#so these might make.. decent bait..

[triptychofvoids]

*scurries up my eyes barely peeking over your desk and sets a plate of anatomy correct cookies for you and engi with a little sign before just disappearing*

(please don't let scout eat them!!!)

danke!! where did you get these? did you make them yourself? either way, i commend them for being so accurate! as accurate as cookies can be anyway

[dutybcrne]

Kaeya is rather touch averse, cringing away from casual contact people give him under the guise of being distracted or idle movement. He's used to it, the Ragnvindrs and Adenlinde got him used to frequent affectionate physical contact, but it can still be entirely Uncomfortable if he's touched by someone outside those he is close to or someone he's otherwise Allowed to touch him.

[seamistgale]

Bernard was being haunted.

His sus-o-meter isn't up to 100%, but if he's being real, it never is. The downside of being into conspiracy theories was that you were only partially sure which one was more skewed than the other. One day he could be convinced Batman is more cryptid than man, and then he'd stumble on some fascinating witness accounts that make him rethink the Vampire hypothesis.

This time, however, he's fairly sure this sort of freaky shit only happens to people in those cookie-cutter horror movies.

… Except this particular ghost might be of midwestern decent, or something, because they sucked at properly haunting.

Example number one:

It was rare that Bernard had dishes piled up. He lived alone, and occasionally Tim would come to his apartment; with a couple of games, some takeout boxes, and a movie later, there would be way more things to clean up than a whole weekend on his own.

The last time Tim came over, Bernard didn't bother cleaning up for the night, and then the trash just…. Disappeared.

Not like 'a burglar broke in for some weird fetish reason, and my trash is now gone' gone, but more 'the trash is in bags, the dishes are clean, and I swear the air smells fresher' gone.

That was strike one.

He brushed it off because Tim had been there. It was unlikely he just went on a stress cleaning spree at Bernard's place but… Well, Bernard's caught him doing way weirder shit. It's fine.

(it's not fine. You just didn't move things around on someone else's turf.

"…Clean up?" Tim echoed back from the phone, sounding as confused as Bernard felt the following morning. "I-- no, of course not!" and then hurriedly continued to reassure Bernard he'd never do that. Because Tim was nice like that, even after Bernard low-key accused him of giving him the Gotham equivalent of pissing in someone else's yard.

So, that was strike one in the back of his hindbrain that something was up.)

Strike two and three came together.

See, in Gotham's economy, sometimes your employer doesn't have your paycheck the week it should be. Who cares if you need to pay rent through or your landlord will double your rent? Neither your boss nor the landlord in question, obviously. So what he usually did was have a nest egg the size of his rent just in case.

But this month Bernard had splurged a little too much, so he was short. It was nothing big, he was just five bucks short.

The issue was, that his landlord was paranoid and was already breathing down his neck for not paying the next month's rent the day before the new month started. Like clockwork, his landlord put a warning under his door, ready to evict him the same day the month started if Bernard didn't have the rent in cash the next morning.

He knew the eviction notice was at the door, but chose to ignore it because it didn't matter, he'd get those five one way or another by the end of the day.

By the time he came back, two things were out of place. The first was the eviction notice on his table. Again, no one moved someone else's shit around.

Strike three happened while counting his nest egg, and would you look at that! He had more money than he'd counted. Nothing ridiculous, just… He had those five bucks now.

All these little things were easy to miss, or misremember, but Bernard was not most people. But the catch here was… All these things were good things. Sort of.

So not only was this happening when he wasn't around, but they were happening to his… Advantage? He'd even call it good fortune if one was willing to ignore the lack of privacy… And maybe he would have, if this wasn't Gotham. Privacy was a mix between a luxury and a currency. Sometimes a kindness.

In some ways maybe it would have been an effective scare tactic, to mess someone's shit up, but this was not the way he'd personally go about it if he wanted someone to leave the building.

So here Bernard was, staring again at the dishes he had placed as bait, because he wasn't an idiot and tempting a ghost into anything remotely violent was stupid. The dishes were cleaned.

He squinted at the ceiling, then at the rest of his apartment, trying to gauge whether trying to make first contact was going to get him more haunted, killed, or turn him into a Saturday morning cartoon.

Finally, he picked up a cup. Not a glass cup, because why would he give the ghost any ammunition, but a couple of fairly clear plastic cups, a marker, two sticky notes, and filled both cups with tap water decently enough so a mild tremble would be noticeable.

The first sticky note said "Yes", and the second, predictably, said "No."

"So." Bernard sat in front of the cups, feeling halfway like a dumbass for doing this in the first place, and halfway like he's about to do the worst decision of his life because it might just work. "You from out of town, or are you just really shitty at this?"

[ronearoundblindly]

omg not me freaking out that i am part of the group that gets bait gifs! FRIENDS!!!!!!! i'm fine. i'm chill. don't leave me!

This took me a minute to figure out what I wanted Sir Dorksalot to have done that was sketchy enough to have him make this face...

Watch The Fish, Jake Jensen x reader headcanon wholeass fic in bullet format because my god this got long

Warnings for mentions of masturbation and porn, accidental then totally intentional voyeurism, awkward and oblivious!Jake--so just Jake, yeah?--and smutty implications...

🥹 roommates to lovers 😊

you rent a pretty large house maybe even with one or two others at first, but they move out

jake has to use it as a crashpad sometimes because he'll be away for so long at a time, but he pays rent and the entire electrical & internet bill no matter what

you keep a fish tank in the living room

after jake comes back from months in hiding abroad away, he gets so excited to be home and spend time with his niece that he hosts an after-game pizza party for her soccer team

someone practices headbutting the ball inside and nearly topples the tank

jake catches the whole thing with his broad arm-span and a decent amount of strength just in time when it wobbles the whole table beneath it. his heart nearly stopped, and he's so grateful the glass didn't break. thank god you weren't home.

however, you insist on moving the fish to your room instead once he tells you.

jake's a little sad to see them go. he pouts so much you decide to take pity on him, buying a web cam to mount beside the tank so jake can watch them whenever he wants. he loves to do voices for each one, personalities, soap-opera-like dramatic storylines, the works

as an aside you ask him if the sound can be turned off on the camera. jake says yeah but he mostly means he can turn it to mute on his computer.

which he does, for the record, but he has to remember to do it each time he pulls up the feed of da fishies. honestly, half the time he's wearing headphones and the other half you aren't home while he puts the Marauders (because there's just one fat one) onto his third monitor for background.

so he forgets that the sound is on and a thing he might need to avoid

weeks later, maybe months, jake finally removes his headphones after a very long stint of coding, completely unaware of what time it is and that you are home in your room

at first, jake is dead convinced that some porn ad has popped up in a window behind his work, something he would go apeshit about and ransomware bomb the shit out of whoever wrote such slippery spam

the fish are peaceful as ever, blooping away whilst jake frantically closes program after program trying to find the hot chick moaning on his desktop...until it's all closed and the buzzing remains though his tower's fan stopped...then the squelching noise starts

jake is frozen in place, looking away from the fish like they're the damn problem, but he doesn't cut the feed

he...he shouldn't

he should turn it off or just mute it like he promised

and he tries

he tries really hard, gang

it's the cursor's fault that it hits the command to send the audio to his bluetooth headphones instead of mute

and he sets the headphones down on the keyboard, gnawing on his bottom lip and watching his closed bedroom door in anticipation of...getting caught, maybe? he's not sure

he watches the fish putter around like it's no big deal

which it isn't, right?

you're human. he's human. humans have urges. they touch themselves--they touch each other, too--and there's no harm in that. if anything...jake encourages it, or he would...if you knew that he knew about this

the noises are so faint from the itty bitty speakers two feet from his face, but he doesn't pick them up, still debating what to do

because there's a big difference between what jake should do in this situation and what he wants to do

he mutes audio and then cuts off the livestream

at least, that's what he did the first time it happened

he knows he's a perv. jake can't help it.

it becomes a game of sorts. it's like practice recon for learning a target's routine. not that jake needs practice at the job he already fucking has but that's how his brain justifies laying on his own bed in the glow of the fish tank feed with his headphones turned way up

he knows your bed is on the other side of your room from when he moved the fish tank in

he knows what your underwear look like from the laundry room downstairs

he knows what you smell like from the shared bathroom and the products lining your shelf

he now knows there's a bottle of toy cleaner in one of your sink drawers

and he shouldn't but he absolutely touches himself listening to you, fists himself when you're fucking a toy he imagines six-shapes-to-Sunday, teases himself when all you're doing is breathing softly from across the whole house and he's cold and covered in cum by the end

to be fair, jake hates himself because of all this, but he is now mildly addicted

he doesn't even exit out of the livestream anymore. it just stays up on his monitor like a screensaver, but he doesn't realize that once he takes his headphones out of range, the audio transfers to his speakers again

so jake goes on a mission for a few days, and at some point while you are cleaning up your room, playing music, you find two pairs of jake's socks in your load of clean laundry and go to toss them in his room...where the same music you're listening to way down the hall is playing...in sync...

you're horrified and then embarrassed and then quickly realized it might mean nothing

you have to test if it means something

jake returns from his mission on complete autopilot

just so damn tired

throws down his duffle on top of some socks he doesn't remember leaving out and just hits the shower for a long, long time

he hasn't talked to you yet

he hasn't even seen you except your car is home and your door is shut

he goes about his business

the volume on his speakers isn't high but he hears you speaking and assumes you're on the phone

he pays it no mind. he is glad to be home, glad you're fine since he's just been in a part of the world where most people are not safe.

in a weird sort of way, he feels he's earned the mundane sort of comfort that comes from "the same ol'" of this house

he's wiped out, so he crawls into bed with his headphones immediately, hair barely toweled dry, not bothering with boxers because...why make more laundry?

and then the worst thing happens

there's a man's voice coming through his headphones, and jake scowls in frustration and rage

did you go and get a fucking boyfriend? in a couple of days? or goddamnit is this some tinder shit in his home right now?

but it only gets worse

he can hardly contain himself, what with the gagging sounds and this dude telling you to take it like the whore you are, and JAKE WILL LITERALLY BURN THIS PLACE DOWN

now his ass is putting on clothes

now his ass is ready to riot

the sex gets more and more degrading; spanking noises and even choking, but not in a seemingly consensual way, which is when jake rips his headphones off, storms down the hall and barrels straight through your bedroom door

where...you...aren't

no one is. no you. no man.

just your laptop sitting on your desk near the fish tank, playing the money shot of a porn video he was just listening to

get the fuck out. get out. get out. his brain screams, and he bolts

he makes it three feet before stopping short

you're standing at the top of the stairs, a bowl of ice cream in hand, licking the spoon unbelievably slowly with your whole tongue

you're fucked. you're fucked. you're fucked. his brain adds helpfully.

"hey, jakey," you say with a smile. "whatcha doing?"

A/N: this cat is officially my reaction to pretty much everything because...well...it's very accurate.

[Main Masterlist; Jake Jensen Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

THERE'S A SEQUEL!

[sugoi-writes]

Nun! Alastor X Reader - Part 2 - The Confessional

HahahaHAH ITS HERE!

Warnings: serious filth and sacrilege, mentions of tentacles, some choking, fingering, oral (surprise for whose receiving~) and some really depraved confessions and convos. Cursing!!! Yay, sin! I hope you guys enjoy 💗 there will be a VERY important poll at the end, so be sure to give it a look 👀

Edit: I noticed a few mistakes on my 100th read-through, and made some changes. Apologies for that!

Never had you felt more nervous when stepping towards a chapel, hands wringing themselves soothingly. The sweat clung to your palms as you looked up towards the looming structure, head straining to take in the full magnitude of the building. The intricate stained-glass windows were illuminated under the moonlight, casting grand scenes across the earth at your feet.

In Hell, most sinners were more active at night. Depending on the Ring you would visit, you would likely run into 'unsavory' company. But thankfully, this humble part of the Pentagram was lulling with sleep, as if abiding by the arbitrary notion of a "Sabbath Day". How ironic.

You wet your lips, cursing yourself for not taking better care of yourself, before you quietly enter the building. Your eyes scanned the main hall, the room you had sat in not too long ago. Candles lit up the pulpit faithfully at the front of the chamber, while torches lined the perimeter. In this lighting, the room seemed so different, giving off the air of a deathly calm and peace; a juxtaposition to its normally bustling, jittery energy.

You almost called out into the dim room, but restrained yourself. You bowed your head, looking down cast before uttering a gentle apology for the intrusion. When you looked back up, you nodded, hyping yourself up before coming into the room further.

It is by this point that you hear something shuffling, your head snapping towards the sound. Your bravado was instantly dashed as you flew into a panic. Your eyes flash with fear, hands flying defensively upward... before you sigh with relief. You caught sight of a small, fuzzy mouse, scurrying away from you. False alarm, for now...

Your eyes scan your surroundings again, before you spy a short hallway. You step towards it, noticing that there appeared to be a private area. You squint in the dim light, spying a humble looking booth within the room.

Bingo. This must be where "confessions" occur.

You start to make your way down the hall, eager to meet with the Priest about redemption. Your head was high; you had genuine, innocent hope that this wouldn't be some money laundering, bait-and-switch scheme. And if it was... well, you just might punch a priest.

Your eyes observe paintings on the wall; you were surrounded by familiar depictions. The birth of Jesus, the Crucifixtion of Christ... the First Fallen Angel, Lucifer's decent. The rise of both Lilith and Lucifer in Hell... all of the depictions reminded you just how dire your predicament was, and how much you desperately wanted to leave hell.

In the last frame in the hallway, you spy a photograph, pausing to get a closer look. In the center, arms folded pridefully, there stood the Priest, St. Vox... among him, to both sides, stood honest though demonic looking nuns. You squint at the form to his right, unable to make out the face of the tall, slender Nun. All you could make out was a set of yellowed, razor sharp teeth smiling back at you. You shuddered, unable to shake the feeling you were being watched, before you entered the private room.

You were welcomed in perfect silence, your eyes trained on the confessional booth before you. A simple construction, for sure, but the carvings and finishes made the booth seem... expensive. You walked up to it, hand tracing intricate carvings of religious iconography. Snakes, the Forbidden Fruit, Angelic wings... a myriad of designs and carvings litered the enter frame. Had you had better lighting, you would take the time to appreciate it more... but you were here on strick business.

Without hesitation, you entered the booth, having a seat in the left side. You were not comforted by a cushion or pillow, the seat creaking under you. You flinched, the noise almost deafening in the resounding silence. And then, you waited, waiting for a sign of the Priest you sought to speak to.

When the bench in the booth to your left suddenly creaked, you nearly banged your head on ceiling. Your heart was in your throat, frightened; did the door even open??? How did someone get in there so quickly???

A throat was cleared, the sound of static crackle replaced with a low hum, before a familiar voice cut through.

"Child, I apologize for keeping you waiting. Sadly, there's no rest for the wicked, nor those who seek to help them." You sigh in relief as Vox speaks to you, shoulders instantly relaxing. You fold your hands neatly in your lap, looking towards the booth's door as you spoke.

"No worries! It uhh-- it wasn't for long, if that's what you're worried about. I... well, your Nun informed me that you had a chance to hear me out? I hope that I came at the correct time..."

Midnight, on the nose. Though some cultures differed, you were sure you were correct on this notion...

