after a long pause i finally finished my newest oc batch ^_^ this time for owl feather: the scholar's guild. the members are more or less different types of academics, or just nerds, with their own different niches. as usual, more specific info+closeups under the cut <3

Name: Mercury

Name Origin: The planet named after the messenger god

Pronouns: She/her

Age: 28

Guild rank: Guidmaster

Weapon: Caduceus

Ethos (Power): Aileron (Enhanced speed and levitation)

Flaw power is based on: Her evasiveness- Though her power has evolved (the levitation) once she became guildmaster as she became a pillar for her guild, and successor to the former guildmaster.

Notes: I can be your angle... or yuor devil

Name: Keid

Name Origin: A star whose name means eggshels

Pronouns: He/him

Age: 19

Guild rank: 3 star

Weapon: Chicken sickles

Ethos (Power): Computative prognostication (He can calculate the outcome of events in his own head, but he can’t see outcomes beyond the one he calculated)

Flaw power is based on: His overly cautious and ruminative habits, though he tries to play it off like he's way more chill and not constantly existentially overthinking

Notes: But which came first...?

Name: Alasia

Name Origin: A star whose name references Idalion Tablet, one of the oldest known contracts

Pronouns: She/her

Age: 15

Guild rank: 2 star

Weapon: Shovel

Ethos (Power): Erudition (Psychometry- The ability to read the past of any object by touch)

Flaw power is based on: Her extreme curiosity, while her inquisitiveness on it's own can be admirable she can often get obsessive about it.

Notes: She's an archeologist <3

Name: Dimidium

Name Origin: Exoplanet whose name means "half"

Pronouns: He/She

Age: 22

Guild rank: 4 star

Weapon: Double-ended flail

Ethos (Power): Vice-versa (Healing and reverse healing)

Flaw power is based on: His simultaneous obsequiousness and brashness- Two extremes that she fluctuates between in a way that's both unpredictable and unhealthy.

Notes: Generally stoic either way so it's hard to tell...

Name: Navi

Name Origin: Informal name for γ Cassiopeiae- A navigation point for Apollo 1

Pronouns: He/they

Age: 19

Guild rank: 3 star

Weapon: Arm

Ethos (Power): Kefi (Energy direction- He can channel his energy into powerful attacks into his weapon of choice, which they designed to be their own arm)

Flaw power is based on: Their over-zealous nature. Though passion is a good thing, their ferventness can absolutely make him lose track of himself.

Notes: A weaponsmith who’s figuring out more technological approaches

Name: Talitha

Name Origin: A star system, whose name means "Spring"

Pronouns: She/her

Age: 13

Guild rank: 1 star

Weapon: Plastic wand

Ethos (Power): Metamorphosis (Magical girl transformation. She can shoot beams out of her wand now.)

Flaw power is based on: Her extreme tendency for escapism, especially in idolizing fantasy.

Notes: She's a magical girl 💖💖💖

Name: Misam

Name Origin: A star whose name means "wrist"

Pronouns: They/them

Age: 28

Guild rank: 5 star

Weapon: Wrist blade

Ethos (Power): Rigor (Enhanced precision)

Flaw power is based on: Their surprisingly to-the-point, often cold-blooded nature.

Notes: Nerds can be cool too, guys.

Name: Perwana

Name Origin: An exoplanet whose name means moth

Pronouns: She/her

Age: 27

Guild rank: 5 star

Weapon: Lantern

Ethos (Power): Callous luminance (Physically palpable hard light, created from her lantern)

Flaw power is based on: Her tenancy to place the burden of guidance onto herself- Literally a guiding light for others. Mostly in regards to erudition, the symbolic connection between illumination and knowledge. She wants to illuminate everyone. But this can be at the cost of herself.

Notes: These are her summer clothes.

Through the Years, Ch. 3

A George Weasley Fanfiction

A George Weasley x Slytherin reader story. Each chapter shares events in one year of George and reader’s life together.

Word Count: 3k

Year 1, Year 2

Year 3: Redheads 

The snow fell heavily as you looked out the shop window, and it occurred to you that they would be rounding up all the students soon. They would want you to get back to the castle before the weather got too out of hand. Looking around Zonko’s one more time, you left the shop with the items you had bought and started to look for the twins.  Honestly, you were surprised that they hadn’t immediately beelined it to the joke shop, but maybe they were off thinking about their own little inventions. Fred had started to dabble in making potions he shouldn’t be messing with, and George was happy to learn right along with him, no matter how disastrous things could turn out. A couple weeks ago at breakfast you were sitting at the Slytherin table, having an idle conversation with Adrian Pucey about the latest quidditch match, when Lee Jordan walked in, the whole of Gryffindor turning their heads to look at him.

