#I write a lot of fantasy stuff

[jonsnowunemploymentera]

And remember kids, the next time someone tells you, "George R. R. Martin wouldn't make Jon Snow the typical fantasy hero because that's cliche".....

Oh yes he would!

One viewer wants to know what character would you play (on the show)? GRRM: If I could magically clap my hands and become a different person, it would be cool to play Jon Snow who's much more of the classic hero. Everybody wants to be the classic hero! ABC Interview, 2014

GRRM: And the character I’d want to be? Well who wouldn’t want to be Jon Snow — the brooding, Byronic, romantic hero whom all the girls love. Meduza Interview, 2017

In fact he already has ☺️

[shady-tavern]

Winter Star

Some children were born touched by nature, carrying the warmth of the sun, the brightness of spring and the gentle patience of the earth. They were rare, but everyone knew their stories and knew how wonderful they had been. 

They knew about the girl touched by summer, who had been taken by a fae woman, the Stag Queen. There was the boy of autumn, who the stars had lured away, never to be seen again and a handful of others, whose fates had been the same.

One day, a girl came into this world with hair as white as snow, lashes like frost and skin as pale as the moon she was born beneath. Everyone who laid eyes on the babe knew immediately she was one of those special ones, beautiful as flowers in the middle of winter and as elegant as drifting snowflakes on cold winds.

Her parents worked hard to keep her safe and raise her to be kind and clever, spending much of their hard earned coin to dress her well and see her educated, knowing a great future would await her. So long as no one took her. 

They warned her of the dangers of the world as she grew older, to mistrust strangers and duck out of sight should someone peer at their humble home. However, not even their best attempts to shield her from the world could stop the spreading rumors.

"She is as lovely as snow in the sun," the baker would tell anyone who'd visit his shop, proud of the special girl that grew up down the street of their cozy village.

"Do you know these wonderful early mornings where the light looks gold and pink and everything is so so beautiful it steals your breath away?" the cobbler would sigh dreamily to everyone who'd listen to her. "That's how it feels to look at her."

Soon people came to see the girl touched by winter, the one who was rumored to walk as though she was floating and she was said to possess such graceful manners it would make royalty turn green with envy.

People started to grace the steps of their home in growing numbers with gifts and sweet words carried on silver tongues. Hopeful fathers with curious and often infatuated sons, merchants who donned their finery in hopes of looking more enticing. The parents refused them all, citing that their daughter was still too young to chose.

It became a sort of contest amongst the curious and hopeful, to try and glimpse even a hair of the rumored maiden. Those who did manage to see her for just a moment left smiling dreamily and spreading ever more rumors.

The girl soon grew into a young woman and now her suitors were no longer just merchants and local business owners. Now she received letters and gifts from wealthy traders and even nobles.

One day, a messenger of the prince of their lands stood at their door, offering a chest of jewels and a richly embroidered dress deserving of a future queen. The young woman refused him gently and with kind words, as she had refused all other gifts.

Shortly afterwards, a holy knight asked for a moment of her time, offering his blessed castle to guard her from all evil and unbreakable vows of devotion. She gently and kindly refused him as well. 

He vowed to win her heart and return with better offers just as the prince did, who would not give up so easily, soon sending another messenger.

She refused their gifts of riches and protection anew with a kind word, while her parents debated. Her mother, ever worried about her safety and wanting the best possible future, grew fond of the idea that her daughter might become a princess. One day even a queen. This would certainly be a dream come true for any parent.

Her father, pious and ever concerned about the magical dangers of the world, was particularly fond of the holy knight. He was rather taken with the idea that his daughter might one day live in a place no evil could reach while also receiving enough money to be comfortable.

"The prince is said to be a handsome, well mannered young man," her mother said while they baked for the harvest festival, autumn coloring the landscape outside. Winter was approaching and whenever it did their daughter seemed to grow all the more beautiful for it. "He would be good to you."

"The knight is strong and well versed in the dangers of the world," her father countered that evening, as he whittled and she embroidered the hem of a new dress with fine, delicate stitches. "He would keep you safe."

Soon the gifts changed from material goods to whatever strange and magical things her suitors could find. They hadn't given up on her yet, on winning the Winter Bride, as they started to call her.

"This owl loses gems whenever it shakes its wings," the prince's messenger said with a proud flush to his cheeks, as though he was courting the young woman himself, not his prince. The owl was a gorgeous animal, as frost colored as the young woman herself, housed in a small cage made of pure gold.

"His Highness says you may keep it," the messenger held the cage out, nose and forehead bitten red from the cold that had settled over the land. "So you may think of him whenever you look at it and your heart may grow as fond as his has grown of you."

The young woman accepted the cage with soft words and the messenger left grinning from ear to ear. Her parents were delighted, chattering about such a special gift while their daughter took the owl out the kitchen door to the backyard.

While her parents were busy discussing the merits of her becoming a princess, she opened the door of the cage and carefully helped the owl out.

"That's better, isn't it," she said softly as she watched the owl fluff up and shake its body in relief, gems falling from between its feathered wings. It turned its head to watch her for a long moment and she held her arm a little higher, uncaring that the talons of the owl left bleeding scratches along her arm.

"Go, if you wish," she told it with a smile as light as fresh snow. "Be free."

The owl gave her a regal nod and took off, disappearing swiftly. The young woman smiled, her heart glad and she returned inside to find her parents dismayed. They couldn't stay angry for long, however, sighing after scolding her for wasting such a precious gift. 

Her father muttered afterwards that maybe the prince didn't know what a woman's heart truly wanted. Her mother, fiddling with the wool she was knitting socks out of, countered that he would find something to win their daughter's heart soon.

The holy knight arrived the next day with a cage woven out of brambles and he presented her with a snow-white fox with eyes of molten gold.

"This one will warn you of dangers and tell you if you are in the presence of evil minds," the knight offered, bowing deep as he held out the cage. "This is a mere gift, no strings attached. May it protect you in my absence and may you find you desire my presence instead one day."

The young woman took hold of the cage and as the knight left, her parents cheerfully discussed weaving a leash for the fox and where to keep it. Her father was nearly dancing with joy as he praised the knight for his thoughtfulness and what this in turn promised for their daughter's future.

The young woman smiled and left them to it, taking the fox out to the backyard. She ignored the way the brambles scratched up her hands as she unmade part of the cage and let the fox jump out, it's snout bloody from trying to bite its way to freedom.

"Go, if you wish," she told it with a smile as lovely as frost flowers. "Be free."

The fox bowed its head in gratitude and ran, swifter than any mere animal and it was soon gone with long strides that looked as though its body weighed no more than a feather. The young woman returned inside and once more her parents were quite upset at having lost such a precious gift.

They couldn't stay angry for long again however, and sighed. Her mother suggested the knight might need to choose his next gift more smartly, while her father grumbled that there must be something out in the world their daughter wanted.

"You must choose who to marry one day," her father told her gently, as though he could soften the order into a plea. "You must stay safe. I'm sure you'll chose well when the time comes."

He cast a significant look to the holy symbol over their hearth, while her mother nodded, tipping her head tellingly towards the small pouch holding the gems the owl had dropped.

The next day, after a night of the season's first snowfall, the young woman woke to find frost covering her windows entirely. It looked as though the snow had piled up all the way to the roof outside.

"I thank you," an ice wind whispered when she opened the windows to peer outside, a thick blanket of snow covering everything. "You returned my dearest friends to me after they were taken when I wasn't there. Two wishes I grant you for saving their lives, use them well."

She felt the magic settle over her as the wind finished blowing past and she couldn't help but peer out into the winter wonderland, as though she could catch a glimpse of whoever had spoken to her. It must have snowed very thickly that night to create that much snow, a quite unusual thing.

Seeing nothing and no one, she rubbed the frost off of the windows and went about her day, two wishes cradled close to her heart. They felt like a refreshing coolness within her, the way a bath in the river was revitalizing during hot summer days.

As winter settled over the land like a content cat in front of the fireplace, she received more gifts. A nightingale who sang so sweetly it made listeners cry, a white hare with fur so fine it was considered the softest in the world. She let each of them go and every time she opened a cage, she felt a change in the winds.

They grew colder each time that presence was back, the one she had felt during the first day of winter.

"Why do you not ask for anything?" the ice wind wondered one day after she unbridled a unicorn the holy knight had captured for her. It paused just long enough to press its velvet-soft nose against her cheek, thanking her silently, then it took off, trailing whispers of magic behind it. "Why not keep the wondrous ones you are offered so freely?"

"Would you like a cage?" she asked in return, watching in quiet awe as the unicorn disappeared. "Would you enjoy a leash or collar, to be bound to the whims and wills of those who hold you in their hands?"

"No," the wind answered in a solemn tone. "You are wise and kind, not many would do as you do."

Maybe, maybe not. She had no way of knowing, having never left the village. All she knew about the world were the things she had read in books she had managed to sneak away and what other people had told her. 

She had found, however, that people tended to paint the world dark and evil whenever she listened, to warn her of its many dangers. To ensure she would not set a single foot into the forest, to ensure she would not walk beyond the village border, to ensure she would not chat with strangers the villagers hadn't vetted. 

She still vividly remembered how panicked and worried her parents had been. How they had cried bitter tears when she had fallen asleep in their neighbor's hayloft, reading a book of fairy tales, and they hadn't been able to find her for hours. 

"Good wind," she spoke up. "Might I bother you to tell me about the world? You must have seen much of it."

"I have," the wind answered. "Is that your first wish?"

She was quiet for a long moment, then she smiled. "A true story, every night for a year. That is my wish."

"I will bring cold with me whenever I visit," the wind warned her. "For I am ice and snow, frost and blizzard. I am winter itself. Are you certain?"

The young woman turned to look back at her humble, warm home and thought of her mother's beloved flowers and her father's meticulously tended herb bed.

"Two true stories every night for as long as this winter lasts," she amended. "Will you accept my wish?"

"I accept," Winter answered solemnly. "Light a candle at your window, when it is the only light that still burns in your home, I will come."

The wind blew away and the young woman returned inside, her parents sighing, rueful and exasperated as they accepted the bridle with gold decorations and spun out of enchanted silver thread.

"Always giving away what would enrich your life," her father grumbled, rubbing his forehead as though getting a headache. "But it's alright, if this is not what you want, surely someone will find a gift soon."

"Our beautiful, strange girl," her mother murmured fond and wry all at once, kissing her on her brow. "Will one of them ever make you happy one day?"

"We'll find the right one," her father said reassuringly, pulling them both into a hug. He turned to look at his daughter, "And we'll make sure you never have to fear being taken."

That night the young woman lit a candle and waited. She had almost fallen asleep when the window slipped open a crack and she felt icy winds brush through the room, trailing a handful of snowflakes in its wake. Immediately the windows frosted over to pure white and any warmth was gone between one breath and the next.

"A wish is a wish," Winter said. "And here are your stories, as promised."

Winter first told her a story of lands beyond the mountains, of tall cliffs and hardy forests. It told her of raging oceans that froze solid whenever autumn passed and the reindeers that thundered across it to different lands. 

Winter was kind enough to answer any questions she had and she soon knew why the reindeers did what they did, how the ocean froze.

The second story was rather sad in her opinion, it was of two lovers who had run from an abusive father and a loveless marriage respectively. They had escaped into the night by the skin of their teeth and Winter told her of their journey through snow and ice. They lastly died, two miles from home, holding each other, smiles frozen unto their faces.

"Have many people died this way?" the young woman couldn't help but ask.

"Yes," Winter answered. "And many more will. The cold is no place for those who need warmth to live. Good night now, you who shines like a star, I shall see you again tomorrow."

She fell asleep to the soft whistle of air as Winter left, gently pulling the window closed behind it. Her dreams were filled with wondrous sceneries and people wandering through a snowy forest, away from their warm and yet unsafe homes.

The young woman soon looked forward to Winter's visits the most, eagerly going to sleep each night and secretly she hoped this winter might last just a little longer. The prince and holy knight, as well as many of her other more persistent suitors were quickly forgotten when confronted with stories of the world at large.

