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molly-ghuleh · 1 year ago

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Camellia: Copia x f!reader - Chapter 1

Camellia: n. - A flower which symbolizes a deep desire or longing.

Summary: You are a translator for the Ministry. You receive a letter summoning you to the Abbey for a project involving an ancient diary with a mysterious author, but you find yourself wishing you were back home. That is, until you meet the charming Papa Emeritus the Fourth.

Word count: 4.4k

A/N: Hi all!! This is the first long-form fic I've ever written and decided to publish, so I hope you all enjoy!! The first chapter is mostly setup and scene building, so not a lot of interaction with our beloved Copia. But there will be more, I promise!!

Warnings: none for now but there will be some in later chapters.

AO3 Link

Prologue

“Will you help me move this box?” the Brother of Sin says.

Wordlessly, the Sister of Sin stops what she’s doing and maneuvers through the crowded, dusty basement room to help the Brother. The two crouch down, bracing their hands against the box of books. It leaves behind a path carved into the layers of dust as it slides across the wooden floor.

Once the box is pushed a few feet out of the way, the Sister lets go and, losing her balance, falls to her hands and knees from the crouching position. She cries out in surprise when her hand sinks through the floorboards as one of the slats gives way. The hole is only a few inches deep and filled with dirt and cobwebs, but the Sister’s hand falls onto something softer than wood.

She lifts her hand to find that there’s a small leather-bound volume hidden face-down in the small crevice. The Sister can hardly imagine how long it has been there, with how thick the grime lies on the back cover.

This room of the Abbey’s basement had been long forgotten, until Sister Imperator tasked these Siblings of Sin to clear out the room to make way for new storage. They had half expected to find a ruby-encrusted sarcophagus in the room, with how ancient and opulent the Abbey is. So far the only things of interest they have found are books—it seems that the only items stored in the room are books.

The Sister gently removes the book from the hole in the floor and replaces the wooden slat. Even through her gloves she can tell that it is close to disintegrating. The distinct orange of rotten leather lines the edges of its binding and a few corners of pages fall to the ground.

“What’s that?” The Brother asks.

The Sister carefully turns the volume over so that she can read the front cover. It, too, is covered in dust, so she gently brushes it with her hand in order to read the embossed leather cover. Having been face-down in the crevice, the gold leaf illuminating the embossment is preserved and it shines in the low light of the basement.

“It says…” the Sister squints to read the small letters, “...Elizabeth.”

“Elizabeth? Who’s Elizabeth?”

The Sister turns over the book once more. “I don’t know, just… Elizabeth.”

Chapter 1

The ride from the airport to the Abbey is a long one. The car you had been picked up in took you through the city and the suburbs, to the rural outskirts of civilization where the coniferous trees block much of the sunlight. The winding roads, dotted in late-afternoon sunbeams, feel endless as the car climbs into the hills. It’s been a silent ride, and rather awkward (at least, you feel that it’s been awkward) because the helmeted ghoul who drives the sleek black sedan has not said a word.

You knew that the Abbey has ghouls. A few abbeys do, as they are big enough to warrant summoning help, but your home chapter is not. This is the first time you’ve met one.

You wonder if they’re all so stoic, or if the driver simply doesn’t have anything to say. He isn’t impolite, but you wish he would say something, anything to make the drive a little more bearable. You want to ask him about the Abbey–what the Siblings are like, what Papa is like. How many Siblings live there full time? How big is the library? You’ve heard that the ghost of a former Papa haunts the corridors, is that true? Hundreds of questions brew in your mind, but the ghoul remains silent and you’re left feeling like an unwelcome guest in a strange country.

You already miss home.

The Marseille abbey, your home for the better part of your adult life, is a medieval stone structure built on a hilltop south of the Marseille city proper. The ornate, stained-glass windows of its chapel face west over the Mediterranean so that the sunset streams into the room during Black Mass. The walls are old and drafty, and keep faded tapestries in a constant state of fluttering. The linens line the walls of the refectory in between tall, narrow windows which also overlook the sea. If it were not for the inverted crosses and scenes of the unjust fall of Lucifer, one might think the atmosphere in the chapel—and the rest of the small abbey—is almost holy.

The windows in the Sibling dormitories are small and south-facing, with deep stone sills and wood frames that have somehow managed to survive the ages (although they hardly open without a fight.) Your own dormitory windowsill is lined with personal prayer books. Each has about a hundred loose papers sticking out. They are your translation practice, your way of staying versed in every language you know, because you know the prayers by heart at this point. The papers are experiments: which language makes the prayer sound better, sound prettier? Which language makes the most sense? Which language makes the prayers the shortest, the longest?

No matter which language you use, to you the prayers sound the most beautiful in your mother tongue. That is how you’d memorized them, after all. Yet… you wish there had been room in your single suitcase to take your prayer books with you.

“We’re almost there,” the ghoul says, snapping you out of your homesick reverie. His voice is deep and softer than you’d expected. There’s no spurt of hellfire from his mouth as you’d half-thought there would be, and no low rumble in his words that might signify he’s more beast than man. The ghoul, despite his bug-eyed mask, seems shockingly human.

He steers the car through tall wrought-iron gates which seem to open automatically. You can see the tall peak of the Abbey’s bell tower peeking through the trees, and suddenly the reality that you’re very, very far from home hits you.

You unfold the crinkled envelope in your hands and reread the letter for the hundredth time that day.

Dear Sister,

I hope this letter finds you well.

We at the Abbey have recently uncovered a very important document which we require your expertise to translate. However, this document is extremely fragile and cannot be transported in the post. Papa Emeritus IV and the rest of the Clergy request your presence at the Abbey as soon as possible.

We expect this project to take several months. Enclosed is a one-way ticket for you to travel to the airport closest to us, from which a car will transport you to the Abbey. We will discuss plans for your return to Marseille when you are nearing the end of your work here.

We anxiously await your arrival.

Sincerely,

Sister Imperator

The letter itself is quite presumptuous. Sister Imperator had assumed you were not busy, and assumed that you would be able to drop everything and travel halfway across the world for a months-long project. And then to use Papa’s name to exaggerate the importance of this mysterious document which she hadn’t even disclosed the nature of?

Well… you can’t exactly say no to the woman who practically runs the Ministry’s affairs.

The car takes a bend in the Abbey’s endless driveway and emerges into a clearing. Sitting far back on a sprawling lawn is a massive, imposing stone structure. The rows of trimmed hedges and flower bushes do little to soften the gothic hardness of it. Two pointed bell towers loom over the steep roof of what must be the chapel, with stained glass windows stretching up at least two storeys. The central image is of Baphomet, in his iconographic pose. The setting sun glints off of his golden halo. Sweet Satan, you think, your eyes tracking the window as the car rounds the drive. Baphomet alone must be taller than the entire height of Marseille.

The ghoul pulls the car to a stop in front of the wide steps leading up to wooden double doors. A woman stands there, her hands clasped in front of her and her back straight, like the matron of this grand palace. You suppose she is–the severity of her expression alone leads you to believe that it’s Sister Imperator who waits for you.

You step out into the chilly air and shut the car door behind yourself. The ghoul already has your suitcase in hand and gestures for you to walk up the stairs before him. You wish he’d let you carry your own suitcase, if only to give your hands something to do, but you are far too stunned to ask. Climbing the shallow stone steps feels like stepping into another world. A world in which you feel far too plain to exist.

“Sister,” The woman greets with a smile. It doesn’t quite reach her eyes, which squint at you beneath slightly furrowed, well-groomed brows. She strikes you as someone who is all business, all the time. “How was your journey?”

You return her smile as best you can. She speaks to you like you don’t understand English. “It went well, your dark eminence.”

She seems a little surprised that you respond so fluently, but she quickly fixes her face into another warm grin. “I am glad to hear it,” she says. “Thank you for coming on such short notice. I’m sure you must understand that this document is very important, and quite fragile. We would not risk losing it in the post.” “Of course,” you nod. “If I may ask, Sister Imperator, what is this document? You did not disclose it in your letter.” You gesture to the envelope safely stored in your jacket pocket.

Sister Imperator turns to step inside the slightly ajar wooden door and you assume she wants you to follow. The ghoul accompanies you over the threshold, but at the wave of a hand from Sister Imperator, he turns down a narrow corridor with your suitcase and disappears around a corner.

You are still a bit too overwhelmed to thank him. Instead, you look at the woman beside you. “The ghoul will bring your luggage to a room we have prepared for your stay,” she explains at your silent question.

She continues down the main hall, deeper into the Abbey. Your footsteps echo through the atrium, bouncing up to the high, painted ceilings and off the stone walls. There are a few wooden benches pushed back against the wall, with pots of surprisingly lush houseplants on either side. Framed oil paintings line the walls: some depicting biblical scenes, some of landscapes, and a few large, dignified portraits. You can tell by the distinct Papal paints in each portrait that the subject is a Papa, and you wonder which one depicts Papa Emeritus IV. You’ve never seen an image of His Unholiness before.

After a few moments of silence, Sister Imperator speaks again. “We found the document last month, in one of the storage rooms in the Abbey’s basement.” She likes to use the royal ‘we’ a lot, you think.

She continues. “One of our archivists believes that it is at least five hundred years old. It is very fragile, you see, and so we ask that you handle it with the utmost care as you work with it. We would prefer it if you used gloves. And frankly, Sister, I believe that you would want to. The leather is fairly rotten.” You stay silent as you follow slightly behind her. You’ve worked with old, rotten books before. The pages nearly crumble apart in your hands and the leather splits easily, but it’s nothing you can’t handle.

“We believe it is a journal—a diary, rather, of someone very important in the Ministry’s history.” You find it strange that she doesn’t immediately disclose whose diary it might be. “Who, if I may ask?” “Elizabeth.” Sister Imperator’s voice is clipped as she answers you. She gives no further explanation. Just Elizabeth.

There are millions of women named Elizabeth in the world. It is very likely that there is more than one important Elizabeth in the Ministry’s history as well. It’s a fairly common name, especially five hundred years ago (if the archivist is correct). For all you know, this document could be some random Sister’s sexual logbook, and documenting her sinful indulgences was her way of praying to the Lord Below.

You break out of your ponderance over possibilities when Sister Imperator turns a corner to walk down another, slightly narrower (but still wide) corridor. She speaks again. “The book is to be kept in a lockbox at all times when you are not working with it. Under no circumstances is it to be removed from the Abbey library without my express permission, or the permission of Papa. Is that understood?”

“Yes, Sister,” you answer hastily. Her tone of voice as she lays down the law makes you feel as though you’ve already made a mistake.

“Now. The reason we need you, Sister, is because none of our own archivists or translators can figure out what language the journal is written in.”

This piques your interest, and also slightly flatters you. “What do you mean?” you ask.

She releases a long-suffering sigh. “The writing is jumbled. It is a mess of letters and sometimes numbers, with no spaces whatsoever.”

The possibilities immediately start to stack in your mind. Latin from the Roman era tended not to use spaces, a practice called ‘scriptio continua’. Ancient Greek also did this… but wouldn’t the in-house translators be able to read it?

“I cannot explain it well enough,” Sister Imperator says. “You will have to see, Sister.”

