#Ifrit has been on my mind so much lately | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

skele-bunny · 4 months ago

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I don't mind not being on anon :) can you tell me more about Calida, specifically while Dew is still carrying? How did the pack at the time handle that? Could we also get Ifrit reacting to Dew telling him he's expecting? Thank you!

Thank you! For sure I can give you that :D

(CW - Lightly implied abuse and pregnancy from sa, but this is a fluff post!) Aether/Dew/Mountain ftw

Super long post!

Oh boy, oh boy... When Dewdrop found out a few weeks before the start of tour let alone just how far along he was? A fucking MESS!!! He had been nesting so much lately, more emotional and hungry, cramping n puking all the time, and just so damn tired when he finally caved in to go see Phil. Dew has always been tiny, neglecting his health and never eating. Honestly, when he started gaining weight, he thought it was because of Mountain's cooking! He doesn't show whatsoever besides a singular bump that makes him look bloated constantly. He's just rubbing over his bump with nothing but fear. How is he going to tell Papa? The pack? Ifrit?

It's so unusual for Dew to go into Ifrit's room on his own accord, gently knocking and looking at his packmate so nervously. Sitting down next to him and just unsure what to say, before just out right-

"I'm pregnant."

Which is instantly met back, "How do you know it's mine?"

"You're the only one that's touched me in the past six months..."

Ifrit just shrugs. "So what are we gonna do about it?"

And it's right there that something inside Dew just snaps into place. He's thanking his unholiness it's just one and not an entire clutch that many water ghouls get, just nodding and whispering. "I'll handle it." And that's good enough for Ifrit. So Dew excuses himself, and goes to Aether who's of course with Mountain and Zephyr. "I'm pregnant, I'm not changing my mind, and you're all dealing with it."

They just frog blink before Zephyr is the first one to start clapping, squealing. "Yes! I knew it! I told you he smelled different!"

Dew didn't even realize his hands were clenched, but seeing their happy faces and even Mountain coming over to butt horns made him release, exhaling and completely taken off guard by it. He just starts bawling and now they're concerned, bringing him in and cuddling close, shaking his head and just clinging to the nearest one.

They honestly take it really, really well... Dotting over him, cranking their instincts up and starting to get things ready, even scrolling through websites for a baby registry; things they need and what Dew wants. Papa finds out next day, and he's the exact same, just jumping up and down at the fact his ghoul is going to be expecting. Papa Terzo sets things moving since he's already so far along, they gotta rush and-

....Oh fuck. Tour.

Now they're stressing out, and of course Ifrit is no help (unless Papa is around.) That man is pissed off when Terzo tells him he'll be in charge of the majority of Dew's equipment with Mountain. Being on the bus is even worse, but they're positive they'll be back before the baby pops! Settling him up nice and comfy in his bunk, even Zephyr giving Dew his duvet since he'll definitely need it more. He's not moving so much on stage, his Bass rested so comfortably to protect his bump.

It's after a show where they're all high fiving when Dew just gasps, a sudden stream going down his legs and he's just in full panic mode. "My water broke."

Mountain has never moved so fast before, scooping Dew up and running back to the bus - Terzo telling at the stage hands to get everything while they run off. Ifrit stays behind. Lucifer must've felt pity as thank FUCK it was the last show before a three day break as they traveled across the states. But now Dew is in his instincts, none of these ghouls or Papa know what the fuck they're doing, and now he's scared as much as them. He's placed in a nest in the back of the bus and he's just screaming at them to get out, even throwing his shoe at Papa while he tries closing the door.

He's on his own at this part. Naked waist down, nails digging into the leather couch, huffing and trying to soothe himself. There's no urge to push yet, so he's trying to calm down. Dew rubbing his much larger bump, purring and singing at the same time. Even after they're finished packing up, Dew hasn't gone in just yet, and refusing for anyone to come into the lounge besides Zephyr quickly rolling back a bottle of water. Papa hasn't let the bus move an INCH.

It's around 2 in the morning when they wake up to Dew's screaming, now wide awake and grimacing as it sounds like nothing but agony and they can't... Do anything. They hear sobbing, curses in Ghoulish, and a particular rattling scream that's meant for luring prey into the depths that Aether ends up hitting his head on his bunk trying to follow it before sense is literally knocked in... Then quiet besides the high little cries of a kit.

Dew hasn't stopped crying, but reaching down to and holding this bloody little girl that's still attached to him, snuggling against her cheek and starting to groom. He's an absolute mess both mentally and physically, not giving a shit as he's covered in blood and his own mess.

It's later in the afternoon when they can hear little chirps. Specifically calling for them. Mountain peeks in first and Dew is just sitting up, skin-to-skin with this little blob of black. He holds a finger to his lips and ushers them close, and that blob of black quickly becomes a little girl with black hair, identical to Dew's. Zephyr starts bawling like a baby, Aether and Mountain in absolutely shock, Terzo rambling as quietly as possible about how "he can't believe this! A baby kit! I've never seen one before besides pictures Sister had!"

He opens his arms a bit more to show her off, his smile never leaving. "This is Calida..."

Aether tries leaning closer and that's when Dew hisses, bringing her back. He shows his palms and is apologizing, going down to his knees with the others at a comfortable distance. Then, he's back to showing her.

"She's so small..." Zephyr is just trying to wipe their eyes.

"I was only 8 months..."

They're just looking in awe at this tiny being that gets latched to Dew's chest, holding back their purrs as they can see her little tail just curled around Dew's finger.

"She's a fire ghoul!" Aether chirps and it clicks. "Let me get Ifrit-"

"No!!" And they stop, even Terzo goes still. "No, I don't want him back here, don't you dare let him back here."

While their elements are different and one even a human, they know better than to go against a newly parents wishes. Once again, instincts to the max. Ifrit glanced back when the bus started moving and Mountain has never growled so hard since being topside, snapping his jaw and looming up. Ifrit got the hint. Dew quietly asks Mountain to help him get dressed, and is the one to carry Dew in the hotel when they got to their destination, little Calida hidden away and tucked into Dew's jacket. Mountain is just holding them so securely, and in return is given the ability to scent on Calida, his eyes dilated and his tail hidden in his pants can't stop wagging.

Dew feels comfortable enough to be bunked with the earth ghoul, Aether peeking in a while later to drop off food and GOD BELOW... Dew is tearing it up, licking his fingers and moaning as somehow this cheap fast food now tastes like a 5 star Michelin meal. Even Mountain loses his burger with no complaints. After some more heavy nesting and Mountain helping him shower while Terzo watches Calida, he's snuggled in the nest and feels safe enough to sleep with the promise Mountain won't.

In the other room, Aether is just projecting himself in Dew's room to look at both of them, just purring up a storm. Even in the plane, he sends gentle soothing magick into both of them, easing pain from Dew and letting Calida sleep longer so he can, too.

They only get two hours in before Calida wakes up, Dew responding by sitting up to feed her. Dew and Mountain just start talking back and forth and then;

"Do you want to hold her?"

The earth ghoul is just in silence before nodding, letting Dew finish before he carefully is handed Calida. He can tell Dew is nervous by his shaking and smell of distress, so he keeps Calida right in his eye sight, gently poking his nose at her chest and shoulder, licking her cheek. She lets out the smallest coo and wriggles in his hands. She's so, so, so small. Mountain eyes her with nothing but love, whispering about how she's so lucky to have the greatest parent in the world.

"I don't mind mother, really..."

Greatest mother in the world.*

Dew ends up taking her back after a few more minutes, asking for Aether and Mountain is so reluctant but goes without fighting it. They swap places, but Dew is still nervous. Doesn't want Aether anywhere near her, but he trusts him so, so, so much.

"It's nothing against you, I promise, I just-"

"You don't have to explain yourself to me. It's your kit and your decisions."

Dew let's Aether cuddle him on the side, and slowly Dew just falls asleep, Calida still against his chest and not moving in her own sleep. Aether just moved his hand to hover out just in case Calida wiggles, Dew's head on his shoulder so he's absolutely still. His smile is so wide as he admires another thing about Dew he's so in love with.

#the band ghost #ghost band #rabrev #rabrev writing #ghoul kits #calida kit

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cheerycherrycandy-resurrected · 9 months ago

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It's Mountain March!

A new post for an old(er) fic, since I went to reblog it and it's vanished from my page?!? istg this website...

Cling to the Light (acespec ghouls <3)

Mountain and Zephyr had always known they were different from the other ghouls in the Pit so when they found each other, they clung on tight. Mountain's struggles when Zephyr is banished back to the pit, and with the new feelings he is experiencing for his pack.

Rating: M to be safe, vague allusions to sex but nothing explicit or nswf Content: grey-ace/demi mountain, asexual zephyr, dysphoria/self doubt, heats/ruts, they/them zephyr, discussion of sexual repulsion and associated dysphoria, ghouls in the Pit having unhealthy relationships with sex, character being sent back to pits, Angst, hurt/comfort Words: 4782

In hindsight, I think my writing has got better over the last few months. This fic even improved towards the end imo! But I'm still proud of this, and what it represents for me personally <3

Read below or on AO3!

Mountain and Zephyr had each always known there was something different about them. Growing up in the Pit, they had been anomalies, leading solitary lives, struggling to find connection with other ghouls. In a landscape where battles were fought, allegiances won, and futures decided with sex, they had both felt that the world they had been created in wasn’t for them. When they had seen the opportunity to claw their way topside, it had been an escape to a different life, a reset.

Life on the surface was better, granted. Here they had a purpose and safety, but more importantly they had met each other. Zephyr; slight, fragile, and shy Air ghoul that they were had initially been frightened of the solemn and hulking Earth ghoul. But they had soon come to realise quite how much they had in common with each other after many evenings of retiring to bed early once activities between the other new ghouls had begun getting heated.

Ghouls naturally seek comfort and warmth in each other, and as Mountain and Zephyr became closer, they appeared to Dewdrop, Ifrit and Aether to be developing their own relationship. Monogamous ghouls weren’t unheard of in the Pit, they were certainly a lot more common than solitary ghouls. But whatever relationship the others thought was developing behind closed doors, the reality was far tamer, and yet just as exciting for the pair.

For Mountain and Zephyr, sitting together in the den then going their separate ways each evening had slowly morphed into them staying up late reading together in the comfortable silence of Zephyr’s room, and later Mountain spending the night. In truth, it had taken a long time for either of them to feel comfortable sleeping in the same bed, let alone cuddle together as they now did each night.

Zephyr was entirely repulsed by most sexual activity. They always had been, and yet the physiology of their ghoulish body still put them through the inescapable agony of heats. These times were the worst, as in addition to the physical pain they felt a strong sense of dysphoria coupled with the lingering terror from the Pits of their scent being detected and them being hunted as a conquest.

Mountain was the only ghoul they would allow to help them through it, because he understood in a way the rest of the pack could not relate to as much as they tried. For the others, heats were still painful if ignored, but were free of the emotional pain that accompanied Zephyr’s. Mountain understood, and sought to make sure Zeph always knew that no matter how their body and mind may be betraying them by behaving differently to normal, their feelings were still valid and nothing they did during these times would change anything between them. He brought them tea to try and calm their fraught nerves, and to supress the urges of the heat they hated so much.

For Mountain, he wasn’t actively repulsed by sex in the same was Zephyr was, more just apathetic. Helping Zephyr through their heats the same way a healer would assist someone through a sickness in the infirmary. Together they had figured out what Zeph felt most comfortable with, striking a balance of what their body and mind could handle.

After Mountain’s first rut topside, he would no longer let Zeph be involved. They had offered to help him through it, but even through the haze of hormones he could tell how uncomfortable it was making them, and he had fled to his bathroom to take refuge. After a few more hours of misery, he had sheepishly emerged to ask Aether for help. Now, he knows that any of his other packmates would be more than willing to help him out, and let him direct what he needs and can tolerate.

As Mountain and Zephyr’s own connection had grown, they had eventually both become more comfortable with the other ghouls in their pack. One night after a movie in the lounge, Dewdrop, in his characteristically to-the-point manner, had asked them outright why neither had ever been interested in a physical relationship with their other packmates. After explaining their own feelings as best they could, the pack had embraced this knowledge with open arms and grown even closer as a result.

Things had been a little awkward for them as a newly summoned pack from the Pit: Dew, Aether and Ifrit had never interacted with ghouls who weren’t all over each other all the time, but they had soon come to understand each other. In the Pit, both Mountain and Zephyr had felt like anomalies, but their new pack had worked hard to rectify that feeling. After a while, the three guitarists were able to playfully tease them when they would retire to bed early to drink tea and read together. They would frequently refer to them as the pack’s old married couple, safe in the knowledge that Mountain and Zephyr knew it came only from a place of love.

A year of touring the world had also helped the pack to bond. Many a post-ritual night on the bus had ended in a pile of sleepy ghouls cuddled together in the back of the bus, all too tired to fight over bunks.

Since returning, Mountain had occasionally found himself wanting to sleep with his packmates outside of his ruts. The first time he had these feelings, he had been confused. What did it mean for his special platonic bond with Zephyr?

Zeph had, of course, been wholly supportive. They would do anything to support the pack who had given them everything they could never have dreamed of having in the pit. Even if they would never feel the same way about their packmates that they felt for each other, they found other ways to show them how much they were loved.

After many moons with his pack, Mountain had reached a point where he felt comfortable initiating sex with Ifrit, Aether or Dew, and they with him. He knew that this was how they shared their love for each other, and he was overjoyed to be finally comfortable enough in his own skin around them to be able to show them how much he loved them, in their language. Mountain sometimes still felt put on the spot midway through these encounters, but his pack had become strongly attuned to his tells for when he was uncomfortable and wanted to stop, and when he genuinely wanted to continue but wasn’t taking his own pleasure from it. In these circumstances, Mountain had emphatically explained, he just wanted to make them feel good without the pressure on himself to finish.

He had described it once to Ifrit as “like brushing your teeth or something”, in an attempt to describe it as something neither overtly positive or negative, and Ifrit had almost fallen over laughing. Mountain knew better than to be offended, even when the next day Ifrit had winked at him across the dinner table and asked if he wanted to brush his teeth after eating.

The others tried to understand as best they could, even if they didn't fully get it. The same went for Zephyr. Nowadays, they knew that Mountain was never offended to be asked, and likewise they knew to never be offended to be turned down and offered an alternative pack bonding activity.

The five packmates had found so many other ways to show their love besides intimacy, sharing interests, sweet words, even just existing in proximity to each other. Zeph had introduced everyone to ceramic painting one cold winter's afternoon when they were craving closeness from their pack. Mountain had painted a vase with flowers representing all his pack, and it was unironically Aether's favourite thing in the whole world.

The pack's close bond had been shattered when Zephyr and Ifrit were sent back to the Pit. Zephyr had been deemed too old, not befitting of the Clergy's desired image of young and active ghouls. Ifrit had ruffled too many feathers, and been removed for being too outspoken in the days after Terzo was ripped offstage. The three remaining ghouls had spent their next few days glued to each others sides, their evenings spent huddled together in the den, terrified of another knock at the door and a summons for one of them.

On yet another evening like this, Mountain has his head tucked into the space between Aether’s shoulder and neck, his legs resting across Aether’s with Dew curled up tightly in both their laps, finally sleeping. Overwhelmed by fear, sadness and a desire to be as close to what was left of his pack as possible, he had pressed his lips to Aeth’s collar bone. He had needed to feel the connection to his pack, as the pain of bonds cut loose ate away at him inside and left a hollow, empty feeling. Aether had frozen, the gentle hand rubbing soothing circles into Mountain’s back pausing in its movement.

“Hey, Sapling, we don’t have to do anything, you know we love you without any of that.”

“No, I want to.” Mountain shook his head vehemently, and entwined his tail with Aether’s like a boa constrictor. “Need to feel you. Need to know you’re still here.”

Aether turned his head to place a gentle kiss to Mountain’s forehead, humming softly. As he pulled back, Mountain tilted his head up to meet swirling violet eyes. Aether’s love and loss for his pack seemed to be radiating from them behind a film of unshed tears matching Mountain’s own, sucking Mountain into their depths as though to hold him next to his very psyche. In this moment, Mountain couldn’t ever recall feeling such a strong physical pull to his packmates before and slowly leaned in towards Aether, letting him surround all his senses.

