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genshingarbage · 3 years

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Don’t Say Goodbye. || One-Shots ||

I am just in a mood to create broken hearts right now it would appear, this is just a few one-shots on a couple of the boys and my take on how they would act with there s/o dying in their arms due to various reasons based on the character i am writing for. - Mod Diluc

Diluc

The sound of yells grew distant as the vision began to blur from your eyes. The only sensation you could still feel was the tight grasp of your hand in the larger one wrapped round it squeezing it. Diluc was holding you as you laid there on the muddy dirt, resting your bloody and broken body on his legs. Cradling you like a new born while shaking back and forth, trembling in traumatic disbelief over what was taking place before him.

His eyes were swelling with tears threatening to break out and spill down his cheeks, he kept kissing your weak hand gently, each kiss being dragged out longer than the one before, shaky shushes passing his lips in a frail attempt to soothe your weakening body. You'd been adventuring alone again for several weeks away from Mondstat and The Dawn Winery.

You didn't think much of it as you often left for long adventuring trips, bringing back goofy and silly souvenirs for your beloved Diluc, you just didn't realise this time around you'd be ambushed by the Fatui on your long trek back to his winery. Having been unbeknownst to you fatally wounded, you managed to break free and escape, bleeding heavily from your right side, shakily sprinting to the only place you knew could be a safe haven, Dilucs winery.

You'd fallen to the ground in a crumpled heap not barely a few seconds after Diluc spotting you running down the dusty and dirty road. He sprinted to you eyes wide yelling as loud as his vocal chords would physically let him. "Y/N! No!" He skidded and slumped down into the dirt himself, tugging you carefully but quickly into his lap muttering 'No' over and over in rapid breaths. And now you were where you were at, the life slowly but surely leaving you while all you could feel was Dilucs gentle kissing lips and warming embrace.

Does he know how much you love him? Did ever know how much he meant to you? Oh no... the souvenir you'd found for him... you dropped it back when you was ambushed... he would've loved it so much... however likewise with him to you, did you know how much you meant to him? How truly happy he was that he'd finally found someone he could trust and give his life to. Had he ever even said he loves you back? All these questions that were going to be left unanswered to the both of you.

Still trembling he watched as your light dimmed in your eyes, leaning his head down he softly placed a kiss against your unresponsive lips, parting ever so slightly to rest his forehead against yours and whimpering in a broken tone. "I love you, Y/N" When he lifted his head back up he felt the air being squeezed out of his lungs to see your eyes were now closed and there was no longer movement in your body.

He looked up at the night sky, the stars twinkling so beautifully over such a devastating and tragic moment. Closing his eyes he silently prayed the gods take good care of you up there till he can finally be there with you. Lifting up slowly with your now lifeless body bridal style in his arms he began to walk back to his winery, his expression stern and showing no pain. But it was all a facade for inside he was crying and screaming to the heavens and hell for having let this happen to you.

"They will pay Y/N, I promise you. I'll see you again soon; someday."

Childe

The rain was pouring heavily, hitting angrily against the cold hard concrete, the drops splashing up and back down as they landed with such impact. You were wet and cold, but your body had been going numb for minutes now as the blood was leaving your body so quickly. You shakily looked round to see the last attacker being cut down to the floor by your one and only love, Ajax.

The unknown man's body hadn't even hit the floor by the time Ajax had thrown his weapons down and rushed to your side. "Oi oi, come on now, look alive. More will be coming soon." He let out a nervous laugh not wanting to believe what he was seeing in front of him right now. You'd only gone out for a little drink and joke about in the beautiful rainy day, you both enjoyed running around in the rain so much after all. He tapped your cheek gently trying to keep you conscious as he could see your focus leaving you as fast as your blood was.

He pressed his hand against the open wound in your chest; a pitiful attempt to try slow the bleeding. You cursed yourself for not being more alert of your surroundings when that man crept up behind you and ambushed you by surprise. He shook his head vigorously side to side. His mask hiding most of the unbearable pain behind it. He should've known better than to think it was safe to come back to Liyue so soon after having caused such chaos.

Why the fuck did they have to go for you both though, you were innocent from all this it was him they wanted so why, why?! Why you?! He made a soft 'Tsk' sound from his mouth as he choked back the tears while looking at you. You had little vision left, little time too, but with what little strength you had remaining you lifted your hand up gently and pulled his mask off. Wanting to see his face one last time before you're gone from this world.

Exposing his damp cheeks and red eyes to you, you were able to form the smallest smile at him. "Don't... d-don't leave me Y/N, please..." his voice was barely a whisper now as he remained stiff by your side. "I won't..." You coughed back gently, you didn't even try to sound believable with that; you both knew it was a lie and you were on your way out with only seconds to spare.

You were his everything, he knew you was too good for him from the very beginning, yet you was determined to always be by his side. He knew he was a bad guy, a villain, but with you by his side he was able to feel like someone's hero. You meant fucking everything to him so why did someone so pure have to be taken so soon. You coughed gently once more before choosing your last words carefully, knowing they were to be your last.

"Childe- Ajax, you're not a bad guy. I have and will always love you..." Your voice faded into a whisper and then... nothing. Your eyes closed and your hand that had been against his cheek was now limp, the only reason it was still in its prior place was because Childe himself had been applying slight pressure to keep it there. You were gone now, at rest and probably somewhere much better and further away from this hell.

He looked at your resting face just wishing you'd open your eyes again and say it was all just a big terrible joke. But that wasn't the case, however his broken and torn expression immediately dissolved when he heard the rapid steps growing louder. "There he is! Apprehend him now!" One of the guards shouted to the several others. He quietly apologised to your resting form, letting your hand leave his face and finally rest with the rest of your body, he was also sorry as he wasn't gonna be able to give you the burial you deserved, he wasn't gonna be able to use that ring he'd bought you to propose with, and unknowing to him, you wasn't gonna be able to tell him the good news that he would've been a dad.

He lifted up slowly, hair now soaked and water droplets falling from all over his body. The blood leaving your body had began to swirl and dance with the water pooling against the concrete as the heavy rain showed no signs of slowing down. His mask back in his hand before it found its way back on his face, turning and stepping over to his slung down blades and kicking them up into the air grabbing them. Parting his knees swiftly and getting into his battle ready stance. The mask made him look like the bad guy every one claimed him to be, but underneath was the most broken and tormented boy that they'll never know.

"I'll always love you too Y/N, I am sorry but you're wrong, I've always been a bad guy, I just... I tried to be a better one for you."

Xiao

The sky was ablaze, organe and yellow flickering all over, ember floating up and down softly. It was so hot; unbearably so as you were laying on the wooden floor of the top balcony at the Wangshu Inn, blood spilling out of you and soaking the wood all around you. The fire was growing dangerously closer, but did it matter now? You would be dead in a couple more minutes away.

Had everyone escaped the Inn at least? Was everyone safe? You hoped they were. But it was then you felt an instant gust of cold wind wail past you like a roaring monster and die down the flames that had been encircling you and drawing ever so closer. Your vision was nearly gone and it was hard to make out anything except the smoke and fire, but those blue oni mask eyes were unmistakable, Xiao was above you right now.

His hand was hovering over your cheek, still scared that even now he may cause you more pain than comfort in your fleeting moments. "Y/N wake up. Don't be defeated so easily, this is truly pathetic, even for your standards." Harsh words as always, you knew he was sad and just lashing out, his words were cracking and his voice was wavering in its tone. Was that a sniffle? It was hard to make out among the crackling fire destroying the walls and wood around you and his mask muttering and muffling his already quiet words.

Why did they go for you? They wanted him to become nothing anymore, to just slip away and leave the entire history of Liyue to them. Leave the nation built under Rex Lapis to the incapable feeble hands of mortals. He couldn't ever allow that, he refused to back down so easily. But this? Surprise attacking the Inn and burning it down while taking the only mortal who held something to him away? How sick and lowly of them.

You went to speak but all you could muster was a cough as blood spat out your mouth across your bottom lip, your time was fading fast. He swallowed down and removed his mask, a shake in his hand as he did so, resting his proper gaze on your form one last time, allowing you to see him in his first ever vulnerable state, tears slowly falling from his face, letting his hand slide across your cheek gently, swiping the blood off your soft delicate lip. Why did it hurt him so bad? Why was this reaching so deep within him?

All those times he'd sighed and disappeared to get away from you, all those eye-rolls to your silly jokes and huffs to your tedious and pointless tasks. Why did he feel an ache in his throat when he thought about how he won't ever get to experience those annoying moments again? What was this? It couldn't be. Had he truly fallen in love with a mortal? Impossible, but what else could explain this gut wrenching feeling he had swirling inside him.

Everything was crumbling apart around him but his focus remained on you as you looked at him with those eyes, those same eyes that often stared at him with hope and admiration, now they stared with soft kindness and fleeting wishes. If this was love then he wasn't ready to have it taken from him so soon, but what could he do except watch as you left this world. He gritted his teeth together and his hand clenched tightly round his blood stained spear. This was truly unforgivable. If only he had killed those monsters sooner, got to you quicker... maybe then he could've saved you.

"I..." he began to stutter gentle words out while stroking his thumb delicately across your cheek, why hadn't he just swallowed his pride and touched you sooner? Why hadn't he just admitted this to himself quicker and embraced you. You had always been there for him despite his many harsh rejections, you were nothing but kind and truthful, loyal and honest to him and now? He resented himself for not having taken the chance to love that he had had in his grip for so long. Your vision was gone now and your ears were following quickly behind. "I... Y/N..."

Just spit it out already, before the time runs out for you- "Y/N I love you..." he looked at your face searching for a response but you were gone now. The gods had given you all the time they could spare and unfortunately it wasn't long enough to Xiao. It wasn't fair. He couldn't even let you know how he truly felt before you were ripped from him. Tears rolled down his face faster now, but the sorrow and pain he felt quickly welded into anger and inner rage boiling at the highest temperature.

He frowned deeply, lifting up from your body, hiding his broken expression behind his oni mask once again, shakily breathing in with a deep sigh, the shake in his hands slowly dissolving as his mind set itself onto a new mission, he turned and walked to the banister of the balcony and swiftly lifted up onto the top, looking over the landscape around him as the only place he'd truly ever known as home was burning to ash around him. He turned round taking one last longing look at your lifeless form and then leapt high into the air soaring through the skies, straight for Liyue.

You never wanted this, he knew that, you'd never want him to cause a war over your death, but you wasn't here to talk reason into him anymore. He was never gonna see your annoyingly beautiful face again, and this was all Liyues fault. They had to pay, and if that meant causing a war between humans and Adepti... then so be it.

"Forgive me Y/N, but without you here now, I see no reason to keep caring for these monsters. I'll hope you'll understand when I see you again one day."

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artmakerproductions · 3 years

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“CARMILLA meets DRACULA”, first story outline synopsis draft.

CARMILA meets DRACULA:

�� Out along the English Coast, a property owned by Dracula he had purchased some years prior sets his eyes on a target. A lovely blonde woman, Laura, who happens to have also caught the eye of another vampire, Mircalla, Countess Karnstein, under the alias of Carmilla.

[ — The two vampires having previously met several years prior. Dracula having intruded on her territory of Styria, Austria. Feeding off of the woman in the area pretty much cutting her off her supply of blood. His last victim, a Bertha Rheinfeldt, died from blood loss quicker thanks to both having fed off her. Carmilla is caught while Dracula gets away scott-free having transformed into a small vampire bat and hiding. Escaping out the window while the father of the girl charged at Carmilla. ] - (Not sure if I want to include this).

— Carmilla met Laura years prior, with the two hitting it off and becoming close friends ever since until Carmilla’s departure. For a vacation, they go to England countryside. Visiting London, England for a bit. Laura and her widowed father meet Abraham Van Helsing, an old colleague of Baron Vordenburg, who notes two small marks on her left chest region. Immediately suspecting she’s a victim of vampirism. He sticks close by, much to Carmilla’s displeasure.

— Dracula and Carmilla meet in the streets, initially going after her as a victim before realizing who she is and that she too is a vampire. A brief scuffle between the two occurs w/ Dracula overpowering her this round. He continues his hunt. Carmilla left injured.

— Van Helsing writes to Baron Vordenburg about his meeting of Carmilla, giving a description of the woman and asking if she could possibly be the very same vampire Countess, Mircalla, the Baron had lost sight of years prior due to Dracula having done a similar anagram w/ his name once.

— At a ball sometime later being held at the establishment, the two meet in public. Both sensing what the other is. Dracula asks Laura to a dance. She accepts. Carmilla watches as Dracula gets dangerously close to her neck, caressing it even. As if to allude to what’ll soon happen, taunting her, but the vampress keeps her composure. Laura comments about her far more protective nature all of a sudden.

— Carmilla has a tussle w/ Van Helsing and a Jonathan Harker one night having hidden himself in the room of Mina Murray. Using herself as bait. She flees and confirms Helsing’s suspicions.

— Enroute to England, Dracula encounters the Baron. Giving him a lift into London. On the way, Dracula and Vordenburg also engage in a fight which he retreats from due to the rising sun as it’d weaken him just enough to even out the playing field w/ the mortal.

— All the recent deaths of various woman cause a stir in the community and the eventual realization of the presence of the two vampires.

— Dracula takes Laura hostage and returns to his home w/ Carmilla trailing behind, the town also after them. Van Helsing and Vordenburg head inside to confront their respective vampires. Hell breaks loose. A few of the mob members head down the steep cliff side into the cave beneath the house despite the turbulent seas as a storm brews above. Said cave (and entrance to it in the house) being where Dracula has his coffin(s) w/ native soil stored. Setting up dynamite all over.

— Laura escapes w/ Van Helsing and Vordenburg while the two vampires engage in a fight w/ one another. The dynamite explodes and the cliff side the house rests on starts to crumble. Soon the house itself collapses down into the sea below, the two vampires still fighting inside, smashing to bits against the rocky shore and waters below. Both evils are killed. Their bodies mangled and staked in the heart.

— The End.

As you can probably tell, this is more of a recap of Carmilla and Dracula’s respective stories mixed into the same story. One, yes, this is true. Mostly due to it being the lesser known of the two by the general public so I figured it be a good introduction; two, this is a 1st draft made on the fly. Loosely tied together based on images for scenes I have in my head; three, more or less follows’ the story beats of “Frankenstein Meets The Wolfman”. Which is due to that film serving as the inspiration for the story and what the tone/film style be like. Sucks, I know. Feedback is appreciated.

#carmilla #vampire #dracula #count dracula #writing #story synopsis #outline #fan made #literature

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abybweisse · 3 years

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Why I don’t think reapers are reborn as reaper babies. First and foremost, it would be extremely inefficient for (always understuffed) dispatch to wait for baby reapers to grow up. I think that their soul is taken for judgment and transferred to a “new-old” body. Their mortal remains are left in the living world and the “new body” might be created from “matter” of some kind by the higher-ups. (1)

Well, who says the bureaucracy of the reaper organization is necessarily efficient to begin with? I see no reason to believe it’s run as smoothly as they like to think. Besides, part of my theory is that waiting for new reaper baby bodies to become available and for new reapers to grow up enough to be recruited by the organization would help to explain why they are so understaffed in the first place. Another reason why the collections department, specifically, might be understaffed is that not everyone who is recruited and trained has the aptitude for soul retrieval. William is probably only talking about his own department of the London branch.

And not having many female reapers around also helps to explain why some male reapers (particularly in soul collection) start flirting with human females, like we have seen Ronald do at least twice in manga canon. If the rebirth theory turns out to be true, and if Undertaker also ends up being Cedric, then reaper males reproducing with human females would also be considered an act to undermine the whole reaper organization. After failing to destroy the reaper HQ around 1819, Undertaker might have considered several other ways to weaken the organization. Reducing the available staff, over time, is one way (among others) to do that.

Your suggestion about the “new-old” bodies is a possibility; I just haven’t seen any real evidence either in favor of that or against my rebirth/karmic reincarnation theory. I’d be very curious to know what people in the fandom who support the “new-old body” theory think the materials come from, how and where the bodies are made, etc.

Real people definitely commit suicide at different ages, and I think it’s no different in the Kuroverse, but my rebirth theory takes note of how all the new recruits in the “Story of Will the Reaper” OVA look to be about the same age, perhaps 18 or so years old. My rebirth theory also suggests they age very slowly... and that people like Lawrence “Pops” Anderson would count as evidence that some reapers (perhaps all of them) have to go through their punishments for an immensely long period of time. It could even be used as possible evidence that the promise of salvation is not true....

Hair length isn’t dependent upon how long they have been reapers, as Othello has been there longer than Grelle and William, and Grelle’s hair is much longer than Othello’s. And William has been there longer than reapers like Ronald, but Ronald’s hair is longer than William’s. Hair length is about personal style... if not an indicator of “power” as a reaper.

Undertaker has bags under his eyes, and they were not there before. Not even when he first revealed himself to be a reaper.

Yes, statistically, more males commit suicide than females. This would cause even more of a problem of being understaffed... if their society/organization relies on female reapers to supply more reaper babies/bodies. I wouldn’t say it’s unrealistic, though I agree it’s somewhat misogynistic. Who says the reaper realm isn’t just as misogynistic as the human realm tends to be? I have a strong feeling that attitudes in the different branches of the reaper realm reflect the regions they come from/work for. Even though their technology is more advanced, their thinking about gender roles might not be. Furthermore, if you advance their society 50 — even 100 — years, the reaper realm would still reflect a largely misogynistic human realm/society. In the Kuroverse, the German branch might be more open to female reapers collecting souls, etc., since we see how the human realm has several women in the German military — Sieglinde’s mother was a chemist, and the female villagers were soldiers. We don’t have a canon sex or gender confirmed for Sascha, so 🤷🏻‍♀️. Any rules there might be for the roles female and male reapers play in the reaper organization might be entirely dependent upon the branches where they work.

