#.....and prolly a fanfiction.......

[muddthebugg]

okay so immediately after drawing that pic/ref sheet of Eddie, I got hit with the sillies. unfortunately I only have one of em drawn, the rest is gonna be just words!

(also this is about to be a headcannons post. again. so buckle up >:]c )

His Mandibles (Pedipalps???)

in the image I drew of his demon form, it is noted "He gets it from his ma. Also he is pissed off"

He does indeed! I've yet to post the reference doodles I made to try and imagine what his ma n da look like

He usually doesn't use em when he can avoid it. They creep other people out a lil (he himself likes bugs. Perhaps he wanted to be an entomologist at some point?)

Mangus finds them to be really cool

Asks and then dares to do stuff to the point where one day Ophelia finds them and a whole host of other people cheering Eddie on in the Mead Hall as he proceeded to eat a razorelk's cooked hind leg whole.

(It works. Crowd goes fuckin crazy,, XD)

Ophelia eventually drags him away for something and as soon as he sits down, she turns around and finds him snoring (food coma).

His Wings

okay I love their in-game design but like. idk

also listed in that image I drew in his demon form: "Wings are underdeveloped at first; can't fly proper but can glide! (Flies better with tail :]c )"

look. no way he can fly so fast, especially with such little surface area they take up!! Also most of the craetures that fly iirc have tails or some similar structure to aid them so don't come at me okay

i just wanna make him sillay it's fine :]c

also I kept thinking about it so I drew this:

no way this hasn't happened at least ONCE.

i can also see Mangus egging him on about it and being the one to first see him fly forreal

prolly ends up getting a special jacket/vest made since his first one. yknow. has two giant jagged holes in it.

His Childhood

not too much on this front, tbh

I can imagine his da having been being affectionate by way of contact; lots of shoulder touches, hair ruffles, hugging, tackling, playful cuffing, suddenly picking him up, etc.

He ate with the grace of an excited puppy. as in, very messy (it took his da a while to get him to stop because his ma ate similarly and he found it cute/endearing)

People always called his da "Riggs" and always called Eddie "Lil Rig" or sometimes (to his torment) "Lil Riggy"

He was DEFINITELY the kind of kid that got harnessed in public places (mall), like in that one meme format/picture

His da always told stories about himself and his ma, and they were super fantastical. As he got older, Eddie assumed that they played DND or something (despite his da having little clue what DND was), and only somwtime after encountering the Zaulia does he realize: "oh shit this is what he was talking about."

[who-always-pays-their-taxes]

Why do you (as in the royal you) as a member of a fandom,, seem to believe that things need to be,,, canon??? in fanfiction??? why would? that ever be? if you wanted to read pure canon, you could,,,, idk,,, read canon? pick up the source material,,, and if you wanted to read pure canon fanfiction just search the ‘canon compliant’ tag. that’s how ao3 works. so silly.

[violetashfall]

Clumsy Boy.

Where Carl is a wreck...

┊ ➶ ｡˚

!basically fem reader (No physical disc) - 3rd person!

Pretend Warnings;

Cringey

Carl is a complete loser in this !!

Got some notes at the end of the fic, just me complaining...

Carl Grimes had gotten significantly more uncoordinated after he lost his eye… his depth perception was not what it once was, and paired with the headaches and brain fog, his clumsiness only got worse.

He took offence to the way his eye deceived him, looking so insulted whenever a water bottle hit his lips before he could part them, how forks kept knocking against his teeth when he tried to take in food.

One person who always witnessed his struggles was [name], she couldn’t help but notice his stumbles and the empty grasps he made whenever he missed whatever he wanted to hold.

His clumsiness was ever-present in how close he got to her while talking and walking, always finding himself a few many steps too close. He tried to make it seem casual, he totally meant to stand foot-to-foot with her–He didn’t even notice when the rim of his sheriff’s hat hit against her head–and when he took those very slow steps back, they were so inconspicuous he might as well have been a ninja…

But of course, Carl was lying to himself, he looked like Bambi learning to walk on ice whenever he was with the poor girl who kept falling victim to his wobbly brain.

But [name] found it sweet – Carl looked so flustered when he accidentally wavered too close, how his lanky arm bumped into hers when they walked… his coordination skills only got worse when the sun came out, blinding his only good eye and making his foggy brain ache further.

It was how he ended up in such an awkward situation: He hated ladders with a burning passion now his mind was constantly dizzying. He had to climb one at the lookout post during the summer day, clinging close to the rung bars - focusing on not getting too woozy. [name] stood at the top, looking over Alexandria with her hand extended for him to take - the one he missed as he clambered to the top with the fear of a tiny puppy - for such a strong boy, he was acting like a kid terrified of heights, throwing himself into the lookout with zero grace and little self-preservation left.

[name] couldn’t dodge him quick enough when Carl tumbled into her, the crown of his head harshly knocking into her chin - making [name] freeze as the force drove her to bite her tongue. When Carl felt the clunk on the top of his head it was already too late, eye-level with [name] once his legs were fully straightened, already taking a tripped step forward and already hanging off her to stop his fall. Their noses hit each other and worst of all, their lips ungainly brushing together.

[name] pushed herself back and forced him upright in a split second, hearing his thick boots thudding against the floor as he stabilised himself. [name] fell backwards raggedly, tripping on her shoelace - his clumsiness was infectious apparently. Not only did [name] feel her sore teeth and hammering chin, but her lips were also buzzing like his had zapped an electric current through them. Her nose wrinkled at him, pure perplexity taking her face as she stared–

“Jesus, Carl!” She exclaimed like a bruised child, She was a bruised child; tasting that pinprick of blood that pipped out her bitten tongue, knowing she’d get a purple mark on her chin from his thick skull colliding with it. The one day he didn’t wear that stupid sheriff's hat… at least it'd cushion the blow.

Carl looked down at her, eye shot open and brain paused in a deep drowning feeling of mortification… and an upcoming migraine. “I’msorry–” His words spilt so fast they were incoherent, hands extended yet frozen by his sides - he had practically just attacked her–Thrown himself at her like she was a lake and he needed to hide from the wasps swarming his head–and it didn’t even work! His brain burned, lit ablaze by the thoughts in his head telling him he was an idiot, asking himself why it was always her.

“You sneeze on me yesterday and now break my jaw?” She whined dramatically, grumbling and pouty, cupping her chin and instinctively touching her lips. She gawped at Carl who's face was burning scarlet - not only had he been weird with her for months, hindering his progress with her at every turn by stepping on her toes or stabbing her with his fingernails when trying to hold her hand–something he was so embarrassed by he was timid to try again, especially after she began figuring out what his murderer name would be after he finally killed her–He had also just ruined his chances further by attacking her with his gracelessness.

