#BUT HE WAS CONSTANTLY SURROUNDED BY GUARDS IN HIS YOUTH

[dantedeservedbetter]

The werewolves hiding their natural ears to me was always so weird like how would that work anatomically? Do werewolves have four sets of ears for the ability to hide them? How do their hearing/inner eardrums end up being affected by all of this, because I imagine that the double feature when both are out would be INTENSE for them to experience. And if they don’t have two pairs of ears does their hearing ability magically decrease when they have to hide them?? Is it muffled or is it like when you turn the volume down on a TV? HOW DO THEY ACTUALLY HIDE THE WEREWOLF EARS THEMSELVES????

[gardens-light]

Opposites Attract

Unlike his friend, D16 often kept his head down and followed protocol. Going through his usual routine one cycle after another, only stepping out of his normality whenever Orion Pax needed to be pulled out of trouble. Yet... he'd be lying, if he ever said his optics never occasionally drifted towards the one thing he's wanted. You. The High Guard that had stolen his spark, who's beauty could only be compared to the sparkling towers of Iacon. Something he could never touch and never to keep. For he accepted the fact you both were from different worlds. Something that not even one of the 'great plans' of Orion Pax could change... right...?

Content: D16/Megatron TFO x F/Cybertronian Reader. Fluff.

Toiling away under the flickering lights and constant hum of machinery. The cavernous walls of the mine glittered with the veins of energon, their iridescent glow faintly illuminating the surroundings.

As the others grinded away at the seams of energon, Orion Pax's gaze flickered up at D16, noticing the distracted expression upon his faceplate.

"Hey D. You ok?"

Startled and snapping out of his daze, D16 briefly looked over his shoulder. "Huh? Oh- yeah, yeah. I'm fine." he replied dismissively, casually returning his blank gaze back to the task at hand.

"You know I've got your back. Right...?"

"I know, I know you do, Orion. It's just... it's nothing. Really."

Orion lowered his tools, placing a hand on D16's shoulder as his movements became a bit more forceful, as if he was trying to take out his frustration on the cave walls.

Stiffening under his friend's touch, finally taking a moment of pause as he met Orion's concerned gaze.

"It's just... it's stupid. I honestly don't know why I'm even bothered by it." A heavy sigh escaped D16's lips, dropping his tools and leaning against the rocky wall behind him. "I... bumped into someone this morning before shift. It was a little thing really, but the simple shock of it... the shock of realizing who it was... I-I've never seen her in person before, only from the holos, but... Primus, Orion. She was... perfect!"

"Don't give me that look." He groaned, seeing the faint smile tugging on Orion's faceplate. "It's not like I have a chance with her. There's no universe where she'd be slightest bit of interested in some lowly mech like me-"

"C'mon D... don't be like that-"

"Why shouldn't I? It's the truth and you know it." D16 pushed himself off the wall and resumed his work. Wielding his tools with more force than necessary. The sharp ringing of metal against stone echoed throughout the cavern.

"Because there's gotta be more to life than just... this!" Orion protested, gesturing to their surroundings. "Don't you want to try and be more than what we're 'supposed' to be?-"

"What else are we supposed to be, then?!" D16 scowled, swinging his tool once more, causing a shower of sparks to fly up. The glow of the energon-flecked rock reflected off the planes of his face, casting deep shadows under his optics. For a brief moment, the harsh environment seemed to aged his otherwise youthful features. "We're miners! Built for this! Just because you have grand dreams and aspirations, doesn't mean the rest of us do!"

Orion flinched, pausing for moment before finding his voice again. "You're... not seriously gonna just admire this femme from afar...? I-I've seen the way you look at her. You adore her!-"

"It doesn't matter, Orion. She's far beyond me. I'm... just a simple miner, and she's a High Guard. There's no point in even entertaining the thought that I could ever... be with her."

"Why not? Who says you couldn't? You're just as good as any mech!-"

"Oh yeah! I'm sure she'd be enthralled by my rugged charm and the coal dust that's constantly clinging to my frame!" D16 bitterly laughed, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "I bet she'd swoon over the grease stains on my servos. And of course, the highlight! My endless stories of energon extraction- it just gets the femmes going every time! Clearly!"

Grinding away at the cavern wall, using the repetitive motion of his tools against the stone to distract him from the thoughts spinning through his processor. The dull ache in D16's servos felt like a welcomed relief compared to the turmoil in his spark. A small thorn of guilt pricked at his circuits, as he caught Orion's somber expression within the corner of his optic.

Both fell into a tense silence, the only sound of steady rhythmic clang of metal on stone dragging out till the end of their long shift.

---

Eventually the twelfth hour came to an end, D16 and Orion headed to the nearest exit along with their fellow miners. Grimy from the day's work, their servos stained and joins sore from exertion. D16 stretches lazily, trying to work out the kinks in his wiring, rolling his neck and shoulders as he walked beside Orion.

Raising an optic ridge, following his friend's gaze. D16's spark practically stutters when he spots you not far in the distance. A sweet smile framing your lips, as you spoke to another High Guard, your polished form standing out against the dingy backdrop of the mining station. D16's spark pulsed within it's chamber, sending zaps of electricity throughout his circuits, as if you're a magnet drawing him in. As you turned away from your fellow High Guard, the silver miner quickly avoided eye contact, secretly hoping you didn't notice him as he stared at the floor.

Hiding his mischievous smile, Orion slowed his pace a little. His gaze stubley peering up at you every so often, as the gap between you and his friend gradually closes. Secretly positioning himself slightly behind you, Orion quickly pushed you into D16.

His optics widen as you came crashing down on top of him, your sudden weight causing him to lose balance and fall onto his back with a surprised 'oof.'

"H-Hey! Watch where you're..." oh... Primus...

Subtle warmth slowly raised beneath his faceplates, as passers by raised an optic ridge at your... rather compromising position. Your tall yet slender frame caging D16 beneath you, while his servos hovered awkwardly above your waist.

"Ow..."

A jolt of electricity shot through him, a gasp slipping past his lips as your weight shifted onto his legs, straddling his lap. His servos itched towards your thighs, his amber optics watching the grime and dirt rub off onto your otherwise flawless paintwork. Quickly glancing up at you with an apologetic expression, as your optics flickered open.

"By the AllSpark! Are you ok?" your melody tone was filled with concern, as your soft gaze met his. "I-I honestly don't know what happened."

Taking a moment to collect himself, D16's servos involuntary slowly slid up and down your thighs. "I'm... I'm fine. No harm done... are you alright?"

A subtle heat rose to your faceplates, making them warm to the touch, as your optics flickered down at your thighs. Feeling the miner's calloused servos subconsciously caress your sooth metal.

Following your shy gaze, embarrassment flushed across D16's features. Quickly pulling his servos away and scrambling to sit up properly, his chassis brushing against yours. His optics nervously darting around, attempting to avoid your gaze while his spark wildly pulsed within its chamber.

Both raising onto your peds, and after a brief moment of hesitation. The miner's gaze slowly trailed up your form, as you brushed off the coal dust and grime.

"Primus... s-sorry about that." A pang of guilt struck his inner-circuits, while D16 fussed over you. His spark skipping a beat as you gave him a sweet smile. The warmth of your body made his processor go all fuzzy, not being able to string a single thought.

"Thank you-"

"D! There you are! I've been looking for you." Orion's cheerful voice interrupted. Pulling his usual warm smile, ignoring his friend's annoyed glare as Orion wrapped an arm around D16's shoulders. "Please forgive my clumsy friend, ma'am. If you'll allow it, he'd would like to properly apologize for this whole inconvenience. Perhaps over some energon? His treat, of course."

What?! D16's optics widened, as his glare narrowed onto his friend. For sparks sake, Orion! Now isn't the time to conjure up one of your 'master plans!'

You held up your servos. "Oh... that's very sweet. But he doesn't-"

"Nonsense. He insists. Right, buddy?"

Not wanting to bring anymore attention, than Orion already did. D16 slowly nodded, as an irritated huff escaped him.

His optics flickered towards you, as your sweet chuckles came to his audio receivers. Clearly finding somewhat some form of amusement, as the miner obviously looked like he wanted to be anywhere but here.

"Very well... if he insists. U-Um... when?"

"How about this evening?" Orion's smile widened, clapping a hand upon D16's shoulder, who subtly cringed under his friend's touch. "D knows a great energon bar down the way, The Cranked Gear. Very laid-back atmosphere, perfect for a casual... meeting."

The warmth beneath D16's plates rose, as he caught a glimpse of your sweet smile. Your soft gaze roaming over his frame, "sounds great. See you later... D."

"What. The. Fragg was that?!" the silver miner snapped once you were out of earshot. A mixture of disbelief and frustration etched into his faceplates, "you set me up!"

"Hey... I was just trying to help." Orion held up his servos in surrender. "Plus, it proves you have a chance with her-"

"Are you kidding me? There's no chance!" D16 threw his servos up in exasperation, his inner-circuits coiling with tension. "She's a High Guard. I'm a cogless miner-bot. We're practically from different worlds! What am I supposed to do? Just sit there and make a fool of myself?"

A weak smile came to Orion, shrugging as he tried to give D16 some form of reassurance. "From... what I've heard. You kinda just... sit there and talk when you're on a date."

"Gee, thanks for the helpful advice." D16 frowned, his tone dripping in sarcasm. "I'll just sit there and chat about the weather and my thrilling work in energon extraction." A low groan escaped his lips, while pinching the bridge of his nose. "I don't know why or how I let you talk me into things, y'know..." This is gonna be a disaster.

Later That Evening

Rocking upon his heels, shifting nervously from pede to pede. A subtle hopeful expression etched upon his features, as D16 glanced around for you.

No sign of her yet...

Taking a deep breath, trying to steady his spark and nerves. While his processor ran through potential conversation topics, attempting to prepare something interesting to say. A sigh escaping his lips, as D16 looked down at himself, suddenly hyper-aware of his frame. His rough, dull plating starkly stood out against the sleek finish of the other mechs in the vicinity.

Hopefully... she's not too put off by my rough exterior-

"Good evening... hopefully you haven't been waiting long."

Your soft tone snapped him out of his thoughts, his wide eyed stare roaming over your newly polished figure. "No! Uh, I mean... no. I just got here... you look..."

"What...?" you quickly looked down at yourself. Examining particular spots over your frame, "do I still have coal dust on me or something?"

"No! No! You look good. Great, even. Better than great!" fragging idiot. "Um... shall we...?"

Giving him a brief smile, you followed D16's lead into the bar. Sunken ceiling lights lit the area with a warm, gentle hue. The atmosphere bustling with chatter and laughter. Making your way through the clutter of tables and chairs, D16 could practically feel the surprised and confused expressions of the patrons, as they took in your presence.

He knew that the pair of you must make quite the duo, a miner and a High Guard. While guiding the way through the bar, his optics narrowed onto the nearest bots, silently daring them to say something. Leading you to a more secluded booth in the far corner, the lights became slightly more dim, creating more intimate feel. While the patrons chatter reduced to lulled muffle.

Your smile slightly widened, as D16 pulled out a seat for you. Politely waiting til you were settled before taking a seat opposite you.

"So... uh... how was your day?" his voice was uncharacteristically low, while his digits anxiously fidgeted wit the edge of the table. Seriously? That's the best you can come up with? Come on!

"Um... alright. Nothing out of the ordinary."

The awkward tension slowly eased into the space between you, as D16's processor scrambled for a new topic.

"That's good... My shift down in the mines was pretty normal. Just the... usual amount of ore. No issues with the equipment- well, one drill malfunctioned. But we fixed it quick enough."

D16's spark nervously pulsed through his wires, as you flashed him a weak smile. Replying with a simple nod, "oh... um, sounds... eventful? Would you... like to order some energon?"

"Yeah, yeah. Sure. I, uh, should probably warn you though. The stuff they serve here isn't exactly the most refined. It's... got a kind of a bite to it."

After answering with shrug, D16 took the cue to approach the nearby bar. The bartender passed him the drinks with a knowing glance, only to be greeted with the miner's glare in return. Knowing full well that the whole bar was undoubtedly watching him, make his way back to you.

Settling himself back into his seat, carefully sliding your drink towards you. As he took a sip from his own, the smooth taste a momentary distraction from the awkward tension.

Noticing your half-hearted smile, a pang of guilt thumped within his spark. This a complete fragging diseater! Why can't I say anything? I can practically feel this whole thing already crashing and burning in front of me!-

"What's... that on your shoulder?"

"Huh?" D16 followed your gaze, briefly noticing you pausing from your drink. A subtle warmth radiated beneath his faceplates as embarrassment swept through his frame. "Oh, uh, that's just... a sticker. My friend, Orion put it there a while ago, and I... forgot to remove it-"

"Oh no. Don't remove it." The tone of your voice peaked a little, as your gaze softened. Admiring the sticker's holographic shine. "It looks good on you. You should see my stasis pod in my private quarters."

A shy smile lit up his features, as D16's spark fluttered within it's chamber. "Y-You... you think so? I, uh... I appreciate that. And... what's on your stasis pod?"

"My favorite, Solus Prime. But I promise it's only a small sticker."

"Ah, a Solus fan, eh?" a small chuckle escaped his lips. Optics shining with a glimmer of amusement. "Not too shabby. Can't blame you, she was a badass warrior. And... only a small sticker, you say?"

Holding up your servo, almost pinching the air between your thumb and index digit. "This small. Nothing too crazy."

"Oh, phew." A light laugh escaped his lips, as D16 mockly wiped an invisible bead of condensation upon his forehelm. "I was worried you had her face on a full sized wall mural. But just a little sticker? That's much more reasonable."

Your sweet chuckles rung through the air between the pair of you, like a sweet melody. Lifting the awkwardness that lingered before, finally giving him the chance to actually feel connected with you.

Feeling a bit more emboldened, D16 continued. "Seriously. Solus is a solid choice. But I'd have to go with Megatronus, personally."

Raising an optic ridge, while tilting your helm to the side. "What draws to you him?"

Leaning back in his seat, a look of admiration sparkled within his optics. "Well, apart from being the most fearsome warrior in Cybertron's history. He was also a brilliant strategist! He could take on any opponent and come out on top! Plus, he's just... so incredibly powerful. Unstoppable really! I guess I've... always looked up to him for that kind of strength."

A small smile teased the corner of your lips, trying to hide it behind your cup. "That's very true. I gotta admit that he's a total badass."

"Oh. He's definitely a badass! I remember reading tales about his battles against the Quintessons, and let me tell you. They're the stuff of legend! He could take on an entire army by himself and come out with nothing but a scratch."

"Careful." Your teasing tone purred. "Your fanboy is showing."

The warmth beneath his faceplates grow even more, as embarrassment crept back into his frame. Clearing his vocal processor, attempting to return to his usual demeanor while his spark skipped a beat. "What? I'm just stating facts."

Taking the last sip from your drink, your soft gaze trailed down his chassis. D16 subconsciously shifts his body, covering his cogless chamber. His spark pulsing more, avoiding your gaze while taking another mouthful of his drink.

