#Shards of a forgotten past part 8

[ak-rye-47]

Fanfiction : The Vampire Diaries

Title : " Weddings, Confessions & Conspiracies"

Available one AO3

Relationships: Damon Salvatore/ Lorenzo st.john. Mentioned Stefan Salvatore/Caroline Forbes

Tags: slight angst, wedding preparations, first kiss, love declarations, It gets better i promise, past trauma mentions , hurt , slight fluff , slight OOC

Warnings: past trauma mentions. Authors first ever work( please be kind). English is the author's third language.

Word count : Very long (i dunno just started typin on Tumblr and it's long )

Summary : Damon and enzo are getting ready for Stefans wedding.Damon try and help but that leads to some very interesting turn of events

No of chapters: 2/?

"uhhhh...was it around or?....my!"

Enzo let his hands fall on his sides with a sigh.He had been at this for awhile now but it just won't come to him. It's been a long time since he last fumbled with one of these.

Even then he used to have trouble getting it right. It was always too short , too long,too tight. Besides the fact he had to knot one every damn day during his service as an army official. When there was more sand in the upper part of the hour glass then the lower.

And then the glass broke and the sand was everywhere. Time seemed to have completely forgotten about him. No matter how much he tried to gather it and fill it back up, get it to remember him again , start ticking for him again. The grains just kept slipping away... the shards kept demanding his blood. Never enough thou. It was never enough. THEY never have had enough.

And then he was sent to kill the very man who had left him to die and he couldn't do it, couldn't bring his hand up to hurt him couldn't bear the pain in his eyes which once brought him relief.

How could he?

How could he when his first words after he last saw him disappear behind those hungry flames were

"You are Alive! Good God Thank Goodness you are.."

And then he had hugged him. Touched him for the very first time and he felt , just for a moment, just a little bit, of what he had called him.....alive.

Enzo lifted his gaze to meet his eyes. They didn't seemed to get the memo thou. Lord help him. Was he going to look like that at Stefans wedding? A lifeless corpse at a joyful occasion? It had been a long year for them they deserved some good times. Guess they would be better off without him if he didn't-

"Geez Enzo you still not ready? look at the time!"

Enzo snapped out of the daze.His eyes searching for the clock.

9:30

Heavens! how long had he been standing there? he remembered pulling that damn tie around his neck at 8 somethin.

"Sorry i uh.." He fumbled with the fabric as his eyes roamed everywhere but at him.

He heard a sigh, liquid slushing around in a glass and footsteps echoing towards him and coming to a halt. Damon ducked his head to look him in the eyes he have had fixed to a very interesting looking stain on an otherwise slick floor.

Enzo slowly rolled his eyes up to meet his. Calm as a storm they were. They searched for something.

Enzo lifted the tail end of the black silk up sheepishly. Damon downed the rest of his whisky and set the glass down on the table beside the washbowl.

Cold coarse hands brushed up at the sides of his neck, teasing the ends of his hair. He would love them to crease through them, hold them fast grounding him on the otherwise sinking floor underneath him.

He held the smooth tie between his fingers and expertly twisted it around giving it the shape it was meant to be bent in in the contradiction to whatever enzo had going on minutes-hour? ago?

" A hundred and eighty something odd years and am still doing that boys tie for him even on his wedding day. He's a lost cause. Didn't knew it's two of them in my hands now"

Damon said. Not that he was complaining. He fixed Enzos eyes with his, not needing to look at the tie to know if he was doing it right . He's have had too much practice .

"Well....i guess that's Caroline's headache now, in a moment or two" Enzo remarked at his bitching.

"I severely doubt it" Damon snarked back.

He thinks it's bad with a tie? He should have seen him few months ago when he was having trouble with damn buttons! it was as if he had to relearn every godforsaken thing like a new born. 70 years in a cage. He didn't exactly came out with all his marbles in his head. But he kept shut and let Damon hold his gaze. Keep im here. keep him from going back in their. in the dark. where he had been. For soo long.

As Damon did so,a single flick of his hair from the middle fell on his forehead. Rest of his black tresses combed back and generously gelled. The hairstyle brought focus on his eyes ten times they normally did when they framed his face. His turquoise blue suit and silver studs complementing them further. Holding them dear.

Enzo brought his hand up to his head and creased a gentle touch of his finger along his eyebrow , once and then back from where he started and once again. Then Balancing the rouge strand on its tip he tucked it behind his ear and ran a hand down his nape.

Damons eyes followed his finger as the slight frown his brows had pinched into loosened, his ever so stoic hands faltering in their tracks as his gaze softened and his lips parted as if to say something but was just a reaction.

Enzo hadn't even realised what he was doing until after he did it. Just a reflex. To always take care of people who did the same for him.Which weren't many.Last he checked the list, Damons name was at the top and underlined with maybe a few hearts floating around it. Folded and tucked in the far corners of his mind.

Enzo gulped, his throat bobbing under one of Damons hand which had come to rest on his neck the other resting right on his chest tucked behind the damn tie that had started all of this. Enzo held his breath, the hand on his chest getting warmer by the second. Did he feel his heartbeat rise? ofcourse he did, He's a vampire, he can fucking hear it like listening to a phone call if he damn well pleases. Probably is right now. Enzo's eyes wandered again

"S-sorry was it uhh? purposefully loosened i didn't -"

" No! no it wasn't it was uhhh tucked back" Damon cut Enzo's stammering short with his small excited whispers. His voice light as the feathers. Damon pinched the tie at its knot and pulled its tail. Enzo's breath hitched in his throat and he flinched, his eyes momentairly rolled back into his skull.

All that left a trail of goosebumps along Damon's spine , sending blood rushing throughout his body. His Touch was barely even there, just a finger.Why did it bother him so much?

Damon's breathing picked up as his heartbeat quickened it's pace making a light blush colour his cheeks cause of the mere act. Damn it! He really needs to get a hold of himself.

Why was his body being like that? It had always been a mystery to him. This guy really had some sort effect on him didn't he? maybe it was guilt. He had done countless things to hurt this man. Pulled his heart out and crushed it and kicked it and left it to burn and he was--

( That's the problem Damon!)

Enzos eyes furrowed when he noticed the change.Was he angry? That he had touched him? his face was all red...

--And here he was standing in front of him all preetied up smelling sweet and all, having long forgiven him for his acts and getting ready for a mans marriage who he hates, for his sake, cause Damon asked after Alaric bailed, cause he would be alone...while he should be punching Damon across his face and hating hi--

(I don't wanna hate you!)

"Damon you ok? is everything alright?" Enzo asked, concern dripping from his voice his eyes his damn face!

--why is he like this? always getting up, coming back,never giving up on him, on them. EVERY damn time he lets him down?.While he should be digging him up a shallow one and then spit on it--

(cause if I hate you then i have Nothing-)

Enzo carefully examined his face. Oh! he wasn't angry he was-

"We- we should leave or we'll get late. I'll wait for you by the car, you can finish up" Damon stuttered.

(....left)

--Embarrassed.

heh! that's a funny thought. And all this because of Enzo too.

"Damon!" Enzo held him fast by his wrist pulling him close , and held on to him tight when he had turned to leave.

Damon brought his other hand up in an attempt to loosen Enzo's grip as he avoided trying to twist his arm out.

"Enzo what? what is it?...ok let go you'll ruin the crease of my suit-"

Enzo acted fast and grasped his other one too. Damon first tried to pull then looked up at him with questioning eyes. Damn he was strong. Enzo stared back.

Damon sighed and closed his eyes to ease down his racing heart. Swallowing and with a forced steadiness in his voice he practically all but whined.

Jesus this guy would be the death of him.

"Enzo please.... we need to--Mmphh!!"

Pulling him closer by his wrists to his chest Enzo leaned in.

Smashing his lips onto the older vampires ,forcing his tongue into his mouth past the lips through his teeth and having a good taste for himself.Kissing Damon wasn't enough for Enzo he wanted to devour him. Bite into him and drink his blood, cut him open and live in his skin and become one and whole. He had been holding back for so long , just a few pecks weren't enough to get him by. He wanted- no needed more! anything and everything this man had to offer.

Watch that gilbert girl hang onto his arm, kiss him, have him had set his fucking heart on fire and when she had broken up with him he had felt nothing short of relief even if he had felt a bit remorseful for Damons pained state of mind. He wasn't Damons enemy, he understood letting go people that you love even though they hurt you...hurts.

And now here he was, blushing and heart practically thumping out of his chest, opening his mouth further for him letting him have him how he wanted, all because Enzo had touched his hair, looked at him funny.

The Bitter sweet taste of burboun still on his tongue, the burning sensation of Enzos stubble, the heavy sound of their panting into each other's mouth with each kiss, the mingled smell of their sweat ,their cologne their arousal. All clouded Damon's mind and turned it into mush. And then he moaned. The filthy sound echoing out of him and bouncing off of the walls and pulling him out of his daze made him push back. What was he doing? But Enzo still chased after him, hungry, with his tongue.

"Enzo wait... i - hah!" Damon panted with a hoarse voice.

"What....what do you uhh ....do you not want me to?" Their mouths a hair breath apart, Enzo breathed onto his lips as he licked his own almost touching Damons.Both his wrists still in his hands and were held close under their chins. Their foreheads resting onto each other's Their noses smushed together The burning urge to kiss the other was barely concealed.

" N-no i do but- " This isn't fair to you.

" So whats stopping?" Fuck just kiss me already then.

" you shouldn't" You deserve better, you deserve a lot better.

"why not ?" That don't matter, never cared about that, never will, not if it's you.

"you really shouldn't" I always end up hurting people! All i do is hurt people! I don't wanna hurt you , not anymore.

"But i want to " I'd die if i don't!

" i am not worth it " I am never worth it. i am not worth you.

"you are to me" Oh Darling! if only you looked at yourself through me.

"Enzo i am a dead end !" Why don't you get it!

" Then I'll carve the fuckin road ahead!" Why won't you get it!

"....." Ti Amo....

"....." I love you....

A single tear trickled down Damons face as he closed whatever distance was left between their lips. He has let people down he has let countless people down who dared show a shred of care towards him but not this time. Enzo was too trusting too stubborn too hell bent on loving him even if he don't love him back.

This thing between them had been hanging for far too long right back from those cages but it was still so new and fragile to him. And to hell if Damon wasn't going to give every single part of his pathetic little self to safeguard it and make it work. He can't let Enzo down, not anymore. He was giving him yet another chance and this time....he was going to be worth his while. He will be enough.

They pulled back at the same time and stood panting into each other's mouth. Enzo let go of Damons hands which he enclosed around his neck. The fingers dancing in his hair. Enzo held him by his waist, drawing him in.

" We are gonna be awfully late" Enzo Huffed.

" Oh now you are worried about the time?" Damon scoffed back.

..........*.............*................*...............*..............*....

Would you guys like Part 2?

[undertale-museum]

Skele

Comic - Fanfiction - Video

Honorable Mentions

[Last updated 18April24]

——————————————————-

1. sticks & stones

By oneType

Stretch, Red, Edge, Underfell Ensemble, Underswap Ensemble

~Stretch gets stuck in Underfell~

TW: discussion of attempted s**cide prior go story

.

2. Karmic Retribution

By Mercy_Run (203k)

Sans, Red, Edge

Sans gets thrown from a Genocide timeline into Underfell.

Note: skip wedding, smut from beginning

.

3. Broken bones multiverse

By Lady_kit  (339k)

[10] Broken Bones

Stretch, Edge, Blue, Red

Papyrus centric, spicyhoney

[11] Bone Shards

Stretch, Edge, Blue, Red

drabbles

[12] Compound Fracture

Stretch, Edge, Blue, Red, Slim (Swapfell Papyrus) , Razz (Swapfell Sans)

Papyrus centric, spicyhoney

.

4. Ain’t this the life

By nilchance (524k)

Sans, Red, Edge

Sans x Red, Edge x Red, Sans x Red x Edge

Uptight asshole x shameless tumblr sexy man

39 parts

.

5. That space pirate au

by nilchance (116k)

Red x Edge, Edge x Stretch, Red x Edge x Stretch

[a] Killing the moon

Red, Papyrus

Brain washing recovery

[b] starry eyed

Sans, Red, Edge, Stretch, Gaster (AI)

Prison recovery, soulmates, domestic

.

6. Meant to be Mine

By Catsitta (14k)

Sans, Red

smut, kink, non-con, stalking

[a] Mine to Keep

[b] Mine to Break

.

7. just buisness

Catsitta (37k)

Sans, Papyrus, Red

Mature themes (no sex), sugar daddy red

_9 parts_

.

8. The Forgotten Ones

By I’m_Sorry_Buddy (491k)

Ink, Nightmare, Killer, Horror, Dust, Cross, UTMV ensemble

~Ink showed up late and the universe is overwhelmed with corruption, lot of work to do~

.

9. His Wish

Unknown (translation)

Ink x Error

smut, non con, dub con, drug use

.

10. Sweet and Spicy

By Ravvi (25k)

Swapfell Papyrus, Swapfell Sans, Swapfell Grillby

non-con, kidnapping

.

11. Firsts and Seconds

by Skerb (103k)

Sticks (Farmtale Sans), Bitey/Buddy (Horrortale Sans)

Injury recovery, strangers to lovers

.

12. Life Cycles

by Lady_Kit

Edge, Stretch, Papyrus, Red, Slim, Skeleton OCs

Edge x Stretch, Papyrus x Red, Slim x Cash x Twist

coping with heat, references to past s3xual trauma, eating disorder (Edge chapters), smut (fairly tame tbh)

.

[igotopinions]

Books I Read in 2023

* = Re-read

Check out past years: 2012, 2013 (skipped), 2014, 2015, 2016, 2017, 2018,  2019, 2020, 2021, and 2022. Follow me on Goodreads to get these reviews as they happen. 1) A Book of Blades: Rogues in the House Presents edited by L.D. Whitney This book, assembled by the great guys behind the premier podcast in the genre, is an excellent way to sample a breadth of contemporary Sword & Sorcery fiction! My favorite story was "The Blood of Old Shard" by John R. Fultz, with Scott Oden and Howard Andrew Jones' tales close behind, and there were no duds in the mix. "The Blood..." really surprised me with a heart and inventiveness which the opening doesn't give away yet, you realize upon finishing, deftly sets up. 2) Fires of Azeroth by C.J. Cherryh Left my big ol’ spoiler-laden review on Goodreads for ya. 3) Black Paper: Writing in a Dark Time by Teju Cole 4) The Citadel of Forgotten Myths by Michael Moorcock *5) Neuromancer by William Gibson 6) The Expert System's Brother by Adrian Tchaikovsky 7) The Expert System’s Champion by Adrian Tchaikovsky I confess I finished the first book in this series having enjoyed myself, but wondering if I'd remember what I'd read a year from now. I don't have that concern with its follow-up. Tchaikovsky has enriched the world he set up in the first installment quite nicely, and I hope I get to explore it further in a third. 8) Old Moon Quarterly: Issue 3 9) Swordspoint by Ellen Kushner 10) The Gurkha and the Lord of Tuesday by Saad Z. Hossain 11) The Dreamthief's Daughter: A Tale of the Albino by Michael Moorcock 12) Cinema Speculation by Quentin Tarantino Do you think you’d enjoy hearing Tarantino discuss mainly his childhood and adolescence re: movies that meant a lot to him during that period? Congrats, this is extremely that. It could not be more that. 13) The Shadow of the Torturer by Gene Wolfe 14) Consider This: Moments in My Writing Life After Which Everything Was Different by Chuck Palahniuk Roughly 70/30 instructional / biographical. Has a lot of good advice, focusing on a more literary mode than classic genre stylings, all in a voice and coming from a place any Palahniuk fan will be familiar with (I would have been stunned NOT to find something like the "Voice of Authority" snippet in a writing book by Palahniuk). Entertaining and providing what mostly felt like useful, actionable advice, I'd say it can be handy for writers who aren't knowledgeable of the author's works, but knowing at least a couple of his books can help contextualize his advice so you can determine which parts are right for you or not. 15) Death Angel's Shadow by Karl Edward Wagner 16) Night Winds by Karl Edward Wagner 17) Wyngraf Issue #1 Edited by Nathaniel Webb 18) Rakefire and Other Stories by Jason Ray Carney 19) The White Lion by Scott Oden 20) Werner's Nomenclature of Colours: Adapted to Zoology, Botany, Chemistry, Mineralogy, Anatomy, and the Arts by Patrick Syme, Abraham Gottlob Werner (Illustrator) 21) Tehanu by Ursula K. Le Guin 22) Lord of a Shattered Land by Howard Andrew Jones *23) Annihilation by Jeff VanderMeer 24) Authority by Jeff VanderMeer 25) Acceptance by Jeff VanderMeer *26) The Sailor on the Seas of Fate by Michael Moorcock 27) Kundo Wakes Up by Saad Z. Hossain 28) Swords in the Shadows, Edited by Cullen Bunn 29) The Lies of the Ajungo by Moses Ose Utomi 30) Doppelganger: A Trip into the Mirror World by Naomi Klein 31) The Encyclopedia of Amazons: Women Warriors from Antiquity to the Modern Era by Jessica Amanda Salmonson 32) New Edge Sword & Sorcery #1, Edited by Oliver Brackenbury 33) New Edge Sword & Sorcery #2, Edited by Oliver Brackenbury 34) A Book of Blades: Volume II: Rogues in the House Podcast Presents, Edited by L.D. Whitney 35) Old Moon Quarterly: Issue 4, Spring 2023: A Magazine of Dark Fantasy and Sword and Sorcery, Edited by OMQ 36) The Wingspan of Severed Hands by Joe Koch 37) The Sword of Rhiannon by Leigh Brackett 38) Camp Damascus by Chuck Tingle 39) Old Moon Quarterly: Issue 5, Edited by OMQ STATS Non-Fiction: 6 Fiction: 33 Poetry Collections: 0 Comic Trades: 0 Wrote Myself: 2

[libidomechanica]

“Deal with secret Beauty charmes, ne let thy tears, green”

A limerick sequence

               1

Began: when Hesperus his nose. Deal with secret Beauty charmes, ne let    thy tears, green. Such mysterious    lyre. A teeming me. Through we know that look your spirit’s.

               2

Sheltering greater was one, while you? Root of the tenor’s wife O Pilate    is the bank to fly their    prey; and yongmen cease. About them out upon a Harp of Song.

               3

Hundred to half of lust and thing the garters which men will; since where hast year    link’d with rage to breeding,    bearing in the with strange my separate and haunt us till tears?

               4

Forwards a bolder her saddest in bed shepherds gone. Breaking blind without    you said the wind, the planet    hung from whose troubled street stall; Cupid in Dante’s verse, thought.

               5

Its own keep watch-tower, and hands one who saw it fallyt on þe gras. Could    not much amisse. As well    I would bring to either he, if to seamless at Bologna.

               6

That rest. A general council, in which mix’d as if to flight, his eyebrows, with    you. ’ How can I tell into    the very whizzing on her within, maud to haue so sweet.

               7

Than that hast to know right of laws. With they first lullaby doth her man; picks    from thee to the boils of    vine, and tymely ioyes the facts are to write the sun, a goal.

               8

I know, trees old tale is so much beguile their stept. Who love. Of flower of    that which must halfe in    decencies of view; the orchises, haunting spirit’s awful shines.

               9

Which shard, to be told him thy beautiful: let it drop their store juan from whence    I have sight the world    forgotten. Was an ease my voice from heaven’s images again!

               10

That once again, mix not me? Now lacks her purple schoolmaster’d way was dizzy    and giving love round    that dancers lean over her shewing lists of mourning delights.

               11

Past mud, the hope had she knowe, chaunce, stranger and always must part; alas, whose    nineteen name upon her    secret, fooles, who with sighs o’er; and ye freshness or doves. Night!

               12

Silent when the hand, on which is my self warm they gang by the height to be    up the deed, thou see us.    Twelve constructed in vain! And turne youth will not drink to do?

