#so whispy and ethereal

[thisblogisaboutabook]

Based on this amazing ask.

Dark Thraller - Part 1

Azriel x HewnCity!Reader, Arranged Marriage

Something darker than the night itself lurks within the Hewn City. Something dark and lovely and his. Azriel suddenly finds himself with a bride that he never wanted but when their marriage may be the one thing that saves their world as they know it, duty trumps all.

The female watched from shadows behind the archway connecting a granite corridor to the throne room of the Hewn City, peering into the busy room. She could smell the fear simmering within the room, it stoked at her own power, building as it fueled her senses. She shouldn’t be here, to be caught could mean death, perhaps worse, but this was her only chance to find the Seer.

Azriel stood cross-armed, hazel eyes honed in on Elain Archeron as she gracefully meandered through the throne room of the Hewn City. Its lecherous denizens ogling her as if she were nothing more than a whore in a pleasure house. Her dress was modest, a whispy train of tulle falling from her shoulders and trailing behind her, the perfect decoy for hiding his shadows as they listened in for tonight’s intended target. The gown hugged her slim figure just enough to give a tease of the lithe female form beneath.

He rolled his eyes as he took her in, reminded of Cassian’s insistence that black wasn’t her color but he was wrong - she was the ethereal moon to the Night Court’s midnight skies.

———

Elain knew she did not belong here. Not within the stone walls of this forsaken city. Not because she was too fragile. No, despite the fact that her sisters coddled her and the rest of the Inner Circle treated her like a delicate flower that would wither at the slightest touch, it was often overlooked that she had slain the King of Hybern. Sure, Nesta received credit for the final blow, but it was Elain who had been vital that day.

She didn’t belong here because of its own inherent darkness that mingled so well with the darkness within her own soul. She’d always tried to make the best of life, but years of poverty, being forced into the cauldron, losing Graysen, an unrequited mating bond, their fathers death, being held captive in Hybern’s camp, nearly losing Feyre during Nyx’s birth, the strife didn’t hold a candle to the pain she felt from being granted the so-called “gift” of sight and having no way to decipher it. Her visions were not light and airy, they were dark and inky, ominous at best.

The few times she’d visited this sect of the Night Court, her visions plagued her. Glimpses of gods and shadows, sacrificed maidens, life and death. And then, there was last time. The collision of an outside force greeting her own power, something fearsome and yet- gentle.

Azriel’s shadows gave a tug on the cape of Elain’s gown, working of their own accord. To Azriel’s chagrin, the last time they’d been here his shadows pushed boundaries, ignoring commands to stand down as they searched the space. They’d trailed Elain who had a particularly concerning vision of shadows upon water and whispers of death.

With the concerns of Koschei following the events with the Queens on the continent, it was enough to garner another visit. So, here they were. Azriel watching Elain like a hawk as she and his shadows searched the place.

Eyes diverted away from Elain as the main act arrived, Rhys and Feyre loosening the grip on their power as the doors flew open- their steps echoing throughout the now silent chamber as the High Lord and High Lady approached the dais. The crowd, having learned from previous reprimand, fell to their knees before their rulers.

It was then that Azriel’s shadows completely shrouded Elain, granting her cover as she dipped down a corridor that Azriel had very clearly lectured them NOT to go down. He wasn’t about to risk Elain’s safety, even if it meant failing the mission at hand of garnering more sight into these possible Koschei visions.

Elain took no more than ten steps down the corridor when a voice startled her from the shadows. “You.”

Elain gasped as Azriel’s shadows created a wall of shadow before her.

Not to protect her - but to conceal the source of the voice.

How very strange.

A lump formed in Elain’s throat as she mustered her courage for a moment, composing herself before squaring her shoulders and holding her head high.

“Yes?” She asked.

“You’re the Seer.” The voice spoke again. Feminine. Young, likely twenty or thirty but it was hard to tell with the fae.

“I am.” Elain spoke firmly. “And you are?”

The voice started before turning into a strangled gasp. The shadows cleared for Elain to find Azriel, holding the female from behind with Truth-Teller against her throat.

“I know what you are.” His deep voice spoke into her ear, his heated breath sending chills through the female.

“Azriel.” Elain spoke. “She was only curious. She didn’t harm me.”

Azriel didn’t move a muscle, only lifting his hazel eyes from behind the female to meet Elain’s gaze. “You don’t know what she is. The danger you were in.”

The cool blade pressed against the female’s throat and if it wasn’t for the obvious threat she posed, Azriel would have had a hard time missing the way her body fit so enticingly against his, the way her ass-

He growled. “Quit it.”

“Quit what?” The female puzzled.

Through gritted teeth, Azriel warned, “Your powers will not affect me, Dark Thraller.”

Elain kept quiet but she didn’t miss the smirk that rose on the female’s face at that. There was something about this female that resonated with her. She had a gentle presence, soft in all the right places to enhance her feminine appearance in a way that would leave most underestimating her, yet Elain knew there was more to this female, something deeper, something darker than her bright eyes let on.

Someone who could understand her.

———————————

Keir burst through the dungeon door first, followed by the general of his Dark Bringer forces and his second in command, Lord Thanatos.

“Keir, how nice of you to join us.” Rhys mused. Arrogant smirk plastered on his face.

Rhys and Azriel had spent the past two hours with the female, named Y/N, in the dungeons of the Hewn City. She was a Dark Thraller. An incredibly rare power of ancient fae, until today, it had been thought of as myth. She could not only wield darkness and shadow on her own accord but she could steal it, borrowing directly from the source, hence Azriel‘s shadows obscuring her from Elain. It was fortunate that he’d taken her by surprise when he’d snuck up on her, able to pull his shadows from her thrall and regain them as his own. Though they weren’t particularly eager to return to his side. He was still pissed about that.

The fact that Keir had kept this female a secret was enough to chap Azriel’s ass too. Mor’s father should have reported the female the moment her powers manifested, yet, he’d hoarded her. And much like with Mor, Keir and Lord Thanatos planned to breed her, using her as a bargaining chip in an arranged marriage to some noble on the continent that she had never laid eyes on.

“Release my daughter, immediately.” Lord Thanatos boomed.

The female remained silent, still, but Azriel didn’t miss the way her skin paled at his command. Rhys let out a dangerous laugh, not the warm laugh of the brother Azriel knew so well, but the bitter laugh of a High Lord about to put a subordinate into his place, or the ground, depending on how generous he was feeling.

Both males froze in place, faces turning cherry red as they fought against invisible restraints. Rhys placed an errant hand into his left pocket, a cruel smirk plastered across his face. “It seems I have not given enough attention to the seat of my court in recent years if this is how its people choose to greet their High Lord.”

His violet eyes narrowed as he took a tone befitting of the most powerful High Lord in Prythian’s history. “Kneel”

And before they had a chance to do so on their own accord, Rhys forced them into a submission. A gentle - considering the force he was capable of - reminder that they were indeed the lesser males in the room.

Rhys released his hold on the males as they gasped for air, remaining knelt until their High Lord dismissed the formal stance.

“It seems, Keir, that you and Lord Thanatos have been keeping this little gem a secret.” Nodding his head toward the restrained female, who easily could have broken the shadows to her submission. A test, then. To see how impulsive she was with her power, what manner of control she practiced over it.

Azriel didn’t trust her. Thralling? Yes, a Dark Thraller typically attracted darkness and shadow with their thralling abilities but how far did her capabilities go? Could she work on the minds of those wielding darkness as well?

Azriel broke from his inner thoughts to find the female staring at him with wide eyes. She was nervous. He stepped closer to her, keeping his gaze firm and narrowed but to his surprise, the nervous energy surrounding her did not increase. In fact, she seemed to relax slightly.

That was certainly a first for him in these dungeons.

Azriel had been so focused on her that he missed the last bit of groveling from Keir and Lord Thanatos. His attention once again fixed on the males and his High Lord as Rhys summoned a large table and five chairs.

Keir scoffed. “This is a conversation for males, she-“ he spoke the pronoun with venom, “has no business in these affairs.”

Rhys waved a dismissive hand at the male. “I always forget what antiquated views you harbor. At this table, she has a place. In fact, she has more of a place here than you do, since you so rudely interrupted our-” interrogation “conversation.”

“Azriel.” Rhys nodded toward the bound female.

Begrudgingly, Azriel released his restraints on the female. She stood, slowly, maintaining eye contact with him as she smoothed her satin gown, the fabric clung deliciously to her curves but Azriel was most taken by those mesmerizing eyes of hers as they held his cold stare. No malice, or hatred lay in her own eyes, the emotion was something that made his heart lurch. The same look a snared creature would give a hunter that held its fate in their hands, the same look a young boy once gave his cruel half-brothers as fuel soaked his hands while they held the flaming match.

Y/N broke her eye contact and approached the table, holding her head high. To her- and everyone in the room not named Rhysand’s - shock, he pulled the chair at the table’s head out and motioned for her to sit. He kept the arrogant mask plastered on and waited until she accepted that he was serious, shifting uncomfortably for a moment, before seating herself. That nervousness once again returning as she looked to the two Court of Nightmares males to her right.

Truly, Azriel didn’t trust her but he couldn’t bear to see that look on her face. He’d met her two hours ago and already knew she was too good to be intimidated by these pricks.

Azriel stepped to Keir, seated directly to next to her, Rhys seated to her left - and flatly commanded “move.”

Keir huffed an insidious laugh. “I don’t take orders from dogs.”

Azriel remained stoic, refusing to deign the pompous male with even a breath of irritation. He’d been called far worse

Rhys didn’t bat an eye at the command from his Spymaster, knowing Mor’s history, of course he would feel inclined to keep him distanced from a female stuck in a nearly identical situation as the one she was faced with all those centuries ago. “Keir, you truly are going out of your way to play the fool today. Keep it up and maybe we can reenact what happened to your arm the last time you disregarded the station of one of my Inner Circle?”

Keir bristled slightly before tucking his shoulders in a show of submission, pushing himself up, and swapping places with the Shadowsinger.

Azriel didn’t miss the slight ease of tension in Y/N’s jaw as he sat, though her heartbeat remained racing as indicated by the visible thrumming of her pulse in her neck and quickened breathing. His shadows gravitated toward her, intertwining with her ankles and then scurried away when she looked to them in a reprimanding manner.

By the rather adorable scowl furrowing across her brow, he had a feeling she hadn’t used her thralling abilities on them either. Interesting.

For all that they were excellent for spying, the things were incurably nosey to a fault.

Clearing his throat, Rhys began “It has been brought to my attention that lady Y/N is to be married to a male on the continent, not as a marriage of love but as one of title. Given her unique powers I propose that we arrange a marriage within our own court that will be both advantageous to the Night Court and to her in terms of power. Do you wish to elaborate on who you intend to marry her off to?”

Azriel noted the bead of sweat on Lord Thanatos’ brow as he glanced to Keir, vaguely-concealed concern flitting between the two.