A lull ache pulsed throughout your frame, guilt jabbing your at your spark. "Forgive me... I-I shouldn't have starred-"

"It's... It's fine." The lull ache within you begun to painfully prick at your spark, as D16's words held a more rougher edge than he intended. "You were just curious. I don't blame you."

A subtle blanket of awkward silence slowly crept back into the air, as hesitation temporarily stole your words. A flicker of surprise flashed within D16's optics, as his soft gaze noticed your servo edging closer to him across the table. Breath almost got stuck in his vents as he met your optics, the colour shining with genuine curiosity and a hint of compassion.

The question swirling within your processor, softly escaped your lips in just above a whisper. "Can I...?"

Answering with a simple nod. D16 flinched slightly as you touched his cogless chamber, as if bracing himself for judgement or ridicule. Yet your expression remained soft, a hint of... affection? Flickering within your optics. As your digits gently traced the otter rim of his circular chamber, a strange sense of comfort washed over him. The gesture surprisingly tender, as he found himself relaxing under your touch.

"It's... It's a pretty pathetic sight... isn't it?"

Another prang of guilt pulsed throughout your inner-circuits, as you picked up the subtle shame hiding within D16's words. "What? No! No, of course not. Just... different..."

"Different? That's one way to put it." D16's tone held a bitter edge, while a scoff escaped him. "I mean... look at me. A cogless miner bot. I'm a pathetic excuse for a Cybertronian."

Great... Hanging his head low, a heavy sigh escaped him. Why did you steer the conversation in that direction? You idiot!-

Crunch!

Snap!

D16's optics widened as he witnessed you tear away a small section of your forearm. His puzzled gaze flickering to the soft smile upon your lips, your optics shining with kindness as an idea crossed your processor.

"Wait! What are you doing?-"

Your soft smile, sweetened as you leaned back in your seat. Purposely positioning yourself just out of his reach, while you worked on the scrap piece of metal. Only taking a few moments to flatten it, using the table's edge to smooth and round off the edges, before holding up the now makeshift disk for inspection.

"I... know it's not real." D16's spark fluttered within his chassis, as his wide optics met your loving gaze. His breath hitching as you reached across the table, placing the makeshift disk into his empty cog chamber. "But maybe... a part of me could be... your 'cog?'"

Staring down at the makeshift 'cog' which now rested in the chamber, a hopeful pulse beat through your inner circuits as your spark skipped.

For a moment, he couldn't find the words to express the swirling emotions within his spark. Surprise, gratitude, affection... They all crashed together in a wonderful mess.

"I-I... I don't know what to say. This is..." D16 slowly placed a servo over his cog chamber, feeling the shape of his new 'cog' inside.

The act itself wasn't just incredibly kind but... surprisingly intimate. The fact that you would willingly give up a part of yourself for him. To make him feel more... complete.

I-I... would never believed... never have imagined...

H-Have I... overstepped somehow? You nervously swallowed a lump in your vocal processor. Was it too much?

But the invisible tug upon the corners of his lips, was enough to slowly calm your racing spark. For he couldn't help but stare at you in quiet awe, as D16's processor still reel from your act. He gently reached a servo across the table, resting it atop your own. A silent gesture of gratitude and affection, while his optics met yours.

"Th-This... was unexpected- wonderful! Thoughtful! But just... unexpected..." he lowly spoke. "How could I ever thank you?"

"Well..." your sweet smile turned slightly flirty, as your thumb caressed D16's knuckles. "Maybe... you could demonstrate your strength to me? I... heard miners are strong."

D16's faceplates heats up at your flirtatious tone, a rush of nervous excitement tingles pulsed throughout his frame.

"O-Oh..." his amber optics glanced around the bar, making sure nobody was eavesdropping as he returned your smile. "And... how would you like me to demonstrate that? Perhaps somewhere more... private?"

Butterflies entangled your wires, as D16's servo took yours in a slightly tighter grip. "Where did you have in mind?"

His breath hitched a little, feeling you checking him out. The touch of your servo beneath his sent a shiver through his circuits. Gradual confidence filled his spark, as he leaned in a bit further, his voice dropping to a low, sultry tone. "I know a secluded spot not too far from here. It'll give us all the privacy we need for a... rigorous demonstration."

"Sounds perfect."

D16 gives you a sly smile, his frame buzzing with anticipation as you softly bit your bottom lip. Sliding out of the booth, his optics meeting yours. Extending a servo out to you, a silent offer to follow him. "This way gorgeous."

[dark-mnjiro]

[at the] bottom :: okkotsu yuuta

authors’s note: hello! This is my own submission for my “Touch of Divine Rush” collab that I ran! I apologize I’m a day late. With my grandmother’s passing - it was very difficult to focus on any projects without getting emotional. I hope you all enjoy this!

warnings: yuuta x gender neutral!reader, they/them pronouns, retelling of orpheus and eurydice, sprinkle of sukuna x afab!oc (aruna from my crown of thorns series), sprinkle of retelling of hades and persephone, angst, mentions and depictions of death, hurt/loss, comfort, yuuta not listening to directions to save his life, this is probably one of the more tame fics I’ve written but I’m super happy with it

so will you wait me out

or will you drown me out

“Yuuta!”

Panting and sweat dripping from his brow, Yuta shot up from his place next to the fire. How long has this journey gone on now? One day? Two? Three? He had seemingly lost count the further he journeyed into the underworld. Your voice was the only thing that kept him hoping and praying that this wasn’t for nothing.

He stood up before using the heel of his boot to extinguish the fire and grabbed his katana, securing it on his back. A sick feeling bubbled in his stomach. He knew he would have to fight to save you. But who could survive fighting the devil?

As he journeyed further, darkness seemingly surrounded him. The torch he used to give him light offered little assistance. It seemed the tunnel was growing longer with each step he took… and took him further down to hell.

Your name fell from his lips with a light whisper.

Your name was like music to his ears, causing a smile to curl over his lips. The sheer light in your eyes was enough to sustain him for life. With you, life seemingly made sense to him and he had a reason to continue, to keep fighting. It was as if life had meaning, had a purpose, again. Yuuta couldn’t just let you slip away so easily. He had to fight. For you… For both of you.

He called out your name again.

His voice grew louder as it echoed against the cave walls. A sigh fell from his lips as he reminisced about the last time he had spoken to you. Your hair caught in the breeze and the smile on your face only made the sparkle in your eyes even more pronounced. The way his name so easily slipped past your lips, like a chorus that constantly played over and over in his head. And almost within an instance - you were stolen from him.

Crying out your name, his voice echoed against the cave walls as he heard low growls echoing back toward him. He knew he was growing close as he slowly made out the large silhouette of what he would consider a monster.

“Cerberus,” he whispered to himself. He would have to stay quiet to sneak past the beast that guarded the gate to Hell. As his eyes strained at the darkness, he made out the yellow eyes of the three-headed dog before white teeth gleamed in the darkness. He tossed his torch aside, snuffing out the flame to confuse the beast before rushing into the darkness. If he made a run for it now, while it was confused by what direction he was coming from, he could seemingly get past it.

Or so he thought…

The beast’s massive paw came colliding with Yuuta’s body before sending him flying back against the wall. A low groan of pain emerged from the youth before he forced himself onto his feet. Blood seeped from the corner of his mouth as he wiped it away with his thumb.

“Clever beast,” he commented before grabbing his katana.

Yuuta rushed toward Cerberus before managing to stop its claws from striking him again with his katana before sending the blade through the flesh of the beast’s leg. Blood seeped from the wound, covering Yuuta’s face before the animal howled in pain and thrashed about, using its strength to try and take down Yuuta. Thankfully, Yuuta was able to dodge the onslaught before using the katana to injure the other leg.

“Stop!”

His body froze in place at the intruder.

“Stop it,” the voice was softer this time before Yuuta managed to make out a pair of red eyes.

“Who-?’ he asked, realizing the voice was feminine.

“What is a human doing here?” she asked.

Yuuta could feel the color draining from his face. It couldn’t be her.

“Answer me,” she hissed as the crimson in her eyes only darkened. “What is a human doing here? Get out… that is your final warning.”

It was the queen of hell herself. The lover of the devil. Perhaps, she would listen to his words.

“A-Aruna,” he began. “I’ve come here in search of my-”

Her red eyes narrowed. “... your lover is dead. You cannot save them. Not anymore,” she hissed. “Turn around and leave, mortal. You are not ready to be here.”

Her words made his stomach fall to his feet. It was impossible. “I want to see him.”

“He’ll kill you.”

“Then I’ll be with them.”

A heavy sigh left her lips as her gaze softened at his words. “You shouldn’t be in such a rush to die,” she commented. “Come…”

The walk was silent as Yuuta’s gaze stayed fixated on the dark queen in front of him. It seemed the rumors were true. She was cold and distant… it was said that her forced marriage to the king of the underworld only seemed to fuel her bitterness toward the world.

Aruna opened a door before walking inside. She signaled the guards to hold the door open so Yuuta may enter. His dark eyes widened as he took in the sight before him. Sure, it was dark - a perfect place for a king of the underworld, but it was filled with blazing torches and several extravagant decorations to flaunt the God of Death’s lesser-known titles of dealings with money.

“My queen…”

Aruna paused before looking up.

“What have you brought to me?”

“A mortal was found wandering the tunnels.”

Yuuta stepped into the room before looking up and seeing the God of death, the king of the underworld, leaning back on his throne with a smirk curling over his lips.

“He wishes for an audience with you,” Aruna explained before Sukuna motioned for her to approach the lesser throne next to him. Without question, she took her seat before a sigh fell from her lips.

Sukuna rested his chin in his hand before his red eyes flickered to his wife. “…for what? That silly dead-“

“I ask you to allow them to live. Let them leave this place and live out their days with me—!”

The grimace on Aruna’s face was enough to silence Yuuta as he knew he had made a grave mistake.

“Your lover is dead,” Sukuna spat. “A lost soul. You can’t get them back…”

“Please. There must be a way. Anything. I’ll do anything.”

The king of the underworld’s attention remained fixated on Yuuta before noticing his wife’s posture tensing in the seat next to him. “Anything you would like to say, my dear wife?” Sukuna asked, leaning into Aruna’s ear.

She turned to face him. Her face remained emotionless but the pain in her eyes was evident. “I think we should hear his case,” she whispered.

“…you sympathize with him?”

“He loves them,” she countered. “That much is clear. Why would he make such a treacherous journey if he did not truly love them? Let’s at least hear him out before you cast judgment.”

The smirk on his lips spread before running a hand through his queen’s fiery, red locks. “Boy…” he commanded. “Step forward. You may speak. You have my wife to thank.”

Yuuta was confused. Why would the queen of the underworld be so eager to hear his pleas after being so callous to him? Swallowing hard, he looked up at their thrones.

“Why?” he asked, quietly.

She was quiet for a moment, glancing away before returning her attention to him.

“Once upon a time,” she whispered, beginning a tale that sounded oddly familiar to Yuuta. A young goddess had grown weary of the life she was promised by her mother. She was to remain pure, untouched by any man or celestial being, and bring forth the spring each year. Everything had been so carefully calculated for her - the young goddess had no control, no say in her happiness… her own life.

The young goddess enjoyed her time away from her mother. And one day was seduced by words and promises to pull her away from the life that had been so carefully laid out for her. Quickly, she had agreed, disappearing into the darkness with a god, who promised her riches and a title no one could rival.

“And haven’t I showered you with more love and gifts than you could want?” Sukuna asked, his eyes fixated on his queen.

Yuuta was right.

This was her story…

She remained unmoved, staring at Yuuta. “She was seduced into darkness too soon. Perhaps, it’s too soon for your lover as well.”

Sighing, Sukuna stood up. “Speak.”

His body tensed, as the energy in the room shifted. “They-they were murdered,” Yuuta explained. “Taken before their time. The fates would never wish a fate so ill on any mortal. A monster slayed them…”

“A monster?”

“A centaur…”

Aruna’s gaze softened. “It pursued them?”

“And when they refused - it murdered them… I found their body… massacred.”

“Sukuna-”

His hand rose to silence his queen before staring at Yuuta once again. “You are correct the fates would not allow a mortal to die in such a fashion by such a creature,” he explained. “But, taking a soul back from the underworld is no easy task.”

Shaking his head, Yuuta shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “I’ll do anything.”

“I’ll allow you to lead their soul back,” Sukuna explained. “Under one condition.”

“Anything!”

“You may not look upon them once you begin your journey until they step out of the shadows and escape to the outside world,” he explained. “If you do… their soul is mine for eternity.”

“Sukuna-”

“Silence Aruna.”

Aruna sighed before looking away from him.

Sukuna returned his attention to Yuuta. “Do you understand?”

“…yes.”

Snapping his fingers, a figure appeared in front of Yuuta. His eyes widened before rushing toward you, encircling his arms around your body. Confusion washed over your expression, wondering just how you arrived here or why Yuuta was even here.

“Yuuta?”

His heart swelled at the sound of your voice saying his name in such a tender way before his grip on you tightened. “I’ve…I’ve come to take you home,” he whispered into your ear.

“Home…”

“Just remember our deal,” Sukuna interrupted.

“Of course,” Yuuta replied before turning away from you.

You were confused again as Yuuta refused to look at you again. “But Yuuta?”

“I’ll explain when we get out of here,” he assured you as he began walking away and motioning you to follow. Quickly, you followed trying to match the pace of his footsteps.

A sigh fell from his lips. Your footsteps… a reminder that you were still there. As long as he could make out your footsteps, he knew he could complete this challenge.

But the god of death wouldn’t give in so easily… Whispers of the dead began to fill the tunnel as Yuuta continued his long journey back with his lover in tow. He blinked, before shaking his head lightly. The whispers were becoming louder - harder to ignore. His lips fell into a frown.

“Yuuta…”

There it was. Your voice. Relief washed over him immediately.

“I’m right behind you Yuuta,” you continued.

“I know. I know.”

He strained his ears to listen to your soft footsteps, counting each one. One and two. One and two.

Are you sure they’re there?

Frozen, Yuuta stopped in his tracks.

He lied to you. He would never let anyone go.

The taunts were growing louder. Rubbing his head, Yuuta forced himself to keep going. Doubt began to fill his mind. Was she there?

“Yuuta,” you said again. “I’m right behind you.”

His steps faltered for a moment before a sense of relief washed over him again. Your voice managed to soothe the nagging sting s of doubt clouding his mind. You were there. Your steps were there. One and two. One and two.

Bright light flooded the tunnel, blinding Yuuta as he shielded his face with his forearm until his sight adjusted. The exit. Was it the exit? He took off in a sprint, knowing this hell was finally over.

“Yuuta! We did it!”

Your cheers were like music to him as the warm sunlight hit his pale face. A sigh fell from his lips before excitement filled his body. Quickly, he turned around to greet you. But what he hadn’t realized…

You hadn’t stepped out of the shadows yet.

“Yuuta… no.”

The light in your eyes before your body collapsed.

“No!”

Rushing to your lifeless body, Yuuta cradled you close to his chest. How could he have been so stupid? Tears flowed freely from his eyes before his body shook in remorse. How could he have done this to you?

He was so close.

And with that, the years passed. His body grew weary and tired. But not once did he forget about you. He embraced the idea of death, knowing you would be there to greet him one day and you could live out the dreams you once had planned for yourselves.

