#GAH… THE BELL TOLLS…

[zeebreezin]

Before leaving for the Neath, to find his daughter’s killer, August Shaw told only one person: his wife. His letter was poorly worded, rambling, and utterly incoherent. Before leaving to complete his Ambition, heading into Parabola on a quest he does not think he will return from, Shaw did not want to make the same mistake. The following messages were addressed to (In order): @neathyingenue ‘s Silvia Salcedo, @gmalaart ‘s Emon Cavendish, @elleryhart ‘s Ellery , @viric-dreams ‘s Robin Jones, @letheology ‘s Mina Azoulai, @capn-twitchery ‘s Twitch, and @t6fs, here addressed as Logan.

[You haven’t heard from Shaw in several days, any mail you sent has gone unanswered. A letter arrives out of nowhere, written in his curling handwriting. The script is messy, blotted with ink and wine.] “Dear Silvia, I apologise for the state of myself as I write this, though you must understand that this message is of the utmost importance. The time for half truths and polite obfuscation is past, between us. I will not insult you by dancing around the truth. When I first came to London, I came with only one purpose: to avenge the death of my daughter, Lenore, and to meet my own end in the process. Since then, well. I’ve found something quite worth remaining for. I set off now to end what I have started, and I may not return. For that I am so, so sorry. You have become… so much to me, Silvia. In all your endeavours, I wish you the best. Your talent and passion for what is right has inspired me, and I’m sure you have inspired many. I am proud to consider you family, a bond not forged by blood but by ink and will. I… I hope you will be well. No matter what happens. If I do not return, know that I am deeply proud of you. Your Friend, August Shaw.”

- x - x -

[The letter does not arrive on paper. It is scrawled across the cosmogone sky, familiar handwriting curling across the surface of parabola like a rock skipping across the surface of a lake.] “My Dearest Emon, it rends my heart to know that I cannot send you this letter. I dare not post it, knowing the reflection that takes your place.” [A few words are heavily scratched out.] “I have no idea if I will see you again, you as I know you, vibrant and sharp and maddeningly brilliant. I wish, more than anything, you were at my side. If I return from the journey I now set out to take, know that I will find you. My window of opportunity is brief, and I cannot linger, though I know how selfish it must seem. I set off now to defeat the ghosts that haunt me, to lay my daughter to rest. When I began, I thought that this would be my undoing, a death I welcomed. Now, though. I must succeed. I will find you again, Emon. These words will reach you - they must. I have to return. Wherever you may be, know that… I will find you, my love. Yours, Always, August Shaw.”

- x - x -

[A stained letter is delivered to you by an anonymous urchin. It’s dated to a few days after you left on your trip… the handwriting is familiar.] “Dear Ellery Hart, I hope this letter reaches you well. I’ve scheduled it to be delivered as soon as you return, as its contents are quite important to me. Once you receive this, I will have already departed on a journey. I dare not tell you where I go, or why, but know that-” [A section of text is scratched out.] “I may not return. In such a case, I… Where do I begin? You’ve come so far in the time I’ve known you, Ellery. In all senses, I’m deeply proud of the man you’ve grown into. Wherever your path takes you after this hunt, I know you will do well. If this is goodbye, then know that I count you both amongst my finest pupils, and amongst my dearest friends. Hunt well, Ellery. Your Friend, August Shaw.”

- x - x -

[The dead drop has remained quiet for a while now. The next missive you receive from the Black Rook isn’t encoded, or tucked away - it’s left in your mailbox, like any other letter.] “Dear Jones, I apologise for the unorthodox - or perhaps more accurately, deeply orthodox - method of communication. This message has nothing to do with our work, though I understand if you dispose of it as if it was. Simply put, I am… leaving London, for a time. This journey is not one I had expected to return from for a long time, but I know that I will be fighting to return to the city now. Should all go wrong, well, I know that we have not always seen eye to eye. I know that I may never truly win back your trust, something that would be well within your rights. But I could not leave in good conscience without saying goodbye. The letters we used to send, as Suzette and Jacques, they provided me a great deal of light during my darkest days. After everything I am, in truth, not sure what to call us. But whatever you are to me, Robin Jones, I hope I get to see you again, once all this is over. Play Well, August Shaw.”

- x - x -

[Shaw hasn’t been at the university for a while, now. A letter is slipped into your desk when you return to Benthic, tucked neatly into the top drawer. No cipher, plain script - this isn’t a game.] “Dear Mina, I hope the Khante has been treating you well. I’m unsure as to when you’ll be back, and a part of me hopes that this letter will be quickly corrected by my presence at your door, but nevertheless. I’m setting off on a mission, you could say, one of great personal significance. One I am unsure if I will return from. In the case I… do not return, I leave my network to you, Mina. Take this letter to Demirkan, he will know what to do. …We can do great things with this Game we play. We have done great things. I trust you to carry on that, if I cannot. You have been a great friend to me, and a most trusted confidant. I can only hope that I do not betray that trust now. Your Friend, August Shaw.”

- x - x -

[A letter from your former protege arrives, carried by bat. It’s uncommon enough that he’s writing to you, but the contents of the letter are stranger still.] “Dear Captain Lazaret, I must apologise for the suddenness of this letter. I hope it finds you well, and in a space where you can read it without fearing immediate retribution. Though I know we only occasionally brush paths these days, it seemed unwise to not inform you of my current state of affairs. Simply put, Captain, I’m going to be away from London for some time, and I am unsure if I will ever see home waters again. For all my gripes and bristles (and indeed, all the years I fear you’ve taken off my life) I could not have become the man I am today without your guidance. I know I may have seemed ungrateful, but… well, thank you for all you taught me. And for all the times we have spent together, many of which were at the worst lows of my time down below. You are vexing, and caustic, and I dare say my days in London would be a great deal duller without knowing you. Let none of my sarcasm lead to you forgetting this fact, Captain - as you are indeed someone I owe a great deal of happiness to. I hope to see you again. Your Friend, August Shaw.”

- x - x -

[Shaw’s not home, when you return to London, but tonight, six apocyan eyes beckon you to the window. Laying out is a phonograph, one Nigel plays, though there’s no music recorded - just Shaw’s voice, thick with emotion.] “Logan, I- /ˈdæmɪt/, I hope this thing is working right. I hope you’re well? The Tomb Colonies, can be quite draining, I know. I… I’ve left this for you, as I didn’t quite trust my No`çuk" script, and… well, this is quite serious.” [A pause. The sound of drumming fingers on the table.] “This is harder to say than I thought, I, ah…” [A deep, shaky breath.] “The reason I first came to London was not a good one. My daughter had been- she had been taken from me. I came here for revenge, to find the one who’d… and, in all honesty, to lose myself in the process. Now, I’ve left to finish what I’ve started. If I do not return, I… Logan, you’ve become so dear to me. The kindness you’ve shown me, all of it… it is something I will never forget. You are impossible, magnificent… and I love you. Terribly so. What else is there to say?” [A laugh, clearly through tears.] “I will find you, if I make it back. I swear. Xïmo`tu`no` szokh, Muszhka`. If I can’t, I… no. I will. I love you, Logan.” [The recording ends there. Nigel offers it to you.]

- x - x -

[oflgtfol]

i'm reminded of Saturn, The Bringer of Old Age by gustav holst, which is pretty much just entirely about accepting the inexorable march towards death

the song starts off as this slow, eerie thing that creates this sense of dread. it lumbers, it drags its feet, and the prominent horn section gives it this elegant, antiquated feel, like someone who has aged gracefully. but the underlying sense of unease is still there

it gradually begins to build up in intensity, the plodding feel gets more overbearing, like someone who is resisting the march of time rather than gracefully following along. and the horns get louder and louder, making it such a dreadful march. and then the fucking tolling of the bells. signalling the hour, like a clock, because you're running out of time. the end is near and you're running out of time. or like a funeral toll, signalling your own upcoming death

and then... it backs off. just the quiet drone of the string section accompanied by a stripped back chime melody leading to the woodwinds with their own chimes, and then the brass and strings come back in. its this quiet, peaceful thing. its soft, its sad and bittersweet, its emotional. the end is here and you can no longer run from it, all you can do is accept it. this is what acceptance sounds like. puts my head in my hands

[crissiebaby]

Million Diaper Baby: Chapter 4

DISCLAIMER: This story contains diaper usage, humiliation, domination, sissification, chastity, masturbation/diaper sex, and other ABDL themes. I hope you enjoy!

Commissioned By: Gun1242

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*THUMP! THUMP-THUMP!*

Holding up a pair of punching mitts, Matthew did his best to ignore his overtly feminine attire while serving as Amy’s dutiful sparring partner. His pink dress, made of lace and taffeta, severely contrasted the target gloves and protective headgear, the latter of which he was thankful to hide his blushy face behind. If only he could say the same for his regulation boxing diaper, which was on prominent display beneath the hem of his short, frilly outfit. The noisy article was even more obnoxious than usual without a pair of gym shorts to dampen the sound. Adding to his distress was the wet itch of makeup that saturated his sweaty face. He was lucky Amy used waterproof products so it wasn’t running into his eyes, though that also meant his face stayed “pretty” throughout the entire day. And to think, this was only day one of seven. Amy’s punches were certainly fierce but no impact would ever land as fatal a blow as the one she delivered to his ego.

Meanwhile, Amy was having the time of her life squaring up against her sissified bestie. It wasn’t that she felt zero guilt for what she was doing to Matthew and his image around the gym. It was merely that the guilty part of herself was greatly overshadowed by how amusingly cathartic it all was. Every day since she was old enough to train alongside Matthew, she’d been reminded time and time again that she would never measure up to him, or any other guy for that matter. If only those same naysayers could see her now.

*DING! DING!*

“Fighters! Trade out!” announced the gym’s manager, clearing the rings to allow the next set of boxers to spar.

Relaxing his stance, Matthew made a beeline for the ropes. Never before had he been so happy to hear the final bell toll. It had been a grueling twelve hours of back-and-forth workouts, brawling, and waiting on Amy's hand and foot, the latter of which was by far the most energy-draining. Still, regardless of what Amy had planned for the six days he had left on his sentence, the first was officially in the books.

“Ahem!”

Matthew began stepping between the ropes, only to pause at the sound of Amy’s grating voice. “Well? Aren’t you going to hold those open for me?” she said, gesturing at the ropes in his hands.

Ignoring the ardent jeers being lobbed at him from anyone in earshot, Matthew glared at Amy as he stepped aside and stretched the ropes wide enough for Her Highness to step through. No matter how hard he tried not to let these little moments get to him, it was the condescending tone she used when ordering him around that truly got on his nerves. “Really milking this for everything it's worth, huh?” he said snidely, attempting to dampen whatever satisfaction Amy was getting from this.

“Oh, Matti-cakes, if you think this is milking it, you’ve got a big storm coming,” responded Amy as she squatted between the ropes. Midway through, she allowed her back foot to kick the rope out from under Matthew’s foot, dislodging it and causing the elastic to snap back to its original position, “Oops!”

*TWIP!*

“GAH!” grunted Matthew, forced to cling to the top rope as the middle one slammed against the base of his diaper. The padding did provide some level of protection but not enough to make it painless. His body slowly rag-dolled to the ground.

Covering her mouth and feigning innocence, Amy rushed to Matthew’s aid. “Youch! Sorry about that,” she said, patting his head in the least soothing way possible, “But hey, look at it this way. At least you know you’re still a guy under all this.” Her fingers teasingly picked at the frilly shoulders of his dress.

Swatting Amy’s doting hands away, Matthew attempted to sit up, only for Amy to immediately pull him back to the floor. “Ugh, c’mon,” he muttered, feebly pawing upward like a turtle on its back. The indentured servitude schtick was bad enough without literally being pushed around schoolyard bully style. Sadly, there was little he could do to fight back since his hands were tapped into thickly padded target gloves.

*CUP!*

Matthew gasped as Amy’s hand abruptly planted itself against the front of his diaper. “My Goddess! I’m shocked you’re not leaking with how soaked this thing is,” she stated loudly and proudly, acting as though she hadn’t refused to give Matthew a single bathroom break. Her cruel, greedy smile expanded as Matthew’s cock stiffened beneath her palm, “Ya know, Mama Amy would be happy to change her baby girl’s diapee. I bet my Matti-cakes would like that lots.” Her performative behavior quickly garnered attention from many of the gym’s attendees, and unlike before, the gymnasium was nearly at capacity.

Curling his arms around his head to mask how flustered he was, Matthew knew shoving Amy’s hand away would expose his boner to everyone gawking at the two of them. The last thing he needed was for anyone to believe he enjoyed Amy’s sissy baby treatment. Caught between a rock and a hard-on, he could do nothing but lie flat and pray that Amy would take pity on him for once.

Unfortunately, Amy had a million thoughts swirling around in her mind, and not a single one of them was merciful. “Roman, would you be so kind as to retrieve my duffle bag?” she said as she watched the gym revolve around her like clockwork, bending to whatever whim popped into her head next.

Lifting his arms from his face, Matthew’s heart skipped a beat as Amy’s heavy gym bag was plopped down next to his head. “What’s going-” he said, silenced immediately by Amy’s pointer finger pressing into his lips. Amy had certainly had her fun up to this point but there was no way she was going to do something as depraved as changing his diaper in front of the entire gym…right? The answer to that question appeared to be a resounding yes as he watched her pull a soft, plastic rectangle out of her bag of goodies. He lunged forward in an attempt to get up only for Barry’s fat hand to plant itself against his chest, gluing him to the floor. He wasn’t going anywhere until Amy said so. “This is messed up, Amy!”

“Oh, hush. What’s a diaper change between friends?” said Amy, brushing aside Matthew’s well-justified concern as tore the tapes off his diaper one by one.

Matthew opened his mouth to protest only for a pacifier to invade his oral cavity, halting his speech. He gagged as his tongue lapped up whatever strawberry-flavored jelly seemed to be coated around the bulb, which was by far his least favorite flavor. 

“Quit your yapping. You freeball around the locker room without a care in the world. It’s nothing we haven’t seen already,” quipped Barry, referring to Matthew’s shamelessness when it came to locker room shower etiquette. He took joy in nudging the binky back into place anytime Matthew tried to spit it out.

Squirming in place, Matthew was helpless to do anything but avert his gaze as the front of his diaper was pulled open. “Dude! Haha! You’re not actually supposed to use your diaper!” “No fucking way! Is he hard?” “I think we’re gonna need a new Welterweight champ after this.” The mocking and opportunistic voices of his toughest competitors swarmed him, eating away at the last vestiges of his reputation as Amy proceeded to thoroughly wipe down the length of his diaper area.

“I hope you know that this would go a lot faster if you’d quit wiggling,” said Amy, playfully slapping at Matthew’s erection with a wet wipe before rubbing the length of it multiple times over. Her smirk was impermeable as she whisked away the droplet of precum that had formed at the tip.

For as miserable as Matthew was, it was hard to deny how euphoric Amy’s diligent fingers felt. His breathing became shaky and haggard as she mopped away the urine that had soaked into his crotch with a cool, soothing wipe. Gritting his teeth against the rubber pacifier, he opened his mind up to the dismally somber concepts of war, famine, pestilence, and death in hopes of easing back his saber from its battle-ready stance.

Thankfully, Amy didn’t hold on scrubbing Matthew's cock longer than necessary, her hands instead moving southward to continue cleaning. Using her free hand to grip both of his ankles together and hoist them high, she ran a second wipe down his grundle and in between his untouched booty cheeks. His adorable reaction to her teasing his little hole for a split second further fueled her inner sadist. It wasn’t her intention to awaken anything inside herself but sexual domination was something she could see herself delving more into. Armed with a kinky hypothesis to test, she returned to her duffle bag, curling her lips inward as she examined the vast array of fetish products gifted to her by CrissBaby in her welcome package.

With his legs back on the ground, Matthew prayed that his diaper change was nearing its end. However, he soon realized this would not be the case as he spotted Amy removing a pair of CrissBaby’s trademarked changing products from her bag: a half-used container of CrissBaby Infinity Powder, which was an adult baby powder designed for extending wearing, and a full bottle of CrissBaby Dreamy Cream, an aphrodisiac-infused diaper lotion.

Not that Matthew was familiar with either product. Typically, boxers simply utilize an odorless talcum powder to prevent chafing from their diaper. As such, he was oblivious to all the different lotions and powders involved with changing a literal baby. He wanted to refuse and ask for his usual powder but for some odd reason, he found it impossible to cease suckling on the pacifier between his lips. It was as if his anxiety jolted anytime his sucking slowed. What was Amy doing to him?!