Adrian leaned across the table to whisper to you. “I heard the entire Gryffindor tower woke up in the middle of the night last night because there was an explosion in the third year boys’ dorm.” Your head went into your hands, and you let out a small grumble. “It was the Weasleys, wasn’t it?” “From what I heard, yes,” Adrien said to you, your forehead now resting on the table as you stared down at your lap. “They’ve been getting in a lot of trouble recently.” You slowly raised your head to look over to where Lee was now sitting at the Gryffindor table, the twins nowhere in sight. “They’ve been on a prank kick lately. Excuse me; I may need to make sure they aren't dead.” You got up from your seat and made your way over to Lee, who you noticed had lost a few inches of his hair overnight. “Hey, Jordan!” He turned to look at you. “Have a rough night?” He let out a laugh and said “No, I just woke up with my hair on fire is all. You can thank your boyfriends for that.” Ignoring his comment, you pressed him further. “What’d they do this time?” “I’m not sure exactly, but it involved standing over my bed in a very creepy fashion. And a loud explosion. And then fire. And then going to the infirmary,” Lee explained. “They’re still there?” you asked him. He nodded. “And I’m assuming it’s not too bad since no one seems to be in a huge panic.” “Just a couple burns that’ll take a day to heal fully,” he said. “Thanks, Lee,” you said, starting out of the great hall towards the infirmary. You entered the infirmary, your eyes finding Fred and George. They seemed to be the only ones in the room, sitting upright in parallel beds as they enjoyed a meal that must have been brought to them. They looked relatively normal besides the fact that Fred was missing half of his right eyebrow, a faint red burn mark making its way from just beside his right eye up into his hairline. George looked perfectly fine. and You thought maybe he had made it out of this incident unscathed, and he was just giving Fred company in the hospital wing. He must have caught a glimpse of you out of the corner of his eye, because he suddenly stopped his conversation with Fred and waved his hand at you, telling you to come join them. That’s when you saw the bandage on his left hand, wrapped around his palm and halfway up his arm. “I saw Lee Jordan a few minutes ago. What antics did you two get up to last night?” you asked the both of them, sitting on the edge of George’s bed. You reached over to his plate and attempted to sneak some food off it, but he smacked your hand away before you could. “Hey!” George gave you a glare, pulling his plate farther from you. “We’re the injured ones here. Get your own breakfast.” “You wouldn’t be injured if you didn’t try ridiculous stunts at two in the morning,” you informed them, looking between George’s hand and Fred’s face. “Now seriously, what were you trying to do to poor Lee?” “We were only testing out a potion,” Fred started to explain. “We thought we had it correct.” “Well, unless it’s a potion that causes explosions, I would say you’re very far from perfecting it,” you said, laughing at them. “It was meant to change the color of his hair,” George told you, now offering some of the food on his plate. You gladly accepted it. Fred continued on explaining. “We wanna make something that has a permanent effect, unless magically reversed.” “We know Zonko’s has a product that’ll change your hair color, but it’s only for a matter of minutes,” George told you. “We’d like to go for a more dramatic effect than that.” While the twins were talking, you absentmindedly studied the bandages around George’s palm and wrist. They were fresh, having been changed recently. You wondered what his injury looked like underneath. You feared it was worse than Fred’s, seeing as his warranted no bandages. You knew that by now, Madam Pomfrey had healed them as best she could, and they would be perfectly fine by this time tomorrow, but you still worried. “Try boxed hair dye next time.” you stated absentmindedly, your hand moving closer to George's on it's own accord. “What?” they both asked at the same time, looking at you in confusion. You snapped out of your thoughts, moving your hand back to your side. “You’ll have to be sneakier about it, and it’ll take longer and be 100% harder than using magical means, but it works,” you said, continuing your speech without really giving them an explanation. “You could put it in someone’s shampoo. Now, that’d be funny. Imagine Malfoy coming out of the shower with bright pink hair.” You let out a loud laugh, mostly to yourself, as Fred and George still had no clue what you were going on about. “Would you like to explain ‘boxed hair dye’ a little further?” Fred asked you. You looked between them, confused. A circuit in your brain connected after a few seconds. “Right, right, right. Muggle stuff. It’s literally just a dye that you put in your hair to change the color. Comes in a little box with instructions. Some of it stains your hair, and some of it washes out after a couple showers, so you’ll definitely want one that’s known to stain.” “Could you get us some?” they both asked. “I could ask my parents to mail me some, maybe.” You pondered this thought for a moment. “I think I have a better idea though. I’ll get back to you on that thought in a few weeks. I should get going, classes start soon.” You got up to leave, but turned around quickly. Glancing between their injuries real quick, you settled your eyes on George’s hand. “Please no more injuries. You worry me.” You turned back and hurried out the door, hoping not to be late to your morning class. “She was looking at you when she said that, George,” Fred teased his brother with a wink. George half heartedly threw a pillow at his brother. “She was talking to both of us.” “But she was looking at you,” Fred said, picking up the pillow and throwing it back. —————— Now, stepping outside Zonko’s, the wind was harsh, so you wrapped your scarf tighter around your face. You wanted to make a quick stop at Honeydukes before heading back to the castle. From down the street, you spotted Fred and George leaving the sweets shop. They started to walk in your direction, and you were about to scoot past them when they grabbed onto both of your arms and pulled you to the side.   “What’re you two doing?!” you scolded them as they dragged you into an alley. “I wanna go to Honeydukes real quick.” “No need for that,” Fred said as he let go of your arm. George pulled a small brown bag out of his coat pocket. He held it out towards you. “We bought you your favorites.” You took the bag apprehensively and looked inside. Everything seemed to be fine with the sweets inside. You looked between the two of them. “Why?” The twins spoke at the same time, but completely different sentences this time. “Because we’re such good friends,” is what George said. “Think of it as a sort of bribe,” is what Fred said. You narrowed your eyes at George, staring at him as you asked, “What sort of bribe?” You turned your head towards Fred for an answer. “It’s been weeks since you said you had an idea for our hair color predicament, and we haven’t heard a thing about it,” Fred explained to you. You rolled your eyes at them. “Be patient, boys.” You pulled the bag from Zonko’s out of your pocket and took a small vile out of it. Opening the vile, you drank it and watched the twins as your hair slowly turned to a bright ruby red color. “Now we’re all red heads, huh.” They both let out a small laugh, and Fred said, “We told you we already know about Zonkos, but we want something more permanent.” “Yeah, yeah, yeah, I heard you the first time,” You said, handing the rest of the bag over to George. “There’s five more bottles in there. Use them to deconstruct the formula. You don’t always have to start from scratch, you know. You’re both smart enough to find a way to make that permanent.” As soon as the last word was out of your mouth, Fred scooped you up into a tight hug, lifting your feet off the ground. “You’re smarter than the both of us combined. I can’t believe that we didn’t think about that. Why work harder when you can use other peoples’ successes to further your own?” “If that’s what you want to take from that, then sure.” You laughed as Fred sat you back on the ground. You looked around Fred’s shoulder at George, who was examining one of the viles. “Think you can figure it out, Georgie?” He looked up at you smiling, partly because he liked it when you called him that, and partly because this idea was absolutely brilliant. “Definitely.” “Good. Now we should get going before we get caught in a blizzard,” you said, looking up at the sky. The snow fell heavily, easy to see against the dark backdrop of the buildings you were standing between. You reached and grabbed Fred’s hand, ready to pull him with you through the crowd. You stepped close to George to grab his hand too, but you stopped short when you remembered that hand was the one that had been burned. It had been weeks ago, and you knew it was completely healed by now. There wasn’t even a scar; it was like it had never even happened. Still, you were worried that you might hurt him if you grabbed it too hard. It was an irrational fear, but you couldn’t help it. You quickly grabbed his other hand, hoping he hadn’t noticed your hesitation. You pulled them both behind you, and you were just about to step out of the alley when you stopped suddenly, the twins almost running into you. You could see little footprints in the snow. Pawprints, leading to a small crate at the edge of the alleyway. Following the small prints, you could see the tip of an orange tail sticking out of the crate. You let go of the twins hands, and slowly walked over to the crate, careful not to startle the creature. The twins looked between each other, confused, but they quietly walked up behind you anyway. Making little clicking sounds with your tongue, you urged the creature to look at you. It’s tail disappeared fully into the crate, and you were disappointed for a moment before you saw two orange ears pop up, and then you could see the creature's whole face. It seemed to be just a common house cat. You bent down to be eye-level with the cat, pulling the twins down with you, hoping not to scare it away. You slowly raised your hand up, leveling it a few inches from it’s face. “Come here, sweetie,” you urged it. “What’re you doing out in the cold all by yourself.” It stretched it’s neck out to sniff your hand carefully. After a moment, you felt comfortable enough to try to scratch behind it’s ear. It let you, and you slowly let out the breath you were holding. Fred and George hadn’t moved at all behind you, and you were thankful for their stillness. The cat hopped out of the crate and made it’s way to rub against your leg. “Aren’t you the sweetest thing,” you said down to it. The cat moved from you and rubbed it’s head on the top of George’s shoe. You smiled softly at the two of them. “I think it likes you, George.” He just smiled back at you as he scratched the stop of the cat’s head. “I think we should take it back to the castle,” you said suddenly. “What?” Fred asked you. “This could be somebody in town’s pet.” “Look at it,” you said, gesturing vaguely to the animal. “It’s very skinny, it doesn’t have a collar. I say it’s a stray. What do you think, George?” “Hmmm?” George looked up at you from the cat. “Why does my opinion matter?” “You’re the tiebreaker,” you told him. He thought about it for a minute. “Mum doesn’t really like cats.” You frowned at him. “Well, it wouldn’t be your cat. It’d be our cat. And I’d be more than willing to bring it home with me on holidays.” George was still bent down, and the cat now had both of it’s front legs on top of one of his knees. “Then I say go for it. It is pretty cute.” You let out a laugh of pure happiness. You bent down fast, careful not to scare the cat away. Hugging George from the side, you squeezed him as tight as you could, almost losing your balance. George felt you both falling and put one hand on the ground fast enough to catch you. “I could kiss you right now, George Weasley. I’m so happy.” You looked from him to the cat in front of the two of you. You watched it as it scratched it’s ear with it’s back leg. You didn’t even notice George freeze completely solid underneath your arms as you said those words. You did kiss him. Quickly on his cheek. He barely even noticed it, but afterwards his entire face lit up almost as bright as your current hair color. As you let go of the hug, George did fully lose his balance, falling completely into the snow. You unwrapped your green and grey scarf from around your neck and slowly approached the cat with it. You were careful when you picked it up, examining it quickly before you brought it close to your chest. You wrapped it loosely in your scarf, hoping to keep it warm. You knew that as soon as you left this alley, the wind would be much worse “It’s a girl,” you told Fred and George as you turned back to them. Fred was currently in the process of helping his brother off the ground. “I think we should name her Minnie.” “Minnie?” George asked as he wiped some snow off his legs. “After McGonagall,” you explained to them. They both laughed at that and agreed. Minnie it was. You quickly handed her to Fred and brought a disposable camera out of your coat pocket. “I wanna remember this moment exactly.” The twins huddled together as you stood in front of them, and Fred held Minnie to the side of you. You took a quick picture, hoping it would look good when you got it developed over the holiday. You slipped the camera back in your pocket and grabbed Minnie back from Fred. “She looks good in Slytherin colors, don’t you think?” you asked, admiring her wrapped in your scarf. You looked at the scarves the twins were wearing. “Much better than that ugly red.” You laughed and dodged out of the way as Fred tried to hit you on the arm. You stepped out of the alley and suddenly felt the wind harshly on your face. Your hair whipped around; you could see that the red had already faded from it. You shivered and pulled Minnie as close to you as you could, pushing your face down into your jacket. Suddenly, there was a flash of red in front of your eyes, and you turned to see George wrapping his scarf around your neck as you walked. You wanted to object, but you felt warm and fuzzy, and you didn’t want that feeling to leave you. “You look pretty cute in that ugly red,” George whispered as he pulled away from you. Knowing your cheeks were now burning the same color as the scarf, you buried your face into it, hoping to conceal the blush. You chose to ignore him, instead looking down at Minnie, who was basically asleep in your arms. You took in a deep breath, taking in the scent of the Gryffindor scarf you now wore. This was honestly the happiest you had ever felt in your life. George fell behind you to walk in step with his brother. “I told you I could flirt back.” Fred grinned at his twin. “Well done, George. Well done.”

