, like he didn’t play a role in that ??? He just never thought of it until it was literally staring him in the face.

HE THINKS EVERYTHINGS A DAMN GAME !!!!!

Knives never really wants to force Vash to agree with him either, he's literally waited decades for him to come around to his point. He's definitely lashed out violently before, and has disregarded his safety. But I don't think he actually even likes seeing Vash in pain 😭 (maybe a little in a Itoldyouso brother kinda way lol.) He's completely horrified when he sees his scars. This panel speaks absolute VOLUMES to me. He is angry that Vash would allow people to hurt him this much. (Bro is for sure a victim blamer 🥱 Vash OBVIOUSLY should've known humans are evil and would do this to him. 🙄 HIS FAULT !) Those scars solidify in his mind that his brother is reckless, and clearly doesn't know what's best for himself. That's why he feels the right to "save" him from humans. Knives out of anyone in the world knows how much Vash disregards his own life. He's angry that his own brother would choose the perceived violence of humanity instead of the safety he has worked SO hard to cultivate for over a hundred years. After everything they learned from their childhoods, Vash would have to be deaf and dumb to keep crawling back to them. (From his perspective anyway.)

Everything Knives does he thinks is to better Vashes life. That's what makes him such a tragic character to me. He genuinely believes he's in the right and doing everything he has to so him and his brother can feel that safety that was never guaranteed to them in childhood. He loves Vash, (PLATONICALLY !!!! 😰) He wants Vash to be happy. He just doesn't understand why, that despite everything, living alongside the humans is what makes him happy. Something he only accepts at the end of trimax when he literally trees himself to assumed death so Vash could have that. Knives is unambiguously in the wrong, but I do think his thought processes are sympathetic. WRONG. But like .I get it girl. Besides, he acts more like a toxic mother than anything. How DARE you be so ungrateful after everything I've ever done for you that you've never even asked for. ✋😒 and EXPLICITLY told me not to do. Ugh. 🙄 you don't even love me…guess im just a terrible brother than huh…🥀 BITCH SHUT UP !!!!

Now about the asexuality, not only...do I think Knives is aroace. I think he's completely sex REPULSED!!!!! Sex is a mark of human degeneracy, animals clinging for power over each other. Hed think hes above it !! It would disgust him, I don't think he's ever had a sexual thought in his life. He’s also a Jesus freak he'd think procreation in general is a sin 🙄‼️ik his interpretation of the bibles gotta be INSANE. Exploring sensuality is like a normal and healthy thing to do no fucking WAY Knives is self aware enough to do all that. If he could experience any kind of libido, his hatred of humans would never allow him to explore it anyway. Since sex is such a huge part of human culture. He probably thinks consensual sex is a myth humans made up to assault each other easier…😭

this is literally him bro I can't see him any other way...🚬 He's literally a pearl clutching mom who refuses to understand anyone else's experiences because he doesn't understand them.

I can't imagine him being able to feel romantic love either...I actually think it would be pretty out of character ngl. Plus I think it could be an interesting element of why he feels so disconnected from humanity in general. It would be part of why he feels the need to define himself as alien. Knives would rather die than admit this, (and he did) but all he's ever wanted was understanding. The same way Vash does. Knives doesn't understand sexuality/romance, or deep empathy, or most social confinements at all. That's clear by his inappropriate emotional reactions and lack of a filter. He can't feel emotions the same way Vash or Rem can. It makes it very difficult for him to relate to and connect with others. Especially Rem. He feels too wrong, too broken, too alien. But he's convinced himself that this is actually a superiority. So he can sleep at night. But he's far more human than he'll ever be willing to accept. The familial love he feels for Vash is the only thing that makes him feel normal. And it's why he clings to it so desperately. I think that feeling being explicitly familial makes the most sense for the story.

(cut for explicit talk of SA/CSA)

Im never one to dismiss bad actions from a fictional character. If I thought Knives was a sexual abuser, id say it. I even considered it before I watched/read Trigun and kept it in mind the whole time because of how prevalent of a take it is. If anything, I feel like theres more evidence for metaphorical depictions of Knives BEING sexually abused than being the sexual abuser. I mean his literal whole thing is how plants bodies are used and abused against their will. Solely for the humans gain. While it's slowly and painfully killing them. And how afraid he is that they'll do it to him too....😭 He would be absolutely HORRIFIED by SA. I just don't think it's an abuse he'd perpetuate. It goes against literally everything he stands for. I get he’s a hypocrite and all but I could just never see Knives of all people doing anything sexually ever. ESPECIALLY for his own pleasure.

Both Vash and Knives read to me as CSA victims. This would need to be a separate post all together because there is entirely just too much to say. But I feel very strongly about this interpretation and it's why I'm so firm on this. Sexual abuse is a huge theme in trigun OBVIOUSLY!! And Vash and Knives can easily represent different ways people cope with trauma like that. Knives gets angry, and bitter, and lashes out. While Vash shuts himself off, and tries to run away from it all. Two extremes from two brothers. Two sides of the same coin and all that. They've been victimized, I think it's the main reason why Knives would be so angry and distrustful of humans. Now I know Steve was kind of a throw away character from the anime- but I believe long term interpersonal abuse from a human early in life would explain a lot of the deep rooted hatred Knives has for humanity. Along with his hatred for Rem if she failed to protect them, and his deep sense of entitlement to protect Vash if Vash couldn't protect himself. (Tesla was the last straw for Knives bc at least for a while he thought he could trust Conrad till all that happened and he realized the only person he could ever trust was Vash, and that fear never really left him even 100+ years after.) (My interpretation of Conrads role is also a different post gerrrrr TOO MUCH TO SAY.)

Knives' ideology has always been inconsistent, I can easily see him disregarding autonomy in some ways but refusing to in others and never making a mental connection between the two. Plus Knives would think Vashes scars are shameful and disgusting. He probably cant even make himself look at him let alone touch him be so fr. Knives' definitely has an unhealthily attachment to Vash but not in a sexy sex or ROMANCE way 🤦‍♂️ ITS JUST HIS BPD YA’LL 😝‼️#favoriteperson #extremefearofabandonment #vashkeepsleavinghim (also another separate insane essay post) there is no argument here that Knives isn’t extremely bad at emotional regulation. Familial/platonic dynamics like that happen literally all the time it’s just not evidence of anything to me. I can't even see Knives directly punching someone let alone be capable of sexual violence against his own BROTHER ? I'd argue he's far more verbally/emotionally abusive than he ever is physically anyway. He doesn't even kill directly, it's always either done without a second thought by his powers, indirectly by starving the population out, or by making other people do it for him. He doesn't seem to actually enjoy seeing people in pain, more the satisfaction of a job well done. I don't see why this wouldn't apply to Vash too? He doesn't even usually initiate their physical fights. Vash does. (He has every right to, for the record. Knives just doesn't comprehend why Vash would be mad so he always tries to talk like everything is normal. Lol.) And when they are fighting he always puts his hand on his face ?? More annoying than a direct indication of violence. He could just punch him or something but he doesn't? Like violence in Trigun isn't a thing known to happen. Idk I think that's interesting and worth exploring a bit yk ???

Obviously he chopped his arm off I'm not saying he's innocent there either, just that he's more likely to be emotionally manipulative than explicitly interpersonally violent LOOLL. He didn't chop off his brothers arm because he enjoyed it, to him that pain is neutral. It was just a super casual reminder. But SEXUAL violence is completely different, sure it'll leave scars but you can heal from physical pain all day and night I mean commooon it barely even COUNTS as real pain. (Because he rarely has to experience it.) (A certain someone's got a major empathy problem.) And if it kills you it doesn't matter cuz you're already dead 😝!! But SA is different. It's his worst fear and greatest agony. It's something he knows sticks with you your whole life, he doesn't think that's a wound capable of being healed. (So he never tries and chooses to live in constant fear and anger instead.) That's how I see it anyway...🤕 Again it's not like he's a reasonable guy he is known to be a bit unstable idk if u knew...

Actually if anything, I think Vash would be the more interpersonally violent of the two. (Vashes abuse is always reactionary tho he would never act like that if Knives would just be normal lol he is not the aggressor here.) I can't see Knives punching Vash but I could VERY easily see Vash punching Knives ykwim ??? (For trimax anyway, ik kid Knives beats the shit out of him in 98 which I DO think is funny. But I don't accept into my personal canon okay LISTEN we are talking about a lot of conflicting characterizations here. JUST HEAR ME OUT. ✋) Knives never even really blames Vash for BLOWING HIS LEGS OFF in July too, which I always thought was so interesting. It makes me think this is actually a common thing for them to the point that they don't even argue about it outside of "are you actually aiming at me again 🙄?" Which is more bitchy than angry. Like ugh I can't believe you. Typical, typical Vash. 🥱 He'd probably use it as a way of proving to him that they are the same. And despite denying it, Vash would actually agree and feel a deep sense of shame abt it. He's had 150 years of pent up anger after all. He almost killed him with a rock once lol. I'm tired of everyone woobifying Vash as some kind of perpetual uwu victim. Vash is fucking mean sometimes. He is just as capable of violence as Knives is. The same way Knives is just as capable of great kindness. It is known that Vash is in fact physically STRONGER than Knives. (With his plant powers and id assume in general because Vash actually goes outside while Knives reads in his garden all day.) I truly believe that the only reason Knives ever wins the sibling fights is because of Vashes constant hesitance. He's not a battered wife stereotype. All Vash wants is control over his own life, the last thing he'd want to see himself as is a helpless victim. It's why he always pretends nothing is ever wrong with him. It's why he doesn't accept help, and values other people's problems far above his own. His kindness was always an active choice and that's why he's such a powerful character. And Knives would bring out the absolute worst in him LOOL all that work he's done to better himself is instantly thrown out the window the second Knives' very punchable face walks in the room.