And finally she got to know what the world truly was. It was indeed dangerous, but it was also incredibly wonderful. Every story filled her with wonder and longing, chasing away the wariness her parents had painstakingly instilled within her.

The young woman felt as though she had forced herself to be a frozen lake all her life, still and quiet and unmoving, never leaving and never changing. Now, however, it felt as though the thrum of reindeer hooves had made the ice tremble and with each story she wanted more. 

With each story she felt her childhood dreams emerge, that deep seated adventurous spark she had smothered upon seeing her parents' tearstained, panicked faces. She had loved them too much to cause them grief and so she had made sure to be obedient and sweet at all times.

She also hadn't wanted to be taken away, to live a horrible life and to never see her parents again. She hadn't wanted to upset them and make them cry or discuss strategies to keep her safe until late at night.

But deep down, beneath the stillness she forced upon her soul, she had never quite stopped looking beyond what she knew. To peer towards the woods and wonder what laid there, to watch travelers and dream of the lands they must have seen.

"Thank you," she murmured as Winter left, sleep rising to claim her. "You're the only one who doesn't tell me everyone wants to hurt me."

Winter was silent, the window cracked still and she wasn't sure if she imagined it or not, but it almost sounded as though they said, "You can count on my aid for as long as I am here, should you need it."

She smiled and felt the furs she had started to take to bed being pulled up to her chin by what seemed to be hands. She was asleep the next moment, unable to open her eyes once more and check.

Winter soon had to move on, however and she mournfully said goodbye to her new friend.

"If you wish it, I can ask my friends to visit," Winter offered on the last day, only snowy slush remaining on the ground and water dripping off of trees. The only spot where there was still true cold was where the wind blew and she swore she could almost make out a shape as it moved. "They could tell you about things I have not seen."

"Then let this be my other wish," the young woman agreed, a glad smile brightening her face. "I would happily welcome the company."

"A wish spoken is a wish granted." She felt cold brush past her cheek, almost like a caress. "I will see you again soon," Winter promised. "If you wish."

"Oh, I very much wish so," she reassured them, reaching out to find invisible strands of wind weaving around her fingers, cold gently brushing her skin. "Will I ever see you in full?"

"Maybe one day." With those words Winter left, trailing the last bit of ice of the year in their wake.

And as promised, the young woman wasn't without company. Spring spoke to her through blooming flowers and invited her to playful dances in moonlight by luring her out the window, promising to look after her.

"There is no joy in never getting to laugh," Spring told her, a grin bright in that sweet, often mischievous voice. "Come, jump and let me catch you!"

Spring was bright and joyful and taught her much about the world. It told her of large meadows that bloomed so brightly one saw only color as far as the eye could see. It told her funny stories of silly animal antics and where it could find acorns and seeds buried in the ground to be raised up into new plants.

The knight and prince were still persistent, hoping to win her heart with more magical creatures and even a few enchanted items, which the young woman refused. She had no need for a necklace that made her sing like a siren nor for bracelets that teleported her to the knight's side in case of danger.

After spring came summer, full of warmth and sweetness. Summer winds encouraged the young woman to walk barefoot outside, to turn her face into the winds and smell all the scents that could be brought over. To dare and set foot into the forests to find the most wonderful berries to pick and to watch deer graze peacefully.

Her parents never knew, she made sure not to worry them, but with each day, with each thing she did, she felt her heart grow. And with it, her yearning for more. To see the places she had been told of, to hear the sound of the ocean and smell a valley of flowers.

The prince and knight started to grow impatient, wondering what it took to make her their bride. They became more insistent, their words losing their sweet tone bit by bit.

"You're not getting any younger my dear," the baker told her when she came to pick up bread, her pale dress making her look like a walking piece of winter in the middle of summer. "They're soon going to change their minds and then where will you be? Filled with regret. So take an old man's advice and be smart."

"Surely one has made you fall in love, either with them or their riches," the cobbler said as she passed by. "You should let them know and arrange a wedding. We're all looking forward to the festivities."

She had no idea how to tell them that she hadn't chosen any of her suitors, that none of them had won her heart. Not with coin and not with living beings caged and collared. How could she have kept a single one of them, or fallen in love for that matter, if she felt trapped herself?

A comfortable, pretty cage made by loving parents, the bars wrought out of worry and kindness, but a cage nonetheless. And they were seeking to put her in another one, bigger and prettier, but just as locked up tight. All in the name of safety. All so they could have the winter girl and not someone else.

The young woman wondered if such a thing must be necessary. If there was a way to live free without fear. Surely there must be one.

She asked Autumn, for Summer had left before she could put her feelings properly into words. Autumn was busy as a bee, zipping from place to place to ensure harvest would be done in time, talking so fast she sometimes couldn't quite follow entirely.

"Of course you can go wherever you want," Autumn said while rustling leaves artfully, only to change its mind a moment later and turn it into cheerful chaos. "There, that's better. Winter Star, you are indeed unusual, that is true, but that is nothing bad. You can always call on us if you find yourself in trouble you can't solve alone."

"Are you certain?" she hadn't expected such an offer. The seasons had come in response to Winter's wish, after all. Autumn laughed, the leaves rustling around them, some more falling off trees.

"We have grown fond of you, worry not. Winter might have been able to ask us to say hello, but nothing beyond that." The winds tucked bright red and orange and yellow leaves into her hair until they looked like a messy crown. "Live, Winter Star. Life is too short to spend it cowering."

The young woman couldn't help but look past the village and to the forest beyond, the riot of colors autumn had brought and how it had even coaxed some trees into making their leaves especially pretty.

"Where do I go?" she couldn't help but ask, suddenly overwhelmed with all the options that seemed to lay themselves at her feet.

"Anywhere," Autumn answered with excited cheer. "Whenever you pack your bag to leave, you'll find that you have more friends than you thought and you will always find more. Go on, try it."

She couldn't simply up and disappear, of course. Not when it would ruin her parents. However, the next time she received gifts from the prince and knight, an idea sparked.

Autumn laughed when she talked about her plan and gladly agreed to help. Soon, gifts of a secret admirer appeared, promising all the things her parents were looking for. A home warded against evil, enough coin to keep their daughter happy and clothed and fed to the end of her days.

It took some finagling to make gifts for herself, but soon the young woman was caught by the idea of what made her happy. She gifted herself books and hardy boots and a bracelet made of colorful river stones. Her parents were befuddled at first, but seeing as she finally seemed to fall in love with someone, they were relieved.

The entire village spoke about it now, wondering who this mysterious stranger was and if they would get to meet them soon. The young woman made a marriage offer to herself and laughed when she accepted it in front of her parents.

"They will pick you up, won't they?" her mother fretted as she helped her pack. "I can't believe my little girl is getting married. We'll meet them soon, won't we? And don't you forget to invite us to the wedding."

"I'll be sure to visit," she promised and later asked Autumn for advice. "I can't just grab my things and leave like any old traveler, after all."

"Leave it to me," Autumn answered, before breezing away, muttering about stubborn berry bushes who really ought to know better by now.

A few days later, a young adult knocked at their door, dressed in fine autumn colored garb. They wore dark green breaches, earth-brown boots, a dark red tunic and a cloak of bright yellow wool, embroidered with dozens of fallen leaves in multiple colors. They bowed, hair windswept and eyes honey brown.

"It is an honor to meet you, I've come to pick up the young lady in the name of my master," the person said in Autumn's voice and when they met her gaze, they offered a quick little wink. The young woman couldn't help but grin, swiftly hiding it behind her hand when her parents glanced over.

"Oh, that is so lovely," her mother gasped when peeking outside and the young woman stepped forward to look as well.

Outside stood a gleaming carriage in gold and red-brown colors and it was pulled by none other than a unicorn. The very unicorn she had once freed. It looked at her, no bridle on its head and she felt as though it was smiling as it dipped its head a little.

The bags were swiftly loaded onto the carriage and a tearstained and heartfelt goodbye later, the young woman left for the first time in her life.

As soon as they were away from the village, she managed to clamber up onto the driver's seat to hug Autumn tight.

Autumn laughed, ruffling her snowy hair. "Now, you best learn how to drive because I do not have the time to take you anywhere, I still have to wrangle some lazy mushrooms."

After a quick couple of lessons, Autumn left, disappearing in a flurry of leaves and rustling clothes to continue on as it always did.

The young woman's heart was racing as she traveled on and on. Autumn visited often and in brief bursts, but soon the air grew colder and colder. The young woman felt excitement rise within her at the thought of Winter's return.

And then, one day, she felt ice winds brush past her. "I see you have found your freedom. I am glad."

"Welcome back," she breathed, her breath fogging in front of her. "I missed you."

Coldness that felt like fingertips brushed her hair back. "And I you. I am glad to see you well."

The young woman happily told Winter all about her plans, while Winter guided her to a place she could stay as it was too cold to travel. A cottage, recently abandoned, but it was easily made ready again. The young woman sold the carriage in a nearby town and the unicorn left after nuzzling her cheek.

She made sure to write home to her parents, while she explored the world around her temporary home with Winter often at her side. Sometimes Winter's other friends showed up, the fox hopping around playfully and the owl watching kindly from its perch in the trees. Winter told her stories all without prompting and showed her the hidden beauty of their season.

"If you wish, travel north," Winter told her as they laid together in the snow, watching bright, bright stars above them at night. "I will be able to show you dancing lights in the sky."

"Yes," she said and slowly, carefully, inched her hand across the space between them, until she felt that special kind of cold breeze. The wind slowly settled and she swore, from the corner of her eyes as long as she did not glance over, she could glimpse Winter's shape once more.

It was the best winter she had ever had and when it became clear her dearest companion would move on soon, she promised to meet the season halfway.

"Go north," Winter reminded her once more. "If you wish, I will wait for you."

She reached out and closed her eyes and this time she felt proper hands close around hers, though they weren't as icy as the blowing winds. Still cool, but she felt soft skin and elegant hands, the brush of a fur lined sleeve. "I will be there, I promise."

"Soon, then," Winter whispered, a smile in their voice, and she felt the brush of cool lips and a cold breath upon her cheek, smiling wide. When she opened her eyes again, she watched ice winds blow away, looking joyful as they trailed snow in their wake.

The young woman set out as Winter left, buying herself a horse and using the rest of the money from the carriage to have her things put in storage until she sent for them.

She left on her very first adventure, Spring urging her on, showing her the meadow of flowers and guiding her way across the land to where ocean waves lapped against fine-sand shores.

She got to meet and speak with many different people and sometimes Spring and later Summer warned her away from certain folks. But mostly, people did her no harm nor wished harm upon her. If anything, many approached her, concerned about her safety and offering to help her get where she wanted to go. She always declined kindly and smiled.

The young woman got to truly experience the world, listening to new music, visiting theatres when she came by cities and towns and eating food she had never dreamed of could exist.

She headed north at last, cutting her time with Summer short and meeting Autumn sooner. And then, the air grew cold and she felt a familiar, very dear presence.

"Hello," she said with a wide, happy smile appearing on her face. "I came, as promised."

"Let me show you everything," Winter breathed and there was excitement in that beloved voice. They traveled onward together and if the young woman tipped her head the right way, she saw Winter beside her, riding on a horse of snow and wind.

Soon she got to see the ocean frozen, as it had been in the very first true story she had ever heard. She watched reindeer trot across in big herds, holding out her hand and smiling when Winter took it, her heart so warm the cold around her might as well have stopped existing.

"Why chose me?" Winter asked as they settled down on a snow covered hill to watch the sun set. It looked truly beautiful. "There were many who tried to win your heart."

"But none understood it," she answered and when she looked up, she saw Winter truly for the first time, not as a season, but as the spirit it was. 

Tall and slim, with hair as white as hers and eyes as dark as the frozen ocean. Ice earrings as blue as glaciers dangled from their ears and snowflakes were woven through their hair like the finest veil, ending in a crown of icicles. Clothes in white and light blue draped across their form, lined with fur and half covered in frost.