Shackles That Bend

(Title subject to change, previously called Chains Of Our Past)

Warnings: Electrocution, descriptions of pain, manhandling, beating, insults, swearing, blood-mention, bad mindsets

(I decided to post this one on its own due to the fact that I've hit a writer's block and have been stuck at the one chapter I promised I would then post all the chapters that had come before it. So here it is. The first chapter.)

Chapter 1. Shocking Pain And Three Shocking Words

This was the second time in this short time period that he had been quite literally jolted awake. The voltages coursed through his body like a wire and he felt blood literally and figuratively boil, with his already damaged nerves angrily aware of each individual volt that aggressively danced through them. His jailer truly knew no mercy, did he? A Rider is not to show weakness and he especially refused to show any signs of weakness to his torturer so he had to just inwardly grit his teeth and bare the qpain as he had to. His captor flipped back the switch, causing the electricity to cease. His pain didn't cease however. In fact, his body "hurt like hell", as his brute of a jailor would put it.

  He felt his chin be grabbed and dragged up roughly by a cold, armoured hand, "Look at me."

His nerves once again protested at the harsh way his neck was brought up to be eye level with the brute.

  "Disgusting."

  His jailor's words were spat out as though the appearance of the prisoner alone was so sickening, it could bring bile to rise up one's throat. Actually, The Stranger didn't doubt that, in all honesty. The Stranger didn't have a good grasp on passing time here but it didn't take much thinking for him to know that all this torture in such a short time span wouldn't do his body any good, but he supposed that was the point. His body didn't have much time in order to heal so he would be weaker and thus less likely to escape.

  "You disgust me. The way you bleed, the way you attempt to guard yourself like it'll save you, the way you fall unconscious after I hardly even touch you. I can inflict far worse pain to you. But that would just knock you out like a light, and where's the fun in that? Can i ask a you a question? Was it fun ending all those lives down there?"

The Stranger isn't versed in the concept of 'fun', as 'fun' was only temporary. His mission had far more weight than 'fun'. Your silence speaks volumes." The Stranger's lip tugged a smidge south and his eyes squinted a small bit. It didn't go unnoticed. "You truly are pathetic to think that I don't notice. You're worthless, your kind must have expected you to fail. And your failure is why you are here. But I'm so glad you did," his jailer--no, as much as referring to the crooked warden by his title hurt, this was the easiest of hard truths to bring forth--The Chain moved his hand from The Stranger's chin to his cheek and rubbed it in a way that was almost affectionate before removing his hand from The Stranger's face and flipping back on the electricity, "because I can watch and inflict so much pain as I want on something that is also very much so capable of inflicting great amounts of pain upon others. It's a great feeling. For me, not for you. Your people were likely just trying to get rid of their garbage. But as the saying goes, one man's trash is another one's treasure."

The Chain laughed loudly at him in a sadistic manner. The Stranger tensed as his muscles clenched with the electricity rippling through them.

  Sometimes, however, it's the verbal blows that hurt worse than anything physical. The Stranger didn't have all too much time of his own: time to think and plan and such. If he wasn't being tortured then he was unconscious and recovering from his injuries. It was rare for him to be awake without any abuse occurring to him. But he was thinking now, and the hard truths seemed to hurt worse than the shocks administered to him.

  His thoughts just regurgitated The Chain's words back at him. The shocks felt numb to him. The thoughts sunk their metaphorical jaws in deep. There could be no further denying it, The Stranger had failed his Star. He was without meaning. He was discarded garbage. Is The Star waiting? Why? I've failed. The Starship doesn't know that I've been captured, but surely The Star has lost faith in me carrying out the mission, right?

  The only thing close to a purpose anymore for him was this repetitive cycle of abuse. It was always the same methods: electrocution, beatings, manhandling, insults threats, and occasionally, The Chain would sit there on a chair doing nothing at all but reading a book and tugging that heinous switch on and off. That last one was hurtful in its own way. It symbolized what hurt The Stranger the most: the knowledge he was worth nothing and that this torture was what he deserve. If he were to return to The Star, their termination would be too merciful. The Stranger was a Rider and a Rider was created to serve a purpose; to carry out the tasks. His task was crucial. His memory was a haze but he knew he had to return to his Starship and destroy thia planet. He did not forget. It was crucial. That makes it worse. The Stranger wishes that he forgot. Having his role reversed on him was an incredibly degrading feeling. He hates this.

  He hadn't noticed but the shocks were no longer coming. He only noticed after The Chain slapped him across the face.

"What is going on inside that head of yours? What thoughts are going on up there that have the ability to make you so oblivious? Aren't you suppose to be an observant little warrior? You already got the latter part wrong. Come on, speak and enlighten me. I know you aren't mute, I've heard the noises you make before you're about to pass out. Or when I catch you off guard." The Chain hummed in curiosity, "I've been told that you don't seem to feel pain when you had first been dropped at my doorstep. But I know you do. You feel pain just fine. It's sickening, because, well, it makes you that more human. I noticed this a long while back. You really got on my nerves that day. You damn near looked like the pain would've made you cry. But your kind doesn't do that. You do a lot of things you aren't supposed to, though, don't you? Maybe I'll prove the scientists wrong that can cry too. Y'know, if you had only done what you were meant to, then you wouldn't be in this pain." The Chain stepped away from The Stranger. The Stranger's eyes followed The Chain's movements as he walked away.