Time seemed to slow, as Mountain pressed his rough lips to Aether’s own chapped and bitten ones. It wasn’t like the many romance novels he’d read; there were no sparks. Instead, Mountain felt something far stronger and deeper, a connection more than mere physical contact. In that moment, it felt as though their souls were intertwining, twisting together as their tails did beside them. He felt the tears in his eyes finally spill over and run down his cheeks, but the hot bitterness from before was replaced with a host of new emotions he struggled to name, all condensing to one he was familiar with though: love.

As Mountain moved to deepen the kiss, he let out a breathy noise that he almost couldn’t believe came from him. He could sense Aether’s hesitation, so he pulled back to catch his eyes once more, matching tear-tracks staining his lavender-tinted cheeks.

“I love you, my Moonlight.”

“Oh Sapling…” Aether seemed just as affected as he was, pulling the arm around Mountain tighter, trying not to jostle the sleeping ghoul in their laps. This time, Aether leaned in first, moving at a glacial pace. Mountain closed his eyes, and let himself drown in the sea of emotions once more.

The pair continued to kiss as though the world around them was ending, which wasn’t too far from the truth, until Dewdrop slowly woke from his fitful sleep and smiled to himself at his packmates. He let out a sleepy chirp, and nuzzled his head deep into the warm bodies of his packmates. Mountain broke the kiss to smile down at him and move his arm to pull him securely against his body. Pressed against Aether, with Dewdrop’s comforting weight in his lap, Mountain felt more peaceful than he had since the last Ritual.

Mountain ran the tips of his fingers up Dew’s spine, counting every vertebrae as though to check he was all still there. He tangled his hand in the hair at the nape of Dewdrop’s neck and gently scratched glamoured claws along his scalp the way he knew Dew liked. The little ghoul started up a low purr in response, which must’ve been contagious as Mountain and Aether soon also began to purr in sync. Before long, the evening turned into night and the fire burned low in the hearth, but none of the three ghouls seemed to notice as they fell asleep in a pile of sleepy kisses, soft touches and sweet words.

This was just the first of many nights the trio of ghouls spent curled into each other in front of the fire or in one of their nests, the constant need to touch and know the others were there becoming more desperate over time. Mountain didn’t fully understand where this newfound desire had come from. It felt to him as though his close bond with his packmates was overflowing, that he had to let it out or it would burn him up inside.

After a few weeks, it had become clear that no one else was at imminent risk of being returned to the pit. One of the more respected Cardinals, who had long shown interest in the activities of the Ghost project, had taken over as figurehead and he appeared to have ambitious plans. Aether, Mountain and Dewdrop had already had a few rehearsals with him, trying out new songs, so it seemed their positions were safe for now.

Cardinal Copia had big plans, bigger than Terzo, even. He had announced his intentions early on to introduce live backing vocals, multiple sets of keyboards, and to hold even larger Rituals. Mountain had been sceptical, there had never been this many ghouls in the project, and what did this mean for a pack dynamic? Aether and Dew had been more keen, although Mountain suspected this was in part due to Dew’s switch to lead guitar – he was half fire ghoul after all – and the Cardinal encouraging their playful bickering, suggesting they bring their regular antics to live performances, too.

In the end, it turned out Copia was equally worried that too many new ghouls would fail to integrate into the pack if summoned simultaneously. It would seem that he had had many conversations with the previous Papas about ghoul pack dynamics, and he was keen to ensure his ghouls were as happy topside as they could be. He had even made a point of apologising for the Clergy’s actions regarding Ifrit and Zephyr, and he had seemed sincere. Plans were therefore made to stagger the summoning of new ghouls.

First, a new water ghoul was summoned. They had all agreed that a new bass player was their priority for rehearsals. The night of the next full moon, with torrential rain pounding against the windows of the Abbey, they had gathered in the summoning chambers. Cardinal Copia had spoken the required spells and incantations and a slender, cobalt-skinned water ghoul had clawed their way out of the pits. Even hunched naked on the floor, his eyes darting around in suspicion and sharp fangs bared, the ghoul had exuded a lissom gracefulness.

He was beautiful, Mountain had to admit. This was apparent to all of them, but none more so that to Dewdrop. He had immediately been fascinated by the pretty new water ghoul, the pair spending hours together down at the lake each day. A week into being topside, he was well on his way to integrating into the little pack, bonding with Aether and Mountain too. Mountain had invited him to the greenhouse one afternoon and, beneath his initially prickly exterior, the water ghoul seemed to be a sweet and somewhat shy ghoul. Mountain could however attest to overhearing much evidence to the contrary from Dewdrop’s room late at night.

Seeing how quickly and closely the two had bonded had sparked something within Mountain that felt partly like jealousy, partly still grief from losing Zephyr and Ifrit, but also something like… guilt? He understood for the first time just how much Dewdrop and Aether had lost, losing Ifrit. Mountain found himself feeling conflicted every whenever he spent time with Rain, and pulling away from physical contact with Dew and Aether again.

It didn’t take long for Aether to notice something was up, his quintessence deeply attuned to the emotions of his packmates. One evening, when Mountain had excused himself immediately after dinner, Aether had hunted him down to Zephyr’s old room to find out exactly what was bothering him.

“Mount? Can I come in?” Aether knocked gently. He was met with a non-committal grunt, so let himself in. He found Mountain curled up in one of Zeph’s old hoodies, knees tucked up inside it.

“Oh Sweetheart…” he moved to the bed to scoop Mountain into his arms. “It’s ok to still miss them, you know.”

Mountain nodded silently, letting Aether rock him gently from side to side. After a few minutes of silence, he finally spoke,

“Was it even real?”

“Was what real, Sapling?”

“Everything! With Zeph… I never had the kind of relationship with them that I do now with you and Dew, but you did with Ifrit. I miss Zeph so much every day that it feels like I’m drowning, but how can I even understand how much more you and Dew must miss Ifrit when you had a real relationship with him?”

“Mountain, listen to me.” Aether tried his best to keep his voice even, even as Mountain’s words made his heart break for the ghoul.

“What you had was real, as real as any relationship I’ve ever seen. You and Zeph were two halves of a whole, you had a deeper relationship than any I could ever hope to understand. Whatever relationship you have now with me and Dew doesn’t devalue what you had with Zeph in any way. It’s different but it’s not any more special.”

Mountain sniffed, burying his face tighter into Aether’s side,

“I miss them so much, Aeth.”

“I know, Sapling.”

The pair stayed curled around each other until Mount was all cried out, and fell asleep the same way.

Next on Copia’s list of summons had been a new air ghoul. This was the summoning they were the most worried about – unlike Rain this ghoul would be a direct replacement of one of the original pack. They had discussed summoning an air ghoul last, however the ritual to summon a multi-element ghoul was by far the most complex and took the longest to prepare, so it had made more sense to summon them last instead.

The first surprise of the summoning was the appearance of a ghoulette. Only once before had the Ghost project had a ghoulette amongst their ranks: they were notoriously resistant to being summoned against their will. The second surprise had been the second ghoulette clinging to the first, a veritable stowaway. It was quickly revealed that the ghoulettes were Mates in the pit and, having heard of the topside activities of the Ministry, had made it their goal to be summoned.

Aether had initially taken the lead on welcoming the ghoulettes, sensing Mountain’s hesitation. It was impossible to ignore the similarities between the new ghoulettes and Zephyr, from their icy blonde hair to the graceful way they held themselves. However, it had soon become apparent that while they were visually similar, the ghoulettes were both very different from Zephyr and each other in personality, and Mountain had made more of an effort to bond with them. This, along with the inherent independence of the ghoulettes and Rain’s fast bond with Dew had been a blessing for Aether, it didn’t take much to see just how tired he was from his self-imposed role in charge of integrating the new pack.

Cirrus, the taller of the two ghoulettes, was outwardly the most confident. She had broken through Mountain’s barriers almost immediately, dragging him out on walks to explore the grounds of the Abbey and asking a million questions about the nature around them. While reluctant at first, Mountain quickly recognized a kindred spirit in their respect for the topside world around them. He found her presence deeply calming, and Mountain grew to consider his afternoons incomplete without them sharing tea in his greenhouse, sometimes with Rain joining them as well.

Mountain had taken longer to bond with Cumulus. While she had appeared to be the shyer of the two at first, once she realised Copia wasn’t about to send her or Cirrus back to the pit she had opened up and become more confident. Mountain was a little intimidated by the short ghoulette: she spoke a million words a minute, and was filled with an enthusiasm for the mundane that Mountain often didn’t feel up to reciprocating. The benefit of this however was her ability to pull Aether out of his shell. Mountain had no idea how she had managed it, but Cumulus’ infectious optimism was able to relax the increasingly shy and withdrawn Aether in a way no other packmate had succeeded in. Mountain had first-hand caught her, and later also Cirrus, slinking into his room late at night to help with just that.

However as the weeks passed and the newly summoned ghouls bonded more and became closer with his original packmates, Mountain found himself feeling more alone once more. He missed Zephyr’s simple comfort more now than ever, and their quiet evenings together just existing in the same space. It hurt to see the others enjoying the same closeness he so deeply mourned. It was especially clear between Dewdrop and Rain where the two seemed to orbit around each other, each on their own path but guided by tremendous forces beyond their comprehension. This time when Mountain began to withdraw again, it was Dewdrop who sought him out.

Mountain was working in the Abbey gardens, when he heard light footsteps padding his way. Looking up, he saw blond hair blowing in the breeze and Dew picking his way through the maze of flowerbeds towards him, clutching a thermos and two mugs.

“Hey Sprout.” He plopped to the ground, cross-legged next to where Mountain knelt, looking at him with his head tilted expectantly. Mountain, sensing this was more than just a casual chat, put down his trowel and also folded his long limbs into a more comfortable position. He accepted the steaming mug from Dew, inhaling the comforting scent.

“Nice to see you out here Droplet, what’s up?”

“Why are you hiding from me and Aeth?” Dewdrop was blunt and to the point, as ever. Mountain sighed into his tea as Dew tilted his head to the side, questioning.

“I’m not avoiding you-” he started, going silent again at the cut the crap look on Dew’s face. “I’m not trying to avoid you?” he suggested instead.

“You don’t even join us all for dinner anymore! Aeth’s been really struggling, and he doesn’t need to worry about you too.”

Mountain hung his head. He knew Aether had been finding the changes difficult, but he thought he’d been feeling better, he didn’t think he had been adding to his stress.

“I’m so sorry Dewbug, I’ve been trying to protect you all from me being so down all the time, and I’ve just made things worse.”

“Oh Sprout, you know you can always talk to us right?” Dew crawled towards him on his knees to wrap him in a hug. “I know how much you miss Zephyr.” Mountain leant his head down on top of Dew’s, comforted by the heat radiating from the smaller ghoul.

“How do you do it, Dew? How have you let Rain in so quickly, when Zeph and Ifrit’s rooms still smell like them and their voices still echo through the den?”

“I don’t think I ever had a choice, Mount. It’s like I was pulled to Rain by a siren’s call, like the second I saw him there in the summoning circle this door opened in my heart to let him in. I never had to think about it, it was so easy.”

“As easy as breathing, right?” sighed Mountain, pulling his arms tighter around Dew, neither noticing or caring as the damp of the grass soaked through their jeans. “That was Zeph…”

“I miss Iffie every day, but it’s not like the hole he left in my heart has gone away or healed, more that it’s grown space for another.” Dew fiddled absently with one of the rings in his ear. “The more acute pain might be healing, but there will always be a hole.”

Mountain hummed in agreement, gently rocking the pair back and forth but careful not to spill the remainders of their cooling tea.

“I am happy for you, you know” Mountain ventured after a while. “You and Rain. It’s like your souls have linked already, you’re good for each other.”

“Like you and Zeph.” Dew looked up at Mountain with wide and sincere eyes, “I saw it. You were soulmates. No one’s expecting you to ever be okay about it.”

Mountain made another noncommittal noise of affirmation. “I’m am sorry for acting so jealous though, just because I miss what you have.”

Dew shrugged, “Don’t sweat it Mount, I’d have been far worse if our positions were flipped.” He chuckled drily, before silence stretched between them again.

Mountain drained the rest of his tea and refilled it from the thermos. “Tell me about Rain, Dew? Tell me how he makes you feel, why you love him?”

“Who said anything about love?” Dew’s cheeks gained a slight coral tint, which he shook his hair to disguise.

Mountain levelled him with a look, eliciting a small giggle from Dew before he began talking.

“Well…”

That evening, once the sun had set and Mountain and Dew had finally traipsed back inside to find dry clothes and warm food, Mountain had set out to locate Aether and forcibly extract him from whatever task he was overworking himself with. He had found him in Copia’s office, going over the paperwork for the summoning request for the final new ghoul. Mountain had nodded politely at the Cardinal, grabbed Aether by the hand, and silently pulled him from the room, his tail coming up to bat the pen from his hand.

Mountain led him back to the den, tugging him through the corridors, not letting go until they reached the door to Mountain’s room. He looked back at Aether, unspoken question clear in his eyes. Aether nodded, and Mountain held the door open for Aether to enter. Mountain moved to sit in the pile of furs of his nest, and beckoned Aether to join him. He pulled Aether into his chest, gently knocking their horns together and entwining their tails.

“What’s all this about, Grasshopper?” Aether was the first to break the silence.

“You work too hard Aeth, you need a break. I’m sorry I’ve been so checked out, I promise I’ll be here for you and the pack from now on.”

“I’m fine, I just–”

Mountain cut him off with a small, chaste kiss. Aether looked up, violet eyes meeting green, and Mountain offered him a small smile in return.

“Enough, my dear Evening Primrose. We’re pack, even if I haven’t acted like it recently. But that means we share our burdens, and you’ve been carrying them all. Let me take care of you, now.”

As Mountain drifted off to sleep that night, with a purring Aether still wrapped in his arms, he felt at peace for the first time in months. He had pack who loved him, and he had purpose in loving them. The rest could follow.

With the summoning of the new ghouls, Mountain hadn’t felt the physical pull to them that he did to his existing packmates. Even now, that still grew and fluctuated day by day. However, he had come to realise that the biggest difference between these new summonings and his own was that there was no longer a feeling of wrongness. He understood that he didn’t feel that attraction right now, he possibly never would, but now he could explain things in time.

This time, he knew how deeply he was loved, and how deeply he could love, even if it wasn’t in the way that was initially expected of him. And now he understood that no new love could ever replace or invalidate his bond with Zephyr; each of his relationships with his packmates are as different as the ghouls themselves are. He will never forget Zephyr, the wounds of their banishment may never fully heal. However his love for them will always remain a fundamental truth, regardless of their separate futures or if their paths ever cross again.

And if he starts to feel something for the handsome new multighoul… well, he knows that if he leans into those feelings, his heart can only grow bigger.

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nocturnalghoul · 7 months ago

Text

Mushy May 2024

Day 10- Quiet Nights

I played it a little loose with the concept of the prompt, but it still fits and overall is something I enjoyed writing :)

Rating: G

Characters: Sunshine and Zephyr, background Ifrit and Swiss

Words: ~1.1k

Summary: Shortly before her summoning, Sunshine gets worried about how being summoned topside and having the latent fire magic inside of her activated will change the air element she already has. Some late evening meetings with some ghouls recently returned to the pit alleviate her concerns.

Involves my personal headcannon that while hybrid ghouls are born as such, multi ghouls are made so

Thanks to @forlorn-crows for organizing and @ghuleh-recs for the great dividers ♡

Already, Sunny can feel the pull. The humans of the ministry might not know yet, but she has been told by the Dark Lord himself that she will be the next ghoul summoned by the satanic ministry. In three short months by topside calculations, she will be summoned.

This time is different though, a direct blessing from Him to strengthen the fire element within her. She has always felt its potential, but once she goes topside she will be both air and fire. A true multi ghoul. The prospect is exciting, everything she could ever ask for, but nerve-racking all the same. What if she learns to love the fire too much, forsaking the air element she has known her whole life? What if in order to strengthen the one element the other weakens?

These and various other questions have been blazing through her mind ever since she got the news, a wildfire of worry charring any other line of thought caught in its way.

The answer to her worries comes in the form of a resource she didn’t even know existed, the previous band ghouls. Getting an introduction to Zephyr and Ifrit was simple enough, news of returning ghouls travels fast and why not set up a dinner meeting for them and the new kid to chat.