The two of you come to another set of large double doors. Sister Imperator pushes one open and steps inside, holding it open for you. You slip past her into a huge, bright room, filled with hundreds and hundreds of bookshelves. Immediately you are hit with the scent of old books and parchment paper, and the gentle sounds of turning pages. To your left sits an ornate wooden desk with one Sibling standing behind it. They are sorting books onto a three-tiered cart, presumably to put them away in the correct order. You accidentally make eye contact, but they smile politely and you respond in kind with a little wave.

You avert your gaze upward towards the open second floor, which wraps around the large atrium and is protected by a dark oak bannister. A few Siblings linger on the catwalk, carrying books or making their way towards the wide staircase that opens to your right. The bottom floor of the atrium houses several wooden tables where another smattering of Siblings sit. Most other tables are empty save for an abandoned book or two.

The late evening glow shines down into the room from a large, circular skylight in the middle of the ceiling. There are desk lamps and overhead lights scattered about but none have been turned on yet.

It reminds you of the University library.

“Come,” Sister Imperator says after allowing you to gaze around the massive library for a moment. “The lockbox is in the restricted section. You will receive your own key while you are here but you are required to return it, directly to myself or the Head Librarian, before you leave.”

She leads you up the carpeted staircase and deep into the bowels of the second floor. Towards the back corner, where the shelves are labeled ‘Fiction - Romance’, there is a wooden door tucked against the wall. A sign beneath its small glass window reads ‘RESTRICTED’. Sister Imperator fishes a rather noisy set of keys from her pocket and finds the correct one to unlock the door. She pushes it open with a squeak that feels loud in the quiet of the library. When both of you are in the room and the door is shut behind you, she removes an identical key from her keyring and hands it to you. “Your copy,” she says. “Do not lose it.”

The room isn’t cramped, but it is small compared to the atrium. A few single-person desks sit along the back wall, while the walls on either side of you are lined with glass boxes. Each box is shaped similarly to a narrow cubby, and houses a single book. Printed labels on the front face of each box display a box number and the name of the volume stored inside.

“Your key allows you to access any of these boxes,” Sister Imperator explains to you, “but I do not expect you to require any of them, except for the diary you’ll be working with. It is kept in box number seven, which is here,” she points to a box about halfway up the rightmost column of cubbies. Using her key (still attached to the incredibly jingly keyring), she gently unlocks the box and it glides out like a drawer.

You step beside her to look down into the glass drawer. The diary is wrapped in white linen, but you can see the faint brown color of the leather through the cloth. “The archivist requests that you keep the white cloth under the book at all times,” Sister Imperator says. She reaches down into the box and gently retrieves the diary, careful not to jostle the cloth too much. “It will protect the leather from further decay.” You don’t need her to explain how preservation works, but you appreciate it anyway. It saves you from having to ask, or endure another awkward silence.

She places the book down on a nearby table and slowly unwraps the cloth. Already you can see small flecks of brown and orange sticking to it where the leather has rotted, but it seems to be fairly well preserved in light of its age. On the front cover in small, embossed gold letters is the name Elizabeth.

“Elizabeth,” you say, understanding.

“Elizabeth,” Sister Imperator replies. “That is the only word we have managed to decipher. Hopefully you will be able to help us with the rest.”

You nod. “I believe I can.”

She wraps the cloth loosely around the book once more, and returns it to its box. “I do not expect you to start tonight, Sister. We will give you time to settle, and have something to eat. But from tomorrow morning until you are done, this is your sole responsibility. Do you understand?”

Her sudden, almost intimidating tone surprises you. You bite the inside of your cheek–a nasty habit you’ve had since you were a child. “I understand, your Dark Eminence,” you say with another nod.

Her face softens, as does her stare. “Please, just Sister is fine,” she says. You follow her again as she begins to lead you out of the Restricted room. “I believe the dinner hour is to start soon. I will show you to your dormitory, and then leave you to get settled.”

She brings you back through the library and the main hall towards where you’d seen the ghoul disappear with your luggage. The dormitory hall is a long, narrow corridor with windows on one side and doors on the other. Each door is marked with a number and a nameplate, and in between each door are wall sconces lit by incandescent bulbs. Halfway down the hall there is an opening to a stairwell which, you assume, leads up to the second floor of the dormitories. You walk past many, many doors, some of which have two nameplates, until you reach the very end of the hall where there are unmarked doors. Sister finds her keyring again and unlocks one, then removes the key and hands it to you.

“These rooms here are the guest quarters. They are typically not suited for long-term stays but we have prepared yours to have everything you will need. If you need anything, ask Sibling Superior and they will make sure that you receive it.”

Sister Imperator turns to leave, but then turns around. “You know, Sister,” she says, with a curious look. “For someone of your expertise, I thought you would have been… older.” You can’t tell if it’s praise or suspicion in her voice. “Yes, well,” you stall. How are you supposed to explain that language just comes naturally to you and that it’s not your fault you’re not old and wrinkly? “I suppose once you learn one language, all the rest come easy. Especially romance languages.”

“Hm,” Sister Imperator hums, sizing you up for a moment. “Find me at the end of the week and we will talk about your progress. I’m sure you will know your way around by then.”