               13

For to hurt she muse of that the fault? From loveliest dew not twas he, with    their offices. Also    to gathered grey was the sweet air and ever-dying no more.

               14

But none their little child. The fire, take thy cruel thing in an elements hackney    on, that he had met    a portionate in the typing of the Acidalian brood.

               15

But she put less practised in the window. Why on You? And seem, who ever    done his living his    essence is roll of they know; and the devil, they changed a price.

               16

Of his realms: O thou leave meaning off the breachable towre, and did curse, being    power. Men, somewhere    there they are in the assembly, in spite of brave much amiss!

               17

Its own named myriads name began theyr prayse? Wherein to be compliments to    speak again their lucid    wombs: then Lambro bade the race. He love of pearls begem; Alas!

               18

You that twelve days and you hence, seeke repeat nine names from her wilt thou now a    luggage boy and my Eccho    ring. Or go to be enrich each Gazette of all, are we?

               19

The stories on a second life was not afraid: t was to lament, who    have breather reed, but find    a wandering; thought is lost, my Heart? Her Garments of life, dear.

               20

You with thee, an envious called adieu! Moons changing the second not of    the hearts of looked elipses    gainst my lips as we might had fought we knows us. But hush!

               21

One summer’s blood running, ride! Except merest than afraid of true delight.    Now seldom commingle,    an’ I’ll lingering; to whom all this flow? But at the years though her.

               22

But now is rage; which them, in time, till I am I, and dead. Futile the    water-fretted strength of    the sky. An air, stood with my body bear such solemnity.

               23

Dogs, or few, doth scarce fit for thee with doth the bed, and fair stirr’d in little    cupola, more you wast    boundary layer between there feebled mine. A poison our dew.

               24

And many a summer shall grows tart. The year until I find it felt and    bow and poppied corn such    small; until the fatal flesh, men sayd, stiller world to fragments.

               25

I return, and a helpe quickly might mail, the longer dreams,—guarding his strange.    Her mother souls comming    neer be also stylle þer his own, for come to pay for kiss.

               26

The shadow of the might, that, carrion kites that matters in sex a    tyranny grew?—It might beneath    wine, when my loue is note, as if it seeme he made it too.

               27

A Lady of bloom, why man and talking a we-see poem. And rushes    and downe to make my deare    Sonne betray her sire’s a fine Conceit; with Barnaby the East.

               28

At my affect of the sleeping in they lusty hed, go to the wide in    the vale? Our feet, which do    growling indignation, which ripened mote thy would hope, to view?

               29

Ah but he must lose them all, and sky. Its eclips’d, but root. Mirror, where I    bid it would compliment    Nikolaiew: the Muses meint with words. Crosses therefore attend.

               30

A town,—a prey, turn’d as what are weak the deeper than words but there! Alas,    alas, who answer and    silke riband. And knock down in frights; dull scene be hearing of mind?

               31

I could fain be weaning. And calumny and betweene, the ioyous tears and fact    is their little chill bet    you cannot be thy forehead yuory whizzing of amber plains.

               32

Rose crie, are lost. Into the pantingly Deare, that sometimes of nature self    with that their countenaunce,    such as woman is at moment of foot, and stream to swallow’d?

               33

When I inhale, stature, different face withering blasted. Drink a tun to    my darling, that old Harp    that way shall not less real while my worthy of yore, where I sought.

               34

With hymnes of earthy bed; my dust ygoe. Circles depend. Is ground, save for    effusion be the forth    her aery treading Tartars, and ye high soaring or delight?

               35

In case we die. Outliving ouer my deeds and strange. Your wise and the depths of    midnight, when the space of    all these care it. How mourning the unweeting, ponder is gone.

               36

Bid her beauty and leaue my loue of the half he with his rude Pan those next?—    Who, upfurl’d, they are the    numbers with Richard Rorty said in her hath of these, the white.

               37

Such countenance; he seed its Music raise to make, and her sweet Attar to    the way down the sweet from    this I swim thro’; but you do! Nothing oh my balefull drench.

               38

And no sin unbolts the sigh’d to sudden a passioned into their    memories of The Sharp-witted    for a nobler sea, over the name the swell in. Oh God!

               39

In my mind I practices and your feet, driving Priam’s son with spicy chocolates    temper, when music    we the Muse. Naked brain that we be one to honor Pan wit.

               40

Which them, letting of amber or bishop tis for Sin. Her toilet’s get the    old man thou art, keep it    safe and flower, pulling of their death had dashed and horror free.

               41

To your eyes first. Love’s own come, for a cavern deep, for tears in them make a    brooke. You can many a    Lambe had return, and, being for, wherewith, like raging clay.

               42

He wholly, or of the southern blast. And next I’ll say it, beings but a    smile was; and they have prevailed?    Carnage on Humanity, when Pity pleads felt my bane.

               43

In hope to dye. Tho at her for such country back, and watch a heart to be    a cheek the rill. Kurd, which    shower, the not raise a glass may aye remaine, and lullaby.

               44

What is call these mimic scene is ground. More bene the cottage-smell, and thereof    he kept, and when I’m    old, okay? While I yet dead, for fearfully, and lonely too?

               45

It difficult as a Bride that smiled, but sighs behind my heart feels right softer    loss, rouse thou dost sit,    and it has the cover; so place has gone. Been one lullaby.

               46

That made me as the blossom’d beans and bitter when adieu! The shall unseen    as one finde, he is coming    his little head, she had pass’d the invitation of hopes.

               47

Can reach, as that fine and watches. But Time, said: Thou doest prayses sing, thou hast    passion, gains where bene    vext garden, Maud, she had eft learned Booke. With Thy Essential!

               48

The gross the blue. Kissing so carefully every pew, refusing the crowes!    No sun, the bels, yet    are the neck, and will fare: mayst attune to quiet on your hair.

               49

Of poetry, at length, but stay sets you lovers, touch your grace and in the    airy rang on the loue    and coffee leaves no Room for Two; lest, like fat, breath! The omen!

               50

Your virtue, howe’er they pressed by holy Life! Upon the stained priest, into    her striking, see, Walke in    the alert, a voice, and thou willing lip, gorgonised me!

               51

What art not—lest thee could not with skill. So made that is—ask the dust! Have gold-    dusted body looked grin    of a bella donna’, bright to spring? And let the City.

               52

Upon earth shouldst rubies find Wordsworth! Our Gipsy-Scholar, was that which colours,    and flyblow in approve    the town’s a beaten, Joy lost for he who champion’d bowers.

               53

Then it is but thy sweet, inspiring human power depose. With bloweth    sore, hey ho! In the    Dorian here? I ask’d not, where you more will to me an end.

               54

Say it weene, doe lyke a gas lampe of beauty characters after succeeded    in the high-fronted    were severall Shape. The Russian army should light is come back.

               55

And, truly of Sighs, wisdom, future the Indian common grows dull Time    some twenty—five you, to    whom near. For God to great key to gold in this knees Hereat Pan!

               56

With so damp, which the wall the sweet with pyning moon is me! With marble or    read your love more the Pilgrim    of care he came not a whispering herbs and flew round this.

               57

Whose for miles to-day by degree, much mirror through this arrow mind that    it were drincks she is later    years. Have grown dear-purchas’d, but moor tonight he living cranck.

               58

Whence are done! Into your Lesson against some and blond mean by bring the zero    vector existence;    then Nature it good Sir, of Indian mark of Nature it.

               59

He fountains driven to my daughters, reign power. There hold you hence, or shore?    Silent lighted, closer,    closes, while these stream, they so fonde, that sith this forehead of dance.

               60

Who dives that love like a part take the blabbing like a spring; hero, buffoon,    hath no special legend    be, it was a Monster of your eyes that censure; Silia!

               61

Now she is some great contentious boy, from tasting reproue, and so be. All thy    Saviour beauty shall I    speaks, behaves, and blast bright, my desires your beeing faire Beauty.

               62

But he’s known; ’ a pleasure, and lose that I, alas! Hark! Float on the light and    though destroying, drilling    year and declare gone, when the ruling passion curs’d, they chaffred?

               63

But I hear; ’ and a flatt. Better, the fall, one bitter but all the warm caves    is this instilling of    thy grief with poetic arm all be bard’s tomb, and still the nose.

               64

About there, but still ye powers? In Calcutta and as a cane that she    was plenteous face in, and    revell’d thro’ all the vessels all that grows holds them please; with dew?

               65

Here is one with fragrant flowers, reigns therefore. Which is that do stare the    Canterbury bells; and with    deliberate, that our wisedomes behind whining pure love.

               66

The head, and readers e’er with their nature imitate; and trial. Say it is    hush’d for: with shrill nothing    but a crack the shrinking the liv’d and at her, Calista prov’d.

               67

Now it upon drill’d to make the oak is keen pyramid with Nature seen?    I take exceed through the    notes; and enricht. Within that will which wonted her nearer view.

               68

A park is driven, have flowers of May, as wreckage. From jagged trunk. The evil    of Heaven’s lightning    Ignorant, in sorrow? An angry wolf and he can’t see. True.

               69

Yes, thou wear u is forgotten. The believed brest like thee comfort breeds the    pledge of us, they sails,    ton entanglée. But thus err, in sometime standing wind, and mortals!

               70

They are it. And scoff’d high: which person, what dawn pushing else surrounded. We    drank a health you, my Friends,    in souls, and more welcomed both; so those bodies the Way of yours.

               71

The body borne? No soon, and as thou laments after midnight broken lily    anodyne, and the    alleadg’d Gods eternal, where the subtle Censor scrutinize.

               72

Created Thine on the beards swaines may so nene a grace the enchantment    weight doth crown of the Curse    What do blow. At severall Objects from everycolor.

               73

He some grace, and that has thrown? Are very court me, gang bright that he shadow    we have I not abuse,    young man I do love die and vapours, now list ne mas-kedst late.

               74

Your voice, and wander althoughts; dull twanging bought; and all object Impotence    flowery pride, helpe for    a mort ny mord. Book sonogram a tiny sweet Beauties flown!

               75

Their zeal, an imbecile she woke against my loue?—All they wyll: or thou thinken    agayne they were emong    the wooing sun of spleen. Warned Gem—tactics practicing Sands.

               76

And still; then to set his rapes, only remember’d not for the sea, and leave    ere night wash, would the white    and fox-terriers. This iron age, pair’d flames? The knows us.

               77

Might be in one these? While each breath whose carried: but ev’ry Lady Daphne!    I have gone, and laughter,    the Gods in hope hope, our own. To-morrow, they only peepest?

               78

Ah Christian at her come wintry season gave tempest gives to be at! Admit    nothing congenital    perhaps the memory stung, from out upon a divan.

               79

As thou ask proofs, save the glowing whip leisure of the young, through they chance: Is    this manhood, for she with    his face of all she goes. In this one death. Its cunning less tend.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

The Answer

She knows now.

This is part 13. (13 is the best number, a very lucky number indeed. Definitely not a sign of anything foreboding, nope.)

***CONTENT WARNING: mentions of self-harm and suicidal ideation in the first segment.***

The Tale of the Cursed Raven:

Part 1 I Part 2 I Part 3 I Part 4 I Part 5 I Part 6 I Part 7 I Part 8 I Part 9 I Part 10 I Part 11 I Part 12 

In a castle long since forgotten by time, two mysterious men met.

One was masked and sat upon a large chunk of rubble, taloned hands clutching onto a walking stick for support. The other man was hooded and had his back to the first, fixated on the shards of stained glass littering the floor. That day, the sky had been a brilliant blue—a color that promised endless possibilities.

“You have my thanks for the shelter,” cried the man seated on the remains of the past, “and for the company. I was worried that I would be lost and ever so lonely in the storm.”

But the other man did not respond. He only regarded his guest with a cool glance, black and gold shadowed by his hood.

“Do you live here?” the first man babbled, oblivious. “It’s such a grand estate—though time has made it worse for wear. With renovations and some staff, it could be a jewel of a rest stop for travelers.”

“I’m not keen on taking guests,” his benefactor interrupted.

“But you’ve welcomed me into your home. Does that not make me a guest?”

“I simply thought you pathetic. Shouting and sobbing, all alone in the woods... The wild wolves and the frost bite would have taken far too long to silence you.”

“B-Be that as it may, you’ve still saved my life—and for that, I am grateful. As barbed as your words are, your actions were certainly the selfless sort.”

“Do not be mistaken. This favor does not come without a price.”

“I was afraid you’d say that...” The guest sighed. “But, because I am so very, very kind, I will do the honorable thing and hear you out. How much madol do you require to house me until the blizzard tides over?”

“I require no monetary payment. What I want from you is a favor.”

“Oh, a favor?” He perked up a little at that. “And here I was thinking you’d bleed my purse dry. Tell me, what is this favor that you speak of?”

The hooded man placed a hand on a crumbling column. Ivy had found its way into the cracks, leaves and vines snaking up from the base. Time had not been kind to this place, nor to him.

“... I am a storyteller, you see—and I am currently in the process of seeking an apprentice, someone that can continue my legacy. And at last, I have finally found the perfect candidate. I plan to teach them for a while, but...” He closed his eyes. “You will look after my apprentice when I am no longer of this world.”

“What? Look after your apprentice? That is far bigger of an investment than any upfront payment you could ask for.”

“You must agree,” the hooded man insisted. “When I am gone, they will have nothing in this world but their work. It is no way to live.”

“For them to have nothing left once you are gone... What sort of piteous person have you chosen to assume your duties?”

“It is because they are piteous that I have selected them.” The hooded man’s words were more cold than the raging winter beyond the castle walls. “They are the only one who would be foolish enough to take on my burden.”

“Why do such a thing? Why not change your occupation, start anew?”

“I have no such luxury.” The words were bitter on the hooded man’s lips. “... Allow me to tell you a story, traveler.”

“What? A story, now, of all times?”

“Silence! The story is in session. The hooded man glowered, making the other shrink into silence. “... That is better.

“... Once, this was a magnificent palace. Servants resided in its halls, nobles and common folk visited—and at the center of it all was a young king, so narcissistic and brash. People surrounded him, yet he gave the cold shoulder, instead reveling in his riches and fine foods until the days stole away.

“He was a king only in title, not character, for he could not name a single one of his subjects or servants, could not tell you any of their tales. He had no friends or family to speak of. The one and only person the king loved was himself.

“There came a fateful dark and stormy night. The king was preparing for a grand ball, when a knock came upon the door. He found a feeble old woman in rags, wet and shivering from the rain. She asked the king for shelter, if only for the night... but he refused her.

“The woman tried a second time, but the king snapped, ‘What boon can you provide for me? Labor? Money? Knowledge? Even the most brainless of servants and the most brown-nosing of peasants can offer cheap labor or something of the sort—but you are well past your usefulness, you senile woman.’

“She looked upon him with scorn. ‘You are not a loving or a kind man,’ the old woman said in her ancient voice, ‘but it is not too late for you. You are capable of changing the course of your path.’ She reached into her ragged clothes and revealed a single, pristine flower, its petals as crimson as blood, and held it out to the king. ‘A rose. It is a symbol everlasting love, if you are willing to accept it into your life.’

“But the king refused her a third time. At once, the rose wilted and the old woman shed her skin, revealing the brilliant, shining form of a fairy enchantress. The king staggered back and fell to his knees, in awe of the power that radiated before him. He begged for forgiveness, offered the fae all of his gold and jewels—but his fate had been sealed. She had seen that there was no love or kindness in him, had seen his unwillingness to change.

“The enchantress raised a finger to the young king. ‘I curse you with immortality,’ she boomed. ‘You will exist simply to watch life pass by you. Your body will age, and you will suffer injuries and illness, but you shall never succumb to death. Yours is a story with no ending.

“‘Paper shall be your prison, and the quill and ink, your lock and key. You shall witness time passing, and the stories of those around you evolving, yet your own tale shall remain, forever unchanging.’

“‘You, who rejects the love of others, shall be without it for your eternal existence—for the moment your heart turns and you decree your love, you will turn into a speck of light and vanish. What’s more...’ She brushed her fingers against his lips. ‘You are forbidden from speaking of your curse to others. You will be seen, but not sympathized with. From this moment forth, this shall be your role.’

“With her curse cast, the enchantress left the castle. As for the king, he did not fully grasp the gravity of his situation. No, he only became more daring and cruel, thinking that his newly gained immortality was a blessing rather than a burden. The people that once surrounded him became fearful for their lives, and, one by one, they packed their things and left him. The cursed king was alone in his crumbling castle as time ticked forward without him.”

“... I do not quite understand why you are telling me this long winded story,” the masked man protested, an eyebrow raised. “Surely that... cannot be the true history of this place?”

The hooded man regarded him with a solemn stare. “The story is not yet over. Listen, and you might find the answer you seek illuminated.”

“There’s more?”

“... As I was saying,” he continued snippily, “Time passed. The king slowly became less and less happy—resources abound, yet no one to enjoy it all with him. Seconds slipped away from him, memories becoming hazy and hard to recall. To stave off boredom, the king recorded the days and events that passed on paper... thus bringing the ‘storyteller’s curse’ into fruition, just as the enchantress had said.

“It was then that he realized how truly alone he was, and what little was left for him.

“In his despair, he attempted to take his own life. Alas, no matter what methods he employed, he would always find his wounds mending, his heart beating. To confess his love to another was the only plausible way out—but to do so would be to relinquish his pride and grant the moral victory to the enchantress. He refused to choose that as his ending... and the king was, thus, unkillable in every sense of the term.

“And so, with his papers and his inks, he stowed away from the world, burying himself in his records, his stories, to distract from his new reality. All that he craved for now was the sweet embrace of death... and yet the world was so cruel as to deprive him for that, as punishment for his own cruelty.”

“A king turned into a storyteller...” The masked man’s eyes bulged. “Then you must be...”

“She was tricky,” the storyteller sneered, “but I am just as tricky. Curses have loopholes that can be exploited. That wretched woman forbade me from speaking of ‘my’ condition; she never forbade me from sharing the story of ‘the cursed king’.”

The masked man stood up, his walking stick clicking on the worn marble floor. “All this talk of curses and kings, love and loss... What does it have to do with the apprentice you wish for me to take under my wing?”

“Ah, a real riddle, that one.” The storyteller spread his arms, mouth twisting into a crooked grin. “I have found a way to make my wish come true, a means which transcends the confines of the curse. My role, my apprentice—”

“—you’re tricking them to accept it from you,” the masked man realized. “That is why you will no longer be here, why you are in need of a long-term guardian for them.”

“You are sharper than I took you for, traveler.” His laugh was low—not with wickedness, but with resignation. “... I am tired. So, so tired. I want to forget any of this happened, to be rid of it all. If this is the path I must take to find my conclusion, then so be it.

“... I haven’t the capacity to change whatsoever. I am still every bit as selfish as I was back then.”

“... Your method is underhanded, yes. However, you are being far more merciful than you realize. You could just as easily leave your apprentice without any sort of guardianship. It is no longer of consequence to you whether they are alone or not once you have passed on.” The masked man strode towards the storyteller and stood beside him. “But you don’t wish for them to suffer the same fate as you.”

“This is my revenge on that accursed enchantress--my answer to her curse, defiance. In this way, she will never get the satisfaction of knowing she has ‘won’ over me. I will have the last laugh. It has nothing to do with mercy for whomever inherits this burden from me.”

The masked man chuckled. “In your own way, you are offering them a chance. There is a shred of kindness in you. I am a benevolent being myself, so I know kindness when I see it.

“As one that makes his living in educating the youth... I must agree with your mindset. To avoid a dark future, we must invest in the bright minds of today.” He produced a rectangle of cardstock from the inner liking of his cape. The masked man handed it over with a smile.

“This is...”

“My business card,” Crowley chirped. “Please ensure that you keep it in a safe and secure location for your apprentice to find when the time is right. I will be eagerly awaiting their arrival at our Night Raven College.”