“--I didn’t mean to,” Carl cringed at himself, heart pounding in his chest as he kept inwardly begging for the world to swallow him up right there, partly wanting to glare at her for bringing up when he sneezed on her - he had begged her to forget about it, he just wanted her to think he was cool. “Both times,” He muttered, “Any of the time–All of it.” He spilt, moving towards her with stumbled steps and fumbling arms. He tried to help her up - thanking god he at least held her hand with more ease this time.

He couldn't believe himself, he wasn’t awkward, he was outspoken and smart - but Jesus, he did not act like it... especially now, staring at her apologetically with a tight grasp on her upper arm as if she would flee if he let go, but in reality, it was to stop himself from falling to his face without her support, he felt dizzy.

“You’re fine,” [name] said, side-eyeing him as he helped her stand, feeling his hands shake against her. She usually found his clumsiness endearing, but she was startled this time, so much to process about that split second interaction. One thing [name] could tell was how by that tiny grimace on his face - one clouded by the most dorky, cringed, expression ever - that he was at the start of a migraine, and so was she if the pain in her chin radiated any further through her skull.

She started hoping their mistaken kiss would turn him into… well, just a Carl who didn’t keep colliding into her… but he wasn't a frog, and she was no princess, she scowled too much for it.

"You are fine? Right?" She asked, brows furrowing as she inspected his expression, seeing his jaw tight and eye squinted. "Just, Just a headache." He said, shaking his head and diverting his face further, not exactly wanting to look into her eyes when he was so mortified.

[name] huffed, Carl was back to his normal stubborn denial now, just with some extra embarrassment - he knew damn well she was about to tell him to take his painkillers, he'd give her that look as if to say 'Don't baby me' - he wasn't a child who needed to be reminded… but he couldn't bring himself to look at her after that colossal fumble, still flushed and awkward from basically kissing her. "I'm fine." He repeated, voice holding tenseness, something about how [name] stood quiet for a few seconds too long made him know she'd be teasing him soon enough for the massive blunder... he just wanted to get over it... and maybe smirk and kick his feet while thinking about how her lips briefly felt against his.

"...Why are you smiling?" [name's] brows furrowed further, watching Carl who held an expression mixed with pain, mortification and somehow cheekiness... his mind somewhere else for a moment.

Carl's eye widened when she called him out, looking at her as his tiny, dopey smile fell and got replaced with blabbering lips, "Shutup." He grumbled - getting ripped away from his lovey thoughts - about to let her hand go, yet he couldn't bring himself to, palm stuck to hers like glue, wanting to hold it too much to let it go.

(A/N) I hate writing in 1st / 2nd perspective so I just didn't... the use of [name] is pretty robotic but, hey... I have no defence. I kinda wanted to make this a 'neutral pronoun' fic but got pissy that my WiFi wasn't working so I didn't...

I just wanted to try writing fanfiction.. This was supposed to be a bot, and probably will still be. I didn't capture his character because I made him a dorky whump - I was in a silly mood!!

So yeah, first fanfiction, I felt like a completely stereotypical teenage girl writing this and I don't mind it.

[rosemarysquirk]

T.G.I.F

|| cw: breeding kink, shameless smut LMAO fem reader implied but hey, omegaverse this if you please ||

|| wc: 516 ||

oh he is on you like a man possessed.

you don't even remember how it came up, but the next thing you knew, Hizashi was holding both of your shoulders and looking at you with big, sparkling eyes, even peeking up from behind those glasses of his which looked like they were about to fall off his face.

the only appropriate way to describe the way he had you laid out was a mating press, which was fitting with all the lewd words spilling out of his mouth. getting this man to spill his actually guts was a difficult task, one usually only Shouta or Nemuri could pull off..

though, you had managed it with one little idea. children.

Hizashi loved the idea of having kids of his own, more importantly, the sight of his lovely partner nice and pregnant. all plump and round with the little ball of joy growing inside of them.. and he wasn't afraid to let you know now that it was on the table. "God, you are just gonna look so damn sexy," he would whine into your ear, he was always so damn whiny. his arms would hook up under your knees, pressing your thighs tight against your chest while he slid his arms under you to hold onto your shoulders, leaving you at his complete mercy. how he could just fold you like a damn pretzel was beyond you, but you had other things to worry about.

"You're just gonna look so sexy with stretch marks baby, all swollen with my kids,, 'nd fuck your hips are gonna get so much wider.. can't wait for you to start lactating either- don't know how much I'll be willin' to share.."

only his voice, the wet suction between your two, sweat covered bodies, and the muffled playback of the music he was broadcasting filled the studio. "I can't wait to have a couple of kids running around.. can't wait, gods I can't wait. 'm gonna make sure you're nice and full, 'kay?" he would press his face into the side of your neck, his grin only growing wider as he repeatedly drilled his hips into yours, right on top of his sound panels. "Nice 'nd full, gotta keep you nice and full of me, baby.. gonna keep you pregnant 's long as I can.."

and really any voice you had left, only being able to let out high pitched whines and bubbly little noises from your throat, drool sliding down your chin as he quite literally fucked you silly. this man does not know slow, tender lovemaking, but then again, nothing about him is slow or tender.

he was probably on his third orgasm, and you had lost count, especially since every he pumped you full. he just wouldn't take a minute to stop and would immediately fuck any of his cum right back out of you, just to give you the excuse, ".. 's terrible to let it all go to waste like that.. gotta fill you up again."

needless to say, you were in for a longer friday night than you expected.

-----

|| banner credit: @/cafekitsune ||

|| AHHH HAIII i'm not dead i was just going thru life lmao anyway this is for tam hi tam i hope you enjoy || || P.S my reqs are ALWAYS open bbgs ||

[almightyshadowchan]

SNSmonth Day 22: Making Out

A scene from my fic Sunspots 🤗 (in which our ninja heroes manage to trip and fall into each other’s pants during a fake dating mission at a nightclub)

I really meant to post this weeks ago (y’know, during actual snsmonth) but better late than never, right? Right??

[crow-aeris]

okay yall, the brain worms are at it again....

-----

Jason screams, surging forward as tendrils erupted from what he had thought was an innocuous pendant.

"RED! WING- SHIT. ROB-”

"GO!" Dick, that self sacrificing IDIOT screams, clawing at the oily tendrils before being pulled toward the center and vanishing in a burst of golden light.

Jason jerks forward, fear like never before seizes his chest as he couldn't get his limbs to move. Terror pounded at his temples as he saw Tim hacking at the tendrils with a sharp batarang, the barest crack in his composed appearance was noticeable, and their eyes met from across the room. Even behind the domino mask, Jason could see a fierce resolution in his brother's expression (and the fear and knowing buried behind it).

