#I DREW CLAUDIA AGAIN

[ihaveanaversiontodecisions]

loustat and Claudia before the consequences ™️ as that one meme...

I'm sure someone has done this but I couldn't get it out of my head

[swedenis-h]

Day 5 Prompt: Favorite Quote

blue + red = purple!

(Redraw of this!)

( @claudiadelionlac )

[pitchsidestories]

when grumpy met sunshine II Kika Nazareth x Reader

masterlist I word count: 2382

It was the first day of training after the summer vacation marking the start of pre-season. With the new players coming in on the one hand and on the other hand the familiar faces it almost felt like the beginning of a school year. Everyone was buzzing.  

One of the fresh signings approached you quickly once she recognized you, her face lit up with joy and excitement.

“Hi y/n, I love your playing style and can’t wait to play with you!”, Kika Nazareth greeted you. God how you hated that footballer and her stupid smile. Also how dare she is saying that after what happened a year ago.

“Uhu, sure. It seems like you forgot what you did during the Champions League group stage games.”, you answered coldly.

“Huh, what do you mean?”, the Portuguese woman frowned confused.

“Forget it.”, you waved it off and rushed off leaving a very bewildered Kika behind.

“Don’t take it personally she never forgets anything really. Come on you need to meet the rest of your new teammates.”, Mapi padded empathetically the shoulder of the young forward.

“But I don’t get it, Mapi. What did I ever do to her?”, the brunette asked the defender, while her brown eyes followed you across the room. S

he was genuinely excited to play with you, if you hadn’t stopped her so abruptly the Portuguese might have said even more. How Kika loved the way you looked and.. she should stop thinking any further you clearly were mad at her, but why?

“I don’t know.”, the older Spanish woman shrugged equally as clueless.

“Weird.”, the forward mumbled.

“Let’s go the others are so thrilled to see you.”, Mapi tried to cheer her up.

“Hey, everyone.”, Kika begun anew, beaming at the teammates. Hoping, no praying, she wouldn’t cause a reaction like yours earlier. The dark haired forward didn’t want to ruin the first day at the new club anymore.

“Hi, welcome to the club.”, Claudia replied grinning.

“And thanks to special agent Aitana for this transfer who sadly can’t be here right now.”, Mapi continued, trying to soothe the fresh signing. It worked Kika did feel more relaxed in front of them.

“Guys calm down she still hasn’t proven herself in the team.”, you commented rolling your eyes, suddenly appearing next to Ingrid.

“I’m aware of how good this team is. But I’m sure I can help.”, the Portuguese swallowed hard, trying to sound as optimistic as possible.

“We’ll see about that.”, you shot back.

“Don’t worry you’ll.”, she promised. The football player was waiting for a response but once more you vanished without a trace. What a strange behaviour Kika thought to herself.

Thankfully Ellie delivered a much-needed distraction.

 “Kika? Ewa and I wanted to ask you if you’d join us for a coffee sometime soon? As we’re all new to the city.”  

“Yes, sure, I’d love that.”, she nodded happily.

Ellie beamed: “Wonderful.“

“Can’t wait.“, Kika smiled back at the young goalie.

Once again, you rolled your eyes and turned away from them to focus on your warm up.

You were one of the last to leave the pitch two hours later, thinking that you would have the dressing room for yourself. You did not expect Ingrid and Mapi waiting for you there.

“So?“, Ingrid said with her arms crossed in front of her chest.

You didn’t want to talk about your new team member so you decided to play along: “So what?“

With a half smile she finally formulated a question: “Why are you pouting?“

“I’m not pouting. Just annoyed by that smiley…“, you stopped yourself. You couldn’t come up with the right word for her anyway.

Mapi shook her head: “You’re not annoyed.“

At this point, you were starting to get annoyed with these two as well.

“Yes, I am. We didn’t need her in our team.“

“That’s not our decision though.“, Mapi shrugged.

You were about to say something but Ingrid was faster: “Y/n?“

You turned to her: “Yes?“

“Tell us why you’re mad at her.“

You heaved a frustrated sigh. They were worse than your parents.

“Remember when we drew against Benfica in Lisbon?“

Both of them nodded. Of course they would remember last years UWCL games. “Yeah?“

“What happened there? Why can’t you move on from it?“, Mapi asked.

Her girlfriend added: “Come on. It can’t be that bad. You can tell us.“

They looked at you with those soft eyes, all parent-like. Almost like your team psychologist.

The sudden urge to tell them disappeared completely so you just shrugged and grabbed your bag: “Whatever.“

You could feel their eyes on you as you left the dressing room, still in your workout clothes.

Ingrid looked at her incredulously: “Well, that was strange, Mapi.“

“Very.“, she agreed slowly.

As you went back to your own place, Kika and the other new players sipped on their coffees at a tiny little coffee shop.

“No, I’ll win her over with my charm, Ellie.“, Kika announced confidently. Even they had noticed the awkward tension between the two of you.

The English goalkeeper nodded slowly: “Sure you will, Kika.“

“Anyone wants some cake with their coffee?“, Ewa changed the topic. She had been eyeing the tasty looking sweet treats on display right from the start.

The Portuguese striker nodded: “Of course.“

“Can’t say no, they look delicious.“, Ellie laughed.

“We have to celebrate. It’s our first coffee date in our new home.“, Kika laughed.

Ewa stood up and agreed: “We do.“

She quickly returned with three different slices of cake so all of them could try.

“Knowing we play for such a prestigious club now feels great, right?“, she said as she sat the plates down on the table.

“This feels like a dream come true.”, the goalkeeper agreed with a dreamy look in her blue eyes.

It has always been something the blonde fantasized about since she was a little girl, playing for that club and now the fantasy turned into reality which she was forever grateful for.

When Ellie continued, she sounded serious. “Especially after the last year that I had.” The other two women knew about the stroke the English player had suffered.

That was why Kika pulled her into a soft hug whispering into the ear. You deserve to be here so much, Ellie.”

“Thanks. I’m happy that I got to start with you two.”, the goalkeeper smiled at her new teammates.

“Same. I’ve a feeling this will be a fantastic first season for us.”, Ewa replied enthusiastically.

“And we got each other if it’s getting hard.”, the Portuguese striker added.

“Yes, plus I’m sure even grumpy will like you eventually, Kika.”, Ellie remarked.

Immediately the smile vanished from the brunette’s face. “Not so sure about this. Apparently, I must have done something to her during our UWCL match last season.”

“But you don’t remember?”, Ewa questioned curiously. Quickly Kika shook her head.

“No.”

Although she tried her hardest to think what the striker could have done which made you hate her so much. Usually everyone warmed up under Kikas positive radiance, but you were her first exception, following her into her dreams.

In training Kika and you were much to your dismay supposed to be partners.

“Kika, I think Ill swap with Esmee.”, you declared.

“You can’t swap training partners.”, Mapi interjected in a tone which didn’t allow any dissent.

“Fine.”, you groaned. Even though you had played a few years in the first squad of Barca now aged 21 the defender was still like the big sister you never had, and you didn’t want to disappoint her. Even if it meant you needed to work with the person you disliked.

“Looks like you’re stuck with me.”, Kika observed, wearing a huge smile on her lips.

“Yes, with the one who showed me the middle finger last year.”, you muttered under her breath. Unfortunately, it was still loud enough for the striker to understand the words you were saying.

“I never did that!”, she objected loudly.

“Yes, you did.”, you responded.

“No way, I’d never do that.”, Kika insisted.

“And when you said something about the way I played.”, your voice trembled.

“That’s not true.”, the striker denied strongly.

“What’s true?”, you wanted to know.

“Nothing of what you think happened is true!”, she stated passionately.

Hearing her statement made your heart pound hard against your chest. “Are you saying that this is all a huge misunderstanding?”

Obviously!“, Kika said with emphasis and the slightest undertone of anger.

“Oh.“

You didn’t know what else to say. Was she telling the truth? Did it really only look like it at the pitch? Was it a gesture to you or her own teammate?

All the Champions League games seemed to blur together in front of your inner eye. Now you weren’t sure anymore.

“Wait… so you don’t hate me because I’m here and could potentially take your place in the starting squad?“, Kika asked.

You frowned at her: “No, we play two different positions. So why should I be afraid of that?“

“Because I know that you like to push forward too.“, she explained.

You stalled once again. You found it impressive that she had already analyzed your playing style.

You shook your head: “Yes. But I don’t hate your for that. I’m used to tough competition, Barca is my childhood club.“

“Okay… wow.“

“What?“

Kika started laughing: “I really thought you hated me because you had a good reason.“

At first you just glared at her for making fun of you but her laugh was incredibly infectious and you suddenly found yourself laughing with her.

“Stop laughing. This is a good reason!“, you told her as you playfully hit her arm.

“That’s not a good reason.“

“Come on. Focus on your exercise.“, you reminded her, still smiling.

Kika raised her hands defensively and grinned: “Okay, okay. Can’t make you mad at me again.“

“No. Also I have to maintain my grumpy status.“, you replied and tried your best to keep your face serious again.

Kika giggled: “Sorry, of course.“

“Good.“

“Don’t worry. I think I can handle your grumpiness.“

You squinted at her: “Might need some sunglasses to deal with your sunshiny attitude.“

“I know you love it.“, she winked at you. She really dared to wink at you!

You shook your head: “No, you’re still the most annoying person around here.“

“You don’t mean that.“

She was right. You didn’t.

Still, you continued to tease: “Are you sure?“

She flashed you a confident smile: “Yes.“

“Dream on.“

Kika shrugged casually and focused back on your partner exercise: “If you say so, y/n.“

After your talk, you didn’t feel that intense anger towards Kika anymore. Everything was a bit lighter once the misunderstanding was cleared up. It went even so far that you didn’t react with pure disgust when she asked you to room together at your first pre-season match against Hoffenheim.

“Can’t believe we’ve to share a room, Kika.“, you joked as you sat on one of the beds.

Kika threw herself onto the other one: “Quit complaining, you grump.“

You shrugged with amusement: “At least it’s just for one night.“

The Portuguese striker smiled: “You will survive. I’m a quiet sleeper.“

After you both changed into your pyjamas and brushed your teeth you happily let your head fall on to the soft pillow.

“Good night, Kika.”, you mumbled.

“Night y/n.”, the striker hummed.

Yet something was off, the heat in that southern part of Germany still hung in the room, plus Kika hasn’t stopped moving in her bed. 

“Can’t you sleep?”, you asked her with a heavy sigh.

“No, what about you?”, she returned the question, directing her gaze straight at you.

“Me neither.”, you admitted. There was some restlessness and tension between the two of you, it was almost unbearable.

“Do you want to talk?”, Kika offered kindly.

“Sure.”, you agreed softly.

“So, what keeps you up?”, the Portuguese wanted to know.

Even though the moonlight enhanced her features and made you think thoughts again you tried to avoid you started with a less heavy confession.

“The adrenaline of the win. I think I’ll never get tired of that feeling, what about you?”

You waited for her response, did you imagine it or did her cheeks turn red, it was hard to tell in the dark.

“Oh, yeah, I get that. I love it too. But there’s something else that keeps me awake.”, the brunette replied nervously.

“There’s? Are you missing Portugal?”, you listened up.

“A bit yes, but that’s not it. This might be a bad start for the new season, but there’s someone in this team that I think I’ve a crush on.”, Kika confessed.

“You do?”, you answered stunned.

“Yeah.”

For a moment you paused before the realization hit you hard.

“Wait, it’s me, right?”

“It’s yes.”, she confirmed quietly.

“That’s too bad because I.”, you begun.

“Oh, you don’t have to say anything, I get that. I didn’t want to ruin anything.”, the striker interrupted you quickly.

“No stop talking for a moment.”, you begged her, placing a finger of yours onto her lips. God, that woman really loved to talk, even though now the time clearly was for listening as you tried to demonstrate to her.

“I fell too.”, you added in a whisper.

“You did? Am I not way too annoying for you.”, Kika frowned.

“Yes, you’re and yet I’d like to kiss your mouth who loves to annoy me with it’s yapping.”, you grinned.

“You should give it a try maybe.”, she smirked.

“Maybe you can sleep better afterwards.”, you suggested playfully.

