#tattered weave headcanon

[trippygalaxy]

I've a SRxReader request:Reader is hurt in the leg in a dark cave.what about a group scenario where needs help?? Wild, twilight,time and sky are enough for me!! Thx!!

YES YES YES YES ABSOLUTELY!! OKAY-- so i do only do 3 characters for group headcanons so I'll leave Wild out of this one!

Reader beginning, boys under the cut!!

OKAY SO— im just posting Twilight’s part because i want this OUT of my drafts and ill work on Sky’s and Time’s part separately but ill link them here once i do actually do them!!

Relationships: Twilight x gn!reader (romantic) Warnings: Blood, mention of wounds/blood lost, Swearing

You didn't know when you got separated from the group, too busy running on survival instincts with adrenalin pounding in your ear as you desperately tried to escape the onslaught of attacks. You'd be lying if you said you weren't scared shitless.

It wasn't suppose to go like this! It was just suppose to be some stupid fetch quest for some stupid...stupid...STUPID SOMETHING! You can't be bothered to remember what you and Link were commanded to collect, not when the sound of howling beasts and snarling monsters bounced off the forests trees so closely.

Oh you were SO gonna punch that merchant if you made it back alive!

Arrows and spears whizzed past you as you fled, pulling at your already tattered cloak, weaving between trees --just like Wild taught you-- as your lungs screamed for air, screamed for a moment's of rest.

A moment you didn't have.

Lessons can only prepare you for so much until you're left to survive on your own. But damn you wished you had Wild-- or even Twilight yelling some complicated instructions in your ear! At least then you'd have the comfort of know someone was there. Someone who-

Maybe it was the blood pound in your ears or your panicked thoughts that drowned out the whistling of a flying arrow.

Before you knew it a sharp pain pierces through your thigh, shooting agony down to your heel and up to your hip. A scream rips itself from your throat as you stumble, pain locking your leg and causing you to fall to the hard forest floor.

'Please make sure you protect your head whenever you fall!' Sky's scolding echoes in your head, his worried tone as clearly as his name sake on a sunny summer day. 'Even if it's just a small trip, you could still hit your head off something hard and end up really hurt.'

Throwing your arms over your head, you brace with gritted teeth as the wind is knocked from your chest. Your shoulder burns from slamming into a jagged root, no doubly bleeding if the warmth dripping down your arm told you anything.

"Shit!" You hiss, wincing as you struggled to your feet once more. The yelp of pain was held back by your bitten lip as your leg suddenly began to burn. "What the..."

You had but a moment to find the -rusted- arrow lodge in your thigh before a horrid screeched rips through the air. They sounded a lot closer than you originally thought. Shit. Shit shit shit!

Your hand hovered over the bloodied arrow before a certain, stern voice bounces through your already light headed skull.

'Do not touch that.' Time gritted out, his stare so cold it almost rivaled the burning in your thigh. 'Leave it in. Only take it out when you have the PROPER medical supplies. Understood?'

Your hand falls to the side, steading itself against the tree you propped yourself up against. Understood, you grump. With a grunt you quickly limped your way from your bloodied fall. No doubly those monsters could sniff you out in a moment's notice, you had to get as far away as you could-- somewhere far and...and...Fuck-- Maybe you did hit your head off of something.

It didn't matter -it totally does- you had to find somewhere to hide and hunker down until the monsters stopped looking. Being out in the open won't help, too much area to watch. You needed...You needed a cave. Somewhere the others would be able to find you and where you didn't have to worry about something coming up behind you.

--

You felt yourself growing weaker with every step, it was torture as that stupid arrow jumped and jolted with every limping step. It sucked. A LOT. But it sucked a little less as a mouth of a cave came into view. It's inky darkness would of had your stomach knotting and head filled with worries, but with pain being the only thing you can focus on you didn't mind the idea of being alone in the void for some time.

The cooler air hit you as you walked past the cave's threshold. It was a soothing cool, not one that had you shivering or nose sniffling.

You slide down the uneven, rough stone walls until you roughly met the floor with a quiet hiss. The small thud and sound of pain gently echoes off the empty walls, as if they were taunting you and your weakened state. You were tempted to tell the echo to piss off, you've had enough echoes for one day..

Time passed. You didn't know how much or how little, but if your ever burning wound told you anything you'd think it was passing all too slow. You had tried to remove the rusted arrow tip, but you couldn't even brush the shaft of the arrow without tears swelling in your eyes. You take it back, this sucks so much more than walking.

You wondered where everyone was...If he was okay. I mean-- he was technically a spirit but you knew that they all weren't exactly unkillable. Which is kinda messed up now that you thought about it--

An echo of your name brings your thoughts back for a brief moment. What did you just say about the echoes? You literally just said--

"Where are you?! Please, just-- Tell me where you are!" His voice...It felt so voice, so worried and...real. But you weren't going to let some stupid echo get the better of you.

"Fuck off! You fucking...echo."

Twilight

Whilst he desperately searched the eerily quiet forest, he had heard your scream echo throughout the forest from what felt like an eternity ago. And eternity spent racing through the thick trees in his wolfish form, his nose nearly digging itself into the ground as he clings to your scent.

You had ran off sometime during the ambush by the rocky side, which he wasn't surprised by-- not that he shaming you for it! It was a dangerous terrain to fight on and he was well aware that you were MUCH newer to this whole adventuring thing. And he would be lying to himself if he said he hadn't felt a wave of relief when he saw your retreating form. He was foolish to think those beasts wouldn't go after you. Or maybe he was just a little hopeful. Hopeful you'd be alright.

That hope was quickly wrenched from his gut when he found a patchy blood trail that reeked of your smell.

The simple smell startled him from his wolfish form, his booted feet digging into the raw earth beneath him as he rapidly followed the scattered trail of blood. The only thing faster than himself in that moment was his racing thoughts. His mind was filled with worries and prayers for your safety, the image of your crumpled, bleeding form had tears prickling at the corner of his eyes as he tried to catch the breath he didn't need.

But it wasn't easily tracking a scattered blood trail with blurred eyes. Fear bubbled up his throat at the sudden lost of your blood, it felt like a wolf's claws tearing up his throat as he was suddenly spinning, whipping his head around in a desperate attempt to find it. But he couldn't. He couldn't find it. And he couldn't find you.

"Where are you?! Please, just-- Tell me where you are!" Twilight choked out, a rasp that hurt his throat more than the fear.

"Darling...please." A quiet plead. A plead for a response, for a hint of your existence, a grief and guilt ridden sound that made his voice sound so foreign. So foreign that it felt like an echo distorted by the cave walls.

....

"Fuck off! You fucking...echo."

Twilight nearly tripped over his own feet as his spinning came to a sudden halt at the sound of your voice. A crackly, dry voice that sent shivers down his spine, but your voice nonetheless. Immediately the man dug his boots into the dirt and darted to the area he heard your strained voice. His heart broke a little at the strain in your voice, like such a couple of words had taken so much energy to push out.

Darting between trees and over turned rocks, a darken cave caught the man's attention and a wave of relief and pride wash over him. Goddesses you were smart, finding shelter to keep yourself hidden and having it be a landmark for your travels? The man couldn't help the fond smile pull at his flush cheeks as he picked up his pace, a new vigor in his heavying -but naturally breathless- chest.

Coming to a skidding stop, Twilight dug his heels into the dirt once more as he stops infront of the mouth of the cave. Though he was desperate to see you, he didn't want to startle you especially when you're injured, so with careful and soft steps the man entered the dark cave with hopeful eyes.

"Darling?" Twilight whispers, "Please tell me you're in here..."

"I said fuck off--!" Your angered words are cut off by a scratchy cough, one bounces off the caverns walls but had the hero's head snapping towards you even with the disconnected sound surrounding him. "...You echo...J-just leave me alone...I don't need my last moments to be made fun of..."

Twilight simply stared, his eyes burning with tears and rage as he glared at the arrow embedded into your skin. Your blood caked around the wound and stained your clothes, making a mess out of a beauty. He was angry, angry at the beasts that dared to chase you, angry at himself for not finding you sooner, angry at the fact that you were left alone to hurt..

"I'm not leaving, not unless you're leaving with me." The hero gritted out, trying to sooth his own raging guilts as he made his way to your side. "You're stuck with me, darling."

Too distracted by his worries for your injuries as he assesses the wound and arrow, Twilight doesn't notice your rapidly blinking or reddening eyes as you watched his spirit form settle by your side. But he does notice your flinch at his touch as his finger gently grazed along your hand, in hopes of comforting you. Concerned eyes dart to yours but the concern soon melts into a sadden look as Twilight noticed your teary but relieved eyes.

"You're..." You shakily breathed with a wavering hand reaching towards his cheek, staring at him with wide eyes, as if blinking once would make him disappearing.

Twilight's hands cup yours, bringing your shaking hand to his cold cheek before he nuzzles into your warmth. It wasn't often the spirit felt warmth like yours, but his guilty mind couldn't allow him to cherish it like he normally would. But he didn't care for his mind in this moment as he heart called for your warmth, even if it was just for a moment.

"I'm real, Darling. And I'm bringing you back, alive." Twilight whispered into your skin, staring back at your tear filled eyes with a determination unlike anything you've seen before.

Twilight was totally going to hit that merchant before you could.