*SQUISH!*

In an instant, Matthew’s resistant thoughts were vaporized as his stiffy was unceremoniously coated with a handful of creamy lotion. He had barely held it together when she came at him with the wet wipe. That pleasurably prickly sensation one feels before an orgasm radiated around his cock like a rapidly spreading wildfire, causing his hips to buck against Amy’s hand.

“Uh oh, I think someone’s starting to like having his diaper changed,” taunted Amy, leaving Matthew with blue balls as she shifted away from his penis after a few seconds. Men were known for possessing only a single load, and she didn’t want him wasting his just yet. Depositing another several squirts of lotion onto her fingertips, she again collected Matthew’s ankles and moved to lather him up from taint to tailbone.

Though, it was Matthew’s tailpipe that ended up seeing the most attention. In the midst of buttering up his rear crevasse, a cruel desire arose within Amy. It was his doleful yet huffy expression that did her in. She couldn’t get enough of that timid look in his eyes. She needed more. Bunching her index and middle fingers together, she swiftly and secretly jabbed at Matthew’s colon.

“WUHH?!” muttered Matthew from behind his pacifier as a shockwave of aching arousal laid waste to his weakened lower half. It was only momentary but the impression Amy’s digits whipped his already withered mental state up into a frenzy. Unbeknownst to him were the effects that the various CrissBaby products were having on his body, specifically the lotion, which lingered to stimulate his prostate even after Amy’s fingers had fully retreated. Tangled within a spider’s web of lustful prurience, he gasped with eyes as wide as dinner plates as he began adding to the amount of white cream in his diaper.

The crowd was once again launched into an uproar over Matthew’s mortifying bodily reaction. Each spurt of jizz elevated the volume of their incessant cackling. Not a soul among them held a shred of respect for Mr. 19 and 0 any longer.

“Whoopsie-daisy. Looks like someone had a little accident,” cooed Amy, twisting the knife further as she mopped up the lines of cum drizzled across Matthew’s lower tummy, “Good thing I have a solution that should nip your teensy problem in the bud.” The male chorus at Amy’s back cheered viciously as she plucked a small, pink chastity cage from her gym bag and waved it around for Matthew to see.

TO BE CONTINUED…

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Edited by AllySmolShork

Special Thanks to Our CrissBaby Diaper Company Investors: BlushyBen DD JFN Nike PrincessKittenLizzi SissyDina Strawberry Sweetsamantharebecca & One Anonymous Investor

[arwenkenobi48]

Robin Hood Minific: Prince John And The Ghost

Prince John claims he doesn’t believe in ghosts, but a mysterious encounter is about to prove otherwise…

“…an’ legend has it, as legen’ always does, that the ghost of that headless execution’r goes a-wanderin’ through Nottin’ham when the moon is full, lookin’ fer a new head to chop off.” As the Sheriff of Nottingham finished his gruesome tale, he took note of audience’s reaction. Sir Hiss looked slightly disturbed, Trigger was listening with furrowed brow in concentration, Nutsy’s knees were knocking to a cartoonish degree, but Prince John’s reaction really took the cake.

The lion’s fur was standing on end, his eyes were as wide as dinner plates and his entire body was quivering like a golden blancmange. Every few seconds, he made a little whimpering sound like the beginning of a sneeze and in typical Prince John fashion, his thumb was slowly finding its way to his mouth. It took every bit of effort for the sheriff to not burst out laughing.

“Well now, how’s that fer a scary story?” Prince John immediately snapped out of his terror-induced paralysis. “Pah! Headless executioner, indeed. How would he even be able to see where he was going? What a lot of poppycock!”

Little did Prince John know that he and his courtiers weren’t the only ones who had overheard the story. A certain group of outlaws were also listening in on the macabre fable and had seen his reaction. Robin Hood ducked behind the castle wall and whispered to his companions. “Friar Tuck, put your hood up. I think I’ve got an idea…”

1 hour later…

Sir Hiss leaned on the sill of the royal bedroom window, a gentle breeze ruffling the ends of his cape. “Ahhh, what a fine night this is…” Resting his head on the end of his tail, positioned like a hand, he gazed up into the sky. “And what a beautiful full moon that is, too.” Prince John felt the fur on the back of his neck stand up. “D-d-did you say a…a full m-m-m-moon, Hiss?” “Yesss, come and have a look, sire. It’s sssimply lovely.”

Prince John stared up at the moon, feeling increasingly uncomfortable. “Uh, it’s fine enough, as full moons go, I suppose,” His words were more muffled than he wanted. “Are you alright, sssire? You sssseem a little on edge.” “On edge? Me? Rubbish, Sir Hiss! I’m as not on edge as a king can be!”

Suddenly, there was a loud, low clang from the courtyard below. It sounded like the solemn toll of a solitary church bell, but it was really just Little John banging two large metal pots together on the other side of the ramparts. “GAH!” Prince John leapt about a foot in the air. “What was th-th-that!?”

“Did it work, Rob?” Little John whispered hopefully. “Looks like it, Johnny. He’s coming into the courtyard now.” Robin watched excitedly as Prince John and Sir Hiss entered the courtyard. Grasping the hilt of his sword tightly to hide the fact that his hands were shaking, Prince John called out into the dark: “Come out with your hands up, whoever you are!” A strange groaning sound emanated from just outside the castle walls.

“Oooooohhhh…ooooooooohhhhhhh…” A hooded figure emerged from the shadows, seeming to float above the ramparts, draped in a dark cloak and wielding an axe. “Bewaaaaare, Prince Johnnnn!” It bellowed. “It is I, the Headless Executioner! Wooooohooooo!” Friar Tuck was enjoying himself tremendously, swinging his wooden axe about as a camouflaged Little John held him up. Sir Hiss saw right through the disguise, but the same could not be said for Prince John.

“AAAAAAAAAAARRRRRGGGHHHH!!!!” Shrieking like a mandrake, the cowardly lion turned tail and fled back to the safety of his tower, clinging to Sir Hiss like a reptilian lifeline. “Help! Save me! I’m too young to die! MOMMYYYYY!” Practically falling over his own tail in his haste, he scrambled up the stairs, sprinted to his room, leapt into bed and hid under the covers.

“Heeheeheeheeeee!” Friar Tuck guffawed once he and others had retreated to the safety of Sherwood Forest. “Did you see the look on his face? I guess I do look pretty spooky with my hood up!” “Nah, it was Robin’s ghost impression that frightened him,” chuckled Little John. “Ah, but you’re forgetting, old boy,” Robin smiled. “If you hadn’t been there to make Friar Tuck look like a hovering ghost, none of this ever would’ve happened. Hmm, I wonder what Prince John’s up to now…”

When he was finally sure that the Headless Executioner hadn’t followed him up the stairs to his room, Prince John peered out from under his bedsheets. He had been sucking his thumb so much that it was feeling a little sore. “Uh, Sir Hiss? Are we safe now?”

“Yrsss!” Said a muffled voice. “Hiss? Where are you?” “Yr sssrttrn rn me!” When he finally emerged from beneath the royal backside, Sir Hiss wheezed for air. “Yes, we’re sssafe!” He grumbled. “And I don’t think we’ll be requesting ghost sssstories from the Sheriff any time ssssoon!”

The sheriff in question, meanwhile, had slept through the whole adventure and was none the wiser. But his vulture henchmen, Trigger and Nutsy, had only witnessed Prince John’s legendary display of abject terror. “Well, looky there, Trigger.” Chortled Nutsy. “You’d’a think Prince John’d just seen a ghost!”

The End

[greekbros]

"greek-Bros": Snow

Ares: *majestically and menacingly looking at an on going battle in a snowy field* ...hmf, so the battle field will be a fine shade of crimson tod-*turns to see Deimos and Phobos screwing around with the snow* what the fuck are you two doing?

Phobos: *kicking snow and laughing with Deimos*

Deimos: *rolls around enjoying to feel of cold on his armor*

Ares: ......boys. This is no time to be playing in the snow, you can fuck around AFTER we're done here..... besides you'll get too cold if keep touching the snow like that.

Phobos: come on pa, ain't nothin wrong wi-*suddenly realizes he can't feel his fingers and toes and the pleasent cool feeling gets replaced with that terrible wet on cold air feeling* .........*starts making a very annoying whine*

Ares: damnit I told you two.

Deimos: *has mildly buried himself in the snow, starts to also feel the level of cold Phobos is feeling but accepts his fate and lies motionless in the snow making a very good impression of a dead body* ....

Ares: *face palms his helmet making a bell toll noise* ....come on. Let's of warm ourselves up. *Picks up his sword and starts calmly walking to the battle field*

Phobos: *tips toes out of the snow and drags Deimos by the ankle*

Deimos: *still pretending he's died from hypothermia but feels snow getting into his skirt* gah my balls are freezing!

Phobos: bitch.

Deimos: fuck you I hope your dick freezes off.

Ares: Boys.

Phobos and Deimos: sorry pa.

[writing-the-end]

LoL Chapter 19- Exhaustion

Masterpost

A Wizard Hermits tale (AU and Red belongs to @theguardiansofredland )

On their way to lunch, the hermits are attacked. Jealousy rages within the guilds that are losing, but the hermits are unable to fight back. Will they even make it to the event in time? 

___________________________________________

“We make a great team, that paper birdy didn’t even know what happened to it.” Tango laughs, grabbing Grian into a headlock and playfully nuzzling his fist into the golden locks. His body aches, and he feels weak, but prideful. The other hermits around them chatter excitedly, walking down the smooth, clean roads of the noble district. Even the canals of swampwater are tiled and cleaned of dirt and debris. Streets Mumbo knows well- he grew up here. So of course he took the chance to go to his favorite cafe. 

“I’d say I’m happy with bronze, but I really wanted to beat that Mitch guy. Plus, pirates always love gold.” Cleo hums, looking at the medal around her neck. Of course, she’ll always take beating some 30 other guilds to get this medal, their moans and complaints of being beat in the wrestling challenge. She rubs her wrist, wincing. “Though I’ll admit, I haven’t felt this burnt out from magic in years. It’s like that one event sucked it all out of my body.” 

“I feel that way every time I step into the ring.” Tango states, earning a nod from Grian as well. “After day one, I could hardly get out of bed. I felt like a dragon was sitting on my chest.” A few others murmur agreement, and the conversation stops. Not for long, thanks to Grian.

“Scar, Mumbo, are you two ready to show everyone your skills?” Grian grins, fluttering to the front of the group. 

“I was born ready for the creative event. I’ve been dreamin’ about this since I was a boy.” Scar sighs, feeling giddy. He’s already got an idea in mind, building and creating within his own head. 

“I...I’m not so sure. Can’t someone else step in for me? I don’t think I can get my magic to work well enough, much less to beat the others like you all have.”  Mumbo’s terrified. He wishes he had the confidence that Scar just exudes. He has no clue what he’ll build. He’s not even sure if his magic will appear today. 

“You’ve got it, man.” Doc appears beside him, patting his shoulder. “Don’t doubt yourself, otherwise I’ll take control and make you believe.” Mumbo freezes, smiling weakly. He’s not sure if he should be comforted or not by Doc’s offer.

He turns, eyes glimmering upon setting his gaze on the cafe. He came here all the time when he was younger, before he joined the hermits. He would come here to study, to relax, sometimes just to get his favorite tea from the shop. Being back here is strange, the nostalgia mixing with nerves. What would his friends think of this place? Are they out of the normal? Doc and Grian definitely are. 

Mumbo reaches out, grabbing the door’s wrought iron handle. His hand goes right through the metal, iron warping and wiggling like air in the summer heat. “What in the…” 

The ripples cascade out, across the air and townhouses. The mosaics shatter before reforming, and the entire street is empty. But the hermits aren’t alone. “You freaks think you own this place, don’t you? That you’re anything like us? That you can just waltz into the noble district because you’ve won the past two days?” 

Doc immediately summons his magic, ready for a fight. More than a dozen other mages appear from the illusion. Torn shoulder pauldrons, glistening with gold spikes, announces them being from the Guild of Gedeon. A council guild. Behind Doc, he can hear other hermits drawing their circles, blues and yellows shimmering off the illusion they're trapped in. “Let us go, you’re messing with the wrong guild.” 

“Ohoho, win a couple of events and suddenly you think you’re a guild? No, no.” A burly man with feral eyes stares down Doc, shoving him and Cleo towards Scar and Mumbo. “You’re messing up everything. I don’t know why Magistrate Dolios let scum mar such a prestigious event.”

“Maybe it’s because he realized ‘scum like us’ are better at magic than you. Didn’t want the crowd to get bored of the same old dopey outfits and subpar spells.” Cleo’s words have hardly crossed her lips before fists collide with them, sending her splayed across the ground. Doc needs no further initiative, activating his circle and taking control of the mage that struck his friend. His eyes close, and open again looking at himself. Ugh, this body smells. He turns around, meaty hands instead crashing into the Gedeon’s own guildmembers. Three fly out of the illusion, out of the bubble that traps them where no one can watch the fight. Beneath another, the ground opens up beneath her to reveal hellfire. The flames claw at her feet, dragging her into the open chasm. Swallowing her up. 

Doc is thrown out of his puppet, head spinning and blood pooling from his own nose. Grian’s shout rings in his ear, making his head spin and splinter. He looks up, seeing the magical bludgeon disappear like a ghost from a Gedeon member. “You’re gonna regret messing with us. Messing with the order of things. You don’t belong here, none of you do.” 

The illusioner stoops low, snapping his meaty fingers and nodding the gang forward. “And we’ll show you why you don’t mess with the Council. The wrath of  the Guild of Gedeon is not something you walk away from.” 

The fight is intense. Six hermits against about a dozen combatants. What’s worse, the Guild of Gedeon is an offensive group. When the arcane guard can’t do a job, when a strongarm is needed, the Gedeons are the first in line. Cleo holds her own, blood boiling under her dead green skin. Her sword doesn’t back down from a fight, and neither does the poltergeists she summons to aid in the attack. She’s exhausted, but that doesn’t stop her from being in the middle of the battle. Doc jumps from person to person, tapping into their magic and turning it back onto their own teammates. Scar does his best to protect Doc in the process, throwing up walls of rock only for them to be crushed by a volatile spell shot their way. 

But they aren’t winning. Cleo and Doc’s attacks aren’t enough to stave off the fights and fragments of magic flown their way. Tango’s magic is all but gone, sapped from his body. Where did it all go? He had it all this morning, and the bird chase event couldn’t have been enough for him to lose it all! Even worse, Grian’s magic sputtered and died halfway through his attack. Mumbo peeks out from behind Scar’s barrier, hissing with pain as a bolt of hot rock is flung against his forehead. “Grian, what in the world is going on with your magic?” 

“I...I don’t know, Mumbo!” He flicks his wrists, but nothing happens. His arms snap in a quick dance, and he does manage to summon his spell. The wind is hardly more than a summer breeze in his hair. “It’s not there, I’m drained of magic, of energy! But how, I hardly used anything!”

“It’s like you’re me!” The four hiding behind the wall are crushed as the rocks collapse. Trapped, unable to fight off the onslaught. Scar can only block the worst attacks, but bruises and cuts blossom across the hermits.

Until the bell of the capitol building tolls a single time. As quickly as the fight started, it stops. Scar lowers his walls and arm, brushing the blood from his cheek. Immediately, he searches for his friends. Doc struggles to his feet, ready to fight. But Cleo, Grian, and Tango look like they’ve been fighting for hours. They’re completely out of magic, skin pale and eyes glazed with weakness. Something is very wrong. Is there a suppressor mage here? No, that would affect everyone. Mumbo scrabbles backwards, wrist hanging limp. “Good luck getting to check in for the rest of the events, freaks. We’ll see who’s in the labyrinth event now.” 

The illusion drops, and the busy street returns. Bustling crowds, horse-drawn carriages and carts passing by the hermits. As alone as when they first arrived at the cafe. People step around them, glancing at the battered group but never offering help. Scar gasps, wobbling to his feet. “The competition! Mumbo, we’re going to be late!” He pulls Mumbo to his feet. 

“You guys go ahead.” Doc growls, sitting down on a pile of rubble. He rubs blood off of his cheek. “I don’t think the others can get up. They’re too weak.” 

“What caused that? How could Grian not use his magic?” He’s an S-Class, he has ultimate control of his magic. But he acted like he was...well, Mumbo. And now? Now his friends are hurt. They lost the fight- no, they were thrashed. And he wasn’t even able to do anything. 

“I don’t know, but I have a sneaking suspicion who the dark mage is now.” Doc waves the two off, before snarling. “Go! I’ve got the others!” And he’ll be sure Gedeon’s leader, that monster Sidero, gets a taste of what he just did to his friends. He must be the dark mage, trying to stop them. 

