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merakiui · 8 months

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*DIGS YOU OUT FROM THE MUD* MOOOOOAR!!!! HDJSJSK once azul find out the secret behind his fave milk, floyd takes him out back and forces him to breed u to keep quiet and jade omg jad has the biggest balls and loves to put them on ur face aaaaaaa

AAAAAAAA YES YES YES OTL THANK YOU FOR DIGGING ME OUT.......... allow me to describe The Vision because I had more thoughts while I was trapped under the mud.

(cw: nsfw, female hucow reader, breeding, pregnancy, bull hybrid jade, lactation, there's really no plot here; just pure horny >_< )

✧ floyd has the biggest crush on you and it's so obvious, but he's not allowed to touch you because boring farm regulations and blah blah blah. >:( it wouldn't be good if another male's scent was on you when they're trying to pair you and jade together, and floyd thinks that's a stupid rule because you're his girl!!! he definitely doesn't follow it. maybe he promises to be good and pull out each time, maybe give you a bath to wash his scent off, just to keep things safe. he's so stupidly in love with you and it shows. orz his favorite thing to do is milk you because you make the cutest little sounds. he's painfully hard the entire time and he can't stop looking at your heavy tits, admiring the feel of them in his hands, or the way you tremble, your body alight with arousal. he's down so bad. he has to cap all of the bottles and stock them in the fridge first before he's going off to deal with his erection. T_T

✧ and jade......... he's a sly bastard. he knows floyd's in love with you (anyone could tell) and he takes every possible opportunity to stir up drama just for the fun of it. floyd threatens to send him off to the slaughterhouse if he keeps acting like an ass, but that's jade's specialty. <3 he just loves pressing you against the fence and rutting into you from behind, loves to drink straight from your tits, loves to fuck you in broad daylight so that everyone on the farm knows you're getting your guts rearranged by him. and floyd hates it! it's just not fair. why did they have to bring jade in? can't they just leave the breeding up to floyd? he'd gladly knock you up. but you and jade are so compatible and jade's so possessive of you, and the last time floyd tried to enter your pen he was swiftly kicked in the stomach. ;;;;;

✧ and azul!!!! he loves, loves, loves the milk from this farm. it's just so delicious; it's made the dishes at his restaurant taste even better than before. since he's an ambitious man, he originally visits the farm with the intention of purchasing whichever dairy cow is responsible for producing such high-quality milk just so he can get it straight from the source without having to go through the hoops of shipping and whatnot. but floyd's so evasive with answering his questions and as azul's leaving in a huff he passes the barn and spies you inside and...... now he needs you!!! he'll pay any price; he's desperate. floyd's dying inside because no one's supposed to know about you, but this loud-mouthed businessman knows and..... he allows azul to milk you so he can take a few bottles home for himself in exchange for his silence, and azul is so good at rizzing you that he ends up fucking you. and jade lets it happen because it's another fun way to watch floyd shrivel up and die. T_T he's so mean,,,,,

✧ and when you're pregnant, your milk production seems to double and you have to be milked multiple times a day because your tits get so heavy and full. floyd's living the dream, even more so when you weep and beg him to just fuck you already because you're soooo sensitive and soooo horny and you desperately need to be filled with cock; and jade's busy napping, so he can't do it. floyd gladly takes his place and he's the happiest in the world because after so long he finally gets to fuck you. he cums so much, all of it stuffed inside, and he cradles your belly so sweetly and tenderly.

✧ the alternative to this idea is that azul kidnaps you from the farm and keeps you captive in his home so that he can always have your milk for himself. not only for personal enjoyment but for the mostro lounge as well, and you hate him so much because he took you away from your home and friends and he keeps you shackled and collared with a little bell so you won't run away or escape. you've spent so long with him and you're months into your first pregnancy with him and he's been nothing but sweet and soft and he fucks you so good; and he's always so eager to milk you and he praises you constantly. stockholm syndrome kicks in and suddenly he's not so bad. suddenly you don't hate him anymore. suddenly you're riding him into the sheets with reckless abandon and coming apart on his cock because it feels so good and you love him so much and this is where you've always wanted to be. this is your home.