“Yuuta?”

His eyes widened before realizing he was standing in a beautiful garden, surrounded by flowers and trees. The blue sky above him was so peaceful that he couldn’t help but smile. He raised his hands, realizing his body was no longer frail, but young and strong again. Was this what death was truly like? What a magical place this was…

He heard his name again.

But the voice that spoke his name so gently, it couldn’t be…

Your name fell from his lips as he looked to see you standing with your arms outstretched wide.

“I’ve been waiting for you…”

He rushed toward you, embracing you tightly as a giggle bubbled from you.

“Welcome home…”

i can wait for you at the bottom

i can stay away if you want me to

i can wait for years if i gotta

heaven knows i ain't getting over you

[bitchfitch]

The Maze was a place of turmoil. the constantly shifting walls didn't care if there were bodies between them and their next position. Many were lost to thirst or hunger. Many more to the monsters that roamed the seemingly endless halls.

Countless adventurers and warriors and scholars too curious for their own good had entered. Most would not be seen again, few would return with stolen riches and a hollow look in their eyes.

So much suffering concentrated in a place meant to trap and disorient congealed at the Maze's heart, forming a spring of fine water that sputtered red like a gash through an artery.

To drink from it near the Maze's entrance would drive the most passive monk mad with bloodlust. Towards it's middle it would grant vigor and heal all wounds while ripping the mind to shreds. At it's mouth was the source of eternal life and a body made anew.

The fountain of youth, some called it. Its the womb of the Maze, others said. Either way, it's the place where the Maze digs its claws into you and makes you part of itself. Another monster to roam its halls in an endless search for battle.

The cavern that surrounds the spring was the one place the walls stilled, where no monster would dare growl, where the Maze remade its fallen children to bare them anew once more. Cured or healed or brought home from whatever far off land they had roamed too.

It was decorated as a temple, honoring the Maze the monsters called home. Its attendants a clan of sphinx who took on the duty of welcoming those who rose from the waters back into their home. Feeding them and giving them a place to rest and collect themselves before giving them guidance on how to find their own clans once more.

Ironic it was that they had a hole in their ranks.

Monsters had been going missing. First it was their Guardian, the great white bull that defended his prison turned home. Then it was the ferals, the monsters who were born human. Then others and others until finally the takers narrowed their focus to the outer sphinx clans. Picking off lone siblings who walked the paths with no one to watch their backs, then taking entire clans in single attacks.

For so long none ever returned. Their losses echoing through the Maze as though the structure itself grieved for it's missing children.

The Temple Sphinxes had thought themselves immune, had thought they laid their paths too deep into the Maze to ever lose kin to those invading beasts.

It was arrogance. They only lost one, they were lucky in that way, but still they grieved for it in a way they never had had to grieve before. Death was benign, whatever the attackers did with their prizes, death was not something they were allowed.

But, the stolen began to return. One by one they would clamber from the spring. Terrified and wide eyed like they hadn't expected to ever see home again. They told of poachers and alchemists and tortures of the mind and body. They told of their Guardian, of the Bull, trapped in gold chains but still protecting them however he could. Saving them and allowing them to drink from the Maze's waters until they were one with the Maze enough to return.

They told of corpses that didn't turn to ash as soon as death took them. Monsters held away from the Maze for far too long until they were no longer one of its children.

The Temple Sphinxes waited for their lost kin to return. It had too. They held out hope for so, so long. The rest of the missing had all been accounted for. Either they returned or another was able to carry word of their demise to the clans. Their kin had to rise from the waters soon. It had to have stayed to act as guide for the stolen. An extension of their duty here beside the spring.

They waited and waited. None carried word of its death. Many claimed to have seen it at the side of the Guardian. It still didn't return.

Outside the Maze's grand entrance was the kingdom's palace. Its lavish halls and sparkling gilding acting as guard and foyer to the nightmare the previous king demanded be built.

Within that palace, up a flight of stairs and down a hall lined with portraits of people who would spit and sneer at the creatures they named monsters, was a fine bedroom. Its walls gouged and dented, it's decorations pulled down and destroyed by frustrated hands until all that stood were the simple fineries a home sick monster could appreciate.

The Bull, Serapis, once a prince, then a Guardian, now a king, sat on his couch awaiting the return of the truest friend he had ever known.

The missing sphinx, Aetius, would go home today. The wounds it had bore when Serapis first met it were long healed. The aid it had been able to provide in his quest to exterminate the poachers had done its job. The excuses it gave both of them for why it should stay at Serapis's side were worn thin.

He wanted to be happy for it. It was going home.

He wanted to beg it to stay. He wanted to demand to know why it would abandon him to this isolation once more.

The gods had demanded he take his step father's throne. The lands had been blighted and the Maze riddled with plague until he was forced from his home to govern the one that had cast him out.

The door opened, Aetius slinked in. Its golden feathers smooth and shining in the late evening sunlight that poured in through the large windows. The mountain of jewelry it had worn since it discovered he wouldn't stop it from taking whatever it wanted from his family's collection had all been returned to its original place. It was a shame Aetius couldn't take the pieces with it. Most hadn't been touched in decades, and every single piece looked far better decorating its lithe form than they did gathering dust in a dark room no one was allowed entry into.

Aetius came over to him, climbing up onto the couch beside him, half laying down on it and half draped over his arm. Its chin resting on the bulk of his shoulder, the heat of its body warming his fur.

Neither of them spoke, both stealing a few more minutes of hesitation before they would have to say goodbye.

If it had been from any other clan this goodbye would have only been temporary. Much of the Maze's upper layers had no ceiling. It could climb the walls with it's mighty claws and take off from there. Flying to meet him in the palace gardens before returning again to the fountain where the Temple Sphinxes kept constant track of the Maze's movement. They wouldve been able to tell Aetius how to return to his clan from there if it didn't feel like doing the math itself.

But Aetius was a Temple Sphinx. To attempt to leave its place amongst its kin and their shared work would have it expelled from their ranks. It loved it's family and the work they did too much to ever dream of abandoning them. It hated life in the palace too much to be tempted to stay for any reason other than how dreadfully it would miss the connection it had found with Serapis.

"How much longer may we linger?" it sighed heavily. For every part of it that ached with what it would soon lose, there was a part of it that sang with eagerness to be home and in the arms of its family once more.

"How ever long you want," Serapis replied even if he knew the question was not meant to be answered. Aetius could not speak directly, no sphinx could, so it spoke only in questions. He stood from the couch and took its narrow hand in his, guiding it to walk with him to his balcony. "Madeline will have my head as a mount if we do this where the ash will leave stains."

"Would she be able to win that fight?" Aetius met his somber joke with one of its own.

"Maybe. You've met the woman, were it to her liking she could be queen of the ferals without the waters help." he opened the creaky glass door, snorting at the image of his maid with her grey streaked hair and neat skirts surrounded by ferals who had lost much of what made them look human.

The evening was giving away to sunset, the city beyond the palace gates bustling as torches and lamps began to be lit along the roads. Sunset was always the time of goodbyes in the stories Serapis's mother had read him when he was young. Something about this goodbye happening as the light turned golden felt right.

Aetius sat on the mosaic tiles, it's hindmost legs folding neatly under the lion half of its body. The more human upper half didn't lower. It had to crane it's head to look up at him, the angle making the flat gold of its eyes shimmer like marbles.

He put his hands either side of its shoulders, dragging them along their shelf, through it's thick mane, until he had his thumbs either side of its throat. His fingers laced behind its neck. Its eyes fluttering shut at his touch.

It stopped him with a single tap on his wrist.

"If it be the Maze's will, may we see each other again?" the curse of the sphinxes warped the simple goodbye. A small token of the culture that had grown within the Maze extended to him as a final farewell.

"By the Maze's will, may we see eachother again." he replied, before crossing his thumbs accross the front of its throat.

A sharp jerk, a crack sounding from where he had snapped its neck, and it was limp in his hands.

Serapis knelt, guiding Aetius's corpse to lay on the warm tiles as the tips of its wings fell away to ash. He rested it's head in his lap, his fingers combing through its mane as shining golden fur was overtaken by grey. Muscle and bone and organ, skin and hair and feathers became dust in the breeze until all that remained on the balcony was a lonely bull.

[keeganhogan]

No Regrets For Our Youth

After the two films by Ozu Yasujiro, I was almost caught off guard with how quickly a central driving force in the plot is introduced here in Kurosawa Akira’s No Regrets For Our Youth. Kurosawa uses the real-life event of the Kyoto University incident, where the Japanese government suspended and eventually fired a beloved professor for his “Marxist” views inciting faculty-wide resignations and student protests, not as the primary plot point of the movie, but as the inciting event for the characters which he studies. I found this use of a very historically real event to introduce and develop fictional characters an interesting choice, especially given that the professor that was suspended has been replaced with a fictional character also. It ends up being a great choice though, as the way we see our characters grow and respond to this situation and the eventual wartime, especially for Yukie, our main character, is very well-done.

            Initially Yukie is a young, immature girl who doesn’t seem to want to care about the issues surrounding her life. She is constantly surrounded by her father’s students and is involved in a playful love triangle among two of them, Noge and Itokawa. It isn’t until Noge ends up imprisoned for the student riots that she begins to come to terms with the things happening around her. Before that, her father’s suspension and even finding a dead soldier on a hillside are things that she won’t let bother her, at least on the surface. Then begins her transformation.

            Her first major step towards her growth comes when choosing between Itokawa and Noge. If she chooses Itokawa, the more reserved, submissive man, her life would have been comfortable, but as she puts it, boring too. She is beginning to acknowledge the problems that society faces and understand Noge’s fiery opposition to fascism and admires him for it. She eventually chooses him, leaving behind the indifferent girl who would rather play piano then worry about politics. The theme of “no regrets” is obviously very important, as she goes all in on her life with Noge, leaving behind her family and risking not only her and Noge’s life, but also that of her family, should she ever be labeled a traitor, as we see later in the film. She could ride it out comfortably like Itokawa does, but knowing she fought alongside Noge rather than sit back and watch everything unfold is preferable to her, another signal of her increased maturity and determination.

            I was surprised to see a film focus so heavily on a female protagonist from this time, especially one that is very politically active and societally independent. Following Noge’s death, instead of giving up and resigning herself to a life of grief, she moves out to the country with Noge’s parents and decides to learn how to work a grueling farm-life, as a girl who grew up comfortably near the city. Her commitment to them eventually shows Noge’s parents that his commitment was to Japan and what is right, and whereas initially they cursed their son for the misfortune his actions brought upon them, by the end of the film they realize that it was the fascist government and society that was the real problem. Even showing that truth to two people, Yukie did more activist work than Itokawa had ever even thought about doing. While Itokawa lived a much more comfortable life than Yukie did, her mother at the end of the film even saying that she was doomed to a life of suffering, Itokawa seems to have no real sense of fulfillment to show for it, while Yukie explains to her mother that she doesn’t see it that way, and is proud of the work and change that she has done in her life, despite all of the misfortune.

            Overall, I found this film a very surprising work of historical fiction, not used for the purpose of contextualizing a new story within a known event, but instead using the event almost as an excuse to develop a very compelling, female character within the context of wartime activism and ideological maturity.

[mountphoenixrp]

We have a new citizen in Mount Phoenix:

           Mani, the Norse God of the Moon.            He is the owner of Bohdisattva Counseling Center.

FC NAME/GROUP: Lee Taemin / SHINee GOD NAME: Mani PANTHEON: Norse OCCUPATION: Director and Psychologist at Bohdisattva HEIGHT: 175cm DEFINING FEATURES: Generally androgynous features, long limbs, broad shoulders, round high cheeks, defined jawlines, glowy skin. He always emits a soft, moon-like aura that intensifies when the surroundings get dark, making him visible to others even in complete darkness.

PERSONALITY: Mani is a gentle enigma. His gentleness is hard-earned, as it encompassed his wisdom gained through thousands of cycles of karmic chase and run, and through thousands more of mortal lives among humans, the beings he was born to adore.

He is the Fiery One of Asgard, a fierce cosmic force that transcended the age of the Aesir and Vanir gods. His watchful gaze extends to the vulnerable, the wounded, and the scarred, offering them unwavering protection and patient guidance. To all evil entities in the Nine Worlds, he remains relentless, the lack of mercy he has for them is as clear as the moonlight in all its glory.

The Norse god of the moon stays youthful in his lunar energy, an ageless presence that can and does heal broken bones and broken hearts. Many have considered him reliable, as the moon religiously stays in the sky and its phases are never unrhythmic. While that is true, he is also the root of the English word ‘lunatic’.

Friendly, helpful, yet complex in his intertwined bright and dark sides, he can be known by many, yet can be truly understood by very few. Mani, despite rich layers of tenderness, humanity, and nurturing nature, constantly fluctuates through the repetitive phases of overjoy and melancholy. The god is generous in sharing his happiness with the world, but when sadness runs deep or when the cosmos needs to get its evilness fix, he denies them all even the slightest ray of light. He keeps guard of beings’ safety and peacefulness, but at times, he may turn them into neurotics. To everyone, the moon is approachable, as long as they remember not to get too close.

HISTORY: The moon personified Mani, whose legend is woven into the rich tapestry of Germanic mythology, is a celestial deity revered and worshipped by the Germanic tribes. His name is often invoked in prayers and spells heard throughout the lands of Scandinavia, Germany, and England.

Born into the House of Mundilfari, Mani is the son of a prideful father and the brother of Sol. The siblings’ fates were sealed the day Mundilfari honoured his children’s beauty by calling his daughter ‘sun’ and his son ‘moon’. The two’s names shone so bright their lights insulted the gods, so they were taken away and tied to two chariots that would never cross paths. Sol was ceaselessly chased by the wolf Sköll from the east to the west of the earth, while he had to flee from the jaws of Hati Hróðvitnisson from the west to the east.

And that was, as a legend once said, a long ass ride.

The chase did not end until the time of Ragnarök. In the meantime, Mani traversed the universe on his chariot drawn by the horse Hrimfaxi. His shadow tirelessly danced across the night sky, at times casting over his light to fool around with the wolf Hati. Beings were left in awe of the rhythm of his sways, so much so that they religiously observed his escapes, and learned to lace their own interpretations of the messages conveyed by his moves into poetic labels. Today’s humans collectively called his little tricks ‘moon phases’, which when he heard through the prayers of his worshippers, Mani laughed, his light shone through the night, chasing away all dark clouds and evil forces.

Mani also collected many epithets on that seemingly endless journey, gifted to him from beings in The Nine Worlds. "Fiery one" by the gods, "the hastener" by the jötnar, "the shiner" by the dwarves, "the counter of years" by the elves, "the whirling wheel" in Hel, and "moon" by mankind. Still, his favourite is the "Man in the Moon” by his English worshippers. He finds the way his name was solidified in the modern-day human’s life as the most dreadful day of the week funny, yet somewhat endearing, adding one more reason to why he had always biased the Midgards.

Despite never getting himself deeply involved in any shenanigans of Asgard, Mani has been highly regarded among his fellow Norse gods. His existence was said to precede that of Odin the All-Father, but Mani had gone so far into his moon business that he did not find the time to have that confirmed. It was ironic how easy it was for him to lose track of time, while a better part of his existence's purpose was to help others count each night passing by the Nine Worlds.

