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[nightfuryobsessed]

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Had to update my commission prices and update the art, a lot of style changes since the last time I posted coms so it's a needed update.

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Under ReadMore: Examples of art

[nightfuryobsessed]

A piece based of an rp I'm doing on my side blog ( @the-convict-of-blood if you wanna check it out (<^<)

_____

"How do I use this as a sieve," he asks aloud, face tilted towards the roof of his sub, eyes searching for some kind of answer. In a way, it would look like he was praying to this mysterious entity. It would be almost natural for Simon of all people, to find himself in this position. He hadn't believed in Eden's god, but this entity was real. It proved that it was real and could preform miracles.

And above all, it seemed to want to help Simon. It wished for his wellbeing, it didn't want to consume him. To add it to some strange creation humans could never understand.

I am so happy with how these pieces came out, I don't normally do backgrounds and I especially don't do perspective pieces but this scene just called to me.

When writing this scene I could see the entity moving from one part of Simons vision to another and Im so happy I get to show that off!

I took some creative liberties for the entity's design (their original design was just a black shadow in the corner of your eye) so now they're very colorful and have so many different galaxies in their being.

Hope you enjoy rp partner ;)

[nightfuryobsessed]

After several days and many breaks this guy is finally done, he cooperated just long enough to get all the basic sketching done and now I can finally show Them off

Mad God is an Iron Lung oc, a God who saw Simon's story near the end, catching his soul mere moments before consumption and complete unraveling, They now use his battered form to hunt those who sent Simon on the SM-13 voyage

Mad Hunts to feed, limit The One Below's food, and in an attempt to piece Simon together. If They can't do that; They will let the Lamb sleep.

[nightfuryobsessed]

Something I drafted months ago and finally had time to properly design

These are the different muses I have for Simon, I love doing these simple comparisons, really helps with getting into the design flow

Listed are:

Iron Lung Simon | Mad God (oc)

Half God Simon (oc) | Father Simon AU

Werewolf Simon | Mutated Simon AU

[nightfuryobsessed]

I'm slowly creating a more and more fucked up design for Simon and his mutations and I'm so happy

After the events of Iron Lung, this is what happens if Simon survives. A combination of human, eel, blood ocean, and the New Tree that sprout from his want to live. When first rescued he looks more human, he has just one arm and his face is now an open wound that never seems to heal.

With enough time the wounds on his body will start to grow roots and branches, some will simply reach towards the 'sun', most however will circle around his body or face and burrow into his body once again.

Simon's jaw is not a normal human jaw, taking inspirations from past designs of the Eel (Eli, or the Amalgamation in my stories), Simon's jaw can split open to reveal another set of teeth. These work with the idea of catching prey and not letting it back up or escape. These teeth lay together much like fingers interlocking. This creates an uneven appearance but given his open wounds most assume his jaw is simply broken and cannot be reset (as if they'd waste resources for a man who looks like death).

The spines/teeth along his back are somewhat retractable. They start off as normal vertebrae but with anger they grow longer and sharper. Depending on the level of anger or fear these growths can rip through his skin and easily catch what ever prey or predator is threatening him.

Within his throat is the Ignorant God's Light and 'feelers' (for lack of a better term)

More story of this guy, eventually

[nightfuryobsessed]

technically an art collab w @drop-of-void their CE!Reader and my design of a beta fish merman Simon, w/ unintentional harness lmao

this took me about 3/4 hours to draw, very happy with the rendering on this

[nightfuryobsessed]

Out of context/WIP BloodyMary writing, this wont be until long after Simom and Grace meet and start to get along together

Prompt: Simon has to come up with a last name to join the C.O.I

"A last name," Simon questions, looking down at the blank line under the application. It was an honorary thing. Proving that someone lived and worked with the COI and that someone would remember them.

"Yeah, its for funerals and things. Not many last names exist but you can use what ever you want as your last name. I chose the word Strong," the captain says with a shrug as she grabbed the pen from her right breast pocket then handed it over to Simon.

"You have three hours to think it over. Then we'll get you into training. I'll give you time to think."

With that, Ava gave a small smile then turned around and walked out if the room, leaving Simon to think.

'A last name? I can't even remember my mother's first name. What was our last name,' he wondered to himself, tapping the bottom of the pen against the contract and blank name space. He sat there simply thinking, trying to come up with something.

'What would Grace do?'

That made him pause. Grace. That was his last name. His first name was Ryland. Had he ever called him by his first name?

"Guess that's another regret for me," he muttered to himself, pinching the bridge of his nose in thought. He really should have called Ryland...well. Ryland.

"Grace," a woman's voice says as the paper was pulled out from under Simon's hand. He looked up at the clock, the hands moved ahead to show his three hours were up. When had time moved so quickly?

[nightfuryobsessed]

The Convict meets the Mad Man

Summary: After giving all that he had for a fragment of hope, Simon finds himself face to face with two, very similar faces. What will it be like to finally have people who understand him?

Word Count: 2525

It was quiet.