But as Doc watches Mumbo and Scar flee, and he helps Grian, Tango, and Cleo to their feet, he’s only made them angrier. 

_____________________________

“How am I...gah, how am I supposed to take a giant cat statue and make it move?” Mumbo hisses, looking up at the relief. Scar’s winning sculpture for the creative event was incredible. He could practically see every hair and whisker of Jellie, carved from stone using her owner’s terraforming magic. Even her wings are feathered, each barb as thin and interlocking as the real thing. It’s easy to see why Scar won the creative contest, hands down.

And here he is ruining it all with his own magic. The council really outdid themselves, pulling a twist like this. His magic falters, and the redstone dust collapses to the ground. Mumbo’s chest feels heavy, lungs pressed and heart clenching. His head feels dizzy, and his magic is nearly impossible to tap into. Surely this is all just nerves? But even Scar looked exhausted, like he was struggling to breathe, to stand after his magic. Exactly what Grian and Tango looked like. 

What’s happening? He can’t help but look over his shoulder. Other guilds are working on the creations their teammates created. Whatever was before them, they had to automate. And from what Mumbo can see, most others are well ahead of him. Especially Ian, deep in the bowels of the contraption Sky had built. He can be heard swearing, the conductive gold making his machine move when he doesn’t want it to. At least Mumbo doesn’t have to worry about that. 

But that doesn’t mean he can do it. The redstone dust falls apart, showering the ground beneath him. He’s going to disappoint everyone, he’s going to ruin Scar’s wonderful statue. He’s going to be the only wizard in this event that can’t even get the thing to move! He falls to his knees, the pressure mounting in his lungs. Making it hard to breathe, crushing in on him. And he’s exhausted, even though he’s barely used any of his magic. He can’t even get it to appear. Like always. All this work, all his hopes to win, will mean nothing if he can’t get his magic to summon. He’s a multi-mage, but he can never prove it. He can never show off his powers, and it’s exactly why he could never join any guild. Looking around, he can see all the guilds in the field he applied to. All of them said no, laughed in his face and ridiculed him when his magic failed to show itself. And now here he is, proving them all right. Making a laughing stock of the Order of Hermits. 

“You can do it, Mumbo!” He picks his head up, looking around. He doesn’t recognize that voice. It takes him a moment to realize it’s not coming from any of the hermits. The voice is loud, echoing over the crowd’s low roar. It’s Ecto, one of the wanderers. Beside her, the other two teammates are cheering him on as well. Red’s practically bouncing in his seat, about to fall over the railing as he yells as loud as possible.

More voices join them. He can hear Iskall, shouting for him to breathe, to remember his training. He can hear some sort of soliloquy being written across the sky, intertwined with Joe’s voice. Zedaph and Impulse are holding up a sign, nearly knocking False and Wels with the board. Even the rest of Team Crafted was cheering for him. TFC is watching Mumbo, blue eyes gazing through silvery hair. He gives a small nod and a smile, his own way of showing his encouragement.

All of the hermits are his family, the family he never had. A family that would support him, help him, be with him no matter what. That never gave up on him. And TFC was like the father he never had, with a calm voice as smooth as obsidian and as strong as diamond. Someone he could go to with all his fears and faults, and know he wouldn’t be ridiculed or put down. That TFC would listen, and offer sound advice. Advice he can hear echoing in his head now. “It isn’t about the amount of times you fall down, Mumbo. It’s about how many times you get back up.” 

So he gets back up again. He brushes the sand and dirt off the black fabric of his trousers, ignoring the physical pain in his chest and the unwieldy way his head spins. He closes his eyes, hand outstretched. In his mind, he can see his magic circle. The ninety degree turns ending in dots, the petal-like curls from the center. His hands move unconsciously, following the pattern of motions he created. It’s like ramming open a door, trying to find his magic. Trying to connect to it. But once he’s in, it washes all over his body. 

He opens his eyes, his circle cast and the redstone moving to his bidding. Climbing up and ingraining in the pores of Scar’s stonework, following lines weathered through the rock. Lightning shoots through the circuits, from his fingertips and breathing energy into the cat. The haunches of the massive statue move, toe beans uprooting from the sand as Jellie comes to life. Redstone dances across her granite tail, flicking side to side. Mumbo can’t help but laugh, knocked over into the sand by a giant stone cat head rubbing into his chest. Scar’s incredible creation, brought to life with his redstone magic. Given energy through his lightning. 

Statue Jellie opens it’s mouth to meow, but no sound comes out. She turns her head, gazing across the crowd surrounding her. Her eyes stop at the crown seat, where the Council sits in awe. Redstone turns on all across her body, his magic branching out onto each hair as it rises and her back arches. “Whoa, what’s all that about?” 

Mumbo has never seen Jellie hiss at anyone, and even if this stone statue is just a version of her, his magic seems to have brought her to life. And her eyes are as thin as paper, ears turned back and hissing as she faces the Council. Mumbo runs over to the massive kitty, trying to calm her down. Lightning spreads across the redstone, forcing the stone statue to calm. For a second, Mumbo swears he can hear Magistrate Dolios’s voice, though his head is swimming from exhaustion. “Well done, boy. What i wouldn’t give for such...raw power. Soon.”

[cinnabea]

caramel and Kacchan

Forgot to post this here! Originally a gift twitter thread for @bergbath cuz she loves that sweet Kacchan smell, here is some bkdk fluff with just a sprinkle of pining angst (with a sappy, happy ending) after the cut! (cw for mention of panic attacks and symptoms)

~~

The first time Satou made caramel in the dorm kitchen, Izuku had such an intense, visceral reaction to it he had to excuse himself back to his room. 

His heart was throbbing in staccato bursts like he had just imbibed a gallon of coffee. Leaning back against the inside of his closed door, Izuku clutched at the front of his shirt. What was happening? Was he having a heart attack!? Izuku was too young for that!! 

Although, Izuku lead a pretty stressful life. Maybe this was just the result of that. Yes, Izuku's anxiety and multiple brushes with death had taken their toll and he was left with the cardiovascular system of a seventy year old. 

With a sigh he sank to the floor, resigned to his early demise from a weak heart.

After a few minutes of waiting to die, his racing heart slowed down, and Izuku realized.. he was fine.

Well. Okay then. 

The second time that sweet, burnt sugary smell wafted its way from the stove to his nose, Izuku went to see Recovery Girl.

He had calmed down considerably by the time he got there, and he almost turned right around at the door. 

But the little old woman heard him and chased him into her office with her cane.

“You’re alright,” Recovery Girl said when she finished checking him over. “But it sounds like you might have had a panic attack.”

“Oh,” Izuku replied dumbly. Those weren't new. 

But Izuku didn't think it was a panic attack. 

Satou switched to lemon meringue pie, and Izuku forgot about it.

Until his next sparring match-up with Kacchan. 

They were fairly evenly matched, but a quick twist and roll that Izuku didn't predict left him flat on his back with Kacchan's chest pinning him to the ground.

Pressed over his face. 

Trying to inhale through the uniform material suffocating him, Izuku's airways were suddenly assaulted by the overwhelming scent of burning sugar. His heart, already beating fast from the fight, spiked so hard he was sure it cracked his sternum. 

Izuku struggled wildly, forgoing the protocol of tapping out in favor of panicking. Kacchan held him down at first, waiting for the yield-- but rolled off after a few moments.

He stared down at Izuku, eyes blazing; furious and pissed off but something more. 

“The hell, nerd? I hit you that hard?”

Izuku was panting, breathless, heart slamming against his ribs and pulse trying its hardest to burst right out of his skin. He could feel how hot and red his face was.

No good, no good!! Izuku had to get out of there, fast. 

“Panic attack,” he wheezed, before shakily clambering to his feet and booking it out of the gymnasium.

But instead of going to Recovery Girl, he went straight back to his dorm room, barely making it under the covers before he started to break down. 

Of course.

It wasn't caramel, it was Kacchan. 

Izuku didn't know why he didn't make the connection before, it was so obvious. It's not like he had never smelled Kacchan's smoky, signature scent before, a side effect of his nitroglycerin sweat.

But Izuku only just now realized he was in love with him. 

Was so in love, in fact, that the same burning sugar aroma from other sources caused Izuku physical pain.

Tears dampened his pillow as they leaked out from scrunched up eyelids.

For it should have cause his heart to swell, to lift, sending him in eddying whirls of happiness. 

But how could it, when Kacchan would never love him back? 

Izuku's door banged open.

Izuku froze.

If he didn't move, if he just stayed perfectly still, maybe whoever had burst in wouldn't notice the lump hiding under his bedsheets and blankets.

Sure, Izuku.

“Oi, what the fuck is wrong with you?”

That's a very good question!!! 

His barrier of bedding was ripped away, and Izuku yelped. He quickly rolled to hide his pitiful tear-stained, reddened face, but not fast enough. Never fast enough for Kacchan.

“Seriously, the hell happened?” Kacchan's voice was strangely soft.

“Deku.” 

“M’fine, Kacchan, you can go,” Izuku mumbled. “Th-thanks for checking on me but, really, nothing is wrong-- gah!” he gasped, roughly grabbed by the shoulders and yanked upright.

“Don't you dare fucking lie to me, Deku,” Kacchan hissed.

Izuku hiccuped. 

The way he saw it, he had two options: deflect and deny until Kacchan gave up, and Izuku would take his secret to the grave after years of pining in silence and misery; or, confess, and Kacchan put him into an early grave personally.

Izuku went with option three. 

With a flash of green sparks, Izuku surged forward, shoving out of Kacchan's arms and tumbling to the floor in a tangle of blankets twisted around his feet. Scrambling, he burst out of them, making for the door-- but they had snared him long enough that Kacchan caught his ankle. 

Izuku's face slammed into the carpet.

Kacchan was on top of him in an instant, pressing his sugar-sweet body down into Izuku's back. The smell was cloying, smothering. Izuku sobbed.

“No, no,” he cried, practically moaning. He began to hyperventilate, heart pounding, wheezing. 

Kacchan nearly vaulted up off of him.

Izuku was rolled over harshly, and he found himself staring up into horrified red eyes hovering directly above him.

“The fuck,” Kacchan whispered, voice strangled.

Sniffling, Izuku wrapped his arms around his wrecked face, shielding it. 

“Sorry,” he said quietly, voice muffled behind his forearm. “I just found out I'm in love with you.”

...

Izuku waited for death. 

With a thump, Kacchan fell back on his butt, his back against Izuku's bed and his wrists on his knees. His head hit the mattress and he stared up at the ceiling.

Izuku watched him through a gap in his arms, barely able to breathe. 

Maybe he should try to make a run for it again? His eyes flicked to the door.

“Don't even think about it, idiot,” Kacchan growled.

Izuku squeezed his face. His heart had slowed slightly now that Kacchan had backed off, but the dread of anticipation kept his anxiety high. 

There had been no explosion, no expletive, no HAHH or Tch or What The Fuck. Nothing that Izuku had expected, and now he had no idea at all what was going to happen.

Kacchan continued to sit in silence.

Izuku continued to stew in sniffles. 

“So,” Kacchan finally said. “You're supposed to act like.. that,” he gestured sharply at Izuku's crumpled form still prone on the floor. “If you're in love?”

Izuku slowly unwrapped his arms, pushing himself up onto his elbows. He stared back at Kacchan. He sniffled. 

He had no idea what Kacchan was going to say, but he never would have guessed that.

“Um,” Izuku said, swallowing. “I don't know? I don't think so, I just. Have a really strong reaction when, I, uh. Smell you.”

Kacchan raised one eyebrow, before his face split into a grin. 

“Always knew you were a freak, nerd.”

Izuku felt his face grow incredibly hot. He pulled himself up to sitting so he could hunch over and wrap his arms around his chest instead of his face.

“Not like that, Kacchan,” he protested. 

“No?” Kacchan asked, voice suddenly dangerous, setting off warning bells in Izuku's brain. Before he could heed them, however, Kacchan had pushed off of the bed and into Izuku's space, bringing his unbearable sweet scent back into Izuku's nostrils. 

“So this is fine, then.”

Kacchan was so close! Too close!! Izuku tried to scoot back, but Kacchan caught up his wrists and pulled him forward.

Izuku's heart near punched right out of his chest as he was completely drowned in caramel. 

“You love me?” Kacchan asked, voice soft but full of salt.

Izuku nodded, tears continuing to drip down his flushed face.

“Idiot.”

And Kacchan got even closer. 

If Izuku though Kacchan smelled good, it was nothing compared to how he tasted. Just as sweet and decadent as a carnival confection, with notes of raw power and fire as an aftertaste.

Izuku's heart really was going to give out at this point. But what a way to go. 

Kacchan drew back, licking his lips, smirking.

“Does.. Does Kacchan like me, too?” Izuku asked, breathless. He could hardly let himself hope, even with the kiss that had just happened. The kiss!! Kacchan had kissed him!!

Kacchan rolled his eyes. “What do you think, nerd?” 

Izuku grinned, wet and wobbly.

Kacchan pushed his face away.

“You smell like shit, though.”

[end]

[bubblepunk99s]

. Chapter four: The house of Five Waters

Lying before them was a bridge that branched across the canal. Curved like an arched back, the bridge was constructed of dark blue stone, permeated by lines of dully shimmering gold. The most eye-catching aspect of the construct, however, where the gates on either side. Two squat towers of the same blue stone marked the corners of either end of the bridge, upon which were engraved two serpents with golden scales that wrapped around them. Listening, both girls could hear the whirr of unseen wires and technology emitting from it, like the snoring of a sleeping beast.

"Urgh." Tia groaned. "Just looking at this thing is giving me the aches."

"You get the aches 'cause you keep your Baran on at full blast 24/7."

"I aim to live gracefully. You saying this thing doesn't give you any pain?"

Amara shrugged, but as they moved towards the bridge she couldn't deny the feeling of gnawing apprehension this construct gave her. She could taste its power in the air as a sharp metallic tang on her lips and a crackling sensation on her skin. The space between the two block-towers was bizarre to look at, as if a veil of malformed glass had been strung up there. Staring at it for too long before had made her eyes smart all day, so Amara made a point of not looking.

"Alright, let's get this done with." Tia said. With that she made for the right tower while Amara positioned herself in front of the left one. In unison, the two held their bare wrists upwards until they were level with the serpents on their respective sides. Instantly, there was a faint click and a beam of light shot out from the serpents' eyes, onto the girls' exposed skin. Amara winced slightly as the light made contact, but the serpents' check-up was done in a few seconds. They snapped back into their stationary states, while the veil between the two towers began to change. Much like Amara's mirror back home, it started coruscating until it settled as a smooth sliver-like surface, obscuring the bridge behind it.

"Dammit." Tia said as she strode to Amara, glaring at her wrist. "Got burnt again."

"Probably didn't hit the whole of your chip. I keep telling you that you need to hold your arm higher." Amara chided.

"Whatever." Tia grumbled. "I still think this system is a joke."

"Oh, look on the bright side. It's the fun part now."

At that Tia gave Amara a sly grin. "You seem keen. I'm guessing you don't want to hold hands anymore."

"That was once, Tia. It was required on our first day-" Amara began but was stopped when Tia held out her hand.

"Relax. I remember." She assured. "But it is our big day, so I figure we should enter in style."

Amara rolled her eyes but still slipped her hand into Tia's. "Live gracefully?" She said.  

Tia winked. "Always"

The two girls walked through the veil.

They did not go through gracefully.

First, both girls experienced a sudden destabilizing shock- similar to falling in in cold water while having your armpits electrocuted. They had both been expecting this so it bothered them little. What did surprise them was what happened next. Before either of them could take their next step, a sudden tugging sensation yanked them violently to their left, like a kite being pulled by a sudden gust. Within an instant, Amara and Tia were off their feet and speeding through a tunnel of pulsing light. Amara could feel her body shake and throb with blinding energy that stabbed through every fiber of her being. Just when she thought her head couldn't take it anymore, the rushing pull came to an abrupt stop. For a second, they floated in air. Then both girls tumbled to the floor. As they did, Amara noticed that her body bounced ever so slightly off the ground before settling. They had arrived. But what had all that been about?

"Gah" Groaned Tia who was lying next to her. Pulling herself up, she brushed her braid back behind her shoulder and gave Amara a gentle shake. "You OK?" She asked.

By way of response, Amara gave quick thumbs up. Her throat felt weirdly narrow, as if it was somehow parched with thirst. Still nothing seemed broken, so as far as she was concerned she had come out on top. Getting up, the girls began to take stock of their surroundings. They appeared to be in some form of room, with a domed black ceiling that still managed to emit light somehow. The floor beneath them mirrored the roof by being smooth to the touch and constructed of cool metal. There appeared to be no door, but there was a hole located straight in front of them. And beside it was a man.