He was fighting absolute demons not to run over and beat tf out of Knives in this panel

This is why I feel so disgusted by stampede and the way they handled their relationship. They've dumbed down these characters to the point that they are unrecognizable. Literally every aspect of stampedes portrayal of them feels like a first conclusion based on a synopsis of their goals and personalities. I get there's only one season but that's a LOT to fuck up in one season bro. 😭. There is absolutely no salvaging Nai as a character for me. I'd cover my drink around that guy I find him genuinely repulsive. At least with trimax, you can read around an initial sussy reading if you wanted. How anyone defends Nai, I don't even know. That whole plant insemination thing is pretty on the nose y'all. Literally doesn't even make sense for him to do that like? Why would he want more independent plants??? It's like they tried to make Knives' motivations make sense when the whole point should be that they don't. He's fighting ghosts out of fear. Stampede wasn't even good enough to justify its own existence by how it looks. Adding peculiar plant pregnancy preggo fetish incest bait is just the turd on the turd cake. They ruined the most compelling part of the story for me. Pfft.... But whatever...🚬 not like I care ....🚬

Not to mention Legato y'all don't even get me started. The guy that HATES humans more than anything in the world taking in a HUMAN -SEX TRAFFICKING VICTIM. The one time he's ever taken pity on a human being and it was someone who was the victim of a violent sex crime. Yeah guys that dude. Total raper. Defo a brother diddler. What the fuck are we talking about right now y'all. I genuinely feel like sexual violence would be the last thing knives would ever do ever. I understand that there are sus scenes in the manga that could be interpreted this way, but considering the many themes in Trigun and his place in the story as a whole, I think it is such a misrepresentation. And it frustrates me to see it as one of the only things talked about in regards of his character. If I could, I'd rewrite every scene in the world so people could understand what I see, but I can't. And I know I can't control how other people see the media I like. Trigun is extremely interpretive, and I understand why this is a common conclusion. But I guess I just can't shake the feeling that it's more complicated than that. I have criticisms with trimax and ESPECIALLY 98. And there's obvi a lot id change to fit what I'd find most interesting. (Also why every headcanon revolves around Knives somehow teehee) BUUUUUT I do think all of my analysis is pretty based in canon. I can't stress how insane I am about this and how much I've thought about it 🤕🤕🤕🤕🤕. Believe me, I've considered every obstacle. And I've stayed consistent.

Knives is a raper feels like the easy answer to me. To be completely blunt, it's just not as compelling. Vash and Knives would both have very complicated relationships with their bodies and sensualities and gender and their relation to their plantself and their humanself and blah blah blah whatever. I'd much rather explore that as a separate result of the same abuse than default to supercestsimulator69. Knives is already an abuser. Making him a sexual aggressor too doesn't really add anything to the story besides diminish and dumb down his very complex motivations. Vash and Knives should be very good friends who know each other better than anyone. (They are trauma bonded like CRAAAZZY, very codependent like y'all get it.) I think that would make their conflict SO much more interesting. While providing some great context to why Vash is so willing to give every horrible person he meets a second chance at life. If I saw my brother, who I love, and is my best friend in the whole wide world, slowly deteriorate under the pressure of the abuse we we're BOTH experiencing; go fucking crazy and kill everyone. And I KNEWW. He genuinely believed he was doing what he had to do to protect the both of us...I'd probably also give everyone the benefit of the doubt idk. Vash understanding Knives' motivations but still holding on to that (justified) resentment and anger is ESSENTIAAAL to their dynamic and also literally all of Trigun. Sexual abuse throws a rock in all of this. If anything I think Knives would tell Vash "I'm the only one who WOULDN'T assault you. They're human, they'll only see you for how useful you are. It's what they do. It's what you know they do. You're choosing them over me the same way Rem chose Steve over us." Knives' abuse is complicated and multifaceted, not just some gross display of power. He's not even the most power hungry character in the world. He's got a whole cult dedicated to him that he canonically IGNORES.

And he sure as shit doesn't respect people who are desperate for power over others!! He'd think he's above that too. Just more evidence of human deviance. (Like the scene in 98 where kid Vash and Knives are watching the humans fight over water. Animals who think one is more deserving of resources than the other.) He's narcissistic in the literal diagnosable sense but definitely not some kinda megalomaniac. I think that's a huge mischaracterization. He doesn't want to rule the world, he wants to destroy it. And he wants Vash to be his equal in this, he respects Vash. (as far as someone like Knives can respect anybody at all) He doesn't understand why Vash would choose to be so "dumb" because he's never allowed himself to feel the vulnerability of potential harm that Vash wants him to understand is worth it. It's why he locks himself away from the world, he's afraid of being victimized again. Knives' morals are all over the place, he genuinely doesn't think murder is bad but would consider sexual violence to be the worst thing anyone could ever do EVER. It's not like we're talking about the beacon of reason and consistency here y'all, Knives is cray cray sauce.

Anyway that's my thoughts, sorry this took forever to answer. 😿 And ended up being SOOO long.. I've on and off mauled over this writing and rewriting again trying to make any of my garbled thoughts make any sense. Hope it resonates with anybody at least bc I genuinely feel like I've been taking crazy pills lately LOOL. Take care of yourselves everyone. 💖 Never an easy subject to talk about.

[ritunn]

Vile Beauty - A Look at the Elves of Lorwyn/Shadowmoor and Queerness

"Beauty determines values, and we determine beauty."

That's the flavor text that accompanies the card, Masked Admirers, a rare, now uncommon, elf that made its debut in Lorwyn. Flavor text that summarizes the views of the Lorwyn elves who we'll be revisiting next year.

Beauty Determines Value

I started playing MtG back in 2009 and I took a liking to the elf and kithkin tribes almost immediately. I was young enough that I didn't quite understand the social commentary being made by the writing behind the elves at the time, but it's something that's entranced me since then. In Lorwyn, the virtue often associated with elves, their unnatural beauty, has been twisted. The vain elves live in a hierarchical society where the most beautiful live on top and a single scar or blemish can ruin your life. While nature is nothing more but a tool to continue their harm of others or to be shaped to be as beautiful as them.

It's a strange society, but one that fits all too well with elves and the tropes we've come to associate with them. Though the twist of eyeblights, the name elves give to those too ugly to be anything else in elf society, but also what they call everyone else, adds an fun twist to the basic idea of "What if the beauty industry was a society?"

Eyeblights at best are treated as eye sores, creatures to be avoided if needed and an annoyance at worse. At worst, they are hunted for sport, blades slicing them in twain while the insidious moonglove poison kills them in seconds if that fails. This is often reserved for giants and boggards, the name for goblins, but they aren't above using these selfsame measure on other elves.

But for those elves who would reach so low as to become eyeblights, often due to disfigurement, purposeful or accidental, they are allowed to become nettelvine breeders. Nettlevine is a parasitic plant cultivated by the plane's elves that shortens the already short lifespan of elves, but also grants them great control over it, allowing them to make mockery of the plane's treefolk and devastate the enemies of the elves. But, what lays in the store for those elves who reach the pinnacle of beauty?

We Determine Beauty

Elvish society in Lorwyn is separated into four distinct classes, the faultless, immaculate, exquisite, and perfect.

Faultless: the lowest caste, the faultless meet a minimum threshold for beauty. They're without fault as the name suggests, but their beauty isn't anything better than what is expected for an elf and work the basic jobs required of society.

Immaculate: those who act as dignitaries for the elves. If you're cunning enough in addition to beautiful, you can reach the level of immaculate and attain some special privileges within elvish society.

Exquisite: second only to the perfect, elves who reach exquisite are masterful hunters and lead other elves in hunting excursions with packs of wolves to kill eyeblights. As dangerous as they are beautiful and the only caste below perfect with permission to speak to them.

Perfect: the most cunning of all elves and of transcendental beauty, perfects rule elf society in Lorwyn and have permission to kill anyone they'd like in a caste below them. Vicious and vain rulers of which only a few exist.

Eyeblights are not in the caste system. As mentioned before, these elves are either made into nettlevine breeders or killed. Even associating with creatures that aren't elves or using them to kill eyeblights such as one of the Lorwyn/Shadowmoor protagonists, Rhys, did can earn you the ire of other elves. Speaking of Rhys...