"My Child, you came at the perfect time. But, I must fulfill my duty to you; to listen first. What have you come to speak about?"

You leaned back as your thumbs twiddle, suddenly sheepish," Well... I know your methods of redemption usually come through... err, "offerings". Monetary ones, at that. I was wondering if you had ever seen anyone be saved? Redeemed and brought to Heaven on just... good will and sinless lifestyle alone?"

A dark chortle... then, an uproarious laughter fills the booth as you look in shock.

"Oh, dear Child, you are mistaken! A sinner is not capable of change! Nor is a sinner able to even fathom walking to the Heavenly Gates. No... the actions taken can never be washed clean... at least, not in Hell. What's done is done. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. But..."

You feel your skin crawl as you feel the Priest facing you, still unable to see him in the darkness of the booth, just behind a lattice-patterned divider.

"You mention humble offerings... now those have proven to make life in hell more... comfortable. Much more so than that of anyone. Offerings have the ability to keep you safe; make you privy to things that others are not." You shrink back from the voice as it draws closer, a characteristic glitch setting in the tone.

"I-- your money can make you safe. It can welcome you to my fold, dear... Or... if money isn't on the table... there are... other ways to earn favor in this sacred place."

Your face instantly morphed from bafflement to rage, anger brewing in your core," What-- what are you saying?!?"

The voice past the partition seems to smile a wider," Dear, I believe you know that your soul could be traded... for freedom. For pleasures. Who best to give it to than a Priest who can promise you untold riches? No salvation, but, comforts in this life time? I can give you that-- and SO much more!!!"

"Forget it!!!" You shrieked, standing firmly on your feet and slamming your fist into the wall," I do have a confession to make, after all!"

You feel your eyes welling with hot, angry tears as your words spew out, unabashed," I LOATHE your methods! I think that taking people's money for their loyalty is-- it's sick! Almost as sickening as buying their love with promises of salvation! You're just-- just some pompous, religious twat!"

You slam your fist into the partition again, feeling your anger bleeding into your physical form," I'll tell you-- I'll tell you that I think you're a fucking sham.. this whole Chapel is! The only GOOD thing you have in this building is your fucking Nun, Alastor!"

The voice from the other end does nothing to interrupt you, seemingly silenced by your fury.

"In fact-- I think I will go seek her-- him??? THEM out!!!"

The door to your booth is slammed open by your hand, as you trudge towards the door.

"I've had it with this discussion. You aren't here to help me. You're here to coerce me. And I'm not gonna listen to another word of your warped gospel, you cheap, conniving, greedy fUCKER--!"

You gasped when you were suddenly slammed into the wall, body pressed flush to it as someone pinned you from behind. You struggled, choking as the air was unintentionally pushed out of your lungs. You became frantic as the hot breath of the demon behind you fanned across your ear. Shit-- shit!!! You fucked up!

A sickening, twisted laughed bellowed in the chamber, the tone of voice morphed and unable.

"At last, Sweet Lamb... you've begun to see the light!"

You freeze, eyes straining to look behind you. The voice of the Priest was no more, replaced with the familiar, velveteen tone of the Nun. You opened your mouth, struggling to speak with no support," Y-You! This is-- please explain!" was all you could squeak out, before a neutral hum sounds behind you. You shuddered as it reverberated through you, no time to think as you were spun around.

Again, the Nun's body pinned your own, craning downward to look at your frightened face," Sadly, the Priest could not make it to Confessional tonight... But, I was more than happy to step in, in his absence." You trembled as his arms left deep rivets in the wall beside you, swallowing hard," And, to be frank, the help he would have offered you would have been the same; inadequate, even."

You stopped struggling as you locked eyes with the demon above you, swallowing shallowly as he spoke again.

"Now, as for helping you: I'm afraid the only entity who can divinely interfere with your predicament is the Lord and his Seraphims. Not even the Ruler of the Hells could hope to overwrite God's Will." You eyes turn downcast, face heating at the words. Of course... that would make sense. Only God and the angels can open the gates, right? How foolish an idea you had...

"However..." You felt a clawed finger beneath your jaw, beckoning you to look up. You were faced with the same, wide smile, eyes narrow slits filled with delight.

"There are things that a Saint, such as myself, can still offer to you..." Your eyes widen in recognition: Aha! So he WAS a man, afterall. You blink, shaking your head quizzically.

"I have SO many questions-- for one, why would you be parading as a Nun, if you're a Saint?" Alastor's grin grows a touch mischievous, before a weighed sigh leaves him," Alas, the Priest here struggles with... containing himself. He has a history of giving in to Earthly desires, time and time again. I can bring him much discomfort with just my voice, let alone my body... I am merely a vessel for the Lord, and yet he wishes to, well, lay his claim. And so, the habit conceals everything he can't keep his eyes off of; everything he is not permitted to touch by the Lord."

His neck tilts, cracking with the harsh angle as he looks to you," I think it's quite the sound idea, don't you think?"

Alastor leans back, his hips still pinning you to the wall. Your face heats hastily with embarrassment. He seemed to be gauging your every move, calculating what you may try while under his trap.

"Sure, right-- Okay... perverted Priest. Wouldnt be the first time I've heard of that..." You looked up shakily to the nun... saint...? You aren't sure what to call him anymore. Alastor quirks a brow up at you, egging you to speak.

"Okay, okay, second question: what are you implying that you can help me with?" You yelp as a knee comes between your legs, caging you again. Alastor bends down at the waist to match your height, his face growing closer to yours. With hands at either side of your head... you were still so close... and so, so trapped.

"I think we both know that you have something else to get off your chest... Thoughts that you've been plagued with, My Lamb." A slender, warm finger runs down your cheek, knuckle first, ending the trail just below your jaw. You gasp as Alastor comes impossibly closer, his fringe nearly brushing your forehead.

"Wh...what do you mean...?"

The Saint chuckles darkly, shaking his head," Oh, wayward one... your eyes betray you. They betrayed you the moment you looked into mine." You nearly squeaked as his other hand brushed through your hair, ensuring he could see your entire face.

"I saw you, even from across the room... Eyes wide in awe, wonder... You were completely spellbound by a riveting performance. You tried to look away, you shifted in your seat to silence your nerves... And yet: your eyes never strayed far from this Servant of the Lord."

You could feel his breath ghosting over your lips, subconsciously parting them as he continued to speak," Your body kept betraying your internal struggle, Little Lamb."

A choppy gasp as the hand in your hair ran down to your neck, lightly caressing and pressing to your pulse.

"I could sense your heartbeat, quivering and loud, with each movement I made, each inhale I had to take to sing. Each time I smiled just a touch more... I could almost taste the sweat that ran down your brow, your eyelids fluttering during the final chorus. Your thighs could only do so much to relieve the pressure that built up in you. You were enthralled... but not by the Lord's gospel: but by me."

His hand drifted down to your chest, settling over the very spot your heart should be. Your breathing quickened, your eyes never leaving his. You cursed yourself, biting your lip to stifle any shameful noise you might create.

St. Alastor's smile never wavered as he leaned over you, that familiar heat ghosting over your neck.

"I didn't miss the way that your pulse quickened when I walked closer... you hadn't even been a part of my original section, you know. But Sister Eunice was more than willing to switch. Your palms became clammy, eyes glassy as you tried desperately to plan your escape... And the moment my arms caught you, I knew for sure: you also struggle with impurities of the flesh. Specifically..."

You watched with baited breath as his hand drifted lower, until they landed on the hem of your bottoms, ghosting just above your core,"... you struggle to keep your thoughts, your body's reactions, at bay around me."

You gasp as you are groped by the large hand of the Saint, breath already ragged from his words," But... to know for sure, I need to hear these impurities come from your lips. The first step to forgiveness is confession; honesty. You must repent for your actions, in order to properly atone. So... is there anything you need to confess to, Bashful One?"

Your eyes glazed over, a familiar heat brewing downstairs as you felt his palm grind against your clothed sex. Your head rolled back, lip quivering as the Saint waited patiently. Your mouth fell open, a quiet sigh escaping you.

"Yes, there it is... let it out, Lamb. Don't hide in shame from the Lord. Embrace it-- embrace this--" You whined as your arms grabbed at his habit, his hands shifting and rubbing you through your clothing torturously. You try to stifle another moan, eyelids fluttering," Th-This is-- haaah!" You let your eyes fall closed, brows furrowing," Y-You have the wrong idea, I didn't come here to f-fuCK--"

You could barely contain yourself as you felt the hands of the Saint slip into your bottoms, fingers tracing a sensual line from the bottom of you slit, up to the pearl that sat atop it. You whined as Alastor pressed against it, unable to think clearly as he began to swirl two digits around your clit. His movements are slow, not to overwhelm you, eyes taking in your expressions to monitor your progression.

"St. Alastor! I--" you caved to the feeling, grinding into the saint's hand," I-I didn't come for this, but... I-I did think immoral things about you." Good choice, Alastor thought.

You bit your lip as you were rewarded a pinch to your bud, back arching off of the wall as you wailed," I-I-- fuck-- y-your voice was really-- mmph!" You grabbed onto the demon's shoulders above you, rooting yourself in place as you felt Alastor's pace increase.

"Hah... y-your hands looked-- feel-- so warm! Uhhn! Y-your eyes were--" Alastor pinches again, correcting you," A-Are--! Your eyes are s-so deep-- it feels like you were-- i-it felt like you were undressing me with them!"

A sly smile graces his face, leaning in to place chaste, innocent kisses to your neck," ...and perhaps they were, clever Lamb... Perhaps they were~" You whined at the notion, mouth hanging open as you continued your confession. You could hardly think straight as you felt his fingers quicken, your eyes beginning to lose focus. You trembled, knowing that this confession had been doing lewd thing to your mind and body.

"W-When you caught me, for a moment I felt- hah-- saAAaafee~" You mewl as Alastor's fingers move lower, teasing your entrance, where you desired his fingers the most. Your face was tilted further to the side, before you felt a wet, hot mouth suckling at the junction of your neck. You shuddered, fighting the mewl he tore from you so easily. Unsatisfied, you felt sharp teeth biting down, making you shriek with surprise. Pain was quickly replaced with a soothing pleasure, Alastor kissing and licking at the wound apologetically. You sighed, working up the mental capacity to speak again.

"I-I felt, no-- I needed those arms around me again. I wanted..." Boldly, you moved your arms from his shoulders, pulling lightly at Alastor's veil," I really wanted to see what was underneath all of this, too... call it a sin, but... I... I have nothing to hide anymore; not from you or the Lord."

You watch as Alastor's head doubles over, a shaky groan escaping him. When he looked back up at you, his eyes blended in with the rest of the room: they became pitch black.

"What an obedient, honest fucking pet you are, Little Lamb~"

Without warning, two fingers made their intrusion, but your silken heat was relaxed enough to take him. You cried out in bliss from the reward, tugging at the head dress again. Alastor simply kept going, leaning in to kiss your forehead as he thrust his digits up into your welcoming, quivering heat.

"Ahh, ahh~ I've taken an oath, little one. No one is permitted to see such secrets~"

You whine as you clamp down on his wet fingers, brows furrowing. You needed more; you demanded to see more. You didn't miss the way that Alastor hissed, brows furrowing at how tight you were. It seemed that he enjoyed the display far more than he let on...

Attempting to ground himself, his hand landed on your neck, holding you in place. The effect seemed to make you wetter, eyebrows raising with realization as your moans deepened. What an interesting revelation~ The Lord most certainly worked in mysterious ways!

He leans down to your ear, voice low and dripping with a sacrilegious heat," ...Tap once if you would like me to tighten my grip. Tap twice to stop it immediately." Your eyes, wide with desire, fluttered and rolled towards the ceiling, but you nodded nonetheless. If this was how all of your confessions would go... then you would become a zealot of the Lord and the Saint before sunrise.

You gave his shoulder a tap, hand landing there as you let his fingers explore and scissor the walls of your pussy. Alastor was happy to oblige, his hand squeezing your neck gently.

The action made your mouth run dry, your eyes glazing with desperate, passionate tears as his fingers thrust deliberately in your core.

Another tap to his shoulder, your eyes gazing into the flickering radio dials that had become Alastor's pupils. Again, Alastor was happy to amuse you.

You couldn't contort or stifle the noises you made, grunts and mewls the only music to leave your delicate throat. St. Alastor's hand squeezed as promised, making you flutter pathetically around him. You whined as you took in the nun turned god, your tongue hanging precariously out of your mouth. He smirked, a dangerous chortle bouncing off the chamber walls.

"Already at a loss for words, Lamb?" Alastor's fingers inside of you flex inward, pressing against a spot that made you see the pearly gates.

"My, my, your confessions will fall unto deaf ears at this rate~ Speak up, won't you? The Lord and I are granting you an audience~" He knew you couldn't speak; he knew and he didn't care. He just wanted to see you keen and struggle against him, unable to do anything but beg for more or stop this all together.

You couldn't even think of a sentence, let alone speak it into existence. Your lips flapped desperately, hands snaking up to grip at the wrist and hand on your throat. Your legs quaked, your eyes threatening to roll back as you gave a singular tap. Just one.

Alastor's eyes gleam with insidious joy as his smile expands.

Even tighter.

You felt your hips guiding themselves along Alastor's devout fingers, chasing a feeling that was hastily approaching. Alastor did little to stop you, intrigued by the display. At the intrusion of a third finger, a wanton dribble of saliva cascaded down your chin. A strangled groan: you certainly didnt mind the delicious stretch that your entrance underwent.

St. Alastor returned his attention to your face, licking a heated stripe across your parted, swollen lips. You sputtered with ecstacy, the feeling further spurring you on. You felt your coil tighten, your throat burning as you panted with reckless abandon.

"Come unto me, Little Lamb."

You needed little motivation, a silent scream gracing your face as you completely shut down. Your legs spasmed and stilled, heart racing as Alastor finally let go of your neck. Your voice was hoarse for a beat or two, hands instinctively going up to your neck. You felt a small, dried blood trail from the bite on your neck, trembling with the notion that he visibly marked you. If he didnt intend to own you, then he made a grave mistake.

You only whine as the feeling of his warm fingers left your core; this only managed to light a fire in you. You look back towards the Saint as your eyes lidded, a heavy sigh his only warning as you pushed him off of you. Alastor, surprised, caught himself with a pitch black tentacle that manifested behind him. You start to unbutton your bottoms, pushing them off of your hips before kicking them to the side. You start trudging towards the Saint with a renewed heat in your eyes. Alastor's grin nearly split his face in half as he watched you, completely overtaken by your desire to commit more sins.

Alastor tilts his head, taking deliberate paces away from you and towards the confessional booth. He had a grand idea!

"It seems that you are still plagued with impure thoughts. Tell me, Dear Lamb..." Alastor practically chuckles as he takes you by the wrist, tugging you off your feet and into the booth. You land harshly on his lap, the both of you groaning as you grind down on his firm, tall erection.

His tone was dangerous, a myriad of tenacles materializing around your limbs," What other impurities trouble you, my Lamb?" You grow impatient, boldly reaching for his lap before your hand is held aloft. Cursed tentacle!!!

"P-Please, Sister-- Saint Alastor," Your tone comes our more like a plea than a demand, as your other arm is held over your head. Your legs are spread apart, your bare cunt dribbling your essence; it drips down your glistening thighs in a tantalizing way.