The man seemed to be in his middle-ages with a neatly trimmed beard, the sharp edges of which nicely complimented the geometric patterns on the sides of his tunic. Said tunic was a navy-blue color interwoven with threads of gold that shimmered in and out of sight as he moved, much like the stone of the bridge-entrance. A light blue cape was draped over one shoulder with a border pattern of black diagonal lines, indicating his rank and status: archivist with a record of one tenure. He held in his hand a small electronic writing tile and appeared to be ticking something on it with a silvery pen.

"You two." He said. His tone was authoritative, but his Baran- which was wobbling between different frequencies- betrayed a certain uncertainty to him. It was clear to Amara that he wasn't used to the role he had been assigned.

"You two." He began again, more forcefully now. "Come. The ceremony is barely a minute away."

"Ceremony?" Tia asked incredulously, while Amara felt her stomach drop faster than a convict at the gallows.

The archivist narrowed his eyes. "You are initiates in the scribal arts, correct?"

Before Tia could respond, Amara stepped in. "We are just that, sir." She said. "Both of us were just slightly confused about how events would proceed." Just to be safe, Amara also reduced her Baran to a faint hum allowing the archivist's to be heard more clearly. Tia followed her example. This simple move was a classic act of respect, indicating deference to one's superiors. It clearly had its desired effect, as the man's own Baran steadied to a heartbeat-like pace.

"Not to worry." The archivist said, eyes glued to his tile which he appeared to be ticking. "Just seat yourself and we'll commence."

He then snapped his fingers. Instantly, a portion of the floor in front of him opened and a small coracle came up, right in front of the hole. Inside were two grooved seats. The archivist had stopped talking, his work apparently done. Tia, however, took the hint and lead Amara into the small boat. Once settled, the girls looked for some means of propulsion- be it a paddle or an engine- but found precisely nothing.

"Excuse me-" Amara started, but before she could finish her request the archivist (his eyes still trained on his tile) gave the coracle a sharp shove with his foot, booting it through the hole. The girls yelped as their vessel fell down before landing with a splash in what appeared to be water. They heard a door slam shut above them and were then placed in near-total darkness.

"Tikan!" Yelled Tia back accompanied by a violent spike in her Baran that Amara was sure would give the archivist above an ache in the brain. Tikan referred to a type of endoparasite worm that was common in sick labor beasts that frequented the void-ports of the city. If Tia was willing to bust out her biological knowledge Amara knew she must be pissed. Though her own feelings made Tia's anger seem far, far away despite her sitting right next to her. That word went back and forth in her head like the tolling of a bell. Ceremony. How could she have forgotten? Had her mind been so fixated on the finish line that she lost sight of the first hurdle?

Amara thought back to the coin she had flipped into the river. She had done so as a good luck charm; a little trick to secure fortune for the day or so her mother had told her. But looking ahead, it seemed that a little circle of metal resting on the bottom of a canal wasn't going to do much good in the face of what was coming.

"Hey Amara" Tia's voice reached through Amara's hurricane of stressed thoughts and grabbed her attention in the gloomy dark. "Sorry for blanking out back there. Your save was much appreciated."

"Thanks." Amara said back. "I take it you've remembered the ceremony now."

Tia groaned. "Yeah. How many do you reckon-"

She was cut short when the darkness they were in was broken by sudden bursts of light. The floor beneath the water was suddenly illuminated with a ghostly blue glow as pockets of light began to shine, gradually growing in intensity like shining flowers opening to a hidden sun. Their radiance was mirrored in the lines of blue light that could now be seen on the ceiling, trailing and criss-crossing over one another like the trail of some ghostly snail. Their coracle then began to move. slowly but surely it edged forwards, despite their seemingly being no force propelling. Instead it felt like they were being pulled, gently yet ceaselessly down the softly shining channel.

"It's begun." Amara observed, feeling the sudden blue light covering the tunnel wasn't proof enough that weirdness was afoot. Turning to Tia, she asked "You all prepared?"

Tia gave an awkward smile and said. "Think as much as I can be. It's just a matter of keeping our Barans on a leash, right?"

The coracle was gaining speed now, as they turned a corner and began to gradually flow downwards. "That's true but there's more to it than that. We're going to have to merge with all the others. Ever done that before?"

"I think you know the answer to that question." Tia said irritably as they sped down a slope of water.

Amara sighed, but she couldn't say she had much experience either. She had been so fixated on what manner of text they would be assigned that she had almost completely failed to remember the assembly; the opening ceremony wherein all the scribal initiates would be grouped together. As one, they would raise their Barans to the ceiling, hiding nothing from those who would be examining them. Their superiors would then place the girls in groups of four based on how well their Barans complimented each other. And it was in these groups that the initiates would analyze the text given to them.

As the pair began to pick up speed, Amara heard noises in the darkness. The sounds of whispering was coming in through the walls around them, underscored by the faint but unmistakable noise of Barans contrasting and playing against one another.

With a sharp swerve to the right, the girls rounded a corner. Up ahead was an exit with light streaming out of it. Closer and closer it got. Amara inhaled deeply and looked Tia deep in the eye.

"Get ready." She whispered as the two passed through the door way and into the light.

Almost immediately Amara was overwhelmed.

Before she could take stock of her surroundings, her brain nearly cracked open like one of her father's eggs. A wave of Barans came crashing down upon the shore of her mind. Drowning her. Crushing her. She came close to blacking out until Tia grabbed her hand and squeezed tight, digging her nails into Amara's flesh. The shock was enough to jerk Amara back into reality. Breathing in, she looked up and properly saw her environment. High black walls stretched upwards, though illumination came from the glowing surface beneath the water and a solitary skylight located far above in the ceiling, the shine from which was beaming down directly on to the dead center of the room. Converging on to this point were waterways streaming from every corner of the room. And floating on these streams were the initiates.

There was about four on each path. Glancing back, Amara could see three more pairs trailing down the waterway they were currently on. They were all wearing the same dark red uniform marking their status as initiates and all of them seemed to be as stunned as Amara had been. Their faces darting back and forth, quicker than buzzing flies, trying to take in the enormity of this new space. Amara felt a pang of sympathy for a young girl who was sitting hunched in her coracle, shivering under the sheer volume of Barans swarming around her, while her partner rubbed her back in an attempt to calm her. She considered reaching out to help, but was distracted by the Tia tugging at her side. Glancing ahead, Amara could see that in the point where the streams converged was a massive pool where the coracles were starting to fall into and group together.

Amara tried to steady her breathing as the pair of them sloshed down into the pool. She had managed to grow accustomed to the amount of Barans in the hall and could even feel her own again. She gave Tia's hand a gentle squeeze, who smiled faintly back. It was clear their entrance had been draining on her too.

Eventually, all 16 pairs had flowed into the central space. Once the last pair entered, a mechanical whine suddenly emitted from the coracles. In an instant, each boat stuck to the side of the one directly next to it until all of them were joined in one big metal net. Around her, Amara could see her fellow initiates glancing around, whispering to each other though some simply tried to recover from the Baran onslaught they had just experienced. A few seconds passed. Then their attention was drawn by a deep, solid creak emitting from the end of the hall. Craning their necks, they could see that the wall there had begun to open. Beams of prismatic light shot out from behind and Amara could catch the mummering and footsteps of what seemed like several people going about their business. Then three figures slipped through the entrance, closed the door and made their way to the assembled students.

They arrived and took places around the pool. With just a glance, Amara could tell that these three were higher up in the academy's strata than anyone she had come across before in her three years of studying. The man standing in front of her had a deep crimson tunic, heavy gold bands encircling his wrists and a face as hard as quarry stone. His eyes were sharp and black, never fixed on one place for long as they swept over the assembled initiates. From the intensity of his gaze, Amara almost felt like the assessing ceremony had already began and she was being shoved under the spotlight.

"Gathered initiates." Said one of the other figures standing above the pool. Turning her head, Amara was pleased to see her teacher- Miss Amaharan- who had instructed her and Tia both for the past three years. Her wrinkled face looked so warm in the falling light, her eyes calm and still as they surveyed her students from over a slightly curved nose.

"Gathered initiates." She repeated. "First and foremost, I would thank you for your prompt and dignified arrival. Efficiency is our priority here."

Amara listened intently, though she chose to edit the 'dignified' part of Amaharan's sentence considering her and Tia's entrance into the academy had involved them literally falling flat on their faces.

"Secondly" Amaharan continued. "Cherish that appraisal. Chances are you won't be experiencing easy thanks like that for some time. True praise is hard-won in the House of Five Waters- and all the more meaningful as a result."

She gave a slight chuckle. The man in red, however, frowned and gave an impatient jerk of the head in Amaharan's direction. Taking the hint, she sighed and assumed a more upright position.

"As you are aware, you will now be expected to raise and intermix your Barans." Amaharan said. "You needn't have anything to fear, though. Our examiner has you under all her protection."

She gestured to the third person to have come in, standing to her left. This was a young woman, brown skinned with a bob of black hair. She didn't say anything, but Amara noticed the corners of her mouth twitch, revealing small scars on each side.

Sounding disappointed for some reason, Amaharan continued. "We begin in one minute. Please prepare yourself."

She stepped down from the platform. Immediately, whispering began among the initiates, everyone bracing themselves for the test. Amara simply closed her eyes and steadied her breathing. She'd burnt through the majority of her worrying. All she cared about now was getting it over with. Still, Amara opened one eye just to check on how Tia was doing. She had her eyes fixed forward, but on feeling Amara's gaze, she gave a weak smile. As the final seconds ticked away, she mouthed something to Amara- though she couldn't make out what it was.

Amaharan's voice echoed in the dark hall.  

"You may begin."

In an instant, all of Amara's filters dropped.

Her Baran-which had been suppressed fiercely ever since stepping out her door-expanded to its full form. As it did, Amara felt her consciousness get tugged out of her body, flowing with her now free mental field. Soon she was lost in the noise and color of the rapidly building storm of energy that was now filling the hall. Countless sounds swirled in her mind. She flitted between droning hums, calming sighs, fluctuating whistles, more and more with each passing second, slamming and combining with each other in the cacophony. Then came the visions. One second, she was walking through a room, bare feet bouncing off a floor warmed by the steps of many others , the odor of scented wood filling her nostrils. But before she could settle into this scene, she found herself in another. Now she was standing in the docks watching as a bow shaped ship lifted off the ground and headed toward the sky, which opened up to receive it, revealing inky blackness beyond...

On and on it went, more and more visions piling on top of one another. More than she could count, more than she could process, streaming through her mind. Who even was 'she'? Was she the girl surrounded by the books? The one sitting in prayer? With each passing second, she was drifting further and further apart, losing any sense of individuality in the swarm of histories, color, sound and...

ENOUGH

After what felt like hours of floating aimlessly about, Amara was jolted back into her body with the force of a fly suddenly dying in the middle of hovering. She blinked and looked around blearily, her flesh feeling like a strait jacket after the anarchic freedom of the Baran vortex. Several of the initiates were groaning and slumping in their coracles, clearly experiencing the same backlash that Amara was going through. Tia herself was swaying from side to side, mumbling something about ships coming into port. Amara considered giving her a gentle shake but held back, figuring that even the slightest nudge might push her befuddled friend into the water.

Glancing upwards, Amara could see the scar-mouthed examiner looking down on them like a hawk. Her eyes briefly met with Amara's and in an instant the young girl knew who had brought her back to reality. The examiner had the darkest eyes of anyone that Amara had ever seen. One look was enough for her to immediately quit staring and turn her attention back to Miss Amaharan.

"Excellent display, initiates." The teacher said, quickly glancing side to side to make sure none of her pupils had passed out. "Your hard work has borne fruit. For the time being, however, you can rest."

She held her wrist up and typed a sequence on to the bracelet there. The doors at the hall's far end opened, letting in a stream of honey-colored light.

"15 minutes break in recuperation chambers" Amaharan continued. "Then you will be informed of the results."

At that, there was an ecstasy of fumbling as the initiates picked themselves from the coracles and stumbled out of the pool. Amara leant the still groggy Tia a hand as they made their way to the door. As they passed, Amara felt a tightness in her throat and knew that the examiner was still staring at her.

The nest few minutes were a blur. The group was lead down a well-lit hallway, a welcome change from the darkness of the gathering point they had left. If she had been herself, Amara would have probably taken note of the inscriptions on the walls. Or the patterning on the floor they walked on. Or the fact that they were probably going through the catacombs of the house of the Five Waters. But none of that registered. Her mind was still reeling from the Baran storm. With every step she took Amara worried if she was going to wind up stepping into someone else's memories again.

Eventually, the group took a turn to what appeared to be a dead end. Naturally, the wall shifted and dissolved, leaving an oblong gateway to another room with long benches and cushions waiting. The group flowed in, with Amara making a beeline for a particularly big cushion squashed into the far corner. The other initiates huddled together, whispering about their ordeal, making predictions and speculations. Amara made no attempt to join in. Her capacity for meaningful social interaction had fizzled to zero over the last half hour. All she wanted now was to re-charge before being swamped in more faces and voices.

As the minutes passed, Amara noticed that the walls were emitting a soft pulsing green light. She smiled to herself, knowing the choice of lighting was done to help calm down the initiates after their demanding experience. Still, she thought, the only thing that'll reassure me is finding out who I'm working with.

Glancing around didn't fill her with much excitement. Everyone in the room was about her age, for sure, but most had already bunched off into groups of their own. Amara felt a pang of dissatisfaction but quickly pushed it aside. She hoped the people she was sharing the room with got a match-up that suited them. Right now, the only person she knew was...

"Right behind you." Tia said. Turning back, Amara could see her friend standing behind her, a bleary smile plastered on her face.

"Well, that was..." Tia continued blinking hard. "That." Amara shuffled to the side and let Tia flump down on to the cushion with her.

"You reckon I did a good show?" Tia asked.

"You were the ship going through the void port."

"yeah"

"You'll be fine. That wasn't embarrassing or anything was it?"

"Oh alright." Tia said. She sighed, apparently satisfied with her lot. Amara wondered what she had seen, what the others had seen. A Baran was the sum total of a person's experiences; in combining them together each initiate had allowed their peers a glimpse into who they were. Nothing much. Just an image seen through a keyhole. But enough to go on.

"Enough to start making assumptions. Making Judgements." Amara winced, as her doubts made themselves known again. She pushed them aside best she could, fidgeting with a loose curl of hair as she stared at the softly pulsating walls - trying to lose herself the way she had lost herself back in the entrance hall.  

Her daze was interrupted by the sound of the entrance opening again. Stepping through was the red-robed man. His eyes were black as ever, though they weren't intensely gazing like before. Instead the seemed unfocused, as if his mind was someplace else. Drawing himself up to his full height, he said.

"Thank you for your patience." Amara was surprised at how melodious his voice was, considering the roughness of his face. "Our results have been tallied. You may come through."

He then turned without a second word, leaving an open wall behind him. Not wanting to stew in her worry any longer, Amara shot up and headed after him, Tia trailing alongside.

"Would it kill him to wait?" Tia asked as they turned down the hallway.

"All part of the new emphasis on self-sufficiency, I guess." Amara replied.

Tia snorted "I don't care how much they pound into my head, I'm never finding my way around here."

Amara chuckled, but she could see her point. Now her mind had been sharpened by anticipation, their surroundings seemed much more vibrant. The walls appeared to shimmer somehow- rippling under the light above like fish scales. Every so often, the shape of a doorway in either wall would suddenly flit into Amara's line of vision only to flit out again, in an instant. She didn't even realize she had walked through an arch until a whole new room seemed to blossom right in front of her.

This space was much airier than the darkened hall. Light flited in through rectangular windows, becoming prismatic as it went through the glass. Scholars came down stair cases in the four corners of the room, the light from the windows dancing on the muted colours of their robes. At the far end of the room was a fountain, comprised of five interlocking dragon heads that intertwined and rose as one single point like some bizarre flower. Seated around this fountain was Miss Amaharan and the red-robed man- both of them locked in what appeared to be an intense conversation.

Determined to get this over with Amara strode down the room, vaguely aware that she had actually become the leader of their little troupe. Noticing them, Amaharan immediately dipped out of her conversation and resumed her warm smile. Getting up, she raised her hands in a celebratory manner and began to speak.

"Initiates! What a performance from you all. But enough anticipation, let's see the fruits of your labours!"

She snapped her fingers. Immediately the flow of water coming from the dragon heads ceased. There was a pause, followed by a faint rumble of hidden machinery. Then five beams of light shot up from the heads, projecting several tables on to the wall, in which were displayed the names of the initiates, four to a cube.  