Another part of his duty was to ensure the moons, planets, stars, and tides in all worlds piously followed the rhythms of his chariot, maintaining a harmonic flow of the cosmos. Moreover, he shall give responses in one way or another whenever his name is called. Thanks to Odin the All-Father, who advised beings to invoke the moon for protection against malice forces, Mani had never since then found himself less of a busy moon. To the Norse people, he was not just a luminary far above the sky, but a guide and guardian, offering them assurance and guidance through life's challenges. Mani did that with dutiful endearment and occasional neglect, because there was only so much a god could do while the jaws of Hati were persistently hot on his (w)heels.

In some senses, Mani felt more related to humans than to his fellow gods. Once upon a time, while he was enjoying his daily chase with Hati the wolf across the sky of Midgard, Mani heard a wish. That wish was spoken by two children, a prayer sent not directly to him, but to the well Byrgir (Old Norse-"Hider of Something"). As he looked down from his chariot, Mani saw Hjúki and Bil, carrying on their shoulders the pole Simul (Old Norse-"eternal") that held the pail Sæg between them. The young siblings prayed for an escape from Viðfinnr, their neglectful, abusive father. The following evening, when Hjúki and Bil were back to the well with the pole and the pail, they saw Mani with an offer to join him through his journey across the heavens. The two never uttered a ‘yes’ faster in their life, and soon they happily followed Mani through the universes as his loyal companions and assistants.

But nothing, even the lifetime of a god, lasted forever.

Since the beginning of his existence, Mani had prepared to meet his demise foretold in Ragnarök. There was not a great surprise that came to him as one day, midway through another round of chasing, the horse Hrimfaxi collapsed, and his chariot broke itself into pieces. Mani perished in one single bite of Hati, as the god knew his time had come and there was no use fighting against it. His ‘death’ marked the first completely moonless night in the entire Nine Worlds, one of the bad omens his fellow Norse gods dreaded yet long-awaited receiving.

After Ragnarök, like some of Norse gods, Mani was revived. Hati had helped kill the old version of Mani, the chariot-bound moon god who spent his existence mostly running away from an inevitable beastly problem. Broken free from the devices that tightened him to such a miserable existence, Mani travelled the worlds on his own feet, guided and empowered by his own light.

Since then, he spent most of his time experiencing over and over the life of a human on Midgard, feeling all types of joys and pains and gains and losses, reenacting the rhythms he once danced on the chariot with perishable flesh and bones. He lost Hjúki and Bil in the flow of time, but he got for himself more children on this wolf-free journey, some he found, some he made in collaboration with those humans whose prayers he happened to hear. Mani was aware that he was not, and would not be a good father most humans would like to stereotype. Yet, as far as his lunar power could reach, none of his offspring died an unwise death on his watch. A pretty impressive job in fathering half-god humans, Mani supposed.

One day, his ears caught the name of Mount Phoenix, an island where some of his fellow Norse gods, their descendants, gods of other pantheons, and their descendants chose to call home in this universe. Looking down from above through the moonlight, Mani saw the island’s potential. And so, with his luggage almost empty - as he realised there was not much baggage he wanted to bring along - Mani made a quiet walk across the bridge to enter Mount Phoenix.

A new moon is home.

Or is it?

POWERS:

Lunar & Lunar Energy Manipulation: He can shape and manipulate all aspects of the moon(s), including its gravity and the effects it has on the planet, reflective surface, time-keeping, etc. He can also use its lunar energy to generate objects at will.

Lunar Healing: He can heal others using lunar energy. His power works on both physical and mental wounds, although mental healing often requires more time and energy. His healing power is generally more efficient during nighttime when the sky is clear.

Lunar Generation: He can generate lunar light and energy that can be used for various purposes. The generated lunar energy and objects that are created by it work decently during the daytime but reach their maximum power and capability when the sun goes down.

Lunar Vision: He can see everything that is happening on the Earth through the moonlight. As this power relies on moonlight, Mani can only observe where the moonlight can reach. He cannot see through solid, opaque materials and objects, the underground world, or the depths of rivers, seas, and oceans.

Lunaportation: He can teleport via lunar energy, as he can physically merge with the lunar energy and appear anywhere else that the moonlight can reach. This power is less effective during daytime, and even less effective when Mani is in his human vessel, hence its limited use.

STRENGTHS:

Mani can create almost all tangible objects one might think of using lunar energy. The lunar-made objects can perform just as the real ones, and their effects may be enhanced on full moon nights.

The god emits a soothing aura that keeps humans feeling relaxed and safe in his presence. His aura may have a similar effect on demigods and demigoddesses of perceived benevolent forces, while the opposite is true on descendants of perceived malevolent deities.

He is a competent healer and protector who offers help whenever he is called for.

He is creative, and his energy encourages and nurtures creativity in others. Artists, performers, writers, and creative individuals may benefit from asking for his guidance or frequently being exposed to his energy.

WEAKNESSES:

Some of his primordial powers, including lunar generation and lunarportation, have certain limitations in their effect since after Ragnarok. These limitations are most easily seen when he stays in a human vessel.

Mani is not always a good force. His dark side, though largely ephemeral, can emerge to provoke and enhance negative energies in the cosmos, including but not limited to over-hyperactivity and hallucination that prevent beings from seeing life as it is. Demigods and demigoddesses of malevolent deities may benefit from this dark energy. One will need to check the lunar phases before considering invoking the name of Mani.

He hardly lets any beings come close enough to figure out his complexity, and does not have the desire to explain himself to anyone.

He loves the worlds and their beings as a collective, but rarely truly loves them as individuals, making his gentleness and affection seem fickle and conditional at times.

[loksthegreat]

Sooo I’ve been asked about Queen Cassella Martell, which is great because I fucking LOVE Cassella Martell!!

So sadly she I can’t put the years cause Cassie lives after the time of Queen Elaena IV and I haven’t figured out the exact times for that period yet. Anyway back to my Queen:

Cassella was the eldest daughter of the prince of Dorne, but her claim was usurped by her uncle when her father died, because she was a young girl with a very unstable alcoholic mother and her uncle a much more experienced politician and commander. So girl essentially spend her entire youth as a political hostage in her on home, constantly worried whether her uncle would one day decide to rid himself of her completely. She was chooses by the young king Aegon XX as a bride instead of her cousin when he visited Dorne to make a marriage alliance with Cassellas uncle. Her uncle tried to have her killed for the bruise the kings choice left on his daughters ego, but Cassie saw it coming and managed to convince the knight of guard duty to let her go, since he always had had a soft spot for the girl. She rode into the desert and managed to make it to Ghost hill by a miracle, where Lord Toland took her in, risking the anger of his liege. She married Aegon a few months later and while the king seemed fond of her at first his fancy was passing when Cassella failed to become pregnant. Not a year later he brought his first mistress to the keep, the bastard daughter of house Wylde and Estermont, the beautiful Aryana Storm. Cassella was a smart and capable queen and did a better job at keeping the realm together than her husband ever could, something that would become very apparent during their separation, as the humble and dutiful dornishwoman had always led Aegon take the credit for her work in public. Cassella was a devout woman and made a point to met with the pious men and women of the small folk under the eyes of the seven often, while her husband preferred to surround himself with whores and drink. Once when Aegon was passed out drunk the morning on which he had been planned to ride out with his gathered forces and confront the rebellious lord Baratheon, Cassella downed the spare amor of the smallest of his kingsguard and rode out instead. She returned home victorious, without having had to draw steel, an act that led the men of the realm to respect their queen immensely while her husband simply stated that perhaps if she was less like a man she had be able to give him a child. Five years after Aryana had joined her kings household she gave birth to a bastard daughter, a girl named Marya Waters. Aegon who had lost both of his parents to a war that he blamed on his predecessor Queen Elaena VI desperately wanted to prevent another woman ever sitting the iron throne. As a result of this mindset he became enraged with the birth of a daughter, and had Aryana beheaded for cheating on him. His hand infamously said: “to have a whore beheaded for adultery is to be angry with a babe for crying, it is in its nature, as much as it is in our lords to be small of mind”. Cassella however also fell pregnant a year later and upon the birth promptly left kingslanding to pay a visit to the starry sept and have her daughter present to the high septon, to be blessed by him. She named her Elaena VII (Aegon loved that name I’ll tell you) and went to spend the rest of her live at highgarden with her close friend, lady Elinda Tyrell. Ironically her daughter would follow her father as queen and never married much like her many half-sisters, resulting in the end of her fathers line.

[mrdrhenwardhykle]

INSERT 25¢ TO CONTINUE : Into the AudoScape-Level 2: Cade Craze

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The Arcade itself was an add-on building hidden underneath a large mall. They found it by traveling through the underpass that stooped and curved all the way down, passing the families entering and exiting the mall, as well as a long line of young women in short pants and roller skates. Through the isolated and constantly appearing space-themed decorations, our group knew they were finally almost there. Parking in an area close to the entrance, our group finally found themselves in the local haven for misbehavin' teens and children alike. The entrance was guarded by four tall golden statues of typical uncanny sci-fi-styled animals and creatures, alongside truck stoppers sloppily disguised as planets. The building itself was colored in dark blue and magenta tones sprinkled in with the imagery of stars and constellations, giving the illusion of looking up at the sky at night. Beyond the doors roared the loud and lively chatter of youth, excitedly tossing their coins in the machines to get their fill of playtime before the upcoming holiday break fully hit.

Allope's eyes widened at the wondrous sight of the larger-than-life establishment in all its spaced-themed glory. Making a run for the closest cool attraction, Rebecca managed to snatch her by her oversized jacket before she was out of sight. 

"WOAH-WOAH-WOAH!-Here-" Rebecca intervened, gifting Allope with a heavy quarter-filled sock, "Don't whack someone down with it...unless you have to, of course!" giving a grin and wink. The little girl existed loudly by swinging around the sock while charging at the games like some sort of barbarian.

"That was a lot of change, wasn't it?..." Freddie spoke his concerns, "Do you even have enough for yourself? How did you even get that much-"

"Relax," the teenage girl interrupted, "I'll be fine. I have my ways. I'm just going to disappear over by that room," she pointed to a dark corridor across the concession stand. Rebecca spotted her desired group of friends immediately as if she knew, leaving Freddie to play 'friends' by spotting any of the local jocks hanging around the arcade machines. 

Freddie didn't want to spend time with the jocks on his football team, nor did he ever find much excitement in playing virtual games; rather he looked forward to getting this anxiety fest over with, just to see his father's satisfaction in his son when he asked how the night was. Being gruff and damaging the brain that could lead him into the right college wasn't the most ideal future for Freddie, but he could at least pretend well enough; so there's no issue there, right? For the most part, he'd just stoop down to the jock's level well enough that they would never guess to how much he really despised being around them. Deep inside, however, Freddie would much rather stick with Rebecca or just always be there for Allope, but hated the thought of others lowering or increasing how they saw his security and masculinity. But perhaps if it weren't for Rebecca's odd habit to fall down unfamiliar rabbit holes of mystery and paranoia,  or the embarrassing thought of ever admitting to pretty much being Allope's 'third parent,' Freddie would have considered dropping the act.

For what felt like a lifetime away from her two companions, Allope greatly contemplated choosing the first game to play. Just like being left in the middle of a brand-new candy store, all of her options looked too good but too unfamiliar to figure out which one she should experience first.

"The art on the side of that one looks cool,"

"Oh but that one looks cool too!"

"Oh-Oh! Frogger! I like frogs!"

"All those kids seem to like that one, should I like it too?"

"OH! LOOK! PINBALL!....What's Pinball?"

Stumped, Allope considered stopping to take a full view of her surroundings. Suddenly, a black hole opened up from the wacky planet-themed carpet and sucked away all of the machines in question, except one: "Dragon's Lair."

What a night in the life of Allope! Discovering a new world, one spectacular step at a time. The demo seen from the screen displayed what seemed like a movie. "But why would they ever put buttons and levers on a movie?" Allope pondered. Questions were answered as the demo came to a close, with the silent main character making an attempt to kill a swarm of skulls, but failing by being knocked down and potentially killed by a hoard of them. "Woah!" Allope exclaimed loudly as passing children looked at her oddly. No thoughts other than "Waste all my money on this one game" came over her as she hurled herself towards it.

"OUCH!" a young girl shouted as Allope blindly barreled into her, knocking both down on the gritty carpet.

"OH! I'm so sorry! I'm sorry! Sorry! Please don't tell my brother!" Guilt fell upon Allope once she was able to put herself together.

"Oh um, it's okay!" The young girl looked about a few years older than Allope. She seemed hesitant over meeting someone so forward; as that didn't often go well with the impatient teens and kids that usually hung out at the arcade. Allope held the girl's arm as they both got up, "You're pretty fast," The girl remarked,"I was just about to play that Dragon game, and I didn't even see you there."

"You're pretty quick too! I didn't even see you there! I was just about to do the same thing!"

Both girls gave a look of sudden realization, "Oh..." the young girl replied, disappointed.

"OH! What if we help each other play, and take turns?", Allope suggested.

"Oh yeah- I like would that! I didn't want to have to end up fighting over it with somebody again. It's never fun to do. That would just take the fun out of playing it," The two girls made a truce, so one would patiently wait for the other to lose all 3 lives for their next turn.

Five stages strong, Allope pushed through far enough on her 4th quarter. Across the bridge, past the falling room, the magic wall, and beyond the trial of burning ropes, Dirk the Daring found himself in the middle of a predicament when the floor itself gave way under his feet. Becoming a true victim to gravity, Dirk's final chance of survival is to jump off quickly once an opening is spotted. "Now- Now!", her cade-companion demanded once hearing the hint's sound effect play off. Allope didn't budge to make the move, queuing in footage of the falling platform and Dirk suddenly crashing into the floor. Allope chuckled at the lack of help, as Dirk was last seen with a look of disappointment on his decaying face, just before disintegrating into dust and a pile of bones.

"Ah, man. I didn't see it, did you?" Allope grumbled while trading places.

"Yes!" the slightly-older girl exclaimed while maintaining eye contact, "It made the blinky noise, didn't you hear it? I even told you when to jump!"

"It makes a sound?! I didn't hear that, or you!" Allope exclaimed, instantly feeling regret in bringing light to her once friendship-ruining 'issue'. Now it was the young girl's turn, so both kids swapped sides. "Well-okay. See this thingy on my ear?" Allope asked, "My momma gave me this when I was really little and it became super hard to hear one  day. Ever since then, even with this thingy on, it's very difficult to hear people or things around me if I'm not lookin' at 'em. I can make it out better if I'm reading your lips."

"Really?" the young girl questioned, "-...but you're just a kid... Things like that usually happen to old people in retirement homes or kooks who hang around explosions. You didn't explode your house did you?"

Allope giggled, "I lost it when I was three, so I don't remember what I exploded to be like this. But momma says it's "geny-tick" and poppa says the hearing fairy came by one night and took it away cause' I was naughty."