"Maybe I would have fallen in love with one of the others, had they not offered me another cage," she admitted, giving that cool hand in hers a gentle squeeze. "But instead of expensive gifts and captured magical beings, you gave me stories and shared your friends with me."

One of those slim hands rose to cup her cheek, feeling a little frosty but not stinging her with its coolness. "You shine so brightly, I would never think about forcing you to dim."

"Then you have your answer." She tipped her head into their hand, letting it cradle the side of her face. "I have an idea. Let's make this place our home, so I can be with you for many months."

"Yes," they answered, brushing a cold kiss against her forehead and she could feel them smile against her skin. "And the rest of the year you'll get to be the adventurer you always wanted to be, my star."

That did sound like the best future.

*.*.*

"They'll love you, I promise," the young woman said, giving Winter's hand a gentle squeeze. "They've been asking to meet you and when our wedding will be."

"They will know what I am the moment they see me," Winter sighed but followed her up the path to her parents' house. It was dark and thick snow covered everything.

"They will, but they will also see that you never took me they way they feared and that I am happy." She looked up at the love of her life, the one who loved her for who she was in return. "Trust me."

Winter softened and pulled to a stop in front of the door, cupping her cheek in one elegant hand and leaning down to brush the loveliest of kisses upon her lips. "Always, my star."

The young woman grinned, happy and bright, like ice in the sun and cheerful snowfall. Then she raised her hand and knocked.

*.*.*

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[loonybun]

I like to imagine faerie magic that’s used on humans has similar vibes to the myth of the lotus eaters if that makes any sense. Just a divine sense of sweetness and peace that makes you forget any worries you’ve ever had. In fact, it makes you forget a lot of things. Why go through the trouble of thinking when you don’t need to? You’re at peace now, after all.

This would probably be specifically after giving a faerie your name, not before. They can only really start to affect people based on how much power they hold over them, after all. And if they want to put your mind at rest, there’s no better way to do it. You feel taken care of, safe, and blissful.

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

okay, this is a halfway to 7k unedited fantasy au snippet! Out Of Context as usual!

some warnings for this one: blood, gore, major character injury, graphic description of injury <3 i had fun w/ it not sorry <3

~

The front door slams open, stalling all conversation inside. A flash of lightning illuminates the two forms huddled in the doorway, one considerably larger than the other.

Barnaby staggers a half-step inside, dripping water all over the floor. That alone has Howdy putting down the glass and moving across the bar to better assess the situation. Eddie is struggling to support Barnaby’s listing weight, and both of them are clutching at Barnaby’s belly. They’re both soaked through.

Someone gasps, and the folks seated nearest to the door stand and back away, muttering in alarm. Howdy’s stomach plummets. Some of the water puddling on the floor is too dark to be just that. Barnaby’s front, under where his massive paw is clutched, is drenched dark as well. 

Eddie catches his eye - he looks wild with fear. 

“Out!” Howdy thunders. “Everyone out! I don’t care about your tabs or if you’re not done - if you have a room, go there, if you don’t, scram!”

Some people cast him and Eddie dirty looks, but they start to get up, grumbling all the while. Howdy couldn’t care less. Not when Barnaby is leaning so heavily on Eddie, his breathing so labored that Howdy can hear it amidst the shuffle and scrape of patrons leaving.

“What happened?” Julie yells, running across the room from the neighborhood booth. 

“Make sure everyone gets out,” Howdy says, redirecting her. Julie doesn’t look happy about it, but she complies. The patrons start to clear out faster with her aggressive ‘assistance’. Howdy throws his drying towel off to the side and nearly vaults over the bar to help support Barnaby. He reaches to sling Barnaby’s other arm over his shoulders-

“Don’t!” Eddie cries. He doesn’t let go from the wound, and Barnaby cringes away from Howdy with a breathy echo - “Don’t.”

“Why not?” Howdy says, panic rising in his throat. He looks closer at the wound Barnaby and Eddie are holding - this time he has to swallow down bile. Glistening, blood-slicked pink pulses under their hands. Barnaby whines softly. He’s terribly pale under his fur.

“Everyone’s gone!” Julie announces. 

Howdy snaps out of his horrified trance. He points at the bar. “Clear a spot on the floor for him on the floor, make sure we have room to work.”

Julie makes a frustrated noise but complies once again. Howdy slips around to Eddie’s side and trades places with him, but Eddie doesn’t let go of the wound. The sudden weight makes Howdy stumble, but he quickly widens his stance and starts shuffling them to the area Julie is clearing. They help Barnaby lower to the ground, and every pained whine and gasp is like an arrow to the heart. Eddie whispers apologies all the way down. Barnaby’s free paw leaves scratches in the bar’s cherry wood.

“Ed, I need you to get my supplies from my room,” Howdy says, rolling up his sleeves with quick, expert flicks.

Eddie looks at him like he’s crazy. “I can’t let go!” 

“I’m here to take your place - four arms are better than two, now get!” 

Eddie still hesitates, but slips away once Howdy puts all four of his hands where Eddie’s measly two were. It’s hot, and wet, and - and -

It becomes immediately clear that this is a wound they can’t fix, not without an extraordinarily talented healer. 

“Julie,” Howdy chokes out, “get Poppy.”

“Okay,” Julie says faintly, right behind him. She slowly backs away, and all at once sprints for the front door. A burst of fresh, rain-filled air blows inside before the door closes again. The cold shock makes Barnaby flinch and gasp. 

“Hold on, Barn.” Howdy forces himself to look at Barnaby’s face instead of the pulsing guts bulging from the gash someone sliced across his belly. The soaked fur under and around it looks purple. “Help will be here in a jiff, so don’t you go falling asleep on me.”

“Tryin’,” Barnaby wheezes, and his voice has never sounded so much like music, “tryin’ not to. It’s - stars, it hurts, Howdy-”

“I know, but you gotta hang in there, pal. Poppy will fix you right up.”

“I…” Barnaby makes a wretched noise that sounds like a sob, “I don’t wanna die.” He whines, a leg weakly kicking out as his guts twitch. “M’ not ready, Howds, m’ not…”

“You’re not going to die,” Howdy insists even as Barnaby’s blood soaks his hands and sleeves. 

He doesn’t want Barnaby to die, either, but who knows where Poppy is - there’s no guarantee that she’s home, and even if she is, her abode is clear across town. Julie is a fast runner, but in this weather… with such a distance…

Barnaby is going to die. 

Howdy will do his damned best to keep that from happening. 

Clattering precedes Eddie sprinting around the corner. He checks the bar hard, but doesn’t fall or flinch. He takes the hit and slides to his knees by Barnaby’s side and opens the pack. Howdy almost reaches out to rummage through it himself, but Barnaby’s paw starts to slip from the wound. 

“No no, none of that.” Howdy nudges it back into place with his knee and tries to jostle Barnaby with the same motion. “Eyes open and paw up, Barn.”

“Tryin’,” Barnaby whispers. His eyelids flutter in a vain attempt to stay open. His breathing rattles.

Howdy doesn’t need to tell Eddie what to look for, and thank the heavens for that, because Howdy doesn’t think he can look away from Barnaby’s pained features, much less form words that aren’t incoherent prayers to any god that will listen. Barnaby’s paw slips, and Howdy has to lunge to keep his insides from becoming his outsides. Just his hands aren’t enough - he needs to use his forearms. There’s so much of it. 

Eddie scoots forward and holds up a potion, and Howdy nearly howls in anguish. “Not that one! The healing potions - the red ones!”

“I know that!” Eddie snaps just as viciously, which is enough of a shock that Barnaby gains a moment of startled clarity. Eddie uses it to coax him to drink the golden energy potion. “I have some healin’ powers of my own - I can buy him more time than your bruise busters, and you’re fresh out of those, anyway!”

Out?

Howdy stares at his pack in horror. That’s right. He hasn’t restocked - oh, he’s a fool! He allowed himself to grow complacent and reliant on Eddie and Poppy’s healing. He has no time to thoroughly curse his inaction, as Barnaby’s paw comes back up to the wound, and his back arches as he wails his agony. The potion kicked in. Eddie quickly shoves his paw away again and holds his hands to the corner of the gash, his palms glowing orange.

“Oh, oh no,” Barnaby sobs, his boots and claws scraping wood, “Ed, stop-!”

“I’m sorry,” is all Eddie says. He shoves Barnaby’s paw aside when he tries to pry Eddie away. Barnaby grabs for the nearest thing with his other paw, which happens to be Howdy’s thigh. Howdy bites back a pained hiss at the feeling of claws digging sharp through his pants. The cold water saturating Barnaby’s paw soaks the fabric in seconds, creating a contrast to the pinpricks of hot welling up under the claws.

Howdy eyes the healing glow and the strain on Eddie’s face. It won’t be enough - Howdy doubts it will give Barnaby any time at all. The thin corner of the gash slowly knits together, but the rest of it is too wide, too deep. The only reason Eddie can heal any of it at all is due to how clean the slice is. The blade that created this wound must have been freshly sharpened, or enchanted. Howdy can tell at a glance that it cut through Barnaby like a knife through marmalade. 

Eddie heals the other tapered end. He and Howdy exchange a glance - Howdy sees it in his eyes that the healing is just a platitude. Blood continues to soak Barnaby’s pants, Howdy’s, their hands, Howdy’s clothes, the floor. 

Abruptly, Howdy is keenly aware of how quiet the tavern is. Rain drums on the roof and thunder rolls outside. The fireplace crackles. How long will it take to scrub the blood out of the wood flooring? How long will Howdy spend staring at the scratches etched into the bar?  

“How- Howdy,” Barnaby says. He isn’t gripping Howdy’s leg as hard anymore, but he gives it a weak squeeze. “Gotta tell ya - hng - somethin’. Shoulda… told ya sooner, but-”

“Save it for later,” Howdy says quickly. “You can gab all you want when you’re better.”

There likely won’t be a later, or better, and that’s half the problem. Call Howdy selfish, but he won’t let Barnaby make this hurt more than it already does. More than it will. He would rather live with a might’a than a could’a.

Barnaby knows it, because his eyes mist up and he nods weakly. “Yeah. When I’m… when I’m better. Can I ask a fa-favor?”

“Anythin’,” Eddie murmurs. Howdy had forgotten he’s there.

“Find Wally for me?”

Eddie lays a bloody hand on Barnaby’s arm, steely determination flashing in his eyes. “We will. I swear it on my patron’s light.”

“That’s a…” Barnaby pauses to grimace and swallow thickly, “a big promise, Ed.”

“I’ll make sure he keeps it,” Howdy says.

“M’ sure you will. But, but… if Wally really is gone… hey, I’ll say hi to ‘em for ya.” Barnaby manages a shaky half-smile. “At least that’d be one - one good thing ta’ come outta this, huh?”

Howdy’s composure cracks. He chokes down sobs as he slumps over Barnaby, uncaring of the awkward position or the insides sandwiched against his front, drenching his apron and shirt with blood. He hides his tears in Barnaby’s cold, waterlogged ear. Barnaby uses what little strength he has left to turn his head, weakly nuzzling the side of Howdy’s face. His breath is warm. Weak, but warm.

Distantly, Howdy hears Eddie curse and ask “Where are they?” The clink of his armor fades, and the door opens just enough to let in the scent of rain. Howdy hears more than feels Barnaby breathe it in. As close as they are, Howdy can hear the wet rattle in Barnaby’s chest.

Should Howdy do something to make him more comfortable? Would Barnaby’s herbs ease his pain? Even if it would, if anything would, Howdy can’t let go. That would hurt him more, and Howdy refuses to give up that tiny sliver of hope that something can be done. 

The door slams open to let in a thunder of footsteps. Howdy snaps upright, and he’s certain that if he didn’t have a job to do, he’d collapse. 

“Oh dear, oh-” Poppy squawks loud enough to make everyone cringe, her feathers fluffing up. “My feathers, that’s! Oh! That is much worse than what you told me!”

