#I won't tag all the characters though

[iri-desky]

NEW ART CHALLENGE

Draw your favorite wlw ship, your favorite mlm ship, and/or your favorite straight ship in each of these respective, iconic screenshot trios from alien stage.

Preferably, try and make drawings for all three series.

(Also, not required to do the challenge, but please tag me if any of you all do this!)

[firestorm09890]

Y'ALL. Y'ALL so for a long time I've believed that "the sun" in Meursault's story is Carmen, and I went to check Hell's Chicken's dialogue to see exactly how he said that he'd dealt with distortions before, and... you know what else he said?

To my knowledge, it is a phenomenon where an individual morphs into a form often unfit to be considered “human”. It has no known causes, and the appearances were all different.

Unfit to be considered human.

Meursault, who, in his book, was judged by the court to be soulless.

Meursault, who has EGO for Cyborgs who have been so mutilated they barely act like people anymore; a murderer who was experimented on until ceasing to be human; a sheep named after Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?, a novel about the humanity of androids and the inhumanity of humans; and now a rose that can't help its bloodsucking nature, based on Carmilla, a vampire whose story emphasized the duality between her vampiric traits and her human ones.

Meursault, who answered Heathcliff's ironic question of if he had metal for brains like this:

I'm placing my bets now, that line from Hell's Chicken is foreshadowing for Meursault's canto even more than "I have witnessed a number of [distortion] cases in the past" was

[butterflysonnets]

yes i'm rooting for m*leven breakup because byler is neat but mostly? i'm rooting for m*leven breakup for the sake of el and mike.

to me, their romance was always a puppy love born out of a combination of social pressures, naïve curiosity, and a lack of true understanding regarding intimacy and romantic love and what it really is. it was real in that they do truly, deeply care about each other and they are close friends, maybe even shared an attraction, but a maturing romance is so much more than that. they've grown up and out of being boyfriend/girlfriend, and that's okay! i think television/film needs to show more often that most of us don't have definite "soulmates" or first childhood loves that we spend our whole lives with. it doesn't mean these relationships meant nothing and didn't impact us, it just means they've run their course and that something else is in the cards, and this is part of life!

i've always felt el was at her best and most confident self when broken up with mike, discovering who she was and what she liked alongside another girl her age instead of just relying on mike for mentorship on how to live in the real world. she deserves more of an opportunity to find herself, her autonomy, and her independence, and to love who she is, and she's made it clear she's felt insecure in the relationship with mike because she isn't being loved and understood the way she wants, needs, and deserves from someone who is her partner.

also, it's okay if mike doesn't love her in "the way he should". he is not obligated to love her romantically and stay in a relationship with her just because she's a girl, because she "needed someone", or because he cares about her a lot. he shouldn't be pressured into a romance if it's not truly coming from his heart. he deserves freedom to find out and honour who he is, too, instead of just staying in his non-functional first relationship — one he got into as a child, essentially — and defining himself that way because it's what's expected when a boy and a girl are close. he loves her in some way, yes, but it's okay if he doesn't feel comfortable or secure being her boyfriend anymore, for whatever reason that is. he's felt insecure too, and that's valid and it matters.

they are their own people and are steadily growing and changing every day. they need time to figure out who those people are, and it's become clear (at least in my opinion) that those people aren't meant to be a couple at this stage.

they deserve freedom. they deserve to grow up and be authentic to themselves and not feel like they need to lie for the sake of a relationship. they deserve to move on from this version of their relationship that isn't making them happy and rekindle the best part of their bond: their strong, beautiful friendship. they don't have to be a couple if it doesn't make them stronger and better and happier people.

i think it would be healthy and wonderful for a show, especially one consumed frequently by young adults, to show a relationship starting, progressing, and ending on good terms in this way. sometimes things don't work out, and that is okay.

[violinist-rachel]

A Farewell

Hello, hello! It's been a bit since I've made a post like this, and as the title suggests, I'm afraid this update will be a sad one.

Before anything else, I do want to say that I know there's still questions I haven't answered yet, but I promise you I will be answering each and every one of them before the blog comes to a close! However, I will be closing my asks and submissions so that I don't receive anymore moving forward.

Although running this blog has been loads of fun, I don't think I'll be able to continue it for too much longer. It makes me sad to announce this because there was a lot I wanted to do with the story I created for Rachel, but life's just a little too much right now and I just don't see it getting any less hectic in the future for a variety of reasons.