"WHAT?! THEY CAN JUST DO THAT?!" exclaimed the young girl, cuffing her ears. They both laughed. At that moment, Dragon's Lair fell victim to the suffocating grip of the black hole in the carpet just like its brethren, allowing for the coolest thing in this whole building to be '... uh... whoever this is-'.

"You're so nice with everything I just said about myself! Kids I meet just think I'm some weirdo. What's your name?" Allope felt a deep need to ask.

"Huh? Yeah! I'm Jaquie, but I just like to be called Jack," Jack held out her hand to formally shake, for Allope to just lo-five it. "Hah-you know, I kind of know how you feel about that. My mom would probably kill me if she knew I was racing around here all crazy-like. My legs used to give up on me a lot when I was super young and I had to take lots a pills n' junk for it. They still do that sometimes when my body or brain get too much goin' on with em'. But it sucks for me because all I can think of is growing into the world's best athlete. All I want is to watch and do all those things, but mom won't let me anymore because it 'gives me bad thoughts'."

Both girls wadded up their small pile of tickets and took a small stroll down the aisles of machines and games. The lack of dinner beforehand caused Jack to feel very weak during their long-winded string of conversations. A rush of forgotten information came flooding back to Jack on a whim. Jack tugged Allope by the arm all the way to the shiny white and silver-colored concession stand. The adventure stopped right to a table seated by a peculiar boy.

"You done already, Jack?!" A bratty-lookin' kid with a large amount of poofy-curly hair attempting to escape his red, netted cap.  Alongside the he wore a pin-ridden jean jacket, he was sporting a baggy and worn-out Spiderman shirt. In his hand, the little sneak was covering a coin tied to his ring finger.

Pulling Allope's attention to her, Jack introduced Allope to her close friend, Dewly. Dewly said his 'hellos' just to chatter on about something for a bit, making it very hard for Allope to decipher what he was saying because of his quick and exaggeratedly hyper tone of voice. He seemed to talk on for a bit, but the most she read from his lips was something about "drums", "bike", and "Master of the Arcade;" those were the words he seemed to pronounce and mention the most. Jack gave out a laugh she must have given out hundreds of times before, with Allope awkwardly laughing as if she understood every word. He stood up quickly, leaving his half-eaten pizza to shake Allope's hand like a pure madman; it was assumed at this point that this kid had a lot of energy.

Despite their disruption to verbal communication, both parties began to become very fond of one another right away. Allope chose a moment to break whatever subject he was going on about to talk a little bit about herself to Dewly, soon after Jack described something about Allope to Dewly to make his eyes widen in realization. "IT IS VERY NICE TO MEET YOU, ALLOPE!" Dewly cuffed his mouth to make a tube shape with them and shouted, attempting to over pronounce every syllable as much as possible.

"THANK YOU!" She shouted even louder.

Dewly finished up his slice, but caved in for an excuse to get another because Jack was hungry. With her mom's spare cash, Jack was able to pay for all three of them to get a slice of their own. Allope's piece tasted like the chef melted cheese over a piece of cardboard, as well as the pepperoni looking and tasting like no other pepperoni she'd ever tasted before. She ate what she could to please her new friends, and threw the rest of the horrible cuisine away in a nearby decorative pot when the other two weren't looking.

Jack suggested they move into the "Party Room," a section across the way. Behind the arch, all Allope could see was a few glowing decorative stars and ufos,  but by closer inspection she spotted a band of slouched-over creatures, with pulled, wrinkly, flesh-like latex faces, and human-like eyes slightly detached from their sockets. The cartoony likeness of these creatures didn't soften the uncanny, creepy feeling that their eyes, teeth, and rubbery skin gave off. This sight gave Allope the feeling that she might get eaten up or taken away if she got any closer to them, so she made an excuse to head back to the game room immediately. They exited the little offside area into the main play zone. Although the other two didn't take much notice, Allope was bothered by the detail that the room is a tad darker than it was before, just like if a row of lights gave out when they weren't in the area. It wasn't blatantly obvious to the average viewer going about their visit.

The group was led by Dewly, who gave attention first to Centipede. Ducking down and shifting his head from side to side for clearing, Dewly inserted the coin attached to his finger and gave it a pull once he heard the game's start up theme. The quarter came out soon enough as Dewly jumped back up on his feet. Allope didn't know what to make of his actions, while not fully realizing that he was stealing, she contemplated as she never thought of using a shortcut like that herself. Dewly was locked in, he was able to move the cursor flawlessly without getting hit for about 7 levels. The thought that kids much like her not being fairly new to these alien mechanics was a distant thought to Allope until this very moment. That coin on his finger must have been pulled dozens of times before for him to be this good at something that looks so impossible. 'He must have the smartness to another world that I've always wanted to have!' Allope pondered.

Dewly quickly had become bored of playing with Centipede, and ran toward the front in search for something much better. Passing rows of good-looking games, Dewly seemed displeased with all of them, just as if he played them all to death already. At long last, the sight of a typical racing game caught his attention. "Oh yeah! This one!" He exclaimed while in the process of bending down to insert his lucky coin.

Allope, as bored as Dewly was with every other game in the arcade, was bothered as she suddenly remembered something very important, causing her to spot her brother's ride outside of the glass doors. She didn't think of it it until now, but she wasn't sure why she had just thought of it, as if its presence in the world had finally become disturbing to Allope as she stared at the immobile vehicle behind the glass doors. To a sudden, the vehicle itself gave an eerie green glow, as the space themed synth music over the speakers was interrupted by the blaring of a disembodied voice she might have heard once in Freddie's car. 'Maybe it's linking to the radio-' She thought as the lights flickered rapidly. Jack shielded her eyes and fell down to her knees in disturbance by this. "Freddie?!" Allope screamed in a panic.

The coin fell in on its own while Dewly was distracted, and was held onto by the shredding machinery. "It's stuck. It won't get out! Help!-HELP!" he cried out as the machine pulled in the string. Allope tried to help him, but was thrown out of the way by a strange figure in a weird-looking animal suit with a football-shaped head. Out of a hidden pocket, the mascot pulled out a pocket knife that was sharp enough to easily cut the string. "Thanks, Comet Cliff!" Dewly chuckled in an awkward guilt. The man proceeded to take off his mask, revealing a disappointed middle-aged man that Dewly seemed to recognize. "Oh.." he said upon realization of being busted by the staff once again.

"This is your last warning, Dewly. Now get out of the establishment!" he said while angrily pointing towards the door. The man placed his mask on once again, and stood back behind the prize counter. Dewly began his embarrassing exit with Jack following behind. Turning back to look upon Allope, Jack waved goodbye and wished to see Allope at Cliff's sometime again. Before she knew it, Allope's brand new friends were gone, last seen riding on their bikes with front lights past the door.

"Allope!" exclaimed Freddie in a dreadful panic, and Rebecca followed closely behind, "Did you scream?! What happened?"

Allope, exhausted in the typical droopy-eyed little kid fashion, stood in disappointment as she stared a hole through the doors. "Ah... What? No- I'm sorry, just- A kid almost passed out, and then another got stuck in a machine- and I just-"

Freddie placed his hand on her little shoulder, and looked proudly into her eyes, "You panicked, that's perfectly fine. You did good. But it's all taken care of then?"

The night's excitement was over, nothing held as much importance as it did a few hours ago. "Yeah. They're fine," She said in a monotone voice, "Uhm. Do you mind if we go home now?" She fell onto Fred's shoulder, as if she couldn't stand the arcade and its excitement any longer.

"Of course. I think it's about that time anyway." Freddie picked up Allope and headed out, with Rebecca following shortly behind, but not before claiming needing to  'fixing something' up before they went back home. The trip back went smoothly this time; however, Allope still found it hard to rest with how uncomfortable sitting in the middle compartment was. She couldn't remember much that happened the whole ride back, or at least until she was carried inside her house by Freddie. It was agreed that Rebecca and Freddie would deal with the object to Fred and Allope's parents in the morning, as it was much too late to explain it now. To his assumption, his parents were fast asleep already. Oddly enough, the lights and TV in the front of the house were left on; perhaps prepared beforehand for the kids to veg out once they came home. Freddie liked the channel it was left on, finding interest in the cool-looking music videos and graphics. Setting a sleepy Allope down on the couch, Freddie planned to catch up on the latest after he got ready for bed. Freddie sat down next to Allope in his oversized shirt and shorts, and invited Rebecca to join him.

"No thank you! I appreciate the offer n' all, but I don't think I'm ready to do that just yet, you know?" she replied fairly quickly. Though she despised discussing it, Rebecca Ashley Silverman found no interest in television or radio since the strange incident that caused her to lose her parents. Those with one glance of the situation would assume it was a for of self-sabotage or a sudden attack, for two people to just suddenly fester into a gruesome sight while watching television; but Rebecca always felt as if she knew better. Their compulsion became bigger and bigger each day; up to the point of forgetting to provide food for her or even taking her to school. The pure thought of this random occurrence happening once again filled Rebecca with a selective dread from head to toe, so she avoided the television completely. Years later, she had given up on attempting to convince Fred or his parents to be careful, and remained somewhat quiet about it. Forever still, she could not distance herself from the household enough to vanquish the fear of being alone.

Allope fell into a deep sleep and woke up naturally in the middle of the night with the lights dim, but the television still running. To her right was Freddie, who fell asleep while watching his usual programs. She was wide awake now, wasting time watching the strange shapes on the TV pass by, as she waited patiently for sleep to come upon her once more.

Even thinking about sleep was not an option from time-to-time, however, whenever the program was interrupted by the most bizarre sight the little girl had ever seen. Staring straight at her was a boxy-looking man wearing a suit and sunglasses, who appeared to be very uncanny. Behind the man was a backdrop of lines that would constantly shift and distort. He looked real sometimes, but not really. She didn't know how, but the lighting was off and made it seem almost like a clay sculpture or computer of some kind. His animation bugged at specific parts, yet she could easily tell what he was saying just like any other person.

"No-no-no-no-no-no-no-I'm not saying television c-created society, I'm just saying things just got a little more interesti ng one-once man decided to put down his spears and clubs just to change the channel and watch a  little Johnny Carson instead-instead... [hah]"

It took a few hours for Allope to finally get some rest by this point. Eventually she did resume her good night's rest, but was frequently disturbed by bizarre dreams and vivid thoughts of Ken doll-like men with shapeless teeth accompanied with twisted latex cartoon animals needlessly watching and laughing maniacally at her.

[darkpoisonouslove]

Imitation Play

Summary: An unexpected development during a mission dictates that Griffin and Valtor have to go undercover as a couple. Griffin is concerned about making it out in one piece when faking it has become too easy.

You'll never guess that this fic is yet another victim of the worlduilding and/or plot syndrome that I'm constantly suffering from when you see all the worldbuilding and feels. It's definitely obvious that I was going for smut all the way and that I stuck super closely to the plan for once.

Griffin hugged Valtor’s arm tighter and hunched her shoulders to make herself less a separate person and more an extension of his body. A certain air of wariness clung to everyone they passed by but she was walking a fine line. Having her eyes darting all over the place and checking her surroundings for potential threats and possible escape routes wouldn’t mesh with her cover as Valtor’s equally rich wife. Neither would wide-eyed awe at the sheer size and splendor of the hotel.

Her childhood home was smaller than the lobby that was all decked out in different nuances of blue melding together to create the impression of waves. The walls were a grand mosaic of sea shells, colored flat stones and pearls. The interior was rich and perfectly designed to reflect the harmony between the ocean and land kingdoms of Andros. Just the tiles she was walking on cost more than any shoes she could create even with her particle manipulation.

She had no hope of pulling off the slightly bored look a woman of her cover’s stature would have developed towards places with all the elegance and sophistication of their chosen hotel. Not after all the balls they’d crashed as a couple, Valtor’s gaze only leaving her when his power conquered the very air, made it tremble and sizzle, curl around her to cloak her and claim possession of her as well. His hands on her waist, the traces of his body heat left by the brush of his fingers against hers were more convincing than any diamond ring or wedding band could be.

The memories sparkled in every cell of her body, coming alive in an assault to her senses with the trembling fury of her leashed magic. Confined to the insides of her mind, it pried loose the smoldering yearning to sink her nails into his magic rather than the fine silk of his sleeve, the impact rattling in her very core, in the marrow of her bones. Her only hope was to find herself another reason for her racing heartbeat.

She focused on playing a horny newlywed that had all the money in the world to throw around and make others close their eyes to her inappropriate behavior, brush it off as cute or just the exuberance of youth.

Valtor’s potent smugness enveloping every inch of her was the perfect substitute for his magic seeping through the pores of her skin, over her taste buds, inside her teeth. The playful smirk curling the corner of her mouth didn’t go unnoticed by him and he grinned tenfold in response.

Griffin bit her lip, only half carried by the pretense.

They were met at the reception by an eerily cheerful clerk asking for their reservations. Valtor quickly explained their awful situation of getting stranded in the city that was was crawling with security guards on high alert. Griffin huffed along like the spoiled brat she imagined her cover would be about the nightmare that shopping had become with all the check-ups for shapeshifting spells and forged documents and they were soon handing over their fake IDs to get registered in the system.

She’d had to alter their photos with magic to match their makeover. Not nearly as hard a task as Valtor’s.

He was the one manipulating their appearance in everyone’s eyes. The only way to keep the power surge of a glamor spell undetected by the magic-tracing devices that had been turned on all over the capital was a separate illusion cast on every single person or camera looking their way. Using as little magic as possible, he had to stick close to their real appearance.

Just a little touch to her face to enlarge her eyes and reshape her lips. Her irises would be amber-colored instead of golden if anyone bothered to look and her hair had become the marine blue color inherent to the distinct Androsian mermaid gene. For years it was being sold on the dry land as a cheap hair dye that created an exact and just as cheap imitation for anyone with legs instead of a tail. It was dirt-common in the Androsian capital and often spilled over the crowds of tourists as well. Her dress was the finest yellow silk she’d been able to conjure on a tight schedule and her shoes carried dozens of gems – each threatening to fall off under its own enormous weight with her every step.

Valtor had softened his razor-sharp cheekbones and taken away from his chin to make it rounder. His hair was a pale brown that looked blond in the right light and his eyes had turned a much deeper blue than their usual cutting ice shade. It was visible even through the darkened brown of his sunglasses. His suit was slightly untypical for the heart of all oceans but looked just out-of-place enough to get him brushed off as a peacocking rich guy with zero sense of practicality. The gold watch on his wrist was the second most attention-grabbing thing about him – right after her.

Griffin held her breath as their IDs were put through the scanner. She’d used her powers for more delicate purposes than touching up photos but the forged computer chips inside the IDs were sensitive to magic. She’d only managed so much alterations to her own photo and Valtor had been the one adapting his spell to the mediocre results she’d given.

She let her head fall on Valtor’s shoulder contentedly while he was being handed the IDs and the keys to their room. The wisps of magic curling and shivering around him in a barely perceptible aura lured her closer. Like a flower caressed by sunlight. The energy was so vibrant, the touch to it sending exhilaration rushing to her toes and fingertips, that it had a pulse of its own. No device could trace its source back to him when it was practically its own separate entity.

Breathing it in left her struggling to suppress the smile blooming on her face. It wouldn’t do to get too comfortable before they were out of sight.