Rhys, the Exiled

Rhys was a student of Colfenor, an elder treefolk and the last yew treefolk. He taught him the secrets of yew poison magic and they'd maintain a psionic bond for life even when Rhys became an eyeblight hunter. His past of being associated with an eyeblight like Colfenor always earned him some contempt, especially from his superior, Nath. Nath was a more traditional elf, one who was quite annoyed when Rhys made use of a pair of giants to deal with goblin raiders after the hunting party's trap went wrong due to an inexperienced archer, an archer Nath cut down for his mistake. As such, Rhys and Nath had a tense relationship, one that broke when Rhys became one of the very eyeblights he hunted and his friend turned against him.

Nath had ordered Rhys to exterminate some peaceful goblins getting together for a story time festival. Despite Colfenor's pleas not to go through with it, he did and the attack went horribly wrong. The goblins turned feral and murderous due to the Great Aurora starting to begin, an event that inverts the traits of every race on the plane and brings eternal night. With little choice, Rhys unleashed the magic Colfenor taught him and killed everyone except for himself, his friend, and Nath. When he awoke, he found his horns destroyed. He had become an eyeblight and his friend and Nath had promised to slay him, but not before he was rescued by an elf named Maralen and a group of fey.

The rest of the story follows his adventures with Maralen of the Mournsong and the other adventurers on Colfenor's quest to continue to yew treefolk line and stop the Great Aurora, but this fall is what we care about. Rhys knew what was wrong but still went through with it anyway. Corrupted by the pressure of a society and willing to kill to maintain his position, only to lose it all. Though, when night comes the only true monsters on Lorwyn become its saviors.

Beauty is a Seed

The elves of Shadowmoor, the name the plane adopts when the Great Aurora brings eternal night, are an interesting contrast in the dark fairy tale feel the plane adopts during this phase. These elves are also obsessed with beauty, but the world itself has become as ugly as they were inside while phased to Lorwyn. Thus, there's the twist. They seek to preserve beauty, those little slivers left. Beauty is a seed, waiting to blossom under capable hands as the flavor text of Bloom Tender puts it. As everyone else becomes the monsters they believed them to be, they stopped hunting them. They hunted for beauty instead. No longer vain, they care for each other and see the seeds of light in the darkness. They see true beauty, of nature, of love, of life, and just want to protect it. There's something so kind about it, so heartwarming, a glimmer of hope in darkness, all ripped away when the morning tide washes away the darkness and things return to normal. We get a glimpse at what the elves could be, and in a way, it hurts.

Something I have yet to mention is the deer-like apperance of the elves. In Lorwyn, this soft apperance hides the truth: they are predators, hunters, to be feared, not prey. But on Shadowmoor, they are the prey, able to fight back, but prey nevertheless to hideous monsters like scarecrows, kelpie, deurgar, and the twistwed residents of Shadowmoor. They've become the ones they once hunted, the other, but for once, they're free of hierarchy and free to live life and dream for a better tomorrow and they revel in that. Rhys is able to find redemption in Shadowmoor, and embrace his true ideals. Night doesn't last forever though, and neither can this. But, I'm intrigued to see how it ends up being handled come 2025.

Toil to Renown

So, what do I love about the elves of Lorwyn/Shadowmoor? Well, they are quite pretty, I love the design, but these days, I think love that they're the very people that'd despise me. Being queer means to live outside the binary standards of beauty quite often. Some transphobes even go as far as to label others trans based off of very minute masculine or feminine traits that no one but them cares about. This leads to reinforcing gender stereotypes and leading to violence and/or vitriol against anyone who doesn't fit in. We become eyeblights, as does anyone who's cis and not quite the perfect model of their gender. All the while, people like Rhys, who don't totally agree, are browbeat into conforming and suffer for it when they too find out they will never live up to the standards of such wretched people. Whether they come out queer or simply have an accident.

But, I also love these elves, the ones on Shadowmoor, because I see myself in them too. I want to find the beauty in a cruel world that despises me and others I call friends and family and protect it with all my heart. Beauty isn't flawless skin and a sharp intellect, it's in a lonely flower blossoming, the laugh of someone you love, celebration of life. We fight every day to live and assure our continued existence in a world that despises us. Is that not reason to celebrate? Life may be grim, but there's beauty everywhere and we decide it ourselves. I hope WotC explores that duality again in 2025, because it's a beautiful message I've taken to heart for years. Thanks for reading.

[lets-try-some-writing]

Since technically Earth is an extension/child/sibling of Unicron in older comics (Gaia, I believe her/their name was), how about Unicron being a girl dad?

Unicron would rather die than outwardly admit he cared for his daughter. But of course, Earth grew on him and he couldn't remain quiet forever. He could see how much she wanted his attention and approval, and after so many millennia dutifully sidestepping her affection, Unicron found himself unable to keep denying her entirely. There was the matter of honor and avoiding Moon's mockery to keep in mind. And so with all those factors considered, Unicron began showing Earth his affection in quiet ways.

He gave Earth the only thing he could think of that would fly under Moon's radar and still make his point.

He gave her a garden.

Beneath the ground, hidden in caverns where only she could see, Unicron used his limited influence to force some of his blood into the soil. For centuries he worked quietly, growing crystal spires not unlike the ones Primus was so fond of. He cultivated creatures made for the dark, eternal and long lived. He formulated plants and stalactites that crisscrossed without any seeming rhyme or reason. Everything he did he pulled from his memory. He could not create, but he could influence. Earth was the one doing the work, even if she didn't know it. But when it was done, he was proud.

The area was saturated with Dark Energon, but it was his gift to Earth. He did not declare it as such aloud and instead pointed Earth to it quietly. She hurried to look at what he was urging her to observe, and her reaction confirmed to Unicron that he could never willingly kill her.

Earth: Father, this is spectacular. Did you do this?

Unicron: Don't mention it to the dust ball above us.

Earth: I won't. I promise you, this gift shall remain between us.

Unicron: it is of no conciquence.

Earth: I thought... I thought you held little love for me. I know differently now. I should have considered that you were not a mech of many words.

Unicron: *internally blushing* Keep your assumptions to a minimum. I've done nothing for you. To any outsiders, you are the parasite upon my frame.

Earth: Of course Father. I shall cherish this gift until my dying day.

[sotwk]

hi! in the spirit of showing oc love, I was wondering if there's a particular oc you're looking forward to introducing to people in upcoming projects?

I'm tripping over myself to answer this Ask! (Thank you thank you thank you, Ace!)

May I please introduce two?

I've been shy about sharing these because they're not only Silmarillion OCs (I'm still intimidated by the Silm fandom, even though I have many lovely Mutuals from there, you included), they're OC WIVES of Silm Canons. Two of the most popular Silm canons. I'm pretty sure OC creators have been flogged for that.

But since you asked... onward with SotWK AU reveals and spoilers! The stories are tragic because that's the First Age for you!

Velcálë Vanandur

Wife of Maglor and grandmother of Elvenqueen Maereth (wife of Thranduil)

SotWK Fancast: Zendaya Coleman as Velcálë

Her name means "flame doer" in Quenya.

Velcálë had one child with Maglor, a daughter named Laurinwen, who was born and grew up in Tirion.

She was a Noldorin apprentice who served directly under Vána, and was thus given the prestigious epithet "Vanandur" (Servant of Vána).

She was a great tender of gardens, and her songs could cause plants to immediately flower or bear fruit.

Only out of love and devotion to Maglor did she decide to follow the Fëanorians in Exile, taking their daughter with them.

Velcálë was greatly affected by the violence of her kin and constantly homesick for Valinor. A lover of light and warmth, she suffered in the harsh lands where her family dwelt.

The toll of her heartbreak muted the strength and power she possessed in Valimar to nearly nothing, although she did her best to help sustain their people by cultivating the lands for limited-scale food production.

Because she tried to hold Maglor back from "necessary" violence and constantly made him question his commitment to the Oath, she was disliked by all of her brothers-in-law, except for Maedhros.

Velcálë was eventually slain in the battle of Dagor Bragollach when Himlad fell, leading to a permanent estrangement between Maglor and his daughter, Laurinwen.

Elemírë

Wife of Glorfindel and twin sister of Elenwë (wife of Turgon) 

SotWK Fancast: Vanessa Kirby as Elemírë

Elemírë had a fierce warrior’s spirit, but violence of any kind was considered unbecoming by her family.

She joined the Exile because she did not want to be separated from her sister Elenwë, a gentle spirit whom she always sought to protect.

She was loved by her childhood friend, Glorfindel. Although she reciprocated his feelings, he was the more passionate and demonstrative one. Elemírë factored in Glorfindel's own decision to (reluctantly) join the Exile.

Elemírë nearly died trying to dive under the Grinding Ice to save her sister, but she was held back by Glorfindel. This embittered her heart towards him. Instead of following Turgon to Vinyamar (and eventually Gondolin), she decided to join Fingon’s people. 