Sunny sees the meeting with the ghouls for the perfect opportunity that it is, exactly the chance she needed to quell all her worries about being topside and her latent fire element.

She has always been extremely direct and voices her concerns to the two ghouls almost immediately, before the hellish vintage Zephyr picked out has even finished being poured.

She carefully notes the roaring laugh this pulls from the fire ghoul and the fond exasperated sigh from the air ghoul.

“Told you she wasn’t worried about the fire part, this is all on you my dear” Ifrit teases, pouring a little extra wine into Zephyrs goblet with a knowing look.

The plan gets worked out quickly leaving lots of time to chat and get to know one another. Each night leading up to her summoning Sunny will meet up with Zephyr and work on meditations to better connect her to her air magic. In addition, every other evening she will meet with Ifrit briefly to go over fire ghoul things. Just because it’s not her present concern doesn’t mean it won’t come in handy and Ifrit is historically eager to help anyways.

The meetings with Ifrit are raucous and energetic, freeing in a way she didn’t know was possible. The meditations with Zephyr are magical in multiple senses of the word.

As in tune with her magic as Sunny previously thought she was, it quickly becomes clear how much more she could improve.

Zephyr's techniques tend to be a mixture of focused meditation and light yoga, after which she swears she can sense the ambient magic swirling on the breeze around her.

There’s a closeness that grows in the silence. The shared concentration and mirrored movements accompanied by the soft sounds of air rustling the plants around them imprints upon Sunshine a feeling of having the air ghoul’s soul laid bare and hers revealed in turn. These moments together quickly become the highlight of her day, and something she knows will be missed terribly once she is summoned.

Halfway through her summoning countdown she meets up with Zephyr but something feels different. The older ghoul is holding back, but this time she doesn’t push, willing to let the conversation topics float along however Zephyr sees fit.

After several minutes she finally hears it, that same resigned sigh from the night they met.

Still, she waits patiently. A light smile and a turn of the head as encouragement to spur Zephyr to speak on whatever is weighing his mind without pressuring him. It works perfectly.

“If it helps at all, you won’t be the only multi ghoul up there. I hope that you find kinship with them,” he starts, nerves seeping into his normal light demeanor. “The method I want to show you tonight is something I made with said multi ghoul. There are parts specific to a multi-element aptitude, which I do not possess, but I hope I can explain clearly enough for you to understand.”

Sunshine works through the movements slowly, a drawing of pure elemental power into the body and a push down towards the ground to expel any other random magic within. It makes her veins feel like they are sparkling in an intoxicating way.

She frowns a little noticing there doesn’t seem to be as strong of an effect on Zephyr, but shakes it off choosing to enjoy the time with her new friend.

Night after night the two have dinner, joyous swapping of stories without a care in the world, followed by quiet purposeful meditations. Before they know it though, it is the eve of Sunny’s planned summoning.

Zephyr, Ifrit, and her have one final dinner together to celebrate the short friendship that they have fostered. The two older ghouls insist that they will see her again and cannot wait to hear about all the fun she will get up to. They both pass her along a few messages for ghouls on the surface, and leave her to prepare for the following day.