  The warden murmured something that wasn't within the audible range of a human from this distance. The Stranger picked up on it however due to his larger range of hearing, "if only I myself had conformed." The Stranger looked to his jailor with a stranger look on his face: an expression that he doesn't recall looking at him with before. Most of the looks he gave his tormentor were hate-filled and angry. This one was just simply curious.

  The Chain looked towards him. The Stranger couldn't tell what was going through his head though, the masks obscured his true face. Or at least, The Stranger was relatively sure that there was one beneath all three of the masks. "So, you heard me. Such a peculiar specimen. This isn't a face I've ever seen you make. It tempts me to flip back on the power," The Chain chortled a bit upon seeing The Strangers face in response to that remark, "but I won't." Why?

  The Chain never showed him any quarter. Why now? "I can tell you are confused, Stranger. Not all prisoners here are in shackles. I never wanted a job like this. But this is a result of the choices I've made. You could make a choice. Fight me and my fellow guardians and escape. Destroy our planet. I'd like to see you try." The Chain laughed sardonically then grabbed the Rider by the arm. "Haha, no. You seem to have no real mind of your own though. You're spineless. If you had a spine, you would have made your first attempt months ago. You sick fuck: maybe you're enjoying this treatment."

  The rage that coursed through The Stranger drowned out all of his pain. He never wanted to be belittled again. He hates to admit it, but The Chain was right, he's just rotting here. He wanted to put an end to this. He was going to return to his people and he was going to complete his mission. Any who opposed The Stranger would be cut down.

   The Stranger growled in frustration and writhed in his restraints. The Chain slammed his fist into the middle of the rider's chest in response. That sent pain blooming across The Stranger's body as it seized harshly. His face held a look of pained surprise. The Stranger, try as he did and may, could see no way to get out of these binds. Unless...

  At that very moment, an insane idea popped into the Rider's mind. But he's already decided that he would escape at all costs. This will just be one of those costs. The Stranger was going to have to use words if he was going to communicate this idea then and he just hoped he had enough of an understanding of the Earthen tongue to be able to properly verbalize what he wants to say.

He looked up and locked eyes with his jailer; his own cold black and blue ones to the cold glass eye-slits of his jailor's mask.

  "Escape with me."

Dear Peter Parker

tagging @hailing-stars​ because you gave me the motivation to finish this story (it’s been killing me) and actually post it. Hope it doesn’t disappoint too much, love.

Peter listens to the breeze rustle past the material of his suit as he flies through the air.

He’d spent the better part of the first few weeks of being back sitting in his new apartment, occupying himself by staring at the bars at the top of his bunk bed. Counting them up and down until he couldn’t do it anymore, until they became a blurred singular mass of metal suspended above his head.

YouTube was another welcome distraction, but he could only see so many “I died, and came back to life?! *storytime*” thumbnails on his recommended feed before his throat felt like closing up again. Instagram wasn’t much better, because half of the world might’ve gone offline, but social media hadn’t quite gotten the memo.

If he thought FOMO was bad before, it turns out that scrolling through five years’ worth of memories that he’d missed out on was like taking that empty feeling and dialing it up to eleven. Some of his classmates were still sporting braces when he’d last seen them, and now they were graduating college and getting married and even having kids of their own—memories and milestones all preserved for him to gawk at like he was observing relics in a museum.

A month had passed since the Blip. The Snap. Whatever you want to call it.

It was just long enough for the Honeymoon phase to be over. The initial excitement of tearful returns had quickly become a scramble toward a new normal, into a desperate attempt to fit half of the population into a world that, even in their absence, had kept turning.

That was the worst part, Peter decided.

He’d imagined his death before—what his funeral would be like. Sometimes, when it was late and he was alone he’d sit up and wonder what his world would like without him in it.

It was a morbid thought, sure, but it had only been that. Thoughts. What-ifs.

He’d always pictured that, eventually, even the people that loved him most in this life would have to move on. He’d want them to move on.

He’d done it plenty of times himself—after his parents, after Ben. It didn’t mean he’d forgotten them, but there came a point in the grieving process where he’d realized that the sun would keep rising every morning, that he was going to keep living even if his loved ones weren’t.

It was hard, and sometimes almost impossible, but he’d done it.

So it made sense that when the circumstances were flipped and he was that was gone, the people in his life would learn to keep living without him.

But just because it made sense doesn’t mean that it didn’t hurt to have to witness it first-hand.

Because this was a special form of hell most people don’t anticipate when they die: coming back. 

Death was awful and sad and downright heartbreaking, but there was a certain finality to it. A sense of closure.

He hadn’t died. He’d disappeared, and somehow that was so much worse. 

No one deserves to disappear.

No one deserves to face the reality of the world passing them by, to have to reopen wounds that have already healed, to have to shove yourself back into a script that’s already written you out.

Putting on the suit had been an impulsive decision fueled by a restlessness that he finally decided he couldn’t ignore.

The red and blue spandex felt more like home than his new apartment ever would, and Karen’s voice was a pleasant and familiar in his ear. 

If he moved fast enough, swinging aimlessly through the city, it was almost as if nothing had changed—as if he had gone back in time, to five years ago, when the biggest stressors in his life were petty thieves on the street.

He sees the Tower in the distance—Tony had bought it back, at some point, had wanted to keep some connection to the city, just in case—stretching toward the stars, and before he knows what he’s doing his body is swinging toward it, driven by sheer muscle memory.

Peter sticks to the glass easily, and he climbs, one foot after the other.

It’s just him and spandex and sky, going on and on forever.

He feels like he should stop—should head back to the apartment that isn’t a home and count the bars on his bunk bed one more time—because climbing a literal skyscraper in this scattered state of mind screams bad idea.

“Peter, a fall from this height could--,” Karen starts, but he mutes her voice before she can say any more.

It’s a dumb idea, he knows that, but something in his bones begs him to keep going. 

Maybe the world might would different from way up there. Maybe it’d finally look like home again. 

He shoots a web to the top of the tower and spares a glance down.

The city is in repair, but it’s alive. Cars honk in the streets, people push past each other on the sidewalks. It’s New York—it’s always moving, it doesn’t matter if the world ends—New York doesn’t stop and wait for anybody.

From way up here, it’s like waving through a window, watching from outside the glass, helpless, as the world passes him by.

His breath hitches.

No one deserves to disappear.

He feels the web give way, feels the lurch of his stomach before the fear gives way to... numbness. Like he can’t feel anything at all.

And then he’s falling.

///

“Peter—hey!” Ned calls, running against the grain of students milling through the hallway.

“Please don’t be mad, but I got so excited and I couldn’t help myself and you weren’t answering your phone so I started the new set without you. Don’t worry, though, because I only got, like, the right wing assembled before I realized it’s not as fun without you there and--,”

The words fly out of Ned’s mouth in a half-comprehensible flurry until he stops to stare at the new baby blue cast his best friend is sporting.

“...what happened to your arm?”

Peter looks down at his feet, a blush creeping against his skin.

“I, uh... fell off a building?”

Ned scrunches his nose and leans closer.

“Were you,” Ned glances over his shoulder and lowers his voice to a whisper, “fighting bad guys?”

Yea, Peter thinks, something like that.

“It’ll heal in a few days,” he says instead, ignoring the question entirely, “May wanted me to cast it up anyway, you know. Just in case.”

He thinks it sounds convincing, and it must be, because most of the worry drains from Ned’s face.

“Oh. Okay. I just, uh, I thought you’d call me. I’m your guy-in-the-chair, remember? I’m here for you.”

