#*posts this then retreats back into the void for a bit*

[good-beanswrites]

Just wanted to plant an idea if you wanted a bit of fuel: Mahiru asking Yuno to come to her cell before everything goes down.

Edit: I forgot the ask didn't say it but this is part of Kyanako's incredible Order Of Attack AU!

Didn't mean for this to become a mini Mappi study but here we are ✨ Thank you for the request! I fully intended to write them hanging out, but it's more right before they hang out lol. Went a bit on-the-nose with foreshadowing, but isn't that the fun part? It has become Emotional Over Mahiru Hour...

I kept things vague, but TW for mentioning her boyfriend's state of potential self-harm

Mahiru tried not to act superstitious, she really did. As much as she loved the idea of little luck charms, or avoided easy signs of misfortune, it was easier to keep quiet about such ridiculous things.

Maybe catching a bride’s bouquet meant no guarantees; maybe there was no real harm in stepping underneath ladders, maybe a coin tossed into a fountain had no real magic to its wish. However, the one thing she knew for sure held power was a lucky presence. Being in the right place at the right time could alter everything. And today was the right time for something. There was this waiting in the air. The prison had been holding its breath. Mahiru knew it was time to release it all.

“You must be so lonely, why don’t you let big sis Mahiru keep you company?” She beamed at Amane.

She often recalled the good fortune that she and a certain young man had crossed paths on the university terrace. She used to laugh with him about the wonderful coincidence of bumping into each other outside of the bakery, then the convenience store. 

Though she’d never spoken about it to him, she was also grateful for many occasions where she walked in on him at the precise moment to talk him out of something reckless. She always told him that they’d do everything together. He didn’t need to be alone anymore. 

“I wish to be alone. I need peace of mind to think.” Amane turned away from the cell door.

It was a good thing, too. Mahiru’s smile wasn’t as convincing as she said, “o-oh. Of course.”

She made her way around the panopticon, hearing Fuuta pace his cell in anticipation. He must have felt it too, this holding of breath. 

Or perhaps not. He turned down her offer for a bit of company, including a few more colorful words than Amane had. Mahiru just apologized for bothering him and headed back to her cell. She wasn’t sure where Mikoto was at this hour, but she didn’t feel like smiling through a third rejection.

She shook her head back and forth. She wished the motion could rattle the voices inside, she wished she could shake them all away. With her arms secured in place she could no longer cover her ears. She used to hum to keep them at bay, but lately they’d been too loud to stifle. They just kept on talking.

Their words told her the two were right. Nobody needed her company. No – nobody wanted it. Being together hadn’t helped her boyfriend. In fact, being together had been the very thing that got him killed. No wonder Amane and Fuuta wanted to avoid her. 

So then, this was for the best. She would rather deal with the brief sting of refusal than stumble in one day to find them hurt… or worse. As much as she tried to avoid the superstition of it all, the voices reminded her that her very presence could mean life or death. 

“Mappi, are you alright?” Mahiru hadn’t realized a tear had slipped down her cheek until she hurried to swipe it away in front of Yuno. 

“Hah, I’m fine! Just fine.” It was impossible to fool her, Mahiru had learned, but that never stopped her from trying. 

At least she always spoke tactfully. “Rough morning?”

Mahiru shifted her arms in her uniform, making a small sound of agreement.

“Can I do anything to help? What if I stay with you for a bit? I can do your hair, and…”

The voices were right. Amane and Fuuta knew it, too. Presences did hold power, and Mahiru’s was cursed.

But she would sound foolish admitting such a fear to Yuno. She'd heard plenty from the voices about how stupid and airheaded she was, there was no use in getting the same lecture from someone as grounded as her.

Mahiru managed a weak protest, unable to explain her real reasoning. Yuno was insistent. She didn’t give much of a choice. Could she feel the strangeness of the prison, as well? 

At last, Mahiru allowed her shoulders to sag. Yuno was lucky. And kind. Having her nearby would do her good. Amane and Fuuta would be alright. Mahiru had tried spending more time with them after verdicts were announced. Now, she made a mental note to pull back. If her love couldn’t save anyone, at least she could spare them from her curse. They would be safe. 

“Yes. Please stay. The truth is... I don't want to be alone.”

[radiance1]

@puppetmaster13u You called Danny a space whale in the tags of one of this post.

Now what if that was literal?

Hear me out, Danny outlives his friends, parents, sister. Danny becomes a literal whale.

Well, not a literal one because he's a ghost, but he takes the shape one of at the very least. He's just a giant, glowing white whale that looks pretty divine not going to lie.

Danny leaves earth. It wasn't safe for him anymore, what with the GIW and all that as even the ghosts found it not even worth anymore to visit the mortal world.

Except for Desiree and Spectra, but that's besides the point.

But Danny doesn't retreat to the zone, he's always longed for space, but because of his new half humanness he doesn't get believe he could've ever gone because, well. Yea.

But Danny goes fuck it and goes anyway. His form shifts from human to that of a giant whale, and he swims out into the vastness of space.

Years pass, and Danny does start getting bigger as he aged. He explored the vastness of space, marveling at many things, the different planets, the stars, the formations of rock and other things.

Then he encounters someone he never though he would've.

Vlad.

Well, he knew Vlad was left behind in space by his father but he didn't think he would find him again and Vlad seemed... different, from what he remembered.

For one thing, he didn't even know where Vlad began and space ended. He got only see those red eyes that even hinted at it being the man. His body was void black and filled with stars upon stars, all glittering from his body and Vlad barely even seemed to notice him, or if he did, he didn't seem to care at all.

So, Danny took him.

He was both curious and felt a bit bad about what happened to Vlad, even if he didn't know exactly what happened, and he couldn't just leave him there either.

So on his back Vlad went, and his travels continued.

It seemed to be the correct decision, really, because slowly overtime Vlad seemed to be regaining his awareness. Then slowly, tentatively, started to speak with him through ghost speak.

Vlad only seemed to vaguely remember what he was before space. He remembered hating a man, loving a woman, wanting a son, loneliness and a boy with white hair and toxic green eyes.

Even though Vlad was his former enemy, his nemesis, and someone who took the world hostage.

He couldn't help but feel pity for him.

Then their travels continued.

Years pass unnoticed, when in space, with Danny slowly getting bigger and bigger as the two travel throughout. They've come into contact with various civilizations, some hostile, some peaceful, some neutral.

The hostile ones never lasted long, even if Danny never lifted a flipper to do anything most of the time, Vlad made sure of it.

They came at went as they pleased, and Danny believes that they've gained a bit of a reputations over their adventures, but neither he nor Vlad knew exactly what they said. It did prove useful in some cases, however.

A few more years, and Danny feels that this system is vaguely familiar. Which happens sometimes, considering he's been travelling for so long. He then finds out why it was so familiar.

He came across Earth and, oh. When was the Earth so small?

Well, not small really, but when was he just only a bit smaller than it?

Did it shrink when he was away? Or did he just grow?

That doesn't matter though. What does, is the fact that currently seemed to be an invasion going on, on his home planet thank you very much. He did not like the fact that there was a massive fleet parked right outside his home.

So he spoke to Vlad, expressed his displeasure, Vlad responded back knowingly and went off to make the source of his displeasure disappear. That doesn't Danny was idle either, the fleet was big and, well.

It's been a while since he's stretched himself in a fight.

[tadc-harlequin-au]

Okay I all seriousness I’m confused. It’s seems like in one post you indicate the cast were just puppets in their past life and then in others you indicate they had human lives?

What is it?

Are they just tempering what the souls powering them remember?

If so Then is the twist that Caine is the only successful human turned puppet???

... Looks like I need to do a little bit of a Puppet 101

I specifically said these Puppets were powered by soul FRAGMENTS, of "VOLUNTEERS". That means they were ACTUAL PEOPLE ONCE.

👏THEY 👏 WERE 👏 USING 👏 PEOPLE'S 👏 SOULS 👏 FOR 👏 FREE 👏 LABOR 👏 AND IT'S A LITERAL METAPHOR💀

I've been trying to *wink wink nudge nudge* people so hardly and subtly saying just how bad it was LMFAO THIS AU IS GRIMDARK FOR A REASON

Those soul fragments are by extension, ALSO their memories, and traces of their former humanity. I also said that the more they explore these aspects of themselves, the more they can feel; alluding to the fact they are, in fact, once again REGAINING THEIR LOST HUMANITY, when they got turned into Puppets.

These guys undergo drastic changes not just spiritually or mentally, but also physically. (which is also why I said they have weird bodies)

There's also another thing that I should disclose, that has existed since I wrote "Come back to me" on ao3. I didn't want to reveal it too early, but if it's to clear up your confusion, I'll throw a bone.

Caine is just as much of a puppet as everyone else was either, but since he's become more... "enlightened", he's become a half-organic, half-metallic being; a side effect of rediscovering your humanity to the some extent.

(He has done it to the fullest)

The soul energy keeps getting pumped to every corner of a Puppet's body, and in turn, the energy --once it has familiarized the body-- transforms some of the very structure of what makes a Puppet function into a more organic, but black-tendril tentacle-like structure (but will retreat back to the die heart if the base body is damaged enough). You can see it with Caine on his face, neck and tongue.

(If you've ever wondered WHY his face and neck are always shrouded in black, it's because it IS black. it's like a reverse Venom concept lmao)

His soul EVOLVED to better conform to his "new" form, but it's not the kind of evolution he wishes.

And YOU can also see it with the Statues, too! Which makes their case even worse! :D

And another thing is; The bosses ALSO have these aspects that Caine has too. Why?

Because a puppet's insanity has the same effect, but more drastic, uncontrollable, and dangerous. It's the worse end of the spectrum, as enlightenment is to madness. This is why some of the bosses have become larger than life, or rather, larger than their classification should be.

But thankfully this is reversible by making them spend a little alone time and recollecting their bearings on a peaceful little plane called "The void" while they're dead ✌️😊

I do hope this clears up some of the confusion surrounding the topic of Puppets, I got too absorbed by the worldbuilding I forgot to include "biology" (or Puppetology ig LMFAO 💀💀).

As of this current moment in the roster, no one's really reached the the first stage of enlightenment yet.

EDIT: Actually, Gangle has, by all technicalities of her existence as a Puppet lol but aside from that, NO ONE has YET

[yuri-is-online]

And Your Name Is? (Malleus and Ace)

Synopsis- After successfully resolving whatever was causing NRC to be trapped in an endless time loop of overblotting and disaster, one last reset should give him a chance to experience a normal school year with you. But instead you find yourself trapped in the here and there, appearing as a vague shadow around the school that vanishes as soon as he catches up to you. The kind thing to do would be to allow you to be forgotten in the chance it lets you return to your world.

But this is Twisted Wonderland where the kind thing is seldom done, and he wants you back as much as you want to find him again.

a/n: The first version of this can be found on my masterlist here (x) . I have been thinking of a million scenarios for each of the boys because I am real attached to this sort of trope and will probably write more in the future.

notes: they/ them pronouns used for Yuu, angst with the intent of comfort. Everyone in this post is a wee bit pathetic but then these two kinda are. The love triangle of all time I tell you /j

Malleus Draconia

Malleus is a king, his rule is absolute and his word commands the reality around him.  Literally sometimes, it would appear, as he looks up longingly at the ramshackle window.  A shape flickers there, one he has flown to greet many times before.  For memories that don’t exactly belong to him they are vivid, the shape and feel of your hand weighs heavy in his as he wills himself to remain on the ground; there is no guarantee the night sky will remain cloud free if he is forced to watch you disappear now.  He used to think the thought of a power beyond him laughable, but when he sees you now, this strange colorless void that refuses to fully leave his world, he is almost certain that there must be.  There must be some divine force in the world that is punishing him for his hubris in thinking that he could stop the wheel of time; punishing him for refusing to treasure the time he had to spend with you and thinking he could spend your life as he pleased.

It was ironic really, how powerless he felt when you disappeared from view.  Like you were the god and he was the child of man groveling at your feet for a chance at salvation.  An introspective part of him wonders if this is how his people see him; it is most displeased with how little he cares, all regalia abandoned at the foot of a human that cannot be saved with any magic he can weave.

“Lilia says I should see this as practice for when you are older.”  His guardian had decided to be considerate of his feelings when he came to him for advice.  If Lilia had been acting only as an advisor, it hurts his heart to think of what he would have said.  “I wonder, would you prefer me if I was human?  Would this be easier, could I have made you stay?”  You do not immediately appear to reassure him, no one does.  He supposes no one could, Malleus Draconia is not above wishing for things despite what Sebek might think.  A light layer of frost covers the walls of the old mansion, it is becoming harder to focus on the stars.  “It is cruel of me to wish to keep you here with me, children of men do not belong trapped in the dark; but what a sight you would be.”  He can picture you clearly, time is cruel but this re-set timeline is much crueler.  Your face and the sound of your voice are still his to cherish, but he has no pictures or records to refresh his memory when it inevitably begins to fail.  

“Tsunotarou?”  Yes, the frost begins to retreat as he resigns himself to his grief, that is what your voice sounded like.  Someone reaches to touch his face, and to his surprise he allows them.  Yes, he takes in a deep breath that goes on for so long it almost hurts him, this is your scent, your appearance filling his vision and blocking the stars from view.  “You look so lonely.”  And you look so confused, but more importantly you look unafraid as he takes your hands from his face and intertwines your fingers.

“And if I am?”  He tries to give you a charming smile, one that he knows will only work on his family and you.

“Then…”  you look confused, like you are searching his face and recognizing him but unaware of what you are looking for.  “If you are my Tsunotarou, then I wouldn’t want you to be lonely.”

“Then stay.”  Stay here and keep him company until you are nothing but the dust you were born from and allow him to stay by the side of your grave forevermore.

Ace Trappola

This was unfair.  Infuriatingly, ridiculously, beyond merely mildly unfair.  Ace had never been more enraged with the way things work at Night Raven College.  “The strong bow to the weak” his ass, how many of these housewardens (and Jamil) bowed to you only to dismiss your current status as not their problem?  It was their fault, and as far as Ace was concerned they were well beyond needing to take responsibility for their actions.  He had no problem telling you as much, pretending the way you were constantly out of his reach was not his problem.  That it didn’t bother him to run after you for hours, chasing you down hallways, through the rose maze, anywhere you went Ace Trappola followed.  If you were not made of memories and mist it would be just like it was before.  You went and he followed, if it would bring you back to life he’d crawl.  Riddle had said his behavior was unbefitting of a card soldier.  Ace had told him he was one to talk.