“One can hardly fault her,” Sally says before Julie can respond. She kneels by Howdy with Poppy right behind her. “Are you with us, Barnaby?”

No response. 

Howdy goes cold. “Barn?”

Sally briskly taps Barnaby’s cheek until he twitches, his eyelids barely lifting before falling shut once more. “Still with us!”

If Howdy wasn’t already crying, he’d start now.

“Can you fix it?” Eddie asks from off to the side.

Julie paces anxiously. “Of course she can! Poppy’s the best healer for miles, there’s nothing she can’t do. Right, Poppy? He’ll be up and joking in no time!”

“I.” Poppy’s feathers shake as she dances them over the open wound. “I will most certainly try, but I can’t do it on my own. It’s too severe for my magic to do much of anything. Sally, dear-”

“No,” Sally says immediately, her glow dimming. “You cannot be serious, I won’t - I simply will not-”

“You must. We all need to work together - Howdy and Eddie need to hold the wound shut. It won’t just be you.”

“We need to what now?” Eddie says, even as he settles on Howdy’s other side. “What’s going on?”

Howdy feels sick. “You and I have to make sure his insides stay inside, while Sally will-”

“Sally won’t,” Sally says. “As much of a nuisance as he likes to make himself, Barnaby is my friend! I could never-”

“Then you’re alright with losing him!”” Howdy snarls. “Perhaps you’d like to trade places with me and feel him die under your hands instead!”

Sally gapes at him, stricken. Her mouth flaps for a moment before she shuts it firmly and turns to the wound, lifting her hands. 

“What does she have to do?” Julie asks.

Everyone ignores her - not out of unkindness. Poppy nods to Eddie and Howdy. Eddie places his hands in the spaces where Howdy can’t completely reach. They exchange a glance and push.

There was a time when Howdy received an overpacked shipment of linked sausages. He had no room to store it yet, but the sack it arrived in tore. Shoving them back in - even with all four of his hands - was nigh impossible. It was impressive how the sausages had managed to fit at all, because the sack was certainly too small. 

Shoving Barnaby’s guts back into his stomach is a lot like that.

Barnaby cringes and moans in his nearly-unconscious state, feebly trying to get away from what is certainly agonizing pain. His brow bunches up, and he whines high in his throat. 

Howdy can’t spare a thought to it. Blood and organs squelch as Howdy and Eddie rush to cram it all inside - there’s no time for caution. As soon as the last slip of pink is inside - it’s so, so dark and red past the blue - they squeeze the wound shut to the best of their abilities. Barnaby sobs quietly.

“Now,” Poppy says, and Sally’s palms burn hot enough to make Howdy’s skin itch.

She holds her hands to the sealed gash, and Barnaby starts wailing. Too weak to thrash, he just writhes softly and keens, tears freely spilling down his face and carving dark tracks in his drying fur. His paw twitches around Howdy’s leg, claws digging in again like he wants to grab or yank or something.

“Almost there, Barn,” Howdy lies. Part of him wishes Barnaby would fall fully into unconsciousness. It would be dangerous, but at least he wouldn’t feel this. 

The acrid stench of burning fur and flesh fills Howdy’s nose. Sally and Eddie both gag. Heels rapidly click across the tavern as Julie sprints to the nearest waste bin, and she retches loudly into it. Howdy barely registers it - he’s barely breathing, himself. 

“Well done, all of you,” Poppy murmurs as Sally cauterizes. She holds her wingtips to the cooked flesh of the wound as Sally continues, and they glow coal red. The wound glows with it, the angry blistered flesh smooths and pales, and blue fur starts to grow back before their eyes. 

Barnaby’s paw falls from Howdy’s leg as he starts to slump, cries petering off into agonized whines. Poppy doesn’t seem alarmed, and Howdy just wants his pain to stop, so no one moves to keep him awake.

Soon, Sally has to shuffle in front of Howdy and Eddie to continue. They’re loath to move, so she awkwardly lies across their laps and reaches. As soon as she burns her way to the end that Eddie healed, Poppy gives them the all-clear. 

Eddie lets go first, slumping back on his heels. Sally is still draped across Howdy’s lap with her head pillowed on Eddie’s. The three of them catch their breath as they watch Poppy brush her healing feathers across Barnaby’s stomach. Julie staggers over to them and kneels next to Eddie. She leans against him, sniffling. Howdy doesn’t have it in him to protest when Eddie not only loops an arm around her shoulders, but around Howdy’s waist as well.

Barnaby is finally unconscious, his features slack  - Howdy places a hand on his chest to make sure, and the shallow rise and fall of it is more priceless than all the coin in the world. Howdy slowly sits. His hand trails down as Poppy pulls her wings back, and his fingertips dance on the silvery smooth line of a fresh scar. 

“I’ve done all I can,” Poppy says with a gusty sigh. “So have the rest of you - again, well done. You all did splendidly.”

“I don’t feel splendid,” Sally croaks.  

“Well… you are. Quite splendid. Let’s get him up and to a bed.” Poppy’s first attempt at standing fails. Sally all but leaps up to help support her, and she laughs nervously. “I’m afraid that took quite a bit out of me. There was more to heal than I expected, dear me.”

“Will he be okay?” Julie asks. 

Poppy looks at Barnaby with a soft, sad look in her eyes. “I can’t say for certain. It’s up to Barnaby, now… all we can do is make sure he’s comfortable. A-and keep a close eye on him! There could be, ah… complications. Infections, and the like. Mh, I’m sure it won’t come to that, though. Sally’s fire should have burned out anything nasty.”

Howdy belatedly realizes that he needs to help carry Barnaby. He kneels on shaky legs and gently maneuvers Barnaby’s dead wei- unconscious weight to the side. Howdy slips his upper arms under Barnaby’s, using his lower set to help support his back. Eddie takes one side, Sally and Julie take the other. Poppy does her best to help, but she can only lift Barnaby’s unbloodied leg with her beak. 

They shuffle their way to a ground floor room. There’s plenty, but Howdy once again chooses to be selfish and brings them to one near to his own. Near is subjective - Howdy lives on the second floor, but the staircase to his private suite is as close to Barnaby’s temporary room as it can get. Barnaby will be sleeping right below Howdy. If anything happens, he’ll hear.

They get Barnaby onto the bed, and all of them breathe sighs of relief - and mild pain, in Eddie’s case as he stretches his back. Poppy asks for Julie to stay and assist her with getting Barnaby adjusted. 

Howdy doesn’t wait for a dismissal. He stumbles his way out of the room with Sally and Eddie in tow, his heart jackrabbiting. It feels like he grabbed hot coals, or swallowed a bolt of lightning. He’s shaky and ill and he just held Barnaby’s intestines in his hands.

Howdy leans over the bar and blindly grabs a bottle from underneath it. He uncorks it with his mouth, spits the cork to the side, and starts chugging. The alcohol burns as it goes down. It’s cheap, bitter, and easy to focus on. He comes up for breath with a small gasp and coughs, wincing at the aftertaste.

Cleaning supplies clatter as Eddie brings them out of the supply closet - Howdy wasn’t aware he knew where that was. It’s just a bucket of water and a scrubber. Not that he’ll do much good. He’s still caked in blood and mud. Dishes clink as Sally cleans up the ample messes that the patrons left behind. Howdy takes another swig and stares blankly at the shelf behind the bar.

The blank eyes of the Wally-puppet stare back at him. At least the real Wally wasn’t here to see that. Howdy doesn’t know what he would have done, or how he would have reacted… best not to imagine. In any case, Howdy hopes that by the time they find Wally, this whole experience will be nothing but another story. 

Howdy goes to wipe his mouth with the back of his hand - oh. Right. It’s still covered in blood. All four of them are. The blood glistens when Howdy holds out his hands. It’s warm and tacky, clinging to his fingers like sap as he spreads them. 

It’s Barnaby’s blood. 

These hands were inside of Barnaby’s gutted stomach, and Howdy can still feel the sickening heat and the way it all pulsed and twitched and-

Howdy copies Julie’s example and vomits into the nearest acceptable receptacle. The alcohol tastes better going the other way, even if it burns worse. 

Once the dry heaving stops, Howdy sinks to the ground, shaking with silent sobs. His legs curl up and he presses the heels of his upper hands to his forehead, hugging himself with his lower arms. The crimson-soaked fabric of his shirt squishes and sticks to his skin.

Everything Sally carries rattles, and every few minutes something falls. Chipped cups, shattered plates, clattering platters. After each breakage, she picks up the shards and keeps clearing the tables. The constant swish, swish, swish of scrubber bristles on wood fill the silence between rattling dishware and rolls of thunder. Eddie scrubs at the one spot on the floor, where Barnaby sat. The water he pours and scrubs quickly turns pink, then red. 

The door opens, letting in yet another gust of air. It slowly closes, and Frank’s shrill voice cries out, “What in the heavens happened in here?”

Anger rises sharply in Howdy’s gut - and vanishes as soon as it came. There’s no use in being mad at Frank - they didn’t explicitly go with Eddie and Barnaby on their day trip. He was gathering information. There was no way he could have known what would happen. 

Frank belatedly notices the thick trail of blood on the floor, and sidesteps it before rushing to Eddie. “Is everyone okay? Who’s hurt? That’s not your blood, is it-”

“It’s not mine,” Eddie says, not looking away from his task. Swish, swish, swish. When Frank reaches for him, he waves them off. “Stay back, it’s a mess. I’ll take care of it - I’m taking care of it.”

He isn’t taking care of it.

Frank takes a step back, his eyes wide enough that Howdy can see the whites of them clear across the tavern. Frank looks over the trail of blood, the puddle, bootprints, the smeared handprints, and the sheer amount coating not only Eddie, but Howdy too. Sally doesn’t make a move to acknowledge Frank as she stacks wood platters and ceramic plates. More blood stains her from where she kneeled in it, and laid across Howdy and Eddie. 

A scraaaaape precedes Julie backing into the tavern proper with a large tub of steaming water. Howdy makes a desperate sound and scrambles over to it. He thrusts his arms into the water and scrubs furiously at his skin and sleeves, ignoring the burn of the slightly too-hot temperature. Julie’s stare sears into him for only a moment before she takes a shuddering breath and steps out of the splash zone. 

“Frank!” she says a touch too loudly, oozing false cheer. “You’re back! Did you find anything?”

“Did I - what does that matter! Julie, what’s going on?”

“Oh, Barnaby got a little hurt, but he’s resting now.”

Frank incredulously gestures to the tavern’s general state. “A little hurt?”

“Barnaby’s fine now,” Julie reiterates. “Poppy is taking care of him.”

“How did - why did - what -”

Howdy slowly stops scrubbing. His skin feels raw under his fuzz as he stands, water sluicing from his arms. He unties his apron as he returns to the bar and tosses it over a stool. He sits on the one next to it and snatches the open bottle of - whatever it is. It’s alcohol. That’s what matters. He rests his head in his hands between acrid swigs. 

“Everything is okay! Poppy is the best healer around, it’s nothing she can’t handle,” Julie chirps. No one calls her out on the proven lie. She starts collecting straggling dishes alongside Sally. “We’re just helping Howdy clean up.”

In his periphery, Howdy catches Frank side-eyeing him. He chugs from the bottle for a moment and slams it back down, if only to make a point. Frank is the only one to jolt at the sharp bang.

Frank slowly crouches by Eddie, frowning deeper than normal. He mutters something too quiet for Howdy to hear from the other end of the bar. Eddie says something back - Frank lays a hand on his shoulder, and Howdy scowls miserably into his drink. His thigh itches.

Swish, swish- the scrubber finally stills. Eddie shoots to his feet, his armor clattering loudly, and he steadies himself against the counter as his other hand flies to his forehead. “Oh no. Oh, no…”

Everyone stills, and the tension in the room thickens palpably. 

“What is it?” Frank asks.

Eddie looks at Howdy with horror in his eyes. “We lost Wormie. Barn dropped his hat when we were ambushed - there was no time to stop. We couldn’t…”

“Show me,” Howdy says, leaping off of his stool and charging for the door. Eddie follows hot on his heels.