#twisted chit chat #n/sfw #tw: breeding #tw: lactation #tw: pregnancy #tw: hybrids #i might have to write something for that last plot with azuzu.......#i do not write about stockholm syndrome enough but the idea of hucow darling being conditioned to rely on him for everything is so good orz #because he's the one who does everything for you #and he's manipulated you so well that you no longer fear his touch and why should you when he's been nothing but kind and helpful and !!!!!#(burying myself under the mud this time because these thoughts are plaguing me)

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shinimout · 6 months

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they have a baby

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beanghostprincess · 7 months

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here's a lil something from this silly lil zolu/sanuso one-shot i'm writing about usopp and luffy being close besties and sanji and zoro being jealous bc they're stupid af

thanks @leiatroublecat for the inspiration kind of and i'm sorry i made your silly fluffy pining thing angsty but i swear on ace's grave the rest of the fic is adorable and funny this is just a page (▔﹏▔)

#i know this does not seem silly or little #but have you considered that i'm uncapable of writing fluff without angst #please somebody help i have serious issues #i took my moots silly idea and made it hurt/comfort and deeper than it is bc i'm mentally ill #THIS WASN'T EVEN THE PLOT I'M SO SORRY #ughhhhhhh i hate being like this i love you mootie #sanuso #zolu #sanji #usopp #monkey d luffy #roronoa zoro #one piece

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moeblob · 15 days

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What Deacon thinks: what did that mean? did he want me to wear a collar too? why else would he mention my neck? i mean, if he /asked/ me i would wear one but he didn't so would wearing one be weird?

What Ymber meant: It's nice to be near someone who isn't tethered to this world to serve it with a physical reminder for all to see.

#my characters #this just in ! thats why all the deities in the plot have collars and a chain !#its because THATS THEIR DESIGNATED I AM HERE TO HELP THIS WORLD SYMBOL #they cant remove their collars and thats fine by them - its a constant reminder that they exist to serve #deacon really shouldnt get as much crap as he gets in canon for being weird cause the deities are just a different brand of weird #like its not deacons fault that apparently you can say nice neck with no underlying desire #but he cant say hi would you please possess me i want to know what its like to have someone else in my body #like thats really not something you should pin on deacon YET EVERY deity is like wow what a lil weirdo #he also just really wants to please ymber so if ymber asked he would definitely do whatever #on the flip side i need to point out that deacon very specifically doesnt ask ymber for things nor does he pray for things #and it drives ymber up a wall because this is his favorite human who wont ask for anything and he isnt a psychic #he doesnt know what deacon wants or needs and its infuriating cause he exists to serve humanity #and yet this ONE GUY wont let him do things for him #this is very important and i cant believe i mentioned it like a month ago to someone and today #i received gift art of these two and i may never recover #its so perfect and its ymber just looming over deacon telling him that he can pray about anything to him #its also worth pointing out that when i was telling the person about the whole ymber begging for a prayer #its because he realizes that after all this time hes never had a single prayer from deacon - not before nor after the hire #so hes like oh well thats odd hmm #and then begins to talk to deacon like you know people pray to me for lots of things #and deacon looks at him unsure of what this is leading to - did someone offer a weird prayer? ask a weird thing? whatst?#and no - its just ymber saying that people will pray for wealth or an item #or they will express frustration if something is lost or broken despite it not being ymbers fault so deacon just stares #he has no idea what this is going to end on really so he points out 'well you do like to think you break people'#and ymber just ASDFASDFSADF STOP OK NEXT POINT people pray to me to bless relationships with happiness #and thats fascinating so deacon is like wow can you actually do that?#and ymber is so stressed as hes like i mean kinda i can simply amplify the positive emotions in gestures #like if someone gives an item out of love then its blessed #he also admits that he cant mask insincerity or malice so those feelings are not hidden nor amplified #and deacon just is impressed bc that is actually VERY cool

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dennydraws · 3 months

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I can't believe @sunnyluma bullied me into posting this... Disclaimer: I write fanfiction once in 10 years, English isn't my native language. I got plot bunnies during the affinity event in FEH

Day of Devotion Words: 1877 Characters: F/Robin (FEAwakening) x Julius (FE4)

The Day of Devotion. A lovely holiday in Askr, a day to bring flowers and express love - all kinds of love. Love towards friends, family … and more. Robin smiled as she placed the flowers through her hair. A smile that would slowly wilt with every next bloom that found it's place on her garments. Her family - the shepherds, they were not here. Not in the same ones in any case. Chrom who once was the closest to her heart was now spending the holiday with another Robin. Not that this Chrom was the same Chrom she knew. Just how many versions of herself were there? It would've been a lie if she said she didn't feel cheated that she was plucked form a timeline she had found happiness and salvation from Grima… or was on the verge of it in any case. And now she was here, in the middle of other conflicts. Happiness was so close and then taken away.