And just like that he was back on a couch in Ramshackle, a collar around his neck he swore up and down didn’t belong.  But you were not here to see it.

“Honestly, who does Riddle think he is?”  He grumbles as if you could respond, sometimes he swears you do.  Deuce thinks he is losing his mind, Riddle probably does too.  They might be back in the past, but Riddle remembers his mistakes and what little growth he’d squeezed from the stone cold loop of time.  He is strict, but seldom tyrannical, if Ace wasn’t in the middle of a spiral he would be willing to acknowledge his housewarden’s willingness to try and help you.  “Hey-” the door doesn’t open for you when you appear, Ace doesn’t think you can interact with objects the way a ghost can but that doesn’t stop him from talking to you like you are one.  “Bet this looks familiar.  Honestly, how many times am I going to have to show up like this before you let me take the bed?  I’m super skinny and you’re not- you’re not there.”  Memory isn’t like a video Ace can replay, but from the timelines he’s spent chasing after you he is almost certain this shade of yours is simply following an echo of your routine.  It has a set path, if he gets too close you will evaporate from view, but still he reaches when you approach, praying that this time his hand will find purchase.  “Just what is it you wanna hear huh?”  He finds something, cold and slightly wet like this shimmery shape is made of melting ice.  “That I didn’t think you would be my type because I already knew you were?  That when I said what was really important was finding someone you could laugh with I thought of your face?  That I’m a coward who couldn’t reject a girl he didn’t like and who couldn’t face it when he saw what he actually wanted?”

“I want Ace.”  He feels it more than hears it, as much as he wants to smile and hide behind himself Ace Trappola is smart enough to know he can’t.  Not this time, he has to watch you fill in your outline, eyes unhurried and unfocused but locked solely on him.  If he doesn’t watch you come to he will never believe he is looking at you again.  “I want to stay with Ace.”  Your arms are around his neck pushing him back onto the couch with a thunk and he wraps himself as much around you as he can.   “Just what am I going to do with you?”  He tries to laugh but between the collar and you it’s hard to breathe, but he can’t bring himself to move.  “I guess I’ll have to make you happy for the rest of your life.”

[outpost51]

July Camp 2024

(stolen from @void-botanist mwah)

Goals:

Fully plot out The Arsonist Chronicles. Right now it’s sort of a vague skeleton with a few scenes here and there but I really need something more concrete if I’m ever gonna have a hope of finishing it

Character sketches. Do it bad, right? At the very least I need to pull the main players out of my head (and there are a lot).

Post more worldbuilding. There’s so much going on and I put so much work into it.

It would be reeeeeally nice to get some momentum back on my wips but with seasonal depression starting to rear its ugly head, I think it’s more reasonable to focus on fleshing out the outline. I’ve retreated quite a bit back into my shell, too; hermit time IRL usually equates to hermit time online, and neither is helping the agoraphobia (is digital agoraphobia a thing?) improve.

Taglist: @sparatus @thetrashbagswasteland

Lmk in the replies if you want to be tagged in too.

Want a group setting? Maybe something a little less public than tumblr? Come fry some rice with us.

[aching-tummies]

Citrus Latte

(In terrible 90's commercial cheese-y announcer) Back, for a limited time!

Jokes aside, I've been slowly getting settled into my new life. I won't go into details but my non-min-wage part-time job kind of got the ball rolling on me furthering my education to maybe get certified to do more work in that field, eventually. I've still got the min-wage food job and I'm attending courses as an in-person student for part of the week. Basically, I signed my life away for the foreseeable future, committed to having no days off unless it is a government-mandated holiday where the post-secondary institution is required to be closed and neither one of my jobs calls me in for such a day.

Trying to get used to my new life has taken a few weeks and it's been a grueling few weeks. Lots of nodding off in classes or in transit, napping between classes or trying not to fall asleep at my food-job. Trying (and failing) to go to bed earlier and try to be asleep before midnight. All that jazz.

Sleep is out of whack so I've been surviving on coffee. Doing my best to brew at home because prices on campus make me think that it isn't tuition or lack of working hours driving the 'broke student' trope. Seriously, a slice of pizza and a fountain drink together go for more than the standard minimum-wage on-campus. I refuse to support that kind of gouging so I've been committing to staying up until 2AM meal-prepping to ensure I can grab and go at 4AM to catch the first buses heading to my campus. No, my classes are not that early. But transit in my area leaves much to be desired and when the bus is scheduled to show up once every hour--and often skips two or three buses, a frazzled student's gotta do what they gotta do.

Today was one such day where I was running on coffee and panic. I'd forgotten to get my coffee stuff laid out for me to easily use in the morning so I scrambled to make anything that would be my sweet-treat drink of the day and settled on powdered iced-tea mix. It's got sugar and a bit of caffeine so I was hoping that it'd do the job. 4AM, off to catch a bus that may or may not show up.

By around 3PM I was flagging after having basically chugged the iced-tea in hopes the sugar would revitalize me. When I nodded off in my class I knew I had to take drastic action, so I ran down to the nearest coffee shop and committed to paying way-too-much for a hit of the good stuff. I got some Caramel Latte concoction or something and it was divine. I went and attended my last class of the day while trying to ration that precious water of awakefulness.

Our last class decided to let out early so we wound up being done around 5PM. I had plans to rush home, deal with what I had to deal with, and maybe hit sleep-ville by 8PM.

As I was packing up my school stuff, classmates kept on approaching me. Some to chat casually. Others to ask me for help proof-reading their assignments or to ask about a specific section of the lecture that they couldn't hear very well and were hoping to compare notes with mine (I'm considered a keener and open about trying to help everyone pass the course so people approach me often). While I normally don't mind this kind of interaction 'cuz the more of us that pass, the less I have to worry about making friends in future semesters…today just wasn't my day.

For those that do not know what a Latte is…here it's basically a shot of espresso with the rest of the cup filled with milk. A shot is not a lot of liquid so probably only 1/8th of my cup was coffee and caramel and the rest was all milk.

Milk normally doesn't play nice with my guts anyway, but today the milk had trickled into a system completely saturated with lemon-y, sugary tea. My guts were cramping and twisting like an angry viper for the last 10 minutes of class and I was in a hurry trying to pack up my things to beat a hasty retreat before my stomach decided to void itself by any means necessary.

I stayed behind to chat with a few classmates, not wanting to be rude, but the second all my stuff was in my bag I basically booked it out of the room and down the stairs.

My stomach hurt so, so, so, so bad!

I nearly tumbled down four levels of stairs because my stomach hurt so bad and I just wanted to curl up and rub it…or rip it all out to get rid of the problem completely. Plans to rush home were immediately dashed and I bolted in the hopes of finding a less busy washroom.

I had started the day out on an upset stomach. Stress, lack of sleep--etc. In the morning, I'd had the sense to find a washroom hidden in a corner of campus that had no classrooms (just an out-of-use office) so that washroom basically experienced zero traffic and likely only ever saw single-digit visitors throughout the course of an entire day. I got to use it in peace in the morning.

Unfortunately for me, my last class of the day was diagonally opposite that secluded washroom and my cramping tummy was making it very clear that it would not let me clear campus. I ended up rushing into one of the more busy washrooms and doing my business there. I definitely stayed there longer than I needed to just to wait for a lull when the washroom would be empty so that I could beat an exit without anyone giving me weird looks.

I ended up getting home maybe an hour and a half later than I'd planned because transferring on transit amplifies wait-times. Being 10 minutes late to the first bus you take snowballs into having to wait another 40-50 minutes for the next one, which snowballs into waiting 20 minutes for the next transfer, which snowballs into 20-40 minutes for the last transfer--and that's my route to and from campus…so…like…being in the washroom for an extra 10 minutes has a domino effect on timing.

I'm home now. Luckily, my stomach didn't embarrass me on the ride home. I got home, rushed around my place trying to get things in order. I've let laundry pile up for three weeks, haven't put away my socks or whatevers, and needed to sort out clean from dirties and figure out which items had to be hand-washed and air-dried. Once I got all those stressors out of the way and finally allowed myself to sit down, I finally had the mental capacity to pay attention to my body. My stomach is hurting again.

Send me your best responses? My stomach's been upset all day and chugging lemon-tea and following that up with a latte that most definitely curdled going through my citrus-y guts has done it zero favors. Any ideas on what to do to the mess that is my achy tummy?

[slothquisitor]

What Moves in the Dark: Chapter Sixteen

A post-campaign Baldur’s Gate 3 eldritch horror AU.

Chapter summary: Liv and the gang look for Astarion. TW: Body horror, mentions of past abuse.

Read from the beginning.

Read on AO3.

_____________________________________________________

When the door opens and light pours into the room that is his cell, Astarion doesn’t move. He has done this before, after all. He’s not exactly sure how to play this, so he opts for nonchalance. He sits, unbothered and without reaction as the figure enters the room. 

He learned a long time ago that the only control he truly has in these situations is within his own mind. His body would obey an order, bleed, he might even scream despite how hard he tried to bite them back. But in his mind, he could be anywhere…untouchable. So he retreats there, pulling his consciousness back, retreating from his own limbs, embracing the numbness. 

The figure is closer now, and he can see who it is now. It is Lucian. Or whatever is puppeting Lucian. He’s not sure that there’s a person still in there. He is moving like a normal person at least. Which is a small mercy, he’s not sure he’d be able to keep it together if whatever this person is sauntered in on all fours again. 

“You are dead.” The voice rasps as if the words have clawed themselves out of Lucian’s throat. There is no expression on the face at all as if it either doesn’t understand how to move the muscles of the face or simply doesn’t care to try. 

“Is that a threat? Forgive me if I don’t take it very seriously. If you wanted me dead, I already would be.” He keeps his tone even, careful. Watching for the way each word lands. He’s getting startlingly little. 

“Observation, merely. You do not live. You have no heartbeat…no pulse of life.” There is no intonation, no flicker of emotion in the voice. It is more than simply off-putting. 

“Oh, I don’t know. Not a lot of corpses have this vigor.” Keep it talking, whatever this is. Figure it out, what it wants, what it wants from him.

“Are there others like you?”

“Well, there’s no one quite like me.” 

Not a smile, not even a hint of anything living behind those dead eyes. “How many?”

“Oh, at least seven thousand and six, give or take. I’m sure not all of them survived their trip to the Underdark. But I did find letters from Cazador to another vampire lord…”

Lucian lunges at him, his face mere inches from his own. He has dropped into a crouch, and it takes every bit of two centuries of pretending to not be afraid in the face of Godey and Cazador and his siblings to not flinch away. This close, he can smell Lucian’s blood, it is so foul it makes him want to retch. He stops breathing to avoid gagging. 

“How many?” He expected the words to come out angry, annoyed, but there again is no intonation, no emotion behind it. 

“I don’t know. Vampires aren’t exactly popular in this realm. Something you might be familiar with since you’re wearing this body. What are you?”

“I am beyond comprehension.”

“Try me.”

Lucian’s righthand paws at the dirty floor, but Astarion keeps his attention on his face, on the expressionless, emotionless void. “I did. You are the first thing I could not control. I could not use you to find the others. But I will learn. That is why you are here.”

He doesn’t know what any of that means, but a cold spear of fear spreads through his limbs. Suddenly he’s very glad he had blacked out for whatever happened before, whatever this thing did to him. Or tried to do. There’s an anger there, too. A rage he doesn’t know how to name. He cannot deal with it now.

“I should try again,” Lucian says without judgment or anger, jaw dropping open and drawing closer. The room is dark, so it takes a moment for Astarion to be able to see the way the tendrils spread and reach from the back of Lucian’s throat toward Astarion’s face. He doesn’t bother tamping down the fear now. He’s not sure that this thing cares anyway. He leans as far back as he can, but there’s nowhere to go, he’s already up against the stone wall. 

He doesn’t dare touch Lucian, not sure what will happen, what might emerge from him. But the tendrils are coming closer and closer, branching and grasping like tiny vines. He’s not sure how Lucian plans to use him, or if those tendrils need to go down his own throat, but he keeps his lips pressed firmly shut, twisting as far away as he can.  

But he is trapped. He can feel the tendrils brush against his skin, a vicious caress. He closes his eyes, he’d rather not see whatever fresh horror is in store. 

Suddenly the sensation disappears. He forces his eyes open. Lucian’s head has snapped to the side…it is twisted unnaturally far to look back at the open door. And then without another word or a glance back at him, it scrambles out of the room. Astarion’s breath comes back to him in gasping pulls. He doesn’t need to breathe, but his body doesn’t always remember that. He leans his head back against the stone wall and closes his eyes, grateful for the moment that he has managed to survive this. That whatever was about to happen didn’t happen…but it might later, and he needs a plan. 

It is then that he looks down at the ground, and sees where Lucian had been pawing at it with his hand, but that’s not what he was doing at all. 

Written in the dirt, messy but legible, are the words, “Help me.”

Is Lucian still inside whatever that thing is?

***

“You’re mad at me,” Percy says as Liv follows him up through the wide Upper City streets. The moon shines coldly above them, drenching the empty streets in silver light. 

No, she isn’t merely mad or merely scared. Somehow, it feels as though every emotion, every new piece of information, and every decision made, is too fucking overwhelming. It is all too much, and so it all just runs together until she feels more numb than anything else.

“I’ve been mad at you most of my life, Percy. I don’t see why it needs to matter now.”

He’s leading them through the Manorborn District. Before they’d left Ramazith’s tower, Percy had handed over every one of his weapons. Shadowheart, Veska, and Minsc have been tasked with keeping an eye on him, in case whatever he’d infected himself with had less to do with voices and more to do with action. 

That is yet another thing that feels too overwhelming to deal with. So she tries not to think about it at all. 