It seems her well of kindness has run dry.

~~~

If the loud ringing of the bell didn’t tell you that the dinner hour had started, then the steadily rising sounds of a crowd did. You can hear the murmurs of conversation even through your closed door. A few Siblings emerge from the dormitory next to yours, their chatting and laughing growing quieter as they walk down the corridor towards the refectory. The old wood floorboards creak above you from the movement of Siblings who occupy the second floor. All around you there is an excited bustle, and yet you don’t feel like joining it.

You have never liked crowds. Especially crowds of strangers. And these strangers all seem to know each other, if the echoes of loud conversations tell you anything.

But your stomach does rumble, and you feel rather weak from a day of travel, so you decide that it’s best to eat something before you go to bed. Once the corridor seems clear again, you quietly slip out your door (patting your pocket to make sure you remembered your key) and make your way to the refectory. Sister Imperator hadn’t shown it to you but you can make an educated guess as to where it is.

When you emerge into the main hall, you see a few Siblings occupying the wood benches that had been previously empty. They all hold trays or to-go boxes on their laps. Some speak animatedly, enthralling their friends with stories from their eventful day, while others sit quietly beside each other and eat. You think that it might be nice to sit somewhere to eat so that you feel a bit more connected to the Abbey, but all of the benches are occupied. The ever-growing roar from the refectory does not seem too appealing, either.

The large room is across the main hall from the library. When you turn the corner you see that it’s not as grand as the atrium, and that it only occupies one level. There are sheer curtains hung over the windows, which allow the sunlight to illuminate the room but keeps it from growing too warm. Siblings, Clergy members, and ghouls alike sit at long wooden tables not unlike those of your home Abbey. But these tables alone are longer than the entire length of the Marseille refectory, and once again you’re reminded that you’re quite far from home.

No, you can’t eat here. Not tonight.

There is a long counter stretching nearly wall-to-wall to the left of the door, where a dwindling line of Siblings make their dinner selections. Whatever meal the kitchens had prepared smells delicious but you find that you don’t have the appetite for it. However, close to where you stand in the doorway and nestled in the space between the wall and the counter, are a few baskets of fruit arranged on a small table. The baskets are nearly empty, with the only indication of their contents being the small pops of color peeking through gaps in the woven pattern.

Despite not wanting a hot meal, you are hungry, and so you enter the refectory and move towards the baskets. You opt for two good-sized oranges–although the bananas do look perfectly ripe–and turn to leave as quickly as you came. Your eyes briefly sweep over the crowd and land on a long table, perpendicular to all the others, situated on a platform at the opposite end of the refectory. The platform isn’t tall, but it is just enough to raise the table’s occupants slightly above the Siblings. The table is entirely composed of men, save for Sister Imperator, who seems to be talking to an older man with Papal paints and long blonde hair–is that Papa?

You look at the others occupying the table, and find that no less than three are also wearing Papal paints.

Marseille is a tiny Abbey. At any given time, only about ten Siblings reside there at once. And so there is no need for an upper Clergyman to be stationed there. Instead, the Chapter is run by Bishop Beaumont, who (until now) is the highest ranking member of the Satanic Ministry you have ever met, let alone seen.

So, to be faced with not one, but four Papas, all in the same room, makes your heart thump with nerves. You recognize them all from the portraits in the main hall, but in person they are all so much more… just more. And yet you still don’t know who is who.

Of course, you know that all four of the most recent reigning Papas are brothers, the order of which was determined by age. The man who Sister Imperator is talking to must be Papa Emeritus I, or Papa Primo, as you’ve heard him called by Bishop Beaumont. The other three look relatively close in age, and so you truly have no idea which man currently holds the helm and steers the ship.

You realize you’re staring when you make eye contact with one of the Papas. You nearly gasp in surprise, as if you shouldn’t even be on the same plane of existence as him… and yet your eyes met. Of course one of them would have caught you eventually, you think. You were practically ogling them from across the room.

Hastily, you turn and make your way back out of the refectory and into the main hall. Your eyes fall on the nearest portrait. The Papal paints of the subject match the ones of the man you’d just been caught staring at. You blush as if his portrait could think, and had just caught you a second time. Your eyes flick down to the gold plate affixed to the frame, and read the words.

PAPA EMERITUS IV.

#the band ghost #ghost band #ghost #ghost bc #papa emeritus x reader #copia x reader #papa emeritus iv #copia #papa emeritus iv x reader #papa x reader #cardinal copia x female reader #copia x f!reader #popia x reader #popia x f!reader #papa emeritus iv x f!reader

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darkshadowduelist · 1 year ago

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LEGACY OF DESTRUCTION

(An unexpected twist)

LEDE-JP001 Hakairyuu Gandora Geas (Geas Gandora the Dragon of Destruction)

Level 8 DARK Dragon Effect Monster

ATK 0

DEF 0

You can only use the (1)st and (3)rd effect of this card’s name each once per turn.

(1) If you control “Gold Sarcophagus of Light”: You can Special Summon this card from your hand.

(2) Gains 300 ATK for each banished card.

(3) You can pay half your LP; destroy as many other cards on the field as possible, and if you do, banish them, then Special Summon 1 Level 7 or lower monster from your Deck that mentions “Gold Sarcophagus of Light”, and if you do, increase its Level by the number of cards destroyed by this effect.

LEDE-JP002 Silent Swordsman Zero

Level 4 LIGHT Warrior Effect Monster

ATK 1000

DEF 1000

You can only use the (3)rd effect of this card’s name once per turn.

(1) Once per turn, during each Standby Phase: Increase this card’s Level by 1.

(2) While this card’s current Level is higher than its original Level, it gains ATK equal to the difference x 500.

(3) When your opponent activates a card or effect that targets “Gold Sarcophagus of Light”, and/or a monster(s) that mentions it, you control (Quick Effect): You can negate the activation, and if you do, increase this card’s Level by 1.

LEDE-JP003 Silent Magician Zero

Level 4 LIGHT Spellcaster Effect Monster

ATK 1000

DEF 1000

You can only use the (3)rd effect of this card’s name once per turn.

(1) If your opponent draws a card(s): Increase this card’s Level by the number drawn.

(2) While this card’s current Level is higher than its original Level, it gains ATK equal to the difference x 500.

(3) When your opponent activates a Spell Card or effect and you control “Gold Sarcophagus of Light” (Quick Effect): You can negate the activation, and if you do, increase this card’s Level by 1.

LEDE-JP004 Tricolore Gadget

Level 4 EARTH Machine Effect Monster

ATK 1300

DEF 1100

You can only use the 1st and 2nd effect of this card’s name each once per turn.

(1) If this card is Normal or Special Summoned: You can add 1 “Gold Sarcophagus of Light”, or 1 Spell/Trap that mentions it, from your Deck to your hand.

(2) If this card is destroyed by battle or card effect: You can Set 1 “Stronghold the Hidden Fortress” directly from your Deck.

LEDE-JP005 Mashimarshmallon

Level 3 LIGHT Fairy Effect Monster

ATK 300

DEF 500

You can only use the (1)st and (3)rd effect of this card’s name each once per turn.

(1) During your opponent’s turn, if you control “Gold Sarcophagus of Light” (Quick Effect): You can Special Summon this card from your hand.

(2) While you control “Gold Sarcophagus of Light”, this card cannot be destroyed by battle, also your opponent’s monsters cannot target other monsters for attacks.

(3) If this card is destroyed by card effect: You can Special Summon 1 of your other “Mashimarshmallon” that is banished or in your hand, Deck, or GY, and if you do, inflict 1000 damage to your opponent.

Note: This card appears to be a play on Mashi, which means “more, plus, extra”.

LEDE-JP051 Hikari no Ougonhitsu (Gold Sarcophagus of Light)

Continuous Spell Card

You can only use the (2)nd and (3)rd effect of this card’s name each once per turn.

(1) Cannot be destroyed by monster effects.

(2) During your Main Phase: You can add 1 card from your Deck to your hand that mentions “Gold Sarcophagus of Light”, except “Gold Sarcophagus of Light”.

(3) If your opponent Special Summons a monster(s) from the GY: You can discard 1 Spell, then target 1 of those monsters; send it to the GY.

LEDE-JP054 Toki no Chinmoku – Turn Silence (Silence of Time – Turn Silence/Turn Silence)

Quick-Play Spell Card

You can only activate 1 card with this card’s name per turn.

(1) Target 1 face-up monster you control; increase its Level by 3, and if you activated this card in response to your opponent’s monster effect activation while you controlled “Gold Sarcophagus of Light” and a monster that mentions it, negate that effect.

(2) If your monster that mentions “Gold Sarcophagus of Light” battles, during damage calculation: You can banish this card from your GY; end the Battle Phase.

LEDE-JP053 Nakama no Kizuna (Ties of the Fellows(hip)/Ties of the Companions/Ties of Friendship)

Normal Spell Card

You can only activate 1 card with this card’s name per turn.

(1) If you control “Gold Sarcophagus of Light” and a monster that mentions it: You cannot Special Summon monsters from the Extra Deck for the rest of this turn after this card resolves, also Special Summon up to 2 Level 4 or lower monsters with different names from your hand or Deck that mention “Gold Sarcophagus of Light”.

LEDE-JP054 Mirai he no Chinmoku (Silence Towards the Future)

Quick-Play Spell Card

You can only activate 1 card with this card’s name per turn.

(1) Add 1 monster from your Deck to your hand that mentions “Gold Sarcophagus of Light”, then, if you activated this card during the Battle Phase while you controlled “Gold Sarcophagus of Light” and a monster that mentions it, each player draws cards until they have 6 cards in their hand.

LEDE-JP071 Kakushi Toride Strong Hold (Stronghold the Hidden Fortress)

Continuous Trap Card

(1) Special Summon this card as an Effect Monster (Machine/EARTH/Level 4/ATK 0/DEF 2000) with these effects (this card is also still a Trap).

● Gains 1000 ATK for each card you control that is “Gold Sarcophagus of Light” or a monster that mentions it.

● Once per turn, when an opponent’s monster declares an attack and you control “Gold Sarcophagus of Light”: You can destroy that monster.

#yugioh #ygo #yugioh zexal #yugioh arc v #yugioh vrains #yugioh gx #yugioh 5ds #yugioh sevens!#yugioh go rush

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nightmyst14-blog · 9 months ago

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Regaining Treasures pt3

Let's go Part 3!! I personally think this one is the saddest so far. Might change.

Blame the song "Mama's boy" by Dominic Fike for this one.

Setting: Golden Cheese Kingdom throne’s room. She was extremely happy to have Mozzarella back, but was taking a few days to recover for the second child. She had agreed to wait a week for them to revive Smoked Cheese, but something was bothering the golden queen. Dark Cacao volunteered to talk to her.

Golden Cheese; *sitting on her throne, staring t a wooden bird in her hands.*

Dark Cacao: *walks over Birdie?

Golden Cheese: *sniffles*...Will he even forgive me? Will he even forgive himself?

Dark Cacao: Who?

Golden Cheese: My son.. My second born, Smoked Cheese Cookie. He was the most adamant about my ruling, calling me an arrogant ruler, since I didnt care about what was going on in the outside my kingdom’s walls.

Dark Cacao: …I was told he was your advisor, tried to take your Soul Jam as well.

Golden Cheese: *nods* He and I were a lot alike. He even had the most beautiful red wings, so he would fly with me as I tended to my duties. But.. Due to learning what happened to him, he wanted to take things into his own hands.

Dark Cacao: Do you remember the last time you talked to him?

Golden Cheese: *nods* He was upset that I had spared him.After everything he did, he expected me to kill him.

Dark Cacao: *frowns, remembering his past with Choco* ..And?

Golden Cheese: I..I spared him. As much as I was upset by his insolence, he.. He was right. If it hadnt been for that, I wouldve kept doing what I was doing, making history repeat itself. I..I couldnt.. After all of that, h-he’s my son…

Dark Cacao: *cups her cheek* I..I understand. Losing mine was difficult, especially since I banished him.

Golden Cheese: *shocked* D-Dark Choco? My nephew?

Dark Cacao: *looks away* Yes. Long story short, He went to find an ancient artifact that ended up leading him down a dark road. SInce the last Ive seen of him, he’s left that path. Before he left, I apologized for my idiocy of how I raised him. I have no idea where he is, but if he doesn't want to speak with me again, I’ll let it be.

Golden Cheese: Cacao… *reaches for his hand*

Dark Cacao: *takes her hand, looks at her* You still have a chance to try with yours. Take that chance, okay?

Golden Cheese: *sniffles, nods* Okay.. *gets up* Let’s go start the ritual again.

*the two meet up with the others, getting the ritual set up before midday. Olive sets up a bowl the incense of the falcon sarcophagus, letting it burn since others did their part. The smoke drifted into the coffin, the object beginning to glow as Golden Cheese bent light into the cracks of the sarcophagus.*

*Once it was done, Dark Cacao opens the lid. *