In the elevator Valtor’s grin bounced back at her from the reflective surfaces of the walls.

“Very convincing, my dear,” he made a show of bringing her hand to his mouth and placing a kiss on it.

Griffin’s breath hitched. More from the touch of his fingers now that his gloves were nowhere to be seen rather than from the exaggerated kiss. It had become a familiar routine by now. He had a pattern of acting all gallant and gentlemanly in an attempt to provoke or at least rattle her.

“If all we’ve worked for depends on the performance of my wifely duties, of course I’d give it my everything,” Griffin bit back, mindful of giving anything away.

The elevator could be wired with bugs if not cameras and magic detectors.

“Does being married to me really require so much effort, love?” Valtor pouted theatrically, the effect echoing in her ribcage like he’d forgone the prop and used a real gun instead.

“It does require effort like any role,” Griffin held his gaze.

You had to know how to become your persona, then how to go back to being yourself. And most important of all – you had to know where the line separating the two lay.

Stepping out of the elevator revealed more shades of blue. If Griffin focused enough, she could name them all despite their high number. A strategy that hadn’t come to her back in the lobby when she’d been wrapped around Valtor like a snake.

She only let go of him after he unlocked their room and stepped aside to let her in. The door closing behind her and the magic flooding from Valtor shed a sigh of relief from her. The room was now in his control and any and all devices that could blow their cover were silenced. She could see herself looking at the mirror and she was free to plop down on the bed and sleep into the morning when they’d have to leave.

She locked herself in the bathroom instead. The bathtub could pass for a small pool. She added three different kinds of bath salts and soaked in it until the only thing she could feel under her skin was the water making her fingers pruney.

She’d only need intent and a fraction of her power to erase every trace of the bath on her body. If only she could say the same about the day’s failure lingering on her mind.

They’d made it out with the liquefying spell Belladonna wanted to adapt for her own powers only thanks to Valtor. She’d held back tons of water, guarding the incantation, and turned them into oxygen in an ironic twist but it’d meant nothing in the face of a single guard. The auditory illusion Valtor had used to send the other guards on a wild goose chase had saved her skin.

She could drown herself and all the water straining her lungs wouldn’t be sufficiently forceful to oust the memories out of her mind. The tension in Valtor’s shoulders and his scowl had melted away as soon as his magic had turned her into his beloved air-headed wife, the glint in his eyes jealously possessive yet adding further depth to his cool gaze. His touch had been bold but not invasive, almost gentle, the even pattern of his breathing soothing. His steps had been tailored to hers so that he wouldn’t be dragging her forward by the arm but still carry him in the lead – like a shield from any danger they might have been walking into. Like he trusted her to have his back the same way he’d had hers.

She had no doubt how good he was in a role but she was equally good at not falling for any play of his. Yet, her head fell back against the tub in search of the comfort of his shoulder all the same.

With a snap of her fingers she could conjure a book or a chessboard to occupy herself. The last remaining drops of her magic were all she needed, cocooned in the protection of his as she was. As always, he wasn’t her only option, just the best one by a far cry.

Griffin emerged from the bathroom in a comfortable pajamas of emerald satin. The cleavage was a little too generous and the shorts were a touch too skimpy even in the humid heat of Andros’ capital. Just enough to ensure she wouldn’t be alone in her distraction.

Valtor had a leg up on her. He’d ordered room service to keep up appearances. The scent of her favorite lavender tea was wafting in the air from a lone tea cup next to his wine glass. He knew how to tempt her wound-up mind into the relaxation evading even her body tonight.

He didn’t move a muscle, yet she somehow ended up all but snuggled up in his side with vast expanses of couch stretching past her form. It was a shame not to make use of the soft leather hugging her body like a fluffy cloud and inviting her to trust it with her exhaustion, make herself comfortable and lay her head in Valtor’s lap.

“How many people do you suppose had to scramble to compensate for the stir that our success caused?” Valtor purred low in his throat.

The sound reverberated all the way from his ribcage into her own. It dripped into the magic soaking the air causing ripples of it to flutter into her lower belly. They traveled further down her thighs that squeezed together instinctively and over her calves. Almost as if he’d pressed his fingers there to massage away the strain of the day.

Griffin used her magic to summon the tea cup to her hand and drowned the curses on the tip of her tongue in the hot drink.

“Come on, Griffin,” Valtor brushed aside a strand of her hair, opening up her face to him more. Instead of letting go, he wrapped the purple around his finger, the delicate tug on it parting her lips. “We accomplished the mission, we pulled off our cover and we get some leisure time. Let yourself savor this.”

Griffin magicked the tea cup back on the table. “You did most of the work. You should follow your own advice.”

“I am. There’s plenty to savor right here.” Valtor lifted his wine glass to his lips, his eyes never leaving hers over the rim.

“Right here?” Griffin snatched the glass from his fingers, Valtor’s grip failing him at the contact of their fingers.

The feigned glare he gave her morphed into an intense stare lingering on her lips and spreading a feather-light tingle in the back of her mind.

Griffin basked in it, the magic shivering in her fingertips nearly oozing through the glass to sweeten the wine inside. “You plan on spending the night on the couch?”

“Are you asking me to bed, Griffin?” the faux scandalized note in his voice would have urged her to punch him in the face if not for his fingers still in her hair.

He was weaving them through her tresses now in subtle strokes to her vocal chords. Her chest rose slowly with the heaviness of all the little whines and moans building in there. She had to wash them back down her throat with the wine.

The rich fruity notes caressing her senses were tinting his breath as well. It had to lessen her craving for a taste of it but her mind was stuck on inhaling the scent on his tongue and feeling the softness of his lips against hers instead of just the memory of them imprinted on the cool glass.

“What is there to enjoy about a cold, lonely bed?”

The ice of his irises was burning against her skin where the words made her throat move. His teeth were tucked away and his claws in her hair weren’t reaching far enough to sink into her. He had his attention trained on her every move instead, the magnitude of it sweltering – the perfect excuse for her state of undress.

“If you’re so insistent on me savoring this detour, help me,” Griffin raised the glass again but Valtor’s hot breath reached her lips first.

He leaned in, face so close to hers that her gaze couldn’t focus on him. She couldn't watch for a hint at his next move, only feel the brush of his chest against hers with every inhale. The pressure of his proximity was unbearable on her lips, that last ounce of space between them hard like a diamond when it should have been scorched by the heat of his skin.

The slightest tilt of his head sent his hair tingling over her cleavage before trailing a blazing line over her nerve-endings when he leaned in to whisper in her ear. “A way to make this trip a true success, indeed, but I like to stay committed.”

His retreating warmth was more of a shock than his fingers descending on hers just to pry the wine glass from her. His magic had the tea cup float over to fill the emptiness in her hand and outline the stark contrast between her surrender to distraction and his unwavering concentration on the scheme at play.

She nodded to shake off the haunting sensations of his closeness. “Best not to push our luck with our married act when we have magic to keep us safe.”

Keeping up appearances was of no consequence if they had insurance no one would be around to see. It was only a shame to waste the perfect opportunity that the single–but ludicrously spacious–bed provided.

The tea cup flashing out of existence between her fingers startled Griffin. Her gaze snapped to Valtor only to find him leaning closer, eyes boring into hers with a demand for her attention.

“I like to stay committed to you.” His palm on her knee drew a gasp from her that didn’t go unnoticed, his gaze openly skirting her cleavage. His hand inched up, the hunger growing sharper both in the curve of his lips and in her lower belly. “Especially when you’re trembling from pleasure.”

“I’m not-”

The pull on her hair cut off her words with a shiver running down her spine. His magic stirred with her motion and coiled around her, enveloping, swallowing her. It threaded itself into the oxygen she inhaled and into the light spilling from the chandelier.

The distorted glow shrouded his features in subtle shadows swallowing all the warmth from his face. The lines left behind were clinical, carved by careful calculation that was freezing to the touch.

His fingerprints on her knee was smarting in contrast. The heated pressure easing unexpectedly left her shuddering only for his hand to take purchase on her hip, the emerald fabric underneath wriggling as if it would wither at the edges any moment now. His fingers grasped her chin to keep her in place as if self-preservation could override him and possess her instead.

“I should be displeased with you. Aiming for this at the cost of the mission is one thing, but constructing the situation so poorly that I have to waste my magic and this perfect setup instead of making you scream,” the words morphed into a growl so deep it seemed to come from another time period altogether, “is another.”

Griffin grabbed his wrist, nails digging into it to etch her existence there lest he devoured her without a trace left. “I didn’t plan any of this.”

“Oh, Griffin,” Valtor chuckled, an edge of condescension to his voice that never pierced her skin.

He drew her body closer into him, her legs swung over his lap. If he let go of her waist, she’d fall back on the couch.

She had to release his wrist. Her fingers dug into his vest desperately to keep her fragile balance. She forced herself to swallow the heart in her throat at the look of his pupils – blown so wide there was hardly any of the ice left in his gaze.

He ran his knuckles over her cheek, the contact prickling like a live wire that left her skin shimmering with her power. “Magic is emotion. Your magic. That failed where it has succeeded a hundred times before.”

A stream of warmth dripped from his fingers down her cheek, her neck–her pulse point–and her cleavage. His magic ran through her like a river, the air trembling around him as if he were the sun. Her skin rose in goosebumps begging for his touch to smooth them over. Her scalp was already tingling in anticipation his hands returning in her hair.

His next caress was a certainty in her mind, in her body. Her nipples were hard, straining against the fabric of her top with every motion rocking their chests like they were joined in one. She was already wet for the strokes of his fingers, for them to slip under the satin of her shorts. Or better yet, for him to burn them out of existence, cinders dripping on the floor like blood, and dip freely into her arousal the way his magic resonated into her very core like the hum of an avalanche.

“And what of your magic?” Griffin hissed through the cloying waves of it in the air.

Her hand was quick down his front and to the bulge in his pants despite the liquid fire on her tongue. She cupped him through the fabric groping greedily at the taste of his growing hunger. He wouldn’t let go of her just to stop her which left him only with his magic.

“Is it just an excuse to frustrate me? Or are you really letting it be an obstacle between us?” Squeezing his erection had him bucking into her and they keeled over under his momentum.

Griffin landed in a heap of her own hair, Valtor’s lips pressed into her neck, his cock – into her thigh. She had to wet her lips to lure her voice out of her parched throat.

“Valtor, greatest wizard in the known universe, failed by his own lacking control of his magic.”

Her hands were pinned by her sides before she’d even finished, her hips held down by Valtor’s weight when he straddled her.

He leaned over her like a storm cloud, his eyes throwing sparks. “Next time you say my name, your voice will be more sacrilegious than the darkest of spells with all the lust dripping from it.”

His arm brushed her ribs. No, not his arm. The teasing pressure continued down her side, only so much of it that the satin moved against her skin in a feather-light caress leaving her tingling from head to toe.

She flexed her wrists, testing her mind as well as the strength of his grip.

His gaze pinned her into the soft cushions, his touch searing into her wrists, binding her to him like no magic could. Turning to water wouldn’t let her slip between his fingers. The fire on his breath would turn her to vapor and he’d draw her inside his lungs to keep her there forever. He was clinging to her like her own shadow, the formless darkness of him tracing along every curve and filling out the spaces between her lips, her breasts, her thighs, even where light was supposed to obliterate it.

Griffin choked back the whine at the stroke to her bare knee, sharp like nails dancing up her inner thigh. Squeezing her legs together was an impulse but they hardly moved against the rippling current between them. The air was thick and flowing like a river around her skin, little rivulets streaming across her calves and thighs to highlight the arousal dripping from her.

It burned in her mind like a shooting star soaring through the sky to claim all of it with the trail of stardust it was leaving behind. A trail he found and followed, a caress dipping under the pool of emerald fabric weighing heavy on her heated skin.

There was nothing between their hips–not a movement pressing him into her or any space at all–except for the touch flitting over her naked skin, stirring along the wetness of her desire but only skirting along its edges and refusing to dive in. It was her who was drowning in her own want and Valtor’s, too, his erection poking her the same as the broken reality gnawing at her mind like she was a thing to be devoured slowly. Savored.

Griffin’s nails carved into her palms, her blood rushing to the angry-red crescents with the excited beat of her heart. If she dug deep enough, she could reach that place in her chest where Valtor had grown roots, running along the rest of her body just like her veins. It was moonshine that that flowerless garden thrived on, only the longing, the yearning lodged between her lungs like a second heart feeding his existence within her body. He was a shadow spilling over the rest of her insides, gathering in the hollow of her throat and behind her eyes, slithering between her thighs and her fingers the moment his fire wasn’t around to light up her eyes and warm her lips.

Out of that shadow, that darkness, she had only ever crafted a cover – something to hide behind, to cloak herself with and cocoon her heart. She’d kept it safe and silenced, suffocated in its own pulpy mess with chunks of her feelings still lodged between her teeth where they’d shredded in their desperate bid at escape. She’d torn pieces of herself, bled on the inside and the darkness had only grown thicker with the blood tribute she’d paid it. She’d taken everything from herself when what she wanted to take was him.

His coat vanished, melting off his frame to reveal just another layer of fabric underneath. Stripping him bare–and herself, too–to save the heat of his skin, wasted on his clothes, only for herself had its allure but she only needed one thing. Just a glimpse of what she’d turned into with him on top of her, claiming every inch of her being and still hardly touching her.

What had been maroon fabric morphed into a mirror hovering in the air above. The reflection of them could have been a tapestry. The tragedy of two lovers suspended in color and thread to never feel the satisfaction of a single stroke, never feel emotion flow from one of them into the other. Only the agonizing weight of the still touch between them, an anchor of the other’s statuesque presence – cold and hard against them.

He was hard. Hard and burning against her body, his eyes catching fire from the confession he read in hers, his fingers plunged deep into the telltale magic spilling from every pore of her skin. His lips fell open to drink her in, gulp down every tremble of the air from the power pulsing off her body. His leg parted her thighs further to give him better access and her – a better view.

Her eyelids imitated her hips, falling down on her world as she descended on his leg, grinding on it for that sweet, sweet friction. It was heady like a rush of sugar she could choke on but her lungs worked on instinct just like the rest of her body.

Her wrists flexed in his grip but he held her down again in contrast with his hips letting her move almost freely against him, hump his leg to satisfaction. His own satisfaction.

It was thick in the air, wrapping around her throat like it was his fingers and dripping down her cleavage. It was weighing on her eyelids but she pushed through it to see. An incarnation of his magic.

The shadows. The shadows his body cast over her writhed like they were alive and breathing. Those were the fingerprints on her breasts, the bite in her thighs, the caress over her wet folds. Even the bright lights couldn't obliterate the claim he had on her body, the illusion he was weaving for her that was more tangible than the very air in her lungs.

Softness pressed into her lips. His breath was hot and heady, palpable against her flesh. A kiss. At least the whisper of one. And then another. They streamed in a line down her chin and the column of her throat, her pulse point. Her heart would leap out and free fall into the open air with nothing to meet it.

A flick of his tongue rippled over her neck along with a shadow tendril flicking her clit to make her keen.

Her voice was strangled in breathlessness but her magic filled up his name, shaped it when her body failed, “Valtor.”