“I know,” he says, feeling a twinge of guilt rise in his chest. He means it. Ned is a better friend than Peter deserves, that much he’s sure of.

“It just happened so fast and... I didn’t want to bother you.”

Things had just started to feel normal again, after the Blip. That’s what people had started to call it—the reversal of the Snap.

Some people were having a harder time adjusting than others, but Ned seemed to be doing better than most. His family had all been snapped and brought back together. He had a thing, for lack of a better word, going on with Betty Brant. He’d fallen right back into place in this new, messy reality, and Peter didn’t want to hold him back from that.

He didn’t need to know that Peter was having a much harder time with the whole thing, that he still had nightmares about the moments before, that he felt it when every cell in his body was torn apart.

But maybe Ned does know some of that, because he thinks he sees his friend’s smile fall just a little.

“Next time?”

The question hangs in the air for a second, and Peter swallows the urge to brush it off, to refuse his best friend who, bless his soul, just wants to help.

“Of course,” Peter says weakly, but it’s enough.

“Okay,” Ned replies, a finality to his voice, and he doesn’t push any further. Seriously, bless his soul.

“Do you, uh... do you want to sign my cast?”

In an instant, his best friend’s mouth perks back up at the corners and he’s already reaching into his bag for a marker.

“Dude,” he grins, “I thought you’d never ask.”

///

“Peter, I’m about to head out, but my phone is on so if you need anything,” she pauses when she gets to his doorway.

He’s sitting on his bed, managing an awkward attempt at pulling a sweatshirt over his head with only one good arm.

The bed dips a little when she sits down next to him and gently helps him pull the fabric over the blue cast despite his meager attempt at a protest.

He can smell the perfume on her skin and he flinches when he realizes he doesn’t recognize the scent. When he’d hugged her that morning before the field trip—a month ago, for him, but a lifetime ago for her—she’d smelled like apples and jasmine and sunshine. 

She smells like vanilla and musk now, and it’s... different. Foreign. It’s just off enough to remind him that the woman in front of him, familiar as she looks, isn’t quite the same person he left behind. That thought makes him feel a little empty inside.

It’s a feeling he’s grown accustomed to in the past few days.

“Have you told Tony about that, yet?” She gestures to the injury on his arm, concern seeping through her eyes.

“No.”

May arches her eyebrow at him, silently prodding him for an explanation.

“It’ll heal by the end of the week anyway, and I don’t want to get him all worked up, especially when, you know--,” he stops short, biting his lip, “he’s still recovering. He doesn’t need—he needs to focus on himself, and he should be with Morgan and Pepper and his family right now. He doesn’t need to be worrying about me.”

The scent gets stronger the closer she gets, but he tries to ignore that when she wraps her arms around him. He clutches his fingers into the fabric of her dress and rests his head against her shoulder.

“We can’t help worrying about the people we love, sweetheart.”

He doesn’t deserve her.

“I’m okay,” he whispers, his face half-buried in her hair. She’d stopped dyeing it at some point, he notices, opting instead to let some strands of grey peek through.

She pushes against his shoulders until he’s looking straight into her eyes.

“Are you?”

He knows she’s not just talking about his arm anymore.

“Because I don’t have to do this—I can cancel right now. We can order a pizza, rent a movie. Just you and me.”

He knows what she’s really saying: we can go back to the way things were before.

“No, you should go,” he says quickly, pushing a smile onto his face, “I’ll be okay. Promise. You deserve a night out.”

May holds his gaze for a second longer, debating on if she should cancel anyway, despite his assurances.

“You promise to call if you need anything?”

“Of course.”

“Okay,” she says, but it’s still hesitant. She doesn’t know how to approach anything anymore—how to piece together the new parts of her life and reconcile them with her old one. 

Because how the hell do you do this?

It’s not like there’s a road map for navigating the return of a child you thought was gone forever.

The scary truth is that she’s flying blind, making it up as she goes and praying Peter knows that even though some things have changed, he’s still the most important part of her life. No matter what.

“I larb you,” she says, and she means it. She might be stumbling through everything else—pretending to know the right things to say—but the fact that she loves him? She knows that.

“I larb you, too,” he says back, and something sad flashes in his eyes before he covers it up with a smile.

“Tell Happy I said hey.”

///

He wakes up to his phone ringing in his hand.

“Hey,” he answers, still half-asleep, expecting May’s voice on the other end.

“Hey, kid.”

Peter’s heart freezes in his chest.

“Mr. Stark?” 

“The one and only.” 

“What’re you—why are, um, what’s up?” 

“I tried calling you earlier, but you didn’t answer and I haven’t heard from you in about a week or so and May said you’ve been a little off lately so I figured,” the words tumble out of his mouth in a rush, and he takes a breath to slow himself down, “I wanted to see you.”

There’s something fragile in his voice that makes Peter want to cry, but he wills the tears back into his eyes when he hears a knock on the door.

“And I hope that’s okay,” he can hear the voice on the other side of the door and through the phone at the same time, “because I’m already here.”

The key turns in the lock and suddenly he’s staring right into Tony’s face.

He drops the phone from his ear and Tony does the same. 

“Hey.”

“H-hey.”

Tony moves first, taking a step inside and closing the door behind him. Peter’s still frozen to the spot when Tony assumes the seat next to him on the couch.

He notices the cast immediately.

“What happened to your arm?”

“Nothing,” Peter blurts, “I just... fell.”

His eyebrow quirks up.

“Are you patrolling already?”

He thinks about saying yes, because that would be easier, but something about Tony’s fingers running gently over his cast makes it impossible to lie.

“Not exactly,” he says, deciding to deflect instead. 

Tony’s gaze flickers from the blue material to Peter’s face and back again. 

“So I’ll ask again,” he says, his voice pressing and concerned all at once, “what happened to your arm, Pete?”

Peter’s eyes train on the paisley designs of the carpeted floor.

“I wasn’t patrolling. I’m not quite... I’m not ready for that, yet. I just needed a breather, you know? Because I see you guys with your new lives and I’m happy for you, I am. It’s just that sometimes this is all... it’s a lot to take in.”

Tony seems a little surprised by that, runs a hand through his graying hair.

“I didn’t think about how hard this has to be for you. I’ve been so focused on the fact that you’re here and that you’re alive... I didn’t think about the other side of it.” 

The man looks right into his eyes, and Peter’s caught off-guard by the awe that’s still there—the same awe from that moment on the battlefield, when he’d hugged him close and looked at him like the planets had all aligned.

“It’s selfish, isn’t it,” Peter asks, but it’s not really a question. He shouldn’t be feeling this way—shouldn’t be feeling this lost when people like May and Tony’s lives were flipped upside-down and had only just been righted again.

He shouldn’t be resentful of the fact that May has Happy now, or that Tony has Morgan and Pepper and his little lake house in the woods. He shouldn’t hate that the world hadn’t paused just for him, that it passed him by. This—the look on Tony’s face right now, the softness in May’s voice when she’d realized he was really back—this should be enough.

“I could never think you’re selfish, kid.”

His mind flashes back to that night—to feeling utterly insignificant as he looked down at the world from the top of the Tower.

“You would,” he argues, his voice breaking as something inside him shatters, “if you knew how I really broke my arm.”

Peter can see the exact moment the pieces click together in Tony’s brain.

“I went to the Tower, because I thought it would help me make sense of everything, but it didn’t. I felt... I felt even further away from everyone. And then I was up there and the ground was so far down and for a second it just seemed like it would be easier if I--,” he’s choking on every other word, his throat stinging on the acid rising from his stomach. 