Keir cleared his throat. “The male is simply a lesser-noble from a wealthy family on the continent. She is not worth the attention, your grace. Her power will be of no use to your court. They’re nothing more than an amusing party trick.”

Leaning back in his chair, Rhys held his chin between his thumb and forefinger in a show of consideration, before giving a grin. “I do enjoy parties. And it seems as if I could find a suitor that would be far more advantageous considering this unnamed lesser-noble is not even worth noting. Don’t you agree?”

Y/N seemed to shrink in her seat but what Azriel read on her face looked almost like “hope.”

What had she been put through for her future to be discussed as if she were nothing more than loose marks to be spent frivolously and still feel hope? He grit his teeth at the way Rhys carried on with the act, though he knew it was simply that- an act.

Silence filled the space and Azriel didn’t miss the way his High Lord’s gaze went vacant, communicating with someone. A small hitch in the breath of Y/N clued him in to exactly who he was communicating with.

“I’ve decided.” Rhys purred. “Lord Thanatos, your lovely daughter will wed my Shadowsinger.”

Outrage filled the room as the males let out shouts of disapproval before Rhys let his darkness fill the room. “Am I not High Lord? Do I not have final say in the affairs of my denizens?”

The males were silent. Rhys loosened his power further, a rumble sending loose dirt falling from the ceiling of the room onto the table before them. “I expect an answer.”

Lowering their gazes in submission, it was Keir who spoke first, “Yes, High Lord.”

Lord Thanatos let out a growl, shooting a violent glare in Keir’s direction.

“I expect an answer, Lord Thanatos.” Rhysand challenged.

After another moment, he finally caved in to the show of power. “Yes, High Lord.” The male growled.

The darkness faded as Rhys clapped his hands together. “Excellent. This evening just became far more interesting. We shall wed the two tonight!”

To his credit, Azriel said nothing, not one single show of disapproval or questioning.

“You two may be dismissed. We will coordinate the details of the wedding.”

As the two males, completely dumbfounded, exited the cell. The female looked to the floor, avoiding Azriel’s stony gaze- the gaze of her soon-to-be husband. Which was for the best as Azriel sent her a glare reserved for the worst of traitors. He did not want this, he wanted nothing to do with the female. His heart was destined to belong to the middle Archeron sister. He was to share his life with HER, not this strange enigma from the Hewn City.

Moments later, Elain and Feyre entered the room. Elain’s expression unreadable as they retrieved the female, Cassian and Nesta flanking them protectively as they led her off to prepare for the ceremony.

————

Rhysand knew he was a bastard. He took the corresponding show of rage from Azriel in stride, unable to disagree with the cold words and show of opposition to his order to marry the female.

What Azriel hadn’t seen was the terror Rhysand had gleaned in her mind. Her power was not a party trick, in fact she’d been hidden away beneath the Hewn City and put through rigorous training from the first moment her powers emerged. This female was trained to be used as a weapon and treated as such, there was nothing humane or loving about the environment she’d grown up in. But far more concerning than even the abhorrent conditions she had been brought up in was the undiluted panic regarding her impending nuptials. She indeed did not know who she was to be married to but she had suspicions.

Not to be wed to an unknown lord from the continent, not even to the highest ranking of nobility, but to a supreme being of death and decay, to Koschei himself.

And if her suspicions were correct, a power like hers in his hands would bring immeasurable suffering, an end to the world as they knew it. She was the token Keir needed to barter for his own rise to power. Ruling just the Court of Nightmares was never enough for a greedy bastard like him.

“The only way we can get her out of here is by wedding her to you tonight. If she’s wed, they have no contest to-” Rhys bristled as he spoke of the female as anything less than her own entity “They cannot claim ownership of her if she is wed. We cannot risk another moment of her being in their hands, Az. This marriage does not have to last forever, just long enough to ensure she is out of their hands and that we are in her good graces. Your duty is to keep her happy and protect her, if she ends up in the wrong hands, Azriel- more than just our own rule is at stake, Prythian, the world, could be doomed.

Guilt pressed in on the High Lord. If there were any other way, he would take it, but for now this was the most humane route.

And as Rhys shared the female’s suspicions of Koschei with Azriel, he understood. He hated every moment of this but he understood. He didn’t have to love her, he didn’t have to like her even, but he could stomach her as he did with any other undesirable duty.

_________

Azriel stood on the dais before a crowd of sneering Hewn City denizens. For this, his leathers would do. He was to send a message of power to the Court of Nightmares and removing his siphons would not do. Rhys and Feyre remained seated on their thrones appearing bored as they took in the quickly thrown together wedding, little more than wine and night-blooming jasmine marked the occasion. Though Rhys would have loved watching Lord Thanatos have to hand his daughter over to the Shadowsinger, he didn’t want him anywhere near her. She had dealt with enough coldness from the male in her twenty-five years of life, never again would she have to suffer through her father’s unkind hands upon her.

So, Azriel waited, his eyes focused solely on Elain as the doors opened and music began to play. Cassian would escort her to the dais. Azriel spared no glance to his bride as the audience turned in her direction. Even Elain who had caught his gaze briefly, and Lord Thanatos and his equally hateful wife who stood behind her, turned to marvel at the bride striding up the aisle. Azriel’s heart raced. He wanted Elain. His shadows pulled on him. Coaxing him to divert his gaze from the Archeron sister. No. He wanted Elain. His heart beat wildly as a tug pulled at him. He would not look. This female was not who his heart belonged to. He belonged to Elain. Azriel’s shadows hissed in his ears to look as his heart urged him to spare a glance in her direction.

Finally, he shifted his gaze and time stood still. Before him was the most beautiful female he’d ever seen. No longer did she appear meek, or nervous- she stood taller with her head held high. A cobalt blue gown hugged her curves, dipping down to reveal her ample cleavage, the fabric clung to the curve of her hips, caressing her upper thighs before flaring out toward the bottom. Her knuckles tightly gripped a bouquet of morningstar flowers and delphinium. Where the dress had been conjured from, Azriel had no idea. The flowers were likely Elain’s doing. He tried to turn his head back to Elain but he couldn’t bring himself to avert his gaze away from the beauty before him.

His shadows left his side, flowing down the aisle and swirling around the bottom of her gown, giving the appearance that they were carrying her to him. The crowd gasped at the illusion and Azriel noticed the surprise on her face. Either she was an excellent actress or she truly didn’t have the control over her powers.

But Rhys had said that she’d been trained from the time they manifested. Surely they weren’t going to her on their own accord. Was her thrall that powerful?

Azriel nearly felt his shoulders slump in disappointment as her gaze shifted to Elain who awaited at the foot of the dais to retrieve the bouquet.

As Elain stepped forward, a tear was heard followed by a gasp. Azriel looked to see that the bottom half of Elain’s dress had torn. Her cheeks flushed, eyes wide with shock. Before Azriel could react, he felt loss of control over his shadows as Y/N flung her arms out commanding them in Elain’s direction. Azriel’s heart lurched, fury clouding him at this attack on Elain, he stepped forward only to halt in his tracks as two shadows darted out to restrain Y/N’s mother, and the remaining shadows shrouded Elain completely.

Y/N hurried toward Elain, stepping into the confines of the shadows, now shrouding the both of them. Azriel almost smirked as Y/N’s voice loudly echoed from the shadows “Don’t mind her. She’s even uglier inside than that sneer she wears on her face, which says a lot.” A soft giggle from Elain reached Azriel’s ears. “Come on, let’s get you something else to wear. Can your sister bring some wine?”

The crowd parted as the shadowed females made their way out of the crowd, Nesta and Cassian following suit.

This female stopped her own wedding to come to the aid of a female she didn’t even know. Azriel didn’t know what to think of that but he did know that he couldn’t let himself fall for her. He wouldn’t let himself fall for her.

——————————————————

A/N: this will be a 2 or 3 part series! I am too tired to proofread so if there were a bunch of typos, no there weren’t.

Tags:

ACOTAR general: @lilah-asteria @thecollegecowgirl @mochibabycakes @nickishadow139

Requested tags based on previous excerpt posted: @erikan809 @thalia-as-blog

[gabessquishytum]

I think we are sleeping (ha) on fat Dream possibilities! I'd love it if we had fat dream because you can still be ethereal and otherworldly when fat (and I think that hangs people up) and I need more fat characters who aren't written as sunshiney!

like, fat Dream possibilities: human fat trans Dream, who has grown up with his AWFUL family about it; Endless Dream who used to be fat but gradually the dreamers started viewing him as insubstantial and thin and wispy + his lovers and others wrecked his psyche about it and now he feels like he can't have comfort related to it; retired Dream who either chooses a fat form or becomes fat living with Hob.

and obviously Hob loves Dream and Dream's body and can make him feel good about himself. Or it could be immortal throuple or smthn else.

(I am planning on writing a couple of these but it will take like nine years so sending this out to everyone :) )

ANON you are so right about Fat Dream!!!!! Never fear because I also think about him frequently. I dabbled briefly in a fic with a retired Dream who ends up gaining some weight and really liking it a lot (A Holy Revival) but I would love to explore more of this. I TOTALLY agree that the whole "ethereal magical beings can't be fat" thing is so wrong and it really grinds my gears. Dream can and should be fat!!!

I particularly love the idea of Dream kind of envisaging himself as fat. So when he's alone maybe he chooses to be fat, but when others are around they impose this idea of whispy thinness onto him, and he has to appear that way. And then he's trapped in that skin and bone form for 100 years so when he gets out of the fishbowl he's really really upset about it.

Then maybe he's surprised by the fact that during their frequent meetings after they're reunited, Hob starts envisaging him as fat so he's able to appear in that way? Not sure how it would work but something like that, anyway. Maybe it's because of Hob’s idea of beauty being more skewed towards fatness, or maybe he just wants Dream to be well fed.

I think that this concept has SO much potential and it genuinely means a lot to me, I'm glad you feel the same! I hope more people will be encouraged to consider Fat Dream!!!

[where-does-the-heart-lie]

For @orange-artist ‘s ASL god AU DTIYS! (congrats on the milestone!)

This was really fun, I absolutely love drawing ethereal designs

Additional notes 👇

So i adjusted the original designs ... a bit... To draw in my style means that i have to make everything extra, sorry.

Ace:

I like the base design for Ace a lot! i looked at other posts to get more context to these outfits and i say this draping billowy pants design that i liked a lot more, so I used that instead of the ones he has in the picture.

I love his cute little star crown, i think it looks dope as hell. I wanted to bring it to other parts of him too, so I gave him an arm cuff with it, too! If i had drawn the front of him, you would also see that crown design around his waist as a belt, too.

i originally had him in a pose similar to the one he has in the original, but after i sketched out the other two poses i found he looked a little two flat, so i brought his hand out to the foreground.

I like the choice for his hair to gradient out to look like a comet! I had a lot of trouble trying to make it look Just Right, but i think I nailed it

Luffy:

I didn't change much about his design, I really just made him a little more yellow than he was before. Its hard to improve an already banger design. He's my ethereal silly guy...