Instantly Amara's eyes began darting over each box of names. She was going so fast that the writing seemed to be just lines punctuated by the occasional circle. Slowing herself down, she forced herself to take in one table at a time. Eventually she found it; on the furthest set to the left. Her name directly on top- one circle flanked by two diagonal lines. And beneath that...

Amara sunk into her relief like a hot bath, the release of tension so great that even Tia's excited nudges felt like they were happening to someone else. Underneath her name was Tia's- two vertical lines followed by a horizontal and a diagonal. Amara quickly glanced at the other two underneath, but realized she didn't know them. Didn't bother her much. Just having one person she knew along with her for this job was enough to make her hope she had a chance. Or at least someone to catch her should she fail.

"Alright" Miss Amaharan said, apparently content with the level and duration of her students' chattering. "Now you understand who you're working with, may I ask you to kindly follow our inspector up the stairs. She shall escort you to your respective workspace."

The inspector- who had somehow appeared at the foot of the stairs in the far left of the room- gave a sharp jerk of her head, imploring the initiates to follow her lead. Amara and Tia began walking, but were stopped by a Baran very deliberately brushing against their minds.

Turning around, they could see miss Amaharan standing, an affectionate half-smile playing on her aged features.

"Sorry if I was a bit rough. Age makes handling one's baran quite strenuous." She explained. She then grimaced slightly and sat down on the fountain's side.

"Oh, look at me." Amaharan continued. "I'm your teacher. I should be doing more than just stating the obvious."

In response, Amara gave a polite chuckle, doing her best to ignore the growing drum-beat of concern pounding in the back of her head.

"I imagine that comes with the territory." Tia said, causing Amara's drumbeat of panic to evolve into a full-grown marching band at the prospect of her best friend pissing off one of the few adults in this entire academy whom she was sure was looking out for her.

Thankfully, miss Amaharan's response was a happy little cackle and a nod of approval. "That and more besides!" She exclaimed. "Speaking of which..."

She reached inside her robe and pulled out two pieces of paper. On them was the sigil of the house of the five waters- a circle separated by two diagonal lines and another running down the middle.

"Hold out your arms please." She said to both girls. They did so as Amaharan placed both pieces of paper on to their forearms. Instantly they began to smoke and Amara had to suppress a yelp as the sigils on them appeared to burn on to her skin before disappearing completely.

"Just a minor upgrade." Amaharan explained to Amara and Tia, who was tentatively prodding the space where the sigil had been with a concerned expression on her face. "The other students will receive it when they get to their workplaces. You can access the academy in its entirety now."

She gestured the pair to look around their surroundings, which they promptly did. The change was remarkable. Doorways she had half-glimpsed now stood clear as day. Every colour seemed crisper, every line more defined. Yet despite the dramatic increase in focus, Amara noticed that if her eyes stayed too long on one surface she began to see through it. Glancing down, she glimpsed corridors snaking through boxed-off rooms in the level beneath the floor.

"Disorientating, I know." Amaharan noted, looking down with Amara. "But you'll get used to it soon enough. Plus, keep looking long enough and you'll find some interesting ways around."

She pointed to a space nestled near the north-east stairway. After a moment's staring, Amara glimpsed another doorway wedged there- flickering in and out of her vision like a candle flame.

"Go through that door, follow the path, first door you come across will lead you to your workspace." Amaharan said brusquely. She then gave one more look to the two pupils.

"Good luck" She wished. With that the elderly teacher did a small jump backwards. Instead of landing back on the floor, she sunk right through it, as if the stone was no more substantial than water.

Tia and Amara stood there for a second, trying to process fully what they had seen. Realizing that they were standing around when they should be getting along, Amara decided to break the silence.

"Well I guess she wasn't kidding when she was talking about those interesting ways around." She joked.

"Yeah..." Tia replied uncertainly, eyes darting across the floor. She felt Amara staring so quickly looked up with a smile. "Lead the way."

Amara did, stepping forward to the flickering doorway. Turning around she noticed Tia hopping on exactly the same spots she had walked on. Rolling her eyes, Amara pushed forward through the door and stepped right through.

[sulietsexual]

veronica lodge - riverdale / spencer hastings - pll

Veronica Lodge:

Why I like them: Veronica is fierce and loyal, she goes to bat for those she loves and stands up to people who have wronged her and others. She’s exciting and a little dangerous and she knows who she is and tries her best to be her best self.

Why I don’t: Her Season 2 path took her down a dark road and she made some decisions and choices which I didn’t like.

Favorite episode (scene if movie): La Grande Illusion, A Kiss Before Dying, Brave New World

Favorite season/movie: Season 1

Favorite line: “You know what happens to a snake when a Louis Vuitton heel steps on it? Shut the hell up, or you’ll find out.”

Favorite outfit: Pretty much everything she wears, I adore Veronica’s wardrobe.

OTP: Archie and Cheryl

Brotp: Kevin

Head Canon: She’s bi and had feelings for Cheryl at one point in time

Unpopular opinion: I think just liking Veronica over Betty is unpopular

A wish: I just want her to be happy and to get away from her god-awful parents.

An oh-god-please-dont-ever-happen: NO LOVE TRIANGLE BETWEEN HER, ARCHIE AND BETTY

5 words to best describe them: Cunning, ruthless, intelligent, loyal, loving

My nickname for them: Ronnie

Spencer Hastings

Why I like them: Spencer is intelligent, loyal, extremely ruthless, ambitious and very caring.

Why I don’t: She can be a bully and she is way too stubborn at times.

Favorite episode (scene if movie): For Whom The Bell Tolls, Je Suis Une Amie, This Is A Dark Ride

Favorite season/movie: Season 1

Favorite line: (To Aria) “You’re little. But you’re big.”

Favorite outfit: Love her Halloween costume in This Is A Dark Ride. 

OTP: I guess Toby but that gets a bit iffy after Season 3.

Brotp: The Liars

Head Canon: Before the show went to pot, I always assumed that Spencer knew something more than she was letting on about the night Ali disappeared.

Unpopular opinion: I don’t ship her and Toby as much after Toby joined the A Team

A wish: Gah, so many wishes when it comes to PLL, but with Spencer specifically, I wish they’d never introduced the pill storyline, it felt sloppy and out of place

An oh-god-please-dont-ever-happen: Eh, don’t have one.

5 words to best describe them: Ruthless, intelligent, ambitious, stubborn, loyal

My nickname for them: Don’t have one

[hegemoneapple]

Basilisk Eyes: Chapter 46: Apologies

Crossposted: Basilisk Eyes by Hegemone | Completed: Chapter 46 out of 157 | T | AO3 | FFN | WATT | HPFF

Just admitting out loud to a group of, well, not strangers exactly, but new acquaintances that he wanted to trust the Center took a toll and Harry broke out in a sweat that prickled under his arms. He tensed for a second waiting for the backlash from his peers. When nothing happened he hurriedly passed the staff to Gemma, remembering at the last second that he was supposed to say what he was doing so Aminah would know, “I’m passing the staff to Gemma,” he added in a rush. 

He admonished himself for opening up so easily. There was something about this place and Healer Jordan. 

Archimedea—who names their child Archimedea?—wixen—no wonder she goes by Jordan—I thought Jordan was her first name—like Healer Andy, he thought.

He felt really good about the Center and that’s why he was inclined to trust it. But trusting was scary and even more so was saying so. Out loud. To people. People who had violent outbursts. 

Why did I do it?

The bells tinkled as Gemma took the talking stick from Harry’s hand and then stopped. Harry imagined she held the stick between her knees as she signed.

“I’m Gemma Boot and I’m glad to be here and to be making new friends who don’t shut me out because I can’t hear and who don’t cringe and turn away because of my scars.” 

Her magical voice said all these things without emotion, but Harry knew that there was emotion behind the words. He wondered if he would have turned away from her scars if he’d been able to see them or shut her out because she couldn’t hear if he had met her before he was in the same boat. His first impulse was to deny that he would have been so cruel, but then he had to admit to himself that he didn’t know. 

I wouldn’t do it knowingly, he acknowledged, but what about unconsciously? I might not have even noticed her. 

But then he reminded himself that he did tend to notice the kids on the fringe because that’s where he usually was. Though sometimes he was so caught up in his own stuff that he didn’t notice what was going on in other people’s lives. 

Gah. This talking about feelings stuff is worse than venturing into the Forbidden Forest. 

Harry’s skin felt clammy.

“I’m passing the talking stick to Aminah,” Gemma continued. 

The bells rang gently as it was passed.

“Thank you,” Aminah said.

Harry leaned forward in an effort to hear her. 

“I’m Aminah Khan. I’m going to try to … trust the Center… and this process,” she said quietly. “I’m passing the stick to Mei.” 

The bells rang quietly. They were silent for a second, then they rang gently again. “Mei, would you please take the talking stick from Aminah,” Healer Jordan pressed.

The gentle tinkle of the bells became violent as if they were being shaken hard. Harry sat back and heard Aminah’s feet shift on the rocky terrain.

“Mei, you can do this. It’ll be okay,” Healer Jordan encouraged.

Mei let out a big sigh and then gulped in a breath.

“You know that I’m Mei Lee. Obviously, I don’t want to be here. I don’t want to have a fishtail. I don’t like this body that I’m in. I can’t live in the ocean and I can only live a half-life on the land—using a stupid muggle wheelchair because my Jiāorén magic clashes with my witch magic. I didn’t ask for any of this!”

She was shouting by the end of it. Her pain was palpable—it emanated in waves that crashed against the small group. Harry recoiled. He felt his staff in his pocket respond to it as if he were being stung by a stinging hex. He grabbed his thigh and cried out. Aminah shrieked and next to him he heard another explosion and Tony fell off his tree stump, careening into Harry.

Healer Jordan jumped up and cast a protection spell, “Protego!” and the sparking in his pocket stopped. Harry twisted and helped Tony get to his feet by leaning against him and putting his arm across Tony’s broad back and grasping him by his torso, just underneath his armpits. Tony was quite a bit bigger than he was and heavy, so Harry was just able to support him. His hands had passed over what he realized must be the remnants of Tony’s arms, stumps that contained bones and muscles, rotating within his shoulders as if they were trying to reach out, but too short to be effective. 

“Sorry,” Harry uttered when he realized what he was touching. When he felt Tony get his feet back under him and start to stand up, he let go. 

“Thanks, man,” Tony muttered.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” Mei was yelling—her voice sounded like it was trapped under a glass.

“Mei, it is okay,” Healer Jordan consoled. She was going around the circle and checking in with everyone to see if they were okay and collecting the staffs and wands from the teens. She explained that she’d put them at a safe distance from the discussion and give them back when they were done. Harry listened as she walked several feet away and heard the clatter of the wooden objects on a bench on the outer circle. When she got back to her spot, she sat down.

“Mei, is this what happened on the bench earlier?” Healer Jordan asked.

Harry wasn’t aware of his staff sparking before, but remembered the sting on his thigh. He was going to speak up, but closed his mouth when he remembered that Mei still had the talking stick and waited patiently.

“Yes, I was mad because Tony sat down next to me when there wasn’t enough room on the bench and he must have a wand in his pocket because there was an explosion and it burned my fin.” Mei’s voice was still coming from behind the shield spell, though it sounded like her anger had quelled.

“There was enough room!” Tony interjected. “How was I supposed to know that you’d set off my wand?”

“Tony, would you like the talking stick? Can you use I statements, please?” Healer Jordan patiently reminded Tony of the norms she had laid out earlier.

“I was,” Tony grumbled under his breath. Harry was pretty sure he was the only one who heard it, but then the paper fluttered.

“This is a good time to remember that everyone is trying to do their best,” Healer Jordan prompted.

Harry heard the tattletale bells on the talking stick. Healer Jordan narrated, “Mei is passing the talking stick to me, and I’m passing it to Tony,” as the bells traveled from Mei to Tony.

“Tony, please tell us what happened from your perspective,” Healer Jordan asked.

“I arrived late and saw that all my roommates were sitting together, so I thought I should sit with them and the only spot was a gap between Mei and Gemma, so I sat there. Gemma moved over to let me sit, but Mei scooted toward me instead of away. Harry and Aminah made room for me, too, and Gemma scooted farther away, but every time there was extra room it felt like Mei took it instead of letting me sit. So, finally I just sat before she could take up the room and that’s when the explosion happened and the bench fell over. She did it on purpose to embarrass me. And then she called me an armless… ” Tony trailed off, but Harry remembered and his mind supplied, “wanker,” unwittingly.  It seemed especially cutting and mean-spirited with the feeling of Tony’s amputated arms fresh in his memory.

“Tony, while you may feel you know why someone did something, no one can really know except the person who did it. Let’s keep our statements to the facts that we know and allow others to inform us of their motivation for their actions.” Healer Jordan’s voice was steady.

“I was telling you there wasn’t room and to sit somewhere else and you refused to listen and just sat down anyway!” Mei shouted.

“Please use the talking stick, Mei,” Healer Jordan reminded.

“You can shove it up your… ” Mei stopped herself before she finished, apparently appalling even herself. 

“Sorry,” she muttered.

“Thank you,” Healer Jordan acknowledged the apology in a terse tone.

“You can give her the talking stick, Healer Jordan,” Tony suggested and Harry heard the tinkling bells as it was transferred to Mei.

“Here, Mei. Can you state what happened from your perspective?” Healer Jordan encouraged.

“I didn’t want him to sit there, so I moved over so he couldn’t when I felt like he wasn’t listening to me. I’m sorry that I accidentally caused an explosion that made the bench fall over.” 

“Can I have the talking stick, please?” Tony asked, his voice low. 

It was passed and he said, “I’m sorry that I budged in. I just wanted to feel like I belonged. I’m sorry that the bench fell over and that you all were hurt.” His apology seemed heartfelt.

Harry breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe they could go soon.

Gemma’s magic voice asked, “May I have the talking stick, please?”

“Sure,” said Tony.

Harry realized that it was up to him to pass it and he reached out for it again, and Tony verbally guided him until he found it and he passed it to Gemma.

“Thanks,” Gemma acknowledged. “I’m sorry, too. I should have realized what was going on, but I could only understand Mei’s side of the conversation. I should have offered you the spot between me and Harry,” Gemma’s voice was almost mechanical in its emotionless aspect, but her words conveyed her feelings.

“May I have the talking stick, Gemma?” Aminah asked.

“Sure, here it is.” 

“Thank you, Tony, for your apology and you, too, Mei,” Aminah said. “I’m concerned, though, that Mei’s magic is so out of control and we’re roommates. Will this happen every time she gets angry?  ‘Cause my staff got hot when she shouted earlier and it was sparking when the bench fell over. And I need my staff to get around, I can’t just quarantine it while Mei’s near me.” 

“Aminah, can you direct your question to Mei instead of asking about her?” Healer Jordan encouraged.

“Oh, yeah. Sorry.” Aminah sounded embarrassed. “Mei, is there anything you can do to make sure this doesn’t happen again?”

Harry heard the bells and knew that Aminah had passed the stick to Mei.

“Um, yeah. I dunno. Leave the Center?” Mei said.

“Mei, what are some other options?” Healer Jordan suggested.

“I really don’t know,” Mei sounded defeated and sad. “I mean, this is why I’m here because I keep having these outbursts and I can’t be around magic things, even my broom channels my mermaid magic strangely. I was hoping that I’d learn some ways to control it.”

“That’s good, Mei. That’s what we’re going to try to do. What can you do about it in the meantime?”

“I can try not to get so angry, I guess.” Mei conceded.

“It isn’t that you shouldn’t get angry—right? Because that’s just how you are feeling. That’s an emotion—it happens. It is what you’re doing with that emotional energy that is hurting the people around you and yourself.  What are some of the strategies we discussed earlier?” Healer Jordan asked.

“Counting to ten, breathing, leaving an area until I calm down… ” Mei listed mechanically.

“Mei, can I have the talking stick?” Tony asked.

“Okay,” Mei responded. It tinkled as it was passed and set between Tony’s legs.

“Mei, I didn’t know about your accidental magic issues. That’s rough. I think the hardest thing for me about losing my arms is not what is so obvious— that everyone is pitying me about—like not being able to feed myself, go to the bathroom, get dressed, pick up something, but that I can’t even use my wand so that I can do these things with magic. I think it would be hard to have to stay away from anything magical. It’s like a double whammy.” Tony’s tone was filled with an empathy that Harry didn’t expect from the Slytherin.

Harry wanted to add something… but he didn’t know what. He was having a hard time finding the words.