Taglist: @the-cucco-nuggie @baileyboo2016 @birb-boy-official @yourlocaltreesimp @zelda-the-sacred-realm

#zeldathesacredrealm #sacred realm #the sacred realm #sacred realm x reader #sr twilight #sr twilight x reader #reader insert #sr sky #sr time #hero of twilight #you can tell this is old cause it has the old banner LMAO #sorry for any spelling errors #stories from stardust

[twothpaste]

Hiiii Clark I don’t know if you do or if you’re still taking these but I’d be interested to hear any thoughts or hcs you had about Leder :0

oh man, oh man. being asked about leder by the guy who did The Best (Only?) Written Leder Ever??? half the stuff sloshing around in my brain about this guy was written by you!! i'll bow my head gently and share what i've got, though.

i first played mother 3 a decade ago. to this day, The Leder Scene still gives me chills. i know some players aren't fond of the way the game delivers its big exposition dump, and i can't blame 'em one bit. but for me personally, it's an ethereal moment in time. something about the way the scene is set, the music, the red lighting, how solemn and straightforward it is. the way you first see leder's chained up legs, before climbing upstairs to hear him speak for the first time, and weave the whole story back together. lucas hearing it from a quiet old friend, of all people. the way he pauses every few lines to to ask if lucas understands, and kiddo has to politely nod along like "yep, y'can keep going," as leder painstakingly re-arranges his entire reality. the dawning sense of pity for this humble unsung martyr, and his broken community, and the world at large. agh. there's just nothing quite like it.

my favorite detail, one i latch onto, is that he's surrounded by books. on a literal level, i figure, aw, at least he had somethin' to read, all that time he spent locked up. symbolically, though? they must represent history, yeah? the one and only guy who remembers, imprisoned with volumes of forbidden knowledge. were these his own books? brought from the old world, and secretly stashed away somewhere? were they brought from different eras through porky's phase distorter? i feel like the former's more sentimental, but either works. got a postgame headcanon that leder founds a library in tazmily. books become a precious commodity in the postgame world. not a lot of written word remains from back before everything went to hell. they take whatever they can find and salvage, be it history or science textbooks or novels or picture books. their community'd be wise to cherish, preserve, and share this stuff, instead of locking it away. the idea of a valuable lesson learned. leder naturally being the one to foster a space where history can finally breathe.

i like to think he and lucas could become close friends. kid lucas would've always taken the time to greet leder, and leder would've always answered with a smile. postgame, my lucas develops a fervent interest in history, and stories about his community. i think he'd ache for that context. kid's got a sense of duty, too, not to repeat the same mistakes. leder'd be relieved to finally get everything off his chest. and, seeing the egg as a fatal mis-step, he'd be eager to amend tazmily's greatest mistake. giving future generations the opportunity to learn from their past. besides, leder n' lucas are both mild-mannered folks with a lot on their minds. i imagine the two of 'em could spend hours talking, or listening. maybe share some green tea. lucas goes exploring in the ruins of the world, and brings back tattered volumes for leder's library. they talk about novels they've read, and the good ol' days (with bittersweet retrospect), and hinawa.

on account of his absurd height, leder's probably got some sort of fantastical bone condition that makes it difficult to travel or get around much. on account of his age and world-weariness, maybe he's just fine with that. i imagine he's got a quiet, brittle, crackly voice, and you kinda have to listen extra close to make out every word. some of his neighbors are sheepish to get to know him again. but once their memories start returning, they recall him as a near n' dear pillar of their apocalyptic escapades. they eventually come bearing apologies, somber gratitude, and fond recollections. your premise of leder working as a sort of guidance counselor for recovering amnesiacs is brilliant - and the thought of him bearing that burden alone makes my heart ache. that he'd give himself up for so long, on behalf of everyone else, then go right ahead and selflessly do it all over again?? it's so heavy, but so real. i can definitely picture him falling back into old resolute habits, forgetting he's a deeply wounded person who needs time and care to recover too. maybe his fellow steadfast souls, like lucas' family, duster, my favorite guy bronson perhaps, could eventually lend him some shoulders to lean on.

#ask tag #this got longer than expected but since it's leder we're talkin' about i think that's only fitting

[talesofmetalandmagic]

Azir and Taliyah – sparse recovery headcanons

Only until he’s recovered, she’d told Nasus. That’s more than he deserves from me or any weaver. And the moment he attempts anything nasty on us… I’m out.

Taliyah has every reason to loathe Azir, and only chose to become part of his retinue for kindness towards Nasus and Sivir, who do genuinely care (Sivir hides it better, but hey, he still saved her life), and because she finds torture appalling regardless of who’s on the receiving end of it.

Still, even she couldn’t possibly imagine how bad it’d get. The stitch signs on his eyelids, the tattered and ragged feathers, the emaciated skinniness, the curved posture with the bowed head, the twitchy eyes and the shaky hands are just the first details she notices. He doesn’t even look like a hawk.

After it’s become clear that Azir has been completely and utterly humbled, and a lot of his old habits are of the past, she, clever girl she is, takes the chance to not only help a poor penniless old man in need – which Azir is – by giving him a new purpose, but turn a powerful asset towards the downtrodden and to a good cause.

Nasus tries to bring Azir back to new by bringing back old habits, which Azir can hardly stomach now that Xerath has tainted them. Certain smells and food – most notably milk and honey – the feel of heavy crowds, heavy jewelry… all stuff he loved, but he now sees as pain. So it’s Taliyah who shows him new ways to have fun and new things to try.

She teaches him new recipes that don’t involve milk and honey, tells him stories of the modern world he wasn’t alive to see, and shows him natural remedies the court would not allow.

Sometimes he watches her weave and admires her handiwork like a relaxing light show.

One night she catches him in a nice mood and makes a stone caricature of him – a chicken in a fancy helm. He gets angry, showing some of his old colors… but then it quiets down and he sits back, eyes low and absent. She realizes she pushed some trigger button on him and gives him the nicest apology she can manage.

“So this way of mocking people is just how… you talk to friends?” “Yes, my lord. If it pleases you to be called a friend of mine” “I don’t know what pleases me anymore. But I appreciate your apology, and I apologize myself for this displeasurable conduct.” Because yes, being triggered after more than a year of torture is very displeasurable mr. birb man, and not at all a sign that you need comfort and help and therapy

As you’d imagine, one of Taliyah’s first lessons is “throw that etiquette out the window and learn to have fun”. The second is “mental health is good actually, crying and needing help aren’t signs of weakness and people will be there for you.”

Azir is genuinely surprised Taliyah’s parents didn’t cane her. She on the other hand is appalled to find out Azir’s parents did. “No my lord that’s not discipline you’ve been abused!”

Sometimes he rests his head on her lap and lets her pet his feathers. They’re slowly growing back in shape, “so soft they’ll come from the provinces to stroke them”. It’s one of the few gestures from yore Xerath didn’t taint, and Azir associates it with his late children.

He loves talking to her about his family, the kids he had and how much every day it pains him to never see them again. That’s something Taliyah knows even she can’t heal. She just lets him vent and even get emotional. Sometimes just having a young person around helps soothe the pain.

“Pain is always legitimate. Don’t let your heart harden, my lord. Keep it soft… but firm, like these stones.”

Taliyah remembers her days at Noxus before Yasuo. She remembers the fear, the blood, the cruelty. That’s why the blossoms of love within Azir give her hope, and not just to prove she’s beyond that mindset: he can’t be all bad. She’s seen monsters, elsewhere. People too can be molded, can’t they?

And so she tells him about the cruelty of Noxus and Yasuo’s kindness and pain. It helps Azir feel less alone in the whole “they tortured me” thing and sparks some empathy.

Other times they stargaze. He loved doing it with Xer… with that one as a kid. She represents a second chance, and damn heck he’ll take it.

“I know I should move on, sweet girl, but where would I go?” “Shurima is big, my lord. There’s always room for one more.”

#league of legends #lol #azir #azir’s new groove #omah azir #emperor azir #xerath #Nasus #taliyah #she’s so sweet and she will give Azir the hugs he needs #she doesn’t see the emperor she just sees a man in need

[loz-tearsofahomo]

Unraveling & their tragedies (Marauders)

Loosely based off of ATYD and my sad headcanons

I once loved a tailor who took eager care of me,

Sewed together my loose ends with stitches neat and clean,

But now my love is gone,

And I am left unraveling,

Unraveling,

Sirius Black has always relied on Remus, they were always repairing each other, mis-stitches were inevitable but with time the cloth always ended up stronger. Remus weaved Sirius' life securely, no longer frayed and tattered. At least that was the case until 1981 when Sirius' was held on trial for the murder of 12 muggles and Peter Pettigrew. Remus didn't know the truth and was torn from the inside by betrayal, the ministry held all the supposed evidence and motives. Sirius was unable to contact Remus in azkaban, never got to explain what really occured. He still loved Sirius, but couldn't dwell on him. Sirius without Remus by his side, untended tatters begun 'unraveling' him again until he was as possessed with rage and sorrow as everyone claimed he was. He never left prison and was never in a sane state again. Sirius' love (Remus) was gone. Remus won't ever come back. They'll always love eachother but will never meet. "But now 'my love' is gone"

I once loved a gardener with his dirt-smudged face and hands,

Trimmed my weeds and gave me room to grow my flowers again,

But now my love is gone,

And I am left here withering,

Withering,

Grant fell in love with Remus Lupin in 1975. Grant helped Remus sprout new flowers, beautiful ones true to who he was, ones Grant loved to gaze at. Remus was so beautiful when left to flourish. Unfortunately Remus couldn't stay in contact with him. And with distance Remus' fondness of him faded, as well as his flowers. Grant, was left. Alone. Remus started his new life with Sirius, Grant was now unable to hold Remus' love and admiration for long. And they continued life as strangers, pondering what could have been. And if they so pass eachother on the street none will be acknowledged. Grant fell in love in 1975 and Remus fell out of it in 1976. Maybe they weren't meant to last. Remus wasn't around long anyway. "But now my 'love' is gone" Flowers will never smell as good again, withering in their beds.

I once loved a carpenter who carved a smile for me,

Sanded my rough edges, crafted new and lovely things,

But now my love is gone,

And I can't help the fracturing,

Regulus was always been pointed and sharp. His family's environment molded him as such. Most would bleed from his splintered fringes, but James would hold him regardless. And as time together passed Regulus mellowed, letting his sun (James) sand his edges, letting joy into his life. James dug and somehow propagated a loving and kind centre amongst the thorns. He really did "Craft new and lovely things" But lovely things never last forever do they? On the 31st of October 1981 James was found murdered in his home. And just like that everything was shattered, his sanded edges split and everything fell apart. Regulus never got over his greif, couldn't fathom letting anyone into his life again. "And now my love is 'gone' " Regulus' one love will never come back to life, and neither will his carved smile.