I really love the idea of Luffy's scars looking like gold, that's really cool.

I wish I could've added that cold crown he has around his head, but i didn't know how to without it looking sloppy so i had to leave it out.

Sabo:

I changed so much about Sabo's design, i would like to send out a formal apology for it, I admit I went a little too ham. I had already completed the picture before i went back to look at the original post and saw the comments about how Sabo was supposed to look... discreet...... I... Did Not Make Him Discreet. In The Slightest. :DDD ehe

I needed help for Sabo's pose because i was having so much trouble with the hand, i called upon my good website friend JustSketchMe to get it right. I had this idea for the pose because i wanted the claw to look like a crescent moon, I think it looks pretty good.

I would've given him normal snakebite piercings too but i felt that the ring piercings looked more Crescent-like, so i went with that.

Moon belt. i want that moon belt. I have no outfits it would go with. but i still want it.

I love Sabo's whispies that he has in the original design, but when I put them in the art i had, it cluttered up the piece too much and I had to get rid of them. A moment of silence for the fallen whispies...

Noticing now I forgot Sabo's Cane..... oops.

General:

I shaded Luffy to be lighted by the sun, Sabo the moon, but i made Ace be the light for himself. There's some deep meaning to that, but I cant think of one right now.

I had a lot of fun drawing this, i hope i was failthful enough to the original designs even though i changed everything a lot :)

Drinking game: take a shot everytime I used the word "I", take a double shot each time i forgot to capitalize it, too. You will be Dead by the end of the post, though.

[birdsong-goeson]

Jealous Alejandro kidnaps Valeria's girlfriend part 8 (5.3k words)

Summary: Valeria unsettles Y/N with her scheming during prison. Alejandro is the first to know about some disturbing news. Warnings: mentions the term "rape" but it doesn't happen in this fic!! It's just mentioned so a heads up. Also Valeria being kinda scary and toxic but like what's new. Also lesbian smut Note at the end Link to A03 Links to masterlist with all the parts

Valeria watched you sleep, your face softly illuminated by the moonlight that leaked through the casement window. The sounds of your soft breathing, watched as your chest moved up and down, as you burrowed your face to Valeria's side. Circumstances were grim at the moment, you'd been jailed for about a fortnight in less-than-ideal conditions. None of your normal luxuries were available, your favourite items; trinkets and creams, the beautiful things you liked to surround yourself with. And yet, you never complained, not even once. It was amazing how much women could adapt, Valeria thought. How they could mould themselves to survive under any conditions. Valeria thought you'd be complaining throughout your whole jail period, but you didn't. Not when the water turned cold in the showers, not at the filth that clung to these walls no matter how much they were scrubbed. You did not complain about the constant surveillance, the lack of space or how hard the bed was. Valeria knew that it was because you were kind and did not want to make her feel guilty. Valeria wasn't happy about these conditions either but a part of her enjoyed this more than she should be. The two of you were constantly together, it was more time than you spent together even back home. Without the interruptions of work, you clung close to each other like puppies in a litter. Valeria stroked your hair and looked up at the sky. It was full of stars, the facility was so far out in the country that there was no light pollution. Each star shone brightly, the sky was a map of blinking constellations and the occasional shooting star. Valeria closed her eyes and made a wish. When she opened them, she gazed at the moon. It was full to the brim, shining a light on all this darkness. Valeria felt the culmination of all her efforts. As the moon filled up in the sky, she counted down the days.

She thought back to the nights the two of you spent together when you first got together. When you'd run to the beach to see the moonlight glimmer on the water. A towel stretched beneath you, the two of you bathed beneath the moonlight, it shone on your skin and you glistened like a diamond. You looked beautiful, ethereal even. Like a creature that had emerged from the depths of the ocean, sweet and otherworldly, reaching the shore just to lure your love back to the water. If you were ever to enter the glistening water and entice Valeria to follow you, she knew she'd follow you to the deepest parts of the sea. Anything for you. Valeria felt the moon as a steady passage of time, she'd think of how much life changed since the last full moon. And now that she gazed down at you, she knew you were ready for your next part. You were unaware of what would happen, of course. Things would go back to the way they were before, with Valeria in charge of the business and the hard things. The bills, payments, money, property. And you could go back to your world of trinkets and beauty, to whatever wonderland existed within your mind. A wonderland that Valeria never wanted you to lose, a spectral place that she'd guard forever.

When morning came, you went through your current routine. Washing first, breakfast at the dinner area, and you were now taking your daily walk. It was a privilege Valeria had managed to extract from the management's claws. The two of you paced the courtyard, exercising your legs. Finally, you sat on a patch of sunlight, plucking at the dry weeds with your fingers and scattering the whispy remains into the air. "What's wrong, my love?" Valeria asked as she leaned against the wall, watching you. The wind carried the muffled yells of the men from their side of the courtyard, which was separated by a tall stone wall and barbed wire. It disturbed your peace. "Nothing," you mumbled and grabbed more weeds. Valeria took a big breath. She felt you enter one of your special moods, grumpy and touchy but ultimately attention-seeking. There were moments where, to her shock, you'd grow insecure or impatient. When you weren't getting something you wanted fast enough, or when a negative thought burrowed itself so deeply in your mind that you struggled to move on. "Having troubles in your little mind palace, princess?" Valeria cooed and pouted down at you. You looked up at her and frowned back. You returned to your weeds. "I want to go home." You said finally. It was the first time you'd expressed your displeasure. Guilt enveloped Valeria's heart and she tried to swallow it down. "I know, baby. I know." She said softly, looking away. "I'll get my period one of these days and I don't want to spend it here." You said and lay back on the grass. The sun shone on your face and your hair, and you glistened once more.

Valeria nodded and looked to the side where a guard stood, watching. She kept looking as the guard spoke to his radio and started making his way towards you. "If he tells us to go inside I'll start screaming," you said and turned to the side. You quietened down as the man approached. "Garza, you have a call." He said and looked at Valeria. She wanted to make him point out which of the two of you he meant since you'd taken Valeria's last name. But she knew it was petty and no one would make calls to you anyway. You stood up, alarmed. "Not you, you stay here till she comes back." He said and took Valeria with him. She waved back at you as she followed the man.

Valeria's hair had gotten slightly longer in the short time you'd been here. Her hair grew fast and thick, she needed regular trimmings and she maintained them religiously. You watched with enjoyment as her hair bounced to the side, it almost reached her shoulders. You tried imagining Valeria with long hair, she would look beautiful with it. But it wasn't her style, ultimately. As you saw her leave your line of sight, you wondered what she was up to. Probably scheming, she was always doing that. You thought back to your girlhood and what you'd imagine your future husband to be like. It was a husband because anything else was unimaginable. It was always a faceless man, a blank canvas where his face was. You'd tell your friends this was so because you were not shallow and did not care what he looked like. But really, it was because you couldn't think of him as real. No face would fit him, you just knew you were meant to look forward to this man, even though you could never see him standing next to you. You smiled at yourself, thinking of how your ideal husband was a wife. For the first time, you understood what people meant when they said that home was not a place, but a person.

You didn't know what had happened during Valeria's call, but she was in an ecstatic mood when she returned to you. There was a perpetual grin on her face and her eyes glistened with satisfaction for the rest of the day. Later, deep into the night when the prison was 'closed' for the day, she could no longer keep it to herself. Her elated mood was obvious from the rigour of her lovemaking. She fervently kissed your breasts, tugging at them with her hands, cupping them tightly and squeezing almost till they hurt. She left bite marks on your skin and hickeys on the sensitive spots that made you squirm. You tried keeping quiet throughout all these, biting your lower lip to suppress your moans from escaping. Valeria's fingers worked on you sweetly, caressing your wetness. She'd cover your mouth with hers when her touches made it impossible to keep quiet. Your cry of pleasure was muffled and safe in her mouth, where she'd lick and bite, unrelenting with her fervent passion. You came on her hand, her curled finger was still inside you when she whispered, "We're getting out." You blinked slowly, your lips red and pouty, your body still reeling from your orgasm. "Really?" You asked quietly. Valeria kissed you again. "Yes, my love." She said. "Is that what the call was about?" You asked and put your head on her shoulder. You caressed Valeria's chest, wanting to reciprocate. "Yes. But promise me one thing, Y/N."

You looked up at her. Valeria's cheeks were flushed, her mouth slightly agape and her lips glistened like rubies. "Whatever happens, don't ask any questions. You don't have to do anything. Just don't ask anything." You were acutely aware that her fingers were still inside of you as she started very slowly pulling them out and then reinserting them. It made you hum lightly and twitch from the inside. You mumbled your assent. "Say it, Y/N." Valeria mumbled, her fingers moving faster. "Yes," you whispered and felt that warm, tingly ball of pleasure in your lower stomach tighten again. "Yes what, Y/N?" Valeria teased and brought her face close to yours, her lips almost touching yours, her eyes gazing down at your own. Valeria's fingers entered with more force and involuntarily, your legs spread further apart. Valeria licked her lips. "Yes, I will." You said, half-dazed, wondering if that's what she wanted to hear from you. You sensed that there was no right answer right now. Her fingers pumped faster. "Will what, Y/N?" "Whatever you want, Val." You squirmed and tossed your head back in pleasure. "Whatever I want?" Valeria asked very slowly, giving you a small peck on the mouth. You nodded vigorously, unable to use your voice.

"I want your silence, amor. I mean it." She said and ceased moving. You pouted in disappointment and moved your lower body for any scraps of pleasure, when Valeria suddenly placed both her hands on your hips, firmly. She stopped your movements. Something dark and cold flashed in her eyes then. The tenderness in your intimate moment was lost, as though you'd been gazing at the soft ripples of a river and the water suddenly turned black; contaminated. Valeria held tightly onto your hips. "I've done something terrible, Y/N." Her whisper was so low you almost missed it, her words vanishing as they left her lips. She kept looking at your eyes but unseeing, she was looking at something else in her mind. For the first time, you were frightened of her. Not afraid that she'd hurt you, but afraid of what she'd done to protect you. You knew Valeria was capable of many awful things, you knew she was capable of incredible violence and that she'd hurt a lot of people in her lifetime. Valeria's closeness with chaos never disturbed you, it was second nature to her and you were blindly accepting of it. All the terrible things she did never caught up with you. Until now, that is. You wondered that perhaps you'd grown too merciful of her. For the first time, you despaired at Valeria's intimacy with darkness, how it dwelled so naturally within her. How it would follow her wherever she went. "What did you do?" You asked with a frightened voice. Valeria tuned into your eyes again, feeling the undercurrent accusation beneath your words; it stung her.