“Maybe we both can.”, your teammate wiggled her eyebrows.

“I’m sure of it.” First the kiss was cautiously before it was getting more intensely until you heard the door open loudly.

“Oh my god!”, Mapi yelled.

“Mapi, get out!”, you shrieked.

“I didn’t see anything. Promise!”, the defender gesticulated wildly. With that said she was gone as quick as the older woman came.

“This news will run like a wildfire, right?”, Kika chuckled.

“Yes, by tomorrow morning everyone knows.”, you groaned as she pulled you into a hug.

“I don’t mind that. They can know that grumpy and sunshine always belong together.”, she announced solemnly placing a soft kiss to your forehead.

[nocontextlestat]

(TW for everything)

*in lestat’s voice*

so, let’s talk about our gorgeous murder gremlin armand. in the books, he canonically:

- burned his own paris coven alive after lestat destroyed their centuries old belief (TVL)

- let louis kiII his second paris coven (IWTV)

- tortured nicki with his coven while he was still human, because he was angry at lestat (TVL part 4, ch 2)

- tortured lestat to force him to say claudia’s name as the guilty vampire (TVL, epilogue, ch 1)

- mentally manipulated and vampirically raped lestat (TVL, part 5, ch 1)

- threw lestat off a tower when he came to him to beg for help (TVL, epilogue, ch 1)

- told louis that lestat was dead and didn’t tell the truth for decades (IWTV, part 4)

- told lestat that louis was dead and didn’t tell him the truth for decades again (IWTV-TVL)

- mentally manipulated louis to make him turn madeleine into a vampire (IWTV, part 3)

- telepathically kept telling claudia to die/kill herself/leave louis to himself (IWTV, part 3)

- tortured daniel for days (QOTD, part 1, ch 4)

- drew daniel to absolute insanity for a decade (QOTD, part 1, ch 4)

- locked nicki up and cut off his hands so that he couldn’t play his violin like crazy anymore (TVL, part 6, ch 3)

- scalped his human victim because he was curious (TVA, part 1)

and so on. and you’re mad that they— *checks notes* ruined his character on the show by making him the villain? am i correct? he is literally one of the most iconic villains in literature. also, shouldn’t we be glad that they didn’t show him actually torturing claudia by cutting her head off and stitching it on a woman’s body before the trial? while she was still alive? (TVA part 2)

why do you need him to be a saint to be able to love him? he should be a lovable character to the viewers despite and because of the stuff he has done, no? are you sure you're built to consume gothic fiction?

"what about the things lestat did?" i literally made a list of lestat's crimes and never shut up about it and you're yet again proving my point. this is not an attack on armand. he's my favorite right after lestat. i wrote fact threads on twitter for both of them. i know my material.

[mapiforpresident]

Game Night

patri x reader x pina

Your shared apartment was unusually lively tonight. The living room, usually a calm space where you and your girlfriends could cuddle after long training sessions, had been transformed into game night central. The coffee table was cleared of its usual magazines and candles, replaced with board games, card decks, and snacks. Patri, had insisted on organizing the evening.

You were currently arranging the last of the snacks when you felt a pair of hands slide around your waist. “You’ve been working too hard, amor,” Patri murmured, her warm breath brushing against your ear. “Come sit. Everything is ready.”

You turned your head slightly, catching the soft smile on her face and couldn't help but lean in to kiss her. “Just finishing up. Someone has to keep this night running smoothly.”

As if on cue, the doorbell rang. You glanced toward the door, but Claudia was already sprinting past you. “I got it!”

A flurry of greetings filled the room as Ona and Lucy walked in, followed closely by Mapi and Ingrid, and then the youngsters. Aitana and Alexia trailed in last and you thought you saw a hickey peaking out from Aitana's shirt and Alexia seemed happier than usual but you weren't going to question it.

“Are we ready to crush each other?” Mapi announced, setting a bottle of wine onto the table with a smirk.

“Relax, Mapi,” Ingrid said, rolling her eyes fondly. “It’s just game night.”

“There’s no such thing as ‘just game night,’” Patri muttered under her breath, earning a laugh from you.

~~~

You had barely explained the rules of Pictionary before things descended into chaos. Teams were chosen—Patri, Lucy, and Ona against you, Claudia, and Mapi. Ingrid had volunteered as the judge, sitting back with a wine glass in hand, clearly enjoying the show. The rest of the girls lounged around ready to watch the game

“Alright, first word!” Ingrid said, flipping the timer over.

Patri grabbed the marker and began sketching furiously on the whiteboard. Lucy and Ona leaned in, shouting guesses almost immediately.

“Boat! Sailboat! Canoe!”

“No, no, no!” Patri huffed, erasing part of her drawing and adding something new.

“Paddleboard?” Ona guessed, tilting her head.

“Time’s up!” Ingrid declared, stifling a laugh as Patri groaned.

“It was a submarine! How did you not see it?” Patri gestured dramatically to her admittedly questionable drawing.

Lucy squinted at the board. “That’s a banana with windows.”

The room erupted in laughter, and you found yourself leaning into Claudia’s side as she grinned. “Patri’s competitive streak is showing,” she whispered, her tone teasing.

Your turn came next, and you took the marker with an air of confidence. The word was “elephant,” and you began sketching quickly.

“Tree? No, wait, a flower?!” Mapi shouted before you had even drew a full line.

“It’s obviously a horse,” Claudia added.

“Are you two serious?” you groaned, adding the trunk to your drawing.

“An anteater!”

“A giraffe?”

“Time’s up!” Ingrid announced again, and you turned to your teammates in mock disbelief.

“It was an elephant!” you exclaimed.

Mapi threw her hands up. “Well, your drawing could’ve fooled me.”

Claudia nudged you playfully. “Maybe we’re just bad guessers, amor.”

~~~

Pictionary was abandoned after Mapi and Lucy started bickering over the rules, and someone suggested Uno as a less contentious alternative. It was, in hindsight, a terrible idea.

“Draw 2!” Claudia said gleefully, slapping down her card.

“Why me?” Mapi groaned as she picked the cards up.

“Because you deserve it,” Claudia teased, sticking her tongue out.

You laughed at the playful banter, but your attention was drawn to Patri, who had been suspiciously quiet. She glanced at her hand, then at the stack, her lips curling into a mischievous smile.

“I’m sorry, mi amor,” she said sweetly, before slamming a wild +4 card onto the pile.

Your jaw dropped. “Patri!”

“What? It’s part of the game,” she said innocently, though the gleam in her eye betrayed her.

“I thought you loved me!” you exclaimed dramatically, drawing your cards as the rest of the team burst into laughter.

Ona, meanwhile, had been plotting her own move as she skipped Lucy's turn.

The room erupted in chaos, with Mapi accusing Ona of stacking the deck after she used 4 skips in a row and Lucy attempting to challenge the legality of her skips. Amid the noise, you leaned back into your chair, Patri’s arm slipping around your shoulder.

“Chaos,” you murmured, though you couldn’t help but smile.