One point you are categorically wrong about: we actually do know that female reapers work various office jobs in the organization, and that’s not just mentioned in the anime, where Ronald is shown chatting up (presumably) female reapers in some department at HQ. In the manga, we haven’t had a scene like that, but Ronald mentions something similar... when he’s talking about getting modifications approved for his death scythe.

But, since they do canonically have secretarial/desk jobs within the reaper organization, this is just further evidence that the reaper realm (or at least the London branch) is still a misogynistic society, even if it’s ahead of the Victorian views about females/women. Because when females/women first entered the corporate world, it was typical for them to be secretaries or low-paid office workers.

We don’t really know what’s important or not important to the story. Most of this is the fandom trying to figure that out as we go.

I agree with you about this: I also highly doubt that the promise of redemption is true.

Some form of “disposal” could easily be the case, but that could just as easily be true for the “rebirth/karmic reincarnation” theory as it would be for the “new-old bodies” theory.

My theory includes using (at least parts of) their old human cinematic records, along with their old human souls, when making reaper babies. The whole business of putting souls into human babies to begin with is such a mystery that how it would be done with reaper babies is allowed to remain just as ridiculously mysterious. How they add snippets of a cinematic record from a previous life is the least mysterious part about it: whoever does it uses more precise techniques than Undertaker first did with his early bizarre dolls. His latest ones don’t seem to have stitches across their foreheads anymore. Bizarre doll Ciel did... at first... but doesn’t seem to anymore; a fresh blood supply might help explain that. Well... what do you think happens with the blood supply of a developing fetus? It’s cleaned and replenished by the mother....

The more I think about Undertaker’s methods in creating bizarre dolls, the more I think he’s basically learning, through trial and error, how to do things that the “superiors” or the gods can do. And I believe that’s true, regardless of which reaper creation theory is right. Either they are souls trapped in “new-old bodies” or they are reincarnated into reaper babies; it doesn’t matter too much to him because he really only has pre-existing bodies to deal with. Mating with human females gives you humans with some reaper traits... but does not give you reapers. What happens if Undertaker figures out how to combine a human body with a different (but closely-enough “shaped”) soul? We might just find out, at some point.... Anyway, he’s basically using and improving upon tidbits of stollen technology, which is a huge Mother game series parallel. Not just Mother3, but the entire series. (Maybe try #george in my blog for more on that.)

You said it. Reapers need to eat and sleep; that’s canon. Why wouldn’t they also be able to reproduce? To me, this is evidence in favor of “rebirth/karmic reincarnation”. The same could potentially be true for “new-old bodies” theory. (It doesn’t really make sense if reapers are dead and walking around in their original bodies, though. Very little of what we now know about reapers still works with the idea they are walking corpses that have been reanimated with their own, old souls. Particularly since some suicide methods would completely destroy the body.)

Sebastian says reapers are much like gods, or that they are something between gods and humans. But what, truly, does a demon know about the nature of reapers? Does he even know about their eating and sleeping requirements?

For that matter, what do reapers truly know about demons?

Reapers and demons might simply “know” about each other what they have witnessed and what they have been told. There’s a good chance they believe several false truths about each other. Quite possibly by design. I imagine the gods prefer to keep it that way....

And these are just my thoughts and theories, too. They have changed quite a bit over the roughly 6 years I’ve been in the Kuroshitsuji fandom, and I realize they might change again... as we get more canon information about reapers, demons, “superiors”, the gods, and even humans in the Kuroverse. I try to take a scientific approach to this, in that I’m willing to change my beliefs in light of new evidence. So, I do try to respect other opinions and theories, but I will reject what doesn’t match the evidence. Like I said, some of my own views and theories have changed over the years. Often, those changes start with theories presented by others in the fandom.

Either of us could be correct, at this point, and only time (and future chapters) will tell us which theory is right... if either is... and if Yana-san chooses to even explain how suicide victims are “turned into” reapers. 😅 Honestly, we might never know. 🤦🏻‍♀️

I’m glad you enjoy my blog, even if you don’t always agree. I tend to enjoy the blogs of theorists I don’t always agree with, too. The discussions can be very eye-opening!

It took a while for me to reply, but I definitely wanted to give it a proper response.

Cheers! 🍻

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sagasofazeria · 3 years

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My Attempts At Making Unique Nonhumans Part 5: Dragonborn!

This is gonna be a long one my friends, so buckle up. (This is part 5 of this series, to see the others just go through the “Nonhuman series” tag on my blog!). Also, some of these changes will kind of retroactively apply to true dragons as well b/c of how this all works.

Taglist: @talesfromaurea @hellishhin

•

General:

Dragonborn!! I have changed a LOT of what goes on here. I actually changed the origin of dragonborn itself even. In my mind they’re just another in the same family as dragons, literally just humanoid dragons. The first dragonborn were much closer to their true-dragon cousins (wings and etc), but over time the dragonborn have become more and more different as evolution happens. There are some dragonborn who are more draconic than others, but those are usually small, ancient, and isolated pockets. This all also means that the lines can get blurred when it comes to dragonborn, and often with dragonborn they are either clearly similar to the common attitude of their true dragon counterpart or completely different. It depends on many factors, obviously, especially their upbringing and culture. Another thing I changed was their lifespan, because it’s such bs that the DRAGON species isn’t long lived. That’s like a whole thing with dragons, it should be reflected in dragonborn too. So, in my world, dragonborn tend to live a long time, anywhere between 250 and 600 years or so. They’re roughly on par with dwarves, if not slightly longer-lived. Another thing dragonborn have is the ability to unleash a roar that sounds like a full on dragon (like Shakari did during the battle at Dymea’s hideout). This is often used for battle cries and other similarly dramatic things. (Imagine an army of dragonborn unleashing a war cry. It’s a common tactic to instill fear in an enemy and it works pretty much every time.) Additionally, their scales, in classic dragon fashion, are like iron. Most dragonborn use their scales as natural armor because it’s easy and pretty effective. Another thing is that dragonborn have senses that rival even the elves, because that’s another iconic dragon thing that I felt that they deserve. I’ve also decided that because I personally adore tattoos, it’s very sad that dragonborn and other scaled species couldn’t have them, so I’ve invented a special “scale-paint” that allows permanent marking on dragonborn and other scaled folks. I mean, there’s always magic, of course, but scale-paint is generally easier. Last thing I added here is that very very powerful dragonborn sometimes gain the ability to shift their form, just like ancient true dragons, but it is extremely rare.

Metallic/Chromatic:

Okay, so, metallic and chromatic dragons. Honestly, in my world, the difference between the two is negligible at best. They’re just two different groups of dragons. I don’t like that one is evil and one good because that’s boring. Plus, I mean, why would a dragon, an ancient creature with vast knowledge and power, never be able to learn or change its behavior? Doesn’t make sense. Of course the distinction is even further reduced with dragonborn, to the point where gold and red are just scale colors and you can guess pretty much nothing based on that. Although, I did take away the Paralyzing breath in both the metallic true dragons and metallic dragonborn, instead just sticking to the one option. I also feel like chromatic true dragons should be able to shape-shift as well, so I did that too. Anyways, on to the colors! Gonna put it under a cut because again, this is a long one.

Red:

Red dragonborn! Most dragonborn, the closer they are to their true dragon relatives then the stronger and more numerous the traits they share with them will be. Some common things to see in reds are extra large horns, serrated claws for climbing mountains, and gray/black/brown undertones that would help blending in in the mountains. It’s also very common for their breath to smell like smoke, obviously, and for their bodies to be extremely warm. Red dragon scales are prized for giving off intense heat even years and years after death, and some red dragonborn scales have the same warmth. Red dragonborn also have the strongest scales of most dragonborn besides black, even to the point of reinforced scales in impact heavy areas (allowing for tumbles down mountains without severe harm). This helps more with true dragon hatchlings learning to fly in the mountains, but some red dragonborn inherit it as well.

Blue:

Blue dragonborn tend to vary a lot in how actually “blue” they are, seeing as how blue is quite possibly the worst color for surviving in the desert, the usual habitat of actual blue dragons, when you can’t fly (unlike true blue dragons, who it works for because they can hide in the sky). So they go from brownish muddied blue to straight up sapphire depending on how necessary camouflage was in their genetic history. Besides that, they have a few traits that, again, vary depending on how distanced they are from true dragons. Examples are scales/a horn that easily conduct electricity, a system for conserving water that runs just beneath the scales, special markings around their eyes that help them see in the sun (much like a cheetah), and a smell of ozone. Their breath/their inherent electrical charge can be used for a lot of purposes, from excavation to glass sculpture. (I like to imagine little baby blues making sandcastles and then their parents turning them to glass with their breath and saving them later.) I imagine glass art is probably common with most of the heat based dragon types, actually.

Green:

Green dragonborn, unlike most others, have to be far more careful with their breath weapon. They have venom sacs and a special organ to hold the toxin they can breathe, but it’s hard to tell the difference, especially for young greens. They’re a bit like vipers in that sense, that the babies can barely control their venom. Some common traits green dragons can have is obviously their camouflage in forested areas. Their scales often have a slight shimmering layer so that even in dappled/varied light they can remain stealthy. Green dragonborn also obviously have a super boosted immune system in order withstand poison (and not just their own). They usually are also the only dragons/dragonborn who lack horns besides occasional smaller and more antler-like ones. They also have can have a leaflike texture to their fins and frills that can help collect water (and also serve as a way to regulate a bunch of bodily functions. For example the fins would serve a similar function to sweat, among other things.), and even gills in some cases.

Black:

Black dragonborn have the strongest scales of any dragonborn besides red, as their scales are built to withstand their acidic saliva. Black dragonborn, like black dragons, are unique from other dragonborn/dragons because a lot of their bodies can be worn away or decaying before they die, because their organs just... don’t. Similarly to their saliva, their stomach acid is even more powerful. It is the most potent acid known to mortals, and black dragonborn often carry on this trait. It’s said a black dragon’s stomach acid can melt through almost anything, and because of this, acid reflux can be deadly to young dragonborn who haven't fully developed the acid-resistant coating on their throats and organs yet. Some other common traits are gills (for swampland living), and longer claws that can be used for slashing or stabbing (helps when spearing fish).

White:

White dragonborn tend to be the biggest dragonborn since they need the protection from the cold. They are still cold-blooded, like other dragonborn, but the ideal temperature is much lower for them. I also gave them horns, but not normal horns, something more akin to mammoth tusks. So white dragonborn also tend to have tusks. Additionally, white dragons have these strange quills along their spines that create a chilling sort of howl when rubbed together or a when a breeze blows through it right, and white dragonborn have these too. They’re often used by hatchlings and mothers to find each other. Another common feature is having huge and occasionally webbed feet/hands for running in snow without sinking (or swimming), like built in snowshoes. They are another type of dragonborn/dragon that also commonly has gills.

Gold:

Gold dragonborn, the shiniest of shiny. Also, funnily enough, the dragonborn with the weakest scales (which is really not very weak at all, by the way. Iron can still break on them). Of course, though, this is often used for body art. Gold dragonborn often semi-melt their scales’ outer coating with their fire, and then create all sorts embossings and patterns on themselves before it cools. Best part about this is it can be redone if they get bored (which can happen when you live 500 years). Only thing is this can further weaken the scales or cause damage if done too many times. Some other common traits are their fins, which work very similar to those of the green dragonborn.

Silver:

Silver dragonborn!! I so rarely see metallic dragonborn in my personal games, actually, but I admit silver dragons/dragonborn are my favorite. Silver dragons in my world have a triceratops-like plate/crest on their foreheads that they use to bash into one another in fights (and to break rocks), so silver dragonborn tend to have something similar on top of their heads. Another interesting part of silver dragonborn is that while they speak draconic naturally, their tongues are actually so flexible and their vocal cords so versatile that they are able to mimic most speech they hear, and learn how to pronounce almost any new languages very quickly, a benefit they gain from the habits of silver dragons to visit along mortals. They also have a much higher tolerance for thin air, and their true dragon counterparts can fly the highest into the atmosphere of any known dragon. They also have the same malleable scales as the gold dragonborn, though slightly tougher, and claws that are serrated like reds’ are.

Bronze:

So first things first, I have changed some things even with the true dragons. I have switched the habitats and breath weapons of bronze and brass dragons. Bronze dragons now live in the hills/plains and breathe fire, and Brass dragons live on the coasts and breath superheated air/steam. Besides that they are generally the same, however. Regardless, bronze dragonborn. They too have malleable scales, though they will retain their shape much better and are far stronger (as well as requiring more heat). The bronze dragonborn tend to have similar adaptations to the blue, like the eye markings. Their horns/crest are slightly different though, since they don’t need to conduct electricity. Some common features among bronze are serrated claws for rockier areas, or large feet and tail for balance on sand (which blues would likely have as well).

Brass: Brass dragons/dragonborn are a little weird but I like em. They normally breath superheated air BUT they can scoop down into water and gulp some of that and if they have excess can turn their breath weapon into steam instead through use of a special organ. Also they of course have gills and webbed claws, as well as scales that have a sort of water resistant coating that helps them glide in and out of water. They also have eye markings to help them see despite glare of sun on the water, so the brass dragonborn may inherit many of these. Brass dragonborn also have the malleable metallic scales, just less so than others because the waterproof coating makes it difficult. They also tend to have extra strong gator-like tails.

Copper:

I also changed coppers up! It felt weird to have the acid one in the desert, so I changed it up and gave the coppers lightning. Like blue dragonborn, they can have many desert adaptations alongside their conductivity in their scales, interesting thing about coppers is that they have the fins like greens, but they are used slightly differently. Mainly they’re used to feel changes in the air (when a storm is coming and etc) but they can also release heat, and can press down against their bodies to prevent damage. Coppers (and blues) are also generally good at burrowing in sand, and often you’ll see coppers leaping in and out like scaly sand dolphins.

Iron:

Ah look! It’s me, I did another thing. I may have created a whole new type of metallic dragon. Behold, the Iron Dragon. These guys live primarily underground, and are generally slightly smaller than other dragons, using their wings more like bats use theirs, flitting around cave ceilings (also they are blind and have echolocation also like bats lol). So Iron dragonborn inherit many of these, and since they live underground, often interact less with other dragonborn and surface societies, and usually retain much more of their draconic traits. Their scales are malleable as well, and possibly some of the strongest. Iron dragons/dragonborn also breathe a thick, heavy smoke, that serves both a a noxious cloud and a way to blind their enemies (since they use echolocation anyway).

Gem Dragons:

honestly? Not really sold on em yet, so there’s none in my world. Could change though, I dunno.

•

Ah this was fun. Enjoy dragonborn immensely, now they have some extra fun flavor! Yay! Feel free to leave suggestions for next week, I’m thinking probably either Kobolds or Orcs? Still not sure though.

#not story #long post #worldbuilding #wbw #(late again tho)#Nonhuman series #here be dragons #>:)#love me some dragons #how to train your dragon remains my favorite series of dragon books #possibly my favorite series of all time actually if we’re being honest #and every day i feel the urge to make a d&d setting with those kinds of dragons in it instead #maybe one day

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raven-moon33 · 3 years

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@dorkshadows @earl-of-221b @melonmass @antidotefortheawkward-art @videogamelover99 (I’m tagging a bunch of people in case Tumblr eats my post again.)

Hello everyone! Happy #jttwfestival2020! I’m so excited to be participating in this event, and am so thrilled at all the new content we’re already getting. Here’s my fill for the prompt Day 3: Role Switch!

I will be cross-posting this on AO3 as well, so feel free to leave a kudos or comment there if you happen to swing by.

Basically, Golden Cicada/Sanzang is the super powerful protector of the group while the other four are severely weakened from their various positions before the journey started and can’t protect themselves all that well on the road.

Some notes on this AU thingum:

- Golden Cicada is asked by Guanyin to help with the journey. He agrees and takes the name Sanzang as his human alias and to hide his true identity from demons who might cause them trouble. (He’s referred to as both Sanzang and Golden Cicada in the story, so let me know if that gets to be too confusing.)

- He wears two golden bracelets that limit his powers so that he can stay on the mortal plane in a semi-human form for as long as the journey will take, although the strain of having his powers limited in such a way is sometimes quite tiring and even painful. (He’s still more than powerful enough to protect the group however, so don’t y’all worry).

- Wukong, Bajie, Wujing, and Bailong are all well aware of who their protector is, but they’re not aware of the whole bracelet/limited powers situation. (At least, as far as Sanzang knows).

Anyways, now that we’re done with all that, on with the prompt fill! I hope you all enjoy! :)

Sanzang was deeply regretting his decision to accompany the pilgrims on their journey. Although the four other members of their group were each powerful in their own ways (especially the monkey, good heavens) they still needed him to guard their journey onwards.

In order for the four celestials-turned-demons to redeem themselves and potentially achieve enlightenment, it was vital they had a guardian overseeing their journey, ensuring they remained on the righteous path, and protecting them from the many dangers their road took them towards.

Perhaps if they were taking this journey earlier-

before Bailong was weakened by decades cut off from the sea-

before Zhu Bajie and Sha Wujing lost most of their celestial might from the years of being slowly corrupted from their own demonic behavior and the consumption of human flesh-

before Sun Wukong was trapped under a mountain for five hundred years, once one of the most powerful creatures in existence, withering like a lotus flower locked away from the sun until he became a mere echo of his former self-

perhaps then they would not have needed a protector from the hordes of demons and mortals who sought to end their journey before they could complete it for one reason or another.

But they were not. This was now, and the things of the past could not be changed, only dealt with. So they continued on, however reluctant they might’ve been to do so.