As she moves through the magical exercises on her own that night she feels at peace, bolstered to tackle whatever being topside will throw at her.

~~~

The summoning is chaotic as always, but overall goes uncharacteristically smooth. Sunny takes to her new element with gusto, the time spent with Ifrit more than paying off.

Everything is definitely still an adjustment for her with many new places and faces, but there are a few people in particular she is on the lookout for as the day moves along.

Late in the evening after all the chaos calms down, she sets out to wander the grounds and find a nice spot to meditate and reconcile both the elements inside her. From a distance she spots a lovely looking clear patch in a garden and makes her way over to it.

In the center of the clear patch stands a tall ghoul, performing movements that at this point are as much a part of her as anything else. A calm breath in, a forceful one out. A purposeful sway to facilitate the movement of ambient elemental energy. Leaning back on a bench nearby is a skeptical looking Ghoulette, looking on and heckling him as she corrects his form.

A hopeful smile creeps its way onto Sunny’s face and with a confident stride she bounds over to the meditating ghoul, hand outstretched.

“Hi, I’m Sunny and I bet you must be Swiss, Zephyr and Ifrit have told me so much about you. Mind if I join in?”

#nocturnal writings #nocturnal mm24 #the band ghost fanfic #mushy may 2024 #sunshine ghoul #I’m not tagging the other ghouls cause the point is really her

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thegoddesswater · 11 months ago

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Betrayal, ghost, and nightmare :^)

I chose Valen from ML for these answers and...This got unhinged fast. I'd apologize, but this is apparently just how Valen makes my brain work.

Betrayal: Valen knew it was possible, but didn't think it would happen, because there were so many futures where it didn't. And betrayal is maybe too strong a word for having watched Adair sign his life - their lives - away, out of fear. Because at the end of the day, that's what it was. Fear. But it still stings, watching everything "good" and "right" begin to teeter and decay, while the cogs of the universe click closer towards disaster. And Valen would say that he's above something as petty as 'eye-for-an-eye', but he is, sometimes, only human. So he salts the wound, and twists the knife because surely that's only fair. One life against the future? Two? Surely that's a small enough price. It's just omelettes and broken eggs, after all.

The version in plain English: Adair did not consult with Valen before signing a document surrendering his (Adair's) full body autonomy to government and military control - which could have distinct ramifications for both of them. Valen is decidedly not pleased by this development, seeing all the ways that this can only go wrong, and breaks off his relationship with Adair. Then, for good measure, Valen also provides an 'anonymous tip' which gets Adair's brother disappeared into the maw of enforcement, all while telling himself that it's what needs to happen. He's right but that doesn't mean it's not a dick move.

Ghost: The drugs work until they don't. The voices return. They stay. They always whisper, muted and soft, in languages he's never learned. Words he shouldn't understand, and yet.... He's practised not reacting to them. He's been called crazy, but he's not, he never has been; the voices assure him that it is so. This is how he was always meant to be, so much more than his mortal vessel.

In plain English: Probably not entirely fair to call this 'haunting him' but Valen's odd. He was diagnosed with schizophrenia in his late teens and didn't question it for years until forgotten doses bring him branching visions of reality, clairvoyance, and a distinct awareness of himself that he cannot explain. He's actually a god made flesh, but he can't tell anyone because who in the world is going to hear that and not say "This man, who already has been diagnosed with a mental illness, has finally cracked?"

Nightmare: The world ends and he's done nothing to save it. The world ends and he's tried everything to save it. Tears of blood drip from empty sockets and he knows without seeing that the flames are coming. The inferno that will strip him down, burn him away until only phoenix, or ifrit, or demon remains. He doesn't know what will be left. The world ends and he stands alone. The world ends in flood. In flames. In fallout. The world ends.

The world ends.

He gave up a long time ago on trying to get anyone to understand. Foster parents who chalked it up to the trauma of being in the system. Friends who told him to ease up on the apocalyptic media, to stop acting like he alone is the sole saviour of all. Therapists with tight smiles who tell him 'the subconscious mind works in odd ways.' No one has ever understood; he's given up trying to make them.

Plain English: Valen has messed up dreams of doom and destruction. And everyone brushes them off as 'just nightmares' because, 'Sure, Val. Everyone has messed up dreams sometimes.' The whole godly consciousness in human form is really, really hard to cope with some days.

#Miadhachain Legacy #Val Quirke #Valen Quirke #I'm learning to love Valen again and it's great #This came out much more gothic-y than I meant it to when I started #and yet here we are #Valen is in the wrong genre of story

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laveyanist · 1 year ago

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Final Fantasy XVI Ramblings~! (spoilers)

I'm not done with the game yet, a little over 50% of the way through so I might mute this in case someone sees it and feels a need to say 'so and so dies at the end' or anything like that because people are incapable of just letting people enjoy things on their own but- (here's your warning, this has started to get long as I'm writing it. Basically a disorganized essay.)

TL;DR w/o spoilers - the game has heavy left-wing political themes that I'm enjoying but really hoping they don't undermine in the late-game.

This game has been absolutely fucking insane. Like, in all the best ways, but first and foremost has been how HEAVILY political it is?? And unapologetically communist to boot? Holy fuck. I don't know how many games in the series were this political, the only one I've ever finished was XV so I can't speak on this being a prescient theme throughout the entire franchise or just a part of XVI and VII.

Having a literal commune run by a violent anti-imperialist who they very cleverly turned into a direct reference to the Punk subculture as a main character? Genius. (There's a line of dialogue, maybe it was his actual nickname as well, where Cid refers to himself as Cid The Vicious... Y'know, Sid Vicious.)

The very direct killing of the planet by the mass exploitation of its resources is nothing new to the series, VII being the first to come to mind, but it's definitely interestingly more prescient than ever, but also a lot more on-the-nose this time around. Normally I'd criticize that aspect of it, but it's pretty necessary with how media illiterate I've noticed people becoming... Plus I'm really looking forward to whenever it is the game sends me into an area that's succumbed completely to the Blight (I think that's what it's called) because it established early on that magic doesn't work there, and that sounds like foreshadowing.

I'm a bit worried that by the time the game ends, it'll undermine the revolutionary spirit it seems to foster by turning Clive into some form of 'look at this everyone, he's going to be corrupted and lose his way, iPhone Vuvuzela 100 trillion dead' communist caricature. It'd be pretty disappointing to build this narrative about revolting and breaking the shackles of exploitation by the ruling class and undercutting it at the last minute. Clive's dialogue sometimes feels like it's a potentiality, as they've made a point to engage with the reality that before anything get's better it's going to get much worse for the exploited class during this revolution, but it could also be used to vilify him in the narrative as well.

"Though every soul in the realm may judge my actions heresy, I am certain my cause is just." - a line that sent a chill through me and honestly can be read as foreshadowing a brutalist reign, or just accepting that he'll be viewed as Guevara or Castro or any other revolutionary who the west vilifies for the struggles of their countries after we sanction the fuck out of them.

(Also, this is a bit of theorycraft but the abilities map being a big circle that's slowly being surrounded by each eikon I gather the problem from, and the nickname of Mythos given to Clive has me speculating that Clive's eikon isn't Ifrit. Clive is gathering power to become the Knights of the Round. I really really hope that's what their going for and if so they did a really good job setting up that reveal!)

#final fantasy #final fantasy 16 #final fantasy xvi #ffxvi #ff16 #ramblings #ffxvi spoilers #final fantasy xvi spoilers #clive rosfield #cidolfus telamon

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marjiandco · 2 years ago

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Grimylt Dark

joining the fray of maintenance arts with a continuation of one of my old drabbles. This is set right at The WoL fighting Elidibus!Zenos, and the problems thereafter.

“So, we meet again oh Warrior of Light.”

Seeing him was disconcerting, but for the few moments she's been near the man, it was apparent he was not the same. His voice was deadened, mocking and resigned all at once. She bends low, book in hand and Egi not far behind her. Her anxiousness feeds into it, and ifrit glows red and dangerous behind her. She did not speak when she threw the first punch.

What she could remember of that battle was how much stronger she is against the thing. Zenos, though pains her to admit it, she's never bested. With this Ascian, he’s almost gangly. Like a boy going through puberty suddenly learning to walk with an extra fulm on him. All the power but none of the prowess of having control of his body. Awkward and heavy handed, she finds it easy to dodge him and shooting quick bursts of blinding pain to scorch his skin. When the final blow seemed at hand, she can’t help but to mock him.

“Took over one of the strongest people alive, and still you act as a child riding their first chocobo.” She chuckled to herself. “You are not Zenos. You are weak compared to him.”

He did not stop grinning at her. Anger surged through her. She moved to release a killing blow when that voice called to her.

“I beseech you.”

She stumbles forward, hand instinctively reaching for the pain cutting through her head. She drops her book and with it the tether to her summon. It dissipates around her, and this reality and the strange blue room reverberates like a tuning fork.

“No gods, not now.” She mumbles to herself, but her mind would not heed her words.

She struggles to hold consciousness in this realm. Her body weighs her down like a stone, and she fell to her knees, her arms useless at her side. She tries with all her might to her head up but it lols to the back of her neck. Eyelids flutter, seeing double as not Zenos marches towards her.

Noise has disappeared for everything but the voice in the blue room. The point of a sword enters her waning vision, and with was little strength she had she glances up to see the man smiling down at her, triumph etched into his face. He raises his weapon, and as it comes bearing down on her, her will against the voice is lost, and her spirit flees as so many of her fellow scions had.

**********************************************************************************

Feet fly across the field, barely holding Ooji aloft as he trips over broken bodies and magitek.

Where, where, where, where is she?

He whips his staff around like a bat, conjuring stones larger than his head to whip across those fool enough to step towards him. Thrice damn his sister, and these petulant scion's that throw her again and again into a fray she should have no part in. He slides over gravel, twisting his ears at each new noise. Bullets and shouts, the sound of fire reaching him after its heat. His dark, greyish blue skin burns, his throat choking from ash. He shouldn't even be here, he should be at home with his kit, keeping her safe.

“Too late, alas.”

Ooji'a twists around so fast he feels a pang of a cramp in his neck. That slippery voice. Orange eyes scan frantically before widening on a scene near 200 yalms away from him.

“Shit! Fuck!”

He magicks wind beneath his feet. His sister Marji was on her knees, a blank look on her face, arms dangling at her side as Zenos moves forward. Seeing him for the first time, Ooji thinks he looks like a spider. A creature who did not think to chase down its prey, for it is already woefully tangled in its web.

“Your weapon gods dammit.” He shouts, though she makes no move to obey.

He won't lose her, not this close, not like this again. As Zenos towers over her, he brings down his blade just as Ooji'a juts his staff forward and creates a blinding light.

He crashes painfully into the vacant Warrior of Light, his breath gone from his lungs as he hears a strange crunch and the twang of metal against rock. He gulps in air as he raises himself to his hands and knees above Marji before falling back down. He drops down on one side and yowls.

My wrist, Menphina's left tit I've broken my wrist.

“Another enters the fray?”

Ooji'a turns to face Zenos, scooting before Marji, his broken left arm cradling against his body and his weapon crossing before them. He might be able to get a shield up long enough to pick her up, or drag her, but what about-

A blur of black armor slams into Zenos. Sword against lance, long white hair dirtied by stray flecks of blood.

“Who-” Ooji'a groans before a bark of a voice interrupts him.

“Get Marji out of here! This meat suit is mine.” The elezen growls.

He didn't have to tell the miqo'te twice. With a haphazard shift of his staff to the crook of his arm, Ooji'a manages to sidle under Marji's waist and lift her with his good shoulder. Adrenaline is the only thing keeping his legs moving, and in a blur he manages to find the Eorzean front and transfer his limp sister to safety before seeing to his own wounds.

***********************************************************************************

Marji kicks out and flips onto her stomach, scrambling to her feet. She raises her arms to get titan’s shield going, and as she pulls down, nothing happens. She yanks her arms twice, and feels nothing.

“You are safe here, Champion from beyond the rift.”

She whirls around, and as if her eyes were finally catching up to the rest of her, realizes she’s not in the Grimylt Dark. She’s not even close. A blue void, similar to Hydaelyn’s own, swirls around her. The floor is made of crystal, firm and glistening as aether baubles lift into the air, tinkling around her. A man stands before her, barely taller than her, his face covered. His staff is raised, and she points herself at him, calming her breath as she takes a step forward.

He raises his staff and other hand, quickly saying “Please! There’s no cause for alarm.”

“You.” She seethes.

She marches towards him and wraps her hands in his robes. He turns his head to the side, pulling down his hood. As if she cared who the man is. As if she might not have a physical body left at this point to return to, wherever she and her comrades have been taken.

“We weren’t supposed to meet in this place,” he starts and she shakes him.

“Gods take your plans. I might not have magic here but I certainly can find other ways to hurt you. You bring me back to my body now.”

“I will in due course,” he keeps his hands rigid in the air, making sure she see’s he won’t attack her. “But we have little time to speak, I have need of you, to take you away from the path you walk.”

“Where the fuck are my friends? Do you have any idea what you’ve done? Raiku’s been captured because of you. I may be dead because of you. Alisae...you broke my promise with her. We were supposed to stand tall together, until your magic ripped her away from me.”

“Please, champion, this is of dire importance. I promise to send you back, to explain, but for now you must know the path you walk leads to oblivion.”

His voice is desperate, and for a moment, Marji hears a familiar breathlessness. She watches him, looking at the crystalline arm holding his staff, and at the room around her. It didn’t matter if she threatens him; he’s the only way she can escape from this place. Every word is empty until she can get back to her body and do something.

“Say it quick.”

“I’ve left you a gift, at the base of the Crystal Tower. A beacon of sorts. Find it, and I will take care of the rest. We-your friends and I-will meet again if you do this. Come to the first, please.”

He touches her arm, and her head was thrown back, darkness snapping shut around her.

Again she awakens, the rage and fear culminating in her calling forth Ifrit and lobbing a raging fireball at the wall in front of her, breaking apart the outer layer of stone. A squeak turns the summoner and summon’s attentions to the right, and Marji quickly dissipates Ifrit. A girl stares at her with wide eyes, trembling as she races out of the room.

She rubs her head, clicking her tongue. She was back home, somewhere in Ishgard by the look of the room. It was bare bones except for a table next to her beside, laden with tinctures and sutures. Her ears lower at the sight of the burnt wall. Tataru’s going to kill her for this expense.

Footsteps rush down the hallway, and the little girl comes into view, pointing at Marji and saying something to a familiar face

“Thank the heavens you’re awake.” Aymeric says as he walks inside.

“I’m a little lost in that respect. Er, sorry about the wall.”

Aymeric shakes his head “Pay it no mind. A trifle for your wellbeing Are you alright?”

“Yeah I’m fine, but, how am I fine? Last thing I remember is fighting Zenos, and then I get mind warped to this blue room, complete with the sorcerer who’s been doing this to us.”

Aymeric leans forward, taking a seat on a nearby stool, brows furrowed.

“You’ve seen them? What do they want?”

“Cryptically he gave no answers, only a solution of sorts. I need to speak with the Sci...with the others. What happened, when I fell?”

“When reports came that you were bested by Zenos, I feared the worst. But it seems luck, as ever, is on your side. Not one, but two adversaries came to your aid. They both distracted your foe long enough to sneak you away from the battlefield and into the hands of our Chirurgeons. One I’m sure will be happy to hear you speak, if he hasn’t already heard that.” Aymeric chuckles as he waves a hand towards the wall.

“Estinien, though, well he was never one for emotional farewells. I can fetch your brother, if you’re feeling up for it.”

“You don’t have to be so formal with me, Aymeric, we’re friends are we not?”

His ears tinge pink, a quality she finds massively endearing. He coughs into his hand.

“Yes well, sometimes it can be difficult to know the lines of work and pleasure in these times. I simply, I want you to understand how much you do have limits, as the rest of us. If either of those two had been a minute late, we would not be having this conversation now. You have entire nations at your back, ready to help whenever you need it.”

“It’s because of those nations that I had to go out there. If the Garleans were allowed to run unchecked-”

“And we are most assuredly grateful for your endeavors. But with a mysterious sorcerer after you, it would make me feel better to know you start taking proper care of yourself. Mayhaps come to dinner again after our return from the front.”

“So you can try to kiss me again?”

“You’ll never let me hear the end of it will you.” Aymeric grouses.

“Nope. not when a prince wants to get it on with a frog.”

Aymeric puffs out his chest, annoyance plain but chose to let the conversation go as Marji looks back at her lap, eyes darting as she thinks.

“I will try to hold myself back at our next meeting. But come, if you’re as well as you say you are, you have a few more worried eyes to soften. Estinien is already off to find Raiku’s body, lest you wonder.”

Marji gives a choked gasp, unable to articulate what she felt at the sentence. Aymeric holds her hand, squeezing it lightly.

“None of us have forgotten him, and you will see him brought home.”

She swings her legs over the side of her bed, slipping away from Aymeric’s grasp.

“Well if that’s the case, then I’m going to need to surprise him with his consciousness as a coming home present.”

#ffxiv #marji writes #marji #raiku #ooji #aymeric #ye its a little long #but brainworms can do that to ya #still want to work on dialogue choices #Marji's feels a little stunted since I usually write here as more of a thinking character

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yet-another-heathen · 4 years ago

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What would Nadeem think of Yves? What would the Ifreeti think of him? What would your Henry think of him for that matter?

CW | mention of slavery, mercy killing, fictional PTSD

Personality wise, Yeezumon and Ifyaa would find him simultaneously charming and unnerving. They have no sense of fealty in the way he does, and to meet someone who has been ceaselessly loyal to so many masters over the years? They wouldn't know what to think of him.

The closest concept within their world to Yves are enslaved jinn. Beings, like ifrit, made out of smokeless fire (and sometimes the exceptional human) whose souls are ripped from them and confined within slave rings. They are immortal, but over the centuries almost all of them go mad from what they're forced to do. The ifrit view such slaves as sacred...and dangerous. It wouldn't be unusual for the ifrit, drawing that connection, to gently offer Yves a mercy killing.

---

Nadeem would be utterly terrified of him at first. Here is someone who used to be human, who still walks and talks and for the most part acts human, and yet who he would feel is closer to the ifrit than he is to him. Yves would settle into an uncanny valley and he wouldn't know what to think, but he would be afraid.

If he ever got past that (which, like, I hope he would but Nadeem is a stubborn stubborn man) they would clash mostly over their perspectives on servitude. Nadeem is familiar with the concept of serving: in his culture, nomadic traders are the leaders of their community, and the poorer, non-nomadic people (like his family) who stay in one place to tend to the land are near the bottom of the social strata. He has very recently been betrayed by some of those merchants, and I could see him taking a while to get over that particular projection.