Over the course of the decades, she grew into a skilled cavalry rider, and was accepted into the ranks of Fingon. She became devoted to Fingon for personally mentoring and training her. 

During the Long Peace, Glorfindel (who had missed and yearned for Elemírë all those years), sought permission from Turgon to leave Gondolin so he could seek her out.

He came to Hithlum reaffirming his love for her and seeking her hand in marriage. Elemírë would not say yes, but could not bring herself to refuse him either. Glorfindel committed to staying for as long as needed to convince her, and this courtship lasted for nearly half a century.

Eventually, Fingon himself encouraged Elemírë to realize and follow her true desires for peace and love. She betrothed herself to Glorfindel and returned to Gondolin with him.

The couple married and bore one child, a son named Ingwil.

As the Lady of the House of the Golden Flower, Elemírë was also one of its fiercest warriors. She fought alongside her husband for the first time in the Nirnaeth Arnoediad.

Elemírë died during the Fall of Gondolin, rescuing her son from an attacking fire drake, which she successfully slayed before perishing.

Thank you again for the ask @hobbitwrangler, and for encouraging my foray into the Silm fandom. I hope you (and anyone reading this) enjoy learning about these OC ladies! Maybe with the right amount of courage, time, and motivation, I may someday even write some actual one-shots including them!

For more SotWK AU headcanons: SotWK HC Masterlist

Elves HC Tag List: @a-world-of-whimsy-5 @achromaticerebus @acornsandoaktrees @aduialel @asianbutnotjapanese @auttumnsayshi @blueberryrock @conversacomsmaug @elan-ho-detto-elan-15 @entishramblings @glassgulls @heilith @heranintomyknife23times @ladyweaslette @laneynoir @lathalea @quickslvxrr @spacecluster @stormchaser819 @talkdifferently6 @tamryniel @tamurilofrivendell

Special Moots who might be interested tag: @emmanuellececchi @from-the-coffee-shop-in-edoras @scyllas-revenge @g-m-kaye @quillofspirit

Other useful links:

Introduction to SotWK

Fanfiction Masterlist

Fanfiction Request Guidelines

[penny00dreadful]

Cat and Mouse - Spy AU - Part 1

AO3

18th April 2015

Steve pulled the trigger, barely even paying attention as the bullet tore through the head of his target. He was just so ready to go home, god this week had been boring.

His target was some bank executive that had started to funnel funds towards various criminal enterprises, helping those criminal families gain more power and Steve had been contracted to weed that rot out, right at the root.

The Hagans, Kline and Johnson families would probably still find ways to rise up in the ranks but it had been kneecapped now, making things more difficult for them.

They’d never climb to the heights of the Creel Syndicate anyway. 

Steve was pretty sure no one could.

Henry Creel, legendary crime lord that he was, had somehow managed to cultivate a culture of fear and respect amongst even the lowest of street drug dealers.

Not to mention the borderline mythical assassin he was rumoured to have at his side. No one knew who they were, no one even knew if they existed. Some claimed the assassin was just some boogeyman story cooked up by Creel to keep his workers in line and Steve wouldn’t put it past him. The guy was creative.

And some things that had been attributed to this assassin were downright impossible so… They were probably made up.

This mythical boogeyman had some kind of title as well but Steve had never really paid much attention to the rumours and the ghosts floating around the underworld he was a part of.

Lies were practically currency to them so he’d have to see it to believe it.

Whoever ended up working on the Creel case was going to have their fucking work cut out for them.

Holstering his weapon, Steve snapped on a pair of blue latex gloves and he knelt beside his dead mark, slowly leaking blood and brains from the hole at the back of his head.

Steve fished around inside the guy’s pockets, locating his wallet. There was a family photo in there, library card, organ donor card, an obscene amount of credit cards and a loyalty card for the strip club across town.

Since when did strip clubs do loyalty cards?

Whatever. Steve located his driver's licence and pulled it out. 

“Hm.” Steve tilted his head, reading the name from the laminated card. “Sorry, Peter. It’s not personal. It’s just business.”

He tucked the licence back into the guy's wallet, returning it to his pocket.

It only took three minutes for Steve to stage the scene, breaking into the guy's gun safe, planting the weapon just next to his hand, like it had flown out of his grip when he pulled the trigger.

He slipped out into the hallway of the high rise apartment building, removing his gloves and stuffing them into his pocket, pushing his hair back from his face and coming to a stop in front of the elevator.

The doors opened and an elderly lady with a yappy dog gave him the suspicious eye, no doubt not recognising him from this floor but as Steve took a step back with his most charming smile and a gentlemanly gesture, motioning her out of the elevator she smiled back and he knew he was in the clear.

He got back down to the lobby and through the front door, onto the streets with no issue, allowing himself to get lost in the crowd. 

He reached up to his ear, flicking a small switch on the back of his ‘hearing aid’, allowing Robin to hear him, rather than just monitor his location and vitals.

“Okay, I’m out. You can stop looping the cameras.”

“Roger that, dingus.” Robin was probably saluting him right now from behind her desk, sounding like she was speaking in his head. 

It had taken a long time for him to get used to it, hearing Robin, but still being able to hear everything around him at the same time.

Steve rolled his eyes.

“Be nicer to me.”

“You say that to me every time, and every time I say no. Job went easy enough?”

“Yeah, practically childsplay.”

Steve kept his eyes open, never quite able to switch the part of his brain off that was waiting for the next hit from around a corner, a knife in the gut or a bullet in the shoulder.

He’d already managed to walk a few blocks, trying to put as much space between himself and his completed job as he could without moving too fast.

The crowd around him was both safety giving and dangerous.

Easy to disappear into but easy for someone to sneak up on him unseen.

Speaking of…

There was a figure shadowing him, had been shadowing him for a few minutes.

It could be nothing.

It could be some guy walking the same route as him.

But it wasn’t.

Every time Steve caught sight of him in his periphery or through the reflection of a store window, the guy had his eyes on him. 

Locked on him, like he couldn’t afford to lose him, but Steve wasn’t worried.

The guy was weedy, probably weighed 140 pounds soaking wet. 

The large leather jacket and the denim vest made him look bulkier than he was and he'd nearly tripped over his own shoelaces twice trying to keep up.

Steve could tell when people were dangerous. It was in the way they held themselves. The way they walked. The way they looked at those around them. How they held their hands at rest.

This guy was none of those things. 

He might dress mean and scary but he was as delicate as a flower petal on the inside, Steve could tell.

So he wasn't exactly worried he was about to be shoved into a black van or choked out. 

At least not this time around.

He was probably just going to be pickpocketed.

He recognised the look on the guy's face. 

Desperate. 

A panicky kind of desperate.

Like if the guy didn’t get some money into his hand immediately, the hounds of hell were gonna be on his ass. Probably break his kneecaps for good measure.

He could just be looking for money for a fix, Steve tried to reason with himself. He certainly had the eye bags, the pale waxy skin, the skinny frame that told that kind of story.

But even from as far away as he was, Steve knew that wasn’t the case. 

Though he couldn’t see him clearly, he could tell his eyes were bright.

Alive and clear and piercing and active.

Not the hazy, cloudy, bloodshot gaze of someone coming down from their high or going through withdrawal.

Steve guessed he was some kind of dealer. 

Street level, considering how he tried to look scary but wasn’t really.

Any higher up than street level and he would have held a certain amount of danger around himself. He would have had to, to survive after all.

So what had made him so desperate and what about Steve had caught his gaze?

Steve glanced down at himself, to his pristine polo, light wash vintage levi’s and spotless sneakers.

Ah. 

Well that would be it. 

Steve looked like he came from money. Especially walking through this part of the city.

And like… the guy’s guess wasn’t wrong.

Steve did come from money. But he hadn’t seen hide nor hair of his parents or their money since he was eighteen years old, nine years ago.

Any money Steve had now was his own. Being a spy paid really well, as it turned out.

But the desperation radiating off this guy, even as far back in the crowd as he was, was making him sloppy. A regular civilian would know they were being followed at this stage, never mind Steve Harrington who’d been trained to within an inch of his life for this. 

He could enter a room he’d never been in before and immediately know the most effective route for escape. He could look at a lineup of randomly selected people and know straight away who was the most dangerous in hand to hand combat and who would be most likely to have a weapon on them.

Steve could snap this guy in half over his knee probably without breaking a sweat.

Even still he felt a little bad.

He needed to talk it out. Needed someone to confirm for him he wasn’t going crazy.

"Someone's on my tail, Birdie." Steve muttered, flipping the switch on his hearing aid communicator again.

"Okay,” He could almost picture her nodding. “Gimme a description, I'll see if I can find them."

"No, it’s not an enemy or anything. I don't even think it's something I need to be worried about, honestly. Just some bottom of the totem pole dealer. Nicotine stains on his fingers, cigarette burns on his clothes. And Jesus Christ has he ever even heard of conditioner? And his eyes are huge.”

“Do you think he’s on something?”