Healer Jordan asked if anyone else wanted the talking stick. Harry hedged and then the opportunity was gone.

“Okay, I want to commend you all for your good work today finding a constructive way to talk about the events of this afternoon. We’ll have many more opportunities for discussions like this. You have the rest of the day to relax and take care of your needs.”

“Healer Jordan, what time is tea served?” Aminah asked.

“Oh, it’s served at 3 pm,” Healer Jordan said over her shoulder. She must have been walking toward the bench where she had put the wands and staves. She returned them to Tony, Aminah and Harry. Harry ran his hands over his and wondered if he’d be able to tell it apart from Aminah’s.

He shook it out and summoned his bottle of water—when he felt the familiar shape of the bottle in his hand, he knew he had the right staff. He took a sip of water and thought about what he wanted to do for the rest of the day. 

It’d be nice to sleep some more… 

Gemma came over and asked him, “Do you want to go back to th… ” but her words were cut off mid-sentence. Harry furrowed his brow and waited for a bit, thinking that she had been distracted by something she saw, but then her hand was on his arm, pulling his palm up, so she could write on it. She drew a question mark. 

“Why did you stop talking?” Harry asked. 

“S-O-R-R-Y” space “H. -J-O-R-D-A-N” space “G-O-N-E” space “S-P-E-L-L” space “E-N-D-E-D” Her spelling in his hand felt sad and lackluster.

“Oh well. It was nice while it lasted,” Harry shrugged. “Yes, let’s go back to the dorm.”

[mx-requests-forum]

[Fulfilled] Charming the Ice Prince

Prompt: changki + high school and xmas theme. Kihyun wants to confess to his stoic, cool junior, Changkyun, but he seems he doesn't feel the same way, so he decides not do it + Changkyun ends up confessing to Kihyun

Fulfilled by Moderator M~

Words: 1285

AO3 Link

Kihyun had a bit of a predicament: he had a crush on his friend and junior, Im Changkyun. The feisty kid had confidence in his romantic prowess most of the time, but with Changkyun, he seriously couldn’t tell if the younger liked him or not. He was an enigma to Kihyun- his dry humor and expressionless stares threw him off his game more often than he liked admitting, and as a self-proclaimed romantic, this was unheard of.

Today was going to be different than all his other attempts at confessing to Changkyun, however, because this time, he promised himself that he’d actually go through with it, regardless of how intimidatingly serious Changkyun looked at him. Before classes started was a pretty good window of opportunity for his fifth attempt, and Kihyun walked over to Changkyun’s locker, approaching him with a confident gait and a tiny letter clenched in his slight sweaty palm.

Kihyun cleared his throat, trying to attract Changkyun’s attention while the younger boy was getting books out of his locker. Having seen his nervous approach several seconds ago, Changkyun softly chuckled, eyes flashing over to look over at Kihyun as the boy finally got close to him.

“So… Changkyunnie,” Kihyun began, voice trembling despite his assured expression. Changkyun nodded, turning to look over at Kihyun, eyes serious and mouth set in an unwavering line. He glanced down, noticing that Kihyun had his hands behind his back. Quirking a brow, Changkyun turned back to his locker, grabbing one last book as he spoke.

“Whatcha got behind your back, hyung?” Changkyun asked, and Kihyun froze on the spot, body stiffening as he clearly panicked from the unexpected question. Quickly shoving the letter in his pocket and displaying his, recently emptied, hands, Kihyun laughed, the sound nervous and strained.

“N-nothing! Haha, what’s gotten into you?” Kihyun asked, a flush rising to his cheeks. Gah, he couldn’t read Changkyun at all. Changkyun merely nodded, the motion about as noncommittal as he could muster, throwing off Kihyun even more.

“What’s gotten into you, hyung?” Changkyun asked, tone deep and blank as he slammed his locker door shut, leaning against it as he directed his gaze back to Kihyun. “You’ve been doing this for a few days now, I’m curious to find out what you’ve wanting so desperately to show me~” Changkyun added, chuckling as Kihyun visibly flustered, his eyes flickering around the crowded hallway. Too put on the spot to go back to his plan, Kihyun mentally gave up on trying, knowing that when the time was right, he would finally get Changkyun right where he wanted him.

“Nothing, of course,” Kihyun argued, licking his lips and adjusting his bag, already planning how to flee from the scene. “I was just gonna ask you if you were excited about Winter break, since it officially starts tomorrow and all, haha,” Kihyun said, terribly and obviously lying. Changkyun nodded, and they both began walking down the hall, as their classes were in the same direction.

“Yeah, I am,” Changkyun replied, voice airy and light. Kihyun nodded, prompting him to further elaborate. “I have something special planned for somebody later today that I think is going to make my break a lot of fun,” Changkyun mysteriously continued, and Kihyun felt a strange pang of jealousy rise up in his chest. The worry that he was about to miss his opportunity to ask out his crush was weighing on Kihyun, and he frowned, biting his lip.

“Who is this special person?” Kihyun asked, awkwardly chuckling in a weak attempt to appear casual and chill. Changkyun smiled, the curve small and mysterious.

“You’ll find out very soon, hyung,” Changkyun merely replied, his dark eyes flickering with something ominous and mysterious. Kihyun swallowed, his throat feeling dry all of a sudden. “Going to class now, I’ll talk to you after class,” Changkyun said, giving a short wave and a smile as he walked into his first-period class. Kihyun couldn’t even manage a wave in reply before Changkyun was already out of sight, his mind barely able to keep up with him.

“After class…” Kihyun mumbled to himself, moving his heavy limbs to his class. He’d figure out this mystery in just a few short hours… hopefully.

Classes past at a snail’s pace, like usual, only today it seemed especially hard to make it through his daily routine. But finally, they were over, and Kihyun headed to his usual meet up spot with Changkyun, noticing that the boy was already there, leaned against the tree. Kihyun walked up to him, a skip in his step despite his slight trepidation.

“Hi, Changkyun- how were classes?” Kihyun asked, trying to keep the conversation light, The love letter was burning a hole in his pocket, however, reminding him that he needed to act fast before he lost his chance with Changkyun. Nodding in acknowledgement, Changkyun took off his backpack, staring up into Kihyun’s face with a remarkably blank expression.

“They were slow, boring,” Changkyun replied, and Kihyun nodded in understanding.

“Mine too,” Kihyun replied, and then a thick silence passed over the two. Swallowing nervously, Kihyun smiled, mostly a habit at this point. He didn’t know what to say to confess to Changkyun, and right now… he was worried he wasn’t going to be able to muster up the nerve to do it anyway.

“Kihyun, do you want to go out with me?” Changkyun said, voice finally holding a fragment of emotion in them. Those words rang in Kihyun’s ears like a bell tolling, and he looked into Changkyun’s eyes, surprised to see a small, genuine smile on his face. He flustered, eyes darting around the school courtyard, briefly pondering the possibility that Changkyun was only messing with him.

“Um, I…” Kihyun replied, pursing his lips. Changkyun reached his hand out, grabbing a hold of Kihyun’s.

“Hand me that note in your pocket, hyung,” Changkyun calmly requested, and Kihyun swallowed nervously, unsure of where this was going. He handed Changkyun the crumpled up letter, cheeks on fire as he watches Changkyun finally read it.

“It says, ‘I’ve had feelings for you for quite some time now, Changkyun-ah. I wanted to ask you to come with me to watch the Christmas fireworks this weekend, but couldn’t figure out how to say it in words, so I wrote it in a letter. Would you come with me?’,” Changkyun said, reading the note verbatim. Kihyun flushed, his cheeks burning with embarrassment, eyes flickering down to the ground. “It took you this long to ask me this?” Changkyun asked.

“Y-yeah,” Kihyun says, clearing his throat nervously. He still couldn’t tell if Changkyun was fucking with him or not, and avoided his eyes.

“Well, I accept your invitation for a date,” Changkyun said, and, when Kihyun looked up, he was shocked to see how rosy Changkyun’s cheeks had become. Overwhelmed with happiness, Kihyun broke out into a huge smile, stepping closer to Changkyun and feeling a freezing gust of wind.

“So… come pick me up at 7, okay?” Changkyun concluded, leaning his chin up to place a chaste kiss against Kihyun’s cheek, and then promptly scurrying away. Watching him leave, Kihyun pressed a finger to the spot where Changkyun had kissed him, his eyes filled with hearts. Finally- he got to ask Changkyun out! Er… maybe Changkyun was kinda the one who asked him out, but that didn’t matter!

“I will! And make sure you dress warmly!” Kihyun called out, chuckling as he watches Changkyun wave in acknowledgment. Kihyun smiled, and then pressed his back against the tree trunk, the bite of the cold air not even fazing him anymore. This was going to be a great Christmas, he just knew it! <3

[brightstarblogs]

Pandora Park AU Part 2

(This is a re write of Pandora Hearts (Jun Mochizuki) with the South Park (Matt stone & Trey Parker) characters, I don’t own any either of these. I hope you enjoy it)

A faint music box melody broke through the darkness that surrounded the huge expanse of water. It disturbed the boy floating a few feet above the water surface. He turned his head towards where he had heard the source of the music and listened intently, it seemed very familiar to him but he couldn’t recall where. 

“What a familiar melody. Is it calling me?” the boy uttered as he put the soles of his shoes to the surface of the water and began walking towards the source of the music. He knew it would lead him somewhere important.

Tweek entered the room to greet his guests. Immediately he spotted the back of Uncle Thomas ginger hair and jogged over to him. “Unc-” He stopped when he noticed that his uncle was not alone. Talking to him was a young girl with long black hair wearing a beautiful purple dress and yellow dress shoes.

“Ahh, Tweek, sorry I didn’t see you. Let me introduce you to someone. This is the grand-daughter of duchess Testaburger, Lady Wendy Testaburger.” Tweek suddenly became very shy. He was used to talking to Mrs Red and his little sister Heidi, but with other girls he would instantly freeze. 

“Pleased to make your acquaintance, Sir Tweek.” “Gahhh, yes, err, will you be attending the party as well?” Wendy shock her head “No, my mother is the one who should be here, but because she fell ill yesterday as her daughter, I have come on her behalf to apologize for her absence. I do wish I could attended in her place but I have yet to turn 15.”

Tweek was shocked when he heard that Wendy was younger than him, she seemed like she was at least as old as him, her speech was so much more sophisticated than his own. Tweek then saw his sister next to his Uncle, she was pouting. 

“Heidi sulking as she can’t attend the party either.” Thomas said, chuckling a little. Wendy smiled at Heidi before she turned back to Tweek “Sir Tweek, I shall be 15 in two years’ time, please do dance with me then.”

Tweek really wondered how he should respond “what would Clyde do in this situation, he’s so much better at talking to girls then me.” with a vague idea of what to say, Tweek blurted out the first thing that came into him head. “S-Sure thing babe.” Tweek instantly regretted his decision. Thomas just face palmed. Fortunately Wendy just smiled and laughed a little thinking it was just a joke 

“Well, since the party is about to begin I regret to say I must take my leave for today. Congratulations on your 15 birthday from the bottom of my heart, Sir Tweek.” As she grabbed his hand Tweek’s blush grew a shade darker “Gah..” “From this day forward, you will have the right to attend society functions so many people will approach you. Some will do so because of your enormous wealth, others to benefit from the unknown powers of a dukedom.” Wendy’s face turned serious “And everybody will see your father in you.” 

Thomas at that moment tried to interrupt the conversation as he knew how uncomfortable Tweek’s father made Tweek feel, but Wendy continued with a smile on her face “so, please do not forget those who have always stood by your side and supported you.” She let go of Tweek’s hand and turned to leave “if you do not fail to keep them in mind you shall never lose yourself.”

Wendy walked towards the door and nodded to the man standing there who nodded back. This man stared at Tweek, his black hair covering his left eye. Tweek was a little confused as to why this man had a small towel with eyes on his shoulder and wearing a red puff ball hat inside, but he was more drawn aback to the colour of his right eye. It was the deepest blue he’d ever seen, it looked as if it was glowing. The man bowed his head to Tweek before leaving with Wendy.

Tweek turned around to his uncle who had a worried face. “Uncle remind me to nugh never use one of Clyde’s chat up lines again.” Thomas face tuned into a huge smile “I’m more concerned you need to be told that in the first place, seriously what were you thinking.” “I panicked, it just slipped out!” Thomas calmed a little before holding his hand out “Anyway, it’s time Tweek, Lets go.” Tweek nervously smiled before taking his uncle’s hand. The ceremony was starting.

Wendy looked over at her servant as there carriage headed back to the Testaburger estate. “Tweek Tweak, What did you think of him?” Her servant smiled “Well, He’s the type of baby face boy that suites your tastes, my lady, so you two are well matched.” He smirked into his sleeve. “What are you talking about” Wendy then realised she’d just gotten too worked up due to his teasing and cleared he throat before she continued. “as successor to the Tweak house, his fate is to eventually come over to our side, so you may very well end up being more involved with him then I.” “Yes that does seem to be most likely!” the man laughed again, still enjoying his previous joke.

Just then he looked up into the sky “Oh dear” “Yes?” “It’s begun to rain. Perhaps this will turn out to be a storm?”

Tweek kneeled before his uncle in the ceremony hall. Thomas put the sword on both his shoulders before continuing on with the ceremony, Tweek trying his best not to shake to hard as he normally would as he didn’t want to accidently cause his uncle to stab him. “With this baptismal sword the impurities in thy flesh have been expunged.” Thomas then motioned his head to signal Tweek to go to the clock tower at the end of the hall.

Tweek got up and started to walk, hearing only his heartbeat and the faint ticking of the pocket watch. He had yet to ask his uncle about it, but he had more important stuff on his mind. “The ‘clock tower of silence’. If I state my vows before it this nightmare of a ceremony will be over.” 

Tweek then saw as he got to the top of the a familiar face wearing the robes he’d given him a few hours earlier. The smiling face of Clyde calmed nerves that had been telling Tweek to run. “I’m so glad he came!”

“Are you in complete control of that black haired brat Dos?” “I’m using Duldum to manipulate him. We need him to open up a ‘Path’.” “Make sure Duldum doesn’t go berserk.” “I told you, I have it under control!” 

“Before the ancient clock that ceased ticking 100 years ago, the actor is taking the stage referenced in the prophecies.” “Now, Let the countdown begin!”

Tweek kneeled before the clock and recited his vows. “Until the day when Gah the crimson heartbeat of this body falls silent, I shall continue to protect the name and pride of Tweak. This I now vow upon this land and my friends.”

DONG!

The clock suddenly rang out for all to hear. Everyone was stunned. The clock was broken, and was never meant to ring again. 

“When the one whom we await descends upon the promised land the bell will toll and break the silence. There is no mistake, he is THE ONE!!!”

Tweek didn’t know what to do. This wasn’t supposed to happen “I knew this was a bad idea, It’s way too much pressure for me. Why do I always have to mess things up.” He looked at Thomas for help but for some reason the entire room was now vacant. He then heard a voice, one he had heard earlier that day.

“A ‘Path��� is about to open up.” Tweek looked behind him to see a boy, a boy wearing a blue chullo and blue frock coat. the same boy who has strangled him after he touched the pocket watch. “I came because the melody lured me here, and I can smell the crimson reapers.” Tweek didn’t know why the boy was here, or what he was talking about, he could only stare in shock. “They’re coming.” the boy smirked before disappearing again.

Suddenly Tweek was surrounded by multiple people all wearing red capes.

Tweek was about to run when someone’s arm went around his neck, causing him to fall back and lose his footing. He looked up to see Clyde. His face had an expression Tweek had never seen him wear, no hint of good was in that smile. 

One of the hooded figure spoke “The one for whom we have been waiting has appeared, and the bell has tolled. The next thing we must do is…” Tweek was then stabbed in the chest by Clyde. Tweek stayed frozen, all he could do was stare at his chest, unable to comprehend what was happening. The hooded figure continued “The blade of a friend glitters crimson and the drops carve a path to the distant place. Now then, shall we move on to the judgement!?”

Tweek could hear Clyde behind him, slowly his laughing was becoming louder and his voice becoming more distorted “Your blood is different from that of other humans, it smells delicious..” Tweek only had one thing going through his mind “I DON’T UNDERSTAND, WHAT IN THE WORLD IS GOING ON!?” “I want to see MORE OF IT!!!” Clyde was now laughing uncontrollably as he raised his knife again and this time aimed for his eye.

Tweek shut his eyes to brace for the impact, but it never came. He opened his eyes to see that Clyde had been thrown across the room. The red caped figures had moved back and were looking above him. “And here I was just going to sit back and watch…”

Tweek saw a gloved hand touch his cheek and as it moved away it morphed into a huge claw. He turned round and saw the scariest site he’d seen all day.