“Fun chaos,” Patri corrected, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

~~~

By the end of the night, the team had mellowed out, the earlier drama replaced by laughter and a few too many bottles of wine. Patri had pulled you onto the couch, her arms wrapped securely around you, while Claudia leaned against your other side.

“This was a good idea,” you said softly, glancing at the remnants of the evening scattered across the room.

Patri hummed in agreement. “Even if Mapi and Lucy nearly killed each other?”

“Especially because of that,” Claudia said, grinning. “What’s game night without a little drama?”

You laughed, feeling a wave of contentment wash over you. These moments, surrounded by your team and snuggled up with your girlfriends, were what made all the hard work worth it.

“Same time next month?” Ona called from across the room.

[somevagrantchild]

Missing Loustat scene discovered in Anne Rice's diaries

I HAVE SOMETHING AMAZING TO SHARE WITH YOU!!

As I was reading Anne Rice's diaries in the special collection library at Tulane University while I was in New Orleans for the Vampire Ball, I discovered this intensely sexy scene she wrote between Louis and Lestat that never made it into her books. This is Anne Rice's original writing, never before shared anywhere online.

Anne Rice wrote this scene by hand in her diary dated November 6, 2015 (which she mentions is the day before Stan's birthday. He would have been 73😭). I have deduced that it is her very first (and very rough) draft of the scene that eventually became chapter 4 in Prince Lestat and the Realms of Atlantis, aka the scene where Louis agrees to move into the chateau and be Lestat's partner/companion again. The final version of the scene in the book reads like wedding vows, serving as the beginning of their marriage in the modern era. As you'll see, the first draft was rather different. 

In Prince Lestat, Louis and Lestat's interactions are extremely brief, and they aren't able to talk beyond one stolen moment to reassure each other of their love. It would seem that in the six months between the end of Prince Lestat (when Louis thinks to himself that he will be with Lestat very soon), and the beginning of Atlantis (when that finally ends up happening), Louis and Lestat do not have any intimate conversation. They may have talked somewhat, but only briefly about superficial matters, or they may have not even spoken to each other once over those six months until Lestat asks Louis to meet him in New Orleans for chapter 4.

In an earlier diary entry, I found a note where Anne said she wanted their first reunion conversation to begin by finally addressing Louis dumping Lestat's body in the swamp after Claudia tried to kill him—something they have never once discussed. So when I came across this scene in a later diary, I could tell it was a direct follow-through on that idea. 

The scene begins with Lestat speaking to Louis, and it seems they are outside on the streets of New Orleans, but someplace private where they aren't being observed by mortals. This is different from the final book version with them sitting at a sticky table at the Café Du Monde (though it is similar to how Lestat tells us they walked around the city streets together for hours after the reunion scene was over). 

Anne headed this part of the diary entry with: Early on: L+L quarrel—

“I can forgive her for what she did. She was never a human being. She went from being an infant to a monster. But you—you stood there and watched. You carried my body into the swamps and dumped me there as if I were trash—you were the one I hated! How could you do that to me? Decades we’d been together!”

He stared at me for the longest time—not defensive, not angry.

“I could do it because I was afraid,” he said. “I didn’t know how I was going to live without you.”

“I don’t believe you. You were fine without me. You were preparing to sail to Europe. You were making plans.”

A torrent of words.

“Stop!” he said. “I’m here now. I love you! I thought you wanted me here! I thought you’d forgiven me. I thought we had a second chance, now, you and I. And miles to travel together!”

I nodded.

“A second chance!”

I nodded.

Then I took hold of him as if I was going to kill him. I threw him up against the wall and bit into his neck for the first time in two hundred years—the first time since the first time—and when the blood gushed into my mouth, I saw again—for the first time in two hundred years—his soul, his heart.

I was lost in his mind, his thoughts, his dreams, flashes…

I drew back—I’d drunk too much. He was being held there by me, his head bowed. I slapped him hard and when he opened his eyes, I pushed his open mouth against my neck. I forced his fangs into me.

And we were together, wrapped in one another’s arms…

Finally I pushed him back.

He was sitting on the paving stones, hair in his face, back to the wall. I took his hand and helped him up.

“Kiss me,” I said. “No, really kiss me.”

Finally I let him go.

“I can’t live without you! “ he said. “I swear, you wander off on me again, I…”

“I won’t. I won’t ever.”

We walked along in silence.

“He loves you too,” he said.

“Who?”

“The silent one, the one who’s never spoken to me, the one inside you.”

It was time. I could have lingered a half hour more in the old times, but the time was now.

The End 

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

Above is the clean version, which I have corrected for missing punctuation, missing letters/words, and necessary dialogue tags.

Below is the original rough version as I have transcribed exactly from Anne Rice's handwritten diary.

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

“I can forgive her for what she did. She was never a human being. She went from being an infant to a monster. But you—you stood there & watched. You carried my body in the swamps & dumped me there as if I were trash—you were the one I hated! How could you do that to me? Decades we’d been together!

He stared at me for the longest time—not defensive, not angry.

I could do it because I was afraid, he said. “I didn’t know how I was going to live without you.”

“I don’t believe. You were fine without me. You were preparing to sail to Europe. You were making plans.”

—A torrent of words.

“Stop! I’m here now. I love you! I thought you ’d wanted me here! I thought you’d forgive me. I thought we had a second chance, now, you & I. And miles to travel together!”

I nodded—

“A second chance!”

I nodded—

Then I took hold of him as if I was going to kill him. I threw him up against the wall & bit into his neck for the first time in 200 years—the first time since the first time—and when the blood gushed into my mouth I saw again—for the first time in 200 years—his soul, his heart—

I was lost in his mind, his thoughts, his dreams, flashes — (more)

I drew back—I’d drunk too much He was being held there by me, his head bowed. I slapped him hard & when he opened his eyes I pushed his open mouth against my neck. I forced his fangs into me.

And we were together, wrapped in one another arms — (more)

Finally I pushed him back.

He was sitting on the paving stones, hair in his face, back to the wall. I took his hand & helped him up.

Kiss me. No really kiss me.

Finally I let him go.

I can’t live without you! I swear, you wander off on me again, I … I ”

“I won’t. I won’t ever.”

We walked along in silence —

He loves you too

Who

The silent one, the one who’s never spoken to me, the one inside you.

It was time. I could have linger a half hour more in the old times, but was now —

The End 

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

The spots where she wrote (more) are clearly areas where she intended to expound upon all Lestat was seeing and feeling in Louis's mind, soul, and blood, and then what he felt and saw as Louis was drinking from him. How I wish we could know what she would have written there! Also the lines that start or end with a — make me wonder if she intended to add more to those bits as well. Would she have actually written out Lestat's torrent of words?

Lestat's line "Kiss me. No really kiss me." isn't in quotation marks in Anne's diary. I chose to add them, because there were many other obviously spoken-aloud dialogue lines also without quotes. But it is possible that Lestat only thinks these words as he and Louis are kissing each other. It reminds me of in Queen of the Damned, when Daniel thinks, "I like kissing. And suggling with dead things, yes, hold me." The narration doesn't tell us Armand actually starts holding him, but Anne's style of using internal monologue makes it clear that's what happens in the action. So the "Kiss me." could be similar in this instance as well. And in that case it might mean Louis is the one who initiates the kiss, and this is Lestat’s internal “yes, yes!!” reaction to it. But I do suspect he is actually meant to be saying it aloud.

With the em dash at the end of it, the very last line could have been meant to continue: "but was now ______" was now...something. But considering she wrote "The End" after it, it seems like it was meant to be a final statement, so that is why I added the missing words I chose in my edited clean version.

Although this conversation is very different from the one we get in the final version of Atlantis,��I do still see elements of it in the book's scene:

Louis's line "I can’t live without you! I swear, you wander off on me again, I …" became "so I'll come. And when you tire of me and want me gone, I'll hate you of course."

They still kiss, really kiss. In the book, it is moved to before their conversation, when Lestat first sees Louis in their Rue Royal flat, wearing the new clothes he ordered for him and Louis says, "This is what you wanted, isn't it?" and Lestat is so shocked, he's unable to respond.

They do still discuss Amel in the book version, in much more depth than he is mentioned here. Louis having never heard Amel's voice in his own head remains consistent. 

They do still go walking around the streets of the Garden District, though it happens after the conversation, not during it. Lestat does say they talked for hours during that walk, but about Amel and what's been happening to Lestat as Prince. Not about themselves or their past. 

MY THOUGHTS!

The confirmation here that Lestat never tasted Louis's blood before their new marriage begins in Atlantis is one of the most amazing parts to me, when combined with the offhand way that Lestat mentions what Louis's vampire blood tastes like in Blood Communion. Even though the final version of Atlantis never shows us Lestat drinking Louis's blood (either forcefully like this scene, or consensually in other ways), the mention in Blood Communion does confirm that it DOES happen off the page at some point during the years between Atlantis chapter 4 and the beginning of Blood Communion. 

We know that Louis drank much of Lestat's blood at the end of Merrick, and this was his first time doing it because we were told in previous books how much he resisted his powers being increased by drinking ANY other vampire's blood. It is nice to have it confirmed that Lestat never bit Louis or drank any of his blood in return either before or after Merrick. But now, after Lestat becomes Prince, this is now a new element to their relationship. It makes me consider more strongly that Anne perhaps meant to imply that they then for the first time began to engage in blood sharing the same romantic way Lestat did with Akasha in Queen of the Damned, and then in the even more explicit way she shows us with Rhoshamandes and Benedict in Prince Lestat. 

I don't take all Anne wrote in her diaries as canon. It is clear that much of what she wrote there were spitball ideas that she later chose to absolutely reject (as opposed to deciding they were true but she just didn't mention them in the books). But I do not see anything in this scene that the final versions of the books contradict. So even though this scene didn't actually happen in canon, we can believe that the feelings and emotions that drive this scene are still canon. And I love that for us 🥰

I have cross-posted this on ao3 to give us a good place to talk back and forth to each other about it in the comments section there. Reblog and reply to this post as much as you like, but if you want to have some conversations and share your own thoughts on what she wrote, ao3 will give us a much more organized place to do it, where other people will be able to easily find and read your meta as well.

[jaegeraether]

Sunsets and footballers (Part 22)

Alexia Putellas x Character (1)

Masterlist (other parts here)

Alexia was zoned out, as she often had been for the past five months, her mind not able to let go of her. That woman. She’d seen her every time she went back to that anomalous bar. The bar that the players went to, to avoid paparazzi and attention. It was a bit of everything, stripping, performing, gambling, partying, and for their special customers, private rooms available for guests who paid for a little more from their strippers or performers. That was at the agreement of said individual, and at the discretion of the owner, of course. Regardless of that, it was still always loud and bustling with a crowd who all shared the same love of life.

Of course, that’s where she met her. The most incredible woman she’d ever seen in her life. She was the reason Alexia kept coming back. She didn’t know what had gotten into her, but there was something about her that drew her in.

It was obvious she was a player, but it was something beyond that. She was so intelligent, so genuine that it seemed wrong to think of her as such. They bumped into each other a few times, the flirty, soft smile on her face as she murmured her Spanish apology to Alexia was dizzying. She must have known what she was doing when she smiled at people like that, and whenever she spoke. Her Spanish had just the slightest accent, otherwise it was perfect.

Unfortunately, every time they’d bumped into each other, she was already with someone for the night, or was being coerced on stage. Because if all of that wasn’t enough, she sung as well. Played guitar. Piano. Drums. She was always forced or cheered onto the stage by hundreds of people; the obvious crowd favourite. Going with the flow, she drank and flirted and entertained, the crowd mostly in awe. The way her body moved was like sex, and she’d even been involved on stage in their strip shows. Everyone wanted her, men and women, but even more… everyone wanted to be her.

She shared her attention around, talking, flirting, bantering with people she knew and people she didn’t. Every night she was there, Alexia hoped they’d get an opportunity to speak, but she never came over. Never chose Alexia. And for the first time in her life, Alexia, la Reina, Captain of both Barcelona and Spain, was unable to build the courage to introduce herself. And so she kept going back anyways, trying to convince herself that it wasn’t because of her.

“Ale,” Claudia whined in Spanish. “He keeps staring. We should go.”

Claudia was one of the victims Alexia had dragged along for the night. The other was Mariona who had left to get drinks.