That aside, a giant thank you to everyone who interacted with this blog and read my silly little comics! This has been a fantastic experience and I've learned a lot from maintaining it. Although the chances of me coming back to this blog is very slim, I hope to see you all again some day :]

P.S. If you'd like to read everything in chronological order, you can do so here: Violinist Rachel / #all (tumblr.com)

If the text on this blog's a little too small, I encourage people to use the browser's zoom tool (CTRL + Scroll up/down)!

[ask-the-druggieverse]

How does swap deal with the fatigue? And the heart problems? Is there anything that helps??

- ALT - There's not much I can do but I try to be well rested and I also try to reduce less stress! (Dream helps me with that)

Science assigned me a diet for less sodium and just basically eat healthy. I also have bi-weekly check ups with Doc and get heart meds from Sci

I also live with Ink, Dream, and Error just in case anything happens to me (my uh... my AU I don't really ent- ... nevermind)

INK: We pirated cussing hotel

Ink and Error... aren't really in good condition to help me but at least they don't encourage me to re-lapse (their cooking is really good tho)

SWAP: That's uh... pretty much all I can do SWAP: I kinda fucked myself over with... edibles...

- IDK - Fuck it I'm just using regular font cuz chat font is being difficult with me, also HI SORRY FOR NOT UPDATEING IN A FEW DAYS!!! I recently just got two new guinea pigs and I'm trying to have all of my piggies get along! (uh... it's gonna take a long time because Butters/Pig HATES them... (it's slow progress! she's getting used to Reese right now :3))

MAIN: @inkyu

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[ban--tam]

felt like doodling some logh dogs.. ended up crying laughing every time i look at chihuahua reinhard

[gingermaple]

hi im trying to keep it professional here but may i request you to talk about your thought process/design inspirations behind your Tango? I don't think I've ever loved a Tango more than i love yours

i'm so glad you like him so much!!! he's definitely one of my favourites to draw :D

most of my mcyt designs follow a similar pipeline, where i create a first design that is simple; based on the skin, my impression, and common fanon ideas. then later down the line i throw all of that out the window and shoot them with my patented Creature Gun.

so originally, tango was just A Guy. (see this post for an idea of how he looked) until i woke up one day and decided that he needed to become an absolute fucking critter.

i went into my very first draft of a new design with a few basic ideas that i wanted to follow:

Generally small, but have his clothing/accessories be big

Have the red glasses be a major design element

Be some form of lil critter with a tail, paws, and big ears

Be as shape as possible (this was the most important aspect to me)

Here was my very first pass with those concepts in mind:

More under the cut:

the first thing i realised was that i accidentally inverted the red and black on his outfit, the second thing was that he had come out looking somewhat rodent-like, so i decided to build upon that idea in my second draft, as well as further exaggerating his glasses and proportions:

i liked this much better, but decided he still wasn't shape enough, so after even more stylization, i eventually got to a point where i was happy, and we ended up with the critter of all time!

along the way, i also ended up with a rough idea for what he even was, that being a hybrid of my own made up rodent-adjacent mob that would live in the nether. which i ended up sharing an idea for in this post, thought i'll probably expand further upon the idea in the future.

overall i am insanely happy with how his design turned out, and i'm overjoyed that other people feel the same!

please never hesitate to ask me about my designs/my design process! i have so many thoughts that i'd love to share and a lot of the more fully fleshed out designs have a good amount of concept art that likely won't be seen outside of these sorts of asks.

[lupins-hehim-pussy]

I wanna know ur Fontaine msq criticisms 👁️👁️👂I’m all ears

I'm not sure if you wanted me to talk about this secretly or publicly but! Here I go!

The TLDR: Fontaine MSQ aestheticised prison, poverty, child abuse, the justice system/court and didn't properly address any of it.

More:

Focalors/Furina has way too much of a sympathetic angle for a dictator who's lets people drown with her inaction.

Neuvillette feels Bad for sentencing some people to death/prison, but that's it. He's one of the most powerful people in Fontaine. If he felt like there are systemic injustices, I.E sending an abused Child to prison, he should be the first person to DO something about it, not just cry and be sad so the audience can be like aw, that's complex character writing isn't it? No it's not! And guilt doesn't absolve you!!!!!!! (These are stuff we deal with in OTCOJ read my fic now /j)

Meropide has children in it, both Sentenced there (Wriothesley) and BORN THERE (Lanoire), and this is just a quirk of the place. Not only that, Meropide accepts prisoners of all genders and crimes. There are abusers and abuse victims in one place. Do you know how bad that is? How much potential for crimes to happen in a place like that— oh wait, Meropide isn't under Fontaine's jurisdiction. If you are assaulted as an inmate it literally means nothing to the court.