* A young man sits up, groaning a bit. He had long red hair that made it to his feet, scars all down to his right arm under his ruined cape. He had messy red wind, dirty and unkempt from his time in the sarcophagus, some even falling off*

??: *looking around in a confused start, soon turning to fear. His ear tufts were puffed up, shaking as he was trying to stand up*

Golden Cheese: S-Smokey…? Smoked Cheese? *reaches out to him*

Smoked Cheese: *gasps, swats her hand away* *ends up falls out of the sarcophagus, starts running knowing Pure Vanilla and Olive out of the way*

Pure Vanilla: *falls* Ah! Oh no!!

Olive: *adjusting her glasses* He’s definitely awake!

Golden Cheese: Smoked Cheese, wait!! *spreads her wings, flies after him*

Dark Cacao: Golde- *grunts, helps White Lily up* C’mon, they couldn't have gotten far!

Pure Vanilla: Poor thing, he must be frightened…

Dark Cacao: *shakes his head* No.. worse than that.

*Meanwhile, Smoked Cheese was running through the hallway, pushing past other workers and Cheesebirds. He was trying to use his wings, but they were too stiff and messed up for him to fly. Golden Cheese flew after him, yelling his name.*

Golden Cheese: *flapping her wings* Smoked Cheese, slow down!

*Smoked Cheese doesn't hear her, not watching where he was going.. He ended up tripping down a flight of stars. With the adrenaline rush slowing down in his body, he became too weak to stand up. Everything was hurting, but It didn't stop him though, as he tried to crawl his way out to the doors. But was stopped by vines, wrapped around him*

White Lily: *using plant magic* Gotcha!!

Smoked Cheese: *struggling, panicked breaths* Gotta get out, gotta get out- *crying, makeup streaks down his face* No, no nonononon…

Pure Vanilla: *gasps* Lily, put him down!! He’s panicking!!

White Lily: *immediately retracts the vines and sets Smoked down on the floor, seeing him hug himself tight*

*Golden Cheese lands nearby, walking over slowly while Vanilla and Lily stay by the stairs*

Golden Cheese: *kneels down, worried* Smokey..? Baby bird, can you hear me?

Smoked Cheese: *sobbing, hugging his arms* I-I… I need to..

Golden Cheese: Ssh.. *gently wraps her wings around him, pulling him close.* Ssh.. breathe, Smokey..

*Dark Cacao and Olive with Mozzarella, the archaeologist pushing the princess in her wheelchair*

Mozzarella: *gasps* Smokey!!

Golden Cheese: I got him, dear… *looks down at him, cupping his face* Smokey..? Smoked Cheese, can you hear me? Come back to me, my baby bird…

Smoked Cheese: *panting, looks up* Y-Your majesty..?

Golden Cheese: *shakes her head* No. Mother is here, Smokey..

Smoked Cheese: I-I… *sniffles, shaking* I can’t be here.. I t-took the Soul Jam… I-I tried t-to k-k-kill you…

*Pure Vanilla and White Lily gasp, while Dark Cacao gives them a nod*

Golden Cheese: *sighs*…That is in the past, Smoked Cheese. You had a point to your words, I was selfish. And arrogant. And being a brat..

Smoked Cheese: Mother…

Golden Cheese: But I could NEVER be mad at you. I love you so much, my son..

Smoked Cheese: *hugs her tight, sobs* M-Mother…!

Golden Cheese: *smiles, hugs back* Smokey… *rubs his back* I missed you so much..

Mozzarella: *asks Olive to move her closer, smiling at her family* Smokey!! You’re awake!

Smoked Cheese: *looks up* Mozzi…? Mozzarella!

*He tries to stand up, but Golden Cheese helps him hoddle over to her. He sat down besides Mozzarella’s wheelchair, resting his head on her lap*

Mozzarella: *Smiles, runs a hand through his hair* Told you Mother’s plan would work..

Smoked Cheese: Forgive me… I-I was a fool…

Mozzarella: We all were. I’m just glad I can touch your hair again..

Smoked Cheese: *chuckles*

Golden Cheese: *smiles* C’mon, lets get a bed for you to rest in. *goes to help Smoked Cheese stand.*

Dark Cacao: *walks over to Cheese family, nods* Allow me. * easily picks up Smoked Cheese to carry him

Smoked Cheese: Ah! U-um…

Golden Cheese: Easy dear. They are a friend of mine.

Smoked Cheese: O-Okay…

*Soon Smoked Cheese was brought over to the medical wing where he would be treated. Mozzarella stayed with him for comfort, holding his hand through the process.*

Smoked Cheese: *wincing as his wing were cleaned* Ow,Ow!

Servant: *add disinfectant* I apologize, your highness. But I do need to add on this so your wings wont get infected.

Smoked Cheese: Ugh, it stinks.. Who made this stuff?

Mozzarella: *tinkering with her bracelet* Lady White Lily. Mother’s friend.

Smoked Cheese; Right, right… I almost forget Mother has friends outside of the kingdom. Its..its nice we get to meet them.

Mozzarella: And I heard they have kids like us! Maybe we get to meet them one day!

Smoked Cheese: *chuckles* Maybe.

Mozzarella: You think we should do something nice for Mother? After all, she is the one waking us up.

Smoked Cheese: *thinks, sits up* *looks at the servant* Excuse me, do you know where the general's quarters would be?

Servant: across from the Royal Quarters and near the cold springs, my liege.

Smoked Cheese: *looks at Mozzarella, smiles* We have work to do.

#cookie run #cookie run kingdom #crk headcanons #golden cheese cookie #golden cheese kingdom #smoked cheese cookie #mozzarella cookie #olive cookie #dark cacao cookie #pure vanilla cookie #white lily cookie

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teyvat-writer · 1 year ago

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What if characters gave you furniture alongside their namecards? - Sumeru

Al Haitham gives you a replica of his chisel light mirrors

Kaveh gives you a to-scale model of The Palace of Alcazarzaray

Nahida gives you a lil' irminsul bonsai

Wanderer gives you a small, golden feather

Dori gives you a large cushion/plush that looks like her jinni

Faruzan gives you something similar to a small sand garden, but it's a device that contains small anemo polyhedrons (think about her burst and skill) that roll around at random

Dehya gives you an eyeshadow palette- it's full of smoky colours, accented by pops of red and shimmering metals, the case design similar to that of her hand mirrors'

Collei gives you a Cuilein-Anbar plushie

Tighnari gives you an incense burner designed to look like a Vijnana Stormheart

Candace gives you a replica of her shield and spear

Layla gives you a globe that looks much like her burst (let's hope she doesn't fall asleep while handing it to you)

Cyno gives you a suuuuper fancy TCG card box (think like the YuGiOh golden sarcophagus tins but actually made of gold and inlaid with precious gems)

Nilou gives you a padisarah made of hydro- it sparkles hypnotically in the light

#genshin headcanons #genshin dehya #genshin alhaitham #genshin kaveh #genshin dori #genshin faruzan #genshin layla #genshin candace #genshin nilou #genshin tighnari #genshin cyno #genshin collei #genshin nahida #genshin wanderer

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angel-of-the-moons · 6 months ago

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Nothing Is Lost

Khonshu x Fem!Reader

TW/CW: Nothing yet! Well... Maybe the angst. Hehehe

A/N: Please save my from my hyperfixation of the angry old bird man. Also, new characters, who dis? owo

Taglist: @drinkingwithkhonshu @astrosphereblog @themostegotisticalgirl124 @patchesofwork

Chapter: 11

Styx And Stones

The air was still, dead. There were no sounds here, not even insects to chirp incessantly at him as his feet silently crept on the stone floors.

The walls were preserved thanks only in part to his magic; the paint still looking as fresh as the day it had dried. His hand ran along the wall, his eyes tracing every motif, marking, word and face.

The most prominent, a woman. A woman whose painting did no justice even close to how she would have looked had you stared at her in the flesh; her twinkling green eyes, her soft giddy smile...

His beloved. His beauty.

And here he was, walking around her gravesite like a ghost; as he had for literal lifetimes, still feeling the throb of his grief as though it had happened yesterday.

A fine layer of dust covered many of the items scattered in the tomb, some thin sheets worn delicate with age; dresses--one of her favorites included; a dress made entirely of various beads--laid out as though they were waiting for her to wake up and select her clothing for the day.

But that day was not to come. Nostalgia plagued him as his gloved fingers brushed through the layer of dust as his hand cupped the cheek of her bust, sat perfectly in place among her things, the gold collar she adored so much glittering even among the dust and the dark.

His fingers trailed over the stone lips before bringing them to his own and returning them to the bust; his best approximation of a kiss. It was nowhere near as fulfilling as when her soft skin would press against his, but... It was all he had left. Just her portraits, her image, and the ghosts of her lingering still hanging in the air like a steel curtain.

His shoes were still silent with every step as he made his way into the main burial chamber, his eyes drawn to the stone sarcophagus in the middle of the chamber. A hole in the ceiling--a false skylight--let in bright rays of his magical moonlight, hitting various gold and silver mirrors, providing soft light to illuminate the room, highlighting the clouds of dust that wafted about as the air was disturbed by his presence.

At the foot of the sarcophagus was a small miniature. Painted to look like the home she inhabited while she was alive, the small basin of water meant to signify her favorite pond long dried; the small budding papyrus plants and lotuses long withered and dead. Small wood and clay statues signifying the date palm, fruit, and sycamore trees around the pond laden with dust; like everything else in the tomb.

His palms spread out over the stone of the sarcophagus, lovingly painted with blessings and spells; stories from friends and loved ones of who she was, what she did, and how her very existence brightened so very many lives.

His included; in ways he didn't expect a mortal to ever inspire him.

He hung his head low, the inscription of her name painted vibrantly and with much love and detail by one of his very own priests. Hell, his priest, his Fist at the time, was the very one to help him prepare her tomb.

She was as much a family to him as though she were his own sister; her death pained him as much as it did everyone else's own hearts. He remembered seeing the tears fall down his face, smudging his eyeliner and causing it to run in black rivers down his cheeks as he administered the final prayers as her coffin was lowered into the sarcophagus.

Khonshu's only and greatest guilt was that he never sounds the identity of her killer, that he never got to see that justice was delivered and the life leave the perpetrator's eyes with his own.

The light dimmed, leaving the chamber in pitch black nothingness; a void he himself has felt like he was swimming through since her life left this world and departed into the next.

"I am sorry, Merit." He whispered softly, his palms curling into fists as his head hung low.

"Okay, miss, the doctor is ready for you, now." The receptionist told you as she slid the glass divider closed once again.

Your fingers tapped your knees anxiously, bouncing as you swallowed the lump of anxiety that had lodged itself in your esophagus before standing, your fingers tapping your thighs as the door to the back of the office opened up for you.

A woman whose skin was spotted and slightly wrinkled; almost stretched too tight over her hooked nose and sharp cheekbones, thick curly auburn hair going silver at her temples. A mole beneath her left eye, her irises a deep green behind her thickly-rimmed glasses. Honestly... she looked more like some sort of librarian than a doctor, but... you had to take what you could get, given your lack of funds and what your insurance would and wouldn't cover.

You step past her and she smiles her thin lips at you, "Well hello, dear. It's nice to meet you, my name is Doctor Pritchard, but you can call me Gale."

"Ah... right. It's... nice to meet you. Um. Gale." You say, trying out the overly sweet woman's name on your tongue. It felt weird, syrupy, almost, but not in a comforting way.

"This way, sweetie." She says, stepping into a door to your right, holding the door open for you to walk in.

The office was rustically decorated. It felt like you were in some sort of log cabin than a psychiatrist's office. She had large flat screens placed strategically on the walls to resemble windows; the real windows covered with thick rugs (or were they tapestries?) to block out the "unsightly" scenery of the city outside.

One the screens was different views of some sort of valley nestled between some mountains. Birds flew by, the trees and tall grass and flowers swayed softly in the breeze; a herd of deer stop to sip at the lake before prancing away. It really did feel soothing to look at, honestly. Cosy, and warm. A far cry from the sterile waiting room you were forced to anxiously chew your nails in before your appointment.

"Okay!" Gale said, gesturing for you to sit on the rather vintage-looking sofa across from her rocking chair, pulling out her tablet and opening a file to begin constructing on you.

"Now, what made you want to schedule an appointment with me, sweetheart?" She hummed at you, tapping away on her tablet.

Your legs begin bouncing again as you awkwardly sink into the too-soft cushions of the couch, chewing the inside of your cheek.

"Well, I--" You sigh, running a hand trough your hair as you try to find a way to explain without sounding like a crazy person.

You swallow deeply, your jaw set tight as you glance away from her and to the soft shaggy carpet.

"It's okay, sweetheart. This is a safe place." She assures you gently, her voice exuding a gentle, motherly tone to encourage you to spill your guts. You tried to ignore the angry pit of snakes that were roiling about in your gut.

"I've been... I've been having night terrors for as long as I can remember. They've gotten... worse. I'm not sleeping, and I--I've been dreaming even when I'm awake, and..."

You start babbling, all the stress and strain of the past several weeks finally slamming down hard on your shoulders, destroying that dam you'd constructed to try and keep the building waters of stress and confusion at bay.