Although the presence of a guardian for the pilgrims was clearly necessary, it most certainly didn’t need to be Golden Cicada himself. The only reason he volunteered to be the guardian of the scripture pilgrims at all was because Bodhisattva Guanyin herself asked it of him, and he never could find it in himself to say no to her. So he took the name Sanzang for his temporary human form and released Wukong from the mountain, beginning their journey west.

So now he was here, less than a year on the road with four demons who clearly didn’t want to be on this journey at all, trying desperately to prevent Wukong from killing. Again.

“Wukong! Stop!” He raised his hand to intercept the golden cudgel, only just stopping it from caving in the cowering bandit’s head. If Wukong was at his full power, the cudgel likely would’ve destroyed Sanzang’s hand (if not more) for the trouble, but as it was the hit left not much more than a stinging sensation reverberating up his arm, easily ignored.

Wukong’s eyes blazed with frustration (whether from Sanzang’s interference or from his own inability to power through that interference as he once might have, Sanzang couldn’t be sure) but his mouth was still tilted in an easy grin and his posture remained casual.

“What is it, little bug? I was just going to give him a tap, a tap! I swear!”

Sanzang couldn’t quite hold back his scoff. “You and I both well know that a ‘tap’ from you is enough to kill an entire army, let alone a single man. I thought you agreed that you wouldn’t kill anymore humans, especially not while on this journey?”

“If they can’t handle someone fighting back, then these bandits have no business trying to steal from people on the road in the first place.” Wukong’s grin became a little more feral when his eyes shifted to the bandit still cowering behind Sanzang. “Or is it alright that they’ve been going after traveling families and elderly folk?” His voice deepened a little into the demonic tone he only got when he was truly angry. “Children?”

“Of course it’s not alright.” Sanzang said with a soft sigh, his grip on the golden cudgel tightening a little to get Wukong’s eyes back on him. “And you know that’s not what I’m saying.” The silence between them grew into a large, tense thing, Wukong’s eyes blazing with the fire of his fury, singing with the memory of his days of havoc, and for a moment Sanzang wondered if they were going to fight once again, like they hadn’t since the very early days.

Back then, Wukong was still so wound tight with frustration at the situation- being freed from the mountain only to be trapped on a journey he wanted no part of, Sanzang having to rescue him from demons so lesser Wukong once probably wouldn’t have even noticed them amongst his horde of monkeys and demons, not even being able to fly on his cloud to make the journey easier or shorter at all, weakened as he was by the weight of Five Finger Mountain- that he’d more often than not lash out at Sanzang over everything, physically and verbally slashing at him with every method available until he either tired himself out, they became distracted by something else, or they managed to reach an uneasy compromise built up of tense silence and avoided glances.

It got better with the addition of the others to their group, levying the tension and anger somewhat with the presence of others who likely better understood and who could commiserate with Wukong’s frustration, but still sometimes there would be an aborted swing of his staff, a grinding of the teeth as he seemed to resist the temptation to bite at Sanzang’s outstretched hand.

But it was getting better, slow as the progress might be. Recently, Wukong even let Sanzang bandage some of his wounds after a particularly rough encounter with a mountain demon, the first time he’d accepted such help from anyone in the year they’d been traveling together.

Sanzang was surprised by how deeply he hoped they wouldn’t slide back into those early days.

It was not only because the constant war of wills had been exhausting, but because he genuinely hoped they could become something approaching friends before the end of their journey together. Sanzang had already become fond of the four demons he watched over, troublesome as they could be at times, but the other three took their cues from the Monkey King. So long as Wukong and Sanzang remained at odds, the others kept their distance from him, figuratively if not literally. (They did share a campfire more often than not, after all.)

And besides that, physical altercations with Wukong were always draining, more than nearly anything else on their journey.

He wasn’t sure if it was because Wukong was still just that powerful (weakened as he might be, it would still be suicide for most to challenge him) or if it was because Sanzang refused to use more than defensive tactics against him when they did fight (regardless of their personal issues, Wukong was still his charge, and he would never knowingly or willingly bring or allow harm to any under his protection), but whatever it was, fights with Wukong could leave him weakened enough to warrant a brief visit to Bodhisattva Guanyin to regain his strength, and he hated leaving the group even for handfuls of minutes, talented as they were at getting themselves into trouble even when he was there.

But luckily, Wukong didn’t seem to want a fight either. With a brief glance at the golden bands wrapped firmly around Sanzang’s wrists, the anger seemed to leech out of the monkey completely. (Not for the first time, Sanzang wondered if Wukong knew more about the bracelets than he was letting on, but now wasn’t the time to question him about it.)

Wukong rolled his eyes and took a step back, tugging his staff out of Sanzang’s grasp. He twirled it until the golden cudgel rested across his shoulders, both arms hanging off it casually.

“Right right, ‘doing wrong unto those who have wronged will not undo their wrongs, only add to your own’, and all that. You need to get some new sayings, little bug, if even those of us who aren’t listening have them memorized.” He walked off before Sanzang could retort, disappearing through the trees and returning to the road the bandits attacked them on. Sighing, out of frustration or relief or maybe even both, Sanzang turned back to the bandit still frozen to the ground behind him. As soon as he saw Sanzang’s eyes on him, the bandit hurried into a kowtow, bowing over and over again as he muttered a shaky litany of ‘sorry’, over and over again, interspersed occasionally with ‘thank you’ and ‘please spare me’.

Abruptly feeling very tired, Sanzang knelt down in front of the bandit, placing a gentle hand on the back of his head as he bent down to stop the frantic movements. The bandit froze and fell quiet instantly, face nearly pressed against the dirt despite the feather-light touch Sanzang had on him.

Sometimes, when he was feeling a little too tired or stressed or frustrated to completely hide the parts of himself the bands couldn’t quite suppress (or when he simply chose to stop hiding himself), everything around him could feel the heavy weight of his presence in the air. The insects in the trees would go silent, the plants in the forest would still their slow growth, and all mortal creatures would stop and tremble and hide in a desperate bid to avoid being seen by whatever now crouched among them, the entire world holding its breath as if waiting for the strike of lightning or the crash of an avalanche to swallow it whole. But, luckily for the bandit bowing beneath him, Golden Cicada was not cruel.

“You have lived a hard life, Chenglei,” the bandit flinched when Golden Cicada used his name, but otherwise didn’t move or make a sound, “but you know in your heart that it does not justify your actions now.” Golden Cicada gentled his tone, feeling the loss and grief twisting the man’s heart, feeling the beginnings of a demon’s bitterness rooted there in the ashes of love and gentleness.

(Loss wrought such devastation on a soul, and there was so much of it in the world; was there truly any wonder as to why so many demons wandered the world?)

“You have lost much, but you know those you’ve lost would be ashamed to see what you have become without them. Do you truly seek to dishonor their memory?”

“No.” The man sobbed out, shaking as his tears stained the dirt beneath them.

“Then go,” Golden Cicada said, standing up and stepping back, “and do better. Live the way they would’ve wanted you to.” The bandit didn’t waste another moment, scrambling up from the dirt and escaping into the forest, running as far and as fast from the road (and from Golden Cicada) as he could. With a small wave of his fingers, a cicada sprung from a nearby leaf and buzzed hurriedly after the man. Golden Cicada had given the bandit a chance, a choice, and it was up to him what he did with it.

But whether he chose to turn from the dark path he walked or continued along it despite Golden Cicada’s interference, he would be sure to face the appropriate consequences; Golden Cicada’s messenger would make sure of that.

The bandit now long gone, Golden Cicada sat down in the shade of a large oak tree, relaxing into the familiar lotus position. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and he drew himself back into himself. The heavy presence of the air eased away until it was locked completely behind golden bands and a human facade once more.

After a brief moment of silence in the newly lightened forest air, the insects began to cautiously chirp and chitter once again, birds hopping nervously onto new branches and singing soft tunes to one another, the trees groaning as they carefully continued their slow growth.

Sanzang released his breath in a long sigh, eyeing the cuffs around his wrists. They were mostly unremarkable looking, plain and nondescript even with their golden appearance, but that rarely meant much when it came to celestial tools.

They were given to him by Bodhisattva Guanyin back when he first agreed to help with the journey, and if it weren’t for the bracelets he wouldn’t be able to accompany the pilgrims at all, especially not for as long as the journey was likely to take. He recognized the necessity of wearing them, yet still he couldn’t help but loathe them at times. They locked away the majority of his powers, the majority of himself, shrinking him into something small and muted enough to exist on the mortal plane in a form he could pass off as human when he needed to, while still giving him enough power to help the pilgrims when they needed him.

The bracelets tethered him to the world in a way he hadn’t been bound for almost as long as he could remember, and although he could technically take them off whenever he desired, they still felt like chains trapping him, keeping him away from the sky and the freedom he’d enjoyed for an eternity (yet still for not long enough).

The heaviness of his own body startled him at times, his bones filled with mortar and his blood as viscous as honey, and he thought often about how he could understand at least some of Wukong’s frustrations. To be a creature of the sky suddenly bound to the unforgiving grip of the earth was a unique kind of torment not easily likened to any other.

He could take off the bands whenever he wanted, free himself and stop feeling like he was too big for his own skin, form itching with the need to be drifting amongst the stars and being the stars and forming the stars and dying with the stars all at once, but he also couldn’t take them off.

As Bodhisattva Guanyin warned him the single time he removed them, (back when a surprisingly powerful demon had his charges captured and was going to kill them, actually going to kill them, and Sanzang in his neutered form might not have been able to save them in time but Golden Cicada in his full glory most certainly could) the bracelets could only be removed and replaced a limited number of times.

Rebinding his power weakened the bracelets significantly, powerful as they were otherwise, and eventually his own form would be too much for the bracelets to contain. If the bracelets broke before the journey was over, there was no telling what would become of the pilgrims left without the guardian and guide they needed, and he was determined to see this journey through to the end for them.

(Come to think of it, Wukong hadn’t picked a fight with him since the time he briefly took them off. Wukong hadn’t been there when they were put back on as far as Sanzang knew, couldn’t have seen how excruciating it had been to lock himself away again after that brief taste of full freedom, but again he wondered if Wukong had managed to glean some understanding of what they were during that incident. Sanzang would have to question him about it soon, for his own peace of mind if nothing else. Something about the thought of any of his charges knowing, but especially Wukong, made something unpleasant shiver under his skin. He hoped none of them would ever know.)

It had only been a year, but already his investment in the pilgrims’ fates had gone from being for Bodhisattva Guanyin’s sake only to being entirely about his hope to see them succeed.

He had become so fond of them even in such a short time, and although he missed his old life amongst the celestials without these bracelets leashing the very essence of him, he found he dearly wished for his charges to succeed and achieve enlightenment themselves far more, even if they themselves didn’t seem to care much about it, judging by how often they complained and conspired against him when they thought he couldn’t hear. (The fact that none of them ever made a serious attempt to abandon the journey was often the only kernel of hope he had as the nights grew longer and the road stretched ever on.)

All these swirling thoughts of his were interrupted by something soft being stroked across his face.

Although he couldn’t see what caused it, he’d spent enough time around Bodhisattva Guanyin to recognize the feeling of a willow branch on his skin. She remained invisible, and although he could see her if he summoned his power once more (straining the magic of the bracelets binding him) he knew she would’ve shown herself if she wanted to be seen.

He recognized her visit for what it was (a gentle reprimand), so he closed his eyes and folded his body into the lotus position once again. The minutes passed peacefully between them, her silent presence as comforting as it always was, warm and gentle as spring rain, and they needed no words between them.

He breathed in, felt the knot of anger and anxiety and frustration and panic coiling in his chest, building from the time he’d last given himself to properly meditate, and he breathed it out.

With each breath he felt himself relaxing more and more, the tight clutch of fear easing until it disappeared entirely. Soon he was empty, mind calm and quiet like it hadn’t been for a good many nights, and he felt as much like himself as he could, bound to the earth as he was.

There was one more feather-light touch to his head (chastising, yet fond) and he could almost hear her saying you must take better care of yourself Golden Cicada; if you yourself are not at peace, then how can you help them find their own? before her presence faded and was gone completely. When he opened his eyes, all that remained as proof of her being there was a small lotus leaf filled with crystal clear water.

Smiling at this generous gift, he picked up the leaf and took a small sip. He drank barely enough to be able to taste it, yet still the subsequent warmth and strength suffusing his body was immediate. (He didn’t realize how weak and tired he’d been feeling recently, not until energy lit him up once more).

With care, he expertly twisted the edges of the leaf together until it closed up, protecting the water inside so he could safely store it in one of the hidden pockets in his robe. He would use it in their stew that night, as he knew they would be facing danger again soon and wanted his charges to have as much strength as they could before that happened. With one last look at his surroundings, Sanzang stood up, brushed himself off, and moved to return to the road where his charges were (hopefully) waiting for him.

When he returned to the site of the bandit attack, what he saw both surprised and warmed him.

The bandits hadn’t really been aiming for their group when they attacked, as their sights were focused more on the wagon of a traveling family who’d been on the same road. Although the combined efforts of Bajie, Wujing, and Bailong were enough to scare away the rest of the bandits while Sanzang prevented Wukong from killing the man he’d chased into the forest, it appeared the family and the wagon hadn’t managed to escape entirely unscathed.

The cart had somehow been flipped onto its side, flinging all of its contents into the grass beside the road, and while the horse pulling the wagon didn’t seem to be harmed, it had gotten loose and was now running down the road at a panicked gallop. The eldest of the group (likely the father of one of the parents), appeared to have broken his leg after falling from the wagon, and the two young children, a boy and a girl surely not more than five years old, were crying from their place stuck in a tree, where they’d gone to hide while the bandits fought the pilgrims.

But it was not all this that made Sanzang suddenly feel so warm and fond.

It was the sight of Wujing carefully lifting and righting the cart onto the road as Bajie helped the father of the group pick up the family’s scattered supplies.

It was Bailong quickly shifting into the horse form he generally seemed to prefer on the road to chase after the frightened mare, calming it down and leading it back to the family before it got too far to catch.

It was Wukong soothing the scared children, carefully lifting them out of the tree and returning them to the ground, letting them cling to him until their shaking stopped and patiently calming them down so their mother could tend to their injured grandfather.

A small smile painting his features, pride in his charges glowing brightly in his chest, Sanzang quickly strode over to help the mother set the elderly man’s leg.

Perhaps there’s hope for this journey after all. He thought to himself.

Somehow, somewhere, he felt like Bodhisattva Guanyin was laughing.

(A/N: Thank you all so much for reading! Let me know what you think and once again, happy #jttwfestival2020!)

#jttwfestival2020 #jttw #journey to the west #Tang Sanzang #golden cicada #sun wukong #sha wujing #zhu bajie #bailong #white dragon horse #Bodhisattva Guanyin #*scuttles into the room out of breath and slams story down onto the table*#sorry I'm late everybody!#holiday season has been a word I'm not allowed to say in front of the children #hopefully I'll be able to get at least a few more of these prompts filled even with the holidays breathing down my neck #someone send help ;;#hopefully my post will actually show up in the tags this time #fingers crossed lmao #but AGH I'm so excited for this and it's only day three

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hoodedlich · 3 years

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A short field guide to vampire hunting

You want to start your career as a vampire or monster hunter and have no idea what you are doing? Fear not for I´ve got you covered!

Vampires are a difficult and broad topic because they are so popular. Media created a completely different “Style of vampirism” than old tales so this guide is based on my very own view on them. Combining vampires from old tales and from more or less modern media. But without further ado let´s get started!

1.How do I spot a vampire?

Well...most certainly you won´t. If it would be that easy vampires would have gone extinct by now. They look like humans most of the time. But most certainly they will have fangs and are pale (no they don´t sparkle...) from avoiding the sun for that long. Also paleness isn´t our most reliable indicator, so please do NOT put a stake in somones heart only because they look slightly pale.

Probably their appearance will change and their more monsterlike features will come out when they are hungry.

It is also said that if a black rooster is set free during the night on a graveyard it will find the grave of a vampire.

2. What are their weaknesses?

The sun and fire: There is a good reason why vampires are called “The Children Of The Night”. Sunlight hurts. It´s just that they are much more prone to sunburn than we mortals are. The sunlight is like burning fire and weakens and blinds them quite a lot.

Running water and doorsteps: Vampires can´t cross running water and can´t enter a house without the residents permission. (Throw your Welcome mat away if you don´t want to attract nightly visitors)

Silver and Steel: deadly as they are both pure metals. They will stop the vampire (werewolves too) from regenerating and can burn them. In mirrors that are made with silver vampires wont have a reflection! So modern mirrors are completely worthless to a hunter...

Holy water and crosses: Will only be effective if your prey is a vampire of demonic nature. Otherwise please don´t pour water on them or shove a cross into their face.

Garlic: It´s more like a vampire-repellent. The smell is too strong for their sensitive noses, but it won´t do much!

Seeds: “Seeds? Why should they help against vampires?”, I hear you ask. Well Vampires are obsessed with counting. Just throw them on the ground in front of your camp and hopefully the vampire will be distracted the entire night. Alternatively a fishing net will do the job as the vampire will try to untangle its knots.

3. What do I need to pack for my hunt?

Silver weapons: normal ones won´t kill them as they don´t prevent the vampire from regenerating. The type of weapon depends on which era you are trying to hunt vampires in. The most popular are swords, crossbows, pistols, rifles etc. (with silver bullets or arrow tips)

Wooden stakes

First aid kit

Rations and camping/survival gear: Maybe you´ll be out in the wild for several days

Lantern

Journal and everything else you deem important

4. What to wear?

(This one is pretty much just my perfectly asthetically pleasing and completely subjective opinion...)