Wriothesley had no qualifications when he took over. Depending on how long he lived on the streets, how old he was when he killed his parents, how old he was when he was first taken in by the orphanage, etc, the man might never have more than 4–5 years of formal education. Sigewinne probably had to teach him how to write reports. And do Meropide's spreadsheets. Edit because I forgot to elaborate on this one: This isn't a point brought up anywhere, which is bad, because when poverty and incarceration robs you of a proper education (and the rights to vote in many places too, too, by the way), it reduces your prospects for jobs, reduces many people's ability to get a home etc etc. Wriothesley was just, narratively, Given his position.

Meropide is an industrialized prison, and they portray this as a good thing. Prisoners are paid in coupons for their labour, and this is also portrayed as a good thing.

The One-Meal-A-Day reform was something Paimon gushed about being so great of a perk, that people might want to go to jail for food (could be interesting and reflective of systemic poverty if MHY had brains, but they don't, so I was just Pissed because essentially all Paimon wanted to say was "Prison isn't so bad, but still don't go to prison guys! Prison labour is really hard!"). By the way, in most real-world prisons they are obligated to feed you three meals a day. Because that's how much food a human needs. MHY went with one meal just so they can say "if you want to eat more, you have to work." And then the welfare meal is a goddamn gacha. So imagine you're a starving child who's too weak to work in the fucking robot assembly line, and you wander up for your first meal in 24 hours, only to luck in with a shit one. I'd kill myself.

They wrote Wriothesley, who's a victim of the system, into a guy who's say shit like "I'm the Duke I can do whatever I want" for a cool moment where he choke-slams an inmate (I know he was a bad guy. But also, in copaganda when cops are violent/disregarding protocols, they are always only portrayed to do that against bad guys, so what does our critical thinking tells us about this one?) They wrote Wriothesley, who was an inmate of a prison so bad, so notorious that it is the literal boogeyman of Fontaine, that has a legal (???) fighting pit, with an administrator who abuses his position to be unreasonable, to willingly stay in the place and become an Administrator who would choke-slam an inmate while saying a cool line about how he has the power to do whatever he wants. They wrote him, the guy who had to be fed on the streets by melusines, to think one-meal-a-day was a good enough reform (while he spends god-knows how much on his boat). This wasn't a victim-turns-into-abuser narrative either, they want all this to be seen as positive character growth.

And then, the final kicker is, they gloss over his entire abuse. You can only read about these shit in his profile, which most people don't because they don't Have Him or doesn't care to unlock it/read it online, and they jammed his entire backstory into a flaccid info-dump at the end of his character story quest. This man isn't Allowed to feel abused and neglected and show any reaction to it within the narrative of Fontaine itself, because if they actually Gave Weight to what happened to him, they'd have to confront THE FUCKING JUSTICE SYSTEM they had NO PLANS on criticising. I don't think they ever explicitly said the fucking Crime-Theatre nonsense was Bad either.

I could go on, but this is already so long. But yeah, I hope this gave you an idea.

[silverware-is-interesting]

i thought i was really doing something i guess

i've drawn winfrey once in my sketchbook without a reference and i don't know when i'll actually draw them digitally

and those jack drawings are some of te first times i've ever drawn them

that other post was my first time drawing simon, the flock and klaus though

[the-spooky-children]

Can't stop thinking about unhealthy co-dependent teen!fireskulls..

[leezuhh]

sunshine court no context

[badgirlcoven-official]

"Willow is a bad character because she's a mary sue" me when I missed the entire point of the show

[fennthetalkingdog]

I planned to do my physics homework today. But instead! I've been drawing for literal HOURS of my life!! 😒 I blame you @atlas-hope for getting me in a drawing mood in the first place

Oh, and the character uses he/him btw

[lovers-instead]

Sapphic YA Book Rec: Good Moon Rising by Nancy Garden

1996 follow-up to Annie on My Mind, this time featuring 2 girls who compete for the lead role in their high school theater department.

Links to download:

Internet Archive (to borrow)

Anna's Archive

LibGen

[ominous-faechild]

✦ OC Questionnaire Tag 3 ✦

Following tag from @honeybewrites !