"I have had thoughts of you f-fucking me... a-and I don't know how to b-b-- AHH!!" Your hips buck at an unfamiliar feeling, one of Alastor's tendrils caressing and teasing your entrance," I-I don't how to-- How to banish the thought... I-I may need higher intervention. I-I need your blessing, St. Alastor."

A prideful, malicious smile replaces the amusement on his face, long, slithering tongue dragging across his lips," Well, that is certainly a hefty demand! You poor, sinful wretch!"

You cry out in pleasure as the tentacle spears you, exploring parts much deeper than his fingers could reach. You felt your arousal slicken the foreign body, making the intrusion easier. A wanton moan sounds in the air everytime the tentacle thrusts into you.

Alastor stands on his feet, flicking a wrist as the tentacle's speed picks up. You were completely helpless to his whims, your eyes threatening to roll back as you are overcome by the tentacles' hold and movements. The Saint looked all too pleased as you heard the rustling of fabric. You tried to look down, but a tentacle covers your leering eyes, making you wail in frustration. Alastor tuts like a disappointed teacher, shaking his head.

"And here I was, about to reward you for your blatant, unabashed honesty... Should I stop? Should I call the Priest to finish the job? Or should I leave you here, tied up and aching for relief... Just to let any-old-sinner find you in such a state?"

You freeze, biting your lip as the tentacle slows to a painfully slow slog. You whine again, thrashing your head in protest," N-No, no, no...! Ughhnn, no please! Don't stop! I-I still want your blessing, Alastor! Pl-Please!"

A wicked laugh sounds in front of you as a hand snakes up your top, finding and fondling your right nipple. You jolt at the sensation, the feeling multiplied due to the lack of sight. You weren't expecting the tentacle inside of you to stir to life at the same time, now with a renewed, brutal pace. You were practically screaming at the onslaught, bouncing from every thrust you were gifted.

"Ohh, I knew you would succumb to God's Will, my dear... You see, we all fall helpless, begging at God's feet."

You feel yourself being dragged down until your knees hit the floor , your hands still held high above your head. You weren't expecting warm, firm flesh to land on your face, gently slapping at your parted lips. You could only speculate what it was, your thighs unable to clamp together.

"I must warn you, receiving my blessing can be quite taxing... do you still wish to accept it, Lamb?"

Your tongue comes out from your lips, swiping along Alastor's cock. You feel his hips stutter as you lick all that you could reach, your head already lightheaded from your desire to please him. You swirl your tongue around the head, the tip of your tongue teasing the slit in your movements. You heard a warning growl, a hand fisting your hair and holding you in place.

Still unable to see, you look up towards the noise, mouth wide open," G-Grace me with your blessing, Oh Shepard..." You could feel Alastor's breath hitching, trying to restrain himself.

"Guide this Lamb to the light of the Lord. Please.."

You were given no time to prepare as Alastor thrust into your mouth, his animalistic grunt your only solice. You were shell-shocked as he and the tentacle worked in tandem to break you. You swiveled your hips and met the thrusts from below, arching your back as your head was used as a personal cock sleeve. Though you wished to see Alastor's own lips, bruised and panting, his hair clinging to his forehead as he thrust into you... the feeling would have to surfice. And though you wanted to run your hands along his abdomen, raking your nails across his pistoning hips... you couldn't deny that the feel of the whole ordeal verged on the precipice of Nirvana.

You groans and mewls made his cock twitch and leak more precum, making your mouth even more slick for his movements. He couldn't deny how good this felt; he, himself, would have a lot to answer for later, in the privacy of the basement. He moaned as he thought of his future atonement, limbs spread and head to the floor to form the cross before a statue of Jesus. His fingers would be clawing into the floor as he recited his virtues and prayers, pleading forgiveness for a sin he felt no guilt for.

His mind clouded with visions of you, trying to seduce and distract him. Your hands would trace along his body and caressing his traitorous, sensitive tail. This information, for now, was still unknown to you...

He practically shouted from the pleasure your mouth offered him, one hand holding your face still while the other braced himself against the confession booth door and splinted the wood.

He was already approaching his climax, and by the looks of it, you were nearing your second. His smile strained as his hips lost their rhythm, opting to seek the feeling and not the motion.

"Fuck-- fuck, Lamb... oh, my sweet Lamb!!!"

You whined around Alastor's cock, your hands struggling against their restraints as you cunt throbbed with the desire to cum.

"You are so-- fuck, so fucking warm!" You felt your orgasm bubbling in your core, your tongue doing its best to carress and snake around his cock, welcoming his release with open mind and body.

"An obedient Lamb... worthy of my blessing!! Arggh-- b-blessings upon you, Lamb!! Take it! Take every last drop-- Hah--"

You gagged as Alastor bottomed out in your mouth, unable to pull away as his 'blessing' painted you white as snow. You shrieked around his cock as a new tentacle traced fast circles around your clit, forcing your release to hit you by surprise. You screamed into the climax, feeling a warm gush between you legs as you finally came undone.

Alastor pulled out of your mouth, his tentacles still touching and pulling you through your release. Your eyes are uncovered as Alastor kneels before you, kissing you hard and passionately. Your hands were soon freed, and so you tore off the damned veil. You began tangling your hands into the Saint's red and black locks, your euphoria starting to die down.

Once you felt like you were back in the right state of mind, you parted from Alastor's lips, a pleasant smile on your face. You looked down to your lap, embarrassed at the unmistakable puddle you left behind from your passions. Alastor looked too, eyes flicking back to yours as his grin softened.

"Worry not. I will handle this, Lamb. No one will know of this night. And your confessions will be safe with me."

"...REALLY now..."

The both of your freeze, looking to one another as a familiar voice sounds behind you.

"Y'know, confessions: they're supposed to be in a private, sacred place... and from your actions, this place has been sullied and desecrated."

The door to the booth flies open, Alastor and you both jumping from the sudden BANG. Your eyes widen in horror at the Demon who stood in the doorway.

"What do you both have to say for yourselves?"

[elleloquently]

the wretched and joyful : ellie williams

life in jackson has been life with ellie williams, your best friend that you've spent nearly every day with. it was easy to ignore the butterflies or shaking hands, until ellie starts to pull away and you're left with untangling the feelings all on your own.

| a/n - excited to finally share the intro for my new multi part fic! i have so much planned for this. had to have an intro showing cute friendship stuff before it all gets destroyed. if you enjoyed reading this, please consider commenting/reblogging! <3 | c/w - general themes : ellie williams x female reader. mentions of violence, jealousy, best friends (to enemies) to lovers, angst, mutual pining, slow burn. this fic is purely for fun. with that being said, every single detail will not be canon compliant. if that may bother you, this might not be the fic for you! thank u!

you had almost died before you had made it to jackson.

you didn't really know why you weren't dead. you weren't really sure why the man with the gun took pity on you that day. maybe it really was your weakness that had saved you.

weakness, or plain stupidity. it didn't matter anyway.

when you were surrounded by a group of people on horses, you were fighting for sensibility. the lower halves of their faces had been covered with scarves acting as masks, and you didn't know if they were the bandits that assumably slaughtered your previous group or members of a rumored safe haven.

you had been scared and exhausted, fighting for your life even though you weren't even sure if that was what you wanted anymore. you yelled and spat out threats to spite the tears in your eyes, anything to defend yourself before your lungs would surely give out. driven purely by nerves, you continued waving your weapon around even when the man leading the group ordered you to drop it.

it was practically a death sentence. it should've been a death sentence, but it wasn't.

their promises of safety fell on deaf ears until you actually saw the place. even then, it was months until you got a decent night of sleep.

the man who was the first to point his gun at you, tommy, was also the first to lower it. you don't know what made him save you that day, but when you arrived at jackson he almost seemed amused.

in passing, he spoke to another man that you later learned to be joel.

"get ready for a case of deja fucking vu," tommy had muttered.

you didn't know what it meant, and you didn't know how to decipher the look that plastered itself onto joel's face.

you were the last surviving member of your group before jackson, or at least that's what you had to assume. nobody really believed that you had made it that far on your own, especially considering the state that you were in. you knew that they were weary about another group coming and looking for you, despite your honest confessions.

before jackson, before you were alone, you had been taken in by a group. the QZ was threatening to fall any day, and they had heard whispers. talk of safe communities throughout the states. with the information they had compiled across time, one of the rumors was bound to be true. you weren't admittedly close with any of the adults but on the night of chaos, they convinced you to join them.

you wanted to believe that they cared for you, but the truth lingered in the back of your mind. you knew that they knew that you wouldn't make it out. you wanted to believe that they were truly good, but when you shared your story with tommy, maria, and joel, you noticed the glances. the looks they shared. you didn't understand it until you were older, and even then it took awhile to come to terms with the truth.

your group wasn't saving you. they weren't looking out for you. they were using you. you were bait.

on the day that you had lost them, they told you to stay put in the woods. they told you that you would be safe there, because they weren't sure about what was up ahead. if the coast was clear, they would come back for you.

it wasn't true.

they had thought that they were heading into safety, and leaving you behind was a distraction to the bandits that had been hot on your trail. they had been wrong. they walked straight into trouble, and you went undetected.

and they had thought that you didn't stand a chance.

well, they were wrong. now all of them were dead and you were still here.

if only they stayed put, maybe they would've been saved too.

you were just about sixteen on the day that jackson opened itself up to you.

now, a few years later, you were proud to call jackson your home.

you had your own home, a house (though you swore that if the day ever came and jackson's population grew dramatically, you would be the first to offer it up. it was a compromise for allowing you to live on your own) to call your own, and friends. a community.

there weren't many people your age compared to the QZ, considering, but still somehow more than you had expected.

your first friend was dina, sent to check in on you days after you had first arrived in jackson. maria was concerned that you wouldn't be a good fit after you had stayed inside, hesitant to show your face. dina had knocked on your door, introduced herself, and by the very next day you had been out and about.

then came jesse. and then ellie. and then cat. and then there was less of cat, until your little group had solidified into yourself, dina, jesse, and ellie. you would thank your lucky stars every single day that you had people to relate to, people that you could talk to and really trust.

dina and jesse were great. so was ellie, just... differently. not in a bad way though. never in a bad way. joel had originally warned you that she could be a little rough around the edges, but you didn't get that. you talked about a lot of things pretty quickly. you never really knew what it was like to have a best friend, but you were pretty sure that ellie was it.

you were practically attached at the hip, once upon a time. though it became lesser and lesser as time went on, you still had a certain fondness for ellie in your heart that no one else seemed to match.

it's not that you stopped being friends, because you still hung out just about every single day. she just seemed a little different. less comfortable maybe, and a little more jaded. not that you blamed her. it was just difficult trying to decipher how she would feel each day. sometimes, ellie made you feel as though you were the most important person in the world. other times, she always seemed to keep you at an arm's length. more so lately than ever before. maybe she was getting a little sick of you, or maybe she was just drained from patrol. whatever it was, your feelings never seemed to waver.

"you're late," you observed, squinting over at the figure approaching you.

"hardly. patrol took longer than we thought. don't get picky," the figure warned, reaching a hand out to you.

you ignored the gesture, pulling yourself up from the curb in which you were sat.

"a plan is a plan, williams."

the tone of your scolding was half-hearted and the crease on ellie's forehead eased.

"any chance at a rain check?" ellie asked.

the softness of her tone made you do a double take, scanning her features for any sign of unhappiness. ellie looked fine though, just tired.

"i promised addie that i'd bring you. she's been wanting to talk to you, you know."

"i don't know what for," ellie muttered begrudgingly, but you knew that it was only because she was feeling shy.

adeline hollis was an older woman residing in jackson. you had grown close throughout your time spent there, pretty much depicting her as a familial figure in your life. besides dina, she was one of the first people to actually talk you.

mrs. hollis was quick-witted, kind-hearted, and exceptionally good with a needle. she fixed up clothes for you often, and managed to turn any stray fabrics into articles of clothing that you actually felt proud of. you felt safe around her, allowed to be vain and wish for pretty things despite the state of everything else.

you shrugged and took a few steps, allowing ellie to decide whether or not she was going to follow after you.

"doesn't matter," you brushed off. "besides, she was fixin' up joel's boots, you can play delivery girl."

"you're annoying today," ellie complained, and you knew that she was following you because the sound of her voice was pretty close.

"i'm in a good mood," you replied, frowning as the words left your lips. were you?

you could never give yourself much time to think about it. it wasn't worth a second thought anyway, not now.

"right," ellie snorted, finally appearing at your side.

the sun was so bright that it felt warm, the feeling of late spring tangible wherever you went.

you glanced at ellie briefly, not trusting yourself to look more than once. her cheeks were turning pink from the sun and she looked sleepy. it made your heart swell.

you didn't knock once you had made it to the familiar front door - you knew that you didn't need to.

"addie!" you called into the home, leaving ellie to follow in after you. "we're here!"

you were quickly greeted with a hug, made to feel like each visit was a special occasion despite how frequent they were.

"there you are!" adeline beamed, catching ellie extremely off guard by greeting her with a hug as well. "i'm so glad you girls are here."

"hi mrs. hollis," ellie mumbled, a bashful smile adorning her lips. ellie's cheeks were red from the interaction and you cleared your throat to stifle a giggle.

"do you have it?" you inquired, prompting ellie's confusion from the way in which your eyebrows danced with the question.

"you'll love it," adeline assured, swiftly exiting the room and leaving you to bounce on your feet.

ellie managed to scoot her way closer to your side, leaning into you as she spoke. "what are you-"

"don't you love it?" adeline expressed confidently, holding up a long, flowing piece of fabric.

except, it wasn't just a piece of fabric anymore. adeline had worked it into a skirt for you, and your eyes widened in adoration.

"addie!" you squealed, rushing forward and hugging the material against your chest. ellie's presence was momentarily forgotten, nearly, until you spun around and held up the skirt to her.

"don't you love it?" you gushed, and ellie looked robotic in the way that she bobbed her head.

you examined the fabric closer. the faded, dainty floral pattern covering the skirt was more than you could've hoped for.

"i love it," you breathed, looking to adeline with wet eyes. if ellie didn't feel so uncomfortable, she probably would've snickered at you. "truly, thank you so much. this is beautiful," you admired.

"please," adeline waved a hand. "it keeps me busy. and you," she faced ellie, singling her out. "i don't know what that man does all day to put those godforsaken shoes in such a horrible shape."

ellie looked dumbfounded, and this time you didn't shy away from releasing your giggles.

"joel's boots are by the door," adeline sighed.

"right. thank you," ellie responded, moving to collect them as quickly as she could.

you bid farewell to adeline, expressing your gratitude about five more times until she all but pushed you out of the door. lovingly, of course.

ellie begrudgingly carried the boots as you twirled and skipped and admired your new article of clothing.

"we gotta go out now, do something special," you joked.

"yeah? what's the occasion?"

a quick glare shaped ellie up quickly.

"don't you think it's pretty?" you asked, desperate for a compliment despite the fact that you weren't even wearing it yet.

"i do," ellie agreed, quick to please you. "it's perfect for you."

"it is, isn't it?" maybe you really were in a good mood today. a real one. "what about dina and jesse?"