Alexia saw the woman who intrigued her so, across the bar, leaning back against the wall with a drink in her hand. She was wearing what was essentially a black suit, minus the shirt. Instead, her abs were visible, her suit jacket open and revealing her black bra. As if she could feel her staring, she looked over and caught Alexia’s eye as she was mid-conversation, still talking. Her eyes roamed down and back up, dark and acknowledging all of Alexia. One eyebrow lifted and she smiled, keeping that intense eye contact. Alexia couldn’t look away; it was like she was locked in place. Her body didn’t want to be anywhere except under her gaze.

“La Reina, come on.” The man said in Spanish, walking to stand in front of Alexia and break her eye contact. “One drink.”

Alexia was annoyed that he’d interrupted and was back. Again. She shook her head. “I don’t think you need a drink.”

“I’m sober. Only had a few.” He didn’t appear to be lying, though he had misjudged what she’d said. She knew he wasn’t drunk, and instead, she was insinuating that he shouldn’t drink as he may become even more persistent with women around the club, as he had been for most of the night. Once he’d spotted Alexia though, he seemed to be on a mission.

Claudia tugged at her, gesturing to the door and Mariona returned with three drinks.

“Oh, so she can buy you a drink because she’s a girl and you’re a lesbian?” Before Alexia had a chance to say anything, he took two of the drinks Mariona had and downed them. He pointed to the last glass. “Last one is your drink with me, la Reina. Come on, lighten up. Have a little fun.”

She shook her head again. “This is not happening. Claudia, get security.”

He reached out and tore the bracelet from Alexia’s wrist. The bracelet her father had given her.

“No!” She cried, thinking only of her dad as she leapt to grab it from him. He put it behind his back. “Uh, uh. No, la Reina. You can have this back when you have a drink with me.”

He was a large man, and Alexia knew she’d never have a chance against him, but she tried regardless. He pushed her back with ease, gesturing to the cup, his tongue running over his lips. Claudia was tiny, she was not going to be a help, and Mariona was…well…too timid. Alexia was the leader here, and she knew she had to sacrifice a little dignity for her bracelet.

Alexia reached out for the last glass of alcohol Mariona had, and was stopped in her tracks by a hand catching hers. She sucked in a breath and looked up into those dark eyes from across the bar. They were even deeper up close with flecks of gold in them.

“Don’t.” She said simply in her perfect Spanish. She withdrew her hand and took the glass, downing it so Alexia couldn’t. She put the glass on the bar behind them and slipped cash into Mariona’s pocket. “More of a whisky girl, myself, but thank you.”

She turned to the man who was looking annoyed. “You can’t-”

“I’ve seen you harassing women all night. The only reason you’re still here is because you’re friends with Javier. The thing is, I’m better friends with him.” She stepped towards to the man, showing just how unafraid she was. “I’m assuming you’re not going to give the bracelet back?”

He grunted and looked at Alexia. “Not until she-”

“Look. At. Me.” She snapped so hard that his head whipped to her. “You’re dealing with me now. You want to be a big man? Tell me what it will take for you to give it to me.”

He seemed to be so embarrassed that her words had obviously scared him, that he puffed out his chest and stood tall. “Fucking fight me for it.”

Without hesitating, she agreed. She turned to look at someone behind the bar and smiled. “Room 3 still available?” He threw her the keys and she caught them without looking, her eyes trained on the much larger man in front of her. “Come.”

As they began to move, Alexia’s hand flew out and grabbed her bicep. She tried to talk, but nothing would come out other than, “No..”

The woman smiled softly. “I’ll be back in five minutes, la Reina.”

Alexia’s lips parted slightly in surprise. She knew who she was? All this time?

The women gently removed Alexia’s hand and placed it back by her side, those dark eyes full of intent. Then, she disappeared.

“What the fuck is happening?” Mariona asked.

“Should we go?” Claudia suggested.

“My dad gave me that bracelet..” Alexia whispered huskily as she held back her emotions. The man was twice her size. He was about to beat the hell out of her. All for pride.

Even above the noise of the crowd, they heard the noise in the room above their heads. Smashing. Hitting. Breaking glass. The man shouting, but they couldn’t understand what he was saying.

It only took a few minutes, though felt like an age. Silence. They watched as security moved upstairs with a first aid kit. Alexia’s heart worried for the woman. How badly had he hurt her?

She looked at her watch as it ticked over to five minutes. She looked up as the woman descended the stairs, though she no longer had a jacket, her hair was slightly wilder, and she sported a bruise on her jaw, a split lip and a split, swollen eyebrow. Blood dripped over her eye and down her cheek, a little patch of blood on the split that sported her lip.

Alexia watched her with wide eyes as she walked ever so calmly back over to them. She stopped in front of Alexia with that soft smile returning to her face and she gently took Alexia’s hand, raising it between them. Alexia couldn’t help but notice her knuckles were bruised and bloodied, though she knew it wasn’t hers.

Behind her, the man appeared, being carried down the stairs by the security, unconscious and in much worse of a state. Alexia sucked in a breath at the sight.

The woman gently turned her hand over, her thumb easing her fingers open. She slid the bracelet back on carefully and admired it a second on her wrist before she let go of her hand.

“Some things can’t be replaced.” She murmured. “Drinks are free for the rest of your night, courtesy of Javier. Have a good night.”

She smiled at each of them, lastly at Alexia before she left.

“Wait!” Alexia almost shouted. The woman paused and looked back, one eyebrow lifting in question. “I don’t know your name…”

She smiled at that. “Ridley.”

[raayllum]

Gift Giving & Primal vs First Elves :: Or Going Off Into the Deep Lore Deep End

Remember that meta I compiled about Greek mythology, deceptive gift giving, and TDP? Yeah it's time to talk about the gift motif properly as well as some other deep lore things because these excellent thoughts ( @spicyviren, @kradogsrats, and @its-leethee) got the wheels in my brain spinning.

AKA an unknown amount of sectioned word vomit into the nature of magic, where it comes from, how deep magic operates, some gifts and motifs, and Leola, just a little.

Let's go.

Gift Motif

The gift motif is one that's a bit of a slowburn in TDP. While characters will often pass and hand over objects — tools, artefacts, metaphorical responsibilities or trust (handing over the egg, for example) — to one another, there's not a big emphasis on gifts in the first three seasons.

There are some, such as Callum's letter from Harrow (that he's given by Claudia once again initially as a goodbye), Ezran giving Bait to Barius in S3, and Rayla's family pendant, but most of these, as you've might already noticed, are contextualized within Goodbyes. Whether the gift motif will amount in arc 2 to escaping this "final gift" context remains to be seen, but that's how it tends to work in interpersonal relationships.

There is an element of peace offering in hoping that returning Zym — a gift and/or gesture of good will — will help usher in peace, but I think (as of now at least) that ties further into the series' theme of Reciprocal Exchange (the assassin mission being an eye for an eye vs olive branch for olive branch) than outright gift giving. (Although we will probably talk about Exchange and gift giving at some point because there is also a thematic tether there.)

However, there is one other thing that is more and more often referred to as a gift in Arc 1, and that's Magic. Specifically, dark magic.

Now, this actually isn't that dissimilar from what the Goodbye gifts amount to, either. In Harrow's letter, he gifts Callum the Key of Aaravos believing it to be a powerful magical relic of some kind; Rayla's pendant makes its way from Ethari to her to Callum, who then uses it for magical purposes; and Bait, as a glow toad, is connected to an arcanum himself.

I do think it's noteworthy though that in Arc 1, (dark) magic being a gift is emphasized upon, specifically because of these lines for Khessa:

Upon first watching it back in 2019, it made sense that dark magic would be referred to this way, even when I just thought maybe it was that humans had been given 'nothing,' as Claudia says. Dark magic is closely tied to ideas of theft and thievery — stealing magic from others to harness its power for yourself — and the series is deeply interested in concepts of ownership or who has 'true' ownership over something, in magic, a throne/crown, a price to pay, etc. This follows neatly into Arc 2 (for ex: why Karim seeking to steal the Sun Seed is a metaphorical dark path even if it didn't outright involve dark magic through Kim'Dael), which we'll build on later.

That said, given the depth of the knowledge at the Great Bookery that is open to Sunfire elves more than any other type of elf, and the information that Tales of Xadia and Ripples gives us...

While elves warned that if humans were meant to wield magic they would have been born with it, [Leola] gifted the wisest humans with secrets: the language of the dragons and the runes that shaped spells. With the unicorn’s gift, the most determined minds among the humans could finally harness primal magic.

It happened long ago, when humans had only just learned to hold fire in their hands without burning. They nurtured their precious primal flames secretly—in the dark of night, beneath shadows and shrouds—as cultivating its glow drew the eyes and ire of monsters [...] Humanity had been given something it was never meant to have. And so there came a calamity.

It makes it more than likely than, unlike other elves such as Lujanne or Ibis, Khessa had reason to believe/know that there used to be primal human mages in the past... and that it wasn't 'enough' for them ultimately, because they still hungered and developed (and were given?) dark magic. "Your kind could not be satisfied with what you were given" was about the rejection of primal magic from Leola (the unicorns) in favour of a darker kind that involves theft and "dirtying yourself" (5x08) with dark magic.

But at the same time, this complicates the Gift Giving motif of including not just dark magic, but being also for primal magic — for humans, at least.

And also for elves. (Ignoring how "great orb" is very similar to "great one" for now.)

Janai: It was a gift. But there's more to it than that. The great orb began as this. Karim: This is... a sun seed?

Now, the Great Orb being grown from a Sun 'literal' seed makes sense. We've known for a long time that in Xadia, "magic is everywhere. It's just part of the vibrance or spirit of things" (1x05). Primal magic naturally occurring in plants, animals, and elves likewise makes sense on that note. Just as not "many could bear the gruelling path of a rune mage," Karim cannot bear to have patience and faith in something that will only come to fruition centuries later.

That said, I raise the question: how functionally different is the Great Orb from say, a sun primal stone would hypothetically be? If primal stones and primal magic were gifts to humanity from unicorns — from creatures connected to the Star arcanum, for lack of a better understanding — then why not magic from Startouch (?) elves to other elves.

How do we know that all magic isn't simply a gift that was given once upon a time?

From the First Elves to the Primal Elves.

Primal vs First Elves

So what's the difference between First Elves and Primal elves?

Well we have a few pieces of lore:

1) Zubeia's status as a "heavenly majesty" (which we'll come back to in the next section) gives her authority to speak in the name of the first elves, who are effectively gods to humankind and/or Xadians ("Have our Gods died? / Where do the fabled Great Ones hide?" —the Epic of the Void

2) It seems that the First Elves are, as of now and for a while, exclusively in reference to what would otherwise be called Startouch elves, although the latter is seemingly a name that came later given Rayla's affirmation of "ancient legends". This is reaffirmed in Tales of Xadia's two lone mention of First Elves:

No group of elves presents a greater mystery than the Startouch elves. Sometimes called the First Elves, those bound to the Star primal are rumored to have made great marks on Xadia’s ancient history—but beyond story and legend, little real evidence is left to us today [...] Among the few extant records of Startouch elves are the Scrolls of the First Elves, now kept in the Great Bookery of Lux Aurea.

3) At a post-S2 con in 2019 (how's that for a far reach?) we got a timeline of the events of Xadia laid out for us. The description of the very first piece of history and era we know of goes as follows, with the Rise of Elarion happening 2000 years ago re: the Dragon Prince era ("The Return of Aaravos"):

The Era of the First elves is the first recorded era 5,000 years prior to the current era. Dragons and elves were not allied during this period. There were no distinct primal elves. This is an era before all that. Humans suffered during this period. 

—2019 con timeline

4) Justin and Aaron reaffirm this at the 2:30 ish minute mark of this video (a couple of months before even S3 was released) by reaffirming distinctly to Primal elves. Later (7:40-ish mark) we see this distinction reaffirmed again through the statement of, "The patterns have been that these primal based elves have grown cultures and civilizations that have become separate and differentiated from kind of whatever the early days were with the First elves were."

Okay, so there was 100% a time where there were only First Elves, and humans, and Primal elves as we knew them (maybe still with the hands and horns, but no arcanum? Or no singular, distinct arcanum) didn't exist. Why does this matter?

This is where the deep lore timeline gets tricky, as we don't know precisely when 1) humans received magic and 2) at what stage the First Elves / Great Ones / Startouch elves 'left' Xadia, only that they did, apparently, when Elarion (the human city) needed help: "Elarion, unworthy whelp / Wept as the stars turned black the sky / They donned their masks / They turned their backs / And left Elarion to die". Why abandon the city (beyond indifference/cruelty as Aaravos would likely claim), who knows.

However, we can assume the timeline looks something like this:

Era of the First Elves

Primal elves (and presumably archdragons *) are crafted / develop into being, whatever that means

Humans are magic-less and are having a bad time

Unicorns / Leola extend sympathy despite the fact that the First Elves tell her not to (Book One: Novelization / Tales of Xadia)

Humans have primal magic (Ripples / Tales of Xadia)

This attracts negative attention, consolidated in Elarion ("the stars she asked their light to cast / and stop the dragons’ fiery might" / "as cultivating its glow drew the eyes and ire of monsters. Eventually, for the audacity of their fire, they were hunted")

Elarion asks for help and the Stars leave