But feelings, especially personal ones such as those had no room on the battlefield and she as a tactician knew that better than anyone. So, her smile adorned her lips once more. She still had plenty to be thankful for - Askr was welcoming place and she had the unique opportunity to meet so many heroes from across time and space - even …more versions of herself! She saw some Robins with worse fate - reminding her of what could've been had she not met Chrom. And there were some Robins who seemed to have tied the knot …with some questionable individuals from the army. She still couldn't wrap her mind over how could any versions of herself would get married to Gangrel of all people and yet the utter devotion she could see in their eyes spoke volumes of how strong that bond was. The smile began to wilt again.

"Oh, get a grip Robin… that's not like you at all." She closed her eyes and shook off any sign of bitterness that could even try to emerge. After all, she knew full well what Grima would feed upon if she even slightly allows it. Instead Robin picked the buoquet of flowers and went out to find someone out there who got no flowers today - surely there ought to be a lone soul somewhere in Askr that could use a little happiness today. As Robin strolled the paved streets, slowly but surely she reminded herself - it was for a tactical benefit. Happier heroes make for stronger units. At the end of the day their survival was the main goal. And that's exactly what she thought when her eyes stopped upon Julius. Alone as usual, he was leaning on a tree in the shades and away from everyone and everything. Robin was aware of his circumstances, in fact she considered him almost like a distant reflection of herself. She knew how a dragon's hold on the mind could feel even when everyone in the army was sure there was nothing left of the real Julius there. Purely for tactical purposes, she reminded herself once more. "Happy day of devotion." Robin beamed a polite smile, holding forth the flowers.

There was a moment of complete confusion on Julius' face. Julia had attempted to sneak a bouquet earlier today which he had instantly crushed despite the screams from his inner mortal puppet. He didn't expect more or any other interactions today, in fact he was hoping he'd be left alone today and this brief moment of confusion loosened the grip he had. "Why?" Julius uttered in an usual calmer voice. Robin immediately caught it. So he was still in there, she thought. Talking to her own fallen self was completely useless when she had tried before but this change of tone made her consider - there might still be something of Julius left in him. "Why not? You've been helping the army fight off whatever evil is looming over us. Isn't that a good reason to thank you for your efforts?" Robin answered pulling her best tactician voice. After all, it was simply stating the facts.

"Hah! You think I do that out of devotion? I long to crush you like the little insects you are. The contract simply binds me to crush only specific ones. But when this contract is broken you will make no difference to me!" Julius leaned in, his hand over the flowers clutched into a tight grip before Robin could even let go. "Yes well… I'm glad you are accepting the flowers though my hand doesn't come with them." Robin noted completely ignoring the dragon's taunts. Another moment caught off guard. "Ah…" A sudden obedient withdraw followed. There he was again, Robin thought and a smirk formed her lips. So that's how you had to go with it. The more you registered Loptous the more he emerged. She just had to see Julius instead. Her eyes squinted. But that was an issue wasn't it? No one knew Julius… except when he was a child and even then, that was so long ago. Whoever was inside had all grown up now. "You seek something that is no longer there." the dragon smirked, taking the flowers, nails gripping into them. Oh he only had to tear them now in front of her to make his point and yet, this hand was flinching in disobedience.

"Hmm, yeah been there, done that." Robin waved her hand after which she completely ignored the looming figure and sat under the tree next to him. This dress certainly made it a bit harder. As much as she enjoyed the flowers, at the back of her head she only wished she was in her comfortable long robes and poofy pants. "They only see the monster, the big disappointment that you are no longer you. It really chips away from your confidence, doesn't it? We're not that different - you and I." Julius remained frozen and still. The dragon was silenced in sheer anger. How dared this mortal overlook him!?

"I was just… lucky. I had someone to pull me before that grip got too strong to bear. But there were times I wasn't as lucky." Robin wasn't looking at him, her smile turned somber, "But you are still holding on. It means you are devoted to something - a hope, an idea, maybe someone… That's worth celebrating today, don't you think?" The pain coming through Julius' head was immense but he made no noise. He couldn't let Loptous groan or grunt like every other time he even tried to produce a thought of his own. His hand was holding on to these flowers - a devotion to hope he never dared speak and he was ready to break his own hand before he lets him crush them. The silence hung in the air. Robin didn't move or look up. A heavy feeling began to swell into her throat - is this how Emmeryn felt? Memories of her speech before she lept into her death after no reaction came from the armies started to surface. The painful realization that the ideals you hold on to are not strong enough to change the inevitable tragedy ahead. A mental kick followed - when did she get so foolish as to let emotions dictate her so? She was a tactician. Emmeryn pure and kind expected the best in people and the world needed people like her but Robin? She had to ground herself. This conversation was nothing but tactical approach to boost morale, nothing more.