A calm quiet similar to waking up from a restful dream.

And then there was a sputtering of breath, fluid filling the lungs then being expelled.

The convict snapped to his side then to his forearm and knees, unable to process that his left arm was an unnatural red and the skin was thick and uneven. Retching and coughing, he tried desperately to empty his lungs and stomach of the thick red fluid inside him.

After a moment the man stopped retching and drew in a quick-shakey breathe. He gave a low whimper as he used his left hand to wipe the corner of his mouth. The mutated arm's skin was so thick he couldn't feel the extra teeth that flexed with every breath. Not to mention the old dark green whool sleeves blocked even more sensation.

"Ugh, w-where am I," he muttered to himself as he moved to sit on his heels with his knees on the ground, back curved as he tried to catch his breath. His hair clung to his uneven, mutated skin on his forehead and temples. His brown and red eye looked around wildly, trying to understand what he saw in front of him.

All around him was white void. It appeared to be endless, no sky, no ground, no left or right. It looked as if there was absolutely nothing. Just endless void.

Simon drew in a shakey breathe as he continued scanning the room.

"I get it, this is how you fuck with me," he growls, muscles tensing as he reached for his dagger in his harness. His large, left claw grabbed the hilt of the knife and pulled it from its holster. He held the spine of the knife towards his forearm, edge pointed out as his right arm moved to hover in front of his left wrist. He rose from his kneeling position, now moving into a squared stance, his knees slightly bent so he could jump at a moment's notice. He was half surprised to find solid ground beneath his feet, but he was more just relieved. He could fight on solid ground, in minimal gravity?

It was a lot harder.

"Didn't I tell you!? You want me come and get it!!"

"Enough of your pathetic noises, you're much too loud," a low, smooth voice calls from behind the convict. With a quick spin Simon found himself face to face with...himself? Or at least, his face looked like his. But he seemed a bit younger, somewhere in his twenties compared to Simon's near thirties. His hair was shorter, straight and slicked back on the top yet short all around the sides. He had a perfectly pressed white three piece suit,and a clean, black silk button up underneath his vest and coat.

The strangest part of this look-a-like was he was completely void of color. He was a strange monochrome skin tone, an unnatural gray with black shadows that somehow seemed to shift and change. Even the scene behind him, once white, was now pitch black. Though there was a sort of...mass moving around in the void. It was hard to pinpoint. But there was a spot deep in the void that seemed to catch just the tiniest fragment of light. It felt like it was staring at him

Simon tightened his hold on his knife, muscles tensing as he readied himself for an attack.

"Who the fuck are you?"

"Hmm," the other man hummed, refusing to answer the convict's question. Simon kept his eyes trained on the black and white man as he started to move. He stepped closer, earning a warning growl as Simon's lips curled into a snear, then started to circle, walking around the convict just steps away. He kept a distance but took in every detail of the on edge man.

He was observing, mentally scanning for strengths, and weaknesses.

Simon hated it. He hated being watched. Hated something he didn't understand staring at him with red, hungry eyes. He hated feeling so small despite the power he held.

Simon hated not being in control.

"At ease soldier. Your mission is complete. Unfortunately for you, those 'Gods' have taken an interest in you," the younger 'Simon' says in his strangely smooth voice. Had Simon's voice ever been that soft and smooth? He always thought of his voice as rough and crackly. He could appreciate this man's voice at least.

"G-Gods? That fish thing was a God," Simon shouted, his grip on his tang of his knife tightening as he lowered his hand slightly. He took a step back, which made the other man step forward. He couldn't stand feeling like prey.

"The Amalgamation? No, that was the aftermath of the God. No, the God was in that blood void. It called for you, but you so desperately wanted to live. A bit sappy for me, but I cant argue with a fellow dreamer."

That made him pause.

What did he mean 'fellow' dreamer?

The white suited man continued walking but for just a moment Simon could have sworn he saw something. Something seemed to split from the strange man. Two things to be precise. One on each side, red and blue. It looked like a still from a film or something like that. The image on the right was a young man, a gentle face and soft eyes. He stood holding his chest. The left image was a young woman. A simple black and white dress and a hat with some sort of veil. She stood with her hands covering her mouth, palms to her face while her eyes were closed. It felt like she was giving the famous 'see no evil, speak no evil', pose. She was simply missing the 'hear no evil' part.

Just as Simon opened his mouth, to ask about the split second of the two images, another man stood right in front of his face, a large pink handle bar mustache wiggling with the man's joy. His eyes were closed due to his wide, excited smile.

The convict jumped back, legs now straight as he leaned backwards, putting a bit more space between him and the brightly dressed man. He gripped his blade with both hands and pointed it forward, aiming to the other's neck.

"Oh a fellow knife user," the man shouted with a...an accent? A slur? It was hard to tell. He really wasn't good with accents. So few of them existed in Eden, or the C.O.I. combined. As the man spoke he used exaggerated movements and expressions, squishing his face on certain consonants while stretching on other vowels. As he did so it also happened to move his plush, thick pink mustache back and forth.