Aaravos, the last star — presumably already Fallen from the First Elves — gives them dark magic under the guise of protection even though it will inevitably help him (i.e. give him the ability to possess people)

Dark magic replaces primal magic as the primary form for humans

Tension and violence escalates (unicorns are hunted to near extinction). Sol Regem is removed as King of the Dragons

Under Dragon Queen Luna Tenebris, the daughter of an elven leader suggests the Judgement of the Half-Moon, causing for humans to be banished rather than eradicated, and the continent split in two

Again, nothing too crazy / not too much we haven't already known or guessed at for a while.

But like I said, I'm gonna propose two theories, so bear with me:

Theory #1: What is Deep Magic?

The First Elves engaged with what we're gonna call Deep or Old Magic, for lack of a better term. There can be an assumption at times that this magic would be more 'pure' or less 'diluted' than dark magic or even the primal magic we've seen on screen. However, I think that's less than likely. Dark magic is often times a bad path for good outcomes, and primal magic can be a 'good' magic for bad outcomes (the blood freezing spell, for example).

While dark magic is a more textually malevolent magic system and primal magic is more true neutral — able to be used as a tool and a source of connection for the user — I don't think this necessarily means that Deep Magic is inherently enlightening (we see with the Ocean arcanum and S5 that knowledge can be an immense burden) or that it's on the opposite end of the spectrum and is outright benevolent.

What, then, am I suggesting Deep Magic to be? Well, we have some clues likewise from the same old interview post-s2 that we haven't had much basis to (potentially) understand until now, in which it's stated:

Deeper magic and deeper gifts that the original beings received [...] practical, usable, powerful magic is drawn from the six primal sources, right? But there is this idea that there's this earlier, less differentiated power kind of magic that's deeper and more - I don't kind of want to say what all of them are. It's not that important now, it has more to do with the history of beings and their interactions with each other. But Aaravos cares about some of this stuff. The best I can say is that one of them's Power — but well, what does that mean?

The six primal sources — potentially just five (hence why only 5 gemstones seem to occur naturally in nature, and Star seemingly doesn't) — are all based around physical, somewhat tangible principles. Earth, Ocean, Sun (fire/light), Sky (wind/weather) are perhaps the most tangible, with only Moon dipping into something into something more metaphysical: illusions and questioning the nature of reality, the nature of death, etc. However, I'd argue that the Moon arcanum's emphasis on death still makes it something that is particularly important to creatures who are mortal (but more on that later).

What I am arguing for is then, therefore, that Deep Magic is magic drawn from Concepts and Ideas > tangible things found in nature or parts of other magical creatures.

Three concepts, to be exact: (translated dark magic screenshot from Cartoon Universe spells reversed).

Zubeia: He chose as his instruments those who had strong hearts and strong minds, but who had an insatiable thirst and fascination with magic (power).

Three quasar diamonds, three deep magic concepts. Heart, Mind, Power.

("To know something truly and deeply, you must know it with your head, hand, and heart. Mind, body, and spirit." / "She laid before me her scales, her blindfold, and her sword, and told me to choose.")

Now, I don't know if it's these three concepts exactly — I could Truth, or Justice, or something like that — or even if it's three. But given what little we know about Deep magic thus far and how much the series' likes its threes, I think that's the likeliest number and combination.

We've known for a while that there's something weird with the connection between dark magic, spells that use blood, and 'star' magic. We know it's unlikely that Aaravos being able to possess people who have used dark magic was just a happy accident discovered after humans started using it. We know that when Callum is offered the dark magic version of the cube in his dreams, the symbol is blood red: "You can have unlimited power." And that dark magic "became the key that unlocked a place of power for humans in Xadia" (Tales of Xadia).

So what if dark magic stems from the vein of Deep magic that's taken from the concept of Power? What if when Aaravos offered his pawns "unlimited" Power, or when Kpp'Ar accused Viren of (potentially using star magic) "making the same choice you always made: the one that gives you Power," they meant it?

Alternatively, this could mean that most other Startouch elves — their longevity, their indifference — comes from the vein of Mind and subsequent intellectual detachment? Enough intelligence and reason not to hunger for more (Power), but not enough compassion and empathy to sympathize with others (Heart).

And it would also tie into Leola being unique among her own kind for her heart taking pity on the humans, and giving them primal magic — perhaps in the vein of Heart, if we're keeping things consistent — and why love ("To know something truly and deeply [...] I love you with all of myself, and I always will" / "To love is simply to know this: the tides are true as the ocean is deep") has been consistently tied to Callum unlocking arcanums. The "Narrative of Strength (power)" vs "Narrative of Love" being even more literal than we thought.

This wouldn't be too out of line since Moon arcanum philosophy already borrows heavily from Plato's idea of the forms/reality (Plato's allegory of the cave, anyone?) and the forms basically mean "your imagined ideal of the object in your mind is going to be more perfect than any tangible, 'real' version of the object could ever be." That being applied to living beings who are literally in the sky would track a certain amount, in addition to the idea that however primal magic is set up in Xadia right is "the whole world is like a giant primal stone; sky magic is all around us, and it's also in me, with every breath we take." But I digress.

With the distinction of Deep Magic as 1) separate and a sea that flows into the primal as well as 2) older and earlier than primal magic, now onto the next theory:

Theory #2: First elves and the Archdragons?

Now admittedly this one is more speculative since beyond knowing 1) the First elves = what we'd call Startouch elves, 2) the rest of them except Aaravos 'left' Xadia a while ago, and 3) the aforementioned possible 'Mind' deep magic thing, we very quickly run out of set knowledge into full blown speculation. Beyond

With that in mind, I wanna talk about the... weirdness, I suppose, between the Archdragons / draconic royal family and the First Elves.

There's a few notes to this: we know that Ancient Draconic is the language of primal magic, indicating that dragons existed and presumably had primal magic before elves did, and that elves had to be given that linguistic knowledge at least to a certain degree.

Then we also have the way Zubeia is referred to being mirrored with the way she describes Aaravos later:

Likewise, the one person/creature we've seen referred to as a god outside the Epic of the Void poem is Avizandum by Harrow (bonus points for the game motif of "entire armies have fallen like toys" because of him):

Bloodmoon Huntress also asserts that from an elven point of view (or at least Lain and Tiadrin, and presumably Runaan, too) that "Dragons are the lifeblood, the very core of Xadia" and generally assumed that dragons have the most powerful connection to their individual primal sources.

So I'd be willing to wager (esp since Sol Regem is at least 1,2000+ years old) that Archdragons at least once upon a time had been contemporaries of the First Elves if not peers. What and why that connection exists and how relevant it is for today, I don't know, but I do think there's something there, especially since the one example we have of a First Elf-Dragon relationship in Aaravos, Avizandum, and Zubeia, was perceived to be positive somewhat on all sides — a matter of trust on his end (in order to be "betrayed") and a matter of reverence and importance on theirs; "admired and loved by all" / "you meant something to him".

There is also something to be said for the Archdragons being the most powerful embodiment of the primal sources (alongside maybe some rare and noteworthy elves, like Queen Aditi) still being "unable to risk a direct confrontation" with only one singular and Fallen Startouch elf. What would a whole slew of them at the height of their power look like? (And yet it is implied that the Nova Blade is "ivory draconic" so... maybe you just have to get a First Elf close enough to the mouth to be consumed / bitten? Or perhaps the Nova Blade is made from the tooth/claw of a 'Star' arcanum dragon.)

TLDR; it's looking more and more like Startouch elves as we understand them and First Elves in generally are — while emotive and feeling the way humans and elves are — something very different from anything else we've seen thus far in terms of knowledge and power skill, and that distinction is only going to be made more and more apparent as the story goes on.

Theory #3: Where do we go from here?

So if Deep Magic is distinct from Primal, and is distinct from 2/3 kinds of Deep Magic in dark magic (derived from 5-primal and Power deep magic thoughts)... where do we go from here, magically speaking?

Well, the important thing to note is that the story has given us some thematic clues. Aaravos is concerned with exile and power, both things we see thematically most represented by human characters (with some elven exceptions like Karim and Kim'Dael). The other Star touch elves are very on brand for "Xadian exile" as their favourite punishment as well as extreme isolationism ("I knew I had to be strong alone" etc). Therefore, whatever answer we give Magically also has to reconcile these issues from a thematic and character based standpoint.

It seems like a switch of where people are concentrating energy — for Startouch elves and humans — needs to have a drastic shift to one of the other veins/concepts of deep magic that will hopefully heal the rifts. If Aaravos is Power (humans) and the others are 'Mind' (Xadian indifference/isolation and banishment) for lack of a better idea, then subverting that binary and shifting more to a third 'Love' path seems to be very on brand for TDP. Holding both at the same time but being guided by a higher principle of peace and harm reduction is what Ezran's 4x03 speech is all about, after all.

Something something both Xadia and magic and the First Elves being reunited with Xadia / humanity and elvenkind as TDP's endgame, something something.

Other Gift Giving Thoughts

The other thing I wanna talk about now that everything else is laid out is how gifts are Given, in TDP. We see time and time again relationships and magic systems being framed on the idea of whether they are giving, taking, both in a bad way or in a good way. There seems to be two main indicators for gift giving, therefore, either that in the receiver is worthy, or that the exchange is going to be reciprocal.

At its best, a gift works as intended.

Humans (and elves?) are given primal magic and generally use it for exploration and to care for themselves / one another The sun seed is given to the Sunfire elves, but they must nurture it. Callum gives Rayla her father's bow and she uses it to protect them. Callum achieves enlightenment and understanding of him and is rewarded with primal magic twice, even if the Ocean in particular is a bit murkier than he'd probably like. Gifts and belongings are relinquished or restored for freedom, for hope, for peace.

Here we have to wonder if Leola's Last Wish reconciles both the Goodbye gift motif and the gift of Magic motif, possibly resulting in the gift of the sun seed or more likely something to do with primal magic / alleviate the fallout of dark magic's consequences.

For example, to get an answer from Rex Igneous — a seeming wealth of knowledge — you have to give him a worthy gift that is also a sacrifice of some kind, according to Nath'an.

However, Ezran points out the major flaw in this line of thinking, as "We offered gifts that meant a lot to us, but the truth is, they don't mean anything to you." Not everyone is going to value the same thing or think the same thing is worth the price that was paid.

We see this interpersonally most with the mage fam ("Maybe the world would be better off without magic" from Soren, whose life was saved with it) and with Rayla and Callum (as Rayla's gift of sacrifice by leaving is something Callum did not want and rightfully did not receive well, alongside her moonstone pendant). Again: what is defined as worthy, or worthiness, is in the eye of the beholder.

Just like one of the initial thoughts that inspired this meta, Khessa asserts that dark magic is a magic that "takes" > being reciprocal for both parties, nevermind a gift. The irony, however, runs a bit deeper, as Aaravos thinks the same of his fellow stars:

But the stars kept from them one secret still: that their first lesson—patience—was not a gift of the stars at all. You see, patience is a lesson the humans taught themselves. No, the stars do not know patience, for they have no need for it. The stars want for nothing, and take all to their liking.

And we see this idea of a 'false gift' show up time and time again in the series. Nyx pretends to offer passage but actually wants to steal Zym; Rayla's act of love in leaving is a curse upon Callum's heart and wellbeing; dark magic itself is a false trade of sorts, given how unevenly it tips scales in Aaravos' favour and how much it ruins both the environment and body of its caster.

[The elven thief Lasair] never saw the precious blossoms fade and turn to cold ashes when exposed to the dawn. They never learned their gift was perceived as a curse, not a trade. 

—Tales of Xadia

Kim'Dael goes to Queen Aditi under false pretences ("The Queen's Mercy") but the gift that Aditi gives her is nothing good at all:

What pretty bauble, she wondered, had she tricked the queen into forging as a token of protection? What could be powerful enough to ward away the wrath of dragons?

Just as humans sought the stars' help to protect them from the ire of the dragons, Kim'Dael sought Aditi's. And just as Aaravos offered them a false magic that would protect and ultimately trap/destroy then, so does Aditi, with magic that doesn't seem to be entirely dark or primal:

“But know this: the binding around your neck—it is made with magic not unlike your own. It is a magic that demands, that takes."

A form of magic even maybe that demands sacrifice for that kind of Power.

You could almost say it's something Deeper.

Conclusion

Hope you enjoyed going completely off the rails with me, and that this long (winded) post got you thinking! I'll probably do a followup discussing the implications of what we have here for potential Laurelion-Aaravos later. In the meantime, take the fruits of my labour, and spin your own hamster wheels if you'd like.

[dvinaamesca]

Hi,Maria,thank you for the reply ❤️‍🔥

It's glad to hear that my idea drew your interest,maybe one day you will figure out how to do so with other softwares or techniques,I am looking forward to that.😎👍