The rain is freezing. It soaks Howdy through to the bone as soon as he steps out from under the tavern awning.

Howdy doesn’t dare go back to get a coat, even if all he has on are his thin work clothes. The cold nearly knocks the breath out of him, but he focuses on the alcohol warm in his stomach and plunges into the storm. He slows just enough to let Eddie - and, apparently, Sally - pass him. She carves a way through the pitch black night.

Mud saturates Howdy’s boots and the cuffs of his pants. It sticks unpleasantly to his skin and only worsens the chill as they run past dark buildings. Few windows glow orange, proving how late it’s gotten. There’s no way of knowing how long it’s been since Barnaby was injured. Even with Sally,’s light, it’s going to be impossible to find Wormie in this weather.

Howdy’s eyes burn as they leave the town’s muddy streets and plunge into the terribly dark forest. What if they don’t find her? The thought is almost too much to bear. Howdy doesn’t think he could face Barnaby when - if - he wakes up. They’ve already lost Wally, and that alone has had Barnaby in shambles. But if they lost his beloved little worm, too? 

It feels like they run through the woods for hours. Eddie keeps slipping and tripping, but manages to keep his legs under him. Howdy’s mind whirls with what-ifs and maybes and hows and whys. Eddie and Barnaby were ambushed so far away - why did they come to Howdy’s tavern instead of going right to Poppy’s? How horrible was it to go all the way into town in that state, in this weather? What if Wormie drowned, or was trampled, frozen, taken -

“I think it was here,” Eddie shouts over the thunder and rain. A flash of lightning illuminates the ground through the waving treetops. 

“You think?” Sally says. Howdy wishes he had said it first - now is not the time for Eddie’s navigational dysfunction! 

“I don’t know, Sally! I wasn’t really paying attention on account of keepin’ Barn’s insides from spillin’ everywhere!” Eddie doesn’t say it to be cruel, Howdy knows.

It doesn’t stop him from feeling unsteady all over again, or stop Sally’s glow from dimming. He glances around like he expects to see more blood, though even if this is the correct area, the rain has washed any evidence away. Howdy turns in a circle, tangling his upper hands in his hair. 

There’s no way of knowing. There’s no way of finding such a tiny, sweet little creature- lightning flashes, catching on leather outside of Sally’s glow.

Howdy lunges for the hat, uncaring of how his knees sink deep into frigid mud as he snatches it up. The hat is grimy, but undamaged. Even Ms. Beagle’s feather is intact. But when Howdy turns it over, his heart sinks.

Nothing inside.

Nothing on the ground around it either, even when he digs through the mud to make sure. Eddie hesitantly touches Howdy’s shoulder, and Sally’s warm glow envelops his back. 

“I’m sorry,” Eddie says. He sniffles. “I should’ve grabbed her. I should’ve-”

“You prioritized our bard,” Sally says. “We can’t fault you for that.”

They can’t. Howdy… Howdy wants to, but he can’t find it in himself. He’s cold, he’s tired, he wants to go make sure Barnaby is being taken care of. He looks around a final time, blinking against the rainwater pouring over his eyes.

Nothing but muddy soil, bushes, trees, darkness. 

Howdy clutches the hat to his chest and stands, stumbling slightly. His friends steady him, and his face pinches. He shouldn’t have drank so much at once. It’s finally getting to him, and soon he’ll be of no use at all. He can already feel the faint buzz in his head.

“We’ll come back in the morning,” Sally promises, tugging gently on his lower arm.

Howdy makes a pained noise. She won’t make it to morning. It’s too cold, she’s too small. All they’ll find is her little frozen body. 

“Hold on.” Eddie holds out an arm to stop them. “Can you hear that?”

“It’s impossible to hear anything over this storm,” Sally says. 

“No, no… I’m sure I heard something. It was a - a little, it was a little…”

Peep.

Howdy’s waterlogged antennae snap upright, and he whips around to stare at a nearby tree. A past storm must have nearly blown it over, as half of the base seems uprooted. Gnarled roots arc and tangle out of the ground. Howdy falls to his knees in front of the dark hole under the trunk. 

Another peep comes from inside.

“Sal, I need your light,” Howdy says, fumbling for her. Her golden glow fills the space, and he nearly sobs. 

Wormie squints up at them, curled into a tiny ball and shaking like the wet leaves she lies on. Mud covers her colors - if her eyes weren’t open, one could mistake her for a twig. Her harness blends into the rest of her. She peeps again. 

“Hey, gal,” Howdy murmurs, reaching into the shelter. Her antennae make a feeble attempt at raising, and she stretches her neck out towards his fingers. He slips them underneath her and lifts her out, making sure to shield her from the rain with his body. 

“Thank the stars,” Eddie says wetly. “For a moment there I thought we lost her.”

Howdy curls his fingers around Wormie, his heart breaking at how violently she shakes. 

“Should I take her? She must be freezing, the poor thing” Sally says, holding out a hand. Howdy holds her out, and Wormie lifts her head as Sally’s warm glow washes over her. She blinks at the offered trade, then drops her head and nestles into Howdy’s palm. Sally retracts her hand. “Apparently not.”

Howdy hooks the hat over that hand, and Wormie lets out a mournful peep. He lets Sally and Eddie pull him through the forest, staying hunched over the hat and murmuring reassurances. He starts quietly crying again at some point. The rain washes away his tears and sounds. By the time they return to the tavern, he’s exhausted himself. They all stumble through the doorway as a soaked, grimy trio.

Julie and Frank flurry over to fuss over them, but Howdy staggers past their worries. All he knows through the cotton in his head is that he needs a hot bath. He leaves their chatter behind and makes his way down the hallway, only pausing to listen at Barnaby’s door. 

Poppy is humming to herself. Howdy sags against the wall for a moment, taking solace in how calm she sounds. For a moment, he imagines going inside and resting at Barnaby’s bedside, but… later, he promises himself. When he’s in clean clothes and feels less like collapsing. 

Climbing the stairs to his room is a feat in itself, but Howdy manages it without tripping over the steps. He closes his door behind him and sighs, tempted to just fall asleep on the floor and deal with everything later. But Wormie is still shivering in his hand, and he might as well kill two birds with one stone. 

The hat is placed on the table for cleaning. Howdy hates to let go of Wormie, but he places her on the crown while he runs a bath. Not for the first time he thanks his past self for investing in this revolutionary tech called plumbing. All he needs to do is turn a valve, and hot water pours right into a fixed tub in the corner of his large, open room. 

For a long moment he yanks at the valve, not understanding why it’s not working- ah. He’s turning it the wrong way. He blinks forcibly and twists the right way, and water pours out. He watches it drain until it registers that he should plug the tub. 

Oh, the headache he’s going to have when he wakes up…

Howdy strips as he makes his way back over to Wormie, leaving unsalvageable clothing items strewn about. It’s a blessing in disguise that he was drenched by the rain - it kept all of the blood from drying, so his shirt and pants come off easily instead of sticking to his skin. He’s still stained red underneath them. Howdy undoes his ponytail and picks up Wormie. He carefully loosens her harness and slides it off, revealing a patch of spring blue and green bands underneath. 

He holds her to his chest as he steps into the filling tub. Steam rises off of it, and it clears his stuffed sinuses. He inhales it grateful and sinks into the water, clenching his teeth when it laps over the punctures in his thigh. He closes the valve and settles with a groan.

Wormie peeps at him and looks over the side of his hand at the water with longing in her big eyes. Howdy carefully lowers her until the warm water pools over his palm. Wormie finally stretches out as he rubs his thumb over her. Mud flakes and sloughs off of her, and she wriggles happily. She dunks her face and thrashes a little to properly soak herself. He gently runs a soap bar over her until she’s nearly white from the suds, and lowers her into the water so only her head floats on the surface.

Once she’s clean, Howdy grabs a small hand towel off of a nearby shelf, soaks it, and piles it on the side of the tub. He places Wormie on it and she happily starts burrowing. It occurs to him that he could look for some sort of floatation device for her, so that she could splash around to her tiny heart’s content, but just the thought is exhausting. So, a waterlogged towel it is. 

Before Howdy completely ruins the water by scrubbing more blood and mud into it, he washes his hair. The rain had already undone the ‘do, so at least he doesn’t have to scrub out the styling paste. He squeezes the water out as best as he can and slicks it back.

Watching the red caking his skin dissipate into the water is nothing short of a relief. He stops when he gets to the minor injury Barnaby left him - he can’t tell if he bled or not. If he did, it was overshadowed by Barnaby’s blood. He sits on the edge of the tub to better inspect it.

The wounds are shallow and nothing to write home about. They don’t need bandaging, though even if they did, the time for that has long since passed. Barnaby must not be dulling his claws like he usually does. Thankfully they weren’t entirely sharp, or Howdy suspects he’d have much larger holes in his thigh. Three punctures on the outside, one on the inside. Howdy opens the water valve a smidge just to wet a fresh towelette and properly clean the wounds. It would help no one to get them infected - Poppy needs to save her energy for Barnaby.

By the time he’s satisfied with his cleanliness - if he weren’t so tired, he’d have gone for a fourth round of soap - Wormie is dozing in her damp towel. He opens the drain before grabbing a fresh hand towel, this one dry. He carefully lifts Wormie out of it and wraps her in the soft fabric. Her eyes open for only a moment before she settles again, purring. 

For a long few minutes, Howdy just sits and holds her, watching her antennae twitch as she falls asleep. He absentmindedly rubs the towel, and Wormie’s purring increases as she’s dried. 

The sound of the last of the water draining pulls Howdy’s attention away from the tiny animal. He carefully gets out of the tub and puts Wormie back on the table, still wrapped up. Once again, he looks longingly at his bed. 

Howdy dries off and dresses in loose sleep pants and leaves it at that, not wanting to bother with a shirt. He rarely sleeps with one on, anyway. Too much of a hassle. He slips Wormie out of her towel and brings her downstairs, once again having to move slowly with much paid attention as to not fall with his leaden legs.

Poppy emerges from the room as Howdy reaches the ground floor. She turns and startles. “Oh! Howdy, you startled me. You look much better… though your hair is still wet - you’ll catch a cold if you leave it like that.”

Is it? Howdy brushes his fingertips over cold strands plastered to his neck. Oops. 

“Are you alright? You look quite unsteady…” Poppy comes over to him and squawks softly, her neck pulling back. “Is that alcohol? Howdy, are you drunk?”

Howdy shrugs one shoulder. Talking takes focus and time, but he manages, “I may be a little tipsy. No worries.”

“Many worries, dear.” 

“How is he?” Howdy deflects as he walks past her, partially leaning against the wall. He nudges open the door and rests against the doorframe. The blankets cast over the small room’s bed rise and fall in stark contrast to how shallow Barnaby was breathing earlier. 

“On the mend,” Poppy murmurs, following him inside. He slumps into the armchair already pulled up to the bed. “He might sleep for some time… he’s been through quite an ordeal. Anyone would be tired after so much healing, let alone after… well.”

Howdy carefully places Wormie on Barnaby’s neck. She stirs, and starts forcibly purring as soon as she registers the shade of blue underneath her. She doesn’t perform her usual party-seizure like she usually does when seeing Barnaby - she just burrows into his fur. Howdy has to wonder if she’s simply exhausted, or if she can tell that something is wrong. 

“I don’t believe we’ll encounter any complications with his health, thank goodness” Poppy says. “By my estimates, he should be up and moving within the week. I’d like him to remain on bedrest for a few days more than strictly necessary, but I doubt he’ll want to stay put.”

If Howdy weren’t so worn out, he’d tear up yet again. 

Of course he won’t stay. Barnaby will charge out the door as soon as he’s able, hellbent as he is on finding Wally. No one can blame him. The others will likely continue the search tomorrow, if not the next day. All Howdy can hope is they find something promising for Barnaby to wake up to.

He crosses his upper arms on the bed and pillows his head on them. He fights to keep his eyelids open, watching Barnaby’s peaceful face. He looks calm, his features holding no hint of pain. A warm weight drapes over Howdy. 