The pink mustached man had a somewhat similar haircut as the black and white man. The main difference was it was curly and fluffy looking. And it was dyed a bright light pink. It almost looked like cotton candy. To contrast the bright soft colors above, the man wore simple khaki pants with a bright pink shirt and black suspenders. There were at least other colors than pink in this mans outfit. Simon was thankful for that.

"Now Damien you simply can't hide the new friend from everyone! We simply have to show him around," he shouted as he turned his head to the other man. His arms were wide to his sides. In a way it was like he was offering a hug while also pointing at the dark earthy colored man.

Simon stared at the man in bewilderment.

This man was so bright and happy he didn't even care he had a trained killer with a knife pointed at his neck. He was in danger but he didn't care? Or, was he just that powerful? A dragon doesn't concern itself with small flees.

Simon's eyes quickly flicked behind the brigt haired man, staring at the other black haired man who had a tired, and sad, expression on his face. He had stopped walking. When had they all gone still?

"Wiliam please, some space for the man," 'Damien' says with an insinuating tone, shaking his head slightly with a tired yet affectionate expression. It was like he was trying to lead the other man into a decision or choice. Like he had seen this before and was trying to help the other make the right coice.

"Ah right, sorry ol' chap, just so excited t' finally meet ya," the pink haired man says with a close eyed, wide toothy smile.

'Meet me? What does that mean,' Simon thought to himself, expression turning more and more confused as he continued thinking about this man. His stance started deflating, relaxing as he pondered and looked between 'Wiliam' and 'Damien'.

"Big fan of your film, truly felt the sorrow and desperation of your wish, truly touching. No wonder they took interest in ya! Those Gods truly adore you, you have been touched. You got your freedom and life to live," the pink haired man says smiling, beaming as he talked about freedom so…freely.

How did he know Simon wanted to be free and to live? Who the hell was this man and the man behind him. And wait. Did he say Gods? Didn't that other guy mention those?

"H-how can a god love something so much it destroys them," Simon asks as his expression turned to anger once again. He couldn't make sense of this. Gods loved him? But he died. He's fucking dead! How could he be loved by some unknown god, possibly more than one, and yet die?!

"No, no boy, that god is different than our Gods. That creature could only see that one world. Our gods can see so much more, they've seen and done so much more than your god. To be honest there are so many gods it's best to just forget about them. No use in remembering pointless things like gods, or entities, or names. All a bunch of wish wash."

Simon completely lowered his knife, both hands wrapped around the tang of his blade which moved to be parallel to the floor. He was back to making a confused look as he looked between the other two men. How fast could this man switch between serious topics and being a strange chaotic man?

"William, enough. You said it yourself, 'little by little', I believe. We must introduce him to the others," 'Damien' says as he places a hand on the pink man's shoulder, who hummed before breaking into a loud, boisterous laugh. In a way it was almost infectious. Simon found himself subconsciously smiling too.

"Of course! Who has time for something as boring as gods. Let's go!"

Simon went rigid and stepped back. That term. Others? What Others?

"Before you panic Simon, it is not the Others you know of. These 'others' will understand you," 'Damian' says with a small bow of his head. That movement made Simon relax. In Eden it was a sign of acceptance and affection. It felt strange to see someone do that to him.

'Wiliam' smiled before turning around and walked away from Simon and 'Damien', arms behind his back as he started whistling. It was a familiar tune, something oddly…comforting, about the song. Then Simon blinked. And 'Wiliam' was gone.

Simon was about to speak, to shout for the man when 'Damien' stepped forward again and placed a hand on his shoulder. In an instant, the calm energy around them was gone, replaced by an uncomfortable and imposing energy. He wanted to move. To back away and put some space between him and the other, who was now right in front of him. He could feel something on his body, particularly around his throat, wrists and ankles. It was weirdly freezing feeling; so cold he couldn't bring himself to move.

"A word of advice Simon, do not refer to myself or Wilford as 'Damien' or 'Wiliam'. Wilford only allowes a select few to call him 'Wiliam', he is a broken soul. Calling for 'Wiliam' only leads to misfortune. I, myself, am something the others cannot truly know of. For their safety, they cannot know," this, Dark person explains. "Y-you're Dark, other guy is Wilford, got it," Simon says through clenched teeth and a stressed expression on his face. He was fighting off the fear that ran though his body. He was completely defenseless like this. Held completely still by an unknown creature, its hold clearly and firmly around his neck, his weakest point. Of course he couldn't move. He suddenly has a second life, he wasn't about to risk losing this one too.

Dark was quiet for a while, his eyes looking…distant. For a moment at least. Then he had a pleased look on his face and the cold sensation disappeared. Simon shivered before letting a breath out he hadn't realized he was holding. He lifted his right hand to his throat, skin breaking into goosebumps, a delayed reaction. How often does that happen? This 'man' was dangerous. His gaze occasionally felt like that eye down in the ocean. What had they called it? A…god?