Featuring characters from Sun and Shadow: Freya, Crow, Daleira, Valyarus, Soren, and Grimnir! As well as a surprise visit from someone else...

Notes: Valyarus is Daleira's adopted dad, Lynsmouth nobility, and a faerie; Soren is Freya's dad, strongly hinted to be ageless, and worked as a sailor; and Grimnir is Crow's dad, the famous criminal detective of Lynsmouth, and known to work under an alias and masks to hide his identity.

Featured Questions (not all characters will answer): - "Sun or moon?" - "Would you rather drown or be buried alive?" - "How many people have you killed?" from @the-golden-comet - "Do you believe in fate?" kidnapped from the-golden-comet's post

"Sun or moon?"

Freya, the MC of Sun and Shadow who's explicitly sun-coded: Freya: Well... even before I found out about the whole "my dad gave me a magic restraint from a really young age without telling me and I actually have magic" thing... I'd always liked being out in the sun. I'd feel more refreshed, energized. I thought it was just normal, yknow? Like, who doesn't like being out in the sun? But apparently it's A Normal Magic Thing™ to feel better in your element? Even though I felt awful for a while without the restraint... apparently that's something called "magical sickness" from having too much uncontrolled essence? That's what Daleira said at least... I don't know. Regardless, um, sun, obviously, haha. 😅

Crow, the "shadow" of Sun and Shadow: Crow: Moon. The daytime is too bright and it's a lot harder to blend in. I mean--(*pointedly wiggles the sunglasses they're always wearing*)--I need these to be able to actually see thanks to my damned curse and how bright everything is. Then, like, I need to stick to the shadows at day because I just feel worse under sunlight, you know? So, yeah. Moon, easily.

Daleira, the OTHER, secret "shadow": Daleira: Sun! (gotcha 😉) It's thanks to the sun's energy that our world goes round--well, metaphorically speaking--and it would be almost unrecognizable if the sun didn't exist! 😊 Well, I mean, now that I say that... I guess the same applies to the moon, huh? Like, it's thanks to it that we have the tides and-- (*continues rambling about Science*) --wait what was the question again? Oh, right! "Sun or moon?" I would probably still pick sun, haha! 😊

Valyarus: This is an odd question. I would dare to say sun. Nights tend to be much more dangerous, both in the Faewildes and in this world. Criminals adoring the darkness and all, yes? Besides that, I am also weaker at night. So that should be an easy answer for me, no?

Soren: I'm brought back from the dead and/or a potentially disastrous situation in order to answer arbitrary questions? (*heavy sarcasm*) Interesting. How kind of our all-powerful gods to give me this opportunity. (Look do you want this break or not?) ... fine. Yes. (*Clears throat*) My wife and children all had sun- and light-allegiances. I feel that should speak for itself. However... as a seaman, the stars have always been my best friend, and it would be a nightmare to navigate without them. In spite of that, if you told me to choose between my daughter and the night, I would choose my daughter in a heartbeat. Happy? (*he asks, glaring at the camerawoman* Very, great job, Soren! 😉 *he scoffs*)

"Would you rather drown or be buried alive?"

Freya, who in the first chapter of SaS got traumatized by nearly dying in a shipwreck: Freya: Be buried alive. Next question, please and thank you.

Crow: Easy! I'd choose to be buried alive! Being encased in a coffin--or even just dirt--would surround me in shadows and I could just teleport out through them, ha! Daleira: Crow, you're supposed to take this at face value. There's no way getting out. If you had to die either way, which would you pick? Crow: (*scowling*) But that doesn't make sense! I could just teleport out! Daleira: Yeah, well that's not the point! It's supposed to, like, find out your personality and stuff! Which you'd, uh... consider to be the least painful death?... hm, that's actually really dark when you think about it... Crow: Exactly! Besides, it doesn't say I have to die through it! Just drown or "be buried alive"--not that I die in the process! (*smug birb.png*) Daleira: Um... actually, "drown" does imply death. Crow: Wait, what? Daleira: It's in the definition! "Drown: verb; to die through submersion in and inhalation of water!" Crow: ... and why do you have the exact definition of "drown" memorized? And where did you get it??? Do you have a dictionary lying around somewhere in your workshop??? Daleira: (*flushed*) Just--answer the question! Crow: I still pick being buried alive. It doesn't mean I can't escape alive, sweetheart. 😘 Daleira: (*groans and puts her face in her hands*)