"STOP STANDING THERE!" Tim shouts, and Jason barely manages to dodge the tendrils striking at him, "GO! GET HELP! G- GO!"

Jason curses, fighting back tears as Tim joined Dick in erupting into a dense smog of golden glow before rushing toward where Damian's unconscious body was hidden.

He tried to grab the kid- he tried. he TRIED- but he was too. fucking. late.

The disgusting black tendrils snatched damian right from his arms. His surroundings faded to a dull buzz for the briefest of moments before slamming back into him,

"GIVE. THEM. BACK!" Jason wailed screamed, snatching the gun from his side before pointing it at the pendant. He forced the primal terror away and ignored the third burst of gold and the sharp-pointed darkness surging toward him. He planted his feet, sucking in a shaky breath and yanked the trigger.

The sound of bullets filled the air, but… but nothing.

The tendrils snared him. The oily substance coated his skin, and he grits his jaw and continues to shoot. This was- this was their last. chance.

....

it doesn't work.

it doesn’t fucking work.

Jason screams, gold filling his vision as every single fiber of his body felt like it was being shredded and burned.

but just before his entirety was lost to the creeping darkness, the sound of SHATTERING filled the air, and everything… disappeared.

But… but that wasn't it, was it. No, it wasn’t, because nothing could EVER be easy when it comes to him, could it?

Against all fucking odds, Jason Peter Todd wakes up from death for the second time... but everything felt… wrong. Different. Uncanny… And why was he shorter???

He wrestles himself out of bed ignoring how achingly familiar the room was before finding a mirror suspiciously where he knew it would be, and seeing the reflection was all the confirmation needed.

He was... little. Small. Innocent, a pure little robin with his wings in tact…

Jason waits for the rage, the anger that accompanied by GREEN-GREEN-GREEN… but it never comes… Interesting…

More differences were that his hair was his natural black that gleamed a dakr red-brown in the right lighting, no white streak in sight. The scars sustained after his pit dip were also missing, and his eyes were still a brilliant cerulean hue...

What. The. Hell? Dear god, Jason utterly loathed time travel bullshit, and this entire clusterfuck was about as bull-fucking-shit as anything could ever get.

His eyes traced the image of his face incredulously, trailing down his chin before landing on a… familiar pendant. Jason snarled wordlessly, anger and frustration rising to his chest as he grabs the wretched thing and hurled it.

The pendant smashes against the wall, and Jason’s ears are suddenly filled with his brothers’ aguished and pained cries.

He lurches forward, guilt slamming into his chest as he gingerly picks up the despicable fucking fucknut of a goddamned object. If it had a mother (it’s creator?), Jason hopes the pendant has to someday watch them BURN. (And sure, it might not be logical to blame an inanimate object for his issues, but his brothers were missing, and he has to go through puberty all over again. Frankly, jason thinks he’s coping pretty fucking well compared to the duffle bag incident…)

There was a deep black string threaded through a miniscule hole at the top, not too unlike the tendrils that yanked him and his brothers away. Jason’s hands were shaking, and you could not find him dead wearing that stupid fucking bullshit-mechaniced deathtrap around his fucking neck (which was now distinctively bare of a thin scar that he had matching with tim), but he couldn’t throw it, lest Dick, Tim, and Damian’s souls were actually trapped in that godforsaken fucker of a pendant.

“Jay?” he hears his mom (could he even call her that? she- she wasn’t sheila, but catherine was a thousand times better… what was he even supposed to do???) call for him, “i heard a crash? is everything okay?”

“Y-yeah!” he calls back- oh god, was he always this- this fucking squeaky?! No fucking wonder bruce snatched him up, jesus christ. For fuck’s sake, he would’ve snatched himself up!

“Are you sure?” Catherine says, knocking gently at the door, “you don’t sound too well, jay.”

Jason swallows past the lump in his throat, feeling the sharp edges of the pendant dig uncomfortably into the palms of his uncalloused hands, “just- just a little cold, i promise!”

“…Okay, hon. Just let me know if you need anything, alright? i love you.”

“I love you too, mom,” Jason echoes, the words feeling like bitter ash on his tongue as the footsteps fade. Even if he was now a fucking pipsqueak, he needs to catalogue any injuries or changes he went through… which was how he discovers an almost tattoo-like marking of a black and gold skeletal bird resting above his beating heart. Poking at it didn’t hurt, but it made the pendant in his hand warm…

He had an idea… a plan if you will, and all it takes is a phone….

=====

PART 2, 3, 4

and the directory

[starry-bi-sky]

mmmmmore of that disciple shen yuan fic i've jumped into writing, because I thought this scene was funny and wanted to share.

----------

His features hint at a marble sharpness though, he twists his neck left to right, eyes locked on and zeroed in on the curve of his cheekbones, the angle of his brows, and the point of his nose. There’s a certain sort of— of regality, he thinks? The elegance of an imposing statue, the saints of Notre Dame looking down from their pedestals as if asking, ‘how dare you insult me with your presence’. Shen Qingqiu lets his face fall into a neutral expression, and all it does is highlight the subtle condescension and complete disinterest his face naturally wants to make. 

In short, Shen Qingqiu has the meanest resting bitch face he’s ever seen on a thirteen year old. 

Even one who looks pointedly exhausted and like he went camping without a tent. His messy hair and the thin streaks of blood he hadn’t managed to crust off earlier does nothing to even dissuade such a look; it’s as if they weren’t even there. 

Experimentally, Shen Qingqiu scrunches his nose up, and his face reflects back at him as if he’d smelt something foul. Weird, he thinks, and keeps the expression still as he traces his fingers across the faint grooves of his skin. After a moment, he drops the look, and shifts his mouth into a scowl, just to see what it would look like. 

It’s about as vicious and as menacing as he was expecting. 

Then he smiles, and it looks painful. It looks, well, blatantly forced. The lips pulled too far back, his teeth showing too much, and his eyes squinted slightly and cold. As if someone had stuck their fingers into the corners of his mouth and forced him to smile rather than him doing it of his own free will.  

Immediately, he drops the smile and it folds back into its disinterested neutral look. I look like I’m going to eat a child, he thinks, probably for the best that I don’t smile. 