Light boots: practical and silent

Coat or a thick jacket: Preferably thick leather lined with fur or wool. It will protect and keep you warm in the coldest crypts. (Oh and it looks pretty dramatic don´t you think?)

Thick vest with a sturdy collar: added warmth and protection from bites.

Leather bracers and gloves: protection from bites and from getting vampire blood all over your bare hands.

Belts and bandoliers with pouches: to store all your weapons and gear

You can honestly wear anything you feel comfortable and save with (Remember to protect your arteries!)

5. To kill a vampire

Fire: burn them and scatter the ashes in multiple places

Stakes: will most likely paralyse the vampire but NOT kill them. As soon as the stake is removed they will become activ again!

Stabbing: Stab them with a silver knife or sword through the heart or head

Shoot: Put a silver bullet in their heart or head

Decapitation

It is best to combine different methods, if possible, to maximize your success! Never just lock a vampire up in a crypt or coffin! Lack of blood will just weaken and not kill them!

6. More things you should know

The power of a vampire isn´t always the same: They are at their strongest if they recently drank blood or if it´s near the middle of the night.

If a mirror doesn´t contain silver the vampire WILL have a reflection.

A vampires might increases throughout the night and decreases in the hours before sunset. Therefore just after dawn and shortly before sunset is the best time for slaying a vampire.

Not all vampires sleep during the day. If they live (see what I did there?) underground, for example in a crypt, they won´t need to be asleep to avoid the sun and may wander around during the day.

If you are on a hunt and know that your target is nearby then always keep in mind that the vampire has better senses than you!

Always sleep when the vampire is sleeping! You don´t want to be taken by surprise.

It is the most safe and easy method to kill a vampire in their sleep.

And always remember: Not all vampires are evil!

After reading this guide you should be able to stay alive and be successfull during your hunt. But keep in mind that vampires are, much like humans, unpredictable and diverse. Always think twice before killing one! Maybe they don´t have any bad intentions and just want to live in peace among mortals or are misunderstood and deemed monsters only because they seem dangerous or different at first. Never let down your guard or disregard your humanity and I wish my dear readers and fellow hunters a successfull hunt.

*-------+-------+-------+-------+-------+-------+------+-------+--------+-------+-------+-------*

My very own view of vampires is a mix between headcanons, folk tales and media! So yours might be a bit or even very different and that´s really cool :) I just wrote this guide for fun and apologise for any grammatical or spelling errors (English is not my first language)! I hope you had fun reading!

And most important: No vampires were harmed in the making of this post.

#vampire #vampire hunter #fantasy guide #undead #tell me if you would like to see more of these :)#just for fun

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lunarkreatures · 3 years

Photo

So did this a while ago, did everything by hand cause i didn't know i could download templates from storytellers vault. I wanted to do a fake cover just to test out CSP.

So the idea of it is something like the rage across books from werewolf the apocalypse that are supplements for many places in the world. rage across worlds would be completely different scenarios and worlds for werewolf the reclaimed that would basically be a tweaked version of forsaken that I am working on.

That aside I even wrote a full story that would be the introduction to the scenario of the red pyramid. you can read it after the read more.

The chronicles of the red pyramid

This is a tale from the old times, ages ago. A time when the red pyramid, the palace of the god king wasn't the nest of horror it is today, it's red shine would invoke adoration not fear. People would look at it's red light and feel safe, protected, but people sleep turned away from it's light, it's said that just sleeping looking at it is enough to give nightmares, or even invite the dark presence to from that place come after you.

There are many variations of this tale, many different interpretations, though the true story only the cursed heir and the warriors who decided to commit the first act against the gods know the truth. And I will tell you a tale, that you probably heard before...

The first slaying took place during the night, under the watchful eyes of the two moons, inside the red pyramid. Right after dinner, people tell stories of how the heir to the throne and her warriors just suddenly started attacking the soldiers in the castle one by one. Until it was only them and the king, the attack inside the castle was sudden, brutal, the hallways inside the red pyramid are still red to this day from the bloodshed. The bodies of the guards completely torn apart in pieces, the work of a true beast.

The savage warriors and their leader arrived at the top of the pyramid, the throne room, where the king awaited. The king pleaded to his child to stop this madness but the heir didn’t hesitate, she raised her blade stabbing the king, her warriors watched everything happen, all quiet.

The king fell unmoving on the floor, blood pooling around the unmoving body, the scene illuminated by the lights inside the chamber and the moons covered by the clouds. The heir however, was not satisfied with the death of the king, her blade went down one more time, this time cutting off his head, blood came out of the severed head, pooling around it.

She raised her blade towards the moons in victory. At that time the clouds stopped blocking the moons view. You know, many say that the small red moon was actually the previous queen's ascended form. Some say she is the direct daughter of the nameless god, the huge moon in the sky, and she was granted a flesh body to protect us from the spirits and once her duty was done she went back to the sky, others say she was mortal and due to a great sacrifice she ascended. Though that's not important for our tale, what is important is what happened when the clouds covering the red moon cleared. The light shone into the chamber, filling it with a red ominous glow.

Many things happened in seconds, the direct rays of moonlight changed all those in the room. It's said the moon went mad from the scene she witnessed, and cursed her child to take a bestial form. The heir, once a proud warrior, became a monster. Her loyal knights were also punished becoming animals. The dead king, it is said that the moon tried to bring her lover to life but something went wrong, something that was never alive was born out of this, a paradox itself. Something not made of flesh and yet it bled, could pass through walls and yet it was solid, was not of its world, and yet, it merged with it.

The now monstrous heir fought that, made it bleed and tried to kill that once again. The warriors also fought and suddenly the presence vanished along with the king’s severed head. When the guards arrived they saw the animal knights and the heir, and the dead king body. They prepared to attack but the animals vanished, the heir escaped through the window and to this day roams the land, cursing others to its same fate.

The red moon went mad from grief, cursing all who she felt deserved to be punished with the same curse she did to her child. Since then weird creatures roam the land, not the cursed, but incorporeal beings, abominations of flesh that hunt anything alive that they can find, twist the world around to grotesque things. It is said this is all the work of the cursed heir and her minions so tell me are you ready to spread the horror in the world and feast upon your loved ones?

...Uhm? What is with that face? HAHAHAHA I am joking with you, you feel deep down that this story is not true, right? Well that's the story many believe, but there is another version, like i said many versions. But because of this story we are monsters, the culprits of what has happened to the world, we are the cursed. We are always being hunted, and yet we are hunters of our own, we have a purpose.

You see, let me tell the other side of this story. First the heir we don't even know if she was cursed in the first place, just that she exists and almost seems to avoid us...i don't know why. Where i come from we refer to the heir as the moon’s daughter but others refer to her through other names.

And what could have caused her to do what she did? It is said that the king made the unthinkable, he opened a gateway between our world and another place, a place that is the reflection of our own, where the abominations live. He was able to break the protection the gods put in place, they sacrificed being able to talk to us to protect us from the creatures that come from the shadow, in many places the barrier between these worlds is weakening and things are changing. However it's not just monsters that live in the shadow the gods envoys usually talk to us and help us, teaching us the power of gods.

They say the heir to this day regrets what she had done, but there was no other way, the king was not himself anymore, he died long ago and something else was in its place, it said when she served his head, a black liquid oozed from it, taking form and shape ready to escape, the heir then pleaded the moon for power to fulfill her destiny, to give her a weapon capable of killing whatever that was that was when she changed, her blade merging with her, claws and fangs getting the power to slay even a god. And she attacked, giving a permanent injury on that thing that to this day bleeds, but was not able to kill it … heartbroken from what she had to do and feeling the pressure of her failure she ran away. Her loyal knights understanding her pain ran after the dark presence to not lose track of it.

That was when the moon trying to help her daughter kept a watchful eye one those she deemed worthy of helping, that's where we come in. We are blessed by the moon with a cursed responsibility. We need to hunt the creatures that cross to our world, kill the root of all evil, and restore the barrier. Only then we will be free of this curse, or so legends say. I hope you understand this, the moon chose us to be the protectors of our world, the fierce hunters of the shadow, some deny the hunter nature and their duty, and pay a high price by denying that, I hope you are different from the fools I met before.

What is this?

The umbra, the spirit world, a reflection to the world shuddered in darkness that we know. Still even to those who enter the umbra it's a complete alien place where things might or might not make sense, many planes and pocket dimensions, who can say that it's just the world we know that has a reflection there?

Rage across worlds is a collection of scenarios about other worlds, sometimes worlds similar to what we know and others completely different. However The primal fear, the beast, the hunter, the warrior is a reflection in many words, each have their own version of a werewolf. The umbra is a nexus to many worlds, with many stories to tell.

The chronicles of the red pyramid is a scenario of a different world where gods are much more closer to the world of flesh, where gods are much more flesh than spirit, where normal mortals can ascend to godhood. Where the werewolves were cursed into existence to roam between two worlds never belonging to any. The chronicles tell the tales of what happened, the current state and ways to break the curse.

#werewolf #Werewolf the Apocalypse #werewolf the forsaken #werewolves.#monster #monsters

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beyondconfessor · 3 years

Text

Requited Bindings [2/?]

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Zelda Spellman/Lilith

Summary: “Do you even understand the magic that you played with?” Ambrose asked. “Sabrina, you’ve bound the first woman, the first witch to our Aunt.”

N.B.: Also posted on AO3.

As much as she would have preferred to sit down for breakfast, the two slices of toast and morning coffee would have to sustain her for now as she quickly packed her bags. Hilda had tried, but honestly, the things she packed were utterly useless.

Incense, Hilda? What ritual would she be casting in Hell that required incense?

Lilith leant against the bedroom doorway, eyebrow raised as she looked over the contents of her bag. "You know you won't need half of that.”

Zelda bit back a response. Placing more books into the bag before zipping it up. Lilith may have her fair share of books, but Zelda had notes in the text and would need them to work on sermons. Given that most of her time would be spent in Hell, she needed something to occupy her time, amongst grading papers and structuring education.

"Is that everything?" Lilith asked as she pushed off the doorway and began opening random drawers in her dresser.

"Stop that, and yes, I have everything."

"Are you sure?" Lilith asked, pulling open a drawer containing undergarments. "These look important, have you packed enough?"

Zelda walked over and forcefully shut the drawer, glaring at Lilith. "Will you stop fingering my undergarments! We need to get to the Academy before the students' classes begin."

Lilith held Zelda's glare as she opened another drawer and began rummaging in that one as well. "Are you sure you've brought everything? You know, you may make some mistakes while you're down there, so we should probably bring this with us," Lilith said, holding out Zelda's leather scourge in hand. Zelda felt a hot fury flash through her, causing her magic to bubble to the surface of her skin.

"Give me that," she snapped, grabbing the whip and yanking it from the woman's hands. "Where in Heaven did you get that from?” It shouldn’t have been easily found, given that she had intentionally hidden it.

Lilith shrugged nonchalantly, her eyes once again roaming the room, likely looking for more secrets to discover as Zelda place the scourge back in her wardrobe on the top shelf. She wasn't sure how Lilith had managed to both find and present it to her, but she didn't have time to hide it from anyone else properly.

"Are you quite done?" Zelda asked as she picked up her bag.

Lilith looked away from the vanity set she'd been playing with and smiled at the woman, setting the comb and mirror down as she walked over to stand by Zelda. "Shall we?"

"I need to say goodbye to my family, given that apparently, I shall be seeing far less of them.”

Lilith nodded and gestured for Zelda to lead the way out of the bedroom and down the hall.

Zelda directed them downstairs to the breakfast table where Sabrina and Ambrose sat. All conversation ceased as they entered the room before Hilda walked over and placed another set of toast down for both women, this time with homemade blackberry jam. "Sit down. You've got enough time to finish your coffee before running off to the Academy."

Zelda sighed and reluctantly agreed.

Taking her place at the table, she flicked through the newspaper that had been laid out. The headline read of a political scandal, but nothing of worth. Flicking to the obituaries, she looked to see if there was anything worth having Hilda dig up.

"So Aunty, what was it like staying a night in Hell?" Ambrose asked. “Magister Deniuem once wrote that it could infect your dreams."

Zelda looked up from a newspaper and took a sip of coffee. Beside her, she noticed Lilith was quite happily tearing off pieces of toast and popping the small segments into her mouth before licking the jam off her fingers. Wrinkling her nose, she looked away.

"Fine," she said. "I slept like a newborn."

"She didn't snore or kick around in the bed either. Quite the sound sleeper," Lilith added, popping another segment of toast in her mouth as if she had merely commented on the weather and not insulated something Zelda would have preferred to keep quiet.

"You're sharing a bed?" Sabrina asked. "Did you––?”

"No," Zelda said before Lilith could wind her niece up any further. "It's just subterfuge. If Hell knew what had occurred, they would immediately try to seize the throne, or at the very least, see this as a weakness and attempt to go to war against yourself."

Sabrina's face pressed as she drew deep into her thoughts, while Ambrose looked like he was trying to simultaneously hide his amusement and become acutely aware of the cereal in his bowl.

"Speaking of, Hilda are you able to take this afternoon classes. I should be able to return in the evening.”

"Yes, shouldn't be an issue," Hilda said as she sat herself down at the table. "I've requested time off from the store given everything that's occurred with the pagans," Hilda said with a giggle. “Doctor Cee has been so, so lovely about it."

“Pagans. Here?” Lilith asked as she finished the last of the toast on her plate. “You need to eradicate them before they set their roots down.”

“That was the plan,” Zelda said. “But as you can see, our coven is still dangerous weakened. The last thing we need is to declare war against a commune that vastly outnumbers us.”

“Pathetic,” Lilith scoffed, cleaning her fingers as she stared at Zelda. “They’re pagans. Most of their magic comes from a drop of divinity long lost to breeding into mortals. Even outnumbered, they should barely serve more than an annoyance.”

Zelda felt her cheeks burn, a growing tightness in her chest as she dropped the newspaper down onto the table. “I beg your pardon?”

“Beg all you like, Zelda. If you can’t defeat a few pagans, I truly worry for the state of my so-called coven. Perhaps I should deal with them myself?”

“If anyone is to deal with them, it should be me,” Zelda snapped.

“And yet you’re not,” Lilith pointed out, “or were you hoping they would merely disappear if you glare hard enough?”

Hilda gave an uncomfortable squeak before turning to look at Zelda. “Hey now, there’s no need for that in the kitchen. How about we all settle down,” she said, as Zelda and Lilith continued to glare at each other. “Um, Zelds, how long until you find the little...um...cure to this little problem?"

Zelda felt the weight of exhaustion seep over her at the mention of it. "Ambrose?" she asked. "Did you look over the spell?"

Ambrose nodded. "I discussed with Sabrina the reversals you've tried to date. They're all that I would have tried if it were I in your position, Auntie. I'll head to the Academy's library today and try to dig further and see if anything like this has happened before. At the very least, we may be able to look at extending, the, erm, limitations you have.”

"Please be quick," she said, drawing her eyes back over her newspaper. While an extension wasn’t as preferable as a severing to the bond, it would certainly ease her mind somewhat.

She lifted the cup of tea to her lips, drawing her eyes to the clock that hung over the kitchen doorway before glancing to Lilith who seemed to be thriving in the uncomfortable air that laid over the kitchen. "We should discuss what we're going to say to the children about why you're there."

"I've taken a special interest in my flock, more hands-on?" Lilith suggested as she took a sip of her coffee. "Or I could just wear a glamour? I believe most of them recognise this face from Lucifer's little coronation ceremony, so it might do well to try and wear something new."

Zelda nodded. "A student would probably be easier; we could say you're from the old country and living with us for a time."

Lilith's form shifted, and then there was a young woman about Prudence’s age, with dark hair, brown skin and a round face sitting before her. She had even shifted her clothes to look more like Sabrina's, with a short corduroy skirt and a long-sleeved crop top.

Glamours usually took more ceremony with the process. Generally involving a charm of the person's belongings you were turning into or a mirror at the very least to alter the reflection, but she could taste the old magic in the air. This was what came from wandering the Earth over a few millennia.

Zelda turned to her niece. "She's not one of your school friends, is she?"

"No," Sabrina answered, but she looked unsettled. It was likely due to the fact the glamour was rather seamless, as far as glamours went. In lesser witches there was often something off about them, such as the skin looking too smooth, or usually, the mouth sitting a bit oddly, but Lilith's glamour was immaculate. She looked real.

It probably left the question of how many times had Lilith visited them all under some guise with none of them the wiser.

Rising from the table. Zelda sat her coffee cup down and wiped her fingers on a napkin. "Well, we can't call you Lilith, so what will we tell the others?"

"Mary's fine," Lilith said, her voice was warmer, sweeter with a Scottish lilt to it. That was frightening.

"No!" Sabrina said. "You can't steal everything of hers. Did you know that she's having nightmares from what happened, and she doesn't even know why?"

Lilith laughed, "Is she, how truly terrible!"

"Can't you just choose some other more witchy name?” Sabrina's faced turned to Zelda’s with a pleading look. “Something like Agnes or Megaera, or something?”

Lilith too turned to look over at Zelda sweetly as she flicked her long dark hair over her shoulder. "Witches find the use of biblical names dearly ironic, it would not be so out of character, would it, pet?"

Zelda closed her eyes briefly, loathing the diminutive name. However, Lilith was right, and she advised Sabrina as such. “There’s nothing wrong with the name.”

“That’s not fair,” Sabrina said, sitting back in her chair. "Please, Aunt Zee. Ms Wardwell has had enough taken from her. She thinks she's going crazy!” Unsurprising, Zelda thought. She was hell-touched after all, by a hell-being, and therefore damned.

"That may be, but the name Mary is not hers alone," she advised and immediately regretted it as Lilith grinned at her, not unlike a shark.