“I didn’t fall, Mr. Stark,” he can see Tony’s Adam’s apple bob, can see the tears pricking in the man’s eyes as Peter admits to him, almost inaudibly, what he hadn’t even wanted to admit to himself, “I let go.”

The next few moments are a blur of sobs and hiccups and limbs tangled together as Tony lurches forward, almost on instinct, and holds him so tight he thinks his arm might break again.

“You should hate me,” Peter whispers, “May, too. I don’t deserve you. After everything I already put you guys through--.”

“Hey,” Tony quiets him, “nothing in this world could ever make me hate you, and I’d bet my whole life on May feeling the same way. I know it’s messy and complicated now, and I can’t even begin to imagine what you’re going through, but you belong here, Pete.”

Peter sniffles in response, and Tony pushes him back just enough to meet his swollen eyes.

“I wish I would’ve known how you were feeling. I wish I could just zapped the hurt away. I wish that, when we fought Thanos the first time, I could’ve saved you.” 

He takes a breath.

“I’ve come up short a billion different ways in your life. And—despite what other people may think—I’m not arrogant enough to believe that I won’t keep coming up short, kid. There’ll be moments I miss, spaces I can’t quite fill. But I’m still going to try. I’m going to sit right here when everything around you feels big and hold you until it all feels small. I’m not going anywhere. We’re going to get through this together, okay?”

Peter swallows, burrows into Tony’s side.

“Okay.”

May comes shortly afterward, and Tony rubs Peter’s back while she holds his hand and listens through tears as he tells her about that night, about the night he’d felt so numb he felt like he’d needed to do something, anything to feel again. About the night he’d climbed up ninety-three stories just to dive down.

Tears and hugs and apologies are thrown through the air like confetti, all landing together in an mess of intertwined arms and blotchy faces.

“I’m sorry,” Peter says, one last time, the sound muffled by the warmth of someone’s shoulder.

“Shh,” May coos, the pads of her thumb pressed to his cheek, “we’ll make it work sweetheart, just like we always have. No requiems tonight.”

“We love you, kiddo,” Tony adds, “no matter what.”

For a second, the world falls away.

He knows that it won’t last for forever, that the same big bustling world is going to be there to greet him tomorrow, but for right now he fits perfectly in the spot between Tony and May.

For now, everything feels just a little bit smaller.

///

There’s an empty spot next to Peter when he wakes up to the sun streaming through the blinds. May’s arms are still tangled around him, which leaves...

“Right here, Pete,” Tony calls out from a chair across the room, looking like he hadn’t slept all night. A stack of papers that weren’t there before sits on the coffee table in front of him.

“My therapist had an idea,” he explains, nodding toward the pile. “I wasn’t talking to her. I didn’t... I didn’t want to face the fact that you might never come home. She thought it might be good to write letters, instead. I thought it was stupid, at first, but eventually it helped. It made me feel like, somehow, I could still talk to you. There were so many things I wanted to say, that I’d wished I’d told you sooner, and it gave me an outlet to do that. You don’t have to read them, if you don’t want to, because I’m sure most of them don’t make a whole lot of sense anyway, but if you want--,” he trails off.

Peter picks up one of the papers, hesitant.

He reads one, then two, and before long he’s almost through them all.

They all start the same way, Dear Peter Parker, and vary from there.

One of them talks about moving to the lake house.

I think you’d like it out here. It’s quiet, which is good, because sometimes I think that big brain of yours gets a little too loud. If and when you come back, there’s a room for you upstairs. I’ve even got those god-awful gaudy Yoda sheets you love so much tucked into a closet just for the occasion.

A few talk about Morgan.

I was terrified, kid, when Pep told me the news. I barely know how to take care of myself, let alone a tiny human. But Pepper’s always been my beacon of wisdom, and one day she smacked me upside the head and said that this wasn’t going to be anything new, that I’d already had years of practice. I’d never thought of it that way before—but she’s right. Of course she is. You’ve always been something like my kid, and in Pep’s words, I’ve even got the gray hairs to prove it.

The letters grow farther apart as the years go on, but the sentiment stays the same.

You haven’t been forgotten. 

Tony watches, holding his breath, as the kid tears through letter after letter. He feels like he should be embarrassed, essentially baring his soul in written format, but the way Peter stares at each page with reverence supersedes anything else.

These words were long overdue, anyway.

May has long since woken up by the time Peter grasps the last one in his hands, reading silently over his shoulder.

This one isn’t quite like the others. It’s dated for today.

Dear Peter Parker,

Today is going to be a good day and here’s why: because today you’re you and you’re here and that’s enough. Because you’re not in this alone. Because even when the dark comes crashing through, when you don’t feel strong enough, you’ve got me and May and Ned and everyone else to carry you. I know you feel lost, and a little bit broken, and that’s okay. We’re going to be here,  and we’re going to help you get back up on your feet. You’ll find your place here, kid. If there’s one thing I’m sure of more than anything else, it’s this: if you look up and look around, you will be found.  

-T.S.

There are tears pricking at his eyes when he finally looks up.

At some point, Tony has reclaimed the spot next to him, and he and May exchange turns pressing kisses to Peter’s forehead. 

“I’ve said it a million times, but I’m going to keep saying it until you believe it: you are not alone, Pete.”

You are not alone.

You belong here.

He looks outside, sees the same sun continue to rise, the same sky go on and on for forever, the same city continue to pass by, but this time it feels different. 

This time, he does believe it.

Maybe not right this second, but somehow, someday, he’ll be okay.

Dragons For Hire

This works basically like a shipping list and sort of a rp starter! If any of these dragons provide a service that one of your dragons is looking for feel free to message me here or on FR!

Assassins

Need some murders? These dragons are REALLY good at murder

Nepenthe

She’s the Goddess of Revenge from another world, and came to Sornieth to search for her father and kill him. She grew up alone in a forest and had to learn how to survive on her own.

She’s not very good at conversation, but what she lacks in social skills are excellent tracking abilities and hunting skills. She could track down almost anyone on the planet using only a few leads. And she’s good at killing too and isn’t afraid to get bloody

Bloodmoon

Her family was murdered when she was young, and she suffered from a bad concussion that gave her amnesia for a lot of her earliest memories. After her injury she was raised by a violent skydancer who taught her all sorts of ways to kill. She was raised to believe killing was a way of life, and she began to enjoy it a bit too much.

She’s not as stealthy as Nepenthe, and she’s not a good tracker, but she’s really useful if you know where your victim is, because once Bloodmoon know where her prey is, there’s no stopping her.

Dracula

He’s a vampire and would do anything for blood.

He’s an unusually tiny nocturne and it’s easy for him to sneak into places. However since he cannot enter direct daylight he ca only travel during night, so progress may be slow. (there’s also the chance he may just settle for who’s blood is easiest to get)

Shade Chasers

They’re specialized assassins that hunt down any Shade creature. So if you’re having any Shade problems, these are the dragons to call.

Tiberius

He was once a fae and his mother was obsessed with the Shade. She experimented Shade energy on her own children. Tiberius was lucky enough to run away before she could infect him. He enrolled in the Plague Academy of Shade Chasers(PASC)  and saved up enough money for a breed change to give him a better advantage in the boot camp.

Tiberius is one of the most skilled Shade Chasers that PASC has to offer. He is in the top class known as the Irradiated Mages. He has been infused with powerful Arcane magic to destroy the Shade with. Only a handful of dragons survive to become one of the Mages.

Evarado

He was always violent, so he decided to use that violence to destroy the Shade. He isn’t friendly company, but he’s an effective Shade Killer, a melee class in PASC. His many skills include blood magic, strength, high pain tolerance, and skills with many weapons.