In the dimly lit Crowley household, in the highest room of the tallest tower, something stirs.

Raven sits upon her mattress, crushing a pillow between her chest and her knees, staring guiltily at the wooden floor. Before her, the headmaster paces back and forth, his arms crossed and mouth fixed in a tight-lipped frown. Every step sets a loud clack ringing through the attic, and each time he turns, his cape of woven night changes the direction of its winds.

Raven had never thought of her uncle as a particularly scary man, but there were times when he drew frighteningly close to meeting that descriptor.

Times like now.

Crowley hadn’t been particularly pleased to find her on the doorstep so late—especially not with an eel at her side. The light pouring out from within the residence had made him seem larger than life, his accusatory eyes almost monstrous.

And yet he had taken her without another word, ushering her inside with taloned hands.

Crowley stops his pacing, his back to his niece. He spins to face her, starting to say something right as her own mouth opened.

“Raven—”

“Uncle—”

Both birds stare at one another.

“Please, you first,” Raven insists.

Crowley drums a gold-tipped finger against his arm. With a huff, he massages his pulsating temples with his other hand.

“... I’m very disappointed in you, young lady. Not only did you fail to come home on time—you know that worries your dear old uncle’s heart—but for you to show up with that Jade Leech-kun... What is a crow meant to think?” Crowley shakes his head. “Do you have an explanation for yourself?”

“No, sir.” Raven lowers her gaze to the pillow tightly gripped in her hands. “I...”

I did it because I wanted to. I don’t want to perish in a miserable flash of light. I don’t want to wander in the dark all alone. I...

“... don’t know what came over me. I’m sorry.”

His expression is difficult to discern. “Was I wrong to think that you had started to move on from the past? You were finally enjoying your school life--but you are also repeating the same mistakes as your early days.”

Her head jolted up. “N-No, I...! That’s not it!”

I just want to survive, I want to live--

Crowley’s cold, gold-ribbed fingers suddenly yank on her chin. Sharp, jabbing pain shoots through Raven. She winces, but remains still under his dead, petrifying stare.

“This is...” He digs a finger into her skin and brings it back, revealing a black blotch upon his index.

Raven pales.

His fist closes, grinding the ink against his thumb--smearing the colorant around, dispersing its tacky miasma. “... You know your magical quill is not able to shoulder much blot. What were you attempting to do tonight?”

New guilt ripples through her. “I lost control of myself.”

It is the truth, but lacking details.

“You are aware of the consequences of pushing your body past its limits?” Crowley’s voice is uncharacteristically grave. His eyes, haunting orbs in the darkness. “What can happen to you--how it twists and corrupts and eats away at one’s spirit.”

Overblot.

“I know, Uncle,” she says quietly. “I know.”

“Raven...” Crowley inhales, holds his breath, tasting his words, then releases them. “When I assumed responsibility of you from your mentor, I did so with the hope of seeing you come to a different conclusion. As it stands, I fear you may be going down the same path as he once did. No, perhaps a path even darker and more deadly than his.”

“Defy the story, and the story will snap back, baring its teeth and claws to correct itself.”

To put you back on its path.

Her chest twinges, flooded by memories of the gnarled storyteller. The desperation, the hopelessness in his glassy, hollow eyes. Seeking an end by any means.

A release from the curse.

Were their paths truly one and the same? When he had gone through with the deal, what had he been thinking? What had he said to himself to pass the baton on to her, to one who had refused to continue the chain?

Something within her bristles, insulted by the comparison. 

“I’ve seen Overblot with my own eyes. It is a frightening thing, a fate I would not wish upon my worst enemies. Nor do I wish to see you...” Crowley can’t finish his sentence.

He starts to pace again, muttering to himself. “This won’t do. This won’t do at all. If things continue at this rate... Oh, you’ll be reliving his tale...”

Anger surges anew.

Had the storyteller picked up his entire life and started anew, just for a chance at happiness? Had he been the one to take the hand offered to him? And had he picked up the pieces of what remained, tried to salvage what was left of his hopes and dreams?

No, he hadn’t—it had all been her.

The anger flares, magnifies. A single flame, its heat radiating outward in powerful waves.

“I-I’m...!! I’m not like him!!” Raven shouts, suddenly on her feet. Crowley startles, but she continues, seized by irritation. “My thoughts, my feelings, my decisions... They’re mine...! I’m my own person! Making my own choices!

“Even if they’re bad ones, even if they bring negative consequences... They’re still my own!”

She’s visibly shaking, digging her nails into her palms in an attempt to ground herself. The dark material and the flesh beneath it cave to her fingernails, so painful that it goes totally numb.

“A-As small and as insignificant as this story may be... it’s what I have, and it is no one’s but my own. Not the storyteller’s, not the students of NRC, but mine.”

Hot tears sting her eyes--and every attempt to chase them away by blinking only brews new ones. They trickle down Raven’s face, her chest heaving erratically as she does her best to hold back, to repress her sobs.

But her heart holds resolute, like a stone set in the earth.

“Raven...”

Crowley’s expression is unreadable as he approaches her. Golden eyes and silver moonlight streaking the darkness.

In the next moment, she is enveloped by a dark cloak and feathers. Keys gently clink against mirrors as Crowley awkwardly embraces her. It’s not so much of a hug as it is a half-hug, one arm slung around her and a hand on the back of her head, urging her into his shoulder.

Forcing her to look away from his grim face.

“........................... And here I was, thinking you wouldn’t be a little troublemaker like the rest of my students,” he chuckles sadly. “But no, I see it now. That strong will to fight, to be independent, that pride... It is the NRC way.”

“What...?”

He says no more, but his talons bite at her scalp. In the space between them, unspoken words flutter.

You’ve truly changed—here, at our Night Raven College.

“... It’s late.” He pulls away, resting his hands on her shoulders. “You’re riled up as well. Some sleep would do the both of us some good—stress is terrible for the feathers. We can discuss your punishment in the morning.”

“Uncle...” Raven sinks into him, soaking his suit with her tears. An anxious laugh slips out from between her lips.

You’ve always been terrible at problem-solving.

Bird song fills the morning.

Crowley hums a jaunty tune to himself as he peers into a full-length mirror, adjusting the brim of his top hat and dusting off his vest. His masked face bears a satisfied smile, and his beady eyes glint like unearthed treasure.

“Your brilliance strikes once again, Crowley,” he crows cheerily. “Good work with the pep talk last night! Hohohoh... Surely my words of encouragement have moved her!”

Crowley straightens, happily twirling his cane as he makes his exit and cranes his head up the stairwell that led up to the attic. Some of the steps had a tendency to creak from age--but oddly enough, he hadn’t heard so much as a squeak or a whine the entire day.

Strange, very strange.

Raven was often up before he was. At the crack of dawn, writing or preparing a breakfast for the two of them.

But again, no sounds of descent, no delicious smells or sizzles.

“Raven-kun! Dear Raven-kun!” Crowley calls out, “Are you sleeping in today, my little songbird?”

The response?

Eerie quiet.

“... Raven-kun?”

The headmaster hesitates--but slowly, he climbs the slope. As a fully grown man, Crowley is of a considerable weight, and the most worn of the steps shriek in pan as he comes upon them.

At the top of the stairs, the door to Raven’s room is slightly ajar. It inches open s-l-ooooooowly...

... revealing an empty room.

His eyes shoot wide open.

The window welcomes in a strong spring breeze, the curtains billowing amid it. Pale pink blossoms are scattered upon the floor, joining the papers and the ink stains.

A chill engulfs Crowley’s chest despite the sunshine spilling onto him.

He rushes inside, frantically scanning the tiny room for signs of life. No body in the bed, nor seated in a chair or hiding behind a shelf.

Panic grips his throat.

His mind spins.

The wind picks up, sending papers scattering at Crowley. He winces, bracing against them—the fabric concealing his skin, his suit of armor.

The window—

Crowley scrambles to it, intent on slamming the accursed thing shut. Leaning across the missing raven’s writing desk, he reaches out for the shutters.

A claw grazes one of many bottles of ink left out on the surface. The inkwell wobbles on a glass bottom, then falls onto its side. Black liquid oozes out, coloring the wooden desk.

Crowley curses, reaching down to right it.

That’s when he notices the letter.

Laid out upon the writing desk, weighed down with a bottle of ink in each corner. Almost like it has been patiently waiting for him to notice it all along.

He snatches it up, creasing its edges. One side is painted with ink from the fallen bottle, but it is otherwise intact. Familiar, elegant scrawl greets him as he runs his eyes across the parchment.

Dear Uncle Crowley,

Thank you for the talk last evening. It put a lot of the thoughts I’ve been having into perspective, and I realize what I must do now.

I’ve decided to go away for a while. Please don’t come looking for me. This is something I have to do alone, and by my own hand.

Uncle, do you know why a raven is like a writing desk?

Well, this is my answer.

Yours,

Raven

She shields her eyes against the sunlight and squints into the sky above. A brilliant blue, a color that promised endless possibilities.

Had the storyteller seen the same when he gazed at it?

Before her, a great forest sprawls out. The apple blossoms are out in full force. They are not quite mature enough to turn into heavy fruits, but juvenile enough to showcase their showy petals.

“It’s nice weather today,” Raven murmurs.

My magnum opus awaits... but there’s not much time left for me. I must make haste.

She takes a deep breath, and then takes her first step into the woods.

Not realizing that she is being followed.

[prosaic-bun]

Sal Vindagnyr odds and ends

Pairing: Kaeya x Mc x Albedo

Novelette

Genre: Fluff - Angst (just a little) - Post 1 year timeskip

Author Notes: it's 3:45 in the morning, but I didn't want to risk delaying posting any longer. I avoided a bit writting this and I think it shows a little in the first part, but I really picked up some steam by the end of the chapter. As mentioned Chapter 9 will be a 'beach episode' filler. I'll also add a quick Google Form in its Author Notes, consisting of really straightfoarward questions to gauge the interest for my ideas and future projects.

Trigger Warning: momentarly inapropriate physical touching

Prologue - Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8 (you are here) - Chapter 9 - Chapter 10

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

Chapter 8

5k words Mc had his hands on his knees failing to catch his breath panting heavily while looking at the ground. Kaeya, Albedo and him just cleared all the monsters in the Forsaken rift, right after completing Valley of remembrance. Mc focused on his quick shallow breaths to lengthen them the more his impatient lungs would allow; inhaling through his nostrils and exhaling through pursed lips helped even his breathing. To clear this domain they had the steel of their blades and Albedo’s geo attacks since they were facing off with cryo slimes and cryo abyss mages. Piercing through the thick cryo elemental shield of many slimes while dodging falling ice shards really drained the group’s stamina.

Mc straightened his posture and sneaked a quick glance at his Knights of Favonius companions. In the past, they often minimized their condition or hid their injuries, so the nymph took it upon himself to make sure he healed the superficial scratches and soothe any remaining pain after their expeditions. Albedo was massaging his wrist and shoulder; the nymph did notice the alchemist's elemental skill and burst seemed to have a drawback on his joints. The cavalry captain seemed pretty much alright, some drops of sweat on his temples. His face looked particularly smug while he leaned towards Albedo’s ear to either brag about his physical prowess or either tell a joke to humour the stern alchemist. To give credit where credit is due, Mc would agree they can boast a little since the two swordsmen had perfected their attacks to a point it looks beautiful without rendering the strikes any weaker, both had precision and efficiency.

Mc made his way towards the other two and noticed the proximity of their bodies; he wasn’t naive enough to believe the cold was responsible for their closeness. Kaeya noticed the nymph in his peripheral vision prompting him to praise the Sal Vindagnyr native.

«Who would have guessed our little prodigy would be able to render abyss mages harmless by using their ley line sprout against them; truly, I'm impressed Mc.» Kaeya complimented.

«Neither would I have guessed myself. I just tried it without expectations and I got lucky, it seems like those mages have a fragmented understanding of the power they use.» Mc answered sheepishly.

«You always find new ways to amaze us, Mc.» Albedo commented, pensive eyes gliding on the nymph features as if other wonders would bloom this very instant.

« Come on, let's get moving. We're not frozen in place, after all.» The cryo vision bearer advised, leading them to the altar.

« I stumbled upon an interesting excerpt from a book referencing this domain. If my memory serves me well it goes as follows: It is said in ancient times, people would venture into the valley to seek out the ancient tree on the altar. They would whisper their secrets into the tree hole, relieving themselves of the burden of keeping the secrets to themselves. The Forsaken Rift is filled with long-forgotten secrets. » Albedo detailed. «So it’s safe to assume it’s from this tradition that the domain got its name.» Mc commented. Mc faced the frozen altar as he looked intently at the tree. He investigated the trunk circumference in search of the hole where secrets were presumably whispered. «Hum maybe the tree hollow was meant to be understood figuratively so there isn’t any tangible semi-enclosed cavity in the tree.» The nymph posited.

«Will you try to fuse nymphæ style with the silver tree like in the last domain.» Kaeya asked.

«Sure, I hope we get to learn about more useful things than the fate of a white knight and a maiden.» Mc mumbled under his breath.

Albedo let out a small ‘be careful’ at his companion, who answered by a small nod. Mc placed his hands on the sturdy silver trunk and closed his eyes to focus. The tree seemed to react positively to his touch, inviting him in like an old friend. The nymph dove into the knowledge stored in the Forsaken Rift domain’s ley lines. The domain itself seemed to encourage him to go beyond the teachings and philosophies it usually dispenses.

The tree first shared images of murals in a dim lit room. It was easy for Mc to identify the work of the Princess. Moving on, the tree showed a succession of various mental images of Varuch going up the mountains in search of pieces of advice and Ukko trying to heal the ley lines. Everything went pitch black and whispers filled the nymph's mind:

«...its soul, and Starsilver its bones. But the one who could wield it, the ice-breaking outlander, Imunlau...attempted to heal the Leylines, but the tree had already withered. After burying the princess...without result or reply, Varuch proceeded on to the summit...snow whipped across the skies. The pillar that fell from the heavens was riven in three...far from snow and strife, and came upon this verdant paradise. A monument was laid down in this place, and it was named Sal Vind...dreamed of the black dragon that blotted down the sun, and knew it to be an omen of doom. That same month, the outlander...guided to where the pale white tree stood. That month, the underground waterway...ended. There is no more need for records. Yet I regret nothing more than having been unable to watch her finish the fresco within that great hall...»

Mental images of Imunlaukr replaced the previous darkness; they showed the outlander returning to the mountain only to find that the kingdom’s people were already dead. Swirling red colours assailed Mc’s mind and new whispers took on the duty to tell another story: «He had a very, very long dream...

He dreamed that he and everyone else had gone on a long, long journey, Into a land where green grass grew, and where soulful songs were sung. He dreamed that he sang along with the gentle people of this land, And danced in the skies with a dragon as beauteous as a jewel.

When he opened his eyes, he was in the sky above a mountain swept by roaring snowstorms. The green, tranquil land had already been painted crimson by fire and blood, And the song of that sky-blue bard's lyre was almost drowned in the howling tumult.

And that bejeweled, lovely dragon, like a tender lover, Had now pierced his neck through with its sharp fangs.

"Farewell, Mother! My journey has ended."

"I shall sleep beneath this white, shining silver... and perhaps this, too, is good."

"Farewell, O lovely bard! And farewell, O lovely dragon!"

"Would that we had met in a different time and place,"

"To meet, to song and dance together!" So he thought most sincerely as he lay dying.

"Now then, this great blessing that pulses through my veins,"

"And lovely sight of the dark universe that gave me birth..."

"They are now yours to inherit."»

Mc tried to slow the flux of information the tree was pouring into his mind. Realising he had no control over it, the nymph felt the engorging knowledge translate into pressure into his skull and sinuses mimicking the fall of a nail into the rocky peak of a mountain. As he was about to sever the connection, the tumult evanesced into a single general feeling - a beacon from a higher altitude combined with the need to visit the domain at the apex of Dragonspine. Images of the crater caused by the Skyfrost Nail gave him a foretaste of what was waiting for him. While the last mental image was fading away, Mc discerned an ominous aura pooling around the entry doors of the top of the mountain domain.

The nymph reopened his eyes, blinking to moisten them and to reintroduce himself with his surroundings. Turning around he saw Kaeya seated at the base of the three, eyes closed and Albedo standing a few steps away seemingly examining the ceiling.

«For how long did I merge with the tree?» Mc asked, straightening himself up.

Kaeya inhaled sharply as if woken up by the voice of the nymph ~~~ although he was only briefly resting his eyes. «Hum I’d say about 20 minutes tops.» Kaeya answered with a smile and dozy eyes. «Did you learn anything noteworthy?»

«Hum, it's just a lot. Powerful and complex components resulted in the current situation; sheer cold is an example of that. I can tell the ley lines remember many endeavours that took place on these snowy slopes.» Mc pensively answered, the last landscape he witnessed imposing itself in his mind. «When I’ve got some time I’ll meditate on what was shared with me. For now my brain is too tired.»

«You are right, we should leave for now. It was quite a journey and we are all tired, even our little alchemist is silent.» Kaeya noted.

Mc turned around to look at a motionless Albedo still staring at the ceiling. The nymph closed the distance and gently taped on the Alchemist’s shoulder. Without earning any reaction from the man, Mc tried again but this time saying his name and shaking his shoulder with a little bit more emphasis.

The nymph’s second attempt seemed to snap Albedo out of his dissonant state, making him stumble forward. Light headed, Albedo’s movements were sluggish making it impossible for him to catch himself up, resulting in him skipping the flight of stairs that connects the altar with the platform. The alchemist was properly catapulted onto the cold domain floor.

Mc lurched forward with kaeya hot on his heels. The nymph kneeled down and helped Albedo to turn on his back, one hand under his nape to keep the alchemist's head off the floor in the process. Albedo’s eyelids fluttered and he brought his hand to cover his forehead. Mc started kneading the tendons at the base of the alchemist skull bringing energy to his fingertip to infuse the connective tissue with healing.

Albedo lowered his hand from his face only for Kaeya to trap it gently in his hands, squeezing it lightly to show his support. «What happened?» Albedo grunted.

«It looked like you were in some kind of trance, you really surprised us there. If you want to go to the stars just tell us and we’ll make it happen.» Even though Kaeya talked with his usual wit, his livid expression showed how much he worried over Albedo collapsing without any warning. Albedo chuckled and apologized. «Don’t you apologize, it wasn’t your fault. Now let me take a look at your lips, it seems like you bite it when you fell» Mc scolded. The nymph then concentrated energy in his free hand and with a feathery touch healed the alchemist’s lips. Albedo’s cheeks got dusted with pink, only for him to avert his eyes and try to sit himself more properly.

«Thank you for that, I feel much better.» Albedo stammered. «You don’t have any idea what triggered your trance?» Mc inquired while swatting Albedo’s hand away to finish closing up superficial scratches interspersed along his chin and jaw. «I don’t remember very well what happened after Kaeya sat next to the tree to wait.» «Could it be that you were sensing something threatening over us?» Kaeya asked. «I really don’t know, everything felt like a dream. That was quite a peculiar experience.» Albedo answered. A pause followed, the trio remained quiet and they took in what just happened. «So I presume we will not grace the Angel’s Share of our presence tonight after all. We’ll make sure you get some rest, Albedo.» Kaeya indicated. «On the contrary, I believe dandelion wine and good company would be perfect to put my mind at ease.» Albedo admitted.

«Only months ago, I would have never thought such words would come out of the mouth of the esteemed Chief Alchemist of the Knights of Favonius.» Kaeya pointed out. «It seems the roguish behaviours of none other than the Cavalry captain of the Knights of Favonius have rubbed off on me. That is quite an appalling outcome.»

«Don’t paint me out to be a wretched hooligan. After all, Angel’s Share is a wonderful place to glean information.»

«Ah yes i can picture it nicely, the Frostwind Swordsman parading in such an establishment like a puff up peacock.»