"what about them?" ellie mused, watching as you held the skirt carefully in your hands, not allowing it to drape on the ground.

"off?" you questioned thoughtfully, wrinkling your nose in ellie's direction.

ellie shook her head.

"really?"

"really. dina and jesse are back on. as of... yesterday?" ellie contemplated.

"wow, news travels slow i guess," you joked, causing ellie to nudge your arm.

"don't worry, they'll be broken up again before we know it. it's no use even keeping track anymore."

"ellie! that's mean," you laughed, shaking your head.

ellie felt a little guilty for teasing behind their backs but really, it was getting ridiculous. besides, the sound of your laughter eased the guilt pretty damn quick.

"come back with me," ellie changed the subject.

you faltered, nearly tripping over your own foot. "what?"

"to mine," ellie clarified. "give joel his-" she swung the boots at you, acting as if she was going to throw them. "-disgusting old new shoes."

your heart skipped a beat from the invitation and you had already known that you were going to say yes. ellie could have invited you to help her clean out shimmer's stall and you would've said yes without hesitation. speaking from experience, just once or twice...

"sure," you grinned.

if you went with ellie, you would probably spend hours listening to her as she went through her comic collection again. and then you would probably end up falling asleep. and then you would probably stay the night. you would share the bed, normal, and get a sick feeling in your stomach whenever her leg accidentally grazed your own, not normal.

determined to cling onto the feeling of a good day, you swallowed down the not normal feelings, as you usually did.

ellie looked at you and smiled, like genuinely grinned, and your fingertips went numb.

"last one there cleans shimmer after patrol," ellie taunted, the reason behind her smile no longer feeling pure.

"what?" you laughed in disbelief, just before ellie took off.

"ellie!" you shouted, fumbling to quickly catch up to her. "ellie williams! i don't even do patrol!"

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

"-this one's my favorite though. i mean, look at the cover. isn't it sick?"

ellie shoved the worn comic book in your direction, causing you to blink and raise your head to get a better look.

"it is really cool," you murmured. you knew it was her favorite issue, and you already knew what the cover looked like. still, you loved to hear her talk.

ellie sat up, peering at you. you were laying on your stomach, cheek buried in the blankets of ellie's bed.

"you're just agreeing with me," ellie grumbled, suddenly twinging with annoyance at the way your tank top strap was sliding down your shoulder.

"i'm agreeing with you because i agree," you huffed, wrinkling your nose at her.

ellie placed a firm hand on your hip, shoving you to the side.

"ellie!" you exclaimed, rubbing your eyes in an attempt to wipe the sleep from your system.

"scoot over," ellie instructed, pulling up the blankets.

"hm?" you questioned while you obliged anyway. you wanted to sleep over, to stay with your best friend for as long as possible but you didn't want to be a bother.

"you're sleeping over, aren't you?" ellie acknowledged, holding the covers up for you. the room was dark but lit lightly from the window. ellie prayed that you couldn't see the way in which she held her breath.

you adjusted your body, looking curiously at ellie. "do you mind?"

ellie shook her head, patting the spot next to her. "'course not."

that was all the confirmation that you needed. you slid your body under the blankets, next to ellie but mindful of the distance between yourselves. if you adjusted again you would be touching, so you stayed still and didn't move.

it was quiet, and you couldn't tell if it was awkward or comforting. maybe a little of both, and that was okay.

"are you tired?" you questioned, turning on your side to face ellie.

ellie copied, turning to face you and scanning your features in the dark. "yeah. is that okay?"

"yeah," you whispered. "do you have patrol tomorrow again?"

ellie nodded, and then realized you might not be able to see her. "yeah. with dina. but don't worry about leaving early, okay?"

you sighed, allowing your body to sink further into the bedding.

sleep was enveloping you quicker than expected, but it didn't surprise you based on how comforting you find it to be in ellie's presence. you were nearly off, until ellie's voice broke the silence and threw you out of your sleepy trance.

"it is pretty," she whispered.

"what?"

"your new skirt," ellie replied softly, earning a sleepy grin from you.

you muttered a quiet thank you, cheeks burning and mind whirling. you wanted to say more, but you could tell that ellie was already falling asleep and you didn't want to deprive her of it.

she was so honest, so sweet sometimes. you forced your eyes open, studying the girl sleeping next to you. it made your eyebrows furrow, the way your heart pounded when ellie was this close.

shit.

turning away, you shut your eyes again and willed sleep to come.

it must've, at some point, because before you knew it the sun was causing you to blink awake and you were stretching in an empty bed. the absence never failed to make your stomach drop, even though you already knew where ellie was.

laying alone in your best friend's bed made you feel a certain level of pathetic that was almost unknown.

you could've waited around until she got back, but you forced yourself up and away.

you would see ellie again later anyway, so it was better to have some space to yourself for awhile.

it wasn't anything that you could really make sense of, you just needed to clear your head before ellie was back consuming nearly all of your senses.

it wasn't a big deal, you would tell yourself over and over.

over and over until it felt true.

[wisteriagoesvroom]

how each driver would respond to “would you love me if i was a worm” 🪱

(and you actually get turned into a worm)

charles leclerc: gets the whole ferrari team to take turns looking after the worm. there’s a care roster and a motivational talk and everything. you become not charles’s worm but the ferrari worm. he posts a really cool social media story about “my journey looking after the worm.” you are loved, if a bit haphazardly.

max verstappen: “do i have time to keep a worm? probably not. but i will get someone to get you a decent box i guess. sorry if my cats eat you.”

oscar piastri: “no. you’re a worm.”

lando norris: professes his love and says “of course i would, babe”. only to be away so much on holiday or busy on track that you eventually perish in your enclosure

lewis hamilton: yes and will get you the most beautiful box with all sorts of fronds and ferns. he will build you the cutest little jungle gym of mind-enriching worm activities. you will see him about once a year but he will make sure you’re always fed and happy. he will help raise awareness of worms in their ecosystems all over the planet

carlos sainz: actually is very good at keeping the worm/you alive but is thrown for a loop because charles and lewis are all doing exceptionally with their worms. he flushes you down the toilet in a moment of emotional distress

alex albon: doesn’t tell anybody about the worm but will eventually have the longest living worm although everyone will forget this fact.

george russell: holds a drivers meeting about whether it is ethical to keep worms and should they in fact be considered emotional support animals. the vote is split and the outcome is undecided

fernando alonso: makes a tiktok with you “day in a life with my worm”. then leaves you on the side of the road and you roast to death under the sun

lance stroll: begrudgingly looks after you for about a week after which he pawns you off to his sister who is now stuck with his random worm

kevin magnussen: gives the worm to his daughter who uses it for a school project. it’s very cute

nico hulkenburg: people forgot about him so he didn’t even get a worm. he’s not that sad about it.

zhou guanyu: would seem totally neutral about it but end up incorporating a worm design into his track fits and his helmets. his worm helmet goes super viral on weibo.

valtteri bottas: will use you for fishing bait and might be a bit sorry about it.

pierre gasly and esteban ocon: constantly fighting over the same worm. nobody knows that the other has the exact same one. it ends with the alpine TP stepping in and confiscating the worm. the worm somehow gets acquired by mclaren.

yuki tsunoda: he keeps you in a box that is structurally very questionable but yuki somehow finds time on the road to get you the highest quality worm feed and vegetables. you thrive under his gourmand care although he shakes the box way too hard sometimes

daniel ricciardo: changes you immediately for a caterpillar and hopes nobody notices. the caterpillar takes ages to turn into a butterfly and then people are asking bro i thought you got a worm. he gets a caterpillar tattoo.

sergio perez: couldn’t care less. thought you were roadkill stuck on his windshield and squishes you with the windscreen wiper by accident

logan sargeant: WHAT DA FUK IS A WORMMMMM? your worm life ends prematurely when logan accidentally drops your box on the floor. james vowles gets him a new worm and it remains to be seen whether the second worm is better (hopefully it is).

[wolf-tail]

Yeah yeah, lazy mascot horror based on a "ooh kids thing scary" concept is really turning indie horror games to sludge, but the original concept can work if done with some care and effort.

To make mascot horror work, you need a couple things, nostalgia and a pre-existing fear.

The nostalgia part scares you by taking something, usually from your childhood, that you associate with saftey and comfort, then making it at least feel dangerous to you. This feeling, of something safe being taken away, upsets certain survival instincts and puts you in aplace of deep fear. Not mascot horror, but Coraline does this with the idea of your own parents, or at least imitations of them, no longer being safe, which is why we were so scared of it.

The second part, pre-exisying fear, especially from childhood, takes something that might be irrational at first, and validates it, at least in the context of the game. Always been scared of clowns? Well now Chuckles McFuck is gonna get you! (IT).

Put these concepts together and you got yourself some decent mascot horror.

FNAF worked, at least initially, because it played on these 2 emotions. Pizzeria arcades are places lots of people find nostalgic and comforting, but those animatronic mascots were always creepy. My mom grew up in the 90s and said that some kids couldn't even walk into a Chuck E Cheese's without crying.

Another example of millennial horror is Tattletail, where you literally play as a child in your family home during Christmastime, but your parents are nowhere to be found and you're being tormented by characters based on Furbies and Teddy Ruxpin, two toys that had 90s kids pissing themselves.

Amanda the Adventurer works because she's an expy of Dora the Explorer (she was a cartoon staple back in the day, but the way she talked directly to you was kinda creepy, huh?)

Garten of Banban had a bit of nostalgia potential (kindergarten and daycare) but squandered it by bad, lazy, money-hungry execution.

Hello Neighbor was just Youtuber bait when it tried to be horror.

Steamboat Willie could work as a horror concept, but someone already sorta did that, and did it better (Bendy and the Ink Machine)

[thr0wnawayy]

Who would the 10-13 1A members that died in the MLA be, if MHA had any actual stakes? I really liked your Kaminari idea, so I just wanted to explore it with you. It would have realistically made UA/the heroes look a hell of a lot worse and the villains look a hell of a lot smarter if they went for the angle of "the best heroics school in Japan is using child soldiers!"

I know for the heroes, it should have been Pixie Bob and Gran Torino in addition to Crust. Endeavor also should have died because it would have actually given the story actual stakes - Japan is now in shambles and the new #1 hero/heavy hitter is dead. Oh shit, what are they going to do?

Firstly I feel I should clarify that both 1A and B would lose some team members as both classes were thrust into war with basically no real training. Although for the sake of plot 1A would lose vastly more.

With that stated, let us begin.

I know for a fact that Koda is dead.

Truthfully, there is no way someone as bulky as him (with the addition of his poorly designed costume) would be even marginally capable of outrunning Shigaraki's Decay.

His quirk (Anivoice) gives him zero advantages and being in Jaku (a city under evacuation) would only add to this.

We also mustn't forget that the rubble by itself was also capable of disintegrating anything it touched. Putting all that together and given how close he was to "ground zero", his chances of survival are slim to none.

Additionally, everyone who found Midnight's corpse is either dead or brutally injured.

Midnight's body is isolated in a decently foliage heavy area, with plenty of hiding spots and vantage points making it all too easy to set an ambush.

Our merry band of MLA/PLF mercenaries simply have to bide their time, wait for the shock and horror to settle in and then strike.

Sero, Kirishima and Setsuna are easy targets (with Setsuna being the farthest from the bait) their backs are turned and mentally are either distant or "vacant".

If Momo didn't recover from her grief and get off the floor, it's game over.

However. She would likely manage to fend them off long enough to escape (thanks to her intelligence and dexterity), although not without some scars. (eyepatch momo, anyone?)

Mina might be able to hold them off due to her acid but will eventually falter because (as you mentioned) Aizawa's a shitheel.

That brings us up to 5 students so far (if we include Kaminari's death) that have died due to UA's (and the HPSC's) crippling negligence.

I'm a tad hesitant to add Tsu here but it's unlikely she'd survive. (even if she does survive the wave, she'd likely die in the crossfire)

Comicman, because yeah he's unimportant.

For the Villa Raid team it's important that we cut some heroes in order for this scenario to work.

Edgeshot is dead, likely fried to death by Electro-lite.

This would cause the raiding heroes to become discouraged and overwhelmed.

the MLA's gear is more than a match and combined with their years of fighting and tactical prowess. It's not even close.

Simply put; divide and conquer.

Mineta's dying for sure. His costume restricts his (torso and leg) movements and makes him standout like a traffic cone. That guy with holes all over his body is likely the one to snuff him out.

Ojiro is dead the moment the MLA members use numbers to overwhelm him, no amount of martial arts will save you from getting jumped.

Mines dies because his quirk (Twin Impact) suffers from the Flect Fallacy.(Overwhelming the quirk will break it). So pretty much any MLA member could be the one to kill him

That sets the score to 11 total student deaths (8 for 1A, 3 for 1B), not a good look.

We know the rest, Dabi kills Enji for good.

Skeptic publishes a video along with Dabi's exposé that reveals UA is using child soldiers and that the HPSC forged paperwork to allow this.

And the crowd goes wild!

The reactions would be brutal, national if not global criticism from every angle.

The entire raid and evacuation effort would be considered an immense failure, the villains remain at large to gather their numbers and most civilians would be left homeless and displaced.

The hero that everybody placed their bets on turned out be a child/wife beating eugenicist who bought (and later assaulted) his wife when she was only 17. Only to be killed off by the very child he left to burn.

The (global) outrage partially stems from the fact that if it weren't for Dabi, no one would have known otherwise .

The number 2 hero is an (attempted) murderer and seems almost irritated at Enji being outed, the world stage takes this the wrong way and opts not to aid Japan.* What pisses them off the most is his uncaring attitude.

Considering them a lost cause when Shigaraki not only breaks everyone out of Tartarus but also manges to kill AFO by sheer force of will (and wanting to see his friends live as they please)

Rei's speech/conference serves as the final nail. Going into immense detail of the pain she and her children suffered at the hands of Enji. (If their were any doubts Touya was her son, they were killed here)

When asked if anyone knew, she finishes her speech off with revealing that some heroes and staff knew about the abuse and chose to look the other way. Causing the room to burst into an uproar.

*(explaining why Japan was allowed to fester for as long as it did without intervention, something Hori failed to explain)

Parents begin pulling out their children in droves, not wanting to risk their kids getting drafted, others quit by choice.

Shiketsu and Ketsubutsu don't put their students on the front lines (they aren't stupid). The commission is unable to force them due to their, "unique" situation.

The heroes that quit are harshly criticized by the public and media (and usually fairly too), pointing out how shitty it looks (and is) for heroes to suddenly abandon them as soon as things get serious.

Class 1A is left to pickup the pieces with 8 classmates killed (+ Bakugo) the events of the last week have shocked them to their cores but perhaps there is hope.

Of course they're left to pick up their predecessors mistakes, again.

Midoriya would still go rouge, albiet he would stick to his principals. He's made a disturbing connection between Bakugo and Endeavor and it haunts him.

(I should add that Bakugo's death is portrayed for the selfish play it was)

Midoriya likely driven by the need to ensure that he doesn't lose anyone else. His anger at AM would probably stem from the fact that he is putting himself in danger for someone as "expendable" as himself.

I could see the two having a heart to heart that Midoriya is more than his quirk once he willingly returns.