A giant all black Guinea Pig with a blue chullo hat and frock coat was staring at him, a huge survival knife was in its right hand. This monsters spoke to Tweek “You’re really pathetic, aren’t you kid.” 

One of the hooded people spoke to the monster “Do you intend to interfere again? You Bloody Black Guinea Pig!!” The monster was now a human boy again. Standing behind Tweek he smirked putting his right foot on Tweeks shoulder, using him as a foot rest while he spoke. “How could you say that? I stopped that brat over there who went berserk.” Tweek looked to see Clyde, he was still breating but looked a little worse for wear. The boy above him continued his talk with the hooded figures. “This boy here is mine. Don’t you dare lay a hand on him, reapers.”

Tweek looked up and in the smallest voice he uttered “I’m….yours?” The boy looked down at him with his emotionless eyes before whispering so only Tweek could here “I made up my mind just now, hold your tongue.” The boy then looked back up to the others “If you’re going to kill him, I’ll do everything in my power to stop you.” The boy now put his arms around Tweek, embracing him tightly. Despite the situation he was in, Tweek was incredibly embarrassed and a light blush started to form, he wasn’t used to having his personal spaced invaded like this. “I won’t allow you to take what belongs to me.” His smirk crept back onto his face “but you don’t want to kill him, do you?”

At this point Clyde began to stir and had sat up, holding his head. He was back to normal now that the being that had possessed his body was gone. The boy that was hugging Tweek let go and also turned back into a monster, his voice now sounding more gruff “you lot are here to drop this kid into the Abyss, aren’t you?”

Tweek and Clyde looked horrified as they both remembered what Clyde had told Heidi earlier that day. “They say that a messenger from the Abyss visits those who have committed deadly sins, and takes them away to a terribly frightening place.” 

Tweek yelled at hard as he could “THIS HAS TO BE A TRICK! THAT’S ONLY A LEAGEND!” The monster behind him started to laugh. “Is that right. This kid’s coming to our side? What a joyous moment.” The monster was now firing chains with spikes on the ends at the figures. The figures were having a hard time dodging them. The monster was no longer talking as it entered battle mode.

Whilst it was distracted Clyde grabbed the cloak of the leader of the figures, Tweek saw this and called out to him “CLYDE!” Clyde didn’t acknowledge him as he started speaking to the leader. “Just what are you accusing young master of having done? THERE IS ABSOLUTELY NO REASON FOR YOU TO TAKE HIM AWAY!”

Tweek then saw the leader holding a sword and tried to warn Clyde “STOP IT CLYDE! HURRY UP AND GET AWAY!” but as the lightning and thunder struck Tweek’s plea fell on unheard ears. In the light of the flash, Clyde saw the face of the leader. Noticing this, the leader pulled his hood down more. Clyde looked shocked “You…are…” 

Tweek, desperate to help his friend saw the sword used in the ceremony on the floor and grabbed it. He leapt to his feet and ran toward the leader. He charged screaming “GET AWAY FROM CLYDE!” 

Clyde then did something that Tweek didn’t see in his blind rage, he protected the leader. “No young master, you mustn’t. This person is-!”

Tweek slashed Clyde across the chest.

Tweek looked up, snapping out of his rage, to see crimson splash onto Clyde’s clothes as Clyde fell to the ground. He wasn’t moving.

Tweek’s blood went ice cold and he shock the likes he never had before. “Cl….yde……w…wh…why…” Tweek dropped the sword and put his hands to his head. His mind was a wreck. “I…I….I..killed him..” Tweek made the most primal scream he could muster in his grief. Even the monster stopped fighting and a small hint of sadness went across its face.

Using this moment to his advantage, the leader cut the monster with his sword. The monster slowly began to fade. “Leave now, ghost of the Abyss.” The monster raised its middle finger to the leader as a sign of annoyance before shifting back to its human form.

The boy hugged the back of Tweek as he vanished, a small smile on his face “I’ll be waiting for you to come to our side. I’ve finally found my key..” and with that the boy completely disappeared.

Tweek felt broken and in no fit state to fight back when the hooded figures grabbed him. The leader spoke once more “Tweek Tweak. With my chain of condemnation I hereby pronounce judgment on you.”

“YOUR SIN IS YOUR VERY BEING!”

Tweek looked up to see a huge black winged bird. “Black wings are dragging me in.” Chains appeared all over Tweek’s body and pulled him down. His vision started to go black and he passed out….

To be continued…

Hey guys. Thank you so much for reading part 2. I hope you all enjoyed it. Apologies it’s a little late but I’ve been really busy this week. Also the amount of times I had to rewrite bits because the page refreshed was beyond annoying. Hopefully it won’t happen to much with part 3. As normal please feel free to ask me any questions and point out any errors that I may have missed. Hope you all have a pleasant day.

[emmybluefire]

Screams of a Titan

The world seemed... quiet today. On her walk to Stormwind the creatures of the world didn’t stir. No crickets, no birds, no wolves. No mooing from the cows as she passed the various farms in Elwynn, no distant bleating from the deer. Even the murder of ravens that resided within her tower were surprisingly sheepish. It was as if the world was bracing for something big. A calm... before the storm.

She felt it too. The hairs on the back of the young half elf’s neck stood on end, a prickling sensation creeping down the back of her neck, her spine... and down through her toes. The heartbeat of the world was hyper active today. Dangerously so. Azeroth... she sensed something coming from beyond the veil. Something big. It scared her. And whatever it was, it made Emmy paranoid. She found herself checking the sky, and the zone behind her much more than necessary. And each time she looked a surge of adrenaline pulsated through her, Ready to run, or fight, at any moment.

“Good morning Miss Bluefire!” a cheerful voice called to her, as she entered the bakery. Causing her to jump.

“Gah! ... O- Oh...” Emmy giggled nervously as her eyes fell upon the woman across the way. She was a young girl, not much older than sixteen, with dark raven hair and deep bronze skin. There were a few blemishes dotted across her face, but few took much away from the young girl’s fairness.

“Op! Miss Bluefire?!? did I scare you? I’m sorry...” the girl bit her lower lip, hazel eyes falling to the counter.

“I- It’s okay Susan.” Emmy beamed. “I’m just jumpy today... I suppose.”

That was all the reassurance the young woman needed. Her form erected back up, with a high, cheerful posture. “So... The usual then? Miss Bluefire? Or would you like to try our special?”

Emmy glanced behind her once more, towards the large oaken door. She lifted the basket at her hip onto the counter. “Um...” she paused, her eyes still trained on the outside. Though, through doors, and windows... there was nothing. It was a normal dawn. “I think I’ll take a bakers dozen of both. If you don’t mind.” she spoke flatly, her mind distant and unfocused.

“Are you okay Miss Bluefire?” asked the adolescent.

“Hm?” the half elf quickly shifted her cosmic gaze back. “Er...” she paused for a moment. No... she wasn’t okay. The leylines were acting up... and she didn’t know why. “Y-Yeah! I’m fine!” she lied, a fake smile stretching across her face. “Just uh- Thinking about stuff and thi-”

Her voice trailed off. Her eyes shifting around the room. Darkness, began to creep in around them. Through the windows... she sky was red. Black clouds rolling over the horizon. Susan noticed it too... her eyes wide, alight with fear. “What- ... is th-”

The environment didn’t give her a chance to finish, for outside... people began to stir, and scream. Emmy rushed out the door only to barrel into complete and utter chaos. People were panicking. Mothers clutched their crying babes to their breasts, families huddled together for assurance. The alarm bells tolled, and mortar shots could be heard blasting from the docks, and the keep, and children could be heard crying. People keeled down, groveling at the ground and uttering a final desperate prayer to the holy light.

But The Light would not save them now...

She didn’t want to know what was up there. She was too terrified. Her heart rapid, pulsating violently in her chest until it hurt... but she had to face it. Bravely, she lifted her head, each inch a challenge... one she struggled to overcome. But when she finally opened her eyes... her heart... stopped. It sank, her stomach did a loop in her abdomen... she felt sick. Starring back at her from the dark clouds above were the eyes of a monster. Eyes so large they filled the entire horizon. And beyond those clouds... the dark silhouette of horns, and the body of a monster. A titan.

The Fallen, Titan...

She’d never seen him before, but somehow.. she knew it had to be him. The Hero’s of Azeroth failed... this was it. This was the end of all things. All our hard work, all our dedication, every inch of progress we made in the last twelve thousand years... it was going to be undone in this moment. For what could a Dragon do against a Titan? Emmy collapsed to her knees, and awaited the final blow. Her eyes shut... ready. This was the end.

The very last thing she remembered, was agony. The earth groaned with it, trembling with a searing scream... one that echoed through the cosmos, or was it her mind? It couldn’t be. She was dead. Her head felt as though it had been split open... but then, there was nothing.

Her eyes opened to see that the sun had returned, and that the city was unscathed. But in the distance... she could see the silhouette of a titanic sword hilt... shrouded by cloud cover.

[bubblepunk99s]

Chapter four: The house of Five Waters

Lying before them was a bridge that branched across the canal. Curved like an arched back, the bridge was constructed of dark blue stone, permeated by lines of dully shimmering gold. The most eye-catching aspect of the construct, however, where the gates on either side. Two squat towers of the same blue stone marked the corners of either end of the bridge, upon which were engraved two serpents with golden scales that wrapped around them. Listening, both girls could hear the whirr of unseen wires and technology emitting from it, like the snoring of a sleeping beast.

"Urgh." Tia groaned. "Just looking at this thing is giving me the aches."

"You get the aches 'cause you keep your Baran on at full blast 24/7."

"I aim to live gracefully. You saying this thing doesn't give you any pain?"

Amara shrugged, but as they moved towards the bridge she couldn't deny the feeling of gnawing apprehension this construct gave her. She could taste its power in the air as a sharp metallic tang on her lips and a crackling sensation on her skin. The space between the two block-towers was bizarre to look at, as if a veil of malformed glass had been strung up there. Staring at it for too long before had made her eyes smart all day, so Amara made a point of not looking.

"Alright, let's get this done with." Tia said. With that she made for the right tower while Amara positioned herself in front of the left one. In unison, the two held their bare wrists upwards until they were level with the serpents on their respective sides. Instantly, there was a faint click and a beam of light shot out from the serpents' eyes, onto the girls' exposed skin. Amara winced slightly as the light made contact, but the serpents' check-up was done in a few seconds. They snapped back into their stationary states, while the veil between the two towers began to change. Much like Amara's mirror back home, it started coruscating until it settled as a smooth sliver-like surface, obscuring the bridge behind it.

"Dammit." Tia said as she strode to Amara, glaring at her wrist. "Got burnt again."

"Probably didn't hit the whole of your chip. I keep telling you that you need to hold your arm higher." Amara chided.

"Whatever." Tia grumbled. "I still think this system is a joke."

"Oh, look on the bright side. It's the fun part now."

At that Tia gave Amara a sly grin. "You seem keen. I'm guessing you don't want to hold hands anymore."

"That was once, Tia. It was required on our first day-" Amara began but was stopped when Tia held out her hand.

"Relax. I remember." She assured. "But it is our big day, so I figure we should enter in style."

Amara rolled her eyes but still slipped her hand into Tia's. "Live gracefully?" She said.  

Tia winked. "Always"

The two girls walked through the veil.

They did not go through gracefully.

First, both girls experienced a sudden destabilizing shock- similar to falling in in cold water while having your armpits electrocuted. They had both been expecting this so it bothered them little. What did surprise them was what happened next. Before either of them could take their next step, a sudden tugging sensation yanked them violently to their left, like a kite being pulled by a sudden gust. Within an instant, Amara and Tia were off their feet and speeding through a tunnel of pulsing light. Amara could feel her body shake and throb with blinding energy that stabbed through every fiber of her being. Just when she thought her head couldn't take it anymore, the rushing pull came to an abrupt stop. For a second, they floated in air. Then both girls tumbled to the floor. As they did, Amara noticed that her body bounced ever so slightly off the ground before settling. They had arrived. But what had all that been about?

"Gah" Groaned Tia who was lying next to her. Pulling herself up, she brushed her braid back behind her shoulder and gave Amara a gentle shake. "You OK?" She asked.

By way of response, Amara gave quick thumbs up. Her throat felt weirdly narrow, as if it was somehow parched with thirst. Still nothing seemed broken, so as far as she was concerned she had come out on top. Getting up, the girls began to take stock of their surroundings. They appeared to be in some form of room, with a domed black ceiling that still managed to emit light somehow. The floor beneath them mirrored the roof by being smooth to the touch and constructed of cool metal. There appeared to be no door, but there was a hole located straight in front of them. And beside it was a man.

The man seemed to be in his middle-ages with a neatly trimmed beard, the sharp edges of which nicely complimented the geometric patterns on the sides of his tunic. Said tunic was a navy-blue color interwoven with threads of gold that shimmered in and out of sight as he moved, much like the stone of the bridge-entrance. A light blue cape was draped over one shoulder with a border pattern of black diagonal lines, indicating his rank and status: archivist with a record of one tenure. He held in his hand a small electronic writing tile and appeared to be ticking something on it with a silvery pen.

"You two." He said. His tone was authoritative, but his Baran- which was wobbling between different frequencies- betrayed a certain uncertainty to him. It was clear to Amara that he wasn't used to the role he had been assigned.

"You two." He began again, more forcefully now. "Come. The ceremony is barely a minute away."

"Ceremony?" Tia asked incredulously, while Amara felt her stomach drop faster than a convict at the gallows.

The archivist narrowed his eyes. "You are initiates in the scribal arts, correct?"

Before Tia could respond, Amara stepped in. "We are just that, sir." She said. "Both of us were just slightly confused about how events would proceed." Just to be safe, Amara also reduced her Baran to a faint hum allowing the archivist's to be heard more clearly. Tia followed her example. This simple move was a classic act of respect, indicating deference to one's superiors. It clearly had its desired effect, as the man's own Baran steadied to a heartbeat-like pace.

"Not to worry." The archivist said, eyes glued to his tile which he appeared to be ticking. "Just seat yourself and we'll commence."

He then snapped his fingers. Instantly, a portion of the floor in front of him opened and a small coracle came up, right in front of the hole. Inside were two grooved seats. The archivist had stopped talking, his work apparently done. Tia, however, took the hint and lead Amara into the small boat. Once settled, the girls looked for some means of propulsion- be it a paddle or an engine- but found precisely nothing.

"Excuse me-" Amara started, but before she could finish her request the archivist (his eyes still trained on his tile) gave the coracle a sharp shove with his foot, booting it through the hole. The girls yelped as their vessel fell down before landing with a splash in what appeared to be water. They heard a door slam shut above them and were then placed in near-total darkness.

"Tikan!" Yelled Tia back accompanied by a violent spike in her Baran that Amara was sure would give the archivist above an ache in the brain. Tikan referred to a type of endoparasite worm that was common in sick labor beasts that frequented the void-ports of the city. If Tia was willing to bust out her biological knowledge Amara knew she must be pissed. Though her own feelings made Tia's anger seem far, far away despite her sitting right next to her. That word went back and forth in her head like the tolling of a bell. Ceremony. How could she have forgotten? Had her mind been so fixated on the finish line that she lost sight of the first hurdle?

Amara thought back to the coin she had flipped into the river. She had done so as a good luck charm; a little trick to secure fortune for the day or so her mother had told her. But looking ahead, it seemed that a little circle of metal resting on the bottom of a canal wasn't going to do much good in the face of what was coming.

"Hey Amara" Tia's voice reached through Amara's hurricane of stressed thoughts and grabbed her attention in the gloomy dark. "Sorry for blanking out back there. Your save was much appreciated."

"Thanks." Amara said back. "I take it you've remembered the ceremony now."

Tia groaned. "Yeah. How many do you reckon-"

She was cut short when the darkness they were in was broken by sudden bursts of light. The floor beneath the water was suddenly illuminated with a ghostly blue glow as pockets of light began to shine, gradually growing in intensity like shining flowers opening to a hidden sun. Their radiance was mirrored in the lines of blue light that could now be seen on the ceiling, trailing and criss-crossing over one another like the trail of some ghostly snail. Their coracle then began to move. slowly but surely it edged forwards, despite their seemingly being no force propelling. Instead it felt like they were being pulled, gently yet ceaselessly down the softly shining channel.

"It's begun." Amara observed, feeling the sudden blue light covering the tunnel wasn't proof enough that weirdness was afoot. Turning to Tia, she asked "You all prepared?"

Tia gave an awkward smile and said. "Think as much as I can be. It's just a matter of keeping our Barans on a leash, right?"