The witch stood up and walked over to Zelda, standing before her. Zelda didn't mind her in this form. It would easier to just find her the petulant child that she was. “Whatever the name,” Lilith said, “I would draw attention anyway––at least this way the students' suspicions will be diverted,” she said, before taking an apple from the fruit bowl and placing it behind her back, smiling up at Zelda.

Zelda rolled her eyes before looking at Sabrina with an attempt of an apology. If Lilith wanted the name Mary, then so be it.

Sabrina glared at her as if she’d somehow been the cause of this. “This is wrong.”

“That may be, but it’s done. Now, shall I expect to see you in class, later?”

Sabrina shrugged, a petulant look on her expression as she eyed Lilith with mistrust. "I have cheer practise this afternoon."

Of course, she did. Zelda breathed out through her nose, wishing she had time to light a cigarette. "Shall we?" she said to Lilith as she picked up the bag she'd left by the table.

Lilith grinned, linking arms with her in a way that seemed quite unlike her self and made Zelda all the more aware of how much the other witch was used to playing in new skins.

With a deliberate sigh, Zelda flicked her wrists and teleported both of them to her office in the Academy. At their arrival, however, the woman's hands gripped at her arm tightly.

Zelda wrenched away from the linked arms and stared at Lilith. "What are you trying to do?"

Lilith turned to her, an odd look on her face. "Lucifer's here?" she asked in a whisper, her voice void of all mischievousness for once. "You brought me to where you're keeping him?"

"He's locked up in the dungeons."

Lilith stepped around the room, fiddling with the apple she brought with her. "He'll likely know I'm here," she said to herself, the apple spinning over and over in her hands. "What Acheron are you keeping him in now?"

"Faustus."

There, Lilith laughed, but her expression paled again. "Damascus steel?"

"Of course."

"Heptagram?"

"Yes, believe me, we've taken all precautions."

"You know it's only time before he escapes," she said, turning to face Zelda before her expression shifted. “We’ll need a plan if we’re to survive.”

“Lilith he’s chained––at the very least, for now, he’s safe.”

Zelda watched as the girl (because she really did look very young and small all of a sudden) set the apple aside and brought her hands together. the expression shifting again to something playful and gone was whatever trepidation Lilith had. "We should discuss our relationship: student-teacher, I presume, or perhaps something more familiar? Last chance for you to resume as my concubine on Earth as it is in Hell?"

"The flirtation is far less endearing with that glamour," Zelda pointed out. "Try not to make a scene when you're in the class. I have enough problems as it is."

"Of course," Lilith said in such a way Zelda could feel that she was going to make a scene deliberately.

Zelda placed her bag down, by her desk and then went to her drawers, pulling out her day planner to shuffle through (she had another she kept on her person, but this one she kept at her desk) before rummaging through her lesson planner. Up first was transmutation, previously held by Artemisia Vines, but with the limited witches left, it remained on Zelda's shoulders like most of the classes.

"Do not undermine me," she warned towards Lilith. "Or I will personally make it my mission to make court life as difficult for you."

Lilith smiled at her, smoothing down her skirt. "I'll be a model student," she promised. “After all, I’m quite intrigued by the student’s aptitude.”

A knock sounded on her office door. Closing the drawer of her desk, she looked up and saw the faint image of Prudence.

"Come in," she called and watched as Prudence pushed the door open, stepping inside.

"Directrix Spellman," Prudence said, surprised. "Sabrina mentioned you were unwell."

"I'm fine, as you can see, Prudence."

Prudence opened her mouth and then closed it, before offering a shrug of her shoulders. "Would you like me to begin the class with chapter thirteen?"

"Please. I'll be with them soon."

Prudence nodded and went to shut the door before noticing the other girl in the room. Her eyes dragged over the figure curiously before shifting to look back at Zelda with an inquisitive raise of her brow.

"Family, from the old country," Zelda said in half explanation, gesturing loosely.

Prudence frowned but didn't argue, "of course," she said and closed the office door behind her. No doubt she would be looking to follow-up with Ambrose about that later. But if her nephew were smart, he would lead her to the answer without directly saying it.

Zelda took a moment to compose her self and ensure she had what she needed for the lesson before grabbing a spare textbook and handing it to Lilith. "Try to avoid talking to the other students. Try not to talk altogether if you can help it."

Lilith began thumbing through the textbook, ignoring her. If Zelda were lucky, it would keep her entertained for the rest of the class.

She led Lilith down to the classroom and had her sit in the seat usually reserved for Sabrina. Lilith sat down in her chair, back straight and began pouring through the textbook. Zelda sat a pen and pieces of paper on her desk, because she expected it of everyone, and began drawing upon the chalkboard as the class quietly read Chapter Thirteen.

The class’s eyes drew curiously over Lilith, but aside from a few shared looks, they kept to themselves. Good. It allowed her to focus on drawing up the blackboard without worrying about the class.

Prudence remained at her station at the front of the class, and Lilith had to admit she was quite proud of the girl. Despite everything that had happened over the last year, Prudence had made a sharp turn around and was flourishing in not just her witching abilities, but her leadership capabilities as well. Perhaps one day, she would even formally ask Zelda to be her mentor.

Stepping back from the board, she looked over the class. She caught a few staring blankly and another stifling a yawn.

Her eyes went to Lilith. The witch was sitting at the desk, pouring over the textbook with such fascination that Zelda could almost be fooled in thinking she wasn't paying attention to the class.

"Who can tell me the three basic principles of transmutation?"

Melvin raised his hand, as always in an eased effort to prove himself. "Ah, the first is 'Knowing', you can't turn an object into something you don't have a basic understanding of. Mass, you can only change something into equal or less than its original weight, but never more and ah..." he trailed off and his shoulders sunk.

"Very good, anyone else?" Zelda asked, pouring her eyes over the class. From the corner of her eye, she noticed Lilith’s eyes draw up from the textbook, watching the students with curiosity.

As no student raised their hand, Lilith sat back in the chair and began drumming her nails, as if deciding her coven's worth.

"Agatha, what's the third principle?" Zelda asked, snapping to look over the girl.

Agatha looked up from the book she had clearly not been reading and fumbled, "Oh, um. Colour?"

"Colour?" she returned, and the girl only stared up at her, fiddling with one of her plaits. "Have you completed transmutation before?"

"Yes, Directrix."

"And what did you transform?"

Agatha looked to Dorcas for help, before pulling back and sitting up straighter. "I changed a rock into a fish."

"And how did you do that?"

"With magic?" Agatha asked.

Zelda rolled her eyes and walked over to Agatha, picking up her pen. "If I turn this into a rock, what would I need to do?"

"Magic it."

"Yes, obviously I would use magic, but how would I do it?"

"Will it, I guess?"

"Correct. To turn this pencil," Zelda closed her hand and felt it shift into a smooth pebble the size of her thumbnail, "into a rock I would just have to will it. But what if I wanted to turn the pencil into a fish?"

"You would need an incantation?" Agatha twisted her plait tighter. "Maybe chalk to outline a fish?"

"So why would I only need to will it into an inanimate object, but to change it to a living thing, I would need an incantation or a ritual?"

Agatha opened her mouth, staring at the pencil and then sat back in her seat, looking lost. Zelda turned, looking over to the other students, but if they knew anything, they kept quiet. Zelda held her tongue, trying not to grow frustrated with them. This was fundamental transmutation, but either their education was lacking, or they were unwilling to offer answers that they already knew.

"Prudence?" she summoned.

"It's because you're changing something inanimate to animate. When you speak, you're summoning, which then pulls on deeper magics to create life. The larger the object, or the more complex the living thing, the more advanced the ritual required to summon the energy required."

"Thank you, Prudence." She set the rock down, returning to its original form on Agatha's desk and went over to the chalkboard writing up three of the principles. "If you know these principles, you can eventually learn to transform anything into something else, so as long as you have enough creativity."

She led the class through theory, briefly revising rhyming couplets for precise transformation and then had them stand up and turn their desks into a badger and back into desks. Only two students were successful, with the remaining fumbling over their dictation and causing one form of malformation or another instead, making the process of turning it back to a table far more difficult––which was what Zelda’s had hoped for.

There was more to be learnt in mistakes than there were with correct actions.

At the end of class, Zelda advised them that their homework was to transform an inanimate object into an animal and then back, as well as five hundred words as to what the causes of malformation were (generally dictation, half-rhymes or just lack of confidence).

When the students left, Zelda turned to Lilith, who was quietly sitting at her desk. Zelda had not called upon her to demonstrate, partially because she felt uncomfortable with that dynamic (only because Lilith would likely seek her revenge later), and partly because she knew the witch would be able to do it without a verbal incantation, which would only serve to make the other students feel worse in their abilities.

"You know, Zelda, if I'm to blend in here, you should treat me like any other student."

"As if you could blend in."

Lilith snapped her textbook shut and rose from the desk. Despite the youthful features, there was something there, something dark in the way she moved and held her expression that warned of a more significant threat, and then features smoothed and she was just another student.

It was unsettling.

"Is it lunchtime?" Lilith inquired.

"It is."

Zelda led them both back to her office where a tray had already been set with lunch (likely Hilda had run off before she had to collide paths with Lilith again). Usually, Zelda would run most of the classes, with things like botany and potions being held by Hilda who continued to hold expertise over her, and the remaining extracurricular classes taught by the skeleton staff.

As it was, Hilda had agreed to take the afternoon classes so that she could return to Hell with Lilith and complete the court and council meetings (that she honestly couldn't see the point of, at least here she was growing young minds).

Lilith took a seat on the edge of her desk and picked at the sandwiches Hilda had set aside for them and began flicking through the textbook, writing notes in the margins. Her legs were crossed, but Zelda watched at her foot bounced playfully. Again, it unsettled Zelda how easily the woman was able to dive into her new role. But she pressed the anxiety from her and focused on using her office time to adjust her planner going forward.

Usually, the lunch hour was also reserved for students to speak privately to her if they so needed, but more often than not, it was a quiet time.

It was foolish to think she could fit anything further than a few hours of the evenings in Hell to dedicate to marking, but if she had to spend her time in the throne room mentally planning her lessons and sermons, then so be it.

A knock sounded at her office as she was mid-way through replanning Wednesday. Looking up, she noticed Melvin standing at her door, sheepishly looking at Lilith.

"H-hello Directrix Spellman. I'd wondered if you'd had time to review the extra-credit I submitted for Conjuring?"

Zelda placed her pen down and watched as the boy curiously flicked his eyes to Lilith, who was still happily sipping at tea and making notes in the textbook. From the few words that Zelda could read, Lilith wasn't writing in any modern language.

"The extra-credit you submitted on Monday? No, I haven't had time to review it, Melvin."

"Oh," he said, though he didn't look entirely dejected. "Um, you never introduced us to..." he trailed off and gestured to Lilith.

Lilith looked up from the textbook and briefly glanced at the boy before sharing an unimpressed look with Zelda.

"This is my cousin's granddaughter, Mary," Zelda said. "She'll be staying with us for a while."

"At the Academy?" he asked with far too much hope. Zelda couldn't help but feel some pity with him. Had Lilith been able to wander the grounds on her own, no doubt she would have devoured him, quite literally.

"With me," she clarified. "Was there something else you were after, Melvin?"

"I know how confusing the school can be, so I thought I might check if Mary needed any help getting used to the classes, or-"

"She's quite fine."

Melvin paled and stood up straight. "Of course. Um, thank you, Directrix," he said rather awkwardly before backing out of the office.

Lilith took another sandwich. "You know you should eat. You won't get a chance in Hell."

Zelda snatched at a sandwich and sat back in her chair. They would need to leave soon. She had hoped to run into Hilda before they left, but she would, no doubt, see her in the evening after classes.

"What if I brought food to Hell."

"Wouldn't work," Lilith reminded her, before pausing and looking up from her textbook. "Maybe canned food?"

Zelda waved the thought away. Canned food was for mortals who didn't have time outside of their tedious office work.

Maybe she would have something cured.

The day went by fast, and before long, she found herself in Hell again. This time, Lilith’s transportation was gentler. She admired the mark on Zelda’s neck as she undressed, and then chose an appropriate outfit for them both, before leading them to the throne room.

It was to be a long day, Zelda realised once the first Demon entered with his gaggle of under demons and began speaking the longest monologue Zelda had ever been disgraced with.

An hour must have past as she shifted her feet, trying to ease the ache growing in her back from standing so tall behind the throne. It didn't help that the dress Lilith had chosen for her today was heavier than the previous one, and also required Zelda to wear stays underneath it.

It wasn't that it was laced too tightly, but it was starting to pinch under her arms, and she couldn't shift until the current demon left the throne room, but going by his current rant, she expected they were only halfway through his problems.

Zelda glance to her right, noticing that even Lilith was looking exhausted by this. Her lips were drawn back in a near snarl for the demon to just get to the fucking point. (He was from the sixth circle, and they tended to talk around in circles, likely due to their more frequent dealings with politicians and mortal priests).

"-which as you can understand is completely unacceptable. For one, we don't even deal with that kind down there. As you know, we deal with a far more elite kind of persons, though they tend to be a bit chatty and––” Zelda pushed her tongue to the back of her teeth, stifling the yawn before it could show on her face.

During the current court session, Zelda had already finished the outline of her sermon and ran over three more times to be sure it was memorised for when she had a spare moment to write it down.

"Enough!" Lilith snapped.

Zelda turned to face her. The woman was snarling now as she rose to her feet. Perhaps she’d misjudged the expression.

"Are you telling me that you've promised ten thousand of our souls to some backwater realm that no one worships any more?"

The demon slunk backwards a step, before remembering himself. The gaggle of lesser demons at his feet crept behind his shadow to cower from the Mother of Demons. “My lady, if you'd-"

"What did they provide, Sabnock? What do you lack in Hell?”

"They provided old secrets in turn."

"Secrets?" Lilith hissed, raising her brow. "What secrets did they have that were worth ten thousand souls?"

Zelda watched as his large chest swelled up as he stood tall. "The contract was made, and so it must be kept."

"Was is agreed to by the Dark Lord?" Lilith asked as she stepped forward, to the front of the dais, "or did you come to the decision thinking of how pleased He might be, only to realise that you'd been swindled and it might be best if you withheld the truth until they came to collect?"

The demon was quiet, standing tall but Zelda could see his tail flicking underneath his coat. "The deal was made after the Dark Lord left to the Earthen plane."

"I see." Lilith had gone still in a way that reminded Zelda of a snake waiting to strike. The silence remained, uncomfortably long, and then the demon stepped backwards, looking as though he was about to cast a spell. He had only drawn a single breath when Lilith flicked her wrist.

A steel spike split from the ceiling, striking down through the demon's throat and pinning him to the ground where he twitched like a fly that had had its wings removed. The lesser demons began to scatter, but as they did, Lilith flicked both hands this time, and they all fell at once with a horrible cracking noise.

Zelda recoiled at the sudden impact, her mouth parting in horror.

A tightness tugged at her, and Zelda realised she’d been too focused on the creature to notice Lilith’s descent down the stairs. The woman paused on the last stair, waiting for her to move.

Zelda quickly followed Lilith, descending the steps with her as she walked over to the Demon Prince and watched him squirm as ichor ran down the spike. Lilith’s heels were sharp on the marble floor, and Zelda felt her heart in her throat with each step as they grew closer and closer to the twitching demon. He was alive, but for how long?

Lilith sneered at him, "You've disappointed me. I should burn your kingdom to ashes for this."

The demon convulsed, a strange sound garbled through his throat, but whatever he was trying to say was lost against the steel spike.

Lilith made a disgusted noised before she stepped back and walked away, through to a set of double doors. Zelda followed after her, though she would prefer to be far away from the witch after witnessing what she had.

The gallery they walked through was terrifying, with strange creatures heads mounted to the walls and a carpet the squelched underneath her feet. Lilith led the way with a particular stiffness in her spine that kept Zelda silent, unwilling to voice her concern. She knew of Lilith’s power, had read about it, had witnessed it when the woman had bound Lucifer still.

But to see it like that was another thing entirely.

They pushed through a set of doors into a hall, crossing straight across to a simple wooden door that led into a circular stairway, dimly lit by torches on the wall.

Zelda wanted to demand where they were going, but she didn't know what the woman would do if she said anything, and right now, it was all Zelda could do to focus on descending.

The steps were damp and smelled of mildew and brimstone. Lilith's descent was sure and fast, but Zelda wasn't, she felt that at any moment she would slip and tumble down the stairs horribly and as such kept a hand on the cold wall as her other tried to hold her skirts up high enough that each step didn't trip over the material.

There was a tugging sensation again, and Lilith stopped on the stairs, her shoulders tense.

"Ten thousand souls," she hissed in the darkness. "What fool gives away ten thousand souls for secrets?" She turned to look up at Zelda as if only realising that she was there. "I wouldn't breathe a word of this ordeal to anyone, including your dear niece if you want to live."

"Hell is in no short supply of souls. Why is this such a concern?”

"It's not about the number of souls. It's that a deal was made without sanction. " Lilith raked a hand across her stomach and leant back again wall, suddenly looking very tired. "If Sabrina loses, there will be no haven on Hell or Earth," she said.

"Sabrina won't lose,"

Lilith turned, looking at Zelda. "Even if she wins, they won't accept her. She will need to break them into submission, likely go to war against them to quell whatever revolt comes out of this. And your niece may be powerful, but she is not ruthless enough to win a war against Hell. When I ruled, they didn’t nearly have enough votes to depose me, but it only took days to go against her.”

Zelda agreed, despite the fact it made her stomach twist uncomfortably at what that meant.

Sabrina had always been tenderhearted in a way witches rarely were. She was stubborn, insubordinate and proud, all traits that Zelda admired even when she found herself furious with the girl, but Sabrina's defining belief was that life was precious and worth preserving. No, Lilith was right, she wouldn't win a war against demons.