Renek

Her background in botany as made her skilled with poisons of all kinds, and she’s discovered a few that have an affect on the Shade. She’s not good at directly fighting Shade creatures. She isn’t very strong, nor does she have powerful magic, but she is sneaky and quick on her feet. She’s the best at investigating Shade activity, but not destroying Shade creatures.

Monachopsis

He was born with a ‘blessing’ from the Plaguebringer. From his scales ooze acid. It is painful, but he has grown used to the pain. What’s worse to him is that he cannot touch anyone without hurting them.

But his acid has some use. It makes him immune to the Shade and he’s able to burn it away. He is part of the melee class of PASC, the Shade Killers.

Artists

Dragons to commission any art of your dreams.

Flare

A very talented and experienced artist. She’s an expert in several different mediums including many different paints, like oil and water color, and she can make both wooden and stone sculptures. She can be hired as an art teacher or commissioned. 

The only downfall of hiring her is her curse that makes her burst into flames at random times. She needs to have a water source around her at all times and it’s recommended she stay away from flammable materials. 

Soul

If you need someone to sing or write songs, then Soul is your dragon! He has a way with words and an incredible singing voice. He can play a few stringed instruments as well.

He’s also a mechanic so he can be hired for that as well.

Frankenstein

She’s a beginner artist but has gotten really good at water color and oil pastel. She started painting as an art therapy as she tried to find meaning to her strange existence. She’s literally the corpse of a few different dragons stitched together and given sentience, so that was a bit of a complicated issue to sort out to put lightly.

but hey now she’s a walking corpse that paints so that’s pretty cool!

Muerto

He’s a beginner artist and like Frankenstein, he also became an artist from art therapy! He’s not the best artist, but he’s young and is still learning. He’s getting better everyday and he’s proud of himself for it. Also did I mention he’s a literal child and it would make his day if someone commissioned him?

Please commission the child

Healers

Hecate

She’s the best healer of Ton Theon. She can quickly close up wounds within seconds and repair all internal damage with her magic. However, she learned the hard way that her magic is not limitless. It takes a lot out of her to use her magic to heal, and she often needs to eat and sleep to recover. If she uses too much of her magic at once she can not only drain her body of energy, but actually use up all of her magic and she would be forced to go back to her Source Magic.

The magic that Hecate uses is not her own, but is powered by a legendary Pear that was once owned by an infamous Pearlcatcher known as Cassiopeia. That story is a long one, but she has to return to the deadly territory that Pearl is found in in order to regain her magic if she is drained of it.

Alaria

She’s another healer of Ton Theon. She’s not as good a healer as Hecate, but to be fair Hecate is only as good as she is by stealing magic that’s not her own. Alaria doesn’t heal with magic, but instead that good old fashioned way with bandages and herbs.

Alaria grows her own herbs and knows everything there is to know about medicinal plants.

Alaria is also a mechanic and uses these skills to give some of her patients prosthetic limbs, and in one case, a new nervous system.

Bacitracin

He’s the God of Healing from another world. He’s only visiting Sornieth for a short time, but he has knowledge of all things medicine. Unfortunately he cannot use his healing magic here on Sornieth, as magic works differently in this world than in his own, but he can still pass on his knowledge of medicine to anyone who needs it, and he’s particularly knowledgeable in mental health, unlike Hecate and Alaria.

Archaeologists

June

June is a particularly bold Archaeologist who had been studying the Light Ruins since she was a hatchling. She became particularly fascinated in the Hewn City and dedicated her life to research in it.

Sadly she uncovered some nasty Shade activity in the city, and became Shade-Touched. She ended up being trapped in the city for almost a year with no recollection of it, and lost her mate and granddaughter who were studying the city with her to Shade infections.

Still, even though she knows how dangerous the City is, she wants to go back and further her research.

Night

Night has always been a jack or all trades. They’ve been a philosopher, an artist, a creative writer, a journalist, and a astronomer. Recently they’ve been dabbling in archaeology. They’ve been studying the civilizations of the beings of the Third Agem which eventually led them to the Hewn City. They almost died there from Shade Activity and an Emperor attack, but they survived and the experience only peaked their curiosity even more.

Cooks

Firespitter

He can make some mean soup. He’s so good at soup. He’s also pretty good at making stew, and pretty much anything with meat in it. He’s always cooking something and he loves trying new things.

Sometimes he also gets hit with random prophecies or visions so that’s just a bonus to him being your chef.

Bonita

Bonita is a bit better with cooking the veggie dishes, even if she herself hates them all her tundra customers say it’s really good.

She’s a bit loud when she cooks and likes to sing badly as she does so, so if you can put up with her horrible singing she’s the chef for you!

Kissa

Kissa is best at baking all sorts of sweets. From cookies to cakes to pies, she can do it all and she loves doing it. She often can’t stop baking she loves it so much.

So help her out and either hire her or buy some of her cookies!

Necromancers 

Peripeteia

Peri is a necromancer. There’s not really much else to say about it. She was born into this life and she didn’t have the choice to become a necromancer. It wouldn’t be all that bad if it didn’t also come with a curse that makes her slowly rot away.

Luckily there is a way to reverse the rot, but she has to steal from the living in order to do so. Don’t worry, she’s a nice necromancer and would never want to harm another dragon, but she’d happily raise some zombies for you if the price is right.

Scutum

Scutum learned necromancy as a hatchling, much to the horror of his birthclan. He ended up using his power to attempt to raise and Emperor and use it to attack the Lightweaver. The plan failed, and the Lightweaver banished him from her land. Now he lives on a little island in the Starfall Isles called Nihil and he raises the dead to amuse his Queen.

But he wants to do more with his gift. Necromancy has so much potential. Hire him and maybe you’ll find out.

Animal Tamers

Elymas

Elymas thinks snakes are pretty cool, so he’s developed a bond with a few and has learned a lot about snake behavior. If you ever need someone to tame some snakes, or remove them, then Ely is your guy.

He’s also pretty good at training horses, but I don’t think there are any horses on Sornieth and I doubt a dragon would need a horse.

Arkina

Arkina is a huge animal lover. She loves animals so much that she has dedicated her life to reaping animal souls. For the wild animals she reincarnates them, but for the animals who had been beloved pets, she keeps the souls safe for when the owner dies.

She’s good with any kind of animal.

Farmers/Gardeners

Zeamays

Zeamays loves corn. He’s really good at growing corn. His corn is really good. He’s also great at growing other crops. Pretty much any crop you can imagine he can probably grow and it’ll be really good too. But corn is his favorite to grow.

Amara

Amara doesn’t grow food, but she is a really good gardener! She’s good at growing house plants and flowers. She knows the perfect temperature to grow her plants, and what sort of soil is best for them. She can also recommend insects to help a garden flourish.

Elysian

Elysian is good at growing food like Zeamays. Unlike him she uses magic to grow it, so if you want a good, quick crop she can be hired, but afterward you may not be able to replant anything as her magic tends to suck all the nutrients from the soil.

Historians 

Lakra

Lakra is Ton Theon’s oldest librarian and he knows just about every book written and released to the public in the Sunbeam Ruins. He knows the history of Light through and through, even some parts that the Lightweaver herself is ashamed of. He used to keep the knowledge of Emperors a well hidden secret, but since his clan came face to face with one of the undead beasts he realized just how dangerous concealing knowledge can be.