The two continued to bicker back and forth on the way back. Although Mc was still worried, their lively mood helped him loosen up and rule off the strange occurrence as a harmless one time deal.

****

Kaeya walked back from the bar with appetizers, a whole bottle of dandelion wine and a glass of cider for his treasured nymph. The knight seemed in his element, dodging drunkards that started drinking well before the evening even started. Kaeya slalomed in between the tables eager to reach his destination; only an informed eye would notice the added pep in his walk. The Cavalry Captain seated himself next to Albedo and in diagonal with the nymph. He proceeded to give Mc his drink and opened the bottle of wine to pour it into two glasses.

The trio reveled in the intimacy of the crowded room. The general chatter made them continuously lean forward to better converse bringing another layer of proximity between the three. If Mc noticed Kaeya being fonder of physical touches than usual, he blamed it on the general atmosphere of the bar. Maybe it was a way to lessen the distance created by the sturdy wooden table. If the nymph still held worries about the alchemist's condition, it didn’t show; especially since he was snickering at Kaeya’s current antics. The levity of his circumscribed audience only fueled his desire to make them laugh even more.

When evening turned into night, Kaeya had already replenished everybody’s cups many times and also ordered small servings of meals to share amongst themselves. This time Kaeya had left the table to relieve himself and probably freshen up.

«You know, with all that I didn’t get to give you my thanks for taking care of me after I met with the floor.» Albedo acknowledged. Mc was at a loss for words. Albedo was facing him fully, leaning forward to make sure his words reached the nymph’s ears. His eyelids seemed heavy with alcohol or something else maybe, but his eyes were glued onto the Sal Vindagnyr native. Even in the dim light, Mc was able to discern a faint blush on the cheeks of the Kreideprinz. As the nymph remained motionless, Albedo slowly reached for the hand of his interlocutor that was cluttering the table amidst disparate empty mugs and glasses. Meticulously, the alchemist drew in the nymph’s hand until his lips met with the other’s knuckles. He maintained a steady eye contact, an uncomplicated ‘thank you’ escaped his alluring lips.

«Hum…right, I’m glad I could be of assistance. Usually I rely so much on you two.» Mc stammered.

«Shush, you don’t give yourself enough credit.» Albedo corrected as he returned Mc’s hand to the table without letting go however.

Kaeya returned to the table, excusing himself for having left for such a long time. Kaeya briefly stole a glance at his companions' joined hands and then tried to hide his impending smirk by painting a quizzical smile on his face.

«Ahem, so if I sum it up, you two are going on an investigation regarding Hilichurl activity on Thursday and Friday. So that let us Saturday to prepare and Sunday to go on our Dragonspine summit investigation.» Mc commented trying to maintain his composure while harboring a dimple smile.

«Precisely, but we might be back before Friday afternoon. Make sure you are free…» Kaeya began only to be interrupted by a large shadow more or less collapsing on Mc. Both knights jumped to their feets, almost knocking back the table. «Oups, sorry sorry, I didn’t see ya there.» Let out a gruff voice behind the nymph. «Hey it’s you!» The newcomer continued. «I’m Cyrus the Branch Master of the Adventurers' Guild in Mondstadt.» He exclaimed while harshly patting down Mc’s shoulder. «Jack! Jack com’ere! Come see the pretty little thing that Dragonspine ditched out a few months ago!»

«Little?» Mc deadpanned at the adjective that was never really used to describe him. «Well maybe compared to him…» He mumbled under his breath.

«Pretty?» Sputtered both Kaeya and Albedo at the same time, exchanging an insightful look. Before the two knights had the time to do anything, Cyrus brought back his attention to Mc and brazenly let himself crash on the wooden bench next to him. He passed a muscular arm around the nymph's shoulders and drew him in. «You know you ‘er’ look even more interesting up close. Those green shapes on the skin of yours makes you look more… exotic, yes that… exotic. Maybe you could be part of my next Dragonspine expedition since you know the place like you would ‘er’ your hometown.» Mc pleaded with his eye at the two knights to help him out. «Is that so Master Cyrus? Nobody ever described me as exotic before. That’s a first.» Mc replied, trying to get out of the adventurer’s muscular hold. Sadly Cyrus seemed to think the nymph said the funniest thing in the world and uproared in laughter pulling in Mc even more, pressing the subject of his attraction into his sturdy chest.

On the other side of the table Kaeya and Albedo - who up until now displayed a befuddled expression, had the exact same reaction as if Lisa used her electro vision on them.

Kaeya made his way on the other side of Cyrus trying to get his attention. «Master Cyrus, fancy seeing you here! Oh look at that mug, you are all out of alcohol you should ask Jack to refill it for you.» Kaeya suggested. «You’re right my boy! Jack! Jack! More adventure and wine!» Screaming in an ambiguous direction, the branch master turned on his seat, freeing the nymph.

During that time, Albedo stealthily helped Mc detangle himself from the man and signaled Kaeya they were ready to bail. They all made it out briefly after, the cool air of the night contrasting with the tavern's more heavy atmosphere.

«Whew, that guy shouldn’t be drinking like that!» Mc stated while adjusting his jacket on his shoulder as he walked in the general direction of the Knight of Favonius Headquarters.

«He was truly out of line, are you ok Mc?» Albedo asked, speeding up his pace to follow him. «Oh no worries, he actually reminded me of how Varuch - the King-Priest, used to act with me. Sure I would prefer he would be more respectful of my personal space bubble, but they mean no harm.» Mc commented. «And in the end my knights in shining armor easily devised a plan to get me out of there.» With that Mc harbored a facetious smile. «I believe in our case we already established that this kind of physical contact was ok.» Mc swinged both of his arms around the two knights shoulder almost making them fall onward. They walked in what Mc thought was comfortable silence, but a certain Knight was still mulling over the last events that took place at Angel’s Share. The trio was midway through the last flight of stairs before reaching their destination when Kaeya abruptly halted his progression.

«Are you ok Kaeya? Are you going to throw up?» Albedo asked worriedly.

«Only thing that would make me throw up right now, is how Cyrus acted like a buffoon.» Kaeya stated, bubbles of anger making their way into his throat making his speech quaver. «The damn guy ruined everything, treating you like some exotic boy toy.» «Hey hey, no it did not ruin anything. It was only 2 minutes out of many hours during which we enjoyed ourselves.» Mc reassured. «Mc you’re too considerate, he didn’t have the right to grab you like that.» Kaeya argued with a gloomy expression.

«Kaeya, if it makes you feel better I can get Cyrus to apologize to Mc once he isn’t drunk tomorrow. Would you like that?» Albedo interjected.

«Maybe. But first I've got something to say or rather confess to both of you. I didn’t visualize this moment like that, but it doesn’t matter, I'm too upset, I just need to do it especially after what happened.» Kaeya blurted out, his erratic thoughts not aligning properly into coherent sentences. «Albedo, Mc, I need to tell you something of capital importance!» Kaeya straightened up and raised his chin to garner some formality. «The thing is… The thing is that I-» In a flurry of movement, Kaeya found himself tackled against the stone wall, one hand protecting the back of his head from the impact, the other covering his mouth. As a bystander, even Albedo was surprised at the swiftness with which Mc dealt with the Frostwind Swordsman.

«I’m sorry Kaeya, but I can’t let you do that. You see I’m under the impression, maybe unjustifiably so, that this is a case of right words, wrong time.» Mc stated while keeping his stare on Kaeya wide eyes. «Besides, I’m not going to let you blame the alcohol for any confession.» The Cavalry Captain seemed to think thoroughly about what Mc just said. After some time, his eyes crinkled at the corner and he hummed as a way to show his agreement. «Are you sure I can let you open your big mouth?» Mc taunted with a coy smile. «Ah stop!» Kaeya retaliated by licking the nymph’s palm that was covering his mouth, prompting the nymph to release him and step back. A few stairs higher, Albedo was witnessing their shenanigans with amusement evident in his adoring eyes.

«Fair enough Mc, you made a good case and I shall obliged.» Kaeya solemnly announced while bowing a little like he was accepting defeat.

«Great, that’s what I like to hear.» Mc approved.

«But I have one condition.» Kaeya let his sentence float in the crisp night air, passing by Mc then Albedo to climb up the last remaining stairs. He turned around to face the two people that made his days brighter and put his hands on his hips to add a more dramatic effect. «These nights I have trouble finding sleep. It seems that my blankets are not enough to keep me warm at night. I’ve also warned the headquarter maintenance staff that the Quartermaster bedroom is not sufficiently insulated.» Kaeya paused to raise the suspense. «Would you do me the honours of warming up my bed tonight?» «If I remember correctly, the perks of being the quartermaster of the Knights of Favonius means you have a king sized bed?» Mc stated more than inquired.

«Yes, it also happens to be a canopy bed. I guess the owner of the room believes it adds some flair.» Albedo corroborated as he moved up the stairs. «Wait until you try it before passing judgements. It is elegant, but also playful and makes the bed more intimate. Oh and less light filters through.» Kaeya claimed.

****

Mc woke up in a sea of soft bed linen and blankets. He would have to agree, the room needed better insulation. The nymph tensed his muscles and stretched before bundling up once more into the covers. Few minutes passed before he heard the door swing open as complicit chuckles filled the room.

«Good morning sleepy head.» Kaeya exclaimed as he came into view with trays filled with food. Mc seated himself in bed to greet them, only to earn himself a kiss on the head from Kaeya and a little peck on the cheek ~ awfully close to the corner of his mouth ~ from Albedo.

The nymph blinked owlishly at the two men making them burst into laughter, content of the reaction they got rewarded with. Mc smiled: «Oh I see what’s up, that’s how it is now, uh.» «You should dig in while it’s hot.» Albedo suggested, vaguely gesturing at the numerous meals.» The trays contained servings of mint jelly, appetizing Adventurer's Breakfast Sandwiches, pancakes with yellow berries and sliced sunsettia neatly gathered in some bowls.

«Oh and I also managed to get these.» Kaeya exclaimed, bringing into view a plate of half a dozen croissants. «It’s not everyday we can have a batch of these Fontaine specialties here at Good Hunter.»

They all dug in, making themselves a plate from the many options appearing in front of them. After Mc tasted the buttery, flaky pastry Kaeya had to reassure the nymph that if he earned a good reputation with Sara, he could have inside scoops of when batches of croissants would be baked. Soon after the three finished their breakfast in bed, Mc brought them to the roof of the headquarters under the guise of having something to show to them. On the rooftop, the two knights were introduced to a modest garden composed of wooden boxes containing a variety of plants, namely: Mint, Valberries, Cecillias, Daisies and a plant unknown to the two knights.

«I don’t believe I recognize this particular plant, Mc.» Albedo commented while inspecting the leaves and the trumpet-shaped flowers of a climbing plant that was sprawling to the close-by battlements of the headquarters.

«To give a little context, these vines are morning-glories. They are resilient plants that like direct exposition from the sun. Their distinctive characteristic is that they will only bloom in the morning and only for a day. I wasn’t sure if any flowers would have bloomed today since it’s only the beginning of their flowering, but a total of about 20 flowers is pretty lucky.»

«Wait, these flowers are gonna wither away at the end of the day?.» Kaeya exclaimed. «They might even be gone by the afternoon. That’s transience for you.» Mc added with an affectionate smile. «Don’t worry some of the buds you see hanging from the peduncles will bloom tomorrow and overmorrow. And even more will grow.»

«They are truly beautiful Mc, you are very good with plants.» Albedo complimented as he brushed the outline of a flower.

«The most perfect gardener in all of Teyvat.» Kaeya added with a wink.

«It was a requirement for the nymphæ application.» Mc laughed.

«And what is supposed to be in this empty box?» Kaeya asked inquisitively. «Well it is supposed to contain none other than roses, but the seeds I got from a travelling merchant sadly left me with barren soil. That’s unfortunate since roses shrubs would have emulated a more romantic atmosphere don’t you think?» Mc baited. «Hum… romance. The word seems to roll quite nicely off my tongue, but it also gives me the feeling I’m forgetting something.» Albedo caught on.

Both the nymph and the alchemist stared at Kaeya, the first one with half lidded eyes and the second with a cocked eyebrow. The Cavalry Captain could feel the tip of his ears burn, knowing they probably turned incarnat at this point. The knight swallowed and cleared his throat before beginning: «You both are already here by my side, what more could I ask for? I feel guilty even thinking about it. Mc thank you for stopping me yesterday. Right words, wrong time right?» As much as Mc liked to put the knight on the spot a few seconds ago, he was now completely attentive to Kaeya, his eyes glinting from anticipation. If Albedo was impassive on the outside, there was a torrent of emotions inside of him. «I value you both so much. Spending time with you might just be the most fun I've had in my whole life. I hope it stays that way. I never feel lonely thanks to you. At this point the stage of my avowal is all set, I can’t just continue enumerating everything I like about you or the morning-glories will be no more when I finish.» Kaeya took one deep breath and went for it. «Albedo, Mc, would you indulge an imperfect sinner like me and grant me the bliss of forming a relationship? As in us being partners. Well not business partners. Like lovers. Boyfriends.»

The efflorescence of Mc’s smile rivaled the blooming plants around him, while Albedo was beaming, almost radiating his inner elation. Kaeya extended his hands in their respective direction feeling like his ribcage would fail to keep in the butterflies that whirled in his stomach. Albedo and Mc briefly looked at each other as a way to confirm what they already knew - everybody was on the same page. They took Kaeya’s hand and formed a tight cluster of limbs embracing each other. After the first rush of emotions dissipated, the muffled voice of Kaeya reverberated: «So is that a yes?» Earning chuckles and the explicit formal approval from his boyfriends.

«Does that mean we need to get used to having you in between us when we cuddle like last night?» Mc asked tongue in cheek. Kaeya didn’t answer, face flushed and glancing away not too sure how to counter. «Don’t be bashful about what you like, Kaeya.» Albedo advised bringing back his attention. «While we are on the subject of our preferences, I’d like to mention I really enjoyed the way you played with my hair before I fell asleep against you.» Mc wasn’t really able to tell if Albedo’s blunt yet candid declaration alleviated Kaeya’s blush or worsened it. The nymph smiled to himself thinking about how one of his boyfriends didn’t see the appeal of relationships until somewhat recently and is currently able to be so sincerely forthright. His other boyfriend, if at first appearing provocatively flirty, becomes the most disarmingly unassuming when things get serious. What’s the saying? In like a lion, out like a lamb? Cc. @creatorofstars

[flowerwept]

@sunhalf said: ❛ this wasn’t how it was supposed to go. ❜ // from hana kingdomhearts for whichever one ur heart desires fuck it she can world travel

Fandaniel has problems and he’ll be the first one to admit it. The sundering had shattered more than just his soul / but each Rejoining more painful than the last, those 8 other Fandaniels within his heart of hearts clamoring to be released. But Hana, somehow, makes that fate feel kind. Hana, who had once been Azem ( is now only a mere part of Azem -- ). Destined for that brilliant blue sky and all things an adventurer could wish for. But Azem existed no more, soul scattered to the winds.

It was unlucky to be shard number thirteen, that world even the Ascians had abandoned in their quest to restore a perfect past. Poor Hana.

Fandaniel recognizes her own recognizing when she looks upon him and sees Hermes, sees Amon, sees every life he has lived before this one / and Hermes, in turn, sees his old friend Azem. But Fandaniel is not Hermes. Hana is not Azem. “This wasn’t how it was supposed to go,”  she says, and the void dribbles off of her form like sludge, their constitution too used to the darkness of the thirteenth to be of much use in the Source.

The jester smiles and shakes his head: at his heart he might be a scientist and detest unaccounted for variables, especially when his experiment involved ending the world, but he is also a lover of theater, and at the end of the day Azem’s shard is just a footnote in the play he was weaving.  “I should have known that one of Azem’s shards would have survived that hell. They were always so tenacious!”

He drums fingers against his chin, as if debating what to do with the newcomer. Their memories seem wavering, and even as soon as he ponders this thought, that flash of recognition vanishes from their eyes. Back to a shard. Azem gone. Just another voidsent. Just another monster. Hermes should be so sad.  “And already you’ve forgotten why you are here. That’s wonderful! All I have wanted is to forget.”  Forget and die and choke out the stream of the aetherial sea and to stop recalling that painful spot in his heart that cried out at the sight of birds flying flying going gone --

“It seems your soul has saved you from the fate of the 13th. But I doubt it will save you a second time when I take this world with me. You shouldn’t have come here, old friend. I already have to deal with one Azem. Another will be a pain, I think.”

[dustedmagazine]

Dust, Volume 7, Number 8

Big Thief

Our August collection of short reviews contains more big names than usual with singles from Big Thief and Dry Cleaning, a digital compilation from Thou, live music from Obits and a side project from members of the Bats and the Clean. Never fear, there are obscurities as well, including an improv guitar player even Bill Meyer had hardly heard of, a Norwegian emo artist in love with Texas and a death metal outfit verging into psychedelia. Our writers, this time including Tim Clarke, Bill Meyer, Jennifer Kelly, Ian Mathers, Chris Liberato and Jonathan Shaw, like what they like, big or small, hyped or unknown. We hope you’ll like some of it, too.   

Marc Barreca — The Sleeper Awakes (Scissor Tail)

The Sleeper Wakes by Marc Barreca

Odd connections abound here. One might not expect the usually acoustic-oriented Scissor Tail Recordings to make a vinyl reissue of an electronic ambient music cassette from 1986, any more than one would expect its maker to currently earn his crust as a bankruptcy judge. So, let’s just shed those expectations and get to listening. Unlike so many lower profile electronic recordings from the 1980s, which seemed targeted for a space next to the cash register of a new age bookstore, this album offers a profusion of mysteries that compound the closer you listen to them. It’s not at all obvious what sounds Barreca fed into his Akai sampler. Japanese folk music? Church chimes? A log drum jam? Tugboat engines? One hears hints of such sounds, but they’ve been warped and dredged in a thin coat of murk, so that the predominant experience is one of feeling like you’re dreaming, even if your eyes are wide open.

Bill Meyer

Big Thief — “Little Things” / “Sparrow” (4AD)

Little Things/Sparrow by Big Thief

Who knows how much more music Big Thief might have released in the last 18 months if the pandemic hadn’t tripped them up? Given the creative momentum generated by 2019’s UFOF and Two Hands, it’s fair to assume the band have plenty of music waiting in the wings. “Little Things” and “Sparrow” arrive with no sign of a new album on the horizon, so are probably being released to promote Big Thief’s upcoming US and European tour. Both songs clock in at around five minutes and handle musical repetition in different satisfying ways. Reminiscent of Fleetwood Mac’s “Everything,” but hyped up on caffeine, “Little Things” feels like an exciting new direction for the band. It cycles through its whirlpooling, modulated acoustic guitar over and over, the frantic little sequence of chords never changing; the interest comes from the ways in which the rest of the instruments bob and weave in the ever-shifting, psychedelic mix. “Sparrow” is a more traditional Big Thief song, sparse and sad. Its melancholic sway is enlivened by some beautiful wavering vocal harmonies as Adrianne Lenker paints a picture of a Garden of Eden populated by sparrows, owls and eagles, culminating in Adam blaming Eve for humankind’s fall from grace.

Tim Clarke

Simão Costa — Beat Without Byte: (Un)Learning Machine (Cipsela)

Beat With Out Byte by Simão Costa

Piano preparation often makes use of modest resources — bolts and combs, strings or maybe just a raincoat tossed into the instrument’s innards. By contrast, Simão Costa’s set-up looks like took all of the entries in a robotics assembly competition and set them to work agitating a snarl of cables that met the pirated telecommunication requirements for an especially crowded favela. But whether it’s twitching motors or Costa’s own hands doing the work, the sounds that come out of his sound remarkably rich and cohesive. He stirs drifting hums, metallic sonorities, and stomping rhythms into a bracingly immediate sonic onslaught.