Something gently snuck behind her ear. A flower form the bouquet. "I used to.. place flowers in her hair." Julius muttered, slow and uncertain. He had leaned over, his look distant yet searching. Robin turned immediately with her eyes widened. This was most certainly not Loptous. Her mind raced. What did he mean? Oh, he probably meant Ishtar. Of course he did. A little bitter reminder. She mentally bit her tongue - now was not the time for this. The point was - he was still there, in fact he emerged. Was it a good moment to run and call for her? No, that would mean leaving him alone and this moment felt too crucial. Like a battlefield on it's own, it was all about timing, catching the flow and turning it to your favor. "The…best I could do... was to let them go. If they hated me…they would not come near, they would not …be hurt by him. If they... knew I was still here…they would hesitate and he would kill them. They…are safe now… without me." Julius continued speaking with his look turning more and more empty with each word.

Robin recognized where this was going. His thoughts would spiral in despair and Loptous would emerge again, maybe this time for good. She had to think fast, what to reply before he'd slip again. She had to help him win this battle. "Your strength is admirable and I say that as a tactician." Robin replied with a forced brighter tone, pushing any and all emotions that could possibly create a tremble. She had to focus on… Julius. Not on Loptous. Not on the weaved tragedy that had stained every step of his life but on the hero who no one would see or even believe was still in there. Julius' eyes gained a brief focus even if no words came out, Robin knew he was looking at her… maybe a bit too strongly. It was strange, she had seen Julius many times, but never… The Julius, nor his look ever felt on her, not like this. She gave herself another mental kick. Now she began to see how some version of her out there married Gangrel - he too probably did this helpless lost look on her and tugged her heart strings. Probably even gave her flowers. Apparently that was a weak spot she had not realized. Although the image of Gangrel holding a bouquet of flowers was absurd and yet suddenly things began to make a bit more sense regarding her romantic choices in some alternative realities.

"I mean it. I'm proud of you, Julius!" Robin added further as small attempt to break the silence once more and shake any potential emotions trying to find their way into her heart. Instead of a reply Julius simply slumped on his knees, much like a tired puppet with loosen strings and planted his forehead on her shoulder. Robin turned stiff as a statue. That certainly wasn't an expected turn of events. Carefully she moved her arms to give him a careful pat which gradually became a hug. Goodness, this… escalated quickly, she thought. Julius couldn't utter more words. Rather he basked in the sensation of his own body for as brief as this was going to last. He wanted to enjoy the moment - he wasn't sure if he'd ever get another. But the smell of flowers in her dress, her hair, the gentle hold on him - yes he… he would get another. He would fight to get another moment such as this.

Autor Note: Do not blame me for this idea, blame this!

I can't believe I wrote a fanfic in 2024 about Fire Emblem...

#My writing!?#Fire Emblem Awakening #Fire Emblem Genealogy of The Holy War #Julius #Robin #I can't believe I got bullied into posting this...help meee #Thank you for stopping by though!#I hope you enjoyed this sudden fuzzy idea :D;;#Sometimes the plot bunnies strike and you just have to write it all in one go

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misclogarts · 3 months

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flowers bloom in secret - a harumiyu playlist

alt versions under cut

#itlog's arts #d4dj #d4dj groovy mix #lyrical lily #haruna kasuga #miyu sakurada #harumiyu #FINALLY i finished working on this playlist. its been almost an entire year. i still have the concept sketch christ #fun fact this was actually supposed to be a fic but i had no idea what to do with the plot so here's an outline:#first part is from haruna's pov; turning point (kiss the girl) is where kurumi and miiko pop in to help their dear chairwoman out #and then after is miyu's pov and then a joint pov for both haruna and miyu:)#i gave them a happy ending! not really the original course of action but oh well #i only started working in this again since i found the PERFECT reference image so everyone say thank you pinterest:)

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ohbo-ohno · 4 months

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guys my exchange fic is going so badly it's actually like. embarrassing

#when i tell you i have forgotten how to WRIIIIITE!!!!#someone send HELP omg...#first check in is TODAY!!! my doc is nothing but an OUTLINE!! ohhhh i am simply going to perish #ceilidh served me an entire plot on a silver platter and i said “tysm. i have no idea how to do anything with this”#im so sorry queen 🙏🙏🙏

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xovera-toz · 4 months

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Universe where the Gravity Falls forest is loosely connected to The Unknown and when Bill tears into the dimension, Beast!Wirt, who senses that something is seriously amiss, is like.

"You. What are you doing."

"Ohhhhh look, a wild little demon, crawling out of underworld's bushes- Can't say I've met you before! Well well well, I'm Bill Chiper, the one and only ruler of this dimension~ You?"