Rolan, Cal, and Lia had opted to stay behind at Ramazith’s Tower believing that if Astarion managed to escape on his own, he was likely to go there first. It has been well over the promised hour, but Kharis hasn’t gotten back to her. She’d like to check in, but doesn’t want to waste a spell she might need later, so they’re going into this blind. Which seems to be bothering her much more than anyone else. Is this how they saved the whole damn world? Just by jumping in without all the information first? 

“I guess that’s…understandable,” he replies. “I should have reached out after you left. Told you everything.”

She is not really interested in exhuming the past right now. Not when there are much bigger problems, but then, he’s infected and she doesn’t have a way to fix it that’s not draining him of his blood and hoping for the best. 

“How long?”

“Since Brelia died.”

She doesn’t look at him, keeps her eyes trained instead on the street. They’ve never talked about this. She’s not sure that she wants to do it now. “I see.”

And he’s been living a double life ever since. Working with the Guild…helping Veska. But not her. It is just another sort of betrayal amongst betrayals. But knowing that Percy has the capacity to help, to be so different than what she has always known. She wants to ask him why. Why he never helped her, why he set the Guild to keep an eye on her, but wouldn’t talk to her himself. Why he helped Astarion without telling him who he was. But she’s not sure she wants the answer. Percy is a lot easier to hate at a distance. A lot easier to find untrustworthy when he’s not infecting himself in order to find Astarion. 

She’s having a very hard time reconciling her ideas of who her brother is, the person he’s always been to her to the person she’s seen over the last hour. And maybe all of those things will get to matter, but they don’t right now. He’s here and he’s helping, and everything else will have to wait. 

“This way,” Percy says, leading them down a narrow side street. The walls of the two manors that flank it rise up in the moonlight, dark and imposing. It looks like a dead end. 

“I do not believe that this will lead us anywhere,” Jaheira says, glancing at Gale with one eyebrow raised. 

There’s a stone retaining wall at the end of this side street, and Percy pauses at it and then begins to run his hands over the stone while he looks for something. 

“What are you looking for?” she whispers to his back, glancing back at their companions who are looking doubtfully on. 

He doesn’t stop tracing the stones with his fingers. “This.” There’s a slight click as one of the stones pushes into the wall, and then part of the stone pushes back and away, revealing a passageway. Percy turns to the group looking more than a little proud of himself. 

“Well, this looks promising. Nothing bad ever happened when we went into strange dark passageways,” Shadowheart says. 

“Well, let us hope this works.” Jaheira opens her palm and whispers Astarion’s name as she casts the spell to locate him. A tiny golden arrow appears in her palm, it wobbles a bit, but as she holds her palm near the doorway, it settles on a direction. Jaheira grins. “And now we have a heading.”

It takes all of Liv’s self-restraint not to rush into the darkened passageway in search of Astarion, instead, she waits for further instructions from Jaheira or Gale who everyone else seems to defer to. 

“Stick close to me,” Jaheira says to her and then ducks inside. 

Liv glances at her brother, who has moved aside to let her through. There are so many things she wants to say, should probably say. She thinks that maybe she should be grateful, but no words come. 

He merely leans against the stone threshold, all relative ease.  “Go on, find Astarion.”

Later. They will talk about this later. And then she follows Jaheira into the dark. 

***

Astarion is grateful for once, for the darkness. There is movement beyond this room that is his cell, heavy footfalls, voices murmuring. He retreats as deep as he can into the darkness, unsure if it is better to go undiscovered by whoever might be beyond the door or risk a rescue by someone who is just as bad as his captor. 

Because Lucian, or whatever the thing is that’s puppeting his body…Not-Lucian needs to control him…for what? What can he do…because he could find other infected people? Is it gathering them all here? Moira had said she’d been hearing voices telling her to come to the Upper City…to come here? Is every other infected person here too? Why would it need all the pieces of itself back together? 

He has to get out of here. 

He examines his shackles again, desperately searching for some way to open them. There’s no keyhole, but maybe he’s wrong, maybe they’re not magical. Maybe they can be broken. He begins banging the shackle on his wrist against the sharpest stone outcropping on the wall. 

All he gets for his trouble is a sore wrist. 

He might be able to get his hands out if he’s willing to break his thumbs. His thumbs have been broken before, not by himself, but he’s fairly certain he could do it, but that won’t solve the problem of his ankle shackles. He leans his head back; he hates how quickly the depressing calculations of pain versus freedom have reared their ugly head. The futility of his ability to change his situation is sinking in, and with it comes a certain degree of panic. What if he is trapped here forever? What if Not-Lucian comes back? What if it learns - whatever the hells that means?

There’s movement at his door, but not simple footfalls going past, someone is opening it. He presses further against the wall as if he can disappear into it. He will not be taken by surprise. Not here. He’ll fight back this time; he’s ready. 

Except that he isn’t. Because the door opens and wreathed in golden lights that bob around her head, it is Liv. Liv is here .

He whispers her name, half convinced that she will disappear like smoke. But she doesn’t.  

“Astarion!” She rushes forward into the room, toward him. She drops to her knees in front of him, eyes filled with so much genuine concern as they roam over him. “Are you alright? Are you hurt?” 

“Never better, my dear,” he says, chin raised as if he hasn’t been scared shitless since he woke up. He forces a smile as if he isn’t a mess, covered in dried blood, clothes ruined and stiff. As if he was never worried at all, as if being captured was a mere inconvenience and not a reminder of his darkest and bleakest memories.

She’s here and the rest doesn’t matter. He can see her look at the shackles, realize there’s no keyhole, and then rest her hand against them, murmuring something he doesn’t quite catch. He feels more than sees the magic fall away, and then the shackles follow. It is a profound relief. 

“You came for me.” The words are out before he can stop them, before he can smother the way emotion fills them out, pressing up against every syllable, giving his fear away.  

She freezes, her emerald eyes have caught an edge as she looks at him. “Always.” She says it like it was never a question like she was always on her way to him. He loves her for that. 

And quite without thinking about it, his now free arms are around her, pulling her into a tight hug. She is here, and he is safe. He’s sure that the way his hands clench at her robes dispels the illusion of nonchalance, one that she had perhaps seen through already, she is so good at seeing him. He’s not sure he cares anymore. He breathes her in, feels her warmth and her familiarity. 

Her hands move in comforting arcs against his back. “You’re alright,” she whispers, and he’s not sure if it’s more for his benefit or hers. But it is hard not to melt into the comfort she offers, the quiet, fervent hope. 

“How did you find me?” he asks, pulling away, but only just, he can’t quite keep from touching her, as if she might disappear if he doesn’t keep a hand on her. It’s ridiculous, but he can’t stop himself. 

She smiles and inclines her head toward the doorway. “I had an awful lot of help.” 

He glances back at the door, at the familiar figures quietly watching their exchange. “You know, if you wanted to get the old crew back together you could have just invited us to a nice dinner rather than getting yourself captured,” Jaheira says with a hint of annoyance that is entirely undone by the smile that follows.

Gale stands just behind her offering a wave. “Shadowheart and Minsc are here too, but they’re scouting ahead with Veska and Percy.”

They’re here. His friends are here. For him. The realization rocks through him, knocking loose the last of the bitterness that had taken up residence inside him when he’d missed a goodbye on a dock. When he’d stood looking at a river until sunrise, missing his friends. But Liv and Gale and Jaheira and Shadowheart and Minsc…even Percy, and whoever the hells Veska is are here. They’re here for him. 

He glances around doubtfully. “Jaheira, is this venue not up to your expectations? I’m hurt.”

And then this room that has been filled with nothing but terror and panic and worry is suddenly filled with laughter as well as light, and it manages to banish some of the awfulness of the last few hours. They’re here, and together, they’ll solve this. 

“I brought your armor and weapons,” Liv says, opening her bag. 

He could kiss her for that. “Thank you, I’m afraid these clothes are rather ruined.”

Liv looks him over. “The blood isn’t yours, is it?” 

He shakes his head. 

She nods. “I could try to prestidigitate some of the blood away.”

He extends his arms, ignoring the impulse to scratch the dried blood off of him. “Please.”

It takes a few moments, but most of the blood does disappear from his skin, and his clothing feels less stiff. Perhaps he might still be able to salvage the coat. At any rate, it’s not the most pressing issue. Liv pulls out the pieces of his armor and then his weapons from her bag, setting them out in a neat line before him. He immediately begins undressing, eager to be in the safety of his armor, back in control. Back to himself. 

He isn’t particularly concerned about undressing in front of her or Jaheira and Gale, but he still notices the way Liv flushes just the tiniest bit pink and turns away. It’s rather endearing. 

So is the way she clears her throat before asking a question. “Have you seen anything that might help us know what we’re about to be up against?”

He sighs. “That man the Bhaalists met with? Goes by the name of Lucian….I met with him…with…whatever is using his body. I think Lucian is still in there. While I conversed with it, he scratched ‘help me’ in the dirt.”

“So this is all against his will?” 

“So it would seem. Whatever this is seems to be trying to get all its pieces back together. Was rather miffed it couldn’t infect or control me in order to help it get it all back. So we have the upper hand since it’s still looking for Moira’s blood, and perhaps others too who didn’t follow the voices.”

Liv stiffens before turning to look at him, her face pale. “Oh shit.”

He’s just finishing strapping his last dagger on his body. “What?”

“Moira’s blood isn’t Moira’s blood anymore. Percy infected himself so we could find you.”

Shit, indeed. “And he’s scouting ahead…deeper in?” Which means closer to whatever Not-Lucian is doing…playing exactly into its hands.

His alarm is mirrored on Jaheira and Gale’s faces. Liv is already running for the door. “We need to go!”

[infcrnalstars]

have a body again, under air, under gravity

summary: autistic!grian dealing with the beginning of season nine after floating in the void for so long

notes: HI so i originally had this autistic grian series posted on my ao3 but i keep getting logged out of ao3 so i thought I'd just post it here for you all to enjoy. if you want the other fics in this series here's the link!

anyway, please enjoy and keep in mind this is all written from my perspective as an autistic person myself. thank you!!!

warning for minor scrian (hinted at only) and some self destructive behaviors.

Grian sat on top of The Entity. He buried his toes in the moss on top and grinned. After floating through the void for so long, it felt good to be grounded again.

Sure he was avian with those big, colorful wings, but he was still part human. And the human part of him really liked to have his feet safely planted on earth and not aimlessly floating.

The Entity came to him in a dream within the void. Perhaps he accidentally touched another sparkling universe, one of where other Entities existed. But regardless of how he came up with it, it was living breathing and all his.

“Grian!” Mumbo called out from behind him, near his vault.

Grian turned, pushing to his feet. Mumbo came rushing over and pulled something from his pocket. It was white, just a messy pile of dust in his hands. Grian’s heart stopped.

Waxing the copper had been a prank, he undid it after he was caught too. Now Mumbo was here with bone meal, prepared to ruin his creation.

“Mumbo,” Grian said, slowly moving forward, towards his friend. “Don't—”

Too late. His friend had already thrown the dust, causing the stone right under Grian to turn to moss. To his surprise, Grian slipped as the moss tore from the rock. He fell, landing hard on his back. His wings ached.

“Grian!” Mumbo called out in alarm. He hurried to his friends side. “Why didn't you fly? Oh your wings, are they okay?” he asked, fretting over Grian.

Grian shrugged. “My wings haven't worked right since the void. The gravity…it's almost too heavy. It's why I didn't build an actual base…it hurts.”

He sat up, giving his wings a small flutter. He yelped, his one wing being particularly painful.

He looked up at The Entity, feeling his own heart beat with the one pulsing inside. Something about being near it was comforting. But then, just as Mumbo had injured it, he too was injured.

“You ruined it,” Grian whispered, tears welling in his eyes.

“I’ll fix it later, right now you need medical attention on X can give you,” Mumbo said.

“You can't fix it,” he said, kicking away the moss near his feet. “It won't be the same.”

Grian pushed to his feet. The pain in his wing was almost unbearable with gravity weighing him down. Stubbornly he retreated to the interior of The Entity. He curled up in the center, under the beating heart, wings wrapped around him.

He was always so particular about his builds, but this one. It was so important that it was made exactly how he envisioned it. He knew it was silly to be upset about this but now it wasn't exactly how he wanted it.

He curled in on himself, shaking as adrenaline gave way to the pain. He bit down on his finger as the sun set on the world outside.

He was exhausted. He just needed to rest, he'd be okay in the morning.

“Grian?” a voice said softly.

He perked up. Gem. Gem was autistic and an unusual hybrid. She made him feel a lot less alone. He sat up as she entered The Entity.

“Mumbo told me what happened,” she said softly. “Would it be okay if I took a look at your wing?”

Grian hesitated but nodded. He turned his back to her, letting her have a look. He felt the deer hybrid gently feel along the frail bones, moving a few feathers aside to get a better look. He'd normally refuse to let people touch his wings, they were sensitive and required great care, but he trusted Gem.

She had antlers that needed to be taken care of, ears that needed proper cleaning. She had a tail that was just as sensitive as his wings. She knew what she was doing.

Normally Scar would help him with his wings. The third and final person allowed near his wings was X. X didn't know where Grian came from, why he was a hybrid, but he ran the server, he could understand in ways Grian couldn't in matters of his wings.

“Just a little fracture, I think,” Gem said. “I think a healing potion will fix it.”

She moved so she was facing him. She was quick to mimic him, sitting criss cross apple sauce.

“Mumbo said you were really upset about him adding moss to your base?” Gem asked quietly, pulling a fidget toy out of her pocket for him.

He happily took it, playing with the various buttons on the cube. “He ruined it. I know it's just some moss, but I don't know…It's just different. I'm not mad at him, but there’s something about The Entity. I feel connected to it.”

She nodded along.

“We travelled through the void you know. There are so many other worlds out there, we passed by all of them. There was one that I saw. It felt so familiar. It had all sorts of creatures but at the heart of the whole planet was something like The Entity,” Grian whispered. “I dunno if it's where I'm from or what, but it's important to me.”

Gem nodded with more understanding this time. “It's just super special to you.”

Grian nodded this time. “So important.”

“Well, I think you ought to explain that to Mumbo.”

“Okay,” Grian said softly.

“Now, how about we head back to my base and we get you that healing potion?” she asked.

Grian’s good wing fluttered in anticipation. “Sure.”