Some additional information:

Bakugo dies permanently, because Edgeshot was killed by "Electro" earlier (even then I'm not doing the writing atrocity that is the "Jeart".)

For heroes I'd like to add Jeanist to the roster. Gigantomachia should have swatted him and his airship like a fly. This means the top 3 are dead, adding to the chaos. This also prevents the old-gen from taking up space.

The High-End Nomu beat the tar out of Miriko, leaving crippled at best and a paraplegic at worst. (That is assuming they don't kill her).

Fourth Kind is killed when, like Ojiro, he is overwhelmed.

Your absolutely correct, Gran Torino and Pixiebob are eliminated, joining Crust.

Twice actually lives, though I would keep that ambiguous until later, he wouldn't get out unscathed of course and would probably need to be put into a coma while his injuries heal.

Himiko's revenge plot now has additional stakes as she promises Twice that she will return to him. (before he's medically put under)

This also fuels the PLF + Spinner, vowing to do right by their ally and friend.

Dabi would have disfigured Hawks upon discovery of his attempt on Twice's life, no more cosmetic scars. Just good old fashioned brutality.

(The fear of losing Twice may have dug up the past memory of losing his mother after Enji drove her to the brink. As Dabi cares deeply for both [even if he won't admit it] ontop of the fact that it's a "hero" that's trying to take them and he betrayed them).

Overall this world is going to be one wild ride with a very different ending to what Hori gave us.

It is a story not of heroes and villains, but of ideals and goals. It asks the question:

What is it to save?

A few additional notes:

Momo would likely have a revenge arc as a sort of parallel between Izuku and Himiko. However it wouldn't be as bland as what we got in canon with Mina.

The mercenaries aren't mustache twirling supremacists, no. Here they're cold, calculated soldiers who are strictly tactical. Midnight was "nothing personal, just business" to them.

They serve as a dark mirror to Momo's shift in personality during the war, as Momo reverts to her initial cold confidant personality and kicks it up to 20 as she hunts them down.

Midnight's killer even points out midbattle on how Momo was sexualized and she doesn't even know it. Telling her at one point: "You may see them as an equal, they see you as a display"

The battle isnt treated as a victory either, while the Momo and her squadron win, the gravity of the situation isn't ignored and Momo actually listens to her opponent's critique.

[falling-star-cygnus]

y'all were so sweet about Duckie Deer!! im like- crying, im so happy y'all liked it :D

without further ~ado~ here's pt.2!

{His chest hurt.}

{Alastor would never admit it, how the constant tug kept a persistent ache all the way to the back of his throat. He couldn't afford to be seen as anything less then what he's portrayed himself as to his friends the rest of the hotel's residents}

{The Radio Demon was not weak.}

{Unfortunately, Alastor's embarrassing little tumble into the micro King of Hell's staff had aggravated the gash an... unprecedented amount. He needed to retreat, lick his wounds before making his daily appearance.}

{His new rubber duck stared him down from it's perch above his fireplace. It's gaze was... eerily judgmental for an inanimate toy}

{Alastor turned the thing around}

{Clearing his throat, and maybe feeling a bit silly at his actions, the Radio Demon takes care of his hinderance as quickly and effectively as he can. Which was... less effective then he'd prefer. But there's little to be done about holy injuries.}

{He snaps his fingers to get his attire back into place as a somewhat hesitant knock fills the once trembling air}

{Perfect timing, Alastor thinks. He expects it to be Charlie on the other side, or maybe Husker given the reluctant tapping on the wood. He should really apologize to that cat}

{He's not expecting it to be Lucifer}

"Well, this is a surprise! To what do I owe the pleasure of having the shortest king in Hell at my doorway?"

{Predictably, Lucifer rises to the bait without fail. His angry sputtering is hilarious in his own right, and a welcome distraction to the pinch in the deer's side}

"I will have you know I am a decent height. You are just abnormally tall!"

{Alastor blinks slowly, tilting his head in that condescending way that he knows to irritate even the most level headed of sinners. Now if only he could find a way to prevent his ears from canting with it. Infernal things.}

"Of course, your highness-" "Lucifer." "Yo- hm?"

{The Radio Demon's sarcastic quip dies before reaching fruition, caught off guard by the sudden interruption}

"Talking in the third person now, your royal shortness?" "You just can't help yourself, can you?"

{Alastor's sardonic grin is enough of an answer}

"Ugh- No. Just call me Lucifer. It feels weird having one of Charlie's friends call me by my title."

{Friends. There's that word again. Alastor doesn't do friends, he refuses to lower himself to that standard. It doesn't matter that he nearly died for them. That he might still die for them, if he can't sort his current hinderance out. It doesn't matter that he might find their presence enjoyable entertaining from time to time. It doesn't matter that he'd do it again}

{His stay at this hotel is far from permanent.}

"Alastor?" "Yes, your majesty?"

{The wendigo snaps back to the conversation, barely aware of how deeply he had sunk into his own head. Lucifer's face twitches with annoyance}

{Good, Alastor thinks. This conversation was dredging somewhere far too vulnerable}

"Stubborn ass- hey, why's your duck turned around?"

{The sudden shift in the conversation nearly gives Alastor whiplash, leaving Lucifer an opening to bully his way inside the room. Not like it took much of it, all things considered, the wendigo had flinched away from his probing hands like a doe at footsteps}

{His bite-sized majesty examines the red and black duck, looking confused at why the little thing was facing the wall; either blissfully ignorant or thankfully unwilling to acknowledge how he got in. Alastor's ears pin back before he can stop them}

"It was looking at me weird."

{He hadn't meant to say that.}

{Lucifer stares at him blankly for what feels like hours. The deer braces himself for whatever insult the king will throw at him with the ammo he had just carelessly provided}

"You feel it too!?"

{What.}

"Like- they're so judgmental looking for having such happy faces!"

{The red duck is hardly happy looking in the first place! At least to Alastor. More… akin to cheerfully mournful}

“I didn’t do anything to it. If that’s what you were thinking-”

{Wrong thing to say, Lucifer winces and cuts himself off. The screech of feedback only further proves that he had planted seeds of paranoia in the already skittish Radio Demon. Fast blooming seeds}

{Damnit}

“What did you say?” “Ok- ok, i shouldn’t have said that- But really it’s just a normal rubber duck-! That switches hands! You liked that part, remember?”

{Maybe if he talks fast enough he can smooth this over before Alastor lashes out}

{He really should’ve known better}

{Lucifer lets Alastor prowl closer and snatch the duck from his hands. Close but not touching. His smile is fraught, held up by mere threads that Lucifer can’t see}

“Really, your highness? Resorting to monitoring me. And here I nearly took your ‘gift’ as a gesture of good will. My mistake.” “It was a gesture of good will!”

{Alastor scoffs in disbelief, his voice heavily distorted by radio transmissions as his red sclera turns black}

{The poor rubber duck wheezes pitifully under the force of the wendigo’s slowly crushing grip. Oddly enough, it seems to capture the Radio Demon’s full attention. His grip on the little thing softens, a conflicted expression flitting over his face as the duck returns to its normal shape}

{Lucifer feels emboldened when he realizes why, near giddy if he was being completely transparent. He grabs both of the deer’s lower arms, ignoring the screech of static}

“I swear on Charlie, it’s just a normal rubber duck.”

{Alastor falters, ears twitching back as he subconsciously wrests for control of them. Lucifer would never bet his precious daughter if he wasn’t being completely honest about this and they both know it}

“…That switches hands.”

{The royal armrest beams at the response. Alastor immediately regrets giving him an out. It does get Lucifer to let go of his arms, though, so- small heh victories.}

“Exactly, I knew you liked that part!”

{The wendigo rolls his eyes fondly. Things seem blurry as he fixes the little thing back into its place, properly surveying the room this time. His blinks feel sticky, like something was forcing the deer out of his head. Vaguely, he can make out Lucifer's jumbled words}

"Alastor?"

{Get a grip, Alastor scolds himself. His breaths feel like they're coming in through a whistle. They squeak like it too, much to his horror}

{The Radio Demon's knee buckles}

"Alastor!"

{A cool, smooth hand blocks his head from hitting the corner of his shelf. It's almost disturbing how quickly the deer loses his dignity and falls into it}

{One little stumble, a single trip in the carefully crafted pace he had set for himself and his whole visage crumbled. In front of the king of hell no less!}

{Still... Alastor can't help but feel a little grateful that it's not Charlie. For some reason, worrying the princess makes the ache in his chest seem small in comparison}

{The deer demon comes to laid up in his bed, coat missing. Panic builds up in throat; what happened? Why was he partially undressed? He was talking with the king of hell and then... and then what?}

{Alastor feels- ugh feels- strangely nothing as he pushes himself up. No tightening, no pinch in his throat, no... pain?}

{His comforter slips down to pool around his waist, the heady panic he had been trying to stave off reaching a fever pitch as he realizes his shirt is unbuttoned. All his scars on display}

{Except... fresh, clean bandages hug his exposed torso; they obscure anything that might be even slightly revealing and that... eases the wendigo somewhat. He's not in pain, he's covered, he's safe}

"You're awake!"

{Lucifer doesn't recall there being a turntable in the room. And then he realizes the record scratch came from the Radio Demon}

"Wow, you really make... just a bunch of weird sounds, don't you?" "Why, whatever do you mean?"

{Deflect, deflect, deflect-}

"Are we really going to pretend like you didn't just nearly die right now? I was- Charlie could've gotten worried, you know!"

{Alastor's ears pin back, warning static beginning to fill the room as the shadows thrash on the walls}

"She doesn't know, of course. I figured you wouldn't... appreciate that. It was the least I could do after-" "What do you want." "Pardon?"

{The deer glares at Lucifer. His smile aches and pulls at the corners uncomfortably. Shoving himself to his feet- hooves, his boots have been removed- Alastor leans down to Lucifer's level}

"Do you really think me so naïve as to believe you did this for no other reason then the peace of mind of your child? What. Do. You. Want-"

{He barely jerks back fast enough to avoid the white duck thrust at his nose. It's a little rendition of the king himself, complete with a top hat and six little pairs of wings. The wendigo blinks}

"Am I a storage unit to you?" "Do you want the duck to stop looking judgmental?"

{Alastor puts the duck on his shelf}

{Embarrassingly, he only then thinks to fix his improper state of dress. With a snap, the Radio Demon clears his throat}

"If that is all, neither of us will speak of this-"

{Lucifer acts on instinct, catching the suddenly fatigued deer with a hand around his waist. And then he promptly bluescreens.}

{One. hand. One hand! Around the whole thing! He knew Alastor was somewhat emaciated just from when he was fixing the holy wound on his chest- seriously, why did he keep that a secret, but this was whole other ballpark!}

"Uh... we gotta stop parting ways like this." "I completely agree."

{The deer melts into shadows again, but unlike last time doesn't reappear anywhere in the room. Lucifer can't help the twinge of worry annoyance that sparks up in his chest}

{Seriously, he had just warned that guy that using his power so soon would- ooh.}

{He didn't mention that part, did he?}

[bokettochild]

for semi conscious how about wind and legend?

i just like giving suggestions ^^

I love getting suggestions!

This one was fun to write, so thanks for the request! I never get to write Legend and Wind bonding or hanging out very much, but I love their dynamic so much!

Rating: Teen

Wordcount: 7,385

Summary: The Chain experiences the delight of dungeons, which of cours ehvae Warriors in shock and wonder, Legend running about like a giddy school girl, and Twilight and Wild acting like the gremlins they really are. Well, that is, until they get split up by a particularly challenging room, leaving Wind and Legend to fend for themselves until the rest can find them, but it's fine! Legend's an expert and Wind's no rookie either! They got this!

-

Puzzles, by nature, attract heroes like bait. 

Wind was never particularly keen on them before starting his adventures, but in the midst of all of the sailing and fighting and worrying, they’d become something of a balm; forcing his attention to focus fully on what was directly before him, on things that had logical answers that were achievable with just a little work, and results that granted a little piece of satisfaction that most other things in his life at the time didn’t. Logic, reliability, and visible results for given efforts, yet still with the thrill of a challenge, of just enough struggle to keep him at it until he’s done, determined not to fail, it’s nice. 

With two adventures under his belt, Wind’s solved and enjoyed his fair share of puzzles. With more adventures than he’s willing to let on, it’s little wonder that Legend seems to show a similar fondness for puzzles too. What had been a tired scowl had quickly faded from the older boy’s face the moment they’d found the hidden entrance to what Hyrule had quickly announced was a dungeon, and the vet’s eyes were glinting eagerly as he’d pushed to the front of the group to get a good look at what they had before them. Now inside, even Wind and Time, who both have more experience than most of the others, are left more than just slightly impressed as the vet quickly solves the various puzzles and riddles within the sprawling chambers.  

If farm life shows them Time’s natural home, and sailing brings out his own, then dungeons definitely are the natural environment of their collector and scholar. Wind doesn’t think he’s seen the vet’s eyes shining nearly this bright ever before in all the time they’ve known him! It’s pretty cool to watch actually. 

He’s a decent hand at puzzles, and even though Legend’s a whizz at them, even the vet still gets stumped or second guesses himself here and again, which allows him to offer his own suggestions and try things. At first, the others had tried to tackle it themselves as well, but by now, they’ve given up offering their opinions, letting their brother take the lead with bemused smiles as they hang back with the captain and champion, who regard everything about them as though seeing it for the first time. He can’t speak for Wild, but the sailor knows that Warriors has only ever been in the prison sort of dungeon before, and this is definitely his first time seeing most of the mechanics of these places, and the threats that they conceal. It’s kind of funny really! Legend’s darting all over the place like a particularly eager piglet and Warriors is just gaping at it all, at how it works, and he doesn’t think Twilight is ever going to stop laughing and chuckling at the shock and awe on the face of their brother as he discovers for the first time what most of them simply consider part of life. It reminds him of when he first started teaching Aryll how to fish and make things, but funnier because Warriors is old enough to be teaching children of his own. 

“You might want to close that maw of yers,” Twilight nudges the captain as the vet starts moving towards the next chamber, “a keese might mistake it fer a cave.” 

Where usually the other would roll his eyes, shove the rancher back, shake his head, or just scoff at the mockery, Warriors doesn’t even seem to notice, instead still staring at the carefully arranged statues in the room. There hadn’t even been a guide or a riddle, just a room of statues. He’s not sure how Legend knew to move them here, there, and the other way, but the moment the vet had stood back, dusting himself off and wiping away sweat with a wide grin, the walls had trembled, and the ground shook and the stones of the north wall had fallen away to reveal another opening. “How on earth does it do that?” 

“Do what?” Hyrule asks. He’s been keeping close to the captain as of late for some reason or another. 

Warriors nods to the door, the one Legend’s already darting through. “Does it repair itself later? And how does it make that particular part of the wall fall away without jeopardizing the entire structure?” 

He’s not sure himself. Wind’s never really wondered before. Once the puzzle is solved, he doesn’t tend to think about it again later, just what comes after and maybe taking a nap or eating something. The others seem to have some ideas though, and a few of them move to answer, only to be interrupted by Four. 

“Puzzle gods.” 

He turns to stare at the smithy. “What?” 