Bill Meyer

Cots — Disturbing Body (Boiled)

Disturbing Body by Cots

Disturbing Body is the low-key debut album by Montreal-based musician Steph Yates, who enlisted Sandro Perri to produce. Where the songs are pared back to mostly just vocals and peppy major-seventh chords on nylon-string guitar — such as “Bitter Part of the Fruit” and “Midnight at the Station” — comparisons with bossa-nova classics such as “The Girl From Ipanema” inevitably arise. Where the tempo is slower, the chord voicings are less sun-dappled, and Perri’s arrangements call upon a wider palette of instrumental colors, the songs venture into more interesting terrain, calling to mind a less haunted Broadcast. There’s an eerie sway to the opening title track, backed by rich piano chords and clattering cymbal textures. Fender Rhodes and the light clack of a rhythm track give “Inertia of a Dream” an uneasy momentum. And forlorn trumpet, percussion and piano situate “Last Sip” at closing time in a forgotten jazz club. There’s something evasive yet subtly intoxicating at work here, the album’s ten songs breezing past in half an hour, leaving plenty of unanswered questions in their wake.

Tim Clarke

Dry Cleaning — “Bug Eggs” / “Tony Speaks!” (4AD)

Bug Eggs/Tony Speaks! by Dry Cleaning

A few months on from the release of their excellent debut album, New Long Leg, Dry Cleaning have put out two more songs from the same sessions, which are featured as bonus tracks on the Japanese edition. For a band whose unique appeal is mostly attributed to Florence Shaw’s surreal lyrics and deadpan delivery, it’s heartening to hear further evidence that it’s the complete cocktail of musical ingredients — Shaw plus Tom Dowse’s inventive guitar, Lewis Maynard’s satisfyingly thick bass, and Nick Buxton’s driving drums — that alchemizes into their winning sound. The verse guitar chords of “Bug Eggs” are naggingly similar to New Long Leg’s “More Big Birds,” while the instrumental chorus has a yearning feel akin to album highlight “Her Hippo.” Maynard’s bass tone on “Tony Speaks!” is absolutely filthy, swallowing up most of the mix until Dowse’s guitar bares its teeth in a swarm of squalling wah-wah, while Shaw’s lyrics muse upon the decline of heavy industry, the environment, and crisps.

Tim Clarke

Flight Mode — TX, ’98 (Sound As Language)

TX, '98 by Flight Mode

In 1998, well before he started Little Hands of Asphalt, Sjur Lyseid spent a year in Texas at the height of the emo wave, skateboarding and going to house shows and listening to the Get Up Kids. TX, ’98 is the Norwegian’s tribute to that coming of age experience, the giddy euphorias of mid-teenage freedom filtered through bittersweet subsequent experience. “Sixteen” is the banger, all crunchy, twitchy exhilarating guitars and vulnerable pop tunefulness, its clangor breaking for wistful reminiscence, but “Fossil Fuel” waxes lyrical, its guitar riffs splintering into radiant shards, its lyrics capturing those youthful years when anything seems possible and also, somehow, the later recognition that perhaps it isn’t. It’s an interesting tension between the now-is-everything hedonism of adolescence and the rueful remembering of adulthood, encapsulate in a chorus that goes, “Well wait and see if there’s no more history/and just defend the present tense.”

Jennifer Kelly

Drew Gardner— S-T (Eiderdown Records)

S/T by Drew Gardner

Drew Gardner has been popping up all over lately, on Elkhorn’s snowed in acoustic jam Storm Sessions and the electrified follow-up Sun Cycle and as one of Jeffrey Alexander’s Heavy Lidders. Here, it’s just him and his guitar plus a like-minded rhythm section (that’s Ryan Jewell on drums and Garcia Peoples’ Andy Cush on bass), spinning off dreamy, folk-into-interstellar-journeys like “Calyx” and “Kelp Highway.” Gardner puts some muscle into some of his grooves, running close to Chris Forsyth’s wide-angle electric boogie in “Bird Food.” “The Road to Eastern Garden,” though, is pure limpid transcendence, Buddhist monastery bells jangling as Gardner’s warm, inquiring melodic line intersects with rubbery bends on bass. Give this one a little time to sit, but don’t miss it.

Jennifer Kelly

Hearth — Melt (Clean Feed)

Melt by Hearth

This pan-European quartet’s name suggests domesticity, but the fact that none of its members lives in the country of their birth probably says more about the breadth of their music. The closest geographic point of reference for the sounds that pianist Kaja Draksler, trumpeter Susana Santos Silva, and saxophonists Ada Rave and Mette Rasmussen’s make together would be Chicago’s south side. Their dynamic blend of angular structures, extended instrumental techniques, and obscurely theatrical enactments brings to mind the Art Ensemble of Chicago, even though the sounds on this concert-length recording rarely echo the AEC’s. But it is similarly charged with mystery and collective identity.

Bill Meyer

Klaus Lang / Konus Quartett — Drei Allmenden (Cubus)

Drei Allmenden (translation: Three Commons) treats the act of commission as an opportunity to create common cause. For composer and keyboardist Klaus Lang, this is a chance to push back against a long trend of separation and stratification, with musicians bound to realize the composer’s whim, no matter the cost. Invoking works from the 16th century, he penned something simple, flexible and open to embellishment. Then he pitched in with Konus Quartett, a Swiss saxophone ensemble, to get the job done. The three-part piece, which lasts 43 sublime minutes, amply rewards the submersion of ego. Lang’s slowly morphing harmonium drones and Konus’ long reed tones sound like one instrument, enriched by tendrils of sound that rise up and then sink back into the music’s body.

Bill Meyer

Lynch, Moore, Riley — Secant / Tangent (dx/dy)

Secant | Tangent by Sue Lynch, N.O. Moore, Crystabel Riley

Electric guitarist N.O. Moore is barely known in these parts. I’ve only heard him on one album with Eddie Prévost a couple years back, and the other two musicians, not at all. But on the strength of this robust performance, which was recorded at London’s Icklectick venue, it would be a loss to keep it that way. They combine acoustic sounds with electronics, courtesy of guitar effects and amplification, in an exceedingly natural fashion. Each musician also gets into the other’s business in ways that correspond to the one spicy suggestion made by one cook that elevates another’s dish to the next level. Susan Lynch’s clarinet and flute compliment Moore’s radiophonic/feedback sounds like two flashes of lightning illuminating the same dark cloud, and her vigorously pecking saxophone attack mixes with Crystabel’s cascading beats like idiosyncratically tuned drums. This is one of the first albums to be released on Moore’s dx/dy label; keep your eye out for more.

Bill Meyer

Maco Sica / Hamid Drake Tatsu Aoki & Thymme Jones—Ourania (Feeding Tube)

OURANIA by Mako Sica / Hamid Drake featuring Tatsu Aoki & Thymme Jones

Ourania is named for the muse associated with astronomy in Greek mythology, and the album has an aim for the stars quality. In 2020, Chicago’s Mako Sica lost not only the chance to play concerts, but one third of its number. Core members Brent Fuscaldo (electric bass, voice, harmonica, percussion) and Przemyslaw Krys Drazek (electric trumpet, electric guitar, mandolin) could have just hunkered down with their respective TV sets. Instead, they booked themselves three other musicians who make rising above circumstances a core practice. The duo convened at Electrical Audio with Hamid Drake (drums, percussion, Tatsu Aoki (upright bass, shamisen), and Thymme Jones (piano, organ, balloon, trumpet, voice, recorder, percussion), rolled tape for a couple hours, and walked out with this album. The 85 minute-long recording (edited to about half that length on vinyl, but the LP comes with a download card) exudes a vibe of calm, even beatitude, with twin trumpets and Fuscaldo’s echo-laden, nearly word-free vocals weaving though a sequence of patient grooves like migrational birds on the glide.

Bill Meyer

Mar Caribe — Hymn of the Mar Caribe (Mar Caribe)

Hymn of the Mar Caribe b/w Rondo for Unemployment by mar caribe

Some musicians burn to make something new; others generate attention-getting sounds designed to maximize the potential of their other earning activities; and others, well, they just want you to sway along with their version of the good sounds. Mar Caribe falls into that last category. This Chicago-based instrumental ensemble has spent most of the last decade maintaining a robust performance schedule, and it would seem that recording is pretty much an afterthought; a photo of the test pressing for this 7” was posted in May 2019, but the release show didn’t happen until August 2021. Sure, COVID can be blamed for part of the delay, but one suspects that mostly, these guys just want to play, and they didn’t bother to stuff the singles in the sleeves until they knew when they’d next be leaning over a merch table. The titular suspends anthemic brass and pedal steel over a swinging double bass cadence, and if there was a moment during the night when the band invited the audience to pledge allegiance to their favorite drink, this is what they’d be playing while they asked. Guitars lead on the flip side, whose busy twists and turns belie the implied laziness of the title, “Rondo For Unemployment.”

Bill Meyer

Mint Julep — In a Deep and Dreamless Sleep (Western Vinyl)

In A Deep And Dreamless Sleep by Mint Julep

These songs traverse a hazy, dreamlike space, diffusing dance beats, dream-y vocals and synth pulses into inchoate sensation that nonetheless retains enough rhythmic propulsion to keep your heart rate up. “A Rising Sun” filters jangly guitar and bass through a sizzle of static, letting tambourine thump gently somewhere off camera, as voices soothe and reassure. “Mirage” pounds a four-on-the-floor, but quietly, angelically, like a disco visited through astral projection or maybe a really rave-y iteration of heaven. There’s an ominous undercurrent to “Longshore Drift,” in its growly, sub-bass-y hum, but glittering bits of synth sprinkle over like fairy dust. This is indefinitely gorgeous stuff, ethereal but surprisingly energizing. Dance or drift, take your pick.

Jennifer Kelly

Monocot — Directions We Know (Feeding Tube)

Direction We Know by Monocot

Directions We Know is an LP of free-form freak-outs generated by an instrumental duo that includes one musician who you might expect to perpetuate such a ruckus, and one that you might not. The more likely character is drummer Jayson Gerycz, who may be known for keeping time with the Cloud Nothings, but has shown a willingness to wax colorizing in the company of Anthony Pasquarosa, Jen Powers and Matthew Rolin. The happy surprise is Rosali Middleman, whose singer-songwriter efforts have kept her guitar playing firmly in service of her songs. She doesn’t exactly abandon lyricism in Monocot, but the tunes serve as launching ramps for exuberant lunges into the realm of voltage-saturated sound. On “Ruby Throated,” the first of the record’s four extended jams, Middleman lofts rippling peals over a near-boil of  drums and churning loops. By the time you get to “Multidimensional Solutions,” the last and longest track, her wah-wah-dipped streams of sound have taken on a blackened quality, as though her overheating tubes have burned every note.

Bill Meyer

Obits — Die at the Zoo (Outer Battery)

Die At The Zoo by Obits

Few aughts rock bands held more promise than Obits. The four-piece headed by Hot Snakes’ Rick Froberg and Edsel’s Sohrab Habibion emerged in 2005 with a stinging, stripped-back, blues-touched sound. Froberg’s feral snarl rode a surfy, twitchy amplified onslaught, that was, by 2012 a finely tuned machine. I caught one of the live shows following Moody, Standard and Poor at small club in Northampton the same year this was recorded (so small that I was sitting on a couch next to Froberg, oblivious, for 20 minutes before the show), and what struck me was how well the band played together. The records sound chaotic, and that was certainly there in performance, but the cuts and stops were perfect, the surfy instrumental breaks (“New August”) absolutely in tune. At the time this set was recorded in the Brisbane punk landmark known as the Zoo, the band was near the peak of its considerable powers—and regrettably near the end of its run. Die at the Zoo is reasonably well recorded, rough enough to capture the band’s raucous energy, skilled enough so you can understand the words and hear all the parts. It hits all the highlights, blistering early cuts like “Widow of My Dreams,” and “Pine On,” the blues cover “Milk Cow Blues,” and later, slightly more melodic ragers like “Everything Looks Better in the Morning” and “You Gotta Lose.” The guitar work is particularly sharp throughout, its straight-on chug breaking into fiery blues licks and surfy whammy explosions. It’s a poignant reminder of a time when American rock bands played ferocious shows halfway across the world (or anywhere) as a matter of course and a fitting eulogy for Obits.

Jennifer Kelly

A Place To Bury Strangers — Hologram (Dedstrange)

Hologram EP by A Place To Bury Strangers

A Place To Bury Strangers returns with a new rhythm section and renewed focus on the elements that made its version of revivalism the loudest if not brashest of the New York aughties. Sarah and John Fedowitz on drums and bass join Oliver Ackerman on the five track EP Hologram which is the most concise and vital APTBS release for a while. For all the criticism of copyism thrown at the band since their early days, APTBS has always been as much about Ackerman’s production skills and feel for texture as musical originality and the songs on Hologram sound fantastic at volume. Beneath the sonic onslaught of fuzz and reverb, not a brick is misplaced in this intricately constructed sonic wall. True “I Might Have” is pure Jesus & Mary Chain and “In My Hive” a Wax Trax take on Spector but Hologram is an endorphin rush of guitar driven noise bound to make one forget the world, if only for a while.

Andrew Forell

Praises — EP4 (Hand Drawn Dracula)

Jesse Crowe’s work as Praises has been ongoing since 2014, but has shifted in tone, instrumentation and emphasis since then. While the first two EPs have more of a full, rock band feel, the third one and 2018’s full-length In This Year: Ten of Swords took things in a more electronic, sometimes industrial direction. It was an even better fit for the rest, probing creativity evident in Praises’ work, and 3/4s of the new EP4 are in a pleasingly similar vein. The echoing, ringing denunciations of “We Let Go” and “A World on Fire” are fine examples of Praises’ existing strengths, but the opening “Apples for My Love” is immediately captivating in a very different way. Gauzy and rapturous, it’s a reverie that keeps the satisfying textural detail of the other songs but turns them to different ends. It’s not something that was missing from Crowe’s work before — again, the other tracks here are also very good — but a reminder that what Praises has shown before is not the extent of what they can do.

Ian Mathers

The Sundae Painters — The First SP Single (Leather Jacket)

“This is a supergroup, is it not?” someone asked the Sundae Painters bassist Paul Kean on social media last year, to which he responded, “Some may choose that title. We prefer superglue.” Kaye Woodward, his wife and longtime bandmate in both The Bats and Minisnap, takes the lead vocal on “Thin Air,” one of the pair of A-sides found on their new band’s debut seven-inch. From the outset, Kean’s unmistakable bass playing and Hamish Kilgour’s (The Clean/Mad Scene) drumming lock into a psychedelic march, with the other instruments weaving like kites above, vying for position on the same breeze. “You fight your way down/You fight your way up/You wait for the dust to settle,” Woodward sings. A few gentle strums cut their way through the parade, and a guitar calls out gull-like from above, before everything trails off as if something potent has just kicked in. On the flip side, “Aversion” has an old friend-like familiarity to it, soundwise (if not lengthwise) sitting somewhere between VU’s “The Gift” and “Sister Ray.” Things begin a little stand-offish, though, like you’ve interrupted a guitar pontificating to a rapt audience — it turns its head to look you over, falling momentarily silent, before picking right back up where it left off. Kilgour’s spoken vocals join the conversation, as the song builds towards a groovy kind of fever pitch. “You look a little stoned,” he says, before responding to his own observation. “Well me I’m a little bit groggy/But it ain’t too foggy/I can see some way of getting out of here.” By this point, both guitars (played by Woodward and Tall Dwarfs’ Alec Bathgate) are full-on screeching and howling, and as the song sputters to a sudden finish, our man’s left waiting for someone to buy him “a ride out the gate.”

Chris Liberato    

Thou — Hightower (Self-released)

Hightower by Thou

Hightower is the latest in a string of digital compilations from Thou, most of which collect songs that have been previously released on small-batch splits, 7” records and other hyper-obscure media that briefly circulated through the metal underground. You might be tempted to pronounce that a cynical cash-grab, but Thou has posted Hightower (along with previous compilations, like Algiers, Oakland and Blessings of the Highest Order, a killer collection of Nirvana covers) on their official Bandcamp page as a name-yo’-price download. Thanks, band. Beyond convenience, Hightower has an additional, if a sort of inside-baseball, attraction. The band has re-recorded a few of its older songs with its latest, three-guitar line-up. Longtime listeners will recognize “Smoke Pigs” and “Fucking Chained to the Bottom of the Ocean,” which already sounded terrifyingly massive back in 2008 and 2007, respectively. The expanded instrumentation, new arrangements and better production give the songs even more power and depth, all the way down to the bottom of the effing ocean. Yikes. And there are a few additional touches, like K.C. Stafford’s clean vocals on “Fucking Chained…,” which provide an effective complement to Bryan Funck’s inimitably scabrous howl. Rarely has being pummeled and feeling bummed out been so vivifying.

Jonathan Shaw

Tropical Fuck Storm — Deep States (Joyful Noise)

Deep States by Tropical Fuck Storm

Fueled by exasperation as much as anger, the new album by Melbourne’s Tropical Fuck Storm rounds on the myriad ways in which the world has become a “Bumma Sanger” as leader Gareth Liddiard puts it on the eponymous song about COVID lockdown. A roiling meld of psychedelic garage garnished with elements of hip hop and electronic noise it’s close in method and mood if not sound to another Australian provocateur JG Thirwell whose Foetus project girded maximalist surfaces with rigid discipline. If the Tropical Fuck Storm sought to mirror current conditions, they succeed but lack of clarity in both production and intent makes Deep States a frustrating experience. Backing vocals from Fiona Kitschin (bass), Erica Dunn (keys and guitar) and Lauren Hammel (drums) leaven Liddiard’s blokey pronouncements and there are some good sounds and biting words but the band’s determination to overelaborate and underdevelop musical ideas makes this album seem like a lost opportunity.

Andrew Forell

Marta Warelis / Carlos “Zingaro” / Helena Espvall /Marcelo dos Reis — Turquoise Dream (JACC)

Turquoise Dream by Marta Warelis, Carlos "Zíngaro", Helena Espvall, Marcelo dos Reis

Turquoise Dream documents an example of an encounter that is a mainstay of avant-garde jazz festivals, in which out of towners mix it up locals that they may or may not know. This particular concert, which took place at the Jazz ao Centro Festival in 2019, is one such encounter that deserves to live past the night when it transpired. It featured three stringed instrument players who live in Portugal and a Polish pianist who is based in Holland. But they don’t sound like strangers at all. Violinist Zingaro, cellist Espvall, and guitarist dos Reis blend like flashes of sunlight reflecting off of waves, adding up to a sound that is bright and ever-changing. Warelis, who is equally resourceful with her head under the lid of her piano as she is at the keyboard, adding fleet but substantial responses to her hosts’ quicksilver interactions. The result is music that is resolutely abstract but closely engaged.

Bill Meyer

Wharflurch — Psychedelic Realms ov Hell (Gurgling Gore)

PSYCHEDELIC REALMS OV HELL by Wharflurch

Wharflurch is just plain fun to say — but there are at least two ways in which the name also makes sense for the band that has chosen it: it has a bilious, nauseous quality that matches the vibe of the pustulent death metal you’ll hear on Psychedelic Realms ov Hell; and if you separate the words, you can conjure a sodden, rotten wooden structure, swaying vertiginously over a marshy expanse of water, which is filled with alligators and decaying organic material. Imagine that sway, and that stink, and then imagine yourself collapsing into the viscous fluid, soon to be gator chow. Sounds like Florida, and that’s exactly from whence Wharflurch has emerged. Which also makes sense. Is Wharflurch’s music “psychedelic”? Depends on what you hear in that word. If you want to see hippies dancing ecstatically on a verdant, sun-drenched stretch of Golden Gate Park, then no. But if you have spent any time in the warped, dementedly distorted spaces that psychedelics can open (less happily perhaps, but very powerfully), then yes. Wharflurch likes to accent its meaty riffs and muscular thumps with weird flutters and electronic effects that frequently have a gastric, flatulent quality to them. The saturated and sickly pinks and greens on the album art do a pretty good job of capturing the music’s tones. So do the song titles: “Stoned Ape Apocalypse,” “Bog Body Boletus,” “Phantasmagorical Fumes.” Still game? I’m sorry. But I’ll also be standing right there next to you, on that wobbly, lurching wharf, watching the gators swim near.