Together they walked along the stone bridges ro Gem's treehouse. He sat by the water while she hurried in to get it for him.

He heard wings flapping overhead but before he could even look, Pearl was landing next to him. He jumped, but the motion made his wings ache more.

“Pearl, you scared me.”

“You're hurt,” Pearl said automatically. She moved behind him to look at his colorful wings.

She had her own wings, but they were so different from his own. Hers were shades of brown and they curved in a way he didn't but still. She was the only avian he’d ever met.

She didn't touch, she knew better. She moved to sit down beside him, wings tucked in.

“You'll hurt your wings if you keep sleeping in the Entity. You need a real house with a real bed,” she said quietly. “Don't go telling me you're fine, we both know sleeping on a stoney floor does a number on the wings.”

Grian kicked at the pebbles along the shoreline. She was right. She usually was.

“I can't fly,” he admits to her. “It's too heavy now.”

“I was in the void too. I can fly just fine. Gravity isn't the issue. You're sleeping in a hollowed out boulder! I mean, come on—”

“Pearl,” Gem says kindly, coming to sit on the other side of Grian. She gave him more space than Pearl did. “Can you talk about this later? I called you to comfort him, as his sister.”

“She's not really my sister,” Grian said, just as Pearl said, “I'm being very sisterly right now.”

Gem shook her head, handing Grian the potion. She got up to set the wing, her hands gentle her firm. He drank the potion and felt a familiar tingle throughout the wing.

“You've got a bit of moss back here…When was the last time you cleaned your wings?” Gem asks.

“Dunno.”

“May I?”

Grian nods. He closes his eyes and stretches his legs out so his toes dip into the cool water. It feels nice.

He hears Pearl leave and he's sure they'll have a whole conversation later, but right now he focused on the relaxing sensation of Gem’s fingers sorting through his feathers.

“Are stoney floors really that bad for wings?” Gem asked.

“Only if you sleep on your back. You end up crushing them and then you get these weird cramps—”

“Like sleeping on your neck weird?” she asks.

“A bit like that, yeah.”

“So then…Why sleep like that?”

“I like the pressure,” he shrugged.

She reached a spot he knew was a mess. Feathers unaligned and ruffled from sleeping on the floor. His wings fluttered away from her gentle hands.

The spot was painful, but it did need to be dealt with.

“Grian,” Gem reprimanded gently.

He sighed, pulling out his communicator. He distracted himself by messaging Scar while Gem finished her hard work.

Grian: Hey Scar, what are you up to?

Scar: I'm working at my base.

Scar: What's up, G?

Grian: Can I stop by in 5?

Gem plucked a loose feather and he yelped.

“Sorry!” she says with a deep frown.

“I haven't cleaned them since we got here;” he admits. “Thank you for doing this.”

“It's always my pleasure.”

His communicator beeps in his hand.

Scar: Your always welcome.

Grian smiled, tucking the device away. He turned to see Gem peering over his shoulder.

“How are you and Scar?” she asked.

“How are we?” he repeats, a bit confused.

Gem shakes her head. “I've got to get back to work, are you going to be okay?”

He nodded. “I'm heading over to Scar’s. I'll be fine.”

Gem smiled, giving his shoulder a squeeze before disappearing back into her treehouse.

Grian got up, starting to flutter his wings to fly, but even moving them like that felt uncomfortable. It felt like they were weighing him down.

He tucked them in close to his back instead and walked across the bridges that had been constructed over the small rivers and canals. He headed towards Scar’s impossibly large treehouse that he built entirely by hand.

It was absolutely breathtaking.

Just being here was soothing.

He hurried up into the tree and found Scar working on the upper levels. He had a workbench set up at just the right height for him in his wheelchair.

He was hammering something together, a half constructed bed on the floor next to him.

“Scar,” Grian said.

Scar jumped a little. “I didn't hear you come in,” he laughs.

Grian just smiled. “I'm light on my feet. What are you making?”

“I'm trying something new for my bed. I think it'll turn out super cool,” Scar said. “Anyway, what's up?”

“Just had a rough afternoon, Thought it could be better by seeing my best friend,” he said, watching Scar’s face light up.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Scar asked, setting his hammer down.

Grian sat himself down on top of the work bench, pulling his knees up to his chest. He sighed and explained what had transpired to upset him so much.

Scar listened. He was a great listener, especially for Grian.

“Ah, that's why Mumbo stopped by earlier,” Scar said, returning to his tinkering. “He feels really bad.”

“He stopped by?” Grian asked.

Scar nods, not looking up this time. “Yeah, something about an apology gift to make you feel better. I suggested a new blanket so you can make a little nest for yourself. Like you did last season in your starter base.”

Grian smiled a little bit. That would fix his sleeping on the floor problem, and it was a sweet thought. His felt warm and tingly - happy. He was happy.

“Thanks, Scar,” he said quietly.

“I also heard a rumor that your wings have been bothering you,” Scar continued on, venturing deeper into his workshop. He returned holding a strange contraption in his lap. “I might have to adjust the size, but think of it like my wheelchair. It's just an aid to help you out. Hypothetically, it should help create a draft and take the pressure off your wings so there's less strain.”

Grian took the device into his hands. It reminded him of the elytra everyone used to fly around. He

looked up at Scar and down at the device, setting it aside carefully. He pulled him into a tight hug.

“Thank you.”

“Anytime, G.”

[annoyed-galaxy]

Fictober 2024 ~ 15

"let's try this"

Fanfiction: DA2 I know my fictober stuff seems pretty random, but I'm kinda just writing what's on my mind and I just finished The Masked Empire and it set up a lot of stuff and I just got eluvians on the mind. Writing a thing every single day has been very interesting, but good practice even if what I produce seems random or noncohesive. Just lots of thoughts and I honestly should just write more because I don't do it enough. So fictober is definitely helping with that. But also just posting without a care has been helping to. I don't expect most people to read what I make and I'm kinda just hyperfixating into the void, but eh you know how it be. Anxiety is a bitch. Can also be found on Ao3

Seth had never expected himself to explore ancient ruins as a hobby, but since leaving Kirkwall, a man had to find something to do as a fugitive. Being this close to Tevinter, however, caused him to be a little on edge, but nothing he couldn’t bury beneath a charming smile and well placed joke. 

His partner, on the other hand, seemed to relax a little bit more the closer to Tevinter they were. In some regards, Anders respected Tevinter and even sometimes idolized it. But Anders was no fool and knew there was as much corruption in the empire as other places. Still, mages were more free there than in other parts of Thedas. 

If someone were to ask why Seth and Anders were poking around in some random ruin near the border of Tevinter, neither man would have been able to give an answer. They may have alluded to things such as finding some artifacts to sell, but they didn’t need money, or studying some ancient text on the walls, but Seth found that too boring and Anders wasn’t that interested. Honestly, it was just an excuse for the two of them to do something that didn’t involve running away from their problems. 

Their staffs lit up the area in blue and red colors, causing the shadows to retreat as they walked through crumbling halls. They held each other’s hand and just looked at the walls around them. Something about this place seemed so…ancient. Anders squinted at some script on the walls that his light managed to catch. He stopped and Seth staggered back when Anders’s hand pulled him still. Seth looked at what Anders was looking at and brought his staff close, illuminating the script more.

“What is that?” he asked, tilting his head examining the odd text. Seth didn’t grow up in the Circle. He was an apostate his entire life and everything he learned about magic and history was through his parents. Compared to Anders, who had the entire knowledge of the Circle at his disposal, Seth was less knowledgeable about most things. 

“I think it’s elven,” Anders replied, his face still scrunched up in thought. 

Seth’s eyes widened in surprise. “Elven ruins? This close to Tevinter?” 

Anders looked at his lover with a soft smile. “The elven empire once covered the entirety of Thedas, love.” He turned back to the script. “I am not surprised we managed to stumble across one now.” 

“Can you read what it says?” Seth asked. 

Anders shook his head. “I only studied the basics of elven and this seems super ancient.” He groaned. “All I’m getting is ‘crossroads’, but I don’t know what context that could be used in.” 

Seth shrugged. “Maybe it’s a metaphor.” 

Anders shook his head. “Maybe, but who knows.” 

They continued on, seeing more of the elven script along the walls, but Anders’s still couldn’t decipher any of it. 

At the end of the corridor they walked in, it was a dead end. At least, it was now. Rubble covered what might have been a large door into, presumably, a larger room. They approached the debris and let go of each other’s hands as they examined around the rocks, looking for any possible way to clear the debris. After determining there was no way, Anders sighed, his shoulders sagging in defeat. 

“Ah well. End of this journey I suppose.” He looked over and saw that Seth was still looking at a spot. 

Then Seth put the blade end of his staff in between some rocks and a foot against the rock next to the staff. “Let’s try this,” he muttered to himself. Anders felt the air shift as Seth summoned mana to him. Anders backed up a bit watching as Seth began to pry the rocks apart with his staff, using some force magic to make them looser. Anders looked up at the top and saw that some of the rocks had begun to shake. 

“Oh no,” Anders just whispered to himself as he realized what Seth was doing. He ran to the side of the corridor, pressing himself up against the wall just as Seth finally pried the rock free with his staff. The debris came crashing down after that and Seth used his magic to push it all away from him before he was crushed. Once the dust settled and rocks had stopped moving, Anders opened his eyes, not realizing he had closed them and looked at Seth who was wiping himself off of dust, but had a wicked smile on his face. 

“That worked easily!” he cheered, looking at Anders. 

Anders sighed and just smiled softly. “You’re reckless.”

Seth winked. “S’what I do.” Then he grabbed Anders’s hand again and they entered the large chamber. What they saw, they couldn’t believe. 

They were in the largest chamber either of them had ever been before. All around them were sarcophagi and epitaphs, reduced to illegible text that neither of them could read. Along the walls were columns where torches were still lit with a blue fire, casting the entire room in a haunting glow. Seth stamped out his staff and Anders followed suit since they no longer needed to light their way.

What was the most impressive thing in the chamber was at the far end of where they had entered. 

Standing tall and surrounded by carvings of dragons and large wolves was a ornate frame surrounding a cloudy gray glass. As they approached the curious object, Seth’s eyes widened with recognition. “This looks just like Merrill’s mirror,” he said, examining the cloudy gray that seemed to slowly move across the surface of the glass.

“The eluvian?” Anders asked and Seth nodded in confirmation. “Wasn’t that thing dangerous?” Anders took a step back, tugging on Seth’s hand.

“I think that one was dangerous because it had been corrupted by something. This…This looks dormant.” Seth approached the mirror, dragging Anders behind him despite Anders’s slight protests. He put his hand against the surface and it was cool to the skin. “She never did get it working, though,” Seth wondered out loud. 

“Maybe it’s because whatever magic powered these things is gone,” Anders offered, looking at the mirror. “After all, the eluvians are ancient elvish.” 

Seth shrugged. “Maybe.” Then he considered for a moment. “Do you think she’d like to know about this?” 

Anders looked at Seth with a frown. “You want to give this location to Merrill?” 

Seth shrugged. “Why not? She’s been through a lot, maybe studying a place that belonged to her people will help her find what she’s looking for.” 

Anders was about to say something in protest but then just sighed. “I don’t think there’d be any actual harm to it. Though,” he looked around, “you feel it don’t you?”

Seth nodded his head as he turned from the mirror. “The Veil is thin.” 

Anders eyes the sarcophagi around them with concern. “If we’re not careful, or if she wasn’t, I have a bad feeling this chamber could be flooded with corpses or worse.” 

Seth agreed and then slowly walked away from the eluvian, Anders’s following suit. 

That night, Seth drafted up a letter that he then gave to a local barkeep to send to Kirkwall. 

Varric, 

Found an interesting place Daisy may be interested in if you still got contact with her. Something to do with her people and might help with that mirror she had been working on for so long. Location’s on the map attached. 

Also, hope you’re doing well. Miss you buddy. 

- H.

[rolloollor]

Abandoned Draft of an Unnamed Mallerollo Dragon Sacrifice Fic Part 2 and 3

The first part is here. Just note that this isn't polished and I didn't double check it for typos or anything before posting it because it's scraps. Always be sure to keep your discarded writing because even if it didn't work, you might want to reuse an aspect (especially a description of something). There's no conclusion, this is just a novelty to see another AU and also how Bound by Briar evolved from this.

Chapter two

He could not see.

It took less than a few minutes of walking for the void within the cavern to swallow all light. The world narrowed to the cold all around him, the sound of water droplets hitting wet rock, and his own cautious footsteps.

It was stupid. Perilous. At any moment, he could fall down a pit or encounter some beast lying in wait for foolish humans to stumble blindly in the dark. His body still ached. Each pace sent an aching twinge up his legs, demanding he pause and sit down. But who knew when the dragon would return? Better to put distance between them.

He tread slowly, testing the integrity of the ground before he shifted his full weight on it. At times, the surface rose and fell, growing slippery and treacherous.

Tingles dribbled down his spine, telling him to retreat. The gloom seemed a physical thing now, heavy, thick, enveloping him and everything else to the point that he was breathing it in. It occupied his lungs, making him unable to inhale properly—he had to pant. Doubtless it hoped to lead him astray. If only he had a torch…

He frowned, stopping in his tracks. In a way, he did have a light source. He could illuminate the area if he used magic. Though engulfing his body in fire once more did not strike him as wise… The dragon had claimed that the variety of magic he had used was too much for him without a ‘mage stone,’ whatever that was. If his heated clothing was any indication, Malleus knew far more about this than Rollo did, so it would be prudent to believe that statement.

Could he create something smaller? An ember, perhaps?

Rollo held out his hand in front of him, though he could not see it. He envisioned a spark catching on a candle wick and eased a bit of power through channels still sore from his earlier efforts.

A flame as long as his middle finger appeared in his palm.

The sight of it sent a brief stab of panic into his heart as he imagined it swallowing him like it had Jehan. For that moment, the flickering orange grew, doubling in size. But it did not hurt. There was nothing to be afraid of.

The glow shrank back.

Rollo stared at it, gritting his teeth.

How dare it not consume him? Why had it killed Jehan, but did not deign to singe him? What had Jehan done to deserve such a miserable end? He was only a child!