"I am sorry, I simply need you to understand. There is a lot you will have to learn and not much time. Wilford and I will do our best to assist." His stance was relaxed now, no longer tall and proper but a more…tired, form. His fingers seemed to twitch. Then the figures appeared again. The man was still holding his chest, but now he was clawing at it. His face was contorted in a mix of scream and cry of pain. The woman had her hands around her throat, eyes still closed but a pained and sorrow filled expression contorting her face.

In an instant, Simon's unease was replaced by an unbearable sorrow. The deep, desperate desire to live burning deep within his chest. A red hot fire that consumed his being, yet a deep, small yet powerful sorrow reside beside it. The sorrow of never getting to live his life. To never be free and finally live. More than just survive.

Tears filled his eyes as he struggled to breathe. It felt like he was going to suffocate.

Then the images were gone, and the pressure, anger and sadness suddenly disappeared.

Simon panted as he shook his head, his clawed hand going to his head as his face fell in shock and sympathy. That was both his own emotions, he knew those feelings and how they clung to him no matter what. But to that degree? That was something else. Someone else's emotions. He looked in the other man's eyes and saw the same rage and sorrow he had just felt.

They were so alike. So different yet, they were the same.

"Come Simon. We should get back before Wilford returns. We'll never leave this void with all the talking he'll be doing," Dark says with a tired yet affectionate smile, his eyes gently closed, relaxed and…natural. He looked…nice with a gentle face like that.

"We're off to Raspy Hill."

[nightfuryobsessed]

A little treat for my discord buddies

Mafia AU Simon

Warning: its a mafia au, gonna have some dark shit in here

The Butcher.

At first its just an ironic nickname. The sniper, the long range fighter being referred to by his polar opposite. Some people laugh.

They dont laugh for long.

Simon is a perfect shot, you wouldn't think so given hes blind in one eye but he hits every mark perfectly. He's dressed in black or grey; black pinstripe pants, a grey undershirt, black and blue vest, and a black trench coat. He thinks the trench coat is dumb but its what his master Boss wants so he wont argue.

His burn marks go from just above his hairline on the left side of his face down to his toes. His whole left arm and leg are burned, this gives him a limp and he's constantly aching and stretching his left side. His torso is mostly split in half burn wise, his back is almost completely scarred from burns but his right front side is still mostly clean skin. His right arm and leg are mostly fine, the tips of some toes and fingers are slightly burnt while some whole fingers and his pinkie toe and part of his instep are scarred but he learned how to walk and run just fine.

No matter where he goes, Simon wears a choker. It has two large black boxes, one with a green or red light and the other a cyan light that turns on or off. Most of the time he wears a specialty built muzzle, the metal that touches his skin is wrapped in silk, and it ties around his jaw and over his ears, but the center is just metal. He's been trained but he still fights back every so often. The muzzle was for when his medicine doesnt work right.

If an order to injure a target is given, he gets their Achilles tendon, perfectly tearing it so the target cant run. Sure they might have shrapnel in their leg now but who cares, thats how bullets are. They should be thankful to still be alive.

Or maybe not once he's done questioning. See he doesn't ask the questions, thats the job of anyone on schedule with a strong stomach.

He goes for fingernails first. One at a time, slowly peeling them off the bed of their fingers, then he rips them off. If they still dont talk, they often dont at this point, he pulls his switchblade from a slit he made in his vest and stabs in the center of the hand and palm. Then rips it forward. He does thay for both hands. He'll go for joints, dislocating them and carefully avoiding any veins. The order was for information, not death.

He goes for teeth too, if he cant use his, he'll take yours.

Only when the order comes in does he stop. Hes been well trained after all.

Then he'll end it. Clean through the throat, from the bottom of the jaw into the brain, or both eyes, if he leaves them.

-----

Simon has one moment where he's relatively civil. Every day, around noon, he'll go to the library and pray. He'll kneel, hands on his thighs and his head down.

He never misses the time to pray.

Someone tried talking to him during this time. When they finally drugged him pulled him off they couldnt tell who the person was.

They learned quickly to never mess with him during his prayer.

----

Simon knows he wont be around forever; he knows too much. He plans an escape but never attempts it. Where would he go? The Boss knows where he is because of the collar, he can easily shock or drug him when ever he wanted. So Simon remains a loyal dog. Ripping and slicing anyone he was ordered to. He stands tall, thats what Boss wants, and he shows no emotion; never speaking. He would remain loyal, and if the day comes where they ask for his head...maybe that will be the day he fights to live.

[gunsandfireandshit]

[gunsandfireandshit]

[gunsandfireandshit]

Cannot emphasize enough that this was a 100% real ad that I saw just now

[nightfuryobsessed]

Selkie Simon

I came up with this idea in an Iron Lung server and it seems to be a big hit so y'all get to enjoy it too. A short drabble while I slowly work on my other fics.