Daleira: Unlike Crow, I'm actually going to answer this question as intended. 😒 While both are deeply unpleasant ways to die, I'd probably choose to drown just because it's quicker than suffocating in a coffin... or loose dirt. (*shudders*)

Valyarus: (*pleasantly; if not a bit smugly*) I could and would do neither. As a faerie, I could simply teleport out of either situation. Daleira: 😒😒😒 Daleira: (*takes a slow, deep breath... unlike someone in the situations posed in this question!*) Dad, the point of the question is "imagine you don't have any other choice". Like, if you had to pick one, which would you pick? Valyarus: (*quizzical look*) Well that's just incredibly dark, isn't it? Who would pose such a question? Daleira: (*exasperated, throws up her hands*) I don't know! Could you please just answer it, Dad??? Valyarus: (*gives a long, drawn-out sigh... also unlike someone in the situations posed in this question!*) If you insist, dear. I suppose... I would choose being buried alive. In your hypothetical situation, unaware that I was completely doomed, I would likely choose it knowing it took longer and spend a majority of the time I had trying to figure out a way out... only to die. Valyarus: But, Dally, you are aware that even if our bodies die, we do not, yes? Daleira: 😃 (*internal screaming*)

Soren: (*completely unaware of the events of the first chapter of SaS in this case--*) I would choose the sea--or, drowning, that is. I was born by the ocean, was made by the ocean, and lived through the ocean. I see no better way to die. Or a more fitting one.

Grimnir: In those cases, I'd assume I'd be being assassinated by some of my enemies... and so they're planning for it to be as painful as possible. In which case, it would likely look like this: my to-be killers choose to drown me. They repeatedly dunk and pull my head out at intervals maximized for suffering, but just barely below the time my body would force me to inhale. Ideally, none of them would have control over water magic, or they could simply let me breathe it in and draw it from my lungs. Which would likely be doubly as unpleasant as traditional water inhalation. Regardless--they would repeat this process until I finally suffocated or they got bored. And then they would kill me. Alternatively, my captors could've chosen to kill me through burying me alive. In that case, they'd do so without a coffin. That way, I'd be suffocating, buried within whatever material they thought would make me suffer most. Due to the phrasing of this question, I would assume it could not be anything inherently dangerous, otherwise I would die of exsanguination, poisoning, or whatever else. No, instead, I'd suffocate. In this case, it's unlikely my captors could interrupt or pace out my murder--unless they periodically buried, unearthed, and re-buried me, which simply seems like more effort than it's worth and comes with risk of a coma instead. Between the two situations, I would choose to be buried alive. Though, I hope you aren't intending on trying anything... I may be a detective, but I have a lot more tricks up my sleeve.

"How many people have you killed?"

Freya: Nobody??? What???

Crow: What do you mean? I'm a detective, not a murderer! Obviously I haven't killed anyone!

Daleira: (*voice uncharacteristically quiet*) It... depends on what you count as a "person." And... whether you're counting accidents... which you probably are. Regardless?... a lot.

Valyarus: I have killed very, very few people. If they even counted as "people" by the time I killed them is a better question. But... if you consider the fact that I, myself, am not human, and that those of us in my position call all of us sentient beings "people"... then I have killed very, very many people. That's why I'm in the position I am today. I am very powerful. And, sometimes, death is necessary to protect those looking up to you as a leader.

It's been a bit since Elvalen has joined Lynsmouth, though. I think I've gotten a bit rusty. 😄

(note: Valyarus has accidentally killed a lot more people in a similar manner to Daleira, but is not counting them due to it being "part of a faerie's nature", unintentional, and frankly unavoidable to an extent. Up his perceived creepiness/danger level as you deem necessary.)

Soren: Depends who's asking. If this has any possibility of reaching my daughter, none whatsoever. Otherwise... more than I wish. But being what I am, death is sometimes inevitable. Other times, it's simply the only correct choice. Would you rather leave a monster alive, or kill it where it stands to save its victims, both present and future? I think there's only one right answer there, and I have a number of people who'd thank me for it. ... even if my daughter would not.

Grimnir: Depends on what you mean by "killed". Does it count to put them in prison, knowing people can and might target them there? If so: I don't know. Definitely more than I can count. Otherwise... only a few. And only when necessary, in self-defense.

"Do you believe in fate?"