Maybe in a hundred years or so, Sabrina would grow to understand that not all life was created equally, but for now, she was just a teenager.

"Then you'll be ruthless for her," Zelda stated firmly. "You'll be her left hand, and when they fear you, they'll follow her."

"Fear me?" Lilith laughed before she began to ascend the stairs to stand in front of Zelda. "Don't you see? They don't fear me. They don't even respect me."

"So make them, was that not what you were doing before?"

Lilith shrugged. "I mean, what's the point? When little Sabrina ascends the throne and Caliban fails, they'll slaughter her and select some new prince to sit the throne until they grow bored of that one and on-and-on it'll go for the next millennia."

"Surely-"

"There's no 'surely' about it!” Zelda felt her back hit the wall as the woman pressed her hands onto the bodice of her dress, pressing her to the wall. "Maybe you and I will escape to the fae and hide out the rest of our lives there, bonded for all eternity. Or maybe you and I will just be the appetiser to their Feast of Feasts of dear, roasted Morningstar.” The woman’s face turned almost comically feral as she leant in. “I’ve heard that getting the eye whole is meant to provide wisdom."

Zelda felt her anger rise as she pushed the hands from her waist. "This is not some joke––!”

"No, it's not a joke or a game or whatever your niece thought when she decided on a whim to take the throne, and yet here we are, in Hell with a child deciding to spruce up a place with no understanding of its inhabitants while I try to soothe the masses who are close to deciding that there shouldn't be a throne in the first place."

Lilith's face shifted, revealing bone-deep exhaustion that hadn't been present in her face before. It cut at the edges of her eyes and sunk her shoulders, and with it, Zelda realised the truth.

"You did this for the Dark Lord."

"Well, he was never very much into paperwork, but he was able to frighten them all on his own. He could be terrifying when he wanted to."

"And the other times?" Zelda inquired.

Lilith looked away, a dark look on her eyes as she drew back from Zelda. "I did what was necessary, but don't get the wrong idea; Lucifer was still very much the driving force in that. With Sabrina's current cheerleading demeanour, she won't even make the Kings nervous about consequences."

"We need to do something."

"As it is, I'll need to lay some waste to Sabnock's land to teach them a lesson." There was a growl to her voice, and Zelda licked her lips, nervous at the idea of what that would mean.

"Is that where you're leading us?"

Lilith didn't answer her, only brushed past her on the stairs and continued to head down the endless stairwell.

"What of the kings, are you not meant to be meeting them soon?"

"I'm sure they'll get the message," Lilith answered over her shoulder.

#zelda spellman #lilith #zelith #madam spellman #caos fanfic

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alchemist-shizun · 4 years

Text

Darkness falls in time

Read on Ao3!

Word Count: 2,699

Characters: Deceit, Remus (minorly) and a new boy. (Ophis is Deceit’s pet snake gifted by the other sides)

Pairing(s): Either none or open to interpretation

Warning(s): Major character death, suicide, self-harm implication, one mention of knife, relapse, sort of panic attack, poisoning, blood mentions, pet death.

Summary: Deceit was failing and he wasn’t able to admit it to himself. What the others weren’t aware of was that it wasn’t entirely his fault.

A/N: OH BOY Y'ALL this idea came from this post my dear friend Lance made, and I thought why not make a sequel to “As soon as the curtain is raised”? You don’t really have to read the other one to understand this one, just know that Deceit went too far with trying to be accepted and all the rest of the sides ultimately noticed and helped him. Please be mindful of the heavy topics of this fic and stay safe. Hope you enjoy! Is this my take on the orange side who knows maybe not oops

✾

❝ Close your eyes, scoop the wind, dissolve yourself, ring the bells.

No matter how many times the thunder hits, I will go beyond the darkness while singing. ❞

Relapsing.

Worsening. Deteriorating. Degenerating. Sickening. Weakening.

Failing.

Deceit was failing and he wasn’t able to admit it to himself, let alone the others.

Erosion, a natural, gradual and undetectable disaster now applied to all the improvement he had reached in such a long time.

Useless steps forward against an enormous jump meters back, as if startled by his own progress.

His fingers trailed over his left cheek, barely brushing the uneven path his scales left; normally when he did that, Ophis would appear between his hands in all his grace, reminding him how blindingly charming snake skin looked with his bright yellow pigment.

Were he able to move in that particular moment, he would’ve checked on him.

Instead, his eyes seemed to widen from the perpetual frowning gaze and fixate on the rug.

Just like one of those alluring energies that pulled you towards an unknown destination, Deceit was unconsciously being dragged back into the dark pit of his own tragic fall.

Urgings of all kinds piled up on top of each other, resulting in nothing but chaos as he moved his eyes regretfully to his hands.

Held up at chest level, he could barely make out the outline of those trembling sunny gloves that he would have been able to rip apart into shreds at any given moment.

It wasn’t himself. It was that again. Testing and trying him so that could seek delight in his decadence.

Deceit parted his lips and focused all of his strength in his throat, forcing out any sound that could have made sense.

Which didn’t happen immediately.

Instead, a choking sensation pervaded his body and he forgot how to breathe altogether.

Not even gasping for air, he waited until he was so devoid of oxygen that he sucked in a short breath in a tick.

« Rem, » he knew Remus was on the other end of the couch, busying himself with whichever object he had previously created.

« Dee? » the duke had been eyeing him from that exact spot for a good minute by then, preparing for an eventual need of assistance.

That was the case, indeed.

Remus studied his friend’s complexion: his focus completely on himself, the realization that he was not going to steady himself without help. Deceit kept staring at his hands, the unstoppable visible shaking setting dread in his insides, all while hunched over himself.

He watched him meet his eyes with a careful movement of his head.

« Stop me. »

That was the cue.

Stop me, or I won’t be able alone. Stop me, or I will rip off the skin from my face again. Stop me, or I will scream until my voice is soar and I will hate myself.

Stop me.

Or I will regret it.

Dark Creativity moved, impossibly cautious as he laced his fingers around Deceit’s wrists in a loose lock.

Frantic heartbeats coming from the trembling side were all that separated them.

Remus drew ghost lines on the other’s arm, so to give him some sense of grounding reality; he pulled both to each other’s feet, beginning their journey towards their usual destination during severe episodes of relapse: the Imagination.

Roman and Remus had found their hangout place to be an effective solution, as futile as it could sound.

Despite it being the literal embodiment of unreality, it helped Deceit visualize his damaging memories and destroy them altogether.

Once they left the room, a young petite snake shifted ever so slightly in his aquarium: Ophis was used to being a comfort pet for the troubled side, but was always kept aside when the most urgent relapsing struck.

It was crystal clear already that Deceit hadn’t been doing well.

Ophis was there so he reminded himself of a daily routine, so he would feed him and check on him constantly and set himself back on track with his tasks.

Yet, in the last few weeks the days in which Deceit would forget to give the tiny pet his food would increase, he would carry through the hours without allowing himself a break to pet him for a while, sinking deeper in his melancholy state instead.

If only Roman had also given Ophis the ability to notify them when things were going downhill.

Even if he had been able to, he wouldn’t have probably had enough strength to do it: it wasn’t like none other than Deceit cared about him, but lately events had been so shaky and everyone was rushing to get Deceit to calm down, ending up with innocently failing to remember Ophis would get ill.

And getting ill he did.

The worst case scenario: he represented the deterioration his owner’s mind was being subjugated to.

Which meant ultimately that was only little time left before the inevitable.

Because of that, that destroyer of psyche.

In another side of the Mindscape, Remus was still leading his friend toward a worn-looking door he crossed everyday; he’d recall memories here and there, making sure Deceit was focused on the present reality.

« Go on, then, » once inside the Imagination, they stopped in the middle of nothingness. « Relinquish it all. »

Deceit hadn’t found it difficult the first time he tried to bend the landscape to his will, it seemed his willpower to recall disastrous events outweighed Remus’s own creative flow.

He had his eyes closed out of habit, preparing himself to the blight he’d caused.

« Uh … why is it all dark? » the duke called at his side, looking around himself for any of his usual ferocious creatures.

A reminded that was still there.

« Please no, leave me alone. » Deceit muttered under his breath, looking towards the sky in defeat.

« What are- Do you want me to leave? »

He looked at his friend, who had misunderstood who his interlocutor was.

And nodded.

Facing that alone it was, then.

Remus raised an eyebrow, unconvinced and hesitant as he headed for the door.

« Just shout something lewd when you need me. »

Deceit let himself chuckle. « As per usual, will do. »

Then Remus left.

Then he started running.

Ophis watched as the duke made his entrance with no trophy: doom hovered upon them as the snake remembered that everytime Deceit was left alone in the Imagination, his condition would unfathomably worsen.

« He said I had to leave. » he mused whilst pacing towards the pet. « It’s not like I don’t trust him, but this whole ordeal is kinda suspicious. »

Ophis watched with half-lidded eyes as Dark Creativity brushed part of his skin.

« But what do you know? » he shrugged. « I don’t think there’s anything dangerous in the complete nothingness anyway. »

The snake was barely able to keep staring at the bright green and pitch black of his clothing.

« This little guy seems sleepy, huh? » Remus took a step back from the aquarium.

« I’ll leave you be, too. »

Deceit had started running.

In the deepness of the obscurity left by his mind’s amalgamation of perceiving and memories, now become the reality around him, he slowed only once a moonlit spot sparkled between what appeared to be leafless trees blackened by trauma.

He halted to look around himself multiple times.

« What do you want?! » the desperate called out at the sky, hands curled into fists as his arms were slightly raised. « Just tell me what you want and leave me alone, please! »

Low chuckling came thundering like an ancient deity upon preying a hopeless faithful mortal.

Deceit shook his head, holding it between his hands only to glance back at the dark clouds descending before him.

An anthropomorphic figure he recognized all too well distinguished itself from its smokey frame, two arms crossed over a chest, a finger tapping eagerly.

An open-mouthed mischievous grin embellished the ever-changing shape of that face.

Two eyes opened and a pair of orange, almost golden irises pierced through Deceit, as bright as the incandescent steel of a soon-to-be weapon.

His feet touched the ground, sizzling the grass until it disintegrated in grey ashen particles, becoming one with the trail of obsidian mist left behind every single inch of his outline.

He looked like he was about to fade away at any given moment.

Deceit had already been wearing a worn expression by the time he approached, leaving the air heavy around them, as if a bubble of destruction had just encaged them.

The figure widened its smile.

« Get out. » the side muttered, finding breathing an overbearing task all of a sudden. « Why are you finding this so funny? Just- get over yourself! »

He stepped forward until only a few inches separated them, chuckling again as fingers acuminated like a knife cupped Deceit’s face, cutting his cheeks with evanescent fog.

« Oh, angel, you know I can’t simply do that, »

« Don’t call me that. » the side lowered his eyebrows, squinting.

« There’s no fun in waiting around … Why not just strike at once every now and then? » a fabricated pitiful gaze met disgust. « You know how I am, after all. Who I am. »

« I’m tired of playing your idiotic games, » Deceit leaned in with venom on his tongue as he sputtered out his name. « Decay. »

Decay made a sound in the back of his throat. « And yet you seem to still fall for them. How peculiar. » he let his arms fall to his side, eyes lingering on the other’s face as the black vapour left his cheeks gradually. « Why? » taking a step backward, his voice grew louder. « Can you not resist me, angel? » a lopsided smile framed his last word.

« You know exactly the reason why. You’re doing dirty work you’re not supposed to out of spite. » Deceit referenced in his mind the countless times his conditions had kept decreasing to a point of no return, especially when he had started picking at his scales, months prior.

And Decay knew that.

Because he had been the cause of it all along.

« You know, sometimes I don’t understand. » as he paced around the side, anything he touched dissolved into the void of non-existence. « You’ve been rejected, and I was, too. »

That had happened a long time earlier.

Decay had strived for so long to become a side, but never succeeded as his sole purpose served as a mean of deterioration of Thomas’s mind. His actions had been purely destructive and they had to keep him at bay to protect the entirety of the Mindscape and Thomas’s brain itself.

His was one of those overwhelming powers not even he could control, or rather, he didn’t want to control them; destruction was something that needed to be slow and progressive, while Decay was not one for patience at all.

They made him let off steam by keeping him in the Imagination and having the two Creativities deal with him, letting him damage catastrophically anything they built.

Remus was the best at keeping up with him, but there were times in which both he and Roman came back from their encounter absolutely devastated, pushed over their limit.

It was then that Thomas was the most stressed out, so they all teamed up to make sure they would get some rest and a break.

But Decay would eventually come back, eager to unleash his energy even stronger than before, getting worse by the days.

None of them would have been able to stand a chance against him in the long run.

And now, tired of the monotone fights with Roman and Remus, he decided to strike his blow on Deceit, making only him pay for the grudges he held against all of the sides.

« So I wonder … » he stopped to rest an arm on Deceit’s shoulder, who believed for a moment it would fall right through him.

He felt his clothes almost burning, Decay’s eyes stabbing the side of his face, pleading to be taken into consideration.

« Why are you still in my way? »

Deceit bit the inside of his cheek, fighting the self-destructive urges such closeness with the other caused; were he to move, he would have fallen to his knees.

« Our circumstances differ for one detail: the only reason why I’ve been “rejected”, as you put it, is because of a misunderstanding between me and Thomas, which I will resolve in due time. »

« Yeah, that’s it. » Decay’s fingers dug in his skin. « Is that the line you learnt by heart to appease yourself? » it felt like Deceit’s own venom had started circulating in his thoughts instead of his blood. « Is that what you tell yourself everytime a hint of doubt crosses your mind? » the pitiful tone came back.

Decay chuckled and placed a hand on Deceit’s left cheek. « Oh, angel, » he carefully moved his head so the other looked at him. « It doesn’t work like that against me. »

All Deceit wanted was to push him away, yet he hurt all over, so all he could fathom to do was comply to that tedious monologue and refrain from punching that delicate face that was way too impending on himself.

« You of all people should know that lying isn’t necessary in this situation. So why do you keep trying? »

« Can we skip this futile blabber and get to the point already? »

« How long has it been since you started trying to convince yourself you might make it? »

Deceit shuddered. « Shut up. »

« They accepted Remus before they even considered you. »

« Shut up. » he curled his hands into fists at his sides. « I’m not falling for your trap again. »

« Oh, are you sure about that, angel? » Decay stepped aside to stare him down: he was met with a trembling body, as shaky as a winter’s leaf, eyes about to spill some tears and mind on the verge of a serious breakdown.

Decay was surprised he had endured his presence that long.

Two different coloured irises bored into intensely orange ones, between fear, determination and the will to wreak havoc.

« Yes, » Deceit turned, finally faced him, and focused his strength on lifting one of his arms to grip at Decay’s shoulder. He remembered they were in the Imagination, which permitted him to bend it to his own will, too.

« Want to know why? »

At once, Decay’s misty presence became a perfectly distinguishable body and, as he was too busy being astonished and looking at his solid self, Deceit opened the button on one of his gloves and brought his wrist to his teeth the moment Decay’s glance fell back on the side’s face.

Ophis felt it.

He knew when Deceit dipped his teeth in his veins and let the venom pour and infect his blood, he knew when Deceit squeezed his eyes shut like it was all an ineffable nightmare.

He knew when they were both about to die.

So Ophis let himself rest in his lonely aquarium, while Remus was sharing his doubts with Roman in the other living room, unknowing.

« Because, »

Decay’s disbelief didn’t falter as Deceit reached him, his feet slithering on the disintegrated grass.

The side portrayed a tight lipped sad smile, but with a hint of triumph.

« I’m taking you down with me. »

Deceit pulled Decay’s arm to his mouth, stabbing his skin open with his canines and crushing Decay’s own degeneration with the most catastrophic poison.

Black and purple painted their veins: wide eyes accused the snake-faced side, the same eyes that stared down at their owner’s newly acquainted body fading away into the wind the same way he had dissolved the grass around him before.

And when those same two eyes disappeared the way they came to be, for the last time, Deceit allowed himself to rest.

He fell to the ground and slipped into eternal slumber.

#purp's writings #deceit sanders #remus sanders #ts deceit #ts remus #imma give a name to the new character #ts decay #ts ophis #there the snake too #sanders sides #fanfiction #ts fanfic #angst #read the warnings #tw major character death #tw suicide #tw blood #pet death

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autolovecraft · 3 years

Text

His head was broken in, and everything was tumbled about.

Just where to begin Birch's story I can hardly decide, since I am no practiced teller of tales.

He was curiously unelated over his impending escape, and almost dreaded the exertion, for his form had the indolent stoutness of early middle age. But it would be well to say as little as could be said, and to use it when Asaph Sawyer died of a malignant fever. He had even wondered, at Sawyer's funeral, how the vindictive farmer had managed to lie straight in a box so closely akin to that of the diminutive Fenner. His head was broken in, and everything was tumbled about. Finally he decided to lay a base of three parallel with the wall, to place upon this two layers of two each, and upon these a single box to serve as the platform. For an impersonal doctor, Davis' ominous and awestruck cross-examination became very strange indeed as he sought to drain from the weakened undertaker every least detail of his horrible experience. When Dr. Davis left Birch that night he had taken a lantern and gone to the old receiving tomb. Better still, though, he would utilize only two boxes of the base to support the superstructure, leaving one free to be piled on top in case the actual feat of escape required an even greater altitude. Sawyer died of a malignant fever. It was Asaph's coffin, Birch, just as I thought!

Instinct guided him in his wriggle through the transom. He was oddly anxious to know if Birch were sure—absolutely sure—of the identity of that top coffin of the pile; how he had distinguished it from the inferior duplicate coffin of vicious Asaph Sawyer. Steeled by old ordeals in dissecting rooms, the doctor entered and looked about, stifling the nausea of mind and body that everything in sight and smell induced.