“No.” He kept his eyes forward and continued to smoothly weave his way through the crowd. “But he is pale. Gaunt. His denim jacket looks pretty ratty. It’s been repaired multiple times. By hand. And he definitely hasn't eaten in a while. I think he’s probably gonna try to steal my wallet to stop his boss from breaking his legs."

“You don’t think that maybe he’s just hungry?”

Steve shook his head. “No. He looks pretty desperate but not that kind.” He frowned again, almost muttering. “Scared desperate.”

Robin sighed. "Steven."

"What?"

"Don't do it, babe."

"Why shouldn't I help the guy out?” Steve was already pulling his wallet out while ruffling his hair. 

Misdirection. 

“I can part with $20. Stick it in my jacket pocket, loose. Make it just obvious enough and easy to take. What's the big issue?"

"You're a bleeding heart, that's the issue."

"Yeah, well. He clearly needs it more than I do."

"Is he cute?" She asked in a teasing tone, making it clear she thought he wasn’t just a bleeding heart, he was a horny bleeding heart who could be swayed by a pretty face. 

Which…

Didn’t need to be pointed out.

"...No."

"Wow, decorated Special Operative Steven J. Harrington everyone.” He could almost hear her waving her hands around. “Infiltrator, martial combatant and, apparently, a master liar. On his way to recruit another wayward stray."

"Oh, fuck off. Why not spit out my whole government name, that definitely won't put me in danger."

"You're wearing a bone conduction audio transmitting ‘hearing aid’, I'm literally in your head-”

“You’re not in my head, you’re in my cochlea.”

“Which is in your head, dingus. No one can hear me and it's a secure line. You, however, can be overheard so don't sell me down the river."

"Well then, you better be nicer to me."

“Never.”

Something bumped against his elbow and he was suddenly, painfully aware of a body behind him, right up in his space.

He didn’t even think before he lashed out behind him, snatching the figure's wrist in a vice-like grip, spinning the two of them into a nearby alleyway and pinning the stranger against the wall.

“Woah, man.” 

Oh. 

It was just the guy who’d been following him.

He was staring at Steve with wide, deep, brown eyes, shaking his head. 

He looked fucking terrified. 

“I- I don’t want any trouble, I swear.”

Steve took a breath before dropping the guy’s wrist like it had burned him, taking a step back.

The guy's eyes were flicking nervously over Steve’s face, waiting for him to strike probably, before his gaze settled just to the left of Steve’s head.

He was looking at his hearing aid, but Steve pretended not to know that, lifting his hand to his ear in confusion and allowing him to subtly flip the switch off so Robin couldn’t hear anything anymore.

“Try not to fall on his dick.” She muttered at him when she heard the click.

But he could hear her, like always.

Steve rolled his eyes, making sure it was aimed at the guy, acting like his exasperation was because he just noticed the hearing aid.

“Don’t tell me you’re suddenly gonna feel bad because of this?” Steve gestured at it.

The guy shook his head, still plastered up against the wall as though he wanted to melt into it, trying to put even more distance between them.

“Relax, man. I’m not gonna attack you, or whatever.” He crossed his arms over his chest, setting up another barrier between them to try and put the guy at ease.

He didn’t think it was working very well.

The guy in front of him looked like a stiff breeze would blow him over. The same height as Steve but built much smaller, slender and delicate looking despite the heavy boots and chains and tattoos Steve could see peeking out under the neck of his shirt and spreading over his hands and fingers.

His hair was a curly nightmare, clearly needing an introduction to some conditioner and probably brushed with a regular hairbrush like a heathen, but aside from that the guy was…

Well, he was gorgeous. 

His mouth was full and plump and parted ever so slightly in fear. His eyes were as huge as Steve thought they were at first glance, deep and brown and warm. His face was slim and soft looking, with laugh lines cutting down on either side of his mouth and a hint of scraggly stubble that was putting Steve in emotional danger.

Steve could probably throw him over his shoulder with ease.

Maybe that wasn’t the most helpful thing to be thinking right now.

“Right, right, yeah.” The guy nodded again. “You’re not gonna attack me. You just dragged me into an alleyway for a friendly chat.”

“And you just stuck your hand in my pocket for completely innocent reasons.”

The guy blinked at him, those big eyes somehow getting bigger before growing mischievous, despite the clear nervousness still radiating off of him.

“You planted it there.”

Steve opened and closed his mouth, his eyebrows high on his head.

“You saw that?”

“Was I not supposed to?” He squeaked, like Steve was gonna kill him just for pointing it out. “It was kind of obvious.”

Interesting. Maybe he’d underestimated him.

“It shouldn’t have been.”

“Really?” The guy gave him a playful grimace. “Then I don’t know what to tell you. I saw it from a mile off.”

Steve’s mouth tugged into a reluctant smile and he ducked his head a little to hide it, leaning back against the opposite wall.

“What’s your name?”

“Wh-” The guy paused, shaking his head, bewildered. “What’s happening right now?”

“I’m asking you your name.”

“Yeah, I got that part sweetheart, but why the hell are you doing that?” 

Sweetheart was sneered out but it still got the colour rising up Steve’s neck.

“I don’t know, to help you chill out a little bit or something. Fuck. I’m sorry I dragged you back here, I think I was just going off of… fight or flight or something.”

“Great, great. You be fight, I’ll be flight.”

Steve couldn’t help the light chuckle that came out at that and was taken momentarily off guard by the small smile it brought to the guy's face. 

Pretty. He’s so fucking pretty.

Steve reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out the $20 he’d originally stashed, holding it out between his index and middle finger.

The guy eyed it before flicking his gaze back up to Steve. 

“I don’t know what you’re expecting in exchange for that but I’m not that cheap. Even for a face as nice as yours.”

“What?” Steve scrunching his eyebrows in confusion before realisation dawned on him. “Dude. I’m not asking you to blow me for twenty fucking dollars. Christ.”

The guy hummed, but snatched the bill up anyway. Steve could just make out the word inked across his knuckles, mors. The calluses on the tips of his fingers brushed Steve’s skin, telling a story of years playing a string instrument. 

Based on the position and angle, it could have been guitar or bass, but it could have also been cello or violin. 

The look would suggest guitar or bass but classical instrumentalists were always dark horses, never looking like how they’d be expected to look. 

Steve would need to see his other hand to confirm if there was any healed damage on his thumb, indicating years of holding a bow and to see what he had inked over the fingers there.

Not that he was interested.

He was staring at the guy's hand for too long, the tendons standing proud under his skin and Steve only snapped back to himself when the guy tucked the bill away into his back pocket.

“I would say I have more dignity than that but a blowjob is definitely not the worst thing I’ve ever done in an alleyway. But yeah. Not for twenty dollars.”

Steve could feel the blush rise up higher on his neck and if the expression on the guy's face was anything to go by, it was visible now over the collar of his polo.

“You alright there, sweetheart? You seem a little flustered.”

“Steve.” He supplied, clearing his throat and trying to push the redness back down. “My name is Steve.”

The guy hummed again with a grin. “Think I prefer ‘sweetheart’.”

“And you?”

“I’m partial to ‘baby’ myself.”

Steve uncrossed his arms with a shake of his head, unable to hide his smile while putting his hands on his hips. 

“What’s your name,” he asked, before deciding to add on “baby?” At the end, with a tilt to his head, making his hair fall into his eyes and giving the guy, what Robin called, his puppy dog look.

The guy bit down on his bottom lip, the corner of his mouth ticking up and his eyes seeming to turn darker the longer he paused. “Eddie.”

“Eddie suits you.”

“I should hope so.” Eddie shrugged. “It’s the only name I got.”

“Baby suits you too.”

His eyes travelled up and down Steve’s body, leaving fire in their wake.

“Gotta say sweetheart, this is not how I thought this was gonna go when you grabbed me. Thought you were gonna smash my face in.”

Steve frowned. “I wouldn’t do that.” He dragged his eyes over Eddie again. “Wouldn’t be fair. Guess I was just surprised to feel your hand in my pocket.”

Even though he’d been expecting it, Eddie had managed to sneak up on him, which was not something he was used to.

Eddie’s smile dimmed a little and he sighed, pushing himself off the wall and beginning to wander aimlessly.

“Yeah.” He shrugged, lightly punching at the wall, expending energy. “Sometimes there aren’t a lot of options I guess.”

“Listen. I don’t know what kind of shit you’re wrapped up in but there’s always the option to get out of the game.”

Eddie swept his boot back and forth through the grime and dirt on the ground of the alley, leaving a tiny clearing in his wake. “If only that were true.”

“It can be.”

Eddie shrugged again now backing up towards the mouth of the alley. “Sometimes life doesn’t work out that way.”

Just before he got to the edge where he could disappear around the corner and into the crowd, he paused.

He regarded Steve with a tilted head before stepping forward again and taking Steve’s hand in his, raising it to his lips. 

“See you around, sweetheart.” Eddie muttered into his knuckles before pressing his lips down, gentle and soft.