I never knew that I needed you,

I once loved a man who kissed me once before he left,

Tied me up in knots and said he'd soon return again,

But now my love is gone,

All absent in various ways.

And I am left unraveling,

But unraveling all the same.

Unraveling,

Unraveling,

Unraveling.

#atyd #the mauraders #marauders era #jegulus #wolfstar #starchaser #grant chapman #song analysis #hp #remus lupin #sirius black #james potter #regulus black #made this for funsies #:) #Spotify #remus lost 'my love' aka sirius #grant lost his 'love' aka his care for remus #regulus' love is 'gone' meaning james is dead #hehehe

[espionisms]

🧵emine , 👕 rashmi, 🥶alistair, 🗺 karolina

🧵 — the thread of life! for a headcanon about my muse's feelings on fate, destiny, and whether or not they believe they have a path laid out before them in life.

when it comes to fate and superstitions, emine believes in them. she is convinced her path has been laid out before her, although she's not sure of the purpose of some sights along the way. especially those losses she's sustained, which have turned her bitter; if they were all in the tapestry's weaving, then why is it still painful to look at?

👕 — the old blue tee! a headcanon about a comfortable, or comforting, piece of clothing my muse wears.

for her thirtieth birthday, rashmi received a joint gift from her wives: a new kashmir shawl to replace her tattered, worn one. it was a symbol of their joint power as much as it is a beloved gift, as kashmir shawls are most usually part of men's garderobe. when she is not dressed in formal garb, this shawl is always on her person. it is done in brilliant scarlets and golds, woven from pashmina wool, embroidered with lion's faces and sun emblems, symbols of the mughal empire.

🥶 — i'm shivering! for a headcanon about my muse and their temperature / weather preference; have they ever travelled somewhere very cold? how was it?

the weather adjustment was one of the hardest things for alistair. he was pleasantly surprised to see that germany shares a similar climate to his homeland, but there were some distinct differences. the snowy times had him shivering and falling ill more than he'd like to admit. it led to adjustments in his armour, with removable woolen undergarments being sewn for him to layer. perhaps it was less the actual cold and more the hundreds of pounds of steel against his skin. it's the same with the humidity in the summer. he's adjusted better now, although the hotter days still have him very desperately wishing he could guard in his tunic.

🗺 — off the edge of the map!      a headcanon about my muse and travel; where have they been and where they dream of going.

for travelling, karolina has been to turkey, sweden, scotland, china, and india ( currently. ) they dream of visiting russia, very highly romanticising the countryside and what have you, wanting to see the visage of the siberian mountains. but they are also fairly content to try and see where zehra and joanna go first, and experience those places alongside them. in their opinion, it's better to travel with people you can at least somewhat enjoy it with. and they dream very much of someone whisking them off on some grand honeymoon all over.

#answered . #emine bulut : ask memes . #alistair wolff : ask memes . #rashmi sharma thimmana : ask memes . #karolina mackenzie : ask memes .

[unusualneons]

Fray ⇨ art by Tattered Weave team, flags: x , x , x , x

do not use these icons if you fit anything on the banner & no claiming them as your own

#mogai icons #mogai icon #icon set #icons #pride #mogai #promogai #tattered weave #fray #fray tattered weave #tattered weave hc #headcanon #tattered weave headcanon #pride headcanon #slushgender #wispvir #gay #soft goth gay #regregender #adorable posts

[distantlyexisting]

TAG DUMP

#ooc;none-existence #queue;abyss’s echoes #aesthetic;visual voids #music;summoning calls #quote;memorable incantation #headcanon;weaved progression #prose;moving words #poetry;tattered verses #meme;ciphered key #meme reply;deciphered key #permanent meme;linguistic paradox #mun speaks;mountain sounds #self promo;satellite signals #promo;incoming transmissions

[sleepingdeath-light]

reading the crossover headcanons for TOH was amazing!

i wanted to request a crossover with TOH and Steven Universe if possible! (also with Hunter x Reader) You can decide between reader being half-gem, like Steven, or fully gem! If you can't or don't want to, that's okay! Aand I really love your headcanons! You make them long and detailed! It's truly amazing.

Crossover Headcanons | SU x TOH [Hunter x Gem//Hybrid!Reader]

thank you for requesting, anon

These are written with a gender neutral reader in mind and have a general chronology from the reader’s last moments in little homeworld until they end up with Hunter, so apologies if this gets long!

Note : this is the first time I’ve written for the SU canon, so I’m not as experienced with that universe. Also my portrayal of these characters is still pretty rocky, so I may rework this in the future.

The first few months you spent in Little Homeworld had felt almost like a dream come to life; freedom to be yourself and explore a world full of organic life without the restrictions placed on you by the diamonds? It was fantastic! However, that feeling of unrestricted feeling soon started to grow stale as you realise that the growth of the small colony had already started to stagnate—and that not all humans were welcoming of intergalactic immigrants like your kind.

So to ease your mind you opted to take the warp to the next star system over—craving that same sense of excitement that you had during the gem war

Simply standing on the warp again was enough to get your blood pumping with a reignited vigour for exploration

A feeling so palpable that you failed to notice the array of spindly cracks that spanned the surface of the device, and the way that a sickly dull light pulsated beneath your feet (the sight accompanied by a warning hum far too low for you to notice)

Though you couldn’t ignore the way the warp didn’t immediately go off like usual, nor could you neglect the searing pain that spread through your veins and constricted your throat; leaving you in so much pain that you couldn’t even move or scream before your vision was engulfed in a glitching, sickeningly bright light

It must have been several hours later when you woke up, based on how high the sun was in the sky… was the sky that red before?

Your head was pounding and although your vision was blurry, yet you couldn’t ignore how different your surroundings were from the earth you were used to

The sky was a faint red and the ground beneath your feet was dusted with deep maroon grass—it was soft and warm under your fingertips but with how much organic matter there was you knew that this wasn’t a colony

Hell, you didn’t even arrive on a warp on this end, so either you had been transported to somewhere else because a malfunction (unusual, but likely) or someone had taken you from the receiving warp and dropped you off in the middle of a clearing (far less likely)

Suddenly struck with worry, you sat up and moved your clothes to get a good look at your gem, letting out a relieved sigh when you saw it undamaged (clearly you’d landed where you woke up as most organics would have tried to remove it from your body before dumping you)

Realising that you were mostly safe you slowly rose to your feet and decided to explore your new environment, hand hovering near your gem in case you needed to defend yourself from whatever creatures had made their home here—trying to make yourself appear as small, quiet and unnoticeable as possible as you went

However, your efforts seemed to be in vein as you were quickly greeted by an excitable and loud human girl who practically screamed her welcome to you

You were torn between fleeing and fighting her when she offered her hand and introduced herself as “Luz the human”, her demeanour quite closely mirroring what you’d heard about Steven when he was younger from his mothers—it was almost endearing how much she tried to hold in her joy at seeing another “human”. You almost didn’t have the heart to tell her the truth as she walked you back to her home.

You were accosted at the door by an organic tube with an owl’s face that quickly and gleefully introduced itself as Hooty—the creepy, but rather friendly, house demon

Luz made an effort to hastily brush him off and hurry you both inside where you met with the other two inhabitants of the home as well as Luz’s “awesome girlfriend”, Amity.

Eda, an older witch with grey hair that hardly suited her age, greeted you with muted suspicion, not even taking her eyes off of you as she addressed the human at your side—seemingly unsure of your motives but trusting herself to be stronger than you (if her grip on her staff was anything to go by)

King, however, was much more brazen and blatant in his distrust of you, stomping over and pointing an accusing claw up at you as he threatened you in every way he could muster (even if all that got him was a halfhearted coo from you that left the creature more frustrated and downtrodden than before)

The guest, Amity, meanwhile, looked over at you with disinterest before she caught a glimpse of your (colour) gem peeking out from your clothing—immediately pointing it out and questioning you about it, much to your chagrin

This inevitably led to a very long and semi-complicated conversation discussing the intricacies of your species and how, no, you’re technically not a human

No you weren’t trying to deceive Luz, either, you just felt too awkward to correct her

But when all was said and done (and you were all out of steam after a several hour session of intense questioning and frustration at miscommunications) they seemed much more relaxed around you—even willing to let you stay with them, at Luz’s request, so long as you pulled your weight around the house and helped to keep them safe

And, really, how hard could that be? You fought in an intergalactic war so taking out a few organics should be a piece of cake (as Steven would say)

After spending a few weeks in this strange new world you had come to realise one specific thing; it wasn’t easy. It was, in fact, the exact opposite.

If you had to bubble one more guard you were going to scream

What had they done to make this Emperor hate them so much?

It felt as though half of your time was spent bubbling, blocking or disabling people that had made their way to the Owl House—and the rest was spent painstakingly explaining your abilities and species to Amity, Lilith and Luz

Granted, that wasn’t the most stressful part of your stay

No

That was hands down the stresses that came with visits from Luz’s friends from Hexside: the endlessly kind and protective Willow and the ever-curious and annoyingly quick witted Gus

That being said, you did appreciate their enthusiasm to learn about and accommodate you—even if the look Willow gave you when you spoke about the empire’s treatment of organic life did leave you rather shaken

So what little free time you had was spent learning about the local culture and sharing your experiences with them

Training with Amity and Eda

Helping Willow with her plants in whatever way you can based on your gem

Creating gem clones to help Gus perfect his illusions even further

Teaching Lilith and Luz about your abilities as well as those of your fellow gems, even helping the latter learn to write using gem glyphs

It was heartwarming to see others so passionate about your home, even if their insistence on pushing you to your limits could be rather frustrating (especially early in the mornings when your patience ran thin)

However, the longer you spent there the more members of the Emperor’s Coven (amongst others) you ended up coming across. One particularly memorable instance occurred when you were escorting a fretting Amity through Bonesborough with the twins (who’s presence you had grown rather fond of as their visits became more frequent).