By the way, here's my request:Plz make some more pictures with Pino and Claudia hanging out together,make P slightly taller than her,and full body pictures are welcome,for sure.😄(P X Red Fox is fabulous,thanks to you🐺❤️‍🔥🦊)

Thank you so much,have a great day, support you always 🤠

Haiyah again! Thank you vm for requesting. I think it's more than just a hangout haha. Ngl I quite enjoy the pairing (and Lucio third wheeling). I really don't know how to summon characters, based on the previous requests. I let them follow me all the way to the area where they normally stop following you, so they stopped by the stairs. The background however was perfect (one with BRB fire symbol). Hope you like these couple shots instead~ <3

[sorinethemastermind]

Aight so i saw this meme on tumblr where it was a therapist going "and what do we do when things go wrong?" and it had like, the list of responses and what the TDP characters would say. Soren's was "fistfight God". Could you write a small blurb of Soren trying to "fistfight God" (aka aaravos) after the death of, like, Claudia?

I am more than happy to oblige 😈 (You have no idea how many times I've imagined this scenario because apparently I'm basic and the way I enjoy characters is by making them suffer) So anyway, here you go! Prepare for angst.

 It all happened very quickly. Too quickly for Soren to do anything more than stare in horror as the body of his little sister slumped to the ground before him. Aaravos sighed, looking down at her lifeless form on the ground before him, and shook his head.

 “What a pity.” 

 And that was it. The battle continued to rage around them, as if nothing had happened. As if an earth shattering, world ending, cataclysmic event hadn’t just occurred. As if Soren’s entire world hadn’t just come apart at the seams and his heart hadn’t been ripped from his chest and stomped to pieces on the ground. In fact, most of the people around him didn’t even seem to notice that she was gone.

 But she was gone. Soren was sure of it the moment he took her small, limp form in his arms. He didn’t bother begging her to wake up; he knew it was pointless. He’d been around enough death to know what it looked like. And anyway, even if he had wanted to, there were no words left in him to say. It was like all the words and the music and the color had drained out of the world in that single moment; there for so long and yet gone in an instant.

 Because even if Claudia had been a threat, or dangerous, or doing something horrible; 

she had been there to do it. Even if she had looked at him with hatred in her eyes and told him he’d killed their father, she had been there to be angry at him. And even if she had laughed at the lot of them and stood by Aaravos’ side even when they tried to reason with her, she had been there to make that mistake. And Soren had always been able to tell himself that one day she would see the right path again. That he could help her find it. 

 But now she wouldn’t see anything ever again. And what made it worse was that it wasn’t because of some horrible spell she’d decided to cast, or some heinous thing their Dad had asked of her, or even something that Aaravos himself had told her to do. It had been because of Soren. Because, after all these years, he had gotten through to her and led her down a different path. The one he’d thought was right.

 Except it couldn’t have been the right one, because it had ended here.

 Soren didn’t cry. That would come later. Instead, he closed Claudia’s eyes, and he placed her body gently back onto the ground. His hands clenched into fists at his sides as he rose, and then there was a color in the world again; red. 

 It was like a haze filling his vision as he retrieved his sword from where he’d dropped it, zeroing in on his target. As he watched, the elf, titan sized again, swatted away a group of Katolis soldiers on horseback. With his other hand he drew a rune in the air, almost lazily, and incinerated the wave of arrows coming at him. Soren gritted his teeth. He was nothing; a nuisance to this thing. This monster.

 But he didn’t care. If all he could do was annoy Aaravos, then that was what he would do.

 He ran at him wildly, joining the rest of their forces in hacking wildly at his ankles. But it was nothing to the elf; who simply raised his foot up and brought it down on them. Soren probably wouldn’t have even bothered to dive out of the way except Corvus was there, throwing himself at Soren and knocking them clear just as the godlike being’s foot came down, catching anyone not quite fast enough to evade him.

 “Soren, be careful!” Corvus panted, but Soren hardly heard him. He pushed him off, climbing back to his feet, and was about to run right back at Aaravos when something occurred to him. It was a long shot, he knew, but it just might work.

 Instead of running back into the throng of humans and elves gathered around Aaravos’ feet, Soren took off in the opposite direction. 

 “Soren, where are you going!?” Corvus called after him, but Soren paid him no mind. Paid no mind to anybody as he fought his way back out through the army of people and into clear, open space. 

 “Pyrrah!” he yelled, waving his arms over his head. “Pyrrah, over here!”

 It took a moment for the dragon to spot him, but when she did she swooped down low enough for him to leap up and grab onto some of the ridged scales that adorned her sides and swing himself up onto her back.

 “Do you trust me?” he asked her, having to shout to be heard over the cacophony below. She roared in response, and Soren hoped that was a yes, because he didn’t have any other plan.  “I need you to find me Zubeia. Do you know where she crashed?”

 Pyrrah flicked her head back to look at him, but she didn’t argue. Not that she really could, anyway. Still, he felt like he needed to explain himself.

 “It’s the only way to really hurt him.” Soren told her. 

 Pyrrah spread her wings out wider and flapped up further into the sky, hurtling past Aaravos and back towards the forest. Soren scanned the foliage for any signs of the Archdragon. It didn’t take long; it was sort of hard to hide the body of a dragon that size.

 Their original plan, the one Ezran and Callum had come up with, had involved them all distracting Aaravos long enough for Zubeia to come down and defeat him. But the problem with having an ace up your sleeve that size was that it was sort of hard to be stealthy, and Aaravos had knocked her out of the sky almost as soon as she took to it. But maybe she could still stop him, even now.

 Soren dropped from Pyrrah’s back and ran up to Zubeia’s head, trying not to think about what he was doing as he pried open the great dragon’s mouth and broke off one of her teeth, already fractured in the impact, before running back. Pyrrah looked at him with some judgment, but he honestly couldn’t care less.

 “This is for her.” he said, clambering back onto the smaller dragon’s back so she could take flight. “Just get me close enough to make it worth it.”

 Maybe the good thing about being a nuisance is that nobody takes you seriously. Pyrrah was able over Aaravos’ shoulder just close enough to make what Soren was about to attempt not entirely impossible, if still highly improbable. As she did he stood up, balancing as best he could, and then pushed off before he could think twice of it. 

 Maybe the good thing about only seeing red is that you don’t care if what you’re doing is probably - definitely - going to get you killed. Other colors might be overrated. Soren had pretty much forgotten what seeing them felt like, anyway.

 There was a long, echoing moment in which Soren was flying - except his wings were broken and the sky around him was about to realize that and send him plummeting to his doom - and then he was tumbling onto Aaravos’ shoulder, grabbing wildly at the edges of the titan’s tunic so as not to slide off. 

 The elf did notice him then, lifting a hand to flick him away, but Soren only needed a single moment. And in that single stolen moment, as the hand of his enemy came to swat him away, Soren took Zubeia’s fang and he jammed it hard into the side of Aaravos’ neck. 

 The elf howled, the sound echoing out over what seemed to be the entire world, and he stumbled; nearly throwing Soren off him just with the single motion. But he hung on to the fang where it had been stuck securely into Aaravos’ neck, and once the ground had evened out below him, shoved it in even deeper.

 He pushed it in with every scrap of strength he had left, every ounce of rage and loss and pain that filled him. Every bleeding shade of red that filled his vision. And then the elf was tumbling down, and Soren lost his grip, going flying into the air.

 Some people say that their lives flash before their eyes when they die, but that isn’t what Soren saw as the ground rushed up to meet him. Instead he saw Claudia; small and laughing at some stupid joke he’d made, telling him in detail about some spell she was learning, heaping enough pancakes onto her plate to feed ten people her size, falling asleep on his shoulder, pulling a goofy face at him and cracking herself up.

 And she wasn’t red, she was every color she’d ever been.

[takaraphoenix]

Tutoring and Teasing (Sneak Peek)

(GUESS who is writing her first Steter smut??? So, naturally, I gotta celebrate that by teasing you with the scene leading up to the smut. I present to you, my No Hale Fire AU where Peter raised Malia alone, and Stiles still manages to get dragged into the supernatural and into the Hale Pack. Now, Stiles is trying really hard to seduce Malia's hot dad, while Peter is trying really hard to not get too close to his supposedly underage mate... until he learns that Stiles got held back a year. The full fic will be posted here and on AO3 on August 9th!)

--

“So—o,” Stiles’ eyes wandered over the kitchen and settled on the calendar. “Any plans for Mal’s upcoming birthday? Sweet seventeen. I know it’s sweet sixteen, but I think seventeen can be sweet too. I know what we have planned with her, but well. I always have special plans with my dad too on my birthday, so... Do you have any plans?”

Peter turned to look at the calendar too. Malia’s birthday was circled with a blue heart, two weeks from now. The smallest smile spread over his lips at the thought. A small noise from Stiles drew his attention back to the teen. The look on Stiles’ face was nearly smitten as he stared at Peter.

“I’m taking her camping,” Peter replied, to distract himself. “We’re spending the whole weekend in the mountains, hunting and enjoying the forest, and then I’ll bring her back home in time for her party in the evening that I know you have meticulously planned.”

“Nah, I did moderate planning. Lydia did the meticulous bits,” Stiles grinned. “But that sounds awesome. I didn’t know you guys hunted though.”

Oh, that was too tempting, Peter couldn’t help but flash his blue eyes and grin with sharp fangs. “Of course do we hunt, Stiles. We’re predators.”

The scent of arousal was so sudden and so strong, it made Peter growl. This boy tormented him.

“What about you,” Peter cleared his throat. “I mean, your seventeenth birthday?”

“Tha—at would require a time-machine,” Stiles blinked those pretty doe-eyes at him with a grin.

“Oh,” Peter blinked slowly. “I didn’t realize you were older than Malia.”

“I’m eighteen.”

Peter froze, his fork in his hand, hovering just in front of his mouth. “What.”

Those eyes again, eyelashes batting against pale cheeks as he blinked. “I’m eighteen. Have been for like three months now. I got held back a year when, well, when my mom died. Had just a couple too many panic attacks to keep up my school work and stuff. But hey, that’s how I ended up in the same class as Scotty, which inevitably brought me here, so there’s that.”

“You’re eighteen,” Peter repeated, dragging the word out.

He knew of Claudia Stilinski, of course, but he hadn’t known that Stiles had been held back because of it. As much as Peter wanted to focus on that part, on comforting his mate about his mother’s death, expressing his condolences, all he could focus on was the fact that his mate was legal.

“Uh… huh…?” Stiles looked very confused. “Okay. What am I missing here because I am missing something, you are being super weird right now.”

Peter was out of his chair in a moment and so was Stiles, jumping up startled by Peter’s sudden movement. With the lowest growl did Peter back Stiles up against the counter, until the boy bumped into it. His heart was racing but Peter didn’t smell any fear, only arousal. Again. Damn that boy.

“Three months,” Peter dragged the words out of himself. “I could have had you for three months.”

“What,” Stiles squeaked, so high it hurt Peter’s werewolf ears.

Peter braced himself on either side of Stiles, caging the teen between his arms. He leaned down, finally allowing himself to drag his nose along the length of that tempting, pale neck. A whimper. An actual whimper was what he got. Peter growled again, darker, possessive.

“I know you noticed that I’ve been avoiding you.”

“Y… Yeah. Honestly, I figured I was just making you uncomfortable with my horniness for your… everything… considering that werewolf senses are sharper, so you’ve probably been able to tell from the moment we met,” Stiles looked embarrassed by that. “So, yeah, didn’t take the avoidance personal, because I guess I would avoid someone too if I could smell them get horny for me all the time while I don’t want them but also this is giving me very confusing, different vibes.”

“I wasn’t avoiding you because of that,” Peter huffed out a breathy laugh. “I was avoiding you because of how much I want you, how much I need you. Because you are… were… the underage son of the sheriff and friend of my daughter. But you’re also mine.”

Another whimper, even more delicious than the first. “Wait, what.”

“You’re my mate,” Peter’s voice dropped, softer now, filled with the awe this fact bestowed upon him. “You’re mine. I knew it the moment you lot walked into the Hale House for the first time. And I’ve been avoiding you since then, willing to wait until your graduation, until you’re legal, but… if you’re telling me that you’re eighteen, right now, I will not wait for your graduation.”

“Wait… uhm… with what?”

“To claim what’s mine,” Peter purred pleased, licking a stripe up Stiles’ neck.

“Oh fuck,” Stiles gasped out, grabbing Peter’s arms. “Okay.”

“...Okay?” Peter reluctantly removed his face from Stiles’ neck to look at his mate.

“I mean,” Stiles let go of Peter so he could motion around a little with his hands. “I know about werewolf mates. I am literally friends with the three most insufferable pairs of True Mates in the existence of mates – and yes, I am fully calling it, as soon as Jackson receives the bite and turns into a werewolf, him and Lydia are going to have an epic True Mate realization. I know what True Mates mean for wolves, and I know how it works. It also really explains why I have been so ridiculously drawn to you, I mean, I know I like older guys, but damn you’re doing things to me.”

“I’d love to do things to you,” Peter offered the most wolfish grin.

[delusional-mushroom]

Part one |•| Part two |•| Part three

And they were staring right at you.

Ironically, the figure in the mirror imitated your own shocked expression.

But it was obvious they were no mere reflection.