Steve let the blush take over his face this time, playing up the coy angle just a bit too hard but fixed Eddie with a cocky smirk regardless.

“I certainly hope so, baby.”

He was delighted to see a matching blush across Eddie’s face who exited the alley with a wink and then he was gone.

Steve reached up to his ear and switched his hearing aid back on.

“Oh good,” Robin’s voice came through a little bored, “you’re not dead.”

“No, I am actually dead, my ghost has just possessed the instruments monitoring my vitals to make it look like I’m still alive.”

“That’s alright then.” She sighed. “Less paperwork involved for me if they think you’re still alive.”

Steve hummed in agreement, finally leaving the alley with a quick glance up and down the street but Eddie was well and truly gone.

“So what happened with the guy?”

“We talked a little, I gave him some money and told him to get out of whatever game he’s in.”

He was close to his apartment building, he was surprised to find. 

He’d been an auto pilot, paying more attention to Eddie following him than he had been where he was going.

“That’s it? I would have expected better from Slut Harrington.”

“You’d prefer if I told you the guy fed me his dick?” Steve asked, stopping in front of the entrance to his building and using the subtle biometric security to get in. “Or worse, you’d prefer to listen in? Wow-”

Robin’s screech nearly blew the side of his head open. 

He was glad he had made it into the elevator by then because the shockwaves sent him reeling backwards into the metal walls like he’d been punched.

He heard the ding and the whir of metal as he started moving up towards the top floor.

“Jesus tap dancing Christ, Birdie!”

“You deserved it! I remember Steve! I still remember the last and only time I nearly heard you get your dick into-”

“Then don’t get pissy when I tune you out!”

Robin huffed. “I will never get those sounds out of my head.”

“People would pay good money for those sounds.”

“I’m sure they would but I am not one of them.”

Steve didn’t respond, just let out a heavy sigh as he exited the elevator and crossed the short hallway to get to his door. 

He put his key in his lock and his hand on the handle at the same time, waiting just a second for the scan to complete before he heard the multiple locks and bars in the thick door click open allowing him inside. 

If there was one perk to working a life threatening job that regularly got him injured for a non-governmental international agency resulting in almost no personal life, it was that the pay was really good.

Steve had grown up around money, he was used to it. But that money had been stuffy and came with so many strings attached. This money was his money and he got to do what he wanted with it.

And what he wanted didn’t involve soulless art pieces and ugly as fuck chandeliers just because they were in some magazine that his mother read.

Steve’s space was mismatched. He decorated with pieces he liked the look of, regardless of whether it all ‘went together’. He was the only one living here so he wasn’t going to decorate according to anyone else’s standards. He’d been doing enough of that throughout his life already.

His furniture was vintage or artisan in nature, found in tiny little antique shops hidden away in corners or crafted by small business owners who loved what they did.

The front door led directly into an open plan living/dining/kitchen space. The floor to ceiling windows facing the park had been heavily altered. Thick enough to not let any sound or bullets through and made to obscure the view enough that a person would need to be pressed right up against the glass to see in, even though Steve could see out clear as day.

Steve’s apartment was the go-to venue for any kind of game night, the Super Bowl, playoffs, the World Series, they were all hosted here. His TV and sound system were unparalleled. 

He’d made sure of it. 

The couches were solidly framed but Steve wouldn’t have gotten them if they weren’t also the most comfortable ones he could find. One of them had to be reupholstered and none of them matched but he didn’t care.

Lucas always got pride of place in the middle with Steve while the other sports-heads, Robin and surprisingly El, took up the remaining space at either side of them.

Everyone else was happy to sit along the sidelines, mainly there for the food anyway.

Even all the pots and pans in his kitchen were a hodgepodge of whatever he found. Vintage copper and well aged cast iron lined the walls. 

The only things he’d conceded to buying new were the electrics. 

And then there was all the spy shit.

But that was a given. It was mostly functional stuff, hidden safes and compartments to keep documents and hard drives secure. Multiple concealed pockets and nooks containing a variety of small handheld weapons. The odd button here and there to enable or disable the silent alarm.

And the safe room, hidden behind the bath that only Steve knew how to get into or that it was even there. Robin didn’t know. The higher ups at work didn’t know. Hopper didn’t know. 

Maybe that was just a little too much paranoia, even for him, but paranoia had never steered him wrong before.

“Okay Birdie.” Steve flopped down face first onto his couch. “I am officially clocking out. Will I see you this weekend?”

“If this date goes well, hopefully not.”

“Go get her, tiger. I believe in you.”

“I believe in me too.”

“That’s the spirit.”

They said their goodbyes, Steve hoping against hope that Robin and this new girl worked out. 

She deserved something good in her life. 

He tried to distract himself by making dinner, showering and bingeing that TV show she insisted he had to watch (Ineffable Husbands or whatever it was called) but his mind kept wandering back to big brown eyes and soft plush lips.

Steve rapped the remote against his forehead a few times, trying to drive the thoughts away but they wouldn’t go anywhere.

Robin had jokingly suggested that Steve was going to recruit Eddie into the fold and it wouldn’t be the first time, if it ever did happen. 

Honestly, if it helped pull the guy out of whatever situation he’d gotten himself into, why shouldn’t he?

There were probably a thousand reasons to not drag Eddie into Steve’s dangerous world but just the thought of those eyes and that smile being directed at him again would have Steve doing almost anything.

Part 1 AO3

@geekymagicalpotato

Big thanks as always to @hbyrde36 for the magnificent beta work and to the STWG for their motivation.

This fic is about 70% complete and is currently clocking in at just under 40k so far. I love this story so much, it has taken over my life in the best way.

[firstdeerwife]

Pairing:Adam x Eve

Warnings:Mentions of murder and blood.

C.10

𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓚𝓮𝓮𝓹𝓮𝓻 𝓞𝓯 𝓢𝓱𝓮𝓮𝓹

(𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓑𝓵𝓪𝓬𝓴 𝓢𝓱𝓮𝓮𝓹)

In the vast expanse of land outside of Eden, where the sky blended with shades of orange and pink at dawn, Cain and Abel found their place in the world their parents, Adam and Eve, had left behind.

The soil was fertile, and although the work was arduous, both brothers thrived in their respective tasks.

Cain, the elder, worked the land with an almost fierce passion. The land, harsh and unforgiving, resisted his efforts, but he never gave up.

Each seed planted was a battle against the hardness of the soil, and each green shoot was a victory earned with sweat and blood. He felt a deep pride seeing the fields he cultivated transform into bountiful crops.

Abel, on the other hand, was the guardian of the sheep. His connection with the animals was almost mystical; the sheep followed him with devotion, and he guided them with patience and love.

Each day, Abel led his flock to graze in the nearby green valleys. There, under the shade of a mighty oak, he would sit and play a soft melody on his reed flute. The sheep grazed peacefully, knowing they were under their caretaker’s protection.

But in Cain’s heart burned a flame of discontent. He saw how Abel was blessed with the favor of their parents, how his offerings were gladly accepted, while his own, the fruit of his hard work on the land, were rejected.

The rejection turned into resentment, and the resentment into anger.

[†]

One afternoon, the two brothers brought their offerings to “HEAVEN.” Cain presented the fruits of his labor: a basket of cereals and vegetables.

Abel, for his part, offered the best of his lambs, the fattest and healthiest of his flock.

The smoke from Abel’s offering rose in a clean, straight column, accepted by those beings of light, while the smoke from Cain’s offering scattered in the air.

Rejected.

Envy grew in Cain’s heart like a poisonous seed.

Why was his work undervalued?

Why did those beings favor Abel, the shepherd, over him, the farmer who worked so hard?

His dark thoughts gnawed at his soul, and every smile from his younger brother was like salt in an open wound.

That feeling only grew in his heart and blinded him, preventing him from seeing beyond his envy towards his younger brother.

Abel had always had the favor of heaven and their father.

Even if his mother always tried to make him feel better about himself.

Since childhood, he had shown himself to be better than Abel, he had given his best to make his father proud and happy.

And what did he receive in return?

"You can do better."

"Is that all?"

"It’s not enough."

"I expected more from you."

It didn’t matter what he did or how hard he tried.

"You will never be good enough for them."

Was he the problem?

What was he doing wrong?

Maybe, just maybe, Cain was the problem; always trying to seek his father's approval and love.

When HE hated himself.

Human beings will never accept that sometimes we ourselves are the real problem.

We should learn not to give importance to the opinion of others and seek our own approval.

People will never be satisfied and will look for any slight defect.

It’s always easier to blame someone else for everything wrong with ourselves.

We will never accept when we make a mistake.

Cain knew exactly whom to blame.

And he wouldn’t stand idly by.

[...]

Abel remembered with nostalgia those days when he and Cain were practically inseparable.

However, as the years passed, Cain built a barrier between them, causing them to drift apart.

Although he tried several times to restore the bond they used to have, it seemed that Cain was not interested in being with his younger brother.

It was for that reason that Abel was greatly surprised when Cain offered to take a short walk through the valley like in the old days.