Ed had dragged Em back to the library a good few minutes ago, leaving you and Amity to your own decides as you weaved in and out of the foot traffic—only to stop completely when the youngest Blight suddenly froze before grabbing your hand and darting off to an adjacent alleyway

As you went to protest, she promptly clamped one hand over your mouth and gestured rather violently for you to stay quiet before nodding towards a figure just a bit away from you

From the golden mask and white cloak you knew they were a member of the Emperor’s Coven—but you’d seen them before, on the posters littered around the city, each exploring passersby to join their coven

Golden Guard

That was a definite threat

So you passed the girl a spare cloak and did what you could to mask your own appearance before carefully making your way back home, shopping be damned—one hand over your gem just in case he happened to notice you

Though thankfully he didn’t

Not that it stopped you from filing him away as someone to be wary of anyway; he was the emperor’s right hand man, after all, so there was no such thing as being “too cautious”

And for a while that’s exactly what it was, not that you saw much of him that is, but from what you’d been told about Luz and Amity’s run ins with him you were glad to have never seen him face-to-face. If you had, you were almost certain he wouldn’t come out unscathed—teenage protege or not.

So with all that in mind, the last that you were expecting to see on a relatively peaceful Saturday evening was the unmasked Golden Guard practically unconscious and leaning on Luz and Eda for support as they burst through the door

Completely ignoring Hooty as usual as they carefully laid him down on the seat beside you (after you’d hurriedly gotten up, that is)

He looked to be in an awful state, with his visible skin bloodied, bruised and scarred whilst his usually pristine uniform was tattered and caked in dirt and what seemed to be even more of his blood

Seeming to notice your distress, Eda briefly addressed you and her sister before sending you all off to gather supplies (or heal if your gem allowed it)

“The kid’s been through a lot, but he’s with us now. Trust me, I wouldn’t have carried him all this way if I had any doubts about it.”

And that was that

It took Hunter (as he introduced himself) over a week to even be able to get out of bed and walk around unassisted—and whilst he actively avoided speaking about what had happened to him, you had a feeling that Belos was somehow involved

Though things were still rather tense for a month or so after he arrived, no matter how hard Luz tried to integrate him (and no matter how polite and welcoming Willow and Gus tried to be)

And you didn’t even want to recall the shouting match that occurred when Amity saw him in the living room with Luz….

It seemed as though he was just more content to shut himself away with L’il Rascal and only interact with Luz and Eda; the former to learn from her and the latter because she wouldn’t let him get away with anything but

That wasn’t even mentioning the palpable tension between him and Lilith (she would only say that it was from their time in the coven—and Luz suspected he’d annoyed her a bit too much—but nothing else would come of it)

But the others were worried about him, so you were sent in as a neutral party to talk with him about… things. You weren’t really told what and you didn’t have the time to ask.

Initially he was incredibly closed off and would only address you briefly, barely even acknowledging your presence as he gave his full attention to the scattered papers on his desk, each depicting a different spell and each ever so slightly off

So, as gently as you could you took the quill from him and drew a simple glyph on a spare scalp of paper, carefully leading him through the motions before leaning back and activating the spell (and smiling at his much more openly interested expression)

That then sparked a deep conversation about different types of magic—specifically wild magic and glyphs—as you shared what you knew about the topic with one another, every so often breaking off into laughter or patient silence as he’d run across the room to show you his notes or books he’d found

Naturally this would lead to him asking you about where you came from and you discussing your origins with him

Homeworld

The Diamond Authority

The gem war

Colonies

Soldiers

Shattering

The Crystal Gems

Everything

He was incredibly easy to talk to as he listened with a genuine intensity to what you said, nodding along and even asking well thought out questions about your world where appropriate

Depending on how close you were, he may even ask to see your gem and ask about its purpose

If you let him touch it, he’d be so very gentle, almost treating you as though you were made of glass—maybe even sketching it down and noting down your abilities and weaknesses in his personal notebook and apologising if it was weird

This mutual interest in magic and your shared experiences of either having to conform to a specific role your whole life [full gem reader] or feeling out of place and weaker because of your shortcomings [half gem reader] would be the basis of your friendship turned relationship. The transition between the two would be so incredibly seamless and slow that you wouldn’t even notice it happening—one moment you two were best friends sparring and the next you were hiding your blushing face in his neck as he hugs you and apologises for hitting you a bit too hard with his magic.

Your relationship would be sweet and slow and genuine

Hunter is new to receiving any kind of affection, so you’d probably have to teach him a thing or two—but he’d learn quite quickly so don’t worry

He’d spend hours studying your culture and language just to write you notes or offer you affirmations in ways unique to your culture, even calling you “my (Y/n)” after a while

Likewise, the first time you called him “my Hunter” he was left red in the face for the rest of the day (he loved it, though, so don’t stop)

But the moment someone makes a teasing remark about how soft he’s gotten (usually one of the Blight siblings or his own younger sister figure, Luz), Hunter will partially revert to being cold in public (whilst still being affectionate and openly touch starved in private)

In short, your relationship with him would be built on a foundation of mutual trust, affection and understanding that sprouted from friendship and honest conversations about your passions and pasts

#reader insert #sleepingdeath hub #hcs #headcanons #steven universe #su #toh x su #the owl house #the owl house x reader #the owl house golden guard #the owl house hunter #toh #toh x reader #toh golden guard #toh hunter #hunter x reader #golden guard x reader

[shazzbaa]

AND ONE MORE!! Another small fancomic for Tattered Weave, that petsite/avatarsite I keep yelling about. this one im very certain makes no sense of out context but I’m still real happy with this art so I’m sharing it anyway!

There was a pretty big site event where Lenta (magical dryad) and Lycus (tatters-obsessed science grad student) started working together to combine magic and science to develop some new method to traverse the tattered weave, but in the meantime, a few of us users got distracted from this important science by the unrelated realisation that mushrooms don’t grow on healthy trees. THIS ISN’T CANON, PROBABLY, BUT IM UH, REAL INVESTED IN THIS THEORY NOW

#tattered weave #comic #dryad #art #shazz art #Fanart #seriously though I'm fully behind this headcanon now #TOO MUCH MATCHES UP #traditional inking

[heyitsjay03]

Headcanons about each of the lords (+the Duke if you're writing about him) if they ever happen to adopt a little child?

THANK YOU ANON MY THE UNIVERSE BLESS YOU WITH PILLOWS THAT ARE COLD ON BOTH SIDES

okay okay okay okay this has definitely been on my mind so lets get into the thick of it

Alcina Dimitrescu

(im starting off with alcina for obvious reasons)

Alcina would be on the way to the church with the slimy moron, the demented doll, that disgusting manthing and Mother Miranda

She'd kiss her daughters goodbye and head off through the snow, quietly muttering about how cold her ankles were

while Moreau is literally up to his chin in snow but its fine

as she gets closer to the church she keeps hearing this. thing. it sounded familiar but she couldn't exactly put her finger on it.

she strays from the path to find it because it was just so familiar

as she weaves her way through the snow, her dress gets caught on something. she leans down to get her dress unstuck when she realises its this tiny basket.

like seriously. just a little woven basket in the middle of the snow. and it doesn't look like its been there for that long- there's hardly any snow on it

when she tugs at her skirts again, the basket makes the same noise she's been hearing

she stands back up to her full height, staring down at the basket with narrowed eyes

this cannot be a good idea, can it? opening a strange basket in the woods after being lured out here. it's probably some village manthing's trap.

she's about to step away when she hears the sound again- much more intense and much more clear

Alcina leans down and opens the lid of the basket

inside is this tiny thing- all soft and warm in a padding of blankets

a baby

she stands and looks around

who on earth would be so moronic as to leave their baby in the snow? it's much too cold for a baby to survive-

oh

she sighs, getting onto her knees to pull the baby from the blanketed basket

the meeting will have to wait. it's too cold even in the church for this tiny thing.

when she finally makes it back home, she's greeted by her daughters in a swarm of buzzing flies.

as they manifest in their true forms, they're asking what- or who, rather- their mother brought for dinner

Alcina smiles and shakes her head, unwrapping the small bundle clinging to her breast

"this... is your new sibling" she announces, "they'll be staying with us from now on."

and the sisters are ecstatic. a new sibling!

Daniela especially is happy that she is no longer the youngest. she usually is the one to parade around the castle with her sibling on her shoulders, showing them the coolest hiding spots for hide-n-seek and the windows with the best views

Bela is incredibly protective. like. incredibly.

she smelt blood from across the castle and when she found her little sibling sniffling about a skinned knee earned from a game of tag with Angie, she lost her shit and almost broke the damned thing with her sickle

And Cassandra has been caught reading bedtime stories by nightlight multiple times. she tries to play it off but everyone knows that she loves- absolutely adores- her newest sibling

we all know Alcina is such a wonderful mother to the girls so adding another baby to the mix was a guaranteed success

she's so doting and careful (a little overprotective at times but she means well) as she is with her girls

as the child grows into a teen, she panics a bit because "my beautiful baby is growing into such a beautiful, talented adult" so expect a lot of late night visits when she just sits on the edge of her bed and just admires how much you've grown

Salvatore Moreau:

now this one is an easy one too if i'm 100% honest

think Moses type beat

(if you don't know, Moses was found in the riverbank in a little basket)

apparently i really like baskets

anyways

Moreau was so out of his element when he found this tiny, screaming, writhing piece of soft flesh

the first few weeks were rough

but he eventually got the hang of it (with Alcina's help of course)

he would take his child fishing every now and then- just the two of them out on a boat for a few hours

the kid would literally swim more than walk and that little fact would make Moreau so freakin proud

also this kid would be so well-versed in movie and film history it's stupid

like expect this little 4 or 5 year old babbling not about toys or snow or how many sticks they found but instead about the copyright war over the film Nosferatu and the destruction of its copies

Moreau, as the child gets older (like 11 or 12) would have just a tad of trouble trying to keep the kid out of the village

he'd wake up one day and go out onto the lake, expecting his child to be swinging their legs off the dock and watching the sun rise over the water

and when he finds that they were not, in fact, swinging their legs off the dock and watching the sun rise over the water, he p a n i c s

i mean, full blown red alert

all of the lords are summoned to help Moreau look for his missing kid, the lycans are given an article of clothing to help find the scent, Mother Miranda goes to search the village herself- the whole shebang

and when the kid is found playing with the village children, Moreau bursts into tears

needless to say, the kid isn't allowed to go to the village anymore

until they're fifty (Moreau's words, of course)

but the kid sneaks off more and more as they get older, using Alcina or Donna or Karl as an excuse to be away

and Moreau knows but he never says a word

seeing his child happy and free with the kids their age makes him happy, even if he is a tad, a tad, a tad bit nervous

Donna Beneviento:

when Donna found this child huddled up against the base of the stairs leading up to her front door, she at first thought it was a doll of hers

it was only when she actually walked outside that she realised it was this shaking, shriveled child in tattered clothes

she spent a good five minutes just staring, wondering how on earth she's supposed to react

that's when Angie jumped in and pulled at her skirt, telling her to "let the kid inside, already!"