“I believe,” Four pronounces, stopping to look at them all, “that there must be some sort of deity or spirit that goes around building places like this, just for the sheer joy of seeing little mortals like us try to solve them.” Four kindly ignores the pointed remarks and chuckles that follow his adjective choices, which Wind thinks is rather grand of him because he certainly wouldn’t. “Every hundred years, some hero type or daredevil comes through, solves the puzzles and wins the prize, but then it all gets sealed up again and there’s another prize the next time someone comes through.” A shrug of the shoulders signals the decision to start moving again. “It really is the only explanation.” 

He’s being silly, Wind thinks. Fac-facetious? Is that what Legend calls it? Anyway, Four’s messing with them, messing with Warriors, and its beautiful watching realization dawn on the captain’s face only to be quickly replaced by a sharp little smile and a headshake that’s half warning, half repressed laughter. Time used to get that one all the time when they were kids. “You ass.” 

“Our ass is currently up ahead.” Four retorts, smirking over his shoulder. 

“Your ass is currently getting his ass whooped!” Legend’s voice yells from the doorway they’ve yet to cross. “Get in here!” 

They hurry, but there’s no panic. Legend is short-spoken when he’s actually worried, and the clear humor in his tone was obvious enough that they know not to worry too much. They don’t need to anyway, it turns out. Legend’s foes are a bunch of chu-chus and like-likes, which are annoying, yes, but hardly worse than an annoyance all said and done. Once they can clearly see the door on the other side of the room, Wild tells them to book it across, a glowing bomb lifted high and attracting the monster population’s attention long enough for them to obediently book it. Wild joins them on the other side a moment later with a sharp grin as he taps his slate, spinning to catch the glow of the blast. His eyes shine like lanterns.  

“Sick,” Wind laughs. 

Legend, leaning against the wall next to him, stares. “What does that even mean?” 

“Who knows,” the captain sighs, long since having given up decoding the slang that some of them use, (probably because he knows full well how quickly he’ll get hooked once he knows what he’s saying), “kids these days say weird shit.” 

Their leader smirks. With only one eye, it’s hard to tell where Time’s looking, but it’s over the heads of Wind and Four, so it’s not at them. “I believe it’s similar to ‘groovy’.” 

Wind has no clue what ‘groovy’ means. Legend and Hyrule, on the other hand, nod sagaciously, exchanging a brief look of understanding. 

“Groovy,” The vet snorts. 

“Groovy,” Hyrule answers back, grin wide. 

“Good grief,” Warriors declares, sweeping past them with barely disguised laughter. 

There’s some varied laughter and jostling of each other as they set out again. The room they’ve darted into holds very little, just a chest with a key and some dark inky looking blobs that the vet warns them to avoid, only to step on himself. It’s because his magical boots protect him, he says, but Wind sort of doubts that; he thinks maybe Legend just likes stepping on monsters sometimes. He can’t blame him, considering how fun he finds it to watch enemies be plowed over by Tetra’s ship, be he in it or not, so he doesn’t exactly have room to speak here. 

They move on from the key room, back into the chu room, which is now void of anything save some wobbly chunks that Sky screws up his face at the sight of and Twilight and Wild gather up as though they don’t stick to their fingers. The sailor follows Legend as he moves to the locked door on one side of the room, well aware of the fact that once the chu jelly is gathered, Twilight and Wild will be looking for something to wipe their hands on, and if it doesn’t end up being the captain’s scarf, it will be one of the rest of them.  

Warriors knows too, and is already bundling up his scarf, Warning Glare already activated.  

Four’s hood is very much in danger now (everyone respects the sailcloth too much and Hyrule gets snappish when touched unexpectedly). 

Avoiding the issue entirely is in his best interest, and the vet seems to think the same, sniggering a bit into his hand as he steals a look back at the rest of them, who stand about like sitting ducks, as though unaware they can now actually escape gooey hands and wolfish grins. “Who’s getting gooed, d’y’think?” The vet whispers to him, violet eyes sparking as he pauses just inside the wide arch of the door, but not yet into the other room. Somehow, apparently, that stops monsters being able to reach him, although how, the sailor has still yet to figure out. 

He shrugs back, risking a glance just as the two finish their messy work. “Don’t now, but I sure as stone don’t want it to be me!” 

Like silly toddlers, they’re fighting back laughter, ducking out of sight as Twilight springs towards the group, Wild on his heels. Getting out before someone notices them watching is the best way to avoid getting caught in the crossfire or being selected as a far less dangerous target. Good as they may be in battle, Twilight is still stronger than either of them, and Wild is scary fast; there’s no avoiding getting slimed once those two have chosen you as their target. Not even Legend’s Death Kicks or a spell would be enough to dissuade Twilight once his mind is set on being the worst big brother in the world.  

It’s a big sibling thing. 

Instead, they hide away, Legend pressing a finger to his lips and Wind nodding as they listen to the shouts of the others, exchanging a look and a silent laugh before the vet turns to look through the other side of the doorway. When he does, his smile falls. “Shit.” 

Not a good thing to hear, especially since Legend’s been rather in a good mood all afternoon because of finding the dungeon. He stares at the other for a moment before daring to glance out into the next room. “What?” There doesn’t seem to be any monsters within sight, although it is pretty dark ahead. That said, other than the fact that he can’t see much of anything, it doesn’t look nearly as bad as the water filled chamber at the entrance of the dungeon, the room where various aquatic monsters lurked, and they’d been swimming and fighting in the dark. It wasn’t awful, but it wasn’t nearly as fun as the puzzles, not by a long shot. 

“Look at the floor,” the vet sighs, slumping a bit. 

Wind looks. “There isn’t much of one.” 

A nod. “Yeah. A thin path with precious few safe spaces, lighting that goes out within a few minutes, and, of course, the floor disappears as you walk on it.” 

Of all the things Legend’s showed them in the dungeon, this is definitely moving to the top of his list of things he doesn’t like in land-dungeons. His own are odd in their own ways, but rapidly disappearing flooring is not preferable. “What do we do?” Because asking Legend is always the best option with dungeons, or so he’s finding. Warriors is the battle master, Time the most lived, Hyrule and Wild best with travel, but Legend is definitely the one you ask when it comes to anything unnatural or excessively confusing. Dungeons, magic, and history are the vet’s expertise, and if the vet doesn’t know it, it’s probably not worth knowing anyhow. 

The older boy scrubs at his face with his hands. “Run.” 

“From what?” The others have joined them again. 

“The floor.” 

“The what?” 

“The floor,” Legend repeats, motioning out into the room before them. “It’s going to drop out from underneath you as you run across it. We won’t be able to make it in one go, just two at a time until we’re all across.” 

“I can’t see,” Sky isn’t pouting, but he looks very aggravated. There’s slime in his hair. “How do we know where to go?” 

The vet shrugs. “We guess.” 

There’s a pause, and then, “What? You have tips and tricks for everything else, but when the floor falls out from underneath you, you just guess where to run?” 

Violet eyes glint, a snort and half-smile appearing again. “Got a better idea?” 

“We’ll live,” Hyrule is the one speaking now, pushing past the others to look out into the new room. “I think these things usually respawn after ten minutes or so. So even if we take a wrong turn, we can go back, it just...” 

“It takes a bit,” Legend finishes, snatching his cap off to ruffle at his hair in agitation. “And longer if you don’t have a hook-shot ready. If you drop, you’re probably going to fall back to the first room.” 

“How?” Warriors doesn’t sound bemused anymore, just confused. 

He hears Four snort more than he sees it, what with the smallest being at the back probably due to hiding behind Time. “Puzzle gods.” 

The comment goes ignored, and any serious answer to the captain’s question never comes. Instead, the vet sets out onto the temporary path, striking ahead like he tends to in unfamiliar territory, and simply by virtue of already being there, Wind is the first to follow. He’s not sure if he likes it or not that the captain, who’s behind him, doesn’t follow immediately. Not having his back guarded all of a sudden isn’t very pleasant, but the path does, indeed, start falling away not long after their feet leave it behind. 

Legend darts. Wind follows.  

Corners are tricky, and the vet seems to cut them altogether if he can, sprinting along while casting fireballs out into the darkness, just long enough to show the way before they dissipate. It would be easier to light a lantern, but it’d leave one hand busy, and neither of them can risk that, not without backup as they dance out into the darkness. There really is no rhyme or reason to their path, just wherever they can manage, and when the sprint is starting to get to him (he’s a sailor, not a landlubber, he doesn’t run much), they finally pull off to a small floating island in the middle of the room, and though the path falls away before them, they're left stable. 

The vet heaves a breath, flames licking off his fingers to fill a sconce set on the little isle of stone. “Well, having fun yet?” 

He just groans in answer, earning a snort and a hair ruffle in return. 

“Come now, Maliit, where’s your sense of adventure?” 

“Above ground?” He tries, smiling through now very messy hair; whatever damage running did is now made so much worse by bejeweled hands. “Maybe with Hyrule, I think he stole it.” 

His answer is a scoff as Legend darts his own hair out of his eyes, nose wiggling some with silent laughter as he shakes his head, much like Warriors usually would. Their traveler’s light fingers are no secret, unlike the captain’s. Hyrule’s propensity to pluck things from their possession without their knowledge, especially when he’s mad at them, is something of a joke by now, and watching Time returning the favor is hilarious as they battle it out until the captain will force them to stop. Warriors, in contrast, rarely employs his own skills, but there have been times, and he’s good. 

It’s unlikely that either can actually steal an aspect of someone’s personality though. Still, Wind knows better than to presume; for all he knows, maybe there is such a magic that one of them have!  

The vet doesn’t push the matter though, just cracks his back and rolls his shoulders a bit, staring into the area around them, occasionally letting off a flame into the darkness, peering and squinting to try and see a path. Wind would do the same, but he’s only of use for that sort of thing above ground. Sailing, he can spot land faster than most of the older pirates, but in caves? Tunnels? He’s no good to anyone when it comes to seeing. Legend says that that’s to be expected though. Apparently, his timeline has evolved so hylians have much better dark-vision and hearing, something Hyrule and he display quite clearly. Twilight is the same, but they think that’s part of the whole wolf-deal, since the rest of his era doesn’t have the same blessings. Anyways, Wind doesn’t have them, so he sits and catches his breath and watches the vet until at last the other turns and offers him a hand. 

“Path is back.” 

“Here we go again,” he sighs, smiling up at where the vet’s eyes glint in the already dying firelight.  

Legend waits until the flame in the sconce dies, which as he warned, happens quickly. It’s lighted again quickly with a snap of the fingers, and then they’re off again, darting down the path that collapses even out from beneath them as they move. 

Somewhere, out in the darkness, he hears shouting, hears what sounds like Warriors, or probably Sky with how loud it is. 

He waits until they reach another stopping point, flames licking life across the vet’s features before his face, before he asks a thought that’s suddenly come to him. “You think Sky can handle all this running?” 

There’s a snort in answer, a tremble of the shoulders in a laugh that isn’t set free but plays in eyes that flicker red in the firelight. “He’s fast, even if his stamina is shit. I think he’ll live. At worst, Twilight can just carry him around.” The image is sort of ridiculous, and it makes him laugh. A knee-slapping, shoulder shaking laugh that echoes back in a wiggling nose and creasing eyes as barely contained cackles tremble through his brother. 

- 

They make it through the dark room eventually. The sounds that ring and echo through the darkness have Legend despairing that the others will be along at any time soon but considering he’s the one doing all the puzzle solving anyways, he apparently decides there’s no reason to wait up. Instead, when they reach the ledge at the end, one that has a door and a passage onwards, he sets a lantern in the doorway, lit and capable of holding his flames longer than the little beacons they’d run across on the path. Beside it, he settles his blue cap, a quickly written ‘catch up already’ scrawled on a note he pins to the soft fabric. 

“They’ll know we went this way when they see it.” He tells Wind, and the sailor nods back. It’s a good plan. A lantern could be a sign of a new puzzle. Legend's lantern, Legend’s hat, are a way to say that Legend is here, that he’s ahead, but didn’t have the patience to wait for the rest, something which Wind quite agrees with. 

As before, Legend pauses in the doorway to the next room, staring out into the new chamber and assessing its contents before he ventures forwards. He’s done that with most of the rooms in this dungeon so far, the only exception being the key room, where they were too eager to escape Wild’s bombs to care about what stood on the other side. Wind’s sort of glad they’ve stopped too, because inside the room, wispy figures appear and disappear without any rhyme or reason, waves of magic and piercing screams emitted from their flickering forms just moments after they appear. 

“Wizzrobes,” the vet hums, brow furrowing. “Fought those before?” 

He stares. “y-yes...?” 

Twin red flames, because the vet’s eyes glint red in the darkness, the only clear feature on his face as it’s turned on him, stare into his eyes. “Is that a question or an answer, sailor?” 

“I’ve fought them, but...” he glances back at the ghostly looking figures with wide-brimmed hats, “mine are very...different.” 

“Do they appear and disappear at seemingly random and attack you with magic?” 

“Yes.” 

“Then there’s no real difference,” the vet proclaims. “Just don’t get hit, and strike them after they attack, because there’s not much time before they do. Hit hard, hit fast, and keep light on your feet. You can do that, right?” 

He nods. He can. He's a sailor, he’s good at darting around and avoiding random things trying to hit him. Ust because these wizzrobes don’t look like tropical birds in long robes doesn’t mean they’ll be any harder to fight! Although, it is going to be weird to try and connect what he knows about the enemies to his experiences with their counterparts in his era. Still, he can do this. 

“One more thing,” Legend adds, shield lifted and sword ready, “the doorway is an option. If you need a breath, cover, or a moment to assess your foe, don’t be afraid to lurk in doorways. They’re life savers.” 

“Got it.” 

And just like that, they set upon the enemy. Legend really does dance across the room as he works. Darting and spinning and plunging through the enemies. Avoiding this blow and that, even as the five different foes all try and take aim at him. It’s like he can predict where they’ll appear, and it’s like he’s waiting for them when they do, sword flashing in the light of the enemy magic as he dispatches them. 

Wind holds his own rather well, he thinks, downing two of the five. Again, the vet has been doing this far longer and knows much more than he does, but he’s not a beginner himself either. They make it through the room with nothing more than a little damage; a little curse that Legend plucks off of them and dissipates with a glinting of golden magic and a disgusted expression that has the sailor sniggering to himself. “Wish I could do that.” 

“It’s exhausting,” comes the answer, “I’m going to sleep like a log once we get out of here.” 

He has been using rather a lot of magic, what with the fireballs and everything. Does he run out eventually, or will they be alright to keep going? “Do you need a green potion?” 

“I need a nap,” Legend snorts. “Although yes, if you have one, that would be nice too.” 

He does, but only for a moment or so more, because it’s gone the moment it’s in the scholar’s hands. Bottle carefully tucked away to give back to Wild to be refilled at a later date. “Thanks.” 