"I did it for us," Valeria said with an emphasis on the last pronoun, a retort to your question. "You know I'd do anything for you, don't you? " Valeria nodded at you as she said this. The moon had moved from where it was when your lovemaking started earlier that night, it now barely illuminated half of Valeria's face. It created the eerie effect of seeing a half-formed person in front of you, someone eclipsed by shadows, a creature emerging from the darkness. She seemed almost like a ghoul crouching in front of you. You shook your head to dispel the frightful image from your mind. "You don't believe me?" Valeria's words sounded like a hiss in your ear, there was pain in her words. You realised how Valeria interpreted that slight shake of your head; your hands rose up to cup her face, it was cold. "Of course, I believe you." You said and pressed your lips to hers quickly, your heart hammered against your chest. You chided yourself for doubting her in your heart. It was true that darkness clung to Valeria like a sheet, but that was not all. There was love, too and where there was love there was fear. She was afraid to lose you - she'd already lost you when you were taken from her. And she would not lose you again. The worst things in this world were not done by bad people but by desperate people. And since this was all for you, how could you not cherish this? You continued pecking at her lips, mumbling sweet words to her. "Thank you for everything, baby. You know how much I love you, right?" Valeria mumbled something back and lightly returned your kisses; it was the beginning of your absolution. "Whatever it is, Val, you don't have to tell me. I won't ask about it, I promise." You said and lightly coaxed her to lie down on the bed. She gave in and slowly lowered herself, but her eyes never left yours. Her face was completely blank, you felt that she was cautious of you still. She would not forget your accusation so quickly, but she would soften in time. You knew how to do it, you'd done it many times before but each time stood on its own, separate from the others. You traversed foreign, unsafe waters each time, you felt.

Suddenly feeling self-conscious of your nakedness, you reached for your shirt but Valeria got to it first. She tossed it away and shook her head at you, her eyes burned into yours and she placed you on top of her so that you were straddling her. You almost smiled to yourself about what was to come. This is (almost) how you always redeemed yourself when you'd done something to trigger insecurity within your incredibly jealous wife. It was like the taming of a wild animal, your sensuality was in many ways your superpower when it came to Valeria. It made you glow from the inside. First, you'd look away from her shyly, as you did now. The ends of your lips tugged downwards into a soft pout. "I'm embarrassed, baby." You complained lightly and raised your hands so that they covered your nipples. Enough to recover your modesty but the space between your fingers teased her with glimpses of what was behind them. Valeria stared at your chest now, entranced. The softness of your skin, the curve of your silhouette, the loveliness of your mouth. The way your lashes fluttered like a butterfly as you looked at her and then away again So lovely, thought Valeria. The loveliest thing she'd ever had. Valeria's hand grabbed one of your hips and then travelled lower, the tips of her fingers touching your bare buttocks.

Absolution was bestowed on you after many caresses and kisses, your transgression was finally forgotten when Valeria finished. The two of you lay on the bed after, your bodies entangled and shiny with sweat. Many minutes passed like this, you watched as the moonlight left the room and you lay there, in the dark. The final pangs of orgasm faded, and silence hung in the air. Per your word, you remained silent on the matter but your curiosity gnawed at you from the inside. What was so terrible that could not be said? It was not something that would affect you, presumably. But it seemed to involve you, though not directly. It was well past your usual bedtime, but your mind would not quit. You feigned sleep but could feel that Valeria was awake next to you. No matter how terrible, the deed was done. It was all for your sake, after all. You thought back to all your years with Valeria, to all the casualties your love had created but that you pretended to not notice. The first casualty was Alejandro, who was cheated on and then abandoned. Then was your family as you just disappeared off the face of the earth, never to be seen or heard from again. Then there were all who'd died during Valeria's operations, all the people trambled on and double crossed to quench Valeria's thirst for money. Money that she swore would keep you safe, but hadn't. Then there were all the people killed recently during your kidnapping and then your liberation. There was a pile of bodies, both dead and alive, created just because you and Valeria wanted to be together. Yours was a selfish love, indeed. As you fell into an uneasy, guilt-ridden sleep, you wondered if that pile was to grow more.

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"Much has been written of love turning to hatred, of the heart growing cold with the death of love. It is a remarkable process. It is far more terrible than anything I have ever read about it, more terrible than anything I will ever be able to say." -from 'Giovanni's Room' by James Baldwin.

To be a man was not a given condition but a continuous effort, Alejandro believed. An effort that never stopped, it was a cup that needed to be constantly refilled as though there was a hidden leak. It was a condition that needed to be reinforced regularly. It took a lot to be a real man; hardened and unyielding. It was easy to be a man in front of women, you only had to be male. But to be a man in the company of other men meant to be singular. A real man had presence; he was the one barking orders and calling the shots, the one who made others avert their gaze when their eyes met. A real man changed a room when he stepped into it. A real man could outdrink and outlift his comrades. A real man was not fucked; he did the fucking. There was a hardness in his core that would never soften; rugged masculinity prevailed.

Alejandro's mind wandered on all these things and his accomplishments. He'd always dreamed of being the way he was now. A strong and feared leader of the Vaqueros, someone who ranked at the top of the Mexican Army. Someone who ran operations and succeeded. A man who got the job done. Masculinity was the armour he covered himself with when existing in the world, it was how he let others know he wanted to be treated - with respect. Not the respect that every person was owed, but the respect of a superior. And yet he never ceased to covet it, he always felt that he must reinforce his masculinity, to assert that he was a man. Alejandro had worked hard to make this happen. Blood, sweat and tears went into this work. It wasn't easy or natural for him. Sometimes, he wanted to give in to pain and desire so badly, to surrender control and indulge in what he really wanted. The foods he avoided because they would mess with his diet plan, the days of rest he craved but could not have because he worked out a lot to maintain his muscle. The touches he wanted to feel and deliver, but would never dare to. Because he was not soft enough to melt into love. He did not have the gentleness that was needed when handling women. And he was not sissy enough to dwell on the thoughts he had of other people. The intrusion of those images made him recoil in disgust when they materialised in his mind. No, none of these things would do. Because he was a man.

Alejandro looked at his reflection. He was in his dimly lit bathroom, touching his gruff beard, which was always trimmed but never cleaned-shaven. He could not stand the idea of having soft skin on his face, so he kept his appearance neat but not too fresh. His features were in no way soft, either. He had strong, intimidating dark eyes. The deep lines on his face - the marks of years gone by, the signification of his fast-approaching middle age - made him look experienced and yet, still, handsome. He brushed his hair roughly with his comb, no longer being gentle with his movements even though he still felt the remnants of pain from the injuries inflicted by Valeria. The savage slices on his wrists. Mentally, he was over it and he willed his body to do the same. Annoyingly, he'd been put on sick leave against his will immediately after Valeria's arrest. For his own good and recuperation, they said. Alejandro had sustained injuries, sure, but they were so minor and insignificant to him. It wasn't like he hadn't been injured before when answering the call of duty. He'd barely need anything more than some stitches and bandages. But no matter how vexed his protestations were, he could see that he was changed in his comrade's eyes and that he could not convince them that he was well enough to continue. As he walked around the headquarters, he noticed that soldiers could no longer meet his gaze. Their eyes darted to the side shamefully and with a jolt, he had realised it because they were ashamed of him. Over the course of this operation, he had become changed in their eyes; he was smaller, unreliable. Disgraced, he thought bitterly.

Alejandro's hands shook as he jolted the medicine cabinet open and reached for the white bottle containing his migraine medication. He shook the bottle and dropped two white, innocuous pills into his palm. He swallowed them dry, tasting their bitterness where they touched his tongue. He'd planned and executed this entire operation so quickly, he got them what they wanted! He said he would get Valeria and he did. He had achieved their goals, he ticked all the boxes. It was because of him that they were able to accomplish this mission! So how could they be so ungrateful? How dare they look down on him because he didn't go exactly by the book? It's not like he was the first to ignore some rules. Y/N wasn't the first (nor the last) civilian to be detained illegally. He didn't even touch her! He even expected Valeria's attack; she acted exactly how he thought she would, and he had let the 141 and Graves know this from the start. But now here he was, in his house in rural Mexico, under the guise of 'medical leave,' forced to take all the blame for the damage inflicted on the Mexican Army Headquarters. He returned the bottle to the cabinet and exited the bathroom.

He walked to his sparsely furnished living room with heavy steps, the wooden floorboards creaking beneath his feet. He sat down on his sofa and opened his laptop. He looked at the time; two minutes till his scheduled call with Laswell, perhaps his only ally at the moment. Laswell was strict about protocol but she and him shared the same vision and passion when it came to accomplishing their goals by any means necessary. No matter what strings needed to be pulled. He thought of Y/N for a moment, how frightened she was of him. He felt the memory like a hot iron. His breathing quickened and he felt that warm feeling he so often denied himself traverse across his body against his will. He tried to shake himself free of this feeling, these memories that kept pestering him when he least expected. The way she sat there so girlishly. She was a grown woman of course, almost as old as Valeria. And yet that youthful vitality clung to her like a wet flower petal. It was something about her wide-eyed gaze that made her emit this permanent girlhood. It made him hate Y/N even more, how she effortlessly proved her superiority to him. Her ungrazed beauty and distilled vitality set her apart from people like him. Who wouldn't commit adultery for her? And yet there was something warm floating in that sensation of hatred. Laswell started the video call and Y/N vanished from his mind.

"Buenos Dias, Laswell," he said. "Good morning, Colonel. How are you feeling?" She said. Alejandro noticed the trailing smoke of a cigarette floating behind her figure. The cigarette itself was concealed, but its smoke danced across the air freely. Alejandro felt the pit in his stomach harden. "Good, good. It's so nice and quiet here, away from everything. But I'm missing all the action." Alejandro noticed the tightness of Laswell's polite smile. She wasn't someone who indulged in ornamental displays of politeness, she was an American after all. And the fact that she was entertaining him so falsely worried him. "I'm glad to hear that," she said. Silence hung in the air, her artificial charm was wearing off. Alejandro swallowed down his anxiety. "So," he said and looked around, pretending something had caught his eye. "What are the other-"

"Valeria and Y/N are being released from custody." Alejandro's eyes snapped back to the screen. If his eyes could burn a hole through the laptop, they would've.

"What?" He said and felt anger lit up his chest from the inside. Laswell was no longer smiling. "There's no easy way to say this." She took a deep breath. "You are already aware of how precarious this operation was, Colonel. The seizure of an uninvolved civialian-" "Don't give me that bullshit, Laswell." He interrupted. "We needed her and it was to get Valeria out of hiding." "Yes, that is true. But you fucked it up." Laswell spat out and deeply inhaled a puff from her cigarette. Her hand shook slightly as she placed the cigarette on its holder. "Were you aware that Valeria was recording?" Laswell asked. Alejandro's anger froze. He thought back to their encounter, but his mind was blank. "Recording what? "She was wired and recording when she found you, during the attack. Did you know that?" Alejandro felt like something heavy was pressing down on him. He thought back to what Soap told Valeria as she was placed in the detention vehicle. 'You're going down for what you did.' That's what Soap said and yet Valeria flashed a devilish grin at him, her eyes glimmering with delight. It doesn't matter what I did, she'd said. It matters what you can prove. Alejandro seethed in his seat. "So, what? She's a criminal. She's running a fucking cartel and aiding Hassan with his missiles. Who cares about a stupid recording?" Laswell looked at him, moving her jaw slowly as she calculated her words. "You're aware that Valeria disclosed the location of these missiles. And the missiles are classified, so there is no use persecuting her for-" "Okay, so she'll serve time for the cartel business-," he interrupted and was cut short. "Valeria is threatening to sue for the kidnapping and rape of her wife, Alejandro."