He starts to lift his head, but Poppy says, “It’s just a blanket. Rest, Howdy, you need it. Barnaby will be here when you wake up.”

Howdy means to thank her, but the word comes out as a weary sigh. He lets his eyes slide shut, and slips into deep sleep a second later.

[avirael]

Confessions

It was almost like one of these dreams where you thought you were falling and woke up with a jolt. Rael’s scream and the image of A’viloh tilting forward over the edge and into the abyss - a falling sensation Rael themself had suddenly felt like it was their own - violently pulled them back from their horrible vision.

For the short moment it took to regain a sense for what was real and what was vision, Rael howled as if in pain, raising a hand to their mouth and almost falling to their knees.

Then, as they suddenly realised the imminent danger A’viloh was in, a shudder went through their body and their head shot up. As quick as Rael’s feet would allow it, the Viera jumped up and raced towards the place they had seen in their vision - hoping that it was not too late already.

Out of breath they reached the corner of the square from their vision only a few minutes later. Their burning lungs and muscles were nothing against the painful stab in their heart as Rael noticed that A’viloh was truly standing at the other side of the square. They had hoped the vision had all just been a strange imagination and not reality but there he stood, just like they had seen it.

The coldness crept back into their bones and a horrible feeling of helplessness threatened to make them freeze, while all of Rael’s thoughts only screamed one word. No!

Not sure what to do, with no idea how to prevent this disaster, how to convince A’viloh that he was wrong, Rael quickly moved closer. Loudly but in a soothing tone, though their voice was involuntarily shaking, Rael forced themself to speak up.

“A’vi…”

The Miqo’te at the edge of the plaza flinched and then slowly looked over his shoulder a little, as if the voice alone hadn’t been enough to tell him who was standing a few steps behind him.

“Rael?”, his thin voice asked and his face was covered in frozen tears. With a sudden wave of despair Rael realised they had no clue what to say. No idea how to fix him.

In their mind they already saw him falling...

No! No, this could not happen!

“What are you doing here?”, Rael asked as casually as possible, like there was a perfectly fine explanation for all of this.

For a second A’viloh seemed unsure, then he looked away.

“Nothing.”, he lied.

Rael decided not to point out this obvious lie and instead calmly asked, “It is cold, is it not? Should we maybe go somewhere else?”

But the Miqo’te remained silent. His ears stubbornly folded back, he avoided Rael’s gaze.

“Would you at least step away from the ledge a bit? Please, A’vi. Let us talk.”, Rael pleaded and offered a hand for him to take.

“About what?”, he asked with a strange voice, unusually serious for him. “There is nothing left to talk about…”

Rael could feel how they were slowly loosing him. But the right words didn’t want to appear in their mind. Only panicked yells and pleas.

“You cannot do this…”

“Why not?”, he asked sadly. “No one needs me anyway…”

“I need you, A’vi.”, Rael almost yelled.

But the Miqo’te shook his head and looked the other way again.

“No you don’t. I’m just a burden for you! This has to end before anyone else gets hurt…”

“None of this was your fault!”, Rael exclaimed, the despair all too audible in their voice.

A’viloh, with his back turned towards Rael, made a sound the Viera could not quite distinguish, a sound somewhere between a sharp laugh and a desperate sob. “Sure, keep telling yourself that. Quite a lot of horrible coincidences, don’t you think?…”

The way he said that made Rael angry. They knew that yelling at him probably would only make things worse but before they could stop themself the words were already out.

“You have got to be kidding me! You are such an idiot, A’vi! An idiot and a coward! Don’t you dare to tell me this is for other people‘s sake when in reality you are just too scared! Too scared of moving on and too scared of getting hurt again! You have not understood a single thing Haurchefant was trying to teach you. He wanted you to be happy, A’vi! Happy!! Do you honestly think he would want this? That any of the people you think you failed would want this? Are you too blind to see that their sacrifices were made so you could live? That they sacrificed their lives for you because they loved you? And now you egoistically want to throw your live away just because it hurts?!”

As a heavy silence settled around them, Rael already felt that this had been too much. With a new wave of tears welling up in his eyes A’viloh turned around and stared at Rael with a peculiar expression. A mixture of shame and anger for being called out like this but also hurt and a certain kind of stubbornness too.

“Maybe!”, he sobbed and finally admitted the truth. To Rael and to himself. “Yes, maybe I am scared! Maybe I am just a weak little coward! Excuse me for not being as clever and brave as you! But nothing you say will change that it’s not fair that they are dead and I am not! That whenever I look back all I can feel is the pain of what I lost. And it will also not change that I could never be happy knowing that all of this was my fault!”

Rael felt like they had messed this up entirely. Their eyes started to burn as they stepped closer reaching out for him. “I am sorry… A’vi… I did not mean…”

“No.”, A’viloh replied gloomily and was about to turn towards the ledge again. “I am sorry…”

“Wait!”, Rael suddenly yelled and then said something they had not expected to speak aloud themself.

“Haurchefant’s death was my fault, not yours!”

A’viloh froze.

This was Rael’s last chance, they knew this. Maybe A’viloh would hate them, maybe Rael’s magic would forever be lost if they broke this one rule. They did not know what would happen and they did not care. Not as long as it possibly could save A’viloh.

“I knew it would happen.”

“What?”, the Miqo’te muttered confused. “What do you mean?”

“It means that I lied to you.”, Rael admitted guiltily. “…and that we need to talk. Please, A’vi, step away from that ledge and let us talk.”

Visibly shaken by this confession A’viloh furrowed his brows. “No, you’re just trying to… Why would you lie to me?… I don’t understand any of this…”

With one last deep breath Rael finally revealed the truth. “I have visions of the future. I knew Haurchefant was in danger because I saw it. I saw it and I still failed to stop it. So instead of blaming yourself for his death, you should better blame me.”

Like a lost child A’viloh simply stood there entirely puzzled, like all of the sudden he found that nothing he believed made sense anymore and he didn’t know what to do or say next.

“Visions? Of the future?…”, he repeated as if these words lacked any meaning to him.

“This is why I knew you were here too.”, Rael confirmed as calmy as they could, while their heart was hammering in their chest. In a desperate attempt to convince him they stretched out a hand one more time. “Please, let me explain everything, A’vi…”

For a horribly long moment nothing happened at all. Everything was silent and motionless like frozen in time. Like fate had not quite decided yet which path it would choose.

Then hesitantly the Miqo’te made a step towards Rael and took their hand. Immediately he was pulled a few steps away from the cloudy abyss while Rael wrapped their arms around his body with a relieved sigh. A’viloh neither returned Rael’s embrace nor rejected it.

As Rael finally let go of him they looked him in the eyes and said, “I owe you an apology.”

“First of all you owe me an explanation.”, A’viloh replied blankly and Rael nodded in agreement.

Without letting go of his hand Rael talked for a long time while A’viloh just wordlessly listened. About how Rael had always heard the whispers of Golmore, about the visions that had led them on their journey, and finally about the omen they had seen but not taken serious enough before Haurchefant’s death. Rael did not try to justify their mistakes but at least they wanted to explain that their powers weren’t properly working anymore this far away from home and also why they hadn’t told him all of this a long time ago.

To Rael’s surprise there was no sign at all to signal they had broken the most sacred rule there was for the Viera. No sharp wind to bite them and no thunder striking down to punish them. Everything just felt the same as before. A’viloh on the other hand…

The thoughts racing in his head were plainly visible in his eyes. How his mind tried to make sense of all of this. “You mean you knew that all of this would happen before it even did?…”

“Not everything…”, Rael tried to correct him but A’viloh didn’t let them. There suddenly was something in his eyes, in his voice. Not exactly anger, but hurt? Disappointment?

“But you knew from the very beginning what kind of journey this was. That it would be dangerous and that people would get hurt. And you asked me to help you anyway…”

“Yes but -“

A’viloh’s ears folded back again and he almost hissed as he interrupted Rael.

“No! You knew all along that I don’t belong here. That I never belonged here. That I never wanted any of this! All I ever wanted-”

His voice broke off as he made another of these sounds that was half sob and half laugh.

Rael would be lying to themself if they said all of this had never occurred to them. Maybe they had just chosen to ignore it. But now that Rael thought about it, it made perfect sense. When they had seen him among the people of Silver Bazaar A’viloh had looked happy. As happy as Rael had rarely seen him at any other occasion. Had they possible demanded too much from him? Had he only tagged along for their sake when in reality all he wanted was to go back to a more peaceful life?

Rael didn’t know what to say. There was nothing they could say or do that would make him feel better. They just sadly looked at him as he shook his head and said, “I thought you were my friend…”

“But I am…”, Rael affirmed while also understanding how betrayed he probably felt.

“No.”, the Miqo’te said sharply. For another moment he looked at Rael, his expression full of disappointment. Then he turned around and walked away towards the lower parts of the city.

“Wait! A’vi!”, Rael called while fear rose up inside them again. “Where are you going?”

“Back to where I should have stayed before you talked me into all of this nonsense!”, he hissed without stopping or turning around.

Then he was gone and Rael was left alone.

They hated how hurt he had looked.

But they rather knew he hated them but was somewhere safe, instead of dead.

[aroaessidhe]

2024 reads / storygraph

Bitterthorn

gothic fairytale

set in an imaginary German town where every generation, the monstrous witch in the woods steals someone away to be her companion, never seen again

follows the daughter of the duke, lonely and grieving her mother, who offers herself up as the witch’s newest companion

she assumes she’s destined for something horrible, but is mostly left alone in the old castle, and tries to find out more about the mysterious witch & what happened to the previous companions

eerie and atmospheric

[happi-tree]

⚔️👑 shield and scepter 👑⚔️

Howdy, y'all! So my wonderful mutual @raemeh did this really cool fanart of my royalty Swiftli au (the fic for which can be found here), and I had some little design ideas about them in my wips, so I thought I'd post the two of them here! Thank you so much to everyone who's enjoyed it <333

[adhdgoberrrrr]

Tags (I can say I need tags right?)

This blog is about a story that I am in the process of writing so most if not everything is about that

The story is called Taiji it is a post-apocalyptic fantasy future story that follows the character Ame. Ame wants to stop ki (a demon lord) from taking over the world and farming humans; but he also doesn’t want the Breakers to win. The breakers are a corporation of humans that want to destroy all demons and return the world to what it was before them.

okay so Taiji art is tagged

and the Taiji chapters are tagged https://www.tumblr.com/tagged/Taiji%20chapters

My Ao3:

My Royal Road:

Taiji is a fantasy/post apocalyptic story. I have tried my best to add death to these characters and to the world , but this is where everything is (so far)

Oh wait I do have a Pinterest, i'm not as active there with the story posting but I post links to my ao3. Pinterest:

YouTube:

If you wanna join the Taiji audio we’d love to have you aboard! Just click Here!

Stuff about Me!

I am an INTP+J and a Scorpio. I LOVE music, well basically any kinda form of art. I am kinda a jack of all trades when it comes to nerd stuff lol. I promise I'm working on the stuff I'm just slow:'). But yeah it’s nice to have you here for the ride! Again this blog is mostly about Taiji so if you are coming from a different project of mine posted somewhere else there’s probably not gonna be a whole bunch of stuff about it here.