Freya: You mean the idea that our lives are predetermined from the beginning, that our decisions are set in stone before we're born, and that nothing we can do will ever change that? Of course not. And even if it did, I'd assume magic itself would interfere with how Fate wanted to make things.

Crow: I'm... not sure. I've never thought of it before to be honest. I'd guess there's probably some god out there capable of it?... though if you think of it that way, wouldn't all gods be Fate in one way or another? Like, they're all always just... sitting in their godly domains or something, watching us, seeing everything and making decisions off of it right? So from our point of view, wouldn't that make them the puppeteers of our fates? So I'd say it depends on what you consider "fate" to be. Is it an active force keeping things to a certain "timeline" or set of events? In which case I'd say no. Or is it a set of actions carried out by beings that can see so much more than we do, that are capable of comprehending things that we can't, and actively try enforcing their wills on us? In which case... I'd say yes.

Daleira: Fate? Like "things are destined to happen a certain way"? I wouldn't know! Haha, there's so many things in this world that it's impossible to know! Like, there's billions of lifeforms breathing, existing!, making decisions all at once! Could there possibly be a reason behind it, some sort of consciousness pulling everything in a certain direction to make sure different events come true? Possibly!

... what do I think of that?... hm. That's a great question. I... don't know honestly. I like the concept of free will, would like to think we all have complete control of our lives and where they go... but that just isn't realistic! Even if fate didn't exist, our lives are all still pushed and pulled in every direction by those of the people around us. And by nature! The world constantly throws things at us, and all we're able to do is react to it! Even if we make our own decisions, they're based on our life experiences and the examples we've seen of others... so it's impossible to say "free will" truly exists, either.

Valyarus: Fate? (*snickers*) Which kind of "Fate", the idea that Grand Destinies follow people, that some people are destined to come together and "complete" one another", or something... Or the cold and merciless goddess known for doing whatever it takes to achieve her goals?

Don't misunderstand me--most gods are "cold, cruel, merciless" and all those good things. But I've heard special things of Fate. She sees everything that has happened, everything that is happening, and everything that will happen at all times. She's able to make decisions with more information than anyone else. She's been able to plan out her actions and puppeteer everyone else from the very beginning of time. She's known for acting irrationally, having her son carry out the most out of place things... for what? What cause? What purpose? We don't know. We can't. What we do know is that she's willing to do anything. She and her son--acting on her behalf as all avatars do--have done some things even the other gods wouldn't dare do. Although, I don't think it's for a lack of willingness so much as it would otherwise get in the way of their goals to actively commit atrocities.

Regardless, oh--I do believe Fate exists. It's very hard not to when you've spoken to her son firsthand and he responds to you before you can even speak. I wouldn't recommend it, by the way. I've met some very disturbing creatures before, but he was... different.

Quinn: Well, that's just rude. Valyarus: Quinn: After I helped you and everything. Valyarus: How... how did you get in here? Quinn: Not telling. 😉 Want to apologize? Valyarus: Valyarus: (*indignant!*) I see no reason to. Quinn: Of course. No problem, then. Just... be careful around birds. Valyarus: (*silent, confused panic???*)

Soren: I believe Fate exists, yes. Whether or not that's a good thing depends on the day... and if you're in her way. Thankfully, it does not seem like I've done anything to cross her... at least, not for a very long time.

Grimnir: (*deadpan*) I would assume so. Otherwise, I'd worry who I gave my eyes to.

Your questions: - What would you do if you watched a starving child steal something expensive without anyone else noticing? - If you could go back in time and say anything to your younger self, what would you say? - What would you sell your soul for? (Metaphorically speaking, doesn't have to be literal. In other words: "What is the most important thing to you, that you would do anything for?")

Tagging (with no pressure) @darkandstormydolls @yourpenpaldee @.honeybewrites @fantasy-things-and-such @themboty @the-letterbox-archives and whoever else wants to join!

Divider from @cafekitsune

[edupunkn00b]

Just Like Magic, Chapter 9: Find

Prev - Find - Next - Masterpost - [ AO3 ]

From Chapter 8: Seek

A twig snapped behind them and they both turned. In the path forged by their footsteps lay a long branch from the tree, as thick around as the boy’s arm and taller than Logan. “That wasn’t there—” Logan began, looking back at the child. The boy was gone. “Hello?” he called, belatedly realizing he did not even know the child’s name. “Whe—where did you go?” It’s yours… the wind answered back.