You drop your head in your hands when your throat finally goes dry from your constant speaking, your hands shaky as you try to gather your scattered thoughts; "I just... I... I don't know what to do, or... or how to... to explain what the dreams are."

Gale picks up her phone and unlocks it, tapping something away hastily, "Describe the most vivid scenery you can for me, dear. One that evokes calm and peace."

"Ah, uh..." You balk, trying to think. There were so many, but...

"A.... a pond. It opens up into... into the Nile. There are stone pillars, trees, bushes, flowers... fish. The sky is clear and... the wind isn't too rough." You moisten your dry lips with your tongue and continue: "I could walk out onto the banks of the river. There were plants growing on the banks. I could..."

Your eyes seem to stare off, your mind disconnecting momentarily as you paint the scene as best you could with your words.

"I could see some kind of--of building or something. Boats on the water. Fisherman, maybe... I... I'm sorry but that's all I can..."

"No, no that's very good." Gale assured you brightly. "It helps me with this."

You look up at the "window" screens, and it goes from the peaceful mountain lake scenery to... to an image of an environment you'd dreamt about and imagined and haunted your dreams.

The banks of the Nile, calm and glassy in the early morning--or was it evening?--as birds stayed motionless in the sky, the date trees standing tall and proud around the banks. Scrubby brush, bushes and papyrus plants are visible as well; the most prominent being the buildings in the distance.

It takes her a minute, but she puts the image through some kind of program that animated the water, makes the trees sway and moves the birds in the sky in the background, the fronds of the trees swaying ever so slightly.

"Give me... just a moment." She murmurs, tapping away some more.

After a few seconds, the sounds of water, plants, insects, animals and faint music began to play, and you feel your heartbeat quicken slightly. Neither were exactly as your mind remembered them but... they were close.

You felt a pang of longing in your heart, your stomach twisting as the nest of snakes calm for the moment; no longer striking out within you, instead settling for coiling and slithering over one another. Not as violent as before, but still unsettling.

"I... h-how did you..."

"It's all a part of how I conduct sessions. It puts your mind a bit into the scenery of what you dream about." She said, smiling sweetly at you once again. "My way of conducting sessions is a bit of auditorial and visual relaxation. It's also why my office is so... Comfortable. It's styled off of my daddy's old office he had when I was a little girl! Certainly helps me conduct my work."

You saw in reviews online that her methods were... unconventional. Unconventional, but cheap. Which is ideally what you wanted. You simply couldn't afford a therapy bill that'd wound your wallet (and credit) for years to come.

"Now... there is... another thing I can do to help you get in to the mindset is... well." She chuckled softly, almost sounding like the soft hooting of an owl. "I can put you under a state of hypnosis. Or, well... almost-hypnosis. A trance. Would you like that?"

You chewed your lip. The logical part of your brain knew that realistically... hypnosis was a very controversial subject in the field of psychology. It can be used to manipulate people's thoughts or memories, plant false ones, even. It just wasn't... right.

But then again, your life was anything but "right" lately, wasn't it?

"Okay."

"Wonderful." Gale sighed softly, looking up at you. "Now... lie back on the couch and close your eyes."

You do as she says, your lashes kissing your cheeks as you try and will your body to replace; your pulse still fluttering wildly in your veins, your stomach still rioting with anxiety.

"I want you to loosen every muscle in your body and focus on the sounds I have playing on the speakers. Remember the scenery you explained to me. Imagine yourself standing in the waters of that little pond..."

You hum a peaceful tune as the cool water kisses your ankles, soaking the thin linen of your dress, causing it to stick to your skin as you move deeper into the calm, gentle waves. Birds chirp and the breeze graces your skin gently, the sun occasionally disappearing behind some puffy clouds, granting a moment's respite from the harsh heat.

The baby in your arms coos softly, her big golden-brown eyes glimmer up at you as she babbles; the dark mess of hair on her little head a stark contrast to her skin; the color reminding you of fresh clay before it was shaped. She got her skin tone from her father, definitely.

"Now, Heba..." You giggle as she grasps a lock of your wig, her chubby little fingers trying to grab the shiny beads braided in. You urge your finger into her fat little fist, distracting her enough that she looks at you once again, blinking her curious young eyes up at you in wonder; her round cheeks almost obscuring her eyes as she smiles, the hints of bottom teeth peeking through her gums.

Heba squirms as the water reaches above your waist, tickling her little toes as they poke through the cloth you have her partially swaddled in.

You reach down and pluck a lotus from the water and inhale the sweet perfume that comes from its not-quite-blue center, before holding it beneath Heba's nose, letting her sniff it. Apparently, her little nose did not like it, given how violently she sneezed, a short squeak coming from her and making you laugh.

Her little lip began to wobble as she sniffled, her beautiful eyes welling up with tears--as if you played some sort of mean joke on her. You tuck the lotus behind your own ear and lift her up, peppering chubby cheeks with kisses; kissing away her tears until she cooed and giggled, shoving your face away from her.

Strong arms circle your waist, warm breath tickles your neck as lips leave a soft trail to the skin behind your ear. Heba babbles at him and you can't help but giggle as she tucks herself against your breast, grasping at your gown as she attempts to converse.

"You are a natural with her." His warm voice murmurs against your skin.

"Yes, I do have experience with babies, after all. I remember helping take care of my little brother." You sigh wistfully, remembering how it felt to hold him for that very first time... how fragile and delicate he was before he grew into the boy he would forever be remembered as, even in death.

"I know." He whispers leaning his head over your shoulder so the both of you could peer down at Heba, her innocent eyes blinking up at the both of you with unfiltered, raw trust in her gaze.

Your lover's hand reaches around you and brushes her cheek affectionately. "I am glad I had a hand in her birth. She is a charming girl."

"Oh, and I have a feeling many will be throwing their bundles at her in desperation when she's older. She will be a beauty, that's for certain." You giggle as he nuzzles your shoulder, planting another kiss there.

"A beauty, like you. Let's hope your influence rubs off on her, hm?"

You sigh as Heba snuggles against you again, a small yawn cutely coming from her pouty lips. She would need to be put down for her mid-day rest, soon.

"Merit." His honey-rich voice says as his breath ghosts over your skin.

"Hm?"

"You--"

--sit up with a jolt as a cold cloth is placed on your forehead, your hands scrambling to grip the edges of the couch as your eyes blearily focus on the older woman in front of you.

"Oh, goodness! I was getting worried!" Gale sighs at you, fanning herself in relief. "You started talking in another language in the end, there, dear!"

The sounds of the water, the music, and even the bellow of a hippopotamus in the background is no longer soothing--it is overstimulating you, your heart fluttering wildly like a bird trying to flee a too-small cage.

"Turn it off." You whisper, feeling how damp with sweat your clothing had become.

Gale furrowed her brows at you, but relented, getting up to hit the mute button on the audio track she had pulled up, once more switching the Nile scenery back to the same lakeside view that had been there before you sat down.

"Is that better, sweetie?" Gale asked gently.

Your hands trembled and you wiped your sweaty palms on your thighs, your jeans soaking up your dampness quickly. "Yes. Please. Are we done?" You babble nervously.

"Well... almost, actually. You have five minutes left." Gale said, lifting her eyes to check the cuckoo clock above the doorway.

You shudder, cradling your head in your hands as you made a frustrated sob. Why was this happening to you? You should have known agreeing to that hypnosis shit would be a bad idea!

"Did any... anything I said make sense?" You croak.

"Well, you certainly described much of it in vivid detail. You couldn't describe the man you were imagining," Gale murmured aloud as she wrote something down on her tablet. "Which actually makes sense."

"Makes sense?" You echo, lifting your eyes in shock to look at her as she nods firmly, smiling at you.

"Yes. You are under entirely too much stress, sweetie." She says sadly, fixing you with a sympathetic look. "It isn't uncommon in extreme cases of exhaustion, sleep-depravation, stress and anxiety for our minds to create these... these vivid scenarios for us to escape to--to "run away" from the stress, basically."

Your mouth twists in revulsion at the idea. That wasn't at all what this was! You knew in your heart that it wasn't. Hell, you have an ancient god that occasionally shows up to annoy the piss out of you!

"I don't think--" You start, but Gale cuts you off again, continuously tapping on her tablet the entire time.

"You created this elaborate fantasy, it sounds like, from various forms of input from media you've consumed over the years. I'm guessing you've seen The Mummy a multitude of times as a child?"

"Well, yes, but--"

"And provided that with some school projects, trips to the museums, late-night documentaries... Your mind went to a place in time where the problems you suffer with simply didn't exist. You seem to have a family, a lover, a child! It's a common "apple pie" fantasy as I call it." Gale clicks with her tongue, looking up at you.

"It gives your mind a respite--an escape to a life you think is unattainable given your current circumstances."

You grind your teeth, biting your tongue as she continues to seemingly dismiss your situation entirely as some sort of fantasy you created; nevermind the fact that you've been suffering with dreams and these vivid scenarios since childhood, apparently!

You cut her off as she continues to ramble, "You said I was talking in another language." You grunt, your jaw grinding.

"Why, yes! You were, dear." Gale nods, not bothered by your otherwise rude interruption.

"Okay, if I made up that scenario," You say, leaning with your palms on your knees while your eyes narrowed at her. "How do you explain that?"

"Oh, it can be much of the same as to how you made up that little fantasy," She said casually. "You live in New York, dear. You probably heard the language spoken enough times your brain decided to pick up on it. I'm quite certain you were talking gibberish. Almost like sleep-talk."

You remind yourself to unclench your jaw and suppress the urge to shout at this silly old lady for dismissing almost everything you've pointed out or said as she rattled off her diagnosis and prescriptions she decided to give you...

This was getting ridiculous!

You angrily balled up the prescription notes and tossed them in the trash can outside, making a mental note to write a review about how dismissive this woman was, when you got home. If she induced her "hypnosis" often in her clients, who knows what she was else doing?!

You didn't notice however, a face in the crowd. A tall man, dark hair, hazel eyes, unmoving despite the bustle of the people around him, his suit a crisp stark white.

You didn't notice how he tilted his head at you, a curious and suspicious glimmer within his steady gaze.

Chapter 12: Link

#moon knight #khonshu x reader #moon knight khonshu #Khonshu x you #Khonsu #Nothing Is Lost

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monstersinthecosmos · 6 months ago

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okay I think we should take inventory of what we learned about Marius's house.

In fact, the impression was one of comfortable messiness.

(i think the tiktok kids started calling ADHD clutter clustering or something LMAO marius de romanus cluster girlie i guess. thanks i hate it)

Here's some stuff that Marius had on his island!!!!!!!

stone benches

a lighted oil lamp on a stand

a pair of heavy wooden doors

a sarcophagus with a plain lid, cleanly fashioned out of diorite

The lid plated in iron and contained

a golden mask, its features carefully molded, attached to a hood made up of layered plates of hammered gold.

a pair of leather gloves covered completely in tinier more delicate gold plates like scales.

a large folded blanket of the softest red wool with one side sewn with larger gold plates

Magnificent Grecian urns on pedestals in the corridors

great bronze statues from the Orient

exquisite plants at every window and terrace open to the sky.

Gorgeous rugs from India, Persia, China c

giant stuffed beasts mounted in lifelike attitudes-

--the brown bear,

--the lion,

--the tiger,

--even the elephant standing in his own immense chamber,

--lizards as big as dragons,

--birds of prey clutching dried branches made to look like the limbs of real trees.

brilliantly colored murals covering every surface from floor to ceiling

a dark vibrant painting of the sunburnt Arabian desert complete with an exquisitely detailed caravan of camels and turbaned merchants moving over the sand

a jungle warming with delicately rendered tropical blossoms, vines, carefully drawn leaves

creatures everywhere in the texture of the jungle-

--insects,

--birds,

--worms in the soil-

too many monkeys in the jungle,

too many bugs crawling on the leaves.

thousands of tiny insects in one painting of a summer sky.

a large gallery walled on either side by painted men and women staring at me

Figures from all ages these were-

--bedouins,

--Egyptians,

--Greeks and Romans,

--knights in armor,

--peasants

--kings

--queens.