[anonymouscheeses]

I just wantdd to share my fic. Its becoming way longer than i orginaky intendded for it to be but thats the work of writing i guess 😭

This is an angsty one, exprct absolute HURT. And then the comfort cz im not a monster 😎

(I LOVE GLASSHEART SMM RAHHH 🫶🫶)

[justaz]

ive never watched uhhh game of thrones?? i think?? but i saw a clip of that chick with white hair and the dragon and she lit herself on fire or something and came out of the flames alive and i was just thinking that + merlin + this post + this fic (kinda. sorta. in a way.)

so somehow arthur gets involved in the dragon egg shenanigans, maybe merlin goes to him first or arthur finds out some other way idc whatever anyway they all make their way to the tomb where the dragon egg should be and find it open and a dragon egg sitting on a pedestal surrounded by bits of charred remains and a whole lotta ashes

arthur + the knights are cautious but merlin is entranced by the egg and steps into the room which separates him from the group. arthur + the knights are frantically trying to find a way to get him but merlin doesn’t realize what’s happened as he continues to approach the egg and places his hands on it. instantly, the room ignites and merlin is bathed in the flames

despite a huge fear of merlin’s being the pyre, the flames hardly register in his mind. he can feel the dragon soul within the egg dancing under his touch, he can feel a bond forming between his soul and this baby dragon - it lights a fire within him and he feels alive and complete in a way he hadn’t ever felt before. the name “aithusa” falls from his lips involuntarily but he doesn’t have time to think about it as the egg is cracking.

with every crack in the shell, merlin feels a piece of himself crack open. scales flick over his skin down his arms, down his legs, up his neck and a bit across his cheeks. his ears sharpen and his hearing improves as does his sight. his nails sharpen and grow into claws on his hands and feet. his teeth grow uncomfortably large in his mouth and he tastes the tang of blood as his fangs nick his cheek and tongue. his back splits open and huge wings unfurl behind him, warmed by the fire and solidifying into their magnificent shape. with the naming of his first dragon, born of fire, another dragonlord is born.

a pure white dragon claws its way out of her shell, a beautiful thing, aithusa. she crawls up onto her dragonlord’s shoulder and with her settled, the room around them crumbles. the fire had spread out, pushing arthur and the knights into a retreat despite their conviction to retrieve merlin from the flames. as they exit, they have no time to mourn or think of ways to help merlin as they’re surrounded. idk who their enemy is but they’re fighting for their lives but honestly they aren’t doing too great. until the tomb behind them caves in and falls apart to allow the sun to shine of the figure standing in the midst of the ruins.

a terrifying creature, a man and a beast, a demon from hell. he grins, feral, before pouncing on his enemies. he does not wield a weapon nor magic, he uses his claws, his wings, and his fangs to tear his enemy to shreds. as they regroup and surround him, he turns and lets flames billow from his maw, chasing them away if they’re quick enough and charring those who weren’t. with a quickness that is frightening, another demon from hell, another abomination of man and beast swoops in and tears their enemies to shreds.

they both eviscerate their enemies, working together as if they’ve always done this, until there is nobody left to fight. the two stand side by side, covered in blood and wearing matching mad grins and wide, crazed eyes. merlin and balinor stand victorious over the carnage, their wings pointed towards the clouds and glimmering in the sunlight. the last two dragonlords of the ambrosius family line, father and son.

[cupcakeinat0r]

A DisneyWorld date w Miguel >>>>>>>>>>>

[dearhartselfships]

this file is saved on my laptop as 'borat voice my wife.png'

anyways

[moonydasaltychild]

Every now and then I be like “damn I gotta work on the next chapter for my ninjago fic” and then proceed to not do that

[the-ninja-legacy-whip]

.:The Legend of the Green Ninja Lives:. ~Chapter 6: Number One With a Bullet Train~

Summary: The Shark Army robs a bank, Jay delivers a pizza, the other ninja deal with a whole different kind of 'train'-ing, and Lloyd acquires a distaste for pop songs, pocket watches, and personal feelings.

...and yes, all these events are connected.

[curioussubjects]

StarbuckApolloFic/Fallout Shelter Authors and Fics

Thousands of emails later, I come bearing loot! Turns out a lot of the fics from The Fallout Shelter are around the web, which is good to know. I've linked to author profiles and archived version of fics when available -- mostly so we know we don't need to have FOMO about them.

The last section of the post include fics that aren't available anywhere online that I could find. If you want those fics, send me a DM with the author's name and/or fic titles and I'll send you the files I have.

There are some drabbles, wips, and random odds and ends that I didn't include here, so if you're looking for something specific DM me the title of the fic or the author name and I'll see if I have it.

You can also download all the group data yourself. See here for more information.

Full (or Mostly Full) Archives: 74CrazyChick, abelard (ffn, lj), Alec Star, Aleja21, bea, becisvolatile, chaosti, cliosmuse, CrysWimmer, Farringtongirl, greensleeves104, igore, Jason Thompson, kathgrr, leavingslowly (ffn, lj), lynnmichelle, lint, Maevenly, maroon-notebook, Monti (aka mlsky), msk1701, mystic83 (aka hackaddict), nancy777ca, nebakanezer, Noda2, PTBvisiongrrl, Ring Red, Shanna1, ShinyFab, Toptoffee, Waldo Deleted/F-Locked Fics (Wayback Machine):

Other fics on bsg03fanfic

latteaddict: The Choices We MakeDo You Love Me?Everytime I Close My EyesFinally HappeningGive Me a ReasonGuilty HeartsIt Was All A Bit of a Frakking Mess ActuallyKissing in the MoonlightSecond ChanceWe Make Our Own HappinessWith Nothing Standing Between ThemYou Don't Want Me marimba:

Time Will TellBlueA Little Less ConversationLost

rabid1st:

Captain's Privilege Shoot Your Shade Deleted/F-Locked Fics (DM me):

angylinni:

Taste Taste: Fulfillment After the Dance A Losing Game

Larry Edwards:

A Reason to Live Of Dreams and Vipers Secrets Shared Starbuck Blue Show and Tell Two of a Kind

latteaddict:

Taking Action Fun with Lee and Kara The Choices We Make Timing Is Everything My Heart That Breaks Finding Reality Falling from the Edge of Love Testing Theories Secret Kiss Ugly on the Inside Nothing Is Perfect There Is No Us Breaking the Pieces The Lies We Tell Omission of Truths Memories of You Assignment Turnabout Unbreakable Catharsis Very Close to Far Away 50 Sentences, Beta Set The Last Good Thing Inescapable Darkness Kisses Slowly Rising on the Air Expectations and Other Moving Pieces The Hard Way Almost Everything You’ve Ever Wanted All Good Things Words Whispered in the Silence Maybe This Time Making It Happen Sleep Deprived The Heart Wants Today Is the First Day of the Rest of Your Life Angel Kiss Cranberry_Jei:

Speak Softly, Without Regret (1-23, wip) UnexpectedTwo More PointsA Picture’s Worth (1-2, wip) As the Earth, She RevolvesChanging the Girl The Caprican Rebel: Skin Trade (1-6, wip) Perchance to Dream

rabid1st:

Rush Burn the Pipe Iced (1-6, Coda) Minotaur (1-6, wip) Ephemeral

Waterwitch:

Humpty Dumpty The Festival War of the Angels (1-6, wip)

Other Fics:

A Brave New World by Dekardkain (parts 1 through 24, wip) Cherish and Jake by KolothBandit (parts 1 through 8, wip) The Choices that Define by Codyoktober Gravitation by leavingslowly (parts 1 through 8, wip) In the End by Jayblue00 (parts 1 through 46, wip) Operation Aphrodite by JSO-Spoiler Operation Cupid by JSO-Spoiler Rage by Marimba Thirty-Three Minutes by Marimba Without a Trace by Rael

Other Authors: Buffyanp, Jill, nancy777c, Pandora_576, Roxane, Sanssong, Sairs.