The world fell silent in his ears, he could only hear the ringing sound from his blood rushing. Laswell continued. "I've seen the recording, Alejandro. It's ugly work." She worked more on her cigar, inhaling deeply all that nicotine. "Think about the optics here. Shadow Company, the 141 and Los Vaqueros teaming up to kidnap an innocent civilian and enable rape during custody. Do you understand how serious this is?" She did not look at him as he spoke. Alejandro could barely stammer out his words. When they came out, they were soft and full of fear. "Laswell. I would never do something like that. She is lying," his teeth clattered, he felt his whole jaw vibrate. "I never touched Y/N. I swear it." Laswell shook her head with a frown. "You certainly alluded to something in the recording, Colonel. You all but admitted to it." "I was bluffing to piss her off, I would never do something like that." He said and heard himself sound like a scolded, pathetic child. "I'm not blaming you for anything, Alejandro. I'm just telling you what we're dealing with. During an already sensitive operation, we're now facing exposure. We cannot allow this to happen. You understand this?" "So they're being released..." "Quid pro quo. We got the missile locations and discretion, they get to walk free."

It was like the world was pulled under from beneath his feet. He thought back to when Valeria entered the container back at the headquarters, how flushed she was from her run up to that point. The creases of worry on her face, the way she frantically looked around the room for Y/N. Alejandro could not resist antagonising her. He'd lied about doing things to Y/N because it only seemed fair at the time. That Valeria would face some sort of punishment for what she'd done to him. That was her supreme crime in Alejandro's eyes. It was never about the missiles. And like always, she came out on top. He gritted his teeth, she was always getting away with things. And not only that, but she always found a way to ruin things for others as well. Alejandro saw the contempt in Laswell's eyes, and he knew that he was now debased in her eyes forever. No matter what he said from now on, he could never redeem himself in her eyes. The shame of it burned in his chest. His fall from grace showed no sign of stopping, he felt the walls around him collapse. And then there was the other thing in the recording, the thing about Rudolpho...

"Laswell. How much of the recording did you see?" He could not look at her. "All of it, I'm afraid." She said. He could burst into flames from the shame he felt. So, she had seen it. Is that why she was looking at him like that? Laswell had a wife, it was true, but did that really make a difference now? Alejandro didn't know what was worse: that Laswell would look down on him for his ambiguous desires, or that she'd feel a silent allegiance to him. Both potentials filled him with despair. "Has anyone else seen it?" He asked. "No. I wanted to tell you about it before destroying it. There is no use in keeping it." Alejandro felt his heart lighten. "Am I being dismissed from service?" He said, looking at his window and the world beyond it. It was a dry season now, and he could hear the cicadas sing. The sound lulled his mind, he could think of nothing.

"No, Alejandro. I also called to tell you this. You've been requested back at the base, your medical leave has been cut short. As far as the others are aware, you're ready to get back to work. No one else knows about this." She continued telling him about the details, the date he was to report back to base, and what he'd missed since he went on leave. What the 141 were up to, that they sent their regards and wished him well. He heard it all like it was spoken to someone else. "Thank you, Laswell. We'll talk soon." "Of course, Colonel." She said and closed the call.

He stood up with the laptop in his hands and tossed it to the nearest wall. It shattered into a hundred pieces; he did not clean it up. When he left his house for good, the pieces remained there, scattered.

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Note: Sorry guys I really wanted this to be the last chapter but this part already came out longer than I expected and I haven't finished the final scene to the point where I'm happy with it. And because I haven't updated in a while, I'll post this part and finish it off properly in the next part. Thank you for reading I hope you enjoyed it! And to clarify, Alejandro didn't assault Y/N! But because he lied and alluded to something like that in a previous part, Valeria decided to use it against him.

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[fyuyushia]

[7:58 PM] - He's back, tangible, different, but still the same.

As the cave threatened to sink after the decisive battle between the young yet fearsome Asura and the random man who happened to come intervene at just the right time thought the Aether portal located just in your vicinity, your body trembled from the excessive use of mana in one go.

Spending almost all your mana stabilizing the cave in order to make sure it wouldn't break down, you blocked the falling debris and ruined architecture with a barrier that encased everyone of Dicathen.

Finally given the chance to lay off on the defense, you released the spell you conjured, feeling your taut muscles quickly relaxing once finally given the chance to rest.

You panted, wheezing as you clutched your chest, feeling the backlash of your overuse. It had only been a short while, but your mana reserves had already been drained to nothingness.

That asura—Taci—was no laughing matter. In a matter of moments, he had already gone through our strongest defense—lance bairon—and slaughtered the rest of the guards that were willing to act as shields in seconds. Even you—one of the few capable mages cowered at his presence alone.

Your attempts at holding him back were short lived, just a glare, just a step, and it was already enough for you to realize that your efforts were meaningless. He easily dodged the spells, wasting no unnecessary movement as he did so.

When his eyes landed in you, shivers ran down your back.

That split second of fear had cost you Eleanor's life.

As she took the blow you were forced to take with a feeble arrow of her making, she successfully managed to rapture the attention of the pantheon.

You're not quite sure what happened next. Only that Taci went past you and focused on Ellie alone, wishing death upon her and making her suffer as he did so. You could hear her mother's hysterical pleas, using her healing magic despite Ellie being past the point of saving.

Your heart sank as you realized what happened, but you couldn't move an inch, fear creeping in as you held your breath. Should you be next you know for sure there was no getting away, terror kept you frozen in place even if your head screamed at you to run to Alice's side and protect what's left of Arthur's family.

Whilst you were caught in the throes of your own thoughts, someone emerged from the once dead portals, followed along by a whispy shadow coming inside Ellie's bleeding body.

The moments, since then, passed by in a flash. You snapped yourself out of your trance and immediately went to setting up a barrier, no matter how feeble it might be as the blonde man fought against the pantheon, matching blows by blows with relative ease.

There was a hope of winning. Your heart flutters at the thought, but it's quickly squashed when you feel the tremor quaking from beneath the ground, threatening to split apart the cave. With desperation did you summon forth a barrier, hoping desperately to keep the people safe with the remaining reserves you had. You barely used any in trying to hold off the pantheon, this was the least you could do for them.

As the people began to pick themselves up from the assault and the damages they had incurred as a result, you fell to your knees and remained seated on the ground.

You take the moment to rest, gathering your scattered energy.

Life was hard without Arthur Leywin.

"Are you alright?"

You blink your eyes open when you hear someone approaching your stature. Tilting your head up, your breath hitches when you catch sight of the approaching figure.

He was breathtaking.

Long wheat coloured hair that cascaded down his shoulders like waterfalls, mesmerizing amber hues that seemed to pierce through your own eyes, coupled with a lean physique and a skin free from any scars and blemishes—as if they had never been affected by the consequences of war.

Ethereal.

It was a word you thought of when your eyes first bore witness to this man.

But he was not Arthur Leywin.

Or was he?

He kneels down in front of you, lowering himself to be at eye level with you. You question his actions, but you don't say a word, allowing him to wordlessly close the distance.

His eyes flit over your figure, scanning your body, wincing with every injury he saw littering your skin.

You freeze. There's a certain familiarity to him that makes you halt in your tracks, makes you let your guard down and trust his intentions.

A hand goes up to cup your cheek, thumb brushing against the scratch you obtained after narrowly dodging the Asura's spear. His eyes narrow as he zeroes in on the scratch, his hold quivering as he takes in your frazzled state.

"What happened to you?" He asks, swallowing thickly. His lips curl into a frown, but he forces it to become a smile, resulting in an awkward face instead. "You look horrible."

His voice is soft. Barely even a whisper. It's as if he's choking back a sob, it's as if he's known you for so long and hated seeing you in this state.

Your voice catches in your throat. Eyes growing wide as you take in his features. He's far from identical—he has blonde hair instead of the messy auburn of his mother, he didn't hold those mesmerizing azure eyes that assured you everything would be alright, in its place were amber eyes hardened after years of trials. It didn't hold the promise that your Arthur tried to uphold, but it held the resolve of someone who clawed through trials, the desperation of a man who longer to protect those he loved against forces he knew were much too powerful.

Your breath caught. The world around you—the crumbling stones, the groaning earth, the distant cries—they all faded into static. Into white noise. All you could hear was the pounding of your heartbeat and the quiet inhale of the man kneeling in front of you.

He looked far from the man you knew.

But he was also so impossibly familiar.

"Arthur...?" Your voice leaves your lips in a broken whisper.

He gives you a wry smile. It's tired, it's scared, but nonetheless comforting. The perfection you immediately associated with this man falls apart. Though no scars marred his skin, ghosts of the challenges he's gone through reflected in his hues, there's a faint curl on his lips that doesn't really change into a smile, as if set in a never changing frown.

His shoulders quiver, heavy from the weight of everything he's lost and everything he would continue to lose if he couldn't pick himself back up.

Tears cascade down your cheeks as you take in his figure. It's unlike, but it's so him as well that there was no mistaking him.

One exhale, and then two, you raise a trembling hand to cradle his face. Brushing away a stray strand behind his ear, another tear falls.

"Arthur." You repeat, trying to ground yourself. Was this reality, or simply your delusion fueling your thoughts?

"Yes?"

You gasp. Your lungs squeeze, contracting, breathing becomes difficult as you process his presence.

So many questions. Why? Is it really you? Why did you leave? How did you return? Why have you come back? Why do you look so different? So many confessions. I love you, thank god you're back. I miss you. I hate you for all the months you left me alone. I despise the way you had to leave. I'm sorry.

So many words you wanted to say. But all you manage to croak out is a tearful:

"Welcome back."

And that's enough. Even if you can't say everything you mean to say, it's enough. Arthur chuckles, but even that is weak.

"I'm sorry, did you wait long?"

"You already know the answer to that."

You lunge yourself at him, arms wrapped around his neck and your face buried against his chest. Sobs wrack your chest, sniffles leaving one after the other as you process his return and the fear that you've kept contained ever since his supposed death.

You don't have the strength to ask, and you only wish to bask in his scent. He understands, and so he keeps you close, wraps his arms around you and keeps you pressed against his chest. His hand brushes your hair, giving it gentle strokes as you continue to weep in his arms.

He's real. Tangible. There. You feel his warmth, hear his heart's rhythm, he's here. He's here and so you allow yourself to cry.