Not to mention Yves' particular brand of composure would sit very, very strangely with him.

---

(Team Henry! Woo!)

My Henry would absolutely love the man. He would pick his mind on as much as he could (carefully avoiding the topic of war), and stay up late into the night musing about the world with him if Yves failed to politely excuse himself. And he would listen, really listen, to whatever Yves would actually be comfortable enough to say.

His respect for him would be immediate and unfaltering. And he would very much want to help Yves with his PTSD and dehumanization. I could see the two of them meeting every few weeks and spending a couple hours over tea, talking together, Henry alternating between picking his brain and helping him make sense of his mental state. He would also love Yves as a drinking buddy—maybe the two of our overly-composed men could find a little comfort in becoming quietly uncomposed with someone else who understands.

Henry would want to be his friend, and it wouldn't be long after meeting him that he deeply cared for Yves. Both of them have people they are fiercely dedicated to and protective of, both of them have seen (and done, in Henry's case) some horrible things, and both of them radiate a quiet sense of dignity that nonetheless isolates them from others.

#this was so much fun #I love Yves with all my heart #and I was honestly startled to realize that most of my OCs...might not feel the same #:(#ask Wick #oc meet and greet #Liliholm and Page #The Jackal of An-Nadr #Yves of Blackthorne Hall #redwingedwhump

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autumnslance · 4 years ago

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First Line

Saw some folks doing this and thought why not give it a try.

Rules: List the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have less than 20, just list them all!). See if there are any patterns. Choose your favourite opening line. Then tag 10 of your favourite authors!

I’m going with actual “stories” or at least longer scenes, not just short blurbs or WIP scenes I’ve also posted lately for challenges/prompts. Also this goes back past FFXIV Write 2020, so going with the more polished works I posted on the free days and skipping those many prompts (much as I like most of them). Also using the Ao3 links for most of these (which means less visibility in search and tags), though a couple are on Tumblr only. The links go to individual works, though many are found in the “Unexpected” compilation thread I have for Aeryn & Thancred shippy nonsense, where they’re more or less arranged in chronological order. Still, direct linking to the specific chapters seemed the best plan.

I think I like best the ones that immediately give environment details, like “The Old Bargain” and “Sandstorm”, though there’s also something about “The First Day”’s first line that works for me.

1) Celebration: “There’s the hero of the hour,” Thancred said as he ambled over. The child Aeryn had been speaking with waved and dashed off, eager to share with his friends whatever secrets the Warrior of Darkness had divulged. Thancred watched him go, smiling, before turning back to Aeryn.

Shadowbringers 5.0 finale and how two warriors of darkness spend it.

2) Aetherytes: Thancred glowered up at the aetheryte. The morning light was obscured by a light snowfall, the blue glow of the device tinting the plaza. The knight handling the fees had a vague eye on him, but Aeryn was keeping the man mostly distracted with pleasant conversation and a thermos of Fortemps cocoa.

Thancred tries to hide his new condition from Aeryn immediately after Heavensward’s 3.1 patch.

3) Food: “Please tell me,” Y’shtola’s voice from behind Aeryn was positively acidic. “That you have eaten more than a muffin and a few pieces of fruit since our lunch.”

Aeryn is in a research frenzy and Y’shtola is annoyed she has to deal with it.

4) Dawn: Thancred hadn’t slept much.

Morning after the ARR 2.0 finale, kind of a sequel to FFXIV Write’s “Clamor”.

5) Flower: “What?” Aeryn demanded, snapping Emet-Selch’s attention down to her eyes; they were the hard grey of steel arrowheads as she glowered.

Emet-Selch has an unexpected memory thanks to Aeryn’s favored hair piece. Shadowbringers.

6) Indecent Whispers: The ceremony was lengthy, the lists and speeches interminable, and Aeryn struggled to not doze off. She shifted in her seat as the sermon continued.

NSFW for dirty language as Thancred quietly scandalizes Aeryn during an Ishgardian ceremony.

7) 15th Day of the 1st Astral Sun: Aeryn stepped through the mirror and into the familiar space of the Ocular, taking a moment to reorient herself after the rush of journeying between worlds. Once the vertigo had passed she left the Tower, the Crystarium guards greeting her as she crossed the Exedra. It took some questioning before she was finally pointed to where Ryne was currently; training with Captain Lyna just outside the city gates.

Aeryn gets a sentimental nameday present from her conveniently absent partner, post Reflections in Crystal.

8) Thancred’s PoV on 15th Day of the 1st Astral Sun: He always marked the day, even knowing that time was moving differently for her back in the Source.

I apparently had to write out Thancred’s perspective first to get the correct feel in the letters Aeryn read.

9) Girl Talk: Lyse and Aeryn fell on their backs onto the palm of Rhalgr, laughing as their early morning sparring session ended in a draw.

During Stormblood’s “Lady in Red” quest, two besties have a chat after their spar.

10) Only a Little Death for Now: He walked through the empty palace, heedless of the dark or cold due to the heated singing of his blood.

NSFW. Zenos having violent thoughts and finding a physical release for them. Shadowbringers patches.

11) Of Porxies and Pardons: “Oh my goodness!” Ryne squealed. “It’s adorable!”

After an off-screen fight post-Eden 8, Ryne and Gaia bully Thancred into talking things out with Aeryn.

12) Restless: Kugane’s lights were strange as they filtered in through the screened window. The little room was comfortable, and gods knew Aeryn was glad to be off the rocking seas and creaking ship, back on dry land.

NSFW. Aeryn’s got a lot on her mind and an annoying physical need to deal with as the Scions arrive in Kugane in early Stormblood.

13) Teach a Warrior of Light to Fish: A lazy day at the lake was exactly what they had needed, Renda thought, stretching on her towel. She rolled onto her stomach as she opened her eyes. Branden had cajoled Nyelbert and Cylva into some sort of ball game in the shallower water, Lamitt apparently refereeing from atop a rocky outcropping, the four of them laughing and shrieking as they splashed around.

Renda-Rae, Ardbert, and his fishing hobby.

14) The Old Bargain (original fic): The wind moaned across the swampy meadows, long grasses and rushes hushing the rattling cart that slowly moved down the muddy road, pulled by a stooped figure in a wide grey hat and long grey coat. The clouds hung low and dark overhead.

A lone figure acts as the go between for the mundane and fae worlds.

15) Realizations: Rhalgr’s Reach slowly recovered from the assault as the days passed. The bodies had been buried and all rites given, the living granted their too-brief time to mourn. Now came clearing the rubble, repairing what could be repaired, and somehow finding replacements for what could not.

Thancred talks to Y’shtola about his feelings for Aeryn in the wake of the assault on Rhalgr’s Reach in early Stormblood.

16) Sandstorm: The wind was kicking up, sand and grit blowing as they rode across the dusty old roads toward Drybone. Thancred looked up at the sky and frowned as the rented chocobos kwehed and shook worriedly. Aeryn looked to him, a questioning expression on her face.

Aeryn and Thancred on the way their investigations into Ifrit in early ARR.

17) The Parley: “We have time before these negotiations resume,” Merlwyb said. “I suggest we stretch our legs and clear our heads before meeting with the Emperor again, now we have a firmer strategy.” The others readily agreed.

Aeryn and Varis talk during the recess during the parley in “A Requiem for Heroes” end of Stormblood.

18) When Everything Changes: Zaine poked at a snail’s shell frozen to the top of the low stone wall. He guessed it had been stuck there before the winter had taken hold, trying to escape the cool rains of autumn. He wondered if the snail had found a new home, abandoning this one. He liked to think so.

Backstory from the pov of Aeryn’s brother, at five years old.

19) The First Day: Ryne had told herself she would not spend the first day sobbing, yet that was exactly what she did.

Ryne the day after the end of “Reflections in Crystal” in Shadowbringers.

20) Unsupervised, Again: “Ah, you’re back,” Thancred said as Aeryn came in the door, carrying a suspicious number of bags, considering the errand she had been on.

Aeryn got distracted while on an errand.

#final fantasy xiv #Lyn Meta #writing #shippy nonsense #thancred waters #aeryn striker #long post

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bagheerita · 4 years ago

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So I just finished Empire of Gold and need to gush about The Daevabad Trilogy for a minute.

(I try to be vague, but that's exactly when I up and hit you with low-key SPOILERS, so be aware.)

My rambling is only barely organized into the format of randomly selected topics in order to provide a vague outline for my outflowing of affection for each book.

CITY OF BRASS

Favorite character: Definitely Nahri. I love a woman who isn't afraid to go after what she wants, and boy howdy do I love me a pragmatist. AND do I love me a girl who can keep her head on her shoulders even when she's in-lust with man. As much as she is truly falling in love with Dara, she never forgets the way he looked at her when he thought she was shafit and his relief when Ghassan said she wasn't. She would have married him if he had offered I think, but she was smart enough to make him take the first step to cross the gap that his prejudice had put between them.

Most impressive thing: The way the author uses her narrator to tell a story that the narrative character doesn't always fully understand. This mostly comes through Ali's chapters at this point cause he's a little naive, but it's really skillfully done.

KINGDOM OF COPPER

Least favorite thing: There are some moments that just felt... weirdly written. There's three big ones that come to mind...

At the beginning- the way the writing describes the environment. I'm paraphrasing because it's been a week since I read it and I don’t remember details, but it's like "the only sound in the graveyard was the distant sound of cats fighting" then, five minutes later "The only sound was the sound of coins jingling in her basket." Like, where were those coins five minutes ago?! Also, why does an experienced thief put coins in a jingly basket that is easy to steal or drop instead of hiding them on her person??? (That's super nitpicky, but it was the first chapter, so I noticed it more.)

The second big moment that annoyed me was... okay so Dara learns that Muntadhir is bisexual through mind-reading powers that he's never previously demonstrated? I mean, there are enough clues about how he does it, and it makes sense to the character's history that he can sense peoples’ desires, but it felt weird that this is the only time we really see him use this power- here, as the inciting incident to the third act, where so much of the plot revolves around it. Dara already knew that Ghassan was planning to force Nahri to marry Muntadhir, they'd already talked about this, so I'm not sure what about Muntadhir being in a relationship with a man, as opposed to the multiple women he’s slept with this week, was enough to make this prospect so immediately repugnant that Dara goes absolutely stupid about it and incites the climax of the book.

Then there's the epilogue that basically just exists to point out what we already learned about Muntadhir and Jamshid. I thought that was kind of unnecessary, as no one in this epilogue scene, including the reader, doesn't already know about this relationship. Though the epilogue does also contain what I think was supposed to be foreshadowing, but which sent me off on a weird mental tangent where I spent most of the second book thinking Jamshid was the reincarnation of Rustam...

Favorite character: Muntadhir, hands down. There is one scene in particular, where he sasses Dara while dying of poison that is just my favorite scene in the entire book. I mean, I think part of my enjoyment was that I had been worried that he was about to be a victim of the Bury Your Gays trope, so when he shows back up still not dead I was so relieved to see him I literally squeeeed, and then he's bragging to Dara about something I explicitly know didn't happen, just actively involved in assassinating his own character because he has nothing else he can give to save his brother at that point except trying to distract Dara by enraging him... omg, do I love me some brotherly feels- my second favorite scene was the three siblings in a closet plotting a coup.

Least favorite thing: Dara lying to himself and justifying Manizheh's actions for the entire book. I get that the fact that he was lied to and betrayed by the people in power that he should have been able to trust is a big part of his arc, but I was not excited to have his POV added to this book just to have him and everyone around him spout off more prejudiced victim narrative bullshit every time I flipped to his chapters, like I wasn't getting enough of that from practically every other character in the story.

Most impressive thing: The author draws some really great parallels and contrasts between the 3 main characters and their journeys that I absolutely love. In chapter 2, Nahri says something like "Where's your sense of adventure?" to her new friend and then literally in the next chapter Ali says "Have you no sense of inquisitiveness?" to his new friend. (I don't like to call ships that early in the story, but I was like- these two are fated to be best friends if not something more.) A bit later in the story, Dara is presented with a choice: to do the easy thing or to do the Right thing, and he chooses the easy path even though he knows that it's wrong. After this, Ali is presented with a choice: to do the easy thing or the Right thing, and he does the Right thing, even though he knows that it ultimately probably won't help. I just really love that this story always feels like every narrative POV and every chapter fully develops the character and contributes to the world.

I also really love the twists and turns that Ali and Nahri’s relationship has taken over these first two books. They really have grown as individuals, and have believed the best and worst of each other, and understand each other in a way that is a great foundation for a truly lasting friendship (which is, of course, the best bedrock for building a more intimate relationship).

EMPIRE OF GOLD

Favorite character: Sobek. I have a soft spot for unrepentant murderers who have a soft spot for the people they find interesting.

Least favorite thing: It ended? I know this book was long enough to be an entire trilogy on its own, but I would have loved more at the end from the side characters. Like, I want 100 more pages just about Jamshid and Muntadhir. I was explicit confirmation of what Zaynab and Aquisa are up to, and a sequel trilogy about their adventures. I want more about Fiza and what her plans are for the future. I want orchard shenanigans with Mishmish. I want more about Sudha and her family. I want more about Nahri conning everyone into making a functional government, and I want more about the trials of everyone in the city learning to not hate and judge as a first reflex. Just MORE!

Most impressive thing: Overall I was just impressed with this entire book. If I had to pick one thing, I would probably say I was most impressed, and pleasantly surprised, by Dara's ending. By this point in the story, I was certain that Dara had transgressed every transgression that it was possible to transgress, and lied to himself the entire way, only deciding upon the Right course of action when it was exactly 2 minutes too late, so I was prepared for him to find Redemption in Death. But once again I was pleasantly surprised at this story's refusal to follow popular story tropes, when it instead granted him true freedom as he perhaps had never known in his life, and the ability to choose who he would live that life in service of- choosing to help those who, like him, had been victims of the ifrit.

I want more stories like this, about characters who are unforgivable, but who are forgiven- not by people or by those they have wronged, but by the narrative itself. Who are able and allowed to rededicate their lives to something, choosing to see their own actions and commit to helping people instead of just blindly following.

OVERALL

Favorite character: I want to say Nahri, though I also really appreciate Ali and his quiet growth from being naive and kind of annoying to a man who is finally comfortable with and understands himself. But I think I’m going to have to choose Jamshid. I really like characters who are honest with themselves about their motivations, and I really admire his willingness to be open to change, to having his entire world and beliefs be turned upside down and try to go with the new way of being instead of holding on to the past, to confess his sins and be honest with Nahri, to believe in the people he knows rather than in what others say about them when Manizheh tries to manipulate him, to have been through everything he's been through and still retain a sense of humor and a generally upbeat personality.

The author does a good job of presenting all of the characters as fully rounded people so that there isn't really a character that I find poorly written. I definitely disagree with a lot of characters, and dislike them as individual people, and Manizheh comes the closest to being someone I truly hate, but you can see the paths that brought these people to be who they are. There are some great lines- where I think it's Nahri who notes that Ghassan's father make him like he was by his abuse, as he had twisted Manizheh up with his own abuse, and that Muntadhir could have easily become just like his father. All people have the potential inside of them to be good or to be evil, and they are formed by the circumstances of their lives, the choices they make, and the power they give to the relationships they have. I also loved that, once she learns the truth about her parents, Nahri notes how much of herself she gets from her Egyptian mother, just as much as she got her Nahid heritage from Rustam, and that it's a part of her that she can be proud of and celebrate.

Most impressive thing: I don't like "realistic" fantasy, where lots of people die, because that tends to be an excuse for the book to just be really depressing. This story really surprised me by being realistic but in a way that was still full of hope. Sometimes people are terrible, or they are broken by the world and can no longer see anything beyond their pain, and a lot of the time the institutions we have created are terrible and are built on terrible things. But there is still always a need for people who do the right thing, who stand up for those who are being treated unfairly, who are willing to make sacrifices to break down the "us" and "them" that divides people. Who are willing to see change not as something to be feared but as a beautiful potential.

Least MOST favorite thing: As Chakraborty herself notes in her afterward: "There are days when it feels silly and selfish to spend my days crafting tales of monsters and magic. But I still believe, desperately, in the power of stories. If you take any message from this trilogy, I hope it is to choose what's right even when it seems hopeless - especially when it seems hopeless. Stand for justice, be a light, and remember what it is we were promised by the One who knows better.

“With every hardship comes ease."

I also believe in the power of stories, and I’m so excited to have been able to experience this one. <3

#book fangasm #the daevabad trilogy #the daevabad trilogy spoilers

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araminakilla · 4 years ago

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Huey and D'jinn possible parallels

As we know, Huey is the center of this season and even if he wasn't present in all the episodes, the ones in which he appears are excelent and contribute for some character development. I bet we are going to see paralels between him and other characters. Dewey has Della, Jormungandr in the neutral side and Don Karnage in the villain side, Louie has Goldie and Gladstone. Huey has Fenton, maybe Gyro, Donald and definetly Fethry Duck, Boyd and Violet Sabrewing. But what if he had parallels with someone who isn't science-related? Someone who has more common grounds in terms of liking history other than Violet (who is now a recurring character)? I have a feeling that it's a side character who is going to return not that soon but in the last episodes.

I'm talking about Faris D'jinn and in this (long) post I'm going to explain why.

First of all, their (brief) interactions. Huey was the first member of the Duck family to meet D'jinn and he was the one who asked if him and Amunet were ok in Moonvasion!

Now this may be very brief but I theorise Huey is going to have more conversations with Faris the next time he appears. They have many things in common after all.

What are those things you may ask? Apart of wearing red in their clothes.

Well, that is the second point. Both like order and things going their way because it makes them easy and in Huey's case, secure.

D'jinn had one thing in mind in all the Treasure of the Found Lamp! episode: To find the lamp of his ancestors in his birthday or devastating consequences would happen aka he's going to be sad. This could count as hyperfocusing on something, that would be the lamp and the story behind it.

He was so concentrated on that matter that he involved the duck family in a quest that some of them (Scrooge and Louie) didn't want to be part of, but felt they have no choice.

This reminds me of the episode where it was Scrooge's birthday and Huey wanted to prove that he could be a better party planner than Duckworth (the already deceased buttler) to the point of only for one second to transform into "the Duke", you know, that facet of Huey that cames to life when a great injustice was made like when Mark Beaks made Dewey the superior of Huey despite the fact that the Blue One didn't put as much effort as the Red One or when a boss character ruins his carefully cultivated farm plot in Legends of Legendquest and the older sibling went mad.