“Of course.” He might not be able to use much magic, beyond the Wind Waker, but that doesn’t stop him carrying magic potions for his brothers. Wild had laughed a bit when he’d asked the older boy to teach him to brew them, and while he’s not very good at it and actually needs Wild to do most of the work, he does make an effort to have most potion types on him at all times. He doesn’t need anything for heat or sun, doesn’t have much magic and rarely uses strength, stamina, or defense potions, but the others need them, so he wants to have them on hand. Sky needs stamina potions and never has them. Hyrule and Time frequently exhaust their magic, and goodness knows all of them are constantly downing health potions after battles or skirmishes with various foes. He'd done the same thing during the war, and Midna had taken to calling him “Bottle Boy” as a joke, because when Warriors eventually was on the edge of collapse or someone else needed something, he always had what they needed. She’d say it like it was a mockery at first, but he sort of misses hearing the tease each time he hands one of his brothers the potion they need. Time still says it though, grinning and winking, and even Warriors will repeat it on a rare occasion, relieved and warm and fond. 

Legend doesn’t know about it, but in many ways, the older boy reminds him a bit of that blasted imp, especially with how much he likes to tease and ruffle up Wind’s hair. He wonders if the other two see it as well, or maybe they’ve forgotten. Time probably has, what with how old he’s gotten since then. 

“What now?” he asks, looking around the room at the fallen magic staves and hats. He’s a bit tempted to put one of the hats on, but he’s also got the feeling that that may or may not get him cursed somehow. Legend just removed a minor curse, and he’s not asking for a repeat because he’s being stupid. He'll ask the vet what would happen if he did, but later, once the other doesn’t actually think he will do it, or that he even can. 

The lights have come on now that the enemies have fallen, something Warriors would definitely be gaping at if he was here and puzzling, yet again, on the ‘how’ of it all. With the aid of said light, he can properly see the vet’s dark eyes roving over the room, now violet again as they search for some key or puzzle that will point the way forward. “Not sure yet.” 

It takes a moment, some darting around and looking here and there, but at last the vet finds the way forwards, pushing a large stone block one way to reveal a hole in the floor. 

“Sky’s not going to like this,” he observes, crouching to look down into the darkness below.  

Legend. Leaning against the just moved block, snorts his agreement. “Wars either.” 

He, however, is not scared of the dark, even if he can’t see well in it. Still, he lets the vet take the lead, because quite frankly he doesn’t think Legend ever lets himself follow others into danger, or the unknown. No, he lets Legend go first and then drops down after him, only after they’ve made a very obvious arrow shape on the floor with the magic staves to point towards the hole they’re plunging into. The others do still need to be able to find them eventually, after all! 

Dropping into the hole though, he sort of regrets not waiting for them. 

There is a door in the room, but it’s locked, and there’s no key in sight and the little ring the vet keeps on his belt, apparently expressly for dungeon keys, is currently empty after opening the way to the room with the falling walkways. The one the others may or may not still be stuck inside of at the moment. So, unlike before, there’s no doorway to hide in at the moment, and the very large gleeok that takes up most of the chamber definitely makes that a very big problem. 

“Oh, come on,” Legend doesn’t look worried so much as tired as he lifts his shield, just in time to block them both from the first burst of flames, “seriously? No warning? No boss key? No crazy fancy door? This is just breaking all the laws of dungeon etiquette!” 

“What?” he stammers, unashamedly hiding behind the other as the flames sputter out. 

“Dungeon bosses are always marked, and if this isn’t even the main foe, then I dread to think what the ‘puzzle gods’ decided to put in the boss room. Gleeoks are overkill to begin with!” 

He’s handling this a lot better than Wind was expecting. Like it’s a nuisance rather than an actual threat, which, for the vet, is kind of unusual. Legend always takes things seriously on the battlefield, at least as long as their enemy is something more threatening than a blob with teeth. Gleeoks sort of fall under Wind’s ‘extremely dangerous, do not engage’ list, and he’s rather certain it’s the same all around, except with Sky, who thinks they’re friendly for some reason. 

“Plan?” he asks, already grabbing for his own sword again, and wishing, not for the first time, that he had more spirit power. Stopping time long enough to get some heavy hits on their new foe would be pretty convenient, even if it wouldn’t let Legend help him at all. Still, he can take on foes without the others, so he wouldn’t need the vet’s help, although it’s nice to have; Legend treats him like a competent equal on the battlefield, and other than giving advice on how to take on foes or tricks the other uses himself, he’s mostly left Wind to do his work without interference. It’s nice, and a pleasant change from having the older ones always trying to protect him. 

The vet puffs, mind whirring so loud he can almost hear it. “Kill it? Weakness is probably it’s eyes.” 

“It has three heads.” 

“We each take on one and tag-team the third.” 

“Got it.” 

Uncomplicated but also very vague. Still, Legend’s a scholar, not a tactician. He’s good at killing things and he’s fast on the field, but the vet doesn’t tend to do the strategizing in their group, or the commanding, unless of course the others are losing focus and need someone to remind them that they are, in fact, in the middle of a battle. Even then though, legend’s plans are on the fly and generally rely on them all being actually competent enough to think for themselves on how to do what they’re told. Like now. 

Take down one head, join Legend for the other one. Easy to say, but not nearly as easy to do. 

He wishes gleeoks had a limit on how much fire they could produce at a time. It would make fighting them so much more fair. 

As it is, there’s so much fire in the room it’s sort of hard to make out where, exactly, legend is at any given moment. He keeps having to duck behind his shield too, and dart away as the beast thunders across the floor. Getting close is a nightmare, but once he does, managing to climb up between the two giant wings, he finds himself face to face with his companion again. 

“Long time no see,” Legend smirks, and then springs across the scales to his side, lowering his shield to offer something to him. “Forgot to give you this.” 

He takes it without question, because he rather doubts a prank is incoming considering they're in the midst of a fight, and he’s pleasantly surprised to find a red ring in his possession, one that makes the heat around them a fair bit less painful as he slips it on. Flame protection, he guesses, watching the vet spring along the neck of the beast, the other two heads turning towards him as the tempered blade lifts to take a plunge at one of three giant eyes. 

Well, best cover his brother’s ass! He follows suit, jumping up and climbing the neck of the wriggling beast, catching its attention as well, just as Legend’s sword plunges home, once, twice, and a burst of flames explodes around them. 

It’s hard seeing, smoke overtaking his vision and, again, his eyes aren’t the best in dim spaces, but he plunges where he thinks the head is. 

The gleeok shakes him off before he can be sure of the damage he’s done. He manages to tuck and roll as he hits the ground, and his shield arm takes most of the impact. Pain explodes from his shoulder down, but he’s still able to stand again, sword still in hand as he turns again to face the three great eyes that now fix on him, one of them, and only one, leaking blood profusely. 

Well shit! 

A clawed foot swipes at him, and he has to roll again to get away, shield up and arm screaming. He's probably sprained his wrist or shoulder or something, something that’s going to make this unnecessarily hard, because of course that’s how this works.  

He hears Legend yelling from the other side of the room, but the gleeok doesn’t turn, and a wide sweep of the wings sends the sailor skidding back, feet fighting to stay upright, and shield still raised as the force sends him flying backwards and into the wall. The impact hits after than he was expecting, and his guard falters just a bit under the force of it, leaving him open to the next burst of flames. Sages bless Legend for giving him the ring. He can feel the flicker of flames over his skin, but the effect, while painful, isn’t anything close to what he’d seen the same sort of attack do to the captain so many months ago. His skin bubbles and sleeves burn, but it’s no worse than sticking his hand into a fire for a moment, and the flames die suddenly with a scream from the monster as Legend’s blade must find a home in it’s tail or some such. 

Suddenly, he’s free to breathe again, a doorway of opportunity giving him a moment to muster himself and fight down the pain surging up his arms and across his face. His feet falter some on the floor, even without the force of the wings blowing him back, but he finds his land legs again after a moment, and then he’s headed back into the fray. 

Legend’s hissing insults, shouting things to keep the focus of their foe on himself, and while it definitely does nothing more than agitate the creature, it gives Wind opening to dart along towards the tail now turned to him. 

He doesn’t manage to climb on top, because a head comes rolling down his way, forked tongue still sticking out, and the vet’s shout to “hit the head!” distracts him from joining his brother on top of the thing. He does as ordered though, pouring his pain into a strike that has the thing splashing blood up and over him, one glowing yellow eye fading to grey as he hacks and stabs until the thing stops rolling and bouncing across the floor. 

One head down, two to go. 

Legend’s mounted the monster again, but it’s caught on, and the head he’s not standing on is snapping at him, large teeth closing just short of pink hair as the man darts and dances out of reach, sword plunging up towards the attacking beast, balance somehow unfaltering despite how the creature beneath him bucks and writhes, shaking to try and dismount him but only succeeding in foiling the attempts of the other head as its target is lifted and dropped and sifted out of reach of snapping teeth. 

It’s too much movement to let Wind get ahold of scales or spikes and pull himself up, and even trying sends the harsh texture of the hide scraping over fresh burns, a shout of pain catching in his throat as he immediately pulls his hand back. Instead, he determines to hack away at the sweeting tails and stumbling claws, doing at least some damage until at last the head snapping at the vet turns to him, a snort of ire signaling the shift of attention and giving him enough time to lift his shield and dart back from the next wave of flames. 

The flames die again with another blow to one eye, but the head doesn’t fall. Instead, the spattering blood makes feathered boots slip, and Legend’s shout rings out beside the roar of the gleeok as he plummets to the floor. Like Wind, the vet tucks and rolls, but unlike the sailor, he doesn’t land on his shield arm. 

Legend lands on his head. 

As though he actually has phantom powers, time seems to slow for a moment as he watches the tight all of his brother uncurls, limbs and sword clattering against the floor, violet eyes fluttering briefly. 

“Legend!” 

He’s not sure, exactly, how he manages to climb onto the monster that’s still writhing in pain from the latest blow, but he does. He does and he manages to get himself atop the singular uninjured head, slashing away at the scales by his feet until they give way to flesh and bone, and then finally the head falls away altogether, leaving only the one sightless one instead as the second head plumets down to the floor where Legend is still lying. 

The vet’s trying to move, but a faint cry of pain, bitten off but heart-rending sounds with the motions, and considering how he’d fallen and how heavily, Wind doesn't think it’s likely a good idea at all to let Legend move. 

He jumps. Rolls down the scaly back and popping up again just a short distance away from the head that bounces up again from the force of its fall, black and crimson ichor and blood spattering everywhere with the motion. It takes more effort this time to keep after the head, the eye still glowing in a signal that it can and will return to its body through whatever twisted magic it is that keeps this thing alive. 

He thinks he hates the puzzle gods. 

The head is just beginning its returning path to the body that writhes and snarls with all the force left in its remaining, blinded head, but he manages a blow. It roars and hisses, but a plunge into golden sclera stops that, and a second one, just to be sure, because being certain never hurt anything when fighting monsters, ends the things motions as it dissipates into a cloud of miasma. 

One head remains, flailing around as fire spills from its open maw, filling the room with smoke and flames. 

He wants to look over to Legend, making sure the fire isn’t touching his fallen brother, but he can’t risk taking his focus off the foe. When its head lowers, wings raised as it blasts fire forwards, he springs, rolls out of the way, feet slapping the stone beneath as he darts in while its neck is lowered enough to sever, and with a mighty shout, a shooting pain up his arm and as much force as he can muster, the phantom sword plunged into the scales. 

Flames die with a cry, the beast rearing up, his blade still imbedded in its flesh and his hands holding tightly, feet sweeping off the ground as wings sweep out with a blast. 

He hears another pained cry, a shout of agony as the bet’s body is sent rag-rolling across the floor. 

Oh sages, his spine! You shouldn’t move people who might have hurt their spines!  

The gleeok’s roar of agony matches in pitch to the cry of the fallen hero, and Wind’s own brain is screaming in kind as he wrenches himself upwards, swinging his feet up to mount the final head, blade tugging free only to plunge again, force sending shockwaves up his aching arm and definitely screwing it up more than it had been initially. Wars is going to chew his ear off for this one, he knows it. Still, the head falls free, and again, he manages to roll down the spiney back, across the floor, body sore all over as he darts like a mad thing across the stone to the final head. 

When the last golden eye goes dim, purple smoke rising, his whole body feels like one giant bruise. 

He doesn’t have time for that though. Doesn't even bother to try and clean his sword, something that will earn Four on his ass as well as the captain, but that doesn’t matter nearly as much as hauling ass to the form of the vet who lies on the floor, breath shuddering and hands still somehow gripping ahold of the faintly glowing tempered sword.  

“Legend?” His knees sting as he sinks down onto them, hands hovering as he tries to assess his brother’s injuries without moving him. He shouldn’t move him at all, and much as a red potion would help, it never does anything for broken bones if they’re not set properly first, something he is definitely not qualified to do. They need Warriors. Seven Sages, where are the others? How are they taking this long? “Vet, come on, can you hear me?” 

There’s a puff of breath and a gritting of teeth, but long ears flick, responsive even though no verbal answer comes. 

“Stay with me, Ledge,” he pleads, trying to peer through the soot to see if blood is stemming from anywhere. There's no large puddle of it or anything. Although, like himself, burns do stretch over any exposed skin he can see. “Just stay awake. Wars will be here soon, and we’ll get you all fixed up.” 

“’kay.” It’s more gasp than speech, but it’s an answer. 

He reaches for one of the vet’s bejeweled hands. Moving those, treating the burns at least with the salve he’s carried with him since the captain’s battle with Volga, won’t jostle his brother enough to do more damage than what’s already been done. 

Long fingers squeeze around his own, but he doesn't pull away, just lets the vet grip as tight as he needs as he wipes the ash and dirt away with a cloth wetted with his canteen, cleaning and applying what knowledge he has about burns to treat the injuries before wrapping them. 

He talks as he works. He doesn't know how much Legend’s actually listening, but the vet’s long ears follow him as he talks, twitching occasionally at what he says. There’s the occasional attempt at a smile on cracked lips as he recounts one or another of his adventures with Tetra, and while they're pained, the smiles are undeniable as he talks about Aryll and Granny. 

The others still haven’t joined them by the time Wind’s exhausted his knowledge of wound care and run out of burns to tend, both on the vet and himself. He feels like a jerk, downing a potion to tend his own injuries and not granting one to the other, but he can’t risk having any damage done become permanent from the potion’s magic, so instead he holds Legend’s hand in his own and keeps talking. By nervous habit, he starts toying with pink hair, just like he’d do with Aryll at home when he’s nervous, braiding and unbraiding and stoking silky hair to calm his own mind. Legend doesn’t tell him to stop either, and while the tension and pain that lines his body doesn’t go away, it’s clear that the comfort is appreciated as they wait for the others to join them. 

He checks in every few moments, reminding legend to stay awake, to keep his eyes open. It works for a while, but eventually long lashes flutter closed, despite his every warning and plea, and they don’t open again no matter what he says. The only assurance that the vet isn’t fully unconscious is the flicker of his ears as Wind speaks, so he keeps talking. He keeps his eyes fixed on long ears, and hands soothing silky hair as he rambles about anything and everything he can think of, trying to keep going at least until the others arrive. 

When at last he hears feet overhead, voices echoing down into their chamber, Wind could nearly cry from relief. Based off the tears that streak ash covered cheeks, Legend does. 