Donna went immediately to work on some clothes- why on earth were they wearing such ragged things?! it's freezing outside!- while Angie entertained in the parlour

honestly, it didn't go well

the kid was a little bit unsettled by the floating doll that moved and spoke on its own FOR GOOD REASON

and when Donna walked back in with her measurement tape and some fabric, the kid backed themselves into a corner of the room with their gangly legs tucked into their chest

Angie sighs from the opposite side of the room, letting her little feet fidget as she gestures to the kid. "they're no fun" she pouts, "wouldn't even let me know their name"

Donna puts her materials down slowly and lifts her veil back before attempting a small smile

it takes a while but upon the offer of food, the kid finally lets Donna make them some clothes while Angie makes conversation

she works in silence, only offering small awkward smiles

Angie finally brings up the topic of where their parents are when the kid's clothes are done

when the child goes silent, Donna nods in understanding before hurrying off to make a room for them

as Angie helped tug the blankets up to the child's ears, they promised they'd be gone in the morning

Angie was the one to tell them off.

"You'll stay as long as you need, you silly goose!"

and the child did

Donna would let them tag along for meetings so long as they promised to keep quiet and help keep Angie out of trouble

most of the time, it didn't work and they both would end up in trouble but Donna let them come nonetheless

and when the other Lords question where on earth this little kid came from- all dressed in black fabric that matched Donna's dress, she just shook her head and let Angie chase them off verbally

she'd spend literal HOURS locked in that workshop making new little friends for her child and when they were old enough, she'd let them into the workshop

and when they were even older, she'd walk them through making their very first doll on their own

she'd just watch with pride as they carefully painted the freckles with a shaky hand while Angie danced around their ankles singing of how excited she was to have another friend

The Duke:

he would be setting up shop near the base of the Dimitrescu castle when he catches a kid trying to steal some his wares

he wouldn't be terribly upset, more concerned

it wasn't something shiny or expensive that they were trying to steal

it was some of the steaming-hot food he had left to cool in the wintry air

he confronted the child gently and with a warm smile

"That's cordon bleu," he says, gesturing to the steaming plate. "I can make you some if you'd like"

and as the child eats, the Duke continues tidying up his shop for any future customers

the child, through a mouthful of food, points to different items and asks their purpose, their price, their possible enhancements

the Duke answers each question with patience, happy for the company

but he doesn't just let the questions go one-way

"How about a trade?" he asks as the child asks about the strange-looking bottle of green liquid. "An answer for an answer."

the child agrees and the Duke starts to peel back layers of why the child was here looking for food

they had been orphaned by the last lycan attack, only barely making it out by fleeing into the woods

they tried to forage off of berry bushes and successfully managed to kill a pig- only for the blood to attract lycans before they could properly eat it

the Duke nods and continues busying himself with his shop, feeding the horse that pulls the wagon

the thought had hit him when he watched the child petting his horse

that horse hated everyone. including him at times.

maybe...

when he offered to take the child in, the kid nearly burst into tears and thanked him repeatedly, swearing to earn their keep

and they did, seven times over

what started off as a purely business venture morphed into something more as time went on

when the child would come back from selling smaller household items like gasoline and the occasional package of bullets, the Duke would have them climb onto the roof of the wagon and watch the sun set together with a plate of food

speaking of which, like Moreau, the Duke would raise the most cultured child

this kid would know how to prepare and identify different dishes and their ingredients just by looking at them or smelling them

and their palate would be far more sophisticated than most adults

the Duke, as the child gets older, would eventually allow them to choose destinations to set up shop- even outside of the village

wherever his child wants, the shop would go

it allows them to see the world and its earthly wares together- something the Duke had lacked in his life before the child was brought into the picture

Karl Heisenberg:

listen to me very very carefully

this man would be the most chaotic father ever to walk this earthly realm

when he finds this kid in the elevator of his factory, he's kinda standing there like 🧍 "what the hell-"

and when the kid starts spamming the button while maintaining eye contact, he kinda snaps out of it and starts chasing after them as they drop down to a different floor

it goes on for a solid twenty minutes before he finally managed to track them down in the corner of his office

and when i say this man is confused, i freaking mean it

i mean

why the HELL would some random kid be in his factory? don't they like... play with ponies or something at this age?

to be fair, this man literally has never been allowed a childhood so

obviously he starts scolding the kid ("what the hell are you doin' in here? it's dangerous and there's some really freaky shit here, kid"), dragging them to a nearby sink because "holy shit kid, you're filthy"

the kid is silent essentially the whole time, just kinda staring into his eyes

and of course Karl's gonna be like "...the fuck're you doin'?"

the kid's face is cleaned off and Karl sends them back out towards the village with a scratchy blanket he pulled out of the bottom of his desk drawer

he's working on his 'equipment' one day when he starts reaching for a wrench, keeping his focus on the body on the table

when i say this man jumps skyhigh at the kid asking a question, i mean it

he drags the kid back out, yelling about how dangerous it is and how "you shouldn't do that! you're gonna get yourself killed! go back home!"

the kid doesn't listen

it becomes a regular thing- Karl finds the kid wandering around the factory, Karl brings the kid out of danger, Karl tells them to get lost

eventually (day thirteen of this) he asks why the child keeps coming back

and he hates the answer he gets

it was something along the lines of "it's warm and there's nowhere else for me to go"

so Karl reluctantly eagerly lets them stay

it's a lot of rules at first (a kid shouldn't be allowed to just wander around a bunch of mindless cyborg killers, let alone a factory) but eventually the child learns to mind Sturm and the others

doesn't mean Karl does not have a fullblown heart attack when he walks into his workspace to find the kid tracing their finger along the center of the battery for the Soldats

after a very long talk (and some deep breathing) Karl reluctantly eagerly lets them sit against the very far wall to watch him work on the machinery- not, under any circumstances, the actual bodies

as the child blossoms into a young adult, they start to help out with certain aspects of Karl's work

exclusively machinery because Karl could not physically handle having his kid watch him get elbow-deep into a corpse

and Karl is so freaking proud of it

when the Soldat is kicked to life, he's got his kid in his arms and cackling like the proud dad he is

yeah. paternal Heisenberg>>>

#anon ask #anon #karl heisenberg #alcina dimitrescu #donna beneviento #salvatore moreau #re8 #resident evil 8 #the duke #resident evil village #resident evil #resident evil village fanfiction #gender neutral #headcanons #re8 headcanons #resident evil headcanons #resident evil village headcanons #yeah i had a lot of fun with this #thank you again anon

[deliciousdetectivestranger]

•Kit is great at household chores. In canon it's proven that Johnny never cared about appearances other than his Shadow Market identity. So, Kit did grow up knowing how to cook and keep the house clean. He and Julian regularly hold cooking competition with Aline as the judge and it's just both of them because no one wants to eat Izzy's cooking and there is terror running through Blackthorns and Cristina that Helen might make porridge or something similar again.

•In the very first chapter of LM Kit's clothes are tattered so he obviously had to sew and mend them. Hence, Kit also knows embroidery and weaving. Just imagine Kit weaving beautiful tapestries of his times at Shadow Market and of the new view of Shadowhunters. He'll be very popular that Clave-in-exile and Unseelie Court have many of his tapestries which makes Seelie Queen curious of the Lost Herondale.

•Kit wants to be a journalist when he grows up. He was raised with a biased view by Johnny but he was able to see the faults in his father's teachings when he was with the Blackthorns. Plus he lives with Jem and Tessa now who along with Catarina, Magnus and Ragnor will tell him the true history of Shadow World.

*Kit is very intelligent and studious. In LoS When Zara mentioned the Downworld Registry Kit made mention of Mundane History even though Johnny had pulled him out of school when he was quite young. He knows of Greek mythology and in QoAaD he was quoted Shakespeare easily which he taught himself.

*Kit is also quite observant. In LM when Emma and Cameron visit Johnny's stall Kit was able to draw conclusions about them with no difficulty. It was the same when Jemma found that Ty had sneaked with them to Rook's house. Apart from Mark Kit was the only one who was suspicious of Magnus in LoS when the warlock at the second day in London Institute made Blackthorns lives easier.

*Therefore, I've a feeling that Kit will do a wonderful job as a journalist because who else than the boy who grew up in the Shadow Markets, is member of one of the most famous bloodlines among Nephilim and is the First Heir, will no how necessary it is to have truth spread and how to soread it. Alec, Ash, and Kieran had to bid (conducted by the rest of the TMI gang, Jessa, Blackthorns, Emma and Cristina) for having Kit as their official journalist.

Plus my personal headcanon Ty is conducting a Centurion investigation and he runs into Kit who in typical Kit Herondale fashion is there at the right place at right time and is following a lead for his research. Needless to say they are on the same case.

Link for the image

Just picture Irene instead of the dog. Sorry but I don't have a drop of artistic blood in me.

#kit herondale #ty blackthorn #kitty #holmes and watson #johnlock #detective #journalist #tessa gray #jem carstairs #magnus bane #alec lightwood #catarina loss #ragnor fell #kiera kingson #cristina rosales #mark blackthorn #helen blackthorn #aline penhallow #julian blackthorn #emma carstairs #livvy blackthorn #dru blackthorn #jace herondale #clary fairchild #simon lewsi lovelace #isabelle lightwood #ash morgenstern #the wicked powers #Kit Herondale is a genius #Kit Herondale is not a himbo

[bambooslayer]

Scent Headcanons

so my covid/quarantine experience has been marked mainly by two things: indie perfume and the magnus archives. to combine these two interests, I’ve decided to match the “scent vibes” of some magnus characters and the entities. scent headcanons I guess? if those weren’t a thing before they are now. scents that I’ve tried will be marked with a *.