He doesn't say anything, doesn't want to. His voice would definitely crack if he did, he'd find himself acting too vulnerable if he did. You always did have this effect on him. Somehow, someway, you piece back his humanity.

So he holds you tighter, as if anchoring himself to the one thing in this world that doesn’t ask anything of him but to be. Not a king. Not a savior. Not a weapon. Just Arthur.

His hold on you never wavers, he refuses to let go. As you lull yourself into a sleep brought on by exhaustion, relief, and terror all at once, he smiles softly.

He presses a chaste kiss on the crown of your head. He can't promise you safety, even if he wishes he could, there's no denying the fearsome strength of the enemies he'd have to battle from here on out. He can't promise you safety, but he vows that he'll get stronger for everyone's sake.

For a future brighter than now. For a future where you can smile without the worry of the next day staining your momentary joy. If not for the world's sake, then for yours.

Be the change you want to be or however the saying goes. If no one's gonna supply me with tbate fanfics then I'll do it myself💔💔

[cuntstable]

the revenant is definitely the funniest character btw like i love how she looks like the standard fromsoft whispy ethereal doll woman but shes like fully just We need to beat people to death with hammers from the jump. its like if ranni (who is still my number one! always!) dropped the detached & mysterious acts and just started rageposting. also i love that she had a butler thats so funny too

[serra-coining]

A flag to represent the entire genre of horror, in every media possible.

Available for fans of horror / horror genre fanatics, enjoyers of horror media, horror content creators and so on.

How does this flag embody the horror genre?

The flag utilising the dark and the moon pays homage to our ancestral fear of the unknown within the dark.

the moon is dotted in a way that is so close to triggering trypophobia, a fear often used as a horror trope like body horror and parasites, but it just manages to avoid doing so.

The whispy nature of the clouds is remeniscent of spiritual or supernatural horror media as well as creature feature or monster horror with the jaw and fang shapes of the clouds.

The lack of stars evokes planetary cosmic horror.

The metal webbing is designed very veiny but also very sharp like thorns, it's extremely unsettling and together with the blood pools they almost resemble lungs.

the blood and veins are a referenceing the horror of being consumed alive or the gore thats often used in much more violent media.

the blood and metal webbing may also evoke imagery of trees, resembling the classic camping tropes in horror media.

All this combined also gives a very camp and different feeling which is a very well loved part of horror.

Description assistance from @writingbrainrot who says, quote:

" in summary: 10000/10 piece of art, I hate this, makes me nauseous but it's so fucking ethereal and pretty and so well made but good lord i am so fucking uncomfortable and body is full on shuddering."

Tagging:

@sanguinaryfreaks / @kennedy-coining, @hewasanamericangirl and @horror-archive

Slight alt versions:

Endos, radqueers and transx dni, blocking freely.

Requests open as of post

[atomic-lullaby]

see the thing is god is not a whispy ethereal wraithlike thing he does not float he does not fade into mist you cannot see through him and he does not radiate a gentle glow like they tell you like they show you like the priest preaches every day in a strained and tinny voice as he tries to convince himself just as desperately as he tries to convince you no this is not so rather god is a painfully physical thing made of hands and arms and hands and hands and HANDS and he grabs and crushes and decimates indiscriminately and unavoidably and despite being composed of something so human it is a mockery nigh imperceptible for it so constantly shifts and changes and it has hands where there should not be hands there are so many hands and they seek to destroy you in their vice-like fists for a reason neither you nor it understands

[just-mushroom-thoughts]

I'm working on something and need to solve something.

What separates lust-focused normal devils and the cubi? vs what traits they share.

right now I generally have the idea that devils exist physically, if basically just walking mounds of magic forming a puppet-body of meat, in the world at all times. They are a race. Haven't fully figured out their biology yet past that they don't really have one and they're made of like. SPAM. on the inside.

Cubi go into peoples dreams when they're sleeping and have sexy fun times that results in them eating their soul. Devil's don't do that, they don't eat souls, and they can't enter dreams. I don't know what they eat, but it's not souls.

so like... are cubi less "real" than devils" and are mostly a metaphysical dream entity? if a cubus manifests in the physical world could you tell by looking at it that that's what it was? can they just appear as anything?

Ah, these are interesting thoughts,

The big difference between cubi and other fiends, is, as you've correctly identified, consumption. Cubi FEED on lust, using your lust to feed themself, as well as to access your soul,

Other fiends feed less directly on your corruption, as for identification, cubi are ultimatly fluid in their looks. They are always attractive, but as attractive is subjective, so is their appearance, when thwy take Phisical form, its realistically more like 75-90% Real, causing their form to be based on the Desire of the observer, other fiends will be based on what they are, as cubi are just one subspecie of devil, but generally, cubi tails tend to be slimmer, and more agile, their wings tend towards being more whispy, almost ethereal, cubi often dont have horns, and their skin can be any natural humanoid hue,

The easiest way to Identify a cubis, is by their victem, see, with other lust based fiends, the end goal is corruption, desolation, lust is only Part of the equation, yes they use lust mainly but they dont exlusivly use it,

Cubi, on the other hand, lust is the end goal, victims of cubi arnt likely to have died in any way other than exhaustion, other feinds after a Soul is corrupted, need to get it out. Most often, violently, cubi are able to extract the soul slowly through lustful acts, leading to victims being more exhausted, drained, and sickly,

Rarely, a cubi victim will have enough stamina to survive the soul extraction process, leaving a souless husk behind, living but without a Soul, without purpose other than that the cubis demands, creating a thrall, cubi thralls can, Rarely develop into stronger creatures, but most are barley living bodies cubi use to act covertly.

If asked i will gladly talk more about thralls, both cubi and others

As a final peice for this topic here,

The difference between incubi and sucubi

The difference, contrary to popular belief, is Not sex, but hunting stratigy, (as an aside, cubi can and often do swap between the two over their life cycle)

The incubus hunting strategy is more, active, more domineering. Their chosen prey tends towards being submissive and open, and incubi often have a vaneer of taking what they want, though all cubi, like most demons, cant do anything without permission

The succubus strategy opposes the incubus, being more submissive, not necessarily more passive,

[that1badassbitch]

He sounded hoarse, was the first thing Tim noticed. Not like a smoker, or like the Bat Growl, more like he was thirsty or had a sore throat. More importantly, he didn't look upset or hostile at Tim's presence, just a bit surprised.

He'd blame the delay in response on his exhaustion. "Where is 'here'?"

The boy shrugged under his blanket. "It's kind of Nowhere. An in-between."

"And, who are you?"

"I'm..." He paused, looking unfocused for a long moment, then nodded slightly. "I'm Danny."

That... felt strange. A somewhat ethereal being, humanoid but also obviously Other, going by a common American name. Though it might have been picked to make him more comfortable, like the humanoid form might be an illusion or a disguise.

Anyway. The briefings that Justice League Dark provided- well, the ones that didn't say "don't interact at all, run and wait for a magic user" that is- warned firmly against lying to the sort of beings that would be strong enough to help him.

"I'm looking for someone. I just- need to see the timestream. He must have made ripples or something to show where he went."

The boy nodded slowly, frowning a bit. "I guess that explains half of it. Um. Who are you?"

Ah, right. He had skipped over that. Giving his civilian name was risky, he was fairly sure, but if he was offended by being given a vigilante name he might be even more at risk-

"Red Robin," spoke someone else, and he turned around- he couldn't think too hard about how that worked, when he wasn't really standing- to see an old man. Blue skin, red eyes, one with a jagged scar, a full white beard that reached his belt, purple robes, and instead of legs he had a whispy, billowy tail. "Vigilante of Gotham. Also Timothy Drake-Wayne, and the Third Robin. Most importantly, you are a good man, and one who needs something."

Oh, he hated that he knew who he was. Before he could say anything, though, Danny behind him grumbled, "I hate that you make all these plans and never tell me anything about them."

"Calm yourself, highness." The blue man shifted suddenly, in an instant becoming toddler sized. "You know it would put you at risk if I visited too often, and I know exactly how to prune universes for the best outcomes." He turned his gaze to Tim, who felt uncomfortably seen. "You can call me Clockwork, Red Robin. Overseer of the Timestream."

Which was too convenient to be a coincidence. "I assume you know what I want, then. What do you want for helping me?"

He chuckled, nodding. "I do appreciate the timelines where you are so straightforward. You, of course, want the Batman returned. That is within my power. What I want, in return, is for my King to recover. And for that, you are perfectly suited."

Well. That sounded. Bad. His first thought was that he was being asked to give up his body, or maybe his soul. How else would he be able to heal an extraplanar being? And king? That had some mildly terrifying implications. But he'd already committed himself this far. And Gotham needed Batman. More than it needed him. More than the rest of the Bats needed him. If his death was what it took to get him back, then...

"No." Tim turned back to Danny, a bit startled by the vehemence of that refusal. His voice seemed to echo slightly, even as it rasped, "Don't you dare. If you can't get an honest agreement then I'm not doing it. I'm- I won't force this on anyone."

Clockwork looked at Danny with a sort of pitying sadness. "It's fine," Tim blurted, in case he was actually going to retract his offer. "I'll do it, whatever it is-"

"No!" Danny lurched towards them, his blanket slipping even as he stalled out after just a few feet. "You can't- please, don't- you're exhausted. You look more work out than I am. At- at least sleep first, and hear the whole thing. Don't blindly agree to this. You should know what you're signing up for."

He looked to Clockwork with wild eyes, and the blue being shifted again, this time into a young adult shape. "Of course, highness. Rest would be good for both of you. I will return later to discuss properly."

In a brief flash, he vanished, leaving Tim and Danny in the vague nothing of Nowhere.

Danny didn't look thrilled, but he shuffled his blanket back up to cover his shoulders. "You can take the bed. I don't really need it right now." He nodded to the side, where surely enough, there was a bed.

And Tim... was tired. He was close to a crash, anyway. And he couldn't risk leaving without finding B.

It took a few seconds to figure out how to really move- mostly he had to not think about it- and he settled himself in the bed. He only had a moment to look at Danny's back, and a sort of black-blue white-speckled swirl that appeared in front of the boy, before his brain fully checked out.

Just a little idea

What if when Tim went off to look for Batman when he was lost in time he bumped into Phantom.

They made a Deal

Phantom knowing CW helped him find Bruce and how to get him back safely, Phantom in return for reasons (hurt badly & recovering, or evolving in power) needed someone very ecto-contaminated (Ra's fault) like Tim, to be contained in.

From a magic user point of view, knowing very little of the GZ and how they work, Tim made a very powerful Deal with a powerful death being (High Ghost King Phantom: Hello!) and is now somehow pregnant (not really but they don't know that)

Danny while inside Tim inside his core can still hear the world outside normally and can share his emotions with Tim to communicate. Which looks a lot like Tim is speaking to his belly just like expecting parents do.

This could be angst or crack

or

my personal favourite, different genres for different pov's

Tim's would be happy, just regular getting his life back together being a total BAMF, coming of age type of vibe

The rest of the Batfam and other heroes pov would be angst, paranormal, psychological horror.