He trembled. Did magic have some will of its own? Had it spurned Jehan in favor of Rollo? His fingers itched to extinguish the flame he had conjured.

Doing so would leave him adrift in an ocean of black. He had little choice but to rely on the inexplicably placid flare against his skin.

Rollo’s gaze finally left his hand. The area around him was more open than he had expected—across from the wall where he stood, the faint light he had created faded without reaching an obstacle. Stone formations the shape of pointed teeth reached down from the ceiling, crowding each other like the mouth of some misshapen beast. The ground rippled, but was much better than what dwelled overhead.

Man had neither the right nor the ability to live in a place like this. Rollo continued on, regardless. He had to find a way out.

The cave grew narrower as he walked. After what could have been ten minutes or an hour, Rollo found himself faced with a passage so tight that he would have to step through sideways. He swallowed. What if it never widened? Would he become stuck and starve to death? That could be worse than getting eaten… Then again, he would at least have the satisfaction of denying the dragon a meal.

As he considered this, a sound overcame the silence. Somewhere beyond this hindrance, water flowed, rather than merely dribble.

Could it lead to an exit? It was at least moving. This might be his best chance.

If he could get to the other side, of course.

Rollo shoved his hand into the miniature couloir. The light danced against the cramped space and his fingers cast long shadows against the craggy slabs. However…

Something furry occupied the area, as well.

A creature dangled above. It was only a bit larger than the fire Rollo held. Leathery wings wrapped around itself.

A bat.

It stirred, the fire likely disturbing its slumber. The bat turned its ugly face toward him, its nose akin to a pig’s with some added deformity. Beady red eyes met his.

The hair on the back of his neck stood on end. Run. He had to run. There was something wrong with this animal, some strange intent he couldn’t discern.

His flame went out.

Rollo’s heart leapt into his throat.

Wings beat against the air as the bat swooped past him, giving short, piercing shrieks as it went. The sound drilled into his ears. He covered them with his hands and crouched down, waiting until the noise faded into nothing.

Now what? The darkness pressed against him again, seeping into his eyes, frigid and deadly. He tried to summon fire again the way he had before—by picturing it in his mind’s eye and allowing that despicable force to move through him.

It did not work. He couldn’t remove whatever blockage prevented magic from sliding out of him without his consent.

What had he done to deserve this?!

His head pounded. His breath came shallow, scraping his throat.

Faintly, in the distance, a deep voice called his surname.

The dragon. Had the bat gone to fetch Malleus? Perhaps there were more waiting all around this cave. Maybe he had passed some before he had come to this obstruction and they had left, too.

“Flamme?” came the voice again, bouncing around the walls, louder now. He was coming closer.

Until this point, the cavern had been open enough for a beast of Malleus’ size to wander through. He could not fit through this passage.

Rollo shoved half of himself into the crevice. Uneven rock abraded the right side of his body, biting through his clothes to get at his skin. He could deal with the consequences later—if he could just get to the water, he might be able to escape!

He squirmed his way through, the area so tight around him that he couldn’t take a full breath. One step, two, three—!

His right foot careened downward and encountered nothing but air. Rollo yelped, his stomach lurching. He clung to two jutting stones, his arms straining to hold him upright. Pebbles and bits of sediment tumbled down around him. Water splashed somewhere below, but how far he could not tell.

He was going to fall, he was going to drown, he was going to freeze to death, and his life had amounted to absolutely nothing.

Warm fingers closed around his left wrist. Rollo screeched. A man? Woman? Demon? Whatever it was, when Rollo turned his head its way, two green eyes glowed in the dark. The dragon? But these had pupils and were much smaller… They hovered only a few finger-widths above Rollo’s own line of sight.

“Do you intend to go for a swim?” Malleus asked, his tone placid. “It would be your last. Come, Flamme. You stand to hurt yourself if you go any further.”

Rollo had no retort. The dragon had caught him. Running was not an option now.

A moment later, the jaws of the cave vanished. He stood before those chartreuse lights, faint as they were. Had Malleus moved him with magic?

“Hm, you have ruined your clothing and injured yourself.” Malleus breathed in through his nose. “And you have continued to use magic after pouring out so much earlier… You smell of ink. It is a good thing Lilia restricted your channeling when he did, otherwise...” A pause. “How do you remain on your feet?”

Rollo said nothing. His body screamed at him to lay down, but he did not have the luxury.

“What a strange creature you are, Flamme.”

“Hmph. You’re one to talk,” he said, a wheeze to the words. “Why did you grab me with a human hand?”

It must have been some projection or a false creation made to, what, soothe him? It was better than claws or teeth, at least…

“Ah, I suppose you cannot see me.” Malleus released him. “It is far easier to maneuver around the vicinity in this form, constraining as it is. Now, hold still.”

He could occupy a humanoid body? Grotesque. It must have the wrong bones and misplaced limbs—a frightening thought.

Then he had told him to ‘hold still.’ An absurd thing to say. What did he think Rollo was going to do? He couldn’t bolt if everything was black.

Hot prickles spread along his stomach. Rollo grimaced. They soon faded and Rollo brushed his fingertips against the area and felt nothing but smooth skin. Of all things, Malleus had healed him.

“Why?” he blurted.

“Hm?” The pair of eyes tilted.

“Why bother?”

“You would rather keep your wounds?”

Rollo scoffed. “What does it matter if you intend to eat me regardless?”

There was a long pause. In the darkness, it seemed to stretch on forever, and it left Rollo wondering if Malleus hadn’t used magic to depart.

“Eat you?” Malleus asked at length. “You believe I will eat you?”

“What else could you possibly want from me?”

“Was I unclear? Hmm… You have used a great deal of your strength today, so I suppose you aren’t thinking properly. Know this: I do not integrate food into my household.”

That statement sank into him piece by piece.

It could have been a lie, but why would that be necessary? In truth, Malleus could consume his flesh whenever he saw fit. Whether it be in this cave or out in the fields. As a goatherder who had stood out in open plains without any companions save animals, he would have been an easy target, as could a number of other occupations. And yet, he had never seen a dragon until today. Indeed, outside of stories, he had never heard of a dragon eating anyone.

Maybe he was not in mortal danger. Which would mean he had tried to flee through the caves for nothing…

“Regardless,” Malleus continued, “I thank you for this amusing game of hide and seek, but you need rest. Let us return.”

Another trek was the last thing his body wanted to accomplish. Still, he readied himself to move.

Then, within the span of a blink, his stomach twisted. Bright light slammed into his face. Rollo cringed and covered his face with his hands. A breeze fluttered about him, its temperature mild.

When the streaming sun no longer hurt, Rollo looked around. They had returned to the entrance. The dragon lounged nearby, watching him as the trident tip of his tail wiggled back and forth.

Rollo sat on the floor and let out a long sigh. More magic. His legs ached and his feet throbbed, so he supposed he could not complain about the way they had skipped another hike.

Each time he allowed his eyelids to close, they threatened to refuse to lift. It had been a long, long time since his body had yearned for sleep like this, rather than forcing him to lie awake at night.

“Flamme. I have prepared food for you.”

Rollo turned toward the voice. Atop its head, in between its horns, the bat with the ugly crescent nose from earlier perched. So the dragon had allied itself with flying rats.

Next to them was an entire cow lying on its side. Its chest did not rise or fall, but its coat was pristine.

“Go on. You still hunger, do you not?” Malleus gestured one of its claws toward the cow. “No need to hold back.”

Oh, he did not have the endurance for this. Did Malleus expect him to bite into a cow, hair and all?

“Raw?” He shook his head. “No. I’m too exhausted to eat, anyway.” Rollo eased himself down so he was lying on his back.

“You will doze?” the dragon asked.

“I intend to try.”

“I will assist you.”

Assist? What did that…?

He did not have time to finish that thought as his consciousness faded. Each of his muscles relaxed, some for the first time in months if not years. Rollo fell into a deep, deep slumber.

***

Malleus stared at his human pet as he slept.

Such creatures were so fragile—a mere thimbleful of magic-use more would push Flamme too far. And yet, he had been able to stand and even speak. What allowed him to do so? Was he unique among humans? Malleus had, thusfar, few dealings with them, despite the fact that they were his subjects as much as any other being that dwelled on his land.

Lilia hopped off his head and flew up to the ceiling. He gripped onto it and hung upside down.

“And where did you find this slippery human?” he asked.

“Did you notice that surge of magic some hours ago? It was beyond our forest.”

One of Lilia’s large ears twitched. “He was the source?”

“Yes. His control is childlike, but he can force a dangerous amount out into the world at once. It would have killed him.”

With a thoughtful hum, Lilia wobbled side to side until he was gently swinging. “I see. But why bring him here?”

Malleus turned toward Flamme again. His gray eyebrows had furrowed, which made him appear as though he was irritated that he was asleep. Did his oddities ever cease?

“I saw an opportunity in him. Despite humans’ ignorance of magic, they are a species not incapable of learning. If I teach him how to control and harness it, perhaps I could send him back into the world so he could then inform others, who would then spread that knowledge further. After many generations, this could prevent most human overblots.” He paused. “Though his herd would not likely accept him back… but there are others.”

Lilia slowed his swaying until he came to a stop. “Hm! Your grandmother would never have considered taking a human under her wing.” Lilia grinned, showing off tiny, but sharp, teeth. “Yes, it is an unorthodox idea, but it is suitable for a youth such as yourself.”

Malleus’ tail swished against the stone floor. “The humans of this land are my subjects as much as the fae and the animals, after all.”

And, like it or not, humans were the only beings creating gargoyles. Fae did not need them and animals had no concept of them, but humans had a fascination with functional decoration.

“Indeed!” Lilia chirped. “Ah, you are maturing so well. I remember when you still had eggshell on your snout…” He pretended to sniffle, but quickly dropped the façade. “You are quite lucky that I’m an expert on raising mammals.” Lilia shuffled his feet around the small outcropping he hung from until he looked in Flamme’s direction. “First, you should make him a nest.”

Most creatures did prefer to sleep in some sort of structure. Malleus did not mind sleeping on the floor, but he did not have a hoard that lent itself to a comfortable night’s rest.

“What sort of nests do humans use?”

“A variety. I see them when I have a craving for blood of the animals they keep.” Clawed toes released and Lilia was on the air, gliding over to Flamme. He flew in a circle around him before returning to Malleus and landing on his nose. “He’s of the variety that sleeps inside a square. I can tell.” Lilia brushed the nails on the tip of his wing in four connected straight lines.

“Inside a square?”

“Yes, they build them from tree carcasses and go inside, as though crafting their own tiny caves. Some have triangles formed of mud and straw on top. They also light fires inside them, the silly things.”

This had more complexities than he had previously imagined. But Lilia was much older than he was and more worldly, so he knew a great deal about these things compared to Malleus.

Thus, with his instruction, Malleus crafted a proper lair for his pet. Building it from wood did not strike him as wise considering Flamme’s affinity for fire, so he opted for a facsimile. Four walls of stone in the shape of stacks of logs and sticks rose around Flamme in a tight square, scarcely larger than the man himself. As far as Malleus knew, prey animals preferred tight spaces. Nothing lower on the food chain than a dragon could be a pure predator. Doubtless he would feel safe.

As for the crowning triangle, a mix of mud and dead grass struck him as too base and mammalian for his cave. More rock would do just fine. This did result in Flamme becoming trapped inside his little home, so Malleus took one of the walls away.

Finally came the flooring.

“Humans line their burrows with straw,” Lilia said. “The ground is too hard for him.”

Why were humans so particular?

Rather than fetch any plant matter, Malleus turned the area beneath Flamme into sand. That would be good enough.

Lilia crawled around the newly formed hovel. He moved one limb at a time—first a wing with his single thumb claw scratching against the cavern floor, then a leg, then another wing, and so forth. What he lacked in terrestrial prowess he made up for in silent flight. When he had done a full revolution, he gestured for Malleus to lower his head. He did so, placing his chin on the ground. Lilia then climbed up his face to settle between his horns once more.

“How long will you have him slumber?”

Malleus glanced up at the opening of the cave mouth. The light outside was shifting into pinks and purples.

“When the scent of ink fades.”

“It will be sunrise before that. Hm, and the sun is setting at this very moment!” He tapped a limb on Malleus’ head. “I should call upon Silver and see if he is all right. It would do him no good to fall asleep standing up again.” Lilia hurled himself into the air and flew toward the sky. “Until morning, Malleus!”

And then he was gone.

Malleus peered at his pet once more. His feeble chest rose and fell, but that frown of his had not retreated in the least.

To think that Flamme had thought he planned to eat him. Would he not be shocked to find himself a comfortable little human home when he awoke? How grateful would he be? Immensely.

But Malleus could not sit and stare at Flamme all night long. No. He had important business to attend to.

He hadn’t visited his hoard in hours.

In a flash, he teleported to a hidden chamber of his den. There, exactly eleven pieces of masonry waited.

Gargoyles.

Malleus curled up in the corner and let his gaze roam around his prizes, each doubtless created for him. Humans had named them after his great-great-great grandfather Gargouille, which was evidence enough that they meant them as offerings. Some took the forms of ugly birds or humanoids, but the oldest, and his most treasured, donned a reptilian appearance with roaring mouths and outstretched wings.

Each was beautiful in its own way. He did not begrudge the craftsmen for giving the gargoyles different shapes��variety made his collection more vibrant. His heart swelled at the sight of them.

Humans alone created these works of art, all in the service of honoring dragons. It would be rude to spurn them. He accepted any and all that he saw, but he had not seen many in his flights around his land as of late.

If he treated Flamme well… could he convince him to craft a gargoyle? He may even do it of his own accord. Malleus could make his own, of course, but that would be pointless. The appeal of these objects was the worship that went into them.

Oh, the possibilities!

Hours passed as Malleus turned these thoughts over in his mind. What sort of creature would Flamme carve? Where would he place the waterspout?

Only time would tell. And Malleus had plenty of that.

Chapter three (just stops when I got bored)

Rollo woke and found himself encased in uneven stone. 

A tomb.

Sweat trickled down his brow as his mind raced. Had the dragon been some hallucination he had conjured as he was dying? Or had it been something he had dreamt as his fellow villagers had buried him alive?

A rush of hot air swept across his feet all the way to his head. He turned his gaze toward it.