Abel was so excited to spend quality time with his older brother that he didn’t know the terrible fate that awaited him.

[...]

"I have a feeling that something bad is going to happen."

"Don’t worry, everything will be fine."

[...]

The silence between them was heavy, laden with unspoken tensions. When they reached the place, Cain turned to his brother, and the anger and envy he had contained for so long exploded in brutal violence.

He struck Abel with a stone, and his brother's life extinguished in a sigh. The silence that followed was even denser.

Everything happened too quickly; Cain looked at Abel’s lifeless body, and a sense of horror and realization overwhelmed him.

Cain stood paralyzed for what seemed like hours, though it had only been a few seconds.

The heartrending cries of Eve and the slap from Adam brought Cain back to reality.

He realized he was still holding the stone with which he had taken his younger brother’s life.

He dropped the stone covered with Abel’s blood and looked at the red liquid on his hands.

He had committed an irreparable act, a sin against his own blood.

He had crossed a line that couldn’t be undone; the anger and envy he had harbored for so long had finally exploded in brutal violence.

He had blinded himself with his own emotions and attacked his own blood.

He watched his poor mother cry and cling to the lifeless body of her young son.

His father seemed to be saying something, but the only sound that reached his ears was the beautiful voice of that violet-eyed woman.

And so, dear reader, the feeling of envy grows in our hearts over time and clings to us.

Just as the author and you, beautiful person reading this, cling to your ex.

[malwaredykes]

To: LUCKY 38 PRESIDENTIAL SUITE TERMINAL

From: Leigh Stasik

Subject: BIG DAMN BUGS

Hi there everybody!

So, it's day 5, and Joshua Graham continues to get on my nerves. I've received a lot of clear signals that the feeling is, of course, mutual. I don't think he's very happy about what I've been doing—or, more accurately, what I haven't been doing. Because he really, really wants to put me to work, in the sense that I'm to run errands for him, and I don't wanna do that. He doesn't agree to help me find a way back home, though, until I help him resolve his business. This, indeed, is a very unsatisfactory situation, as I am essentially being held hostage by the man, and I'm not pleased about him trying to act all kind and compassionate about it. I think he thinks he's doing me a great favor by “humoring” my “condition” (hahaha!) insofar as he hasn't gotten outwardly mean or violent about it. He's a hateful little man, quite homogeneously so with the Legion past of his that he claims he has long since abandoned and healed from. I in turn feel rather hateful whenever I have to listen to him go on and on about the love burning within and without him… Love for what? Vapid goof. Disgusting. I'd mess with him more, but I don't want to upset people here. But oh, how I want to mess with him. At least I know that if he tries to harm me, he won't last very long. I sure do love to hurt those who think themselves indestructible. Am I right? Who's with me?

I went out into the valley with Waking Cloud today, to disarm some traps set up by the White Legs on one of the bridges. She's so sweet! Not going to lie, I'm still a little surprised I managed to make friends here; it's not like I was going out of my way, as I had my own tasks to tend to, and didn't want to bother anyone.

But, anyway. Around noon the sun got reeeeaally harsh, so we decided to sit in the shade for a little while, right by the river, dipping our legs in the water. There's something about the smell of fresh flowing water, right above its surface, when the sun and the heat pull vapor out of it. We talked about a bunch of things. I think I've mentioned this already, but she's a midwife; we discuss medicine a lot, which is fun. She's taught me a lot about local herbs, their properties, and how to get the best results when preparing them. I told her about my hopes for cultivating some of Zion's plants and fungi back in the Mojave. In the end, she asked if perhaps I could stay in Zion. Gosh… What a touching suggestion. But I have family at home! I've got a dog and an eyebot to put through college! But I will return one day, I'm sure. I hope so. Maybe any of y'all wish to come along?

Soooo… We pressed onwards and then I saw them. A small pack of cazadores, nothing unusual for me, though their wings had a yellow tint to it, much paler than the bright orange I'm used to. Cloud was shocked by my nonchalant reaction, how I just pulled out my rifle and got ready to dispatch the creatures if needed, and I didn't understand until one got a little closer. That thing was huge! At least twice the size of the cazadores you'd see in the Mojave! And its chitin was a lot thicker, so it didn't go down with one or two shots. That was crazy. We did manage to hunt down a few, and the two that remained fled. Upon closer inspection, everything about these cazadores was bigger and more messed up. The stinger, the poison glands… Geeze. I wonder if the increased size comes from better air quality. Higher oxygen levels in the atmosphere did cause bugs to evolve larger in prehistoric times. I kinda want to try and make turbo out of these, but I don't think that's wise. I don't have the proper equipment with me to test the precise contents of this venom, and I can't exactly do a taste test. Oh well.

Ronnie-honey, aside from the surprise gift I can't wait to show you, I have a few mechanical tchotchkes for you to take a look at when I get back. You might be able to make sense of them, because I sure can't. I pulled one of them out of this airplane wreck I stumbled across. Well, you'll see.

Raul, Cloud gave me this recipe for agave candy that she makes for her kids. It takes time to prepare, but it's genius. I am so making it for you. And that's final. No ifs or buts. I mean, I'm gonna make it for everyone, but especially you.

Anyway. I need to get a good night's sleep this time. So, write to you later! Love you all! Take care!

Leigh

[ejzah]

A/N: Since it’s Fair time for me, I figured I might as well take Densi along for the ride.

***

Let’s Go to the Fair

No, no, not that one!” Kensi shouted, waving her hands frantically as Deeks held a pair of scissors, pointed to cut a deep red rose twined around a trellis.

“What’s wrong with this one?” he asked, pointing at the perfect bloom with the point of one blade.

“It’s too small.”

“Kensi, I think it looks fine,” Rosa assured her.

“Fine isn’t good enough,” Kensi insisted fiercely.

Under the combined attention of Kensi and Rosa, their garden had flourished this year. It seemed Kensi had finally overcome her black thumb for the most part, and Rosa was particularly adept at gardening. Deeks often joked that Rosa possessed secret powers since the plants she tended were particularly lush, especially for the climate.

Together, the two of them had cultivated a variety of vegetables and flowers. Deeks happily pruned, watered, fed, and picked as needed.

Currently, they were all outside, the twins playing in the grass while the three adults picked flowers.

“This is my first time entering flowers. I want to do it right.” Kensi’s intensity made Deeks grin.

“It’s just a county fair,” Rosa reminded her with a gentle smile. “It’s supposed to be fun.”

“I am having fun,” Kensi said, sounding surprised at the implication that stressing over finding just the right flower arrangements wasn’t enjoyable for her.

“She really is,” Deeks agreed. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but Kens thrives on competition.”

“Sometimes I forget.”

Cutting a larger but equally beautiful rose, Deeks handed it over to Rosa to place with others in a bucket.

“Alright, what’s next?”

Ah—dadata,” Caleb said, somehow having found his way to the edge of the blanket and stretching far enough to reach the edge of the flower bucket.

“Woah, where you think you’re going, sir?” Deeks asked, pulling him back a few feet just before disaster struck.

Sophia complained on his behalf in a long string of babble, shaking both fists to show her anger.

“Well, I’m sorry, but mommy and Rosalie worked very hard on those flowers. So you cannot have them. I know it breaks your tiny hearts.”

Caleb just grinned up at him in a way that suggested it would be the last attempt to cause mischief.

“Here, how about a nice octopus to chew on?” Deeks offered, holding out a vibrating teething toy. Sophia batted it out his hand with a another squawk. “Ok, but I’m not picking it up for you.”

He set Caleb back in the middle of the blanket with a few toys, chuckling as he immediately began babbling back and forth with Sophia, likely planning their next shenanigans.

“Thank you, baby,” Kensi said, kissing Deeks’ cheek.

“Anything for my favorite gardeners.”

A couple hours later, they’d moved inside and several vases sat lined up on the kitchen table. Deeks had been on baby duty and in charge of attaching exhibit tickets.

“What do you think?” Kensi asked, stepping back with an uncertain expression.

“They look amazing,” Rosa said. “We did a good job.”

Deeks eyed them critically, taking a moments to examine them from every angle. “I’d give them all the ribbons. Beautiful work, ladies.”

Kensi rolled her eyes, but wrapped her arms around his middle anyway. “Thank you.”

“And if I don’t win anything, we’ll come back stronger next year,” she declared.

***

A/N: Much like Kensi, I have a bad track record when it comes to keeping plants alive in the long term. My mom and sister are the gardeners.

[dailycharacteroption]

Roleplaying Races 16: Vine Leshy

(art by kaerru on DeviantArt)

Today we’ve got another late addition to First Edition, but unlike others, this one got quite the expansive lore to go with it, and even was carried further into one of the early inclusions of Second Edition! I give you, the vine leshy!

In the real world, “Leshy” is a Slavic deity or spirit associated with the wild places of the world and being a temperamental guardian of nature. This figure is often conflated with the Green Man or woodwose, and is at least sometimes a humanoid plant creature.