Well, D'jinn had moments that from his point of view count as injustices too. First the lamp was stolen centuries ago, then he finds where it is and goes to Scrooge to have it back, then the old duck tells him the lamp was misplaced. Since Faris had a schedule that he must complete before it's too late, he proposes to find the lamp in a rather...intense way that ends up scaring the ducks. Then he goes to Itaquack and spends maybe hours solving riddles and he knows they are stalling him and gets more impatient. THEN he discovers the lamp was stolen AGAIN under his nose by Ma Beagle and that he was SO close to obtain it right there. These last things of course couldn't happen as the quest was fake but Faris didn't know that.

While I don't think D'jinn has a whole "Duke" persona, he has little moments of intensity that instead of helping him only makes things worse.

It's because these moments of intensity and misunderstandings that the ducks had to make a false quest to obtain more time and stop D'jinn for...wanting to kill them.

No, seriously, the family thought they were death duck meat if they didn't find the lamp which again it's a big misunderstanding, as we found out Faris isn't the kind of guy who is violent just because and he wouldn't kill enemies.

Look, D'jinn is my favorite side character in all Ducktales and I even made a big analysis of why he is a great character a year ago. But... guy has poor communication skills. Let's admit it, many of you wouldn't stay in the same room as someone who not only is very (very) dramatic but also has weapons at their disposition.

Anyway going back to Huey...the Red Bean also has problems with communication. For example, as @pholux-twg pointed out, many things could have been resolved if only Huey had the time to explain his insecurities and point of view in The Trickening!, something he didn't do well in Scrooge's birthday.

And talking about that episode again, he was pushing his siblings to do the perfect birthday for Scrooge, something that Scrooge himself didn't want to. Huey had good intentions when trying to organize the party but his actions and considerations of other people's feelings were not productive, just like D'jinn had good intentions at getting the lamp back but the way he tried to obtain it just scared everybody.

Also to me it is very amusing that D'jinn is a warrior who trusts everybody so much (I mean, he didn't stop to consider if Ma Beagle was lying about the lamp, he believed her inmediatly) and falls for simple jokes as the "got your nose" joke. It is possible that he's not that naive but simply he doesn't really know when somebody is lying or not even if it's very obvious. Just like Huey is Mister "I'm not good at imagination stuff" D'jinn could be "I'm not good at detecting lies and metaphorical jokes"

Then we have the scroll that D'jinn owns and it has the story of his family, his quest for the perfect birthday gift and maybe more information, he writes on it what he has accomplished and that reminds me of the Junior Woodchuck Guidebook that Huey has for guidance. We don't know what could happen if Faris lost the scroll because it seems that he also uses it for guidance in his quests (or in the quest of his life)

Gif belong to @pholux-twg , @stevenfallsvs and @greatgamedota

Also I would like to point out that Huey had moments of stimming in Season 3 and I think D'jinn had moments of this in his debut episode...if spinning his sword many times counts as stimming, because maybe is a cool thing that he does when trying to impresionte those around him but maybe...just maybe he spins his sword when experiencing strong emotions like:

Anger

Determination

Hapiness

But wait you would say, that doesn't make sense as he has the same stoic face in the three gifs.

Yeah, but the thing is, and this is one of the theories that I have...he's masking.

During all the journey he's excited but mostly reserved and it's only when he understood that everyone thought there was a genie in the lamp and said object was now at his disposition that he broke his stoic and serious presence and began to show more than just one emotion.

But from a brief moment before the battle with the Beagle Boys we see the moment he discovers all his quest was a charade to stop him from getting angry, we get this:

He's confused, sad, hurt and angry again when facing the ducks. Then as he questions if everything was fake he seems sad again.

This is of course justified in that he's a tough warrior. Heavens forbid if he shows emotions that could be perceived as weak in front of his allies and enemies.

But we have to consider this: D'jinn lives for epic and little quests. It's his hobbie, his favorite activity, he sees life as a big quest and him as just another player and he takes that very seriously.

The thing is... the others don't. They only pay attention to him for fear of their lives. This is just a guy who you can't ignore. Like I said before Scrooge and Louie only want to escape the problem they got into and even Huey is amazed at how much dedication the warrior puts on the lamp and the quest.

Huey (to Louie): D'jinn monologued about this lamp and the Ifrit's Dawn for ten minutes without blinking!

Taking into account that, let's go back to Faris realizing the ducks lied to him. They used his favorite hobby and interest as a joke. Without saying it, the ducks practicaly said: "You know, we don't care about being part of your quest or your lamp or listening to your dramatic stories. We just don't want to get destroyed. We want you to leave us alone as soon as possible"

And all I have to say is...ouch. OUCH

I mean, of course that supposition is not true because Dewey enjoyed the adventure and Webby was living the dream! But D'jinn didn't know that.

I also have to wonder if him not getting into drama over the lie was because he was very focused in obtaining the lamp or maybe he's just used to it. And for "it" I mean having to deal with many lies made to get rid of him and his dramatic actitude, and that actitude is not wrong or bad but some persons just don't have time or patience for that and we don't know how many people encountered the warrior in the past.

We don't know if his family is as interested and passionate about their history as D'jinn, or if he still has a brother or more siblings but (theory) if he turns out to be the only member of his family to have that passion for history and adventures then he would have another thing in common with Huey. Both love their families deeply but they feel they don't understand them.

At least we have one thing clear for sure and it is that in his last birthday, D'jinn wasn't alone.

I hope he continues to make more friends or how he puts it "allies" and please let him interact with Huey! It's the Red One's season after all.

Also as a sidenote it is interesting that in the last picture Webby, Beakly and Huey (who are confirmed to have more presence and lore in this season) were in one group together. Foreshadowing?

#ducktales #ducktales 2017 #ducktales theory #huey duck #faris djinn #the red colored boys #neurodivergent huey #look #with all the comparisons I did between those two #i headcanon this #Neurodivergent D'jinn #maybe it's unlikely #but possible #time will tell

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yezielmoore · 3 years ago

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Day 30: Abstracted

ok, this is actually like... 2/6th of the whole thing, bc this prompt grabbed me by the ears and said, write form ALL the scions (minus, maybe, Urianger, sorry boo, i love you, i can't write you) POVs and all i could get before bedtime was 2 of them. So i'm putting this up during lunch break before i forget completely.

~.~.~

adj. withdrawn in mind: inattentive to one's surroundings.

When Y’shtola told her she had met a most familiar young man that she simply couldn’t place, Minfilia hadn’t thought much of it, except to note to herself how rare it was for Y’shtola to forget a face. That had only happened once, five years ago to the realm at large and…

Well… Truth is, Minfilia just hadn’t given that information much consideration. The Scions of the Seventh Dawn weren’t going to fund themselves, or coordinate themselves and the paperwork certainly wasn’t going to sign itself. As much as Tataru helped her, there were things only she could sign off on and the bulk of coordinating their members fell on her shoulders too.

‘I should’ve given it proper thought,’ Minfilia thinks dazedly as an achingly familiar young man walks into the solar with barely concealed cautiousness, like he isn’t sure of his place here or like he doesn’t trust them or both.

It’s as if a piece of the past has seemingly transported itself from the fields of Carteneau to the here and now. It boggles the mind and tears at her heart, but she can see that her fellow scions are suspicious and as the leader she needs to take the reins before things can get… thorny.

Whatever is happening here, however he came back, not everything is as it seems, this she knows by the look in his eyes. He’s subtly looking around, taking everything in with eyes sharper than any of Thancred’s blades that are, paradoxically, utterly vacant. Whatever thoughts (if any) are going through his head are hidden behind a blank wall that shows nothing at all.

‘He doesn’t recognize any of us,’ is the startling conclusion she comes to.

She recalls Y’shtola’s tale of the queer young hyur she had met and fought alongside with in a grotto, how confused he seemed by the world at large. She had thought him addled, either by somnus or by an unfortunate blow to the head, such things being quite common among those inclined towards the more physical arts. Especially if they had no support.

‘Maybe it’s not him,’ Minfilia tries to reason to herself even as she puts on her most welcoming smile and starts explaining what the Scions of the Seventh Down are and what their mission is. ‘Or maybe he is. Either way, that’s a talk for another day.’

----

When Thancred finally arrives at the Bowl of Embers, having had to fight his way through what felt like every single amalj'aa in the camp and their pet drakes, he finds Kaito standing in the middle of a ring of fire, his back to him, and no Ifrit to be seen.

All around them is utter chaos (the tempered never took the defeat of their god well and this was no different) but all Thancred feels is the heavy and cold certainty of what happened here. The weight of knowing he is late and the knowledge that, had he been on time, he would almost certainly be one of the raving lunatics on the fringes, presses upon his exhausted mind like a boulder.

All the could-have-beens.

‘What may still be,’ his unhelpful thoughts crowd at the forefront of his mind, reminding him of his failure.

Considering the fact that Kaito still hasn’t moved or reacted his mind may not be wrong and oh, how he hates the mere thought of such possibility even existing.

Kaito has the echo, that should be more than enough to protect him from primal tempering. And yet. It remains equally true that Kaito is… weird. His mind fractured in subtle ways they haven’t had the time nor familiarity to inquire about and help with, if such a thing was possible. They are strangers to him and, much as it pained all of them to admit it, the reverse is also true.

Still, he needs to get his head on the game.

‘Come on, Thancred, time to do your goddamn job! Self-recrimination can come later.’

“Pray forgive my lateness,” he greets as soon as he jogs closer to Kaito who, finally, turns around and focuses his attention on him, eyes bright and clear of any hint of fanatic devotion, thank the Twelve.

He’ll still keep an eye on him, Thancred resolves and not just in case (they have missed some of the tempered before, it has never ended well). Kaito is their newest recruit and he was just thrust into a fight with a bloody primal with barely any preparation and even less warning. Most members of the Scions never see more than the leading up to and the cleaning up following a primal summoning.

(Some do, of course, and they are remembered. Always).

Certainly never a member so new to the order that the ink on his signed name still gleams on the page.

It should have never happened.

They failed.

He failed.

‘I won’t fail again.’

----

TBC

#ffxivwrite2021 #ffxivwrite #ffxiv #kaito seaborn #yeziel writes #my writing

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dlamp-dictator · 4 years ago

Text

Allen X Rambles about Chapter 7

“I hope Episode 7 is focused on only 2 or three characters with little distraction... Amiya maybe finding out that Ch’en is slowly becoming Infected and helping her come to terms with that. Ch’en revealing her past to Amiya and the two connecting over losing so many close to them due to Oripathy. The two standing up to the political corruption of Lungmen, shoulder to shoulder, as women that refuse to see another life lost due to the indifference of a city’s politics.”

-Allen X, October 2nd, 2020, Rambling about Chapter 6

Man... I’m starting to believe it when they say Arknight’s story mode is longer than the Harry Potter series. Things are getting crazy in Chapter 7 and crazy-long to in terms of length. This chapter really had me on the edge of my seat as I read through it and as I played through because 7-16 and 7-18 were a bitch to get through that require some of the most precise timing I’ve seen in this game yet. That aside, I enjoyed a lot what I read and experienced.

And I wanted to talk about it a bit.

But first, as always, a synopsis.

Coming off the heels of Frostnova’s death and the realization of Wei Yenwu’s purging of the Lungmen slums, tensions are high and trust has been fractured between Rhodes Island and Lungmen. However, in the midst of Ch’en hot temper and Amiya’s cool head, Reunion is plans to send the Russian Ursusian city of Chernobog on a collision course with Hong Kong Lungmen, giving Ursus a cause to make war against Lungmen and its great region of Tawain China Yen. However, through some rather amazing political maneuvering and passionate words by Wei Yenwu’s wife Fumizuki, Rhodes Island agrees to mobilize in order to save Lungmen, the Infected, and the beloved daughter of Lungmen, Ch’en. But beyond Chernobog lies Patriot, Reunions greatest commander next to Talulah herself, who’s rage toward his daughter’s death is only matched by his disciplined mind and even more disciplined soldiers. It’s a fight to the center of the Chernobog to save as many lives as possible, even at the cost of this great general’s life.

An Addendum to 7-18

So between my venting about 7-18 when I talked about some fun Arknight’s lore a handful of people wanted to give me some advice on how to conquer that stage. Admittedly that venting was said out of anger and was much more acidic in tone than my usual essays and opinion pieces. I have since beaten that stage and I can give some of my thoughts on this advice. Some of it was helpful... some of it.

“AmIyA cAn TaNk PaTrIoT’s SpEaR tOsS!”

This is technically true and I was technically wrong. When Amiya’s S3 is active she gained increased Max HP and can in fact survive with a sliver of health. However, Amiya’s S3 takes quite a long time to charge even with her talent, and unless someone is actively blocking Patriot her can honestly spam his spear through for how long it takes Amiya to get prepped for her S3. This is more of an issue of Amiya’s balancing than with the game, but I’ll talk about that later.

“jUsT sTaLl PaTrIoT tO kEeP hIm FrOm UsInG tHe SpEaR tOsS!”

This would be pretty viable advice if Patriot didn’t one-shot my units. Yes, defenders like Cuora, Nian, Hoshigumi, and even tankier vanguards like Zima and Siege can tank at least one hit from Patriot without dying, meaning a squad of healers can just focus-fire on them while they do chip damage to Patriot and stall him out. However, Patriot’s phase 2 has him do constant damage to nearby units with his aura ability, so if he can get lucky enough, he take someone down to a sliver and let his poison damage finish off your staller before they get a chance to be healed. That strategy needs luck and some damn smart unit placement. Neither of which I honestly have.

“uSe SpEcTeR aNd DeBuFfErS!”

Again, this is also a pretty good strategy. Specter’s S2 makes her immortal for a limited time and pairing that with healers like Breeze and Celycon who reduce stun damage isn’t a bad idea. Characters that ignore or lower defense like Pramanix, Shamare, and Meteor are also good. This doesn’t work for me however since I only have Pram and the other debuffers are way too underleveled and not on my priority at the moment, and E2-ing units this late in the game just to take out one boss feels like madness.

“f12 CaN dOdGe ThE sPeAr ToSs!”

F12, W, Jessica, and FEater have a dodge chance. Their dodges are not guarantees. Yes, Patriot will target the ranged operator furthest from him and there are range tiles pretty close to his spawn point for that purpose. However, some of those operators have some pretty damn expensive DP costs and waste that on a chance to survive isn’t worth.And feeding Patriot ranged units that take over 30 seconds to redeploy is a waste of DP in general. And those either dodge chances aren’t viable. Them surviving isn’t a strategy, it’s a fluke, and you can’t depend on flukes in auto-deployment.

“Allen, you’re being kind of an asshole to what’s actually sound advice.”

Yes, I am.

I don’t care.

7-18 does things to a person, man. That stage breaks people. I lost sanity IRL just doing that stage or 20 times with a guide... dear lord this stage.

Anyway, moving on.

Story Notes

My, this story sure was thick, wasn’t it? It’s been while since I’ve been on a ride that wild. And this time around I don’t have any small issues to bring up. All the characters felt in character without breaking my suspension of disbelief. There weren’t multiple character arcs going on at once. And I even tolerated Kal’tsit berating the Doctor for reasons beyond his understand since she wasn’t discussing too many things that were above my head as the player.

No... I only have big issues.

But before that, I wanted to hit on some actual important notes that were very good and smartly written.

Rosmontis and Child Soldiers

This was probably the biggest takeaway for me. I know the Arknights community likes to poke a lot of fun about the child soldier thing and how Kal’tsit is harboring slave children, but... man, it makes so much since now.

These kids aren’t just kids, they’re all infected people with some rather scary abilities. Popukar has a history of mental instability coupled with monstrous strength. Ifrit has powers she can just barely keep under control and could set Rhodes Island ablaze at any point. Frostleaf and GreyThroat are deeply traumatized from their past. The Ursus Self Government are full of kids with hatred, resentment, and fear of both the world and themselves. The list goes on, but the fact is that these kids all either have abilities that would be a danger to themselves and others if they aren’t trained, or have emotional hang-ups that might very well have them lash out at innocent people if not put on a leash. Wouldn’t it be better to at least give them some training and let them hack and blast away at the actual bad guys? Wouldn’t it be better to at least make them a weapon for some kind of greater good? And would anyone else really treat these broken, powerful children as anything but weapons and warriors anyway?

I know this is about chapter 7, but I remember in Children of Ursus Rosa asked Zima why she fought, and Zima casually answered that she just liked fighting. It’d be far better to have someone with that mindset working for an organization like Rhodes Island than ending up in Ursus’s fold and blindly hacking at something she shouldn’t.

And I think it’s important to remind everyone that Amiya is the head of Rhodes Island and not Kal’tsit. She’s a big part of the organization, but it’s the bunny in charge. And the bunny that is herself close to a living nuke and is also has empathetic superpowers understands this probably better than anyone else, which is why she okays it.

Patriot and Reunion

As much as I despise, and I do mean despise, how cagey this series can be with it’s portrayal of Reunion’s morality I can understand why a lot of its members can see the group as being just. Patriot is a warrior of such renown and praise, and Talulah has so much charisma and power that I can see the group overlooking characters like Mephisto and W when the other two do so much for their members and general people. The Guerillas under Patriot behave like soldiers. They don’t rampage, loot, pillage, or harm everyone in sight, only those that halt, stagnant, and harm the infect. Talulah has a charisma about her and attracts people, and seems to come from some sort of royal/noble line to match. And while Faust wasn’t mentioned much in this chapter, he was a soldier that started at the bottom, worked his way to the top, and made sure to play by rules that kept his moral high ground. Mephisto seems to be the only outliner here for some baffling reason.

But... there are some major issues with this story. I hint at them every time I talk about Arknights’ story, but I’ll go into depth here. And I’ll present these two issues I have in the form of a two question:

Who is the Doctor?

I don’t mean this the sense of the story, but what is his function as a character? Is he a self-insert for the player, or his own character to be explored and examined?

And either answer, to me, is wrong.

The Doctor Isn’t a Self-Insert

It’s straight up impossible for the Doctor to be a self-insert character. Most self-inserts are blank enough to let us place our own personality onto them and the situations their in the choices they make are meant to be more or less choices we’d make or at least a general audience could make barring some specifics. Their personalities tend to be blank or at least bland to let us, the players, live through them and project our personalities onto them.

The Doctor isn’t this.

There are too many moment where our choices are clearly pointing to one conclusion and most choices, though varied, give a clear idea that the Doctor is someone that care about the operators’ wellbeing deeply and hates seeing them used, abused, or manipulated. They are strategist and commander, but they have enough humanity to not see people as tools. They are passionate when they see other operators and especially Amiya in harms way and tries to come up with strategies to minimize lost and causalities. Awhile we, the player, feel the same in this regard the Doctor has dialogue that feels more conversational and toward specific directions than what a player would likely want and gives us some bits and piece about what they’re actually like.