The Institute Staff

Jon- Solstice Scents' Gibbon’s Boarding School: dusty wooden desks, paper, carefully hidden tobacco pouch, dying fire, dried leaves, leather chairs, autumn breeze

This scent really captures the “tired academic” aura of Jon, especially S1-S2. Not quite completely put together, but still surrounded by the scent of knowledge.

Martin- Stereoplasm's Lydia*: A uniquely transformative scent; opens with agrestic lavender and earl grey tea with snips of fresh fennel greens. A flood of soapy emerald green bubbles then rests softly into clean sunset musk.

Martin has a comforting, calming scent. He always, always smells like tea no matter what he wears or does. Hints of soap peak through as he tries to keep himself clean and put together, even if the world is about to end. The scent of someone who’s learned to pull himself together to be ready for everyone else.

Sasha- Alkemia's Old Books and Fresh Flowers*: Fresh neroli orange flowers and heliotrope blossoms pressed between the delicate paper pages of a leather-bound book

Boundless beauty and ancient knowledge in one scent. She’s always sorting through the archive’s resources and constantly smells like the ancient paper surrounding her.

Tim- alphamusk's Bardot*: Gorgeous badass goddess like musk that’s insanely irresistible. Notes of roses, woods, magnolias but all blended so effortlessly and meld together beautifully in this sexy magnetizing musk. Everyone who smells it loves it. Very femme. Iconic.

Who doesn’t love Tim at first sight? A sexy, charismatic, fingergun shooting bisexual who’s always ready to do what he needs to get things done. A scent that blurs the lines between gender fits him, and it’s sexy to match. Even when he’s at his lowest, he still draws you in.

Elias- Alkemia's Book of Shadows*: A biblichor of eldritch books - heavy parchment paper, ancient iron oak gall ink, crumbling leather bindings, and wafts of rare incenses

Jonah Magnus smells of all the cursed knowledge he’s acquired. The statements and ancient books he’s encountered leave their marks on him in scent. You can’t smell the underlying evil, but there’s a certain darkness that lives there.

Basira - Death and Floral’s Red string of fate: Red musk and black, burnt amber blended with golden honey and black molasses

I don’t have a good explanation for this, it just feels right.

Melanie- Death and Floral’s Half-hoping to be eaten by a bear: Woody, sweet bare skin; the lingering scent of dry leaves on a cold morning.

Melanie smells of her supernatural adventures and longing for something more.

Daisy- Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab's Mr. Czernobog: Unfiltered cigarettes, the leather and metal of sledgehammers, aortal blood slowly drying, and black incense.

Daisy knows what she’s done. She’s a Hunter, and these smells follow her.

Peter Lukas- Arcana Wildcraft's Black Sand: The scent of a warm night on a dark, sandy beach. Atmospheric sweetness with a hint of salt air and a subtle undercurrent of danger. The richest amber resin, black coconut, coconut husks, and smoky vetiver.

The scent of the loneliest sailor. There’s a dangerous draw to him still, but you can tell you should keep your distance. (unless you’re Elias of course)

The Entities

The Buried- Alkemia’s St. Louis Cemetery #1: “An atmospheric brooding of Spanish moss, crumbling stone, old cement, red clay brick, and graveyard dirt.”  

It’s not quite burying you, but it’s about to. You won’t be able to tell that it will until it’s too late.

The Corruption- Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab’s Elli’s Song: “The horrors of entropy, death, and decay: desiccated black mosses, vetiver, olibanum, patchouli, and ashes.”

Rotting. Decay. The disgusting decomposition of all things.

The Dark- Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab’s Event Horizon: “A disconcerting scent, heavy and oppressive, through which no light, no matter, and no spirit can escape. Black opium, labdanum, opoponax, black orchid, and benzoin.”

Pretty self-explanatory. Complete and utter darkness.

The Desolation- Arcana Wildcraft's Devilish: “Shaking off vanilla's reputation for namby pambyness, this infernally dark and smoky fragrance comes complete with licks of fire and sulfurous wafts of brimstone. The devil really does have all the best scents.”

Was it worth it? The meaningful life you lived? Was it worth meeting this fiery end? A scent to match the end of a life worthwhile.

The End- Alkemia's Dustsceawung: “Dustsceawung is the contemplation of dust, worldly desires, and the ephemerality of all things... raspings that were once a tree, ruins that were once cities, bones that were once lovers. Dust is always the ultimate destination on our journey. The scent of forbidden explorations and an olfactory meditation on dust... attic air, the inside of old trunks, abandoned haylofts, library stacks, and abandoned buildings.”

The death of all things. Everything must succumb to its true form: dust. No matter what you fear, no matter how accomplished you are, no matter what you’ve planned, it will come for all. This scent carries the dust of those already ended, a reminder of your fate.

The Extinction- Alkemia's Deus Ex Machina: “An olfactory portrait of industrial decay and the fallen gods of age of disruption, innovation, and technological revolution... fire hardened steel, rusted iron, motor oil, wet cement, burnt copper wires, and grey amber.”

Mankind has brought itself to the edge. All that it has created is what finally destroys it. Remnants of industry linger, all that’s left of humanity’s monstrosity.

The Eye- Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab's The Book: “Old, yellowed parchment paper, tattered leather bindings. There’s a distinct warmth to the scent, though it is ancient and brittle.”

All knowledge lives here. It has watched you your entire life. It knows everything about you, everything about everyone, everything about everyone that has lived. Pages and pages and pages of its stronghold live in the institutes.  

The Flesh- Arcana Wildcraft’s Edward Hyde: “A depraved mix of dirt, blood red musk, roasted meat accord, acrid yellow musk, salt, and an odd hint of expensive men’s cologne.”

Meat. Meat. Meat. Meat is meat. A meaty scent that marks the servants of the flesh.

The Hunt- Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab’s Berzerker: “Thick furs, strips of leather, and a blood-stained axe with crushed poplar bud and juniper”

The Hunt is never over. Once you get a taste of blood, there is no going back. Furs of a predator, the sharp metallic weapon mixed with the blood of your prey.

The Lonely- Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab’s Desolation: “In the perfume, I also tried to capture the blue-violet-white of an afterimage and the silence of a snuffed candle. The scent is dry with age, taut with loss, grief, and heartbreak, and sorrowful in the unspeakable desolation of simply being forgotten.”

Alone at last. Forever. Alone in life, alone in memory, alone in history. A scent that marks those marked by the Lonely, disappearing into nothing.

The Slaughter- Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab’s The Black Tower- “A sepulchral, desolate scent. Long-dead soldiers, oath-bound; the perfume of their armor, the chill wind that surges through their tower, white bone and blackened steel: white sandalwood, ambergris, wet ozone, galbanum and leather with ebony, teak, burnt grasses, English ivy and a hint of red wine.”

The scent of those trapped in the endless cycle of the violence of war, spanning centuries of slaughter.

The Spiral- Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab’s Azathoth: “Azathoth is the blind, idiot god who sits on a black throne at the center of Chaos. His scent is high-pitched and screeching, both impenetrably dark and searingly bright with the clarity of madness: tangerine, saffron, vetiver, black amber and cedarwood.”

A scent that matches the contradictions and chaos of the spiral.

The Stranger- Arcana Wildcraft’s Blood & Circuses: “The monstrously sweet scent of clowns gone wrong. An outlandish, carnivalic mix of white pancake makeup accord, pink cotton candy, and the salty sugariness of warm kettle corn.”

The circus has returned. I hope you’re ready for the show. Steer clear of anyone who carries this smell, and give an extra glance to the mannequins you pass.

The Vast- Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab’s R'Lyeh: “The sunken city of the Great God Cthulhu. A hellishly dark aquatic scent, evocative of fathomless oceanic deeps, the mysteries of madness buried under crushing black waters, and the brooding eternal evil that lies beneath the waves.”

The scent of an eternal expanse that you cannot possibly comprehend. Is it the fear of what lies beneath? Is it the depth itself? Does it matter once you’re lost in it?

The Web- Haus of Gloi’s Spider Silk: “Procured from a dream: delicate water mint, wispy grey musk, crystalline webs of amber, oakmoss, torchwood, copaiba resin, and a touch of withered violet leaf.”

A gentle spider creeps its way around, leaving their little traces in the webs they weave. Only too late will you notice that you’re trapped in the web.

#tma #the magnus archives #this took me way too long

[unbloomingmoonflower]

☮ - friendship headcanon ♦ - quirks/hobbies headcanon

Shuri is a dedicated and protective friend. Whomever happens to get bestowed the honor of her friend means that you're stuck with her like a baby koala to your back.

That said, she wouldn't be an enabler. If someone has a bad habit or is veering to dangerous waters, Shuri will let them know with a firm mom-voice. She's a bit of a mom friend and tends to scold when her friends speak badly of themselves.

Shuri enjoys weaving clothes and brewing teas as a hobby. She also tends to be shy at first blush and then be far more open the closer you get to her. She's a very open person when she gets to know people and always enjoys hearing about others' experience. She'll also mend their clothes if she sees they're tattered.

#headcanons

[arofili]

The Second Kinslaying

for @feanorianweek, day 5: Curufin. this fic is my headcanons for how the Second Kinslaying went down. this is a dream/flashback from chapter 4 of a longer fic about the Feanorians’ rebirth, but it stands on its own and i’m quite proud of it so i wanted to share it again!!

CW: canonical character death, graphic depictions of violence

~

Maedhros tells them to hold back as long as they can. Curufin tries to listen, but he is so full of anger; the Oath pushes him forward...

They are met by a line of guards—marchwardens summoned home to protect Menegroth from attack. They are not enough, not without Melian's protection. Maedhros orders not to kill them unless they must. Curufin tries to obey, he truly does, but the first marchwarden cuts down one of his warriors and he sees red. Before he knows it, he has killed again.