Masika

Masika is Lakra’s mate and his assistant at the library. She knows almost as much as him, but she’s never been the best at memorization. She also tends to be a nervous wreck and it’s easy to spook her. Still, she tries her best and could be helpful with recommending books especially if they deal with the Sunbeam Ruins.

Designers 

Virtuous

She’s a busy woman who doesn’t leave much Time for herself (ironic considering she’s the Goddess of Time), but in her free time she enjoys knitting, weaving and sewing. She’s be happy to make anything from stuffed toys to clothing. It’s a good distraction from the demon that’s been hunting her for billions of years.

Nullity

Much like her grandmother, Virtuous, Nullity as found a love with clothing. She’s really good at designing new dresses and making new outfits. She also have an eye for everything make up and hair style. She could give you a makeover, or just give you a few tips on fashion.

Thieves

Juno

Juno is the captain of the Foo’s Eye pirates. She’ll do anything for money. She’ll steal, or murder or anything else shady as long as she’s being paid.

Spa

Lavender

Lavender is the owner of the Ember Sun Spa and Resort. He’s happy to let anyone visit his spa and resort.

Entry Five

Kachina.

Its been years since I've thought of that name. Years more since I actually associated myself with it. I thought that she was in the past, yet here I am.

We arrived in Wyrmshoals yesterday. As we approached the city, I told the others about Sicarius's bounty. They took it better than I thought they would. Part of me was afraid Arslan would just try to claim it, or that Aliana would panic at travelling with a criminal, but they all stood by me. That's the first part of whats led to my current mental state.

It was good to see Wyrmshoals again, despite everything. Of all the places in this world, its the most like home. If I ever get the chance to settle down, I think it'll be here. The smells of the markets, the canals weaving everything together, the sounds of the crowds, and the salt in the air; there's no place in this world I'd rather be, on the surface or underwater. Drae used a spell to modify my scales and fins to be blue as a disguise, and Artie lent me his cloak. They're good friends. Better than I've had in a long time.

We entered the city mostly without incident, but Drae did manage to introduce the guards to philosophy. She (I'll get to that later) asked one of the guards where the ocean ends. I swear, I saw that poor man's mind explode. It was kind of beautiful really. Weird to think Artie, Ulrika, and Drae have never seen the ocean before coming here. Even when I've walked forests and mountains I've always had the ocean in the back of my head.

Haverson's face at sight of me was a thing of beauty; we haven't seen each other in years. He gave us a booth, and I told the others the truth. All of it.

It was painful. Gods above and below, it was painful. Hard to describe... I'd thought about those memories a lot recently, but not actually about what was in them.

When I was done, they all reacted differently. It was hard for me to read some of their emotions. Artie seemed horrified by what happened to Haluk. Drae was kind about it all. Arslan offered to help me kill Sicarius; that was unexpected. Ria stayed quiet, but that's normal for her. Ulrika was quiet as well, but again, normal. Aliana jumped straight into trying to fling her political clout around, try and get my name cleared.

They brought me to tears, though I tried to hide it. Besides Haverson, no one has shown me kindness like this since Haluk died. I can't believe I threatened to kill Aliana in the past. She's been nothing but patient and kind, and now that she knows I'm a wanted criminal under her own mother's law, she's standing by me all the same.

After all that was done, we had a chat with Haverson. I gave him a gift of the Aqueln wine. I owe him literally everything I have, so that wine was the least I could do. He told use about some kidnappings that have been occuring in the city. Every one of them Aqueln. He also mentioned that the bounty hunters have stopped looking for me at his inn. Those two little facts together... I have a horrifying suspicion as to why these Aqueln are vanishing. I hope I'm wrong. I pray I'm wrong.

We began investigating with a Captain, a contact Haverson has. He killed two of the pirates in front of us (Artie pointedly watched the ocean instead), and then showed us to a smuggler who could potentially take us to the pirate's cove.

I can summarise the smuggle as 'ew'. A somewhat lecherous criminal who treated murder as a business deal and gave Aliana possibly the single most disturbing look I've seen in my life, and I've met Yagram. We worked out a 'deal'. We'd guard his warehouse for the night and kill anyone who tried to break in, and in exchange he'd ferry us to the cove. We'll split the loot 60/40.

A few hours later we'd negotiated an arrangement with the Thieves Guild. They'll ignore the smuggler's buildings for a week, and in exchange we don't do anything to them. In short, we lose nothing, no one has to die, and the smuggler gets screwed over. Win win win.

After that, everything went wrong. The others drank. They got up to some odd things, but none of that matters, because Drae drank her wine. It wasn't wine.

This morning, when we woke, Drae was different. Very, very different. Sane. Her insanity wasn't natural, wasn't due to an injury, its due to a fucking spell. That Cultist, that monster of a cultist we met back in that farmhouse has stalked her for years, and tried to make her 'his perfect bride' by breaking her mentally with madness. The wine alleviated it, temporarily.

That poor, poor girl. She seemed sweet and innocent before because she was sweet and innocent. These monstrous things she does sometimes; its not of her own volition, its because she's had this psychosis forced upon her by a bastard Cultist who deserves a fate worse than that which the gods can bestow. I can't even begin to imagine what I'd do to him if I had the chance... murder's too good. Maybe some kind of perpetual healing and fire feedback loop? Or a means of freezing his blood nonfatally, but permanently? Or maybe I could reverse the process and leave him gibbering in the dirt instead?

Kachina, stop. No. These thoughts aren't who you want to be, remember?

Regardless. Drae has been living as a man these past years as an attempted disguise. Clearly it hasn't worked. She's been travelling to Bournerock to try and cure herself. I've made her a promise while she's still lucid; I will do whatever I can to help her break this spell. Even if it takes decades. No one hurts my friends. No one.

After that, I made a suggestion; that we take a day in the city to do mundane things. I was still broken up inside about everything I'd spoken about the previous day; I'd had vivid nightmares again. The old ones. Haluk's body with his blood slowly dancing in the water around him. Sicarius's face contorted with laughter. Mum and dad hugging me as they sent me off to the surface. Between myself and Drae, I knew we weren't in a fit state to fight pirates that evening, so we arranged to postpone it and just relax.

I started to say I wanted to buy new clothes, and Aliana leapt, quite literally, at the opportunity. She dragged me out of the Scaled Fish and towards clothes shops faster than you can say 'stereotype'. Drae tagged along as well. We relaxed, chatted with the shopkeeper and each other, and got some new outfits. After that, I showed them the cities street food.

My god I missed squid. You can't get squid anywhere on the surface except this city, I swear.

After that, just started a new enchantment and chatted with Aliana back at the Fish. And I realized something.

I was happy. Relaxed. Myself. A day where I wasn't travelling for the sake of my own neck, or fighting for some cause under a nebulous title, more a figure than a person.

And so, I've made a choice.

I'm done running. I'm done being afraid of Sicarius, of hiding from my past. I thought becoming Viatori could be a way to deal with it, and for a while it worked. I was happy, but I was on eggshells. That fear, in the back of my head, always. Just look at how I reacted to Aliana! That's not how I want to live out the rest of my days.

And remembering my family; I want them to stay my family. Viatori and Kachina don't have to be two different people. I won't let Kachina die. Because when she's dead, what's left of her brother, mother, or father? A stranger born on the surface. I refuse to let that happen. I'm going to take what I've learned as Viatori, and use it to set my life back on course.

I don't have a plan. I don't know what to do. All I know is this. I'm going to clear my name. I'm going to see Sicarius and his pet assassin pay for what they've done one way or another, and I'm going to be a free woman.

It starts with the pirates tomorrow. I don't know where this road leads, or how hard it will be to walk, but its the road I choose.