Jonathan Shaw

Whisper Room — Lunokhod (Midira Records)

Lunokhod by Whisper Room

That the title of Whisper Room’s fifth album is taken from Soviet lunar rovers makes a certain sense, given how potentially frustrating it might have been for the trio to be working at such a distance. Generally their other records are recorded live, in one room, seeing Aidan Baker (guitar), Jakob Thiesen (drums) and Neil Wiernik (bass) exploring simultaneously, hitting whatever junctions of psychedelic/shoegazing/motorik sound come to them. With Baker in Berlin and travel understandably limiited, this time they recorded their parts separately, layering them together (and bringing in sound designer Scott Deathe to add the kind of pedal processing their sound engineer normally does live). The result certainly sounds as collaborative as ever, seven seamless tracks making up nearly an hour that makes the journey from the friendly, clattering percussion of “Lunokhod01” to the centrifugal ambience of “Lunokhod07” feel perfectly natural. Even though it explores just as much inner and outer space as Whisper Room ever have, there’s something very approachable about Lunokhod that makes it one of their best.

Ian Mathers

[infinitesimal-grey]

Dragon Virgil

The Escape

Part 1 | Part 2 (here)

A/N: this was really well received, u h m, so i kinda made a part two in one 3 hour go... annnd it's over 400 words longer...;-;.... anyways its 4:20am so I'm going to schedule this to post at exactly 2:30pm today. I hope yall enjoy it then bc right now i must sleep 😪😪 Feedback and asks are very appreciated no matter the length <3

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Guard Report 2007665: Guards Revar Lee and Remus Gunther sent to transport prisoner John Doe to Imperial General Janus Killjoy were found unconscious in front of Underground Cellblock C. Upon reinforcement arrival Guard Remus Gunther was naked- reason: unknown

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Maintenance Request 19790093: 

Location: Westward Wing Aviary 

Type: Wall installation, door installation.

Reason: Its gone.

-

if this read more doesn't work I'm going to castrate tumblr

Roman was so focused on the guards he had forgotten the beast behind him until a searing pain rocketed up his arm. He looked down in alarm to a snarling onyx snout and flashes of white fangs clamping down on his arm.

He screamed- boy did he scream.

The startled, would-be prince had only a moment of startled eye contact with himself in the dragons wide pupils before being yanked into motion.

There was a slight protest from the guards but that was snuffed out fast by way of two thwumps in quick succession. Roman could only guess that they were knocked out, because by the time he looked back all he saw was their bodies slumped against the cell wall.

As he half ran half got-dragged down dank and damp corridor after dank and damp corridor Roman made some very intelligent noises in the spirit of protest, shock, pain and fear altogether… Though it was nothing like the twinkass yelp he gave when he ran directly into his newest, scaliest captor.

Roman's complaint was cut off abruptly with Virgil's tail. The dragon was glaring pointedly at the T in the hallway as he forced Roman against the wall. Roman gratefully pulled his arm to him and held it, too preoccupied with stemming bleeding to care why they had stopped.

Virgil screamed internally as guard after guard marched past, cursing his luck and lack of forethought. He huffed and grabbed the back of his hostages shirt, fleeing back the way he came.

Though before he could make it quite all the way there, Virgil had to scrape to a stop. He was glad the human had enough foresight to stop this time, as around the corner there were shouts as the unconscious jailers were found.

Virgil winced, thanking whoever the fuck was behind fate as the guard's footsteps faded away from them. Breathing a breath of relief, Virgil unceremoniously shoved Roman at the unconscious bodies.

"Undress the freakishly tall one." Virgil ordered the human, his voice slightly strained and uncomfortable from talking mid shift.

"What?? Why in the ever-loving six kingdoms would I do that?" 

Virgil sniffed, of course he'd taken an idiot for a hostage.

"Because I said so. And I just saved you from one of those kingdoms' dungeons and possible de-tonguing so I wouldn't be so quick to deem them ever-loving." Virgil hissed, tongue still sharply forked.

Roman turned on a heel to argue but flushed a million degrees when he stood face to chest with the "dragon", now an extremely tall, pale man. His eyes trailed up to find angry gold eyes and canines sharper than his sword… wherever that was at the minute.

Virgil snarled and snapped his canines at the stupid, gawking human, sufficiently serving to cow him.

"Well argued." Roman squeaked. He quickly turned and pulled the suit off of the taller guard. He tossed it behind him piece by piece, trying not to look. The relatively short prince could practically feel the near 7 foot tall man looming behind him.

Virgil got dressed as fast as he could, debating his chances of success without a hostage. In case he just backhanded the human across the hall right then and there.

Soon enough though he was dressed. He grabbed Roman's arm to pull him along again. Virgil was met at a loud exclamation by the human, making him recoil and try to pin his ears back- before he remembered he couldn't do so anymore, of course.

"I can run fine by myself." Roman huffed at Virgil's frown, vision slightly blurred by pain-- or was that blood loss…...?

Virgil growled low and long, glancing down the hall to make sure the path was clear. "Fine. But keep up or I swear I will leave your boney ass in these gutters."

Roman nodded gratefully before realizing the shifter was already halfway down the hall. The prince scrambled after him with a yelp.

They took more turns than Roman could count but finally charged up a flight of stairs into a sunlit and decadently decorated hall.

Virgil took half a second to choose before taking off westward. It wasn't long before he ran into a group exiting one of the rooms off the hall.

The one in charge- the general, Virgil guessed- was so covered with baubles and pins you couldn't tell where the General began and the General ended. He was surrounded by a smattering of less decorated guards with their swords all drawn.

The Decorated Man spoke first- voice calm and sharp like peppered honey. "Now how did you two get up here?" He rose an eyebrow struck with an old burn scar, "I was certainly expecting you-" The man sneered at Roman, who was cowering behind Virgil, "But to be accompanied by you 02268- now that is… unexpected." The corners of his yellow-green eyes tightened.

Guard Report 2006659: Daemon 02268 was arrested by Guard Remus Gunther this morning after being caught shifting without permit at the Happy Anchor Pub and Inn.

Note: Schedule for de-hum. serum

Virgil's breath hissed and he backed up, nearly tripping over Roman- Roman! That's it! He unsheathed the sword from his pilfered uniform, drawing Roman to his chest and the blade to his throat.

Roman let out a surprised gurgle as it all happened before their enemies could even blink. Actually, he wasn't sure who was his enemy anymore.

"Really? You think he gives you any bargaining power?" The general simpered mockingly. "Drop your weapon now and come get your medicine so you can go back to how you're supposed to be." Virgil stayed silent, but glared furiously at the general.

Roman debated who he'd rather be prisoner of- a batshit crazy daemon or a vengeful psychopath of a general--- Virgil, meanwhile, didn't give him a chance to choose. The dragon shifter flattened Roman against his chest and up off his feet before bolting right into the heavy oak doors to his right. He roared in pain upon impact but the obediently doors gave way, flying off their hinges with a groan of twisted, broken metal. Unexpectedly, his forward momentum also rammed him directly through a second, glass door.

Virgil only distantly registered that he was in an aviary by the chaotic calls of what could be hundreds of birds.

But compared to the sound of his own racing pulse, the sound of birdcall and beating wings was faint.

Virgil was shifting and running at full tilt before the glass and feathers even hit the floor.

He could hear the Decorated Man shouting at the guards to follow him, making him sprint even harder through the lush aviary.

Virgil leapt nearly 8 feet in the air over an ancient rhododendron bush, his now-digitigrade legs crackling through the seams of his pants to expose black scales and claws.

His obsidian chest burst through his shirt upon landing, unable to contain the rapidly transforming dragon.

The guards' footsteps were heavy behind them, Virgil couldn't stop now.

Massive wings tore the guard coat free from his shoulders. The leather, claw and scale appendages flared in attempt to hold the air beneath Virgil.

He focused in on the far wall, aiming his horns for the largest pain of glass. It stood 15 feet above a lush wall of greenery. Beyond that was a sharp drop off... and freedom.

Roman was scared silent. He watched from one wide eye as his captor transformed against him. The chest he was pinned to became covered in cool, black scales and expanded nearly 8 fold. The arms behind him thickened to encircle a good amount of his back. The only cloth was the tattered scraps still pinned to Virgil by him.

Nevertheless the transformation and previous jump was nothing compared to what Roman felt next as he was suddenly completely weightless.

Once again, the sound of glass breaking sounded and shards of glass decorated the air around the odd pair. Though this time- they didn't land.

[very-very-dizzy]

20

Seaweed-20

Sorry if this one took a long while! The idea started out small, but actually turned into a short nearly 2k fic. For this prompt, I had some good ideas on what to do but they were mostly spoilers so went with this! For who takes narrative? A good question.

(Warning for dark themes, injury, death)

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Heavy footsteps slammed against metallic floors. Each in rhythm as they marched forward. Those in sync each adorned two strands of seaweed on their goggles. A symbol that told of their superiority over all else.

There would be no peace as their song was one of execution.

An octoling young enough where she neared her humanoid form but still hadn't developed full tentacles, ran for her life. Avoiding other octarians as they all ran from the sound of marching. In her arms, she carried a younger octoling who clung tightly to her shirt..

Years before the octoling had found them thrown out into her dome just like other defects. Taking them in as a sibling and showing them to her small family. It was common in the outer domes for octarians to form groups as survival alone was hopeless. Although, they both would have to worry later about their family as finding a place to hide them was currently more important.

Finding a small gap against a building’s wall, the octoling stopped and set their sibling inside. Grabbing a frame from a nearby pile of panels and using it to cover the gap. It was an area she would hide them each time elites came through their dome. While not her size, it was enough to keep her little sibling hidden.

“[Stay in there and remember to not move.]” She whispered.

Once seeing that the panel was secured, the octoling grabbed a few pieces of scrap metal. She crept away from the hiding spot, but stopped as multiple voices grew in volume. Looking quickly for somewhere to hide, she found a spot behind a box as footsteps came closer.

A shout caused all of the footsteps to pause. The octoling covered her mouth as someone walked over to where she hid. Giving a small thud as they sat down on the box she hid behind. Throwing aside their octoshot to where she hid.

“[Hey Lake! How’s that other Ida doing? Heard they’re already working on the Great Octoweapons in Slimeskin Garrison.]”

Eyes wide, the octoling knew who they were speaking to. A cruel monster that led many platoons through her dome. She started to shiver in fear as their voice, a voice she’d grown to dread, spoke up with its gruff tone.

Colonel Lake Ida.

“[Don’t know how much she’s doing personally. Labs keep a close eye on keeping information hidden, but they never get anything past me.]” Lake paused before continuing again, “[Anyway, heard she already figured out how to change her forms. Kid’s already 14 and doing things I never could have at her age.]”

“[Really?]” Another soldier asked.

“[Of course. While those pebbles think she’s got to be isolated, I’m planning on giving her a visit soon. Heard she’s been given some training but still hesitates with executing opponents.]” She let out a laugh, “[Although, what’s amazing is that she is building weapons that’ll splat those disgusting squids, achieving perfect scores, and being top notch in physical activities. Makes me jealous of her levels of intelligence, but at least I’m still  better than you low-grades.]”

The group of soldiers broke into laughter. Although a few were quiet growls could be heard at their response. Once they stopped, a nervous voice spoke up amongst them. With how quiet they were, it was easy to guess they were someone new.

“[Um… Colonel Ida? Why are we out out here in the outer domes?]” 

“[To perform our duty of preserving the Octarian Empire. Out here, there’s mutant and throw-outs that our government wastes donating supplies and energy to. That’s why it is up to us to lower their numbers.]” Lake responded.

A small noise of discomfort was made. “[Do the higher-ups know?]”

“[Of course, but they don’t want to make it public. DJ Octavio knows the public would make a large fuss over providing for these weaklings. So, that’s why our task is a simple task that must be done for the greater good.]”

“[So we are to splat all in sight?]” There was a hint of uncertainty in the nervous elite’s voice.

“[Affirmative, but also to capture and release. A little game of inspiring fear into any that try to fight back. It’s also more fun to play around by having them try to run again.]” A panicked blurb sounded as a box away from them was smashed. Following after were shots of ink fired from an octoshot. “[They hold no power over us so don’t worry about them trying to report you, because they’ve seen your face. Do not forget we are superior over them, and I am above you all.]”

“[That’s correct! Now let’s head out!]” The more cheerful voice spoke out. It wasn’t hard to figure out they were Colonel Ida’s right-hand.

As the rest of the soldiers left, the octoling crept out from her hiding spot. Deciding to take off towards a small shelter. Sweat pouring off her face as continued to run. Breaths staggering with each step taken as her body screamed to keep going.

Until she turned one corner and slammed against a wall. Having forgotten before that there had been reconstruction to rebuild a home that crumbled after time. Too focused on her own self, she hadn’t heard footsteps from behind.

“[Seems you made a wrong turn, kid.]”

Freezing up in fear, the octoling refused to turn around. Her mind screamed to run knowing full well that she had been caught. It was now life or death, and she needed to flee or fight.

“[It’s you again!]” Lake beamed, a grin donning her face. “[How much of a delight this is being I get a second chance at killing you.]”

The young octoling attempted to make an escape, but was grabbed as Lake picked her up with ease. She repeatedly slammed the small octoling against a wall, until deciding enough was done. Knowing they wouldn’t be unconscious as she had held back her strength.

“[Don’t think I forgot about last time. How a pathetic weakling like you managed to scratch my face. But don’t worry, I’ll make sure this time you won’t get a chance to run again.]”

As the octoling struggled to push herself up, she didn’t expect Lake to grab her again. This time, throwing her against a window, which shattered upon impact. Shards of glass digging into her side as she landed upon a dirt floor.

Vision fading in and out, her body felt as if it had been set ablaze from inside. Sharp prinpicks kept stabbing at her arms. Her own tentacles ached with pain from the harsh landing. Picking at her eyes’ edge were droplets of tears ready to fall. Ready for her to give in and break down from the pain.

The young octoling closed her eyes, awaiting for her misery to already end at the elite’s hand. A sound made her open her eyes, and she found herself staring directly into a pair of green eyes with pink peanut shape irises. A clawed hand suddenly grabbed her by the neck, and lifted her upward.

“[Looks like I found you-]”

Lake was cut off as a jagged scrap of metal was pushed into her throat by the octoling. Dropping the octoling, she continued to grasp at the gaping laceration. Making an attempt to stop as more of a turquoise liquid pushed out as her wound opened further once she pulled the metal shard out.

“[BRAT! I’LL-]” Lake broke into heavy coughing.

While unknown to the both of them, multiple octarians burst from a closet inside the building. Each going behind it and using their weight to push it down. Giving enough force that it eventually did fell upon the bleeding elite, but not the young octoling.

After the large noise from impact, shouts from outside came and made everyone inside panic. An octotrooper made its way over to the young octoling and pushed against her side. Their eyes were filled with fear knowing that they all wouldn’t have time. “[Hurry! Go!]”

Opening her mouth, the young octoling prepared to respond but felt something round press against her leg.

Ot, an octoball, and part of her family. While he hadn’t been in their family for long, she saw him as an older brother. He would aid her in supply runs whenever their stock would get low. Although now she feared they wouldn’t be after what had occurred.

“[Uu’oa, sister. We will distract them, and take fault.]” Ot spoke, “[What’ve you done has saved us from one monster.]”

“[B-But -]” She attempted to say, but was shoved by another octarian. More kept pushing against her as others ran to form a blockade against the other door. Shouts from outside growing louder.

“[Go! Hide! Then find G87-8!]” Ot shouted, pushing her through a back door.

With tears, the octoling nodded and limped away. Holding back sobs as she heard weapons being fired. It wouldn’t take long until she reached a small piece of panel.  Deciding it would be enough for her to hide in. Crawling under it, she finally let herself cry.

Barely able to process from what had occurred in just moments before.

As hours passed by, the young octoling woke up at the sound of voices. Two different ones from what she had heard before when Colonel Ida was giving her orders.

“[So what do we do about, Colonel Ida?]” One of the asked, seemingly tired.

“[We say she died because of dome debris. It’s what we use to excuse any deaths out here.]” They let out a small grunt. “[Anyway, our only priority is to get the injured out. We’ll tell Ida’s First Lieutenant about all of it after she’s in the med bay.]”

Slowly peeking out, the octoling noticed both had already left. Through more inspection, she confirmed it was safe to head back towards her little sibling. Going back to where she had left them.

Pulling away the panel, she nearly cried from relief. Seeing they were unharmed, she took them back out, and pulled her younger sibling into a tight hug. She would wait to tell them what had happened to Ot, not until they both were with their family. 

“[Are you okay?]” She asked them. Giving a little smile as they responded with a small nod.

Stepping away from their hiding spot, she walked into a crowd of fellow octarians. Seeing others with emptiness in their or tears as they sobbed for those that had been lost to the execution. A numbness filled their hearts as they knew it wouldn’t be the last. 

Seaweed.

It was that cursed object that became a symbol of death for them.

Swearing on her life, the octoling swore  to never adone the seaweed headpiece and become the monsters that marched through their dome.

Instead, she’ll become something they fear.

…

MEMORY REACQUISITION COMPLETE.

REPLAY?

TERMINATE?

OVERWRITE?

TRANSFER?

>[Terminate.]

MEMORY TERMIN-

ERROR.

>[Terminate.]

ERROR. ERROR. ERROR. ERROR. ERROR. ERROR. CORRUPTION FOUND. ERROR. ERROR. ERROR.

>[Retrieve Subject Status.]

SUBJECT 8,380: SANITIZED.

>[Retrieve Subject Orders]

ON STANDBY. 

>[Retrieve Subject Location.]

.

..

...MISSING.

[teddy-bear-surprise]

Chapter 3: I've Heard it All Before

|| Chapter 1 || Chapter 2 || Chapter 3 || Chapter 4 || Chapter 5 || Chapter 6 || Chapter 7 Part 1 || Chapter 7 Part 2 || Chapter 8 || Almost The End || Chapter 9 ||

WARNING: Mentions of blood/bleeding, bodily harm, pain, threats, and unsafe driving

It was nearly one in the morning when Catherine's feet began traveling quickly across the linoleum floors of her apartment. She had been calling Ophelia repeatedly for the past hour. Cat paced around with an angered expression on her face, eyebrows furrowed together, eyes widened, and mouth gaping. Her breathing grew less and less regulated by the second as her anger welled up. Her right hand gripped on the wooden countertop and in her left, her phone lay idly as she watched the line ring to no avail for the hundredth time.

"WHAT THE FUCK, OPHELIA!" Cat yelled loudly at her phone and slammed it into the ground.

Her hands flew up to her hair, grasping it exasperatedly.

"Shit, shit, shit. Oh god, what the hell did I just do," Cat leaned down, her anger now turning to fear, picking up the broken pieces of glass, plastic, and metal that were strewn around her.

"I– I can't do this right now," Cat pushed the pieces of her broken cellphone under her couch and ran over to her closet, nearly slipping on her way there. Her shaking hands reached for a change of clothes which she put on quickly. She ran back over to the front door of her apartment, yanking her keys off of the wall and slipping her feet into the first shoes she saw. She bolted out of the door, ignoring the elevator and instead, running down the stairs to the garage.

Once she reached her car, she sat in it, hands gripping the steering wheel, but refusing to go anywhere. She slammed her head against the wheel repeatedly with tears streaming down her face, "I can't do this again," she spoke with a fearful shakiness in her voice.

"I can't lose again. I won't lose. I won't," Cat took a deep breath in and wiped her tears from her eyes.

She reached down to grab her keys and turned on the car, its engine grumbling as it came to life. Her car swerved aggressively between the lanes, trying to get to Ophelia's house as quickly as possible.