[lesbiansanemi]

So hard being a sukuna enjoyer and trying to find fics about him because you get one of two options

1. God awful out of character reader insert porn where you’re his uwu submissive (normally terrified of him) concubine or some shit but GASSSSPPPP he ACTUALLY cares about you and is soft for YOU ONLY and he wants you to GET PREGNANT with HIS HEIR oh my GOD

Or

2. God awful out of character suku.fushi or suku.ita where the plot is like what if sukuna was a MAFIA BOSS and he got OBSESSED WITH THEM and KIDNAPPED them and also it was INCEST and OMEGAVERSE and they call him DADDY while he FUCKS THEM INTO THE MATTRESS and talks about their PUSSY the WHOLE time

And both make me want to throw up in my mouth and momentarily wish I had the power to arbitrarily ban ppl from posting on the internet

[whoblewboobear]

At this point Wednesday and Thursday are the highlights of my week like I’m vibrating with excitement when I know Wednesday at like 7 something I’ll be sitting down to giggle at my favorite show like I- 🤧

I don’t always watch d20 seasons as they’re airing but for fantasy high, it gets so woven into my schedule when a new one drops 👏 like not to get super sentimental (I’m absolutely going to in a read more. Plus the season is ending soon and I’m emo about it but also just excited in general to get all the answers) but this season really means a lot to me. Absolutely none of them will see this (thank god) but the intrepid heroes & BLeeM mean so much to me. They made a show that is so funny and beautiful and kind and so stupid at its core and it just goes to show how lovely they are. The impact they’ve made on the actual play community is so huge. For me a lot of actual play was very intimidating to get into because of huge backlogs or the kinds of stories being told weren’t for me but goddamn, d20 just hits on so many levels. In part due to the storytelling and also just holy shit everyone at the table shows up and cares so much about who they’re playing and their place in the world and the story they’re helping be told. It’s just 🤧💖 I hope one day I’m half the dnd player that Brennan, Emily, Lou, Murph, Siobhan, Zac, and Ally are. They truly inspire me so much.

-

-

-

**TW For SA, trauma, mental health + personal shit etc under the cut**

I stopped watching d20 for a long while. Give or take a year or two? I know it was around the zoom season era. Me and A guy I was really close friends with bonded over dnd and d20 and it was one of the main things we had in common. The night he SA’d me we were watching FH S1 from the beginning. And I think that kinda.. like I didn’t watch d20 because it brought up a lot of thoughts of him and that night and just so much ptsd.

D20 was my favorite form of escapism during hard times and it really sucked to lose that for so long. When d20 Junior year was announced I decided it was time to get back into the show because I missed it and I loved it and I couldn’t let him make me so scared that I never went back to what gave me so much joy. I introduced the show to him in the first place, I could reclaim.

I watched freshman year after I dropped out of art school because my parents and I couldn’t afford another loan and I was really lost. It took my mind off a lot of it thankfully.

Sophomore year aired when I started going to community college. I had a night-time psych class that would end about half an hour before the streams would start so it gave me motivation to get through it because I had something to look forward to after. Now junior year is airing while I’m dealing with a lot of health stuff + depression + job stress (now that I write it all out, both college stresses passed and I did end up getting a decent-ish, albeit very shitty job in graphic design, so I know there’s light at the end of the tunnel so to speak, this’ll pass)

I don’t know if they’ll ever do a senior year/graduation season but if they do, I’ll be there still excited and brimming with joy and anticipation for more d20 Wednesdays to come. 💖

[rocktis]

fanon my beloved vs. fanon my beloathed

beloved - zack's nicknames for cloud (spikey, sunshine, cloudy, etc) - kunsel has hacked into shinra's database and could cause massive damage to the company on a whim by tapping a few keys beloathed - "zack's so stupid lol he's such a himbo" - "cloud's just a cocky asshole who doesn't care about anything but money and himself"

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

hi im back with more Out Of Context lines from my outlines/snippets that i find mildly entertaining when going back through it all: Fantasy Au Edition!

[whelmed-justwhelmed]

Thoughts about Vincent Valentine and some of his struggles

Some miscellaneous notes before the actual substance of this post.

Loosely inspired by / based on this post, might suggest reading it before my own for a better understanding of the perspectives of the ideas in this post, though not strictly necessary as I think it’s still comprehensible without doing so. This post was made to my understanding + my current interpretation + what I can remember of things at the moment. Anyways here’s my maybe somewhat rambling thoughts, this is what I’ve got thus far. ( @sephirthoughts ask and you shall receive.)

After seeing and being inspired by the previously mentioned post I got to thinking about what I felt to be an interesting character development opportunity for Vincent. The basic premise being how Vincent’s situation, mostly in relation to himself and some of the things that have happened to him in the past, could potentially improve if he could at least start to reconcile his views of things compared to the objective realities. I feel like a step like this could help him to have a healthier perspective and at least somewhat improve his general quality of life.

Now it’s known how feelings such as guilt and regret among other such ones weigh heavily on him, of which a significant amount stem from his time as a bodyguard for the scientists of shinra manor. Although I do acknowledge these things aren’t the only ones that weigh on him and that my proposal of reconciliation is not the only thing that could be done to help his situation, much of his suffering specifically does seem to directly or indirectly stem from that time, his perspective of it, and of how it all relates to him. So with that perspective in mind, I think it’s a good place to start (at least for this hypothetical Vincent character development scenario).

Vincent is the sort where I want to (respectfully) gently grab him by the shoulders and shake a bit going, “It’s not your fault, it wasn’t your fault, it wasn’t your responsibility, you did about as much as you could for the situation, It. Wasn’t. Your. Fault.” Sadly though it seems (at least to me I feel) he’s generally not at a point where such a message would really get through to him in any meaningful or lasting way, so then that led me to wonder, what sorts of things might get him to that point? And what would the process look like?

I feel like he would probably need some sort of external prompting to actually properly start the process and that said process would be a gradual one. Not entirety sure how the prompting would start and be sustained though. Perhaps for example as something to start with, something like the moment in the lament of the damned side quest in rebirth where there’s brief vague discussion of the manor scientists and Barrett expresses how he thinks Lucrecia must not have been all that much better than Hojo causing Vincent to get defensive about her. A gradual process of stuff that challenges him like others questioning things and being faced with tangible evidence of the past, something that challenges him and he actually starts to stop and more seriously consider that perspective.

Here’s where the basic premise as previously mentioned really comes in. I feel Vincent’s situation could potentially improve if he could start to reconcile his perspective and feelings regarding what happened then and the objective reality of it. Challenges and consideration could lead to some acknowledgment that those two perspectives can coexist with each other, that he doesn’t have to choose one over the other.

In regards to Lucrecia, while not always exactly the most pleasant way to think of her, he can still feel fondly towards her and her memory while also thinking a bit more critically about how her actions and the choices she’s made have had serious and more often than not harmful consequences, especially about the harm done to him directly or indirectly. He could still care about her, albeit a likely less idealized version of her, and hold her a bit more accountable for the harm she’s caused. In regards to Vincent himself, it could significantly improve his overall view of himself and perhaps by extension general quality of life. Potential benefits being things like generally improving his mental state, the more specific parts of that could be things like better self worth, less self loathing, at least a bit of self forgiveness, generally starting to be able to take some of the blame off of himself. As such it could help him start to recognize he’s largely not responsible or at fault for what happened (and that he was a victim of the circumstances at that point more than anything?). It could help facilitate him being able to cope with it all a bit better, perhaps even heal the mental / emotional wounds a bit.

All that said, I highly doubt all this would be easy for him to do, I think he’s going to have to struggle for it. Like I’ve said, I think it would be a slow and gradual process that challenges him to think more critically and change his perspective to eventually at least start to understand that he’s not the one in the wrong, such a process would take time and effort. It would also involve a lot of difficult emotions, what emotions, in what context, and how they come up, I don’t really have as much of an answer for at the moment as I feel it depends on how one would imagine the reconciliation process and things as a whole would play out. I’m not necessarily saying I want to see him break down or something like that per se, but I would like for him to have proper opportunities to be more openly emotional about it all. For him to have chances to be vulnerable and be treated with care in return. (And if that means having him break down then by all means let him break down.)

I do want to say that I don’t expect such a process to solve everything with him or that I would expect him to stop being upset about all that’s happened or otherwise take away what makes his story his (etc.), just that ultimately the idea is all about getting him to a point of having a bit more of a balance of his feelings and viewpoint. Bittersweet, but hopeful.

Hypothetically, if I were to try and place the idea where I think it could work well game timeline wise, I would place it around Dirge of Cerberus and / or post Dirge. I think it would go well then for the subject matter being covered, could work well thematically, and for potential opportunities for him to actually have the time and space to think and process (etc.). (Admittedly I think that putting it sometime around DoC is the obvious answer and that it could work at other points in time as well if it was done thoughtfully.)

I think that’s about all I have on this right now.

[avirael]

Peace of Mind

There was something incredibly soothing about the daily business of the Silver Bazaar.

The same familiar friendly faces, simple mundane tasks he could help with, no unforseeable occurrences disturbing the peace. A’viloh loved this place and it’s people from the bottom of his heart. They had taken him in the way he was, like he had always been one of them, and he knew they would always welcome him back with open arms. And this was exactly what the townsfolk and Kikipu had done when he had appeared not only without announcement but also visibly shaken at that.

A’viloh had pretty much fled Ishgard. Hadn’t even bothered to return to his room at the inn. There was nothing there that belonged to him. The few things he possessed and wasn’t carrying with him still were at the room in Fortemps Manor and he certainly wouldn’t return there ever again. As late as it was he had gone straight to the place where the Haillenartes had accommodated Cid and his team for the time he spent working at the Skysteel Manufactury.

“A’viloh?”, the man had asked with a yawn, visibly torn from his sleep, as he opened the door.

“You have to take me to Ul’dah.”, the Miqo’te had demanded without any word of greeting, much to Cid’s confusion. Of course he had tried to question him but A’viloh hadn’t let him and in the end he had agreed to have Biggs and Wedge fly him to his destination early the next morning.

The few hours it took for the sun to rise he had spent at the chocobo stables. Yugiri had taught him enough so he was able to sneak in there unseen and so he spent the night cuddled close to the soft warm plumage of the black chocobo Haurchefant had gifted him, silently crying about how lost and alone he suddenly felt. The bird had made a low, almost purring, sound and nuzzled his head with her beak until A’viloh wrapped his arms around her long neck and buried his face in her dark feathers.

The airship departed as the sun rose and after wondering for a bit wether or not he should, he decided to take Chloé with him. The chocobo was rightfully his, so the caretaker at the stable did not protest, and yet it somehow felt like theft to A’viloh. But the bird seemed quite attached to him and for the Miqo’te she was a welcome companion now that he traveled alone again. He had left his other chocobo at the stables in Ul’dah on the day of the banquet and there he still was right now, as Pipin had assured him. A’viloh hoped that the two of them would get along well and also that they might be useful to help with tasks at the Bazaar.

The flight had been uneventful and quite fast for the distance. It wasn’t even noon, when he thanked Biggs and Wedge, who planned to stock up on a few materials before flying back, and said his farewell to them. Then A’viloh got his second chocobo from the stables of the Immortal Flames and soon was out of the buzzling city and only a short distance away from the next best thing he still had to a home.

As he slowly rode towards the small settlement he felt such a strong feeling of familiarity that it made tears appear in the corners of his eyes again. He had not noticed how tensed up he had been until now all the pressure fell off of his shoulders at once.

At first all the people curiously eyed the two tall chocobos before they quickly realised who traveled with them. As a few of them stopped in their tracks to greet him, the news of his arrival spread like a wildfire among the townsfolk. No one had expected him and his sudden appearance was like a special happening for this quiet small village. It only took a few minutes until an excited voice hurried closer and made A’viloh instinctively turn his head.

“A’viloh? Oh, it’s so nice to see you!”, the lavender haired Lalafell exclaimed as she ran towards him. Blinking away tears A’viloh knelt down to greet the woman with a smile on his face and a tight embrace. “Kikipu, I’ve missed you so much.”

Happily she smiled at him before observing the two chocobo’s and looking around for a bit. “Are you on your own this time? Where is Rael?”

A’viloh’s expression visibly soured. Like a sulky small child he claimed, “I don’t know and I don’t care.”

For a few seconds the Lalafell quizzically stared at him. While it would have been just like her to scold him for such behaviour right away or at least pry the truth out of him, she must have decided to take a more careful approach to figure out what was wrong with him. Such a sudden visit, all things considered, and at that alone and despite his best efforts to hide it in a quite desolate shape, he should have expected for Kikipu to see through it all.

“You look horrible, my boy!”, she stated instead of insisting on the subject of Rael any longer and worriedly grabbed one of his hands with her tiny ones.