A massive green eye blinked.

Well… Maybe he hadn’t woken up after all.

“Flamme,” the dragon said. “It is morning.”

“...Is it?”

“Yes. Now… Tell me your thoughts about the nest I made for you.”

The what?

Rollo reached over and touched the ceiling above. It hovered perhaps a hand width over his head, offering him little maneuverability. Grains of sand cascaded off his arm. Why? It was all around him.

The dragon had made this? 

“It’s cramped.”

“Yes,” Malleus said, as though he complimented it.

Rollo frowned. “I thought it was my tomb.”

There was a pause.

“Is it common for humans to die in their nests?”

Rollo let out a long sigh. There was little point in expecting a dragon to know how humans lived, he supposed. It had made an attempt to give him a comfortable place to sleep, which was kind, even if he had failed.

“It can happen. Would you move? I must crawl out if I hope to leave and you’re blocking my exit.”

It obliged, shifting its mass away. Rollo, scarcely able to turn himself over, inched out backwards on his hands and knees. 

Once free, his stomach growled, more insistent than it had been the day before. Malleus gestured to the bovine carcass again.

This was going to be a long morning.

First, he had to relieve himself. Malleus insisted he do it outside of the cave, which suited Rollo just fine. When he was out there, among the grass and the trees swaying in the wind, he considered running. But if the dragon had no intention to harm him, then what reason did he have to leave? His village would do him harm in a heartbeat, as would others in the region once they heard about what had happened. Not that it was his fault, of course. They had threatened his life—he couldn’t be blamed. Not that it would stop anyone from doing so.

In the end, he had returned to the dragon of his own volition. 

Then came the matter of breakfast. He had to explain that humans skinned and cooked animals before they ate them. He could accomplish this—someone had to slaughter and prepare the goats that served no other purpose—but it would take time. If he wanted to eat sooner, it would be better to find some fruit.

The dragon had tilted his head. “So particular. Well, if it must be that way, then so be it. I will dissect the cow for you.”

That did not sound promising.

“In the meantime,” it continued, “I suggest you wander about the forest. There are plum trees and mushrooms and so forth.”

The dragon did not seem at all worried about him bolting, which in turn meant that ensuring he remained was not significant. He genuinely must not intend to crush his bones between his teeth. 

Malleus lifted Rollo with an invisible force—magic, no doubt—and brought him to the mouth of the cavern. Then Rollo was on his own. 

So much had changed in the span of a day. Yesterday morning, he had woken on his bed made of straw and prepared to tend to the village’s herd of goats. Now, he lived with a dragon. To what end? Malleus must want something from him, unless… unless he saw him as a pet? 

He wrinkled his nose at that thought. Did he want to spend his life sleeping in that ‘nest’? 

For the moment, he had to at least recover his strength. He need not make a decision on what to do next so soon.

Light streamed through the canopy of leaves. The endless storm of the past week or so had ended. The elders that had survived must have been happy about that. 

As Rollo wandered, the scent of greenery, of life was all around him. Birds tittered and flitted from branch to branch while bugs inched along the ground, seeking sustenance. Not unlike himself, he supposed. 

It did not take long for him to stumble upon a tree bursting with golden mirabelle plums. He plucked one and devoured it, heedless of the juice that dribbled down his chin. No one was around and he could not be blamed for being sloppy when he hadn’t eaten in over a day.

Rustling leaves sounded behind him. Rollo whirled around. Fool that he was, he hadn’t considered what dangers might lurk in this forest.

Some paces away, a fallow deer with shining silver fur stared at him with eyes of swirling pinks and purples. It sniffed the air, its ears pointed at Rollo. From its thick and sturdy antlers hung an ugly bat, its wings tucked about itself like a blanket. 

Did those cave bats have allies all over this forest? It couldn’t be the same one he had stumbled upon the day before, could it?

The buck took a cautious step forward and paused, its gaze never leaving Rollo for an instant. It strode forward again and stopped. It then lowered its head. Was it trying to bow…?

“You must be the human Lord Malleus brought home,” it said. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Rollo leaned backward. A dragon being able to speak was one thing. Malleus had shown himself to be a magical creature with its own intelligence. A deer was a common animal, so how could it communicate? However… the coloring of its fur and the fact that it had approached him did imply it was something more than the average deer.

“Do all the animals of this forest speak?” he asked flatly.

The buck blinked, its long eyelashes briefly resting against the fur of its face. “No. Only fae or those under Lord Malleus’ employ.”

Fae… Long ago, it was said that fae and humans lived together, but repeated conflicts had driven the two apart. Never in his life had he taken these tales seriously. He did have to admit that they were far more plausible now that he had met a dragon…

He should have paid more attention to stories of that nature. As it was now, he knew next to nothing about fae.

[pumpkin-spike18]

✨Weekly Progress #29-30✨

Let me start this off by apologizing for my inactivity 🙇‍♂️ I try not to dive too deeply into my mental health on this blog, but those who know me well know how much I struggle with it. I think my brain shut down and retreated after finishing my recent projects. I relied on daily never-ending tasks to get me through each day with a sense of accomplishment so when that ended, I wound up in a void where I couldn't bring my creativity to amount to anything new.

I kicked my butt back into gear the last couple of days after realizing how little I did during week 29 (and week 28 looked inflated, but I did most of the work in 2-3 days leaving most of my week blank).

I don't know where I'll go from here, but I've worked out some new upcoming plans for future projects! And I'll do my best to start replying to messages and comments;; I've left everyone on read for long enough...!!

Thank you so much everyone, for continuing to support me al this time! 💕

Weekly Progress #29

Wrote O2A2 post mortem

Finished aKwtD ref sheet lines, flat colors

Weekly Progress #30

Finished aKwtD Liz refsheet

Finished aKwtD Camille refsheet

Reorganized/scheduled work

made SFB roadmap

Prepped SYVNH plan

Updated vgen services

Drafted more proposals

Sketched SFB sprite

Detective story concepting/outlining

A Kiss with the Devil

I completed the refsheets for Ley's upcoming yuri game!

It was a lot of fun designing them from scratch and then being able to render them in full body art! I've always shied away from full body pieces because they take a lot of time and energy... the refsheets took over a week from sketch to final piece. But I'm really happy with how they came out!

Camille, the player character, and her love interest, an immortal and possibly immoral eldritch creature, Liz!

A Sky of Falling Birds

I'm working on proposals for funding and marketing of this game as it will be a commercial work when finished. I created a new roadmap for how I'll plan to get more assets done (...and reduce the number of assets, hopefully). The current plan is to have a Demo 2.0 for Yuri Jam to better show off the story since the current demo focused more on the art and animation aspect.

A sketch for the final character sprite of SFB. I originally planned to give her two outfits, but I might try to cut that if I can...

Stuck in a Yandere Visual Novel... HELP!!

Yes...! I've still got a bit of work left for this project!! Mainly some future updates. I do want to get a steam release for SYVNH one day so I'm working towards that!

I will also be putting out some surveys soon for interest in merch based on the characters. The feasibility of it will depend on interest for what type of merch, ofc, but at the very least, I will be working on some new art for folks soon [: As a thank you for playing, and all the love you've shown for the game so far!

Other

I went into more detail than I probably should've in the intro of this post, but even in my "slump," I've been busy practicing art when I'm not getting my butt kicked by some Hollow Knight mini boss for 2 hours.

I've started a doodle blog, that some folks found in less than 24 hours 💦I'm not ready to formally connect the two together, but if it seems like I've been active there, it's just cause I draw a lot every day. It makes the monotony feel better. This blog will still contain all of my devwork, but all my art musings will be in that one.

I'm sure I'll have the courage to link the two together soon.

[ivpapaemeritusiv]

Chapter 10: I'm Your Rock, Baby

Summary: In this chapter, Addeline spirals into depression post the birth of her daughter, grappling with unfulfilled obligations to the clergy and Papa Emeritus's potential replacement. The question remains: Can Papa's love pull her out of this despair? Or will everything they've worked hard for be lost?

Word Count: 3,800

TW, there is a scene of non-con sex at the beginning although it isn't forceful. There is also a lot of talk of post partem depression.

Addeline spiraled into a deep depression after the birth of their daughter. She retreated to the nursery and spent most nights there with the child, leaving Papa on his own.

“Amore!” The Cardinal called to his wife down the corridor. Her absence from his room was quite noticeable and the clergy was placing great pressure on him to try for a boy. He made his way to the nursery and pushed the door open slightly, “Amore?” he called out once more.

He could see his wife sitting in a rocking chair with their newborn daughter. The nanny was folding clothes on the opposite side of the room while the new mother soothed the infant. Addy seemed like a shell of the woman he once knew. She was tired, void of color and spoke in a low voice, “Hello Papa,” she managed to say.

“Amore, I need you to come with me,” he said. He looked towards the nanny and signaled for her to take the baby.

Seeing the nanny approaching quickly, Addy clung to her daughter tightly and yelped, “Why?”

Papa signaled to the nanny to continue in her task to remove the child from his wife, “Tesoro, I need to see you in my bedroom, darling.”

Reluctantly, she let go of Elizabeth so the woman could take her into her care.

“That’s it,” Papa said, extending his arms out to his wife, “Come with me.”

Addy took his hand and followed him into his bedroom. Wasting no time, Papa began undressing his wife, “What are you doing?” she inquired.

“We need to try for a boy, my love,” he explained as he continued removing her clothes, “There is no time to waste.”

She crossed her arms, hiding her bare breasts as Papa began working on taking his own clothes off. She looked around dazed, confused and completely absentminded in that moment.

Once naked, the man lied Addy down on her back very gently and proceeded to climb on top of her. The woman, still feeling the effects from being cut and stitched down below was quite hesitant to let Papa make love to her.

“Papa, I don’t think we should,” she whimpered, “I’m not healed.”

“I will be so gentle, dearest Addeline. I promise.”

The woman lay there waiting for the inevitable. She grew nervous as she sensed the presence of the Cardinal inching closer and closer to her entrance. She closed her eyes tightly and tried to welcome the feeling of his tip pushing lightly at the stitches that held her together. There was a small pressure proceeded by a burning snap, “Oww!” she cried.

Initially ignoring her cries, the Cardinal pushed in and pulled out as gently as he ever had before. It was slow and steady but even still the pain was unbearable for his wife. He saw a tear escape her eye and he could feel her body recoil in pain.

“Addeline? Are you alright?”

“I can’t do this, Papa. It hurts too badly.”

“My love, I think I can be quick,” he reasoned, “Why don’t you grip to my back and try to bare it a bit longer.”

She nodded her head, knowing she had no choice. She understood the burden placed on him by members of the ministry. However, the small cries and wet tears that escaped her forced her husband to stop abruptly, “You know what? It is okay, my sweet. We don’t have to do this now.”

The girl wiped her tears away and nodded in relief, “Thank you.”

“I’m just going to pull out. It might hurt a bit.”

Addeline looked down and watched as Papa slowly pulled out of her. There was a bit of blood on him and on the sheets as well. The friction from Papa’s thrusting had broken one of Addy’s stitches.

“Is it uncomfortable, Darling?”

She nodded, taking the sheets and holding them against her genitals.

“Let me fetch the midwife for you—”

“NO!” she cried out, not wishing to see anyone else, “Papa?”

“Yes, my love?”

“Can I go?”

Disheartened at how the evening turned out, he wanted to invite his wife to stay with him that night, “Darling, will you allow me to lay next to you tonight. I promise not to touch you. I’ll only hold you.”

“I’d rather go back to the nursery if that’s okay.”

He sighed in disappointment, “If that is your wish, Tesoro.”

Addeline jumped up and put her clothes back on. She sprinted out the door quickly, hell bent on getting back to her daughter. Papa felt like a failure. He was obviously disappointing the clergy but an even bigger disappointment now to his wife. She wouldn’t even lay down with him, he thought. He took his place in the empty bed and tried to close his eyes. He was unaware that his wife was suffering from post partem depression and the pressure placed on her by the clergy was only exacerbating those feelings. For as big of a failure as he felt, his wife felt it times one hundred.

*

A surprise guest graced the ministry's doorstep, none other than Swiss himself, appearing without his usual stage attire and without his bandmates in tow. His decision to pay a visit to the ministry was driven by a desire to meet the newest member of the family. Cirrus, who had recently visited the mother and child, exerted gentle pressure on Swiss to join in the joyous occasion. It seemed that most of the band members had already had the pleasure of meeting the little one and now it was his turn.

Swiss greeted Sister Imperator at the door, and she was pleased to see him.

"Swiss, I have some material I'd like you to go over when you have the chance," she mentioned business.

"Oh sure, yea. I'd love to but after I see this kid. Where is she?"

Sister rolled her eyes, "Our darling Elizabeth should be in the nursery with her mother. I'll go get her. Addeline isn't accepting visitors."

Swiss was confused, "What do you mean she's not accepting visitors?"

"She doesn't want to see anyone. She's locked herself in that room with the baby and we haven't seen much of her since the birth."

The ghoul was horrified, "Did anyone check on her? Or try talking to her."

Sister shook her head. He wouldn't admit it out loud, but he was quite disgusted at the ministry's lack of compassion for the new mother. He knew Addeline was sensitive and needed support.

"Let me give it a shot," he suggested, "Addy sometimes just needs to vent to someone who can offer a fresh perspective, outside the usual circle you have here."

“Knock yourself out,” Sister Imperator stepped aside and pointed in the direction of the nursery.

Swiss treaded softly past closed doors until he reached one adorned with a little pink ghoul. Cute, he thought. He gently knocked on the door and sought permission to enter, "Adds, it's me. Can I see Elizabeth?" After a moment of silence, he heard footsteps approaching, and the door creaked open to reveal a weary and drained Addy. "Jesus, you look like hell," he exclaimed, taken aback by her appearance, "Do they feed you?" he chuckled. Addy, devoid of emotion, turned and walked away, leaving the door ajar for him.

Swiss, with a look of wonder on his face, inquired, "Where do you keep her?"