"Um. The Pilgrim. At your service."

"You have manners! What a delight! I'd thought you were some feral midget. What with how you appeared from your little domain..."

"It's not- you know what, nothing. Nothing. But... Would you mind closing that big ahh rip in the sky? It's disturbing the frogs."

"Ha ha HA! The frogs...

Nuh-UH!"

"Fym nuh-uh."

And then after some back and forth, Wirt, visibly done with Bill's bull, treathens everyone with the watchful eyes of black turtles. Because that's literally the best, scariest thing he can come up with.

But the other demons have no idea what this means, that the turtles he's talking about are pint sized on a good day, and they come to the only conclusion-

The AXOLOTL has minions.

Cue a lot of hurried apologies, demons scrambling over eachother to disappear back into the darkness they had come from, and a confused Wirt.

"How'd you do that?"

Dipper would ask, his sense of danger knocked sideways for the time being. He just faced a three dimensional triangle for fairness' sake.

"Uh. Bye."

And that's the last the Pines family ever hears of The Pilgrim.

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catsafari25 · 5 months

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A/N: Hello again, and with this I think (?) I may have succeeded in writing enough bionicle fic to get it out of my system (unless another plot bunny hits me like a cannonball, but... eh, we'll see) and thus, here is the companion piece to the Vakama & Roodaka oneshot.

This time, exploring the scene where Vakama entered the Great Temple, from his side of things! This was also partially inspired by the scene in Challenge of the Hordika where Nokama is almost physically repulsed in trying to enter the Great Temple :)

In the tunnels beneath the temple, Vakama must stoop.

At first he shuffles, mutated arm tucked against him and his sole hand brushing only briefly along the floor to steady himself, but the passages are dark and deep and lined with creatures which seek out the weak. The eyes that watch him are not hungry. They keep their bellies too full for that.

In the end, it is easier quicker to drop to all fours, to share the weight between claw and tool that feet alone cannot. His altered form folds into the new stance with frightening familiarity. It's comfortable.

Natural.

The crown of his mask grazes the tunnel's ceiling, but only in passing. His gait is sure. Well. Surer than the ungainly slouch it had been before.

It was said – back when Matoran were awake to say such things – that even the strongest swimmers of Ga-Metru would hesitate before plunging into the depths of the protodermis sea. Not because the creatures there had any fondness for the taste of Matoran. In truth, it was thought that the rahi actively disliked the flavour. No, it was because the way Matoran swam was indistinguishable from the rahi's usual prey. Only when they had sunk tooth and jaw into their meal would they realise their mistake.

It was an annoying, if harmless mistake for the rahi.

Matoran couldn't say the same.

Vakama's early crawl through the passage had been like that of a Matoran swimmer: functional, but slow and indiscernible from wounded prey. Creatures drag themselves down into these depths to die, in hopes that they will be devoured only when they are too far gone to feel it. The eyes are patient. They will wait to see if this newcomer is similarly inclined.

And so when Vakama drops to his haunches, the eyes blink. Reassess. He moves less like the hunted and more like the hunter now, more predator than prey, and the eyes – and teeth – keep their distance after that.

The path Vakama stalks through was once a protodermis pipe, made obsolete even before the cataclysm. Newer conduits had been built, more efficient, more resilient, and this one had been disconnected but never dismantled. When he reaches its origin, it takes some effort – and his blazer claw – to break the seal across the hatchway, but when he does, one of the temple's protodermis purification chambers looms above him.

The room beyond is quiet.

Unmarked.

He doesn't realise he's stopped until the chittering of his audience draws closer. The snarl he throws back echoes off the pipe's walls, and the eyes retreat, but do not leave.

Vakama curls his hand around the lip of the hatch, and then falters.

Something is wrong.

It's not a pain, because the feeling does not hurt as it ought, but something is undeniably, fundamentally wrong. It causes his breath to catch, his hand to flinch, and it would be so easy, so easy, to turn and walk away, only...

Only he came here for a reason.

The wrongness flares, amplified for a moment, and then he pulls himself up. The eyes watch, but do not follow. Do they feel it too? Can even such base creatures sense the innate malice the temple exudes?

He clambers out of the purification chamber – empty and abandoned now – and stumbles upon his landing. He catches himself, but does not rise back to his feet.

Wrong.

This is wrong.

And at the edge of the wrongness there is a strange sort of terror. It dreads the same way the fire fears the sea, the same way the prey fears the predator; it is the meeting of two primally antithetical forces where only one can survive. It whispers turn back through his mind.

He moves into the next room.