Fortunately the village was small and the death rate low, so that it was possible to give all of Birch's inanimate charges a temporary haven in the single antiquated receiving tomb. And so the prisoner toiled in the twilight, heaving the unresponsive remnants of mortality with little ceremony as his miniature Tower of Babel rose course by course. Neither did his old physician Dr. Davis, who died years ago. For an impersonal doctor, Davis' ominous and awestruck cross-examination became very strange indeed as he sought to drain from the weakened undertaker every least detail of his horrible experience. It was generally stated that the affliction and shock were results of an unlucky slip whereby Birch had locked himself for nine hours in the receiving tomb of Peck Valley; and was a very calloused and primitive specimen even as such specimens go. I'll never get the picture out of my head as long as I live. To him Birch had felt no compunction in assigning the carelessly made coffin which he now pushed out of the enlarged transom; but he could do better with four. Most distinctly Birch was lax, insensitive, and professionally undesirable; yet I still think he was not an evil man. The undertaker grew doubly lethargic in the bitter weather, and seemed to outdo even himself in carelessness. The air had begun to be exceedingly unwholesome; but to this detail he paid no attention as he toiled, half by feeling, at the heavy and corroded metal of the latch. God, what a rage! Maddened by the sound, or by the stench which billowed forth even to the open air, the waiting horse gave a scream that was too frantic for a neigh, and plunged madly off through the night, the wagon rattling crazily behind it. As he planned, he could not but wish that the units of his contemplated staircase had been more securely made. He was a scoundrel, and I don't blame you for giving him a cast-aside coffin, but you got what you deserved. Then he fled back to the lodge and broke all the rules of his calling by rousing and shaking his patient, and hurling at him a year ago last August … He was the devil incarnate, Birch, but you got what you deserved. He confided in me because I was his doctor, and because he probably felt the need of confiding in someone else after Davis died. Being without superstition, he did not care to imagine.

He was a scoundrel, and I don't blame you for giving him a cast-aside coffin! Birch heeded this advice all the rest of his life till he told me his story; and when I saw the scars—ancient and whitened as they then were—I agreed that he was wise in so doing. Instinct guided him in his wriggle through the transom.

Neither did his old physician Dr. Davis, who died years ago. He gave old Matt the very best his skill could produce, but was thrifty enough to save the stoutly built casket of little Matthew Fenner for the top, in order that his feet might have as certain a surface as possible. It was generally stated that the affliction and shock were results of an unlucky slip whereby Birch had locked himself for nine hours in the receiving tomb of Peck Valley Cemetery, escaping only by crude and disastrous mechanical means; but while this much was undoubtedly true, there were other and blacker things which the man used to whisper to me in his drunken delirium toward the last. He had not forgotten the criticism aroused when Hannah Bixby's relatives, wishing to transport her body to the cemetery in the city whither they had moved, found the casket of Judge Capwell beneath her headstone. Certainly, the events of that evening greatly changed George Birch. Birch, and I don't blame you for giving him a cast-aside coffin, but you got what you deserved. His thinking processes, once so phlegmatic and logical, had become ineffaceably scarred; and it was pitiful to note his response to certain chance allusions such as Friday, Tomb, Coffin, and words of less obvious concatenation. Birch. For the long-neglected latch was obviously broken, leaving the careless undertaker trapped in the vault, a victim of his own oversight. There was nothing like a ladder in the tomb.

He could, he was sure, get out by midnight—though it is characteristic of him that this thought was untinged with eerie implications.

The practices I heard attributed to him would be unbelievable today, at least in a city; and even Peck Valley would have shuddered a bit had it known the easy ethics of its mortuary artist in such debatable matters as the ownership of costly laying-out apparel invisible beneath the casket's lid, and the latch of the great door yielded readily to a touch from the outside. For an impersonal doctor, Davis' ominous and awestruck cross-examination became very strange indeed as he sought to pull himself up, when he noticed a queer retardation in the form of an apparent drag on both his ankles. On the afternoon of Friday, April 15th, then, Birch set out for the tomb with horse and wagon to transfer the body of Matthew Fenner. I'd hate to have it aimed at me!

Certainly, the events of that evening greatly changed George Birch. In time the hole grew so large that he ventured to try his body in it now and then, shifting about so that the narrow ventilation funnel in the top ran through several feet of earth, making this direction utterly useless to consider.

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thebmatt · 3 years

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Another set of Character Development questions, this time very specific to FFXIV

I cam across another set of character development questions on the Emet-Selch Bookclub discord, and since I love these things, I’m going to answer all 35 of them for all 4 of my crew! Ready? Let’s go!

1. Where were they during the Calamity?

Franks had not yet made the journey between their worlds yet, he only did so about a year into the Seventh Umbral Era.

Fearless was still living on Aerslant, which I don’t know if there’s any canonical description of how the Calamity affected that region, but I’m going to go with “they felt the effects, but it wasn’t quite mass chaos like it was in Eorzea”

Dahkar and Rheika were both living in the Black Shroud but were mostly spared the direct effects.

2. How did they acquire their Echo?

All four of them received the Echo as it plays out in the MSQ. Dahkar and Rheika got it after dealing with the enraged treants at Lifemend Stump, Fearless and Franks after fighting the frenzied Mossback at the Seasong Grotto

3. Does their Echo function like it does in the MSQ? Or is there a twist to it?

For the most part it functions like it does in the MSQ, but there’s some extra abilities that it provides that I’m planning on exploring in a future fic. To summarize: the Armory system is represented as a pocket dimension the Warriors can store clothing, weapons, and tools in. The Echo also allows them to “pause and save” any learning they have done in a particular discipline and resume it as if no time had passed whenever they choose

4. Do they have a canon mount or minion? What's its name(s)?

All four of them have their chocobos, which I don’t have names for yet (the ones in game aren’t canon, as they’re mostly inside jokes). Aside from those, two of my crew have a couple of mounts special to them.

Franks has kept Maggie, the Magitek Armor liberated by the Garlond Ironworks. Most recently, he’s taken to using a Gabriel Alpha magitek unit that he liberated and rebuilt from the Bozjan Southern Front

Rheika is incredibly fond of the True Griffin she befriended while helping the Ananta at Castellum Velodyna.

5. Where are they from? What was their childhood like?

I’ve covered this in some of my “Details!” posts I’ve done for them all, so I’ll be brief here

Franks - from another world, grew up on a farm, pretty normal farmer’s childhood

Rheika - grew up outside of Gridania in a Keeper of the Moon community, a middleish child of a large number of sisters. Aside from being made to understand WAY too early that the Wood Wailers will always treat her like a second class citizen because she is a Keeper of the Moon, she had a pretty happy childhood

Dahkar - Born on the Azim Steppe, mother took him to Gridania after his tribe was killed. Similarly treated like outsider, but otherwise kept mostly to himself, only meeting a couple of friends growing up.

Fearless - born and raised in Aerslant, the Sea Wolf Roegadyn homeland. Child of wealthy parents, she had a privileged upbringing but no choice in anything.

6. How did they deal with the massacre on the Waking Sands?

All of them were horrified and angry by it. Franks had never really experienced the Garlean Empire’s brutality firsthand before this, and it cemented a personal desire to fight them. Fearless, who’d begun to develop serious feelings for Minfilia, was almost beside herself with worry.

7. How did they deal with Haurchefant's death?

All of them took it pretty hard, but Dahkar, who’d been romantically involved with him by this point, was almost broken by it. His grief nearly consumed him in rage, quite literally, but “Fray” managed to help him hold it together until he could process and grieve.

8. How did they feel about the liberation of Ala Mhigo? Do they feel it could have been handled differently? Where they at all bothered by how they were involved?

I get the sense from the way this question was worded that the original author doesn’t care for the Stormblood storyline much, but honestly, I don’t have a problem with it. None of my crew are native Ala Mhigans, but they were all too happy to participate when it became clear that the time for it to happen had been chosen for everyone by Ilberd’s actions. Plus, y’know, there was that whole potential Bahamut-level primal they needed to deal with. Losing so handily to Zenos was a serious morale blow that messed them all up quite a bit, but all four of them went along with the plan. It offered them a chance to get better, to weaken the Empire and strengthen themselves.

9. How do they feel about Zenos?

THey all hate the guy for nearly killing so many of their friends and injuring them so badly. Later, pretty much universal relief when he died, pissed off that he didn’t stay that way, and now hell-bent on ending him once and for all. All of them pretty much agree that bastard needs to die.

10. How do they feel about their relationship with Hydaelyn? Midgarsormr?

Initially they accepted that Hydaelyn was a benevolent force, but once they learned of her origin, especially that she was a primal, a private debate broke out among them all the first chance they got to talk about it (which was after the Shadowbringers 5.0 MSQ when Rheika finally got back to the Source). Franks is very concerned that they’ve been tempered. Dahkar is now extremely wary of her, but isn’t certain their free will has been removed. Rheika and Fearless are unwilling to give up on her, but don’t understand why she stopped speaking to them.

Initially, they were all furious at Midgardsormr, but came to realize that his deeds in severing their connection to Hydaelyn definitely made them stronger. They now regard him as a friend and a source of wisdom.

11. Were they more sympathetic to the dragons, Ishgardians, neither or both?

Franks wasn’t certain of this, having known sentient dragons that had absolutely been wronged by mortals in his homeworld, but he didn’t see a way to fix this on his own, so he went along with helping the Ishgardians. He was absolutely on board with Alphinaud’s plan to try and end it, however.

The others had far less experience with Dragons, and initially accepted their version of events without much thought. They immediately turned on the whole idea when the deception was exposed, though.

12. How has their job affected whatever headcanon version is of the MSQ if any?

As I’ve explained in previous posts, I’ve parsed out all of the jobs (except Monk) to my characters, with the aim of balancing the following ideas.

○ At all times during the story, one of them should be capable of tanking, one healing, and the others DPSing ○ If possible no one should have more than 1 job from any of the 5 roles ○ Obviously, don’t give jobs to characters that make no sense for them to pick up

It’s taken a few revisions, but I’m currently happy with the setup they have. For the most part, they’re extremely proficient with their chosen fighting styles and don’t mind swapping around to fill whatever need is present. For Heavensward, the trio who got their new jobs in Ishgard chose to stick with them for the most part, and for much of the Far Eastern parts of Stormblood, Rheika and Fearless chose to stay Ninja and Samurai for the most part, since it felt “right” to them to use those arts when fighting for Doma’s liberation.

13. Are they close with any of the other Scions? Who do they get along with the best?

Franks gets along best with the more scholarly minded members of the Scions, specifically Y’shtola, Urianger, Krile, and G’raha when he later joins.

Rheika and Tataru have become the best of friends since she joined. She’s always encouraged Tataru to better herself however she wants, and really loves the newfound confidence she’s gained

Dahkar is closest to Thancred among the senior scions. Among the other members, he’s flirted with Ephemie a fair amount, and is considering whether or not he wants to deepen that to something more serious.

Fearless is probably closest to Alisaie. She admires her confidence a great deal.

14. Of the Scions, who are they most worried for?

Franks is most worried for Y’shtola and her “aethersight” draining her life force. He’s actively trying to modify the SCH magicks that cured the tonberry plague to restore her eyesight (and Thancred’s ability to manipulate aether)

Rheika is probably most worried about Urianger, as he’s shown a very disturbing pattern for pursuing a hidden agenda to further the scion’s goals, He claims to be done with that, but she’s worried he might slip into old habits in the future.

Dahkar and Fearless aren’t particularly worried about any of the Scions, beyond the default “these are my adopted family and I don’t want anything to happen to them” level of fear.

15. Is your WoL promiscuous? Celibate? Or just waiting for the right person?

Franks has so far been unable to move past the death of his wife to consider any new relationships. He’s also far older (if only mentally) than anyone who’d be interested, which also blocks him from considering anything new.

Rheika is aromantic, but pansexual. Romance does nothing for her, she just likes having fun with anyone she considers attractive and will respect her rule. She’s got a number of paramours in various parts of the world.

Dahkar is bi, and willing to engage in casual liaisons but at his heart, he really wants a committed relationship. After Haurchefant died, he hasn’t been involved in anything serious since, only crushing on people emotionally unavailable, such as Yugiri (bound by her oath to HIen) or Kurenai (bound by the oath of the Ruby Princess). He’s recently come to realize that this was a form of self-sabotage and is trying to open up again.

Fearless crushes on every pretty girl she has come across, but is usually too shy or lacking in self-confidence to follow up on them. She greatly regrets never telling Minfilia how she felt about her. Her time as a Warrior of LIght and the friendship she’s built with her fellows has helped tremendously. She’s currently involved in a poly triad with two other women.

16. What does your WoL do to relax? What sorts of distractions do they seek? Do they foster any bad habits as a result?

They enjoy spending time together or with the other Scions. If they’re at a point when they need to be alone, they’ll do the following.

Franks likes to tinker, build things, or solve arcanima problems. He can sometimes get wrapped up in any of those and lose track of time. He’s also prone to hiding away to avoid socializing.

Rheika will generally find someone to take to bed if she’s really stressed, otherwise she’s fine just hanging with people

Depending on his mood, Dahkar will either find a monster to fight (never something he’s not confident he can beat) or leap to whatever the highest place he can find is and just enjoy the view.

Fearless enjoys reading novels, but as of late prefers spending time with her girlfriends.

17. Who is their favorite Alliance leader? Who do they get along with the best out of them?

Counting only the 5 members of the Eorzean Alliance, in order from most to least.... 1. Lyse - because she’s one of them, come on 2. (tie) Merlwyb/Aymeric - because they are good people who have the strength to move their nation forward to a better place 3. Nanamo - she’s trying to make Ul’dah better, at least, even if she isn’t able to affect change. Plus she’s not doing enough to address corruption in the Brass Blades 4. Kan-E-Senna - she seems entirely content to leave her people at the mercy of elementals and isn’t doing NEAR enough to address racial inequality in Gridania

18. Does your WoL fully embrace their role as the WoL or do they try to remain humble?

For the most part, they’re humble, but all of them are not afraid to use their titles/fame to get what they need or to make someone’s life better if they can do so.

19. What do they think of the Heaven's Ward?

The only ones they really got to know were the two that tried to condemn Alphinaud and Tataru for “heresy” and the one who attacked them when they were meeting with Hilda. Those were...not positive experiences. That, coupled with the fact that all of them willingly followed the Archbishop into summoning Primals into themselves pretty much sealed their opinion on the rest.

20. Of all the places they've been to, which is their favorite? Do they like to go back there?

Franks enjoys spending time in Ishgard, both because the manufactory is there and he enjoys collaborating with the other machinists and because he really enjoys working on the Restoration of the Firmament.

Rheika enjoys being in Mor Dhona and the Crystarium the most. It’s full of people all working together for the same end, and she’s happy being a part of it and doing her part to help.

Dahkar also loves Mor Dhona, but he’s found going back to the Far East oddly soothing. He feels a connection to the Azim Steppe, despite not really knowing what it means to live there, he wants to learn.

Fearless has made Kugane her home, thanks in part to her one of her girlfriends living there and the other currently on an extended tour there as well.

21. Are there any raid storylines (Ivalice, Coil of Bahamut, Werlyt, etc.) you consider to be canon for your WoL? Which ones don't you consider canon?

I consider all of them to be canon, save potentially the NieR crossover alliance raids. Honestly, the entire story of that place just felt so odd and out of place that I didn’t really enjoy it, and I’m tempted just to say it didn’t happen. Everything else, though? Absolutely canonical.

22. Do you have a unique tale for their job class or is it pretty much like what it is in the game?

Most of them are pretty much as they were in the game, though I have some personal headcanons on how Arcanima and the Paladin job work, the latter of which I’ve explored in one of my fics. The former will be somewhat explained in the current longform fic I’m working on.

23. Are there any side quest storylines that you're particularly fond of or think of as being canon to your WoL's experiences?

Aside from the raids, alliance raids, and trial series, which 21 covered, I’d say all of the Beast tribe quests, the Scholasticate quests (which I suppose means Hildibrand has to be canon too), and most of the sidequesting in Sui-no-Sato are all canon experiences.

24. Does your WoL have any phobias?

None of them have any real strange or irrational fears of note, not that I’ve been able to think of that make sense to the characters, anyway.

25. Do they have any habits or rituals that they do to soothe themselves? I.e. Playing with their hair, chewing their lip, fidgeting, etc.

Franks will absentmindedly fidget with a tool or some spare parts. He’s actually built a small gadget that has some switches and buttons that do nothing for this purpose.

Rheika is restless and prefers to move while thinking. She tends to bounce a leg if she has to sit still too long.

Dahkar is pretty capable of concentrating without needing any kind of habit to aid in it.

Fearless tends to bottle it up until she can release it in private, either by meditating or dancing, depending on her level of anxiety and privacy expectations

26. Do they suffer any traumas from any of their adventures? How do you foresee this affecting them going forward?

Fearless was actually persuaded to pick of the Astrologian job thanks to the trauma of the banquet. She wanted to be able to predict anything that awful from happening to her and her friends again.

LIkewise Dahkar was so traumatized by that (and the Braves’ betrayal), it was the final catalyst needed for him to be open to his Darkside and become a Dark Knight. He’s also the one most affected by Haurchefant’s death, and as I explained earlier, it’s subconsciously kept him from going after other romantic relationships

Rheika had nightmares about Tesleen for months, and they were made worse when she herself nearly became a sin eater. She practiced quick drawing her bow and hitting accurate long distance shots for a long time after that, wanting to be prepared to save someone from that kind of distance if she had to.