A blacksmith’s hammer clanged, punctuated by a distant gate's slam, cracking the forest’s hush. Janus crept closer to the edge of the woods and peered between the branches of a twisted fir. The stench of burning nearly overpowered him.

Nothing remained of Logan’s old house. Save for the scattered, charred stones of his hearth and chimney and something that might have once been a window ledge, there was little evidence a house had once stood in its place. Acrid smoke drifted up from the embers of his roof, the sticky tar that had held together the mis-matched thatch work still giving off heat.

Cassian and his brute squad must’ve set the fire after they’d woken from Janus’ spell and discovered Logan had escaped. The stonework was stained with oil, likely an accelerant. The blaze must’ve been incredible. Stretching out from Logan’s house at least a dozen feet, soot mixed with snow. But the border of ashy black around the home was sharp as it neared the woods, and the trees even at the edge closest to the fire remained healthy and untouched.

Stroking the nearest branch with a chant for continued health and a whispered thanks for its protection, Janus stepped clear of the forest, each footstep quieter than the last.

But he wasn’t quiet enough.

“Done already with the aborrito?” A woman’s voice creaked from just beyond the rubble. Hands and skirts black with soot, she’d been crouched in the ruins of what had once been Logan’s home, picking through for anything of value. “Or was it too old for you to fully corrupt?”

“I assure you, madam,” Janus inclined his head and stood with one arm outstretched, palm up and empty. Even in what he hoped was a non-threatening pose, he kept his staff planted in the earth. “I have done Logan no harm.” A fire that rivaled the one they’d set sparked in his chest and he could not stop his tongue. “Which is more than I can say for the harm this village has done to him. He will not return to you.”

She spat—loudly—at his feet. “Your kind can keep the aborrito just like you’ve kept all the others.”

Ignoring her ill-mannered expectorate, Janus stared, heart pounding in his ears.

There are no mages in the South.

“Others?” He repeated. “What ‘others?’”

Eyes narrowed, the old woman tapped her forehead, then her chest in that befouled Southern curse. “My little boys. And the miller’s daughter a few years after them. The Dark Wood’s took ‘em all. The aborrito hid what it was for a long, long time.” She gazed past his shoulder, nodding.

Too late, Janus realized he’d let himself become distracted. Shuffled steps and cracked knuckles announced the presence of a crowd behind them.

“Still, it managed to lead you here. One more bit of demonic filth for us to scour from the good earth.”

Janus let his other hand fall as he turned, raising his staff. Bearing sharpened metal and blunt farm tools, the men who’d gathered at Logan’s door circled him. Janus dug his heels into the ground and inhaled slowly, pulling in latent energy from the earth. “Go home,” he said, eyes flicking over the crowd before landing on Cassian. “You’re not going to get what you want out of this.”

“Oooh, is that a threat?” Cassian said, laughing. He turned to the lackey at his side, the one who’d rebuked Logan last night. “Did this little mage threaten me?” He grinned, hard and cold as the blade in his hand.

Energy coursed through Janus’ veins and he tightened his grip on his staff. The air crackled around him and those closest shuffled back. “You do not want this fight, Cassian.”

“Cowards!” he snapped at the more cautious among his men. Still, his voice held a quaver he couldn’t quite disguise. “Don’t let the wizard’s tricks scare you. This one’s already been sentenced to the sulfur and the fire.”

Janus held firm. A frightened brute could be more dangerous than a truly brave one.  He watched as the men grew strength from each other. It was only then Cassian lunged forward, drawn blade held low.

Sweeping the ground with his staff, Janus side-stepped the charge. With a bang, blinding sparks leapt up from the earth.The three men closest to him fell, hands over their faces muffling their cries.

Cassian hesitated, turning the blade in his hand. Janus watched wisdom and bravado war in his eyes.

Bravado won. “I’ll have your head for that!” he spat.

“Come and take it, then.”

Cassian ran at him but Janus was faster. More weapon than tool, he flipped his staff up, catching behind Cassian’s left foot. He dropped to the ground, hard. The lackey jumped at Janus next, followed by another few of his crew.

Chanting, Janus drove his staff into the soil. Fire shot up around him, catching two of the men. The rest backed off. But not Cassian.

He pushed up to his feet, favoring one leg. “I was going to let you die quickly,” he growled, eying the flaming ground. “You won’t be so lucky now.”