The coracle was gaining speed now, as they turned a corner and began to gradually flow downwards. "That's true but there's more to it than that. We're going to have to merge with all the others. Ever done that before?"

"I think you know the answer to that question." Tia said irritably as they sped down a slope of water.

Amara sighed, but she couldn't say she had much experience either. She had been so fixated on what manner of text they would be assigned that she had almost completely failed to remember the assembly; the opening ceremony wherein all the scribal initiates would be grouped together. As one, they would raise their Barans to the ceiling, hiding nothing from those who would be examining them. Their superiors would then place the girls in groups of four based on how well their Barans complimented each other. And it was in these groups that the initiates would analyze the text given to them.

As the pair began to pick up speed, Amara heard noises in the darkness. The sounds of whispering was coming in through the walls around them, underscored by the faint but unmistakable noise of Barans contrasting and playing against one another.

With a sharp swerve to the right, the girls rounded a corner. Up ahead was an exit with light streaming out of it. Closer and closer it got. Amara inhaled deeply and looked Tia deep in the eye.

"Get ready." She whispered as the two passed through the door way and into the light.

Almost immediately Amara was overwhelmed.

Before she could take stock of her surroundings, her brain nearly cracked open like one of her father's eggs. A wave of Barans came crashing down upon the shore of her mind. Drowning her. Crushing her. She came close to blacking out until Tia grabbed her hand and squeezed tight, digging her nails into Amara's flesh. The shock was enough to jerk Amara back into reality. Breathing in, she looked up and properly saw her environment. High black walls stretched upwards, though illumination came from the glowing surface beneath the water and a solitary skylight located far above in the ceiling, the shine from which was beaming down directly on to the dead center of the room. Converging on to this point were waterways streaming from every corner of the room. And floating on these streams were the initiates.

There was about four on each path. Glancing back, Amara could see three more pairs trailing down the waterway they were currently on. They were all wearing the same dark red uniform marking their status as initiates and all of them seemed to be as stunned as Amara had been. Their faces darting back and forth, quicker than buzzing flies, trying to take in the enormity of this new space. Amara felt a pang of sympathy for a young girl who was sitting hunched in her coracle, shivering under the sheer volume of Barans swarming around her, while her partner rubbed her back in an attempt to calm her. She considered reaching out to help, but was distracted by the Tia tugging at her side. Glancing ahead, Amara could see that in the point where the streams converged was a massive pool where the coracles were starting to fall into and group together.

Amara tried to steady her breathing as the pair of them sloshed down into the pool. She had managed to grow accustomed to the amount of Barans in the hall and could even feel her own again. She gave Tia's hand a gentle squeeze, who smiled faintly back. It was clear their entrance had been draining on her too.

Eventually, all 16 pairs had flowed into the central space. Once the last pair entered, a mechanical whine suddenly emitted from the coracles. In an instant, each boat stuck to the side of the one directly next to it until all of them were joined in one big metal net. Around her, Amara could see her fellow initiates glancing around, whispering to each other though some simply tried to recover from the Baran onslaught they had just experienced. A few seconds passed. Then their attention was drawn by a deep, solid creak emitting from the end of the hall. Craning their necks, they could see that the wall there had begun to open. Beams of prismatic light shot out from behind and Amara could catch the mummering and footsteps of what seemed like several people going about their business. Then three figures slipped through the entrance, closed the door and made their way to the assembled students.

They arrived and took places around the pool. With just a glance, Amara could tell that these three were higher up in the academy's strata than anyone she had come across before in her three years of studying. The man standing in front of her had a deep crimson tunic, heavy gold bands encircling his wrists and a face as hard as quarry stone. His eyes were sharp and black, never fixed on one place for long as they swept over the assembled initiates. From the intensity of his gaze, Amara almost felt like the assessing ceremony had already began and she was being shoved under the spotlight.

"Gathered initiates." Said one of the other figures standing above the pool. Turning her head, Amara was pleased to see her teacher- Miss Amaharan- who had instructed her and Tia both for the past three years. Her wrinkled face looked so warm in the falling light, her eyes calm and still as they surveyed her students from over a slightly curved nose.

"Gathered initiates." She repeated. "First and foremost, I would thank you for your prompt and dignified arrival. Efficiency is our priority here."

Amara listened intently, though she chose to edit the 'dignified' part of Amaharan's sentence considering her and Tia's entrance into the academy had involved them literally falling flat on their faces.

"Secondly" Amaharan continued. "Cherish that appraisal. Chances are you won't be experiencing easy thanks like that for some time. True praise is hard-won in the House of Five Waters- and all the more meaningful as a result."

She gave a slight chuckle. The man in red, however, frowned and gave an impatient jerk of the head in Amaharan's direction. Taking the hint, she sighed and assumed a more upright position.

"As you are aware, you will now be expected to raise and intermix your Barans." Amaharan said. "You needn't have anything to fear, though. Our examiner has you under all her protection."

She gestured to the third person to have come in, standing to her left. This was a young woman, brown skinned with a bob of black hair. She didn't say anything, but Amara noticed the corners of her mouth twitch, revealing small scars on each side.

Sounding disappointed for some reason, Amaharan continued. "We begin in one minute. Please prepare yourself."

She stepped down from the platform. Immediately, whispering began among the initiates, everyone bracing themselves for the test. Amara simply closed her eyes and steadied her breathing. She'd burnt through the majority of her worrying. All she cared about now was getting it over with. Still, Amara opened one eye just to check on how Tia was doing. She had her eyes fixed forward, but on feeling Amara's gaze, she gave a weak smile. As the final seconds ticked away, she mouthed something to Amara- though she couldn't make out what it was.

Amaharan's voice echoed in the dark hall.  

"You may begin."

In an instant, all of Amara's filters dropped.

Her Baran-which had been suppressed fiercely ever since stepping out her door-expanded to its full form. As it did, Amara felt her consciousness get tugged out of her body, flowing with her now free mental field. Soon she was lost in the noise and color of the rapidly building storm of energy that was now filling the hall. Countless sounds swirled in her mind. She flitted between droning hums, calming sighs, fluctuating whistles, more and more with each passing second, slamming and combining with each other in the cacophony. Then came the visions. One second, she was walking through a room, bare feet bouncing off a floor warmed by the steps of many others , the odor of scented wood filling her nostrils. But before she could settle into this scene, she found herself in another. Now she was standing in the docks watching as a bow shaped ship lifted off the ground and headed toward the sky, which opened up to receive it, revealing inky blackness beyond...

On and on it went, more and more visions piling on top of one another. More than she could count, more than she could process, streaming through her mind. Who even was 'she'? Was she the girl surrounded by the books? The one sitting in prayer? With each passing second, she was drifting further and further apart, losing any sense of individuality in the swarm of histories, color, sound and...

ENOUGH

After what felt like hours of floating aimlessly about, Amara was jolted back into her body with the force of a fly suddenly dying in the middle of hovering. She blinked and looked around blearily, her flesh feeling like a strait jacket after the anarchic freedom of the Baran vortex. Several of the initiates were groaning and slumping in their coracles, clearly experiencing the same backlash that Amara was going through. Tia herself was swaying from side to side, mumbling something about ships coming into port. Amara considered giving her a gentle shake but held back, figuring that even the slightest nudge might push her befuddled friend into the water.

Glancing upwards, Amara could see the scar-mouthed examiner looking down on them like a hawk. Her eyes briefly met with Amara's and in an instant the young girl knew who had brought her back to reality. The examiner had the darkest eyes of anyone that Amara had ever seen. One look was enough for her to immediately quit staring and turn her attention back to Miss Amaharan.

"Excellent display, initiates." The teacher said, quickly glancing side to side to make sure none of her pupils had passed out. "Your hard work has borne fruit. For the time being, however, you can rest."

She held her wrist up and typed a sequence on to the bracelet there. The doors at the hall's far end opened, letting in a stream of honey-colored light.

"15 minutes break in recuperation chambers" Amaharan continued. "Then you will be informed of the results."

At that, there was an ecstasy of fumbling as the initiates picked themselves from the coracles and stumbled out of the pool. Amara leant the still groggy Tia a hand as they made their way to the door. As they passed, Amara felt a tightness in her throat and knew that the examiner was still staring at her.

The nest few minutes were a blur. The group was lead down a well-lit hallway, a welcome change from the darkness of the gathering point they had left. If she had been herself, Amara would have probably taken note of the inscriptions on the walls. Or the patterning on the floor they walked on. Or the fact that they were probably going through the catacombs of the house of the Five Waters. But none of that registered. Her mind was still reeling from the Baran storm. With every step she took Amara worried if she was going to wind up stepping into someone else's memories again.

Eventually, the group took a turn to what appeared to be a dead end. Naturally, the wall shifted and dissolved, leaving an oblong gateway to another room with long benches and cushions waiting. The group flowed in, with Amara making a beeline for a particularly big cushion squashed into the far corner. The other initiates huddled together, whispering about their ordeal, making predictions and speculations. Amara made no attempt to join in. Her capacity for meaningful social interaction had fizzled to zero over the last half hour. All she wanted now was to re-charge before being swamped in more faces and voices.

As the minutes passed, Amara noticed that the walls were emitting a soft pulsing green light. She smiled to herself, knowing the choice of lighting was done to help calm down the initiates after their demanding experience. Still, she thought, the only thing that'll reassure me is finding out who I'm working with.

Glancing around didn't fill her with much excitement. Everyone in the room was about her age, for sure, but most had already bunched off into groups of their own. Amara felt a pang of dissatisfaction but quickly pushed it aside. She hoped the people she was sharing the room with got a match-up that suited them. Right now, the only person she knew was...

"Right behind you." Tia said. Turning back, Amara could see her friend standing behind her, a bleary smile plastered on her face.

"Well, that was..." Tia continued blinking hard. "That." Amara shuffled to the side and let Tia flump down on to the cushion with her.

"You reckon I did a good show?" Tia asked.

"You were the ship going through the void port."

"yeah"

"You'll be fine. That wasn't embarrassing or anything was it?"

"Oh alright." Tia said. She sighed, apparently satisfied with her lot. Amara wondered what she had seen, what the others had seen. A Baran was the sum total of a person's experiences; in combining them together each initiate had allowed their peers a glimpse into who they were. Nothing much. Just an image seen through a keyhole. But enough to go on.

"Enough to start making assumptions. Making Judgements." Amara winced, as her doubts made themselves known again. She pushed them aside best she could, fidgeting with a loose curl of hair as she stared at the softly pulsating walls - trying to lose herself the way she had lost herself back in the entrance hall.  

Her daze was interrupted by the sound of the entrance opening again. Stepping through was the red-robed man. His eyes were black as ever, though they weren't intensely gazing like before. Instead the seemed unfocused, as if his mind was someplace else. Drawing himself up to his full height, he said.

"Thank you for your patience." Amara was surprised at how melodious his voice was, considering the roughness of his face. "Our results have been tallied. You may come through."

He then turned without a second word, leaving an open wall behind him. Not wanting to stew in her worry any longer, Amara shot up and headed after him, Tia trailing alongside.

"Would it kill him to wait?" Tia asked as they turned down the hallway.

"All part of the new emphasis on self-sufficiency, I guess." Amara replied.

Tia snorted "I don't care how much they pound into my head, I'm never finding my way around here."

Amara chuckled, but she could see her point. Now her mind had been sharpened by anticipation, their surroundings seemed much more vibrant. The walls appeared to shimmer somehow- rippling under the light above like fish scales. Every so often, the shape of a doorway in either wall would suddenly flit into Amara's line of vision only to flit out again, in an instant. She didn't even realize she had walked through an arch until a whole new room seemed to blossom right in front of her.

This space was much airier than the darkened hall. Light flited in through rectangular windows, becoming prismatic as it went through the glass. Scholars came down stair cases in the four corners of the room, the light from the windows dancing on the muted colours of their robes. At the far end of the room was a fountain, comprised of five interlocking dragon heads that intertwined and rose as one single point like some bizarre flower. Seated around this fountain was Miss Amaharan and the red-robed man- both of them locked in what appeared to be an intense conversation.

Determined to get this over with Amara strode down the room, vaguely aware that she had actually become the leader of their little troupe. Noticing them, Amaharan immediately dipped out of her conversation and resumed her warm smile. Getting up, she raised her hands in a celebratory manner and began to speak.

"Initiates! What a performance from you all. But enough anticipation, let's see the fruits of your labours!"

She snapped her fingers. Immediately the flow of water coming from the dragon heads ceased. There was a pause, followed by a faint rumble of hidden machinery. Then five beams of light shot up from the heads, projecting several tables on to the wall, in which were displayed the names of the initiates, four to a cube.  

Instantly Amara's eyes began darting over each box of names. She was going so fast that the writing seemed to be just lines punctuated by the occasional circle. Slowing herself down, she forced herself to take in one table at a time. Eventually she found it; on the furthest set to the left. Her name directly on top- one circle flanked by two diagonal lines. And beneath that...

Amara sunk into her relief like a hot bath, the release of tension so great that even Tia's excited nudges felt like they were happening to someone else. Underneath her name was Tia's- two vertical lines followed by a horizontal and a diagonal. Amara quickly glanced at the other two underneath, but realized she didn't know them. Didn't bother her much. Just having one person she knew along with her for this job was enough to make her hope she had a chance. Or at least someone to catch her should she fail.

"Alright" Miss Amaharan said, apparently content with the level and duration of her students' chattering. "Now you understand who you're working with, may I ask you to kindly follow our inspector up the stairs. She shall escort you to your respective workspace."

The inspector- who had somehow appeared at the foot of the stairs in the far left of the room- gave a sharp jerk of her head, imploring the initiates to follow her lead. Amara and Tia began walking, but were stopped by a Baran very deliberately brushing against their minds.

Turning around, they could see miss Amaharan standing, an affectionate half-smile playing on her aged features.

"Sorry if I was a bit rough. Age makes handling one's baran quite strenuous." She explained. She then grimaced slightly and sat down on the fountain's side.

"Oh, look at me." Amaharan continued. "I'm your teacher. I should be doing more than just stating the obvious."

In response, Amara gave a polite chuckle, doing her best to ignore the growing drum-beat of concern pounding in the back of her head.

"I imagine that comes with the territory." Tia said, causing Amara's drumbeat of panic to evolve into a full-grown marching band at the prospect of her best friend pissing off one of the few adults in this entire academy whom she was sure was looking out for her.

Thankfully, miss Amaharan's response was a happy little cackle and a nod of approval. "That and more besides!" She exclaimed. "Speaking of which..."

She reached inside her robe and pulled out two pieces of paper. On them was the sigil of the house of the five waters- a circle separated by two diagonal lines and another running down the middle.

"Hold out your arms please." She said to both girls. They did so as Amaharan placed both pieces of paper on to their forearms. Instantly they began to smoke and Amara had to suppress a yelp as the sigils on them appeared to burn on to her skin before disappearing completely.

"Just a minor upgrade." Amaharan explained to Amara and Tia, who was tentatively prodding the space where the sigil had been with a concerned expression on her face. "The other students will receive it when they get to their workplaces. You can access the academy in its entirety now."

She gestured the pair to look around their surroundings, which they promptly did. The change was remarkable. Doorways she had half-glimpsed now stood clear as day. Every colour seemed crisper, every line more defined. Yet despite the dramatic increase in focus, Amara noticed that if her eyes stayed too long on one surface she began to see through it. Glancing down, she glimpsed corridors snaking through boxed-off rooms in the level beneath the floor.

"Disorientating, I know." Amaharan noted, looking down with Amara. "But you'll get used to it soon enough. Plus, keep looking long enough and you'll find some interesting ways around."

She pointed to a space nestled near the north-east stairway. After a moment's staring, Amara glimpsed another doorway wedged there- flickering in and out of her vision like a candle flame.

"Go through that door, follow the path, first door you come across will lead you to your workspace." Amaharan said brusquely. She then gave one more look to the two pupils.

"Good luck" She wished. With that the elderly teacher did a small jump backwards. Instead of landing back on the floor, she sunk right through it, as if the stone was no more substantial than water.

Tia and Amara stood there for a second, trying to process fully what they had seen. Realizing that they were standing around when they should be getting along, Amara decided to break the silence.

"Well I guess she wasn't kidding when she was talking about those interesting ways around." She joked.

"Yeah..." Tia replied uncertainly, eyes darting across the floor. She felt Amara staring so quickly looked up with a smile. "Lead the way."

Amara did, stepping forward to the flickering doorway. Turning around she noticed Tia hopping on exactly the same spots she had walked on. Rolling her eyes, Amara pushed forward through the door and stepped right through.

@eccentricisthegame this one is quite long...