[blorbologist]

Nursery Rhymes as Told by Briarpatches | Greypool

“I’m Greykit now, Mom,” said Greykit, when they were nestled back home. Fallowtail stilled. “Greykit, is it?” she asked, her voice frail. “I - I hadn’t known so much time had passed. You’ve both grown so big, but names -” “Can we get new names?” Palekit piped up, muffled by Mom’s fur before she twisted to face them. “I don’t wanna be Palekit anymore.”  “Why not?” Mom gently prodded.  Her lips curled into a tiny snarl - a perfect likeness of Hailstar’s, earlier. “It’s stupid and windy and I’m not a Windclan cat.”

[Set in @fatal-rewrites-warriors's rewrite of Warriors, found here]

--

"Greykit and Palekit," Reedfeather declared. "Welcome home, lovelies."

His daughter could not see his expression from between his paws, but she could see those of the strange cats around him. They were wrong - not a single familiar face in the crowd. They all smelled wrong, too, like the wind had stolen their scents, not like the musty comfort of Mom. All strangers.

One face frowned - the huge tom padded forward and sniffed the sisters with a scarred nose. The kittens shied away. 

"I’d keep those ideas to myself, boy. The kits are too young to be named.” The tom rose up to squint at their father. “Especially adapting to so many changes, the stress could do them in.”

The kitten - was she Pale or Grey? - felt her father stiffen behind her. “Riverclan could not keep them from me, Hawkheart - neither will Starclan,” he said. 

“Besides,” he added quickly, “they’re stars-given, for Heatherstar’s lost litter. Surely they wouldn’t take such blessings from such deserving cats?”

Hawkheart curled his lip. “Deserving... certainly.”

He padded away, vanishing into what looked to the kitten like the round, gaping mouth of a dead fish. She recoiled further into her father’s belly fur for something, anything, familiar.

But he wasn’t. She did not know the texture of his fur, or his not-smell, or his nasally voice, or how he licked her ears. She hated having her ears touched - Mom knew that. 

“I want Mom,” she whimpered. “I don’t like it here, I want Mom - please, can we go home?”

[Keep reading on AO3!]

[aladaylessecondblog]

Severed Destiny, pt. 10

Author's Note: tw, Sadara doesn't want to be 'alive' anymore and considers taking steps to not be alive.

Lots of medical talk from the Divath Fyr section. You can't tell me that this man can clone himself and not also invent a shitload of things.

This is long, almost 6k words

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

Below the sound of constant ashy gusts of the blight winds, the Ghostfence hummed.

She had been staring at it, waiting, for what she knew not. Perhaps for the bravery to carry through with the idea that had brought her here.

There had hardly been a moment of respite outside of Mausur Caverns. It seemed that whenever she approached a corprus beast or ash zombie, they would almost instantly turn, necks giving a too-loud crack, before fixing her with either a steady gaze or bolting at the spot where she'd last made a sound.

And she might have thought he did not have ill intent, had they not been so intent to lay hands on her. She could toss a bolt of ice at the lesser ones and run, but the ash ghouls (poets, his voice still corrected her somewhere in the back of her mind) and ascended sleepers...they were another story.

She'd thought herself well hidden enough, behind a scattering of rocks. The blight winds had slowed a bit, but were still strong enough she'd been certain it couldn't see or sense her movement.

She had been wrong.

The sleeper had spotted her, and as she'd moved back to flee - hurled a bolt of magic at her. It struck, but seemingly did nothing, and for a moment she could not figure out why - not that there was time for much thought. Moving away there was another bolt of the same, and another, yet neither of the two did anything.

It was not until she had gotten safely back to Mausur that she realized they were paralysis spells. They'd done nothing because wispmothers weren't affected by such things. It was almost a relief.

Almost.

But the fact that she was being attacked at all confirmed what Azura had been telling her: that he wanted her gone, and likely enough, wanted to handle it himself. Why else would the sleepers be hurling spells at her?

Then there had been a similar encounter a week later, with an ash poet, and then another, a few days after that.

It made her wonder if Gilvoth had finally spoken up. Stay gone, he'd said, and I will keep your secret. Stay gone, and I won't tell him you didn't leave to retrieve Wraithguard. Perhaps after she'd been caught through the eyes of that dying man, he'd started trying to find her. Maybe it had not been entirely angry, she couldn't know. But he WOULD be angry if Gilvoth spoke up...yes. Yes, that would explain the sudden surge of spells the ash poets and ascended sleepers directed at her. That would explain everything.

The small joy she had been able to take from this world of shit had been eliminated, and Azura had had much fun mocking her for it.

The Sharmat wants to destroy she who most betrayed him! Do you think he would want to leave it to his underlings? Do you think he would let you expire peacefully? Dead as you are, the demon has ways of making you pray for the true end! There is no escape!

She was alone again, but she couldn't simply stay in Mausur - that was the surest way to madness, to hole up there to wait for the end, in whatever way it came.

So now here she stood, an arm's length from the Ghostfence, contemplating what, she wasn't sure.

No, she knew what it was.

She extended a spectral hand, lifted it to the shimmering, shifting surface of the Ghostfence, and winced. Putting a hand near it produced a repelling force, and pushing it forward anyway made her feel as though her hand would split painlessly apart.

But actually touching it?

Pain shot up her arm, and she cringed from the agony. She felt weak - weaker than usual, even more than she had when she had first awakened behind that cursed glow.

Yet it hurt not nearly so much as feeling nothing at all.

Had she still been living there might have come then a deep breath. There was still a steeling of nerves, a moment of silence in her mind, a desperate attempt to keep her course steady.

Fifteen years.