The Doctor hates Kal’tsit and wants little to do with her, only tolerating her presence as much as she is with the Doctor. The Doctor is a bit of a bleeding heart that doesn’t fully grasp that they are constantly in a warzone despite their strategic competency. The Doctor has an extremely weird diet and eating style, devouring live animals and ingesting foods that would probably need to be probably mixed and brewed before consumption. The Doctor still sees Amiya as a child despite her mature nature.

The list goes on, but there’s enough there for me to say the Doctor is more like Hakuno Kishinami of the Fate/Extra series, a character that seems like a self-insert but has a number of traits and character tics that keep them from fulfill that role. However Fate/Extra, for all I have against it, makes Hakuno work by giving them their own internal thoughts outside of the player’s actions that explain their dialogue choices and actions outside of the player’s control. The Doctor doesn’t, so them being a self-insert feels really weak and irritating when the dots stop connecting.

But despite this...

The Doctor Isn’t Their Own Character

Too much of what the Doctor does is passive. For a clear as their personality is, at least to me, they don’t have much agency in the plot. Not enough for me to call them their own character at least. They commander the battlefield, but they don’t have a place on it. They don’t have much reason to interact with characters like Patriot and Talulah unless its on the metaphorical and literal chessboard we’re playing on.

Every time the Doctor says something that advances the plot in some way I feel like it could be said by another character and work better. Amiya trying talk down Patriot and explain that Frostnova fought bravely did not need the Doctor’s interjections, especially when Patriot shoots them down in the same manner. In chapter 6, being trap with Frostnova would had worked much better with Amiya since that chapter was giving them parallels anyway. The only thing that really works is the Doctor trying to call out Kal’tsit for her treatment of Rosmontis as a soldier despite her age, as that’s only something that someone who didn’t have the full context could do.

But... Jessica, Frostleaf, Frostnova, Melantha and several other Operators are young teenagers and even children. Specter and Lappland are clearly just as mentally damaged and still going into battles. The Doctor knows the kinds of people that fight for Rhodes Island, so isn’t this just another young fighter like Popukar and Suzuran? Hell, in chapter 6 we canonically had Beagle and Fang in a stage where they had to fight and tank Faust, why is the Doctor so surprised that someone like Rosmontis exist and works for Rhodes Island?

See?

See how trying to give this character separation from being a self-insert and actively slot them in the active story does more harm than good?

I think games like Girls Frontline and Honkai Impact 3rd do this better, where the player character is clearly more behind the scenes and is only a passing influence, if any.

But that leads me to my next question, which is...

Who is Amiya?

Amiya falls into the trope of being a cute anime girl with a mysterious past and dangerous powers. More accurately, she has a mysterious past and powers to the player, but everyone in Amiya’s inner circle seems to have a clue about it. I don’t mind this being a mystery, but... when our main character’s plot revolves around things the player doesn’t know, it’s curious at best, and infuriating at worse.

Folks, I’m not someone that looks to theory-crafting. I’m not someone that reads every scrap of dialogue in this game to find out more about its lore. The lore, to me, is just fun and interesting. I honestly do not have the time and energy to spend on making theories and predictions that could be wrong and a waste of mental energy. However, with all this stuff about the King of Fiends just feels like a waste of time, or at least a last minute addition to something I could had been added properly in Chapter 8.

A lot of it feels like you had to know about the Darknight Memoir side story to really get a feel for what’s going on. The Sarkaz civil war, Theresa, W’s role back when Rhodes Island was Babel, a lot of things that don’t come up in the main storyline. Especially with that bombshell about the Doctor maybe killing Theresa.

I don’t like it when a story expects me to have read the spinoff to understand the mainline story. This is why I don’t like the Dragon Age series and I’m really getting annoyed with Arknights right now.

This bombshell of the King of Fiends also kind of sours a bit of Amiya’s character as this young child who rose through the ranks of Rhodes Island as a charismatic leader being able to steel optimism with the reality of war to forge ahead as a proper leader through her abilities as both a commander and an empath. Instead it’s beginning to come across that her skills as a leader comes from something more supernatural, or at least something more forced than "small child is a good leader and can lead an army,” which is surprisingly more believable and nuanced given how seriously the series takes Amiya’s character.

That said, I recognize this criticism is more my wish of what was rather than an issue of what is. I completely understand that essentially wishing for my own fanfic and limited fan theories to come true isn’t a sound criticism, but it's a criticism I have regardless.

But moving on, there’s one more issue that bugs me.

W’s Importance

I’ll keep this brief since I already discussed my bigger issues of the story and this is an admittedly small portion of the story:

W wasn’t utilized much in this story despite being a main feature of it in the promotional material. She has a pretty lengthy intro, disappears from the story for most of it, then reappears at the last bits of chapter 7 to make mean looks at Kal’tsit and the Doctor before being literally shoved offscreen again. I’ve already discussed my issues with the Doctor’s agency so I won’t bother here.

W’s banner should had been during Darknight Memoir, it just makes more sense given she was the feature character of it and her high physical damage would had been a goodsend among all the arts-resistant Sarkaz units of that series of chokepoint-heavy maps, similar to Weedy’s inclusion her is helpful as a lot of these maps could use a good pusher, especially 7-16.

Speaking of, Weedy, the other operator on this limited banner, has no presence in the story at all. Need I remind you in the last limited banner Aak and Hung at least had cameo-esque appearances in the Ancient Forge event. Weedy’s inclusion feels like an afterthought because they didn’t want the limited 6-Star to have a good chance to be pulled for the whales.

Anyway, I believe those are all the big issues I had with this story, so...

In the Future

As I always tend to say, I don’t like the idea of trying to fix something that has already been made and has already passed. It’s too late to change the past, but I see nothing wrong with asking for things to happen in the future as a way of giving feedback.

To that end, I still have hope that Chapter 8 will have a focus on Amiya and Ch’en tackling Talulah together. From my understanding of some spoilers this is more or less what is going to happen. I also hope that we’ll have a more detailed idea on this whole King of Fiends thing is about. As much as I personally don’t care for it, it’s already be discussed in the story so I at least hope we get the full idea on what’s going on with that plotline.

I also hope the Doctor either plays less a role or becomes their own character outright away from any player influence. Us speaking through a character that already has a personality feels weird to me and I’d rather not have it at all.

Anyway, that’s it for me folks. Next time... maybe I’ll talk about anime or something, who knows.

#your dictator is speaking #arknights

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bytheangell · 4 years ago

Note

Hello Elle, after our lovely convo on discord, Alec's Friday nights suddenly got busy. For an hour he disappears and doesn't tell anyone where he goes, just stating he's just going out for a bit. What the others don't know is that he's been going over to Simon's and the duo have been trying to get through *insert generic coop video game here*. You can decide if the others find out or not (*^3^)/~☆

What Friends Are For (Read on AO3)

Alec shrugs on his jacket and grabs the messenger bag from where he casually tossed it by the door on his way in that morning. He has this timed down to the second - being Head of the Institute has a few perks, including when the best time to sneak out during shift changes and while the cafeteria is open for dinner is to avoid anyone noticing him as he slips out. It worked well for a while… until it didn’t.

Lately, it feels like his family and friends must have some sort of tracker on him because this is the third week in a row one of them stopped him just shy of the front doors while he attempts to sneak out unnoticed on a Friday night.

“My big brother, going somewhere other than patrol on a Friday night? I don’t believe it.” Izzy teases good-naturedly. “Date night?”

Alec considers saying yes, but he can’t risk someone needing him or Magnus for something and discovering the lie.

“No,” Alec admits. “Just going out for a bit.”

It’s the same thing he said two weeks ago when Clary assumed he was going to grab a coffee and asked him to bring her back one, too, and the same thing he told Jace last week when Jace tried to get Alec to cover for him so he could go clubbing with Izzy.

Izzy raises a skeptical eyebrow, but Alec’s already turning back towards the door with a dismissive, “Sorry, gotta run!”

That’s the trouble with Shadowhunters - once they notice a pattern, they can’t let it go. It’s ingrained in their training to pick up on things like that, normally in a battle or tracking sense, but it can be applied everywhere. And unfortunately, Alec’s friends seem to have their minds set on applying it to him.

That’s a problem for another day, though, because he’s already out the door and on his way before he can worry too much about it.

---

The following Friday, Alec is halfway through the ops room when he hears a voice speaking behind him loudly enough to get his attention while he walks with his eyes down, determined not to make eye contact with anyone who might try to stop him on his way out.

“If I didn’t know any better,” Alec hears Jace’s voice say. “I’d think you’re cheating on Magnus or something.”

“That’s absurd,” Alec says, rolling his eyes.

“Of course, it is. That’s why I said ‘if I didn’t know any better’,” Jace points out. “The problem is, I don’t really know better, because you keep disappearing every week without telling anyone where you’re going. And I’m not saying you aren’t entitled to your privacy or anything but… it’s just weird, for you.”

Alec’s glare softens a little. They usually don’t ask, and Alec doesn’t offer anything besides out for a bit’, but he should’ve known that could only last so long. He supposes that’s what he gets for suddenly changing his habits after two decades of always being around. “I swear, there’s nothing to worry about.”

Once it’s clear that’s all Alec plans on saying on it, taking Jace up on the ‘you’re entitled to your privacy’ comment, Jace looks resigned for now. “Alright. See you in two hours?”

Alec shakes his head a little, cursing that knack for routine catching. Or maybe he should just stop being so predictable. “See you then.”

---

In the back of his mind, Alec knows that he should’ve left a while ago. He isn’t sure how much longer than his usual hour or two he’s been here because he can’t take his eyes off of the screen in front of him. It’s like watching a car crash in slow motion, first one thing goes wrong, then runs into another, and soon everything is backed up and piling on top of one another in an inevitable train reaction. Alec’s strategy training should be enough to get him through this, but there’s no accounting for the people you have to work with, and-

Alec is so in the zone that he barely registers the sound of the knock on the door until Simon’s moving in a blur away from him to open it and back, all barely in the blink of an eye. Alec assumes it’s Raphael, because who else would it be?

He assumes wrong.

“You know, for someone with vamp speed, you’re moving PRETTY SLOWLY ACROSS THE DAMN KITCHEN,” Alec says, his voice tense, doing his best to unclench his fingers when he sees the tips of them pressed so tightly they’re whiter than usual.

Simon practically growls beside him, “Yeah, well, for a Shadowhunter, you have a SEVERE LACK OF COORDINATION. How did you drop that?”

“Who the fuck cooks sushi at the same time as burgers anyway?” Alec demands. “This is absurd.”

“...because the rest of the game where you cook food hopping between two sides of a river or on a hot air balloon is not absurd. Got it,” Simon huffs, and only when Alec decides to spare a glance to the side to level Simon with a proper glare does he realize it is not, in fact, Raphael who came to the door.

Izzy, Jace, and Clary all stand just inside the front door, fully gaping at the sight of Alec sitting on Simon’s sofa in sweatpants and a t-shirt, his bare feet curled up underneath his legs, holding a video game controller.

“Alec? Alec! What the- great, we lost,” Simon sighs, glancing around at the lot of them. “If I knew you were going to save some sort of existential crisis at the sight of your siblings, I would’ve left them in the hallway. Wait, is something wrong?”

Alec opens and shuts his mouth because he doesn’t have an answer to that. Nothing is wrong in the sense that they’re probably not here because the Institute is on fire, but…

“Oh. My. God,” Clary laughs.

“This is where you’ve been sneaking off to?! We thought you were in some, like, underground fight club or got mixed up in some Ifrit drug ring or something,” Jace says. “Especially when you stopped answering your phone.”

Alec fishes his phone out of his pocket to see that it’s off and doesn’t turn on when he hits the power button. It must’ve died on him since he hadn’t planned on being away from the Institute this long and forgot to charge it before he left.

“I can’t believe you never told me Alec’s been playing video games with you,” Izzy rounds on Simon, sounding betrayed.

“You never asked!” Simon defends.

“I did ask you,” Izzy points out, turning on Alec.

Simon frowns. “You lied about hanging out with me?” He sounds a little hurt.

“No!” Alec insists. “I just said I was-”

“-going out for a bit,” Clary, Jace, and Isabelle all finish in unison with Alec.

Simon seems slightly more comforted by that answer, at least.

“It was just supposed to be one time,” Alec says. “I was just going to help him get past one level, but he got stuck on another the next week, and it just… turned into a thing. I know everyone hates the Friday patrols, and I didn’t want to get shit for skipping out on them to play games.” The guilt at getting caught is enough proof of that. Every week he told himself it’d be the last one, but in all honesty, he didn’t want to stop. They were fun, and Alec didn’t know how to deal with actually wanting to ditch out on work to have fun every so often.

He barely realizes he’s already thinking of it in the past tense because now that they know there’s no way he’s getting away with keeping this Friday night routine up in the future.

“And now you’re best friends with Simon,” Jace smirks.

“We’re not friends-” Alec says. “I just come over once a week to play video games. Well, every week except last week - we watched an episode of some cop, comedy, thing?, so I’d understand a reference he kept making.”

“Every time I said ‘Noice’ instead of ‘nice’ he looked like he was going to have an aneurysm,” Simon supplies, mostly for Clary’s benefit, and Clary snorts out a laugh.

“Yeah, you’re best friends now,” Clary confirms.

“I-” Alec starts to insist that they’re absolutely not, but stops, looking confused.

There’s a lull during which everyone levels Alec with the same look.

“...have you never had a friend before?” Clary asks, not unkindly.

Sure, Alec visits Simon once a week, but he sees Raphael once a week when he comes over to Simon’s after sunset, and that doesn’t make the two of them friends, Alec’s sure of that. The only difference with Simon is that they play video games when they meet up, and sometimes Simon orders takeout for him, or have a drink if Alec doesn’t have a patrol to get back to, and they have occasionally been texting lately, but--

“Raziel, we’re friends, aren’t we?” Alec realizes.

“Not with that attitude,” Simon huffs.

“No, sorry, it’s not-” Alec flounders. “I haven’t, really. Had proper friends.” It sounds sad to admit it like that, but there’s no way around it. Izzy and Jace are his siblings so they hardly count, even if they did the sort of things he’d probably do with actual friends.

“I guess we are friends, then,” Alec admits finally.

Alec is a little embarrassed for Simon watching how intensely he beams at that statement, and that’s saying something coming from the guy who just admitted he never had a proper friend before. Still, Alec can’t deny the bit of warmth he feels at knowing Simon wants to be friends with him, too.

Alec clears his throat. “Great. Now that we got that settled, I guess I should go back and actually, you know, run the Institute since you two are incapable of covering for me for a few hours.”

“Not a chance,” Izzy says, shaking her head.

“You never take time off, or have fun, or-”

“Okay, okay, I think we get it,” Alec cuts Jace off.

“Do you know how long Iz and I have been trying to get you to take time off for yourself? In fact, from now on, I’ve got the Friday night shifts. You two enjoy your game nights. Have a beer or something. C’mon,” Jace motions to Izzy and Clary. “Let’s let them get back to their video game bonding.”

Alec’s sure there’s some sort of catch here, but honestly, the idea of a full night off instead of going back to finish paperwork or clean up any messes is too tempting to pass up just then, so he takes it.

“Just don’t forget to do the dishes this time,” Alec pleads, the others already forgotten as Simon restarts the round.

It’s only later, when he finds out that Izzy, Jace, and Clary have been drilling Simon for anecdotes of Alec being ‘adorably normal’ (in Clary’s words) that he momentarily wonders if it’s worth it.

It doesn’t take him long to decide that it is. So what if the others give him a bit of good-natured harassment for it once and a while… after all, he’s quickly learning, that’s what friends are for.

#simon lewis #alec lightwood #shadowhunters #I LOVE THEM AS FRIENDS OKAY #Silec brotp #thank you for this prompt #elle writes a few deadbeat lines #long post #skylar102 #ask rune #elle talks too much

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writing-the-end · 4 years ago

Text

LoL Chapter 10- Danes

Masterpost

A Wizard Hermits tale (AU belongs to @theguardiansofredland )

Welcome to Danes, the valley of the Guild of Asklepion. The healers are under attack, and call upon the help of the hermits- legal or not, they’re the last hope to help a massacred guild.

__________________________________________

Down in the peaceful valley, tucked in the quiet hills of central Lairyon, a fire raged and roared. Flames burn like dragon tongues, lashing across the wooden stables and grass covered roofs, marigold petals curling and wilting from the sheer heat of the destruction.

“Are we too late to help the Asklepions?” Ren whimpers, red light mirroring off his tinted sunglasses. His tail tucks between his legs, ears folding back as an ifrit squabbles across the verdant grass plains. The stout monster leaves a trail of fire in its wake, black husked form like smoke rising from the angry fire.

A shrill cry, and a loud crack makes the entire guild jump. From the flames, a massive branch whacks the fire monster. Enough strength to send the husked remains of the ifrit crashing into the strong base of an oak tree. The husk falls apart upon impact, like a snowball struck against a hard surface.

From behind the branch wielding wizard, a kipling stumbles over his feet and opens his arms wide. Water sprays across the fire, dousing the flame. Smoke roils free, masking the damage to its fullest extent. At least, what’s visible to the hermits on the hill. But they can see that the fire is only the latest damage dealt to the healing guild’s peaceful complex, Danes. A quiet monastery for recovery and recuperation needs it’s own bones fixed.

The woman with the tree branch, white dress fluttering in the wind as a white flag, locks eyes with the hermits. Even from such a distance, the hermits can see her anger cross the healer’s face and her weapon rise up. The kipling grabs her arm, pulling it down and pointing at the group. False leans on her claymore. “Should we maybe go down there and not stare?”

Through the plain of wildflowers and grasses, the hermits arrive at the smoldering remains of the retreat. “Who are you and why are you here?” The woman with the branch growls, raising the weapon above her springy black hair. “Are you the ones who keep sending these shadow monsters?”

“Well that’s rude.” Etho grumbles, crossing his arms. Those aren’t shadow monsters. Shadow monsters are pretty chill, in his opinion.

“No, no it’s not us.” TFC steps back, alarmed by the amount of harm the healing mage did to that ifrit. For a guild that pledges an oath to heal, she definitely did a lot of damage to the husk.

“These are the people Galena sent the message to.” The Kipling waves to the group. “That little boat I had to send all the way to the ocean?”

“A little late, but better late than never. I’m Iris, come on, we need to get inside before another patrol notices us.” Iris tosses her branch to the side.

“I’m Micha, I’m so glad you got our letter.” He offers the first smile the hermits have had since they arrived, something lacking in such a once peaceful and tranquil place.

“What happened here?” Grian questions, fluttering over the other hermits to talk. He feels like he should be in on this- he is the guild’s only healer.

“It was our second attack today. Lucky for us, the only real trouble was that ifrit.” Micha responds, running a hand over the charred wood of a collapsed building. The grassy green roof has fallen to the side, slanting upwards like a sudden hill. It was burnt, but not in any way that would have knocked it over.

“Nothing about this is lucky.” Iris growls. “We’ve been attacked for the past week by irrational, strong, ash grey monsters. They destroyed our infirmary, ruined the gardens and healing runes. And worse of all, we had to break our oath. We’re healers, not fighters.”