It was a whisper, yet not a sound. A presence looming over them with the threat to crush her where she was already under Valtor. It was her essence. Her essence she’d manifested through her magic to leave herself an empty shell. The very rustle of clothes could shatter her, grind her to dust that would scatter and haunt the universe forever.

Valtor’s loud gasp brought her back. Her essence was sucked behind his teeth and his own was deep within her where his magic settled every time it moved through her, calling to every fiber of her being with more demand than her very name.

A pulse of it stung with its harshness against her skin. It was a tidal wave that left her lungs heaving. She would spit if not for the fear of expelling the rest of her own powers for good.

The warm heaviness against her hip retreated, pulling her up like a noose around her neck. Valtor’s gaze was ice for the bruises in her soft flesh.

“Look up,” was all he offered but it was enough.

The mirror she’d conjured was gone. Her mindless magic show had almost dropped it on their heads with only his concentration catching the threat.

A pang started between her ribs. It grew so fast that it was already like a white-hot iron stuck in her rib cage by the time she had a grip on her breathing again. The warm imprints of his fingers were already fading at her wrists like they’d only ever been in her imagination but the fantasy had been real. So real yet it had surrendered to reality, to his focus on what was happening outside the sanctity of her body.

She startled at the sharp sting in her neck. The warm lips around the pain brought her body back down into his embrace. Her eyes rolled in the back of her head and she went limp in his arms. His teeth were deep in her throat but over her mind they left barely a graze. She needed him to etch himself there, bite enough out of it to make space for himself and then lie there for eternity.

Her fingers dug into his shirt sleeves to maintain equilibrium once he let go of her.

“When my magic can’t fail me,” Valtor swore, the words burning the air out of her lungs. “Do you think you’ll be able to restore my coat by morning, wife?”

Griffin gulped but managed a nod.

The grin he gave her was all teeth but he kept them to himself. It was her own that were sinking in her lip to savor the pounding of her heart echoing in every vein in her body.

She’d lost the thread, the only way to find the line between the lie of calling him husband and his name lying heavy on her tongue.

There was no longer a role. She was his.

[sorcerous-caress]

Well, for starters my githzerai monk( named him Khal'ian) Was originally a githyanki youngling that was taken from a creche that was destroyed via a mindflayer attack. He was shortly founded by githzerai and taken to a monastery in Limbo.

He was seen as an experiment, think of The Society of Brilliance with the gith egg but with an already formed youngling.

To see how well Zerai doctrine could be adopted by a Yanki youth.

The Short Answer to that : Yes, they adopt very well.

The Long Answer to that : Yes, but not without consequences for the youth's mental health.

Limbo is Ever-Changing Chaos, a plane that is a bubbling soup of elements and energy. This plane never stays the same for any length of time and to survive, you must be constantly forcing your will over the chaotic forces that make up this plane.

Being brought to this plane would be very jarring on its own as a youth being born and raised within the Material Plane.

To make the situation worse, is that you just bore witness to the worst enemy your people as taught you to hate, clear out your entire home. Then get taken in by the second worst enemy you've been taught to hate, after they pick through the rubble.

A Very Volatile experience that would cause a whole wave of emotions. However, by the very nature of the plane you find yourself in you can't emote the way you need, especially if you're hurting.

In Limbo sadness/pain, confusion and uncertainty can cause solid structures to evaporate or to liquify or explode into raw chaos and drown the individual.

To add even more on to the situation, you are surrounded by people, that at best see you as a odd little guinea pig and at worst a future savage slaver among them.

You adapt to Limbo, learn to enforce your will upon it to exist safely. But you grow up feeling disconnected from your emotions and sensations.

So when my githzerai monk(Khal'ian) finally found themselves on the Material Plane again, being able to safely emote again without constant willpower use.

He seeks out comfort from people he can trust to care(Jaheira) or strict enough to stop him from overwhelming himself(Minthara).

He finds the relinquishing of control very soothing.

But that's enough of my rambling, I'm going to go back to writing Minthara & Jaheira railing him in the woods 🪵. If you want more rambling let me know or I'll stick to smut.

Gith make me feel things.

-Githzerai anon

That's a lot of thought and dedication you've put into him anon, it's impressive.

Especially the emotion controlling concept, having to weild your emotions like a sword and a shield from the chaos in limbo that'd swallow you otherwise. Forcing yourself to feel certain feelings and never let them fester naturally.

Actually he even fits in a durge run very well. In bg1 the player, the bhaalspawn, also comes from a very guarded and isolated city of monks. They barely express their emotions and just close off the outside world.

Also, I remember reading something about how githzerai attempted to replicate the bonds githyanki have with red dragons, by using chaos dragons instead. That went as good as you'd expect from a chaos dragon.

But some of them have managed.

Now I'm not saying to use the red and chaos dragons bonds as symbolism for his different bonds with Minthara and Jaheira but- that is exactly what I'm saying.

Because he is both a githyanki and githzerai. It's almost too perfect to pass on.

Also, when the companions eventually go into the gith creche and he is met with an actual caretaker, how do you think his reaction would be? How would Jaheira's be.

[leggywillow]

I’m not one for high school AUs, but I have to admit they do often translate in a fun way depending on the general angst and turmoil of the source material.

Anyway I had some random thoughts about Dragon Age 2 high school AU that would not leave me in peace so here they are:

Varric does not do the school paper. Somehow he has a regular guest column in the actual town newspaper. The school paper editor hates him so much.

Carver and Hawke are both on the (American) football team.

Hawke is the quarterback, and since female quarterbacks are unusual, she’s always being interviewed by newspapers and morning talk shows

“She doesn’t even want to play football in college so why can’t she just find the hell something else to do” -Carver

Bethany is in every single academic honors society and everyone has known she’ll be valedictorian since middle school. She sweeps at the academic fair every year and does a ton of volunteer work outside of school. She is so nice to everyone that no one is really annoyed by the overachieving.

Merrill is the cute little goth girl who makes everyone’s parents nervous. She is surrounded by wild rumors: that she drinks blood, that she ate a cat once, that she burned down her parents’ house and that’s why she had to switch schools and live with her grandmother

Isabela is obsessed with cars. She has an incredibly nice and expensive foreign sports car that she maintains herself. Rumors abound about how she managed to afford it.

Isabela got caught stealing a car anyway and is still doing community service for it.

Sebastian is the guy whose personality is “youth group” but he’s hot enough to still be popular anyway

Fenris is a quiet, brooding emo boy who just moved here and doesn’t talk to anyone. He never takes off his headphones. Despite this, half the school is in love with him.

Anders used to be a fun party boy but he completely changed over the summer and no one knows why.

Anders is always sending leftist opinion pieces to the city newspaper. Every now and again one will mysteriously make it to final print. Varric swears innocence.

Anders does community service alongside Isabela because he was arrested at a protest. As soon as he’s done with community service for one, he ends up arrested at another protest and the cycle continues until someone in authority gets sick of it

Aveline is in JROTC and takes it very seriously. She’s also on the color guard.

Anders is constantly in detention for calling the school resource officer a pig

When Carver was crushing hard on Merrill, his football bros told him not to because she’s too creepy but he says “counterpoint: maybe I can touch her boobs” and they’re forced to concede.

Aveline and Anders have been in a fistfight because Anders called her a narc. Aveline won the fight.

[lingering-nomad]

Name: Gabril Oromanche

Background: Sage

Race: Human

Age: 52 (1492 DR)

Alignment: Neutral Good (Pragmatic Kind)

Class: Druid (Circle of the Land)/Cleric (Life Domain)

Affiliations: Circle of Mosstone, Canflekeep scholar, Temple of Lethander

Deity: Lathander

Birthplace: Mosstone, Tethyr

Former Home: Candlekeep Fortress

Laid To Rest: Elturel, Avernus

Status: Deceased

Backstory:

To understand, Gabril it is neccessary to understand the unusual community that shaped his values in his youth.

He was born into a merchant family in Tethyr who resides in a village called Mosstone, a walled caravan-stop town on the Trade Way near the Wealdath forest. A powerful circle of druids offer protection to merchants, travelers and villagers alike, provided the forest and surrounding lands are not intruded upon.

Mosstone is known for its unlikely communal culture and egalitarian governance.

The town is self-governing, beholden to no lord or ruler. The residents and druids reach decisions through consensus. The community of Mosstone values balance and peace, respecting the forest that surrounds the town and maintaining relations with the elvish city of Suldanessellar deep within the ancient Wealdath.

The Archdruid of Mosstone is one of the five emissaries to the crown of Tethyr, representing interests of Mosstone residents, druids, and their elven allies in the governance matters.

Most public tasks, like wall repair, road maintenance and well upkeep, are voluntarily done by the town's skilled craftsmen who are rewarded by the community with heartfelt thanks and an exchange of goods and services. The residents are generally kind to each other, pooling resources, and watching out for their neighbors, which is almost unheard of in many places across Faerûn, particularly commerce-driven communities. Apart from the townsfolk and members of Mosstone's druidic circle, the town was the base of operations for an independent mercenary guild, acting as caravan guards and scouts. These individuals were typically rangers, but the guild also employed chroniclers and the odd wizard or alchemist.

The Oromanche trading family is among the town's most established and prominent residents. Members of the Oromanche clan are considered flamboyant and even ostentatious compared to the somewhat rustic atmosphere of the village, but as the family's matriarch, Maerele, is fond of saying: she and her kin represent the spice in hearty meal. The clan is known for their dark, stunningly good looks, and are constantly the subject or romantic gossip and speculation.

Maerele maintains friendships with nobility and scholars from across the realms and it was under her influence, that her youngest brother, Gabril's penchant for learning was not only encouraged, but indulged.

As the youngest child of a large family (Maerele, his eldest sister, is 19 years older) he wasn't expected to be as involved in the family's trading activities as his siblings, which allowed him the freedom to spend much of his time among the druids, learning the ways of nature and the magics of life itself.

As a youth, Gabril's interest in herbology and healing magic saw him recruited to Candlekeep (following several impassioned letters from his sister and a recommendation from the Mosstone Circle's arch druid) to study medicinal alchemy. He remained at Candlekeep for 12 years, rising to the ranks of instructor. His curiosity, love for nature and interest in healing kindled his interest in the divine and the healing abilities of clerics, particularly as offered by the Church of Lathander.

At age 32, Gabril undertook a pilgrimage to Elturel with a group of clerics he'd befriended to view the miracle of the Companion - the great gift of Amaunator (an aspect of Lathander) that saved the city from a necromantic assault and was considered proof of the god's benevolence. Fascinated and entranced by both the tale and the sight of the Companion, Gabril extended his stay as a guest of the Church until it became indefinite as he took vows and was inducted as a Dawnbringer himself.

Even in his role as a cleric, he remained scholarly and cooperative in approach, spending much of his time in nature to gather potions ingredients, accompanied by his familiar, a sparrow called Mote, and generally abstaining from involvement in the more political aspects of religious life.

His relationship with Trislen Esharr, a young paladin of Amaunator from Cormyr, kindled shortly after his arrival and subsisted until Gabril's death during Elturel's cataclysmic descent into Avernus, 20 years later.

[greatgaiusjuliuscaesar]

WARNING: TRAGEDY; DEATHS; LONG POST

I’ve been told that dwelling on the past can cloud the present and prevent us from moving forward. But as much as I have embraced my life as it is now, I’ve also learned that there are shadows one cannot entirely leave behind. Today, I want to share the story of my youth, a tale of loss, betrayal, and survival—a story that shaped the man, and emperor, I am today.

I was born into a world of grandeur and power, surrounded by all the trappings of imperial life. But behind that luxury lay a turbulent and often brutal reality. My family, the Julio-Claudians, were tangled in a web of political intrigue, ambition, and constant danger. Our position was never secure. We lived in a palace filled with whispers, deception, and the chilling knowledge that betrayal was never far from reach. This was the world I entered, and this was the world that tested me from my earliest years.

My father, Germanicus, was a beloved general and a respected leader. The people of Rome adored him, and he inspired loyalty in a way few could. Yet this admiration was dangerous, for it bred jealousy among those who saw him as a threat to their power. I was only a child when he died under mysterious circumstances—poisoned, some whispered. I still remember the grief that weighed down our family, how it felt as if the very heart of our home had been torn out.

My mother, Agrippina, was a formidable woman, fiercely protective of her children. After my father’s death, she fought relentlessly to protect our family and keep his legacy alive. Yet in doing so, she angered powerful men who sought to silence her. Eventually, the very institution she had devoted herself to—the empire—turned against us. She was exiled, humiliated, and ultimately starved to death by those who had once called her their own. Watching my mother suffer like that is a wound that never truly heals; it leaves scars that run deeper than I could ever express.

In the years that followed, I lost my brothers too. Each was taken from me in a different, painful way, all in the name of power and control. My childhood became a parade of farewells, each one harder than the last. I was forced to mature quickly, to wear a mask of strength while my heart was shattered and raw. There was no choice but to endure and, in time, to learn how to survive.

As I grew older, I learned to navigate the complexities of Roman politics. When my grandfather Tiberius finally named me his successor, I felt as though I had survived the worst. But even as emperor, I found that the ghosts of my past never fully disappeared. Instead, they seemed to follow me, to haunt me in ways I could not escape. I came to realize that the legacy of my family, the betrayals and losses that had shaped my life, would forever linger in my heart.

Some people call me a tyrant, a madman, a ruler with a dark and twisted mind. Maybe there’s truth in some of those claims, but few know the cost I paid to get here. Few understand the pain of losing almost everyone you ever loved, the price of constantly fearing that your life, too, might be stolen in the night. Power is a double-edged sword; it protects, but it also isolates. It strengthens, but it also consumes.

So, why am I sharing this now? Perhaps because I want people to see beyond the mask, to understand that behind the title of emperor stands a man who has been broken and rebuilt, again and again. I want to honor the memory of my family, those who never had the chance to fulfill their own dreams or to defend themselves against the lies and schemes of others. And I hope that in doing so, I can finally find peace, even as the shadows of my past continue to linger.

In the end, I am who I am—a man shaped by a tragic history, a survivor of betrayal, a leader who has learned that kindness can be as powerful as vengeance, that loyalty is a treasure to be guarded. To those who wonder why I sometimes appear guarded, why I act with caution, or why I hold my friends so close, know this: I am simply a man who has learned what it means to lose everything.

[skadee17]

V- The prey and the hunter

After the events of this afternoon, I had decided to go rest and try to sleep a bit. I had been sleeping very poorly since we arrived here. In fact, I've always had trouble sleeping, whether at home with my parents or at college. I constantly battled insomnia. The upside was that now, having insomnia wasn't too bad when sleeping outdoors. I could be alert to things around us while keeping an eye on my family. But now, I felt a little safer here. I was slowly letting my guard down, I knew it, and I didn't like it. But for the moment, all I wished for was to sleep.

For heaven's sake, I wanted to sleep. We were surrounded by walls, barriers, we had a militia, so why couldn't I get some sleep? I guess the numerous nights hearing the roamers walking around us during our journey here had left their mark.

It made me stronger in a way, but I was exhausted from having to be on guard all the time, no matter the weather, place, or people...