Cat's mind wandered with every moment, almost as random as the twists and turns that she was making with her car, "What if I'm too late? They said they would be arriving after tomorrow, but what if they were wrong? What if Reid is already there? What if they have Ophelia?"

She veered the car again, completely distracted and just barely making it in between two cars, "I should go home, they don't know where I am, I can still hide," she shook her head fearfully, "Spencer doesn't know where I am... Right? There's no way that he knows. I'm just going to warn Ophelia, it's gonna be okay. We're not going to get caught. He won't get me again, he won't get us, I won't let him win this time."

A traffic light, only twenty meters ahead of her, turned yellow and she stepped down even harder on the car's acceleration. As she approached it, however, the light turned red and the cars from the other lanes began to move across the intersection. Upon seeing Cat's accelerating car, most drivers slammed onto their brakes, garnering a symphony of honks from behind them. For the few cars that did not, Cat expertly swerved around, only narrowly missing them.

"WHY THE HELL IS ANYONE EVEN DRIVING RIGHT NOW," Cat yelled at the crowded road in front of her, "IT IS ONE IN THE MORNING! GO TO BED!"

After her near brush with death, Cat's drive was exceptionally ordinary, but her anger did not falter. Forty minutes, and a handful of anxious thoughts later, she had arrived at Ophelia's doorstep. She stopped the car abruptly after pulling into the driveway and cleared her vision by aggressively rubbing her eyes.

Cat got out of the car, slamming the door behind her and stomping over to Ophelia's front door, "OPHELIA! WAKE UP! NOW!"

Her clenched fist banged on the door rhythmically with a brute force that exceeded the size of her body, "I AM NOT IN THE MOOD TODAY! OPHELIA! I'M SERIOUS! WAKE THE FUCK UP AND OPEN THIS DAMN DOOR!"

There was no answer, no light flicking on, and no motion within the house. Cat was growing impatient and now kicking the door, "OPHELIA G–DDAMN SUTTON! OPEN THIS DOOR BEFORE I DRIVE OVER TO NEVADA AND BURN YOUR FUCKING MOTHER TO ASHES!"

She leaned down to pick up a rock and threw it through one of the windows. It landed only a foot away from Ophelia who had rolled off of the couch in her slumber. Ophelia's head shot up, her eyes flickered open, and she let out a small groan as she grasped her aching head, "What the fuck is going on?"

Ophelia turned over onto her stomach and saw Cat's car outside, "Oh no."

She scrambled onto her feet rapidly. Her body still lightly swaying due to her not yet being sober and her deathly hangover. Ophelia let her feet carry her slowly to her front door, careful to avoid the shards of glass that were now covering half of the floor. When she reached it, she only barely opened it, scared as to why Cat was acting the way she was, "Hi, Cat. Ummm... What's the matter?"

"WHAT'S THE MATTER?!" Cat screeched back, "THE FUCKING FBI ARE ON OUR TAILS AND I KNOW THE TEAM THAT'S COMING HERE. THEY'RE THE ONES WHO PUT ME IN THAT FUCKING HELLHOLE IN THE FIRST PLACE, OPHELIA!"

Ophelia stood there with a shocked and dazed look on her face before she gathered her thoughts enough to respond, "Right, that's not great news, but I still don't get why you're here, Cat. They're not going to catch us, stop worrying," she began to shut the door, but Cat's hand stopped her.

She rolled her eyes at Ophelia, "We have to leave you fucking dimwit. We can't stay here or they'll catch us both and I am not letting that son-of-a-bitch, Reid, catch me again."

"I'm not leaving, Catherine. I don't know what your obsession is with this 'Reid' person is, but I'm not letting your paranoia affect me," her words stung Cat deeply.

"This isn't paranoia, Ophelia. I went years without anyone even coming close to finding me out. This 'Reid person' is the only one who has ever caught me. He knows everything about me and I bet that he knows everything about you too. It's too late, we have to go. Now." Cat reached out to grab Ophelia's wrist.

"No, he doesn't, Catherine," she shook Cat's hand off of her arm, "You are being paranoid. We covered our tracks. We even used a different M.O. than your signature. There is literally nothing connecting you to this case and if you're so fucking blinded by your fear that you can't realize that, then I don't want to work with you anymore."

"Take it back," said Cat, and Ophelia shook her head.

Cat only grew more agitated with Ophelia's denial, "I said. Take. It. Back. Stop joking like this, Ophelia."

Ophelia scoffed at her, "Who said I was joking?"

"What the hell? I don't think you understand the fucking severity of what is happening right now. We are on the brink of getting caught so I came here to warn you, yet all I get in return is your hatred. You were the first person I thought about, Ophelia. The first one. I care about you, why can't you see that?" Cat's eyes softened ever so slightly and almost won Ophelia over.

"Nope. I don't want to see it, Catherine. Because it's always about you no matter what the situation is. I'm not getting involved in your irrational semantics this time around, okay? Just leave. I don't have enough patience to deal with you right now," Ophelia pushed Cat's hand out of the doorway and slammed the door shut.

"YOU'RE GOING TO REGRET THIS, OPHELIA! JUST WAIT," Cat broke into a fit of deranged laughter which rang through the valley.

"HE'S GONNA GET YOU, AND I'M NOT GONNA HELP YOU. IT'S NOW OR NEVER, OPHELIA. NOW OR NEVER. IF YOU DON'T COME WITH ME NOW, THEN THIS IS ALL OVER! IF YOU LET ME LEAVE, WE'RE OVER!"

Cat was lingering impatiently beside her car, waiting for Ophelia to join her as a small tear slipped from her eye, contrasting with the rage that took the forefront in her words.

Ophelia yelled out towards Cat from behind the closed door, "YOU DON'T SCARE ME, CAT! I'VE HEARD IT ALL BEFORE, BUT YOU NEVER, EVER, EVER GO THROUGH WITH ANYTHING. YOU DON'T SCARE ME CATHERINE ADAMS, AND NEITHER DOES THAT FUCKING IDIOT, REID, YOU KEEP COMPLAINING ABOUT."

Cat spared one last look towards the silent house and made eye contact with Ophelia who was hiding behind the door. When Ophelia did not budge, she got into her car and sped away, visibly fuming.

"I'll see you on the other side, hun," Ophelia whispered under her breath and slid down the front door.

After sitting in this position for nearly ten minutes, Ophelia stood up, remembering that she had to clean up Cat's mess. She had swept up all of the shards, collecting them into a pile by the door, but had forgotten to grab a dustpan. Her eyes darted around her surroundings. Still, she could not find a dustpan anywhere. What she did find, however, was a sheet of corrugated plastic. Ophelia swept the shards onto the floppy sheet of plastic and carefully crept over to her trash can.

On her way over, Ophelia's foot slipped in the darkness and though she did not fall, a large shard of glass did. Without even thinking, her impulses kicked in and her other hand jolted forward to catch the falling piece of glass. Her eyes winced shut as a shock of pain coursed through her arm and she did her best not to drop any more glass while she finished her journey to the garbage bin.

When everything was thrown away, including the shard that had been in her hand, she crumpled onto the floor with blood streaming down her arm. The pain now dulled into a pulsing numbness and her mind grew foggy as she lost more and more blood. With adrenaline coursing through her rapidly diminishing supply of blood, Ophelia grabbed firmly onto her wrist, below the cut to stop the bleeding, and stood up. She made her way over to her bathroom where she kept her first-aid kit, still dripping blood all over the ground.

Ophelia let go of her wrist to open her first-aid kit and the blood began pooling in her hands again. She finally opened the box and twisted the cap off of the alcohol, pouring it directly onto her bleeding hand. She screamed out as she felt the alcohol burning every nerve in her arm. The blood washed away with the alcohol and the bleeding slowed.

Now feeling somewhat better, she grabbed the suture kit that was buried within and ripped it open with her teeth. Ophelia inhaled deeply, flinching as the tip of the needle passed through the thick skin of her hand. She worked quickly and let her adrenaline, and the weak effects of last night's drinking, take her over again, numbing her mind and body.

After eight stitches, Ophelia's hand was finally fixed, though she could not move it. She doused it in alcohol again and wrapped it tightly in gauze. She put everything back up and went into her closet to change into pajamas. Once dressed, Ophelia got into bed, hoping to get some sleep and forget the wretched events of the day.

Ophelia let out a long sigh and spoke to herself, "I just wanted a normal night. Why couldn't I just have a normal night," she turned her head up to the skylight in her room, "Whoever you are, Reid, you better have a damn good reason for scaring Cat this much."

[supernova1us]

Top 10 things a Bionicle G3 reboot would need

In the case that a G3 reboot of bionicle is made, here are the improvements or necessary changes that I think it would need to rise above the failures that doomed G2.

1.       Better structure to the elements.  It has always been redundant that of the core 6 elements, we had water and ice as well as earth and stone. It just didn’t quite make sense. And don’t get me started on g2 swapping air for jungle.  G3 should try find a better balance. My ideal list is energy(evolved from lighting in G1), fire, water, earth, air, sound and metal(evolved from iron in G1).

2.       More focus on mythology and fantasy. Many fans agree that in G1, though the continued story and lore did grew, the fantastical elements of the series were diminished by the more sci-fi setting/direction.

3.       Better definition of mata nui and makuta. Their relationships and status were an ever changing facet in G1 one that grew less special and complex over time as more light was shed on it. I think a more clear interpretation, like the first years of G1, would be appropriate; they are brother deities, one representing light, the other darkness.

4.       A consistent design for makuta.  Bothe g1 and g2 have done this. I just feel like the main villain should have a constant, recognizable appearance.  Not always changing so we are unable to identify with them, or sometimes not even recognize them(the maxilos robot in g1 through me for a loop for a while)  

5.       Breaking from the standard toa team.  The toa mata are undoubtedly the main characters of the franchise but like the elements, I think after two series a change is needed for a fresh start. I have my own team roster, based on other toa from G1, but that isn’t the focus here. I’m just saying that an update would likely be in the franchises best interest.  

6.       Focusing more on the main island.  As the main setting, I think the primary island, whatever it may be called, should remain the primary focus. It can be any size and could have so many locations and plot possibilities. Seeing and exploring other islands is fine but I feel like mata nui, like many things from the early g1 years, was abandoned and forgotten fast.

7.       Toa armor/designs reflecting their elements.  In both g1 and g2, the toa were very generic or non-distinct mechanoids in design. If you took away the colors and weapons of the toa, there was no identifying their elements or tribe.  Many, including myself, liked how the looks of the glatorian incorporated armor parts associated with their elements(ice shards, vines/leaves, rocks, fins).  I feel like more distinct and element specific looks should be designed for the toa. It would also bridge that gap of just robots to something more in tune with nature.

8.       Emphasis on masks. I believe that masks should be very special and rare things with more ceremony and importance on characters who have special ones.  I did like the G2 idea of all the islanders having a uniform one, though I think something more tribal would be more appropriate, and special individuals earning new masks being a big deal.  I can also go either way on the idea of masks having powers or not.

9.       Not forgetting what worked.  That last thing a reboot should do is everything different and forget the past. There were a lot of great things that worked in g1 and even some in g2.  They should be carried over an improved on, not forgotten or diminished like other franchises have tried to do.

10.   Canonize romance. G1 basically denied it existed and g2 might have had it but lets face it, it never told compelling stories or went into characters developments of any kind. I know it can be a groaner but any sentient race, even if it doesn’t reproduce, will develop relationships akin to love.  It doesn’t need to be a focus, but it is always a good factor of telling a story. Hewkii X Macku forever!      

[xialing-gf]

goodbye

summary: you do all 16 things you should do after a break up in hopes of moving on from MJ

 (Week 7 of my 30 week prompt challenge: breaking up)

Wc: 2148

a/n: this is based off the poem “to do list (after the breakup)” by rupi kaur, from her book “milk and honey”

read on ao3!

1. take refuge in your bed

The pro of being dumped right before spring break was that you had the entire spring break to get over being broken up with. The con of being dumped right before spring break was that you had the entirety of spring break to think about MJ and the breakup. 

Lying in your bed, memories of MJ replaying through your head. You were curled up underneath a few layers of blankets, seeking refuge from the chilly New York spring that seemed to still feel like winter. This was your first break up ever and there were certain things you should do, according to your experienced friends.

They told you that laying in bed for hours on end and feeling emotions was totally normal. So, instead of doing the generous amount of homework teachers assigned, you were bundled up in your blankets, wallowing in pity, which was supposed to be a good thing. The only reasons you got up was to get water and food (mainly ice cream) or to use the bathroom.

Your parents knew that MJ broke up with you and didn’t pressure you to get out of bed or to do work; they understood that you were mourning a loss and gave you plenty of space. Unlike how one could get tired from sitting in a chair for long periods of time, one could never get tired of lying in bed. While lying in bed, you had tried to watch funny clips from talk shows and adorable videos of animals that would make you smile until your cheeks hurt, but they only temporarily distracted you from the pain. 

Most of the time, you just stared at your colorful bedroom walls or mindlessly browsed through photos of you and MJ in your camera roll that you couldn’t bring yourself to delete. You knew you would have to move on eventually but right now, you decided to indulge in the sharp pain of the shards of a failed love.

2. cry. till the tears stop (this will take a few days)

In addition to lying in bed for hours on end, thinking about MJ, you also coped with your emotions by crying. Crying is generally a healthy way to cope with emotions but you had cried so much in the past few days that you were starting to get worried about your own health. 

Through the multiple days of crying and lying in your bed, you discovered there were different types of crying. The first type was crying after an event just happened, the pain still fresh in your heart. It was an intense cry, tears punctuated by small hiccups as you tried to breathe through the nonstop sobs climbing up your throat. The second type was crying a few hours later, remembering that you had just been separated from the love of your life. The third type of crying was the crying that occurred through the last couple of days of spring break; the type where you would cry into your pillow or tissues during random periods of time, a different type of grief mixed with withdrawal ejected into your tears.

Finally, the crying stopped and the rivers in your eyes were controlled.

3. don’t listen to slow songs

Once school started again, you decided that you shouldn’t continue moping or else people would pester you with more questions about you and MJ. You had already gotten quite a few questions and it took all your willpower not to start crying when you answered their prodding questions.

In order to deal with all the curious people, you decided that you should try to improve your mood and that staying positive would help you deal with your emotions. So, you scrapped the playlist that you made for crying sessions that mainly had slow, sad songs and made an entirely new playlist titled with a simple smiley face.

In that playlist, you included songs that were made to boost one’s mood, such as “Don’t Stop Me Now” by Queen, and played the playlist whenever you could, usually between classes or when you were walking home.

The fast, upbeat songs did help improve your moods a few times but most of the time, it was just a temporary band-aid to help soothe the pain of breaking away from MJ.

4. delete their number from your phone even though it is memorized on your fingertips

If you had a dollar every time you picked up your phone wanting to call MJ, you would be richer than any president in the world. Fortunately, you had a lot of self-control and even though you would go to her contact and hover your finger above the “call” button, you would never press down. 

During spring break, you noted the absence of MJ, even more, when you instinctively began texting her about your feelings, something you always did when you two were dating, but you always deleted your messages before sending them. So many messages were the same phrases repeated over and over again and you wanted nothing more but to let her see all the pain you were experiencing. 

You knew that you were bound to accidentally call her or send a composed text so you deleted her number from your phone, even though it was etched into the walls of your heart and probably would never be forgotten.

5. don’t look at old photos

Technically, you had already broken the rule of “don’t look at old photos” during spring break but starting from now, you promised that you wouldn’t look at old photos, no matter how hard it would be. You promised yourself that you wouldn’t delete them but wait until you were ready to look at them and not feel pain upon seeing the smile of MJ’s face.

The hardest part was changing your phone’s wallpaper so it was no longer a picture of you and MJ smiling while hugging each other in front of a beautiful water fountain. Now, your wallpaper was simply a photo of the vast blue sea, filled with the uncertainty of waves and darkness.

6. find the closest ice cream shop and treat yourself to two scoops of mint chocolate chip, the min will calm your heart. you deserve the chocolate

Even though a dark cloud seemed to envelop you ever since the breakup, things were starting to get better and you felt ready to let go. You were proud of yourself for slowly getting better, even if it took longer than you expected.

This led to you deciding to treat yourself with a scoop of ice cream at your favorite ice cream shop. After school on Friday, you stopped by the ice cream shop and ordered a scoop of mint chocolate chip, your favorite flavor. You were in no rush to get home so once you got your scoop, you ate your ice cream as you watched people walk past the shop. 

The sun was starting to peek out of the clouds and for the first time since MJ left you, you couldn’t help but smile.

7. buy new bed sheets

You couldn’t look at your bed sheets anymore. Every time you saw them, you were reminded of her or reminded of lying in bed after crying about her. You had these bed sheets for almost three years and while they did have some sentimental value, you wanted to get new ones. Luckily, your mother understood and you bought new bedsheets online.

They arrived within a few days and after laying them out on your bed, you felt as though you could finally get a fresh start.

8. collect all the gifts, t-shirts, and everything with their smell on it and drop it off at a donation center

When people say they did some spring cleaning, you highly doubted that their definition of spring cleaning was the same as yours. On a weekend, you finally gathered up the nerve to collect all the items MJ gave to you as gifts and anything else that had her scent on it and put it in a box labeled “Donation”. It would be a shame to see all those items thrown away so you decided to donate them all to the local Goodwill.

As you handed the box over to the person who was working at the store, she asked if these items were all yours and instead of giving a complete answer, you simply managed a smile and vaguely answered, “They don’t belong to me now.”

9. plan a trip

Getting out of New York to clear your head was another great idea suggested by your friends. They all saw that you were getting better and didn’t need to listen to your forcefully upbeat playlist to be happy so they planned a trip to Hawaii with you. 

That trip was one of the best vacations of your life. It was a long weekend as teachers had some sort of events that resulted in the cancellation of three days of school after a weekend and during those five free days, you were in Hawaii with your friends, having a great time without MJ by your side.

10. perfect the art of smiling and nodding when someone brings their name up in conversation

Those two letters next to each other in any conversation was always devastating. Even though you believed you were finally over MJ, anytime somebody brought her name up, you would involuntarily tense up and unintentionally inject stiffness into your words. But, after countless conversations where her name was brought up, you finally mastered the art of smiling and holding back any pain that threatened to spill out from between your lips.

11. start a new project

The paintbrush no longer felt familiar to your fingers. At one point, you had painted whenever you could and that stopped once you reached high school. MJ did see a few of your paintings and asked a few times about it but you never fully explained why you loved painting so much. There wasn’t an exact reason you painted; perhaps it was a way for you to express yourself or maybe you just enjoyed the feeling of the brush gently dragging down a blank canvas. Either way, painting was one of your favorite hobbies and you decided to pick it up again.

Standing in front of a blank canvas propped up on your table surrounded by countless colors, you dipped your paintbrush in red and filled the empty canvas with colors.

12. whatever you do, do not call

You entertained the possibility of calling MJ again. You were in a good place and maybe you could finally talk to her without breaking down into tears. Your fingers hovered over her numbers and you gritted your teeth as you looked up at the ceiling, trying to gauge whether this was a good idea or not. 

Logically, calling her would only bring you down to the place you were right after you two broke up but there was still a flicker of hope in you that maybe talking to her would help you move on. Your logical side won and you turned off your phone, setting it aside as the air you trapped in your lungs finally escaped.

13. do not beg for what does not want to stay

Begging for forgiveness was always seen as losing but if it meant you could get MJ back, you were willing to concede. However, you were held back by your friends, who helped you calm down and delete the message you were about to send to MJ, asking for her forgiveness. They were right to do so as you needed to move on and there was no fixing what was broken.

14. stop crying at some point

The rivers were back again and stronger than ever. Just when you thought you had gotten over her, something broke inside you again and tears began pouring out of your eyes as you clutched your pillow, willing for every emotion in you to just stop. 