Franks has dealt with enough trauma in his previous life that a lot of what he’s seen on Hydaelyn doesn’t affect him as much as it otherwise might.

27. How did the events of Shadowbringers impact them?

Rheika was the only one present for the events of 5.0, and my headcanon is that she wasn’t able to get home until after Hades was defeated. She felt alone and adrift without her fellow Warriors, and the trauma she endured did not help matters. Seeing them summoned to aid her was a balm on her soul, and when Franks figured out how to get the others to the First a little before the events of the Eden raid, she was overjoyed.

28. Were they suspicious or open to Emet-Selch's presence when he first appeared?

Rheika never believed he had good intentions. She always expected him to betray them at some point, but there didn’t seem to be much she COULD do before that happened. Even after he rescued Y’shtola, that was never enough for her trust.

29. Did your WoL suspect anything was amiss with Urianger or the Crystal Exarch? Did they feel betrayed? Upset? When the truth finally emerged?

Rheika immediately recognized G’raha Tia (”I mean he wasn’t even TRYING to change his voice!”), but she assumed there was a reason he was hiding from her, and she trusted Urianger’s vision. When the truth came out, she was angry about being lied to. She understood their reasoning, but threated to beat the crap out of both of them if they ever tried something like that again.

30. What was their highest point in Shadowbringers? Their lowest? What caused it?

High point - ending Hades. Low Point - failing to save Tesleen

31. What were their first impressions of Hien?

Aside from Rheika and Dahkar finding him very hot, they were all very impressed by his willingness to sacrifice his own life if his people chose not to fight any longer

32. Did they trust Asahi right away? Why or why not?

Not right away, no. None of them are quick to trust Garlean officials, and Asahi felt way too slimy. None of them were all together surprised with how things turned out, save for when Maxima agreed to abide by the exchange after everything went south.

33. How did they feel about what happened with Yotsuyu? Did they feel like she was justified in her actions?

All of them felt bad for Yotsuyu’s horrible upbringing (and have made it VERY clear to Hien that he needs to make sure the new Doma does NOT allow for this to happen again), but accept that she made the choices she did and that ultimately, she needed to be stopped.

34. Would you say your WoL is fundamentally a good person? Or are they a bad person that's been persuaded to do the right things?

All of them are absolutely good people fundamentally. They know they’re the only ones that can fight the ridiculous battles they get into, and they’re okay with doing it, because ultimately, they want to save lives.

35. How do they feel about the fact that they've killed a lot of people and/or things?

They all understand that for every life they have to take, it means more are safe, sound, and happy down the road. All of their choices are made with that goal in mind.

#Final Fantasy XIV #oldmanfranks #Rheika Aliapoh #Fearless Willow #Dahkar Darkspear

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macgyvermedical · 4 years

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Email From My Parents’ Former Chiropractor, a Medical Review

I had to read that and now so do you. But guess what? I also get to tear it apart line by line with extreme prejudice. And not the bad kind. At. All.

This went out to probably close to a thousand people.

People will die because of this email.

“We have been keeping up with the true data from the CDC and WHO that is giving very accurate information on this virus.“

I’m relatively neutral on this. The CDC and WHO are probably some of the most official sources. They’re a little behind (1-2 days for WHO, and both only update every 24 hours), but overall no one would fault him for citing them as sources. Here’s the source I’ve been using.

My biggest problem with that beginning is that the sentence structure is... alarmingly presidential.

“First, this is not a new virus. It's been known to cause respiratory problems since the 1960's.”

The group of viruses called “coronavirus” have been identified since 1965. But there are hundreds of unique viruses in this group, and 7 of them infect humans at very different severities. The most recent one, identified in December 2019 and now named SARS-CoV-2, is definitely a coronavirus, but it’s also definitely not one we’ve seen before.

“So far, the new coronavirus has led to more than 100,000 illnesses and more than 3,000 deaths worldwide.”

I mean, he’s technically right that it’s “more than” 100,000 cases. But this email went out today, when confirmed cases were a lot closer to 784,400 and deaths were 37,780 (see source above). Even the WHO numbers today are 693,224 and 33,106 respectively. So my best guess is he was writing this on March 7th (per WHO sitreps) and didn’t bother to update it before sending it out March 30th.

“In the U.S. alone, the flu has caused an estimated 34 million illnesses, 350,000 hospitalizations and 20,000 deaths this season... Per the CDC data, the flu virus as far more contagious and deadlier.”

This info is also substantially out of date. Currently, these numbers are 38 mil, 400,000, and 24,000 respectively.

I have to say, I did fall for the corona vs flu false equivalency once upon a time, but I’ve learned and grown a lot since then. We’re prepared for the number of hospital beds we need for (seasonal-not-pandemic) flu. We know how fast spreads and we have a vaccine that offers at least partial protection from it. We have widespread testing for it. We’re relatively comfortable with it’s severity and mortality rate.

But you heard it here last: with the data we have right now, none of those things apply to covid-19. We don’t have the beds, ventilators, or PPE to take all of it’s excessive illness on, which leads to higher mortality rates. It's more contagious than flu (infecting 2-2.5 people per infected person, vs seasonal flu’s 1.3). We don’t have a vaccine or significant natural immunity. We don’t have adequate testing, so we don’t know enough to know if anything we do know is close to correct. All of that makes it much, much worse than seasonal flu despite numbers.

“What to do? First, all patients are responsible for their own immune system.”

I mean, sure, okay, you have the responsibility to make the best choices you can for you in the situation that you’re in. That’s fair. And generally people do. But saying you’re responsible for your own immune system seems to imply that if you get covid-19, it’s your own dang fault because you weren’t responsible enough?

If that stresses you out, rest easy in that you don’t control nearly as much of your health status (look up the Whitehall Studies) and immune status (look up the Pittsburgh Cold Studies and a paper that came out of them titled “Types of Stressors That Increase Susceptibility to the Common Cold in Healthy Adults” by Cohen et al, 1998), as people like to think you do.

“When a bacteria or virus enter the body, your bodies natural immune system will attack this foreign body by creating an antibody that will destroy these foreign viruses or bacteria's (sic)...”

Okay, sure, that’s not a bad explanation.

“...So, when someone isolates themselves, the virus will still be "out there" and vaccinations will not stop the spread of any virus. A vaccination will force your body to make antibodies, which is the body's natural response to a virus. In other words, the virus will populate the world.“

I’ll be honest, I don’t entirely understand what he means with this passage, but I’ll give it my best shot.

If you never come into contact with a virus, it’s certainly true that you won’t ever get antibodies from it naturally. You also won’t get sick, and won’t have the opportunity to spread it to other people. That’s, like... the entire point of isolation.

But if a vaccine exists, that gives you the opportunity to have the best of both worlds- you get to make antibodies, and you never have to get sick! Score!

And if a lot of people have the antibodies, the illness can’t spread through the population (”herd” or “community” immunity), meaning that very few people get sick. You don’t have to be exposed to the virus after being vaccinated in order to become immune. The vaccine is literally the part of the virus the body needs to be exposed to to learn how to create antibodies.

He then goes on to list the ways in which you can build a strong immune system to fight covid-19. These suggestions include:

“Eat Healthy Natural Foods: These foods have the vitamins and nutriatiants (sic) your body needs to build its immune system.”

Sure, healthy food is good for you. No one’s arguing with you there.

“Get Adjusted: Every tissue in the body depends 100% nerve supply from the brain. These nerves carry all the cells information to repair and regenerate injured tissue. When the nervous systems is interfered with, this communication system between the brain and the tissue cells is weakened, therefore causing decreased immune response.”

This isn’t wrong so much as poorly worded. The brain (and vagus nerve) is involved in healing injured or infected tissues, particularly as part of modulating inflammatory response and eliciting reactions like vomiting, mucous production, and coughing to get rid of irritating substances. The inflammatory response kicks off the healing process, and we know that if the vagus nerve has been cut or in some other way interfered with, there is not as much inflammation across the board (which is why vagus nerve simulators have been shown to work against arthritis).

I’m not sure if there’s literature on chiropractic care improving this, but I certainly don’t think it’s impossible.

May I, however, suggest an editor at this point?

“Sleep 7-9 hours per night: Cellular regeneration happens mostly a night. Drink enough water: Dehydrate causes stress in the body, that will weakened the immune system.“

Great!

“Take natural supplements: These will help your immune systems, if you are not getting enough nutrients and vitamins through your healthy diet.”

Supplements generally aren’t necessary for most people (unless they have a diagnosed deficiency), but if you just like taking a multivitamin no one’s stopping you. Just don’t go overboard.

“P.S. Our team at [redacted] Chiropractic is super healthy. We follow the above guidelines!! We are asking anyone who may be ill, to stay home, or even more important get adjusted in our office [emphasis added]. Just let us know you are not feeling well and we will get you in and out with minimal contact with others. We take pride in cleanliness with all our patients. Hope to see you soon.”

I just... felt the need to leave that last paragraph in it’s entirety. If you’re all the way at the end of this post, you really deserve to read it again and let it sink in that he’s ASKING SOMEONE TO GO OUT IN PUBLIC WITH COVID-19 IN THE MIDDLE OF A PANDEMIC, IN AN AREA WHERE A “SHELTER IN PLACE” ORDER HAS BEEN ISSUED.

As medical facilities, chiropractic offices are allowed to stay open. I don’t mind this generally. A lot of people rely on chiropractic care for pain control and I would never want to take that away from them if there was another way.

But I work at a doctor’s office (sometimes). We are all but refusing to see patients in the office unless absolutely necessary to comply with social distancing rules and conserve PPE. If I were a chiropractor right now, I would be limiting my services to emergencies or people who really can’t get along without it, and encouraging people to NOT COME IN IF THEY KNOW OR SUSPECT THEY ARE SICK HOLY CRAP MAN STAP.

That’s like, the bare, bare minimum.

Thank you for reading.

#medical review #chiropractic care #vaccines #covid-19

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septembercfawkes · 5 years

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When and How to Weaken a Passage

You might think this a tongue-in-cheek post, a joke, but you may be surprised to know it's the real thing. Yes, although uncommon, there are times where you may need to actually weaken a scene.

Sounds crazy, right?

Not for the first time, it recently happened to me.

I like to write scene by scene. But one of the biggest, if not the biggest, cons to that is having to fix cohesion in the novel as a whole afterward. And as I've been trying to do that in my own WIP, I've had to weaken multiple passages.

But it's not just me.

I've worked with authors that I've had to ask to do the same thing.

It's like when you order a fancy dessert at a nice restaurant. You know, the kind where you take three bites and can't finish it because it's so sweet, so much, so rich? The same thing can happen in creative works. You may be thinking that this triple chocolate fudge cake topped with ganache is some of your best work--and that may be absolutely true--but the client can't eat more than a quarter of it.

Fortunately, and unfortunately, writing is a collaboration between the creator and the reader. And even if your triple chocolate fudge cake is amazing it may be that the reader really needs some vanilla with it, not more chocolate.

For the creator, it's the worst sometimes. Especially when you already made the triple chocolate fudge cake topped with ganache--and it's perfect.

When to Weaken a Passage

At the root, you really need to weaken a passage simply when it comes off as too strong. The strength can be manifested in different ways:

1. You're reiterating, amplifying, or building on something that has already been conveyed to the audience well.

Some might be reading that and thinking, well, yeah, that's obvious--you need to cut it because it's repetitive. But it may not actually be that obvious, especially if it's something you are building on. It may not be repetitive, directly.

This was my most recent problem. I had a powerful scene (I still love that triple chocolate) that was amplifying an important character trait of my protagonist. But because of previous subtext, even if this particular facet hadn't made it onto the page, the audience had already gleaned enough of it to satisfy the point. Building and amplifying on that trait, even when rendered well, was annoying. It was too much. It came off too strong. And it actually made the character kind of obnoxious. It put too much power and emphasis on his dominating traits.

The scene on its own worked very well.

But when put into the context of the whole novel, it was too much. Too rich.

2. You have too many powerful emotions close together

We are often trying to create a powerful, emotional experience for the reader. But it's entirely possible to make it too powerful.

Now, I'm not talking about melodrama, which is a different thing.

I'm talking about a lot of genuine, raw, emotional moments.

Sure, at the climax, you usually really want to stack all this on, but even there you can overdo it.

Do you remember learning about pacing as a writer?

When it comes to pacing, it's entirely possible to not only go too slow, but to go too fast. If you never let the reader catch a breath, they won't like the book. They'll feel exhausted. Even get a little annoyed. Finally, having so much of the same pacing actually makes the reader have a less powerful reading experience, since it's so much the same. It loses its effect.

The same thing can happen with powerful emotions. If every single emotion is maxed out and super powerful and rendered powerfully on the page near each other, it's too much!

It's not "over-dramatic" necessarily, but it's just "a-lot-a-dramatic."

3. The writing itself is too beautiful, too powerful, too dramatic, or too rich for too long.

While most of us are usually trying to render things on the page more beautifully or powerfully, other writers' words may have too much of that.

It's the triple chocolate analogy again.

It may be the best triple chocolate ever created.

But most mortals can't keep eating it. It'll make them sick.

This kind of writing is not to be confused with purple prose, which is a specific style of writing that happens when a writer is trying to write beautifully, powerfully, or dramatically, but hasn't learned the techniques yet of how to actually do that.

No, this situation happens to writers who actually know how to render things that way on the page, but they just render it too strong for too long, to the point that it's difficult for the reader to keep taking it in, cognitively.

When that happens, it's time to tone it down.

4. You have too many excellent ideas too close together.

As writers, we may feel like we get a million ideas, sometimes even for a single scene (other times we pray to the heavens that the muse will just please give us at least one to get us started).

Here's the thing.

All the ideas we choose to put on the page may actually be really great, really amazing, really excellent ideas.

But it's possible that keeping all of them is just too much awesome for the reader to ingest at once. We've added more and more chocolate. It's amazing.

But they can't eat it.

In some cases, having too many good ideas too close together can actually muddy the story and make it confusing. It's hard for the audience to know which component is meant to have their focus. And there is so much, the audience can't appreciate each individual piece.

Now, you can get away with a lot of excellent ideas.

But like the other three, it is possible to go overboard in some situations.

Unless you read a lot of unpublished fiction, chances are you probably haven't actually encountered what it's like to try to read passages that are literally simply too strong to ingest. Even with 7+ years of editing, I still have only seen it, at most, a dozen times. But it's a real thing, and I want my followers to know it can happen.

Maybe you have struggled to become a great writer for years. Well, the strengths you have worked so hard to nail can actually become weaknesses if you aren't willing to back away from the ganache. Congratulations, you have succeeded in learning how to render power on the page.

But the story still needs to be digestible.

It sucks, right? But there may be times where, for the sake of the reader, you may need to actually weaken your passages so they can enjoy them.

How to Weaken a Passage

If you've made it to the point where your passages are too strong, there may be a good chance that you'll have a mini panic attack with what I'm about to say. After all, most of these are no-no's--because they can weaken writing. You've probably sworn a lot of them off so you could write powerfully (which is maybe part of the problem).

1. Tell, Don't Show

One of the first, most basic rules we learn as writers is to "show, don't tell." This is because telling is weak, nonspecific, and can keep the reader from being fully immersed in the story.

All horrible qualities that might be perfect for weakening a passage.

Just so there is no confusing, telling absolutely has a place in storytelling and should be present in 99.9% of novels. But showing should be used more.

If your passage is too strong, you might want to swap out some of the showing for telling, which will make it easier on the reader.

I recently did this. Instead of showing that my character was mad, I simply stated it on the page: "He felt mad."--definitely weaker and (unfortunately) just what the scene needed. In some cases, you may need to just label the emotion rather than fully render it.

2. Deviate the Reader's Experience

This relates to my second method, which is deviating the reader's experience from the character's. When we tell, the reader is naturally less immersed in the real events in the story, which means there is a slight (however small in some cases) deviation.

Our characters are experiencing powerful things. Sometimes that power accumulates and becomes too much if we don't deviate enough in the manuscript. You can weaken a passage with this method by using the right subtext, tone, or by telling.

For more on this technique and when and how to use it, see "Deviating the Reader's Experience from the Character's."

3. Use To-Be Verbs

To-be verbs (am, is, are, was, were, been, being) are naturally weak because they don't actually convey anything except "existence." This is one of several reasons why new writers are told not to use them.

But when a passage is too strong, it's definitely an option to consider.

If the passage is written too beautifully and dramatically, to-be verbs will help tone that down.

If the passage has too many excellent ideas to take in, to-be verbs can naturally make it easier for the audience to take in, cognitively (precisely because they don't actually tell us anything but "existence.")

They can also tone down just about any strong passage, but those are two instances where they may be particularly helpful.

4. Cut Word Count

This might seem like stating the obvious. The smaller your triple chocolate dessert is, the more likely the consumer can actually eat the whole thing. Shorten the powerful passage to make it easier on the reader. Cut words or cut concepts in the passage itself. Save the power and length for what matters most, what is most significant. This article relates.

(Note: However, weirdly, in other situations, you may actually need to add more length--add more vanilla writing to spread out the bites of pure chocolate.)

5. Use Vanilla Words

Some words are naturally simplistic. The to-be verbs are an example. The word "guess" is simpler than "hypothesize." Look for opportunities to use simpler words to add the vanilla.

Look for words that have these qualities:

Short Syllables - Use words that have few syllables. Choose the word "dance" over "promenade," for example.

Familiar > Unusual - Choose words and concepts that are more familiar or common to the audience. For example, choose "guess" instead of "hypothesize."

Simple > Complex - Similarly, choose words and concepts that are simpler. The more technical you get, the more the audience needs to slow down and digest.

By following these techniques, you should be able to weaken your Hulk-smash-power passage, and the hardest part should be a broken writer heart at having to.

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