Word count: 1913

Eden is meant to be a safe haven for 'half breeds', those who aren't quite human, but not quite animal. Simon enters at eight years old with his mother, an older tired selkie. One day his mom disappeared, leaving Simon in the care of Father and Eden. His mother hadn't taught him everything about his coat, just that he mustn't let anyone take it away from him or he could never return home.

He isn't taught that his coat is the reason he can shift into his ringed seal form. He wasn't taught that being without his coat would take away his voice and health.

All Simon knew was his coat was important and a gift from his mother.

Eden believes that all shifters powers come from The Last Tree. The Tree has memories of all animals that once lived on Earth, and in turn, every single inhabited, or previously inhabited, planet.

"Shifters are blessed with powers, they are given by The Last Tree," Eden taught. "You must return your coats and for those without coats you must sleep by The Tree. You must eat and Feed The Last Tree."

Simon flinched when they asked for his coat, his instincts saying it wasn't right. He shouldn't let go of his precious coat. But he was just a child who didn't know better.

So the boy gave away half of his soul and his voice.

He watched as the Elders hung the cloaks in The Tree's branches, surrounding them and protecting them.

The Children may only receive their coats when it was time to Hunt, Feast, or Save Others. Any other time, especially in Eden itself, no one had their coats.

No one had voices here.

When the Children are given their coats they were told to not break any branches of The Tree. Some Children don't listen and break a branch.

That week there's less food. The Hunters couldn't find enough food.

A kid shakes it off as just coincidence. They break another branch. A kid gets hurt. They get so hurt they couldn't remember what happened.

Everyone became extremely careful with The Tree after that. They didn't want to hurt each other. They were the last few shape shifters after all.

_________

One day, Simon hears someone talk about the Fae.

They were mischievous creatures that stole children from their families, broke all technology, and stole everything they found interesting or fun. No one knew where the children were taken, or if they would ever come back.

To protect themselves, all Soldiers, even Children who were training, were given silver chains that are put around their wrists as 'fancy bracelets'. They have to keep it on them at all times.

After Filament station, Simon is captured and frisked and they discover the silver. Captain Ava walks up to the selkie and he can see her clearer. She has a scar over her eye and is missing a wing. The one wing she does have looks more like wire, thin and messy, connected in strange places and laid flat against her back.

Simon instinctively backs away from the Captain, lowering his head as a low growl leaves his throat.

The COI take this as a threat so Ava orders him to be stripped of his coat, not knowing that she was making things worse for themselves and Simon. They thought it would just make Simon upset and could be used as a bargaining chip.

'Do what we say and you can get it back.'

They don't understand that Simon is mute now.

No convict has a voice in prison.

They try to ask questions, to understand what Eden's goal was for destroying Filament Station.

Simon tries to tell them. To say that the explosion was an accident. No one was meant to die.

But he couldn't speak. He could only make whistling and grumbling noises. He tries so hard to make noises similar to any form of speech but he just can't.

So the COI start abusing him. He was speaking just fine before, he had shouted about it not being his fault. He was speaking! Why won't he speak anymore?! He must be hiding something.

They just have to pry it from him.

Eventually, after much frustration, Simon is given a small keyboard that eventually makes sentences. It's laggy, missing some keys, and the voice is annoying, which adds to Simon's frustration and grates his nerves.

This means that Simon has more lash outs, frustration with Filament, the stupid little sound board, no food he can properly eat, the cell is cold and dark, and he's so alone. He can feel that his coat was somewhere on the station, if he could just get to it.

He just needs his coat.

After three months Simon had started to severely dissociate, mind really only on his coat and swimming. He could feel that he was close to something he could swim in, some kind of 'ocean'. He wanted to be there.

To live and be free.

The COI believe that Simon has been subdued and decide to put him in the Iron Lung. He was a convict who was volatile, violent one moment, oddly silent the next. They couldn't risk putting him anywhere else.

At this point they had forgotten his coat. It was locked away somewhere safe. No one remembered.

Any time Simon is in radio range, he'll hold his speaking keyboard up to the speaker, asking about his coat and when he would be free.

After enough asking, they get fed up and shout, 'yes you will get your stupid coat and freedom if you just shut up and get this job done!'

Easier said than done.

Even though its not a real ocean it still has the same effect for selkies. Simon wants to swim and be free, to have his coat and just swim. He hasn't swam since he was a kid on Mars. The call gets stronger the longer he's in the ocean, but especially strong when he's deeper below.

At one point, after being deep below and searching for the points of interest, Ava gets back in contact with Simon. He asks her about the silver, if it really hurt her or if it was just lies he was fed his whole life.

That's when Ava starts to feel something. Maybe not full sympathy yet, but a pang of regret. This man was lost, lost in the ocean but also all these lies from Eden...and now the COI.

Finally she asks.

"What is the coat? Why is it so important to you?"

The rest of the crew had stepped out, some needing food, others decided they had to pee, and one just so tired they needed to sleep. It was a moment that was just between Ava and Simon.

It's quiet for a while, every so often there will be clicking or growls but it was mostly just very soft clicks of keys.