For certain she knew it, for Azura had been sure to tell her each time a year passed. Her daughter was nearly a woman now, and she had seen none of it, had barely been able to hold her as a babe before expiring. What would she look like now? Would she still resemble--him? Would her little girl be able to see her at all? How had the argonians raised her, what had she learned? What hopes and dreams did she have?

What would have been, had she been able to convince him of the wrongness of his actions? It was a sword, that imagining, a sword that cut her a thousand agonies with every attempt to approach it. She had once tried thinking how joyful a father he might have been, how eager he might have been to teach a young mind, the first new one of his family in well over three thousand years. The smile on his face when a small voice called him father.

She would gladly have cast off her own and worn the name Nerevar, forget all that she had been if she could have even a taste of that life.

How wonderful things might have been, had I only been able to make him see?

So many questions I will never know the answer to.

There had been light, laughter, and love once, a lifetime ago. But now? Now there was only darkness and the constant red fog of the blight storms, and even this was going to come to an end. And she would know - for Azura said as much - when he had been defeated, for it would all stop, and then would come her true doom.

Even the corprus monsters she had once sung to, her only real company, would cease to exist and she would be lost, truly lost, in a never-ending stretch of ash and ruin.

A silent moment passed then. She steeled her nerves, kept her ghostly hands clenched into fists, and began to float forward--

No. STOP.

The voice was distinctly male, and stern in a way that reminded her of the ordinators. It came--from where, she wasn't sure. There was no one around her, that she could see, anyway. Perhaps she had finally lost it.

This isn't the answer.

"This is the only option I have left," she said in reply, "The last mote of happiness I had has been stolen. He has his followers dogging my every step, ready to end me if I'm not vigilant enough. I will never be able to pass the Ghostfence...what is left for me? What other answer is there?"

All is not as it appears. Listen to me. Let me help you. Just don't end yourself.

"Please don't make me hope," she whispered, "I would rather go now, than...than find you aren't real, or..."

I am real. I am HERE, the voice said. Strong as an ox, sure as the sun, he believed what he was saying, she could understand that much.

"But who are you?"

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

Yagrum was so eager to speak that Haj-deek couldn't help but sit there with him. She had the blood drawing tools in hand, but hesitated to go back up to Divath Fyr just yet.

"Your father - he was always brilliant, always knew exactly what he wanted - but perhaps not always how to get it. Else you would likely bear two names instead of only the one."

She looked away for a moment. "My mother's journals tell me she tried to change his mind, but...but was unsuccessful."

"Even for a lover's touch Lord Dagoth would not change his mind, that was always his way. Stubborn as any lord of a Great House might be."

"If my mother couldn't do it, then..." Haj-deek shook her head. Whatever Vivec had done, given her - she felt it kicking around in her head, boiling beneath her skin. He'd said she would know when the time had come to use it. Maybe whatever it was could be used.

She tried to explain what had lead to the situation wherein Vivec had given her this supposed power, whatever it was. Yagrum latched onto the topic eagerly.

"Much as Azura likes to consider herself a loving and benevolent deity, she has proven many times to be quite the opposite. And Vivec - him I am more and yet less sure of. He is eager to correct his mistakes, you say?"

"He claims to have seen the future," she said, "He showed me Baar Dau falling and striking the city...the disaster that followed. He was--very precise."

She knew she'd said too much, but Yagrum wasn't in a position to tell anyone else but those of Tel Fyr, and none of the people here seemed like the sort to go running to tell what she'd said.

"He didn't seem to dislike the idea of doing something to help my father," Haj-deek went on, "I wanted to know him, I said, and...he went along with it. He knows a lot of things I don't, this is probably one of them."

"Or he could be leading you on, to direct you to a most bloody fate. That is the whim of gods and those who consider themselves gods. Disobey them and their façades fade away in an instant." There was a moment of thought. "If you are quite serious in the attempt...I suppose there is something I could lend you. I would if possible want it back if you are able to escape this plan with your life."

Yagrum turned, and the spiderlike legs beneath him went tk tk tk as he moved over towards the wardrobe. He opened it, humming briefly to himself, and then lifted something from its bottom. "I've got something your father once gave to me...and when trying to appeal to one's humanity, it helps to have reminders from the past."

When he returned he held out a tiny, inert dwemer spider. It looked clumsily made - its sides were a little lumpy, and its legs felt brittle. Too thin. The metal had not been worked right, she could see that even not knowing how exactly smithing of such metals worked.

But the joints seemed to be holding together well, even while the rest of it didn't seem so well off.

"What is this?" she finally asked.

"A dwemer spider," Yagrum said, "House Dagoth mingled its blood with that of the Dwemer at some point in the past, and your father was interested in learning something of our skills, saying it could be of benefit to learn more of his heritage. And I, being--well, one of--his closest friends at the time, seemed the obvious first place to look for guidance on the matter. He tried a little of everything - and presented me with this spider."

Haj-deek smiled briefly. "Was he proud of it?"

"Yes and no. He was pleased to have made something, but he was well aware its quality was not...ideal. 'I have created, if not beautifully,' he said, 'And I would give it to you, but it would be an insult to provide you with something of such poor quality.' I cared not. I told him it was a shaky first attempt, but that he did not have the benefit that I did. I studied under Kagrenac himself - he had contented himself with notes I gave him. Seeing is better than reading, which is itself secondary to doing. I told him he should keep trying. I kept the spider, though, as a token of our friendship. Even in my wanderings, it's been at my side. Even when my mind deserted me, I knew it was important, even if I did not know why."

"I--thank you, for trusting me with it. Any help I can get, I'll take...do you think it will help remind him of--before?"

"It could, or it could not. But when you encounter your father, be sure to show him this little spider. Remind him that there was a time he did not make perfect the enemy of good, that there was a time he did not..."

Yagrum seemed to stop short at that.

"I'm sorry, I...lost track of my thoughts. Ah. You did not come here to only speak to me. You'd best take the blood-drawing tool up to Lord Fyr, I await eagerly the news of what you might help him discover."

"I don't mind speaking to you, though. Um...before I go..."

"What?"

"Did you ever meet my mother? Divath Fyr says he did, and..."

"Your mother...the previous Nerevarine." Yagrum paused, squinted, and shook his head. "Very little. Her smile, I remember that...she had a smile that brightened even this dark room. Ah - something else, she played that guarskin drum you might've seen Uupse using. I don't remember why."

Haj-deek thanked Yagrum once again, and finally left.

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

The blood-drawing tool in question was a strange looking needle attached to a colorful...tube of some kind? It was made of something that seemed to give a little, but not much, and on either side of the bright part were two strange little things almost like wings. Behind that the small tubing extended into something that looked like it was made to be put into something else.