--Renaissance people in doublets and leggings,

--the Sun King with his massive mane of curls,

--people of our own age.

droplets of water clinging to a cape,

the cut on the side of a face,

the spider half-crushed beneath a polished leather boot.

a library, blazing with light.

Walls and walls of books and

rolled manuscripts,

giant glistening world globes in their wooden cradles,

busts of the ancient Greek gods and goddesses,

great sprawling maps.

Newspapers in all languages lay in stacks on tables.

Fossils,

mummified hands,

exotic shells.

bouquets of dried flowers,

figurines and fragments of old sculpture,

alabaster jars covered with Egyptian hieroglyphs.

comfortable chairs with footstools,

candelabra or oil lamps.

a forest of cages.

birds of all sizes and colors

monkeys

baboons,

Potted plants crowded against the cages-

--ferns and

--banana trees,

--cabbage roses,

--moonflower,

--jasmine,

--other sweetly fragrant nighttime vines.

purple and white orchids,

waxed flowers that trapped insects in their maw,

little trees groaning with peaches and lemons and pears.

a hall of sculptures equal to any gallery in the Vatican museum.

adjoining chambers full of paintings,

Oriental furnishings,

mechanical toys.

fine rosewood paneling with framed mirrors rising to the ceiling.

painted chests,

upholstered chairs,

dark and lush landscapes,

porcelain clocks.

A small collection of books in the glass-doored bookcases,

a newspaper of recent date lying on a small table beside a brocaded winged chair.

the stone terrace. where banks of white lilies and red roses gave off their powerful perfume.

a pair of winged chairs that faced each other

a dozen or so candelabra and sconces on the paneled walls.

brocade cushions

#marius de romanus #tvl quotes #the vampire lestat #marius's elephant tag #tag urself im worms in the soil #Vampire chronicles

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darknesseddiem · 9 months ago

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𝐀𝐧𝐮𝐛𝐢𝐬'𝐬 𝐕𝐞𝐢𝐥: 𝐄𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐄𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐲

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: Amidst the dawn of creation, when deities strode the earth as equals among mortals, humanity thrived in serene unity, untouched by the grasping tendrils of greed that would later mar the landscape. Stirred by the inherent goodness of their subjects, the divine council elected to endow them with a peerless boon: a guardian, a celestial warrior sculpted by the ethereal hands of the gods, ordained to safeguard the vulnerable and uphold equity amongst all.

Yet, the idyllic tranquility swiftly dissolved into a harrowing nightmare. With no need for celestial intervention, humanity succumbed to the seductive allure of avarice and pride, exploiting the guardian-warrior as an inexhaustible wellspring for their desires. Gold, jewels, fineries—all were but a whispered command away, conjured effortlessly by his boundless power.

Thus dawned the era of enslavement, a grim testament to humanity's descent into moral decay, as the defenseless fell beneath the yoke of callous overlords devoid of empathy. As calamity flourished and the divine pantheon grieved the degradation of their once-beloved charges, a decree resounded through the hallowed halls of eternity: the token of gratitude and trust bestowed upon mortals would be reclaimed and returned to its celestial sanctum.

Yet, the gods failed to anticipate a pivotal revelation: the guardian-warrior, born of their divine essence and combined prowess, surpassed even his creators in strength. Fearing his uprising following their futile attempts at annihilation, they decreed the most severe of punishments: eternal imprisonment.

Unaware of the extent of his own power, the warrior endured a punishing ordeal, encased within a sarcophagus of obsidian and unyielding stone, assailed by the venomous embrace of serpents and scorpions, his form suffused with chilled mercury—a spectral warden, condemned to an eternity of solitary confinement.

A formidable curse, imbued with the arcane power of millennia past, was woven into the fabric of his sarcophagus, its hieroglyphs serving as a dire warning to any who dared disturb the seal imprisoning the warrior, lest they unleash unfathomable chaos upon the world once more. However, amidst the shadows of time, an ancient prophecy, shrouded in the enigma of celestial movements and cosmic whispers, stood poised to redefine the very tapestry of humanity's fate.

In the heart of an unprecedented archaeological endeavor, an intrepid explorer embarks upon a quest of unparalleled magnitude, driven by the tantalizing allure of uncovering secrets buried deep within the sands of antiquity. Yet, intertwined with her journey lies a prophecy etched into the annals of time itself—a prophecy veiled in mystery, its origins lost in the mists of history, foretelling a cataclysmic confrontation between forces ancient and divine.

As the threads of destiny unfurl, two diametrically opposed forces emerge from the annals of legend: one heralding the dawn of salvation, the other portending an abyssal descent into darkness. Amidst this cosmic conflict, the archaeologist finds herself cast as a pivotal figure, entwined in the struggle between light and shadow, tasked with deciphering the enigmatic prophecies that hold the key to humanity's ultimate fate.

In this crucible of uncertainty, where the past converges with the present and the future hangs in the balance, the question lingers like a specter haunting the recesses of the mind: Can the immutable laws of destiny be defied, or does the intrepid explorer possess the audacity to chart a new course for humanity, rewriting the very fabric of existence itself?

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: +18 MDNI, violence, torture, Eddie has a demi-god name, etc. More will be added later.

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞: It's been a while since I had this idea and after my hiatus I finally had time to write, I hope you like this baby of mine just as I already have a huge affection for this story. Thank you for your support, I'll be back soon!! TAGLIST IS OPEN.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟏𝐤

𝐍𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫.

If you like my works, support me with a small 𝐊𝐨-𝐅𝐢!!

𝐆𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐚𝐫𝐲

𝐀 𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐃𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐲: Sutenankh, once revered for valor, finds himself ensnared in the ethereal confines of divine justice. As he awaits his fate within the celestial sanctum of Horus, his heart heavy with remorse, the gods decree eternal imprisonment. Meanwhile, a clandestine pact between Anubis and Horus births a prophecy of hope for a future liberator. Betrayal, anguish, and the weight of celestial retribution collide in a tale where virtue and destiny intertwine.

𝐉𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐲 𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐔𝐧𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐧: Ramses Thothmes, a wealthy Egyptian magnate, extends an invitation for a new excavation, promising untold secrets hidden beneath the desert's surface. As you convene with Thothmes to discuss the venture, a new figure emerges from the shadows �� the enigmatic Colonel Duncan Smith.

Under Smith's watchful eye, the expedition sets forth into uncharted territory, where ancient ruins conceal dark secrets and lethal perils.

#darknesseddiemfics #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie smut #eddiemunson #dark!eddie munson #eddie munson x f!reader #eddie munson smut #eddie x reader #eddie stranger things #eddie munson angst #eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson imagine #bestfriend!eddie munson #older!eddie munson #demigod!eddie munson

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creativesnek · 1 year ago

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Death will not do us part

The moon hung high in the night sky, casting an ethereal glow over the ancient tombstones that dotted the royal graveyard. The air was heavy with a sense of solemnity, as if even nature itself recognized the sacredness of this hallowed ground. Silence enveloped the area, broken only by sporadic sounds that seemed to emerge from the shadows.

Occasionally, a mischievous Boo cackle would echo through the stillness, its eerie laughter sending shivers down one's spine. These playful spirits, known for their spectral pranks and tricks, found solace in this realm of eternal rest. Their ethereal voices danced on the wind, adding an otherworldly charm to the otherwise somber atmosphere.

Amidst the Boo's haunting laughter, an owl hoot resonated through the night. The wise creature perched on a branch nearby, its golden eyes gleaming with ancient knowledge.

The Boo looked at the glorious sarcophagi, staring longingly at the jewels encrusted on the surfaces. They were captivated by the shimmering gemstones, their translucent forms yearning for the touch of earthly riches. Though they could not physically interact with the sarcophagi, their spectral fingers traced the intricate patterns carved into the stone, as if trying to absorb the opulence through ethereal means.

As the Boo continued to marvel at the treasures before them, a soft whisper filled their ears. They floated toward a particular sarcophagus. Judging by the new design and intact luster, this person passed recently. The Boo looked at the placard floating on top of it, curious to know whose grave this was.

The whisper turned into a groan.

The heavy lid of the sarcophagus shifted as a large, skeletal claw moved it aside. A glowing red eye stared at the Boo. The spirit yelped and covered their eyes. The skeletal figure emerging from the sarcophagus. Its bones creaked and cracked with each movement, as if it hadn't been disturbed in centuries. The red eye continued to glow ominously, piercing through the darkness of the graveyard.

With a raspy voice that sent shivers down the Boo's ethereal spine, the skeletal being spoke. “Finally,” it said. “The month of fright is here.”

The constant eye-contact was too much for the shy spirit, so they vanished. The skeletal being cackled as other sarcophagi opened. A dozen other skeletons rose from the graves, sporting spiked shells and bracelets. The red-eyed one looked at his reflection on the lid and fixed the hair on his skull into a bun.

“There he goes to see his husband.”

“Every fright month…”

“I still think he should have married that Mushroom Princess.”

The other Dry Koopas stared at the one who said that disapprovingly, causing them to slink back into the sarcophagus. A Dry Bone with a metallic gold shell crossed her arm and touched her cheek, “Look at him. Ever since he met and married that little human, he’s been so happy, even after death,” she said.

“Their rule over the Darklands was glorious! They brought peace and honor to our kingdom,” said a male Dry Koopa.

“Bowser may have had a rough life at first, but everything worked out in the end.”

Bowser removed some moss on his ribs and adjusted his spiky accessories. He listened to their words, a faint smile playing on his skeletal face. He had come a long way from his days of loneliness and bitterness. Meeting Luigi had changed everything for him - he had shown him love, compassion, and the power of redemption. Satisfied with his appearance, the Koopa climbed out of his grave. “I’m heading out!”

“Travel safely, Bowser! And say hello to Luigi for me!”

“Bye, Mom!”

Other skeletal relatives bid their goodbyes. As he made his way across the graveyard, his bony tail wagged madly with excitement, causing a faint rattling sound that echoed through the night. Orbs of light appeared around the haunted space, casting an eerie glow. More members of the Royal Koopa Family arose from their graves and began to sing and dance; after all, they had a full thirty days of sentience to enjoy!

Bowser crossed the red gates protecting the graveyard and sprinted to the Boo Woods, ready to find his love.

The Dry Koopa looked at the dilapidated mansion before him. Its cracked walls and broken windows were a testament to the passage of time and neglect. As he stood there, a gust of wind blew through the decrepit structure, causing the remaining shutters to creak in protest. Windows and pillars were covered in vines and moss. Lightning struck overhead, lighting the eerie floors. Some of the windows had eerie yellow lights.

Bowser rattled with excitement as he knocked on the cracked door. The door eerily swung open on its own. He stepped forward into the darkness and looked around; the door slammed shut behind him. Eerie whispers echoed around him. Lights slowly turned on and furniture started to float. The Dry Koopa’s tail wagged, “Luigi, are you here?” he asked.

A chill went down his spine as something cold touched his shoulder and a voice replied, “Hello~”

The Dry Koopa turned his head around 180 degrees and smiled at the ghost behind him. His body was somewhat translucent with a greenish hue. The ghostly figure floated in front of the Dry Koopa, its ethereal form flickering in and out of existence. His once brown hair was now white and long; his overalls were replaced with a light green poet shirt, black pants, and boots.

Bowser grabbed the ghost and pulled him into a hug, nuzzling his skull against his face. Luigi squealed with joy. As Bowser embraced the ghostly figure, memories flooded back into his mind. The first date they went on, how Luigi became an ambassador and helped with the peace proceedings. How terrified they both were about announcing their relationship publicly and the pure joy on their wedding day. Luigi peppered ghostly kisses all over his face. “I missed you, amore,” he said.

The Koopa smiled. “I came here as soon as I woke up!” he said. “My mom says hi.”

“Oh, that’s sweet. Hopefully I can come visit the graveyard soon,”

Luigi linked arms with him, floating beside Bowser as he walked further into the haunted mansion. The two chatted, reminiscing on the good times when they were alive. As they strolled through the dimly lit corridors, memories of their past adventures flooded their minds. Luigi couldn't help but chuckle as he recalled the time Bowser accidentally got stuck in a warp pipe during one of their battles.