Their dark blue lips parted surprise. Tentatively, they brought their bedazzled hands up to pull back the hood of their cloak. Almost as if they were approaching a skittish stray cat. Their towering form bending gently at the neck.

They weren’t human — if their pointy ears and almost antler-like, purple horns were anything to go by.

For a few seconds, you froze.

It was like time itself halted, leaving you with nothing but your racing thoughts and the frantic drumming of your heart. Eyes wide, your gaze never left the mirror. You couldn’t turn away. Even a blink proved to be impossible with your tense form. You didn’t know why, but the figure looked oh so familiar. Like you’ve known it for a lifetime and more. And yet, you’re certain you’ve never seen anyone resembling a ridiculously tall, glittery smurf.

A thud interrupted your train of thought.

A hand — a large, calloused, blue hand — pressed up against the glass of the mirror, a desperate look on the figure’s face to boot.

Nope!

You flung the covering back onto the mirror, ignoring the almost pained look the stranger shot you. Although now once again obscured, you could still feel their unusual eyes raking over your unnerved form.

What. The. Fuck.

Breathing heavily, you glanced around the office.

Just like before, glimmering jewels and preserved parts stocked the sturdy wooden shelves. Save for the blown out candles, everything was the same.

But that didn’t ease your nerves. Not in the slightest.

Sparing the room one last spooked glance, you turned on your heel and ran out into the halls. Unlike the dimly lit chamber, the grand corridors welcomed plenty of sunlight through grandiose window. After the past few minutes, it was comforting, to say the least.

After a few minutes of walking, (a dubious look from one of the crown guards had you reigning in your speed) you found yourself striding through the library doors.

“[Name]?”

You nearly screamed at the call.

“Whoa, calm down, you scaredy cat—“ Claudia stood up from the library loveseat she was splayed out on, laying a thick book upside down on the armrest. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost — Hey! You were meant to wait for me in Dad’s office!” Her recollection came with pinched eyebrows and a pointed stare from the librarian.

“Claudia,” you start, tapping your fingers to your thumb in anxiety. “Something happened.”

“What? Ugh, did Dad catch you? I swear if I have to listen to another lecture about ‘respecting the sanctity of the high mages office’ I’m going to—“

“No, oh gods no,’ you chuckle at the thought. So many hours that you would never get back. “I found something…” the nervousness returned. Like the maddening screech of nails on a chalkboard, it invaded every inch of your conscious — that fucking mirror.

And that is how you found yourself in that room again.

At least Claudia was here, her presence was a much appreciated comfort.

“So whats this about a glittery guy in the mirror?” Claudia’s inquisitive query drew you back from the raging sea of your thoughts.

“I’m telling you, he was there! Or maybe she — either way! There’s a person in the mirror!” Now that you think about it, you didn’t even see much of the sparkly horror in the looking glass, yet their strange eyes remained ingrained in your mind.

“I’m not seeing anyone, Oh! Maybe there’s a spell,” she raised her hands and wriggled her fingers with funny face. “Mirror, Mirror, on the wall, Who’s the fairest of them all?” Her reflection stared back at her, silly expression and all. “Oh my god, that’s so nice of you mirror guy!” You rolled your eyes at her bashful giggle

“Ha. ha. Very funny.” Your deadpan was strong enough to turn any normal person to stone. Claudia, of course, was no normal person.

“I know right? I’m hilarious,” she snorted., before her face lights up in a realisation. “Wait… today’s the first of April… Was this a prank all along??!”

The only thing you could do was sigh, shoulders slumped.

“Pfft, good one.” Suddenly, she grabbed ahold of your arm and led you back to the library. “Now come on, I have to show you something.”

Aaravos wasn’t dreaming.

It really was you. The change of your skin tone, and the deviation of your hair colour, even the lack of starry freckles — none of that meant anything. It was you, he was sure of it.

That wondrous look in your eyes, the way you stood, and the way you kept your hair, they all caused his breath to hitch and his hands to shake.

Every detail, both new and old, threatened to draw tears from his darkened eyes.

Your ears were round — so you were a human, and from the way you were dressed, he guessed that you were at least living comfortably, but standards change with the times. By the looks of it, you weren’t that old — probably still in your early teens.

Every curve of your face, every emotion that flickered in your eyes, it all brought him so much pain.

And now as he cradled himself on the floor with his hair a stranded mess, he sobbed pathetically. Fate truly was cruel.

His sibling, his nefarious goblin, he might even go as far as calling you his first child, ripped away from him and dangled just out of reach behind that blasted mirror.

And you were afraid of him.

Those eyes — bright pools of [e/c] wonder — that used to look to him with adoration and jubilance, now gazed at him with fear and unease.

His four-fingered hands clutched his pearly locks as he wept, bitter anguish reaping what was left of his soul.

The memory of the nova blade sinking into your heart like a knife in butter always haunted him, but he swore that your pained screams rung so much louder today.

And they never stopped…

[arcadianmoonshadowjedi]

Rayllum Month Day 1 - Thinking of You Under Every Full Moon

Wrote this quick angsty ficlet for today’s prompt! It’s set during S4 episode 1 during Callum’s birthday party before Ezran went out to the balcony to check on him and simultaneously right after Chasing Shadows leading up to the Rayllum reunion. I hope you like it 😊🌕

Callum stood in the balcony away from all of the music and chatter from the party. His eyes were locked on the almost-full moon up in the sky. All he could think about… was her.

It’s been exactly two years since he woke up only to find that dreadful letter she left him. She was gone and she told him not to follow or look for her. What was supposed to be his first birthday with her in his life turned into a day filled with heartbreak and agony. It’s been that way his last birthday, and this one as well.

Staring at the bright moon in the sky, he wondered. Was she looking at it now too? Was she still thinking of him? What did she look like? Did she get taller and was she still taller than him? Did her beautiful silvery hair grow longer? So many thoughts dwelled in his head as he stared at the bright glowing ball in the sky.

🌑🌘🌗🌖🌕🌔🌓🌒🌑

It’s been days since Rayla left Scumport, after she decided she was going back home. Not the Silvergrove, Katolis. Today was his birthday. The day she wrote him the letter telling him of her gift. Her gift of protecting him from any harm coming to him. From even the slightest possibility of Viren hurting him like he hurt her parents. But she still failed. She couldn’t find him or Claudia anywhere and now she was going back to Katolis despite her failure. She didn’t know what to think or how to feel. On one hand, she was excited to see Callum again, but on the other hand, after two years of leaving him for this mission that she ended up failing in, she knew that he wouldn’t react to seeing her with hugs and kisses.

She looked up at the moon, it was only a few days until it was full. It was also a few days until she would finally see him again. She knew for a fact that he would be looking at the moon right now. For her, looking at it was like looking at what finally lied ahead. Seeing him for the first time in two years. Her heart grew heavy as she thought about what he might be going through at the moment. All she could think about, was how will she start a conversation with him after all this time? How will she explain to him that she failed to find the very dark mage she was protecting him from? How can she make things right with him and ease the hurt she caused him?

🌑🌘🌗🌖🌕🌔🌓🌒🌑

It was finally the night of the full moon, Rayla looked up it as a slight breeze blew against her face. She took a deep breath, then she went into her near-invisible Moonshadow form. She tucked Stella in her hood and made sure she was holding on tight. She then drew out her butterfly blades, threw herself against the castle walls, and began climbing up, bracing herself for the moment to come.

Aaaaand that’s all! Thank you so much for reading and I really hope you liked it 😊 I know the moon wasn’t entirely full in this ep but the scene where Ezran and Callum were talking about Rayla and looking at the moon really inspired me to write this. Aaaand I included a teeny bit of the full moon towards the end haha! Credit for the idea of using the moon emojis as dividers goes to @a-very-sparkly-nerd 🙌🏽 I highly recommend reading their amazing fic for today on their blog 😁 Thanks again and happy Rayllum Month 🙌🏽💙❤️🌙💜💚

[psychictimestone]

Silver Week day 2: Delivery 📦

During his world trip across the world of the past with Blaze, Silver sees a sign on a post office in Soleanna requesting help. Perhaps the day has one or two gifts for him too...!

A03 Link:

----

A crisp. autumnal morning settled over the island principality of Soleanna. Mild sun rays peeked through heavy cotton clouds that drifted in the azure sky. Despite the chill that was synonymous with the soon arrival of winter, there was an ever-present liveliness about the Castle Town, people happily going about their day as they set up their shops and services for both returning customers and the ever-present visitors of the island vista.

Nestled deep within the castle town was a quaint post office with large navy doors, and the soleannan eagle presented clearly and proudly on each. The initials ''SPS'—short for Soleanna Postal Service—swung from a wooden sign that slowly creeked in the breeze.

The small building caught the eye of a golden-eyed hedgehog who happened to be passing by. On a trip to Soleanna as part of a grand world tour to learn more about the time he found himself in so often that it had become a second home despite having no true place to call a base.

A deep connection, unexplainable in many ways, drew him to the principality, like a deep calling in his soul. A deeper feeling of home than anywhere else in this time bought him.

A sign on the door had caught his eye: "Help wanted! Delivery service required!' He had been told by his road trip companion, Blaze, to explore today as they would be heading south to Mazuri the next morning.

But the desire for help tugged at him. His powers were useful for lifting things, so it wouldn't take too long anyway.... With his mind made up, the hedgehog entered the post office with a hum.

donned in a small post office outfit complete with an oversized hat, the hedgehog was good to go; a brown satchel of letters swung over his shoulder as parcels floated to his side. The sight had surprised the kind old lady who ran the post office at first but had quickly become delighted at the capabilities of her new temporary worker. To see her smile made Silver's heart warm, deciding to whisk up a few extra parcels in his hold with a beaming smile.

With his gear in tow, Silver took off through the window with his clipboard in hand, leaving the woman astounded once more.

---

"And that's Mr. Paganini's parcel delivered. Wonder what he needed such a big barrel for." Silver pondered aloud as he crossed off a name from his list, smiling to himself as he floated down to the floor from the balcony he had flown to a few moments prior. "And also Miss Claudia's too. It appears they were from the bakery."

As the hedgehog settled to watch the gondola pass in the canals of the city, he hummed to himself in thought. "Only a few more left; I wonder if there will be time to watch the fireworks tonight."

Silver shook his head; he was wasting time just standing here. Four more left, and the principality would be full of smiles.

That brightness would rival a fireworks show any day of the week.

----

Awash in a psychic glaze, a ballpoint pen crossed off the penultimate name. "That's the second-to-last one done. Just one more left."

Running a finger across the details, the hedgehog hummed in amusement. "Hey, that's the block me and Blaze are staying in; that's a coincidence."

But looking once again, the hedgehog did a double take, "Blaze?!" Indeed, it was addressed to his dear friend in question. When had that sneaky cat ordered something to be delivered in the short time they had been in the principality?

And more importantly, why hasn't she told him?

A curious frown quirked onto his muzzle, lifting the small, light package from his psychic hold into his arms.

He supposed it was time to find out—no time like the present—as she had once put it.

Kicking a foot under him, the hedgehog shot to the sky like a cyan rocket whose destination was the small apartment he had called home for the last week.

---

A signature three knocks ran on the apartment door.

Knock-knock, knock

Soon after, the rich wooden door was opened to the sight of the pyrokinetic princess. Her amber eyes appeared to widen before composing themselves. If one were to hazard a guess, the dimension traveller had not been expecting her closest friend to be at the door dressed as a postman.

"Silver...?"

"Special Delivery!" The hedgehog announced brightly, handing his friend the neatly wrapped parcel within a swirl of psychic powers and a flick of the finger.

The purple princess plucked the parcel out of the sky, smiling to herself a little as she held out the parcel towards Silver.

"Special delivery!" She echoed with a hint of mischief.

"Huh..?"

"It's for you; open it." The princess implored with a hint of a smile.

Curiosity raised, Silver began to tear away at the brown paper wrapping until it revealed its contents. The hedgehog raised the furry long bundle, unfurling the cashmere object with his psychokinesis to inspect it.

The object in question was long, rectangular, and cyan; embellishments dangled from each end, and there was the familiar look of the Soleannan apple printed over its surface.

"Its so soft." The hedgehog noted in awe. "What is it?"

Blaze huffed in amusement to herself and gently tugged off the small tie the hedgehog had adorned. "It's a scarf. I had one specially made. You told me you're not used to winter with your upbringing, so I found it fit to get you one, seeing as you're so relucent to wear a heavy coat."

"Thank you, Blaze; you really didn't have t..."

"Hush." The cat told her friend gently, wrapping the scarf around his collar until it was perfectly wrapped. "I wanted to do something for my friend; is that not allowed?"

"No, of course it is." Silver smiled brightly, gently pinching the fabric between his thumb and forefinger, feeling its softness through his gloves. "I'm just not used to such nice presents off anyone."

"It is my pleasure, and I would do the same again." She offered with a warmth only reserved for her friends, a small smile off her own still present on her muzzle. "After all, as someone once told me, that's what friends do; they help each other out."