It's never easy. Looking into the glassy eyes of another elf, their blood on your hands, their fae drained away... Your own fae is tattered at the edges, bleeding out its light. Curufin isn't just tattered, he's shredded into pieces.

Caranthir charges forward, wreaking a path of destruction. He screams Dior's name, taunting him, goading him to come out and fight. "Or are you content to let your people die for you?" he cries. Curufin is too caught up in the battle to feel anything other than a brief pang of fear for his brother. Caranthir fights alone: it is his way, has always been his way.

Maedhros and Maglor are together, bellowing commands to their warriors, trying to keep the bloodshed to a minimum. Maglor weaves between Maedhros' swordstrokes, dancing in a rhythm only he can hear. He is preparing for something, Curufin knows. Something powerful. Maedhros stands tall, defending. He cuts down only those who come for him, never seeking out an opponent. He doesn't have to: he is the leader, the eldest, the fiery beacon burning through the gaping wounds in his fae. He is the target.

The twins are hidden in the trees. They and their archers rain arrows upon the warriors; the strategy is not as effective as it would have been in their own lands. The marchwardens know their home too well, and clamber up the branches to fight them closer.

He and Celegorm are back to back, working together as they always have. They are better as a unit, fiercer and sharper and faster. United with his brother, Curufin is unstoppable. Celegorm is wildness, he is cleverness. Together they are a force to be reckoned with.

The carnage outside the throne room is sickening, even to Curufin. He wades in blood, widening his stance so he does not slip; he watches less experienced fighters trip over the bodies of their fallen kin. When one marchwarden falters in such a blunder, Curufin lunges, splitting him open from groin to gullet.

At last they see Dior. He is radiant, glowing like a Calaquendi, but all seven Fëanorians can see at once that he has hidden the Silmaril. It may still be on his person, or it may be elsewhere—where is it? where is it? where is it?

Caranthir screams and rushes forward into the throne room. He babbles some nonsense about a Maia's bastard, coming completely unhinged. Curufin exchanges one look with Celegorm, and they hurry to their brother's aid.

They can't get close enough. Behind him, Curufin can hear Maglor's voice raised in a song of power, and the earth trembles—the walls outside the throne room collapse. They are trapped inside. The fighting intensifies; Curufin and Celegorm protect Caranthir's back, holding back anyone who tries to assault him in his march to Dior, but they cannot reach him.

"What is he doing?" Celegorm bellows. "This is madness! He'll be killed!"

Caranthir has cast down his shield. He holds a blade in either hand, and he leaps toward Dior, who catches those twin blades with his own curved sword.

Madness. Yes, that was the right word. Caranthir had gone mad, heedless of his many wounds, completely berserk. Celegorm cried out to him, but Curufin knew it wouldn't work. Caranthir was too far gone inside his own mind.

"NO!" Celegorm shouts, and Curufin can't find words, can't find air, can't find meaning—

Dior's blade has sliced through Caranthir's armor, through his skin, through his belly, straight through to the other side of his body.

Caranthir goes still, staring into Dior's gleaming eyes. "Kinslayer," he says through a mouthful of blood, before he falls limp, Dior's blade sliding out of him.

Fool. A damn fool, that's what he was. Curufin's hot tears blind him as he rushes forward, heedless of who he's killing as he fights his way to his brother's body. Celegorm roars, and he's no singer like Maglor, but the sound sends a wave of force throughout the throne room. Every elf tumbles to the ground—only Curufin, standing in his shadow, keeps his footing. He darts forward, slicing throats, slitting wrists, stealing life from all those around him. He isn't sure if all his own warriors had already fallen, or if he had killed them all too, but by the time he regains control of himself, only he, Celegorm, and Dior are standing.

"You know," Celegorm growls as he advances on the murderous king, "if you had surrendered and given us the Silmaril, we would have spared you. Even if we'd already started fighting. But now?" He lunges forward, nicking Dior on the arm before his blow is deflected. "Now, I don't care what you do. I'm going to fucking disembowl you."

"Oh, yes," Curufin hisses, mirroring his brother as the duel begins in earnest. "You killed our brother. I am going to enjoy your suffering, Dior Eluchíl."

(The worst thing, Curufin thinks later, after it is all over, is that it is absolutely true. He never took pleasure in murder, despite what the stories may have said. He accepted it as part of the Oath they had sworn and didn't waste time obsessing over the guilt—not the way Nelyo did—but he never liked it. But this time...)

This time, he relishes every second of Dior's pain and fear. He draws it out, longer than he needs to, balancing Celegorm's impatient fury. Dior knows he's losing, but he holds his own against the two most fearsome warriors left living in Beleriand. He must have known this day would come, must have been raised in fear of the Fëanorians.

Well, good, Curufin thinks as he cuts one of Dior's sleeves off, then the other, grinning as Dior gasps from the pain of the shallow grazes on his arms. He deserves every second of terror, for what he had done to Caranthir.

"Shall we finish him, brother?" he asks Celegorm.

"I think we shall," Celegorm growls. He raises his sword for one final, heaving blow—

And Dior, faster than Curufin thought anyone could be, twists away from Curufin and drives his blade right into Celegorm's chest.

Celegorm finishes his movement, thrown off balance by the deadly wound but still managing to slice open Dior's stomach. His guts spill across his body with an acidic stench that rises to Curufin's nostrils, but he barely notices as Celegorm heaves his last breath and falls, glassy-eyed, to the blood-drenched floor.

Dior tumbles to the ground, groaning horribly, his sword clattering out of his hand. Curufin turns away from him, kneeling beside Celegorm's body, howling his grief. He feels as if half his soul has been torn from him. Celegorm is dead.

Curufin rises, trembling. He casts aside his own blade and picks up Dior's sword, advancing on his fallen foe.

"Where is it?" he hisses. "The Silmaril! Where is it?"

Dior laughs, an awful, guttural sound. "You'll never get it," he rasps. "Never. Not even—" he coughs, choking on his own blood— "not even if you slaughter everyone in Doriath. You'll never find it."

Curufin's rage is controlled, precise. He has honed it over his entire life like he would any other weapon, and even now he does not lose that control.

"My brother was always true to his word," he says softly, almost conversationally. "He promised to disembowl you." Curufin prods the mass of putrid guts spilling out of Dior's stomach, chuckling. "And he did it. I, however, am a known liar. I said I would enjoy your death. Now I am not so sure. Perhaps I will let you lie here until the rats come to feast upon you. I should let you bleed out, long and slow. You are going to die, you know."

Fear flickers in Dior's eyes. Curufin smiles.

"Yes, I think I'll do that," he says. "Let you go at your own pace. That will delay the inevitable."

"You..." Dior rasps, but Curufin cuts him off.

"Ah ah ah," he tuts. "Talking only makes it worse."

He shifts as if to turn around, letting Dior think he's gotten off the hook, that perhaps there may some way his Ainur blood could stitch him back together. He sees Dior relax slightly out of the corner of his eye.

Then he spins back around, shoving Dior's own blade down his throat until he chokes on it, bursting through his esophagus and pinning him to the floor. Dior screams, as much as a dying man with a sword through his throat can scream, and the awful noise causes a thrill of sadistic joy in the pit of Curufin's stomach.

The scream trails off into a hideous gurgle, and Curufin's shoulders slump. Grief at last overtakes him, and he shakes as sobs rack his body. Caranthir is dead. Celegorm is dead. Dior is dead, also, but the Silmaril is not on his body. Unless the others have discovered it, this horror is all in vain...

The others. Maedhros, Maglor, Amrod, Amras. He must tell them what had happened. He must be the one to deliver the heartbreaking news that two of them had fallen. He must—

"Oh," he says softly as he feels cold steel run through his back and watches as a sword slides through his belly. He is dizzy all of a sudden, though his rhaw has gone numb and all sense of pain is dulled.

Curufin topples backward, falling on the hilt of the sword, the weight of his body pushing the blade deeper into his torso. He looks up, mouth hanging open in surprise, to see a slight and silvery figure hovering above him, her bloodstained hands clasped over her mouth in horror. Nimloth has taken vengeance for her husband.

He locks eyes with her. He is barely aware of what he whispers in his dying breath, but she hears it, the echo of Caranthir's last accusation:

"Kinslayer."

~

[read more about Curvo’s thoughts “after it is all over” in ATATYA, the fic i pulled this snippet from! and please, please leave a comment if you enjoy!]

#feanorianweek #curufin #caranthir #celegorm #silmarillion #dior #nimloth #silm #my writing #tefain nin #atatya #the second kinslaying #second kinslaying

[defending-eorzea]

Primal WoL Challenge

So, I saw this awesome idea from @totallycorrectffxivquotes​ about a Primal WoL, so this is the idea for my main, Allisandra (reference picture below)

Name/Title:  Amyntas of Great Nature (Amyntas meaning protector, calling back to her being a protector as the Warrior of Light, and her real name, Allisandra, means of great nature)

Battle Music: First Phase: The Kingdom of Tantal (Day) - Xenoblade Chronicles 2, Second Phase: Chasing Daybreak (Rain) - Fire Emblem: Three Houses

Appearance: Her skin appears to have hardened into something akin to stone, the green highlights in her hair appear to be glowing softly, she wears a crown of blackened thorns on her head (as a reference to her last name Blackthorn), she wears a floor length white dress with long, lacy sleeves (as a reference to her white mage robes) that has been tattered and covered in dirt, vines weave up her arms, around her waist, and around her ankles (as a reference to the vine-like tattoo on the left side of her face) and the vines are spotted with black roses (as a reference to the black flower tattoo under her right eye and the very thing that killed her), she has bare feet, and she holds a cane that appears to be the Weathered Tishtrya except the flower on top of it is black

Start of Battle Quote: “Who would dare disturb the nature of this world?!”