The needle was...rather large, and that made her skin crawl just a bit. But she went on back to Divath Fyr anyway, with Sunchaser following close behind.

"Ah, good, you're back. You were gone longer than I expected."

"Yagrum was eager to talk to someone new," Haj-deek said, "And he'd met my mother, so...I wondered if he'd have anything to say about her. Now...uh...this thing, what is it? How are you supposed to draw blood with it? What's it even made of?"

"A new material derived from certain trees in Black Marsh, they're calling it 'rubber,'" Divath Fyr said, "And I've taken to calling it a butterfly needle. My patients seem to prefer these to the metallic sort. It was actually Vistha-Kai who suggested using the rubber in place of them."

"Where's the blood supposed to go?"

He gestured to her to follow, and so she did. He lead her to what was clearly some sort of alchemy lab, as crowded as the desk there was. Vials, ingredients, lined the shelves behind it, and he plucked a small vial from a lower shelf. The end of the tubing seemed to slot neatly into the vial's open top.

"Your blood flows at a certain speed as it moves through your body, and as such all I need do is give a little prick into a vein and let your body do all the work."

"And then?"

"Then I begin my work. Your blood could be invaluable in my struggle against the...more negative effects of corprus. Provided, of course, your blood is...of the right type." Divath Fyr took to cleaning the point end of the butterfly needle as he spoke.

"Type? Blood has types?" Haj-deek was frankly astonished, and even though the idea of being stuck with the needle was a bit gross, she was curious to hear more.

"Oh, yes. I noticed that when studying the blood of some of my patients, a curious reaction happened when I combined some of it under another of my inventions. It allows for amplified viewing of small--"

"Go on," she gestured, when he stopped.

"--of things too small for the naked eye to see itself. I noticed certain differences between the samples, yet similarities from the corprus."

"The blood was different from one patient to the next?""

When he gestured for her arm, Haj-deek decided to cooperate. It was fascinating, listening to this, despite...everything. Listen, Vivec had said, listen when the masters speak. You may learn something even if you do not understand it.

"There were four types, as Uupse later discovered, and two...subtypes of those types. To keep things simple, I named them after two of my daughters...and for oblivion itself."

The needle pricked a vein in her elbow, and despite the sudden nausea Haj-deek watched the blood flow out and into the vial. It didn't take long to fill the thing; the needle was pulled away and the small wound healed.

"That's a little weird. Not your daughters, but oblivion...?"

"A thing a man discovers is his to name, after all," Divath Fyr went on with a laugh, "Alfe, or A, Beyte, or B, and AB. The fourth, O for oblivion, was chosen because it did not seem to fight A, B, or AB as they would with one another. Hence the name. All of my patients had one of these four types, in either the positive or negative..."

She nodded, and momentarily looked down at the tiny wound in her arm. It was still gross to think about, him taking her blood, but it hadn't be as bad as she was expecting. And at least he looked like he was doing something useful with it.

He went on to explain some further things she didn't understand as he turned away to examine her blood. He took drops of it and put them under glass with some other drops of other blood, and then looked into the strangest thing she had seen yet.

"What is that?" she asked as he bent over the thing.

"A device Yagrum Bagarn helped me with. I have a spell for magnifying my eyesight, but it leads to troublesome headaches and other...strange side effects. This thing merely requires lenses, such as you might find in an old man's glasses."

There was a pause, and then he spoke again.

"This may take me a few minutes, go and see about getting yourself something to eat. And for my sake, don't do it up here around my specimens."

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

When Haj-deek returned, Divath Fyr who had been still over whatever that little device was, looked quickly up.

"Anything?" she asked.

"Well, you're as immune as you say you are. And also what I've come to call O-, so that's an advantage to my work."

"How so?"

"It means that anyone can receive your blood, without it attacking or being attacked. With the little you've given me I've already seen some reduction of corprus in the other samples."

Haj-deek was momentarily puzzled. "How--how does that work when I have it myself? I mean...I don't feel any of the bad effects, but..."

Further explanation was soon given, and most of it went over her head. Something about "hereditary immunity" and "bodily defenses" and a whole host of other things she didn't really understand. But what was clear was that her blood was doing something to that of his patients. The blood of the others were responding in some way,

Still, after years of trying and so much failure in finding a cure, it was something - and much less fatal than that potion he had fed her mother.

"I may even be able to formulate a treatment from it...assuming there are no ill effects."

"I imagine you Telvanni wizards can do anything with magic."

"Of course we can," Divath's head raised proudly, "This could take magic of a different sort...if you wouldn't mind staying here for a week, perhaps two...and give me a little time to study your blood, perhaps provide me with a few more vials of it. If you're as eager to learn as you've been so far, it would be no chore instructing you."

He held a vial like that which he'd collected her blood in.

"As long as you only take my blood with that...that...what do you call that thing, anyway? Leeches?"

"I hadn't named them, actually...leeches, yes. I'll go with that."

And with that he was back to looking at her blood through that strange little device. She resolved to ask about it later, when he seemed more amenable to talking again.

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

For the next week she spent the bulk of her time with Uupse and Yagrum, helping the former with the corprus victims and their various treatments, and speaking of her father and the past with the latter. Uupse applauded her for her interest one morning as she was helping dish out saltrice porridge for the patients' breakfast.

Sunchaser was having her own little meal from fish that Haj-deek had caught earlier - but outside. She seemed to adjust well enough to it, seeing as how there weren't any other cliffracers nearby...though she still preferred to stick close to the tower.

"He never gets visitors...Tel Fyr gets new people now and then, but they're usually not in good shape by the time we receive them, and not in a mood to talk. I think your presence has benefitted him greatly."

Haj-deek gave a slight smile. Yagrum had had many things to say, as the more he talked of her father and the past, the more linked memories seemed to appear. Not too many - sometimes they were only snippets, half-thought conversations, but he remembered, and that was the important part.

And more importantly, it gave her the chance to learn about her father. The moment Uupse was gone, she sought Yagrum out. He appeared to be studying her mother's journal--she'd given it to him, half wondering if there was something he could see that she didn't. Something to actually help.

"Your mother was quite the hopeful woman," he said, rubbing his eyes, "Nerevar...I don't remember him very well. I don't know if he was a hoper. He was...a man of action, though, I do remember that."

"I like doing things too," Haj-deek said, "And seeing things change because of me, but...I don't know if you'd call me someone of action just yet. Most of my life has been other people guiding me. The argonians that raised me...Vivec, for a while."