[I don't know what exactly it is], the robotic voice says after a time. [I've had it since before I can remember. It's warmth. It's comfort. It's the comforting hold of family. It's part of who I am, I don't know exactly where it is but I can feel it. It's above me, it's safe but it's out of reach. I don't care what happens to me, I can be locked up, isolated and forgotten about. Just please, give me back my coat.]

Ava is quiet, her hands tremble but she curls her fingers and makes a fist. Then there's a bit more from the convict.

[Without the coat selkies go mad. We can't go home, we can't eat the same foods humans do. We can't shift to heal, the children can't play. Without our coats we're just half of ourselves. We need to be whole.]

Ava takes a shaky breathe turning away from the speaker as she thinks about what she can do to help. She did this. She gave the order to strip him of his coat, to send him into the blood ocean. But she had orders. She couldn't bring him back up.

Ava couldn't get Simon his coat.

She can't free him.

"When I was younger," she started, startling the selkie below. He stared up at the speaker, confused about what was happening, what she was talking about. "I fell in love with a human. He said that he loved me, that he wouldn't leave me behind or hurt me."

Ava took in a breathe, hand shaking as she thought about her first love. The one who tried to kill her.

"He lied. He got silver, something that burns Fae, in ancient times it was the only thing that could kill us. He used it to bind me, my arms were tied to my body, a blindfold was on my eyes and...he stole my wing. Fae wings could be sold for an enormous price. It burned so badly, I could feel the silver eat away at my soul. I couldn't stop bleeding. I couldn't let him take my other wing, so I fought."

Ava was crying, it was gentle and hard to hear. It sounded like both sobbing and gentle weeping, cries of anger, and cries of agony.

"The silver burned by eye and chest, I can't see very well and I sometimes have trouble breathing...but I'm at least alive."

Simon listened to the story, heart heavy and feeling a connection to the story. They both had a piece of them stolen from them, but at least they were alive. For now.

Simon blinked and took steady, deep breathes. He looked around and behind him, trying to understand where he was. He saw a storm above him and what seemed like roots in the slightly transparent blood below his feet.

He turned forward again and noticed a giant eye, then heard a voice.

'Join us,' it called, speaking in a language he didn't know, but instinctively understood. 'Join us and be free of pain and suffering. Come Child of the Sea, shed your human form and swim with your Brothers.'

Simon opened his mouth, tears coming to his eyes as his coat, a familiar black and grey fur coat floated towards him. A cloak made of seal fur, large and warm, just for Simon.

The selkie reached out, nearly touching the fur when his instincts started screaming at him.

'This isn't our coat,' they screamed. This wasn't Simon's other half. Then he looked down at his right arm, at the pendant that floated just below the blood.

This wasn't real.

This coat isn't his coat.

Simon wakes up in the SM-13, more determined to live and get back to his coat and be free.

When Ava comes down she's panicked but tells Simon that she has his coat.

"Simon, you have to keep going! I have your coat," she screamed, drawing the selkie's attention and making him more determined than ever to get to the Fae. "I have it right here next to me! Get out of there and I'll give it and your freedom!"

They almost make it, Ava's sub is gone but Simon can feel that he's getting closer to his coat, he's getting higher and the black box is secured in the life vest.

Simon tries to somehow get out of the submersible, trying to get out the port hole, but of course he can't. He's just a human right now.

He's not whole.

[nightfuryobsessed]

The Sergeant and the Convict (PT 1)

C.O.I Reader x Simon

This story will be mostly gender neutral with a few exceptions, chapters that require very gendered language/descriptions will be marked as (fem)reader

Summary: Most of the COI believed that the Edenites were nothing but killers and religious fanatics. But when a hard headed Sergeant is tasked with watching The Butcher of Eden, who could predict how they'd end?

Story warnings/triggers (may or may not be in this first chapter): sexism, 'racism', prejudice, body horror, torture, experimentation on humans, murder, blood, bones, descriptions of mutilation, eye horror, needles

Please let me know if there are any triggers I missed, this list will be updated as the fic continues

"How old is he? Any injuries from his capture," they ask in a monotone voice as they walked through the halls of the COI holding cells. They fixed their shirt, flattening it against their stomach and tried to ignore the whistling the movement earned them.

"Damn dogs," they growled under their breath.

"Not sure what exactly his age is but he should be roughly in his later twenties. No visible injuries besides a busted lip. Can't say the same for our soldiers," a man responds, flipping through what little information he had on the new face.

"Where was he caught?"

"Filimant Station. He was the only Bastard of Eden we could find alive. The other cowards died in the reactor explosion."

They couldn't help but flinch at that phrase. Bastards of Eden. It was like a cult, or more likely it absolutely was one, and had all the children call each other Brother. Their leader was called Father and he was the only one who could marry and have children.

That was all the COI knew about them so far.

That was all the Sons of Eden would share, even with torture.

In a way it was admirable, they were so close and cared so much about each other that they refused to give out any information on each other. Then again it could just be how they were trained.