The woman gestured towards a crib nestled in the corner. Swiss's eyes landed on the slumbering child. As he approached, the soft sounds of the baby's breathing filled the room. Slowly, the infant stirred, revealing a pair of eyes that captivated Swiss. One eye sparkled blue, reminiscent of a clear diamond, while the other gleamed black like Addeline's. This striking feature, a gift from Papa Emeritus, caught Swiss off guard, "Wow," he murmured, caught up in the moment, "She's breathtaking, Addy. You did good."

Addy broke her silence, uttering, "She's not a boy." It was the first word she’d spoken in days.

Perplexed, Swiss questioned, "I'm sorry, what?"

Addy clarified, "She's just a girl. Nobody here cares about that child."

Swiss, undeterred, drew closer to the baby, admiring her enchanting eyes, "Addeline, there's no way every soul here isn't doting on this kid," he remarked, his voice filled with sincerity. Addy sighed, but Swiss continued, "No, seriously, look at her. She's the spitting image of you. She's absolutely beautiful. You should be proud.”

Addy, opening up a bit more, shared, "I thought for sure I'd give him a boy the first try. I was so sure of myself. Arrogant even. I guess I’m embarrassed."

Swiss, shaking his head gently, handed the baby to Addy, "Addeline, cut that ridiculous shit out. You know me. I'll tell you straight. This is a perfect baby. So, what if she's not a boy? A boy would belong to the clergy. This one belongs to you."

Swiss's stomach churned as he discussed the possession of children, but he understood the power dynamics within the clergy mirrored royalty. There was a hierarchy. He felt a bit sad knowing that Addeline was once a normal girl that had now been brainwashed to believe this way of thinking.

“You know, Adds, you might consider talking to a doctor. You sound like you got the baby blues. Tell Copia.”

“You think I’m depressed?”

“I think your hormones are playing a cruel joke on you,” Swiss longed to take some of the burden off the girl and place it on her lack of sleep and food deprivation. “You’re going to be okay, kid,” he gently nudged her on the shoulder. “I’ll see you around.”

Swiss left, a smile on his face, hoping to offer a glimmer of hope to the new mother. However, as he stepped into the hallway, his smile faded, replaced by anger towards Copia for not providing the care Addeline needed. He made his way to the Cardinal's office, where he entered after knocking.

“Why, Swiss, hello. I assume you came to see Elizabeth?"

"I saw her," Swiss replied, "She is pretty. She has your eyes too. Congratulations." Continuing, Swiss expressed his concern, "Listen, Papa Emeritus, I don't want to overstep any boundaries here, but Addeline is struggling. I think she needs to see a doctor."

Surprised, Copia inquired, "A doctor? You really think so? She isn't sick."

"A head doctor, Cardinal."

He froze for a moment, contemplating the idea, "I do not think the clergy members want Addeline talking to outsiders about what goes on here."

Swiss, understanding Copia's position, explained, "Well, you have to do something! She's not eating or sleeping. She's hung up on the fact that she had a girl. She's depressed. Get a doctor to prescribe her something, will ya? Too often after babies are born the mother is left neglected."

“You think I’ve neglected Addeline?”

Afraid he had offended the man he quickly backtracked, “No, I don’t think that, but she might. It’s not her fault, she’s a victim to her own mind at the moment. Help her out.”

The Cardinal, appreciative of the advice, assured Swiss, "Yes, thank you, I will."

“Good,” the ghoul nodded as he exited the room. He knew Copia would make good on his promise. From what he’d witnessed in the past the man did care for Addy and her well-being even if he didn’t always know how to show it.

Heeding Swiss's advice, Copia had the midwife pay Addy a visit. Saoirse, who had been an ever-supportive presence throughout the girl's pregnancy, evaluated Addeline and prescribed an anti-depressant for the young woman. Papa wanted a full report on his wife's progress and inquired, "How is she?"

“Ah, Cardinal, Miss Addy is in a fair bit of sorrow. She'll be needin’ a good rest and a good feed.”

“Is that all?” he wondered, thinking to himself that she had been offered plenty to eat.

“I did give Miss Addy some medicine to help her mind, but the lass is in need of ye’re presence, Cardinal. Why not lend a hand with the bairn in the nursery? It might lift her spirits a wee bit.”

“Thank you, Saoirse,” he graciously expressed his gratitude to the woman.

*

The Cardinal was working late into the morning hours and decided to make himself a cup of coffee. Normally, Sister Annaliese would be at his side waiting on him to request small things such as this, but the hour was too late even for the sister of sin.

He rose from his office chair and made his way into the kitchen. He saw his wife plundering through the cabinets. He was surprised to see her out of the nursery, "Tesoro," he shouted, startling the young woman, "Are you hungry, my sweet?"

"Papa, hello."

"Hello," he smiled, "My darling, let me make you something."

"No, that's okay," she quickly assured him, "I was only looking for a snack."

"You need to eat something, my love. Please, sit. I am a great cook. I can whip something up for you in no time."

"I should really get back to Elizabeth."

Papa wasn't going to take no for an answer this time, “Forgive me, Addeline but you’ve become so withdrawn from me. Swiss tells me you are not happy. He tells me you are quite upset about the gender of our daughter.”

“I am only saddened at the thought of letting you down,” Addy admitted.

“You have not let me down,” he said.

Addy sighed and reminded him of when he came to her in the nursery, “You told me we needed to start trying for a boy. You’re just like them.”

Regret instantly filled his mind. He shook his head and apologized vigorously, “I should not have done that. I didn’t understand your delicate state at the time, Amore. I will never let them influence my thoughts on the matter again.”

Papa was struggling to convey to his wife that the gender of their first child didn't matter to him. All he wanted was to have her back in his arms, feeling her presence and love once again. He missed her deeply and was willing to do whatever it took to make things right between them.

Now, here in the kitchen, he had his chance to bring her back, “Tesoro, I want you. I know that you’re scared, and I know you’re sad. I know you’re overwhelmed. But amongst those feelings, is there too a longing for me? Do you miss me?” his voice had become desperate.

Addeline stared into his mismatched eyes, beginning to let some of her walls down. With a smirk she stated, “They’re going to replace me if I can’t have a boy.”

Copia laughed, “Replace you? Tesoro, do you really think I’d let them give me a new bride?”

Addie shook her head, agreeing with him that she trusted the man would never toss her out for another.

“I’m scared,” she admitted. “I’m terrified to get pregnant again, Papa.”

“Do you not want more children with me, Bella Mia? Do you not desire me at all?”

“It’s not that,” she assured him, “I think about you all the time. I think about you day and night.”

“I am here, Amore. I am here right now, take me now. If you desire me then have me now—”

“—I don’t want to set myself up for failure again, Papa,” her voice cracked as she pushed out the words.

“Addeline, look at me,” the Cardinal had had enough. He was kind but firm, “You curse the Clergy for calling our daughter a failure, yet here you stand before me agreeing that she is not good enough. You must stop this.”

“Papa, I never said…”

“Uh uh,” he hushed her by placing two fingers over her lips, “Do you trust me?”

“Of course, I trust you,” she said.

“Then trust that it does not matter to me one damn bit if you have 1 girl or 20. What matters to me is you and I cannot go on without my wife.”

She studied Papa Emeritus as he stood there waiting for any kind of response. She gawked at his features, his lips, his eyes, his strong hands, his broad shoulders. She hadn’t considered that he too was suffering in his own way, and she felt regret for letting him suffer in alone.

“Forgive me, Papa,” she said flatly, “You’ve reached out to me so many times these past weeks and I just shut you out.”

“Don’t fret, Amore. What you’ve been through must be difficult. But whatever comes from here on out let’s go through it together.”

She wrapped her soft hands around Copia’s neck, embracing him. Feeling her warm chest against his gave him chill bumps. He needed her immediately. He couldn’t take it anymore.

“Tesoro,” he turned her head ever so slightly and gently nibbled down her neckline, “Give yourself to me.”

She melted into his touch, as he moved from her neck to her mouth, “Amore, I have to have you, please.”

She pulled him back to her lips and kissed him hard. She jumped up and straddled his abdomen. The cardinal welcomed her weight, holding her by her back and bottom as he walked toward his bedroom. He opened the door without breaking their kiss and placed her on her feet gently. She let her satin gown fall to her feet and watched as the Cardinal too undressed himself. He lifted her once more and carefully placed her onto his bed where she welcomed the weight of his body on top of her. Addy playfully bit his neck as he used his tongue to explore her newly engorged nipples. As he went to put one of them into his mouth she quickly warned, “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

The warning came much too late, and the cardinal got a mouthful of breast milk.

"Ah, yes. I forgot," he chuckled, a hint of self-amusement in his voice, glancing at Addy and realizing she was laughing too. Her laughter was a melody to his ears, a sound he hadn't heard in what felt like an eternity, a precious sound he thought he might never hear again. He did not wish to spoil such a moment with his lustful thoughts and asked his wife if she was sure she wanted to go through with what they were about to do, “I will not do anything without your consent ever again, my darling,” he promised, getting very close to her ear so she could feel his breath against her neck, “I will not take you unless you want me to.”

Addeline felt a rush of emotions in that moment. She had not realized how much she had missed feeling this love from her husband. Now, with his body on hers, the warmth emitting from his skin, she was desperate for him.

“I’m still very tender, Papa,” she gave him the permission he desired, “You have to be careful.”

“I promise, love. I will be so gentle.”

After almost a month, he couldn’t wait to feel her again. He’d almost forgotten what it was like to experience her heat around him. He softly slid himself into the woman, “How is that?” he asked, barely moving his hips.

“That’s good,” she said.

She had closed her eyes and began biting her upper lip. She was biting so hard that it began to bleed.

“My dear?” Copia began, “You can tell me if you need me to stop.”

“No, I’m fine,” her legs began to tremble.

The Cardinal continued to slide deeper into her, “May I go faster?” he asked.

She nodded frantically, needing more of him and willing to risk her own health if it meant she’d achieve that state of pure bliss which she hadn’t felt since the night of Elizabeth’s birth.

He slammed his hips into her, causing her to lose her breath. She glanced down at his handy work, beads of sweat forming on her brow, as she requested him to go harder.

She let her head fall back against the pillow as the Cardinal sped up his pace, so intensely that the headboard began to bang against the wall. He was panting like a dog in heat which was very unlike him. Normally he was able to keep his breathing somewhat steady but tonight he was hungry for her. It caused Addy to shiver the way she had always done right before letting go.

He held tightly to her and seductively whispered into her ear, "Do you want me to put a boy inside of you?"

Desperate to give him that one thing, she responded wildly, "Yes!"

"Yes what?" the man wanted confirmation of her desires.

Again, Addy cried out, "I want you to give me a boy, Papa! I want it more than anything!"

He sensed she might be close to release now, and he growled, “Don’t you dare cum yet.”

“I don’t think I can stop myself," she cautioned him,

“You don’t have permission to cum yet, Tesoro.”

But it was too late. Her orgasm flooded over her like a tsunami, “I’m! So! Sorry! Papa!” she continued shouting apologies through her state of bliss. It felt so good she didn’t care what Papa would do to her for not obeying him. The man continued to fuck her until he too received relief. Emptying himself into Addeline was a nice change from the tissue paper he’d been forced to use.

She felt dizzy and on the verge of exhaustion when it was all over. The tender touch of Papa's fingers beneath her chin guided her gaze to meet his, a silent plea for connection in his eyes.

“Did you just cum on Papa’s cock, my darling?” he asked her, teasingly.

“I tried not to. I know you wanted it to last.”

“That is alright, my sweet. You are my good girl,” he told her, combing through her locks of messy hair. He placed a hand onto her forehead, almost as if he were a parent checking a child’s temperature.

“Are you alright, Amore? You’re feverish.”

“I’m fine. I just don’t think I’ve ever cum so hard in my life,” she admitted, “I can feel my heart through my chest.”

Papa laughed, “Oh I don’t know about that.”

Addy rose from the bed and began to walk towards the bathroom. She stopped abruptly and turned around just long enough to say, “Will you have them bring Elizabeth to me so I can feed her?”

“In here? In my room?”

“Yes, silly,” she laughed and continued walking.

The Cardinal’s face lit up. This was the first time Addy would be caring for their daughter in his room. He knew at that moment she was moving back in with him, “Of course, Amore.”

As the door closed and the shower came on, the Cardinal thought about everything he had to be thankful for—a precious daughter, an obedient, loving wife. He was the happiest he had ever been. Even if they forced him to retire, even if they killed him, he would die happy.

[jimmy-carmine]

So, some problems accessing D2 today so I instead decided to go back in time 10 years to where it all began

This may be the first time in a very long time that I've used my Xbox, given my inability to find the controller

This guy is still kicking around. Having missed out on the character transfer from D1 to D2, I've let this guy retire. The character is always there if I want to use it, but headcanon is he's out at Lady Efrideet's pacifist retreat, exploring better ways to use his Void Light beyond slaughtering Fallen, Vex, and Cabal.

He's having a great time...

Less so this guy, I really wish I could hold down the Screenshot button on Xbox like I can with Steam, there was an amazing bit of sideye your character gives the Speaker while he's mid-speech

Hello, I am familiar looking dumbass space wizard dude, I sure hope nothing bad happens to this fancy tower and the room where I keep all my stuff

So, I've gone back and created my D2 Titan in D1, I know my original headcanoning was that he was a post-Red War New Light, but I decided to go full George Lucas and retroactively change everything!

That's right, I was The Young Wolf the whole time!

This also gives me a great excuse to play The Taken King and Rise of Iron, which I missed out on first time around as I had drifted away to offline gaming due to my housing at the time not really having much in the way of useful internet

I've clocked in about 7 hours of Destiny this evening (which wasn't the plan for tonight) and I'd forgotten how different the game felt from Destiny 2. Not that it detracted from my enjoyment, it felt like no time at all had passed and I was back at it again... a feeling probably helped by the fact I ran the D2 Sepiks Prime strike yesterday so the D1 version felt very familiar

I'd forgotten how much I loved the original Tower, and the nostalgia when I was in Orbit or Warping my way to Venus/Mercury for the TTK Solar quest was incredible

I think I'm going to enjoy popping back to this every now and then

[accidentalmistress]

Accidental Mistress - Take

Know what today is? IT'S DOUBLE POST DAY.

That's right, I'm posting two Accidental Mistress fics, because the one that was scheduled to be posted today (this one) is really dang short. And you, my lovely readers, deserve more. So more you shall have!