It’s no surprise then that the closest thing to this guardian deity in Pathfinder are Green Men: quasi-divine plant entities associated with druidism and nature, and are sometimes called Leshy Kings since they are in fact powerful nature spirits given planty bodies to interact with the world.

Which brings us to actual leshies. In Pathfinder, the leshies are much like the Green Men in that they are nature spirits bound into specially grown plant bodies, often made by other sapient plant creatures such arboreals or of course the Green Men themselves, or even by druids who have been taught the art. Regardless of who creates them, however, they all gain abilities based on the nature of the plant matter used to embody them.

Most leshies, while fully sapient, are not quite strong or willful enough to be truly independent and go off on their own, many acting as servants or even familiars. However, vine leshies in particular grow into fully-realized beings that often strike off on their own, finding a natural place to serve as guardian of (and watching over their lesser kin), or else travelling to learn more of the world.

…or at least that was the paradigm when this ancestry was first introduced. In 2E, it was revealed that any type of leshy might have full sapience, having more to do with the strength of the nature spirit than the nature of the vessel. As a matter of fact, I did a conversion of these different types of playable leshy on this very blog if you do some searching. But for now, we’ll be focusing on the base ancestry, though you can assume that this applies to all playable leshies with their monster entries supplementing their behavior.

In any case, most leshy-kind are fiercely devoted to nature, while also delighting and finding fascination on the perspective that a mortal body offers. However, they view death differently than mortals, since their spirits literally directly return to the world upon death, leaving no questions or quandaries past that threshold.

Leshies are… in a word: Adorable. Like seriously, if you’ve never google image searched “pathfinder leshy”, do so. You will not be disappointed. They all essentially resemble small, cute humanoids made out of plant matter, though 2E art also includes many of them having animal features, all of which falls in line with the fact that, since their bodies are magically cultivated and then animated by a nature spirit, there is no set taxonomy or even true genetic connection between leshies unless two were grown from cuttings from the same plant or species. Everything from cutie pies with carved pumpkin heads to surly talking cacti and so on.

Now, if you’re specifically playing a vine leshy (either because you’re not using my homebrew or simply chose to play a vine leshy), they all have some vine elements to them, such as having limbs made from intertwined woody or green vines, leaves based on various vining plants, and so on. Additionally, while many make use of the goods made by societies, those with a more crafty mindset often craft their own clothing and tools from natural materials. (There are multiple pieces of art with leshies wearing “helmets” that are in fact citrus peels.)

Given that they are creations of other beings, most leshies do not have a society of their own, typically living with their creators until striking out on their own, oftentimes living as hermits, though others retain friendly relationships with travelling companions or with like-minded dwellers in the wild that also have a vested interest in protecting nature. Indeed, in regions where there are many leshies, the fully independent leshies may share an almost parental or mentor role for their lesser kin, possibly under a powerful druid, arboreal, or Green Man. In any case, their relationships with other ancestries varies based on the experiences of the nature spirit that forms the core of their being.

Vine leshies tend to be hardy and full of life, with the wisdom of being an immortal nature spirit bound to a mortal body. However, a combination of their naivety of youth or their alien perspective makes intellectual pursuits a lower priority for them.

They are also small in size, and their short limbs limits their speed somewhat, though their supernatural and light-reliant nature gives them superb senses in the dark.

They also constantly are warded against being tracked, leaving no discernable trail for others to follow.

All leshies can disguise themselves by transforming into a mundane specimen of the plant they were grown from, helping them to blend in, at least in areas where a wild plant (a vine in a vine leshy’s case) wouldn’t stand out.

They can also speak with their origin plant variety as well, communicating with them with ease.

Even when not disguised, it can be hard to discern the planty bodies of leshies from surrounding foliage, and vine leshies in particular are excellent climbers, their limbs latching on to handholds just as easily as the anchor roots of natural vines do.

Finally, when a leshy is slain, their nature spirt soul is released into the world in an explosion of positive energy, causing nearby plants to be healed and even spring up in a verdant growth around them in a wide area, making travel difficult and the fact that they’ve been slain nearly impossible to conceal. While the thickness of the foliage reduces with time, the plants are otherwise natural, and may thrive or wither based on the conditions of the area.

Of course, not every vine leshy (or other leshy) is built the same, especially when the exact species they were grown from can vary. Some of these might be applicable for my homebrew, while others might not. In any case, there’s plenty of options. For example, vine leshies grown from grapevines and other fruiting vines can produce fruit infused with healing and sustaining magic of a goodberry spell. Other prove more dexterous than tough. Others can reconstitute a limb into a whip-like weapon as well as wield whips with great skill. More wizened ones can perform a ritual to speak with all plants, rather than just their own kind. Those living in swamps tend to be especially stealthy in them as well as good swimmers. Meanwhile, some can produce a vine with sensory organs to sneakily peer and listen through small openings. Those interested in other cultures often develop a knack for learning about them. Finally, some leshies are outright toxic, perhaps grown from poison ivy or the like.

With their toughness and wisdom leshies have “druid” written all over them, with perhaps a decent subset dedicated to ranger, hunter, and even tanky shifter, especially since both hunter and shifter have options for leshies and other plantfolk in particular, and druids have the likes of leshy callers for those seeking to be stewards of the lesser of their kind. That constitution bonus also suits them well as kineticists, particularly wood kineticists and even more particularly the leshykineticist archetype. Beyond these tailored options though, they do quite well as tough tanky types, especially with that wisdom bonus helping to protect the minds of those using a martial class. Meanwhile, those that take the dex bonus over con could serve well with agile classes, though their intelligence penalty does somewhat limit them in terms of skills and certain arcane casting classes, but nothing insurmountable. Meanwhile, they also find things like sorcerer and bloodrager, especially with nature-themed bloodlines like fey or verdant to be fun and thematic options.

[internetskiff]

I think Empress Tihana is a pretty underrated Amnesia character. I find it hard to call her outright evil because despite everything she's sort of as much a prisoner of circumstance as the others. Everything she's done was out of a misguided belief that it'll end up saving Tasi's child. Yes, she's damned half the crew of the Cassandra to turning into monsters, but it seems like a sort of response to Tasi rejecting her initial offer. It's fucked up, but it seems she did it in hopes Tasi would be more open to suggestion under the effects of it - she still wanted to save her child even then. Judging by the fairytale retelling of her rule over Zerzura, I'm not even sure how much say she had in becoming "The Last and Eternal" Empress of her bloodline. " 'Nonsense', said the wise people, 'We will brew you a magic potion, and then you will live forever.' " - makes it sound as if it was mostly the Alchemist's idea. Brings me to another point, but she and another Zerzurian seems to be the only real example of how an overabundance of Vitae can affect the anatomy:

You see all the roots sprouting all over her throne chamber? I don't think they're plants at all. Judging from the fact that she can command them, willing them to move and even using them to try and tear open a wall during one of the endings, I think this is all actually an extension of her body. She's sprouted out all over the room. I'm not even sure if the way her head split open is a direct result of some sort of surgical intrusion to supply her with Vitae or if her head split open as her body began to grow more and more reliant on the supply, deforming and spreading until it covered her entire throne room. Kita seems to suffer from the same effects, though to a lesser extent since unlike the Empress, who's feeding on an entire city's worth of suffering, he seems to have been leeching off of one single leyden jar of Vitae the whole time.

He's been encased in similar vines that seem to have sprouted from his legs, basically trapped in his chair for the rest of his life. I'm not sure if this is specifically how Zerzurian anatomy reacts to Vitae or if the human body would suffer similar effects if one tried to overextend their lifespan as those two have. Considering Kita calls his Vitae intake a "meagre portion", the amount of suffering Alexander collected during his time as the Baron of Brennenburg barely even equates to a single jar. It explains why he looks so old and withered compared to Kita and The Empress, his intake must've been enough to keep him alive but not enough to keep the effects of aging at bay. Thinking about it, there is a single example of how Vitae would affect human anatomy, but it is combined with the effects of turning into a Ghoul.

Lambert seems to be what happens when a Ghoul is allowed to absorb the Vitae inside of their system. I believe the only reason Rebirth's ghouls are so gangly and twitchy (and relatively humanoid) is because they are immediately bled dry of their accumulated Vitae by Alchemist machinery. Lambert on the other hand moves relatively smoothly, like an animal, and he has become a lot larger as a result of his environment, war being inherently a breeding groud for human suffering and therefore the perfect environment to cultivate Vitae. There is no one to take it from him, so his metamorphosis is allowed to progress even further. It's even more off-putting considering even now he seems to be only halfway done turning into something else. I think in the ending where you allow him to escape into No Man's land he will eventually grow into something even worse as he now has an unlimited supply of soldiers to torture, both enemy and ally. He seems to realize bullets do nothing to him during the encounter in the Roman ritual pit, so in that ending Henri has basically unleashed a near-unstoppable monster out into the world. Vitae offers an indefinite extension of life, but not without leaving it's mark on the user's body. Tasi's child would probably end up just as warped as The Empress if left in her care.