"Remember when we had to team up to defeat that giant Boo?" Luigi asked, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Bowser laughed heartily, his deep voice echoing through the eerie halls. "How could I forget? You were so scared, you jumped into my arms!"

They continued down the hallway, passing by portraits of long-deceased residents and cobweb-covered furniture. The mansion's ghostly inhabitants watched them curiously, some whispering among themselves. Seeing the undead couple was the highlight of the year, that and because other loved ones, no matter what dead form they took, could freely visit.

Luigi leaned his head on Bowser’s shoulder, “I hear Junior is doing well.”

Bowser chuckled. “Of course he is! He’s our son,” he said.

As they walked further into the mansion, Luigi couldn't help but feel a sense of nostalgia. The memories of their past adventures flooded his mind, reminding him of all the times they had fought against each other as enemies, only to eventually become allies and then husbands.

“All the Koopalings are faring well too,” he said.

Bowser nodded. “I’m glad there was no fighting over the throne after we passed,” he replied. “Hell, they even divided the kingdom amongst themselves.”

Luigi guided him down a hallway and into a massive ballroom; spirits floated all around, talking and dancing. Several pieces of furniture glided around the room. As Bowser and Luigi entered the grand ballroom, the ethereal atmosphere engulfed them. The spirits, adorned in elegant attire from various eras, gracefully twirled and conversed with one another. The room itself seemed alive, with chandeliers illuminating the space and casting a soft glow on the floating furniture.

The Boo glided around Bowser before standing before him. Luigi extended his hand and grinned, “Can I have this dance?”

“Always, my love.”

With a slight nod and a gentle smile, Bowser took Luigi's hand in his massive clawed one. Their touch sent shivers down their spines, but it was a comforting sensation that neither of them could deny. The Boo, sensing the intensity of the moment, dimmed the lights and conjured a soft melody that filled the room.

As the music began to play, Luigi and Bowser moved gracefully across the floor. Their steps were perfectly synchronized, each movement flowing effortlessly between them. Two souls that not even death could separate.

#bowuigi #bowser #luigi x bowser #luigi #fanfic #oneshot #bowuigi halloween event 2023 #halloween #spooktober #fluff #writerscorner #writers on tumblr #dry bowser #booigi

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erinptah · 2 months ago

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👋 hello

I've been following the CoK series for forever now, and my reread had me wondering something.

In the fics, Marc and Steven are primarily associated with the colors white and blue, respectively. This makes a lot of sense considering the clothes they wear in the duat. What made you choose the purple/pink situation for Jake? (As opposed to say, red, the color of his sarcophagus in the show? Or black, the main color he wears?)

I do feel like it fits him pretty well, but I'd like to know your thought process surrounding the colors.

(loving the current Deadpool series btw!)

Hello, and excellent question!

It's inspired by the MacKay run of the comics (starting in 2021, and he's still writing Moon Knight today, though it's cycled through 3 separate titles by now).

Comics Marc is keeping up An Image where he always wears "all white" or "white-and-black." Steven tends toward blues and greens (and his headspace domain is a neutral-toned office).

Jake...it's hard to tell what the actual colors are, because his headspace domain is a bar where everything is saturated with red/pink/purple neon lighting:

One more sample (not the original dialogue, it's my edit):

And this is my favorite take on comics Jake! Irreverent, sleazy but in a fun way, deeply protective and caring, dirtbag-with-a-heart-of-gold.

We've basically only seen MCU Jake in "dealing with an active deadly threat" mode. If/when we get a Season 2, and the writers have a chance to fill in what he's like the rest of the time, I hope they take some cues from MacKay Jake.

(It also ties in nicely with the Duat sarcophagus. Dark/dull red is for when Jake is trapped and threatened. Give the guy a chance to relax and have fun, and it brightens up to a nice hot pink.)

#Moon Knight #Ptah's inbox #Cover of Knight

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chaoticm0therfvcker · 8 months ago

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A Kingdom of Heartbreak

It had only been a mere week since Golden Cheese had lost her kingdom at the hands of Dark Enchantress Cookie, and the emotional wounds were still fresh. However, she found a random sarcophagus in the sand with a cute little cookie inside, and that discovery gave her the strength to rebuild her kingdom; just not in a conventional way

Tags: Tiny bits of fluff, the most gut-wrenching, heartbreaking angst known to man, Fettuccine cookie being a little cutie patootie, headcanons on the origins of Golden Cheese’s digital kingdom

It had only been a week since Golden Cheese lost her kingdom at the hands of Dark Enchantress Cookie. She didn’t even realize it at first, but when she returned to her kingdom, all that remained was the parmesan sand that her golden kingdom was built on. The sky was grey, dust blowing across the sandy plain, and all Golden Cheese Cookie could hear was the slight whistle of a gentle breeze.

She wanted to be mad, furious even. She wanted to revive Dark Enchantress just to put her spear through her chest over and over again. She wanted to scream, wanted to sob, wanted to laugh manically at the insanity of it all, but all she could feel was numbness. Cold, buzzing, cloudy numbness. She clutched powdery sand in her hands and watched it slip from her fingers, watched it slip away just like her kingdom did.

In her daze, Golden Cheese felt tears well in her eyes and she collapsed to her knees, holding herself up with her shaking arms. Soon, she heard her gasps and sobs fill the dry air, and she could see tears falling into the sand below as the reality of her situation finally set in.

She had just lost everything. Not just her kingdom, but her people as well. Burnt Cheese cookie, her loyal guard, with his long flowing hair, serious demeanor, and the many Jackals that followed him around like little puppies, likely because of the mask that resembled their own heads. Then there was Mozzarella Cookie, with her cheerful, upbeat demeanor, and the little jokes she would crack, her willingness to help others, and her mysterious intuition towards modern technology. Then of course, there was Smoked Cheese. He was strange, sure, and a bit distant, but he was still part of the kingdom, and still someone that Golden Cheese had tragically lost.

So now, she was wandering the glum desert, searching for some sort of remnants of her kingdom. Maybe a peace of scrap wood, or a little gold coin, just anything that gave her hope that maybe her kingdom wasn’t as lost as it seemed to be. But so far, her search was to no avail.

Today, she was searching the mines surrounding her kingdom. It was an old, rickety mineshaft that was used for mining gold, but even after it was no longer of use to the residents of the kingdom, it was still a popular place and a destination sought out by historians across Earthbread. There was gold dust, rusty railways, and old abandoned mine carts, but nothing from her kingdom; simply remnants of the miners themselves.

Then, she found something strange. It was a golden sarcophagus, painted with a design resembling her appearance, even with wings painted on the sides. It was slightly dented and coated with dust and sand, and yet it still seemed to glimmer in the light, as if it were fresh out of the factory. Golden Cheese placed her hand on it, admiring its intricate design. Then, she heard soft whimpering coming from inside of it.

At the sound of the whimper, Golden Cheese Cookie’s grief seemed to wash away in a quick moment, and she was back to her protective, yet slightly possessive self. Whatever what inside of this glorified metal box needed her help, and it was without a doubt something from her kingdom, simply from the fact that it was from the inside of a sarcophagus. Grabbing the side of it, she pulled as hard as she could, the door swinging open, almost off of its hinges, and out of it tumbled a little creature of some sort. Was it a jackal? Maybe the Big Cheesebird? After a closer look at the specimen, Golden Cheese realized it wasn’t any of her previous guesses. No…

It was a cookie.

She was a cute little thing, a young girl covered in fettuccine noodles that resembled the wrappings of a mummy, with messy hair tied up into pigtails with little multicolored farfalle bows. Letting out a quiet groan, the little girl sat upright and looked up at the ancient cookie kneeling in front of her.

“Hello.” She started, staring up at Golden Cheese curiously. Seeing the shocked look on Golden Cheese’s face however, caused her to put her head down glumly. “You… scared?”

Golden Cheese smiled weakly at the little cookie. “Of course not, sweetheart. I’m just a bit surprised, is all. Where did you come from?”

The young cookie shrugged. “The kingdom,” she replied matter of factly, “then, lots of shaking… and screaming… and big rocks falling… so I hid! And now…” she looked down at herself, observing her wrapped up arms and legs, “I’m a mummy!”

Golden Cheese felt herself start to tear up again as she realized that her suspicions were correct. This was a remnant of her kingdom, though not one she was overly happy to find. She had no idea how long that little girl had been hiding in there without food or water, and the treacherous parmesan desert was no place for an innocent little kid. Though, that little girl was part of her kingdom, and now she was her child, and she vowed to herself that she would do whatever necessary to keep this last part of her kingdom safe from harm.

“What is your name, little one?” Golden Cheese asked, scooping the little girl up into her arms.

“Fe- Fet-” the little girl struggled to say it at first, “Fettuccine Cookie.”

“Well, Fettuccine Cookie,” Golden Cheese started, “this desert is not a safe place for a sweet and defenseless cookie such as yourself, so why don’t we find you a safer place for you?” Murmuring, she added, “I need to find a place to live as well, hopefully someplace that isn’t as likely to be destroyed…”

With that, she spun on her heel to leave the mine. However, she didn’t notice a pressure plate hidden in the dust of the dimly lit mine, and when she stepped onto it, a deep chamber opened up beneath them, causing her, Fettuccine, and the sarcophagus to fall. Squeezing her eyes tightly shut, Golden Cheese cradled Fettuccine close to her chest, hoping to keep her safe.

When Golden Cheese opened her eyes, she jolted upright, gasping for air since the fall had knocked the wind out of her. Looking around at her surroundings, the first thing she noticed the darkness around her, seemingly endless. The second thing she noticed, however, was that Fettuccine was gone. Immediately, she stood.

“Fettuccine Cookie?” She yelled out, “Fettuccine, sweetheart, where are you?”

“Have no worries, the little one is safe.” An echoing voice announced, “it is you that I am worried about.”

“Huh?” Golden Cheese questioned under her breath, “Who are you, where am I? What’s going on?”

“You know who I am, or rather what I am, Golden Cheese Cookie,” the voice replied, “For I am the light of abundance. I am your soul jam.”

“So that must mean…”

“You are within our connected conscience, yes.” The voice replied before Golden Cheese could finish her sentence. “I am greatly sorry for the fall of your kingdom. I have never felt such overwhelming grief before.”

“It’s not like it even matters, anyway. It slipped out of my grasp at the hands of that monster, Dark Enchantress, and now it is gone.” Golden Cheese said in a hollow tone, trying to sound tough as her composure started to crack.

“Now, this is sounding nothing like you!” The voice exclaimed, “The Golden Cheese Cookie I know would be much less content with this kind of tragedy! Her greed knows no bounds, her love for gold and riches and prosperity never ending, and no matter what she has or what she’s grateful for, she’s constantly striving for more. The Golden Cheese I know wouldn’t let sand slip from her fingers aimlessly, she would grab as much of it as she could and grasp it so tightly that it has no ability to slip away! You’ve become a shell of your former self, your highness.”

“Well, that’s because I am.” Golden Cheese replied, “My kingdom is gone. All the gold, all the cookies, all the prosperity, everything! The very thing that is supposed to be an extension of my very existence has been destroyed. A piece of myself has been destroyed, so I am nothing like my former self and never will be again. Not until my kingdom has been returned to its previous glory.”

“What about the girl?”

“Fettuccine Cookie… is a part of the kingdom just as much as myself. I will cherish her and protect her until the day I die,” Golden Cheese replied, “but this desert is no place for a child, let alone one as frail as herself. I don’t even know how long she’s been in that sarcophagus, without food or water or anything more than her wrappings. If I cannot have my kingdom, then I want to find a place where she can be safe.”

“But what about you? A defenseless child needs a mother.” The voice asked.

“Well then I will stay right by her side,” Golden Cheese vowed, “I don’t care how long we have to travel, what kind of measures I have to take, I will ensure that Fettuccine Cookie finds a home in a place of prosperity and abundance, just like my kingdom! Nothing will get in my way…”

The voice chuckled. “There’s the Golden Cheese Cookie I know and love.”