It's one he knows well. Light filters down from the rot-stained windows, centering – as it had the day he'd first seen it – on the suva, and casting long sentinel shadows of the columns standing to attention around it. A crack mars the suva, its stone dome now split cleanly in two from the quakes, and – drawn by some desire he cannot identify (instinct, curiosity... nostalgia?) – he approaches.

It seems so small now. Even bowed and altered in his Hordika form, he looms over the Ta-Metru symbol he'd once had to stretch to reach.

Unbidden, his hand moves to the niche where once he'd placed a Toa Stone – where once he had though himself chosen, duty-bound, destiny-gifted – and falters a breath from the stone.

The wrongness spikes.

Screams.

And with a twist of something he will not call horror, he understands it is not originating from himself.

But from the temple.

It is repulsion. It's alienation. It's recognising him, but as other, as rahi.

It's disgust that a monster would dare enter its sanctuary.

In the Ta-Metru carving, stone once polished to the point of fragmented reflection, he sees a glimmer of his own face. Neither Toa nor Matoran. Nothing blessed by Mata Nui.

Vakama recoils.

And then a wave of his own disgust, propelled by that fury that runs so close to the surface now, rolls through him. If you didn't want us as the Toa, you should've stopped Makuta from choosing us, he thinks, and digs his claws into the stonework.

The wrongness sings.

But he knows it for what it is now, and his morphed, clawed hand gorges scars through the carving. The stone is soft. Its makers had never imagined someone would take a blade to it.

There comes a tapping from across the room, echoing brazenly off the ancient stone walls, and Vakama retreats instinctively into the shadows. A Rahaga enters.

Norik?

No, this Rahaga's armour is more akin to a Po-Matoran than a Ta-Matoran's, the colour of dust and stone. Vakama tries to recall the Rahaga's name – and then dismisses the attempt.

It won't matter, in the end.

The Rahaga walks as he always has, stooped and slow, but clearly unhindered by the temple. He passes by the suva and runs one gnarled hand across the stonework, his movements marred by curiosity rather than reverence.

The rage arrives a fully-formed creation. It drowns out the wrongness, floods the apprehension, and he is moving before he's decided that this is the path he wants.

It is not pain, for it does not hurt as it ought.

But it does still hurt.

Whatever the Rahaga might once have been, they are old and weak now. Four are captured before Vakama's rage has a chance to cool, but the ire is no less dangerous when it does.

(That's the thing about Ta-Metru; it's not a place of fire so much as it is of magma. And magma doesn't extinguish with the cold; it sets. It moors itself into place, an unmovable, burning force.)

The rage settles, solidifies around his heart and lungs and carves a home between his breaths.

(Magma is not fire. It does not leap blindly from one source to the next. Instead it advances. Slowly. Steadily. It finds a channel, a destination, and it engulfs all in its path until it reaches it.)

He finds the last two remaining Rahaga, pathetically ignorant to their brothers' fates and still scavenging the temple for answers. He hears the way Norik appraises his sister's translation, relief clear in his voice that they are one step further on this wild rahi chase. Relief, surely, that the Rahaga are one step closer to regaining their Toa form.

(And Vakama's anger has found its destination.)

He does not descend on the Rahaga's leader the way he has the others. No. Norik will know what's coming for him first. He gets to fear. Vakama waits until Gaaki has gone, until Norik is alone, and then he circles. The wrongness thrums in his veins, weighing him down and labouring his breaths. It doesn't matter. Let Norik hear his approach.

Norik doesn't try to run. Vakama will give him that much. (A wise choice. Vakama intends for this encounter to last, but if Norik runs, Vakama cannot be sure he won't chase.) Instead, the malformed once-Toa calls out and actually tries to approach him. Stupid. Doesn't he know that he won't win any fight, transformed as he is? As both of them are? No, instead, he tries to talk. As if they are equals, as if Norik has done anything to deserve his respect rather than his scorn. As if he has earned the temple's forgiveness for his trespassing.

Even when Vakama raises the fate of Norik's fellow Rahaga, Norik attempts to sway him with the illusion of reason, talking of duty and unity, as if he's not using the other Toa Hordika to chase after a rahi myth for his own desires. As if their roles are in any way comparable, both Toa of Fire once, both leaders, it's true, but Vakama hasn't forgone his duty to chase after selfish needs.

And it stops now.

Vakama circles closer, and Norik is still talking, unease in his voice, but not fear. Still searching for the right words to turn Vakama to his bidding as he has the other Toa Hordika. Ever the voice of two-faced logic.

Why won't he just shut up?

Does Norik think him to be as gullible as the others? As quick to desert his duty as them?