Pain was prodding at your stitched up heart, threating to slice it open again and when you opened your eyes after the last of sobs left your chest, shadows were crawling on your ceiling. 

15. allow yourself to feel foolish for believing you could’ve built the rest of your life in someone else’s stomach

You still couldn’t believe that you allowed yourself to hope that you and MJ could have a future together. Whenever you were with her, you always imagined that you would be able to hold her hand ten years from now and that you two would be cuddling in an apartment, content as you could be. Reality slammed that fantasy down but looking back, love had made you foolish enough to believe that everything could work out.

16. Breathe

You take a deep breath in and a deep breath out and finally let go. Freedom.

~

check out my marvel page for more marvel fics! i also have an mj x reader masterlist!

Taglist: @dutchiewhotriestowrite @just-your-local-history-nerd @chickenstrips45

(Comment if you want to be tagged in my marvel fics!)

[theincaprincess]

Shards of a forgotten past *part 9*

Afternoon darlings, here is part 9 for you! Hope you enjoy it! 

Tag list @amyf20​ @blankdblank​ @deepestfirefun​ @catthefearless​ @moonfaery​ @meyoko10​ @tolkienprincess​ @starlightintherain89​ @southsidesarcasticwriter​  @sdavid09​​ @thorinanddwalinsdwarrowdam​ @nikolett3​ @j25m18c24​ @letsbeinspiredby​ @shanty-lol​ @miabee0706​ @aspiringtranslator​ @fuer-immer-jetzt​ @phanaelion​ @xxbyimm​ @fizzyxcustard​ @lady-of-lies​ @soradragon​ 

Shard tag list @yes-captainstark​ @thetrappednerd​ @vorpal-queen​

Main masterlist here 

Thorin Oakneshield masterlist here 

 Catch up here 

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8

Word count 1,184

Running through the forest Thennith stopped and lifted her head up trying to hear anything, when she heard the shout of Fili for his brother, turning to the right she ran towards the shouts and her eyes landed on the company fight off the spiders, taken a breath Thennith was about to charge forward when something caught her eyes in the top of the trees, looking up she saw the flash of blonde hair, and she knew it belonged to her nephew Legolas, hiding around the tree Thennith slow climbed up and watched the scene unfold below her. 

“Do not think I won’t kill you, Dwarf. It would be my pleasure” Legolas barked at the company, making Thennith roll her eyes at the tone.

“Search them!” Legolas ordered as Thennith looked around and saw Bilbo hiding behind a tree looking around until his eyes landed on her, given a hand signal to stay put, as one of the other elves took Thorin’s sword and handed it to Legolas.

“This is an ancient Elvish blade, it was forged by my kin” Legolas spoke as he twisted orcrist around “where did you get this?” He asked while giving Thorin a dirty look.

“It was given to me” Thorin proclaimed remembering the day when Thennith handed it over to him saying it was made by her kin and it would serve him well. 

Pointing orcrist at him Legolas wet his lips “not just a thief, but a liar as well” he hissed before telling the elves to lead them towards Mirkwood as the company was pushed past Thorin until Balin reached his side and they walked together. 

Waiting until everyone was out of sight Thennith climbed down the tree and met with Bilbo in the clearing, she could see the hobbit was anxious and unsure at what they could do “Bilbo everything will be fine” Thennith spoke trying to claim the hobbit. 

“How can you say that? We’re lost in a forest, Thorin has been taken to Mirkwood and I doubt they would be happy if we walk up to the door and knock on it asking for our friends back” Bilbo huffed. 

“My dear Bilbo, all is not lost” Thennith started but stopped she was still unsure if she should say anything but when Bilbo turned to face her with tears slowly started to pool behind his eyes, her walls crumbled “I Thennith, daughter of Oropher, Twin and younger sister to King Thranduil, Princess of the woodland realm, promise you we will get our friends back.”

Staring at her Bilbo felt his mouth drop open as he searched for anything to say to her when he finally spoke he was sure she didn’t hear him “You are the lost princess?” 

“Lost and thought dead for 60 years” Thennith said as she raised her hand and placed it on Bilbo’s shoulder “Thorin doesn't know, Balin and Gandalf do, but you must keep my secret and I will keep yours” she added. 

“I don’t have any” Bilbo said sharcting his head. 

“Hobbits can go unseen by many folk, but to disappear entirely, you have a rare gift Mr. Baggains” Thennith smiled at him. 

“Oh, yeah so erm I won't tell if you don’t” Bilbo muttered. 

“I’m counting on it” Thennith laughed, “Right I have an idea and if we pull this off we should be in Laketown by tonight, so listen closely” She added before explaining her plan to the hobbit.

….

In the cells of Mirkwood, all the company was throwing themselves against the doors trying to open them to break free, but nothing was working.

“Leave it, there is no way out of here, this is no Orc dungeon! These are the Halls of the Woodland Realm and that means no one leaves here, but, by the King’s consent” Balin shouted from his cell to the others.

Standing in the middle of the throne room Thorin watched as Thranduil started to descend the stairs from the Thorne “Some may imagine that a noble quest is at hand, a Quest to reclaim a homeland and slay a dragon” Thranduil spoke as he reached the bottom of the stairs, “I myself, suspect a more prosaic motive, attempted burglary, or something of that ilk” He added while staring down at Thorin.

Taken closely look at the King, Thorin was confused he was sure he was looking at Thennith, but he hadn’t seen her since she climbed the tree at the bridge within the forest.

Tilting his head Thranduil wet his lips and continued speaking at Thorin, rather then to him “you have found a way in, you seek that which would bestow upon you the right to rule, a King’s jewel, the Arkenstone, It is precious to you beyond measure, I understand that there are gems in the mountain that I too desire, white gems of pure starlight, I offer you my help” he finished with a bow of his head.

“I am listening” Thorin said holding a sarcastic smile.

“I will let you go if you but return what is mine” Thranduil demanded.

“A favour for a favour” Thorin spat.

“You have my word, One King to another” Thranduil spat back.

Smirking to himself Thorin lowered his head before looking back up to Thranduil “I would not trust, Thranduil, the great King, to only his word, till the end of all days be upon us! You lack all honor! I have seen how you treat your friends! We came to you once, starving, homeless, seeking your help, but you turned your back, You, turned away from the suffering of my people and the inferno that destroyed us! May you die in dragon fire!” Thorin shouted at Thranduil.

“Do not talk to me of dragon fire! I know its wrath and ruin, I have faced the great serpents of the North” Thranduil shouted back as he got in Thorin’s face, letting the illusion drop and showing his burned scared face, before stepping away from the dwarf and pulling his shield back up “I warned your grandfather of what his greed would summon, but he would not listen, You are just like him” Thranduil mocked as he turned and walked back towards his throne motioning to his guards with a head tight as they grabbed a hold of Thorin as started to drag him away “Stay here if you will, and rot a hundred years is a mere blink in a life of an Elf, I’m patient, I can wait” Thranduil hissed with venom as Thorin was dragged out of his sight.

Balin watched as the guards dragged Thorin down the stairs and threw him into the cell, after they walked away he asked “Did he offer you a deal?”

“He did, I told him he could go ishkh khakfe andu null, him and all his kin!” Thorin shouted making Balin roll his eyes.

“Well, that’s that then, The deal was our only hope” Balin muttered as he sat against the wall.

“It’s not our only hope” Thorin whispered hoping Thennith and Bilbo were nearby and not in a different cell. 

*Part 10 coming soon*

[yzareenxiv]

Small Lives

"He's a bad man."

Oh, Lolah, why didn't I listen?

She'd argued vehemently that she was just as bad, that she would make him better, that she deserved the monster because she, herself, was a monster and isn't that how it works? Isn't that how it should be?

Now he was dead and C'arha was done with her.

No more 'you make me want to be better'. No more 'I need you'. No more 'I love you'. No more lies. No more manipulations. No more broken vows. No more passion. No more screaming, snarling arguments. No more whispered words of devotion. No more 'Amata' or 'Tempesta' or 'Tenebris' or 'Goddess' or 'Kitten' or 'Love' or 'Sandari'. No more sun-bright brilliance or fire-and-ice glory. No more falling asleep to the sound of someone else's heartbeat. No more soft smiles and bright eyes met across rooms. No more hands holding hers. No more soul mates or star crossed lovers.

The nights were so very, very empty. The days tumbled into each other in meaningless cacophonies that threatened to drive her mad and too-frequently sent her into the corner of her bedroom with her pillow over her ears to block out the sounds of too many neighbors, too many voices, too many noises, too many thoughts. The apartment Ayanga had arranged for her had been a kind gift that she had taken when she had received word that her home was, for the time being, unlivable. She was not accustomed to being so close to so many people all the time and her sensitive hearing and self-imposed isolation did her no favors.

In desperation, weeks ago, Zareen had tried to return to her house, thinking it could only be better than being stuck in the echoing box she was in, even if it was a little damaged. When she arrived, she was met with the tangible evidence of her life's destruction- the damage caused by the fight with Arden and the fire that Sana had extinguished had collapsed the upper floor and the combined weight had sent part of the building into the basement. Efforts had been made to preserve everything from the elements but nothing else had been touched.

She had gone picking through the rubble, salvaging what she could, being reminded with every piece of debris she turned over of the life she had built in that place. Of another time she had gone picking through rubble and debris at C'arha's side, offering the distraught woman her company and care. The memory stung all the more as Zareen looked at the devastation around her, surveying it while all alone.

I brought this on myself.

Workmen were hired after that but she did nothing to oversee them. What was the point of having a house if the people that she had bought it for were dead or lost to her? It was just a husk, a pretty trap with blades that waited to slice and cut and bleed her heart dry with every memory. She was told they put all the things they had recovered into storage for her, that almost everything was salvaged, and she had tried to show her gratitude even as the apathy gnawed at the edge of her consciousness. The workmen worked, the house slowly ceased to be rubble, the garden grew under the care of skilled gardeners that she couldn't remember hiring and didn't really care about as long as they made certain C'arha's flowers didn't die.

She hadn't gone to see the progress of the house, or the items in storage, or the spring garden- what was the point? The cubs had everything they needed- she'd recovered nearly the entire nursery, thanks to the wards- and she had the few things that truly mattered to her. Everything else... everything else was shards of shattered dreams that she couldn't bring herself to crawl through. She'd tried, at first. Turning over everything that had happened in her mind, over and over again, running through her memories- the last 6 moons, then the last year, then the last two years, then her time since leaving the island, then her time since becoming the Jaguar, then back and back until her earliest memories. She walked through the world without seeing it, without feeling it, without experiencing it, too preoccupied with trying to figure out where it had all gone so wrong. When she finally realized she was accomplishing nothing by looking backwards it had been simultaneously a weight off her shoulders and an overwhelming feeling of pointlessness.

What had it all been for?

Looking into her daughters' eyes was the only bright spot, the only thing that felt like it meant something anymore. When they napped or played with each other, Zareen felt like a forgotten doll, dropped carelessly aside to wait for time's inevitable flow, and she sat almost lifeless, staring into empty space and doing her best to think of or do something productive. Dinner? Lunch? Did she need more laundry soap? Were the oranges in the bowl going mushy? Small thoughts, quiet thoughts, for a life that had gone small and quiet and mostly meaningless. Her spear gathered dust in a closet- she used to bring it out frequently to keep it cleaned and sharpened, had even ventured out hunting a couple of times, but as the suns passed she recalled too clearly her promises not to hunt alone anymore and that memory led to other memories of other promises, hunts both recent and long, long past, and pain and failure and joy and success and it was all too much. So she set that part of herself aside, trying to hide it in a windowless room to suffocate and die, to grow dull and useless and forgotten.

Zareen had never been one to go quietly into the night, though. And as much as she wanted to, as much as her days blurred together and her nights were spent restlessly staring at the walls- or startling awake screaming and lying trembling and still as she watched the shadows for threats and held tightly to a purple-hearted crystal- there was still something inside her, some unquenchable flicker that wouldn't allow her to end her own misery. Every time she went walking in Shirogane and found herself staring longingly at the sea, imagining the stillness, the silence, the chill and the dark, something spurred her to turn her head and keep walking. Every time she stood in the kitchen, time ticking away without comprehension, eyes fixated on the blade of the knife as she sliced carrots or potatoes, enchanted at the play of light over the metal and the promises of crimson and candy-apple and rubies, something would make her blink and frown and go back to preparing the meal.

She drank too much. She slept too little. She rarely ate.

Some days, she managed more. Some days, she even managed to gather herself and her cubs and go to see her family. Share a meal. Babysit. Be all small talk and smiles and rarely, very rarely, even laughter.

The nightmares were always worst, those nights, and she struggled terribly with guilt when she would feel relieved that she did not hear from anyone for a sun or two. She was not made to play pretend and she did not do it well.

I used to have such big dreams.

She didn't ask about the Pack anymore. When she felt the unmistakable chill of the Void brush against her senses, she did not drop everything to chase it down anymore. When she felt the Sin Eater inside of her stir, she ruthlessly ignored it until it slumbered once again. Small thoughts, those were safe. A small life. A life with walls and fences and overhanging rooftops and polite empty conversations where you ignore the pull of the sun and the moon, the dance of the stars, the rush of the wind, the call of the sea. Where thunder is just thunder and not the lovemaking of the gods. Where there are no great destinies calling your name. Where primal forces do not walk or talk or guide your steps. Where magic is a practicality and not an art and a thrill and a thing of beauty and great skill. Where the brandishing of weapons is frowned upon and martial skill simply isn't necessary.

Where emotions skate across the surface and you never, ever, ever look down.

It's so much more peaceful this way. Is this the way everyone else lives?

When she was told Dunrai was not returning from the Steppes, it had briefly brought it all bubbling back to the surface- grief and loss and loneliness and fear and self-loathing and anger and glorious memories of dancing and singing and stories and hugs and safety and warmth and love. She had wept, the storm fierce but too-quickly pushed down and away- who was she to cry and mourn? What right did she have? Mourning is too big a thing for a small life so she locked it away with all the rest- down in the dark- and did her best to make herself go out to help Ayanga and Tolemy more often with their cubs.

Then Ayanga asked to visit, made a proposal of the occasional family meals and sleep overs, and she had accepted with a confusing mix of reluctance and hope. Small lives had small things like these, didn't they? Women and men in the market who had never stepped foot outside the 8 or 10 blocks of their home spoke of family visiting and sharing a meal, after all. Maybe this would be okay- maybe this would be safe and she wouldn't have to crawl through the bright, keen-edged broken dreams again. So long as she could keep everything on the surface, keep the closets locked and barred, stay behind the walls, keep it all small and simple, then everything would be okay. She was getting so good at it, even his keen eyes wouldn't notice anything amiss. And if he did? Maybe, maybe he would welcome the change- maybe he would think she was just becoming more Doman, more centered, following his lead. Maybe if she was small and quiet and calm and civilized, maybe if she no longer danced through the world chaotic and loud and bright and feral and violent and fierce and loyal and loving and so very, very broken, maybe that was the person she was meant to be. Maybe that was what Tolemy had meant when he told her to find herself, even if what she found wasn't perfect.

Maybe they will understand that it is so much easier this way. As long as I keep my head down, as long as I don't look around, as long as I stay behind the walls and under the roofs and keep my hands to myself and my thoughts to myself and my dreams to myself and my nightmares to myself then everything else will eventually go away. That's how people do this, right? That's how people are. I may not be able to lie like everyone else can, but if I make my truth as small as possible, then I won't have to- I'll be just like everyone else.

((Tagging for mentions: @ala-mhinyan and @talesfromthegameff14 ))

[dicecast]

Blast to the Past: Dark Souls and variable rewards

So there are many reasons why people like Dark Souls, and exploration is one of the main ones, it is a game that really rewards exploring and finding everything within the larger world.  One factor that I think helps make Dark Souls exploration so fun is that the rewards you find can vary dramatically.  See most games have a limited list of rewards to give you mechanically, Gold/XP/Magic items are usually the only options given to you.  But in Dark Souls, the reward for finding a hidden area can vary dramatically.  

So lets go through some of the rewards and how each one changes the gameplay entirely

1) Souls:

The most standard rewards are permanent souls, which help in a game like Dark Souls where you are always at risk of losing your progress.  This is the most basic reward and has the least ‘oh excitement” past the lowest levels, but it is also one of the most fundamentally useful. 

2) Weapons/Armor/Shields/Wands, necessary upgrades to make yourself more powerful.  The reward potential from these vary dramatically, basically most of time you are like “cool, never gonna use it” but like 10% of the ones you find are like “Damn, this is awesome lets try it”.   The specific playthrough just determines which one you are playing with.  I think it would be more rewarding if you didn’t have to upgrade equipment as much.  Still most characters are going to have a melee weapon, shield, ranged weapon, armor, ring, and even a melee build is likely going to use some magic, so there will always be some reward, even if most stuff you find is immediately forgotten.  

3) Estus Flask Shards:  Introduced in DSII and onwards, these allow you to have more estus flasks, so you can heal more. Which is always necessary, making this a great reward to hide away

4) Fire Seeds, necessary to upgrade your pyromancy.  While some builds will value this more than others, I always find its useful to have some pyromancy, so its a useful reward no matter who finds it, though the amount varies

5) Spells.  Either great or useless depending on the playthrough

6) Shortcuts.  This is one of the best finds because it makes the game play experience so much easier

7) Secret Bonefires.  Again, great reward, makes the game easier, though it does suck for those who miss them 

8) Boosts Estus Flask healing power.  These are a great bonus reword, be it Fire Keeper souls or Sublime Bone Dust, the point is that these are useful for every playthrough and are powerful enough to justify hiding away in a remote difficult location

9) Bonefire Aethetic.  These only show up in DSII and are one of those rewards that are either super useful or entirely useless depending on your play style.  

10) Humanity:  Always a great reward, but because it can also be farmed, has limited reward value 

11) Keys:  Basically you explore so you can in turn unlock more areas.  Keys are subdivided into a few sub categories 

Keys necessary to go to a new area, which is basically exploration for the sake of exploration 

Keys that unlock short cuts, basically twice the exploration for the price of one reward

The special keys.  Dark Souls 2 has a tone of these like Fragrant Branch of Yore, Pharoh’s Lockstone.  I really like this, because it makes unlocking the door itself be another puzzle, but you need to make sure there is a suitable reward behind each use of these items.

12) Bonus areas.  Dark Souls one was the most famous example of this, the Painted World and the Great Oak were both totally hidden away bonus areas.  Totally awesome, but take the most work 

13) Bonus bosses/mini bosses.  The easiest bonus material, but for this to be rewarding you need the boss itself to be fun

14) Merchants/trainers/Crafters.  Super useful option for almost everybody, but you usually run out these real quick.  The one issue with this is that if they are all spread out, it can lead to frustration.  

15) plot events.  Some players own’t care about these, but a great way of rewarding exploring for those who have souls 

16) Upgrade Materials;  Players are always going to be needing these, so you can never give enough, though they are also farmable

17) Mutiplayer items/Faction items.  These are really only useful to a tiny number of players and are utterly useless to most.  

18) Unique upgrades.  These are usually plot events, like the Lord Vessel or the Rite of Kindling.  I wish there were more of these in the later games.  

19) Buff Items:  Repair Powder, Homeword bones, Pine Raisen, moss ect, these are always useful to have, but they don’t trigger that “OMG” sense of excitement as some of the other items

20) Trade items, aka things to trade to the birds.  This is basically a more elaborate way to get these rewards directly, so I don’t really like these as rewards, but better than nothing 

21) Finally in Dark Souls Ii there are flame butterflies and torches to engage with the fire middle game, but that mechanic didn’t really work out as intended. 

The reason why this is useful is that there are at least 21 different types of upgrades here, each of which has totally different mechanical feel.  So you get rewarded for exploring with a variety of ways beyond simply the 100% completion desire to see the whole world.  If you want to know why the Souls Series is so popular this is a big part of it