[mothboyhalo]

This is from the ./rp arguments that happened last night, how Etolies asked Bad if he trusted anyone on his team to be able to pvp anyone else and win 100%,Bad replying that is depends and calling him a fool if he dose trust his teammates 100%. And I 100% agree with Bad cause like he mentioned they didn’t choose Tubbo for his PvP skills, they chose him for his mind. Like I think it’s hilarious that Bad is seen as such a threat since he has been killing so much (and as etolies pointed out bad only engaging in fights he knows he will win) but Bad knows and acknowledges that he is not the best PvPer when it’s comes down to pure skill (although he excels in bows as far as I can see) there are others he knows best him. From day one he’s said I might have to target those easy to kill . Blues team in its majority greatest skill is their minds.

Tubbo is incredibly smart when it comes to mod packs (he practically lives in them) good at being a moral compass/keeping them in check cause he knows that their only real way of winning is dirty tactics since they are not PvP oriented. Him curing a zombie villager with a witch was so amazing. He’s the one currently setting the trickle of how far his teammates are allowed to go atm.

Tina dedicating her time to farm resources and keeping up moral is so vital with blue going through it since day one in reference to their spawn and finding out their og plan of create was nerfed. Finding out about tea before anyone else and making the best farm???? Making sure miss a niki rivers etc are ok and not discouraged and pointing out how their efforts no Matter how small they may seem are important.

And bad being decent in PvP but his biggest strength is planning ahead, choosing targets and not attacking recklessly, and be willing to pull cheap strategies cause work smarter not harder. He knows his skill and he won’t be baited into a loosing fight. Great at giving team coordination when engaging with highly skilled fighters (the fit, etolies, Tubbo and bad fight) despite not being in private comms.

I love them cause blue are tryhards but they know their limits and actively see what they have to do to keep up with everyone else.

[tainbocuailnge]

10-11 adverse using only free operators

you get one copy of lancet-2 for completing TR-10 and one copy of texas for completing all the pinboard missions so I consider them free in that they're available to all players regardless of headhunting or recruitment luck. lancet's potentials only increase the instant heal on deployment so that doesn't affect this strategy, and to compensate for my texas being max pot I deployed everyone 2 DP later

more detailed strategy discussion:

the biggest issue for this map is that the free operator roster doesn't have a lot of aoe burst damage so it's easy to get overwhelmed. the chain casters aren't that bad to deal with on their own but the swordguys deal so much fucking damage with not a lot of options to get rid of them fast when they're always surrounded by a bunch of trash. if you have like eyja or chalter or silverash or something this all gets a lot easier because you can just kill those clowns

highmore is crucial for the consistent aoe damage and also has the bonus of not needing a healer on her which lets me place honeyberry like that. as a bard heidi is able to heal highmore and since it's a shatterpoint map heidi also has a cracked as hell skill aura that lets me pull off the switcharoo at the bottom around the 4 minute mark and massively boosts minimalist's damage output

shalem doesn't have the raw hp to take the cannon but his s1 increases his max hp so he still survives. of the free defenders bison and heavyrain do have the raw hp but I don't have them raised so I went with shalem, also because he's got pretty good multitarget damage. czerny is like shalem in that he can't take the cannon raw but can with his s2

gladiia is used to bait the caster that appears bottom left after the first cannon hit so everyone else doesn't get their shit rocked and to help highmore clear the bigger reborn creations. shifting an enemy prevents them from attacking so highmore has enough time to restore some hp between their attacks

the swordguys deal massive damage per hit but their attack interval is a whole 5 seconds so they're extremely susceptible to bibeak slapping their attack animation out of their hands. she can take one hit from them too so she has a decent amount of leeway to recharge her skills and if kjera rolls freeze too it's joever for them. if you want this to be autodeploy stable you might want to replace kjera with absinthe or something though because the freeze will affect how you need to time bibeak's stuns on top of minimalist's damage varying a lot with his crit rolls

texas isn't like super crucial because she's just there to print dp but I tried with courier and i just haven't invested in him enough to make him print fast enough + the extra stun is nice to help bibeak at the end. just myrtle it if you're not playing under self imposed restrictions lol

highmore s1m3 shalem s1m3 honeybery s2lv7 kjera s2lv7 minimalist s2m3 gladiia s2m3 mod3 heidi s2lv7 texas s2m3 mod3 folinic s2m3 mod3 bibeak s2m3 mod1 tequila s2m3

[valeriefauxnom]

South Grastea, Annotated (and the geography for why the Halidom is a prospective attacker's worst nightmare)

So, even if we got some info on geography for Grastea, keeping track of where exactly everything is can be tricky. Thus, I made a small, crude map to help give an idea of where the 'big' locations are, story-wise! Hopefully it helps any fic-writer out there who might want to have an easy consult for where stuff is.

Thus, Euden's path in the main campaign is as follows, as represented by this even cruder drawing wherein black lines are like ch 1-4, blue 5-9, yellow 10-14, purple 15 (the filled in white circle is 'start' in Sol Alberia, filled-in black circle is 'end' of South Grastea shenanigans at the border:

Some of these are guesses (Chanzelia to Clave Loy'elune and Clave Loy'elune to Murgia Village, ex) but others are evidenced or shown outright, like Euden's path from Sol Alberia to the Mistholt forest.

Still a terrible map, but it does show how Euden was bouncing everywhere. The early chapters do make a lot of sense: he approached the Halidom through its southern forest route, then left to leave through Myriage lake to approach Sol Alberia from the north, then got turned around and fled to Mt. Adolla. Guess Euden was lucky when deciding to then flee to the Halidom instead of running to nearby Leonidas for help, though!

Oh, and I also kinda have figured out the vaugeries of how the Halidom is even approachable, because it was kinda confusing as to how people could access it from the west if it only has that main drawbridge in its near-island position.

Long story short, it is still effectively an island, with the only 'permanent' bridge being the stone bridge from the southeast, but even that has a drawbridge they could pull. However, the Halidom does have a wooden rope bridge that goes to the west.

This can be better seen on my own picture (which also shows how the Halidom on the map would change depending on how far you've developed the Halidom!):

From a near distance, it looks like so:

This is where it becomes funny in the Blood That Binds, wherein most the family split up to try and bait the replica Alberius from all sides. Leonidas is to the north, Valyx the south, Chelle to the west, and Emile (and Phares) to the east.

But, as we can see, the only true feasible routes to march any decently-sized force through is the west and the south. Any other route would require a lot of swimming and then mountain-climbing to scale the rocky walls, which is not recommended to keep an energetic and safe force.

Thus, replica Alberius and his brutish strength decides to strike west, north, east, and then south. If I had to guess, Leonidas was put to the north to either be a one-man army himself by being able to fly over the lake separating him from the Halidom, or as a stealth source of reinforcements to either Emile or more likely Chelle to hopefully catch Alberius off-guard.

But Emile? Emile was likely put to the east just to keep him out of the action. And they still didn't trust him to lead that force well enough in case something did happen that they plunked Phares there to babysit!

Interestingly, the Halidom's layout has unique implications for the tunnel system that exists. We know it goes from outside the castle into it (and specifically into Euden's room at one point), but from where does the other side emerge? Is it still on the island, or is it a long long journey to the under the water surrounding the Halidom and under that, followed by a long climb up? We can see some more tunnels in the Halidom map in game, so who knows.

We also see Halidom strategy come into play for Gala Leif's story.

As we can see, it's technically possible to get very creative and 'make a route' from the east, likely in the form of a long bridge to span the gap between the island and the mainland. This, however, is still a very unconventional and dangerous endeavor (defenders just need to break the bridge), characteristic of Harle, and likely not a recommended warfare strategy if one dreams of attacking the Halidom.

Honestly, though, it's a phenomenal position defensively. The biggest risk would be a siege because of the easily cut-off routes in and out, but even that is mitigated by the presence of flying dragons that could carry food as well as its own mini-forest on the island they could cultivate and sustain a small force with. Its likely water supply also is hard to disrupt, being an absolutely massive lake surrounding it and entering via a waterfall, which would be hard to stop or poison entirely.

Last but not least, the weather is also favorable to defenders who know the land well, as Chelle explains in the Blood That Binds:

The water surrounding the Halidom, combined with its temperature swings from day to night, causes thick fog that a defender could utilize (even if it's not magically thick as it was in the very beginning). Yes, in this case, it's the offense taking use of it, but the replica Alberius, possessing Alberius' memories, had a 'defenders' knowledge that the rest of the family wouldn't know as well since Euden as the only current firsthand source of nitty-gritty details for how the Halidom works defensively had not shown up.

It really does sound like a nightmare for an invader. It's no wonder Euden is able to defend it with such a small standing force, and quite likely a bit part in why so many left him alone in the early stages; the time and resources it would require to truly root him out would be disproportionate.

So...yeah. There's a bit about Southern Alberian geography and why the Halidom is a defensive monster!

[yuurei20]

Leona Info Compilation part 11: Leona and Rook

Leona refers to Rook as a “weirdo” and “creepy”.

Rook gifts him with a handmade portrait of Leona himself that he says is “pretty decent…but the thought of him watching me all this time creeps me out.”

And Rook watching Leona is very much what is happening: when an unnamed Pomefiore student finds Rook hiding behind a pillar so as to observe “a certain someone”, he says, “If those sharp fangs of his pierced my windpipe, why, I’d be done for in an instant. The very notion makes my heart quiver…how splendid the roi des lions is! He would make for fine hunting quarry indeed.”

Rook continues staring at Leona even during a class that Leona is ditching (possibly to avoid Rook himself), saying, “I could watch Leona all day and never tire of it.” Leona seems to notice his attentions (“Truly, a wild animal’s instincts are nothing to scoff at.”) and Rook concedes that their “game” has ended, saying, “I’d be lying if I said it didn’t get my hunter’s blood boiling every time I look at him…I so ache to corner that calm, collected quarry just enough to make him bare his fangs. Oh, to find myself in the position to make him squirm!” (Vil is unamused.)

One of Leona’s issues with Rook is his refusal to listen to what other people say, but he seems to have gotten used to it: in a vignette where Leona points out he is well aware that Rook has been following him around the school, Rook invites himself to sit down next to Leona in the cafeteria.

Ruggie responds with “Why even ask if you’re just gonna sit down anyway?” but Leona tells Ruggie to calm down, explaining that he is wasting his breath with Rook.

Rook reveals that he harassed Ruggie into revealing Leona’s “weakness” of disliking vegetables, and says that he is glad he got to see Leona eating, as “Mid-meal is when creatures are the second-most vulnerable, right after sleeping.”

Rather than rise to Rook’s bait, Leona tells Ruggie he is changing seats, as he cannot eat in peace with Rook staring from next to him. Rook invites Leona to dinner so that they might sit on opposite sides of a table instead (“That way I could see you from the front.”), but Leona ignores the offer.

Rook says, “It’s rather cute the way his tail thrashes about when he’s irate…the stronger the prey, the more I am driven to ensnare it.”

Dealing with Rook by simply refusing to engage seems to be a pattern with Leona: when Epel spills a potion that Rook had helped him make Leona insists upon recreating it from the beginning himself (to the point of carrying Epel and Grim physically back to the lab to do so) as the last thing he wants to do is “get dragged into something involving Rook.”

Despite claims that Rook is a “potionology expert” who told them that the potion “necessitated adjusting quantities based on temperature and humidity…and he said it was so hard that it showed up on graduation tests…Rook said there is no absolute, surefire recipe”, Leona crafts it during the course of the conversation, saying, “All I care about here is not getting on Rook’s bad side…the only reason I helped you was to get outta dealing with that hunter pest.”

There is a vignette that begins with Rook and Leona conversing in a hallway, but Leona looks most displeased about it.

We learn that Rook invited Leona to his birthday party but Leona refused to attend (sending Ruggie instead, possibly for the free food).

There is an interesting balance of Leona preferring Malleus to Rook, and Ruggie preferring Rook to Malleus.

Malleus refuses the invitation as well.

[chaoticstarlightwonderland]

One Piece x Dungeon Meshi AU

Specifically where the straw hats act out the dungeon meshi story with some slight alterations

I was thinking about a One Piece au with Delicious in Dungeon and how you would put the stories together and it seemed like the obvious thing would be to have Roger as the dead king at the beginning of the story. But that made me realise- What would Luffy be like in this world?

Roger, instead of his canon self who died with a smile, this version is filled with regrets. I’m assume his crew and other people close to him would be in the cursed kingdom. That includes buggy, shanks, and Ace. Without Shanks and Ace, what would Luffy grow up to be.

In canon, it was revealed from a young age he wanted to do something great to change the world, which turned into deciding to be pirate king thanks to Shanks. But there’s no great pirate era just a dungeon amongst many other dungeons all across the world.

So this is where a get a bit… “creative” with what Luffy will be in this AU. Brace yourselves.

Luffy is actually the half-elf in this AU and is known famously as “the least elf-like elf you would ever meet.” His grandfather Garp is a full elf who left Luffy with a group of humans to raise him. He learns just how badly the long-lived races can treat the short ones, which builds an anti-authoritarian attitude. While he is still cheery and adventure-loving self, he is fully aware that he will outlive all the friends he will ever make. Which gives him an idea, “If only every race could have the same lifespan.”

Such a powerful goal can seem very attractive to certain hungry demons…

But before all that happens, let’s talk about some of the others!

Zoro is a half-Ogre from the Eastern Archipelago. He left with his Tall Man cousin Kuina, the latter leaving because she didn’t wanted to escape an engagement and hone her magic. (They are canon cousins in the Shimotsuki family, I’m saying Zoro’s Roronoa ancestry are ogres/oni).

As you might guess, Kuina is the one that gets eaten by the red dragon and sacrifices herself to save the party.

Usopp is a half-gnome magic user. (I know another mixed race but I was reading and apparently many gnomes have vision problems and we couldn’t have that for Usopp). He has excellent vision from his human father, Yasopp. He became entranced by stories of adventuring and wanted to become one himself when he grew up. (Yasopp is probably dead from old age cuz gnomes are long-lived). Usopp is also the resident hair expert in the group like Marcille. (He and Robin are the canon hairdressers in the straw hats so it’s fate).

Nami is a half-foot trying to get rich to help her mother and sister on their family farm. She doesn’t have Chilchuck’s spouse and children problems but I reckon she gets a lot of slack from other half-foots for not settling down and getting married.

Sanji I think is a full elf fighter. Judge is an elf race supremacist. Sora is her kind self but only Reiju and Sanji grew up to be decent people. And even then Reiju is still forced to work for the family as the heir due to politics. Sanji escaped, but spent a long time on the streets half-starved. He could only make a living working lousy jobs for unscrupulous adventurers. One day he was left behind as bait in a dungeon but rescued by a dwarf named Zeff. Zeff took Sanji under his wing. Teaching everything he knows about monster cooking so that Sanji would never have to go hungry again. (Sanji was probably a little older than canon when he met Zeff). Zeff eventually started a restaurant within a dungeon, that isn’t very popular cuz of the monster meat taboo, but it’s known for being a good last resort and has saved many adventurers. Unfortunately one day the dungeon ended up closing up and Zeff and Sanji were left adrift again. They end up at the new dungeon where the rest of the straw hats are. Zeff is trying to make a living above ground to save up for a new restaurant and Sanji goes into adventuring to help. Sanji is an infamous eccentric elf cuz of the way he is helpless around the ladies and how open he is with monster cooking. While his food smells really good, he hasn’t been able to get anyone else to try it until Luffy came along.

While some of the other straw hats got sadder stories but Nami I think got off easy here lol.

Anyway I hope any of this makes sense.