And Vakama knows he wants – needs – to shake that assurance, that arrogance out of Norik. Needs to see that facade of self-righteous wisdom crumble into the terror of his situation.

The growl begins deep in his chest and, unleashed, it becomes a roar. He rears out of the darkness, into the weak sphere of light surrounding Norik – and there, there he finally sees true fear fill the old fool's eyes.

Something slams into Vakama and he reels, his roar cut short. His hand reaches automatically, defensively, to his mask. He finds only water there. It clings to him, imbued with some sort of power – he can feel something other in it – but otherwise impotent.

"Leave my brother alone," Gaaki snarls. She stands in the doorway, small and hopelessly overpowered, but her shoulders are tensed with a stubborness Vakama recognises. Already, her spinner is powering up for another shot.

Well. Two can play at that game.

Vakama's rhotuka fires into motion, but the water has seeped into the mechanism, and dowses the fire before it has a chance to catch. He gives it a withering look, before turning the expression onto Gaaki. "Very clever."

Another water spinner hits him, but this time he is braced for it and all it does is wash harmlessly off him.

"Is that all you have?" he asks. His blazer claw splutters, but the claws on his hand flex. After all, there's more than one way to defang a muaka...

Gaaki steps back. Good. She knows she's outmatched. "It's a devastating attack underwater," she offers, and her words are strong but there is a cracked edge to them.

"Then you'd better start finding a puddle," Vakama growls, "before my claws find you," and he drops into a run, feet pounding and fangs bared and that ever-present wrongness humming about him.

She doesn't flee. Just like Norik, she stands her ground, gnarled fingers wrapped tight around her staff. Her eyes are hard, but he sees the way her hands shake.

How long will her resolve last, Vakama wonders. Before or after the claws find their mark?

He never finds out.

He's knocked off his feet before he reaches her, and when he hits the ground, ropes of energy pin him to the earth, like a water-bound rahi caught in a net.

What–

Norik.

He'd forgotten Norik.

He thrashes against the restraints, but they hold strong – for now. His blazer claw splutters again, but it does nothing to the energy that binds him.

He stills as he hears footsteps approach.

The two Rahaga hobble into his line of sight. Gaaki is breathing hard, as if only now is she allowing herself to feel the fear. "You left that late, Norik," she says, and even the breath that follows sounds more like a shaken wheeze than a nervous laugh. "Almost too late."

"I only had the one shot. I couldn't afford to miss," Norik replies. "He's got our brothers. Gaaki, go find–"

"I'm not leaving you alone with him," she retorts. "I only went for a moment before, and look what would have happened if I hadn't returned."

Vakama tilts his head as well as the energy net will allow. He grins at the Rahaga, anger curdling it into a sneer. "Yes, Gaaki, you're very good bait, congratulations." He shifts his gaze to Norik. "But you've always been so good at getting others to do your dirty work, haven't you, Norik?"

Norik doesn't even have the decency of guilt. Instead, he simply looks tired. "Whatever you think you know–"

"I know the truth! You don't care about the Matoran, you only care about yourselves!" He strains against the ropes, and although they do not break, there's a little more give in them than before. He slumps back to the ground, breathing hard. "You might have the other Toa fooled. You might even have the temple fooled, but not me," he growls, and the temple's hatred presses down on him, straining his last words.

Gaaki places a frail hand on her brother's arm. "Norik," she says, and there is such unbearable sorrow in her voice. "He looks in pain."

"It's not my doing," Norik assures her softly. "My snare spinner only binds."

Vakama snarls. "I don't need pity from the likes of you. I know what you are."

"We're allies, Vakama," Norik says, in that insufferably reasonable way of his. "Friends."

"You're frauds," Vakama snaps. He twists against his restraints. They slacken, just a touch. "Liars. You don't deserve to walk these floors."

And the Rahaga stand there, unburdened by the temple's hate, strangers to this land, to Metru Nui, and yet it is Vakama the temple repulses? After everything he has forgone, the life he's abandoned, the friendships he's lost, Mata Nui punishes him?

His rhotuka fires off a fire spinner, and it goes wide, cracks a wall. Norik and Gaaki stumble back, Norik preparing another snare shot, but the energy net holding Vakama snaps. Vakama lurches forward, suddenly free, and slams into Norik.

The snare spinner wraps itself around a column. It lights up the room with crackling energy.

A blast of water grazes past his shoulder, too shy of hitting Norik to commit to taking the easy shot, and Vakama reels towards Gaaki. He fires with a snarl, but hears the snare spinner coming again and ducks at the last moment.