I managed to fall asleep a bit after taking some sort of sleeping aid I found at the infirmary. I found them when I restocked and decided to keep them; I really needed them.

I woke up after hours of sleep, which had been somewhat restorative, but I still lacked so much that I settled for just having slept well for once. Night had fallen on the ranch. Alicia must still be in her meeting with the ranch youth, but no idea where my mother and Nick could be.

Finally, I got up, put on loose jeans and a jacket, and started roaming around the ranch in search of my family. I took the opportunity to look at the sky. When I was little, my father bought me a telescope to watch the stars and planets. He knew I loved it and could spend hours gazing at them no matter the time or weather. Rain or shine, hot or snow, I sat in front of my telescope gazing at the stars. As I grew up, I never lost the habit of looking at them. When my father died, this habit became my only solace. Looking at them, I saw memories with my father, tears in my eyes, I reminded him that I loved him and hoped that if he could hear me, he would be proud of me and know how much I miss him. Since I arrived here, I often wandered around the ranch, settling on a hill, back against a tree, with the stars as my company. That's what I did when I couldn't sleep. Sometimes I fell asleep there, confident, and woke up before others to return to the cottage. Before leaving, I thanked the stars for protecting me and allowing me to rest.

As I walked, I finally saw my mother; she was talking to Jeremiah. I continued on my way; their conversation didn't interest me at all, but I nodded and smiled at them when they saw me. A few minutes later, I stopped near a fence, watching what people were doing at this hour. It was pitch black, yet the ranch seemed as awake as it did during the day. Lost in my thoughts, I was interrupted by a car heading towards me and stopping:

"Do you fancy a ride?" Troy asked. 

"A ride?" I replied. 

"Or perhaps you prefer staying here doing nothing?" he observed.

I knew I probably shouldn't get into that car, especially with him. But strangely, tonight, I felt like getting out of the ranch and taking a breather. It had been more than a week since we arrived, and I hadn't set foot outside this place since then. I felt oppressed, so a little ride couldn't hurt, at least I hoped so. Finally emerging from my thoughts, Troy was still looking at me, waiting for a response. I eventually moved and walked around the vehicle to sit beside him. I rested my head against the window and saw his usual smirk, but I said nothing.

We drove a few meters, then arrived at the ranch gate. I noticed several vehicles waiting. I turned to Troy and asked:

"Where are we going? There are a lot of vehicles for a ride," I asked. 

"Oh yeah, I might have forgotten to tell you we're going hunting. A wild boar keeps damaging our fences, so we have to find and deal with it," he explained. 

"Are you kidding me, Troy? Hunting is a ride for you?" 

"Listen, it's okay. I thought you'd enjoy getting out of the ranch instead of spending your days at the infirmary," he said calmly. "You're annoying," I finished.

I laid my head back on the window, and Troy started the car and positioned himself between the other two vehicles. I sensed he was tense, his hands were tight on the wheel, and his body seemed tense. I didn't care, but right now, he was the first to take me outside and let me breathe a bit, and he seemed genuinely upset by my response.

"Thanks," I simply told him.

I saw him looking at me with a rather surprised look, but I didn't react. We continued driving until we reached the hunting spot.

Suddenly, the vehicle in front of us stopped. Troy did the same, got out of the vehicle, and signaled for me to join him.

"I don't like hunting. I'd rather stay in the car and wait for you guys," I said, stopping by his side. 

"No way, you're coming with us. I'm not leaving you alone here," he interrupted. 

"Troy..." I sighed. 

"End of discussion. Here, take this weapon and follow us," he finished.

I took the weapon he handed me and started walking. The tracking dogs were crazy, sniffing, running all over the place. I thought I was going for a walk, and here I was, on a hunt... A few minutes later, the group split up. I took a different path, strolling, hoping they would quickly finish playing with their dogs and the wild boar.

As I walked, I felt a strange sensation. It was dark, foggy, and I heard the dogs barking in the distance. I was alone in the middle of nowhere, hoping I hadn't gotten lost because it would literally be a mess. Suddenly, I heard a crack behind me. Someone was following me. A zombie? An animal? A hunter? I decided to hide in a bush, took my weapon, and waited to see who was following me. And there, I saw Troy, the jerk. Did he plan to kill me? He should know by now that you don't get rid of me that easily. I stood up slowly, then jumped on him, pinning him down, my loaded gun under his chin. Our breath echoed each other's, both of us breathless. Our gazes locked, I looked furious, but he seemed impassive.

"The ground is soft; you could bury me easily. Others would ask questions, but they'd have no evidence," he mocked. 

"I wonder how long it would take for you to turn?" I accused. 

"87 minutes, 87 minutes," he repeated, considering my weight and age."

I looked into his eyes; he didn't seem scared at all. He was the hunter, and I was the prey. I was determined to be the hunter.

"At least if you decide to kill me, you should time it...

" "You're not a scientist!" I spat

"A timer, Bella." 

"What's your problem?" I snapped. 

"Do it,"

Heart pounding, I tightened my grip on the trigger, intentionally firing next to Troy's ear, the bullet's breath grazing his skin. A clear warning without compromise. Troy held his breath, a rush of adrenaline mixed with a hint of excitement. He firmly grasped my arm, forcing me to lower the weapon.

"Do you really think I'm here to harm you?" he said firmly, trying to keep calm despite the palpable tension. 

"You're reckless, Troy. You took a risk following me," i retorted, pulling my arm to break free from his hold.

Our eyes met in a silent battle of wills. Anger and distrust burned between us, fueling a fire of emotions.

"I don't need protection, especially not from you," i spat, shaking his hand off. 

"I'm not here to protect you, Bella. I'm just... you should never let your guard down," admitted Troy, his tone becoming softer, almost hesitant. 

"Are you kidding me?" 

"I'm a hunter, Bella. I observe, I learn, that's all."

Our voices hung in the night air, silence creeping in between us as our breaths synced with the moonlight's glow.

I hadn't killed him, and he thought I would. Maybe I should have, but I wasn't God. I stepped away and began walking towards the cars. He might be a hunter, but I was by no means prey.

This hunt wasn't just for prey, but perhaps for a deeper understanding, a truth to uncover between two minds as wild as the nature surrounding them.

The journey back was marked by an uncomfortable silence, our strained relationship reflecting in every step we took towards refuge. The flickering lights of the ranch greeted our return, but the heavy atmosphere between us seemed to overshadow the mood. I avoided Troy's gaze; my mind was still boiling from the events of the hunt. Troy, on his side, seemed lost in his thoughts too, his expression revealing a mix of annoyance and deep contemplation.

We quickly parted ways upon arrival, each going in the opposite direction. The muffled whispers of other ranch members filled the air, but for the two of us, there was only the heavy silence that surrounded us.

[if-you-fan-a-fire]

“HUNGRY CONVICT CAPTURED IN BARN,” Montreal Star. August 5, 1930. Page 2. ---- Jules Legace Fails to Make, Good "Perfect Plans" For Escape ---- QUIET SURRENDER --- Guards From Penitentiary Take Prisoner After 75 Hour Search --- Still hungry after a three-day diet of raw vegetables pilfered from the gardens of farmers, but with his spirit still unbroken, Jules Legace, alias Joseph Bourgias, who escaped from St. Vincent de Paul Penitentiary on Friday, was raptured yesterday afternoon in a small barn at L'Abond-a-Ploutte, on the banks of the Riviere des Prairies, by Col. P. A. Piuze, warden of the penitentiary, and three guards before he had a chance to make his escape or even offer resistance.

The youthful desperado took his capture coolly and, shrugging his shoulders, informed the officers that it was lucky for them that they had captured him when they did for they would never have been able to catch him it he had succeeded in escaping their vigilance for a few more hours.

The capture of Legace who was sentenced to 12 strokes of the lash and 12 years in the penitentiary by Judge Gustave Marin on December 4 last for robbing the bank at St. Chrysostome of $2,500, brought to a close one of the most spectacular manhunts in the history of the penitentiary which involved the efforts of two thirds of the prison personnel.

MANY RUMORS. The tireless patience of Cut. Piuze and his men in running down every rumor was responsible for the young convict's capture. After many fruitless trips, information was received that Legace had been seen at L’Abord-a-Pouffe. Knowing that the man had relatives in the vicinity, all reports were closely checked. One of these was to the effect that Legace had been seen in the vicinity of a little barn a quarter of a mile west of L’Abord-a-Plouffe Church, opposite the Montee St. Martin Col. Piuze summoned three of his men and surrounded the building and, entering it from four different directions, gave the convict no chance whatever to escape or even offer resistance.

When found, Legace was clad in his undershirt, his penitentiary trousers and his gray peak cap. His outer shirt, as well as the linen members which were attached to the prince uniform, had been discarded by the convict and were found Saturday by the guards a quarter of a mile from the penitentiary.

Although disappointed when captured, Legace did not appear to be very discouraged. In fact he was somewhat boastful. “If you had not got me today," he said. "you would never have caught me. I had studied the most perfect way of getting away and my scheme would have foiled you. I would have reached Montreal tomorrow and you would never have heard from me." BARN WAS HOME Legace, it was discovered, had occupied the barn as his home for 36 hours and had subsisted on tomatoes and carrots taken from a nearby garden during the night.

Col. Piuze in speaking to The Star today, expressed his pleasure that the man had been captured alive and that the hunt was over. Two-thirds of the prison personnel of 130 men were on duty constantly for 75 hours searching for the escaped prisoner. There were 22 posts on the island and all bridges and ferries leading out of the island were closely watched by armed guards", the warden  said in explaining the difficulties of the search.

"We were fortunate in capturing our man," he continued, "but we desire to thank all residents who were as willing to co-operate in the pursuit, as well as the members of the municipal police, the provincial police and the Royal Canadian Mounted Police. Our guards who worked so hard also deserve my sincere thanks for their good work."

Col. Piuze also expressed his thanks for the way in which the majority of motorists whose cars were searched at the ferries and bridges complied with the requests of the guards. It was the cause of considerable trouble and delay, he knew, but it was the only way by which the guards could make aware that the convict was not attempting to leave the island.

Legace will be brought here tomorrow and will appear before a magistrate in answer to a charge of escaping from legal custody, the penalty for which is usually two years In addition all time gained on account of good behavior la automatically cancelled.

[thmagdalene]

Alice had not lost her mother when she had been young, but she had lost her father when she had been of an age to truly know what it was to miss someone so deeply from behind the muscle and blood of one’s body — to be without someone who may have otherwise planned something more forthcoming than a useless match to a Seymour (for her father, as wise as he had been, would probably have taken some merit and pride in his daughter’s intelligence rather than the stock of her beauty that seemed to grow useless with her climbing years). Holding her daughter to her chest, Alice made some small prayer for Catherine’s unending safety, to see her then matched with someone of security that could look after her and any children there after. After all, now a Seymour, Alice danced upon broken ground, the splits in the earth calling her forth in bellowing howls of the underground, her arms widening with each embrace made to capture her beloved ones; Arthur, Catherine, Bridget and her twin. By their shared bloodline, she would do anything to secure their places in the world.

With the weight of her daughter passed from her lap, Alice went to her unsigned letter, the blue azure of her gaze looking over the cursive made in proposition for Bridget’s hesitant future. She could not remain so stubbornly on stage for the whispers and gossip that had once made home in Alice’s own circles of company — the court itself was in no need for more scandal than the one that remained on the throne, its dangers leaking into the surrounding courtiers in the same way water escaped useless netting. With her disapproval, her eyes flickering between the youth of her daughter and the new maturity that embraced her niece, Alice went to fold her hands over her lap, listening with a tenderness as Catherine giggled in turn at Bridget’s most wonderful attention. “Indeed, but therein lies another lesson for you, dear Bridget. That the children of Boleyn are far from kind or gratuitous — the apple doesn't fall far from the tree, for Anne was never the sweetest pick from the branch,” she warned, then turned from Catherine as she watched Bridget, her niece a copy of what had once been her own way of life; restless, euphoric and constantly gluttonous for more than what her daily life could ever offer her. What she needed was a position, somewhere to learn how to guide such instantaneous emotions into working hands. Perhaps a role within the house would be just that, a learning tool to darn in the quieter hours of the midday sunshine.

Signing her name beneath the letter, Alice then went to join the next generation of her brood, a hand placed upon Bridget’s shoulder in a moment of intimacy less than often ever displayed against her pale hands. “Our ward, Fitzroy’s daughter, she does not respond to me but perhaps you may have some moment with her. You must have her on her guard, I fear that that family will look to destroy her for what runs through her blood,” Alice mused, gently teasing at Bridget’s hair in the way once down when she had been a girl, when she had been eager to proclaim her brother’s children as beloved — before, she too, had been blessed with her own. “And you must be careful, your father would have me banished if anything were to happen to you too.”

The arrival of her young cousin brought a genuine smile to Bridget's lips; it was impossible not to be charmed by the child, delicate as a flower and sweet as the first breath of spring. Alongside her daughter, her very own miniature, Alice looked her every bit the perfect mother. The sight of them occasionally sent a pang through Bridget's heavily guarded heart; would her mother have held and cherished her so had she lived to see her children grow? How different would the path of Bridget's life had been had she grown up with her own mother by her side, supporting her and her brother's every step? Would her father have been happier, less plagued by his children's every action, with his beloved wife by his side? There was little point in dwelling on such "what ifs" and Bridget liked to pretend that she did not do so, as such thoughts could be seen as weakness. Instead, Bridget crouched down to meet her cousin's gaze, skirts pooling in a puddle around her. "One can be lovely and loud, darling Cathy," she spoke with a teasing grin, fingers reaching to tickle the girl until her giggles echoed through the chamber, "if one tries hard enough."

Bridget watched her cousin settle with her toys for a moment, Alice's words drifting above her until she recommitted her attention to her aunt. Suppressing a sigh, she rose to her full height once more as her aunt continued. Alice was nothing if not wise, keenly aware of court's goings-on and how things were. Bridget was more interested in how things could be. She did, however, narrow her brows slightly at her aunt's description of the princess' life. "Well it seems rather cruel to inflict one's own pains on others, does it not?" she commented, over simplifying the situation and ignoring the fact that, had she been in Elizabeth's place, she likely would be doing the exact same thing. She knew Alice knew as much as well, and continued on before her aunt could point out the hypocrisy of the statement.

The mention of her grandfather always piqued her interest, as her aunts and father always seemed to turn the topic to him when matters of duty and family legacy arose. In a rare moment of solemnity, Bridget turned to face her father's sister once more. "I count myself very lucky to bear the Parr name, Aunt Alice. I know you doubt my motives and my choices, but I assure you, I wish nothing but good for our house and our future." The bulk of that pressure lay solely in her brother's lap as his line would carry on their family's name, but Bridget did not mistake her own responsibilities. Perhaps that was what she had been trying to run from her whole life, for fear of failing. "I will do as you say," she acquiesced, "though I cannot promise to be stoic throughout. What fun is there in that?" She offered her aunt a small half-smile to punctuate her humor, then demonstrated the thought by plopping down on the rug next to Catherine, who immediately placed a doll into Bridget's hand. "Catherine and I will entertain ourselves right here, won't we, cousin?"