Also this one is kind of sad and doesn't have any sneeze content, only whump. WARNING: this piece delves a bit into Noelle's past trauma and therefore may be a little heavy. If you're only in the mood for sexy fun, you may want to skip to the next piece.

(More Accidental Mistress content can be found on the Master Post.)

Title: Take

Word Count: 660

Content and Warnings: whump, sexual assault (remembered)

In which painful memories make a midnight manifestation.

---------------------

"You are forgetting your place, my dear little Single-winged Sparrow."

Such a voice, soft as a mother's caress and beautiful as the rain, should not be able to say such things. If felt as an injustice to the very order of the world.

"Remember, I have but a single use for you, as you have failed my every other expectation."

Fingers cold as death touched her face. She wanted to shrink away from that touch, but her body would not obey.

"I do not tolerate failure, my dear… but I am not wasteful of things with some value. There is still a chance for you to bear the Sisterhood a daughter who possesses the aptitude you do not. So long as you serve this purpose, you have worth to me."

Those fingers grabbed her jaw, sharp nails digging into her cheeks, as the smoking void that was a face glared at her with unseen eyes.

"I will send another this night. You had best hope that this time your womb accepts the seed, for if you cannot fulfill even this simple task… then I have no use for you."

The hand released her jaw with a harsh shove that knocked her back onto the floor.

"Things that are useless, worthless, have no purpose or value—such things I do not squander my time upon. I am not wasteful. Remember that, little Single-winged Sparrow."

Somehow she found her voice as the sound of footsteps retreated and darkness closed in.

"Mother… Please, no… Please! Mother?"

The gilded cage with the void-face inside swayed as it was carried further and further away, ignoring her cries.

"Mother! Please don't… I don't want to…"

As the last of the light faded, leaving her in suffocating darkness, another set of footsteps approached. Heavier. Harder.

"No… No, please! I don't want to! Mother!"

A vague shape in the dark, an oppressive shadow, pressed in on her, smothering her as rough hands touched her body, held her down. Her movements were sluggish and weak, powerless against the unfolding horror. The shadow forced her legs apart, even as she sobbed.

"Mother!"

Noelle shot up in bed, clutching her blankets to her chest as sweat ran down her back and dripped from her brow. Her lungs pulled in gulps of air with shuddering breaths. The room swam in the darkness without her glasses, but relief washed over her with the affirmation that it was indeed her room.

"Mmh? What is it?"

His sleepy voice beside her was tinged with concern. Even as traces of the nightmare lingered in the tears on her cheeks, she didn't want to worry him. Those memories belonged in the past.

"It's n-nothing." Her voice betrayed her with a quaver. "Just a… a dream."

She waited for him to turn over and go back to sleep. She could process this on her own, always had. Instead Oraion sat up next to her, his touch a gentle warmth on her arm.

"What do you need?"

A sob welled in her throat. His hands were never rough with her, never touched her in ways she did not like, never forced her to do things she did not want. Noelle fell against him, pressing her face into his chest. How could a demon be the kindest person she knew? The only people in her life that deserved to be called demonic were always human.

"It's all right, I’m here. I will never allow anything to harm you… my dear Mistress."

Strong arms pulled her in close, rubbing her back with a large, warm hand. Sheltered in his embrace, she believed him. Under the protection of Oraion, wielding the power of a Greater Demon, she would never again experience those horrors. Even if she was a sparrow with only one wing, Oraion would always be there to lend her his.

Once Noelle’s tears had dried, she fell asleep cradled in her beloved Servant’s arms, and that night she dreamed no more.

[loud-re-noisy]

Writing post about my OC stuff. It's very rough and probably sucks, buuuuut shrug.

Prologue: Shadows and Premonitions.

A gray haired man stands in an empty black expanse, he notices a bright flashing light from the corner of his eye. As he walks toward it, he is able to discern what looks like a large object is what's giving off the flashing lights. The object starts flashing more and more violently, then suddenly the object explodes. The man finds himself back in the empty black void, but notices he’s now holding a pair of glasses with strange black and white symbols painted on the sides of the temples. He puts them on, and suddenly finds himself in a giant chamber, with a giant object in the center.

Everything in this facility is in a state of ruin. After roaming around the chamber for a little bit, the man decides to leave through an open blast door leading to the observation deck, and the rest of the facility. The man notices some strange occurrences while walking through these hallways, objects being moved around where he’s not looking, occasionally catching a glimpse of movement leaving his field of vision.

The Man hits a dead-end, but upon turning back, he spots something at the other end of the hallway. A strange little black blob approaches him, giving the man a very curious look upon reaching him. They stare at each other, the man decides to kneel down to get a closer look at the black critter, the little black blob does the same by moving closer to the man’s face. The man reaches his hand out to touch the creature, which didn’t seem to perturb it at first, but just when his hand was about to make contact, the inky blob gave out a startled look, and immediately retreated from him.

The man was confused at first, but then, he felt a threatening presence behind him, turning around to look back at the dead end, he spotted the entity that caused the black blob to retreat.The creature’s “face” seemed to rotate in a manner that even the man knew was not natural; as its “mouth” opened, the monster revealed its true face, with eyes and teeth that gave off a threatening red glow. The Man immediately got back up on his feet and ran, as the masked monster gave chase.

Eventually, the man managed to evade the masked monster, and found himself alone again, but not for long. His next encounter were three little white creatures, two of which floated around effortlessly in the air, and started harassing the shaken old man. Then suddenly, the black blob from before appeared again, and defended the man from his harassers. The three ghosts retreated upon being defeated, leaving the man alone with his new found inky companion.

Suddenly, the little guy spits out a flat card-like object, and nudges it for the man to investigate it. The card is covered in a seemingly non washable inky substance, covering bits other than a picture of the man, and the letters “Dr.” and “PHD”. Somehow, the man instantly recognized those letters meant “Doctor” and “Doctor of Philosophy” respectively. Upon realizing this, the man concludes that this must be his ID-Card; but because of the ink, his only clue about himself is that he’s a Doctor of Science or something.

The inky fella hops around, seemingly trying to get the man’s attention to follow him to somewhere, leading him to a room scattered with burnt notes, and torned papers. The inky creature gestured toward an open book that is completely intact, showing a sketch of itself with the title “ORB-001: Shade” on it. The Doctor (which the man decides to go by for now) flips through other bits of the book, recognizing some other entities he’s encountered before like the three white creatures “Ghost”, “Specter”, “Wight”, and the Masked Monster “Haunt”. Doctor closes and carries the book in his arm, and pets his new friend who he now recognizes as “Shade”. And then the two set off to find a way out of the facility.

Don’t really know how to transition all this to the rest of the prologue, but this is basically the part where Doc and Shade start aimlessly exploring around the facility, fending off encounters with other supernatural beings like the before mentioned Ghosts, Specters, etc… If we are speaking from the RPG perspective, this entire section is all just to teach the player how combat generally works without getting super in-detail later on in the actual first act. (Yeah I think I can already tell that I might need to rewrite this later lol)

After exploring for a bit, they eventually have a run in with the Haunt again, and this time they have no choice but to fight it. Few unsuccessful blows later, the Haunt begins acting strange, as it starts sounding like it’s in pain. The Haunt’s body starts to distort and mutate as it grows in size all of the sudden. The Monstrous hairball has now morphed into a more humanoid shape, with arms and a torso, the Haunt, has now transformed into its fully evolved form, “Uncanny”. Now more agile and even more powerful, the Uncanny lands a devastating blow on Doc, slamming his back against the wall. Shade desperately diverts it’s foe’s attention to itself, however the Uncanny just responds by slinging a magical spell that sends the Shade flying. Shade struggles to get back up, while Uncanny prepares to finish off The Doctor. Then suddenly, a strange beam of energy is shot at the Shade, blinding the other two for a short while. After both Doc and the Uncanny regain sight, they notice that in Shade’s place, a Tall Humanoid Figure has taken its place. The Dark Shadowy figure lets out a distorted roar, and charges at the Masked Demon with immense speed, landing a huge blow on Uncanny, and sending it away from Doc. The Two Monsters duke it out for a bit until the Shadow breaks apart a bit of the Uncanny’s mask, causing it to flee. While a bit shaken up at first, the Doctor quickly realizes that this Shadow is his Shade friend. The Shadow helps the Doctor back up on his feet, and they both realize that they were being watched by some of the weaker beings in the facility, who all seem to be applauding the two for defeating Uncanny. The three ghosts that harassed Doc earlier all danced happily around the two. As a sign of gratitude, the other Supernatural beings help lead the way back up to the surface, and so, The Doctor, and his Shadow, successfully escape the facility, and start the beginning of an odyssey in a world of Discord, and Harmony.

End of Prologue.

[cptn-m]

One Piece chapter 1108 review

Ooh, this is actually heating up right when I was expecting Egghead to start winding down and continue cutting off sources of tension. There was a point a year and a bit ago where the question might have been asked, 'why this arc, on this island?' If Oda is rushing to the finale, what does Egghead offer that Elbaf doesn't, and what will it add to contribute to the macro-level plot? Up til now, aside from wrapping up stories for supporting cast members like Bonney and Kuma, it seemed that maybe the main thing here was getting the scientists in the party and setting up more Void Century teases to develop more later. Well I think now we're getting the big thing that made Egghead unskippable.

But first we've got a Jump cover here, the latest in a long line of 'Luffy is about to punch you' covers, now in Gear Five form, and a very relaxed colour spread. Sure, why not give Uta another appearance in the manga. But what's that going on between Reiju and Tashigi? But my favourite thing here is the dapper canines in the portraits in the background. Cute stuff.

Caribou's scene feels like more of a recap than anything. I'm actually surprised to see him and the Blackbeard Pirates again so soon, I would have been satisfied if their time on Egghead wrapped up with the last chapter. Of course, there's no chance they choose not to take him with them, even if Oda leaves it ambiguous.

Now, I'm not a firearms guy. I don't live in one of those countries where you see them regularly. But is it just me or is Augur's form with the rifle really bad here, with the stock all the way out the back. You're meant to use that thing to brance for the recoil, right? So if he pulls the trigger this weird way he's holding it, the whole thing just slips between his arms and goes flying backwards, wouldn't it? I'll accept corrections for anyone who does know guns on this point.

I love getting names for all the vice admirals here. It's the details. Guillotine is still my favourite design of the batch.

The talk about taking back control of the Pacifistas by eliminating Bonney feels odd though. Is that how it works? So a person of equal rank in the hierarchy can't override orders, but the death of the current top dog will let someone lower down cancel their standing orders? Pacifista control is a mess, and for all the ways Egghead has been a breath of fresh air post-Wano, it's complicated contrivances like this that drag it down in the end-of-arc retrospective.

The giants' meetup with Franky's group has some interesting points. First: they don't recognise Franky because his bounty picutre was changed to the Sunny's figurehead. But that's still weird. It can't have been done just to set up this half-second misunderstanding. Franky's ready to square up, making the at this point safe assumption they've come as enemies, which is great from him. We learn that Usopp's been talking about his time with the giants to the crew since Franky joined. You have to assume that kind of offscreen bonding is happening, but it's always nice getting the little confirmations of it.

Glad to see one of the weaponised sea beasts survived. And Bluegrass and Doll manage to look very cool riding it back to Egghead. I wonder if Doll's connection to Saul is setting up a bigger arc or moment for her, or if it's just an excuse to remind casual readers of his name.

Saturn is truly terrifying in his new form. That's fantastic design. Even before Sanji points it out, you can see something is wrong with his eyes. That is one intense stare. And the fact that he doesn't speak once in the whole chapter makes him feel all the more inhuman. What is this man now, if he's still a man at all?

But where did Borsalino go after the last chapter's standoff. Has there been a little offscreen clash with Luffy and Sanji he's just retreated from? Was he forced to get out of the way as demon Saturn stampeded in? I'd rather have seen either of those things than releared what Caribou knows at the start of the chapter. It's not a hard one to explain, but it still feels like a continuity glitch, which is frustrating. It came up during the 'who fed Luffy' discussions in the past week that Luffy's position changes before and after the flashback, last seen in Franky's hands going in, then lying a decent way away from the group with no apparent action taken by him or Franky after. If there was one thing you could absolutely say in the Onigashima battle's favour, it's that it was intricately and carefully mapped. We had the layout of the whole castle and knew where everyone was inside it. No one teleported from one side to another in a single page, they got at least a little bit of offscreen time to travel before popping up somewhere new. The attention to detail was a highlight there, which makes it all the more disappointing that this battle's staging misses beats like this.

I can't help feeling really bad for Vegapunk as he lays dying here. Not because I'm super personally invested in him, but just because it feels so wrong for the character design. He's so goofy and cartoony with the apple head and forever-lolling tongue that he feels like he should be incompatible with blood. This guy should be giving me the tutorial of an edutainment game, not having his guts blasted out. Like a child, or a housepet, the apparent innocence makes it feel even crueller to attack him. (Apparent innocence only, we all know his morality is questionable at best given the horrors he enabled for the World Government.)

Borsalino getting to finish the job is a shock, and yeah, the monitor at the end does make me think the job is finished. Rough, and unexpected. I was better on Kuma's death and Vegapunk's rescue, but it looks like I got it the wrong way around. Luffy's giant transformation is an awesome panel, with just the intensity you want for a moment like this. No notes. I also love the smaller panel of the page showing him from ground level, towering over the buildings. Would love a bigger and more detailed form of that next week please.

And then the stinger. Vegapunk seems to have set up a dead man switch with some big secrets. This is great. Perfect thing for the smartest man in the world to do, especially considering how long he'd been expecting an attempt on his life was coming. And it has the potential to be huge for the world. A turning point. Potentially the start of a war or several. I don't think we're getting the full Void Century here, of course, but it's hard to imagine it playing out without at least one major reveal. And how will the Government respond? With the Buster Call running too slow, will Imu turn the Mother Flame on Egghead, triggering an escape sequence (and maybe cutting the exposition dump short because this is One Piece). The potential for this is huge. Huge.

I'm always happy to be getting three chapters in a row, but I'm so glad this one didn't line up with a break. See you all next week when the bombs drop.

Read on Wordpress!