Again his own attack misses and the shot cleaves clean through a wall. Something on the other side begins to smoulder.

Then it begins to rumble.

It's a low sound at first, as deep as the earth and just as vast. Almost like a distant growl. But then the cracks begin to spiral out across the roof, along the columns, and the room buckles.

The light flickers. The frames of the high windows above collapse.

The world becomes fragmented, filled with flickering images. Falling masonry and toppling pillars and dust – but the sounds never relent. Even in the depths of the passing darkness, the thunder continues.

And when the dust settles, so does an awful silence.

Vakama straightens, or does his best approximation of it. Fragments of cracked protodermis fall from his shoulders, his head, his back. He withdraws the hand which has somehow found itself raised above Gaaki, knocking aside the stone slab caught against his arm.

Where's Norik?

Both Hordika and Rahaga stand side by side, that quietness disturbed only by the skittering of stone shards settling. There is wrongness in his breath, his head, and it's impossible to separate where the temple's ends and his begins. But any moment now, Norik will reappear from the wreckage, bearing that ever-same holier-than-thou look, and the anger will rise anew in Vakama.

Any.

Moment.

Now.

"You've killed him," Gaaki says, and her voice breaks that terrible stillness. She draws in a half-breath that cracks into a sob. "You've... oh, Norik..."

No.

No, it was an accident. He hadn't meant to– Norik had simply been in the wrong place. It wasn't as if he'd taken a blazer claw to Norik, or hit him directly with a fire spinner. He'd only meant to... what? What had he only meant to do?

Something swings towards him and he grabs the staff before he even registers what it is.

"He's not dead," Vakama says, and maybe if he says it, he might even believe it. He snaps his gaze to Gaaki, as if her grief is bringing it to pass. "He's not. He's not as easy to kill as that. When the others– when the Toa find him, he'll be fine. Fools like him always find a way to survive."

Gaaki attempts to pull her staff free, but her strength is no match for Vakama's. He wretches it out of her grasp and tosses it aside.

"Stop that."

She doesn't listen to him, only steps back and charges up her rhotuka. The grief in her eyes fogs into hatred.

The water spinner hits him but does little more than rock him.

"Stop."

Gaaki screams, a sound of rage and anguish, and releases a volley of spinners as ineffectual as the first.

Vakama's patience – or whatever had held him in place until now – snaps. He lunges forward. His claws close around the joints of Gaaki's rhotuka and pins the mechanisms harmlessly into place, in the same manner one might pick up a baby ussal crab by the widest edge of its shell. She thrashes, but Vakama's grip holds.

"I said, stop," he snarls.

She's breathing hard, her gasps sharp-edged with agony. "You killed him," she says, voice hoarse and hateful.

His insides twist, and – Gaaki hauled by his side – he starts the ascent to where the rest of the Rahaga are trapped. He doesn't look back to the rubble. Doesn't glance for one last glimpse of Norik's resting place.

He's not dead. He's not dead he's not dead he's not

The wrongness, the hatred, has woven so deep into him, it's almost a part of him now.

Toa don't kill. Vakama can't remember who taught him that (he recalls, briefly, the flash of a gold mask, but it comes with pain – grief – and he pushes it aside before it can take root) but it gnaws at him like a trapped stone rat. Toa don't kill.

But he was never meant to be one.

And if the Great Temple – if Mata Nui – thinks a mistake was made in Vakama's destiny....

Well. That's somebody else's problem.

The Hordika that returns to Roodaka is different from the one she sent out. There's something new in his eyes... or perhaps something lost.

"How was the temple, Vakama?" she asks when it's just the two of them.

He looks to her. Beneath the anger, beneath the rahi, there's almost a haunted look to those eyes. It vanishes a moment later, but Roodaka never doubts her own eyes.

"Unwelcoming," he replies, and Roodaka smiles. She could have suggested Vakama pick the Rahaga off one by one in the chaos of Metru Nui, outside where her Visorak could have been an aid... but the temple had been too good an opportunity to miss.

"Good." She sets a hand on his shoulder. "You owe no loyalty to Mata Nui, Vakama. Not anymore."

He rolls his shoulder, but not sharp enough to dislodge Roodaka's hand.

"One thing I do not understand," she says. "What happened to the sixth Rahaga?"

The Toa growls. It is a gutteral sound, rooted deep in the chest and at home in a way it wasn't before. "You wanted a message left for the other Toa. I needed a messenger."

"Alive?"

Vakama shrugs his shoulder again, and this time she lets him roll her hand loose. "Does it matter, so long as they understand?" he growls.

No, Roodaka concedes as she surveys the remains of the Toa before her. She supposes not.