They found themselves in front of a lone, solid door. Towards the top center of the door was a small sliding blind. Pulling it open they saw a man kneeling on his knees, arms tied behind his back and head low, his hair covering his face. He was bloodied and bruised. Some of it came from his own injuries, but the amount of blood said that he had taken a few people out before the COI brought him in.

"Name," they question, directing the question to their cadet who stood behind them nervously. Something was different about this convict, he wasn't just an Edenite.

"He's called The Butcher, that's all we know about him."

They paused and turned back to the cadet who was fumbling and shuffling through the few papers he had. Poor boy was flustered and was bad at hiding it.

"Cadet, at ease," they say softly, moving and putting a gentle hand on his shoulders. He paused and took a breath before searching through the files he had, lifting up a headshot of the convict inside.

He had a smaller forehead with thinner but dense eye brows. He had small, mono-lid eyes, a wider nose with a higher ridge. He had thin lips and the beginnings of a beard and mustache that didn't quite connect.

If he was a part of the COI, he would be handsome and wouldn't be in the cold dark cell all by himself.

"He killed five of our guys are once. He seems to know a lot about people's weak points. Fitting for a Butcher."

They rolled their eyes, at the nickname before turning to look at the man. He hadn't moved. It was hard to see him breathing but the slight movement of his hair gave away his ragged breathing.

"What's the extent of his injuries?"

The cadet paused and looked up at his higher up. Most of the COI guards didn't care about this convict. They actively despised the man.

"Um..he doesn't have any broken bones," they say in a questioning tone, unsure what exactly they were asking for. The doctors felt over the man and didn't feel any breaks in bones. They just didn't do an x-ray, they couldn't spend that limited radiation on some murderer.

They hummed in response then turned back to the cadet and crossed their arms over their chest, lost in thought for a time.

The cadet knew this side of their sergeant. They often got lost in their thought and went silent. So he simply moved to stand on the other side of the door and planted his feet, shoulders square and back straight. What ever the sergeant was planning should be fine.

_______

"Sergeant are you sure about this," the cadet asks in a hushed tone, shuffling the supplies in his arms. A suture kit, gauze, and tape. The doctors hadn't patched up the convict, would it be ok for them to do it?

"At ease cadet, it will only be me entering the room," they respond as they searched through the keys on the key holder. All of the keys were at some level of reflective except one. It was rusted and dull with chips in the head of the key.

They couldn't help but roll their eyes as they pushed the key into the lock, giving it a twist and took a half step inside the cell. They turned their upper half and grabbed the supplies from the cadet's arms. They pulled it close to their core and smiled at the cadet.

They walked into the room, leaving the door open about a quarter of the way, letting the hall light into the room and onto the convict. He still hadn't moved.

With a concerned expression, they put down the supplies on the floor, between their and the convict's knees. They gently moved his hair out of his face and looked over him. A cut on his nose and eyebrow. A busted lip and a deep stab wound near his collar bone. There was more injuries but the sooner they cleaned the small ones the sooner they can work on the more intense ones.

They grabbed a piece of gauze and poured some isopropyl alcohol onto it then lifted it to the man's face. They watched in concern as the man failed to respond. Did they knock him out with blunt force? Did they check if he had a concussion?

As they worked on cleaning the wounds, they could hear the cadet shuffle around on his feet. He normally was perfectly still so they knew they had to work quickly.

They carefully thread the thick needle, moving to the mans right side and prepared to stitch the large gash that ran from his shoulder down to the crook of his elbow.

They pushed the sharp metal into the man's skin and the few severed muscles, then pushed the needle out the other side. They turned a bit to search for the forceps, which they hadn't thought of until now when suddenly they saw movement in the left corner of their eyes.

Time moved slowly.

They were in danger.

They turned their body, pulling out a small surgical knife from the supplies. They raised their arm in a stabbing motion, fear taking control, as they gripped the thin handle tightly in their hand. They could suddenly reach the convict's neck and chest, if they stabbed in the right spot it'd be over quickly.

They weren't fast enough.

They tried to suck in a breath but soon found the convicts right leg had wrapped around their throat and arm, essencially wrapping their own arm around their throat. They instinctively dropped the knife as they tried to claw at the man's leg.

They couldn't help but cough once their chest hit the ground. They choked as they continued clawing at the mans leg, trying to dig their nails deep into his skin to get him to let go.

They felt a knee on their back, heavy and right on their spine. They let out a choked growl before moving their free hand to the floor, reaching and searching for the surgical knife, unintentionally knocking it out of their reach.

Their vision was getting blurry and dim, if they didn't act fast they'd suffocate.

They tried calling out to the cadet, tried to shout that they were in danger but no sound left their throat. A weak rasping was all that could be heard.

Their hand moved back to the convict's leg, weakly trying to pry it off somehow. They let out a weak whimper as their hand slowed and stopped digging into the mans calf. Their vision was a small dot.

Then it was gone.