DPS Check, moveset name or quote said when casting: Upon beginning the DPS check, she says “Will you be able to handle the power of nature? Or will nature consume you?”. Similar to the first part of Titania’s DPS check, she would summon three adds to the battlefield. Each one would be a different element: One water, one earth, and one wind. When the three adds were defeated, they would combine together into a single powerful add. If the DPS check is failed, she will cast a spell called “Eternal Purity” where the entire screen bursts into light, like an upgraded Holy attack, that will wipe the party.

Party losing to Primal WoL quote: “How can you hope to save this world if you cannot get past me?”

Primal WoL losing Quote: “Please… protect what is left of this crumbling world…”

Other Details: She would be floating the entire time, almost as is she was frozen in a cast for Holy. And because I love me some angst, I always had a headcanon that even though Allisandra died in the Eighth Umbral Calamity, her twin sister Sylvana survived. If Amyntas was summoned, I can see Sylvana leading the charge against this primal. And to make it extra angsty, as a bard, Sylvana would deal the final blow with an arrow piercing Amyntas’ chest, symbolic in the respect that Allisandra was an extremely empathetic person.

#Primal WoL Challenge #allisandra blackthorn #shadowbringers spoilers #just in case #FFXIV #i may do this for my other WoLs but i'm not sure yet #we'll see

[thegildenheart]

ARR: First Impressions

In which Thancred is robbed by, and stumbles upon, the unknown Warrior of Light completely by accident.

(My headcanon on Warrior of Light Alley’s first meeting with Thancred Waters.)

The Warrior of Light had many names, and was many things to many people. Hydaelyn's Chosen. The Hero of Eorzea. The Slayer of Gods. The Liberator.

Before all that, however, she was the Alley Rat.

Thancred Waters knew this better than most.

Better than anybody, perhaps; though he was not keen in claiming such, he was the reason she was introduced to the Scions of the Seventh Dawn at all. Indeed, the group he called home – the selfsame that had now become so earnestly affiliated with the various government bodies of Eorzea – would not be where it was today had it not been for the discovery of one certain homeless Midlander.

It was a fact he was certain of, despite the knowledge and trust he had in his fellow Scions.

Thancred himself was born a street urchin in Limsa Lominsa, just as the Warrior of Light was in Ul'dah. He was typically reluctant to recall his time amongst petty thieves, and even further still to relive his pickpocketing attempt on a certain elderly Elezen, but the parallels amused him all the same. Louisoix's boots were large ones to fill, but in the same way the Elezen had discovered Thancred, and given him a life of purpose, so too had Thancred to the Warrior of Light.

She, in turn, looked up to him as not only a close friend, but a mentor, and a saviour. To be looked upon so highly by the girl who had since slain god-like entities called Primals time and time again only ever prove to ground him in a humility he had long since accepted as inevitable.

The Warrior of Light's name was Allie Lindlum, the Alley Rat, and he remembered the meeting as if it were yesterday.

This damnable heat.

Thancred would call it insufferable were it not for the dancers on every street, clad in little but that to ensure their barest modesty. Minfilia had spent several evenings scolding him for his insistence on working to his utmost, so he felt little shame paying such sights a few moments of attention. Still, he was here with a mission, and the heat – welcome sights of dancers or not – was doing him no favours.

Silently, he envied Y'shtola's mission in Limsa Lominsa, amongst the ocean breeze and like-minded individuals (welcome or otherwise).

The Midlander weaved his way through the crowds of people, pricking his ears. The sounds of commerce were thick, filling the streets with cries of contesting customers and honest merchants alike. Aether disturbances were peculiar occurrences, but more likely than not, somebody in a city as large and populated as Ul'dah would let slip whispers of something untoward in the area.

That was his hope, at least; the Sharlayan goggles resting on his right shoulder would guide him if nothing else –

Wait.

With a sudden, growing sense of unease, Thancred patted his shoulder to find it bare, save for the linen of his dark tunic. He groaned. Y'shtola was going to kill him! The device – lenses set tightly against a gold frame – was designed to analyse aetherial energy in the area... which was, naturally, of great import to his mission of finding disruptions in the first place! With a grimace, Thancred ran fingers over his belt, confirming his suspicion: his coin purse was missing as well.

He'd be robbed.

Allie couldn't believe her luck!

Well, it wasn't all luck. She was very skilled, after all. And magical, too! Or so she told her friends. The young girl had always felt gifted in her craft, able to steal from even the wariest of marks, be they tall and burly or small and crafty. Or, in this particular case, sketchy but very handsome. She tried to teach her like-minded urchins, but none had the knack she had, and when she claimed to be able to sense what people were about to do when she really focused, all she received was a scoff and and eye roll for her troubles.

But it was true!

Easing through the crowd, she spied a particularly expensive looking doodad on an especially charming looking Midlander. He wasn't dressed particularly well – a black linen shirt on a white underlayer, really? - but the strange thing on his shoulder caught the waif's interest nonetheless. It was gold and had strange parts in it. That was definitely worth something!

Following along at a casual pace, Allie shifted all of her focus to the man with white hair. It typically took several moments, but her gift did always eventually kick in, and as with everybody else, the girl could begin to feel the ebb and flow of his movements. His intentions became clear to her, fleeting glimpses of changes in his direction seconds before they happened. It was when she felt him stop and turn his gaze towards several Miqo'te dancers that she found her moment.

Lifting the device off his shoulder was surprisingly easy, all told, certainly with the man's gaze so firmly... elsewhere. It was haphazardly held by simple leather straps, loose enough for nimble fingers to pry looser still. In a deft movement, the strange device slid free of the Midlander's shoulder and into Allie's possession just as the man gave a small whistle to a certain dancer.

She also lifted his coin purse for her troubles, but only because he was asking for it, wearing it so brazenly on his belt as he did, and more importantly besides, for his rather obvious ogling.

Eager to make herself scarce, Allie disappeared into the crowd going the opposite direction to admire her new royalty. She turned it over in her hands, marvelling at the strange design of the contraption as she carefully stepped over a drunken, stumbling Lalafell merchant underfoot. The frame was gold – or at least painted so, she couldn't tell – and it had curious round glass bits, too. Was it supposed to be a mask, she wondered?

Allie was drawn from her thoughts by a shrill cry.

Thancred's search was fruitful, if not entirely happenstance. Drawn by the sudden yell of a woman – a damsel in distress, perhaps! - the Scion spied a young, blonde dreadlocked girl crowding around the scene, with a rather familiar device in her grubby little hands, at that...

“Shut your mouth, you thieving little swine! You stole from me – don't even think to deny it!”

Thancred grimaced. His own thoughts – albeit a touch less mannered than his own – rang loudly, sourced from a particularly obnoxious looking Midlander merchant. Two thugs sat at his wings – a burly Roegadyn with a gaudy bandana and even gaudier leather armour – and a robed gentleman he could not see the features of. Easing his way closer to the thief of his dear aetherial analyser until he was directly behind her, Thancred found another woman, sprawled across the floor, hand clutched to her chest. No doubt the owner of the shrill cry just seconds prior.

“P-please, sir, I didn't steal nothin'! I b-bought this – paid for it with me own coin!”

Thancred's lips curled in distaste. It was a scene that grew in occurrence since the refugees began to pour in to Ul'dah, but they were no easier to see despite it. His focus was on reclaiming the device the onlooking blonde had taken, but at the same time... he curled his fingers around the dagger at his side and waited. He could not stand by idly while a woman – guilty or innocent – was endangered by thugs.

“What rot! You refugees are all the same – couldn't afford maggoty mole meat, much less a choice cut of dodo! I'm going to say it one more time: give back what you stole, or I'll make you wish you'd never set foot in this town!”

The crowd that had formed looked on in dismay, though slowly began to thin and disperse. Thancred settled on the idea that the offended merchant had strings to pull rather quickly, given the populace's haste to leave him berate the poor woman in peace. The thief that had stolen his device, however, remained stood, a grimace upon her youthful features.

“By rights, I should turn you over to the Brass Blades, you know – help keep the streets safe for law-abiding citizens,” the merchant continued, a coy smirk settling into his weasle-like features. It made Thancred's stomach turn. “But I'm a reasonable man. If you agree to serve me in... whatever capacity I require, the authorities needn't hear of your crime.”

“B-But I ain't done nothin' wrong! Twelve as me witness!”

Thancred had seen enough. He stepped forward, only to pause at the groan on his left. The blonde thief practically doubled forward, clutching her forehead. A pained expression wriggled across her freckled cheeks – an expression Thancred had seen before.

Staying his hand, his focus shifted, now, to the girl miming an action he'd see Minfilia do several times before...

The girl rushed forward, placing herself between the woman and the detestable merchant.

“S-she didn't do it! I saw it! I saw her buyin' the dodo cuts, I did! Paid for it with her own coin!”

Thancred's eyes narrowed, and for the first time, he took proper stock of his thief. She was young – late teens, by his guess – and definitely the fitting image of an unfortunate soul. Malnourished, underweight, impoverished – her frame was gaunt and empty, lacking in any real shape or substance. Her clothes were threadbare, tattered and frayed at their ends. What hope did she have against armed thugs?

But something in his gut kept him rooted. If she truly were like Minfilia... then...

“What are you on about, girl? I've had enough of this mummer's farce. You lot, teach them a lesson!”

What ensued next even Thancred could not explain. The rush of violence was expected on the part of the merchant's thugs, but the girl – the pickpocket – was something else. She was not trained, nor had she any weapons – but every fist that came her way found naught but air. Thancred could see the equal amounts of surprise and concentration in the girl's face, warring with each other in a sea of inexperience. She ducked, and weaved, and sometimes stumbled, but the fact remained... nothing that the brutish thugs swung her way found any purchase... nor did she, in turn, swing anything back.

“What the hells is this girl!?”

“I can't hit 'er! She won't sit still! Bleedin' rat!”

“Let's get outta here! She's some kinda monster!”

Could it be? This pickpocket, this young girl, through sheer, blind luck...

Did she have the Echo?

Thancred stepped forward.

If only he knew.

#ffxiv #longpost #alleywol #alley rat #allie lindblum #thancred waters #writing #divergence #forgive me while I find my writing voice for this #it will be rusty to start #and jump around a lot #but i want to get key moments down before i move to the divergence stuff #my writing