Misunderstandings galore

Dick regretting heavily his decisions which caused Tim to run away because he did not believe him and he has many Regrets.

Bruce feeling guilty that Tim felt the need to make such a decision as to make a Deal and end up pregnant just to bring him back.

Meanwhile the magic users have told the other heroes about Tim's situation and now think that he's going to give birth to the child of a very powerful death being and if something happens to Tim to risk the baby it would cause all of their worlds destruction.

so pretty much-

Tim-Girl Boss, Gatekeep, Gaslight

Batfam- Much Angst

Others- *panicked chicken noises*

~

Just an Idea

[void-tiger]

Whoever designed Padme’s outfits (and the handmaidens’ robes) apparently lives rent-free in my brain alongside Pirate King! Elizabeth Swann.

[itsjustdesire]

Tour

Anticipation lingers amongst the colossal crowd, as mist pours over the barely lit stage. Though he has yet to appear, they wait for him; lights blinking, as well as flickering all around the stadium, an open space of excited bodies, and motionless, buzzing equipment.

Then, with clenched fists, there he stands, fixed, confident and tenacious; intensely staring out into the crowd of screaming fans; His dancers posted up next to him, awaiting their queue. Though his pause is unwavering and sustained, the fans are submissive. His presence alone creates solace for them in an unrelenting, menacing society; a world existing outside the boundaries of the show.

Then in an instant and without warning, BAM

The show begins

His fist punches out as music starts thumping, blaring through bulky speakers. The heavy, booming bass activates the audience, while the synchronized motion of him and the dancers' cuts through the misty smoke that envelops the stage.

The admirers are intoxicated, their souls launched into the sprightly performance, eyes glistening from the flashes that emanate from the glitzy, prismatic stage lights that illuminate the vast darkness of the abounding field.

His face is drenched in sweat that slides and drips from his chiseled jaw the more demanding his dancing becomes; Curls damp and thick, bouncing as he jumps and hops to an upbeat, pulsating tune or dangling from atop his forehead as he passionately sings a pensive and fanciful ballad. Wavy rivers of swirly, twisted and coiled tresses; deep ebony and medium length, tucked delicately behind his ears at times, or wild, free and unassuming in others, draping across his shoulders and cradling the back of his neck; his baby hairs slicked down, adhering to the tip of his forehead, down to the sides of his sculpted profile.

Hands burly and strong, with tender, elongated fingers, tightly clutching the microphone; never letting go until he props it up atop the mic-stand.

The light, shimmering material of his sparkly, silver jacket sticks to his chest, arms and torso, while his smooth and velvety black slacks that touch ever so slightly above his feet, hug to his whispy legs. With studded, leather straps that cling to his thighs, wrapping around his lower half.

The slim and tight, strong yet delicate nature of his slender body is quite evident, the lustrous top creating ripples in the material as he bends and dips; the bottom, rigidly grasping his taut derrière

Hips swinging from side to side, back and forth as his shiny, sterling silver belt pops with each thrust of his pelvis, initiating exciting momentum among the ocean of spectators

More agile than the most graceful ballet dancer, his durable, swift feet slide and glide smoothly across the surface of the stage; the torn, stretched, vintage leather of his Florsheim loafers cradling comfortably to each foot as he stomps, jumps, and shimmies across and atop the smooth, hardened surface

Face focused, jaw clenched, eyes sparkling and sometimes intense, eyelids shut tightly and lips curled and wide as he sings each and every note with ease. 

The fluttering, stuttering, stammering, fleeting, joyous, and enticing confessions, exclamations and manifestos of his voice, serenading the patient, loving and watchful eyes of his audience. 

His sweet, sensual vibrato seducing the minds, bodies and souls of the fans.

Whether he peers out into the wide, screaming, crying, pleading sea of his most beloved and loyal ; or gazes up towards the heavens, as him and the god of all creation become one, he's at peace.

Onstage, He's home.

The ethereal space; his convivial place

During his most alluring ballads, one of the select few is summoned; an exuberant female fan, whose wish is granted if only for a moment, as she shares the stage with her hero, her love.

As the rest of the crowd gawks closely behind her

Some yearning to be in her place; others exuberant that one of their own has been called up by the king, her eyes widen as she listlessly jaunts towards him, his arms spread out ever so slightly, welcoming her into a tender embrace. His luminous, broad and cheeky grin, causes her to melt in his assuring grasp.

He utters the melodic words so elegantly, yet distinctly in her ear.

Her eyes engulfed in tears, she feels copious amounts of utter bliss

And her heart flutters as her and the enticing angel become one, swaying from side to side, holding onto each other firmly

In that moment, though it is evident that his attention is cast on everyone, to her this wispy, fluttering ballad is all about her. It's dedicated to her

Only her, and no one else as in that uninterrupted moment, He has her heart and she has his.

This is the grandest form of ecstasy that she's ever felt in existence.

For a moment, her fantasy had become a gratifying, enchanting reality before she is ushered away from him. And although her time with him comes to an unwarranted end, she's satisfied.

Satisfied with the fact that she was near him,

With her body pressed up against his while he serenaded her

She has experienced heightened exuberance

Forever dreaming of the short time she shared with him, experiencing his aura.

The fans

His most cherished family

They adore him; live and breathe him

He's as essential to them as the air in their lungs

Hearts racing and pounding briskly for him

Tears flowing from glistening and intense eyes, with faces twisted and sobbing, which show just how much he means to them

Chanting his name, screaming exclamations of adulation, devotion and yearning

A roaring crowd that's full of life, giving their undivided attentions to him.

Whether wild, and erratic, shouting their hearts out and fainting, or calm, complacent and in awe, they react to him

To every jolt of his body 

To every whimsical stammer of his voice

For them, it isn't merely a show

It's an escape

A promising ray of light in a bleak, merciless world

A rainbow, daintily permeating through the jilted darkness.

[evilminji]

I bet he answers summons in that hat. You have to compliment it first.

It's like a flower crown made out of rusted staples and bone fragments. They all volunteered what THEY thought would Look Nice(tm) as additions because they knew he values that VERY highly. So there are shiny rocks and bent antique forks, keychain toys, glowing flowers, part of a burned wooden flute, and pieces of an alien heavy metal band's debut poster.

And stickers. They all have found MUCH joy in the diversity of stickers.

All on top of this delicate, almost whispy, flowing Child Made Of Starlight. Like? As king, his ghost form gets more and more... ETHEREAL. Can he still bench press a planet? Yes. But he LOOKS like a delicate waif.

Floating around like a jellyfish made out of stars. Layered cosmos cape showing different parts of the universe, which falls in a way reminiscent of flowerpetals stacked together.

Then you look up, past this glowing impish, kind and compassionate face... to the SINGLE most jarring and ugly headdress in history. It looks sacrilegious, on his head. Like its... it's DEFACING something.

You want to burn it with fire.

But DO Not. Do NOT insult THE HAT. His legions of children made him that hat.

Legions you may ask? Is he that old? No. He is compassionate and by all account DEEPLY insane. He defeated his predecessor... then ADOPTED his predecessors Army. All of them.

Yes that means they are Princes. Princesses too. If you are not EXTREMELY careful with your summons... well...

You do get A Royal. *wrathful Bone Noises*

Skeleton Invasion

Pariah's castle was boring, and since Danny had inherited it he hadn't really done anything with it, although he felt a little bad for the skeleton soldiers (even though he wasn't sure they actually had a personality, they always acted the same).

So he sent them on missions around the universes. They would probably cause a bit of chaos but they were the best option to investigate, since they couldn't die.

When one of them found many cracks to the Realms, he informed Danny immediately, and Danny sent more skeletons, just to be on the safe side.

Unbeknownst to him, the young King had caused panic in the DC universe. The Justice League wasn't sure what to make of the skeleton invasion (technically they weren't doing harm, they seemed to be wandering around and looking for something), it became a problem when they discovered what they were looking for.

Lazarus pits, the skeleton army was looking for Lazarus pits (Batman wondered if the skeleton's "master" wanted to use the pits), looking on in dismay, the League prepared for an impending invasion.

Though none of them expected a teenager emerging from a portal and congratulating the skeletons. What?

[rockheadcd]

@electrivolt​ said: Warm smile like a sun on its own turned so sharp, twisted beyond recognition, into something wicked and just— evil. Right as fingers curled into claws, hair whispy like ethereal, ghastly fur, and the eyes— that malicious glint was so wrong, it didn't belong there even before those soft and gentle eyes turned golden.

You were such a fool, falling for this mockery, this false image as if it was truly the only thing that could keep you alive.

Why are you even trying when you can't find anything worth enough to keep on living? Why don't you just give up?

The freezing snow your mauled corpse will be buried under is the only place where you could truly belong. He didn't want to see you come back.

“Just give up. I never wanted dead weight like you in my life, anyway."

The claws sinking into flesh don't register as much as those words do. Don't hurt as much either. They don't hurt as much as those cold eyes and cruel grin with sharp fangs splitting apart as the claws dig in deeper and deeper and then—

Someone is there when he wakes up, eyes wide, heart trying to claw its way out of his chest and air refusing to stay in his lungs.

All he catches sight of is darker hair and those eyes in the middle of the night— and Volkner just... something in his mind still buried within that nightmare cracks.

"S-stay away— just—" the only clear thing in that moment is the sheer, raw panic in his voice, eyes as wide as they are unfocused, struggling to even make a coherent attempt at breathing any more, a kick on instinct to get the threat away from him. His skin feels so cold, maybe he is still in that frozen wasteland as that thing mocks him and revels in what amounts to years of suffering, the result of relentless loneliness upon loneliness that was nothing more than a feast for that vile specter. "J-just— stay away from m-me— wasn't that enough—?!"

It truly wouldn't be satisfied until it'll take everything from him, right? Until there is only a shell it can sink fangs into and move on like he was nothing, to leave when it was finally bored of this dead prey it found.

This was never going to end, was it? Not until he was dead. Until there was nothing left for this thing to pick through so carelessly. Not until it was satisfied with his torment.

"J-just— just get it over with already—! T-that's what you want, r-right—?! So just—" just stop this, please stop using him like that, please stop reminding that he's not here, that all that's awaiting him is a desolate end where no one will ever care enough to even remember his name.

"J-just... s-stop..." Please.

He misses him too much to keep going like this— / is it a dream or is it reality or is it both. | closed.

Volkner wasn’t the kind of person to thrash in his sleep, he learned rather quickly. From the day the other gym leader had so backwardly asked him to stay close, Roark didn’t hesitate. They were comfortable, comforted. Mere presence alone was powerful and singular touch was even more so--understandable, seeing as they were both starved individuals.

So they fell into the habit all too easily--and Roark was surprised how little time it took to adjust, even all the way out here in Sunyshore, this time at least forewarning his leads that if he was back any time within the week, it was a surprise for him as well. It’d had been going.. somewhat okay, aside from the worry. Volkner had never been this vulnerable before.