"You're the best!" He reached out to hug his dear friend, who, despite her initial surprise, returned with deep pleasure and joy. The two stood there for what felt like an eternity, soaking in the others warmth like the scarf he now donned. A warmth that transcended time-space and understanding.

Eventually the hug was broken by Blaze. "It's getting dark; I suggest we head out before we miss the fireworks."

He had almost forgotten! The fireworks festival, a speciality of Soleanna, was told like a legend far and wide—an experience that everyone needed to see at least once in their lifetime to be believed.

"Of course! The fireworks." Hurriedly, the postman's attire was whisked off and laid haphazardly in their little porch. Silver was sure the lady running the post office wouldn't mind if he returned them in the morning instead.

Before Blaze could protest, her hand was grabbed, and the pair zoomed out of the building into the night in a veil of psychokinesis; Blaze's cries over the height lost the wind...

----

"Hey Blaze, look, candy apples!" He gently tugged his friend over to a small stall that had perfectly and neatly wrapped sugar apples that stood proudly like an army on a stall. "Would you like one?"

"That would be delightful." The cat agreed, prompting silver to float in order to reach the far-too-tall counter.

"Hey, can we get two?"

"That will be—wait, its you!" Silver recognised that voice—the post office lady. "I've never had such fast postal service in my life! Take them on the house!"

"Are you sure? I was just helping out..." the psychic scratched at his cheek with a finger, not expecting the generosity.

"Of course I am; everyone in the town was telling me how fast and helpful you were. It's the least I can offer!" She smiled warmly at the young hedgehog.

"Well ok. If you're sure, then these two." He whisked a hand up, lifting an apple with a cyan bow and another with an orange into his hold. "Thanks!"

"No, thank you!" She called as they waved goodbye with a pair of smiles. "And that scarf of yours looks lovely!"

Handing Blaze the orange apple as he landed, the Princess smirked in his direction. "It appears the both of us have something to learn about not working so hard on vaction."

"Hm? I just like seeing them smile. The happiness when they see their parcels being delivered is what makes this place so wonderful!"

"You may have a point; seeing the smiles of those you serve has an air of satisfaction." Blaze conceded.

Then

BANG! Whizz!

"Woah, Fireworks!"

Oohs and awes filled the castle town, which began to illuminate in a rainbow of sparks, a myriad of amazed smiles forming amongst the crowd.

With his scarf nestled around his neck and candy apple in his grasp, Silver beamed brightest of all, enough to rival the stars twinkling behind the fireworks in the sky.

This moment in time was the greatest gift of them all.

[fandomsandflyingstingrays]

If you want an angstier prompt/don’t have too many others, how about Callum and Rayla comforting each other in the aftermath of their captivity aboard the Sea Legs?

Oh I am always up for some Finnegrin's Wake-related angst, thank you so much for the prompt!!

Rayla expected Callum to smile when she pulled back from their hug, to see the relief coursing through her body reflected on his face. Instead, his expression was… blank. It sent a jolt of confusion through her before her brain found the explanation. 

Shock. Of course he was in shock, he’d been beaten— and he must have been terrified—

Rayla stood. “I’m going below to get some medical supplies. Finnegrin must have a stash of something that can fix up your face. Not that it needs fixing, it’s still quite handsome, it’s just… well, it looks like it hurts.”

She glanced at Callum, her face hot, but his still countenance didn’t crack. He just nodded.

“…Okay then. I’ll be back in a jiff.”

Rayla squeezed his hands and stood, making her way to the stairs that led belowdecks. She had just reached the first step when Callum’s voice stopped her.

“Below? Wait, no— Rayla!”

She shook her head, continuing down the stairs. “It’s really no trouble,” she called back. “I’m sure I can find something.”

“No— wait!”

It was the desperation in his voice that stopped her, a tone far more agonized than that of someone who just wanted to spare her an inconvenience. Did Finnegrin have more crew members down here she wasn’t aware of? Was Callum afraid she’d see what he used to torture him?

A hiss echoed down the dark hall, and Rayla tensed, grabbing her blades. She squinted in the darkness, trying to make out the source of the noise. Had Finnegrin tortured Callum with some kind of electric eel?

“Rayla,” Callum hissed. “Just— come back up here. Please.”

She shook her head. “I’m not afraid of whatever he’s keeping down here, Callum. Whatever it is, it’s never going to hurt you again.”

Another hiss drew her attention back to the hall. Two slithering figures emerged— were they really eels? No… snakes. Snakes with glowing green eyes.

Familiar eyes.

Rayla cut both their heads off in a single motion and turned to Callum, stumbling back when she realized he’d reached the bottom step. He looked from the bodies to Rayla and opened his mouth, and she tensed instinctively, trying to figure out how to respond to whatever he could possibly say. 

But instead, he burst into tears.

Heaving, open-mouthed sobs wracked his entire body as he sank to the floor, crying in a way she hadn’t seen him cry since he had found out his stepfather was dead. The force of it reopened the cut on his lip, the tears coursing down his cheeks mixing with the blood and falling in pink drops to the floor.

“I— know— I— shouldn’t— have—" he gasped between sobs. “I knew the ocean arcanum, I understood that I— I shouldn’t try to control everything— but you were screaming, and screaming, and then you stopped— and I couldn’t— I couldn’t lose you— and that makes me as bad as them, as Claudia and Viren, I know it does, but I—"

Whatever he was going to say next was drowned out by a round of tears that left him no breath to talk.

Rayla expected to feel the insidious, bone-chilling horror she’d felt the last time she’d seen him do this: rip the life from a magical creature in order to give life to a set of chains. She expected the righteous fury of knowing he’d crossed a line he absolutely shouldn’t have. But none of it came. All she could feel was a heaviness settling over her shoulders, her chest, sinking her to the floor beside her mage with an overwhelming sadness— and gratitude.

I’d do anything for you, he’d told her, and he had proven it. This was a person who loved absolutely, who cared about her so profoundly he would carry a guilt this deep forever for her. And yet— the thought didn’t scare her. It wasn’t the same obsessive love that had consumed Claudia, and as she wrapped her arms around him, she desperately searched her mind for the words to make him believe that.

“Callum,” she murmured as she thought, “I just need you to breathe for me. Nice and slow. Can you do that?”

She felt his nod, and took a deep breath to demonstrate, setting a pointed rhythm until she felt Callum’s chest rise and fall to match it.

“Good. Now.” She let him go to place her hands on his shoulders. “How did Claudia react the first time she did dark magic? Do you remember?”

Callum furrowed his brow, clearly confused about why she was asking, but answered in a small voice. “Well, she was sick for a few days.”

“And then?”

“She was… giddy. I remember her dancing all through the halls of the castle, talking about it to anyone who would listen. She was so happy she could do magic, so proud.”

Rayla nodded. “I thought so. And Viren? Did he ever seem unhappy after doing magic?”

“Not that I can recall.”

Rayla squeezed his shoulders. “But you hate it. Yes, you did it, and it was bad— but there isn’t a single part of you that feels empowered by it. That’s what makes you different than them. All of you have done things for love that you regret— but you never once tried to justify it to me.”

Callum let out a long breath and nodded. His head slumped against his chest for a long moment before he raised it again, finally meeting her eyes.

“Can you forgive me?”

She let go of his shoulders to shove him lightly. “Well, let’s see. You just saved me and all our friends from an evil pirate. We’ve established that you regret using dark magic and never, ever want to use it if you can help it. Beyond that, you risked your life to find a spell to free my parents even though one of them killed your stepfather, you let me live in your castle for weeks, and you forgave me for being stupid enough to walk out of your life for two years.”

Callum managed a small smile, and Rayla cupped his chin in her hand, drawing his head close enough to rest her forehead on his. 

“We’re good, Callum. You’re good. I promise.”

He let out a long exhale, leaning into her touch. “Okay,” he whispered, his voice stronger.

“That being said,” Rayla said, drawing back, “if you want to make it up to me, you can let me patch up your face.”

“I thought you said it was handsome.”

“And imagine how handsome it’ll be when it isn’t covered in blood.” She stood and offered him her hand.

Callum took it without hesitation, allowing her to pull him to his feet, and finally, he gave her a full smile. 

[nalyra-dreaming]

Hey Nalyra,

I wondered if you happened to recall exactly where it is in the books when Louis kills the artist who paints his portrait?

I feel like it must have been in Interview with the Vampire as I remember the description as being in Louis’ voice? I can picture the scene in my mind, but I can’t picture the chronological context of exactly when that was?!

If you can’t remember instinctively, no worries!

Hey dear!!

(Finally found it^^) It is in IWTV indeed, an artist who actually finds Louis (and leads him to his studio) to sketch him:

----

“Out of the mist which had followed the rain, a man was walking towards me. I can remember him as roaming on the landscape of a dream, because the night around me was dark and unreal. The hill might have been anywhere in the world, and the soft lights of Paris were an amorphous shimmering in the fog. And sharp-eyed and drunk, he was walking blindly into the arms of death itself, his pulsing fingers reaching out to touch the very bones of my face.

“I was not crazed yet, not desperate. I might have said to him, ‘Pass by.’ I believe my lips did form the word Armand had given me, ‘Beware.’ Yet I let him slip his bold, drunken arm around my waist; I yielded to his adoring eyes, to the voice that begged to paint me now and spoke of warmth, to the rich, sweet smell of the oils that streaked his loose shirt. I was following him, through Montmartre, and I whispered to him, ‘You are not a member of the dead.’ He was leading me through an overgrown garden, through the sweet, wet grasses, and he was laughing as I said, ‘Alive, alive,’ his hand touching my cheek, stroking my face, clasping finally my chin as he guided me into the light of the low doorway, his reddened face brilliantly illuminated by the oil lamps, the warmth seeping about us as the door closed.

“I saw the great sparkling orbs of his eyes, the tiny red veins that reached for the dark centers, that warm hand burning my cold hunger as he guided me to a chair. And then all around me I saw faces blazing, faces rising in the smoke of the lamps, in the shimmer of the burning stove, a wonderland of colors on canvases surrounding us beneath the small, sloped roof, a blaze of beauty that pulsed and throbbed. ‘Sit down, sit down...’ he said to me, those feverish hands against my chest, clasped by my hands, yet sliding away, my hunger rising in waves.

“And now I saw him at a distance, eyes intent, the palette in his hand, the huge canvas obscuring the arm that moved. And mindless and helpless, I sat there drifting with his paintings, drifting with those adoring eyes, letting it go on and on till Armand’s eyes were gone and Claudia was running down that stone passage with clicking heels away from me, away from me.

“ ‘You are alive...’ I whispered. ‘Bones,’ he answered me. ‘Bones...’ And I saw them in heaps, taken from those shallow graves in New Orleans as they are and put in chambers behind the sepulcher so that another can be laid in that narrow plot. I felt my eyes close; I felt my hunger become agony, my heart crying out for a living heart; and then I felt him moving forward, hands out to right my face—that fatal step, that fatal lurch. A sigh escaped my lips. ‘Save yourself,’ I whispered to him. ‘Beware.’

“And then something happened in the moist radiance of his face, something drained the broken vessels of his fragile skin. He backed away from me, the brush falling from his hands. And I rose over him, feeling my teeth against my lip, feeling my eyes ll

with the colors of his face, my ears ll with his struggling cry, my hands ll with that strong, ghting esh until I drew him up to me, helpless, and tore that esh and had the blood that gave it life. ‘Die,’ I whispered when I held him loose now, his head bowed against my coat, ‘die,’ and felt him struggle to look up at me. And again I drank and again he fought, until at last he slipped, limp and shocked and near to death, on the oor. Yet his eyes did not close.

“I settled before his canvas, weak, at peace, gazing down at him, at his vague, graying eyes, my own hands orid, my skin so luxuriously warm. ‘I am mortal again,’ I whispered to him. ‘I am alive. With your blood I am alive.’ His eyes closed. I sank back against the wall and found myself gazing at my own face.

“A sketch was all he’d done, a series of bold black lines that nevertheless made up my face and shoulders perfectly, and the color was already begun in dabs and splashes: the green of my eyes, the white of my cheek. But the horror, the horror of seeing my expression! For he had captured it perfectly, and there was nothing of horror in it. Those green eyes gazed at me from out of that loosely drawn shape with a mindless innocence, the expressionless wonder of that overpowering craving which he had not understood. Louis of a hundred years ago lost in listening to the sermon of the priest at Mass, lips parted and slack, hair careless, a hand curved in the lap and limp. A mortal Louis. I believe I was laughing, putting my hands to my face and laughing so that the tears nearly rose in my eyes; and when I took my ngers down, there was the stain of the tears, tinged with mortal blood. And already there was begun in me the tingling of the monster that had killed, and would kill again, who was gathering up the painting now and starting to ee with it from the small house.

“When suddenly, up from the oor, the man rose with an animal groan and clutched at my boot, his hands sliding o the leather. With some colossal spirit that deed me, he reached up for the painting and held fast to it with his whitening hands. ‘Give

it back!’ he growled at me. ‘Give it back!’ And we held fast, the two of us, I staring at him and at my own hands that held so easily what he sought so desperately to rescue, as if he would take it to heaven or hell; I the thing that his blood could not make human, he the man that my evil had not overcome. And then, as if I were not myself, I tore the painting loose from him and, wrenching him up to my lips with one arm, gashed his throat in rage.”

----

It's after a discussion with Armand, just before Louis encounters Madeleine.