Suddenly, there was a big flash of light. Golden Cheese had to shield her eyes from the brightness, but once she pulled her arm away from her eyes, a beautiful kingdom stood before her. There cookies driving fancy cars on roads that seemed to extend endlessly, stadiums and colosseums with bold fighters facing off against sand wyrms as curious civilians watched, and beautiful gold and green sparkles seemed to fill the sky. This place was so familiar to her…

This place was her kingdom, and she was standing on the stairs to the entrance to her castle. Fettuccine was in her arms again, nuzzled against her chest as slept peacefully. The kingdom was different than how she remembered it, but it did appear out of seemingly nowhere and she had been gone for some time, so she expected it to be different than how she had left it. Glancing down at herself, she noticed that she looked different as well. She was in a blue dress with gold and teal accents, with a white, green, and glittering blue skirt that reached her ankles. Tied around her waist was a dark blue scarf that seemed to also reach down to her ankles, flowing in the slight breeze. Wrapped around her wrists, arms, and ankles were golden arm bands that seemed to glow in the golden light of her kingdom, and on her ears were golden triangular earrings that seemed to glow as well. Even her spear and her crown and her wings were different. Her spear and crown were quite literally glowing, and the design of them seemed more intricate and ornate than before. Her wings were translucent, almost like silk, and were now white with golden edges and gold and green triangles seemingly stamped on them. As she observed her wings, she noticed that her hair was much longer than it was as well. It was still soft and fluffy, yet now it reached down past her waist. She looked like a goddess, ever radiant and ever shining as she readied herself to resume her role as the queen of this kingdom.

Walking inside of the castle, she noticed her royal guard, Burnt Cheese cookie, kneeling down beside his jackals and softly petting their fur. He likely got the news of her return, and decided that he could take a slight moment to let his guard down and take care of his beloved furry friends. Although it was somewhat unlike him, she was happy to see that; he deserved a break. Then, there was Mozzarella Cookie, chatting with the Big Cheese Bird, likely talking about needing to search for and retrieve something that he had lost yet again. Big Cheese Bird was always misplacing and losing things, but Mozzarella would always sweetly agreed. Golden Cheese admired her for her kindness, for her devotion to the people of her kingdom. Then of course, there was Smoked Cheese Cookie, leaned against a wall concealed by shadows, silently observing his surroundings.

Once she had finished talking to big Cheese Bird, Mozzarella turned and saw Golden Cheese, and a smile spread across her face. “Your highness! You’ve returned! Were you able to defeat Dark Enchantress Cookie?”

“I certainly hope so.” Golden Cheese replied, smiling softly, “We fought hard and she disappeared, though we can confidently say that we are safe from her darkness. Even if she does ever return, we will be ready.”

“That is amazing to hear, I am so happy that you’re back safe!” Mozzarella then looked down at Fettuccine. “And who is this little cutie?”

“This is Fettuccine Cookie,” Golden Cheese explained, “I found her out in the Parmesan desert, seemingly abandoned. She claims to be from here, so I decided to take her in and show her a life of luxury.”

Fettuccine Cookie awoke from her slumber and glanced up at Mozzarella Cookie. Noticing the bell in her hand, Fettuccine made a little grabby hand gesture at the bell. “Shiny!” She squeaked.

Mozzarella chuckled and showed her the bell. As Fettuccine observed it, Mozzarella’s smile faded slightly. “Something seems different about her…” she looked up at Golden Cheese as well, “about you, as well. Something seems off.”

“I’m sure it’s nothing,” Golden Cheese assured her, “I appreciate your concern, but if something is wrong I will do what I can to protect this kingdom! Now, if you’ll excuse me, I think I am going to show Fettuccine around the kingdom.”

Mozzarella shrugged. “Okay then. I’m sure it’s nothing, it probably just has something to do with the fact that you’ve been gone so long. Go on and enjoy yourselves!” She then walked off, resuming her work while mumbling a sequence of ones and zeros under her breath.

Golden Cheese smiled slightly and started to walk away, observing the beauty of her surroundings. Something was definitely different about this place, but regardless, it was her kingdom, and she was going to protect it at all costs.

It felt good to be home.

In reality, though, Golden Cheese was at the bottom of the trap she had set off, resting peacefully inside of the sarcophagus she had found Fettuccine inside of. But no one needed to know that, and no one would find out about it until Olive Cookie and her friends visited the Parmesan desert in years yet to come…

Taglist: @janayuga @katsunemillennium @trustymikh @tartelongan @cedric-my-beloved @c00kietin

#cookie run kingdom #cookie run #crk #burnt cheese cookie #mozzarella cookie #golden cheese cookie #fettuccine cookie

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noblesandsstories · 4 months ago

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Pale Pastels: A Crypt to Creep In

Astarion x Original Fem!Tav

->Hijinks ensue, mentions of traps, violence against skeletons, Fleur stabs herself (she's doing her best guys), Astarion's only been here a few minutes and he's fed up, oh hey there's plot guys! (At least in spirit)

Border by: @adornedwithlight

AN: Calliope herself spoke through me, this had around 200 words when I started and this baby is at around 1,600. Hope y'all enjoy, starting to set up pieces of Fleur's stat block and a bit of her and Astarion's dynamic. Oh and I've never really wrote combat before, hope it wasn't too much of a pain to read. Bon appetite.

Update: Did a bit of polish so everything would flow better!

The temple was a great idea, decent loot, especially looting the bandits camp after Fleur sprinted up to them, frantically going on and on about mindflayers eating people. They didn’t stick around long after that, and it took the trio left hiding in the bushes a lot to not burst out into laughter at her performance of a scared woman who witnessed untold horrors.

Overall, a rather good experience.

The group had found a book that had some kind of magical seal on it. Gale was fascinated with it, trying to break the spell desperately. Shadowheart seemed amused while watching him. Astarion couldn’t care less.

We could be here a while, he thought. He slipped out of the room, hoping to find some kind of loot, or at least something to pick at while he was bored.

What he did find was a room full of tombs, that was practically covered in traps.

Must be something very worthwhile here, better get to work. The elf pulled out his tools and carefully stepped over to the closest sarcophagus and began picking at the lock. Just as he opened it, he turned his head to check over the room…

Just in time to see Fleur about to step on a pressure plate.

“DON’T.”

She froze, looking at him with wide eyes, foot suspended in the air.

“Can’t you see there’s traps everywhere?” He hissed.

To her credit, she did look like she was carefully observing when she double checked the room, but when she turned back to him, her face held a sheepish smile.

“No?” she said apologetically.

Astarion sighed. “Why are you even in here?”

“Same as you I recon. Watching Gale try to open a book that doesn’t want to be opened is extremely boring. Figured you’d at least be entertaining to stand next to.”

Astarion really didn’t want the company. But he knew he needed to start playing his cards carefully, lest he end up in dire straits. For now, playing nice with the candy-colored bard would probably be a benefit.

“Fine but take a step back and let me guide you over. There’s not many floor traps, but I can bet that they’re all synced up to one another.”

She dutifully obeyed, and he made his way over carefully.

“Ok, now watch my feet.” He over dramatized his steps, going slowly, and one by one, but in the interest of not learning what these traps do, he’d greatly look as foolish as he’d need to. Fleur diligently followed his movements, eyes analyzing every slight angle, until he was certain she was far enough from the main plates to do much harm.

“Now, sit tight and don’t do something stupid, darling,” he drawled in his usual flirty tone.

Fleur just gave a bright smile, “Only if you do the same.”

Astarion flashed her a smile before turning back to the sarcophagus, finally getting to poke his head in. A few pieces of gold. Better than nothing. He moved on to the next one, hearing light footsteps following him.

Time passed as they made their way through the room, coffin by coffin, even found a chest with some basic loot. Astarion dutifully working on the locks, Fleur quietly observing. Honestly, he found it rather nice.

Until Gale and Shadowheart walked in.

“We figured the book out!” Gale exclaimed. Astarion thought he looked like a dog trying to impress its master, poor bastard.

“Don’t walk in!” Fleur called out. “This place is trapped up.”

Shadowheart just cocked her head. “Yes, it’s obvious there would be some traps in here. Thanks for the warning.”

Fleur only looked a little bashful when she replied, “We’re almost done here. Go on and we’ll catch up!”

The two moved on and Astarion quickly picked the last lock. He fished out the last of the loot (a few pieces of gold and a healing potion) and stood.

“Now to get you and I out of this room safely, my dear,” he crooned.

“Do you mind if I do something first? Promise won’t be too bad,” she asked.

“Of course, as long as you don’t stab me,” he gave a careless laugh.

She stepped up and straightened his collar, fidgeting with it for a second, before giving a nod.

“That should work for now. At least you can pretend like it’s a weirdly placed mole.”

If Astarion’s heart could stop, it would have then.

She knew she knew she knew she-

“We do need to find a higher collar if we don’t want someone stabbing before asking,” she looked up to him with a beaming smile. “Now let’s get going. Don’t want them thinking we’re going to elope. You might have to show the way out though. I still don’t see those traps.”

She didn’t care. Or she was behaving like she didn’t care.

And it quickly left his line of concerns when he noticed Fleur almost step on a trap, again.

“WAIT-”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The group came across a giant room with a giant statue, Shadowheart explained it being a scribe god of some kind, Astarion really couldn’t care less. He was busy following Fleur’s eyes.

Eyes that couldn’t see a pressure plate that was quite literally under her nose but could catch bite marks on his neck. Eyes that shone a rather beautiful shade of blue. Actually, now that he looked at it, something was off about her eyes.

“Hey, what do you think this button does?” Fleur asked, turning to Astarion.

“Opening the door next to it, I assume,” he responded.

“Then why the button,” she mused. “Why not just have the door, like everywhere else.” She paused for a moment, then turned back to the other two, “Move closer for a bit. I’m going to push this, and I’d rather have heads where I can see them.”

Astarion snickered, “Sounds like you’re talking to children.”

Fleur sent him a weak smile, “Brace yourselves.”

She pushed the button, and as predicted, the door opened.

“Oh shit,” Fleur whispered.

What wasn’t expected was the skeletons strewn about the room to getting up, grabbing their weapons beside them.

Astarion didn’t hesitate, shooting forward. He knocked an arrow and shot one on the ledge above them dead on, just before a slew of spells slung their way, a firebolt hitting Shadowheart and a ray of frost nicking him.

“Even alive, you must have smelled like something rotten.” Fleur’s vicious mockery hit the same skeleton he did, resulting in it falling to pieces.

Another skeleton ran forwards, getting a good hit on Shadowheart. She hit it back, adding an extra shove with the shield as Gale cast firebolt, sending flames to one of the skeletons further back in the room. The skeleton furthest back began casting before everything went quiet. Making Astarion realize he was standing between 3 casters.

He ran around the group, aiming at the one holding up the spell, and launched an arrow. The fucker didn’t fall, and the spell stayed strong. Shit.

Another lobby of spells came their way from the other two skeletons, hitting Gale and Fleur this time.

Fleur ran up next to the skeleton in front of them and raising up a dagger…

Bringing it down with the worst form he’d ever seen, not just missing the skeleton by a wide berth, but cutting herself in the process.

Astarion felt like he was going to go into shock.

Shadowheart rolled her eyes, swinging the mace again, successfully hitting it.

Someone had to, he bitterly thought as he sprinted out of the radius of the spell, releasing another arrow, hitting the skeleton that was holding up the spell. This time the creature fell, and he wasted no time turning around to look at Fleur with a sneer.

“Ready to be useful again?”

If looks could kill, Astarion would be dead again from the glare Fleur sent him, but she said nothing, instead braced herself for the ice spell sent her way. Another spell was slung to him, but he managed to easily dodge it. Shadowheart sent some kind of holy spell to one of the skeletons, downing it instantly. Gale casted another firebolt to the other one, which Astarion finished off with an arrow.

There was a beat of silence, as if they were all waiting for something else to pop up.

Astarion turned over to Fleur. “What’s the point in having a dagger if you don’t know how to use it?”

“Listen, Mr. Snark, not everyone is built for combat,” she huffed, moving to put her blade away. “Just be glad it wasn’t worse.”

Astarion had never really noticed the pouch at her hip. It folded open revealing a set of beautiful looking daggers. Most of them looked like smaller throwing daggers, and they were well maintained. At the top was what looked to be a space where two larger, more close combat designed daggers, would sit.

Curiously, there was only one there.

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