“I am fine.”, A’viloh tried to assure her but she simply made an incredulous face. “You look tired, A’vi!”

He shrugged. “I am…”

“Outright exhausted!”, she added. “Have you been eating properly. Come! I’m going to make you some food.”

“I am not hungry, but thank you.”, he claimed although he had barely eaten anything since days.

“No, no!”, Kikipu protested and pulled at his arm. “Come on! Tea and food for you! And then some rest! There’s still plenty of time for talking once you recovered!”

There was no arguing against her. There really never was. And so in a way everything was just like it always had been here at the Silver Bazaar. If there was any place where he would be able to find peace, A’viloh thought, it would be here.

Without too much protest he let the Lalafell woman coddle him for a bit until the accumulated tiredness of the last week overwhelmed him. As his eyes fell shut, after drinking tea with Kikipu in a comfortable sunny spot, a deep dreamless sleep finally embraced him.

***

To A’viloh’s surprise the first few days at the Bazaar were incredibly busy. Everyone wanted to hear from the faraway city he had visited and the other curious places he had seen. A lot of the townsfolk also asked for his help with some work or transporting thing back and forth to and from the crossing or city. He had been grateful for the fact that he could help at all and also keep himself busy.

All this time he had tried not to think too much about everything unpleasant that had happened lately and especially not about the way he and Rael had parted ways. And for a while this had worked perfectly fine. But the more time he spent here and the more he settled back down into this peaceful daily life, just as a certain calmness slowly returned to him his thoughts began to wander. Back to the events of the last weeks and months. Back to the people he had simply left behind in Ishgard. Not only Rael, but also Tataru and Alphinaud to whom he hadn’t even given a single word of excuse or goodbye.

But especially his thought returned back to that night where he had stood only one step away from the abyss, his heart and mind overwhelmed by grief and pain and fear. He still felt all of that, still understood what had led him there to that ledge and yet thinking about how all of this could have ended, now that he was here among the people dear to him, deeply shocked him.

If Rael hadn’t been there… Maybe the Viera had been right with everything they had said. As painful as it was to admit this, but maybe he had lied to himself all along. Of course he had gotten a little bit stronger in the last year but apart from this he still was the same person. Although he had tried to become someone else, deep down he still was just terrified little A’viloh pretending to be alright. Pretending to be brave and pretending to want a new life for himself. Pretending to everybody and himself too.

While in reality he still hadn’t made his peace with everything that had happened before he had even washed ashore at the Silver Bazaar, he had gone to Ul’dah wanting to make up for all the pain he had caused. Wanting to finally return some of the goodness that had been given to him by Kikipu and the others. Wanting to help people, who needed help like he had needed it.

As he had tried so desperately to be something more than he had always been, to finally be useful, ignoring the protest inside him, he had not even noticed how he slowly accumulated even more weight on his shoulders. More pain and grieve. More guilt and self-hate. With every little failure and loss he had encountered along the way. Instead of healing he had pushed himself closer to the abyss step by step.

Maybe it was the best, for himself and for everyone, if he just admitted that he was not made for such a life. Maybe it was for the best if he just stayed here, taking some simple jobs here and there, not much more than was necessary to keep himself and the people here alive and happy. A quiet uneventful life.

And yet…

With each passing day, he found himself wondering more often. Not in the busy hours but instead in the silent moments. When he sat down at noon to have lunch in the shadow of a canvas awning, when he went to bed and could not sleep until late at night, when he opened the windows early in the morning and felt the salty wind rolling in from the sea pulling at his hair.

Then he wondered. About all the unfinished business. A whole city in turmoil. All the people he had left behind there.

Diligent, caring Tataru, who had always remained optimistic and cheerful despite everything.

Young Alphinaud, who himself was struggling and yet tried so hard to improve and make up for his mistakes.

Rael.

A’viloh was not sure anymore if he knew who Rael was or if he ever had known. But he knew Rael had always been at his side this whole time. Whenever he had felt bad Rael had been there for him and he also knew he owed the viera his life multiple times already. So did it really matter that Rael had kept this secret from him? He had known all along that something was bothering Rael. He had known that here were things they could not talk about. An he also knew that this hadn’t been easy for Rael either.

Again and again he wondered. What were all of them doing now? What were they thinking of him? And more often than every other question: Were they alright? Or maybe in danger?

Silently he kept asking himself this over and over again. One day, after he had picked up a delivery at the Quicksand, he even wondered if he should walk over to the Hall of Flames and see if anyone there knew about current happenings in Ishgard. As his chocobo kwehed impatiently, A’viloh had vehemently shaken his head and told himself that Kikipu was waiting for him and that everything in Ishgard would be perfectly fine now that he was no longer there to make everything worse.

And still the thoughts and worries returned day after day. Until one morning he stared out of the window with a vacant expression, entirely lost in thought. Kikipu stepped beside him, a mug in hand, and looked at him for a moment. “What‘s wrong?”, she finally asked.

Her voice startled him. Nervously he continued to put some things into a small backpack, readying himself for another trip to the city. ”Nothing. I was just distracted for a moment…”

“I see.”, with a stern expression the Lalafell put down the mug and placed her hands at her hips. “And will you finally tell me now what you are doing here?”

“What I am doing here?”, the Miqo’te repeated as if he didn’t understand the question. “I am supposed to take these things to Ul’dah of course and buy supplies instead.”

The small lavender-haired woman didn’t move one bit and just kept seriously staring at him. “Don’t play dumb with me, A’vi. I meant why you returned here and are staying so long, while your friends are still in Ishgard.”

“I told you I am not needed in Ishgard any longer. You almost sound like you want me gone…”, he answered, keeping his gaze fixed on his bag instead of risking to look the Lalafell in the eyes.

“A’viloh…”, Kikipu said with a sigh. “My dear, you know that you are always welcome here. But we also both know, that you haven’t been telling me the whole truth. So you better spit it out now!”

With furrowed brows A’viloh looked at the small woman, who in return stared at him with a serious unwavering determination on her face. Yes, there really was no arguing against Kikipu. Yet alone lying to her.

“Something horrible happened.”, he admitted finally before adding, “And I fought with Rael.”

To be honest he was not even sure if this were the right words to describe what had happened. Probably not. And yet it felt like it.

“Oh no… Why didn’t you tell me ealier?”, Kikipu asked with worry in her voice.

“I didn’t want to bother you…”, A’viloh explained and while this wasn’t a lie, in reality he had just not wanted to tell her the whole truth. He still didn’t want to. How where you supposed to tell anyone you loved that you almost threw yourself off a cliff anyway? Neither did it feel right to him to just retell the secret Rael had kept so carefully, even though by doing so they had lied to him.

The Lalafell sounded and looked a bit reproachful, when she addressed him again. “You are never bothering me. Please, sit down and tell me what happened.”

A’viloh shrugged uncomfortably and suddely pretended to be in ahurry. “Maybe later, I should really go now…“

But Kikipu wasn’t going to let him evade her this easily. „Uh-uh, the delivery can wait! Now, stop running away and tell me what’s wrong.“

Stop running away.

Somehow the way she said that reminded him of Rael. Running away… Was this really what he was doing?

With a sigh A‘viloh put down his bag again.

Maybe he could tell her at least a bit. Maybe it would help somehow…

[boxwinebaddie]

hi uncle nina! sorry if this is kinda overbearing, but you havent posted anything today so i just wanna check in and make sure youre doing okay! <3

oh my god, sweetheart!!! this is not overbearing AT ALL! this is extremely thoughtful and makes me feel extremely validated. <3

i'm sorry for causing concern, but ty for being concerned about me.

because the school year is coming to a close, things around me at work have been pretty intense, so i've been tossed around like a ragdoll the past week and haven't had much time to write as a result. i also haven't been sleeping very well and rush a lot in the mornings, so i've forgotten to take my mood stabilizer the past couple of days which makes me v sluggish, zombie-ish and unpleasant in general. :/

...when i am like that, as a weird way of sparing you, i suppose, i try not to post on here too much because it feels quite shitty indeed for you to get a notification for my blog just to watch me bitch n moan.

however, i have taken my medication today and feel bad for fumbling kyle week...as we know i'm not really good at holding myself accountable or making deadlines. oddly enough, it's not that i don't want to answer my questions, it's just that other than not being able to really find the time recently, i just can't find the right...words?

( this ask is long and irrelevant, but read if you wish. ilysm. )

or, rather, i don't feel knowledgeable enough the subjects to answer? specifically in the areas of my tsot/tfbw styles and ncuniverses, i feel a little insecure because i don't know sp or the games as well as many other people do, so i'm trying to speed watch episodes/watch speed runs of the games online so i can at least keep some canon intact?

i also am finding that creating and understanding how high fantasy universes work is...difficult? lmao? also because i did crazy stuff with mutations and science and politics in my tfbw ncuniverse, that's also complicated and out of my wheelhouse...tldr: i have big ideas, but i'm not very good at backing them in fact or doing analytical stuff.

but...iiiiii need to, lmao. mental illness, but if i make a universe it has to be fully realized, it has to all make as much sense as possible, echo the canon, enhance it, feel real and be fluid...so if i'm not around too much it's because i'm trying to bolster myself with my sp knowledge ( ik, i'm a fake fan ) and watch/read/research high fantasy concepts and superhero/scientific fiction/dystopian stuff...so if anyone has any recommendations for me to watch or learn from in those realms, i'd appreciate it. again, this is intense...but i care a lot about my craft.

and specifically crafting something worthy of all of you, that makes sense, lives and breathes, reflects the show we love & is interesting.

ANYWAYS!!!! with that said, i got a cool ask about whether or not i have a gunslinger kyle? which? not yet? BUT YOU'RE A GENIUS BABY I AM SOOOOO ON IT!!! please let me cook and watch some things because actually, oh my god, i am very down. i'll update you. i might make a board to gather ideas, omg, omg, it'll be SPICY.

i got an ask about princess kylie, which, bless you, i am also still developing her character, i am going to pour over the books, watch some GOT, do some mapping out, watch some intricate dnd play throughs...and have some answers for you very soon: hang on, baby.

( she's little, bitchy, prissy and does need to be babysat, i'm afraid. )

got some on jersey i'm excited about! sorry for writing that ask meme about the sour skittles like that, again, writing has been trying for me lately and i had a concept that i wanted to share but wasn't sure how to express that. if you guys are alright with getting my asks in the form of notes some times i would appreciate it! anyways, keep your eyes out for some of those...if kyle week runs into next week, sorry.

idk...this is so long. all this to say...i'm really sorry? i haven't been a very solid creator lately, but i'm a little unstable rn. but i am working on it and i hope to be back on the horse by tonight and share my notes at least and show you guys how my brain is working.

in the mean time, please direct as many questions as you would like in the direction of riley, teri and ana who not only are epic writers but have been an epic support system/helping me get back into things.

thank you for caring, thank you for reading...keeping up with this blog and the questions and creating constantly is sometimes challenging, but very rewarding. i promise that i am not neglecting my asks or all of you because i don't care, its actually because i care very much and only want to give you stuff that is awesome and cool and well researched. so, again, just give me a second to get my barings and while it kind of eats at my bad bpd brain i might try and share stuff with you guys that's half baked because the feedback might help.

tldr: i love you, this made no sense, i'm a mess, but i am fine.

miss you and love you. happy kyle week.

-uncle nina

[spider-man-2o99]

I JUST REALIZED YOUR MIGUEL DRAWING WITH HIM SAYING “i becamed… a vampire” IS CANON NOW! (ignoring reality) that’s exactly what he told gwen when they first met that’s why she’s introducing him as one to everyone else

dbjkbdjCKBJKDBJCDBCJCDJKJKDBCB GOD.,,, miguel voice okay shes like 16 what is the least-traumatic way to phrase the events that transpired when i got Spidered for someone who is both a Stranger and an Infant. uh . shock. okay. so, heyyy, tell me, gwen, have you ever, uh. ever heard of Those Feratu-