"Well, you're at that age where you start learning to make choices," Yagrum said, "So it's not your fault that you haven't made any yet. One thing I will say - don't be too much like your father. Stick to a decision if you feel it to be right, but be willing to change what you think if you're shown evidence it's not good for you. The man was stubborn, to an irritating degree, so unchangeable, unshakeable, he could not fathom being wrong most of the time."

"What worked with you?"

"Time," he said, "And multiple reminders that such behavior wasn't going to win him any favors with the people who cared for him."

"Could it really be that simple?" she asked. "He's been like this for...centuries."

"It's what worked before, who's to say it won't work now? Form a hypothesis and test it based on prior evidence. Granted, my evidence is...anecdotal..."

"Anecdotal?"

"Means it's my experience only, and not documented under studied conditions," Yagrum replied. "Now, I'm going to get to my breakfast before it goes cold. You should do the same."

Haj-deek's stomach growled in agreement, and she headed off to find Uupse again to get her own serving of the saltrice porridge.

"You've got a letter," Uupse said, after the bowl was filled, "It doesn't have a name on it."

"That's...strange." Haj-deek glanced over the envelope. "If it was anybody I knew they wouldn't...huh."

The envelope looked fairly nice, so she sat down in an alcove, near what had probably been some sort of campfire, and opened the letter. As she ate she read:

To the Nerevarine, Haj-deek

Be not afraid on receipt of this letter, if you should happen to have first ready my signature. I assure you that my actions shall not be those that you might already have heard from the dissident priests or other such unfaithful folk.

Though I have watched others come and go, my belief is that you are the child of prophecy. The time has come for you to reclaim your station. Together we can unite Morrowind once again, free from the Imperial yoke.

You are but a child, though nearly a woman you be. Allow me to guide you, for the title you carry is a heavy one. One, I am sure, you have already a deep awareness of, if your stay in Vivec City has been as long as I have heard it was. Let it not be said that Mother Morrowind, the font of mercy herself, cannot set a course ahead of the youth and help them to see the way they must go. You could be a beacon of hope, if only you will heed my words. Let the moon-and-star that adorns your hand and marks your destiny symbolize also your return to my side, though in a far different role than before.

But I must present you two warnings: there are those who seek to sway you to their own sides, away from the path of righteousness which you will soon walk. Lord Vivec, a revered god among mer as he is, has designs that are shrouded in complexity and ambiguity, as is his nature. You must be wary of seeking his counsel, lest it lead to your confusion in his wisdom at the worst possible time.

And as you no doubt have heard - you must at all costs guard your heart and mind against the evil whisperings of Dagoth Ur, the devil that plagues all of Morrowind. His influence is pure malevolence, a creeping necrosis that rots and kills all that it touches. You will be promised power and glory, but the path he would lead you down goes only one way: to ruin and despair. Do not trust him, even once, even for a moment, for the inch will be taken and the mile with it, as the saying goes. You should not have trusted him in the First Era, and you should not trust him now.

I would ask that you visit me in Mournhold. Seek out my wisdom, stand at my side, and fulfill your destiny. There are things only you can accomplish, and through me you will find all the strength you need and more to set the world right. Only you can now do what is needed - so it was with you when your name was Nerevar and you united Chimer and Dwemer, and so it shall be again.

Perhaps this time I may convince you to be less reckless, the better to preserve your life.

Signed, Almalexia, Mother of Morrowind, the Lady of Mercy

Haj-deek had for a moment an inkling of a feeling to show Almalexia the same mercy as she was planning to show to others. Something in the back of her mind stirred, weaker and yet there, a distrust of (Ayem) that would not be held back. It was Vivec, memory and the man's own mouth had said, to spear me through, but it was Ayem who I trusted most and thus who most betrayed me.

Still, perhaps she could see if these were only words, or if there was an inkling of a chance for her to change.

And if not...Vivec had once said something about Trueflame, and how Almalexia had it. Getting that sword would help...how would Vivec put it?...legitimize her as the Nerevarine nearly as much as the ring did.

The presence of a bloated corprus monster stirred Haj-deek's attention from musing on the letter. She looked up, and found the bloated thing staring at her. It sat down and seemed to inch closer.

She readied fire in her fist, which he seemed to notice. He looked at the embers, then back up, and shook his head.

They were so strange, these things. They'd never attacked her--grabbed at her, yes, but never hurt her. Most of the time they simply stared, and if she talked to them, would listen.

What were they looking for? What were they getting from this?

It reached for the letter clumsily, with a shaking hand.

"No, no, that's mine," she said, pulling it away, "Seems I'm very important these days...it's from Almalexia."

The corprus victim made an outburst--not quite a scream, but clearly an expression of pained panic.

"Oh, it's nothing to worry about. She's down in Mournhold, and I'm all the way up here. Still...if she's as eager to make up as she sounds, maybe she's sincere. It's worth checking--"

There was a groan, and a grab at her arm with its own bloated one. A clenched grip that wouldn't release, however much she pulled away. Still no attacks - but she wasn't sure he wouldn't.

"Uupse!" she called out, before looking back at the victim.

"Nnnn...nnn..." He was trying to make a sound, trying hard, she could almost feel the desperation, see the struggle, until finally a single strangled word escaped his lips, "No!"

"No?"

A painful motion, almost like he'd vomit and then two words, in a softer tone, "No...go..."

"No go...don't go? Don't go whe--what, you mean to Almalexia?"

The patient nodded eagerly.

It was then that Uupse appeared, and she was able to cast a calm spell and ease the corprus victim's hand off Haj-deek's arm.

"They aren't usually like that," she said, "What was this about?"

"I got a letter from--from Almalexia, and I said I was considering seeing her and he just--he just--" she stammered, rubbing at the sore spot on her arm where the victim had grabbed her, "He said, and I quote, 'no go.'"

"Well, you're a Nerevarine, and the Temple doesn't like Nerevarines..." Uupse shrugged, "But...this one is so far gone, I didn't think he could..."

There was a pause.

"Well, it's a good sign...in a way. Do you know a calm spell? It might be helpful if you intend to stay here much longer...it'll be good practice for those fits you keep seeing them have. And for situations like this."

Another groan from the corprus victim, as Haj-deek stood; he stood with her and stayed close. There was a sickly groan, and then both his hands moved to her shoulders.

"Oh, he must think he knows you," Uupse said, "That happens rarely with them at this stage, but the early stage infections will...get like this. It's the rotting of their mind, it causes them to think that people around them are their friends, or family...it can cause them to be familiar with those they've never met."

Haj-deek looked up at the yellowed eyes of the corprus victim, and he stared back down at her own red ones.

She expected almost anything except what came next.

This corprus-addled man, so sickly looking she could not even tell whether he was man or mer, wrapped both his arms around her and pulled her into the tightest hug she'd ever been a part of.