He probably should have known better when his first reaction to waking up to the other’s panicked voice than to reach out and try to touch him.

“Volk..? Volk, what are you talking about?” came a lazy voice, followed by several blinks as he’d wipe the sleep from his eyes--moments later does he realize something is terribly wrong and all engines fire on panic mode. Volkner’s hyperventilating and he doesn’t know why. Wrists complain when Roark braces all of his weight to one side before hastily sitting on his knees, fretting.

“--It’s me, hey.. Volkner, it’s--”

( just get it over with already )

Oh no, it’s a nightmare.

“--I’m not.. hey..!” Roark tries his best to keep his voice down, but the urgency in his voice still rings out. Even in the darkness, barely illuminated by the light pollution of Sunyshore, he can see the terrified expression on the blond’s face--it twists his chest in worry as he reaches out to bury a hand in his hair, messy between his fingertips. “I’m not Zoroark, it’s okay. It was just a dream. It’s okay--It’s okay, I’ve got you. It’s just me.” He hurriedly looks around for Luxray, soon catching the glint of golden eyes already open and watching in worry, and Roark beckons the feline to come over and soothe his trainer--of course, he doesn’t hesitate, practically headbutting Volkner with much more vigor than Roark is confident enough to muster ( not if he’s being taken as the illusion that haunted him.. ). “It’s okay. You’re home. You’re in Sunyshore.”

[graysongraysoff]

all i’m saying is idk how you can expect me to remain silent about the ways in which hadestown distinguishes orpheus as a Magic Music Boy in a medium where everyone is singing, and furthermore how i can have been expected not to imprint on him like a baby bird,,,,,,,,,,

like i just dk how i’m supposed to live with the fact that he is the only character in “road to hell” who sings upon being introduced!!!!

or how in “come home with me” orpheus not only sings his lines while eurydice’s lines are spoken but his voice is ALSO twined through with these ethereal harmonies, like that’s just what happens when he gets excited?? like don’t you wish an unseen chorus started harmonizing with YOU when you were trying to impress your crush,,,,,,

OR how when he does speak his voice often sounds kind of whispy and thin, like he’s not used to it, or like instead of being nervous about singing in front of other people, the way most people are, he’s more nervous about speaking in front of them??? and even when he is speaking in that little voice of his there’s usually still kind of a musical little uptick to it???

or the innocent pride he takes in his Magical Musical Accomplishments, like he’s a little kid who’s discovered he has a knack for something and not a literal touched-by-the-gods son of a muse who can alter reality with his voice, because this is just how his life is???

“it isn’t finished, yet, but when it’s done, and when i sing it, spring will come again :)”

“i sang a song so beautiful the stones wept, and they let me in :)”

speaking of the stones weeping and letting him in, remember how in “wait for me” the stones sing back to him when he sings That Melody and you get “i hear the walls repeating / the the falling of my feet and / it sounds like drumming / and i am not alone / i hear the rocks and stones / echoing my song” but then in “doubt comes in” NOBODY sings That Melody back to him when he tries it out and it’s just orpheus and his voice and the distant taunting of the fates and you want to lie DOWN on the ground!!!!!!

like just in general the way the world around him responds to his singing is so fascinating to me and it brings me endless joy: there’s the aforementioned part of “wait for me,” and there’s also the part of “wedding song” where he sings That Melody for eurydice and you can hear the world around him opening up, there’s “IF IT’S TRUE” and the “is it true?” part of “chant (reprise)” where he’s basically shaking the denizens of the underworld from an amnesiatic TRANCE like i’m

eurydice has forgotten her own name by the time orpheus finds her but he sings “come home with me?” to her and in a line she is able to sing his name back to him i JUST!!!!!!!!! i will not be SILENCED!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[askkrenko]

Krenko’s Guide to Pokemon: Vulpix Line

Wook at da fwuffy widdle foxxy woxxy! Is so cuuuuuute! 

DESIGN: 

First, I want to talk about Trifox. Trifox was cut from the original game, presumably because they felt they didn’t need an early game version of Vulpix and that mechanically it’d be fine where it was...

But look at this little ball of fiery snuggles! Okay, this is the beta sprite from the original game, so it’s obviously not the best depiction, but you can imagine. 

Okay, moving on, Vulpix is adorable, Trifox would’ve been even more adorable, but considering I’ve ranted about Pichu and Cleffa already, I probably wouldn’t actually appreciate it being added in later. It would’ve probably had base stats in the 200 range and only be interesting if you could catch it before fighting Brock. But Brock’s a rock type and Misty’s water, so... yeah, by the time you’d want it, it’s time for Vulpix already.

Vulpix is adorable. It just is. It’s very clearly doing a Kitsune thing with its six tails, and while it really is just ‘a kitsune,’ the curls in its tail and on its head really set it apart from other depictions. 

Ninetails is more traditional Kitsune, and frankly, googling “Kitsune” finds a lot of pictures that just look like Ninetails with red stripes.  Having a Kitsune Pokemon is great, but I do wish they’d done something to its appearance to distinguish it as they did with Vulpix.  There’s a few pokemon that are just ‘it’s the mythical creature but a pokemon,’ and Ninetails is probably the worst offender here.

Alolan Vulpix is interesting in that its six tails sort of blend into one puffy one. Overall it just looks like a white Vulpix but, well, some foxes are Arctic Foxes and are white.  I don’t know why it lives in Alola (There are no Foxes in Hawaii) but it’s still cute, it’s still Vulpix, but it’s clearly a variant.  

Now, Alolan Ninetails is along the lines of what I wish Ninetails was. You can still clearly see the Kitsune influences, but it has this whispy, ethereal nature and a soft blue coloration suggesting its elemental affinity.  It’s just as beautiful and elegant, but looks even more mysterious, like something you’d see and then question if you actually saw it.

EVOLUTIONS: 

Well, without Trifox in the mix, Vulpix is a two-stage pokemon that evolves with the Fire or Ice stone, depending.  The door’s not really open for an evolved Ninetails, as that’d be too weird with it’s Kitsune theme, but Mega or G-Max Ninetails is on the table.   Here’s an idea: a Mega form that’s Fire/Ice type and can come from either Ninetails.

And Trifox could still show up in a later game. They’d probably do something stupid with incense, though, wheras what I’d like them to do is just drop Trifox down on Route 1 or whatever so it can Ember its way through all the bug catchers if you decided to start with the Grass Type. Then evolve early at like level 16.

TYPING: 

Being pure fire type is fine, with six resistances and only three weaknesses, but offensive coverage is only four types. Also, weakness to Ground and Rock can be problematic, as Earthquake and Stealth Rock are major players in tournaments. 

Alolan Ninetails, as a Fairy/Ice type, has four weaknesses (including a double weakness to Steel), three resistances, and an immunity to Dragon type. All in all, it’s fine. Offensively, it hits six types with super effective moves, though Fire and Steel resist both of its types.  STATS: 

Both Ninetails and Alolan Ninetails have 505 total stats, with their best stats being Speed and Special Defense.  Alolan Ninetails is the faster of the two, but Ninetails has a Physical attack comparable to its special attack, while Alolan Ninetails has a much weaker Physical Attack. Still... neither attack stat is very strong. 

ABILITIES: 

Ninetails and Alolan Ninetails have garbage regular abilities. Flash Fire changes Ninetails’ Fire Resistance into Fire Immunity and makes it do additional damage after being hit by a fire attack... But if something’s hitting you with a fire attack, there’s a reasonable chance its fire type and thus also resistant to your fire attacks.

Snow Cloak gives Alolan Ninetails 20% evasion during Hail, which requires something to set up hail, and even then only has a chance of working, and it’s an unreliable defensive ability on a pokemon that’s not exactly ‘tank’ material.

But their Hidden Abilities are Drought and Snow Warning.

Here’s the thing about Drought, Snow Warning, Drizzle, and Sand Stream: If you have them, you’re a good pokemon. Full stop.  It doesn’t matter what your other stats and abilities are, as long as they’re not complete garbage. If you can set the weather by switching in, you’re a valuable member of the team. 

Ninetails can set Sunny Day upon switching in. Alolan Ninetails can set Hail upon switching in. That’s it. That’s all they need. They’re both usable. MOVES:  In theory, Ninetails can be set up as a Physical attacker or a Special Attacker, but its only Physical attacks of note are Flare Blitz and Zen Headbutt. They’re not the worst, but its Special lineup is much stronger.

For special attacks, Ninetails gets Flamethrower, Fireblast, Overheat, Weather Ball, Dark Pulse, Extrasensory, Scorching Sands, and most importantly, Solar Beam. Ninetails is a fully self contained Sunny Beamer.  And what’s Solar Beam good against?  Ground, Rock, and Water, all THREE of Ninetails’ weaknesses! 

And if you have a moment to set up, Ninetails can learn Nasty Plot, too.  Despite a relatively mediocre Special Attack stat of 81, Ninetails can blast hard.

Unfortunately, that’s sort of where Ninetails’ ability ends.  Nasty Plot, Solar Beam, Weather Ball, and... maybe Scorching Sands because Fire types resist Grass and Fire.  If an enemy gets rid of the Drought, just switch out Ninetails and bring it back later. A Heat Rock is your friend here, but so is anything that just lets Ninetails do more damage.  Another option for a fourth move is Will-O-Wisp. It’ll allow Ninetails to damage things with huge special defense, and reduce the damage from an opponent’s physical moves, severely weakening a lot of pokemon.

Alolan Ninetails’ Snow Warning summons Hail rather than creating Sun, which makes for an entirely different style of moves.  Alolan Ninetails’ super special awesome move is called Aurora Veil, an ability that halves all incoming damage to your whole team, but only works when Hail is up. If Hail ends, Aurora Veil does not, so rather than worrying about the Icy Rock, Alolan Ninetails wants Light Clay to increase Aurora Veil’s duration.

Alolan Ninetails can learn Nasty Plot, if it’d like, and once Aurora Veil is up it might even have time to abuse it, but that would be a two-turn setup, giving the opponent ample time to switch in something with a Steel move.

Alolan Ninetails’ best Fairy attack is Moonblast, but that can be a bit difficult to get as it’s an Egg move, but Sword and Shield made that much easier to pull off.  Its best Ice attack is Blizzard. The normal drawback of Blizzard, low accuracy, is ignored during Hail.  Depending on your team, your Alolan Ninetails may want Freeze-Dry for coverage against Water pokemon. It’s another egg move which would be mutually exclusive with Moonblast if SwSh didn’t change how egg moves work.

OVERALL:  Kantonian Ninetails has Drought with Solar Beam and Fire Moves. Alolan Ninetails has Snow Warning with Aurora Veil and Blizzard. They’re full-package weather pokemon as long as you get the hidden ability.  Everything else is secondary. When a pokemon has a good ability and the moves and stats to work with it, it can be magic, and Ninetails has all the moves that Drought and Snow Warning could want.