“Neither will you,” Janus muttered, then raised his staff over his head. He chanted, drawing up energy from the dirt and roots beneath his feet, from the sun and the stars above and beyond their reach. His circle of fire leapt into the sky, licking at the few men still standing.

The fine fur lining Cassian’s boots caught fire and he howled. He and two of his friends kicked dirt at them, smothering the flames. Janus used the moment of inattention to slam his staff back into the ground. Fire and smoke shot out.

And Cassian fell.

The lackey dragged him away before the flames could consume him. Janus watched their retreat then let the flames die.

“You fear the wrong fires,” Janus Called out for the entire village, feet rooted. “I will raze this town if any other mages in your midst come to harm.”

The magic of his Call roused the injured, including Cassian. He met each of their eyes in turn, then spun on the spot, scanning the distance. Aside from the woods, his was the only magic as far as he could see.

He grieved the loss of the three souls this village had deemed mages and the countless more slaughtered before them. And though he could do nothing about the past, Janus would damn himself before he let another be harmed by their hand.

“I shall take my leave but you will see me again,” he promised, then turned back toward the forest. The crowd, once glowering around with clenched fists, shrunk from him, leaving Janus a clear path. Cassian’s lackey tugged at his arm, pulling him away. But as he bent to draw Cassian back, the man’s dagger fell.

With a roar, Cassian scooped it up and flung it toward the woods.

Magic and energies spent from the fires and his Call, Janus was too slow to stop the blade before it plunged into his flesh.

Slow, but not powerless. Muttering a spell to try to staunch the bleeding, he pulled out the dagger and turned. Eyes closed, he whispered to the blade, “Versus, rectus, volare.” ( Fly true, fly straight, fly now. ) He released the blade and it shot back out from between the trees. The mens’ cries and Cassian’s burbled final sounds told him the blade had found its mark.

Leaning heavily on his staff, Janus pressed hard against the new wound above his hip. Blood already soaked through his woolen tunic and down to his boots. He followed the sound of the melting creek and limped back to camp as a soft snow began to fall.

~

Tiny sparkling flakes flitted down between the trees, giving the mahoe bough an impossibly bright glow. Logan stepped closer and bent to pick it up. The wood gleamed in his grip, bright blue light—the color of the luminarium he’d sent last night—spilled out from beneath his hands.

It’s yours, the wind whispered again. More than a single voice this time.

Tearing his eyes from the bough that would become his staff, he scanned the forest. He could see no-one but he didn’t feel alone. “Thank you,” he answered aloud. “My name is Logan,” he added, then waited, hopeful. For what, he wasn’t entirely sure.

Cursing his own foolishness, he started back when happy laughter wrapped around him. We know.

As he hiked back to their campsite, the snow grew heavier, enough reaching through the thick branches to begin to coat the meagre path in front of him. With a chuckle, he nodded and, holding the bough in one hand, tread carefully through the underbrush to retrace his steps back to camp to show Janus what he’d found.

What he’d been given.

He hadn’t simply hallucinated the child, had he? Other than the vague sense of company as he'd walked, he had no evidence he’d actually encountered a small child impossibly alone and unafraid in the Dark Woods. A child impossibly familiar.

Logan shook his head. That’s all this was. He himself had been anxious treading so deep into a woods he’d spent most of his life hearing was inhabited by evil. He’d simply imagined someone so very similar to his old friends as a crutch for his fragile courage. That explained the familiarity in his laughter, explained the ease Logan had felt in the child's presence. The child's pretend presence.

Cheeks burning at how easily he’d fooled himself, Logan walked a little faster, the crackle of ice in the creek guiding him back to his teacher. The wind picked up and a fresh burst of snow cut between the trees. He clung to Janus’ cloak, grateful for its crafting—both the sturdy weave and the magic surely stitched within.

As he neared the bend in the creek that meant their little camp wasn’t far, he hefted up an armful of dried fir branches. Without his cloak to warm him, Janus no doubt was keeping the fires brightly lit. Logan intended to return with more warmth than he’d taken with him on his search for a staff.

Blanketed by clouds thick and heavy with snow, the sky had darkened and Logan kept his eyes up, seeking out the glimmer of flames that would mean camp was near. But the horizon remained dim and it wasn’t until he’d stumbled into their little clearing that he noticed their fire had gone out.

And just beyond the cold fire circle, his earlier vision came to life. Janus, sprawled face down on the ground, tunic and pants stained in rusty red.