Then there was a grunt and a thud and the pressure around their throat was gone.

The young sergeant gasped and moved their hands to their throat, coughing and choking on the air that rushed through their lungs. They could barely hear the cadet talking to them. They were pulled to stand and lean against the young man who carried them out of the room.

They stole a glance at the convict as they left, he lay on his chest, arms still cuffed behind his back and his head rest just in front of the first aid that was now abandoned.

What the hell was this man?

[nightfuryobsessed-art]

A late night, very tired doodle with some buddies in a vc. Been a while since I laughed so much during a sleep over /j

Everyone in the vc decided that we're little voices laughing and taunting Simon while he tries to go through the horrors down below. We were mostly talking about his Si-tties <^<

[nightfuryobsessed-art]

A creature created by corrupt need to live and survive. This weakened God aims to wipe out the remaining corrupt humanity. Starting with the ones who sent them to his Ascension.

An unknown age, this God aims to get in the way of The Light and The Amalgamation, which he damaged but did not kill.

His teeth are curved towards the back of his throat, much like a snake's teeth. His tongue has ridges much like a penguin's to keep food down and stop food from escaping.

Just be careful putting your arm near his mouth, he's a very hungry boy and he may not stop at the arm~

[nightfuryobsessed-art]

Not his finished design but more will come out soon. I can only draw so much on the phone.

This was made before I designed Simon's eyes so imagine the light looking more like snake eyes/slits

Also textured tongue based more like penguins, those ridges are hardened and keep things from getting out. Careful putting your arm near him, he may want a nibble, and hes starving~

Updated design found here

[nightfuryobsessed-art]

A small sketch/doodle for personal reference, clean up/proper comparison soon

[the-convict-of-blood]

Son of Eden Pt 1

Summary: my headcannon for Simon and what it was like growing up on Eden. This is fan fiction so if you don't like it, just skip it, go enjoy other writer's stuff, they deserve love <3

Next Part: WIP

This story will have blood, gore, violence, violence against women, cult behavior, religious abuse, and descriptions of physical and mental injuries

Simon was eight when his mother told him. They would be joining Eden.

He didn't know much about Eden. Just that they had the last tree in the world. He was kinda excited to see a tree.

At first everything was fine. New faces, other kids, some older adults, the the Father. An older man who treated all the kids with love and warmth. It was impossible not to fall for the sweet words. Simon's father had died when he was four. He didn't really remember him anymore.

The Father fed him well, spent time with him, shared stories. But biggest of all, Father let Simon see The Last Tree. The room was so big, and the ceiling had oh so many stars. So many more than he could see from Mars. There were no lights from other people, the small towns that were colonized.

It was just space.

And The Tree.

One day, Simon suddenly looked around the cafeteria, lowering his spoon as he did so. He had just realized he hadn't seen his mom. He was so busy exploring and making new friends these past few weeks. He already forgot when they last ate together. Wasn't it just yesterday? Or was it a week ago?

Simon put down his food and stood to leave. He had to find his mom, he had to say sorry for forgetting her. He could even show her around, she would probably like it.

As he wondered around, searching for his mother, the young boy literally ran into Father.

"Ah my Son," the cheery man said smiling. Simon couldn't help the smile that came to his face.

"I was looking for my mom. I wanted to have dinner with her!"

Father was quiet for a moment before humming and kneeling down to the boy's level. He gently pat the boy's head, ruffling his hair a bit as he lifted his hand.

"Forgive me Son, I've been having my Wives take care of her. She's been tired recently, it happens to everyone who joins. Don't worry Son, I'll make sure you and her get to have a meal together."

About a month later, after Simon had already started school, he got to have dinner with his mom. He was so happy he didn't notice the vacant look in her eyes. Or that her smile didn't reach her eyes.

The boy rambled about what he was learning in school. Math and history. He liked history because it talked about The Tree. The Tree was alive, always growing, never dying. It would always be around.

Father always let him visit The Tree, always at night, just the two of them.

He didn't notice when he stopped seeing his mother. When he asked, he was told she was sick.

After two months, Simon asked again.

She has a contagious disease, she has to be quarantined. But there are other people who have it too. They won't get more sick so they're just together to keep each other company.

Men can't get the disease.

Only Father wouldn't get sick. He always talked to The Contaminated and wouldn't get sick or have any of the symptoms.

Another month; she's still sick. But Father is helping her, trying to help her get better. He was able to do that. He could take away pain, he can heal bones, he can restore their sight.

If you wait, maybe she'll get better.

Another month; she's still sick.

....

The 9th month.

Simon was doing well in school. He was learning math, science, how to read a map, the stars, and how to care for The Tree. He was excelling, perfect grades. Father was proud.

His mother was still sick, but she was doing better. She was just well enough to write a letter for him. He had read it late at night, so many times that the paper was already starting to wear out. She still wrote in their language. He still thought in their language despite speaking in English.

Simon couldn't share his language with anyone else, he forgot too many English words to teach it. So for now it was just their secret code.