“Well, lucky for you, we’re a jack-of-all-trades kind of guild.” TFC hums, stooping low and picking up the remains of a runestone, the carved mark shattered but a curve and a line visible.

“How did your guildmaster know about us?” Grian questions, looking more to Micha than Iris. He knows when to push boundaries, and when someone is best left alone. Something he’s learned the hard way.

Micha shrugs. “I’m not sure, but Galena wanted only you...who are you people?” Micha tilts his head, wavy blue hair cascading off his shoulders.

“We’re the Order of Hermits!” Grian cheers, proud of his guild, his family.

But Doc knows that doesn’t answer Micha’s question. “We’ve faced these husks before. I don’t know how your guildmaster learned of us, but we can handle this kind of threat.”

“You’ve seen this before?” Iris turns, suddenly intrigued by the group. “How? Why? Did they attack your complex as well?”

The entire guild goes quiet, looking at any other place than the woman before them. Eyes falling on the burned and broken buildings, weapons and corpses scattered about. Flakes of husks still swirl among the ash and charred homes. Cleo growls, the silence killing her all over again. “We were contracted by Magistrate Dolios, to investigate a town that was having issues. When we went there, we found the entire place was dead of life, like all color and energy was sucked from the ground.”

Iris tilts her head back. “That’s definitely not what’s happening here. Apart from the burnt buildings, everything here is still green and alive.”

“You haven’t seen a creepy, adamantine crystal that sucks life up and attacks with spooky black mist?” Joe scribbles notes in his journal, the feather tip of his quill wiggling back and forth at his furious writing. Iris draws a perturbed stare at the poet wizard, and that’s all the answer he needs.

“But there were people there. Or, what remains of what we can only call husks of people. Ashen, grey and flaky. Like that ifrit. They attacked us for no reason.” Cleo adds, catching Iris back on their story.

“So...how’d you stop them?” Micha questions, motioning for them to continue to follow towards the guild hall.

“We...didn’t really.” Cub rubs his neck, biting his lip. “We were outmatched, we didn’t know what to do at the time. I portaled them away, and we escaped.”

“You survived, that’s what matters.” Micha soothes, brushing the white toga he wears, reminding himself and the disgruntled Iris of their position as healers. “What did magistrate Dolios do when you told him what you saw?”

“Nothing. He sent us away, and did nothing. He didn’t even pay us.” Iskall hisses. “What a mega douche.”

“That’s an understatement.” A shaken, elderly voice rises above Micha and the creaking noise of their guild halls opening. “At least you answered my plea for help.”

The guild turns, peering into the dark halls. Across the overturned chairs and broken chandeliers, past the tables turned hospital beds. But the guildmaster is regal, even in her worst hours. Wisened eyes and a kind, wrinkled face is framed by silver hair. The old woman rises from her chair, her movement surprisingly agile despite her age. Fingers curl around her staff, the gemstone at the peak glowing as she moves. TFC recognizes the crystal as labradorite- an enchanted staff. Clever.

“You spoke with the Council as well?” Xisuma tilts his head. She doesn’t look like she can walk from her bed to the bathroom without help, much less all the way to Milliara.

“When these ‘husk’ attacks all started, we were hundreds strong.” Galena motions her staff to the expansive guild hall. “The Asklepions are masters of healing, many of us hailing from the great schools of Edenswell. As you can see now, there is hardly more than a dozen of us left, and no amount of pandering or begging can get the council to aid us.”

“They wouldn’t help a healing guild?” Grian frowns, pouting with his arms crossed.

“They wouldn’t help a legal guild?” Doc raises his eyebrows.

“You guys aren’t legal?!” Iris squawks, shushed by Micha. She’s left to grumble, stalking off into the dredges of the guild hall.

“I first went to the council. Magistrate Dolios turned down my request, the bastard.” Her thin lips curl, pleased to say such a dirty word. “I went to the Council guilds, each and every one of them. The same answer. There was only one person who could help us, one person above even the Council.”

“King Sor.” Stress whispers.

“Smart girl. Most don’t remember a time when the crown had a say in the nation’s dealings. Not since Dolios rose to power.” Galena nods her head slowly. “I went to King Sor, begged for him to help.”

“And he said no as well?” Etho takes an educated guess, seeing the disaster the Asklepions are in now.

“He said yes. Such a kind young man, a good king. Only wants the best for his people. King Sor expressed concern, fear for us. He wanted to help.”

“So why didn’t he?” TFC tilts his head. The king could have easily sent the entire arcane guard to put an end to all of this.

“When the young king expressed his concern about these husk attacks, the entire throne room was swarmed with the Arcane guard- not the royal guard. They ushered King Sor from the hall, and promptly arrested his advisor, Tristea.” Galena closes her eyes, breath shaking across wrinkles. “I have never seen such fear in a person’s eyes than what I saw in Sormena’s eyes, I swear I saw his hair turn a mix of blue, purple, and copper.”

The hermits share furrowed, concerned expressions mirrored across all their faces. Mumbo and Stress glance at each other, mouthing the name of their king. Who they both remember when he was just a prince. They both attended his coronation, what felt like a whole different life ago. Sor was always concerned about others, but he wasn’t afraid to speak his mind. This Sor Gelana speaks of is nothing like the one they knew.

“So you’ve been fighting the husks all on your own? No arcane guards? Just…” Doc motions around at the destroyed guild hall. The last bastion to the dozen or so healing mages that remained. “Just a bunch of peaceful healers with no offensive magic?”

“You’d be surprised how clever we healers can get when backed into a corner.” Iris growls. “We may not like it, but we’ve been able to hold our own, at least the best we can. My magic can set bones- but it can also break them.” She clenches her fist, causing Keralis to jump back. He swears he can hear the sound of a bone snapping, but no one cries out in pain.

“But even then, we aren’t enough on our own.” Micha shakes his head. “That’s why we need you. Do you think you can help?”

TFC looks around, at the dark hall. A hall that once was filled with life, with white robed healers mingling among patients and fellow guildmembers, sharing their meals in the warm glow of torches on the ancient wood tables that stretched down the hall. Now, the torches are out and the seats are empty, tables for food now makeshift hospital beds and barricades against the doors. This place is nothing like Gildara. If anything, it’s worse. There was no sign of struggle in Gildara, only a lack of life. But here, he can see the life fading, burnt and broken. And with each healer, each guildmember that dies, they take a bit with it. Filling the land with death.

Whatever these husks are, whatever kind of dark magic they’re from, it steals life, and leaves only death. “We-”

The door behind the hermits slams open, heavy oak bouncing off the aged wood walls. A lithe man is gasping for breath, blood coating his white alb and ash clinging to the hem. Half of the healers jump into action, drawing their circles and weapons. Every single hermit brandishes their own magic, waiting to see if the man is a husk or human.

He lifts his head, revealing deep brown eyes and a feverish face. “They’re back. On the Western rise. More than I’ve ever seen.”

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yaz-the-spaz · 5 years ago

Text

Purgatory (it's our paradise)

summary: liam has made a grave mistake, one that’s cost him everything. or so he thinks...

[or, what happens when fallen angel liam meets ifrit zayn]

a/n: This was alternatively going to be called ‘heaven in your eyes’ as the original parenthetical part of the title, but then I remembered the obvious line from pillow talk and couldn't resist

inspired by my friend @lstarry who originally sent me the liam pic and got the conversation rolling on fallen angel liam, which ofc forced this plotbunny into my head lol

fyi angels cry glittery tears in this

and also, to be clear, this is not exactly meant to THE purgatory, but just something like it/equivalent to it, a place on a similar plane but separate from all the other creatures/souls that would be in actual purgatory

rated: T (only for some slightly graphic descriptions of blood and gore, other than that this is mostly just G rated angsty fluff)

______________________________________________________________________

He shouldn’t be here.

That is the only thing that keeps running through Liam’s mind as he traipses on an endless journey through this foreboding forest, whipping thickets of thorny branches and brambles away from his face and arms, trying his best to shield his body from the worst of the blows with his wings. His wings which have already started to take on a mottled dark tawny color, slowly and steadily blackening the longer he spends here. It won’t be long now. Before they’re fully black. Before the ether of this place has turned his very soul into something dark and twisted. Or at least those are the stories he was always told. He doesn’t know how true they are. But he supposes he’s been spared an even more wicked fate. He could be in a place much worse than here. A place full of nothing but…the most absolute vile depravities and monstrous abominations, a place full of nothing but endless suffering and torment. Here at least toes the line, not quite pure, not quite evil, but rather hovering delicately somewhere in between.

It’s his own fault though. All of it. He just couldn’t keep his stupid mouth shut. He’s always done his best to be so good. To fall in line. For so long he’s played the obedient little soldier, never questioning, never disobeying. But he just couldn’t do it any longer. He couldn’t do it. And now he’s gone and gotten himself cast out. Forever. Lost the only family he’s ever known, the only home he’s ever known. Traded it for this place, condemned to an eternity of loneliness, darkness.

He doesn’t want to cry, doesn’t want to give Father the satisfaction—because Liam knows He’s still watching, even here. But he can’t help it. He grieves for all that he’s lost, all that he’s given up in return for a life of squalor and desolation, tears sparkling at his eyes.

It wasn’t worth it.

If he could go back and do it all again, he wouldn’t. He’d keep his mouth shut, play the good soldier for the rest of eternity no matter the personal cost to him. He’d rather suffer in miserable silence the rest of his days, surrounded by his family, than be trapped here alone in this awful place, with no hope, no chance for redemption. This cold, dark place that is slowly sucking the light right out of him, leeching on all the tendrils of good still remaining within him.

Abruptly he reaches the edge of the forest, the heavy darkness ebbing away only slightly to illuminate a large clearing before him and he gasps, stopping short at the sight in front of him.

In the middle of the clearing is a creature, crouched down over another. The fog is too thick at the moment to make much out for certain but Liam can smell death in the air. Terror-struck, he darts back behind the trunk of the nearest tree.

But it’s too late. They’ve seen him.

A wicked-sounding laugh carries itself on the current of the air, almost as if tangible, as if latching itself onto the fog until it reaches Liam, sounding as if coming from right beside him. He jumps, darting to another tree, the taunting laughter somehow seeming to follow him, his own panting breaths coming short and fast in his ears. Back and forth he weaves between the trees, the laughter still seeming to echo behind him no matter which direction he goes, until finally it fades. And then a sudden thought occurs to him. He doesn’t know how much of it is the steady darkness creeping in, taking hold of him. He’s never thought anything like it before. Never had reason to before now. But he realizes that if the thing, the creature, in the clearing has killed another, then it is possible to be killed here. Not just hurt or maimed, but killed. He has never known the threat of death before. It was not a possibility for him back home, with Father.

He’d thought himself condemned to a miserable eternity here, but…perhaps not. Perhaps…there is another way out. Perhaps Father has given him some chance at solace after all. Surely ceasing to exist would be a better fate than endless millennia of this? A peaceful respite from a lifetime of loneliness and suffering, a lifetime of being consumed by immeasurable guilt and regret.

Resolute in his sudden decision, Liam steps out from behind the tree and ambles forward. If he is to meet his end today, he will meet it head on, like the soldier he was bred to be.

As he steps forward, however, the fog starts to clear a little and he realizes that the creature is not what he thought at all. Not the ghastly beast he was imagining, but a thin waif of a thing. Like him it has been made in Father’s image. Two arms, two legs, a face with a congruence of features not all that unlike his own. Two eyes, a mouth, a nose, even ears. Though, unlike Liam, it has no wings.

“What has Father sent me?” it calls out into the foggy darkness, in the deep voice of a male entity. “Come closer, let me see my gift.”

Curious, Liam steps further into the clearing, the fog wafting and parting around him, creating a path of sorts between them, allowing them to view each other more clearly.

“An angel?” the creature inquires aloud, his smile wicked-looking as he sets his sights on Liam. “Come, little angel. Don’t be afraid.”

As Liam edges closer more details start to come into view. A dead thing, more animal-like in nature, lays before the creature, body crumpled and twisted, covered in blood. It is obvious from the state of the carnage that there was a struggle, though whether this kill was for food or for pleasure, it is unclear.

But Liam is not afraid.

Moving forward still, his eyes meet the other’s, close enough to take him in fully. He is beautiful, Liam realizes. A particular, sharp, striking sort of beauty that Father only reserves for a lucky few of His creations. Already Liam was ready to meet this creature head-on, to accept whatever fate may befall him in their encounter, but strangely he finds himself being drawn in even more by the other’s gaze. His eyes are a warm brown, again not unlike Liam’s, but there is something else, something…volatile and fervid lurking behind them, something almost intoxicating in its intensity even.

Gaze still trained on Liam, who is still edging closer, the creature lifts his hand to brandish a dagger fashioned out of sharp-cut bone. He holds it purposefully in front of him, but somehow Liam can sense there is not a threat in it. Though he’s unsure if that is a good or a bad thing. A part of him wants the threat, wants the assurance of a welcome death, without the hindrance of games and dalliances. But still he moves forward, their eyes still trained on each other, the dagger still held firmly, but somehow also playfully, in the creature’s hand.

When Liam is only a few arms’ lengths away the creature’s smile briefly turns from wicked to animated—a strange, almost frenzied glee in it—before softening again, returning back to that more mischievous air as he brings the dagger toward his mouth. Eyes still reeling Liam in, he waits for Liam to get closer, closer. And then he licks the dagger, slowly and languidly, watching Liam like a taunt. And that's when Liam realizes that it's blood he's licking, all the while still looking Liam right in his eyes. Liam can’t look away. He shouldn’t find the sight so enticing but he does. This place is already starting to turn him, he realizes. Or perhaps it is whatever hidden power lies behind this stranger’s gaze. He doesn’t know, but he suddenly finds he doesn’t care.

Drawn in by those magnetic eyes, Liam stands there. Watching. Waiting. For what, he isn’t sure, but oddly he feels he could be content to watch this creature forever. Even if the creature was doing nothing at all, Liam thinks he would still want to watch.

When he has licked all the blood away, he sets the knife down and digs his other hand into the animal, pulling away neatly-cut strips of flesh that he must have already carved up earlier, before Liam arrived. Then he sticks his bloody hand out toward Liam, long strips of flesh dangling over his palm.

“To share,” he says simply.

It is nothing like the food Liam would have eaten back home, the sweet fruits that blossomed with flavor in his mouth. But he has been wading through the forest for what he is certain must have been at least a handful of millennia, if not more, and he is so hungry. He may not have view of the humans’ world any longer to help him mark the passage of time but he remembers what a millennium felt like and his journey through the forest had certainly not been a short one, even by his own kind’s standards of time.

Longingly, he drops to his knees, mouth watering, and takes the helpings offered to him, sinking his teeth in.

It is not altogether pleasant, but it is not entirely unpleasant either, and he finds it warms his belly in a rather soothing and satisfying way that the food of home never did.

When they have eaten their fill, and there is nothing left but bones and discarded scraps of skin, they settle back against the ground, faces tilted up to the sky. Through the fog, the faint twinkle of stars is still visible and it makes him long for home, a strange ache to his body. But a sudden soft touch to the feathers at the edge of his left wing startles him out of his thoughts and he abruptly sits back up.

The other creature mirrors him, sitting up to face Liam and they simply watch each other for a while before he reaches out again. Liam’s wing flinches a little, unused to such a touch from someone who is not his family.

“What are you?” Liam asks, the creature eyes still set on Liam’s face even while he pets delicately and curiously at Liam’s wing.

“I am ifrit. Born of fire.”

Liam only distantly remembers learning of the ifrit. There are some of Liam’s kind who have been around since the time of their creation, who remember when their own kind and the ifrit roamed earth freely with the humans, before there was so much separation of all the different realms. But that was long before Father created Liam, and he has never known a time of such freedom himself.

“What is your name?”

“I am called Zayn,” the creature says, still enamored by Liam’s wings. “And you?”

“Liam.”

“Liam,” Zayn repeats. “Hello, Liam.”

“Hello, Zayn.”

The fog around them has dissipated a bit more and Liam looks around, curiously. He wonders if this is the ifrit’s home. And if so where is his family? Surely there are others of his kind here that he lives among? Unless perhaps he is from another place, but has been cast out too, like Liam. He wishes he could remember more about the stories of the ifrit but he supposes it is really of no matter. They are both here now. They must make the best of it. At least he seems friendly, and willing to share.

“So soft,” Zayn says, still petting at Liam’s feathers. He smiles again but there is no seeming wickedness or deviousness to it this time, no manic excitement. Instead it is gentle, almost a wondrous, joyful sort of expression. “Father has sent me such a lovely gift.”

Liam frowns. “I am not a gift.”

“Of course you are,” he says, as if Liam is the one being silly. As if he can’t even fathom that Liam has only been sent here for punishment.

Liam sighs. Stupid ifrit. Perhaps he’s gone mad in his time here. Liam hopes that is not the fate that awaits him too.

“Where are you from?” Liam says instead, voicing his thoughts aloud. “Is this your home or were you cast out from your family too?”

“I am born of fire,” Zayn repeats.

Liam sighs again. Of course. The very moment he thinks he’s found solace in a possible companion, and it turns out Father has only cursed him yet again with a half-mad fire creature.

“Poor angel,” Zayn says sadly, still petting at him, but further down, where the feathers are still white instead of black or faded brown. “You are born of the light, but your light is fading here.”

Liam looks back at him, surprised but still resigned. He may not be all there, but at least he isn’t as dim-witted as Liam had worried he might be.

But then he dashes even that hope, saying, “That must be why Father sent you to me.”

“He didn’t send me to you,” Liam retorts. “He sent me here as punishment, and I only happened to run into you.” He’s annoyed that he even has to explain any of this, but the slow-witted ifrit just doesn’t seem to get it.

Zayn smiles, shaking his head at Liam. “Funny little angel. You were born directly in Father’s light but you still don’t understand Him at all, do you?”

Liam’s mouth drops open. How dare this daft creature insult him in such a way!

“Come,” Zayn simply says, suddenly standing and sticking out his hand for Liam to take.

Liam staunchly refuses, shaking his head and staying seated. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”

“Come,” Zayn repeats, more insistently, flexing his outstretched hand a bit for emphasis.

“No.”

“Would you rather take your chances alone with a full pack of those?” Zayn juts his head toward the now-bare carcass of the animal they ate. Liam blows out a breath through his nose, frustrated. He supposes Zayn has a point. He’d been lucky enough to avoid any dangerous encounters during his time in the forest. But if he lets Zayn leave without him now, he’ll be stuck here all alone in an area he’s guessing those animals are more likely to frequent, and with none of his angelic weapons—they’d been revoked upon his banishment—to defend himself with. He has no desire to die that way. He may have welcomed the idea of death before, with Zayn, but at least that would have been a warrior’s death. Not so with a pack of wild beasts.

Reluctantly, he stands, taking Zayn’s hand and they start to walk...

[Read the rest on AO3 here]

#ziam #ziam fics #my fics #purgatory fic #fallen angel liam #ifrit zayn #also i hope ppl still like my really shitty attempt at a #moodboard #lol #i put so much time and work into it and i still feel like it came out pretty crap but #what are you gonna do lol

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